Damian meets Danny at the animal shelter we’re they’re both volunteering at. The two slowly becomes friends with each visit. Eventually they’re doing all their tasks purposely together. Feeding, walking, and bathing the animals as they talk.
With them getting to know each other Damian learns that Danny, despite being the same age as him, lives alone in an apartment in Crime Alley.
This greatly displeases Damian, and he’s honestly not sure what to do to help his friend. Especially, when Danny refuses any monetary assistance.
That is until the animal shelter announces their annual adoption day event.
Bruce when Damian first started volunteering at the shelter said that he wasn’t allowed to adopt any of the animals. He never said that he couldn’t adopt a sibling.
i neeeed drunk arthur sneaking into reader’s tent for your writing sprint!! 🫶🫶🫶 all the fluff and arthur being touchy yet uncoordinated
Haha this one is so sweet and fun!! Loved writing it!! Thank you so much for your ask, little anon 🫶
A close sound suddenly pulls you out of Moprheus's realm, the darkness of the night still deep and thick as your eyes struggle to open. There's definitely someone outside your tent, a blurred form moving at the entrance.
The flaps suddenly open as the person stumbles inside, boots bumping into the little piece of furniture you use as a dressing table, dragging your belongings down with it. You hear the intruder curse an annoyed "Ah, shit!" and mumble an unaudible complaint.
"Arthur, is that you, honey?" You manage to ask in a sleepy voice, amusement starting to creep onto your face as you're realising what's happening. The outlaw snaps his head in your direction, and you catch his toothy smile even in the obscurity.
"Dar -hic!- ling! I didn't want t-to wake ya up."
He instantly let all the objects he had gathered to clean up his mess go, your little mirror crashing onto the ground. You sigh in a half-amused, half-desperate way. He is so drunk. "It's okay, big boy, come here." You whisper to him, pulling up your blanket and opening your arms.
Arthur doesn't even bother (or remember) to undress. He walks with difficulty to your cot, tripping at every step, hat falling on the ground during his final swing to you. He collapses almost entirely on you and instantly nestles his head into the crook of your neck, his burning body pressed against yours as your arms close their embrace around him. He's all messy and clumsy, the opposite of his usual attentive and restrained self, almost crushing you under him. You can still feel his huge torso hiccup and one of his legs is hanging off the bed. He speaks against your neck, the sound entirely muffled, and you assume by his intonation that he had said he loved you.
"Love you too, sweetie." You coo to him fondly. One of his hands not so subtly reaches for your chest, grabbing one breast and sighing contently. By the weight of him on your chest, you can feel he's already almost asleep, feeling his beatific smile on his face against your skin.
His snoring and heat soon accompany you back to sleep, too.
In many fics Danny gets his phd. In many fics Danny is the ghost king. Now I need a fic where just for maybe one sentence, they use the sentence ‘dr. King Phantom.’ For some reason or the other. The title just seems hilarious to me.
megan, darling sunshine, i have the softest of soft requests for you with our favorite cowboy. 🥺
can i request #6, #34, #36, #41, #83 with arthur? i desperately need protective, soon-to-be dad!arthur in my life. it's what we all deserve, honestly. 🤍
thank you so much! i can't wait to see what absolute magic you make with these prompts.
Deserving | Arthur Morgan / Reader
First off let me give you the fattest smooch <3
Word Count : 1.9k
Prompts : 6. I won't let anything happen to you, I swear. 34. I think you're showing. 36. You're glowing. 41. The baby loves hearing you sing/speak. 83. Was that a kick?
Warnings/tags : Cursing, talk of abandonment, Reader is 5 months pregnant, Arthur deserves a second chance at being a father, Self degrading talk on Arthur's part, Switch POV.
Arthur was aware it was a tad foolish the way he was feeling. Although seeing you growing his child has awakened something that had been lying dormant in him. Something that he hardly understood himself. A primal feeling, knowing that he was the one who made you like this. That it was his seed that had made you grow swollen and round and so damn gorgeous.
He was also painfully aware of the gold ring in his pocket, his nerves eating him from the inside out. He had never been so nervous in his entire life, more nervous than when he went on his first job. Unlike a job he had never felt more unprepared. He had always wanted children, and he had dreamed of having children with you. But Jesus, he was terrified he would turn out like his old man. He didn’t- no - he couldn’t mess up this time. Not with you. Yes, he loved you. God he loved you more than anything. Arthur did not necessarily believe in soulmates. Perhaps when he was younger he could have believed that his soul could be tied to another person, but he wasn’t that foolish anymore. Love was something you worked for, it wasn't predestined by whatever god was above. He knew you could easily find another man to love you, even with the babe. He also knew you deserved someone better than him. You deserved the world, deserved someone who would build you a home, someone who hadn’t been too damn chicken to ask you to marry him before knocking you up. But he also knew that no man could love you like he loved you.
“You’re staring Arthur.” You chuckled, raising a brow as you turned to face him. Your hand resting on your hip as you leaned on the boar skinned table.
“You’re glowing.” He said softly, not denying the fact that he had indeed been staring at you. How could he not? You were really glowing, he hadn’t known that that silly saying about pregnant women was the truth. You were like some angel, the glow coming from within, lighting up the small tent. If he squinted he swore he could see a halo around your head. Especially when your bump had finally shown itself.
You rolled your eyes, a smile tugging at your lips as you went back to whatever task you were working on. He walked up behind you, his deft fingers working on removing his gun belt. Laying belt down on the table before pulling you against his chest.
His hands lovingly squeezed your hips, before moving to your stomach. He sighed contently, laying his head in the crook of your neck. Breathing in your sweet smell, his calloused hands running over the soft fabric of your skirt. His heart nearly stopped as he felt the swell of your abdomen. Nearly brought to his knees by such a small thing. Well it wasn’t exactly small anymore, you had finally ‘popped’.
