#just to spite that fucker cause oh my god
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some idiot said sonic being trans was ooc yesterday so i made this lol stay mad
#sonic the hedgehog#sth#rawky art#trans rights#his top surgery scars glow ive decided#and im going to use this all the time#just to spite that fucker cause oh my god#listen#tw transphobia#this is the one time a transphobic comment has actually made me laugh hysterically#they said something like#being trans was a complete disregard for his character or something? and then said he wouldnt elaborate followed by a fire emoji#i was HYSTERICAL#AND I NEEDED THAT AFTER THIS WEEK BECAUSE THE REST IF THE TRANSPHOBIC SHIT IVE SEEN HAS NOT MADE ME LAUGH WHATSOEVER#BUT IT ACTUALLY LEFT ME FEELING GOOD TO DUNK ON HIM I DONT NORMALLY DO THAT#LIKE EVER#anyways sorry for tag spam enjoy the png explosion
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In my opinion miraculous has been doing pretty decent with season 5. Chat Noirs Been a freaking badass this season so far. Marinette seems more mature in a way
( I like that for her I really like that for her. Marinette was once one of my favs and to see her get constantly dunked on by the writing as the seasons went on just hurt)
and the material (up to this moment) is handled okay.
(except Luka. Literally don't know what they were thinking making Luka figure out both Ladybug and Chat Noirs Identities in a pretty decent episode in season 4, and the next we see of that they barely elaborate on it and have the fucker LEAVING PARIS?!!! QUE MAMADA?? And Juleka wasn't added to the conversation becaaause? )
*sigh* anyways I digress.
But oh my goodness😂 bro I-
Were the writers that wrote fucking derision just doing this?💀:
Cause that's what it felt like. Chloé's the reason for Marinettes trauma and past stalkery behaviour now? 😂 Bitch please.
Wasn't Astrucs excuse when people were talking about Marinettes creepy behavior and stalker tendencies was because she's a teen girl and teens do stuff like that or some shit?
What changed?
And you can make the excuse that he didn't wanna spoil that part of her past, but in that case why respond at all? Why not just stay quiet and let people figure it out? Literally makes no sense.
(Bro responds to every tweet I swear to god. 😩 You can say "miraculous is cacapoopoofart" and Thomas would still take it seriously. Like damn brother sorry my little niece grabbed the phone for five seconds. )
Like dude this is a pretty big reveal for Marinettes character that you'd think they would handle more carefully! But... I digress again.
The flashbacks were pretty cool too but also dissapointing cause that's where things really fell flat with the writing and at times just felt straight up random and made up.
This entire episode is such a rewritten contradiction to what the writing had set out to do in the beginning. Especially with Chloe and Kim.
Like Kim's just a shitty guy now after you show him being a pretty neat dude for most of the seasons and even give him a lover? 💀 TF? Why wasn't this brought up In season one or two? I mean his crush on Chloe was brought up but not the fact that he was a freaking douchebag. And why the hell did they revert him back to a pick me boy for Chloe in this episode? 💀 They even have him speak nice about Chloe for no reason(IN FRONT OF HIS GF BTW!) and have no remorse for what he did to Marinette at all despite his dislike for Chloé after he moved on from his crush on her. And he feels no remorse at all? Really? And if it wasn't bad enough, bro gets off easy with a slap on the wrist and a half-assed apology. Like bro wha-💀
And Chloé's the source of Marinettes trauma? Again I can't get over that. 💀
Okay okay okay
Look
That's not too hard to believe if the way they were going at it was believable.
It ain't.
Being anxious about rejection is one thing right. And yeah it can cause trauma to kids no doubt, I've been through it myself.
But bro
Look me dead in the eyes. And tell me with a straight face that fucking Chloe and Kim's prank was what caused Marinette To be doin all THIS!
LOOK ME DEAD IN THE EYE AND TELL ME CHLOE AND KIM CAUSED THIS TO HAPPEN!
I think tf not.
You know what I think? I think the writer's Chloe spite is so strong that they decided to use one of Marinettes character writing flaws and give it a fucking alternate universe level size rewriting to fit the "Chloé's a shitty person for no reason and always will be" Narrative that they created and just can't let go off.😩
And at this point I already know the writer's don't care for Chloe. Right off the bat. Hero or villain, good or bad. They don't care for her character at all. I mean they're making her live with her neglectful ass mom cause now they decided that the bitch should be the one to turn over a new leaf and become an actual responsible mother. Right when her daughter hit rock bottom because of taking after her BS priveledged lead example of maternity and morality.
(hell her writing was perfect for an anti villain in the making story but I guess we'll skip over that too. What else is new 😮💨)
She's nothing but a punching bag used to show the audience that no matter what, Chloe will always be Astrucs punching bag to try and prove to other peoples potential development, thoughts and ideas for her wrong. And now thanks to that. That's turned her into a literal contradiction of her own character.
*sigh* well atleast Astruc doesn't really write anymore in season 6. Chloé's character cannot go back to what was and I don't expect her to but they can at the very least write her an actual goal as a villain Instead of just making Marinette the vain of her existence for no reason.
Didn't Chloe literally say in season 3 that she didn't care all that much about Marinette?
I find myself asking again.. What changed? 💀
Also am I supposed to believe that Marinette is so traumatized by Chloé's pranks and antics?.... but yet she gave her a miraculous??
Also didn't Marinette go to the pool place before In past episodes and have absolutely no panic attacks or issues at all?
Am I actually supposed to believe all of this? Because I don't. It doesn't sound believable and the writing sure as hell doesn't do it justice either.
Madre mía. I'd say more but I'm rambling at this point.
This episode was just basura. Some good interesting things and attempts, but mostly basura. For every step forward it took, it also took like five steps backwards.
Would I say it's the worst episode? Nah. It had redeeming qualities.
Unlike this time wasting pile of dog shit that I'm convinced whoever wrote it was fucking doing this :
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What The Fuck Is Wrong With Modern Family Guy?
Family Guy first aired in 1999. For the past 25 years, the show has survived two cancellations, a couple friendly jabs from The Simpsons, a not-so-friendly bashing from South Park, has been the subject of many controversies, had a few banned episodes, was the target of PTC groups, and it’s still going. Nowadays, the only thing the series is good for is the nostalgia for the classic episodes, because let’s face it, the show FUCKING SUCKS NOW!! At what point did the once beloved adult cartoon become an embarrassment to animation? Some would say starting with season 9 when the show made the jump to HD, others would say around season 7, personally I’d say around season 8, right around the time they made Brian and Quagmire mortal enemies. So, what earned this piece of shit show its fall from grace? Time to set the record straight!
1. Character Flanderization - Each character had traits that have been overly simplified while other traits have been greatly exaggerated. Take Brian for example, cause he was one of the hardest hit characters with that concept. At the start of the series, he was the intelligent voice of reason, but now he is an alcoholic, pretentious, unlikable scumbag! Peter went from lovable doofus to domestic abusive, underoos psychopath, and Lois went from caring housewife who played the piano beautifully to sexual deviant who’s obviously cheating on her husband, and not just with Bill Clinton! Meg went from typical awkward teenage girl to the show’s punching bag (more on that later), Joe was a heroic cop in spite of his handicap who’s now seen as pathetically worthless. And don’t get me started on Quagmire! While he was always perverted, he at least used to be likable. But now he’s noting more than a sex-crazed maniac. And he had the BALLS to call Brian out on his faults when he’s the BIGGEST FUCKING HYPOCRITE OF ALL TIME??!!
2. Convoluted/Recycled Episode Plots - A LOT OF EPISODES ARE THE SAME SHITTY PLOT!! No matter what season we’re on, if you get asked if you’ve seen the most recent episode of Family Guy, and you ask, “Isn’t that the one where Peter does some reckless shenanigan that leads to Brian ‘finding love,’ only for the relationship to end abruptly because of how unlikable that fucker is?,” YOU ARE ABSOLUTELY CORRECT!! Also there’s the problem of two things going on at once. In one episode, Stewie gets PREGNANT (more on that later), while in that episode’s B-plot, Peter and the guys are trying to make a viral video. Honestly I forgot how well that turned out cause I was already disgusted by, uh, THAT plot! WHICH WAS WHY THERE SHOULD NOT BE MORE THAN ONE FUCKING PLOT IN A FUCKING EPISODE!!!!
3. Drawn Out/Extended/Overused “Jokes” (aka Filler)- Yeah, I put that in quotation marks because a joke is supposed to be FUNNY! Not even the Joker would find the “humor” in this shitwad of a show hilarious! But I digress! You know the writers have not written enough material for an episode when they throw in something as filler just to fill up the 22-minute runtime. Like the chicken fights, while they are epic, they’re just really used as an excuse to make up for lack of material, because each fight just gets longer, and Longer, AND LONGER! And don’t expect that to end anytime soon, because Peter brings Ernie back to life solely because he didn’t want to be the only one responsible for paying for the damages their conflict has caused throughout town throughout the years! Oh and the Conway Twitty jokes! I’m gonna be honest, I didn’t really like them the first time, but that was at a time I DESPISED country music (I still hate modern country music, but thanks to New Vegas, I broadened my horizons, and my favorite music is metal). But in one scene, they decide to SHOW AN ENTIRE 3-MINUTE SONG!!! 3 MINUTES! OUT OF A 22-MINUTE EPISODE!!! Eventually, even God told Peter that Mr. Twitty himself says to cut it out and actually write a joke! And who can forget Peter falling and hurting his knee? The “SSS, AHHH” gag was funny the first time, but after being used repeatedly, it gets old fast! Also, I should mention the wasted minute of Carter smashing a park bench with a bulldozer.
4. Shocking/Grossout “Humor” - I purposefully didn’t mention this in my last point, but that moment when Peter “rescues” a beached whale with a forklift truck? Yeah he actually impales it with the truck’s forks, killing it instantly. Not only that, but he spends a minute and a half getting it off the forklift, spilling its entrails and even its fucking jaw! How about that episode where Brian GIVES STEWIE HERPES??? OR THE ONE WHERE STEWIE IMPREGNATES HIMSELF USING BRIAN’S DNA?!?! THATS FUCKING DISGUSTING!! I ALWAYS SKIP THE LATTER TWO EPISODES BECAUSE I DON’T EVER WANNA PUT MYSELF THROUGH THAT AGAIN!! How about a moment that got an episode banned from rebroadcast, when Peter wins the Boston Marathon by getting in his car and running over the other competitors? That’s NOT funny!
5. Mean-Spirited Show - Peter even admits he’s no longer attracted to Lois AND he didn’t like being around the kids, Lois encourages Meg to commit suicide, Brian became an unbearable douche after he writes a best-seller, Stewie tells Brian that he’s gonna buy a cake when he dies, Bonnie is hellbent on leaving Joe, even contemplated killing him, and the list goes on and on. That’s all I have to say…
6. Not Living Up To The Name - It’s called “Family Guy,” not “Idiotic Menace Does Whatever Moronic, Reckless Shenanigan That Pops In His Head With Zero Regard For His Family, His, Friends, Or His Whole Community At Large, And Gets Off Scott Free And Learns Nothing!” Peter Griffin, the so-called “Family Guy,” is a selfish, immature, drunk, abusive, unfaithful, apathetic, unsympathetic, unlikable, idiotic, psychopathic JACKASS!! HE PUTS HIS OWN DAUGHTER’S FACE TO HIS ASS AND FARTS IN IT!!! MORE ON THAT LATER! HE CONSTANTLY CHEATS ON HIS WIFE, HE DOESN’T REALLY CARE ABOUT CHRIS OR STEWIE, AND HE CONSTANTLY BELITTLES OR PUTS DOWN HIS OWN BEST FRIENDS, DRINKS WAY TO MUCH, AND DESTROYS THE FUCKING TOWN EVERY FEW YEARS FIGHTING ERNIE THE GIANT CHICKEN!! HOW THE FUCK IS HE NOT IN PRISON?!?!
7. Meg Bashing - WHY. THE. FUCK. IS. THIS. A. THING?!?! Meg started the season off as an unpopular high school girl, you know, normal teenage bullshit, and she suddenly becomes UNIVERSALLY HATED BY EVERYONE, ESPECIALLY HER FAMILY!!! LOIS AND PETER ATTEMPT TO ABANDON HER AT A FIRE STATION AS A BABY, LOIS MAKES IT A POINT TO PUT HER DOWN EVERY CHANCE SHE GETS, PETER FARTS ON HER, AND THE LIST GOES ON!!! WHY ALL THE HATE? BECAUSE APPARENTLY SHE’S “UGLY??” SHE’S NOT EVEN THAT UNATTRACTIVE!! EVERYONE ON THE SHOW SHOULD DIE A HORRIFIC DEATH!!!
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Kokushibou [Satisfied smut]
Xmale reader
3rd
Warning! Sexual Content!
Includes: stress sex, fight then fuck, koku being a bratty bottom, biting,blowjob, marking, multiple orgasms ,multiple rounds, over stimulation, dirty talk, fighting during sex, degradation (heavly). Hiding, slapping, spitng, and a spite fuck. Goodness..Enjoy!
Kokushibou pushed the archer against the wall as both were fighting.
For almost 7 hours.
(M/n) or the archer was happily living on his land and was fine but. The dam fake Samurai had other plans to upset that. Like attacking him. Gods they hated each other..
To the point it was not comical.. no no.
Sexual almost.
Two strong men grunting and groaning, one with blood all over him..for being the one with more hits. Sweat on their bodies and one with his hair arrayed. Kokushibou was losing it.
Internally and externally.
Internally he could not understand why he was feeling slightly aroused in battle, especially with this fucker. The archer demon named Yasumebu (M/n). A demon he hates because he reminds him of his late twin.
Someone who is superior and most likely would be superior to him.
He felt his cock trying to poke in his hakama pants. His kimono was sticking to the sides on his body as he was forced on to the ground. Yasumebe was about to prepare an arrow until..
Kokushibou moved his leg to reveal he was aroused but no on purpose or on invitation. But (m/n) was the only other demon around who could have done this to him. To him it was weird. He froze the arrow and squinted at the Samurai.
He but his foot on Kokushibou's growing hard on and moved it without any sign of being gently.
Kokushibou groaned and hissed at him. About half of his eyes, the three on the left pinched shut. It was not out of pain but only pleasure. This made Yasumebe..disgusted to say the least.
But also he wanted to kill the upper rank for what he had done...but torture is always a better cause.
"Look at you..you pervert. Getting aroused with me in a fight you picked..how promiscuous..really are that much of a bastard you need a dick in you to make you feel whole?"
He moved his foot more vigorously, it made the upper rank squeak but not moan. No! He will never get any sign of pleasure from him. "I-I am not, aany an c-can get aroused. Never for oor from you-"
"Oh cut the bullshit you bastard. You attack me in my home and demand I die so you an be the best? Or is it jealousy? Jealous of me to the point you want me to fuck you? Make you a proud man with my cock stuffed into all your slutty holes?"
Kokushibou's six eyes widen. He dropped his sword from the feeling. What feeling is this? He asked himself. Demons cannot blush or anything but he could feel his ears burn and his cock ache and throb.
He hated him to the point it turned him on? Is that possible? No.
He hated Yoriichi but they were brothers and that is just wrong...but this dam archer..
Before he realized his mistake of thinking to deep, he got an arrow into his wrist and an arrow shot his sword far away from him.
"Well took you too long to answer the question so it is a yes, isn't it? Gods, I hate you but I always give whores like you a chance. By now you'd probably be satisfied sucking a cock and dying. The great upper rank one? Such a fucking slut.."
The arrow glued his wrist together so he could not move em, he could make another sword but he had to concentrate to do that. He needed his full energy to do it but his energy was focused on..him..the archer and how he needed t̶o̶ ̶k̶i̶l̶l̶ him.
The archer pulled Kokushibou by his hair next to a stool, he was gracious or caring about it. He hated him and as did he.
But goodness did he remember how they fought. How strong he looked and how much strength it goes into an arrow. Not that he thought the sport was worth this time, oh never. But him...it made his condition worse. His cock was probably leaking streams of precum.
"Must you fight, I am helping you. Trust me I do not want a whore like you anyways, a good one can shut up and take it..you..most likely are a brat or bitch about it.."
Kokushibou hearing this moved his combined wrist up to scratch the shit out of his arms like a fucking cat.
"Goodness if you want to mark me already! Dam, such a needy bastard...beat how many times you sucked your masters cock all these years...most likely didn't make you choke or gag for the hell of it..but now worries like defeat and death.."
He brought his up to his face. Both were around the same height, so it worked. But Kokushibou was now on a bedding and he was looking up at him. So he felt smaller. He hated it. But it aroused him.
Hate what pleasures you. But between you and I..is not the first he gotten aroused at the thought..
"I make sure to be the one to make it your first.. now if you bite he I cut you cock off too. Got it?"
Hell to Yasumebe it was an excuse to just make him feel a better or worse pain.
"Tsk, as ever I would do as you ask yo-"
He got fucking bitched slapped in the face. "Now I'm going to say this again. You were the one who got to be a perv right? You can suck your masters cock for all of eternity then you can suck a real mans one and not a cowards. Something you need to do. Bite me and you can burn in the sun with my cum all over and inside you. Now be a good brat and suck."
He stood above him with a tight grip on his head and hair. (M/n)'s own cock was out and the marvel it was had the upper rank's mouth salivating.
He just stared at it, like it was something new to him. "What you never seen another mans dick before? Always ready to ride and suck one for you life, so be the slutty brat you are and do what you know best. Go one you need help is my cock to big for your mouth? The one you use to pledge and talk shit? "
In his head he muttered, probably eat it too.
Kokushibou opened his mouth to rebuttal..dumb move. A thick and long length was shoved down deep into his throat. Making his gag on spit and the length. H opened his lower eyes to see not even all of it was in his mouth. The hell?
(M/n) hissed and moved his hips back and forth, he was fucking his face. "Good little slut, do what you know best bastard. Then maybe I can fuck your other hole, maybe even be nice and let you cum.:
Kokushibou groaned on his cock and moved tied wrist to get a grip and move on his own accord, but no avail. His own cock was in need of help. His mind was erasing with how much pleasure would come if he would get fucked like a whore.
Which he is.
His tongue lapped at the lip and it moved in and out his throat. He was pumping his cock with his hands at the same momentum. So feverish and so tempting, it make slick warm between his thighs. His ass flexed at the homewreacking feeling.
His large cock pushing in and out of his made him close two sets of his eyes and let where his true ones stay open. (M/n) hissed and pushed his head all the way to the hilt of his cock and made his stay there. Groaning as Kokushibou's mouth filled with an ocean of cum he swallowed.
The taste wasn't as bad as he imagined. His cock spurted some ropes of cum but he knew with how his luck was playing it would not be the first time tonight. He was allowed to breathe and swallow the rest.
(M/n) looked down at him, his eyes were glossy and he was gasping for air.."Goodness you really are that bad.."
Kokushibou didn't care about his pride or his will, or even the envy. He felt hatred and pleasure. He needed to feel more, it was so addicting. It was like a slow burn he loved. The fire in the pit of his stomach burned for more. To be full , imagining that amount of cum stuffing his tight entrance or making his abdomen bulge..
To be breeded like a mating whore for him..
(M/n) pushed the Samurai to the side of the bedding and for him to be on his front. Ass up, he pulled the rest of his clothing off him. He would often scratch him or put marks he knew he could heal over..if he was concentrated enough.
His plump ass had goosebumps as his breath glazed across it. No kissing rather biting. He bite down on his ass. "For such a plump ass, you and kiss a lot of it aye? Sluts like you can be so troublesome but in the end.."
H sat up and got close to Kokushibou's ear. He moved his already messy and disheveled hair. His lapped his ear lobe and bite down to make it bleed.
"All of you are just bratty whores who need to be taught their place..." Two fingers were pushed into his slicked up entrance and they clung onto (M/n)'s fingers like glue. Kokushibou moaned out curses as he slumped down. He turned his head to the side to he the rest of his.
It felt too dam good. His fingers were so close to his prostate and so close to making his mind wipe to pure ecstasy and pleasure, even if he wasn't at it already. He moaned out without a care in the world. Asking no begging for more. It made (m/n) want to torture him more..
They did hate each other, but to one it was just funny.
"M-more, please fuck me more gods..please..fu-fu~ck.." he cursed as he spread his legs wider to make his fingers go deeper to touch or even at least brush his prostate.
His eyes were closed except the true ones, the only one he could keep open. Upper rank one was glossy and also looked like a bunch of whores eyes. He bucked his hips when his own forgotten and needy cock was slowly getting pumped.
"Wait- WAI- no ahh~" As soon as he pumped his length and pushed deeper into his hole, feeling for his prostate. He came again onto the bedding. He gasped loudly and slumped over. Kokushibou's cock twitched but was still erect.
"Well, what was it you were saying bastard? Or were you too busy cumming like a little whore to even finish? Hmm well it guess my cock can satisfy your perverted self, disgusting."
He spat on his gasping hole and moved his fingers out. The amount of slick or cum on his fingers made him laugh at the pathetic state of the upper rank. "Wow, such a slut for all this? Wonder how easy it is to break your ass and see you go silly."
He yanked almost his hips back up to his waist, Kokushibou swallowed thickly at what was about to happen. (M/n) stroke himself and placed the tip of his cock on Kokushibou's gaping whole.
"One more thing pervert.."
He leaned forward to upper rank one, Kokushibou felt his chilling breath on his ear. All his eyes widen as his cock slowly pushed into him.
He whispered:
"I win slut.."
He slammed his cock into him, pushing harshly onto his prostate and making the upper rank yelp and moan loudly. He almost screamed, (M/n) gave him no time to adjust. Rather he fucked him ruthlessly. He used his hair and yanked it, making him look at the ceiling and also to feel himself hit deeper and deeper.
Kokusibou was babbling about more and more. Or how he hated him. Just either 'fuck me' or 'i hate you'. The archer demon did not care. He was a slutty pervert who got what he wanted. A good cock with a good fuck.
"Such a tight- little slutty whole..gods, im going to loosen it up for you and make sure no one couuld fuck you like I- ah~could..you'd like that Kokushibou? To be a slut and ask others to fill you with their cocks like I do?"
He thrusted faster and harder, Kokushibo's prostate was abused and he felt himself cum again and again. Due to his unlimited stamina and would be fine. But he was feeling drained, he felt so fucking stupid. He was getting fucked stupid even more.
(M/n) hissed when Kokushibou tightened around him, he groaned and growled as he shot thick ropes of cum into his ass. Filling him over his opacity and making his abdomen stretch to accommodate to the amount.
All his eyes, closed with tear stains. Kokushibo's head was let go and he fell straight into the bedding. (M/n) looked at him and didn't bat an eye to spit on his face. His lower half was with filled with cum or covered in it. He cleaned himself and took his arrow out of his wrist and gathered the rest.
He looked one more time at the upper rank. The most feared of them all, looking like a slut in heat. He pulled the hair that would have been a neat pony tail but now is just out and disheveled. He made him look him in his eye.
"See now upper rank? Such a pathetic fighter and warrior, you did do one thing. Your were a decent fuck, not the best but decent." he patted his head and walked out the destroyed house.
Soon it was lit on fire. To destroy what ever was left.
Kokushibou luckily got away and out of the suns fury. But he did hate the archer demon with all he had, and envy him so much. But fuck... he sighed as he stroked his cock from the memory.
"He was right.."
His licked away the cum from his ass as he pulled away his fingers and from his hand. His cock throbbed at the dull feeling. The lackluster feeling inside him only his enemy gave him.
"I am such a whore for yasumebe.."
#demon slayer x reader#x male reader#kokushibo x reader#kokushibo#Kokushibou xmale reader#uppermoon one#upper rank one#smut#Kokushibou smut#top male reader
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Just a Human (S.R.)
Type: mini-series turned one-shot, SHIELD recruit!reader
Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word count: 8750
Summary:
Being a SHIELD recruit was a dream come true, especially with people like Sergeant Barnes or Captain Rogers offering an input to your class’ training.
