#i feel like he'd be able to recognize when i'm working myself too hard even when he can't see it in himself

[fates-theysband]

it's weird bc like...i definitely don't like being treated like i'm a dumb toddler by romantic partners and i want to have my autonomy as an adult person respected but i also, whether due to hyperfocus or because one of my many charming traits is that i am always trying to prove i'm not lazy, tend to really overdo things.

like i'll be out walking around until i'm in so much pain i can barely stand, i'll totally lose track of time doing something and not realize i haven't eaten in six hours, i'll stay up way too late because i won't allow myself to stop a project until it's done.

and sometimes i just want my f/os to gently remind me to stop. tell me they won't think less of me if we have to leave the place where we're on a date because i'm practically limping from all the pain i'm in. remind me to take a break and eat something. persuade me to save my work and go to bed because it's more important for me to rest. not someone who parents me but like. a gentle voice in my ear telling me they love me and they don't want me to overextend myself.

[tacobellebandit]

Something in Spiritfarer that really resonated with me, and I guess I'm just thinking about it tonight (and spoilers for the game, I highly recommend people play for themselves, but it does deal explicitly with death and grief so it may be a difficult game in some ways, but I find it such a cathartic experience myself, and a starter to just. Talk about things you know?)

And it was, unexpectedly, Astrid's story, and not for the reasons you'd think. When Gio passes, she describes her complicated feelings, like she loved him but also feeling relief when he's gone because of the pain and stress he'd caused her, too. And feeling like a terrible person for that relief along with the grief.

They're feelings that I know well. For a couple years, I and my dad took care of my grandma with Alzheimers. And it was tough. I see a lot of stuff about the pain of your loved one forgetting you and stuff about you, and that's a thing, but also it's... so fucking hard to take care of somebody with Alzheimers. Having to take care of her, clean up after her, the clogged toilets, waking up at 2am with the sink clogged and running, and a flood of freezing water in the bathroom and the hallway carpet fully soggy, having work in a few hours but having to miss out on sleep to deal with that, broken belongings, and so so much more. It's tough. Sometimes I would feel just so upset and stressed out, and then I would think about how I can't even express that to her and sometimes even feel resentful toward her for it. Feeling like a bad person for it.

And now she lives in a home, because she reached a level of needed care that we could no longer provide and it was. Relief. The stress was gone with my grandmother and that feels AWFUL. It feels so bad and I feel guilty like I'm a terrible person, like I obviously didn't love her ebough, and I also feel regret, because there were moments where she wpuld laugh and be like "aww i love you" and I don't even think she ever recognized me even then, and I wonder, wonder if there is more I could have done, to make more use of those moments I had before her memory got truly so bad that she no longer recognized me.

It's a lot. I'm glad to have been able to talk about it, the conflicting emotions, the grief and regret and RELIEF (and relief feels so ugly to have, and it brings so much guilt too), it's a lot

[casspurrjoybell-30]

Bonding with the Enemy - Chapter 33

*Warning Adult Content*

That's A Thing He Can Do.

Darren was leaning heavily against Jasper as the two wandered back towards town.

Every time he tried to walk alone, he felt his knees threaten to buckle beneath him, thus forcing him to accept the assistance. 

He had no idea how Jasper got to him so fast without a car but what he did know was that thanks to water damage, neither one of them had a working phone, so they had no choice but to head back on foot.

"I told Gerrit to call the Red Point Police but this doesn't look like a place they would think to check," Jasper explained as he tightened his grip around Darren, whose arm was draped over his shoulder.

"Hmmm..." was all Darren managed to mutter. 

He was too sore to think properly and every breath he took felt like he was inhaling shards of glass.

The rogue's eyes were burning from the river water and his mind was unfocused, yet he felt like there was something important that he was forgetting...

Reaching up, the rogue remembered that his collar was now gone, having been left at the bottom of the river.

Momentarily, the fog in his mind lifted and he began shooting cautious glances towards the Alpha.

"Hey..." he spoke hesitantly.

"You're... You don't seem surprised...?"

That brief question was all Jasper needed to understand the rogue's meaning.

"No."

"Why not?" Darren asked more boldly.

"I've known."

"Since when?"

Jasper smiled sadly.

"You remember that night we had the pillow fight?"

Darren's mind struggled with the recollection but eventually he was able to piece together the events that the man was referring to.

"But... you kept referring to me as a she? You said you were still looking? And... and what was that thing about you thinking it was my sister?"

The Alpha chuckled.

"You didn't seem interested, so I wasn't going to push it, though sometimes I couldn't help myself. Going into heat was the worst part, I'm sure you know how it is. And I only kept referring to my mate as a 'she' because at first, I wanted it to be a woman. That's what I was raised to expect but when I realized it was you, I thought that if I kept acting like I was still searching for my mate, then maybe you'd get jealous. But….you didn't, so I tried suggesting it was your sister to see if that would work. "

The rogue stared back in thought.

He did feel that the man was acting a little too thick in the head to have not realized this sooner.

There had been too many close calls.

"I just don't understand why I couldn't sense the bond until now," Jasper continued.

"You don't know?"

The Alpha shook his head, and Darren explained.

"You remember the thing I was wearing around my neck?"

"That weird choker that you never took off? Yeah, it was hard not to notice. You even kept it on when you shifted."

"It's called a Rogue's Collar. It has special properties that protect me from being influenced by other werewolves, so things like the Alpha Command or a Mate Bond wouldn't affect me."

He felt the Alpha's grip tighten a little and knew the man wasn't happy with that answer.

"You were really going that far to avoid me?"

"I'm surprised you didn't know. Liam recognized it right away so I assumed he'd have told you about it."

"No. As a matter of fact, it turns out there's a lot that Liam didn't tell me..." he quickly glanced away and cleared his throat.

"So are you going to explain how you wound up trapped in a car in the river?"

Darren's feet stopped moving as he finally remembered that important thing he was supposed to bring up.

"Where's Mary?"

"At home packing. I assume?"

The rogue shook his head frantically.

"No, she's not. She was the one who tried to kill me."

As expected, Jasper didn't look convinced but after thinking it over, the man realized that the back of the car had looked slightly familiar.

He hadn't bothered with the license plate since he was in a hurry to find Darren but the vehicle did resemble the one Mary drove.

He'd have to get it retrieved later to confirm. 

"She's the one who's taking the kids," Darren blurted.

"That's why Liam wouldn't tell anyone what his lead was because it was his mate. But she HATED him. Apparently she didn't want to be bonded but Liam forced her and she found out he had been buying Beta kids from other packs, so she started selling the ones from your pack and when Liam confronted her, she murdered him and pinned it on Sophie. She also killed the hunter in the woods because that field is right where she..."

"Slow down," Jasper shook the smaller man gently as the rogue's voice grew more urgent.

"If you say it's Mary then I believe you. We just need proof."

"The mail," Darren turned and clutched Jasper's shirt.

"That's the evidence. The private property that Liam was murdered on is right next door to the property she's paying for. And that rusty red car is getting billed to the house because Liam found out and was forwarding her mail so he could look into her spending."

"Alright, alright," Jasper grasped Darren's hand

"Calm down, we can't do anything from the road, so let's focus on getting you back to the pack first, okay?"

Darren sucked in an impatient breath but nodded and they continued on their way.

About fifteen minutes later, they came across a familiar red car blocking the road. 

From the look of it, the car was empty.

"Stay here," Jasper ordered as he tentatively released the rogue and made his way to the vehicle.

Darren watched the man check all the windows while he glanced towards the trees to the side, worried that there may be some sort of ambush waiting for them.

Then, there was a loud BANG and a sudden pain shot through the rogue's left shoulder.

Jasper's head snapped back to where Darren was standing, and his eyes widened as the rogue's shirt was quickly stained with blood. 

Shocked, Darren glanced down at it, then back at Jasper before stumbling forward.

"NO," Jasper roared and sprinted back to the rogue's side.

Tired, shocked and in pain, Darren fell to the ground facing upwards.

The Alpha kneeled over him to inspect the wound, then growled back in the direction they had come.

"Careful Jasper. Rogues are awfully dangerous. You never know when one might turn on you."

Mary started approaching, gun in hand.

Jasper's breathing became uneven as he confronted the woman whom he always thought of as a mother.

"But... why? Why would you do this?"

"You mean you didn't notice?" she asked, head tilted.

"You didn't notice how often Liam would gaslight me whenever I tried to think for myself? How he refused to listen to any input I had? How he forced me to be an obedient house wife? No, I suppose you wouldn't. You two are a lot alike after all."

The woman began circling them until she was between the two and the car.

"You didn't care about the people you hurt and used threats to get your way. Then, you surrounded yourself with people who praised you while ignoring everyone else."

Jasper glared.

"I listened to Darren."

Mary paused to think that over, then nodded admittingly.

"Yes, I suppose that's true but the damage is already done and who's to say you won't become just as much of a monster as Liam was?"

"I'm warning you..." Jasper stood slowly.

"Stop."

Darren felt the man's Alpha Presence suddenly bore down and with his words came power.

Mary was unfortunately unaffected.

"Sweetheart. Don't you think Liam tried the same thing on me?"

Jasper seemed confused but tried again.

"Put the gun down, now."

Once more, nothing.

Darren feebly reached over and tugged on the leg of Jasper's pants, drawing the man's eyes downward.

His voice was weak and it took a good amount of strength for him to speak.

"Her... bracelet... is blocking... your commands..."

Jasper immediately kneeled back down and held up Darren's head.

"Shh. Shh. Shh. Don't try to say anything."

"Well this has been a lovely conversation but I'm really on a time crunch now. So if you don't mind, I'll be on my way," she aimed the gun towards Jasper.

Another shot rang out and the Alpha fell with a sickening thud.

Darren watched in horror as the blood started to pool around his body but then, just as quickly... it started to retract.

'What the fuck?'

Suddenly Jasper was getting back on his feet and a new feeling was coming through their bond.

'Rage.'

The Alpha turned and snarled at the shocked woman, who then pulled the trigger once more.

Again Jasper stumbled but this time he caught himself and continued to walk as each injury healed itself seamlessly.

The woman's face became panicked as she quickly realized her advantage was no longer effective.

So, she turned to run but Jasper began shifting as he sprinted after her.

Normally a werewolf only had one form and it looked very much like an average wolf but Alphas were different.

Alphas had a second form that they could always use regardless of what phase the moon was in.

One that more closely resembled the old legends of a bipedal creature.

It walked upright like a man but had all the features of a wolf.

This was the Alpha's true form, intended to only be used when defending the pack.

With a dangerous, inhuman growl, Jasper caught up to the woman and snatched her by the back of her shirt.

In response, Mary ducked down, slipping out of her top and backing away in her undershirt.

Jasper quickly tossed the cloth to the side and prowled closer, causing the woman to raise the gun again, this time aiming for his head. 

"You might be able to heal general wounds but what about wounds to the brain?"

The Alpha paused and Darren felt a wave of panic flow through their bond.

Thanks to their unfiltered connection, the rogue realized why the man was hesitating.

It was because she had guessed right.

While Jasper could heal just about any wound to his body, he wouldn't be able to recover if his brains were blown out. 

Dizzy and fearful, Darren struggled to his feet as he was overcome with new determination.

He had to do something or else Jasper was going to die.

'His mate was going to die.'

Darren felt a wave of cold hit him and he gasped, surprised, as his body became light as a feather.

The colors of the world began to fall away, replaced by shades of grey as an ethereal glow permeated his vision.

He didn't know what was happening but what he did know was that one second it was just the three of them and the next, they were surrounded by ghosts.

Some of them were familiar faces, such as the teacher's spirit that guarded the preschool and the old woman from the park.

As a matter of fact, it looked like Darren had somehow summoned every ghost from miles around and they were all focused on Mary.

Both Jasper and Mary were glancing around wide eyed and it took a second for Darren to realize that he wasn't the only one who could see them.

A rush of adrenaline had the rogue walking forward and the ghosts copied what he did, circling in on the woman ahead.

Panicked, Mary turned the gun on the supernatural intruders.

"Back away. Back away now," she ordered them.

Then she paused when she spotted a familiar face. 

This spirit was young and well dressed and from the looks of it, he recognized her too. 

Mary's breath picked up as the man stared back in disappointment and a sob wracked her body as she lowered the gun.

Taking advantage of the situation, Jasper reacted instantly by rushing forward and disarming the woman with a clawed swipe. 

Mary tried to pull away but was startled when all the ghosts suddenly rushed her.

All of them slamming into her form and disappearing on contact.

As the last of them faded, Mary fell to her knees, bewildered and Jasper stood over her to make sure she didn't try to escape again.

Darren, meanwhile, felt like all the energy in his body had been drained and sat down to catch his breath.

"Whelp. Didn't know I could do that." 

[hollandsmoose]

kiss me more

A/N: Kinda thought a lot about "Kiss Me More" by Doja Cat and SZA a lot when writing this. So here you go, my lads, here's 1.6k of basically just pure blowjob smut!

—————

The movie playing on the TV in Tom’s room is long forgotten, his lips on yours far more important right now. It had barely been on for ten minutes before his hand was up your shirt, his mouth on yours, and you were pinned underneath him. But, to be honest, it's what you expected to happen.

Freshly returned from filming in another country, Tom has barely let you leave his side. He's always been clingy after reuniting with you, but, this time, it's on a whole new level. You can hardly complain, though - not with the amount of times he's made you cum in the last week.

Sadly, all of that had to come to a temporary end. Your period made its arrival, and while you knew it was going to happen, it bummed you out nonetheless. So when Tom's hand glides down your front, toying with the waistband of your sweatpants, you're forced to pull away from his kiss.

"Tom…" you pant, breathless, and he gives you a somewhat worried look. "I'm on my period, remember?"

"Oh, shit, yeah," he says, exhaling rather deeply, and even though he tries to hide it, his disappointment is still clear. "I'll keep my hands to myself, then." He shifts a little when moving his hand up to rest beside your head, and as he does, you get to feel just how disappointed he is. His bulge, hard and firm, presses into your thigh, and it gives you an idea.

You may not really be able to get off right now, but that doesn't mean Tom can't. When he leans down to kiss you again, you gladly accept it. Your hand travels down to where his cock is straining against his sweats, palming him through the soft fabric, and you can't help but giggle when Tom helplessly moans into your mouth.

He breaks the kiss, his eyebrows raised. "What are you playing at, darling?"

You grin at him, offering a small shrug. "I just wanna make you feel good, Tommy," You emphasize your words by rubbing his bulge again, and he whines, unable to stop himself from grinding into the palm of your hand.

"But what about you?"

"It doesn't have to be about me," you say, placing a soft peck on his chin. "You've been loving on me all week. Let me love on you a little," He's just about to protest, but then you put your finger over his lips, shutting him up. "Let me make you feel good. Please?"

He hesitates for a moment, but then he nods and presses a kiss to the tip of your finger. You giggle, your heart fluttering, and Tom smiles at the sound of your laugh. After that, he rolls off you and lands on the mattress, the springs squeaking slightly at the movement.

You crawl down the bed and climb off it until you're kneeling on the floor at the foot end. You gently tug on his legs, and he gets the hint, shuffling down the length of the bed. Tom sits up, inhaling sharply at the sight of you on your knees for him, and enthusiastically helps you peel off his sweatpants and boxers. His cock springs up once it's freed from its confinement, hard and already leaking precum from the tip. You're just about to reach out to touch him when he interrupts.

"Wait!" Tom speaks out, and you halt instantly. "Can you… can you take your shirt off?" You snort at his request. You'd actually been worried about him for a second there. Nevertheless, you pull your T-shirt over your head, rolling your eyes at the way he ogles your chest, now only covered by a bra. “That’s my girl.”

With a smile, you finally touch him. You spread the precum over his tip, and Tom sucks in a breath, his thighs clenching and his cock twitching. Teasing him is always fun. He lets out a strangled whimper when you withdraw your hand and spit in the palm of it, well aware of what's going to happen now. His hands grip the edge of the mattress as you finally grasp his length, and you quite enjoy the groan that escapes him.

You start with slow strokes, warming him up gently, and the way he bites his lip to hold back a moan has your pussy clenching around nothing. Fuck, he looks good. You watch Tom intently as he reacts to your touch, and it makes you giggle when you see just how quickly he gets worked up, his cheeks pink and his breath labored. You've always had that effect on Tom, but, to be fair, he's always had the same effect on you too. Even his mere touch is enough to send you into overdrive.

When he releases that telltale, drawn-out whine you know so well, you remove your hand from him. He's getting close, and this isn’t the way you want him to cum. And just when Tom’s about to complain, you lean in further and place a little kiss on his tip, and the words die on his lips.

You begin by just giving him a few kitten licks, but it's enough to make him gasp your name, and you suspect that this really won't take long at all. You rest your hands on his thick thighs, caressing the firm muscles softly. In all honesty, you've lost count of just how many times you've fallen apart on his thighs.

Feeling yourself get distracted, you try and shake off your thoughts so you can get back to business. Back on track, you make your tongue travel up from the base of him, and his cock twitches delightfully when you swirl the tip of your tongue around the head. You're teasing Tom again at this point, and it is a bit unfair, to be honest, but it's fun to watch how desperate he gets. Maybe, if the situation was different, he'd scold you for teasing him like this and leave your ass bruised and sore as punishment, but the ball seems to be in your court today.

"Please, darling," he begs, impatient and needy. "Please just… do something."

"You're gonna have to be more specific than that, Tommy," you say with a voice you barely recognize. It's low and seductive, but it makes you feel quite powerful. "Tell me what you want."

He exhales shakily. "I want… I want your mouth on me… on my cock. Please, love?"

You shrug rather smugly. "Well, since you asked so nicely…"

And then you finally give him what he wants. With a deep breath, you take Tom in your mouth. His reaction is instant, his thighs jerking slightly under your touch, and your name falls from his lips in a moan. Your hand wraps around the base of his cock and moves in sync with your mouth, knowing that that's just how he likes it. You go slow and steady; you don't want Tom to topple over the edge just yet.

His hands are still gripping the mattress, his knuckles white, and you know he's trying his hardest not to buck into your mouth. Tom never wants to hurt you - at least, never without your consent. And while you do let him fuck your mouth from time to time, it's not what you want today.

