#tiger pacing their cage moment

[starry-bi-sky]

Danielle and Danyal's meeting... very, very quickly goes very sour from, basically, the moment Danny steps into his room and finds Ellie sitting on his bed (strike one) and reading the comic books Tucker introduced him to (strike two). By the time she's looked up to address him, Danny has the door locked, and a hand hovering near the knife hidden under his shirt.

She gets her third strike when Danny, in a voice that could make the mountains tremble, demands to know how she got into his room, and she lies (with uncertainty of her decision growing in her chest) that Jazz let her in. Danny's hand shifts closer to his weapon, and he turns towards her fully, and says that Jazz would never let someone he didn’t know into his room, and who was she.

(Vlad Masters had underprepared Danielle for her meeting with Danny -- not out of any completely direct malicious intent, but he failed to mention just how... 'touchy' Daniel could be -- he failed to mention the scars littering up his arms, unhidden by the hoodie tee he meets Ellie in. He failed to mention that along with those scars, that Danny was visibly lean, capable of doing very real damage without the use of his powers.)

(He tells Ellie that he’s adopted, and that he is observant and clever, but ungrateful and has a bad attitude.)

Her final strike occurs when Ellie, trying to keep her facade of cheeriness, tells him that she’s his third cousin once removed. Immediately, Danny has his dagger pulled out, and Ellie finds herself with the cold metal of a blade pressing against her throat.

Danyal 'A.G' Fenton hasn’t killed since he arrived in Amity Park. At first it was because mother told him to keep a low profile, and killing would do the opposite of that. But, he's been slowly learning from his sister and friends over the years the value of human life. So it's become a combination of keeping his head down, and also that life has value to it.

But. That doesn’t mean he can’t kill, nor is he opposed to doing it if the situation calls for it. It just means that he doesn't do it. And ‘Danielle’ is an unknown in his room, claiming to be family to him, and appearing uncannily similar to him and his family. Either someone hired her and she was trying to pass herself off as a relative to him because that someone realized Danny was the biggest threat, or, his false death has been compromised, his mother was unable to tell him, and the league was aware he was alive.

No matter how he looks at it, this Danielle was a threat to him, his sister, his friends, to Damian, and to the Drs. Fenton. Danyal Fenton doesn't kill, but he has no problems doing so.

(Ellie, pinned under Danny’s knee and the blade to her neck, is too terrified to think of phasing out of his hold. Not that it would help, he would just chase after her.)

“You have broken into my home, dared to lie to my face, and when I demanded to know the truth, you dared lie to me again." Danny's scowl could cower even Skulker, his glacier blue eyes burning. "Your continual breath has been a favor from me, that I have graciously allowed, from the moment you entered my room, dahkil."

"So I will ask one more time," he hisses, "who. are. you."

Danielle, only a few months old, unprepared for the ice storm that is "Daniel" Fenton, and his clone in only flesh and blood, and not memories, immediately breaks. And tells him that she was his clone, that Vlad sent her to come capture him, and to please not kill her.

Danny's face twists with anger, Ellie thinks he's going to kill her anyways. Instead, he withdraws his knife and gets off her, stringing out curses in Arabic as he sheathes his weapon back into its hiding place faster than Ellie can blink.

He switches to English as she is collecting her bearings (and contemplating fleeing), and Danny paces the room like a tiger in a cage. "--of course that wretched, arrogant, peacocking little ingrate would do something so infuriating. I should have driven my sword into the shrivel of his heart when I had the chance--"

Ellie, for a moment, thinks of leaving while he is distracted. And starts to slowly creep away. But Danny notices instantly, and whirls on her. His too-bright eyes bore into her head: "Where do you think you're going."

"...I'm leaving."

And Danny scoffs at her, "Why? So you can fly back to Masters and tell him that you failed to capture me, and that I know that he cloned me?" He says, and Ellie remains silent -- that's exactly what she was going to do. "He will destroy you within seconds."

Of course, Ellie rears back in offense, and she finds the footing to glare at him. "He would not! He's my dad, he loves me!"

Danny gets in her face, glowering back with an equal intensity. "He does not." He snaps, "Vlad Masters has not a soul in his body nor a heart in his chest. He would sooner cut off the hand that helps him stand, than to take it along with him."

"If you're really made of my blood, then I will teach you only this: we bow not our heads nor our hearts to anyone." Danny's too-blue eyes narrow, and his voice dips into a hiss, "Especially not to a conniving snake like Masters. Your heart: cut it off, or cut it out. He will sooner leave you to bleed."

Then, he unlocks the door and drags her out before she has much time to act. And as he drags her down the hall he shoots Sam and Tucker a text, and they meet up at Nasty Burger. Ellie is a spitfire, but Danny has her too intimidated to leave.

"This is Danielle," he tells them bluntly as he corners her into the booth, "she's my clone. Masters created her."

Ellie is with them for a week, and somehow throughout that time, Danny manages to actually get her to like him throughout that time. He's callous, blunt, and full of sharp edges that you can cut yourself on. But when he's not spitting venom, he's fretting.

When he drags her back to the house after being with Sam and Tucker, he pulls her to Jazz's room and opens the door to tell her the same thing. "This is Danielle." He says upon abruptly opening the door, interrupting Jazz's studying as he pulls Ellie inside. "She is my clone, Masters created her. She needs clothes."

Then he turns and leaves, shutting the door behind him. Ellie, in that moment, thinks that now's her chance to flee. But Jazz then squeals, and she is trapped in new arms, shaken around by Jazz Fenton, excited for a sister.

(Ellie finds herself complaining to Jazz that night, shoved into old pajamas. She's in utter disbelief that Jazz could care about a jerk like Danny.)

("He's rough around the edges, but Danny does care." Jazz tells her, combing through her hair with her fingers. "We've been working on it ever since he joined the family, but Danny warms up slowly. He's usually less stoney; I think your arrival spooked him.")

("Spooked him?" Ellie repeats, she doesn't believe it at all. "He has a funny way of showing it, he threatened to kill me!" And she turns around just in time to see Jazz's press her lips into a line.)

("He's... very protective. He'll deny if you ask him, but he worries a lot." Jazz's fingers find her hair again. "What I do know for certain though, is that he wouldn't have kept you here if he wasn't worried about you at least a little bit.")

(Ellie doubts it.)

But Ellie is indeed there for a week, and the day after her initially rocky introduction with Danny, he is a little bit kinder to her. Still kinda a bitch, but he's less harsh to her, if... almost uncomfortable around her. Flighty, kinda.

Whenever she gets mouthy at him though, he looks oddly smug about it and, infuriatingly enough, praises her attitude. He is very, very annoying. And still kinda terrifying. But hearing him shout insults via puns at someone during a ghost fight that happens that week lessens the intimidating factor,,, a little bit.

Things go about,,,, relatively,,,, similar to canon. In the sense that it ends with Ellie defecting from Vlad because she finds out that Danny was right and that Vlad didn't actually care about her. (And that Jazz had been right too; Danny, in his weird, mean way, had been worried about her as well)

Danny looks out of his depth as she talks about how he was right, and he cuts her off with a vaguely uncomfortable clearing of his throat. And gives her the most awkward, but genuine apology he can muster.

"I should've used more tact when telling you about Masters, and I... apologize for threatening you when we met. I was..." he makes a face like he's sucked on a particularly sour lemon, "worried. First about my family, and then later about you."

(Ellie will be damned: Jazz was right)

Before Ellie leaves, Danny puts a hand on her shoulder and tells her: "I wasn't kidding about what I said to you when we first met: you are of my blood, and as such, you do not bow your head nor your heart to anyone."

Ellie looks at him, thinks about the last week, and smiles like she's caught him in a trap. "What about Sam and Tucker then? And Jazz?"

Danny smiles, it's awkward and tilted, like his face isn't used to the gesture. "We bow not our hearts, but that doesn't mean we can't share."

[ink-n-shadow]

Hi, do you write smut? If so, please listen to me 🫣

Just Ghost away from reader for more than a week, and he misses her very much, so he calls her. In the middle of the conversation, she can hear moans and sighs coming from him and the rest you already know👀

using translator again :^

Btw can i be anon - 🫀? (Idk how to ask💀)

another anon added to my list <3 thank you for the request ;-;

[ I KNOW WHAT YOU'RE DOING ] 𝜗𝜚 the one where simon calls you on deployment and he's lonely

𝜗𝜚 pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader 𝜗𝜚 cw: smut (minors—DNI), phone sex, simon doesn't tell fem!reader what he's doing at first, mutual masturbation, mentions of unprotected sex (pls wrap it up guys), sweet!simon 𝜗𝜚 note: this is so unedited and i'm half-asleep so pls don't judge

eight days, thirteen hours, and forty-seven minutes. that's how long it had been since simon had left for deployment. not like you were counting.

it was only a day and six hours longer than the last time he called you. not that you were mad—you knew better than to expect simon to risk his life to simply call while in the middle of a warzone. which is why you waited, although impatiently.

so as soon as you were curled up on the couch midday, lounging with a book in your hand and glasses perched on your nose, and you saw simon's contact flicker across your vibrating phone on the coffee table, you practically pounced on it. your fingers fumbled with the call button as you brought the smart phone to your ear. "hello?"

a soft hum filled the other line, a comforting hum that sent tendrils of warmth and familiarity spreading through your gut. "hey, sweet thing." from over the phone, you could hear the crickets and cicadas surrounding simon, a cacophony of noise that was only drowned out by his gravelly rumble.

"did you make it alright?" you asked softly as you rested back against the arm of the couch, pushing your bookmark into the spine of your book and snapping it shut.

simon let out another long puff of air, taking a small moment to answer. "aye—we're fine, lovie. no need to worry that pretty little head, 'lright? now tell me what you did so far today—just wanna hear you talk for a bit."

beneath the blanketing noise of cicadas and crickets, you could hear a soft, rhythmic schlick, schlick noise—one that you knew all to well.

simon was definitely fucking his cock up into his fist.

“i know what you’re doin’.” you whispered over the phone softly, sinking deeper into the leather of your couch and pulling the knitted blanket you had draped over your lap higher. “i can hear it.”

your words forced a low groan from simon’s mouth, almost sounding like a growl with how close he was to the cellphone microphone. the rhythm of his hand slicking up and down his heated skin ramped up in tempo. “oh yeah? and what d'ya hear, sweet girl?”

everything. you could hear the way simon’s spit-soaked fingers squelched a bit around the girth of his cock. you could hear the way he twisted his wrist ever so slightly near the tip, just enough to have his hips canting up at the sensation. you could hear every pant, moan, growl that threatened to spill from his lips, to escape the cage of his mouth like a starved tiger.

"y'know you could've just told me, right?" you breathed softly into the phone, eyes fluttering closed as your brain scrambled to create an image of what simon might've looked like in that moment. " i would've started sayin' filthy things a long time ago."

"c'mon, lovie—y'know i don't last long with that dirty little fuckin' mouth of yours." simon scoffed out a pinched laugh, letting it bleed out into a soft groan as he squeezed the base of his cock to keep himself from busting then and there. "miss you. miss havin' you here with me."

it was your turn to let out a soft laugh and teasing words. "you're just saying that because your cock's throbbing right now."

simon growled at your words, the pace of his hand slicking up and down his arousal growing ever quicker, faster, needier. your filthy words were working."not true. i miss you even when m'not trying to fuckin' cum, lovie."

"i can tell you're close, si." you purred over the phone, your free hand trailing down the front of your body and hooking around the waistband of the sweatpants you were wearing. pulling them down to your mid thighs, your fingers slid into the fabric of your panties with a soft hiss. "your breathing gets all heavy. you get all growly, all loving and soft. you wanna cum, huh?"

"god." simon all but whimpers, hips stuttering slightly in their rhythm as he forced his cock up into his open palm. "y'know me so well, lovie. so. fuckin'. well—fuck, need to cum. wanna cum for you, sweetheart."

the pads of your fingers slipped and slid around your wet heat, bumbling slightly against your clit as you tried to focus solely on pushing simon over the edge. your lips curled into a devious smirk. "yeah? wish you could be here while you cum—maybe i'd let you fill me up this time. oh—yeah, you like that, huh? just wanna fuck me till i'm leaking and dripping with you, huh?"

simon couldn't even give you a warning that he was about to cum, instead just letting out a chest-ripping growl as he finally plunged over the edge. his breathing was ragged, filled with uneven potholes that caused his breath to catch in his chest.

the squelching and schlicking noise had subsided, replaced by simon regaining his composure and your soft, panted breath. you were certain you were being quiet as you stroked your wet heat with the tips of your fingers—that was until simon spoke up huskily.

