#i'm actually about to jump off my roof

[milolovesbmc]

Gruesome Playground Injuries except House is Doug's doctor. That's it. That's the post

[mattmurdeaux]

One of my favorite things: When Charlie just wows people on set with his stunt work prowess whenever he decides to be Daredevil in real life:

"Charlie is an unbelievable physical athlete. We were shooting the scene, and he was like, "Ah this is what I'm gonna do. I'm gonna do a handstand, and I'm going to do press ups on a handstand." He just got up and he just did it, it was like, "What? Wow!" - Marc Jobst, DD S3 director

"Charlie did about 80 percent of the sequence himself...to be able to stay in the moment and emote and be able to actually go through this action sequence with no breaks for 11 and a half, do the highly emotional scene in the middle of it, and then keep going into another action sequence...he's the MVP, without a doubt." - Alex Garcia Lopez, DD S3 director

"At the end of the scene, I was supposed to exit. So I asked them if they could throw a cushion out the window and then, without telling anyone, casually went out that way during one of the takes rather than the door."

"You wouldn't believe how much Charlie actually does. Half the time you see DD flipping, everyone thinks it's me, but it's actually Charlie! He learned how to do a palm spin in a matter of minutes. He also threw a front flip ax kick inside a bus! The guy is amazing." - Chris Brewster, Charlie's stunt double

"When he jumps off the roof in the episode, he did that by himself and shocked everyone. He was like, 'Can I have a little pad?' Then suddenly, he flipped off the roof, and we were all like, 'Did Charlie just do that by himself?' - Kat Coiro, director

"Same thing with Charlie. I mean, he comes in and he wants to do everything. He's a legend, and he's able to come in and learn the fight in a day." - Marc Scizak, stunt coordinator

[firewasabeast]

prompt: the rest of the 118 see tommy and buck be affectionate together for the first time. not just the aftermath, like with the wedding kiss, but they actually witness it. cuteness overload!

It took a few weeks for everything to calm down enough for everyone to get together.

The 118 was adjusting to working under Captain Gerrard.

Bobby and Athena were adjusting to moving into an apartment half the size of their house.

Hen and Karen were adjusting to visits with Mara every chance they could get.

Chimney and Maddie were adjusting to having two young girls running around the house.

Eddie was adjusting to being alone.

And Buck was less adjusting and more enjoying his new romance with Tommy.

He didn't mention Tommy much at work. He got sick of Gerrard's one-off comments pretty quickly. Usually, he would have been egging him on every chance he got, but it turns out he was more protective of Tommy than he originally realized, and anytime his name came out of Gerrard's mouth it made him want to punch the man.

It was easier to not bring him up.

When Bobby and Athena had finally settled into their new place, which very conveniently had a grilling and picnic area on the roof, they invited everyone over.

Bobby made sure to include Tommy in his invitation. His and Buck's relationship may have been new, but he was an old friend to the majority of the 118, and a new friend to those he hadn't known all that long.

He did not include the fact that Athena was insistent on seeing their dynamic because, “One of them is gonna give the other a run for their money and I can't figure out which one's which yet.”

In fact, the majority of the group was interested in seeing Tommy and Buck together. Everyone except Eddie, who accidentally witnessed far too much of their dynamic a couple weeks ago when he decided to head into Buck's place without knocking first.

It would be the last time he ever made that mistake.

The others couldn't help their curiosity. It was the first time Buck had ever seemed so settled in a relationship. The first time he wasn't asking for near-constant advice. The first time he wasn't endlessly concerned he was doing something wrong or about to screw things up.

Something was different. Something had shifted. They wanted to know what it was.

And while Hen and Chimney had known Tommy for a long time, they hadn't exactly stayed in touch after he left. Up until the cruise rescue, Hen hadn't really spoken to him at all, and Chimney would send him a text or two each year just to ask how he was keeping up. The Tommy they knew was closeted, scared, defensive under Gerrard's leadership, cocky, and seemingly always searching for something... more.

“I'm kinda bummed,” Buck said as they headed up to the roof.

“What?” Tommy glanced at him curiously. “Why?”

“Because everyone already knows you,” he explained. “I can't introduce you as my boyfriend.”

Tommy smiled, eyes crinkling up in the cute way Buck loved. He switched the wine bottle he was holding to his other hand took Buck's hand in his, giving it a squeeze. “You can still do that, if you want. I mean, they might look at you funny, but who cares, right?”

Buck squeezed his hand back. After a moment, he gasped, eyes widening as he did a little jump. “I can introduce you to all the kids!” he exclaimed.

Tommy couldn't help but laugh at Buck's excitement. “That sounds perfect, Evan.”

*****

Bobby wasn't sure how they'd gotten to this point only five minutes into Buck arriving, but here they were. Before Tommy had even handed off the wine, Buck was going into a story on Gerrard mentioning the 1933 Griffith Park Fire, but he had been wrong about some information.

“And I was trying to tell him how twenty-nine people died, not twenty-seven, but he was insistent that I was wrong. I knew I wasn't. I had just spent a couple hours the other night reading over articles about it. When was it, Tommy?” he asked, turning to his boyfriend, “Two nights ago?”

“Uh, three. Three nights ago.”

“Right, three nights ago. See, two people died later at the hospital, so they weren't included in the initial death toll. So, obviously, I had to get online and show him...”

As Buck continued, Bobby nodded along, trying to take in at least some of what he was saying. Sometimes, when Buck got on tangents like these, it was hard to keep up.

As the discussion got more heated, Bobby noticed Tommy's hand drifted to Buck's back, resting at the base. Buck continued without missing a beat, but his voice calmed and his posture relaxed.

“Did he ever admit defeat?” Tommy asked. To Bobby's surprise, Tommy had kept his eyes on Buck the entire time. He seemed genuinely interested in every word that was coming out of Buck's mouth.

Buck shook his head. “No, he'd never do that. But he was quiet for the rest of the day, so I took it as a win.”

“Oh, that's definitely a win,” Tommy agreed.

Not that he ever doubted, but it was then that Bobby knew his initial analysis was correct. Tommy was good people, and he was good for Buck.

*****

Hen's eyes drifted over the rooftop, settling between Tommy and Buck. She had noticed earlier how they always seemed to gravitate toward each other. Now was no different. Even though they were on opposite sides of the roof, Buck talking to Maddie, and Tommy having a very expressive conversation with Jee, they would steal glances at each other. A smile here, a wink there. Buck even gave Tommy a little wave, like they hadn't been sitting side by side only five minutes ago.

“I don't think it's just the honeymoon phase for those two,” Athena said, scooting a chair closer to Hen before sitting down.

Hen rolled her eyes affectionately at yet another tiny wave from Buck before turning to Athena. “I think I agree. I've never seen Buck so smitten before, and I don't use that word often.”

“Mhm,” Athena hummed with a nod. “Tommy seems just as smitten as Buck. I don't ever remember him looking so peaceful before. I haven't worked with him much since he transferred to Harbor, but I remember what he was like before.”

Hen huffed out a laugh. “Arrogant?”

“And stiff.”

“Yeah. He changed a lot, especially after Gerrard left, but this is different.”

They kept watching as Jee got distracted by Mara and they ran off to play. Tommy walked over to Buck, who held out his hand for Tommy to take before Tommy was even close.

As soon as he could, Tommy took his hand and sat down beside him on the little couch. Buck leaned in close, whispering something in his ear, then they laughed deep and loud.

“If I watch anymore of this I'm gonna throw up,” Hen said, standing up. “I'm gonna go rescue Karen from whatever game Denny is showing her on his phone.”

Athena laughed, squeezed Hen's hand as she went by, but kept her attention on the boys.

She couldn't seem to look away.

*****

Maddie tapped Chimney's thigh, nodding toward where Buck and Tommy were standing in a corner of the rooftop, watching the sunset. They had their arms wrapped around one another, occasionally stealing a chaste kiss. “They look so happy,” she said, a warm smile on her face.

“Yeah, they do,” Chimney agreed. “I'm happy for both of them. They're good together.”

“Yeah, they are. Did you know Buck hasn't even been to his loft in a week? When he's not working he's at Tommy's place.”

“And they're not sick of each other yet?” Chimney laughed. “Oh, they're in deep.”

Before Maddie could respond, Eddie was coming up to them, kneeling down beside Chimney. “We gotta hide the clipboards.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I'm serious, man, we're gonna be in deep trouble if we don't.”

Maddie leaned forward. “Why do you need to hide the clipboards, Eddie?”

Eddie motioned to Buck and Tommy. Tommy had an arm around Buck's shoulder now, both of Buck's still wrapped around Tommy's waist. He had his head resting against Tommy's shoulder, and Tommy pressed a kissed to the top of his head. “Have you seen the two of them? I'm not even gonna go into what I witnessed a couple weeks ago-”

“Thank God.”

“-but they've got it bad for each other. I give it six months before they're engaged. You know what happens after that?”

Chimney thought for a second, sucking in a breath when the realization hit him. “Wedding planning.”

“Wedding planning,” Eddie repeated.

Maddie shook her head. “You guys are crazy.”

“What? You don't think they'll be ready to walk down the aisle in six months time?” Chimney asked.

“Oh, no, they definitely will. You're just crazy if you think not being able to find a clipboard will stop him. I don't know if you guys know this, but Notes app Buck is far worse than clipboard Buck.”

[sanguineterrain]

sunset anew | dick grayson

Summary: You're a little nervous to become the Mrs. Grayson. Luckily, your husband-to-be knows just what to say to soothe your worries. 

Pairing: Dick Grayson x fem!reader 

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings/tags: wedding, anxious reader, the batfam actually gets along, fluff!! (dick is my wife.)

If you like this fic and want to see more, please let me know through reblogs ♡

the divider

Contrary to popular belief, Gotham isn't a complete eyesore. 

Sure, it's no vacation spot, and it's probably not the ideal place to settle down. But there are beautiful parts within the grunge. 

Your wedding planner had shown you multiple locations, from Napa to the Bahamas. Bruce had insisted cost was no problem.

But that wasn't what made you choose Gotham. 

Your forearms rest on the polished stone-top railing that surrounds the rooftop of the nicest hotel in the city. Thirty-two floors, all rented out for you. 

You look down at the tiny cars and people below. Your heart swoops. 

Your heels are in one hand. The sun crests the horizon; soon, yellow will melt into buttery orange and pink. It’s the first sunset you knew. The only sunset you know. And it’s the same one you saw the first time you met your almost-husband.

You'd come up here so you wouldn't miss it. Just this one time.

“Found her!”

You jump as the roof access door opens. Damian and Duke walk out. Duke gives you a warm smile.

"Jesus, you guys," you say, hand on your chest. “Way to scare a girl.”

“Sorry. You look really nice,” Duke says, smoothing his bowtie. 

Damian crosses his arms, clearly unimpressed.

“Frightening you is the least of our concerns. We thought you’d run. Which would be understandable, considering the family you’re marrying into, but Father spent a lot renting the hotel. Plus, Grayson would’ve been inconsolable, and extremely annoying.”

“Dude,” Duke says, elbowing Damian. “Chill out. It’s not like she was actually going to leave him at the altar.” He squints at you. “Were you?”

“No! I wasn’t going to leave him at the altar, oh my God.”

Damian nods. “Good." He taps his watch and speaks into it. "Grayson, our work is done. Come to the roof.”

Duke gives you a wave and they wordlessly leave the way they came. You sigh and start to slip your heels back on. There’s some whispering at the bottom of the stairs, and Damian shouts “no!” before it’s silent. 

You have one heel on when Dick emerges.

He’s unfairly handsome in his tux, hair somehow both neat and tousled. He also has what looks to be Damian’s tie wrapped around his eyes. You step out of your heel, unsure.

"Hey, sweetheart," he says, sounding genuinely apologetic. "Sorry about that. Didn't mean to scare you."

"It’s okay, baby. Why are you blindfolded?"

"Bad luck to see the bride, duh."

You can't help your idiotic grin at that. "I think it'll be fine, Gray. You didn’t have to take his tie.”

"Maybe you haven't met my family; we're not known for our good luck streaks.”

"I'm madly in love with you,” you say, feeling gooey.

Dick beams, and you nearly forget about the sunset altogether. 

"I'm madly in love with you too." 

You kiss him and he blindly returns it, following your lips even after you step back. You cluck your tongue and nudge him away. He obeys, though not without sliding his hand onto your waist and tugging you away from the roof. You follow because he's such a worrier.

Dick reaches for your hand and squeezes. 

"You okay?" he asks.

"Yeah. Sorry I disappeared. I didn’t know the calvary would be sent after me.”

“Yeah, uh…” Dick rubs the back of his neck. “Sorry about that. Again. I got worried.”

The guilt sinks its claws deeper. You frown and touch his cheek. 

“I would never leave you at the altar, Dick.”

“I know! I know that. They’re idiots; don’t listen to ‘em, whatever they said."

You cup his face with both hands and kiss him again. He squeezes your wrists and you can feel the relief rolling off him in waves, as much as he tries to hide it. 

“Was my absence noticeable?” you ask.

"Just to us. Don’t worry about it. The Wayne family are professional crowd entertainers."

"I take it Bruce is doing card tricks?"

"Yep,” Dick says. “He’s pretty good too. Might retire the suit." 

You laugh. "Sorry I'm missing it."

"Trust me, you'll get your fill soon."

“We can go down now,” you offer, even though you’re still waiting for that sunset. 

He shakes his head. “There’s no rush.”

You smile and rest your head on Dick's shoulder. He accepts you instantly and wraps his arm around your waist.

"You feel really beautiful," he says. 

"Charmer."

"I'm serious!"

"I know. That's why I'm so damn sweet on you, Gray."

