you are a legend for this, and i think everyone should be personally thanking you for this absolutely massive brained, pussy altering, dick twinging idea.

wc // 1.4k

tags // 18+ ONLY, afab reader (no pronouns mentioned), bottom!Ghost, top!reader, strap on, stomach bulge, overstimulation, crying, no aftercare written but i promise simon gets all the kisses and cuddles needed after <33

Harsh sounds of wet skin slapping obscenely together echoes against the pastel painted walls of your bedroom; the low light of a full moon casting a perfect spotlight on the mattress, highlighting every rippling muscle in the back of the man who lies under you. His fingers are gripping onto loose, scrunched sheets, knuckles white and veins popping, as though his tight hold on sullied bed linen is the last frayed thread keeping his sanity together.

"Fucking shit," parted lips practically whine, shining with drool in the dim light of the darkened sky above, painting a picture you commit to memory for a lonely night where your hand is your only solace.

“Feels good to get fucked, doesn’t it baby?” You croon, fingers caressing the scarred skin of his thighs, so hot to the touch, slick with sweat and lube, “Knew you’d like this, fuckin’ knew you’d be a slut for strap.” You don’t get a verbal response, just deep, intoxicating groans that reverberate through the mattress, positively drunk on power as you watch this military enigma, this well-respected, commanding figure fall apart from under you. Because of you.

You slow your hips, leaning back on your knees just to watch the way silicone so deliciously stretches his pink rim. Hungry eyes observing just how easily it swallows every inch given to it so fucking greedily, still fluttering around the base of your strap, as though all ten inches of thick cock buried within his body wasn’t enough, as if he somehow needs more.

Simon Riley looks nothing less than pornographic when he gets fucked, skin burning red, lips parted in the perfect little ‘o’, hips wantonly canting back against yours because he can think of nothing else but how fucking incredible he feels. And it’s not at all fair, because when he leaves you for weeks on end, all you can think about is this. How taut muscle ripples under your fingertips, so sensitive to every touch against his skin, no matter how feather-light. Haunted by the way his usually baritone growl pitches up, wrecked whines replacing low grunts with every forceful thrust.

“Turn over for me baby, want to see how pretty you look when you cum on my strap.”

Solid fingers unfurl from the sheets, leaving indents in their place as he shakily attempts to turn over, the only aid you offer coming in the form of pulling the silicone cock from his abused hole with a satisfying pop, reveling in his responding disgruntled huff.

His back hits the mattress not long after, built thighs automatically spreading, coaxing you like a siren call as you shuffle ever closer, fingernails dragging from his kneecap to his inner thigh, perfect red marks left in their wake. God, he’s a vision like this. Sultry, lidded eyes stare up at you, pupils engulfing his irises, leaving only vacant black in its place, gazing at you as though you are all he’s ever needed, as though he'd kiss the ground if he knew you'd walked on it. Thick, tattooed arms come to hook under his knees, pulling up until they meet rounded pecks, resting just under perked, dusty nipples. The sight alone has you leaking, your inner thighs soaked with arousal under the thick harness straps, clit throbbing with need, unstimulated and wanting. So desperately wanting. But you hardly feel it, no fingers against your sex could even come close to the feeling of lining up a silicone tip with his presented hole, clenching lewdly around air, beckoning you to fill him to the hilt once again.

Nothing, however, could have prepared you for the sight that awaits you as the strap sinks effortlessly into his hole. Flat, muscled skin gives way to plastic, rising in the perfect imprint of your cock, growing ever larger until hips meet flush against his ass. You can’t take your eyes of it, both hands moving down to push against his distended abdomen, desperate to check if your mind is deceiving you, if your strap is actually moulding his body into a perfect fleshlight, just for you.

“Fuckin’ hell, don’t-,” A hitch in his breath as your fingers curl over the bump, ignoring the harsh twitch of his cock as it bobs above your hand, “Don’t do that, don’t wanna cum yet.”

Molten eyes flick up to meet his head on, a challenge set like steel in your mind as you withdraw your hips, palms still pressing down against his now flat stomach. Chestnut brown hair hits the pillow the second you begin to fuck him with earnest, leaning your weight on your hands just to hear the frenzied curses and pleas that fall from his pretty lips, barely able to see past his chin from where his head is thrown back.

“Who said you were only cumming once tonight, Simon?” Your words punctuated with every sharp smack of hips against his ass and inner thighs, the skin stinging red with every brutal slap. With near perfect timing, Simon’s cries pitch up to a decibel you never thought possible from him, watching with nothing less than unconstrained awe as thick streams of white coat his skin all the way up to his sternum, dripping down onto your hands, his cock twitching helplessly as he comes untouched on your strap.

But you don’t relent, not for a second. Your hips don’t falter, fucking him through his climax until he’s shaking from overstimulation, his spent cock weeping pathetically where it rests on his abdomen, cum coated hands leaving his stomach only to play torturously with the dark red head of his dick.

It takes you a moment to realise, so caught up in his pleasure that you don’t notice his chin tilt down, not until you hear it. A sniffle. One glance is all it takes to see that you’ve reduced Simon to tears, wide yearning eyes shine so perfectly in the moonlight, pretty tear tracks running down red blotched cheeks, streaming down his jugular where they pool in indented collarbones. You’ve never wanted to lick something more in your entire life, knowing without doubt that salted tears would melt to saccharine sugar on your tongue, the taste of pure, unadulterated pleasure.

The sight only spurs you on further, thrusts increasing to a near feverish pace, chasing a high that will never come for you, but you don’t care, nothing else matters in this moment more than the man who lays under you, twitching, squirming, and crying, begging for more, sobbing for less, desperate for you. You can’t choose where to look, given an impossible choice of staring at his wrecked face, or the ever-present bulge that raises at every cant of your hips, eventually settling for the latter, eyes near drilling holes into the imprint of your strap from where it’s buried within him.

Pathetic, whimpered babbles drip from Simon’s lips, his eyes unfocused, blurred by tears and blinded by overwhelming pleasure, unable to do anything but lie there and take it, take everything you’re willing to give him with no complaints, just unconditional obedience. And fuck, does it suit him, he wears submission like he’s made for it, crafted so perfectly to give everything that he is over to your trusted hands. It makes you feel like a God.

It only takes a fingertip, dragged from his balls up to his frenulum before he’s pushed over the edge once again, his red, swollen hole spasming around unyielding plastic, sucking your strap in, forcing you to remain still as weak spurts of cum drips down the bloated skin of his abs, joining dried seed from his previous climax, painting the perfect picture of bliss on his skin.

And whilst Simon lies there, chest heaving and eyes painted with pretty stars formed by unshed tears, you can’t help but lean to the side and grab your phone, capturing the moment with shaking hands.

After all, you’ll need this photo for when Simon is away again, to remind yourself that you are the only person on the face of this Earth to ever have earned his submission. To ever reduce him to a mess of his own release and tears.

And as you throw your phone to the side, lowering your chest to lay flush with his, lips meeting in a soft, adoring kiss, you know he’s all you’ll ever need and so, so much more.

hello! i hope you're doing well~

can i request headcanons (or with scenario if you'd like) where bakugo's s/o falls asleep on him while crying 🥺 and if it's okay with you, can s/o have the emotion deprivation quirk because i really loved those hcs you made before :)))

i really really love your blog btw. your writing is always sweet and fun to read ❤

passing out after crying on them

character(s) : bakugou katsuki, shinsou hitoshi

legend : [Y/N = your name] they/them pronouns, emotion deprivation quirk— the more you suppress your emotions, the more power you get.

headcanons : hurt and comfort, but mostly comfort.

note(s) : thank you for the love anon :)) i also added shinsou because i thought this concept fitted well with him too :))

»»————-　♡　————-««

bakugou katsuki

you were really unreadable— you’d understand that because of the nature of your quirk. however, being with katsuki gave him the ability to read you and your mannerisms

if your nails dug into your palms, that probably meant that your day was shit, if you kept looking at your nails, it means you’re trying not to cry, and running your hands across the surface meant that you were happy.

and unfortunately, he caught the sight of you digging your nails into your hands, not enough to actually do any harm but.. enough to keep you ‘focused’

he wants you to be comfortable enough to go to him with your problems, but then again— it was always something you struggled with, so he wasn’t expecting it

so now you’re alone with him, walking along the corridors of the dorms— and none of you guys are saying much.

“get in here,” he says, grabbing your wrist as he yanks you into his room, immediately setting you down on his bed.

“i don’t know what happened with you, but i don’t fuckin like seeing it.” he sets your head on the soft pillows, an arm bringing you close in positions

“nothing really happened,”

“yeah? then why the hell were you doing that then?” his words sound rather harsh, but he’s not raising his voice at you “you know what i mean.”

“i’m sorry, it’s just.. exhausting. having to suppress my emotions for long periods of time. i don’t know what to do because i’ll..”

and that’s when you start crying, which was probably the last thing on your check list— you’re getting his pillows wet, he’s not saying anything, you can feel yourself getting weaker

all of the doubts in your head run wild, and bakugou only shoves your head onto his chest “idiot, stop it with the apologies already. just let go.”

and you do exactly that. you heave into his chest, bawling like it’s been forever since you’ve done so. you’re getting his shirt wet, but katsuki couldn’t seem to care— he’s just glad that his hands are emitting enough heat

your ragged breathing eventually blended into soft breathing— you don’t seem to be shaking in tremors anymore, and he’s glad

he takes a look at your face. you’re out like a baby, cheeks still damp and your eyelashes were wet with tears.

“idiot Y/N,” he mutters to himself, wiping your damp face with his thumb, “you’re out like a baby. you’re not gonna hear this but next time, don’t be so stiff with coming forward to me for help.”

“i’m the last person that’s gonna judge you, i do love you after all. it might not seem like it but i really really really do.” he presses a kiss against the back of your ear.

he’s going to try to not wake you up, as he gets up from the bed— sprinting downstairs to prepare some water that he’s gonna force you to drink down later

when you wake up, you bet he’s making you put a cool towel on your eyes, reducing the puffiness as he has you on his lap.

shinsou hitoshi

can also tell if you had a good or bad day, and he really hates seeing you so.. miserable.

he can tell that you have so many thoughts in that head of yours, because of that powerful quirk. those were one of the few times he wished he had aizawa’s quirk.

he frowns when he sees you suffer in absolute silence, even though you’re wearing the most neutral face he has ever seen, he can quite literally see it— because you’re fidgetting with your hands on your lap.

unlike bakugou, the first thing he’ll talk to you about is how you’re feeling— the moment you guys are alone.

don’t try to deny it, because he knows already— this is just him giving you a heads up, just letting you know that he’s about to coddle you.

actions speak louder than words in moments like this, he has you pressed against him on the bed— allowing your arms to wrap around his torso like lifeline

“you don’t have to say anything right now, Y/N.” he reassures you, “let it happen.”

as if it was on command, your eyes water— and you shove your head onto his shoulder, finally breaking the barriers you were desperately trying to keep up.

you’re vunerable, a mess, and hitoshi allows you to cry like there’s no tomorrow— only resting his hand on your back, rubbing soft circles there

when you start shaking, hiccups escaping your lips— he panics for a moment, because you’re on the cusp of going into a panic attack

but that’s also when his baritone voice starts giving out soft instructions on stabilizing your breathing pattern. his quirk would always be the very last option.

and when the storm has finally calmed, your eyes flutter— a sudden wave of sleepiness washing over you, and you just allow yourself to fall asleep in his hold

he sighs in relief, and he doesn’t care that his sweater suddenly became soaked with your tears, it allow him to carry some of your burden— he’s just holding you with all of his attention.

his violet irises soften in adoration, and he’s kissing your tears off your cheeks, moving anything out of your face.

hitoshi being hitoshi wouldn’t be able to sleep, but he’ll spend a good moment thinking about what he’ll talk about with you the moment you wake up, and he’ll pask you about your issue, and how he can help.

but for now, he’s just thankful that you have so much trust him— to the point you’re okay with being vunerable around him, and he’s just so proud of you.

“sleep well, kitten. i love you a lot, please remember that.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

likes and reblogs are appreciated, thanks for reading!

i do not own bnha/mha and it’s characters, boku no hero academia/my hero academia belongs to horikoshi kohei. i only own the writing, and i don’t profit off my hobby.

do not plagiarize, reupload, translate, or use my works for audio readings without permission :))

this draft is not even close to presentable yet but i have to give you something from it 

“What’s it like, waking up every day and knowing you’re a fuckin’ legend?” 

Em grimaces. “C’mon.” 

“What? Why do you hate it so much when I say shit like that?” 

“‘cause it makes you sound like a fanboy. Hold still.” 

Em is in the middle of bandaging a gnarly cut Colson had inflicted upon himself while trying to unclog Em’s garbage disposal, against his insistence that he would call his guy to come fix it. Colson had, of course, used a knife for his ill-fated attempt. He simply can’t resist an opportunity to possibly do something (anything) that Em couldn’t do much better himself. It’s not the first time he’s accidentally gotten hurt as a result. 

“Well, I was a fanboy, remember? For, like, most of my life? I was kinda in love with you when I was a kid.” 

Ha, Colson thinks, self-reproachfully, coward. 

Em finishes with the bandage, and sort of strokes a thumb over it for a second, before he releases Colson’s hand and says, quietly, “Glad you grew out of it.” 

What does that mean, Colson desperately wishes he could scream at him, I want to know everything you’re thinking and feeling. I want to be inside you.

“Maybe I didn’t,” Colson says, adrenaline setting his body alight. 

Em gives him a look like he’s sizing him up. “You did,” he says definitively, after a beat, “‘cause that version of me don’t exist no more.” 

“What if I like this version of you better,” Colson mumbles, his heart caught in his throat.

Something flickers in Em’s eyes that Colson is too keyed-up to interpret.

“Why would you?” Em asks, looking like he genuinely doesn’t understand. “Most people - excluding friends and family - clearly miss that other guy.” 

“Are we not friends?” The answer to this question is so important to Colson that he really doesn’t know what he’d do if Em said no, of course they’re not friends, and is Colson stupid or something? He’d probably straight-up die.

Em’s mouth twitches like it does when he’s trying his best not to smile.

Thank god.

“Sure we’re friends,” Em says, “but you don’t know me like that.” 

“Let’s fix that, then,” Colson says, as confidently as if his pounding heart isn’t choking him as he speaks. 

Em narrows his eyes at him. “I don’t get you. Why’re you tryin’ so hard?” 

For a horrifying, fraught second, Colson thinks he’s about to fucking cry. And then Em adds, “I’m old news. And my life is definitely boring, compared to yours. There ain’t much for you to gain.” 

“Besides the magic of your company, you mean?” 

Colson has no clue where his brain is pulling these bold quips from, considering it feels like a pile of formless sludge up there. 

Em actually laughs, then hides his mouth behind his palm, amusement shining through in his voice when he says, “Magic, huh?” 

Colson grins uncontrollably. “Hell yeah, dude. You teach me something new every time we talk; it’s fuckin’... incredible. And you’re so fucking funny? It’s crazy how many people don’t know that. But at the same time, I’m kinda happy about it, ‘cause, like, I feel like I wanna keep you all to myself sometimes.”

Oops. Too far. 

Em is making this expression that Colson can only describe as constipated, and he’s just about to open his mouth to frantically backpedal, when Em says, “You’re pretty funny yourself.” 

“Yeah?” Colson tries not to sound too starved for validation, he really does. 

“Yeah. You got jokes.” Em pauses, then adds, “You’re weirdly easy to talk to, you know that? One of these days, I’m gonna spill some deep dark secret to you without thinkin’ twice, and you’ll go to the tabloids with it after you dump my ass, and I’ll feel like the world’s biggest idiot.” 

“Oh,” Colson says dumbly, struggling to process everything Em just said.

Dump my ass. Odd choice of words, right? And also, what deep dark secret? 

“You really think I’m easy to talk to?” Colson finally registers the compliment in the midst of his internal hemming and hawing, and it makes his ears grow hot and his face prickle. 

“Too easy,” Em confirms. “I dunno where the time goes, when we’re together.” 

Together, Colson thinks, digging his fingernails into the skin of his own palms to tether himself to earth. It’s such a loaded word.

He’s just being nice. Don’t read so much into it. 

“I feel that too,” Colson says breathlessly, “I never wanna leave.” 

Em changes the subject so deftly that it takes Colson like a full minute to catch up, but there’s so much going on in his head that he would have been totally lost regardless. 

Faith  miniseries (part 1)

**T. W.!!: self harm, suicidal thoughts, self doubt, sad reader.

*this is my first xreader ever so i hope it aint sloppy. 💋

There were very few things that scared the Winchesters but tonight their fear was palpable. Most of the time they were passive and observant. Even Dean didn't want to open that can of worms. Ever since that hunt a few weeks ago, the one no one talked about on the 2 day drive home, something with you has been wrong. Like you got your wires crossed and you haven't been the same since. It has been gradual, like watching someone sinking in quicksand or dying of cancer.  

You weren't stupid, you could tell that they have been distantly observing you as if you had a ticking time bomb strapped to your torso at all times. You noticed the change of mood in the kitchen when you'd finally gotten yourself out of bed to grab a cup of coffee. It's like your presence sucked the life out of a room, much like a Dementor from Harry Potter. You didn't know which hurt more, the deafening silence, the obvious coaxed smiles from Sam, or the steady stares from Dean when your back was turned. Sometimes when you were awake enough, you heard the brothers arguing about something, you'd tricked yourself to overhear certain words in their heated arguments, and convinced yourself they hadn't been arguing about you. But they clearly were.  

Cas, the usual flat faced stoic of the Bunker had twinges of concern in his oceanic orbs. Were you that messed up? That a fuckin' angel was concerned about you? What the hell happened? It started with that hunt. That much you know, right? Maybe it started before that? When it did sink in, you started to spend much more time cooped up in your room. You liked the softness of your bed and the warmth of your bed-covers. Suddenly you didn't want to go...anywhere. You spent your days sleeping and struggling to keep your eyes open enough to hear what Sam had conjured up about a potential case. The nights, those were the worst though. In the night you couldn't get to sleep if you tried. And that was when you felt most alone. You hated being awake, if you were awake you were thinking. And thinking means remembering just how much of a screw up you knew you were.

Team Free Will just came back from a hunt which you had to pull teeth just to get to stay in the confines of the Bunker. It had been a few days. You don't remember the last time you ate. Was it when you ate the second to last slice of apple pie in the middle of the night when your insomnia was at its peak? Or was that this evening when you woke up to a grumbling stomach that you couldn't ignore, so you quelled it with warm chicken broth. You didn't feel deserving enough to eat solid food today. Your lips were cracked and severely chapped even though you knew you kept your lip balm in the bedside table, within reach. Your long hair is disheveled in its bun and you can't stop sneezing because you forgot to take your medicine today, again. What a failure. You can't take care of yourself. It would be so much better if you could just lay down in your bed and sleep. Sleep and dream, forever.  

Face it, the Winchesters are so much better without you. Dean doesn't need you burdening him. He would only have to carry your dead weight around on cases. You can't even muster up the courage to walk up to houses and round up info on the local legends, doing door-to-door sweeps. What in all Hell makes you think Dean could be attracted to someone, some frail little girl trapped in the past? You weren't his type anyhow, a plus-sized book worm didn't turn him on. How could it? You saw his porno-mags. Those girls were, perfection. Miles away from what you were. They were tall, sculpted shades of golden skin. They were the definition of success, confidence, beauty. Qualities you'd convinced yourself you weren't. You saw their type in multiple bartenders that you painfully watched Dean flirt with. From your table at the bar, it stung to see Dean's pearly whites brighten in the lights of the illuminated bar. His expression full of child-like glee, effortless and innocent. Sam was next to you for protection, his face buried in his tablet searching diligently through lore and articles of missing peoples.  

You shuffle your feet audibly into the kitchen. Even though you don't feel like eating, you need to eat at least a sandwich in Dean's presence. The brothers were sipping beer at the table in the kitchen while you fixed yourself a wimpy pb & j. Sitting down at the very edge of the metal table you stared for a long moment at your sandwich. I hate this, it's making me sick to even look at food, you think to yourself. You take a bite and chew slowly, wanting so hard to spit it out. You're too fat already. Why do you eat in the first place? Those thoughts stew in your head as you notice the Winchester brothers are staring at you. You notice someone is talking to you but it doesn't register. You swallow the bite unwillingly, closing your eyes like you had just done something terrible.  

"Y/N? Earth to Y/N?" You recognize the husk in the voice to be Dean's. You flinch and look at him, wishing immediately you hadn't stared into those perfect green orbs. The expression on his face let you know that he knew there was definitely something wrong with you. God you're such a freak. You drag your tongue on your left canine, the one that has always been particularly sharp. Feeling a cold sweat begin to drip down your neck, you start to panic. You drop your sandwich on its plate and rise from your seat. You need the sanctuary of your messy bedroom, the softness of the mattress. You need the coolness of the sheets. Your small feet tap the tile of the floor beneath you but you notice sound behind you that will your body to go faster. They were following after you.  

You'd never been more afraid that they'd find out what was in your head. That Dean would find out how you felt about him and about yourself. That can't be an option. You knew what would be next, what was inevitable. The dreaded talk. You finally reach the knob of your bedroom door, your palm slipping as you fumble with it from sweating. Just as they are about to reach you, you open the door and slam it shut behind you, locking it. You heart is racing against your chest. Locking the door isn't enough. So you barricade the door with your dresser. As you do so, you feel yourself breaking and hot tears flow down your face soaking into your hoodie.  

"Y/N?! C'mon, open the door." Sam says.

"Whatever it is we can talk about it. Y/N. Please?" Dean's tone is almost unlike him. You'd only ever heard him use this kind of tone with children who were in the midst of trauma from an awry hunt. Is that what he thought of you as? A wounded child in need of coddling? Or maybe even worse, a wounded animal.

You don't answer and there is a long pause. You need relief and release in the only way you know how. You rummage through your bedside table drawer and find a thin hunting knife, the one Dean gave you a few years ago. Your first gift from him. You pull down the fleece-like fabric of your sweatpants to reveal scars, left over from self-inflicted pain, years gone by. They were raised and pink lines. They wouldn't understand. You hear thudding from the other side of your door, that can only mean the brothers are getting more desperate, using their bodyweight to try and get inside.  

"Y/N!!" Dean yells for you in between the thudding.  

"GO AWAY!" You yell as you drag the sharpness across your skin. Red bubbles up from the cut and for a few seconds you feel relief. But it doesn't stop the pain. You cry more, sobbing uncontrollably. The salty tears blurring your vision until they spill over staining your cheeks. You need more, so you add more cuts, one by one. Oddly you chuckled at your macabre artwork, thinking you just made your thigh look like a piece of lined paper. You start your work on the opposite thigh, digging in a little deeper with each line.  

You hear someone suck in a breath sharply. Someone was in the room with you. During your release, you never noticed the dresser move or the door opening. Looking up from your bloodied thighs you see Dean staring back at you. His blade still in your hand, red dripping down your skin and slipping into the pure white sheets.  

"Y/N? Hey, that's okay. Put the knife down, alright?" He said to you smiling at you flashing his bright white impeccable teeth, Sam in the background of your bedroom doorway with his hand clasped over his mouth in a blank stare. More tears sear themselves into your eyes and flood over. Your lips are quivering. You drop your knife released from your trembling hand, it thunks itself into the wooden floor below. You don't dare look back at Dean. You curl yourself up as best as possible granted the size of your stomach won't let you pull your knees to your chest.

You collapse onto your bed facing your pillows, you sob into them and hold one tight to your face in a feeble attempt to hide yourself. You feel Dean sit next to you on the bed, and he begins to stroke your back in soothing motions. His effortless acts of kindness make you break more. You feel the onset of a nasty headache forming, from the intensity of your sobbing. You can barely make out Dean telling Sam to bring a first aid kit and water. Dean shushes you and continues to stroke your back and your arm.

"You don't have to tell me anything. Just take deep breaths, 'kay? Here, I'll do it too." He breathes deep in and out, hard enough to be audible. Why was he so nice to me all of a sudden?? You begin to feel numb, and you weren't sure if this was from the emotional break down or the blood loss. Had you cut too deep this time? Sam returns with the first aid kit. You note its metal clink on the bedside table. You unbury your face from your pillow only to get a breath of fresh air. You don't look at Dean or Sam. You couldn't. Dean thanks his younger brother for the glass of water and the kit.  

"Can you give us a minute Sammy?" Dean asks.

"Sure. As long as you need." Sam confirms and you hear the heavy footed thuds of his boots exit your room. Dean does something that you don't expect. He lays down on his side, with you. Spooning up against your form. You mentally whack yourself in the head, he's getting his jeans all bloody, that you're sure of. He continues to stroke your arm softly. He hooks his chin into the nook of your shoulder.

"Whenever you're ready. I'm all ears." He tells you, the gentleness in his tone brings you to tears again. You weep silently. Was this really happening? You don't budge or say a word as sleep takes you over and you feel so amazingly content. You melt into the rhythmic breaths that Dean takes. The act soothes you into dreamland. For the first time in a while you think, I want to wake up to him next to me. And you swear you smile in your slumber.

End part 1.

*criticism is taken constructively.

*comments are golden.

Play with Fire

pairing: Kerry Eurodyne x Male!V , Johnny Silverhand x Female!V word count: 6333 (measly and weak but just u wait) summary: V has everything under control. He's not dying. He and Kerry are still going strong. He's now the King of the Afterlife. And Johnny Silverhand is alive and in his own body. He's not forgetting anything...or is he?  notes: Anyone ever want both a male and female V in game? Surprise motherfuckers! Post-Canon The Sun ending fix-it fic coming RIGHT UP! Enjoy two V’s!

Play with Fire — . . | 02 |

AOO Link

4307 hours, 258420 minutes and 15505200.1 seconds. 5.9 months. That’s how long it took to get Johnny back. Not just in V’s head, but actually back . Not only did V focus on getting his own body to stop slowly dying from the lack of Johnny’s biochip in his head, he also focused on how he would get Johnny back. The fucker grew on him...or in him, for better use of the terms. Johnny was a parasite that not only slowly killed V by means not of his own volition, but also slithered his way into V’s heart. Hell, the only reason V came back to his body instead of giving the thing to Johnny was because he gave control to Johnny at Arasaka Tower. V looked over at the man now...in the flesh and not just a fucked up construct in his head that only he could see and hear. Johnny was leaning on the railing to V’s penthouse apartment. The sun was slowly setting on Night City, and despite V being almost next door (or next skyscraper) to her old apartment, there was something so surreal about the scene. Johnny had an unlit cigarette in his mouth and was just leaning on the guardrail, looking at the city with a silent awe. His sunglasses were on top of his head and there was a sort of peace about it all. V blinked as a message came into view. V let out a soft sigh, turning back around and walking into the house.

