#EVERYONE SHUT UP HES GOT HIS PRETTY TIME SHARD

[ryukatters]

9:18 PM — s. geto ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊

content: fluff, friends to lovers, sort of self-ship coded, reader dates (shitty) men

pairing: suguru geto x gn! reader

a/n: got suguru on da brain rn. my first work for him! hello geto nation how we doin?? also i had to fight my autocorrect bc it kept changing geto to ghetto 😔

“Surely, you must lack respect for yourself.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me," your best friend scoffs. 

It's not uncommon for you to end up at Suguru's doorstep, teary-eyed and sputtering after another failed attempt at romance. But he's hardly ever this mean. 

"What's so great about these guys? Tell me."

"They're...nice."

He sighs out your name in exasperation. He never uses that tone on you, ever. "You're literally miles out of their league. And they can't even afford to pay for both of your meals. How many times have you had to pick up the check for you and your date?”

You open your mouth to retort but wisely keep it shut. Suguru merely raises an eyebrow. 

"Exactly. How can someone be ugly and broke? Then still have the audacity to reject you? Pick a struggle."

"Well excuse me, mister 'I don't need dating apps because everyone just comes to me.' Not everyone is as fortunate as you are when it comes to romantic prospects." 

You're starting to question why you even came here in the first place. Indignation fills you as you slump down on Geto's couch, utterly defeated. 

He sits down next to you, placing a gentle hand on your knee with an even gentler look in his eyes. Your best friend's always been so kind, so thoughtful. That, paired with the fact that he's pretty easy on the eyes makes it easy to understand why he has suitors flocking from left and right. 

"Hey," he calls out, giving your knee a light squeeze. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

"'s fine."

"No, it's not. It was insensitive of me.”

You know what else isn't fine? Geto wants to ask. The fact that you don't know what kind of guy you deserve. He wills himself to keep quiet, for both of your sakes. 

"Maybe the universe is trying to tell you something. That you have some karmic lessons you need to learn and all that. You say that all the time."

"I don't know. Maybe...maybe love just isn't in the cards for me, Suguru. I mean, what else could all of this mean?" 

You sniffle, and Suguru can feel his heart break into a million little pieces. He wants nothing more than to scoop up the shards and present them to you, in hopes that you can somehow press them back together to make it whole again. The same way you always come running back to him, the same way you trust him to mend your own heart time after time with gentle praise and reassurance. 

"Maybe every heartbreak is just bringing you closer to 'the one,’" he offers, the hand that was previously on your knee now rubbing comforting circles on your back.

"Do you honestly believe in that shit, Suguru?" He doesn't blame you for being so cynical. He would be too, he thinks. 

"I do," he professes without missing a single beat. 

"How?" Not why, but how? How could he possibly understand? How would he know if fate's thrown his so-called one and only his way?

"Because I've felt it," he hums. 

“You… have?” You’re not sure why you feel so disappointed all of a sudden. Why should you care if your best friend’s in love with someone?

“Why do you feel the need to look so far for love?” He counters.

“I…”

“Why don’t you try looking at what’s right in front of you for a change?”

That’s about as far as Suguru’s willing to lay it out for you— he hopes you can read in between the lines. Call it insurance— a way for him to spare his own feelings in case you decide he’s unworthy of your affection and toss him to the side of the road.

“Suguru, I’m not sure I understand what you’re trying to say…”

Yes, you do. Suguru wants to say. Just think a little harder. 

There’s a pregnant pause.

When he realizes that you’re unwilling to take another step forward, he figures he needs to just take the leap. Fuck the insurance. He needs to do as he says and prove to you that the trail of heartbreak behind you is all going to be worth it. Because you have him. Suguru can only hope that his love will be more than enough to heal you from a lifetime's worth of pain. 

“Give me a chance,” he whispers, his hands enveloping yours as he brings them up to his lips, pressing a sweet kiss to your knuckles. “Please. I’ll show you how you deserve to be treated, how you deserve to be loved.”

You gasp, unsure how to receive such a confession— especially one from Suguru, nonetheless. The two of you stay frozen for what seems like an eternity. You— afraid, inexperienced with being on the receiving end of anything remotely romantic. Suguru— tense, confession lying heavy in the room. It weighs down his soul with each passing moment he’s not yours. 

“Please,” he pleads, feeling the way your hands tremble in his. Or was it the other way around?

Fear begins to gnaw at Suguru’s insides, thoughts of losing you plaguing his mind as he wills himself to stay calm. He wants nothing more than to shrink into himself— until he hears you speak, tone light and teasing.

“Promise you won’t make me pay for our dinner on our first date?”

Suguru allows himself to let out a genuine chuckle, leaning forward to kiss your forehead.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

[stone-stars]

in which murph has a very normal time at the hands of his players

Transcript:

Murph: Wel-come back to Bahumia everybody! [Jake, Emily, and Caldwell echo him with "Bahumia!". Caldwell sounds incredibly enthusiastic.] Murph: He's so excited! Caldwell Tanner, thanks for being here. Caldwell: Ye-ah! Murph: It's not your turn yet, dude! Caldwell: I'm so sorry sir! Murph: Okay? I'm your Dungeon Master Brian Murphy, joined by Jake Hurwitz-- Caldwell: Bahumia! Jake: [laughs] Hey! Dude! Murph: Caldwell! Caldwell: Sorry! Emily: [laughs] Bahumia! Bahumia! Jake: I'm trying to rhyme, man! Murph: Quit stepping on him with your enthusiasm! Caldwell: I'm just so ready to go! Emily: Bahumia! Jake: I worked really hard on this. I di-- [sighs] well forget it. Fuckin' forget it. Murph: No you gotta! Emily: Bahumia! [Overlapping crosstalk as Caldwell and Murph encourage Jake.] Caldwell: You've got this. Murph: You got this. Jake, go ahead, don't let these two enthusiasms get in your way, alright? Jake: Yeah. Alright, no, yeah. I got this. I got this. Yeah. Caldwell: Whoo! He's got this! Jake: Fighting alongside-- Caldwell: You've got this man! Do it! Murph: Stop! You have to stop! Jake: I know I got it! I'm doin' it! (Calder voice) Fighting alongside a frog and a bard with my brand new sword, Shard. [Emily and Caldwell laugh.] Murph: Yeah! Pretty good. I do feel like we built it up though, at a certain point. And there was just-- there was no way you could fully deliver. Jake: Yeah. It would've been perfect if I got it out clean right up top as soon as you introed. Murph: Yeah, if we did a super low energy intro. [Jake: M-hm. Yeah.] Caldwell: I think it was great man, I think it was amazing, I can't wait to hear it again! Murph: Who is this person. And then of course we've got Emily Axford-- Emily: Bahumia! [Everyone laughs. The others continue laughing harder as Murph talks.] Murph: Ohh. Okay?? That's the name of the world. Her character's name is Calliope Petrichor. If for some reason episode 57 of campaign 3 is the first thing you've listened to. That's Emily Axford. (laughing) She plays Calliope Petrichor. She did say before we started, I think almost as a counter-bit to Emily's bit, before we started (laughing) Emily said "I'm not gonna do a rhyme I don't feel like it." And I said "wild energy to bring into the episode!" so Caldwell went the opposite and went overenthusiastic. They're just fucking with me! Everything we do is just an inside joke to make me upset. Caldwell: And now you're caught up! Murph: Yeah, and now we're caught up. Caldwell: Bahumia! Murph: And-- [laughs] and Bahumia. And-- Uh, and then of course we've got Caldwell Tanner-- Jake: (yelling) Bahumia! Emily: Yeah!!! Jake's in on it!! Caldwell: See, it feels good! It feels good. Murph: Okay. Caldwell Tanner, of course, plays Sol-- Caldwell: Ohhh, Sol Bufo [Murph: Okay.] I'm feeling fine, just found out I'm two of a kind, [Emily: ooh!] and now I'm gonna go and find out if Swag's still alive. I'm really trying to thrive here. Bahumia. [The others laugh. As they talk, Caldwell laughs too.] Murph: You lost me. But you had me for a moment. And that's more that can be said for the other guys. Jake: Wow. Emily: Bahumia. Murph: [laughs] Bahumia. Jake: Bahumia, guys. Murph: Sure. Hey guys, Bahumia. We did it. We did it everyone. Alright? Everyone settle. Settle? Okay?

[The others sigh as if relaxing, and chorus "yeah."] Murph: Ready? Alright. Let's do-- let's do-- Caldwell: Eldermourne. Murph: Not the right campaign. Not the correct campaign. Caldwell: Shit, sorry. Murph: Let's go ahead and do a little-- [laughs as Emily interrupts him] recap-- Emily: That's Calliope's middle name. [Everyone laughing.] Murph: (through laughter) Shut. The fuck up. Everyone. Alright. [Pause as everyone continues to laugh.] Jake: S-- sorry. Murph: So last time, you left Calder's home to pursue Gowan to the Ice Knife, but received a call from Albin along the way-- [laughs] Shut up, dude. Jake: Bahumia. Bahumia. [Everyone laughs.] Murph: This is precious information! Jake: Bahumia! Emily: Bahumia! Bahumia. Caldwell: (exaggerated) Bahumia! Murph: Yeah, okay. You guys are like pokemon now? [The others laugh.] Okay. Alright. Worst bit ever. Okay. [Jake: Bahumia] You recieved a message from Albin--

Murph: -- You were greeted by a ghostly message in the ice that said Friends… Murph and Emily: Betray! Emily: I remember! Murph: You remember. Good job, Em. Jake: Holy shit. She's back. Murph: You get a sticker. Emily: I wrote it in my notebook. Murph: Very good! [Emily: Yeah, yeah, yeah.] That almost makes up to your behavior for the first three minutes of the show [The others laugh.]

Murph: And that's where we are now. Caldwell: Alright! All my real betrayal heads get ready! Emily: Yeah! Caldwell: This is where it starts! Murph: [laughs] Shut up. All of you. [Everyone laughs.] Caldwell: (through laughter) I can't. I have to talk for another hour at least. I'm so sorry. Murph: It's all good. Alright. So--

Murph: Sweet, well we'll talk more about this over on our Patreon. That's patreon.com/naddpod that's N-A-D-D-P-O-D-don't sing yet-- [Emily and Jake start to sing "We"] Caldwell: Bahumia! Murph: Yeah, remember that. [laughs] D-- Do you guys remember that? Uh-- Emily: Bahumia! Caldwell: What are you talking about, man? Murph: Bahumia! Does anyone else have anything they'd like to plug? Emily: Bahumia! Murph: Bahumia, yeah. Jake: Oh, yeah, I would love to plug Bahumia. Murph: Yeah. Check it out. Campaign 1, campaign 3. Caldwell: The world. Emily: Oh! [Murph: uh-huh] Uh, actually can I plug Bahumia? Murph: Great. Really good job, guys. Awesome. Caldwell: It's an incredible world. Incredible place. [Murph: yep!] Check out all of the incredible environs there. Murph: Yeah. Check it out. Uh- You can follow us on, uh-- Emily: Bahumia. Murph: You can follow us on social media that we may or may not use. @ chmurph's me, @ caldy's Caldwell, @ eaxford's Emily-- [Emily: @ bahumia] -- @ jakehurwitz is Jake-- Jake: I'm actually-- I'm actually @ bahumia. Murph: Follow our campaigns on Bahumia-- Emily: I'm also @ bahumia. Murph: I don't think you are. And you can tweet about the show using #naddpod that's N-A-D-D-P-O-D. [They sing "We are, We are" as the audio fades out, but Caldwell and Jake replace the words with "Bahumia"]

[xjaylyn]

PART 5 - Bad Boys: Second Chances

Pairing: Armando x Black! OC (Rya)

Warnings: blood, graphic, guns, death, mature, language (use of the n word), and some other stuff I probably forgot about sorry

Summary: It's been two years since Captain Conrad was framed. Another mission brings the team back together and new relationships are formed. It's said everyone deserves second chances and room to grow. So maybe this is that second chance

A/N: Further down in the story, there are some graphic descriptions that will be warned with red text before you read. In the scene, there could be some triggering words and situations that may be sensitive to a reader, so read at your own risk, please. I don't want anyone to get triggered. This scene will be written in italics. It's not necessary to read for you to understand the story, so you can skip it if you want, but it does provide a deeper look into Rya's past that was mentioned in the previous part. Part 6 will be out tonightt!

(Armando photo creds to @yeahnohoneybye they be having all the good photos bless them😩🙌🏽)

...AMMO HEADQUARTERS...

"Alright, I organized all the files in the drive so we can understand everything when we look over it," Dorn huffs, sitting back in his chair.

After infiltrating the lab, the team headed back to the station to plan their next move. Sitting on the couch in the middle of the room, Rya picked at the little glass shards stuck in her still-cuffed hands. Feeling someone sit next to her, she looks up to see Kelly holding a first aid kit.

"I brought you the first aid kit... there's some tweezers and wound spray... thought you might need it," she says, setting the kit on the coffee table in front of them. Mumbling a small thanks, Rya picks up the kit for the tweezers. Noticing Kelly still there, she looks back up and raises a brow at the girl still staring at her.

"So... an assassin? Umm, that's pretty cool, almost lik—" Kelly starts to ramble before she realizes the deadpan look on Rya's face. Shutting her mouth, she stands up.

"Yeah, sorry, I'll just... leave you be," she nods, walking off back to the others.

Blinking down to her hands, Rya picks up the tweezers, gently taking out the small shards stuck in her skin.

"Ok, so for the really fancy restaurant you have to be on this list to get in, but I was able to work my magic and get Rya on there with no problem. So, we're on for tomorrow. It should be a smooth mission," Kelly says, smiling up at the team.

"Thanks, Kelly... well, I'm calling it a night. It's getting pretty late, make sure you all get some sleep. We got a busy day tomorrow," Rita says, waving at everyone before walking out the door.

"Yeah, it is getting late. We'll see you all in the morning," Kelly says, packing her things, Dorn right behind her doing the same.

"Oh, before I forget, Rya, if you ever need a therapist, I can give you my counselor's number. She's amazing; I really recommend it," Dorn says with a small smile towards Rya. She squints her eyes at him.

"Dorn... just... goodnight... let's leave the therapy talk for another time," Marcus says, waving him off.

"I'm just saying, therapy has helped me with a lot," Dorn says, with his hands up before leaving with Kelly patting his shoulder.

Mike gets up from his desk and walks over to Rya. "Alright kid, I can take these cuffs off since they ain't stopping nothing anyway," he says, grabbing her wrist to unlock the cuffs.

Rubbing her wrist, she can see a purple indent had formed from the cuffs cutting off her circulation. "Thanks," she mumbles.

"You can sleep here tonight. We have a pillow and blanket in that closet over there," Marcus says, picking up his car keys and pointing to a back corner.

"Yeah, we still have to tell our wives about a possible guest staying with us, so for tonight, you just have to stay here. Everything will be locked up, but you have the common room to use. We'll see where you'll be staying at tomorrow. You'll be good on your own?" Mike asks, looking down at the girl.

"Yeah, I'll be fine. I want to look over some stuff anyway," she says, getting up and walking towards the computers.

Saying their goodnights, Rya watched as the pair walked out the door, locking it behind them before waving one final time. Rya pulls up a chair and looks through the different files on the computer.

After an hour of clicking through a couple of photos and documents, she lands on an old photo of her family. She'd never seen the picture before... completely different from the image of them she has buried in the back of her mind, all smiling, naive to the tragedy awaiting them in the future... one she doesn't want to remember. Staring at it for a few minutes, she suddenly feels a pair of eyes on her.

Already knowing who it is, she leans back in the chair and turns her head. "We have a problem?" she asks sternly, raising her brow towards Armando standing by the double doors.

"I don't trust you," he says simply.

"That's fine... I don't quite trust you either," Rya says, crossing her arms, now turning the chair completely towards him.

Walking down the steps, "I recognize you... I couldn't figure it out before, but now I do," he states, stopping to lean on the middle table, looking down at the girl in front of him. "You almost killed my mother a few years ago."

Staring at him for a little bit, she tilts her head. "Your mother is Isabel Aretas, right?" she says more as a statement than a question, already knowing the answer.

"Well... seems like someone got to her before me, so," she shrugs, turning her chair back to the computer screen. Noticing he was still quiet, she looked back to see him glaring at her, clenching his jaw. "No offense."