“‘Think you’re showing, sunshine.” He whispered, his breath tickling your ear as he swayed with you in his arms. You giggled, shying away from his lips as they brushed against your neck.
“I would say so, can’t fit in my damn pants anymore.” You chuckled, shaking your head as you continued to patch a hole in one of his shirts.
In all honesty, you hadn’t been able to fit in your pants for a long time. It had been almost four months since the fateful day you told Arthur you were pregnant.
-
You had all the telltale signs, breast tenderness, food aversions, etc. Along with Abigail’s damn knowing glances, and then your monthly cycle had been absent, confirming your suspicions. You had nearly gone mad, a million thoughts running through your head. How were you supposed to care for a child with the lifestyle you had? You had briefly discussed children with Arthur, but it was always in the future. When you weren’t being chased by the law or Pinkertons or whoever. You didn’t want your child to be raised how either of you were raised. Always on the run, never having a true safe place to call home. Speaking of the future, marriage had always been a talk for the future as well. Now you were here, an unwed mother.
And then there was Isaac and Eliza. That was a whole new can of worms to throw into the mix. Would he even want to have a child right now? Would he still want you after he found out? If he left you what would you do?
You would manage, that’s what you always did. But you didn’t want to go through this without him.
He had found you pacing near camp, nearly chewing your lip off. His heart constricted in his chest as he watched you.
“Everything alright darlin’?” He asked, pulling you out of your downward spiral. A similar concerned expression on his face as he took you in. You met his bright blue eyes and instantly you fell apart. Tears welled up in your eyes as he rushed over to you. Taking long strides across the grass before pulling you into his broad chest. His calloused hands warm and loving as they rubbed up and down your back, your body shaking with sobs you couldn’t control. “Darlin’ you’re scaring me.” He said softly, laying his chin on the top of your head. “Talk to me sunshine.”
“Arthur I think-“ You let out a shaky breath, “I think I’m pregnant.” You cried, tears clouding your vision as you looked up at him.
He was frozen, his brain short circuiting as he tried to process the words you had just said. He must have heard you wrong.
“What… what did ya say darlin’?” He asked, his hands on your biceps as he held you in front of him. His brows furrowed and his lips drawn into a thin line.
“I’m pregnant Arthur.” You said, your lip trembling as you waited for his response. You were trembling in his grasp, your heart pounding against your rib cage.
“Okay.” He nodded slowly, still trying to wrap his head around it all. Goddamn it Morgan, you’ve gone done it again. Are you seriously the most foolish man alive? His thoughts spiraled into their usual degrading speech. Here you were shaking in his arms like a damn leaf and he was too damn stupid to say anything. Say something, anything, to stop her from crying. Your tears tugging on his heart strings. “It’s okay, it’s okay.” He cooed, wiping away your tears with his thumb. “Don’t cry, please.” He said, pressing a kiss to your forehead.
“M’sorry-” You sobbed, looking down.
“Don’t. Don’t you dare apologize for this.” He said holding your face, “If anyone ought to apologize, it should be me.” He said, shaking his head. You bit your lip, looking up at him.
“Arthur, what are we gonna do?” You asked, finally calmed down enough to speak a coherent sentence. He clenched his jaw, looking off to the side.
“Do you want this?” He asked softly, running his hand down your arm. Taking your significantly smaller hands in his, squeezing them gently.
“I-“ You sighed, letting out a long breath. “I think I do.” You nodded, hesitantly raising your head to look at him. He exhaled a breath of relief.
“Okay.” He nodded, “I want this too.” He said, giving you a reassuring smile. You couldn’t help but let out an equally relieved breath, a small smile tugging at your lips.
“Yeah?” You asked, chuckling breathlessly.
“Yeah.” He nodded, chuckling along with you. “You know I won’t let anything happen to you, you or the baby, I swear.” He said gently pulling you closer, his hand moving down to caress your stomach.
-
You smiled at the memory as Arthur rubbed his hand over your bump.
“They movin’ any?” He asked, kissing your cheek.
“They have been most of the day.” You chuckled, following his lips with your cheek as he pulled away. You turned around in his grasp, laying your hands on his chest. “They’d probably move if you talked to them. You know how the baby loves hearing you talk.” You said, smiling up at him. He grinned, his eyes sparkling with pride.
He knelt down, feeling his mothers ring slide lower into his pocket. As he knelt face to face with your round belly, he couldn’t have been more thankful that Mary had returned his ring. That things hadn’t worked out between them, because if they did, he would have missed this.
He pressed his lips against your belly in a chaste kiss, before chuckling softly to himself. “Hey there kid.” He said, his grin growing if that was even possible. “Ya bein’ good for ya mama?” He asked, running his hand over the tight skin. He felt a small kick under his palm, looking up at you for confirmation that it wasn’t a part of his imagination. “Was that a kick?”
“Sure was.” You chuckled, laying your hand over his. He chuckled, shaking his head as he stared at your belly. There had been too many nights lying next to you on his small cot, twirling the ring in his fingers. Just trying to work up the courage to ask you. Even before your belly started to swell he had dreamed of asking you. He just wanted everything to be perfect, although in hindsight it was a foolish thought. Things would never be perfect, that was the thing wasn’t it?
Now was the time. He knew it, kneeling here in front of you, but how was he gonna ask? How was he gonna get past the lump in his throat?
“Hey kiddo, ya think I could have a moment with your mama here?” He asked, a nervous smile on his lips as he looked up at you. “I got a question for her.” It was now or never. He reached into his pocket, his sweaty fingers grasping the small gold ring. He took in a deep breath before finding your gaze, holding out the ring to you. You gasped, covering your mouth with your hand, tears pricking your eyes.
“This… well this ain’t how I imagined this. I wanted to do something special for ya and I should’ve done this a long time ago. I promised ya when we found out about the kid I wouldn’t let anything happen to ya. I mean to keep that promise. There are men more deserving of you, hell I’m probably the least deserving-“ You scoffed shaking your head, “But none of those men could ever love you the way I do. So, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” He asked, gingerly holding your left hand.