"I've got a shot with you, then?" he asks. 

"Oh, big time." 

He nuzzles your neck. You breathe in his scent: wine from earlier, detergent, the hair gel he uses to effortlessly capture the bed head look. 

"We didn't have to do this today, you know,” he says, voice vibrating through you. 

You pick your head up in alarm. 

"What're you talking about?" 

"If-if you're getting cold feet, I mean," he adds. "Second thoughts. We can always reschedule."

"Dick, no, I'm not getting second thoughts. I want to marry you today. I will marry you, okay? We've been together for almost four years."

"So? You know how long Batman and Catwoman have been skirting around each other? We've all got a wager going. Including Alfred!"

You snort. "Okay, well, excuse me if I don't want your family to bet on how long it's going to take us to marry."

"Afraid that ship's sailed."

"Of course it has."

You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him in. His arms drape over your hips. You trace the shape of his lips with your index, up his Cupid's bow and up the tip of his nose. Dick has such a lovely nose. You've always thought so. 

“So who bet that I’d actually made a run for it?”

“That feels like a trick question,” he says. 

“Jason?"

“Jason adores you, actually. He didn’t doubt your loyalty once.”

“Damian had his doubts." 

“Damian's thirteen, he doesn’t know shit.”

You snort and kiss his cheek. “Well, I forgive him. He was protecting you, that’s all.”

"If it helps, everyone else was certain of your loyalty," Dick says, letting you paw at his face. “Myself included.”

"That does help, actually.”

Dick stops your hand in its journey and rests your palm on his cheek. 

"What were you thinking about?" he asks quietly. 

You stiffen a little. "Nothing. Just needed some air."

"You sure?" 

You know what he's doing: feeling your pulse to see if it changes, listening to your breathing, watching if your shoulders tense. He's a detective first, and a damn good one. 

You slump in defeat. 

"What if I'm not… good at this? At being… us?”

"What?" Dick asks in disbelief. "What are you talking about? Of course you’ll be good at it. The real worry is me, babe. I mean, you're incredible. I'm the one who runs around in spandex at night." 

"Gray, I'm serious," you say, resting your head on his heart. "All those people who’ve been watching us, waiting for the future Mrs. Grayson to slip up. I just—I can't help but wonder if it's prophetic. I wonder if maybe you deserve more." 

"Hey. Now I can't predict the future. But even if I could, I don't believe there is a timeline out there where I could ever want or need anyone but you. And you're not alone in this, you know? I'm scared too. I'm terrified I'm putting you in danger. Of fucking up completely. But I also know that sometimes… we get good things, you know? It's not all doom and gloom. I mean, you being in my life is proof of that." 

God, he always knows how to make your heart ache just right. 

"I really want us to work," you whisper, clutching his suit coat. "I just don't wanna let you down, Gray." 

"Baby," Dick says, curling around you. "Sweetheart, where did this come from? What makes you think that? You've never let me down, not once. I love you. It's okay if you feel like you don't know what you're doing, 'cause I don't know either." 

You reach to untie the tie. Dick lightly grabs your hand, but you continue to tug anyway. 

"Wait, babe—"

"Dick, it's okay. I want to see your eyes. Please?" 

He lets you pull it off. He squints at the light, adjusting. Then his gaze drops to you and his lips part.

"Wow," Dick says, hands sliding up your arms. 

You smile. "Like it? Selina helped me pick the dress, so it's all thanks to her."

"Fuck, baby. I wanna marry you right now. Screw everyone down there. Let's elope."

You laugh, combing back his hair with your fingertips and tucking loose strands behind his ears. 

"Gray, you know we can't do that. What about Bruce? He'd be devastated and more than rightfully pissed."

He shrugs. "So what? I'm the favorite, I can get away with it."

"Well, what about Alfred? You'd break his heart."

Dick pauses, mulling that over. You kiss his chin. 

"Damn it," he says. "You're right. I couldn't do that to him. He's arguably more excited about our wedding than we are." 

"Mmhm. But I appreciate your attempt to be spontaneously romantic," you say, smiling. 

Dick tugs you closer still, rubbing your back. 

"I would elope," he says. "If you really wanted to. You could convince me to do just about anything. Even if it unleashed Alfie's wrath."

"Don't tell me that," you chide playfully. "You'll give a girl all sorts of notions." 

"Oh, I'm counting on it."

Dick starts to kiss up your neck and you happily let him, eyes slipping closed. It's good, until—

THUMP!

You jump. Dick immediately pushes you behind him. 

The roof access door swings out so hard it slams against the wall. Jason glares, bowtie already loosened. 

"Are you fucking kidding me? You're gonna miss your own wedding, dumbass!" He nods at you. "Hey, future sis. Looking good." 

"Thanks, Todd." 

"Mm. Everything okay?" 

You smile. "Everything's wonderful."

"Yeah, I'm okay too, thanks," Dick says, scowling. 

"I know you're fine, idiot. Now come put a ring on it before Alfred hunts you down himself." 

Jason turns on his heel, shaking his head. "Responsible one, my ass…"

You look at Dick, grinning. 

"Seems like we should go do the marriage thing," you say.

"Seems like." He squeezes your hip. "Do you feel better?"

"Yeah, Gray. I do. Thanks. I love you."

"Love you too, baby. Let's go marry the hell out of each other." 

The sunset has morphed into a violet night. But you don't mind that you missed it; you know there will be countless sunsets to come. 

[bet-on-me-13]

Lois Lane is actually Ellie Phantom

Idea came from a comment @ourrechte-blog made on This post

So, back when Ellie was traveling the world, she saw quite a few things that she really didn't like. War Crimes, Humans Rights Violations, Poverty, etc.

And she really wanted to draw some attention to those problems, but she knew that as some random kid those stories would never receive the press they deserved. So she decided to Become the press instead.

She went back to Danny, who was also on the run, and they both got new Identities. Danny became Sam "Daniel" Lane, and Ellie became Lois "Ellie" Lane. (Also she reverted to her true age, so the ages matched up)

Ellie, now Lois, began to go to School so she could establish her new identity. Eventually, she managed to get to College, Graduated, and got a Job at the biggest newpaper she could, the Daily Planet.

She was now living her best life. She was a credited reporter, her dad was a Military General, and she was spreading the word about all the problems in the world that often got overlooked.

Then, one day, Lois met a really nice guy named Clark Kent. He was such a sweetheart, and had such a kind personality. She was immediately smitten.

Even Danny liked him, and Danny barely liked anyone for fear of them hurting his daughter.

And it got even better when she figured out that he was Superman, a Superhero just like her dad used to be. She proved it when she jumped off of the roof of the Daily Planet and he caught her. (She was never in danger, she can fly too. But she did decide that even if he wasn't superman, she trusted him enough to tell him that she had powers)

They got married, and one day Clark came home looking disturbed about something.

Apparently he just found out that a company called Cadmus had tried to Clone him.

She was not happy when he told her that he didn't want to accept the kid.

"Clark. So help me Ancients, if you left that poor boy alone and rejected him after he did nothing wrong I am going to string you up by your toenails and let my Uncle Fright go to town on you with his Magic Sword!"

"I-I know what I did was wrong honey, but why are you so angry about it?!"

"Clark, I'm also a Clone! You know I don't have a Mom, how did you never ask my dad or me about that!?"

"I thought he was dead or something! I'm sorry!"

"We'll talk about this later, let's go talk to that poor kid."

"Yes ma'am."

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Crossroad Blues | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Warnings: canon gore, canon violence, imposter syndrome, discussing grief and parental death

Word Count: 4935

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You sighed heavily as you pulled up a photo of Dean’s mugshot from the St. Louis Police Department. “Well, you’ve got a warrant out in St. Louis, and now, you're officially in the feds’ database.”

Dean grinned at you across the diner table. “Dude, I'm like Dillinger or something.”

“Dean, it’s not funny,” you scolded. “We’re fucked if we’re not careful.”

“Well, what do they got on you two?” Dean looked between you and Sam.

Sam muttered, “I'm sure they just haven't posted it yet.”

“No accessory? Nothing?” Dean chuckled.

“Shut up,” Sam grumbled.

The older brother laughed. “You're jealous.”

“Why the fuck would he be jealous, Dean?” you hissed.

Dean seemed caught off-guard. “Whoa, sweetheart, relax—”

“No, this is serious, man,” you replied, taking a deep breath to calm your nerves. “Dee, I was completely off the grid before I met you. Now, we all got arrested— thankfully, Diana’s getting our mugshots and prints wiped from Baltimore— but I’m undocumented! My mom told me she gave birth to me in a motel room. This was after my parents had already been ‘missing’ for years. My brother and I have no birth certificates, I don’t have social security, I don’t have insurance, I don’t have a real driver’s license— they can book me for that reason alone. I’m fucked. You didn’t kill anyone. They actually have legitimate reason to book me.”

Dean’s plucky attitude dropped, and he turned around, slightly angry. “Look, I’m sorry, I didn’t ask for any of this. I didn’t exactly plan on getting arrested. And I’m sorry it screwed you over, okay? Chill out.”

You glared at him. “ ‘Chill out’?” You chuckled coldly. “ ‘Chill out,’ he says. I wouldn’t be as angry if you weren’t making stupid jokes.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop, okay? Jeez.”

Sam huffed. “Okay!” He slid papers between you and Dean who were scowling at each other. “Architect Sean Boyden plummeted to his death from the roof of his home, a condominium he designed.”

Dean looked away from you and down at the paper, but you kept your eyes trained on him. “Hmm. Build a high-rise and jump off the top of it. That's classy. When did he call animal control?” Dean questioned.

“Two days earlier,” answered Sam.

“Did he actually say Black Dog?”

“Yeah. A vicious, wild, black dog. The authorities couldn't find it, no one else saw it; in fact, the authorities are a little confused as to how a wild dog could get past the doorman, take the elevator up and start roaming the halls of the cushiest joint in town. After that, no more calls, he doesn't show up for work, two days later he takes a swan dive.”

“Do you think we're dealing with an actual Black Dog?” the older brother asked.

“Well, maybe,” Sam shrugged.

“What's the lore on it?”

The brunet slid another page over to Dean. “It's all pretty vague. I mean, there are spectral black dogs all over the world, but some say they're animal spirits, others say death omens. But anyways, whatever they are, they're big; nasty.”

“Yeah, I bet they could hump the crap outta your leg,; ook at that one, huh?” He held up a picture and smirked at his brother. 

Sam glared at him.

Dean’s smirk slipped. “What? They could.”

Sam got up from the table and began heading out of the door. You followed Sam quickly. Dean grabbed your arm and spun you back around.

“What, Dean?” you snapped.

He shrank under your glare. “Look, I— I’m sorry, okay?”

You dropped the tension in your shoulders. “Yeah, me, too. I just— I worry about you. And you guys completely turned my life upside-down when you walked into it. And everything’s changing so fast; it’s kinda scary.”

Dean nodded as he started walking. “I get it. If it makes you feel any better, you’re changing my life, too.”

You looked over at him and smiled softly. He couldn’t quite meet your eyes after that admission.

***

You and the brothers interviewed the deceased’s former business partner, and the man seemed a little bitter. Apparently, Sean Boyden was a terrible architect around ten years ago. Then, suddenly, he was in Architectural Digest. A piece of information he gave you, though, aside from his bitterness, was that Boyden used to bartend at Lloyd’s before his overnight success.

Then, you went to the animal protection agency to gather information on complaints or phone calls about a Black Dog. You were the one who went in to gather intel because you weren’t willing to take the chance of Dean being recognized from the St. Louis APB. You got back in the car and explained to the brothers what you’d found out. You held up the complaints list you’d gotten from the secretary. “Every complaint called in this week about anything big, black, and dog-like. There's nineteen calls; all from Dr. Sylvia Pearlman.”

You headed to the woman’s home to interrogate her, only to find that the woman had disappeared two days ago.

“Hi, we’re Animal Control,” you told the woman who opened the door. “We’re looking for Dr. Sylvia Pearlman?”

“The Doctor— well, she— I don't know exactly when she'll be back, she left two days ago,” she said.

“Okay, and you are…?” Sam asked.

“I'm Ms. Pearlman's maid,” she introduced. “I’m not sure where she went. She just packed and left; she didn't say where. That stray dog: did you find it finally?” 

“Oh, not yet. You know, you didn't ever happen to see the dog yourself, did you?” Sam questioned.

She shook her head. “Well, no. I never even heard it.”

There were pictures on the wall of a brunette woman appearing in all of the photographs who you deduced was Dr. Pearlman. A picture that caught your attention was the woman at a bar with two friends. You turned back to the maid. “Hey, you know I read she was chief surgeon at the hospital. She's gotta be what, forty-two, forty-three? That's pretty young for that job.”

“Youngest in the history of the place. She got the position... ten years ago?” the maid thought aloud.

“Huh, an overnight success. Ten years ago,” Sam nodded.

“Yeah, we know a guy like that.” Dean clicked his tongue.

“Oh, look at this,” you said. You flipped the photo from the wall over to show the writing on the back. “Lloyd’s bar.”

*** The bar was your next stop. It was pretty much in the middle of nowhere, and you and the boys parked close to the gravel intersection.

Dean noticed something on the side of the road, and called to you and Sam, “Hey,” to get your attention.

“Yeah?” Sam questioned.

He nodded in the direction of yellow flowers growing around the edges of the crossroads. “That's weird. Think someone planted these?”

“Middle of all these weeds?” Sam questioned.

“These are, uh, what do you call 'em—” Dean snapped his fingers, trying to think.

“Yarrow flowers,” you noted.

“Yeah,” the older brother nodded. “Used for certain rituals, aren't they?”

“Yeah, actually,” Sam commented. “Summoning rituals.”