“i know what you’re doin’. lovie.”

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

☠️ Something Dread, Something Red: Chapter Eleven

Something Dread, Something Red: Stuck in a proposal to a Marine Commodore, you escape minutes before your wedding in one last ditch effort to avoid getting married to a tyrant. Barely making it to the port of your town, you stumble across a ship just starting to leave and beg for passage off the island. You fail to notice that the people you beg for help, are pirates.

Warnings: Language.

To Note: “Red Haired” Shanks x FemReader

Word Count: ~2.8k

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Looking out the window of the main cabin, you chew your lip as the nervous energy that has wracked your body since learning that Shanks and the men are going ahead with their plan grows until you feel nauseous. When you woke up this morning, you hoped the weather would be fair. Your hope is misplaced. The skies are gray, the clouds heavy, and moisture fills the air in an unpleasant fog. A bad thunderstorm is coming.

The moment you catch sight of the threatening weather, you hastily pull on your dressing gown and head below deck. You rush past the storage room to the officers' room, finding the senior officers along with Shanks discussing their plans for the nearby island. Not even three steps into the room, Shanks speaks before you can get a word in edgewise.

“This isn’t negotiable, Aria,” he states, not even bothering to look up from the map he’s studying. You presume it’s the map to the nearby island the Red Force will be docking at. Your pursed lips and clear disapproval of them heading out in what is clearly going to be terrible weather don’t even phase Shanks. “It’s our business, and we aren’t going to charge in head first without a plan or thought in our heads.”

You want to argue. You want to tell them to wait another day or at least until the weather lessens its incoming nasty threat. But it isn’t your place to tell them how to run their ship or their pirating. So you merely smother your sigh and watch as they file out of the room. Of course, you watch them lower the dinghy to the water and paddle off, leaving you behind with Hongo and Limejuice for company. That leaves you to take shelter in the main cabin when the first few drops start to fall, and it only gets worse as the morning goes on. Now you’re pacing around like a caged tiger.

A knock on the door pauses you in your step.

“Yes?” you call over the tinkering of rain and gusty wind. Hongo edges himself into the room, making sure not to let any of the rain follow him before closing the door. The ship’s doctor stares at you and wonders how you haven’t managed to wear a path in the floor with your pacing. You truly do look like a caged animal.

“You’ve been pacing a hole in the floorboards, Aria,” he comments, eyeing your body language. Stress is written all over your body. Rigid posture, inability to stand still, tightness in your face, jaw clenched. “He’s not going to do anything stupid, promise.”

“I’ve read the book on treating amputations, Hongo, so do not be inclined to dismiss my worries when I have every right to be so!” Your voice rises by the end of your tirade, and you let out a frustrated noise in the back of your throat. “I am well aware that his business is his business, and I do not seek to interfere, but the current weather conditions are exactly the type to trigger a reaction!”

“He knows what to expect if anything does happen, and the men will take care of him if he needs help.” You hug your body, his words not comforting you in the slightest.

“I have a bad feeling, and it is only getting worse,” you murmur, your eyes glancing out the window to the harsh waves rocking the ship. Whitecaps are everywhere, almost drowning out the usual beautiful cerulean waters you’ve come to love.

“Come on, you need your brain occupied, and staying cooped up in this room isn’t helping anyone.” Hongo announces, reaching for Shanks’ spare rain jacket hanging on the wall and tossing it to you. You catch it and give Hongo a skeptical look.

“And how do you propose I keep my brain occupied? I’ve spent all morning trying to, and nothing has worked.” You shoot back, fingers curling around the rain jacket.

“You wanna be useful?” Hongo broaches, deciding to play dirty. Your eyes narrow. You may have been raised sheltered and naive, but you’re not stupid, and you have quickly adapted to how the crew works.

“Fine,” you softly growl, yanking on the raincoat. It dwarfs your body, and the sleeves are too long, but you can smell the faint waft of sandalwood. Blast. There really is nothing you can do, and no amount of worry is going to bring Shanks back to the ship unharmed. Nothing but Shanks can do that. “You are being pathetic, Aria,” you mutter to yourself as you follow Hongo to the door.

“You say something?” Hongo asks, looking over his shoulder at you. Shit. Oops. You clear your throat and trot to the door.

“Just musing to myself,” you reply hurriedly, slipping past Hongo and out into the storm. Hunching over to protect your face from the rain, your feet dance over the wet deck to the door to the hull. Hongo follows you as you escape the torrential rain. Pulling down the hood of the raincoat, you take it off and leave it to hang dry by the door.

“So what is it that you are going to have me do to keep my brain occupied?”

Hongo doesn’t answer, just leads you through the ship until you reach the storage room. You haven’t been in the room yet, mostly because the men are afraid something might fall on top of you and hurt you. The room isn’t anything special, and you don’t expect anything special. It’s just walls with boxes stacked and strapped down.

“Considering how OCD Benn is about inventory, I doubt it needs to be done.” You say, running your finger along the decorative rim of a rather ostentatious chest. You wonder what’s inside it, but decide that you’re probably better off not knowing.

“No,” Hongo agrees before reaching for a box high up on a shelf. He carries it over to where you stand and sets it down on top of another box before taking the lid off. “But I ordered restock supplies, and they still need counting.”

“And Benn didn’t count them?” you query in surprise.

“He’s been too busy planning and organizing today’s trip.” You understand, but surprisingly, Benn is basically a second Captain on the Red Force as the first mate. Benn likes to keep track of everything, so whatever they’re doing in this horrible weather has to be extremely important. Why else would Shanks take an unnecessary risk? Or perhaps necessary—you have no idea what the gravity of his business is.

“If it will make me stop thinking about him, I am all for it,” you say, taking the clipboard from Hongo and perching yourself on a round barrel adjacent to the box. Hongo passes over a pencil to you before leaving you to take the inventory of supplies. It’s easy to fall into a pattern of picking out individual supplies and counting them in alphabetical order, starting with adhesive bandages.

Of course, there are several different shapes, sizes, and kinds, and you hand-count each and every one of them. Twice. Not because you fear you miscounted, but because focusing on the task at hand helps distract you from the reality that your gut is screaming that something bad is going to happen. Your only solace is that Shanks isn’t alone, and the men are capable of taking care of each other.

You complete the inventory of the medical supplies for Hongo, intentionally and methodically going slow. Hours pass, and the storm hasn’t lessened its rage outside. The nausea in your belly is almost a permanent resident before Limejuice convinces you that your stomach would feel better if you eat something. So you sit in the kitchen, nibbling on a few muffins you and Lucky made the day prior (it’s a miracle there are leftovers), listening to the howl of the wind.

“He said they’d be back before sunrise,” Limejuice says, breaking the tense atmosphere. Your gaze flickers to his, and you pause in picking away at your muffin.

“Sunrise,” you repeat, almost sighing at the thought. It is far from comforting. “You do realize that means they are out in that storm overnight with who knows what on that island in the middle of the night. Gods, they might be stumbling around in the dark right now turned around ass backward!” You huff, and Limejuice nearly spits out his sip of beer.

You never curse. Ever. The men of the Red Force have done their best to curb their language when you are around, not because you are of noble birth but because you are a woman. With your upbringing, most of them figure not even a single curse would pass through your lips. Apparently, they are wrong. Limejuice chuckles because your overly formal language is usually only present when you are uncomfortable or out of place. You swearing means that you truly feel comfortable on the ship but also very worried.

“And that’s why Building Snake went with them,” he tells you, making a point that if the navigator of the ship is with them, they won’t get lost. “And the only one navigationally challenged is Bonk Punch. Good at playing music, navigation and following a map? Not so much.” That makes your lips twitch. “How about this, we’ve had dinner, and it’s dark, wet, and cold outside. Want a cup of tea? I don’t do much cooking, but I know how to brew a pot.”

“I would like that, thank you, Limejuice.” The older man smiles and gets up to fix the pot of tea for you. At this point, he and Hongo have a feeling that you aren’t going to be able to sleep, let alone entertain the idea of going to bed until the men are back. So after Limejuice fixes you a pot of tea, he leaves to get some sleep while you remain in the kitchen with a lantern. You don’t know where Hongo has gone—hopefully getting some sleep—but you aren’t sure.

Sipping your tea, you stare at the flickering light in the gas lamp on the table. Even surrounded by the sounds of harsh rain and wails of wind, you can still hear yourself think, and you hate that. Haven’t you spent the entire day thinking? The entire day worrying? You drop your head into your hand with a soft groan.

“Please just get back already,” you softly murmur, massaging your forehead. “I hate waiting.” But waiting is all you can do. Your eyes burn. You feel like nodding off. You are shivering from the coldness of the air. Getting up from the table, you grab Shanks’ raincoat and pull it back on, snuggling into the material for warmth. Just as you turn to head back to the table, you catch sight of something moving outside the window. You do a double take until you recognize the form of Gab climbing over the side of the ship.

Snatching the lantern, you rush outside, your body buffered by wind and rain. The shy pirate drops to the deck and begins prepping the plank while you tear out of the kitchen and across the deck, lantern raised.

“Gab!” you call over the wailing and rain splattering your face in sharp bites. The pirate glances over his shoulder in surprise, not expecting you to be up but at the same time not surprised that you are there. You haven’t been happy about them heading out in this weather. “Cap’n’s sick!” he calls to you, knowing that it is far better to tell you now than try to hide the truth. Your stomach drops as more of the crew appears, Yasopp and Bonk Punch carrying a few boxes while Benn supports a limp Shanks.

“What the hell happened!?” you ask, moving back as the men clamber onto the ship.

“Flare up after a fight,” Lucky Roux explains while Benn hauls Shanks onto the ship. “Weather got to him, and the phantom pains came back.” You have half a mind to yell at them but realize that yelling won’t change the current circumstances.

“Has this happened before?” you ask, eyebrows drawing together in worry while Benn drags the unconscious man toward the lower deck stairs.

“Occasionally. He just needs rest,” Benn grunts. “Just needs to sleep it off. Probably’ll get a fever, too.” You let out an exasperated screech. Shanks is practically unconscious and no doubt in pain, and they are just going to put him in a hammock!?

“Then put him in his bed!” you shout over the rain. “He needs his bed, not a hammock!!” The men freeze in place for a few precious seconds as you glare at them. Then, with an exaggerated movement, you point towards the main cabin. “Now.” Your words are obliged, and Benn switches routes from the stairs to the main cabin door, you hurrying after him.

The main cabin, while always feeling spacious, now feels crowded as Benn, Lucky Roux, and Building Snake help their captain out of his soaked clothes and into the bed you have slept in for over a month. You are too worried to be gawking at the shirtless man.

“Should we get Hongo?” you ask when they begin filing out, making it clear that they would be leaving Shanks alone. Benn shakes his head, water flying from his wet hair.

“Nothing he’ll be able to do now. Better for him to check on Shanks in the morning.” He answers, having been through many of these episodes since the incident with the sea king. “Come on, you can take his hammock. It’s clean, promise.” You cross your arms and hug your upper arms.

“I would prefer to stay,” you tell Benn, shifting your weight from foot to foot. “Not entirely sure I’ll be able to sleep, and I’d rather—I’ll feel better if I watch him, not that he needs it if this is normal for him…” Benn lingers by the door, staring at you with a look of understanding. You’d been unhappy that they had gone out with bad weather on the horizon, and not a single pirate on the ship missed out on the fact that you and Shanks have a… thing going on. It isn’t exactly his business, but Shanks isn’t discreet with his feelings, and you are still quite oblivious.

“As you wish, little lady,” Benn says before giving his captain and friend one last look. “He’ll be fine, just needs to rest and recuperate. Nothing he hasn’t had to deal with before.”

“Has anyone considered that perhaps he shouldn’t have to deal with this?” you quietly grouse to yourself, walking over to one of the chairs at the table and moving to the bedside. You peel off the soaked raincoat and drape it over the back of the chair before sitting down. Benn leaves you to keep watch, quietly shutting the door to the cabin behind him. You stare at the flushed face of the man laying in your borrowed bed. His bed. “I know it’s your business, but I do not like seeing you like this, Captain.” He doesn’t answer. Obviously.

