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liitlesunshiine · 3 years

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High on the clock

Quirkless AU - Toya Todoroki

Warnings: cursing, drug use, anxiety, panic attack mention, suggestive themes, slight sexual themes

A fun light hearted fic. Definitely enjoyed writing this piece so I hope you guys enjoy reading it. ^.^ It’s flirty n cute n Toya is a total bae. <3

You and Toya are coworkers who try making the most out of your shitty job.

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“Goddd this place fuckin blows.” You groaned in frustration sitting across Toya.

“As if I didn’t know that already,” he sleeplishly replied.

You never intended on working in this shit show of a store for as long as you have but yet, here you were two wasted years later. You had high hopes after graduation but it seems no job wants to hire someone with no experience and you can’t get any experience since you can’t get an actual job that’ll provide it. So it’s forced you in this sort of awkward limbo and vicious cycle of going back and forth. You’ve been stuck wearing this shitty bright uniform with a barely livable wage and terrible hours. Miserable every second of the day, with the constant guilt eating at you for being so complacent.

Of course there were a few exceptions.

Of course… Like the highly attractive coworker you spent most of your time here with. Days spent with Toya were significantly better than the days spent without Toya. In fact, if it weren’t for him, you’d probably wouldn’t have lasted as long as you had here. Because man, when days were good they were ok, but when the days were bad, they were really fucking bad. Some in which you were ready to burn down everyone and everything yet the sweet, hot, god-like Toya would make you melt with his cute quirky smile and meet your eyes with his own that you would absolutely drown in and next thing you know, you had completely forgotten about what you were upset over. Now, it’s just a bonus that he meets your sarcasm with his own, the both of you have always had this flirty like atmosphere that neither of you are willing to acknowledge but low key kinda know there’s an underlying sexual tension there. It was strange how well you both got along, the average onlooker would assume nothing more than a simple boyfriend and girlfriend relationship but it was really just mutual likability and connection between the two of you. Days with Toya were simply good days. And you were absolutely grateful for someone like him because god knows how terrible it’d really be here without him.

“Why don’t we make this night a bit memorable,” Toya who was right next to you behind the counter, gives you a side wink and unzips the company jacket to reveal a small ziplock within the pocket. Andddddd long behold it’s weed! You chuckle to yourself, never getting tired of Toya’s shenanigans. Very much appreciated as he’s best form of entertainment here.

“Toya we almost got caught last time, you really wanna risk it again?” Your words ran on deaf ears as he was already rolling up the blunt underneath the counter, “what’s the worst they can do? Fire us?” You stopped for a second and nodded, well he wasn’t wrong. Maybe this was the push you needed to finally leave this shit hole. “You got a point, let’s do it quick before someone comes in.”

While this is a 24 hour convenience store, usually pass 1am, rarely anyone is inside. So you suppose it wouldn’t be too bad of an idea. Plus with Toya your bound to have a good time, who are you to deny him. You trusted in him enough to get away with his bs.

“Pass the lighter doll,” you fished for the lighter that was nicely decorated with little blue flames over in your small book bag and passed it to him. He holds the blunt between his two hands and you duck underneath the counter with him. “Ladies first,” he cockily said, you lean forward and placed your mouth on the blunt while he held it for you. He always did this and it always felt oddly intimate to you. Couldn’t help the warm fuzzy feeling in your chest taking over when his glass like eyes gazed over you. They always made you curious and somehow hungry for knowledge of his life. You’ve never knew someone so well yet know nothing of them, but that’s always been enigma of Touya. You exhaled closing your eyes, attempting to calm your nerves. “You know the only time I ever smoke is on the job with you.” He smirked bringing the blunt to his own lips, “guess I’m a bad influence then.”

You snorted and rolled your eyes. “Everyone needs a lil spice in their life, no?” It was his turn to roll his eyes. You gently grabbed his wrist and led the blunt back to your lips again, he stared quietly at you. Which oddly made you tense up. “Don’t look at me like that,” you smiled.

“Like what?” He smiled.

“Like I’m the most beautiful girl in the world that you can’t live without.” Now you both laughed. This was the usual routine with Toya; cracking jokes and talking shit for a bit and simply enjoying each other’s company while the store was empty. He finally broke the trance you were in when he spoke up.

“You know, having my father kick me out of the house wasn’t so bad after all,” Toya leaned in.

You looked at him with a puzzled look, he never brings up his father. Whenever the conversation appeared it was quickly diverted elsewhere. You didn’t want to poke or intrude but curiosity got the best of you and you couldn’t help but want to continue the conversation. “Yea? Why is that?” You wondered. His father, from what you’ve been able to gather with the little bits Toya has mentioned here and there, was that supposedly his father is some CEO to a multi million dollar company. Odd considering the likes to where Toya ended up but you concluded that they must’ve ended in bad terms. You understood how cruel and selfish parents can be and didn’t need further explanation on that part. Easy to assume considering how poorly and little he speaks of him. He shut your ideas off with his simple response.

“I wouldn’t be smoking a blunt with the world’s most beautiful girl under this shitty counter, if it weren’t for it.” Ha, that definitely caught you off guard, causing a light blush to form across your face. Even with a seeming sensitive topic he still manages to tease you. He’s got that cheeky smile plastered all over, “Got you choked up doll?” You rolled your eyes. You were about to tell him off before the door rang indicating that someone has entered the store. You snapped out of the haze and immediately got up to quickly realize that the person who entered was one of the regional managers, oh fuck. You nearly froze in fear and kicked Toya under the counter. “Ow the fuck was that for?” He looked at you while soothing the kick you just gave him but upon looking at your panicked expression and frenzied body, he quickly crushed the blunt and shoved it back inside the pocket of his jacket. He didn’t need to be told or explained which you greatly appreciated at the moment. Toya was always able to read the room, bless his soul. He clumsily got back up to which you had fixed his crooked hat and whispered into his ear to tuck his shirt in while covering him slightly to do so.

“Hi-ya hello, good afternoon, I mean good evening sir.” You embarrassedly stumbled over your words to which Toya snickered at. You kicked him again harder this time as discreetly as you could. On the verge of a panic attack. He gripped tightly at the counter, smiling at the man in front of you both. Hissing silently at the pain your kick caused him. He gave you a quick side eye nodding his head in disapproval. Which somehow made you feel drastically worse.

“Good evening to you both, I’m sure you know who I am.”

You responded a bit too hastily looking like a rabid chihuahua. “Yes! Yea. Of course we do, how are you? What brings you in at this time? It’s so late.” You manage to say within 2.0 seconds, the automatic robotic customer service attitude overtaking your body. Well- at least trying to considering you just had a 30-minute smoke sesh under the counter and your mind is desperately trying to sober up. Honestly, what the fuck was he doing here at this time? This has never happened and I mean out of all the hours of the day. Oh yea, you’re definitely getting fucked, the smell of weed was so pungent, it was literally embarrassing how bad the situation looks. You wanted to cry. Toya’s eyes were stained red and you only assumed yours look worse.

“Gotten a few complaints about this store recently. Wanted to come in and take a look.” You began to get a cold sweat, oh shit he knows, he definitely knows. You had words lodged in your throat that couldn’t come out. What could you say? What can you say? You’re in the wrong here. Everyone knows that smoking weed with your cool and kinda hot coworker under the counter is definitely not ok. Maybe even illegal, oh god what if this gets on your record. You’ll definitely not be able to get a professional job, then you’ll really get stuck working a even shitter job than this. Oh good oh god oh my god.

As if sensing the absolute panic and anxiety off of you, Toya gently caressed your arm motioning you to relax and to stay silent. You recognized the wave that washed over him and instantly knew he’d handle the situation, he always does. And if you could die in his arms right now, you’d accept your fate happily. Toya was an interesting man oh right, you always believed he held such potential to do great things and even change the world. It doesn’t make sense really considering you both work at a basic job but you had come to secretly admire the guy. You’d would tell him too, how you believed in him, how you had so much confidence for him to become something great but he would always shut it down and brush it off like it was nothing. It was as if he didn’t think he was good enough. It always bugged you that he thought so little of himself, but seeing him now causally and confidently bullshit the regional manager out of your current situation just simply reminded you of how special he was to you. Definitely got your pussy wet and made you eternally grateful too.

Toya was standing in front of the counter, making hand gestures while the manager just stared analyzing his words. You were completely z0ned out, only able to get parts of the conversation.

“We’ve been having this customer appear at the store over and over again around this time of night harassing me and Y/N. We’ve considered calling the cops since he’s always high off his mind, we’ve caught him smoking in the bathroom on multiple occasions too. He was in here about 15 minutes ago and we haven’t been able to get rid of the smell.”

Ah the beautiful lies that slipped through Toya’s lips sounded like a symphony. It was nothing short of comedic and yet so fucking Oscar-worthy. You could definitely pay this man to tell you lies he with how effortlessly convincing he was. You couldn’t even care to listen to what the manager was responding with, but on his way out he waved at you wishing you a goodnight and you sighed out with relief.

Toya turns to you clasping his hands together “well there’s gonna be a security guard here for the next two weeks.” You laughed “I guess that’s better than getting fired huh.”

“I’m not sure about that,” he chuckled. “I texted Shigs to come and take over the rest of our shift.”

You looked at him confused, “how come? Either way, do you think he’ll be ok alone here?”

Toya slipped his phone into his pocket and walked back to you “yea he doesn’t give a fuck. Besides you look pale fucking white, guess this guy sobered your ass up real quick.”

You attempted to glare angrily at him but it came off as a soft puppy look. You had no energy nor the strength to pretend. It feels like you just got whiplash from the rollercoaster you were on. Figured it was no use in lying considering you looked like you just went through it. “Yea, I still feel high as shit, I just wanna go home already, only thing this guy gave me was a fat fucking headache.”

He ruffled the top of your head, “awe poor baby,” he said in a teasing tone, he inched up right beside you, “I got something that can help with that.” You jokingly pushed him off you, tying to ignore the warm feeling pooling under your stomach. Your mind was definitely thinking something dirty with a million miles per second and with how he handled today’s situation you’d be more than willing to give him whatever he pleased, but you pretended to cast aside those intrusive thoughts and act unfazed. “Shit don’t tell me you got Advil on you too?”

He chuckled lightly nodding is head down, “got something even better doll.” He scoots up next to you and grabs a bottle of excedrin underneath the counter, passing it to you. You excitedly open it taking two pills out “oh my god I didn’t know we had some underneath here, yes thank you. You're definitely my hero today Toya.” As if y’all didn’t work in a convenience store that had if not all types of medicines. It was the effort that made it special though, it’s what brought that bright goofy smile of yours to light.

You weren’t able to see the blush that formed on his cheeks while you swallowed the two pills. “Yea I remember you telling me you get headaches n shit and I know this medicine helps with it.” He was scratching the back of his head awkwardly. He never really handles compliments well but you tippy toed over to him and wrapped your arms softly around his neck. “I appreciate it Toya, that was really thoughtful. Thank you.”

If you didn’t see his previous blush you definitely noticed this one, which in turn lead you to blush. But you couldn’t miss this opportunity- “AWE is lil Toya blushing. So cute brings me back to my middle school days.” That caused a loud laugh to come out of you both. “Shut it.” he quickly and quietly said.

“Am I interrupting something.” You and Toya quickly untangled from each other trying to play off the slight tension in the air.

“Errrr um.. Hey Shiggy, thanks for uh coming in.” You awkwardly stumbled, you never really got along with him so there was always this weird loud silence between the both of you. He already seemed to be annoyed, per usual. The sloppy blue hair all tangled looking greasy and his patchy skin looking irritated and flaky as usual. He definitely was not amused or happy to be here. Well when was her ever. You’ve yet to seen the man smile.

“Whatever.” He takes a sip from his metal bottle and walks over to the counter.

“Shiggy you the man, thanks for pulling up bud.” Toya pats him in the back and Shigaraki shuttered. “Don’t touch me,” he flatly said. He glared at you both.

“You guys can go leave and fuck now.” The words caught you instantly by surprise and you got completely red. “That’s not what were gonn- ugh whatever like it matters.” With that, you and Toya clock out and leave the store with Shigaraki sending daggers at your back.

“He’s always acting like such a bitch.” You annoyingly complained.

Toya puts his arm around your shoulder pulling you closer to him “he ain’t so bad when you get to know him.”

“I guess.” You rolled your eyes, you didn’t really care. You were more relieved to have finally left. He can rot in the store by himself for all you care. Not you or Toga would miss him.

“So,” Toya glided with his words, itching you closer to him. He was leading the way in this position with you happily following. Not knowing the destination but feeling completely at peace with his form completely snug at your side. You comfortably wrapped your arm around his waist and gently placed your head in the crook of his neck. This was nice you thought, you and Toya were always this intimate when alone. No hesitation or awkwardness, just simply holding hands and sharing body heat as friends with the underlying passion waiting to burst and to be acknowledged. But nothing ever felt rushed, not with Toya. You stared at him from this angle, taking in his beautiful effortless features. His lashes looked so long as you stared in slight jealousy, his hair a perfect black mess with hidden red roots if you stared long enough, and his eyes. Man, you could write poems and sing songs with how the eyes stirred up some emotion you can't quite pin down. Always causing an eruption of feelings you can barely control.

You felt the warmth from his breath when he spoke, “wanna go to back to my place and finish that blunt? Would love nothing more than to see the world’s most beautiful girl on my bed.”

You blushed and nodded looking at those piercing blue eyes once again “well, when you look at me like that I guess I can’t say no.”

Maybe this time you would finally show Toya just how special he really is to you.

#Touya x You #toya #toya todoroki #todoroki x reader #bnha dabi #dabi smut #dabi imagine #dabi x reader #dabi #dabi my hero academia #my hero fanfic #my hero academia #dabi fluff #dabi fic #toya smut #kinktober #mha todoroki

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batarella · 3 years

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3 birds 1 stone - chapter 7

‘Dick, Jason, and Tim. Supposed brothers 'till the end, until all three fall in love with you. Who wins your heart?

The man who earned it, the man who stole it, or the man who always had it?’

A/N: school’s a bitch, but nothing’s stopping me from having a fuck ton of fun with this series. and with this chapter, I had loads of it.

WORDS: 11,289 (I’m not even sorry) WARNINGS: batarella’s funeral

MASTERLIST | 3 BIRDS 1 STONE MASTERLIST

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First, it was the light.

You always slept with your curtains drawn, so the light almost never reached your room when you wake up in the early or late hours in the morning. So when you awoke with your eyelids red and bright, like the sun was a foot away from your nose, you knew something was wrong.

Second, the sheets. They were clean, but obviously different from the cottony light comforter you liked to wrap yourself with in the winter. The ones you had around your body right then, on the other hand, was just a thin, white sheet, warm yet not nearly as warm as your quilt.

Then the bed felt off as well. Stiff. Firm. Not at all wrecked like the mess you often left behind even after making your bed, or in your case just draping the blanket over the whole mattress before you went off for the day.

And when you were awake enough to have the rest of your senses snap out of your dreary, groggy vision of a dream that faded as soon as the sting in your temple kicked in, you realized that it was bacon being cooked somewhere within a few meters from where you lied down, warm smoke and all.

Forcing your throbbing eyelids apart, you confirmed that you were, in fact, not in your studio loft.

And you almost had a heart attack when the next thing that graced your line of sight was a large, shirtless man with roughed up dark hair and a pair of gray sweatpants, facing the stove from whence the sweet smell of bacon came.

You didn’t have the sober senses to linger on such eye candy for long, not when you went straight to clutching your clothes, your jeans, your leg, everywhere else. No, they hadn’t been taken off. Not for the whole night, it seems. And you didn’t feel anything funny down there.

Almost jumping off the edge of the bed, Jason spoke. “’Morning, pretty bird.”

Okay. It’s just Jason. At least you did not end up having drunken sex with a stranger and overslept.

And now that that was out of the question, the thoughts, the panic, eventually into this blissful yet brief momentous relief, the horrific migraine came along.

You grabbed a fistful of your hair and leaned over to cover your face with your bent knees.

“I’m assuming that hangover isn’t a good one.”

“I can't believe I stayed the night-“

“Relax. It’s no big deal.”

Seeing with the room so bright definitely didn’t help when you looked up at Jason. “Did I-“

“No, you didn’t do anything regretful, or memorable, and I was the one who insisted you stay over.”

“I remember…” Your palms stuck to your face. “Talking and burritos and Dick and Tim and-ugh…”

“Yeah that’s… basically it.”

“I didn’t tell you anything embarrassing, did I?”

Jason poured his pan of bacon onto a plate. “Define embarrassing.”

“Something you wouldn’t have wanted to hear.”

“If anything, pretty bird, you told me everything I needed to hear. My brothers sure have it bad for you.”

“Fuck,” you murmured. “What did I say?”

“A lot. Dick talking to you right before the wedding. Tim telling you he loved you right after. I told you some stuff, too. Remember those?”

“It’ll probably come back to me. Soon enough.” You swung your legs over the bed and saw that you, unfortunately, only had one.

You exposed yourself to Jason.

So hurriedly you reached for your prosthetic and latched it on at a record five seconds. Fuck, you showed yourself to him. That was the drunken move of the night. You could have said shit all, and it wouldn’t have mattered, yet you just had to take off that stupid robot leg.

You coughed, and it only made that stupid headache throb worse.

“Bottoms up.”

Jason placed a plate of his cooking with a fork for you to take onto the coffee table, then he made his way to you, stretching out his hand. You looked at him and you were sure you looked like some sorry excuse of a human being with your hair up in all directions and your eyes as dead as a rotting corpse’s. But Jason just shrugged, pulled on your shoulder when you didn’t take his hand, and led you to the couch.

You probably would have had something else to say other than a wordless mumble if he’d just made himself look a bit more presentable and not to overly distracting with his brick wall of a chiseled body. You picked at his bacon and forced it down your throat.

“I’m sorry…” you swallowed. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Done what?”

The bacon tasted great.

“I feel pathetic.”

“It sure seemed like you needed a talk.”

“I know -“

“Who else would you have talked to?” He took a bite for himself. “Steph? Cass? Bruce? They don’t know half the shit I do about Dick and Tim. And trust me, you deserved to know the truth.”

Yeah. Dick wanting to chicken out of his wedding to profess his love for you was something you definitely needed to hear.

“Yeah,” you snarled. “But then I got drunk and slept here… and you know I hate being an inconvenience.”

“It’s alright, pretty bird. If anything I had a good time last night.”

Then, so unexpectedly, he placed his arm around you and never have you felt a naked body press so tenderly against yourself that you froze at the contact. Then you looked up at his face, eyes so wide, then he looked back at you and smiled.

You smiled back, slowly easing in.

Your smile. That same smile.

It made Jason lose his, then you saw his throat hitch.

Your lips were flat and practically gone when you looked away, picked up your fork and stuffed your mouth with more bacon so he’d pull his arm off you.

“What did I say before I passed out?”

“About Dick and Tim?” Jason inched himself away and everything felt too cold. “A lot.”

“Was I pathetic?”

“No. I don’t blame you for being so confused.”

Okay. You were many things. Stupid was one of them. But confused wouldn’t exactly be the right thing to define that horrific typhoon devastation that was left of all logical thought. You weren’t confused per se, not when you understood everything with the timing with Dick and the break up with Tim. You knew exactly what went on with either of them, it’s just that you didn’t know how to make all these directions weeded out into this one, straight line so you’d know how to go through the rest of your days as smooth as you possibly could.

“I’m not confused.”

Jason sighed. “When you said you didn’t know if you should even choose, I just assumed.”

Maybe, in a way, you were confused.

But indecisive felt more like it.

“I just don’t want to-“

“Yeah, I know. You don’t want to upset either of them anymore.”

Jason stood up, and slowly, he went over to the fridge for a glass of water. He poured it into a glass, then he gave it to you.

“You called yourself selfish, too. But I don’t think you are. You don’t want to choose between them ‘cuz you want to do what’s best for both of them. Not for you.”

You’ve never seen him look at you like that. And even if he didn’t already look enough like his brothers, he had that same wide-eyed softness that often got to you. That look that made them all look the most beautiful.

He sat next to you again, elbows on his knees.

“My brothers were fucking assholes with what they did, but they’re good people. And they’re lucky, that you’re even considering them to be the one who gets to be with you. They deserve forgiveness. They’ll bend the world for you. I’m sure of it.”

If he wasn’t sitting so close, or watching your face like he wanted to note every detail you had on, you would have taken much longer just to shut your dangling mouth, because all there was right then was silence. Not just with your words, which you didn’t have even one, but that typhoon that raged, that indecisiveness, it was all quiet.

“Thank you…” you swallowed your food. “I showed you my… leg, too… didn’t I?”

“Yeah…” Jason hunched over and grabbed his hair, running his own fingers through his locks. “You don’t have to worry about that, though. But if it means anything, I’m sorry.”

“Why apologize?”

He shrugged. “Maybe you weren’t ready to show me, yet.”

You shouldn’t have been biting your lips so much before you’d eventually be tasting your own blood. But that, with that comfort you once had with him last night now this tension that you could pick apart with a needle, you were surprised your palms weren’t bleeding with the way you were digging your nails into them.

“I was ready…”

“Really?”

He was trying to bite back a smile. It was cute.

“Yeah…”

You finished the food, which you probably shouldn’t have done. You should have left before you even took a bite or said anything more than just a sentence.

His eyes were slightly squinted when he looked up at you, head craned down. This bashfulness you don’t often see. Then his brow was up and he was chuckling.

It made you smile back.

Jason stood up and went over to his closet to get a shirt. Finally.

Your bag was already on the couch, and even when you looked like aa troll had thrown up on you, you didn’t look absolutely horrific that people would stop and stare. So after a few brushes down your hair with your own fingers, you went for the door.

“I’ll get out of your hair now.”

“Really. It’s all good, pretty bird.”

Jason walked up to you, held out the door, then you stood just outside to pull on your coat.

“Thank you so much, Jay.”

“I swear. Don’t sweat it. Hit me up when you need anything.”

Jason was beautiful.

And he had the kindest heart tucked behind this façade of street and trauma. You swallowed, laughed, then you opened your arms to invite him for a hug. Jason rolled his eyes and let you.

Nose to his shoulder, you ran your hand down his clothed back, and with just one hand he wrapped it around you.

Then you left. Back home. Back to that inevitable loneliness and the thinking you could foresee that was as good in occupying the spaces in your mind as music in the background, which you should probably be resorting to just to have some kind of attempt at peace. When you got to your apartment, the unfinished canvas was staring daggers at you, screaming and demanding your attention away from boys.

You rolled up your sleeves. A shower can wait, after you go through this whole painting that was big enough to be a wall. This will distract you, hopefully. At least your hands will be busy.

A fashion magazine’s editor wanted a piece for her office. You ran frantically about in your studio and picked up your basket full of paint and brushes to use for the piece, which already stained your hands just holding it up. And you set it on the floor. You’ll work on the floor for now. An easel can suck it.

The canvas was right up against the wall and the blank strokes of yellow and blue for the background were practically growling at you to just finish it off, demanding apologies in the form of touch ups and polishes over its now dried up surface.

You started with the biggest brush and violently dried it off, slapped it onto your palette for the mustard yellow you’d concocted, then you swiped that brush over for the background swirling it around the roughed-up edges of the left side to creating this wind-like surface. There were whites, so it looked a lot like wind, and even with it so dark on your palette, it had lightened up the moment it hit the canvas. So light, and soft, like the bickering remnants of sunlight when barely would it pierce through roughened glass.

That, and with your brush smaller and more precise, you drew on with a tone a bit darker the curving lines to signify direction. Then you lightly tapped it on.

You placed more paint onto your own jeans and mixed it with white, over and over with your brush. Sitting cross legged on the floor, you could tell from the sun that it had only just passed noon. Hair up in a mess, you went on with sketching out the sky with an even lighter color, letting the mix play around and form these strips of clouds.

Yellow was safe. Warmth. Something you could rely on and a color so close to your heart, comfort when you hadn’t an idea where to start. The color that was still, calm, light. It was the sun. It was the wind. Often the horizon. The leaves when it was autumn.

You always managed to find a place for yellow in every painting you did, because it calmed you, like a blanket over your shoulders when you were curled up in your couch.

Done. Now onto the right side.

Your brush sinking into a cup of water, you started with a new shade. Cobalt.

Not your usual choice when you painted the sky, but this wasn’t so much of a sky as it was just an abstract excuse of a wall that went with the yellows and all. But it should look good. At least, in your head it did. You swept your brush onto your jeans and didn’t even curse when you got paint onto your shirt, so you rolled your sleeves some more, scratched your chin despite your hand covered in paint and went to town.

The cobalt did look good, but the blending with the yellow was going to take more work. You just went with it, let the pressure control the shades for different parts of the right side and let it splatter a bit, messily enough to look casual and unintentional.

It was yellow that calmed you and blue that brightened up your days when you felt the most… well… blue. When you often felt like anything you destroyed everything you laid your hands on when all you were supposed to do was create, on those days, those days, that you just couldn’t hold back from taking control of the best of you, it was often blue, and all the different shades of it, that gave you the foundation of a brightly lit sky, and you’d go on from there.

When nothing comes to mind, that color was what pushed you to move forward, inspired you, gave your creative juices that needed startup so you’d know where to go on from there and take you on until it all ends. You loved landscapes especially, and what other color was there more than blue. It was the sky. It was the water. It was shared, and most other people loved it as well. But so often did it brighten your work, it was what your eyes would turn to at first glance.

You were done with the background, and only had it been hours since you started. Your arm to your forehead, you backed away and eyed what you’d finished.

A dress. Of course. That, and the woman wearing it. You’d start with the woman for now.

Beautifully tanned skin, almost a dark orange even. You painted her hair and her head was slightly turned to the side. A sharp, small nose. Eyes were shut but soft, watching the ground beside her. Then you went on to outline her slender body, her leg in front of the other, then you placed her hands on her front. They won't be seen with the dress and all, anyway. So that’s what you went. She looked shy, like she was covering herself. And sad.

You wanted her hair flowing over her shoulders and her back, but you needed the dress first. A flowy, fiery statement dress.

A can of red paint was staring at you from all the way across the room, and with it definitely going to contrast against the yellow and blue, you decided for it and stood up, wiping your hands all over your jeans, then you picked up your paint. Barely anything left, but it should be enough for the dress.

You sat back down, mixed it on your palette for the shade you wanted, then you dabbed it lightly over the woman’s breast.

Then you backed up, eyed the whole painting from some distance away.