But, as a treat, you pull away from him for a second, inhaling deeply before you wrap your lips around him again and take him as far as you can. When the tip of his cock touches the back of your throat, he practically shouts out a string of profanities, and it's so loud that you're sure the others in the house must've heard. It doesn't matter much to you right now, though. Let them hear.

You're fighting off your gag reflex, trying to breathe through your nose, and tears are forming in your eyes, but Tom looks so pretty that you don't give up just yet. So you keep your head where it is until he, rather unwillingly, pulls you up himself.

He's completely breathless, needing a few seconds before he can even speak. "Babe, I'm… I'm close," You can't help but smile when you hear just how affected he is.

You appreciate Tom's warning, returning to your previous tactic, your lips around the head of him and your hand jerking the base. His one hand lets go of the mattress and caresses your cheek instead, and when you look up to make eye contact, Tom's staring at you with such a wonderful mixture of lust and love that it makes both your pussy and your heart melt a little.

He gasps in that special way you've picked up on by now, and you know what's about to happen. Drawing back a little, you rest the tip of his cock on the tip of your tongue, and, with one last jerk of your hand, he finally gets to cum.

Tom curses uncontrollably as he paints your tongue white, his hand now holding your jaw in place. His head is leant back, his eyes screwed shut, and his mouth is half-open. He looks absolutely beautiful.

You watch him as he slowly comes down from his high, his eyes blinking open and finding your face immediately. And Tom watches you as you swallow his cum and put on a little show for him, licking your lips for any leftovers.

"Fucking hell," he says, completely overwhelmed, and falls back against the bed, and you laugh, satisfied with your work. You crawl onto the bed as well, settling on top of him. "You're gonna be the death of me, darling."

—————

taglist: @spideycents @linanilssonfurberg @to-the-road @hallecarey1 @harryhollandsgirlfriend

[plaidbooks]

Dom Dodds height difference smut? Where he comes back home frustrated cuz of an argument he had with his dad and he just wants to blow off some steam. Doggy style

I will provide a dialogue as help for the prompt (it’s just a gist) “ I will use you the way I want”

CW: rough smut, dom/sub dynamics, slight choking

You knew Mike was upset before he even made it home, but seeing him was different. He was pissed. You felt yourself get turned on from it--it's not that angry men turned you on, but you knew that one way Mike worked out aggression was with incredibly rough sex. And you were all too willing to give yourself to him.

Mike recognized the look of submission on your face, but still, he asked to make sure. He'd never do anything to hurt you (unless you asked for it) and he wanted to make sure you remembered the safe word.

Once you both agreed, he had a hand around your throat--not enough to cut off air, just to control your movements. He pushed you back against the wall, his eyes examining you.

"So fucking needy, aren't you? I'm fucking pissed off from work, and you think just swaying your hips will comfort me?" he growled.

"I--I can get on my knees? Suck you off--"

"I will use you any way I please, do I make myself clear?"

You blinked, looking up at him. "Y--yes sir."

"Good. Now strip; I like my toys ready for use."

He released his hold on you, and you quickly pulled your clothes off. But not quick enough for him. He grabbed your bra and underwear, and ripped them off you. You gasped at the sudden cold on your exposed parts, and he smirked down at you.

"I'm going to enjoy using you as my little fleshlight," he cooed, his voice soft despite his words. He pulled at his belt deliberately, delighting in how you watched his hands. You vaguely noticed that he left all his clothes still on as he freed his cock. He was already erect, his long, thick cock twitching with the thought of fucking you.

He moved closer, pinning you to the wall as he kissed you roughly. His hands trailed down your body until he found your ass. You obediently wrapped your legs around his thighs, and he lifted you so that you're wrapped around his waist.

You always felt small next to Mike, but it was always more apparent during sex. He could lift you easily, manhandling you like a doll until you were where he wanted you. This was no different; he pulled you off the wall, shifting your body in his arms until he was able to impale you on his cock.

You moaned loudly, and he gave you no time before he lifted you off him, and lowered you back down. You couldn't do anything but take it as he moved you up and down in his arms, his hips thrusting forward to hit deeper.

He was grunting in no time, a sign that he was getting close. But he stopped, pulling you fully off him. You looked at him with a confused look, your own orgasm backing away.

"I told you--I'm going to use you however I damn well please," he said darkly. He carried you to the couch, then draped you over the back. He was too tall to fuck you well on your hands and knees, but the couch was just the right height.

When he pushed back into you from behind, you screamed. He wasn't gentle, fucking into you hard and fast, desperate for his release. He grunted as he went, sweat dripping down his forehead as he slammed into you. He finally pushed himself in deep, rocking his hips into you as he filled you with his release.

"Good girl--take it--take it all," he groaned, using your body to milk himself. Every twitch of his cock deposited more cum into you, and you shuddered at the feeling, needing your own release.

Slowly, he pulled out of you. But the powerful hand on your lower back holding you down made you stay still. With his free hand, he started rubbing and pinching your clit. You squirmed in his hold, but you were unable to go anywhere.

Soon enough, he brought you to your climax, and you whimpered his name. He watched with dark eyes as your orgasm forced some of his seed to come trailing out of you, dripping down your thigh.

"I'm not fucking done with you yet, darling," he muttered, collecting his release and pushing it back up into you, making you moan. "Not yet."

Mike easily threw you over his shoulder, carrying you to the bedroom.

[vannybarber]

The Prenup: Final Chapter

Summary: After four years of being together and finally being engaged, Chris wants you to sign a prenup.

Chris Evans x Reader

Warnings: angst, swearing, chris getting his ass handed to him, a lot of pain.

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four

You lied.

You didn't come back the day after. Or the next day. In fact, you stayed at the hotel for almost a week. You didn't stay in the same clothes of course. You went out to buy everything you needed. Clothes, hygiene products, prenatal vitamins. You were the saddest and most ridiculous thing to walk this earth.

Lisa and Scott eventually came over with your permission of course. You couldn't say no to them. You weren't upset with them.

"How've you been, sweetie?" They both look for your answer, trying to read your face.

"To tell you the truth, I actually feel like an asshole. I honestly realize how immature I was. Chris definitely was, but I was stooping to that level myself. But I won't admit to him just yet. I want him to recognize how immature he was too."

It was crazy to even hear it from your own mouth. But you had time to think it over. You recognized how stupid you looked living in a hotel because you couldn't put your immaturity aside.

"Well this might be a shock to you, but I had a talk with him also and it might've did something." You make eye contact with her and your eyebrows jump. Indeed, you were surprised. She continues.

"I know you guys will be able to resolve this. But you need to try. You've have been together too long to let this get in between you two. I think he finally understands." She sets her hand on yours, which was placed in your lap.

He finally understood? You had to see this for yourself. You hoped to everything that she was right. You actually wanted to fix this and he needed to be on board and feel the same way.

It occurred to you after some time that his points were actually valid. It was just the way he came across is all. You were in your own feelings and took it really personal, which was understandable, but you got stubborn. Even though he got a prenup for his own reasons, you felt as if he didn't love you as much as you love him.

This could all be fixed, but he needed to set some boundaries with Megan. He had no choice. Wait till she finds out about the baby. Evidently none of the other Evans' knew about the baby because it was never brought up. You secretly thank Chris for keeping that between you guys, even though he was most likely still upset that you weren't gonna tell him about the baby right away.

You both are grown ass adults and you're having a child together. This bullshit needed to end.

"Oh my gosh this is great !! All my shit talking did some good." Lisa clears her throat at him. "Along with Ma's great advice of course." You just laugh. You loved your family.

"I think I'm ready to see him. Scratch that. I am ready to see him. I want my fianceé back." You smile and grasp your hands together. You don't think you've ever seen them smile so hard.

"Oh yeah we know you're pregnant." You stop smiling and stare at Scott like you've been caught in the cookie jar. "You know Chris can't keep his big mouth shut." Well that's a Gemini for you.

"Now its really important that you solve this. You're bringing another life into the world!" Lisa exclaims. "Plus I'm gonna have another grandbaby!!"

You giggle and shake your head. "Well we need to head over there right now then!"

Little did you know Chris was on the exact same page as you. Down to every line and every word.

He has always been indecisive and this situation really forced him to take some responsibility and rethink his behavior. You had all the reason to feel the way you did, his intentions clearly being missed by you. Whatever they even were.

He also decided that he was going to set Megan straight about his personal life and respecting you. You were his future wife. And now that you're bringing a baby into the world, she definitely needed to be put in check. He can't even believe how he allowed her to disrespect you like this.

Now he only hoped that you'd want to sort this out and forgive him. He needed you no matter what he said. He did make up excuses because your relationship was too good to be true. He's never had a connection like this before. He never allowed it, but clearly it was for a reason because it give you a chance to come in his life and completely change it for the better.

When he had gotten home from visiting you, his feelings were all over the place. Upset that you didn't come back with him and guilty for making you feel the way you did. He just felt like he was doing the right thing because Megan told him to. Deep down inside, he really didn't even want to get the stupid prenup anyway.

"So where's Y/N? Is she okay?" Shanna asked for everyone. They all expected you to come back too. They didn't know you were this stubborn.

"She's alright. She said she wasn't ready to come back just yet. Which I completely understand. But I feel like a failed once again." He slumps on the couch and lies back. "I don't deserve her at all."

"Now Chris, you know what you have. And what you have is good. Better than anything you had before. You two were made for each other. You're a hard head and I know you're not giving up this easily" Lisa says to him, taking a seat to his right.

"You know she's pregnant." He really shouldn't have said that and he knows it, but he can't keep a secret to save his own life. Everyone in the room gasps. "I found the tests in the bathroom. If I didn't go in there and discover them myself, she wasn't planning on telling me yet."

"Well she probably wanted to fix this before adding more on top of it." Scott adds. And he was absolutely correct.

"Well I'm happy for you! But I you still have this going on." Lisa's voice goes from excited to monotone. She's super happy, but she wished this could have been evented at a much better time.

"Well this could've made things better...or worse." Chris throws his NASA cap on the couch angrily.

Carly speaks up.

"You and Scott should go visit her. I doubt she'll turn it down."

"Yeah Ma. We should see where her heads at. Maybe her mind will change with our advice" Scott agrees. He loves you as a sister. Anything threatening that would have to be put to death immediately.

"Guys, I don't know about that. She seemed pretty definite on how she felt." Chris didn't want to make it worse than what it was, but he always found a way to do that anyway.

"Chris come on" Scott drags out. "We have to try."

"Y/N is a smart girl. She knows what she needs to do and it will come to her. I know it'll work out. And when it does, you'll realize your love is inevitable." Lisa smiles knowing she is absolutely right.

Now she just waits for it all to fall in place.

You were currently outside in the driveway of your house. You drove back there in your car with Lisa and Scott behind you. When you arrived, you hopped in her car to discuss how this was going to go.

Looking at the property, you admit missed your place, but you allowed your infantilism to get in the way.

"Okay he's in there, but he doesn't know you're coming back." Scott speaks lowly from the back seat.

"Wait you didn't tell him?" You snap around mystified. Why did they not tell him?

"Because we wanted it to be a surprise. Well I wanted it to be a surprise." He corrects himself when Lisa throws him a look through the rear view mirror.

"Well um okay. Then this just has to play out itself. Hopefully he's happy to see me..?" You were unsure yourself. The little intimate moment you had before he left couldn't dictate how he'd feel now.

"I'm positive he is, but you won't know unless you get up in there. Go ahead! We'll get your stuff," Lisa encourages. You think she's more excited than anyone. You thank her with a kiss on the cheek and high five Scott then head out of the car. You walk up the driveway to the front door. You didn't get the key out your bag so you rang the doorbell.

A few moments, the door is jerked open. You automatically know he didn't even look through the peephole before he opened the door. He needs to stop doing that.

You appear in his vision and he pauses.

"Y/N? Baby?" Incredulity is all in his voice.

"Yes, that is my name." You giggle. "Can I come in?"

"Uh of course! You live here, ya know." He steps back so you can walk inside. Walking through the threshold, you look around the house as if it was foreign to you. For whatever reason, you expected some dramatic changes. One thing that didn't change is his shoes in the middle of the floor. His bad habit.

"Chris what did I say about your shoes in the walkway?" You scold him and move them to the corner with his others. You can't count how many times you've almost fell face first because of his shoes in the way and truthfully, you not watching where you're going.

"Sorry I forget a lot" he says sheepishly with a tiny smile on his face stopping behind you. This makes your corners turn up as well.

You stand facing him and him facing you. Neither of you say anything. You can't tell if it is because you don't know what to say or that you just really missed each other's faces. Before you do speak, Lisa and Scott are inside with your things.

"Oh guys just put that stuff on the couch. Thank you again!" You point to the sofa, absentmindedly moving closer to Chris.

"We need to talk." Turning back to him, you nod. You remember why you're here in the first place. You needed to put an end to this.

"Right. Patio?" You always go out there to have conversations or just to chill with each other. He nods his head and turns to his family.

"We're gonna go outside and talk for a bit. Okay?"

"Oh yes take all the time you need," Lisa exclaims, shooing you both off. Scott is grinning himself. You just smile and walk to the back door onto the patio. Chris follows quickly behind.

Once you both get outside, you sit down. You wouldn't say it was awkward, but there was definitely some tension. You decide to break it.

"I'm really sorry, Chris."

"Baby I'm so sorry."

Guess he wanted to as well. You were about to talk, but he spoke up first.

"I want to apologize first. I was completely wrong here. I was being an asshole and I deserved everything you said to me. And everything Scott said to me as well." He rolls his eyes at that part. You could only imagine the dragging Scott was giving him. "I allowed Megan to disrespect you and that was a dick move. No one should allow their partner to be treated like that. You're were going to my wife and I stooped that low. I'm truly sorry." He searches in your eyes for something to let him know that you forgave him, knew that he was really sorry at least.

You look away about to let the flood come like Noah and the Arc. You've been waiting to hear that for a while and you knew he meant every word. But now it was your turn. Clearing your throat and wiping your eyes, you speak up.

"This isn't completely your fault, baby." You take his hands in yours. "I am also guilty as well. I acted so immature and didn't even truly try to resolve this because I wanted to victimize myself the whole time. Although you were acting like a huge dick, I still played a part. I am so sorry for not planning on telling you about the baby. That was unfair of me. I know that you love me and that I am important to you, so if you still want me to sign the prenup, I'll do it."

Hearing the words come from your mouth surprised you both. He didn't think you'd ever give in and you sure as hell were making sure you wouldn't. But here you are agreeing to it because you love him that much and wanted to make him happy. Your relationship would work so it would never come to be used. You had strong faith in that.

"That's another thing." He shakes his head and you're now confused. "I don't want you to sign a prenup. We're not doing that. I already plan on talking to Megan about it. And I'm going to address her on knowing her place working for me. Since you know that I love you, so fucking much, I don't need to worry about money. Nor a divorce. Like Ma said, we were made for each other and I'll be damned if I let you get away from me."

"So no prenup?" You needed to hear it again.

"No prenup, love." He grins at you, squeezing your hands. You pull from his grip and jump up busting out random dance moves. His mouth is ajar.

"No prenup! Ain't signing no prenup! Lalalalalaaaaa! No prenup!" After your little dance number, you sit back down with no shame. You needed that.

"I'm glad that you finally came to your senses, Christopher. Your mother taught you well" you say in a pompous manner. He just can't help but laugh. You truly were something else.

"We have a little one coming soon and we have to be out best selves for them. Pinky promise each other that we never ever argue and not fix it in a matter of 25 minutes ever again?" He holds out his pinky finger waiting for yours.

"I promise." You wrap yours around his and grin. "So we're good?"

"Well there is one more thing." He stands up and reaches in his pocket. He pulls out your engagement ring and gets on one knee. Just when you had no tears left to cry.

"Y/N, baby, will you be my fianceé again?" You laugh breathlessly and nod your head.

"Yes, you meatball!" He slips the ring back on your finger and you jump in his arms. Almost knocking him over, he grabs your face and kisses you. You wasted zero time kissing him back because you needed it. It had been so long.

Finally pulling away and balancing your breaths like you just ran a 5k, you both make eye contact and burst out into laughter.

"Come on. Let's go tell them." He grabs your hands and you rush inside the house. Heading into the living room you see them both watching with anticipation.

"So?" Scott speaks and they both stand up.

"Guess who's getting married ?!"

HELP-😌 im so proud of myself. i decided to end this with a nice fluff. it was well deserved. i read you guy's comments and it influenced how i wrote it. some of you mentioned immaturity in y/n and that was really valid. and the point about the prenup making sense.

thank you so much for reading. i am honestly so grateful that you guys liked it. i didn't expect it to blow up like it did. im crying now so bye ✌🏽🤧❤

tags:

@mayafatimakhan @attitude-times @shawn-youth @traceyaudette @kyraroseficreblogs33 @radi0active-thoughts @youthought-iwasa-nicegirl @ohbarracuda @katelyneannxo @jennamarieee623 @craycraycraic @ilikeurdad @captainson-of-coul @joanne-stan @ilovetheeagles @cristinagronk16 @kelbabyblue @onyourgoddamnleft @jessycatth @misz-adrii @geminievans1 @saltyflowermakertaco @a-moment-captured @harrysthiccthighss @dauntless2022 @allboutdatmarvel @ineedpineapple @illyrianprincess @ladycumberbatchofcamelot @thesecretlifeofdaydreamss @marianas-studyblr @obliviatevamps @thevelvetseries @coffeebooksandfandom @shamelessfangirl-3 @quietmyfearswith @kissme-hs @lvgllre @arabescapr @careless-intuition @lady-x-red @donutloverxo @princess-evans-addict

[anystalker707]

I Wanna Be Your Slave

Pairing: Frank x [amab] Reader Word count: ~ 2 400 Genre: Fluff / Smut Summary: (Y/n) f*cks Frank harsh as a kind of reward and punishment at the same time. Kind of content: Praising / Hair tugging / Handcuffs / Harsh / Temperature Play / Safe / Dirty talk / Edging / Fingering Requested on Wattpad Help with details by @frank-ieros-lip-ring

*not proofread this is the last part of a 3 parts story, afab reader smut coming soon

"You will never redeem yourself." I light a cigarette, bringing it to my lips. "Stop trying. Once your hands are dirty, the stain never comes off." A smile tugs on my lips, although completely humorless, as I take a drag of the cig, leaning back against the chair, watching the smoke go out through the window. "Not redeeming yourself doesn't mean you can't be a good person. It depends on how much you're up to changing or how well you are with yourself."