You tsked. “So, two people become sudden successes about ten years ago. Right around the time they were hanging out here at Lloyd's. Where there just so happens to be a crossroads.”

“You think?” Sam turned to you.

“Let's find out,” Dean said and started toward the center of the road. He bent over and looked up at you. “This seem about the dead center to you?”

You looked around a few moments before looking back at him and nodding. 

Dean dug a few inches into the hard soil with his hands and hit something solid. 

“Yahtzee.” He found an old Altoid tin and opened it to reveal several occult objects and a picture of an older man you hadn’t seen thus far on this hunt. 

“Holy shit, that’s graveyard dirt and a black cat bone. That’s… crazy Hoodoo spellwork,” you breathed out. “Used to summon a demon.”

“Not just summon one. Crossroads are where pacts are made. These people are actually making deals with the damn thing. You know, 'cause that always ends good,” Dean deadpanned.

“They're seeing dogs, alright,” Sam added. “But not Black Dogs, they're seeing Hellhounds. Demonic pit bulls.”

“You guys ever come across this stuff before? I’ve only read about it,” you said, looking between the boys.

“No, never,” Dean replied. “Whoever this demon is, it's back, and it's collecting. And that doctor lady? Wherever she's running? She ain't running fast enough.”

“So, it's just like the Robert Johnson legend, right? I mean, selling your soul at the crossroads, kind of deal?” questioned Sam.

“Yeah, except that wasn't a legend. I mean, you know his music,” you nodded.

Sam shrugged.

Dean looked at his brother, stunned. “You don't know Robert Johnson's songs? Sam, there's- there's occult references all over his lyrics, I mean, 'Crossroad Blues'? 'Me and the Devil Blues'?”

“ 'Hellhound on My Trail'?” you added.

Sam frowned, and Dean rolled his eyes. “The story goes, he died choking on his own blood. He was hallucinating and muttering about big, evil dogs.”

“And now it's happening all over again,” Sam said. “We've gotta figure out if anyone else struck any bargains around here.”

Dean groaned. “Great. So we've gotta clean up these peoples' mess for 'em? I mean, they're not exactly squeaky clean. Nobody put a gun to their head and forced 'em to play ‘Let's Make A Deal’.”

“So, what, we should just leave them to die?” scoffed the younger brother.

“Somebody goes over Niagara in a barrel, you gonna jump in and try to save 'em?” the older one deadpanned.

“Dean,” you scolded gently.

“Fine,” he murmured. “Rituals like this, you've got to put your own photo into the mix, right? So this guy probably summoned this thing; let's go and see if anyone inside knows him. If he's still alive.”

***

The man’s name turned out to be George Darrow. He was the first person to summon the demon to Lloyd’s. Unfortunately for him, all he asked for was artistic talent; he had forgotten to ask for the recognition for it. His small studio apartment was littered with paintings; some half-finished and some completed. They were incredible. 

“Was it worth it?” you asked him.

“Hell no. I'm still broke and lonely. Just now I got this pile of paintings don't nobody want. But that wasn't the worst.”

Your heart broke a little for him. 

“Go on,” encouraged Sam.

“Demon didn't leave. I never counted on that,” he muttered. “After our deal was done, the damn thing stayed at Lloyd's for a week. Just chattin'. Makin' more deals. I tried to warn folks, but I mean, who's goin' to listen to an old drunk?”

“How many others are there?” questioned Sam.

“Uh, the architect, that doctor lady— I kept up with them, they've been in the papers. Least they got famous,” George scoffed. “One more. Uh, nice guy, too. Hudson. Evan, I think. I don't know what he asked for. Don't matter now. We done for.”

Sam shook his head. “No. No, there's gotta be a way.”

“You don't get it! I don't want a way!” George suddenly yelled. “I called that thing! I brought it on myself. I brought it on them. I'm going to hell, one way or another. All I want is to finish my last painting. Day or two, I'm done. I'm just trying to hold them off 'till then. Buy a little time." He sighed. "Okay, kids. Time you went, go help somebody that wants help.”

You and the brothers hesitated.

“Get out! I got work to do.”

“Mr. Darrow, could I—?” you started.

“What?! What do you want,” he spat.

“I just wanted to know if I could buy one of your paintings,” you said. “That little one over there.” You pointed to a small canvas, no bigger than a piece of printer paper. It was of a skull on a nun’s body with what looked like ectoplasm dripping from her eyes. The linework and blending of the oil paint was incredible. You were truly in love with it and had been eyeing it since you walked into the room.

“I don’t want your pity money, kid. But thanks,” he told you.

“I’m serious, I really do want it. I don’t wanna buy it off you out of pity,” you protested.

He considered, before nodding. “Just take it, kid.”

“Mr. Darrow—”

He couldn’t look at you as he spoke. “Take it. It’s payment enough that someone wants one of my paintings.”

Your heart broke for him even more, and you hugged the painting to your chest when he handed it to you. 

Sam paused before speaking again. “You don't really want to die.”

George turned back to you one last time. “I don't? I'm... I'm tired.”

You bit the inside of your lip to keep yourself from crying as you left the man painting in his room.

You stored the painting in your bag when you returned to the Impala, and you couldn’t bring yourself to talk as you drove to the Hudsons’ house to find the last crossroads victim.

***

You and the Winchesters rolled to a stop in front of a very nice house. You knocked on the door to reveal Evan Hudson moments later. “Yes?” he said, seeming shaken.

“You ever been to a bar called Lloyd's? Would have been about ten years ago.” Dean cut straight to the chase.

Evan startled and slammed the door in your faces. You heard the latch click in place.

“Come on, we're not demons!” Dean called.

“Any other bright ideas?” Sam deadpanned. 

Dean stepped back, set himself, then kicked the door in in one go. Your breath hitched in your throat at the sight, and you mentally scolded yourself. ‘You sick fuck, we’re on a case.’

You followed the brothers into the home and began searching through the rooms for Evan. You found a door closed at the end of the hallway, and Dean went to kick it in again. You stopped him by catching his leg. You turned the handle and pushed the door open gently. The room was completely silent as you entered. “Evan?” you called.

Evan jumped out from behind a bookcase, holding his hands up. “Please! Don't hurt me.”

Sam attempted to pacify him. “We're not going to hurt you, alright? We're here to help you.”

“We know all about the genius deal you made,” Dean gruffly said. 

Evan looked frantically between the three of you. “What? How?”

“Doesn't matter. All that matters is, we're trying to stop it,” Sam replied.

The man flicked his eyes between you and the brothers nervously. “How do I know you're not lying?”

Dean clicked his tongue. “Well, you don't, but you're kinda running low on options there, buddy-boy.”

Evan swallowed harshly and started pacing. “Can you stop it?”

“Don't know,” you said earnestly. “We'll try.”

“I don’t wanna die,” he muttered, beginning to well up with tears.

Dean’s tone was almost mocking. “Of course, you don't, not now.”

You gently grabbed Dean’s wrist. “Dean, stop.”

He continued, ignoring you. “What'd you ask for anyway, Evan? Huh? Never need Viagra? Bowl a perfect game? What?”

“My wife.”

The older brother laughed coldly. “Right. Gettin' the girl. Well, that's worth a trip to hell for.”

“Dean!” you and Sam chided, more firmly this time.

“No. He's right, I made the deal,” Evan sniffed. “Nobody twisted my arm, that… woman, or whatever she was, at the bar? She said I could have anything I wanted. I thought she was nuts at first, but— I don't know how to— I was desperate.”

“Desperate?” Sam questioned.

“Julie was dying,” he lamented.

Dean suddenly softened. “You did it to save her?”

Evan nodded. “She had cancer, they'd stopped treatment, they were moving her into hospice, they kept saying… a matter of days. So yeah, I made the deal. And I'd do it again. I'd have died for her on the spot.”

“Did you ever think about her in all this?” Dean questioned.

“I did this for her,” Evan protested.

Dean advanced on him, ripping his arm out of your hand. “You sure about that? I think you did it for yourself. So you wouldn't have to live without her. But guess what? She's going to have to live without you now. But what if she knew how much it cost? What if she knew it cost your soul? How do you think she'd feel?”

You put a hand on Dean’s chest and pushed him backward. “Knock it off,” you told him, giving him a sharp look.

Sam turned to Evan. “You just sit tight, alright? We're going to figure this out.”

You followed Dean out into the hallway. “What is your deal, man? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, why wouldn't I be? Hey, I got an idea.” He pulled out the goofer dust you’d gotten from George Darrow. “You and Sam throw George's hoodoo at that Hellhound, keep it away from Evan as long as you can. I'm gonna go to the crossroads and summon the demon.”

“Wait, summon?! Are you nuts?!” you protested. “I’m coming with you.”

“No,” he said firmly. “You can’t. I won’t let you, okay? I can’t handle this properly if I’m worried about you.”

You looked up at him with sad eyes.

He put his hands on either side of your shoulders. “(Y/N), I can trap it. I can exorcise it, and I can buy us time to figure out something more permanent.”

Sam walked up behind you. “Yeah, but how much time?”

“I don't know, a while. I mean, it's not easy for those suckers to claw their way back from hell and into the sunshine,” Dean chuckled.

“Dean, you can forget it, alright?” Sam argued. “I'm not letting you summon that demon.”

“Why not?” Dean grumbled.

“Because I don't like where your head is at right now, that's why not.”

“What are you talking about?” Dean scoffed.

“You know, you've been on edge ever since we found that crossroads, Dean, and I think I know why,” Sam noted.

Dean turned around. “We don't have time for this.” 

Sam was able to stop him with a single word. “Dad. You think maybe Dad made one of these deals, huh? Hell. I've been thinking it. I'm sure you've been thinking it, too.”

Dean didn’t turn back to face you and his brother, but quietly said, “It fits, doesn't it? I'm alive, Dad's dead. The yellow-eyed demon was involved. What if he did? What if he struck a deal? My life for his soul?”

Evan called back from inside the room behind you. “It’s outside!”

“Just keep him alive, okay?” Dean instructed. 

“Dean!” you called.

“Go!”

You steeled yourself and turned back to the office Evan was in. You took a bag of Goofer dust from Sam and began covering the window sills and doors. Sam made a circle around Evan while you worked.

“What is that stuff?” Evan asked.

“Goofer dust,” Sam replied.

“You serious?” he scoffed.

“Yeah. 'Fraid so. Look. Believe me, don't believe me, whatever you want. Just whatever you do, stay inside the circle, alright?”

You looked back to see Evan nodding. He began to hug himself, standing in the middle of the circle just as you and Sam finished coating the room.

Sam shook his bag out. “That’s the last of it.”

You paced around the room, Bowie knife in hand, as Sam tried to comfort Evan. All you could think about was Dean with the crossroads demon, and you prayed to a god you didn’t believe in that he wouldn’t make any stupid deals.

You knew how much his dad’s death was tearing him apart. You knew that even in that moment with him after he’d just woken up next to you in the apartment back in Philadelphia, his heart wasn’t fully there. You wished you could take away that pain for him. 

“(Y/N), are you trying to increase your step-count or something?” Sam asked you.

You barely registered his snarky question. “What?”

“You’re pacing. Like, a lot.”

“Thank you, Captain Obvious,” you said.

“God, you and Dean were made for each other.” Sam shook his head, chuckling slightly.

You deadpanned at him. “Shut up.”

Evan whirled around at something you couldn’t hear or see.

“What?” Sam asked him.

“You hear that?” Evan asked. 

“Hear what?” you questioned. “Where is it?”

“Right outside the door,” Evan said quietly.

Suddenly, the doors began to rattle violently. Sam stepped inside the circle of goofer dust, but you stayed outside of it, gripping your bowie knife tightly.

“Just don't move, alright?” Sam told Evan. “Stay where you are.”

The rattling droned on for several minutes before it stopped suddenly.

“Do you still hear it?” Sam asked.

“No. Is it over?” Evan breathed out.

You whipped around to the sound of rumbling from a grate nailed to the wall. You stared it down until it burst off the wall, kicking dust from the vent into the room.

“It's here!” Evan exclaimed.

Deep claw marks gouged into the floor up to the circle, and they stopped just before the edge. The hellhounds had apparently completely ignored you, but you tempted fate by pissing them off. You dug your bowie knife into where you thought the back of one of the creatures was.

“(Y/N), what the fuck are you doing?!” Sam yelled. 

You cried out in pain as an invisible force slashed at your leg. Deep claw marks appeared on your thigh, ripping through your jeans. 

“(Y/N), no!” Sam screamed.

You slashed at your leg with your knife and hit something solid. 

“(Y/N), get inside the circle, you maniac!” Sam chided.

“Trying!” you replied, pulling the knife out of the solid thing you’d hit. Nothing seemed to work on the hellhounds, though, and your knife only stalled them momentarily. You crawled, scrambling over to the circle, careful not to disrupt it as the hounds got one last lash in at your leg. You sat back against Sam’s legs, holding your leg and breathing through your teeth.

“Jesus, (Y/N/N), are you okay?” Sam asked.

“Sammy, do I look okay?” you groaned, trying to keep still on the floor despite the pain in your right thigh and left calf.

He paused for a moment. “Fair point.”

The windows flew open, disrupting the Goofer dust that had been laid on the window sill and slowly beginning to blow the dust away from around you, Sam, and Evan.

“Circle's broken. Come on!” Sam pulled you and Evan.

“Sam, take him! Go!” You threw your knife at him and stayed in the slowly breaking circle, and Sam obliged. You stayed on the ground, praying that the hellhounds would leave you alone. Thankfully, they did, and you tried to recollect the dust and build the particles up around yourself. Sam had long since sprinted out of the room with Evan in tow, and the scratches on the floor led out of the room and down the hall. 