Shanks is supposed to be strong. No. He is strong. Strong, capable, invincible. That is what he is to you. The invincible man that saved you from misery. But today has knocked you down a peg, reminding you that he is, at the end of the day, just a man. A man you have come to care very much about. A man who looks vulnerable.

You don’t know much about medicine, but you have read some of Hongo’s medical journals out of boredom. Reaching over, you place the back of your hand against his forehead and scowl. He’ll be fine. Bah! He’s already burning up! Standing up, you walk over to the clean bowl of water you had prepared to wash your face before bed, which never happened in the first place. So you grab a clean washcloth and dip it into the now cool water, squeezing out the excess. Returning to the chair, you brush away Shanks’ damp red hair from his sweltering skin and place the washcloth on his forehead.

“I have no idea if this actually helps, but it is better than nothing,” you sigh, placing your elbow on the mattress and propping your head up. “I hope you got what you came for. It would be a shame if you did all this for nothing.” He doesn’t answer; you don’t expect him to. But what he does do is shift and squirm like he’s in pain. You grab his hand and hold it tight, pressing your lips together in worry. “Next time, please wait until it is no longer raining. I don’t like this, Shanks. I don’t like this at all.”

Date Published: 2/14/24

Last Edit: 7/29/24

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[sassycheesecake]

A/N: Yakuza!Meian. That’s all I am saying.

TW: guns, cursing, violence, mentions of sex, suggestive themes, blood, death by shooting (this is a very violent OneShot ya‘ll, be warned)

"What’s on your mind?" Your gentle voice interrupts Meian‘s deep thoughts, as he is looking intensely outside his window from his penthouse, only wearing a pair of black shorts.

The ravenette turns his head around to look at you, watching as you get dressed into a discarded shirt of his from your previous steamy love session.

The colors of red and orange decorate the nude parts of your skin, your beauty highlighted by the sunset. Single bite marks are scattered around your thighs, on your left side he can see a grip mark beginning to show on your hip.

Meian admires your body for a bit before he sighs and turns around again to watch the ongoing traffic below.

"There was another incident downtown near Nagai Park. Inunaki and Barnes were on patrol and now Inunaki is badly injured. They were supposed to meet up with one of our clients but instead, the Adlers ambushed them."

You frown in concern at his words, walking closer to your lover, seeing the large Golden Jackal body tattoo that covers both of his shoulders and part of his upper back. Its body is surrounded by water, fire and lightning, looking like it’s creating the elements itself.

"How is his condition?" You wrap your arms around his waist, resting your cheek against his back, your head moving with every breath he takes.

"Critical but stable for the moment. I need you to do something for me."

Meian turns his whole body around and looks at you with determined eyes, making you retract your arms so he can place his hands gently around your face.

"Find out who exactly did this. I need a name and an address. Barnes said there were 3 of them but they all wore their eagle skull masks. You’re the best and stealthiest spy in the entire organization and I know I can trust you 100%." Meian rests his forehead against yours, a shuddering breath escaping him.

"My love, find the responsible person for this. Be careful and come back to me. I don’t know what I would do if I lost you."

You smile at his words, taking his hands off of your face so you can return the gesture to him. You lean up a bit to place a gentle kiss on his lips, a kiss which he eagerly returns.

"Give me three days, Shū. I promise, I won’t let you down." You whisper against his lips, feeling that they form into a smile.

"You never have. Just be careful please. I am counting on you my little doe."

With one last parting kiss, Meian lets you go, confident in your abilities that you will be able to find the traitor that knew about the meet up and told the Adlers about it.

Exactly three days later, you have the name and the adress and Meian’s first move is to hunt that person down and torture him for the pain that Inunaki has suffered through.

Inunaki is in a better condition now, still unconscious but according to their doctor, is getting better day by day.

When you texted him the name and address, Meian forwards the message to Tomas, Atsumu and Joffe, telling them to find and bring the person over in his office.

You’re sitting on Meian’s office desk, swinging your legs a bit, while your boyfriend paces like an angry tiger in a cage in his office, awaiting the return of his trusted members.

Pulling out your phone, you watch TikTok for a bit, when you hear shouts and rumbling noises coming from the hallway.

It seems like Meian hears it too because he immediately stops pacing and leans against his office desk, right next to you. A Glock 35 resting in his hands. You can see the popped up veins on his hand, a tight grip on his handgun, ready to shoot immediately. Jaw very tense, you’re scared that his teeth will crack under the pressure.

"Don’t shoot, Shū. I know you’re angry but listen to what he has to say first."

Meian grumbles but hands you the gun, which you take without hesitation.

You put the safety on but make sure that you have one in the chamber.

There is a knock on the door and Meian says that they can enter.

Not even a second later, the heavy wooden doors slam open and Atsumu walks in first, having blood spots on him but proud to have fulfilled his task.

Right after Atsumu walks in, Joffe and Tomas walk in, dragging in a middle aged man, who is a little bit more on the heavy side weight-wise. Neither Joffe or Tomas look hurt or injured.

The man looks pretty beaten up, most of his face unrecognizable due to all the beating he has gone through, no doubt caused by the three Jackal members. His once white blazer is almost torn to shreds and you can see multiple stab wounds bleeding through the fabric. Seems like he tried to put up a fight.

"We’re back boss an' we brought a guest with us. Found ‘im on the way ta the airport." Atsumu boasts, his eyes meeting yours for a second before moving his gaze down, knowing that he is technically not allowed to look at you.

Meian’s rules.

Joffe and Tomas shove the man down on the floor, looking equally angry as their boss.

The man falls directly in front of the ravenette’s feet, groaning in pain, trying to push himself onto his hands to get up.

He doesn’t get a chance to though, since Atsumu kicks into his side with great force, you’re sure you heard a rib or two crack. The man yells out in excruciating pain at the impact.

"Atsumu that’s enough, leave us." Meian sighs, a little bit calmer now.

"That’s for hurtin' our friend. Piece of shit." Atsumu growls but leaves the room.

Joffe and Tomas bow in respect and leave the room, closing the door behind them.

Meian takes slow steps towards the man, saying his name in a dark voice, that even you still get shivers from it every time you hear him talk like this.

"Toshiko Wantura. Did you really think you could run away from me without being caught? I have eyes and ears everywhere in this godforsaken country. Not to mention a beautiful, intelligent temptress who can find everyone, everywhere and at any time."

When Meian crouches down to look at the brown haired man, you put the safety off, in case Toshiko tries to pull something and your quick reflexes to dangerous situations are known in the entire prefecture of Osaka.

You doubt though that he would try anything, when you’re looking at the state of him, the boys surely have done some pre-work on the traitor. Surely, Atsumu did the most, since he had a lot of blood on him, probably from beating up Toshiko.

"I-I am sorry, i-it was not my intention-" Toshiko has to cough up some blood, staining the expensive gray carpet. Meian frowns in disgust at that sight and stands back up to stand next to you.

"Remind me to get a deep cleaning on the carpet." He leans to you and whispers it in your ear.

You nod with a giggle and Meian slightly smiles at the sound of it. He loves your laugh.

As soon as he looks back at the beaten down man, his warm expression changes immediately to a cold and angry one.

"I‘ll give you one chance. Why did you reveal our meeting spot to the Adlers?"

Toshiko remains silent, trembling with a mix of pain and fear. Nonetheless, he gets on his knees and looks between you and the boss of MSBY.

Without a warning, you use the Glock 35 and aim directly at his shoulder.

Meian doesn’t even flinch at the sound of the gun going off.

"OW! FUCKING HELL! YOU BITCH!" Toshiko screams in pain.

"Because you caught me on a good day, one more chance." Meian gets up again from his leaning position against the desk and walks around Toshiko like a predator, ready to charge and sink his fangs and claws into its prey.

The bleeding is enormous and rapidly staining more of his arm and shirt, you definitely hit an artery.

Holding onto his shoulder for dear life, Toshiko flinches as he holds his gunshot wound, trying to stop the bleeding.

You probably won’t have much time, the stab wounds and now the shoulder injury making the man paler by the minute.

"I-They p-promised to p-pay off all my debts… you have to understand… I-I was in so much debt from buying your stuff all the time… so they made me a deal…and I couldn’t refuse the offer… so they bought me a plane ticket so I can start a new life…" Toshiko shakes in fear.

Both you and the ravenette listened to his story, yet, if you fuck with Meian, you’re as good as dead.

"Hand me the gun, love." Meian says quietly.

You hand him the gun without question, knowing that Toshiko will see the light.

Meian walks towards Toshiko, you see him sweating bullets as he presses the gun to his head.

"Any last words?"

"P-P-Please, have mercy-" He stammers but his plead was cut off, as Meian pulls the trigger.

Toshiko falls over, the front of his body leaving a loud 'thump' as his head collides with the floor.

Blood starts to pool from him, leaving him in a huge puddle.

Meian sighs deeply, putting the safety on before turning around to look at you with his dark orbs.

"Shame. He was a good costumer until he ratted us out."

"One person isn’t going to decrease our sales, Shūgo. Also, he had it coming. Trying to run away from the yakuza? They can find you anywhere." You explain and watch as he steps closer to you.

It’s quiet for a few moments, until you speak again.

"You know, your fury and revenge for Inunaki are a huge turn-on." You say, while the ravenette cages you in, while you’re sitting on his desk, putting the gun down next to you.

"Are they now?" Meian smirks and you return a grin of your own, his pupils dilating with a hunger that you recognize in a heartbeat.

Leaning back on the desk, you scooch back a bit to fully lean back and Meian follows you, putting his hands next to your head and pressing rough kisses against your neck.

"You seriously want to fuck me while a corpse just a few feet away from us?" You giggle as his lips moved up towards your awaiting lips, a blissful sigh escapes him as soon as his lips touched yours.

"Oh please, we've done it at more… 'inconvenient' places and times. You remember how I made you scream my name on the dirty, bloody torture device table after I was done taking that one slime bag apart?" He mumbles between your lips.

"That was just last week, Shūgo." You giggle some more and Meian begins to pull your shirt up, caressing your soft skin.

"Mhm, how the year flies by." The big man says completely distracted by your scent and your sexy body.

You just lay back and enjoy, getting ravished by Shūgo Meian, yakuza boss of MSBY and a man completely enamored by his beautiful partner in crime.

@osamusriceballz @rukia-uchiha-98

[wisteriasymphony]

Pulcinelle - Fragmentation

“Victory is still within my grasp, Nathalie! I have no need for the minor miraculous! Victory is mine, victory is mine!” Gabriel shouted through his phone, tearing his atelier apart while he paced like a caged tiger. 

The man had not rested for the slightest moment since the Chinese Miracle Box had been stolen from him, and his face wore the exhaustion like a coat of warpaint. Silvery gray hair fell over his brows in the haphazard manner of a battle-torn settlement, white banners of surrender tainted with ash as his eyes burned with a conqueror’s fury. And yet, he had conquered nothing. Monarch had crowned himself king with a power he no longer possessed. 

Raising up a crumpled diagram to the air, Gabriel continued to roar and howl. “I know the frequencies of each Kwami’s power! With the traces of their energy recorded within me, I shall be able to replicate them!” The ruined king burst into a manic laughter, shaking the paper like an empty chalice as its brothers swirled across tables and laid in dead heaps on the floor. “With the immense power of Embodied Transmission, all of the minor miraculous will be recreated and under my control! Do you understand, Nathalie? I’ve won! I have won!” 

Monarch Renatus - Alliance Rings

Alliance Rings shall be constructed of an alloy (hereby designated Alliance Alloy) of 50% Silver, 39.9999% Lutetium, 10% Scandium, and 0.0001% Miraculum. Miraculum powder shall be harvested independently and combined with Lutetium before the Alliance Alloy is synthesized. Miraculum powder will display properties similar to mica, giving Alliance Rings a faint purple sparkle that may be used as a marketable feature. 

Miraculum charged Alliance Rings -> Instantaneous Akumatization -> Potent Transmission? 

