#//and i had been chased down after i was unhooked

[jayschaconne]

ACHE | Yang Jungwon

summary:. After getting work out the way, all Jungwon needs is for the two of you to relieve stress.

warnings: (minors dni) smut, unprotected sex, swearing, not proofread

a/n: lately been losing my mind over leader won. writing this was a must.

…

Your back hit against the restroom wall, and you let yourself get lost in the way Jungwon’s tongue roamed your mouth, letting him take complete charge of you.

His shirt came off in seconds, as he unbuttoned your blouse as well, unhooking the clasp of your bra and throwing it over to the side as it slid off your breasts.

“Oh, baby I’ve missed you so much,” a whine left him as he kissed down your chest, hands sliding up your skirt. His lips latched onto your tits, sucking and peppering kisses while your hands bunched up in his hair at how much you missed his mouth around you.

“Missed you too,” you let out. You gasped after feeling his cold fingers start rubbing circles on your clit. You could feel his smirk growing on your skin at how you didn’t wear anything underneath.

“That’s my baby,” a whisper was let out in your ear.

His movements had been painfully slow, making you look at him with eyes that had always been too hard for him to turn down.

“Wonnie, baby,” you pleaded. “I need you.”

The way his name rolled off your tongue couldn’t have made him hold back any longer. You unzipped his pants, sliding them all the way down to his ankles.

Your skirt was bunched up around your waist, around which he had a strong hold, picking you up and slowly entering. Desperate, loud moans left the two of you at the much needed relief. Jungwon held your legs wide open, fucking you deep and slow until you got used to how he stretched you out.

It felt incredible. It was like experiencing sex with him for the first time again. He’d been so gentle, so patient. So wild.

His hand kept one of your legs apart with the support of the wall against your back, giving him more access. Thrust after hard thrust, you started to feel dizzy at the sudden pleasure.

Your head hit the wall repeatedly with how relentless he’d been, even in that small space of the restroom, Jungwon had managed to fuck you so good it made your legs shake.

Your voice was unstable from how his speed had been draining your energy, but he still made you crave more of it.

“More,” you screamed out. “You always fuck me so good.”

“Yeah? Does that feel good?” He held you up, letting your legs wrap around his torso. He positioned you so now you bounced up and down his dick, sweaty and exhausted.

The small restroom had been doing very little to keep both of you dry. Jungwon’s hair was damp from the heat, as was yours. Sweat formed on the sides of his face. His abs were drenched in it too, that glistening muscle just adding more to your desire. The room smelled of sex and his cologne that was starting to wear off.

He was hitting spots that overwhelmed you with pleasure, tears welling up in your eyes, mouth hung open at how good it felt.

Pants and moans filled the room, the sound of skin slapping getting louder as he fucked away the tension in you. He got more eager each passing second.

Your throat was dry due to screaming so much. You swallowed, “Jungwon, please don’t stop. I’m so close.”

At this, he quickened his pace, chasing the high you both had been deprived of for so long.

“Yes, I’m gonna come,” he remained focused on the feeling. His eyes shut as he felt his orgasm approach.

Jungwon held up a hand to cover your mouth. You came around him with a loud, stifled scream. He groaned at the feeling of finally getting to come inside you again. His cum dripped out of you as he pulled out.

“You think they heard us?” He asked out of breath, laughing.

You laughed with him, throwing your arms around his neck, “We weren’t so discreet about it, now were we?”

A smile broke out on his face as he kissed you slow and sweet. Diminishing every ache you’d felt from his absence months before.

[rootedinrevisions]

Cowboys & Angles

SUMMARY: After years of playful flirting and a deep-rooted friendship, you and Tyler Owens find yourselves crossing the line between friends and lovers when he returns home for the fall. What starts as a fun, teasing night at the local bar quickly turns into something more when Tyler finally takes his shot. But as feelings are laid bare, both of you must confront what this means for your relationship—because for Tyler, you've always been more than just a friend, and he’s ready to prove it if you let him.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: When I first decided to do Kinktober, I was planning on doing a bunch of drabbles (my goal is for them to be at or under 1k words). But kind of like with yesterday's, as I was writing this one it kind of just took off and I kept going and now here we are at over 5k words! So I think Kinktober is probably going to be a mix of both shorter drabbles and longer fics! I will also be mixing up characters/fandoms so Kinktober will have a mix of my Glen Powell characters as well as some WWE/Wrestling, and I may be introducing a few new characters I haven't written for yet too!

PROMPT: "I'm already dying to take you right now. Don't tempt me."

KINK: Cowboy Hat / Cowboy Hat Rule

WARNINGS: Teasing. 18+ SMUT. (P in V Sex.)

WORD COUNT: 5.6k

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The bar was quieter than usual for a Saturday night. The usual hum of conversation was replaced by a few scattered groups of locals enjoying their drinks in the dim, amber glow of the overhead lights. You leaned on the counter, wiping down a glass as the front door swung open with a faint creak. The familiar sound made your heart jump before you even saw who it was.

Tyler Owens.

He strode in with that easy confidence, his tall frame filling the doorway for a second before he glanced around the room, spotting you instantly. A slow grin spread across his face, and he tipped his cream-colored Stetson in your direction before making his way toward the bar. You hadn’t seen him in months, not since he’d been off chasing storms across the country, but it felt like no time had passed at all.

“Well, if it isn’t Tyler Owens, the Tornado Wrangler himself,” you teased as he reached the bar.

“Back in town for a little while. Thought I’d drop by and see what kind of trouble you’ve been getting into.” His voice was smooth, that southern drawl rolling off his tongue like honey, and you couldn’t help but smile.

Amber, the other bartender, had been subtly hinting that she could use the extra tips if you wanted to take the rest of the night off for the last half hour. The bar wasn’t too busy, so you figured now was as good a time as any to give her the extra tips and catch up with Tyler. Setting the glass down, you unhooked your apron.

“Amber, you’re up. I’m clocking out,” you called over your shoulder. She practically beamed at you in response, already moving to take over.

Sliding onto the stool next to Tyler, you felt a familiar warmth wash over you—not from the two drinks you had in front of you, but from the easy energy that always existed between the two of you. You’d known Tyler since high school, and while your friendship had always teetered on the edge of something more, nothing had ever come of it. Flirting was just part of your dynamic.

“So, you’re back home, huh? Storm season finally winding down?” you asked, taking a sip of your drink.

“Yeah, things are quietin’ down. I thought I’d stick around town for a bit. Y appreciate the peace and quiet without me stirring things up?” He teased, nudging your shoulder with his.

“Oh, sure. It’s been so peaceful without you around,” you replied with a playful eye roll, though the truth was you’d missed him more than you wanted to admit.

After another round of drinks, your inhibitions softened but far from impaired, you reached out and plucked the Stetson right off Tyler’s head. The hat had always been his signature look, and you couldn’t resist the urge to mess with him a little. You placed it on your own head, adjusting it with a smirk.

He raised an eyebrow, amusement dancing in his eyes. “You know there’s a rule about wearin’ a cowboy’s hat, don’t you?” His voice was low, but there was something underlying it now, a challenge.

You feigned innocence, leaning in slightly. “Oh? And what rule might that be?”

His eyes darkened ever so slightly, his gaze flicking to your lips for just a second before he leaned back in his chair, his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip. 

“Never mind,” he said, his voice huskier now, “you wouldn’t be interested.”

But you couldn’t resist pushing him just a little further. You leaned in closer, your voice dropping to a whisper only he could hear. “Oh, I know the rule, Tyler. I just wanted to see what you’d do about it.”

There it was—the shift. His expression hardened ever so slightly, but that teasing smirk was still there, hanging on the edge of something more. He didn’t say anything, just gave you that look, the one that always sent a spark straight through you.

Without breaking eye contact, you stood and made your way toward the corner of the bar where the old mechanical bull sat. It hadn’t been used much recently, but it was still in working order. Tyler’s eyes followed you, curiosity piqued. You glanced over your shoulder, the Stetson still perched on your head as you grinned mischievously.

“Start her up,” you called to one of the other employees, hopping onto the mechanical bull. You adjusted your seat, settling in comfortably as the machine started to hum to life.

Tyler's gaze was locked on you now, his arms folded across his chest, leaning back in his chair as if to say, Alright, let’s see what you’ve got.

The bull started slow, rocking gently, but you handled it like a pro. With each buck, your eyes stayed locked on Tyler’s, never wavering. You could see the way his jaw tightened slightly, how his hands gripped the beer bottle in his hands every so tightly as the intensity of the ride increased. His hat sat firmly on your head, and you couldn’t help but grin as you imagined the thoughts running through his mind.

Finally, the bull jerked sharply, and you were thrown off, landing on your feet in a flurry of laughter and adrenaline. Without missing a beat, you sauntered back over to where Tyler sat, your steps light and confident.

“So,” you teased, pulling his hat off your head and spinning it around on your finger, “what was that rule again?”

Tyler’s eyes were darker now, his gaze intense as he reached out, plucking the hat from your hand and setting it back on his own head. He stood up slowly, towering over you, his voice a low growl as he leaned in, lips close to your ear.

“I’m already dyin’ to take you right now,” he whispered, his breath hot against your skin. “Don’t tempt me.”

Your heart raced at his words, your playful bravado wavering for a split second as the tension between you thickened. But you couldn’t help yourself—you were never one to back down from a challenge. You met his gaze head-on, your lips curving into a daring smile.

“Well,” you whispered back, voice full of teasing confidence, “maybe I’m countin’ on that.”

The playful tension hung thick in the air, the space between you and Tyler charged with unspoken desire. His hat back on his head, Tyler’s eyes lingered on yours, darker than before, filled with something new—something inevitable. He stepped closer, and before you could say anything, his hand gently cupped the side of your face, his thumb brushing softly against your cheek.

“You’ve been teasing me all night,” he murmured, his voice low and rough.

Before you could respond, his lips were on yours, the kiss firm yet unhurried, like he’d been waiting for this moment for longer than either of you cared to admit. Your body responded instinctively, leaning into him, one hand gripping the edge of his flannel shirt as the heat of the kiss spread through you. The years of playful back-and-forth, of near-misses and flirtatious glances, melted away into this one moment of pure, electric connection.

Around you, the few regulars left in the bar had noticed. A couple of whistles and cheers rang out, a playful acknowledgment of what everyone in your small town had suspected for years. But their noise faded into the background as you ignored them completely, lost in the feel of Tyler’s lips on yours.

He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his thumb still gently stroking your cheek. “You good?” he asked, his voice a husky whisper, eyes searching yours for confirmation.

You nodded, breathless but smiling. “More than good.”

He gave you that signature grin, the one that always made your heart skip a beat. Without another word, he grabbed your hand, pulling you toward the door. The cool night air hit you as you stepped outside, the warmth of the bar replaced by the crisp breeze of the fall evening. Tyler didn’t let go of your hand as he led you to his truck, parked just out front, the red Dodge pickup outfitted in storm-chasing gear that you’d ridden in countless times before. But this time felt different.

Tyler opened the passenger door, turning to you with an extended hand to help you up. His touch was gentle, but there was a quiet intensity in the way he guided you into the seat. Once you were settled, he made his way around the front of the truck, climbing into the driver’s side and turning the engine over with a low rumble.

As he shifted the truck into gear, he glanced over at you, his lips curving into a smirk. “So, where to? Your place, or mine?”

You didn’t hesitate. “Yours.”

The smirk deepened into a grin. “Good choice.”

With that, he pulled out onto Main Street, the quiet stretch of road that ran through the heart of your small town. The familiar sights blurred past as the truck rumbled westward, toward the outskirts where Tyler’s place sat nestled among the trees. You leaned back in the seat, the thrill of the night coursing through you, heart racing as anticipation built with every passing mile.

The silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable—if anything, it only made the air more electric. Tyler’s hand rested on the gearshift, his knuckles brushing yours every so often, the simple contact sending a rush of warmth through you. You glanced over at him, taking in the sharp lines of his jaw, the way his focus stayed steady on the road, but there was an undeniable tension in his posture, like he was holding himself back.

The drive out to Tyler’s place was familiar but felt brand new in the charged atmosphere. Every turn in the road, every familiar landmark, passed by in a blur until finally, the gravel road leading up to his house came into view. The soft crunch of tires on gravel filled the quiet as he slowed the truck, pulling up beside the small, rustic house you’d been to more times than you could count.

But tonight, everything felt different. Tonight, it felt like everything had been leading to this moment.

Tyler parked the truck and turned off the engine, the silence of the night settling in around you as he turned to face you. That smirk was back, but now, there was a fire behind it, his gaze locked on yours as if daring you to make the next move.

Without a word, he opened his door and came around to your side, opening it for you and offering his hand once again. You took it, heart pounding as you stepped down from the truck, feeling the solid ground beneath your feet but still floating on the rush of what was about to happen.

As the door closed behind you, Tyler tugged you gently toward him, his arms wrapping around your waist as he pulled you close. His lips found yours again, this time slower, softer, like he was savoring the moment. You melted into him, your hands sliding up his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palms.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, both of you breathing hard in the stillness of the night. His voice was rough, barely more than a whisper, as he asked, “You ready?”

You nodded, your fingers tightening in the fabric of his flannel, your voice soft but steady. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

Tyler’s lips brushed against yours one last time before he pulled back, a mischievous glint sparking in his eyes. You barely had a moment to wonder what he was up to before his hands slid down to your waist, fingers gripping with a possessive but playful strength. 

With a quick, effortless motion, he hoisted you up and over his shoulder as if you weighed nothing. A squeal of surprise escaped your lips as you suddenly found yourself looking at the world upside down, your hands instinctively grabbing onto the back of his flannel to steady yourself. 

“Tyler!” you protested, half-laughing, half-scolding as you kicked your feet, trying to wriggle free. “You’re going to fall if you keep carrying me like this!”

His deep chuckle rumbled through his chest, vibrating against your body as he tightened his hold on you. “You think I can’t handle it?” he teased, his voice laced with humor as he started up the stairs toward his bedroom, his stride steady and sure. “I’ve carried heavier stuff than you during storm season, sweetheart. You’re light work.”

You squirmed again, the sensation of being tossed over his shoulder making you feel both thrilled and embarrassed, but the grin on your face was impossible to hide. “You’re gonna regret it if you drop me!” you warned, trying to sound serious but failing miserably as laughter bubbled up from your chest.

“I’m not dropping you,” he assured, his tone dripping with confidence. “But keep squirming, and I might just have to remind you who’s in charge here.” Tyler just laughed, one arm hooked securely around your legs while his free hand swatted playfully at your ass.

You rolled your eyes, even though he couldn’t see it. “Oh, please, Tyler. You think you’re so—”

Before you could finish the sentence, he gave your ass another playful smack, the sound echoing off the walls as he continued up the stairs. This one was a little harder than the first. 

“That’s for doubting me,” he quipped, his voice teasingly low, the heat between the two of you rising again despite the lighthearted moment.

You huffed, still trying to act indignant despite the butterflies swarming in your stomach. “Alright, alright! Just get me upstairs in one piece, cowboy.”

He chuckled again, finally reaching the top of the stairs and carrying you effortlessly down the hallway toward his bedroom. The door creaked as he pushed it open with his foot, the room bathed in the soft, dim light of a single lamp in the corner. 

Tyler walked straight to the bed, carefully lowering you down onto the mattress as if he were laying down something precious. Your heart was still racing, your skin flushed from the thrill of it all. You looked up at him, catching your breath as he stood there, grinning like the devil himself. 

“You okay?” he asked, his voice softer now, though the playful glint never left his eyes.

You smiled back, your heart still pounding, but now for a different reason entirely. “Yeah,” you said, your voice quieter, more breathless. “I’m okay.”

Tyler leaned down, brushing a strand of hair out of your face, his touch lingering against your skin for just a moment before he gave you a wink. “Good. Because I’m not done with you yet.”

The playful spark in Tyler’s eyes softened as he leaned over you, his hands resting gently on either side of your body, caging you in without making you feel trapped. His gaze locked onto yours, searching for any sign of hesitation, but all he found was anticipation. 

Slowly, he lowered his head, brushing his lips against yours in a kiss that started soft but deepened with every passing second, the heat between you building once again.

His hands, large and warm, began a slow exploration. He started at your hips, his fingers tracing the curves of your waist before moving up to your sides, sending a shiver through your body. His hands stopped when they reached the bottom of your shirt.

He pulled away from the kiss for just a moment, his eyes meeting yours, a silent question lingering there. You knew what he was asking without him needing to say it. You nodded, giving him your permission with a soft smile.

Tyler’s lips twitched up in a small, relieved grin as his fingers grabbed the hem of your shirt, tugging it up gently. You lifted your arms to help him, your heartbeat racing as the fabric slid off and hit the floor. The cool air of the room brushed against your exposed skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat coming from Tyler’s body as he leaned back down, his hands now roaming over your bare skin, igniting every nerve he touched.

Your hands moved up to his chest, and with trembling fingers, you started to undo the buttons of his shirt. As you worked your way down, Tyler’s mouth found the delicate skin of your neck, pressing soft, teasing kisses along your throat. His lips were warm and gentle, but when he bit down lightly, your breath hitched, a small, involuntary sound escaping your lips.

That sound—small but full of need—seemed to drive Tyler wild. His grip on you tightened slightly, his lips continuing their assault on your neck, alternating between gentle kisses and playful bites. Each time his teeth grazed your skin, you couldn’t stop the soft moans that spilled from your mouth, your body arching slightly into him. 

His name escaped your lips in a breathless whisper, barely audible but enough to make him pause for just a second, his breath hot against your skin as he groaned softly.

“You keep making sounds like that, and I’m not gonna be able to control myself,” he murmured against your neck, his voice rough with need. 

His hands slid down your sides again, fingertips skimming the waistband of your jeans, but he paused, giving you time to stop him if you wanted to. When you didn’t, he met your eyes again, waiting for your nod before his fingers deftly began undoing the button and zipper, tugging the denim down over your hips.

You took a deep breath, your fingers still fumbling with the last few buttons of his shirt, finally getting it open enough to slide it off his shoulders. The moment his shirt hit the floor, your hands were on him, running over the hard planes of his chest, feeling the heat of his skin beneath your palms. Tyler groaned again, his hands continuing their exploration, mapping every inch of your body as if it were the first time.

His mouth was on your neck again, trailing lower now, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your collarbone and further down. Every touch, every kiss, sent a wave of electricity through you, building a tension in your core that made it hard to think straight. The intimacy between you felt more intense now, the playful teasing giving way to something deeper, something that made your heart race and your breath come faster.

Tyler pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands resting on your hips again. “You okay?” he asked, his voice low, concern flickering in his eyes despite the heat between you.

You nodded, your voice caught in your throat for a second before you managed to breathe out a soft, “Yeah... more than okay.”

His lips curved into that familiar grin, but there was something different in it now—something softer. He leaned back down, capturing your lips in another kiss, this one filled with a tenderness that made your chest tighten. 

As his hands continued their journey over your skin, you could feel the shift between you, the playfulness melting away into something intimate, something more raw and real.

Tyler’s lips were on yours again, soft but hungry, as his hands roamed over your skin, pulling you closer, deepening the intensity between you. There was a new urgency in the way he touched you, the last of your clothes falling away, leaving nothing between you but heat and desire. When you finally pulled back to look at him, you noticed that familiar glint of mischief in his eyes, tempered by something softer, almost reverent, as he took in the sight of you.

“Your turn,” you whispered, your voice shaky but steady enough to tug at the waistband of his jeans.

Tyler grinned, the playfulness returning for just a moment as he sat back, undoing the button and zipper with quick, fluid motions. You watched as he kicked off his boots and jeans, your eyes following the movements of his hands as he finally tugged off his boxers, leaving him completely bare before you. You couldn’t help but admire the way he moved—every flex of muscle, every shift in his body.

You moved toward him, but Tyler caught you by the waist before you could get too far, flipping the two of you gently so that he was the one lying on the bed beneath you. His grin was still there, but it softened as his hands rested on your hips, pulling you down on top of him.

"Now that’s a view," he murmured, his voice low and rough with desire. He traced slow, deliberate circles on your skin as you straddled him, feeling the warmth of his body beneath you, your bare skin pressed against his.

For a moment, you just hovered there, the tension between you thick and electric. But then Tyler’s hand slid up your spine, his touch gentle yet firm, grounding you in the moment. 