You weren’t often the one for red, especially not really bright tones that just wouldn’t look natural with your scenery paintings of either the country or the city. You don’t use it often, though it did look exquisitely beautiful when it was fiery and loud and would pop up over anything else painted onto the same plane, and it was beautiful. Mesmerizing. It called for attention and it was romantic and lustful and so awfully did it want your touch.

Not long after, your round tip brush was all over the woman, covering her with a skirt that flowed from one end of the canvas to the other so much like fire, the same ones from your dreams and nightmares. You hated fire, despised it, but it was beautiful. It didn’t spark a trigger or made you flinch. So seldom were you so mesmerized with your own work as you were in the middle of doing it. It was beautiful. Warm like yellow, bright like blue, but red had this sense of danger, darkness that just called out to you. And you just wanted to jump into it.

It was exciting. And its intensity called out to your darkest sides and somehow that intensity was what pulled the whole painting together.

You even gasped when you finished that last stroke, and with that, and the sun so close to setting, you put your brush down.

Your clothes looked like they’d just gone through a washing machine filled with red, blue, and yellow paint instead of detergent, and the rest of you looked no better than if you’d just climbed out of a drainage pipe. You wiped your sweat off your forehead, pulled the canvas off the wall, and set it on an easel.

She looked beautiful. The woman. Sad, but beautiful. You used that last bit of sunlight to look at how it set into the fabric, how it was practically its own world apart from the real one.

And after you decided you were content with it, and with it, ridding you from an otherwise horrible start with a hangover and all, you took a shower, cleaned up, and went to bed.

The next morning, you sent it over to your client, who told you that somehow, the painting told her a story.

A story, it could be.

Though even with the painting telling it, it was clear it was far from ending.

-----

You prayed to the deity above that it was Sunday, the only day you allowed yourself to sleep in now with you having three ongoing clients at that moment. And with the room so freezing, since you left the window open the night before, you’d rather wallow into the depths of your sheets than to pull yourself up from the bed and actually function like a normal human being. You forced just one eye open and openly cursed at how bright it was that day. You pulled on the blankets, right over your head, and forced your eyes shut to let your brain believe it was still well into the night.

But then your phone rang, and now you really wanted to beat yourself up for forgetting to put it on silent and leave it all the way over to the kitchen. You muffled the noise with your pillow but even after long minutes, the ringing just wouldn’t stop.

Throwing the blankets violently off of you, you reached for your phone, eyes adjusting to the light. You rubbed your eyelids open.

‘Dick’ it read on the screen.

Deciding that call wasn’t such a bad start for your day, you set yourself on the little table in front of your fridge and accepted it.

“Hey…” you yawned.

“Mornin’, night owl.” Dick sounded enthusiastic. “Did I wake you up?”

You yawned some more and it made Dick laugh.

“Obviously, you’d know when you call at this hour.”

“Y/N, it’s one in the afternoon.”

“Oh,” you said. “Explains why I’m starving.”

“How are you?”

You stood up from your chair and went over to make yourself a cup of coffee, anything to make that morning, or afternoon, just a bit more bearable. “I’m alright. I sent a new piece over to a client that other day. One of my biggest sales yet.”

“Oh? What of?”

“This one’s funny. And borderline illegal. This guy enrolled in some course over at Arts College needed a boost for his finals and he paid me to do his work for him.”

“Good thing they don’t run plagiarism checks on paintings.”

“Even if that was possible, I made sure to do it the way this guy usually does from a few pictures he’d sent me. He’s not bad. Not too good. But he must have needed that A or else he wouldn’t have paid me almost a thousand dollars for a small piece.”

“A thousand dollars?”

“I know. The guy’s rich.”

“No kidding.”

Dick laughed, and you missed hearing it in person so terribly. You could imagine the dimples that must have been on his cheeks right at that moment, knowing how beautiful they must have looked and you couldn’t even see them.

“I’m really proud of what you’ve done for yourself,” he said. “Just look at you.”

You felt your face all weird and you wanted to look away even when there wasn’t a ghost around you at all. You felt like a straight up moron.

“Thanks,” you coughed. “What about you? How are you?”

“God, you don’t wanna ask,” he grunted. “It’s a mess. Not everyone got along back when I was Robin, but it wasn’t anything as messed up as this. I don’t know what happened while I was out, but they can't keep off of each others’ throats for a second.”

“And you said you’d be home by the time you were done dealing with Deathstroke.”

“As long as that man’s alive, we’re never actually done with dealing with him. And even if he wasn’t almost immortal, we can't do much outside sending him over to Blackgate.”

“Is he in Blackgate?”

“For now.”

You swallowed. “Then what’s keeping you back there?”

Dick shuffled with the phone, and you heard voices. Gar’s, most probably. Dick was making his way out of the room, to a balcony of some sort away from other people, because then it was quiet.

“Everything else.”

Even with just a few sips from you mug, already you were wide awake. Your fingers fiddling with the hem of your shirt, you sighed.

“You really are quite the leader…” you said. “I don’t think there’s anyone else out there who can do it like you do.”

Dick snorted. “I doubt it.”

“Look what happened with you being out even for just a few months. It’s amazing, really, how people just listen to you.”

“Yeah… Except when it’s my siblings. It’s like tying bears down with dog leashes.”

“It’s not your fault. No one, not even Darkseid, can make Damian Wayne submit.”

“Almost as if he’s Bruce Wayne’s son.”

You laughed and sat back against your chair.

“Anything interesting happen lately?”

“Nothing that wouldn’t bore you to death.”

“Try me,” you said. “Just let me hear your voice.”

You heard him sigh. You heard him smile. From cheek to cheek. You wanted to see him, but you just calmed.

Then Dick started talking about this incident with Gar and Raven, how one catty little comment turned into this jungle fest between an overpowered demon and a green tiger wrestling it out in the living room. Dick was in the middle of it, of course, but his pleas weren’t nearly enough to calm either of them down.

And even when you were laughing and giving all these fun little remarks that often made him chuckle, it was all too difficult how you had to hold yourself back from spilling the mounds stuck at the back of your throat, everything you wanted to talk to him about, and you couldn’t, can't, say a thing. The things that had to be said, that had been waiting in this old shed stuck at the farthest corner of the earth for days too long. One that you were both too afraid to surface, because you were a coward yourself. What do you even say to him? How do you even begin?

And as Dick went on, the more you just wanted everything lash out of you, even when talking about it through the phone wouldn’t be the best idea.

You needed to look at him in the face, see how he’ll react to all the things you had to pour out of your heart and scream whatever you wanted to scream at him for. Your anger, the frustrations for his cowardice and how he just let Tim have you without so much as a fight or even try to find out who really had your heart, even when you yourself couldn’t even say. And even more did you want to tell him all that despite it not being his fault how the worst enemy there was to your story with Dick was timing.

But you didn’t do any of that and instead, you kept your silence. You pretended that this little conversation of yours was enough to get you through the day to keep all that sinking pit in your stomach at bay and not let anything bother you anymore. Even though, more than anything else at that moment, you desperately just wanted to get back to work without having so much to think about.

Dick finished the story, and by the end, you hadn’t even an idea what he’d said, when all those years you never even missed just one word out of his mouth when he spoke to you.

“What about you?” Dick asked. “Anything interesting happen other than work?”

The only thing interesting that happened lately that wasn’t work was Jason, and the last thing you wanted was to get away from that even when you hadn’t placed a thought on that night since, well, that night. You didn’t want to.

“Not much, really. I’m usually just at home painting.”

“Have you been outside to paint?”

“Just once. I wanted a view of the skyline. I went to the rooftop of the Gotham City Plaza just to paint for a few hours and finished it at home.”

“For a client?”

“No…” you said. “Just for me.”

“That’s so great. I’d take you to this place just an hour away from Jersey. It’s this farmland, but it has this really pretty view of a valley at the far end.”

“Dick, how do you know all these places?” You stuck your phone between your cheek and your shoulder as you cleaned up and went over to the sink.

“What places?”

“The ones out of the city. It’s not like you go out on vacation much.”

“Well, I-“ Dick mumbled, and you heard him shuffle his phone over to the other ear and his breath hitched. “I guess… I don’t know. I know you like painting the countryside. I look them up on the internet. Sometimes I ask around. Sometimes, most of the time, really, when I drive from Bludhaven to Gotham, I go through the route near the ocean. That’s where I found that cliff I took you last time.”

His voice was so soft at the end that you could barely even make out his words.

And, once again, you didn’t even have a breath you could take in to calm your throbbing chest.

“Oh…”

“Yeah,” he sighed.

“That’s-“ you placed your other hand on the kitchen counter. “That’s really sweet of you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Your cheeks were hurting, again, and you wanted to wash yourself with a bucket of cold water.

“Dick,” you croaked. “When are you coming back?”

You knew something was wrong the minute you didn’t hear a word out of him even several seconds after. You heard him walk around. You heard him cough. You could even hear him breathe a lot louder than he usually does, but when all that was from his silence, you knew it won't be for a long time.

“I don’t know…”

Then you heard him breathe faster, like he was running, like he was nervous.

“B-but, if you ask me to come home right now, I will. I’ll be there by tonight. If you need me at all…”

Something was picking at your neck like the knife you had laying around in your kitchen, and you wanted to drive it all the way up so you’d actually have an excuse not to have a response at all. Because you didn’t have one, not when your face felt like exploding from how much you’ve had to hold in.

“Or even if you just say you miss me, I’ll come back. Wait, no, that sounds… wrong. I’m sorry. But you know what I mean.”

You shut your eyes.

You want him home because you wanted to talk about how he’d just changed the course of your whole life in just one single letter and made you doubt all the waterfalls and rivers of feelings you’ve had for him all these years.

“Of course, I miss you. But…” You dipped your head down and faced the bottom of your sink.

“Stay there, Dick. The Titans need you…”

Silence. And you wanted to choke the air out of you when you couldn’t even hear him breathe anymore.

Something echoed from behind Dick, and you heard his muffled voice from his hand blocking the phone’s receiver. You swallowed, looked up at the window just to let the melting snow on the ground outside fill that frightening blank in your head.

You heard Dick clear his throat. “I’m really sorry. I have to go.”

“It’s alright,” you softly sighed. “You going out tonight?”

“No. I’m trying to let the Titans do the work by themselves. I’ll be sitting it out the next few days.”

“Alright, then. Be safe.”

“I will.”

You hung up first, and with that, you turned on the faucet and let the water flow out from the rim of your coffee cup, watching the brown dilute with the water so painfully slow.

Maybe Jason was right, you were confused.

You had to talk to Tim.

Maybe he can change all that.

-----

It probably was a mistake to come all the way to the manor, to talk to someone about things you didn’t even know in the hopes of clearing up a picture you weren’t sure you wanted to see.

But you’ve been holding out on talking to Tim, really talking to him without it turning into some pity fest for the both of you and it was obviously one you both really needed. And, without a doubt, you missed him. The days without even getting to text him was taking its sweet toll on you. You couldn’t be apart from him even if you tried.

Alfred welcomed you in, telling you that Tim was about to wake up anytime soon since he got home from the office at fucking twelve in the afternoon that day because he spent the whole night, and morning, working when even Bruce was telling him to come home. You started to take off your coat, but with it being so empty in the parlor, the fireplace dark and gritty and the walls so silent, it was eerie, you wanted to stay outside.

You went over to the back, through the kitchen where there was a backdoor, then you went outside in the light orange pasture where the snow had melted and the trees and bushes sticking up with just their trunks of wood. There were leaves around, drenched and muddy with the soil, and the grounds were unkept. But it was wonderful to see, nonetheless. You stayed outside at the gardens, grass under your boots, and waited despite the breezing chill.

Not long after, you heard him come up from behind you.

“Y/N.” Tim sounded relieved. “Christ, I was just about to call.”

And it wasn’t even awkward, hesitant, or at all unusual when he rushed to you and pulled you to his chest. You hugged him back immediately, eyes closed, ignored how the last time you saw him you were so close to just breaking down and focused instead that you hadn’t seen your best friend in weeks and none of you had the courage to even call. And already, that void within you felt infinitely better. And you didn’t pull away even after so long. And for such a moment, you pleaded that it wouldn’t end, that you wouldn’t have to pull away and face the realities don’t even want to go into. And after all you’ve been through, being here, being in his arms, it was too good to even be a part of your fantasies, the resort, or a distraction perhaps, of what was really going on.

But it wasn’t like you were revealing some long-forgotten truth that would crush him out of unexpectedness, because he already knew. You just didn’t know what it’s going to be right after.

Eventually, unfortunately, you both pulled away, but not without Tim brushing his thumb across your cheek which made you want to just melt in his arms. His hair was swept back and he looked like he’d just gone out of bed, but his eyes looked absolutely striking against the white of the snow left over on the ground, and the way he looked at you made you want to regret ever looking away from him after the last time, which, frankly, you couldn’t even remember.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t reach out-“

He hushed you down. “It’s alright. How are you?”

Still in his hold around your waist, your faint arms enjoyed themselves resting against his chest.

“I could be better.”

“What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

You were so close to just blurting out ‘yes’, but that could possibly make him want to pull away, which you didn’t want to happen at all. At least, not for a bit longer. You needed to be held.

But Tim must have known, because he slowly pulled away, and you were in no place to just ask to be held one more when you were about to, possibly, rip his heart out.

You didn’t even have a clue on how he’s going to react.

“Tell me about you first,” you said. “Anything happen lately?”

“No. Nothing at all. I’m at the office when I’m not asleep at home and god, I really need you to make me stop drinking ten cups of coffee everyday because it’s driving me nuts.”

“You did not-“

“Oh, I am. And it’s so boring as well. I swear I’ve been wanting to just call you and have a car sent over so you could hang out with me in the office.”

You smiled and watched how the dark circles under his otherwise bright blue eyes were even more eminent now than even before, which you hadn’t thought to be possible. You straightened his shirt. “You should have called me.”

“Yeah. I know. I should have.” He roughed up his hair and placed his other hand on his hip. He looked tired. “I just thought you needed some time alone.”

Hands in your coat, you pretended that it was the cold that made you want to curl up into a ball and roll away on the ground, but your eyes were on your boots and you breathed out a bit of smoke past your lips because you really did not want to keep staring into his eyes, out of guilt or in awe. “I… I guess I did. But I would have gone to you if you wanted me to.”

“I wanted to.”

“Then call me next time.”

Tim’s adorable smile. It was amazing how quickly it got to you.

“I will.”

You couldn’t possibly hold this for long. You got your hands out of your coat, which didn’t actually need to be housed like that when you had gloves on to protect them, then you licked your lips.

“So… Did you come to talk to me about something?”

“Yeah…”

“We can head inside.”

“No, Tim.”

It won't be long. It shouldn’t have to be long. You’ll stay here, outside, so this agony wouldn’t have to last and you’d have an excuse to cut to the chase. He didn’t deserve to stand out here while you waltz around in circles because of your cowardice.

“It’s about Dick.”

The way his face fell.

And as much as you wanted to look away before it got to you, you had to face him now.

“What about him?”

“About two weeks ago,” you said. “That day I left the manor.”

The day you last spoke to each other.

Tim listened intently, stepped closer to you, almost as if he already knew where this was going.

“Dick and I… kissed.” Fuck, you wanted to cut open your mouth saying all this to Tim. “Then when I got home, he left me a letter telling me everything.”

“Everything?”

You saw his neck tighten, even with his collar covering most of it. “What do you mean?”

“I think you know what I mean.”

His face, what you thought to have been anger slowly building up when you first mentioned Dick’s name, all dropped into this soft, unmoving silence. Tim looked away from you, watching the empty branches stay still as if they were so much more interesting than having to look at you in the eye.

“That’s, uhm,” he whispered, voice harsh and forced. “That’s great.”

It didn’t sound so great when he said it that way.

“Are you… together now?”

“No. We haven’t exactly talked about it since then.”

He nodded, pulling on his hair a bit too hard when he ran it across his scalp.

“Tim, you knew about him, didn’t you?”

He shrugged. “He wasn’t exactly doing much to hide it.”

Now, he looked mad. He turned away from you, walking down to the gardens further away from the manor, where the others might hear. You walked with him, stayed by his side. He spoke so softly, yet you knew it came straight from his darkest thoughts too painful to bring up.

“I always knew. Back when we were together. He didn’t try to get too close to you back then, but I just… had a hunch, you know? I think every boyfriend can tell when other guys try to get too close with their girl.”

“Tim, I swear, I didn’t feel anything for him at all back then-“

“I know, I know.” His sad smile broke you. “A part of me was always afraid he’d just steal you away from me, but I knew he cared about you a lot. When I…” he bit his lip. “When we broke up, I wanted to make sure you were okay. Dick didn’t know if I was fine with him going to you so soon, but I knew you’d feel better if he was there for you, and I knew he wanted to be there for you, too, so I sent him.”

Just when you thought none of this could possibly get worse.

“You sent Dick?”

He nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“No…” you said. “Don’t be sorry.”

You stepped on a melted puddle and almost slipped on the mud. Tim held your shoulder, pulled you up, then kept his hand on the small of your back. You let him.

“It was the right thing to do. You were okay. It was my fa-“ He was choking on his own words by then. “I had it coming, after how I left you…”

“Dick had Kori then,” you said, and that only made Tim snort.

“I was honestly surprised he didn’t leave Kori the moment he saw you needed him. Idiot even made it through a wedding.”

“He thought I was still in love with you.”

That’s when he stopped walking right in front of you so you’d stop, too. You looked up at him, wide eyed, and somehow you couldn’t tell if it was hope or horror staring back at you from his eyes.

“Are you?”

You closed your eyes, and wished he’d instead asked if you loved him and not if you were in love with him. Because if there was anything this experience taught you, it was that it made a hell lot of a difference.

“I’m sorry, I just…” he shook his head. “Y/N, why are you even here?”

You wanted to cry. He wanted to cry even more. His voice broke and with how his uneasy shoulders were shrugging, you didn’t know if pulling him close would be the right thing to do.

“I thought I’d talk to you about this-“

“And I told you we were over…”

If he were someone else you would have slammed your fist up in his gut.

“Are you-“

“Be with Dick,” he said. “Please. Go to him now and be with him. I’ll be okay. Is that what you came here for? To make sure I’ll be okay with it?”

“I-“ you swallowed. “No, it’s not just that.”

Mouth parted, watching your face, possibly to see how your eyes were moving and your lips were shaking for any signs of lying or whatever it was detectives do to read faces. And Tim was smart. You didn’t have to tell him any more.

And when it came to him, he backed away. He looked like he’d just seen his own murder.

“Y/N, I can't believe you're-“

“You said you knew I loved you.”

“Listen,” he growled. He was angry now. Tim barely gets angry. “I can barely even live with myself after what I’d done to you. Why should you?”

Tim held your shoulders and squeezed them so tight, you couldn’t do much else but stare up at him so breathlessly. “I hurt you and you should have gotten rid of me the moment I walked out your door. You’re supposed to hate me, Y/N.”

“Is that what you really think?” you breathed.

He laughed, raised his arms up in disbelief. “I love you. For Christ’s sake, I love you so much and it’s going to kill me when I see you with someone else. Believe me. But this is what I get. I left you, and I hurt you.”

You tried holding his face, but he wouldn’t let you.

“You’re not even supposed to let me be your friend anymore. And here you are. You keep coming back. You’re not supposed to keep coming back. Are you actually choosing between me and Dick?”

Not a tear down your face, even when you thought you’d be breaking down by now. You were without breath and still not even your own body was processing all this the way it should already be and not be stuck in utter disbelief when clearly this was all happening.

“You are…” Tim whispered. He was shaking his head, and you just felt ashamed of yourself. “I can't believe this… You should be with Dick right now…”

“I can't.”

“That night we kissed.” He stepped back closer to you. “Christmas Eve. You told me you couldn’t handle being with me anymore because of what happened.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m over you,” You didn’t realize you sounded angry. “You don’t think I hate myself for that?”

“Y/N, just be with him. You can't keep torturing yourself like this.”

“It’s so easy for you to say, isn’t it?”

None of you were screaming. None of you could scream. Not at each other. Not even when you were supposed to.

“I can't forget what I did…”

“You’re not just talking about our breakup, are you?”

Tim’s mouth stopped trembling. His voice didn’t crack. He took a step back, never breaking away from your stare. Then you saw how he flattened his lips, biting them behind his mouth.

“Tim…” you swallowed. “It wasn’t your fault-“

“Stop it.”

His jaw clenched, hands crushing each other with his fingers locked. His eyes were on the ground.

“It’s true-“

“Y/N,” he croaked. “It was my fault.”

“It’s-“

No longer did he look so vulnerable. His forehead was creased up the way it did when he was firm. He stared at you so soullessly and so exhausted.

“If it weren’t for what I did that night, you wouldn’t have to worry about going out in the summer wearing shorts or getting to join the rest of the family in a pool party or anything at all. All this is because of me. We both know it’s true.”

You should have said something.

Anything.

But he wasn’t letting you.

His eyes darted to your hidden prosthetic and immediately he looked away. But you caught that glance. You always caught glances.

“I love you, Y/N. But choose Dick. Please. I saw how happy he makes you, and I’ll be damned if I held you back from even that. Just forget about us, Y/N. Please.”

From behind him, you could see Alfred waiting for you both by the library windows. Tim turned around, nodded, then couldn’t even look at you in the eye.

His plea was what broke you. It didn’t sound like a plea you could reason with.

Tim didn’t walk away this time. Instead, he waited for you to leave first. And when you did, with him trailing behind, you fought all the demons left within to not look back. You went straight to the foyer, to the door. Not even a minute after, you were out of the manor.

-----

A call wasn’t what you needed. Not even close.

But it had been days, and wallowing in your own sadness wasn’t exactly doing you any good.

And now, after what happened with Tim, it shouldn’t have to mean you’ll run to Dick just because you were freed from the confines of a choice.

You still had to decide whether you wanted to be with Dick or not. To stay alone or be with the man who’d done nothing but love you from afar, never failing to make sure you were smiling.

And with that, after you’d spent the past few days dwelling on what’d happened, you picked up your phone, sat on the little nook by the window in your studio, then called Dick.

He didn’t answer.

It was still well into the evening. You’ll wait it out.

An hour later, still no answer.

Three, four more hours. At twelve am, having to wake yourself up from dozing off, your own fault after days of having absolutely no sleep, was exhausting. You kept staring out the window and hoped to whoever was watching you from above, ancestors or a god or whatever there was, that Dick was at least still alive. It should be a crime for vigilantes to not answer their phone in the middle of the night.

Then, at one am that night, Dick finally called you back.

“Hey…” you forced yourself to sound awake.

“Hey.”

You heard him walking. He didn’t sound injured, or even tired at all. “I’m so sorry I missed your calls.”

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

“Why are you still awake?”

You laid back against the wall. “I was waiting for you.”

He snickered. You heard a door open and close behind him, and he must have crashed into bed right then because you heard bed springs from his weight.

“Where were you tonight?”

“With the Titans. I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Your head was against the window’s glass and you watched the snow almost completely melt on the roads in front of you. “You poor thing. You sound exhausted.”

“I’m alone now…” You rolled your eyes at his tone. “How are you?”

“I’m alright,” you lied.

“What did you wanna talk to me about?”

That made you smile. His voice. His tone. Already it made things a lot more bearable.

“I just… thought you should know. I talked to Tim the other day…”

He didn’t sound like you had to say anything more for him to understand. You heard him breathe louder, heavier.

“What did he say?”

“Well… He said I should be with you…”

“He did?”

“Yeah…”

Then there was even more silence. You should have thought about this a lot more.

“I was going to ask when you’re coming home but it sounds like the Titans need you a lot more than I do.”

He chuckled. “Trust me, I want to go home more than anything.

“Then what’s stopping you?”

“You know what…” he breathed.

The glass was freezing being pressed up against your skin, but you just let it. It didn’t even bother you.

“Dick…” Your finger traced the glass. “We haven’t exactly talked about… what happened.”

“I just… I thought talking about it over the phone makes it even more… I don’t know… cowardly.”

“It’s been weeks.”

“I know...”

You threw your head back, up against the wall, then you closed your eyes. You let the cold seep in all the way down your toes. You let it calm you.

“I’m sorry if it was too much…”

“It wasn’t.”

“I was-“ He was a nervous wreck. “I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable, or that I forced my feelings down your throat. I hope I didn’t upset you…”

You couldn’t say it didn’t upset you. “It’s fine…”

“Y/N… You don’t have to do anything about it. I swear. We can just go on like nothing happened.”

Dick let out an agonizingly long sigh, then you heard his head fall to a pillow.

“That’s going to be hard…”

“I know… I don’t even know what to say to you when I come back…”

“You can say it to me now… if it makes things easier.”

Then there was silence.

Nothing at all. Not even the sheets moving. You could have sworn he was cut out for a minute. But then, when you heard him take a breath, then clear his throat, you just closed your eyes and hoped nothing he’d say would break you any further.

“I love you, Y/N…”

And despite the hurt, with everything else that went on, you let those three words be the only thing in your own little bubble of a universe. You smiled. You were never going to forget the way he said it so softly.

Then he was laughing. “I love you…” he said again. “God, it feels good to say that…”

You smiled so much; your face started to hurt.

“I read your letter like… fifty times…” you snorted.

“I hope that’s a good thing.”

“It’s a good thing.”

He giggled. You’ve never heard him giggle before. It was the most adorable thing you’ve ever heard.

“I love you. I meant everything I wrote. Everything.”

Your head met your palm, and you had to stop yourself before this was going to get the better of you.

“If it means I have to wait longer for you to sort things out, I will. Take as long as you need, and we… I can take this as slow as you want. Whatever you're comfortable with. I just don’t want to rush you into anything…”

Maybe, in a way, this was the right choice. He could be the right choice. And it’ll take a while to prove that, but it was a start.

“Dick, I-“

From his end of the phone, you heard a door swing open, then there was his phone shuffling in his hand, then all the other noises were incoherent and muffled. Voices. There was more than one.

And Dick’s hand was shaking because you managed to pick out a few of them.

“………… thank you……… Dick……”

“……………alright………”

“………. You………. sure?.........”

“………. Yeah……..”

“…….good….. talk……… understand……”

“thanks………….. rest up……..”

No. Not a few. Just one other voice. A sweet, melodic voice, much like singing.

You never thought you could feel losing a smile so quickly, your chest being pulled all the way down to the earth’s core.

The door closed, then it was Dick’s voice again.

“Hey… sorry-“

“Dick,” you croaked. “Where did you say you were tonight again?”

You heard how confused he was. “I was… the Titans…”

“You were with Kori, weren’t you?”

“I…”

“You said you were gonna sit it out the next few nights. You weren’t out on patrol with the Titans. You were in the tower with Kori. Alone. Weren’t you?”