V was going through his clients and fixers. After everything that happened at Arasaka, V was suddenly thrown back into his body. A living legend. Something V had wanted for a long time...and it felt strange. V was still learning how to live with being a legend. Taking over Afterlife and Rogue’s legacy was a lot more difficult than V had imagined. V hadn’t even imagined becoming a fixer himself...and now there he was. Every other fixer didn’t want Rogue’s position, and most of them now came to V for things. It was all just so...much more than what he expected. V kind of expected to die and become a legend, not live to tell the tale of his escapades. He was alive and now people whispered and tried to fuck him over far more often than he wanted to be fucked. V grumbled once more, throwing himself onto the couch. Kerry was on tour with the Us Cracks for another day and V desperately wanted to actually be fucked instead of having to deal with others who were trying to fuck him in a non-sexy way. “Bein’ a fixer a lot more difficult than you expect?” Johnny asked, pulling V’s attention to the door where Johnny leaned against. V let out a small grunt, looking back up at the ceiling. “I doubt Rogue ever took a fuckin’ break, but you aren’t Rogue. You can make new rules.” Johnny muttered, walking over and leaning over the couch, looking down at V. V looked up at him, suddenly mesmerized by how he actually cast a shadow...how he didn’t glitch when he talked. How he couldn’t just materialize his sunglasses and how stupid he looked with them on the top of his head. “Take a break before you burn yourself out. Didn’t go through all that trouble to clone a new body just to fuck it up by working too hard.” Johnny muttered. V stared at him for a moment longer and sighed. “There’s still a lot of shit I gotta deal with.” V grumbled, rubbing his eyes. “Ya know, I didn’t just get a fuckin’ manual of how to be a fixer and how to run shit smoothly.” V said, looking back up at Johnny. Johnny didn’t say anything, his mind obviously going back to what happened at Arasaka tower...the reason why V was a fixer now and not just a merc. Rogue was dead. Silence filled the air. V sat up and touched Johnny’s hand. Johnny didn’t say a word at the action. Didn’t move his hand either. It was weird being able to physically touch Johnny. Even weirder not to hear his stupid voice rattling around his head, but to actually hear it. Even without the fucker being in his head, he just knew shit with Johnny. That’s what happens when you share a brain and see into the other’s head and soul’s.The two had been through enough shit for a lifetime...and here they both were...living and alive. Clones of what they once were, but both alive. About 5 months into looking at ways for V not to just kick the bucket in the coming month, V decided to take up street fighting. The first place V fought was a little rooftop in Kabuki. There, he fought these two twins that were the same but different. They had split their personalities into two different bodies so that they were two different people but still 1 person. It made V feel hopeful. Sure, they were twins to begin with, but seeing how identical they looked, V got the idea of clones. V called up Hanako who didn’t answer, but V left a voicemail, explaining his reasoning for the call. Then he called Takemura who also didn’t answer. Arasaka fuckers were hard to track down, especially since what V was asking was a lot. V wanted a new body and he wanted Johnny’s engram back, Johnny on the chip...and then a clone of Johnny. It was a big request, especially wanting to bring a literal terrorist against Arasaka back to life...So, like a rational person, V broke back into Arasaka Tower, took Johnny’s engram back and booked it the fuck back to Vik’s. Then V had to go into Cyberspace to find the fucker, so he had to get some help from the Voodoo Boys to get back to the blackwall. Then he had to find him in Cyberspace and throw his ass back into an engram. Alt luckily let him leave willingly, even telling V to make sure when switching out his own engram into a clone to be quick, otherwise he would flatline. The next thing V had to do was find someone to copy Johnny’s DNA and then find out about clones. In less than 2 weeks...while trying to run the Afterlife...and dying. Kerry was a real lifesaver when it came to those 5+ months. Always helpful. Helping buy the best people to make identical clones of both V and Johnny. Fuck he missed the stupid rockstar. “Mind if I use that little Arasaka AV to get the fuck off this little penthouse oasis?” Johnny asked, pulling V from his own thoughts. “Got a hot date er somethin’?” V asked back with a smirk. Johnny returned the smirk. “Wouldn’t you like to know.” Johnny teased back. V let himself chuckle, waving his hand towards the front door. “All yours, Silverhand. There’s a key by the door...you know, so your old ass is able to get in it.” V snarked, standing up and grabbing a bottle of Centzon off the end table in front of him. Johnny didn’t have any modifications, minus his new cybernetic arm. His old one was a few decades outdated and despite V’s own cloned body being perfect, something in Johnny’s DNA left him without his left arm...Johnny didn’t seem to mind the new arm. Didn’t seem to mind the new body either. Apparently his cock was still impressive and that was all he really cared about. “Don’t go nukin’ any Arasaka towers.” V teased as Johnny started walking over to the front door. V looked over and saw his middle finger up in the air as he grabbed the key from the door. V sighed, hearing the doors slide shut behind Johnny and the AV starting up and flying off. V sat back on the couch and closed his eyes. +++

“Open the fucking door you fucking gonk!” Johnny shot up from his spot on the couch at the sudden pounding and screaming at the door. V got a new penthouse and lovingly gave Johnny his shithole of an apartment. Another louder pounding of the door followed as Johnny got up from the couch which he had fallen asleep on after eating far too much Chinese food. “I swear to fuckin’ GOD VINCENT FLOWERS!” The pounding of the door was somehow even louder as the woman’s voice continued to scream against it. Vincent Flowers ? Ooh V would not like to know some lady was saying his full name. Johnny was sure V only swung one way, but with the way this chick was banging on the door, it sounded like V had wronged her. Bad . Johnny opened the door mid-pounding, forcing the woman behind it to stumble forward into the apartment. “Take it easy, princess.” Johnny smirked as the woman let out a sharp huff, glaring up at him. She had red hair, a red and black trenchcoat. At least she matched. “What do I owe the pleasure of-” Johnny started before the woman kicked his feet out from under him, straddling his chest once on the ground and holding a gun against his forehead. He could have sworn he heard someone mutter something outside the door, but it slid shut before he could even process anything that was going on. “Vincent Flowers. Vince. V. Whatever the fuck he goes by. Where the fuck is he?” The woman snarled lowly back down at him. Johnny stared back up at her, his hands going up in defense as his breath came back from being knocked out of him. Still not used to that feeling either. “Who’s askin’?” The words came out far more growled than Johnny had meant. He had only had his body for about a week and now he was gonna lose it to some redheaded woman for being protective over V? Yeah that seemed about right. Kinda figured he’s flatline under a woman. “His sister .” The woman said through clenched teeth, glaring back down at him. Johnny’s brows furrowed as he stared up at her. V was around Johnny’s height, maybe a centimetre shorter than him, but this woman had to only be about 5’4”. Her hair looked long with how big her stupid space buns looked. V had dark black hair, while this woman had dark red hair. V didn’t have any tints of red in his hair. The only thing the two had in common were freckles across their nose, though this woman’s freckles were far darker than V’s and...her eyes. Their eyes. Purple. Johnny blinked. “I don’t remember you.” Johnny muttered aloud, more to himself than to the woman. Johnny had been in the prick’s fucking head for over a month, seeing his memories, feeling his feelings, and not once did he remember this little redheaded bitch in the fucker’s memories. Johnny stared at her for a moment longer before she punched him in the nose.  “ Fuck .” Johnny grumbled at the sudden pain. “ Tell me! ” The woman snapped pushing the gun now fully against his forehead. It felt warm. Like she had used it recently, but not so recent that it burned. “Where the fuck is V?” The woman said with a low growl, getting closer to Johnny’s face. “Where is my brother?” The woman asked, sounding a little less hostile at her own words. Johnny watched as her guard went down for a minute before slamming his head into hers. The woman let out a sharp hiss from the pain as Johnny took the opportunity to shove her off of him and quickly rush over to where he kept his gun. Gunfire filled the little apartment as Johnny dove over the couches and grabbed his own gun from the coffee table, staying low to keep from the gunfire. “Why are you lookin’ for him?” Johnny asked loudly, as the gunfire stopped for a moment. Johnny glimpsed over the couch before ducking and falling below where the couch ended and the step was to keep himself from being shot as she fired a few more shots. “I’m worried about the fucker.” The woman snapped back. “He went fucking dark about 8 months ago. Not a fucking word. Dropped off the face of the planet.” The woman explained. Johnny made sure his gun was loaded before quickly rushing over to the bed and jumping on it, to keep himself from being shot, firing a few warning shots back at the woman. “Is he alive?” The woman asked, her tone softening at the question. A moment of weakness. Johnny tossed a pillow towards the couch, watching it get blown to bits from gunfire, helping him figure out where she was by the way the fluff blew out of the pillow. Johnny’s ears perked up at the sound of clicking near the bathroom, knowing she had emptied her clip. Now or never. Johnny quickly rushed around the bed wall and the bathroom wall, grabbing onto the woman’s wrist, hitting the gun from her hand before flipping her over his shoulder and onto the ground, aiming his gun down at her now. The woman glared back up at him as Johnny kicked the gun towards the couches, away from this little hellfire. “He’s alive.” Johnny said, watching her glare subside for a moment as a wave of relief washed over her. “Good.” The woman sighed, staring back up at Johnny before reaching and pulling out another gun from just under her chest from a gun holster and aimed it back at him. Fuck. “Valley.” The woman said, staring back up at Johnny, expecting an introduction. Johnny found himself chuckling. “Johnny.” Johnny introduced himself. Maybe she really was V’s brother. Valley. Valley. This name didn’t sound familiar, but when he thought back of his time in V’s brain, he felt it was familiar. “V doesn’t live here anymore.” Johnny explained, keeping his gun trained on the woman. The woman let out an annoyed huff, setting her gun down to her side, staring up at the ceiling. “You know where he is?” The woman, Valley, asked, looking defeated as she lay on her back on the ground. Johnny slowly lowered his gun. “I just want to see how he is...not just hear it.” Valley muttered, looking back up at Johnny. “I’ve heard a lot of shit about him...It took me about a month to get to Night City and even outside of the fuckin’ city, I’d heard things about V...kinda why I didn’t just come and see what had happened when he went radio silent.” Valley muttered, more annoyed than anything. Johnny stared at her for a long moment before she sat up. “I only knew one number of his, and it was a client that got him into Night City...Jackie Welles. Do you know him?” Valley asked and Johnny felt his heart drop at the name. ‘Course he knew him. Knew that V never truly mourned. Felt the ache in his own damn chest from the grief. “Yeah…” Johnny muttered aloud, staring back at the woman. His heart clenched uncomfortably tight. Valley simply looked back up at him and nodded. “I mean, hell, I know it was about 2 years ago when V first left, but that was the only contact I had that could even potentially lead me to him…” Valley muttered, sitting up on her elbows. “Then he got kicked out of that stupid fuckin’ Arasaka job, so I couldn’t just ring them up askin’ for V.” Valley continued sitting up fully, leaning her arms against her knees. “Last thing I heard was he got this big gig with some big fixer. Thought it’d make him a legend.” V shrugged, looking back up at Johnny. “Then...nothin’.” Valley shook her head, looking confused by the silent act. “Don’t get me wrong, he would go off the map for a while, sure, but after about 2 months, a girl gets worried, ya know?” Valley asked as Johnny stood silent, watching as she explained herself. Johnny felt himself sigh, glancing back at the clock that sat on the ground beside the bed as it blared an obnoxious red reading 3 am. “Why don’t I take you to see him yourself?” Johnny asked, placing his gun on the bathroom sink. “If you really are his sister, then you have a lot to catch up on.” Johnny muttered, reaching out his cybernetic hand to help her up off his floor. Valley grabbed his hand, shoving her gun into her holster, looking at the arm for just a moment. “Where’s he live now?” Valley asked, walking over and grabbing her other gun off of the ground. Johnny, despite himself, watched her bend over. The more he looked at her, the less he could see them as biological brother and sister. For one, V had no ass at all, and despite the long and dramatic trench coat (that hugged this woman’s figure e xquisitely ) Johnny could tell this woman had an ass. And a nice rack on her. “And to think you were someone V would bone.” The woman muttered aloud, forcing Johnny to stop his gawking, only then noticing her staring back at him. “Sorry princess, but you did come banging on my door like an ex-lover at 3 in the fuckin’ mornin’.” Johnny snarked back with a smirk. The woman scoffed, walking past him towards the door, but Johnny caught the slight color change in her cheeks when she passed. Johnny chuckled lowly as he grabbed the key to V’s AV from from the desk beside the bathroom, shoving his gun into his holster. “Everythin’ alright in here?” Johnny heard as he popped his head around the corner, seeing that Valley had opened the door and a police officer was standing on the other side. “Got some complaints about gunshots and screamin’.” The officer muttered, looking around Valley into the apartment. Johnny walked up behind her and shook his head. “Nothing to concern yourself with, officer .” The words were spit out with venom as Johnny leaned against the door, nearly nudging Valley out of the way. “You know the area.” Johnny said with a shrug, glaring back at the man. Looked like the same cop that nearly got that ex-cop down the hall killed for not giving a shit. “We were just headed out.” Johnny stated sharply, grabbing hold of Valley’s arm and hitting his shoulder with the officer’s shoulder as he got out the door, pulling Valley along. The officer chuckled behind him as the door to V’s-er Johnny’s , he guessed, apartment slid shut and locked loudly. Johnny felt his blood boil from the sound. “Easier just to let people know you were bringin’ a joytoy back to get aggressive with. No need to be called out for a domestic with a cumslut.” The officer muttered aloud. Johnny stopped, just a moment after Valley did. Valley turned a lot quicker around than he did. “So if you knew that the noise complaints were involving a joytoy or doll, you’d ignore it?” Valley snapped quickly, her fists already in balls as she walked back up to the officer. The officer’s hand went to his hip and Johnny reached for his own gun at his hip. “Oh, I’m sorry, is being a slut a hard job?” The officer chuckled back down at her. “Is being a cum guzzling whore dangerous?” The officer asked, bending down with a smirk that Johnny suddenly grabbed hold of Valley’s arm and pulled her a step back. “Try being a cop.” The officer continued. “Not much of a difference.” Valley spit back. “Both get fucked by Corpos all the time. Only difference is that pigs don’t need to be paid extra to swallow.” Valley snapped. Johnny couldn’t help the snort that left his body as he watched the officer’s face drop. The small moment quickly died as the officer pulled his gun from his holster. Johnny quickly pulled Valley from the situation, vaguely hearing the police scream and curse as the two sprinted away from the scene, down the stairs, past the gym and into the elevator, quickly shutting the thing and going up to the roof. Even as they rode upwards, Johnny could hear the officer swearing and screaming. A few shots of gunfire followed. Johnny now laughed as he leaned against the side of the elevator. “Had my doubts ‘bout you bein’ V’s sister, but after that little show? No doubt.” Johnny chuckled, nodding back down to where they had been. Through the glass, Johnny could see the officer having a tantrum, now across the apartments to better see their elevator going up, looking for another way up to the roof. Johnny turned his attention back to the woman. She had her arms folded, obviously in her own head, glaring at the elevator doors. Johnny could have sworn he felt heat coming off of her. “V never mentioned he had a sister.” Johnny said, changing the subject, leaning against the elevator’s wall. Valley blinked, pulling herself back to where she was before looking over at him. “Should have just put a bullet to his head.” Valley muttered, looking past Johnny, out to the apartment buildings as they continued climbing higher. “Get rid of at least 1 corrupted fuckin’ cop.” Valley growled, her jaw clenching as she spoke. “Police station isn’t too far from here if you want to go burn the place to the ground.” Johnny shrugged, folding his own arms. Johnny watched as Valley’s glare slowly faded as she let out a small chuckle. “Know anyone with explosives?” Valley asked and Johnny nearly doubled over from laughter, but easily kept that in his chest, instead just chuckling. Maybe 50 years ago, but now, he was still new to being alive, let alone knowin’ where to get some more nukes. “Didn’t bring mine with me into the city. Hard enough as is to get into the fuckin’ place without havin’ explosives in the trunk.” Valley chuckled. Johnny stared at her for a moment before chuckling. The elevator doors opened. “I remember V had to smuggle in some kinda lizard into the City to get in.” Johnny chuckled, walking out the elevator doors. The sound of police sirens weren’t as loud the higher they were. Johnny suspected that one or two might be for the little commotion that Valley caused with the cop down in the apartments, but they wouldn’t even be in the same building when they got to the roof. Only way to get to the roof was by the elevator. Pretty shitty design, but Johnny didn’t give a shit. Place was meant to be torn down anyway, but enough people kept living there that they kept bringing in money into the Corpo’s pockets. Johnny pressed the key to the AV and the AV opened up. Valley followed behind, lookin at the AV and raising an eyebrow. “What? Don’t look like the kinda guy that owns an AV?” Johnny sassed as and got into the AV. “No, you don’t.” Valley stated as she hesitantly got into the AV. Johnny chuckled as she sat down beside him, flinching as the doors closed. “Please provide your destination.” The fancy British voice of the AV said. “V’s place.” Johnny stated, reaching over and grabbing two champagne flutes with clear liquid in them. Johnny knew V filled the fuckers up with vodka instead of the champagne that they were supposed to have in them. “Noted. En route.” The voice said again. “Here.” Johnny said, reaching to hand Valley the drink. Valley didn’t move her hand from the arms of her chair. Didn’t even look towards him. Her eyes were fixated on the floor. Johnny looked at her knuckles and saw them going white. “Don’t like flyin’?” Johnny asked with a chuckle in his voice. Valley shook her head. “Rather drive.” Valley muttered, shutting her eyes tightly as the AV got into the air. Johnny rolled his eyes, drinking the Centzon down. “Willin’ to stand up to a cop about joytoys than to fly in an AV?” Johnny snarked aloud. Valley glared over at him, snatching the drink from his hand before drinking it all before coughing violently. “Fuck!” Valley hissed, looking for a place to put the glass down. Johnny moved his own back to its original placement before grabbing the empty one from Valley’s hands. “Jesus!” Valley snapped, glaring over at the vodka flutes. “Couldn’t just be water er somethin’?” Valley snapped, more mad at the two other filled flutes than she was at him. Johnny chuckled, leaning back into his seat, spreading out as he usually did. “Can’t handle your liquor, princess?” Johnny asked with a smirk, reaching for his sunglasses and finding nothing. Johnny let out a small, displeased grunt at the fact that he couldn’t just materialize the fuckin’ things. Wasn’t expecting to leave the apartment till morning. Wasn’t expecting to be woken the fuck up by V’s long lost sister at 3 in the fuckin’ morning. “Initiating landing sequence.” The British voice announced. Valley looked both relieved and extremely stressed. Even if she was V’s sister, he could think of one way that she could relax. Johnny found himself adjusting his pants slightly. Fuck he needed a good lay. Shouldn’t be hard. Didn’t have any trouble back in the day... “We have arrived at your destination.” The AV announced. The door opened automatically and Valley quickly got out of the AV. Johnny rolled his eyes as he followed behind. Valley looked up at the penthouse building. “V lives here ?” Valley asked, gesturing towards the house. Johnny chuckled and nodded. “Oh, I’m going to fucking kill him.” Valley growled lowly, already grabbing one of her pistols. “Watch the guns, princess, there’s security drones around here.” Johnny chastised, catching up to her as she walked towards the front door. “Pretty sure if they nearly shoot my head off, they’ll take yours off without hesitation. ‘Specially with a gun in your hand.” Johnny muttered as he walked up to the front door. “Put the gun away.” Johnny snapped, nodding at her gun. Valley let out a sharp sigh before doing so. “Now. Stay here.” Johnny stated, taking the few steps up to the building, putting a code into the door. Valley rolled her eyes and folded her arms. “I’m not a fucking dog.” Valley hissed as Johnny entered the house. Johnny rolled his own eyes as he heard her following behind. Johnny hesitated for a moment as he heard noises in the house. Valley walked in beside him before Johnny grabbed her arm and forced her to stop. Valley glared back up at him before he tapped his ear, indicating her to listen. Valley stopped and listened, as Johnny slowly pulled his gun out. Valley followed suit with the action. Johnny and Valley slowly headed towards the gun stash. Fuck. Johnny wasn’t prepared. He was just in a tanktop and his leather pants. No bullet proof vest or nothing. Should’ve known he’d find himself in some shit sooner or later. Just expected it to be later and when he actually figured out what he was going to do in regards to money. May have tried out that rockstar life he sorta missed out on when Samurai broke up. After Alt died, he had kind of spiraled out of control...well, not ‘kind of’. He couldn’t remember much from 2013 to 2023. It all seemed like a blur of drugs and alcohol and deals that got him a nuke or two. It was a blur, and as much as V insisted that he needed to go to therapy for it, Johnny honestly felt at ease after coming back. New body and all kinda helped. Well he did feel at ease...did before he had a gun in his hand in V’s house. Johnny looked over at Valley and counted down from 3. Gave her a second or 2 to process, but that’s all she needed as she nodded back. Johnny counted silently aloud before hitting the door’s button that made it open. “Oh my God!” Valley screamed, quickly averting her eyes from the scene. Johnny let out a good laugh. The source of the noise? V fucking Kerry...or rather he had been for about a second before Johnny got to fully witness what V looked like while blowing his load. Had the pleasure of having an up close and personal experience when V and Kerry trashed and burned that shitty record guys’ yacht. “Johnny get the fuck out!” Kerry snapped as V quickly pulled out and looked mortified at the whole thing. Johnny laughed, leaning against the doorframe, much to both Kerry and V’s discomfort as the both grabbed something to hide themselves. Kerry going for a more modest plant while V grabbed a machine gun. “Forget that I’ve been in your head when you did this the first time?” Johnny asked V as he ushered Johnny out of his little armoury and shoved past him, rushing up the stairs. “You forget when we -” Johnny got out before Kerry punched him in the stomach, making him bite his tongue and fall to a knee from the force and cough. “T-Touchy subject?” Johnny coughed as Kerry quickly ran up the stairs after V. Johnny laughed with a hiss as he stood up, holding his stomach for a moment longer, trying to subside the pain by sure willpower. Didn’t miss that. Didn’t miss the raw pain of bein’ alive. When he was with V, he got a small snippet of emotions and feelings. None ever compared to the real thing. The only one that came close was whenever V thought about Jackie; gave him a call and left a voicemails whenever anything of importance happened. That was something that always hit Johnny with full force. Johnny walked back into the living room, noticing a slight breeze to his right. His eyes turned towards the source and saw Valley leaning up against the guard rail. Johnny walked out onto the terrace and leaned beside her, pulling a cigarette from his case in his pocket and putting it in his mouth. The lack of nicotine that V took in when Johnny was in his head really changed him. V really changed him. It was just a habit now. He didn’t light the thing. Just needed a little familiarity, but the taste didn’t do as much as it once did...even with a new and not-fucked-up clone body. “Was...was that Kerry Eurodyne?” Valley asked after a moment of silence. Johnny looked back over at her. Even in the neon lights, he could see that her face was flushed still. Johnny chuckled, feeling it go through his whole body. That was something he also wasn’t used to. Feeling so...so light . Sure, corpos were still shit, Arasaka was still around and doing shady shit and hell, the world was in a worse state than when he flatlined and got trapped in an Arasaka mind prison, but...he was alive . And Adam Smasher was dead...and so was Rogue. The lightness was quickly replaced with guilt. Johnny nodded his head, not letting guilt take over as he spoke. “And you’re some Johnny Silverhand impersonator, right?” Valley asked, leaning on one arm to turn and look at him. Johnny raised an eyebrow back at her. “You’re all in this poly relationship, but you forgot it was Kerry’s night with V.” Valley stated, looking serious as she spoke. “V and I really liked Samurai growing up so it makes a little sense that he’d fuck anyone in the band he could get his hands on.” Valley shrugged. Johnny stared back at her before laughing. “Disappointed you didn’t cash in on that option?” Johnny asked playfully. Valley raised an eyebrow back at him. “You know, Johnny was known as a player.” Johnny chuckled with a wink of his eye and a wiggle of his eyebrows. Valley snorted and shook her head. Johnny should have saved that for later. Her face was still a light pink from earlier and he couldn’t tell if she was even remotely affected by his words. “That your final guess on what he’s been up to?” Johnny asked, raising his eyebrow while leaning now to look at her. “That your brother ditched you to get kabobed by the leading men in Samurai?” Johnny asked playfully. Valley let out a snort through her nose before laughing. “Oh God ew!” Valley said through her laughter. “I don’t want to think about that !” Valley snapped through her laughter, punching Johnny in the arm before reeling back as she hit his metal arm. “Fuck!” Valley hissed, looking at her hand and then his arm. Johnny chuckled at the action, as she shook her hand and walked away from the rail. “Even went as far as choppin’ your arm off?” Valley asked, looking back up at Johnny. Johnny opened and closed his left hand, looking at the metal arm. “You could say I wasn’t made with one.” Johnny said, leaning backwards against the railing now. A cool breeze blew against his back, sending a shiver up his spine. Despite global warming and all the shit they were doing to keep the little piece of ice in Antarctica frozen still, it meant that summers were hot and winters were cold . Johnny couldn’t even imagine the weather after 50 years. It was in the middle of October, and that was the first cold breeze Johnny had felt. Didn’t help that Night City was beside the ocean. “Alright, what the fuck is so fuckin’ important that you need to show up here at nearly 4 in the fuckin’ mornin’?” V asked angrily as he walked out of his house and onto the terrace. Couldn’t really take him seriously as he was wearing a frilly little robe. Johnny didn’t say a word, only nodded towards Valley. Johnny watched as V turned and the anger in his face suddenly disappeared. Valley’s face was slow to respond. The two looked shocked to see the other. “V-Valley?” V asked hesitantly. Johnny watched as the anger V once had on his face was transferred to Valley’s. “What are you doi-” V got out before Valley walked up to him and punched him in the face. And then continued to punch him and tackle him to the ground and beat the shit out of him. “Hey hey hey! Knock it off!” Kerry snapped as he came running out in a similar skimpy little bathrobe that V was wearing, grabbing hold of Valley and trying to pull the girl off V. Valley was so caught up in beating the shit out of her brother that she didn’t even realize that she elbowed Kerry in the nose. Kerry let out a sharp hiss as blood came rushing out of his nose. “Little help Johnny.” Kerry snapped back at Johnny who had just stood and watched it all happen. Johnny rolled his eyes as he went and grabbed Valley and tore her off of V, his cigarette dropping in the process. Despite her desperate attempts to continue beating the shit out of V, Johnny pulled her off of him. “You promised me, Vincent!” Valley screamed as Johnny physically picked her up and held her from V as he lay on the ground. Valley kicked and screamed, trying to get Johnny to let her go, but luckily, the new cybernetic arm was helping keeping her restrained. “You promised, Vince, you promised me !” Valley continued to scream, but now Johnny had the unpleasant feeling of tears drip onto his arms. His cybernetic one was advanced, so he could feel the gentle droplets, but his non-cyber arm felt like they were heavier. Kerry was now kneeling beside V as he sat up. V’s nose was bleeding, he had a cut on his cheek and his head and would have a hell of a bruise under his eye. Johnny didn’t have to be in V’s body to know that hurt...but it wasn’t the physical hurt that V was worried about. He looked as if his heart was breaking and Johnny could almost feel the phantom feelings as if they were his own. Valley soon slowed down her kicking and screaming that it stopped all together. Johnny slowly put Valley onto the ground where she seemed to crumple up. A heart wrenching sob left her mouth as she sat on her knees, her hands on the ground to steady herself, but even they didn’t look sturdy. “Valerie, Valley, please, Val fuck , I’m-I’m so-I’m so sorry.” Johnny took a step back from the scene as he watched V crawl over to Valley, grabbing onto her hand tightly. That only made Valley sob even harder. V pulled Valley into his arms and let out his own sob. “Val I’m sorry, please, Valley, please I’m so fucking sorry.” V sobbed as the two held each other. Johnny walked around them and grabbed Kerry’s arm as he looked at the scene, confused and obviously distraught at it all. “Come on, Ker, let’s give them some privacy.” Johnny muttered as he pulled Kerry into the house with a little force. “What the fuck is going on?” Kerry asked, blood from his nose still running down his face. Johnny led him into the kitchen and turned on the faucet before grabbing a towel and running it under the cool water. “Johnny, who the fuck is that?” Kerry asked as Johnny handed him the wet towel as Kerry continued to stare out where they both knew V and Valley were. Johnny knew Kerry was concerned, but he also felt the hint of jealousy in his tone. “That’s his sister.” Johnny stated seriously. Shock and disbelief crossed Kerry’s face. Johnny only sighed, grabbing a fresh cigarette from his pocket and lighting it up.

