#no one's gonna see this anyways so just consider it me blowing off steam rather than saying anything meaningful

[sege-h]

Storm the Hedgecat

OC ramble time for my pinned, in case people see him on @sonic-oc-showdown​ and end up wanting to know more without digging through lots of non context art and shitposts in my Storm tag! (Tho do that if you want anyways)

I’m gonna answer a buncha questions from an ask game now and since it’s kinda long + I might end up rambling anyway, I’m putting the rest under a readmore

✨- How did you come up with the OC’s name?

A long time ago before I was smart enough to know not to name my sonas or give them even a bit of OC backstory or they WILL become their own characters, Storm was meant to be my Sonic-sona. Back then I’d name my sonas Storm, or other words fused with ‘storm’. And since this was Sonic, I just named this one Storm. But it wasn’t long before he wasn’t my sona at all, and developed into his own standalone Sonic OC. But the name stuck.

In universe, his dad named him Storm because his bit of grey fur on blue reminded him of a clear sky with a storm cloud on it

🌼 - How old are they? (Or approximate age range)

In the ‘present’ time, Storm is 35. However due to shenanigans involving experiments, and an accident similar to a small contained super genesis wave, he is stuck forever looking like he did when he was 20, or younger considering he’s always had a baby face.

🌺- Do they have any love interest(s)?

Nope! Storm is acearo, and uninterested in romance! If any poor soul was stuck having a crush on him, he’d be none the wiser as flirting flies right over his head, as do any advances.

He is however a very affectionate person, and likes cuddling and being affectionate with his friends. I’m acearo and uninterested myself, so seeing stories like his where two (or more) people understand each other deeply, and would do anything for each other, and where they get to be affectionate without any of it developing into romance is very important to me

🍕 - What is their favorite food?

Waffles! He has good memories of his dad making them for him, and they have since developed into a comfort food for him

💼 - What do they do for a living?

He doesn’t need to do anything to get by, but he has made a company he kind of semi-runs that he makes very advanced prosthetics with. His patents come with clauses that they can’t go above a certain price, and sometimes he will just give them away to people anyway.

Nobody even knows he’s the owner save for his close circle, and if anyone else does know he’s with the company they think he’s just an engineer and the boss’ personal assistant. He’d prefer it stays that way, since he values his privacy

🎹 - Do they have any hobbies?

Yes! He participates in underground fights. He gets really frustrated sometimes, and he’d rather blow off steam that way. It also started out as a way for him to earn his own money on the side so he wouldn’t feel like he’s relying entirely on his brother.

He also likes tinkering with machines. It’s a good distraction and something he likes doing. He likes coming up with concepts for weaponized robotic arms (these are never for sale), whether they make it past the blueprints and prototypes depends entirely on if they hold his interest or not. Sometimes he makes ones he actually uses.

He plays guitar whenever the mood strikes also.

🎯 -What do they do best?

In his own opinion? Fighting!

Storm is an individual that isn’t very confident- but the one thing that’s an exception to this are his fighting skills! Even when he loses, he’s not hard on himself over it like with other things, and sees it instead as something that was fun and that he can learn from. He’s also an excellent swordsman

🥊 -What do they love to do? What do they hate to do?

Loves:

Fighting/sparring, tinkering with machines, eating homecooked food, cuddling with his closest friends, learning new things about other zones/dimensions and how they’re different from his, playing guitar, listening to friends talk about their interests, listening to loved ones sing, going on motorcycle joyrides with V, driving his truck, causing (non-malicious) chaos- especially in the lives of people he finds annoying

Hates:

Doing mathematical calculations, listening to arrogant people talk, eating spicy stuff, fighting people that were given no choice BUT to fight, looking up at tall people (friends are an exception), being surrounded by water/being on boats, going to the hospital

❤️ - What is one of your OC’s best memories?

Getting to watch/listen to his dad play the guitar just for him. It’s what made him want to learn it himself

✂️ - What is one of your OC’s worst memories?

The day he almost lost his brother. This memory only got worse down the line as he ran into an evil alternate of his- their lives/timelines had been the same up until that point. Storm is all too aware of exactly the moment his alternate chose his path, and that he himself had been seconds away from it, with the only thing saving him and everyone else around him being that his brother took in another breath and came back.

🧊 - Is their current design the first one?

It’s pretty close! Artistic growth aside, his quills used to be longer and less messy, his bangs were also less messy, he had no pants, his boots used to be shoes, and he had a triangular bandana. He still had the smaller back quill though, and though you can’t see it here he used to have a huge scar on his chest.

His color scheme has stayed relatively the same, it’s not as pale anymore now that I have a better grasp of colors and coloring digitally

🍀 - What originally inspired the OC?

The Sonic franchise obv- though he was also made as my first non recolor OC! I’d had plenty of recolor OCs, and I’d had a bit of a pause between making them and Storm. So when I decided to make another OC I decided to finally make one where I wouldn’t be recoloring a Sonic, Tails, or Knuckles base

The current iteration of Storm was inspired by me seeing the GUN truck from Generations in 2011, the one with the saws, and thinking ‘who would drive that truck?’ and then putting my blorbo in the drivers seat

Here’s a character inspiration meme I did some months ago that also puts together some of his inspirations-- not all of these are direct inspirations and are rather characters I found later on that were similar to Storm and that I could point to for people to better understand him like ‘see this thing this character does? That’s what Storm’s like’

(I’ve since watched the original ‘98 Trigun anime, and Vash would DEFINITELY go on there now. I didn’t know anything about him before, but there’s just so many parallels between him and Storm)

🌂 - What genre do they belong in?

I don’t really slot my OCs into genres, since I feel like that can get pretty limiting for me. Like I could say shonen, but even that only fits as far as ‘character getting stronger as the story progresses, also seemingly has willpower and friendship powers’

Maybe whatever Trigun ‘98 has going on?? SHDGSH A mix of tragedy and comedy, a story about a seemingly goofy that’s more than he seems, from his life to his skillset

💚 - What is your OC’s gender identity and sexuality?

Storm is cis but doesn’t care much for any gender roles or how he presents himself, and he’s acearo!

🙌 - How many sibling does your OC have?

He has no biological siblings, but has a few that are either adoptive siblings or adoptive sibling adjacent! Exe (who belongs to rMADA on FA) and is his oldest adoptive family (though Storm no longer remembers the early years before he met Exe again)

V (who belongs to riftclaw on here and is also part of the tournament!)- they both consider each other ‘pack’, but there’s enough sibling energy here that Storm can introduce himself like either Vs brother or weird sibling if it’s easier.

Luka (who also belongs to riftclaw) who he tends to have sibling “arguments” with a lot, even though at the end of the day they’ll cuddle together (while still “arguing”). It lets Luka let out a lot of pent up energy, and Storm finds the whole thing hilarious and to be familiar territory so he’s more than happy to play along

He also has a couple alternates that he’s ran into, or will run into along the course of his story, that he considers his brothers.

He has a whole adoptive family, but these are the people that he’d label ‘siblings’ if he has to put any label on them, though that they’re family is enough for him.

🍎 - What is the OC’s relationship w/their parents like?

OUGH. Storm’s relationship with his dad was shaping up to be a great one, before it was cut short in a tragic accident during a training session with Exe. Atos was a great dad. He wanted his son to have everything he couldn’t have as a child- normalcy, love, and no expectations that could never be met.

After he died, things went downhill fast with Storm’s mom. Storm’s terrified of her to this day even though she’s no longer alive either.

🧠 - What do you like most about the OC?

How long he’s stuck around, and how I can use him as an experiment to try out new art styles because I’m just so used to drawing him.

Story-wise I like that he can zone hop/travel dimensions, because I can fling him at whatever setting feels fitting, along with him meeting new people being no problem

✏️ - How often do you draw/write about the OC?

TOO MUCH PROBABLY. Even when I don’t do serious art I like doing little doodles of him with stuff that pops into my head.

He’s the character I draw the most, and the character I write about the most

💎 - Do you ever see yourself killing off the OC?

NOPE not the main version of him. There Is a verse where he’s ended up dead. But his main verse story hasn’t had him die

💀 - Does your OC have any phobias?

LORT for someone that flings himself at danger whenever he sees fit, he also fears a lot.

He’s terrified of deep water. He CAN swim, but would prefer not to. He’ll swim in the shallows if he has to cool off badly, but deep water makes him panic.

He’s afraid of clowns and also puppets He’s afraid of needles

Not quite a phobia, but he hates the sound of loud wind, especially when he knows a blizzard is happening outside.

He’ll panic if he wakes up to the sound of a drill

He hates the smell of whiskey

And again not a phobia, but a trigger- it’s activated if he’s sparring someone and they rest their foot on his back while he’s already down. It has to do with the day he lost his arm

🍩 -Who is your OC’s arch-nemesis or rival?

He doesn’t quite have any! If anyone considers him a rival, it’s pretty one sided because he’s oblivious to it

His arch nemesis was the guy that took his arm, but through story progression he became his rival, and now their relationship is more of a friendship that neither will admit to. They’re sparring partners. Storm likes to annoy him

(Art by rMADA/Xx_G.U.N_xX on FA)

🎓 - How long have you had the OC?

Since 2011! I THINK I made the first iteration of him in either late 2010 or early 2011. But then Sonic Generations came out with THAT TRUCK, and me and my friends started doing a silly GUN Agent chat rp. So I made an au of Storm called ‘Agent Storm’ that drove the be-buzzsaw’d GUN truck. But then as the story progressed, I began to adore that version of the character so he just became the main verse for him

His story has remained fairly same-ish. Even though at the start you can see a definitive sign of that good ol ‘teenager writing angst’ type of story, I’ve left it fairly intact. I’ve only changed parts that were like ‘yeah this is too much’ or where I just couldn’t fit in some characters or storylines anymore. I like having it as a sort of timeline to how my storytelling has developed

🍥 - What age were you when you created the OC?

17!

SOME EXTRA FUN FACTS:

-Storm was the one that added the buzzsaws and jet boosters to the GUN truck. They didn’t let him do much but transport cargo, so he started reading up on engineering and robotics and tinkering in the abundance of spare time he had. He added those thing to the truck out of boredom, and didn’t think he’d ever really use them- cargo transport is rarely ever that exciting.

But then he was in the middle of a drive when he heard over the comms that Sonic the Hedgehog had escaped captivity near his area and. Well. The rest is history

-He’s since left GUN and stolen took the truck. He and his brother Exe have formed their own team through which they feel they can help the world more. Part of their activities include tracking down facilities (that are often GUN supported) that deal in Mobian experimentation, and shutting them down/destroying them (not with the experiments still in them)

-He’s Terrified of Shadow due to events in his universe. He’s trying to be better about it

-The ‘goofy clueless idiot’ behavior is all an act

-He has a fake southern accent as part of his facade. Yeehaw. A reminant of a childhood ‘dream job’ of being a cowboy that wanders around helping people where it’s needed

-Because he can zone hop, he has a few universes where he’s decided to stick around. One of them is a game/IDW verse. He went through the events of Forces there, and his initial plan was to just help out with the war and then leave forever. But then he became friends with that universe’s Sonic whoops.

He lowkey cursed the friendship when he also went through the zombot arc, but he’s never actually regretted it

-He platonically adores Rough and Tumble just from what he’s heard about them and what little he’s seen. He doesn’t take them seriously and thinks they’re so goofy and hilarious. He’s like “LOOK at them, they’re brothers! They got each other! They think they’re doin’ crimes!

-He often introduces himself as just a cat since it’s easier

-He has an ic/rp blog here in case you have any questions and wanna ask him ‘directly’ @sentientquillbeast​

IF YOU READ ALL THIS, thank you!

This post is already long enough so I don’t regret adding one of my favorite pics of him that I did for a zine

[unluckyxse7en]

I'm so tired of being critical about what I consume. And by that really what I mean is I'm tired of waiting to be shamed for any given thing when like. There's always Something to find fault in for any given piece of media.

And maybe that's a sign I just really know how to gravitate to the wrong stuff? But there's always a reason, from even a single 'off color' joke that encourages some form of bigotry to the creator being horrible, to the company that produces any tv form of it being even worse.

And people are choosing to show their activism by shaming people via inbox or in replies. On Tumblr. The world's most listened to and popular site, especially known for raising awareness on shitty things in media or the world at large.

Oh wait.

Point being... I don't think people should drop their activism entirely. But seeing a one off fandom post and just Knowing someone (or someones plural) had to remind everyone there how shitty x or y is in that franchise is just. Exhausting. Tumblr is meant as a site for sharing memes and writing goofy posts, and some people need that. Some people need good silly things to feel like the rest is worth fighting for.

Like... The world is shitty and we already have posts dedicated to reminding us of that and how to be mindful of that. Let us have goofy posts too, if they're not doing any harm.

[coffee-obsessed-writer]

Winchester Drabbles: Saturday Afternoon at Harvelle’s

Dean Winchester x Reader

A/N: As I was listening to my playlist, Travelling Riverside Blues came on, and of course it always brings to mind, Dean Winchester. This little drabble is the result. 

Summary: After a run-of-the-mill hunt, Dean goes to blow off some steam at Harvelle’s to shoot some pool and drink a beer.

Song Prompt: Travelling Riverside Blues

WC: 1.5K

Warnings: None, just a silly lil blurb.

The sound of the quarter hitting the metal slide in the jukebox was one of his favorite sounds. Only to be made better by the sound of his favorite song blaring through all of Harvelle’s. The opening licks of Traveling Riverside Blues gave his confidence a boost, and brought out that swagger he had, but tried to save for special occasions. 

Dean slid out of his dad’s old leather coat and draped it across a high-back bar stool near the pool table. Harvelle’s was fairly empty for a Saturday afternoon, but he didn’t care. He wasn’t there for the crowd, he was there to blow off some steam. The last hunt had been a real bitch, and of course Sammy had to throw in his two cents on Dean’s outlandish move of taking on three vamps at once. 

No matter, he thought as he racked a game of Nine-Ball, it’s Miller time…

Taking his place at the head of the table, Dean bent over the green felt and gripped the pool cue just as his father had shown him years before. Stroking the cue until he felt he had the right momentum, he shot the white ball buzzing across the green and clashing into the color army of billiard balls, sending them far and wide across the table. 

Standing back and watching his handy work, rather proud of himself, the corner of his mouth kicked up into a smirk. 

Still got it, he thought as he watched the Nine go screaming into the far corner pocket. 

“You do know it's more fun to play with someone else, right?”

Dean turned around at the southern lilted voice, and felt his smirk grow wider. “Is it now?” Dean propped the cue against the table and gathered the balls that hadn’t sunk on his break. “Care to show me?”

His head nodded back towards his cue resting at the top of the table. 

“Might as well,” she said, “I got nowhere else to be.”

Dean made sure to rack the billiards extra tight. He stepped back and grabbed his beer off the table, taking a long slow sip, watching her over the brim of the bottle. 

She was confident, that’s for sure. He watched as she chalked up the cue stick and carefully studied the table. Dean was amused by the concentration on her face, causing her soft feminine features to be more determined and forceful. She looked like the kind of woman he could wanna know, but also the kind that could kick his ass. Both of those simultaneously turned him on and scared the shit out of him.

“So, you gonna break, or–”

“Oh, I'm gonna break. Don’t worry.” She bent over the felt, just as he had moments before, only from his point of view, he could see the top lace of her bra peeking out from under the deep red tank top she wore. 

Just as he was about to make another quip, he saw her line up her shot, then look up and meet his gaze as he pulled back and sent her stick piercing the cue ball right in the middle. It flew across the green and crashed into the tight rack of billiards. Dean’s brow rose, impressed, as several of the balls found home in a pocket, leaving merely four left, including the yellow and white striped nine-ball.

“I’m impressed,” he said, swigging his beer one more time before putting it down and taking control of the cue stick again.

“You should be. Considering that you racked them in your favor. A rack that tight…”

Dean interrupted her with a shrug, and a wink. “Sorry, sweetheart, can’t help it if my hands are strong and my rack is tight.”

“No worries,” she said, casually strolling to where he just stood, “I’m going to win on my next shot anyway.” Tossing a glance towards the small bar-topped table, she grabbed his beer and sipped it, never taking her eyes off him.

Dean’s smirk never faded, even as he watched her finish off his beer. “Wanna bet?”

“Why not. What could I possibly have to lose?” He found her arrogance infuriating, but so goddamn hot, especially when she leaned back her elbows to rest on the table behind her, pushing her chest out every so slightly.

“To start, you buy the next round, shots and beers.”

“Shots, too?” She smiled and took his offer into consideration. “Ok. Done.”

Dean shook his head and slowly stalked the table in front of him, looking for a shot that would allow him to win right then and there. He had a shot on the nine, by hitting the four first, but he would have to jump the four over the seven and hit the nine square on the middle to kick it into the side pocket. 

Easy peasy, he told himself as he took position on the table and lined up his shot. Again, stroking the cue until he found the right rhythm, he thrust it forward and prayed the balls did as he wanted them too. They did not comply, and the four ball instead kicked the nine in the opposite direction, but sent the cue ball spinning off into the far corner pocket. 

“Hmmm… looks like ball in hand, to me.” 

She didn’t wait for him to offer up his stick, instead she grabbed her own off the wall and took her time chalking it well. Plucking the cue ball from the under-table return, she palmed it gently, and took her time examining the possibilities. 

“Choices, choices…” she mumbled, then looked over a Dean, who was starting to feel a little antsy. “If I keep it behind the second line, house rules ya know, wanna add a little more on that bet?”

“Such as?”

“Throw in some dinner, your treat of course.”

Dean laughed and shook his head. “If you can make that nine disappear in a legal shot from behind that second dot, I’ll buy you a whole surf ‘n turf from the Ponderosa.”

Her smile made his breath hitch in his throat a little, and the denim of his jeans a bit tighter. 

“You’re on,” she said, her accent a little more noticeable and her tone lustful.

Dean was trying to play it cool, but it was getting more difficult. This time when she placed the cue behind the line at the head of the table, poised between the next ball in the game and the nine, the lace of the bra wasn’t all she was revealing. The girl was good, she knew just how to position herself for maximum distraction. By her expression, Dean could tell not only did she know what she was doing, she liked it. 

He watched, albeit nervously, as she perfected the line up, and then pulled back in one long swift motion, causing the cue to hit the four, rebound off the rail and spin at record speed into the nine. Somehow, it didn’t hit any of the remaining billiards in the way, and squarely hit the game winning ball into the hole. The cue ball rolled towards the opposite pocket, and Dean’s small glimmer of hope grew for a brief moment; finally dying as the cue ball’s spin did the same. 

“So, wanna have those drinks before dinner? Or Vice versa?”

Dean hung his chin to his chest and slowly shook his head in disbelief. 

“How the hell did you make that shot?” He was so distracted by the grace with which she one, he didn’t notice her laying down the cue and walking around the table closer to him. “Seriously though, how?”

“My boyfriend taught me how to shoot pool. He’s away a lot, so I have tons of time on my hands to practice.”

Dean turned and saw how close she was. The fire and beauty in her eyes as she stared him down broke his last resolve. He grabbed her waist and pulled her into him, leaving no room for any doubt that she was his girl.

“Oh do ya now?” His needy green eyes drank her in, every freckle, every strand of hair… 

She didn’t flinch at his touch, instead melted into his arms, and breathed in his scent. “Mhm, I do.” 

The game, both figuratively and literally was done. He couldn’t wait another second to feel her lips on his, and kissed her in grand fashion in Harvelle’s Roadhouse on a Saturday afternoon. When he had gotten his fill, he briefly pulled back and smiled his softest smile. 

“Thought you weren’t getting in until tomorrow,” he asked, but pretty damn grateful she was there early.

“Like I could wait an extra twenty-four hours to see you…” she replied, biting her lower lip in a smile, then going back for more of his touch. Now that she had her fill, she was the one to pull back a little. “I was serious about that dinner though, I’m starving.”

“My girl wants dinner, then that’s what we do,” Dean said, with the corner of his mouth twitching up into a sly grin. “But, uh, wanna make it take out and go back to the hotel?”

“God yes!” She laughed, and grabbed his hand. 

Dean pulled his dad’s leather coat off the back of the high-rise stool and followed his girl out of Harvelle’s and off to have the reunion they had both been desperately needing.

Tags: @wings-of-a-raven @negans-wife @kazosa @deans-baby-momma @hobby27 @breereadsthings @maddiepants @screechingartisancashbailiff @cloverhighfive  @linki-locks11 @stoneyggirl @clarinette07 @lefthologramdeer @destielhoneybee  @katehuntington @81mysteriouslyme @mrswhozeewhatsis @deathofmissjackson  @akshi8278 @rebelminxy @fictionalabyss @blackcherrywhiskey @his-paradox @destielhoneybee @donnaintx @squirrelnotsam​ @weepingwillowphoenix​ @austin-winchester67​ @krazykelly​ @igotmadskills​ @sorenmarie87​ @lovealways-j​ @deanwinchesterswitch​

[f4gdilf]

𝗜𝗭𝗨𝗞𝗨 𝗠𝗜𝗗𝗢𝗥𝗜𝗬𝗔 𝘅 𝗧𝗢𝗣 𝗠𝗔𝗟𝗘 𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥

𝗔/𝗡; 𝗜 𝗧𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝗯𝗲 𝗮𝘀 𝗱𝗲𝘀𝗰𝗿𝗶𝗽𝘁𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝗮𝘀 𝗶 𝗰𝗮𝗻 𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝗶 𝗳𝗲𝗲𝗹 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗶𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝘀𝗻’𝘁 𝗲𝗻𝗼𝘂𝗴𝗵 𝗹𝗼𝗹. 𝗔𝗹𝘀𝗼 𝗶𝘇𝘂𝗸𝘂 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝗮 𝗯𝗮𝗱 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗼 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗿𝘁 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗮 𝗹𝗼𝘁 𝗼𝗳 𝗽𝗲𝗼𝗽𝗹𝗲 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗵𝗶𝗺. 𝗗𝗲𝗱𝗶𝗰𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 @sinfulcries 𝗙𝗼𝗿 𝗶𝗻𝘀𝗽𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗺𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝘄𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗲.

𝗪𝗢𝗥𝗗𝗦; 𝟭,𝟱𝟮𝟴

𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦; 𝗗𝗘𝗚𝗥𝗔𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗚, 𝗛𝗔��𝗗𝗝𝗢𝗕𝗦, 𝗖𝗛𝗘𝗔��𝗜𝗡𝗚, 𝗦𝗣𝗔𝗡𝗞𝗜𝗡𝗚, 𝗣𝗔𝗜𝗡 𝗣𝗟𝗔𝗬, 𝗞𝗜𝗡𝗗𝗔 𝗦𝗛𝗢𝗪𝗘𝗥 𝗦𝗘𝗫, 𝗖𝗟𝗜𝗙𝗙𝗛𝗔𝗡𝗚𝗘𝗥𝗦, 𝗖𝗥𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗬 𝗪𝗥𝗜𝗧𝗜𝗡𝗚, 𝗜𝗭𝗨𝗞𝗨 𝗕𝗘𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗔 𝗪𝗛𝗢𝗥𝗘 𝗙𝗢𝗥 𝗦𝗢𝗠𝗘 𝗗𝗜𝗖𝗞.

You could barely remember when this exchange first started.

One second, you were chatting with the Number One pro hero, Deku, Taking him on a small lunch date and before you knew it, you two were involved in an even more sexual relationship.

To be honest, You didn’t know you Two were sinning as much as you were. Deku never told you about his girlfriend, A fellow pro hero named Uravity.

You know...Uraraka Ochako, Current Number 5 in rescue heroes.

Your eyes narrowed towards Izuku as his built frame entered your apartment, Looking pathetically chaotic. It's likely because his patrol ended an hour ago and he probably hurried here. He knew you saw the news about him and Uraraka dating since high school.