It was also hard work for many different reasons. One of them being all those guys around; not all of them were exactly fit to become heroes, simply because they were not good people.
Maybe you shouldn’t have pointed it out so openly though. Then again, what would the world turn into if you kept your mouth shut when feeling like speaking up?
WARNINGS: so-so graphic description of assault almost turned sexual, violence and a bit of blood, boys being boys in a real bad way, language
A/N: Steve Rogers vs assholes, round 2. Also, ‘you’ vs. assholes. And Bucky in the mix.
A/N: This was originally posted as a miniseries on AO3, but now edited, I decided to thrown it in as a long, sort-of three part one-shot. Enjoy and mind the warnings.
(gif source dailymcugifs, divider by firefly-graphics)
A Handful of Spite
“Can you believe the fucking nerve on him?!” Henry hissed, punching the bag harder and catching your attention. The statement was followed by his companion nodding grimly.
You tried to ignore the walking testosterone jerks; you never liked either Henry or Jim. The reason was simple – they were, as you loved to remind people, an advertisement on toxic masculinity. Bullies on top of that. The kind of people you wanted to avoid at all costs.
You weren’t that lucky to have that chance though.
So instead, you scoffed under your breath and continued your sit-ups series. You had more important things to do than wonder about what they were talking about this time.
It was your regular training session with the other SHIELD recruits led by Sergeant Barnes – which--- oh my. When joining the academy, you had no clue that the director’s ‘you’ll be learning from the best’ meant that of all things; trained by the more-than-once-believed-late James Buchanan Barnes. Everyone here knew his story – or at least some of it. The brainwashing. The murders. His heroics to make up for them as much as he could. His everlasting friendship and a nickname that was tied to it. Bucky; the very best friend of the oh-so-praised Captain America.
Oh, speaking of which, he joined the sessions too. You were being trained by not one, but two supersoldiers slash war heroes. You couldn’t believe this was your life sometimes, but you were not one to dwell on it. You just accepted it as a fact. An abso-fucking-lutely incredible fact.
“He’s just a fucker, man. Forget about Barnes, you have Cassie in your pocket. Just ‘cause he’s all sticky sweet on her doesn’t mean she’ll suck his-“
You made a disgusting face, pushing harder to tune out the conversation. You wanted to gag and at the same time, your blood was boiling.
Could there be a jerk who was objectifying women more than Jim? A guy who was using his lower brain more frequently than him? Doubtful. You really wanted to throw up at rubbish that was leaving his mouth.
Not to mention that he was throwing dirt on Sergeant Barnes who absolutely didn’t deserve it.
“-he’s like that to all of them. The chicks. And they fucking dig him, it’s disgusting. He makes the poor brainwashed kicked puppy face, reminding the sob story of his and they’re all dropping to their knees I swear…” Jim continued, practically spitting the venomous words.
You squeezed your eyes shut, half furious and half guilty; the sergeant did have a heart-breaking backstory and many girls were making eyes on him, their hearts softened by the tragedy and his bravery, yes. And you couldn’t say it wasn’t moving you as well, filling you with compassion – but compassion only. Obviously, Sergeant Barnes was objectively a very attractive man too, but what they were saying… ugh.
He didn’t deserve these insults; he was not trying anything on anyone, he wasn’t offering his ‘sob story’, actually being rather secretive about it for obvious and no doubt painful reasons. He couldn’t really couldn’t be blamed for the girls fawning over him a bit more because of it, could he? What was he supposed to do? Stop breathing? Stop doing what he chose to be his job?
It wasn’t his problem – and thank god for that – that these two assholes had egos the size of Texas and couldn’t handle a little competition.
Seriously. Walking testosterone-filled jerks. You seriously considered moving from the station you had been given, eyeing Captain Rogers, checking if he would notice.
“Well, he’s not. Getting. Any. From. My. Chick. Asshole!”
The bag swung wildly under Henry’s blows despite Jim holding it. You laid off, taking your fifteen second break.
“I bet he’s fucking them all on side. Always so… so soft on them. I bet he’s leaving all the hard shit for bed,” Jim snorted, somewhere between angry at him competition and amused at his own crude joke.
You were gonna puke. You were sure of it.
“And he’s too hard on us. Showing off for them. I would fucking want to see him holding up against us without that metal arm-“
You had enough. You sat up sharply, panting, your face flushed, unsure whether it was from the exercise or the exchange you were listening to.
“Are you serious?!” you hissed their way, earning their shocked glances.
And then, Jim’s face twisted in annoyance and disgust.
“Oh geez, you’re one of them, aren’t you?” he snarked, rolling his eyes. “The fangirls.”
More heat burned in your cheeks. You weren’t kidding anyone; both the sergeant and the captain had showed up in your not so innocent dreams, but you were only human, alright. There was only so much time you could spend with two very fine men like them in one room, a bit sweaty and rough (or just slightly gentler with the ladies) until your brain reacted. Mostly to the captain. Not the point.
But actually crossing the line? Being a part of the thing they were describing if it ever existed? Waiting in the line until one of them picked you for the evening with a promise to do it again after they… Jesus what, tried all the others? No, thank you. You had some dignity left.
Also, you simply couldn’t imagine them doing such thing. Raised in a different era, tried by war and pain and lost, yet remaining the great men they were? Just nope.
“No! Jesus, are you even listening to yourself?” you hissed, minding your volume. You hoped that the low hum of voice in the room, of others working out, giving each other pointers and the noise of the machines would offer you a cover from the rest of your companion.
“What, you wanna tell me they’re not going easy on you? On any chick, really?”
“Yeah, well, maybe because they don’t actually want to break our bones during training. Supersoldiers. Superstrength. Does that ring a bell?” you pointed out, reaching for your water bottle, hoping either of your trainers would forgive you when seeing you only took a sec to have a sip.
Henry scoffed, leaning onto the bag. “Sounds like someone has a crush…”
You couldn’t help the motion of your hands, inconspicuously throwing them in the air in frustration.
Why were you even speaking to them? You should have kept your mouth shut!
“Oh go to hell, Ulrich! You’re just jealous and scared that your girl whom you treat like a piece of shit will run off,” you murmured, wiping your forehead off sweat.
“Yeah, because they’re sure pulling their punches with guys too,” Jim complained again, rolling his eyes as Henry now watched you, eyes narrowed in anger – oh you hit a nail on the head, alright.
You couldn’t but mirror Jim’s action, deciding to stick to Devil’s advocate, because…. yeah, because it wasn’t fair to either Rogers or Barnes. They were good people and didn’t deserve this.
“So they’re not beating the shit out of us like they do with you, get over it.”
“They’re humiliating us! Showing off their big muscles, trying to impress all the chicks-“
You chuckled incredulously as they actually admitted the real reason behind their bitching so openly; as if you hadn’t known the whole time. Ego. Ohhh, the ego was bruised. Call 911, CPR is gonna be needed! God, how did they even live with ego this big? Compensating for something?
“They’re doing their job. Training. Yes, they go a bit harder on you, because your physiology can take it. Did it ever occur to you that they have bigger problems than entering a pissing contest with you just so they could steal the girls? Jeez… just… maybe try to be less of assholes and the girls will be into you too… ”
You missed the hard look Henry gave you, laying down again, this time on your belly to work on your back.
You wheezed when a knee suddenly dug into your back, violently and painfully knocking the air out of your lungs. Before you could react, one of your arms was twisted behind your back, Henry’s voice raspy right into your ear, low and dangerous.
“Listen, you little bitch, you don’t get to talk to me like that. Understand? Huh?”
He was so proving your point, but you didn’t have the time You tried to breathe in properly, and free your arm while pushing up on the free one, your muscles burning with the effort. Shit, he was heavy. You wheezed again instead of the answer.
“Can’t hear you, sweetie. What was that?”
Peripherally, you could see heavy boots approaching rapidly, making a quick guess of who that could be. You gritted your teeth, tears of humiliation pricking your eyes. You were not about to give Henry the satisfaction of proving his point of your trainers being sweet on all the girls even if this so wasn’t that.
“Screw. You,” you let out with the last oxygen left, grabbing his left calf and sharply tugging to the very same side. A half-second later when his weight of you eased just a fraction, you threw your body to the left as well, adding a jerk of your legs.
Both of you rolled over, him ending up under you and you quickly spun away, gasping, desperately fighting for air. As it burned your windpipe, it was as painful as welcomed. Little spots danced inf ornt of your eyes, but you quickly blinked them away – luckily for you, Henry didn’t dare to attack you again.
You shook your head before pushing to sit up, only to meet with Captain Rogers’s strict gaze.
“What the hell is going on in here?” he demanded, sharp blue eyes flickering between the three of you.
Maybe you were hallucinating, but he seemed to be murdering Henry with his eyes. Uh-uh. You would have been glad he was, hadn’t Henry been talking about favouritism only few moments ago. You pushed up simultaneously with him and you both stood straight, facing the captain.
“Apologies, sir,” you stated mechanically, his gaze immediately shifting to you. Your heart stopped. Oh wow, you would swear the blue of his irises was on fire. You gulped. “We had a slight disagreement with Mr. Ulrich. I’m aware I shouldn’t have been talking to him in the first place. I’ll take whatever punishment is given to me.”
“Yeah, I bet you’d liked taking a punishment from him, wouldn’t you…” Jim muttered under his breath, making your gut twist in disgust.
Was he ever not thinking about sex? You prayed the captain didn’t hear him and you had to stop yourself from shooting Jim a murderous glare.
“I don’t think that’s necessary. Consider it a warning. Mr. Ulrich? You have something to add before you take a few laps?”
You could literally hear Henry’s blood boiling. You opened your mouth to ask for the same punishment, not wanting to have his point proved. You never got the chance to speak.
“No, sir. I only don’t understand why I’m the only one being punished,” Henry questioned innocently and you gritted your teeth.
Maybe because you attacked me, you dickhead?
Captain glared at him for a moment before his gaze shifted to Jim. “You’re not. Mr. Larkin is following your example.”
You pressed your lips together, this time to stop a smile threatening to spread on your lips. God, who knew America’s Golden Boy could get that sassy? You cleared your throat.
“If I might speak, sir, I deserve to run the laps as well,” you noted carefully, earning a curious expression from your superior. You could tell he wavered, a strange spark appearing in his eyes.
You desperately wanted him to let you run too even if you breathing was still a bit difficult; because otherwise Henry would be proved right. Yeah, nope.
“Very well, then. Ten laps around the gym, recruits. Then you move to the station free at the moment. Go. Don’t let it happen again.”
The three of you nodded dutifully and picked up a pace. For some reason, you could feel the captain’s eyes on you while he walked back to assisting his friend with hand-to-hand training. You glimpsed the sergeant leaning to him, probably asking what was that about, but the blond just shook his head.
Towards the eighth lap, you were being overpassed by Henry and Jim, who ran together; faster than you, whether you liked it or not.
“This isn’t over, bitch,” his hateful hiss reached your ears and you picked up speed stubbornly, not showing them that they might intimidate you even for a second.
They wished.
Even when leaving the room after the session was finished, you would swear there was a pair of blue eyes burning a hole to the back of your head. You hoped that you’d soon be free of the captain’s attention.
You sure didn’t want him to watch too closely. You didn’t need him behind your back to see mistakes you sometimes made just like anybody else. Also, it would be harder to admire and ogle him; you did that occasionally, okay. You were just a human, after all.
A Handful of Mistakes
Shauna, your roommate and bestie from science division of SHIELD, was very patient listening to your lament about guys being dicks; she was awesome like that.
So you vigorously vented your frustration with male population, rolled your eyes when mimicking the silent threat of ‘this not being over’, had a very unhealthy piece of cake at the cafeteria that afternoon and moved on.
You should have known better.
Henry’s words came haunting you few days later; which was too bad, because you had already forgotten about them, until the very moment they had punched you to the face.
…or rather to your shoulder and it wasn’t even a punch, more like one of those bumps people did, especially when they were being jerks, shoving you too hard for you to believe it was an accident.
“Sorry, didn’t see you there,” you threw over your shoulder sarcastically, continuing your way to the women’s locker room.
In hindsight, that was probably mistake number one; ignoring Henry and not starting a fight right there, not to mention being mouthy.
To be fair, you had no interest in further interaction; you were exhausted from the training, you were sticky and sweaty and all you craved was a shower. You would have just gone to have one at your dorm, but Shauna was having a hot date and you didn’t want to step on her toes. So you had taken your toiletries with you, using the showers near the gym.
Using the gym shower; mistake number two. It meant all of the students being gone by the time you emerged in fresh homey clothes, hair dripping water, because you hated hair-dryers and avoided them unless they were completely necessary.
You had spent much longer in the shower than needed, allowing your muscles to completely relax under the spray of water. That was mistake number three.
The fourth mistake was your pride. When you saw Henry, Jim, George (at least you thought, you weren’t sure, not having many classes with him) and Frank in the corridor, clearly waiting for you, since they bounced off the wall they had been resting against when you appeared, you should have probably been smarter and scream for help right away.
But no, you were being Miss Future Agent and you weren’t intimidated by four equivalents of high school jocks. Yep, this one was definitely the biggest mistake of yours.
“Fellas,” you beckoned to them, passing them gracefully, your bag over your shoulder along with the wet towel.
You barely made a few steps before a hand gripped your arm, harshly tugging you back. Your heart jumped into your throat, but you tried your best not to let it show. You turned to Henry, looking at his face, head tilted back just slightly due to his height.
“Is there a problem, Ulrich?” you asked calmly, earning a lift of his eyebrows at your tone.
“You know there is. I told you it was not over.”
You tried to ignore your pulse skyrocketing and the panic rising in your gut. You were not that stupid – you understood the implications. You knew that with four guys slowly circling you, you would have to fight bites and nails if it came to it and probably still lose. Sometimes it was just better to walk away and swallow your pride; a concept Henry and Jim clearly didn’t understand.
You jerked from Ulrich’s grip, still hoping you could walk away and call it day.
“It is over for me. Now if you’ll excuse me…“
Yes, you were being naïve thinking it would work.
The bag was torn away from your shoulder, your fingers automatically letting go to stay attached to your hand. You gritted your teeth, blood slowly reaching the boiling point.
Also, maybe you were more than just a bit afraid. Not that you would ever admit it to them.
Henry’s hand reached for your chin and your snatched it away in disgust before he could even make contact with your skin. Amusement dances in his eyes along with a flash of anger.
“Oh, kitty has claws?”
You felt another hand on your backside, sending a shudder up your spine, so you grabbed it, shoving it away as well.
Jim. Why weren’t you surprised? Pigs. What the fuck was their problem?
“I’ll let you know when I meet any. Now get out of my way,” you spat, your gut twisting as a sly grin spread on Henry’s face and he made a step right into your route.
“Or what? You’ll scratch, kitty? Or you’ll scream? Like a little girl?” he mocked you in high-pitched voice, his face lowering to yours so you were only inches apart.
“Bet you’d like that,” you murmured, narrowing your eyes when his breath with an unmistakable hint of alcohol fanned over your face. “No, I’ll offer you a breath-mint, because honestly you should do something about your breath.”
Yep, that was the mistake no.5 and definitely an enormous one.
You heard one of the guys chuckle, but you never got to enjoy the thrill of victory.
Out of blue, there was something around your neck, the weight of the towel shifting (add that to the mistake list) and your body flew backwards, colliding with a male one. George was it?
Your hands went to instinctively grab after the towel crushing your throat, but suddenly they were wrested down and pinned to your sides by strong arms. Jim had caught one, Henry another. Fucking cowards.
With your breath coming out short with both lack of oxygen and rising fear, your pulse thundering in your ears, you tried to jerk from their grip, but they wouldn’t budge, having an undeniable advantage.
Oh fuck, fuck, you were so fucked.
“Sassy little mouth, aren’t we?” Henry hummed, wry expression on his ugly face. “So dirty, feels like we should wash it with something. Who wants to go first, fellas?”
Loud alarm bells rang in your head, icy shiver running down your spine, stomach turning over.
Oh no, you don’t.
Your knee snapped up on instinct to gain the momentum, followed by a swift low kick to Jim’s knee.
He yelped and let go of your arm, allowing you to send an elbow straight to George’s face; and finally, your airways were free as the assault as the towel trap loosened.
You coughed, fighting for oxygen and mindlessly threw the item away to have at least one arm free.
“Bitch!” one of the men yelled; you weren’t sure which one, but you didn’t waste time thinking too much. Survival instinct took over.
Tears prickled in the corners of your eyes and you barely silenced the scream when Henry took advantage of your hesitation, twisting your arm behind your back. Fuck he really had a thing for that, didn’t he?
You tried to kick him, but someone else’s leg somehow managed to swept their leg under yours and you fell on your knees. Sharp tug on your hair caused you to cry out and obediently tilt your head back. Few tears escaped you, but you pushed up in attempt to get up again.
A kick coming from behind threw your body forwards and you nearly fell on your face when Henry finally let go of you. You tasted blood as you bit your cheek, but you managed to at least land on your shoulder instead of face-planting.
It still hurt like a bitch, but at least you still had all your teeth… or you thought so, not having time to check. Catching a movement from the corner of your eye, you managed to roll over before a kick to your side could hit you with full force. Frank’s foot only brushed you, but you were sure you’d have a bruise as a souvenir anyway.
A punch landed next to your face when you dodged it in the last moment, someone grabbing your legs and holding them together. Between your efforts to free them, you didn’t have time to chase away the body suddenly holding your arms as well.
“Fuck--- she’s a handful.”
A ragged battle cry erupted from your throat as you tried to jerk your body from their grip on pure instinct, every self-defence move you had ever learned flying of the window.
“More fun to break her, don’t you think?” Henry purred, his hand sneaking around your waist under the hem of your t-shirt.
Your head spun like crazy at the skin-to-skin contact and nausea hitting you hard. You wanted to puke and scream and punch and you couldn’t make yourself to do either, tears rolling down your cheeks as your body convulsed in a desperate attempt to break free.
There was ringing in your ears, disorienting you, but aware of the hand suddenly covering your mouth you tried to bite it on instinct holding you down.
“Oh-ho, biting!“ you heard, strangely muffled as if you were under water.
“I like them feisty-“
“Playing hard to get!”
“Shit, SHIT-“
The pressure on your legs eased all of sudden and you immediately kicked with all you had, catching the rising figure in the calf, knocking them off balance.
“Fuck!”
You would swear the floor vibrated, but in must have only been your mind playing tricks on you. George disappeared from your field of blurry vision; you only saw a fist sending him flying sideways.
Yep, your mind was fucking making up things, because there was no way he could have been thrown away like this by a single punch. You weren’t complaining; the relief the illusion provided was almost blissful.
Henry’s body weight vanished as well in nearly supersonic speed as if he wanted to escape the illusion. So you did the first thing that came to your mind; with your hands free, you grabbed his ankle, stopping him from running away. Which, thinking about it, was stupid, because only a moment before, you would have given anything to get him the fuck away from you.
He kicked back blindly, but his sole never met with your body – he was dragged away and… and lifted to the air as if he weighted nothing.
Blinking your tears away, your fuzzy mind cleared.
Only to reveal a very muscled and very much pissed off blond slamming Henry against a wall and then letting his suddenly unconscious body slide down.
You gasped, your eyes catching a glimpse of the fourth figure – Frank – several feet away, running for his life.
“Buck?!” came a shout and before you could question it, a metal arm emerged from behind the corner, stopping Frank dead as he rushed straight into it.
“Yep?!” the dark-haired supersoldier yelled back, sounding almost amused.
What the hell was happening? What the hell just happened?!
You blood sizzled in your veins, loud and rapid thump-thump-thump banging in your ears, face damp with several shed tears, body aching and your mind fucking racing.
You heard a whimper on your left, automatically turning to the sound. It left Jim’s lips, his form crumbled on the floor, struggling to stand up.
The captain’s knee seemed to come out of nowhere, digging into Jim’s back and pinning him down again before you even registered a movement.
“Is it fucking over now?”
“Steve, let him be. Not worth it,” Barnes’ voice tried to reason, sounding rather growly, but not nearly as loud as before. He approached your group in rapid pace and Rogers scoffed and let go.
You gulped at sergeant’s angry grimace, crazily convinced he was angry with you for all the mistakes you made that lead to this; but his expression softened when his gaze fell on you.
“Hey there,” he greeted you almost casually, holding out a hand to help you up. “Can you stand?”
You blinked several times at the suddenly dispassionate tone, even if you still sensed something bubbling under it. You shook off the thought and accepted the offered hand – the flesh one. The detail didn’t escape you, your bran in overdrive. Of course he hadn’t offered you the metal arm. He didn’t want to scare you. He was thoughtful like that-
-or not. The strength he dragged you up with was way too much for you, more so when combined with the speed and your state. You stumbled over your feet, a wave of dizziness messing with your balance.
You awaited the upcoming reunion with the floor, unable to stop the fall, but it never happened. Before you could as much as reel, gentle hands supported you in a firm grip, pleasantly warm against your bare arms.
“Whoa, take it easy,” Rogers’ voice warned you, soothing. For some reason, it felt more like ‘I got you,’ instead of ‘take it easy.’
You took a deep breath, Barnes’ hand letting go of yours as he semi-voluntarily handed you over to his friend.
“You’re bleeding from your mouth.”
Thanks for the reminder, I noticed.
You swallowed the snarky remark, well-aware of the sergeant’s care. You fought against the urge to spit the blood out.
“Is fine…” you muttered, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “Bit my cheek. I’m pretty sure I—“ you quickly ran your tongue over your teeth just to confirm your theory, “-still have all of my teeth.”
Sergeant Barnes gave you a tiny smile, the worried crinkle that had found its way between his brows disappearing.
“Whatever you say.”
His gaze flickered to something behind your head, probably in order of exchanging a wordless conversation with your still present crutch. Not that you were complaining. The weight of what had happened was slowly settling on your shoulders and you were grateful for any support – and who were you kidding, Captain America made for a pretty reliable support.
“Why don’t we leave you in pu- Cap’s capable hands while I-“ Barnes’ jaw clenched, pale eyes scanning the four bodies on the floor, calculating. “-take out the trash?”
You nearly choked at the choice of his words, wincing. Captain Rogers’ hands squeezed your shoulders reassuringly and you nodded, not sure what else to do.
You didn’t want to look at Henry. Or Jim. Or their loyal companions.
So when the captain carefully spun you on your heels, you didn’t protest and your feet started moving on autopilot in the direction he had set.
“You okay to walk without support?” he asked softly, a stark contrast to the voice you remembered from earlier or from the training sessions.
You knew that if you said yes, he would let go of you. Honestly, his touch felt damn nice, firm and yet somewhat gentle, a pleasant contrast to harsh fingers of the men who had the nerve to attack you – you had to swallow bile rising to your mouth at the awfully fresh memory. Fuck, it had been so close, just a minute later and--- you shook your head mentally and tried your best to erase this memory from existence.
You decided not to abuse the kindness the captain was offering. After several indulging steps, you quietly confirmed he could release you. You found out that sensing his large frame by your side as if he was your bodyguard was nearly as comforting. Nearly.
You didn’t have the strength admonish yourself for basking the light of his protective persona. Future agent of not, you still had the right to want to feel secure at times.
After all, you were only human.
A Handful of Truths
You didn’t realize you were shaking until a blanket was tossed over your shoulders.
You were sitting on a short couch in what looked like a cosy office, hair still damp, body finally registering the ache caused by previous events, just like your brain was slowly taking in what had happened.
Captain Rogers, whose courtesy was to escort you from the hellhole you had been attacked in, had clearly took it as a personal mission to take care of your injuries; it hadn’t dawned to you until you were seated and your mind helpfully supplied you with ‘This isn’t the infirmary’.