“Yes, yes!” You cried, grinning as he slipped the ring onto your finger. He let out a breath of relief, getting to his feet. You threw yourself into his arms, laughing as tears slipped down your cheeks.
“It’s uh- I know it’s nothing fancy but-“ He said softly, “It was my mothers and I know she’d want ya to have it.”
“It’s perfect.” You said, pulling away to admire the ruby ring. “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” You chuckled, wiping away your tears as you admired the ring. Arthur’s heart warmed at your words. He would never know what he had done to deserve someone like you, you and the baby. Although he may not have said his vows at that moment, he made a silent one in his heart. As long as his heart was beating, and there was still breath in his lungs, nothing would ever happen to either of you.
I have an Arkayne request <3 in which Arthur is about to get killed by some creature and Kayne decides to intervene.
We know that is never going to happen but I think it'd be interesting if he did save him at least once because he doesn't want to lose his favorite pet yet.
Thank you!
Malevolent Mini Prompts are open! Any malevolent relationship or pairing and I'll try to write at least a short scene. Askbox open.
Beings that know themselves to be gods didn't understand flight, flight, or freeze. They didn’t know instinctual terror. Most of them were too divorced from reality because they were anti-reality. They were too ignorant to understand it. Those ones he can pop the head off of and move on.
Some were just stupid.
Taking Arthur. His Arthur. Was stupid.
Continue here or on Ao3
And yes, it was easy. It was so pathetically easy to kill an ant when you have access to a magnifying glass and the fucking sun, even when said ant had a fucking nuclear reactor powering its eyes, but it was poor taste to try to scoop up an ant from HIS antfarm. Kayne’s, Do Not FUCKING Touch had been written in sharpie in the very fabric of that reality.
But it didn’t matter. Fight, flight, freeze could FUCKING be taught.
Even to himself.
He followed the music, that old familiar tune that he’d yet to grow tired of.
This reality was ahead of Arthur’s time, but not too far ahead. The taste of cesium-137 in the air.
He was in a school. A university somewhere. It didn’t really matter where. It didn’t really matter when. It didn’t even really matter what reality.
He kicked in the door because he felt like it.
It was a lecture hall, a grand piano at the bottom. There was Arthur, bending into the music as if each press of the key was a hit to his soul.
“Catchy, isn’t it.”
There was a man. He wore white. White on white. He had a labcoat overtop.
That little detail pissed him off.
Oh! all of it actually. All of it REALLY pissed him off.
Arthur looked up, hearing the door, but not knowing his knight in shining armour had arrived until:
It’s Kayne! John sounded confused, which wasn’t a new look for him. The thing, and he still wasn’t sure what to call it anymore (Fragment? God? The King in Yellow? Man? Was he really just John? The John sounded like Kayne was going to take him out back and suck his-anyway), billowed yellow cloth and shadow that no one on this plane could see veiled Arthur in his golden form as if it might protect him. He was clinging so tightly, so panicked. John was afraid. Afraid for Arthur. That wasn’t new either.
He kicked in the door. He looks angry—
“Mister Lester,” the man in white said, patiently, with only a slight note of rebuke a professor might give to an unruly student. “Continue if you please. I didn’t say to stop.”
Arthur had paused the song at Kayne’s grand entrance. He gave a startled inhale. His fingers were back to dancing on the keys.
Kayne slowly started clapping. What else could he do? “Wow. Wow!”
“Mr. Kayne, is it?” The man in white turned his attention from Arthur (armour gone, in a gray pinstripe suit, yellow tie, hair brushed into order, clean shaven, oh and the colour choice was fucking noted too. Dressed his human up nice and pretty for this grand display).
Kayne slowly walked down the stairs.
“Does that fucking matter what I call myself?"
The man in white gave a delicate little snort. “Of course. None of the other names fit anymore. None of them matter anymore. Just the one you gave to him in a fit of amusement. Only Kayne remains.”
“Then that would mean you’re … Mr. Bell.” Kayne said nastily.
An unamused eyebrow raise.
“Abe Bell. I would know you anywhere!” Kayne spread his arms as if to offer a long lost brother an embrace. He skipped down more steps, but was still far from the bottom.
“Oh, yes, very amusing, I see,” Bell rolled his eyes. “I suppose, if that will make you feel better, fine. Abe Bell—Mr. Lester, please do behave yourself.”
Arthur had stopped playing again instead reciting a chorus of fucks and Jesus Christs. Usually music to Kayne’s ears, but not what Mr. Bell was looking for.
Does that mean he's fucking-they're both-Jesus Arthur we're so fucked.
The man in white stepped closer and put his hand on the back of Arthur’s neck and Kayne’s hackles rose. John shut the fuck up immediately.
Arthur went back to playing, something different now, yet another song dedicated to his dead daughter that rang so pure that the universe itself would use it as a backing score.
“So…” Kayne said slowly, putting his hands behind his back. “Why’d you take him?” He decided to start reasonable. He was curious actually. Arthur was-well... he was... he NEEDED Arthur. This particular Arthur. Middle C Arthur who was HIS Arthur now.
He had taken so many realities. Killed so many of himself. He didn't remember if he had had his own, but it didn't matter anyway, this one was HIS now.
Mr. Bell removed his hand from Arthur’s neck. He reached forward and pulled Arthur’s head back by his chin, gazing down at him. John’s golden eyes glared back.
“A beautiful lure.” The appreciation in his tone made Kayne gnash his teeth. “No, no, keep going Mr. Lester, you don’t need Hastur’s eyes to see the keys.”
Now Arthur, he knew about fight, flight, and freeze, down to his bones. So his fingers ran, his body kept perfectly still, and of course his mouth tried to start a fight.
