#Me: THAT MEANS IT CAN LIKELY MAKE AMMO AS WELL

[mayohigan-orange]

"...Wait! I just realized!"

"That shapeshifting knife... I could use it to make a bow and arrows, or a staff!"

"..."

"WHY DIDN'T I THINK OF THIS BEFORE?!?"

[methoughtsphantom]

Jason “my family doesn’t know im alive” Todd and Danny “my family doesn’t know I’m dead” Fenton going alongside each of their plans my beloved. like Danny will absolutely go head-to-head with all of Gotham to support his new best friend on all his crime lord endeavors while he drags Jason to also attend collage with him. They are roommates and there never seems to a mention of family from either side. It’s an unspoken understanding they have. They met because Crime alley as a ghost lair thrummed with so much loneliness, it was at first the perfect place for Danny to hide his ecto signature in. But then he saw the dumbass whose lair it was lean his motorcycle just a tad too much when making a sharp turn to an alley, he sweeped the floor through a lifted chain link that passed his body but not his helmet. Yep that’s right the red thing got stuck. Danny who at the moment happened to be watching through his window snorted. Much to his horror because if not a ghost that dude could’ve gotten his head flung off.

Still, the scene was ridiculous.

On a whim he irrationally sees the police closing in on the guy and panicked at the thought of the guy using intangibility to free himself so Danny phased them both through his apartment wall and left the guy sprawled in his couch. Jason didn’t freak out but that’s normal when one’s got a concussion, one the guy immediately denied having as Danny laid out the medical supplies. The idiot proceeded to almost flatten four steps to the door with his stubbornness. He also said “I’m asexual” in the most deadpan voice as Danny dropped him back in the couch.

Danny sighed. Clearly though, he’d done so too early in the night because the guy kept trying to go, kept trying to knock Danny out, kept trying to slash him with knifes Danny didn’t know he had stashed. He’d only disarmed the guy from his guns. The visible ones apparently, cause at one point the guy did take out a gun and shoot until the ammo ran out and then teetered the thing like it was an art prop and hit his moon lamp.

Danny "yeah you aren’t officially my friend until you’ve tried to kill me" fenton my guys.

Anyways both keep having the same argument over if Danny technically kidnapped Jason or not. Danny holds the fact that the police at least didn’t see the guy make the ridicule. Jason argued that happened cause he was sporting a concussion. Danny argued he got that after.

Jason at first thinks the guy's a meta, but no. Danny introduces himself, sheepily now that he recognizes this is who the lair he invaded is from. He bandages him and tries to cook for him. If Danny didn’t have ice powers he most certainly would’ve burned the apartment. Jason then proceeds to kick him out of his own kitchen and make them both enchiladas. It’s the most normal both had in a while with another person and the air seems oddly settled. From then on, Jason constantly invited himself over, under the pretense that this was his territory and therefore he could drop in unannounced. Danny who has actual powers says he only allows this because Jason cooks very well.

Danny stays away from the crime fighting business unless his buddy is in deep shit he can’t get himself out. Also it’s Danny’s turn to cover for his vigilante friend which Sam and Tucker give him so much shit for. (but also advice)

And they were roommates. (omg) Danny effectively derails Jason’s big comeback plans by casually dropping ghost lore every two days. Like,

Jason, talking about how he doesn’t want Bats snooping on his territory:

Danny: Just don’t let them in

Jason: ??

Danny: yeah!! Hasn’t Batman died and got revived??? You can totally kick out death touched people you don’t want entering on your lair.

Jason: …I can?

Danny: Yep dude, your lair’s supposed to feel safe.

Jason: wait does that mean I can kick you out?

Danny: First this is my apartment. Second, im dead, not dead touched. Third, it’s too late to get rid of me. bitch.

Anyways Jason is super excited. You mean to tell him he can actually deny people over to his territory haunt?? (Yes it’s only to people who have died and came back but still!! The sample size is exactly the type of people he doesn’t want to see—!)

Joker my beloathed can’t step foot in Crime Alley.

(Jason’d feel a lot safer if the clown was dead but the possibility of his murderer turning into a ghost and their little loophole not applying on the clown is too scary to contemplate.)

Anyways, Jason loves experimenting with the power. It can go from simply making people shudder and not want to enter crime Alley to straight up not letting them enter like there’s an invisible wall blocking the way.

Jason because he’s hurt that Bruce never even patrols Crime Alley and also because he’s petty put B under the category of “invisible wall” blacklist. His reasoning is that the man doesn’t even attempt to enter Crime Alley. To him it’s surely just a place shadowed in tragedy. (anyways that’s it’s the place he met Jason)

Ironically, Jason totally forgets that Batman does venture into Crime Alley one day in the whole year. The day he met Jason.