"And sleeping at night is just that easy?" Frank raises an eyebrow at me, shifting in his place on the armchair by the other side of the desk.

"If you bury it deep enough." I shrug. "It doesn't matter, honestly. You shouldn't overthink because that's exactly what will end up killing you. Or not. I don't know. I don't like to think about it."

"You're confusing." He twists his lips lightly.

"I guess. But I'm doing well. I'm alive, I'm here, I have you." I let my eyes fall to the papers again, signing my name over the line. "And that's what matters to me."

It's silent, dense. For the first time in a good while, I'm actually the one uncomfortable with the silence I've imposed after my last words and the room has never felt so small. Having feelings for someone like this feels almost wrong. I have a whole company, a whole family to run, but again, it doesn't mean I can't be happy or that I need to live exclusively for them – on the other hand, that'd mean someone else to threaten me with. Sometimes I want to leave Frank.

"I supposed I can live with that," Frank says quietly.

I never look up. A true smile forms itself on my face this time and I only hum in response as I brush the cig's ashes away from the paper.

It's already late at night when I'm heading back to my bedroom, halls dark and only the sound of low chatter filling the ambient. Frank is in the room when I walk in, sitting on the bed only in his underwear, reading a book.

"Who said you could crash here tonight?" I hum, shrugging off my blazer, kicking away my shoes.

"I don't need anyone telling me what I can do or not." He doesn't even look away from his book, turning the page. Not really his book since I can recognize it as one of the books I got in my office.

"True?" I get rid of the suspenders so I can remove my shirt, then do the same with my pants. "Didn't know you'd gotten such a moral around here, Mr. Iero."

"Oh, but I do, actually!" And the way Frank sounds so cynical is somehow so funny.

"Being a bad boy today?" I struggle to hold back a chuckle, suppressing it before I can face Frank. He's about to say something, but I'm taking the book away from his hands first. "Mary Shelley? I never thought you'd like her books. Nothing against, tho," I mutter, marking the page so I can put the book down. "It's a really good book."

"What are you doing?" He shifts on the bed, glaring at me. "I was reading that!"

"You'll have all the time to read, tomorrow." I glare back, but actually amused.

"But–"

"Why don't you stand up for me?" I make a come on motion, ignoring all the questioning looks shot at me.

Frank tenses up, but is eventually doing as told, eyes only meeting mine for a couple of seconds before they're falling to the ground. Not like I need him to look at me right now, after all. I cup his face and let my thumbs run across the soft skin – he leans into the touch, hands resting over my chest.

My lips meet Frank's in a soft kiss, one that's returned only after a few seconds, his lips slowly moving against mine until I set a pace, letting a hand fall to his hip to pull him closer then touch him through the thin underwear; his hands twitch on my chest, closing themselves around nothing.

"Safeword?" I whisper into Frank's ear, giving the side of his face a kiss.

"Redemption," Frank mutters back and I slowly nod.

"Good boy." I step back. "Now, undress and sit on the bed."

Frustration crosses Frank's eyes momentarily, but it doesn't stop him from doing as told, soon becoming unquiet because he's already half hard so, of course, I'm not going to rush things. One by one, the lube, handcuffs, candles and matches come off one of the bedside table's drawers, clearly intimidating Frank.

The candles go on the bedside table, over a couple of saucers whilst a third and a fourth candle are left aside along with the lube, the fire slowly burning and casting a warm light over Frank when I'm finally moving to give him some attention.

Creaking comes from the mattress with it sinking under my knees as I move towards Frank, my hand on his chest slowly pushing him down against the sheets; he chews down on his lip with me straddling his hips, but all I do it for is to use the handcuffs to lock each of his wrists to the bedposts despite his wide eyes watching me in silent complaints. A whine escapes Frank's throat with it, but I silence him with a peck, moving off of him.

"You're not to come until I tell you so, do you understand?" I grab the lube again, kneeling between his spread legs. "As you already know and have experience with, I'll stop at the same moment if you say the safe word. I thought that'd be great to remember."

Frank meekly nods in response, chest falling with an exhale.

The swallows around Frank's hips deform lightly as I sink my thumbs into the skin, rubbing circles into it, and watch him miserably push his hips up. "Please," he mumbles, but I barely give attention to him, starting to press kisses from his belly button down, mouthing around his crotch, seconds that probably feel like forever to him, but compensated with the pleasure once I take the tip of his cock in my mouth. A loud moan comes from him with it, squirming intensifying, in a way I can't help but to feel anxious to finally touch him properly.

I sigh softly, holding onto Frank's hips while taking him in completely, hearing the sound of the metal against clinking the bedposts under the cries coming from him.

"Tell me," I whisper once I pull away, letting my thumb sink into the inside of his thigh to rub circles into it – it's pathetic how he continues whimpering even with such a simple touch. "What are you, Frank?"

"Yours," he manages to say, voice tight.

Great. I fondle his balls lightly, watching his thighs quiver. "My what, hun?"

Frank gasps, a shaky moan escaping his lips. "Slave."

"Good boy." I press a kiss to his thigh and move away from him completely so I can reach for the lube, which makes Frank actually quiet instead of complaining about anything. "I'm gonna fuck you until I come," I tell him, covering my fingers with lube, "and if you come before I tell you to, you'll sort yourself out, okay?"

"No," Frank groans. "I–" He cuts himself off when my fingers start tracing his entrance, feeling it fluttering under my touch, before a finger finally sinks in, which snatches a sound of discomfort from him. "Please, just don't hold me back from cumming, I–" A moan.

"And what if you don't cum until I finish foreplay?" I can't help but to grin. "Then you can cum, but I won't stop until I've done it myself."

Frank mutters something under his breath, something I can't identify whether it's a complaint or a plea, however, he's frantically nodding. "Yes, master."

"Oh, fuck you," I mutter almost in the same moment, feeling my underwear grow way too tight.

With a second finger, Frank is being louder and almost pushing himself down against my hand when I brush against his prostate, not touching it as much as he'd like me to when scissoring and twisting my fingers around. The third finger makes him gasp, only moving more frantically. So hopeless.

"Fuck!" Frank throws his head back and arches his back when I'm pulling my hand away, eyes pressed shut tightly.

"You're doing really well, hun," I whisper, cleaning my hand away so I can reach for a candle.

"S-Sir," he swallows, breathing shakily.

I light the candle with one of the others and, opposite to them, this one burns easier, meaning the wax isn't harmful. Wax soon starts pooling in it and I tilt it to pour the warm liquid over Frank's torso – he lets out a gasp, a moan, as he uselessly tries to escape the inevitable touch of the wax.

"Fuck," he curses, melting down along with the wax.

"Tell me how it feels," I say softly, peeling away some of the dried wax while waiting for more to melt.

"I– It's good," he breathes. "Hurts in a good way." He hums, biting down on his lower lip when I pull onto a chunk of wax. "More, please."

And I do as said, carefully letting it fall over Frank's nipple and appreciating each little sound that escapes his lips – he arches his back like to meet the wax, humming as he moves his hips, pushing himself down and ending up finding a little of friction when his balls meet my leg for a second.

"Such a whore," I whisper, peeling the chunk of wax away from his nipple. "I had no idea you'd like something like this, look at how pathetic you are."

Whatever complaint Frank has is lost among moans once my hand is wrapped around his cock, working on it while I let more of the wax pour over his chest and without many pauses now, snatching a chain of gasps from him whilst he thrusts into my hand.

"S-Sir," he says breathlessly.

"I said not to cum during foreplay." I let go of Frank at the same moment, blowing the half burnt candle out before I can return it to its previous place.

"But master, sir," Frank says and these are honestly the only words I'm able to make out from all the babbling and cries coming from him.

"Shh, baby, it'll be just a moment." I stand up from the bed to get rid of the boxers and grab the lube again. Having my hand around my cock feels like such a relief; I almost immediately gasp, though trying to focus more on lubing myself up than jacking off. "Right," I mutter to myself, returning to kneel down between Frank's spread legs before I can adjust my position, bringing one of his legs up to make things easier. "My pretty boy, all mine," I say softly, "what'd it be of you if it wasn't me, hm?"

"Nothing, sir," he replies. Well, I wasn't waiting for that.

All I do is to flash Frank a smile in response then lean in for a kiss, a short and sweet one.

I use my free hand to guide myself in, not so slowly as Frank doesn't need it at all nor a slow pace at first – his body jerks with the heavy thrusts, instantly snatching high pitched sounds from him with every movement.

Frank is fucking tight, clenching around me each time I slam right back in, not bothering to miss his prostate this time. The pleasure is sent ringing up my spine instantly along with this immense relief, incessantly, and it's all about the small details. Clinking echoes through the bedroom along with the sound of the headboard hitting against the wall, but none of these are as loud as Frank.

"Please– Touch me, sir, touch me," he whines among all the gasps and moans.

"You can cum without it, baby boy," I reply softly, my fingers sinking into his thighs, holding both of them up so I can go in deeper and Frank's squirming shows how successful it is. He starts pleading again, but stops after a harsh slap is delivered to his thigh.

Frank fucking comes. Just now I become aware of his spluttered attempts of telling it to me, which I ignored due to being too focused on observing him and myself instead.

It'd be a lie to say it's like nothing; he immediately tightens around me and my hand shakes, sending some of the wax dripping down my fingers instead. "Fuck, fuck," I mutter, putting out the candle messily so I can set it aside and once again take a hold of Frank's thighs, fucking him through his release.

Frank is so messy, throwing his head back – I don't waste the opportunity, quickly attacking his exposed neck with my lips to leave behind marks among the few tattoos decorating the skin.

His skin is hot. Almost like mine, I imagine, burning, though certainly not as much as the muscles on the back of my thigh, which are already complaining by now with a sharp and annoying pain.

"A good boy, aren't you?" I breathe into his ear, not stopping to thrust in, feeling him pulsate, clench around me just so perfectly. "But also such a whore. Look at how you're letting me use you. Mine and only mine. Who's the only one who can touch you this way?"

"Y-You, sir," he stutters, thighs twitching under my touch already, but it doesn't take long for me to cum already, letting out a low moan escape my lips, mind momentarily going blank with the pleasure climbing up the back of my thighs and unraveling the knot in my lower stomach. My movements don't stop until I can feel the oversensitivity threatening to kick in.

"Hell," I breathe, slowly letting go of Frank. "Hell."

I rest my forehead against Frank's, both of us not sharing a word.

"You did so well, baby, so well," I whisper, moving to release him from the handcuffs and his arms just fall limp to the mattress. Fuck. So small and hopeless. "C'mere." I wrap my arms around him, pulling him close. "Relax for a bit so I can clean you up, hm?" I pull his sweaty strands back from his forehead and press a kiss to it. "I love you, hun."

"Love you, sir," he mumbles, eyes half lidded, though I'm sure he's barely conscious.

[www-artforoddballs]

Alright, so notice. Most of you probably know this, since you're following me for the Autistic Levi stuff (thank you, we're closing in on 100 followers!!!!), but people with autism can have "tantrums". I've kinda touched on this in a previous post (it's a full meltdown, but you can see that post here https://www-artforoddballs.tumblr.com/post/644803780958879744/autistic-levi-angstkinda-i-guess-this-is-him). For those of you who DON'T know, an autistic tantrum is not the same thing as what you'd think of in regards to a toddler or kid, it's just the word used for it. This is a mistake my mother and I made when getting the paperwork done while I was going through testing that later got cleared up lol

I had a tantrum yesterday, and so I figured that I could post about Leviathan having a tantrum, since it's still ready on my mind. I don't care if anyone else is proud of me for coping with it as well as I did, since it's a major improvement from last time I had one, but I am proud of myself!...with that in mind, here we go!!

There will be some angst in this post, like the last post in relation to this one, but like the last post, it turns out fine.

However.

Trigger warning for things such as self harm, both physical and verbal. If you or a loved one is self harming, either reach out to someone for help or reach out to that person to help, yeah?

OK on with the post.

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

First of all, Levi's autism is part of why his brothers always agree to help when there's a raffle for tickets or something like that on the DDD messages, because he can get overwhelmed if they don't at least help, even if he doesn't win in the end.

They figured out that his autism was the culprit for this shortly after his diagnosis.

Now when I'm writing for Levi, I like to think that his diagnosis was around the early 1990s since, while autism was a separate diagnosis in 1980, it didn't really start becoming fairly accepted and expanded upon until 1987. Hence why everyone is mostly used to it by now, but are still sometimes off put by his odd behavior; for them, as beings that have been around since...the beginning of the universe, pretty much as far as we know, but for at LEAST since humans were around (so at VERY least 2.5 million years now, but potentially up to around 7 million years (if they haven't been around since the beginning of creation)), this would be like...I dunno, give me a second.

Waiting

Waiting...

Okay, so from 1990(earliest year I have in mind) to 2019 (the year it was released) is 29 years. That's a minimum of 1/86,206.89th of their lifespan, and a maximum of 1/475,862,068.96th of their total lifetime.

So this is a VERY recent development for them on the grand scheme of things, but I digress.

So they're still figuring everything out, especially as the human race continues to learn about the condition itself.

So the first time Levi threw a tantrum and they recognized it for what it was...it was certainly interesting.

What had happened was exactly the situation described; Levi had wanted to go to a concert in the human world and they were raffling off free tickets. Except, unlike now, his brothers hadn't offered their support. They hadn't in the past, why would this time be any different?

Except now they viewed it through a different light. Leviathan had an image in his head that he desired so badly and had asked his brothers to support him, hopeful, only to be rejected at every turn. That he was used to, but it was still upsetting.

He put that to the side, though. He really wanted to see this band, and these were VIP tickets where you got to hang out with the band for a few hours after the concert! They'd cost a LOT of human money, and while they COULD afford it, he knew Lucifer would be bringing hell down upon him if he used that amount of family funds on a concert. And his anxiety was already somewhat raised, so he decided to enter the raffle on his own.

He sat there for hours, waiting for the results to come in. He'd hyped this up in his brain the entire time; He'd win, go to an amazing concert, have dinner with the band, maybe even make some friends....!...and then the results came back. He hadn't won.

As per usual, our snek boi went into one of his rants about how unfair it was, but instead of going on a rampage or something like that, locked himself up in his room and cried, hating himself for getting so excited over nothing.

As I mentioned before, I've made another post about a tantrum/getting too overwhelmed slipping into something even more dire, as that's almost always what happens to me. This would be in the 90s, so this would be their first real incident with one of these moments where they had the proper diagnosis, so bear with me, there will be some angst here, but like the other post, it'll be fine.

So Mammon ends up feeling bad for rejecting his little brother, and, not knowing it was too late, decided to go to his room and offer his support. It was almost Leviathan's birthday anyways, and Mammon knew how rejection felt and how much it sucked. So, he knocked on Leviathan's door.

No response. He knocked again...still no response, but a quiet sob.

Right away, Mammon switched from semi-carefree to worried. "Levi...?"

Again, no response. He decided to just go in and check on his brother...

The door was locked. And he smelled blood.

"Leviathan, I need you to open the door," Mammon said with a half hearted chuckle, his voice now becoming slightly strained. "Because if ya don't, I'm gonna have t' break the door down."

"Just go away!" Leviathan cried from inside his room. "Just leave me alone, you jerk!"

"I ain't goin' anywhere. Either open the door or I'm gonna break it down. Those are your two choices."

A moment of silence, before Mammon sighs, stretching, as he transforms into his demon form.

"Alright, option two it is."

He rammed into the door repeatedly, before the wood finally splintered and fell to the ground with a loud thud. Mammon quickly looked around, eyes widening as he saw Leviathan digging his own sharpened nails into his arms, multiple raked wounds, made by the same culprit, carved into his skin.

"Levi...look at ya..." Mammon said, voice faltering, tears welling up in his eyes. "I...how long has..."

"Just shut up! Don't act like you care about me, I'm the freak of our family, remember?! I'm the one whose brain isn't right, I'm just a shut-in, good for nothing, re-!"

He was quickly cut off by Mammon going to him and hugging him.

"I don't care who you are. You talk about my brother like that again and I'll kill you. Alright? You're a little off, but you ain't a freak, and your brain works just fine as is. You're perfect just the way you are, and if anybody else says any different, I'm gonna beat them the fuck up. Including you. Got that? So what if you've got that fancy lable on ya now...? Labels like that matter, but it didn't change ya. You're still my cringe, annoying as hell little weirdo of a brother...and I wouldn't have ya any other way."

Leviathan fully listened to Mammon talk, before clinging to him, breaking down sobbing again, and trying to explain what happened through his tears, the older demon gently rubbing his back and allowing him to cry it out, making sure no more harm was done.

A while later, once Levi had calmed down, Mammon ruffled his hair.

"Let's get you cleaned up, yeah? Lucifer is already gonna kill me for breaking your door, but he'd be even more pissed if I just left you here with those wounds."

So they did. And Mammon, after telling a VERY angry Lucifer what had happened hours later, had surprisingly NOT gotten chewed out by the eldest brother. Instead, that day, the entire family had a long discussion, and they all agreed that if it was something as small as entering a raffle, or even if it was bigger but not an inconvenience to anyone in the slightest, they'd all help out from then on. It's not like it was hard, and it would save Levi from hours of stress and negativity toward himself and others around him.

They also made a plan for if a tantrum were to happen while someone was around, or if he became too overwhelmed and started to spiral...because, as annoying as he could be, Leviathan was still family. And they loved him, oddities and all.

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

Alright, so...that was the post! I hope it was okay. I know I've written about this type of thing before a little, but different situations can end up with the same negative outcome, like being in an overwhelming situation, or not being able to change your thinking and not easily being able to get over your expectations. I've personally suffered with both, and it's a regular thing for me, so I like writing about it, because maybe, just maybe, it'll help someone out, or help someone that isn't autistic understand a friend or relative or classmate or employee better. And I love these characters, I really do. The only ironic thing is that I see so much of myself in Leviathan, but I adore him and despise myself. Go figure 😂

Regardless, I hope you enjoyed, and if there's anything you guys have questions about (in regards to me and my experience), or any specific writing requests, asks are fully open!

Thanks so much for being here to support me, you have no idea how much it means to a little oddball such as myself.

[herstarburststories]

I'd die for you, come kill me

Kinktober Day 11: restrained

Pairing: Demon!Dean x Reader

A/N: This one goes for my good friend followers celebration. So happy for your milestone, @msmarvelouswinchester! Divider by @talesmaniac89.