Your large hand gripped lightly at your favorite mug filled with warm black coffee “so..” you took a loud sip, warmth filling your entire body “..why are you here? Don't you feel bad about cheating on your girlfriend?” you mocked, steamy mug still rested on your lips “or did you perhaps come to say farewell?”

“S-sir..” you rolled your eyes. he only calls you that in bed, no wonder he came without saying anything. The Little Bitch wants some goodbye sex.

Midoriya bit his lip in nervousness, impatience filled him. He took a step forward, Feet encased in the Shaggy carpet below him. You eyed him curiously, watching as he removed any leftover space between your bodies.

You held out a hand, stopping him momentarily before he got too close. Izuku grimaced as his cheeks lit up in disgrace. This was embarrassing enough to crawl to you like some slut. You should be crawling towards him, begging to fuck him instead.

For some reason, he kind of liked the humiliation, his small cock twitching in need and anticipation. His abdomen felt like there was a fire igniting inside of it. And a small sheepish smile worked itself on his delicate face as his rough hands gripped the one that was holding him off.

Curiosity and arouse was the only thing you could feel right now. His hands placed yours and moved it towards his crotch. “I came here for you, sir” his calm voice called out as your guided hand finally arrived at its destination.

His grip softened onto your lone hand. His small cock was rock hard, you could feel it pressing against you from behind the thick fabric that trapped it. You undid his sturdy belt and let his pants fall towards his bruised knees. Oh would you look at this, the slut didn't bother to wear underwear today.

It surprised you that Uraraka stayed with him for this long, his small cock looked like it could barely get anyone off. It hardly reached under his belly button. The cock itself looked very pretty though. The head isn’t bulbous or red, but it’s rather a nice shade of pink. He takes consideration of himself down there. He trims, cleans, and even gets waxes to make sure everything looks hairless and smooth.

Your hand clutched tighter onto his pathetic cock making him whine and shudder. “You like that? Little slut..” you insulted, Itching to bend him over and take him from behind right then and there.

Your fingers grazed upon him, stroking and pulling across his length. Izuku’s whines began to grow louder as your torment continued. “P-please sir I'm gonna c-cum” he stuttered, trembling and rough hands grabbing onto anything he could reach.

“Cumming already? We just started~” Your smooth and silky voice teased, “Aren’t you ashamed for Fucking an innocent civilian while your girlfriend is probably risking her life on the streets?” your stroking pace ceased for a moment, eyes pointing towards his Pretty face now.

He flushed heavily, head turned to the side in hopes you wouldn't see how flustered he was. Izuku mumbled something that your ears could barely pick up “hmm not that I care anyway, you're only an onahole to use.” you glared.

You moved from his cock and clenched his small hips, the Wide bones felt like they were poking from the thick skin coating it. Other than that, His milky skin felt soft and smooth, he puts on lotion and other body products before bed so it would make sense.

You stood hastily, Izuku didn't have time to comprehend the sharp movement before you snatched his left arm and speedily walked towards the bathroom. Like hell you'd let this slut’s cum get onto your expensive mattress.

Midoriya unwillingly trembled at your manhandling, although you were just a plain civilian, and Midoriya could easily push you off, he didn’t.

Because he was a cum slut and would spread his legs for anyone.

You caught sight of the Shower knob and twisted it tightly so the showerhead above would start. And so it did. Warm water in multiple heavy spurts rained onto you both.

Clothes Started clinging on bodies, water started wetting hair, and Bodies started warming up.

Izuku stumbled for a bit, drunk off of a deterred orgasm. before shakily pulling his wet clothing off of him until he was fully nude. It wasn't anything you haven't seen before.

“Are you fucking with me? One time wasn't enough for you?” You scoffed after seeing the numerous Hickeys lacing his fair-skinned neck. It seemed like this slut and Ochako has been Fucking recently. Unless he'd been cheating with someone entirely different.

“Your girlfriend couldn't satisfy your needs, slut?" You grumbled, "or perhaps do you just yearn for the highs of cheating?"

Izuku could get off a million times with that explicit mouth of yours. It filled him with Joy watching you get jealous.

He craved more.

No, needed more.

You had everything Uraraka didn't, it's like he was meant to end up with you instead. Uraraka couldn't satisfy his desires, she was always too soft during sex and only treated him like glass.

He needed a big fat cock to worship and fuck every day, she obviously didn't have that so that's where you came to play.

You made him work for your pleasure and not the other way around. He was made just for you.

“Bend over and show me my prize” you dictated, too impatient for foreplay and just wanting to punish this disgusting whore. A couple of tense seconds passed. “Did you not fucking hear me? I said bend. Over.” You watched as Izuku gave a feeble nod before twisting and presenting his ass for you.

Your smooth hands moved lightly on his milky pale cheeks, they felt like clouds in the palm of your hands. His ass was definitely the reason you continued hooking up with him. It was like touching two soft marshmallows. Soon enough Izuku inhaled sharply as your hand came down harsh on his ass. The pain was duplicated with the high pressured water pelting over him.

Of course, you didn't care if he was in pain. The jiggle from his cheeks looks amazing and almost delectable.

You followed up with three more harsh whacks across his arse, reaching further than a dozen or so blindingly rapid blows, and Midoriya nibbled on his lips, trying his hardest not to jerk away from the successive blows. He didn't want to disappoint you, though Just the thought of you getting mad enough to fuck him for hours made his tiny cock twitch in need.

"P-please...sir.." Midoriya wailed. The teasing was starting to get too much for him. Izuku’s legs quiver by the time you ceased landing blows onto his arse which was pretty pink at the second. You could easily deduce the marks of your hands.

Midoriya cried submissively as the pain was frigid, fierce, and much more severe, far more harsher than the other times you've basically made his arse a bongo drum. considering you didn't have an intense job, What kind of innocent civilian is this strong?

You yanked Izuku’s hips, and whirled him so his ass hit the tiled wall, he let out a relieved cry. the icy tiles comforted his stinging ass.

You pinned Izuku closely against the tile wall, your hips dwelling against his. Your thick cock grazing upon his dainty flesh. You briefly glimpsed low at Izuku, shaking your head when you spot his erection.

"Hm, you dirty slut. Getting off on me degrading you" you smirked, gouging your nail into the slit seeping with a drastic amount of precum.

The sharp pain made Midoriya shudder, clenching around your wrist.

"Mm, sir..." Midoriya whimpered, "...please, please...fuck me, I'll do anything.." your narrowed eyes widened in surprise, honestly considering the offer “Anything, you say?” your voice traveled through the steaming shower as you leaned in closer to his right ear.

“Even break up with your girlfriend?” You whispered, tongue peeking out and glazing on his outer ear, across the helix and trailing downward before lightly biting down.

Izuku moaned quietly “O-of course sir, I'll do anything” that certainly wasn't a lie- the man would do absolutely anything for another taste of that thick muscle between your legs. Even separate from the most beautiful woman he'd ever laid eyes on. And you know why? Because he's your desperate slut.

[whats-rambled-rambled]

TA, dr and other abbreviations

Neil x Reader

summary: some time ago, Neil was a TA at your uni, now you meet up again when he needs your help with his next mission

+ song: Chase Atlantic - Friends

warnings: language, alcohol mention, things get steamy so let’s say 18+

author’s note: that request was fun! 👀 I’ve enjoyed the dynamic between those two, so I decided to try something different in terms of the writing style. 

This is also the first one-shot not related to Stuck in Reverse series, can you believe?

Let me know what you think!

___

Your eyes dart towards your lab’s door, your brows raise at the sight of a familiar face. Your day just got a whole lot better.

“Good afternoon, I’m looking for doctor-...” a man at the door glances at you and he skips a beat, clearly trying to remember where does he know you from.

You don’t feel like helping him to figure it out though. To be fair, you’ve changed quite a lot over those last 10 years. You smile to yourself as you think about your younger self, always so anxious and flustered in Neil’s presence. If only she could see you now. She would appreciate the glow-up, that’s for sure.

God, you used to have the biggest crush on him. Not that he knew about it, of course. He was 8 years older than you, also he was a TA during your uni time. You talked sometimes, but that was all, you knew he was seeing someone back then; you settled down for daydreaming about his blue eyes and dying a bit inside whenever you saw him.

And now he’s here, still as hot and gorgeous as ever.

You put on your most polite expression, fighting the smug grin from appearing on your face.

“While I kinda enjoy seeing your puzzled face, I’m also quite busy, so I'm gonna give you a tip – your little TA gig a few years ago.”

Neil’s gaze flares up as he looks you up and down, still a bit confused, trying to match the image he remembers to your present look. 

He blinks twice, composes himself, and proceeds with his request for your aid.

When he leans over your desk and shows you the mission’s brief on his tablet, you notice that he wears the same cologne as he used to all those years ago. Your heart flutters in your chest, but definitely not in that old, nervous way. You chew on your bottom lip, trying to stay focused on Neil’s words. You must admit, the sudden change in dynamic is thrilling. As you help him go through some of the details regarding his next assignment, you wonder if you’re gonna see him more frequently from now on.

You certainly wouldn’t mind.

This time, the Universe smiles upon you.

Neil pops into your lab more and more often. 

At first, it’s all related to work. 

After some time, you begin to wonder if he doesn’t look for just any excuse to come over. You don’t care though, you really enjoy his company. 

And it seems like Neil’s grown quite fond of you himself. 

Now that he’s finally wrapped his mind around the new you, his blue eyes always light up in your presence. You don’t even realize the exact moment when his usual charming demeanor becomes straight up flirtatious. 

But when you notice that change, oh my, the game is on.

Well, he still keeps it all professional, of course. 

It’s the little things. That slight change of posture. The accidental brush of his fingers on your hand when he passes you things. Or that light touch on your shoulder when you both lean over the desk and go through some papers needed for his missions. 

The intense stare right into your eyes, with a corner of his lips twitched in a half-smile. 

But you can give as good as you get. 

The way you tilt your head and expose your neck when he’s standing close. Taking that little extra step in his direction when you talk, stopping at the verge of his personal space as you watch him hold his breath for a second. A bit of playful teasing, sometimes involving light tugs at his tie.

And that last thing always ends up with Neil almost forgetting the tongue in his mouth. Almost. 

...Sometimes you ask yourself if you’re not having too much fun when he’s around. You’re at work, after all.

It’s one of those evenings. You should’ve gone home a long time ago, instead, you’re hanging out with Neil, talking about everything and nothing in particular.

Your phone beeps. You read a short message and you muse over it for a moment. You know that your companion is gonna leave soon, late-night mission or whatever; the suggestion to blow off steam you’ve received sounds like just what you need. 

You meet Neil’s curious look and you realize you’ve let a sly grin appear on your face.

You shrug.

“A booty call,” you say in the most casual tone.

A hint of satisfaction flashes in your eyes when you watch Neil’s very conflicted expression. You bite your lip to stifle a giggle. He’s adorable.

He crosses his arms, the corners of his mouth curl.

“Does that happen often?”

“Oh darling, a lady never kisses and tells. Why, do you want in on the list?” you tease, narrowing your eyes.

His eyebrow quirks. “There is a list, huh?”

“Is that a yes?” you grin, mimicking his raised brow.

He walks up to your desk and slowly reaches past you for his jacket, hung on the back of your seat.

And as his face gets right next to your ear-...

“Maybe.” 

When he pulls back and you see his blue eyes, how dark they are, it takes all your self-control to keep a straight face. But the question escapes your mouth anyway.

“See you later this week?” 

You mentally kick yourself for this moment of weakness.

“Hm,” he gives you a peculiar smile on his way out. 

Well, that wasn't exactly a yes.

At the door, he shoots you a quick look over his shoulder.

“Have fun.”

...does he seem a little pissed-off to you? 

And you have fun that night, all right. 

Even though all you can think about are those blue eyes and dirty blonde hair.

Then, Neil doesn’t show up for the next couple of days.

For a moment, you get tempted to check on him at the HQ, but you scoff at yourself. He’s a big boy, he can handle himself. 

When he finally walks into your lab, something feels different. 

You can’t put your finger on it. 

In the beginning, he’s just so official and it irks you. But you look into his eyes and… it almost seems like he’s taunting you. And it makes your heart increase its pace. 

Oh, you see how it is. 

On top of it all, he’s so annoying today.

He sits on the chair, loosening his tie, his legs spread, his gaze locked on you. 

After yet another snarky comment, you grit your teeth, trying to focus on the documents in front of you. 

“Neil, if you interrupt me one more time, so help me god.”

And he does. He does, leaning back on the chair with a smug smile. 

So... now what?

You scoff and close in on him.

“Why are you like this?” you utter, reaching for his tie.

The innocent look in his eyes.

“Like what?”

You give his tie a tug.

“Rude.”

And then that bastard runs the tongue over his lower lip and smirks.

Next thing you know, you straddle him on the chair, burying your fingers in his hair as his mouth crushes on yours. Neil wraps his arms around you and pulls you closer. The urgency of the kiss takes your breath away. You rock your hips and you brush against the bulk in his trousers, and oh god, it feels so good. Your head arches back. Neil’s breath and his lips on your neck drive you wild. You need him, right here, right now. You cling on to him for your dear life as you move your hips again and a sharp moan escapes his mouth. 

The abrupt knock on your door makes you both jump at your feet, trying to level your breaths. 

“Mate, I’ve been looking for you everywhere! Why the fuck are you not answering your phone, eh?”

As Ives enters the room, his eyes dart between the two of you, a wicked grin plastered on his face.

“Ah shit, I hope I am not interrupting?”

You roll your eyes as Neil simply glares at him.

The moment is gone, and so are they, leaving for yet another emergency operation.

A few days later, your friends take you out for drinks, and you definitely have one too many. 

…Or a few too many. 

You end up standing at Neil’s apartment door, pressing the doorbell excessively long.

He opens up, looking you up and down with an amused smile.

You poke him in the chest.

“Consider yourself booty-called.”

You giggle as you watch his eyes widen.

Neil clenches his jaw and takes a step back.

“Jesus... Come in?”

He takes your coat and you make your way inside. 

You are way past caring about small talks and whatnot. You pull on his shirt, trying to guide him towards that rather comfy looking couch. 

One more step. 

You want to kiss him, but Neil puts a finger on your mouth and shakes his head.

“What? I thought you wanted in on the list?” you ask as you sit down on the couch, your brows furrowed.

“Not like this.”

Wow, now your pride is hurt a little.

“Fine, I’m going home then,” you pout and try to get up quickly.

You underestimate the amount of alcohol in your system though, so you yelp and fall back. 

“You’re not going anywhere in this state,” he scoffs.

Why is he the way that he is?

“I’ll get you some coffee, make yourself comfortable.”

And so you do. You toss your shoes away and rest your head on one of the pillows. 

You close your eyes just for a second.

You open them up again when Neil covers you with a blanket. 

To be honest, you’re way too tired and cozy to argue.

When you notice the soft look in his blue eyes, your heart melts in your chest.

And because all your filters are off at this point, you say, “I really like you, you know?”

He chuckles and places a small kiss on the tip of your nose.

“Tell me that when you’re sober.”

The next morning… well, let’s just say that you wish the sun was shining a bit more quietly.

Neil glances at you from the kitchen.

“Morning.”

You don’t know what hits you first – the pounding headache or the nauseating dread at the thought of what’s happened last night.

“Fuck me,” you groan, hiding your face in your palms. 

And what do you hear in response?

“With pleasure. But how about we eat breakfast first?”

[passivenovember]

If Snow Loves the Trees and Fields.

Billy's job at Willowbrook Elementary is the only reason he puts up with this weather at all.

His hatred for winter, a season which hardly existed when he taught in the Valley, morphs and becomes something violent on the first Monday after Christmas break.

He wakes up feeling like his toes have gone missing, frozen black and blue with the cold, and after his phone tells him it's below zero outside, with wind-chill, his heart stops beating.

Hawkins is -10 degrees, to be precise.

And it leaves him feeling like that's gotta be illegal, or. He could for sure call all the scientists on Earth and have a law passed that clarifies: those born and raised in a Southern climate get a free pass on days when Hell is actively freezing over.

But it's not snowing today. And all the ice on the street has been scraped into terrible, disgusting drifts that block his driveway, and Hopper would immediately call bullshit. All, gonna have to suck it up if you wanna live here, buttercup.

So Billy decides to be an adult, or whatever. He spends another five minutes on his phone definitely not stalking his ex Instagram before rolling out of bed to get dressed.

And, like.

Even his underwear drawer is stiff from the cold so Billy decides to bundle the fuck up--a trick he learned from Max last fall, during the coldest year Indiana had ever seen. He manages to stack five layers in total; one pretty pink thermal set just brushing his his skin and a button down shirt to stave off the goosebumps. A sweater and jeans for professionalism. One Grateful Dead hoodie, because it makes him feel like he's not a total sell out, and a thick winter coat, sent special from the snow capped mountains of California this Christmas.

It still smells like his mom's pikake lei perfume.

Billy tries not to think about that, of home, on a day when he'd give his left nut for a ray of sunshine.

Instead, he spends ten minutes filling his thermos with coffee. Boiling the rice milk more than once so it'll stay warm on the ride across town. He sticks his pinky under the lip after his third go, and fuck that shit is so hot it will burn his mouth tomorrow, before checking the weather app again for closures.

Hoping against hope that something has changed in the last five minutes.

Of course, nothing has.

The superintendent believes that everyone in Hawkins is somehow used to temperatures that makes their eyelids freeze shut in the thirty second walk to the car in the morning. Billy jams a knit cap on his head and seriously considers calling in.

A last ditch effort to quell the rising fury in his veins, that like.

He's gonna have to scrape his windows, and freeze his dick off, and deal with the neighbor.

The one who looks like he doesn't mind the cold so much because he carries the sun with him, fucking asshole.

People shouldn't be wandering the streets when their eyelids could freeze shut, right?

Billy checks his phone one more time, frowning at a text from Joyce to pick up some coffee on your way in, and tosses his bag over his shoulder before he can change his mind.

--

It's so much worse than expected.

Billy's lungs seize up on his second intake of fresh air because no one should be huffing sulfur or gaseous ice or whatever the fuck this shit is first thing in the morning. On a Monday. The first one after Christmas break, and.

"God damn, holy shit, holy shit,"  Billy bounces the whole way to the Camaro, breath coming in short, comical bursts of steam that make his nose run. He swipes dramatically at his face, struggling to get his keys into the lock while balancing his thermos on one arm and his messenger bag on the other.

Billy's in the middle of forcing the door open, its hinges are frozen solid with ice goddammit, when Steve fucking Harrington appears like a cloud on the wind.

"Howdy neighbor," Steve says. Like they're cowboys in a shitty film from the 1970s. The wind kicks a lock of brown hair into Harrington's face and he shivers. "Wow, it's really blowing out here, huh?"

Midwesterner's love doing that.

Pointing out the obvious.

Billy grumbles a response, flinging his car door open and jamming the keys into the ignition.

Steve's saying something.

Talking like always, about his cat or maybe the beer they keep saying they'll have together, and generally Billy puts up with it but not today. He isn't going to freeze to death for a pair of legs.

The Camaro roars to life, clearly pissed at having to work on such a disgusting day, and. Alright. Letting your car "warm up," is something so Midwestern Billy can't even talk about it.

It takes him all of two minutes to scrape his windows, electing to carve holes in each wall of ice rather than clear the whole thing. The metal handle of the scraper Max got him feels like the ninth circle of hell against the peachy skin of his fingers.

He should've bought some mittens.

Joyce is always saying he needs mittens, he should've asked for some--

Billy tosses the scraper into his back seat and climbs in, slamming the door shut behind him and cranking the heat up to high. Steve's watching from next to the fence in a fucking pea coat, and a scarf with care bears on it and.

Nothing else.

Fucking asshole.

Steve waves at him, like; hey I'm talking to you. Frantically, like the mouse Mr. Bane caught last week is important.

But Billy's too busy trying to back out of the driveway with five layers of shit restricting his movement. He cranks the music up and cautiously pulls onto the street. Nice and smooth like he's seen Steve do effortlessly, even with three inches of ice on the ground. Fucking asshole.

Billy makes it halfway before he hits something.

The wind kicks hair into his face as he assesses the damage.

"You should've scraped your driveway last night." Steve says helpfully.

He's got a cigarette hanging from his lips, stark in contrast to the weird home made scarf he's got folded around his neck. Billy tries not to think about Steve's lips as he makes his way to the back of the Camaro to see that, yup.

Of course.

His baby is stuck in the snow. Billy kicks the tire. Like that'll fix anything.

"That's not gonna fix anything." Steve says, leaning against the fence.

"Jesus, fuck. I know, Steve." Billy scrubs a hand across his face, gesturing to the Care Bear scarf. "Why the hell are you wearing that thing, you look like a fruit."

"I am a fruit."

"Well you look like the whole goddamn bowl, pretty boy." Billy digs around for a cigarette. "My kindergarteners don't even fuck with the Care Bears enough to own scarves." Billy squints, assessing Steve from head to toe, delighting in the awkward squirm of his limbs. He clicks his tongue, disappointed. "Couldn't look any fruiter if you tried."

Steve shrugs his shoulders, like. Don't yell at me, this isn't my fault.

And okay.

He's cute.

Billy gets struck by that every time he sees the guy, all over again, like. His profile is perfect. Sharp nose, pretty eyes. Thick lips.

Steve holds out a cigarette.

Billy takes it.

"One of my residents made it for me. He's learning how to flat pattern." Harrington says shyly. "Well, he made it for his grand daughter, but. It turned out worse than he expected so I offered to take it."

Billy squints. "The fuck does that mean?"

"Just means I was trying to be nice--"

"No, the." Billy grins in spite of himself. "The flat patterning, what's that?"

Steve shrugs again. "I'm not sure, I think it's like. A sewing term. Or something." A pretty blush the color of Steve's scarf spreads across the bridge of his nose. It looks like strawberry ice cream and Billy.

Has to look away.

"My mom sews," Billy says gruffy. "I've never heard her say that."

"Well, maybe she drapes?"

Billy squints again. "What?"

"Draping. That's another thing people do--"

Billy stamps the cigarette out and kicks his tire again. Steve jolts, like. Billy tried to kick him or something, which just makes the situation worse.

"God, they should've cancelled classes." Billy states. Well, screams, to no one in particular. "Who wants to go to work in the snow, who fucking. Likes this white bullshit?"

Steve leans against the fence and looks thoughtful. "I love the snow."

"You're not helping."

"You asked."

"No, I didn't." Billy shoots back. He digs his cellphone out and shakes his head. "Why are you still here, Harrington? Don't you have old people to take care of?"

Steve chuckles again. Light, like Christmas bells. "Don't you have screaming brats to teach?"

"My car's kinda stuck in the snow, you fucking dick." Billy's so focused on trying to order a lyft that he doesn't waste time on pleasantries. He expects that to be the end of it, when the wind picks up and he swears again, but. Steve just moves closer.

"Let me drive you." Steve says.

And.

The moment sort of hangs there.

In the two years that Billy's lived next to the guy, they've never hung out. Never house sat for each other, never spoken outside the occasional could you make sure your idiot friends don't block my driveway, and empty promises to grab a beer sometime.

So the offer catches him off guard.

Billy glances up from his phone, confused, to find Steve looking everywhere but at him. Harrington's shifting his weight, like. He's fucking nervous, or something.

Or maybe hoping Billy will say no because he's just being polite.

Billy glares.

Of course he's just being neighborly. Charitable. That's what Midwestern assholes do.

Billy waves his phone in the air, like, "I'm ordering a lyft." And it comes out sharper. More aggressive than he means it too, but Steve doesn't seem to notice.

"Just ride with me, it's on the way."

Billy points at the screen. "Jason will be here in ten minutes."

"What's Jason got that I don't have?" Harington quips, and.

