#i think i deserve a gift for not abusing the hell out of the adjustment layers this time

[catboyolli]

BLIND CHANNEL - WHERE'S THE EXIT

[tainted-wine]

Primal Dissonance

Hawks x Reader (NSFW)

So anon was like:

And since I’m total ass at writing short drabbles, or maybe it’s because they called me senpai, I ended up with a whole-ass fic. This took a different route than planned but I hope you enjoy, anon!

Words: 4.3k

Warnings: Dubcon, Pheromones, Mindbreak, Feral Hawks, Rough and Public Sex, Tit Abuse. This totally isn’t as dark as it sounds.

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Hawks has been getting noisy. Not in the usual sense; he’s always a motormouth. No, he’s been making sounds that you’ve never heard him make.

At first you thought he was sick and something was irritating his throat, but on one occasion when you offered him water after hearing the sound, he almost looked offended. You concluded that it wasn’t an illness.

You later noticed that the noise often happens when it’s just the two of you together. During late night movie viewings at his place, he’d hold you close and release a constant hum, the vibrations from his chest and wings soothing enough to make you drift into sleep in his arms. You never saw the look of disappointment in his face as he decided to cuddle you for the rest of the night.

Just a few days later, he spots you during one of his patrols and presents you with a surprise expensive gift. A ruby pendant, the same brilliant shade as his feathers, was placed around your neck by gentle gloved hands.

“Hawks—why—what did I do to deserve this?” You asked while your eyes reflected the gemstone’s sparkles.

“Just wanted to give a pretty gift to my pretty girl.” He gave you a kiss, and waves of soft hums leave his mouth and into yours, flowing through your body, stimulating all of your nerves and triggering pleasant shivers. One makeout session later, and you both pull back to lock eyes. He’s looking at you expectantly, but you don’t even know what the hell he’s expecting.

You look to the side awkwardly. “Thank you, Hawks. It’s beautiful, but I…don’t have anything to give in return. This was a complete surprise, after all.”

His eye twitches, but he smiles and embraces you. “That’s fine, chickadee.”

A pigeon appears during your hug, and the soft coos emanating from it give you an epiphany.

“A pigeon! That’s what it is! You’re cooing like a pigeon!”

This time it’s his smile that twitches. Did you say something wrong? Whatever it is, he brushes it off with a half-hearted laugh. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

That was also the day you noticed his rising body temperature. You asked once again if he was feeling ill, and at least this time he didn’t appear to be upset when he answered ‘no.’

On the next night you spent in his home, he—and you’re still not over this—took your hand and pulled you in for a dance. It wasn’t some silly jig in which he blindly moved to a random pop song, it was a slow classic love song, and he moved both of you in an elegant dance fitting for a ballroom.

It was the last thing you expected from the hero that normally took you on KFC dates or, if he had the time, reserve a spot at his favorite yakitori place. But there was no way you could say that you didn’t like the way his feet glided across the floor, wings acting as a living cape that made each of his movements look all the more graceful, and you followed his pace as best as you could.

You clung onto him more tightly than intended when he dipped you after a spin, sharp avian eyes boring into you before he buries his face in your neck, and that’s when you feel more than hear the cooing return. It’s a tune that never fails to make you feel so warm and safe; you have no idea how his gentle sounds have such influence over you.

He looks pleased by your relaxed state, pulling you back up and brushing a few stray hairs out of your face. “So?”

You smiled and gave him a quick peck on the lips. “I didn’t know you had such grace, Hawks. Now hurry up, or we’re going to miss the movie for tonight!”

You scampered off into the kitchen to prepare the popcorn, completely oblivious to the baffled look your boyfriend was giving behind your back.

A few days later and you’re more certain than ever that he’s coming down with something, because now there’s a constant sheen of sweat all over his skin, and his breath sounded labored even when he was just sitting around. Since he ignores all of your pleas to stay home for just a day or two, you come up with another solution. Hawks pouts like a child when you tell him that a little nature and clean air might restore his health, but he still accepts your offer for a date at a nature park because hey, spending a day in natural beauty with you sounds great.

You practically dragged him into a bus after telling him several times that he shouldn’t tire himself out prematurely by flying both of you there. One long scenic drive later, you both arrive at your beautiful destination. The park was huge and lush with flora of all kinds, from tree-filled paths to endless flower fields.

Exploring everything this paradise has to offer with Hawks sounds like a dream, but your main goal was to loosen him up and help him feel better, so you avoided the populated areas, passing the cycling roads, the play areas, the bug houses, all of the charming attractions until you reached the long stretches of vibrant colors. The flower park.

You and Hawks began a slow stroll hand-in-hand, taking in the seemingly endless blooms, the trees shedding petals onto the walkway—all of it served as the most delicious treat for your eyes.

But when you looked at the winged hero to see if he was enjoying the scenery as much as you were, you saw that he was staring at you. His face was slightly flushed, but you couldn’t tell if it was the result of his feverish temperature or if he’s finding this whole date very romantic.

“The flowers are over there, birdbrain,” you joked with a squeeze of his hand.

His wing wrapped around you and pulled you in closer, encasing you in his abnormal heat. “The only flower that matters is right here.” There was a rough breathlessness to his voice that made the otherwise corny line sound sensual.

And then the coos returned, bringing you back to that pleasant world where everything was warm, soft, and safe. The red feathers surrounding you quivered and rippled like ocean waves of scarlet. You were supposed to be making him feel at ease here, not the other way around.

A chorus of chirps snapped you out of your stupor. You broke out of the hypnotic embrace and spot a bunch of small bouncing figures in the white lilac tree in front of you. “Aww, look at all of the little tits, Hawks!” You point at the flock of singing critters.

Hawks snorted immaturely.

Before you could withdraw your arm, one of the Japanese tits flew over and perched on your still-extended finger, leaving you bug-eyed and your mouth agape. “Hi there! You’re a brave little guy, aren’t you?” You said softly, hoping not to startle it. It tweeted in response, fluffing up its black and white plumage as it looked up at you curiously. “Hawks! It’s so cute!”

Red wings bristled, but you were too enamored with the friendly bird on your hand to even look back at your boyfriend. It continued to sing, the tits sitting in the tree joining in to create an adorable medley of chirps, tweets, and peeps. “Such a nice sound, I never realized how amazing these little guys are.” You keep watching the beady eyes that stare right back at you, feeling the bird’s little feet move quickly as it adjusted itself to get more comfortable.

And with a powerful slug from a hardened red feather out of nowhere, the tiny tit is knocked off of your finger and sent flying like a fucking golf ball.

Your pointing hand was still out as you looked on, eyes and mouth now wide open in horror instead of awe. The poor bird managed to right itself before it hit the ground, flapping frantically to ride the light breeze and fly past its tree of brethren and off into the distance, its sloppy turns and sudden drops betraying how dazed it was.  

With your short-lived friend out of your sight, you turned to the man that ruined your magical bonding session, multiple negative emotions boiling inside you and ready to spill right onto this bastard. “Hawks!” You’re prepared to blow his ears off with every ounce of frustration, every concern that’s been plaguing you for the past week thanks to the strange changes that he refuses to talk about, but then you freeze.

The man’s face has darkened, eyes narrowed with its pupils shrunken into beady slits, lips pressed together in a tight frown—he looked enraged. But the terrifying look wasn’t directed at you, he was looking up at the innocent tits still residing in the tree and paying no mind to the violent treatment of one of their own. As his wings slowly spread with feathers sharpened, your chest constricted once you realized what was about to happen.

“Stop!” You threw yourself at him, grabbing at the outstretched limbs in a pitiful attempt to stop them, the bladed edges cutting your hands. It was still enough to shock and prevent him from launching any of the deadly weapons at the birds. You felt his feathers return to their soft fluffy state as he stumbled from your weight. “What the hell are you doing? What, are you pissed that it chose my hand instead of yours? The hell is wrong with you?”

Now he was aiming the glare at you, and you couldn’t help but shrink under the intimidation. His voice was shockingly low. “Just what game are you playing at here? Gushing over another bird’s song right in front of me?”

You eyed his still-expanded wings as you tried to make sense of what he said. “What?” Was all you could say.

“Here I was thinking you just had extremely high standards, but maybe you’re the type that likes to play hard to get, or make your guy jealous and see how he handles it.” He took a step toward you, and you took one back. “Well let me tell you, I’m not handling it very well.”

What he was implying would have made you burst into laughter if he didn’t look so threatening right now. “You’re…jealous? Of the bird that was on my finger?”

He laughed, or at least tried to, but the shortness of breath made him cough. The sudden anger must be worsening whatever has been making him hot and throaty for the past days. He needs to calm down for his own damn sake. “I guess I shouldn’t be, should I? Not for a girl who gets wet over any bird that does something as simple as approach her.”

“Excuse me?” Did you hear that correctly? No joke, did you really hear that shit correctly?

Hawks just keeps on going, taking your bewilderment as more mockery. “I give you something shiny, you don’t say anything.” A flash of several feathers and you feel your arms being pulled in front of you, the red tufts tying your wrist together.

“I put on a nice dance I practiced for, and you don’t say anything. Did you even notice that I cleaned and decorated the room that night?” You’re panicking from your tied hands and don’t see him fire another barrage that goes for your ankles, their tugs forcing you to lose your balance and fall hard onto the ground with a pained cry. Your hands are forcefully pinned above your head. “Hell, you seem to enjoy my song every time you hear it, so what’s the deal?”

While your heart is on the verge of exploding from its anxious beats, the gears in your head are spinning as you try to figure out how exactly this whole miscommunication even happened, but they keep jamming, filling your head with sparks and smoke of pure confusion. “What song? You haven’t been singing anything!” You yell as you fight against the feather-made cuffs around your hands and feet, but there was no breaking free. They suddenly felt as strong and durable as elastic metal.

Hurt flashes across his face and you don’t understand why goddammit, but it’s quickly masked with another scowl. “You mean the song that’s lulled you to sleep? The song that never fails to put you at ease every time? I can sense it, you know. How calm and pleased you feel whenever you hear it. I know it’s not the loud obnoxious tune of a songbird,” he glances at the tree that continues to emanate various calls as he kneels over you, nearly straddling your waist. Smart of him to keep his groin out of the range of your knees. “But you still enjoy it, right? I’m not too upset that you compared it to a shitty pigeon.”

You only stutter in shaky breaths as he lowers himself and presses all of his weight onto you, your eyes shut as he nuzzles your face lovingly. He feels like a furnace, the sweat from his face slathering onto yours from his rough rubs.

That’s when you smell something potent. You’ve picked up traces of it from him throughout the week, a strange but not unpleasant mixture of salt and sweet. You assumed it to be some sort of shampoo or cologne, but now it’s hitting you full force and it’s making your body…respond. With each inhale, the exotic scent sends a tingle down your abdomen and a release of wetness that dampens your clothing. What the hell is happening to you?

Hawks pulls away and sniffs the air. Your feminine aroma has him moan so suggestively that it makes your core heat up even more. “Oh, so this is getting you going?” He questions in a judgmental tone before something appears to cross his mind, and he laughs with a slap to his forehead. “I’m such an idiot. I’ve been doing this all wrong, haven’t I? You’re not a bird.” He kisses at the side of your face and licks the shell of your ear before whispering, “You’re a mammal. You don’t choose a mate by their pretty gifts or fancy dances.”

The lustful haze invading your mind almost distracts you from whatever is tugging at your pants and pulling them down. “H-Hawks…” You accidentally moaned. You were too out of it to even properly convey your worry. Your pants are removed and something tickles your hips to remove your panties next—that’s when you identify them as more feathers.

“With mammals, males just take what they want. They catch her, hold her down, and fuck her on the spot.”

You gasp when your lower body is completely stripped and exposed—a mistake—Hawks’s intoxicating smell rushes into your mouth and nostrils, making you clench and gush. He lifts himself just enough for the living binds around your wrists to pull and drag you off of the stone walkway and into the blooming batches. The flowers were just tall enough to probably hide you from anyone at a distance, but the winged man crawling over and sitting in front of your feet would easily give you away. “Hawks, someone…might see us,” you mutter.

He only chuckles. “Good, I want them to see. Are you little bastards watching?” He looks up at the lilac tree that now looms right over both of you. The resting tits have gone quiet, most likely intimidated by the large bird-human hybrid that continued to glare at them.

The response was ridiculous enough to temporarily free you from your trance. “I’m not worried about the birds, you dumbass.”

“Hmph, of course you’re not. You’d let them all join in if I’d let you, wouldn’t you?”

You have so many questions about how that would even work.

But you’re interrupted by the feathers around your ankles pulling your feet apart, easily overcoming your resistance and spreading you wide open for the hero in front of you. You have to look away from just how soaked you are, juices flowing from your swollen pussy and onto the soft soil, some of it sticking to your parted thighs in strands. The sight makes Hawks salivate.

“I’m at the peak of my rut and I’m tired of waiting. Gonna make you mine.”

It’s all he says before his entire mouth is on your cunt, tearing a startled cry from your throat. The peaceful sounds of the wind and rustling leaves are overshadowed by the absolutely filthy slurps, sucks, and growls between your legs. He was being a greedy savage that simply wanted to drink you up. There were no careful methods or patterns, just a hungry tongue that lapped at every inch of you and lips that sucked on anything they could grip.

You could barely even writhe from the onslaught, what with your arms pinned over your head and your feet held down so strongly that you couldn’t even move them across the dirt. You kept your sights on the rich colors of various flowers that encircled you as the sweet-smelling haze enveloped you again, enhancing your pleasure. Despite Hawks’ sudden loss of his oral skills, the feral nature of it all—the smothered snarls against your sex, the startling feel of his teeth carelessly grazing your sensitive flesh, and the lewd sight of his face covered in your glistening juices as his glassy eyes opened and stared into yours as he ate you alive—his voracity had you boiling over.

He gulped your essence loudly, welcoming every drop of the orgasmic flood into his mouth. All of the colors in your vision blurred more with each mind-numbing pulse. You weren’t even aware of the shameless wails that left you until the blissful waves finally subsided.

Once he had his fill, he finally pulled away from your mound and boy did he look like a hot mess. His cheeks were a deep red that was slowly spreading across his cum-covered face, a beady string of your fluids hanging from his lips before dripping off. He was climbing back over you and when the fuck did he take his pants off? He must have unbuttoned and removed them while he was licking you into heaven.

He still manages to look smug while he takes in your spent form, your slightly parted lips impossible to resist. Your mouth was suddenly locked with his, the breath you were desperately trying to get back stolen from you. And then the scent returns, this time accompanied with a powerful salted lemon flavor that assaults your taste buds. The taste of your own pussy was insignificant; his aroma in both your nose and mouth is nearly suffocating, your still-recovering inner walls already squeezing out more of your slick.

His tongue thrashes about in your mouth to paint his sweet saliva on every spot he could reach. You swallow it up thirstily and feel an immediate response in your throat that somewhat frightens you. Numbness overtakes your mouth and your throat relaxes completely; you felt like it was suddenly impossible to choke.

Hawks messily pulls away, breathing heavily and licking his lips. “Look at you. All it takes is a whiff and taste of a rutting male to turn you into a submissive little bitch.” You’ve never heard him speak like that, but like every action he’s taken since you’ve been at his mercy, it doesn’t fail to arouse you for reasons you still don’t understand. “Do you want some more? Hmm?”

You’re nodding before your crippled mind can comprehend the question.

The drugged kiss has you dizzy. You’re doing your best to keep track of his movements as he straddles your chest, his cock coming into focus and pressing against your lips. He doesn’t give you a command, you simply open up like a trained whore.

You’re moaning from the addicting taste of his length that pushes all the way to the back of your throat. Once his pubes are flush against your nose, your eyes roll back and you lose all sense of…everything. Everything except for that exhilarant fragrance and flavor.

Even as he begins to move in your mouth, your tongue swirls all around the sweet meat in an attempt to taste him all over. You’re throbbing wildly, but the feathers prevent you from bringing your thighs together for some much needed friction.

He was thrusting in and out at a pace that should have you gagging, but you take the pounding smoothly. Everything was murky, save for the pleasure that was slowly consuming you. You think the birds are singing again, maybe.

Something was smacking against your chin…rather loudly, you think. Hawks’s balls. How obscene, the way he’s hunched over you and fucking your face so roughly, but it’s hard to feel embarrassed when it’s all making you feel so damn good. Drool gathers and drips down your mouth. Your throat has become a second pussy, and he was fucking it like one.

The scent has your entire body on fire and you wish so badly that you could touch yourself. It was too powerful, each breath filling you with more burning tension. Your desperate whines came out as bubbly gurgles around his hammering dick. Your climax is dangling right at the edge. All you need is just the smallest touch on your drenched, deprived pussy.

His thick intrusion suddenly leaves your mouth, allowing oxygen to properly enter your lungs and for the pooling saliva to be swallowed. Hawks says something as you cough and sputter, but everything is still too muffled.

“Good……….not yet……….finish inside.” That was all that you were able to catch. You frankly don’t care. You immediately want his overpowering scent back.

When something pushes past the entrance between your legs, you cum instantly. Your scream is silent, or maybe you just can’t hear it, as your restrained limbs twitch like mad from the excruciatingly pleasurable contractions.

You’re already being fucked roughly while you’re still coming down from your orgasmic high. You’re rocked against the flowers and the soft earth beneath, your peaceful surroundings a stark contrast to the raunchy act currently taking place among them.

Hawks leans in once again, and you have to turn away and hold your breath because you truly felt like one more whiff of that mouth-watering smell would bring you the most euphoric death. His mouth drew closer to your ear, harsh pants in sync with his rapid thrusts. There’s no way a body was meant to handle so much stimulation, yet you didn’t want it to end.

You wanted this powerful man and everything that he had. You want him to fill your womb with his seed…bear his strong and healthy offspring…then let him take you all over again…

There’s a soft rumble that brings you back down to earth, clearing your mind just enough so that all of your senses work properly again. The smudged colors return to their original shapes, and the cooing that vibrates through both of your bodies can be heard loud and clear. His song.

“That’s it, baby. I’ve got you right here. Just give in to me.” Hawks sounds on the verge of losing his voice, weak and graveled, but his singing and hips aren’t letting up.

Finally, fucking finally, the feathers release your limbs. Ignoring how boneless they feel, you use all of your strength to wrap your arms tightly around his neck, and your legs lock right above his ass. You cling onto him like a parasite and moan freely, trusting his low and soft vocals to keep you grounded as his citrus aura captivates you again.

Your involuntary clenches ruin him and take him to his peak, several more hard and deep pumps bringing you to your final climax. Both of you cry out loudly enough to scare away the tits still resting in the tree, the small flock flying off to find a quieter perch.

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Good. That showed the little bastards.

Hawks smiled triumphantly as the small birds fled the erotic scene. Once he was certain that none of them were coming back, he returned his attention to you. Your chest heaved with each audible breath, your entire body drenched in sweat, just like his. He laid a gentle hand on your cheek, thumb stroking lovingly as you close your eyes for much-needed rest after almost losing your mind.

He did it. He finally claimed you, and all he had to do was just show a little dominance…and expose you to a hefty dose of pheromones. It was clearly way more than you could handle—maybe the face-fucking wasn’t the best idea, but it looked like you were enjoying yourself enough. No harm done.

“Excuse me, sir?”

Hawks was a cool-headed man. He’s managed to stay calm and collected in the direst of situations. Still, when he slowly turns around to see a man dressed in the park’s staff uniform, blushing at the sight of a sweaty couple with no pants on among the innocent blossoms, he can’t help but feel just a wee bit fucked.

“H-Hawks? It’s really you? Wha-?” The poor guy is lost for words from the fact that he just found the number 2 hero banging someone in public.

Eh, he’s talked his way out of tighter spots.

With a smile, the winged hero sends a few feathers to his discarded pants and withdraws a pen from its pockets.

“How about a deal, buddy? An autograph from yours truly and a coupon for my merch. All you gotta do is walk away and forget what you just saw.”

[wienerbarnes]

A Certain Romance (4/6)

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 2,111

Warnings: mentions to past abusive relationship, nothing too explicit, though

A/N: some emotional bonding✨ enjoy babes

MAIN MASTERLIST | A CERTAIN ROMANCE MASTERLIST

Bucky presses the little button on the side of his phone knowing the dead battery won’t allow it to turn on. He makes his way up the stairs to your apartment - the elevator is always broken - and hopes you’re home to offer him a charger.

He was getting a few groceries in your area when his phone died, the only place where his list was kept, and had no other choice but to leave and go back later. A curse with technology; a paper list would never run out of battery, he thinks.

He knocks on your door three times and he can hear the low sizzling of something, signaling your presence inside. It takes you a minute to come to the door, though. Longer than the amount of time for you to change your clothes or turn something off, no, it seemed to him like you were waiting to see if he’d leave.

Do you have someone over? Another guy? Are you expecting someone else you don’t want to see? Is it him you don’t want to see? He thinks he’d rather you tell him to his face if that’s the case.