@stillintheimpala said: i have a fic idea. demon!dean stuck in a chair on handcuffed to a bed with those demon proof handcuffs. he's completely at your mercy. you get to dom him. (I put ropes instead of handcuffs because of the gif)

Prompt: Remember how I said I'd die for you.

Warnings: angry sex, p in v, riding, restraints, power play, smangst, angst, kind of hopefully ending (?), demon!dean acts like demon!dean

“Where is he?”

Sam sucked in a breath, moving his shoulder uncomfortably as he straightened his posture. The youngest Winchester's features contorted into a grimace, and you couldn't tell if it was because of the look on your face or him jarring his dislocated arm. “He's in the dungeon, but Y/N-”

“He isn't himself. I know that. Kinda noticed when he threw me against the wall and said he couldn't wait to rip my throat out with his teeth.” You gave Sam a humorless grin before you gestured to the wound on your shoulder. “This is a good reminder as well.”

“We'll cure him.” Sammy nodded at you, wrapping his words with faith and determination; he was always a believer.

You arched your eyebrows. “Then what are you waiting for?”

You two were still standing in the living room as Dean's howl rushed through the air. He sounded more like a beast than a man, yet he was smack dab in the middle of those polarized states. He was human enough to know where to strike and animal enough to relish in the attack.

Sam's gaze softened on yours.

“I know he hurt you. He hurt both of us, but Dean is my brother. I can do it alone. You don't need to-”

“Sam, he ran away once, and you just got your arm yanked out of your socket. You won't be able to fight him. You need backup,” you interrupted him. Despite your conclusion being completely rational, there was more to it than that, but Sam didn't need to know about it yet. “Besides, it's Dean.”

The hunter glanced at you. Gentle eyes watching your jaw harden, he pressed his lips together and nodded. “Okay.”

Dean's demonic self had been throwing insults like a man feeding his dog shattered glass. He was full of them, not caring about hiding his satisfaction when he hits yours and Sam's weak spots.

A couple of seconds ago, he had called you an easy pussy that saved him the job of having to go out and get some. That display rewarded him with a thicker needle that pierced much deeper than it needed to. The pure human blood spread into his veins as a holy wash, like soap over a flesh wound. Dean growled in pain and went quiet for a while.

Your eyes abandoned the demon for once, directed now to his brother. Sam's earthy brown eyes were drawn in concern, mouth sketched into a frown. His healthy arm was onto his shoulder, obviously physically hurting.

“Sam, go. I can do it. It’s just two more needles. He'll probably pass out once it's done,” you pleaded in an attempt to catch Sam's rational side that always saw the order in chaos. His hazel orbs settled on you, and you knew he didn't want to leave his brother. You can't blame him for that. You didn’t either, but if Dean was in his right mind, he'd want that. And you needed some time alone with this demon version of your boyfriend. “Please.”

You didn’t know if it was something in your cracking voice or if the fact his brother regaining control meant he’d have even harsher words to spit, but when the tall man’s eyes swept from you to his brother and back, he sighed. In that moment, you knew he accepted it. 

“If he doesn't pass out…”

“I call you right away. Don't worry, and please take some meds for your pain.” You offered some tenderness to him in the middle of the violence through a lovingly smile. In a matter of seconds, the only traces of Sammy in the room were the boot-clad clamor of his footsteps growing quieter and quieter.

“Now you have me all to yourself, sweetheart. What are you planning to do?”

The lopsided grin was still attached to his face, and those were still his teeth. Still, something about Dean's smile made you want to rip him apart with your nails. How did he let this happen? How did the situation escalate like this? How did everything get so bad so fast?

“Shut up,” you hissed through your teeth, boots clicking on the floor as you approached him. Dean glanced at you shamelessly; the pretty little bruise on your skin proving that he had succeeded in breaking you. It twisted his guts in both good and bad ways — the bittersweet contradiction among lovers. 

“Feisty, huh? I always liked that on you. Who would guess that you were a bottom in bed?” Dean appeared to find your fury entertaining as if he relished any emotion he could instigate inside you.

“I said shut up.”

“Or what? You are gonna sting me with a flimsy syringe needle like I did to you with my cock? Go ahead, sweetheart.”

The idiotic nickname burned your insides. As your and Dean's relationship got more serious, he'd stop calling you that. You weren't just a fling or a woman he'd leave the next day, and the Winchester only called you that either sarcastically or during an argument now. Was this how the demon saw you? Just another sweetheart?

Dean smirked at your quietude, poking the bear once again. “What? Demon got that smart tongue of yours? It's embarrassing, really. You get all worked up, pretending to be that tough gal, but you can't hurt me. You didn't even fight back when I tried to kill you. How weak is that? You’ve always been a liability. Just another woman I had to protect to get inside her.”

You warned him, the words coming out more like a groan than anything else: “Shut up!”

Yet, Dean persisted. He had discovered your weakness, and he couldn't wait to see how much you could take. You'd end up giving in to him, thrashing headfirst into a fight, and he'd escape again. The demon was counting on that. “A waste of time, really. At least you had a nice pussy, but I scratched it open. It's useless now, just like you.”

The dismissal in his words laced with the cynical chuckle that left his mouth made you hit your breaking point. 

“I TOLD YOU TO SHUT THE FUCK UP!” You grabbed a syringe and stung Dean like a scorpion, right in the jugular. He wanted to set you on fire? Good, you'd make sure he got burnt too. “I said I'd die for you. Remember how I said I'd die for you? And you tried to kill me.” You grunted, throwing the empty needle away. Dean's normally forest green eyes went black as howls of outrage escaped his mouth. The blood of saints that coursed through his body was a good way to either turn the beast into a man again or kill him completely. Knowing this, he screamed and struggled in the chair, as desperate as a rat stuck in a mousetrap. It made you doubt the cure. Perhaps a good thing couldn't save him now, the whispers of sulfur that colored his heart black too intrinsic to eradicate without killing the host. You couldn't bring yourself to care about it now. The demon was suffering, and he deserved it. You wanted your own hurt ricochet back to where it came from: him. “Now you are sitting there talking about me like I'm your bitch or something like that, but I'm not. I can take care of myself, and I don't need you. I chose to stay here.”

Dean blinked, and suddenly everything was in place again. His face softened like it usually did when you two were alone, and an actual smile conquered his features. All the oxygen in your body caught in your throat.

“You're right. You are a strong, independent woman, and I should feel lucky to get myself a keeper like you.” His voice filled the dungeon with light-hearted relief. Your cheeks were hurting as you scooted closer to him. “I missed you so much.”

He was saying all you wanted to tell him the minute he left. Your eyes got glossy, and you threw yourself on his lap, clutching to him like devout patron to her bible. Dean was here. He came back to you.

A quiet gasp of praise left your mouth: “Dean-”

He interrupted whatever you were about to say, replacing your words with a kiss. A sweet one — sweeter than anything you might imagine. It was the kind of kiss shared for two lovers in the dark, recognizing each other’s bodies by touch alone. You, of course, allowed yourself to get lost in the sensation of belonging. You shouldn't have. You should never just jump into someone, or you might drown. It's hard to find corpses in a black river.

Yet, your soul was tied to the righteous sinner, so you kept pressing your lips to his while he devoured your mouth softly.

“Sammy doesn't understand, Y/N,” he said. When he pulled away, you nuzzled into his neck. The heated tang to his murmured sentiments remained there, but his voice, less gruff than usual, fooled you. “I finally don't have the weight of the world on my shoulders. I'm free. I never thought I'd be happy after that night…” Dean wore the façade, even gulping at the thought. He didn't know if it was because the human blood was slowly coursing into the core of his being, but he wouldn't waste time on it. “But I can now. We can run away together, leave Sam behind. Just me and you.”

What did you expect? He was a demon. The blame was on you for expecting repentance from the ashes of hellfire. This isn't a fairytale where the hero suddenly is hit by true love and everything is solved with the ultimate kiss. This is a hunter’s tale, and there's just one ending for those stories: the prey dying.

You lifted your head. “Dean would never leave Sam behind.”

Dean burst into laughter as if your hope was some sort of funny joke. He adjusted his hips in the chair, smirking at you with cruelty.

“Bet it almost got you. I could see your eyes shining with hope. You were ready to get on your knees and suck my cock. You’d be screaming Dean, Dean, Dean, and inevitably fall for some stupid lies.” He shook his head with disappointment. “You're too easy, Y/N.”

“Who do you think you are?” The indignancy in your tone only drew a malicious grin out of Dean. This was too good. He could feel his cock hardened in his pants. He might fuck you before killing you only to make good use of his time.

“I'm a demon. What about you? Oh, wait! I know the answer to that one.” He licked his lips, savoring the moment. “You're a little-”

Smack.

The palm of your hand met Dean's cheek harshly, transferring some of your anger into a red mark on his right cheek. The eldest Winchester's head was tilted to the side from the impact. He clenched his jaw before turning his glare at you, eyes back in black as he spoke: “You shouldn't have done that.”

Every syllable that left his tongue was imbued with a threatening crimson rage, but you didn't care. Not now.

You weren't scared of him.

“You shouldn't be a demon, but here we are,” you remarked, summoning a smarmy leer and wearing it like one of his flannels. “Shut up. I know you're not my Dean. You are just all he hates in himself wrapped with his skin. You're disgusting, cruel, and selfish.” It didn’t make any sense for your body to be as heated up as it was, but it was. And Dean didn’t care. Fuck him. “You’ve spent so long aiming at our Achilles’ heel that you forgot you have yours too. Stupid.” You chortled, grinding your hips on his. At this point, both your panties and emotional stability were ruined. “Look at you, all hard for the girl basically torturing you with poison, huh?”

“You-” He attempted to speak, to put you down so he can climb over you. You stopped him with a hand inside his pants.

“Language, Dean,” you groaned at him. It wasn't unusual for you and Dean to blow off some steam with sex, either after a fight or a hunt, but, this? It’s a whole new level of fucked. Yet somehow, your pussy didn't seem to mind, and neither did his cock. You got his length free, and his stiffened cock slapped his clothed belly. “I don't wanna hear something that makes me angry because if I get mad, then I won't let you come inside my pretty pussy. Understood?”

He groaned in response, trying to move his hands to show you who the real alpha was here, but the rope kept him in place. Silence lanced through the air because you knew you didn't want to waste time on something as exciting as foreplay; he did not deserve that, and you didn't want this. You just lifted your red skirt and slid your panties to the side. Your pussy swallowed his cock painfully slow.

The demon that ate your lover didn't offer mumbled protests at the fact you were still wearing clothes. Your Dean always tried to get any piece of fabric away because he liked to see all of you. This Dean, though, gulped and glared at you. Pleasure flushed his cheeks only he can’t deny the physical pleasure. It’s clear that, even as a demon, he could never reject the carnal appeal of your body and your sweet, soaked pussy. Hands pinned behind his back with the restraints, you two in the middle of a big demon symbols on the ground, he was completely at your mercy. He was helpless.

Dean bucked his hips to get all of his hardness inside you right way, to show both you and himself that he still had the power here. You barely blinked before moving your hips up, restricting him further entrance into your cunt. Dean was always eager when it came to sex, but you knew this wasn't about just fucking you anymore. You were in control.

Placing your hands on his shoulders, you murmured in an increasingly sultry bite: “I'm the one making the rules here. Take it or leave it.”

“Fucking a demon? That's why you told Sammy to go with all the crap about caring for his arm?” the former hunter remarked. You and he both knew Dean wouldn't — couldn’t, not with half his cock being squeezed by your tightness — leave your pussy, but he still very much had the capacity to bite.

“Unlike you, I worry about the people I love.”

“I don't love,” he snarled, watching you swallow the malcontented lump in your throat. “Hear that? I don't love you.”

“Then at least be useful and fuck me,” you groaned, finally resting wholly in his lap with all of his dick inside of you. Dean whimpered, overthrown by the sensation of your heady tightness encompassing his cock. He tried to break free again, starved to grab your thighs, your ass, any part of you he could get his hands on, but the rope limited his range of motion. The raw polyester and nylon mix around his wrists was a contrast to the warmth of his lap. His eyes closed, blinking only back into wakeful blackness because of your promise disguised as a hissed threat: “No, forget it. I'll be the one fucking you.”

There was something delightfully mercurial about the way you rode Dean. The dungeon once filled by his pained screams had now become the perfect studio for your flexing thighs slapping against his, your breathless moans camouflaging the raw hurt of your heart, and the unique sound of Dean's cock sunk to impossible degrees inside your needy cunt. He leaned in for more.

This was no longer about the sexual release for him. It was for the tiny part of Dean that always craved an order to follow. It was the small piece of him that craved carrying the weight of responsibility heavy on his back like the burden Atlas had to bear. It was the liberation of the heavy chains that held him down since he was a child, even if his hands were — appropriately enough — tied behind his back. As a demon, he didn’t have to worry, and neither did he when submissive to you. For you, it was expelling your revenge on this devilish version of the man you loved. He had it coming.

“I hate you. I hate having to save you. I hate caring about you.” You huffed, nails sinking in his clothed shoulder. The ghost of your touch was enough to make his dick twitch inside you. Tears brimmed in your eyes as the goosebumps rose your spine, and every time you sunk on his cock brought you closer to collapse. All Dean did was to praise your name with a moan. “I hate how good you feel inside me.” You sobbed, increasing your rhythmic and going fast and rougher on his cock. Your walls were tightening around his dick. Your untouched clit rubbed against the fabric, but it didn't matter. This wasn't about pleasure. “I hate that it’s you and not him.” That's not my Dean.

That caught his attention. Dean’s shoulders grew rigid. He was ready to catch a glimpse of warring emotions of hatred and disgust on your face, but he wasn't prepared for the crushingly forlorn refraction of loss and dispair he found there. 

The knight of hell should feel satisfied. That was what he wanted, wasn't it? Destroying you, turning the woman the human version of himself loved into a walking catastrophe so you wouldn't dare bring him back.

Apparently, the priorities changed. Maybe the blood was really effective, slowly disintegrating his armor into flesh again. It was the only explanation for all the humanly emotions he was experiencing.

Dean felt the conflict building as if hurting you was physically tearing him apart. His eyes contracted into livid green again, shining like the moon with tears he didn't dare drop. He was still a demon, bratty heart or not.

Yet, there was only so far a man could control himself. His lips were treacherous for your name, echoed more like a plea than anything: “Y/N-”

“Shut up! I don't wanna hear your voice. You said I'm your little bitch, nothing but a whore to you, huh? Guess what, asshole. You are my bitch now, and you’re gonna like it.” The little monster in you hummed happily to your authority, glad to finally punish someone for the incitement of agony inside your guts. You closed your eyes, riding Dean ferociously.

Dean Winchester might have been a cage to your feelings, but at least it was golden.

You said you'd be here. You said you wouldn't leave me. Your thoughts corroded your wearied heart as you tried to fuck them away with Dean's weeping cock. You could feel he was close, and you were constantly hitting your G-spot with eagerness, your sweat and harrowed feelings gushing over. You said I didn't need to leave. You said we'd find a way through this. You lied, you lied, you lied. 

I trusted you, and you destroyed me. You hurt me and Sam, and I can't even blame you for it. He knew all your enemies started out as friends. He knew how much it would hurt you if he got the mark. He knew how it would break you if he said those words, demon or not. And you know you can't put this blame on Dean’s shoulders, but you were suffocating and needed fresh air. The sacrificial game wasn’t always a virtuous act. So, you dropped yourself down hard, appreciating the way his cock hit the right spot over and over again. It forced your body to feel good despite your restless mind. I hate you. You made me go crazy. And I miss you.

What was the saying? Man makes the promise, and the demon makes him break it.

Dean's fixated you. He wanted to get free of his cuffs and cup your cheeks, see you lean into his touch so he could wipe away the tears that started to fall and haven't stopped in minutes. He wanted to tell you he was here, not completely, but he was here. He wanted to apologize and make it better, but he didn't. His white skin was burning red because of how hard he was trying to move his hands, hair moving by your movements and his. The semi-human groaned like the remainder of the beast clutching his strings when he hit his orgasm and spread his seed inside you. You whined like a broken toy as you came all over his cock.

It felt good, for a while. It was nice, feeling good.

You stayed there a little more, gaining control over yourself while he softened inside of you. Dean was doing the same in an attempt to stifle his human emotions from surfacing. He wasn't going to be weak anymore. He couldn't be because for once in his life, he hadn’t hated himself. 

You coughed, using the chair to hoist yourself to your feet. His cum dripped from your pussy, dampening his still-clothed thigh. You sniffed, grimacing a little when you noticed that your face wasn't wet with sweat. You’d been crying. 

That only made you madder at yourself.

“Fuck it,” you groaned, putting his dick back into his pants before zipping him up.

Dean smirked in a final attempt to turn the table and get on your nerves again. “That's what we just did.”

You didn't waste more of your heart on him. Taking the last needle, you sunk the devil into his sharp skin and pressed the plunger with all the fervor of pulling a gun's trigger. He screamed like the rush of humanity flowing into him was a shot to the heart.

Your legs were trembling when you threw the object away and hugged yourself, focused on Dean's fragile body in front of you. 

He looked down, eyes shutting a few times as if he was waking up before lifting his head to look at you. 

“Y/N?” His voice was back to its gruff drag, but it was carrying a strand of vulnerability and care that he had only ever directed at you. Dean frowned, confusedly watching you and the place around you both, not to mention himself. “Y/N, what happened?”

He didn't remember anything. He didn't remember the terrible things he’d done. He didn't remember the words said.

You gulped, the back of your hand pressed against your wet cheeks. “I'm going to get Sam.”

The demon may have gotten teary-eyed, but the human Dean was the one letting the tears slide down his cheeks as you turned around and left, almost running to get away from him. He didn't even know why.

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[noblest-roman-of-them-all]

So yesterday was Logan's birthday, I didn't get this done in time, but I was in bed before 11, which I feel like he'd be resigned, but thankful for that.

I didn't have a piece of art planned for this, honestly, between work, school, and NaNo, it really snuck up on me. But I still wanted to take a minute to say thank you to @thatsthat24 for sharing Logan with us, and to Logan himself for what I have learned because of him in this series.