“Y/N, I know that sounds bad, but it’s not what you think-“

“What were you talking about?”

“Y/N… We just talked…”

“About what?”

“I told you I had to come talk to her about what happened. The wedding. She deserves some closure-“

“It’s been weeks, Dick. And you spent what, five hours talking to her just tonight?”

“You know it’s not that easy.” His mouth sounded trembling. “But that doesn’t mean anything happened. Kori and I are friends.”

“I find it hard to believe that you could be friends with someone you almost married. Why didn’t you tell me you were with her tonight? After I told you I waited for you?”

“I didn’t- I don’t know… Y/N, it’s not like you don’t talk to Tim…”

“Then why did you tell me you were with the Titans?” You scoffed. “At least I don’t lie to you when I talk to Tim.”

“I wasn’t… We were at the control room alone to watch them from the cams. I didn’t think I was… I promise you, nothing happened.”

“It isn’t about that, Dick. It would have been fine if you’d just told me about it. Now I can't stop thinking about what you tried to hide from me. I know you. You're honest until you think the truth hurts a lot worse than a lie.”

It’s funny how quickly that high you went through just two minutes ago could blow over so quickly and leave you down at the bottom of an infernal pit you couldn’t climb out of, because that’s where you were right then. You were tired. You didn’t want to go through any of this. You weren’t even surprised, and that was what hurt the most. And even more so wouldn’t you be surprised if at any of those days he’d spent in that tower, they’d slept together.

“I don’t even know what I’m so upset about,” you sighed. “You don’t have to promise me anything, Dick. We’re not together. Stay there. Take as long as you like.”

You hung up on the phone.

You were done thinking.

You were done sulking.

You were done dwelling over those two boys and let them take so much control over you that barely could you even take control over yourself.

You fell asleep the moment your head hit the pillow.

You wouldn’t let the thoughts take over, at least, just for that night. There was no darkness, nor light.

There was just… nothing.

And for four whole weeks, it was just that.

Nothing.

-----

The world was kind enough to give you four weeks after that to prepare for what was possibly the worst fucking holiday there could possibly exist. And it wasn’t always so bad, not when at one point, you had a boyfriend who spoiled you with everything you could possibly wish for, and even after that, you woke up with a perfectly wrapped gift waiting for you at your doorstep full of art supplies. So not at all was Valentine’s day the absolute worse. Not always.

Just this year, you dreaded it. You woke up and already you wanted to sleep through the whole day if you could, which you did. If not for getting up to prepare yourself a lunch and eventually an early dinner, you managed to successfully sleep through the most horrific day of the year.

Eventually, it took its toll on you, because your head was throbbing by the time it was eight o’ clock that night.

When you heard the bell outside your door ring, you took it as an excuse to actually get up and at least be a human being for the day. You strapped on your leg and walked to the door. The bell rang again, and you screamed “Coming!”

Which you probably shouldn’t have done. You really were out of your own head that day, because there could only be two people outside waiting for you on Valentine’s day and neither of them you wanted to see possibly for the next few years.

Frozen, ever so slowly moving, you peeked through the eyehole.

Then that ice that froze you into the ground broke apart and you groaned when you saw it was just Jason with a shit-eating grin staring back at you at the peephole.

You opened the door.

“Happy Valentine’s day, pretty bird.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Can I come in?”

You didn’t want to be mean or unwelcoming, but you couldn’t stop yourself from groaning and rolling your eyes all over the ceiling as you swung the door wide open. Jason, knowing exactly what went on, just snickered and took off his coat.

“You brought booze?”

“I brought booze.”

Two bottles. He held them up and that same shit-eating grin still hadn’t left his face. You shut the door behind you and went with him to the kitchen.

He opened one for you and you went through a quarter of the whole thing in one go.

“Woah, woah, slow down there.”

“You know what you got yourself into coming here on Valentine’s day. You come to mock me?”

He opened his own bottle and drank. “No. Maybe. But I thought it’d be better than being alone after four whole weeks of you practically disappearing from the face of the earth.”

“So I changed my number,” you shrugged. “You do it all the time.”

“Yeah, except Bruce doesn’t exactly want to pry on you like he does with me. And with Tim and Dick laying low, I thought I’d take one for the team.”

“Take one for the team?” You scoffed. “What are you, some goat they sacrificed?”

“Come on, don’t see it that way. We’re all worried about you.”

“If you wanted to know how I was, your whole family of vigilantes could just easily follow me around the whole of Gotham.”

“I know, but we wanted to know how you really were.”

You took a long, much needed swig, then something pulled you to the floor. You sat on the edge of your bed.

Then you slipped, your ass landing on the floor. You laid your back against the bed frame and sighed with the bottle of booze in your hand.

“Fine. I lied. No one sent me here. I just thought I’d come by today. I know how much this day probably took its toll on you.”

“Believe me, it did,” you drank some more. Jason walked over and sat right beside you on the floor. “I haven’t gotten out of bed until you came.”

Jason chortled. “I don’t blame you. I’m not exactly a fan of heart’s day, either.”

“Really?”

“Nah. Not one gift. Never sent anything to anyone.”

“Not even to Rose?”

Jason took a swig at that. “We spent Valentine’s massacring an entire ship’s worth of goons.”

“Romantic.”

“Better than some date serving this capitalist excuse to consume.”

“You’re too cynical for your own good.”

“And you’re not cynical when you probably should be.”

“I am,” you drank. “In a way.”

Your empty bottle was on the ground, and you looked up at the ceiling. You were there an hour, maybe more. Jason let himself get drunk as well and laid his elbows on the bed since he was tall enough.

“This probably isn’t what you want to talk about,” he burped. “But I’m assuming what happened with Tim and Dick wasn’t what you expected.”

“I hate them,” you growled. “God, I fucking hate them both.”

“Shit. How bad was it?”

“Those two assholes must have thought I was dead after how much I ignored their calls, texts, emails, everything.”

“It’s been four weeks. They probably found out by now that you’re… well… alive.”

“I can't believe their own kindness and selflessness brought this out. Tim wants nothing to do with me and Dick’s having the time of his life in California with his perfect would-have-been wife.”

“That bad, huh?”

Your bottle tipped over on the floor and you didn’t pick it up. “I hope you don’t hate me for wanting to murder both your brothers.”

“Don’t worry,” Jason laughed. “I’m not exactly far off from your loathing for those two nutjobs.”

You raised a brow. “Something happen?”

“They told on Bruce, and he practically disowned me that last time we went on patrol. I crossed the line, or whatever it is they like to call it. I haven’t seen them in weeks. Haven’t called them either. They say they want me on the family and they pull shit like that ‘cuz apparently the consequences will help.”

“Makes two of us.”

“Exactly why I’m here.”

He nudged your shoulder, and you were surprised you were still sober after all that when you didn’t exactly feel like throwing up just yet. You groaned, head against the mattress.

And with that, you turned over to face him, who had the same, exhausted look on his face. Eyes closed. Arms up on the bed. Really veiny looking arms that made his shirt pull up and tighten around his chest.

“You don’t have to choose, you know…”

“I know. But it doesn’t help how-“

“You want to choose.”

You wanted to drive that bottle down your throat at that question.

“I want to. I don’t want to. You know I can't answer that.”

“And they’re lucky you can’t.”

Your head against your sheets, you watched him face you in turn. He was so close to you right then. You could smell his breath. You could feel his breath. And it was there. That beauty. The one that understood so much about you that you hadn’t understood yourself.

“You don’t have to choose if you don’t want to…” he whispered. “Fuck them. You’ve been hurt too much. You don’t have to get hurt any more. Choose to not get hurt.”

Eyes on him, quietly lingering on every scar on his skin.

If there was one thing that separated Jason from his brothers, it was his scars. The ones that littered his face. They had the same hair. Same blue eyes.

But Jason had marks on his eyebrow, his cheek, his lips. And he was so beautiful because of those.

“You understand…” you breathed against his mouth.

Jason’s eyes were on yours, but you saw how they darted over to your lips.

“I understand hurting myself… for others…”

His arm, it found its way past your head. And you knew because you felt his fingers sneak onto your hair behind you. You bit your lip, turned your torso so you could face him better.

“I can't blame them…” He started playing with your hair. “If I was in love with you, I’d be as god-awfully stupid as they are, no doubt.”

That made you laugh. “Thank you, then. For not being in love with me.”

“You're welcome.”

Oh God, the way he said that. His low, breathy, husky voice. It made you fucking vibrate and your hair starting sticking out the back of your neck. And then, all you could see, all you could feel, was how close he was to you. He was the sexiest fucking thing you’ve ever seen. It might have been the booze, which you doubted. Because you felt so lightheaded and all the pain was just sitting there and all you wanted was just some kind of release.

Jason’s eyes, as obvious as they were, couldn’t keep darting down your shirt, as well. And you realized you weren’t even wearing a bra.

It made you stick your chest out even further, so you’d watch him watch you.

Booze breath against booze breath. Your lips met so sloppily and messily, and only for the shortest, briefest moment, because Jason was already making his way down your jaw, your neck, biting onto your skin.

There. The blur. That silent, ringing noise. Jason’s tongue lapped over the skin on your collar bone and everything that went on in your head for the past few months were just thrown out the window that very instant. His hands were on you. All over you.

And finally, the body you’ve lusted after for so many years¸ the body you’ve only gotten to see and drool over and fantasize on nights when you were lonely and all those days of wanting to touch every part, every ripple of his chest when you see him fresh from the gym. You practically ripped his shirt off and your hands couldn’t stop for a second ravishing every bit of his skin. And it was just as good as you’ve always longed and imagined.

Jason squeezed onto your hip, and with how he touched you, you thought maybe he’d felt the same. It hurt to pull away, but Jason was holding you, hoisting you up on the bed, then you were kneeling on the mattress, his hands on your waist just begging for you to be against him so close. You were there for so long, watching, touching, enjoying his body just as he did with yours. He held your face so gently and kissed you.

You held his arms, barely being able to hold them with how large they were compared to yours. And even with the light so dim, this orange, unintentionally beautiful dim, you took off your shirt. And for a second, just for a second, he watched how your breasts looked being held in his hands.

Everything was moving way too fast but you couldn’t have wanted it any other way. None of this needed a build-up, or a slow burning of a wick. Anything more, any longer and it would actually have to mean something, and with that, it brought hurt. It wasn’t a bomb that needed days just to explode. It just needed to happen, at least for just that moment.

You moaned, but he kissed you before you could cry out anything more. Lips first, then it didn’t take long for him to trail down to your nipples. Your arms were around his neck and you pulled him back up, kissing him because you just needed it. This sweet, all too sweet release.

“Wait…” Jason whispered. He held your wrists, but he didn’t pull them away. He looked at you and his forehead was all creased up.

“This your first time?”

You nodded, swallowed, then hoped it wouldn’t drive him away.

“Are you sure you want this?”

You kissed him in response.

Then he pushed you onto bed.

------

A/N: WHERE MY TEAM JAY BABIES AT

-----

MASTERLIST | 3 BIRDS 1 STONE MASTERLIST

-----

MAIN TAGLIST:

@everyartistwas-firstanamateur, @sarcasmismyfirstlove, @damned-queen-of-gotham, @idkmanicantenglish, @wunderstell, @birdy-bat-writes, @get-loki, @everyday-imfangirling, @comic-nerd-dc, @multifandomgirl-us, @icequeen208, @offendedfishnoises, @egdolan, @xemiefx, @arkhamtoddler, @elsenthal, @mythicbitchx, @lucy-roo, @roseangel013bf, @loxbbg, @reclusive-chicken-nugget, @l-inkage, @http-cherries, @river9noble, @zphilophobiaz, @annoylinglyaries, @knightfall05x, @hyp-oh-critical, @satan-s-ass, @1-800-starmora, @flowersgirl02, @nahcho, @thatonecroc, @trixie-bb, @daddyissuesmademe, jasonsbitch, @shadowsndaisies @jaybirdbooty @writing2sirvive

SERIES TAGLIST:

@spaceservicestation, @thedeadlythoughts, @vanessafabricius, @pinkforest05

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multiplefandomsblog · 3 years

Note

your roommate hcs are so cute, can i request for naib, demi, tracy, andrew, kurt, patricia, and victor?

:0 holy crap yes! I’m so glad you enjoyed the roommate hcs!! Me and the other mods hope you enjoy these! Thank you for requesting :))

(i added melly because why not? lmao hope you don’t mind.)

Part 1!

Naib Subedar

This man deadass didn’t know you were living with him

Even when people told him about it, he wasn’t rlly paying attention and didn’t rlly care

Your stuff in his room? He thought it was his or someone just broke into his room and left it there

When he saw you on the toilet however, he just freaked out.

“Why the hell are you shitting in my room!?” “Your room? I’ve been living here for 2 months!”

Once he found out you lived with him, he made sure you knew what was his and what was yours

also, since he’s very protective of his things-- you being one of them-- he would totally get jealous if he caught you tallking to someone that wasn’t him.

he would probably give you the silent treatment and act like a pissy baby

He hates it when you touch his stuff

especially his photos, the photos were special to him because they were of him and his army friends.

You’d sometimes catch him looking at the photos with a longing in his eyes, it was highkey sad.

having you live with him meant lots and lots of training

he made sure you were always prepared for matches and that you don’t get downed early

when you got downed early however, He would scold you but he would still rescue you anyways because he’s soft

“You’re such an idiot, you’d better do better next time! Or else I’ll kick your ass.”

one time he got cocky while kiting because you were watching him

he forgot to turn on his elbow pads and face palmed into the wall.

“...You saw nothing.” He turned around, a bit woozy from hitting his head on a wall. He flipped the hunter off before stumbling wooshing away

When you first get to know naib, he’d probably come off as intimidating and menacing

but once you get to know him--the real him--, you start to understand that even though he may be tough on you, its because he wants you to be the best

he has good intentions

During matches he’d let you handle yourself and made sure you didn’t rely on him too much

One time you needed to shower but you ran out of your shampoo so you used his.

When he questioned you, you simply responded “What? You don’t need it anyways, you’re bald!”

He didn’t rescue you the next round.

should’ve seen that coming

though he forgives you when you braid his luscious long existent hair for him

Kurt Frank

The amount of times you almost stepped on this man is astronomical.

he would constantly be in his tiny form because he would lose a lot of his things

his tiny form helped him find his things easily

Though when you first moved in with him, you had no idea what his ability was

so when you first saw a tiny version of your roommate you thought he was just a weird doll

until you heard him say a tiny, “Hey can you move your ginORMOUS foot? You’re stepping on my book.”

You fucking screeched and took off your shoe to try and kill him

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH”“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH”

After he explained to you about his ability you calmed down a bit and spared this tiny man but only this time!

Frank loves books, he probably filled your shared rooms with stacks on stacks of books

You’d often see him tiny, waving at you while you’re decoding

Once you overhead Kurt arguing with First Officer over who was the rightful owner of some sort of treasure map

They fought for days,

kurt would constantly complain about it to you

turns out it was just a game on the back of a Cereal box.

sorry this is short like kurt

Tracy Reznik

Would be a little awkward at first, but the awkwardness slowly fades away when you both make bad jokes

she gives me childhood best friend vibes

Has her doll sitting in the corner of your shared room room, it’s lifeless eyes scare the living shit out of you in the dark you try not to make eye contact, afraid it’ll curse you or smth

if she was mad at you she would move the bot in a way that looked like it was flipping you off you off in your direction before you went to bed.

Always making little robot things that are super fun to play with

Loves sharing her things. Has no problem with it

you wanna wear her clothes? sure

you want to wear her underwear? evEN BETTER-

Pulling all nighters, trying to get her machines to work like how she wanted it to work.

Would live off of kraft Mac n cheese and junk food in the modern day

Pretty hyper, chugs pink monster energy drinks while pulling all nighters, also, in the modern day

would probably be a bruh girl

Her room is a mess, covered with blueprints and scrap metal

her room is practically a safety hazard

Sometimes she dresses her doll up a bit, putting wigs or her old clothes on it (which scares you half to death)

Once she made her doll dress up like her

and you almost went up to it to ask what it wanted for dinner.

Has a photo of her and her dad

You never wanted to bring it up, worried it might make her upset :(

Sometimes she’d feel really guilty about being downed in the first 30 seconds

please comfort her, she feels super bad

She always relies on you to rescue her

She gets really happy and thankful when you body block for her but she still gets a bit concerned when you do it randomly

“i wasn’t even kiting-” “Protecc the mecc.”

Demi Bourbon

Always out at the bar

Smells like alcohol constantly

tipsy 24/7

she’s never 100% sober

You have to hold her hair out of her face when she comes back to your shared room to hurl

Likes bringing back hard vodka or weird flavoured alcohols back for you guys to get wasted try together

Room is bit cluttered, but she doesn’t have much in her room since she’s always out in bars or matches

Usually latches onto you like a parasite when she’s drunk.

it gets a bit awkward when her face is a bit close to yours,

“Are we about to kiss right now-? BLeurghgrhgherrgh.”“...*audible sigh*”

You’d go to her expecting her to heal you like a normal person but no

instead she shoves dovlin down your throat

She likes to do your makeup, and always adds a matching beauty mark

unless you don’t wear makeup, then she’d ask you to do hers

always loves how she looks afterwards

more than sometimes demi would get into bar fights,

so you know she’s about to throw hands when she starts takes off her earrings-

10/10 would fight for you <3

She’s gives me cool wine aunt vibes

Probably a lesbian too (check out our Demi smut fic ;))

Or bi, idk

Just straightn’t

She’s really good at hyping you up, especially when you’re taking shots

“CHUG CHUG CHUG CHUG-”

Andrew Kreiss

Would be very shy at first, opens up a little when you get to know him

Totally a night owl, can’t sleep at night from all the guilt and “what if’”s

if you see this baby awake at night, hug him, he really needs it

You’ve never seen the other side of his face

How does he see with hair in his eyes?

He’s albino, which is super dope

Sometime you fear he’s thinking about burying you

You always see him thwacking Luca with his shovel

Barely talks

Room is moderate

He doesn’t want you to find out too much about him

He may seem bland, but he loves sweet food

You’d bake him cookies and other sweets

He’d act as if he’s not embarrassed and brush it off

“Are you blushing?”“No, I-I’m sunburnt.” “On your face?” “....I stare into the hot red sun sometimes because it eases me.”

to keep his lie going, every time he catches you staring at him he would fry his eye balls by staring into the sun until you left

partially the reason why he can’t see well

When he’s not looking, you stare at him while he’s eating the stuff you made because he looks so happy :’)

One time you found him down in the dumps so you made him a cup of coffee, and when you handed it to him you said-

“Depresso espresso?”

*sniff* ”..are you oka-” “IM NOT CRYING, YOU ARE”

he actually cried

it was such a nice gesture(?), that he started ugly crying

You’d ask him if he wanted hugs during matches when you see him get stressed

He’d be flushed and kinda confused

hug... him? why tho lmao

he’d definitely agree tho, to be fair, with some hesitation

if y’all ever cuddled in bed, i feel like he’d be a little spoon

poor boy needs the comfort, he wouldn’t mind if you wanted to be little spoon tho

he just wants to be close to you

Victor Grantz

You love playing with his dog, Wick

Super nice and polite, but a little guarded

The type to be too afraid to call people out when they do something wrong but would totally trash them in his head

You write him little letters everyday and leave them on his bed to make him happy :))

He’d a be a little spoon

Wick would always join you guys while cuddling

Kisses would be soft and gentle

Usually sends you the first letter in matches

Loves to cuddle

He bb 🥰

You always get him a birthday present AND a Christmas present

You also get a gift for Wick

He loves giving you surprise hugs

Likes to read with you while cuddling

Literally a cinnamon roll

Once he was eating a cinnamon roll

And you whispered

“C a n n i b a l i s m .”

He was very confused

and kind of scared- were you going to eat him?

Patricia Dorval

Room always smells like herbs

She could literally smoke weed and you’d think it’s some magical healing herb

it magically makes you feel better

Always there to stun the hunter when you’re ballooned

The mature one

Her room is organized, with boxes labeling what herbs and magic stuff that are in them

You were cooking dinner for the day and you accidentally used one of her fancy herbs in your soup

She didn’t realize until she tried the soup

She wasn’t mad just disappointed

She lectured you on how you shouldn’t touch her stuff or use it for cooking

Gotta admit tho, the soup was pretty good

she acts like the mom everyone wishes they had

totally the type to be like, “dude we should think this through.” before doing something risky

and then five seconds later, “cowABUNGA MY DUDES”

one time she caught kreacher leaving the mens washroom without washing his hands

seeing as she was the mother of this manor, she had to protect her children from diseases

so she yeeted her monkey skull at kreachers head, cleanly knocking him out

and everybody cheered.

Melly Plinius

When you heard melly was going to be your roomie, you couldn’t have been more excited.

you finally had a victim for the many insect pick up lines!

So you decided to make some good first impressions by waiting for her in your room.

so when she arrived to your room and greeted you, you happily greeted her back, and slipped in the pick up line.

“Hello, my name is Melly. I believe I will be your ro-?”“Yeah nice to meet you too, say, what do bees make?”

She kinda thought you were a bit rude so much for first impressions

“...Erm, honey?” she replied hesitantly

“YES DEAR?”

... okay maybe you weren’t thaaaat bad.

after that she kind of developed a teensy crush on you

so it was hard living with you because of her crush, since she was constantly flustered

you loved her reactions, she constantly got red.

it was funny watching her try to keep her cool and fail.

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woodrokiro · 3 years

Text

Do It For the Band, Part Five (fic)

Fandom: Bleach

Pairing: IchiRuki:

Summary: When Tatsuki said she wanted their sophomore album to be the next Rumours, this is NOT what she meant. Band AU. Read Part One, Two, Three, and Four.

Against her better judgement, Tatsuki takes an early flight home the next morning, so she really doesn’t know what went down.

Frankly, between battling her colossal hangover and focusing on not puking on the plane when it hits turbulence: she doesn’t even think about it until later in the week.

Since the tour ended, the band has a week off to just chill and take some time for themselves before regrouping and planning their next move. Tatsuki goes straight home to smoke weed and binge dumb movies on her to-watch queue. Chad and Orihime had plans to stay in their last tour city for a while since they had friends and family there.

And as for Ichigo and Rukia…

Who knows. They’re both such dorks that they’re probably that gross couple who serenade each other in bed, naked, making weird metaphorical lyrics about the sex they just had.

Gross. But kind of sweet.

She makes a point to not think about or reach out to any of them (besides Orihime, of course) the entire week - not that she doesn’t love her team fiercely, but they all need the break away from each other... Especially after they spent all their time together making the album and going on tour, and especially if Ichigo decides to show one of his new Rukia-love ballads to the band upon their return.

Still, she attempts to check in with Ichigo on the fifth day over text.

How ya doin’, tiger?

He doesn’t respond for a few hours, but she doesn’t think much of it. He’s always been sort of a shitty texter, and there’s a strong chance all the raucous love-making isn’t reminding him to check his phone.

She’s on the fourth episode of Terrace House’ newest season, debating whether one of the cast members is a chaotic queen or absolute garbage when she hears the familiar ping of a text message on her phone. She picks it up and reads:

Fine.

Huh.

Not exactly the sunshine-y answer she expected, but then again: it’s Ichigo. He’s not exactly a sunshine-y person, even when - apparently - he’s radiantly happy.

She shrugs, deciding not to push it. She’ll find out soon enough how everything’s going when they have practice in a couple days.

Practice is in Chad’s garage, and Ichigo, Chad, and Orihime are already there.

She mostly chats with Orihime, who has so much to update her on about her newest recipes, like natto ice cream and sriracha orange juice, and hey, Tatsuki, what are your thoughts on this newest article I found about robots dominating the planet within the next five years?

Tatsuki glows in the babble, chuckling when she can’t help herself. Says the first sounds… Interesting, the second sounds like maybe she can keep revising it a little, and that last article sounds like it might be from a not so trust-worthy news source.

Her friend tries to argue the source’s credibility when she looks over at Ichigo. He’s silently tuning his guitar, head bent and posture weirdly… Slumped when she catches his eye.

She raises her eyebrows at him without interrupting Orihime’s chatter. You good?

He shrugs, gives a weak smile and thumbs up before returning his attention back to his instrument.

Uh oh.

Ichigo Kurosaki does not do weak smiles… Or thumbs ups, for that matter.

It’s another few minutes before Rukia swings the door open, a bit of a sweaty mess and running out of breath.

“Hi all, I’m so sorry I--”

“You’re late.”

Everyone swings their attention to Ichigo, who observes their keyboardist stone-faced. The shocked silence that follows is short, but suffocating.

Rukia flushes before she blinks, raising her chin. “Yes. As I was saying… I’m sorry I’m running late, everyone. I had a lunch meetup with an old friend that went longer than expected. Please forgive me.”

“Chill, Rukia - you’re fine. You’re only five minutes over.” Tatsuki shoots a look at Ichigo, who’s still ruthlessly eye-ing daggers into Rukia.

What the hell…?

“... Whatever. Let’s just get started. Go over everything to catch back up to speed, and all that.” Ichigo plugs his guitar into the speaker, and Rukia nods as she quickly sets up her keyboard.

Practice from there is…

Like. It’s good. It is. Despite the long break, everyone is still on top of their shit: Tatsuki’s beats are muscle memory by now, and Chad is as on it as he ever was. Ichigo and Rukia are in perfect sync, per usual.

The energy, however, is another story. While there was always some sort of joy and excitement when they all played together, now it’s like the air is stiff, heavy. From behind, Tatsuki can see Rukia keeps trying to look at Ichigo during all the parts they usually harmonize together, to get some sort of connection.

Ichigo doesn’t even remotely glance her way the entire time.

They’re near done with the entire set when Ichigo clears his throat, turning to the rest of them. Urahara has joined them by this point, watching with an unreadable smile as ever.

“So… I think we should scrap Sun and Moon from our main set.”

Orihime lets out a soft gasp. Chad’s fingers accidentally let loose a note on the live bass. Tatsuki chokes on her spit.

“Sun and Moon? You mean our crowd pleaser? The one we always end shows with a bang on?”

“It’s not our only crowd pleaser, we’ve also got some other great ones. I’m just afraid it’s gonna be a one-hit wonder, ya know? And with that note…” He turns to Urahara. “What do you think about us going ahead and starting to write for our sophomore album?”

They gape at him.

Even Urahara raises his eyebrows. “That’s… Well. That was fast.”

“Is it? Our album is more like EP, anyway - just a little longer. Like a warm-up. And it’s good, of course I’m proud of it - everyone worked so hard on it - but, just… Why not start now? Why not take advantage of the momentum we’ve got going on?”