He pulled a swivel chair to sit face to face with you, a box of medical supplies left open on the coffee table at your side. You didn’t realize he had moved the chair or dug the box from god-knew-where until the items were simply there.
“How do you feel?” he inquired, attentive eyes scanning your hunched form. You instinctively curled onto yourself, snuggling further into the blanket. You knew you should come up with an answer, but your brain started to hurt with the effort to do so. “I guess that’s fair. Can you tell me what hurts the most?”
You quickly glanced at his openly kind face, his baby blues still watching for any reaction that would clue him. Your throat went dry at the compassion of display and you had to swallow before speaking – and think. What hurt the most…?
You didn’t know what possessed you to tell him what you did, but it came out before you could stop yourself.
“My pride,” you croaked, causing his eyebrows jump just like the corner of his lips.
“That’s probably fair too. Then again, I’d rather know about something I can fix.”
You felt your body relax a little at his informal tone – you might even say a jovial one, but you could still sense too much worry behind it to call it that. You attempted a tiny smile at least to show him that you were more or less fine – you weren’t – and brilliantly failed.
“Landed on my shoulder. Probably gonna have a bruise on my side from when… when they kicked me. Ribs and arms might be a bit tender for few days, ‘cause they were heavy as they--- they’re heavy,” you voice wavered as you saw the muscles on the captain’s forearms clench and his hands curled up in fists. You sheepishly looked up to his face. “I got lucky.”
His eyebrows rose again in a ‘figures’ manner as he leaned back to the chair.
“Nothing else apart from that, your cheek and your pride?”
“I’m a little cold, but you took care of that,” you admitted, taking a deep breath in as you tugged on the blanket pointedly.
Despite what you were saying, you didn’t feel okay, the tremble never quite leaving your body. It wasn’t hard to figure out why. You stared at your knight in shining armour, gathering courage to do what was needed. You tried your best to meet his gaze, feeling so small and embarrassingly weak in front of him.
“Could have been much worse if you haven’t showed up. Thank you.”
He pressed his lips together, shaking his head. He leaned in, his elbows on his knees.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t faster... I should have kept closer eye on Ulrich,” he muttered under his breath, making you wonder if you only imagined it. “Your pride shouldn’t be hurt. You held yourself against them just fine.”
Your heart skipped a beat at the honestly his voice held – and you were honestly grateful for the slight shift of attention. Oh. Had he forgotten how things had been when he had arrived?
You weren’t sure whether you should remind him. You definitely didn’t want to remind yourself, but before you could solve your little dilemma, he clarified.
“You haven’t started training the combat against multiple opponents yet. Let alone four opponents, all of them having both height and weight advantage. You couldn’t exactly go all Black Widow on them if no one showed you how.”
He accented his words with a reassuring smile and you almost believed him. The shivers finally eased, most likely thanks to the warm treatment you were being given in all senses of the word. The inner cold gradually melted and you were left in nothing but pleasant warmth.
Mentally, you patted your pride gently on its head; you couldn’t quite disagree with him. No matter how helpless you had felt earlier and how ashamed for it you were, the truth was you were still learning. You weren’t a finished agent yet.
You breathed in and out, avoiding the gaze that was still on you. It felt like a freaking brand with how intense it was. You couldn’t say you hated it necessarily, you only wished you at least didn’t look so pathetic. No make-up, probably red with a smudge on blood somewhere, perhaps with some bruising already forming, hair wet and messy. You absently ran your fingers through it in attempt to fix it a bit as if it could help.
What had you been talking about? Right… those assholes being cowards and coming at your four against one.
“I… I just fucking hate bullies,” you grumbled darkly, your hand immediately covering your mouth when you realized what you had said. Oh. Language. Still your superior you’re talking to, no matter how nice. “Sorry. Please, pretend you didn’t hear the f-word. I just hate bullies, period.”
“I might have sworn earlier too, so let’s call it even,” the captain offered, one corner of his lips raised. Oh. He had, hadn’t he? ‘Is it fucking over now?’ What did that even mean? “And so I heard.”
“What?” you yelped, your mind racing again in search for the meaning behind his words.
“I mean… I heard you. When you were defending Bucky, in the gym. I’m pretty sure your exact words were about a ‘pissing contest’.”
“Oh god,” you breathed out, your face no doubt set aflame. He had heard you; that was why he had said he should have kept a closer eye on Henry. Oh. Ohhhh.
Also, did he just say ‘pissing’?
“You weren’t wrong by the way. But… neither were them.”
You blinked in surprise. What? “About?”
You knew he didn’t mean the sleeping around with recruits, your gut was screaming that at you, because they wouldn’t, but still, you rather asked for clarification. If he didn’t mean that part, which one then?
“Ladies do fall over for Bucky,” he hummed with a lopsided smile, a playful twinkle in his eyes. It did something to your belly, a strange familiar shift that was very inappropriate, but hell, people needed to cut you some slack. He was impossible not to ogle and you didn’t have the energy to control your reaction after today’s events. “And I don’t really pull my punches when I’m training those two in particular.”
“Why?” you blurted out before you could stop yourself and think better of it.
His gaze bored into yours, burning with intensity and with a glint of something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.
“I don’t like bullies either.”
Did he lean in even more or were you so focused on his face it only seemed closer?
You weren’t able to look away. His blue eyes simply locked you in, not allowing you to escape. The strangest thing was that it wasn’t scary. It should be, he was— he was a freaking captain, your superior, a superior to a lot of people, which you were constantly forgetting ever since he had saved you from falling on your ass in the hallway and you had to remember that.
Before you could though, your racing mind packed up and let your body, your mouth to be precise, act without supervision.
“Not trying to impress the ladies then, huh?”
His tiny sheepish smile cut off the uprising panic in your chest when you realized how bold of you was to say that. He lowered his gaze, giving a subtle shrug. “Guess I wouldn’t want one falling for guy’s muscles and a show-off of dominance.”
“What for then? Honesty? Sincerity? Kind eyes? Strong moral compass?” you heard yourself prying, internally horrified how far you had come when saying that. Your face was drained of colour when it clicked. You were literally naming things you liked about him, absolutely shamelessly putting them in the open. Oh shit. Fix it, fix it, fix it! “…the sass?”
His eyes went wide and he burst out laughing so loud it startled you for a second, especially as he threw his head back with the outburst. Then you reluctantly joined him, covering your face with your hands in embarrassment.
“The sass!” he howled, unable to hold back another fit of laughter and when you peeked at him through between your fingers, you saw his palm resting against his chest as if it could help him stop laughing.
Just like that, blood rushed back into your cheeks.
“Oh god, I made it worse!” you cried out, wishing for the earth to swallow you, frantically looking around for the fastest escape route. “Oh my god, I have to switch schools now… excuse me-“
You hastily got up from your seat, but a quick hand snatched yours, pulling you back.
You stumbled, landing ungracefully right back in your place, this time without the blanket. Captain Rogers was watching you with the corners of his lips high, his eyes sparkling with amusement.
“Sorry for grabbing you like that. But no, please. Stay.”
Your throat closed off when you heard his soft plea, only traces of humour in it. Yeah, you bet he hadn’t met anyone with such big mouth for a while, so he thought it was better to keep the comic around.
“Captain Rogers, I-I- what I said, it was completely out of line-“ you stuttered, only to be interrupted.
“Were you making it up?” he questioned.
You gulped, your mind screaming at you to say yes to save you the humiliation. And yet, with the cerulean irises staring into your eyes, your mouth did the exact opposite.
“No.”
Dammit.
“Then why would you go?” he questioned softly. His hand still didn’t leave yours, only easing the grip into a kinder one. You felt like a brand was being burned into your skin. A pleasant one, so you didn’t retreat. Oh, you’d never. But what on Earth was he getting at? “We need someone honest like you. People who stand up for others, even if only to defend their honour. That is the kind of people who should be in this line of work. The good ones.”
You opened your mouth, no sound coming out as his speech shook you to your core, tickling your stomach pleasantly along with your pride. His words seemed to be coming from heart, genuine, which was not helping your blood pressure and suddenly wobbling limbs.
“Even when they have potty mouth and put their foot in it? ‘Cause I seem to excel in that.”
“Especially then,” he chuckled and you could tell there was no pinch of a lie in it.
Something was in the air, crackling deliciously, and you liked it. You wouldn’t be able to describe it properly, the feeling simply too unique, but it was tickling your fancy so weren’t about to complain.
“O-okay. Thank you, Captain,” you whispered, revelling in the sight of the gentle curve of his lips.
“You started with the compliments, Agent.”
And just like that, you wanted to run for your life again, drowning in embarrassment.
What were you even still doing here? Complimenting him? Enjoying his touch? Flirting with him?
Were you nuts?!
Him, a captain— no, the captain. And you, an agent--- hell, you were not even an agent yet!
The captain whose eyes flickered to not-an-agent’s lips for the shortest of moments, widening a fraction before returning to her eyes.
Oh, now you were definitely going nuts. You were hallucinating. You must have hit your head too. He wasn’t into you and you being into him was very stupid.
You should go.
…any moment now.
…just get off your ass for god’s sake-
“Can I ask you something?”
You blinked yourself back to reality, shushing the voice in your head, curious smile appearing on your lips involuntarily. The softness of his voice felt better than the blanket before and you wanted to cocoon yourself in it, postponing the leaving plans to never.
“Sure,” you replied, the smile remaining on your face despite your better judgement.
He lowered his eyes to your joined hands, his thumb running over the back of your hand in a feather-light touch. You heart positively stopped at the moment, your breath hitching. Holy shit, what was he doing?
“This, does it… do you hate it?” he whispered the question, not meeting your eyes as if he was too shy, which was… ridiculous. He had no reason to be shy.
It still felt like a shot through your heart – a nice one, though, it that was possible. The words combined with the way they were spoken, it stirred something in your belly, warming it up and you couldn’t deny it anymore.
You really wanted this man; whatever this was, it was getting beyond a silly crush. Also, for some reason, it seemed as if he was trying to tell you he was interested too, which you thought was pretty freaking crazy.
“Stay honest, please,” he pleaded when you didn’t answer right away.
Did you hate it? The chastest display of affection if you dared to call it that? Your mind raced, trying to figure out why on earth he would ask that. Because the only reason you had come up with so far was completely impossible.
“No,” you said simply, earning a brief glance up before he looked down again. His Adam’s apple bobbed.
“Good. That’s good… and would you… I’m aware this is out of line and I—I want you to answer truthfully without fearing the consequences-…“
It was your turn to swallow loudly, because what? What did he want to ask that he considered it out of line? He was your superior – you could think of thousand ways of how you could get out of line, but him? And why should you fear the consequences?! Did he want you to help him to hide a body?
That’s not it and you know it. You know what he wants to ask, you rational side admonished you.
Oh please, shut up. Since when you switched sides?
“O-okay. What— what is it-- Steve?” you stuttered out, freezing when his name left your lips and his head snapped up, his hand giving yours a squeeze. Oh boy.
“Would you possibly say you like it?” he blurted out and your brain went to overdrive at the hope behind his expression.
Huh. He really just asked that. Oh shit. Oh wow. Your jaw fell into your lap – only figuratively, you hoped –, your ears buzzing, your blood bursting in excitement.
Oh yeah, you understood why he mentioned the consequences. Either you could say no and you’d fear he might treat you differently or you could say yes and you’d ‘fear’ he might treat you differently.
The fire in your insides burned hotter at the idea of the latter.
His hand slowly left yours, giving you a simple choice you still couldn’t believe you were given.
Holy shit. What do you even say to something like that? Coming from someone like him? Your brain froze as you only managed to stare.
Did his— did the corners of his lips turn down? Was that sadness pooling in the sea of blue of his eyes?
Oh no, you don’t.
“Y-yes,” you admitted sheepishly, closing your eyes at the heaviness of your confession.
You could feel the weight on your shoulders as silence fell, only interrupted by your soft breathing that sounded ominously loud.
Your fingers twitched when his warm palm covered them again, your lips parting in surprise. You kept your eyes closed, indulging the strange moment. His free hand caressed your other as well, the gentlest of touches, tender, contrasting with rough callouses on his fingers.
“I like it too.”
At that, you gathered enough courage to look at him, only to see him inspecting your face closely, observing your reactions. It shocked you that it wasn’t uncomfortable as you would expect; must have been the kindness and wonder in his gaze. You forced your lips to curl up in a tiniest smile. Steve smiled back with same hesitance, his face lighting up.
He looked like a boy next door (making it to a modelling agency), shining eyes and happy grin forming on his lips. He was more gorgeous than ever.
Still keeping your hands, he raised his right one, his knuckles brushing your unharmed cheek. The gesture was so tender it brought tears into your eyes, causing him quickly retreat.
“Sorry-“
You shook your head with a self-deprecating chuckle, squeezing his fingers before he could let go of you completely.
“It’s not you—I mean… it is you,” you babbled nonsensically, taking a breath to gather your thoughts. “It’s just— that was really sweet. No, that’s not-“ Not the right word. “It was beautiful. I swear I never felt so…” loved “-cared for in my life.”
He frowned, a shadow of pain running over his face. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I know that today was… unpleasant.”
Seeing his reluctance and discomfort, you went for the first thing that came up to your mind. You straightened up and pressed a light kiss on his cheek, withdrawing much slowly because once you were in his orbit, it was hard to leave.
His breath hitched, his eyes glued to you intently, flickering to your lips again.
“You didn’t upset me, Steve. That’s the last thing you could do with that,” you assured him, face still inches from his. His name rolled off your tongue easily this time, even though it still left your heart fluttering.
“And if I asked you to have dinner with me?”
Your stomach twisted in a pleasant knot at that suggestion, your lizard brain already thinking about having a dessert for a second; and you weren’t thinking cake or ice-cream.
Yeah, barely. This was a guy ready to treat you right, you were sure of it. He certainly wasn’t about to kiss you now, not afar what happened today, he might go for it after the dinner and that was only if you got lucky enough. You swallowed the disappointment at the idea, quickly shaking it off.
Make up your goddamn mind, woman. You should be glad that men who weren’t thinking with their lower brain still existed and one of those was clearly interested in you, which… yeah, what the hell, that might take a while getting used to. Add the fact that he was being incredibly considerate of how you might feel after being assaulted and you had a winner of your heart. You realized you were actually happy he wouldn’t try anything even nearly ‘funny’.
You were fine with hand-holding and brushes of his fingers on your face, which honestly, the tenderness behind that gesture made you toes curl. You didn’t care much if that made you a freaking sap.
“Still not upset,” you gave an answer at last, deciding he probably liked when you were a bit cheeky.
He offered a closed lipped smile in response, confirming your theory.
“Does that count like a yes?”
You shrugged, the corners of your lips twitching. You had no idea when the change had happened, but all you wanted now was to giggle. And maybe snuggle, but you weren’t about to say that out loud.
“You tell me.”
He licked his lips and shook his head as he retreated. Before you could protest – or have a heart attack, because the motion of his tongue attracted your gaze like a magnet, setting your core on fire –, he sat beside you, leaving enough space in case you didn’t like it.
You liked it, subtly moving an inch closer to his side. Damn, he radiated warmth. Maybe just a bit closer…?
“Cheeky dame, aren’t you?” Steve more stated than asked, reaching for the blanket pooled around you to cover you again.
You didn’t realize you had goosebumps before his hands gently tugged you in, careful not to touch you where you could consider it inappropriate.
Yeah, forget about any funny business any time soon.
You huffed. “Clearly. It did get me into trouble before.”
His eyes darkened a bit, his face noticeably falling.
No, nope, bad move, miss not-an-agent.
“I should walk you back to your dorm,” he remarked, already rising to his feet.
You first reaction was to say no, because you weren’t ready to say goodbye yet. Your second was to say no also, because Shauna probably still had her hot date.
Instead, your hand shot up to catch his, effectively stopping him. He froze before returning to his seat, tiny question mark in a place of his face right next to his soft smile.
You cleared your throat, deciding to give him the latter reason.
“Uhm… my roommate has a date. If I go there, I’ll probably find a sock on the doorknob,” you admitted, biting your lip when he raised an eyebrow and relaxed to the cushions.
“People still do that?”
You chuckled, the fact that not only he was a captain, but also Captain America, which meant he was about hundred years old, hitting you like a train.
“Yeah, people still do that,” you assured him, amused.
He pouted, which you found unfairly adorable and… kissable. Nope, later.
“Sure, make fun of the old man…” he uttered, but a spark of laughter lighted up in his irises, so you assessed he wasn’t too offended. He was most likely used to the teasing.
As an idea of interpreting his words differently popped in your mind, you grinned.
“Is that a permission to make fun of Sergeant Barnes?” you pried playfully, sending Steve into another surprised fit of laughter, not unlike when you had complimented his sass. Your heart swelled at the joyful picture of him and the prospect of seeing more of it in future.
Due to his laughter, you didn’t hear he knock on the door if there was any n the first place. The door simply swung open, revealing the other supersoldier. Speak of the Devil…
Seeing his friend, Steve burst out laughing once more. Sergeant Barnes closed the door with a puzzled look.
You just shrugged in response, opening your mouth without a sound coming out and he took in the scene in front of him again, a smirk appearing on his lips. Under that gaze, you felt your face heat up. You could only imagine how that looked like, Steve cosily close to you, laughing, your hand right next to his thigh as his outburst had sent it sliding from his hand.
The smirk on the supersoldier’s face only deepened when he noticed how flustered he had made you.
“Punk?” he questioned and Steve wheezed once more, raising a palm in the sergeant’s direction, turning to you first.
He offered you a hand to shake. Confused, you accepted as his eyes twinkling in mischief bored into yours.
“Deal,” he mouthed, sending your lips twitching, and only then he shifted his attention to his friend. “Buck?”
The supersoldier had his eyes narrowed, watching you suspiciously.
“I’m gonna regret sending you with her instead of doing it the other way around, aren’t I?” he stated, not actually asking as his gaze flickered between the two of you.
His expression pushed you over the edge and the giggle building up in your chest for the last few minutes finally broke free. You simply couldn’t contain it anymore despite having two superiors in the room. Steve gave you a warm smile as the sound left your lips, clearly not bothered by it.
You hoped you’d be forgiven by Sergeant Barnes as well. After all, you were just human.
“Yeah, Buck, I think you are.”
S.R. masterlist
Sorry for the cavities at the end. Or should I say ‘you’re welcome’? Whatever works for you :))
Thank you for reading!
#fanfiction#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers x you#steve rogers imagine#mcu#marvel#shield#shield recruit reader#steve rogers fanfiction#steve rogers fanfic#captain america fanfiction#steve rogers#captain america x you#captain america x reader#captain america imagine#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes#captain america#just a human#anika ann
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EP 7! I'm going through these fast but would really be faster if I don't pause to take notes.
I'll cut back a little here I'm sure
Not to be that person but u literally called ekko out in his first appearance. I'd remind you I don't know shit about league, no context or frame of reference, just piecing this together as we go.
Ok I love the bat boy.
And ekko of course. He's adorbs
Lmao I love found family.
Was this fucker called singed before he got uhh.. singed?
Sorry but I like my scientists twinkish. Once more Jayce fails to impress
Probably similar feelings to what Mel had during their tryst.
But ok muscle animation is good
Jinxs knows what shes doin, u heard it here first folx.
She really is a little devil on his shoulder.
Jfhsjfnxnfn
I love Mel.
Silco needs a fuckin nap and once more SEVIKA IS NOT BEING PAID ENOUGH.
She needs a spa day. Or a brothel day, her choice.
I'm very glad the main villain of this show is a cute twink
Actually he's not even really a villain tho. He's doing bad shit but his goal is fairly noble. I like how morally grey everyone is, how complex they are.
Man that was a perfectly good cigar. Take it with you.
Silco takes parenting advice? God I love him.
Therapy. Just. Therapy
"is that a real tree" babies.
I appreciate Vi's candor about saving powder but ekko really is the only one who can see what's up. Powder is kinda there but jinx is who she is now.
MAYBE THERAPY WOULD HELP.
Ok but
What is happening to Viktor? Asside from non specific cough disease?
Jayce is dumb as fuck if he can't see that he caused this riot. It's not action, it's REaction.
I like silcos lil fidgit dance in the elevator. Even sevika is like " you good?"
This gold jaw man finna get stabbed
Lmao FINNa
So they all worked in the mines as kids? Mining what????
Why doesn't this gas affect silco?
Damn silco spiting bile here.
Yet another meeting that could have been an email.
I want names for those fucks. Tell me who they are
I like eloras tiny stray hairs
Ok I love watching silco hesitate with his meds. He didn't even flinch when jinx did it but he doesn't want to cause himself pain
PIKABOO
ok I know silco loves jinx but he's clearly also afraid of her
Silco these lies will b your undoing
I am BEGGING you to take her to therapy. Even kids therapy with the puppets is a start, jinx would love that.
Of course it's the fuckin children who have to fix these adults messes
Ok Viktor, ekko and maybe Cait are the only sensible level headed people in this world.
I don't like this tense music
VIKTOR!
oh is uh.
This when jinx gets uh...flattened.
THIS IS CINIMATIC ART
Wowie
No one person has said ' jinx you need help' and that worries me.
Ok I can't watch this fight in this style BC it's hurting my head but I love tha stills from it!
Jinx no!
Oops so much for cutting back. Sorry I just have a lot of thoughts and no sense to record my reactions on a camera or something. Usually I can read these back and be like 'oh hono remember that lol' so I hope I've given enough detail to do that
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Mom’s Naughty Urge conclusion
CHAPTER TEN
"Are you boys ready to try something new?" Jessica smiled.
"Sure, Mom!" Rob and Bob said almost in unison.
"Would you like to fuck me in the ass?" she asked sweetly.
"You mean fuck you from behind like Jon just did?" Rob asked.
"No, darling. I want you to fuck me right here, right in my asshole," she said, reaching behind her and spreading the cheeks of her butt.
"Gosh, Mom. Can we do that? I mean, uh, wouldn't it hurt?" Rob asked.
"Of course it will, Rob. But I'm sure I'll enjoy it if you're gentle with me," she said, pressing her fingertip against her shit-chute.
"But... uh... that's an awful small hole, Mom. How could my dick go in there?" Bob asked, staring at the swollen prick that stuck up from his lap.
"It might take some stretching first, Bob... I think Rob can help with that. His cock isn't quite as big as yours. Rob, would you like to try stretching my little asshole a bit?"
"Sure, Mom. If that's what you want," he agreed.
"I'll just bend over like this, lover. Now you step up behind me and push your hard-on against my little asshole like a good boy."
Her asshole tightened when she felt his hot dickhead pressing up against it. The heat of her son's swollen cock soaked into her, helping her asshole loosen up a bit. She tried to relax the muscles of her asshole, tried to let her son into her where he head never been before. She knew how she would enjoy the feeling of hard cock in her ass. She had loved taking her husband's dick up her ass, had loved the stretching sensation and even the pain it caused her. It would be even more stimulating now, now that she had three boys to fill every hole in her sexy body. Now she could have a cock in her cunt, in her ass, and in her mouth at the same time.
Rob pressed his rod against her shit-hole as hard as he could, flexing the muscles of his ass and poking his dick against her, but it was in vain. Her tight asshole refused to let him in spite of her efforts.
"I can't get it in, Mom," he said.
"Maybe you should try your finger first, darling," she whispered, having no intention of giving up so easily.
Rob replaced his dick with his finger, pressing his fingertip against her and twisting it slightly. She told him to spit on his finger. He did as he was told and finally his finger began to go into her ass.
"It's goin' in, Mom!" Rob said excitedly.
"Oh God! I know, Rob!" Jessica gasped, feeling a searing pain when his finger pushed into her.
"Am I hurtin' you, Mom?" he asked.
"You're not hurting me, Rob. My God! It's been so long since a man has done this to me," she whimpered. "Move your finger in and out, Rob. Be gentle with me."
Rob finger-fucked his mother's asshole for a while, loosening it slowly until she thought she might be ready to take something longer and thicker.