My Pride Goeth Before His Fall

Stand up high in the prow Noble barque I steer Steady course for the haven Hew many foe-men

{More fallout from this, mind the tags, warning for eye trauma.}

“What will you do, Whirl of Polyhex, if your son’s retaliations become more... severe? How will you feel? What will you say?”

Whirl swallowed the lump in his throat, feeling his better eye brimming with tears that dripped over the lid- dewdrops that tangled in his arctic lashes.

“I’ll tell my young’n I’m proud. I’ll tell my baby bluebird I’m so, so proud...”

The words spat in the face of victims will always be cruelest- they will always be demanding and vindictive, ordering them to be Bigger and Better than the Poor Lost Souls who Hurt Them But Not Really That Much.

It will always be wrong. But still, it will continue.

This was no different.

Quickdraw breathed deep and slow, eyes no longer able to blink doe-long lashes over flickers of summer sunshine; sunshine snuffed out by someone who’s life had been so dominated by old and outcast ideals that they took Judgement on someone they deemed unworthy solely by their birth. Their existence. 

Their family.

He answered questions with a voice level and cold and calculating to a fault- a voice that felt near robotic, digressing his pain and fear and suffering and choking down the feeling of being a spectacle...

They asked him to prove his cybernetic eyes were real, he did not cry as he held his eyelids wide and slid one free- as it was taken by a lawyer as a man in gold watched in burning horror.

He did not look at the cameras all around the courtroom. He did not look at his selected peer with his destroyed hand and rage-twisted scowl. He did not feed the vindication of his audience, he did not drink down their shame as he outlined the pain and cruelty he had lived so long through.

“I retaliated as any scared little brother would.”, he said quietly, “My sister had been shot, had been beaten. They were hurting my big sister like they wanted to hurt me for so long. I had to make it stop, in that moment. In that exact second, all I wanted was for them to stop. To let me help her. To let me try to keep my big sister with us.”

“And then?”

“And then, when my sister recovered, they wanted to hurt my little sisters. My little sisters who’d... never done anything to them. They held Chrona and sliced her cheek. They restrained Dani, and Kiki.”

“They sliced your sister’s cheek? So you knew the defendant had a knife?”

“Yes.”

“And still you aggravated them?”

“They gave me a choice, did he tell you that?”, asked Quickdraw, his circuitboard eyes drilling holes through the sleaze and grease coating the loaded question, “It was either they hurt my sisters... or me. I still remember what he said, exactly.”

“A-ah. And can you say for those present...?”

“You want us to let her GO? Alright, then we wanna make a deal. You won’t let us erase the Conspawn? You want us to leave your bastard sisters alone? Then you gotta pay up Quickdraw.”, he recited, “ You pay the piper and the kiddies go home free.”

“Is that so- can you back that up with evidence?”

“Yes, the security footage that was shown yesterday also includes audio, and he can be heard clearly saying it.”

A patronizing stare before the lawyer chuckled to himself, “I find that hard to believe-”

“Then play it.”

Silence.

Quickdraw’s eyebrows tilted down- just a degree, just enough, “If it is so hard to believe, then play it. I insist sir.”

Quickdraw watched the color rise in his oppositions face before they spat demands, as the judge pursed their lips and nodded. As the footage rolled and Quickdraw refused to flinch at the sounds of gravel and rattling fences.

You want us to let her GO...

The lawyer’s face darkened in anger. He stomped to the mockingbird cage of the stand and slammed his hands onto the wood, staring between Quickdraw’s unnerving eyes.

“Tell me, sir. Is it fun to watch?”, he asked in a hiss, a glimpse of Whirl’s manic sneer visible, “Does it make you all warm and tingly, watching them rip my face open after threatening the only people I’ll ever care about?”

“Witness dismissed.”

The judge nodded as Quickdraw rose and stepped away- His growing hair tied in a braid and swaying slowly in time like the serpent trying to tempt a Messiah.

Whirl watched, pain in his face as his chest clenched like a fist closed around each lung and twisted. When his name was called, summoning him to the stand his son had already haunted, he walked like he was set for the gallows.

He sat uncomfortably, frame and soul and grief too large for the box the law settled him in in this sideshow trial.

He listened to his sins read aloud, the sneer curling so many faces except the ones that mattered. He hung his head, his own braid overlong like the anchorchain of old ships in legends forgotten by everyone except those who sang the old songs.

He knew this tactic. He knew they wanted him angry and loud and brash and cruel. He knew they wanted to use his mistakes as the ink to sign away his son’s soul.

He felt the fire that always burned in his chest cavity snuff out, tendrils of smoke leaking up and up and out through his mouth to curl into words laced in the mist of tears cried at midnight into a bottle he hid between the headboard and the wall before Brainstorm woke up.

“What will you do, Whirl of Polyhex, if your son’s retaliations become more... severe? How will you feel? What will you say?”, asked the lawyer, pondscum clinging to the words.

Whirl swallowed the lump in his throat, feeling his better eye brimming with tears that dripped over the lid- dewdrops that tangled in his arctic lashes.

“I’ll tell my young’n I’m proud. I’ll tell my baby bluebird I’m so, so proud...”

“Pride, in violence?”

“He’s... He’s been through hell, my poor li’l dino nugget.”, said Whirl, choking on his words and unable to blink away traitorous tears, “He’s seen... He’s seen too damn much. Too much I couldn’t save him from and my GOD did I try to save him...”

The lawyer faltered, seeing the liquid stardust running down both of Whirl’s cheeks now.

“He’s seen all his parents fall the hell apart- and thank God we had Frogyy, I mean. Mimi. She kept alla us goin’, kept my babies safe during that mutiny on the Lost Light.”

Those present shifted uncomfortably.

“And then we made it here- and it was s’posed to be safe, sir.”

The lawyer flinched, the judge leaned to the side to gently rest a hand on Whirl’s shoulder.

“Take a deep breath, Mister Whirl- I understand this is hard to talk of. Take your time.”

A shaking breath, “I was a fuckin’ Wrecker- cream o’the crop and all. I had killcounts and I had mission successes and I had downright MURDER under my belt and I... I helped make. I helped make Quickdraw. QD. My li’l bluebird- me ‘n my honeybee made that! And Quickdraw is...”

Whirl wiped his face with a metal hand, “Quickdraw is ev’rything I thought I fuckin’ lost, back when they took my hands... my eye.”

He looked to the lawyer, “And then someboys decided that my li’l bluebird’s wings had to be clipped. They took his eyes cause his big sister’s Papa was a Con once upon a time. Cause her daddy suffered and burned down and built back up and she used that strength to stand tall and help her siblings do that too.”

The lawyer’s face was mottled with anger and fear.

“And you’re gonna stand here, in front’f your God and your Country and your HONOR... And ask me what I’m gonna tell him when he grows into his talons and defends the nest? I’m gonna tell him I’m proud, sir. I’m gonna look at him and tell him I’m proud that he stayed soft an’ loving in all the ways I couldn’t. And I’m gonna tell him I’m proud that he knows when to fly away and call the flock and I’m proud he knows when to stand and flare his claws and fight back.”

“Don’t you-”

“Counsel, I think that is quite enough.”, said the judge flatly, “So far, the past three days have been nothing but you desperately trying to say that a boy, when faced with violence, was wrong in defending himself and you should be ASHAMED of your behavior in this court!”

The silence was heavy and thick.

“You have proven nothing except, time and time again, that the attack on this family was mindless vigilante cruelty! There is no justification for these actions and all present know it. This... constant tearing of stitches is now over, Counsel, and the jury will now be dismissed to decide the outcome.”

The slam of a gavel, the rustle of people rising to their feet.

Whirl’s head hung down, words and images swimming round and round like dying minnows in polluted lakes before someone reached in to hold his steel hands tight.

He raised his head, expecting Brainstorm or Perceptor or even Ratchet or Cyclonus.

Xaaron looked down at him, tattoos on his chin warping from the way his lips trembled.

“I... I am sorry, Whirl.”, he whispered, “I am sorry for my assumptions- about you, about the family, about everyone. I... I simply did not understand. I did not try.”

Whirl blinked, slowly.

“I can see, now, that my... my grandson, your. Your bluebird. Is a survivor. As his parents are, as. As I once was. I spent so long in misery that I forgot that it loves company- but often mistakes it for competition. You have born much, and you have fought to never let it touch him, and something in you has broken from this.”

“I tried to keep my fam’ly safe, Mister Xaaron. And I fucked it up.”

“No. No you did not. You did all that you could, with all that you had- when those who could have helped turned their back upon you.”

Whirl rose from his seat, his prosthetic hand and Xaaron’s clenched together in some kind of unity, of steadying.

He stepped down from the stand for Xaaron to stand in front of him, and bow his own head.

“I am sorry for letting my own foolishness compound this family’s grief, and pain. But I want, more than anything, to make amends.”

Whirl swallowed, another lump in his throat made of baby’s breath and grave lilies as he felt Brainstorm seem to appear at his side.

“Then come visit.”, said the scientist quietly, “Come visit, get to know them, us. Without all... this interrogation. Come learn who Quickdraw is, aside from our names and the kid’s pain. Please.”

Xaaron’s head rose, and he nodded, “I will. Once the verdict is delivered, when you all go home I.. I will come and. And visit.”

Mimi stood by Quickdraw, watching the trio converse. Mimi’s arm went around her taller but younger brother’s birdcage ribs, and she hugged him gently.

“It’s gonna be alright, pigeon.”

“Why d’you always call me pigeon?”, he huffed.

“Cause you’re actually a dove, Quickdraw, you just don’t recognize it yet.”

Family Found, Family Taken

(AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32892439)

Masterlist, Next Part

Summary: Gavin is tired, so tired. He is tired of being the bad guy, but thats just who he is he's mean and unapproachable. He can't be replaced, he just can't, work is all he has left to tie him to this world. It is the only thing that proves he's not as terrible as he feels.

But when the fancy RK900 unit walks in, along with a terrible string of murders, Gavin is pushed backwards. He can't on this way anymore, but he doesn't think he is capable of change.

This is his last chance, he is Gavin's last chance.

Warnings: cursing

Chapter 1:

Gavin Reed is a mess. A walking tragedy. Rough on every edge and totally banged up. From the scar on his nose to the little marks on his knuckles.

If the scruffy appearance and constant 5 o’clock shadow doesn’t make it obvious then the darker than night eyebags and shitty attitude certainly does.

He looks rough, but he's not a bad guy, at least not internally. He's a man who feels too much and is easily hurt, but he would rather die than ask for help or express himself. The man has more baggage than an airport.

He’s bitter and cold, almost aloof in demeanor. A rabid dog with a muzzle on at all times, marked “dangerous don’t pet” only by fault of trusting too much.

A stray, left wondering all by his lonely self fulfilling prophecy of isolation.

A grade “A” mess.

He drags his sorry ass to the Detroit Police Station everyday and works himself to the bone because that's all he knows. It’s all he is able to do in order to tune out all the thoughts that he knows will drown him.

Not a team player in the slightest, but he's certainly one of the best detectives the DPD has seen in a long time. Stupidly efficient, his brain makes connections in ways that are unparalleled by his human peers. Too bad no one in the building likes him enough to let him know it.

Another consequence of his own actions, he is an asshole and he knows it. The only person he can call a friend is Tina Chen, but even then he feels as though she could do better. They all can. He is mean and cuts people off, unapproachable and snappy. Truthfully he’s surprised she's still around.

If it wasn’t for Fowler's firm hand he’d practically live in the building, it's not like he takes breaks anyway, but alas he has a shitty apartment with two demon babies to get back to anyway.

Bright and early on a Monday morning the man, the myth, the legend himself walks his groggy ass through the doors of the DPD. The caffeine withdrawal headache already encroaches on his brain and he sports a fresh set of bandages over his abused knuckles.

He keeps his head low and heads straight for the breakroom, aiming to get a cup of the worst coffee Detroit can offer. His reputation around the office has always been less than great, but ever since the android revolution his peers have been walking on eggshells around him.

He doesn’t blame them, it's not like he tried to hide his anti-android sentiment. He huffs quietly to himself, why would he care what those assholes think about him.

He prepares his shitty coffee and walks over to his shitty desk in the shitty bullpen. He’s dramatic like that. He doesn’t bother the anticipatory itch he feels deep in his chest that eggs him on to dive straight back into work. Like a craving, a workaholic.

Days are long and hard now that there has been mass losses in employment and crime skyrocketed. Reed just has to solve it all himself. Masochist.

He sits at his desk reviewing the last notes he took at the scene of his most recent case. Double homicide, suspected breaking and entering, but nothing was stolen.

He hears loud belly laughter come from the entrance of the bullpen, in comes Hank Anderson and his sidekick Conner.

Reed glances at the clock and snorts a bit.

Won’t you look at that, Hank Anderson is early for the first time in about a thousand years.

He shakes his head, and goes back to his notes. Normally he would throw out a rude remark or two, but he simply doesn’t have the energy today so he settles for an eye roll.

He is drop dead tired. Insomnia is a bitch and he hardly has an appetite anymore.

“Good morning Detective” Conner calls in a stupidly cheery tone.

“Fuck off” Gavin mutters back, his words lacking their usual bite. He just sounds defeated, deflated.

Conner hovers for a second longer in front of Gavin's desk. A second longer than usual, too long for Gavin’s liking. He moves his head up to call Conner out, but is met with nothing but air.

Whatever.

Gavin goes back to work, shuffling lightly under his desk. He is focused on nothing. Staring blankly at his own words in front of him, unable to comprehend what he is looking at. His mind is somewhere else, caught between nowhere and here.

He looks away quickly and puts his head in his hands.

Breathe in and out. Just focus, you idiot. Focus.

He rubs his eyes harder as the frustration moves like tides within his chest.

This is an improvement from Gavin Reed, if it were a few months ago he would've just slammed his hands on his desk and stalked off to go smoke. Not that anyone cares enough to know it of course.

He breathes in deep again and sets his mind to try one more time before he swears he’ll scream or something,

“Reed! My office now!” A deep yell calls out, breaking his second of peace. Fowler, of course.

He audibly groans. He hasn’t done anything wrong so why the hell would the captain want to see him.

“Ohhh, someones in trouble~” Tina Chen calls out, she’s barely walking into the area. She’s late, again Starbucks in her hand.

Not surprised.

“Bitch” he retorts, making his way toward Fowler's office. Tina laughs lightly and blows him a mocking kiss. Gavin just rolls his eyes.

Conner and Hank rise from their work stations to start after him.

Oh great, fan-fucking-tabulous. Reed huffs some more.

He opens Fowler's door with a hard swing, his patience slips away from him quickly.

The bad buddy cop flick duo follows behind him closely. Gavin elects to stay standing, way too anxious to sit and just accept whatever shit Fowler will be throwing at him.

Hank takes a seat, the other is already taken by Conner.

He does a double take, Conner is right next to him. Two Conners?

The not Conner turns a fraction.

“The fuck is this” Gavin questions and recieves a scathing look from Fowler.

Conner shuffles quietly next to him, the movement capturing his eye as it always does. Why does he look anxious, the fuck is wrong with him.

“Reed shut up and let me speak before you go butting in, '' Fowler dictates before continuing on, “this is RK900 and he will be assigned as your new partner.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? I don’t do partners, you know this Fowler. What makes you think I need one, much less that tin can.” Reed is quick to anger, well at least he has some energy now.

Has he not been efficient enough on his own? Fowler can’t just give him some pity babysitter to fix him up like Conner did with Hank.

“You do what I tell you to do, Reed. He is top of the line and you, annoyingly enough, have the best solve rates as of now. So he goes to you.” Fowler is strong with his statements and doesn’t leave room for arguing. Which doesn’t stop Gavin.

“What the fuck! That should mean that I don't need the help of that asshole! Dump him on someone else, it doesn’t make any sense!”

“Well you better make it make sense or else you can hand your badge over, Detective.” Gavin clenches his jaw, his eyes lit with anger.

“You don’t get any special privileges Reed, especially with your disciplinary file.”

Gavin huffs again shaking his head. “Well that doesn’t explain why these two are here” he gestures to Hank and Conner wildly with his hands. He treads more lightly with his words, he’s an idiot and a dick, but he will not lose his job over something as stupid as this.

“I asked them here in case you reacted poorly to this decision, much like you did” Fowler draws.

Yeah, yeah he's disappointed, when is he not.

“Yeah, quite the show you put on there, Reed” Hank mocks.

Go back to playing house, Hank.

Reed fumes, grinding his teeth. He could be so much meaner, but he holds back. All the energy that the anger gave him rapidly left his body and he’s left with tired resentment. A cold emptiness that leaves him chilly and lacking the will to continue fighting back.

“Are we done here?” He asks in a low tone, running a hand through his already messy hair.

“Well yes-”

It doesn’t matter what came after that, Reed saw the green light to leave.

“He‘s not well, Lieutenant”

“Conner it’s…”

He walks faster, escaping the muffled voices.

He sits back at his desk and grabs for his coffee. Empty already, great. He goes to make another cup, desperately wanting to get his mind off of the shitstorm that just happened.

Every other partner Reed has ever had did not last, they just couldn’t tolerate his shitty attitude. Essentially he ran them all off, like nannys to a terrible toddler.

This one will be no different, android or not, no one can put up with him for long. At least that's how Reed reassures himself.

Before he knows it he’s back at his desk, hot coffee in his hand and an absurdly tall knock off Conner in his way.

“The fuck out of the way, tin can” Gavin grumbles not even looking up to meet RK900’s eyes.

He doesn’t move.

“Did you not fucking hear me? Are you deaf, asshole?”

He moves a fraction, and Gavin takes it with a slight shoulder check to get to his seat.

Stupid not-Conner and his ugly fucking white jacket. Was gray not terrible enough?

Another small huff to himself. He’s been doing that more and more today.

He goes back to his notes. 5 minutes has passed and not-Conner continues to stand unmoving in front of Gavin’s desk.

He tries to ignore it, but he can’t stand seeing the stark white shadow in his peripheral vision. Looming like a cage starting to close in.

“Can you not just fuckin stand there like a freak?” Gavin snaps, finally looking the RK unit in the face.

Maybe he isn’t like Connor. RK is sharp and cold with defined cheekbones and pale blue eyes. Connor is warm in demeanor and soft where RK seems impenetrable and well…  intimidating.

“I am assuming that that empty desk is mine to use?”

Even his voice is different, this one is firm and lower in pitch compared to Connor’s.

Reed lags behind a beat, taking in all the information he can from what's before him. RKs suit is clean and pressed, untouched by the qualms of living. He looks shiny and brand new, but the disdain in his eyes says otherwise.

His posture is stiff and the collar on his neck more so, making RK look down with his eyes and a miniature head tilt. It makes him look condescending, physically and metaphorically looking down on him.

Gavin curls his lip, dislike drags within him. “If it gets you to fuck off than yeah, knock yourself out, tincan.”

An hour or two, or three, passes. Gavin manages to transfer his written reports onto his terminal. Using the work to blissfully tune out the presence to his right. RK900 staring blankly at the terminal with a flashing yellow light circling at his temple.

Gavin has so many questions swirling around his head, but has too big of a pride to ask them. Asking would mean being civil and he is NOT going to do that. Instead he’s elected to just simply pretend that his brand new partner doesn’t exist at all. That's all he can manage with the lack of energy he has at the moment.

Besides, it's not like his fancy new plastic counterpart is aching to talk to him anyway. He just sits there with his perfect posture in perfect silence. For once Gavin is thankful for his ability to just fall into his work, because it provides the perfect distraction.

(stay tuned for the next chapter!)

Captive Love   2

UF!Sans x Reader (or Frisk if you wanna)

Summary: Development of the bros’ relationship, character, and stuff.

A/N: I cut this chapter where I did because the next one is pretty long, and I had to cut it again anyway. So figured I’d stick this shorter chapter out today while I’m at a place that has internet. My home internet has been out for two days, so the next one might take a bit while I fight with it/ them.

Masterlist      Series Masterlist

Story

Cute when you sleep.

Sans brushed his sweetheart’s hair out of her face, running his thumb down her cheek and over her bottom lip, analyzing her face from where his head was perched on top of his other fist.

“stars, doll, y’re so warm, an’ yer cheeks’re flushed- an’ not in a fun way…” His concern was evident in his voice; he, like most other monsters, didn’t know much about humans, just what he’d heard from the legends passed down through the years.

His thumb stalled in it’s movement and his mouth turned up subconsciously in a smile. “hey, dollface,” he whispered, feeling his soul beat a little faster as her pretty eyes met his.

She let out a half huff half sigh, not answering, still too out of it.

“i gotcha, sweetheart,” he whispered, levitating the now ever present glass of water to him and tipped it, helping her get it down her throat until she turned her head away.

“fuck… hope y’re ok… wish i knew more ta help ya than just feedin’ ya water…”

He’d been feeding her the water all day, even skipping his rounds, though he knew his brother would be pissed at him. She didn’t seem any better than when he’d gotten her home, but maybe it was still just taking time…

He hoped, anyway. But he was still afraid to leave and not be there when she woke up for real.

She didn’t seem awake enough to recognize reality in these short interludes when she managed to get her eyes open.

Sans took the glass from her lips as she stopped drinking and put it back on the nightstand, his thumb going to stroke over her cheek again as she returned to unconsciousness.

.

“SANS, YOU PAIN IN MY ASS! WHERE ARE YOU?!” Papyrus called from the front room, making Sans let out a soft groan.

He carefully climbed from the bed so he didn’t make his sweetheart roll either direction too fast in his absence, going to the door and cracking it, poking his head out and calling back, “i’m in my fuckin’ room, th’ hell you want?” Papyrus started up the loft to his door and Sans felt nervousness build in his bones. “whadda ya want?” He asked more insistently.

“I WANT TO KNOW WHAT YOU ARE DOING IN HERE ALL THE TIME LATELY,” he answered, reaching the door and forcing it open, forcing it against Sans and knocking him back.

Sans rubbed a hand over his sternum and clavicle, grimacing at the stinging pain, and watched as his brother’s eye sockets moved over the messy room in distaste until they got to his bed.

For once since he’d grown up, shock filled Papyrus’ face, and he was at a complete loss for what to do.

“WH- WHAT-” He finally managed, drifting toward the bed. “WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?”

Sans felt frozen in place, not sure what to do, but feeling the anxiety rising in him.

“IS THAT A HUMAN- SANS!! WHY-” He lifted the blanket to get a better look at her, “WHY DO YOU HAVE A HUMAN-” he dropped the blanket, his long, thin fingers plucking her arm up to inspect it.

As soon as his brother touched her, a strong protective anger struck Sans and red began to haze around his left eye socket. “don’ you fuckin’ touch ‘er!” He yelled. He lifted his hand and swung it violently, throwing his brother back with his magic. “you stay th’ fuck away from 'er!”

Papyrus looked at his brother with a confused expression, the shock having returned.

Sans hadn’t used magic on him since they were small, when he’d been so frustrated from dealing with his “responsibility” and trying to protect him that even just the normal bothering that came normally from younger siblings pissed him off enough that it broke his tight hold on his temper and he’d needed to get him away from him and find an outlet.

“she’s mine!” Sans declared from where he’d stationed himself between his brother and the bed. “d-don’t you put yer filthy han’s on 'er- she’s mine - got it?!” He demanded.

Papyrus scowled, drawing himself to his full height, tugging on a glove to straighten it as he put on a superior expression. “WORRY NOT, SANS , I WASN’T GOING TO TRY ANYTHING WITH IT, I WAS MERELY GOING TO TELL YOU THAT THERE ARE NO PETS ALLOWED HERE.”

A flustered noise left Sans. “bu- shit- fuck! she can’t go- bro, look at 'er! she’s in no shape ta make it- she ain’t even been awake since yesta'day!”

“HOW LONG HAS SHE BEEN HERE?” Papyrus asked suspiciously.

“jus’ since yesta'day,” Sans answered, and the anxiety and desperation was audible in his voice.

Papyrus didn’t like to remember ever feeling anything remotely close to desperation, but he remembered being small, looking up at his brother after he’d finished his portion of dinner, still hungry. “here, take it,” he’d said crossly as he tossed his own meager portion to the smaller skeleton. “yer scrawny ass needs it more than me, anyway.”  

“WELL, IF YOU’RE GOING TO TRY TO KEEP A PET, THEN YOU’RE TAKING CARE OF IT- AND CLEANING UP AFTER IT! I’M NOT CLEANING ANY OF ITS MESSES!!”

“you don’t even gotta worry, boss- she’ll be fine, i got 'er.” With that, Sans crowded him out of the door and shut it, saying, “now, inna most respectful way possible, get th’ hell outta here.”

Papyrus rolled his bright pupils around his sockets, turning to go as something occurred to him.

“SANS,” he asked through the door. “YOU AREN’T-” he paused. He’d been about to ask if he was hurting her, only imagining so much about the situation of having a basically comatose woman in ones room that would make one so eager to get back to it, but it wasn’t really the pain part he was worried about, more the actual act. “DISHONORING YOURSELF, OUR NAME, AND ME IN THERE, ARE YOU?” He finally settled on.

“neveh,” came the assured and definite reply.

Papyrus gave a decisive nod as though finishing the conversation to himself, finished turning and walked away.

A/N: Next chapter… Reader might get Sans’ tongue in her mouth… Maybe… She wakes up, at least.