“His name is John Doe, not Hastur. Now what the fuck is this about?” he demanded.
Mr. Bell gave an amused snort. “John Doe?” He let Arthur go. A little smile played on his lips as he turned his attention back to Kayne.
“I do see why he fascinates you so.”
“Bait,” Kayne said, even angrier now. “You’re using them as bait? I’m insulted! You think I care about—”
“Yes, of course,” Mr. Bell interrupted. He hadn’t moved from Arthur, still too close. “I know how I am about my projects. Mr. Lester must be a wonderful distraction to you. A pure source of pleasure. That isn’t even including the unique events that have allowed him to house the King in Yellow. Not to mention his similar resonance to the Black Stone. The unbridled joy he must bring you. Such a rarity.”
Oh, Kayne hated this guy.
“So … it’s like the city. I’m a lure,” Arthur said, unable to shut his mouth, his little detective brain putting the pieces together. “You needed him to come to you, you couldn’t go to him… because you’re not like him,” Arthur realized.
“OH!” Fuck Kayne wasn’t used to being a step behind fucking Arthur Lester.
What do you mean? Dandelion asked, who was all too familiar with the feeling.
“He can’t … move across the keys… like Kayne can.” Arthur guessed.
Mr. Bell turned, looking surprised. “Well,” he muttered, half impressed.
But he got us. If he can’t move between worlds—shit. He used the Dreamlands as a bridge. No matter who I am now I’m still connected to them, and their connection to reality is thin. He got us when you were sleeping. Lillith weakened the walls trying to control you, he took advantage.” There was a reason he liked Johnny.
“Oh, that’s cute,” Mr. Bell said, as if he were watching a couple of kittens smack a ball of yarn around. “Yes, boys you’re hypothesis is quite correct,” The fucker was pleased as punch. “Hastur—pardon— Mr. Doe is a bridge to the Dreamlands, my daughter walks in the nightmare paths, and I hold power over the Dreamlands and authority over the gods of Earth. With her opening Mr. Lester’s mind it was simple enough grab hold of Mr. Doe and pull you both here, even without Mr. Kayne’s ability.”
“Kayne has…” Arthur muttered.
How else could he have put Yellow in your head? John sounded scared now. We knew he was powerful, but—
“But enough about me,” Kayne said, voice hard. “Let’s talk about me!” he grinned. “I thought I was so thorough! I thought I had gotten every single one of me.”
“Not all of us are bat-fiends haunting churches,” Mr. Bell said in disgust. “I knew you would show up one day. I made my preparations.”
“And how did you know that?” Kayne asked. “Other than my own spin offs everyone else was so surprised. Eager to ask me to explain my little trick. Most of them didn’t see the knife coming.”
“Why don’t you explain it to him, Mr. Lester.”
“Uhm?” Arthur’s eyes widened. When he stopped playing he wasn’t badgered this time.
How the fuck are we supposed to know that? John growled, lashing out now that the fear had overwhelmed him.
"That's my boy!" Kayne cheered on John's anger. John only had half a limb, but he loved to fight.
“Oh,” Arthur said quietly. He turned his head in Mr. Bell’s direction. “You’re him. So the thought crossed your mind.”
Bell winked. “Oh my dear boy, I do wish I could keep you.” he smiled at Kayne a familiar kind of unhinged humour, but contained. No burst of laughter, but it was the same feeling, Kayne could see that. “It’s so rare that a little thing like you can know even a fragment of us so plainly.”
Kayne snapped rapidly bringing their attention back to him. “Right, right, right. I see. So you think to yourself one day: huh, wouldn’t it be swell to dance along the keys of the universe? And you find the grey stone, easy enough, most of us have, even papa’s favourite idiots. They don’t ask the right question though, but you do. They ask about the Black Stone and waste their fucking time, but you ask. You ask the right question. See exactly how to do it, but you don't follow through?”
“No, no follow through,” Mr. Bell agreed. “But infinite possibilities.”
“So you knew someone would decide to do it,” Arthur said, somewhat rhetorically, they had all got there. "You knew Kayne was coming because there had to be a version of you that would make that choice."
“John, tell toffee cake I’m rolling my eyes at him,” Kayne snapped.
“That’s right, Mr. Lester,” Mr. Bell said patiently. He had his hand on the back of Arthur’s neck again. “That’s far enough, Mr. Kayne.”
Kayne stopped his descent down the steps, only ten steps to the ground. He growled. “Stop touching him.”
He wasn’t possessive by nature or else John would already be back sobbing for mercy in the Dark World, but against this he felt a thread of pure rage. That was his .
Golden Eyes was an exception because he was also his in many ways.
But. Not. Bell.
Arthur’s breath picked up, aware that he was in deep shit.
Kayne’s here now, John said, trying to sound calm. He’s the one you’re after. Let us go. We’re nothing to you.
“Hm?” Mr. Bell glanced down at them. “Oh no, Mr. Doe, you don’t understand at all. I—”
Arthur shrieked. “FUCK!” his voice was high with pain.
Arthur!!
“I just broke his foot, Kayne. Please don’t test me.”
“You think I care if you break some of his bones?” He took another step forward. “I don—”
A pained howl answered him. Less surprised, but just as pained.
“FUCK!” Arthur yelled angrily. “Jesus Christ! Fuck you!”
“I don’t care if you hurt him, I like when he—” Kayne took another step.
A loud crack and Arthur was clutching his knee, tears streaming down his face. “Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck both of you, goddamnit!”
Arthur, your leg, it—
“Fuuuuuck,” Arthur hissed. “I know, John! I fucking know!”
“I suppose we can trade bone breaks for steps if you like,” Mr. Bell said. He had the nerve to squeeze Arthur’s shoulder as if to offer comfort. “But he won't live long if you if you do reach me.”
Kayne! Fix him! Do fucking something! John ordered.