“Gabriel.“ 

“All I need is to convince Tomoe of this plan, and I’ll be—“ 

“Gabriel!” Nathalie was pinching her nose so hard she was half worried she would snap it off. “You had the Rabbit Miraculous with you, the first thing you should’ve done is gone back to save Emilie. We can’t keep helping you if you can’t help yourself!” 

“This isn’t just about Emilie anymore!” 

Gabriel began to choke at the sound of his own words, letting the phone drop to the floor. All at once, the room began to spin, the papers and charts around him like a sea of parchment with an ever-shifting gravity, no up nor down. He had to grasp the edge of the table to prevent himself from collapsing and remember, remember that it was all about Emilie and it would only ever be about Emilie. He had to remember the ghost she had become, picture his love slipping away and resolve beyond all means and measure to bring her back. It was about Emilie, and ergo everything was justified, nothing was his fault! Gabriel could swear he had never been at fault!

“Yeah,” Nathalie barked back. “I can tell.” 

And so she ended the call. 

—— Hours later, in another office… ——

“Where are they?” 

Gabriel was not at all comfortable with the idea of admitting failure to Tsurugi Tomoe. “Where is what?” He stammered out, loosening his collar with a finger. 

“The collection of minor miraculous,” she repeated herself. “You said you had them.” 

“When did I ever say that? You must, uh… You must be mistaken, Tomoe.” 

“At 21:08 last night exactly, I was greeted with an email in my personal inbox. Its contents were:” 

Madam Tsurugi,

 I am pleased to inform you that I have acquired the possession of fifteen minor miraculous this evening. I feel as though this may be beneficial to our plans for the Perfect Alliance Initiative, and would like to discuss alterations to our plans in the morning. As you know, these artifacts are highly powerful (albeit not what I am currently searching for), and I believe you will know the best course of action moving forward. 

An earlier meeting later on this evening would also suit me, although I do plan on following this sudden turn of events up with a grand speech to Paris as a whole to highlight Ladybug’s catastrophic blunder. Please refrain from contacting me until after I have concluded this. 

Signed, Gabriel Agreste 

“…That must have been an automated message.” 

“Do you take me for an idiot, Agreste?” 

Gabriel swallowed hard, bringing his face into a taut closed smile that pushed his glasses further up his face. The cocktail of drugs he’d taken to restore himself was only making Tomoe’s face swim before him, her features blending into a blurry blobfish mush that he couldn’t stay still long enough to focus on. The sweat rolled down his face with the tempo of his twitching cheek. 

“I can say with utmost certainty that—“ 

“That you take me for an idiot?” 

“No!” Gabriel blurted out. “…That what transpired last night was due to circumstances beyond my control. I believe the culprit we should turn our attentions towards is my nephew, Felix.“ 

“The fourteen year old boy?” 

Gabriel swallowed again, following the action up with a quiet, nervous laughter. Of course it had to be the most ridiculous thing, for a boy less than a third Gabriel’s age to defeat him, but there was simply no other leads! Gabriel could picture that twerp now, cackling to himself as he sifted through the jewels rightfully stolen for Gabriel, crying to his mother about how innocent he was and how his uncle deserved to be robbed like this! But Gabriel Agreste would not take this slight standing down, not for a moment. Just as Tomoe had put it, Felix was but a small defenseless child. 

“…Yes.” 

“I see no reason in working with you any longer if teenagers can surpass you in competence,” Tomoe stated coldly, rising from her chair. 

Gabriel slammed his hand down on the desk, the sweat from his palm graying the slick white sheen on the white wood. 

“One last gamble, Tomoe. I have one last gamble.” 

Gabriel fished out his brooch from underneath his jacket lapel, holding it up to the light. To the untrained eye, the center of the brooch was a cabochon of charoite, dark streaks clouding the surface of the gem. From its back shot out four spokes, the top two longer than the bottom: Pearlescent, shimmering nacre reflecting tones of lilac and blush pink. Silver veins ran up each wing tenderly, so thin they were hard to even notice. Perfect, invisible segments, tapering off at the ends of each wing into immaculate points. 

“Feel its power, Tomoe,” Gabriel panted, leaning onto the desk. “This is all we have ever needed! Imagine even an ember of this power flowing through the alloy in every ring! Even the smallest pinch of this brooch as a component, and I will have every customer of yours as my minions.” 

Tomoe slowly sat herself back down, keeping a hand on the table to steady herself. 

“And how do you plan on accomplishing this?” 

Gabriel’s laugh was hoarse and already sickly, his grasp on the brooch so tight the lower wings began to poke into the flesh of his hand. 

“If there’s anything I know intimately, Tomoe, it is that a miraculous can break,” he replied. “And if I can even shatter a single wing of this brooch, I can redistribute its power as I see fit.” 

taglist: @notchocostrwberry @beezonia @silliersiluriforme @lemons-taste @pyrusinc @wuhuislandconspiracy

[becauseplot]

i really do hope that they put a museum or an equivalent for fanart somewhere in purgatory. if there was, it’d probably have to be in or near the global tasks dropoff to make it equally accessible (or, well, equally inaccessible since it’s such a long hike to global from all the bases).

part of me wants to say they should admin-restrict pvp in the fanart zone but the other part of me wants the admins to leave it up to the players if they wanna allow pvp while looking at fanart. could allow for some dirty plays. (yeah yeah, spawnkilling and raiding bases while no one is online is bad, but killing a member while they’re looking at fanart? that is LOW.)

it could also allow for some goofy ass moments where someone’s being chased around global and they’re low on health or outnumbered so they run into the fanart zone like “HM OH MAN THIS FANART SURE IS NICE WOW LOOK AT ALLLL THIS LOVELY FANART MADE BY THESE FANS IT SURE WOULD BE A SHAME IF SOMEONE KILLED ME RIGHT NOW WHILE IM LOOKING AT THE FANART. MADE BY THE FANS.” and the other players who were chasing them just pace outside the museum entrance like tigers in (outside?) a cage. OR the other players join them in looking at the fanart but the moment they step outside it’s IMMEDIATELY back to killing.

I just think there’s a lot of potential for this.

[llamagoddessofficial]

Was rereading the Naga!AU and pregnant Zookeeper MC, so what are the Zoo Moths reactions to pregnant MC?

Sans: Mc starts visiting Sans more and more as her pregnancy goes on. She doesn’t realise its because her body is craving his relaxing pheromones to relieve her of the constant aches and stress. When she sits with him, the pain in her back and feet slowly disappears, the nausea that accompanies her everywhere finally ebbs away, she feels like she can lean back and relax; she really shouldn’t... but when she’s having trouble sleeping through the night, a long nap in Sans’ enclosure is often too good to resist. Especially considering how soft he is.

... As for Sans... he’s euphoric. This is exactly what he’s been waiting for, he knows he’s succeeded. This is why he’s been so calculating, this is exactly why he’s spent months putting on fake gentle smiles and easy expressions, masking his possessiveness and instinctive aggression behind purring and preening. This is his patience and carefulness paying off. In (arguably) her most vulnerable state, she’s not only actively seeking him out, she’s then letting down her guard entirely. The other two can snarl and posture sulk all they like... at the end of the day, she’s coming to him for safety. For affection, for care. Because he’s her TRUE mate.

While she’s sleeping, he likes to put his hands on her stomach. He always wants to protect that part of her... and it’s nice to feel their the baby’s Soul. 

Red: Initially, Red shows no difference in behaviour. When he first realises she’s pregnant, he just reacts by being very gentle and cute with her, pinching her cheeks and purring with a dazzlingly wide grin; Mc’s relieved, she was cautious, afraid the pregnancy might trigger his crazy state and make him unsafe to be around. But he seems calm, he seems like his normal teasing self, curious about her belly but with a noticeable cautiousness that definitely eases her fears.

Then she steps out of the enclosure, and a fellow employee gets a bit too close to her for Red’s liking. He goes nuts, charging the enclosure walls with the red of his wings glowing bright enough to be visible in daylight, steaming from the mouth and snarling so loud people in the next room over can feel it in their chests. The anger is worse than anything anyone’s ever seen, even in his most intense insane states; sometimes he doesn’t look like Red anymore.

The message is loud and clear. Red doesn’t like seeing anyone get close to her. He’s puppy-gentle with Mc, but he’ll attack anyone who so much as breathes too close to her. 

Skull: The moment he realised she was pregnant was key. He was happy to see her and he put his face in her hair like he always does, but he seemed to pick up on a scent that confused him. He moved down and smelled her cheek, accidentally causing her to giggle... then he crouched all the way down, and carefully sniffed around her stomach.

... And just like that, his entire demeanour flipped. Shy, scared, clingy Skull disappeared. Whatever took his place has a steely stare, a dark expression, an eerie smile that says nothing and a touch that doesn’t give you a choice. Mc is understandably very nervous about his sudden personality switch- as soon as she can, she slips out of his enclosure and refuses to go back in.

He’s changed. When she’s nearby, he gets incredibly aggressive and territorial with other staff, even the ones he tolerated before. He’s massively agitated by even her usual routine disappearances. He starts concealing his food, glowing his wings and staring at her nonstop... but the thing that worries her the most is the fact that he’s stopped hiding. Now, rather than going back to his den, he paces back and forth in his enclosure on all six limbs, growling incessantly. If she’s outside his cage he’ll be right up against the glass watching her, and if she’s not there he’ll pace the length of it like a restless tiger.

Mc’s scared. This isn’t the gentle moth she grew to trust, this is a frightening creature whose eye tells her to come here but whose very presence causes her instincts to scream. Until he starts acting normal again, she’s not risking it.

[the-crimson]

I’m so obsessed with Bad’s fucked up relationship with Ron and how he talks about/to him depending on the circumstances. I’ll try to organize my thoughts and theories about it all.

Bad said that Ron is a member of the family but it felt to me like saying ur pet is part of the family. Bad cares for Ron because Bad is lonely and broken and needs something, anything to latch onto but that doesn’t mean Bad respects Ron or sees him as anything other than a piece of his plan.

Bad is putting on a performance every time he talks to someone and the mask he wears is different depending on who he’s talking to and what he hopes to gain from the interaction.

When we first saw Bad interact with Ron, he was a tiger pacing the bars of his cage licking his chops at the meat just out of reach. After torturing Ron and getting a present from Forever, he completely flipped the script and became sugary sweet. Giving Ron a bigger and more furnished cell. Bringing him brownies and ice cream and a kitchen full of food. Giving him a fish. But the way Bad speaks and moves when interacting with him is fascinating.

I want to start way back in the beginning and examine what I think Bad’s plan with Ron was. Bad spent a week psychologically torturing Ron before letting a soul vulture tear him to shreds. Then Bad seemingly changes his entire plan on a dime but I think that was the plan the whole time. Break Ron physically and mentally then drown him in gifts and force this weird family dynamic onto him to warp his perception of the situation. Make it so Ron will want to give Bad what he wants because Ron knows the alternative and is afraid of breaking the fantasy Bad has created.

Bad will act with a saccharine sweetness and almost pathetic desperation to make Ron happy and comfortable one moment then come down to the basement with a mania and malicious grin to talk about his day. He’ll bring a much more morally sound friend to meet Ron and spend the entire interaction watching them like a vulture eyeing a sickly animal. He says they are like family but answers Baghera’s questions for him and treats him less like a person and more like a beast of burden. Important and valuable because of what Ron offers him (information and emotional attachment) but less important than the bigger picture.

Every time Bad leaves the basement or a social interaction, when he isn’t performing, he is just silent and moves with slow but methodical purpose. I do think he is attached to Ron but not nearly as much as he says in front of Ron or to Baghera. He wants Baghera to think he’s attached so she’ll work with Bad easier. We know Bad is manipulating Baghera and Forever and I think Bad’s attachment to Ron is part of his manipulation of Baghera.

Ron has given Bad pretty much everything he can and has become a liability so Bad needs to get rid of him. That’s where Baghera comes in. Ron sees Bad as sad and pathetic and broken which has allowed him to forgive Bad and will make him accept going with Baghera to live freely somewhere away from the federation. Baghera sees Bad’s attachment to Ron and it makes Bad look sad and pathetic and lost. He made a mistake and he needs Baghera to help him fix it.

Meanwhile we the audience know Bad fully intends on kidnapping Fred and is actively immolating many of his relationships. He doesn’t want to fix this “mistake” he wants to dump Ron into her care because he knows she’s a better person than him and she’ll take care of and protect Ron.