It’s been about a month and a half since you’ve started “dating.” The two of you have started hanging out more frequently, relying less on when Sam asks about what the two of you are doing and going more based on when you genuinely want to see each other. In a friendly manner, of course.

After he knocks a second time is when he hears a quiet shuffling on the other side approach closer and closer to the door. A lock turns and you finally open up, Bucky meeting your slightly puffy and red-tinted eyes.

“Hey.” You sighed before turning around and walking back to the kitchen.

“Hi.” He starts.

You were clearly crying. While Bucky would call the two of you good friends at this point - as well as fake lovers - he’s not sure if he’s in a position to pry about what’s wrong with you. Should he ignore it? Not bring too much attention to your obvious emotions? Bring all the attention to it and try to fix whatever the problem is?

“I, uhh, my phone died and I was in the area, so I wanted to ask if I could borrow a charger?” He starts. Maybe introducing a topic that has nothing to do with whatever is causing you to feel this way will help.

“Coffee table.” Is your curt response.

He takes the minute it takes him to plug his phone into the wall and set it on the coffee table to think of how he can go about this.

“You okay? Actually, don’t answer that - bad question. Clearly you’re not okay…” He tries, quickly shutting himself up when you sigh and slump a bit in front of the stove.

“What are you making?” He slowly walks over to where you are, a pan in front of you on one of the burners.

“Apple and brie mini sandwiches.” You say. More words, same sad tone. Still progress.

“Want me to take over and you can chill out on the couch?” He offers quietly.

“No. I - I want to keep myself busy.”

Progress.

“Okay. Anything I can do to help?”

You let out a shaky breath. His eyes focus on your face as tears gather around the rims of your eyes and you bite down on your bottom lip. A tear drops from your left eye and your hand quickly reaches to brush it away, as though Bucky didn’t already see it.

“Um, can you set up a couple of plates on the table?” You ask, voice strained.

He nods and moves towards your cupboard, setting the table up wordlessly.

The two of you remain silent as he fiddles with the napkins on the table and you finish up browning the bread of the sandwiches. He finally hears the click of the stove turning off and you bring the pan to the table, setting it on top of a piece of cork.

You serve him two sandwiches and yourself one and finally sit down next to him, letting out another sigh.

“I thought I saw my ex today at the market. And it took the entire time I was running back to my apartment in fear to remember that he’s in jail. Four states away.”

He looks over at you and realizes that the look in your eyes he thought was sadness isn't sadness at all. It’s exhaustion. A look he wore himself very often in his days of hiding, days of constantly looking over his shoulder until his worst nightmare came true and he was caught.

Paranoia is something he knows too well and it hurts him to see you suffering from it too. He remembers the brief mention of your ex from your first date together; how he beat the shit out of you. And he imagines he did a lot more than that if it means he’s in prison.

A humorless laugh falls from your lips, “And now I need groceries but I’m too tired and embarrassed to go back. The cashier probably thought I was crazy.” You pick at the crust on the bread with your fingers and Bucky gives you a small, sympathetic smile.

“Eat before it gets cold.” You tell him, picking up your own sandwich and taking a bite, Bucky doing the same after another moment of looking at you.

Gooey brie and crisp sliced apples go great with buttery, toasted french bread, Bucky learns.

“Do you want to help me clean the apartment?” You ask him as you follow him to the sink where he washes off the plates and the pan you used.

“... Your apartment is spotless.” He tells you.

“I know. I cleaned it two days ago. But I like to clean when I have bad days, and you’re already here.”

He grabs the sponge and wipes down the stove, glancing over at you.

“I’d be happy to help you clean. Where do you want me to start?”

He planned on getting his own groceries today, but found himself on his knees slipping his arm as far as it can go under your dresser. I’m going to buy her one of those adjustable Swiffers for her birthday this year, he thinks. After collecting all the dust onto the rag, he tosses it into the pile with the few other dirty rags and glances over his shoulder to look at you.

Down the hallway, you wipe down all the frames on the wall one by one. He hears sniffles every once in a while, but keeps cleaning.

“Alright, I got all the low places and all the high places for you.” He walks over to you down the hallway. “What do you have next for me?”

“Nothing, we can stop for a bit.”

He’s gotten better at reading people. Through getting closer with Sam, through therapy, through becoming a more participating citizen in society. And through getting to know you. He can read you, and he can tell you’re holding something back.

“Anything else you wanna do? Anything I can do?”

“What’s your zodiac again? You’re very caring, you know that?”

“I’m a Pisces and you're deflecting.” He steps closer to you now, eyes less puffy from when he first saw you this afternoon, but tiredness radiating through them. “Talk to me, sweetheart.” He encourages quieter.

“Can we… cuddle? For a little bit?” You ask.

This is the first time Bucky’s ever seen you look so fragile. Not on that first date where you thought he was going to stand you up or when you told him about your ex. Not when you both discussed your deepest secrets on your couch. Not even earlier when you explained why you’ve been crying today. A timorous woman stands before him, now.

“Absolutely, doll. Where, on the couch? Wherever you want.” He tells you softly, seeing a bit of tension leave your shoulders as you gently bring him to the couch to sit, as though you were expecting him to say no.

He’d always used to make fun of Steve when talking about Peggy. Always teasing him as a brother would when the lovey-dovey talk would come out. But this is the very first time he’s ever understood a single thing he was talking about.

You’ll find someone, and they’ll fit you like a puzzle piece. You’ll mold to each other perfectly, and it’ll scare the hell outta ‘ya.

He’s propped up against the arm rest, one leg straightened out on the couch and the other planted on the floor. His arms are around you as you’re sandwiched between his side and the back of your couch. Your hands rest gently along his stomach, head tucked under his chin. A knee hooks around the leg that’s straightened on the couch, the other stretched on the remaining area of the cushions.

Like a puzzle piece.

You’re warm and you’re making him feel warm, both on the inside and the outside. He feels the way he did when he first pecked Barbara Albram on the mouth in grade school. Or when he first sat on a girl’s bed in her room when he was a teenager.

He feels like he has a crush.

“Do you know what love languages are?” You ask after a few minutes of silence. You’re both warm against each other, no blanket needed in the small space. He can feel your body much more relaxed under his hands and the permanent strain in your throat has disappeared.

“No. Sounds nice.”

“It’s the way you express and experience love, either with a romantic partner, a friend, family, that sort of thing. There’s five.”

“What are they?”

“Words of affirmation, quality time, physical touch, acts of service, and gifts.”

He hums, an arm absentmindedly trailing up and down your back.

“I’m not sure what mine is.” He says, thinking back to every relationship he’s ever had, both romantic and not.

“You can be a mix of them. I think you like to express love through acts of service. You did just help me clean half the apartment. And when you told me about helping Sam and Sarah with the boat.” You mention.

“What’s yours?”

“Physical touch. But he kind of fucked that up for me, though.” You scoff.

“I used to love holding hands, hugging, kissing. Not just with him, with everyone. I felt like I had so much love to give and now I have nowhere to put it. I wish he didn’t make me like that.” You confess.

“Only you are in control of that. He’s gone. And what he did was terrible. But it’s up to you to reclaim that. If you have a lot of love you want to give, give it. There’s no one that deserves that love in return more than you. You are worthy of all the love in the world.”

He stays with you on the couch until he feels your breathing slow a bit and your body relaxes against his, small snores and heavy breaths leaving your mouth as you finally rest.

He hears a buzz on the table and is reminded of the reason he came over in the first place. He carefully reaches over to the table and is glad that he’s able to reach without moving you around too much. He presses the button on the side to see a now fully-illuminated screen and a charged battery, as well as a text from Sam.

Double date friday night. Bring ur girl. I’m picking the place

He doesn’t let himself be upset at the fact that Sam’s bound to choose a place that requires him to wear a clown suit because he’s too caught up on it being a double date.

He hasn’t been on a double date since when he shipped out for the war. And times were very different then; he was very different. He’d be nervous even if he wasn’t fake dating you and was going with a real girlfriend.

Maybe I can cancel, tell him I’m busy. You know that won’t work though! You’ll reschedule over and over and over again until Sam just shows up out of the blue with his girlfriend, even worse if it’s an occasion where you tell Sam you are with her when you’re not. Bit the bullet, Barnes, it won’t kill you.

He glances down at your sleeping face, calm expression soothing his own nerves now that he’s replied with a text confirming both of your presences.

It’s only a double date, what’s the worst that can happen?

[fanartfunart]

@sapony01​ commented on one of my Sides Swap posts: Can you explain their function and personality a bit better/explore them? Some are kinda obvious but some kinda confuse me

And, but of course! I’m totally open to it! (I’m mostly making another post for it because otherwise it’ll get absurdly long)

To summarize, the main idea is that they keep their personality and secondary traits they represent (Like Ego, Emotionality, ect), while further representing the Main Trait (like Anxiety, Creativity, ect)

The rest under the cut:

Anxiety

Roman: His key representation of Anxiety would befall closer to overemphasizing bravery and ignoring problems, and of course, insecurities. Thus a focus on Dangers you can Fight, and avoiding things you can’t. A emphasis on the Knight theme as a representation of bravery. He’d use ego and theatricality as a cover- a ‘be weird before people can accuse you of being weird because then it’s on purpose’ type logic.

Patton: The type of Anxiety where you emotionally over extending yourself because you’re scared of social-emotional repercussions. Caring so much that there’s no time and energy to care for yourself. Also a good representation of the Dad-Friend override for Anxiety.

Logan: A representation of over-analyzing the world like an outsider, that emotional distance that, while you’re curious of all the things around you, you can’t help but focus on the bad. Avoidance becomes a key factor and everything is categorized as bad or good off of exaggerated ‘proof’.

Janus: Very self protective to the point that things outside the Comfort Zone are almost always negative and overwhelming. Sarcasm, brittleness, and lying as a way to avoid things outside the Comfort Zone.

Remus: Overthinking creating an Anxious reaction. Basically seeing things in the shadows and over-analyzing interactions. Essentially worries cropping up out of the idea of various terrible things you can think of possibly coming at you from the smallest of hints to it. Also Knight theme because why not.

Creativity 

Logan: A more organized and analytic approach to creative works. Prone to being a literary critic. Draws from media to explain a point. As creativity would likely be the type of writer that hides details and metaphors in everything, focus on foreshadowing and the such.

Janus: Never lets anything be direct, people should be able to make their own conclusions about the meaning of the text. Probably thinks method acting is fun. The kind of actor/writer that easily shrugs on different types of characterizations that it makes other people dizzy seeing him switch between them.

Virgil: Your inner Emo Art Phase personified (everyone has at least one somewhere in there). Would prefer to be either a lesser known creator, or not let Thomas use his real name (thus Ghostwriter), because being Known is Awkward and his work can get too real, being known as a real person could detract from the art. Focus on art as an outlet for expressing negative feelings and stress relief.

Patton: Take your craft-happy relative who always hand-makes gifts and you’ve got Creativity Patton. Just wants to have fun and share the fun. Draws from positive emotional experiences for creativity because he wants to give everyone who sees said art a hug through said art. (Yes, his design is vaugely based off of Disney’s Pinocchio Geppetto aka Pinocchio’s dad.)

Remus: Take Remus as he is, and then take the ‘intrusiveness’ out of him. He basically has all the same horrifying ideas, but he doesn’t use them to make Thomas upset or anything, he’s just making stories.

Logic

Patton: Sorta a relaxed logic, understands not everything can be solved with a clean logical solution and that emotions hold a important space in people’s actions. Is that little logical voice when you’re super mad going ‘you’re mad because this, this, and this, and this is probably an overreaction to what you’re expressing your anger to, but it’s still valid.’ Prone to emotional fallacies though.

Virgil: You know any super cool teacher/professor who teaches you what the book says and then closes the book and says ‘ok now guess what, they’re also wrong, and I’m probably wrong too’?? Virgil as logic. (also why I kinda gave him the ‘tired + university hoodie’ style) Emphasizes learning from various sources and never trusting any of them 100%. Doesn’t trust his own information either, and it makes him stressed.... but like, he’s always stressed anyway so it’s chill. 

Roman: Bounces from topic to topic to learn. Very curious and easily inspired- also easily distracted. The definition of what a liberal arts education should be doing- aka, connecting seemingly unrelated topics. An Encyclopedia of very specific information. But, once he’s got a set of information it’s hard to let go of it, which makes it hard to adjust to being told he’s wrong.

Janus: Emphasis on how information is always being adjusted, and people’s biases are always present in studies and interpretation. Focuses on debunking things. Also kinda makes it hard to 100% be sure of any information presented.

Remus: Enjoys abusing the ‘technicalities’ in things. A little hard to follow in terms of train of thought. Disturbing Facts are still facts.

Morality

Virgil: Emphasis on sympathy and ‘do what you’d hope people would do for you’ moral arguments. Focus on social structure for the ground rules for moral behavior. That guy who’s constantly nice because he wished someone was nice to him, ya know? Hates the idea of being a bad person so much that it causes a lot of guilt and mistrust of the self.

Logan: Thinks of moral behavior as an equation of sorts. People do good things and that causes good things and that allows the social structure to work as it should, so do good things. Draws on philosophy and other social sciences to argue his points. Easy to readjust his thinking with proper reasoning.

Roman: Just wants people to be happy! And to be good! Emphasis on the reactions of others and how that effects your social/emotional well-being. Do good because it feels good kinda guy (he wants to be somebody’s Hero, ya know how it be).

Janus: Understands that morality is such a grey place that most anything can be seen as bad if you argue it enough. Places value on the self as someone deserving of feeling good as well, and bases moral values on what you as an individual wants to do. Also still kinda morally grey in general and probably shouldn’t always be listened to.

Remus: I Follow no Rules but My Own. Full rejection of social pressures. What precisely that means for his resulting moral standing is up to debate.

Deceit

Logan: Woorsst lair because he’ll twist truth and facts into it and it’s hard to pick out what’s the lie. Very blunt about his role as deception and its benefits and drawbacks. Very good about remembering which lies were told when and to who. Not the kind to lie more than seen necessary.

Roman: Focus on lying as acting and getting to where you need to go in life. ‘Fake it til you make it’ is his motto and it also includes mental states. Makes it hard to be honest about feelings. Very much a ‘lying to yourself’ aspect.

Virgil: Lying to avoid perceived negative repercussions. Lying still bothers him- as lying can also cause negative reactions. Focus on lying in reaction to events, less so on lying to the self. Not every lie is especially necessary though, knee-jerk reactions and fear make it very easy to lie. Lies of omission being the most utilized.

Remus: The opposite to Roman’s ‘lying to yourself’. Lying to others just to see their reactions. Uses being ‘blatantly honest’ about taboo subjects to seem honest about other things.

Patton: Lying to spare people’s feelings and being perceived well. Focus on lying or omitting the truth to seem like everything’s awesome.

Intrusive Thots

Patton: Makes emotional reactions overwhelmingly hard to gauge and control, results in terrifying thoughts and feelings with little control or filter. Gets stuck on ideas because of how hard he’s trying to push it away (yea know, like the white bear experiment).

Virgil: Thinks in problem solving, but the problems are of course, the thoughts of his own creation. Incessant about ‘solving’ the perceived problem.... not much else changes.

Logan: The Mad Scientist aesthetic is fun, what can I say? Takes facts and focuses on the scary parts, and then brings them back up on the slightest hint of relevance, and sometimes just Because. Some of it is curiosity taken into a frightening territory and gets overwhelming.

Janus: Emphasis on what happens if terrible things happened. Also likes using the ‘you’re gonna go to hell anyway just dive in with me’ argument. Occasionally pops up in a way that sounds almost nice, then turns horrifying very quickly.

Roman: Take Roman, make his ideas more Remus. He’s already Loud and Proud, just make him scarier, and a little more incessant and probably a little more arrogant for good measure.

[mirkwoodshewolf]

Happy Father’s day; Roger Taylor x reader

*Author’s note*

Hey guys I know this isn’t really THE chapter that everyone is dreading but I figure before I even do that, I need to give you guys SOME form of fluff so I sat down and thought to myself, in honor of Father’s Day why not do a Father’s day Rock Angel chapter. So in this chapter it’s filled with NOTHING BUT PURE ROGER TAYLOR FLUFF! I hope you all enjoy this little update and until the next one, make sure you have tissues on hand.

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things​

@waddles03​

@psychosupernatural​

@ixchel-9275​

@simonedk​

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels​

@platawnic​

@queensdivas​

@queendeakyy​

@kairosfreddie​

@onebigfangirlworld​

@bohemiansweede​

@5sos-wdw​

@labessieisallama​

@isabella-bby​

@dj-lowkey​

@naturalswifty89​

@starswin​

@geek-and-proud​

________________________________________________________

*June 21st, 1984. Roger’s POV*

I was sleeping peacefully in my bed.  After getting in home late from doing some last minute adjustments to my second solo album Strange Frontier, I deserved to sleep till lunchtime.  Well I did till I felt the little man come up and jump on my bed and crawl up to me.

“Daddy wake up.” I felt him nudge my shoulder.  I pretended to stay asleep even though I was completely aware of him. “Dad wake up!” he whined before pouncing on top of my back and crying out even louder “Dad! Daddy! Daddy! Daddy! DAD!!!” I smiled into my pillow and rose up from my sleep which forced Felix to roll off me.

“What is it Felix?” I yawned out. “Didn’t your mum tell you not to disturb daddy when he comes in late from work?”

“I know but I couldn’t wait any longer to give you this.” He then held up a handmade heart card. I brought it closer to my face so that I could read it better and it said in blue crayon.

To Daddy

From Felix

I opened the card up and there was a little poem.  It read:

Roses are red

Violets are blue

Guitars are cool

But not as cool as you

Happy Father’s day to the best Daddy in the world!

Love Felix Taylor

I smiled and brought my little man close to me, gently ruffling his hair.

“Thanks pal. I love it.”

“You do?” he asked me.

“Of course I do. I’ll keep this close to me right down in the basement studio.”

“I’m glad you liked it daddy. I worked hard on trying to find the right words to write.” I smiled and ruffled his hair as I pressed my forehead to his, my nose grazing his.

“I know you did. You’re just like your father like that.”

“Well now that I see you managed to wake your father up, is it time for his breakfast in bed now?” Dominque’s voice soon spoke up.  She stood at the doorway with a tray of my favorite breakfast.

“Yes mummy bring in the breakfast. I helped cook it specially for you daddy.”

“Did you now?” I asked.  He nodded as Dominique came up to us and placed the tray of food down in front of me. It was all of my favorites, scrambled eggs, and bacon with a tall glass of orange juice.

“Mummy let me crack the eggs and even mash them up.” I took a bite of the eggs first and moaned loudly.

“Well you’re definitely hired as my new head chef Felix.” I told him.

“Hey, hey no talking with your mouth full. I swear Rog you’re always teaching him bad manners.” Dominque scolded me.

“Oh come on it’s my special day. Give me a break.”

“Fine. Come on Felix let’s leave your dad to his breakfast in bed.”

“Awww!”

“Come on you.” Dominque picked our son up and walked out but stopped and turned back towards me.

“Oh Rog I almost forgot, someone left you a present this morning on the front porch.”

“The front porch?” she nodded.

“Once you’re done with breakfast, it’s on the dining room table.” She then left the bedroom with our son leaving me to eat my breakfast alone.

After breakfast I brought the tray as well as my empty plates and cup down and right there was a small box wrapped up standing there on the table.  I put my dishes up and tucked the tray back between the fridge and the cabinets and walked into the dining room and picked up the small box.

Attached to it was a tag that had my name on it but it didn’t say who it was from.  I untied the box and opened it up and inside it was a brand new watch.  Not only that but it was the latest model, it had a nice black leather strap and the main watch itself was a nice silver color.

I looked back in the box and there I found a note tucked away inside.  I took it out of the box and I read it to myself.

Roger,

I hope you like the new watch I bought you. You’ve said you’ve been needing a new one.  On this day, I hope I can do something that I hadn’t gotten to do in years.

While you’re celebrating Father’s day with little Felix, I’ve got a special surprise for you later tonight.  Attached to the back of this letter is an address you’ll need to go to before sunset tonight. As well as a couple places I want you to go to stop at first.

Hope this Father’s day proves to be the best one you’ll have.

Your lion cub,

I smiled as I shook my head.  Oh that girl. She didn’t have to get me anything, especially with her wedding in a few weeks.  Yet she managed to take some of her own money and get me this expensive watch.

As she said on the back was an address to the main event tonight and just underneath that were two places I needed to go to later this afternoon.  One of them was a tailor shop, and the other was the name of our favorite restaurant with directions on the reservations for 3.

“That lion cub of mine.”

“What’d she send you?” Dominque soon came in.  I showed her the new watch as well as the note.  She smiled and said.

“She really does spoil you doesn’t she?”

“Well, not as much as I do her. You should’ve seen me on her first birthday with us. Even though she wasn’t our intern anymore I still wanted to make sure she had a good 19th birthday. Especially after I found out that she hadn’t had a birthday since her parents died.”