Rukia clears her throat. “Ichigo, that’s… We’ve got such a good grip on what we have -”

“I just think Soul Vibes is static for us. Outdated.” He quickly looks back at her before returning his attention to Urahara.

Rukia looks like she’s been slapped.

“I think we’re more dynamic now, even just in these few short months. And yeah it’s fast, but - we have time, right? To get started on writing?”

“I suppose so.” Urahara looks at Tatsuki and Chad, who both shrug. Something’s really off here, but Tatsuki sort of sees his point. It’s clear Ichigo’s raring to write something new… Why not?

“Sure, if you’d like, I can make some arrangements with the music studio. You and Rukia can go in there and--”

“Actually, I was thinking we can work on some stuff alone before presenting it to the group.” He stops Tatsuki when she begins to sputter. “Look, I know the whole reason for pairing Rukia and I for songwriting was to get us working as a team. But we’re fine now…”

Ichigo looks back at Rukia, and they share a look that’s so… Tatsuki doesn’t know what it is, but she sees Rukia swallow heavily in response.

“We’re fine now.” He repeats grittily. He starts again, stronger: “We collaborated on some cool shit, now I think it’s time to make it a little more diverse like I mentioned earlier. Have my songs, have her songs, have Chad’s songs if he still wants - all threaded together with Tatsuki’s beats. Why not?”

The room is quiet as they contemplate it. It’s not a bad idea, but…

Tatsuki glances over at Rukia, who’s looking down at her hands.

Urahara clicks his tongue.

“Well, Kurosaki, you raise a good argument. I don’t see why not, and I’m not hearing any objections… Just one thing: you’re not striking Sun and Moon quite yet. No arguments! Hear me out.” He stops Ichigo with a hand. “You’re not striking it until any of you come up with a song just as good, if not better. There’s power in that one, you can’t deny it. Make something as rock n’ roll as that and the team will talk. Let’s just… Keep each other in the know, all right?”

The band - Rukia included, albeit softly - agrees, and they start to pack up.

Tatsuki doesn’t know what’s going on; she’s always down for making more jams, she knows Ichigo and Rukia have got more up their sleeves, that Chad definitely deserves to put more of his stuff forward - but that… Look the two vocalists shared…

What happened that night after she left the bar?

She doesn’t have much time to wonder, however, because suddenly she’s shaken out of her thoughts when she hears Ichigo approaching Orihime about whether she wants to go out and get a couple of drinks.

Tatsuki’s heart is too busy falling to see Rukia’s stricken face.

#my stuff #ichiruki #bleach #ichigo kurosaki #rukia kuchiki #do it for the band

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imagine-overwatch-heroes · 3 years

Text

Thistles and Weeds

Pairing: McCree x Reader (She/Her) Rating: Teen and up Audiences Word Count: 3194 Summary: Soldier 76 pulls you off an upcoming mission and you stay in Gibraltar - just like the infamous Jesse McCree. Supposedly you can't stand the cowboy, but there's more to it than that.

Bored, you balanced the pen on your hand, barely listening as the commander explained the situation and assigned the roles for the upcoming mission. The briefing was more boring than usual and if Soldier:76 wasn't such a strict commander you would have put your boots on the table and leaned back. But woe betide the one who messed with the mysterious commander, then there was usually house arrest and so much punishment work that you were busy for the next three weeks. "Am I boring you?" Everyone suddenly stared at you, and you looked up from your playfulness with the pencil, scrutinized the annoyed faces around you, and froze at the impatient, angry aura of Soldier:76. "Not, Sir!" you replied and looked forward to the screen. The tactical advance for the mission was recorded there and you tried to make sense of it, but without much success. Which of those little arrows were you again? "All right, you're out," growled Soldier:76 and made a sweeping hand movement. "I'll take Tracer instead." "What?!" you shouted angrily and jumped up from your chair. "I have been looking forward to this action for weeks! I've been stuck in this stuffy base for ages-" "Silence!!", thundered your Commander and you immediately fell silent, but gnashed your teeth furiously. "If you feel like the briefing is unworthy of you, then you will not come. Dismissed." You stared at him for a moment, opened your mouth in protest - but denied yourself the biting answers. He was your superior, your commander, and an objection would be disrespectful and have serious consequences. "Yes, Sir." you rumbled and turned around and disappeared from the conference room under the gaze of the other agents. Anger bubbled in your stomach as you stepped to the elevator. You banged your fist violently on the button and waited for the doors to open. You just did a fantastic job, there was an interesting mission and you were stuck here in Gibraltar! To make matters worse, the base was virtually deserted, as almost all of the other agents were in the field. Only Tracer, Mercy, Hanzo and McCree were still there and now Tracer would take part in this mission instead of you. It made your blood boil. The elevator door opened and you stared into a familiar face, even if it wasn't necessarily your best friend. "Hanzo, hello." you greeted the archer with a friendly nod, but he just raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms as you entered the elevator. "You are angry." he remarked softly and you rolled your eyes next to him. Why were the Shimada brothers so good at reading people? "76 took me off the mission." you murmured softly and Hanzo snorted an amused snort. He knew about your temperament and your disinterest in the conferences and briefings. It wasn't the first time you had messed up a mission before it even started. "So you'll be alone with McCree all week." he said with a hint of gloating in his voice. "I hope that the base is still standing when I get back." "Wait, what?", you dug in, suddenly wide awake at his words. "You're leaving too?!" He nodded. "Genji asked for some help with the operation in Brazil." he replied. "I have accepted." "But- You can't leave me alone with this idiot cowboy!" you begged immediately, tugging at his sleeve. "Hanzo, please! This badly aiming poncho idiot is-" "Is what, exactly?" The door to the elevator had opened and you saw the hat, the poncho and the crooked grin. Your voice must have been too loud, because Jesse McCree had overheard everything. He looked at you, seemed to want you to finish the sentence. You pulled the corners of your mouth down and moaned in annoyance, while Hanzo could hardly resist a quiet laugh. Your tiffs with McCree were all too familiar to everyone in the base, you were really like cat and mouse. He loved to tease and your huge ego collided with his almost daily. Several times it had ended in fisticuffs, and in the end, you always ended up sitting with Mercy in pairs, getting patched up and scolded by her loud and clear. At times it had become so bad that Soldier:76 could no longer assign you to a mission together. Sure, it was unprofessional - but Jesse McCree was the biggest pain on the planet! "Oh, he's a really lousy shot, and even with a plastic pistol I'd have him on the mat in less than two minutes." you finally finished your sentence, and McCree snorted mockingly, one hand on his Peacekeeper. "Try it." he replied, and Hanzo immediately slid between the two of you, one hand on your shoulder and one on McCree's chest. "Enough." he said emphatically, giving the cowboy a challenging look. "Jesse, I thought we were going to train. But if you'd rather argue with her--" "You'd better teach that cowboy something else," you hissed and looked at the dirty poncho disparagingly. "Or he'll hurt himself on his next ride!" "Is that the best you can do?" he growled in return and tapped his hat. "Real weak - even for you, sweetheart." You immediately wanted to reply to the 'sweetheart', but Hanzo already pushed Jesse to the shooting range and you had no choice but to give him the middle finger and go to your quarters with an angry growl stuck in your throat.

"A real tomboy, huh?", Jesse asked as he looked at you and Hanzo turned his eyes on his friend. "If you like her so much, why do you wind her up like that all the time?" the archer asked, entering the code to the shooting range on the control panel of the door. Jesse, on the other hand, was still staring down the hall, almost as if he hoped you'd come back and throw more insults at his head. "You know very well she's very hot-headed." "Yup, she really is," the cowboy agreed and followed Hanzo to the training area, which was located under the base and was used much more often by Hanzo than by Jesse McCree. "And a real beauty, too." Hanzo gave him a quick glance out of the corner of his eye and put on his gloves, running his fingers over the string of his bow. "You should be nicer to her," he said softly, tensing the bowstring a few times, pulling his arm back and staying in that position to warm up his muscles. "She has no idea that the badly aiming poncho idiot gets a watery mouth when he thinks of her." "Hah, you got me there!" Jesse confessed and pulled his revolver out of the holster, took a quick look inside and nodded contentedly. "She's a real eye-catcher, that girl." Hanzo didn't answer, but instead pulled an arrow out of his quiver and tensed the string, held his breath - and hit the mark. The easy-to-repair training robots were not real enemies, but they were enough to warm up. Hanzo took another arrow and hit the next head shot perfectly, as well as the third and fourth. Jesse watched the whole thing silently, took a puff from his cigar every now and then, and seemed to be a little lost in thought. "The mission scheduled for the day after tomorrow," Hanzo suddenly said, looking at his friend with a mischievous smile. "Soldier:76 has grounded her." "No way!" it fell from McCree's lips and he stared at the archer in amazement. So would you stay here at the base? While the otherwise eternally bouncing tracers and D.Va were also in the field? "I guess she was messing with the commander again," Hanzo continued, watching as Jesse straightened his hat and threw the poncho over his shoulder, holding the revolver in place. "The day just keeps getting better and better..." the cowboy murmured, and he took aim, held his breath for a split second - and fired. Two, three, four and five robots disintegrated into a pile of scrap metal, while Jesse gloated over the coming days. Oh, this would be such fun!

Two days later, you were sitting in the evening sun of Gibraltar in a bad mood, trying not to get too upset about the mosquitoes and the stuffy weather. The base was actually emptier than ever before and you tried with all means not to let your anger get the upper hand. Instead of sitting around here, you could be on your way to Italy right now - but no, you had to be stuck in that dusty sea of cliffs and caustic encounters with the cowboy. McCree was even more annoying than usual, now that Hanzo had left the base as well and apparently he was bored. The fitting of his new prosthetic arm kept him here with you, otherwise he would probably have flown to Italy instead of Tracer with Soldier:76, Winston, Reinhardt and some other agents. "Hey, beautiful." Speak of the devil. You heard the deep, smoky voice and the metallic clang of spurs behind you, and yet you didn't even bother to look up. "What do you want?" you asked coolly, but Jesse didn't let your dismissive manner get in the way, stopped beside you and took a deep puff of his cigar to blow the smoke into the evening sun. "Hanzo is not here" he replied. "I could use a substitute partner for practice." "Usually they have to drag you to the shooting range with force." "Come on, sweetheart, don't leave me hanging." he tried again and your stomach lurched once more at the nicknames he gave you. "Sweetheart", "Beauty" and "Love". This cursed, tempting cowboy would drive you out of your mind again! You'd love to sink your fingers into that brown hair and have him above you while he whispered naughty things in your ear in a dark voice... "Get lost," you growled instead and crossed your arms in front of your chest. You would never give in to temptation, especially not this man! He looked at every woman with growing enthusiasm, whistling appreciatively when she had a nice rack, and that pissed you off for a long time. If he was looking for a bed bunny after all, you were not to be had for that! "Do I have to beg on my knees before you?" Finally you looked up to him and under the shadow of the brim of your hat you saw two brown eyes looking at you with a provocative look. As theatrically as possible you groaned and held out your hand to him, which he immediately took and pulled you up from the ground. "Half an hour." you agreed. "Because I can't bear you any longer!"

"Welcome." Athena greeted both of you at the shooting range and on one of the monitors your statistics from last time appeared. "The usual setup, Agent?" "No, Athena, thank you," you replied to the AI, looking at your training partner. "Standard, please." "Of course." the pleasant voice of the program was heard over the training area. Life came into the little robots and they began to roam around, ignoring you. "A special setup, huh?" McCree asked teasingly, and you waved aside, not wanting to tell him that you were planning on doing target practice at every opportunity. "Let's see what you can do," you said, leaning against the wall behind you. You didn't mean to start, no. If the cowboy wanted to practice, then he should start! "Hold this." To your great amazement you got the red poncho pressed into your arms and you looked at McCree, who in his tight black shirt pulled the gun out of the holster. On such hot days he didn't wear his bulletproof breastplate and the black shirt emphasized his muscular stature, letting you swallow briefly against your dry mouth. Damn sexy cowboy! "You don't have to undress right away," you hissed angrily and although you wanted to sound as annoyed as possible, your voice was much higher than usual. A quick sideways glance from brown eyes silenced you and you watched his movements closely. He lifted his Peacekeeper up and you saw him narrow his eyes for a moment, finally emptying all six chambers in one seemingly single, flowing movement. Six robots collapsed, McCree tilted his head and made his neck crack slightly. You had seen his extraordinary ability Deadeye several times before and yet, it impressed you every time. You could call him a bad shooter as often as you wanted, Jesse McCree always hit his target. The drinking, smoking cowboy with the silly hat and spurs on his boots was an impressive man whether you liked it or not. But you certainly wouldn't rub that fact in his face! "Your turn, beautiful." He threw his revolver at you and surprised you stumbled forward, the poncho in your arms and with noisiness you caught his gun. He nodded invitingly to the new group of robots that were just making their way in through one of the flaps to the workshop. "It's way too heavy for me!" you growled and threw his poncho at McCree in return, and he put it aside, but shook his head at your statement. "Nonsense." he replied, and just as you were putting new bullets into the chambers, he stepped behind you and looked over your shoulder. The smell of tobacco and the cowboy himself beguiled you for a fraction of a second and you took a step forward to escape from his immediate vicinity. "I'll show you." Shocked, you flinched as you felt a cold hand on your left shoulder and his real, warm hand gripped your wrist to lift the revolver. "You know I don't work with these bulky, heavy weapons," you muttered, concentrating all your efforts not to blush and keeping your pulse under control. He was much too close to you, you could feel his body heat and feel his breath on the sensitive skin of your neck. "Doesn't mean you can't handle it, huh?" you heard the smoky voice in your ear and his upper body pressed against your back. He lifted your right arm a little, corrected the position of your shoulder a little, and finally leaned completely against you to secure your stance from the recoil. "Aim well over the rear sight, you have no sight here." "I know...!", you hissed irritably and tried to concentrate on your target, but it was quite difficult to aim when hard muscles were pressing against your back. "You're way too tense, why don't you relax your shoulders?" "Shut up!" You pulled the trigger and wow! - this fucking heavy gun had a tremendous recoil! Your second shot even missed the target and a deep growl in your chest expressed your frustration about it. You rarely missed, but Peacekeeper was far too heavy for your untrained hands. Your weapons were all riffles like Soldier's:76, there was not such a powerful recoil as McCree's choice of weapon. A third shot was fired and you were glad that his right hand stabilized your shoulder. Distracting or not, his upper body caught you and you didn't have to take an evasive step back. "It's fun, isn't it?" you heard him ask and you almost looked up at him with an approving smile, but just in time you made the smile disappear and shrugged your shoulders. Stay cool. "I have to admit, it's quite entertaining," you replied bored in a playful way, but he didn't buy it. McCree leaned down a little over your shoulder and the tips of his hair tickled your cheek. He was too close, it was way too close! "Jesse!," you growled and turned from his grip instantly. "Jesse?," he asked immediately, and the rough, dark laugh sent a pleasant goose bump down your neck. "You've never called me that before, dear." "Yes, I- Ah...", you tried to find words and talk your way out, because the sexy cowboy was unfortunately right: You had never called him by his first name before, it just sounded too familiar and not hostile enough for your everyday dances. "Don't crowd me." "What, you don't mind a little help with the shooting?" Again he came a step closer and you looked at him suspiciously, pressed the revolver into his hands and turned your head away, trying to rebuff him as hard as possible. "Or was it for any other reason?" Jesse McCree was a charmer with a silver tongue, he always knew exactly what to say to either freak you out or leave you speechless. You were a seasoned Overwatch agent, a tough woman who could get her way - but when the cowboy got that close to you, your knees went soft like butter. "Jesse McCree-!" you started a little rant. You took a step towards him and nudged his chest in anger, while he looked at you with just two amused sparkling eyes. "Are you suggesting that I'm really attracted to a complete idiot like you?" He silenced you by leaning the last piece towards you, bending down and his right hand grabbing your neck. He kissed you, pulled you to him and after the first second of the shock you put your hands against his chest to push him away from you. "Jesse-!," you shouted outraged, but he shook his head and nipped your protest in the bud with another kiss. That damned, tempting cowboy actually dared to kiss you just like that - and then he was so damn good at it, it was enough to drive you crazy! The stubble of his beard scratched slightly at your skin and you tasted the cold smoke of his cigars, but that hardly bothered you, because even if you deliberately denied it: you wanted Jesse McCree to kiss you. You wanted to feel his hand on your neck, how he pulled you a little closer to his upper body and that the kiss became more and more erratic and unstable with every second. It wasn't until a faint gasp came over your lips that you realized what it all meant and you leaned back and escaped his lips. "Sweet as honey..." he growled softly and in return he received a light slap on the shoulder from you. "What, it's true!" "Idiot." you muttered and rolled your eyes. He snorted, pressed a kiss on the corner of your mouth and grabbed your waist with his left arm to pull you a little closer. You let it happen, and yet your thoughts turned over; What was there between you? What was the reason why he kept getting on your nerves so much? "May I be your idiot then?" he asked, and he leaned down, kissed your neck, and his free hand played with a strand of your hair. Good question, did you agree inside. Was that it then? Was he your not so badly aiming, poncho-wearing idiot cowboy? "Let's see how long I can stand you," you muttered with wildly pounding hearts and your stomach made a backward somersault at the thought that this show-off man seemed to like you very much.

#overwatch imagines #jesse mccree x reader #jesse mccree #mccree x reader #female reader #she/her

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elliethesuperfruitlover · 4 years

Text

Sensual Soliloquies

A/N: This is the first time in a couple years that I’ve attempted writing any type of fanfiction, let alone smut. This is going to be extremely detailed as well, so try not to cream yourselves too early. I give the credit for the Klaus traveling in time shit to @badsext because of her Klaus x Nathan fic. Go read it, it’s quite lovely.

Warnings: smoking, detailed sexual actions, probably some cussing here or there, unprotected sex (wrap it up before you back it up), and threesome I guess if that counts

“Klaus, where the fuck are we?” you ask him, confused to no end.

“Um, Berlin, Germany. Some time in the far future, and the apocalypse of 2019 either happened and didn’t fuck anything up, or just didn’t happen.”

Klaus touched another fucking suitcase (he told you about the previous time, and the previous heartbreak) and somehow ended up transporting the both of you to Berlin. Everything around you is very neon, and drone-like machines fly by, carrying what seem to be food boxes. You two landed in an alleyway of what seemed to be a bigger building. There was an old fashioned looking car, and a concrete overhang type place. The “Only Employee” door gave off the vibe that you weren’t supposed to be there. Well, to be frank, you weren’t even supposed to be in that year.

“This place might be a strip club or a hooker joint.” Klaus points out, closing his eyes, deeply sighing.

“What makes you think that?” you ask, curious as to where he got that outlandish idea from. (Honestly it’s not the most outward idea he’s come up with since you’d met him.)

He points to the window, where there seemed to be a naked robot with exaggerated female features dancing on a pole. Through the window, there’s also people, presumably strippers, dancing on tables, shaking ass, getting handed money. It turns you on just a bit, because something about cellulite being pushed against tight clothing got you going. That thought process, however, got pushed aside when a person walked through the employee door, outside. They were alone. The person looked somewhat like Klaus for some odd reason, mostly in the face region. Blonde hair swooped into a low-grade emo fringe, what looked like plastic covered their forehead, a kimono with tassels, and a deconstructed suit vest with tight pants.

“Oh fuck, hide.” Klaus whispered as quiet as possible, prompting the both of you to dive behind the old car.

“The suitcase!” you thought, about to reach out to get it, but the person was already swaying their way towards you two. They, however, didn’t seem to notice you two, as they lit what looked to be a cigarette, and took a deep inhale.

The position that you find yourselves in proves to be quite compromising. Literally and figuratively. You were pushed up against Klaus’ groin area, as you couldn’t be choosers when about to be possible prosecuted. He groans lightly, trying to adjust you off of him, but that proves to be quite stupid as the person stops mid drag and calls out.

“Who’s there?” You have half of a mind to answer, but Klaus was just a tad drunk so he squeaked lightly.

“What the fuck?” they yell, looking to the source of the sound, only to find you and Klaus huddled together behind the car. The person seemed to have a slight accent, German, you suspect, and a higher pitch to their voice. Although that might be due to the fact that they were scared out of their fucking mind to find two people, one who looked like them behind a goddamn car.

The two of you come out from behind the car, like two children caught trying to steal candy. Klaus tries to put his hands in front of his crotch, as his bulge hadn’t faded yet. You were already willing to formulate the truth instead of a lie, it was Germany for fucks sake, and you didn’t know if they went back to the old ways.

“Please explain to me who the fuck you two are, why the fuck you’re hiding behind a car that isn’t yours, and why you have your hands in front of your pants, hon?” he says, nodding his cigarette over to Klaus, who blushes at those words.

“We-” Klaus starts, but he was drunk, and you didn’t want to cause any confusion.

“We come from the past, and the suitcase you saw on the ground is how we got here. It allows you to go to a specific place and time, typically to kill another person. Klaus, here, um, grabbed one in his stupor and here we are, in front of you. Might I ask, what year is it?” you said in one breath, about to be prepared to start running if this person had a hidden glock.

“It’s 2037 love. For starters, my name is Luba, I work at this strip joint here and as an escort, uh. Sorry, I’m just a little baffled, understandably. You know what, my shift ends in like 5 minutes, and my boss won’t mind if I leave early. How about I order some food for all of us because I can’t cook for shit, and we’ll talk over at my place. It doesn’t seem like you two planned anything ,so I’ll care for you two ‘til then.” he offers, looking at us with curiosity.

“That sounds good, but before that, could I please get a drag of that, might as well cross-fade in fucking Berlin. Maybe we’ll get Amsterdam next time.” Klaus asks, looking for approval.

Luba obliges, and the two of them make shared eye contact, and hand contact, which ends up being lingering. Oh, the thoughts running through your head at that moment in time. Naughty, very naughty indeed. You just meet Luba though, and he might not even be into chicks. He goes back inside, and tells the two of you to meet him up front, and you travel there, and he shows up exactly when the two of you were about to dip out.

“Come on, my place is just a walk from here, it shouldn’t tire the two of you out too much.” he says, starting to walk in a direction. You two follow him, hungry, cold, and of course horny.

The moment you two arrive at Luba’s apartment, the feeling of hippy isn’t uncommon. There were tapestries on the walls, and potted plants decorated the shelves. There was even an old fashioned bong sitting on the table, and it looked clean for the most part. It seemed like a very cozy place, and the serenity was only bound to end. The two of you lurked around very lightly, taking in the fact that the Nazis didn’t find you. Luba presumably went to his room to set his kimono and keys down, then he came in, only to find you and Klaus wandering around his living room, trying to figure out the vintage things from the modern ones.

“Hey, um, what do you too want for dinner? We can talk over it, and it doesn't take too long to order since everything is air-delivered,” he said, in which Klaus mumbled whatever’s fine, and you nodded along. “Chinese it is,”Luba says, typing into a little machine, and opening his living room window for the bot to come through.

The food couldn’t come soon enough because Klaus started to sweat and get the shakes, a clear symptom of his withdrawals. They’d been getting a little better, but ever since the cult fucked him over, he’d been drinking again. Plus, the 60’s were like the haven for every drug in existence. Klaus wanted to make sure he got the freshest Mary Jane whenever possible. You, on the other hand, tended to stay away from drugs, only drinking every now and then, and smoking weed only when you felt like it. It wasn’t a constant feeling, but sometimes it was stronger than others. All three of you made your ways to the kitchen, and looked out of the window until the bot announced itself, and dropped the food off on the coffee table with the bong on it.

“Thank god! Food’s here. Limes and cherries from cocktails only go so far y’know. And those peanuts, ugh, they’re stale and taste like sweat.” Luba says, ripping the box open on the kitchen island. The box contained what looked like non-cardboard containers filled with soup dumplings, lo mein noodles, a very small order of broccoli, crab rangoon, and a fuck garlic chicken. Luba pulled out a bottle of wine and some water in glasses.

The lot of you dug in quickly, as you and Klaus hadn’t eaten in a good 8 hours, and Luba had only eaten a small breakfast that morning. Between bites, you and Klaus explained how you two got in Germany, and your lives before that. He mentioned the Umbrella Academy and his siblings, even mentioning their powers. He was truly comfortable around Luba, he didn’t even mention his siblings when he first met you. They both even mentioned the fact that they look very similar, even though they’re years apart. The meal was stretching to a close, but Luba asked a very compromising question.

“What about the two of you, huh? I’ve been trying to figure out, with the small amount of time that I’ve known you two. Are you two friends or fuck buddies, hmm?” he asks, a sly smirk on his face as he sultrily wipes his mouth, and sets his napkin on his plate, steepling his hands under his chin. These words caused a blush to dust across the both of your cheeks, and out of the corner of your eye, you see Klaus adjusting his bulge as well as he could.

“We��re lovers, but started off as friends.” you answered, leaning forward, letting your cleavage become slightly visible. Sticking your ass out just enough to get Klaus riled up from beside you.

Luba nods in acknowledgement, then also adjusts himself from what you can see. You all put your plates away, making quick work of rinsing them, then placing them in the deep sink. Luba moves to the living room, sitting on his couch and spreading his legs just enough to make his bulge visible in those oh-so tight pants. You both sit on the side of him, trying to edge those naughty thoughts from your heads.

“So, are we gonna fuck or what?” Luba asks casually, looking between the two of you, glancing at your lips and Klaus’ little problem.

“Yeah, why not. When in Berlin, I guess.” you say, leaning across to catch Luba’s lips with your own, catching his braided hair with your hand. His lips are surprisingly soft, and his tongue fights for dominance with your own, slowly becoming more of a stalemate, settling for pleasure.

You move into Luba’s lap, softly grinding against him to take the edge off of the simmering pleasure in your lower abdomen. Klaus turns the two of you lightly, only so he could catch Luba’s neck, gently kissing and nibbling it, leaving red marks in his wake. He licks the prominent carotid vein in his neck, biting it to draw a high moan out of Luba, causing him to draw away from the kiss to dust your neck with kisses, stopping at your collarbone to bite there, and to continue to grind against you, and Klaus pushes up against the blonde haired individual, trying to rub his dick slowly against the rough material of Luba’s vest.

“We should move somewhere more….accomodating for three people, some would say.” Klaus says, breathing lightly on Luba’s neck, licking along the length of his earlobe. You shudder at the ending of your session, but oblige, knowing that Klaus could get a little squirmy when he was being pleasured substantially.