Billy just wants shit to go back to normal. He shakes his head again, "Nah, 's okay, pretty boy. Thanks anyway." Before turning back to his phone like he's got important shit to worry about.

Steve stands.

Stares.

Waits, for longer than is necessary, before clearing his throat. "Okay, well. Happy first day back." He says.

And if Billy didn’t know any better he'd say Steve sounds almost.

Disappointed.

--

When Billy gets off of work that night the snow is gone from his driveway.

--

Billy still has bad days.

They always start before dawn. With the claws of his nightmare leaving scratches down the lining of his throat. It's like Billy's carrying an anchor around his neck, or his veins are filled with playdough the color of the sun on those afternoons. He feels lazy and sluggish and like if someone looks at him for too long he'll break. Snap and crackle, like an open flame against fresh skin.

Billy still has bad days but they don't come unless he's been slipping for a while. Like forgetting to take his medication, or not writing his letter every night before bed.

The one to Neil, that his therapist says will help him work through the last of the road blocks that stand in the way of, "ultimate healing."

Billy used to think it was horseshit.

But Neil. Everything that happened, everything that still happens--when Billy goes home for Christmas, or when Susan calls and he can hear the slur of hate on the other end of the line--is standing in the way of something.

There are so many letters.

So much he wants to say.

Written on anything Billy can find, like. Napkins and the backs of take out menus--old drawings that the kids send home with him after Art class on Fridays.

The pages are kept in a binder.

His therapist says it's important to decorate the binder with, like. Stuff that makes him feel good. Words and phrases, stickers, pictures of the people he loves and drawings of all his favorite things. The folder is supposed to act as a visual reminder of the blanket of love that surrounds him, or something.

Melvalds only had brown folders when he went to pick his up, so.

The folder is brown. Disgusting.

And so far the only decorations he's been able to stomach are one of those fancy stickers from Redbubble that depicts his favorite episode of Daria, and a picture of him and Maxine with underwear on their heads.

Billy thinks it could be sad to some people.

That a poor, little abused boy only has two things in life that protect him from the shadow which falls with the setting sun, but it's the truth. Life is hard and fucked up. Billy has trouble letting people close, letting people in, so he sticks with the basics. The tried and true.

Maxine and his gravity bong.

Billy Hargrove is a simple man.

--

So it's two weeks after Steve shovels his driveway and Billy tells his therapist, like. "This fucking guy just. Did something nice for me."

And she clearly wonders what's wrong with him. "Did you say thank you?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because," Billy tries not to get defensive about shit these days, because. It's only a hop-skip-and a jump from defensiveness to downright aggression and Megan, his well meaning shrink, doesn't deserve that even on her most annoying days.

His leg bounces under the table, thwacking against its mahogany edge loud enough that Megan can hear it over the fucking phone, so she says, "Billy. Stop."

Because they have a deal about nervous ticks.

Billy is supposed to say his safe word when he starts to feel anxious, but.

He fucking hates that shit. Hates being babied. Hates feeling like he's a goddamn basket case that needs to be rooted in reality when his trauma rears its ugly head. Billy smiles, the whole thing falling flat against his face. "I'm stopping."

Megan sighs. "Why haven't you thanked Steve for his act of kindness?"

"Because, like." Billy's shaking his leg again. Softer this time; it's a secret. "How do I know he isn't trying to, fucking. Get information out of me. Or out me to the community, or. Make fun of the way I'm a grown man who can't shovel his own driveway after a snowstorm--"

"I think you're internalizing your fears, Billy."

"Yeah, no shit." He snaps. Billy feels bad for half a second but then she's giggling, like she always does, which makes him feel less like the big bad wolf and more like one of the three little pigs. The guy with the straw, maybe?

Billy sighs, scrubbing at his face. "What does that even mean?"

Megan makes a noise on the other end of the line, like. In the six months that Billy's been in therapy he should've learned this by now.

Dude's got a short attention span, sue him.

And, sure enough. "Twice a week we meet over the phone and you don't know that internalizing your fears means you're trying to write the ending to a story you haven't even read yet?"

"Like, uh," Billy says intelligently. "What's that shit you're always saying? About seeing a book on the shelf and--"

"Guessing the ending. Yup, that's right." Megan sounds pleased. Billy ignores the bloom of happiness in his chest, because like. He doesn't really deserve it. She doesn't give him time to dwell, though. "Steve did something nice for you. Maybe he has suspicious intent--"

Billy sucks in a breath, like.

Dramatic. Loud enough that Megan snorts and says, "Hold on, you're jumping to conclusions again."

Billy really fucking.

Hates how perceptive she can be.

Megan keeps talking and Billy listens, because he pays her after all. "If you're really worried that his intentions are cloudy, do something nice for him in return."

"Something nice," Billy repeats. Like he's never heard of such a concept. "Something nice, like. Buy him flowers?"

Megan snorts. "Do you want to buy him flowers?"

"No, why would you think that?"

"Because you--" His therapist sighs. Billy embraces the feeling it gives him, yanking her chain a little bit. "Listen. I don't know this Steve person, and I've never heard you talk about him beyond this beer you're supposed to have together, like. Never. But has he ever given you a reason to think he's out to hurt you?"

Billy thinks back over two years and a million one-dimensional interactions.

Steve never loses his temper.

Not when Billy calls to have the cars that block his driveway towed, not when Billy bitches about the daisy bushes shedding into his yard in the fall, and Steve always picks up Mr. Bane's cat shit from Billy's front porch when the Gremlin actually goes outside.

Always with a smile and a sweet little, I think Mr. B likes you.

And, like.

It was pretty nice of Steve to offer Billy a ride that morning.

And shovel his driveway after work, just because he knew Billy probably wouldn't do it.

The whole thing, it. Fills Billy with something he can't quite express, a warmth he only ever feels when Max calls a dozen times to remind him to eat dinner when he sends a few intense messages.

Megan takes his silence, as always, like a breakthrough.

"So," She says, clearly satisfied. "Same time next week?"

--

Billy spends three days waiting for Steve to make it easy for him.

Because Harrington's a home owner, and there's always something, right? A problem he needs help with, like. A leaky pipe that needs fixed, a cup of sugar for a recipe that he didn't account for, ghosts in the attic. Typical HOA bullshit.

Billy stares out his window at the lovely split level next door and decides he'll take anything, do anything, to get this fucking anchor of guilt off his back for the whole driveway situation. The opportunity never presents itself.

The ducks never fall in a row.

Steve just leaves the house every morning, same time as Billy, same as always, with a gentle Howdy neighbor. And a smile tugging at his pretty pink lips, hair perfect and windswept because he's a fucking asshole and it only takes two days.

Forty-eight hours before Billy's hatching a plan to pay Harrington back and inventing problems to solve, like some sort of demonic Bob the Builder.

He calls Max on Thursday and comes up with a list. Something tangible, like breaking Steve's garage window with a ski ball. Or trapping Mr. Bane in a sweater and pretending like he's gone missing so Steve will have to round up a search party, but.

Billy knows Megan would call that instigating, antagonizing, and causing trouble, which Billy's trying not to do anymore.

So he brings up flowers again, because.

Fuck it--maybe he's wanted to see Steve behind a bouquet of Lilies of the Valley for months now.

And Max goes all soft.

And quiet, too, before whispering, "I'm really proud of you, you know? For getting better."

Then suddenly Billy can't breathe because there's a lump in his throat.

Because he is trying to get better. To live honestly, to lead with love--whatever hippie-dippie bullshit Megan is always spoon feeding him, so.

With Max's blessing, Billy's about to, like. Knock on Steve's door with a plate of pot brownies and a shitty thanks for being a decent human card when Mr. Bane leaves a dead bird on Billy's porch, the third one in a month, and Billy hatches an idea.

--

Steve's front door is yellow.

Like. Sunshine yellow. Valley girl yellow.

Which Billy used to think was charming but now thinks is kind of annoying, when coupled with Steve's perpetually sunny disposition. And okay. Maybe it sort of pokes and prods at that piece of him that's always missing home.

Maybe it makes him a little bit sad, like. He'll never really feel at peace anywhere else.

But before Billy can dwell on it, or raise his fist to knock on the door, Steve's opening it and preparing to step through. He's using his foot to stop Mr. Bane from running out into the yard so he doesn't see Billy right away, which.

Also means he's going somewhere.

Which inherently means Billy's caught him at a bad time. Billy holds the paper bag closer to his chest and feels the words bubbling up before he can practice his breathing, or. Stop them. Because this is his third biggest fear after arguments and spiders.

"I've caught you at a bad time, I'm sorry, I'll just come back la--"

Steve breaks out into a grin so big. So bright, that it rivals anything Billy's ever seen before.

"Howdy, neighbor!" Steve says.

And Billy shifts nervously from one foot to the other, like. "Is this a bad time?"

"No, it's not a--"

"Because I can come back later." Billy nods, already turning on his heel to escape, and like. Fly into the sun. "Or not at all. I can just mail it to you, that's. Yeah, I'll just stick it in the post or something."

Steve grabs his elbow.

Billy looks at the hand on his elbow, and down at Steve’s feet. There aren’t any shoes or anything, so.

Billy's overreacting.

Fuck. He swallows, raising his eyes with caution to see Steve smiling again. Even wider than before, if that's possible.

Harrington licks his lips. "Whatcha got there?" He says, nodding to the bag, and Steve.

He's wearing glasses today.

Billy feels like someone hit him on the back of the head with a ski ball. Steve looks so soft, in white stripped overalls and a green sweater, that Billy doesn't know whether to fluff him like a pillow or fucking.

Punch him in the face.

Billy holds out the paper bag. "It's for you."

Steve looks at him strangely but he's still smiling, which.

Is good.

Billy thinks it's good but then he knows its good when Steve giggles. "I gathered that. What is it?"

"It's a, uh. You know." Billy tries. "You know one of those things? Where it's, like, a thing but you aren't supposed to know what it is?"

Steve blinks at him, cheeks turning pink like they always do. "A surprise?"

"That's the one." Billy snaps his fingers, like. Ah-ha. Except it isn't a surprise, it's just. "It's a way to say thanks. For the whole," Billy concludes, gesturing vaguely to their front lawns, to. "The driveway."

Steve blushes even harder. "You didn't have to get me a present--"

"It's not a present."

"That was just me trying to be nice." Steve leans against the door jam, eyes searching. "It doesn't call for a--"

"It's not a present." Billy says again. Steve doesn't look like he believes him, so Billy, like. Shoves the paper bag to his chest. "Look, open it now or don't. Fucking, throw it away for all I care, it's fine."

Billy turns on his heel because fuck this.

Fuck trying to pay back nice with nice and fuck Steve for starting this whole debacle to begin with. Billy makes it down one step and then Steve is laughing so hard he can't stand up straight.

Which just makes Billy feel worse, because.

"You're laughing." Billy gapes. "I bring you a present to say thanks for not being an asshole, and you're laughing."

Steve doesn't answer, he just.

Keeps on laughing, and okay.

This is Billy's third greatest fear. After abandonment and fighting. Fists covered in blood--his or someone else's, it doesn't matter. He frowns, turning to leave again when Steve straightens and coughs once into the palm of his hand.

"Thought it wasn't a present," Steve quips, and he's looking at Billy with, like. Sparkly eyes. He shrugs. "I'm not sure what it means."

Billy doesn't get it. "It doesn't have to mean anything--"

"No, like." Steve peers into the bag again, clearly holding back tears. "Why did you get me a bag of dead mice?"

"You can get them at the pet store." Billy says, because. You can, alright? He fiddles with the sleeves of his winter coat. "They're for Mr. Bane."

Steve just stares at him, eyes twinkling like two polished diamonds in his head.

And he's not saying anything, or. Laughing anymore, he's just. Watching Billy fall to pieces on his walkway as he tries to defend himself.

Billy focuses on the clouds that inch across the sky. "Mr. Bane, he's. He's always catching shit, like. Dead shit and leaving it on my porch. I just thought if he wants to eat dead things I can just. Buy him a pack or whatever. Like a normal person."

Steve grins. "You know they do that because they think you can't feed yourself."

Billy wrinkles his nose. "Well I fucking appreciate it, but I don't want to eat dead mice and birds and shit."

Steve chuckles once before staring again.

Like he's memorizing Billy's face, or like. They're having a competition that Billy doesn't know about.

Billy gestures to the bag again. "Would you just accept it, Steve? Please?"

Harrington looks down at the mice in his hands and nods slowly, like the decision is really requiring some thought.

Billy feels stupid.

This was so fucking stupid--

"Sure, Billy." Harrington says. Soft, and. Sweet. "No one's ever given me such a thoughtful gift before, so. Thank you."

And Billy feels like the tin man getting oil on his joints after a year of rusting in the forest, when Steve accepts his weird ass gesture. He nods, mouth lapsing into a thin, unamused line. "Okay, then. See ya 'round," Billy says.

And then he's turning, and.

Leaving.

Before Steve can say anything else.

The clouds inch like caterpillars across the bright winter sky and Steve's walkway seems so much longer on the journey home.

[subarublue]

Nice Guys Finish Last

One Shot

Fandom: Devil May Cry

Timeline: Not specified

Rating: Teen

Pairing: Dante x Female Reader

Word Count: 2027

Read on Ao3

Summary: After a hard week at work, a weekend at Dante’s is just what the doctor ordered, especially when a snow storm blows into town. Unfortunately for you, Dante is...well, Dante.

Notes: Just a cute little one shot. Slight bit of a dirty joke at the end.

You hurried down the street, your destination in sight. The bright neon sign of Devil May Cry should have been visible since the snow that was falling around you was light and gentle, but it wasn’t. In fact, the closer you got it seemed that no lights were on in the building. Was Dante even home? He’d said he would be when he stopped by your work earlier to see you, but for all you knew he could have gotten a call and gone out on a job. Though normally, he was pretty good at notifying you if that was the case when you were planning on spending the night.

Knowing the door would be unlocked regardless, and that you could just wait for him inside where it was nice and warm, you trudged through the snow as quickly as you could. You tried to pull your jacket tighter around you to ward off the frigid air, but to no avail. You’d not been prepared for the quick turn the weather had taken and your apparel, jacket included, was not up to par to deal with it in the slightest.

The weatherman had said it was going to be cold. Like dude, really? Cold did not cover this. It was freezing outside. Cows were giving ice cream instead of milk. People with heartburn everywhere were cured. Fucking snowmen were gaining sentience so they could migrate south.

You groaned in annoyance. This past week at your work had been hell; so much so that you didn’t even want to think about work for the rest of the weekend. Which is why you were currently planning on spending said weekend wrapped up in the warm arms of your boyfriend. But to top it all off, this sudden snow storm had decided to blow into town a little earlier than anticipated, leaving you to practically freeze to death on the long walk to his shop.

Gotta keep moving.

As you hurried on, you caught glimpses of the puffs of your breaths, clearly visible, reminding you of just how damn cold it was. You tried to forget about it by thinking of the warm things that awaited you just a block away; the heat of the shop itself, a cup of hot chocolate, the hot shower Dante would let you take, his warm bed, Dante himself...

You let out a frustrated whine when you realized it wasn’t working because your teeth were now chattering. God, you were so cold. Thankfully though, you’d finally reached the steps of the shop. You heaved a great sigh of relief and grabbed the door handle, anticipation of the warm temperature just on the other side making you giddy.

You threw the door open (probably a bit more enthusiastically than necessary, if you were honest) and stepped across the threshold of Dante’s beloved home into the comforting and welcoming feeling of...

MORE COLD!?

Immediately upon feeling the frigid temperature of the front office area, you tried to hug your coat around you even tighter. It’s colder in here than it is outside! That thought was probably not quite true, but your brain was too frozen to be concerned about little details like that.

A quick glance around the front office area would normally have shown you whether or not Dante was around, but it was well past dark outside and no lights were on so you could barely see anything, much less your boyfriend. You turned to flick the overhead light on...only to stare dumbly at the little switch when it did nothing. Your face quickly morphed into an expression of annoyance, the reason for the lack of heat in the building now obvious: Dante hadn’t paid his utility bill like he’d said he was going to.

You knew it had been overdue...again, but you really didn’t have the energy to be pedantic about the number of times it had happened previously. He’d already been getting final warning notices from the utility office stating to pay his bill by a certain date or else. He’d said he would be able to pay it after some job he was taking earlier in the week. Obviously, that had fallen through.

You tried to look on the bright side of things (the bright, warm side where you really wished you were right now). At least this meant that he likely wasn’t gone like you’d originally thought might be the case.

“D-D-Dante?” Your teeth were chattering so much you could barely speak as you stepped further into the office in search of the resident devil hunter.

His reply was immediate; a quick, “Just a sec!” from the kitchen in the back. You could still see your breath puffing out from your mouth (even though you were now inside) and you couldn’t help the despondent groan that let out the biggest puff of all, as if to mock you.

Dante chose that moment to appear in the doorway of his kitchen, holding something you couldn’t really see well with the lack of light. You could at least see him somewhat, and he suddenly looked like he was trying not to laugh at the sight you must have made, wrapped up in a coat not meant for snowy weather and shivering like a leaf. You simply glared at him as best you could, given your current state. You were in no mood to put up with his antics at the moment, especially since it seemed he was completely unaffected by the biting temperature. He was only in his usual getup of boots, pants, shirt, and his signature red jacket and yet he looked as if the temperature was a moderate seventy two degrees. Being half-devil certainly had its perks. This only served to worsen your mood, of course.

He’d barely managed to stifle his laughter before speaking up, “You alright there, babe? You look like you’re about to give me the...cold shoulder.” He was grinning as he said this. You of course, were not, as you resisted the urge to roll your eyes at him. Instead, you opted for yelling at him.

“Dante! What the hell!? You said you were gonna pay your bill!” The frozen feeling in your body was temporarily forgotten in your anger. You watched as a sheepish look crossed his face as he brought his free hand up to scratch the back of his neck.

“Yeah, well, about that...”

“What. About. It.” you spoke through clenched teeth. Partly because of your anger, but also because you were having to clench them together in order to keep the chattering at bay because unfortunately, your anger wasn’t enough to keep you numb to the cold for long. The feeling was already back, full force.

“Remember that job I told you about?” When you nodded stiffly he continued, “Well, the client didn’t end up being able to pay me, so...yeah.” At least now he had the decency to look a bit guilty at your discomfort.

You eyed him suspiciously. You knew he was notorious for not charging for his services at all if clients had trouble paying him. You figured that was most likely the case in this instance as well and you decided to call him on it.

“Couldn’t pay? Or you didn’t make them?” You gave him a look that conveyed you were not in the mood for any bullshit. You were a little surprised though, when he gave a rather dejected sigh, suddenly turning serious.

“I wasn’t gonna charge a single mom trying to raise three kids on her own ‘cause their dad’s a deadbeat,” he said simply.

You felt frozen solid by this point, but that melted your heart a little bit. Okay, well maybe a lot. Dante really was an all-around nice guy. You knew he had a soft spot especially for mothers in situations like that, considering what had happened to his own mother when he was young. Now you could no longer find it in you to be mad at him for his utility problem.

Instead, you gave a wry laugh and shook your head at him. “You’re way too nice, Dante.” He simply shrugged at that, but you were smiling now, despite the constant shivering.

“What can I say? I’m just a nice guy.” He was approaching you, holding his hand out, and you finally took notice of what he held in it. It was one of the mugs from his kitchen (your favorite one to be exact) and there was some steam wafting from the contents inside. You immediately perked up as he offered it to you.

It turned out to be that cup of hot chocolate you’d been thinking about on your way over. You decided not to wonder about how he’d made it without electricity as you took the mug gratefully. The heat from the sweet liquid warmed your hands through the ceramic as you held it.

“Luckily, that’s one of the reasons I love you.” You took a sip, sighing as you felt the hot liquid flowing through you, starting to warm you up. Then, you gave him a coy smile. “But that’s not enough to make me stay in this freezer you call a shop tonight.”

“Aww, come on, babe! It’s not that bad! Besides, I’m here to warm you up.” He was giving you that sly grin of his, and you had to resist the urge to roll your eyes again. That wasn’t about to change your mind, regardless of how tempting it was.

“You can still warm me up. It’ll just have to be back at my place, where there’s heat...and working lights...and a working stove, and-“

“Alright, alright! I get it!” He held up his hands in mock surrender. Now it was your turn to grin slyly at him, having won. “You’re place is cleaner, anyway,” he added, as if it was something that mattered to him. Which you knew it didn’t.

“Well come on, then. If we stand around here any longer, you’ll have an ice statue to decorate your office with instead of a girlfriend,” you joked as you turned to head back out the door. You grimaced a little at the thought of the long, cold walk back to your place. At least you had a hot drink for the trip.

“You know, that wouldn’t be bad,” you gave him an incredulous look at that and for the third time, almost rolled your eyes at him. But Dante hadn’t missed the grimace on your face before he’d made his teasing comment. You suddenly found yourself enveloped in another layer of warmth as his jacket (which you almost never saw him without) came around your shoulders. “But I think I much prefer having a girlfriend that lets me eat pizza whenever I want without lecturing me on how unhealthy it is.” He was smiling warmly at you and it was almost enough to chase all the cold away.

“Guess I’m the lucky one, then. You know, since you’re so nice,” you said it playfully, but you meant every word as you gestured to his coat that he’d lent you. It dwarfed you a bit, since he was so much taller than you, and you had to gather it up a bit in your free hand to make sure it didn’t drag as you started the trek to your place.

“That you are, sweetheart.”

You swore his ego would be the death of you. Thinking to bring him down a couple notches, you goaded him a bit, “You know what they say, right? Nice guys finish last.” You grinned cheekily at him.

He turned to face you as you walked along. It was still snowing, and you wondered briefly if you could convince him to trigger and fly you all the way home so you wouldn’t have to walk in the cold anymore. The smirk on his face had you momentarily distracted, though.

“Babe, nice guys only finish last-” he was shooting finger guns at you now, “-because we make sure our women finish first.” He punctuated his statement with wink.

You did roll your eyes at that.

[recurring-polynya]

What are your thoughts on Bazz-B? He and Renji seemed to have developed a good rapport and I feel that they would’ve been good frenemies had be survived. I can imagine them exchanging fashion tips which would have interesting results!

I imagine that in another universe, they could have been friends, but I feel like the fact that Bazz grievously injured/ambiguously killed one of Renji’s best friends would put a big damper on that.

I really, really, really do not like the Sternritters. I don’t even like them as villains. Out of them, Bazz is probably the least objectionable, but I still don’t like him.

Here are a few thoughts on why, but I’m gonna put them under a cut, because that’s my policy when I say critical things about characters. If you like the Sternritters, I’m glad for you and please feel free to skip the rest of this post!

One of the major themes of Bleach has always been about moral ambiguity, that people are rarely pure heroes or villains. In the earliest episodes, Rukia warns Ichigo to kill Hollows from behind, to never try to glimpse the person they once were, advice that Ichigo roundly rejects as he’s constant turns enemies into friends/allies. This works really well at the beginning of the series and... less well each time we got through this.

My understanding is that Kubo’s original plan for Bleach ended after the Soul Society Arc, and that makes sense to me, because it seems so well plotted out to me, and then the subsequent arcs just seems to try to be recapturing the magic. The thing that is coolest to me about this arc is that the shinigami characters have real depth, and that our initial impressions of them are insufficient. The Gotei is going through an existential crisis, where an injustice (Rukia’s execution) is being prosecuted, and in addition, Aizen has laid a groundwork of mistrust and misinformation. You have characters like Renji, Kira, and Hinamori, who are torn between their orders and deep personal feelings. You have bystanders like Hisagi and Komamura, who don’t really have skin in the game, but feel a sense of unease about the way things are going. You have characters who seem sympathetic-- when Aizen comforts Hinamori that Renji won’t be fired, and the fact that Tousen seems to be someone who would be on the side of justice if only he had the full story, that turn out to be disingenuous. Then you have characters like Kenpachi, who, at least in the second half of the arc, is on Ichigo’s side, but not really for any noble reason, just because he likes Ichigo and also he wants an excuse to fight other captains. There’s Kurotsuchi, who is nominally on the side of the good guys, but is not, in fact, a good person. By the end of the arc, I feel like Kubo has done a really good job of presenting a diverse group of people who live in a flawed system and who were played by someone who took advantage of that. I have no objection at all to the idea that Ichigo considers many of the shinigami his friends afterward, including a very strong friendship with Renji, who is presented as a villain initially.