Armando shakes his head before sitting in the chair next to the table. "I don't believe you completely went rogue... if what you say is true about him controlling you, then you still have some loyalty left in you," he says, crossing his arms.

"You're right... but couldn't the same be said for you? Some loyalty should be left to the cartel, you know... since they raised you," she says, raising a brow.

"The only person that raised me is my mother... I don't owe loyalty to anyone anymore."

"Your mother kept and trained you to do her dirty work, there's a difference," she deadpans the man in front of her. Ready for the conversation to end, she couldn't care less about his opinion because it wasn't his help that she needed; he was just there.

Noticing his expression change for a split second, she can tell the statement caught him off guard, but he quickly recovered. Armando gets up from the chair and walks towards the door. "You got one time to fuck up," he says, looking back at her. "I won't hesitate to utilize what my mother trained me to do."

Hearing the door shut, Rya stares at the spot Armando once filled. Feeling her eyes get heavy, she sighs and makes her way towards the closet in the back corner to grab a blanket and pillow.

Walking back to the couch, she passes the computer screen that still displayed the old family photo. Stopping for a second, she closes out the tab and makes her way to the couch. Laying down, she stared at the ceiling until her eyes closed.

---------------------------------------------------------

*WARNING: GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS, NOT FOR WEAK STOMACHS, TRIGGERING SCENES AND WORDS COULD BE MENTIONED*

"Please... please... no more... please."

Strained pleas sounded from the man on the blood-stained floor. Another sound of ripped flesh and cracked bones could be heard, causing the man to cringe, close his eyes, and weep.

"Open your eyes," the uniformed man demanded before kneeling down next to the man, gripping a chunk of his hair, forcing his head up to watch the scene in front of him. His dead wife's body, covered entirely in blood, had open wounds all over her body as the suited man above her continued to mutilate her.

The man stands up, towering over her lifeless form, fixing his suit. Bloodied hands push his hair back from his face.

"What did I tell you would happen, huh?" the man huffs, staring down at the man.

"You thought you could betray me? And get away with it?" The man slowly walks to the man's beaten form.

"Kill me... please... don't do this to them... I betrayed you. I betrayed you... I BETRAYED YOU KILL ME DAMMIT," he begs, glaring back at the man.

"Oh... I was planning on that whether you asked me to or not," the man chuckled.

The grunts of the man flowed through the young girl's ears watching from the side. Both stared at the scene in front of them. One stood with dried-up tears and swollen red eyes, hiccups coming from her body every few seconds. Numbness flowed through her body. Slowly shifting her eyes from the scene in front of her, she looks at her younger sister sobbing in the uniformed man's arms. His gloved hand roughly covered her mouth to silence her, but it remained ineffective as you could still hear her strained screams.

She could feel her tears stream down her face, scared for what's to come. She could feel her body shaking, forcing the man holding her to tighten his grip to keep her still, causing a sob to form out of her body.

"Daddy, I'm scared," she cried for the bloodied man on the floor. She looks as her father's eyes meet hers. Her hero... the strongest man she knows... weak and scared on the floor. His lifeless eyes stared at her. All hope for her gone. She feels her body get tugged out of the room, her sister's screams flood her mind.

"Do as I say... and you and your sister will be free," the voice sounds through her mind.

She feels the heat of his rough hands caress her face, burning her cheek.

"Do as I say... and you and your sister will be free!"

*END WARNING*

Jumping up out of her sleep, Rya gasps while holding her chest to catch her breath. She can feel how damp her shirt is and her hair sticking to her forehead. Sweat covered her body. Feeling like her body is on fire, she hurries to push the covers off her completely, sitting up on the small couch.

Looking around, she realizes she is still at the station. Feeling her body relax, sitting there for a second, her hands grip the ends of the couch. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.

'Jesus Christ.'

She opens her eyes after a while. Furrowing her brows, she brings her hands up to her cheek. Looking down at her fingers, she notices a wet substance on them: tears.

Shaking her head, she gets up and makes her way to the water machine to pour herself a cup of water.

It’s been a long time since she has had that nightmare. It used to occur every night that first month, but then it suddenly stopped. The last image of her parents was something she buried deep in the back of her mind. That photo must have brought it to the surface. Looking up at the clock to see what time it is, the time reads 3:40 in the morning.

Looking back at the couch, she decides to make her way over to the computers to read over the files again. Not wanting to risk having that nightmare again. She couldn’t go back to that stage in her life... she refused.

---------------------------------------------------------

Hearing the doors open, Rya's tired eyes looks up from the computer screen, watching Marcus make his way into the room.

"Good morning. You look like shit... didn’t we tell you to get some sleep?" he said, placing his plate on his desk, taking off his jacket, and looking over at the girl hunched over in the chair.

Rolling her eyes, she leans back in the chair, dropping her legs to the floor to stretch a little bit. "I got caught up," she yawned.

"Uh-huh... caught up in an apocalypse. How are you supposed to work your lady magic at the restaurant when you look like a walker from The Walking Dead?"

"Hey, leave her alone, Marcus. She does not look that bad," Kelly says, walking in. "Besides, that couch is not the most comfortable, so I can’t blame her for not getting any sleep." She looks over at Rya, mouthing, "Ignore him."

Shaking her head, Rya looks back at the screen in front of her, ignoring the comment from Marcus.

"DAMN, did you get in a fight last night while we were gone?" Mike says, walking into the room with Armando next to him, dropping his stuff in his seat. She can hear Marcus laughing behind her.

The sound of whistling can be heard as Dorn walks into the room. Saying good morning to everyone, he stops in his tracks when he sees Rya. "Heyyy Rya... rough night?"

Dropping her hand on the desk, she looks up from the screen with a huff. "Y’all got one more time to comment on my appearance," she says, fed up.

"Woah, don’t bite, walker. I don’t want the smoke," Marcus jokes, smiling with his hands up. He and Mike snicker at each other. "That was good."

"Alright, enough. Let’s get serious. We have a lot to do." Rita sighs, standing in front of everyone, causing them to change their focus to their boss.

"Today, Rya is going to get information from Sergio’s two best dealers. Dorn, I need you to make sure all of your drones are up and running. Kelly, make sure Rya’s necklace has audio and footage. Mike and Marcus, I need you two to make sure all areas are secure and that we have a safe exit for Rya in case she needs to escape. Armando, we need you for backup in case anything goes wrong, so be ready. Does everyone remember the plan?" She asks, looking at the team, all nodding their heads.

"Good... Rya... make sure to freshen up. We need you to look the part for this to work." She smirks, watching as the woman rolls her eyes before making her way to the locker rooms.

"Dammit, I left the dress for Rya to wear at my place, and I still have to fix her necklace," Kelly huffs, throwing her bag down.

"It’s okay, Kells. Armando can take Rya to get it when she’s out of the shower," Mike says, leaning back in his chair.

"I never said that," Armando huffs from the couch.

"Didn’t have to. Look, you two got to get along or at least tolerate each other so we can all work together," Mike says, looking over at his son.

The two stare at each other for a bit until Armando lets up and nods his head. "She has one chance."

---------------------------------------------------------

'Well, this is great.'

Sitting in the front seat, Rya glanced over at Armando gripping the steering wheel, focused on the road. It’s only been 10 minutes of them together, and the ride was already intense. Taking a breath, Rya looked back out of the window, watching the buildings go by.

"I never tried to kill your mother," she starts. She can feel his eyes look at her for a second.

"You shot at her and missed, killing the person behind her," he said, staring back at her.

She scoffed at that before shaking her head. "That’s because I was aiming for the person behind her... trust me, if I wanted to kill her, I wouldn’t have missed... I never miss," she says, looking at Armando.

The two stare at each other for a second without saying anything. Realizing how long they were holding their stares, Rya lifts a brow at the man. "The road still exists, you know? I would watch it if you don’t want to get us killed." Breaking the eye contact, she looks back out the window.

"If I wanted to kill you, it would’ve been done by now and not in a car accident," he says focusing back on the road in front of him.

"Yeah, but I would’ve had to be on your mommy’s hit list for that to happen, huh?" She rolls her eyes.

Pulling over the car, Armando parks to take off his seatbelt and look at the girl in the passenger seat.

"I told you you had one chance. Bring up my mother again, and I will end all this shit."

Raising both brows, Rya looks over to Armando. "Nigga, I will have yo ass sent back to the fucking cartel in a body bag. You ain’t ending shit," she crosses her arms, looking at the man in front of her like he was crazy.

Huffing before closing his eyes, he sits back in the seat before calmly speaking, "Rya... go inside and grab the dress."

Looking past his form, she notices that they were in front of Kelly’s house. Squinting her eyes back to Armando, she unbuckles her seatbelt to get out.

"I’m going because I have to, not because you told me to."

"Ry-"

Before he could finish whatever he was going to say, she stepped out of the car and purposely slammed the car door. After a few minutes, Armando looks back up to see her walking back to the car bag in hand.

"Got the dress. Let's go," she said, not making eye contact with him.

Armando nodded and started the car, pulling away from the curb. The rest of the drive back to the station was quiet. When they arrived, Rya got out of the car without a word and headed straight into the station with Armando following behind.

"Well damn, what happened between you two?" Marcus asked, feeling the tension between the two as they walked in. Both of them ignored him and went their own ways.

"I ain't want to know anyway... damn," Marcus said, sitting back down. Looking over at his partner, he pointed back at where the two had been standing.

"Those two need some therapy, and I mean real-ass trauma-dumping therapy."

"Marcus, shut up," Mike said, shaking his head

Tag list: (lmk if you want to be added)

@blackgirlmagicforever @believeinthefireflies95 @wizewhispers @omg-mymelaninisbeautiful @sarcasticbitchsblog @maybepersuasivetom @d4rno @honggihwa @literallegendicon @ninacutebee16 @hannie-squirrel00 @themainacc @stressedmess-21

[tinycheesecakedetective]

*Addendum: Fading Letters AU pt. 2: White Lily

I'm a FOOL.

Apparently I've lost all sense of time because I've been gone for a YEAR AND FIVE MONTHS. What the heck. Right. My rendition of Swap!Lily, everyone. It would've been out sooner, but I cannot draw backgrounds for the life of me. This had me stumped for a good long while until I just decided "fuck it we ball", and here we are now. I'm just glad it's out so I don't have to worry about her anymore.

Now unlike PV, I thought White Lily didn't need any updates to her look in the AU. I thought she was pretty set and done, but I reserve the right to change my mind in the future. Her design is pretty simple; it's the blind healer outfit but more so tailored to White Lily. Her staff is bound shut, she's cloaked and wearing rags, and most notably, her eyes aren't visible. She's hiding her identity out of shame, in search of something precious to her.

~~~

Quick Rundown: White Lily is stuck in Beast Yeast after falling ill, so Pure Vanilla went in her place at her request. (For more information, click https://www.tumblr.com/tinycheesecakedetective/744518672544071680/im-baaaack-i-mean-i-made-one-post-about) .

After PV became this universe's Dark Enchantress, the other half of him was sent to the Fairy Kingdom. Meaning unlike Canon PV, White Lily found out VERY quickly about what happened to him(or what she thinks happened, all she knows is that he's dead), and she takes the news horribly. She immediately blames herself for what happened and ended up grief stricken over the entire thing, so much so that she hallucinates him calling out to her. Elder Faerie tried her best to console her afterwards, and told her it would be possible to bring him back. She swears she'll do everything in her power to bring him back, but the Dark Flour War starts and she has to head back to Crispia. During the fighting, White Lily debates telling the others about what happened to Pure Vanilla, but she doesn't get to when she sees what looks like PV. She thinks it's really him, but then upon closer inspection she realizes something's not right. In reality, the real PV is wreaking havoc across Earthbread as this universe's DE, and no one knows it. The final battle is upon them, and PV has them against the ropes, their soul jams in his grasp. In a last ditch effort, White Lily attacks full force with dark moon magic and is able to stop him. She realizes who he really is, and while she's shocked, WL instead shows determination. She's part of the reason why he is the way he is, but she wants to set things right.

After the war, WL spent some of her time in Beast Yeast in order to understand how to bring back PV. With Elder Faerie's help, she returned to Crispia in search of the soul gem shards. She becomes a nomad, wandering around the world and only stopping for breaks. Along the way, she meets several cookies and makes a new friend. Her journey comes to a halt, however, when a group of travelers also finds one of the shards in their own quest.

~~~

Got all that? Great, here are a few head canons! White Lily's the one that bound her staff shut. From time to time, she visits the Vanilla Kingdom and gives a small tribute to PV. WL also keeps in touch with Elder Faerie through white butterflies he sends, and he gives her advice and motivation. Sometimes she makes small resting areas, and whenever she packs up a lily is there in it's place.

And that's it for now! If you have any questions or suggestions, feel free to ask. Y'all have a good evening!

[euphoricfilter]

hi! 💕

for the drabble game: "it's okay, i couldn't sleep anyway." with yoongi. hurt/comfort, superhero/supervillain au, please! thank you! 💖

you and i:

pairing: supervillain! yoongi x superhero! reader

genre: fluff || the mildest angst || non-idol au || technically enemies to implied lovers?? || superhero/ supervillain au

summary: you commit treason, and there's only one person you'd ever trust with your life

word count: 1.2k

tags/ warnings: mentions of death/ murder, mild angst, sort of flufff?? there isn't really much to tag? i didn't proof read this, that's a warning because i usually read over my stuff 3 times before releasing it

notes: i wrote this in less than an hour as a quick lil gift for everyone <3 so if there's mistakes seriously there isn't!! drabble game is closed, so please don't send a request in!!

drabble masterlist || my full masterlist

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

The moonlight felt almost palpable, that if you were to look down it would spill through your fingers like runny nectar. It cut across your face like shards of fogged up glass, hanging roofs of alleyways flushing you in the partial shadows. 

Any other night you would have stopped to admire her beauty— any other night you’d be locked away in your apartment. Except tonight was a little different, and not the good kind of different. 

You had no time to stop, feet falling forward in rushed steps, because if you stopped now then surely they’d find you. 

You stumble over your own feet, halting at the steel staircase, winding up in a crooked spiral. 

You take a step back, peering both ways over your shoulder from the alley way to make sure no one was close enough to follow you. The soles of your shoes clank against the metal, legs dragging you up two stairs at a time. 

You tilt your head to look up at the moon as you balance on the rooftop’s ledge, one wrong step and you’d sure to stumble to the ground. You doubt it would kill you— only give the people you were running from an advantage over your escape. 

You stop when you find your salvation, knuckles rapping against the wooden door in quick succession. 

You rock on your heels, tongue wetting your bottom lip. 

You lift your fist to knock at the door again, only for it to open. Yoongi’s eyes widen a fraction before his shoulders relax. 

“If you’re here to bring me in, come back in the morning” he waves you off, fingers tightening their hold around the door, moment away from shutting it in your face. 

“Actually—“ you suck in a breath through your teeth, “Actually, that’s not why I’m here. I need help” 

Yoongi peers out of the door, feline eyes squinting, “Come in” he beckons, kicking the door closed behind him. 

“I’m sorry I know it’s late, it’s just—“ you push your palms into the sockets of your eyes, “I didn’t know where else to go” you admit, a soft pink hue dusting your cheeks. 

“It’s okay, I couldn’t sleep anyways” he slinks into the living room, “Got yourself into some trouble?” 

You swallow back the lump in your throat, backs of your eyes stinging ever so slightly as you take a seat opposite him on a chair. 

“We both know I was never the most morally correct person, even in my field of work” you start, “And that a lot of people want me dead” 

Yoongi hums, slouching a little on the couch, “How bad?”

Your foot taps against the floor, leg bouncing, “Pretty bad” though it comes out barely above a whisper. “I’ll leave tomorrow, I just needed some place to stay for the night”

“You’re brave, stepping into the house of an enemy” he starts and a smile teases at the corners of your lips. 

“Barely” your shoulders curl in on themselves, “You’re more of a friendly foe in the grand scheme of things now” 

“You thinking of quitting the union? They were never good for you anyways, always feeding you this richeous bullshit-“ 

“I have no choice but to leave” 

Yoongi sits up at that, “Pardon?”

“If I ever step foot back in that building, I would never leave, and they’d probably display my head somewhere at the gates” 

“What exactly did you do?” 

You blink, bottom lip tucked between your teeth as your mind reels over how much you should share. You knew Yoongi would ask at some point, but you hadn’t exactly expected it to be so soon. 

“Treason”

Yoongi barks out a laugh, “Treason?” 