Okay. He didn’t forget at first. The first year Jason remembers cause it was only a few months till then but then the next— Jason forgets that today’s the anniversary of the day’s Bruce’s parents died. He forgets to allow B in when he feels a slight tug and dismiss the feeling that prompts Bruce to investigate because he literally can’t enter Crime Alley. He starts the trialsTM, he scouts on the very edge and sees people the whole day enter and get out and cross with no problem but Bruce can’t.

It’s literally just Bruce.

Time to call Constantine, i guess.

[dreamykira]

One Way or Another I IN-HO x reader

˗ˏˋREQUEST ´ˎ˗

���┈➤ Hi I hope you're doing well! Can I please request In-ho x female reader where she's a player and he becomes obsessed with her during his time as Young-il? During the rebellion, when Dae-ho fails to bring the ammo, she takes on the role and arrives on time to see In-ho's moment of betrayal. And from there, he decides to just remove her from the game and keep her with himself. It would be all the better if it was angsty with a touch of manipulative In-ho. @androgynous-lady

˗ˏˋWARNINGS ´ˎ˗

╰┈➤ Betrayal, mentions of blood and killing, Dae-Ho has a panic attack. SPOILERS!!!! English is not my first language:)

˗ˏˋAUTHOR'S NOTE ´ˎ˗

╰┈➤ hello again:) im kind of in my writers era or smth cos i have no clue how i've managed to post three fics in three days. i hope i can keep the streak going for longer. ALSOOOO this came out longer than i expected and im kind of inspired to write a part two of what happens when in-ho and reader meet again soooooo..... that means that i might turn this into a multi-part series. thats ofc if you guys like it and are interested in it.

word count: 1465

Pt. 2

The tension in the dormitory was suffocating. The players sat in clusters, whispering among themselves, the weight of what was to come pressing down on them like a storm cloud. Soon, the plan would be set in motion.

But for now, there was still time.

And yet, it didn’t feel like enough.

“Are you sure you have to go?” you murmured, your fingers curling into the fabric of Young-il’s sleeve.

He paused, gun in hand, eyes flickering toward you. Then, with a quiet sigh, he reached out and cupped your face, his thumb tracing gently over your cheek. The softness of the gesture felt at odds with the world you were trapped in.

“You know I do,” he said, voice low, steady.

You swallowed. “Then let me come with you.”

A small smile ghosted over his lips, but there was something sad about it. “No,” he said simply.

Your grip tightened. “Why not?”

His hands slid down to your shoulders, his touch warm, grounding. “Because I need you here. I need to know you’re safe.”

Safe.

The word felt meaningless in this place.

You searched his eyes, hoping—praying—for something, anything, that would make this easier. But all you saw was quiet determination.

He was going. And there was nothing you could do to stop him.

Your breath hitched as a lump formed in your throat. “Promise me you’ll come back.”

He exhaled through his nose, almost like he was amused by your doubt. “I will.”

“You don’t know that.”

At that, his expression shifted—something unreadable passing through his eyes. Then, before you could react, he leaned in, pressing a quick, lingering kiss to your lips.

The world around you faded. Just for a second.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours. “I will,” he murmured, “one way or another.”

Something about the way he said it sent a shiver down your spine. But before you could dwell on it, he was already stepping away. Already slipping through the door.

And you were left standing there, his words echoing in your mind.

One way or another.

✧˚ · .

Gunfire echoed through the maze-like corridors of the facility as the armed players made their move, pushing forward with relentless desperation. It was chaos.

Hyun-Ju ducked behind cover as bullets whizzed past, her pulse roaring in her ears. “We’re running low on ammo!” she shouted.

“We need more!” someone yelled back. “We can’t hold out like this!”

Dae-ho clenched his jaw, gripping his rifle. “I’ll go get some,” he said.

As he ran through the corridors, the gunfire fading behind him, something dark and suffocating wrapped around his chest.

Memories clawed their way to the surface.

Blood. Screaming. The bodies of people he had once called comrades.

His breath hitched.

✧˚ · .

You had been pacing, anxiety gnawing at your stomach, when Dae-ho stumbled inside.

Something was wrong.

Dae-ho stumbled back into the dormitory, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. His hands were shaking, but he forced himself to move.

He scanned the room—most of the players were huddled together, whispering anxiously, too afraid to do anything. The bodies of the dead guards still lay where they had fallen, untouched.

Swallowing hard, he forced himself forward.

His hands trembled as he knelt beside one of the guards, searching through his pockets. He grabbed everything he could find, moving quickly to the next body.

The smell of blood made his stomach churn.

He tried to ignore it. Tried to pretend he wasn’t kneeling among corpses, rummaging through their uniforms like a scavenger.

By the time he was done, he had stuffed as much ammo as he could into a spare jacket he’d found. His fingers tightened around the fabric.

He needed to go back.

He needed to bring this to the others.

But the moment he turned toward the door, something inside him snapped.