You sat like that for a while, crying and in pain. You knew you needed to stop the bleeding on your thigh as it was bleeding way more profusely than your calf. You took your button-down off and wrapped it around your leg tightly. You threw your head back, chest heaving, at the pressure around the wound. You pulled your sock up around your calf to try and collect the bleeding there.

You could hear rattling from down the hall, and wished you could do something more to help. Suddenly, the pounding stopped.

“Sam?!” you called.

“(Y/N)! You okay?”

“Yeah, are you?”

“Yeah!”

“Is it over?” 

You considered for a moment before calling back, “I don’t know! I fucking hope so!”

You could hear Sam laughing getting louder and the sound of a door creaking. You assumed he was hesitantly checking the hallway out to see if he could make it back to you. “I think we’re good,” he called.

“Thank god,” you breathed out. You tried to stand, only to fall back on the ground almost immediately. “Fuck.”

Sam entered the office. “Shit, you’re bleeding a lot… uh—” He pulled out his phone. “Dean, Dean, is it over?... Yeah, yeah, he’s fine. It’s (Y/N) I’m worried about… No, no, she’s okay— for now, at least.”

���Hey!” you called. “I’m fine, Sam, really.”

“Oh, yeah? Try standing up, then,” he deadpanned at you.

You went to move but reconsidered at the throbbing in your leg. 

“That’s what I thought.” He turned back to his phone. “She tried to take on a hellhound… Yeah, yeah, okay. Just… get here. As fast as you can. And bring her bag. I know she’s got the first aid stuff in there.”

Evan reentered the room as Sam hung up the phone. “Holy shit!” Evan cried worriedly. “Is she—? Does she need a doctor? Hold on, I’ll call 911—”

“Don’t you dare, Evan,” you protested firmly, glare pinning him to the spot. “I’ll be fine. I just need to stitch myself up, ‘s all.”

***

When Dean arrived about fifteen minutes later, he was furious. “(Y/N), what the hell were you thinking?” He stormed into the room with your duffel bag in his hand. 

“Dean, I’m fine. Gimme the damn bag—”

He slammed it roughly on the ground, sitting next to you. “Let me see.”

You hesitated but unwrapped your leg upon Dean giving you a harsh look. 

He cursed under his breath when he saw your leg. “Fuck, (Y/N)...”

“Just let me stitch it up, I’ll be fine—”

“No,” he gruffly stated. “I’ve got it.”

Sam looked between you and Dean before taking Evan out of the room to calm him down. 

Dean began threading the needle. You sucked in air through your teeth. “Tell me what happened. How’d you stop it?” You were asking him to distract you.

He looked up at you, still angry, but complied anyway. “I cornered the bitch and made her let him out of his deal.” 

You paused, waiting for more. “And?”

He said, “And nothing.” And began to work on your leg.

“Dean,” you pleaded, grabbing his wrist. “Talk to me, please. Talk me through this.”

He seemed to soften when he saw how much pain you were in. He took a deep breath as he tried his best to stitch you up gently. “She, um, she said my dad’s in hell. And… And he did make a deal. And she told me—” he paused, eyes welling with tears, “She told me she knows how torn up I am about it all. She told me she could bring him back, (Y/N/N).”

Your breath caught in your throat, no longer focused on the needle piercing your skin. “What?”

“Yeah.”

“Dean, don’t tell me—” Tears welled in your eyes. 

“No. But…” he paused, tying off one stitch before moving to start the other one. 

“But?” you pressed.

“I sure as hell thought about it.”

Your stomach dropped. “Don’t you fucking do that to me, Dean. Dee, look at me.” You grabbed his face and forced him to look at you. “You cannot fucking give up. I won’t let you.” 

He turned his attention back to your wounds, moving to the last claw mark on your thigh. 

“I know you’re hurting,” you sniffed. “I know his death is killing you. It kills me to see you like this. But I’m not— ah!” You cried out when one of his stitches accidentally went too deep into your thigh. He looked at you apologetically as you continued to talk. “I’m not gonna let you trade places with your dad. You’re here for a reason. Your dad loved you enough to keep you here. And what you told Evan earlier? Have you even considered how much it would kill me if you were gone?! And Sam? Both of us would be crushed. You matter, Dean. Sam needs you.”

“(Y/N)—” he tried to stop your admissions as he finished wrapping your leg.

“No, dude. You need to hear this. I need to tell you this. I need you here, Dean. You’re my best friend. How do you think I’d feel if you were gone?”

He faced you. “I can’t— I can’t keep living like this.”

“And you won’t,” you said. “I know it’s cheesy, but it gets better. You won’t always dread waking up every day. You won’t always blame yourself. That’s just today.”

He shook his head. “How do you know that?”

You sighed. “Listen, both of us blame ourselves as the reason our dads are dead. And no matter how much I tell you that’s wrong, you’ll never believe me. Same way I’ll never believe you. And it hurts. I won’t lie to you. It fucking hurts for a while. But then… it gets better. Time and… the people in your life… make it better.”

He stared at you with sad eyes, unsure of what to say.

“And I know you don’t believe me right now, but… please, please, just trust me,” you begged.

Dean continued to stare at you, not saying anything, before standing up from the floor next to you. “C’mon, we gotta get back on the road.”

You sighed, trying to stand from the floor.

“Oh, fuck, I forgot,” he chuckled awkwardly, making you giggle. He swept you up in his arms and looked down at you with a gaze you couldn’t quite read. Dean then stared out ahead as he effortlessly carried you the rest of the way to the car. 

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

[meguwumibear]

cant stop thinking about fake dating monoma....

"You're asking me out?" he laughs. Monoma laughs with his whole body. Mouth. Stomach. Hands. He uses them all as he insults you. "My how the mighty have fallen."

You roll your eyes with an exacerbated sigh. Motherfucker never did listen to much other than the sound of his own voice. Selective hearing. Shinsou tried to warn you. Monoma hears only what he wants to.

"I'm pretending to ask you out, dipshit," you clarify. "To boost our stats."

The plan seemed reasonable enough when you first hatched it. The public loves to stick their upturned noses into the private lives of heroes. The more a hero discloses, the higher their rank. Correlation and causation or whatever-the-fuck your PR team said. You need some press. You need to leak something juicy. Hence, fake dating Monoma. It's foolproof, isn't it? Now that you've actually pitched the thing to the smug bastard, you're not so sure.

"How's dating you gonna boost my stats exactly?" he asks.

"Well, for one I out rank you," you say, eager to throw that in his face. "Hanging around with someone in the top thirty is bound to increase your position. The top spots aren't determined solely by number of saves and take downs. It's a fucking popularity contest, and we're competing for a crown."

"Hmm, hmm, hmmmmm," Monoma hums as he theatrically taps his pointer finger against his chin in faux contemplation. God damn you picked the absolute worst person to fake date. Should've gone with the perverted grape guy instead. Little fucker probably would've jumped at the opportunity to call himself your boyfriend.

"I don't have all day, Monoma," you say. "You in or you out?"

He flashes you a disgustingly cheeky grin. The smile is all teeth and absent of any semblance of sincerity.

"Oh, I suppose I could be swayed," he relents. "If.......," a pregnant pause for dramatic effect. Typical, "the fake girlfriend package comes with real girlfriend privileges."

You raise an inquiring eyebrow at him. If the smarmy git wants sex he can ask for it like the grown ass man he is instead of alluding to it like some high school brat.

"I am of course referring to sexual intercourse," he oh-so helpfully clarifies. "Including, but not limited to-"

"Yeah, yeah," you say with a wave of your hand to shut him up. If you have to listen to the end of that sentence you might end up punting him off the roof. "Whatever you want."

Monoma's eyebrows disappear behind his poorly styled emo bangs that he never aged out of. "Whatever I want?" he parrots. "God, you're just as desperate as the rest of them without the numbers to back you up. Think the Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight would result to such petty tricks?"

"Yes or no, Monoma," you huff, pressing at your temples to stem an impending tidal wave of a headache. "If you're above this maybe I'll ask the Great Explosion Murder God himself."

Monoma's eyes darken at that, despite the fact that he only has himself to blame for putting the idea in your head.

To his credit, Monoma collects himself quickly and shoves his phone in your hands.

"Number and addy," he says. "I'm staying with Kendo so my place is OOTQ for R-rated content. I'll swing by yours after my patrol tonight for a trial run. I'm guessing you can afford to live alone. based on your rank, number thirty."

"What fucking trial run?" you ask as you add your contact to his phone. You throw in a red heart emoji too, before replacing it with a peach, tongue, and water emoji instead. The pretend relationship needs to look real and there's no way in hell Monoma's the romantic type.

He smirks as he snatches his phone back from you.

"Figure I'm entitled to a seven day free trial before I actually subscribe. It's just good costumer service. Even that prick Bezo's knows it. Don't tell me the aspiring number one hero has less ethics than that capitalistic pig?"

"Oh for fuck's sake," you spit. "Fine. What the hell. Not like I want to be stuck fucking you if your dick game's mid. Swing by tonight. Bring your tiny cock and that bratty attitude of yours. Might be nice to fuck it out of you."

Monoma's grin is borderline predatory. His mouth is open wide enough to expose the sharp tips of his teeth again, and they look like they're just itching to bite. He leans over the table to whisper his next few words in your ear.

"My dick's not tiny," he says, before excusing himself. Then, as he turns to leave, "And I won't be the one getting the brat fucked out of them tonight. See you soon, love."

He disappears around the corner with one last wave of his hand, and you can't help but wonder what the actual fuck you've just gotten yourself into.

[silent-stories]

𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐒

Pairing: Eddie x GN!Reader

Summary: Eddie is not scared of thunderstorms after what happened in the Upside Down. Not at all.

It had started raining several hours before and the drizzle quickly turned into a thunderstorm. The wind was blowing hard and slapping the twigs of the tree in front of your house on your bedroom window.

Rain poured down on the roof and from time to time the sound of thunder rumbled throughout the whole house.

The night sky outside was dark, with no moon or stars.

You were on your bed, Eddie was sitting with his back against the headboard, his arm was around your waist, your head was resting on his chest and your face was pressed into his Black Sabbath shirt.

About half an hour earlier you had started watching a movie but then you were distracted by cuddling and because of the noise of the rain and thunder drowning out the voices coming from the small tv in your room.

You had turned off the TV a few minutes before, deciding you'd rather focus on Eddie and his hand slowly stroking your side.

A crashing thunder rumbled in your ears and you thought the lightning didn't have to have fallen very far from you to cause such a din.

Suddenly, you felt Eddie's hand on yours, it wouldn't be the first time he'd start playing with your fingers or your rings in a moment of calm and intimacy like that.

Instead, that time his hand found yours to hold it and intertwine his fingers with yours.

You smiled sinking your face into his chest, just enjoying that gesture.

A few minutes later, as you were about to fall asleep, another thunder almost made you jump and you felt Eddie's hand suddenly squeeze yours. Not to the point of hurting you, but he certainly added pressure.

You lifted your head and before you could speak, his grip already loosened but his hand was still on yours.

"You okay?" You asked.

He nodded. "Of course."

You tried to read his expression, something was definitely wrong, you knew him well enough to know.

"Eddie."

"What?"

"You squeezed my hand."

"No I-"

He didn't have time to finish the sentence when you both heard the rumble of another thunder, so loud it felt like the house was shaking.

Eddie's hand squeezed yours again, this time even harder than the previous one and he closed his eyes tightly for a few seconds, while the sound echoed until it disappeared, and then opened them again, looking at you.

He let go of your hand and stared at you with his big chocolate brown eyes that you could see shining even in the dark.

"Oh my god." You whispered, that was the moment you realized.

Thunders. Lightnings. The noise.

The Upside Down.

Eddie was scared because of what happened in the Upside Down.

You opened your arms and he lunged into them, burying his face in the crook of your neck and closing his eyes.

"Why didn't you tell me before?" You asked without sounding accusing, none of that was his fault.

"'Cause it's stupid." He murmured, his lips tickling your skin as he spoke.

It wasn't stupid if it was scaring the shit out of him, you could tell by the desperate way he was holding onto you.

As another roar of thunder broke through, Eddie hold you even tighter, squeezing the fabric of your shirt in his fists and pushing his face into your neck.

You run your hand up and down his back, tracing imaginary drawings and left a few kisses on the side of his head that you could reach.

"I'm sorry." He muttered, the tone of his voice sounded like that of a child scared of sleeping alone who in the middle of the night, got into his parents' bed.

"Hey, It's okay, I'm here. I got you." You whispered as you left a kiss on his temple. "You're not there anymore. They can't hurt you, I promise."

At your simple words, Eddie actually seemed to calm down a bit and his tense muscles relaxed under your touch.

You held him all night, all through the storm and even after.

Whenever there was thunder Eddie would hold you tight and you would alternate between phrases like "it's okay, breathe. It'll all be over soon" and "focus on my voice, it's okay. No one's going to hurt you. I'm right here. I love you."

Around three in the morning, the storm started to calm down and the thunders finally stopped.

Eddie didn't budge from you and you kept caressing his back and leaving a few kisses in his hair until you heard a buzz.

He had fallen asleep. He was asleep, he was snoring and you had never been so happy to hear that noise.

You finally closed your eyes.

"Goodnight Ed."

Tags: @jacklesdeanvessel @morning-sky7 @pipsqueakkitten @navs-bhat

[goldenamaranthe-blog]

Street Rat: Chaggie - Aladdin AU

STOP! THIEF!

Vaggie: *running theough the streets of Pride with a small mob on her tail, hood drawn, and mask up* Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

Mobster Boss: I'm gonna sheer your clit off for stealing from me, you little cunt!