The bedroom is somewhat different from the couch..or should I say love seat. You sit on the bed making out with Luba, but Klaus is sitting on the edge of the bed, sneaking a hand behind his navy blue bell bottoms, and slowly rubbing himself to get that constant source of endorphins moving. You moan lightly at the sensation of Luba rubbing himself against you, giving you just the lightest of clitoral stimulation. Wet smacks fill the air as you move down Luba’s form, biting at his smooth chest, and he moans beautifully next to your ear, giving it a nice bite to punctuate his gyrations against your pelvis. He pulls away from you just long enough to catch Klaus about to cum, only to stop him in his tracks.

“Don’t you fucking dare, I haven’t even sucked you off yet.” Luba says, making his way over to him.

Klaus sheepishly stands up with his prominent boner not being even close to hidden in those pants of his. You take your pants off on the bed, along with your shirt, and slip a hand into your panties, getting ready to enjoy what was about to be placed in front of you. Luba lands a kiss on Klaus’ lips, gropes his ass once, then kisses the loathed bulge put before him. He pulls Klaus' pants down, just so he can see his project, then gets to work. Luba takes Klaus’ cock entirely, balls in all and moans around the length, Klaus replying in earnest. He pops off of Klaus’ balls, focusing on the head of his dick. He gives little kitten licks to the tip, making prolonged eye contact with Klaus. He takes him inch by inch, savoring every little bit of his dick that he could get his plump lips on. You also saw Luba’s tongue making work of the vein showing on the underside of Klaus’ dick.

Luba reached his hands around and groped Klaus’ ass, kneading it between his hands, paying special attention to it. All while looking at Klaus with the biggest, brightest doe eyes the world did see. His emerald pierced the identical ones Klaus owned, sending him into a fit of moans and whimpers. He starts bobbing his head around the length, hollowing his cheeks to get that perfect feeling Klaus wanted deeply. He pulled off with a delicious pop , Klaus giving one last perfect moan from his lips. You’d been touching yourself heavily, not yet letting the slick fingers fully penetrate your hole. Just barely getting there. Luba strips himself clean, leaving his dick standing proudly against his flat stomach, small beads of precum falling from the tip, slowly making their way down to the base of his dick. Klaus also strips himself, moving over to where you were sitting on the bed, catching your lips between his own, then making quick work of your bra and panties.

He catches each nipple between his mouth, suckling lightly on the buds. Luba also joins in on the fun, and starts slowly fingering Klaus’ asshole, drawing a low moan out of his busy lips. Klaus draws himself away from you, just long enough to also draw Luba away, who drags you on top of him. Klaus takes his spot behind you, jacking himself off lightly. You don’t know where this is heading, but it looks like it’s about to be beautifully seductive and erotic. Apparently condoms didn’t exist in the future, but that was the least of your worries. Luba sat patiently, waiting for you to slip onto his cock, hands ready to catch you if you fall.

You slowly climbed onto Luba’s cock, stretching yourself deliciously, drawing a surprisingly strong moan from yourself. Luba’s dick is just about the same as Klaus’. It’s thicker than it is long, and light stubble covers his pelvic area. It’s not much pain, but lots of pleasure for you. Luba closed his eyes in pleasure, and lets out a loud grunt, putting his hands on your hips, grasping onto you. You slowly start to move on his length, moving up and down very slowly, then very quickly, as you’re used to Klaus being rough with you, and that’s what you took best.

And apparently so does Luba.

He moans and yells underneath you, moving his hips up to meet yours at every interval you move. Your breasts bounce wonderfully to each movement, and whenever Luba opens his eyes, it’s all he can see. Every now and then, his eyes go to Klaus, who attacks your neck and jerks himself off to your pace with his near lookalike. As well as that, Luba likes to look at where your pussy and his dick meet, being the source of this delicious pleasure. Things start to get a little calm, but Klaus gets a very, very naughty idea. He leans into your ear and fucking dirty talks you while you’re riding Luba into the goddamned sunset.

“Fuck yeah, you like riding that cock huh? Oh, such a dirty fucking girl, getting me all riled up. Yeah, clench that sweet pussy of yours around his fucking cock. Feeling it reach deep into your fucking love tunnel, banging up against your womb. Such a fucking slut. You know you want that cum painting your insides.” he says into your ear, humping a pillow from Luba’s bed. He moans in deep pleasure, grunting and whimpering at the noises you make. Klaus reaches forward to grope your tits, harshly squeezing them so that you can feel each finger rubbing against that skin.

Luba hears what’s going on, and it only brings him closer to his own orgasm. He moans louder now, confident in his ability to pleasure you. Him speeding up his own thrusts makes you clench your wet pussy around him, squeezing with all the might in your being. Klaus also speeds up his humping, and his words get dirtier and hornier.

“Yeah, make him cum hard, just like you milk me whenever you can. He’ll be saying your name like a mantra when you’re done with him. Oh, good girl, riding him like a fucking champ. Don;t you feel him getting closer and closer while his dick gets harder, yeah? Want him to pump your fucking womb full of cum, yeah? Make you want more.” he says, reaching his own peak, moaning sensually in your ear as he releases onto his stomach and your back.

That action may have given you the best orgasm in the history of your sex life.

You moan loudly and clench the hardest you’ve ever done so, sparking you to squirt messily all over Luba’s stomach. He cums after you, pumping you full of his cum. He covered his face when he came, and he moaned into oblivion. The three of you slowly recover from your orgasms, very slowly. Luba went to go fetch a wet washcloth, but not after kissing the both of you on the lips. You recover the slowest, and Klaus rubs your back as the aftershocks start rolling in. Luba cleans you up, and places his pillowcase in the wash. He also changes his sheets, but not after handing you a morning after pill, because in the early conversation over dinner that seemed so far away, you mentioned that you’d wanted kids much later in life.

You three sleep soundly, cuddled up against each other for warmth. You feel like you’re on Cloud 9 with that day and it’d only go downhill from there.

Masterlist

#klaus hargreeves imagin #klaus hargreeves smut #luba #smut

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stilloutofmyvulcanmind · 5 years

Text

Neon Gods Chapter 1

A/N - So this is the first chapter of a potentially longer work some of you guys showed interest in! This isn’t the definitive version, more of a slightly water-downed version I had to submit for a University project, but before I went back and did more, I wanted to know what people thought! :)

Word count - 2691

The name Borealis was far too pretty for such an ugly club. From the outside, it didn’t even look like a club, and the only way you would know that behind it’s grimy and dilapidated exterior were strobe lights and music that played so loudly leaving would make you believe you’d gone deaf, was, well, if you knew. The nightclub for misfits, criminals and those just looking to unwind, was the best-kept secret in the Industrial sector. Nightclubs, bars, or any form of establishment where a person could find a drink and some company for a few hours, had been strictly prohibited since the sector's formation, and any found guilty of running such a place...no one ever spoke of what happened to them. So when Borealis managed to continue surviving in its hidden location, it became unspoken law to not breathe a word to anyone you didn’t trust explicitly.

It was this way Astrid came to work there when she arrived in the sector. Her best, and honestly, only friend Lucra who already worked at Borealis, had taken pity and managed to secure her some shifts. That had been six years ago now, and she'd rather be nowhere else. The hours were long and meant they rarely saw the daytime, but it was always dark in the sector so it hardly mattered. The endless forests of factories billowed out so much thick, dark smoke from their metal trees that the sun was never able to pierce through to be seen anyway.

"Markus wants you back. Getting busy out there."

Astrid turned away from the window to see Lucra leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his almost bare chest. He was dressed near identical to her, only his black leather pants were exceptionally tighter, and there was about five times the glitter covering the flesh on show. "I needed to get out and take this damned thing off for a bit. Itches like a bitch." Holding up the offending item, a monstrous bright pink wig, Astrid glared at it like it was the cause of every problem in the world.

"Could always dye it, darling," Lucra said, motioning to his own turquoise hair, slicked in gel to stand almost upright with yet even more glitter.

"Ugh with all those chemicals? No thanks. I’ll suffer through." With one sure and practiced movement, Astrid had the wig back on securely, tucking the few stray hairs of her natural brown colour away and out of sight. "How do I look?" She asked, walking over to her friend.

"Gorgeous. You'll get all the tips," Lucra laughed, spending a moment to fluff up the synthetic hair.

Rolling her eyes, Astrid laughed, "I wish. They get one look at you and start drooling over themselves!"

"Between us, we'll rinse them clean then!"

Stepping back onto the floor, the deep thrum of the bass music could be felt reverberating through their bodies, the rhythm steady compared to the higher-pitched techno beat that played over it. Beams of light flashed down from the ceiling, circling from red to blue to yellow to green to pink to red again in a quick sequence that made the eye ache if observed for too long. The smell of vodka mixed with tobacco, weed, and sweat hung in the air hot and heavy as some danced together, bodies pressing with barely a gap between them, while others sat at one of the many tables, laughing and drinking and forgetting all their troubles of back-breaking work and constant observation.

One of said tables, occupied by a group of young men, waved their empty glasses in the air to catch their attention. No words needed to be spoken over who would be the one to go over, both knowing they were Lucra’s specialty, he’d be the one to earn the largest tip, so he broke free from their path to the bar to walk over. Astrid watched him a moment, just to admire his skill of getting customers firmly in his grasp. Everything was a performance, he’d told her once when she was still learning the ropes. From the clothes to the brightly coloured hair, to the glitter that shimmered and sparkled in the dancing lights, appearing so differently to the dull greys and browns that surrounded them in everyday life. It enraptured them, drew them in like they were seeing a magical creature from one of the old stories. That was the first step, from there it was a case of demeanor. Friendly enough to make them feel special, but not so much it came across obvious that you were fishing for extra credits. Read the atmosphere, chat more if they were chatty themselves, be quick with the drinks if they just wanted to be left alone. It was an art form, really, and none did it better than Lucra.

Astrid stopped at an empty table, clearing up the dirty glasses and mess left behind. She’d be lost without Lucra, that was no secret. Arriving in the sector with barely more than the clothes on her back and a little spare cash, with no job or a place to stay, Lucra had taken her in, given her a home. It had been the start of the best friendship she’d ever known, and soon, they’d have enough to get out of here forever. Caelus was waiting for them. They just needed the tickets to get there.

"Daydreaming ‘bout your new fantasy life again, girl?" Markus asked from where he stood behind the bar, mixing up some drinks as Astrid set down the used up glasses.

"Not a fantasy if it can happen, Markus," she retorted, leaning against the edge and grinning.

Markus glared back at her in return, his one synthetic eye narrowing. He’d never gotten the other replaced, no one knew why since the rest of him was more machine than man these days. Astrid suspected that Markus just enjoyed wearing an eyepatch and looking like a grumpy cyborg pirate to hide the fact he was actually quite kind. "You’ll be thirty in a couple years, Astrid. You and Lucra. You need to start facing up to reality and this, here, is your life."

"Never gonna happen, old man. We’ll get there one day. Possibly a little sooner if you raised our wages?"

"And lose two of the reasons, folk keep comin’ here? I don’t think so." Markus finished setting the last of the vividly coloured drinks onto a tray and pushed it towards her. "Now do your damn job and get these to the table in the back corner."

Astrid was about to do as she was told when everything changed. The music was still thumping and the lights still dazzled, but the carefree atmosphere had turned chilly. Looking around, everyone had stopped. No one danced, no one drank, no one said a word. From their spot at the bar, it was impossible to see what was going on. If White Wings had found them the place would be in uproar. People would be running and looking for a way to escape. Shots would be fired, and chaotic terror would fill the room. This wasn’t that kind of fear. This was ice running down your back, heart in your throat, a still sense of uncertainty and dread.

Lucra appeared next to her looking confused as she and Markus were as the crowd of people on the dance floor started to shift, parting to let the cause of the disturbance through. Three men came into view. Two were short, below average height and balding. The other was taller with more muscle than the first two combined. He was definitely intimidating, but not a match for the bouncers Markus hired. No, his appearance wasn’t why people were slowly backing their way to the exit. They were doing that because of the neon bands that wrapped around their biceps, glowing brightly against their dark suits. They were Neon Gods.

Astrid looked away quickly as the men approached the bar, her stomach flipping the same way it does when you’re standing atop a high precipe looking down

"Table," one of the shorter men ordered.

Markus stared at them for a second, the realization that he was being spoken to directly to coming slowly. It hit him and he jumped immediately into action, robotic leg whirring and creaking at being made to move so suddenly. "Course, sir. This way, please." He had never been so polite as he led the men to one of the now quieter corners of the club, people jumping out of their way to make room for them.

"The fuck are Gods doing here? I thought they didn’t know?" Lucra hissed in a whisper, tearing his eyes from the men and back to Astrid.

"Markus said they didn’t, that we were safe from them." Her heart hammered in her chest, the room seemed to spin and it felt like there was no air left in the room, but Astrid managed to glance back around at them before looking away again. The shorter men wore green bands, while the taller just wore a white one. They were low level then. Acting bigger than they really were. No one else in the room knew that. Their ranks were kept secret for a purpose after all. It also meant that they wouldn’t know who she was. Her breathing slowed, and the death grip she’d had on the bar loosened just a little. She was likely safe, but her skin still crawled, and the sooner they left the better.

"I don’t like it." Lucra, braver than Astrid, turned resting his elbows on the bar as he watched the small party. The crowd had thinned considerably, and those who remained were already in the process of leaving. "They have him in the corner, the big guy’s next to him, keeping him there. The little ones are saying something. Markus doesn’t look happy," he narrated, an uncharacteristic frown marring his face. "They’ve agreed to something, they’re shaking hands. Big guy is letting him go and the others are getting up too."

"That was quick," Astrid summoned the courage to look around too, watching the Gods take their leave. She wanted to believe that whatever business they had that could be conducted so quickly wasn’t serious or had anything to do with her, but her gut said otherwise. The twisted knot failed to loosen itself as Markus walked back to the bar, barking at the remaining customers to go over the music.

Markus raised a metallic finger once he’d returned to his spot behind the bar, silencing the question on Lucra’s lips, and reached under the counter with his other hand. Silence fell as the music came to an end. "Thank Christ, finally some fuckin’ peace," Markus grunted, grabbing a glass and pouring himself a healthy serving of whiskey.

"What the hell did they want Markus?"

The other waited until he had downed the amber liquid, and set the glass back down with a clink. "They’re hiring the place out tomorrow night for a “business” meeting. That’s it."

"That’s it?! Markus, we can’t! They’re too dangerous."

"I’m with Trid," Lucra agreed, exchanging a look with Astrid. "We can’t be associating with the Gods."

"You two’re talkin’ like we have a damned choice! They made it pretty clear that there’s only two options. One we do as they say an’ get their protection. Or two, we don’t an’ they throw us to the Wings. Which’d you rather?"

Astrid shook her head, leaning across the counter. "Markus, don’t. There has to be another way."

"And what way is that? Huh?" Markus looked between them both, voice rising as he spoke. "This is my club. I own it. I’m the only one who decides how to run it. You two just work here, and If you don’t like it, don’t let the door hit ya on the way out." His words lacked the venom for the threat to be sincere, and Astrid knew he didn’t like it just as much as them. Not that it made things easier. "Both of you go home and get some sleep, and bring your A-game tomorrow. With luck, this’ll be a one-off thing and we won’t ever have to see them again.

Astrid was prepared to keep on arguing, but Lucra grabbed her hand as he nodded towards Markus. "Okay, okay. We’re going. Goodnight." He pulled Astrid with him as he left the club and out into the night. Rain came down in a fine mist that was hardly noticeable until it started to seep into your skin and make you shiver. Yet that wasn’t the cause of the chill that ran down Astrid’s back as they hurried back to the tiny amount of space they called a flat.

Astrid didn’t sleep, but then neither did Lucra. They sat up together, talking about everything and nothing while steadfastly ignoring the topic of the following night. It was a relief, that she wasn’t alone in her nervousness. Not only did the old phrase 'misery loves company' come to mind, but this way no extra questions were asked, and she was able to get away with pretending all her concerns lay with the fate of the Borealis.

The night came back around as gloomy as always, but there was a far more eerie feeling as Astrid and Lucra stood at the bar and looked around the empty club. It was never empty during opening hours, but the Neon Gods had ordered no public access the entire night, and so none there were.

Just after midnight, the group walked in, larger than the night before, primarily made up of white bands who took positions across the club floor, hands resting entirely unsubtly on their guns. The rest were made up of green bands and to Astrid’s surprise and horror a blue band who was escorting a few unmarked men over to a table. They were almost never seen out in areas like this, so this meeting with the other men must’ve been important. Markus took the lead and walked over to the group as they settled, but Blue Band completely ignored him, letting the greens do the talking. He paid no attention to anyone at all, leaving the unmarked men to shift nervously in their seats as he simply tapped on his phone instead.

She must’ve been staring too hard, or maybe he just knew something was amiss because before she could look away, his eyes snapped up and stared straight at her from across the room. Astrid spun around, pretending to listen as Markus returned and bitched quietly about the obscure drinks they had ordered. She needed to get a grip. She didn’t know his face which meant he shouldn’t know hers. But his band...he knew more than any of the other colours, enough to ruin everything.

"Get these over to them, Astrid. This lot don’t like to be kept waitin’."

Snapped back to reality, Astrid stared at Markus, and then at the tray of drinks in front of her. "I...I…" She couldn’t, she thought. To get that close would be too much of a risk.

"I’ve got them." Lucra stepped in and lifted the tray with ease.

"Whatever." Markus moved further along the bar, trying to observe discretely what was going on.

Astrid looked up at Lucra with a smile and a tiny amount of relief, "Thank you."

"We’re talking when we get home," he said then left with the drinks.

Dropping her head in her hands, Astrid sighed. Had her fear of Blue Band really been that apparent? Probably not, but Lucra knew her better than anyone so of course, he’d pick up on it. How much could she tell him? He wouldn’t let her brush it off, but she needed to keep him safe too, and the truth, the truth of who she really was, was not safe.

A hand landed on her shoulder, and thinking it was Lucra returning, she turned to look at him. The first and only thing she focused on was the band of neon blue.

"Kethra?"

Tagging: @bookcaseninja @sleep-depiravation @0dannyphantom0 @thevalesofanduin @goingknowherewastaken @oxymoroniccat

#Original work #sci fi #science fiction #dystopian society #dystopian future #gangs

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hellyeahrpmemes · 5 years

Text

※ STARKID’S THE GUY WHO DIDN’T LIKE MUSICALS ※

starters from starkid’s new musical the guy who didn’t like musicals ! feel free to change names/pronouns/places/etc !

"I mean, what the fuck?”

“Should we kill him?”

“What an ass. What a bitch. What a cuck!”

“It’s the end of the world, Paul.”

“We swear we will teach you.”

“The apotheosis is upon us.”

“Did you hear the word?”

“He’s destined to go viral.”

“Where the fuck is he?”

“He definitely won’t like this.”

“You’ve gotta believe in something, Paul.”

“You piece of shit.”

“Were you gonna sign up for the company softball league.”

“I don’t want to, though.”

“Sweetheart, it’s... cuddle night.”

“What do you mean ‘so what’, the counselor says we should do it at least once a month!”

“We skipped last month...”

“Don’t you think I’m tired, too?”

“Maybe tomorrow night then, huh?”

“That was Sam. He’s doing just fine...”

“I’m sorry, you can’t smoke in here.”

“Her mother, just to make me look small, took her all the way to New York to see Hamilton.”

“Wow. She’ll like that just as much as Hamilton.”

“She thinks you’re cool. Maybe you could talk me up a bit.”

“Bill... no. Sorry.”

“You’d rather do nothing than come with us to see Mamma Mia.”

“I’d rather do anything than go see Mamma Mia.”

“The idea of sitting there, trapped, in a musical, that is my own personal hell.”

“I’m trying to reconnect with my teenage kid and you’re just gonna leave me hanging?”

“I just want my daughter back...”

“You didn’t invite me.”

“I don’t wanna show you up.”

“I don’t wanna give my money to some corporate chain.”

“I don’t wanna disturb anyone.”

“Did you do that to be nice or did you do it to be an asshole?”

“Oh, no, what am I gonna do without that dollar that I have to split with five other people?”

“That sign’s bullshit!”

“I still haven’t gotten my hot chocolate.”

“I have very low blood sugar.”

“I just tipped because, you know... people should tip.”

“Not that you’re an asshole. Well, maybe you are.”

“Oh, no, that’s for you. I don’t give a shit about them.”

“I think I had to see that. I did not like it.”

“I don’t like musicals. Watching people sing and dance makes me very uncomfortable.”

“Some things are worth it.”

“I see you in here all the time, don’t I?”

“Oh, shoot, I forgot Bill’s caramel frap... eh, fuck Bill.”

“You don’t give to Greenpeace, do you?”

“This has to be the last time.”

“You’re such an asshole, but that uniform is so fucking sexy.”

“If anyone thinks that makes me less of a man, they can talk to my fucking gun!”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to pick you up?”

“Come on, you bastard! You don’t think I’m ready for you?”

“What the fuck was that?”

“What’s happening? I’m very confused and concerned by all of this.”

“Okay. Okay. Okay. Okay. Okay.”

“We get there, and the whole theatre was exploded by a god dang meteor!”

“You got enough coffee in the sugar?”

“Is today some kind of, I don’t know, Canadian holiday or something?”

“You’re fucking useless, Paul.”

“I just have a bad feeling about all of this.”

“I don’t know why, but it frightened me.”

“What do you want, Paul?”

“What’s that one concrete goal that motivates all your actions?”

“I don’t know, I want money-?”

“A man so vague just can’t be trusted.”

“Do you know what I want for myself?”

“I want you to choke me out at night.”

“This seems like a private moment. Like, who is this for?”

“I want you to choke me while I jerk off.”

“No, Paul, I want you to hear this, if you leave, you’re fired.”

“I forgot what I wanted to say.”

“I wanna go home!”

“Please, God, I just want a black coffee!”

“You’re talking to me, like a normal person.”

“I think there’s something terribly wrong with the world today.”

“It is scary, if you think about the implications. Promise me you’ll think about the implications.”

“Are you frightened?”

“When I got this job, I signed up to serve coffee and cold, shitty pastries.”

“Whose decision was it to line an alleyway with tons of shrubs?”

“There’s a dead end here, so... just go the other way again.”

“I know this is probably a bad time, but, uh, do you like film?”

“You were right. I didn’t think about the implications.”

“If you want to stay in our hiding spot, you’ve gotta stay quiet.”

“Uh... fuck you...?”

“You grabbed the wrong one, you noodle!”

“We’re cops. And we make sense.”

“We’re up in your shit.”

“Do the things I say, I’m a cop!”

“We have to get out of downtown, okay? Downtown is fucked.”

“I’m his favorite student ‘cause I bought him groceries once.”

“What do you call a guy that lives in a fortress?”

“He thinks the world is ending, he’s been preparing for the last 20 years for the apocalypse.”

“I am a presbyterian. I am not gonna die in your dirty-ass methodist church.”

“I don’t need to see it, thank you.”

“These are my friends. This is Paul, and... them.”

“I theorized this exact scenario thirty years ago.”

“What the fuck is this shit?”

“Look no further than my robot assistant, Alexa.”

“Do you have anything to take the edge off, like... drink - or something?”

“Young man, for the past 27 years, I have been stockpiling the bare essentials needed for human survival in the event of a world-ending cataclysm. You bet your ass we’ve got booze.”

“If I’m gonna die, I’m gonna go out doing the thing I love. Screwing around with another man’s wife.”

“I love him. I know I shouldn’t, but I do.”

“No, Charlotte! This guy is a scumbag. You could upgrade to a sleazeball.”

“Where am I? Why am I tied to a chair?”

“I really don’t wanna die alone in here.”

“How the hell am I supposed to make a Shirley Temple without any cherries?”

“If it’s as serious as all that, I figured we might need a designated driver.”

“If you make one more crack at me, I am gonna... do something to you!”

“I’m gonna kick your- head!”

“I wanna see you kick above your waist.”

“Okay, it was a dumb threat, stop rubbing it in.”

“This is supposed to relax us, not make us kill each other.”

“I’m gonna start a pot farm.”

“Weed’s the future. It’s gonna be legal nationwide soon, bet you any money...!”

“We hated ourselves!”

“We’re gonna kick your ass, and then we’re gonna fucking kick your ass.”

“Sing the beginning of Moana!”

“I didn’t like that movie.”

“Alright. That was terrible.”

“Right now, you need to run and hide.”

“Everything’s going to be fine.”

“I knew we were gonna need a designated driver!”

“You screaming is gonna get us killed.”

“What was I supposed to do? Lie?”

“Whatever I said this morning, I’m sorry.”

“We need to leave right now.”

“Why does it hurt to love you?”

“You let me down again.”

“Wear a watch! Time is a precious thread in the fabric of the universe! It deserves its own tool of measurement!”

“I was trying to save something that could not be saved.”

“I don’t think it can do that...”

“If they hear us, they will kill us!”

“This song’s pretty good, huh?”

“While I’ve been preparing for the apocalypse, I’ve also been writing my own musical.”

“Do you mind if I give you the pitch?”

“We don’t have time...”

“Fuckin’ go for it!”

“Last week feels like ages ago.”

“Five o’clock can’t come soon enough.”

“I can’t wait to get home to my boys.”

“We’ve gotta get out of here while they’re distracted!”

“I say I’d be a better person, I’m still not a good person!”

“Fuck you, Hatchetfield!”

“I hate to say this right now, but this is what seatbelts are for.”

“I don’t know your friends’ fucking names...!”

“Our coffee was shit ‘cause we didn’t care.”

“We’ve been waiting for you, Paul.”

“Is my integrity worth anything at all?”

“You’re sure there were no other survivors?”

“Don’t you want to see me happy?”

“Can I - can I use your phone, please?”

“Why are you clapping?”

#rp memes #rp sentence meme #sentence starter meme #rp sentence starters #sentence starters #mine

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showtimeben · 5 years

Text

And Then There Were Six

Summary: The Hargreeves siblings were once as close as ever, connected by a freakish birth and special powers right out of a comic book. However, this all went downhill once one of the siblings, Five, suddenly disappeared from their lives. Nothing was the same after he left, and nothing seemed to get better once he was gone.

Read on ao3 here x or under the cut

Word count: 2360

The day that Five disappeared started off just like any other. At around 6am, Grace started to wake up all of the kids in order of rank, the same thing she did every morning. Luther by telling the already awake boy to get ready, Diego by coming over to stroke the hair out of his face until he started to stir, Allison by shaking her shoulder, Klaus by coaxing him with the promise of breakfast, Ben by calling his name from the doorway, and Vanya by simply knocking on her door thrice. Five, however, insisted that he was too old to be woken by their mom and set his own alarm every morning. There was plenty of squabbling over who got to use the bathrooms first and yelling at Klaus for using the wrong toothbrush, but as soon as Grace rang the bell they were all running down the stairs and walking into the dining room.