Introducing Ouija Board Demon the Depressed Juggalette

WHAT IS UUUUUUUP MOTHERFUCKERS! LOOK AT THIS FORMERLY PSUDEO DEAD BLOG. SUCKS ASS THAT THIS SHIT HAD TO BE THAT WAY BUT DON'T WORRY MUMMY IS HERE TO MAKE IT BETTER! Okay for realz tho, this shit sucks to say and know but I can't motherfuckin change shit tbh because this shit ain't really fully MY choice but who honestly gives a fuck? Well, hopefully you. So tha fuckin miraculous motherfucker who owned this blog, concept, and characters was TailsGothicAngel, but she had to fuckin dip because some punk ass, cocksuckin, pathetic little whores decided to abuse her till she finally fuckin broke and wouldn't let her fuckin move the fuck on by telling her why they fuckin liked kicking her around, and instead used it to fuckin spread lies and gossip to random Discord Servers where she couldn't even defend herself. It got to the point where some punk ass slut, who was the main aggressor decided it was funny to invalidate Tails' trauma and accuse her of doing, basically the same shit. I'd show screenshots and shit, but I ain't here to start shit, and It is already bad enough that this shit got Tails to the point she literally fuckin quit the internet, from deleting her tumblr, and twitter, but she also fuckin gave me control of her fuckin Ko-Fi, and Patron and had them connect to my bank and shit, and gave me her League of Legends account with a fuck ton of skins. So... yeah Tails ain't comin' back and I doubt she ever will. So yeah... ya'll have me now. She personally asked me to take control of all this shit and gave me everything. So sorry that this shit has to be this way, but there ain't nothin we can do. If ya wish to talk to me directly and not tha characters, jus put "Dear Miss Ouija," or just "Dear Ouija," and I'll fuckin respond ta ya. Also I'm gonna be rewriting tha stories and shit... and changing their designs and more, so.... ya. hope ya'll enjoy. To close this depressing shit off I'm gonna put in an excerpt from my personal favorite book, hopefully this excerpt will help ya'll cut people out who don't deserve your god damn time: Psychic vampires are individuals who drain others of their vital energy. This type of person can be found in all avenues of society. They fill no useful purpose in our lives, and are neither love objects nor true friends. Yet we feel responsible to the psychic vampire without knowing why.

If you think you may be the victim of such a person, there are a few simple rules which will help you form a decision. Is there a person you often call or visit, even though you really don't want to, because you know you will feel guilty if you don't? Or, do you find yourself constantly doing favors for one who doesn't come forward and ask, but hints? Often the psychic vampire will use reverse psychology, saying: "Oh, I couldn't ask you to do that" - and you, in turn, insist upon doing it. The psychic vampire never demands anything of you. That would be far too presumptuous. They simply let their wishes be known in subtle ways which will prevent them from being considered pests. They "wouldn't think of imposing" and are always content and willingly accept their lot, without the slightest complaint - outwardly!

Their sins are not of commission, but of omission. It's what they don't say, not what they do say, that makes you feel you must account to them. They are much too crafty to make overt demands upon you, because they know you would resent it, and would have a tangible and legitimate reason for denying them.

A large percentage of these people have special "attributes" which make their dependence upon you more feasible and much more effective. Many psychic vampires are invalids (or pretend to be) or are "mentally or emotionally disturbed." Others might feign ignorance or incompetence so you will, out of pity - or more often, exasperation - do things for them.

The traditional way to banish a demon or elemental is to recognize it for what it is, and exorcise it. Recognition of these modem- day demons and their methods is the only antidote for their devastating hold over you.

Most people accept these passively vicious individuals at face value only because their insidious maneuvers have never been pointed out to them. They merely accept these "poor souls" as being less fortunate than themselves, and feel they must help them however they can. It is this misdirected sense of responsibility (or unfounded sense of guilt) which nourishes well the "altruisms" upon which these parasites feast!

The psychic vampire is allowed to exist because he cleverly chooses conscientious, responsible people for his victims - people with great dedication to their "moral obligations."

In some cases we are vampirized by groups of people, as well as individuals. Every fund raising organization, be it a charitable foundation, community council, religious or fraternal association, etc., carefully selects a person who is adept at making others feel guilty for its chairman or coordinator. It is the job of this chairman to intimidate us into opening first our hearts, and then our wallets, to the recipient of their "good will" - never mentioning that, in many cases, their time is not unselfishly donated, but that they are drawing a fat salary for their "noble deeds." They are masters at playing upon the sympathy and consideration of responsible people. How often we see little children who have been sent forth by these self-righteous Fagins to painlessly extract donations from the kindly. Who can resist the innocent charm of a child?

There are, of course, people who are not happy unless they are giving, but many of us do not fit into this category. Unfortunately, we are often put upon to do things we do not genuinely feel should be required of us. A conscientious person finds it very difficult to decide between voluntary and imposed charity. He wants to do what is right and just, and finds it perplexing trying to decide exactly who he should help and what degree of aid should rightfully be expected of him.

Each person must decide for himself what his obligations are to his respective friends, family, and community. Before donating his time and money to those outside his immediate family and close circle of friends, he must decide what he can afford, without depriving those closest to him. When taking these things into consideration he must be certain to include himself among those who mean most to him. He must carefully evaluate the validity of the request and the personality or motives of the person asking it of him.

It is extremely difficult for a person to learn to say "no" when all his life he has said "yes."

But unless he wants to be constantly taken advantage of, he must learn to say "no" when circumstances justify doing so. If you allow them, psychic vampires will gradually infiltrate your everyday life until you have no privacy left - and your constant feeling of concern for them will deplete you of all ambition.

A psychic vampire will always select a person who is relatively content and satisfied with his life - a person who is happily married, pleased with his job, and generally well-adjusted to the world around him - to feed upon. The very fact that the psychic vampire chooses to victimize a happy person shows that he is lacking all the things his victim has; he will do everything he can to stir up trouble and disharmony between his victim and those people he holds dear. Therefore, be wary of anyone who seems to have no real friends and no apparent interest in life (except you). He will usually tell you he is very selective in his choice of friends, or doesn't make friends easily because of the high standards he sets for his companions. (To acquire and keep friends, one must be willing to give of himself - something of which the psychic vampire is incapable.) But he will hasten to add that you fulfill every requirement and are truly an outstanding exception among men - you are one of the very few worthy of his friendship.

Lest you confuse desperate love (which is a very selfish thing) with psychic vampirism, the vast difference between the two must be clarified. The only way to determine if you are being vampirized is to weigh what you give the person compared to what they give you in return. You may, at times, become annoyed with the obligations put upon you by a loved one, a close friend, or even an employer. But before you label them psychic vampires, you must ask yourself, "What am I getting in return?" If your spouse or lover insists that you call them frequently, but you also require them to account to you for their time spent away from you, you must realize this is a give and take situation. Or, if a friend is in the habit of calling upon you for help at inopportune moments, but you similarly depend upon them to give your immediate needs priority, you must regard it as a fair exchange. If your employer asks you to do a little more than is normally expected of you in your particular position, but will overlook occasional tardiness or will give you time off when you need it, you certainly have no cause for complaint and need not feel he is taking advantage of you.

You are, however, being vampirized if you are incessantly called upon or expected to do favors for someone who, when you need a favor, always happens to have other "pressing obligations."

Many psychic vampires will give you material things for the express purpose of making you feel you owe them something in return, thereby binding you to them. The difference between your giving, and theirs, is that your return payment must come in a non- material form. They want you to feel obligated to them, and would be very disappointed and even resentful if you attempted to repay them with material objects. In essence, you have "sold your soul" to them, and they'll constantly remind you of your duty to them, by not reminding you.

Being purely Satanic, the only way to deal with a psychic vampire is to "play dumb" and act as though they are genuinely altruistic and really expect nothing in return. Teach them a lesson by graciously taking what they give you, thanking them loudly enough for all to hear, and walking away! In this way you come out the victor. What can they say? And when you are inevitably expected to repay their "generosity," (this is the hard part!) you say "no" - but again, graciously! When they feel you falling from their clutches two things will happen. First, they will act "crushed," hoping your old feeling of duty and sympathy will return, and when (and if) it doesn't, they will show their true colors and will become angry and vindictive.

Once you have moved them to this point, you can play the role of the injured party. After all, you've done nothing wrong - you just happened to have had "pressing obligations" when they needed you, and since nothing was expected in return for their gifts, there should be no hard feelings.

Generally, the psychic vampire will realize his methods have been discovered and will not press the issue. He will not continue to waste his time with you, but will move on to his next unsuspecting victim.

There are times, however, when the psychic vampire will not release his hold so easily, and will do everything possible to torment you. They have plenty of time for this because, when once rejected, they will neglect all else (what little else they have, that is) to devote their every waking moment to planning the revenge to which they feel they are entitled. For this reason, it is best to avoid a relationship with this kind of person in the first place. Their "adulation" and dependence upon you may, at first, be very flattering, and their material gifts very attractive, but you will eventually find yourself paying for them many times over.

Don't waste your time with people who will ultimately destroy you, but concentrate instead on those who will appreciate your responsibility to them, and, likewise, feel responsible to you.

And if you are a psychic vampire - take heed! Beware of the Satanist - he is ready and willing to gleefully drive the proverbial stake through your heart! - The Satanic Bible by Anton LaVey Hail Satan!

A Study in Vampires

Title: A Study In Vampires

Author- tiddly-winx

Fandom: The Dirt

Summary: A sequel to my Vampire!Reader where she falls in love with Nikki and turns him into a vampire, based on @crue-sixx's vampire headcanons.  So the reader is taken away by a scientist to be studied to see if the vampire legends are true and if so, why.  Nikki is pissed.

Warnings: Swearing and violence.

When you woke up in a quarantined room with the bare minimum-a rock hard bed, a toilet in the corner and a table and chair set you were very confused.  You felt around for Nikki, but he wasn't there,  you took in your surroundings outside your room to see a laboratory setting, complete with monitors tracking your every move and people in lab coats processing your results.  "Where the fuck am I?!" you banged on the glass, but upon hitting the surface your skin started to burn.  You screamed and recoiled, the smell of your burning flesh surprised you.

A man with a full beard came forward and looked at you with astonishment.  You knew this man, many moons ago.  You were shocked to see him alive after at least 150 years.  You couldn't smell the decay of vampire on him, but he was Abraham Van Helsing all the same.  Yes, THAT Abraham Van Helsing from Bram Stokers Dracula some parts were embellished for dramatic effect, but the basics were true-there was a young lady who was entranced by a male vampire, who had somehow overcame her desires and granted him what he longed for-death.  You glared at him and asked "How are you still alive, Van Helsing?"

He chuckled and answered "I've discovered the Fountain of Youth, dear Y/N" he put his hand on the glass to offer a gesture of false kindness, but you didn't fall for the bait.

"You've coated the inside of this cell with holy water, didn't you?"

"Indeed" he conceded "I'm so glad to see that it worked!"

"How did you do it?  You're younger than I remember you being but I can smell that you're a plain human with a hint of embalming fluid" your fangs started coming out of your gums-you were hungry and knew this madman wasn't going to feed you.

"That's a story for a different time, dear" he pulled a lever and your cell started rotating on it's own.  You could see the ceiling open up and the sun shining brightly through.  Your rage then turned to fear as the sunlight was creeping ever closer to you.  You were only given a small corner where the light couldn't touch you and you needed to stay there or the sun would burn you.

"What's the matter?" Van Helsing laughed "Afraid of getting a tan?"

"Shut the Hell up!  Why're you doing this?!" you pressed yourself close to the corner, but not touching the glass.

"For science, of course" he grinned and pulled the lever to close the ceiling again "I want to see if the vampire legends are true and if they are then why are they so effective?"

"Whatever you did has rotted your brain!" you shouted "Once Nikki finds out, it's game over for you, asshole!"

"What can that little pup do?" he mocked you "he's not even fifty years in the blood!"

"My blood is among the strongest there is" you spat "he's stronger than most who've been vampires for centuries!"

"No need to lie to me, dear" he pressed a button and a mist began to form in your cell.  It stung as soon as the moisture hit your skin, and you realized it was more holy water.  So this is how he keeps the inside coated you thought to yourself.  If luck was on your side, you'd be able to send a telepathic message to Nikki for a rescue.  The trouble was that you didn't know your exact location, but he could follow your scent trail to find you.  But at the moment. you couldn't do anything-it wasn't searing pain like when holy water was thrown on you, but more like being exposed to a light corrosive chemical.  You had blisters over your skin and would heal and re-blister.  You just had to wait it out until it stopped.  You knew Van Helsing wouldn't let his new test subject die so quickly.

The mist stopped and you were left alone.  When you were sure that nobody was close to you, you sent a telepathic message to Nikki.  "Get up.  I've been kidnapped.  Don't know where I am.  Need help"

The message hit him like a bag of bricks, he was feeling around for Y/N when he felt nothing but old concrete.  You and him had taken to a crypt right before dawn to replenish your strength and cuddled in his arms.  How could he have not felt you being taken away from him?  He did feel a little groggy, like he used to when he was human and had a hangover.  That was a feeling he did NOT miss in the slightest.

"You alright?  What's going on?"he got up and sniffed the air for your scent.  Once he picked it up, he had to wait until dusk to do anything.

"I'm fine for now" you answered back "it's this old bastard that I met a century and a half ago, he's a mad scientist and he's experimenting on me to see if the vampire legends are true.  He's going to see how long it takes for me to die of starvation and along the way he's going to try to expose me to sunlight and holy water."

Nikki stiffened in rage, you having told him that most of the vampire legends were true, but ones like a vampire needing to be invited inside a building were false.  In his sleep, he'd stirred with a stinging sensation like thousands of bees were attacking him.  That must have been holy water "Just try to hold out for me, baby.  I'm coming to get you..."

"Please hurry"  your voice in his mind sounded desperate and feeble, something he'd never heard from you before.  It made his heart ache to know that you were suffering.  He would make that mother fucker pay for hurting you.

When dusk came he erupted out of the crypt and got on all fours sniffing the ground like a blood hound.  He had found your scent trail and followed it for a few hours, in what would take days if he were a human.  You two had taken to the crypt in New Orleans, and he followed the trail to L.A. where his old band still lived.

He crept up on the building that was well lit from the outside with fog lights.  He tried to barge right in, but he was stopped when the lights turned out to be solar UV lights that simulated the sun.  He recoiled and cursed-he would need human help, and he knew just where to go.

He approached Tommy's house and knocked on the door.  Despite the legend about not being able to come in uninvited being false, he didn't want to violate his best friend's privacy.  When the drummer came to the door, his face went ghost white and called to his wife "Hey Pam, I'm just gonna sit on the porch and have a smoke okay?"

"Yeah, whatever" the female said in a tired voice.

"It's been a long time Nikki..." he marveled at his friend's unchanged appearance while he was older and slightly worn. "About 20 years?"

"Yeah man" he tried to smile.  You and him had made social calls to his friends dozens of times over the years and it never ceased to amaze them how young and fit you both looked.  "I need your help..."

"What's up?" Tommy was on the alert now, neither of you having to ask any of your human friends for help until now.  He knew you must have been in dire straights, or you would have been with Nikki.

"Y/N's been taken by a mad scientist.  I followed her scent trail to a building deep in the mountains but they have it all covered with UV lights so a vampire can't get in or out..."

Tommy contemplated this and asked "How would I get IN though?"

"Leave that part to me" Nikki grinned, his fangs glittering in the lamp light.  "They were anticipating a vampire, not a whole bunch of his familiars" you had given him training on how to control animals to do his bidding, and he was now an expert at it-even better than you.

"Alright, so while the animals are creating a distraction, I go in and shut off the lights and security?" he asked.

"Bingo, T-Bone" he always loved calling Tommy T-Bone.  Tommy Lee was his ride or die friend to the end.

Tommy opened the door and called to his wife "Hey Pam, I'm gonna go out for a bit.  I'll be back later babe!"

There was a sigh from the kitchen as she said "Okay".  She had assumed that he was out cheating on her like he supposedly did with his wife Heather.

When they got to the facility, Nikki took a deep breath and let it out, a red mist flowing out of his mouth like cigarette smoke.  All the animals in the area inhaled and their eyes turned a blood red.  "Surround the building and kill the guards.  Make a lot of noise, draw them out and away from the doors..."

A whole herd of mountain lions, bears and wolves surrounded the area and approached the open grounds.  The fools didn't think that they needed a gate of any kind.  The guards were patrolling the perimeter when a pack of wolves pounced on one and began devouring him.  His screams alerted the other guards and they were attacked by the bears.  The remaining guards had radioed for back up before being mauled by the mountain lions. 

All the blood the familiars were drinking was going straight to Nikki, who only got stronger with each drop that was being taken.  One of the responding guard units had left a door open and Tommy knew that it was his cue to go in.  A wolf accompanied him on his journey to protect him, the thing tackling a guard and Tommy shouted "Where's the fuckin' control room?!"

The wolf had it jaws on the man's throat and he pointed to a door to the right of them.  Tommy turned to go and disable the systems while the wolf tore apart the man's neck.  He looked at all the complicated buttons and wires, him not knowing which ones controlled what.  So in classic Motley Crue fashion, he pulled the fire extinguisher from the wall and dosed the control panel with the foam.  Everything shorted out and the lights went off.

Nikki went in, stronger than he ever was and mowed down the guards that came in his path.  He was upon your cell when he saw you huddled in the bed under the thin cover to try and shield yourself from the holy water mist.  It wasn't working, and only served to spread the blistering over a wider area of your skin.  He punched a hole in the glass door and the entire frame came undone. 

"That was quick" you complimented from under the wet blanket.  You didn't want him to see you like this, and you felt him pick you up and take you out of the cell.  He ignored his own sizzling skin to take the blanket off of you and looked like he was about to cry, knowing you endured much pain while you were trapped here.

"Not quick enough, baby" he growled "You've been hurt so bad you need more than you normally take to heal..."

Then Van Helsing appeared behind you and said "You, sir are an excellent specimen!  I think I'll keep the both of you for observation!"

"Fuck you, dude" Nikki hissed, then the whole of the animal herd burst in and ripped the man to shreds, him screaming in pain all the while.

He carried you to a nearby cave, taking you deep inside so the light couldn't touch you.  "Drink, Y/N" he offered his neck to you "I have more than you need to heal..."

You bit down on him, he gasping as your fangs pierced his skin.  All the lives of the men that had died that night, including Van Helsing's flowed from Nikki to you and you knew how he was able to stay young for so many years.  He had figured out how to snatch bodies in his studies, and had his original body embalmed while he switched over the years until he was able to find a vampire to experiment on.  It was then that you remembered the very first thing your maker had taught you.  "Blood is lives".

"What?" Nikki asked, a little drained from you feeding off him.

"Blood is lives" you repeated "Every life a vampire takes, their blood tells their life story.  So in a way, their spirit lives on in us.  You had healed yourself and gotten your strength back, you cuddled with him and heard his heart slowly beating.

"So if we kill our friends and family, they will be with us for all time?" he raised an eyebrow, the blood from the bite in his neck drying and the holes closing up.

"Yes" you answered, knowing that Tommy was back with his wife in his house and currently fighting with her over something trivial. "But I don't think I'd like having Tommy, Vince and Mick all in my head telling me what to do"

"Hell no" he laughed and bought you in for a kiss.  After he broke it off, he said "If it came down to it and they were dying, I'd rather snap their necks and end their suffering..."

You nodded in solemn agreement, knowing that death was inevitable.  The least you could do was make it painless.  "We could remember them in our own way" neither of you knew what that way would be, but when it came to it, you'd know what it was.

I think I liked you better when you didn’t have a knife in your hand, Peaches... Chapter 195 - Big Bad Reputation

When Blake finds herself sold out to the Saviours by her abusive fiancé, she realises that she’s certainly not on her own anymore and finds an unlikely friend in Negan. And Negan does NOT like men who beat their girlfriends, one tiny bit….

Chapter 195 - Big bad reputation

[Negan confronts Charles. Will the man holding the gun be able to make any more threats?]

"...'Cause I'm Negan."

Just three words. That was all the dark-haired man had to utter for the sound of panicked whispers to surround them suddenly.

The man named Charles stared quickly around at his people who all seemed to be shifting on their feet, looking agitated.

For Blake knew that Negan was a notorious spectre even in these parts. Known to everyone for what had to be, hundreds of miles around.

Negan had a big bad reputation. Just his name alone uttered in hushed tones was a thing of grotesque legend, and everyone here had obviously heard what he was capable of.

But while Charles stared around wild eyed, Negan and Blake kept their eyes fixed on him...ready...waiting…

"Stop it!" he hissed out to the couple of men nearest to him. But it was no use. There even came a sudden cry from one of the women behind them as Charles stared her way, lips parted, watching in horror as the integrity of his group fell apart around him.

But he tried to keep his cool as best he could, merely turning back to Negan with a sneer, giving Negan's chest a hard shove with the barrel of his gun.

"Never heard of you," he said, grimacing. "And I really couldn't give a fuck who you are. You see, we're taking your van-"

He nodded towards Lucille, still in Negan's hand.

"-your weapons, and anything else you've got. Now either you hand it all over, or I'm gonna be putting a bullet through both your skulls'."

"Charles!" came a sudden pleading voice from behind them.

Blake glanced around to see a woman in her late fifties, with sand-coloured hair, step out of the surrounding circle of people.

"Please," she continued, her brown eyes full of despereation. "You dont know who this is-"

But Charles cut her off angrily.

"I don't give a fuck who this is, Martha!" he yelled suddenly. He was breathing hard now, his cheeks looking pink. "They either give us what they have, or we kill them. Fair and square. This was the plan."

But Martha wasn't looking at Charales anymore, instead she took a step forward, her eyes darting back and forth between Negan and Blake.

"Please," she said, entwining her fingers before her in a gesture of prayer, and shaking her head. "I am so sorry. If we'd have known who you were we'd have never-"

"Martha, what the fuck are you doing?-" Charles shouted again, sounding furious.

But again the woman ignored him, and this time another man, far younger, with red hair and glasses, nodded feverently, came to stand beside her.

"She's right," he said too, in a pleading voice. "We are so sorry. Truly. Charles...H-He doesn't speak for all of us, I swear. W-We were just desperate. We thought up this stupid plan, and-"

"ENOUGH!" cried Charles, his voice echoing through the clearing, stopping the young boy mid-way through his sentence.

He was breathing hard now through his nose, looking enraged.

He turned back to Negan, wrinkling his nose and baring his teeth.

"Look I don't care who you are, Asshole," he snarled out. "This was supposed to be just a simple grab and go, no one had to get hurt, but, hey, you had to mess things up for yourselves."

Charles looked down at the gun in his hands.

"Now...well….now you haven't given me a choice," he said, his adam's apple sliding down his throat as he gave a hard swallow, before he stared back up at Negan, his beady eyes meeting with the Saviour's dark and angry ones " I guess I'm going to have to kill you both, AND take your shit."

Blake gritted her teeth together furiously at his threat, lowering her chin as he wavered for a second.

"Charles," came the woman named Martha's voice once more, sounding desperate. "Please-"

But Charles spoke over her, never taking his eyes off Negan all the while.

"No, Martha! We stick to the plan!" he said loudly, his finger slowly clenching around the trigger...

But Blake, in that instant, took her chance.

This wasn't going to be the way Negan was going to die. Or her either.

Not by the will of some stupid son-of-a-bitch.

And so, with a roar of anger escaping her lips before she could stop herself, the blonde launched herself forwards, snatching the blade from her belt.

Charles quickly caught her movement, his eyes widening.

And neither Blake nor Negan could do anything as Charles suddenly swung the gun around, pointing it in her direction and pulled the trigger.

But Blake, on this occasion, was lucky.

Very lucky.

For today was not going to be the day she got shot for a second time in just a few short months. Nu-uh.

People screamed all around as several bullets peppered the bonnet of their truck, blowing out one of the headlamps.

But Blake just took this as her opportunity, her long legs closing the gap between her and Charles, her knife plunging into the soft meat of his right flank, just below his armpit, causing him to scream out in pain almost immediately.

But now it was Negan's turn.

And with the man before them momentarily distracted, the dark-haired Saviour grabbed Charles' gun with both hands, causing him to turn back around to face him in panic.

"Oh you'll learn my name, you spinless mother-fucker," Negan growled, as he headbutted Charles, sending him sprawling backwards.

He tripped over his own feet a couple of times and fell to the floor in a heap, now without his gun, clutching his bloodied side and whimpering.

Not one of the people standing around made a move to help him now.

Negan stood up straight, face like thunder as he checked the rounds still left inside the gun in his hands, before looking back up to Blake, who both looked and felt, almost unperturbed by the entire situation.

For she had faced bigger and badder people than Charles in her life. Her ex-fiance alone being one of them.

She felt stronger now.

More confident than she ever had been. And knew that was because of what Negan had built her up to be. What he had given her the chance to become.

"Wow, Peaches, I forgot how much of a goddamn badass you can be!" Negan exclaimed suddenly, turning on his heel to face her.

But Blake merely shrugged.

"You can thank me later for saving your ass," she teased, as Negan raised his eyebrows in interest.

His gaze seemed to rove over her in a protective manner, as if checking for any damage, or hurt inflicted on her, before he looked back up to her face, his chin dipped and his eyes sparkling.

"Well in that case, you want to do the honors, Doll?" Negan said suddenly, holding the gun out towards her.

But Blake took a step into him, before staring over at Charles coolly.

"Hmmmmm, I'm not sure," she uttered in a purring voice, with a wrinkle of her nose, turning back to Negan. "I think this is more a job for Lucille."

The dark-haired man before her was silent from a short moment, before that tell-tale grin suddenly flicked up onto his lips, his eyes flashing with glee.

"Oh, Darlin'," he eased out, pressing the gun into her hand for her to hold and leaning his entire form in towards her, his lips lingering close to her ear. "You have no idea how hard for you I am right now."

And Blake, in spite of the situation they found themselves in, found herself smirking as he pulled back from her, his dark eyes fixed to her green ones.

"Well you can always show me later," she said in a vixen-like tone, causing Negan to run his tongue across his lips for a brief moment, before turning away from her once more.

As Charles lay there whimpering , Blake stepped back, her green eyes glinting here and there, making sure none of the others tried anything. But in their defence, none of them moved, all of them just watching the scene before them unfold in silence. All obviously knowing full well what was about to happen and none of them doing a thing to stop it.

Negan paced over towards the cowering man, dragging a hand tiredly down his bearded face.

"Oh Charlie, Charlie, Charlie," Negan hummed out in a low voice that held the tension everyone was feeling, swinging Lucille from his gloved hand threateningly.

The man on the ground attempted now to drag his sorry form away from Negan's advancing one.

He looked a far cry from the bold and arrogant man threatening both of them just a few short moments ago.

But Blake knew of course that was the effect Negan had on people, even the most strong people often floored, both literally and metaphorically, by the man himself.