“It’s unbelievable that after going what she went through that she’s still the golden hearted woman she is. I mean she’s good with Felix as well as Chrissie’s and Ronnie’s kids. And she keeps you guys in check when on tour or at the rehearsals.” I nodded.

“I mean—there’s no way that I would have enough strength to go through all that verbal abuse, not to mention dealing with a parent’s death at that age and not come out differently. I probably would be the biggest arsehole in the world if I were in her shoes.”

“Well you’re not. So don’t go trying to start becoming one.” I saluted her and gave her a ma’am yes ma’am.

Later that day after getting a couple more gifts from Felix like some drawings and even a little acting performance of a play he wrote, it was just 20 minutes before the lunch reservations.

We all got around and I drove us downtown to the restaurant.  When we got there I told the server that there was a reservation for 3 under the name Taylor.  She looked over and soon found it and told us to follow her.  We got a special table all the way in the back where we wouldn’t be disturbed by any fans but had a nice outdoor view.

The lunch went really well and another little surprise was that when Dominique went to pay for the meal, our waiter told us that the lunch had been pre-paid.  It was then I knew that it was another (Y/n) move.

I looked down at my new watch and found that it was close to the time where I needed to head to the tailor’s shop.

“You guys go ahead and head on home, I need to make one last errand run before I need to head to my final destination.” I told Dominque.

“Do you want the car for tonight? Felix and I can take a cabbie if you do.”

“If you’re sure you want to hail one down.” She nodded and said.

“Take the car, besides who knows what traffic is like and they charge you even if you’re in a parking lot.”

“You’re going again daddy?” Felix asked me looking up at me with those puppy dog eyes of his. I knelt down to his height and said.

“I’ll just be around the town for a bit. I’ll be back later tonight, I promise.” I bopped his nose and his frown slowly turned upside down. “C’mere give me cuddles.” He came up to me and we hugged each other and I gave him a kiss on top of his head. After separating from each other, I gave Nique a peck before heading back over to the car and drove to the tailor shop.

About 10 minutes later I arrived and parked right in front of the shop.  I entered inside and standing behind the counter was a well-tailored man wearing glasses.

“Welcome to Kingsman tailor shop, how may I help you?”

“Yes I uhh—I’m here to pick up a suit. Under the name Taylor.”

“Ahh yes, the young woman called us a few weeks ago about this order. It’s all ready for you in change room 1.” I nodded in thanks and went to the left into the first changing room.

Inside I saw a well-tailored blue suit.  It was a dark blue colored which she knew I looked pretty good in.  But it got me thinking just where the hell I was going to go that I needed to wear this fancy thing? I changed from my normal clothes into the tux (hopefully to make sure the measurements were good) and when I looked at myself in the mirror, I didn’t look too bad.

At least they got the measurements correctly.  I stepped out into it and the clerk said to me.

“Looks smashing on you Mr. Taylor. She really did right by you this time.”

“Yeah. Now do I have to pay for it or—”

“The young lady who called in about it already put in the down payment for the tux. It’s all taken care of.” Thought so.

“Thank you.”

“Anytime sir, have a good rest of your day.”

“You too, take care sir.” I went back towards the car and decided that now would be the best time to go to the address that was written on the note.  Taking it out of my jean pocket, I read over the address once more and soon I was on my way back to Leicester.

Later that night I soon arrived in Leicester right at the address where I was told to go to. When I arrived I saw before me a small little cabin building with lights and decorations already set up.  I was also saw that there were crowd of people already pouring in, but what surprised me was that the crowd of people in there were father’s with their kids (ranging between 6-10).

Okay this was—a little weird.  I’m gonna look like some sort of creepy rotter for coming here and just waiting around watching all these dads dance with their kids.

“I was beginning to think you wouldn’t come.” My heart paused.  I turned around and standing there with a beautiful white dress with a red sash wrapped around the middle, and flowers decorating her hair was (Y/n). “Kinda silly I know. I look like a grownup Barbie doll dressed like this.”

“You look beautiful.” I said.  I walked up to her and lifted her chin up so that she could look into my eyes. “Like a true Princess.” She smiled then took my hand and led me away from the front of the building to the back.

Around back there was an outside dance floor and all the firelight decorations were placed all over the wooden railings decored with flowers or vines.  I could see some of the father’s with their daughters already slow dancing with each other.

“Every year my Primary school held a Father’s Day dance. It was a special something the school did to help celebrate the fathers of the kids that come into their school. I remember my dad always taking the time out of work to come with me to these dances, helping me get ready, dolling me up in a pretty dress, dancing with me till the moon came up. After the car crash I—” she stopped and looked down sadly.

My brows furrowed in concern as I hugged (Y/n) close to me and just silently held her.  I gently squeezed her comfortingly as she softly sniffled and let out the tears.  God I can’t imagine what this day meant for her after her father died.

At her age, she must’ve thought even though she lost her father maybe her uncle could be the positive male figure in her life.  Only to find out he’s a rancid old arse who belittled her for everything she did, criticizing her whenever she didn’t succeed (even when she did. Just not to his standards). All the while still grieving over the lost of the only man who ever gave her love and affection.

Seeing and hearing everyone talk about how their father’s were involved with their lives, or how much their dad loved them, it must’ve been Hell for her.

“I’m here lovie. I’m right here. Let it all out.” She sniffled and patted my arm assuringly.

“I just wanna thank you, Roger Meddows Taylor. For being the father figure I needed in my life. Now more than ever.” I released her from my hug and held her face in my hands, gently wiping away her tears.

“Of course love. I’m always gonna be there for you, no matter what. You may not be my child by blood, but I truly have come to see you as my own daughter. From the day you first gave me that 1 and 3/7th sugars.” We both laughed softly.

“I still can’t believe that that’s just a joke you always do to the new interns.” My grin grew wider as I continued to laugh softly.

“But it just showed me you were truly a caring person.” I placed my hand against her cheek and she closed her eyes as she nuzzled against it.  Her eyes, which were still slightly teary, glistened underneath the full moon and the stars.

“I—know we’ve got our Father-daughter dance for my wedding in just a few weeks. But, could you—join me for this Father’s day dance?” I gently smiled at her and got down on one knee.  I held her hand in mine and looked right up at her as I answered.

“It would be my honor.” She smiled happily as I stood up and brought her close.  We could hear the music from where we stood and as a slow ballad song began playing, I brought my baby girl close to me and the two of us gently swayed together.

The two of us danced underneath the moonlight and if someone were to see it, it’d be like seeing two silhouettes dancing in perfect harmony of each other.  Whenever I would give her a gentle twirl, her dress would flow just like waves on the beach.  

But what I enjoyed most was having her pressed close to me so that her head would rest on either my shoulder or chest, and I could press my nose to the crown of her head. This kind of intimacy was something I would never have with any other girl.

(Y/n) (l/n), soon to be (Y/n) Kline, was my daughter.  No matter what anyone says.  I view her as my daughter, and that’s how it shall always be.

After the dance, the two of us took a midnight walk along the open fields of where the cabin club was.  There was a large field of flowers along the rolling hills and there she had a small little picnic set up.  Mostly with sandwiches and a bottle of wine.

Together we snacked on the sandwiches but mostly we drank the wine.  When the bottle was nearly empty the two of us cuddled up close together along the hill, my jacket covering her up as she lay her head right over my heart.  She had passed out just a few minutes ago and I stared down at her.

As gently as I could, I took the flowery headband off her head and gently stroked through her soft hair.  I pressed a kiss to the crown of her head as I turned back up towards the sky.  The stars sparkling down at us like billions of little spotlights.

But one star in particular shined bigger and brighter than the rest.  I smiled tiredly up at it and softly said.

“You’re welcome (F/n).” I lay my head right up against hers before falling fast asleep from the wine. All the while never once letting go of my little girl.

Yeah, she was definitely right.  This would forever be the best Father’s day I would ever know.

[kmclaude]

Writing: A Monster (III) - Family

AKA Vampire!Tiefer AU

A vampire AU story of my characters Jehan and Tiefer and them where Tiefer’s a vampire, so sex and violence ensue and sexualized violence and violent sex also ensue, as well as cursing, mentions of various abuse, dubious consent, penetrative and nonpenetrative sex, infantilizing, and overall cruelty. This part features daddy kink and urine (in a mostly nonsexual way.)

Check the reblogs for links to part I and part II. Most of this is under a read more because it is LONG.

---

When Jehan kissed his godfather and agreed to stay with him -- choose him -- sure, he didn’t expect Tiefer to embrace him with open arms and suddenly give him free reign to come and go as he pleased, but he thought they would at least be beyond tying him down to the bedframe. Unfortunately, that was just wishful thinking.

“Parrain, please, you know I won’t leave.”

“An’ I believe you, baby, I do,” Tiefer said from above him as he tied his wrists to the frame, loose enough that he could move around, at least to roll his feet to the ground and piss in the bucket that Tiefer had dragged in from the yard and left beside the bed. “But I can’t go takin’ any chances. We gotta be careful now if you wanna live like a normal family.”

“Normal families don’t tie each other to the bed,” Jehan huffed, though he had laid in it willingly. Or, rather, as willingly as he could given the circumstances.

Tiefer frowned. “Mine did.” He tightened up the ties and then reached up, adjusting the freshly applied bandages he’d placed over his eye -- “for appearances,” he’d said when he’d applied it, right before walking Jehan to the back bedroom. “I promise, it won’t be much longer. Just until I can transfer out of this parish, somewhere far from here. Then you won’t have to hide away.” He pouted mockingly. “I’ll just tell the archbishop I’ve been so traumatized with what happened and so grievously injured at the hands of the poor confused godson I cared for so much, he’ll have to grant my request. And if not, well,” a dirty smirk crossed his face, “I’ll just say I fucked a bunch of little boys. They’ll transfer me without a word.”

Jehan obviously didn’t find it as funny as his godfather did.

“Speaking of little…” Tiefer walked around the bed and grabbed Jehan’s hips, hands on the waistband of his underwear, tugging the cloth down and off his legs.

“No-- wait--”

“Oh calm down, I’m not gonna touch you,” he huffed. “Ain’t got enough time to enjoy it.” He threw the pair of underwear to the other end of the bed. “Unless you’d rather piss yourself than use that bucket, you ain’t gonna want those on you.”

“Thanks...I think…” Jehan pouted, obviously preferring the third, unavailable option of an actual toilet but there wasn’t much he could do besides wait it all out: wait out the day, wait out Tiefer’s transition to a different parish, wait out his moods and trust until Jehan could get the upper hand...wait out Tiefer staring between his legs. When Tiefer’s gaze didn’t waver, however, he quickly crossed his legs, pulling his knees up to try and hide himself.

Unfortunately, it only gave Tiefer a very lovely and direct view of his still-smarting ass--an irony which was not lost on Tiefer, considering the sharp laugh he’d breathed out.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” Jehan huffed, his face flushed.

Tiefer frowned. “Regrettably.” He leaned over Jehan, kissing him lightly on the forehead. “Gotta straighten out my story with my superiors,” he said, petting Jehan’s cheek and then his throat and his chest and his stomach until he reached between his thighs. “An’ then there’s the funeral service.” His fingers wrapped around Jehan’s cock.

“You said you wouldn’t--”

“Don’t interrupt, babydoll, that’s very rude,” Tiefer said, baring his teeth. “Like I was sayin’, gotta say the funeral for your mama an’ little baby brother.” He pumped him until he was just hard enough and then slowed, running delicate touches around the head. “Then, of course, I’ll have to tidy up on aaaall my duties that had gone slacking since I was...indisposed…” He glanced down at Jehan’s pink cock, flushed with blood, and grinned, teeth bared as he withdrew his hand. “Fuck you’re so cute, boy...too bad I won’t get a taste for a long while…”

“Wait--”

“See you later, Jehan.”

“No, don’t-- Come back!”

Tiefer all but disappeared in thin air with how fast he seemed to have left the bedroom, crossed the house, and gone out the sorry excuse for a door, leaving Jehan stripped, tied to the bed, and painfully, desperately aroused.

“Fuck.” He was in for a long day, alone with just his thoughts--thoughts of his (now late) family, his tenuous future with Tiefer, and his way out of all of this hell--and the latest ‘gift’ Tiefer deigned to bestow on him.

************************* Time passed --or at least it had to have considering eventually, with a few less-than-appetizing thoughts, Jehan was no longer in the compromising situation he started in-- and eventually Tiefer returned around sunset.

“Honey I’m home! Did ya miss me?” His voice carried down the dilapidated hallway and announced his arrival in the bedroom moments before he entered, face alight with a smug sort of glee. “Good to see you’re almost just the way I left you.”

Jehan was far less chipper. “I miss my mother, my father, and my brother; not you,” he replied. “Now let me go, I gotta piss.”

Tiefer frowned. “Missed you too, sweetie,” he said and nudged the bucket he’d left at Jehan’s bedside with the toe of his boot; the slosh of piss against metal replied. “Well, you obviously ain’t too good to use this.”

“‘Cause you left me tied to a goddamn bed all day long, what else was I supposed to do?”

Tiefer shrugged. “Piss yourself.”

“Look can you untie me so I can piss in the toilet like a goddamn human being?”

“That any way to ask for a favor?”

Jehan huffed, an angry desperation that quickly faltered when he met Tiefer’s gaze. “...Please?”

“Fine.” Tiefer circled to the head of the bed and began untying Jehan, still frowning at him. “I’ll let you go.”

“Thank you, parrain.” Jehan’s reply came quick, but Tiefer said nothing, expression still sour, until he’d finished untying him and Jehan found himself free to sit up, leave the bed, walk to the door, and--

“Where you think you’re goin’, boy?”

So much for Tiefer’s good mood.

Jehan froze. “The...toilet?”

“Ain’t you goin’ the wrong way?”

Jehan turned to look at him. “No?”

Tiefer pushed the bucket towards Jehan with the toe of his boot.

“But you said--”

“I said I’d let you go,” Tiefer replied. “Ain’t said you could use the commode.”

“Parrain--”

“Keep trying me, Jehan, and I’ll make sure your only option tomorrow is to piss yourself like the bratty little child you are.”

Jehan’s cheeks went red and he stepped away from the door. His gaze flitted between the bucket before him and Tiefer a few feet away, leaning against the bedframe, a dead silence hanging in the air.

It didn’t last long.

“Thought you needed to piss,” Tiefer drawled. “You know, I’m more than happy to help you with your sorry little excuse for a cock if you’re having trouble.”

“Can’t you leave? Or at least turn around?”

“ ‘Fraid not,” Tiefer replied, looking Jehan over and pointedly letting his gaze rest between Jehan’s thighs.

Scowling, Jehan spat something that sounded suspiciously like “pervert” before closing his eyes so he wouldn’t have to meet Tiefer’s gaze and relieving himself in the bucket. When he was done, he didn’t look up but merely stepped back towards the door. “Happy?”

“I’d be happier if it were my hands on you rather than your own. But...” Stepping away from the bed, Tiefer scooped up the bucket and, as he passed Jehan, emptied it over his head before chucking the bucket aside. “Yeah, I’m happy.”

“Fuck!”

Tiefer sneered as he stepped out of the room, glancing back at Jehan, now piss-soaked. “We can do that later. C’mon, I brought home dinner -- not that you deserve any.” He laughed and headed down the hallway, calling back: “Wash up first, you fuckin’ reek!”

Jehan bit back the urge to ask him whose fault that was in the first fucking place.

************************

“I’m sorry.”

Those were the first words out of Jehan’s mouth as he walked into the kitchen, freshly clean of piss (or as fresh as he could get given their accommodations.) This new life of his was all just a game. He knew, in order to survive, he had to play nice, real nice, but good God did Tiefer make it difficult sometimes. Like earlier.

“Oh really?” Cigarette dangling from his mouth, Tiefer looked up from unwrapping the small take out containers from the bag he’d picked up on the way back to the house. His mangled eye was unbandaged. “What’re you sorry for? Besides getting dressed.”

Or like right now.

Jehan sighed. “I’m sorry for being a brat.”

“And?”

“And for being rude.”

“And?”

“And for...calling you a pervert?”

“Hm.” Tiefer pursed his lips. “Well I guess if that’s all you want to say sorry for…”

Jehan had to work to keep his incredulity from showing all over his face as Tiefer was still facing him.

“Here. Red beans.” Tiefer pulled the lid off a container and chucked a plastic spoon in it before he handed it to Jehan. “Eat up. Once it goes cold, it’s cold. We ain’t got shit in here to reheat it.”

“Thanks…”

“Not that you deserve it.”

Jehan frowned around  spoonful, swallowing hard. “If I don’t deserve it then why bother? We got cold cuts in the icebox.”

“You’ll be eating cold cuts for the next month until we leave.”

The spoon fell out of Jehan’s hand. “Excuse me?!”

Tiefer took a long drag. “I transfer out of here in one”--he held up a finger--”month so until then, we’re stuck here.” He paused, lowering his hand. “Or...well...you’re stuck here. I got my own bed to sleep in--and for appearance’s sake, I really should. Miss havin’ you in it, though...”

“Fuck that! I’m just supposed to be chained up here for a month?!”

“No. Not all the time. Just when I’m not around.”

“Which is starting to sound like all the damn time! Am I supposed to just be tied to that bed and hope you remember to maybe give me some food?”

Tiefer sneered. “Well maybe then you’ll miss me,” he said, taking another drag.

Jehan was silent for a moment. His hands shook. Then -- screams.

“THAT’S what this was all about? THAT’S why I couldn’t fucking piss in the toilet--why you dumped it on my fucking HEAD? You’re mad ‘cause I didn’t miss YOU?!”

Tiefer pursed his lips, cigarette dangling between his fingers. “You done your bratty little tantrum?”

“No I’m not fucking done, you--you fucking--you fucking monster! I hate you! You’ve taken everything from me!” He threw what was left of the dinner Tiefer had bought him at Tiefer’s feet. So much for playing nice. “Fuck your house, fuck your stupid vampire blood disease bullshit, and fuck you!”

Slowly, Tiefer put out his cigarette. “You said you wanted a home,” he said, his eyes unblinking on Jehan. “You said you wanted to be with me. A nice, proper little family, you an’ me.”

“Didn’t have much of a fucking choice now did I, parrain?”

“I told you I could make this good for the both of us and all you had to do--all you had to fucking do--was be good. You think this bullshit” --he gestured at the spilled container on the ground as he stepped over it, coming face to face with Jehan and towering over him-- “is being good?”

Jehan scowled up at him. “Blow me.”

Tiefer snarled before grabbing Jehan by the front of his shirt and pulling him up on his tiptoes to meet his eyes. “I didn’t even ask for your fucking love--you’re your daddy’s son, I know better than to expect that,” Tiefer spat. “All I ask is that you fuckin’ fake it, do what I say, and be good, and so far you’re doin’ a piss-poor job.”

“So get rid of me then,” Jehan replied. “Oh wait, that’s right! You can’t. Because I’m your literal fucking meal ticket. So maybe you should do what I say and I say don’t leave me tied to a bed all goddamn day and then throw piss on my fucking head because you’re so goddamn insecure that the teenager you’ve been fucking for YEARS whose entire family you also fucking MURDERED didn’t MISS YOU!”

For a long moment, Tiefer didn’t say a word. And then, he laughed, his sharp teeth glinting. His very very sharp teeth. That were inches from his face.

Jehan felt his heart sink like a stone into his stomach.

“Oh Jehan…” He leaned in, his lips barely brushing Jehan’s. “I gotta say, it is exciting watchin’ you get all riled up like that, thinkin’ you’re hot shit. Makes me wanna rip open your throat while I fuck your little boy cunt ‘til it bleeds.”

“Wait--”

“In fact, I might just do that.”

“No!”

“No? You’re gonna tell me no?” Tiefer sneered and closed what little space was between them, kissing Jehan hard before shoving him onto the ground and standing over him. “You may be right -- I can’t get rid of you -- but I can make not only this month but the rest of your miserable fucking life a living hell if I so choose,” he said as he positioned his foot between Jehan’s legs, the heel of his boot pressing down on his crotch, “and you, my stupid little brat, you’re really helping me make that decision.”

Jehan gazed up at him from where he lay on the dirty floor, wincing at the press of Tiefer’s foot between his thighs. “I…” This was a mistake. He shouldn’t have let his anger get the better of him. He needed to salvage whatever he could. “I’m s--”

“Screwing yourself? Pretty fuckin’ badly yeah.”

“No, I’m s--”

“Stupid? Yes. Yes you are.”

“I’m sorry,” Jehan bit out.

“Couldn’t hear you from up here, brat. Say it again.”

“I’m sorry.”

Tiefer pressed down, harder. “Louder, you stupid piece of shit!”

“I’m sorry!”

“‘I’m sorry’ what?”

“I’m sorry sir!”

“And what are you sorry for?” Tiefer asked. Each word was punctuated by a slow grind of his boot.

“I’m sorry for not missing you--sir!” Jehan added with a pained squeak. “And I’m sorry for being a brat a-and being rude!”

“Hmm.” Tiefer stepped off of Jehan and slowly offered his hand.