“Before we go any further...” he murmured, his voice low but serious. His eyes met yours, searching. “We need to talk.”

You nodded, knowing exactly what he meant. The chemistry between you was undeniable, but that didn’t mean you were going to be reckless. 

"I’m clean," you said softly, feeling a little breathless as you admitted it. "I’ve been tested."

"Me too," Tyler replied, his voice steady but filled with the same tension that ran through your body. “But...” He gave you a sheepish grin as he reached out, fumbling in the drawer of his nightstand for a moment. His fingers finally closed around what he was looking for, and he pulled out a small foil packet, holding it up between the two of you with a little chuckle. “Just in case.”

You smiled at his awkward fumbling, appreciating the way he was handling this—respectful, but still maintaining that easy, familiar chemistry you had with him. 

“Good thinking,” you teased, watching as he ripped the packet open, his movements still a little clumsy in his eagerness. He rolled the condom onto himself, his eyes never leaving yours. His breath was heavy, and you could feel the tension building again, stronger now that you’d both cleared the air. 

You reached for his Stetson, which had somehow ended up on the bed, and with a grin, you placed it on your head, the brim casting a shadow over your eyes. Tyler’s gaze darkened as he watched you, his lips parting slightly as if he was about to say something, but no words came out.

Slowly, you positioned yourself over him, your legs straddling his hips. His hands came to rest on your thighs, his fingers squeezing lightly as you sank down onto him, a gasp escaping your lips at the sensation. The Stetson tilted slightly on your head, but you didn’t care. All that mattered at that moment was the connection between you and Tyler—the heat, the closeness, the way his hands gripped your hips like you were the only thing keeping him anchored to the earth.

Tyler let out a groan, his grip tightening as you adjusted to him, your body leaning forward slightly, pressing your chest against his as you both took a moment to breathe. His hand slid up your back again, this time tracing your spine with slow, deliberate strokes that sent shivers through your body. He tilted his head up, brushing his lips against yours in a kiss that was slow as if he had all the time in the world to savor this moment.

"God, you look so damn good," he whispered against your lips, his voice rough, filled with that raw desire you’d only ever seen glimpses of before.

You smiled, breathless, your forehead resting against his. “Wearing your hat and nothing else?” you teased, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Mmhm.” Tyler’s hands slid back down to your hips, guiding you as you began to move slowly against him. “You have no idea what you do to me...”

Tyler’s breath hitched as you settled against him, your bodies moving in sync, slow and deliberate, as if the two of you were savoring every second. His hands never left your skin, sliding from your hips to your waist, then down your thighs, like he couldn’t get enough of the feel of you. Each movement sent a shiver up your spine, your body reacting to the way his fingers traced small circles, grounding you in the moment.

The slow rhythm between you grew more intense with every passing second, but Tyler kept his focus on you, his eyes locked on yours, the smirk on his face softened by the emotion behind it. He shifted slightly beneath you, a groan slipping from his lips as he tightened his grip on your hips, guiding you in your movements but still giving you control.

Your breath came in shallow gasps as the sensation built, but you didn’t rush. There was something almost sweet about the way you moved together, like you both understood that this wasn’t just about the physical connection. It was something deeper, something that had been simmering for years between flirty glances, teasing remarks, and late-night conversations.

Tyler leaned up, capturing your lips in another kiss—this one softer, more tender, as if he was trying to tell you something without words. His fingers threaded through your hair, gently tugging, tilting your head back just enough to expose your neck. He pressed his lips to your throat, kissing his way up the sensitive skin there, and you couldn’t help the small sounds that escaped your lips, your body responding to every little touch.

You felt his grip on your hips tighten again, pulling you closer, your bodies moving together with more urgency now. The feeling between you was electric, your heart pounding in your chest as his kisses grew more desperate, more hungry. But even in the midst of it, Tyler’s touch remained careful, measured, as if he was constantly checking to make sure you were okay.

You didn’t mean for it to happen but your orgasm hit you faster than you expected. You felt your walls squeezing around him as your thighs started to shake. You let out several moans into Tylers mouth as he bucked his hips up to work you through it.

When you finally broke away from his mouth, breathless, Tyler leaned his forehead against yours, his hands resting on your lower back, holding you close. His eyes searched yours, and for a moment, there was nothing but silence between you—just the sound of your breathing and the steady beat of your hearts.

“You okay?” he murmured, his voice rough but filled with concern as he brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his thumb grazing your cheek.

You nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “More than okay,” you whispered back, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw.

He exhaled, a relieved grin spreading across his face. “Good.” His hands slipped down to your waist again, his grip firm but gentle. “Because I’m not sure I can handle you looking like that in my hat and not lose my damn mind.”

You chuckled softly, leaning down to kiss him again, feeling the way his body responded to the smallest touch. The teasing from earlier was still there, but it was mingled with something else now—a deep sense of care and affection that had always been beneath the surface.

As the tension built between you again, Tyler’s movements became more urgent, more deliberate, and his grip on you tightened in response. His groans were low and quiet, but the sound of them sent a surge of heat through your body, making you move faster, more eagerly, craving every reaction you could pull from him.

Tyler’s hands roamed your back, sliding up your spine and then down again, before settling on your hips once more, guiding you, helping you keep the rhythm even when it became harder to focus as your second orgasm crept closer. His mouth found your neck again, biting down gently in a way that made you gasp, your body arching into him as the sensation overwhelmed you.

Every touch, every kiss felt electric, like the two of you had been waiting for this moment for years. And as the intensity reached its peak, you couldn’t help but feel the emotion behind it all—the unspoken bond you shared, the connection that had always been there, simmering just beneath the surface of your friendship.

Finally, as the tension broke and the two of you found your release together, Tyler pulled you close, wrapping his arms around you as you collapsed against him. His body was warm and solid beneath you, his heartbeat strong and steady as you both came down from the high of the moment. He held you there, his hands still tracing gentle patterns on your skin, like he was memorizing the feel of you.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, the room filled with nothing but the sound of your breathing as you lay in the quiet intimacy of the aftermath. Tyler shifted slightly, his hand sliding up to brush through your hair again, his lips pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

“You okay?” he asked again, his voice soft and filled with that familiar concern.

You nodded against him, your body still tingling from the intensity of what had just happened. “Yeah... more than okay,” you murmured, echoing your earlier words.

Tyler chuckled quietly, his arms tightening around you as he pulled you closer. “Good,” he said, his voice warm and filled with affection. “That’s all I ever want... to take care of you.” His fingers trailed along your back in slow, soothing strokes as he held you there, the warmth of his body surrounding you like a cocoon of safety and comfort.

The warmth of Tyler’s body still enveloped you as you lay there, your head resting on his chest, his hand gently running through your hair. The room was quiet now, just the soft sounds of your breathing mixing with the faint creak of the old house settling around you. For a while, neither of you spoke, the weight of what had just happened hanging in the air. You could feel Tyler’s steady heartbeat beneath your cheek, and it grounded you, but there was something else—a nagging thought that you couldn’t quite shake.

You shifted slightly, lifting your head to look at him. “Tyler...” you began, your voice soft, but tinged with uncertainty.

He looked down at you, his brows furrowing just a little, concern immediately flashing in his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

You bit your lip, hesitating for a moment before speaking. “What... what does this mean for us?” you asked, the vulnerability in your voice surprising even you. “I mean, is this... was this just a one-time thing?”

Tyler’s expression softened instantly, and he reached up, cupping your cheek in his hand, his thumb gently brushing over your skin. 

“A one-time thing?” he repeated, his voice almost incredulous. “Are you kidding?”

You averted your gaze, feeling a little silly for even asking, but Tyler didn’t let you look away. He gently guided your chin back toward him, making sure your eyes met his.

“I’ve been in love with you since we were teenagers,” he said, his voice low but steady, like it was the most natural thing in the world to admit. “I just... I didn’t think I had a shot in hell with someone like you.”

Your heart skipped a beat, his words sinking in slowly. “Someone like me?” you echoed, a small laugh escaping your lips despite the serious turn of the conversation. “Tyler, you make it sound like I’m some kind of angel.”

He chuckled softly, his thumb still brushing along your cheek. “Well, that’s what you are to me,” he said with a grin. “An angel. I mean, come on... a guy like me? A cowboy who’s been out chasing storms and kicking up dust for most of his life?” His eyes sparkled with humor, but there was something deeper behind them—something genuine. “I didn’t think I deserved a shot with someone as good as you.”

You couldn’t help but smile, your heart swelling at his words. “Cowboys and angels...” you teased, the playfulness returning to your voice. “Seems like a pretty good combination to me.”

Tyler laughed, the sound warm and rich, and he pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you like he never wanted to let go. “Yeah,” he murmured, pressing his lips to your forehead. “Turns out, they go real well together.”

For a moment, you both lay there in the quiet, the weight of his confession settling over you. It felt like everything had shifted between you, but in the best possible way. The years of friendship, the playful flirting, the unspoken connection—it had all led to this, to a moment that felt as natural as it was surprising.

You smiled up at him, the worry that had been gnawing at you now completely gone. “So... we’re doing this?” you asked softly, your hand resting over his heart.

Tyler grinned, his eyes full of warmth as he leaned in, kissing you tenderly. “Yeah,” he whispered against your lips. “We’re doing this.”

And with that, the uncertainty melted away, replaced by the deep, undeniable certainty that this was where you were meant to be—wrapped up in the arms of the man who had loved you all along, even when you hadn’t realized it. The cowboy and his angel, right where they belonged.

[cosmicdahlias]

You’re Mine, Understand?

Ford Pines x Reader

MINORS DNI

Ford has been very inattentive to you, so when an attractive young man walks in you seize the opportunity to make him jealous.

tags: age gap, jealousy, possessiveness, mdom/fsub, marking, hickeys, biting, belt usage, countdown, orgasm denial, p in v, choking, creampie

i added a part about countdowns because i got an ask requesting it over a month ago and kinda forgot about it until recently. this one’s for you anon!

It felt like forever since your research and romantic partner, Ford, had touched you. As of late he always seemed too absorbed in his work to properly give you any sort of attention. All attempts by you to initiate intimacy were met with

“Not now, sweetheart, I cannot be distracted.”

You were so touch starved, you craved his affection. So when Ford and you were upstairs helping Stan with reorganizing the shack and a young man around your age walked in, you leapt at the opportunity to torture your inattentive partner.

The man immediately went out of his way to approach you and strike up a conversation, it was obvious he found you attractive.

“Hey there, so uhhh… you work here?” He asked, very clearly staring at your chest.

“Yeah, you could say that.” You smiled, giving your best doe eyes.

You stole a glance at Ford, who immediately sensed what you were up to, you watched his jaw clench. Ford was… a bit possessive, as one tends to be after being in an abusive relationship with a demonic triangle. You know, typical things.

As the conversation progressed you looked back at your partner every so often, throwing him a smug smile. He quietly seethed, refusing to give you the satisfaction of getting to him. The man told an incredibly flirtatious joke and you gave a playful laugh, putting your hand on his arm.

“You’re like actually so funny.” You giggled.

The man tucked a lock of hair behind your ear.

“I’m glad you think so.”

That set Ford off, he knew he was letting you win, but he’d be damned if he allowed another man touch you. He walked over, cutting the man off mid sentence.

“So do you wanna exchange num-“

“Y/n, come with me. Now.” Ford commanded through gritted teeth.

You gave a small smirk.

“Whoa, who’s this, your dad?” The man asked.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll be back in a little bit. Don’t go anywhere, handsome.” You purred.

Ford grabbed your wrist and led you down the stairs to the basement lab, slamming the door behind him. He turned to you.

“Just what in the hell was that?” He growled.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You smiled, crossing your arms over your chest.

“You do not want to go down this road with me.” Ford threatened, coming in close.

“Oh please, what’re you gonna-“

Ford seized your wrists and pinned you against the wall in one swift motion, biting down hard on your neck, eliciting a whimper. He sucked on the soft skin repeatedly, leaving hickeys in his wake.

“I’m going to mark you all over, any man who dares to even look in your direction will know you’re my property.” He said against your skin.

Ford pulled your top over your head, unhooking your bra and tossing it aside. He slipped your skirt and panties down your legs where they joined the rest of your clothes in a heap on the floor. Usually, Ford took his time and savored removing your clothes, but his anger made him cut straight to the chase.

Ford bent you over the lab bench, your nipples peaking against the cold metal. He unbuckled his belt, pulling it free from his pants. He raised it, bringing it down hard on your ass and you yelped in response. He gave you five more lashes before moving to the underside of your thighs, doing the same. Your legs shook and the wetness from your pussy dripped onto the floor.

He picked you up, sitting you on the lab bench to face him. He lowered himself between your thighs, biting down on them hard enough to leave bruises. He stood, looking you directly in the eyes and slipping his hand to your clit.

“I think you need to be reminded why I’m a better choice than any so-called man your age. No one will ever make you feel as good as I can.” He said.

For someone who had spent 30 years in other dimensions away from all humans and never even touched pussy before you came into his life, he had learned incredibly quickly since becoming intimate with you. He valued your feedback and direction until he mastered the delicate art of making you cum in record time with just his fingers.

“How does that feel?” He inquired.

“Mmmnn, s- so good.” You moaned.

“I know it does. You won’t get it like this from anyone else. I know you in ways no one ever will, or even could.”

He leaned down, sucking on the skin of your breasts, covering them in hickeys. You whimpered at the feeling of his fingers drawing circles against your clit. Between being worked up from his rough treatment on your body and his expertise with his fingers, you were already close.

“Are you going to cum?” He asked.

“Y- yes.” You said.

“Listen close, I’m going to count down from three, you are only allowed to cum when I reach zero. Have I made myself clear?”

You nodded.

“Good girl. Three.”

You panted, bucking against his hand.

“Two.”

You felt your orgasm creep in.

“One.”

You were just about to break when he removed his fingers, leaning in and whispering in your ear.

“You don’t get to cum.”

Your orgasm dissipated from the abandonment of his fingers.

“W- what? That’s not fair!” You protested.

“Not fair? Do you think flirting and giving bedroom eyes to some man you don’t even know is fair to me? Well, do you?”

“No.” You huffed, looking away.

“Don’t be like that, you should’ve known you weren’t going to be rewarded, not with the way you were acting.” He said, tilting your chin up. “Now bend over for me.”

You slipped off of the lab bench and followed Ford’s instructions. He unzipped his pants, pulling out his thick cock. He moved one of his hands to grip your shoulder and the other at your waist. You felt his tip press against your entrance for barely a second before he shoved his whole length inside you, causing you to cry out as you felt the sharp pain of your pussy struggling to accommodate his wide girth.

Normally Ford gave you time to adjust to him, he knew he was big, but after the stunt you pulled you would gain no such sympathy from him. He fucked you at a punishingly aggressive speed. He typically preferred slow and passionate lovemaking, except on rare occasions such as this where you managed piss him off enough, in which case he was ruthlessly hard and fast, as you deserved.

“Who do you belong to?” Ford asked.

“Y- you.” You whimpered softly.

He pulled out, reaching for his belt, you felt the sharp sting of leather against your ass.

“I… can’t… fucking… hear… you.” He said, each word emphasized with his belt being brought down hard on your ass.

“I’m only going to ask one more time, who do you belong to?” He commanded.

“You.” You said louder.

He forced himself back inside you down to the hilt, continuing his rough pace.

“That’s my girl.”

He wrapped a hand around your neck, you choked out a moan as he squeezed it tight.

Ford chuckled. “If I didn’t know any better I’d say you’re liking this far more than I’d expected. Are you?”

With Ford’s tight grip on your throat, all you could manage out was a weak “uh-huh”.

“You’re making my job so much harder here. What I’m doing to you shouldn’t be this enjoyable, this is supposed to be a punishment after all. I guess this is what happens when you fuck a masochist, no matter what I do, you’ll find it pleasurable.”

Ford released your throat and moved his hand back to your shoulder.

“I like when you h- hurt me.” You whimpered.

“So I’ve gathered.”

His breathing began to hitch, his brutal pace faltering for just a moment.

“I’m going to cum and you’re taking every single fucking drop inside of you. That’s nonnegotiable, do you hear me?” Ford ordered.

“Yes sir.”

“Such an obedient little harlot.”

He increased his speed, furiously pumping in and out you. He dug his nails into your skin, pulling you against him to take the full length of his cock as he came deep inside you. He didn’t stop his thrusts, fucking his cum back into you.

“God, I’ll never tire of your tight little pussy.” He panted.

He slowly eased up the movement of his hips, pressing kisses along your back as he pulled out. He turned you around to face him.

“So there’s just one thing I still don’t quite understand. Why on earth did you feel the need to seek out the attention of another man?” He said, still trying to catch his breath.

“Ford, you’ve been totally closed off lately. All you do is work, any time I’ve tried to even touch you, you tell me you’re too busy. I’ve just felt completely ignored and you have no idea how much that hurts.”

He cupped your cheek, tilting your head up to face him.

“Oh stardust, I’m so sorry that I haven’t been properly making time for you. I have no excuse and I promise I’ll try to put in more effort in the future.” He said, kissing you.

“You better mean that.”

“You have my word. I swear tonight after we finish up in the lab I will give you my full, undivided attention. Now, as much as I feel bad and would like to be nice, a punishment is still a punishment. So… you’re going to get dressed and go upstairs. You are to keep your panties off and let my cum drip out of you. You will continue your conversation with that young man so he can see how I’ve marked you and that you’re mine, and only mine. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

He kissed you passionately.

“Good girl.”

[talooneytoons]

My name is Jason Peter Todd, also known as Red Hood; vigilante and sometimes do-gooder, depending on the circumstances. I operate in the seediest city in the world: Gotham. Specifically I come to target the worst parts of Gotham like Crime Alley. Despite any arguments Batman could give, my methods have been keeping crime down around the area. That was why I was a bit surprised when Oracle hacked into my comms late one night with a message...

....

Red Hood stepped out onto the edge of the building, his eyes scanning the world below him, the world that felt more like a wild animal enclosure. He was watching the red light district of Gotham now, the sleazy and scummy of Gotham's citizens coming down to this part of Gotham for what one could expect..sex, drugs, to drink away their problems...anything, really. There wasn't much that wasn't for sale around this area.

Red Hood pressed his fingers to the communicator in his ear, the electrical static just a small click on his ear.

"So, what's this about?" he asked, taking a moment to scope out the building he was supposed to be heading into, aptly named the Red Light Bar. Customers were lined up to get inside the club, no doubt to see the "talent" there.

Not that Jason had any disdain for strippers. They were just girls getting by doing work that earned them a lot of money but often put them in dangerous situations. It was a tough life.

"You know how Roman Sionis has gone into hiding after his little run in with you? In my anonymous tip line I got a message stating a dancer at the Red Light Bar has information on his whereabouts but refused to send any information without meeting someone face to face. I've checked out the security footage and there are certain days when the cameras are conveniently turned off, but nothing solidifying a connection to Roman...yet." Oracle explained and Red Hood could hear the clacking of her keyboard through the comms, his jaw clenching slightly in agitation.

This felt like a trap or a wild goose chase. There was no reason for Roman to be at a strip club in downtown Gotham and he almost felt aggravated for being brought here for no reason.

"What makes you think some stripper is going to know about Black Mask?" He asked, not hiding that irritation. He could tell Oracle was biting back her retort when she replied.

"It's the only lead we have since he went underground. It's worth checking out and you're the one who knows the area as well as you do." She said and it sounded like fair reasoning. Red Hood sighed and then rolled his shoulders.

"Fine." He grumbled, taking a step off the edge of the building before catching himself and expertly maneuvering his way to the ground. Now, Jason was not a small man. He was 6'3 and well over 200lbs. When he was coming towards you, you knew. So as he stepped up to the bouncers at the door they gave him a wary look before he stopped in front of them, staring hard for a moment. The intimidation was plain as day, despite the guards being as big or bigger than Red Hood physically, but his reputation and penchant for violence proceeded him.

"...You're in my way." He stated, making his intentions clear. The men made no more efforts to block his way, simply letting him inside. He walked in and looked up at the flashing neon lights and the music permeated the air around him. Around the floor there were plenty of girls walking around half dressed, clacking around in their heels.