"Try your cock again, lover," she said, her asshole quivering. "Is it nice and slippery? Oh yes. That's just right."
"Do you think I can make it go in, Mom?" he asked.
"I certainly hope so, Rob. I need that big dick up my ass. I've been waiting so long for it," she breathed, longing for the feeling of stretching and rubbing in her tight ass.
Rob bucked his ass up against her, but got nowhere. Jessica told him to take his cock in his hand and move the head of it against her asshole with his fingers. He obeyed, wiggling his swollen cockhead and pushing on it with all his might.
"Jon, darling, why don't you run down to the bathroom and bring us a jar of Vaseline? It might help considerably," Jessica suggested.
Jon jumped up and ran down the hall, returning with the jar in a flash. Jessica dipped into the jar and reached behind her to rub a gob of the slippery jelly over her tight shit-hole. She managed to get her finger into her tight ring, slickening her inner passage. She rubbed some of the lubricant on the swollen organ that she wanted inside her. Rob's body shook each time her loving fingers stroked the heard head of his cock. He was horny beyond belief, and Jessica intended to keep him that way.
"Now, lover, that should do it. Stick it in me. Fuck my ass until I tell you to stop. Don't be afraid of hurting me. I'm so hot for it now, so hot. Fuck me!" she cried, backing against her son's rigid dick.
Rob didn't really expect his cock to go in so easily, but it did. He pushed it against her ass-ring for a second and he was inside her. He felt her hole grasping and holding his rod in a viselike grip. It held his cock much more tightly than her cunt had. It was a different sensation, but a pleasurable one.
Jessica gasped in pleasure and pain when her son's dick pushed beyond her tight barrier. She had expected his cock to hurt a bit when he first shoved it into her, but she had had no idea that his prick would feel so huge in her ass.
"Gently, Rob. Wait, darling. Don't move it yet, lover," she said.
Jessica rested her hands on her ankles and breathed deeply until she thought her asshole was ready to accept some movement on Rob's part. She knew that it was awfully hard for him to just stand there with his cock up his mother's ass without doing anything to gratify himself. She knew that his instincts told him to lunge forward and shove his lust-hardened dick into her ass and out again until he shot off in her.
"I think I'm ready now, Rob. Move it inside me now, lover. Slowly at first," she said, holding her breath as her son began sinking his rod deeper into her ass.
Jessica was glad that she hadn't chosen Bob or Jon to fill her asshole first. Both boys were much too huge between their legs for her to accept them into her long neglected chute. Just the thought of taking Jon's huge rod inside her almost made her faint.
Rob pushed up against his mother's tight grasping ass until his cock was buried in her all the way to his balls. He felt her full womanly asscheeks warm and soft against his hard groin. He reached out and let his hands fall on her back, stroking her gently as he began punching his cock in and out of her butthole. He felt as if his dick were being squeezed by a warm hand in a velvet glove. His balls ached with pure pleasure.
"In and out, lover. Fuck my ass. Rob! This is heavenly. Screw your mother's butt," she whimpered, going wild with naked desire.
Rob took her whimpers of delight as a signal to fuck her harder and faster. He couldn't control himself now. His dick needed to rub hard and fast against her tight ass-tunnel. His balls needed to feel the warmth of her flesh as they slapped up against her. He let himself go, rocking back and forth against her, driving his cock in and out of her with the speed and power of a pile driver. And all the while his brothers watched.
Jessica sensed that Rob enjoyed showing off his newly discovered talent for butt-fucking. It was something that Bob and Jon hadn't tried yet. Jessica also knew that her audience was enjoying the show immensely. Jon's cock was hard and ready again, even though he had already shot his wad again and again that night. Bob was also as horny as hell. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, his muscles tight, ready to spring to his feet and join in the hot activities.
The lusty mother's cunt was dripping with excitement. She was having the time of her life. She was surrounded by boys who wanted nothing more than to satisfy her lusty urges, and their own. Sue had to let all her boys into the act. It wasn't enough to let them merely watch her getting fucked.
"Oh, Rob! That feels so good! It's so big and hard inside me! Your cock never felt so big!" she moaned as he pistoned her asshole.
"Does that feel good, man?" Bob asked his butt-fucking brother.
"Shit yeah! It's wild! Tight! You... you gotta try this some time. Maybe she'll let you."
"How about it, Mom? Can... can I try it too? Please?" Bob asked.
"Yeah! I wanna try it too, Mom. How 'bout it?" Jon asked, putting his hands on his legs and showing her his cock. "See, Mom. I'm hard again."
"But you boys are too big. Perhaps later. But my pussy is just itching with excitement. I'm so hot, so fucking hot! Come and lick my cunt! Bob, darling, lick me and make me even hotter!" she moaned, beckoning her son toward her.
Bob jumped up and got between her legs, burying his handsome face into her seething cunt. He could see his kid brother's nuts swinging as he rammed his stiff dick in and out of her asshole. The taste of his mother's juicy cunt drove him wild.
"Will you suck me off, Mom?" Jon asked, standing and presenting his dick to her.
"Of course, lover. Crouch down a bit, darling. Give me that big fat dick. It's so delicious," she cooed.
When her son's cock was close enough the hot assed woman reached out and took it in her loving hands. She drew his prick close to her face, blowing her sweet moist breath over his swollen knob and then closing her lips around the head of his cock. She sucked him hard, eagerly taking every hard inch of him down her throat. He moved in and out of her so hard that only with the greatest of difficulty did she avoid choking on his huge cock.
Bob busily lapped at his mother's dripping cunt while she sucked his brother's dick and took his brother's prick up her ass. She was being worked into a frenzy of fuck-lust by her three sons. She wanted to fuck all night.
"Goddam, Mom! Your ass is tight and hot up there! Wow! This sure is great stuff to do!" the Rob rasped as he punched his hard-on in and out of her sucking ass.
"Suck that dick, Mom! Oh fuck! Suck the cum out of the fucker! You sure do it great! Suck me!" Jon grunted, gyrating his pelvis and moving his dick in a tight circle inside her mouth and throat.
Bob flicked his tongue over her blazing clit, nibbling her cuntlips too. Her juices flowed freely, covering his lips. Her cunt was wildly intoxicating. The scent and luscious taste of her cunt was enough to make his head reel with pure delight. The air was filled with the sounds of fucking and sucking, little cries of delight from Jessica's lips, wet slurping sounds from between her legs, grunts of pleasure from her three boys. All four were hornier than they had ever been, and they all knew that this was only the beginning of their new and beautiful sexual relationship.
"I'm gonna shoot it, Mom!" Jon rasped, his nuts tightening between his striving legs. "Get ready for this, Mom! I'm gonna fill your face with cream! Take it! Take that stuff! Drink it all down! You're gonna love it!"
Jessica thrilled to the sound of her son's voice. He had changed from a shy boy to a bold man who knew what he wanted and knew that he could get it. She knew that he was learning all the time and was enjoying each piece she gave him better than the last. She prepared to swallow the hot spurts of cum that was to signal his nut-busting orgasm.
Jessica almost strangled when, her son shot her sucking throat full of hot jism. She felt a hot shot blasting against the back of her throat, a hot shot that was followed by another and another and another. He seemed to have an endless supply of cum in his heavy balls. The cock-hungry mother drank it up thirstily, coughing and sputtering all the while. When she had sucked him dry she pulled her lips off his dick and smiled up at him.
"Just delicious, Jon darling," she said, licking her lips. "I just love the way you fuck my face."
"Mom, you can suck me any time. Damn! That was the greatest! I'm never gonna jack off again," Jon breathed.
"I'm gonna shoot it too, Mom!" Rob said, pounding her asshole in a hot frenzy. "Is it all right? Can I come in your ass?"
"Yesssssss! Dick me! Shoot it up my ass! Fill me with it!" she cried, her tits shaking with the force of his thrusts.
Jessica's cunt was near the flash point, on fire with lust. Bob sucked her tits, fastening his lips around the little bud of flesh and working away at it just the way his mother had taught him. She suddenly wanted a cock in her cunt, wanted to feel a rigid post sawing away against the bud of her tingling clitoris.
"Sit down, Rob. Yes, darling. I want you to sit on the floor. I'll sit on your lap and you can keep fucking me. Be careful, lover. Don't let it pull out of me. That's right. Wonderful," she said, spreading her legs when they had completed the maneuver. "I want you to fuck my cunt, Bob. Get between my legs and shove that dick up my cunt."
Bob did as he was told, falling on her and ramming his distended dick up her juicy gash. He could feel his brother's plug of flesh inside her too, kicking and straining. He began pumping her pussy wildly. He had to shoot his wad quickly. He was too horny to wait for further instructions. Sucking her cunt and drinking her free-flowing pussy juice had made his balls ache for release.
"I love it! A dick in my ass and a dick in my cunt!" she cried, her body rocking back and forth and bouncing up and down at the same time. "Fuck me, boys! Fuck my ass and cunt! Fuck your mother! Come in me!"
"Yeah! Yeah, Mom! This is crazy wild! Take them dicks! Take 'em!" Jon growled. "Fuck her, you guys!"
"I... I'm coming! Oh God! Fuck me! I'm commmminnnnnggggg!" she cried in a shrill voice as her cunt flashed with pleasure.
Jessica seethed with delight, her pussy flashing with electricity as she came. Her ass was filled with hard dick and shooting cum. Bob's cock suddenly snapped up even stiffer inside her cunt. She felt him filling her seething cunt with thick cum.
The four horny fuckers fell together in a warm embrace. When her sons' dicks pulled free of her ass and cunt she reached out and held them in her silky hands, fondling them gently as her sons kissed her naked body. Jessica had never felt so much at peace with herself. She no longer felt afraid of sex. Her sons had been gentle with her, as gentle as her husband had been. She wanted her sons to fuck her again and again, and she knew that there would be no end to the fun they could have together. She even thought about exploring the possibility of introducing Dale into their little circle. Now that the boys had loosened her up there was no need to deny him what he wanted so badly.
"Are we all happy, boys?" Jessica asked.
"One happy family!" they shouted in unison.
THE END
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The Day Gatlon Fell
(TW: VIOLENCE)
IT’S VALENTINE’S DAY AFSGHJAFSGHJA. I should’ve done something nice but I don’t seem to be physically capable of doing that, sO IF YOU WOULD BE SO KIND TO PLEASE FORGIVE ME AFGSHAFGHAJ. I guess from the title it’s...kinda clear what this is all about, because I like to write about my imaginary complex relationships in Renegades. Yet, I wrote it with love and I hope you like it :’)
This fic is actually a present for those who want to accept it (If you don’t, I understand tbh). But I’m going to dedicate it for the ones who constantly pretend they tolerate me and like my writing, which are my fellow Reneweys: @healing-winston-pratt @obsidianfr3sk @alecjamesartino @nodrianbcyes @everyone-has-a-nightmare . I love you guys SO much. Thanks for being a safe space full of people who share the same mother tongue and laugh at my stupid jokes.
Also @all-weather-is-bad whom I love very much. Thank you for tolerating me to :’) <3 and @ifyouhadntbutyoudid bECAUSE FELLOW LATINA <3 (also your art for HCTTR still makes me cry and I know you like Leroy).
And idk if this matters or not, but, for the ones who understand Spanish, this fic was heavily based upon this (yes, the contemporary dance and everything don’t judge me: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RaaVpaE1XGA
Alec called them the Anarchists, because he called himself Ace Anarchy. And, in a world where prodigies were hurt, mistreated and killed, he also called them hope.
Hope called themselves the Anarchists, and they reunited at the outskirts of the city, and then they marched towards Gatlon when it was still dawning. There were many, many of them, creating a huge mass of people. Some of them were only wearing masks in order to protect their identity, but others, like them, the main circle of Anarchists, were in full costume, including Alec, Ace Anarchy, who was marching at the back of the crowd, for Alec Artino had faked his disappearance (and possible assassination) less than two weeks ago.
As an act of symbolism (in Alec’s own words) the Queen Bee was at the lead, while him, Leroy (Cyanide), stood two steps behind her, with Gerard Hoffman, Atomic Brain, at his right, and Lincoln Palmer, Brimstone, at his left. Behind them were Dexter Hartley, Rat, and the Thompsons. Then, everything was too much, and there were too many people to name them all, when he barely remembered his own name at the moment.
Every distance looked moderately short until you had to travel it by foot, or when you were too anxious to arrive at your destination. Leroy, personally, didn’t consider himself to be anxious per se. At least, that wasn’t the word he would’ve used to describe his situation.
For the first time in forever, Leroy’s mind was making too much noise, and he didn’t know how to make it stop, nor did he know how to decipher what it was trying to say to him. While he marched, Leroy was surrounded by sounds. There were the distant, faint movements of the awakening city, the ring of keys, the dragging of boots, the hasty breaths, the silent prayers, Honey humming to an inexistent melody, while her dress danced to her voice, hanging from her body.
Honey was easily one of the best dressed out of the bunch, which was a very typical Honey attitude from her part. The most meaningful thing in his own costume was the lab coat and the scientific pun, but it was more than enough for him, knowing that, after today, many of the people here wouldn’t be alive anyway, and he wasn’t even sure whether he would make it, either.
By the time they started reaching the city’s main entrance, the sun was covering half of their bodies, announcing they might have “nice” (hot) weather today. For a while, at least. And the heat was so extreme it made Leroy’s temple sweat, as well as the rest of his face, behind the mask. However, he resisted the urge to remove it, as his mind started making too much noise again, when it forced him to remember Alec’s words.
“And, remember, that you are the pain, you are the fire, and I am the courage.” He said, while they were sitting around the campfire, one messy night, running away from the police. “Because courage comes from the same place as fear.”
Leroy didn’t agree with some of Alec’s ways. Hell. He really didn’t. Nevertheless, he was also aware of his own position. He was aware he was a prodigy, and he was aware people were exhausting.
Even before he became…special, people were already picking on him. Leroy had been a punching bag the entirety of his life. First, for being too ordinary.
There was always a defect they could find in him.
When he admitted his father had abandoned his mother not long after he was born, he became the fatherless kid who wasn’t important enough to make his father stay (as if his father being an asshole had been his fault); when his mother met Claire, his other mother, he became the outcast who lived with two insane and sick women who dared to say they were in a serious, romantic relationship (even though they were evidently in love); when he discovered he enjoyed science, he became the weird kid who liked Thursdays, because that’s when Mr. Ruiz used to take them to the lab; when he discovered he was good at school overall and teachers offered him to move him one grade ahead, he became the ugly, creepy and fat nerd kid who lived with dykes and had no life.
And so, Leroy was murdered by his classmates in eleventh grade, in the lab. And when he came back as a prodigy, he became the burden. The fucker. The freak. The disgusting prodigy who should’ve stayed dead.
Because, when it came to people, it was never enough.
It really was never enough.
When they didn’t like you, there wasn’t a limit they wouldn’t reach in order to let you know. They hated you when you were too ordinary, but they hated you more when you were extraordinary.
Being a prodigy meant being your own fight. It meant being out there, in a minefield where everybody was chasing after you, and nobody stopped to help. People were often afraid of the things they couldn’t understand.
But courage came from the same place as fear.
And it was a dark, messed up place that, in the rare cases where it didn’t drive you crazy, it ended up killing you.
Alec’s ideas were extreme and a little twisted, even, but nobody had ever seemed to care as much as he did, and Leroy had to give him that.
He strongly defended that, if nobody did, then there would be a time where somebody would have to, and he had to give him that too. Because, one day, he just decided that person would be him. Because, if not him, then who?
“I’m my own fight. We’re all our own fight. And you should just face that and shut your ass, before you get killed.” Leroy told him the day after he personally met him, when Honey called him, saying the wound in his calf had gotten uglier and he was banned from the majority of the hospitals in the city. At first, Leroy didn’t know why that should’ve been a matter of concern to him, but he ended up showing him at the apartment anyway. When he realized Alec hadn’t learned anything from the previous experience and was already planning the next riot, he felt the burning desire to cauterize him out of spite.
So Leroy cauterized him, with no previous warning. Alec screamed so loud he thought he was going to pass out. But when he was done, Alec thanked him, because, sure, he had nearly fainted thanks to the pain, but the wound was closed and no longer bleeding.
“I won’t get killed.” Alec declared, as if he were some type of almighty god. “But if I do, it will be defending my place and my rights. You say we’re all our own fight. Correct. But, as prodigies, we have to stick together.”
“And why is that, exactly?”
“Because somebody has to fight for us.”
“You want to fight for us.”
“I want us to fight for us.”
At that moment, Honey came into the room, carrying a tray with a steaming cup and a plate with French toast with honey.
“They can’t kill us all.” She said.
“Oh, but they can.”
Before she could answer, Alec spoke again.
“Then how come we’re still here?”
As the hours, days, weeks and months went by, Leroy, beneath all his cynicism and incredulity, realized he cared. And, once he was invested in the cause, he decided he cared enough to believe them.
They couldn’t kill them all, but they could kill some of them. Yet, they would die caring and believing, and defending their legitimate right to having lived in the first place. There were some things they couldn’t take back, but there were others they could stop them from taking away.
Because somebody had to.
And, if nobody wanted to fight for them, then they had to be their own fight.
Leroy had already gone down once, and that was the reason why he was willing to do it again if necessary. There were Alecs out there, who had been born prodigies and judged, mistreated and pointed at because of it; there were Honeys out there, who had suffered from fatidic accidents that had left a mark in them forever; there were Leroys out there, who had been bullied for not being a prodigy, but also for being one.
As long as he was alive, there would be no more Leroys. No more Honeys, either. No more Alecs.
They were their own fight, but they were also each other’s fight.
So, as they marched towards the city, they were carrying tons and tons of weight, even from the pain that didn’t belong to them. Even from pain that had already been silenced.
Silenced like the inert body of a murdered prodigy.
Silenced like the city the moment they saw them come.
Needless to say, they were coming in with previous instructions to show no mercy in case anything went wrong, knowing these people had already been attacked right at the heart of their system (their mayor), but when they saw them walk, they showed no resistance to let them through.
Gatlon City met the Anarchists in a moment that remained suspended into the air, while some of them dispersed to block the entrances and exits, and others stood in the middle of the traffic, creating a human wall that prevented the cars from moving forward.
Traffic lights exploded, as well as display screens, just like the days when authorities were trying to censor a violent riot. Doors became locked, just like the days when citizens were being notified of a group of violent prodigies marching through the city, except this time citizens weren’t the ones locking themselves in. Telephone lines became cut, just like the days when they did that so agonizing prodigies wouldn’t say a last goodbye to their loved ones who lived far away.
They were many. Too many.
And they couldn’t kill them all.
When they realized that, panic started spreading among them.
Queen Bee was still taking the lead, but the lines began to become blurrier and blurrier with every second, as some of the prodigies had to leave the formation in order to silence those who dared to try to oppose.
Gatlon City was a bold, intimidating place, with huge buildings, blinding lights and overwhelmingly wide streets that could swallow you whole if you weren’t careful enough. Yet, it welcomed the Anarchists in a scene that was as surreal as it was fascinating. Out of a sudden, it seemed to shrink before them.
To the elemental prodigies’ hands, the sky started to look as if split in two, fragile and breakable like the green leaves hanging from the trees, which were swaying like Honey’s blonde curls that day at the beach.
It was a public music festival, which they had attended while the Thompsons babysat David, out of pure and classic peer pressure coming from Honey herself.
Leroy showed up late at the beach, after waking up from a seven hour nap (the result of not sleeping at night), given that, despite living together, Honey expressed she hadn’t woken him up because she thought it was only an excuse to stand them out.
Beneath the loud chattering, the live music and the crowding, their presence became as irrelevant as a single grain of sand before it was taken away by a wave, but they still managed to get a decent spot, where they could see the stage from the blanket they were using as seats.
Out of the few bucks they were carrying with them at the moment, they managed to gather enough for a bucket of fish and chips from the food trucks, so they sent Alec to go get it, which left Honey and Leroy alone (though surrounded by people) in the blanket.
It was about time she said something about it, but when she did, Leroy still felt the need to roll his eyes at her until they rolled out of his face.
“You’re the only two people I know who dress like that to come to the beach. It’s honestly embarrassing.”
She was referring to the fact Leroy was wearing jeans, sneakers and a black hoodie, while Alec was wearing jeans as well, and a black T-shirt he had gotten for free at an event in his faculty.
“What are you? A vampire or something?” Upon saying that, Honey got her hands in the cooler and took a can of lime flavored soda from it.
“I don’t like leaving the house without my hoodie.” Leroy responded above the clic and the hissing produced by the carbonation. “It hides my rolls.”
It’s not like Leroy was ashamed of his body. In fact, he didn’t give a damn about it, for he wasn’t one to take care of his physical appearance that much. Nevertheless, having people pointing out defects he already knew he had was annoying and an inconvenience he rather preferred not to go through.
“What are you trying to say to me?” Honey let out a screeching laugh, shaking her head to get her hair off her face, before taking a sip from her soda, very slowly, staring directly into Leroy’s eyes, with an arched eyebrow, not mad, but a little malicious and suggestive.
Whatever she was trying to do, it worked perfectly well, because Leroy could tell the exact part of his sentence where he had gone wrong and dug his own grave. Despite his efforts to conceal it and pretend he didn’t regret saying it, he still felt his face burn a little.
Honey was wearing a two-piece swimsuit that day. A yellow bikini top with white polka dots (“Hope you’re getting a great view because this is the only time you’ll ever see me wearing a bra” “You really are a hippie pothead” “So what?” “Honey Hippie Harper” “Great name, Lery”) and a tight, also yellow with polka dots skirt. The top had a huge white bow tie that fell all the way towards her stomach area, but it’s not like it covered much, and Honey wasn’t exactly the size of a Barbie doll herself (though everybody in Gatlon agreed that, somehow, she still managed to look like one).
Good thing her self-esteem was as high as Everest.
“You’re just jealous I’m so hot it feels like my entire body is catching flames while you look like a poor man’s Dracula.”
“Your lexicon is above the clouds today. Did you teach yourself how to read? And you read Dracula, just by chance?“
“You’re such a comedian. I’m dying. My lungs are aching from laughing so much.” Honey laughed sarcastically, in a flat tone, before taking another sip from her soda. “I had a pretty productive and nurturing self-teaching session yesterday.”
“I see.”
“I did teach myself how to read though, but, just so you know, I read Carmilla and not Dracula, because she came first.”
Being that said, she winked.
By that time, Honey didn’t attend as many feminist movements as before, nor did she lead them, but she still looked pretty invested in her cause and beliefs sometimes, and those were the moments when she looked more like herself.
“The more you know.” Leroy said, between his teeth.
Knowing she had won, Honey didn’t respond anything else on the matter, and reached for her sunglasses instead, putting them on. Then, she kept singing along to the song played by the band, about how the world was going to end soon.
Which was fitting for their current situation.
The entire world wasn’t ending today, but maybe it would, in case they succeeded. Leroy wasn’t the most positive person to have ever stepped on Earth, but, if one thing he knew, was that he was completely able to read and accept facts and get to the truth, and said truth was that Gatlon didn’t have much on its part. A bunch of regular citizens, against a bunch of prodigy citizens, whose mere existence was an advantage over them. And it’s not that Leroy thought prodigies were superior, but, objectively, prodigies could do things normal people couldn’t. That’s what made them prodigies in the first place, and it was part of the reason why they didn’t like them, too.
The terror in their faces made Leroy straighten his back. Above his head, he could already hear the helicopters and planes, both from the press and the government. Still standing in his place, he saw Honey stop. She didn’t hesitate or flinched, but she did stare directly at them. Her lips shimmered, as well as her eyes and the bee hanging from her neck, when the remaining morning sun reached and caressed them. Her expression remained serene, until it wasn’t, and her lips started arching into a sideways smile. With the whole crowd waiting behind her, Queen Bee clicked her tongue and giggled. Then, she waved at the sky, with her eyes grinning as well, behind the mask. Leroy could almost visualize the picture in a History book, in the chapter that talked about the day Gatlon fell.