Idk I might be way off course here but that how I’ve interpreted the situation so far XD todays stream might change my mind but this is where I’m at now lol maybe bbh really is just this pathetic and broken but his other actions haven’t convinced me of that yet

[geotjwrs]

Hi can you do a Jenna x younger brother one where r is an up-and-coming actor and Jenna help them with anxiety when on a press tour

lights, camera, anxiety!

Pairings ; Jenna Ortega x Brother!Reader

Warning/s ; none

The sunlight streamed through the windows of the hotel room, casting a golden glow over the plush furnishings. Jenna, adorned in chic yet comfortable attire, lounged on the bed with her phone in hand. Meanwhile, her younger brother, Y/N, paced back and forth like a caged tiger, his nerves evident in the way he kept adjusting his shirt collar.

Jenna glanced up, arching an eyebrow. "Nervous much?"

Y/N stopped mid-pace, his hands flailing in the air. "Jen, you have no idea! What if I forget my lines during the interviews? Or worse, what if I accidentally insult someone and it goes viral?"

Jenna chuckled, setting her phone aside. "Oh, come on. You've been rehearsing for this moment your whole life. Besides, you've got me as your secret weapon."

Y/N raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Your 'secret weapon'? Last time I checked, your idea of a pep talk was reminding me how I once cried during a school play."

Jenna smirked, pretending to be offended. "Hey, it was a moving performance! You made all the parents cry, remember?"

Y/N groaned, flopping down on the bed next to Jenna. "Great, so I'll just aim for tears today. That'll really impress the journalists."

Jenna nudged him playfully. "Seriously, though. You're going to crush it out there. Just be yourself, and everything will fall into place."

Y/N sighed, looking slightly reassured. "I hope you're right."

"Of course I am," Jenna replied confidently. "Now, let's practice some interview questions. You know, for science."

Y/N rolled his eyes but couldn't hide a small smile. "Fine, but only because I don't want to embarrass myself more than necessary."

The press tour venue buzzed with energy as journalists and photographers bustled around, preparing for the day's interviews. Y/N stood nervously in the corner, adjusting his tie for the hundredth time.

Jenna sidled up beside him, dressed to impress in a stylish pantsuit that screamed "I'm in charge here." She clapped her hands together, grinning mischievously. "Alright, little bro. Time to dazzle them with your wit and charm."

Y/N gulped, his eyes scanning the room full of expectant faces. "I think I left my wit in the hotel room."

Jenna rolled her eyes. "Relax, you're going to knock 'em dead. And if all else fails, just remember what Mom used to say: fake it till you make it."

Y/N shot her a dubious look. "I don't know if that's exactly comforting."

Before Jenna could respond, a handler approached them, clipboard in hand. "Y/N, Jenna, we're ready for you."

Jenna gave Y/N a supportive pat on the back. "You got this."

The stage lights were blinding as Y/N and Jenna took their seats for the first interview. Y/N fidgeted nervously with the microphone, trying to ignore the intense scrutiny of the audience and cameras.

The interviewer, a seasoned journalist with a twinkle in her eye, began firing questions at Y/N. "So, Y/N, your debut film has been generating quite a buzz. How does it feel to finally see it come to life on screen?"

Y/N cleared his throat, summoning his rehearsed answer. "It's been an incredible journey, honestly. Working with such talented people and bringing this story to audiences—it's a dream come true."

Jenna discreetly kicked his foot under the table, prompting him to smile more naturally.

The interviewer nodded approvingly. "And what was the most challenging part of preparing for this role?"

Y/N glanced at Jenna, who mouthed "be honest." Taking a deep breath, he replied, "Honestly, the most challenging part was trying not to trip over my own feet during fight scenes. Turns out, being graceful under pressure isn't my strong suit."

The audience erupted in laughter, and Y/N visibly relaxed, feeding off their positive energy.

During a brief break between interviews, Jenna and Y/N found themselves backstage, surrounded by the controlled chaos of the press tour.

Jenna handed Y/N a bottle of water, grinning mischievously. "You didn't tell them about the time you accidentally set fire to the prop room, did you?"

Y/N spluttered, nearly choking on his water. "Why would you even bring that up?!"

Jenna shrugged innocently. "Hey, it's all part of your charm. Plus, now they'll think you're a method actor who really gets into character."

Y/N shook his head in mock disbelief. "You're unbelievable."

Jenna winked at him. "That's why you love me."

They shared a laugh, the tension of the day melting away in their easy camaraderie.

As the day's interviews wound down, Y/N and Jenna found themselves at the afterparty, surrounded by industry insiders and fellow actors.

Jenna raised her glass in a toast. "To my little brother, the newest sensation in Hollywood!"

Y/N blushed, but the warmth in his cheeks was from more than just the alcohol. "Thanks, Jen. I couldn't have done it without you."

Jenna bumped her shoulder against his affectionately. "Nah, you've got talent and determination. I just provided the occasional witty remark and emergency hair fix."

Y/N chuckled, scanning the room filled with familiar faces and newfound admirers. "It's been a wild ride."

Jenna nodded, her eyes sparkling with pride. "And it's only just beginning."

Back in the comfort of their hotel room, Y/N collapsed on the couch with a contented sigh. Jenna joined him, kicking off her heels and tossing them aside with abandon.

"You did amazing today," Jenna said sincerely, tucking a loose strand of hair behind Y/N's ear.

Y/N grinned, feeling a surge of gratitude. "Thanks for believing in me, Jen. Even when I doubted myself."

Jenna nudged him playfully. "Hey, that's what big sisters are for, right? To remind you of all the embarrassing stories you'll laugh about later."

Y/N chuckled, leaning into her side. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

Jenna wrapped an arm around his shoulders, squeezing him tight. "Well, lucky for you, you'll never have to find out."

As they sat together, basking in the glow of their shared success, Y/N couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement for the future. With Jenna by his side, he knew he could conquer anything Hollywood threw his way.

[xxsksxxx]

Almost Heaven

Summary:

Mulder’s attempt to find more exciting cases to investigate while stuck in the bullpen turns into another weekend trip to the forest.

Meanwhile, Scully is faced with a tempting offer that could change both her future and their lives.

This story is complete, and I’m going to post one chapter a day.

AO3 | Back to the Beginning | @today-in-fic

Chapter 2: I Should’ve Been Home Yesterday

Washington D.C. Scully’s apartment Friday, November 27th, 1998, 5:30 pm

Scully unlocked her door and stepped into her silent apartment. She carefully placed her coat into the armory by the door and pulled off her shoes, slowly moving into the kitchen and filling a glass with water.

She took a sip and closed her eyes, tired after an exhausting day full of report writing and mundane phone calls. The quiet of her apartment offered a sense of comfort that made her relax and started her thoughts to drift.

Her mind replayed the day’s events, and her thoughts returned to Mulder’s question about her weekend plans. Did he mean to invite her over? Maybe another movie night? Laughing, drinking beer, joking, and sitting a bit too close. She smiled and felt the happiness of their changing relationship envelop her.

Scully moved to the living room, sinking into the soft cushions of her armchair and letting her thoughts drift to the subtle shifts in their relationship lately. Or maybe not so subtle, she thought.

She couldn’t pinpoint exactly when she’d started to touch him more intimately—she hadn’t really given it much thought back then. They’d been working tirelessly long into the night on a case, and at the end of four seemingly endless weeks, the perpetrator had finally been put into custody.

Mulder and she had given each other tired smiles while trying not to fall asleep at their desks. It had been all too natural. She had wearily packed her things and walked over to him. He had still been sitting at his desk, unmoving. His red-rimmed eyes had lifted to hers, and she had just put her arm around his shoulder and drawn him in. She had quickly brushed her hands through his hair while he pressed his cheek against her stomach, humming softly.

“You should go home and get some sleep,” she had said softly to his bent head, letting the soft strands of his hair glide through her fingers. He had chuckled softly and nodded against her stomach before lifting tired eyes back up to her.

She’d smiled warmly back and made her way home, tired to the bone, but somehow feeling more at peace than the harrowing last days should’ve allowed her to be.

So when they were sent to Virginia on another case only a few days later, she hadn’t even thought about it when she did it again.

Mulder had been pacing her motel room like a caged tiger, his hands firmly planted on his hips. She had been watching him, sitting on her bed, trying to understand what he wanted her to see, when suddenly he turned to the door, ready to run after whatever he thought was out there. She had jumped up and put her hand on his forearm, where his dress shirt had been rolled up to his elbow. She had given his arm a soft squeeze, and he had immediately stopped and looked down at her.

“Don’t. It’s not going to make a difference if you run after him now. It’s just going to give him an advantage. We can look for him first thing tomorrow after we’ve got the lab results back, and we’ll find him. I’m sure.”

He had given her a long look before closing his eyes and nodding, giving in.

“Let’s get some sleep, Mulder.”

He had given her hand on his arm a quick squeeze, laughed, and left for his room.

She had slept peacefully all through the night for the first time in weeks, and the next day they had indeed arrested the man, giving Mulder the satisfaction he had been looking for.

Now, sitting alone in her apartment, going over those moments, Scully couldn’t help but wonder. They’d always touched a lot. Right from the beginning. She laughed wryly, thinking back to that very first case. She’d been lying in his bed, dressed only in her robe, listening to him tell her one of his most intimate childhood horrors while she had caressed his forearm for comfort.

No, the touches, the trust, the closeness—that had always been there. What was new, though, was that they’d started to feel a lot less friendly and a lot more romantic as of late. It didn’t help that they had nearly kissed in his hallway only a couple of months ago, she mused. And that moment was what had lingered in her mind since then—the ‘what if’ like a tantalizing promise just out of reach.

Nearly dying of cancer, after having nearly died being abducted, brought things into perspective. Life was short, and she was done waiting. She wanted what she had always wanted and what had slowly drifted out of her focus in the last few years: She wanted to make a difference in her work, and she wanted to have a personal life while doing so.

Scully took another sip from her glass and stretched out her calves, wiggling her toes. At least it’s the weekend, and I have plenty of time to set things in motion, she thought. Whatever Mulder’s intentions were earlier, she was going to find out.

If things were going as they usually did these days, Mulder would be calling her later tonight—another habit that they had intensified recently. And just like the touches and the physical contact, this one had also been there nearly from the start. Mulder’s first late-night call had also been after their first case. She’d been already in bed, Ethan snoring next to her. But she hadn’t been able to sleep. What she’d seen, what she’d heard—it all had just been too exciting. Mulder must’ve felt the same because he’d called her like it was perfectly normal to call your new coworker in the middle of the night to share your thoughts. And she hadn’t thought anything about it, either. It was just them, right from the start.

But lately, those calls have also changed. Instead of just calling after intense cases or when he was bored, Mulder had started to call her every night, like clockwork. And she’d begun to look forward to it as a nightly ritual. They’d laugh and joke and banter, and she’d fall asleep with a smile at his antics soon after.

Just like I am smiling now, sitting in my armchair home alone, she realized and snorted softly. Daydreaming wasn’t something she did, but apparently, that was also something that had changed. She wanted to believe that these changes meant something to Mulder as well, that he felt like her, that they were worth exploring.

With a shake of her head, she got up and moved towards the kitchen to put some water in the kettle. Maybe it is time to take a chance, Dana, she pep-talked herself. But first, what she needed was some tea and later a nice relaxing bath with a glass of wine, she decided.

9:30 pm

Sully thoughtfully put some cream on her face and throat and worked it into her skin. She checked herself in the mirror one final time before leaving the bathroom and walking back into her living room. She felt much more relaxed now and ready for the weekend—and Mulder’s call with whatever he had in mind.

Scully glanced at her phone, just as it began to ring, startling her, and reached for it, her heart pounding slightly.

“Hello?”

“Agent Scully, this is AD Skinner,” the familiar voice of her former boss caught her by surprise. “I hope I’m not calling too late.”

“No. No, sir. It’s fine,” she replied, straightening up unconsciously. “What can I do for you?”

“This may come as a bit of a surprise, but I’ve been approached by Section Chief Hastings. He’s got an interesting assignment, and we happened to talk about you.”

Scully blinked, not sure what to say. “An assignment, sir? Mulder and I are assigned to Director Kersh right now. Does that involve any of his cases?”