You nod, “We both know I hated it there” 

“And you hadn’t thought to just leave?” He shakes his head, “They won’t stop until they kill you, you do know that right?” 

“Of course. I know too much” you huff out a laugh, “If I let one little secret slip, then it’s all over for them. Some people would pay millions for this stuff” 

“And you plan to sell it?” Yoongi sits on the edge of the couch now. 

“Not unless I truly need to, I’ve shared enough for now. And the money I got is enough to keep me going for a while” 

You can see the proud glint in Yoongi’s eye, scar cut across his face barely visible in the dim lamp light of his home. 

“That’s bold. Even for me— I wasn’t sure if you had it in you” 

You shake your head, “You had always said, You and I are more similar than we give each other credit for” 

“You never fit in, in that shitty old hero’s union” 

“I had never planned to stay forever” 

“Why did you?” 

Your head tilts slightly, eyes flitting to Yoongi’s mouth and then back up to his eyes, the faintest smile gracing your face as you wander into curious eyes, “That’s a secret” 

You peer around his apartment, barely a home beyond the bare necessities. And you suppose for a man constantly moving to hide from people like yourself—or at least who you used to be, holding onto things would only ever weigh you down. 

“Have you ever thought of travelling? Further than this town, better places” You meet Yoongi’s eyes, wondering if he can see the vulnerability radiating off your body in thick waves. 

“I’ve considered it. Why?” 

Your lungs are flooded with air, “What about—“ you scoot yourself closer to the edge of the couch, “What about us?” 

Yoongi’s eyebrows furrow, “Us?” 

“Yes. I know technically we’re not friends, at least you might not think we are, but, what do you think about the two of us travelling? Together?” 

“Would you like to know the truth?” 

You hesitate to nod, wondering if this is where whatever you and Yoongi have sinks, tugging your heart along with it. And you can ffeel the dread bubbling inside of your chest. 

“I only stayed here, because of you” 

“Then, may I tell you my secret?” 

Yoongi nods. 

“I only stayed at the union because it gave me an excuse to come find you, as the one overseeing your file, it felt like the perfect excuse” 

“And you hadn’t though to ask me if we could just, put our views behind us and be friends?” He asks, a laugh ready to drip off his tongue. 

“First off, our views are very similar. It was extremely difficult to get into the union in the first place with all their morally right shit. Second, I could have sworn you didn’t like me” 

“I never said that!” Yoongi points an accusatory finger at you, “So what’s our plan?” 

Your eyes widen by a fraction, “Was it really that easy?” 

“It’s not like I’m holding onto anything else here except you” he shrugs, “Why, having second thoughts?” 

You shake your head, “No. Quite the opposite actually. I’m incredibly excited” 

“A truce then?” He outstreches his hand for you to shake. 

You gladly take it, “The start of a new team?” 

“Of course” he laughs. 

You push yourself to stand, slinking over towards Yoongi. You bend down, “And maybe something more” you press a kiss to his cheek. 

“Gladly” he cups your cheeks, pulling you down until his lips pillow yours, and you're falling just that little bit faster for him.

☆ as always, feedback is appreciated. and thank you for reading!!

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

the satanic rites of eddie munson (chapter 4)

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

Pairing: Eddie Munson/Cheerleader!Female Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ MDNI)

Read on AO3

Summary:

Eddie was just trying to have a normal Thursday when some band from out of town decides he’d make an excellent virgin sacrifice for their get-famous-quick plan.

Except he’s not a virgin, and the ritual unleashes something much more sinister that lives in him now, hungry for flesh and possessive of you, the pretty cheerleader he’s always been drawn to.

Which means anyone that touches you? Needs to die.

Inspired by the movie Jennifer's Body.

Additional tags: explicit sexual content (no seriously this is filthy 18+), mentions of character death, allusions to SA, stripping, dominant Eddie, dirty talk, pet names, slight degradation, praise kink, overstimulation, begging, mutual masturbation, cunnilingus, multiple orgasms, possessive behavior, mild blood/blood kink. If I’ve missed anything, please let me know.

The guy in the middle starts to read from the tome spread across his hands. His voice shakes, as do his hands, while he butchers what Eddie assumes is Latin. The wind picks up, leaves swirling around their feet and making the fire behind them dance erratically, embers floating up through the low branches.

“Uh, guys,” Eddie says, strugglings against the ropes. “Can’t we talk about this? I really don’t think I’m the kind of sacrifice that you want.”

“Shut the fuck up, man, you’re throwing off Mike’s spell casting. He’s got dyslexia, he needs to concentrate,” the leader snaps.

“Thanks, man,” Mike chimes before resuming his chanting. The ground rumbles beneath him, the leaves shaking with the moving earth and Eddie starts to think that maybe these guys aren’t just weirdos that are full of shit.

The leader flashes Eddie a menacing smile.

“Show time.”

It only took a few hours for Jason’s body to be discovered.

The party had been in full swing when a sheriff’s deputy swung by to bust it and send everyone home. In the scramble, several people tried to run off into the woods and one unlucky bastard tripped over the mangled remains.

You’d fallen asleep in Eddie’s bed by the time he finished in the bathroom. He let you sleep for a couple hours, his body pressed to yours and his arm wound tight around your waist as he listened to your quiet breathing. Around 2 a.m. you’d stirred awake, all soft smiles and cute little sleepy noises until you’d caught a glimpse of the alarm clock on Eddie’s nightstand and jumped from the bed in a panic.

As Eddie drove you and your mom’s bike home, a trio of police cars with their sirens on blew past the van, heading in the opposite direction. You’d twisted in your seat to watch them fly by, missing the way Eddie’s knuckles went white as he gripped the steering wheel.

“Hope everything’s okay,” you’d said distractedly.

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Eddie had replied.

Saturday morning, the morning news runs the breaking story of another animal attack. Hawkins High School golden boy, Jason Carver, found mangled in the woods near Benny’s Burgers, near unrecognizable due to his wounds. Disemboweled, his heart ripped from his chest. The town is shocked, heart broken, paranoid.

School gets canceled for the week following the loss while town officials and school board members scramble to make decisions about what to do.

As the week drags on, Eddie begins to anticipate the hunger returning, bracing himself for the aching pit to swallow him whole.

But it doesn’t.

In fact, Eddie feels the best he ever has in his life. His vision is sharper, his hearing more clear, his muscles coiled with a strength he definitely didn’t have before. He’d accidentally crushed a glass of water in his hand, the shards slicing into his palm and leaving blood spattered on the kitchen floor. The wound had healed before he even finished cleaning everything up.

In place of physical hunger is a different craving all together. It’s been over a week since that night in his trailer where he made you cum on his lap. He sees your rapturous expression every time he closes his goddamn eyes. If he doesn’t see you soon, touch you soon, he’s going to go insane.

The Monday following the discovery of their son’s body, the Carvers and the Pearsons stand beside Principal Higgins at an impromptu assembly, dabbing their tear filled eyes with tissues as they insist that the school continue the time honored tradition of the homecoming game and dance despite their loss.

���It’s what our sons would have wanted. They gave their all to this school, and would have been dancing and playing alongside you had their lives not been so tragically cut short,” Mr. Carver says into the microphone, an arm around Mrs. Carver as she sniffles demurely into a tissue.

Principal Higgins leads a tentative round of applause. Eddie rolls his eyes, searching the lower bleachers for a glimpse of you. You’re down in the front row with the rest of the cheerleaders, an arm around Chrissy Cunningham’s waist.

Principal Higgins lets Officer Pearson close out the assembly with a rousing speech about keeping the town safe with increased patrols around the wooded areas, promising that no other Hawkins High student will befall the same fate as his son.

“And if anyone sees something, remember to say something,” he finishes. The families take their leave and Principal Higgins dismisses everyone, the gym erupting with the sounds of a couple hundred voices trying to be heard above each other.

Eddie hides beneath the bleachers, eyes scanning the crowd of students passing by him. He catches sight of you and leans out of the shadows, grabbing you by the wrist and tugging you against him with a hand over your mouth to stifle your surprise.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he whispers against your ear. As you relax against him, he removes his hand and turns you so that you’re facing him. “Miss me?”

“No, I don’t think so,” you tease. Eddie’s grin is sharp as his hands grip your ass, lifting you up and urging your legs around his waist as he presses you against the back wall of the gym.

“That’s not very nice,” he whispers against your neck. “Do I have to remind you why you should?”

He presses his hips against yours, the pressure working the seam of your jeans right over your clit. You bite your lip to hold back your groan, the sharp tang of copper blooming on your tongue.

“Shit,” you hiss, touching a finger to your lip. Eddie eyes the red spot on the digit held between you. He works a hand free to grasp your wrist, bringing the finger to his mouth and sucking gently.

He locks eyes with you as he moans gently at the taste exploding across his tongue. Your eyes are wide as he draws back before he leans forward to kiss you, licking greedily at your split lip. You kiss him back eagerly, writhing against him as he swallows your sounds.

It’s not until the gym doors slam shut behind the last student do you remember where you are, the spell broken as you wiggle in Eddie’s grasp to be set down. His hands remain planted on your hips and he can’t help the pout that he gives you as you straighten your shirt.

“Sorry I haven’t been able to see you,” you say, hands toying with a pin on his denim vest. “With everything happening, the girls are really freaked out. And Chrissy is obviously upset about Jason.”

“Damn you for being such a good friend.” He slides a hand behind your neck to pull you close again for another kiss, another hint of blood against his tongue.

“I can’t believe they’re still going to have the dance,” you continue when Eddie pulls away. “I thought for sure they’d cancel it.” When Eddie doesn’t say anything, you fidget with the zipper on his jacket before murmuring, “So…”

“So…?” Eddie asks.

“Are you…going to go? To homecoming?”

Eddie smiles tightly. “I can’t. Don’t got the grades to be eligible for tickets.”

Your shoulders slump. “Oh.”

“We could go out instead?” He offers, running his hands up and down your arms.

“I can’t. I’m on the homecoming court, so I have to go.”

Eddie groans, tipping his forehead to yours. “We’ll figure something out,” he promises, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

—————

Since they’ve announced homecoming is still scheduled, you’ve been slammed with last minute preparations. You’re forced to spend your hours after school prepping decor and banners for spirit week, which starts next week. You miss your small moments with Eddie in his van as he drives you home from school and you talk about anything and everything for the short trip.

“We still going dress shopping after school today?” Carrie asks at lunch, flipping through a Sears catalog. “Do you know what color you’re getting?”

Shit, you think. You forgot about promising to go dress shopping today.

Your eyes find Eddie beyond her shoulder, his eyes already on you. “Black,” you tell her. She makes a face.

“Really? Isn’t Kyle wearing green? Shouldn’t you match?” She asks. That breaks your staring contest with Eddie.

“What?”

“Kyle’s your partner for court. Didn’t Sally tell you?” She pops the gum in her mouth. “He’s stoked about it.”

You groan. “I don’t want to be paired with Kyle. Can’t I be paired with Frankie?” You ask desperately.

Kyle Miller has asked you out countless times. Each time is more aggressive, with the last one being at a house party over the summer where he cornered you alone in a basement. Chrissy was actually the one to get him to back off that time, having come down at just the right moment to scare him off. To everyone else, he comes off as yet another popular jock, disarmingly handsome with a megawatt smile that he knows how to use to his advantage. But all you see is the times he just hasn’t taken no for an answer.

“I don’t see why you won’t just give Kyle a chance. You two would make such a cute couple,” Carrie says.

“He’s not my type,” you reply, eyes flitting once more to Eddie. He’s got one of his freshmen in a playful headlock, a broad smile on his face that makes your heart race.

“Oh, come on! You haven’t been out with anyone since John in sophomore year.”

You shrug. Pulling the magazine from her hands, you flip through the pages, pointing out ones you like for a change in subject.

________

Later that night, you throw your shopping bags on your bed, collapsing beside them. Carrie had managed to drag you to every store in the mall in search of the perfect dress. She found something wrong with every single one she tried on until finally deciding the first dress that she tried on at the first store, hours ago , would be her best choice.

Where your friend’s dress was a bright pink satin and tulle number, you went with a form fitting black dress that reminded you of Audrey Hepburn’s iconic Breakfast at Tiffany’s outfit. Leaning heavily into that inspiration, you’d also purchased a pair of elbow length black satin gloves.

You leverage yourself up from the bed with a groan and begin to put your purchases away. Your parents are away for the night, having gone to visit your mom’s sister for the weekend, leaving the house quiet.

Which is why you scream bloody murder when there’s a knock on your window.

You can just make out Eddie’s mischievous grin beyond the dark glass as you stomp over and throw the window open, smacking him on the shoulder as he climbs over the windowsill. “You asshole!”

He grabs your wrist tightly, tugging you close as he wraps his arm around your waist. You tilt your head up as he leans down to press a rough kiss to your lips. The hunger he comes at you with is a surprise, but not an unwelcome one. You wrap your own arms around his shoulders, fingers diving into his wild hair to hold him to you.

He groans against your mouth, giving you the opportunity to slide your tongue against his. That arm around your waist slides lower, his hand gripping your ass roughly before he lands a hard smack to one cheek that makes you gasp.

“Hey, baby,” he says, voice low and eyes dark. He looks over your shoulder. “You find yourself a dress?”

The abrupt change leaves you winded. When you recover you finally reply, “Yeah, you wanna see it?” You grab the plastic wrapped dress from the bed, intent on heading to the bathroom with it to change.

“Where ya goin’?” Eddie asks, taking a seat on your bed and reclining back on his elbows like he belongs there.

“I was…gonna change?”

His grin is salacious. “You could do that right here.”

_________

Eddie is practically vibrating with the need to touch you. You’re standing there in your room, looking like a deer caught in the headlights with your eyes all wide in surprise at his suggestion that you change into your dress in front of him.

He can hear your heart rate speed up, see the rush of blood to your cheeks. He licks his lips.

“Take your clothes off,” he commands.

You hang the dress on the hook on the back of your door before tentatively curling your fingers into the hem of your shirt. Eddie gives you an encouraging nod as you slowly lift the fabric over your head.

He’s pleased to note that the flush in your cheeks trails down your chest. “Tell me, does that pretty little dress work with that?”

“Work with…what?”

“That bra.” You shake your head. “Then lose it, too.”

You swallow nervously before reaching behind your back to unclasp your bra, letting it slide down your arms and drop to the floor. Eddie sits up at attention, adjusting his jeans to relieve the pressure building at his crotch.

Christ, you’re so pretty. You look good enough to eat.

“Now the pants,” he directs. Your fingers slip nervously on the button of your pants. “Come here.”

You take a tentative step closer. When he can reach out, he slips a finger into your waistband and tugs sharply, pulling you closer on unsteady feet. He keeps his eyes focused on your face as he undoes your fly.

“Go ahead, baby,” he whispers. “Take ‘em off.”

“Eddie—“

“Shh, sweetheart. Just do as you’re told,” he interrupts. Your breathing is ragged as you shimmy your jeans over your hips, letting them pool around your feet. “That’s it, good girl.”

_________

Your mouth goes dry at Eddie’s words, a shiver running up your spine as his fingertips trail lightly over your thighs. His eyes are still locked on yours, which somehow makes you feel more vulnerable than if they were roving your naked body.

“Should I…put the dress on?” You whisper.

Eddie smirks. “No, princess. I’ve got bigger plans.” He wraps an arm around your waist and faster than you can realize what’s happening, you find yourself on your back, blinking up at the ceiling in surprise.

“My, my,” Eddie continues, body looming over yours, “You look like a feast, baby.”

The wording he’s chosen throws you off. His body blocks out some of the light from above you, casting his features in shadows that make him seem…dangerous. Eyes darker than they should be, teeth sharper.

Like a predator.

His head dips down, tongue tracing the dip in your collarbone and your racing thoughts come to a screeching halt as you gasp out his name. He licks a path to your neck, teeth scraping against the thin skin that protects your pulse.

“Pretty, pretty girl,” he murmurs. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Touch me,” you breathe out. You can feel his smile against your neck.

“I am touching you,” he says, kisses trailing lower until he’s trailing his mouth over your breasts. You arch your back, seeking more.

His lips circle one of your pebbled nipples, drawing it into his mouth with a rough pull that makes you moan. A hand is immediately gripping your other breast in balance to the attention of his tongue on your sensitive flesh.

“Eddie!”

“That’s right, baby,” he says before switching sides. Your hips writhe beneath him, seeking friction you can’t find. You let out a pitiful whine. “Hush.”