Red Hood never faulted a woman (or man, for that matter) for using their bodies to get by. Not everyone was fortunate to be born with a silver spoon in their mouths...or picked up by billionaires around the age of thirteen. Still, he needed a specific stripper so he turned on the comms again.

"Which one was the whistleblower?" He asked, stealing a beer off a table as he passed. He walked up to the bar and unhooked his muzzle style mask to get a drink.

"Her stage name is-" Oracle began but the sound of music was drowning her out. Red Hood sighed and tried to clear the volume but no matter how loud he had it, it wasn't letting her voice through. Agitated, he moved and went to get out his cellphone just to text her instead.

"Looks like we just came up on some good luck, gentlemen!" The DJ spoke into the microphone and the crowd response gave Red Hood a moment of pause. People were getting hype and he admitted the reaction had him wanting to see just what was so special about this dancer coming up. He looked up to see the stage was dim, a shapely silhouette hidden in the shadows that caught his attention.

"We seem to have found ourselves a "Pretty Penny"!"

The lights flashed onto the stage, illuminating the beauty leaning against the pole, long brown hair softly curled around a supple body wrapped in black, diamond studded leather. Red Hood paused, a frown on his face as he felt something clawing at the back of his mind upon seeing her face. His body had a visceral reaction, his heartbeat hardening with a growing feeling of dread at seeing this woman, though he couldn't place why...and maybe that aggravated him more.

He stood when the music began to play, the crowd going wild with excitement as she began to move and twist her body to the rhythm, money already being tossed on the stage at her feet. The sight made his blood boil and he realized his fists were clenched tightly at his sides. The woman...he's never seen her before...but there was something vaguely familiar about her face. Wide, bright blue eyes and big, poofy lips though painted, still stirred something in his gut. Which was ridiculous. He didn't normally pay attention to crap like that.

He looked down at his phone and saw the message from Barbara who had sent him the name of this informant.

"Pretty Penny" aka Penelope Dates.

He looked up, whispers echoing in his mind, haunting laughter and playful comments. He took a step closer to the stage, watching this woman get down on her knees, back curving downwards in a tantalizing arch as she smiled at the men in front of her, holding up their money as if they were bartering chips to see more of her flesh and that made him...furious.

BANG BANG

Two shots rang out, hitting the ceiling and putting everything on halt the second it happened. The music cut out, leaving behind the soft chatter that barely filled the room. Red Hood, remaining ever composed, put his gun back in the holster and walked over to the stage, looking down at this little woman. Curvy...but too skinny. He sneered and reached down, grabbing her arm and hauling her to her feet.

"We have business to discuss and I don't have all night." He said simply, his voice barely keeping back the rage he was feeling. The woman...Penelope...stood and walked with him from the stage and into a private back room. She could hear the music begin again, the usual live and let live mentality rearing it's ugly head in the bar.

Red Hood studied her for a moment, looking over her features as if considering a puzzle. His eyes narrowed with suspicion, his jaw clenched hard.

Penelope fidgeted, not having thought that Oracle would send the Red Hood to the bar. His infamous reputation was both a blessing and a curse around these parts. While he tended to be incredibly helpful to the people of downtown Gotham, he was also a terrifying and deadly force.

Red Hood grit his teeth. "Well?!" He snapped and she jumped, immediately looking down. It only managed to give him a feeling of guilt in his chest that he pushed aside, letting his anger win out.

"Uhm...you're here about the information on Roman Sionis, right? My email to Oracle got through?" She looked up at the man who stood a little over a head taller than her. Red Hood gave a curt nod, still waiting on her information and she nodded.

"I sent the email because Roman Sionis has been coming to this bar." She stated and that gave Red Hood some interest.

"Why would he come here? It's not exactly fancy." Red Hood asked, crossing his arms and Penelope looked down, an expression of shame crossing her face that didn't go unnoticed by the vigilante. It was then that he took a moment to assess her. Makeup covering bruises on her arms and wrists, signs of drug use on her arms that didn't look too carefully done. Someone was being forceful with her.

"...He comes here because of you." He stated, softening only slightly as she nodded in return.

"He comes to see me dance. The least has ever been once a month...sometimes more." She said softly, frowning with a hint of sadness. Red Hood hummed, his thoughts racing. What would Black Mask want with a woman like this? Surely it wasn't just...physical? The very idea made the anger flare in his limbs, tightening his muscles.

"And what? He just watches you dance? Hardly an issue if he pays." He said, watching her reaction which was one of surprise and annoyance. She scoffed and crossed her arms, a sort of heat replacing her nervous demeanor before that made him smirk with amusement.

"No, he doesn't just watch me dance." She muttered, venom on her tongue. "He tries to make me do drugs, he threatens my friends if I try to get away from him, he...he...you wanted to find him, didn't you?" She asked, her voice rising with each word as she spoke out of anger and frustration. Red Hood held up his hands in mock surrender.

"Woah, slow down. I do want to catch that asshole." He said and then thought for a moment as he studied her, his eyes scanning her familiar features again, those haunting itches in the back of his mind whispering to him.

"...Does he hurt you?" He asked, moving his hand to her arm where the traces of makeup were still apparent. She moved to touch the spot he did and frowned, looking down.

"He has a short temper and he doesn't like it when I tell him no." She admitted, that shame appearing on her face again. She winced when Red Hood touched a bruise since it was the freshest one she had, the color a dark purple around her wrist. It made him sick to think of Roman Sionis manhandling anyone, let alone this woman as thin as she was.

"He makes you take drugs?" Red Hood continued, moving a thumb over the track marks on her arm, some new, some very old. She pulled away but found he had a strong grip on her. She sighed and nodded once again.

"Yes, he's been bringing some along when he comes to visit me. Sometimes I can steer the conversation away, distract him, but..." She shook her head and frowned and Red Hood could see the frustration in the way she spoke, how hard this must be for her to navigate. Red Hood could tell these were the classic maneuvers of a narcissist to isolate and get her depended on him.

"Yeah, if you need your fix you can't run away." He said quietly, pondering just how hard he was going to curb stomp this mother fu-

"I need help." She broke across his thoughts and he looked up at her, watching her lower lip trembled. He schooled his reaction, not wanting to give away how that made him feel bad to see.

"He already broke Kevin's legs when he tried to ban him. This bar is usually a common ground for gangs. No one really fights here. But now..." She sniffed and wiped her eye, sighing as she tried to keep herself together.

"Now it's a shit show...and I was trying to leave." She laughed, pinching her nose for a moment before he nodded and moved his hand to awkwardly put it on her shoulder, hovering it above her skin before he pulled away.

"I'll make sure he doesn't bother you. I promise." Jason looked at her, not normally one to make such a promise...there were too many variables, too many things that could go wrong but he knew one thing and that was that he was going to keep her away from Black Mask.

He stood there awkwardly for a second and she seemed to sense that he was trying to figure out how to escape from the moment so she cleared her throat.

"I should...get back to work." She said softly, "Let me know if I can help you. Roman usually comes once a month, at the least." She looked up at him, taking a moment to get a good look at the vigilante since it might be the last time she saw him. It was no secret he was known as the "big one" of the vigilantes around Gotham and she was definitely aware of how attractive he was. She tried not to dwell, though and left the room, leaving him be to figure out what to do about Roman Sionis.

____

As Jason met back with Barbara at the clock tower she turned to face him, nodding in acknowledgment to his presence before he swung over and took a seat on the sofa, laying back and kicking his boots up.

"Don't get mud on my furniture." Barbara grumbled and Jason only responded with the usual grunt. She tapped away for a second before she began to talk again.

"How was meeting with the dancer? Did she give you any information?" She asked. Jason nodded, his mind drifting back to "Pretty Penny".

"Yeah, she says Roman is there because of her. He apparently decided he likes her, wants her and is threatening her and her friends if she doesn't take drugs and dance for him." He frowned, moving to bite his fingernails as he thought about what that woman must be going through when Roman was around. He was a volatile, disgusting freak...and she was just trying to get by.

"So this is a classic hostage situation of sorts." Barbara sighed and nodded. "I've been doing some looking and the CCTV footage across the street where the liquor store is catches a glimpse of a black sedan. I ran the license plate and it is definitely Roman's personal car. Even in hiding he refuses to be inconspicuous." She rolled her eyes and then sighed.

"As for our dancer friend, I've done a background check on her, she's been in and out of juvie her whole childhood." Jason perked a bit, interested at the thought of the little dancer being a juvenile deliquent.

"Really?" He almost seemed to chuckle and Barbara nodded.

"Get this...for stealing car tires, money and conning." She chuckled and showed Jason the screen. He sat up a bit and looked over to see her juvie mugshot. A little, skinny child with tired blue eyes and lips too big for her face holding up a sign that read "Penelope Margaret Dates". The image of the girl in the photo gave him pause. She looked dirty, tired and sick. She reminded him of himself at that age, struggling to get by, barely making it each day.

"...Where was she? Like around Gotham?" He asked, getting up to walk closer. Barbara hummed and skimmed the files, her eyes moving over each word quickly.

"Says here she lived around the Park Row area with her mother, Priscilla Dates who was arrested once for possession of narcotics. She was bailed by her boyfriend." She muttered, her brow pinching in annoyance. When she went back to Park Row, she looked at Jason.

"That's where you grew up, right? You ever see her around?" She asked. Jason paused, thinking back. The memories were hazy after a long stretch of time anyways, that wasn't to account for trauma and all the other shit he's done in his life. Besides, he didn't like to think about back then, before Bruce.

"I don't think so." He said thoughtfully, taking another good look at the mugshot of Penelope. The freckles across her cheeks, the four beauty marks, two under the left eye, two on the right side of the nose...they screamed familiar...but he was sure he'd never seen her around.

"Maybe we fought over territory once?" He said, shaking his head as it felt wrong to say but he just couldn't place her.

Barbara hummed and then went back to the screen to click the blueprints for the Red Light Bar.

"So what's your plan for getting Roman?" She asked, deciding to focus on the task at hand. Jason shifted and nodded, moving to point.

"I'll stalk the place out for a month. Penelope says he comes once a month at minimum so I'll make it part of my patrol. If Roman shows up he'll want it to take a while, to get his money's worth." He felt the twitch in his upper lip before he ignored it and stayed focused.

"Okay. You think you can handle Roman alone?" Barbara asked and Jason was almost insulted before he realized she was asking if he would be able to bring Roman in and not send him six feet under. He scoffed, feeling a flare of annoyance before he sucked on his cheek, trying not to be short with Barbara. All things considered, he had a bit of a soft spot for her.

"Yes. I can handle bringing in Roman Sionis." He said grumpily, trying not to feel like a child scolded. Barbara didn't push it, nodding as she went back to the screen.

"I'll keep some of the others on standby so if you need back up I can send them in-"

"No." Jason said quickly, feeling a small ounce of something unfamiliar. He wanted to do this himself, as odd as it was. Something was telling him that he needed to handle this alone.

"I can handle Roman. He's comfortable at the bar, thinks no one is coming for him so I can just take out his body guards and get to him easy. In and out, no issues." He looked at the blueprints for the bar and the map of Gotham, already thinking about where to set up a few spots to see when and if Roman decided to come around.

For the next few nights Jason was stalking the area, swinging by and keeping to the rooftops to watch the traffic coming in and out of the bar. No black sedan, no Roman...not yet. He often came back around when it was closing time. 2:30 am. He saw Penelope walk out of the bar with her friends and then make her way towards the bus stop. He was half tempted to follow her, to see where she would be heading off to. Home, a second job... boyfriend's house??

But he was too busy. He had more important things to do than follow some woman around. Well, actually...now that he was thinking about it, Roman could be waiting for her at any other spot. So it would be helping her in the long run to make sure she made it to her next destination safely, at the very least. For her safety, of course. With that in mind, he thought about the bus she was on and where the stops were a long the way.

Cutting across rooftops saved quite a bit of time so he found the bus with no problem. Sure enough, she was there, looking out the window with her headphones on. She rode the bus for a few stops, getting out near the hospital. She had changed her clothes and she was in scrubs so he assumed she was heading in for another job. Poor thing looked dead tired and he was curious about how she was keeping up with this running around.

He saw her pause at the doors to the hospital, down a bottle of water, two bottles of five hour energy and then tie her hair back in a quick and efficient braid. Her fingers working and the way her nose scrunched in concentration had him smirking, the scene causing a stir in his chest. When he realized this he frowned and sighed, aggravated with himself for the way he felt. Nothing was special about this girl yet something was fascinating him with the scrunch of her nose, the furrow of her brow and then way she smiled at people as they passed by.

He watched her go inside the building, humming softly as his fingers drummed over his knees. He knew this feeling but he had no reason to feel it. He didn't know this woman. His first time seeing her was at the bar. Yet the feeling persisted anyhow...

Somehow...he knew her.

_________

Please be gentle with me. I haven't written a fanfiction in YEARS.

Part 1

Part 2 https://www.tumblr.com/talooneytoons/784838662660702208/the-underground-subway-system-was-rickety-the?source=share

[selkiechild4998]

✧°˖────———- ・・・・・ . ☽ ‧₊˚ ···╮

Mornings Together Again

╰┈ ‧₊˚ ☾. ⋅ ・・・・———-────°˖✧

Whoo! Day Two of Mushy May! I got a bit carried away with this but I just love Terzo/Omega. This prompt is Morning Routines!

TW- None

Genre- Fluff

Wordcount- 1,446 Words

AO3 Link- Here!

⭑･ﾟﾟ･*:༅｡.｡༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　⛧⃝　✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑

Birds were singing outside the windows of a room that had not been occupied for nearly seven years. A room that finally saw the return of its residences.

Omega didn't want to rise from bed. Purple silk sheets kept him in place, even if it was uncomfortable to sleep on his back. He would gladly take the pins and needles in his wings if it meant the man sleeping on his chest could have a few extra minutes of sleep.

He doesn't know how Copia did it. It wasn't even clear if Copia did this. He has seen resurrections before, but never to this extent. Those brought back from the dead were temporary, experiencing death again a few minutes after breath returned to their lungs. Yet, here he was, lying in bed, holding his once-lost lover.

He looked like Terzo and smelled like him, too. Omega could never forget that rose scent that always clung to the Emeritus. But at the same time, he didn't look like him. A total of four curved horns grew from his hairline, curving back like a crown. His cheeks were permanently marked with his Papa Paint, the black and white markings etched into his skin, but the two most dramatic changes to his appearance are the new limbs. A pair of bat-like wings lay limp against Terzo's back, the limbs half covered in blackened feathers, and a spaded tail lazily draped across Omega's legs.

It was his Terzo, but not at the same time. Despite the drastic changes, Omega knew this was his mate, and he would never fail him again.

With the new changes to his body, came new challenges. Gentle claws ran across Terzo's bare back, swirls of quintessence seeping into his back. It brought a soothing warmth to Terzo's constantly sore shoulders, easing the aches and pains.

"Terzo," Omega softly whispered, his other hand brushing Terzo's hair from his face, "Love, we have to get up."

"Mmh…five minutes," Terzo's voice mumbled, pressing his cheek more into Omega's chest.

Omega couldn't help the smile that appeared on his face. In the past, he would be slightly annoyed by his partner's stubbornness to remain in bed, but now, he adored it. But that didn't change the fact that they still needed to get out of bed.

"Come on," Omega hummed, wrapping his arms around Terzo as he sat up.

"Nooo," Terzo whined, his arms looping lazily around his ghoul's shoulders, but his whines were silenced by the sweet kiss pressed to his lips.

He hummed softly, a clawed hand gently gliding through Omega's silver hair, savoring the kiss until Omega pulled away. He tried chasing after his lips, but Omega pressed a finger to his lips, pausing his advances as his green and white eyes fluttered open at last.

"You'll get more kisses once we're out of bed," Omega promised, trilling when he saw the pout on his lover's face.

"You're so cruel," Terzo whined before giggling when Omega pressed another kiss to his cheek. His laughter then turned to delighted squeals when Omega snaked an arm under his legs, lifting him bridal style as he got out of bed.

"Omega! Put me down!" He laughed, holding onto Omega with a bright smile on his face.

"Then you'll have to let go, Love," Omega chortled, hardly flinching at the sharp claws pricking the skin on his back and shoulders.

Carefully, Terzo unhooked his claws, and Omega set him down on his feet. The wings on his back twitched, clumsily unfolding before refolding as he found his balance.

"Feeling alright?" Omega asked, cupping Terzo's cheek, "No soreness?"

"I'm alright, Amour," Terzo reassured, "Nothing I can't handle."

"Are you sure?"

"Si, I'm sure. Now, where is that outfit you grabbed for me?" Terzo tilted his head to the side.

Omega chuckled softly, "Only you would be excited to wear a ghoul uniform," He lightly teased before stepping away, grabbing a box he had stolen the night before.

"Well, I get to match you for once," Terzo smiled as he watched his ghoul grab the uniform.

"Sorta match," Omega corrected, "Meliora uniforms aren't made anymore."

"What?"

"It's been a while since your era, Love," Omega gently reminded before handing the uniform to him, "But I do think you'll like the new uniforms."

Terzo was skeptical, looking at the uniform he held. "I don't have much of a choice. Do I?" The sympathetic look that crossed Omega's face drew a soft chuckle from him, "I thought as much."

Returning to his old vanity, he set the outfit on the bench before removing his clothes and kicking his oversized sweatpants off. His wings twitched against his back, his tail whipping back and forth in an attempt to keep his balance.

Omega watched with interest as Terzo grabbed the first part of the uniform. "Is this a bodysuit?" he asked, looking at Omega over his shoulder. The question snapped Omega out of his thoughts, his cheeks turning a soft shade of red as he nodded, "Yeah, something about it being heat regulating."

"Huh," Terzo mused, looking at the skeletal bodysuit before trying to put it on. The legs were the easiest part. Terzo thought it would be easy to thread his tail through the hole in the back but didn't expect it would be so difficult to control the limb.

His gaze snapped over at Omega, who had let a soft giggle escape him, a clawed hand covering his mouth to hide his smile.

"Omegaaa," Terzo whined, Omega biting the inside of his cheek to keep himself from laughing as he made his way over.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," He chortled. Terzo turned to where his back faced him, pouting as he watched Omega in the vanity mirror. He watched as Omega gently grasped his tail, the limb twitching as he tugged the stretchy fabric of the bodysuit. He guided the spade of the tail through the hole, chuckling when he let go and watched the limb give a wag.

"Happy?" Omega lightly teased, looking at his lover's reflection as he pulled the body suit further up his chest.

"Very," Terzo smiled, his cheeks tinted with a soft dusting of red as Omega guided his wings to spread out. He felt Omega manipulate the back of the bodysuit, adjusting the slits for his wings around his limbs, the clasps clicking in place right below the delicate webbing.

"There," Omega smiled as he smoothed the fabric out, watching as Terzo checked himself out in the mirror.

"Hmm… it's…not that bad," Terzo mused, smiling as he looked at how the fabric hugged his form. He then noticed how Omega was staring at him, giggling at how his ghoul's eyes were dilated. "No tearing this off, Amour," He teased, snickering at how Omega shook his head to clear his thoughts.

"But you look so irresistible," Omega cooed, watching Terzo innocently bend over to grab the tailcoat of the uniform.

"And you tell me to control myself," Terzo giggled as he clumsily tugged the tailcoat on, struggling with his wings for a moment before Omega helped him once again.

Omega chuckled before looking at the last pieces of the uniform. "I was only able to grab a veil," He explained as he grabbed the silver mask and black veil.

Terzo hummed as he bowed his head, letting Omega place the veil on his head, tucking his horns and hair under the fabric.

Before Omega could then place the mask in place, Terzo put a hand up to stop him, "Ah! I remember someone promising me a kiss," He reminded.

Omega chuckled, placing the mask in Terzo's hands, "Of course, how could I forget?" He purred, leaning down to his lover's level.

Terzo happily pressed his lips against Omega's, humming as his arms looped around his shoulders again. His tail curled when he felt Omega snake his arms around his waist, pulling him flush against his chest. It was like the two never spent a day apart.

When the two parted, they pressed their foreheads together, gazing at each other as if nothing else mattered.

"Stay by my side today?" Terzo quietly asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Always," Omega promised, pressing his lips to Terzo's forehead.

Satisfied with the answer, Terzo pressed one more kiss to Omega's cheek, smiling up at him before putting the silver mask on.