Cautious, Jehan reached out and was pulled to his feet--too hard, even, until he was flush against Tiefer’s chest.

Tiefer kept his grip on Jehan. “So, how you gonna make this whole little tantrum up to me?”

“By...not doing it again?”

It had been worth a shot.

Laughing, Tiefer let Jehan go. “I don’t think that’ll cut it.” He looked Jehan up and down. “Nah, boy, I think you better get your ass into that bedroom ‘cause you might’ve wasted your dinner but I ain’t wastin’ mine.”

“You’re not gonna rip my throat open, are you?”

“Mmm, depends. How good you gonna be for me, baby?”

Jehan was silent under Tiefer’s gaze, adrenaline from his outburst beating against every bit of good sense that reminded him he needed to behave, to play the long game, to be good…

To play house.

Slowly, he stepped forward and, reaching out to put his arms around Tiefer’s neck, kissed his godfather, gentle and soft. His hands ghosted down Tiefer’s shoulders, his arms, stopping at his wrists as Jehan took him by the hand and lead him to the bedroom.

“Very,” he answered once they were beside the bed. Jehan stripped off what little clothing he still had on him and, turning around, sat on the bed delicately. “I’ll be very good for you,” he said, pulling Tiefer closer and adding, “Daddy.”

Tiefer’s eyes went wide and for a moment Jehan was afraid he’d gone too far and severely misjudged his godfather -- at least, taste-wise -- but then Tiefer composed himself, any shock quickly replaced with a snide grin and wicked gleam in his eyes as he tightened his grip on Jehan already flush against him and -- oh. Oh.

He hadn’t misjudged at all.

“Prove it, then, my little brat.”

****************************************

“Wait--wait, stop, please--parrain!”

Tiefer pulled away, blood reddened lips downturned in a frown. Jehan was stripped bare beneath him, his heaving chest and throat littered in bite marks and smeared blood; Tiefer had brought his hands down along Jehan’s behind, and in response Jehan yelped as if he had been burned.

“I’m still...hurting...down there.”

Something flashed in Tiefer’s eyes -- anger and insult, perhaps, at being denied.

Jehan quickly wrapped his arms around Tiefer’s neck, pulling him down into a kiss as a hot, wet apology. “I’ll make it up to you,” he promised once he pulled away, breathing heavy, “if you’ll let me, daddy.”

Tiefer hummed something that sounded like assent enough and, much like a bored cat tolerating a favorite child moving it, allowed Jehan to roll them over until he was on his back and Jehan, naked and bloody and wincing, straddled his hips. There was drying blood on Tiefer’s lips and pinched boredom across his face, as if he was still largely put out and merely counting down the few moments of time Jehan’s slutty little whine of “daddy” had bought from him.

Reaching down, Jehan undid his godfather’s pants and gently pulled his hard cock out. He bit his lip, trying to keep his expression from turning to disgust as he spat in his hand and slowly stroked both himself and his godfather before leaning down, his hips against Tiefer’s, their cocks pressing together, hard and slick with spit and precum. It wasn’t awful, and the control was welcome (much better humping that huge cock than being split open on it) but the thought of another month like this, stinking of blood and sex in a decrepit shell of a house -- the thought of a lifetime of this, living at Tiefer’s whims, having to wear a mask over his festering anger, having to play a fake role to avoid his godfather’s brutal rages, having to be a son, a friend, a lover -- made his stomach turn.

The disgust must have shown on his face because Tiefer’s hands pressed heavily on his hips, keeping him still, his smaller cock trapped between Tiefer’s and his own belly.

“It must really hurt, baby, what with that face you’re makin’.”

“Oh.” Jehan sat back against Tiefer’s thighs. “Y-yeah.”

“Kinda hard to cum with you lookin’ ready to vomit all over me.”

“I’m sorry, I’ll do better, I--”

“Scoot up,” Tiefer interrupted, lazily beckoning Jehan further and gesturing towards his chest.

Jehan did as he was told, situating himself on Tiefer’s chest, knees on either side of Tiefer’s head, and letting his godfather pull him forward until his cock pressed against blood stained lips.

“Good boy.” He took Jehan into his mouth, as far into his throat as the teenager’s length allowed, his hands warm and heavy on his hips, pulling him forward.

“Parrain--”

Tiefer hummed softly -- which earned a very startled jerk from Jehan -- and pulled away with a soft pop. “Go ‘head, fuck my mouth,” he said before kissing the head.

“Pa--”

“Do what Daddy says, Jehan.”

Jehan blushed. Tiefer had never told him to do that before -- hell, he’d actively punished him for accidentally thrusting into his mouth without permission -- and God, if he hadn’t thought about what it would be like, how fucking wonderful it would be to grab his godfather by the hair, nails digging in, and to abuse his throat, make him choke and gag until he vomitted all over himself, all the while pushing his cock down, fucking him harder and harder and harder --

“Fuck!”

At some point he had to have done it -- his vision was white, his hands were tangled in white, and white trickled down Tiefer’s chin from where it had escaped his lips, stretched around Jehan’s cock, mixing with the blood smeared on his face. Chest heaving, Jehan let go of Tiefer and fell back against him, his cock making an obscenely wet pop as he went.

Tiefer merely watched as if nothing had happened, despite his flushed cheeks, messy hair, and burning throat.

“When I said I’d make this nice for the both of us, I meant it,” he said, slowly. “An’ ain’t it nice?”

Jehan was slow to nod. “U-uh-huh…”

“You want it to keep bein’ nice?”

“Yes.” At the look Tiefer gave him, Jehan quickly amended his answer. “Yes sir.”

“Then be good for Daddy, Jehan,” Tiefer ordered. “Y’can start by returning the favor.”

And as Jehan leaned down and took his godfather in his mouth and felt a hand in his hair gripping tighter than it needed to be, he knew he wanted it to be nice because nice was the only way he’d be able to keep behaving, to keep being good -- to find a way out -- without losing his mind.

[mlovesstories]

You Know What You’re Doing Part 11

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TW: Parent/child fight, cussing, mentions of abuse

Words 2800

AN- Here is part 11. Jensen is only sort of an ass. @spndeanbingo square: fake-dating 

“No!” She shrieked. “You’re like him! You monster!” YN grabbed onto James, and he wrapped an arm around her. Jensen was taken aback by her claim.

“Good job, Superhero. This is what she used to do with Terry. I’m tired of wiping her tears away. Now if you don’t mind, I would like to walk her to the couch so she can calm down.”

Jensen nodded. James escorted her inside. Jensen took them to another living room away from the guests.

“And by the way, she uses that cloth to calm down. It was a piece of her baby blanket,” James retorted. Jensen was stunned. He knew he had overstepped greatly. James soothed YN and stroked her hair. “I love you, boogaloo.”

“You haven’t been around, Jay. I mean, not really. You’ve been in San Diego, Europe, and Australia.  The doc said the blanket might be a good idea! I’m sorry! Here!” She took it out of her pocket and threw it at him. The thin piece of material fell to the floor. YN stomped on it and kicked it toward the oldest male. “Throw it away of it makes you feel better!” YN screamed at him and turned into James’ chest, sobbing.

“Dammit. I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”.

“Go away.”

James gave a nod telling Jensen he would stay with her.

“Check on you in a bit. Love you.” He exited and shut the door.

———-

“You ass,” Danneel dragged him into their bedroom. “She is having a PARTY, and you go do this shit?”

“She’s been so jumpy since he got here, so I took care of the problem!”

“No- you don’t see all of her anxious moments, because you aren’t here.”

“Don’t use that against me! We’ve lived this life for over a decade-“

“I’m stating facts, Jay. Not blaming. You just happened to see her have a few episodes. They happen more than you think. Now go in there and tell James he can stay. And tell her you messed up big time. See if she will go back to her party. Now.”

“I’m trying to protect her!” He made his hands into fists.

“You just made her anxiety levels go way up! Relax and go take care of your mess, or I swear you’ll be sleeping in the guest room tonight.”

He took a deep breath behind gritted teeth.

“Fine. But we are not done with this conversation,” he growled.

“Go.”

————-

“James,” Jensen entered the living room. “You can stay. Please go back to the party. I need to talk to her.” He noticed her tired eyes and James’ soothing expression.

“Yes, sir. I’ll see you in a minute, kiddo,” he whispered. YN slowly leaned away from him so that he could stand up. “Don’t mess with my friend,” he lowly told Jensen.

“I was wrong, and I’m sorry. I’m just trying to-“

“Protect her- I know.” With that, James walked back to the patio.

“I’m sorry.” Jensen said plainly. He took James’ place on the couch next to YN. “After a talking-to from Dee, I realized that you need your friend.”

“He’s practically my brother, Jensen.”

“I know. It was wrong of me.” He adjusted in the seat, and YN saw his arm move away from her.

“You can’t do that. Give me something and take it back.” She punched him in his bicep.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“You told me to, remember? And you sure as hell deserve it.”

“I realize that’s what I’ve been doing. That’s not fair. Thank you for telling me. I know I need to do more than apologize, but can we please go back to your party now? Everyone may have eaten all the cake!” He grinned. YN wiped her eyes.

“Okay, but you don’t get to just say you’re sorry. This whole thing was stupid. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need this.” She picked up the remnant of her blanket off the floor and folded it, fitting it into her pocket. She put Jensen’s headphones back on and left the room.

The party ended on a high note. Seeing Donna and Alan was a highlight for her.

“You are spending the night, right, Mimi?”

“Yes, ma’am. Jensen insisted, saying it would be too late when your party ended.”

“That’s right. Now everyone say goodnight. We all need to get to bed.” Jensen inserted himself into the conversation.

“You’re my son. You don’t get to boss me around, Jensen Ross,” Donna smiled. He kept a tough facade and crossed his arms.

“Jensen.” Danneel’s jaw was set.

“Goodnight, Mom.” Jensen smiled at Donna. “Stay up as late as you’d like.” With a kiss on the cheek, he followed Danneel to their room.

“Did you do what I asked you to?” Danneel asked.

“Yes. You realize you don’t get to boss me around, right?”

Danneel stared at him.

Now, can we go to bed?” Jensen pulled back the blankets on their bed with a flick of his wrist for emphasis. As he walked by her to change for bed, she held onto his arm.

“Just- listen, okay? You can’t yank her friends out of her life like that. How would you like it if your mom or dad told you not to hang out with someone who was a good influence on you? It’s a brother-sister relationship. He loves her so much, and you go out and try to destroy it. You on a high horse or something?”

“I am trying to keep her attacks away!”

“Well good job, Jay! The opposite happen-“

There was an abrupt knock on the door.

“Yeah?” Danneel sighed.

“Can I come in?” They heard Alan’s voice bellow.. The daughter-in-law slowly opened the door. The parents saw her standing with Alan at the entrance.

“What’s wrong,” Danneel asked.

YN extended her arms. Red, bloody scratches were splattered over her forearms.

“See, I told you, Jay,” Danneel groaned. “Come here, YN. Thanks for getting her up here, Alan.” Jensen’s father gave a smile and turned to go to one of the Ackles’ guest rooms.  Danneel escorted YN to a chair near their bed.  Jensen walked over to the girls.  

“You’ve been scratching again,” Jensen acknowledged.

“Sorry,” she pulled her sleeves down, but Jensen pushed them back up.  He sucked in a breath.  “I’m so sorry,” YN apologize again.

“This is my fault, sweetie,” Jensen soothed her.

“Jay, go get the first aid kit and some ice,” Danneel nudged him.  He nodded and stood to exit. “It’s not your fault.  We haven’t been there for you.” They sat in silence until Jensen returned.  

“Here, this is gonna hurt.” He wiped her arms down with an alcohol wipe.  

“Ouch,” YN whispered.

“Sorry.”

Jensen cleaned out all of the wounds and wiped the small amount of blood away from her scratches.  When they were done, they talked about it, she told Jensen how her anxiety had been elevated, and he was shocked at how much her worries had increased recently.  Although they were not exactly sure why, YN admitted that she had been sleeping less.  

“We will be there for you.  I promise,” Danneel hugged her, trying not to touch the bandaids on YN’s arms.

_______

The next day, Sarah came over with a gift for YN.  

“Hi, sweet girl!  Here!” The caseworker handed YN a gift.  “What’s that?” She noticed YN’s scraped arms.  

“Nothing.  Got scratched by a dog,” YN tucked her hair behind her ear.

“Did you have a panic attack?” Sara looked YN over.

“I’m fine.  Dee and Jay helped me.  Can I open this now?” YN changed the subject.

“Sure, come on!” Sarah energetically walked over to the Ackles’ couch and plopped herself down.  YN followed behind with a gift in her hand.  

“Oh, hello,” Jensen said to Sarah as he entered the room.  “Thought I heard something going on around here.”

“Just stopping by for a check-in and to drop off a gift for the birthday girl!”  Sarah grinned with pride.

Sarah went over YN’s progress with Danneel, Jensen and the teenager.  They addressed YN’s anxiety and put in place more sessions with her psychologist.

“NO! I’M FINE! Do what you said you would do, and stop stressing me out!”  YN stormed out of the room.  As she exited, she ran into James’ chest while he was walking toward the kitchen.  

“Hey, what’s wrong, kiddo?” He took her by the shoulders.

“Who’s this?”  Sarah walked in.  

“We’re not dating, we’re not fake dating, we’re not a thing.  Leave it alone, Sarah!” YN ran around James and up the stairs.  

“James?  Is that you?’ Sarah changed from sadness to surprise.  

“Yes, ma’am.  Hi, Ms. Sarah.” He shook her hand.  “What’s up with YN?”

“We’re just trying to help her out.  She’ll be okay,” Sarah answered.  “How are you?”

While they talked, Jensen slowly made his way to YN’s room.

“You don’t have to hide, you know.” Jensen said seriously in the open doorway.

“I like the doc, but I should be doing better, not worse!” YN sat on her bed.

“You have been through the shit, YN!  You can’t be okay after all that.  Would you like me to list the things that I know you’ve been through?  I know I don’t even know half of it.”

“Oh, stop Jensen.  I’m fine.” YN rolled her eyes.

“Bullshit. Okay, let’s start.  Mom died, Dad arrested.  You got put into foster care, guy mistreats you, more time in foster care, Dad gets released from jail, tracks you down, you get kidnapped-”

“Okay!  Fine!  I’m not fine.” YN started balling. Jensen walked into her room. She dropped her head into her hands.

“I’m not saying that to be mean, sweetie.  I’m telling you that because you can’t be okay after all that.  You’re a survivor of so many things, and you’re still fighting!  There is so much beauty in that.  But- you have to have help sometimes.  That goes for everyone, not just you.  Jared is a great example.  He went through something that was really hard.  He invested his time into getting better, and guess what?  He is better.” As he finished, she ran into his arms, almost knocking him over. “It’s okay, YN.” Jensen rubbed her back.

————-

The next few days were difficult for YN. James and the Jensen’s parents had left, and she had more appointments with her psychologist which she did not like.

“Here,” she practically threw her blue notebook at the doctor.

“You know I admire you, but this tantrum has got to stop. Pick it up and hand it to me please,” he admonished. With a groan, she picked up the bent notebook off of his chair. “It seems we have some business to take care of. What’s up, YN?”

“Dee, Jay, and Sarah are making me come here more often, and I hate it!” YN growled.

“Why is that, do you think?” He put her notebook on a side table.

“I’ve been more anxious, and Jensen made fun of my blanket, so I went off. He tried to tell Jamie to go home after they both had invited him to stay with us for my birthday,” she rolled her eyes. “I mean, who does that? He knows me better than anyone, and Jensen goes and kicks him out!” She slumped in her designated seat.

“Okay, one thing at a time. Why have you been more anxious lately? Anything making you nervous these days?”

“No reason,” she sighed and crossed her arms.

“Mhmm.  Did you write about it in here?” He waved the notebook.

“Yeah.”

“We should talk about what’s going on. I’m not ignoring your little attitude you have going on here. Would you like me to read through this and ask you questions as I go?”

“Sure, why not?” She rolled her eyes.

“Get out,” the doctor said passively.

“Huh?”  

“You know my rules. We’re cool in here. I treat you with respect. You treat me with the same. Or you can calm down in the waiting room, and it will take longer. Up to you.”

“Fine, sorry,” she sighed again.

He opened her notebook, starting at the day after their last appointment.

“You said that Danneel stands up for you. That's good. Why does she need to stand up for you?”

“Jensen’s an ass.”

“You know, your word choices have changed. You’re more angry.”

“Keep reading, it only gets more fun,” YN dryly laughed.

“Jensen made fun of the blanket piece you carry with you at my request. Did you tell him I suggested it?”

“Yeah, but we were…”

“Yes…?”

“Screaming at each other. He knows how to bug me! You want to know what really happened? At my birthday party, he decided to be a baby and freak out because I had one tiny little issue. Then, he told Jamie to leave after JENSEN INVITED HIM to stay with us for a few days! I started scratching again! See?” She rolled her sleeves up.

The doctor sighed.

“Screaming is-“ he started.

“Not redeeming. I know.”

“I gave that saying to you for a reason. Say it again.”

“Doc…” she whined.

“Try that again.”

“Screaming is not redeeming,” she growled.

“And what does that mean?” He raised a brow, knowing her response.

“Yelling doesn’t help. Calm talking is the only way to work through something,” YN huffed.

“Exactly. Next time, take a breath. You’re so used to people not really caring what you think. Now Jensen interacts and cares for you, so it takes practice.”

“Okay.” She pulled her sleeves down.

“What? I can see that we aren’t done for today.”

“Just keep reading,” YN said plainly.

She told the doctor about how James came to visit, and Jensen tried to make him leave.

“Jensen and I fought. It was so unfair! He can’t do that after inviting him!”

“I can understand.  So why have you been having more trouble?”

“I don’t know…”

“It’s late June, and about a month ago, you said you would hate it when Jensen went back to work. It’s almost that time, isn’t it?” He inquired.

“No.”

“Why are you fighting me in this? Just tell me.”

“It’s a love/hate relationship, I guess.”

“I have a feeling it has to do with him coming home for his summer break and then going away again. He isn’t deserting you, you know.”

“How in the hell do you know that?” YN stood up and stomped around the room. “Everyone else does!”

“Sit!” The doctor grew frustrated. She saw the confusion on his face. He had never been so abrupt with her, but she had never been so defiant either. YN took a deep breath and walked back to her spot on the couch and put s pillow on her lap.

“You have lived with them for about a year, and Sarah has no plans to move you. You’re doing great with this family. I can see how you would feel nervous, though. You know he isn’t truly leaving you, right?”

“Yeah,” YN sighed. “I know.”

“Why don’t you and Jensen go do something fun before he leaves. Pick something you both like to do, and enjoy it. Remember to communicate. Tell him what you like to do, and he can do the same.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know, bowling, going to the movies, a sporting event.”

“Hmm. Okay.”

————-

“Jensen?” YN walked into Jensen’s office. He looked up from his computer, mouthing lines to himself.

“What’s up, loser?” He laughed.

“Whatever, jackass,” she grinned.

“How can I help you this fine day?” Jensen snickered.

“You wanna play catch? Like, before you go back to Vancouver?”

He tilted his head in confusion, but he told himself to go with it.

“Sure, that sounds fun, but-“ he realized what she was asking him. “You don’t like baseball.”

“Yes, I do. He just made think it was bad. I’m safe, and I trust you,” she offered her foster dad a weak smile.

“Oh, okay. Yeah. Let’s do it. How about tomorrow morning when it’s cool?”

“Perfect!” She ran into his arms while he was still in his office chair. “Thank you!”

“Unnf.” Jensen’s chest absorbed her. “You’re welcome, Princess.” 

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[cobythinks]

Carry On

Guys I made more angst (mostly hurt/comfort tbh) so get ready to be sad and possibly angry. There IS a happy ending! Don’t worry lol.

Summary: A normal night for Roman turns upside-down when an extremely Un-Patton-like Patton turns up at his door. He takes it upon himself to help his friend - no matter what.

Warnings: injuries, mentions of blood, mentions of violence/abuse. Self-deprecation, crying. Some foul language.

Ships: Platonic Royality/Morince. Platonic LAMP. ALL THE PLATONIC. HAHAHAHA.

Anyway, lesgo!

Roman looked up from his sketchbook when a knock echoed through his apartment. He smiled and stood up, tossing his pencil onto the table as he went to answer.

“He- Patton!” he beamed for a split second before he took in the full scene before him. It was, in fact, Patton. But not the Patton Roman was used to seeing. “What happened?” Roman pulled him gently in and closed the door, cupping his bruised face gently in one hand. Patton closed his eyes, stepping forward to lean on Roman’s chest. “Patton?”

“I don't…” Patton shook his head slightly. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay…” Roman’s spirits were falling faster every second he was looking at his friend.

Patton’s face was battered, his glasses were missing, he had a cut lip and a bloody nose that had both scabbed and dried on his face. His arms, without the cat hoodie he’d been so fond of lately, were covered in bruises varying from fresh bright red welts to old yellow rings. Whatever happened tonight, Roman realized with a start, had happened before.