When he took one step forward, he also saw himself in the frame. Honey, for sure, acknowledged his presence before she continued walking, squeezing his wrist a little, as a reassuring gesture he thought he didn’t need.
With two Anarchists at the lead, the weight of the protest became more evident, but the rest of the recruits were keeping them grounded. Flying prodigies were above their heads, keeping themselves at a prudent distance from the planes and helicopters, becoming an emergency signal for the others. They barked orders, so their companions knew where to aim.
The cocky individuals holding guns while standing in the sideway were attacked from behind and killed on spot. Some others didn’t have it that easy, for they were grabbed by extra arms or tentacles and smothered to death. Others were stabbed by flying pieces of glass or other sharp objects. And the one man who thought he was clever enough met Leroy’s palm, and while he tried not to step on his agonizing body (like Honey did) with a face now looking like a melted candle, he didn’t feel anything when he heard him wail in pain.
In fact, Leroy felt so blinded by adrenaline he couldn’t feel anything at all.
The only thing that managed to make him snap back into reality for a short while, was the warmth that later turned into almost unbearable heat and left them with a lack of oxygen for a short while.
Aracely Thompson, Dome, stepped forward and, with a stomp of her foot, translucent, golden chains rose from the ground, trapping the main Anarchists (plus Jerome and her) in a wide intangible circle, which chains melted into each other once the area was delimited, and turned into a see-through bubble. The ones from the outside could see them, but not hear or touch them, let alone harm them.
Leroy wondered why they hadn’t thought about that before, but he figured they had just thought about how Alec would manage just fine on his own at the back.
Fearless and merciless, they kept on walking the cracking pavement, through the growing chaos, trapped in their bubble with recycled air.
With the traffic suspended, the streets looked empty, as if naked. People had already gotten the message, and they were running like scared roaches, trying to get out of their way. Some were holding their children, some were holding their pets, and others were holding both.
“Where’s Ingrid?” Leroy asked in Honey’s ear, upon seeing a mother run away with her child, who looked around Ingrid’s age.
“At a daycare for single mothers…” Aracely was not a single mother (but she was only married through the eyes of religion. Jerome and her weren’t legally married, and, in theory, her name was still Aracely Brito, but she preferred to be called Thompson, and it was the only last name Ingrid had in her fake birth certificate) “In front of a lawyer firm by Trinity street. So, no matter what happens, don’t touch that building.”
They would have to warn Alec about it, or take Ingrid out before he could reach that daycare.
Some years ago, before Alec arrived to Gatlon, there had been an incident, where a daycare for prodigy children had been destroyed; it wasn’t considered legal, of course, and, through the eyes of the government, it didn’t exist. So, when they contacted the owners to ask them to close it and they refused, one of the gas tanks of the daycare conveniently exploded, resulting in a fire and the death of several prodigy children, which meant that, among a lot of other things, Alec would show no mercy for daycares for regular children. In other words, the entirety of daycares in Gatlon, including the one Ingrid was in.
Alec never forgot, nor did he forgive, and he had a wide knowledge in regards to the crimes Gatlon had committed against prodigies.
They continued on walking through the main street, which led to the main bridge, from which cars were falling like little ants. Nobody truly knew what Alec was planning to do, because he was as pragmatic as he was unpredictable, and the more you hung out with him, the looser the thread your life was hanging from became.
He just said Gatlon would fall.
And when he said something would happen, it usually happened.
Upon reaching the bridge, they were greeted by familiar faces, with familiar uniforms, who maybe thought this would be just another routine intervention. That they would be retouching a line they had already painted some time ago. That they had another chance.
There were uniformed men and women, some in cars, some in tanks, some in patrols, holding their guns and pointing at them, the ones who had made it into the bridge instead of staying in the fight below.
Leroy was starting to suspect a part of them knew it would be useless, because this time they weren’t giving them an option, but, still, in their eyes he could see they were desperate enough to try.
Due to the fact there were so many prodigies stepping on the bridge at once, the ground seemed to be buzzing, as well as the air, and the clouds, and the sky, and the life surrounding them, filled with the distant cries and the echoes of the ones they had lost in the way.
In that moment, when they had already arrived, Leroy drifted away.
He heard the bullets.
Bang, bang, bang.
It was a couple of months ago. They had just taken a government building with brute force, and they had locked it from the inside.
They stayed there for almost a week, until the police finally decided to cease fire and left the area. They had no food apart from some crackers and cheese sticks, they had no water (and no water elementals whatsoever), no electricity and no running water either. If that wasn’t bad enough on its own, some of them were injured or losing blood, and the bullets kept hitting the walls on the outside.
Bang, bang, bang.
Honey had always hated being unclean. Even when she wasn’t in the mood to take care of herself, she kept complaining about how much being dirty disgusted her. Hence, after two days, she sat in a corner and refused to move, until the day they were finally released. Everybody was at the verge of going crazy by then, and so, she decided to stand up and join Alec’s motivational speech about why they were doing this in the first place, in which Leroy was also involved.
Then, when it all went quiet, they just stayed there, with the question “Now what?” floating in the air.
One important part of Alec’s motto as a visionary, was reminding others that prodigies were people too. That they had rights. That they had feelings. That they had needs.
Honey, being herself, started singing Rivers of Babylon out of the blue, and while everybody in the room stared at her like she was crazy at first, suddenly, Alec started harmonizing with her, singing as loud as he did on Sundays, at Mass, dehydrated, hungry and everything.
Leroy just stepped aside, looking in the opposite direction, as if that would make everyone believe he didn’t know those two.
It was useless, because many people had already followed them by the second chorus.
Leroy still remembered the one line he had to drag out of his mouth when Honey placed the lipstick tube she was using as a fake microphone very close to his mouth, and everyone suddenly went silent, waiting for him.
“… When we remembered Zion…”
They went ballistic, almost as if they hadn’t been the ones to take this same building in the most violent way one could think about.
After two or three more cheesy songs that Leroy hated, there was a period of two or three minutes where nobody dared to take a turn in the invisible karaoke, and they realized there was something new there.
Absence.
There were no more bullets.
They were alone.
“I’m not very fond of Miss Harper’s taste in music.” Alec told him later that day, back at his apartment, where they had gone together to check on David and shower. “But it’s exactly what our revolution needs in its darkest times.”
“Because it’s obnoxious and loud?”
“No.” Alec told him, smiling sideways. “Because it’s vibrant. When choosing the head of a revolt, Leroy, everything’s about balance. You are serious, she is vibrant and I am versatile.”
“I thought we were talking about her music taste.”
“Are you implying that a person and their music taste aren’t deeply connected?”
That had been forever ago, compared to now, when the triggers were clicking loudly, and they were staring at their companions from sideways or from above.
Sirens screaming in the distance, along with the citizens. There was pain. There was death. There was blood. There were prodigies.
There was anarchy.
And through the confusion and anxiety, something started moving.
They started moving, at the sides, one by one, to let him through.
Now leading the crowd of Anarchists, stood Alec Artino, Ace Anarchy.
His costume was simple, with the boots, the pants, the navy blue sweater, with the golden A, the gabardine…
And the coppery helmet, made by David himself, shining on his head.
If Leroy didn’t know him well enough, he could’ve sworn he was losing his mind and that his mental health was in an extremely dark place.
Alec used to say David was one of the most powerful prodigies that had ever existed, and that this helmet would be the one thing that changed everything, once and for all. Leroy, who had never finished understanding what David could do, often doubted his words, and, to him, the helmet, if anything, only made him look ridiculous.
But he said Gatlon would fall today, and everyone believed him.
Hard as it was for him to admit it, Leroy did too.
“REMOVE THE HELMET AND IDENTIFY YOURSELF!”
If Honey had been able to speak instead of being completely frozen, she probably would’ve said the man at the front looked, plain and simple, like a cop. Light skin, brown eyes, dark brown hair combed to the side, gun in a trembling hand, afraid of the unknown.
The unknown, meaning Alec standing in front of him, with his hands laced behind his back, and his gabardine flowing with the wind.
“I SAID…!”
“I believe it was clear enough I heard you the first time.” Alec declared, tilting his head to the side. “Isn’t a person entitled to decide what questions they desire to respond to by sorting them according to their level of relevance?”
The man gulped so hard Leroy could almost hear him, and then Alec smirked.
“Can you drop your gun or is it attached to your hand? Because if it is, then I will not bother you again. But if it is not, I am going to need you to put it away so we can have a civilized conversation, like normal people do.”
“You’re… y-you’re not normal. Any of you are! YOU’RE NOT NORMAL, YOU MONSTERS! DROP YOUR WEAPONS, NOW!”
Honey’s bees were starting to present themselves at the scene, flying around her, a little uneasy. Leroy, from his part, felt calm, because this, sadly, wasn’t anything they hadn’t seen before.
“Yeah. That is exactly the problem.”
“STEP BACK!”
Alec refused to obey, and remained firm, right there where he was. Slowly, as if he were trying to mentally torture them, he lifted his right hand up. His fingers were in a very specific position, like he was about to make the sign of the cross on somebody.
It was Alec, meaning that, if he had done that, Leroy wouldn’t have been surprised.
But he didn’t.
Besides, if he had actually been planning to, they didn’t give him time for that, for the very second they saw him move, they shot, and many emergency alarms went off.
The bang was so loud Honey covered her ears, and her bees started trying to shield themselves by hiding behind her, beneath her hair or landing on her skin, never stinging her.
Leroy, from his part, felt his fingertips dripping with acid, preparing himself for the impact.
The impact never came.
Right in front of their eyes, the shower of bullets stops. The smell of gunpowder was still filling the air, and the bullets were still there, as present as ever.
However, they were suspended into the air, and one of them was almost touching Alec’s nose, who just smiled, before saying, in such a low volume Honey and him were the only ones who could hear:
“So be it, then.”
Being that said, he lifted his chin.
The bullets turned around.
Then, they were shot in the opposite direction, at full speed, to Alec’s will.
The man at the front of the formation fell first, followed by many others, with the bullets they had shot themselves, in an attempt to kill them.
They fell, one by one, and soon there were puddles of red on the floor, and other voices barking orders.
Shoot the canyons, they said.
But the canyons fell too.
Bring the bombs, they said.
And Alec waved them away as if they were some type of insignificant thing.
The planes, they said.
And they spun and flew out of control, before falling straight into the water or exploding midair.
Bullets stopped again and killed their shooters.
There was blood.
Tons of blood.
That’s when Leroy felt his heart pounding, upon coming to the maybe horrible realization that never had Alec been so strong.
His powers didn’t act like this.
His telekinesis was a hundred times more powerful.
It was…
It was the helmet
“GET THEM!” He shouted then, snapping Leroy back into reality, making him wonder how much time Alec had waited to say those words out loud.
To use those putrid words, the ones they always used before attempting against prodigies, against them.
If he wanted to be honest, hearing them felt good, but Leroy didn’t react immediately.
First he saw the chaos, when the mass of uniformed men and women melted between the prodigies in costumes, stepping on the dead and the dying, sometimes accidentally.
The massacre began in the rest of the city, as the sky became wilder, the tide started to roar and the screams became the type of symphony one would hear when entering the gates from Hell.
Gatlon City was starting to look red.
But the red wasn’t coming from the prodigies, but caused by them.
“You two stay with me.” Alec commanded, looking both at Honey and him. “I need you to clear the path.”
“Clear the bridge?!”
“Did I make myself understood, Queen Bee?”
Honey flinched the very moment she heard her own alias, and Leroy watched her as she tried to process everything.
“Clear the bridge.” She repeated. “Yes. Clear the…”
Leroy hoped that didn’t include the bodies.
He guessed it didn’t. Alec, after all, didn’t seem to care about that.
“Clear the bridge. Got it.” Leroy nodded.
“Excellent.”
Alec didn’t stare at them, and he didn’t move either, standing in the middle, with his hands into his pockets, and his face held high, feeling the movements all around him, prepared to get rid of any threat as soon as he spotted it.
Honey and Leroy rarely talked about their tactics before putting them into practice, but, just for once, Leroy wanted to do it.
And, of course, it wasn’t possible, because just as Leroy was preparing to grab her by the wrist and drag her aside, she got herself out of his reach.
“Wait! Wait!” she screamed, not because she was desperate, but because she wanted to be heard above the rest of the din.
Fortunately, in an almost surreal scene to watch, her voice caught Alec’s attention, and his green eyes caught hers, listening.
Leroy stared at Honey, both incredulous and speechless.
“A—” She stuttered. “… Acey.”
Acey.
Fucking Acey.
Leroy arched an eyebrow sharply, but Alec nodded, as if approving the nickname or acknowledging she was talking to him.
“I… “
BANG.
An explosion.
A loud, very loud explosion, followed by the smell of smoke and gunpowder. Maybe, if they were at a lower spot, they would’ve smelled the burnt flesh too.
Good thing they weren’t.
That didn’t make Alec less mad, though, for he unnecessarily adjusted his helmet and straightened his back.
“Acey, wait, I…! “
“Maybe not right now, Queen Bee.” He declared, plain and cold, but solemn.
Somehow, Leroy already knew what she wanted to say, and he also knew she would never say it after today, because he knew her well enough.
And maybe he knew him well enough too.
“Later.” He promised, empty.
Then, just like that, sitting in a cross-legged position, Alec levitated, perhaps to have a better view of the city.
Leroy took Honey by the wrist, this time for real.
Alec made the tank shoot in the opposite direction, and then came another explosion.
Back to back, Honey and him waited for the ones who came and tried to attack. Leroy started feeling his own heartbeat in his ears, and his whole body was vibrating, while Honey’s hasty breaths tormented him, trying to convince himself that they were doing fine, and that they were right.
Because they were.
They were just fighting back.
Leroy saw the scene as if he were out of his body.
The two of them, below Alec, but higher than the city, which was in flames; the body to body fights, with a considerable unbalance of power. The Anarchists were annihilating them with not a drop of mercy, nor remorse. The fights were on top of cars. On top of buildings. Through the streets. Pipes were leaking. The sky was roaring and wailing at the same time. Bullets were flying. Cables were hanging. Trees were moving as if made of paper.
Leroy could still feel Honey’s back against his’, and they only separated when they had to meet the officials who were coming into the bridge, before sending them to the top of pile of bodies.
A man came in, and he was a little taller than Leroy, with his head shaved and a bulletproof jacket. He wasn’t holding a gun, but a metallic tube instead. In posture and enraged expression, Leroy could tell he wasn’t a cop. Maybe a veteran, or some dumb fuck who enjoyed hunting season.
First, Leroy got rid of the tube, melting it with his hand, and next thing he knew, he was attacking him, trying to put his whole body weight on him. Leroy resisted and grabbed him first by the wrist and then by the cheeks, which made him wail in pain. Leroy pressed his palms harder against his skin, and it was only then that a swarm of both bees and wasps came in and started devouring the man’s face, gathering together into the burnt cheeks and wrists.
Honey grabbed Leroy by the arm and tried to pull him up, grunting and gasping, until Leroy was lucid enough to help her and got up himself.
At that very moment somebody kicked her back and made her trip forward. Fortunately, Leroy was able to catch her, but his blood started to boil, and, then, he just knew he had gone in a blind assault of rage.
Out of a sudden, he didn’t feel like himself. He could feel his pores dripping, and the acid was so strong he felt his whole body itching; getting into a fight position, he asked Honey to get behind him with a hand motion, which she obeyed, though also in defense mode.
It was a female official this time. Light brown hair tied in a small ponytail and muscular body. Leroy waved his hand, and that was enough to send the acid flying towards her, straight into her eyes and different spots of her skin.
She screamed in pain.
Honey was already fighting another man, but still, Leroy felt the bees surrounding him too, and there was a very specific group that stayed even when Honey moved towards another position, and they buzzed loudly all around him, notifying him when somebody was coming.
“They’re like an alarm.” He recalled Honey saying once, standing in the middle of the kitchen, taking the groceries out of the bags. She was covered in bees, as if they were children asking their mother what she had gotten for then. “They usually see the enemy before I do, so they buzz in their direction. From the outside it looks like I have outstanding reflexes but… Baby, you’re too close to my lashes and it’s giving me the heebie-jeebies, would you mind? Thank you.” A bumblebee flew away from Honey’s eye, to stand above her brow instead.
“What was I saying?” She tapped her chin, making the bees go away for a second. “Ah. Yes. I do have good reflexes, but yeah, it’s usually thanks to them, as well.”
Leroy remained leaned against the door frame, with his arms crossed over his chest.
“So.” She pointed at the counter, now full of groceries. “You’re gonna help me or what?”
Leroy wasn’t scared of bees. He had never been. Not particularly. But when he met Honey, he became immune to them and decided he would never be, either. Sometimes, when he was alone in the apartment and saw a swarm by the door, waiting for Honey to come back, he would even try to talk to them, which was useless and, judging for how they always stung him, they didn’t like it.
Maybe the bees didn’t like him whatsoever, but right here, in the bridge, they were pretending they did, because Honey had asked them to do so.
And yes. Hard as it was for him to admit it, they were useful.
Very useful.
On the other hand, it also made him feel dumb, because he didn’t know how desperate you had to be for your powers to respond to you through another prodigy.
Leroy was stabbed during one of the (very violent) riots. It wasn’t by a cop, but by a regular, non-prodigy civilian instead. It was a deep cut, and Alec got so mad he ordered to kill as many as they had to until they found the one who had done it. While Hell was breaking loose, Honey dragged him like a human crutch towards the park, hiding him behind the bushes.
“Don’t fall asleep or move unless you really need to, and don’t try to cauterize yourself because that shit hurts and you might pass out. Wait for Rina. I’ll send her to you.” Rina was a healing prodigy, and by the time Honey was saying that, she had already been killed, so they ended up sending Gwen instead. “You understand? Now it’s not the time to be the stubborn piece of shit you usually are. That’s not how we’re rolling. You understand?”
Leroy understood, but he didn’t answer. Not directly. Instead, he reached for the small blade he always carried in his pocket and, before he handed it to Honey, he tried to release his power in it.
She stared before grabbing it.
“Don’t let go, Leroy.” She asked, whispering, as she placed the blade in her own pocket. “For all you care, don’t let go.”
And when Honey’s skin touched it without her screaming in pain, he thought maybe it hadn’t worked at all, but a few days later, when Alec came to the apartment and tried to remove it from the dining table (because David was there too and he liked to touch everything), it hurt his palm.
The blade had become poisoned, and it burned everyone except for Honey and himself.
She still had it to this day, and right there, fighting in the bridge, he witnessed the exact moment when she took it out, while he stood behind her, with her bees, that she had lent him.
The sudden war seemed to have gone on forever when Leroy felt the breeze at his feet, produced by Alec’s body cutting through the air. He looked like a ghost. A very tangible and imposing ghost, who stood like a stone looking at the destruction he had caused himself, with his arms behind his back and his eyes closed.
Honey and Leroy came to his encounter, with the “Now what?” floating above their heads, like that time Honey and him had harmonized to Rivers of Babylon.
With sweat rolling down his face through the helmet and mask, Alec smiled sideways, and held his hand towards them, with his eyes showing a mild fuchsia tonality. None of the two, needless to say, knew how to react to that at first, but Honey believed him enough to try, and she wrapped her hand around his’, like a shell protecting a pearl.
And Leroy believed Honey enough to try, and wrapped his hand around hers’, like he was the sand or the water protecting the shell that protected the pearl.
And there they were.
The three of them.
Like the day Leroy met them for the first time. Like the days they travelled together, hiding from the police or not. Like all the days Alec forced them to go to Mass. Like the days they had to sleep under poor conditions, in motels or abandoned buildings, and Alec and him woke up with back pain because Honey always had to have the most comfortable place they managed to get. Like the days one of them was so injured they didn’t know he or she would wake up the next morning, and so they started praying they would.
Repressed memories started coming back, and Leroy managed to dodge every single one of them, although a part of him didn’t want to.
Then Alec stared at them. They were very close together, with their foreheads touching, while the three interlocked hands remained in the middle.
“Courage comes from the same place as fear.” Alec reminded them.
“And the day we decide to burn, they will all come with us. “ Ace Anarchy said.
And then, he lifted.
Honey was the last one to let go of him.
Next, he was gone.
Ace Anarchy stood above it all, like the burning sun, with both his arms extended to his sides, towards the emptiness, and, at the same time, towards the everything.
Leroy took Honey by the arms, putting her aside, as they stared. Maybe in awe. Maybe in fear.
Ace Anarchy looked up at the sky, then at the front again.
All the guns were pointing at him. All the lives were hanging by the thread he was using to sew his way in, and also his way out.
The Earth trembled in fear, and then it shook in pain.
Honey screeched, shoving her nails into Leroy’s arm to recover her balance, though Leroy was also on the verge of falling.
They tried to hold the other up. To force each other to remain standing.
Gatlon City left the ground, light as a feather. The buildings fell, the bridge started to crack, the sea escaped from the place it belonged to, people screamed, screamed, screamed.
Everything was in flames.
The light became brighter.
The wails became louder.
Time became slower.
Time became torture.
Time became endless.
And Gatlon City remained suspended into the air, shattering into little pieces, leaving a trace of blood and flesh.
Then, just like that, it fell.
Gatlon City fell, like a sinking boat.
Like it was nothing.
Like it was made of paper.
And it fell.
And, just like Ace Anarchy prophesied, they all fell with it. And with him.
#renegades trilogy#marissa meyer#Dawnie Writes#Leroy Flinn#Cyanide#Honey Harper#Queen Bee#Alec Artino#Ace Anarchy#Im not an ace apologist#not even a honey apologist#even though i love them i also want them to choke and die bc thats what they deserve#does that mean im only and exclusively a Leroy apologist? yes#yes absolutely#hes my grandpa#Las crónicas de gatlon#el viejo rancio la patrona y el 100tifiko#theres two mexican references here because mexico is so wild i base Ace's movement upon it lmao#TW: VIOLENCE
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Kait Reacts To The AE 2/?
Hi! These reactions are written out every time a Chatroom opens and it’s done over the course of the day. So, you’re watching me react in real time as it is for me. So, Spoilers AHOY. Expect Another post like this at roughly 11PM, there is just too many chats to put it all in one post. So, hey, if you click this, you’re opening yourself to spoilers, you make the choice.
I covered the events of the initial Visual Novel with V here.
[0:00AM Visual Novel]
If you managed to hold your breath long enough, you could ask why V did what he did to you. He says he doesn’t want to involve us... or the others, only Saeran and that makes me hesitant. Given what I’ve already said... well, we all know as I’ve started to feel about what V’s doing. He’s willing to burn down in flames with Rika and let everyone hate him because he feels that he deserves it. We do get to wake up from the effects of the drugs laced in the smoke bomb that V brought to C&R.
He’s surprised that we woke up. Saeran didn’t pass out because he’s so used to the drugs that are in the elixir. Rika was involved deeply in the process of the use of the drugs now, and I’m not surprised by that. V points it out himself that he borrowed his knowledge on the matter. Either way, Saeran is really worried for us and what catches me off-guard is how he says that Ray is weeping from within as he worries over our form, as we strain to wake up but the drugs are really keeping us down. Whatever is in that stuff is ridiculously powerful.
The RFA is still knocked out. We’re the only one that woke up. He said that he was able to protect us and that’s a callback to what happened with V the first time that we had a problem on the first night of Ray’s Route. I sobbed about that because he thought that he wasn’t strong enough and he was able to stay awake in spite of the drugs.
He’s been sleeping... the purple under his eyes is fading. He has to leave us for a moment to see the unit after ensuring that we’re okay. Sobs.
[9:45AM Chat]
Okay, I said this in the last one that I covered that I had the sinking theory that Rika was working with Saejoong and that it may be possible that they are tied together. I don’t know how to feel on this given V’s reaction here. I had a sinking feeling in my fucking gut. I kept telling myself last night that V was involved in a big scheme with Rika. I still don’t know what to think, and neither does Saeran as this is happening.