Omega then placed his own mask on, unfolding a wing to tuck Terzo close to his side, holding onto his hand as he guided the way out of the bedroom, locking the door behind him. Leaving the room without anyone taking notice that they had ever been inside.

[short-honey-badger]

Peppermint Tea 16- Lavender 1

Alright, guys. I really hope you enjoy how I've gone about introducing Shanks to the reader. I'm not looking to complicate anything. I just want to have fun, and my two handsome boys deserve it.

Pairings. Reader x Shanks, Reader x Dracule Mihawk

Warnings! None. Shanks is flirty. Mihawk is only mentioned for now.

Masterlist

Shanks doesn’t expect to see an island this far out of the way of everything. It’s unnervingly close to the calm belt, and the Yonko probably would have never found it if he and his crew hadn’t been on a three-day bender after a successful raid on the last island. Maybe it was a little irresponsible of him and his crew, but sometimes he just liked to see where the Grand Line would take them. This tiny island was new, so that obviously meant that he and his crew should check it out. 

Lucky Roux drops the anchor, and Shanks flashes to shore with his first and second mates. The island is on the smaller side, though a small mountain range rises in the west. The jungle is thick, and Shanks can hear all manner of wildlife within. The sands of the long beach they’ve landed on are beautiful and inviting, prompting a big grin to stretch over the redhead's face, “Get the booze, Benn. I think this will be the perfect place.” 

The older man scoffs at his captain, but he has already turned around to begin shouting orders to the men. Shanks and Yasopp step further into the island, and that’s when the Yonko spots a small footpath that leads into the jungle. He nods his head to the path, and Yasopp unhooks his pistoles from his belt. 

The two men follow the footpath for a while. It winds through the thick foliage until it empties out into a clearing. The sight isn’t something either man is expecting.

A cottage sits innocently in the middle of the clearing. Several sea glass wind chimes hang from the front stoop, and the tinkling melody is pleasant on his ears. Three chickens are clucking around, and even a moody-looking goat glares at them from its pen. A massive garden sits on the left side of the building, and Shanks can see smoke rising from the chimney. Yasopp gives his captain a look, only to jerk back around when they hear the door of the cottage swing open. 

Shanks can hear music playing loudly from inside, a slow, bluesy tune that has his browns rising. No wonder whoever lived here had not heard the commotion he and his men made. A massive furry, grey mutt comes running out of the house, going straight after the chickens and sending the hens flying into the air. The rooster crows and chases after the dog, sending the mutt careening backward to run the other way. Last but not least, Shanks watches a young woman step out of the house. 

His heart speeds up when he sees her. She is stunning, the sunlight bouncing off her hair and making her glow in the morning light. She is dressed in tight leggings and a loose but thick-looking sweater poncho, and Shanks wonders why the young woman would want to dress that way in such warm weather. He dismisses the thought and starts walking forward, a grin on his face as he opens his mouth to shout a greeting. 

“Hello! We didn’t know that this island had already belonged to someone. We saw the foot trails at the beach and wanted to investigate.”

Shanks watches as you freeze in place, and his eyes widen just a tad when he sees snow flurries scatter around you. Huh, a devil fruit user all the way out here. He plasters an easy smile on his face and saunters forward only to stop when he catches the glare on the young woman’s face. He raised his hand in the air to show that he meant no harm.  

“We didn’t mean to frighten you! I just wanted to see if it would be okay if my crew and I could crash here for a little while. Can I come closer to introduce myself and my friend here?”

The shaggy mutt seems to answer for you as he bounds forward and slams into Shanks. He grunts and keeps his footing, bending down to pet the dog, “You sure got a friendly mutt!” 

You grimace as you watch your fool of a dog run right up to the red-haired stranger. You stomp forward, annoyed at having your day ruined by some unknown captain and his crew, but at least he was being friendly. You examine the man when you get close enough, taking in his beach bum outfit and shaggy red hair. His face is scruffy with unruly facial hair, and he has three scars over his left eye. When the wind blows, his cloak opens enough that you get a peek at the empty space on his left side. The way he held himself reminded you interestingly enough of Mihawk. Maybe that’s why you decided to humor the pirate. 

“His name is Hank. How um. How long would you and your crew want to stay here?” You ask him as you come to a stop a safe distance away. The last people to come to your island had been the pirates that Mihawk had taken care of, so it unnerved you to have someone else show up. 

Shanks shrugs, “For as long as you tolerate us,” he says with a handsome grin. You fight down the way your cheeks heat up when he directs that look right at you. He stands and offers you his hand, “I’m Shanks, and that’s my second mate, Yasopp.” 

You reach to shake his hand, and a feeling of Deja vu settles over you when he lifts your hand to place a kiss on your knuckles. Shanks winks at you, lips curling in a teasing smirk when you jerk your hand away from him. Quietly, you offer your name and give a small smile to Yasopp.

Shanks repeats your name slowly, tasting each syllable as he watches you step away. Your goat has escaped its pen and now stands at your side, beady eyes seeming to stare into his soul. You drop your hand on top of its head and scratch at where the horns grow out of its head, “Oh, this is Neal. He isn’t very fond of men, so you may want to steer clear of him.” 

“I’ll take your word for it,” Shanks snickers and waves Yasopp away, “Go on back to the ship. Tell the others that we are guests here.” 

The dark-skinned man grinned and gave a quick salute and a goodbye to you before he loped off back through the jungle.

Now alone, Shanks shifts his weight and gives you an assessing look, “So. What’s a beautiful girl like you doing all alone on an island so close to the Calm Belt?” 

You lick your lips, filing the new bit of information away for later. Dracule had yet to tell you where your island was located. You had stopped asking a long time ago for maps and topography graphs, especially after Mihawk had told you about the more dangerous places and players inside the Grand Line. You were happy on your island, but that didn’t mean that you didn’t want to know where you were. 

But now that you thought about it, you were 80% sure that the man in front of you was one of the few people that Dracule had warned you about. Red Haired Shanks, Captain of the Red Force, and one of the four Emporers of the Sea. 

“I live here, have my whole life,” you tell him and settle for being vague. If Dracule told you to be wary, then be wary you would be.

Shanks makes a huh sound in the back of his throat, “Really? Seems pretty lonely out here,” He comments, and you shrug as an answer, “Will you show me around? You’ve got a lovely home.” 

You can’t help but burn in pride at his comment. You are very fond of your home and all the work you’ve put into it, so you don’t think twice when you nod and begin to lead the captain to your home. Shanks follows with a smug grin, eyes flickering over your shapely legs as he follows you. 

You don’t take him inside yet. Instead, you point out the gardens and flower beds that line your home and show him the view from the cliff behind the cottage. Neal had thankfully wandered back into his pen, but Hank seemed to have taken a liking to Shanks, for the big lug had yet to leave the pirate's side. You shoot him a look. Traitor. 

Surprisingly, the redhead makes good conversation after getting over the awkwardness of the sudden visitation, and you find yourself relaxing in his presence. He seemed genuine in his goodwill and cheer, and his lax behavior had you smiling and inviting him inside. 

“Would you like some tea?” You ask after a moment of comfortable silence. Shanks easily agrees, and you lead him inside your home. Neal bleats and tries to bite Shanks when he passes the pen, and the redhead shoots the goat a glare. 

You snicker at the sight and go about the kitchen to make your guest some tea. You avoid the peppermint, which is meant specifically for Mihawk, and instead settle on a strong lavender tea. You mix in sugar for both mugs and then hand it off to Shanks. 

Shanks sips, humming at the taste and finding it not bad. He wasn’t usually a tea person, but he could be polite. He looks around your home, taking in the hanging herbs and the strings of peppers that crisscross by your windows. Your home looks straight out of a storybook, and the homey atmosphere has him sighing deeply, shoulders loose and relaxed. Shanks doesn’t remember the last time he felt like this in someone else’s presence. He takes another sip of the sweet-tasting drink and casts his eyes to the opening of the living room, and his gaze promptly zeros in on a familiar-looking coat. 

It's a long coat, dark and made out of fine leather with intricate patterns sewn into the arms and along the sides. The inside is a deep dead, and Shanks knows in that instant that this is the young woman that his friend had spoken of all those months ago. No, he corrects, it’s been close to a year since the last time the two men had spoken. Two emotions war inside of him at once. Elation that this is the woman who had caught Mihawk's attention and pure green envy that the other man had found you first. 

Shanks keeps his face clear of anything that might give him away and then knocks back his tea, placing it in the sink to be washed at a later time. You eye his sudden movements, and Shanks responds with an easy grin and a hand extended out to you. The pirate wouldn’t dare try and steal you away from his friend, but there was nothing wrong with the two of you getting to know one another in his eyes. 

“Come meet my crew?” The redhead offers quietly. There is pressure in the air as if taking Shanks’ hand would open a new chapter in your life. You debate for a long time, looking up and catching his dark gaze. His eyes are like melted chocolate, so soft and inviting, and so much different from the only other man you know. 

What would Mihawk think of you out there on the beach, mingling with a dangerous pirate crew? You knew who this man was and knew some of the rumors about him from Mihawk and Perona. But then you think, harder, and know that Dracule would never begrudge you having fun. He actively encouraged it whenever you became playful, though it was usually Perona that he would send after you. 

You lick your lips and make a decision, reaching out to take Shanks’ hand. 

“Okay. Just for a bit, though.”

Shanks grins like a hyena and wraps his fingers tight around your hand, “Sure thing, baby. Let’s go.”

The pirate captain tugs you out of your kitchen and then out of your home entirely, leading you down the path and to the beach so quickly that you don’t have the time to examine the new pet name or how it makes you feel. The redhead leads you to where his crew has already laid out cases of booze and food. Shanks grins at you and tugs you close, flurries exploding around the two of you when you fall into his side. He enjoys the wide-eyed look that you shoot him and then turns you towards his crew.  

“Guys,” Shanks announces and winks, sending your cheeks up in flames, “this is,_, our host!”  

 @writingmysanity @kenkenmaaa @foggyturtleknightangel @browneyedhufflepuff @goth-mami-writer @myradiaz @fluffybunnyu @bookandstar

[loakstahni]

Sluttly little waist~

MDNI🔞 READ AT YOUR OWN RISK! DONT LIKE? DONT READ!!

A/N- I was bored as hell- and kept thinking about quaritch being vary vocal during sex and stuff, plus i keep seeing fics based around it so wanted to give a go at it!!

Recom!miles quaritch x avatar!fem reader

Smut without plot, unprotected sex, creampie, rough sex, female and male orgasm, quaritch getting whiny, slight overstemulated quaritch, dryhumping, tsaheylu.

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Info:

You and quaritch had been sneaking around for a few months now, well.. More like a whole year, it started when quaritch got his frist rut after becoming a na'vi and he instantly went to find you. He had always been drawn to you as human, but then he met paz, had miles Jr, and then died.

Now he didn't have anything except his squad, he didn't want to be with walker, or z-dog, Yes they were nice and stuff but he didn't, just didn't feel drawn to them.

You were on the head of the avatar program, still working to get to understand Pandora and the na'vi better. You had so much experience as a na'vi, so much more then miles. And thats why he went to you first.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was late, and yet you were wide awake, miles laided out over your bed. His tail curled tightly around yours, "can you out the book down and cuddle me already?" He grumbles, yellow eyes glaring up at you. You giggle softly, your ears twitching. You'd often stay in your avatar body for days before returning to your human one, you we thinking of having a Consciousness transfer done but still didn't know yet.

"Let me finish this chapter first, ok kitty?" You giggle softly, gently ruffling his short, shaved black hair. "Don't call me fuckin' kitty." Miles grumbles, slightly leaning his head up to chase after your touch before you pull your hand away. "Ok ok, i won't call you kitty anymore." You laugh softly, leaning back agaisnt your headboard and you bury your nose back into the book you were reading.

Quaritch sighs softly, turning his head and looking at your candle that smelled like fresh rain and musk. His nose twitches slightly at the scent, he secretly loved it but never told you. "Ok, fuck the book, im done waiting." He grumbles, grabbing you by the ankles and dragging you down until your flat on your back, he slaps the book from your hold and pushes it off the bed, surely losing the page you were reading.

"Hey! That was uncalled for-" miles cuts your bitching off with a rough kiss, he grips at your hips, tugging yours upwards towards his with a hungry growl. "Zip it." He growls after breaking the kiss, he slips a hand up the hem of your sweater, pulling it over your head and throwing it somewhere off your bed. "Hm.. There my girls are.." He hums softly, leaning down, nuzzling his face into your breasts through your sports bra. "Fuckin' love these things.." Miles grumbles, a rough and deep purr rumbling deep in his throat.

"You always say that." You giggle softly, your ears drooping submivssely and your face flushing a deep purple. "Because they are perfect.." He mumbles, gently unhooking your bra from your shoulders and slowly pulling it off with a deep groan. "Yeah.. There they are.." He instantly starts kneading at your breasts with his rough, warm hands. Your breath hitches and your arch your back up into him. He kneads at your breasts for a few more moments before sitting up, pulling his tank top off and throwing it aside before working his belt off.

"Miss me that much?" You tease with a giggle, lifting your hips off your bed as you pull your sweats down, tossing them off the bed. "You never learn to shut your mouth?" He growls, his ears flat to his skull making you shiver a bit. Quaritch throws his belt off your bed and his cammies follow soon after. "Thought you loved when i don't shut up." You giggle, wrapping your legs around his sluttly little waist and pulling him down towards you again.

"For God's sake, zip it." He chuckles roughly, placing a hand by your head so he could hover over you. He pushes his hips flush against yours, shoving his cloth covered bulge agaisnt your covered heat. "Mhm.." You groan softly, letting your head drop back agaisnt your pillows. Quaritch rolls his hips forward, grinding his cock agaisnt your clothed clit with a deep growl.

"Mhp! S-stop teasing please.." You whine softly, your eyes looking up to his. "You started it." He growls, pulling you kuru braid over your chest before reaching back and pulling his over his shoulder. "Miles, wait! You don't know what your doing-" he glares down at you, yellow eyes piercing right through your soul. "Don't test me, I know exactly what im doing." He carefully brings his kuru down to yours, watching as your pink little tendrils search for his before they intagle together, glowing a light pink.

His head drops down to your shoulder and he grips your hip with his free hand, his pupils dilating as his mind of flooded with you, and your mind is flooded with him. "M-miles.." You whine softly, gently grabbing at his arm. "Yeah.. I gotcha.." He mumbles, his tail curling around your thigh. He sits up, quickly pulling your underwear down your thighs and leaving them to hang on one of your ankles. Miles stares down at your slick folds, his ears swiveled forward in awe. He's never seen you this wet, and he's fucked you enough to know so.

"Goddamn, babygirl.." He mumbles, leaning down closer to your cunt. Quaritch presses his nose into the top of your pelvic bone, letting out a deep groan before lifting himself back up. You look up at him, your ears drooped and face flushed. "What..?" You ask shyly, your tail thumping against your mattress. "Your soaked, like.. I've never seen you this worked up." He rasps, sitting up on his knees and pulling his boxers down to his ankles. He hovers back over you, pushing his hips forwards, making his hard cockhead ram into your clit.

"Miles!" You squeak, your hands grabbing at his sides. "Hm, my bad." He chuckles, angling his hips down a bit and pushing forwards again. The head of his cock catching against your entrance, he chuckles deeply, shoving his hips forwards, bury his length to the hilt in one quick movement. "Mhm! Easy please!" You whine out, your gummy walls hugging him tightly.

Miles groans softly, feeling just how overly sensitive you both were from making tsaheylu. "Yeah, sorry not happening tonight." Miles withdraws his hips, before thrusting forward again with a deep moan. He repeats this until he's found a good deep and rough pace. His head drops down into your your chest, his nose pressed in between your breasts as he thrusts in and out of your tight walls.

"Fuck! S-slow down.. Mhpf!" You sob, your hands grabbing at his back and shoulders, nails digging into his sweaty azure skin. "Can't- fuckin' can't." He growls, gripping your hips tightly. Quaritch's heavy, full balls slapping against the curve of your ass each time he slams home. He felt high, high off the feeling of being bonded with you, he felt if he didn't fuck you hard he would lose it.

His pace starts growing sloppy, thrusts growing shallow as his high started forming in his core. Your whines and moans grew louder and more drawn out, indicating you were too, almost there. Miles reaches a hand down, rubbing roughly against your clit making you sob. "C-cumming fuck!" You squeak, you walls clenching tightly around his length as you release your clear arousal all over his shaft.

Quaritch whines into your chest, stilling his hips for a moment. His knot starting to swell at the base of his cock, he desperately humps against you, gripping at your bruised hips. "Oh Fuck, fuck! Open up f'r me.. C'mon!" He growls, shoving his hips forwards once more, his thick knot popping into your tight heat making you screech weakly. He whines loudly into your chest, hips pumping desperately into your cunt as his length throbs roughly inside your walls as he unloads himself inside you.

"Damn.. Oh fuck.." You pant, gently cradling his head agasint your chest. Miles pants heavily, his body shivering as he lets himself collapse ontop of you. His knot tied into your gummy walls, insuring none of his seed go to waste.

Quaritch lifts his head from your chest, gently kissing your forehead then giving you a soft kiss. "I love you, Y/n.." He mumbles, letting his head flop back against your breasts. "I love you too, miles.." You whisper Horsley.

Now miles had more of a reason to be with you. You were his and he was yours, for life..

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[tactical-mode]

Wall Market | Episode 19

Remember to turn on CC for the dialogue!

Happy Pride! Enjoy part 1 of the CROSS DRESSING ARC. Cloud, you egg. Despite the amazing changes in 7R, I will stay true to the goal of making this as faithful to the OG as possible. The OG takes a more bouffon-city-of-freaks approach to the LGBT content, which is… potentially fraught. Well, if the original writers were not openly queer, we here at Tactical Mode certainly are. Join us as we point and laugh at a very flustered "straight man" and his bisexual disaster girlfriend as they chase down the lesbian bartender to join their polycule.

I mean, uh, welcome to Wall Market.

[Chapter 09] Scenes 24-27

As in the previous episode, we've had to use clips from multiple scenes in order to recreate this moment.

The shots where Aerith is running was my experiment for the episode. I have learned how to boomerang the player character around the field through clever use of hooking/unhooking the camera. This causes his companion(s) to dash off after him – in the direction of my choosing! The shot where Aerith us running after her future girlfriend the chocobo cart was made by starting to the very far right, just out of frame, with Cloud and Aerith; unhooking the camera and dashing to Aerith's intended starting point for the run; re-hooking the camera which teleports Cloud (but not Aerith) back to his original position just to the right of frame. Now Aerith will run back to him. Action!

The last shot in this sequence is positioned to appear as if Aerith is walking back to Cloud after chasing the cart, when in 7R it is reversed - he actually hops on the cart for an extended scene (snip snip) and walks back to her.

Scene 29

I took about 2 hours of footage of all the townsfolk and dark corners of this environment. I was not a fan of it in OG, but in Remake it one of the best RPG towns I can think of, except for one thing: Uematsu's song The Oppressed (or Oppressed People) has been replaced with an annoying as hell cha-cha song that sounds like a cross between A Whole New World from Aladdin and Copacabana, complete with canned orchestra hits and a slide whistle.

The version of The Oppressed you are hearing comes from EC. Nice and clean: just a drumkit, a flute, a clarinet, a bubble organ, and a nasty fuckin' electric bass. In the C section, some strings underscore it, and an oboe (the Final Fantasy VII instrument) arrives to ferry us smoothly into the bass-heavy coda.

Our interrogation at the Honey Bee Inn was done entirely with movie magic. While the guy at the door does say something when you interact with him (to the tune of "buzz off") you don't get much from him. In 7R you can go inside the lobby and even bring Aerith with you (and yes, she does ogle the honey bee girls).

(there is no heterosexual explanation for this)

Within the Honey Bee Inn you can meet Andrea, a sexy emcee who will hold the secret to Cloud's feminine transformation. In the OG's version of events, only Cloud can enter in an optional sequence. Instead of being a queer cabaret it is a sleazy brothel where Cloud gets violated - I won't be including either sequence.

Scenes 30-31

Heading to Don Corneo's place, we meet his bouncers, who tell him to scram.