You bite your lip painfully hard to comply with his command. His hand leaves your breast, sliding down until his fingers are rubbing over the slick fabric of your panties.

“You’re so fuckin’ wet, that all for me?” He asks.

“Don’t see anyone else here,” you tease. Eddie lands a gentle smack to your sensitive pussy in retaliation.

“Damn right there’s not anyone else here,” he snaps, not unkindly. “Because this is all mine, isn’t it sweetheart? This soaking wet cunt is dripping just for me.”

“Oh, god,” you cry out as Eddie’s fingers slip past the elastic around your waist, diving into your wet heat. “Eddie, please!”

Your hips chase his hand as his fingers curl against you in their retreat, the slick sound of his hand exploring your pussy filling the room. His lips press to yours to swallow your desperate noises as he rubs your clit in tight circles.

A ripping noise breaks through your consciousness, and your eyes pop open. You tear your mouth from Eddie’s and lift your head to see the mangled remains of your panties clutched in his fist.

“Whoops. Sorry,” he says, looking anything but apologetic. His lips continue to drag down, down, down until he’s lying flat on his belly between your thighs.

Eddie uses a hand on your thigh to push your legs apart, shouldering his way closer until you can feel his breath against your heated skin. You squirm against his hold, the attention he’s giving you almost too much.

“Anyone ever kissed you here before, baby?” Eddie asks.

“N-no,” you stutter. You’re not a virgin, haven’t been since sophomore year when you had a lackluster experience with your then-boyfriend that lasted approximately three pumps and ended in plenty of disappointment. While you don’t have any first hand experience with what Eddie’s offering, you’ve read about it. The women’s magazines and erotic books you sneak from your mom’s stash discuss it in great detail.

“That’s a shame,” he says, pressing a kiss to one thigh, then the other, all while keeping his eyes fixed to yours. Your breathing kicks up, chest heaving with the anticipation of his mouth connecting where you’re most desperate for him. “A pussy like this deserves to be worshiped.”

Your head drops back with a groan as he licks through your folds, moaning at the taste. His tongue circles your clit before dipping to your leaking entrance, greedily gathering the essence of you. The sounds that come from Eddie are animalistic, deep growls and low rumbles that if you were in the right state of mind and not rocketing towards an orgasm you would find them terrifying.

His hands tighten around your legs to pin you in place as your hips work in tandem with his mouth. Those dark eyes peek up at you, but you can barely keep your own open long enough to watch. You dig your hands into his hair in ecstasy, holding him to you as his relentless pace continues.

“Eddie, Eddie,” you cry out. That grip on your hips gets damn near painful, the bite of his nails into your skin aching. “Please, please, please!”

“Please what, princess?” He rumbles, mouth never leaving your dripping core.

“Please, fuck me,” you beg, hardly recognizing your own desperate voice.

“No, baby, you’re gonna come in my mouth like a good fucking girl,” he growls, doubling down on his efforts. Your back arches from the bed as you press your hips to his skilled mouth. “That’s it, come on pretty girl, come for me.”

With a scream, you do as you’re told, your release washing over you like a tidal wave that never stops. His tongue keeps up its pace against your clit, sending additional little shocks that make you see stars.

“Oh my god,” you cry, practically sobbing as he doesn’t let up. “Eddie!”

You can feel the feral grin he hides against your flesh. His tongue slows until he’s giving you one last lick and sitting up, looking all too pleased with himself.

“Wanna see you,” you slur. You’re a boneless puddle in the middle of your mattress, squirming around on the wet spot you’ve left behind on the sheets. “Please?”

“Since you asked so nicely,” he replies, unbuttoning his jeans and shoving them low enough that he can pull his cock out. You can’t look away from him as he leisurely strokes his thick length, a pearl of precum pooling at the tip. You reach a hand out to try to touch him, but he bats it away. “Just watch, princess.”

You pout, but do as you’re told, eyeing him hungrily. Your eyes alternate between watching his face screwed up in pleasure and watching his hand as it flies roughly up and down his cock, your mouth watering at the sight. You squirm, bringing a hand between your legs to rub at your oversensitive clit.

“Greedy fucking girl,” he groans, but he does nothing to stop you. “Already came once but desperate for more.”

You nod, unable to form the words to respond. Your motions are sloppy, hips bucking beneath your hand as he leans forward, bringing your bodies closer but not touching, making you whine.

“Quiet, baby, I’ll take what’s mine when the time is right,” he grunts, his pace stuttering as he nears his release. “Until then, be my good girl and say my fucking name.”

“Eddie!” You cry, your second orgasm breaking across your nerves. He growls and you swear his eyes go pitch black as he comes, his spend landing on your tummy in hot splashes. He works his cock until it starts to soften and he flops beside you on the bed, dragging your sweat damp body back against his.

When you’ve finally caught your breath, you wiggle around to face him. His eyes are back to that sweet soft brown that you love so much, like coffee with a splash of milk. He smiles, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“You didn’t even see my dress,” you say with a pout.

“Don’t worry, I’ll see it at the dance.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “You said you couldn’t get tickets.”

He smirks at you. “Who said anything about buying a ticket?”

[echo-goes-mmm]

Ambrose and Elliot #17

Masterpost

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Warnings: homophobia (no slurs), sexism, violence

He’d been bad. Of course he’d been bad, Ambrose hadn’t been keeping him in line. Hadn’t been hitting him enough. It was all Elliot’s fault of course, Ambrose couldn’t have known how defective Elliot was. 

He stared dumbly at the shattered ceramic on the ground. He’d dropped three whole plates and two whole mugs. He was fucked. 

Master was out running errands. Elliot needed to tell him as soon as he got home, or he’d be punished for lying too.

Elliot swept up the shards, careful to avoid stepping on any slivers. Master Ambrose said he wasn’t allowed to hurt himself, and he couldn’t afford to disobey any further.

When the dustpan was full and the floor clean, he carefully carried it into the dining room. He placed it several feet away from the door. Easy to spot but not so close that Master Ambrose would step on it. He would confess as soon as Master came home. 

Elliot’s arms shook as he dusted the upstairs rooms. A pit of dread gnawed at his stomach and his head ached. There was nothing left to distract him from his mistake; the last thing on the to-do list was the dusting and that was over in a few minutes. 

He heard the front door open.

___________________

The whole thing was bullshit. Total bullshit! Just because Ambrose got offended over nothing! 

James had been fired from three jobs since that degenerate had kicked him out. Why he hadn’t been run out of town was a mystery to him. 

It seemed like everyone in Little Wood was against him. Even Dad had been getting on his case. How was he supposed to make money if no one was hiring? Shit, even Jennifer didn’t want him around and he knew she was into him. 

A shame really. She was smokin hot, and redheads were an eight out of ten in his opinion. She was probably just playing hard to get. 

Still, he was pretty pissed at Ambrose. This whole thing was his fault. The tavern was a great spot to pick up girls and some cash. Now he was broke and his one avenue to escape the friend zone was closed. Motherfucker.

He was going to give Ambrose a piece of his mind.

___________________

Elliot rushed downstairs and into the dining room, but it wasn’t Ambrose. Instead, a stranger stood in the doorway. 

“Where the fuck is Ambrose?” The hair on the back of Elliot’s neck stood up.

“Out,” he squeaked. The stranger stepped closer. 

“And you’re his shitty boyfriend, aren’t you?” the stranger snarled. “Disgusting.”

“I- I’m not,” protested Elliot. What was happening? Why was the man so angry with him?

The stranger looked at the dusting rag in his hand.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me. You stole my job!” 

The stranger crossed the room, carelessly kicking the dustpan in the process. But Elliot didn’t have time to mourn the new mess. He tried to dash up the stairs, but the stranger grabbed him. Yanking him by the arm, the stranger jerked him in the other direction. Elliot stumbled, his back slamming into the bar. He cried out, and the stranger only seemed to get angrier.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, huh?” he said, “fight me like man!”

Elliot didn’t want to fight, he wanted to get away. He scrambled towards the door, but the stranger was faster and kicked him square in the ribs as he passed. Elliot yelped, and the force caused him to lose his balance, skittering straight into the shattered ceramic littering the floor. 

The room spun and swam through his tears, and the sting of his cuts was overwhelming. The dining room faded and the smooth wood turned to rough, gritty stone. 

No, please no. This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t happening.

Laughter rang in his ears, and he couldn’t tell who it was anymore. Elliot screwed his eyes shut. He curled up on himself, something awful digging into his skin. Master’s boot slammed into his side, knocking the air out of him.

No, it couldn’t be Master. Could it? What was happening to him? Where was he? 

___________________

Ambrose sprinted towards the house as soon as he heard the screaming. He burst through the door, and the scene was from a nightmare.

James stood over Elliot, who was curled up on the floor, blood and debris smeared everywhere. James looked up, startled, and Ambrose saw red. 

He flew across the room, slamming into James, knocking over a barstool in the fall.

“Wait, wait, I-,” but Ambrose didn’t want to hear it. He grabbed his shirt, forcing him up, and punched him square in the face. Blood spurted from his nose, and James screamed. Ambrose let him drop, and pinned him to the ground with a boot to the chest.

“If you ever come near Elliot again, I will kill you,” he snarled. “Got it?”

James made a strangled sound and nodded frantically. Ambrose moved off of him, and he half ran and half stumbled out the door.

___________________

Over the roar of blood in his ears, [REDACTED] could hear someone talking to him. He couldn’t place where he’d heard it before. He liked the voice. It must be some sort of visitor, but Master didn’t have nice guests. 

“Elliot,” said the voice. Who was Elliot? “Can you hear me?” 

A hand suddenly touched him, and he flinched. But the hand was resting gently on his shoulder. It didn’t hurt. It began to rub a small circle on his shoulder, then traced up to his cheek. 

“Hey,” said the voice. Maybe it was talking to him now? “It’s alright.” [REDACTED] wasn’t sure if he believed the voice, but he wanted to. 

There was a sharp pain on his back and his ribs throbbed. His arms and palms stung too, and his head hurt. 

The hand stroked his cheek, and the loud sound in his ears was fading. The hand and the voice must be related.

“Can you open your eyes for me?” coaxed the voice. [REDACTED] didn’t really want to, but the voice sounded so nice. And if Master was around, he would have to anyway.

He tried, he really did, but the light was too bright and it hurt his head. A whimper escaped him, and he braced for a blow.

“It’s alright,” said the voice. “You can do it, it’s okay.” Whoever it was didn’t sound mad.

“There we go,” said the voice. A person had moved in front of him, keeping the light away. Through the tears, he could see the person wasn’t his master. This man was blond, and he did know a blond. It was on the tip of his tongue.

“Hi, Ellie,” said the man- no- Ambrose. He remembered now. His name is Elliot and Ambrose is his Master. How embarrassing to forget.

“Hello,” he said. His voice was raw and his throat sore. 

“I picked up the pieces,” said Ambrose. Shit. That was Elliot’s job, and now he was in trouble again. And for starting a fight. 

“Can you sit up for me, please?” Elliot sat up, his palms screaming at him as he pushed himself off the floor. 

“Oh dear,” said Ambrose, examining his hands and arms. There were shallow scratches up and down them, both big and small. 

“Let’s go clean those, alright? We need to make sure there isn’t anything stuck in there.”

Elliot nodded, and Ambrose helped him up. Everything was sore, now that he had time to notice. He’d knocked every sharp point of his body on the floor or the bar. His knees, elbows, and even his hip. 

Carefully, Ambrose wiped off and examined every cut with some warm water. How he got warm water so fast, Elliot wasn’t sure. They stung a bit as Master Ambrose cleaned him up, but the gentle way his hand moved soothed his jitters. 

“These aren’t deep. Sort of like paper cuts. Do you want to get them wrapped, or leave them alone?” Tight bandages from elbows to hands sounded like getting tied up, and he didn’t want that. Elliot shook his head.

“Alright. Did James hurt you anywhere else?” James must be the stranger who beat him.

“My ribs,” said Elliot. “He kicked me. And I hurt my back when he pushed. My wrist too.” He could feel the finger-shaped bruises forming. He could hear Ambrose take a deep breath and let it out. He was mad.

“Alright. Can I see? You can say no if you want.” Elliot thought for a moment. He was surprised to find that he actually didn’t mind. Ambrose wasn’t interested in sex, so it was fine.

He pulled off his shirt, and turned to show Ambrose his side and back. Ambrose did that breath thing again, but his fingers were still gentle as they traced his skin. Aside from the ache, it felt kind of nice. 

“Do you want some cold cloths? It could help.” Elliot hated cold things, and the last thing he wanted was cold wet fabric on his tender skin.

“No thank you, sir.” Elliot tugged his shirt back on and turned back to face Master.

“Okay. What happened, love?” ‘Love’ was good. Maybe he was mad at James and not him.

“I broke some dishes. And I cleaned it up, I promise, but um, he came in and got mad at me. And I didn’t mean to start a fight. And the pieces got everywhere. I’m sorry.”

“Ellie,” said Ambrose, “I believe you about the dishes, it’s okay. But I want you to think really hard. Did you start the fight, or did James?” 

Thinking hard wasn’t something Elliot was good at. But now that Ambrose pointed it out, James had grabbed him for no reason. He hadn’t stolen anything. Much less a job. Those were for people, and Elliot wasn’t a person.

“James,” he admitted.

“Why did he attack you? Did he say?”

James had said a lot of things, Elliot was pretty sure. He only caught some of it.

“He- He said I was your, um, boyfriend. And that I took his job. But I told him I wasn’t, sir, I swear.”

“I believe you,” said Ambrose. That was very good. Elliot couldn’t lie, but he was worried Ambrose didn’t know that.

Elliot felt a little better, and Ambrose was being so understanding, it couldn’t hurt to ask. 

“Are you going to punish me? For breaking your dishes?” Ambrose looked at him, appalled, and Elliot cringed.

“No sweetheart. Everybody makes those mistakes.” Huh. Elliot wasn’t exactly an everyone, but if that's what Master Ambrose preferred, he had no right to question it. 

Maybe the beating was punishment enough for Ambrose.

___________________

Elliot was sitting with Ambrose in his drawing room. He’d wrapped up in the blanket Katie had gotten him. Elliot was quietly staring into the fire, watching the flames. He was badly shaken, and Ambrose was furious. 

Ambrose wished he’d done more than break James’ nose and toss him around. Getting Elliot help was more important of course, but now that he was okay, Ambrose wanted to teach James a lesson. 

Ambrose had built up a lot of good will in Little Wood over the years. His opinion was just as valued as the council, as he’d moved there when most of them were children or not even born. Not that he advertised it. It was understood. And he would make it understood that somebody needed to rein James in. Or he’d do it himself.

taglist:@cupcakes-and-pain @secretwhumplair @paintedpigeon1 @whump-blog @whump-em @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @starfields08000 @littlespacecastle @mylovelyme @whump-cravings @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @zeewbee

[dujour13]

OC Kiss Week - day 4

For my friend @cassynite 💜 Ophenia's books line the shelves of my mind palace

Ophenia has to brace her notepad with her elbows because the wind up here keeps trying to snatch it away and scatter its treasures to the Sellen far below.

What a romantic image, she realizes: lost love notes washed out to sea, each a fragment of a great tale of passion someone far away will glimpse, shorn of its context. A gift like a pretty piece of sea glass, the shards of shattered lives littering the sands of—

But she’s losing the thread of the story.

“…and I found myself hanging by my fingertips from the cliff, Ishiar raging against the jagged rocks far below, and all I could think about was how I'd dragged my friends to the Abyss and failed everyone who’d put their trust in me, and this would be a most fitting end and no more than I deserved, and I squeezed my streaming eyes shut and felt my fingers slip - when suddenly a horned shadow loomed over the cliffside! Then my hand was seized and the next thing I knew I was in his arms..."

She glances up from her notepad and her lips quirk. “Really.”

“Pretty much, yeah.” He uses his lilac shirt to wipe down the mouth of the wine bottle and passes it to her. Of course he suggested meeting on the dramatic cliffs outside Kenabres, and of course he didn’t think to bring wine glasses. Which is fine as far as Ophenia is concerned. She accepts the bottle and takes a swig.

“Hanging by the fingertips,” she repeats drily as she notes this down.

“Well, he did save my life.”

“No no, I like it. Don’t mistake me. Please carry on.”

As he does, they watch the sun slowly set over the Rejuvenated Lands.