“Of course you wouldn't know. I’m afraid he can’t do anything to help your friend, Mr. Doe,” Mr. Bell explained gently, his eyes never leaving Kayne. “Not until he kills me. Until he does, he can’t manipulate this reality and what's in it. That’s how he… gains keys if you like. Still a dangerous force to me, but not as powerful on a universal level.”
Then fucking kill him! John roared at Kayne.
“Working on it, daisy-dear,” Kayne sang, murder in his heart.
“Let’s drop the act, Mr. Kayne,” Mr. Bell suggested. “Whatever he is to you he’s important, you need him.”
“I can get a new one,” Kayne shrugged carelessly, lying through his goddamn teeth.
“You wouldn’t have bothered to come if that were so,” Mr. Bell countered. “Do you think he’s the first lure I’ve tried?” He stroked Arthur’s hair back in mock-tenderness.
“Now, where were we? Oh yes, Someone would do it. Someone would decide to kill every single version of himself in the multiverse—more than one. I take it you took care of the others?”
“Came right to me,” Kayne said.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Arthur muttered his emotions spiking like he had just figured something out.
Bell put both of his hands on Arthur’s shoulders. “My, you are clever. You've got it, haven't you?" he whispered in his ear hungrily. "I shouldn’t be so surprised. We don’t take interest in boring creatures. Why don’t you play something else?”
“Because you broke my fucking leg, you bastard!”
Bell placed his chin on top of Arthur’s head and squeezed his shoulders a little more forcefully. “Play something else, Arthur. Do you know Holst?”
“I never did much classical and he wrote for orchestra—”
“Mars.”
Arthur’s fingers trembled, but he reached out and started the dark repeating bassline. Hard and angry.
“Very good,” Bell took him by the head and kissed his crown, like a father might a favoured child and stepped away again.
“Alright, we have the mood music, are we going to do this or what?”
Bell shrugged, smugness radiating off of him.
“It’s a trap,” Arthur said. “It’s a fucking trap, Kayne.”
“John, tell him I’m rolling my eyes again.”
“No!” Arthur hissed. “Don’t you see? He’s doing what you did to us! He lured you here because he couldn’t get to you himself. He ensured there was a stick to keep you manageable. You’ve done all the work for him. You killed all your alternate selves! He wanted the version of you that killed everyone else. One person to kill instead of thousands! He made sure he was fucking ready for you!”
“He’s not fucking ready for me, Artie, don’t worry your pretty little head about it. You’ll be back to work before you can say—
Arthur coughed blood onto the white piano keys.
Fuck! Fuck! Arthur! Arthur!
And Bell still didn’t make a move. Just smiled at him with a serene, joyous smile. “That’s enough hints, Arthur. I’m surprised, I thought you would be one of the smart ones, Kayne, but I see now you’re sentimental. A romantic. Were you going to save Daddy, or stab him in the heart I wonder."
And still nothing happened save for Arthur’s pained whimpers, clutching his neck, vocal chords ripped out from the inside.
It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay. But John was begging, pleading that it actually would be, his hand shakily trying to hold a neck wound that wasn’t actually on the outside.
It wouldn't kill him, but Arthur wouldn't be talking without some godly intervention.
“Fine. It’s a trap. A great fucking trap. When the fuck are you going to spring it?” Kayne demanded. “So far all you’ve done is rough up Arthur and smugly tell me about your boring backstory.” He began to pace. “If you had anything you would have used it immediately.”
Which meant.
“Which means we’re not working on your timeline. We’re working on someone else's… okay, okay. You’re me. A boring lazy version of me that lets others have all the fun and get their hands dirty. But you have your projects, you… why don’t you want Arthur?” Kayne asked suspiciously.
Bell grinned at him.
He didn’t say he didn’t want him, John growled, his soul flaring. He said he wished he could.
Which would imply…
“Ah fuck. You are good. Johnny! Gonna need you on this one.”
Oh good, that confused Bell.
Arthur is—
“Going to die if you don’t manifest your ass immediately!” Kayne said. “He’s not a fucking lure, he’s an anchor and we’re in Hiroshima!”
And Kayne was moving. John flared out of Arthur’s soul. Didn’t take much to make him do anything when Arthur was concerned.
Oh and didn’t he HATE that he was in a similar position.
But sharing with John he could take for that very reason.
As expected John took the brunt of the blows meant to fuck up their human. Nothing Kayne couldn't fix later. John howled exploding with golden power. Arthur collapsed against the piano, not from Bell’s attacks, but from John’s energy flare. He wouldn’t die from that though.
Kayne couldn’t heal him here. Not until the fuck was dead. If Bell fucked Arthur up badly enough Kayne wouldn’t be able to do anything for him until after the fight. Bell had counted on a stalemate. No one being able to move until the grand finale.
Bell staggered back, not expecting an attacking old god (new god?). It was like an angry cat defending a bird from a tyrannosaurus, but the startlement was enough for Kayne to finally close the gap. He launched his fist into his own smug face.
“We’re in fucking Hiroshima!” he screamed at himself. “You’re trying to kill me with a fucking A-bomb?”
Another punch.
Bell cackled. He elbowed Kayne in the face, and pulled away, trying to get back to his feet. Kayne bit his fucking leg.
And it would be enough. It would be e-fucking-nough because he wasn’t attuned to this plan of existence. If he survived he would be severely weakened and then Bell would finish him off.
He dragged himself over Bell, pinning him down.
Funny thing when you’re completely equal, it all cancels out. Using what a human would refer to as magic or godly powers would be a waste of energy.
Punching him into a fucking pulp though? Very effective.
“First you steal my human, then you try to drop a bomb on him? Do you know how FUCKING long it took for me to find him? He’s special! But you? You’re a dime a dozen.”
Bell grunted, taking another blow to his nose.