He won’t tell us anything. He says Saeran needs to come alone. He says that he needs to do it now because in two days time, Saeyoung is going to be killed or worse. We don’t know. We ask him for proof to know that he’s not lying to us as hey, we can’t someone that just turned against us. I mean, I can see him being a martyr but you can’t in the game reality. It’s right to be wary. The messenger was hacked.
V said he used those drugs to ensure that we didn’t wake up. Us getting up is a damn miracle.
I don’t know who did it. I worried that it was Saeyoung being forced to do it by Rika or Saejoong. Then V drops this fucking bombshell on us:
Saeyoung’s not dead but his life is on the line. We have to do something and our boy Saeran needs to think. He knows that this is a trap of some kind, and so do we, but he knows that V is... complicated. He wants to something but he needs to think it through. So, I’m not sure and I’m left with more thoughts then answers here.
[11:23AM Chat + Visual Novel]
Rika makes a grand appearance. I don’t know what to think. My prior thoughts about Saeyoung being used wasn’t entirely wrong but I will get to that in one lil’ moment because we need to talk about what just happened with Rika. V didn’t tell us he was with Rika, but we can infer that they’re together.
They apparently made a deal with the Prime Minister for Saeyoung here for some reason. I don’t know what the deal is, they don’t talk about that at length. She comments that it’s impressive that we’re with Saeran even now, and then she huffs that everyone left her but V. V saw her and let her revel in her devil and that’s why we pointedly had Jumin state in the earlier visual novel that V’s eyes weren’t okay.
So, Rika fucked up V’s eyes once again. I can’t recall them being messed on his route or in Another Story yet, but it’s been so long since I did V’s Route so forgive me on that one. Either way, he subjected himself to her anger and all of the punishment. I don’t have enough information to think about what could be going on with them from the chatroom. They were meant to knock out both of the twins and bring them together. But, that didn’t happen.
I have a lot of questions about the deal.
That’s not the main theme of the chat here that we need to point out. The chat is called “Has she changed?” Nope. We’re not doing this with you, Rika. You can’t change overnight and I refuse to trust you or forgive you. I don’t want to deal with this nonsense again. I know that I need to play the middleman to get the good ending in this After Ending. That’s how you have to deal with V’s After End, so I’m following that theory even though I’m gritting my teeth.
I don’t trust Rika. I don’t trust her and I never will. After seeing what V is doing and what I’m about to talk about, I have to say that she’s not changed. I don’t really care how she’s trying to talk about this. Even if she was trying to make things right again with the brothers, this isn’t the way to do it, and trying to knock out everyone and kidnap Saeran too isn’t how this works. This is clearly a trap, and no matter how you spin it. It doesn’t look good.
Maybe I’ll kick myself in the ass later, but I have a lot of feelings about Rika and people do not change like this. Not this fast. Not someone who refused to change and did what Rika did. Anyways, let’s talk about the Visual Novel cause that revealed a lot of my personal theories that I haven’t shared coming to light.
There’s another cut-away with Saeran as he comes back to check on us and we’re talking about what just happened. We both know that this has to be a trap but like I said, he’s thinking about what to do here. He wants to give a chance to see for sure, he can’t let something slip through his hands, even though we have to say that this is really... not okay. The messenger isn’t secure because of who hacked it.
He’s working on making something that we can use to talk privately in the messenger about it. He can’t fight the hacker for good, he’s got the intelligence team doing a lot of work for him. He thinks that this is fated to be... dangerous and I don’t blame him.
And then we immediately jump into another scene with Saeyoung. He isn’t dead and thank God. But, he’s suffering and he might wish he were dead. But, I know him better than that. I’m not sure where this is taking place at first but we know that they’re in a secure location for sure. We’re given Saejoong here so we know that he’s involved. This man is called Boss, so I knew right away that he was the boss of the Intelligence Agency, if not one of the higher ups. They talk about this place being secure....
And that it can be blown up....
MOTHER FUCKER IT’S RIKA’S APARTMENT.
The boss says that the woman they made a deal with wasn’t right in the head. I go, oh, Rika. This is talking about the deal. I expected to learn something about the deal here but you know we’re not getting it. Saeyoung tries to ask but he is not going to get it and neither are we. Either way, he knows that he’s fucked in this place but he’s staying calm. He’s warned to listen. Saeyoung just struggles to believe that he’s been double-crossed by the people he trusted.
He says, “They were the last people I should have ever trusted.” And then he talks about how he made this place for Rika, how he knows as the creator that it’s going to be a mess. It’s impossible to beat. He beat it in his timeline but that took days. The Boss says, “Agent 707 Extreme is a masterpiece you and I have created, sir.”
And then my stomach sank because this was one of my earliest theories and fears. That the agency and Saejoong were working together. It continues to go on and explains that Saejoong made deals with the agency often before he was even the Prime Minister and he continues to do so. He pays good money to get what he wants. He even goes on to say that this was planned. That Saeyoung was planned.
That Saejoong made the environment and the cause for Saeyoung to become an agent in the first place. This goes back to how V even knew how to get him into the agency. Did someone approach V? What happened there? I need more answers on that. I always did. I’ve always thought about that and hated that I’d never gotten an answer.
Both the Boss and Saejoong note that Saeyoung’s pretending to be calm and he’s thinking this through. Saeyoung tries to throw them off but we all know that everyone in that room knows fully well what’s really going on. It pains me to see him suffering like this. Vanderwood is nowhere to be seen, so, I don’t even know what to think about them.
Hey, so I hate Saejoong Choi so fucking much.
They tell Saeyoung that he has to listen to them. He has two options. He can be killed and then Saeran can be killed. Or, he can hack the messenger and give them what they want to take over the public and make the RFA look back. I see the plan here and I don’t like it. Saeyoung knows he’s in a tight spot, he grits his teeth and begins telling them about what he’s been taught... and he winds up knocking himself out cold so he doesn’t have to do it.
They need him, so it’s going to buy him some time.
They know that.
However, the Boss and Saejoong sigh because they expected it. Now they’re just waiting for Saeran. Saejoong says that Rika promised something so I don’t know how to fel about that. The Boss said he’s talked to V before... that doesn’t help his case. Saejoong’s deal with Rika was just with Rika... ah. They imply they have an informant, too...? Vanderwood? V? Who? We’re also mentioned as a problem since we didn’t pass out.
The agency is phishing with wrongdoings about the RFA that aren’t true. We are so fucked right now.
And this troubles me:
[4:05PM Chat]
Hi. How are you? I’ve been waiting for hours for this chat and now I’m having a goddamn crisis.
Anyways, V comes into the chatroom and decides to tell us exactly what I was thinking about when he showed up in the first place. I wasn’t wrong. I knew that he was letting himself go down with Rika and he admits that he stays with her as it is a part of the grief over his mother. He won’t let her go because his mother left and his father did such awful things to that woman. He’s been hurt and very marked by that event in his life.
I knew that this was why he did it... but I think this is the first time that he’s saying it outright. Saeran and I both tell him that’s not okay but he won’t really listen to reason anymore. I’m sorry you’re trapped like this V, but this isn’t what you were supposed to learn from Saeran and the player. You were meant to know that you have a life. Don’t drown yourself for Rika.
He won’t leave her and that’s not how we deal with Toxic Relationships, Jihyun Kim. That being said, we get to talk about who stopped the investigation into Rika and even though we know he won’t say it outright, V made the deal with the Prime Minister to protect Rika from facing punishment. He thinks that she’s going to get better because of him going back to her, but that’s not how this works and he’s being rash. We can’t reason with him.
It hurts to see, honestly.
So, we know why V made a deal but we don’t know what Rika made a deal for if it was the same one or not. I have the feel that it isn’t. I know there’s a lot more going on here than we know. But, this confirms my fears. V, she cannot get away with what she did. She cannot. I know you love her but this isn’t okay. This love is twisted and harming you and will not help her in the way that you want and God, let me help him leave her or something in this DLC.
So, that’s what happens here. We learn about V and I’m angry at him and for him as someone who has lived through domestic abuse. But, hey, the good news is, I can flirt with Saeran as much as want:
[5:57PM Chat]
This chatroom is a bombshell and so is the phone call that comes after it. It’s a one on one with RIka. I’m not enticed by that. I never am. I can’t stand her but I think it’s interesting to know what’s going on inside of her head. She says that she has changed and that she wants to be better, she wants to be like us, but that is something she has a long road to walk to. However, Rika is a true master manipulator and she knows how to talk really pretty and tell you what you want to hear and lead you off her path.
That’s why I never trust her or listen. I know what it’s like to live with someone like that I won’t listen to it. She tries to plant a lovely picture of someone who has seen the error of her ways to us. She says that she’s changing... being on the run has changed her. I don’t think Go-Gurt binges are going to change you, Rika, though, now I really want some Go-Gurt.
They’re in hiding, even though they made a deal with the Prime Minister. So, we know the deal they made is on pretty thin ice. She goes on to say that she is her devil... that she can control it. That she can change. To me, I don’t believe a word she’s saying. She’s trying to make us believe that she can change so Saeran will go and see them alone.
I don’t like that.
She even tries to end the chat by being nice and making sure that we remember to eat. Then, she calls you from V’s phone. She tries to play nice again, and she wants us to listen. She’s trying to get us to get Saeran to go. Alone. Again. It is a topic that comes up but we deflect it. She tries to change it about us, by asking us if we want to talk.. together about ourselves, instead of Saeran. Saeran was always the focus of our talks.
We talk about herbs. I pointedly asked if what the herbs were, she said that they weren’t legal and implied that she’s got more things cooking. So, that’s not a good thing and you guys... I don’t know if you listened to the Ringtones, but they jested about “Green Life!” together, V and Rika, and I don’t like how that ties into this.
She admits that she never feared anything she started. She’s admitting that she is aware of her crimes and knows what she was doing so anyone that wants to say that she isn’t should really check themselves at the door. Mental Illness is not an an excuse for any misdeeds, and if you lash out, then you have to take responsibility to learn and grow.
Not making a fucking cult.
We talk about relationships, too. Rika inquires how we view relationships. You are given a lot of options, but I went with my heart. I have a lot to say but I need you to read this out:
That’s not the end. She compliments you and says:
And, that my friends, is why I don’t trust Rika and I never will. I have a sinking feeling that she wants to use Saeran and Saeyoung as leverage to ensure her freedom. As in, at this point, I think she’s going to let them both be killed so she can be free. That’s my worst case scenario but that’s all I can think right now.
#KaitReactsToTheAE#Kait Reacts To The AE#SaeranAfterEnding#saeran after ending#saeran ae#mm#mysme#mystic messenger#mysticmessenger#saeran choi#choi saeran#saeran mysme#saeran mystic messenger#saeran mm#mm saeran#mystic messenger saeran#mysme saeran#mod kait#long post
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petals for armor 🌺 sentence starters
part 1.
‘ rage is a quiet thing. ’
‘ you think that you've tamed it, but it's just lying in wait. ’
‘ there's so many ways to give in. ’
‘ how to draw the line between wrath and mercy? ’
‘ if i had seen my reflection as something more precious, he would've never. ’
‘ if my child needed protection from a fucker like that man. ’
‘ i’d sooner gut him. ’
‘ 'cause nothing cuts like a mother. ’
‘ wrap yourself in petals. ’
‘ wrap yourself in petals for armor. ’
‘ don't nobody tell me that god don't have a sense of humor. ’
‘ now that i finally wanna live, the ones i love are dying. ’
‘ it tastes so bitter on my tongue. ’
‘ the truth’s a killer. ’
‘ but i can’t leave it alone. ’
‘ who else am i gonna lose before i am ready? ’
‘ and who's gonna lose me? ’
‘ on the walls of my home, there are signs that i'm alone. ’
‘ talk to my dog, he don't mind. ’
‘ home is where i'm feminine, smells like citrus and cinnamon. ’
‘ i’m not lonely, i am free. ‘
‘ but if i let you in, you would never wanna leave. ’
‘ we bleed holy water. ’
‘ so why you creeping 'round here? ’
‘ strange you're not a threat to me. ’
‘ don't you know that i'm a moon in daylight? ’
‘ it always starts as something so simple and innocent but too much of anything, you never know how to quit. ’
‘ just keep on suckin' on the memory of him. ’
‘ we keep our distance now. ’
‘ i try not to think about what happened last night outside his house. ’
‘ take the elephant by the hand and hold it. ’
‘ it's cruel to tame a thing that don't know its strength. ’
‘ but better to walk beside it than underneath. ’
‘ don’t look in my eyes, i feel a sudden desire. ’
part 2.
‘ every morning I wake up from a dream of you holding me underwater. ’
‘ is that a dream or a memory? ’
‘ pretty cool i’m still alive. ’
‘ i beat it like a dead horse. ‘
‘ oh, i stayed with you too long. ’
‘ sometimes it's good to be the bigger person but i'm so small i can't compare. ’
‘ i got what i deserved, i was the other woman first. ’
‘ when i said goodbye, I hope you cried. ’
‘ little wrinkle by your eye i never noticed 'til right now. ’
‘ i can remember the wolves at your heels. ’
‘ you never questioned why she is here. ’
‘ all of your good and your evil, well, babe, you can leave it with me.’
‘ i am beside you, famine or fire. ’
‘ who could take your place? who could take mine? ’
‘ none could take your place, none could take mine. ’
‘ if there's resistance, it makes you stronger, it's not the end. ’
‘ make it your friend. ’
‘ it's the right time to come alive, baby, if you wanna try. ’
‘ tell yourself it ain't over yet. ’
‘ it's the right time to get out of your head.’
‘ i have seen your body and i have seen your beauty. ’
‘ so what do i care and what do you care if i grow? ’
‘ i think of all the wilted women who crane their necks to reach a window.’
‘ i myself was a wilted woman, drowsy in a dark room, forgot my roots, now watch me bloom. ’
‘ i will not compare other beauty to mine. ’
‘ i will not return to where i once was. ’
‘ and now i can't seem to remember why we ever felt we had to say goodbye. ’
‘ i can't feel your energy no more. ’
‘ i spent the weekend at home again, drawing circles on the floor. ’
‘ i just wanna talk about it, i know i freaked you out. ’
‘ sorry for freaking out. ’
part 3.
‘ the opposite of love is fear. ’
‘ wait till i open up to you. ’
‘ if i want pure love, must stop acting so tough. ’
‘ if i want your love, i’ve got to open up. ’
‘ a deeper way to understand the line between who you are and who i am. ’
‘ cause to let you in, is true compromise. ’
‘ guess you really got to call your own bluff if you want pure love. ’
‘ my feet won't touch the ground beneath me. ’
‘ i'm flying but i'm not afraid to fall. ’
‘ if anybody asks it, i’m taken. ’
‘ it's easy to see how people stop believing, 'cause everyone i know's got a broken heart. ’
‘ though i'm still picking up my pieces, he makes me wanna give it another shot. ’
‘ would i do it all again? yeah, in a second. might've taken thirty years, but i was always on my way to him. ’
‘ do you taste old shame when you lick my wounds? ’
‘ i feel redeemed in spite of you. ’
‘ could you be the silver lining like sugar on the rim?’
‘ you took me by surprise. ’
‘ i'm not afraid of the dark side. ’
‘ maybe we just had to feel it so we know the difference. ’
‘ 'cause it just gets sweeter by the day. ’
‘ how lucky i feel to be in my body again. ’
‘ how lovely i feel not to have to pretend. ’
‘ you wanna look inside of me and just watch me bloom. ’
‘ i’m alive in spite of me. ’
‘ watch me while i bloom. ’
‘ baby you got a lot of shit to learn. ’
‘ i don’t want to shut you out. ’
‘ i don't wanna rush around, or slow down. ’
‘ i wanna make it crystal clear that i won't give in to the fear. ’
‘ i remember standing on the edge, closing my eyes, counting to three. ’
‘ here we go, gonna risk it again. let's hope it's the last time.’
‘ we don’t know how this could end. ’
‘ i’m still right here. ’
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actually in honor of yesterdays rewatch. top ten moments of oh im bout to throw hands w this middle aged woman.
spoilers obv fr the entire book/series sharp objects, assuming you havent already gathered a thorough knowledge of the events due to me not being able to just shut up abt it
1. porch drink “apology” at the end of calhoun day. mother fucker. camille honestly thought she was about to get some intimate honesty frm her mom and this woman decided to talk abt camille’s inability to trust while carressing her w those fucking nails and goin like oh forgive me.. for you being a cold horrible person even if i never did nothing to cause that and am not to blame sweetie :) swear to god im gonna track my dirty pleb feet all over her ~veranda
2. rose bush conversation. scolding yr daughter like oh youre such a horrible cruel person to be around “you never mean to do anything and yet you cause so much hurt” excUSE ME?? then cutting your OWN hand on the bush and being like ohhh owww LOOK what youve done :’( having yr cuck husband dress yr wounds, skip on yr lunch date w the girls to recover and continue bitching abt it so that the next day even the most random person you barely know will b like ohhh u poor dear howre u doing (abt 45 seconds into this). like shut uP
3. the venomous spiteful RESENTMENT over the curlers/scissor story when that wasnt even them. that didnt even happen to her. thats the story from Ann and her mom. and the way that entire scene ends with the “what, mamma?” “you smell ripe” just bc she saw her w kansas city im gonna start SWINGING
4. she changed camille into the nightgown while she was asleep. revolting. but also putting her in the bath and washing her. what are boundaries when mother is taking care of you :))) you cover up all the time but ill force you to let me see im just >:((( also you dont SEE it per se but ill safely assume she snatched those clothes when camille was undressed at the store, forcing that whole moment. because who the fuck else. fucking instigator and then acting all ö :’/ when that triggers smth i swear to fucking god
5. also while in the bath when camille half delririous wants to talk abt marian and shes just like oh silly *splashes water in her face maliciously. dont be selfish you need to get over that *yanks on her hair HARD like oh shes been finally granted access and all the pent up i hhRHHRG
6. the brief moment where you see her check herself in the mirror before they leave for Natalie’s funeral. ALL in black w second row seating as if this is HER kid... the pure ”marians back in the hospital... i wore my yellow dress heehee i looked like a pineapple!! the doctor flirted w me despite the wedding ring the nurses are suspicious and jealous of meee ill bake them smth fr next time bleh bleh bleh ha ha” energy this evoked within me like oh youre just eating this all up i bet.....
7. when camille first shows up and shes like oh "the house is not up to par for visitors im afraid”. the awkward stilted like no youre inconveniencing us but sighhh it’s fine type attitude especially when then gayla steps in and without saying a word is already so much more welcoming to camille. im entering with a knife
8. “camille makes me feel like im a bad mom :// “you ARE. and alan then immediately comforts and reassures her im like dude shut up. leave
9. camille phoning curry on calhoun day like "it's just that whenever i'm here i just, um, i just, i feel like a bad person” B R O. with everything that. just, god. we all talk abt the dressing room scene but this phone call that happens just after, as well as the one in ep 7 when shes Realised things and is about to go to the house to str8 up... i am losing my mind. also if i remember correctly this is also more or less when the meaning of “home” shifts frm wind gap to st louis. aka talk of what it’s like to be back home --> do you want to come home so thats. definitely something
10. “you are making your mother ill etc etc ” i know technically thats alan only parroting fr her and she’ll even get stern & disappointed when he doesnt play messenger fr her well enough but seriously fuck that dude
#on a meta level its kinda funny that amy got the golden globe /nomination/ fr best actress while patricia WON the best supporting#but like she deserved that. just watching those clips again has me boiling. adora crellin esp in her soft pink night gown its on SIGHT#honorable mention to pre-funeral when camille wants to cut an apple and she demands to do it fr her...... immediately hands it over to gayla
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[Hello! I understand this can be upsetting to some so tags are on: RPF, ENGINE FAILURE, ANGST, EMOTIONALLY HURT/ COMFORT/ FLUFF] work of fiction BUT FLUFF/ KISSES
Response to @cocklesdestielfiction prompt BOTTLE (Cockles, a 5K story)
“The right engine exploded… like… BOOM!”
— Richard Speight Jr. (VegasCon 2020)
********
“Where’s Misha?” says Jensen above the steady hum of the plane’s engine blending with sounds of shuffling bags, pitter-patters, and clinking glasses but Misha can always hear him perfect pitch or not.
“Here.” he heaved himself from the end of the aisle after unloading his personal bag with the other smaller luggage. He can hear Cliff talking to the attendant by the coach but he’s just too tired to say hello.
“Hey, Cliff.”
Misha’s eyebrows rake up and unfortunately for him that’s all he can muster with his limp. There’s a blunt grunt from the security papa bear.
“Nappy time for you, Misha. You look shit.”
“Thanks.” he grimaces. After ten hours on set (and that’s without Jared), he’s just too exhausted. Stalking to the cabin seats, Misha joined the others with bleary eyes.
He catches glinting green whose cherry lips begin to form into a wild smile. There has to be some rule about instant rejuvenation just from receiving that dose from such a nice face.
Richard beats them both in whatever shit they were about to say.
“Service is slowing, Misha. Your customer’s been addressing his complaints to the not-so-proper authorities.”Misha sniggers.
“Who’s proper here, do tell.”
“Jensen’s not being proper at adulting.” Alex supplies staring out at the green primo uomo Misha’s been ignoring. The whine comes. It’s like a sweet tickle on his ears. Petulant and cheeky growly voice—signs Misha learned—since his first day—never to encourage.
“Misha! Mish! One more call you’re gonna deliver a bar.”
He turns.
“Been callin you out.”
“You do that to spite me, fucker.” Misha drawls, walking to Jensen and holding out another bottled water that has to be his 8th. “Here. Don’t believe the media when they tell you the world will never run out of water. Maison says the water sprites will invoke the right to strike just on principle.”
“Sweet faerie. But I believe you. You just hoarded eight hundred Aquafina.”
“And who’s fault is that?”
If Jensen wasn’t giggling so dorkily at him, he would have snatched the bottle and cursed him for the reminder. But Misha couldn’t help the smile tugging at the corner of lips. Even Rich and Alex hark laughter at the meaning.
Cause Misha Collins just had a truck of bottled water delivered on set that’s still causing stomach hurts from the cast. Recently, Jensen had taken up the habit of ‘mentioning Misha ’on set as a result of that one interview involving some intense heart eyes and delivery of drinks caught on camera. Nothing to deny there, relationships over ten years tend to turn if not bitter-sweet memories, then the opposite tooth-rotting.
This takes the cake. Everyone began doing the same.
Of course, Misha— pleased by the attention and a new game to distract himself from the already distracting Jensen, returned all summons. Misha who was never one to do things halfway and pledged on delivering all sorts of drinks every Jensen pings his name—except apple juice, jesus.
But it’s one of those feats that usually get out of control in Supernatural so by the end of the first week, everyone’s just going ‘Misha.’ He liked that a lot. Also, like the truckload of bottled water delivered on set much to their amusement.
When Vicky saw the number on their credit card receipt, she didn’t even raise an eyebrow. Oh, but he wanted to tell her anyway.
All fun aside, Misha’s particularly grumpy now for another reason. Sleep-deprived and emotionally drained after pouring everything on that last take, he’s now headed to Vegascon with this little group. It was nice Jared arranged his private plane to take them. The pretty convenient thing when a pandemic is out there.
Jensen looks tired too, dark lines under the eyes, lips dry— thus the water bottle Misha’s been carrying around— but how the fuck he managed to radiate with teenage energy even when it’s already late will forever evade Misha who wants to snuggle beside him but instead just looks him straight in the eyes.
“Fuck you,” he mouths, backing to his empty chair.
“Do it.” Jensen teases him and Misha will not appreciate that radiance of beauty pulling him in.
“Can’t, there’s our kid here. Don’t wanna make it awkward.”