The Arrancar arc, is more of a mixed bag for me. I still think it mostly works. Arrancar are not humans. They follow Aizen, but in some ways, they are also his victims-- post-Arc, I don’t find myself begrudging any of the surviving Espada for having gone along with him. They are Hollows, and they come from a life of violence and anger and brutality. They have risen above that, which means different things to the various Espada. Harribel, Starkk and Nel are all sympathetic, even tragic characters. Nnoitra and Szyalapollo are monstrous, but in the way that terrible humans are monstrous. Grimmjow is an interesting character, because he falls somewhere in the middle.

I read a fair amount of GrimmIchi fic, because a) it often features Renruki as a side ship and b) there are a lot of really, really talented GrimmIchi writers, but I do not love the ship for it’s own sake, and it’s mainly for one reason: Grimmjow purposely hurt Ichigo’s friends in front of him, and I do not think that’s a thing Ichigo would take lightly. Now, one of the things that make GrimmIchi writers so good is that they are often willing to do the heavy lifting of examining Grimmjow’s brutality, and way Ichigo views the Hollow within himself (for some people, this is even one of the attractions of the pairing). We get a lot of canon scenes with Grimmjow in various situations-- when he backtalks Aizen, when he “rescues” Orihime from Loly and Menoly, when he tries to get her to heal Ichigo just so he can fight him again, when we see him willing to fight his fellow Espada. He’s a meaty character and there’s a lot to dig into. I would still, someday, like to see Ichigo say, “Hey Grimmjow, y’know, you badly hurt my friend Rukia and it messed me up a bunch and I am having trouble getting over it,” and for Grimmjow to have to deal with that. (Polynya, you say, didn’t Rukia kill one of Grimmjow’s Fraccion like 5 minutes earlier? Yes, she did, and whether Grimmjow would respond with “yeah, well, Rukia killed my friend and it hurt my feelings too!” vs. “yeah, well, Rukia killed my friend and you don’t see me crying about it!” are both really interesting ways you could take this)

ANYWAY, getting back to the Quincy. From our earliest introduction to Uryuu in the series, we know that Quincy ought to have a legitimate beef with Soul Society. For starters, there is their underlying philosophical difference: Quincy don’t think that the shinigami do enough to protect the Living World, and they have taken matters into their own hands. They want to see Hollows annihilated, rather than purified. Then, on top of that, the shinigami eradicated their people, and treated them like lab rats. You could spin a lot of gold out of this, but instead, we got the Thousand Year Blood War Arc.

The Quincy are, basically humans with powers, and yet they are extremely bloodthirsty and cruel. We see Bambietta killing people to blow off steam, they take glee in killing lesser opponents (both Hollow and shinigami), As Nodt tortures Byakuya rather than just killing him cleanly, Giselle takes over Bambietta’s body in a horrifying way. Yhwach chastises Yamamoto for having “gone soft”, and says “you used to be cooler when you were a murderer.” The Vandenreich isn’t about justice or improving the system, it’s just about revenge and power and proving racial superiority. Are y’all ready for the hottest take I have ever had? Here it is: The Bount Arc, which is bad and should feel bad, provided a more well-characterized and relatable set of villains than the Thousand Year Blood War Arc.

I mentioned earlier that out of all the Sternritter, Bazz is the best of a bad lot. He gets some good flashbacks and his story evokes both Renji and Rukia’s childhood relationship as well as Gin and Rangiku’s. He's shown hating Yhwach in his youth, but then it’s never really followed up on. Nothing about this works to make me like Bazz, though, it just makes me feel like Yhwach is terrible, a person who ruins lives in both big and small ways.

I honestly hate the scenes where Bazz and Renji banter. Up until this point of the story arc, we have been slammed over and over with how much worse the Quincy are than previous villains. They cause massive destruction, they maim and kill beloved characters. Then, halfway through the arc, Kubo suddenly tries to start walking this back. Byakuya and Kenpachi were supposed to never fight again, but, uhhhh, Byakuya got healed in the Royal Realm and Kenpachi... got better? Look, we fixed Kira! Mayuri brings everyone back as zombies, that’s cool? Let’s have some banter, ha ha, the Quincy are fun! I don’t want to blame Kubo on this because he wasn’t feeling well and also, all of this smacks of editorial pressure, but it doesn’t sit well with me. It seems out of character to me for Renji to joke with someone who has hurt his friends and destroyed his home, and I sometimes justify it in my mind by saying that Renji probably doesn’t know that Bazz was the one who hurt Kira, but in some ways that makes things worse.

To be honest, a much better way to humanize the Quincy would have been to do so through Uryuu. One of the huge flaws of this arc is that there is so little focus on him, the character who ought to tie all this together. Uryuu has been harping for years that shinigami are his enemy and that he’s proud of his heritage. This is literally exactly what he has always says he wanted, and the fact that I, the reader, never believed for a microsecond that his loyalties were divided speaks to how awful the Quincy must be. How did Yhwach first approach Uryuu? It would have been cool to be introduced to the Vandenreich via the narrative device of Uryuu’s introduction. Was anyone nice to him? Do the Quincy have any redeeming value? What if there had been a scene where Bazz-B is goofing around, maybe training with someone, and Uryuu says to himself, “He reminds me of Renji and I hate all of the feelings that are currently in my body”? That would make a cool fanfic, actually, and anyone who wants can have that idea because I will never, ever write fanfic about the Sternritter.

Finally, on a note about fashion, the Sternritter uniforms (along with all their other symbolism) skirts way too close to “Nazi” for my tastes, and one more thing I hate about them is that they have retroactively ruined Uryuu’s aesthetic for me.

[murdersexual]

So... When are you going to post that LeoPika fic? 👀👀👀

Mane bet... 😏 But I might delete it later! Here’s part one!

🚨WARNING!🚨

Rated MA for Mature Audiences only. NSFW.

Sex, Drugs, Alcohol, Gambling, Gun Violence.

NOT COMPLETELY PROOFREAD.

May have a few out of character instances for I wrote this around 3am, so please excuse that.

✨Ship/Pairing✨:

LeoPika (Leorio x Kurapika)

March 3rd, XXXX, En route to World Resorts Casino, around 9:47pm:

The weather in Yorknew hadn’t exactly started to reflect that it’s close to Springtime yet. It’s still cold and snowy but that wasn’t going to stop the event that’s being hosted by some of the biggest names in Underground Crime.

We’re talking about a night full of sex, drugs, alcohol, gambling and music.

It’s also the night of Leorio’s 21st birthday and he’s in town, steaming hot for he’s yet to receive a ‘happy birthday’ call from a certain Mafia Leader with the most gorgeous of light blonde hair. However, that’s not all... In general, Leorio is ultimately tired of trying so hard to be the glue to what’s considered an already unfixable relationship. The point of his visit this time is to give Kurapika a piece of damn mind for what may be the final time.

What a way to spend his birthday, right?

The hot blooded koi fish found himself strolling down the cold streets of Yorknew by his lonesome. His enticing hazel gaze is relative to the weather... Cold and piercing. He wore the meanest of faces with his lips decorated in a sheer pout. Then his face and ears are red from the whipping of the snow and frosty winds. The thoughts that went around his sophisticated skull only ruses him further. With each step he took, the snow crunched beneath his expensive waterproof combat boots. The sound gave him a slight sense of calm—one that managed to steal attention momentarily.

“I forgot the last time I’ve even enjoyed the Winter...”

The words came rolling off his tongue. His eyes slightly softened as he now comes to a brief halt, a soft sigh exhales from the tall doctor-to-be. He finds the dark sky that slowly drops the small white flakes. Being the jovial spirit he knows he could be, he sticks his tongue out and catches a few of them. His handsome features are now graced with a soft smile only to see the lights of his destination illuminate the skyline. With a low growl, he’s reminded of his current goal.

“Bet even YOU won’t see me coming...”

His icy glare returns and the tone of his voice has lost all signs of benevolence. His words came out way darker than they should’ve.

But can you blame him though?

Continuing his traverse through the snowy lands of the busy city, he adjusts his earmuffs while now stuffing his gloved hands back into his long black winter coat. The brunette’s hair is messy and filled with snowflakes, such a look makes him appear rather gentle despite his mood. His trademark circular shades are gently shaded from the current weather but that doesn’t stop him from seeing now does it?

‘When I get there, I promise this time I’m gonna knock his fucking lights out.’

The thought got his adrenaline flowing. Now he yearns to cause physical damage. The question is... will it actually happen? This IS Kurapika here. He’s not gonna sit there and take that shit, UNLESS... he ACTUALLY accepts such a punishment.

Leorio knows how aggressive he can be but he is more angry than sad. He won’t ever come to say it...

But the idea of not being called on his birthday genuinely hurt him.

It felt like a slap in the face, especially for everything he’s done. He’d never miss any birthdays or special occasions and it’s to the point where he feels like it’s only him who thinks that way.

‘I give too fucking much to not get much—better yet, NOTHING in return!’

Being a person with a heart the size of the world this is the curse: to always be dealt a hand that’s never going to win. Knowing him? He wants to break that curse and by default there’s no better way to do it than to throw hands. His actions always spoke louder anyways.

Crossing a few streets and nearly fighting one of the people who almost hit him, he finally makes it to his destination—World Resorts Casino. Entering through the slide open glass doors, the bright slots, signs that point to everything and even the neon-like decor nearly blinded him. The smell of expensive imported cigars, cigarettes, various alcohol and a multitude of different colognes and perfumes filled the air. His nose burned from the mixture of scents all around. A low grunt emits as he now removes his gloves and earmuffs. Stuffing both in his pocket, he proceeds to walk ahead while undoing his silver buckle, his finely seamed gold buttons and his golden zipper. It revealed the finest of outfits!

He’s wearing a sleek black slim fit blazer that fits rather nicely around his muscular arms, a jet black satin button up that’s halfway unbuttoned at the top and neatly tucked in his matching sleek slacks that’s accented with a gold buckle Gucci belt. Tapping his feet to rid of the snow from the bottom, he walks on ahead only to meet one of the Casino Bunnies.

“Welcome to the World Resorts Casino, my fine gentleman! If you’re looking for the event labelled ‘How To Play Russian Roulette With a Criminal Mastermind’, it’s from the second floor on up! Here’s a complimentary welcome drink! May you enjoy your time here~!”

Giving a quick bow, the busty beauty now switches away, her semi-exposed cheeks had a little bit of a wiggle to them much like her makeshift bunny tail. With a smirk as he watches her, he stirs his drink and takes a sip, now charmed by how well it’s mixed.

“Not bad!”

Heading to the stairs that’s decorated in the cutest of roulette wheel numbers, he heads up, his ears are open and listening to the music that’s being played. He hums while trying to figure out what floor Kurapika may be on...

Speaking of him?

Kurapika’s right hand reaches for the roulette wheel, the midnight blue and black ombré nail polish that was still on his hands matched with the blue and purple ambience that is on the 8th floor. In his left, he held a half empty shot glass, now proceeding to spin the wheel. His right leg is crossed over his left, his foot gently swung to the beat, a soft smirk now decorating his face for he’s caught up hosting the Roulette Table.

“What’s your bets?”

He asked the two players, a woman in a black short evening dress that seemed one size too small, her breasts looked as if they were about to pop out of it and her bodacious hips, butt and thighs made the dress rise to the point her black g-string nearly showed. But it’s a good thing she has her legs crossed right?

“I’ll take all even on red, my kind sire~”

Her voice cooed, almost in a flirtatious tone towards him. To be honest, she’s been debating on attempting to charm him since his grand appearance earlier in the night. He knew that just from her gestures and body language alone. Those light grey orbs swished over to the woman beside her, she held herself up, a cigarette now being doused out in an ashtray, she wears a smile on her ruby red lips as she now casually blows smoke into the air.

“Mmm, can luck be a lady tonight~? I think I’ll take all even on black, hun~”

Sipping the little bit of cognac that’s left in his shot glass, he sets it down and looks to the wheel while mentally trying to calculate who’s going to win this round.

“How much?”

The busty lady was quick to answer...

“I’ll put 100 genie on my red~”

The ruby red lipstick lady smirked at her.

“Hmph, I’m a bit of a daredevil, so I’ll do 700 on my black~”

With that being said, he spins the wheel and actually narrows his choice down to who’s going to win.

‘Ruby, otherwise she wouldn’t have bet so much. She’s confident that all black on even will be victorious. And she’s not wrong... Tara’s bet was a safe one so there’s a lack of confidence in her choice. I know I’m the reason why she’s picked red... I have my earring to blame.’

“And the winner is...”

His eyes carefully watched the wheel as it began to slow up. The tiny little ball clicked and clanged until it fell onto...

Black, 26.

“Ruby.”

‘Just as I thought.’

Indeed, he knew it and with a gasp of disbelief, Tara pouts before reaching in between her breasts and pulling out a total of 800 genie. She hands it over to Ruby who takes it and waves it like a fan over her.

“Mmm, I can smell that vanilla perfume with a hint of boob sweat~ You were nervous weren’t you, doll face~?”

Tara gives an eye roll and crosses her arms over her chest.

“Hmph! What’s it to ya? Ya won already!”

She squeaks angrily. Getting up from her chair, Ruby wanders over and stands behind her before leaning down and wrapping her arms around her, she plants a kiss on her cheek before using her alcohol tinged tongue to sensually lick the shell of her ear before nipping at it and tugging on it. She purrs playfully.

“Better behave yourself, kitten~”

A soft squeak emits from Tara who huffs softly. She hates how she plays at one of her many weaknesses.

“Oh fine! But you’re on the couch tonight!”

“As long as my face is between your legs, I’m fine with that.”

The exchange between the two didn’t really surprise the blonde. As a Mafia Leader, he’s come to accept the shit he’s gonna see on a pretty regular basis. Taking his ice cubes and holding them into his cheeks he sets up for the next spin only to receive a call.

“Ugh...”

He knew whose voice it was off the back. He blinks his eyes closed as he slides the answer icon to the right and places it to his ear.

“What...?”

On the other line, that soft voice of Melody’s muttered...

“You have a visitor on his way to you... He seems very pissed...”

But who exactly is SHE referring to?

‘Oh don’t tell me...’

“Who…?”

He was enticed to ask anyways.

“I think it’s Leorio! I-I’m not sure, the only heartbeat I recognise that’s this fast and full of anger is yours though... It doesn’t seem like him at all...”

His eyes found the sky as he worded ‘my dear family, I do apologise, but fuck me gently with a fucking chainsaw, please, speed on low and blades on extra sharp.’ He made Tara and Ruby giggle for they read his lips perfectly. With a gentle sigh, he asks...

“Okay... so is it him or not…? I’m in the middle of hosting the roulette table...”

Her answer would’ve been immediate for she could hear the irritation starting to ruse. But before she could answer, she was spotted by the angry Leorio. His eyes glinted as he knew she was snitching.

“U-Uh!”

“MELODY!! TELL THAT FUCKER I SAID... BE READY TO FUCKING FIGHT!!”

Now leaning to his left hand to pinch his nose bridge a dreaded sigh left Kurapika.

“...Great.”

👀👀👀

I see that you’ve made it this far... This is ONLY part one. I currently have three full parts. So if you’d like to see the rest? Let me know! (EWW I CANNOT WRITE WTF! 🥲) I do apologise if this is all over the place but I knew that I’d get asked to post this some time around!

[rubidusmagnet]

Dirty Things Kept Secret 18+ KidLaw-> LawKid  (1/2) ch

Just Bi guys being Bi, nothing to see here unless you want too.... anyways, this idea stems from the recent thread with @ikkaku-of-heart (It’s Thanks to you this came out) So If you read through that, you’ll get to see what Kid does to Law’s tats among other things in as great a detail I could manage. Naughty stuff under the cut If it actually works this time around.

"The fuck is this crap?" Eustass Kid spit his mouthful of booze all over the bar counter he sat at, angrily swinging the mug in the air to indicate openly to the bartender his unsatisfaction of the quality or rather lack of, their alcohol flavoring. Clearly scared by the Redheads rant, the scared witless young man hurried over with a rag to clean the mess up before skittering back to other customers who gave Kid a wide berth in stool room. 'Screw them for pissing their pants over me, If they can't even handle the likes of me, they'll never hope to handle worse customers.' As if the gods above heard his angry mutterings of cowardly patrons, a certain smooth baritone reached his ears from near the entrance of the tavern. "Oi Eustass-ya I see your ugly mug still repels everyone around you."

lifting his gaze so that he can meet Trafalgars golden one, Kid grinned, "Its's bout time your ass showed up, I almost thought you dropped dead or something." merely amused at the jab to his tardiness, law explained "It couldn't bet helped, It was hard enough being able to get away from my crew so that we could rendezvous here."

It really couldn't, just recently because both crews have been meeting each other frequently on islands leading up to the end of paradise, both captains had declared the beginning of their secret trysts in order to let off any steam or frustration they might have from being on the seas for a while. They had agreed that the details of these meetings would not be revealed even though Kid at least wanted to be able to brag about how he banged the Heart Pirates captain it was considered a moot point and so he reluctantly dropped the topic in favor of maintaining a sexually beneficial relationship.

Both scarlet and gold eyes flashed in knowing of the fun that was about to begin. "So shall we take this 'discussion' elsewhere Eustass-ya?"

"Took the words right out of my mouth, but you're still as mannerless as always bastard."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Both men hardly entered the rented hotel room before Kid swiftly turned to harshly shove Laws back up against the door, being sure to use his other hand to lock the door behind him so that they wouldn't potentially have any interruptions. And just as harsh as the shove, Kid ducked down to crash their lips together aggressively. dark lipstick meshing with smooth tan lips and a rough rub of a scratchy goatee. Both tongues met in the middle in a battle for dominance, Kid knew he had the better physical strength so he continued to tease Trafalgar with the idea of winning by allowing his tongue to slip somewhat into his own mouth before turning the tide and shoving his back into the others mouth.

Reluctantly pulling away from the other, Kid moved further into the room, paying very little attention to the bland furniture the room had to offer when some of it was likely to get broken anyway. 'That poor bed won't know what hit it.' He was abruptly interrupted in his thoughts by hands grabbing him around the waist to spin him around and abruptly push him onto his back on the bed.

Looking up in barely hidden surprise, He saw a rather annoyingly smug Law standing at the foot of the bed with his yellow and black hoodie and tank top already stripped off to reveal a plethora of tribal patterned tattoos. And even though they've done this old song and dance a few times already, he still couldn't help but admire the ink over tanned skin, paving a picture over a skin canvas.

As always, Law had a snarky remark in response, "Keep staring at me like that Eustass-ya and I might think you have feelings for me." Sneering in disbelief, Kid jeered back exactly how he thought about such a blasphemous accusation. "In your dreams Trafalgar, all this talk makes me think the same of you, you know the only thing ya got going for ya is that tight ass of yours."

"Yeah Yeah, if you're done talking, I think there is much better uses for that loud mouth of yours." Getting, back up off the bed, Kid reversed the situation by promptly tossing Law onto the bed with an 'oomph!' "Like hell I'm gonna do anything from down there while you get to stand, I know what your game is, you were hoping I suck ya off or even let ya fuck my throat you bastard! just because I have an oral fixation doesn't mean you get to abuse it!"

Turning so that Kid could move to crawl onto the bed over Law he stated with a salacious sneer. "If I'm gonna do that, your gonna just have to take it my way." Having figured out by now that the controlling little shit would protest to that, He made damn sure to use one of his arms to keep him pinned. It was also a way for Kid to show off his superior strength to the other, since these little 'meetings' always held a power struggle.

Both men held large egos that came to blows whenever they met, leading either to a fight where both exasperated crews had to separate them to avoid too much injury. Or in the satisfaction of a good fuck when both gave their all in a different form of battle.

Law responded with a huff after finally forfeiting the struggle for now at least. "You've always been such a brute Eustass-ya and you fuck like one too." Kid gave his rival one last wild leer before turning his attention to the tanned skin of the others chest. "And yet you love it dont'cha? being fucked by this wild beast." Whatever smart-assed comment the surgeon of death was about to make was caught in his throat in a surprised cry when Eustass dragged his attentive mouth over a dusky nipple to give it a sharp nip, leaving the bud to instantly harden at the attention laved on it.

As long as Kid would prefer it, he hopes to keep that smart mouth of his either shut or too busy spouting pleasured sounds to do anything, but he can't have his way can he? As he he gave the other nipple the same attention, he felt a hand palm the back of his head, threading fingers through the flaming locks before abruptly tightening their hold to give a sharp tug on them. The reaction was almost instant as the sensation travelled down Kid's spine, leaving goosebumps in it's wake.

"Fuck off Trafalgar, you know how sensitive my scalp is!" not that he was really gonna complain because after all, such a sensation was actually extremely pleasurable to him but like hell he would ever admit it out loud to one of his fellow rivals and super rookie. The only response he got was a unapologetic smirk from a certain surgeon, an all too knowing glint reflecting off of those golden irises.

To get back at him, Kid left a bite hard enough to draw some blood and to leave a nice mark over the stupidly grinning jolly roger in the middle of the large heart tattoo. an almost unbecoming yelp tore out of the others mouth, leaving a victorious grin to decorate Kid's face. "What the hell! are you some kind of fucking vampire or what?" after recovering from the pain the smug bastard had to add. "Well now that I think of it you do pull off the image quite well considering how pale you are."

Unfortunately for Kid, he walked right into that one by also laving at the spot, cleaning up the blood he spilled. He wasn't someone who enjoyed the taste of blood especially from himself, he just didn't want blood to get on the bed sheets because then questions would really be raised by the hotel staff. "Just shut up and let me do my thing, unless you want me to bite your dick off when I get to it?" hearing no response from the other, Kid continued on his path all the way down to the surgeons navel, where a short thin trail of dark hairs lead down to the intended prize currently pushing an impressive tent in spotted jeans.

Undoing the others belt buckle and absentmindedly unzipping the fly, Kid spent a brief time nosing the others smooth tan skin, feeling little twitches from the muscles beneath at the stimulation. Finally exposing the dark briefs the other was wearing, Kid roughly palmed it in his left hand while moving to tug those pesky jeans off with his right. The smart ass finally moved to help by lifting his hips to help it along while also groaning at the friction increase he got from doing so.

Once it got down to his knees, kid swiftly and roughly yanked the pants off the other to a cry of "Hey!' before moving in for the kill. He lowered himself down, using both arms to spread Law's legs apart for better access he ducked down to nuzzle the straining bulge at the impatient mutterings of man ahead of him. Just as he felt another hand move to grab his head and press his face down, Kid swatted the offending appendage away in annoyance. "Keep ya paws off until I get to the goods damnit!"

With that said, Kid finally made to roughly remove Law's briefs in a manner which garnered yet another fit of whining from the other. "Watch how you handle that you damned brute! you almost tore them!" "Oh those aren't what you should be worried about me tearing Trafalgar." Instead of emphasizing what he meant to the other mans inquiry. He instead chose to begin what he was planning to do, which was making this smug bastard come apart from his mouth alone, with little help from his hands.