Kayne grinned evilly as dark red blood started splattering on his face. “He’s irreplaceable. Just like me. Do you know why I’m going to win? Why ALL OF YOU HAVE DIED? Because I’m not the crawling chaos, or the haunter in the dark, I’m not the herald of Azathoth, I'm not Abel ripe for slaughter. I’m not YOU anymore, I’M FUCKING KAYNE!”
He looked up. John had retreated back inside his host. Arthur had dragged himself over, meeting his eyes. He pulled out—
He took the dagger and plunged it into Bell’s skull. Darkness shattered all around them.
He moaned in ecstasy, feeling it. This reality was HIS now, just like all the others. One more key on his piano.
He snapped his fingers and Arthur and John were whole again. Arthur gasped, but didn’t have time to revel in the lack of pain. Kayne had grabbed him in a princess carry.
“Wh–-Kayne!”
“About to go nuclear in here, precious. Time to go!”
And with a snap they were gone.
They were on the top of a majestic mountain, looking down. He couldn’t just miss it after all. Arthur was squirming in his arms, but he didn’t let him go.
Then he screamed at the sound of it.
The explosion was bigger than anything the world had ever seen. A path to the destruction of humanity. Part of him admired it, the voices inside him applauding for such a fine version of their original end goal.
He scoffed.
What was the Atomic Bomb compared to the Day of Wrath? He let Arthur down, but continued to hold him. Tears streamed down Arthur’s face as John described the devastation.
“H-h-how is that? Will that—that’s going to happen?”
Kayne kissed him.
Arthur stiffened, not expecting it.
John’s hand was already smacking his back.
He let go.
“Sorry,” he laughed. “There is absolutely nothing hotter than murdering myself and then getting to see such a beautiful view with you in my arms.”
“God,” Arthur said, aghast.
“Maybe he’s right. Maybe I am a romantic,” Kayne snickered. He ruffled Arthur’s hair and let the detective stumble a few steps back.
He sighed. Arthur framed by a mushroom cloud did wonderful things to him.
Still.
“Well, that was embarrassing,” he announced.
“What even was that?” Arthur asked, too overwhelmed to be scared of him right now.
Someone found his weakness, John said, subdued.
“Don't like to share, Blondie?” Kayne shot back. “We REALLY need to work on your jealousy.”
“What? Are you talking about me?” Arthur asked, flabbergasted. “Kayne needs us to get the black stone. I suppose we’re a weakness as far as being a tool not easily replaced.”
Kayne giggled, then broke into loud unbridled laughter. “Oh what the hell? I’ll let you have it.” He turned and grabbed Arthur’s hand. “Arthur Lester, I’ve done so much twisting and bending and breaking to make you dance with me.”
He pulled him close.
“I like you far more than just being the exact right tool I need, and if anyone tries to fucking take you from me again I’ll fucking slaughter them, so keep safe, kay?”
“W-w-what are you… what are you even—?”
There’ll be more! John said angrily. More will come after us because of you!
“Hm?”
Bell can’t be the only one of you to use the time to hide from you. There are other realities that you have yet to conquer and they will KNOW about him.
“Hm,” he hated when John was right. He had thought he caught them all, but no. One meant there would be more, and not all of them would sacrifice Arthur, some of them would get handsy.
Oh well, now he had threads to follow. “Well, you’re close to the end of this chapter. Get my stone and I’ll worry about copycats stealing Artie.” He pinched Arthur’s cheek. He was still stunned trying to parse what the fuck they were talking about.
You said you would release us!
“Hah? No, no I didn’t actually. I said one baby girl and two separate bodies. That doesn’t stop me from putting him in a golden cage at the end of it. Gold? Hm, that’s more your thing. Hm, I suppose you're rubbing off on me.”
John was getting cranky and Arthur was hyperventilating. Time to put the boys down for a nap.
“Alright, alright. There’s no reason to worry yourselves over it,” he beamed. “You’re not going to remember a single fucking thing from this shitshow!.”
Oh you son of a—
Kayne snapped. Arthur fell limp. Kayne caught him before he hit the ground. John’s aura wrapped around the human like a child with a teddy bear.
“Ugh,” he said to himself in disgust thinking how sweet they were. He kissed Arthur’s forehead tenderly and with a snap sent them back to where they came from.
It had made him angry, seeing Arthur tortured, beyond his own possessiveness. Azathoth’s cock was he really going to keep him? He’d never live this down.
He shook his head. Never mind for now. He had hunting to do. His boys were close, very close, but there was still time for something to fuck it up.
And he would make sure it wouldn’t be on his end.
He would make every goddamn version that was left understand. He was not the prey.
Bucktommy prompt: Tommy has an identical twin he doesn't get along with.
apple fritters and nose bleeds
Evan doesn’t even know about Anthony for the first six months of their relationship. And like, it’s not because Tommy is trying to keep anything from him; he just doesn’t talk to Tony. Not out of any personal ignorance, either. They just…stopped talking.
It wasn’t always that way. Obviously, being a little kid, the twin thing kept them pretty bonded. They leaned on each other a lot when they were hiding from their dad as elementary-aged kids. Both of them would do just about anything if it meant they could keep the attention off their mom and focused on one of them, especially as she got sicker with cancer. But at some point—Tommy’s not sure entirely when, but they hadn’t made it out of elementary school, and their mom had already passed—something changed.
He didn’t really notice at first, maybe because they were both actively trying to avoid their father and his drunken antics. But after a while, it started dawning on him how often he was getting in trouble for things that both he and Tony did. Granted, it had been that way in the past two—the both of them throwing themselves on the sword for the other if a moment called for it—except Tony wasn’t falling on the sword anymore. It felt like every time Tommy turned around, he was in trouble for something else, getting the wrap for both of them even if he had nothing to do with it.