"Somehow I'm startin' to think that you ain't got that dick an' balls you were busy swingin' between your legs jus' now," sighed the dark-haired man in a voice full of goading. "Cause' you strollin' on out here like you were king of the fuckin' castle, pointin' a damn AK47 at us, well, I've gotta admit, I was lookin' forward to a good ol' fashioned, all-guns-a-blazin', fight."

Negan gave a grimace now, swinging Lucille haphazardly and pointing it towards Charles' skull.

"But Charlie," the Saviour sighed again, as Charles stared up at him fearfully, not saying a word now. "I am very fuckin' disappointed. See there ain't many people that have the fuckin' balls to stand up to me."

Negan shrugged, glancing over his shoulder back at Blake.

"I mean maybe Peaches here," he continued, turning back towards Charles once more. "But you see she's a fuckin' special exception."

Blake raised both eyebrows and pursed her lips, almost rolling her eyes at how predictable Negan was being right now. Not that she minded too much of course.

"But god-fuckin'-dammit do I miss the thrill of an asshole like you steppin' out of the damn ranks, strollin' on up, threatenin' me. But, shit, jus' like a guy in line for the bathroom after a bad truck-stop burrito…. if only you could've followed the. fuck. THROUGH!"

Negan's now-furious voice rang out loud and echoing through the clearing, sending a small group of birds that had been nesting in a nearby tree, fleeing into the air with a mass of screeching calls.

The sound reverberated for a second as Negan visibly seethed, his square shoulders raised, and his teeth now bared in a look of utter distaste at the man now squirming desperately on the ground before him.

Blake had to admit, she almost felt a little bad for the guy, probably just in too deep. Wanting to stand up and be strong for his people, wanting to help them. Just like any leader would.

And for a split second Blake had half a mind to step forwards and stop Negan from making his next move.

But what Charles did next, made her stop in her tracks suddenly…

"Please," cried the man on the ground in a sudden weak voice, peering up at Negan fearfully, his eyes now wide and his voice full of desperation. "P-Please. None of this should be on me. This wasn't my idea…."

He turned and pointed a shaking hand suddenly in the direction of Martha and the others.

"...it was theirs! P-Please...i-if you want to punish anyone, it should be them. They came up with this plan. Not me. It's them that's to blame for all this."

And suddenly Blake was taken back to a familiar voice who had spoken a set of eerily similar words, back in that dusty Sanctuary lot all those many, many months ago.

Back then the cowardly David had done just what Charles was doing now, trying to backtrack, trying to blame others for his own doing. Trying to get others hurt, to save his own skin.

Blake's blood boiled at this, her eyes becoming all of sudden black.

"You utter fucking asshole," she spat suddenly, marching forward on her long legs, shoving past Negan and pointing the barrel of the gun to Charles' skull.

The man before her whimpered, holding his hands aloft.

But Blake had had enough.

She looked up to Negan to at her side, her green eyes meeting with his.

"We done here?" she asked simply.

And Negan gave a knowing nod, grimacing and stepping easily back.

"Oh we sure are, Peaches," Negan murmured out, knowing exactly what Blake was about to do.

And the blonde, with eyes full of utter hatred for the man on the ground before her, merely uttered out a low "good" before firing the gun into the man's skull.

The kickback of the gun jolted her shoulder hard, as blood and viscera spurted out of the back of Charles skull tearing it easily apart.

The brown haired man seemed to flounder there for a moment with a vacant expression before collapsing onto his side. Dead.

Everything seemed to fall silent after that, as Blake gave a sniff, lowering the gun and turning to face Negan.

But the dark-haired Saviour was already staring back at her, his gaze a little questioning.

"Reminded me too much of someone I used to know," Blake explained, before pursing her lips.

And Negan immediately seemed to understand, blinking with recognition of just who she could have been talking about.

"Prick had it comin'," he growled. "Both pricks actually."

The blonde woman gave a small sigh, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as Negan leaned into her once more.

"Jus' wanna let you know though," he said in a meaningful voice. "Your ass looked fuckin' incredible when you were blowin' a hole through ol' Charlie-boy's dome back there."

Blake raise a single slender eyebrow upwards, leaning back on her hip and eyeing him.

"You only saying that because you still think you're gonna get that blow job?" she asked, tutting.

But Negan merely flashed her a grin.

"And am I?"

But Blake merely pursed her lips, smirking and turned away from him, leaving him without an answer.

She strolled easily over to Martha now, knowing Negan's eyes were following her as she went, her face becoming serious now as she stared into the eyes of the other woman.

Martha looked back at Blake nervously but held her gaze.

"How much supplies do you have?" the blonde asked in a gentle voice. Probably far more soft than Martha and the others probably expected after what had happened to Charles.

Martha glanced at the young guy at her side momentarily before turning back to Blake, here eyes flicking over to Negan over Blake's shoulder for a second as she did so.

"We have a little water, probably a couple of days worth, and some cans of food, but not much…" she started in a nervous sounding voice. "...that's why Charles...I-I….we're so sorry...we never meant for anything like this to-"

"Its fine," Blake said with a small shake of her head, her eyes earnest.

None of this, or what Charles had done, was these people's fault.

From this angle staring right at them all, even in the dim evening light Blake could see how gaunt and scrawny these people were, probably surviving off next to nothing for weeks on end.

Blake worried at her bottom lip with her teeth for a short second before she looked over her shoulder back at Negan who was pacing slowly over towards her, barbed wire-covered bat brought up onto his shoulder..

Her eyes met with his and she knew that he understood exactly what she was thinking.

That's why they made a good team. Why they always had been...

For Negan could read her like a book. And vice versa.

And the dark-haired Saviour made no move to argue with her now, merely coming to stop just a foot or two behind her, letting her do what she need to do,

Blake took a breath of air through her nose turning back around slowly, staring once again at Martha, parting her lips.

"How many are you?" she asked in a quiet voice.

Martha blinked rapidly as though she had not quite been expecting this question.

"I...uh...there's twelve of us here," she replied with a stammer. "Plus we have two young kids and their mom just behind that tree line over there."

Blake waited as Martha turned and nodded to a man just over her shoulder who yelled out one of the trio's names. Causing them to appear from the tree-line a little further up the road a second later, all clutching each other's hands and approaching the group.

Blake paused for a moment, looking from the group, to the space at the back of their large pick-up truck then back over to Negan, pursing her lips into a thin line.

"You think we can get them all back to the Sanctuary in that thing?" she asked in a tired voice.

And Negan, rocking back on his heels, pulled a face and surveyed the truck to his right.

"Well we can give it a good fuckin' try, Darlin'..." he mused, looking back at her, his lips curving up into an arrogant grin.

"...I mean, they don' call us the Saviours for nothin'."

Masterlist can be found on my profile page. 

━ ✧ ( nico mirallegro, 26, he/him ) did you hear about generation’s new record ? it’s totally bitchin’ ! isaac carberry was killing it as lead vocalist. people who have interviewed him say they’re really quixotic & convivial, but they can be sort of impish & ungovernable if you catch him at a bad time. a mischievous grin, northern grit, your ex-record label’s offices looking like a jackson pollock after getting your revenge in the form of vandalism.

hello, my loves! — i’m jess, i’m 22 and over in rainy england. i’m recently done with university which gives me a lot of downtime until i find a job so hopefully i can dedicate a lot of that downtime to this fuckin’ rp because it’s gonna be lit i just know it. i’m a huge stone roses fan and 80s/90s-music-obsessed in general so getting to play this character is super exciting for me, so without further ado, meet my trash son: mr isaac carberry. PLEASE HMU FOR PLOTS!

BACKGROUND

born 14th april 1960 in manchester, england to a normal working-class family, isaac was the first born child of james & rose carberry, with a younger sister coming along a few years later. the little family of four lived fairly happily, but struggled financially just as many people did in northern england at the time. 

when isaac was five, his father lost his job as a result of coalmine closures, and times were tough. however, the family kept their spirits high by keeping close-knit, as well as listening to a whole lotta’ music. music was key in the carberry household. it was all around you at all times.

when times would get particularly bleak, his dad would pick up an guitar and play to the kids. he wasn’t very good but watching someone play an instrument and have fun with it sparked something in the eyes of isaac carberry.

tw violence, corporal punishment — during his teenage years, he was a problem child. he was the kid that always got pulled out of class by the headmaster to receive the cane in his office. he could never sit still, was always cracking jokes when he should’ve been doing his schoolwork, etc. it wasn’t talked about at the time, so it went unnoticed, but what isaac was probably dealing with was undiagnosed ADHD. despite this, though, he was a clever child. he had a way with words and looked forward to english class every week, where he would take great pleasure in writing exercises, especially poetry. 

writing was a dreamy, escapist haven for isaac, and this extended to his life outside of school, too. the works he was producing were mostly tongue-in-cheek, light-hearted stories and poems with a recurring “stop taking life so seriously” theme. when he turned 16, however, these poems began to turn into songs. this started to take up a lot of his time especially when he finished secondary school at 16 and went onto sixth form college, where he took music alongside english.

isaac desperately wanted to learn to play guitar, so that he could form some structural melodies to these songs, but struggled with honing the skill of learning an instrument. luckily, when he was 18, he made three friends who could do just that. the four kids would bounce ideas off of each other and hold jam sessions in the tiny little basement of isaac’s family home, but things never went much further than that (at least not yet, anyway.)

isaac decided against going to university, mostly since his family lacked the funds, and instead picked up a full-time job in a grocery store to help out his household’s shared income. 

in 1979, margaret thatcher came into power as the UK’s prime minister, and times got even bleaker. money was even tighter and the working-class situation became an even harder one to be in. the carberry family started sending isaac out on the street after work to sing some of his songs for tips. 

in 1983, aged 23, isaac was in a dark place. no opportunity, no degree, no wealth in the family to fall back on. he ‘rallied up the troops’ so to speak and practically begged his friends to start a band with him. he had plenty of material, after all.

to his relief, they said yes, and were determined to make it work. they were hungry for attention and throwing themselves at any gig opportunities they could get, to get them a bit of money into their pockets. that was it, GENERATION was truly alive and kicking.

at a show supporting another band, generation were noticed by a fellow musician, who took a shine to the band and booked them to support his upcoming uk tour. thus, the band were rising to prominence. fast forward a year and before isaac even had the chance to process it, generation were shaping up to be the biggest band in the uk. isaac could finally give his family everything they needed to better their situation and was having the most amazing time ever doing what he loved.

after independently releasing their own singles, the band got themselves a record deal in early 1985 and released their first full record, a self-titled album. their management wanted to introduce them to US audiences, and thus — that’s how we find ourselves here. 

PERSONALITY

ok sorry for that LONG ass background here’s the nice lil fun part where we can just dick around lmao hey meet my baby boy chaotic aries who is a lovable mess and i will protect him at all costs

literally so much of his personality is inspired by myself lmao we love an aries legend with ADHD but also i owe some of his characterization to the stone roses’ ian brown so if you ever want a look into isaac, watch some interviews or smth because Big Isaac Mood. the last aesthetic in his app references this video

nice, but a fuckin firecracker of a man. intense boi!! he’s a Lot

on first impressions he’s cool and collected and laidback but when you get to know him he can be very exhausting to be around, talks a lot, never tires of energy, etc

has that lopsided, wonky grin that you can’t help but love

lowkey isn’t really overwhelmed by the fame at all, he’s kind of narcissistic in the fact that he??? just feels like it’s really deserved? he knows hes talented jfjhgfjkghf

lowkey maybe highkey a sweetheart

a favourite with the ladies but not good w commitment

has slept around a lot. ladies, fellas, you name it. probably has it in him to settle down someday since he likes the idea of falling in love, but just hasn’t found it as of yet 

charisma literally oozes from him

tw drugs & alcohol / dOeSnT LiKe To sHoW eMoTioNs but then will literally cry w u and pour his heart out if you’re close enough to him or if he’s hella drunk or high on ecstasy 

Reyt fokin’ northern accent, yeh get meh?

man i dont even know can i just post this dumb shit already because this is getting LONG

WANTED CONNECTIONS

ex-girlfriend / groupie — i have this as a wc on the main

best friends will prob be taken by his bandmates but at the time of writing this only one other spot is taken so maybe ill branch out

give me some ppl who just DONT fucking like him

hookups / ex-hookups

someone he can be a bad influence on

someone who is a bad influence on him

someone he’s had beef w in the industry, maybe they said some shit about his band in an interview or something

a slow burn love interest plot................. listen.... gimme the one person he’s falling for and would consider being tied down for. i’d be so soft for that

gimme anything and everything my babies

A Pirate’s Life for Me Ch. 10

Yep. It’s still fuckin’ goin. Six months later, I finally work up the motivation to finish this chapter. I have to thank @rey-thelast-jedi for offering to draw the lovely Captain Gibson for this story; it’s been hugely helpful in pushing me to finish an especially difficult chapter (after an especially dragging absence). 

If anyone catches my stupid Shakespeare joke, congratulations and I’m so, so sorry. Cheers!

AO3 Link:  https://archiveofourown.org/tags/Stella%20Gibson*s*Dana%20Scully/works

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9

Scully rowed through the burning boards of the Claudius, her mouth set in a grim line. She scoured the wreckage for a wooden chest that might contain Stella’s heart. She dared to hope she had beaten Spector to the blow; he hadn’t time to plunge his knife into the captain’s heart before the Claudius was set ablaze.

She looked to the beach, at the entrance to the creek, where a few surviving sailors had gathered at the sight of fresh water. Her paddle caught on the ship’s mast, where it floated in the center of the wreck, and as she dislodged herself, the Jolly Rodger reached from the waves, clinging to her paddle like a squid, sticky and soft from the water. She hauled it into the boat—it was only fair to carry it back to a pirate’s vessel.

In the aftermath of the battle, the bay stilled eerily. No longer did the raucous sounds of soldiers and buccaneers alike rattle on in the distance. Even the island itself, once buzzing with living creatures, had gone quiet, as if Stella’s heart beat life into the enchanted isle, and without it, the landscape itself began to wither. Davy Jones sailed with the dead, while her heart gave life to an island upon which she could never set foot. Stranger things had happened since she left Port Washington.

The rowboat carried her back to the Flying Dutchman, and the ship hoisted her aboard. She tossed the Jolly Rodger beside the a mop that was swabbing seaweed off the deck. Mulder leaned against the railing, just behind the wheel, watching the sun dip as Stella had done so many times. She told herself she’d squared with the possibility that Stella had died, that she was prepared to face the loss. Deep down, she knew adrenaline and unfinished business kept her going. There’d never been a moment to wonder if Stella would survive; Hell, not even to wonder whether she and Mulder would survive. If Spector lived long enough to plunge a knife through Stella’s heart, Scully would put a bullet in his head. An eye for an eye. A pirate’s trial.

“Any sign of Stella?” Mulder asked as she climbed the stairs to the upper deck.

When Scully shook her head, he wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her into a hug. “The crossfire couldn’t have killed her,” he promised, engulfing her in his arms. “You told me so—you’ve seen her get shot three times in chest and walk away unharmed.”

“What if Spector got ahold of the knife? What if he stabbed her heart before the ship went up?” Scully demanded. She stared defiantly up at him, arms crossed, steeling herself to face the worst possible outcome while hoping desperately for anything else.

“Then you would have found her body. The dead always leave bones, Scully. No one just disappears. Isn’t that something you promised me, every time I told a story of ships vanishing on haunted shores? If she died at sea, her body would be there.”

She might have believed him. But Stella’s body belonged to a curse, to the Hall of the Moerae and the forces that bound her to the Dutchman. It was ageless. For all she knew, it turned to sea foam as it hit the waves.

Still, she said, “I know.”

“Scully—” Mulder’s voice caught in his throat. “Scully, look.” He grasped her collar and pointed to the Dutchman’s lower deck. Two hands grappled with the wall, followed closely by a sooty face and a familiar waistcoat. The woman hauled herself over the side and dusted off her pants, and when she looked up, her eyes glittered even from so far away.

Scully practically slid down the netting, clambering toward the captain who stood sopping wet beneath the mast of her ship. “Stella,” she breathed, throwing her arms around her before she could get a word in. “God, Stella.” She took Stella’s ashen cheeks in her hands, took in her shape, her proud nose, the way she spelled relief and admiration and something Scully wanted to believe was love.

Scully kissed Stella with all she could muster, clasping her soot-stained cheeks in her hands. She felt Stella squeeze her waist and sweep her close, saltwater seeping through her coat and sticking to her skin. She stammered as she ran her hands through Stella’s stiff, wet hair. “I knew you couldn’t stay away for long.”

“You blew up a ship for me,” Stella rasped as if she couldn’t quite believe her eyes. “You commandeered the Flying Dutchman, and you sank a ship.” She shook her head, her eyes raking over Scully’s body, from bandanna to linen shirt, trousers, and bare feet. She cracked a dry, eye-crinkling smile. “You spectacular bloody pirate.”

Scully took in those otherworldly blue eyes, swimming in so much life. Socked into a body without a beating heart. Sea water dripped onto her shirt from the scarf tied around her bloody socket. She felt its loss like a garden dug into by foxes; she felt the hollowness of her face. Now, in the tattered absence of rapiers and cannonfire, she felt it fresher than the morning her mother had taught her to bake, and she’d scooped up the sweet-smelling pot with her bare hands. She gulped down a lump she hadn’t bargained for.

Stella’s fingers brushed feather-light over the worn scarf. She softened; her lower lip trembled as she tucked Scully’s hair behind her ear. “I’m sorry for what they did to you, Love. I’m so sorry.”

“Stella,” she scolded, “don’t apologize for my pain.” She pushed aside the lapels of her linen shirt to reveal the pale scar that trailed down Stella’s chest, “I make my own choices.”

“I know.” Stella kissed her again, smearing ash with her thumb down Scully’s cheek. “I never doubted you’d give them a hell of a fight. I won’t take from you the rewards and consequences of your battles. Not from such a respectable captain such as yourself.” She frowned, pulling away. “But I am sorry to see you hurt.”

“Captain Gibson.” Mulder descended from the quarterdeck, his cheeks flush with embarrassment. Scully touched his shoulder appreciatively, shooting him a grateful look as he came up beside them. He’d allowed them a moment of privacy between lovers. For the first time, she’d had carved a space in her heart for someone who wasn’t Mulder and had her life irreversibly altered in Mulder’s absence. Fox Mulder and Dana Scully had the priceless comfort of time, but with Stella, Scully shared romantic intimacy and six weeks at sea, facing monsters and deadly storms. Pirate’s life, she couldn’t help but think. Mulder hadn’t yet settled into piracy, discomfited at first by the Jolly Rodger and the self-sailing Dutchman, but for Scully he was trying, and she could ask nothing more.

Stella acknowledged him with an arch of her brow. “Fox Mulder, I presume. It’s a pleasure to meet you in one piece.”

If Mulder hadn’t had a chance to take in the chaotic grandeur of Davy Jones, he took it now. Scully leaned into Stella’s chest as Mulder studied her features. He took in her weatherbeaten cheeks, the flaking tan on the bridge of her aquiline nose, the severity of her profile. Scully loved that face; it arced and peaked like the desolate landscapes she’d read about as a child. It wasn’t the most welcoming visage, but to watch Mulder shake Stella’s hand felt as though the heavens had lifted a rock from her shoulders.

“Thanks for saving our asses,” said Mulder at last, shoving his hands into his pockets. He’d relaxed visibly in the past few minutes. They all had, slowly settling back into their bodies in the aftermath of the battle.

Stella shot him a wan half-smile. “Being dead has its perks.”

“Are you really—” Mulder stopped himself, struggling to contain his curiosity. “Dead?” it came out as a whisper.

Stella opened her shirt hem again to reveal the scar where her heart used to be and the three white bullet holes above it. One white bullet hole lay to the side, from Scully’s gun. Stella’s father’s gun.

“I’m alive,” explained Stella nonchalantly, “but the thing keeping me that way is thumping in a wooden chest.”

His initial apprehension dissolved, Mulder stared at her like a child who’d just met the fae folk. Davy Jones was the sea’s greatest legend; Stella was every mystery and old wives’ tale Mulder had worked to prove true. Scully couldn’t call her the elusive Truth—she wouldn’t wish that title upon anyone, but she was evidence of something Mulder had spent fifteen years searching for.

A glint over Stella’s shoulder caught her attention. She snatched the scope from Mulder’s hands and held it up to her eye, scanning the shoreline. What she saw squeezed the breath from her chest. Governor Spender hauled his beaten body ashore, crawling onto the pearl-white sand. The chest of Davy Jones was tucked beneath his arm. She growled and pounded her fist on the rail.

“What is it?” asked Stella.

Scully passed her the telescope. “Speaking of your bloody beating heart.”

Stella lifted the scope to her eye. Scully saw the moment it dawned on Stella that her heart was no longer thumping beneath the sand. “Shit,” she spat. “Shit. Fuck. Of course that sorry bastard has the chest.” Her chest heaved as if there were still breath in it. She flicked her gaze between Mulder’s fidgeting fingers and Scully’s gnawing at her lip. Scully drew Stella’s slight body toward her, slipping her arms around her waist.

Scully had never viewed Stella as an affectionate person, someone she had the power to comfort with a touch. Stella Gibson was a solitary creature on the prow of a ship, and to simply hold her had felt like a disturbance of that picture. Now, she sailed over that boundary.

Mulder wrung his hands. “Who has the chest?”

“Spender does.” Scully handed him the telescope. “He’s alive; he made it to shore.”  

She tightened her scabbard and fetched her coat from the rail, where it was hanging to dry. The sleeves were stiff with salt and sand, the collar stained with her blood.

“Scully,” Stella laid a hand on her shoulder, “what are you doing?”

“I’m going after him.”

Stella’s fingers brushed the bandage over her eye. She could still smell the rum on it, where it dried and caked her skin. “I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You didn’t ask. I said I was going.” Scully opened up the back of the pistol and counted the ammunition. “Where do you keep your guns?”

“Scully, listen—”

“Where do you keep your pistols?”

“ Listen to me .”

Beside them, Mulder sucked in a breath and took two steps back.

“What good will it do to save that chest? I’m cursed. I’m dead.”

“I know that,” Scully said breathlessly. “I’ve known that from the night I met you. I came aboard this ship knowing its curse.”

Stella pressed her lips together. “Then you know it can’t be broken. I will not stop you going ashore; I would never stop you. But know this: if you re-bury my heart, or we take it with us upon the Dutchman, it will do you no good to have it. I will still be cursed. You’ll grow old and die by the laws of nature, and I’ll remain as I am now until someone takes up my mantle. Remember what I am before you endanger yourself. I am not human.”

“I know,” Scully rasped. She pressed her forehead to Stella’s and cupped Stella’s cold, bloodless cheek. “I didn’t chase the horizon because I thought I could catch it. I just liked waking up to the sight of it while I could.” She took a deep breath. “Now where are the bullets?”

Stella knit her eyebrows. “Bullets are in the desk in my cabin.”

Scully nodded and fetched a handful of bullets from Stella’s desk. Tucking them into the gun one by one, she tightened the holster over her chest and re-wrapped the bandage around her head. Then she put a clean bandanna over her forehead, holding back her sea-dried hair.

“Scully.” Stella stood at the door of the cabin. “Before you go, I have something for you.” She opened a second drawer in the desk and pulled out a strip of stiff scrap leather. “Come here.”

Scully stepped forward. Stella held the leather up to her face, overtop the makeshift bandage and gauze. “This will do nicely.” She stretched out the leather on her desk, and with her letter opener, carved it into a patch. Then she sliced two eyelash-thin strips of it. Scully watched her work—quickly, methodically, chewing on her lower lip. She hated that someone else had to guard her life. She had relied only on herself for so many years that Scully could only imagine how much she hated this helplessness.

When she was finished, she gently pushed the bandage from Scully’s eye with her thumb. Scully winced. “I’m sorry,” Stella murmured. She sucked in a breath when she saw the damage, and not for the first time, Scully was thankful not to have a mirror nearby. She could feel the swollen skin, the empty socket still stinging from rum and loss. By now, the sting was a fact of life that she ignored as best she could.

Stella cleaned the wound again with the liquor and a wet cloth, unfazed by the rawness of it. If she was horrified, she didn’t say. For a moment Scully had worried she’d be put off of it; then she remembered the three bullets Stella had pulled out of her chest.

“The final touch,” Stella said softly. She slipped the leather strap over Scully’s head and pressed the black patch over her eye. Then she leaned back on her heels and examined her work. A tiny smile poked at the corners of her lips. “It’s not perfect, but you wear it well.”

Scully felt the eye patch—uneven on the edges, a little worn, but a hell of a lot better than the loose cloth she’d been using. “Do I look dangerous?” she teased.

“You look a handsome sailor,” Stella replied.

Scully smiled and patted her pistol. “Aye, Cap’n.”

The Dutchman lurked close to shore as Stella and Scully readied the rowboat one more time. Night had settled into the bay, and more stars speckled in the sky than Scully had seen in her life. Stella had pointed them out to her, one by one—Orion off the port side and Leo on starboard, the planet Venus burning white-hot overhead. Mulder was standing on the quarterdeck with Stella’s spyglass, keeping an eye on the beach.

“It looks like Spender has gone into the woods,” he said. “He was looking fairly weak, so he can’t have gone far. With this sky, you’ll be able to see his footprints.” He pointed to the full moon, hanging like a baby’s mobile over the Moerae.

“Good,” said Scully, “I’ll catch up to him quickly.”

Mulder put down the spyglass. “You mean we’ll catch up to him quickly.”

Scully fixed him with a skeptical stare. “Mulder,” she chastised. “You were hostage until this afternoon.”

“So what?” he said, descending the staircase. “I’m no pirate, but you’ll need all the help you can get.”

Scully gazed at him. “Are you absolutely sure?” She wasn’t sure what answer she wanted to hear more. She wanted Mulder’s company more than anything, but she didn’t want him to risk his life for her quest. After all, Mulder had left her in Port Washington because he couldn’t bear harm to come to her for the sake of his own crusade. Yet where had that decision landed them?

“I came all this way to keep you out of trouble, Mulder.” Scully crossed her arms. “I don’t want you to regret risking your life again.”

“Christ, Scully.” Mulder clasped her shoulder. “I spent my life awash in old wives’ tales. Davy Jones has haunted me since I was only a child. If you’re going to fetch the heart of the Sea Devil, just try to leave me behind.”

“Mulder—”

“You love the Dutchman. You love the open sea and the life of a pirate. You love Stella too much to leave her heart behind, and I love you too much to let you go alone.”

She thinks of Stella slicing out her heart in the Ophelia’s rickety cabin. My father loved England. And I loved my father.

They loosened a rowboat, and the Dutchman held it aloft over the bay. Mulder stepped in.

As the boat lowered, Scully patted her pistol and gazed up at Stella. “Remember me well.”

“Don’t jest with me, Dana,” Stella said. She kissed Scully’s cheek. “Be well.”

Scully sucked in a breath. “And you, Captain.” She climbed over the wall, holding onto the detailing with one hand. Turning her eye to the stars, she let go.

She landed with a thump in the rowboat.