“Oh, Patton…” Roman pulled him close again and gently ran a hand through his hair.

“P-please…” Patton hiccoughed slightly and shook his head.

“Anything, padre.”

“D-don’t tell them I’m here,” Patton whispered. Roman frowned but decided not to ask who Patton was referring to. He’d figure that out once Patton was taken care of and resting. Until then, Roman wasn’t going to focus on anything else.

“Sit down for a moment, alright?” Roman helped Patton sink onto the couch. “I’ll be right back.”

“Kay,” Patton whispered, staring at the wall with a terrifyingly blank expression. Roman hurried to the bathroom and found the first aid kit - thank god Virgil made sure he had a fully stocked one every week - and returned to the living room.

“Is it okay if I clean you up a bit?” Roman asked tentatively, wetting a cloth in the sink a few yards away.

“Sure.” Patton never gave one-word answers to anything, so this only made Roman more concerned. He tried to keep his hands from shaking as he helped Patton clean up, then patched up his split lip.

“Ibuprofen?” Roman offered, shaking a few pellets out into his palm. Patton accepted them, his hands shaking nearly as bad as Romans. He swallowed them dry and had just taken a deep breath when Roman’s phone started ringing.

Roman frowned, turning to the table. Patton suddenly lunged forward to grab his arm, making soft choking noises as he tried to speak.

“Patton…?” Roman turned to him worriedly. Patton just shook his head, face filled with what Roman hated to notice was terror. “What…”

“Don’t.” Patton finally managed to beg him. “Don’t tell them I’m here.”

“Just…” Roman pried himself from Patton’s grip. “Just a second.” He walked to the table and pulled his phone out from a pile of papers. It was Patton’s parents. “It’s your-”

“Don’t!” Patton was near tears now, hands shaking uncontrollably. Roman froze, gaze flicking between his friend and the phone, still ringing. “Please, Roman.”

No. No way. There was no way…

Roman looked at the phone and took a deep breath, declining the call before putting it on silent and tossing it back on the table. When he turned back to Patton, the other was collapsed onto the couch cushions in relief, sobbing.

“Patton…” Roman said next to him and gently played with his hair. “Why…” he stared sadly at the layers of bruises on his arms.

This had been going on… for weeks. Months, maybe. And god, Roman hoped it hadn’t been years. How hadn’t he noticed? Patton was always so happy, cheerful. He was the least violent, least sad person Roman had ever met. Why would this happen to him, why would his own parents do something like this? At least, Roman assumed that was it. Based off of what Patton had managed to tell him, and the fact that they called only minutes after Patton arrived at Roman’s apartment.

Roman thought back, trying to think of a time he could have - should have - noticed Patton was hiding this. The hoodie. Roman nearly felt sick. A year ago, after they graduated, Patton was gifted that cat hoodie for his birthday. A week after, he started wearing it almost constantly. He said he just liked it, that he didn’t mind being too warm, that it made him happy because Logan wasn’t really one for sentimental things and yet gave him a present.

“I’m so sorry.” Roman pressed a gentle kiss to Patton’s forehead, his own eyes filling with tears. “I’m so sorry, Patton. I won’t let them touch you again, I swear.”

It took him just a moment of silence to realize Patton had cried himself to sleep.

Roman jolted awake, then realized he’d fallen asleep next to Patton on the couch. His movement had woken the other, and Patton rubbed his eyes sleepily, not meeting Roman’s eyes.

“Hello?” Someone hammered on the door, revealing why Roman was so suddenly pulled from sleep. Patton jumped, eyes turning to the door wide in fear. They knocked again, and Roman stood up.

“N-no!” Patton stared at him pleadingly. “Roman, it’s…” his voice dropped to a whisper. “It’s them. It had to be. Don’t answer the door.”

“Don’t worry.” Roman soothed softly, glancing at the clock. It was six in the morning.

He felt slightly sick, padding to the door despite Patton’s terrified whispers. Roman peered out the peephole, preparing himself to pretend he wasn’t home when he saw it wasn’t Patton’s parents after all.

“It’s Vee and Logan,” Roman said, relaxing as he turned to look at Patton. Patton’s shoulders fell from where they’d been pulled tightly up near his ears.

“We can hear you, Roman, is Patton there?” Virgil demanded, pounding again.

“Stop that, you’ll break it,” Logan said irritably.

Roman watched Patton, waiting to know if he wanted their friends to join them. Patton stared back for just a moment, while Virgil muttered curses on the other side of the door, before nodding.

“One second.” Roman unlocked the door and took a deep breath before opening it. “What’s up?”

“Patton’s here?” Virgil looked over Roman’s shoulder and sighed in relief. “Thank god. Why didn’t you answer your phone?”

“It’s on silent.” Roman shrugged, letting them in before closing and locking the door again. “Why are you here so early?”

“Why do you think?” Virgil snapped. Roman hated the way Patton winced. He grabbed both Virgil and Logan by the arm and pulled them toward the kitchen half of the living room.

“Calm the hell down, Virgil.” he hissed, glancing warily back to Patton. Virgil frowned.

“Wh-”

“You have no idea what’s going on, do you?”

“Patton’s parents called us last night,” Logan adjusted his glasses. “He ran away, we’ve been helping them look for him.” Roman felt the blood drain from his face, and he was sure both Virgil and Logan saw him go pale. “Roman?”

“Don’t tell them he’s here.” Roman stared into each of their faces for a few seconds. “God, you didn’t tell them he was here did you?”

“No…” Virgil glanced over Roman’s shoulder and his eyes widened. “Patton… what happened to you?”

Roman spun around, putting a gentle arm around Patton’s shoulder as he joined them.

“Patt, do you feel-”

“I’m alright,” Patton said tiredly, rubbing his eyes.

“Oh dear.” Logan seemed to realize what had happened and adjusted his glasses nervously. “Patton… did… did they…”

“I…” Patton stared at the floor before nodding slightly. “Yeah.”

“Holy-” Virgil turned away and punched the fridge. Roman decided not to scold him, as he’d refrained from damaging the drywall this time. “Fuck them, Patton. You don’t need them.”

“Th-they’re my parents!” Patton choked out, close to tears yet again. “I… They… they just want me to be the best I can be, they were just-”

“No.” Logan shook his head. “Patton, they hurt you.”

“But-”

“You don’t have to go back there,” Roman added, hugging Patton a bit tighter. “You’re an adult now, remember?” Patton’s face crumpled and he pressed his head into Romans' shoulder, shaking with sobs.

“Th-the-they… I’m such a di-dis-disappointment…” he choked out, tears soaking Roman’s t-shirt. “I c-can’t get a j-jo-job… I ca-can’t… I can’t d-do any-anything…!”

“That’s not true, Pat,” Virgil whispered softly, rubbing Patton’s back. “You’re amazing.”

“I-I’m n-no-not….” Patton whimpered into Roman’s shoulder. “I-I d-des-deserved…”

“No, you didn’t.” Roman insisted, meeting eyes with Logan, who pursed his lips sadly. “You didn't deserve anything they did to you. You deserve the world, okay? And gosh darn, we’re gonna help you get it.”

“But-”

“You are legally an adult,” Logan said matter of factly. “They can’t do anything if you never return. They cannot file a missing person report without us revealing what they’ve done. They can’t come after you without us protecting you. We can report their abuse, we can file for a restraining order. There is nothing they can do to get you back.”

At his words, Patton all but melted to the floor. Roman and Virgil caught him, holding him gently while he sobbed into Roman’s chest.

“It’ll be alright,” Roman said for what must have been the hundredth time. “I promise.” He’d make it be alright, no matter what.

I might write a second part to this if you guys so desire, so go ahead and comment/reblog or send me an ask and I’ll see what I can do!

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[truthbeetoldmedia]

The 100 6x05 "The Gospel of Josephine" Review

Y’all breathing okay? I think there were a few times when I held my breath this episode and boy howdy! I’m glad The 100 can still give me those moments. Now let’s dive right in to the episode:

Bonjour Josephine!

Last week we got a tiny bite of Josephine. Tonight we got the whole "gâteau opéra”, emphasis on “opera”, for the story of the Primes seems to be a long and bloody Shakespearean affair on an alien moon. Jaux!Clarke (see what I did there?) has barely fired up her silicone memories before she dispatches poor Kaylee with a cheese knife. Apparently Kaylee assisted, or at least didn’t prevent, Josephine’s last host body’s “death”, and she’s been on ice for six years waiting for a new host to be born and grow up. (Which we learn later is because they need a fully developed over-21 adult brain to host an adult’s memory chip, as they overload and kill child hosts. Glad we don’t have to see how they know that.)

Apparently Russell and Simone “jumped line” to bring back Josephine so I’m assuming it’s setup like an organ donor list, except people wait actual decades to talk to their loved ones again. The price of eternal life, eh? Also I can bet there will be some VERY unhappy Primes once they find out Russell and Simone cut line to get their daughter back amongst the living. Josephine seems to be hardened by her long life, and thinks very pragmatically and cold. She has successfully “other-ed” everyone except her loved ones...which is not comforting but also, I can’t help but think the gang would be very happy to have old Clarke back when they get a taste of real cold indifference from Jaux!Clarke.

Her “parents” give her time to adjust and we see Jaux!Clarke painting while dancing to French rap — a sentence I never thought I’d type for a sci-fi show review. She’s of course been given a task: find out how many nightbloods, aka hosts, our Space Popsicles have (since we really can’t call our gang the 100 or the delinquents anymore I’ve decided to call them this, fight me) to keep the Primes from becoming extinct. How hard can it possibly be to pretend to be Clarke right? All I thought was give Bellamy Blake and Jordan Green 10 minutes alone with her and she will figure that out real quick. (Also I was SO pleased to discover I was correct with guessing those two!)  

Space Popsicle™️ Fam finds skeletons in the closet!

Jaux!Clarke meets up with Bellamy, Jordan, Gaia and the rest of the SpacePops™️ Fam and starts acting weird immediately. (Subtle at first but someone forgot to check if she knew Trig ha!) She dodges her first bullet and finds Abby to try and find out how many nightbloods might be on the main ship, only to hear herself called a monster and have Abby compare her book to the Eugenics books of our time. I enjoyed seeing her squirm at Abby’s assessment of her book, though Abby doesn’t have a lot of room to judge...

When Abby questions why her left-handed daughter is writing with her right hand, Jaux!Clarke needs to find a reason to exit stage left and she sees Bellamy and Murphy looking for Jordan and follows them. They find Jordan in the spooky science closet full of skeletons (subtle the Primes are not) and Bellamy is of course in full Dad mode™️, asking Jordan what the heck he’s doing. Jordan delivers quite possibly my favorite line of the season, thus far:   

“What you would’ve done, The you before Praimfaya, anyway. Heart over head. That was always my favorite Bellamy.”

Monty and Harper's son, ladies and gentlemen!! Y’all I nearly jumped to my feet and clapped! Because that Bellamy is also my favorite Bellamy! And this whole season is a little odd feeling to me because Bellamy already feels like he’s been body snatched. Let’s hope this wonderful line delivered with perfection by the fabulous Shannon Kook is a sign we will get some old “I say, screw fear. I’m telling my own damn story” Bellamy Blake back this year! (Can I get an amen!)

Back to the science skeleton closet:

Jaux!Clarke Tries and fails to lure team SpacePops™️ out but Jordan and Gaia keep digging around and they end up watching the first “successful” upload of Josephine by Gabriel and her now very old looking father (og body) Russell. We also learned it took 25 years for them to develop and perfect the AI tech and lord knows how many corpses to get there.

We don’t know yet but I have a feeling we can guess the “old man” is Gabriel and “the Children of Gabriel” are followers against the “Primes ways” and are a result of him regretting playing God to get Josephine back and exiling himself once Josephine and fam got a little to unhinged about “hosts” and “nightblood”, leading others to follow his example. After Jaux!Clarke calls Murphy “John” and says a few other strange things, Bellamy asks to speak to her alone and, I’m just saying, if you watch this scene you see that Bellamy already KNoWS this isn’t “normal” Clarke. He isn’t sure what’s wrong yet, but he knows enough to test her and he can tell she can’t really understand what he’s saying in Trig! So he pulls a signature “Bellamy” move and yanks her back by the throat and starts asking questions because he’s now officially in panic mode —

BUT alas! She had a syringe of that lovely paralytic on hand just in case and the last thing we see in this scene is the horrible realization in Bellamy’s eyes as he lies helplessly paralyzed on the ground: there is a cold stranger behind his best friend’s beautiful blue eyes...and he cannot process his fear and loss fast enough. Welcome back heart over head Bellamy, we’ve missed you!!

Cut to Jaux!Clarke finding Murphy in the bar and revealing her true identity and confessing “Clarke is dead. My parents killed her” (listen I don’t buy it kids) and offering our favorite morally questionable cockroach something he might not be able to pass up: eternal life. Given his recent brush with death and sudden fear of hell….oh boy! It’s gonna take him a minute to realize he should help his friends, I just hope he realizes that before he’s made a full deal with the devil.

Diyoza and the Brat

This pair is a surprising team up, but if I have to suffer through Octavia’s “redemption” they couldn’t have picked a better reward than my favorite Season 5 addition (besides sweet Shaw! I’m still bitter about that guys) DIYOZA! Sassy, amazing fighter, the universe’s longest known pregnant lady. I could watch an entire show about her. (Also Ivana Milicevic is a dream in this role.) She’s the gift that keeps on giving, cool as a cucumber while stuck in space quicksand as Octavia is about to go under because she cannot be still for one second. Probably because if Octavia’s quiet she’ll think and with that comes dark thoughts: how she failed as a leader, how she was willing to abuse, torture and maybe even kill her brother, how her brother, the one person who she thought would always love her through her greatest faults, finally couldn’t take anymore and rejected her. She doesn’t have anything left to lose. Rock bottom meet Octavia Blake, Octavia Blake meet rock bottom.

Now I know I sound harsh but after Season 4 I was beyond seeing her as anything but a villain. I know she is on her way to redemption, but I’m glad they are giving her the long way through the dirt and mud, letting her soak in the cage of her own making a while. And giving us the wonderful Diyoza to lighten the mood. I am all for unsuspecting road trip buddies in shows (Arya and the Hound anyone?) but unfortunately so far all Octavia’s done is try to murder people, throw tantrums, and sulk. Oh well, at least Diyoza is getting in some practice for when she finally gets to have her 200-year-old baby! Really though bless her heart, she deserves some kind of sainthood for this.

Mount Weather + City of Light + Commander worship, shaken not stirred

I actually dig the intersecting of all the “bad guy” storylines into one big villain origin story wearing Clarke’s face. If nothing else it’s a poetic rehash of all the previous seasons, but refreshing enough to not seem stale...for the most part. I grow tired of the Flame/commander story and miss the more simple “teens surviving the unknown my learning to depend and care for each other” story of the first few seasons. BUT considering Season 5’s underwhelming last half, if there is one thing I can say about Season 6 of The 100...it’s not boring! And for a show that sometimes paces the plot too fast I was actually okay with that this time around! I did not want it to take three episodes for our fave family of 150 year old space popsicles to discover Clarke is “dead”. Also I am so glad it was the magic duo of Bellamy and Jordan that made the realization first.

Final thoughts

Eliza Taylor has grown so much as an actress over the seasons! She looks like she had so much fun playing Jaux!Clarke and she gave her such a different “spirit” than our usual worried and sometimes snarky but mostly serious Clarke Griffin. Just the way her eyes dance lets you know it’s not “real Clarke”.

I neglected to mention the importance of Jordan knowing “Delilah” before her change to Priya VII, so his spidey senses also go off around Clarke because he knows what a person who just got body snatched acts like! When he took “Delilah” the flowers I was like my poor son.

This episode was great because the focus was tighter and had fewer characters to keep up with! (Listen I love ensemble casts but they have not given Raven a strong independent storyline since Season 4, and I love Emori but she doesn’t really have a lot to do at the moment either, as for Echo...why she was made a main character when Harper was right there all those seasons? I’ll never know.) All that to say, I like when they break up the cast a bit and just focus on a few at a time to really get that interpersonal development between characters. That used to be the bread and butter of this show. Don’t get me wrong, I still love The 100 and find it unique and fun and twisty and exhilarating and at times beautifully heartbreaking.

(Episodes 1x05, 1x07, 1x13, 2x15, 2x16, 4x13 and 5x13 are perfect examples of this.)

But I do yearn for those slower, deeper days of, say, a boy and a girl grappling with the moral quandary of torturing a stranger tied up in the cockpit of a crashed spaceship to save a dying friend. Sometimes bigger and shiner isn’t always better. But no matter how this season goes, The 100 is still one of my favorite TV shows ever, and deserves a spot up there with a lot of other great sci-fi dramas of the past two decades.

As of now all I need to know is: where the heck is Bellamy Blake and is he okay?!

Gina’s episode rating: 🐝🐝🐝🐝

The 100 airs Tuesdays at 9/8c on the CW.

[selenelavellan]

Elder God Tattoos

(based loosely on this post and Feys and my tags on it.)

Dirthamen, Falon’din, Glory, Squish, and Vena are @feynites​

Ana(mentioned) is @lycheemilkart​s

TW for mentioned Abuse, Blood, and vague allusions to off-screen rape

Selene takes a deep breath, staring at the golden room number in front of her.

She's been in this buildings hallway for too long, she thinks. Security will be here soon, and then it's all over for her.

Her tattoos sting on her skin; Des's burns and tingles on her thigh, imbued with his magic to help her complete her task, while Dirthamen's is still tender and healing where he had placed it on her back.

Selene isn't sure what to expect on the other side of the apartment door.

Dirthamen had made vague mentions of mistreatment, of powers being taken and misused and onslaughts of verbal abuse. Some small part of her is still hoping she can just talk to the guy though. That she can just explain 'hey, you're doing a shitty job with your god, let's just get your tattoo removed and everything can go back to normal, and I won't have to kill you under the orders of my own god'.

Well.

Her first god, anyways. Guess she's 'high priestess'-ing for two now.

Like Des wasn't enough of a headache on his own.

They had warned her, before she left. Of tricks and violence and a thirst for blood that ran so deeply it had nearly corrupted Dirthamen. She knew that part, of course; had accepted the bond and the contract strictly to save him, to give him an anchor that hadn't conflicted so violently with his own so that he could survive the terrible things Falon'din was doing with his name, his power and his essence.

Selene had hoped, right up until she opened the door, that they were wrong. That Falon'din was the sort of man who could be reasoned with, could be spoken back down from his pedestal, could be convinced to come to a peaceful resolution.

But as the door clicks open beneath her touch, swinging open silently and revealing the goings on inside, she realizes the futility of her hopes.

She sees the golden hair, and the broken blue eyes, and the bloodied skin, and she knows.

She knows instantly, exactly what sort of a man Falon'din is.

“Who are-”

He never finishes the sentence.

Selenes own magics rise, elevated and escalated from her contract with Des as the power he had gifted to her courses through her veins and out through the palm of her hand, a blinding white fury of flames that engulfs him in an instant. She feels him pull at Dirthamen, tries to claw his way into his own contract-and it only requires a thought for her to sever it. To deem him unworthy of the bond, and to strip it from him. His mouth opens and his soul screams and for a moment she feels dangerously vindicated. Judgment and fury and the power to punish, the power to save, her power. 

Her domain.

No more victims.

The light fades and the remaining ash falls to the ground.

Two blue eyes look up at her from beneath long golden locks. Silent and still and radiating fight or flight.

Selene sighs, and holds out a hand to help them stand.

“I...m sorry?” She tries, not very good at the consolation thing these days. “If you loved him or something. I know it can be a shock but-”

“I hated him.” They interrupt with a sureness that nearly startles her.

Well. That makes things easier, right?

“Cool,” Selene says with a slow nod. “Good. I guess uh...I guess I don't really need to worry about you like...reporting this, then? Like to cops, or templars, or anything like that?”

“And tell them what? An angel pulled me out of hell?” They snort, tears falling down the sides of their face that they don't seem to notice.

That’s shock, she thinks. Probably not a great sign.

“I'm not-Don't say that. That's not-I mean I definitely just killed a guy, please don't-don't say that.”

“He was a monster.”

“Yeah, that's what I heard,” Selene admits. “But like-probably murder isn't a great thing to idolize? Definitely a last resort.”

“Says the murderer.”

Selene winces. “I'm not-listen, I had strict orders from not one but two gods to do this, it's not my fault-You ever argued with a god? They don't have to stop for breath, ok? And there were two of them, I was double teamed, and then they distracted me with their-” She stops herself before she gets into any details about the previous nights events, clearing her throat and staring up at the ceiling for a moment.

She finally lets go of their hand.

“Do you have somewhere you can go?” She tries instead.

They stare out the window for a minute, before their face splits into a grin.

There's still blood on their teeth.

“Yeah,” They nearly laugh. “Yeah, I do.”

“Great,” Selene says with great relief; the last thing she needs right now is another house guest. “You should go there.”