I didn't start watching the series till about a season in, but when I did, my friend made me start from the beginning. And it's had a pretty big impact on me since. To this day I can't hear "cognitive distortion" without immediately echoing "Häagen-Dazs dispersion!" I just can't, the echolalia is too strong.

I have anxiety. And one of the things I really struggling with is magnification/catastrophizing, with a heavy dose of mental filtering.

These are things...I didn't even know existed till I watched My Negative Thinking. I'm not always good at recognizing it right away, but I'm getting better at it. And I'm getting better at reminding myself that, sometimes, stepping away from the thing increasing my anxiety can be beneficial.

There's definitely a balance there and it's hard to find. But I'm learning and I'm trying and I am getting better.

And while I probably would have learned about these things eventually, I was able to learn them in a way that...really made it easy to remember. And in a way that has helped me.

I can't tell you the number of times I've become angry or irritated and it came down to me being anxious and/or dehydrated which are things I wouldn't have thought to look at if Logan hadn't talked about them in the videos.

I have a very long way to go in working on my mental health. I'm just gonna be honest, it's not great right now.

But the things that Logan has taught me over the years are helping. So thank you for that, Logan.

Thank you for teaching me what cognitive distortions are, and how to spot and combat them.

Thank you for reminding me to take care of my body, to hydrate and rest.

Thank you for all that you have taught me and all the help that those things have been.

Happy Birthday.

[madame-brioche]

Title: Angel On The Battlefield part 2

Author: madame-brioche

Prompt: Heffron x nurse reader

Warning: some angst

When you found Babe in his foxhole, he was curled up like a newborn pup in the snow and dirt, wearing the dingy green uniform that the other paratroopers wore, his helmet pulled down low and his nose and mouth tucked into the collar of his jacket. He was asleep, grasping his thin blanket tightly and sniffling sharply every few seconds. His face was the color of the snow, the tip of his nose a frostbitten red. Big ash-colored circles had formed under his eyes, and as you took his hand you realized it was beginning to turn an unnatural sort of color, like they'd been submerged in hot water.

You could see that Babe looked much weaker than he'd been the last time you checked on him.

As you smoothed back sweat-drenched strands of hair, you found his forehead very warm to the touch; and when you tried to get him to wake up, you had to call his name and gently shake him a little bit before his eyes opened. Once he woke up he grabbed at his side especially hard. As you helped him get into a sitting position, his eyes sort of rolled back and his head hung loose like a rag doll.

"Y/N..." He whimpered, falling against the crook of your arm. "Jesus, I've got a deep burning pain in my side..."

"You’re burning up," you said, trying to steady his shoulders. "Doc Roe told me you weren't feeling so good. When was the last time you ate, Private? You should probably get a hot meal."

He shook his head as much as he could, which was only a little. "I ain't hungry. I've been feeling like this for a few days now, but this," he gripped his side again, "something's wrong..." As he stood up, the pain seemed to increase a little bit, and he stared down at you worriedly, bringing his hand away from his side and holding it up to reveal blood staining his palm and fingers. "Oh," he whispered, with a small wince.

"Dear God," you breathed, pulling his jacket away and seeing a rather large pool of blood soaking his shirt. You lifted up the hem to find a gaping wound on his left side, the dried blood caked around the wound telling you it had gone untreated for a bit. The blood that was pouring out now must have been the result of him standing. "Why didn't you say anything? When were you shot? You're bleeding!"

Babe looked down at the gunshot wound as if seeing it for the first time. "I'm bleeding," he repeated numbly.

"Hey, look at me," you snapped, turning his chin so he would gaze back up at you. "When did you get hit?"

He looked around in a dizzy haze, shrugging his shoulders with some difficulty. "I remember...hearing Shifty call for me...and I ran to help him hold the line...somewhere along the way, I guess..." He trailed off, looking like he was about to collapse at any second. "I don't know, I woke up to you shaking me."

Your mouth was agape as you listened, wondering how in the hell he hadn't completely bled out. He must've passed out from a combination of both the pain from the wound and his fever.

He produced a weak smile and then cringed as he tried to move. "It certainly is nice to see you."

You returned his smile with a firm look of determination and brushed some more hair out of his face. "Everything will be alright. But you’re coming with me. We need to get you fixed up."

“Whatever you say,” he managed as you placed his hand back on the wound, trying to keep pressure on it. He grabbed onto your sleeve, with the other hand, looking very anxious and maybe a little scared. "I can't, Y/N—I cant leave them, they need me, what would happen if—"

"It's okay," you said, holding on to him tighter. "I'm sure they'd rather you get better. At any rate, what good will it do if you stay and fight with an open wound and a fever?”

Nodding and then stumbling a little as you pulled him toward the Jeep, he coughed painfully, causing you and the Jeep driver to exchange a worried look.

As soon as the Jeep arrived at the remaining ruins of the town, you opened the door to a church that had been cleared out for the sick and wounded, guiding him into the cool, incense-thick air. Just as soon as he'd reached the top of the staircase, Babe slumped against the wall again, screaming in pain. But the cry itself took a lot out of him, and you barely caught him in time as he collapsed. The two of you sat down for a moment to rest, his groans of agony making you nervous about the severity of the wound.

"Y/N," he mumbled as you pulled him close to you and hugged him tightly, "I don't have one on me, but I need—"

You caught on to what he was rambling about. "Right," you said, leaning him against the stairway wall and then standing up to head for the back of the church. "You wait here, I'll get you morphine."

"N-no," he called out after me, his voice hoarse. "Not morphine. I n-need a cigarette."

As you worked your way through the crowded hall, you could feel him holding onto one of your hands, like a captain clinging to his sinking ship. One look back at him and you saw his bloodshot eyes start to look glassy with tears. And the way he was staring at you was like he didn’t really recognize who you were.

"You’re too good to me," he mumbled, causing you to pause and gently wrap your arms around him again, careful not to hurt the wound.

"You stop talking like that," You said, trying not to cry. Maybe it was the lack of sleep; maybe it was the awful scenes of carnage and war; and maybe it was thrilling rush at hearing Babe Heffron admit his fondness for you during such a tense time; no matter the reason, the very idea of his death made you sick to your stomach.

"It’ll be okay," You reassured him, looking up at him and wiping some stray tears away from his cheeks. "You can be a brave soldier for me, right? I know you can. And once this is all over," You added with a smile, "you'll be home in South Philly in time for Christmas."

He laughed softly, then shrugged as best he could. "Hopefully—hopefully you'll be there too, Y/N?" He said.

Not really thinking clearly, you could only mumble, "Hopefully. Yeah."

Seeming a little afraid, Babe whispered, "I never meant to get shot, or get sick, Y/N. I thought I was taking care of myself alright—"

"You’ll be fine," You said. "We need to focus on getting you better."

Suddenly you eyed a pile of discarded uniforms and, jogging over to them, you fished around in the pockets until you found a pack of cigarettes. You lit one and brought it back to Babe, who took liberal drags from it. He didn't complain at all when a few hot ashes fell onto his hand, reveling in the calming effect it had on his pain; but his problem with coughing only seemed to be getting worse, and it wasn't easy for him to speak.

Once he blew out a few grey clouds, though, the nicotine appeared to take hold of him pretty quick, easing his nerves enough so that you could pull him up and help him down the stairs. Alas, after a few steps, Babe trembled again and screamed, this one sounding a lot more desperate and gut-wrenching, like a wounded animal caught in a trap. The two of you were just outside the door to what appeared to be a bedroom with a single cot, and you decided the best thing would be to take him in and get him on the bed and quarantined away from the others.

"No!" Babe gasped, as you ushered him to the door. "No, Y/N, we can’t go in there! That’s the priest's cloister, we can't, it’s sacred!"

"Hey," You stopped him, gently pushing him down onto the thin, white spread that covered the cot. You'd forgotten how devout he was. "I’m sure he won’t mind." As his head hit the pillow, you scanned the room for something to warm him with, finally landing on a mosaic-like quilt that was folded up on a bench by a stain-glass window. "There," You said, tucking him in as he shivered. "You need to keep breathing slowly, in and out. Don’t work yourself up."

Even with all his shaking, Babe was able to tug the quilt up around him, nuzzling into it. "I forgot what having a bed felt like," he whispered.

You knelt down on your knees next to the bed and stroked his hair, a small smile playing at your lips. "It's nice, right?"

He groaned in pain once more, and you took the dying cigarette from his shaking fingers and put it out. You removed your cantine from around your neck. "You want some water?"

"Yeah," he said, but he just couldn't keep it down without having another coughing fit. Frightfully rolling around with his hand on his side, he whimpered out, then began to bite his lip so hard he drew blood.

You needed to treat that wound fast, and so, urging Babe to fight a little longer, you bolted into the hall and tried to find one of the other medics who might be able to help. You called out for several, but everyone was busy helping those with blown off limbs and life-threatening damage to the viscera.

Worriedly, you ran back down to Babe. Exhaling a shaky breath you didn’t even know you were holding, you realized that Babe had stopped his agonizing tremors, for the time being. You crouched beside him, holding his sweaty, blood-stained hand to your cheek and leaning into it ever so slightly.

He rolled over and offered you a half-wink. "I heard you out there. Calling for a medic..."

"One will be here soon," You said, shaking your head. Then you added softly, “Are you going to be brave for me, Babe?"

He nodded. "You’re the brave one, Y/N," he mumbled, his grin widening. "A brave angel." His eyes floating to look at the stain-glass, Babe breathed out a sharp, painful sigh. "I’ve dreamt about you taking care of me. But now that I’m living it, I ain’t sure it’s what I want. I was thinking more along the lines of you kissing a paper cut or something..." he teased with a broken laugh. Then his grin faded, worrying you immediately, until his face scrunched up into a look of confusion. “Though I gotta know, Y/N—”

"What, Babe?"

"Why? You crying over me like this — why?”

You nuzzled against his hand again. "That doesn't sound like the happy-go-lucky guy I know," you said. "How can I expect to visit you in South Philly if I left you out in the cold?"

He raised his other hand and gently hit your shoulder. "Come on," he said. "Why, Y/N?"

"Ask me when you get better. You're not thinking clearly."

"I'm askin' you now. Why?"

You just looked away and closed your eyes for a moment, then took his hand into both of yours tightly. "Because I like you, Babe."

"Perhaps," he breathed, "perhaps you might love me, too?"

You smiled again. "Well, perhaps I might."

This time he brought your gaze up to meet his with a hand under your chin. "I knew it," he replied, his lips forming a delicate smile, "you can’t even say it out loud, not even for me..." Then he looked back at the stain-glass, his eyes reflecting the flares outside. "Huh, Y/N might love me, too?” He mumbled in a state of stunned amusement. “Interesting.”

The stain-glass vibrated a bit at the sound of distant war outside. Babe didn't even flinch, however. After he’d said those words he’d closed his eyes and fallen asleep, exhaustion and immense pain taken hold of him. You kissed his hand, keeping it close to your cheek and hearing his heartbeat through his wrist. Resting your head against the side of the bed, you waited for a medic to come in...

You woke up to a hand on your shoulder, softly shaking you awake, expecting it to be the medic. But instead you found Captain Winters, pulling you away gently from the now empty bed.

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Thirty-Eight

Table of Content or Part Thirty-Seven

Read here on wattpad

A/N: Question — what song do you think of when you think of Nikki and Viv? I'm trying to see something

Word count: 3.3k

Warning(s): Explicit language, Sexual situations, Drug abuse

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My bare feet hook underneath his thighs the second I realize he's about to  finish and he gives a crooked smirk up at me, his breathing beginning to shallow.

Nikki holds my hips still, groaning out as his cum coats the inside of me, causing me to let out a hazey moan, my mind cloudy from our rather lengthy round.

Once he's finished, I'm getting off of him and falling beside him, catching my breath as we recover is silence fore several minutes.

"Are you on birth control or something?" He asks me out of nowhere and I tense up, looking at him.

"Why're you asking?"

"I've been thinking about it since Vince and Sharise had Skylar, for some reason. I mean, I haven't used a rubber since we started dating and most of the time I don't pull out, and we've only had one pregnancy scare in the past, what, like, four years?"

"You've managed to keep track of how long we've been together?" I ask him, pretending to be shocked and he gently hits my arm with the back of his hand, and I chuckle, rolling over to face him, my lips pressing to his bicep for a moment.

I think I'm in the clear, dodging his question, but I'm not.

"I'm being serious, Viv, are you on something or...?" He asks and I lick my lips.

"Maybe my antidepressant affects fertility, I don't know." I shrug, lying through my teeth. "Drugs can cause issues on your end, too, so maybe that's another reason."

"Oh." He replies.

I avoid looking at him, sitting up, swinging my legs over the side of the bed before reaching down to grab his shirt by my feet.

You know those lies, that start simple and small, and then snowball more and more over time and explode in flames from hell that melt the snow and turn it into scalding hot water that leaves third-degree burns on the person that's being lied to? Yeah, we both had lots of those, and that was one of mine.

I

take a shower and brush my teeth, excited for my plans tonight, and as I start putting makeup up on, Nikki's getting in the shower.

"Are you and Robin going out tonight?" I ask him.

"Uh, yeah. Sparkie's coming, too." He replies and I roll my eyes.

I know they'll go out to a club and hide in the bathroom, shooting up and snorting blow a  majority of the time, only leaving to get some drinks.

"My doctor was really curious as to why I needed a refill so soon being that he gave me a month supply a week before Sparkie traded it." I comment to remind him Sparkie's a piece of shit.

"Sparkie learned his lesson, baby." He tells me in a half-chuckle and I raise my brows at myself in the mirror and turn the sink on.

"Jesus fuck, Viv!" He screams, being bombarded with ice cold water for a moment.

"Awe, I'm sorry, maybe Sparkie can sympathize with you." I reply smartly.

He's getting out of the shower, covered in suds, glaring at me, and I take off running with him chasing close behind.

"Spoiled brat!" He calls at me, the both of us naked as jaybirds.

"Trader bastard!" I say back, right before he catches me, pulling me against his wet, soapy body, his hands not skipping a moment to start tickling me.

I squeal, the both of us falling to the floor, my feet and legs kicking out of instinct.

"Don't you do it." He threatens. "Remember what happened last time."

"Not my fault you're a pussy." I reply, immediately regretting it when he starts tickling me again, this time, getting on top of me to pin me down.

He doesn't let up until I'm laughing so hard I'm in tears, and he's tired of struggling with me.

We look at each other for a minute, before he grins and kisses me.

"I gotta finish getting ready." He tells me, getting off of me and helping me up.

"Yeah, I do, too."

I decided a nice trip to Malibu would be a great thing for GN'R. I mean, go to Tansy's house there, have her invite over some of her single girl friends to mingle with the guys, stay over night so they don't have to worry about whether or not they'd be able to crash at their stripper friends' apartment and sleep on the floor that night, have a nice breakfast together the next morning, and just give Axl and Izzy time to really get to know Tansy, because they haven't hung out with her very much, while Slash, Duff and Steven see her almost more than I do.

I glance around the living room of Tansy's Malibu beach house, seeing beach bunnies all around with perfectly tanned skin, bombshell hair and perfect smiles, then look at Steven and Slash, who seem to be having a pretty good time.

They both look like they're in heaven, girls on either side of them, obviously fans of their work on the Sunset Strip back in L.A.

Izzy took a girl up to the guest bedroom long ago, while Axl's just nursing a bottle of Jack, with a beautiful brunette chattering his ear off while he's pretending not to care about what Tansy's doing as she talks to one of her girl friends across the room.

I do a mental head count, and notice my 6'4 blonde is nowhere to be seen.

Maybe he found a girl or two of his own and followed in Izzy's footsteps, taking over a spare room?

I brush it off, deciding it's none of my business and step to the kitchen to grab a Pepsi out of the fridge. 

When I pass by the doors that lead to the balcony over looking the ocean, though, I see the outline of someone sitting in the lounge chair. 

Recognizing the slender frame, I grab my soda and head outside, Duff looking over his shoulder to see who I am, before smiling at me innocently, bottle of Vodka by his foot and pack of Marlboros on one knee as a sketch pad and pen are being supported by his other.

"Hi." I say as he scoots over to make room for me. "Mr. Social Butterfly." I add, sarcastically.

"Hey." He replies, moving his Vodka over so I won't knock it down with my foot.

"I figured you be eating that up." I motion to the door, referring to the gorgeous girls inside and he chuckles a little.

"I don't know, I haven't really been feeling chicks lately." He tells me and I furrow my brows a little.

"Well, I'm sure she has some boy friends, too, if you're feeling something different." I inform him, knowing what he meant, but he laughs and shakes his head.

"Not like that, Viv." He tells me and I pull my red hair behind my shoulders to get it out of my face, before taking a sip of my drink. "I've been, uh, working on something new, kinda. The lyrics have been going off left and right in my head, I just thought I'd better get somewhere quiet and write them down before I lose them." He explains, holding up his notepad.

"Oh, I'm sorry." I feel like I've intruded, or messed up his groove, about to leave him alone to finish but he puts his hand on my knee to stop me from standing up.

"No, no, it's fine." He insists, taking his hand off of me, not thinking anything of it, despite me feeling warmth radiate from where he touched me.

I ignore it.

"I've already gotten everything I had in mind, so far." He explains. "Just a verse and chorus."

"What's the name of it?" I ask, and he scratches the back of his neck.

"I don't know if I need to tell you. I'm superstitious about this stuff, Viv." He tells me, even though he's completely full of shit.

He just wants to aggravate me.

"It's just the title, Duff. You let me hear you say 'turn around, bitch, I gotta use for you' and this can't be worse than that." I point out and he chuckles, licking his lips before looking at me.

His hand covers the lyrics, exposing the title line of the page.

"Paradise City" is scribbled in his writing and I smile when he moves his hand and let's me read  the chorus, and verse that he's gotten so far, a giant smile pulling at my lips.

"Who the hell inspired this?" I ask him, raising my brows.

"Nobody particular." He shrugs. "You like it?"

"I already love it." I tell him.

Not to compare two completely different bands who earned their names all on their own, but there are a few song parallels between Guns N' Rose's Appetite for Destruction, and Mötley Crüe's Girls, Girls, Girls albums.

Guns' Welcome to the Jungle was like Mötley's Wild Side. Paradise City was like Girls, Girls, Girls. Mr. Brownstone was like Dancing on Glass. But my favorite parallel has to be Sweet Child O Mine and You're All I Need.