“The entire Fleshmarket?”

“That part’s true.”

“Mm-hm.”

“It’s getting dark. You want a lift back to town?”

“A lift? Whatever do you mean?”

He gives her a hand up, singing as he does, and a brilliant flash like the sun coming out suddenly illuminates their cliffside picnic spot, and Ophenia finds before her a huge purple dragon with merry eyes and fairy wings.

But like everything, Ophenia takes this in stride. “So this is the baby havoc dragon in question?”

“Am I in question? Is it a good question? I hope it’s a silly question.” Aivu hunkers down and Siavash gives Ophenia a boost onto her back, then settles in behind her and urges Aivu into a thrilling leap off the cliff before they swoop toward the city.

When she’s finally back on solid ground and Aivu has disappeared through a gate to Elysium, Ophenia tries unsuccessfully to tame her windblown hair and refrain from a burst of girlish laughter.

“It’s been a long time since I…”

“Had fun for real?”

She bites her lip, unable to stop smiling.

“You make so many people happy with your stories,” he says, giving her a little kiss on the cheek. “Same time tomorrow? You’ll never believe what happened when we got back to Drezen…”

[vampsquerade]

Hi!

A thought has been stuck in my head for some time now. Fuze/Reader: Enemies to Lovers. Anything about love/hate? I'm sorry I can't express it more precisely, it's hard to get it out of my head.

PS. Welcome back! I hope you're doing well. I wish you a great weekend and a good mood! Love you <3

hello anon!! thank you for the lovely welcome back, you’re so kind and i love you too!! i hope you’re doing well yourself my dear :,) i can definitely write this up for you! enemies to lovers is my favorite i love this so much…but also i’m sorry this may not turn out the way you might have liked, it’s been a while

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Fuze x GN!Reader: Breaking Points

Trigger Warnings: angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, physical altercations (punching, glass breaking over head), emotional distress, heavy drinking, infirmary visits

For years after joining Rainbow, you would’ve thought you’d figure out why Shuhrat had such an undying hatred for you. You didn’t know if it was from the way you introduced yourself to him, the way you acted, or the way you trained. All you knew was that he absolutely hates your guts. But what hurts most from this is the fact that you’ve found yourself falling in love with him. You tried your absolute hardest to be as nice as possible to him, apologizing promptly if he told you to shut up or just go away. In being pretty close to Aleksandr, the eldest Russian pretty much told you everything about Shuhrat, making it much easier to know about the things he liked. How was it that you managed to fall in love with a man that never even got along with you? It was impossible to even reach an understanding as to why you have such emotions for him.

It was like the day fell in love with the night—except the day was lukewarm and the night was freezing.

“Is everything okay, малыш? You are staring at the drink like you want to cry.” Aleksandr asks softly, putting a hand on your shoulder. Blinking a few times, you just sigh and shake your head, “I’m fine.” you lie, giving him a smile before downing your drink. “If you do not feel comfortable drinking with us because of Shuhrat it’s okay. We will not judge you for it.” Timur chimes in quietly, pouring you another drink once you beckon for him to do so. “I want to hang out with you guys though. You guys are at least fun.” you say. “Do not worry, it is still as much of a mystery to us as it is you.” Aleksandr reassures. You just shrug and down your drink once again, making sure to keep yourself separate from Maxim and Shuhrat, both of which were keeping to themselves. You’d been hanging out with Timur a lot more, happy that you knew at least 2 of the 4 Spetsnaz operators didn’t hate you.

Two hours would then come to pass and you’d be practically drunk enough to start a fight—and that’s exactly what you did. Aleksandr and Timur were off doing who knows what in the other corner of the room, laughing their asses off with a few of the other operators that decided to join in. This meant you were completely alone with Shuhrat, and you gripped your glass tightly. “What did I ever do to you?” you say, voice completely monotonous. “Who do you speak to?” Shuhrat asks, voice normally as cold as possible. “You, idiot. What did I ever do to you?” you repeat, keeping your eyes on your glass. “That is for me to know, not you” Shuhrat says, looking at you. “That’s such…bullshit, Shuhrat.” you spit, venom and malice now lacing your tone. “What?” he says, completely taken aback by the word that just left your mouth. His eyes quickly widened once he saw you had raised the arm you were holding your glass high in the air above his head, “Let me make it simpler for you—bullshit!’” you exclaim.

In an instant, the glass made contact with Shuhrat’s head and shattered. Shards flew everywhere and the commotion caused everyone, no matter how drunk they were, to rush over to try and stop the fight you just started. Shuhrat quickly stood despite the disorientation and blood getting into his eyes, swinging a left hook right against your nose. Becoming disoriented with a heavily bleeding nose, you were about to jump at him but you were swiftly held back by Timur and Aleksandr with the same being done with Shuhrat by Maxim and Elias. “What the hell happened?” Miles asks calmly, looking at you. You just stare at him for a moment, before looking back at Shuhrat and managing to push yourself out of the vice grip Aleksandr and Timur had on you.

Drunk and heavily bleeding, you simply turn and walk yourself away from everyone else. Nobody attempts to make a move to follow or stop you for any reason; it would be hell if they tried it upon seeing you snap for the very first time. At this point you’re convinced that nothing would be resolved, so you might as well just reciprocate the energy to him. “Idiot…who did you think you were fooling..?” you mumble drunkenly. Stumbling all the way to the infirmary, you open the door slowly and are met with Mina. “Hey…care to help me with my ninety-nine percent broken nose please..?” you ask. “Damn…who got you this hard?” Mina asked, helping you sit down on one of the beds there. “Shuhrat gave me a damn good one. I deserved it, though…smashed a glass over his head.” you say. “Two of you seem to be getting along much better.” Mina jokes, making sure you keep your head still so she could safely check if your nose was even broken in the first place. “Consider yourself lucky—you’re the 1% that didn’t get their nose broken.”

Feeling relieved, you continue to keep yourself still as Mina treats the injury you sustained. Eventually the bleeding from your nose stops but just in the case of you potentially breaking it, a splint is placed on it carefully. “Go ahead and lay down for a bit. I’m gonna go get you some water.” Mina says as she disposes of her gloves. You do as you’re told and position yourself to lay down, making sure to lay on the right side to avoid Shuhrat if he was to come in. And you would find it to be a good idea, because Shuhrat walked in and mumbled what he needed to Mina. You could only tell it was him by the way he mumbled, and just hearing him made your heart jump a bit in your chest. “God dammit…”

The amount of liquor you drank was making you extremely tired at this point, so you were starting to doze off. A few minutes pass, and as you’re nearly asleep, you feel a dip in the mattress of your bed. You groan at the person, trying to kick them off, only to have both your legs grabbed. “Let…go…” you say. “No. It is time we talked.” the person said. “Shuhrat..?” you mumble, opening your eyes and attempting to sit up. “Remain laid down. You will get yourself dizzy and throw up.” Shuhrat said. “Shut up…don’t tell me what to do…” you say sleepily, continuing to sit yourself up. He sighs softly at this, letting go of your legs but keeping himself ready in the case you decide you want to kick him. “Why do you suddenly want to talk to me?” you ask coldly.

Shuhrat visibly winces before sighing once again, “Because…I need to tell you about everything. None of it really excuses how I treated you—being rude and telling you I hated you—because in reality I was trying to hide other feelings.” he speaks. Your eyes widen, and you’re almost certain you want to kick the shit out of him. But for whatever reason, you can’t seem to bring yourself to do it. It’s as if you’re just…waiting to hear him out and explain himself before resorting to any further violence. “And what were those other feelings that you couldn’t just express to me?” you spit, crossing your arms. “It’s hard for me to show emotion. I used to have a fiancée but…I broke our wedding off because she wasn’t the one for me in the end. Ever since I lost my brother, I have been shut off from others for so long. And then…” he begins before trailing off.

Your previous face of annoyance became one of somber, as you had remembered Aleksandr mentioning that to you. “‘And then,’ what?” you ask. Shuhrat looked you dead in the eyes, and you could see he was sincere with what he spoke of. “And then you came along. It had been years since I broke off my engagement that I forgot how to express emotion. It is not normal for me to even speak as much as I am now. But you…you did something to me, and I did nothing but bring pain.” he said. “Why did it take me breaking a fucking glass over your head to get you to talk with me like a normal human being?” you ask. “I spoke to Harry earlier today about it. I needed proper advice and he said to look for a window of opportunity. That glass over my head was enough.” You laugh bitterly, “You’ve got a lot of fixing to do if you think I’ll just take you so easily…I was in love with you for so long…”

Shuhrat sighed, “Was? Are you no longer in love with me?” he asks. “I think I still am…but by the time we were separated I was thinking it was foolish to even be in love with you for so long…” you say. “Then…perhaps we can start anew.” Shuhrat said, sticking his hand out to you. “What are you doing..?” you ask. “I am Shuhrat, who are you?” he asked almost playfully. You give him a smile, realizing what he truly meant, “I’m Y/N. Nice to meet the real you, Shuhrat.” you say. Giving him your hand, the both of you shake before Shuhrat gently pulls you towards him into an embrace. A gentle kiss is planted onto the top of your head, making you smile.

[asukamood]

Birthday special (Me)

***

It’s my birthday today! I have decided to write myself some Drue to celebrate it and it’s also a way for me to spend this lovely day with you all 😀

So let us rejoice in this!

***

Warnings: Panic attack

Synopsis: Today was supposed to be a good day.

So why, of all days, why was today the day Life had decided to make him deal with a panic attack?

***

Today was supposed to be a good day.

He had less work than usual and none of his subordinates had rushed to his office in panic to inform him of any kind of dramatic problem that he had to dispel one way or another.

There was no meeting to be upheld so no one to look at him in expectation in wait for one of his enlightening ideas.

There was no speech scheduled so he did not have to feel everyone’s piercing gazes from afar, history’s eyes set onto the target of his back, nor did he have to endure the stress and panic at the idea of stumbling on his words and making a fool of himself.

The door to his alcohol stash was sealed shut still so he did not have to worry about relapsing and breaking the promise he had made to a dear friend.

None of those stressful factors were present.

So why, of all days, why was today the day Life had decided to make him deal with a panic attack?

He had just been doing paperwork as usual, it was fine.

It was supposed to be fine.

So why was it not?

His hand had started to shake.

He noticed but he tried to ignore the trembling of the limb and keep writing.

It did not work.

His hand trembled enough to leave an ugly smear of ink on the sheet he was writing before it spiraled out of control, and he eventually let go of the pen. He tried to pick it back up but every time his fingers wrapped around the item; it would jolt away like it had been electrified.

He frowned as a heavy feeling crept its way through his chest until it was wrapped around his soul.

He brought his hand to his face and his eyebrows furrowed slightly more as he focused on how uncontrollable his hand was being.

Unknown to him, his hand was not the only thing that had started to become uncontrollable, his breathing had begun to act up.

The weird feeling squeezed his soul.

He pushed his spinning chair back, attempting to stand up.

He did not know why exactly but something was terribly wrong, this room felt like it was suffocating him, the walls closing in and leaving him no room to escape.

He had to leave.

His knees buckled under him when he stood up, forcing him to lean onto his desk with his two hands to stabilize himself. He could feel his soul beating his rib cage to hell.

One of his hands left the desk to grip at the front of his shirt instead, right above where his soul would be. He felt like blazing flames had engulfed him whole but at the same time, the sensation of being buried beneath thick layers of icy snow did not leave.

His breath got quicker as he tried to suck in oxygen through his mouth.

The silence was deafening.

He had to leave.

He took a step on his left, still holding onto his desk for dear life and accidentally knocked over a cup that fell to the floor and shattered. He barely noticed it when he crushed one of the shards with his foot.

He had made it to the end of the desk, but it felt like he had just run a marathon. He eyed the door in front of him, it was not too far away, surely, he was going to make it.

He had to leave.

But he could not, apparently, his legs having given up on him halfway and he collapsed. At least, he had managed to sit up against the door.

By now, saying that his vision was blurry was almost an understatement.

It was safe to say that he was pretty much blinded by it.

All shapes have been strangled beyond recognition by the heralds of anxiety and the colors swirled together in a frantic tornado, urging Dream to shut his eyes closed.

His ears were ringing.

His eyes were burning.

His head was aching.

He had to leave.

“...eam?” A voice vaguely called out to him, but he paid it no mind, preferring to focus on figuring out what the problem was in the first place.

“Dream?” The voice got louder and closer, it was not a figment of his imagination. Although, he would rather have it shut up now. The sound of a voice was only making his headache worse.

“Dream.” The owner of the voice seemed to sit up next to him and Dream groaned, bringing his legs over his chest. “What’s the matter?”

He felt sick.

He tried to tell the other person, whoever it was, to leave him alone or something of the sort. He could not be bothered to sort out his thoughts, but he only ended up sighing instead.

It was still hard to breathe.

His chest felt so tight.

“I’m going to touch you, okay?”

Vaguely, he could hear the other person inching closer to him before they lowered his knees. He let them do as they wanted, having the feeling they were no threat despite not being able to recognize who it was exactly.

His eyes remained closed.

That person put their hand on top of his hand, the one who was gripping his shirt and started rubbing soft circles on his knuckles. He tried to focus on the touch.

Why did it feel so familiar?

“Can you state three things you can feel for me?” Dream frowned in concentration.

“Your hand...” His other hand started to feel the ground. “The carpet...” A wind current sneaked in through the open window, grazing at his cheek. “And the wind.”

“Good, three things you can smell?”

… “Blueberry, coffee and-” He sniffed the air again. “Vanilla.”

He was starting to calm down.

“Okay, move three of his limbs then.” He shook his head then moved one of his feet and last but not least, raised one of his hands.

After that, he risked opening his eyes again. Thankfully, they did not seem to be out for his blood again as his vision had gone back to normal, the colors no longer burning his irises.

He blinked a few times before turning his head, meeting Blue’s eyes. He blinked awkwardly as he recognized him. “Blue?”

Well, he supposed that it was better to have been found him by him than one of his subordinates (or worse, a paparazzi. Dream shuddered in horror at the thought.)

“The one and only.” He smiled, taking the hand he had been rubbing slow circles on before bringing it to his face, kissing the knuckles. “How are you feeling now, angel boy?”

Dream masked his heated cheeks with a deadpan expression. He retracted his hand, letting it fall to his side. He could still feel tingles from where Blue kissed him. “I’m okay.” Then, after a few seconds of hesitation he added, “Thank you.”

Blue’s smile widened. “There is no need to thank me. Though, I would rather not be given such a fright again, I almost thought someone drugged you!” He dramatically shook his head. “What happened to you anyway?”

“I wish I could tell you.” Dream sighed, leaning back onto the door behind him. Suddenly, he felt like the entire world had fallen onto his shoulders. “I was just working as usual and it just, hit me.”

Blue hummed. “Sounds to me like you’re in dire need of rest.”

Dream eyed him before sighing. “You make it sound like I could just take a day off any time. I have work to do, I cannot be slacking off.”

“The multiverse isn’t going to crumble because you took a break.” Blue retorted, tracing the outlines of his hand with his finger. “Besides, your mind isn’t clear enough to go back to work yet, you won’t be as efficient if you were to go back to work now.”

Dream frowned. He had a point. “Plus, what would they do if you were to take a day off? Stop you? No one has much authority as you do, you are aware of it yourself. If you were not, you would not be doing this to yourself.” Blue lifted his hand before his fingers slipped beside Dream’s own, intertwining their hands.

Against his better judgment, Dream let him.

“You deserve and desperately need a break, so why not indulge yourself in some rest while you’re not too busy to do so?” He said nothing, preferring to look away.

Though, it was clear that Blue had understood it meant that he won.

“Splendid!” He exclaimed before getting up. “I’m not letting you sleep on the floor though so stand up for me, will you?”

Dream nodded and a few minutes later, he was lying on the couch and peacefully sleeping as Blue entertained himself in running his hand through Dream’s soft locks.

[ultimateloserboy]

SONIC PRIME RAMBLES!!!!

SPOILERS FOR SEASON TWO AHEAD!!!