Back outside, Aerith has the idea to sneak Cloud in with a disguise that isn't at all motivated by her wanting to see him in a corset. In 7R, this scene is interrupted by Johnny, an NPC who I have neglected to include in this series so far despite appearing in the OG as a missable side-character. He lives near Tifa's bar in Sector 7 and was on the train that our heroes leapt from a few episodes ago. His character design in 7R is great but his role in the story has been expanded, and not in a way that allows me to recreate his side content. So, he has been cut.

Instead, the scene has been constructed like a few others before it - with me filming idle animations until they line up to my liking, and using over-the-shoulder shots to mask the fact that no one is actually speaking.

The penultimate shot here of Aerith running back into the market was made using the boomerang trick I used at the beginning of the episode - boomeranging Cloud to the bottom of the stairs so that she runs down and out of sight.

The final shot gave me a little chuckle when I decided to put it mid-credits. Oh Cloud, you innocent boy.

Final Thoughts

You got plenty of my thoughts in this blog! Usually I try to be a bit more candid with my opinions, but here we are. The next episode is going to be constructed using the same idle animation tricks, since OG Cloud gets his dress in a different manner than in 7R.

[slasherlaurie]

PLS GIVE ME ARTIST X SURVIVOR!FEM!READER THAT BEFRIENDS HER CROWS ON ACCIDENT BY SAVING ONE AFTER ANOTHER SURVIVOR HURTS IT

The reader beats tf out of the other survivor because she's VERY much against animal abuse, so after she patches the crow up and gently plops it in the nest with a little forehead kiss. Then she hunts that other survivor down for sport. But around the artist, she's all shy and sweet (aka bi panic)

Essentially they meet/get close bc of this

I love this woman. I don't know how to function around her. I have also always loved birds and befriended the crows in my neighbourhood, so when she was added to the game I short-circuited.

Thank you.

HIII yes absolutely queen 🫡🫡 i made this so the reader is a newish survivor if thats ok? i just felt it fit a lil bit more for the story but lmk if not and i’ll fix it!

warnings: minor violence, almost implied nsfw but its more just specifying the reader is female, yun-jin kicks a crow, vv long read, my shitty ass english 😭

NOT PROOFREAD/BETA READ

Carmina Mora/The Artist x Crow saviour!Reader

the trial had been going as most do, repair the generators, unhook and heal teammates, try not to be hooked yourself. you were waiting to go unhook Adam, hiding in a particular corner in the realm with the stacked cars (autohaven? you hadn’t been in the entity’s world long enough to remember), when Yun-Jin Lee came sneaking over to you. just as you had decided to sprint over and heal Adam together to get it done faster, a crow appeared seemingly out of nowhere, the small mass of black feathers cawing loudly and alerting the killer of your location. you heard Yun-Jin curse softly in Korean under her breath and then ready herself to sprint away and grab Adam, but not before giving the crow a hard kick to the side.

you were never a violent person, but in this moment you saw red. had it not been for the pained caws of the poor bird, you would’ve immediately taken chase after Yun-Jin to get the crow’s payback with murderous intent. fortunately for the poor thing, you stuck around to help, not even caring if the killer does come to attack you.

you began your approach to the creature slowly, softly trying to communicate you’re not a threat. before you were taken by the entity you had befriended and helped many crows in your neighbourhood, so this shouldn’t be hard.

“hey-shhhh its ok, im here to help you”, you whispered as you took off your jacket to wrap the poor thing in. from the looks of it, the sweet creature wasnt hurt too bad yet rage still flooded your being. its not like it has a choice after all, it just had a job to do. deciding then and there you were going to get revenge for this, you hid for the rest of the trial, making sure that your new friend was safe and comfortable with you all the way back to the campfire.

due to the strange abundance of medkits back at the survivor camp, it was easy for you to get your little pal all fixed up. it was clearly scared at first, but it quickly relaxed, forming a connection with you and feeling you were someone to trust. after a good bit of throat-tearing yelling at Yun-Jin, you took some time to think about where to bring the bird. leading to where you are now.

the eyrie of crows was not a realm you had found yourself dropped into a trial in, yet you had heard the other survivors speak of a monstrous bird woman, turned and twisted by the entity until it was hard to tell where human stopped and ink began. you’re scared, but curious too. you know your friends often exaggerate the horror of the newest arrivals in the fog, so you wonder if The Artist (as she had been assigned by the ones who had faced her most so far) is really as terrifying as you expect.

turns out, you wont have to wait long to find out.

as you finish making your way to what seems to be the main building of the sandy realm, you take a moment to stare in awe at the magnitude of the tower before checking your feathered companion is still ok. climbing over a window to get inside, you find yourself in awe once again, but for a completely different reason.

from the paintings scattered around the bottom floor, to the large messy bookshelves, it is made clear that this place does not belong in the fog. its far too cozy, too welcoming. infact, so welcoming that you dont even notice the tall, nimble figure sneaking up on you.

the only warning you receive of the killer is an angry caw before inky hands wrap around your neck and slam you into the nearest wall. as you wince in pain and surprise, The Artist turns you around to face her.

this… this cannot be the same killer that your fellow survivors had talked about. she’s so gorgeous. too pretty. as her warm, angry breath fans across your face, you feel butterflies rise in your stomach. she almost seems to be carved out of marble, perfect cheekbones and jawline complementing her sharp eyebrows and sharper gaze. as she caws again, as if to ask what you’re doing in her home (or as close as someone can get to a home in the fog), you cant help but notice how soft her lips look too, a sudden desire growing for her to paint your lips black with the ink dripping from hers. her grip tightens, and you remember why youre here.

“i h-have a crow. was injured,” you barely manage to wince out against her tight grip, while softly taking your small buddy from your makeshift carrying sling, “h-here.”

you seem to have made the right decision bringing your companion here, as The Artist’s eyes immediately soften upon reaching your hands. letting go of your neck, she trails her hands down to yours in a way that immediately brings back those pesky butterflies, but you focus on your feathered friend.

cawing affectionately, The Artist softly takes the bird from your hands into hers, making her way upstairs. she doesn’t get too far though, because when your buddy realizes you aren’t following, it immediately starts cawing and flapping its wings in your direction in a panic. confused, The Artist pauses, holding the bird up the stairs and then back down towards you, then repeating as if confused. she coos to the bird quietly and it responds like they’re whispering to each other, and after a bit of back and forth, The Artist turns and gestures for you to follow her up the stairs. you walk behind her slightly, not completely able to keep up with her long, pale legs covered by her swaying dress and- “no. not the time,” you think to yourself, face reddening.

so enamoured and distracted by the presence of The Artist, you hardly notice the large crow’s nest in front of you. however, a sudden inky hand to your torso prevents you from colliding with it, almost making you jump in the best way with how dangerously close her fingertips are to your breasts. removing her hand much too quickly, The Artist beckons another crow over, as if telling it to take care of the new addition to the group. you pat your friend on the head on more time, wishing it luck and promising to see it again, and then its off with the others.

already missing your feathered buddy, you turn to find The Artist staring at you, reading you. her beautiful black eyes are so sharp, yet the anger from just before has faded, replaced with something softer. cawing once, she takes your hand in hers and leads you to the balcony on the same floor. amidst becoming a mess over the feel of her hand wrapping yours so perfectly, so fittingly, you worry for a moment that she’s taking you out here to push you over the edge (though she doesnt seem like she’d do that from what you’ve learned so far). yet, you are soon proven wrong as you round a corner and are met with a painting clearly belonging to the woman who had done all the ones downstairs, the same woman who is now weaving her ink fingers between yours and reaching for the bottom of the canvas with her other hand. she wants your opinion?

“its lovely! youre very skil-“

you’re cut off by a hard shake of her head. The Artist is pointing at something more clearly now: small letters at the bottom left of the canvas, hardly even noticeable if not pointed out. leaning in to read properly, you softly gasp when you realize. its a name. no, its her name. The Artist’s.

Carmina Mora.

“Carmina… that’s so-“ you have so many words to describe, all positive, yet you settle on “-gorgeous.”

turning away so she doesnt see the growing blush on your face (and luckily for Carmina, so you miss her red tinged cheeks at your compliment), you introduce yourself in return and offer your hand out to shake. only for Carmina to take it with both of hers, and hold it to the middle of her chest while nodding her head. a thank you.

“god,” you think to yourself, “im so gay”

the two of you then spend the next few hours or so together, getting to know each other. you get along so well, so naturally, that you wonder to yourself if you were destined to meet outside the fog as well, if you had not been taken. Carmina is so drawn to you, unexpectedly comfortable around you in a way she’s never been with anyone she’s known. you both soak up each other’s presence so much you hardly even notice the sun beginning to set.

you dont want to leave, yet you know the other survivors would endanger themselves and go looking for you if you dont get back before nighttime, and you cant risk that (though you wouldnt mind if Yun-Jin went missing). wishing Carmina goodbye, you begin to walk away slowly, needing to spend as much time with her as possible. however, you dont get very far before pale ink arms are wrapping around your waist and a warm chest is pressing into your back. Carmina coos into your ear, as if asking you to come back soon, and of course, you will. you promise.

relieved to know she’ll see you again, Carmina lets you go and watches you until the fog consumes your figure. you’re a welcome surprise to her, she had never expected to meet someone in her new home that she’d tolerate, let alone enjoy the company of. the other killers were loud and cruel, and the survivors were awful and often obnoxious. except you. you’re different, you understand.

making up her mind, Carmina decides she will send crows for you soon, make sure you visit quickly. you’ve caught her attention, and she has a strange feeling like this was meant to be 🖤

[carlsdarling]

Girl i have n ideea. Imagine reader with those african braids and carl helping them get the braids out, and carl just finds the reader very hot, a lil bit later some smut and after care, like sjhsnsksjskaka, it will be very cute!💜💜

Getting br[laid]ed

Carl helps Y/N getting rid of her braids... Bit of a plot, then sex. Everyone is 18 or over.

WARNINGS: smut, nsfw, unprotected sex

The little braids in your hair were annoying you. You wished you hadn't let Jessie talk you into braiding your hair at the temples with lots of little colored beads into a cornrow-like hairstyle at Thanksgiving. You had only liked it for the first few days; then you thought it was childish, and now - a few weeks later - the beads had grown out quite a bit, too, and it looked odd.

You had stopped by Jessie's to have her undo the braids, but she hadn't been home, so you scowled and turned back around when Carl approached you. "Have you been to Ron's? I'm on my way to see him now, too," he said.

"There's no one home," you said tersely.

Carl regarded you inquiringly. "What's the matter?" he wondered. "You look upset."

"Oh, it's nothing," you replied. "I just wanted Jessie to help me get rid of these stupid beads and braids," you grumbled, "I can't do it alone."

"Well, I can help you," Carl offered. "It can't be that difficult," he said optimistically.

"Really?"

"Yes. Come with me," he urged you, and just walked ahead to his house. Once there, you went up to Carl's room. He gestured for you to sit on the floor in front of his bed, and took a seat on the bed himself. "Let's see," he said indecisively, fingering the strands of your hair.

It was plucking. "Ow," you complained.

"Sorry," Carl muttered. "The beads are pretty tight." He gently loosened them, one by one, and tugged at the braids. Bushy and wavy, your hair stood out from your head, and Carl had to laugh.

"What's so funny?" you asked, miffed.

"Look in the mirror," Carl snorted when he had removed all the braids. You stood up and walked over to his closet where a mirror hung.

"Oh my God," you looked at your reflection in horror. "I look like an exploded broom!" Hastily, you sought out the bathroom, where you smoothed your curly locks with water before returning to Carl. To your surprise, he had switched on the TV and lay down on the bed; he propped himself up on his elbow, turned on his side, and gazed at you. Not for the first time, you noticed how attractive he was. His shiny hair fell messily into his forehead. "What are you doing?" you asked in wonder. "Are you tired?"

"No, I just...I thought we could chill a little more. It started raining anyway." He tapped the spot next to him.

Hesitantly, you approached the bed and lay down next to him. "What's that?" you pointed to the TV, where someone had just been chased through a house full of wax figures and then was doused with hot wax.

"House of Wax," Carl answered, but he was looking blankly at you. His face was very close to yours, and before you could think about it, he kissed you softly on the lips, then pulled back and looked at you, waiting. You were completely perplexed. "I'm sorry, Y/N," Carl apologized, embarrassed. "I've wanted to do this for a long time, and I thought you'd like it too, so..." That's as far as he got, because you had closed his mouth with yours. Carl's lips were soft and rough at the same time, and you kissed tenderly at first, then more and more intensely. Carl's hands had found their way under your top, and you didn't object when he unhooked your bra and carefully began to stimulate your breasts. You inhaled sharply as he turned his attention to your nipples and they immediately became rock hard under his caresses. "Do you like that?" assured Carl hesitantly.

"Yes," you gasped, "Carl, go on." You clung to him as he continued to fondle your breasts, allowing him to undress you. You shivered in the cold air, and Carl flipped back the covers after also removing his shirt and tossing it next to the bed. You two crawled under the covers and continued, the atmosphere heating up more and more.

"Should we take off all our clothes?" whispered Carl, as you were already fiddling with his belt. You just nodded, burying your face in the crook of his neck. He smelled so delicious. You giggled as you finally lay together naked, groping insecurely for Carl's cock. It was bigger than you had suspected, and touching it caused you to moan involuntarily and get wet between your legs. You were amazed at how quickly your body was reacting to Carl's touch and his pure presence. Carl grabbed your hand and moved it up and down faster and harder, sighing lustfully. At the same time, he let his other hand move between your legs. You spread your thighs as he began to finger you, screaming out. "You're all wet," Carl whispered in fascination, finding your most sensitive spot, turning you into a whimpering, begging mess.

"Do you have condoms?" you stammered eagerly. You could no longer form a coherent thought, your whole being, thinking and feeling was focused on Carl and what you were doing with each other.

"No," Carl said contritely. "I can pull out, but if it's not safe enough for you, we can..."

"I want to, Carl," you said breathlessly. At that moment, you didn't care whether he pulled out or not, or whether you got pregnant or not. All you wanted was Carl. You were helpless against your desire, rolling onto your back and pulling Carl on top of you. You were so wet and Carl was so hard that his dick slid effortlessly inside you.

"Fuck, princess, I won't last long," Carl moaned, making short, quick thrusts. It took him no more than a minute to tense up completely. "I'm cumming," he announced and tried to pull out, but you held him tight.

"Do it inside," you pleaded, "Please, Carl. I don't care. Do it inside."

Carl closed his eyes, arched his back, and pumped with firm, deep thrusts. His cum was hot and plenty, and as you felt him squirting into you, your own orgasm came over you like a shockwave. Gasping for air, the two of you lay still.

Carl had his eye tightly closed, and soon his breathing rate revealed that he had fallen asleep. You were looking at his sweet face and stroking through his long brown hair when an idea came to you. You suppressed a giggle as you braided Carl's hair into many little braids.

--

Tags: @loveforcarl @knochentrocken0808

[qulizalfos]

pavement won’t answer me — 3742 words, 9-1-1 post 8x08 thought experiment. for @lighthouseas!! bee, thank you for always being so supportive and kind to me when i write. ily💛

I am never anywhere, anywhere I go

When I’m home, I’m never there long enough to know

I am never anywhere, anywhere I go

When I’m home, I’m never there long enough.

—Ketchum, ID by boygenius

A songbird trills from outside the window. It swoops in a measured, graceful arc from one wire to another like a brush brimming with glossy crimson paint gliding across a canvas. The blur of it is difficult to see past the streaks of rain racing each other down the panes. Every tree is bare and saturated.

South Bedford Street, Los Angeles. It’s filled with a meditative hum, perhaps a reflection on the way every morning here felt distantly surreal to Buck even after a year or two of knowing Eddie. The first time he woke up here he peeled a clementine mechanically at the counter and waited for the house to stir, watching the sun filter inside in a slab, ruminating. Chris woke first but he denied a piece of fruit, rifling through the selection of cereals that Buck passed him from the high shelf he couldn’t reach as Buck replied, your loss, before another mouthful of saccharine orange burst between his teeth. Eddie padded in a few minutes later, hair mussed, wordlessly accepting an offered segment from Buck and weighing in on whatever had consumed Buck and Chris in momentary debate. Buck wishes he hadn’t forgotten the topic. All he remembers is that Chris won.

Buck watched them wear the sunlight like old coats, biting back a (sappy) smile and thinking, if I could freeze right now and slip back to it whenever I could, I’d do it for anything. A few months ago, Chris filed out the door, Buck’s thumb swept over Eddie’s shoulder and the truth of it weighed heavy in his mind as it is now, how he has never been known so intrinsically as this house knows him now. Not even when he chased it across state lines, mailing postcards to a ghost and reciting the lines with each new ceiling for his eyes to bore into. You could build something here, and it won’t be perfect but it’ll be yours. And, later: which could be just as good some day. 

He hadn’t even been looking this time. Buck has spent an overwhelming majority of his life making it up as he goes along. He thinks of fresh clementines, and sun. He thinks of a couch littered with many-hued throw pillows. He thinks leaving this place will mean leaving a bit of him behind, too.

The boxes are arranged haphazardly, a cardboard archipelago into which they dutifully file away Eddie’s entire life. Some sit unevenly on others, like an afterthought. Eddie and Buck catalog the contents of each with a Sharpie scrawl on the side. Books, Clothes, just ‘Dining Room’, over and over. The slivers of morning rain persist. They patter on the roof and dribble down windows and bounce from the pavement with an unwavering lethargy, like even the weather knows there is reason to be subdued. Buck scrubs at his face, right above his birthmark, and flits around the living room. Living is a generous term. It’s never looked so barren. He unhooks a picture frame by the door gently, the words LONE STAR STATE winking in the warm light gushing from the sloping lampshades dotted around the place. The invisible checklist Buck treats like a countdown dwindles, end sidling closer, and he rummages around for anything he could add to it. If he stopped to think about how fast this was slipping by… he doesn’t know. It’s just easier like this. Methodical, objective. One less article of furniture keeping Eddie from leaving. One more tether to home removed. Not thinking about it too hard. He does not scowl — he has had enough time on the dead-silent drive over to school his expression into a patient acknowledgement of the matter. He sets the Texas poster down atop the coffee table with the dullest clatter, so soft he barely hears it himself. His thumbprint loiters on the glass even after the press of cold is a falling back to the role of being just one more memory. He hopes, manic, that it stays there, marring an otherwise unspoiled surface and following Eddie where Buck cannot. 

Chimney and Hen converse softly one room over, their voices overlapping almost imperceptibly, but it dissolves in the fizz of rain until it may as well be white noise to him. As Eddie surmised, most acquaintances he’d invited turned the opportunity down, not recognizing clearing out his soon-to-be old house out as a particularly fun or rejuvenating way to spend a Sunday morning. Buck folds a knitted, navy blanket into smaller and smaller rectangles, until it fits between his palms and he has to compress it to keep it from coming undone again.

There is a For Sale sign propped up forlornly in Eddie’s front yard, now plastered over with a correction in bold print: SOLD. Buck asked Athena to run two extra background checks. She refused to run a third, though not unkindly. A young-ish couple with a baby on the way, bright and friendly in that unobtrusive way, just looking to carve a life for themselves. Genuine. Quietly happy. Buck met them when they toured the house, just because Eddie had mentioned they seemed serious about buying.

One of them caught her wife’s hand and squeezed, tangling their fingers together as they peered into the kitchen, exchanging low whispers. “Hey, looks even nicer in person.”

The other shot back, “I better not almost set it on fire on Valentine’s Day, then.” The first burst out laughing, and her partner’s eyes, deep brown, softened reverently like she’d heard the sound a thousand times and hoped to hear it a thousand more. Buck’s gaze wandered to Eddie, who was already watching him.

The rain peters out for a moment. 

Buck gives the room a once-over. He’s coming to terms with it in increments. Eddie wants to see Chris’s life in more than brief vignettes. Really, Buck shouldn’t know what that’s like, but he’s done pretending he doesn’t. And Eddie smiles a little easier than before, so Buck, wanting the unequivocal best for both of them, throws himself into helping.