I remember Nikki had given me a tape of You're All I Need after we got into a massive argument because he thought I was spending too much time with Duff. But he had practically accused me of having feelings for Duff, and even acting on them (which was pretty hypocritical being that he'd been screwing Vanity since 1986 at that point.)

A few weeks later, Nikki convinced me to come down to the studio so he could personally give me a copy of a song he had written me, and me--being excited--decided I wanted the guys to hear it, too.

I went to the Franklin Plaza where Steven, Duff, Slash, Izzy and Axl were hanging out, discussing a meeting they'd had with their label.

When I told them Nikki wrote a love song about me (thinking it was his way of trying to patch up our marriage and say to the world "I love this woman") the guys had to hear it, not believing me.

The ballad started beautifully, tears coming to my eyes, but my warmed heart quickly began boiling in my chest by the time the second chorus ended.

"I don't think this is a love song." Izzy stated, while shaking his head a little.

"Yeah, uh...he's talking about killing you." Axl had told me, everyone seemed slightly disturbed.

"Your girlfriends get Sweet Child O Mine and what does the dedicated wife that has done nothing but love this sick bastard get?! A song dedicated to his deep desire to murder me!"

"Dude, hasn't he actually tried to kill you before?" Steven asked.

Which made the song even more ironic, along with the last line of the chorus, "and I loved you but you didn't love me" which in itself was slap in the fucking face.

I didn't hear the full song at that time because Duff had took it out of the player and stomped it under his cowboy boot.

That pretty much set the tone for the months to come.

"You're also incredibly biased." He replies in the same tone and I nudge him with my elbow.

"You don't know how many songs I have actually had to tear out of Nikki's hand and hide them from him because they were so bad I just could not allow them to be recorded." I tell him.

"Oh, please." He brushes me off.

"Have you heard 'Theater of Pain'?" I ask him with raised brows.

"Yeah."

"Home Sweet Home and Smokin' in the Boy's Room were the only really good ones. And Smokin' in the Boy's Room was a cover. The other songs were songs I didn't know were written, or I would have hid them from him, too." I state and he tries not to laugh, but fails, making himself snort, which kickstarts my laughter. 

Once we settle down, he clears his throat, and gets a kind of serious expression on his face.

"I really wish he wasn't on that shit, Viv." He tells me and I don't even have to ask who he's talking about. "I mean, I'm not judging him or whatever because Izzy and Slash are in on that stuff, too, but...I just hate to see he's on it, because it's kinda hard to manage it once you hit a certain point, ya know?" He asks and I nod a little. "I think he's a pretty cool guy...so it sucks to see him act like that."

"It's not that bad, right now." I tell him, completely in denial. "He's still Nikki, he just does stuff he's not suppose to. That's nothing new to me."

"I'm just a little worried, is all." He admits.

"There's no need to be." I reassure him. "He's got a handle on things."

Dear God did I eat those words a week later in Dallas, Texas.

It's like watching a fucking car accident. 

Except instead of a car, it's my husband, and instead of a car accident, it's him losing his ever loving mind, crouched on the hotel room desk, as he babbles on, making absolutely no sense as he shouts at his parents who aren't even present.

I just came back from the pool, got a shower, and came in to him doing this.

"Nikki!" I try to get him out of whatever drug-induced show he's on.

"I'm not me! I'm not Nikki! I'm someone else!" He insists, hands yanking at his hair, his eyes completely taken over by an entirely different beast. 

I panic, immediately calling Fred.

"The fuck is wrong?!" He asks when I open the door, hearing Nikki's screaming and carrying on and I try to keep the absolute fear that's locking up my system from showing.

"I-I don't know. I got in from the pool and he was kinda jittery but I thought he'd done some blow, but then he started screaming when I was in the shower and now he's--"

Fred gets tired of hearing Nikki's meaningless shrieks at people who aren't in the room with us, and snatches him off the desk.

Nikki hits the floor, and a switch is flipped, sending him into strong convulsions, opting thick, white foam to pour from his mouth.

"Fuck, Sixx!" Fred lets out, turning him on his side. "Get me a roll of toilet-paper." He barks at me and I do as I'm told, saying a very colorful, silent prayer in my head. 

He tries to get Nikki to bite down on it to keep him from biting his tongue, but Nikki can't do it. screaming instead.

When I think I can't take the confused, scared, out-of-character shrill, it's like God himself knocks Nikki out, leaving Fred and I in complete silence, riddled with what just happened.

Fred checks his pulse and sighs in relief, looking at me.

"Viv, are you alright?" He asks me, taking deep breaths.

"Y-yeah." I say, nodding, even though I know it's written all over my face that I can't be further from "alright."

"Vivian--"

"I just need a second." I tell him, standing up to go to the bathroom, disguising oncoming tears in a strong, steady voice that's physically uncomfortable to push past the lump in my throat.

I lock myself inside the bathroom and turn the water back on, gripping the counter before I find myself in the floor, quiet sobs rocking through me.

I just want my Nikki back...not this tainted demon nesting himself in Nikki's skin, festering his bullshit in Nikki's mind.

By the time I'm worn down from crying, and tired from lying on the bathroom floor, I pull myself up and open the bathroom door, stepping into the room.

I guess Fred put Nikki in the bed before he left, because Nikki's still passed out, just tucked in the covers. 

I get pajamas on, scared to even touch him because I don't want him to start seizing again.

Cautiously getting closer to him, nestling my forehead against his arm, I thank God for the feeling of his pulse under my finger tips in the crook of his arm, and find myself passing out with utter exhaustion.

The next morning, Nikki's really quiet.

I'm not sure if he remembers what happened last night, but I'm not asking him. 

After finding a needle and evidence of an 8-ball of coke, he can lick my twat if he thinks I'm talking to him anytime soon. 

The video shoot for Home Sweet Home is happening today, and a limo picks Nikki and I up at the hotel, driving us to the venue, neither of us acknowledging the other. 

Once we get there, someone's dressing Nikki like a damn toddler, because he's too fucked from last night to dress himself in his done up stage costume.

Nikki was so, so, so, obviously, utterly fucked up when they filmed the music video for Home Sweet Home. 

The entire time, he was chugging Jack to try to calm himself down from a high he later described felt like, "being on acid and speed at the same time" and with the way he was acting like he couldn't see a damn thing, I believe it. 

He kept sunglasses on a majority of the time so people couldn't see how his eye were practically doing cartwheels. 

"Viv, we're about to start, where's Nikki?" His bass tech asks me and I glance around, furrowing my brows a little.

"I haven't seen in him about an hour. He went over there by the stage...at least I think he did." I tell him, stepping over to the last place I saw him. "He was here and..." I trail off, hearing Nikki having a full blown conversation, his voice coming from underneath the stage.

The two of us sit and listen for a moment, realizing Nikki's just talking, taking long pauses, then answering a question that was never asked by anybody, not even himself.

"Who is he talking to?" His tech asks me under his breath so Nikki won't hear.

I roll my jaw, getting fed up.

"Probably the fucking demon he sees and befriends every time he gets high." I state, fully believing that at this point, there is indeed a demon following him around, breathing down his neck, stripping him of his control and cheering him on with each grain of coke, bottle of Jack, cc of heroin and prescription-grade pill.

"Nikki," His tech starts. "Who're you talking to?"

"I'm talking. Leave me alone." Nikki argues.

"Nikki." I state, looking at him. 

It's the first time he's heard my voice all day.

"There's nobody there, baby. C'mon." I motion my hand for him to get out from under the stage.

"Leave me alone!" He snaps at me, nearly hissing.

"Dude, calm down, you're freaking out." His tech tells him. 

"Nikki, get your ass out from under there or so help me God, I will come in and drag you out by your dick." I promise him. 

He puffs up like a pissed off rooster and stomps out, passing by us, grumbling under his breath.

Do you wanna know what was really fucked up about that time? Vince couldn't have a beer without someone losing their mind. He was supposed to be sober. Nikki would bust Vince's balls if he even saw him looking at a bottle...but then Nikki would load anything and everything into his body, simultaneously.

Vince quickly became the odd man out, and had been ever since that night with Razzle. There was this vibe, this tension, that Vince was only kept in the band at that time, because they were getting hotter and hotter, and each member was the ticket to reach their full potential as a band. Each member was important.

Without Tommy, there was no band. Without Mick, there was no band. Without Nikki, there was no band.

And without Vince, there was no band...that was the one that really didn't sit too well with Sikki.

[dapper-ships-herself]

@dokiqx @raudrfox2

The answer changes a bit depending on the s/i, so I'm gonna start with more general and like personal and then go into my s/is.

Dazai and I both, let's say wrestle with certain feelings about life and the world around us. When it feels like you're adrift and very little matters, it helps a great deal to have someone to ground you, and that's Dazai and I for each other. When the world is cruel, we can reach out our hands and feel the warmth, and through that feel safe and real. Neither of us are used to letting ourselves be fully vulnerable to the people around us, we're always masking something, maybe not for entirely the same reasons, but we are. Our relationship is when we both let those walls fall bit by bit, letting go of fear and trepidation. He never even thought he could feel real love before, both of us had thought we weren't worthy of it.

And Dazai is a genius, he's amazing and confident in his abilities, he can see straight through pretty much anyone, so I think why would he even want me, I'm so boring and predictable, I'm not a fan of taking risks and putting myself out there. But Dazai sees all my good qualities, he appreciates my strong empathy and my compassion, he sees how even though I struggle with my own worth I put so much worth into the lives around me, and I have a fun way of thinking about a lot of things, I'm creative bright even when I think I'm not. I become like a fresh, sunny spring day for his soul. And Dazai, his hands are so stained and his mind so jaded, even as he works to redeem himself and be on the side that saves people, he thinks there's too much darkness to ever truly be washed away. But I know that even though he's done a lot of bad, what matters most is what he's doing now; he's trying so hard to be good, to move away from the darkness that only acted as a negative feedback loop for him, that was never good for a boy with a mind like his. He is actively trying to be a good man, and I remind him of that. Neither of us are ever going to be perfect, but that's fine when we're together through our flaws. And through it all, we help each other see the beautiful things to live for.

Okay, now let's go into some specifics for the s/is.

ADA! Gillian has been through some pretty deep trauma with the loss of her little sister when they were kids, and at the time she thought she'd never ever recover from that and stay in the emotionless darkness forever, but with the help of Fukuzawa and Ranpo and the other agency members, she was able to heal. Despite the guilt and trauma that still sticks to her, how easy it would be to write the world off as simply cruel and uncaring, that's not her style. She loves the world, she loves the people in it, she knows that there's darkness but that only means that the rest of them should try their hardest to spread as much love and compassion as they can to balance that out. To Dazai, her unwavering light is strange but so calming. She's so strong in her determination to protect her family and everyone and everything that needs saving, it really touches something in him. She teaches him that it's okay, that they deserve to laugh and love and live, and she helps show him how to actively view the world for it's good parts. Even if someday it's hard, some days she's sad and can't forget the past, some days she tries very hard to push away the anger that festers in her at the unfairness that abounds, she still tries and now they can stand by each other's sides and try together. And he also knows what it's like to suffer and lose the one person who's most important, and he helps her confront the guilt that still clings to her, in fact that's something mutual. And she also, even though she accepts and appreciates her ability for how it lets her help people, it's also an ability that takes away a person's free will and can cause a lot of destruction, and she is afraid of the inherent evilness of it, and though Dazai respects how she's made the concious choice to only use it to help people, he sees her fear and helps her accept it.

Mafia! Gillian and Dazai probably have the most complicated relationship of all. Neither really wanted friends or saw the use of them, but they became each other's first real friend after he joins the mafia. They connect and resonate in a much stronger and more natural way than either were really prepared for; and then they were part of the quartet with Ango and Oda too, and she loved them all. She could be quoted as saying the three of them were probably the only things keeping her sane in the Port Mafia. And then she went away on a mission for a few weeks, no contact with her friends, and suddenly that little slice of joy she had was shattered, Oda was killed, Ango had been a double agent the whole time, and Dazai had abandoned her without so much as a good bye, much less and explanation. It sent her to a dark place for a while. She wanted to hate Dazai, and she certainly felt bitter, but she couldn't bring herself to hate him; how could she, really. She disliked being in the Port Mafia, but not only does she feel she'd have no where else to go, that if she left she'd be leaving her father, Ougai, aka the only person who's ever seen to genuinely want her around and stay that way, but her ability is literally to control darkness and too much light literally causes her pain and discomfort, it's clear to her that she was born to forever stay in the world of darkness and never be able to stand in the light. When she and Dazai eventually meet again four years after he left the mafia, there's a lot of complicated feelings too work through. She's bitter and angry and can't understand why he'd leave her like that if their friendship really meant anything; Dazai thought it was the right move at the time, he justified it to himself by reasoning that he knew she felt chained to the mafia and he had to leave quickly and cleanly in order to successfully rid himself of his dark past, he couldn't risk waiting for her to come back from her mission and having to convince her. But, really, he was afraid. After all, he's convinced that everything he desires will slip through his fingers the moment he obtains it. If he tried to hold on to the happiness she brought him and selfishly took her with him, he'd only bring her ruin some other way, and he wasn't deserving of her. He genuinely does regret it though, and it's not easy for him to admit that he was wrong but he knows that this is one instance where he was so terribly wrong. They have to work through these feelings in order to get anywhere, and she also has to realize that she does have the capability to step into the light, which she does partially with Dazai's help. There's a lot of fighting through the bullshit to finally be together.

Jekyll! Gillian takes the stuff mentioned earlier about always masking some part of ourselves to the extreme. Her ability, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, literally manifests her jaded view of the world into a physical creature of chaos, aka Hyde. And she rejects Hyde hardcore, that's why she's so unstable, destructive, and difficult to control, as well as hates her in return. She puts on the sugariest of sweet faces to try and mask this darkness, but Dazai is able to see it. He recognizes her mask easily, because he's basically doing the exact same thing. Eventually, after a lot of plot haha, they're able to help each other let go of their facades a bit and better accept themselves for who they are. They find this kinship in each other that honestly makes it easier for them to let go of their guards at least a little bit. They both hold a lot of jaded darkness with themselves, and they've both done some pretty terrible things and dirtied their hands, him in the mafia and her in the Order of the Clocktower, and they were both able to break away from that to try and become better people, and that's really nice for them to be able to relate to each other.

Circus! Gillian is, true to the name of her troupe the Circus of the Disillusioned, disillusioned about much of the world. It's dirty and cruel and not on your side. But, the circus always promoted family, the whole reason Voltaire formed the troupe was to attempt to not lay there and accept their wretched fate, that they as humans should try and create at least small pockets of a world more right and colorful. And this ideal stays with her. So yeah, they're both not huge fans of the world, but she has a more innate desire to change that, and she believes it's the duty of humans to fight through and not back away from the world through means like suicide (does that make sense? Trying to word it properly). So she actually is pretty, hm, disgusted is too strong of a word to use, she clashes a lot with Dazai's suicidal jokes. And she's too tsundere and jaded herself to outright be all flowery ~I will help you~, but that sort of discussion is a theme between them early on. Their abilities are foils for each other as well, Dazai is an ability nullifier, she's an ability amplifier, and that sort of reflects their views too.

Guild! Gillian at first seems to have the most innocent view of the world, after all she's rich and spoiled by her father, Francis. And she acts rather carefree too, like someone who's always been secure and never known difficulty. But she has known pain, and there's more than a naive rich girl beneath the surface. She's cunning and knows how to read people, she's been trained in the art of business since she was a child and had it drilled into her that you must never roll over for the world. She's also been taught that she's the daughter of the great Fitzgerald, which means she's meant for greatness too, and she hides it from her father but that's left her with a desperation to prove herself and live up to a great big shadow. But she's genuinely kind too, she loves the world for it's flaws and wants to support the people in it. So yeah, they're ways of thinking clash a bit, but at the same time they work perfectly in other aspects. At first, it's more like he's interested in her for the sort of contradictions she poses, but he starts to genuinely respect her and admire how she chooses to see kindness and work for it, how she takes things in to her own hands to make the world she sees in her mind real. And she respects him for his intellect and eventually for his resolve once she learns of his past. And respect is pretty much the bud that will bloom into love.

There's a lot of fighting to find the light in the dark and acceptance of ourselves.

I hope this was all coherent and not to rambly ha.

[verobatto]

Destiel Chronicles

(Vol. XXV)

It was a love story from the very beginning.

There was no time to say 'I'm sorry'

(7x01/7x02/7x03/7x05)

Hello my dears!! This is a new meta from my Destiel Chronicles. We will start with season 7, is gonna be a short road, I calculated a total number of six metas, so.

I want to say thank you to my friend @agusvedder , she made the gifs for this era and discussed some matters.

Okay! Let's start!

You're Not my Cas

After Cas became Godstiel, Dean noticed the big change. He wasn't Cas anymore, even his voice was different, and he'd said Dean wasn't his family.

In episode 7x01 Meet the New Boss (written by Sera Gamble) he have Dean trying to avoid Castiel's topic by trying to fix Baby (a symbolic representation of Dean's heart). Baby is broken, like Dean (bc of CAS) and he's trying to endure it. And he uses this as a distraction too. That's why when Bobby came to see him, he asked him...

BOBBY: So, you fixin' her or primal screamin'?

This is a great point of view here, if Baby is Dean's heart and he's trying to fix it. He's yelling at it. To get better quickly. To forget about Cas and his betrayal. To recognize Castiel isn't his Cas anymore. And now he's a monster and he has to stop him.

Then they start to talk about Cas, and this is the interesting part...

BOBBY: I don't even know what books to hit for this, Dean.

DEAN: Well, figure it out! I'm sorry. This ain't in no book. If you stick your neck out, Cas steps on it. So you know what I'm gonna do?

BOBBY: What?

DEAN: Imma fix this car. Because that's what I can do. I can work on her 'til she's mint. And when Sam wakes up, no matter what shape he's in, we'll glue him back together too. We owe him that.

Again, the car, his heart. He's gonna fix it, because he needs that fixed and patched, and renewed because he knows what he has to do about Cas. So he needs not to feel a thing about him.

He knows how to do that. How to fix things that hurts his heart... He pushed those things down, and deep... But he won't be able this time ( as he will say it in 7x17), because is Cas.

Then, Sam wakes up and...

Again to the car. Because Sammy put his finger in that wound... And Dean is still trying to fix it...