“Actually, no,” Skinner continued. “I’m calling you unofficially in this matter. He paused, and Scully waited for what else he’d have to say. Her heart was pounding. Was this finally their way back into the X-Files? By way of an opportunity, Skinner had come up with?

“Section Chief Hastings is creating a new division in the FBI’s Forensic Science Research Unit. With your background as a medical doctor, a forensic pathologist, and your investigative experience, he thought you’d be perfect for this role.” Skinner paused. “I agree.”

Scully’s thoughts were spinning. How did this new department connect to the X-Files? Were they going to be taken over? What about Spender and Fowley, who were working on the X-Files right now? Would they also be transferred? If this offer included working with Agent Fowley and Mulder as a team, she’d hand in her resignation within a month, she thought grimly.

Scully took a deep breath to settle her nerves and felt her heart slowing down. “And what would be my responsibilities, sir?”

“You would be part of a team dedicated to solving unusual cases. These cases will mostly require advanced forensic methods to uncover the truth behind some of our more exceptional cases. Some of these have been considered unsolved for years. You would be part of getting justice for the victims and closure for their families,” Skinner continued.

“What about Agent Mulder, sir? What would his role be in this department?”

There was a brief pause before the tinny sound of Skinner’s voice came back through the line. “This offer is extended specifically to you, Agent Scully. Agent Mulder will remain under Director Kersh’s supervision.”

Scully’s heart sank. This assignment was exactly what they had been looking for. A way to get back to uncovering the truth. And now Mulder wasn’t even considered. She wanted to tell Skinner how she felt about this offer at the expense of Mulder, but she couldn’t ignore the tiny voice inside her head that reminded her of what she’d been thinking of earlier. It would be a chance to finally get them back to looking for the truth, a chance to make her work matter again. And now, at this very moment, she was presented with exactly what she’d been hoping for—except for Mulder.

“Scully? Are you still there?” Skinner’s voice brought her back to the present.

“Yes, sir. Thank you for the proposal. I’m sure you’ll understand that I’ll need some time to think about it.”

There was another pause, and she heard Skinner exhale. “I know what you’re thinking. I had the same concerns when Hastings approached me. But this offer seems genuine. This isn’t an attempt to split you up to cover the truth.”

“And yet that’s what this would mean.”

Skinner was silent. “I know. If there was any way I could get Mulder in on this offer, I’d be doing it already. Trust me, Agent Scully. But as it stands, that’s not possible. And this might be your best chance to get back on cases close to the X-Files.”

Scully didn’t reply. She felt like everything was moving in slow motion and sped up at the same time. They are trying to split us up again.

When the silence dragged on, Skinner cleared his throat. “I know you’re conflicted, Scully. But don’t hesitate to think about this. I doubt it will be long before other ‘individuals’ in the FBI will also show interest in this new role.”

“Thank you, sir,” Scully replied. “I will get back to you as soon as possible. Have a good night, sir.” She hung up without waiting for a reply and stared motionless at the phone in her hand. Her mind was spinning with conflicting thoughts, while her stomach felt like it was filled with lead. She needed to think this through. But what about Mulder? her mind reminded her. If she told Mulder about this now, he’d immediately suspect some sinister plot to keep them from the X-Files, she knew. No, she needed to get her own perspective on this first before she told Mulder, she decided. This could be their best chance to get back to working on uncovering the truth, even if it meant that they’d have to approach this unconventionally.

11:13 pm

Scully finished brushing her teeth and took a quick look around before turning off the light in the bathroom and walking into her bedroom.

She settled into bed and reached for the medical journal she’d been looking forward to reading all day when the phone rang. Mulder, she thought and was embarrassed that her heart skipped a beat in happy expectation.

“Hello?” she answered, trying to make her voice sound neutral—like she hadn’t been waiting for his call.

“Hey, Scully,” Mulder’s familiar voice came through the line. She heard a noise in the background, and something fell to the floor, accompanied by Mulder’s muffled curse.

“Mulder? Are you ok?” she asked, perplexed, trying to figure out what he was doing.

“Yeah, I’m ok,” he replied distractedly. “I pushed a few books over by accident. Sorry about that. Are you already in bed? Did I catch you at a bad time? Or a good one?” he joked.

“No, not at all,” she replied, a smile tugging at her lips. She loved those nightly calls more than she was ready to admit. Especially to Mulder. And she could hear his return smile through the phone.

“So, any exciting plans for the weekend?” he asked, his voice playful. “Or are you going to spend it working on another essay for one of your medical journals again?”

Scully guiltily looked at her nighttime reading material and chuckled. “I might. Or I might not. Why do you ask?”

“Well, I was thinking about going on an adventure,” Mulder replied mysteriously, adding a pause, no doubt so she could ask what he was talking about. Scully grinned.

“An adventure. And what kind of adventure are you talking about, Mulder?”

“An adventure you might find interesting yourself,” he joked. “And it would require you and me to spend the weekend investigating a fascinating phenomenon.”

Scully felt her heart speed up. So she’d been right. He did mean to ask her to spend time together. I didn’t expect the whole weekend, though! she thought and tried to ruthlessly push her excitement down. He’d mentioned a fascinating phenomenon, and that meant only one thing in Mulder’s world. An X-File.

“A fascinating phenomenon, Mulder? Fascinating for you, or me?” she asked flatly.

“Let’s just say it’s something where your scientific perspective would come in handy,” he teased, his voice warm. “But most of all, your company.” Mulder waited for a beat, and when she didn’t reply, he continued, hopefully. “So, should I pick you up tomorrow morning?”

Scully gave up on seeming disinterested and grinned. “Alright, Mulder. You got me. Pick me up tomorrow morning.”

She could hear Mulder’s happy smile through the line before she hung up the phone. Scully felt a mix of excitement and happiness, and her thoughts turned quickly to the job offer she’d received earlier. She felt guilty for not having mentioned it to Mulder yet but then dismissed the thought. She’d have plenty of time to discuss it with him when they were seeing each other tomorrow—and she’d had some time to think this through. Speaking of, tomorrow wasn’t that far away, she thought, watching the LED display of her alarm clock jump to 11:23, its red light flickering every few seconds.

Suddenly, she didn’t feel all that tired anymore and contemplated her medical journal once again. Mulder would probably be at her door before the sun was up. She smiled softly into the semi-darkness of her room, shaking her head slightly. His habits were anything but predictable. As much as he joked about being mysterious and spooky—to her, he felt more like an open book.

Well, most of the time. Sometimes she wasn’t sure what he was thinking at all. She frowned slightly and shook herself out of her reverie. Why was she once again thinking about Mulder? It was late, and he needed to get some sleep. Tomorrow was going to be busy. She determinedly closed her eyes, turned on her side, and consciously slowed her breathing, turning her face deeper into the pillow.

[imzadi-caskett-huddy]

It Started With a Kiss (6/?)

Thanks to everyone for reading and for those who left comments on the last chapter!

One thing I want to make clear that I’m not sure some of you get–I do NOT necessarily personally believe that Castle is solely responsible for the catastrophe that was the Hamptons Memorial Day invitation disaster at the end of season 2. My personal feelings are one thing, but when I’m writing, I’m channeling the character’s feelings. And in that moment after emptying 2 bottles of wine with Lanie, Beckett’s filter was gone and she was feeling frustrated and emotional…so yeah, she had that line about if Gina hadn’t shown up, there wouldn’t have been Josh. So no, that was not me personally blaming Castle for the disaster of the season 2 finale…or even Beckett completely blaming him. That was one line from a romantically frustrated woman who had a lot of wine. All that to say…just because a character says it in my story does not necessarily mean it is my own personal belief. I am writing that character.

Now, this chapter is based around the episode “Law and Murder,” which aired March 28…so in the timeline, it is within a week of the last chapter.

I still do not own Castle…

xxxxx

Thankfully Kate had the day off after her night of wine and conversation with Lanie. She wasn’t hung over from the alcohol…no, it took more than a couple bottles of wine split between her and her best friend to give Kate Beckett a hangover…but she was definitely emotionally hung over. She couldn’t help but contemplate how and when her personal life had started to read more and more like a storyline from Temptation Lane. Groaning, she pulled her pillow over her face.

After a few minutes, she pushed herself out of bed. She needed to move, to do…something. It was the perfect opportunity to practice some yoga. Not only would that give her body an outlet to get rid of her pent-up restlessness, but it would help her mind refocus and recenter as well. Hopefully, after an hour or more of yoga and some meditation, her mind would be much more clear and her body would have expended enough energy that she didn’t feel the need to pace her apartment like a caged tiger.

xxxxx

“Oh Richard…you actually said ‘Pick me. Choose me. Love me?’” Martha asked her son as he sat slouched over his desk with his head in his hands.

“She’d just made a statement about wanting a man to be there for her…she was on the outs with her boyfriend. I wanted to shoot my shot by being…I don’t know, poetic or romantic or something. What was I supposed to say?”

Martha shook her head. “Well you could have at least come up with your own original speech instead of going all Grey’s Anatomy on the poor girl.”

“What? I didn’t go Grey’s Anatomy on Beckett.”

“Richard, please. You stole Meredith Grey’s speech to Dr. McDreamy when they were in that salacious love triangle with his wife…who, by the way, is also a gorgeous redhead,” she chuckled.

Castle was silent for a minute and sighed, scrubbing his face with his hands. “God, she’s got me plagiarising from a TV show!” He leaned his head against the back of his chair and dropped his hands helplessly at his sides. “It doesn’t matter…she walked away with Motorcycle Boy almost a month ago. Obviously, she picked him.”

“Are you sure she picked him?” Martha asked her son.

Castle just looked at his mother like she’d grown another head. “Of course I’m sure. It was obvious from the way she walked off with him with her arm around him that she chose him. Why would you ask me that?”

“Just…hear me out, kiddo. Because it seems to me that you’re making assumptions instead of getting the facts. You sprung your little speech on her in the middle of a case…a serious case. And ending a relationship with someone you care about isn’t as simple as just looking at the other person and saying it’s over; Katherine hardly had time to do so during the case you two were working, and it’s not like she could end it in the precinct when he showed up. Those things should be done in private, and you didn’t give her a chance to end it before you started assuming she’d made her choice,” she pointed out.

“It’s been almost a month. If she ended it with him, why hasn’t she said anything?” Castle countered.

“It amazes me that you can be so clueless when it comes to a woman you are supposedly completely infatuated with. Really, Richard,” Martha shook her head. “Katherine values her privacy. She’s hardly going to broadcast her personal life around at work. She’s also not the type of woman to end a serious relationship and jump right into the waiting arms of another man, no matter how she may feel about him.” Seeing Castle about to say something, she held up a hand to stop him. “She obviously cared about this motorcycle man to have stayed in a relationship with him as long as she did. Assuming she did end the relationship to be with you, it’s still going to take her time to process things.”

“What your point, Mother?”

She reached out and gently patted his forearm. “My point is that you have no idea what she has decided to do unless you talk to her. You have to give her a chance to tell you what she decided before you start assuming anything.”

Castle sighed. “What if she says she picked him?”

Martha gave him a sympathetic smile. “Then you’re going to have to get over her, kiddo.”

“There is no getting over her. I don’t know how to get over her. She's in my veins...I can't get her out. I’ve tried, believe me. Last summer when she was with Demming…I tried to get over her, cold turkey, in the Hamptons with Gina. I’ve tried to distance myself…I just...nothing has worked.”

“If you won't walk away, then I’m afraid you’re just going to have to wait her out and hope for the best,” she advised him.

xxxxx

The McUsic case had taken up most of her time over the next week, and Kate was relieved that Castle seemed to be acting normal…or at least normal for Castle…again. They seemed to have slipped back into their old roles with their old banter…they were once again Castle and Beckett. He’d even confided in her about his worry over Alexis lying to him as well as their argument when Alexis figured out he had tracked her phone…which Kate had to admit, Alexis had a point. So when the Captain had bid them goodnight, she’d given Castle a smile.

“I’m gonna get out of here…Forbidden Planet is playing at the Angelica,” she told him.

Castle did his best to hide his surprise that she was a fan of the very movie he was planning to see himself. “Date night with Josh?” he asked, trying to be casual with the question. His mother had suggested he ask if she’d made a choice; this was as good a time and way to ask as any, he figured.