(sorry if the screenshots are a bit mushy i was taking them quick)

firstly of course id like to mention these two. i love how when sonic is playing around and talking to himself, shadow just nods along. he didnt tell sonic to shut the fuck up, he just waited until he got his zoomies out. he even slightly participated! i just love how when shadow is cooled down a bit he’s actually pretty used to sonic and doesnt mind his silliness, it only makes him genuinely upset when it’s not the right time or place. and sure this also isnt the right time or place, but seeing as hes been blessed with literal gay magic i think shadow mightve given him a pass. that or shadow is never actually as pissed as he tries to be. which i also believe, because he plays around during fights. i think hes having fun too. hes just trying to ignore it in favor of the overall mission, which is completely fair and is kinda needed. without shadow sonic would have no fucking clue what to do hed just be running around spitting off cheesy one liners like an idiot, but without sonic shadow would be all alone with nobody but space rocks and his pissy attitude. sonic does provide shadow with fun, and everyone needs a little fun and positivity. sonic makes him happy and keeps him entertained but he’d never admit that. they balance each other out in such a nice way. they need each other in more ways than one in my opinion.

this leads me into my favorite thing about this show: sonic is not simply the hero. he’s not just saving the day and that’s that like he thinks. it’s much more complicated. lots of people he’s met seem to have clashing opinions or views of the world, and that’s not a bad thing! most of rouges variants want to just hand over the shard and get it over with, which wouldnt help in the long run but is A REASONABLE THING TO THINK!!! shadow was never malicious he was just pissed off and he’s RIGHT! hell, i dont even think nine is wrong either!!! hes never even seen the reality that sonic is wishing for! all of these people simply want to be happy but theyre from completely different worlds in a very VERY dangerous situation, of course theres going to be conflict amongst people who ARENT the villains! because the world doesn’t revolve around sonic and in situations like these its hard to find a middle ground between COUNTLESS AMOUNTS OF PEOPLE FROM ALL AROUND THE MULTIVERSE!! i think it perfectly demonstrates how all of these people arent bad people, they simply dont view things the way sonic does and thats ok. theyre all just scared and confused and in a life or death situation. well, except for dread. that motherfuckers just crazy.

i do think nine should. maybe chill 😭😭. but i think sonic shouldve at least talked with the kid a bit more about the overall goal cuz damn. i like the parallel between shadow saying “theyre not your real friends.” and nine saying hes real. because shadow was right in a sense. nine is NOT tails. he’s REAL, sure, but hes not the real TAILS. he isnt the real tails and hes not sonics friend just because sonic knows a version of him. that doesnt mean they cant BE friends but sonic being quick to assume that nine will end up like tails was just wrong on his part. sonic was quick to assume so many things about nine because of his relation to tails, and he shouldn’t have done that. he should’ve listened to shadow. it’s all “ooo shadows such a fuckin debby downer party pooping asshole” until the universe still isnt put together and THEN people consider that yeah maybe he was a little right. harsh, but right. literally if shadow was able to go into those portals i promise you this shit wouldve been over before we even got a season two. like genuinely i feel like they keep shadow in the void simply because they need to prolong the season. and i love the content dont get me wrong but please just let him go with sonic that motherfucker really does need a babysitter. i think we need BOTH of them in the actual shatterspaces. like i said, they balance each other out. if shadow was to go on his own i honestly think he wouldnt do too good either. hed just ignore everyone else and try to get things done quickly without needing help and sure he might get a little far but eventually hed need the help and he wouldnt have it. so i think sonic and shadow together should finally be allowed to do this shit fully together so that shadow can do what he has to do and sonic can go around making friends with multiverse people and saving them from robots on the side. its a win-win people!!!!!!!!! PLEASE!!!!

i do like the fact that shadows speed is artificial so it isnt the same as sonics, or at least thats what i like to think. i know hes stuck in the void because of the chaos control he did (i think) and sonics speed might not be the only factor but i do think its interesting how they cant do the same things

but truly i think the only reason the writers are keeping them seperate is because they know damn well if they teamed up full time theyd start kissing eventually

[heckinconfusedparade]

Here's a writing request for you!

How about in this alternate world, Nine takes Sonic to the Grim while the Rebels are all fighting the council, but in this he know what became of Sonic's world and is more desperate than ever, because instead of weeks it was MONTHS before he saw Sonic again and he doesn't want to lose this chance possibly forever. And so like idk something happens like a fight or something and Nine rewrites Sonics memories with the shard of the Prism, and then they're just having fun in the Grim. And then Nine begins to feel something. Something like a pit forming in his gut. Something that came too late as it's too late to back out of everything now. Something that grows stronger when Sonic smiles at him or shows care.

Guilt.

Just a weird writing prompt I'm curious on how you'll write it happening and how Nine will feel if it was a part of the episode. Like if he let Sonic know Sonic would leave and possibly hate (which could never happen but Nine thinks it would) him forever and he'd be alone again, but if he didn't he'd have to suffer with this guilt. Oh and Sonic's pretty happy in the Grim, even if he doesn't know he doesn't belong there or how he got there.

Idk just something I thought of. Something both sweet, fluffy and dark, conflicting for you to write if you want <3

Y’all are just eating up the angst aren’t you~

Months had gone by.. or so Nine thinks. Time passes weirdly in shatterspace. Point is, he hasn’t seen Sonic in a while.

Nine had finally located the perfect world; the world he calls The Grim. It’s barren and empty, the perfect empty slate to bring up a new life for him and Sonic.

Nine had done some searching and research, and thanks to some random black hedgehog in the void, Nine discovers that Sonic had destroyed his own world due to his own carelessness. His home is gone.

He was so excited to show Sonic the new beginnings.

More excited than he’s been in a while.

But then Sonic shut him down. He’s so focused on helping others. Why doesn’t he want to help someone he insisted was his best friend first? That world did nothing for Nine. Pain, agony, betrayal, and loneliness summarizes the short 8 years Nine has lived.

Boiling deep within him, an anger is fighting to break out. No matter how hard Nine tries to fight, it slips past.

“You’re.. being dumb.” Nine grumbles. Sonic turns to look at him with slight shock “sorry?”

“You’re being dumb. I’m offering you the perfect opportunity to start over, to build something new. The world you lost and the one I never had.” Nine steps closer, puffing up his chest to seem bigger.

“I can’t just abandon my friends.” Sonic isn’t sure where this is headed.

Nine laughs, which confuses Sonic even more “what a hypocritical snob you are, hedgehog. You say that, yet you’re deliberately abandoning ME. I’m trying to HELP you.”

Sonic gives Nine a stern look “listen. This place isn’t going anywhere. We have all the time to discuss this. They need me NOW.”

“Are you kidding me? You’re- you’re kidding me right? Im not sure if you’ve noticed, but you’re a massive flight risk.. every point of conflict you’ve somehow managed to disappear when you were needed most. Hell, you could blip away right now because of some stray rock or something and I won’t see you again for MONTHS! We are discussing this right here right now.” Nine glares at Sonic.

“Nine. I want to go home. I don’t want to leave you behind, but I also can’t just leave behind the people I LOVE.” Sonics getting a little upset now.

Nine smiles at Sonic “funny you say that. They’re gone, Sonic.”

“Excuse me?”

“They’re gone. When you broke the paradox prism, your world shattered. Everyone. Is. Gone. Your beloved green hills, palm trees, and blue skies? Gone. Tails? GONE. Because of YOU.”

“You don’t know that.” There’s a lot of hurt in Sonics voice. His heart has dropped to his stomach and he feels cold and sick.

“Oh but I do! You can’t even touch a shard without going somewhere else, so how could you possibly ever put them back together?” Nines voice is cold and shrill. Sonic shudders, he’s never heard this tone of voice, from Tails nonetheless.

Sonic backs away, pointing an accusing finger at Nine “you’re wrong. You are so wrong because know what? I’ve achieved the impossible before. Even as a liability, I’ve pulled through and gotten to my goal. Why? Because I care. I care about the freedom of everyone around me. I care to my own detriment because that’s just the kind of person I am and will continue to be. And the fact that you can stand there and speak to me that way tells me that you DONT care. You don’t care about anyone but yourself.”

Nine facepalms “I’m doing this BECAUSE I care. I care about YOU.”

“If you truly cared, you wouldn’t be forcing me to stay.”

Nine goes silent. He never considered using force. But if he wants to keep Sonic, he’s going to have to. He heads to his ship and plugs in some code. He charges up a beam and points it at Sonic. “Sorry bout this Sonic.. but it has to be this way.”

Sonic tenses “Nine?”

Two arms come out of the ship to grab and lock Sonic into place. Sonic struggles “NINE WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”

“What has to be done.”

FLASH!

Sonic wakes up to loud ringing and blurred vision. A familiar figure stands before him.

“Sonic..? Are you ok?” The figure reaches to touch his shoulder, bringing him back to reality.

“Yeah.. m’ fine..” Sonic rubs his head “what happened?”

Nine hums “I accidentally hit you on the head with a giant claw. Sorry about that.” lying feels so wrong.

“Oh. Well, we should get on, then.” Sonic stands, still holding his head.

Nine nods.

The two get to work building a base on the Grim.

It’s smooth sailing for a couple weeks.

Then one night, after Sonic has gone to bed to rest up for a new day, Nine lies awake in his own, plagued with thoughts.

Nine has learned the hard way that altering someone’s memories to forget important people changes someone quite a bit. Sonic is still a happy go lucky person, but he’s lost a bit of his shine. He appears to just be a fraction of himself.

Every time Sonic smiles at him, or shows any affection, Nine is sucked into a pit of guilt.

Was this the right thing to do? Or has Nine become the person he feared. The sickening feeling of guilt hits him hard, like a load of heavy bricks pressing down on his chest and shoulders.

Nine is snapped out of his thoughts by the sound of the front door being broken down.

He rushes out of bed to meet Sonic at the scene.

There in the doorway stands the hedgehog he had met in the void.

Sonic looks at Shadow with a confused sense of familiarity “do I.. know you?” He says, tilting his head. He has forgotten to fight. There’s no reason to fight. When has he ever had to?

Shadows eyes widen before he snaps to look at Nine. Shadow charges at Nine, pinning him against the wall “WHAT DID YOU DO?”

Nine had taken off his mechanical tails. He was under the impression nobody would hurt him here. He struggles under Shadows grip. Sonic grabs Shadow and pulls him back, causing him to release Nine. “What are you doing, you weirdo?!”

Shadow growls “Sonic, it’s me! Don’t you remember?!”

Sonic gives it a few moments.

He remembers being powerful.

He remembers him coming back.

He remembers when he helped him again to face the trauma of his past.

He remembers fighting from time to time, but being a respected rival.

He remembers.. being chased after he caused a blast.

He remembers him being upset.

“S..Shadow?” Sonic remembers him now. But so many empty places are left in his memory.

Sonic physically relaxes “Shadow. It’s you, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it’s me. I was wondering why I hadn’t heard you screaming in the void.. turns out it’s because of this little freak.” Shadow points to Nine who gives him a nasty look. Shadow grabs Sonic by the arm and starts pulling him “come on, we have to fix home.”

Sonic pulls away and laughs nervously “home? This is home.”

Shadow takes a deep breath trying to keep himself together “you’re wrong. Hold this. Maybe it will ring a bell.”

Shadow places a chaos emerald in Sonics hands.

Sonic is shoved through multiple memories at once, every friend, every battle, every hope and dream is all coming back to him.

Sonic snaps out of it. He slowly turns to Nine who has a look of serious remorse. As if he knows the jig is up.

“Sonic… I’m sorry.”

“Sorry’s not gonna cut it. I don’t even know who you are anymore. Let’s go, Shadow.”

Shadow and Sonic use chaos control to go hunt down some shards. Shadow has taken Nine’s shard, practically stranding him on The Grim. He claims it’s so he can think about what he did.

And think he does! Nine hits a serious low mentally. He’s given up. This is all his fault. If only he had helped instead of being so selfish, Sonic wouldn’t hate him. And maybe the war would be over by now.

Which is why he’s shocked that after a month, Sonic shows back up.

“Come on, Nine. We’re taking you home.” Sonic approaches Nine who turns away, unable to look him in the eyes “why even bother? I ruined everything. I deserve to stay here alone.”

Sonic sighs “look. You still have time to change. I won’t forgive you for what you did, but I still care for you, no matter how dumb you or Shadow may think it is. New Yoke City has entered a new era, and I want you to be there for it. I think.. that’s the new world you wanted so badly.”

Nine considers, but shakes his head “no. I don’t deserve redemption either.”

Sonic starts wandering around, collecting Nine’s stuff and shoving it into the ship. He plugs the shard back in. Then he picks up Nine and plonks him back in “I want the best for you, and living in a wasteland isn’t cutting it, buddy.”

Nine sheds some tears “ah.. you were right. Your kindness is your own detriment.” He doesn’t want to be at The Grim anymore.

Sonic chuckles. He has no idea how this ship works, but he figures it out.

Nine soon finds himself under a blue sky. He’s back in the city, but everyone is happier and celebrating the fall of the Chaos Council.

Sonic is welcomed back by Knucks, Rebel, and Shadow.

The prism is nearly complete.

Nine, in an effort to try out redemption, builds a system that can place together the shards at the same time. He’s shocked when he’s praised.

Sonic and Shadow say their goodbyes to the others. Sonic eventually gets to Nine. He crouches down to meet his eyes “Nine. You’re truly something special. Use that brilliant brain of yours to work towards the world you wanted.” he smiles at him.

Nine sniffles “I don’t deserve your kindness.”

“Yea you do.”

“No I don’t.”

“Yea you do!”

“No! I! Don’t!”

“Yes! You! Do!”

“Sonic?”

“Yea buddy?”

“Will I ever see you again?”

Sonic looks at Nine. He sees the eyes he once knew. The eyes of Miles ‘Nine’ Prower, the brilliant kid who only wanted to be happy.

Sonic shrugs “I dunno, Nine. But if we do meet again.. I’m taking you to get a chilli dog.”

“I look forward to it.”

Sonic then does something truly unexpected. He gives Nine a hug.

The separate and just like that, Sonic and Shadow have returned to their world.

Nine will never forget him.

Sonic believes that everyone deserves peace.

That’s just the kind of guy he is.

[somewherebetweendisorder]

Greek God

Eddie Munson x reader

Warnings: fluff, smut, oral, sexy sex times

A/N: Previously published on my old blog basicallybats. Title and lyrics from Conan Gray's "Greek God." I do not give permission to copy, repost, or use my work in any way. Thanks for reading!

Eddie hates storms. The clouds gathering over Hawkins have his heart rate picking up, nervous energy ticking through his fingers which tap an unsteady beat against the doorframe. He fumbles for the pack of cigarettes in his pocket, reaching blindly for his lighter, itching for something to soothe his nerves, contemplating heading over to your house. It's just a rainstorm, he doesn't want to appear pathetic, doesn't want you to think he's a loser for being unable to handle a little rain.

He flicks the lighter on, bringing it closer to the cigarette dangling haphazardly from his lips, eyes focused on the clouds that seem to get darker with each passing second. He hisses when he feels the flame lick at his finger, deciding yes, he's going to your house.

Smoke still hanging from his mouth he pulls the front door shut behind him, locking it before jogging down the steps and starting towards your house. Eddie curses the sky, the gathering storm on his left, the dying day to his right, mocking him with the last pretty shades of pink and blue. Walking faster, he hopes the rain holds out, wishes his van wasn't in the shop.

There's no warning drizzle, no introduction to the storm, the sky unleashes all at once, harsh fat raindrops pouring down, saturating the dry ground, soaking his clothes, his hair, blinding him. Eddie breathes deep, taking in the smell, earthy and something else, something heady almost pleasant despite his hatred towards the wet seeping out of the atmosphere.

Lightning flashes above, cutting the world into purple and white shards, illuminating the two-toned leaves, shadows catching on the wind whipped foliage the way light should be. The rain picks up, and Eddie wants to run, wants to be in the comfort of your warm house, sunny walls and fairy lights surrounding him like the scent of orchids, permanent to your room.

Thunder peels overhead, loud, echoing through the empty space, rattling his bones, confirming his decision to be next to you as soon as possible. When the door to your duplex is in sight Eddie sighs in relief, shoulders sagging as he staggers up the steps to your small porch which offers little security from the storm. Using his key, he lets himself in, toeing off his sopping Reeboks, scowling at the mud caked on his white sneakers, muttering to himself as he makes his way down the hall towards your room.

He hears you before he sees you, sweet voice intoxicating him, making the trek over more worth it than he expected, soothing his nerves.

"I don't really like how you never shut up, 'cause you got dirt on everyone." He pauses in your doorway, his eyes falling on your form naturally like you're all he was ever meant to see.