And Because you're not him, I'll try to kill you

Ok, now... The News...

And Dean shutting down the TV because, he knows Cas is young and sexy, he knows more than anyone, because he feels sexually attracted to him, but that, isn't Cas, so... Stop saying things I know about my Cas, I know he's hot, but this one, isn't my Cas.

He shuts the TV, angry and hurted, and he goes to fix his Baby/Heart again.

But while he's fixing Baby, he's hearing the new on the radio, to follow Castiel's steps... Godstiel is targeting motivational speakers.

SAM: Motivational speakers?

DEAN: Yeah, I'm not sure new Cas gets irony any better than old Cas. Of course, old Cas wouldn't smite Madison Square Garden just to prove a point. He is off the deep end of the deep end. And there's no slowing down.

Dean was able now to separate OLD CAS (his Cas) and NEW CAS (the monster they have to kill). His brain is doing this to help him to take the hard decision.

But Sam is the one here that can't lose his faith on Cas, he tries twice to convince his brother to speak again with Godstiel, and Dean explodes, because he was trying so hard to take this decision, and he doesn't need hopes or faith in Cas again.

SAM: Okay.

DEAN: Hand me that socket wrench.

The car again. His heart.

Dean is spilling the very hurtful thoughts he was ruminating the whole time while fixing his car/heart, yeah, that's the thing that huts him so much, Cas isn't coming back. This is not Cas. He betrayed us.

And then, when he vomited all that, he came back to fix his heart, trying hard to do it. The symbolism is exquisite and sad at the same time.

Then, Dean devised a plan to kill Godstiel by slaving Death. They asked Crowley's help, and they summoned Death.

And Godstiel enters in action again. And when se sees what Dean was doing... He said this...

CASTIEL: I didn't want to kill you, but now...

DEAN: You can't kill us.

CASTIEL: You've erased any nostalgia I had for you, Dean.

So... Godstiel had some nostalgia about Dean, because when he was CAS, they shared something profound. Is like someone remembering his ex.

But he gets more mad at Dean when the hunter orders Death to kill him, look at Godstiel's face. And look at Dean face. He's able to do that bc he had in his head a voice repeating him He's Not My Cas.

He can't believe Dean wants to kill him.

He vanished, and Dean's hopes to defeat him too. Even with Death giving them another plan... Dean is devastated.

Sam still believes in Cas

Then Dean is drinking, because he lost any hopes, but Sam, He's trying hard. He still believes in Cas, he has hopes, so he prays to him...

SAM: Hey, Castiel. Um... Maybe this is pointless. Look... I don't know if any part of you even cares, but, um, I still think you're one of us, deep down. I mean, way, way, way off the reservation, but... Look, we still have till dawn to stop this. Let us help. Please.

Sam believed Cas is still there, his part of the Team Free Will. And he had right there.

Castiel came back to his senses when he gets possesed by the Leviathans he carried inside of him. He lost control and kills innocent people. That's what makes Cas coming back. His vessel is very damaged, but he listened Sammy's prayers... And he went to him.

Dean is there too, look at his worried face, looking at Cas in that shape, and the camera focused on him immediately after showing us Cas. Is because his reaction is more important than Sammy's. But Cas was answering Sammy's prayers, so he named just Sam. Because Sam still believes in him. And Castiel asks for help.

There was not time

When they were about to re open the doorway to Purgatory, Castiel is ashamed and he wants to ask for forgiveness, but there's not time.

CASTIEL: If there was time, if I was strong enough, I'd -- I'd fix him now. I just wanted to make amends before I die.

DEAN: Okay.

CASTIEL: Is it working?

DEAN: Does it make you feel better?

CASTIEL: No. You?

DEAN: Not a bit.

A huge thing like this doesn't fix in seconds, or minutes. It requires time to talk. But they didn't have that. Cas was trying to use the few seconds he knew he had to give a good end to that. He knew he was about to die. So he tried hard, but human's feelings are not that easy to fix. Even Cas was experimenting those human's feelings too.

When they opened the gate, and Cas was about to expell the would into the Purgatory, he gave what they thought was one last look at Dean... And he said it...

With such sorrowful face, Dean echoing the sadness in his face too. A painful ending? Not... There will be more ...

Castiel's Death

Cas fell to the ground, and Dean is terrified.

DEAN: Cas?

BOBBY: He's cold.

DEAN: Is he breathing?

BOBBY: No.

Okay, this is Dean denying Castiel is dead. Bobby said HE'S COLD, and Dean was like is he breathing? And when Bobby said he didn't, Dean went with that excuse... And Bobby had to be more specific. Cas is gone.

And Dean breaks in anger again... But not for so long... Because CAS wakes up.

DEAN: Damn it. Cas, you child. Why didn't you listen to me? Cas?! Hey! Hey! Okay. All right.

The reproaches again

CASTIEL: That was unpleasant.

And again, for a few seconds before the Leviathans take control over Castiel's vessel, he tries to enmend things with Dean. Is the only thing he had in his head an heart.

CASTIEL: I'm ashamed. I really overreached.

DEAN: You think?

CASTIEL: I'm gonna find some way to redeem myself to you.

(And he will by the end of this season 😏)

DEAN: All right, well, one thing at a time. Come on. Let's get you out of here. Come on.

Dean is not saying he won't forgive him. He just need him to be safe. He died and now he's back. He knows they can fix things... But is sad... Because the Leviathans made his entrance right in that moment.

In episode 7x02 Hello Cruel world, Castiel dies.

We had Cas dying in that river... And the scene with Dean taking his trenchcoat. He lost Cas again. This time for real.

He breaks...

And Bobby tries to comfort him, as he will do through the whole season...

DEAN: Okay. So he’s gone.

The sadness in Dean's face is huge.

BOBBY: Well, he was friends with us, wasn’t he? Can’t get much dumber than that.

After this, Sam and Bobby are worried about Dean, and Bobby tries to talk with him, but Dean avoids the topic faking he's ok, as always.

DEAN: (...) I’m not Sam, okay? I keep my marbles in a lead friggin' box. I’m fine. Really.

BOBBY Of course. Yeah. You just lost one of the best friends you ever had, your brother’s in the bell jar, and Purgatory’s most wanted are surfing the sewer lines, but yeah, yeah, I get it. You’re – you're fine.

Then Sam and Bobby sent Dean to a hunt alone, because they knew he needed some distraction. They knew Dean was grieving, in his weird way to grieve.

We will see Dean drinking a lot of alcohol in the nexts episodes as a scape from his thoughts. This Will be very recurrent in this season.

Mirroring Destiel

I'm gonna talk in this last section about two Destiel mirrors in the following episodes to Castiel death.

One was settled in episode 7x03 The Girl Next Door.

If you recall this episode was Sammy's first love when he was a teenager and he was hunting.

But first of all I want to mention some interesting scene, Dean had a fracture after fighting with one of the strongest Leviathans (Edgard) in Bobby's place. His house was burnt and they thought Bobby was dead (foreshadow of it ofc), but when they were in Rufus's cabin, Dean was watching a Latin novel, and Bobby enters and this was the peculiar dialogue...

DEAN Dude... Ricardo.

BOBBY What happened?

DEAN Suicidio.

BOBBY Adiós, ese.

DEAN looks very moved at what has happened on the screen.

Ok, why would I put this here? There was a woman embracing his dead lover in her arms, crying bc he had committed suicide. And Dean was moved about that.

Lovers separation by death of one of them... Suicide specifically, like Leviathan!Cas killing himself in the river... Do you got the picture here?

And btw Sam goes to the groceries shop, Dean asked pie but. .

DEAN Where's the pie?

SAM I got cake. It's close enough, right?

Okay... Dean ate the cake... If we know the cake represents Dean's queerness and hanger for CAS... 😏

Okay, back to Sam again...

He was hunting a Kitsune, but he fell in love with the Kitsune's daughter.

When her mother discover that she tried to kill little Sammy, but the girl stabbed her in the heart. (Hello Destiel recalling).

She rebelled against her mother and her lore for Sam. (Sounds familiar?)

When Dean discovers Sam didn't finish his job again he decides to kill her.

Because he knows how hard is try to kill the person you're in love with, even when that person becomes a monster... He knows.

So he did it instead Sammy. And he lies to him. That will be one of the topics for the whole Wincest subtext (very blantant this season).

Ok... Jumping now to episode 7x05 Shut up Dr. Phil ...

Remember this one, two witches in love, they were a couple for centuries... They were fighting because Maggie Stark (the witch) thought Don Stark (his husband) was cheating on her (misscomunication) and Sam and Dean get in the middle and they decided to interview. And read what Dean said... People... He's talking about his experience with Castiel here...

DEAN:Look – obviously, you two are capable of wiping each other out, right? But you haven't, huh? Which means that you two – you still value whatever it is you got. A-and you want keep that dance going. Maybe it's – maybe it's punishment. Maybe it's – it's sick, messed-up, erotic, kinky, clamps and feathers kind of love.

What-the-hell!!???? I said to myself... Do I need to add something here? He said fighting is sick, messed up erotic/kinky/feathers and love in the same sentence!

Ok Dean... Tell us more... 🤣🤣🤣

This line was juicy...

To Conclude:

Castiel's death was a huge traumatic experience that leads him to depression and alcoholism, but he pushed that down and avoided it as always.

There was two Destiel mirrors in the two following episodes after Castiel's death reflecting their story and Dean's inner truly and repressed feelings for him.

I hope you enjoy this first meta from season 7! C-u in the next Chronicles!

Tagging @weirddorkylittlediana @whyjm @legendary-destiel @a-bit-of-influence @thatwitchydestielfan @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @lykanyouko @evvvissticante @savannadarkbaby @angelneedshunter @trickster-archangel @dea-stiel @poorreputation @bre95611 @thewolfathedoor @charlottemanchmal @neii3n @deathswaywardson @followyourenergy @dean-is-bi-till-i-die @hekatelilith-blog @avidbkwrm @anarchiana @mishka-the-angel-of-saturday @dickpuncher365 @vampyrosa @foxyroxe-art @authorsararayne @anonymoustitans @mybonsai1976 @love-neve-dies @wildligia @dustythewind @wayward-winchester67 @angelwithashotgunandtrenchcoat @trashblackrainbow @deeutdutdutdoh @destiel-is--endgame @destiel-shipper-11 @larrem88 @charmedbycastiel @ran-savant @little-crazy-misha-minion @samoosetheshipper

@shadows-and-padlocked-hearts @mishtho @dancingtuesdaymorning @nerditoutwithbooks @mikennacac73

If you want to be tagged in this metas just let me know!

Buenos Aires August 21st 2019 8:48 PM

[rixxy8173571m3w1p3]

The Little Big Things (3/4)

So like we had done not too long ago, me, @hoodoo12 @porkchop-ao3 @rickstexaschick are doing the same prompt cause we all loved the idea. And I didn't mention it before, but this story references Labyrinth, and it follows the events of this fic As The World Falls Down.

Many thanks to @xerxezra @hoodoo12 @porkchop-ao3 for some writing advice that helped me get through this chapter. I love you all.

This is part 3. If you haven't read part one or part two then read it here. (Part 1, Part 2)

_______________________

Chapter 3: Saudade

Once upon a time, not so long ago, there was a scientist, whom after trying all that he could to wake up his unconscious girlfriend had began to wonder if the only thing he hadn't tried would work; for while she appeared to be in a coma, she was merely in a deep sleep like sleeping beauty, but prettier.

“I'm sorry Rick.” you interrupted by poking his cheek. “I appreciate your lovely words, but I can't say that I'm beautiful while snoring, so you better stop that. No embellishing.”

Giving your hand a squeeze, he said softly. “But y-you are. I even have a-a picture on my phone somewhere.”

“If it's of me drooling, then it's going to magically disappear. You always like the bad pics.”

“Hohoho, there a-aren't any bad photos. I like th-them all.”

Which he meant, even if you felt contrary to the statement. “Whatever you say Rick. So, before I interrupted, you were going to explain why you used the dream inceptors. Right?”

“Mhm,” he nodded. “that's right. You see, physically there was nothing the - the matter with you, but y-you did have a bit of a fever. And monitoring your vitals, I had come to realize you already p-passed the first hour or so of sleep, during which brain waves slow down. This period of - of slow wave sleep is accompanied by relaxation of the muscles and the eyes. Then, over the next half hour or so, your br-brain activity altered drastically, and you entered the REM stage. During that stage, there is atonia or p-paralysis of the body’s muscles. Only the muscles th-that allow breathing and control eye movements remain active. I thought, that well - since nothing else worked it couldn't hurt t-t-to try using the dream inceptors.”

If your memory served correctly, you had woken up in your own bed. Which meant, he carried you, portaled into your home, and set up the monitoring equipment on your computer desk. “So, you brought me back to my home, laid me down on my bed, and plugged those earbud thingys in my ears.”

You knew what they were called, but it was always worth listening to him laugh, and feeling the happy noise reverberate through his body; this was your reward. “Those th-thingys allowed me t-to enter into your dreams. I ugh - I used t-t-to wonder what it would be like, and if y-you would welcome me in your dreams.”

“I welcome you into my home. Isn't it about the same thing?”

“N-n-not exactly. Dreams are more private. They can r-reveal or disguise our innermost thoughts and inclinations. Neither of us have th-the same dream, and our subconscious is free t-t-to play its short clips and feature length imagery.

It's - it's not like anyone c-could enters another person's dream, but I have just like other Ricks have in their own respective realities. I'm s-sorry that I did, especially w-without your permission.”

“You did what you had to, and I trust you. You never have to doubt that.”

The lilting tune around you softened to the gentle sounds similar to that of a kalimba or music box; possibly both. Kissing your temple, he admitted quietly, in a tone you hardly recognized. “Dreams they can - can be intimate as well. Did y-y-you know that?”

“No,” you blushed, his anxious heart beat making you both nervous and giddy. “but I think I'm starting to get an idea. Why,” you teased. “do you dream of me?”

Covering his face, he groaned in embarrassment. “Gosh, I-I-I do, but not in the way that y-you'd think.”

“In what way then?”

Sneaking a peek at you, he said sheepishly. “It's - I dream about how y-you help me with experiments. Sometimes I dream a-about what we normally do, and how my life is w-with you. I um - I have even dreamed that w-we switched places, and that I'm just a regular guy and you - you are this demi-goddess of science, pulling me away from my average life t-to that of adventures.”

“Demi-goddess?” you giggled, watching as his blush went from a dusty pink to a dangerous shade of red. “That's so flattering, but I'm not like that. I'm not perfect.”

“Y-you are to me.”

Poking his cheek again, you smiled. “And you are to me.”

And for a while he kept quiet, absentmindedly playing with your hair. He did that thing with his eyebrow, when he was thinking too hard for his own good; lost in his thoughts, overthinking his actions, afraid of his words which came out of his mouth. When he found the courage to speak again, his voice was colored with the usual sincerity. “I um, b-because you're sweet, I wondered if your dreams - if they would be just as sweet. M-mi corazón,” he softened, “what I'm trying t-to say is I wanted to know if - if maybe you……oh n-never mind.”

“Rick, what is it? If it's important, then you can tell me.”

Shaking his head, he relinquished his previous thought, this time giving your hand a kiss and continued with his original explanation. “At first, I um - I found myself amidst a-a parched land, where the wind whispered doubts, and the sky flashed visions of the past. I knew th-this wasn't the central point of activity, so I started w-walking.”

__________

Miles upon miles there was nothing, but a desert; not even cacti or wildflowers. It made him worry a bit, but he held onto the hope that he would soon enter the active part of the dream; wherever that might be. Later, when he came upon the people in the nearest village, he found that they were in need of water and had been digging deeper and deeper in search of it, but all their wells were dry. As they had explained, by now the melted ice from the mountain should have fed their rivers and streams, but as yet, it hadn't.

Because his heart compelled him to assist them, he borrowed the necessary supplies to go on a quest, up the mountain, where there was a castle carved out of ice and stone. And there he found a comely young man seated upon a throne of clear quartz; he was the king of the mountain, who had been withholding the water, for the village leader had refused to relinquish his fair daughter, on the grounds that the king was immortal. After an in-depth discussion, the two came to an agreement, with the king abdicating the throne and returning to the land of mortals in hopes of wooing his lady love. Now, a deal was a deal, and the moment the scientist placed the crown upon his head, he gained the power beyond his current understanding, and was able to extend his sight; allowing him to see what occurred across the land he reigned over and beyond. And it happened, that when his eyes found his beloved, he was shocked to find she was but a babe.

You sat up, pulling yourself out of his grasp.

“Hold up! You mean to say that you had to wait for me to grow up?”

“Again?” he frowned a little. “Y-y-yes, I did.”

Your heart sank at his reply. “What do you mean again? Oh God, don't tell me this happened before.”

Scratching the back of his neck, he sighed. “N-n-not exactly the same way, but that's a-a story for another time.”

“Alright.”

This was common with him. If he wasn't ready to talk about something, then he'd promise to tell you later; whenever that would be. Oh, but a different thought occurred to you. What if he had waited for you to grow up in your reality? Why, that would have been absurd, unless he had met you before, but when? At the moment, you were too tired to go through the whole list of theories. He continued. “In your dream, I had t-to, because time travels differently in - in dreams, and if I-I hadn't had the powers which were granted me, I would have…y-you know.”

“Goodness, you could….. you would have died… before we ever met again. Right? Oh Rick, I know you explained how the dream inceptors worked before, but I sometimes can't wrap my head around it.”

He waited over twenty years in a dream. Who does that? Not anyone you had ever known, but Zeta-7 wasn't just anyone. It spoke volumes about his affection for you, and further about his determination. Looking down at his lanky form, you felt tears pricking at the back of your eyes. He didn't look a day older, but that was the magic of dreams wasn't it? There was always a way. “Thank goodness you're still here. I don't know how I'd live with myself if you had died because of me.”

Giving your hand a light squeeze, you couldn't hold back your tears anymore. You really were were a horrible person. If he wasn't so kind hearted surely he would hate. Your idiocy time and time again had brought him hardship and pain. Why did he love you if your were like this?

You heard the rustling of clothes, and felt his warmth all around you. Pulling you close, he squeezed you tight, telling you it was going to be alright. And all you could do was drown in his unconditional love which is as vast and limitless as the furthest reaches of space. You two remained like this until your tears dried up, and all that was left was comfort. When you found your voice, as sniffly and girlish it was, you wondered. “What did you do with your time? Over all those years?”