Vaggie: Oh, so I have time then! You'd have to find the fucking thing first! *scales the nearest building easily and starts running along rooftops*

Mobster Boss: Don't just fucking stand there! Get her!

Goons: *scramble to find a way up to the roof*

Vaggie: And like that, I'm in the clear- WHOA!!!! *dodges a swinging hammer aimed at her head and speeds the other direction* Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

Goon 1: She's over here!

Vaggie: *parkour jumps onto the next building and starts shuffling down the wall when a hand reaches out and pulls her inside* Shit!

Angel: For fuck sakes, Vags! Get in here!

Goons: *look down to the alley below* Where'd she go?! Where'd she go?!

Goon 2: Uh.... that way! *starts running the opposite direction with the rest following*

Vaggie: *exhales heavily* Thanks, Angel.

Angel: Psh! Don't thank me. Thank the girls for letting me hold you in here.

Vaggie: *eye widens and she looks around the room at all the girls in various stages of undress with a blush* Uhhh..... Hello, ladies. Um... thank you for letting Angel help me out.

Girls: *huff and go about their business*

Angel: Yeah, they're not a fan of broke ass bitches and bastards.

Vaggie: I can see that.... Oh, by the way. Here. *plops a wad of Hellbucks into Angel's hand* That should cover the rest of what I owe you.

Angel: Daaaaaaamn, Vagina. You really risked your neck for this haul, didn't you?

Vaggie: Vaggie... *shrugs* Better in the hands of those who need it instead of some greedy mob boss who just uses it as a spicy fleshlight.

Angel: *thumbs through the wad of cash with a smirk* Awwww, yeah. Gotta love musky money~ Well, thanks for the "donation"! So, what other trouble are ya getting into these days, Vagina?

Vaggie: For fuck sakes, it's Vaggie and you know it.... and that's fucking disgusting. I'm just trying to stay alive on the streets. You know that.

Angel: Well, there's a big festival going on in the middle of town today! Lots of schmucks with loose change for easy pickins if you catch my drift.~

Vaggie: ....What's the festival for?

Angel: Eh. Some prince or something coming to try and sway the Princess into marrying him. Doubt it's gonna work.

Vaggie: *scoffs with a snort* Not if those demon goats have anything to say about it.

Meanwhile:

Charlie: I am NOT meeting with Prince Seviathan!

Lucifer: *sweating* Come on, sweetie. Just talk to him a little. He traveled all the way from Envy to see you.

Charlie: *huffs and crosses her arms* How could you expect me to even consider him as a possible suitor when he's such an arrogant idiot! He's a jerk to literally everyone, Dad!

Lucifer: Oh, I'm sure he's gotten better since his early teens, baby.

*trumpets herald Seviathan's approach*

Lucifer: Just..... try to talk to him. *glances at Razzle and Dazzle* And YOU TWO be on your best behavior!

Razzle & Dazzle: *hooves tuck behind their backs as they sit up at attention* Baaa!/Baaap!

Lucifer: Good! *sighs* I'll be downstairs to greet him. *leaves*

Charlie: *arms still crossed* ......You two didn't actually agree to that, right?

Razzle & Dazzle: *hold up one hoof each that has their toes crossed*

Charlie: Good boys!

[bettyfrommars]

Dirty Metal Summer

a Dirty Dancing au

masterlist playlist

Part 2: The Hideout

You follow Robin over the resort property line to a place where guests are forbidden and get a glimpse of what goes on behind the scenes.

word count: 3.6k

My blog is 18+ONLY, mature themes, violence, alcohol consumption, eventual smut, fighting, mention of blood, reader is called Bird as a nickname, reader plays the cello. Reader is 21, Eddie is late 20's.

Songs for this chapter: Animal (fuck like a beast)//W.A.S.P. No one like you//Scorpions Mental Health (bang your head)//Quiet Riot Wasted Years//Iron Maiden

a/n: it has been so much fun to pull this out of the rubble and jump back into this world for a rewrite, I hope you enjoy. To my I'm on Fire peeps, there will be a scene in this chapter that feels very similar to something that happened in IOF, and that's because I originally stole it from this fic, thinking I'd never post it, lmao. Thought about changing it, but it's just too perfect. Plus, there will always be a hint of biker Eddie in all of my Eddies.

Sticking close behind Robin, you crossed the arc of a walking bridge over a creek and disappeared on a worn path through the trees.  It was only then that you could finally make out the building where the loud music was coming from.  

It had corrugated metal sides and roof, like a structure you might see on a farm that housed large equipment.  There was a picnic table out front where a few people were seated, and the shell of a vintage automobile with bullet holes in it sat in the weeds.

A little more than a city block away was a modest cabin made from actual logs with an old truck, a van, and a motorcycle parked out front.

“Who lives there?” You nudged Robin.

She stopped to see where you were looking first, and then, “oh yeah, that’s Wayne’s place.  The head maintenance guy.  This is his too,” she gestured to the metal building where the music and shouts were coming from.  “Both him and his nephew Eddie.  Have you met Eddie?”

You absolutely knew who he was, but didn’t want to come off as a stalker, so you shook your head.  

The large sliding door entrance to the building was open about a foot, letting out wafts of smoke and a hazy, golden light.  From over Robin’s shoulder, you could see quite a few bodies moving around in there, and just then came the sound of a glass breaking.  

“Ready?” She smiled back at  you, struggling to hold everything in her arms as she reached for the handle to slide the door open the rest of the way.  

“Let me?” You lurched forward.

“I got it,” she insisted, fumbling one of the guitars before catching it again with a gasp of relief.

You weren’t sure what you’d been expecting to see when she eased the door open the rest of the way, but a topless woman dancing on a table top was not one of them. 

Her hair was bleached blonde, frizzy and teased around her face.  She was tan with a prominent bikini line over her pert breasts, and it looked like she’d just pulled the top of her leopard print spandex dress down to give a little show.  

The song Animal (Fuck like a beast) by W.A.S.P. was blaring and the guys around the table cheered while the woman flipped her hair and worked her hips in a circle.  You were sure you recognized her as one of the waitresses from earlier that night. 

Metalheads of all kinds were crowded together, mingling, and you feared that you stuck out like the proverbial sore thumb. Some were in leather; some wore jean vests with pins and patches all over them.  A handful had long hair that they must’ve tied back or wore under hats while they worked at the resort, but a few of them, like Steve, kept theirs short and tidy, for the most part.  Overhead string lights swayed from high wooden beams, and a chandelier that looked like it was made out of wrenches.  An old, pea green Kelvinator refrigerator and a small kitchenette was to your left, as if someone had lived there at one point, and two couches sat against the wall that were mismatched and worn.  

Most of the crowd of people seemed to be lingering together in the middle, standing there as if waiting for something.  Taking shots, smoking blunts, and making out with each other, blocking you from seeing beyond them.  

Robin signaled to follow her, and you were hesitant to start moving through the masses, holding the guitar case flush to your body, feeling like it was something to hide behind.  You noticed posters on the walls for bands like Judas Priest and Metallica, and on the concrete floor you saw smudges from white chalk markings, dark splotches the color of dried blood, but that was ridiculous.  

You pushed between a girl with a blue mohawk and a guy with a shaved head that was covered in tattoos in a hurry to keep up with your escort, and the two shot you a hard glare.  When you could finally see the far wall, there was an oval, threadbare carpet in the corner with a drum kit set up, three microphones, two amps, and some other equipment that suggested live music would soon be happening.  

“This is where they practice!” Robin shouted over the music, directing you where to put Eddie guitar down.  “We call it The Hideout.”

“'Where who practices?’ You set Eddie’s baby near the wall where she told you to.  

“Eddie and Chrissy’s band,” she motioned for you to stand over at the wall with her. 

“Oh,” you turned to look at the instruments again, heart flopping a little at the idea he would show up at any moment.  “They're playing tonight?”

There was a commotion up ahead and you both turned to look. "Later maybe! The fights are tonight,” again, yelling over the growl of the music.  Now the song was No One Like You by Scorpions, and it sounded like people were cheering at someone who’d just come through the door. 

“Fights?” You leaned in to get more information when everyone started pushing back to make room for whatever was about to happen.  You remembered that one of the guys on the porch earlier that day with Chrissy and Steve had a black eye, and you’d noticed another worker at the resort who had a busted lip, but you hadn’t paused to think that maybe they were somehow connected.

It was then that you saw Eddie appear from out of the sea of bodies, and took a sharp intake of breath, holding it in, afraid to let it out for fear you might whimper.  

He was so beautiful, it made you dizzy. You stood up straight, adjusting yourself, covertly checking to make sure you weren’t perspiring too badly.

He was wearing the tux he’d had on for the show earlier, but the tie and cummerbund were both gone, and his white shirt was unbuttoned almost to his stomach.  You caught a glimpse of tattoos on his chest, and a necklace of some sort. Someone handed him a beer and he threw back a generous gulp.  

“There’s going to be boxing? Here? Tonight?” You were trying to act casual and not stare at him the whole time, but it was hard to tear your attention away.  

“Nothing professional,” she scoffed, folding her arms over her chest, putting her shoulder blades against the wall.  “Just your average bare knuckle street fighting, basically. The guys were doing it to blow off steam, but then some others got involved and people started placing bets, so a whole thing started.”

Eddie unbuttoned the rest of his shirt and took it off, passing it to someone in the crowd.  Your mouth went dry at the sight of his lean muscles under the scattered ink.  He kept his hair tied back and started wrapping white tape around one of his hands while Steve said something in his ear.  

“How do they choose who fights who?” You were invested now, wringing Robin out for any information she had.  

“I don’t know how they figure it out, but the new guys usually fight each other, and then a winner challenges Eddie or Steve or Alex,” she pushed off the wall to get a better look at the center of the room. “But it looks like Eddie is up first.” And then with a smirk she added, “all of the new hotshots at the resort think they can beat Eddie.”

“Can they?” Your voice cracked, eyes locked on the scene.  A guy shorter than Eddie but muscular in a football player type of way, was also shirtless in the circle now, with taped hands and wearing a pair of sweats with the name of a university down the leg. The guy was hopping from foot to foot to keep himself hyped up, punching the air in front of him.

“No one beats Eddie,” there was pride in her voice.  “Looks like the guy he’s fighting tonight is Lance, one of the new ski instructors.  Totally full of himself.”

Steve was wearing a white wife beater and jeans, and he raked a hand through his mop of hair just before pointing in your direction.  Eddie’s gaze followed the line of his finger directly to your stunned face, and then it lingered there.

He seemed to contemplate, wetting his lips, and then he nodded to Steve and was on his way over.

He didn’t have to push people out of the way because they were all quick to part to make room for him.  It wasn’t long before he was standing right in front of you.  You tried not to let your gaze linger on the full curve of his slightly chapped lips, or the way his wavy bangs framed his cherrywood eyes.  On closer inspection, you could see that the necklace he wore was a ball chain with a guitar pick hanging from it.  

Robin opened her mouth to say something, possibly introduce you, but Eddie cut her off.  

“What the hell are you doing here, Princess?” His voice was low with an edge of irritation.  He pulled the chunky metal rings off his fingers one by one as he spoke.

Robin cleared her throat, stepping forward. “She’s with me,” she stuttered a bit nervously, knowing full well she shouldn’t have brought you there.  “She came with me, she’s cool.”

Eddie collected all of the rings in his fist and kept staring at you as if he wanted to hear it from your mouth, not Robin’s.  

Your brain short-circuited for a second and you forgot how to form words when he was so close you could see the detail of the dragon tattoo on his chest.  But then, finally, it came to you:

“I-I carried your baby.”

The second it slipped out, you knew how stupid it sounded.

Unblinking, he gave his rings to Robin, and then he was gone.

You stared at the space where he no longer stood, flushed with embarrassment.  

“I carried your baby?” You repeated in a whisper, covering your face with your hands. 

Someone turned the music down so that Steve’s voice could be heard, and he waved his arms in the air to get everyone’s attention.  

“I don’t have to explain the rules to you, because there are none,” his announcement was met with screams and cheers.  Robin tugged at your arm, signaling for the two of you to get a bit closer to the action.  “First one to hit the ground for whatever reason is the loser.  Just fists, no blades or other stupid tricks.”

At one side of the circle of bodies, Lance the ski instructor was practicing some tight punches, and at the other end, Eddie rolled his neck while Chrissy finished taping the knuckles of his other hand.  It was then that the chalk and the stains on the concrete you saw earlier made sense.  

“You two ready?” Steve put his arm up between them, waiting for their nods, and then, at their signal, he chopped his hand down between them as if he were slicing the air.  

Lance was hopping from foot to foot, trying his best to look like some fancy footwork he saw in a Rocky movie, while Eddie walked casually, giving the guy a hooded, bored stare.  

Eddie could read Lance like a book.  A fight was a lot more than just a mindless throwing of hands, there was a mental prowess and skill needed that a lot of the punks busing in from suburbia did not have.  Street smarts was one thing, and Eddie surely had that, but he’d been fighting bullies off since he was a kid, and Wayne taught him to fight like it was a game of chess.

Eddie could tell where Lance was going to go a second before he made the move. He saw the guy was amped up, letting his emotions fight for him, and that was only one of his first mistakes.

Lance charged at him and swung, but Eddie was already steps away; relaxed and agile, holding his guard up. The ski instructor came at him aggressively, again and again, until Eddie pushed him, making his opponent stumble back. 

Keeping his form, Eddie caught you standing there out of the corner of his eye.

…what were you doing there at the Hideout?

He let himself ponder that question for too long and Lance was on him again, aiming a left jab to his ribs, and Eddie absorbed the blow with a grunt, arching to the side. 

You were not supposed to be there.  What was Robin thinking?

Mostly, Brenner and Joyce stayed out of their business, as long as whatever they did was off resort property, but if they found out one of the guests was somehow involved, there would be hell to pay.  