They walked in to the sound of the news going through the radio as it did every morning, something which they had become accustomed to. The seven kids walked to their usual spots; Luther, Diego and Five standing on one side, Allison, Klaus, and Ben on the other, and Vanya at the head. Reginald came in a moment later, dressed in his usual suit and his monocle in place over his eye. He walked to his spot at the opposite head, staring straight ahead at Vanya for a moment before uttering a simple, “Sit.”

The kids all ate their oatmeal, the same breakfast they’d been eating for 13 years now which had over time been adapted the way each kid liked. Luther’s had a bit of added nuts and granola, Diego had cinnamon and honey, Allison had strawberries and cream, Klaus had chocolate chips, Five liked his plain, Ben had his with bananas, and Vanya had mixed berries added in. Reginald hadn’t been happy with the changes at first, but after Grace convinced him that the kids having breakfasts they liked would make them work better, he relented.

After they were all excused from breakfast, they dispersed to do their own training. Luther worked on lifting in the same room Diego threw his knives and Allison whispered how she heard a rumor that they could lift more and throw straighter. Ben was forced to practice controlling his tentacles, as much as he didn’t want to, in a separate room so he wouldn’t accidentally hurt his siblings. Meanwhile, Five worked on going further with his spatial jumps while Klaus snuck off to smoke weed to try and get rid of the ghosts and Vanya was left alone to practice her violin.

Lunch went on as usual, and afterwards the kids were left to their own devices. Luther and Allison listened to a record in her room, Diego got Klaus to play darts with him, Ben read a book while Vanya practiced violin in the same room, and Five continued to practice his jumps. Soon enough they heard the final bell of the day. They all stopped what they were doing, putting stuff down before rushing downstairs for dinner.

They lined up in the same order as always, waiting for Reginald to instruct them to sit before doing so and tucking into their food. A Herr Carlson record was playing, as it was every Tuesday evening at 6pm. The kids found it less than enjoyable, to say the least, but they knew better than to say anything about it and upset their father. All seemed to be going the same as usual with Klaus rolling a joint, Diego carving into his chair and Ben reading while he ate until Five decided to slam his knife into the wood of the table and startle everyone.

Reginald had simply set down his glass of wine and addressed the child with an air of contempt. Despite Five being told that he wasn’t allowed to speak at the dinner table, a rule that he had known since he was old enough to understand rules, he spoke up anyways. He brought up his desire to time travel, something that was well known to get on Reginald’s nerves. Normally Five would drop it after his request was dismissed, but that night he was determined.

He kept pushing despite Reginald’s explanation and denial, only resulting in upsetting himself. Vanya tried to silently urge her brother to drop it, but Five dismissed her warning and kept going anyways. Eventually he had gotten so fed up that he ran off, something the kids never did until they were dismissed. Vanya was inclined to run after him and stop him, but she knew better than to leave without permission and she didn’t want to be punished. Besides, he would only be gone for a few hours at most, right?

As the siblings, as well as the world soon found out, Five was not gone for just a few hours. They had all expected Five to come back that night and give Reginald a half-assed apology before going to bed and for things to be back to normal by the next morning, but it was anything but. The, now only six, siblings kept out hope that he was just getting away for a few days and that he’d be back soon, but their spirits were slowly but surely breaking. Reginald kept telling them how he was gone and he shut them down when they tried to argue otherwise.

Days, weeks, and then months passed with still no sign of the fifth Hargreeves child. For a while the kids would take turns sneaking out of the house to look for them, Grace helping them get out undetected. They would search the streets and alleyways and abandoned houses, but there was still no sign of their brother. That didn’t stop the kids at first, though, as they felt that Five would soon come back once he had made his point. They put up missing kids posters and got the news to run a story on him and everything, but nobody had seen him.

Eventually the kids all gave up, resigned to a life without one of their brothers. Vanya, however, always made sure to leave three peanut butter and marshmallow sandwiches around the house every night. One by the front door, one by the back, and one on his bedroom nightstand. She had thought that maybe one day he would finally come back, and when he did he was bound to be hungry so he would need his favorite pick me up. She left them for years, holding on to a shred of hope that one morning she would wake up to see that Five was home and had eaten them. He never was though, and Pogo was always left to clean the sandwiches up and toss them in the trash come morning.

Reginald had a portrait made of Five under the guise of it being a remembrance of his lost soldier. The now teens saw right through that, knowing that the underlying meaning of it was a message to always listen to Reginald or you’d end up like Five; gone and forgotten. Every day the siblings were told to look at the portrait and reflect, but all it managed was to make them miss their brother and resent their father.

Things were never the same once Five was gone. Seven children had become six and to them it just wasn’t right. Everyone, excluding Reginald, missed the snarky 13 year old who was too confident in his abilities for his own good. The six would be together and things would seem fine, but every one of them knew that something was missing and that the hole in their hearts would never be replaced. They still celebrated their birthdays together, each year the collective wish when blowing out the candles being that Five would return.

Grace and Pogo suffered as well, as Five was an important part of their lives. Grace may have been just a robotic nanny at first, but she had grown into so much more. She grew to care for the kids as if she was their actual mother, and though she and Five were never particularly close he was still her son. She lost one of her children on that fateful Tuesday evening and she mourned the loss like any mother would. Often times she could be found staring at his portrait late into the night, talking to it as if Five could respond.

Pogo had helped take care of the kids since he was a baby and he cared about them all deeply. When Five disappeared he was left to comfort the kids along with Grace, as Reginald clearly wasn’t going to do anything. He held Ben and Vanya as they cried, as those two had always been the closest with the lost brother. He helped them all come to terms with him being gone, all while dealing with the loss of the child himself. He was more of a dad to them than Reginald ever was and he felt the pain of Five being gone just as any good father would.

Eventually the number being down to six became the norm and the kids lost all their hope. They continued to go on and complete missions, adjusting to fighting without one of their strongest parts. They had a new dynamic and learned how to defeat the bad guys without Five’s help. Then the day that became tied for the worst day of their lives came up out of nowhere.

It was looking like a regular mission and all was going as planned until something went terribly wrong. Ben somehow lost control and there was nothing anybody could do to help. They were all left staring in horror as their brother was torn apart by his own body and by a power he had never asked to have and had wished to suppress. Unbeknownst to them, in Ben’s final moments he wasn’t thinking about how he would never get to see any of them again. Instead, he thought about the fact that he thought he would finally be able to see Five again.

With Ben gone, everything was practically over. The Hargreeves had now lost two sons due to the powers they possessed, and nobody wanted to make that a third. The Umbrella Academy disbanded leaving Luther as the only soldier left. Allison left to pursue a career in acting, Diego wanted to become a police officer, Klaus fell deeper into his drug habit, and Vanya just wanted to get away from it all. The once close siblings stopped talking aside from the collective ‘Happy Birthday’ text on October 1st and a ‘Merry Christmas’ come the holidays.

Though Five and Ben had been gone for years at that point, the last five siblings did everything they did for them. Luther and Diego wanted to fight in their honor, Allison wanted to make them proud, Klaus still had Ben but the drugs helped him stop thinking about Five all the time and Vanya wanted their stories to be told as well as her’s. Vanya’s book had a section dedicated to her two brothers who were taken too soon. She told the story of how she had never truly lost hope that he would come back, even to that day. In the back of her mind there was always the naive thought that he would finally come back and all would be okay again once she had her brother who she was once the closest with back.

The siblings eventually stopped talking altogether, most not even coming to Allison’s wedding. The only one in attendance was Diego as Luther was on the moon, Klaus was high off his ass, and Vanya had just released her book so they weren’t exactly on speaking terms at that moment. It wasn’t for another 17 years that the sibling were together again, though not for the best of circumstances.

Reginald Hargreeves had been pronounced dead, and the remaining five made their way back to their first homes as soon as they could. Luther returned from the moon, Allison left LA, Diego and Vanya finally came back, and Klaus mostly came for a place to sleep. Little did they know, their five would soon be back up to six.

Within hours of their return, a storm came seemingly out of nowhere. They all went to investigate, only to find that this was no storm after all. Mere moments later somebody was coming out of it, though it wasn’t just anybody. This was Five, the long lost brother. The first sibling they had ever lost and who they mostly believed to be dead. He was alive, and not only was he alive, but he was here, back at the Umbrella Academy at last.

Along with the confusion, the siblings were secretly thrilled. They had their brother back after 17 despairing years, and though he was still 13 he was alive and well. Deep down, they had a secret hope that things could finally get back to normal. That they’d be able to push aside their differences and become as close as they once were.

But then things weren’t normal, they were anything but, in fact. Everyone, including and especially Five, was acting weird and it seemed like everything that could possibly happen was happening at once. The end of the world was fast approaching and they were all thrown into trying to stop it before they could even comprehend what it was. They failed to stop it and were practically hopeless before Five had his radical idea.

They were going back in time, all together, and none of them had any clue what to expect. They didn’t know whether they’d be able to stop it at all, whether they would be stuck in the past reliving the past 17 years, whether they would get Ben back as well, or if this would even work at all. They had no choice but to try though, and hope that they’d be able to fix it this time around. Besides, what else could possibly go wrong?

#tw: major character death #bc ben #tw: slight gore #in ben's death but it's only a few sentences #the umbrella academy #tua #five hargreeves #luther hargreeves #diego hargreeves #allison hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #ben hargreeves #vanya hargreeves #number five #tua fic #the umbrella academy fic #bella writes #nobody asked for it but here it is anyways

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hannahindie · 6 years

Text

The Grass Is Always Greener

Characters: Sam x Reader, Dean x Reader, Sam x Reader, Dean Word Count: 7,358 Warnings: Alcohol, weed, language, cracky goodness, so much smut. Just...just filth. Like a pinch of plot towards the end, but it’s like...guys, it’s just...you shouldn’t read it if you’re under 18. Hell, you maybe shouldn’t read it if you’re over 18. I mean, for me, anyway. It could be worse. But it’s all over the place, and there’s just a lot of it. So....here you go. A/N: This was written for @squirrel-moose-winchester‘s Supernatural Crack Attack Challenge. I’m gonna apologize ahead of time that there is more smut than crack, but it just...it just happened. I think I blacked out for part of it. Anyway, hopefully the cracky-ness is cracky enough!

Also, I had this amazing anonymous request: Prompty things challenge for you!! Scenario: Sam and Dean. Drinking (heavily) in the bunker. Sam pulls out weed. What do they do next? Also please include somehow, tank tops, honey, bad tv movies, whiskey, potato salad, giggling, toast, fuzzy slippers, silk, chores, falling,sleeping, and pie. :) Have fun with that!! So, scattered throughout this fic, is every single one of these things. I’m sorry if you weren’t expecting a ton of porn to go with it, but I hope, if you read this, you laugh as much as I did when I was trying to figure out how to get them all in there.

This was beta’d by my beautiful twinny @pinknerdpanda and my sweet, sweet @amanda-teaches, who also helped me name this crazy thing. This was a doozy to write, and you guys helped so much. I can’t tell you how much I’ve appreciated it, especially while I was sick and had the fever brain.

“Shhh!”

“You shhhh! You're gonna wake her up!”

“I'm not the one theater whispering as if it's actually how real people whisper.”

I roll over, the urgent whispers outside my door waking me from the light sleep I'd managed to finally fall into.

“What do you call what you're doing? Listen, we jus’ gotta sneak in there, I'll grab it, and...and she’ll never even know.”

“W-w-what? Of course she's gonna notice!”

“Dean...listen...she's not gonna smoke it. She jus’ took it from that kid to scare him when we were interrogating him the other day, she’ll never even notice.”

“Dude, are you trying to make up for that time you smoked oregano? Ya don't have anythin’ to prove, man. Le’s just go drink some more.”

“Are you scared of Y/N? Is that it? ‘Cause I think you are.”

“S’bullshit! I ain't scared of shit.”

My door opens enough to let in a sliver of light, and I squint against the brightness. Two shadowy figures fill the doorway, jamming together as they both try to walk in at the same time.

“Can you get out of my way?”

“I was going first, you move!”

“Oh my God, you're actually the worst.”

A few mumbled curses later, Sam’s large form pops through the doorway, nearly colliding with the foot of my bed.

“Where are we even supposed to look, Sam? It could be anywhere in here.”

“I know exactly where to look.” He moves over to my dresser and pulls open the top drawer. His shoulders hunch when it squeals along the track, and I have to bite my lip to keep from giggling at the face I know he is making.

“How d’you know it's in there? You jus’ wanna go through her underwear drawer.”

“This is where she keeps secrets, Dean. And I know because I know things. I drink and I know things.”

“Okay, Tyrion, you don't even drink enough to say that. How d’you know where she keeps her secrets?”

“Tha’s my secret.”

I hear him rummaging around, the light on his phone on but not pointed at any specific place as he shifts things in the drawer, and I consider interrupting him, until I hear him gasp.

“Did you find it?” Dean’s whisper has become less of a whisper and more like a normal speaking voice.

“Umm, no, not yet. Just...gimme a minute.” I hear whatever is in his hand hit the wooden bottom of the drawer, and then the sudden violent vibrating of plastic as it reverberates through the room. “Oh, fuck.”

“What the hell, man? Turn it off!”

“I don’t know how I turned it on! Shit!”

I can’t hold it in anymore, and laugh.

“AH!” Sam screeches, and his phone flies out of his hand and nearly hits Dean in the face. “How long have you been awake?!”

I sit up and rub my eyes, blinking as Dean flips on the light, “Long enough to know you're both idiots.” I shift so my legs hang over the side of the bed, groping for my fuzzy slippers with my feet. I sigh contentedly when they slip into the soft, fuzzy material, then stand and shuffle sleepily to my dresser. Sam snorts and I give him a not so scathing glare. “What?”

“Those slippers are ridiculous.”

“You're ridiculous. And also a liar,” I accuse as I reach into my drawer and switch off the offending noise maker, “because I know you know how to turn this off.” Sam’s jaw drops and Dean looks at him with a mixture of curiosity and offense.

“What's she mean by that?”

“S’nothing, she's just...she's just playing around.” He gives a nervous laugh and I grin.

“Oh, playing around is one way you could put it.” I wink at Sam and Dean’s nose scrunches.

“I don't like what's happening.”

“You don’t have to. Now, both of you take your drunk asses back to the living room, and pour me a glass of whiskey so I can catch up to you two assholes. Go. Now.” The two of them shuffle out of the room, and I dig around in my dresser for a tank top and shorts. I grab the contraband Sam was looking for and walk down the hall and into the living room, where Sam and Dean are talking in hushed whispers.

“What are you guys whispering about?”

Dean looks up, a glint in his eyes, “We were just wondering how often you slept with no pants on.”

“At least one of you should know that answer.”

Dean gapes at Sam again, “Seriously, dude, what is she talking about?”

I grab the glass of whiskey they had obediently poured for me and throw it back, grimacing at the burn, “If you can’t figure it out by now, sweetheart, you don’t need to worry about it. Now, let’s get me caught up so we can get to what you were looking for.”

“Y/N...I don’t think that’s how you make potato salad…”

I turn around and point the wooden spoon at Sam, flinging bits of potato in his direction. He flinches and wipes a piece of rogue tuber from his cheek. “My grandmother taught me this recipe, and it has been passed down for generations.”

“One...I don’t think potato salad has existed for generations, and two, I’m pretty positive no recipe includes honey.” I look back at the bowl and frown, then back at Sam.

“I don’t have any mayonnaise. Honey’s the next best thing.”

“That sounds wrong.”

I shrug, then give another squirt of honey in the bowl, “Sweet potato salad.” I snort and Sam rolls his eyes.

“That's not how that works!”

“Not how what works?” I turn to see Dean sauntering into the kitchen, one of the joints I had taken from the kid balanced loosely between his thumb and pointer finger.

“She doesn't have mayonnaise so she used honey instead.”

“Ha! Sweet potato salad!” I giggle and he takes a drag, breathing out slowly, sending a cloud of smoke directly into Sam’s face, “If you were higher, you'd appreciate our jokes more.”

“I don't think there's enough weed in this world to make me think your jokes are funny.”

“That’s harsh, Sammy. Here, have some more. Clearly, you have not imbibed enough.” Sam snatches it from Dean and wanders off, smoke billowing behind him. “Don’t smoke all of it, Jesus!”

“It’s alright, we’ve got more.” I go back to stirring the potato salad, reaching for the paprika.

I feel him walk up behind me, barely grazing my back as he leans over to see what I’m doing. “What was that earlier?”

“What was what?”

“You know, with Sam. The whole ‘you should know how to turn off a vibrator’ thing?”

I snort again, popping a potato into my mouth, “I think you know perfectly well what that was.”

He grabs my elbow and spins me around, “Yea, but what was that?”

I lick honey from my thumb as I look up at him, “Nothing. Sometimes I like to blow off steam.”

He groans quietly, pushing me against the counter, “You can’t say things like that when you’re licking honey off your fingers.”

“I can say whatever I want whenever I'm licking honey off anything I want,” I say with a wink. I lean closer, standing on my tiptoes so that my lips are almost grazing his. “You know what I think?”

“What?” he whispers, his hand resting gently on my lower back.

“You're jealous.”

“Jealous? Why would I be jealous?” he scoffs.

I turn back to the bowl of potato salad and grab some bowls and forks, “Omaha. Silk restraints. Magic fingers.” I look over my shoulder to find his normally tan face a bright shade of red. “One time deal, you said it yourself. ‘It'll be too weird, we were drunk.’ Do you remember saying that?”

“Well, yea-”

“Exactly. Sam and I have a casual, no strings attached arrangement. He doesn't think it's weird.”

“I'd bet he doesn't think it's casual and no strings attached.”

I roll my eyes and turn around, shoving the bowl at him, “Maybe not! But he doesn't think it's weird. And what we do is no stranger than you wearing my underwear and having me tie you up with silk ties.” He stares at me, his mouth open but silent. “I'm not high enough for this conversation. Can we please just go eat sweet potato salad and watch bad, made for TV movies?”

He nods, “Yea, sure.” He turns and walks out of the kitchen without another word.

I need more whiskey.

“What the hell did we just watch?”

“I think it was Sharknado 5.”

Dean tilts his head to look at Sam and I on the couch, “I hate both of you.”

“You didn't have to stay in here, you know.” I can feel Sam shift uncomfortably next to me and stifle a giggle. He frowns, knowing that I am taking great pleasure in teasing him.

“Yea, well, you seemed pretty sure we should all watch this movie.”

I shrug, “I thought you would enjoy it more. I mean, aren't you a fan of whatserface?”

“The blonde chick with the robot arm? Oh, hell no. Tara Reid lost her appeal after the first American Pie movie. Nope, gross. Although I will say, the Hoff being able to function after that cheeseburger video is pretty impressive.”

I let my hand creep up Sam’s leg and stop at his thigh. He clears his throat, “Well, I think it's time to, uh, go to bed.” He shifts, but stays seated, his obvious need to be somewhere else thwarted by his even more obvious reason as to why.

“Yea,” I agree, my hand slipping even further, gently palming him through his jeans, “it's time we go to bed I think.” I grab the whiskey bottle with my unoccupied hand and relinquish my hold on Sam as I stand up. “One for the road?”

Dean stands up and stretches, his shirt pulling up to show off a little span of tan skin and fine hair trailing from his belly button to just under the edge of his jeans. I can feel the heat crawling up my cheeks as I stare, and he chuckles.

“You done?”

I clear my throat, “Quite.” I hold out the bottle to him and he shakes his head.

“Nah, I think I'm gonna cut myself off this time. You okay to get to bed?”

I nod, “Yea, yea, I'm good. I am gooood.”

He smiles and shakes his head, “Alright. G’night, guys.” He stumbles away, turning the corner and disappearing into the dark hallway.

“You are the worst.” I look over to see Sam stand up, the reason for his discomfort obvious as I stare at his bulge. I take a giant swig of whiskey, and sway a little as I look up at him.

“Whatever do you mean?”

“I dunno, fondling me and then immediately checking out my brother is on the list, I think.” He steps closer, towering over me as he tries not to smile.

“You aren't mad?”

“Nah, I guess not. You aren't my girl, anyway.”

“I’m...I’m not?”

“I heard you talking to Dean. Just a casual way to blow off steam?”

I duck my head, “I...you...I'm sorry…”

He tucks his knuckle under my chin and forces me to look up at him, “I didn't say anything to tell you otherwise. No need to be sorry.” He drops his hand and it lands on my hip, his thumb rubbing the exposed skin between my tank top and the elastic band of my shorts. “You can do whatever you want, I just hope I'm allowed to be in on it every once in awhile.”

“Can we do whatever I want right now?”

Instead of answering, he dips down, his lips crushing mine as he pulls me into him. I can feel the heat radiating off of him, and he practically crushes me in his arms. His tongue traces the crease of my lips, gently parting them so that we can explore each other. This isn't the first time this has happened, but something seems different. It's more desperate, like there's something more to lose if we go through with it this time.

“Sam…” his lips move down my neck, sucking and leaving marks as his hands move down to grasp my ass. His mouth moves back up, nipping at my earlobe, and I gasp as his voice, deep and rough from the alcohol, rumbles against my ear.

“Did you want to do something else?” I can hear the smile in his voice.

I press myself against his denim clad bulge, wiggling my hips and making him moan, “What do you think?”

Suddenly, my feet aren't on the floor anymore and I squeal, wrapping my arms around Sam’s neck and my legs around his waist as he strides quickly through the bunker. I take the opportunity and begin running my fingers through his hair, kissing along his neck and along his jaw. He stops suddenly, pushing me against the wall and holding me there, “If you don't stop, we aren't going to make it to my room.”

I grab the hem of my shirt, balancing against him as I pull it off and toss it to the floor. The look in his eyes changes; the playful glint is replaced with dark lust. His hand snakes between us, rubbing against my clothed mound as he kisses me again, all teeth and tongue and quiet moans.

“We should...we should go to your room now,” I manage to moan out, my hips thrusting to meet his hand.

“You mean, you don't want me to fuck you in the hallway? Afraid Dean might see?” I let out an involuntary whimper; the thought of Dean catching us is more appealing than worrisome. “Not afraid...you sound like you want him to catch me fucking you out in the open.” If my panties weren't wet before, they're absolutely soaked now.

He pulls back to look at me, his eyes narrowed as he contemplates what he wants to do. “I could eat you out right here, but if he caught us, maybe I'd have to share.” His hand slips up the leg of my shorts, and under the elastic of my underwear. I gasp as one of his thick digits pushes inside of me and he begins moving it slowly. “On the other hand, if the thought of that gets you so turned on-”

“Just take me to your room, Sam. Please…” my voice is barely above a whisper, but he smiles at how wrecked I sound. He isn't wrong; the last few times this happened, it was sweeter, gentler. I don't know if it's the alcohol or the weed, or a combination of the two, but this...I don't have words for this.

Then he starts walking, and it's then I realize that his hand is still in my shorts, and he's still pushing and pulling, in and out, every step he takes adding to the thrust of his hand. My arms wrap tightly around his neck and the thought occurs to me that not only is he strong enough to hold me up with one arm, he's also coordinated enough to keep fingering me while high and walking down the hallway. Add that to the list of things I didn't realize was such a turn on. A drawn out moan escapes me and he chuckles, a low, throaty laugh. “We aren't going to make it past Dean’s room if you do that.”

Then he stops, dead in the hallway. Fuck.

“What...what are you doing?” Dean’s door is closed, and Sam’s eyes are trained on it like a beacon. Without a word he turns so that my back is towards it. “Sam…”

He pulls his hand from my shorts, then rips them off in one fluid motion. I hear his belt clinking and can feel his knuckles brush against me as he undoes his pants, shimmying them down so he can kick them off. He pushes me against the door and the wood is rough against my bare back.

“I’m going to give you what you want.” I gasp as he nudges my entrance, “But you have to be quiet.”

“I don't think-”

“Oh, you will,” he practically growls as he pushes further into me, “because I don't think I'm ready to share just yet.”

I bite my lip to keep from crying out as he bottoms out, my eyes wide. He takes a deep breath, as if he's trying to control himself, then slowly begins to thrust again. He switches which arm is holding me up and puts his free hand on the door to steady himself. Just the sound of his heavy breathing is almost too much paired with his slow, dragging pace and I clutch at his shoulders, my head falling back against the door with a quiet thud. I flinch, but Sam doesn't seem to notice as he ducks his head down to kiss along my collarbone, nipping and sucking his way along my neck and up to my jaw.

His lips drag along the shell of my ear, his breath hot as he whispers, “Do you think Dean knows we’re out here?” He pulls out almost all the way, “Do you think he is picturing what you look like while I fuck you?” He punctuates his question by slamming back into me, pushing against the door so it doesn't rattle in the frame. I can't answer, afraid that if I do, I'll be too loud. “You aren't answering. Do you think he knows,” he pulls out again, “that I'm fucking you,” he slams back in, grunting quietly into my shoulder, “right against his door?”

I can feel the coil tightening, his motions and the picture he's painting pushing me closer and closer to the edge. “I...I don't...maybe…” I can't form a coherent sentence, not the way he’s dragging in and out of me, and my head drops forward, resting against the soft flannel shirt he's still wearing.

“If he does know, if he can hear us,” another deliciously slow thrust, “I'd bet he’s getting off to it. Imagining what you look like, how you bite your lip, how it feels to be surrounded by your warmth. I know I've thought about it more than once, spilling over my fist in the shower…”

That's all it took. The fire deep in my belly bursts into flame, consuming me as the coil snaps. My teeth sink into Sam’s shoulder, hoping that his shirt is thick enough to muffle the loud cry that is involuntarily leaving me. His thrusts quicken, but his hips start to stutter and I hold onto him, riding him through his own release as he groans out my name.

He pulls back and looks at me, sweat trickling down his temple and towards his neck, and smiles.

“You are the worst,” I giggle whisper, and he shrugs.

“You like it.” He starts walking towards his room and I start laughing.

“Sam, put me down! You're leaving my clothes!”

He keeps walking, his grip tighter so I can't wiggle free, “I'm not finished with you yet.” He kicks the door open to his room, then shuts it with his hip. “You can get your clothes later. You won't be needing them for awhile.”

I can't say I'm unhappy about this turn of events.

I wake up, my throat dry and my body aching for some sort of refreshment. I slide out from under Sam’s arm, and grab his shirt off the back of the chair where it had landed earlier. He groans and rolls over, and I stare at him for a moment, taking in his long form as it stretches the full length of the bed.

I sneak out and leave the door cracked behind me, then turn towards the kitchen. Before I can take a step, a hand covers my mouth and I end up pressed against the wall. I have somehow managed to forget everything I know about self defense in my half asleep state, and only manage to weakly slap at the arm holding me against the wall.