Kate paused slightly at his question. She knew she had to tell him about Josh; that much she’d decided the week prior over wine with Lanie. But she wasn’t completely comfortable having the conversation in the middle of the precinct bullpen where anyone might overhear. “Um…no,” she stated, grabbing her coat and purse. “You want to come with me?” she offered, doing her best to mitigate the hopefulness in her tone.

He was trying to figure out what it meant…or didn’t mean…that she told him she didn’t have plans with Josh. She hadn’t said that she’d ended things with Josh, but he remembered his mother’s words about how Kate was private and wouldn’t necessarily tell him about her personal life at work. She’d urged him to give Kate an opportunity to talk to him; maybe this was it. “Forbidden Planet…is that the one with the robot?” he asked. Maybe if he played it like he didn’t know the movie, accepting her invitation wouldn’t make him feel so desperate.

She stopped in her tracks. “You’ve never seen Forbidden Planet?”

He shrugged, continuing to play it nonchalantly. “More of a Star Wars, Matrix man myself.

“Oh my gosh, Castle. This is the movie that inspired those two. That’s it, I’m taking you. My treat. I won’t take no for an answer,” she insisted, starting for the elevator.

“Oh no, no. I have plans…” he protested.

She shook her head as she continued toward the elevator. “Nope. Not anymore. We’re going to the movies.” He smiled slightly as he followed her to the elevator. “Oh, Castle, you’re going to love this. This is Leslie Neilsen before he became a comic genius,” she continued as the elevator doors closed

“Really?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she looked over at him with a smile. She was silent for a moment. They were alone now…no one could overhear them. “I…there is no Josh, not anymore. We…I…broke up with him…” she said quietly, looking straight ahead as she delivered the news.

Castle’s eyes widened. “There’s…I mean…you…uh…you broke up…with him?” he stammered over his words. She said she had broken up with him. That meant it wasn’t a mutual breakup, that she had been the one to end things.

“Yes,” she answered, keeping her eyes glued to the elevator doors in front of her.

“Oh…” he nodded. So what did that mean? Did that mean she picked him? Did that mean she was ready for a relationship with him? Did that mean she ended things with Josh but wasn’t going to be with him either? A million thoughts flooded through his head, his overactive writer’s imagination coming up with both good and bad scenarios. Then he heard his mother’s voice again telling him she may need some time, to stop making assumptions and to talk to her. “Can I have candy and popcorn?” he finally asked as the elevator doors opened.

She smiled because once again, that was so him to ask that question. Everything was okay between them. “Yes,” she agreed as they exited the elevator to head for the doors of the precinct

“Can we stop at Remy’s for burgers after?” he asked, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips. She’d broken up with Josh. She was single. He had a chance. He hadn’t felt this free or happy in months.

She rolled her eyes at the question, but she couldn’t hide the slightest hint of a smile as they headed outside. “We’ll see.”

xxxxx

It became clear not even five minutes into the movie that Castle had absolutely gotten one over on her when he’d told her he’d never seen the movie as he seemingly couldn’t help himself but speak the words along with the characters. But she didn’t care; sure, she’d give him hell for it after the movie, but she didn’t care that he’d pulled her leg to get her to insist he go to the movies with her. She actually kind of thought it was…sweet; obviously wanted to go to the movie with her, but probably didn't want to pressure her, so he let her decide how badly she wanted to go with him. And ultimately he was there with her…that was all that mattered.

“So…is that a yes for Remy’s?” Castle asked as they exited the movie theater.

“You just had popcorn. And candy.” To anyone overhearing her, it sounded like she was talking to a child, not a fully grown man.

“That was movie food…you know, a snack,” he shrugged. “I’m talking about dinner. Burgers…those shakes you love…” he added with a smile.

She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. “Fine. But you’re buying.”

“I thought you said tonight was your treat?” he countered with a smile

“I said I was bringing you to the movie as my treat because I thought you’d never seen it before,” she laughed. “Oh, don’t give me that look. You’ve totally seen the movie multiple times…you knew all the dialogue,” she pointed out.

“Did I?”

She laughed again. “You didn’t even realize you were speaking it, did you?” she tugged her lower lip between her teeth as she shook her head

He chuckled at that. “I guess Remy’s is on me.”

She smiled and lightly nudged his shoulder with hers as they walked down the street. “I would have taken you to see Forbidden Planet even if you hadn’t tricked me, Castle.”

“Yeah?"

“Yeah,” she smiled.

xxxxx

Dinner at Remy’s was pleasant and normal; they bantered as normal; they talked and laughed like normal; she even stole a couple of his fries when hers were gone like normal. The drive back to his loft was silent…but it was a comfortable silence.

“You want to come up? I can open a bottle of wine,” he offered when she pulled up in front of his building. Aside from the information that Josh was no longer part of the picture, they hadn’t really talked about them, or even aknowledged all of the events that had transpired between them since January. Castle didn’t want to push…or assume. But he also wasn’t sure where he stood, where they stood. He wanted to give her...them...an opportunity to talk about things.

She toyed with the idea for a moment, but then she remembered the last time she’d gone to his loft and they’d shared a bottle of wine on Valentine's Day; that was not going to help their situation at all. And though she was now single, she wasn’t sure she was completely ready to be with him. “I'm on call tonight. It's late, and I work early in the morning, so I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she finally answered softly.

“Oh…oh, I just thought…uh…with, you know…um…you might…you know, nevermind,” he shook his head, offering her a reassuring smile.

She stopped him with her hand on his arm when he moved to get out of her car. “Castle…” she started softly. “About what you said before...during the case with the bomb…I…I just…” she struggled over her words. Kate Beckett was not a woman of words, she was a woman of action. But Castle was a writer, a man of words, and she knew she needed to give him some…he deserved that from her. “I don’t want you to think that I don’t…I just need…can you give me a little time?” she finally asked. “I’m on the same page, you’re just…ahead of me. I need a little time to catch up,” she tried to explain.

He followed along with her words, his eyes never leaving hers, and his smile grew slightly the more words she got out. She wanted to be with him, she just needed him to wait a little. That was something he could definitely do. “No surprise there...I am a speed reader,” he smirked. It had the desired effect when she gave a smile and a soft laugh. He gently took her hand before continuing. “I’d wait forever if you asked me to,” he told her seriously.

“I’m not asking you to wait forever,” she promised him with a smile. “Maybe just…a few weeks…” she tugged her lip between her teeth.

He nodded with a smile. “Ok.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek softly. “Until tomorrow, Kate.”

“Hey Castle?” she stopped him once again before he could get out of the car. “Thanks.”

He gave her a genuine smile. “Always.”

xxxxx

I hope you guys liked this one!

I honestly thought I would be able to make it through the last half of season 3 with being able to write a chapter for every episode. However, despite my best efforts, I am going to skip over the next episode, “Slice of Death,” because try as I might there is just NOTHING in there I’m going to be able to really do a chapter around, especially since I’ve got Castle and Beckett in a really good place right now. So the next chapter will be based around “The Dead Pool,” which you all may remember is the Alex Conrad episode. Don’t worry, there is plenty I’ll be able to use for a chapter with that episode!

As always, I love any and all comment you guys have!

[kylieswift31]

The caged tiger

Once upon a time, there was a wild and free roaming tiger.

She was revered by many within the kingdom for her loyalty, courage and fearlessness. The tiger was sought out by the hunters because of these qualities and put on display for all to admire.

“Way to go tiger”

Slowly over time, her stripes began to be covered up. At first it was just a little at a time so that she barely noticed the change, but gradually her stripes had disappeared until there was no more stripes left in sight. The once fearless tiger had become a domesticated house cat.

“I just learned these people only raise you to cage you”

Her truth became watered down in favour of conformity. Her colour drained, leaving behind nothing but shades of greige. Over time the tiger grew frustrated with her confinement. She began whispering her dream of cracking the locks on her cage and escaping, only heard by those who could see the remnants of the stripes lingering on her skin.

“I prefer hiding in plain sight”

A tiger without her stripes is still a tiger on the inside, for it was not the stripes that made her fearless but the wildness that resided within her all along. However, a caged tiger can only remain in captivity for so long before she slowly begins to die on the inside.

“Dear reader, if it feels like a trap, you’re already in one”

This tiger has attempted to escape once before. The door had been left open but the moment her first step out of the cage landed on the ground, she was unable to move for she had found herself tangled in a trap set up to prevent her from ever leaving.

“Who’s afraid of little old me?”

When all hope of escaping appeared to be lost she retreated into the confines of her cage once more. However this time the caged tiger only appeared to be a docile cat, lulling her captors into a false sense of complacency. Meanwhile the caged tiger was stealthily plotting her escape and waited for the perfect opportunity to launch her attack when her captors least expect it.

“But no amount of freedom gets you clean, I’ve still got you all over me”

Each night a crowd gathered to admire the prowess of the tiger pacing in her cage. Yet in the shadows she began washing away the mud that was covering up her stripes. A little at a time so as to not draw attention, but soon enough others began to notice as more and more stripes become visible. Whispers began spreading amongst the crowd as they caught glimpses of the wild tiger underneath.

“When you are young, they assume you know nothing”

During this process it became apparent that the tiger had covered up her own stripes, disguising herself until the time was right to reveal who she has always been underneath. She knew in the beginning there was danger up ahead and that hibernating her wild side was her best chance of survival. At last she washed the final traces of mud off and stepped into the light for all to see as the once caged tiger reclaimed her stripes once more.

“Sweet like honey, karma is a cat”

In the end the tiger was free once more and then she lived happily ever after.

[greyskyflowers]

I've discussed it before and since one of my older post about is it being liked again, I'll discuss it again!

Feral Zoro

Feral Zoro gives me so feelings.

The crew goes nuts during battle sometimes and that's not something you can just turn off. And sure, the others can be wild and fierce but Zoro has battle carved in his bones. The rumble of war drums and old prayers said before battle to wrathful gods are all layered in his pulse.

And all that desire, that relentless fury and strength, went from protect myself and my dream to protect them and their dreams.

Protect Luffy.

Nami.

Sanji.

Usopp.

Robin.

Chopper.

Franky.

Brook.

Jinbei.

Sunny.

I imagine that mantra is louder than anything else during those fights, the urge to protect and defend.

Don't you dare let them get past you. Don't you even think of losing this fight. You have to be the best because if you aren't that means someone else is... And what if that person is the enemy?

Failure is not an option because someone is relying on you.

You can cry with grief until your eyes are swollen and dry like the world feels at that moment, or curse every god you can think of with snarled anger at the sky, or let yourself drift away for a little while all the agony and pain you put your body through comes racing in with thunderous noise, later.

But now... Right now you hold it together.

There is no other option.

You stop when your blood has soaked into the earth so much it's started pooling on the surface or until your body gives up and moving is almost a foreign word.

You can rest when they do. When they are safe. You don't stop before then because you can't.

And while I think Luffy is fantastic at leaving it all out in the field, Zoro really lets himself slide into that mindset in a way far different from Luffy.

And I can't imagine it's easy to settle down after those battles. I'm not talking about the small battles or the ones where they leave a little beat up but okay overall.

No.. I'm talking about the ones that change them. Where at some point, or perhaps multiple, the thought crosses their mind that this might be it.

I've never been in a situation like that obviously, but I know how I get when I get anxious and overwhelmed. Even once the problem is fixed and things settle back down, I'm running around checking on things and watching everything. Heart still ready to start running laps again and nerves pulled tight.

That's a work environment. Granted a very important and stressful work environment but no one will die at my job. My loved ones will not be hurt because of something I do or don't do at work.

Now take that to a scale that comprises of the big battles they've had. That's a whole lot of feeling and adrenaline to just let go of.

And I love after fights where the crew just kind of all go limp and happy because it's done and Luffy won because of course he did.

But...

I think Zoro probably paces a lot those nights, silent and one with the shadows. Heavy boots making the softest thud, the gentle chimes from his earrings, and the quiet noise his swords make as they knock against each other.

Pacing the deck over and over if they're on the Sunny.

Up and down hallways if they're someplace different.

Even around the room.

He just embodies that caged tiger vibe.

They can't rush him. He has to relax on his own but they all help.

He's a little unpredictable and wild eyed like this but they're not scared of him, could never be truly scared of someone who is such a huge part of who they are.