Alex shakes his head. “Nope. I think I’ve seen the worst of it.”
“That’s what you think.” Misha chuckles.
“Buckle up, Mishano, signals on.” Richard turns his back from the window facing Jensen with red-light flashing above their heads. “Let’s save the Cockles once we’re in Vegas, kay guys? Innocent guy trying to avoid diabetes so save the Cockles.”
“Save the Cockles.” Alex fumbles inside his jacket to fix his earphones.
Misha and Jensen roll eyes at each other and Misha returns to his spot. Jensen is directly on his line of sight so it’s quite easy to check out on him, maybe snap adorable photos and stack it on his 100 terabyte collection he can post someday when he’s 90.
Taking his phone out after securing his belt, he hears the pilot give instructions as the plane begins to move. Soon, he’s immersing himself with replies on tweets and messages on his number using his extra handphone. Zoning out wasn’t difficult, especially when trying to block out the funny feeling of the engine preparing to take off. They’re all used to it by now.
A few minutes later, they all feel the usual sensation of slowing down bodily before the plane thrusts forward— Misha closes his eyes, hands clasping his chair until they feel the plane level after the accent. When he opens his eyes, he hears everyone including him take a deep breath. There are exchanges of words but he is already glued to his phone answering messages sleepily. He’s so tired he can sleep forever. His eyes begin to droop and he sighs in content, finally able to rest even for just minutes.
Till there’s a gentle nudge on his leg.
He ignores it.
Another kick.
No.
“Mish.” Kick again.
Misha grimaces. Such long reach for bowlegs…
“Misha, I swear—”
“Social distance, Jen?” he opens his eyes, obviously grumpy.
“A truckload of beer from Poland sounds nice, I’d prefer that.” Jensen wags the water bottle with mischievous dimples showing off on the corner of his cheek. Misha frowns and shuts his eyes again. Good god for distractions. Good god for soft manly middlemen with so much energy…
“Mish…”
Ignore him.
“Mish!”
Imagine if Jared’s around…
“Hey, Misha, Poland beer really—”
Misha’s eyes flutter open.
“No, honey, I will not argue with you about Polish ‘Alkohole,’ it’s not even articulated the same.” Misha throws a grumpy look over notorious green-eyed lynx whose chuckling over his misery, “You’re gonna fuck with me again and I’ll have another story in my head I am unable to tell a soul as its rightfully not for children, sorry, Alex.”
Ball on Alex’ court, he blinks from Jensen to Misha quietly then shakes his head.
“I am legally an adult.” He obviously could hear them from his pods. Misha raises a finger.
“Correction, the show says you’re 3. All fanfiction does.”
“I’m married.” Alex injects in amusement.
“Fanfiction says Misha and I are married.” comes from Rich’s corner.
At this Misha sits up, preparing his list of things why Misha-will-never-be-married-to-Richard-Speight-Who-Got-a-Rob impromptu—
“I’m married.” Alex retorts but Richard and Misha are bickering over the type of marriage to hear him.
“You both can say whatever the hell you want, Cockles will top.”
Sometimes Jensen just can’t bridle it. Sending Misha his heart eyes flirtatiously, he stops the argument with a wink. Misha giggles with all tiredness gone, replying to Alex about marriage while Rich says something about Jibcon to Jensen when things begin to go wrong.
Misha did not see it happen. He was busy looking over Jensen, admiring the bravado and confidence about the newly found comfort over their relationship (and their characters) when a loud bang from his right splits the air, followed by crashing sounds of that thing that Misha dreads, one of the worst sounds he never wants to hear in his life.
But that’s only just the beginning.
The first explosion rocked the plane violently forward, then topples without warning to their right. It throws them off with seatbelts tightening—making them grab around the seats, stomach in their throat as they keep their steady hold.
Misha looks outside to the cloud of smoke and crashing debris, his mind tuning only to the present and hears himself as well as Jensen and Richard cursing with jesuschrists. Misha doesn’t know. He was never a steadfast believer but for this one, he’s already calling out god.
The show’s influence is deeper than he thought. He thinks of all the near-death experiences he’s had but it’s nothing compared to this one. For one, he can only look at Jensen and the feeling sinks in the hollowness of his guts.
This is worse, much worse than the drop tower ride or any gyro drop his children always admired him for riding. No. Here the safety belts that kicked in didn't secure anything from the loud crashing sounds that pierced their ears, the shrill sound of the engine roaring like as it beat fragments unto the air leaving maybe nothing of its parts. How many engines are exploding?
Misha doesn’t close his eyes. He tries to deny the possibility that this is where him, Jensen— Alex, god Alex just got married! He’s so much more ahead of his life— and Rich just might finally find their end. An irony of life where the show that’s keeping their lives together now also on the way to its end. A kind of twist in reality that’s been shown by many, if not more famous names ahead of himself but Misha tries not to think about them. He tries not to think about the same profession that killed them. He can’t afford it, oh god his children…
He realized he didn’t even kiss West goodbye the morning he left. How he left the unkempt dish on the sink in a hurry. How he didn’t check Maison’s daily log of mischief she does while he’s away.
Now he may not return.
He closes his eyes as the plane shudders violently again. Please...
He calls Castiel’s name too, the back of his mind telling him they're dying. A more humorous, sadistic side of himself adding Dean is here, and that angel of Thursday isn’t going to let his husband die. They shouldn’t. He and Castiel shouldn’t.
But he’s no Castiel. He’s only Misha.
If anyone asked him how he felt when the plane steadies itself as the pilots pull for control, Misha is not sure anyone would believe him. For the briefest second, he feels this tug at the back of his mind telling him it will be alright and the remarkable part is, Misha believed it. Fucking believe the whisper.
That’s when everything settles down.
Misha quickly looks around at Jense, Rich, and Alex. All of them are pale and he knows he doesn’t look any better. He wants to throw up but the uncertainty of the flight kept him guarded, his grip on the armchair not loosening.
“You guys alright?” Jensen’s voice much deeper than Misha remembers barely managed a nod.
Alex is looking at the floor with concentration where laptops, neck pillows, cups, and stuff are all scattered on the ground. Richard looks as if he’s going to throw up the way he’s holding his stomach. Jensen is staring outside the right window while Misha tells himself to breathe.
“Are you alright?” comes Cliff’s low voice from behind Misha sounding obviously shaken too but still steady. Misha didn’t have time to collect himself. Not that he’s stupid, his body just doesn’t get it, but he quickly pulls his phone and begins texting Vicky and the children.
“What the hell happened?” Richard turns his head over the cockpit when the rumbling dies down.
“Right engine exploded.” Jensen is already unbuckling himself from his chair and casting everyone a look. “You all good? Mish? Cliff?” He doesn’t wait for answers. He shoots off to the cockpit and stops just by the door looking uncertain.
“Hey, uh… do we have a situation?” Nobody spoke while he was gone so it's easy to hear the response of the pilots ahead.
“We most certainly do. Get in your seat. Put on your seat belt. We’re doing emergency procedures.”
Calm. Collected. Professional. That’s all Misha had to hear. It doesn’t seem like he’s alone. Everyone else breathes in relief as they all watch Jensen amble back to his seat, nodding.
“Okay, you certainly have my attention, sir.”
He buckles up and lifts his chin. The look on their faces must’ve triggered Jensen to clap his hands together. “Hey, buckle up! Cliff, sit down. Rich, breathe, kay? It’s gonna be fine. It’s only one engine, guys, c’mon. This thing flies on three! You think Jared had anyone else to listen to about private jet education? We’re gonna be fine.”
Then like heaven-sent, the pilot begins giving them reports of the situation from the paging in a very clear and commanding voice. He tells them the right engine exploded which requires them to make a trip back to the nearest airport in Vancouver. That’s all he gives and a promise of an update as he wished everybody to stay calm and follow the protocol for emergency procedures.
“Hear that?” Jensen clears his throat, his hands clasping. Misha receives the full impact of the meaningful green eyes. The plane steadies itself with hum in the air. A full minute pass and the airplane did not drop.
“Fuck.”
Misha forces himself to relax as he drops his head back on his chair. He can’t feel his body. His hands are still trembling when he smacks it on his cold face. “Fuck!” He can’t seem to say anything other than that.
“Fuck, indeed.” Richard agrees, grabbing his phone, “Good thing I got my pods on, that sound coulda destroyed my ears.” he begins typing on his phone immediately. Alex begins a speed typing contest while Misha receives Vicky's reply after his first message.
‘Kids are mine, right?’
‘Because I cannot make them alone. What’s wrong?’- V
Misha goes on about the engine and the exchange of mail becomes rampant. When about twenty minutes pass with a few throws of questions around, Misha looks up when he hears the blubbing sound of whiskey. Jensen is pouring
“I’m gonna be drinking that scotch when I get back home,” he’s saying as he hands the glasses each to Richard, Alex and finally to Misha who shakes his head, putting the glass on the holder. Jensen takes the armchair beside him to which Misha is glad, especially when Jensen wounds his arm around his shoulder.
“We’re fine, Mish, stop shaking.” Jensen drops the side of his cheeks on Misha’s raven hair.
“I’m not,” Misha says shakily, wrapping his arms around Jensen’s torso and just pulling him into a tight hug. “Fuck!”
Continue reading: AO3
#cocklesdestielfiction#1kcockles#cockles#cocklesisreal#RPF#rpf fanfic#misha collins#jensen and misha#jensen ackles#emotional misha
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Fallen For You {smut}
Pairing: Bakugou x Reader
Words: 4.3k
AO3 Link:
Fantasy! Bakugou ruins the innocence of a cute lil angel :)
When Bakugou found your body lying in the empty grass field as you were what he presumed to be dead, he never expected himself to save you and allow you to live within his castle. He thought you were just going to be the next meal for a pack of hungry wolves or was just a trap set by another kingdom as a way to capture him. But when you woke up and told him that you were actually a fallen angel and had no memory of where you were, that’s when he realized just how real and rare the situation he was in. In all his years of ruling his castle and growing up, he never expected to come across an angel, only hearing those stories from old myths and stories that parents would tell their children before bedtime. The cross that was branded into your shoulder only strengthen your story and proved you weren’t lying, truly capturing how innocent and unharmed you had been throughout your life.
Going against his morals and setting his pride aside for the moment, he quickly took you in and tossed you onto the red dragon that accompanied him, taking you with him to the castle to not only give you a home, but a way to be safe. As much as people wanted to act like the world was full of perfect beings and everyone was morally right, he also knew just how many sick fuckers there were and how they would waste no time into selling you at some dirty market in the town. And for once he decided to take and protect another person, despite only knowing you for a few moments and being a complete stranger.
From there, everything was going great for you. You were given a new home that was not only clean and well-kept, but it was also gigantic and definitely had enough room for you to live there comfortably. When you tried to thank him and tell him that he didn’t need to do this for you, he only rolled his eyes and shrugged you off, clearly not wanting to hear your appreciation for his help. You now had a place to be safe, get fed, and be able to clean off and it was all free to you. You were beyond grateful for him, and the fact that he was also attractive didn’t help this situation. Although for him, this was torture. He told himself that he was only doing this because he was being nice that day, not because he found you a bit more likeable than others that he had met. He would actively ignore your compliments just so he wouldn’t have more fuel for these new and sudden feelings for you.
But as time progressed and he had already spent a few weeks with you in his castle, they got worse. Almost to the point where he ordered everyone to treat you the same as him, making sure you were fed and safe from anyone that dared tried to attack or ruin your innocence. As time went on, he also slowly became more open to you since you were by his side most of the time, he never ordered you or made you do chores so you opted to hang out with him instead of being constantly bored in your room. Whenever you tried to thank him for letting you stay with him, he would only huff and say something along the lines of “I had no choice, it was either that or you would get killed,” or “Stop thinking what I did was so nice, you would have gotten sold if I wasn’t there so it was the only logical thing, dumbass.” Regardless of his answer, you would still smile back at him, something that killed him on the inside.
One day while you were sitting next to his throne, you realized you never learned his full name, and that he never learned yours. All you knew was that his servants referred to him as King Bakugou, but you wanted to know more being that you were going to be with him for a long time, possibly forever.
“Ya know Bakugou,” you stared, his eyes glancing at you when you randomly started to speak. “I have been around you all this time and you never once told me your full name or learned mine. So, wanna spill?”
He only huffed and shook his head, a long silence following him afterwards. You took this as your answer and looked away from him, going back to mindlessly staring around the room.
“Katsuki,”
You turned your head towards him again when you heard his answer before speaking, “Huh?”
“My name. Katsuki Bakugou.” he stated again, keeping his gaze straight forward and away from yours.
You smiled brightly at his answer, a feeling of excitement flowing through you now that you knew you were getting closer to the grumpy blonde. “Oh, well mine is (Y/N)!” you responded cheerfully.
If you had been paying closer attention you would have heard him speak a soft “I know.” under his breath. He learned your name during the first week you arrived, overhearing his servants talking to one another about you, he just never found a reason to outright ask you about it. From then on, his feelings for you were starting to get more apparent to himself, the thoughts of you filled his mind daily and almost every time before he would fall asleep. Thoughts like, how your smile absolutely killed him, how you were able to make your way into his heart so easily, what would have happened if he never decided to take you. Thoughts like those were tossed around his head often, although he never put much thought into them and tried to push them back as far as possible, figuring that if he avoided them then they would just go away. But oh how wrong he was. Soon the thoughts started to become darker and naughtier. Thoughts like how you would sound under him, or how you tasted on his tongue, or how you would beg for him to please you. Thoughts like those frustrated to him on no end, only making his situation worsen as the days went on.
After it had been a few months of you staying with him, he had had it. He was going to take a dip into the water and see if you at least felt the same towards him. If he didn’t act upon his thoughts soon, it was going to kill him. It was early in the afternoon when he told one of his servants to ask you to come to his room and for the others to take the day off and find themselves entertained with something other than the two of you. You entered the room and closed the door behind you, finding it odd that he would request to see you here and not by his throne. But you figured it was just something that wasn’t important and went along with it. As he started to walk towards you, you noticed that his windows were half cracked as a soft breeze came in.
His eyes followed up your body, finding you clothed in the same damn white dress he met you in, the one you persisted on wearing all the time, although he was also the one that demanded for it to be washed carefully with how much he knew you liked it. It was flowing freely off you, your small cross necklace hanging from your neck and sat in the middle of your cleavage. Your expression showing that you were painfully oblivious to the type of thoughts he was having right now. You only tilted your head slightly as you saw his eyes started to darken up, expecting him to start ranting about one of his servants. But he didn’t.
His hand found and embraced your’s, tracing the back of it with his thumb as he continued to stare at you. His sudden gesture would have caused you to tense up, but now that you have been around him for a few weeks already, your body was starting to accept his touches without flinching. You were the first to break the gaze, looking down at your hand as his fingers slowly started trailing up to your forearm and still rubbing the small circles. You gave a soft smile to the feeling; it had been so long since you felt another humans touch that wasn’t rough. This was really the first time you were even touched this softly by another man. Soon his other hand wrapped around your waist, just lazily resting there as he stared at you. The sunlight peeking through the half-opened curtain was hitting your face perfectly, the wind lightly blowing your hair back and away from your face. If the growing pressure from his pants wasn’t this painful and straining, he would have loved to be able to permanently burn this image of you into his memory. As he continued to admire you, his hand went further up until it was perched near your shoulder, his fingers still moving in the same pattern as before. Your dress sleeve was starting to fall slightly, allowing him to let his fingers brush against your now exposed collarbone while his hand was still wrapped tightly around you.
God this was going agonizingly slow for him.
Right now, all he wanted to do was to take your innocence right then and there, ripping off your clothes and throwing you onto the bed to pound for several rounds. But he knew you. And he knew that he would have to slowly introduce you into these new feelings before he could ever go full speed. He had to remind himself that he was still the rough and savage beast of a king that had a blunt and spiteful mouth, and you were just the fragile angel -literally- that just so happened to fall into his rough hands. Two complete opposites that just so happened to cross paths and lead him to this lucky moment right now.
You looked up at him, your faces now inches away from each other. You smiled softly again, looking back down at your feet to avoid his hungry like looks. His hand moved from your shoulders to his neck, skipping up to your jawline and skimming over until he reached your chin. He tilted your head up, forcing you to look at him as his now dark crimson eyes stared back, full of emotion and something else you couldn’t figure out at the exact moment.
“(Y/N),” he stared, his breath fanning over you as he spoke. “Do you trust me?”
You thought about his question. You thought back to when he rescued you from almost dying, to when he took you into his extravagant castle just so you could have a place to sleep at night. You thought back to when he didn’t use your hidden identity for his own good, and didn’t throw you out to the local shopkeeper for a few extra coins. You thought about how he had gone through so much just to make sure you were safe and protected, and most importantly, felt at home. And you thought back to now, as he touched and held you in ways you would have never thought you would have allowed, remembering when you would wince away from any sudden movement of his.
“Yes Bakugou,” as you spoke his eyes widen slightly, this was the first time he heard you say his name, and he loved it. “I do trust you, one hundred percent.”
He smirked as you said this, pulling your waist closer to him as he drew your lips to him. You felt the movement and instinctively closed your eyes, both of your lips meeting in a soft yet passionate kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck, letting him take full control of the kiss as you followed in suit. The grip on your waist only got tighter, soft moans instinctively slipping from your mouth.
He pulled away, briefly noticing how heated your cheeks had already gotten, your lips looking even redder and plumper than before. He moved down towards your jawline, tilting your head away from him as he began to press quick and light kisses on the underside of your jaw. As he made his way down, he began to suck on your neck, making you tighten your hold around his neck and let out a soft whimper. He growled against your neck, your quiet noises only making his blood pump faster and his dick to start getting even harder.
“Let me take you then.” He said in between a growl, his sucking and biting starting to leave a mark on your pretty untouched skin.
You blushed at his words, embarrassment hitting you as you started to realize what he meant. “O-Okay.” you stuttered out, barely able to get the words out as your whole face felt like it was set ablaze.
Now that he was given full consent, he stopped holding back. He moved along your neck to make another mark, already pleased with how the first one had turned out to be. This time he was rougher, feeling him groan against your neck as he started to relentlessly suck against your soft skin. The feeling of his past statement and his nips towards your delicate skin almost made you feel light headed with a new underlying desire. It made your chest bubble up with excitement, almost as if you wanted to laugh out loud. But it also filled you with a sense of closure and sentiment towards the blonde. This was the first time anyone had been this affectionate towards you, or even another male being this close and pressed up to your body that wasn’t a friend. After effectively marking your neck for the second time, he pulled back to admire the now red and bruised looked mark, just more proof that he was slowly starting to deteriorate at the innocence you’ve had your whole life. Proof that he was going to be the one, and only one, ruining you tonight. The seemingly cold air against the new and hot mark made you let out a gasp, your hold on his neck never leaving.
He pulled back from you completely, just far enough for arms reach as he looked you up and down, like a hunter admiring its newly trapped prey. He quickly and roughly grabbed the back of your head, pulling your lips towards his before they clashed, causing a rough but fueled with passion kiss. He kept a hand tangled within your soft hair, his other trailed down to your dress straps and started to strip your shoulders from the cloth. After having to pause the intense make out session for a quick moment so he could fully let your dress sleeves come down, his rough hands started to grope the breasts that were still behind the lacey bra you were quite fond of.
He pulled away from your lips, his full attention was now focused on your chest and the movements of his hands. He quickly found himself getting bored with the groping and opted for the best and quickest way to fully touch you. His hands were positioned on either side of your chest, before he pulled his hands apart with enough force to rip the lacy bralette, a whine of frustration leaving your mouth. Now that your chest was fully exposed to him, he made quick work and attached his mouth to your bud, swirling his tongue around as he teased you. His warm and wet tongue made you gasp, your hands resting at the base of his neck as you threw your head back, arching your back closer towards him in the sudden pleasure. You could feel the faint pressure of his breathing on your chest as he continued to grope and suck on you, a feeling you were starting to enjoy the longer it went on. He didn’t let up with his sucking once he switched over to your other breast, showing it just the same amount of roughness and affection. You let out some soft moans and whimpers from his movements, thankful that the bedroom door was closed so none of the embarrassing noises could seep throughout the castle’s hall.
He pulled back from your breast and started to tug down the rest of your dress, eventually leaving you standing in only your panties. Your dress pooled around your ankles; his hand outstretched to help you step out of the removed garment. Your fingers wrapped around his perfectly, his body still keeping itself warmer than yours, another trait about him you started to get used to and appreciate. He brought you into a close embrace, his arms fully wrapped around you as he muttered a quick “jump,” and gave the back of your upper thigh a soft pat. You jumped into his arms, your legs attached around his lower abdomen and your arms back around his neck again. You snuggled closer into his neck with your eyes closed, feeling each of his footsteps as he walked over to his bed, an arm wrapped tightly around your waist and the other positioned underneath your thighs as support.
Once he reached his bed and his footsteps seized, he let go of you. Your body fell back gently onto the king-sized bed that was covered in various animal fur blankets, there for both warmth and a way to show off his prideful hunting skills. You brought your arms up to your chest, covering them in embarrassment as he stood over you almost fully clothed. The breeze from the partially opened window washed over your body, your nipples perking up again as the white lace canopy that hung from his tall bed posts swayed with the breeze, making the whole scene look even more angelic and innocent to him. He leaned over you, almost straddling your body as he pried away your hands, pinning them down next to your shoulders. He planted a few soft kisses across your neck and chest.
“What a cute little angel,” he praised against your skin in between kisses. You felt your cheeks heat up again, but for a different reason now.
After a few more kisses, he removed his grip from your wrists and started to trail down your stomach, stopping once he reached the waistband of your panties. He smirked once he noticed that they matched the bra of your’s he had just destroyed. He traced his fingers against your folds, already feeling how wet you were against the fabric and how desperate your whines for him started to sound. If he wasn’t feeling this needy for your body, he would have teased you about it, but that would have to be saved for another time. A time where he wasn’t feeling this type of hungry towards someone. He soon got bored with the teasing, forcing the panties to meet the same fate it’s matching partner was met with.
Now with your body on full display for him, he quickly got to work with warming you up. He brought up two fingers to his mouth, his tongue leaving a long strip of saliva against him before he started to stroke you again. Your hips bucked up in pleasure from the contact, the feeling of his fingers and his warm spit was new and almost addicting. His fingers started to pick up your wetness, allowing him to be able to slowly insert his finger into you. You let out a gasp at the new presence, feeling him start to pump in and out of you while his thumb rubbed against your clit in small circles. You felt as he slipped another finger in as you let out an embarrassingly loud moan, the feeling of his fingers curling up against your walls was starting to get to you. Your fingers gripped the bed sheets tightly, feeling his pride swell even more with how worked up you were getting with only his fingers.
“Aw, look how wet you’re getting just from my fingers,” he teased as he stared up at your form, your breasts bouncing as your body rocked with his movements and your head thrown back in the pile of pillows behind you. “You look like your about to cum at any moment, and we haven’t even gotten to the real shit.” You only moaned back at his comment, not having enough energy to form a response.
Right as you felt yourself start to tighten up around him, he removed all his fingers and pulled away you completely, making you whine out of annoyance. He stood up and finally started removing his pants as he continued to stare at your body, your chest heaving up in down as a result from the skillful work of his fingers and your cheeks red from both pleasure and embarrassment. He palmed himself outside his boxers a few times, he couldn’t wait any longer and he was hoping you were feeling the same. After a few more strokes, he quickly shed himself of the last layer of clothing, freeing his almost painfully throbbing boner. He took a hold of your ankles, giving a tug and drug your body closer to the end of the bed. Your legs were spread out on both sides of him as he started to line himself up with you, the anticipation was going to ruin him if he went any slower than he was already. He started to insert his tip, making you gasp out when you realize just how big and thick he really was. Slowly but surely, he sheathed himself until he was fully into you, noticing how tense and nervous you looked underneath him.