He gave teasing little kitten licks to the head of Law's cock, lapping up the little excess of precum that was leaking out of the tip. Having enough with teasing since he wasn't as nearly as much of a bastard as Law in that department, Kid took the whole head in his mouth giving a generously hard suck which only resulted in said bastard getting grabby again and tugging harshly on crimson locks, which without even asking, pulled the elastic of his goggles off to toss god knows where in order to push untamed bangs back in a fistful.

In response, Kid snarled around the mouthful of cock, threatening with a graze of sharp canines before pulling away to give a sharp response. "You watch where you throw those you bastard! They are-" "Yes I know already Eustass-ya, they're some sort of family treasure to you but by now you should know how little I care about that with you, now if you don't mind why don't you get back to sucking me off like a good boy hm?

Growling animalistically at the others half-lidded arrogant face, but unwilling to just drop the sexual tension they had going. Kid went back to where he was but not before declaring darkly to the other male. "If I see so much as a CRACKin those lenses I'll make you pay asshat." "Yeah yeah you say that now but- Oh fuck~."

Whatever comment Law was about to make was abruptly cut off as Kid dove to immediately take half of his length in one go, which was no easy feat considering the size, but Kid always considered himself quite orally talented which was exactly why the other chose to take advantage of such skills for his own use whenever possible.

Considering how his anger from the treatment of his goggles had yet to abate, Kid briefly considered reaching up with one hand to grasp Trafalgar's balls before crushing them to bits in a fist. He immediately crossed such a suicidal idea from his mind because as much as he would enjoy the look of sheer agony from having his most precious jewels crushed, he knew all he had to do was reach for his Nodachi leant against the night stand and decapitate him, most likely without the use of his powers.

Instead, since such a thought was so vivid, Kid did in fact reach with his right arm to cup the others balls, but gently, and with a little fondling mixed in with his fingers.  Hearing another pleased sigh escape the others lips at the action, Kid briefly looked up to only see Law's goatee covered chin with his head thrown back against the arm he was now laying his head on. taking the chance, he nervously eyed the Nodachi that ruined his brief brutal desire with a comical drop of sweat dripping down his forehead.

Refocusing himself on the task at hand. Kid slowly continued his downwards ascent until finally, his nose reached the patch of dark pubic curls at the base of Law's shaft. Having recovered from the earlier surprise deep throat, Law kept a tattooed hand atop red locks, putting a little pressure in order to ensure the other kept his head in place like that. He purred at the lewd picture Kid made, fiery eyes looking up at him in defiance despite having a throbbing cock lodged as deeply as it could go down his throat. "Who would've though the mighty Eustass 'Captain' Kid to be such a cockslut?"

To put emphasis on the meaning, Law allowed Kid to raise his head slightly before abruptly thrusting upwards, causing the man to choke suddenly, which Law enjoyed the sudden tightening around his cock very much. Pressing against a non-too resisting hand in order to take deep gulps of air, Kid looked absolutely wrecked already with the saliva mixed in precum dripping from his smeared lips and chin. "That was a dirty move shithead." The surgeon gave a calm lazy response in contradiction to Kids panting. "A dirty move which you should be used to by now Eustass-ya unless you mean to tell me you can't handle it?"

With the clear challenge given, Kid's pride would not allow the other the smug satisfaction in assuming things of him, and any challenge given was to be completed ten fold!

With new determination alighting his expression, Kid dove back down to suck with fervor, occasionally bobbing his head deeply to briefly touch the base before starting the whole process again, limiting his hands to either hold down tanned hips more firmly or to fondle and caress the balls beneath. Law himself was beginning to feel the effects of such efforts it seemed as Kid could feel the other's cock begin to twitch more frequently to hit the roof of his mouth.

It didn't stop however, the flow of filthy words the cocky surgeon threw down at him. "Now that I think of it, hah~ you look much better like this Eustass-ya with a dick shoved down your tight throat, I wonder what would everyone think of you if they knew this side of you, they most certainly would lose their fear for you I'm certain of it."

As much as it angered Kid's dominant side to be demeaned verbally like this, it did absolutely everything to bring an inferno into his painfully tight pants by this point. Absentmindedly, Kid moved a hand not assisting him in pleasuring the other down to unzip his fly in order to yank his own hardon out to stroke away some of the unbearable tension pooling there as Law continued on." I know I prefer you like this, significantly less yapping then before. Maybe I should do this to shut you up whenever you get on my nerves, I won't have to hear any of your ridiculous drivel and I get to release sexual tension all at once."

As Law grew closer to the end, Kid moved both hands to hold the other down, preventing anymore hip movement as he had learned from before. However doing so meant Law had all the control over his head from above which the little shit took advantage of quickly. Placing both palms on either side of Kids face, Law made to slam him down all the way onto his cock as it throbbed wildly now. "Swallow every last drop Eustass-ya."

As this was said, Kid could do nothing but take the load that was being shot down the back of his throat, tempted as he was to keep some of the seed pooling in his mouth in order to spit it back at the bastards face, He knew better than to do something that would likely start a fight when he too needed to take care of his own needs. So once the jets of white fluid finally slowed to a twitching stop, Kid made to pull away as soon as possible in order to swallow down the surprisingly large amount of seed left over. 'So it seems he must be really pent up too then'.

Unfortunately for him, Law wouldn't allow him a moment to get the salty taste out of his mouth completely, taking advantage of the daze he was in in order to roughly pull him up to smash their lips together and gaining dominance for the first time tonight by being able to explore Kids mouth without being pushed out, taking in the taste of his own salty liquid clinging to teeth. Pulling away He had the gall to smirk at Kid. "Should I take this daze to mean I get to top this time around."

Making a recovery in order to spat back "Like hell you will after the stunt you pulled I'll have to punish you for that." Kid roughly manhandled Law's body but not before catching a glimpse of a certain slightly lipstick smeared appendage. "Have fun cleaning that up jerk." A little confused at what he meant, Law looked down there before giving the other a vicious glare.

Which for all intents and purposes of intimidating lesser foes, did absolutely nothing in deterring Kid from fully maneuvering the other onto his hands and knees.

"Now why don't you be a good boy and keep your ass up in the air for me eh?" Kid guffawed when he saw the other look over his shoulder to glare at him once more, this time accompanied by the old middle finger salute. Pulling back to sit on his knees, Kid finally got to undressing himself fully, removing his coat to toss it aside along with his vest and weapons belts too. He took a second to retrieve the necessary lube and condom from a pants pocket before quickly discarding that and his boxers as well.

Moving to kneel behind the other, Kid opened up the cap before pouring a generous amount of lube onto his fingers. using his left hand, he settled over the massive jolly roger adorning his rivals back to balance him self.

Without any verbal warning, Kid roughly shoved a thick finger into the others hole on the first go at it. Hearing a sharp hiss in response to the intrusion, Kid could only smirk as it was his way of getting back at the other for treating him like some disposable street whore earlier. From what he could see, Law had his head bent low, with both hands clenching the sheets like a lifeline, significantly wrinkling the fabric in the process.

And because Kid is not known to be a very kind person especially to certain rivals that get under his skin a lot, Kid shoved yet another slicked finger in after only thrusting the singular digit a few times, deeming the twitching orifice more than ready for another.

Gradually, Kid was rewarded with muffled groans which Kid tsked at, annoyed that Law was trying to hold back on him. To fix this, He used the hand laying over his back to grab a fistful of dark blue locks and yank his head up off the pillow. "It's no good if I can't hear you ya know? someone like you shouldn't be afraid to get a little noisy."

Hackles raised by the taunt, The lanky surgeon immediately hissed back in a dark tone. "Well maybe you should consider the fact that you aren't doing enough to please me Eustass-ya." and yet another challenge was posed by the other, 'I bet the bastards doing this on purpose to maximize his pleasure but damnit all if it isn't working!'

Keeping the internal struggle to himself, but not hiding the dark fiery look taking over his eyes. Kid's physical response was to hammer home three fingers, his typical maximum for partners considering the thickness of his fingers. And THATbrought an immediate and keening loud response from Law, one the other could not hide even if he wanted to. This time it was Kid's turn for some dirty talk of his own.

"Well look at that, it looks like that got you going jackass. As cool and collected as you like to act, seeing you moan unrestrained paints such a pretty picture. I'll have to think of this the next time I jack off."

After a while of hammering the others prostate, Kid finally pulled his fingers free with a lewd 'shlick' sound accompanying the withdrawal. At the same time, Kid finally let go of the others head, deeming it time to get on with the main event sooner rather than later.

Moving so that he hovered over the smaller males back, he took the time to trace the black lines of that damning Tattoo over with his tongue before leaving a nice bite mark over the smiley portion on the tanned skin so that it could be seen in a mirror later.

Lining himself up with the slick entrance. Kid only gave one warning in the form of his own challenge to the other male. "If you can even still move after I'm through with you, Then maybe I'll let you take the reigns Law." said man's eyes widened as that was the first time Kid had chosen to call him by his first name.

He had little time to process that though as without hesitation, Kid took one hard thrust until his hips pressed flush with Laws ass. "You see? If you really didn't like being fucked so much your ass wouldn't be trying to devour my cock like this eh, Trafalgar?" ah, there he goes back to the last name again he knew it wouldn't last.

After sitting still for a little bit due to the force with which Law's walls were clamping down on Kid's dick, He finally began to move starting with slow but heavy thrusts that left a resounding 'Slap' of skin meeting skin each time their hips met.

For a while, all that could be heard aside from that was the rythmic creaking of the bed frame and the low grunts and growls both men gave. That temporary non-verbal silence was broken when Kid swung a hand down to smack one of Law's ass cheeks hard enough to leave a reddening imprint. This resulted in a surprised shout from law who, if looks could kill, Kid would be dead on the floor now.

But once again, Kid was impervious to that stare, knowing that as Law was now, he wouldn't dare do anything unless he wants to give himself a case blue balls. To check just to be certain, Kid reached the same hand down between the others thighs to grasp the leaking hard shaft he found there. Grinning at this Kid couldn't resist a little prodding.

"Look at this, Your eyes are telling me to go fuck myself but I can clearly tell whose the one that really wants to get fucked here. Starting his thrusts up again, this time harder and faster so that the headboard of the bed now began to clang against the wall. Kid also moved to stroke Law in time to his thrusts as now it wouldn't be long until they both hit their highs.

And right on time too, he felt the shaft in his hand give a tell tale twitch in preparation for the second orgasm of the night, while Kid was quickly approaching his first. It didn't mean he was out of it yet, it would just take a short bit until he could hopefully initiate another round knowing that his rival could keep up with his impressive stamina.

The first to come undone was Law, who came with a shout all over the sheets below them, Kid made a mental note to toss those aside when they inevitably continued, because neither really planned to stick around long enough to snuggle over night. The mere thought almost had kid choking back bile coming up his throat. A mutually beneficial relationship such as theirs had no room to grow with prides far too big to be pushed aside.

It took a few more hard thrusts before Kid finally began to come undone as well with a louder groan, Quickly removing himself from the pliant body beneath him, Kid was fast in removing the condom in order to jerk himself off to completion. The result of which was in painting the now thoroughly marked up jolly roger on Law's back in shades of white, black, and reddened tan skin. It made for a beautiful portrait in Kids eyes, it was a shame he had no way of taking a picture for later use.

As his cock began to soften and shrink, Kid made to properly dispose of the used condom in his other hand, aiming just right with his toss to the nearby trash bin before collapsing down to rest himself, burying his face into a soft pillow for a brief while.

However unbeknownst to him, Law laid beside him, having turned over on his back after wiping his himself off, stared at the ceiling before a wicked smirk came over his face with a particularly evil gleam in his golden eyes. Softly summoning a 'Room' so that Kid couldn't hear in his drowsy state, Law quickly teleported a silky black band up to his hands along with his own lube and condom (because like hell he would ever use that grease Kid called lube.) He dismissed the room and mentally prepared himself for the due revenge he intended on exacting on Kid while also taking this next opportunity to take control for himself.

[flannelpunkcalum]

Twinkle Twinkle Little Bat - Part 1

backstreets back go tell a friend. I would like to have more of this written before I start posting it but given that i’m likely to have a lot more time to write now and, you know, maybe it’ll be a good distraction. anyway I hope if you read the original this has everything you liked from it and if you DIDN’T you should go read that. 

tdwk masterlist

ttlb masterlist

* * * 

He was fast. Aspen tried to counter his punch, but the blow glanced off her shoulder and knocked her back. Fuck. He tried to sweep his leg under her, but she jumped over it the second she saw his hips twitch. 

If she hadn’t been gasping for breath, she would have smiled. She was fast, now, too. 

She had half a second to think before the next blow came. She ducked, but she felt knuckles graze her temple. Close one. She couldn’t afford to get bruised, now, not while she had work. 

She could feel herself getting tired. This has to end, now, before he noticed her exhaustion, too. The second she found her centre she lunged, going for the takedown, but he darted behind her and grabbed her arm, twisting it behind her. Aspen didn’t think, she just rolled, and she felt her foot hit bone behind her as she somersaulted her arm out of his grip. She wheeled around, and for a long moment she and her opponent circled each other. 

“You’re getting better.” Dick said. His tiny fists were raised. 

“I’m sorry I kicked you there,” Aspen said. She’s winded. Dick is not. It stings just as much as it did the first day, that she’s so unfit compared to him, but hey, he’s a circus kid, those are both advantages. She’d get there too, eventually. Dick took her on the trapeze the other day. 

“You didn’t hurt me.” Dick smiled, which was the only cue Aspen gots before he hit her with a spinning back kick right in the gut. It bypassed her own defensive stance, it was so fast, and it felt like someone threw a brick at her stomach. When she doubled over, he grabbed her arm and threw her over his shoulder on to her back on the mat, twisting her elbow and wrist with surgical precision until she tapped out. He let her go, then, offering her a hand up without a shred of pre-teen smugness. Aspen wondered, not for the first time, how this kid is so chill, how he managed to be this nice while kicking her ass, but she just closed her eyes and let her head collapse against the mats. 

Dick laughed. Good. Kid didn’t smile enough. 

“That’s enough for today.” Calum says. He’d been watching from outside of the mats, like he did every time she sparred with Dick. 

“Good work, Grayson. I’m just gonna stay here, do a quick quality control test of the mats. I’ll catch up.” Aspen nodded, not opening her eyes. Thank god they’re done. Some of this training felt good, she wasn’t going to lie, but about this time every morning she was tempted to just let Dick kick her ass until Calum let her go have a shower. 

She could feel Calum’s presence above her as Dick’s footsteps tapped off of the mat and then out the door. Calm didn’t move, and after a long moment Aspen cracked an eye open to see him looking down at her, with that face he does when he’s really trying not to be amused by her. He was, she knew he was. “Mats are good.” She announced, opening her eyes all the way and giving him a tired smile. Calum stuck out a hand to help her up, and this time, she took it. “Fairly high quality, good condition -” 

Halfway through helping her up, Calum knocked her feet out from under her and yanked on her hand, pulling her into his chest as she fell on top of him. Her head was spinning, but once she got her bearings she realized he was lying on his back, with her lying chest to chest on the mats. His grip is tight; he’s clinging to her. She can feel her heart thumping against his solid chest. 

“Focus, Penny.” Calum said. He had her right on top of him, his eyes sparkling into hers. 

“Oh, I’m focused.” She smiled. “What am I focused on, again?” 

Calum laughed a little. She felt lightheaded. She loved these moments before they kissed. “You’re in a bit of a scrape here, darling.” 

Aspen considered it for a second. Calum’s other hand was on her waist, holding her steady. He was smiling up at her. He was sweaty from their workout earlier, and his hair was all messed up. He almost looked normal like this. Like her gym-buddy-boyfriend in basketball shorts. Her heart thudded against his chest harder. “I’m in complete control of this situation.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

Calum flipped them over, supporting himself carefully over her. His hand is planted by her face; he’s careful not to hold her down. His other hand was still steady at her waist. “You sure about that?” 

Aspen smiled bigger. “You’ve fallen right into my cunning trap.” 

“That’s sure what it looks like.” Calum teased before he leaned in to kiss her. It was light, at first, but she pressed deeper, keeping him there. It felt good. She couldn’t feel her aching muscles anymore; she was out of breath for an entirely different reason. It felt so good she almost forgot to wrap her leg around his, trap his arm, and tilt her hips to tip him over on to his back. Almost. 

Calum let her grab his wrists as she straddled him, trapping his hands against his chest as she looked down on him. She knew he was letting her do this, she’d seen him in a fight. It still felt good, though. The first time she had tried that, he had just laughed. Now he was playing at being trapped beneath her. “Goddamn,” He said, obviously pleased. Aspen would be pretty pleased too, with a good-looking girl on top of her, but it was more than that. He was proud. Maybe he didn’t resist her maneuver, but he hadn’t been expecting it, either. 

After that, Aspen didn’t waste her time. She leaned in, knitting her fingers in Calums as she kissed him, and he opened his mouth almost immediately to let her kiss him deeper. She felt warm all over. Calum smelled sweaty and rich and it was driving her wild. 

Calum pulled back after a moment, and Aspen let him, just so she could catch her breath. She could hear him smile in the small space between them. But his hand slipped from hers to give her waist a gentle squeeze. “We have work,” he reminded her. 

Aspen dropped her head into the crook of his neck and pouted her lips, brushing up against his neck. He was right, she just hated to let go of him. It was so recently she got to kiss him at all, it still felt like a privilege. “I guess I’ll let you go this time.” She said, heaving herself off him. 

She was picking up her water bottle and towel when she heard Calum find his feet behind her. The mats amplified his sounds. On any other terrain, he’d be soundless. “And here I was gonna tell you to be more aggressive when you’re sparring.” 

“I can be aggressive when I’m not fighting a kid.” Aspen said, trying to focus in on the training again. “You saw the security footage.” 

Calum reached out and squeezed her elbow. “I did.”

Aspen looked over at him, and he gave her a little smile. Just recently he had seen the footage of Liam attacking her. He had asked her if it would be alright, if he saw it, in that initial talk after he gave her the lab. She had wondered if he had already watched it, but she gave him permission anyways. Based on that, the first moves he had taught her were focused on getting out from under someone. He still wouldn’t spar with her, in case the experience of having a guy try to take her down freaked her out. Aspen was kind of thankful for it. She’d felt nothing but safe with Calum, but she’d also had a few nightmares, and she was gonna take it easy in any way she could at that point. She was tough, and she was gonna stay tough, but that meant not overwhelming herself just to look tough. 

They split apart after that, going their separate ways without a kiss goodbye. Aspen had her own bedroom in the manor. She hadn’t been allowed to stay over, but she had a place to keep her work clothes and a four-piece bathroom near the manor’s gym to get showered in every morning. Calum had stocked the room with, she was pretty sure, the most expensive soap you could find in Gotham - the prices when she looked up the brands made her head spin. She left his place every morning smelling like a basil-lavender-sicilian-lemon-rose, and feeling only a little bit like the world’s most complicated one-night stand. 

There were rules, you see. And they were good rules, and she understood them and all. Her problem was just the fact that these rules existed. Aspen, historically, had not done super well with Calum’s rules. 

He didn’t want Dick to know about them. That was fine, that was something Aspen understood, she didn’t want to waltz into his kid’s life while there was a possibility of them not… not seeing this through. Aspen, for her part, wasn’t crazy about being linked to him in the public eye. She’s seen how his girlfriends get treated in the supermarket check-out line. So that meant she hadn’t been able to stay over, and Dick’s pretty involved in the whole “Batman” thing so she hadn’t been able to have Calum over at hers without raising suspicion, and she wasn’t gonna be able to fuck him at the office, and neither of them could really do the seedy-motel thing, and… 

Long story short, these rules meant they haven’t done much more than kissing, and Aspen was starting to lose her shit about it. I mean, if he wasn’t feeling comfortable emotionally, that would have been one thing, but if it was just from circumstance… 

Aspen, in the steam-soaked shower, slipped one hand delicately between her legs. God, if only Calum was here. Her body was aching, but she wasn’t tired out yet, and she just yearned for this final bit of tension to be released. 

She takes a deep breath and turned around, turning the cold water on until it hurt her skin and gave her goosebumps. 

Fuck. 

Or rather, Profound Lack Thereof. 

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

“I don’t think you should be there.” Aspen said, pouring herself a cup of tea. Used to be she only grabbed something caffeinated in the afternoons, when she needed a pick-me-up, but between early mornings training and nights in the Cave she was starting to need more of it.

“It wasn’t a question.” Calum replied, knife clinking against the plate. They were in the kitchen, having breakfast at the little table with Dick while Alfred busied himself around the stove. 

“You don’t need to be there the whole time with the DA. I’ll be fine.” She insisted, cracking open a scone. Honey ginger. Alfred was mixing it up this morning. 

“I know you’ll be fine, but I want to be there anyways. At least for this first meeting. You're my employee, it'll look good for me to be supportive and involved.” 

"Dick thinks you should come home after work and hang out with him instead of coming to the meeting. They grow up so fast." Aspen said, giving both boys a wide eyed, emotional look. 

"I think he should be at the meeting, actually." Dick piped up. 

Aspen snapped into a glare. "Seen and not heard, Grayson." Dick grinned at her and wiped yolk off his mouth. He knew there was no venom in it. Aspen looked back across the table at Calum, where he was still looking back at her. He could be hard to distract when he wanted to be. 

Dick had started watching their spat like a tennis match, poached eggs forgotten, as Aspen geared up for her rebuttal. “As far as the DA knows - and correct me if I’m wrong - Liam and I are just unfortunate employees of yours. I think it might be a little suspicious. You can stop by at the start or the end to say hi and continue your professional relationship with the DA’s office, but I don’t need you to babysit me through the whole thing.” She couldn't say it out loud, but she didn't want to make the DA suspicious that there was something more between them. Romance-wise or caped-vigilante wise. "I mean, you are also Liam’s boss. Do you visit him when he's meeting with his legal team?" 

Calum's eyebrow twitched, even though the rest of his face was impassive. Aspen smiled. She knew he loved it when she hit him with a good argument. "I was his boss, and he wouldn't want me there. Also, he did kidnap you." 

"Good point. Counter: I also don't want you there." 

Calum smiled and ducked his head. "We'll discuss this at work." He said, and Aspen couldn't tell if that meant she won or not. 

"I guess we will." 

Aspen turned back to her scone, buttering it pointedly. It took a lot of effort to butter something pointedly, but she was determined. She couldn't maintain her facade once she took a bite, though. The scone was still warm, melted butter running through the fluffy insides over chunks of candied ginger - fuck, she was going to have to take another cold shower. "Mr. Pennyworth, another triumph." She announced. 

"Thank you, Ms. McMichael." The butler called over from the stove. "Again, I did ask you to call me Alfred." 

"And I asked you to call me Aspen, so it looks like we're at an impasse, huh." She said, after another bite. 

Dick caught her eye as she set about buttering the other half of her scone, and something in his gaze almost made her pause. Hm. That looked like trouble. Maybe it was time she saw herself out. "I think I'm gonna head out now. My big meeting at the hospital is tomorrow and although I have some wealthy patrons and the like behind me, I want to be prepared." She took her napkin off her lap and downed the rest of her tea quickly, winking at her wealthy patron across the table. “Plus if we’re, uh, working late tonight I need to get it done as soon as possible so I can focus.” 

“Good luck!” Dick said cheerfully. 

Aspen gave him the stinkeye, even though she appreciated the sentiment. “I’m gonna kick your ass tomorrow morning.” She promised. 

“Like hell you will.” 

“Not at the table, if you please, Master Grayson.” 

Aspen stuck her tongue out at Dick as she left. Calum shook his head near-imperceptibly at her, but he was fond, she could tell. At least, that was probably fond. She’d put $5 on it. 

“Hopefully I won’t see you gentlemen tonight.” She said as Alfred came over to help her with her coat. 

“Let’s hope.” Calum agreed from the table. He hadn’t gotten up. “Let’s meet after lunch to discuss the meeting?” 