They settle him like a tiger.

With space to spread his legs and get out any extra energy. They let him pace his territory and check on them, even though tigers aren't pack animals. They coax him into the kitchen to eat and replace the energy his body burned through, even though he doesn't register he's hungry. They patch him up with slower movements than normal and try to calm him each time he tenses up and his muscles jump.

Sometimes he stays bloody and raw until several hours later, when he's finally calm enough to take off all the grime and blood like it was a final layer of armor left from the battle.

Sometimes it takes longer, and they wait it out with him until he's ready to come back.

And they'll die before they tell anyone but Zoro's a cuddler, especially after episodes like that. Cat like cuddles all the way.

[cowboy]

journal #2

Good eve. :)

I've been in a strange way these past few days. I don't even know where to start seeing as this is seen by strangers who know nothing about my life, not even the mundane or simple things. but I'll just go into it.

This feeling I've been having of feeling like a tiger pacing in a cage has existed for years now and it flares up every once in a while. what does it feel like to let that pressure buildup go? is it possible to let it go? what would cause that pressure to burst and be freed? is this feeling eternally subconscious-to-conscious-to-subconscious-again? as in, i feel like it comes and goes but always exists. does it ever truly, truly leave? what does it mean to feel free, or cageless, anyway?

do y'all even know that feeling i'm talking about? lmao.

i have been going crazy over this crush for way too long and that's definitely adding to my feeling. i feel absolutely tied to a crush when i have one; i become addicted to the sensation of being near them and i forego so many of my desires and needs for them.

i came back home the other day to a messy room for five days in a row and only today could i clean it. i'm actually also realizing i haven't had my meds for a month now and i think that's really adding to this feeling and these actions (or... lack thereof).

anyway, i made a hinge profile this morning and i quickly realized how much i enjoy being found cute! it usually makes me feel really nervous but the separation of an app/ability to just swipe left or whatever made me feel more in control. to be clear, i hate that i enjoy it so much. i feel very vain in that sense -- i suppose it's human, but i'd like to think i don't need/want to be found attractive. oh well. i do i guess. not sure if that's something i should like... fix.

hinge both helped and did not help at all with my crush. i've been able to realize there's attractive funny interesting people out there that my crush tunnel vision was distracting me from, so i feel a lot less tethered to my crush. on the flipside, i realized so quickly that the type of person i am really truly fully attracted to at the moment doesn't exist, because it's just my crush. i just want someone exactly like him because i just like him so much. Lmaoooooooooo.

i'm also feeling stuck on this one art piece i'm making for my now-ex-but-still-bestie -- here's a pic of all the drafts i made of it:

that pic is missing one; four drafts total exist.

here's a close up of the most completed one:

plus my stupid looking goose ass. (my eye is red and irritated rn.)

it says "isn't it funny that we're here and not there?" i liked this concept for a while but now i am sick of it after drawing it three times and i feel like the message is boring to me now. i wanna draw something new, but i haven't properly set aside the time to develop any novel concept that would be appropriate as a gift for my friend.

anyway, i'll try to figure that out. what i'm more interested is -- do you feel like you get anything from this image, emotionally or intellectually? does it interest you at all whatsoever? what do you think the meaning is behind this piece, if any is notable at all? (i like it when people form opinions or theories behind the meanings of my pieces, so anything is valid 100%.)

also, would anyone be interested in purchasing one of these original drafts from me for like $10 or $15? again, i'm seeing if i might dip my toes into selling my art online so any feedback is helpful. hehe.

i'll end here. i have some more to post -- i'll be posting a little sketch comic draft of "notes on having a crush" and maybe people can find those relatable or what have you.

i hope everyone's having an excellent day. i am having a good one myself, despite that strange feeling of being pent-up and unresolved. :)

[dumbass-tumbler-cryptid]

What would a kidnapping look like if Quaritch managed to kidnap Spider when he was, let's say, 12 years old? (In this version, Spider would go to the Sullys as a 12-year-old and he would already be in all the foster families like in the original Cabin, he would just change them more often)

Sorry this took me so long! I needed to think about it a while and then I got caught up with things. Honestly I love this idea. I really enjoy au’s where Spider is aged down so thinking about this concept is fun for me. And honestly I think this au would be funny in a dark humor kind of way until it just get straight up dark. Because Quaritch would see his tiny 12 year old who’s still at least a year from hitting his growth spirt and think “I can handle that no problem,” completely oblivious to the fact that preteens are monsters. (At least in my experience they are. When I was in middle school we were all terrible to each other then we got to high school and everyone calmed down)

So he’d take Spider to the cabin and just lock the front door and bar the windows because what kind of damage could a 12 year old do? So much actually. Spider tosses plates of food across the room like a frisbee, he breaks things, he climbs on the furniture, hissing down at his father like an animal. Quaritch tries to wrangle his wild child, chasing the boy around the house. His son is clever and quick making him really good at avoiding him. If you’re ever had to chase around a pet that has something in their mouth, it’s basically that kind of back and forth. Eventually Quaritch will catch him, and hold his son on his lap to try to get him to eat, or do his school work, or just simply sit calmly with his father for a little bit. Spider never puts up with any of it, squirming to get out of Quaritch’s hold until he either wiggles free or Quaritch gives up.

After a few weeks of this Quaritch would be fed up. Obviously the Sully’s influence had made his son too wild. And if you want to tame something wild you have to break it. So one morning Spider wakes up and goes to open his bedroom door only to find it locked. He bangs on the door, screams his head off, throws things. Even after hours Quaritch never comes. Then he gets quiet pacing his room like a caged tiger. When he tires from that he huddles in the corner of his destroyed room and fights to not cry. All he wants is to go home. To be away from this monster.

It’s not until the next morning when his father softly rapts on his door and asks, “how you doin’ in there Junior.” Spider angrily throws himself at the door screaming ever curse word under the sun . On the other side of the wall Quaritch shrugs, “alright then.” And with that he leaves for another day. By the night time Spider is sobbing and he doesn’t care. He’s so hungry his stomach feels likes it’s eating itself and his mouth is dry as sandpaper. The walls feel like they’re closing in on him and everything is so quiet it’s maddening. When Quaritch returns once again the next morning asking “how y’a doing,” in a small watery voice Spider asks, “can I come out.”

Quaritch smiles. “What do you say first?”

“Please” the little boy says desperately

“And?”

He thinks for a moment then, “I’m sorry.” Spider feels disgusted with himself.

The door opens. His father towers over him from the entryway. Then he holds his arms out wide, “come here.” Spider hesitates not wanting his father anywhere near him. But he wants out of this room more. Slowly he walks into his father’s arms and hugs him tight. His father pats him on the back then leads him into the kitchen where breakfast is waiting.

After that any time Spider rebels against Quaritch he’s threatened with “time out”. And he does end up in “time out” quite a few more times to the point where after a few months Quaritch just has to mention “time out” for Spider to get quiet, his eyes filling with tears.

When Spider’s being good in his father’s eyes he’s rewarded. He’s praised and complemented. He gets extra dessert. He even gets to go outside to play as long as he stays where his father can see him. Slowly the “good” starts to out weight the “bad” as little Miles starts to settle in.

So yeah it’s basically a “gentil” version of what happens in Cabin. Anyway thank you for your patience! I hope you enjoyed 💙

[mlmxreader]

Killer | James Delaney x gn!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ James Delaney x Reader -> "They pay me the money and I do the job, I got a contract on you" [No one expected Delaney to be on their list, least of all reader] ❞

: ̗̀➛ Delaney settles down with a bounty hunter, but there's still a fair few surprises to come your way; even if one of them requires both a lot of gall and even more stupidity to even think about.

trigger warnings: ̗̀➛ swearing, mentions of death and murder

↳ word count: 1000

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

“Fuck.”

Delaney looked up from his desk with a soft huff, slowly putting his pen down as he watched you carefully; you walked with great tension in your shoulders and back, hunched over slightly and staring at the piece of paper in your hands with furrowed brows and a tight sneer.

He knew that look.

You had a new client, and they had just sent you your orders. A bounty hunter by trade, you took money from whatever and wherever you could within reason; usually it was just murderers who had escaped justice one way or another - often because they were of a pale complexion.

Delaney knew you all too well, though, and knew that this one was likely not that - or it was someone who was genuinely innocent.

So he watched, listening to the harsh, marching sounds of your pacing as you went back and forth in front of his desk as if you were a caged animal, starving and parched and yearning for freedom - about to risk it all to escape the iron bars.

He leaned back, abandoning his few bits of paperwork for a moment as he tilted his head to the side and kept watching; you kept rereading the paper, as if it would make any more sense the more you studied it. He knew you only did that when you were genuinely conflicted about the bounty.

Often because it wasn’t enough money. You sneered and scowled when you read the section that he guessed held the name, so it couldn’t have been the money. They must have asked you to go after someone innocent. But he couldn’t tell, and he knew that the only way of finding out would be to ask.

“What?”

You turned to him with a sharpness in your eyes that he usually smiled at; so professionally cold and cruel at times, your stare could rival his. Although his was animalistic, yours was trained.

“They pay me the money and I do the job, I got a contract on you now, and I’m not fucking doing it.”

Delaney nodded, partially in agreement as he hummed and looked for his pen; he grabbed a new bit of paper, and started to write something down, but you couldn’t see what.

“James!” You barked with all the authority and brutality of a general. “Did you not fucking hear me?!”

He nodded again, his words just grunting out past his lips. “I’m writing a letter.”

Sure, he was surprised that anyone would have the gall to ask you to hunt him down and kill him, given the fact that you had recently changed your last name to his and constantly wore a ring with his name engraved on it; but he couldn’t be surprised that there was a bounty on his head.

It was brave to ask you to be the one, of course, but bravery was incredibly fucking stupid as well. So he grabbed his pen, and he started to write out the letter as he ignored your continued pacing and loud grumbling.

A tiger trapped in a cage, it wasn’t long until you screwed the contract up and threw it at his head.

“Did that make you feel better?” Delaney grumbled, only looking up at you for a moment.

You huffed as you collapsed in the chair next to his desk, folding your arms across your chest and bouncing your leg. “They want me to fucking kill you, and your response is to… to fucking write a letter?! Are you stupid?!”

Delaney shook his head as he glanced at you, almost smiling as he carried on scratching the pen against the paper. “Stupidity was sending you the fucking contract.”

You couldn’t argue with that. “Oh, so you did hear!”

“Fuck off,” he rumbled, shaking his head. “Do you want this to go away or not?”

You huffed, watching him carefully and curiously as he took the screwed up contract and unfurled it; he studied the lettering and the return address, and grunted to himself before continuing to write.

You guessed that either he was going to ask one of his contacts to kill the person who had placed the bounty, or he was writing directly to them and threatening them himself - either way, you couldn’t see the person who took the contract out living to see the dawn. If they were lucky.

You weren’t quite sure what to do, though; you knew that it was only a matter of time before someone asked the same again, but you also needed the money that came through from the jobs.

You couldn’t hurt Delaney, even when you accidentally tripped over his feet, you always felt immense guilt for it; anyone else, you wouldn’t have batted an eye but he… he was different.

He had always been different. You didn’t want to see him hurt, but maybe… maybe you were the only person who could truly protect him - you knew how bounty hunters and assassins operated, you knew how they worked and how they thought.

Maybe you were his best option for any sort of defence.

But he would never let you do it so outwardly; he said that the second he put the ring on your finger, he would not allow you to become his bodyguard. You were not to get involved with his affairs at all, and you were not to start using your talents and skills to ensure his survival. 

But obviously it wasn’t as easy as it all seemed, and from the way his hands shook when he grabbed the contract again, you knew that he was about two seconds away from grabbing his hat and fucking off to find the person himself.

“James,” you said softly. “If you’re gonna kill the cunt, do me a favour?”

“Hm?”

“Don’t get blood all over our floors when you come home,” you told him with a soft laugh, almost too quiet to be heard. “I spent far too fucking long cleaning it up last time.”

thank you for reading! now, if I may, I would like to direct your attention to Sara - she is a 12 year old in Gaza whose family is trying to flee the genocide and seek medical care for her. If you have any, any money at all, even if it's just £1, then please, consider sending it to Sara and her family. Every little bit of money will go such a long, long way in helping this family, so please, consider making a contribution.