With a voice colored with relief, he answered. “All th-that I could.”

___________

The previous king had left the land in disarray, so he did all he could in his power to make things right. Immediately, he made sure the water flowed at a steady pace, and the once dying land in due time was fertile again due to his guidance. And when the people were no longer hungry, and the village prospered, many came to show their devotion and gratitude to the new king. They wondered how they could repay him, but the king didn't need anything. However, when they saw that he needed assistance in planting, and covering the land with flowers, they got to work immediately.

Hybrid blue roses, forget-me-nots, morning glories, night-sky petunias, and any other flower he could conjure would be planted. Only one side was dedicated for those blue flowers; the side with the best view. And the rest of the land that wasn't used for farming was covered with giant sunflowers; all of them for his beloved. Time, it wanted to make him a dreamer, and even if logic told him otherwise, it took a little longer than usual to accept it. Time would pass, and it would all happen soon. He could wait.

“I remember the lovely flowers along the rolling hills.” you commented. “I saw them my whole life and longed for the places I couldn't go. They couldn't be found where I lived because of the climate, but you wanted me to remember, didn't you?”

“I-I did. You see, the last time you thought of blue it was connected with something toxic. Therefore, you a-a-associated the color with something bad, and I hoped you - you would remember your life w-w-with…..”

“With you?”

“With everything y-you cared for.”

He always gave himself too little credit. This man was worthy of so much, and you'd worship the ground he walked on if he'd let you. Tilting your head up, you pressed a kiss on his cheek.“Which is mostly you.”

“R-really?”

“Of course Ricky.”

Tucking a lock of hair behind your ear, he was about to say something, but his ioculus stretched themselves to kiss you before he had a chance to. Wherever they could touch, they kissed, and no matter how much he'd scold them, they were as eager as could be. You'd say they had a bit of a rebellious streak. Not wanting Zeta-7 to worry, you gave into their whim, kissing each bud of theirs on the head, to which made them bloom, and pull away. Honestly, they were adorable, but to Zeta-7, who was naturally reserved and cautious, they were disrespectful, and naughty.

“Gosh,” he blushed. “I'm s-s-so sorry. I didn't - I don't know why they do that.”

Again, you had your theories, believing that they acted upon the true inclinations of the heart, but you kept this to yourself. “It's okay,” you reassured him. “they're not bothering me.”

“They r-really do have a-a mind of their own.”

“So they do.” you giggled. “I um, what I was going to say was that I only remember bits and pieces of the before times. It's funny to call it that, as though I've lived separate lifetimes, but that's how I think of it.”

“Fascinating.”

“You think so? Well, maybe it's like chapters, or alternate dimensions, but that wouldn't explain it either. The before times was from the time I was born and ended when I met Jareth. After I met him, my memory of before got kind of hazy.”

“I-I see. Well, that's - that's perfectly natural. It's like any other dream, which most of - of us can't remember when we wake.”

Then, how come you kept on remembering?

___________________

Over and over, you encouraged him to go on. No detail was too small. Whether it was about the time the villagers tried to offer him a bride, or the creatures he made of ice and stone to be his companions in his castle. Though, there were other things you wanted to know.

“Where I lived it never rained, but it often rained on the mountain. Was it natural, or was it because you cried?”

“Jeez, where d-do I begin? If I-I tried to lessen the importance of a memory, then it - it became somewhat manageable. I thought I would have gotten used to it, because I've spent many years of - of my life alone. But, being with you, I let go of m-my habit of detachment, and without it, how does one forget s-s-so easily?”

“I don't know.” You answered, cause you were still trying to figure that out as well.

“There ugh - there were times when th-the loneliness was almost too hard to bear, and I-I-I couldn't - there was nothing I could do, but I had t-t-to carry on. Still, without trying, the memories lingered, and life seemed to come out of focus.”

“Hmm, I used to wonder about what was going on up there, and what living in that kingdom was like. In your skilled hands it must have been beautiful.”

“It - it was.”

“I used to cry sometimes, because I had heard many sad stories about lonely mountain king. Now, with everything that you told me, I guess it means that a great deal of the stories were true.”

With a nod, he agreed. “Th-they probably were.”

_______________________

“Did you always know where I was?”

“N-n-not always. I could only see so far, even if I - I walked to the edge of the kingdom. However, our first meeting was serendipitous t-t-to say the least. I ugh - I was surprised when y-you found me.”

“I did?”

He raised his brow then, his eyes laughing at the memory. “Yeah, it was while I was resting by the river, after a long day of research. Your mind is such a-a wonderful, fascinating place. I-I never got bored of exploring it, though it - it did make me lonely. My perception of you changed over all this new information. And on that day I-I had been thinking about you when you happened t-to show up. You - you were on your way home, after a-a day of playing in the field, the one nearest to my kingdom. Hohoho, you were holding a daisy chain, and y-you gave it to me.”

“How old was I?”

“Hmm, probably about six or - or seven. I told you that y-you should go home, but you wanted t-t-to play.”

“That does sound like something I'd do. Man, I can't believe you had to deal with a brat like me.”

“No, it - it was no trouble at all. I um - I carried you on my shoulders, until w-we were near your home. And w-waited until you went inside before I went back.”

And you remembered, as fuzzy and foggy as it was, you remembered.

Day by day, you kept having visions of the life before, when you still walked amongst the mortals, and your older male slave was your dearest companion. Why? It didn't make sense, he hadn't even been handsome, but he was kind, loyal, generous, and soft hearted.

Through streams and meadows, with eyes still full of stardust, you followed him as a though you were his humble maidservant. On his sleeves were comet’s hair, his soul made of sunshine, and he too made you very happy. Oh, but it didn't matter anymore; they were simply girlish dreams. Or were they?

“I used to think that you were only a dream, but I saw you near the river a few times over the years after that didn't I?”

With a soft smile, he replied. “Th-that's right.”

“Then why didn't you say anything?”

“Because I wanted y-you to have a choice, and when you got older, I-I-I decided to stay away because the villagers began to talk. I didn't want anyone to be given reason t-to think badly of you.”

That was exactly like him, to look out for your best interests. As a child, at least in your dream living out this second childhood, you did feel funny. Though childish sentiments aside, you had adored the quiet intelligence of his, and the calm, sweet temperament; even when you hadn't the words to match the emotions felt, you carried a strong attachment. “I had missed you, I….it was my favorite part of the day. Why couldn't we have run away together or something?”

Scratching the back of his head, he sighed then looked you dead in the eye, more serious than he had ever been, answering without a stutter. “Because it would have been wrong.”

“I don't understand. It was only a dream.”

“I mean, if I-I would have brought you to my kingdom, you would’ve been given your own wing, and everything y-you desired, but you - you would have stopped aging. That's why I-I never kept any servants, and why you couldn't have come because you would have remained a…you know. ”

“A child.” you finished, and you realized that morally, he would have had to be patient, and focus on the attainable things. “So,” you continued. “you stayed away to keep things appropriate.”

“Mhm. I - I still thought of you as my friend, and I was grateful for even th-that much. I-I knew you wouldn't be a child f-forever, and that I couldn't make time stand still, but neither was I moving along with it. Seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, into months; it was passing along, and I-I remained the same, but you - you had t-t-to survive, and it would've been selfish to make things harder for you. So, I had to wait.”

TBC

[obrienpascal]

Our Deal

Author: dylanobriens-world

Summary: Mitch Rapp is assigned a partner by Stan Hurley. Her name is Nastasia Aleski. The two of them go through some highs and lows and eventually Mitch finds out some bad news about Nastasia and can no longer trust her. But things start to backfire that can lead them both dead.

Author's note: Hey! So I wrote this on AO3 so I will continue this story on there but I wanted to post the first chapter here:) hope you enjoy!!

AO3 link: is above^^

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I knew I had to wake up to go to the bar to meet my new partner my mentor Stan Hurley said I was going to have. He did not mention if it were man or a woman. Although, by the way he looked I can tell he knew who the person was just wanted me to find out myself. I lifted myself out of bed cracking my bones. The dark clouds made it seem it was four in the morning even though it was seventy o'clock at night. It was raining all day meaning I stood asleep till it was time to meet this John doe.

Whoever this person I was going to meet better like drinking at seven at night. It made me think if I should just follow my own path or let them lead the way. Yeah right, if anything they better follow my ass or their out of a job. I don't give a fuck what Kennedy or Hurley says to me. It wasn't hard for me to read people, I take one look at them and I know their intentions immediately. Are they hiding something? Did they hire someone to come with them to make sure I'm not going to kill them or such? It was a gift I had, Hurley helped with it at most but more of me.

Putting on a black shirt with my leather jacket, throwing on a pair of jeans I snatched from my floor and slipping on pair of Adidas shoes, I looked in the mirror realizing I need to shave. I could care less right now. My intentions were to go meet this new partner of mine. I grabbed my wallet and Marbelo cigarettes as well as my cell phone stuffing it in my pocket.

I undid the chains on my apartment front door. I trust no one which is why I put all these chains on my door. I walked out putting my key to lock my door then heading outside. The breeze flowed through my thick dark hair giving my the chills as I stepped into my car.

"Fucking weather," I hissed under my breath starting the engine. My gray Sedan took off to the bar Hurley said my "partner" would be located at. If they recognize me I'll be astonished they wouldn't make a run for it. I've killed many people. Most of them sleep with one eye open because they know I'm coming for them. It's smart, but doesn't stop me from killing them once I lay my eye on the prey.

My sedan came to stop parking in the bars lot. It was packed with vehicles and motorcycles. This better be one hell of a night. I sighed under my nose slipping my hands in my pockets walking into the bar. Immediately chatter fills my ears. Men rambling about the football game. Bar tenders walking around trying to sell drinks, and woman trying to seduce men and drag them to the bathrooms.

Not one of these people looked like a fit to be working with me. Let along able to hold a conversation with half of the drunkies here. I walked over to the bar and sat down on the stool. The man was on the other side taking an order while I sat at the corner with my back to the wall. It was what I always did anyone could sneak up on me. I always needed to be able to look over my shoulder. I fetched out a cigarette lighting it blowing out smoke to my left. Seconds later the man comes over to me.

"What will it be?" He asked cleaning a shot glass with a rag.

I put my cigarette between my index finger and my middle finger. "Just a beer." My tone louder than his over the loud music. They couldn't play better music? Couldn't even hear the game over the beats and the loud hollering from the crazed Giants fans. As my eyes were wandering about they stopped on a woman sitting alone in the corner her back to the wall.

Her long brown hair pushed to the right while she brought her cigarette to her red lips. Her breasts practically were screaming to get out of that tight red dress she was wearing revealing sexy toned legs. She uncrossed her legs when her eyes met mine. The mysterious woman tapped the end of her cigarette letting the ashes fall to the ground as she looked back at me with a flirtatious smirk.

I tried to look away but I couldn't. My eyes were glued to the beautiful woman just a couple of seats away from me. All of a sudden she stood from her chair walking over to me. As she sat down next to me she sat tall with good posture waving for the bar tender to head over. When he came over he tried hard not to stare at her tits. She didn't seem to mind though when he kept sneaking a peak.

Finally, he went to go make her drink then she rested her elbows in the counter bringing her hands together turning her head to me.

"Hurley said you never arrive early." She said to me with a honest tone looking at me with concentrated eyes. I did my best to hide my surprisement in my eyes. How did I not see she was my partner? It all ran so clear. This woman sat in a corner her back to the wall just as me. Along with that, she minded he'd own business letting all this ruckus smooth past us.

"Hurley can mind his fucking business." I snarl taking a sip from my beer. The nameless woman looks away letting out a giggle as the man comes back with her drink.

"Thank you, dear." She says taking it in her hands giving him a wink. The man blushes hard before walking off to another customer. I guess she had her ways to get out of paying for her drinks. Smart girl.

"Would you give me your name or it's a secret?" I ask waving my cigarette around as I spoke.

Her eyes batted as she turned to me sipping her liquor through a thin straw. As she let out a sigh of relief as she was satisfied with her drink of choice she moved her body more to me meaning she doesn't want anyone else to here what she's about to say.

"I am Nastasia Aleski" she smiled through her teeths holding out her small hand for me to shake. I took it in mine giving it a firm shake as I tried to study her face to find a any hint she was lying. I couldn't find any hint of her not telling me the truth or she was just good at hiding it. "I know who you are," she pauses leaning closely, "Mitch Rapp." She whispered that sending shivers down my spine. Nastasia moved away bringing her straw back to her lips.

"I bet you know I've killed people." I say in a low tone but loud enough for her to hear. Nastasia gives a small nod.

"So have I and every other insane person in this world. Your no different. Stan was very clear on who I was going to be dealing with. A sad man who lost his wife and hasn't been himself since." Why would he tell this woman all my deep personal shit if I haven't met her till today. The next time I see him he better hope I don't beat the living shit out of him. "But don't worry I too lost someone close to me. It's not a pleasant feeling."

"Who was it? A husband?" I guessed bringing my cigarette to my lips.

Nastasia shakes her head putting her drink down stirring it in circles with her straw. "My father just when I was a little girl. I was close to him more than my drug addict mother who left us when I was ten. Haven't seen her since and never want to see her again. I do miss my father dearly, sometimes I think he's in my dreams with me." She states looking in the different drink choices on the shelves in front of us. It was hard to read this girl she had years of practice to never let a stranger or anyone be able to read her.

"I'm sorry for your lost."

"I don't need your pity. Now, let's just get to business. Hurley told me to meet at Irene Kennedy's office with you by the morning. Kennedy also knows you won't make it there in time so she suggested I spend the night with you to make sure you get there in time because this meeting is very important." She stated shitfting in her seat to face me. Was she joking? We'd only just met also why isn't Irene telling me any of this? I knew the reason, it would have stopped me to meet up with the woman. It was hard enough to be read her now she has to be with me in my apartment.

"Mitch?" She called out grabbing my full attention.

"Right, sorry. All right, sure let's go now." I tell her stepping out of the stool. I held out my hand for her to get down on her high heels and she took it giving it a squeeze. Nastasia smiled hard releasing her hand out of my grasp waiting for me to lead the way. I walked out of the bar holding the door open for her and she thanked me walking tall outside. It was raining once again as it was darker than before when I just arrived here. The long brown haired woman started to shake at the cold temperature. Standing just outside the driver's seat I walked took off my jacket handing it to Nastasia.

"Thank you, Mitch." She greeted as I unlocked the car and she climbed in the passenger seat. Who knew my night would end in bringing home a woman who is my partner for however long Hurley keeps her in my life.

I drove away from the bar turning on my wipers wiping the rain drops away. She was still shivering so I moved my hand to turn the heat up. The rain was getting heavy by the minute which didn't help how cold my car was. The red light turned green and I drove up the road. Next I turned right and drove up to my parking space.

"This is me." I point to my apartment building. I took the keys out the ignition opening my door. "Well, I hope you can run in heels doll face." I smirk at her before leaping out of the car. I jogged to my front door looking for my key. Seconds later I heard heels clacking against the concrete then hopping up my stairs. I found my key opening the door rushing in as did Nastasia. She throws my jacket to the ground running her hand through her wet hair.

"Boy, was it raining hard. I have to get out of this dress." She says staring down at her wet body.

"The shower is down hall to the right. And I suppose your not going to wear that dress again so I'll just leave my clothes in the spare bedroom." I tell her taking my shoes off to leave them on the mat by my front door.

"Thank you, Mitch." She says once again leaving her heels on the mat then walking down the hall to the shower. I let out a exhausted sigh then walk to my bedroom tearing off my clothes. I didn't mind not showering till she was done. For now I put on a new pair of boxers and turn on the TV. Light flashed in my room from the lighting that just started. Right after the lighting it thundered loudly.

I was surprised she wasn't alarmed by that. Well, thunder storms are more for kids to be afraid of right? I lifted my head from my pillow and noticed it was now soaked. Oh well, I has to get out of bed anyways to give Nastasia clothing. I crawled out of bed to my draws. I opened the top one taking out a T-shirt then next to that draw I took out a pair of checkered red and blue pants.

Holding the clothes in my hand I walked down the hall opening the guest bedroom noticing she already settled in. Her phone was on the night stand along with her cigarettes and purse. Was it okay if I snooped a little? I mean she was in my home. I put the clothes on the bed as I walked over slowly to her cell phone. Finger prints can leave on anything. A phone you'll catch the finger print in a heart beat. My long finger was hovering over the home button until I heard a females voice from behind.

"What do you think your doing?" Nastasia questioned gripping the towel her angry eyes staring back at me. She walked over by me grabbing her phone. I stepped back pointing to the clothes.

"I told you I was bringing you clothes."

"You left out snooping through my phone." She snarled at me her nostrils flared up.

"It's hard to trust someone I just met who's in my home. So I wanted to check if your not someone Hurley did sign."

She let's out a long sigh closing her eyes, "Mitch. I know it's hard for you to trust someone but, I mean no harm. I'm just doing this business for Kennedy and Hurley that's all. You have absolutely nothing to worry about now please can I get dressed I'm exhausted." She explained unwrapping her towel slowly cuing me to leave. I raised my eyebrows then sprinted to the door. Without looking back I said.

"Enjoy your night," I closed the door behind me heading to the shower. I was exhausted as well and couldn't wait to finally get some rest for the hell I'm going to get tomorrow.

I turned on the water letting my boxers fall to the floor as I stepped into the shower. The warm water hit my back as it felt like a massage. I ran my fingers through my wet hair putting shampoo in it. I let the soap fall to the floor, next I washed my body then turned off the shower. I stepped out grabbing a towel drying my hair and face then wrapping it around my waist.

Maybe I should shave so Irene doesn't bother me about it tomorrow. I grab my shaver shaving my thick beard. I put it down rubbing my face as there no longer is a monster beard on my chin. I walk over to open the door walking to my bedroom. Should I check on Nastasia? Or just let her rest? I walked to her room as the door was cracked open. I peaked my eye in not being able to see much which made me open the door a little more noticing she was sleeping with the clothes I gave her snuggling one of the pillows. Good thing she was asleep for all I know she would've tried to leave. I did only meet her a couple of hours ago. Tomorrow better be one hell of a meeting. Otherwise, this woman is in my spare bedroom for no apparent reason.