“What’s the plan?” he said. He was sitting on a cross-plank, turning his pistol over in his hand. Scully wondered if the Navy had ever taught him to use it.

“Ideally,” she said, “We threaten his life and he gives us the chest without a fight.”

“Yes, because that worked so well for us last time.”

Scully rolled her eyes. “Spender had a ship of armed men. Now, he’s alone.”

“What makes you think he’ll give?”

“Because he hasn’t cut her heart out by now,” Scully said coldly. “Stella is right about him—he only wants to blackmail her to do his bidding. If there’s no one else to back up his threat, he’s harmless. Look at the way he captured you—he hired a pirate to betray his Navy because he couldn’t bear to do it himself. He’s old, rich, and comfortable. A man like Spender doesn’t fight on a principle; he fights when he knows he’ll win. He takes as much as he can while it’s easy.” She wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Spender would rather be a prisoner on the Dutchman than die trying to command it.”

She touched the pistol again, taking comfort in the smooth hilt—molded to her father’s hands over many years of use. Mulder was watching her, his limbs curled into his body. There were lines in his face she had never seen before, an expression she didn’t recognize.

“You know… no one wants to die, Scully.” It wasn’t until he said her name that she realized what it was, the expression he was wearing: fear.

She took a deep breath. “I know.”

“Do you?”

“Of course not,” she said quickly. “But—there are things that mean more to me than law and safety. My principles, my family…” she touched Mulder’s hand. “My friends.”

She studied him, this living face she hadn’t seen in weeks. She measured his features in the moonlight. His lower lip pushed out from his teeth like a puppy, or a young boy just getting his permanent teeth. His brow-line was perpetually worried, hanging over warm hounds’ eyes. He was at once far stronger and far weaker than her. He was a much more experienced sailor, but Scully had become something else altogether—a pirate.

“It’s funny,” he said. “All my life you’ve been the voice in my ear, telling me not to do anything foolish.”

“Are you saying that’s become your job?”

Mulder frowned. “I’m saying that if you wanted to do something foolish, I’m not sure I could stop you.”

The boat bucked in a wave, and Scully pitched forward. She gripped the wet rail as seawater sprayed her face. Mulder sputtered, snorting and shaking his head to get the water out of his nose. And Scully laughed, quietly at first, then shamelessly. Mulder joined in, a belly laugh she hadn’t heard since before he left Port Washington. He clutched his chest, his whole body bent in half and shaking uncontrollably. Scully’s lungs heaved, and a hiccup escaped her, which only made Mulder laugh harder.

They were still snickering when their boat bumped against the sand. The moon was high overhead, and the beach glowed a cold grey. She nearly expected the sand to feel like snow in her hand, but it was the same beach she’d crossed that morning. The treeline, under cover of night, was even more sinister, palm fronds dangling like fingers above the forest floor.

They followed the footprints Spender had left in the soft earth—the loping and limping tracks of a battered old man. Scully was confident they could outrun him. They hacked through bushes and vines rather than go around. They squeezed beneath roots as the trees turned from palms to monstrous oaks, thicker than she’d ever seen. They blotted out the stars, making the footprints nearly invisible. Still, strips of moonlight pierced the canopy like meat skewers, just enough to guide their way.

Then the trees vanished, as abruptly as waking from a dream. The woven roots gave way to granite, a stone desert dotted with scrub and cacti. On their right, the rock bent like a giant’s shoulders into massive cliffs. Even where she could standing, she could hear waves pound the bluff far below. She scanned the barren landscape. A silhouette stumbled through the plain.

“Mulder, look.” She pointed to the tiny figure. She started to run, always listening for the pound of his footsteps behind her.

As they approached Spender, their pace slowed. Scully constantly scanned the ground for dry scrub or gravel that would alert him to their approached. But Spender dragged on, hugging the precious box to his chest. His uniform was tattered, unbuttoned, scorched at the edges. The moon transformed his hair from grey to bone-white. He looked dead.

Once she reached a proper firing distance, Scully raised her pistol. “Stop.”

Spender froze. Slowly, he turned around. A bloody gash across his forehead muddled his face, giving him a half-eaten look. He was decaying before them, shrinking like pipe weed when it burns. He broke into a wheezing chuckle. “Fox Mulder and Dana Scully. How appropriate.”

Scully cocked the pistol. “Give us the box.”

“Why?”

“If you don’t, you’ll die.”

Spender was silent. He glanced between her and the vast expands of stone. He started to turn, and she realized—he didn’t think she would do it.

“Fuck you,” she snarled. She pulled the trigger. The bullet nicked the bottom of his loose sleeve. It wasn’t an accident—she was a better shot than that—but it had the desired effect. Spender’s eyes bugged like an insect. She noticed the tremble in his limbs. He knew the Dutchman was his only hope of escape. If he left, and Scully let him go, he would die on this island.

“Give up the chest, and we’ll take you back to Port Washington with us,” she said softly. “You’ll be a captive aboard an indomitable ship. You’ll be safe.”

Spender curled his lip. “And what about the Sea Devil?”

“She won’t kill an unarmed prisoner.”

“She’s a pirate,” he spat.

“And you have nothing to offer her. You’re disgraced. You have no gold, no land, no power.”

“Then why should I come with you? Why should I rot in jail with dogs and crooks?”

Scully curled her lip in a snarl. “Because without the Dutchman, you are doomed to wander this island until you die of heat exhaustion. Because even if you have the dagger, you couldn’t bear to stab that heart and take up Davy Jones’ mantle, utterly alone forever. You will live in prison, because you can’t live with yourself.”

Behind her, she heard Mulder take a step back.

Spender’s head hung off his neck like a vulture’s. He shivered. “Do you promise you’ll spare my life?”

Scully crossed her chest. “On my honor and the blood of Davy Jones.”

Spender put down the box. Then he reached into his coat and pulled out the dagger. The metal sang when it hit the ground. Mulder stepped forward and grasped Spender’s arms, tying them behind his back. Scully picked up the box.

It was heavier than she expected. It was made of iron and damp, dark wood. It was frigid under her fingertips. She could hear a rhythmic thump-thump inside that she tried to ignore. On the lid was an inscription.

“Ye dead man’s fingers never touch the Dutchman’s heart,” Scully read aloud. It chilled her.

Mulder held Spender by his wrists. “Let’s go, Scully.”

She glanced at the sky—clouds had begun to gather, not yet obscuring the moon, but harboring a coming storm. “You’re right. Let’s get back to—”

A gunshot. Scully dropped to a crouch. Spender crumpled in Mulder’s grip, choking and blathering. His body thumped against the earth.

She looked over Mulder’s shoulder. A man of about thirty was clinging to the edge of the cliff, his torso hauled over the side. He had friendly features that seemed to have thinned over time, taken on a rat-like quality. His eyes were fierce and cruel. This, Scully knew in an instant, was Captain Spector.

“Down with the heart,” he ordered, pointing his pistol at her. “Come on.”

Mulder cocked his pistol. “Two against one. Are you sure Stella’s heart is worth your life?”

A wicked smile crossed Spector’s lips. “Oh, you know her by name? Stroppy Stella, the great lady buccaneer. The great Davy Jones.” He sneered. “It’s only a name. What’s there to fear in a name?”

“You’re not convincing me,” Scully snapped.

“All right then,” Spector said, almost chipper. “Why don’t we settle this like gentleman? With a duel, for the dead lady’s heart. You and me, Miss Scully. After all, she’d give her heart to you freely, if you asked for it.”

“Scully—” Mulder started.

Scully held out her hand. “I accept.”

At the same time, they holstered their guns. Scully dropped the chest beside Mulder.

“What are you doing?” he hissed.

Scully fixed him with the sharp gaze of one eye. “What I know how to do.”

She drew her sword. It wasn’t Stella’s father’s sword anymore—that was in the wreckage of the Claudius. But it belonged to the Dutchman, and she hoped it would lend her good luck.

Spector attacked first. She parried his strike and moved to stab at his knee, but he was quicker than she expected. He backed her toward the tree line, but she regained the ground when he briefly lost his footing. Back and forth they carried on.

She tried twice to disarm him but found him prepared for the blow. Spector had been training for longer than she had. Still, she heard her father’s voice in her head: strike; parry; lunge; watch your footwork. Always strike where he least expects it.

She caught him in the foot, and he yowled, but he blocked her next blow easily. The injury slowed him though, and soon she was gaining ground. His moves became more and more desperate. She blocked, expecting to disarm him with the next strike.

Then he reached for his pistol. She ducked before the shot went off, but the damage was done—she was on the ground. She felt Spector’s boot on her shoulder, shoving her onto her back. His sword point was at her throat, his gun at her forehead.

“No!” Mulder shouted. He aimed his own pistol at Spector, and Scully squeezed her eye shut, expecting at any second for a bullet to enter her head.

Bang. Bang. Bang. Three shots. She felt nothing. Tentatively, she opened her eye. Blood dribbled from Spector’s chest and forehead. His eyes wide with terror, he stumbled backwards. He used his last living breath to stare, glazed and shock-stricken at the person who shot him.

Stella.

ohmygod you’re like the only piss blog I’ve seen that likes dangan/ronpa skskskkssksks this makes me so fuckin happy hhhhh could you possibly do headcanons for some of the dr1 cast? id prefer all of them - but if you want to choose your favourites that’s fine 💗💗 i fuckin love u and ur blog already daawwww

Ahh thank you, I’m glad you like my blog! 💛 And yeah there isn’t much omo for DR which surprised me! I’ll do most of them, sparing a few I don’t know well (Leon, Sayaka, that spoilery girl from the beginning) or didn’t like (Hifumi and fortune guy)! :

Naegi: I’m not a huge fan of bedwetting, but I agree he definitely would in times of stress. Also he has a kinda weak bladder in general. Soda and stuff goes right through him. For the most part he can manage during trials (even if he tends to rush off as soon as the execution is over), but investigations run even longer so he usually ends up having to take breaks (to the possible annoyance of anyone he’s sleuthing with). When he’s desperate he thinks he’s subtle but absolutely isn’t, constantly squirming and bouncing/rocking on his heels, shoves his hands in his hoodie pocket like he isn’t actually grabbing his crotch, tends to whimper and groan under his breath. Often tries to hold longer around composed/strong ppl like Kirigiri, Byakuya, Sakura and Mondo, but often with embarrassing results. Not too shy to speak up around friends or more casual people if nothing’s going on, but the often serious situations they find themselves in make it more difficult (darting off to pee right after you find out a friend died is both in poor taste AND suspicious). Probably doesn’t have a piss kink. Willing to go in odd places if necessary.

Celeste: Ever poised, she’s the type who wouldn’t want to say anything and just holds it until she can slip away to maintain her dignity. For the most part she knows her limits and doesn’t get desperate often, but during times when she’s heavily invested in a task or just really doesn’t want to leave, she may overestimate her abilities, since she’s convinced she can ‘simply adapt’ to the increased pressure and ignore it until a more convenient time. Since she has a great poker face she usually manages to avoid letting on that anything’s wrong even if she’s absolutely dying, but once she gets close to or actually is wetting herself, the act falls apart and she gets really panicked and flustered. Around ppl that annoy her (like Hifumi or Byakuya) though, her temper will flare instead and she’ll lash out, converting all of her embarrassment into rage at them for somehow causing/witnessing the event (even if they had nothing to do with it). She’s extremely embarrassed when wetting herself (and also disgusted), but will try her best to play it off afterwards like it isn’t a big deal (again, with a speech about adapting and going with the flow), but her voice is noticeably shaky and she probably cries as soon as she’s alone. Would rather die/wet herself than go in odd places.

Also I kinda like the idea of her teasing other ppl when they’re desperate if they’re alone together (maybe a slight omo kink, or just bc she likes controlling ppl). Preferably Byakuya or Kirigiri (idk why those are just my two fav pairings for casual fun times with her).

Kirigiri: Always composed, aims to stay that way. Usually slips off without a word because it’s private business anyways. If asked when it isn’t a big deal, she’s fine with saying where she’s headed, but once she gets desperate enough she’ll feel self-conscious of ppl knowing how bad it is and makes up a lie instead. If a restroom isn’t available or it’s a serious situation, she would rather die than breathe a word, and will do her absolute best to avoid giving off any signs of her issue until she’s literally on the verge of wetting herself. Might work up the trust to tell Naegi if they’re close enough by that point, maybe Celeste, Sakura or Aoi if Naegi isn’t around and she knows it’s Ask For Help or Wet Yourself, but she’s just as likely to stay quiet if her proper nature gets the best of her. Refuses to hold herself under any circumstances, tends to just use her legs to help stave off the urge. Due to her resourceful nature, she will consider using odd things/places as a last resort, although she also has a chance of freezing up when attempting to actually go, since she’s nervous and isn’t used to it (personally, I LIVE for the idea of Naegi helping her with this and trying to relax her while she’s like, actually whimpering and showing vulnerability for the 1st time).

Might have a piss kink bc I do like the idea of her being attracted to something that’s the opposite of what she is (messy, juvenile, vulnerable). Also consider her genuinely wanting to help Naegi when he’s desperate but at the same time she’s really tuned on and praying it doesn’t show.

Chihiro: So shy oof, will never breathe a word and is really good at not giving any signs until he’s suddenly pissing himself. Would definitely cry and be mortified, needs lots of comfort afterwards (luckily p much everyone gives it to him). Practiced at holding for LONG stretches of time thanks to his secret making things inconvenient, and also because programming takes a ton of time in single sittings and he doesn’t want to get up and wreck his train of thought. I think he actually would be the type who has a huge closet kink, gets turned on by desperation and holds, fantasizes about wetting in public a lot, but would actually die and hate if it happened for real.

Mondo: Bladder of steel actually, takes great pride in this. He’ll often tease others for being weaker. When he does get desperate, he won’t whine pathetically or hold himself, but he will get snippy and make a few complaints about it. Has no qualms about pissing outside or in anything else, even if there are people around. If he did wet himself, it would be a blow to his pride, but he’d eventually get over it (it helps that ppl are too afraid to tease him unless they want a beating). I could see him having a piss kink for both sides, and also being into 'marking’ his lover.

Taka: Will ask as soon as he needs to go bc there’s no point putting it off, but if someone tells him no then that’s it. The answer is no and he’ll hold it without protest until he’s literally leaking, then maybe he’ll work up the nerve to choke out a plea. If denied again he’ll hold on as long as physically possible, only to finally lose control and be mortified. Thinks he’s good at hiding desperation but is even more obvious than Naegi. Has a decent enough bladder capacity, but once he has to go, he has to GO. Like right then. He can’t stand bothering ppl or being disrespectful, so he would refuse to use anything but a toilet (maybe he’d go outside if there was enough cover and he was coaxed into it). No piss kink at all, would be baffled by the concept.

Sakura: Bladder of Steel (stronger than Mondo). Shows no real sign of desperation, even up to the end. When it gets bad she’ll start sweating though, and her posture is even stiffer than usual. Is actually pretty shy about bringing up her need (both bc of how strong she’s supposed to be and just bc she’s bashful), but she will if she knows she’s at risk of wetting herself. More likely to tell Aoi than anyone else, or maybe Naegi. Will never hold herself bc tbh those thighs can already crush together enough to hold it. Might go outside or in odd places if no one is around and she absolutely can’t wait, altho she is embarrassed af (and it’s kinda hard to hide when you’re that big o o f). Has no piss kink and is actually a bit disdainful of it, altho she would never shame a partner if they confessed. Might do it once in a while for them if asked.

Aoi: Will be the first to tell you the blue pool dye thing is just an urban legend. She’s the girl who whines for all of her friends to come with her when she has to pee, makes a lot of jokes the whole time. Not super weak bc she has to hold it on jogs and stuff, but she tends to drink a lot and doesn’t really like to hold past a certain point. Not shy at all about mentioning her need unless it’s a very grim situation, and if prevented from going she will dance around a bit, cross her legs, maybe a quick crotch grab, while still whining the whole time bc it helps distract her. Will use anything and go anywhere if it’s bad enough, too chill to care as long as ppl promise to keep their backs turned. Might have a mild omo kink.

Byakuya: Doesn’t go out of his way to admit his need, but will walk off and say so if it’s a fairly casual situation. Has a harder time hiding it than Kirigiri and Celeste despite also being uptight, bc his temper flares up and he gets extra snippy if he has to go, which usually clues ppl in. Also he taps his foot/jiggles his leg CONSTANTLY. Wouldn’t touch his crotch unless he was literally wetting himself, but will cross his legs/bend at the waist. Refuses to go anywhere but a proper restroom. Wetting himself is humiliating and he would brush off any comfort and storm off to be by himself. Probably takes his anger out on Touko. Has zero piss kink to speak of, will spit on you if you suggest it.

Touko Fukawa: Can’t stand ppl knowing she has to go, would probably kill over if anyone mentioned it. She fidgets a lot when desperate, but ppl actually don’t notice bc she already acts pretty weird and fidgety and is so closed off anyways. Wouldn’t dare leave if she was supposed to be with a group of ppl, but the second she’s alone she’s making a dash for it. She’s used to holding for a pretty long time (too anxious to leave during class, long writing sessions at home, etc.), and even then if she’s determined enough to avoid embarrassing herself, she can hold longer. Probably the only one who can (and does) let out tiny leaks in order to hold longer, and has exceptional control. During moments of terror though, she fear wets, which mortifies her. Does not have a kink in the slightest, it grosses her out.

Genocider Sho: Urine doesn’t bother her at all, which is good since sometimes she wakes up only to find Touko pissed herself. Has the same capacity, but is much more outspoken when she needs to go. Complains a lot, exaggerates her body language and cracks jokes, might get cranky if it’s inconvenient for her. However, she doesn’t care if she loses control, and might do it on purpose just to piss somebody off. She has a HUGE piss kink. Be it herself as the victim for her own pleasure, or her getting to dom somebody else and force them to hold (BYAKUYA). She’s also a big slut for watersports. Sometimes she does this to have fun and get filthy, then makes herself sneeze and switch afterwards just for the sake of fucking with Touko.

Junko: Absolutely has a piss kink, loves to tie ppl up and watch them squirm and blush until they soak themselves. When she has to go she’s very vocal, bouncing around and groaning, whining, playing it up and holding herself to put on a show. Would be fine to go anywhere tbh, but pretends she only accepts proper bathrooms so that she has an excuse to hold it longer. Doesn’t care if she wets, but insists she gets cleaned up and in new clothes right away bc she also cares about looking pretty.

Heavy Hitters- Chapter 6

Heavy Hitters: Outlaw Country pt 6, Interim.

Sara convinces an old friend to join the Waverider team- as research and tech guru only, or so she said. As the newbie struggles to adjust to the team and the team struggles to adjust to her, Sara is playing a different game all together. One the new girl might not like too much.

Fandom: Legends of Tomorrow (or Flash or Arrowverse since it’s Mick Rory, but specifically LoT)

Pairing: Mick Rory x Plus Size OFC (cause Mick totally likes thick ladies)

Word Count: 1220

Warnings: Language, tiny bit of angst, sexual suggestions

Tags: @sergeantjbuckybarnes @mother-forker @pattpattpatterson (thanks, guys so much for your support! I hope you dig the new chapter!)

Part one     |     Masterlist

A/N: I’m hoping to start updating this once every week. Unfortunately that means the chapters will be about this length or a little shorter. Or, if y’all prefer, I can do 3k word chapters every other week. Let me know!

Also, shout out to @adventuresofnight and @professionalunicorn400 for reblogging every chapter of this so far! You guys are great! Since ya’ll have been complete dolls, please message or ask me! I’d like to write something special for ya’ll!

“Sara,” another sigh, “Mick has an affection for fire, Amaya uses a totem, those two were fused thanks to some kind of bullshit science, Nate is a genetic anomoly, Ray is just really fuckin’ smart-” “And me?” Pause. Breathe. Hold. Release. “And you made the best of a really shitty situation that was completely out of your hands- multiple times.” Emily held Sara’s hands and gaze. “I’m a whole different ball game, baby.” Sara was reluctant to give up. “Just-” Unfortunately, Emily was just as stubborn. “Just, fucking think about it. Ok?” “Okay.”

Pluto whined softly as Emily turned over again. The ship had gone into its night cycle more than 4 hours ago and they were both still awake. More Emily than Pluto; of course, Pluto thought the answer was simple. Emily, not so much.

“Fuck it,” she sighed, throwing her covers back and slipping on her slippers. She sat on the bed trying to decide what to do. Emily settled on more research. Pluto huffed when she turned back to him. Emily smiled, “It’s alright, baby,” she ruffled the fur on his head, “You can stay here if you want. I’m just going back to the library. I’ll be back soon.”

He whined shortly but stayed in bed all the same.

She stepped softly as she shuffled down the dark corridor laughing inwardly at herself. The halls of the ship at night reminded her so much of a reoccuring nightmare and yet… This wasn't the nightmare. It wasn’t panic-inducing at all. The only anxiety she seemed to feel, in fact, was her own self-imposed anxiety that she lived with. Currently, it was mostly over her- the- crew finding the footage of her terrible inappropriate pyjamas.

Emily padded into the small library and turned on a lamp.  The Waverider library might no have been very extensive but it did house a long list of very rare and one-of-a-kind books. Some of those were right up Emily’s alley, too.  Including, the original 1743 Agrippa manuscript. She smiled genuinely as she gently pulled the rough, leather bound book from its place on the shelf. She settled into the cushioned chair and carefully oried back the soft cover. Emily curled up, pulling her feet into the seat and dove into the book.

The Agrippa was more than she had heard, more than she dared hope for when she first spied it on the overfilled shelf.

Emily lost herself to the pages of the book as if they had actually managed to enchant her. She lost track of time, of where she was, of what was around her, the slow constant hum of the ship phasing her into a trance within the manuscript.

She didn’t hear his heavy bare feet slapping along the hard floor, or smell the smoke that seems to follow him everywhere or even feel his intense gaze as he stood not ten feet away and stared at her.

“Didn’t know you could smile like that, Sweets.”

Emily jumped out of her skin, slamming the book closed and turning towards the towering pyromaniac, her fist tight and ready for a fight.

Mick raised an eyebrow at her, arms crossed against his massive chest. Emily blew out a long breath and smiled at him. “Shee-it, Mick,” she laughed, “You scared me half’ta death!”

He smirked down at her in response. Deep brown eyes roving up and down her body. He looked at her wide feet with chipped purple polish on her toenails, her strong calves with faint scars criss crossing them- he made a mental note to find out about those later- her thick thighs pressing against tight grey yoga shorts, a flash of color catching his eye when she shifted awkwardly. Her printed tee shirt was oversized and hung off of one shoulder a bit, her hair pulled up in a loose messy bun, exposing another flash of color and a few more scars, freckles dotting her skin here and there. He absolutely examined her. And said nothing. For an uncomfortably long time. Long enough that her smile faltered.

“What?” He’s going to ask. Of course, he is.

Mick pulled a chair from a table roughly and sat it across the desk from her. “I gotta know,”

Fuck, here it comes. Emily tried to swallow her apprehension.

“How the hell can you read that mumbo-jumbo and actually smile?”

That… was not what Emily was expecting Mick to ask. “Uh,” she blinked a few times, “I guess I just think it’s interesting.” She glanced at the book then back up at him. “You’ve never tried to read it, have you?”

“Nah, got better things to do,”

“Like what?” Emily challenged, meeting his eyes again.

That manic grin lit up his face, “Like burnin’ things, baby!”

Emily couldn’t suppress the smile or bubbly giggle she felt in her throat at his expression. “Well, if it was a book on fires, I’m sure you’d be all over it!”

“I dunno, Sweets. Depends on how graphic the pictures are.” She chucked at that too. Damn. Who knew I was this funny? “Cute laugh, ya got there.”

She stopped immediately.

Shit. Why’d you say that? Stupid.

“Um,” Emily shuffled nervously and tucked a stray strand of hair back into place trying desperately to ignore- and subdue- the burning on her face and neck without breaking eye contact. “Thank you. Can I, uh, help you with somethin’, Mick?”

“Nah, just saw the light. Figured I’d check it.” He made himself comfortable in the chair, slouching a bit.

“I see.”

“Yep.” Emily nodded and went back to her book while Mick stretched his arms behind his head and rested his eyes.

For a bit they were in a companionable silence. Emily resisted the urge to lose herself again. She was aware of Mick’s eyes on her this time.

He grunted and sat back up staring at her hard again. She met his eyes and straightened her back. “Hey, I gotta question for ya.”

“Sure. Whats up?”

“You and Blondie have a lot of secret conversations.”

“Yeah…?” Emily wasn’t excited about where this was going.

“So, y’all fuckin’?”

Emily sat in stunned silence for a beat. Then burst out in loud full bodied laughter. Not cute girly giggling, no. This was the ugly, snorting laugh hardly anyone heard.

Now, Mick sat in stunned silence.

“That's uh… that's quite a laugh…”

“S- sorry! It's just-” Emily struggled, “Do- do you honestly think my pussy’s that good, that Sara, of all people, would put me on a fuckin’ time ship?”

He cocked his head as he considered the plump woman in front of him. And how she would look against the lithe blonde captain. “Nah, I guess not. Not Sara’s style.” His predators grin slid across his face again, “So, how good is that pussy?”

Recognizing the challenge, Emily grinned too. “Fuckin’ magical.” She snickered at her own little joke.

“Huh.” He considered her for a few moments longer. She was opposite him in so many ways- soft where he was rough, kind in a way he couldn’t be. But Mick Rory knew a fire when he saw one. The question was only, just how hot does her flame burn?

“Alright then. Why are you here?”

Breathe. Hold. Release.  Emily bit her lip harshly but never broke eye contact. They deserve to know. I have to try, right? “I um…” she licked her lip tasting faint iron, “I’ve known Sara for a while. I’m what she likes to call a ‘90 minute player’. I’m… adaptable.”

Their stare down continued, vibrant viridans clashing against burning blues. “Ain’t done much yet, Sweets. Guess your time to ‘play’ ain't here yet.”

Emily’s blood ran cold. Her heart skipped a beat and her breath caught in her throat.

The chair screeched loudly in the stifling silence between them as Mick stood, his heavy footfalls echoing behind him.

Til next time, loves! Be kind to each others, and yourselves! 

A Long Night of Fun and Family

So! This is the first bonus chapter for Can’t Help Falling In Love and the Collide/Ricochet/Impact series. This takes place six months after the end of Can’t Help Falling Love. This is also the first chapter that @suz-123 and I have written together! I hope everyone enjoys this!

WORD COUNT: 11,074!

July 2022

“Righ’, everyone ready?”

“Ready as we’ll ever be, big guy.”

Simon raised an eyebrow at Maggie who grinned back up at him. Together for three full years now, managing the reconstruction of The Council and the new management of The Slayers that still resided back in their home dimension, they were a brilliant team when they worked together.

Maggie had mellowed Simon to the point he was no longer scary and unapproachable and Maggie was most Slayers first point of call if they ever needed someone to talk to, Maggie didn’t care where they were in the world or what time it was, she would help them and then make sure they got any professional help.