Lance charged again and Eddie dodged, angry at himself for not being able to focus .

“C’mon Lance, stomp that freak,” someone yelled from the crowd. 

And that was all it took

For Eddie to get tired of dragging it out for betting purposes.

Lance charged forward with a cry and Eddie socked an uppercut into his unsuspecting jaw.  

The surfer boy went down

Hard. 

Saliva and blood flew from his mouth as he flailed back, arms going ragdoll.

It felt like it happened in slow motion but soon enough, Lance was splayed out like a starfish on the concrete floor.

“Goodnight sweet prince,” Steve said sarcastically as he collected bets over the ski instructor’s limp body.

Robin cheered with her hands over her head, and you gave a few slow claps, your brain barely able to register where you were or what you were seeing.

“You want a beer?” She asked as you watched Lance numbly get to his feet with the help of two friends and attempt to shake it off.  

Robin motioned for you to follow her around to the refrigerator which was stocked from top to bottom with nothing but beer cans. She handed you one and then went to lean against the side of the appliance, cracking open the tab with a hiss.

With your back to the crowd, you prepared to follow suit, listening to Steve introduce two more fighters.

But then there was someone at your side,

“Not like that,” a voice said.

Eddie had come up behind you, wearing his white shirt unbuttoned, skin still glistening with sweat. Mental Health (Bang Your Head) by Quiet Riot came over the speakers, eliciting a wave of yelps and screams from the group.  

“Wait,” he put his hand on top of yours to keep you from opening your beer while he motioned for another guy to toss him one.  You turned to seek comfort or guidance from Robin, but she was absorbed in conversation with a girl in a platinum pixie cut who’d just walked up.  

“Like this,” he brushed his bangs to the side, and winked as he fished a ring of keys out of his pocket.  He used the serrated metal edge of one to punch a hole at the bottom of the can.  

It was the wink that made your skin flush hot, and then your jaw went slack as you watched him wrap his lips around the newly made hole in the can.  He made eye contact with you one more time before tipping his head back, and cracking the tab of the beer open with his thumb so that the liquid when squirting down his throat.  

The muscles in his throat jerked as he swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing.  

It wasn’t three seconds before he lowered his head and crushed the can in his hand to show it was empty.  He let out a refreshing, “ahhhh,” and darted his tongue out to lick a droplet from his chin.  

You were still holding your unopened beer, waiting for him, mouth dry.  “I-I’m not sure I—”

Yes, you knew what shotgunning a beer was, you’d seen it done plenty of times at college parties and in movies, but had never been tempted to try it yourself.  

Ignoring your hesitation, Eddie motioned with the crook of his finger for you to come closer.  You shuffled to be within reach of him as if your knees were locked in place.  

With a gentle touch, fingers brushing yours, he took your beer from you, wiped it off with his shirt, and then proceeded to make the same hole with his key in the aluminum.  Some of the beer sprayed up and misted your face.

“Here we go,” he tipped your chin with his finger and butterflies swarmed in your stomach as his eyes searched yours. “Just let it shoot into the back of your throat.”

You swallowed nervously to make sure your throat was working, and then wrapped your lips around the can at his instruction.

“Easy, just like that, hold it there,” Eddie was so close now that your elbow was touching his bare chest.  He put a hand on the back of your head.  “When I say, tip your head back all the way, and I’ll flip the tab for you.”

You swiped your tongue over the hole in the can, thinking about how embarrassing it would be if you messed it up and beer went shooting out of your nose.  

Robin offered a few words of encouragement and you noticed a tendril of hair clinging to the sweat on Eddie’s neck, right over the heartbeat in his throat.  

“You ready?”

You weren’t but—-

“Okay, now.”

You closed your eyes, slammed your head back, and prayed, even though you weren’t at all religious.  Some lukewarm beer leaked onto your tongue, and then Eddie pulled the tab, keeping one hand over yours to hold the can steady.  

The gush of liquid hissed and exploded down your throat, and for a second you thought you would choke, but then your swallowing reflex bolted into action and it was over so fast.  

You gasped and swiped beer from your chin when you pulled away to look at the empty can, amazed. 

Eddie cupped his warm hand around the back of your neck, and you felt him shift closer until his mouth was at your ear.

“Good girl,” he whispered.

An actual chill ran down your spine.

Robin put up her hand and you gave you a high five.  “Not bad for a first timer,” she joked.  “Now crush it on your forehead and grunt.”

“Ha. Ha.” 

You turned to Eddie, “that was fun maybe he should—”

You were about to say the two of you should do another one, 

but he was gone.  

—----

The next night, Eddie couldn’t sleep, so he decided to head to the property to finish up some work at the pool house.   

The place he shared with Wayne was close enough to walk to the Hawkins Landing property, but that night, he drove.  He wanted to roll the window down on the van and blast Wasted Years by Iron Maiden and belt out the lyrics.  

He slipped into the parking lot for visitors and employees, turning the music down so that it wouldn’t be heard by any of the nearby cabins.  There were two street lamps on, but a third one he noticed was out, and made a mental note that he’d have to get Jamie to fix it tomorrow.  The sidewalks along the manicured lawn were also lined with lights that came out of the ground like little mushrooms, and the boat dock far off to his left was lit, but other than that, he was in the dark.  

Grabbing his red toolbox from the passenger seat, he put a flashlight in his tool belt holster, and the van door creaked on its hinges just before it banged shut.  His ribs still ached from the punch he took the night before, but he only allowed himself to cringe and curse in private. Luckily, his only companions at that moment were the crickets and the lapping of the water against the bank.

It wasn’t until he was a few yards down the sidewalk, head down, lost in thought, that the din of classical music made him halt in his tracks. 

It was definitely strings, possibly a violin? No, it was too deep.  

He looked up at the main house, but the sound was much too close to be coming from way up there.

He cut to the right and up the grass.

Then he saw the attic light on in cabin #11.

He told himself not to bother, but as the passion of the playing increased, curiosity got the better of him.  

He came right up to your driveway, staying half obscured by a tree trunk, and watched you.

The cello, of course that’s what you were playing.  He was no expert on the classics, but he’d always learned music by ear and had a unique sense for identifying instruments.  

You weren’t reading from sheet music, you were just playing while you stared out at the sky.

Playing something by heart, or making it up as you went along, he wasn’t sure.  

In his mind, you were so far out of league, it was criminal.

Your attention broke when a sudden movement down on the road startled you.  

The bow zipped clumsily across the strings one last time, and you stood up to get closer to the open window.

But, your eyes must’ve been playing tricks on you. 

There was no one there.    

-----

Hi hello! thank you so much for reading! For those wondering, this fic will still be centered around music, not boxing, but the little fight club they have has a lot to do with the spin of the plot soon.

thank you all so much for the suppport! we are getting to the juicy parts now! give me those hungry eyes. comments and reblogs are cherished!! like, I live for them.

-------

taglist: @tlclick73@micheledawn1975@kurdtbean@katethetank@elvendria@spookysqaush86@somethingvicked@stylesxmunson@laurenlokirby@sapphire4082 @kellsck @motherfckerrr @emxxblog @justdamnpeachy @dashingdeb16 @corrodedcoffincumslut @bexreadstoomuch

[queenie-the-court-jester]

𝐥; 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠

𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐰𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐚𝐜𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬: masterlist

𝐭𝐰: none, just reader being fruity. Not proofread, sorry for any bad grammar

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: all characters, including the reader, are 18+. Mdni since this series will include grave topics and nsfw content. Reader is depicted as fem and goes by she/her pronouns

You woke up after a crazy dream of taking a shower and some dude kidnapping you as soon as you stepped out of the bathroom, groggily you sat up as you could faintly hear birds chirping outside the little window next to the bed you were on

wait. A window? Your eyes shot open at the realization, this wasn't your bed. There was no way you would ever be able to afford all the fancy stuff in it. You practically jumped out of the bed, you were wearing only a very fine silk nightgown and bonnet. You walked over to the door, about to open it when it opened itself

A pair of black eyes stared at you, and you stared right back. The elderly man held a tea set in his hands, suddenly breaking the silence

"I see you are awake.. that is good news, im sure you're wondering where you are right now hm? Come nowy dear, let's sit down and talk over this subject over tea"

You hesitantly followed him to the cornet of the room, sitting across from him on the little tea table. He seemed frail and weak, the thought about rocking his shit so you could escape crossed your mind, but you couldn't do that to an old man. It was against your morality

"so.. who are you? Where am I?"

"I am cosmo soleris, the headmaster of this school. You are in my school, one of my students found you unconscious in the woods and brought you here, tell me, do you remember anything?"

"no just.. some guy kidnapped me after I finished showering I think..?"

"I'm terribly sorry this has happened to you.. unfortunately it seems you aren't from our world, so it may take a while for us to find a way for you to return home"

"...what."

He explained to you of different worlds and realm travelling of which you understood nothing of, only that a hole must have opened to their world in the middle of your kidnapping and you must've fell through

"rest assured my dear, we will do everything we can to find this hole and send you back home. In the meantime, you are welcome to stay here until he figure everything out. Oh! Where are my manners.. what is your name?"

"y/n.. y/n l/n.."

"welcome y/n"

he smiled warmly at you, setting down his teacup. Guess you had to stay for a while.. fuck, you already missed your bed

Cosmo offered for you to study at the school meanwhile, he looked for a way to send you back home. At first you thought it would be nice, you were supposed to enter your senior year anyway, and free tuition is always a welcome benefit to dropping into some random ass world. Until your new schedule was dropped off, Cosmo's annoying ass pet bird swooped into your bedroom through a window on the roof. Honking and cawing until you got up.

You shot dirty looks at the bird, rolling your eyes as you grumbled and muttered. Trudging to the tiny bathroom to get ready. After you got out, the bird sat on your bed. Staring at you with it's beady eyes

"what are you even..a chicken? Duck? Cockroach?"

It only cawed at you before hopping onto the floor, walking to the door and waiting for you to open it. You sighed and walked over, making your way down the hall with the bird as your guide

"what did Cosmo call you again? Phee-phee?"

It chirped as if saying "yes"

"Well phee-phee.. guess we're stuck together for a while"

You were so distracted Talking to the ugly ass bird you didn't notice the girl right Infront of you. It was too late since you bumped into her and somehow fell onto her tits

"oh my god shit are you okay-"

"ow.. that hurt.."

You looked up, only to come face to face with the hottest girl you've ever seen. No, literally. She was so hot, scalding actually. You winced as you quickly got off her, helping her get back up

"so you're the new transfer student.. I am Chloe javius Skylar. Pleasure to make your acquaintance."

She did a polite short bow, blonde curls bouncing a bit

"..hey chloe, do you like girls"

"huh."

[inoreuct]

alternate universe where zoro isn't a swordsman or an actor but in fact a secret third thing (A LULULEMON AMBASSADOR)

okay maybe not lululemon specifically but if it was it’d be hilarious. any athleisure brand, honestly; sanji’s there as a leggings model and there’s talk of a new sports bra model coming in for their next shoot and he’s like oh!! a lovely lady!! that’s wonderful!! and he makes his best chewy chocolate chip cookies (with 60% cacao because he’s cultured) and brings them to the studio— but the new model happens to be late, so sanji’s wandering around on break with his cookies and hoping to be the first one to welcome them before he turns a corner and someone SLAMS into him.

he’s nearly knocked off his feet and he barely manages to keep the container of cookies from going flying because it feels like he just collided with a brick wall. the person grabs his waist to steady him, one hand on his hip and the other around his back, and he feels his tupperware bump against their jaw as his hands scrabble to find purchase on their shoulders.

once his brain's realised that he, in fact, isn't falling and eating shit, sanji looks up and freezes.

grey eyes and green hair and tan skin, long, long lashes, a strong nose and low-set brows and oh, he's so close. sanji's breath catches as fingertips press gently into the side of his ribcage—

and he squawks as he's dropped unceremoniously to the floor, whipping his head around so furiously his neck cracks as the guy just steps over his legs and keeps on walking.

"hey!" sanji shouts, climbing to his feet as he tries to ignore the way he's flushing with anger and something-else-he-will-not-name-please-fuck-off. "who the hell do you think you are?!"

the guy turns back, looking almost bored as he drones, "an employee."

"what, they hired you to haul equipment?" sanji scoffs, and his stomach sinks when the guy flashes him a grin that's sharp enough around the edges to look dangerous.

"no. i'm modelling the new sports bra collection."

and oh. sanji has to put a hand on the wall so he doesn't sit right back down as the guy walks out of view. this can't be happening. he's gonna jump right off the fucking roof.

he stress-eats all his cookies, fuming mad and pacing a groove into the floor, and he’s still licking crumbs off the corners of his mouth as he storms back onto the set. zoro’s already standing there, sports bra on and arms up as the staff fuss around him, making adjustments and asking him about the fit, and sanji’s eye is twitching. that is not a lovely lady. that is an OGRE.

(who just so happens to have muscles for days and the nicest chest sanji’s ever seen in his life BUT THAT IS BESIDES THE POINT.)

and of course they start bickering almost immediately.

this guy’s an athlete, not a model. he’s stiff and stubborn and coarse and sanji learns his name is roronoa zoro, some hotshot kendo champion who’s only here because my sister signed me up, so you can blame her for ruining your day, your majesty, and ooooooh. sanji wants to kick him. sanji wants to kick him so bad.

zoro thinks sanji’s some sort of spoiled pompous brat (honestly at the moment he’s acting like one, he is self-aware, but it’s his defense mechanism okay??) and sanji can’t stand all the snide under-breath snark that zoro’s slipping him after every sentence. they have to film zoro running to prove that the sports bra actually works and sanji pretends to trip and faceplant so he has an excuse for his nosebleed.

they pause the shoot for the day after that; sanji’s off like a rocket and clearly avoiding people so why is the mosshead following him. he speedwalks to the carpark with zoro stuck right to his side and gets progressively faster until he can hop on his bike and pedal away and then zoro starts RUNNING next to him?? and sanji’s like HOW ARE YOU KEEPING UP. WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU and he’s pedalling as fast as he can and at this point even zoro’s a little out of breath and he gasps “GO OUT WITH ME” and sanji jams on the breaks so hard he nearly flies off his damn bicycle.