“Shh, it's me!” The hand disappears from my mouth, and I glare at my would be assailant.

“Dean, what the hell?!” I give him a playful shove and he grins, his moss green eyes glinting in the low light of the hall.

“What are you doing up?”

“I could ask the same of you! I’m thirsty, I'm getting a drink.”

He shrugs, “I’m hungry, thought I'd get a snack.”

“Oh, well, then we can go together.” Suddenly, he's standing far too close, and I realize how little clothing I'm wearing.

“Not exactly the kind of snack I was thinking about.”

“W-w-what do you mean?”

He takes another step, and his body presses against mine, “I think you know exactly what I mean.” He fingers the buttons on Sam’s shirt, his eyes roving from my face to where it's hanging open down to the third button. “You expect to just fuck right outside my door and not expect consequences? Seriously?”

“We thought you were asleep!” I rush out, panicked.

“I'm gonna stop you right there. Sammy knew damn well I wasn't asleep, and, even if I was, do you really think you were being that quiet?” His hand slips under the soft fabric and he squeezes my breast, running his tongue over his bottom lip. “I could hear every little moan and whimper that was coming out of you. Not like I haven't before, but knowing you were just on the other side of that door…” he trails off and brings his gaze back up to meet mine.

“Listen-”

“I get it, you and Sam. I'm not blind, I can tell. But I also know neither of you have done anything about it, and I owe Sammy some payback.” He leans down and wraps his lips around my nipple and I can't help but groan; his tongue is sinful, and he hasn't even done anything yet. His tongue swirls around the pebbled skin, and I can feel goosebumps run down my arms and legs. He lets go with a quiet pop, and puts his forehead against mine. “You've gotta be quiet, that's the rules.”

“Then how’s Sam gonna know?” I draw a sharp breath as Dean’s hand wanders under the hem of my shirt, his fingertips brushing along my wet entrance like a feather.

“Oh, he’ll know.” His fingers move up and down, the rough pads gentle against my sensitive skin. With each pass, they move a little deeper, but then he pulls back, his thumb barely grazing my clit as he plays, his forehead still pressed against mine.

“Dean…” We shouldn't do it...but he's right. And honestly, the way his fingers feel against me right now, common sense isn't playing a part. “Please…” He slips one finger inside, curling and twisting it while he pushes in and out, and suddenly his mouth is on mine, swallowing the moan I can't hold back.

He tastes like whiskey, and his five o’clock shadow is rough against my face. It's one of those delicious burns, and I open my mouth for him, our tongues meeting as he explores. It's different than kissing Sam, almost softer, but there's a hidden edge I can't quite put my finger on. I nip at his bottom lip, and it's his turn to groan into me. He pulls away and smirks, then drops to his knees in front of me.

“What are you doing?”

He raises a brow as he looks up at me, “Do I really need to answer that question?” Both hands are under my shirt now, and he pushes my legs further apart. He ducks under my shirt, and I cry out as his tongue drags along my folds, working in tandem with his fingers as he adds another one. “I said,” he mutters against me, sending vibrations to my core, “you've gotta be quiet.”

I drop my head back against the wall, my chest heaving. He laps at me, making happy little grunting sounds as he moves. I can already feel the warmth building in my belly, and I bury my fingers in Dean’s hair. “I'm not gonna last much longer, Dean,” I whimper. He lifts one of my legs and puts it over his shoulder, and the change of angle nearly pushes me over right then. He sucks my clit into his mouth, his fingers pistoning in and out, and then suddenly the world goes black. He doesn't stop, and I tighten my grip on his hair, riding his face as a second orgasm rips through me.

I finally relinquish my hold on him and he drops my leg, standing up so that he's still up against me. I'm pretty sure it's the only reason I'm able to still be upright.

“You alright?”

I nod weakly, “I would say I'm more than alright.”

“Good.” He backs up and I walk to Sam’s door.

“So you're okay with-” my thought is interrupted when I see Sam, sitting up in bed, the blankets pooled around his waist. “Sam? Did you hear…?”

He swings his legs over the edge of the bed, and his muscles ripple down his back as he shifts. He stands up, and it's very obvious that he heard us. “What do you think?” He walks closer to me, seemingly oblivious to Dean standing right behind me, “One Winchester not enough?”

“Listen, man, it's my fault. It wasn't her idea-”

Sam’s gaze shifts from me to Dean, and the older Winchester, in a surprising turn of events, stops talking. “It's alright, if that's what she wants…” He reaches out, his fingertips brushing the buttons like Dean’s had done only moments before, “Is that what you want? Both of us?”

What is happening? “I...I don't know…” My mind may not know the answer, but my dripping cunt does. I squeeze my legs together, trying to find some sort of friction, and Sam notices the movement.

“I think you do know.” He fingers the buttons some more, as if contemplating what he should do with this information, then slowly begins to pop them open. He slides the shirt apart enough so that just a small part of my breasts peek through, and my mind is racing. The look on his face, the slow, calculated movements...it's Sam, but it's not, and for some reason it's one of the hottest things I've ever seen.

He looks back to Dean, his expression softer than earlier, and, though I can't see his brother’s face, I know they're doing that silent conversation thing reserved only for those close enough to understand it. He nods, then looks back at me, the corner of his mouth turned up. His hand traces up the edge of the shirt, his fingers slipping under it at the shoulder. He carefully slides it off, pushing it down my arm, and his other hand repeats the motion on the other side. The shirt slips off and hits the floor, and he takes another step towards me. I can feel his arousal pressing against my stomach.

Suddenly, his lips are on mine, desperate and hot. There's no gentle exploration this time; his tongue pushes its way against mine hungrily, and his large hands grip my bare ass, pulling me roughly into him. He bites at my lip, pulling gently before letting go and traveling lower, planting sloppy kisses along my jaw and down my throat. He spins me around so that my back is against him, one of his hands roughly cupping a breast while the other travels between my legs, spreading me apart as Dean watches.

“You're already so wet, Y/N...wet, and warm, and tight.” Dean gives a strangled groan as we lock eyes and Sam plunges inside of me, two fingers moving in and out as his thumb rubs my clit. “What do you think? Should we let Dean in on this, too? Say the word, and we won't. It's up to you.”

I can't think, not with his rough fingers dragging in and out, and the obscene noises they’re making as he continues his ministrations. “Y-yes…” my wrecked voice is quiet, but they both hear me. Sam walks backwards with me as Dean follows, needlessly shutting the door behind him.

He turns so that I'm facing the bed and he pulls himself free. I look over my shoulder in time to see him lick his fingers clean, slowly and deliberately, and my mouth drops open; this is a Sam I've never seen, and I can't say I wouldn't like to see him again.

He steps out of my line of sight, and I feel a different set of hands running down my back, gripping my hips before traveling to the globes of my ass. He turns me to face him and Dean’s eyes are dark with lust. “How do you feel about me going first, sweetheart?”

I finally find my voice as I grab his belt buckle, “I think you're wearing too many clothes.” I make quick work of it, and, as he shimmies his jeans down his legs, pulling his boxers with them, it seems like everything is going in slow motion. This is going to change things, major things, and I'm left wondering if any of us are ready for it. Then Dean is pulling off his shirt, tossing it to the side, and suddenly the moment is over and I feel everything ten fold.

Dean gives me a gentle push backwards and the backs of my legs hit the bed. I plop gently onto it and shimmy backwards as he stalks towards me, like I'm some kind of prey. He grabs my ankles, smooths his hands up my calves and up to my knees, then pulls my legs apart. His fingers trail up my thighs, brush past my aching core, and move up to hips as he positions himself between my open legs.

“I think it's time we get to the main show, don't you?” he asks with a smile, and I can feel him, hot and heavy, against the inside of my thigh. He reaches down and strokes himself a couple of times, then slowly eases in.

I gasp, and, though he's not quite as big as Sam, it's still enough to burn as I adjust to his size. “Oh...Dean…”

Despite being filled by Dean, I still can't help but wonder where Sam is. I roll my head to the side and find him sitting in his desk chair, legs sprawled and dick in hand as he watches, his eyes narrowed as he focuses on me. Dean starts to move, slow but deep thrusts that pull my attention back to him. “How's that feel, huh? Feel good?”

“Mmhmm...so good.” He looks down at me, his bottom lip between his teeth as he moves, and I would give him anything in that moment. Absolutely anything. I grab the backs of my thighs and pull my knees closer to my chest, and he goes even deeper.

“Oh fuck, Y/N, you're gonna kill me…” he moves my hands out of the way, replacing them with his own, and pushes, spreading my legs further apart as he bears down.

I roll my head again to look at Sam and see that he's mesmerized by the way my tits are bouncing, stroking himself in time to every move. I reach up and start plucking at my nipple, grabbing a fistful of tit as I roll my stiff bud between my fingers. When he finally looks up and meets my eye, a look is all it takes.

He quickly moves from the chair to the bed, kneeling on the floor by my head. Despite his roughness earlier, he smooths the hair from my face, kissing me deeply and swallowing the moans coming out of me as Dean continues to thrust, then moves down and captures my nipple in his mouth.

“Sam...fuck…” He bites gently, flicking his tongue in time with Dean, while still stroking himself. “Dean...I need...can you…” I can't form a coherent sentence, not with both of them touching me, but he seems to understand.

“Flip over, sweetheart,” he pulls out and lets my legs drop, and I roll over onto my belly. He grabs my hips and yanks my ass up, teasing my entrance with the tip of his cock.

“Dean, please…”

“Please, what?”

“Please fuck me, and quit teasing.”

He laughs, and I nearly come the moment he slams back into me. He's not as gentle this time around, picking up speed as he nears his own climax. I look at Sam and lick my lips, and he understands immediately what I want. He stands up, dick eye level, and I wrap my lips around him. Each thrust Dean gives causes my mouth to go further down his shaft, and he groans when he feels himself hit the back of my throat.

He grabs a handful of hair and begins practically fucking my face, and for a moment all you can hear is the pornographic sounds of skin slapping skin, muffled moans, and the wet sucking of my cunt swallowing Dean’s dick.

“I'm gonna come, Y/N,” Dean grinds out, his rhythm faltering as he gets closer. Sam pulls away from my mouth and steps back, and I look over my shoulder at him. “Come with me, I wanna feel it.” He reaches around and starts rubbing my clit, and I start pushing back against him, meeting his thrusts with my own.

“I'm so close, Dean, please...don't stop…” He slams into me two more times and I'm done for. I come, hard, and Dean grabs my hair as he spills inside of me, growling and cursing under his breath. He pulls out slowly, and I collapse onto the bed, unable to hold myself up anymore.

I feel the bed shift as Dean stands up, and then again when Sam slides in next to me. I open my eyes to see him looking at me, his hazel eyes like sunflowers. I smile and he tilts his head.

“What?”

I shrug, “Just...you have really pretty eyes.”

Sam smiles back, a genuine smile that I rarely get to see, “I think we've sexed you into madness.”

I shake my head, “Not possible. I've still got at least one more in me.”

His hand slides across my thigh, and he dips a finger along my folds. “As wet as you are, I'm not sure there's enough friction for you to even enjoy it,” he says with a laugh, pressing his thumb to my clit.

I arch my back and close my eyes as his thumb makes lazy circles, “You'd be surprised.”

He props himself up on his elbow, looking down as his hand teases my entrance, a finger dipping in and back out, tickling my clit and moving down. I open my eyes to see Dean walking towards the door.

“Where are you going?”

“Uh, well, I thought my part here was done, so I was just gonna go back to my room.”

“I want you to watch.”

“What?”

I wiggle my hips against Sam’s hand and sigh, “You heard me.”

“Okay, then.” He moves to the seat Sam was just occupying and sits down. Sam settles in on the other side of me so I can see Dean and continues what he was doing. Dean watches with hooded eyes, and I roll my head so that I can see him better. Despite just getting off, he's already half hard again.

Sam slips a finger inside me, and I groan, never losing eye contact with Dean. His cock twitches and I can tell he wants to touch himself. I nod, and his hand wraps around his dick. Sam adds another finger and I can't concentrate on Dean, all I can feel are his two large digits pumping in and out of my wet cunt.

“Sam, that feels so good,” I mewl, breath catching at how full I feel. “Lay on your back.”

“You sure?”

I nod, and he rolls over so that he's laying on his back instead of his side. I reach down and stroke him, though he doesn't need much help at this point. I plant a knee on either side of him, then line him up and sink down. I take a minute to adjust to his size.

“Oh my God, Y/N. You feel so fucking good.”

I laugh as I begin to rock back and forth, “We just did it a little bit ago!”

“I don't think I'm ever going to get used to how amazing you feel. Fuck…” I add some bounce to my gyrations, and glance at Dean, who is watching my every move as he strokes himself. Sam's hands grip my hips and I know there will be bruises in the morning; in all honesty, I kind of hope there are.

“Shit...Sam, I need more, please.”

He plants his feet on the mattress and begins fucking into me as hard as he can. I lean back on my palms, aching for a final release. Dean is watching me hungrily, his eyes on my tits as the bounce with each thrust. Must be a Winchester thing.

“C’mere, Dean,” I pant out as Sam’s thumb finds my clit again. “You're almost there, aren't you?”

“Fuck...yea…” he walks over to stand next to me, and I suck him into my mouth, twirling my tongue around his head as Sam pounds into me. Dean buries his hand in my hair, grips it as I move, and it's like Sam can't stand the thought of sharing me. He moves faster, lifting me almost off his cock before slamming me back down on it. I add a hand to work with my mouth and Dean cries out, a strangled moan as he comes in my mouth, hot and thick. “Holy shit.” His voice is wrecked, but I don't have time to respond. The build up I've been feeling finally hits the edge of the cliff and I'm about to fall off of it.

“Sam, I'm so close…ohhh, I'm going to...I'm coming, Sam!” My legs tighten against him and I clench around him as he also comes, milking him of every last drop. After the high of it wears off, I roll off of Sam, sighing at the sudden emptiness of him pulling out. He puts his arms around me, and though he's like a furnace, I can't help but hold onto him.

Dean sits on the edge of the bed, “Well...that just happened.”

I smile sleepily, nuzzling into Sam’s side, “Yea, it sure did.”

“Are you okay?”

I nod, “I'm not sure my legs work anymore, but who needs legs?” Both of them laugh, and it gives me hope that tomorrow won't be weird.

“We can always carry you around.”

“Mmmhmm…”

And then I'm asleep, lulled into sweet dreams against Sam’s solid form and the sound of the two brothers quietly talking.

I wake up to Sam’s large body curled around mine, his hand cupping my breast gently as he sleeps. I smile, happy to wake up with him beside me, then look around to find the room is empty besides us; Dean is gone. I carefully slip out of Sam’s grasp, and take a shirt from his dresser. As I'm slipping it on, I trip over one of his boots and hit the floor. I curse under my breath and wait for him to ask if I'm okay, but he is still passed out. Surprising, for a hunter, but after last night, not unexpected. I gather myself and limp out of the room, making a mental note to make a place just for shoes.

The bunker is quiet, and the kitchen is empty when I get to it. I shuffle around, regretting not wearing my fuzzy slippers, and put the coffee on. I pull out the toaster and toss a couple of pieces of bread in, then lean against the counter and wait for both things to finish.

“I smell coffee.” I look up to see Dean in the doorway, hair sticking every which way and eyes half closed.

“You do. Do you want toast to go with it?”

“Pie. I want pie.”

I laugh and nod my head towards the fridge, “There's still some apple in there, have at it.” He makes a happy grunt and detours towards the fridge. I pour a cup of coffee for both of us, butter my toast, and move over to the table to eat. Dean sits down in front of me and proceeds to eat the pie straight from the pan.

“Dean, listen-”

“I know, I should have gotten a plate, but I'm hungry and it's my turn to do the dishes so I don't really want to-”

“No, that's fine, I don't…I don't care about that. I meant about last night.”

“Oh. Yea, right.”

“It was great.”

“Yea, it was.”

“But…” I stir my coffee again, staring at the way the creamer swirls in the darkness of the bitter liquid, “it can't…we can't do that again.”

“Mmm.”

“It's just, it’s Sam, Dean. It's always been Sam. And I love you, I do, and you are good, but it just...it can't happen, okay?”

He sits quietly for a moment, and the euphoria I felt last night is gone. It should have never happened; the major change is coming right now. Not later, now, and I'm not ready for it. Then he looks up and smiles.

“I know it's Sammy. You two have been dancing around it for ages. I get it. Can't say I regret last night, but I understand.” He picks my hand off the table and brings it to his lips, kissing the top of it gently, “You're an amazing woman, and you and Sam...shit, you guys are perfect. I also can't say I'm not a little jealous, but I'll get over it. You deserve each other, you know?”

We’re interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat. Sam is standing in the doorway to the kitchen, watching as Dean drops my hand like it's burnt him.

“I, uh...I gotta go.” He stands up to leave then grabs the plate of pie, “I'm just going to take this with me. And then it's my turn to do dishes and laundry so, uhhh, if you need me, I'll be doing chores. For the rest of my life.” He disappears around the corner and Sam walks over to the coffee pot.

“Sam…”

“What?” He pours a cup of coffee, then leans against the counter as he drinks it.

“About last night-”

“Yea, I get it. Can't happen again. It's fine.”

“Sure, but that's not exactly what I was going to say.”

He sits his mug down a little too forcefully, then crosses his arms across his chest, “Listen, it's fine. When I woke up and you were gone, I knew. I'm not surprised that Dean got the girl, I just figured after last night-”

“Are you jealous?” I ask with a nervous laugh, and he frowns.

“You aren't my girl, so there's not really any reason to be jealous, right?”

I stand up from the table and walk up to him, putting my hands on his crossed arms. “What if I want to be your girl, though?”

His expression softens, “Do you?”

“Of course! I told Dean that as much fun as last night was, you are the one I want to be with. I love Dean, but not like that. You're the one I want to be with.”

“Really?”

I nod, “Really.”

He pulls me into him, wrapping himself around me and I sigh happily. He kisses the top of my head, and I smile up at him.

Maybe this isn't going to be so complicated after all.

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domiandsascha · 6 years

Text

Wimbledon diary ~ Tuesday the 3rd of July 2018

If you've followed my adventures at the French Open (x x x x x), you must know I don't do short reviews so… You've been warned :D

I arrived at Wimbledon early, alone (because Jue, my partner in crime, had to work until 1pm) and super stressed. We had tickets for Court 1, which granted us access to every single court except for Centre Court and Court 2. The order of play on Court 1 was Kyle Edmund, then Petra Kvitova, then Novak Djokovic. Pretty good and Jue was super happy that she wouldn't miss the beginning of Novak's match. Also the program on the side courts was awesome. BUT. Massive BUT. Bigger than Domi's but-- Shut up Helene. BUT, on Court 2, Sascha, then Domi were playing. And, I mean… What are the chances of having the both of them, on the same court, the exact same day I'm attending a tournament? One percent? Well, that was the one, I couldn't miss it and I was ready to sell my soul to the Queen for a Court 2 ticket. Few problems: The Queen was nowhere to be found (although I've heard that Meghan was around that day, I should have looked for her). I had only one ticket to exchange which made my task trickier as people, weirdly, have friends and family. And mostly, Wimbledon officials are crazy uptight and bound by rules. So the one rule I heard over and over again during my first hour in the resort was "Tickets are not exchangeable". It felt like I was talking to robots. One guy even told me I would be removed if I were to try and swap my ticket outside of Court 2. Seriously? Dude, come on, have some weed and chill… Anyway, I usually like and follow rules but I decided to completely disregard this one. I made my way to Court 2, at the very end of the resort, and started my quest, using my sweetest smile and sweetest French accent. It was still quiet as matches hadn't started yet, but there were already people waiting outside the court. I truly believed my "Edmund + Djoko" combo was gonna be super appealing to British tennis fans but it turned out it wasn't. The five first persons I approached bluntly replied "Absolutely not. Court 2 is way better today!" Well, yeah, I know… but you guys aren't supposed to think the same! The only interested guy I found had a girlfriend who had no intention of spending the day away from him… It started to feel like I was gonna fail, when I spotted a woman, obviously on her own and who seemed nice enough to hear me out. When I asked if she would be interested on swapping for a Court 1 ticket, she replied "No." She paused, just the time for my heart to break again, and then she casually added "But I've got a spare ticket for Court 2 if you want." OMG. It was good I was wearing my sunglasses because I legit started tearing up. She refused my money offer and just gave it to me. I could have hugged her, but she didn't look like the hugging type and I didn't want to scare her to the point of changing her mind, as we were about to spend the day next to each other. But I gave her my Court 1 ticket, which she gladly accepted. OMG. I couldn't believe my luck. I couldn't process I was actually gonna see Sascha and Domi. I couldn't go and sit down yet. I needed to calm down. I needed a coffee, three cigarettes, a wee and a walk. So I left Court 2 to go and explore the resort I had barely looked at earlier, too obsessed with my mission. Gosh, Wimbledon is so so so pretty, all green and purple and flowery. It makes you want to drink all the Pimm's and eat all the strawberries (but to do so, you'd need all the money…). I crossed path with Rafa in an alley, the exact same way I had at Roland Garros : he was surrounded by security, followed by a crowd of fans, super close yet untouchable (I mean, I could have touched him, but I wasn't taking any risk to be actually removed by security now that I had my ticket haha). But my timing is always quite amazing! I tried to go to the fanzone, which is the only place where players stop for pictures and autographs on their way back from practice, but it was packed so I turned around. I went to sit and drink my coffee on the Henman Hill, because apparently, you cannot go to Wimbledon and not sit once on the hill, and then I went back to Court 2 to watch the second set of Jo Konta's match. I discovered how good my seat was and I tore up again. OMG I was so close!!!! Jo was lovely enough to win her 2nd set tie break so there it was : Sascha time! I think I lost plenty of brain cells when he walked on court. I don't need to describe how amazing he looked in his white kit, you've all seen the pictures, but. Wow. And his hair is just perfection. He's truly a piece of sunshine. The 1rst set was tight, but I was too happy to stress. Plus he was playing really good and won it. The way he "Come ooooooooon!" after he got the break destroyed what was left of my brain cells. He also yelled in Russian at some point, that was hot. I was a bit disappointed with the British crowd, way quieter than the French one. It was deeeeead. The only person I could hear was Hugo, Sascha's physio, and his constant "Allez, allez, allez!!!!" haha. I tried to scream "Come on Sascha!!" once and ten people turned to look at me like "what the hell are you doing girl?" so I kept cheering for him in my mind. There was something highly disturbing : whenever Sascha was on his chair, and even sometimes on the court, he was looking towards me. I'm not saying he was looking at me, I know he wasn't, there was no way I was standing out from the rest of the crowd, no. He was probably looking at the score board above me. But as it felt like it, I chose to believe he was looking at me haha. Fun. He won the 2nd set super easily and I totally called the 3rd set bagel. I said it to Claire, my ticket provider, and she didn't believe me. But I was right. Sascha was doing everything perfectly and his opponent wasn't doing much anymore. So straight sets stress-free victory. Thank you Sascha! I think the gods of tennis should make it a regular thing : if I attend one of my favs' match, my fav should always win easily, for the sake of my nails, my hair, my stomach and my sanity. That'd be super great. Yeah. That would have been great to ask the gods before the start of Domi's match… Oh sadness… But let's start at the beginning. D.o.m.i.n.i.c. First of all, he was clean-shaved. Clean-shaved Domi makes me weak, it's not even funny. Second of all, he looked like an angel who could sin at any second in his white kit and I. couldn't. handle. it. Third of all, I just love him so much, it's unreal. I spent the entire warm-up staring at him, my hand on my chest, smiling like an idiot, feeling blessed. If a therapist were to ask me where my happy place is, I'd say "On a tennis court bleacher, ten rows away from Dominic Thiem". Also, just like Sascha, he was looking in my direction all the time, so my heart was crumbling. I was legit talking to him, moving my lips and all, just in case he would actually look at me at some point and understand my motivation speeches haha (spoiler alert : he obviously didn't…). Now, the match itself. Well… Not gonna lie, it's way more fun to watch him on clay. I didn't have much expectations for Wimbledon but I believed he could at least beat Baghdatis. Until he got broken. And lost the 1rst set. Then got broken again. And lost the 2nd set… I was mad at him, yet still hopeful at first, but I quickly made my peace with the idea I was going to watch him lose badly. Because he wasn't "there". He wasn't yelling at himself or fist bumping like he does when he truly wants it. He looked so out of it. I couldn't understand why, as I hadn't made much of his fall in the first set. Sure, it had been quite a bad and scary one, but he had stood up so quickly and acted like it was nothing. So it was nothing to me. I went out for a smoke between the 2nd and the 3rd set so when my friends talked about the physio in our group chat, it was a massive and very unpleasant surprise. I rushed back in and… baby… <///3 He looked so small and fragile, it broke me (and also, how do I become a physio on call please??). The 3rd set started really badly and at this point, it just felt like watching the inevitable. So it was almost a relief when he retired. It was still sudden and heartbreaking and disappointing as I wouldn't have minded an extra set of clean-shaved white-wearing Domi. But it was safer, all things considered. A small consolation : I'm 90% sure Günter spotted me from the box. He was on the opposite of the court but right in front of me and looking in my direction super often (really, there probably was someone or something super attractive on my bleacher!). At some point I was standing to stretch my legs and Günter kind of froze and removed his sunglasses as if he wanted to have a better look. His eyes were clearly on me, but I got too shy to wave or nod, stupid me haha. So after a few seconds, he went back to his conversation with Alex. But yeah, I believe he had a flash of "I've seen this girl before" and as I still want him to adopt me, it really pleased me. I left the court immediately after Domi did and ran to the side courts area. Jue had arrived during Sascha's match. She had been to Diego's match, then Karen's match, but she was now on Court 1 for Djoko. I was a bit torn between Karen and Mischa vs PH. But they were closer and as I managed to find a seat in the first (and only haha) row, I stayed there. PH was already two sets up and playing amazing. I was cheering for both though. After Domi, it was soothing to watch this match. Both outcomes would have made me happy. I realized towards the end that Alexander Senior and Irina Zverev were six seats away from me. When Mischa lost, we left the court at the same time. I walked right behind them in the crowded alley (didn't have any other choice) then I passed them, but I turned around on an impulse. My friend Aline really wanted me to ask them if she could marry their youngest son, but I'm not that bold haha. I just said congratulations for Sascha's win and wished them luck for the rest of the tournament. Alexander thanked me five times and Irina just smiled, nicely. Next time Aline, next time… I saw Nadal again, standing on a bridge above an alley and being a sweetheart. Karen had won so I tried to go see Shapo but the queue for his court was huge. So I went to buy a Pimm's (thought Domi's heartbreaking match called for some comfort alcohol) and decided to try and push my luck because why not ? I texted Jue to get our gate-row-seat number on Court 1, thinking I could pretend I had lost my ticket or something (I knew Claire wasn't on my seat then). Didn't even need to. Perfect timing being perfect, I walked in with a group. The security guys were too overwhelmed to check tickets. Haha! Epic win! So I finally joined Jue and we watch Djoko destroy Sandgren and everything was right in the world. Then we tried Shapo again. Impossible again. So we went to the court where Benoit was playing. As we've certainly been blessed by all the gods of tennis, after two minutes, we were seated, front row, next to each other. Benoit was so much fun to watch hahahaha. We laughed a lot. And we cheered in French, really loudly, so after he won, he smiled at us and gave us a thankful thumb up. He didn't come to our side to sign stuff but he had to leave the court same way as the audience. He spent so much time in the alley, taking pictures and being amazing with fans. We both got a selfie with him. Gotta love Benoit. We went back to Shapo's court and queued, but we didn't have much hope to get in. Our only chance would have been for him to lose the 4th set and we couldn't wish that to happen. So we just spent fifteen minutes, listening to the cheering, chatting with a French fan and following the England football game on our phones. Shapo won and I made my way to the bleacher just in time to see him wave goodbye. That's something I guess haha. There was only one match still on : Sharapova on Court 2. And again, we decided to try our luck. They were still checking tickets at the doors, which I found silly and unfair considering half of the court was empty. British people and their rules… Anyway, I showed mine and hid Jue behind me so she managed to sneak in. Truly, we win at life. I didn't think someone could be as loud as Maria, but I was wrong. Vitalia Diatchenko is. Their long rallies were hilarious to listen to. It was kind of a shocker to see Vitalia win this one, but she played great tennis so that was well deserved. And… that was it. Tennis was over for the day. So we wandered around the resort and then we left, hungry, tired but so so so so so so so happy. We're going back tomorrow. We're on Court 1. And. OMG AGAIN ! They put Sascha on Court 1!!!!! Ahhhhhhh! I was so sure they wouldn't!!!! I'm so happy! We'll also see Simona's match and Kyrgios VS Nishikori. I mean, we probably won't watch this one as Karen will be playing on a side court. So will PH and Nico! And also, Dennis Novak didn't finish today so unless it collides with Sascha's match, I'm so gonna go cheer the hell out of my lungs for him (and ask Günter to adopt me). I'M SO EXCITED!!!!!!!!!!!! Oh and if you're watching Sascha's match, I'll be wearing my green Germany jersey so you might see me on TV (they kept showing jersey-wearing people during Angie and Sascha's matches yesterday) :D Thanks for reading and thanks for all your lovely messages and comments when I said I had managed to swap my ticket <3

#wimbledon 2018 #dominic thiem #sascha zverev #helene writes

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pahrak-the-sinnoh-slizer · 2 years

Text

Super Fighting Roll (3-2)

(While Roll faces off against more of Doctor Cossack’s robots, her friends find themselves presented with challenges of their own.)