He drifts to Eddie’s room without really devoting much thought to it, still clutching the blanket. He crosses the house with an easy familiarity; Buck’s already committed more to memory in LA than he ever imagined he would, anywhere, and this is particularly ingrained in his subconscious— which floorboards squeal underfoot and the way the light floods, lucent, straight through the curtains when it gets real sunny outside, the way it tends to in the lulls between showers, and which potted plants are on the precipice of wilting. He gave back his keys, but their shape is fresh in his mind. On movie nights he assumes his designated spot on the couch, between Chris and Eddie so they can fish popcorn out of Chris’s favorite bowl, dyed a glossy, cherry red. It migrated from Buck’s loft to Eddie’s home —Buck’s home, too. That sentence used to arrive with a maybe, with Buck scratching a line through it, with a flush, but he’s come to like it, actually— and now to an unassuming box sealed with a flimsy length of tape.

So. This place does not belong to him, in any legitimate capacity. In every other sense of the word, it does. And it has for longer than he really understood until too late. 

Eddie’s door is ajar. He hesitates. 

Eddie himself is perched at the edge of his bed, elbows balanced on his knees and hands clasped loosely. He stares forward with a clockwork kind of melancholy, at where the newer paint clashes so subtly with the rest of the wall it takes a trained eye to recognize where it’s been patched up. He traces the outlines of the blotches intently with his line of sight, like he’s memorizing them. Buck wonders if he’s skimming over that night again, too, as he knocks four times in quick succession, just above the section of doorjamb that still bears a few miniscule splinters. In a day he will remember that he’ll never see those again.

Eddie’s smile breaks across his face like the first impression of light at dawn and washes Buck’s dismal train of thought aside. It’s one of the most beautiful things Buck’s ever seen.

“Mind if I join you?”

Eddie moves over, gesturing to the new space at the foot of the bed, which Buck takes. He’s still fidgeting with the blanket, so he nods down at it. “I was thinking,” he begins, slowly, “since we’re out of space in there, this could just go in with—”

Eddie’s already nodding. “Yeah, good idea. Uh, far corner.”

Buck gauges the gap, scrunching the pliable fabric into a poor imitation of a ball and tossing it towards the open box of sheets. It unspools in midair, hits the wall with a muffled, dejected thump, and unceremoniously lands on the floor. Eddie barks out a surprised laugh. Buck gives an aborted sort of shrug.

“And you still wanted me to go to those games with you,” he mutters, because Eddie was always asking until he wasn’t, opposite him on the firehouse couch or casually in the car over some mediocre Billboard Top 100 Buck’s heard twenty times but still can’t name, dialed way down. Once, after they wheeled a gurney into the ambulance, some guy with a basketball-induced concussion, Buck doesn’t really remember. He’d just replied by whacking the back doors twice and grinning, yeah, he’s not really helping your case, as the sirens kicked up again and Eddie couldn’t argue much but he gave a valiant effort anyway. Obviously, he doesn’t offer anymore. Buck adjusts his slipping grin. 

“Why wouldn’t I have?” Eddie crosses the room swiftly to sort the blanket neatly into the box. If Buck had another anywhere remotely within reach, he’d throw it at him, but the mattress is bare and he doesn’t want to leave the room. 

Eddie resumes his place on Buck’s right.

“I’m not answering that. Also, you— you’ve got some dust in your hair.”

“The fuck?” Eddie’s whole face crinkles in something adjacent to disgust, hands hovering around his head, swiping at where he assumes it sits. 

“Suits you.” Buck, who bats the idea of reaching out to pry it free himself away with a stick, or like, a metal bar, motions to the side until Eddie finds it and knocks it free, and gives him a nod of assent. 

Eddie chooses to give that a dry laugh and nothing more. Buck is both disappointed and relieved beyond measure. “Probably from when I was clearing out under the bed. Thanks.”

“Dude, use a vacuum first.”

“Too late now.” The rain resumes its dissonant staccato drilling. “Where’d I be without you?”

“Texas,” Buck shoots back. Eddie rolls his eyes.

The silence usually washes over him in pleasant ripples but now the slight gap is crowded with missed opportunities to say something meaningful, which is a chance he probably won’t get again until he fumbles it as they’re both catching up over beers slick with condensation and stale small talk in five years’ time at some fucking Christmas reunion, hosted under a roof Eddie’s never seen before. The innate need to fill it lurks behind his eyes. There’s that saying about old habits, the wording of which Buck used to get wrong. What he says still manages to surprise him. “The day we met, Bobby mentioned another station was supposed to get you instead.” 

Eddie glances up. Buck presses on, turning it over and picking at it like a frayed sleeve. “Yeah, said he convinced you to come to the 118.”

“In fairness, it wasn’t that hard.”

Buck laughs. “Hey, I’m not surprised. I just— I don’t know, I wonder about it sometimes. If you’d gone somewhere else.” He’s staring at Buck like he usually does, like he’s soaking up every word. 

“Me too,” he confesses. “Sometimes. What do you think would’ve happened?”

“Shit, good question. Hard to imagine never knowing you, man.”

“Oh.” Eddie goes stock-still. “Buck—” 

“I know,” he cuts in. “I know. But that’s the thing, I mean, I can’t. I can’t picture it. So I think maybe whatever happens, I’m still gonna know you. Whatever that means. However I can.” 

“Even from eight hundred miles away,” Eddie finishes, something odd in his voice. There’s twin specks of light in his eyes, bright like streetlights, and something warm blossoms in Buck’s ribcage watching it, a familiar sensation. It’s always a little beautiful to know Eddie understands, a little more, what he means to Buck (read: everything). Like another thread of mutual conviction weaving them together, a little closer. It’s maddening.

Buck’s hand lands on Eddie’s upper arm, the fabric of his henley (Eddie owns a lot of henleys) bunching under a companionable squeeze. “Can’t get rid of me that easy.” He is lying, and they likely both know it. He could name too many people to attest to the fact.

Eddie’s face splits into a smile, pale red tinting his cheekbones. He folds them both into some kind of lopsided semi–hug, but Buck can’t conjure the word maybe when his face is buried in Eddie’s shoulder and his hands come up to his back. Eddie’s hair falls to the side a little — he hadn’t exactly had enough time to gel it meticulously without diverting from his strict timeplan that already accounted for the extensive goodbye, both inevitable and unanimously acknowledged — so it brushes Buck’s neck. Fleetingly, he is seized by a thought— he has no idea when (if) this’ll happen again, Buck’s head tucked into the crook between Eddie’s shoulder and neck, engulfed by the routine smell of fabric detergent. He almost recoils.

“Gonna miss you, Buck.”

Buck hangs on for two beats too long, which is at least a familiar sensation by now.

“Yeah, yeah.” He just disconnects, a little awkwardly. “So, you’re not worried?”

Eddie frowns. “About what? The move?”

Ostensibly the only word in his entire vocabulary: “Yeah.” Buck gesticulates elaborately and Eddie’s eyebrows climb higher. He drops it. “Feel like if I ever moved back to Hershey…” Someone’d have to drag him back, though he doesn’t know anyone there who would ever miss him so badly; Hershey, PA is for just-overcooked Thanksgiving dinners that double as masterclasses in static under your skin, scraped knees, hands and elbows, the name Evan, and his mother’s fragile voice bleeding through the thin wallpaper, not for living in. “It’d be super weird.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Buck can’t help it. He plays up a wince. “Yeah, see— I mean it like it’s a bad thing.”

“Not in this case.” Eddie catches his eye and acquiesces: “Okay, it’s gonna be weird. And it’s gonna feel like hell. But, it’s Chris. Nothing I wouldn’t do for him.”

Buck’s voice is soft; fond, wrapped around a smile. “Yeah, I know.”

Silence drapes itself comfortably around the room. This time, Buck stares at Eddie staring straight ahead.

“What’s on your mind?”

Eddie shakes his head a little. “Good thing I have so much practice with empty houses, right?”

Buck lets the moment stretch before he answers. 

“Did you know,” he begins, and Eddie lights up a fraction more, “that sailors couldn’t measure longitude at sea until the late 1700s?”

“Somehow,” Eddie admits, “I did not know that.”

Buck launches into a haphazard explanation. “Funny thing is, they had it measured out already. They’d known about it, as a concept, basically the third century BCE. Which is really fucking cool. And, you know, it was pretty manageable math, once they had a central point somewhere. They had a ton for a while, because most countries wanted to have their own running through their capitals. So, in theory, those sailors would be able to check their longitude at noon because the clock would be stuck in another time zone but they could use the sky to measure local time and work out how far east or west they were. More or less, I mean. It’s more complicated. Combined with latitude, it was pretty revolutionary for the time. Anyway— during the eighteenth century the most accurate clocks were pendulum clocks, which, obviously—”

“Wouldn’t work at sea?”

Buck nods vigorously. “Exactly. And people literally spent years trying to solve it. Find a timekeeper that still works when you’re in the middle of the ocean. They used latitude, the stars, sun, all this equipment that I could spend hours reciting, and a whole lot of educated guesses, but no way to know exactly where they were. Only where they were going.” Eddie breathes in, sharp. It’s not that he doesn’t believe Eddie, about him being fine. Eddie’s one of the most competent people he knows. It’s just that Eddie deserves more than fine, it’s just something he should know either way. “So, if you’re ever that alone, you gotta at least know you’ve always got us. Always. You don’t have to be here for that to be true. I know you’re gonna make it work, but come on, man.” Eddie’s got a weird look on his face. Buck hates that he can’t gauge it so he barrels on. “I told you I have your back.”

“Buck,” he gets out. Eddie’s hardly ever sounded like that before. It reminds Buck he didn’t actually imagine the way Eddie sounded when he demanded, are you hurt? a quarter millennium ago,  “I—”

They just sit there. 

Buck cards a hand through his hair, similarly ungelled as it has been for some time now, sidestepping, diverting, maybe doomsdaying a little. He privately thinks he’s earned it. “We should go help the others pack,” he says even if what that means lodges in his heart the way splinters lodge under your fingernails. We should leave this. We shouldn’t do this today. He retreats from this room, forever. 

“I’ll give you updates.” Buck turns on the threshold, Eddie silhouetted by the brilliance pouring in from behind him. “All the fucking time, okay?”

Buck already gave back his key, and his spare. Thought, desperate, but there’s more. I have so much more to give.

Throws him a grin. “You better.”

“Okay, Buck.” It’s as tender as anyone’s ever said his name. More, maybe. “Got your back, too.”

“I know you do.”

Updates, at least, are a bonus. He hopes to critique every musty gas station crouched on the desolate skyline, if only accompanied by static borrowed from the phone line. 

He can’t quantify the force turning him back around. “You’re sure this is a good idea?”

Eddie’s face is telling. Always has been, a fact Buck capitalizes on far too often than strictly necessary, glimpsing over in the back of the truck —or engine, sorry Bobby— to see Eddie warring with his own nonexistent poker face. Buck’s sort of taken it as a given, that he reads Eddie so conveniently, trading assessments of a situation with a shared look. The room holds its breath. Now, all he’s thinking is painted on his face, ambivalence scrawled in signature on his expression. Buck acknowledges that it would’ve been easier for him, had he not turned around, which is something at least. But still he can’t look away.

Eventually, Eddie snaps out of it. His posture relaxes even more, somehow, and he gives a nod that seems more intended to reassure him than Buck. “Too late now, right?”

“Well—” Buck breaks eye contact, desperate. It’s not like he has any right to a fucking say, but still. “Chris is smart, you know? He— he’ll come around.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Eddie scratches at his scalp. “But I don’t know how long that’ll take. So.” He draws the syllable out, a close enough attempt to levity. His conviction is abruptly blinding. “I gotta remind him I’m still fighting for him.”

How long until you let someone fight for you? Buck thinks, fleeting, and doesn’t say. “I’m on your side, Eds.”

“It’s for the best.” Buck stares, and stares. Eddie sighs, short. “Things change.”

Buck gives the most deflated, “Yeah.” of his entire life, and Eddie hesitates, before electing not to say anything. It’s not technically an answer, but it’ll have to do. Buck nods, shoots him another small smile. He knocks on the door again on his way out. The last thing he sees turning from the room is Eddie, shaking his head, motion approaching fond, and Buck’s heart is plummeting.

Eddie, with the help of people who spend an average day wading through infernos and floodwater and nightmares playing out before them —theirs and that of strangers’— by his side, compresses the contents of his place within a few hours. It’s a textbook husk, ready to be filled right back up. He hopes the new family maintain it like a shrine, or a museum article with a spindly placard spilling Buck’s guts on his behalf. The Closest to Home Evan Buckley’s Ever Found. Dated 2018 - 2024. He thinks he spends forever waiting in the now-muted living room. He thinks he could spend another forever there, too. The last hug they share before Eddie slips into his truck is crushing and lingering and absolute and it’s everything Buck’s ever wanted. Buck repeats, “always.” and it’s not even enough to pestle the truth into the hardwood under his boots that he hates wearing inside. Today is a day for lamentable exceptions.

The engine splutters awake, and the sound buries itself in his mind. It’s just like Maddie’s CDs, creeping through the walls of his room the year she left, as Buck was unearthing a gift card for a bookshop that closed a year ago and from then on every time he heard their cheery, rapidfire openings he recalled the moment he checked the date and it hit him. Sound is an excellent cue for the drop in your heart and a stamp on moments engraved in your mind to resurface. Eddie checks his blind spot, and Buck just thinks, again, sudden, always. Always. The rain is a fine mist and it’s sweeping over his face in whispers. He knows he will remember this always.

Things Buck thinks about as the car rolls down the asphalt until he’s merely a speck in its rearview: Home has a way of finding you again. Los Angeles is at approximately 118 degrees longitude. Some day, he’s going to hold Eddie again and he won’t even have to wonder if it could be the last time it’s a familiar gesture.

————���————

COOL! thank u for reading this far means soo much to meeee ayayayayayy. i spent a long time combing through google to make sure the longitude part was accurate and i think it mostly is but in case u are reading this as a longitude expert and i am #Wrong just pretend i didn't say anything or said the right thing Or that most likely buck buckley would have taken a similar route through the internet as i did and thus come to about the same conclusion as me. Coollllll.

ok first lmk if i should post this to ao3 im kind of on the fence about it. second this was originally structured to be a multi chapter so again lmk if anyone would be interested in That. or not lmao. awesome! title from something by julien baker (a banger). stating for the record this was written before official bts came but they were a catalyst to dig this out of my damn google docs. OKKKK thanks again bye<3

[nalgenewhore]

act of affection

elide x lorcan, modern au, they r smitten kittens, NSWF (18+) word count: 3246

He’s there, in the doorway of her bedroom, with an opaque plastic bag, the sharp edges of a take-out box almost ripping the weak material.

The girl turns in her chair and smiles, one foot wedged on the cushion so she can rest her hand on her knee. “Hey.”

“Whassup, baby?” His slow voice slides over her like syrup, familiar in a way that’s healing while it singes her skin with the echo of his fingers. “You doin good?”

“Mm-hmm,” Elide leans her chin on her knee as she grins dopily at him. “Aelin’s dyeing her hair.”

Lorcan’s eyes skip to her phone, propped on her desk and the wall. He nods a bit. “Dope. Same colour?”

“I got pink this time,” Aelin cuts in with a gleam to her electric eyes. She snaps the edge of her plastic glove as he gets close enough to see the barrette situation she’s rigged to section off parts of her hair and the dye saturating the edge of her hairline. 

“Ay, that’s kinda sick, ‘lin.”

“Right?!” 

The pink haired girl turns back to the mirror, and he focusses on Elide. Lorcan’s thumb finds her cheek, following the rounded curve before pinching it. He bends down for a chaste peck (uncharacteristic, but he hates an audience) and asks again, “You good?”

She stretches a bit to chase his kiss, wanting to seal her mouth to his. “Mm-hmm, I had a nap.” Much like what he’d been doing when she called him, voice weak and watery, after what he’s pretty sure should be considered for her worst shift of all time. He can’t understand how people are so rude to service staff.

Lorcan approves. “D’ya eat anything?”

“Yeah, Emrys felt bad and gave me an extra staff meal.”

“What’d you get?”

They answer at the same time, lips brushing lips. “Pesto pasta.”

It makes her laugh, the synchronicity, makes her break away as her head tips. He’s watching her fondly, standing to his full height. “Alright, I mean, at least you got something,” he chuckles. “But I picked you up some food, s’way better.” He sets the bag down on her desk in front of her. “Indonesian fried rice, extra shrimp.”

“Extra spicy?”

“Baby, c’mon, you already know,” he clicks his tongue. “Whatchu take me for?”

Elide melts. “I’m getting used to being spoiled, y’know.” She’s already reaching for it, fingers digging into the knotted handles to undo them. In a second, she’ll give up and rip the bag open. 

“You should get used to it,” Lorcan replies, casual yet with a mark of arrogant surety that she finds so attractive. His next kiss lands on the corner of her mouth, like he can’t keep himself from touching her (he can’t). “Imma go smoke.”

“‘kay,” she sighs. He turns, and Elide reaches out, her bony fingers catching in his belt loop. Raising his arm, he looks back at her, and she realises he already has a joint tucked behind his ear. “Don’t take too long.”

He grins, reaching back to unhook himself from her. “Wouldn’t dream of it, sweet girl.” 

When he drops her hand, her fingertips are cold. Cheeks rouging, she watches him walk away, tracing his broad shoulders, slouched, beneath a sage and light grey speckled sweater, his faded jeans baggy. 

As she slowly rolls back to Aelin, she wonders idly if he’s dressed that way on purpose after she told him she liked that sweater and when he wears his pants that way (it’s nothing he wouldn’t wear; her soft heart still hopes it’s a little bit because of her).

Her friend is staring at her, and Elide blushes. “What?”

“You’re too cute,” Aelin answers. “He’s so, like,” she makes a face, like she can’t find the word.

“So what?”

“Smitten. Like, the way he looks at you, and how you look at him, too,” she elaborates. “You’re so into each other.” She massages more pink into her roots, glancing past her phone into the mirror. “He cares about you, like, a lot. And I like that.”

Elide shakes her head. Her cheeks are burning (is it because of how obvious she’s realising they are, or because it feels good that her friend likes her boyfriend?). “Yeah,” she says softly. “I like that too.”

“Oh my god,” Aelin fakes a groan of annoyance. “Go get him already, what’re you doing watching me dye my hair?”

“Ok, ok!” Laughing, Elide sits up. “Hey, thanks for calling me. Work was so gross.”

Her friend stills, eyes flashing back to the screen. “Me and your boy are going to find those creeps and teach ‘em a lesson.” 

“Does Lorcan know that?”

“Not yet, but he’d so be down.”

Elide knows that Aelin is right. “Yeah…” she hasn’t told him what happened to make her shift so horrible, kept it vague saying she had a difficult customer. He’ll be pissed, if she tells him about how the table of men leered at her, their girlfriends sitting by meek and resigned, and she doesn’t want a pissed Lorcan tonight (or ever; he shuts down, shuts her out, because he doesn’t like being angry around her). “Ok, I’m gonna go. Talk later, yeah?”

“Yeah, girl. Love ya!” The call ends before Elide can echo the sentiment, which is just like Aelin.

She decides to text her friend instead. Then, she slides her phone onto her desk and gets to her feet. On her way to the door, she catches her reflection in the mirror. 

Her fussing gaze makes her fix her tank top, tugging the tight and buttery-soft material down a bit (she ignores her flushing cheeks as she remembers what prompted her to dig this top out of her dresser). 

Elide slips into the hallway and pads to her balcony. “Lor?”

He glances at her, the filter of his blunt tucked between his lips. “Hey.” Earthy smoke curls from his lips. 

She smiles with a shy glance to the side. “Hi.”

That lopsided grin, her favourite, pulls on his mouth. “What’re you actin all shy for?” He snakes his arm around her waist, wanting her closer, always closer.

“I dunno,” she lies, embarrassment staining her cheeks. Lifting her hand, she rubs the soft knitting of his sweater. “You make me, like, nervous. It’s weird.”

“Mm, you make me nervous,” he answers. “Got me changing my outfit hella times before I see you.”

The nerves slip away like a wave leaving the shore, a cocky smile taking its place that matches the cocky tilt of her head. “Yeah, I noticed the sweater. Did you wear it because of me?”

Lorcan ducks his gaze. Blush always looks strange on his cheekbones, seemingly too carved and proud for something so soft as raspberry red. It’s what her cheeks are made for, and he loves that. “Shit, bro, you forreal gotta call me out for what?” She thinks it’s funny, the way he talks to her, so familiar, so improper and wrong, every loose word falling from his mouth. It’s charming, like how the way he wears pants so baggy they sag off his hips is charming.