“Where will you go?” They ask.

Selene blinks, pointing vaguely over her shoulder. “I was uh...I was just gonna go back home.”

“How can I find you again?”

Selene scrunches up her face, head shaking fervently  “You shouldn't. Like you really-it'd be better if you just...didn't.”

“You saved my life.”

“That's a little dramatic...” Selene trails off, watching the blood trickle down the inside of their leg and trying to force herself to stay in the moment.

Don't go back there. Don't go back that way, back where they can't follow.

She runs her fingers through her hair, and curses under her breath while they continue staring at her in anticipation. There's a flyer for some local band sitting on the kitchen counter, and Selene scribbles her number on the back of it before holding it out for them.

They reach out, and she snags it back before they can grab it, holding their eye contact for a solid minute before finally warning.

“Don't need me. But if things get really bad...call this number.”

She lowers it back down, and lets them take the paper from her this time.

Selene gestures towards the door with her head. “You go out first. I'm going to do a little clean up in here.”

The elf holds her gaze for a moment before nodding and heading for the door. Their hand is still on the doorknob when they finally speak again.

“He deserved it, you know. He deserved worse.”

Selene bites down on her bottom lip, staring down at the pile of ash.

“Go.”

–

News of the apartment fire is playing on low volume over Selenes television while she drinks her coffee. The fire she had used to burn any lingering evidence didn't spread to the other apartments, and her wards had been generic enough they seem to be assuming they were placed there by the apartment managers.

Nothing to link her to it.

Nothing but some golden haired elf wandering somewhere with her number in their pocket.

“You did well,” Des purrs, appearing on the arm of her couch. His tail curls over her thigh, siphoning his lingering magics back into himself while he watches the news report play.

“Thanks,” She mutters quietly, still unnerved and uncomfortable from the scene she had walked in on earlier.

“I am sorry for the trouble it caused,” Dirthamen adds, appearing beside her to lean his head on her shoulder.

“It saved someone, so...it worked out. They seemed to agree it was for the best, anyways.”

“You let them go?” Des perks. “I thought you were all worried about being caught by templars and such. Someone who could identify you seems rather...messy.”

“It's fine,” Selene says without further explanation.

They know, anyways. They can pry through her memories at will, prod at her magics, tie her up in whatever matters they see fit. There's no secrets between them; there's no room for it. She's the only thing tethering them to this world right now, the only one left who believes in them.

The only one left who loves them.

But they love her in return, and she enjoys the knowledge and the lost stories, and the companionship they give to her so freely.

“We need a way to generate an income,” She muses aloud. “Something less obvious than 'local elven woman wins lottery for third time in three years'.”

“You certainly weren't complaining before,” Des mumbles.

Selene glances up at him and frowns. “What sort of skills do you have?”

“I am a God,” Des preens. “I have all of them.”

“Uh-huh,” Selene deadpans “What does the little squiggly red line under words on the computer mean when I'm typing?”

Des purses his lips. “It means mortals have a different definition of 'skill' than I do.”

“Uh-huh,” Selene repeats, taking a small sip of her drink.

Selene considers her options, leaning her head on top of Dirthamens. What could she do that would help? What could she do that would make a difference, could actually improve things?

She looks down at Dirthamen, and glances back up at Des.

“...Are there other gods like you that are looking for people to bond to?”

–

It takes the better part of six months to finally open the shop.

Elder God Tattoos.

Not exactly subtle, but...it works.

Mostly she just does regular tattoos; flowers, stars, dolphins. Non-enchantment work. Builds up her portfolio, and keeps an ear out for good people having bad times. She's very careful about her selections; tries her best to make sure the people match the gods, that they're compatible, that there's no risk of corruption on either side.

The first year she's open, she only does the one.

A young elven woman comes in, suffering from the loss of a recent close family member and hoping to bring some semblance of order and joy back to her life. Selene has Venavismi follow her for a week, to see if he would be interested.

“I like her,” Vena grins, twirling around her ceiling and bursting with bright blooms of flowers and fruits. “Little Banana-Ana.”

Selene gives the woman his tattoo, after explaining the situation.

She leaves out the part where 'sometimes you might have to kill somebody for him', in hopes that maybe she'll just be a little luckier than she was.

But it has been six months now, and they have adjusted to each other wonderfully.

Selene nearly breathes a sigh of relief, before a too familiar elf wanders into her shop.

“I heard they do good work here, and I was-” Squish, a nice young woman that Des favors is saying before the elf who had walked in beside her freezes.

Ah, shit.

“You're-”

“Welcome to Elder God Tattoos!” Selene interrupts before they can say anything. “Here for another browse through Squish? Or have you finally decided on a design?”

“Still browsing, though I think I've narrowed it down,” Squish grins. “I brought my signif Glory with me. Thought they'd get a kick out of the place, and I wanted their input. You don't mind, do you Selene?”

“Nope,” She lies, smiling right back and doing her best to pretend she isn't panicking internally. “Take your time.”

Squish plops down onto the plush waiting rooms couches and starts browsing through the thick binders of past work Selene has done, and Selene excuses herself to the back room.

And that's when she finally lets herself panic.

Dirthamen feels it first, popping into being in front of her, todays talons resting carefully on her shoulders.

“What is the matter?”

“The elf-the elf is here. The one who knows. The one who saw me.”

“...Lots of elves have seen you.”

“The one who saw me obliterate Falon'din,” Selene hisses. “Shit, shit, we should've moved before we did this, I'm such an idiot, shit-”

“It is alright,” Dirthamen assures her, pulling her into him as his arms and wings wrap around her. The feathers covering his chest should be uncomfortable, probably, but mostly they just smell like him and it's reassuring. Grounding. Keeps her in the moment.

“I've got this,” Des says, appearing in a solid form behind her and striding into the waiting room before she can escape Dirthamen's grip to stop him.

Selene struggles, but Dirthamen holds her tighter until she relents. Nothing is exploding and no one is yelling so that's...that's good, right? That's a good sign? Things aren't a total disaster in her shop right now, maybe?

Des comes back into the room a few minutes later, Squish and Glory in tow.

“They're cool,” He announces.

Selene lets out a loud groan.

“You're the one who killed Falon'din?” Squish asks, and Selene has to resist the urge to glare at Des or Glory, still bound up in Dirthamens arms as she squirms enough to be able to see them.

“I...that's a complicated question, really. Were you...friends?”

Squish snorts. “No.”

Selene nods silently.

It's awkward.

Des apparently explained the whole situation to them, which Selene could really have lived without.

But they start coming by more often after that.

Like friends might.

They bring in clients and potential clients, apparently running some sort of elven aid/vengeance program on their own that Selene figures she's better off not knowing the details about. She runs a strange business of her own, finding followers for Gods that are fading from existence. It makes her grateful for her own situation, in a strange way.

Grateful for that drunken night when she ended up with Des. Grateful that they found Dirthamen when they did, and grateful that he wanted to stick around.

And when she crawls into bed at night and feels them wrap around her, she finally feels calm. Happy.

They make the moments worth being present for.

[crashdevlin]

To Hell and Back 2- Assignment

To Hell and Back Masterlist

Author’s Note: Originally posted to ao3 (This is an edited and improved version). This is an AU of my story ‘Marion’ and is just as epic as that series. 

Summary: Marion goes on a mission for her boss.

Pairing(s): Crowley x Marion-ish

Word Count: 3148

Chapter Warnings: smoking, Dean’s isn’t the best brother, angst, mentions of child abuse, demon deals

Marion put the key in the door and shuffled into the motel room, dropping the bag at the end of the bed and heading for the bathroom as she always did when she first entered a motel room. She'd insisted on being given her own room when she was 17. It was partly for safety, since the monsters always seemed to find John and the boys' room, and partly for feminine privacy, and partly for him.

"What do you want, Crowley?" She asked, walking out of the bathroom and dropping to the bed.

"Whatever happened to your manners? I know I taught you better than that." A deep, gravelly accent came from the chair next to the television.

"Yeah, but then my daddy came in and fucked it all up." She pulled the knot out of her bootlaces and toed her boots off. "The question hasn't changed, Crowley."

"You know, it's days like this I regret pulling you outta the way of that Chevy." He said, standing and adjusting his suit jacket.

"Yeah." Marion threw her boots at the corner of the room and turned her eyes on the demon. "But then you remember that you came here for a reason and you give me my damn assignment."

Crowley handed her a small piece of paper. "Name's Devon McIntyre. He sold it fer money, so you can do this one without the guilt."

"Fine." She snatched the paper and pocketed it. "You can go, now."

"You know, there was a time when you enjoyed my company. What happened?"

She looked away from him. "I figured out who you really are and what you do to the people I mark."

"They do it to themselves. They know what they're signing up for." He tried to catch her eyes, but she just let her dyed brunette hair hang in a protective curtain in front of her face, so he just rolled his eyes. "I have never lied to anyone about what Hell has in store for them. And I told you what I was back when you were too young and dumb to hate me for it."

She tucked her hair behind her ear and glared at him. "I'm a hunter, you ass! A demon killed my mother!"

"And a demon saved you!" Crowley shouted. "So many times that I would be bisected if the boys downstairs knew about it." He stepped forward. "I pulled you out of the path of that truck when you were four. I ripped the head off that vampire when you were twelve. I'm the one who risked my entire reputation to claim a damn hunter's daughter so that no other demons would lay a bloody pinkie on you, and I tried to convince you to back off when you insisted on helping me when you were sixteen."

He gave a huffing breath. "You wanna back out now? Sorry, it doesn't work that way, Lilith has you on contract sealed with a sodding kiss and as long as she's around, you work for us! Not my fault, you moody little-" Crowley took a deep breath and sighed, letting his anger go. "Just go mark the wealthy little arsehole so my dogs can find him."

Marion nodded, looking away again. "We're on a hunt. It may be a few days." She pulled the paper out of her pocket and set it on the side table.

If she'd been looking at him she would've seen him open his mouth like he'd wanted to say something else, but he just nodded and disappeared.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Marion was halfway through her fourth cigarette in a chain when her phone went off. She grabbed it off the side table and flipped it open. "It's a ghost." Dean gave no greeting. "A woman named Constance Welch threw herself off the bridge where we stopped earlier. We're gonna head down there, later, see if we can draw her out."

"Okay. Lemme know how it goes. How you lookin' for salt rounds?"

"We're good." There was a moment of silence. "You want in on this?" His tone told her he wanted her to say 'no'.

"No. You get to gank ghosts with me all the time. Spend some time with Sammy. Who knows when you'll have an opportunity for Sam bonding again?"

"Yeah. Sounds good. We'll call."

"Right." Marion said, disbelieving as she flipped her phone closed. She ran her hand down her face and sighed, pulling her bag off the ground and dropping it to the bed. She pulled out her slinky red dress and her strappy black heels from the very bottom of her duffel and slipped them onto her body. After pulling her hair into a messy up-do and pasting her face with bright red lipstick and brown eye shadow, she walked out of her motel room and headed to a luxury car with a demon in the driver's seat. The door opened without being touched and she slipped into the back next to Crowley, whose eyes slid down her profile without hesitation. "If you mention how well I fill out this dress, I will stab you in the eye with my branding iron." She didn't look his way as she spoke, but noticed his acceptance of her terms.

He nodded and signaled for the driver to head toward their destination. The Lincoln was silent through the entire ride, Marion biting the inside of her lip and thinking back to simpler times as they drove. When they pulled up in front of the mansion, she easily slipped out and up to the door and rang the bell. She smiled for the camera near the buzzer. "Who are you?" A voice came through the speaker.

"I'm a gift... from Mr. Crowley." She responded, sweetly, but inside she was grimacing at the sentence.

The door opened, just slightly, to reveal an attractive, well-dressed brunette man, eyeing her warily. "Crowley?"

"Mr. Crowley would like me to remind you that he kept his end of the deal. He made you wealthy and thus appealing to women. May I?" She pushed past him into the mansion, across the lines of the Devil's Trap painted on the floor by the door. "Mr. Crowley would also like me to tell you that he's aware that you are planning to run from him, that you think you can use the resources he awarded you to hide from him. He wants me to tell you that he didn't get to be King of the Crossroads by letting greedy little pissants squirm out of their contracts, and you won't be the first, or last, to try." She said, before grabbing his shirt and jabbing her branding iron into his left bicep. She let him go and stepped back to allow him to examine the burn mark.

"What the fuck was that?!"

“A homing beacon for Crowley’s hounds. No matter where you run, they’ll find you. Thanks for playing.” She said, starting to go. Devon grabbed her hand and tried to pull her back. She twisted, ax-kicked him in the head and grabbed his throat. “You have a week, you miserable prick. You have a week to do something worthwhile. Do not make me cut out all that potential by killing you early.” She threatened, tossing him to the ground and walking out of the Devil’s Trap on the way out.

“You aren’t a demon?”

“No. But I’m sure he’ll turn me into one, eventually.” She said, before shutting the door on him.

“You know that’s not going to happen.” Crowley said, opening the car door for her.

“What?”

“That’s not your deal. You didn’t sign away your soul, you signed away your work. Just like a real job, it only seems like it’s crushing your soul.” Crowley said, as the car pulled away from the mansion.

“I’m helping demons, Crowley. Helping you damn souls to unbelievable torment. That doesn’t sound like something that’s gonna get me into Heaven.”

“Well, there’s always the Void.”

“Yeah. Being a ghost. That sounds peachy.” She said, sarcastically.

“Look, you knew. You asked for this. I begged you not to kiss me, but you thought you knew what you were doing.”

“I was sixteen!” She exclaimed. “I just wanted my father to stop hitting me.”

“And it worked, right? He hasn’t hit you in a decade.” Crowley reasoned, trying to block out the thought that he’d have already taken her to Hell, if she’d signed a normal contract.

“It doesn’t change it, Crowley. It doesn’t change the fact that I traded my well-being for… this. I thought I knew what I was doing and I thought I was grown enough to make that decision, but I wasn’t.”

There was silence in the car for half an hour as she looked out the window. “Well, if you do end up in Hell, Marion, I’ll make sure they go easy on you. That’s the best I got. See you next time.” Crowley said as they pulled into the motel.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Crowley stared out the window of his mansion, lost in thought. He knew what was being planned for the Winchesters, what Lilith and Azazel were going to do to bring Lucifer home. He felt almost bad for Marion. He'd known her since she was a wee thing and if there were a Winchester who deserved to be kept out of all the bullshit Hell had planned, it was Marion.

Sometimes he really did think he should have let her die when she was four. That way she never would have had to deal with Mary Winchester's death or the way John dealt with the pain of her demise. She never would have had to deal with demons and monsters, she never would have had to deal with Crowley, himself. Life would've been much sweeter for his Marion if she'd just died at four years old.

Crowley grimaced at the term. His Marion. It seemed like it might be an endearment, but it was the truth. She signed herself over to him, kissed her life away. He could keep her like a slave, but he chose not to. Ungrateful cunt.

He turned to demon lounging on his couch, wearing a short, well-dressed blonde lawyer as a vessel. "You. Go change your meat suit. I've got some tensions I need to relieve."

"Anything in particular, sir?"

Crowley sighed. "Tall, tan, bottle brunette, green eyes, and leather. Go more Roadhouse and less Mistress with it."

She smiled. "Yes sir." It took her half an hour to reappear, in a vessel that almost matched his request. "I could only find a blue-eyed one."

"It'll have to do." Crowley growled, twisting a hand into her hair and crashing his mouth into hers.

Two hours later, he looked down at the surrogate he'd taken his frustrations out on. Covered in bruises, bleeding cuts and cum, he could almost imagine this biker chick in her forties was Marion. The illusion was broken as soon as he thought about it, though, so he rolled away from her and snapped to replace his clothing. "Get your old meat suit back. She's good fer business. But... keep track of this one."

"Yes, sir."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Marion was pulling her boots on the next morning when a knock came to her motel room door. She opened it and smiled tightly at Dean. "Dad had a room here, too. Figured out we're dealing with a Woman in White. He hasn't been here in a few days. You hungry?"

"Yeah, actually." She grabbed her black fleece jacket and walking out the door with him. She noticed the police presence right before Dean did. He looked over, saw the police car parked by the clerk's office who was talking to the deputies. When the clerk pointed at Dean and Marion, Dean pulled out his cell, calling Sam as the deputies started to approach them.

"Dude, five-oh. Take off." There was a second of silence. "Uh, they kinda spotted us. Go find Dad." Dean flipped the phone closed and turned to the deputies with a grin. "Problem, officers?"

"Did we do something?" Marion asked, innocently.

"Where's your partner?" The deputy asked, ignoring Marion.

"Partner? What, what partner?” Dean asked. Marion put on her best clueless face.

Deputy Jaffe, according to his name tag, glanced over his shoulder and jerked his thumb towards the motel room. Deputy Hein headed over there. Dean fidgeted. “So, fake US Marshal. Fake credit cards. You got anything that’s real?” Jaffe asked.

“My boobs.” Dean replied, with a smirk.

Marion rolled her eyes and put her hands behind her head as the cop slammed Dean into the hood. “The best thing you can do, stud, is keep your mouth closed. You obviously need a refresher on your ‘right to remain silent’.”

“Like I’m gonna take legal advice from a prostitute.” Dean snapped, thankfully catching on to her train of thought.

The cop turned her around and examined her. He seemed a bit skeptical about her status as a working girl. The jeans, boots and fleece jacket weren’t exactly street-walker clothes. “You don’t know each other?”

“Look, ask the clerk. Paid in cash. I was just looking for a place to bed down. I work from home… even when I don’t have a home, if you get my drift. I’m not saying I’m a sex worker, but… I’ve never met this guy before this morning. He was gonna buy me breakfast and we were gonna head back to my room.”

The deputy looked between the two of them, then pulled her handcuffs off. “It’s your lucky day. This guy is a much bigger fish than you. But if I find you soliciting in my town again, I’ll personally escort you downtown.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” She said. She leaned over next to Dean, who was bent over the back of the cop car. “Better luck next time, handsome.” She whispered before walking off toward her room. Sam was sitting on her bed.

“How’d you manage?” He asked.

“I convinced them I was a whore. They let me go because they didn’t have any proof that I know Dean. This is one time I’m glad I stayed in the car.” She said, grabbing her bag off the floor and rifling through it. “So, where to?”

“Uh, Joseph Welch. He’s the husband of the woman in white. That’s where Dad would’ve gone.”

“Okay.” She sighed. “I don’t even know what I’m looking for in here.” She threw her hands up and headed toward the window. She watched as the police car pulled away with Dean in the back. She pulled Dean’s keys out of her jacket pocket and nodded toward Sam.

“When did he hand over his keys?” Sam asked.

“I picked them off him when I said goodbye.” She said, heading out the door and into the parking lot.

Marion tossed the keys at Sam. “If I move the seat forward, Dean will kill me.” She said, getting in on the passenger side.

“You… you got really good at this stuff.” Sam said, sliding in behind the steering wheel.

“I was never bad at it, Sammy. I just didn’t have a lot of opportunity to show my skill, when you were around.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam pulled into the driveway of a house with an overgrown yard. Marion got out and walked up to the door in front of Sam. She knocked with a closed fist. An older man opened and looked out at them. “Hi. Are you Joseph Welch?” Sam spoke up.

“Yeah.” Joseph responded, walking out of his doorway and shutting the door behind him.

“Hi. We just need to ask you a few questions.” Marion said, with a smile.

“Have you seen this man?” Sam asked, handing Joseph a picture of John and the 2 boys. Marion, of course, was not in the picture.

“Yeah. He was a little older, but that’s him.” Joseph said, handing the photo back to Sam. “He came by three or four days ago. Said he was a reporter.”

“That’s right. We’re all working on a story together.” Sam replied, as they walked into the junk that was Joseph Welch’s front yard.

“Well, I don’t know what the hell kinda story you’re working on. The questions he asked me?”

“About your wife Constance?” Marion asked.

“He asked me where she was buried.”

"And where is that again?" Sam leaned over the shorter man as he spoke.

“What, I gotta go through this twice?”

“It’s fact-checking. If you don’t mind.” Marion said.

“In a plot. Behind my old place over on Breckenridge.” Joseph answered.

“And, why did you move?” Sam asked.

“I’m not gonna live in the house where my children died.” Joseph responded.

Sam and Marion stopped walking. Joseph followed suit. “Mr. Welch, did you ever marry again?” Sam asked.

“No way. Constance, she was the love of my life. Prettiest woman I ever known.”

“So, you had a happy marriage?”

Joseph hesitated before responding. Bingo. “Definitely.”

“Well, that should do it. Thanks for your time.” Sam said with a smile. Marion stood her ground while Joseph and Sam started walking in their separate directions. Sam waited a moment, then look back at Joseph. “Mr. Welch, did you ever hear of a woman in white?”

Joseph turned back around. “A what?”

“A woman in white. Or sometimes ’Weeping Woman’?” Marion said. The man just stared.