As they got older, it got worse. Tony was the son their father always wanted: tall, muscular, straight. He enlisted in the marines before he’d even graduated. By comparison, Tommy wasn’t viewed the same way. Even though they both went through puberty at the same time, Tommy struggled in his teens. His weight fluctuated, he struggled to fit in, and he didn’t take part in the same sports his brother did. After Tony enlisted, all Tommy heard about was how great his twin brother was, how built he was, how much better of a son he was.
So he enlisted too, in the army. He started spending more time in the gym, and by the time they both got home from basic training the summer after they both turned 18, they were passing as identical twins again with no veritable way to tell them apart.
Still, time in the military affected them differently. Tony did his four years and got out. Tommy did his time and then signed up for pilot training, which kept him in longer. His brother settled down, got married, got a regular day job in corporate something. Whatever it was, their father raved about it the view times over the next few years that Tommy bothered to call home and mention where he was at. When he finally did get out of the military, Tony was still rarely around, and Tommy didn’t have any interest in seeking him out. He’d left California for a while, and never bothered to mention he was back. Which would’ve been fine, except, Evan.
They’re in their favorite cafe early one morning, trying to cram in breakfast before they fly out for a trip they’ve had planned for weeks. The place is crowded—it’s Saturday and apparently there’s some parade coming in the next hour and everybody has decided that their little cafe where they had their first successful date is the place to be. People are pressed up against one another, some arguing and others whining about needing space, as he and Evan try and get through to get out to their table with their drinks and the pastries Evan insisted on getting. Did they really need apple fritters? Tommy wasn’t sure.
But somewhere in the middle of it all, Evan gets turned around while trying to grab napkins while Tommy is a crowd of people away, watching him. He continues to watch, first in amusement, and then in horror, as Evan crosses halfway through the space, and then seems to turn off in a direction that is decidedly not Tommy, up to another man, leaning over into his ear and whispering something that, based on Evan’s face, is not going to go over well.
And then, the other man is turning on his heel, and a fist is flying into Evan’s face before he even has time to react.
Tommy rushes through the throng of people as they suddenly make a hole around where Evan’s at, and that’s when Tommy realizes, as he comes to perch next to Evan on the ground.
“What the fuck, Tommy,” Evan asks, wiping at his face and coming away with blood. He looks up at Tommy perched in front of him, and then up at the man in front of him, and then does a double-take, suddenly very confused until it dawns on him. “Y-you’re not Tommy.”
Tommy lets out an exasperated sigh as his eyes drift up the legs, torso, chest, and then finally meet the face he recognizes from the mirror.
“Anthony.”
“Is everything okay,” Katie calls from behind the register, pushing herself high to see over the counter. “Oh my god, Evan, do you need tissues?”
Tommy looks up at her. “That’d be great, Katie, thanks.”
Tommy shifts both of the coffees into one hand and slips a hand underneath Evan, pulling him up into a seated position before Evan’s able to amble himself back to his feet, just as Katie is coming around the counter with tissues while also trying to get the throngs of people refocused. She passes them to Evan with an apologetic look before glaring at Tony.
“Take these,” Tommy tells him, practically shoving the coffees into Evan’s hands in exchange for the tissue.
“But the apple fritters,” he complains as Tommy starts wiping at the blood on his face, only to realize there’s more still coming down. Great.
“Katie we need two more apple fritters,” he calls out loud enough for her to hear, still entirely focused on Evan.
“Coming up,” she calls back.
“Look, I didn’t even know you were here,” Tony comments, forcing Tommy to acknowledge his presence for the first time.
He glances over at his brother, anger still present on his own face.
“Why would you? You don’t call, you don’t reach out. You’re the one who left the state while I still live here, but you would assume that if someone comes up to you while in town that they’d be looking for you and not me,” Tommy growls at him.
“Two apple fritters for Buckley and Kinard,” Katie announces from the counter. Tommy turns on his heel towards the counter and grabs the fresh pastries—in a bag this time—and then drops a ten in the tip jar for her, mouthing a thank you. He looks back at Evan again, sees the blood still soaking into the tissues.
“We need to get this looked at,” he tells him. “Lucy’s around the corner for the parade.”
Evan groans. “But the coffee and pastries-..”
Tommy tilts his head at him in the we’re not arguing on this expression he’s known so well for, before he shoots one final glare at his brother.
. . .
Around the corner, some ten or so minutes later, the bleeding has finally stopped, and Lucy has managed to convince them that Tony didn’t break Evan’s nose, but he’s likely to have some serious bruising over the next few days.
Great. Tommy thinks. Just what they both want in all their vacation photos. Black eyes.
“Why didn’t you tell me you had a twin brother,” Evan asks, shoveling his apple fritter into his mouth after Lucy walks away. He’s more than clearly decided to move on from the violence inside the coffee house from just a few minutes before.
“The physical violence didn’t give it away,” Tommy replies sardonically.
“I mean aside from that,” Evan states. “Seems like that would be an important bit of information to share. Especially given what just took place.”
Tommy sighs, turning on his heel to face Evan in the middle of the sidewalk.
“Look, Anthony made a decision a long time ago to attach himself to my father and his ideals, and when I realized that neither of them were going to show up for me the way that they should, I had to disconnect myself from it all.”
Evan frowns. He swallows down his bite of the apple fritter.
“Doesn’t that hurt, though,” he asks. “I mean with the whole twin thing?”
The twin thing. There’s going to be a Wikipedia hole in the next few days about all of this, Tommy just knows it.
“I mean yes,” he admits honestly. “Of course it does. But if I stayed wrapped up in that, I’d never get on with my life.” He leans forward and kisses the bridge of Evan’s nose, wary of its tenderness as Evan flinches slightly under his lips. “Now can we please get out of here before the parade rolls through and we get stuck for three hours? We have a flight to catch.”
Evan smiles at him, leaning forward and nuzzling against Tommy’s nose even though his own is still sore.
“Yes.”
He lets Tommy pull him along back towards the truck, only glancing briefly over his shoulder when he sees the man that looks so much like his boyfriend step outside of the coffee shop they’d just come from and their eyes catch for half a second before people are in between them, blocking Evan’s sight further.