Aspen knew she wasn’t getting out of this. “Drop by the lab whenever.” She sighed. “See ya, boys!” 

She smiled to herself on the way out the door. One of the best things about this new life was finding a place at Hood Manor. She had been disconnected from her roommates ever since the promotion to PA, and now, with her fucked up hours at work and in the Cave, she saw them less than ever. It was nice to have somewhere she fit again, that was all. Being the person who drank tea with Alfred while Cal and Dick, for some reason, took decaf coffee. Being Dick’s godforsaken sparring partner. It felt a little bit like having a life. 

Aspen slid into the driver’s seat of her car. Her new car. Not just new to her, either, new new. There wasn’t a convenient transit route up to the Manor, and if she was coming up every morning before work and every night after, Calum figured he’d just… buy her a car. He didn’t fuck her on top of it, it didn’t get THAT shades of grey, but holy shit, she had a quasi-boyfriend who bought her a car. She still felt a little thrill every time she turned the key in the ignition. He had offered to pay for gas, too, but she had insisted on taking care of that herself. He would have, though. If she let him. He would have taken care of everything. 

Sometimes Aspen wonders what might have happened if things had unspooled differently. If, after Calum had kissed her that night, she hadn’t gone back to help Liam. Maybe if she had played her cards right she’d be burning in the sun in Mexico, or on an iron-wrought balcony in Paris. Maybe Calum would have been with her. Probably not. Aspen was almost certain she’d made the right choice, in the end. I mean, she had this car, now. But she wondered, every so often. 

She always took the long way to work, and today (after she took advantage of the parking spot with her name on it) she stopped by the coffee shop around the corner. It still felt weird, to be able to buy a tea in the morning without going into a shame spiral over wasting her money on something she could make at home, and how she was gonna waste all her money on this, and drink herself into poverty like some Charles Dickens character on hard Earl Grey. The baristas were starting to remember her. It felt surreal. She used to be a barista remembering people and trying to get a perfect ristretto shot -- not in Gotham, but while she had been in school. This was gonna wear off eventually, she was sure, getting knocked on her ass every few minutes about the intangible what-the-fuck-ness of her life, but for now… 

Her current project at work was teaching herself programming. Well, she called it teaching herself. Whenever she got really stuck, something she couldn’t fix with a google search and a prayer, she’d wander down the hall to whatever software engineer had the best opinion of her at this point. She was learning some basics - she was getting ambitious for sure, trying to code a machine-learning AI to create an index of violent deaths in Gotham, comparing the crimes to the villain they were attributed to or proven to be from. Anyone could look at a corpse with facial rictus and say it was a Joker special, but she’d be interested to see if there were any less obvious signatures from Gotham’s flourishing criminal community that they just hadn’t noticed. 

When she got really frustrated, she’d take a break, roll her chair back and slouch and try to collect her thoughts. She had a few tanks of critters Calum hadn’t noticed until after they had moved in, and she let him and Dick name most of them, so he wasn’t mad about it. She watched the axolotls, Martha and Achilles, wiggle around the aquarium for a minute. 

She hasn’t started a proper research project yet. She’s been running PCR gels and such for Calum, especially back at the Cave, but for a while she hadn’t been able to think of exactly what she wanted to dedicate her time and extensive resources to until Calum had to fight off a Venom-crazed junkie and came back bruised and bloody. That wasn’t exactly new, but the other guy hadn’t made it through the withdrawal combined with the stress from the injuries. Then Aspen knew. Might as well give back to the hospital that gave her her first stitches since that canoe trip when she was sixteen, right? They needed it most, too. Venom wasn’t really starting to get national attention yet, partly from the mayor’s attempts to keep it quiet. Cal had filled her in on that. 

Anyway, she was meeting with the board tomorrow to see if they’d approve the collaboration with her as chief liason. Which. She was gonna be one of the only people without “Dr.” before her name in that room and she was gonna be coordinating a big research project, hopefully meaningfully participating in it, and - it was big, was all. 

Maybe it was good that she hadn’t slept with Calum yet. Wouldn’t want to think that this was just because she was a pretty face. 

Well. Such as it was. She rubbed her scar absentmindedly, staring at her computer screen.

She heard Calum’s footsteps before he knocked on the doorframe of the lab. When she wasn’t doing wet lab, Aspen liked to leave the door open. If Calum happened to be swinging by, he’d be able to see her at her computer and know she was okay without having to duck in. Of course, he did also have cameras in the room, but she liked to think he noticed and appreciated this too. 

 She turned in her chair and gave him a smile before she spoke. She was still being careful about what she said to him at work, at least while the door was open. “How’s it going, boss?” She grinned, raising an eyebrow at him. 

That was careful for her, anyways.

“Always a pleasure, Ms. McMichael.” Calum didn’t smile back, but he had a warm look in his eye, and that was enough. “I was hoping to talk about the meeting at the DA’s this evening. May I?” 

His hand was on the doorknob. Aspen was almost squirming in her seat. “Please.” She said, in her most polite voice, and Calum closed the door. 

Immediately, Aspen stood up and started to walk over to him. Not too fast. He didn’t need to know how eager she was for him to just touch her again. Calum looked her up and down as she walked over, jaw flexing. “I really do want to talk about the meeting.” He said. 

Aspen didn’t reply until she was already within arm’s reach and Calum’s hands had closed around her waist and pulled her in. She leaned closer, the tip of her nose brushing his cheek as she ghosted her lips over his. “I know you do.” She said, so close she knew he could feel her lips flex into the words. 

Calum groaned, lips parted, eyes already closed, waiting for her to lean in and complete the kiss. Aspen knew that. She didn’t move. After a long, long second, Calum groaned again and grabbed the back of her neck, pulling her in for a kiss with mouths already half-open, deep, totally work inappropriate. Aspen couldn’t help but smile against his mouth, pressing her body up against his so close she almost fell when he stepped her back until her back hit something he could kiss her up against. He smelled clean now, like boy and expensive cologne, and Aspen knew for the rest of the day she’d be smelling him on her skin. Fuck. 

After a few long moments, he drew back, keeping one hand tight in her hair so she couldn’t chase his lips. He’d picked up on doing that surprisingly quickly, and she kind of wished it didn’t turn her on so much. “You’re a terrible tease, you know that, darling?” He murmured as she tested his grip. 

Once she established that he wasn’t going to let her go for another kiss, Aspen leaned her head back, looking at him through half-lidded eyes, throat open and unmarked. “What’re you gonna do about it?” 

Calum closed his eyes and huffed out a breath, finally letting her go as he rolled so he was next to her, back up against the same wall. “Nothing. For now.” He conceded, finding her hand without opening his eyes. 

“Oh, good, no consequences.” Aspen teased once she had caught her breath, rubbing her thumb along his knuckles. Calum cracked his eyes open and turned his head to smile at her as she brought his hand to her lips and kissed the knuckle of his pinky finger, then the ring finger, then the middle, then the pointer. Then, once he had been lulled into a false sense of security, she slipped her fingers out of his and grabbed his wrist, pulling two of his fingers into her mouth to the first knuckle before he could make a fist and cut her off. She could feel him test her grip as she drew her tongue along the underside, but he was more than strong enough to break her hold entirely, and he didn’t. Aspen met his eyes and hollowed her cheeks, and when he experimentally pushed his fingers a few centimeters deeper she let go of him and let her hand trail down to grip his forearm, putting him in complete control. 

“Fuck, Penny, look at you.” Her heartbeat picked up as he experimentally started to fuck her mouth with his fingers. He never went deep enough to gag her, but he started to use a little more force, and she let him. Was this how it was gonna happen? Up against a wall in her lab? Would he bend her over her desk so she couldn’t sit down to work without thinking about his grip on her hips, his hand in her hair? Calum was looking at her like he’d devour her if he could, fixated on her lips wrapped around his fingers, but when their eyes met again he snapped out of it, withdrawing his fingers and using that hand to grip her jaw, palm pressed against the ridges of her throat. It felt like he knocked the breath right out of her. Aspen groaned and tested his grip, but she wasn’t going anywhere. 

Calum watched her squirm for a second, smile on his lips when she relaxed. “God, you’re a menace.” He said. She could feel the cool wetness of his fingers against her jaw. It had only been a few seconds, but the feeling would stay with her all day. 

She took a deep breath to try and calm the pounding of her heart, regain her composure. “Means a lot to hear it from you, sir.” She smiled. 

Calum moved in for a quick kiss, a peck, and he kept his hold on her the whole time so she couldn’t chase his lips and draw him back in. “You really have to stop that.” He said, letting her go, and this time Aspen was ready to focus and not try to make out with her illicit boyfriend. 

“Fine.” She sighed, walking back to the desks and pulling out a chair for him, too. Not that she had stopped her seduction entirely. She knew he was watching her walk away. “Step into my office. Let’s talk about the appointment with the DA.” 

In the end, Aspen got her way. Kind of. They decided together that Calum would accompany her to the DA’s office, but not stick around too long. He was not to be coming into the meeting with her. She was putting her foot down. He made it hard, given that he was adorable and kept trying to give her little touches to get her to cave. 

Unfortunately, she didn’t have to suck his dick to get him to agree. Next time, maybe. 

As Calum left, he paused with his hand on the doorknob. He hadn’t opened the door yet, which was the only reason he smiled and said “Be good,” after he kissed her goodbye at her desk. 

Aspen grinned lopsidedly. “Oh, I’m very good, sir.”

Calum sighed, fingertips still on the doorknob like he didn’t want to leave. “Stop. You know what that does to me.” He almost pouted. 

Aspen was delighted. She liked when they could have serious, intense, sexually charged moments, but this was fun. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, boss.” She said, without bothering to feign innocence. 

“Sure.” Calum shook his head. “I’ll meet you back here when it’s time to leave for the DA’s office, alright?”

“Sounds good. Have a very calm and productive day.” She said, and she meant it, a little. She didn’t want him distracted by their unbearable sexual tension for the whole afternoon. That would just be cruel.

He laughed as he opened the door to leave. “Likewise, Ms. McMichael.” 

Aspen didn’t say goodbye, just smiled at him as he left. She knew if she did, it would come out too soft, too fond, and if any of her coworkers were passing by they might hear it and get suspicious. It was fun, for a second, to feel like she was caught in an office affair without the violence and terror and legal frustration of the other half of her life. For a second, she pretended to be a regular scientist, just trying to violate HR regulations and fuck her boss. 

She smiled and shook her head to clear it. She had to get back to work. 

[fairie-gothmother]

In The Shadow of Starlight, Part 7: Bandit Lyfe

First Part: The Fall 

Previous Part: Gut Instincts

Troy groaned in pain and anger. If every return trip from Sanctuary was going to involve being jammed into a drop pod, they’d better be few and far between. He cursed Lilith for not allowing him to sync with their New-U stations. Immediately after landing at the Crimson Raider base, the old Lieutenant ordered Troy to stay in his room, which had further soured his mood. 

Troy was restless, irritated and still buzzing with energy. He flopped onto the bed, closed his eyes, and attempted to get a grip on himself.

Knock knock.

“What?” Troy snapped.

A gravelly voice called, “I had a feeling that was you in the drop pod.” Raz slipped inside the room. After taking one look at Troy sprawled out on bed, he added, “You look like hell.”

“You’re lucky I’m too sore to get up and strangle you,” Troy threatened half-heartedly, rubbing his aching neck. 

"I take it you didn't have much luck with the scientist," Raz guessed.

The Calypso sighed. "Nope. Managed to get a little extra gas in my tank, though. Long story," Troy indicated by waving his glowing hand before placing it over his eyes.

“Well, now. I’d say that’s cause for celebration. How about I offer you a drink to lift your spirits?”

“Aren’t you on probation?” Troy asked.

“Technically, yes. But what the higher ups don't know won’t hurt ‘em. Or would you rather be a good little Crimson Raider and stay put?” Raz winked and beckoned toward the door.

In response, Troy threw a pillow past Raz’s head hard enough for it to burst into a puff of feathers. 

Raz pulled a feather from his beard. “Hmph. Not even Octavia needed this much convincing. Suit yourself.” With a shrug, he turned to leave.

Troy lowered the second pillow he was about to chuck at his ex-general. “And you left her alone with drunk bandits?” The Calypso jumped up from the bed. He hadn’t taken two steps before he caught the suspicious looks Raz shot at him. Troy wasn’t in the mood. “Alright, you win. I need to blow off some steam anyway.” He shouldered past the shorter man, and they both made their way across the compound.

~~~

Octavia accepted the bottle of rakk ale Raz offered. “Music and booze? Did you happen to organize something that Lieutenant Cramer wouldn’t approve of?” 

“Cramer isn’t invited.” Raz opened his own bottle of ale and clinked it against hers. “Welcome to your first bandit bash.”

The ex-bandit recruits had managed to transform the small lot behind the Crimson Raider compound into a convincing outdoor pub. They handed out drinks and gathered around a bonfire while a radio played upbeat rock music. 

Even Troy had joined in on the event. Octavia hadn’t seen him since he passed out in the medical room, which had been tense and awkward. She ran her gaze over him, careful not to linger long enough to be caught staring. He had his swagger back, siren marks glowing brightly. Once everyone was confident that he wasn’t going to slaughter them, Troy became the life of the party. He was a god among bandits, after all.

Octavia wasn’t sure what she expected, but hanging with bandits was enjoyable. The burn of alcohol in the back of her throat was odd so early in the afternoon, even for a day off, but it was a welcome sensation. Her stress was melting away, emboldening her to let loose a bit. Today was just about having fun. And dammit, she deserved it.

As the day went on, Octavia had consumed enough liquid courage to unglue herself from Raz’s side. One of the younger bandit guys sat next to her at the bar. After some easy conversation and exchanging names, he declared her his new friend. She had unfairly stereotyped him as another blood thirsty idiot. He wasn’t particularly bright, but Octavia was warming up to him.

“And that’s why I don’t like stalkers. Those invisible assholes give me the creeps,” he said, slicking back his ash blonde hair.

Octavia swiveled in her chair to face him, bumping her knees against his in the close space. “So let me get this straight. You don’t think stalkers have tails, but instead have really long-”

“Of course! What else do you think that thing is for?”

“I think it’s just a tail, Collin,” Octavia laughed. 

Collin opened his mouth to argue further but was interrupted by a familiar gravelly voice. 

“Harassing the new girl already?” Raz had reappeared casually smoking at the bar beside them. 

Collin greeted him. “Did you know Octavia is gonna be working in the greenhouse? She-” Collin’s eyes widened when he noticed who was approaching. 

Troy Calypso glanced down at their knees touching with a slight raise of his eyebrows, making Octavia uncomfortable enough to scoot back. His mechanical arm reached across the bar to claim a bottle of liquor, then the Calypso turned back to the entourage following at his heels. Not staring was harder than it should have been. The way he relished in the spotlight with effortless charisma was mesmerizing. 

“What do you think, Octavia?”

Collin’s question pulled her out of her daze, and her face reddened when she realized she’d zoned out on the question.

“Um, sorry. What?”

Collin repeated, “Do you think you could get me in the greenhouse? I’d kill to get out of the shop. I keep trying to convince the foreman to let me make weapon prototypes.”

Raz butted in. “Ha! The last time you presented one of your prototypes, it blew up in your face. Literally. You singed both your eyebrows.” 

Collin sheepishly scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah.” Then he held up both hands. “But I managed to keep all my fingers.”

“Real cute, punk,” Raz said, flipping the younger man half of a bird.

Octavia couldn’t help but chuckle at their banter. “Wow. You have all your teeth and fingers? Not bad for a bandit.”

Collin flashed an exaggerated smile, displaying all of his pearly whites.

The radio music changed to a poppy dance song. Collin’s face lit up. “Ooh, I love this song!” He jumped up from his seat and extended his hand. “Dance with me.”

Octavia didn’t have time to decline before she was pulled from her chair into the group of bandits dancing around the fire. Even with a buzz, she was not willing to embarrass herself on the dance floor. Collin had moves that put her stiff shuffling to shame. She appreciated his help giving her little spins and twirls. She prayed she could fake it well enough to get through the song.

She glanced around the area to see how many people were watching her make a fool out of herself. Her eyes wandered to Troy, who was basking in the attention of several bandits. Her stomach fluttered when one of the women leaned in closely and whispered into his ear.

“I need another drink,” Octavia said to her dance partner. 

~~~

This was how the Calypso twins spent most of their time in the early days of the Children of the Vault. Partying with their followers, dancing to whatever played on the radio, drinking cheap alcohol. The familiarity was comforting to Troy. The difference with today was the absence of his sister outshining him. 

“I always did like you more than Tyreen,” crooned a female admirer into Troy’s ear.

“Bullshit. You were a total God Queen simp,” said another girl. 

The first woman swatted at the other for calling her out. “You bitch, I only bought her merch because the color goes better with my eyes.”

The ex-God King flashed his golden fangs. “Ya know, that right there is considered false devotion. Do you know how I used to handle the falsely devoted?” he asked sweetly. When the woman shook her head, he placed two fingers of his siren hand beneath her chin and tilted her head to the side. “It meant you'd get your pretty little throat ripped out.”

The woman was so drunk that the threat went completely unrecognized. “Pretty?” she giggled.

Troy rolled his eyes as he released her. He took a swig from the bottle clenched in his mechanical fist. Although he missed having admirers, ones like this annoyed him. Even without his twin here, he still couldn't escape her shadow.

Troy slipped away from his entourage, snuck over to the bar, and told the man behind it to mix him a drink. Where was Raz? He wanted to give him shit for setting up a bar with no lime wedges. Looking toward the edge of the lot, he spotted Octavia sitting by the fence. A young, blonde pretty-boy was attempting to get her to her feet. She shook her head, and pretty-boy gave her a pat on the shoulder before returning to the fireside to dance. Troy ordered a second cocktail and walked over to her. 

“You look thirsty,” Troy said, holding the drink out to her. “I’d say my treat, but open bar and all.”

Octavia looked up in surprise and took the cup with an appreciative smile. “I’d say thanks, but open bar and all.” She took a sip and wrinkled her nose. “What’s this?”

“Lemon Lime & Bullets. Minus the lime.” Troy threw his drink down in one gulp. He watched in amusement as Octavia fished out the bullet from her own cup with her finger. 

“I see what you’re doing. You’re trying to get on my good side,” she said slyly.

“Hm, am I? I guess that depends. Is it working?” he asked with a cocky grin.

“Maybe a little,” she said, taking another sip of her now ammunition-less cocktail.

He sat on the ground beside her, rested his back against the chain link fence, and nodded toward the dancing silhouettes a short distance in front of them. “Let me guess. You don’t dance.”

“It’s not my thing,” she said.

“Aw, come on. Let me teach you some moves. Only slightly provocative ones, I promise.”

She smiled. “Tempting, but I’ll pass.”

Troy huffed, “Alright, fine. You’re no fun. If you don’t dance and you don’t even fit in with these people, what are you doing here?”

Octavia was visibly bothered by the comment. He realized how shitty that sounded and rushed to rephrase. “I mean, it’s cool you’re here. I just don’t get it. There’s a lot I don’t get about you, witchdoctor.” He ruffled her hair with his siren hand.

She pushed his hand away and smoothed her hair back into place. Troy swore he saw a hint of pink in her cheeks. “I’m not sure myself. I never come to these kinds of things, but I guess I thought it might be fun.”

“Well, are you having fun?”

She looked up to meet his eyes. “Yeah. I think I am.” 

Maybe it was the alcohol or the extra energy in his body that was making his brain fuzzy, but in that moment Troy was certain what Octavia wanted. Anticipation hung in the air, along with the suspense that comes when someone flicks their eyes down to your lips and back. She tipped her head back, just enough to give him permission, and then-

A vibration from Troy’s pocket made him jump. “What the hell?” The Echo he’d nicked from Sanctuary nearly vibrated out of his pocket. There was a message.

//Unknown_User//: smile 4 the camera :)

The display automatically opened a live video feed showing a man and a woman sitting on the ground with their backs against a chain link fence. Troy recognized the back of his own head. Oh fuck.

“Boom time, heretics!” a voice shouted from behind.

Thinking fast, Troy grabbed Octavia and shielded her against the blast. The force from the explosion sent the two of them tumbling across the ground.

“Vi, you need to run.”

“B-but what-,” she squeaked. 

“Now!” he ordered, and she took off toward the base.

The fence had been blown open. Bandits and psychos were pouring inside, firing guns and swinging buzzaxes. Cambots floated through the air above, recording the onslaught.

“Alright then, party crashers. Let's dance.” Troy opened his mechanical hand, and his sword digistructed into his palm. A smile spread impossibly wide across his face until the jaw split open at the modified hinges. The God King slashed through the crowd, decapitating and disemboweling. He roared, shredding throats open with his jaws. Psychos screamed as he crushed their skulls in his mechanical hand. The popping of bone, the squishing of flesh, the warmth of blood. So much red. It was a rush of euphoria.

A cambot hovered overhead focused on Troy. The Calypso snatched up a bandit by the neck. “You assholes weren't invited,” he growled, somewhat garbled through his open jaws.

The bandit choked, “Tyreen will protect me...The Reaping... shall purge-” The rest was lost as neck tendons stretched and snapped until the bandit’s head was ripped off. Troy flung the severed head at the cambot, sending it spinning through the air.

Alarms sounded from the Crimson Raider base. Soldiers emerged from the building and joined the fight against the invaders. Across the lot, Raz shot at multiple cultists who were retreating with a large metal cage. Troy sprinted over to him. “Raz, it’s the Reaping.”

“I know. The bloody bastards are taking prisoners,” Raz yelled, reloading his rifle. 

More cages were being hauled outside the fence and loaded into COV vehicles. Troy gave chase, using the broad side of his blade to block the barrage of gunfire. He reached the nearest cage and slashed into the cultists. So much red. Troy pulled the door off the hinges and freed the Raider recruits inside. Another cage was nearby. 

“Let me go!” cried out the voice of Octavia. Her hands swung at her captors from within the bars.

Troy made a run for it. His blood boiled. Every single one of these fuckers was going to die. Everything he saw was red. Red. With his blade raised, prepared to carve these cultists into pieces, he was blindsided with a sucker punch to the face. The blow made him stumble.

Double images swirled in Troy’s vision until he shook it off. Before him stood a familiar white haired siren, wiping away specks of his blood from her knuckles. “Well, this is annoying. I thought you’d be dead by now, but here you are chumming it up with the Crimson Traitors,” said Tyreen.

Troy’s jaws clicked shut so he could properly articulate. “Guess you’re just getting sloppy. The God Queen must be losing her touch,” he snarled and lunged at Tyreen. She easily dodged him with a sidestep, but Troy kept running past her. Octavia’s cage had been dragged outside of the fence. He could make it.

“Stop running, dear brother. Fight me!”

“What’s the matter, Ty? Can’t keep up?”

In a flash of fire, Tyreen teleported in front of him. Putting all his momentum behind it, the taller Calypso slammed his metal fist into the side of his twin’s head. Tyreen lost her footing and was thrown back several feet. Once again, he ran for the cage now being loaded into a COV vehicle. He could still make it. Troy was close enough to see the fear in those cultists’ eyes. 

An electric pain hit Troy in the back, halting him in his tracks. It spread in a fiery trail through his entire body. He gasped, pulling air into his burning lungs. Still he continued moving forward, watching the world blur through his eyelashes. 

“Do you actually care about what happens to a bunch of vault thief wannabes?” Tyreen asked, slowly approaching with purple sparks dancing around her fingertips.

Another shot of electricity ripped through his insides. Troy squeezed his eyes closed. He felt his fingernails dragging across the dirt, not remembering when he hit the ground. He forced one eye open to see the COV vehicles pulling off.