Tempo watched LaLinde type away, her console connected by a great web of wires to a contraption set up on a nearby workbench. It started out resembling a box, but as LaLinde typed, it unfolded, shifted, extended, shrank—it transformed again and again, until it jerked to a stop and, with a smoking burst of sparks, began to melt.

“Darn!” LaLinde said, smacking the console. “There’s so many things to balance: the reinforcement, the bonding agent, the power amplifier...”

A chime caught her attention. “Noelle?” came Dr. Light’s voice. “Are you there?”

“Oh, Thomas. Yes, I’m listening.”

“I have good news and bad news. Roll managed to defeat the Robot Masters we detected, but now Cossack has sent out a second batch of them.”

LaLinde rubbed her temples. “I had a feeling it wouldn’t be quite so easy…”

“Is Roll okay?” Tempo asked.

“She’s a bit banged up, but we’re repairing her right now,” Light said. “How are things on your end?”

“About as you’d expect,” LaLinde said, staring at the pile of slag that was once a semi-functional machine. “How much longer do you think it’ll take for Auto to finish pinpointing Cossack’s position?”

“It shouldn’t be long now—a day at most, I’d wager.”

“Hm. Well, we’ll keep trying. If we manage a breakthrough, we'll let you know immediately.”

“I know if anyone can do it, it’s you, Noelle. Take care.”

LaLinde sighed. As she began to pick apart the wiring, she said, “These are useless now. Tempo, could you grab another crate of wires from the warehouse? I should have this just about cleaned up by the time you get back.”

“Got it.”

The exterior of LaLinde Laboratories was covered in all manner of greenery, making it look more like a garden than a lab. When she had just about reached the warehouse, Tempo spotted movement in the nearby bushes. Upon closer inspection, she found a Robot Master with a honeycomb-shaped body pulling weeds, a half dozen or so bumblebees lazily orbiting him.

“There we are, little ones! That should keep your favorite flowers safe and sound.” He looked up as Tempo drew closer. “Oh, hey sis! How’s you and mom’s science project coming along?”

“Not well,” Tempo said. “I’m really doubting our chances of getting it working in time to help Roll.”

“Aw, too bad. But, Roll knows what she’s doing. I’m sure she’ll pull through.”

Tempo’s gaze turned skyward, watching the clouds drift by. “How can we be sure, Hornet Man? We can’t plan for everything. What if one of these new Robot Masters is able to get the better of her, and something terrible happens?”

Hornet Man cocked his head. “...How long has this been bothering you?”

Tempo looked back at the ground. “For a while now. Roll’s definitely incredible—her bravery has really inspired me. But...bravery isn’t enough on its own.”

“She’s got more than that,” Hornet Man said, picking up a watering can. “She’s got the determination and power to back it up, right?”

Tempo watched her brother in silence for a moment. “But she has to face it all herself.”

Hornet Man chuckled. “What about Rush?”

“Rush does make a difference, but still. Even if it helped me endure it, being brave isn’t what healed me. I was only able to get to where I am now because of you and mom. You’ve both done everything you can to support me, and to help shoulder the burden any way you can. We’re able to offer Roll some support, but…”

Hornet Man turned to look at her. “You aren’t convinced it’s enough to make a real difference.”

Tempo crouched, examining a row of flowers. “I’m not. She’s still out there fighting by herself, again and again. That’s her real burden, and I think it’s affecting her more than she admits...maybe even more than she realizes.”

One of Hornet Man’s bees drew near. Tempo held out her finger, letting it land, and then gently brought it to one of the flowers.

“If things stay the way they are...I’m scared of what might happen to her. How she might change. Lately she just looks so disillusioned all the time, forcing a smile for everyone else’s sake. But I’ve learned that to really smile...you also have to be able to cry when you need to. Emotions are a package deal—and no matter how awful they can feel sometimes, we need them. Roll will only make herself miserable if she keeps her heart totally closed off like this.”

Hornet Man knelt beside Tempo, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Okay. So. How are you going to get her to open her heart?”

Tempo thought for a very long time. Before her, more bees began to join their companion on the flowers. Finally, she said, “I can think of one way. But I don’t know if Mom will agree.”

“Tell her anyway.” Hornet Man grabbed both of Tempo’s shoulders now, looking straight into her eyes. “Listen...I can’t guarantee Mom will understand, but if anything does happen to Roll, you’ll regret keeping quiet. And that regret will eat away at you, make you close off your own heart again. I don’t want to see that happen to you, Tempo, so please: be honest about how you feel. Fight for Roll’s happiness, sure, but don’t forget to fight for your own too.”

Tempo stared at him for a moment. Then, with a nod, she said, “Thank you.”

She headed back to the lab; Hornet Man sighed and got back to his feet. A bee landed on his arm. Chuckling to it, he said, “Me, I need a little more time to build up my nerve...”

***

Blues ducked behind a tree as the robot he was following came to a stop. The snowy forest was almost eerily quiet—the crunching of snow beneath his feet had nearly given him away—and, after taking a look around, the robot moved aside some brush to reveal a trap door. He disappeared into it, and Blues waited a few moments before going over for a better look.

Hard to say what’s beyond this point. Still, I didn’t come all this way for nothing.

Blues armed his laser cannon. Keeping his shield high, he quickly threw open the door and leapt down, trying to survey his surroundings as swiftly as possible but finding the interior too dark to determine much of anything. Carefully, he took a single step. The lights flashed on, his visor the only thing protecting him from being blinded. The chamber was smaller than he had hoped, maybe one-eighth the size of a football field; scrap metal lay heaped against the walls, and a door with an electronic lock waited on the far side of the room. Immediately before it stood his target.

“Heh heh, glad you could make it!” the strange robot said. “I’ve been real eager to meet you, Bre...well, what should I call you? Hah hah hah!”

Blues shuddered. The machine’s voice sounded like a dozen speaking at once, each with their own intonation and speed—it almost made him seasick to listen. Setting that aside, he said, “Seems I need to work on my stealth. You already know me, so why don’t you introduce yourself?”

“I’m a failed prototype just like you. RKN-000, Doc Robot.”

“RKN, huh? Who made you?”

Doc chuckled. “Take a guess.”

“Hmph. I thought so. This does go beyond Cossack after all.”

Taking a few steps forward, Doc said, “You’re a smart guy, Break Man. But not a healthy one, from what I hear. Why are you out risking your well-being like this? Tell you what: I’ve got some connections. If I put in a good word for you, you could get one nice recharge, no strings attached. How about it?”

Blues smirked. “Hm. You really don’t want me finding out what’s behind that door, do you? Now I have to know.”

Doc crossed his arms. “...Is that your final answer?”

Blues made his point with his laser cannon. Doc leapt aside and extended one hand, summoning a Metal Blade to it.

“What a shame.”

Blues blocked the projectile with his shield, which let Doc close in and grab it. He ripped the shield away in an instant, shocking Blues into backing off, and then began shooting Needle Cannon spikes. Blues evaded and shot Doc in the leg before reclaiming his shield.

That’s definitely a Variable Weapons System. I can’t be sure which weapons he’s got, so I’ll have to stay on my toes.

A Hyper Bomb bounced harmlessly off Blues’s shield, but before he could think of countering, Doc used Air Shooter to send the explosive skidding right past him just as its fuse ran out. After rolling with the blast, Blues leaned to one side as he came up to avoid being decapitated by another Metal Blade. Doc fired a Gemini Laser and protected himself with a Leaf Shield, laughing as he watched Blues carefully weave around the ricocheting beam. The instant the laser faded, Doc fired a Magnet Missile to keep Blues off-balance, finally hitting him with a Hard Knuckle that slammed him into the wall.

“You’re losing your touch!” Doc said. “Guess I shoulda known defectives like us have a shorter shelf life!”

Blues raised his shield. Defective...is he really? The VWS seems to be working just fine. He must have some weakness I haven’t picked up on yet. What could it be...

He lowered his stance as he blocked a Thunder Beam. He fired back as fast as he could, but Doc jumped out of the way and used Bubble Lead, forcing Blues to make his own leap over the low attack. A string of Shadow Blades met him, but he endured the pain—landing, he rushed at Doc with his shield, and when the other robot batted it away, he thrust his cannon forward and seared a hole in the side of his torso. Shrieking, Doc sent him flying back with Top Spin.

“Huh...sneaky. But not good enough!”

A familiar sensation came over Blues. Recognizing it as Time Stopper, he feigned being affected by the weapon until Doc fired an Ice Slasher, dodging and striking back with his cannon.

“What?!”

“I may not be able to use it myself any more,” Blues said, “but I was still modified to be immune to that weapon. Surprised you didn’t know that.”

Doc gripped his buster and growled. “Well, I ain’t exactly short on options.”

In rapid succession he fired a Rolling Cutter, Quick Boomerang, and Magnet Missile. It wasn’t easy, but Blues was able to dodge all three. With so little space in which to do so, however, Doc had the chance to stick a Crash Bomber to his shield in the process. Blues managed to stay on his feet as the explosion shook him, but that’s when Doc charged forward cloaked in flames, using Blues’s own shield to pin him to the wall.

“You’re an idiot for following me out here, Break Man,” Doc said. “What was your goal, anyway?”

Blues pushed back to keep the shield from crushing him, only just succeeding. “Heh...hard to say. I’m pretty used to doing things with no real goal in mind. Gotta find some way to pass the time.”

Doc sneered through the opening in the shield. “You shouldn’t have stuck your nose where it didn’t belong! Now your time’s up!”

Blues smirked. “It’s been up for a while.”

He activated his laser cannon, part of the beam making it through the shield’s opening and blowing out Doc’s eye. The robot stumbled back, wailing in his chorus of voices, giving Blues enough time to get on his feet. He activated his cannon again, sweeping the beam in pursuit of Doc. Running out of room fast, Doc tossed a Hyper Bomb into the middle of the beam, the makeshift smokescreen giving him a chance to stun Blues with Spark Shock.

“Alright, I’m mad now!” Doc said as he aimed the weapons on his back. “I’ll melt you down!”

A torrent of fire flooded the room. Blues did his best to endure the tide, but soon his shield grew too hot to keep hold of. When he could bear it no longer, he dropped the shield and slid to the side. A Metal Blade sliced across his chest. He reeled, and a Hard Knuckle slammed him into the wall. Doc assaulted him with Bubble Lead as he hit the floor, soaking him to amplify the effect of the following Ice Slasher, before finally unleashing a Thunder Beam that left Blues lying still.

“Heh heh...that’s more like it.” Doc slowly walked forward, fiddling with the settings on his buster. “It was always gonna end this way, you know. Whatever weapon ammo you had left after fighting Roll couldn’t have lasted very long, meanwhile I was built specifically to push the limits of what the VWS is capable of!”

He stopped next to Blues’s discarded shield, kicking it up and grabbing it. Blues began to stir.

“But I’ll give you credit: you’re not quite as fragile as I was led to believe.” He came even closer, aiming his buster at Blues’s open chest wound. “Not quite.”

Feeling around, Blues’s fingers wrapped around one of the pieces of scrap littering the floor. With nothing else, he swung it forward as he pushed himself up—Doc’s Crash Bomb stuck fast to the end of the fragmented sheet of metal, detonating when it made contact with him. Doc took the brunt of the explosion, but Blues still shuddered terribly. Seeing that Doc had dropped his shield, he scooped it up quickly, and then hid behind it to try to catch his breath.

That must be it...which means…

Doc yelled. “Just stay down already! You stupid, rotten, good-for-nothing defective!”

Even hotter flames spilled from Doc’s weapons this time, and with the help of Top Spin he molded them into a fiery whirlwind that rampaged across the chamber. Blues stood his ground.

That just leaves one question...which of us will give out first?

Doc fired off a Gemini Laser, and that was when Blues sprang into action. Charging forward, he bashed his still-searing shield into his foe, then spun and used its edge to damage his arm joint. The Gemini Laser forced them both to move apart. Forming another Leaf Shield, Doc held his injured arm and glared at Blues.

“How much more is this going to take?” Doc asked.

Blues grinned. “How much more do you have to give?”

Doc’s remaining eye widened.

“I knew it. If you wanted to scare me by saying you were made to push the limits of the VWS, you shouldn’t have also told me you were defective.”

The other robot clenched his teeth, watching Blues circle around him.

“All those weapons, but how many uses do they each have? One or two? Three if you’re lucky? Whatever the exact number started at, I bet it’s getting dangerously close to zero now.”

With a grunt, Doc aimed his buster. “It’ll be enough!”

His Leaf Shield flew off first, nicking Blues’s own shield but doing no more. A Rolling Cutter and a Quick Boomerang moved to flank him, forcing him to slide out of the way and into a huge gust of wind. Blues managed to shrug off the Air Shooter, being sure to keep his wits about him, and narrowly dodged a Spark Shock. A Quick Boomerang came at Blues, but he batted it away and pierced Doc’s hip with his laser. Doc dropped to the floor; he tried to fire a weapon, any weapon, but nothing more came from his busters.

“No!” he shouted. “I can’t lose, not to such a useless reject! This isn’t—”

Blues pushed his cannon into Doc’s face. “It’s over. Now, are you going to give up your boss or not?”

“Hmph...think your pops would be proud of you offing random robots?”

“Like I ca—”

Doc swung for his head. Blues fired before he connected. After taking a moment to relax somewhat, he slung his shield across his back and turned to the locked door.

“Now. What is it you were so keen to hide?”

***

Once again, Roll intercepted the Robot Masters just outside the city. She could only see two: a gold one with an ornate ancient Egyptian headdress, and another with black and white armor carved into a skeletal likeness. The former stood tall with his arms crossed, nodding once as she drew near.

“At last, you arrive,” he said. “I am Pharaoh Man, leader of the Doctor Cossack Numbers. This is my second in command, Skull Man.”

The other robot stayed in Pharaoh Man’s shadow, diligently watching Roll’s every move.

“You have no hope of winning this battle. Surrender now, and I will grant you a swift and painless end.”

Roll said, “So you can do whatever you want to this town? No way. Why don’t you surrender before I have to hurt you?”

Pharaoh Man snorted. “Insolent whelp. Fine: if you desire to pass painfully, then I shall grant your wish.”

Roll opened fire with her buster to see how he would react. Skull Man leapt forward to intercept the shots, wrapping himself in a small vortex of spectral skulls that protected him from all harm. Before Roll could switch to another weapon, the ground next to her split open; amidst the spray of rocks jumped another Robot Master, this one wearing orange armor and sporting drill bits atop his helmet and at the ends of both arms. Knocking her back, he spread his arms and laughed.

“Watch out below!” he said. “I’m Drill Man! One wrong step and I’ll skewer you!”

He jabbed with one drill. Roll equipped Quake Drill and parried his strike, the sonic vibrations of her weapon stunning him for a moment. After blasting him away with Dust Crusher, Roll turned to realize Pharaoh Man had one hand held above his head, and above that, a bright ball of fire was rapidly expanding. She equipped Rain Flush, but Skull Man took aim with his buster. Roll was kept busy dodging until Pharaoh Man was ready: he hurled the fireball at her, forcing her to tumble out of the way, and Drill Man just narrowly missed her as he resurfaced again. Roll was forced to the edge of a nearby lake, carefully keeping balance on the bank, and activated a Rain Flush to send Drill Man tunneling back underground. Skull Man again protected Pharaoh Man.

Turning to Rush, Roll said, “Get ready, boy. I’ll move in while you listen for Drill Man—bark when you hear him coming.”

Rush nodded, pressing his ear against the ground. As the acid rain began to stop, Roll opened fire and ran forward, probing for some sort of weakness in Skull Man’s shield while being sure to listen for Rush. Instead of a bark, however, she heard a yelp and a small explosion. Roll spun around to see another Robot Master rising from the lake, keeping his submarine-like body half-submerged as he continued firing missiles at Rush.

“Rush!”

She moved to double back, but Drill Man appeared to knock her into Pharaoh Man’s range. Rather than one large fireball, he began to throw several smaller ones, keeping Roll on the move.

“You missed her, Dive Man!” Drill Man said. “Pick up the pace next time!”

“I don’t see you doing much better!” Dive Man said. “Maybe if you took the time to—”

Rush jumped at him mid-sentence, clawing him in the face before latching his jaws onto the large robot’s shoulder. Pharaoh Man turned to look. Spotting an opening, Roll launched a Ring Boomerang—Skull Man tried to intercept, but the thin projectile slipped between the cracks in his barrier and knocked him back into Pharaoh Man. Roll blasted them both with Dust Crusher before sprinting at Drill Man, knocking him back with one charge shot before stunning Dive Man with another.

“You okay, boy?” Roll said as Rush bounded to her side. “I’m so sorry…”

Picking himself up, Drill Man said, “Well, what were you expecting? If you don’t want him to get hurt, don’t bring him to a fight!”

Roll clenched her teeth. Blinding Drill Man with Flash Stopper, she ran at him and unleashed a point-blank Dust Crusher. She whirled to see Dive Man firing at her. Rush quickly closed in, using his coil to launch her out of harm’s way, and then flew up to catch her and circle around. Pharaoh Man was on his feet now, resuming his earlier volley. Roll summoned another Acid Rain to render the fiery projectiles useless. Rush swerved hard to one side to avoid more of Dive Man’s missiles, but Drill Man shot one of his drills in the direction he had moved—it rocketed up and struck Rush head-on, sending him into a spiral.

“Hah hah, serves you right!” Drill Man said, already heading back underground.

Roll was fuming. Dropping down, she took a set of missiles that had targeted Rush, and landed right on Dive Man’s shoulders. Pressing her buster right against his head, she used a Dust Crusher to blast him back and let the recoil launch her onto the shore. She then switched to Quake Drill and kept the weapon pressed against the ground as she ran.

“There you are!” she said.

Drill Man emerged a moment later. Spinning just in time, Roll evaded his attack and countered, stabbing the Quake Drill right through Drill Man’s face. He shouted, but fell silent as the weapon’s vibrations shattered his main processor. Roll scowled down at his deactivated body as she copied his weapon.

“Serves you right.”

She spotted Rush stabilizing not far away. Roll took off in that direction, keeping one eye on the water while the other watched Pharaoh Man as he took aim once more. There was enough distance between them that dodging the fireballs was easy; she managed to make it to Rush’s side just as Dive Man resurfaced. Equipping Ring Boomerang, she sent a flurry of shots at the aquatic Robot Master as he charged towards her. The rings did minimal damage to his armored body, letting him continue forward without flinching. Just as he reached the edge of the lake, he fired two Dive Missiles that detonated on the ground in front of Roll, creating a cloud of debris that hid him from view. A second later, he shot out of the cloud and tackled Roll.

“I see you’re every bit as merciless as we’ve heard,” Dive Man said as Roll flew backward. “If this is what the prototype is like, then I guess it makes sense Robot Masters are forced to fight.”

Roll picked herself up and immediately fired a Drill Bomb. The rocket-powered drill managed to pierce Dive Man’s armor, leaving a gash in his side before exploding. “So this is my fault? Fine! I don’t care—just drop dead!”

Dive Man prepared to attack, but Roll interrupted him with a Flash Stopper. She fired more Drill Bombs, the explosions knocking him back and forth, steadily tearing away his armor. Out of the corner of her eye, Roll noticed Pharaoh Man and Skull Man drawing closer. Keeping them at bay with a Rain Flush, she closed in on Dive Man and fired one more Drill Bomb, the weapon ripping his processor right out of his body. Roll wasted no time in copying his Dive Missile.

“Come on, Rush.”

When Rush didn’t respond, she turned to find him staring at her from a distance. His ears were pulled back, and he kept his head low, crouching slightly. Roll went still.

“...Rush? It’s okay, I—”

One of Pharaoh Man’s blasts struck her in the back. Roll whirled, ready to strike back, but stopped herself.

“Please,” she said, “can’t we stop now? Isn’t this enough?”

Pharaoh Man said nothing at first. Skull Man whispered something to him, and then he began charging another attack. “We will not yield. I shan’t fail Dr. Cossack.”

He hurled a single large fireball at Roll. Shooting a Dive Missile, she was able to cancel out the attack, and after glancing back at Rush she moved in. Skull Man opened fire as soon as she was within his range. She got as close as she could while still evading shots, returning fire when she could but being repeatedly foiled by Skull Man’s barrier. Pharaoh Man soon had another charged fireball for her, but as he threw it she fired a Dust Crusher—a shot from Skull Man grazed her in the process but it wasn’t enough to stop her. The bomb detonated on contact with the ball of flame, the force of the resulting burst of shrapnel finally separating Pharaoh Man and Skull Man. Roll quickly fired a Drill Bomb at Skull Man, pinning his arm to the ground without detonating it, and then turned to Pharaoh Man.

“Why are you so set on this?” Roll asked. “Is Cossack’s ego that important to you?”

Pharaoh Man triggered his weapon and swung his arm, executing a flaming swipe that knocked Roll back. “Ego has nothing to do with it! You have no idea what’s at stake!”

Roll faked left, then fired a Dive Missile right, sending Pharaoh Man sprawling. “Are you going to tell me?”

Pharaoh Man came up on one knee. He paused a moment, then grunted. “I cannot.”

Roll slid back as heat burst from the ground around Pharaoh Man. The other robot lunged at her, but Roll stopped him dead in his tracks with Flash Stopper. Pharaoh Man stumbled back cursing. Roll equipped Drill Bomb and took aim, preparing to fire when something slammed into her back. She sprang up to see Skull Man, minus one arm—the appendage still lay where she had pinned it.

Really?!

She slid out of the way, betting that Pharaoh Man had recovered by now. He had. His next attack headed straight for Skull Man, but the skeletal robot summoned his barrier and took no damage. Roll took the time this afforded her to equip Ring Boomerang and begin emptying its ammunition. The projectiles circumvented the shield and sliced Skull Man to bits, and by the time Pharaoh Man punched her away it was already too late.

“Even Skull Man…” he murmured. “You even defeated Skull Man...but I won’t give up!”

Roll raised her arms. Pharaoh Man shielded his eyes, anticipating a Flash Stopper, but she instead used Rain Flush. The downpour hurt them both, but Pharaoh Man took a moment to react, and Roll used that moment to get to Skull Man and copy his weapon. Pharaoh Man’s attempt to stop her was ineffective against the barrier she summoned.

“For her sake…!”

Pharaoh Man put both hands forward, charging a massive ball of fire. Being so familiar with how the Skull Barrier worked, he knew exactly when it would run out, and that was the exact moment he fired. The attack was so large he couldn’t even see Roll, not until she came sliding out to his side and blinded him with a Flash Stopper. A half-dozen Dive Missiles sent him to the ground, and a Drill Bomb pinned him there. Grabbing the drill, he began to pry it free, but the bomb detonated before he could.

After copying Pharaoh Man’s weapon, Roll disarmed her buster and turned to Rush. The dog was still keeping his distance. She knelt, saying, “It’s okay, Rush. I’m sorry I scared you like that. I’m okay now.”

Rush slowly walked over to her. Roll gently set her hand on his head, and after a few seconds he came close enough that she could hug him.

“I’m so sorry, Rush.”

When they separated, Roll ran a hand over her face and took a deep breath. She surveyed the battlefield one last time as she activated her communicator.

“I’m all done here, Dr. Light.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Light said. “Auto’s just finished tracking down Dr. Cossack’s base, and I’ve yet to receive any additional transmissions. The end of this ordeal is in sight.”

Roll wished she could feel relieved by that, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t feel anything. “That’s good. I’m ready to head back now.”

#Mega Man #fanfiction #Roll #Roll Reversal #Super Fighting Roll #what no I totally didn't almost forget hahaha

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