"And since you always swear that you wanted me gone, then why don't you go get your gun?"

You're pulling on your jacket, stepping into your shoes, hips swaying gently with the music, voice sweet, not quite hitting the notes, but striking something deep within him, awakening a desire to experience this scene for the rest of his life. You look up, shoulders jerking in surprise, breath catching interrupting your song. The shock quickly dissolves into relief as you rush him, arms wrapping tight around him, knocking the air out of his lungs in the best way.

"I was getting ready to come to you."

The admission falls from your lips with little grace, whispered like it's some great secret, but said clumsily like you're unsure it was the right thing to say.

The sentiment has his throat closing up, eyes squinting against the happy yellow ambiance of your space as he squeezes you tighter, nose burrowing into your pineapple scent-tinged hair.

"S'nice out. Thought I'd walk," Eddie manages, voice tight.

You pull back enough to look up at him, eyes giving away the sea of emotions swirling around inside of you. Pleased he's here, sorry you were too slow to make it to him before he had to come to you. "Oh, Eds."

Your sigh invades his head, pierces his lingering misery, shattering it, settling on his tongue like something sweet, treacly. He wants to taste it. You take his weight, arms slipping around his neck, fingers sliding into the damp waves at the base of his neck, lips parting beneath his. He wants more, likes the way you whimper into his mouth, likes the way the sound tastes.

"Eds, you're soaked. Get changed, yeah?"

"Do I have to?"

"Yes."

Your brows are lifted in a challenge, daring him to argue, to defy you. He knows he won't, you know he won't, but it's a fun game, all the same, testing the other's dominance. He likes when you bite.

"Fine. Fine, mind if I shower too?" He's already pulling away, missing the warmth of your skin against his chilled flesh, making his way to your dresser, tugging open his drawer, rings clinging softly against the handle.

"No, you know I don't."

You're straightening up your desk when he turns around, hair shiny beneath the little lights flickering around your room. He watches as you absentmindedly shove the loose strands back from your face, tying them up with the hair tie on your wrist, muscles in your arms flexing as you do.

"How will you survive while I'm gone?"

"I'm sure I'll manage." Your smile has him nodding, suddenly in a hurry to be done and back by your side.

"Alright, don't have too much fun without me."

The second the bathroom door closes, Eddie strips off his clothes, tossing them into a wet pile, wincing when they hit the tile with a squelch. You'd hate it, and he promises himself he'll make sure the bathroom is as neat as he found it.

Your water gets warmer than it does at his trailer, something he appreciates, takes advantage of when he stays over. The scalding water pounds down on his head, his back, easing away most of the stress but none of the tension. His stomach feels pinched, a warm heat blossoming in his gut, spreading outwards, making it impossible to focus on anything but the thought that you're down the hall waiting for him.

He reaches for his growing arousal, desperate, needy, wanting you, before fisting his hands on his hair. He's here, you're here. Is it wrong to assume he can have you? He doesn't want to assume. He chokes on the steam, clears his throat, turns the water off before he can second guess himself.

He gets halfway through toweling off the rivulets of water cascading down his body before giving up and pulling on clean boxers and sweatpants, moving on to harshly scrubbing the towel over his head. His eyes fall on the shirt still laying on the cold countertop, he doesn't want to put it on, doesn't want to miss an inch of your skin that may touch his. God, why is he like this?

Eddie moves to hang up the towel, gaze falling on a large hole at the hem, fingering the frayed strands, pulling until one grows impossibly long and snaps off.

"Shit, sorry,' he apologizes to no one in particular, feeling bad for causing further harm to your towel, rolling the string up into a tight ball before tossing it into the wastebasket. He steels himself, eyes shut so tight he can see colors bouncing around the blackness, and his eyes begin to ache.

He finds you standing on your desk chair, balancing on your tip toes, winding a strand of fake sunflowers around the fairy lights lining your window, the ratty old band tee you're wearing riding up, exposing the soft flesh of your stomach. His eyes follow the gentle curve, the silken flesh catching in the light, glowing with a pastel shine, an ethereal aura. Your shorts are short, the shortest he's ever seen you in he's sure, and the supple flesh of your thighs, your naked legs that never seem to end are dragging his thoughts further into the gutter.

"More flowers?"

His voice breaks your reverie, and you come down awkwardly on your heels. "It's not that many more," you mutter defensively.

"It looks like a forest threw up in here, baby girl."

You both look around, taking in the little mushroom shelves lining one of your walls, the moss on the mirror, the flowers wrapped carefully around your bedframe and window. "Well, I like it."

Your voice rings with finality, and Eddie likes it, likes seeing you needlessly defend your style, he likes it too, nearly as much as he likes to tease you. Truthfully, it's comforting, some odd sphere that you exist in outside of reality. Your arms come down to your sides, shirt falling back down, and he's closing the space, hands settling underneath the thin fabric, resting hotly, heavily on your waist.

You look down on him, wondering what's going on in that overly pretty head of his, hair still damp from his shower, skin pale and shiny, smelling faintly of your body wash. You can't help the smile that starts curling on your lips, faintly aware of the song you've had on repeat once again starting over. He notices too, you can see it in his eyes as he cocks his head to the side as though to hear it better.

"Again?"

"I like it. Gives me mad vibes."

Eddie chuckles, shaking his head, tugging you off the chair with ease that would impress you if you weren't hyperaware of the naked expanse of flesh he's pulling you into. He's warm, almost unbearably so, setting your skin on fire.

"Whatever you say. I like it better when you sing it."

Heat crawls up your neck, staining your cheeks the prettiest shade of pink Eddie has ever seen. His hands come up to bracket your neck, barren, rings left forgotten on your bathroom counter. His thumbs brush over your cheeks, enjoying the feel of your skin, soft underneath his calloused fingers, silky and warm. He kisses the gentle arch of your eyebrows, down your nose, hot breath fanning your face, leaving you dizzy. He smells like cigarettes and rain, and it has you wondering if it's really a good idea for him to be here like this, right now. As of yet, he hasn't had you how you want him to, something like fear and insecurity holding you back from whispering the words into his lips, the foolish questions lingering on your tongue, overly salty.

"Don't make fun of me," you finally manage, voice wavering with thinly veiled emotion.

"I'm not. I love your voice. It's too good to not hear. I always want-"

Your eyes widen at the implication his words are rushing towards, and he can see the wonder mounting behind the curiosity in your gaze. He stops, looks away, finds your face again in the nearly fictitiously perfect backdrop, flowers and lush green moss, painting you to be a fairy, a nymph, something too good to be true. Something too good for him.

"I always enjoy hearing you sing." The words fall short of their original meaning, having been edited to the point of misunderstanding, but you're sure you know what he was going to say. You let it go, pulling his lips down to yours, searching the dark little places in your soul, shadows and puddles, for your courage, sure that it must be hiding somewhere. His lips are questioning, hesitant, he's battling some demon you can't quite see, and it has your heart aching, making it harder to ask, to want.

"What's going on in your head, Eddie?"

He retreats further, physically pulling back, breath coming hard and fast, little puffs of air ruffling the loose strands of hair around your face. His hands tighten around your waist, slide up to grip your arms, eyes earnest on yours.

"Too much. Sorry I- I'm good, I swear."

You touch his jaw, pleading with him to relax, soften, melt in your hands, and be happy. "Eddie. You're doing that thing again. Where you think you're being too rough or too much, and you disappear entirely."

You plant a gentle kiss on his cheek, the tip of his nose, the corner of his mouth. "I want you."

There's not an ounce of bravado in your voice. No confidence, no provocative hint, just words spoken hushed into his skin. It's enough for him, too much for Eddie, pulling the air from his lungs with a painful rush.

"Fuck, Y/N, don't- You can't say things on my account-"

"That's a very bold assumption. I'm not saying anything for you. It's for me. I want you. I want to touch you, feel you… Taste you. Selfishly."

Eddie gulps, and he swears the sound fills the room, drowns out the music, booms over his racing heart, he's sure you hear it, but you show no sign that you did. How often has he imagined this moment, some fantasy playing out over and over in his mind, coming together now better than he ever could have hoped. Maybe it only feels better because it's real, it's happening, he can feel your chest flush with his, heart beating faster than ever.

"Please do. Fucking hell, whatever you want s'yours, baby."

Your sucking in a breath, taking in the last of the oxygen in the room, your chest rising, grazing his, pulling a growl from deep in his throat, the guttural noise pouring gasoline over the fire. You couldn't walk this back if you wanted to. That's the last thing you want.

The only thing on your mind, on Eddie's mind, is more, more skin, more lips, more hands finally free to touch every smooth plane of skin, trace every curve. He wastes no time, lifting the hem of your shirt, pulling it up up up, easing it over your head, and throwing it over his shoulder. The action has the desire pooling in your gut, threatening to overflow.

"Eddie."

His name comes out in a whine, a sound that inflates his ego with hot air, a pitiful sound that has you blushing the moment the word leaves your lips. "What is it, gorgeous? What do you need?"

His teasing has your eyes flashing, fingers digging harshly into his shoulders. This isn't a game, he knows that, he doesn't mean to tease, he just likes the way your dissolving in his hands, sticky sweet, already trembling, and he's hardly touched you. He lets his eyes wander down to your nearly naked chest, choking on air at the sight of your breasts covered by only a white lacy bra, dotted with cherries. It's cute, it's you. He likes it.

You want to cover yourself, resist the urge, dig your nails deeper into his flesh, too excited and anxious all at once, surrounded by newness. Eddie sinks to his knees, closing the gap, making him eye level with your chest, a smile tugging at his lips. He pays no mind to your painful hold on his shoulders, leaning forward to place a reverent kiss to the swell of your breast, watching your eyes for confirmation that this is okay, that you still want this. Your lips part, eyes blown wide with lust and something else, something he's afraid to assume when the words haven't left your lips.

"S'this okay?"

Hot breath fans your skin, warding away the goosebumps, and you can only manage a nod, fingers slipping up into his hair, pulling gently, tipping his head back. His lips move over the stupid little cherries at a torturous pace, entirely too much fabric between his mouth and your skin. His fingers settle with a feathery touch on your ankle, ghosting up your leg, a barely there touch that's more ticklish than it is satisfying. A chill crawls up your spine, tingling across the back of your neck, egging him on.

Fingertips coast up your thighs, brush the hem of your shorts, inch up higher and higher until he's walking his fingers up your butt to the waistband of your shorts, pulling away just enough to look at your face.

"Do it."

At your approval, he's rushing forward, pulling them down, tongue tracing the valley between your breasts.

"You're wearing too many clothes," you hiss, wanting more of his skin on yours, desperate to have him bare before you.

"That's your opinion."

"Eddie, I'm fuckin' serious. Take off your damn clothes."

He huffs a laugh, standing before you get any more upset, tugging off his sweatpants, leaving him in only red and black plaid boxers. You reach for the band, snapping it against his skin, giggling, hands retreating from his form to card roughly through your hair.

"What's wrong?" he asks, worried you're having second thoughts.

"Nothing. You're taking forever, touch me, please."

"You're not going to turn into a pumpkin at midnight, babe. Slow down. S'not a race."

You brace your hands on his chest, fingers twitching when you feel his heart, thumping quickly against your palm. It excites you, that he's as worked up as you are, his own hands shaking as they find your hips, trail up, around to your back, toying with the clasps of your bra.

An experienced hand would easily unhook your bra, let it fall down your arms to the floor. Eddie's hands aren't experienced, he fumbles with the clasp for longer than he means to, feeling his cheeks heat with shame when you sigh against his neck, impatient.

You begin to hum the Jeopardy theme song, nails dancing up his biceps, tickling the sensitive flesh, making it harder for him to concentrate.

"Fuck off, Y/N."

"Do this often?"

"I will leave you here. Horny and lonely."

"No, you won't. Look, I'm sorry. I didn't realize this was your first time, okay? I'll be nice."

"It's not my- Forget it."

He steps back, removing his hands, crossing his arms over his chest. "You deal with it. You're the one wearing the damn thing."

You try to hold the laugh back, knowing he's embarrassed, but you're embarrassed too, and the absurdity of the situation gets the better of you, a bemused chuckle tripping off your lips. "Here."

You turn your back to him, making it easier for him to see, his fingers moving quickly to release the hooks, determined to redeem himself in some right. "You're not my first," he mumbles once you turn back around, holding the garment secure over your chest, straps hanging loose around your upper arms.

"Oh. I mean, I kinda figured." His admission is odd, unsolicited, hardly dampens your mood, but makes you wonder what exactly you have to live up to.

"I was sixteen, stoned and I don't remember what she looked like or what her name was."

"Oh."

He shakes his head, rubs the back of his neck, swallows once, then twice before speaking again.

"What I'm trying to say is really, you are my first. Only one that matters. Only one I want. Did I kill the mood? Fuck, now's probably not a good time to have this conversation. I just figured-"

"Shhh." You place your hand over his mouth, eyes crinkling up in affection at his honest rambling. "I get it. It's okay. You're my first. You're the only one for me. 'Kay?"

You don't remove your hand until he nods, and impossibly he loves you more. With extreme caution, you let the bra slip down, exposing your breasts for the first time, watching Eddie's expression, taking note of every emotion as it crosses his face. He takes in every freckle, every faint stretch mark, every inch of skin, swallowing thickly, reaching out to rapturously brush his fingertips across your flesh.

With no warning his lips are on yours, spanning the gap where words would fall short, reverent, awed by how you trust him. He's laying you back against the blankets on your unmade bed, pulling the hair tie from your hair, watching the strands fan out like a messy halo. Nothing has ever been this breathtaking. No song, no gig, no high could ever compare to the sight of you laid out beneath him, waiting with a small smile.

"I love you."

His words hang in the air, heavy and soothing. "Because I'm naked?"

He shakes his head, frowning at your implication.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean that. I'm nervous. I love you more. I've loved you since that time you played guitar over the phone until I fell asleep."

Eddie chuckles at the memory, fingers brushing along your cheekbones fondly. "And I've loved you since you cut me off leaving the record store, and then came to my show at the Hideaway later that same night."

He speaks quietly, like it's a secret, weight settling on you comfortingly, fingers of his free hand tracing the elastic band of your underwear.

"No, you haven't."

"Yes, I have. That was it for me, I was a goner."

"You're an idiot, Eddie Munson."

The words are spoken affectionately, fingers tracing his facial features, brushing the hair out of his face, tapping his nose once, twice, three times, earning a smile.

"Only for you."

His fingers dip below the elastic barrier, shocking you, making you whimper at the foreign pleasure. Eddie tries his best to memorize the sound, wants to keep it safe for later, safe for when he's alone and needs relief, but he settles for drawing the sound of you again, hand slipping lower to cup your heat, wet from your arousal.

"This all for me, baby girl?"

There's that sound again, high pitched and desperate, keening. His middle and marriage fingers trace wide, sweeping circles around your clit, close enough to give you hope for relief, but never where you need him most.

It's driving you insane, has you gripping the blankets, clawing at the fabric, attempting to tether yourself. Eddie watches your face, notes your pinched features, the pleasure building in your eyes, muddying the shades of color.

You're unraveling with every sweep of his digits against your folds, the heat in your abdomen winding tighter and tighter, thin thread on control threatening to snap, pleasure looming. The moment his fingertips brush your clit, you're crying out, gasping his name, trembling from the onslaught of sensations. His fingers on your core, lips on your neck, legs heavy on yours, arousal pressing into your thigh painfully obvious.

Your back arches into the pleasure, vaguely aware of Eddie rutting into your thigh, a hoarse moan building in his throat, muffled by your skin, fingers working you through your high, tracing tight circles over your slick. Eyes closed against the white-hot light of your orgasm, feeling the warmth spread through your body, bones turning to mush, brain-melting to jelly. You're spineless by the time you come back to yourself, only half aware of Eddie's hand retreating from your panties.

"Wow," he whispers, gaze focused on his slick fingers, coated in cum. He moves to lick them clean but your limp grip on his wrist stops him.

"Don't you dare. I can't-Just don't."

Pink dusts the top of your cheeks, more from the aftereffects of your pleasure than embarrassment, but he concedes, settling for dragging your underwear down your thighs, letting you help, pulling one ankle free, kicking them off the other.