A sharp kick to Troy’s stomach lurched his guts, causing bile to rise in his throat. Tyreen grabbed a fistful of his black hair and lifted his head, forcing him to watch her follower’s vehicles speeding away. “You do care, don’t you? Which one is it, I wonder.” The siren signaled to a cambot overhead. It swooped down and displayed a projection before the two of them.

They were scenes of the party from earlier today. It cycled from the dancers around the bonfire to Troy surrounded by admirers to people laughing at the bar to… Troy involuntarily whimpered at the image. 

“Jackpot,” Tyreen smiled wickedly. The projection showed Troy and Octavia, sitting on the ground together. “She is cute. Don’t worry, Troy. I’ll take good care of her.”

With more strength than someone her size should rightfully possess, Tyreen lifted her brother by the throat with one arm. Troy gagged and clawed at the fingers closing around his airways. Her blue siren marks pulsed as she activated her powers. 

“Now, do me a favor and die this time.”

Troy struggled against the leech. His chest throbbed as his movements shifted the crystals forming inside it. He couldn’t fight, couldn’t scream. He felt his eyes water, and his arms went limp at his sides. 

I wasn’t strong enough... I’m sorry.

~~~

“Eat shit, devil bitch!”

Lieutenant Cramer’s rocket hit the Calypsos, detonating into a plume of smoke and fire. Raz was concerned for Troy due to the size of the blast, but they were out of options, and Cramer was out of patience.

A hush fell over the field. The remaining Raiders and recruits had their sights focused on the smoke cloud, unable to see the twins inside it. Raz steadied his breath aiming down his rifle’s scope. 

Suddenly, something came flying from the smoke and landed heavily on the ground in front of the Raiders. Raz’s heart sank when he noticed the lifeless form of Troy lying before him. His skin was grey and glistened with purple crystals. Raz had to resist the urge to run to him. The God Queen emerged from the dust, not showing an ounce of remorse.

“Ya know, it is too easy taking your stuff. I was hoping for something more than just a few sparks,” Tyreen brushed the dust from her jacket. “I’m starting to feel kinda bad for you, so I’ll leave you a participation trophy.” She pointed to her brother’s form in the dirt and laughed maniacally. 

“Open fire!” commanded Cramer. The air erupted with thundering gunfire. The siren was too quick. She teleported out of sight in a flash of flames.

Raz rushed to the fallen Calypso, sliding on his knees. The light of his siren marks was dead, small crystals sprouted from his body in clusters. The bearded man put an ear to the cold skin of Troy’s bare chest. A heartbeat. The son of a bitch was still alive.

“He’s alive!” Raz yelled.

Cramer spoke into his Echo, “Base to Sanctuary. Commander Lilith, the damned devil bitch herself and her cultists attacked us. Many injured, more M.I.A. and Troy’s about to find out if the Great Vault exists because he’s a few breaths away from death.”

Raz could hear Lilith’s voice from where he still knelt by Troy’s side. “Damn! We’ll get them back, don’t worry. But we can’t afford to lose Troy now.” Lilith paused. “We don’t have any other choice. Give him blood.”

Raz looked the body up and down, then spoke up, “But he hasn’t lost much blood.”

“No.” Lilith sighed into the Echo, bracing herself for what she was about to say. “He needs to drink blood. Tannis thinks... There’s no time to explain. Just do it.”

No rest for the wicked. Eh, mate? Just hold on a little longer.

[legendofzeldaalinktothepast]

Pathetic, Clinging Poetry - Chapter 1 (of 25)

After escaping from the control of her mother, Pearl struggles to adjust to her new life. Her main source of comfort is an old composition notebook of poetry about her ex-girlfriend, and the possibility that she can find her again. 

Human AU. 

Trigger warning for implied abuse. 

Next Chapter 

*

When you embraced me, I felt like my feet could sink into the earth, And I was a flower who'd just sprouted. Yet I'd never been more free. 

*

Anxiety bubbled up in Pearl's chest as she glanced over to the backpack sitting in the corner of her room. She let out a sigh; she still couldn’t believe what she was about to do. Her heart ached for Peony, who she'd tried to convince to come along; but her sister insisted she couldn't bring herself to leave their mother all alone. Every now and then Pearl had considered staying behind just so Peony wouldn't suffer alone -- but she shook those thoughts off right away. She couldn't put this off any longer.

She rose to her feet and stretched, and then went over her mental checklist one last time. She'd packed just about all of the necessities, and enough bottled water and snacks to sustain her for the long car ride ahead. She'd deleted every photo and every last app on her phone; bringing it along only made it easier for someone to track her down, so she planned to leave it behind. All that was left was the tattered composition book Pearl stored beneath her mattress. Once she'd fished it out and slipped it into her bag, Pearl took a deep breath. 'This is not your fault. You wouldn't be doing this if you didn't have to. If she wanted you to stay, she wouldn't have given you so many reasons to leave.' Pearl silently reassured herself.

Slinging the bag over her shoulders, Pearl pushed her bedroom door open and tiptoed down the stairs as quietly as she could manage. A stair inevitably creaked here and there, but not loudly enough to wake anyone.

Pearl froze up once she reached the front door. She tried to reach out for the doorknob, but couldn’t bring her hand to move. Instead, she pressed her head against the door and let out a tiny whine. 'God, I wish I didn’t have to do this… Too late to change my mind now, though.' she thought, brushing a tear from her cheek. After finally pulling herself together, Pearl slowly turned the doorknob and pulled the door open -- flinching as it squeaked -- and stepped out into the chilly spring night. She locked the door behind herself -- hesitating one last time -- before she hurried out to her car and drove off.

*

The first night was unbearable; Pearl knew she shouldn't complain, though. Compared to many others in her situation, she was fairly lucky; she at least had a place to run away to. The couch wasn't even particularly uncomfortable, either; just the unfamiliarity of her surroundings and the chronic cold sweat from her anxiety made everything around her unpleasant.

She sat upright, smoothing out her matted hair; at least she was far away from her mother. That was what mattered more than anything. The sun began to shine through the window, and Pearl whined and buried her face back into her pillow. She'd probably gotten an hour of sleep, if she were to stretch it.

"You alright?"

Pearl flinched at the sudden voice, but she relaxed once she realized it was only Jasper. She was watching her from the doorway of the living room, a somewhat concerned expression on her face, a cup of steaming tea in her hands. "I wish I could say yes." Pearl responded, her voice just above a whisper.

Jasper reached for the string on the tea bag, moving it around in the cup. "Yeah, that's what I expected. And don't take this as me trying to bring you down, but don't expect to feel better right away. You're probably gonna feel like garbage for a while." she said; she took a sip from her cup and winced. "Ouch. There go my taste buds." she mumbled, blowing on the tea in an attempt to cool it off. "Anyway, once it passes –and it will,— you're gonna be glad you got yourself outta there."

Pearl sat upright, putting her head in her hands. "I really can't thank you enough for doing this." she said in an attempt to change the topic. "When I asked you if I could stay with you, I didn't think you'd say yes. I'd just been planning to live in my car until... I don't even know." she continued. "So... when you said yes, I really felt like I’d been blessed.”

"Pfft, please. I'm just doing what any decent human would if they could." Jasper said, setting her mug on the coffee table and sitting down beside Pearl. "Besides, it gets lonely around here. Sure, I've got my sister, but still. I've missed you."

Pearl couldn't help but blush. "Is there anything you'd like me to do while you're gone?" she asked.

Jasper shrugged. "I dunno. Don't burn the house down. Make some brownies or something."

"No, I'm serious! Give me a list of chores or something, I don't want to stay around here and be a burden on you!" Pearl insisted, clasping her hands.

"Pearl, just relax. You haven’t even been here for a whole day, and if I remember anything about you from high school, it's that you're clean as can be and eat like a bird. I don't think you're going to be a burden on either of us." Jasper said, resting a hand on Pearl's shoulder. "Just... chill."

Even though it should have been comforting, Jasper's stubbornness only frustrated Pearl. She got antsy when she didn't have anything to do... Even if there wasn't anything Jasper wanted from her, perhaps she could find something to clean or organize after she left… "...Alright. I'll focus on myself today -- or at least try to."

"Good. That's what I wanted to hear. I don't want you to do a single chore today, alright?" Jasper said, standing up and heading out of the living room. She stopped right in front of the doorway, glancing back at Pearl. "Except brownies. You should make brownies."

Pearl smiled and rolled her eyes. "Of course. I'll make my special recipe."

"Who the hell are you talking to at six in the morning?” a voice called from upstairs.

"Really, Ame? You forgot Pearl was here?" Jasper called. “I’m just making sure she’s comfortable before I go to work.”

"Oh, right." Amethyst peered into the living room from the top of the stairs, her hair a tangled mess. "Welp, I'm going back to bed, then. Nighty night, nerds."

"Nighty night, butthead." Jasper said. Once Amethyst had retreated back to her room, she turned back to Pearl. "On top of not burning the house down... Try to be quiet for Amethyst. She usually sleeps til noon and gets unbearable when she doesn't get her full twelve hours."

Pearl smiled. "I don't think that'll be a problem."

"I didn't think so either." Jasper said, continuing into the entry room and grabbing her coat from the closet. "Well, I gotta work now, as much as I'd rather stay here. Feel free to help yourself to whatever food we have. See you around four."

"See you later!" Pearl said, waving to Jasper as she headed out the door. Once she was gone, she flopped back down onto the couch and buried her face into the pillow, hoping to block out the sunlight that way. Talking to Jasper had helped her relax a bit, so maybe she’d be able to get a little sleep... The more she laid in silence, however, the more her mind was free to race, and she definitely couldn’t afford that. So she dragged herself to her feet and rubbed her eyes, groaning as she forced herself to stretch. Perhaps she could perk herself up with a little tea and catch up on sleep later...

* 

The sweet, chocolate scent of brownies filled the house; Pearl hummed to herself as she put on a pair of oven mitts and pulled the pan out of the oven, placing it on top of the stove.

"Oooh, watcha making?" Amethyst asked, her mere presence causing Pearl to jump in surprise.

"J-just some brownies." Pearl said, trying to hide just how much Amethyst had startled her. She didn't want to make her feel bad when she’d meant no harm… "They're for Jasper, but you're welcome to have some as well."

"Aw yeah!" Amethyst said with a grin. She grabbed a knife and cut out a huge slice of the brownie, attempting to scoop it onto a plate; but because it was still hot, it all fell apart into a pile of mush. She simply shrugged; "What matters is the taste, even if it's ugly." Amethyst said. She grabbed a fork from the dishwasher and sat down at the table, taking a bite. "Ouch, fuck, hot!"

Pearl stifled a giggle; what was with these two constantly burning their tongues? Did it run in the family or something? "Yes, well, it did just come out of the oven."

Amethyst rolled her eyes, taking a sip of water to cool her mouth off. "Yeah, yeah. Anyway." she began once she recovered, giving Pearl a curious-yet-teasing look. "So uh, what's your deal?"

Pearl was startled by the suddenness of her question; what was that even supposed to mean? "My... deal?"

"Yeah. I mean, Jasper didn't tell me jackshit about why you're even staying here. At first I thought you guys were banging or something, but then I wondered, why'd she make you sleep on the couch? Is it some obscure fetish I'm not aware of?"

Pearl blushed, cupping a hand over her mouth. "Dear Lord, no!" she gasped. Amethyst burst into laughter at the reaction, which only flustered Pearl even more. Amethyst apparently had no filter whatsoever... "She... Jasper allowed me to stay here because I needed to get away from where I was living. She was kind enough to give me a couch to sleep on."

"Mhm." Amethyst said once she recovered from laughing, wiping a tear from her eye. "And where were you living before?"

'She sure is nosy...' Pearl thought. "With my mother. A few states over. She was... very controlling. I couldn't stand to live with her any longer, so I ran away." Pearl said.

"Aw, that sucks." Amethyst said, taking another bite of her brownie; she looked a bit uncomfortable, as if she hadn't expected Pearl's answer to be that serious. "Sorry you had to deal with that shit. Also, these brownies are good as fuck."

Pearl tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, sitting down at the table across from Amethyst. She was somewhat thankful for the awkward change in conversation Amethyst had proposed. "Oh, thank you. I came up with the recipe myself! Or, well, I took another recipe and altered it until I thought it was perfect." Pearl said, resting her arms on the table and twiddling her thumbs. "Lots of chocolate chips is what makes them so gooey."

"I can tell. You're way better at this than Jasper." Amethyst said, resting her elbow on the table. "She always either burns or under-cooks her shit. You should give her cooking lessons." she teased, pushing her plate aside once she'd finished.

"Aw, well... I wouldn't want to be condescending." Pearl said, glancing to the side.

"Pfft. Not like she's never condescending." Amethyst said. "Also uh, I'm being super nosy again, and you can tell me to shut up if you want..." she began; Pearl tensed, praying Amethyst would have some common sense and not ask anything too intrusive. "But how do you know Jasper? Like, she's never mentioned you before. I mean, she barely tells me anything about her life, but I feel I’d at least have heard your name at some point. But it’s almost like she just pulled you out of thin air.”

Pearl couldn't help but let out a tiny sigh of relief. That wasn't the type of question she'd been expecting. "Oh, we used to be very close friends a while back. In high school, to be exact. But when I started doing home schooling instead, we sort of drifted apart. We hadn't really talked for years, up until a few weeks ago when I found her on Facebook." Pearl smiled softly. "As soon as she accepted my request, I explained my whole situation to her. I thought my chances were slim, that I'd have to just live in my car or something -- and it would have been completely reasonable for her to tell me no, so... I was really thankful when she said I could come stay with you two."

"Hm… That’s kinda weird of her. She never seemed like the type to just let an old high school friend come and sleep on our couch.” Amethyst said. "That said, she hasn't kicked me outta the house yet. But I guess I have an advantage because I'm her sister."

Pearl rose from her chair, tiptoeing over to the cabinet and grabbing a box of plastic wrap. "It's strange, because I don't even remember Jasper having a sister. How much younger are you?" she asked, covering up the tray of brownies.

"Like, three years. But I got adopted when I was fifteen and she was in her senior year of high school." Amethyst said.

"Ah, that's why I probably never heard about you, then." Pearl said, trying to hide her surprise; that would mean she was twenty three! Amethyst looked far younger than that, but perhaps she shouldn't have assumed. "I got pulled out of high school in the middle of my junior year -- I was a year ahead of Jasper."

"Lucky!" Amethyst said. "High school was absolute hell for me. I begged my parents to let me do home school, or at least go to a different school, but they insisted I stay right where I was." she pouted.

"Well..." Pearl began, but trailed off. She'd already overshared enough to Amethyst; she wasn't sure she was comfortable telling her the actual reason she'd been taken out of high school. "At least it's over now. I know high school can be hard. It wasn't exactly easy for me, either -- but I won't compare it to your experience, because I don't know what it was like for you. Still... I went through quite a bit of bullying for being a lesbian, among other things as well, b-but it was mostly because I was a lesbian. Jasper and my girlfriend, Rose, were the only friends I really had.”

"Yeah, I get you.” Amethyst said with a shrug. “I got treated like shit for being bi, too. Maybe not as bad as it could've been, though, because everyone knew Jasper was my sister and would beat the shit out of anyone who went too far. Still though, girls in my gym class always thought I wanted to fuck them whenever I breathed in their direction." She snorted, rolling her eyes. "It was so annoying... and honestly creepy. What's with homophobes thinking they're so hot?"

"Ugh, I know! That happened to me, too!" Pearl said, giggling. "It was plain ridiculous, honestly. The fact that I already had a girlfriend wasn't enough for them to believe I wasn't interested, I guess." Pearl shrugged, putting the tray of brownies in the fridge. She wasn’t sure where Jasper would prefer she put them, but she didn’t want to take up too much space on the counter. After that, she grabbed a wet wash cloth from the sink and began to wipe off the counter.

"Aww, look at you, cleaning up the kitchen like a good house guest." Amethyst teased. She peered into the sink, noticing it was empty. “You even washed the dishes already, dang.”

“Of course! I wouldn’t want to leave everything a mess.” Pearl said.

As Amethyst watched her, she tapped her fingers on the table for a few moments before speaking again. "So, what are you planning to do today?"

"Probably just... Focus on relaxing, I guess. And cleaning. Not that your house is messy, it’s very nice, it just – it distracts me from worrying." Pearl blushed, hoping that didn’t come off the wrong way. "After that, I might do some reading, and maybe even some job searching online if I get the chance."

"Pfft, that sounds kinda lame." Amethyst said. "You wanna hang out with me and some friends instead?"

"Oh, certainly not today. I don't think I would do well with a crowd... I'm still adjusting, I suppose." Pearl said, shyly wringing her hands. "But I appreciate the offer. Maybe another time we could work something out."

"Alriiiight." Amethyst said, as if she didn't fully believe Pearl's response. "But if you change your mind, just lemme know. I'll be up in my room now." she continued, going up the stairs.

"I'll certainly let you know if I do!" Pearl responded, but she had no intention of doing so. Amethyst seemed nice -- although a bit nosy at times, but with good intentions -- but it had been a little over a decade since she'd done anything close to "going out". If she were to ever consider doing something like that, it would have to be long after she'd adjusted to her new environment... 

[decimadragonoid]

* Let's read a story. * Yaaaay! Story time! ======== (EDIT, 12/4: Grammatical fixes to the contract were made.) ======== You've always known the world was a messed up place, especially considering the crime rate had recently skyrocketed in this city. And it surely doesn't help that the police are being overrun with thieves, thugs, and assaulters. You just walked into a nightmare with no hint of escape, almost comparably the same as when Alice stumbled into Wonderland and had no idea what she gotten into. Your life continues to flash before your eyes as you run into a seemingly abandoned apartment complex. No voices can be heard from the inside. Either that, or the heavy rain was somehow muffling any other source of human sounds and cues. You figure you have a second or two to breathe, but as you try to ponder on the idea of what to do next... 'There they are! They're headin' into that building!' a voice could be heard from the alleyway close by. A trio of thugs you barely managed to trick off your tail quickly find you about to run inside the complex. One of the thugs direct a bullet from his pistol at you, but due to the distance between you and the group, the bullet barely makes it to graze you. You run inside the complex and don't bother to pay attention to the condition of the inside; the green-lime wallpapers had seen better days and tore apart at the seams, the cracked lightbulbs continuously flicker on and off, dangling for dear life, some doors are unhinged, rusted, and battered like there were endless streams of commotions occurring in each unit, and yet the supports and insulation are luckily stable despite their terrible condition. From what you're gathering so far, the abandoned complex you ran into consists of three floors, but with the state of the rooms, you can't seem to find a half-decent hiding spot. 'Stop running, you little shit!' one of the thugs angrily yelled across the hall. You made it to the stairs. However, given the condition of the stairs, you feel as though they could break down any minute now. You don't care anyway and take two steps per one lift of your legs without taking into account that one or two steps collapsed behind your back. Although it managed to slow down the thugs for enough time for you to get away to the third floor, you still feel unsafe. It comes to a point where you just take cover in a nearby unit where the door was left slightly ajar. You don't bother to take a look around the room and take cover behind one of the couches. The couch you hid behind was next to a broken window pane where droplets of rain and tempestuous gusts trickled their way past the gaping hole through the glass. Just as the lightbulbs in the preceding floors did, the bulbs above continue to flicker on and off, even to the point of sparks flying. You try to keep quiet for a few minutes until the thugs decide to give up and leave. But unfortunately, their presence lingers behind your back as they split up to search the perimeter. 'Scope the place.' the leader ordered, 'They couldna gone too far.' 'Bitch, lookin' fer one kid in this fucked up place is like friggin' findin' a needle in a haystack.' 'Shut the fuck up and keep lookin' before I beat yo' ass!' The leader was livid, red in the face like someone who was about to blow steam after regretfully taking a bet to eat an entire habanero chili pepper in one bite. 'Fuckin' little shit, thinkin' you could get away with pullin' our fuckin' leg, skippin' y'ur debts...! Can't let 'cha play me no more.' Suddenly, a shot from nowhere could be heard. The acrid scent of a shot bullet permeates the room, particularly in your direction - east corner where the broken window pane is. The boss is down permanently. 'Boss??' one of the thugs look behind him and see his leader drowning in a pool of his own blood. 'BOSS!!!' 'Hey! Who the fuck did that?!' 'Wassup, gentlemen?' a wisecracking voice sounds from the west corner of the room, 'Ya got an appointment with me?' 'No way... That voice!' 'Breakin' into my crib unannounced ain't very nice, y'know, especially since I don't play that shit with burglars like you.' Before the last two thugs can make out who the shooter was, their lives flash for one last time as they fall to the ground, their foreheads transfixed by two bullets. The acrid scent of gunshots still won't go away, but you're slightly relieved that the trio won't bother you anymore. However, there's still that unknown shooter to deal with. You hope he hasn't noticed you yet, and that he'll leave to scope the place out for any stragglers affiliated with the thugs who chased you in here. However, no footsteps can be heard. Even more so, your slight moment of relief has ended. 'That's about 93 confirmed kills.' the voice calls, and then a small silence fills the room. 'And, uh... you?' the voice calls again. You tense up almost immediately and barely make it to utter a sound of confirmation, 'Y-yeah?' 'Yeah, you. Get over here.' the wisecracking voice beckons. You can barely get your legs to move, but somehow you're able to get past your temporary paralysis and stand up from behind the couch next to the broken window pane. You try to slide your left leg in the direction of the door, but the voice apparently quickly takes notice. 'Up-up-up-up-up-up-up. Not left, Jackie Robinson. Straight. This ain't Brooklyn. Y'get me? S-T-R-A-I-G-H-T. Straight.' You don't know whether the voice is trying to beckon or prank you, but you decide to cooperate with the supposed wisecracking individual for now and walk straight to the table. Surprisingly, despite the dim lighting, electric sparks, and torn wallpapers, you can see a firm desk in the west corner of the room, which is ironically nicely kept. Not only that, but the knick-knacks, collectibles and papers are neatly organized. You notice a pencil holder with several mechanical pencils, two broken Ticonderoga pencils and an indigo-colored Gameboy Color with a Pokémon Crystal cartridge inside. The porcelain coffee mug with the crossed-out text '#1 Daddy' replaced with 'Killa' is still mostly full. You also find a Pikachu Nendoroid figure standing on top of a Master Ball, both of which were kept properly and showed no signs of wear or tear. Sitting behind the table on a black leather rolling chair is an interestingly built man wearing a fedora with two small decorative feathers wrapped behind a bow ribbon colored similarly to the German flag. He wears a harness behind his back holding two dual Japanese katanas with black hilts, both of which are carefully wrapped behind his black trenchcoat, charcoal-colored vest, light gray wool sweater, black turtleneck, and cashmere plaid scarf. The wraps from his trenchcoat dangle across the table. Below the thick brown workbench table, you notice a utility belt with a buckle colored like his red spandex mask with the black and white eye meshes, probably wrapped around his coat and vest to keep the bottoms of his sweaters from peeking out and covering his red spandex tights and knee-high motorcycle boots. 'Got an appointment with me or somethin'?' the man asks. 'N-no...' you reply, 'I was just trying to get away from those three men you shot.' 'They got a beef with ya?' 'Just some debt I could never hope to pay off.' 'What, from these lowlives? They always come traipsin' around this place. You just brought along the last of 'em.' You feel like this man isn't as bad as you previously made him out to be, but you decide you really have to go back home now. 'Well, thanks for helping me. But I should really get going now.' you say to the masked man. You stand back up and head out the door, but before you can reach the hallway, the masked man takes on a more serious tone of expression. 