He leaned down to you, his arms caging you as he stared. “Relax,” he said in a deep but soft voice, the suggestion coming out more as a demand than anything. “Just relax, the more tense you are the worst it'll feel.” you nodded at his reassurance, you were starting to enjoy seeing the softer side that you had rarely seen up until this point. After a few moments of feeling your body start to relax, you gave him a small nod and he started to pull back his hips.
He slowly pushed himself back in, picking up speed with each thrust into your tight hole. The feeling of his dick moving in and out of you was starting to drive you crazy, feeling ten times better than when he was fingerfucking you. You moaned out against him, the sounds only making his cock harder as he started to quicken up his pace. His fingers started to grip into your hips, only helping him as he started to pound relentlessly into you. He watched the way your tits bounced up and down with each harsh thrust, the delicate silver chain from your cross necklace bouncing with you, only making the feeling of ruining your soft innocence even better. As much as he wanted to continue to fuck you into his mattress, the sounds of your breathy moans and how you were tightening up around him was starting to force himself to come closer on edge than he was used to.
“Fuck (Y/N).... you want me to keep ruining you… to keep making you a slut,” He grunted out, watching as you closed your eyes and moaned out while nodding along.
“Please Katsuki.. keep going,” you whined out, wrapping your legs around him as he continued to pound away into your virgin pussy.
“Please what? Use your words…ngh.. beg for it, beg to be my slut~” his thrusts started to slow down while he awaited your response.
“Please, ruin me… please make me your slut.” he didn’t wait for another second before he started to pound into you again, slowly letting himself start to let go of his control.
His hand wrapped around your neck, not applying any pressure but resting there almost as another way to show he was in complete control of you at the moment. Whimpers were spilling from your mouth and a feeling like fireworks awaking inside you as you felt yourself starting to cum, tightening around him which only made him let out a low and deep groan. He felt his balls start to tighten up and tried to pull out, but you tighten your thigh’s grip around his waist and quickly reached down to grab his cock, forcing himself back into you as he came. Thick stripes of his cum filled up your pussy, making your legs twitch at the warmth feeling of him claiming you.
“H-Holy shit,” He spoke lowly, feeling both turned on and shocked by you forcing him to cum inside you. After coming down from his high, he tried to catch his breath and ran a hand through his now sweaty hair, letting his palm rest over his eyes as he took a moment to take a rest.
Your legs were rested back down beside you, allowing him to be able to pull out and watched the combination of the both of your cum drip out of you. He laid down beside you and covered both of your bodies with a warm blanket, pulling you against him as your body started to tire itself out. You turned around to face him, pressing a quick kiss to his neck and gave him a soft smile.
“Thank you Katsuki,” your blinks were starting to slow down as your head rested against his bicep, allowing your body to take in the afterglow.
“Yea yea, whatever, just go to sleep angel.” he mumbled, looking away from you to hide the obvious blush that was coating his cheeks.
#bnha#bakugou#bnha bakugou#bakugou x reader#katsuki bakugou#mha bakugou#mha smut#bakugou smut#Smut#bnha katsuki#katsuki bakugo x reader#ik i haven't posted in forever sorry :(
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Daryl Dixon Drabble #5 Pt 1
Buckle up, fuckers. You can thank @crossbowking for this one.
ETA: this has become a 2 parter b/c my app didn’t save the rest of it :,)))) igkms
—
Thank God Daryl taught you how to track. Thank fucking God. Because you never would have thought about paying any attention to the fucking direction the grass had been trampled on towards, or the fact that some trash cans had been knocked over very recently — the only tell being the way they lacked the layer of dust everything else around them held. It was the small things, the attention to detail; and you were in such a spiraling panic, you were honestly surprised you remembered anything he’d ever taught you at all.
Your boots splashed in a fresh puddle and instantly your eyes shot downward — another hidden clue you never would have considered before you met him, all those lifetimes ago. Just barely visible was a separate footprint from yours, two, actually, that painted the otherwise dry asphalt beneath you, fresh enough that your heart sped up at the discovery. They both led the same direction, the same time, the same sense of urgency and haste behind them it seemed, as they continued forward in an obvious stumbling-sprint until they faded away outside of an old derelict gas station. You spun on your heels and headed straight for the garage.
The first thing you noticed was that the heavy metal door was ajar, just over a foot off of the ground, fresh blood smeared across the concrete beneath the opening. Somebody or something was inside, but the barefooted, rotten and decaying bottom-half of a corpse that protruded from the opposite side had you halting in your tracks: was that the source of the blood? No — the body was obviously that of a walker, the pant legs tattered and torn and stained with blacks and browns and greens, the exposed skin of its feet a grotesque shade of grey, maggots and worms slithering around the heel, and you swallowed the bile that rose up in your throat. No way their blood was that fresh.
So you rounded the corner and peered quietly through the sagging chain link fence, barbed wire snagging the flyaway hairs not contained in your messy ponytail, and your heart dropped at the sight that greeted you.
Walkers, some alive, some dead, no less than a dozen of them. Some wandered in aimless circles around the old scrap yard, but most of them were pressed unceremoniously against the boarded up window, jaws snapping hungrily, impatiently, in such a way that proved your suspicions that somebody was definitely inside of that gas station.
And if Daryl’s lessons had done you any good at all, you were positive it was him that had led you there.
You didn’t think you’d stopped shaking since you left Hilltop hours ago. In fact, you knew for a fact that you hadn’t been coherent or in any state of mind when you ran through the gates, furious and terrified and nauseas along another whirlwind of emotions that you couldn’t pinpoint after being told that Daryl left by himself to track down Alpha and try to right all the latest wrongs that psychopath had rained down upon your friends and family. Someone had been yelling at you to stop, the same way you surely would’ve been yelling at Daryl had he not snuck out one night right underneath your fucking nose. Nobody followed you out, though. And you didn’t particularly care.
Sure, you were just as worried about Connie and Magna as everyone else. But you knew Daryl better than them — better than anybody did. And you knew the way his brain worked, how it always carried the weight of his loved ones problems, how he accepted the blame even when it had nothing to do with anything he did or could have done. He was so self-destructive, thought himself so unworthy if he couldn’t keep you or your family safe. He would, quite literally, go to the ends of the earth for those he cared about... whether or not it killed him. And if your crippling apprehension told you anything, it was that this particular instance would be no different, and considering the scene you’d just been walked into...
Clammy, trembling hands latched onto the rusty handle of the garage door before you thought better of trying to haul it open and instead laid down flat to army crawl beneath the gap, trying your best to ignore the pool of blood at your right and the corpse at your left. Everything seemed so loud, so hard to ignore, and you were so hyper aware of any and every detail that led you to believe that the worst-case-scenario was indeed the one you were about to be faced with.
It was dark inside the garage, the only light source being rays of dull, dreary outside-world that broke through the rotted wooden boards that would’ve sealed the place up tight four or five years ago. A blanket of dust should’ve covered the steel barstool that was toppled over in front of the man door, but it was much cleaner than anything else surrounding it, and droplets of blood painted a trail over top of it and into the store, beckoning for you to follow them.
You swallowed hard. We’re you even prepared to see what sights may present themselves on the other side of the gas station? The thought had you hesitating, had your breath hitching in your throat and your heart ceasing to beat entirely. But the fear that was threatening to suffocate you was the same impetus that had you raising your combat rifle to your shoulder, poised and ready to fire, as you crept slowly across the threshold with anxiety so deep and heavy in your bones that you weren’t positive you wouldn’t pass out before you found what you were looking for... whatever that was.
The store was a mess, clearly a recent endeavor, with expired foods and liquids covering the floor amongst shattered glass and splinters of wood and blood. So much fucking blood. Footprints that had stormed through it, handprints that slid down the wall, splattering the grimy lockers and old magazine clippings like some sort of abstract art exhibit compiled of your deepest fears. You were almost too scared to explore further — but the smallest sliver of hope that you’d learned to believe in had you pressing forward, Daryl’s reassuring voice in your ears among the obnoxious ringing that told you that, oh yeah, you might actually fucking pass out.
Thank fucking God Daryl had taught you how to track.
If you’d maybe stumbled upon a deer you’d been following, laying motionless against the display counter with a hunting knife lodged into the meat of its thigh, you might have been proud of yourself. You might have even turned to Daryl and smiled in spite of yourself, sticking your tongue out. ‘I told you I could do it,’ you’d tell him happily as you knelt down and began to skin and prepare it to come back home with you, and he would fight a proud smile of his own, rolling his eyes, ‘Yea, only ‘cause I taught ya how to.’
But any obscure, minuscule thought of potential pride and success was shattered and gone in milliseconds. Hell, it was hardly even a fleeting thought, and you actually found yourself momentarily disappointed in your actions as you let your rifle carelessly slip from your fingers and clash against the ground loudly. Instantly forgotten. In fact, the tip of your boot even kicked it aside for emphasis of your stupidity as you strode forward to the crumpled being laying still and silent against the disheveled wooden counter, head lulled to the side, bloody knife handle protruding from his leg.
His name stuck in your throat painfully as you collapsed to the ground by his side, hands hovering uselessly overtop of him with the desire to try and help but lacking any knowledge on how to do so. He was bloody, beaten, pale — so fucking pale, so still and please God please please please he was cold. Cold, but the shallow rise and fall of his chest seemed to breathe more life into you than it was him, literally and figuratively.
The tears that sprung to your eyes actually hurt, blurring your vision, which seemed to be the only working sense you had as everything else seemed to freeze inside you and around you, leaving you absolutely fucking useless.
You shook your head. “Daryl,” you gasped, the breath it took to say his name unintentionally allowing a sob to escape simultaneously. “Daryl?”
He didn’t stir. We’re you not loud enough? “Daryl!” Maybe he just couldn’t hear you. You reached out and gripped his shoulders, fingers intertwining into the fabric of his canvas vest, clutching like a lifeline that would cement your debilitating fears if you let go and let him fall away from you. “Daryl! Fuck — wake up!”
If you’d ever been a religious person, that moment would’ve been the exact time you dedicated your life and afterlife to whatever higher being you believed in when, holy shit, he let out a pathetic whimper that both broke your heart in two and kicked your adrenaline into overdrive but also allowed it all escape you in the form of your own racking sob.
“Oh, my God — fuck, fuck, fuck, Daryl, please — wh — what did you do?” You fought the urge to grip the handle of the knife that was stuck into his thigh and yank it out furiously. “What the fuck did you do?”
You at least had the sense to untie the bandana from around your neck, clumsily and hastily, and secure it tightly around his thigh above the wound, praying to anything that would listen that maybe it would help.
His head lulled softly toward you with another soft whine and fell limply, and you threw your hands to your own face and frantically brushed your hair from your face and wiped your eyes and scratched at your scalp, pulling your hair, and you were panicking, absolutely reeling, if Daryl was here he’d be lecturing you so bad, but he’s not here because he’s laying in front of you almost fucking dead, no he’s not dead, he’s breathing, barely, how do I fix him? How do I help? Do I take the knife out? No, no you can’t fucking do that, you dumbass, what if it hit an artery? He’ll bleed out before you can even... oh, God, his head’s bleeding, gotta stop the bleeding, gotta stop the bleeding...
What the fuck were you supposed to do? You had some bandages in your bag, some sutures and needles, some alcohol... you tore blindly through it, retrieving the liquid and wraps and dropping them stupidly on your lap like you’ve never had to clean and dress a wound before in your entire life.
Once again you had to furiously wipe the tears from your eyes as they skewed your vision, smearing fresh blood his fucking blood, it’s everywhere, please please please no no no across your cheeks and it burnt your skin, taunting you, ticking loudly like an alarm clock that was about to run out right before your eyes.
He’s gonna die. He’s gonna fucking die and you were too late.
—
Also hey this is loosely based off of last nights episode that I didn’t want bc I can’t emotionally handle watching Daryl get hurt bc I’m a mess so sorry if it made no sense or was wrong!! Xoxoxo
Stay tuned for part 2 that I have to rewrite...........
#the walking dead daryl#the walking dead fanfic#daryl dixon#daryl dixon fanfic#twd daryl#daryl dixon fanfiction#daryl dixon drabble#the walking dead drabble#daryl dixon x reader
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stone cold - chapter 1
honor & whiskey
mob!dean-charles chapman au
warnings: strong language, violence, drinking, smoking, mentions of abuse
word count: 1.6k
series masterlist
“Okay, when you’re ready just turn the safety off, take a deep breath, and-”
“Dad, I know how to shoot a fucking gun,” I said annoyed, instantly pulling the trigger and hitting the target right in the neck.
Dad sighed and walked up to the rubber dummy target and shook his head, “why the fuck would you shoot him in the neck? Do you know how messy and unnecessary that is?”
I shrugged and stared at the dummy, “it gets the job done.”
My dad shook his head and walked over to me, putting his finger directly in my face, “No, what it does is it causes a fucking crime scene for you and then you’re putting everything at risk. You, the family, and our business.”
I didn’t even listen to a word he was saying, all I could think about was the feeling of my fist hitting him right in the nose, knocking him right the fuck out.
“You’re not even fucking paying attention,” My dad ripped the gun out of my grip and put it back in his holster, “You need to take this seriously, I’ve got your fucking grandfather up my ass talking about how you’re not ready and he doesn’t think you’ll ever be ready.”
I scoffed, “I’m fucking ready. I’ve been ready. You guys act like I just started learning all of this when I really I’ve been a part of it since I was little, but you wouldn’t know that.” My dad just looked at me timidly then turned around and walked back to the house as I smirked to myself.
Bringing up the past, more specifically, bringing up instances on how he did a really shit job “raising” me was my favorite thing to do. He never cared if I walked in on him beating the shit out of someone and on school nights I’d fall asleep at night to the sound of yelling, shit breaking, and gunshots. Father of the fucking century, right?
Everything I do is usually just to spite him.
___________________
After the “disappearance” of my mother, my dad claimed that she ran away and abandoned me but I always knew that was a load of bullshit. Other people in town knew it was a load of bullshit too but they’d never try and go snitch or talk shit about the big bad Leo Stone, that’s just suicidal.
By my douchebag of a grandfather’s constant demanding, my dad ended up getting my last name legally changed to ‘Stone’. But because I love being a dickhead, right as I turned 18, I went through the long and torturous process of changing it back to Chapman.
This, of course, went super well with both my dad and grandpa.
“YOU FUCKING DID WHAT?”
“Dean, you better be fucking joking.”
I put my hands in my pockets and shrugged at my dad, “I’m not. Why does it matter? Can I not keep my mother’s last name to honor her?”
“Honor her?? She fucking abandoned you, Dean!” My grandpa said in a scolding tone.
My whipped over to where he was standing, I clenched my jaw and tilted my head, “I think we all know she didn’t fucking abandon me,” I hissed back at him. The hatred I felt for him coursed through my body as I felt my blood boil.
He walked over to me in a menacing way and looked down at me, “and what is that supposed to mean?” He asked me condescendingly.
I stared back into his dark and cold eyes, not backing down, “did you help him? Or were you the mastermind behind it all and he was just your bitch?”
My grandpa chuckled at me, my eyebrows raised as I was trying to figure out what the fuck was so funny until he slammed me into the bookshelf behind me and wrapped his hand around my neck, “You better learn some god damn respect and remember who the fuck you’re talking to. I suggest you quit running that mouth because only bad things will happen. Get your head out of your ass and step the fuck up because soon, you’ll be the one running things and I swear to god if you fuck up what I worked so hard to build, I will fucking kill you myself.”
I wish I could just put this fucker in a nursing home and let him rot there.
___________________
It was always expected that I was going to take over the “Family business” but I kind of expected to do it before I was 22, my dad was only 18 when he took charge. Honestly, I think my dad and grandpa just don’t trust me, I don’t blame them.
Fuck them and fuck the family business.
Today though, on my 22nd birthday, my present is taking over this absolute shit show business from my father. I wish I could get it in one of those big ass red bows.
All I physically got was a copy of a contract I signed and an awkward handshake from my dad, grandpa, and a couple of other guys that bored the shit out of me with information about my duties and priorities and a bunch of other crap that I couldn’t care less about.
My dad got glasses for all of us and poured in a bit of whiskey in each glass and handed them out and began to speak as the room went quiet.
“Dean, I’ve been waiting for this day for a long time. Ever since you were young I could see this spark in you that made me feel like you could bring new and big things into this business to make it thrive even more than it already is. I believe in you, I love you, and I'm proud of you. To Dean,” My dad said, raising his glass up. Everyone followed and touched glasses together, repeating him. I gave a small smile and tipped my glass back, quickly swallowing the whiskey.
If I was gonna deal with my dad and grandpa’s phony “I’m so proud of you and I love you, you’re gonna do great things” bullshit all day then I was gonna need to get really fucking drunk.
I poured myself another glass and chugged it down before going outside to light a cigarette. I took a long drag and blew it out with a heavy sigh.
“Those things will kill you, you know,” My father’s voice came from behind me as he was lighting up one.
I stared at him completely dumbfounded, “and yet you’re smoking one right now,” I take another drag and start kicking the gravel in the driveway to distract myself from twhatever bullshit was about to spew from my father’s mouth.
He watches me as he sits on the stairs to the front door, “Dean, I hope you know what you’re getting into it cause to me it just seems like you don’t or that you just don’t give a fuck. I need you to give a fuck Dean.”
I chuckle and turn to him, throwing my cigarette on the ground, “Don’t try and tell me what you think. You don’t know me and you never tried to know me. You never tried to be a father, I had to raise myself. You fucked and then fired every fucking nanny I had but with the short time they were here, they knew more about me than you ever had.” I clenched my jaw and walked closer to him with my fists clenched.
He looked up at me and grinned, “You gonna hit me? Go ahead.” He blew a puff a smoke up into my face and waited.
There’s only been a few times in my life that I’ve hit my father and the consequence? He’d beat the absolute shit out of me and scream about how much of a disrespectful, useless asshole I was. The first time he did that I was 15 years old.
Like I said before, father of the fucking century.
My father stood up and sighed, closing the distance between us, “You lack honor for this family. That’s how I know you won’t succeed unless you straighten the fuck up.”
I could feel my face getting hot and my fists were shaking, “Honor? Where the fuck was your honor for your wife? Where the fuck was your honor for my FUCKING MOTHER?” I screamed in his face.
I could never cry over her. I couldn’t feel sadness, just complete anger. I never actually cried over anything, I could never feel so sad, happy, or angry over something that I just cried. My only release was the feeling of pulling the trigger, drinking or fighting.
“Are you done?” My father asked as if he was talking to a small child that was throwing a temper tantrum.
I shook my head, backing away from him and turned around so I didn’t have to look at that stupid grin he always had when I backed down.
“Your grandfather and I have some things we need to take care of tomorrow, you’re gonna come with us,” He stated as he walked back up the stairs.
“Oh, and Happy Birthday son,” he called out as he went back inside.
All the rage I felt was still there. I was sweating, short of breath and my hands continued to shake.
“I FUCKING HATE YOU!” I yelled out, facing my house hoping the pricks in there could hear me.
I knew my outbursts weren’t doing anything but I needed to give them something. They knew I had a temper that made me act out and I continued to act out and have a shitty attitude.
I needed something to distract them with. While they try to fix me and make me the “honorable” men that they were, I was going to take everything from them and then blow their fucking brains out.
____________
read chapter 2
#dean charles chapman#dean charles chapman imagine#dean charles chapman fanfiction#dean charles chapman au#mob!dean#dean-charles chapman
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So I recently got back into Warhammer 40k, and have been doing what I always do when I get interested in big, decades-old canons with mountains of lore...First I spend 36 hours straight on tv tropes and the fandom wikis, and then I inflict my insomnia-gained knowledge on my closest friends via discord.
Gallus: Guilliman is the Hades of the primarchs
Gallus: the only one who knows what he's doing and therefore VIOLENTLY boring until he decides to do something trollish to a deserving party
This inevitably turns out to be the BEST possible decision I could have made.
Drake: a lot about the Imperium could be summed up as "but y tho" "cause HASHTAG AESTHETICS!!!!!" and then someone declares Exterminatus on your planet
Gallus: Techpriest: Whatcha got there? Cherub: A kNiFe! Techpriest: NO!
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Gallus: roubotte has had 'y tho' distilled into it's purest emotional form and produced to such excess from the imperial shenanigans that it's replaced his blood and he now runs on pure incredulity
Roubotte, Banging a pair of baking sheets together over Lion: WAKE UP MOTHER FUCKER i'M NOT DEALING WITH THEM ALL BY MYSELF.
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Gallus: Im writing Roubotte and Lion as having like something approaching normal brother dynamics in spite of everything because it confuses the living shit out of everyone else
but them just Ye Ancient memes (T-Posing at each other for mock dominance) random bouts of cain instinct, resulting in one just. Slapping the shit out of the other with a holy reliquary or something, just for shits teaming up to back eachother up on random shit before going back to trying to nurple eachother
Lion, leaning over Roubotte: bothering roubotte just to annoy him
Roubotte; Go be a furry somewhere else.
some imperial carndinal or whatever in the room: ...go be a wHAT?
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Drake: the Imperium Secundus is hilarious though
Roboute, Lion, and Sanguinius are in ultramar when they get a bunch of garbled messages that Horus has gone totally off his rocker and declared war against dad, everything's on fire and everyone's screaming, and then
they lose contact
with Terra
and get stuck on the wrong side of a huge warp storm
so Roboute decides that the only sensible thing to do in this situation is declare a new empire and make Sanguinius the Emperor
Gallus: ...In that scenario, assuming earth is gone is not unreasobable
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Gallus: Drake
Drake being the emperor is MORE WORK
and he has so much already
also everyone already loves Sangria
from an admin standpoint this is AMAZING marketing that will save him many headaches later
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Gallus: maybe they rock-paper-scissored for it and sanguinus lost
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Drake: intentionally or not Lion is AUTISTIC AS HELL
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Gallus: what I'm hearing tho is that Lion didn't trust himself to be Emperor and Roubotte didn't want to so they mutually bullied the most emotionally manipulatable sibling into it
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Gallus: they're gonna steal Lion out of the monastery somehow
for some extremely stupid reason
possibly with the intent to Weekend At Bernies him for a bit
Until Lion actually wakes up while like
sitting at the breakfast table on The SpaceBoat Castle Fuck Mountain
it was the smell of bacon that got him
He's very confused also hungry
There's a Pigeon though they don't usually hang around danger
oh Dad there's the hangover
also: Roubotte and Lion causally referring to His Holiness The God Emperor as "Dad"
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Drake: one of the first things Roboute did after waking up, in canon, was go to Terra and visit the throne room
nobody knows what happened in there but he emerged with new determination to fix all this bullshit
I mention this entirely so he can pull the "Dad said I'm in charge" card on Lion for petty bullshit
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Gallus: Presumably he went in, saw the state of things, wne "FUUUUUUUUUCK" for like 2 hours then decided that since Sanguinus is dead HE has to be the respeonsible child now so GUESS IT'S UP TO HIM NOW
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Lion: I want to listen to Space Celine Dion
Roboute: Well Dad said I'm in charge so we're listening to Space Kansas instead.
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Gallus: [OC] has Chaotic Stepsibling Energy
Drake: But not Chaotic Chaotic because that would be bad
Gallus: troo
chaotic with the smol c
Drake: there we go
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Drake: Chaos is why half the brothers are permanently uninvited from Family Game Night
yes that especially includes you Lorgar
you know what you did
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Gallus: what did lorgar do
Drake: Everything.
Gallus: kinky
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Drake: you know how some Christian rock music could be mistaken for gay love anthems if the names were changed?
Gallus: uh oh
Drake: now imagine if Jesus is standing right there on the stage and only likes you as a friend
Gallus: oh no
Drake: also he considers orbital bombardments a valid communication tool
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Gallus: yeah this might inspire a mentally unbalanced superhuman do go do space murder heroin
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Gallus: this whole thing reads like an unusally genocidical episode of Jerry Springer
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