“what.” it’s the first thing that’s out of his mouth. they’ve skidded to a stop in the middle of some small side street; zoro’s earrings are chiming against each other, and the thought that they sound surprisingly sweet crosses sanji’s mind. “what.”

“go out with me,” zoro repeats, hands on his hips as his chest heaves.

sanji blinks. “why?” they’ve been nothing but animous towards each other thus far, and he likes to think that most of his dates actually like him.

the green-haired man shrugs a shoulder. “dunno. i’ve got a good feeling.”

“a good feeling,” sanji echoes, caught between disbelief and some sort of alarmingly fond disdain. “guess everybody’s gotta depend on something, huh, algae-brain?”

zoro just stares at him and says nothing.

“…oh, alright, fine!” sanji yells, throwing his hands into the air. “unbelievable. i can’t believe i’m doing this. seven o’clock, makino’s pizza, and do not,” he hisses, leaning in as he jabs a finger into zoro’s sternum, “be late.”

(zoro is late. sanji refuses to admit he’s disappointed for the entire thirty-seven (not that he'd been counting) minutes he waits, poking unenthusiastically at his milkshake and cursing this stupid guy for playing what was probably a stupid mean joke on him and cursing himself for falling for it.)

(at minute thirty-eight, zoro bursts through the door red-faced, rain-soaked, gripping a bottle of wine by the neck and raking his sodden hair off his forehead. the bell's not even done ringing before he's found sanji and is sliding into the opposite side of the booth seat.)

"sorry," he breathes, leaning against the backrest as he catches his breath. “i got lost.”

sanji’s too warm with the relief rushing through him to ream him out. “is that wine?”

“uh, yeah.” zoro sets the bottle on the table and turns it so the label faces away. “my dad owns a vineyard.”

sanji reads the thin cursive font, looks up at zoro as his eyes go wide, and reads it again. “your dad’s dracule mihawk? he’s one of zeff’s oldest suppliers, how did i never…”

the other man huffs a laugh. “adoptive, which explains the the lack of family resemblance. both me and my sister perona.”

“oh my god. the famous paranormal blogger perona.”

“mhm.”

sanji blinks twice before shaking himself out of it, taking a big gulp of his milkshake. “your family’s wild.”

“tell me about it,” zoro chuckles, scrubbing a hand over the back of his neck. the hems of his pant legs are dripping onto the floor. “how ‘bout you? anybody i’d know in your family tree?”

“well,” sanji begins, thinking. “my dad’s red leg zeff. runs the Baratie?”

“the seafood place? my best friend’s there every week!”

“no.” sanji’s starting to grin as he sits forward. “blinding smile, bottomless stomach, scar on his left cheek—”

“yeah!” zoro exclaims, and it suddenly hits sanji that this guy really does have a dangerous smile because if he keeps laughing like that, well. he doesn’t want to let himself hope quite yet. “damn. how come we’ve never met sooner?”

sanji shrugs eloquently. “wrong timing, maybe.”

it’s quiet for a while after that. they order a pizza to share and a side of cheese fries, and sanji is equal parts impressed and disgusted when zoro manages to shove an entire slice in his mouth at one go by rolling it up. they talk and bicker and joke and sanji ends up laughing so hard he’s rendered mute and slipping off the bench.

when the hiccups die down, he pushes himself up with one hand and sighs. “seriously, though. why?” why are we here? why’d you want to do this?

he doesn’t need to elaborate, though. zoro shifts back against the cracked cushions and tilts his head. “has any ever been able to keep up with you?”

"...no," sanji says quietly, and he can't help the hurt that stings hot and aching in his stomach. the shame that one word carries makes his face warm because he knows, he knows he's a lot sometimes— he’s been told as much by so many exes that he can’t even count them.

he knows zoro clocks the mood shift by the way the other man suddenly looks like he’s floundering a little, mouth opening and closing like a fish. “didn’t mean that in a bad way,” he finally says, the words soft and a little rushed, and he doubles down when sanji flashes him a smile that’s more empty than anything else. “not at all. you’re the only one who’s ever been able to keep up with me.”

and sanji… doesn’t know what to make of that.

he drains the rest of his milkshake and slides out of his seat. “let’s get out of here.”

the park is mostly empty this late, and sanji snags the bottle out of zoro’s hands. cuts the foil with his house keys and works the cork out, moving to stuff it into his coat pocket before zoro gently takes it from him. it’s a red wine, rich and smooth, and it goes down easy; almost too easy. sanji’s home is a walk away and he can drink as much as he damn well wants.

it’s not logical, how he’s feeling right now. zoro had already clarified what he’d meant. and still it simmers in his gut, sour and cold, a feeling that makes him lift the bottle to his lips again. too much. always too much. too much love, too overbearing, how do you expect anybody to keep up, sanji? you’re too much. he goes in for another swig.

zoro’s hand wraps over his. “hey.”

irritation flares behind sanji’s teeth before guilt snuffs it out. the other man’s gnawing at his lip, slowly shifting the bottle down as they stop walking. “i’m sorry. i really didn’t mean to upset you,” zoro mutters, looking genuinely worried, and sanji’s next breath in aches.

“no, it’s— i’m sorry. i’m sorry. this is supposed to be a date,” he laughs weakly, digging his fingers into glass to try and ground himself. “and i’m drinking up all the wine.”

“it’s for you,” zoro rebuts, nudging him with a shoulder. “you’re supposed to be drinking it.”

he doesn’t. they start walking again, the wet cobbled path dappled by light shining through the trees, and sanji tucks the bottle against his front as he loops his arm through zoro’s. “this is a first for me, y’know,” he says, squeezing zoro’s bicep. “i promise i’m not usually this rude.”

“says the man who called me a badly-planted cabbage patch this afternoon,” zoro snorts, and sanji can’t help but laugh. “seriously, though, s’alright. i get it. we all have our sore spots; i just hadn’t gotten the chance to learn about yours.”

sanji pinches his lips together. that, right there— zoro is rough around the edges but he is kind. he stops where it counts. sanji had shown the slightest sign of discomfort and he’d stopped pushing. it’s bold, and crazy, and completely out of line in his own personal rulebook— but zoro doesn’t move away when sanji tips his head onto his shoulder, so sanji swallows to clear his throat.

“do you want it?”

zoro’s lashes cast long shadows on his cheeks as they flutter, and he looks down. “hm?”

“the chance.” it’s a little chilly out; sanji’s coat is enough, but he lets himself curl closer to the warmth radiating through zoro’s padded jacket. it cuts through the dampness that’s still not quite gone. “do you want it?”

zoro’s eyes flick over his face, widening imperceptibly when he realises that sanji’s serious, and the smile that pulls at his mouth is a slow, beautiful thing.

he presses his cheek to sanji’s hair. they’re both smiling when he takes the wine bottle and drinks.

(sanji makes more cookies when they have their next shoot. 70% cacao this time after he learns that zoro can’t stand sweet things, and he teases the shit out of the man about it being relative to both his taste in food and his taste in people.)

(zoro finishes the last crumb, very firmly tells sanji that he is wrong, and kisses him so thoroughly he goes light-headed.)

(and if some of the staff see them canoodling behind the water cooler, well. the chocolate sanji wipes off his mouth is the only evidence.)

[lowkeyrobin]

(Reader x dsmp/mcyt)

Reader who just got their tongue pierced and their s/o's/partners reaction?

-🌕 anon!

oooo I like this one!! I got a little handful of mcyts here so hopefully I got all the ones you were looking for! and welcome to the family 🌕 anon! you're officially my first child lmao

MCYT ; you get your tongue pierced

includes ; tommyinnit, ranboo, badlinu, quackity, nihachu, and foolish gamers

warnings ; language, mention of pills, mentions/descriptions of oral anatomy (ik some ppl get icked when ppl talk about insides of mouths i get it)

masterlist

TOMMYINNIT

"woah- hey there"

you're bouncing off the walls and dying to show him

you picked the one moment he's busy with editing and you stand behind him for a solid 3 minutes before he turns around

you stick your tongue out to show off your new piercing and he exclaims a bit, his emotions in awe

he may look disgusted or cringed, but he's just surprised you're for one, not in pain, two, how good it looks on you

"Holy shit, it looks awesome y/n!"

then proceeds to ask a million questions about it

he's mostly just curious what it feels like inside your mouth and how you take care of it and eat around it

idk what to call it bc I obv don't have a tongue piercing (or any in general LMAO) but you do the little putting the piercing between your teeth trick for him and he jumps back all frightened at first

he had no idea how you did it somehow

"how the fuck did you just do that???"

you to be fair jumpscared him with it so you just kinda show him

"doesn't that hurt????"

RANBOO

"Ran, lookit!"

Bro looks up at you with your tongue out and his resting face turns into a wide smile

"Oh my God!? you actually got it? I'm so happy for you!"

wraps you in a hug

once the excitement wears off he's super paranoid about you being uncomfortable or in pain because I mean your tongue just got jabbed with a needle and now you've got a piece of metal in it

also asks questions, mostly because he also wants to understand how it feels in your mouth

"does it like... rub up on the roof of your mouth and scratch it? like, does it hurt other than the pain from the insertion?"

they LOVE when you do the little teeth trick, it's just so cool to them lmao

they'll gift you some new (high quality) jewelry as well every once in a while

he literally went online to get a customized one that says "#1 Ranboo fan" in it for you 💀💀

instead of wearing it, you turn it into a bracelet/necklace/use it as another kind of piercing that way you can actually show it off

he likes seeing you fidget around specifically w the pill ones

questions you constantly how you don't accidently swallow it or something

"wait.. do you take it out when you shower and brush your teeth? genuine question, I swear!"

again, they're happy if you're happy

they're happy seeing you be able to express yourself more clearly and they don't care what it is, they're always by your side

BADLINU

he, harry, & bill came with you for moral support

he wasn't staring down the inside of your mouth but he felt the pain with how hard you were squeezing his hand 💀💀💀💀

he looks up at Harry and Bill with pleading eyes like "Holy shit they have some grip help me"

he refuses to buy/let you buy jewelry that isn't 100% high quality

nor is he letting that shit get infected either

he always notices when you match the jewelry to your outfits or the occasion as well

like you'll be attending the streamer awards and you'll smile for a picture and he'll just see your jewelry perfectly matches your outfit

he likes buying you the fun colorful ones bc you only buy the plain silver/gold/black ones for yourself

"Wait, how do you like... get it out?"

"how much does it hurt?"

sometimes he just finds jewelry you left on the nightstand or dresser from when you have sleepovers

he'll text you like "dude you left your stuff here again I told you to check 💀"

"Shut up I'm omw back"

QUACKITY

"OH MY GOD HOLY SHIT YOU LOOK AWESOME"

like engulfs you in a hug

instantly shows you off the the gang and shit

you basically tell chat all about the story at the piercers and he's cringing in pain all the way through

oh my God he hates the descriptions you use he swears it's just to tease him or something

also the type to custom order jewelry for you

you do order a custom one with the pixel :) tho & u wear it the most out of the other jewelry you have lmaoooo

if it was still 2019 u totally would've done the iconic quackityhq duck

when he kisses you he likes touching the piercing w his tongue just to fuck you up bc it feels weird

"HAHA L!"

genuinely concerned sometimes bc you sit there and fidget w it and zone out for a solid 5 minutes in a loud room and he's just worried you'll rip it out or smthn

also the type to wonder how you don't accidently swallow it

always makes you pose with your tongue out in pics he takes of you bc he's so in love with it

he probably loves that damn piercing more than he loves you

NIHACHU

"Oh my gosh! you look so good!"

like hugs you and spins you around

helps you take care of it and stuff, always on top making sure you're not in pain and whatnot

she'll match her snakebites with your new piercing

if you're wearing some silver jewelry, she'll change her snakebites to silver hoops or spikes etc etc

also gifts you jewelry religiously

she found some online (high quality as well 🙏🙏🙏) that perfectly match your aesthetic and never has she ever clicked add to cart so damn quick

also helps you style jewelry with outfits

she also likes the teeth trick, she likes the sound mostly of the jewelry clinking off your teeth

it's one of those like adrenaline shudder moments yk?

but she is constantly getting pictures of you showing it off/with your tongue out

like quackity, I think she likes the piercing more than she likes you LMAO

FOOLISH GAMERS

"Oh, hi- oh my God, hi!"

he's so interested just off the bat

you do the little teeth trick and he does his little giggle ❤️❤️

"that sounds so weird"

he has you show it off to his stream and he's all smiles and shit

he of course gifts you a lot of jewelry as well and always triple checks to make sure it's high quality

his Google history is just "Is _____ high quality?" "Is it safe to buy from ____?" etc

when you're making out or whatever he loves tasting the metal of the piercing on his tongue, he's addicted

always compliments you as well, always posting photos w you showing it off too

like you'll most a photo showing it off and he'll be in the comments like "marry me pls" and be fighting off your fans who are just complimenting you

like some random person will be like "omg you look so cool!!" and he'll jokingly reply with a "back off buddy they're mine 😡"

God I'm so in love with this man

[i-cant-sing]

Okay okay, time for me to word vomit an idea:

So imagine that after Dabi does his whole vengeful arc, kills dozens of people and publicly calls out Enji's abusive ass, my man just gets caught by the cops and he's like put in a psychiatric hospital (because obviously Enji pulled some strings to save his son from death row to ease his own guilt).