Which was the reason for this trip, Megan the Vampire Slayer, who was stood behind them, with Kerry stood next to her, was close to a burn out, and needed, desperately, to get away from the intense pressure.

So, Simon had Gavin and his coven send the message through the portal and, just three days ago, Tony Stark and King T’Challa had responded. Megan would come through and go to Wakanda in the first instance, training with the Dora Milaje and spending time with a successfully retired and happy Slayer would help her.

Tony had offered a place with The Avengers if she so desired as well, after all, there was another successfully retired and happy Slayer living with them, too.

Not that Simon was excited to see Alice or anything.

Megan and Kerry the Vampire Slayers shifted behind him, nervously. Simon doubted they were nervous about the magic that was swirling around them, they were used to that, Kerry particularly. For Megan though, going somewhere new? Where she wouldn’t be forced to fight for her life every night? It would be harder than he thought most people would ever give credit for.

Unfortunately, that was one thing that Simon hadn’t been able to change. Slayers existed for a reason, and that reason never slept.

“Okay, the portal is ready. Step through.” Gavin’s eyes were black as he channeled the magic through. Gavin was alright now, he had gone back to his coven and he had stabilised, he wasn’t terrified of Slayers anymore and he worked for The Council directly.

Squaring his shoulders, Simon looked behind him, addressing Megan directly. Kerry had had experience going here after all. “Alright, you’ll feel a bit nauseous, maybe lightheaded, when you get through, but-”

Megan rolled her eyes and stalked past him,

“Talk is cheap, man.” Her Queens accent was haughty as she ran the last few steps and through the portal.

“For fucks sake, mate.” Simon grumbled. “Okay then. Let’s fuck off, yeah?”

Kerry giggled and ran past him too, taking a leaf out of Megan's book and launching herself through.

“Oh, Stark is going to give me so much grief for this.”

Maggie laughed At Simon’s discomfort, “Who cares? Let him. I wanna see Alice and Evie, dammit!”

Taking her hand, Simon stepped through, hoping that Alice was still as happy as she was when he had last seen her. A lot could change in two years.

***

“So. You have that control over The Slayers, thing, down I see.” Stark quipped once they were through and Simon grimaced.

Kerry and Megan had already left the building.

“Shit! Where the fuck-” Simon got to his feet, the lightheadedness was no joke, and tried to brush past him but Stark put a hand on his arm, halting his movements.

“It’s okay, big guy, Alice had a feeling something like that would happen, I immediately took them both to a car that will take them to a private airfield and they'll head straight on over to Wakanda. Kerry, obviously, knew who I was, made Megan see I was trustworthy.”

“Oh. Right.” Simon still stared out of the hallway after them.

“It’s okay,” Tony clapped him on the shoulder, “Kerry was super eager to see Gail and I may have set a surprise up for her.”

“Oh?” Simon raised an eyebrow. Kerry did not like surprises.

“Oh yeah. There’s an… event coming up soon in Wakanda and I’ll be sending my best wing wearing guy out there to be an Avengers guard.”

“You puttin’ Kerry and Sam in the same room? That’s brave. What’s the event?” Simon asked.

“Alice and Bucky should be heading there too, soon. Big reunion for the three of them.” Tony rushed out but, before Simon could follow up, Maggie stormed through and upto Tony.

“So, Tony. How’s Pepper? When’re you getting married? How’s Steve and Evie? Did they get hitched? Did they get divorced?!” Maggie asked excitedly.

“Woah!” Stark held up his hand. “Okay, firstly, Pepper is good. Secondly, don’t know yet, we haven’t discussed it. Thirdly, Steve and Evie are great, they got married and, no, not divorced and-”

Tony stopped, open mouthed, as Maggie whooped in joy and Simon groaned, taking some money from his pocket and slapping it into her palm.

“What?” Maggie was all smiles as she pushed the bills into her pocket, “He thought they wouldn’t last! I knew better though. As usual.”

“Well, yeah, good call.” They began walking to the SUV that was parked outside, “Actually, Steve and Barnes retired, not long after Steve and Evie got married.” Tony grinned at the shocked look on Simon and Maggie's faces. “Yeah. They still recruit and train but they don’t go on missions anymore.”

“What abou’ Al? How’s she doin’?” Simon asked quickly, he didn’t give a crap about the others, well, he did, but, Alice was the one who he really wanted to hear about.

“Alice is… busy. Recently. Still studying and doing stuff with Colleen, I think she wants to do more to help people with psychological trauma and learn more about dreams and stuff but, yeah, she’s been busy.”

“Why? What-?” Simon thought the worst but Tony held up a hand again.

“Steve and Evie? They had twins six months ago and-”

“Ohmigod!!” Maggie squealed. “I’m so happy for them!”

“Well, I’m driving you out to theirs now, you’ll be staying with them whilst you’re here so you’ll get to catch up.”

“And Alice and Bucky? What about them? I mean… I got news for Al and I don’t want to upset her.”

Tony raised an eyebrow but Simon didn’t elaborate so he continued, “They’re both busy but both still sickeningly in love, really, it’s gross. At least I don’t have to pay for beds anymore.” Tony griped, good naturedly.

Simon cringed but silently, he was more excited than ever.

The legend, and the tests, said that Slayers couldn’t have kids. That was the facts of life for them.

But, The Council had just found out, four Slayers in various parts of the world had just become pregnant. The coven and the doctors weren’t sure why but it was definitely there and the babies were healthy, one was due to be born in the next couple of weeks, in fact.

Simon really wanted to tell Al that her and Bucky might yet be parents, after all. It must be terrible to be living with a married couple who had just had twins when you thought you would never have that yourself.

“Simon?! Did you hear that?! Okay, when we get a chance, we’ll sneak Alice away and tell her about these others! I want to see her face!”

Pulling Maggie to him he kissed her, part because he wanted to and part because he wanted her to be quiet, “Yeah, alright babe. Seein’ twins ain’t gonna start making you baby crazy, is it?” Worry laced Simon’s tone.

It wasn’t he didn’t want kids with her, it was that the thought of being like his own mum, not being there and then getting killed on the job, haunted him. He didn’t want to put a child through that.

“Nah. We’re good. I like babies because I can hand them back.”

“Okay, I’m calling Evie to let her know we’re on our way, we haven’t told Alice you’re coming, we want to surprise her.”

Simon frowned, “What is it with you an’ surprises, mate? Al hates surprises. All fuckin’ Slayers hate surprises.”

“I’ll think she’ll like this one.”

***

“Wakey wakey, sleepy head. Did you have a good sleep, my darling? Are you ready to play with your brother and your cousins?”

Alice’s heart filled with love as her daughter looked up at her and reached both little arms for her, her teal coloured eyes lit up with baby joy and she started babbling away in her little language.

“Mama!”

“Becca!”

“Mama!”

“Becca!”

They played this little game every time Alice was there to change her and get her dressed after she woke up, Becca's first word had actually been “Dada” which she had said when she was six months, making Bucky cry and Alice feel like she would pop with the love she had for them.

Becca was sixteen months old now and her vocabulary was pretty good, she had names for almost everyone she knew, soon, Alice was certain she would start stringing small sentences together but right now, she just loved hearing her beautiful daughter call her “mama”.

“Dada!”

Alice grinned down at Becca as her legs kicked in the air, making Alice laugh as she tried to hold on to her so she could change her, and giggling her own little baby giggles.

“You want to give me a hand, dada? Or you just going to watch me struggle?”

Bucky was lounging in the doorway to Alice’s right, small smile playing on his lips.

“Can’t a man just watch his best girls?” Bucky pushed away from the doorway and walked over, standing next to her and smiling down at his daughter.

“Hey Becca!”

“Dada!”

All three of them carried on this vein for a while, testing Becca but she never faltered. They did this every day and it was the most favourite part of Alice’s day. Seeing her daughter get smarter… seeing Bucky become more and more wrapped around her little finger… Alice never knew she could feel this happy.

“Hey,” Bucky lifter her chin so he could meet her eyes, “Where’d you go?”

“Nowhere. I’m already there.” Alice grinned and kissed Bucky, wrapping her arms around his neck.

Hunter came in and sat next to the changing table, keeping his eyes on his “sister” as Alice and Bucky enjoyed their quick and passionate kiss.

“C’mon, doll. We can continue this later, maybe see if Stevie will take Becca tonight an’ we’ll take the twins tomorrow or something?” Bucky whispered against her lips before pulling away and smirking.

Alice mock pouted at the loss, “Okay, okay, sweet talker. We’ll see. I dunno… I just…” Looking down at Becca who was currently holding onto both of her feet and making a “bbrrrr” noise to herself, Alice felt some random fear swell up and started babbling, “M-maybe… no, it’s okay, Becca should come home and we should keep an eye on her and it’s not like we don’t get time to do adult things and-”

Alice stopped when Bucky laid a gentle metal finger over her lips and sighed.

“Alice, Becca ain’t goin’ anywhere, remember?” Bucky chastised, softly. “How about this, then, we go and see the rest of the family and we see how we feel, later? I doubt either of them will mind taking her at short notice.”

“Brrrr brrr brrrrr!!!” Becca burbled happily, leaning over to wave her little hand at Hunter, who raised his head so she could pet him.

“Okay, Bucky. Sorry.” Alice kissed him and smiled. “So, what should we dress our little girl in, today?”

Bucky lit up like a christmas tree, he loved picking out Becca’s clothes and playing with the small amount of soft chestnut curls on her head.

Alice giggled, feeling stupid for her panic and sublimely happy that she had what she had in her life, right now. What could possibly make it better?

***

The three of them “walked” from their apartment over the the bigger house shared by Steve, Evie, Sarah and Robert (Robby for short). “Walking” really meant, Alice and Bucky holding onto a hand of Becca’s each and swinging her up in the air in between them.

“Up Up!” Becca chanted, kicking her little legs.

“You wanna go up again, babygirl?” Bucky laughed.

“Up Dada!” Becca smiled a big gummy smile and Alice saw her man all but melt at his daughters glee.

“Okay Becca! One more for luck!” Bucky grinned at Alice who took the signal, “One, Two, Threeeeee!”

The last number stretched and they swung her into the air, much to Becca’s excited yells and giggles. As Becca reached the highest point, Alice moved around with her, so Becca faced Bucky, and swung her into Bucky’s waiting arms.

“There she is! Who’s my best girl, huh? Who makes me the happiest Dad in the world?”

“Dada! Kiss!” Their daughter giggled and started placing big wet kisses all over Bucky’s face.

Alice went to pull out her phone to get a picture, to capture the look of love and rapture on Bucky’s perfect face, to freeze the simple, glorious happy that was on Becca’s beautiful face, and, to have Hunter in the background, tongue lolling and dancing around the two of them, desperate to be included.

Unfortunately, her phone was back in the house.

“Ah, cra- uh… no!” Alice sputtered, indignantly, “I left my phone, dammit!”

Bucky raised an eyebrow at her almost slip of a swear word, they had made a promise to not swear or yell in front of Becca, apart from their worry she would pick up any negativity from any yelling, Becca was starting to copy words at an alarming rate.

Hence why Sam was now called “Bir” by Becca. Alice was fairly certain it was because Bucky continuously called him “birdman” and Becca had copied her father. It was pretty funny, not that Alice would admit that out loud, of course.

“You want me to go back and grab it, Alice? I think I wanna grab Becca’s jacket anyway, it’s warmer than I thought it would be.” Bucky fussed, looking at Becca as she smooshed his cheeks between her palms.

“She would be better with just a hat and we could keep her under the umbrella, she’ll overheat in a jacket.”

Alice was ignored, of course, Bucky nodded vaguely, all attention solely on Becca as he turned around and walked back to their apartment, Becca in his arms.

Alice’s two perfect, favourite people in the world.

“Ruff!”

“I love you too, Hunter. You’re my favourite son.” Alice patted Hunter’s head and they both made their way over to Steve and Evie’s. Once there, Alice made a short cursory knock against the back door and opened it without thinking, they always made their way over at this time of day, everyday.

Between four adults, three kids and two dogs, there was a lot of activity going on, even on a day when all four of them would be home.

Evie still worked, Bucky and Steve still helped the Avengers and Alice was still studying and working periodically with Colleen, as well as occasionally training new recruits for the Avengers.

So, usually, Bucky and Alice would come over with Becca at this time and they would organise logistics before they all needed to head out. Very rarely would there be a reason for Alice to wait to be let in.

This morning might’ve been one of them.

Hunter charged through the door, barking like mad and launched himself at the large bearded man who was stood next to Tony, like he was always going to be there this morning and Alice had just forgot.

“Simon?!”

“Surprise!” Alice jumped when Maggie came out of nowhere and threw her arms around Alice, “We got you! Hahaha!!!”

“Yeah, you did…” Alice murmured, glaring at the three devils stood next to Simon, “So, you three organised this, then?” After returning Maggie’s hug, Alice made her way over to Simon who didn’t hesitate to pull her into a bone crushing hug.

“Al, how’ve y’been? You okay?” Simon’s voice was gruff and he was looking at the twins, both sat in their high chairs, waiting to be fed.

“Yeah, honey, tell him all about how you feel dealing with other people’s kids!”

Alice looked around Simon in confusion at Tony, “What? What d’you mean? I love looking after them, obviously, but-”

“Listen, Al, I know it must be hard, when, y’know… you can’t and-” Simon rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, and Alice realised why Evie, Steve and Tony all looked like kids at a candy store, Simon didn’t realise yet that she had had her own baby.

Or that she had his name.

“-I got some news for you and- and I think that we should go and talk and-”

Alice nodded at Simon, trying to keep the smile off of her face, Bucky and Becca were about to walk in.

Simon’s words were interrupted when Bucky came through the door, talking in stage yells to Becca, who was sat on his shoulders and giggling.

“Where’s my girl? Where’d she go? Hey, Stevie! You seen Becca, pal?”

“Dada! Up Up!”

They walked in and everyone went silent.  

“Simon?! Maggie?! Where the hell did you come from?!” Bucky hissed, clearly as confused as Alice was.

“I thought you said they ‘ad twins, Stark?!” Simon spun to face Tony and then Evie and Steve who shrugged.

“Oh yeah, there were definitely only two that came out, Si, think I would remember a third.” Evie replied dryly.

“Hey! Ain’t no way this little beauty is anything but mine!” Bucky yelled indignantly, moving Becca from his shoulders to cradle in his left arm and walking over to stand next to Alice.

“Simon,” Alice walked over to him as he stood, stunned and staring at her daughter, “Meet mine and Bucky’s daughter, her name is Rebecca but everyone calls her Becca.”

“Becca Barnes…” Simon gulped, “She’s beautiful.”

Alice stepped away when Maggie came over and wrapped her arms around him, whispering something to him that made him blink and smile again. “I’m guessing it is Barnes, though? You ain’t gone all twenty first century and let her have Alice’s name?”

Bucky scowled and Alice smothered a giggle at the look on his face before taking Becca from him, “Becca, you want to meet aunt and uncle? Yeah?” Becca was eyeing the new people but she wasn’t scared, she was used to many people all around her.

Alice held her out to Simon, “Do you want to hold her?”

“Go on, I need to get a picture!” Maggie smiled as Simon gently took Becca who immediately thrust her fingers into his beard, making a “oooooo” sound as she did.

“Curious little lady, ain’t ya?” Simon said gruffly.

“Becca has a middle name, too.” Alice said quietly, tears threatening at the back of her eyes at the smile that lit up Becca’s face and the way Simon was slowly and carefully bouncing her in his arms.

Simon’s pale blue eyes lit up as they looked at Alice, “It ain’t Stephanie is it?” mock disgust laced his words and he tilted his head towards Steve, “Old Cap just had to get his name in there?”

Steve looked outraged and Tony started laughing, clapping him on the back.

“Anyway, what’s up with you, mate? What’s with that stupid lookin’ beard? Can you not grow a proper one?” Simon needled Steve, now ignoring Alice who rolled her eyes at Bucky.

“Babe, not everyone can grow a beard like you, it’s not fair you ask them to try.” Maggie giggled, holding her phone up and filming everything that was going on.

“It’s Simone.”

The room went quiet again and Simon slowly turned to Alice, flinching when Becca tugged on his beard, “What?”

“I said,” Alice said slowly and patiently, enjoying the look of wonder on his face, “Bucky got to pick her first name, so I got to pick her middle one. I wanted her to be named after her uncle.”

“An- and y-you chose… y’coulda picked Matt or-or- Stephanie, or-” Simon sank into the couch behind him, still holding Becca and looking like someone had clubbed him over the head.

Alice shrugged, suddenly uncomfortable with everyone staring, “I liked the name Simone. Plus… you were my brother first, even if you weren’t especially good at it.”

“SeeSee!”

Simon jumped slightly and looked at Becca who was now stood next to him on the couch he had collapsed on, holding onto his shoulder and smiling that huge smile she wore when she was happy, “SeeSee!”

“Becca likes you, pal. Y’got a name from her.” Bucky grinned at the way his daughter was tugging at Simon, trying to get his attention, “Up, SeeSee! Up!”

“Up?” Simon looked dazed, dragging his hand over his face, “Up where, darlin’?”

There was a pause and Becca picked up on the tension, her lower lip started trembling and she looked to her parents, “Mama? Dada?”

Alice rushed over and sat next to Simon, picking up Becca and sitting her in her lap, “It’s okay, darling. Simon will pick you up in a bit.”

Alice met Simon’s eyes and still saw the wary tension there as he looked at Becca, getting very frustrated very fast, Alice tilted her head and said in the sweetest voice she could manage, “Tell me what is bothering you or get out and stay out. I won’t have you upsetting her.”

“Alice… I need to talk to you.” Simon was quiet but his nerves seemed to clear, “Can we have some time alone?”

***

A short while later, Alice and Simon were out on the route her family used to run, walking Hunter and Howie and throwing balls to them.

Simon was trying to articulate what he was feeling. What the hell was causing him to act so strange to Alice… to her daughter. Her fucking child!

Taking a deep breath and lobbing the ball away from the barking dogs so they ran off and after it, Simon looked at Alice and spoke, “I’m sorry, Al. I’m a bit overwhelmed right now.”

Alice scoffed. For the last half hour she had caught him up on everything, what she had felt when she had found out she was pregnant, how scared she had been, how she had since had more tests since Becca had been born and they showed the same thing as before.

Alice’s body killed anything that entered it to “protect” her.

And yet… Becca was here.

Apparently, Gail had also had a baby, a son. Simon scowled when he realised that that was the “event” that Tony had been going on about. Gail and T'Challa's son was having a Wakandan equivalent of a Christening (not that Simon was stupid enough to say those words to the Wakandans).

Simon had no idea what was going on.

“Simon…” Alice started, biting her lip as she paused, clearly thinking about how to say what she wanted to, “I know you had no idea what had happened, you were hoping to give me some good news, but-”

“Alice I ain’t fuckin’ mad because you had a baby before I could tell you it was possible, for fucks sake.”

“Well, what’s your problem then?”

“You’re the first Slayer to have a kid.” Simon looked at Alice, gauging her reaction to that, “I mean, I’ve checked and I think Slayers have had children before, but, for the most part, that was when girls getting married at 13 was a normal thing.” Simon said with distaste. “Any child a Slayer had was attributed to her having it before being Called.”

“So?” Alice knelt and rubbed Hunters head as he bounded up, taking time to do the same for Howie.

“So.” Simon placed his hand on her shoulder to get her attention back, “I’m worried. These Slayers back home? I can keep an eye on them. I don’t know what this means, if it’s going to be a good thing or not, but, back home, I’m in control.”

Simon paused, feeling fear crawl through his blood as he thought of something happening to the little teal eyed girl who had his name.

“I can’t do jack shit to help you, to help Becca and what if-”

Simon’s words were cut off when Alice tutted and shoved him so he fell back on his arse.

“Oi!”

“Oh, shut up, Simon.” Alice grinned as she got up, “Listen, apart from the fact that Becca’s father is the scariest and deadliest man on the planet, and that’s without someone threatening me or his daughter, we are both surrounded by superheroes at all times. There is never a moment when we aren’t being monitored in some way.”

“You’re okay with that?” Simon asked, incredulous.

Alice shrugged, “It’s amazing what you’ll get used to when you have a child to think about. Look,” a huff of breath and Alice threw the ball again, sending it much further than Simon had been able to, “I don’t know any better than you what having Becca means for me or Gail or the Slayers back home. All I can tell you for certain is how it makes me feel.”

Simon cocked his head, wondering what the hell she meant, “What? You getting all sappy on me, Al?”

A narrowed eyed glare, then, “Before, even after stopping the Council, not going out and hunting, patrolling every night, it was hard, you know? The pulse to go out, to stop evil, it never went away, I had all this energy and I wasn’t using it in the way it was intended to be used.” Alice smirked, “Why do you think Bucky and I ended up trashing so many beds?”

“That’s fucking rank, Al.” Simon shuddered and ignored her laugh.

“I got pregnant though and… it stopped. Being pregnant was the scariest thing in the world but it absolutely stopped all my Slayer instincts, I was still strong but my sense of self preservation actually overrode the Slayer instincts.”

Simon scuffed at the grass, he had been around Slayers his whole life, he could only imagine what that must’ve felt like for her.

A few months of peace.

“When Becca was born, though…” Alice paused, again, she seemed to weigh her words for a few moments before talking again, “Evie made some comment about six weeks after Becca was born, that I had got my figure back so quickly and she hoped she could do that too.”

“Well, your metabolism and everything-”

“It wasn’t my metabolism.” Alice dryly interrupted him. “Evie and Steve didn’t realise, but, a few times after midnight feedings, I was going to the gym and going crazy in there, attacking every machine and punching bag until Bucky would, forcefully, drag me away.”

“Those instincts came crashing back?” Simon asked quietly, assuming that the instinct would be stronger now she was a mum. Alice, however, surprised him.

“Not quite. See, before, my instinct was to save the world, sacrifice myself if needed. The only thing that came close to overriding it was Bucky and even then…”

Alice trailed off, thrusting her hands in her jeans pockets and looked awkward. Simon threw the ball, letting her get her bearings.

The Council had pulled her away from Bucky because, at that point, she had still been far too much a Slayer to stay. The same had happened in Wakanda. It didn’t matter what had happened since, Alice was never going to let herself be free of that guilt.

“So, what’s different now?” Simon prodded. He didn’t like seeing her so down.

“Now? Well, my instinct is one hundred percent to protect Becca, and by extension, Bucky and, now, the twins.”

Alice turned to look Simon dead in the eye, her gaze stopped him completely.

“If the world was ending and I had the choice, save everyone on the planet or save my daughter, the man I love? The world could burn as long as they were safe. That’s what will change for The Slayers, that’s the only danger. You might still have active Slayers but the balance will get out of whack because they won’t want to do the job anymore. It could put their lives in jeopardy and that will matter now.”

“Hmmmm…” Simon let her words mull over in his head for a bit. “Well, that could be a good thing.”

“Oh yeah? How?” Alice smiled and turned, heading back towards the house.

“Well, if Slayers are getting pregnant and they don’t feel the need to be Slayers anymore? Maybe that’s because there ain’t a reason to be Slayers anymore. Maybe… maybe we’re beating it back. Finally.”

Alice didn’t answer but the expression on her face said it all. When something seemed too good to be true? It usually was because it was.

“Come on, enough talk,” Alice picked up her pace, “I want to get back and you need to play with your niece.”

***

Later that day.

“Up! Up!”

“Up y’go, sugar plum!” Simon yelled and, quite literally, threw Becca in the air, catching her on the way back down and making an “ooomph” noise. “You gettin’ heavier or what, little lady?”

“Big Becca!”

Simon grinned at her as Becca puffed out her chubby little cheeks and made a “pfffft” noise at him.

“Dada!” Simon turned and laughed at the look Bucky was giving him as he held his arms out for his daughter, “Yeah, that’s enough of being thrown around like a rag doll for you, babygirl.”

“Bye, SeeSee!” Simon handed her over and his heart melted a little at the identical look of contentment that spread across her and Bucky’s faces.

“Bye, Angel.”

Simon watched for a moment as Bucky walked his daughter back into the bIg house to have a nap with her cousins. Pulling out his phone, he swiped through and looked at the pictures he had of his niece, on her own, with him, with Alice and Bucky.

With Maggie.

Simon realised he hadn’t seen his girlfriend in a while and, abruptly, he got worried and then he got scared. The irrational fear of something happening to her came randomly and when it did, watch out.

Except, Maggie never got scared, never got angry or even irritated. Maggie, the little minx, used it to her advantage and wound him up continuously so, more often than not, she ended up slung over his shoulder and walked to the nearest private area.

Simon made his way to the house, passing Bucky and Steve who were with the kids. Pausing to ask if they knew where Maggie was, Simon stopped when he could hear her infectious laugh from the big room.

“Oh, my God! But could you imagine it though?! All three of them?! Damn…”

Simon frowned, what the fuck was she chatting about now? He turned to look at the other two men who shrugged.

“Maggie, that’s… that’s just revolting.” Alice sounded faintly nauseous.

“Yeah.” Evie, now. “I ain’t got no complaints and, anyway, I’m related to Bucky for fucks sake. This isn’t Game of Thrones, woman.”

“Yeah, but they’re so hot! And you know you would love a chance at Simon, Evie!”

“No. No. No! What is the matter with you?!” Alice yelled, Simon couldn’t work out if she was amused or not. “I would never, not ever sleep with two men who are basically my brothers! And if you even try and lay a hand on Bucky-”

“What the fuck…” Simon was livid, he knew exactly what Maggie was doing. Bucky and Steve looked appalled so Simon rolled his eyes at them, “Don’t get your fuckin’ knickers in a twist. Maggie wants some attention, is all, you get me?”

“Uhhh…” Steve shuffled awkwardly, “Maybe you should give it to her then, pal. Evie sounds like she might kill her.”

Simon did a double take as he heard crashing and ran through to the room, bodily picking up Maggie as she scrambled away from Evie who, quite frankly, looked fucking terrifying.

Alice held Evie back and calmed her down whilst Simon spun Maggie around in his arms so she faced him, “Y’alright there, babe?”

“Hi Simon! I missed you!”

Simon raised an eyebrow, “Uh huh. Right, Steve? Where’s our room, then?”

“Umm, upstairs and it’s the smaller blue room and-”

Ignoring him, Simon slung Maggie on his shoulder and stalked off.

“Oi, before we go, maybe I can babysit? Let the women have a night out and I can help look after the kids?”

“Yeah! Great idea, babe!” Maggie yelled gleefully.

“W-well.. I don’t know…” Alice looked nervous but Bucky pulled her to his side and kissed her, shutting her up.

“Yeah, great idea, Simon. It’s good to have you back.”

“Great to be back, mate.” Simon huffed as he started carting his giggling girlfriend up the stairs, laughing when he could hear Alice mock gag.