She laughs and pulls the joint from him, bringing it to her own lips. Just as she’s taking a hit, plump skin hollowing beneath sharp bones, he fingers the stretchy cotton blend of her tank top. “On my ass ‘bout my sweater, but I never seen you wear tank tops ‘till I said-”

“Stop!” Her hand curls over his mouth, eyes round and blinking.

He pushes it away, ignoring her as he smirks, “I say one thing about wanting to fuck the shit outta you if I seen you in a tank top, an’ look at you now, ‘lide.”

The way she looks at him changes, and the heaviness of her eyelids has little to do with the baby hit she had. “Shi… you tryna smash, shawty?”

Lorcan gapes at her for a second before unchained laughter explodes from him. It’s her put-on voice, sliding down several octaves, his borrowed words that sound so unnatural coming from her heart-shaped mouth. “On god, shawty? After you’re fed, yeah,” he snickers.

“Better not be talking shit, on god, I’ll fuck you up,” she threatens, still playing in his tone.

“Oh my days, shut up.” He bends to let her hold the smouldering joint for him. He’s in her space at this height, so it takes one shift of his head to press his lips to her, inhaling into her.

Elide readily takes the smoke, and they trade shotgun kisses till not even the roach is left, just the filter. She’s tugging on him, impatient, barely letting him toss it into the repurposed plant pot.

Lorcan cups the back of her neck, bringing her up for a real kiss. She’s eager for it, her hands framing his jaw, sliding through the soft hair of his trimmed beard. Like their lips, their feet get tangled; she’s falling, almost but not because he’s there. His hands envelop her hips (they fit him so well) and give her little squeezes as he walks her back to her bedroom. “I want you-”

“You do?”

“Always; don’t be askin dumb shit,” he mutters. “But, you gotta eat first.”

She slides away with some reluctance, though she knows he’s right. “Wanna watch a show?”

“Yeah, baby.”

Elide rubs her palm over his cheek, their voices quieter now as if there’s people listening, even when there’s not. “You’re so good to me,” she whispers. 

“‘s’all ‘m tryna be.” All he wants to be- hers. His nose bumps her cheek. “What’re we watchin, pretty girl?”

“Ted Lasso.”

He laughs- should’ve expected that. “All you wanna watch is Ted Lasso, there’s not even new episodes.”

“I don’t even care, I’m watching it all over again,” Elide sniffs. “You’re my biggest hater.”

“Nah, never. Just teasin’.”

✵✵✵✵✵

It’s later, when the food is finished and they’ve smoked again, which is why they’re lying down now. 

He’s rubbing her back with his knuckles, his other hand holding her thigh where it’s hitched on his hip.

Abruptly, Elide closes her laptop and puts it on the floor. Her hand catches his cheek just as he goes to turn away, pulling him to her lips. It’s soft, it’s plush, it makes his head spin. Lorcan’s almost dizzied, definitely stupefied, as he sinks into her mattress; her hands fall down his neck.

He kisses her back, teeth finding her bottom lip to bite and suck. Lorcan moves his hands to her waist to pull her over him.

It’s easy (familiar) to straddle him, and she lets out a soft breath when he licks the bitten flesh of her lip. “See why I like my leg there?”

“Yeah, I like it there too.”

Elide leans on him and savours his shaking exhale when she kisses down his neck. Her hands, cold fingers and all, push his shirt up. “Off.” She helps him most of the way until he has to work it over his shoulders.

They part when he pulls it over his head, and there’s a pout on her lips at the momentary pause. Lorcan laughs at her, kissing her sweetly. “Greedy.”

It’s sweet until she slicks her tongue over his and grinds on him. He kisses her back, and her skin is warm when he puts his hand on her thigh. Pushing down on it, Lorcan makes her go on, pushing their pelvises together. His other hand goes up her torso to cup one of her breasts. “Take this off,” he tells her, about the tank top.

She actually sits up, her hands spread over his chest. He’s breathing hard while he stares up at her tilted head. “Are you going to make me, Lor?”

He chokes before huffing out a laugh. “Swear you act so different when I let you be on top.”

“I get why you like it up here,” Elide rolls her hips over him. His hand grips her side. “It’s more powerful.”

“Enjoy it, my girl, ‘cause I’m so close to flippin you,” Lorcan says casually, and she shakes her head with a look in her eye that says she might not mind it at all. “Don’t be pissy later.”

She bends down, like she’s going to bring her lips back to him, but it’s only for a tease as her soft hand cups the bulge in his boxers.

“You’re killin me,” he whispers.

“Don’t move,” she whispers back, her hand taking out his cock. He shudders at the soft touch tracing the tip.

“El,” he moans out, “stop, stop playin with me.”

“Shh,” she presses against his mouth with her hand now slowly twisting around him.

Lorcan tugs at her striped cotton boyshorts, and Elide mutely realises he wants her now just as bad as she wants him. She balances on one knee as he helps her yank them off. After, she sits on him, breaking another noise from him at the feel of her, soaked and silken. He looks at her with lidded eyes. “Can’t really tell if I want that off,” his voice is gruff. The black makes a stunning contrast against her milky skin, and her body looks so lush the way her tits stretch the material. She’s unbelievable.

Her sweet little grin is somehow in tune with the way she pumps him. A hitch in his throat makes her lips find his neck.

He grabs her nape to kiss her properly and grabs the wrist of the hand around him.

“Get on me before I flip you, mean it,” he murmurs before slipping his tongue past her lips.

Elide nods, bracing one hand on his sternum as she notches the head of his cock in her. It’s with an aching slowness that she slides down on him. He groans at the feeling as he fights the urge to slam her down.

There’s a flush to her chest when she’s finally taken all of him.

Lorcan draws her down and thrusts into her, his rough breath echoing in her ear. 

“Fuck-” he lets out when she moves her hips against him. 

She shudders at the feeling then, feels him twitch inside her and pants out. “Lor…”

“Sorry, ‘m flipping,” he whispers and does it before she has the wherewithal to tell him not to, and by that point, she’s laid out beneath him and he’s brought her leg over his shoulder.

Elide cries; he watches how she takes each deep, hard thrust. Lorcan welcomes the sharp sting of her nails digging into his back. His head leans on her shoulder while he keeps giving it to her. “Not- fair,” she gasps, her pupils blown. Her other leg wraps around his waist.

He says sorry by sucking on the inside of her knee. After a few more thrusts, the headboard slams into her wall and rattles anything that’s hanging on her wall. Elide’s small moans keep growing.

Turning his head, his eyes are heavy on hers. “You wanna cum?” His voice tightens under the squeeze of her.

She nods, bites out, “Need to.”

Lorcan falters once, fucking into her hard. It’s almost too much. He almost loses his mind when she pushes her hips into it. “Too much?”

Elide’s lips part. “Want more.”

He goes into her without any pace, chasing the orgasm that builds for them both. 

Soon, their breathing is the only thing he can hear. Her moans are sharper as she arches her back. Through it, Elide’s eyes catch on his, and she’s cumming on him. 

“Talk to me,” he says, his mouth agape watching her finish. 

It’s surprising that she can talk to him, yet her voice is wrenched from her lips. “Fuck- you’re so good for me, feels so good,” she cries out. “Cum in me, give it to me, oh.”

He doesn’t need much more than that to let go and bites her thigh to prevent a moan from erupting when it happens.

Lorcan is slower now, gentle rocking into her. He flinches at the wince she makes when he drops her leg, lets it fall to his hip. “You hurting?”

“No,” Elide swallows and brings a soft peck against his lower lip. “Never.”

“And you’re bein honest-“

“Always, with you.”

He still kisses her in apology as he pulls out; for a moment, he watches his cum drip from her. When Lorcan’s sated gaze meets hers, Elide pinkens and looks away. Softly, he presses his lips to her cheek before his heavy body drops beside her, on his back. 

After a few silent minutes, their minds coming back to themselves, here’s a cocky smirk on his lips as he drawls, “You pissed ‘cause I flipped your ass, huh.”

She’s pouting at him, but her hands are tugging at him closer and closer so it undermines her projected upset. “I never get a turn,” Elide mumbles, still spacey from his dick. “I thought you’d think I was pretty on top.”

A small laugh escapes him; Lorcan cranes his head to nip at her jaw. “Looked real fuckin pretty all laid out for me too,” he promises. “Looked too good on top, I had to fill you.”

Elide squirms away from his words, her cheeks flushing hot - he can feel it how their skin sticks together like the way your thighs stick to plastic chairs in the summer sun. “Oh my god,” she gasps. “That’s- oh my god.”

“Nah,” he laughs lowly, “you’re playing li’l miss innocent now, after actin all tough and shit.”

“I am tough.”

“Toughest gal around,” he confirms. “‘specially when you’re begging me to cum inside ya.” His voice stretches to a high key as he croons her words back to her, “‘oh, please, you’re so good for me, cum with me, I need it’-”

“Oh my god, shut the fuck up,” she yelps, her hands pushing his jaw shut. “You’re literally the worst ever, that’s, like-” Elide swallows, cheeks burning, “that’s so not cool, man, I don’t even sound like that!”

He finds her mouth to lay a small kiss against it. Then her arms hook around his neck, and she gives him kisses that linger, making him sink into her, one forearm notionally balancing his weight off of her, but there’s no real space between them; it’s like they’re a part of each other on an atomic level.

She tilts her head to the side to press her lips to the corner of his. “Shower with me?”

“Yeah,” he hums, but he tucks his face into her neck. She moves to sit up, her body pressing into his. Before she can, he slides his hand around her wrist and keeps her down. “Chill, woman. Can’t I just lay with you?”

Strands of his hair move when she exhales with force. “No, I can tell you’re going to fall asleep, and you got cum all over me.”

Elide can hear the joke in Lorcan’s voice when he replies, “You told me to give it to ya.”

“Because,” she clicks her tongue, “I knew you’d cum if I said it. Now get off.”

Lorcan sighs (dramatic) and rolls over, lifting his arm to rest his forearm across his brow. “Annoying the fuck outta me,” he mutters. “Put it down good, and you’re still bothered.”

“Hmm, maybe you should’ve let me try on top,” she quips before crawling over him.

“Ah, you’re never lettin that shit go.”

“I mean… you could make it up to me.”

“You got ideas?”

“A few.”

✵✵✵✵✵

an: i have a couple other ideas that would b interconnected with this one, so might turn into a little series. (btw i am trying a new writing style (tbh idk if its actually much different than my normal style) so if it sucks tell me pretty pls) idk if anyones seen street dreams but the argument that ends in "pull up your goddamn pants ya loser" kinda inspired this vision of lorcan. (ALSO STREAM 'C U GIRL' BY STEVE LACEY HUGE INSPO FOR THIS TOO)

tag list: @sassyhobbits @empress-ofbloodshed @celestialams @the-regal-warrior @icecream52 @elentiyawhitethorn @goddess-aelin @julemmaes (lmk if u want to be added/removed<3)

[naffeclipse]

Ok, finally I can sit down and write this!! XD

Ahhh, what a chapter! Lots of new info, a new routine is starting to set in, and we had a bit of a surprise there at the end!!

So first off, we have that slow testing of the waters that is now a little more hopeful and I love it! So much of this chapter had me smiling widely and made my heart melt at so many points!

Like, first of all how the hunter teases the boys for "showing off" hehe! And it got me thinking! Because it never quite occurred to me how much they must have been holding back physically! Obviously they were careful not to exhibit any obviously demonic features, but the fact is that they never really went beyond what an animatronic their size should have been capable of. Always kept at a speed that seemed possible for their form when y/n was paying attention. never did anything that seemed far out of their reach. And when those things must have been so easy if they could have just done it, I bet it got at least a bit tiring hiding what comes naturally for them. It must be so freeing to be able to truly be themselves now! And of course, if they get the chance to show off a little in order to impress their heart haha!

And Oh. My gosh. The moment when Moon was startled by the crossbow! It caught my attention because aside from losing y/n (physically or metaphorically), the boys have not really shown fear. They themselves admit it's not something they tend to feel. They're always on the lookout and not easily taken by surprise, but they could have encountered at least a couple hunters before the one in the cornfield. They know what happens during an exorcism so there must be some instinctual fear when it comes to a hunter's weapons. But even more than that, I wonder if this is similar to y/n's fear of them growing bored and deciding to kill them in the future. But the boys may have imagined worse scenarios in which the hunter decides they actually are a danger and decides to take them by surprise, an attack when they least expect it. Even if they don't truly believe something like that will happen (and they could likely tell because of the heartbeat), the thoughts might have lingered and the sound of the unhooked crossbow put them on edge. (And in some way, that does confirm to y/n that they do consider them a strong person. They have seen them slay other cryptids, after all. So just what would it look like if the hunter, unhindered by the panic and the trauma that came from a demonic encountered, decided to play the long game to hunt them)

But then! Then when y/n realizes what exactly is happening they use the same words that Eclipse used to calm them!! And God if that isn’t such a neat little reversal of the dynamic so far. A promise that despite being someone that could hurt them the must, they will not. And it’s also a way to show the boys they accept their earlier reassurances. Trust is barely building, but Eclipse has repeated “You are safe” as basically a plea. To give them a chance. To beg y/n not to reject them. To try and not to be the source of their distress. And now the hunter is sincerely using those words back. As an apology and a promise. As reassurance. It’s like a direct response to the times the boys said it and I love it so much! 

And ooooo we get a conversation about the doppelgänger! Oh I can just imagine now, what their point of view must have been a couple of chapters ago. Before the reveal, the cryptid’s words were just an inconceivable (at least when in denial) lie and its dying scream just a way to hurt and mock them. But then it turned into a reality. How close the expression it mimicked must have looked to reality. The brief chase through the gully an eternity as every hope they had of this working out fine seemed to be disintegrating. And even when the worst had passed, the next whole day they just had no certainty that they would be allowed to stay at all. None of them are happy that the doppelgänger was right about how the reveal would go, but as y/n affirms, that was then and now is now. At the very least, it’s yet another way in which the hunter can see Sun and Moon’s more complex being.

(sidenote: Moon then not even shifting when y/n handles the holy water!! He believes them! They’re safe and the water in the in their heart’s hands presents no more danger to them than the unloaded crossbow! That’s just giving me so many feelings! ;w; )

Oh ho! We also get some more info about the sacred rules! I have some theories about Paahlott but at this point they’re pretty vague for what we know XD I have to wonder how she was able to summon them and why they all agreed to the sacred rules. Maybe their views were all already aligned with what she proposed, since other demons like Shoh seem to hold no fondness for the innocence of children. The defenders of the sacred rules at least seem to rather enjoy and care for the little ones on their own accord, rather than just protecting them with indifference! Lots to think about! Oh and also, it’s so sweet how the boys talk about their family and how they are already considering who would love y/n immediately. It’s such a needed pinch of domesticity sprinkled over the wild last couple of days!

I am also so here for the reflections the hunter makes as they see their true form once again! Knowing that there is good to be witnessed among cryptids, but also knowing that means the sadism is so much worse from those that chose it. Because now it’s not a belief that cryptids are merely mindless and driven by instinct like animals. Some might be, but demons certainly aren’t. So it gives much more significance to both acts of kindness and malice.

And ooooooh that vow and the saltshaker comes up again! In the very next sense in fact! I’m just trying to think of what possible scenarios the hunter might find themselves in to consider breaking the vow. Maybe during an attack the only way to protect themselves would be a salt circle. Maybe, there would be no likely way to perform an exorcism without affecting the boys so y/n keeps them at bay and tries to do it themselves so that they can save Vanessa without risk of losing the boys, even if it places the hunter at great risk themselves. Hmmmm!

And DFKGHSKLÑ the almost kiss though!! Boys please! XD I know they are very eager but gotta slow down a bit there kjdhgfjh And it’s a bit funny but it makes a lot of sense y/n isn’t ready yet, because, even with all the demonic cryptid situation, they have very literally spent a lot of time alone before they met the boys. I bet they didn’t really try for a serious relationship after the incident of their past, and with the animatronic friend it probably didn’t cross their mind as a possibility so far (maybe it would have eventually, but it wasn’t happening soon XD) Now everything is out in the open, Sun and Moon basically confessed to them right after the reveal and the realization that they already have been living together and know and care for each other so much is hitting them in the face all of a sudden! It’s familiar but new, just like everything about the situation, so I can’t blame them for panicking a little haha! Like, that’s a whole kiss!

But aaaahhh then it leads to such a show of trust! ;o; Eclipse says “You are scared” and so the hunter does what absolutely shows that’s not the case. This is the heart eating demon. The one that caused them nightmares after they saw him destroying the rake and consuming its heart. And they show them. They might not realize it, just meaning to get them to listen more closely and tell them that it’s excitement, not fear, but it’s still very much placing all the sharp bits of this demon so close to them. The sharp grin right up to their chest. And knowing fully that they will not be harmed. The boys will not try to rip their heart out. They are allowed close. Closer than anyone else. Because the hunter wants and trusts them to be.

But ough then the pain of knowing what happened to Henry! ;O; He thought he was dealing with Bonnie! No doubt the others had spoken about him! So there must not be actual info about him in the book. I wonder if it was written before the cornfield demon found him. Or if maybe in the book there is research that could be helpful, although it could be misleading if it was lying all along. And oof, of course, that would bring back some doubts. The fate of Henry’s daughter was decided because he trusted the wrong demon. Who’s to say another couldn’t do the same? And ah, it aches but it’s actually a good instinct for y/n to keep it in mind. They are deciding to trust, but not blindly. They already did that and it brought a lot of pain, even if it also brought a lot of good. Now they are considering all the evidence, which tells them the boys are sincere, but they won’t let themselves fall into denial. That’s something their heart probably couldn’t take if they ended up being wrong after all.

And then we continue with Vanessa! Oh these GPS marks have me so intrigued. Is she asking for help and the demon interfering? Is the demon setting a trap? What in the world does it mean! Hmmmm. Aaaah, I’m so worried about her! Not only is she suffering a lot, but what Eclipse said about exorcisms doesn’t bode well for her. As a hunter she must have a lot of strength and will to live, but it must be very tough to remain strong after the sheer amount of time she has been possessed. She must be incredibly tired D: Hhhhhhh knowing how Deep Dreams ends reassures me a little but oooough I can’t help but think it would be just as likely a scenario that she doesn’t make it. And how sad it would be. For y/n, who has been fretting over her, having to do what they must to vanish the demon, but in doing so sealing their friend’s fate. AAAAA the suspense!

But that’s just something you are great at, Naff! You always keep us on our toes! X3

And talking about keeping us on our toes! Oh I just knew those three strangers were not just gonna be passingly mentioned but I didn’t expect FEI to suddenly decide they were actually gonna do something about this! I have so many questions about this organization. Surely, if they are affiliated to the Pizzaplex and knew of both the demon and the vessel (maybe even the makers of the vessel), then it wouldn’t have taken so long to confirm right? The hunters certainly knew what to look for. So why? Were they using y/n as a test for the boys? Were they expecting the demon to kill them and when that didn’t happen they sent someone to take care of it? Just what is their deal?

And oh my gosh when I say that as soon as the female hunter started talking I immediately thought of Cafaro XD And then I gasped and pointed at her name when it came up gñklfjhsgñhj Like hello! Glad to see you! Time to get punched again! Okay bye! You are so lucky that in this life y/n is not a vigilante ready to stab your heart, but a very kind, life-treasuring soul! (Though they do both have a knife when fighting her which is a fun coincidence XD)

(side note (wow only 2 sidenotes this comment kdfhjg) : also very interested in that seal! I know y/n threw it to the ground, but maybe if they find out what it is, it could be used to force the demon into a vessel different then Vanessa, if they can lure it out! Then use that to exorcize it!)