“It’s a ghost story. Well, it’s more of a phenomenon, really.” Sam started to walk back to the man. “Um, they’re spirits. They’ve been sighted for hundreds of years, dozens of places. In Hawaii, Mexico, lately in Arizona, Indiana. All these are different women.” Sam stopped in front of Joseph Welch. “You understand. But all share the same story.”

“I don’t care much for nonsense.” Joseph said, starting to head toward his house again.

“See, when they were alive, their husbands were unfaithful to them. And these women, basically suffering from temporary insanity, murdered their children.” Sam seemed to hit the right button because Joseph turned around. “Then, once they realized what they had done, they took their own lives. So, now their spirits are cursed, walking back roads, waterways. And if they find an unfaithful man, they kill him. And that man is never seen again.”

“You think...you think that has something to do with...Constance? You smartass!”

“You tell us.”

“I mean, maybe... maybe I made some mistakes. But no matter what I did, Constance, she never would have killed her own children. Now, you get the hell out of here! And you don't come back!” Joseph’s face shook in anger and grief, then he turned away. Marion and Sam walked back to the Impala.

“Guess you got pretty good at this stuff, too.” Marion said.

“Thanks. Now, let’s spring the idiot and we can burn Constance’s bones and get back to Paolo Alto.” Sam said, pulling out his cell phone.

Supernatural Tag- @letsby

[yevonscribbles]

Pride

Re-upload with corrections! Warning some suggestive language and mention of past abuse. Have a happy new year!!!

*****

The large metropolis of Zootopia had many reasons to celebrate during the summer months, and today the variety of mammals of every age and species celebrated Pride. Officer Judy Hopps had taken a much needed day off to enjoy the festivities and also force her favorite foxes to join her for the parade. “Ohhhh!! look at those floats!!!” The  short, grey rabbit bounced up and down enthusiastically pointing towards the large parade of rainbow colored floats in front of them, while her amethyst eyes sparkling in amazement.

“Yes, yes Carrots! I see the rainbow covered float.  We have only seen 20 other one’s so far…” Officer Nick Wilde grumbled to himself as he adjusted his sunglasses. The slender red fox felt agitated with all the rainbows and glitter. Sure he was bisexual, but he had never really been out and proud about it. The former hustler used to spend Pride in Zootopia selling popsicles to parade goers with his former sidekick Finnick. He felt a paw wrap around his own.

“Aw, don’t be like dat babe. If ya want, we can find someplace quiet away from the crowd?” The pudgy baker Gideon Grey held his boyfriends paw and gave him a weak smile. The pair of foxes had only started dating a few months ago, but Judy had insisted them come celebrate Pride together. Much of the baker’s life had been spent in the closet and it had taken a great deal of courage for the baker to come out to his business partner’s, Stu and Bonnie Hopps. During the ordeal, he had asked Judy for help over the phone while Nick was visiting. Nick had provided some much needed advice about coming out. Inadvertently, the pair had formed a bond. A week later, she had set the boys on a date and hoped for the best. A few more meetings and dates, with a few hundred text messages later, they were officially an item. They didn't tell a lot of people because both mammals were very private and Judy considered herself lucky she got to see their relationship grow.

“Come on you two!  It’s Pride!!!” Judy shot her foxy duo a with a deadly glare. “Be happy!  Get excited!  Dance!  Cheese and crackers you two look miserable.”

Nick let out a sigh, giving his partner’s paw a small squeeze. “Judy we are going to go get a drink. I see a coffee shop up a few blocks. Do you want to come or continue enjoying this sequined nightmare?”

“Fine, fine, let’s go…” Judy crossed her arms as she followed the foxes through the crowd. Reaching the coffee shop, Gideon held the door for his companions. Judging from his boyfriend’s tense shoulders and furrowed brow, the fox officer was not having a good time. Gideon had an idea of what he could do to cheer Nick up.

“Ah tell you what love, ah am good without a drink. You two go ahead and I will catch up in a few!” Gideon waved off the fox and rabbit and disappeared into the crowd. Nick returned the wave with a frown and went to the counter to order some drinks with Judy. Once seated in a oversized booth next to the ongoing parade, Judy gave Nick a quick once over and folder her ears back.

“Ok. Spill it Slick. Why are you so angry?” Judy tapped her finger on the table in annoyance. She had wanted this day off to be fun and full of laughs but instead, one of her friends had disappeared into the crowd and the other was visibly upset. The fox may even be angry with the whole world, not just his rabbit partner.

Nick tensed his shoulders and turned his attention to the celebration outside. “Carrots did you even think before dragging Giddy and I out here?” The fox removed his sunglasses and met his friends gaze. “We don’t belong here Judy… Yes, Gideon and I are together, and we are gay, but we are not very public mammals…”

“I don’t follow Nick.  I thought Pride was for everyone… Is it because your both predators?  Cheese and crackers Nick, there is a lion outside in a corset, six inch heels and they are having a great time! I’m not even gay and I am having fun! No one cares that you’re both foxes! Live a little!” The rabbit officer said, throwing her arms up in annoyance.

“We care Judy…” Nick placed his paws together on the table, giving Judy a look he rarely used, a look of utter defeat. “Gid and I are very happy together, but our happiness doesn’t need to be known by every mammal in creation. Only a pawful of mammals know that I am bi.  Gideon is the same way.  Why give the world one more reason to hate us?” The fox started to fight back, the tears he felt welling in his eyes. A few years away from the hustler and the ‘don’t let them know that they get to you,’ lifestyle had help Nick express his emotions in a healthier way. “Fluff, do you have any idea what Gideon has gone through? His Dad beat him almost daily for years because he thought his pup was gay! Why do you think he lashed out in his youth? He told me  that without his therapist he probably would have never come to terms with his sexuality and would still be a self-loathing closet case.” Nick felt warmth on his cheeks and his vision began to blur. The officer rarely cried, but here he was-crying next to a big gay parade.

“Nick…” He felt the small weight of Judy’s paw rest on his. “Gideon told me everything… Why do you think I was so excited the two of you bonded?  You both have dealt with so much and you both deserve happiness.”

“Ah...Am I interrupting something?” Gideon gave the pair a worried look. In his paws he held a plastic bag. Nick took a moment to quickly wipe away any tears that were lingering in his eyes, last thing he needed was his Pumpkin fussing over him.

“No babe, everything is fine…” The thin fox gave a smile to his partner. “What’s with the bag Gid?”

With a puff of his chest and a perk of the ears, Gideon gave a large grin before digging into the bag he was holding. The larger fox pulled out a pair of shirts then presented them to the officers in front of him. “Ah thought we could use a change of clothes for the parade, maybe get us in a more ‘Pride,’ set of mind.”

Nick unrolled the shirt that was handed to him and let out a warm chuckle. The shirt was a gaudy neon shirt in purple, pink, and blue; the bisexual pride flag colors. He turned the shirt toward Judy so she could see. The rabbit held her own shirt out and gave the baker a glare. On her plain white tee shirt bold purple glitter letters spelled out “Butch.” The fox officer let out a hearty round of laughter at the rabbits expense. Finally, the baker fox pulled out his own shirt and showed his friends. His own shirt was a rainbow tee with the words “Kinda Gay,” spelled out in block letters. Nick rolled his eyes at the shirt.

“You did good Pumpkin, thank you.” Nick gave Gideon a quick nuzzle, which caused Judy to let out a squee. It was a rare sight to see the foxes engage in some intimacy. With a ping of realization, the rabbit felt a wicked grin spread across her face.

“Pumpkin?  Really?  Nick I swear your nicknames are getting worse.”

“Don’t pay her any mind honey. Ah like mah nickname…hell Ah have a few for Nick! Like he’s mah Glazed Doughnut...” Gideon gave his own mischievous smile and wiggled his eyebrows. Nick’s ears fell flat to his skull and the fur around his cheeks began to warm.

“Glazed doughnut...I don’t…”Judy looked between Nick and Gideon in confusion. “I don’t get it-” Gideon began to made a rude gesture with his paws and everything clicked for the rabbit. She felt her cheeks warming as she stifled a giggle. “Oh you two are horrible!  Just wait till I tell Clawhauser!”

“You will not repeat that name again Carrot’s or so help me I will blackmail you so hard!” Nick shot Judy a deadly glare. He then turned his attention to the other fox.  “And you! What did I say about that nickname, or would you like me to use your PRIVATE nickname?” The red fox pointed a claw at his boyfriend attempting to look threatening. Judy rested her head on her paws, smiling at her friends.

“Ye wouldn’t dare,” the baker fox placed his paws on his hips and gave his boyfriend a cocky grin.

“Alright, fine, you win…” Nick said, leaning back into his chair and taking a sip of his beverage. “...Double Stuffed…” He muttered just loud enough to be heard. Gideon felt his own face blush while Judy let out another round of laughter.

Nick and Gideon joined the laughing bunny and smiled. “Ok you two. No more pervy nicknames in public. Let’s get changed and go back to the parade!” Judy jumped out of her seat and threw the new shirt over her head.  Pulling her arms though the shirt, she admired her gift. Gideon offered a paw to his boyfriend to help him out of his chair. Nick gingerly took the paw with a smile.

The large fox pulls his partner up and wraps his free paw around the slender foxes waist. “Ah love you, ya naughty fox.” Gideon leans in, giving his partner a kiss. After a moment, Nick breaks the kiss and places his own free paw around the baker.

“And I love you Gideon.”

Walking out of the store with their new shirts on, the trio once again was surrounded by cheering and bright colors of Zootopia Pride. Only this time, the foxes couldn’t keep their smiles off their faces as they enjoyed the parade as a couple.

[unkindnessofone]

5SOS. Ice Cream

This story gets a touch smutty in the middle. Just a warning. It was fun to write, please enjoy and let me know what you think! This story takes place right after Primal & Primal 2

"I don't like this." Sounding like a little kid just put on a time out in the corner, Ashton muttered to Simone as he stuffed a small white plastic spoon into his dish of half eaten frozen yogurt. 

"Really?" Very concerned, Simone looked up at him. "Do you want to go back?" She stood still on the sidewalk for a moment, patting the phone in the pocket of her sweater as it had been buzzing all day. "We could switch. The hazelnut is quite nice." She offered up her dish to him, reaching it closer to his face.

"Not the frozen yogurt." He frowned and scooped himself up another bite of French vanilla with cookie crumbs. "This." He motioned to the walking couple ahead of them, Molly and Flynn, under the transforming sky. 

"Oh, come on, Ash." She huffed at him with a head shake. "I thought dinner was lovely." Somehow throughout their meal, Simone had slipped deeper into her most posh English accent. Ashton figured it was because Flynn practically interviewed her about what it was like to grow up in Maida Vale and some of her favourite old London haunts. 

Truthfully, Ashton couldn't really complain about dinner. His salmon was cooked to perfection, his wife didn't answer a single text, and Molly's partner came across as genuinely in awe of her. Most importantly, she was obviously happy. Ashton wasn't sure if he had ever seen his daughter beam before, but across from him at their corner table he saw her face radiate joyfully every time Flynn said her name or "Molls" as he had taken to calling her with great affection. He showed a plethora of interest in Ashton's latest musical adventures, Simone's company, and their son's current opening act gig. It was clear that Flynn had been raised in a house where manners reigned supreme. He shared with them, well Simone mostly, about his mother's Samoan background and learning to fish and play rugby with his Dad over in Perth. Ashton knew he should have been thrilled. His intelligent daughter had once again made an excellent choice for herself, but he wasn't happy at all. He had a cup full of frozen yogurt, but a pout that not even a picture of his beloved dogs could improve.

"They are so fond of each other. It's sweet. It's nice to see Molly branching out and dating." She never mingled much in high school. Her goals went beyond sexual attraction and beach dates like many of her fellow classmates. While Simone was always proud of how tenacious and focused her eldest was, she still wanted her to make connections and find a partnership somewhere. 

"I don't care for it." Like a grump, he snarled. Ashton was generally such a pro at finding the silver lining, but this felt like was walking through feet upon feet of fog. He stared with squinted eyes at the young couple ahead of them. He watched as Flynn tossed his cup out in a recycling bin they passed and then draped his oversized arm around Molly's shoulder. At dinner, he showed how gentle he was, but all Ashton's mind could do was strange a list of all the easy ways Flynn O'Malley could hurt his precious daughter.

"Exercise some trust. Molly's very smart." Playfully, Simone jabbed Ashton in his side. "Well, at least when she isn't tying herself up into trees, she is." Simone would be trying to make sense of that decision for a while. 

"I can trust her and not like something she is doing at the same time." Ashton liked being the only good guy in Molly's life as selfish and, perhaps, demented as that was. He knew kissing frogs and meeting new people was part of being a very young adult, but that didn't change how badly he wanted to keep her safe from how painful those novelties could be.

"You're right." Slipping her hand into Ashton's once they passed by the recycling bin and she had disposed of her litter, Simone bent. "My dad didn't like you at all in the beginning." However, Simone remembered feeling that at the time he also really didn't trust her because of that. 

"What?!" That was enough to pull Ashton away from painting a mental bullseye on Flynn's very chiseled back. "Arthur loves me!" He nearly shouted as he looked at his beautiful wife like she was spewing nonsense. 

"He didn't always." Frowning with a shrug, Simone practically swore. "He wanted me to focus on my business and saw a rockstar from Australia as a waste of time and reckless. He called you all kinds of horrible things." They were not impressed by what they collected about Ashton through online gossip. Her parents had always imagined she would take up with someone who was Eton educated and knew the difference between a salad fork and an entree fork. 

"Simmie, this is already a horrible day, why are you telling me this?" Very seriously, Ashton asked her. He always looked at her dad as a father figure to himself. He truly respected Simone's parents and had always strived to do right by their daughter. It was news to Ashton that for even a moment, Arthur Telford thought he was scum. 

"Because he knew you made me happy and that we were good together!" She continued. "I know your mother thought I was stuffy at first." 

"No, she didn't." Shaking his head, he insisted.

"She told me years ago that she did." Simone didn't mind in the slightest. "My point is that we don't get to pick who Molly and Connor take up with. We raised great people and we are going to love them through whatever choices they make even if they choose to tie themselves to trees or pine after Penelope Hemmings." 

Like she almost always was, Simone was right and Ashton knew it. It was just an adjustment that he hadn't arrived in Canberra ready for. He was still internally burning that she didn't rush into his arms and thank him for saving her. His hero complex that Molly always indulged was left unfufilled. 

"He flew from Gold Coast to be here. He missed a training day to be there for her." Sim leaned into Ashton as he squeezed her hand, smiling at her daughter up ahead as she caught a glimpse of her grinning at something Flynn said the way she used to on the way to the zoo. "Reminds me of an old boyfriend I had." She waited for Ashton to look down at her before grinning back up at him, not at all hiding how happy their memories made her. "Look past the rugby player physique and everything else, just to try to be happy that right now she's happy and is with someone who seems to think she is perfect." 

"Haven't we talked about this?" With his cup in only one hand, the contents inside mostly melted, Ashton tossed his arm around his wife's shoulder and let go of holding her hand. He craved her much closer. "You're not allowed to be right more than twice per conversation." Ashton didn't always find it so easy to admit that she was right and he was wrong. They had really come so far together and been through a whirlwind. 

He noticed Molly turn around and check on them and instead of scowling, Ashton just shot her a dorky thumbs up. He knew he and Simone had a healthy marriage, albeit strange, and he knew that Molly would not settle for less than what she deserved from people. He just had to get with the program and then everything would be okay. 

*****

For a girl who loved to be clean and carried around alcohol wipes and hand sanitizer in her purse, Simone wore her dirty hands proudly. Three was nothing quite like an afternoon tucked into her studio where she slipped into a work rabbit hole and fulfilled orders or new creative ideas rolling around in her mind. It took less than ten minutes each time for her fingers to be coated with black oil and shiny grey grime from widdling together her different jewelry pieces. 

She was concentrating so contently on creating one of her most beloved ring stacks, the Palisades, with ethically sourced diamonds over its usual peridots for a custom order that she hadn't noticed the sun had stopped floating through the window. It was almost ten o'clock and it took a terrifying thud against her front door followed by the bell ringing repeatedly to make her look up from her work and realize that she hadn't eaten since tea with her mother earlier in the day. 

She wasn't expecting guests, but Simone wiped her hands on the rag closest to her and checked her cell phone for any missed messages. There was only notifications for emails through her website. She didn't have any missed calls or texts, not even from Ashton, her best friend, or older brother or younger sister.  She hummed curiously to herself and kept trying to wipe at her filthy hands with the rag as she moved out of the spare bedroom that she had transformed into a studio and went to answer the door that was still being abused. 

She checked in her peep hole to see who in the Hell was making so much noise. Simone felt a even, but complicated mixture of relieved and worried when she saw Ashton on the other side. Was he okay? Why was he even here? Her mind raced as she hurried to unlock the chain on her door and then the deadbolt. Her internal monologue also contemplated how dreadful she currently felt. She had been fighting off a tickle of a sniffle for a couple days. She and Ashton had only been together a smattering of times and known one another for a few months, Simone realized this would be the first time he would see her without makeup on. She had on black yoga leggings and an oversized Chelsea FC tshirt on that had been gift from someone who didn't know her terribly well. Why couldn't he have come before when she was still in the business casual outfit she put together for tea? 

"I'm about to open the door." Holding the knob, Simone informed him. He was knocking with one fist so frantically that she felt confident he would fly forward and crash into her if she just swung it open.  Once the banging ceased, she pulled it open and revealed herself in all her casual glory. 

Ashton stood nervous in front of her, anxiety and exhaustion slicked over his face, but he looked like he was melting as his smile brightened and eyes softened at the sight of her. Simone didn't realize, but her cheeks began to hurt from grinning as hard as she could when she saw him. It took her a handful of seconds to realize that his non-knocking hand was holding a bouquet of autumn hues as it was just October as of two days ago. The sunflowers, coral roses, and orange alstroemeria shone brightly in his hand. It was bizarre that she had noticed his toothy nervous smile first. 

"I thought you were in Canada or something." Simone relaxed and shared. She was in the middle of stepping out of the way when she heard Ashton take a huge deep breath. She looked up just in time to spot his face right in front of hers, coming forward in one single motion to kiss her madly. He was like a sailor back home after being away for months at a time. The brown paper holding the flowers crinkled against her back as they moved deeper into her flat, their lips never parting as their hands gripped at one another's shirts. Behind Ashton, her front door slammed, but it was practically distant background noise to him.

"I don't want to be away from you anymore." His forehead leaned against hers and Ashton took his first breath away from her mouth to admit that. She was occupying all his thoughts in a way that nothing besides music and boobs had before. He always wanted to check in with her, he didn't like ending his day without hearing how hers was going first, and he had started considering how she would feel before he did just about anything that wasn't playing the drums, signing autographs, or taking his morning piss. She had devoured his thoughts despite rarely getting to spend more than a couple days together at a time. They were casual thanks to the travel aspect of his career, but he wanted so much more from the jewelry designer.   

"As soon as the show was done, I hopped on a plane and flew here." He explained, laughing in his uneven breath at how crazy the last seven hours had been. Ashton truly didn't know what time it was anywhere. "I missed you, Sim." He sighed and kissed her again. "Oh shit, I brought you flowers." He had picked them up from Heathrow as soon as he landed, wishing he had brought all the small things he had picked up along his travels for her. Ashton fisted them forward, making them the only thing between their bodies.

"Thank you." For the first time, Simone looked away from his engaging stare and took in the bouquet he picked, breathing in the scent and admiring the colours. It made her long for a Sunday roast with some kind of spiced pie, but she kept that to herself. "You could have just called." Shaking her head at him, Simone tried to inform him of what he already knew. She slinked away from him in order to rest the flowers on the black coffee table. "You didn't have to fly all this way -" With his schedule, she knew they probably only had a handful of hours together.

"Then I couldn't do this." From behind, Ashton wrapped his arm around her waist and turned her to face him. In one swift movement, he indulged the adrenaline that forged ahead of his exhaustion and picked her up so her legs wrapped around him. Her delighted gasp only made him feel more encouraged as he walked them both into her immaculately kept mostly white with some champagne tones bedroom. His mouth was stretched open on her neck the whole eleven steps in before he dropped her off somewhat in the bed's center.

The two of them had slept together before, just a handful of times. Ashton had felt surprised by how sexual Simone was. He had expected a good girl who would be repulsed by some of the positions he liked best or even his darker fantasies, but she really was his match. In some ways, she was his match with better stamina. She encouraged his fingers to dig in deeper, for his hands to push her into the bed harder, and for his mouth to call her a bevy of names that he would never associate with her outside of the bedroom. Ashton had finished himself off more times than he could count at the memory of perfectly polished London girl removing her red skin tight La Perla  thong and then stuffing into his mouth before going down on him. While Ashton loved that she was just as turned on by rough sex as he was, he had something else in mind. Simone had long since stopped being a woman he was infatuated with. He had finally given up on the notion that she was too good for him and would soon catch onto that. Ashton knew that he was so deeply in love with her that he was almost drowning. He wanted her to know that now. 