“Yuck! Gross! Bucky! Get Becca! I am not  having her here whilst they are doing that!”

“What about us?!” Evie yelled, “We have to live here!”

“Well, that’s what you get for not telling me things!”

Maggie slapped his arse, urging him to hurry up, “Catch y’all later! We’re gonna have so much fun, girls!”

“Y’gotta get through this afternoon first, Mags.” Simon promised, grinning to himself as she started sputtering with laughter.

All in all, this had been a good day.

Later that night

“I can’t remember the last time I had a girl’s night,” Evie exclaimed as she, Maggie and Alice were in the middle row of Alice’s Tahoe. Simon was in the driver’s seat, as he had offered to drive them to the bar. Bucky and Steve were in Evie’s Suburban with the kids and dogs, headed for the Tower. “Wait, yeah I do. It was my bachelorette party, before I got married.” She frowned, as it had been almost two years since then.

“Aah, don’t worry Evie,” Maggie consoled, patting her back. “You’ll have plenty of fun tonight. Oh! Let’s make this a tradition. Every time Simon and I visit, we have a ladies night while the guys watch the kids!” Alice and Evie looked at each other and grinned.

“Cheers to that, Mags!” Alice cried as she and Evie hugged her tightly, as she had become a third sister.

“Oi! Dontcha think you outta talk to us guys about that first?!” Simon asked from the front seat. Evie rolled her eyes and blew a raspberry.

“Well, seeing as how Alice and I are the mothers of their children, and that I almost died giving birth, they won’t say no to us having a night off every so often,” she explained oh so smugly. Simon scoffed before she added on “That’s also more time you get to hang out with your niece, so I doubt you’d be opposed to it either.” He looked at the three women over his shoulder, a huge smile on his face. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. That little girl’s already got you wrapped around her fingers and you literally just met her.” He shook his head, but it was pointless to deny it. He would do anything for her. In fact, Simon just spotted something he could do for her right now.

“Pit stop ladies.” Simon parked the Tahoe and got out, opening the door for them so they could follow him into the…

“Tattoo parlour?” Evie moaned, biting her lip. She wishes Steve would get one, but the serum would reject the ink, so he can’t.

“Yeah, I wanna get something done real quick,” Simon said as he walked to the counter. The girls went all around looking at all the designs on the walls before Simon followed the tattoo artist into a back room.

“Wonder what he’s getting done?” Alice asked to no one in particular. Maggie and Evie shrugged before resuming their perusal of the artwork. After 15 minutes, Simon came out, grinning like mad as he held his upper arm.

“Girls wanna see?” he inquired as he pulled his phone out. They gathered around and looked at the picture on his phone, a collective ‘AWWW’ sounding from them.

“Simon, that is adorable. Send that to Bucky,” Alice gushed, wiping a tear from her eye. Evie was silent, a thoughtful expression coming over her as she began to look off into space. Maggie threw her arms around him, kissing him ferociously.

“That is the sexiest thing ever!” They kissed more graphically this time as Alice began to make gagging noises. “Alright, let’s head out before Her Majesty has our heads.” They all laughed as they filed out and got back in the car.

“Alright m’ladies. Have fun, and call me when you wanna come home.” Simon said a few minutes later as he parked in front of the bar. Maggie kissed him goodbye as Evie and Alice waved.

“Thanks Si! Let us know if the bab-” Evie started to reply before Maggie slapped her hand over the doctor’s mouth.

“Take care of those babies for them!” She hollered as he drove off with a smile. She turned back to the two women and shrugged. “What? I know its hard, but don’t worry about them. Your kids are in Avenger Tower, guarded by Black Widow, Ant Man, Vision, Scarlet Witch, Falcon, Iron Man, Thor, War Machine, Simon, not to mention their fathers Captain America and the Winter Soldier. They are perfectly safe. You need to relax.” Evie and Alice looked at each other uneasily before following her inside. “Come on. Let’s get you drunk!”

And drunk they became.

After a few hours, Evie and Alice had quite the buzz going on. Maggie had a higher tolerance to alcohol, so she wasn’t nearly as drunk. The night was going great, no word from the guys so the babies were doing fine without their mommies. Evie and Alice were having the time of their lives, until it came to a crashing halt.

“Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in,” a snotty voice spoke from behind Evie. All three women looked up, Evie and Alice baring their teeth. It was the two women from the bowling alley. The same two skanks that had openly flirted with and laid hands on Steve and Bucky. Maggie could cut the tension with a knife.

“Yeah, you. Still as trashy as ever,” Evie snapped. The redhead bent down, getting in her face.

“You trying to drown your sorrows after Captain America dumped your ass?” she mocked as the blonde laughed coldly at this, which made Evie grin.

“No, bitch. He married me and knocked me up with his children,” she shot back, holding her left hand up to show off her impressive wedding rings, her grin getting wider by the second. The redhead’s face flushed as she huffed out a breath.

“Don’t even think about starting shit with me, but I will tell you that me and Bucky had the best sex ever this morning, and I’m not giving that up without a fight,” Alice piped up then, smirking as well. The blonde looked at them both with disdain before smiling her own nasty smile.

“Well, it looks like you’re past your prime then. Maybe we should pay your men a visit, ‘cause I’m sure they wouldn’t mind trading in their outdated models for younger, better ones.” Alice and Evie looked at each other before looking to Maggie, who shrugged as she cracked her knuckles and popped her back, limbering up.

“I think you two need to leave,” Evie pointed out as she, Alice and Maggie stood, outnumbering the whores. The redhead laughed as she got back in her face.

“I’ll leave when I can go home and fuck Captain America. ‘Cause after I’m done with him, your kids will call me ‘mommy’.” Evie’s mind went blank for a split second before an undeniable rage filled her as she lunged for the redhead, tackling her to the ground. They began to wrestle, Evie clearly having the upper hand and was beating the shit outta the redhead. The blonde, realizing this, went to grab ahold of Evie, her long hair the target, but Alice was not having that. She launched herself across the table, colliding with the blonde and pinning her down, keeping her away from Evie.

“Get her, Evie! Show that bitch who’s boss!” she cried, encouraging her sister. The blonde tried to get up and help her friend, but Alice shifted and got her to lie still. “You ain’t going anywhere, whore.”

Maggie sat back through all of this, watching and waiting in case she needed to lend a hand. The other patrons in the bar were giving the women space, not wanting to get involved, but also loving the spectator sport that was going down in front of them.

After what seemed to be an eternity, security guards came and broke the four women apart, hauling them outside and banning them from the bar.

The two skanks, realizing that they were outnumbered, turned and slunk away as Evie, Alice and Maggie grinned.

“Yeah, that's right. Run away with your tails tucked firmly between your legs!” Evie yelled after them, sporting a bloody lip. Alice didn't have any visible injuries, but the other two looked so much worse.

“Okay, so we definitely need some food,” Maggie exclaimed as the three of them turned and walked down the sidewalk, pulling out her phone and typing in her search engine. “Oh! There’s a place that’s open right now over in Jersey. I’ll call a Lyft and we can go!” She turned back to Evie and Alice, who were standing completely still, their faces white. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, we can’t go to Jersey,” Evie answered.

“Why not?” Maggie was confused. What could possibly keep them from going?

“Because the last time we ended up in Jersey, Steve and Bucky got so incredibly mad at us. They thought we were going to leave them,” Alice explained, choking up a bit at the end. Evie nodded.

“Yeah, and I promised Steve on our honeymoon that I’d never step foot in Jersey again as long as he…” she trailed off, looking scared out of her mind.

“Point is, we’re not going to Jersey. End of story,” Alice stated matter-of-factly. Maggie shrugged.

“Okay, whatever. I still cannot believe Simon got that tattoo of Becca’s initials earlier. It was so sweet and sexy. I love that man,” she gushed. Alice nodded in agreement, knocking Evie’s shoulder with hers.

“E, what’s up?” she asked. Evie looked up, having been lost in thought.

“I wanna get a tattoo. Seeing Simon get his earlier has had me thinking about it. I’ve had an idea for a while anyway, but now, I think I’m gonna get it.” Alice and Maggie stopped and stared at her before Maggie broke into a grin.

“I’ve been wanting one too. Let’s go!” The girls began running down the street, Maggie in the lead. She stopped outside the same shop Simon had taken them to, the other two women colliding with her. They all giggled like mad before composing themselves and walking in. Evie and Maggie headed to the same artist that Simon had used, while Alice hung back. She wasn’t keen on voluntarily being stabbed with needles over and over, so she was there for emotional support. The artist called over a buddy, so they could work on the girls at the same time instead of making them wait on each other. The guy helping Evie was answering all her questions, drawing up what she was explaining to him. He walked in the back for a few minutes before coming back with a piece of paper, which Alice assumed had the design that Evie wanted after he had drawn it. She looked it over before nodding. He went back in the room as Evie came over to Alice.

“You gonna hold my hand?” she asked shyly, to which Alice nodded.

“Of course. What are you getting?” Evie smirked at her.

“You’ll have to wait and see.” The artist came back and motioned for Evie to follow him, so the two women did. He motioned for Evie to get on the table and to get comfy as this would take a while. She pulled off her outer shirt so the artist could put the tattoo right where she wanted it. After he placed the stencil and she approved of its placement, he had her lie on her belly so it would be easier for him to work.

Maggie and her artist were at another station as she got ready for her own tattoo. Funnily enough, she chose the same spot to get her tattoo that Evie had. This caused the two of them to shout ‘Twinsies!’ before promptly dissolving into another fit of giggles.

The artists started their machines and the room was filled with the buzz of tattoo guns, cutting their laughter off. Evie semi-moaned as she understood why Simon had so many tattoos. The rush that came with the bite of the needles was exhilarating and addicting, and she knew she would be getting more after this. There were a few spots that had Evie gritting her teeth in pain, but for the most part, it wasn’t as bad as she thought it would be.

Finally, after an hour and a half, both girls were done. They got off the tables and went to the full length mirrors so they could see their new ink. Alice and Evie fawned over how pretty Maggie’s was, which made her feel incredibly smug. When they went to inspect Evie’s tattoo, Alice became confused.

“I don’t understand. Why can’t I re...oh. Now I get it. You got the dates done the American way. Damn Yanks and their backwards dates,” she scoffed. Evie looked at her over her shoulder, grinning.

“Oh, go cry to the Queen about it. Damn Brits,” she shot back. Alice quirked her eyebrow and opened her mouth to retort, but Evie beat her to it. “In case you’ve forgotten, you’re in a relationship with an American. Your daughter is American, hell everyone you live with is American, so get over it.” Evie laughed at the shocked look on her sister’s face before turning and engulfing her in a hug. “Don’t worry, you’re my favorite Englishwoman. The last one I met, well…” she trailed off as the two realized who she meant. “I didn’t like her, but I’ve got something she don’t so neiner neiner.” They shared a laugh before pulling apart and heading to the front to pay for the tattoos.

Once they were done, Maggie suggested that they needed to celebrate with more alcohol, so they walked down the sidewalk to the closest one, and proceeded to get hammered, but not by Thor.

BACK AT THE TOWER

Simon loved babysitting. He loved it because he got to spend all the time he wanted with Becca, but the moment she got crabby, he could hand her off to Bucky and not have to worry about it. He also got to spend time getting to know Robby and Sarah, and he could see the divide in each kid.

Robby was the quieter one of the two, but don’t let that fool you. He was already so protective over his little sister, smacking Becca on more than one occasion when she tried to take a toy from Sarah. He was Evie’s clone, and with his semi-cleft chin that he obviously inherited from Bucky (Simon still couldn’t believe that he and Evie were related), he was going to be a looker when he got older.

Sarah was quite the little beauty already. Becca was beautiful too, as she was a mix of Alice and Bucky, but Sarah, with her blonde hair and big blue eyes she got from her daddy, was sure to break the hearts of many a boy, assuming Robby didn’t break their faces first.

How the hell did these four already decent looking people manage to have the three most beautiful children in the universe? Kinda unfair to be honest.

MEANWHILE,

“I need food!” Evie whined as she, Alice and Maggie stumbled out of the bar. They had shut it down, but now had nowhere to get anything to eat.

“Oh! How about we take a Lyft to the closest supermarket and we can get whatever we want?!” Maggie suggested, half shouting even though the other two were right next to her. “We can have Simon come pick us up there too!”

“YES!” screamed Alice and Evie as the thought of food was all they had on their mind. Maggie got on her phone and requested the Lyft and when it arrived, they all piled in, eagerly awaiting snack time. They spent the 45 minute drive talking about all of the food they wanted to get, Alice complaining that they didn’t have many English snacks here in the States.

Finally, they had arrived. They got out and paid the driver before walking into the store. The three of them stood there for a moment, looking around at everything.

“There’s so much stuff in here. You can get lost,” Evie suggested, before running off. “Not it!” she yelled over her shoulder. Maggie and Alice looked at each other and grinned.

“Not it!” Alice shouted before running after her sister. Maggie laughed before pulling her phone out and calling Simon.

Simon smiled as Maggie’s face lit up on the screen as he stood and walked into the kitchen before answering.

“Hey babe. I need you to come get us. We’re at a supermarket and I just lost Evie and Alice.”

“Supermarket? You’re supposed to be at a bar!”

“I know, but the bar closed down. Well, the second one did. The first one kicked us out.”

“Kicked you out? Of fuckin’ course. You lot are okay though, right? How do I get there?”

“Yeah we’re fine. I’ll just send you the address. Bring Bucky and Steve, ‘cause I don’t think we’ll be able to corral these two with as drunk as they are. See ya in a bit.”

She hung up and put the phone back in her purse before slowly making her way through the store, grinning evilly at the chaos she was creating.

Bucky watched the man walk away, smiling to himself. Bucky was glad that Alice had Simon, even if he did want to strangle him sometimes.

Steve was next to him on the couch, watching the kids all play together. His heart was full, knowing that he had the family he always wanted and Bucky by his side with his own family.

Sam walked in then, Matt behind him. Bucky was surprised to see the lawyer here, but he figured that Alice could do with another surprise.

“There’s my Becca!” Sam exclaimed as he swooped down to pick her up.

“Bir!” she squealed as he lifted her into his arms, causing him to frown.

“Bir? As in ‘Bir’d-man? Man come on! That ain’t fair!” he groaned, while Bucky, Steve and Matt laughed.

“Well, what do you expect? She repeats what she hears,” Bucky replied as Simon walked back into the room.

“Hey, uh, that was Maggie. She and the girls are at some food place and they need us to come get them,” he explained, sliding his phone back in his pocket and grabbing Alice’s keys.

“Food?” Bucky exclaimed, jumping to his feet. “How the hell did they end up there? They’re supposed to be at a bar! They have food!” He began to follow Simon to the elevator when he noticed Steve hadn’t moved. “Steve come on!” he urged his brother, who made no attempt at moving.

“What do we do about the kids? The girls will be pissed that they aren’t asleep,” he pointed out.

“Matt and I will watch them. Go get your women,” Sam offered. Matt froze for a second before recovering.

“Sure, what harm can an honorary uncle and a blind honorary uncle do?” he mused.

“Thanks guys,” Steve said. “We’ll be back as soon as we can.” He got in the elevator with Simon and Bucky and descended to the garage, loading up in the Tahoe and peeling out onto the street.

IN THE SUPERMARKET

Evie and Alice had ran off to the vegetable aisle where Evie grabbed a cucumber and began waving it around like it was a certain...appendage, poking Maggie and Alice with it. Evie stroked it seductively before she grabbed a can of whipped cream and sprayed it all over Alice, yelling ‘Yeah, you like that white stuff, don’t you?!’. Blushing furiously, Alice ran and grabbed a baguette loaf and cracked her sister over the head with it, laughing like a mad woman. Maggie and Evie froze before grabbing their own loaves and the three women began to duel before Evie’s broke.

“Aww man,” she lamented before looking around. “Do they sell Viagra here?” she asked loudly, causing Alice and Maggie to burst into giggles. “Let’s play Marco Polo!” She ran off again, cackling. The other two ran off as well, the three of them shouting ‘Marco’ and ‘Polo’ as they tried to find each other.

IN ALICE’S TAHOE

Simon was following the directions on his phone, glad that Maggie had thought to send him the address so he could get to them quicker. After about 20 minutes, Steve and Bucky perked up, as Simon was taking the ramp for the Lincoln Tunnel.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Why the fuck are we headed to Jersey?” Bucky shouted, looking back at Steve. “Alice and Evie know better than to even think about stepping foot over the state line again.” Steve nodded vigorously in his agreement.

“What the fuck is wrong with Jersey? The girls wanted food and the only supermarket that’s open this late is Walmart. New York doesn’t have any, so this one’s closest,” Simon snapped. Steve snorted.

“Looks like Evie went back on her word,” he said, a dark edge to his voice.

“So did Alice,” Bucky agreed. The rest of the ride was in silence as Steve and Bucky contemplated what kind of punishment to dole out to their women.

Finally, the men arrived at Walmart, getting out and, in Bucky and Steve’s case, stalking inside.

As Alice rounded a corner in the toy department, Evie jumped out, yelling “POLO!” as she shot Alice with a Nerf gun. Alice leapt back, trying to dodge the foam bullets.

“What the fuck is going on here?!” Bucky shouted as he, Steve and Simon walked up. Evie, clearly startled, turned and shot at him, a few of the bullets sticking to his metal arm. “Oh, you did not just shoot me!” He began to chase her, all while she screamed. Alice walked up to Simon and Steve, shaking her head. She stuck her foot out as they went by, tripping Bucky and allowing Evie to get further away from him. “Alice, what the hell? You’re supposed to be on my side!” When all she did was smirk, he rolled his eyes before taking off after his sister/niece.

“Juveniles,” was all she could manage before dissolving into laughter. Steve couldn’t help but laugh as well, as he hadn’t seen Bucky this playful since before the War. The two of them played for a bit longer, before Bucky had gotten the drop on Evie and had put her in a (very gentle) headlock and marched her back to the others.

“Hi baby,” Evie slurred as she spotted her husband. “Whatcha doin’?” Steve glared down at her, shaking his head.

“Oh, I’m just trying to figure out how to punish you for coming back here.” At this, Evie stopped struggling with Bucky.

“We’ve never been here before,” she argued to which he nodded.

“You’ve been in Jersey before, E. You and Alice made us chase you here, remember?” Evie and Alice looked at each other, fear plain as day on their faces.

“No. There’s no way we’re in Jersey. We told Maggie we couldn’t come back here,” she whimpered as Alice nodded vigorously in agreement. Maggie grabbed her phone and pulled up the map, showing their location.

“Yeah, we are in Jersey. We wanted food but nowhere is open this late except Walmart, and as there isn’t one on the island on Manhattan, this was the closest,” she explained. Evie started to visibly shake as Bucky released her.

“Bucky, I swear we wouldn’t have come here if we had known,” Alice pleaded as Bucky stood in front of her.

“Steve, I think they’re telling the truth. You can see how scared she is,” he pointed out as Evie walked up to Steve and grabbed his shirt.

“You’re not gonna drown me, are you?” she squeaked, thoroughly cracking Steve’s ‘tough guy’ demeanor.

“No. Of course not, baby,” he crooned, pulling her in for a hug. “It’s not your fault,” he growled over her head in Maggie’s direction. She was preoccupied though, as she was clumsily trying to undo the buttons on Simon’s shirt.

“Oooooh s’hot in herrr,” she slurred, tugging at it.

“Yeah, but we’re in a supermarket for fuck’s sake,” he grumbled, even though he thought she was so cute like this, but it’d be a snowy day in Hell before he admitted that out loud.

Alice was loudly whispering (read: shouting) to Bucky about how boring Steve is. “I’ve been saying it since forever Bucky! He’s always such a stick in the mud. Look!” They all looked over as Evie was slowly running her hands over Steve’s pecs, slightly squeezing them before teasing his nipples, his face getting stonier and stonier as she went on.

“I never saw before now though! I’ll never doubt you again!” he agreed as Evie continued, but when her actions failed to elicit a response from him, she stomped her foot and ‘hrumpf’ed.

“Alice is right. You are Sad Face Steve. Hopefully neither of the kids end up like that!” she spat, to which his jaw dropped. The other four laughed at him before he made a face at them.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Well, someone has to be the adult around here. Come on, let’s go get you girls some food so we can get out of this god forsaken state.” He grabbed Evie’s hand and began to guide her away from the toys.

“SNACKS!” Maggie cried, followed by Evie, Bucky, and Alice.

“SNACKS!”

“SNACKS!”

“SNAAAAAACKSSSS!”

Simon zoomed by, Maggie on his back. “Snack!” Steve let go of Evie as she chased Bucky and Alice, who were running hand in hand.

“Not you too!” Steve lamented. Simon stopped and turned to him.

“Eh, I’m hungry. Let’s just get on with it.” With that, he turned back around and took off after the others, leaving Steve to sigh and hang his head.

Once Steve got to the front, he saw Bucky, Alice, Evie, Maggie and Simon standing in a checkout lane, having all of their snacks scanned. As he got closer, Bucky made eye contact with him and stage whispered “RUN!” before grabbing Alice’s hand and dragging her outside.

“My Pringles! NO!” she cried as they slipped from her hands. Steve made it to the register, an awkward silence in the air.

“Why me?” he asked aloud at the ceiling before picking up the Pringles and pulling his wallet out to pay for everything. He stomped outside, making a beeline for the Tahoe. He could see Simon and Maggie in the front seats, while Bucky and Alice were hanging out the windows from the middle.

“YAY! My Pringles!” Alice cheered as he handed them to her. “You’re the best brother in law ever!” He smiled, looking around for Evie. “She’s in the back, waiting for you. Just don’t defile the seats, okay?” she instructed as she opened the door so he could climb in the back seat.

“Well Alice, no one sits back here but us anyway, so how do you know we already haven’t?” Evie taunted with a wink. Alice stared in shock before shuddering. “I’m just joking Alice….or am I?” Bucky tried his best to not laugh at the distraught look on Alice’s face, but ultimately lost as he burst into laughter.

“Alice, it’s okay. We’ll make them detail the whole car, just to be on the safe side,” he assured her as Simon pulled out of the parking lot and headed back to the Tower. Steve and Bucky were back to being tense as their need to get out of Jersey overrode all other feelings, visibly relaxing once they re-emerged on the New York side of the Lincoln Tunnel. Simon parked in the garage and the six of them got in the elevator, heading up to the residential floors. Evie, who was standing between Steve and Simon, looked over and poked the latter’s tattoos, giggling.

“I’ve got one too,” she said quietly, or so she thought. Steve turned her to him, disbelief clear on his face.

“What the hell? You got a tattoo!” he all but yelled. She nodded proudly as everyone turned to her.

“I sure did. I’ll show you, but I have to take my shirt off first.” She grabbed the hem of her shirt and began to pull it up, oblivious to Steve’s fury as he glared at Simon and Bucky, daring them to watch his wife strip as he stood in front of her. “Steve, I have an undershirt under my shirt, ya know!” He sighed, rolling his eyes.

“That’s not the point Evie! You don’t need to be stripping in front of other men!” he cried as she finished taking her shirt off.

“Oh, but it’s perfectly fine for you to strut around the pool in just your swim trunks in front of other women though?” she shot back at him, making his jaw drop in shock. “I’m not stripping. I’m just taking off a shirt that I’m going to put right back on after I show off my tattoo.” Evie turned her back to Simon. “Hey Si, can you take the bandage off?” He nodded before slowly pulling it aside so the others could see it.

“That one’s my birthday,” Bucky pointed out. “No wait, that’s Becca’s birthday.” Evie grinned at him over her shoulder, while everyone else apart from Alice continued to study the ink.

“Y’all look lost, so I’ll explain them. 12.16.2019 - the day Bruce and I became family. 10.17.2020 - the day Steve and I got married. 11.18.2020 - the day we all became family. 3.10.2021 - Becca’s birthdate. 1.25.2022 - Robby and Sarah’s birthdate.” Steve grinned before kissing her deeply.

“I love it baby,” he cooed, kissing her again.

“Yay! I’m glad. Maggie got one too, and I’ll give you three guesses as to who didn’t,” she teased, looking over at Alice. Simon turned to his lady, a huge grin on his face.

“You got one too?! Let me see then!” Maggie smiled with glee as she too took off her shirt, letting Simon pull the bandage away so she could show off her tattoo.

“It’s beautiful babe. Well done.” He kissed her sweetly, knowing he would congratulate her properly later.

“Wait! I have to show you the other one I got!” Evie exclaimed then, to which she pulled the waistband of her pants down to just above her bikini line, but there was nothing to see. “Damn! There was a mouse there. Oh well, I guess my pussy ate it,” she replied, shrugging. She looked up at Steve, who had his eyes shut while he clenched his jaw. Bucky began to cackle at her joke, which caused her to start laughing, while Alice blushed. Maggie joined in on the laughter after a while, and all Simon did was snort.

“Fuckin’ Yanks.” The elevator dinged just then, opening up at the common room. They all filed out before Evie and Alice stopped dead in their tracks at the sight in front of them.

Sam had a sleeping Becca in his arms while Matt was slowly swaying Sarah and Robby in his. Normally, this wouldn’t bother the mothers, but seeing as how all three children were in some sort of sleep regression that even their own parents couldn’t solve, for Evie and Alice to see their babies asleep in Sam and Matt’s arms…..

It tanned their hides.

Bucky and Steve made to grab their kids, noting the fury on their women’s faces. Sam and Matt pulled them away at the last minute, Sam placing his finger over his lips in the ‘shhh’ signal.

“You got them asleep?” Bucky cried softly, as to not wake them. Sam nodded.

“What, like its hard?” he replied, a smirk spreading across his face. “Why don’t you guys go get some sleep? I promise they’re in good hands.” Steve and Bucky looked back at their girls, wanting to grab them, but also afraid to make any sudden movements lest they flip out.

Simon, noting this, walked up and pushed Alice toward Bucky, before turning to Evie. “Sorry ‘bout this love,” he murmured before slapping his hand over her tattoo. She arched away from him, landing in Steve’s arms. “You’ve gotta set the tattoo. Sorry.” Before Maggie even had a chance to defend herself, he slapped hers as well, letting her slap his in retaliation. “Let’s get them in bed. It’s been a long night.” Steve and Bucky nodded before leading Evie and Alice to their old rooms, noting that Hunter and Howie were fast asleep in Hunter’s old room. Steve steered Evie to his, letting Sam and Matt use Evie’s old room for the kids. Once he had tucked her in, he walked out and met Bucky, who had just done the same to Alice.

“Gonna check on the kids before turning in,” he explained as they fell into step walking down the hallway.

“Yeah, me too.” Steve opened the door and stepped in, followed by Bucky. What they saw in the bed was enough to melt Captain America and the Winter Soldier’s hearts tenfold.

Robby and Sarah were asleep, side by side and holding hands, while Becca was on Sarah’s other side, her arm stretched protectively around her cousins.

Bucky and Steve grinned at each other, beyond ecstatic to see their kids love each other so much, even in their sleep.

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