Something more, Evan thinks, as Tommy opens the passenger door of his truck for him to get in. He needs to know more. More about Anthony, more about the discourse, more about it all. Because he can’t imagine what it’s like for Tommy to deal with the twin thing, with a sibling who’s so out of sync with him. And the part of Evan that lives to fix things thinks he just found his new project.
(damn it now this is going to need more. see what you've done @hmg621 😂)
"Oh oh oh!! I love your fic about the Alpha pound and the collective!! So I'll throw in an aob prompt I've played in my head and see if it helps inspire you, it's pretty basic.
After finding Bucky and afraid of him being taken away to jail him, Steve decides to mate Bucky and whisk him away to Avengers Tower to protect him, the avengers want to help Cap but some are uneasy on his methods and also Bucky is now in a gilded cage scenario although is better than Hydra or jail"
"Steve, what did you do?" Tony asked him, staring in shock at the rain soaked assassin cowering behind Steve. His scent was terrified and his eyes kept flickering between the Avengers and the walls as if he was trying to find an escape route.
"I rescued him". Steve's answer was deflective; his eyes voided Tony's.
"No, what did you do?" Tony demanded to know. Because even through that rancid scent of distress, he recognized the smell beneath it.
"...I mated him" Steve admitted in a quiet voice. His right hand was holding onto Bucky's arm, not letting him step far. And now that he was Bucky's alpha, it would be far harder for him to just dart away and escape.
"You WHAT?!" Clint exclaimed in disbelief, throwing his hands out.
"Steve, that's not just any stray omega, that's the Winter Soldier. You do realize that, right?" Sam frowned with his arms crossed.
Steve threw him a look and scowled. "He's my friend. And now he's my mate, so you can't expect him to leave" he defended Bucky, drawing the muscular man closer. Since Bucky was curling in on himself, he looked smaller than he was, but everyone in this tower had seen him in action.
"Come on Cap, don't be an idiot. Hydra's gonna come looking for him, to say nothing about the government. Hell, he's probably wanted by every government on Earth right now!" Tony exclaimed - he was furious Steve had taken this decision without telling any of them. As a Captain, he was too used to just going his own way.
But at the mention of Hydra, Bucky suddenly whimpered and for the first time willingly drew closer to his new alpha. Ignoring the others, Steve hurried to turn and cup the back of his head, soothingly nuzzling over it. "Shh, it's okay. They can't reach you here with me, I'll protect you now" he whispered.
"Steve, they'll come eventually - "
"They can bloody well try" Steve growled, taking Bucky's hand and marching them both straight past the other Avengers. The conversation was over.
*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*
Bucky was shaking like a dog when Steve got him back up to his own floor and herded him into the bathrooms. The rain had soaked through all his clothes and he was dripping on the floor. Steve was rummaging around the cupboards, and when Bucky thought he wasn't looking, he observed the alpha carefully. The memories were blurry and faded, but they were still there - Bucky did know this man. He'd known him way before back when Steve had been small and they had both been omega. The serum had made Steve alpha, but obviously Zola's botched version hadn't done the same for Bucky. Instead, he was this monstrous version of an omega. The only part of his altered body that even revealed he was omega was the small cocklet between his bulging thighs. It had always stayed the same, and Hydra's soldiers had found that very amusing. Those memories stung like poison ivy in his head.
But now Bucky had a second marker of an omega. On his neck was the still sore bitemark that Steve had given him in his run-down apartment where he'd found Bucky. The assassin had been tensing up to bolt, prepared to flee rather than have to face this blurry figure of his past, but Steve had grabbed him. He'd grabbed him, wrestled him down, used electric stingers to knock out his metal arm, and then taken his neck in a Hold. Only then did Bucky calm down. His heart had still been racing in panic, but Steve had held him anyway, and just...looked at him.
"I'm taking you home, Bucky. I'll keep you safe" he'd promised. And Bucky wanted to believe him so bad it hurt.
Steve had given him the bite right there to claim him. Now when they were home, and Steve was stripping him naked of his wet clothes, Bucky knew he would finish his claim by mounting him.
"You'll have to take a bath so you won't catch a cold" Steve mumbled softly, tugging off his pants. Bucky just went along with it numbly - at least Steve wasn't going to beat him when he was naked. Right?
"I can't catch colds" he admitted back, because his alpha probably expected him to speak.
Steve met his eyes. "Right. But I still want you to get warm" he said with a gentle smile.
Bucky was scared all throughout the bath, just waiting for something bad to happen. For Steve to move the washcloth aside so he could put his fingers inside Bucky's ass, or pinch his cocklet, or pull his hair. He didn't do any of those things. He simply washed his new omega gently, until he was clean and warm and pink. The function in the metal arm was slowly coming back to him too. As soon as it did, Bucky might be able to overpower Steve and escape.
But to do so, he'd now have to push through the dominant hold Steve had over him as his alpha. Steve had been right - it would be a lot harder for Bucky to run away now.
And besides, what if he did? What if the government found him, or worse, Hydra?
Whatever they would do to him, Bucky knew it'd be a lot worse than having to spread his legs for Steve Rogers.
No, Bucky would stay. He would bite a pillow, keep still, and accept it if his alpha wanted to knot him. Even if he wanted to do it every day. Bucky would accept it, because he figured it was his best chance at protection. He'd acted the soldier before, now he'd act the bitch.
As he looked up at Steve, he felt a familiar emotion move through his chest, like seeing something glimmer at the bottom of the sea. He knew him. Bucky swallowed through the uncertainty, and Steve smiled like he was glad to have him there. Maybe...just maybe...he could find a way to enjoy what was coming tonight.
Character A has been through a lot. In the process, they lost more than they could ever imagine, including their faithful pet. Imagine the delight when they are surprised a with a potential new friend.