Ok, ok, last thing I wanted to comment on was Singh! Aaahhh it was a bit bittersweet hearing him talk. The fact that he was so genuine about it. He so desperately wanted to save y/n and was trying to be reassuring. Like, he doesn’t blame them from the start. And even if he doesn’t listen, he pays attention. He notices the hand on y/n’s shoulder and assumes it means they are not free to speak. But also he does not miss the way in which Sun is protective of them, although he doesn’t stop to consider it as the others keep pressing the matter. Then when he is holding the hunter, he keeps trying to tell them that they don’t have to be scared anymore! Because they might be resisting out of the fear of retaliation from the demon! Or just because they’re confused because of the possession! And then, when he’s the only one conscious, and he sees them getting away he pleads with the demon! To just let them go and not hurt them. That they don’t have to do this! And wow, of course that would resonate with y/n. We hear similar words in the vampire episode. The hunter wanted to free someone else from their perceived suffering. Pleading to let them help. Help them stop them from hurting others. It’s pure kindness. If it was hatred or fear he might have let them just go without bringing attention to himself and risk the demon’s wrath. But he chose what he had as a last attempt of what he thought was the right thing to do.

And then, when there is no reason for the cryptid to pretend, he hears them ask their question. And he doesn’t know the meaning of it. This is another reality that will accompany the hunter if they let Eclipse stay. Allowing this means losing their source of income (even if they are already well off), and the organization that facilitates their job. What they have been all this time will become 10 times harder. So the boys ask again if they are sure. And y/n does not hesitate. And Singh’s world has been tilted. He might soon deny what he heard as a trick, but the doubt has probably been planted! He’ll be left to think about it all. Three hunters faced off against a demon and though the demon won, none of them are dead after all. 

I… got a lot of feelings for this side character that reminds us slightly of the hunter huh? kfdjhglskdjfg

But well, that’s all I have for now! Awesome chapter like always, Naff! I am so, so excited for what comes next and I just know it’s gonna have me clutching my heart! <3

Chaotik, I've been rereading this over and over and I'm not normal about your thoughts at all aldsfjalsdfasfd

Oh yeah, the boys get to behave more like themselves now that Y/N knows! It's a weight off of their shoulders and one less stress to worry about. Also, Y/N likes it!

"So just what would it look like if the hunter, unhindered by the panic and the trauma that came from a demonic encountered, decided to play the long game to hunt them)" <<< The boys have seen Y/N slay cryptids, monsters, and it would break their non-existent heart to see Y/N with that set look, committed to the hunt, focused on them.

AHH YESSS! I'm so happy you took note of how much that means to the boys to hear Y/N say "You're safe." It's such a fundamental moment because, yeah, that's exactly what the boys said to them, but now, it's from them. They mean it. It's true. They're all safe!!!

The doppelganger was a ghost haunting Eclipse for all that time, but now that the worst has passed and Y/N affirms that it might have gotten one little detail right, it never told them about this. About things being okay. And they are okay ♥

Oh ho, I'm glad you like Paahlott and the little lore drops! You're right that the demonic cryptids who agreed to the sacred rules already held affection for little ones. It was for their kindness that Paahlott summoned them. Likewise, Eclipse always had a tender spot for children, and the sacred rules were a simple thing to bind themselves to.

Yes, some cryptids have sentient were others are more mindless/animal-like, but demonic cryptids are a special case, and noting that they can choose good and evil (relatively for cryptids) is another blow for Y/N and their past trauma. The cornfield demon really is a special kind of cruel, but to balance that out, there's Eclipse, who's a very special kind of caring.

I am eyeing your theories on the vow and saltshaker so hard rn hehehe

Ahahah, yup, this is very new for Y/N, and sudden. There's a reason Y/N was pretty obvious to a robot kissing their injuries better. Y/N wanted to show their own love and trust and very real, reciprocated feelings. Y/N is feeling a lot, but it's not fear for their dear friend.

"That’s something their heart probably couldn’t take if they ended up being wrong after all." <<< Keep that in your back pocket for later :)

Ahhhh, thank you, babe! I know I've been teasing Vanessa for so long now, but we're gonna see her soon. Real soon.

About F.E.I.—They knew Y/N was traveling with a demonic cryptid for a long time. Another thing about F.E.I. is that they don't tell their employees everything. That's why the three hunters were so concerned/angry about Y/N.

Ahahha, I love your reaction to Cafaro! She's a fan-favorite (very punchable alsdjflasdf)

Oh ho, that's the last time that seal appears hehe

Ah, babe, I'm so happy you like Singh! He was really important to write for this scene. A lot of cryptid hunters are in Y/N's same boat of experiencing cryptid-related trauma, and most do it for good reasons, even Cafaro and Rowe despite their rough demeanor in that situation. They're people. Good people. Singh was truly concerned for Y/N and to hear that maybe Y/N isn't in danger after all, around a demonic cryptid, changed everything.

There are going to be consequences with F.E.I., unfortunately, but Y/N has chosen Eclipse.

Ahhh, thank you, babe! I always look forward to your comments! They bring me so much joy! ♥

[commanderbragh]

DWC 2023 Day 3: Stepping Up (Unresolved)

Banagan ducked and covered his head as waves of heat washed over him. Before it passed, he could hear screams coming from nearby. Raising his head, he quickly scanned around and saw two men on the ground with smoke curling off pieces of their armor. He ran to their side and dropped to the ground. Putting his hands on both men, he closed his eyes and concentrated. Light flared around his hands and then passed into the two prone fighters. Almost immediately their cries subsided to quiet whimpers and they stopped writhing on the ground.

Banny opened his eyes and looked around again. He could see the field medics rushing to his position, so he stood up and unhooked his mace from his belt. Nearby, he saw his Drakthyr friend Skold shooting his own fire back at the druids, causing them to scatter and run.

“Chase them down!” someone called out. It only took a moment for Banny to trace the call to the mercenary that had been dressed down so publicly only a few hours earlier.

“Fel,” Banny muttered to himself as he started chasing after the four soldiers who were, in turn, chasing after the fleeing druids.

“What is it?” Skold asked as he glided to Banny’s side.

“If we don’t get there in time? A bloodbath.”

“Whose?”

“Does it matter?”

It was a running battle as the Druids of the Flame continued to send volleys at the humans who gave chase. In return, one of the soldiers cast bolts of lightning back at the retreating elves. Electricity sparked between the druids, catching one just as he was casting of his own spell. The druid’s body jerk involuntarily and his hand dropped towards the ground just as he had released the casting. A ball of flame shot down in the midst of the running druids and exploded, sending them flying into the air. 

The humans cheered as they rushed forward. The first three bodies they encountered were charred and did not move. Banny watched as the one mercenary prodded the first body with his boot and got no response. One of the other soldiers called out “Hey, this one is still alive!”

The group looked to see there was one druid rolling on the ground. She had been furtherest ahead when the explosion went off and, as such, had only been partially hit and thrown forward. The humans walked up to the druid as a faint moan escaped her.

“What should we do?” the soldier who had first noticed her asked.

“Kill her,” the mercenary responded with a dark grin.

“No.” Banagan’s quiet demeanor and calm response washed over the other soldiers, visibly cooling the bloodlust that had them running just moments earlier. Everyone, except the mercenary.

“We kill them all.”

“We were told to bring them back alive if we could,” Banagan replied simply.

“They’ll never know,” the mercenary sneered.

“I’ll know.”

“I don’t care,” the mercenary said, raising his sword and taking a step forward.

Banagan moved quickly, stepping in between the mercenary and the injured druid. “I will.”

“So what?” the mercenary spat out, moving closer to the paladin.

“We are taking her in alive. Anyone who has a problem with that has to get by me.”

“And me,” Skold added as he stepped to Banagan’s side and flexed his wings.

“Fine,” the mercenary growled. “Take her if she means that much to you.” He then turned and stalked off. The rest, unsure what to do, turned and followed their friend back towards the rest of the troop. Once they were out of earshot, Skold looked down at his friend.

“Are you sure that was the wise thing to do?”

“Wise? Probably not. But like people say ‘If you can’t do the wise thing, at least do the right thing.’ “ 

“Who says that?”

“I don’t know. Probably my dad, or Drogar, or Shadowbreaker. It seems like the kind of thing that they would say.”

“You grew up with some very interesting people,” Skold said with a shrug. Then he turned to look the soldiers who were making their way back to the main host. “Do you think they will let this go?”

“Nope. Not even a little bit. I’ve seen plenty like them, too.”

“Then how will you handle this? You will have to work with them again, I suspect.”

“It all depends. I’ll try buying them a drink next time we’re back in Valdrakken and see if that clears up the angry feelings.”

“And if it doesn’t? If the matter stays unresolved, what then?”

“Then I guess it’s a good thing that I have a friend watching my back,” Banagan looked up at the Drakthyr and smiled. “Let’s get this elf back to the command tent. I don’t want to be out here in the open if any of her friends come looking.”

“Agreed,” Skold responded.

@daily-writing-challenge

[neonvandalsxcb]

• 𝐎𝐥𝐝 𝐅𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐑𝐞𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐝

CONTENT WARNING. This contains a very long, written storyline with mild language, vandalism, verbal arguments, suggestiveness, tension build, and progression of the “Neon Vandals.” All that is written is for fictional and entertainment purposes that do not portray the idols used.

The car swerved, stopping in front of the four in its vicious crimson that flashed at them with the doors presented to them. Parking as the engines puffed heatedly, the driver’s door opened, causing the four to scramble on their feet.

“Sorry,” A deep voice hummed, a blonde, freckled male stepped out of the roaring vehicle. His blue eyes gazed over at the group with a twinkle of mischief as the police were in disarray. “They were on my tracks, but, I guess they thought yours were more fun than mine~” He mused, his lollipop clinking against his teeth as he spoke.

“It’s a shame we had to reunite this way. But, hey everyone~” He pulled out the lollipop from his mouth, licking his lips with a wide cat-like grin. “Let’s get out of here and we can meet up with the rest? There’s so much we need to discuss.”

. . .

Exiting the car, Jisung winced as Seungmin held him upright, arm wrapped around his back as their eyes wandered over the familiar grounds riddled with their art. Hundreds of paintings were splattered on the walls, alleyways empty and forgotten to the public as they slipped under the arch that presented paved stairs down.

“It’s nice that you all haven’t changed this place.” Felix hummed.

Led by the blonde vandal, they entered into the dark tunnel that opened to a large, hidden studio with inner balconies. Tapestries and clothes hung from them, revealing colorful pieces of sewed and stitched work. Studio lights were placed randomly, illuminating the room in a warm, dusty orange.

“Who would have thought that that’s the only thing you’d leave untouched.” He glanced at the four, Seungmin grimacing at him while Jaemin rubbed his arms in discomfort.

Stained glasses of work were strung about, twirling slowly and caressing the room in their tinted colors. Along the walls of brick and stone, artwork covered them in vibrant colors, an exceptional few intricate pieces while others were experimental. Lastly, newspapers were scattered, various desks, chairs, and miscellaneous objects clustered in different areas, and music filled the space.

“We’ve been over this, Felix.” Jaemin responded, receiving a glare from Jisung. But he ignored the foul expression on the younger’s face, eyeing the blond who scoffed. “And you still haven’t given an explanation to what you did for that chase.”

Stepping into the room the vandals claimed as their treasured cave, broken off from society, the group acknowledged that other men lingered in the darker corners of the room where the light attempted to reach. All that were quick to notice their presence, shifting and turning their attention to them expectantly. Seven pairs of peering eyes fixated on them, all that they recognized.

“You could say it was my idea.”

Unhooking his arm from Seungmin’s shoulder, Jisung’s eyes followed to see a raven haired male.

The light hit against his frame, causing a white glow around him as his fox-like eyes returned to scan the magazine he held. But he stood tall, skin pale as his expression was sharp and cold, lacking warmth and friendliness to the gathered group.

“Jeongin.. This catastrophe was your idea?” Seungmin scowled, anxiously pulling at the sleeves of his jacket while his hand throbbed. The younger simply tilted his head, brow raised while his expression remained stiff and cold.

“Think of it as Felix hyung’s wondrous return to Korea.” He responded calmly. But his eyes flickered mischievously, remaining trained on the newly arrived group. “A surprise for everyone here. Doesn’t that sound fun?”

Seungmin scoffed as Mark rubbed his face in exasperation at their reckless scheme. “You think it’s funny having a whole unit chase after one man?”

The youngest shot Seungmin a deadpan expression, eyes squinting with bitterness on the edges. “That’s rich coming from you, ‘hyung’.” He grumbled, throwing the magazine onto a wooden crate. “Who has some ugly pride calling them ‘imbeciles’ when you hide that disgusting face of yours?”

“You think you’re better?” Seungmin’s eyes narrowed sharply on him, growling quietly.

“At least we aren’t cowards,” Jeongin grinned smugly, gesturing to the vandals that gathered. But a hand connected at the back of his head, him hissing in pain.

“Behave yourselves.” Adorned in a black sweater of splattered white, shimmering with silver accessories and jeans ripped, the male was shorter than most. But he looked distant as the group remembered, dark and vacant eyes narrowed on them. “Not even 10 minutes we’re all here that you’re already tearing at each other.” He rolled his eyes.

“Renjun.” Mark blinked in surprise, the group gawking as the silver haired male jumped onto the crate, legs crossed as he stared with pursed lips. “You came?”

“I didn’t have a choice.” Renjun sighed, resting his chin onto his propped hand, eyes shifting to an individual whose hair was as white as snow, his gaze piercing. His features are bold and sharp, brown eyes lingering on them with a cracked smile.

“Jeno insisted we come here when Hyunjin freaked out on me in a damn call.”

“Jeno, you called everyone here?” Jaemin asked, brows softly knitted as the mentioned male nodded.

“I would’ve called you to bring them, but..” Jeno tilted his head, lips thinned into a pressed line as his dark eyes observed their disheveled appearance. “well, Felix beat me to it in the worse fashion possible.”

“Not intentionally!” Felix exclaimed, turning to look at the four with that wide, cat-like grin that lacked apology. “I didn’t know you’d all be out. I mean..” His eyes flickered to Jaemin, the brunette’s frown deepening. “It’s not like Jaemin’s the most reliable in information.” He mocked.

“Yeah. I’m starting to remember that myself.” Jisung grumbled, causing Jaemin at look to him with a dark and solemn gaze. “So. Who here wants to let me in on what’s this whole mess, huh?” He questioned, causing the vandals to grow silent.

His eyes fiercely bore into the remaining vandals that shrunk, only to spot Hyunjin nestled in the back with Eric awkwardly, eyes weakly focused on Felix with remorse.

“We deserve an explanation.” Jisung growled, gesturing to Hyunjin who perked up, his eyes partially wide as he ducked his head, shuffling forward to join the group properly. “You can’t expect us to be fucking peachy when we got lied to.”

“What Jaemin did was for us.” Looking up, the group saw the oldest vandal, Kevin, peer down at them from the balcony. He leaned against the fencing, frowning with his eyes softened. “He had all of our interests in mind, and he tried to get help for Felix where it was more reliable than here.” Kevin defended.

“Wow! You think sending Felix back to Australia against his will was a ‘big brainer’?” Jeongin huffed with exasperation, running his calloused hands through his hair. “Real smart, guys.”

“This was arranged in advance, and Felix got several warnings about it.” Jeno argued, leaning against a desk while a bark of laughter left from Felix.

“So what if I did?” Felix crossed his arms, his icy gaze locking with Jaemin’s with cold hatred for the brunette. “What we didn’t agree on doing was that devious play I had to perform.”

He then sneered at Jaemin, gesturing to Jisung and Hyunjin, his eyes darkening in their piercing hue. “Was that fair to make me lie to them? Hm, Jaemin?~ How helpful was it?” Felix inquired sharply. Jaemin struggled, mouth opening to emit nothing but a noise of disproval.

“We never meant for you to push them away like that.” Mark groaned softly, massaging the temple of his forehead as Hyunjin and Jisung’s narrowed gazes fell on him bitterly. “I didn’t even agree for that to be orchestrated.”

“But you let it happen.” Felix hissed, hands curling into fists at his side while Renjun shifted uncomfortably. “Let us all make a fool of ourselves just to get me out of your hairs.” He spat.

“We weren’t trying to get rid of you.” Jaemin sighed weakly, fiddling with the necklace he wore with a frown. “It was a mistake to have you all hurt like that. But it had to be done.”

“That?” Jisung scoffed, hands waving as he exclaimed angrily. “Having Yongbok insist that we were unwanted vermins was acceptable?!” Hyunjin gently grabbed his forearm, muttering for him to relax. But Jisung’s lips curled into a snarl.

“We didn’t put on the agenda for Felix to do that. That was his fault.” Seungmin argued, only to flinch back as Felix growled at him, pushing him back with a press of his finger against his chest.

“But you insisted that I made it believable for them to piss off from me.”

“Yeah! Which, great plan to make him break Hyunjin’s heart.” Jisung grinned scarcastically, nodding mockingly. “Yeah, look what that did to him for almost a year!” Jaemin winced, twisting the necklace guiltily. “And then you had the audacity to help me recover when you basically had Yongbok wish I was dead!”

“I- I didn’t insist for him to say that kind of thing to you!” Jaemin’s eyes went wide, tone wavering at his accusation. “I told him to end things as convincingly as possible!”

“The extent of that was making me think of dropping dead that day!” Jisung yelled, only to wince and clench at his chest.

“Easy there, Sunshine.” Felix said, reaching forward and rubbing his shoulder reassuringly. Jisung frowned, eyes glossing as the blonde squeezed, offering a comforting smile that he hadn’t seen for so long.

He then went quiet as Felix hesitantly patted Hyunjin’s arm, the two sharing an exchange of something solemn before he looked at the group. His expression shifting bitterly to them.

“With all that’s been said in front of this little jury of ours, what now?” Felix inquired, wickedly grinning to them as he tilted his head. “More than half the people here are guilty, and your little ‘fix it’ plan has gone to shambles.” He said, addressing it crudely that the group shifted awkwardly. “What’s the grand plan, or so wise vandals?~” He mocked.

“Clearly, not to let Jaemin make the big decisions alone.” Renjun groaned, pushing himself off the crate as he shoved his hands into his pockets. “And that we still have a lot to cover about this fucking drama.”

“What?” Jaemin blinked, stunned as another male stepped forward, them glaring down at Jaemin with a grimace.

“I’m with Renjun on this. As much as you “helped” some of us be more sensible, this is some sick soap opera.” Sunwoo stated bluntly, walking past him to eye Felix skeptically, shrugging as he went to leave. “I’m done for the night. But I say, no more hiding that freak and any more secrets.”

“Couldn’t agree more.” Jeongin nodded firmly, shrugging with a little laugh as he took long, leizured strides to stand beside Felix with a dark glimmer in his eyes. “I think it’s only fair that your selfishness should be made up by giving back what’s rightfully his.”

“You can’t be serious.” Jaemin’s jaw nearly slacked open, guffawing in disbelief as he looked over the remaining vandals that looked at him with mixture of sympathy, regret, and anger.

“Dead serious.” Felix laughed, standing in front of Jaemin. While he couldn’t look over him, his dark shadow ensnared Jaemin’s, casting over him a dreadful darkness while he smiled wickedly.

“We’re all taking back what was ours.”

[moisette]

I forgot how tiring it is to play Killer... As I've said - I'm a Killer main that's been playing Survivor only for like the past 6-7 months. Killer has always been way more stressful to me and I don't really care that much about winning. I try to manipulate my MMR by killing and sparing and killing and sparing but if Survivors were cute/chill - I will be chill too. I love Survivors that are cute and make me laugh so I don't try to kill them.

I feel so fucking tired. I don't think I used my knives once in my last match. That's really fucking weird of me... I mean they would have slowed me down because of main building and walls but I didn't even try xD; I also kept fucking up mindgames by getting stuck. After I closed the game - I felt so fucking drained... I was on auto-pilot...

As Survivor it's like "I'll just do this gen 8u" "I'll go for the unhook u8" "I'll take chase 8u" "Yay we did it, guys 8D" " Just take the 3 out uX" As Killer it's like "I'M WASTING MY TIME HERE!!" "WHERE THE FUCK ARE THEY HIDING!?" "THEY DID /THAT/ GEN!? I'M FUCKED!!" Like overall, I don't care about winning. I like a challenge but I don't need to win every match to be happy. I want my 8 hooks. I want to have fun chases. I don't want to patrol gens. I don't want to bring gen defense.

I've had matches where I took it seriously and had a Survivor doing a meme build and/or just chilling. I was no nonsense and they gave up. That makes me feel bad. They're not taking it seriously and I don't want to take it seriously but I do... I hate that. I fucking hate that.

Play your little lute for me. Do your little Plot Twist in chase. Do whatever silly thing you want. I'll try to acknowledge it.