Anyways, Dabi is like majorly depressed obviously and he's like "well, I've done everything I wanted to, so I might as well off myself" and cue reader's entry.

So basically, reader could be a nurse/doctor(NOT A PSYCHIATRIST) and she's all warm and fuzzy and a literal Ray of sunshine and Dabi hates her, but he doesn't give a crap atm.

And like everytime Dabi tries to kill himself, reader is there to stop him. It obviously started with "nooo, please don't kill yourself🥺 you are precious🥺🥺" to reader just swooping in and foiling his plans like "can you not die during my shift? I need an early night off🥱". Dabi is actively trying to kill himself, like he's standing on the ledge to jump, and reader is tackling him down and then punching him for making you run all the way up to the roof.

And like reader is bandaging him up with great gentleness and care and Dabi is staring at her being all close to him (he is mesmerised), and he goes-

"I'll be successful in my suicide one day."

And you just smile and shake your head. "Not as long as I'm praying." And at first, Dabi is super annoyed because he's think you're into the whole religious mumbo jumbo, but he actually caught you one day praying (insert whatever religion) and he's bewitched by the sincerity you pray for his (and others) well being. As if you believed with your whole heart that someone up there is listening to you.

He doesn't know what or when exactly he fell for you, but he did. And he decides that he'll confess to you after he gets out of psychiatric hospital (after tugging at Rei's and Enji's heart strings and them using money and influence to free their menace son). After spending 6 years in the hospital, 6 years where you were the only one who truly cared for him, he'll finally confess to you.

But then you don't come. Not even the next day, or the week after that. Turns out, you left your job.

Out of the blue? Dabi's suspicions rose.

He got out of the hospital and began doing his own research on you until he found your address and well... he sort of came in unannounced (look he knocked, you didn't answer, so he melted the lock and let himself in. At least he came in bearing flowers and wine).

He wasn't expecting you to be at home, but there you were, lying in your bed, a little too still for someone to be asleep.

He throws the covers off you, eyes narrowing on the red stains on your sheet before moving to your bleeding wrists.

Dabi's world stops, every cell in his body stops before every fiber in his being screams and makes him move. He doesn't check for pulse, doesn't check if you're still breathing, perhaps he'd die himself if he didn't like the answer he found. He picks you up and immeadiately goes to the nearest hospital, which fortunately was near.

While you were being operated on, Dabi sat outside, heart thumping as he prayed to whatever deity you did.

Please... not yet.

His prayers were answered as tge doctors told him that you're going to be alright... physically that is. Mentally? Well, Dabi is about to figure it out.

He sat by your side waiting for you to wake up. When you finally did, he saw how different you looked. Obviously he had noticed that you were physically weak, but your eyes... they lost their shine.

Your eyes turned to confusion when you looked at him. "D-Dabi? What are you-"

"I found you." That was enough for you to put together what he meant. You turned your eyes away from him, ashamed.

"Why?" He asks in a quiet tone. "What made you do it?"

"My choices." You whispered. "Bad decisions in the past."

Dabi wanted to pry more out of you, but he knew you wouldn't explain more. So, he takes matter into his own hands and leaves the hospital, telling you that he needs to run some errands, but he's actually going back to your apartment and starts rummaging through your stuff to find some clues as to what exactly caused you to do this.

He didn't have to look around too much because he found your phone and snooped through your messages. Someone was blackmailing you. They had some explicit pictures of you, seems like a toxic ex who was threatening to share these photos with your family and social circle.

So Dabi pays a visit to your ex, takes care of him and the pictures he had,making sure to get rid of all the copies too. All in a day!

By night he had returned to the hospital, you were asleep. He slept there too, in the uncomfortable hospital chair, heart at peace as he watched your chest rise and fall steadily.

Next morning, when it was time for you to leave, Dabi helped you and took you home. You thanked him for everything, and Dabi made sure to tell you that he'll be picking you up for lunch later. You agreed hesitantly. And at lunch, he finally revealed that he came to you because he wanted to ask you out.

You look surprised, more so when he reveals that he had fancied you for a while and that he understands that relationships might not be a priority for you at the moment but-

"I understand if dating is not a priority for you right now but if you ever do consider falling in love, know that I've been on the top of your wait list for the past 6 years and will wait another lifetime if that's all the time you need."

You're in tears at his words, and you have a hard time not breaking down as he takes your hands in his, his thumbs carefully tracing over your bandaged wrists as he promises to wait by your side, that he'll always be there to help you with anything, that if you gave him a chance, he'll spend the rest of his life trying to make you happy.

"Dabi, i- I am not good for you." You say, voice wobbly. "My past, it'll always haunt me and I care too much about you to let it haunt you as well."

"Your ex? His pictures?" He asked watching shock appear on your face. "You won't ever have to worry about him, Y/n."

You shook off your surprise. "That's not it. It's not the only problem I have!"

"Then tell me. I'll fix all of your problems." Dabi promises with such sincerity that you're compelled to believe him.

You don't tell him obviously, saying that it is your burden, your mess to deal with. Dabi doesn't push more, only because he knows he'll figure it out later anyways. Hey, he may be a criminal but he was once the son of the top hero who trained him, so Dabi's IQ is through the fucking roof.

And a man in love has no limitations.

Had a DUI? He deals with it. Parents disowned you? He'll make them regret it. Killed someone? He'll make sure you have an alibi to prove your innocence. Cheated off a test in grade 2? He'll make sure there are no witnesses alive. He'll burn the world- burn himself if it means keeping you warm.

You don't wanna date a criminal? Fine, he's working a cooperate job and since he's so smart, he'll be a fucking CEO in no time and have enough money and time to spend on you. Youre crying because you feel ugly when you see your scars? Dabi makes sure to kiss them every day and pulls out his turtleneck (aka the trademark Todoroki fit) for you, while he buys the best treatment money can buy for your scars. Mental health is going down? He's taking you to the best therapist in town. You're sad he's an atheist because it means you won't be with him in heaven? Damn, he's a convert now.

I just adore men in love :(

Okay but I don't think we're focusing on how scary smart Dabi actually is😳😳😳 I just know it, I KNOW he's super smart but he downplays it all the time because he's depressed or whatever.

[dannyphantom-zero]

Danny Phantom Prompt: Danny, Sam and Tucker are in Gotham for a trip of some sort and Sam decided to test Danny's ability.

The three teens sat cross legged on the wide flat roof of the bakery not far from the hotel they were staying in. It was around ten and darker than you could imagine but at least there was street light near the bakery so they weren't completely blind.

"the gym coach hasn't hassled me for a while, I'm a lot more fit now that I've had Brittany by my side" Tucker said whipping out his newest PDA and kissing it.

"Fully equipped with sensor's. It counts my steps" he said excitedly.

Sam snorted, "yeah, well at least somebody has been keeping up with their physical training" she gave a pointed jab in Danny's direction.

"ah. That is SO unfair. I do too keep up with my physical training" he countered.

"oh yeah, then prove it."

Meanwhile, Nightwing was out on patrol in this specific area.

When he heard some chatting from a roof up ahead.

"how?" Danny asked.

"parkour" Sam answered passing a glance around the rooftop.

Danny sighed.

"Fine"

He stood up and threw Sam a glared before walking backwards towards the edge of the building.

Nightwing squinted and his breath hitched. That kid was walking backwards! And he was WAY to close to the edge of that roof.

Danny smiled to himself before doong a high backflip. His feet landed sturdy on the other roof.

Sams mouth was agap.

"wtf Danny!" She exclaimed.

He laughed at her expression.

"your the one who said you wanted proof" he hollered back.

"proof about what?!" Nightwing exclaimed still not okay with the fact that this kid almost plummeted to his third story death.

Danny jumped, startled, tripping over his own feet and actually falling off the roof.

He landed with a hard thud in the concrete.

"oh shit!" Nightwing exclaimed. Tucker and Sam calmly peered over the edge and grinned simultaneously.

Danny was holding a thumbs up as he stood up and brush off the dirt from his jeans.

"I'm okay!"

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

To the victor the spoils

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 19

Prompt: Enemies to lovers

Rated: T

CW: light blood and violence; steamy kissing; very light dubcon if you squint (they're actually both super into it, I promise)

Tags: Fantasy AU; Magic AU; Guard!Steve; Thief!Eddie; Sexual tension; Flirting; Fighting; First kiss

Notes: Thought that kiss was hot in writing? Wait until you see it! @house-of-the-moving-image did an entire mini comic!

In the end, it’s just the two of them again. 

Steve jumps over another groaning pile of half-conscious guards and bursts out onto the roof, cold night air slapping him in the face and making the cape of his uniform whip. 

“Munson!” he barks. 

He is standing by the edge of the roof, a black cut-out against the starlit sky. As Steve stalks closer, he can see the smile curling at his lips, the amusement glinting in those dark eyes. 

“Stevie,” he greets, like they’re two acquaintances who’ve just met on the market square - not the new Captain of the Guard and the city’s most wanted criminal. “My, don’cha look strapping in the new get-up. Congrats, I bet daddy’s mighty proud.” 

“Shut it,” Steve growls, ignoring the way Eddie’s eyes linger on his golden breastplate, the way it makes a treacherous heat prickle at his neck. “Flattery will get you nowhere. Now give it back!” 

He jerks his head at the necklace clutched in one black-gloved hand. Eddie pouts. 

“Don’t wanna. It’s shiny.” 

Steve groans. It’s like talking to a five-year-old. A five-year old clad in black armor who’s versed in combat magic. 

“It is a priceless magic artifact that’s been in Lord Carver's family for generations-” 

“Yeah, and what a load of good they’ve done with it,” Eddie sneers. “High time it got into the hands of someone who actually knows what they’re doing.” 

“Oh, and that someone would be you?” 

“Look at you,” Eddie winks. “Pretty and clever. Now if you’ll excuse me, I gotta-” 

“You’re not going anywhere!” Steve snaps. His sword slides out with a high, metallic sound. 

Eddie raises his hands. “Woah, big boy. Careful now, you don’t wanna-” 

Steve roars and lunges. 

Eddie skips out of reach, but not quite fast enough. A lock of curly hair floats to the ground. 

“Oh sweetheart, you're gonna regret this,” Eddie purrs. 

And all hell breaks loose. 

The air crackles with the taste of ozone, a blinding light erupts from the artifact, and Steve just barely manages to parry. Something whirrs through the air, glides off his blade and a sharp, hot pain explodes all over the side of his face. Something warm trickles down his cheek. 

“Hell yeah,” Eddie whoops and comes flying at him, giant shards of solid magic whirling around him, eyes eerily alight with their glow. “That's what I'm talking about!” 

The world blurs into a frenzy of movement and adrenaline. Attack and parry, dive for cover behind the towers and turrets and battlements of the roof, attack again. It’s almost comforting in its familiarity, this dance of theirs. Steve knows all of Eddie’s little quirks, the subtle twitches of his face that indicate his attacks before they actually come. They’ve done this so often, he can read him like an open book. 

The problem is, Eddie knows him just as intimately. Steve screams with rage, forces his aching limbs to go faster, harder, but it’s no use. Every blow that he tries to land, Eddie blocks, every twist and turn he makes, Eddie’s already there, always with that infuriating, dimpled grin, that amused little quirk of his brow. 

Until Steve’s foot lands on a wet patch of moss and he slips. 

It all goes so fast he has no time to be terrified - just feels the horrible sense of vertigo as the world tilts and the cobbled street jumps at him. Then, before he can so much as scream, there's arms wrapping around him and he's being hauled backwards, back pressed flush against another body. His blade goes clattering into the shadows.

“Whoops,” Eddie chuckles into his ear. Steve can feel his chest rising and falling with exertion, can feel his hot breath clouding against the shell of his ear. “Thought I told you not to fall for me.”

“Shut up,” he snaps, tries to struggle free, but Eddie has one arm around his chest, the other flush against the hollow of his throat, and he can't go anywhere. “Don’t give yourself too much credit.” 

“Oh, do I?" Eddie’s lips twitch into a smirk against the nape of his neck. “Then why were you holding back?” 

“Fuck you!” he grits out, but all it earns him is a low tut. “Now release me.”

“What, without a reward?” Eddie’s voice tingles down his spine, sweet and potent like poisoned mead. “You know how I am about pretty things. And you wouldn't wanna deny the victor his spoils, would you?” 

“Asshole!” Humiliation coils hot and heavy in Steve’s abdomen. “Stop joking and-” 

Eddie snarls against his ear. “I've told you a million times, honey. I'm not joking.” 

Steve’s world spins again, breath punched clean from his lungs as he is flipped around and slammed against the nearest wall. Eddie doesn’t leave him any time to recover, just surges in with a hungry growl and crashes their lips together. When Steve tries to struggle, he bites down on his bottom lip, uses the pained gasp it earns him to lick into his mouth. 

Someone moans, but it takes Eddie running his tongue over the roof of his mouth and pushing a leg between his thighs before the sound tumbles out again and Steve recognizes his own voice. They only break apart when they run out of air, both flushed and struggling for breath. 

And that is when the door to the roof slams open and Lord Carver and his men push through. 

“He went this way! Seize him!”

Eddie lets out an annoyed huff and leans in for one last peck against Steve’s lips. 

“Sorry, darling. Gotta go, y'know how it is. See you next time.” 

He steps out of his space and the night air hits Steve like a bucket of ice water. Eddie winks at him and steps over the edge of the roof. 

By the time Carver and his guards arrive, the night has long swallowed him.

Part 2

All my holiday drabbles