He rolls onto his back, lifts his hips to ease his boxers off, tossing them on the floor with the rest of your discarded clothes, and he faces you again. Your eyes trace the edges of his body, trying to let a graceful amount of time pass before your eyes fall on his cock. It's pretty, a large, prominent vein running from his silken mushroom head down to the base. Tentatively, you take him into your hand, thumb tracing his tip, collecting the precum, tracing the vein, attempting to ignore the hiss of air that rushes past his lips, the way he twitches in your gentle grasp.

"I don't have a condom…" you begin, avoiding his gaze, concerned that was the wrong sort of admission for the moment, dick in hand.

"I don't have one either," he manages, jaw clenched at the feeling of your soft hand stroking him, the inevitable disappointment of not quite enough.

"Well, we could skip it. Just this once."

He swears a piece of his soul dies at the mention of this happening again. Never in his wildest dreams did he picture the night ending like this. Maybe, maybe in his wildest, wettest dream, but never could he see it morphing into reality, coming true before him.

"Huh? Y/N, that's how people end up pregnant."

"I know. I know but- Please? Just once?"

"Fuck, you're making it so difficult to say no."

You squeeze to emphasize your next words. "Then don't, Teddy."

The nickname is his undoing, saccharine as it falls from your lips, ensnaring him.

He rolls on top of you, breaking the contact of your hand on him. Doting kisses dropped along your jaw, up to your temple, nose brushing your hairline, breathing you in deep, trying to immortalize the moment, aware of every point where your bodies meet.

His hips slot above yours, bone to bone, forehead to forehead, breath mingling in a collective inhale of anticipation, his tip pressing against your heat, skin tingling.

"You ready?"

"Yeah."

The pain of that initial stretch has you whimpering, arching away in surprise. Eddie's eyes are wide, panicked at your reaction, following you with murmured sweet nothings, fingers lacing with yours.

"Do you want me to stop?"

"No. No, just go slow."

he does, so slow, reigning in his own pleasure, muscles rigid, arms trembling in poorly restrained want.

"You can move."

"You sure, baby?"

You don't answer, shaking his hands off, wrapping your arms around his back, fingers bumping over his spine, urging him closer wordlessly. A silent plea. His large hand covers your thigh, pulling it up over his hip, experimenting to find what you like, what has your breath hitching and your eyes rolling back.

You meet his eyes, the deep brown so dark, pupils blown so wide with lust you can't distinguish the difference. Intoxicated on Eddie, surrounded y him, filled by him, high on his skin, his lips, bodies moving together, sticky with sweat.

His moan catches you off guard, the sweetest sound you've ever heard

You're opening your mouth, ready to ask him to do it again when his fingers find their way to your clit, rubbing eager, sloppy circles, pushing you closer to the edge.

"Oh, fuck, Eds."

"You close?"

"Y-yes."

He thrusts harder, faster, grip on your thigh bruising, sure to leave pretty marks on the doughy flesh to trace tomorrow. His lips find your neck again, sucking fervently, teeth skidding along your throat, stifling his sweet voice.

The overload of Eddie has you writhing, body going stiff before the second wave of euphoria washes over you, threatening to drown, the danger of the riptide lapping at your frayed sense.

"Eddie."

The pleasure dripping off your tongue pushes Eddie off the cliff, has him freefalling at the taste of it on your tongue. He can feel it on his oversensitive skin. He thrusts deep, a shiver snaking up his spine, shaking his shoulders, lips parted, your name filling the space between you with a choked moan before he's sagging against you, thoroughly spent.

Eddie has no clue where you begin and he ends, an indistinct, messy tangle of limbs and bare skin, glowy with armory and satisfaction.

"I love you, Eddie."

"I love you more, Y/N."

Fingers trace skin, his, yours, it's all the same, all hot and soft, every touch magnified, different, and yet more same than ever before. A new familiarity sits between you, free of any inhibition or insecurity.

Finally, Eddie breaks the silence. "Let's get you cleaned up."

You follow him down the hall, never breaking contact, his fingers wrapped loosely around your wrist, flicking on lights as he goes.

You sit on the ledge of the tub as Eddie turns on the faucet, waiting for the water to warm up, testing the temperature every few seconds with a cautious finger. Once he deems it warm enough he soaks the washcloth under the stream, stepping over to you.

Tugging you to your feet, he plants a gentle kiss on your clammy skin, running the cloth along your body, wiping away sweat before trailing lower, removing any evidence of himself. He repeats the process on himself, far less gentle, tossing the rags into the laundry hamper. He moves around your small bathroom easily, grabbing your toothbrush and his from the cup next to the sink, wetting the bristles before passing you yours, squeezing a glob of toothpaste out, smiling at you sheepishly when you shake your head in bemusement.

You can't tolerate the distance between you, stand and step closer to him, pretending to be engrossed in the simple task of brushing your teeth, even as your pinky finger seeks his out, curling around his. Eddie brings your joined hands to his mouth, kissing your knuckles, wincing at the smear of foamy toothpaste he leaves behind. You rinse it off, smiling at him in your reflection.

He gestures to your skincare products on the counter with a shrug. "I can never remember which order you use 'em in."

You line them up for him and he sets to work, dabbing careful little dots onto your skin like he's watched you do countless times before working t into your skin in gentle circles, caressing your face.

This isn't the first time, but it feels different, new. You stand on tiptoes, kiss his lips once, twice when he's finished, bare chest grazing his before you pull him back to your room. carelessly rummaging around in your dresser for pajamas, you keep your back to him as he pulls his boxers and sweatpants back on.

Eddie pulls the covers down, unplugging the fairy lights as you tug on the stolen tee shirt of his you found. Clicking off the radio, you join him in bed, curling into his side, a perfect fit. In the still, you realize the rain continues to pound down on the roof, the steady thrum soothing.

His eyes are heavy with exhaustion, lips slack on your temple, a tender reassurance, an unspoken testament of love. You let the silence go unbroken, hand resting on his chest, head on his shoulder, shallow breaths washing over his neck.

"G'night, Teddy."

"Night, love. Sweet dreams."

You stay like that until sleep pulls you under, lulled by the rain and Eddie's warmth, his arms secure around you.

[reaper-bloodmoon]

(Inky Space) Visiting Lake's Multiverse

Lake, after finally having gotten home from being stuck in Dark Sun's pocket dimension, had decided to chill on the couch and watch an anime they had recently started watching, Dungeon Meshi. That was until they heard a very loud "thunk" from outside their living room window.

"Who the fu...?" Lake questioned as they paused the episode they were on and walked over to the front door.

When they opened it, their expression shifted to a deadpan look. Seems that Nexus had decided it would be a great idea to follow after them not long after they left.

"Why did you follow me, Nex?" Lake leaned on the doorway and crossed their arms as Nexus got to their feet, dusting off his clothes.

"Well...honestly I got curious about what your home dimension was like, I didn't think it would be another multiverse." Nexus glanced around the neighborhood that they were currently in.

"Certainly seems more peaceful than my multiverse, no star power and wither shards..." Nexus continued, finding himself fascinated by the current peaceful air.

"Oh please, this place is anything but." Lake rolled their eyes and jabbed a thumb towards the right at a pretty massive house where some shenanigans were taking place.

What was exactly happening, well a short rabbit with a blue tint was trying to properly use his psychic abilities even though he was failing. There was a giant black furred bunny on top of the roof trying to grab a white-furred bear child, along with another black furred bunny with a red tint this time panicking while being t-posed on by yet another black-furred bunny, though this one had a golden yellow tint to them instead and seemed to be shouting some things that sounded kinda cringey.

"Shut up, Smiley, da baby's on da roof!" The bunny with the red tint yelled at the bunny with the yellow tint, his Japanese accent being heavy.

"Oh calm down, Brandy, Elaine's an expert at roof walking!" The yellow tinted bunny stopped t-posing for a moment, his smile never going away.

"Still ain't safe for her, Gold!" The giant black-furred bunny's voice boomed from up on the roof, having managed to grab Elaine a.k.a. the white-furred bear.

"But it's super swaggy cool!" Gold derped his eyes, making everyone in the vicinity cringe, including Lake and Nexus.

"Ugh, I didn't think I'd cringe like that for awhile." Nexus facepalmed, the fact Lake had that guy as a neighbor made him feel bad for the toon.

"Oh he's not the worst thing to deal with, I'd be more concerned with Burado and Black over there." Lake transformed their tail into an arm, pointing it at the red tinted bunny when they said the first name then the giant black-furred bunny when saying the second name. They then turned their tail back to normal.

"Why should I be concerned with those two? I could easily crush them beneath my heel!" Nexus laughed and clenched his fist, his uncanny grin seeming to get wider.

"Well Burado's a demigod and Black's a dark matter elemental...could also snap your body in half." Lake explained bluntly, dashing Nexus' hopes and smug attitude about the whole thing.

"Heh...eheheh....please, I'm not afraid, I've pissed off astrals before, what would make those two so different?" Nexus tried to dismiss the idea that these two could crush him instead.

"Don't come crying to me if you ever get your ass kicked by them, I warned you." Lake sighed and went back inside, Nexus swiftly following in.

"Your ceilings are super high..." Nexus pointed out, running his hand along the support beams.

"Well humans aren't the dominant species in this multiverse, so ceilings being extremely high is the standard now." Lake went back to laying on their couch and started playing the Dungeon Meshi episode, going back to watching it.

Lake's words echoed in Nexus' mind, humans aren't the dominant species in this multiverse....well, if the whole thing with Dark Sun didn't work out, he could always move to this multiverse. He then decided to flop himself on top of Lake, letting out whirring noises that sounds similar to a cat purring. Lake made a poker face as now they scooted back a little so they could actually see their TV without being completely crushed by Nexus.

"Ugh, you're just like a giant cat." Lake rolled their eyes and was pretty much stuck holding onto Nexus like he was indeed a giant cat.

"Aw, don't like it, puppy-dog?" Nexus teased, rubbing his faceplate against Lake's cheek.

"I don't like you flopping on top of me you dickhead-" Lake growled, his ears flattening against the top of his head.

"Too bad, deal with it." Nexus purred, comfortably laying on top of Lake.

Lake groaned as they were once again stuck with Nexus acting like a giant cat, the only difference being that this was their home multiverse.

[semi-imaginary-place]

more ffxiv 5.0 begining of the end

I went and did the role quests and how much time passed between ardbert & co going to the source and returning? because didn't like a lot of time pass over on the First. I need to pull up a timeline but potentially they were gone for decades or there was a significant amount of time between when they unbalanced the light aether and left and when they returned with minfilia and the flood happened.

I still think the talos was a stupid idea but i think talos in general are horrendously inefficient. like the writers clearly wanted a plot point where everyone you met along the way all come together to help but this could have been better done.

feo ul's the only real one

g'raha finally getting to put all his sharlayan political and society philosophy to use to build a uptopia. crystalarium: KING! KING! KING!

oh this is the timetravel i got spoiled on and then immediately shut my brain off about. because 14 shards wasn't confusing enough they had to add multiple timelines. writers suffering from other writers decisions. yous see i'm pretty sure the 2.x writers who made ardbert and the warriors of darkness made them as an exact copy of wol and co. but then the 5.0 writers come along and were like what if the shards aren't exact copies but instead just have some similarities. because if the 5.0 writers hadn't done that they could have just said this is a g'raha from another shard. but anyways timetravel to give the crystal exarch a personal connection to the player character.

so there's a timeline where the 7th and 8th umbral calamities happen within like 2 years of each other. wow things got so bad cid decided to time rewind (yaaa it's rewind time) instead of trying to fix things. 200 years to get time travel up and running? pretty sure you could have just fixed the source or used the crystal tower to fix the present instead of time travel. 200 years of umbral era to wake the crystal tower then send g'raha to the past where he ends up 100 years ago on the first.

hinging this entire 300 year plan on the player character seems really flimsy, like do you have a back up?? why can't others with the blessing of light also kill sin eaters. why not just do what guns did for swords make a weapon anyone can use to permanently kill sin eaters. actually if sin eaters are just the light equivalent of voidsent why hasn't the source been having the same killing problems with voidsent, ie if injured by one you turn into a voidsent and if you kill a pwoerful one you become a voidsent. Or maybe that only happens in the void/13th in which case why didn't killing Cloud of Darkness do anything. another question is if the light enemies in amdapoor are sine eaters. they use the same model but don't seem to have the same characteristic problems as sin eaters.

so doma fell in the 8th umbral calamity. also shb reveals that the umbral calamities have been from the shards rejoining (interesting that they rejoin the Source and not equally redistribute among the other Shards) but to the general populace they probably can't tell the 7th umbral calamity from the 8th after all all the others have lasted like centuries so for all they know this is a continuation of the 7th and bahamut. i need to go look this up i can't remember if the 13th as been rejoined like if a shard is rejoined does it "disappear" ie you can't visit it anymore.

wasn't the whole point that you can't do that they either just jumps to the next person. well he was trying to open a hole into another dimension or something, don't know why we couldn't have done that to begin with.

damn jp ardbert just flat out says "you're beyond saving"

what did we even go into the umbilicus for? lyna said she had orders not to let anyone in unless an army of sineaters was descending upon the city so she broke that. it's suppose to... something about connecting to the heart of the tower and starting defenses. but the player character didn't know they were going to get a plot important echo in that room so why did we go there? it'd be one thing if it was to snoop on the exarch like in gameplay have us rummage around his diary or something, but that didn't happen. yeah i think we were there to snoop but the devs didn't show any snooping.

"I'm a danger to all around me" wow we are really having this whole conversation right in front of the zun.

speaking of feo ul, aren't they our (big) little deux ex machina plot breaking miracle worker. can't they get us to the bottom of the ocean

urianger's smart idea is to go by sleeping whale? you know the Source is a freshwater lake and the tempest is in the saltwater ocean right

so yeah giant ancient fae whale bismark. isn't titania king of the fae or was it just pixies?

yup literally plot breaking.

flying whale! how are we getting back?

just gonna ignore that making a giant air bubble would kill everything down here either in creation or through subsequent desiccation.

wow we really wrecked the sahagin (or what was the name on the first?) home. they are taking the change in environment far too well. and one of them wants to grow oranges... they're focused on light yes but you have a bigger problem: salt.

wasn't the whole deal with limsa's war with the sahagin over satansha that sahagin young need air and land.

[anthropictales]

Turns out, the Voice is not a toy.

"OI, SHUT YER GOB!" the imperial called out, glaring back at the stranger. The stranger narrowed their eyes. "I have one word for you, fashy boy." they said, then their mouth moved, but Ralof didn't hear it.

[]

Ralof's ears rang, his head felt full of wool, the world faded in and out.

He gingerly pulled his bound hands up, flicking his fingers clumsily and muzzily hissing out the words to the basic Heal everyone learned as kids.

It took him two tries before he finally got the words out well enough that the warm, sunny light of healing swept from his hands into his head, closing his eardrums, ever so slowly pulling the blood back and stabilizing his brain in his skull.

He sat up. the cart was in pieces, and in the distance he heard screaming horses, and Ulfric was carefully cutting his bonds on a piece of shrapnel.

The horse thief was dragging himself to his feet, hands also pulsing with healing light and shaking his head.

Ulfric was only now bringing his free hands and the shard of cart timber to the gag, sawing it off carefully. He frowned, confused.

Ralof found the stranger. they were knelt in the verge of the wooded track, staring at a body.

the cart driver. it wasn't a pretty sight.

The stranger looked pale, and the smell told him they had been violently sick.

Signs of spellshock. he walked up to them.

They stared, silently at the body. he rested a hand gently on their shoulder.

"First time you've killed someone?" he murmured gently.

they nodded.

"Deep breaths. it was him or us, you know that, yes?" they nodded once. emphatically.

"Good. he'd not have had the same courtesy." Ralof said. he glanced back. Ulfric was already cutting the horse thief loose.

"Right now, though, we have to get moving. the imperials will be back, with reinforcements." he said.

"And I must ask, where did you learn the Voice?" Ulfric asked, walking up to them.

the kid laughed. "I was certain just saying the word wouldn't work but... I can feel it. now I know what to look for." they said, voice shaky.

"Like your mind is made of snow, and the words like stones, sunk deep." Ulfric said. "There is a reason none who know the Voice use it save at need. Did you study with the greybeards?" he asked.

"Oh G... by the Nine, that is one hell of a story." they shakily stood. "You all have the phrase, 'extraordinary claims require extraordinary proof'?" they turned and faced Ulfric.

"Or words to that effect." Ulfric rumbled.

"We need to get to somewhere we can see Helgen. I'll tell you the whole story, once I have some kind of proof." they said.