'What? So that's it?' he says in a colder tone, 'I come to your rescue, and you're already leaving? You just walked right into the lion's den, thinkin' you could leave just like that?' The air intensifies as you watch the man lift up a Wild West revolver in his right hand, three shots still ready and waiting to protrude through human flesh. And knowing the current situation, you might be next. 'Y'know, people usually piss their pants when they see a man in sexy red tights and a trenchcoat. Once they get a look at me, the guns, and my swords, they know shit's gonna get real, fast.' he continues, 'Matter of fact, I got about 87 reasons to slice you up and fill ya with holes. Who knows? Maybe my kill count will reach 180.' You try to aim for the door, but your body is frozen solid with fear. Now, a sense of dread and hopelessness encompasses you as you finally give up and think of one final thought, 'If it's gonna happen, just do it.' As you finish your thought, you shut your eyes and wait for the man to pull the trigger. A fourth shot echoes throughout the room. But strangely, you don't feel any impact from the revolver. You slightly open your eyes to find that the man didn't shoot the fourth bullet at all, but rather made a realistic gunshot sound similar to how Tarzan pointed a shotgun at Clayton and made a perfect gunshot sound before throwing it away. But why? Why didn't he shoot you for intruding his space? A small chuckle slips from the man's mask as he bursts out laughing. 'Pffffttt...!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! What, didja seriously think I was gonna go all bam-bam on your ass??!' he laughs and snorts, 'Aww, man! You shoulda seen the look on your face!' You get the feeling this wisecracking masked man is a nutcase, but he doesn't bear any ill will toward you. 'But... why? Is this some kinda--' 'Ehh, don't sweat it, kid! Trust me, I know every face on these streets. Danger lurks around every corner and the police doesn't do jackshit to keep things in order. They half-ass it 100% of the time.' 'W-well... Just who are you anyway?' you blurt out in the heat of the moment. 'Hehehe... Well, if ya really wanna know...' he directs his left hand towards the seat you just stood up from to get ready to leave. 'Sit down. Take a load-off.' You decide to stay for a bit longer to hear the masked man's story. Everything continues to happen all at once like a bad acid trip. 'Name's Deadpool. Detective. Deadpool...' he says, 'Or, if you prefer... just Deadpool will do.' The masked man introduces himself as Deadpool and proceeds to give a small introductory speech. 'Like I said, the police half-ass their job dealin' with crime and all that shit, so I'm the one who deals with bad guys who slip under their radar.' 'So wait... You're, like... a mercenary?' you ask Deadpool curiously. 'Part merc, part detective.' Deadpool replies, 'I'm what you call "The Merc with a Mouth."' Suddenly, it hits you. You've heard of this nickname before. A lot of kids at your school often tell stories about how they spotted the 'Merc with a Mouth' on the streets running after criminals and killing them in the shadows. 'So... you mean to say--' you begin your thought, which Deadpool quickly ceases. 'Ah-de-de-de-de-de-de-de-de-de-de.' Deadpool quickly stops you from finishing your next question, 'Lemme stop you right there, kid. I ain't a hero.' The way he shushed you mid-question gives you the impression that he's a good mind reader. You decide to carry on with your next thought. 'But... y-you protected me, didn't you?' 'True. But the bottom line is, I’m a bad guy myself. A vigilante would be the politically correct term. And frankly, you shouldn’t trust a word I say.' Deadpool states realistically. But as much of a realist he was, the next comment he was about to make was about to bathe him in a less dim light than most villains in reality and fiction these days, 'But... let's just say there's a loophole of sorts. I think we can understand each other when I say, I’m just a bad guy who fucks up worse guys.' 'However...' He quickly smacks his lips, hidden inside the red matte texture of his mask, 'We ain’t got time to mince words. It’d be stupid to bore you with a friggin’ long ass backstory. That ain’t the reason you’re here. By that look on your face, you’ve seen a whole lotta shit you can’t un-see. And honestly, to think you of all people just found me by chance... I’m actually kinda flattered.' After finishing his last sentence, Deadpool grabs a shoddily-made paper plaque drawn in crayon, which reads 'The Badass Sexy Motherf#king Private Detective Out for Blood and Guts, P.D. Deadpool.' He also grabs a piece of paper, neatly places it on his desk and turns it towards you to read carefully. It looks to be a contract of sorts, stating the benefits of his services, as well as his boundaries. You read the contract carefully while Deadpool eyes you mischievously. The contract reads... 'Upon feasting your eyes on the sexy and immortal merc with a mouth, you understand that he will not take any responsibility for any vigilante activity he might cause while on the case. Who needs the fuzz anyway when you got swords, guns, and combo moves like Ryu from Street Fighter? And you wonder why the man standing before you didn't make it into Super Smash Bros... He would've ran up to Daddy Sakurai's door pleading with tears flowing down his red spandex mask until he at least made a Mii outfit for him rather than giving him an original moveset.' 'By signing this short and sweet contract, you recognize that this world is f#ked up and needs to be turned the hell upside down. Whatever trouble ails you in this town, the all-seeing eyes of the merc will see to it that the worse guys suffer greatly, for their judgment is nigh.' 

  You can't tell if there was a small grammatical mistake or two in the contract, but overall, it looks professional. You don't know what to think. You've always tried to stay out of trouble ever since leaving home to pursue a better life in the city, but things have obviously gone south long before you set foot on the merc's turf. Although, part of yourself feels like you could use an extra set of eyes. Perhaps a little help from the shadows is exactly what you need. And so, you decide to discuss with Deadpool the dangers that have creeped up on your back. And no one else will know but the two of you. 'So, kid... What can your good ol’ pal Deadpool do for you today?' ======== * Nice! Beautiful. Maximum effort. Seltzer water and lemon for blood. Etc. Etc. Etc. Just. Lovely! This is the potential start of a random skit and/or askbox series! This'll probably the only piece that turns out to be extremely unhinged. Or maybe not. Who knows? But I'd really like to turn these random Deadpool doodles into a skit and/or askbox series. So, if you want to give any questions or comments to the merc, feel free to leave some. I'll also flesh out some skits on occasion. Fun, fun, fun! I'm never gonna get sick of Deadpool now! First cosplay, now this! I'm so excited! ======== Deadpool © Marvel, Fabian Nicieza, Rob Litfield

[tickles-tea]

Tissue

- After a long radio silence on the fic front, I have returned with another answered prompt~ I started this a little while back, but figures I’d have a cold myself when I actually finished it haha Anyway, This fic was written with lots of love and mucinex so I hope you like it!

- As always, this is a tickle fic, just in case that’s not your cup of tea!

The great Izaya Orihara had fallen.

To a cold, that is.

After slithering around the city on a snowy night for a few hours too long, Izaya was left stuffy nosed and sneezing every ten seconds. He felt freezing even underneath the warmth of the most lavish comforters and no amount of pain medication relieved the constant headache throbbing at his temples. Simply put, it was hell. It hadn’t started out this bad though, and some people would ridiculously claim that it was Izaya’s fault that it’d gotten his bad. Well, maybe ‘people’ wasn’t the right word for the man currently blowing on a bowl of homemade chicken noodle soup.

“If I turn around and see you at that goddamn desk, ‘m gonna kick your ass,” Shizuo said gruffly, setting the steaming bowl back on the kitchen counter. He was careful in his movements, not eager to listen to Izaya yap about how delicate his stupidly expensive dishes were. It was annoying enough having to drag him away from his countless computer monitors every time Izaya managed to sneak out of the bedroom.

This time would just be one of many.

Shizuo turned to see Izaya frozen still with a hand still outreached for his desk chair. He’d look like a child caught sneaking cookies from the jar if there was even the slightest ounce of shame on his face and not that victorious little smile he wore whenever he thought he was getting away with something.

“It’s not nice to threaten people, Shizu-chan~ Especially people who are sick,” Izaya chirped back, voice a little nasally and croaky from his frequent coughing fits. Paying no mind to the penetrating glare being sent his way, Izaya sat in his chair and happily powered up his laptop.

“Being sick isn’t stopping you from being a pain in the ass, so I don’t see why it should stop me from punching you in the face.” Shizuo growled as he did his best to not hurl the soup at the flea’s flushed red nose like it was a goddamn bullseye. Fortunately-or not-he was able to bring the soup over to the desk without giving Izaya third degree burns on the way. “Eat.” Shizuo’s tone left no room for argument.

But this was Izaya, so of course he found room anyway.

With his typical goading drawl, Izaya turned his nose up at Shizuo’s offering. “I’m not hungry~” As if that wasn't enough of a clear rejection, he went as far as resting his chin on his hand and turning his face away as if the soup wasn’t even worth looking at. It made Shizuo reconsider emptying the bowl onto Izaya’s stupidly pretty face.

Shizuo closed his eyes and took a deep breath before letting it out again. Celty had taught him some breathing exercises to help him calm down and so far they’d been helpling when it came to little things like this. He never stopped to wonder why a woman who didn’t physically breathe knew those exercises in the first place, but he didn’t much care. “Izaya. You need to eat.”

Izaya sighed as if the interaction was grueling. “I don’t wanna.” Before Shizuo could finally burst a blood vessel, Izaya leaned back in his chair and rubbed at his forehead. The petty frown on his face vanished, revealing the exhaustion he must have been hiding. “If you really want to help me, I need-“ His words cut short as his eyes suddenly widened and he curled in on himself. His shoulders shook like he was heaving, but his lips were pursed in a grimace.

All anger forgotten, Shizuo rushed to Izaya’s side and crouched down to try to get a better look at his face. “Izaya?! What’s wrong?” His heart raced and worry bloomed bright in his chest. Was he choking? Shizuo didn’t know what he could be choking on though. It’s not like he’d eaten any of the fucking soup. “Shit. I-I’m calling Shinra,” he stammered, frantically patting his pockets to find his phone.

Izaya’s head snapped up then, and he looked into his boyfriend’s panicked eyes before sneezing once. Directly into Shizuo’s face.

“Ah. As I was saying, I need to sneeze~ I was going to ask for a tissue, but I guess I don’t need one now.” That wicked little smirk had found its way back to Izaya’s mouth as if it’d never left.

“Izaya.”

“Yes, Shizu-chan?”

“Five seconds.”

Izaya’s eyes narrowed as he looked at Shizuo. Shizuo’s face was eerily calm, completely devoid of the anger anyone who knew him would expect to see. And that lack of anger is what made Izaya realize ‘ah, this is bad.’

It wasn’t uncommon to see Shizuo’s handsome face contorted with rage, with fire in his eyes and a deep roar in his throat. If anything, it was more uncommon to see him not pissed off. Everyone in Ikebukuro had at least seen an irritated twitch in his brow or his teeth clenched in a painful-looking scowl. Perhaps even seen the menacing shadow in his eyes as veins bulged at his temples. But only those who sought the warm rush of adrenaline flowing through their veins and those who sought to leave the world of the living ever saw this expression.

This smooth, empty expression that told nothing of the molten wrath that Izaya knew was bubbling just beneath his skin.

Izaya and Shizuo had been-unspokenly-together for years now and had grown to understand each other in ways they never knew they could. However, all of that built up trust meant absolutely nothing when Shizuo looked at him like that. After all, it was that exact trust and understanding that made Shizuo so much more dangerous to Izaya now.

Izaya had never been scared of Shizuo. He wasn’t scared when he first met him, and he wasn’t scared now. But Izaya wasn’t stupid either.

With a speed that would put the Shinkansen to shame, Izaya shot up out of his chair and bolted for the staircase. And maybe Izaya’s cold was affecting him more than he would have liked to admit, because even though Shizuo was simply walking after him, his heart was pounding against his rib cage like a goddamn drum. Shizuo, the stupid brute, had even stood motionless for the promised five seconds before he’d even turned to follow him. That uncharacteristic patience only put Izaya more on edge.

*‘Damn it! I should have gone for the elevator,’* Izaya cursed inwardly as he scrambled his way into their bedroom and locked the door behind him. As if it’d do anything to hinder Shizuo’s steady approach. Shizuo had been blocking the path at the time, but seeing how the locked door knob still capitulated to Shizuo’s strength, Izaya knew that he should have taken the chance.

Shizuo stood in the doorway, expression still frustratingly neutral, while Izaya desperately looked for an escape route. The only options were fighting his way past Shizuo or vaulting himself out of the window and plummeting to the dirty Shinjuku streets below.

Izaya didn’t want to die, but the way Shizuo raised his hands, fingers curled in those dreadful claws, made him actually consider the latter option, if only for a second, before he accepted his fate.

_______________

“Nahahaha!”

The fall from the window would’ve been better than this.

“Aaaah! Not thahahat!”

Izaya was currently pinned to the bed, cackling helplessly as Shizuo spidered his fingers up and down his rib cage with a passion that was usually reserved for throwing street signs across the city like spears. In addition to that fervor, Shizuo’s expression had finally given way to emotion.

“Iiiiizayaaa~ Did’ya really think you’d be able to do that and get away with it?” Shizuo asked, a ferocious grin curling his lips. “What if I get sick now, huh?!”

In those unspoken years that they’d been together, Shizuo had grown to understand why Izaya did what he did. Though, that didn’t make Izaya’s bullshit any less annoying or Shizuo’s anger any less intense. But he couldn’t exactly beat the shit out of Izaya everyday either… It had been through a random stroke of luck that Shizuo had discovered a new way to take out his frustration and punish the flea at the same time.

“Y-yahahaha! You know you won’t, you m-monster! Ahaha!” Izaya shrieked and shook his head from side to side as if it’d make it any easier to ignore the ticklish sparks shooting through his nerves. His legs were kicking erratically and rucking up the sheets. His hands were beating and shoving at Shizuo’s shoulders. Of course, all of his struggling was as pointless as pushing against a titanium wall.

Merciless fingers climbed up his ribs, each bone used as nothing more than a step stool to get to their main destination. The ascent was nothing short of torturous for Izaya, who was squirming frantically and giggling up a storm. “Ahaha no! D-dohohon’t! Nahahaa!”

Izaya shrieked.

Shizuo was prodding at that absolutely horrible spot right between his underarms and upper ribs and using just enough pressure to make Izaya want to crawl out of his skin. “Shihihit! No! St-stahahahap! Shizu-chan!” His voice cracked on the high pitched squeak of Shizuo’s name - or rather, nickname. There were tears pricking at the corner of Izaya’s eyes now, brought on by the hysterical laughter Shizuo was pulling from him so effortlessly. To say that it was embarrassing would be an understatement. The fact that he could be reduced to a mass of flailing limbs within seconds was absolutely mortifying, and that smug smirk Shizuo wore did nothing to deter the heat that was swiftly rising to Izaya’s cheeks.

“Oi, Izaya, you’re looking a little red there. Maybe you have a fever,” Shizuo taunted, greatly enjoying his revenge. He didn’t want to push his partner too far though. He was sick, after all, but the little shit deserved at least this much. “If you hadn’t been such a brat and had just stayed in bed, it wouldn't have gotten this bad, y’know.” He punctuated his words by shooting his hands down to pinch at the bony hips that had been twisting from side to side from the moment Izaya had been pinned.

Izaya’s face promptly turned a shade of crimson that was almost concerning. Especially paired with the unholy sounds that were now spilling from his lips.

“Ahhhhh! No, no, nahahaha!” A manic smile stretched across his lips, and his teary eyes finally clenched shut from the force of his laughter. “Ahahaha please, please, Shizu-chan! Nohohot thehehere! Fahaha!” As adorable as Izaya looked-squirming and squeaking and laughing his head off-Shizuo knew he was at his limit. Those cute snickers were a little too breathless and coughs were beginning to wrack Izaya’s shoulders. Shizuo’s anger had mostly subsided, so he figured now was a good time to stop.

It seemed like Izaya agreed, as he gratefully gulped in air as soon as Shizuo pulled his hands away. Shizuo looked down at him with an amused huff. Izaya was panting like he had just run a mile, and there was still a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. But mostly, he just looked exhausted.

Shizuo gave him a smile, much softer than the one he’d offered right before he started tickling the man to tears. “You ready to rest now, flea?”

Auburn eyes fluttered open to glance up at Shizuo for a moment before they closed again. “Yeah, I think so,” Izaya sighed with a tired nod.” Shizuo had a second to bask in the feeling of victory and had started thinking about bringing the bowl of soup up when Izaya spoke again. “Hey, Shizu-chan?”

“Yeah?”

“...I need a tissue.”

[unbreakablejemmasimmons]

#3 of the winter prompts.

03. i watch kids teach you how to skate because you’re a terrible skater

For such a small town, the parking lot of the Roswell Square Mall in December still managed to be a shitshow. Alex huffed out a frustrated breath as another car beat him to a parking space for the third time. Normally, he’d do all his shopping online, but he’d been too distracted, and the holiday had snuck up on him. There wasn’t time to wait for shipping.

Normally, he didn’t have many people to buy gifts for at all, he thought as he pulled into a spot in the very back corner of the parking lot. There was certainly no annual Manes family gift exchange to consider. But in early December, Liz had put her foot down. They were all too tense, working themselves too hard trying to find a way to bring Max back, and dammit, she was going to make sure they all got to experience at least a little holiday cheer in the form of a Secret Santa.

Alex had breathed a quiet sigh of relief when he’d pulled Isobel’s name out of the empty water pitcher at the Crashdown. Sure, he’d have to spend more than he’d like to satisfy her elegant tastes, but he’d dreaded choosing Michael’s name. What do you get for the alien who doesn’t want anything you have to offer? They’d managed to cobble together a friendship, but Alex wasn’t sure what he could come up with to give to Michael that didn’t feel at once too intimate and not intimate enough.

No, even difficult-to-please Isobel was definitely the safer choice.

Inside the mall, he weaved his way through crowds of frazzled moms and unaccompanied teens clutching their Orange Julius’ and Auntie Anne’s, ending up browsing housewares at Nordstrom. He finally settled on an abstract vase, figuring he could bring over flowers every now and then to fill it. Isobel’s house could use a touch of life these days.

He was on his way toward the mall entrance, Nordstrom bag in hand, when he spotted it. Spotted him, rather. 

Michael, right in the middle of the temporary ice rink set up next to the food court. Michael, with ice skates strapped to his feet. Michael, gesticulating wildly with both hands for balance before falling hilariously, beautifully, on his ass.

Alex couldn’t stop being drawn to him if he tried.

He approached the edge of the rink, setting down his bag and leaning both elbows on the plastic barrier that separated the ice from the mall’s tile floor, and he watched.

“Told you I’m no good at this,” Michael groused, slipping backward and forward a bit as he heaved himself to his feet. At first, Alex wasn’t sure who he was talking to, until a kid who couldn’t be older than 13 skated around Michael in a perfect arc.

“That’s ‘cause your balance sucks,” the kid said, earning a glare from Michael.

“Yeah, no shit.” He grimaced. “I mean, no duh.”

The kid rolled his eyes. “You can say shit; I’m not five.” He gestured at Michael. “Try again.” 

To Alex’s surprise, Michael did as he was told, shakily turning and skating a few feet in the other direction. The kid nodded encouragingly as Michael approached the ledge on the opposite side of the rink from where Alex stood. By the time Michael got there, grasping the plastic barrier for dear life, Alex could no longer hear the conversation between the two. Still, he couldn’t tear his eyes away. 

“Weird, right?” came a voice to his left. He looked over in time to see Liz skating smoothly in his direction, coming to a stop with a little flourish as she reached him. 

Alex quirked an eyebrow. “You mean, the fact that you and Michael are here ice skating together, or the fact that he’s getting skating lessons from some random sarcastic teenager?”

Liz let out a laugh, and it was a balm to Alex’s heart. It had been a rare sound lately, and while her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, it was still a welcome sight. 

“He wouldn’t listen to me at all, but this snarky kid started teasing him and I think it hurt his pride. He had to let him show him a few moves.”

“And you two are… what, practicing your ice dancing routine for the next winter Olympics?” He frowned, unable to resist scanning the rink to see who else might be there with them. “Is, uh–”

Liz leaned on the barrier across from him, catching his eye. “Maria and Michael broke up,” she said softly, as if she was the one who was psychic. “It was for the best, for all parties involved. But now he can’t exactly head over to the WIld Pony after we finish up in the lab every night, and I’d rather him not drink himself sick alone in his trailer. Not when he’s been doing so much better lately. So I’ve been brainstorming some non-whiskey-or-acetone-related ways to help him blow off steam.” 

“Like ice skating,” Alex said, proud of how normal his voice sounded even as he processed so much new information. 

Liz nodded. “Last night Rosa got him to make Christmas ornaments with her. Little green alien heads wearing Santa hats and UFOs pulled by reindeer. Tonight, I thought we’d try ice skating.”

They both looked over in time to see Michael sprawled spectacularly across the ice, a scowl on his face. The kid giggled, but still held out a hand to help him up. 

“As you can see, it’s going about as well as could be expected,” Liz said. 

Across the ice, Michael had pulled himself to his feet with the kid’s help, and rubbed one hand idly over his hip as if it had broken his fall. Then he looked over and met Alex’s gaze. Alex could see him exhale sharply, then mutter something to the kid. The kid gave Alex an appraising glance, then shrugged, grasping Michael’s elbow with both hands and helping guide him across the rink. 

“Who’s your chauffeur, Mikey?” Liz asked with a laugh as they approached. Alex felt thrown off balance by the dichotomy of Michael’s jerky, inexpert skating and the way he still managed to look like every one of Alex’s dreams come to life, but he tried to muster a chuckle anyway. 

“This is…” Michael began, just a few feet away.

“Curtis,” the kid spoke up. Then, to Liz: “You should get your friend some skating lessons for Christmas.” 

She laughed again. “What do you charge?” 

Curtis cocked his head to the side. “You couldn’t afford me. See ya!” He darted off across the ice, leaving the three of them in a close huddle at the edge of the rink. 

“Alex,” Michael said, sounding a little out of breath. Alex presumed it was from the effort exerted trying to stay upright on skates. 

“Hey.” 

“I was just filling in Alex on you and Rosa’s arts and crafts nights,” Liz said. “Did she say popcorn garland or cut-out snowflakes was next?” 

“I think she said we’re going to make a candy Nativity scene,” he answered without looking away from Alex. “Gummi Bears as the wise men and a little jellybean Jesus.”

“Couldn’t you use your powers to balance?” Alex asked, keeping his voice low.

“Liz has got me on a tight leash these days.”

She rolled her eyes, then explained, “We’re experimenting with the strength of his powers, and as a control, I asked him to refrain from using them outside of the lab for a few days.” 

“And I’m gonna have the bruises on my ass to prove it.” 

The last thing Alex needed was to think about Michael’s ass, and he looked over his shoulder at the crowded mall before turning back to the two of them. “Well, I should probably–”

“Hot chocolate,” Michael blurted out. Alex raised his eyebrows, and Liz just looked back and forth between them. “It’s just– Liz also has me on this no drinking thing–”

“Hey, you said–”

He waved her away, still looking hopefully at Alex. “But they have a little cafe with hot chocolate over there, and I could really use one after falling all over the ice. It’s pretty cold out there.” 

Alex’s gaze flicked over to the cafe Michael mentioned, just a few little faux wrought-iron tables in a cluster on the other side of the rink. 

“You thirsty?” Michael asked, and Alex swallowed. “I just thought– maybe we could, you know, talk.” 

“Um.” Alex clutched the Nordstrom bag tighter in his grip and licked his lips. Talking had never been their strong suit, but Alex had meant it when he said he wasn’t walking away again. Not when Michael was finally ready for a conversation. He inhaled, then nodded, a muscle in his jaw twitching. “Actually, I’m parched.” 

“Good. Great. I’ll just, ah, return these skates–”

“Take them off here and give them to me,” Liz said, gesturing to his feet. “I mean it; you’re a hazard to everyone on the ice. You two go, enjoy your hot chocolate.” Her expression brooked no arguments. 

As they sat down across from each other minutes later, a hot chocolate topped with whipped cream in front of each of them, their knees brushed beneath the table, and neither one of them moved away. Alex took a steamy sip, and thought maybe the mall at Christmastime wasn’t so bad, after all.