Simone inched up the bed, searching without looking for pillow, as Ashton climbed onto the mattress and followed her. He leaned in over her and inhaled deeply right above her hips before running both his palms over her legging covered thighs.

"You smell like home." He told her in a longing moan before he started to peel off her bottoms, bringing her black underwear from Primark with them. She felt so desired that she could have been wearing a hospital gown and felt sexy. Ashton's hands had a way of making her feel like she was the most important person in the room. His thumbs pushed into her thighs and he used his grip to push her legs back, bringing her bare knees to her stomach. He took his hands off of her long enough to fish his arms out of the sleeves of his denim button up and then pulled his white undershirt over his plane hair. Ashton's hands returned to under her thighs, holding her legs back before he pushed himself in and kissed her warm pussy just as he had kissed her upon arrival. Ashton had every intention of going slow, nibbling around her legs and teasing her entrance with long licks and rubbing at her small clit with two fingers the way he knew she couldn't help, but love. Once he saw her revealed to him, he couldn't control himself. He just had to devour her like she was his first real meal in days. Ashton practically sucked at her walls before sliding one finger in, curling it upward and grinning proudly into her as he felt her tighten and ass come closer. She was whispering his name up to the ceiling fan and Ashton knew she liked it. He let her stretch out her legs before running his free hand over her vulva. He thought it was so cute that even though they hadn't been around one another in almost a month, she still kept herself trimmed and tidied for herself. A small strip of hair right above where her clit was hiding. There was nothing he didn't notice about her from her patch of freckles under her belly button, to the way her whispers moved into slurs when he lapped at the bottom of her opening, to how she said she liked one sugar in her tea and didn't seem to notice she always put in two packets. Ashton could pen a book about the jeweller and, right now, he was using his tongue to write it inside of her. 

"Baby, let me look after you." She struggled for a second and then hoisted herself up on her elbows, watching him as he dedicated his jaw to her pussy. She had been amused before, but now he had her dripping wet and sparkling off of his stubbly chin. "I want you in my mouth." It wasn't so much about returning the favor. Simone just liked hollowing out her cheeks to fit him. It made her feel powerful to work him with her tongue and lips, to have lose himself just because of the way she flicked at his tip over and over like a hungry orphaned kitten. Besides, he had flown all the way there. A blowjob seemed like the least she could do despite how much she wanted to.

"Soon enough, babe." He moaned between her lips before raising himself up and crawling over top of her. Ashton snaked up her shirt with both hands to help it over her head. He had noticed when she opened her door that she wasn't wearing a bra, but he appreciated it more so now as he had full access of his favourite parts of her to fondle. "I'm going to have you on your stomach," he growled into her ear before sucking on the top of the line, feeling the shivers it always created suddenly grow from her skin. "And on your sides and with your face against the window above your bed," Ashton rattled off all the places he was going to take her tonight, each position. They didn't have a lot of time and he would make the most of what they did have. "I want to be sure you can still feel me when I see you again." It was supposed to be in another week and a half, but he seriously doubted he could make it that long.

"That better be a promise, Ashton Irwin." Her head had been turned on the pillow to better hear every word he was saying and feel every kiss he put on her cheek, jaw, clavicle, and now over her erect nipple. At the sound of words and the way she fidgeted her chest. He bit down on he left breast and didn't let go until after her gasp had disappeared in the room. 

As Ashton moved back down, squeezing her sides slowly and kissing her hip bones as he did, Simone forgot all about her dirty fingers and reached down to grip his hair and play in the near-curly locks as he went back to his very private conversation with her pussy.

****************************

Ashton could have slept right away afterwards. The thrill of seeing Simmie fled his body when he finally released his load and now he was struggling to keep his eyes open under her covers. His body was used to five star hotel beds by now, but her mattress was plenty comfortable for him. She had memory foam and he swore it could recall the shape they took together cuddling on their sides the few times he had managed to stay over before. Simone was reinvigorated with energy and inspiration. Ashton had made her cum three times, the final blowout along with him which felt intense and ardent, and now she could invest herself in a home renovation or attend an exercise boot camp. Instead, she walked through her apartment naked and went to make tea for their afterglow as well as find a vase and water for the flowers he brought her. Simone entered the room again with the flowers in front of her face, placing them down on the window sill behind the headboard of her bed. She glanced down at Ashton's most sleepy face, fighting with himself to keep his eyes partially open.

“I'm a fan of this.” In a low tone, he told her as her breasts hung in his face. She wished they could be perkier, but at the end of the day, she was quite happy with her  body and all it's dimensions and surprises. Simone had a beyond healthy dose of self confidence and it was, perhaps, the most appealing thing about her. Ashton also loved the way she could talk to anyone, handled her business, and could make any curse word sound like a compliment.

“How much time do we have?” She slid down under the covers that he opened for her and let him move in to rest his head on her bare chest. It felt better than any feather pillow ever could. Instinctively, she combed at his hair with three fingers and stared off at her wall, bare since she had moved her whiteboard, bulletin board of inspiration and thank you cards, and her most recent family portrait into her office. Ashton's eyes were shut as he breathed in the smell of her sweet hair mist her hair fallen around her shoulders.

“I have a flight at about 4 in the morning.” He had wanted her, no, required her so badly before that he hadn't wanted to mention it and cloud their time together with a ticking clock. “We have a show in Calgary.”

“Well, this was a very nice surprise.” She nodded and chose to look on the bright side. He was her with her right now.

“I'm in love with you, Sim.” He yawned, turning to make himself more comfortable and sandwiching his face between her breasts.

“I know. You said so about three times during sex.” She giggled freely and kissed the top of his head. While things were moving fast, she understood that this was novel ground for them both. “I'm quite crazy about you as well.” Simone rested her cheek onto the top of his head.

“That's good enough for me.” Ashton yawned again. “It doesn't change the fact that I'm going to marry you very soon, we're going to have five kids, two dogs, and a place here, in Sydney, and probably one more. You do a lot of work in New York, right?”

Simone had to tell herself not to howl with laughter. Ashton was taking being adorable while being sleepy to a whole different place.

“Well, where's my ring?” Playing along, Simone asked with her face still squished against the top of his head.

“I've looked.” He admitted openly through his drowsiness. It was fast, all his friends thought so, but Ashton knew that it was her for him. He didn't care that it would be the last beautiful girl he ever bedded or that it would change his life entirely. In fact, with her, that was what he wanted. “It's very hard to find a ring when the girl you want to marry designs jewelry.” She was always wearing her own creations and he couldn't exactly blame her. She was talented and her pieces were in demand.

“Well, you could just design something and I could make it.” Sweetly, Simone suggested.

“Maybe.” Ashton yawned and blew his warm breath against her right breasts before sinking deeper into sleep. The battle to stay awake was barely being fought anymore. “I've never designed a ring before.” His mind did have plenty of ideas to create from though. They always had that in common: their endless creativity.

“Just rest, darling.” She sat up a touch straighter and kissed the top of his head. “Wait, Ash?”

“Hm?”

“I love you too.” She decided now was the right time to say it. It was what she was feeling. He was the reason she was being bubblier than usual. He was the one she anticipated talking to every day. He was the joy between a frustrating meeting or phone call.

In response, Ashton wrapped his arms around her stomach like she was a body pillow and kissed her breast, softer than before.

Simone knew the kettle was going to start whistling in her kitchen soon, but she was trapped under Ashton and she didn't want to move.

[imagine--drv3]

Hello! Could I please request ndrv3 boys with a very self-centered and arrogant yet manipulative s/o?

Sounds pretty harsh, I love it! Enjoy the angst!

Korekiyo Shinguuji

it really does irk him a little, sometimes you can drive him down to the last nerve with your selfishness.

but he’s conflicted, because he also believes you should be showered in gifts if you so desire it.

and you ARE often showered in gifts, because you always manage to squeeze them out of him.

he knows that all humans are made different, but he’s honestly a little startled by the fact that you were just made so mean.

at first, he’s always trying to please you, all the time.

but it’s just so impossible, he’s tired.

it doesn’t even dawn on him that he likely deserves better for himself.

he’s mostly resigned to this.

Amami Rantarou

amami wants the best for you! really, he does!

he wants you to be happy and comfortable and he doesn’t want to do anything to upset you.

however, that’s a little tricky when it seems like he’s almost always upsetting you.

really, he’s trying his best, but you never seem pleased and you never seem impressed.

one day, you notice that he’s starting to seem more drained than usual.

his spark is going out.

not like that deters you anyway.

for the next while in your relationship, he’s discouraged, believing every fight is his fault, every mistake is his doing, you’re always the victim.

and then one day, he just can’t take it anymore.

he leaves you.

you’re honestly stunned, how dare he?

he explains that you’d clearly be happier without him anyway, so what was the point?

he just hopes you’ll forgive him for being so worthless.

Ouma Kokichi

being a bit of a manipulative shit himself, ouma’s not blind to what you’re trying to pull.

so when your true nature starts shining through, he notices right away, and isn’t going to have it.

he dumps you on the spot, which honestly shocks you!

and he’s definitely not nice about it either.

he assures you that if you’re going to try to fool somebody into thinking you’re sweet when you’re actually a monster, you should try somebody a little less knowledgeable in the practice.

better luck next time!

Shuuichi Saihara

when you start telling him that everything he’s doing is wrong, that he’s always wrong, he really does believe you.

i mean, why wouldn’t he? he always sort of expected it, all you were really doing was confirming it for sure.

he listened to you, he did what you wanted, he never really put up a fight, but he did cry.

never around you though.

after a while, he pretty much forgot any individuality he might have had to begin with.

especially since everything was always about you.

hell, at this point, his entire life was pretty much just all about you.

but it wasn’t so bad! not all the time!

when you praised him, it felt amazing!

he loved the thought of you being pleased with him, he knew you really loved him, he knew it!

you wonder when it’ll be the right time to drop the joke and leave him.

Kaito Momota

you wish he would be a little more of a pushover honestly.

but he’s not! he’s stubborn and proud and he doesn’t like the way you’re treating him, which is frustrating for you.

he refuses to just sit there and take your abuse.

but he loves you, he really does, so he doesn’t want to just up and leave.

so it’s a process, really.

not letting you talk about yourself so much, not letting you mistreat him, calling you out on your actions.

and eventually, to his delight, he starts to notice a change. 

he really notices when one day, upon getting home, you ask him how his day was without a second thought.

he’s so happy to hear you ask that, without making everything about yourself.

he’s proud of you!

eventually, with lots of adjusting, you two actually manage a pretty healthy relationship.

he knew you could change.

Kiibo

he’s kind of confused.

he did a lot of research on romance and couples, and they always seemed a lot happier than this, a lot more loving, a lot less hostile.

so you can imagine his surprise when you constantly stated that he wasn’t living up to your standards, and that he should be so much more useful as the ultimate robot.

it honestly kind of hurt.

but he didn’t really have a frame for comparison.

maybe he was just doing it wrong...?

and that’s how the bad thoughts started.

this was all his fault.

his stupid robot brain was doing everything wrong.

why couldn’t he just do this right? why couldn’t he give you that happy relationship?

why was he such a virus? a sickness?

that’s what he was, a sickness. a sickness that was making your life miserable, when you could be living in one of the beautiful romance movies he saw on TV.

for ages he thought that way, thought he was a sickness that was holding you back.

until he finally realized.

he wasn’t doing everything wrong.

he wasn’t the sickness.

you were.

at first he couldn’t process it, he had been doing it right all along?

you were the sickness? all along?

after the confusion came rage.

you had never seen him like that, that angry.

and you never would again.

he didn’t come back after he left.

why would he go back to being infected?

why would he return to a filthy sickness?

Gonta Gokuhara

he’s frustrating, yes, but for a completely different reason.

he doesn’t get it.

he doesn’t care when you don’t ask him about his day, about his hobbies, about his life, he just doesn’t mind it.

gonta loves hearing about you! you can talk about yourself for as long as you want!

“You’re worthless.”

“Eh? Gonta is not worthless! You must be mistaken, eheh!”

nothing bothers him.

it’s infuriating!

and gonta still loves you either way!

ugh!

Ryouma Hoshi

he knows the signs.

as soon as you start acting the way that you do, he knows the signs.

he knows staying will only hurt him further.

but god, he just loves you so much.

in the end, he knows you aren’t who he fell in love with.

that was all an act, wasn’t it?

when you wake up to a note explaining his departure, you’re pretty bitter.

you thought he’d stay for sure.

guess you didn’t know him so well after all.

[lorettalivingston6911]

Luke Bryan Accused Of Animal Cruelty After 'Disgusting' Christmas Gift Of Baby Kangaroos To Wife Caroline!

people always ask me if I've been getting Botox

If Luke Bryan isn't careful he's going to be huntin', fishin', and defending himself from online accusations of animal cruelty every day.

The country star has been under fire on Instagram since Christmas day when he posted a video of his gift to his wife -- two baby kangaroos!

Photo: Luke Gives Wife The Spotlight On The CMA Awards Red Carpet!

In the adorable vid (below), Caroline Boyer seems completely shocked and delighted by the Aussie animals:

Brett’s barn additions. #brettsbarnA post shared by Luke Bryan Official (@lukebryan) on Dec 25, 2017 at 7:17am PST

Later, Caroline posted a pic of the joeys, named Margo and Todd, lounging by the fireplace:

2 Live Roo and Roo Tang Clan are living their best life. 🔥🔥🔥Seriously...real names are Margo and Todd. They are adjusting perfectly are beyond sweet and precious. #brettsbarn #christmasvacation #margoandtoddA post shared by Caroline Bryan (@linabryan3) on Dec 26, 2017 at 6:26pm PST

So cute!

Um... but is this an example of animal cruelty?

A great many commenters seem to think so, especially those from Australia, where the marsupials are native. Here's a small sampling:

"Those poor babies"

"What a total fuck wit! You ass hole! As an Australian who has worked at wildlife sanctuaries looking after kangaroos I can assure you they are not pets mate! Seriously or show trophies! You are a fucken joke!"

"Absolutely fucking disgusting. These marsupials should be with their respective mothers on acreage and not in fucking nappies given as pets😤😠😡No Australian would even think of doing this. Surrender these sentients to a sanctuary"

"Do some research. Our Roos aren't to be messed with. They can be fierce! They should not be pets!"

"Absolute disgrace. Kangaroos don't belong in nappies and sure as hell don't belong in your house. Ignorant animal abusing wanker. Clearly you have no idea about animals."

"These Aussie native animals deserve better. They belong with their mums and in the bush, NOT at your house or in your fuckin animal barn u idiot. True animal lovers don't do this sort of shit. 👎👎👎👎👎"

So are they just trying to turn these kangaroos into household pets?

Not exactly. If you'll notice, Luke calls them "additions" to Brett's Barn. In case you didn't know, Brett's Barn is the animal rescue shelter founded by Caroline, named after the couple's baby niece Sadie Brett, who died earlier this year.

Here are some pics of shared by Caroline of the facility and the animals within:

Happy Birthday Love Bug!!! You are the best thing to ever happen to our family. Hope your day is as wonderful and fun as meeeeeeee!!!! ♥️♥️♥️A post shared by Caroline Bryan (@linabryan3) on Jul 17, 2017 at 1:50pm PDT

Bumble Bryan everybody!! Bumble...aka..."Bossy"...is another mini in Brett's Barn. She's fearless! Much to the dismay of the other animals, Bumble takes what she wants when she wants it....still working on taming that! My only guess for her aggressive behavior is a result from living in horrible conditions. Bumble was days away from dying, due to starvation. Thanks to @redemption_road_rescue , Bumble was rescued and nursed back to proper health. The pictures of Bumble (previously known as China) are extremely disturbing. I can't believe my sweet mini once looked like the last picture. Thank you @redemption_road_rescue for your amazing work. Bumble will never know hunger/abuse again! She's a fighter and very much loved! #brettsbarn #brightforbrettA post shared by Caroline Bryan (@linabryan3) on Aug 10, 2017 at 9:14pm PDT

This sweet little angel came to visit Brett's Barn yesterday! GG and Jimmy Dean fell in love with little Luke...yes his name is Luke! Thank you for coming out. Such a great afternoon! Thank you @ellenboyer for the introduction! ♥️ #brightforbrett #brettsbarnA post shared by Caroline Bryan (@linabryan3) on Aug 21, 2017 at 8:04am PDT

I sincerely hope Jimmy Dean is practicing a yoga pose. Naughty little pig. 🐷🖐🏻it! #brettsbarn #brightforbrettA post shared by Caroline Bryan (@linabryan3) on Aug 15, 2017 at 1:09pm PDT

It certainly seems like they'll at least be in the hands of some real caring animal lovers. At the very least, they're not being treated simply as "pets."

Can the Bryan family raise two kangaroos?

What do YOU think??

[Image via Instagram.]

Real celebrity on the items

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Luke Bryan Accused Of Animal Cruelty After 'Disgusting' Christmas Gift Of Baby Kangaroos To Wife Caroline!

If Luke Bryan isn't careful he's going to be huntin', fishin', and defending himself from online accusations of animal cruelty every day.

The country star has been under fire on Instagram since Christmas day when he posted a video of his gift to his wife -- two baby kangaroos!

Photo: Luke Gives Wife The Spotlight On The CMA Awards Red Carpet!

In the adorable vid (below), Caroline Boyer seems completely shocked and delighted by the Aussie animals:

Brett’s barn additions. #brettsbarnA post shared by Luke Bryan Official (@lukebryan) on Dec 25, 2017 at 7:17am PST

Later, Caroline posted a pic of the joeys, named Margo and Todd, lounging by the fireplace:

2 Live Roo and Roo Tang Clan are living their best life. 🔥🔥🔥Seriously...real names are Margo and Todd. They are adjusting perfectly are beyond sweet and precious. #brettsbarn #christmasvacation #margoandtoddA post shared by Caroline Bryan (@linabryan3) on Dec 26, 2017 at 6:26pm PST

So cute!

Um... but is this an example of animal cruelty?

A great many commenters seem to think so, especially those from Australia, where the marsupials are native. Here's a small sampling:

"Those poor babies"

"What a total fuck wit! You ass hole! As an Australian who has worked at wildlife sanctuaries looking after kangaroos I can assure you they are not pets mate! Seriously or show trophies! You are a fucken joke!"

"Absolutely fucking disgusting. These marsupials should be with their respective mothers on acreage and not in fucking nappies given as pets😤😠😡No Australian would even think of doing this. Surrender these sentients to a sanctuary"

"Do some research. Our Roos aren't to be messed with. They can be fierce! They should not be pets!"

"Absolute disgrace. Kangaroos don't belong in nappies and sure as hell don't belong in your house. Ignorant animal abusing wanker. Clearly you have no idea about animals."

"These Aussie native animals deserve better. They belong with their mums and in the bush, NOT at your house or in your fuckin animal barn u idiot. True animal lovers don't do this sort of shit. 👎👎👎👎👎"

So are they just trying to turn these kangaroos into household pets?

Not exactly. If you'll notice, Luke calls them "additions" to Brett's Barn. In case you didn't know, Brett's Barn is the animal rescue shelter founded by Caroline, named after the couple's baby niece Sadie Brett, who died earlier this year.

Here are some pics of shared by Caroline of the facility and the animals within:

Happy Birthday Love Bug!!! You are the best thing to ever happen to our family. Hope your day is as wonderful and fun as meeeeeeee!!!! ♥️♥️♥️A post shared by Caroline Bryan (@linabryan3) on Jul 17, 2017 at 1:50pm PDT

Bumble Bryan everybody!! Bumble...aka..."Bossy"...is another mini in Brett's Barn. She's fearless! Much to the dismay of the other animals, Bumble takes what she wants when she wants it....still working on taming that! My only guess for her aggressive behavior is a result from living in horrible conditions. Bumble was days away from dying, due to starvation. Thanks to @redemption_road_rescue , Bumble was rescued and nursed back to proper health. The pictures of Bumble (previously known as China) are extremely disturbing. I can't believe my sweet mini once looked like the last picture. Thank you @redemption_road_rescue for your amazing work. Bumble will never know hunger/abuse again! She's a fighter and very much loved! #brettsbarn #brightforbrettA post shared by Caroline Bryan (@linabryan3) on Aug 10, 2017 at 9:14pm PDT

This sweet little angel came to visit Brett's Barn yesterday! GG and Jimmy Dean fell in love with little Luke...yes his name is Luke! Thank you for coming out. Such a great afternoon! Thank you @ellenboyer for the introduction! ♥️ #brightforbrett #brettsbarnA post shared by Caroline Bryan (@linabryan3) on Aug 21, 2017 at 8:04am PDT

I sincerely hope Jimmy Dean is practicing a yoga pose. Naughty little pig. 🐷🖐🏻it! #brettsbarn #brightforbrettA post shared by Caroline Bryan (@linabryan3) on Aug 15, 2017 at 1:09pm PDT

It certainly seems like they'll at least be in the hands of some real caring animal lovers. At the very least, they're not being treated simply as "pets."

Can the Bryan family raise two kangaroos?

What do YOU think??

[Image via Instagram.]