A memory. A flash of gunfire. Screams.

His breath hitched.

He couldn’t go back out there.

His grip on the jacket loosened as his feet carried him backward, away from the door, away from the fight.

By the time he reached his bed, he collapsed onto it, curling around the stolen ammo like a child clutching a security blanket. His body shook. His mind screamed.

That was how you found him.

Your heart clenched at the sight.

Slowly, carefully, you approached.

“Dae-ho?” you whispered.

He didn’t look up.

You crouched beside him, your voice softer now. “What happened?”

His breaths were uneven. “I—I can’t,” he rasped. “I can’t go back out there.”

Your chest ached.

You placed a gentle hand on his arm. “It’s okay,” you murmured. “You don’t have to.”

His eyes flickered toward you, glassy with fear.

You gave his arm a reassuring squeeze before shifting your attention to the jacket in his grasp.

“You did good,” you said. “You got the ammo.”

He swallowed hard, nodding weakly.

You hesitated. Then, carefully, you took the jacket from him. He didn’t resist.

“I’ll take it from here.”

And before he could stop you, you turned and ran.

✧˚ · . 

The colourful walls blurred around you as you moved as fast as you could, the weight of the ammo pressing down on you.

You found Player 120, Hyun-Ju, first. She was crouched behind cover, struggling to reload.

“Here!” you gasped, shoving the ammo toward her.

Her eyes widened in relief. “Thank you—”

But you were already moving.

You had to find Young-il.

✧˚ · .

Your pulse pounded in your ears as you turned the last corner. Then, you saw him.

Young-il stood just ahead, his back turned to you, shoulders rising and falling with heavy breaths. At his feet lay the bodies of two players—the same ones who had left with him.

Your heart lurched.

They were dead.

Your gaze snapped back to Young-il. He was gripping a gun.

“Young-il?” Your voice was shaky as you took a hesitant step forward.

He turned at the sound of your voice. His expression hardened for a fraction of a second, as if he was displeased to see you. Then, just as quickly, his face softened.

“Why are you here?” His voice was sharp, but beneath it, there was something else.

Relief.

Anger.

Panic.

You swallowed thickly. “We were running out of ammo… Dae-ho—he couldn’t do it. I took over.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched. “You shouldn’t have come.”

You frowned. Something about his tone unsettled you. You glanced down at the bodies again, dread curling in your stomach. “What happened to them?”

“They didn’t make it,” he said simply.

You looked up at him again, and for the first time, you truly took him in.

There was something off about him.

The way he stood—too still.

The way he held the gun—too natural.

The way he looked at you—too calculating.

Then, his walkie-talkie crackled to life.

“Young-il?” It was Gi-hun’s voice. “What’s going on? I heard gunshots.”

Young-il lifted the device to his lips, his eyes still locked onto yours.

“It’s over,” he said. His voice was steady, but his grip on the gun tightened. “We’ve been caught.”

Your breath hitched.

Lies.

Your hands curled into fists.

Before you could speak, he changed the channel on the walkie-talkie.

“Start wrapping this up.” His voice was different now. Colder.

The words sent ice through your veins.

Your stomach twisted, dread creeping up your spine as the realisation began to sink in.

This wasn’t Young-il.

Not really.

Not the man you had trusted. Not the man you had cared for. Not the man who you fell in love with.

Your throat felt tight. “Who… who are you?”

There was a long pause. 

Then, something in him shifted. The careful mask of concern fell away, revealing something darker beneath.

Something possessive.

Something unyielding.

He took a step toward you, his eyes never leaving yours. “I told you I would come back to you,” he murmured.

Your breath came in shallow gasps.

Footsteps echoed down the hall. Guards.

You took a step back, shaking your head.

“No,” you whispered.

Young-il—it was clear that it wasn’t his real name—reached out, gently brushing his fingers against your cheek. It should have been comforting. It wasn’t.

“You have nothing to be afraid of,” he said softly. “I’m keeping you safe.”

You flinched. “This isn’t—this isn’t right.”

His gaze darkened, but he didn’t move away. “You’ll understand soon enough.”

The guards arrived.

In-ho didn’t even have to give the order out loud. One of them grabbed your arm, and panic surged through you.

“No—wait—” You struggled, and for some odd reason hoped that Young-il would save you.

You turned to him, searching for something—some trace of the man you had thought he was.

He only tilted his head.

“Take her upstairs,” he said.

And as the guards pulled you away, your heart shattered.

to the lovely reader who sent me the request: i hope this met you expectations 💗

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Dealing with zombies

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)

Undead alien horde wanders into town Alien: Run for your lives! Human: Why? Alien: Monsters are coming!!! Alien 2: They can’t be killed! Human: So they’re undead? Alien: Yes!! Human: Goes home and revs chainsaw Fucking finally. ----------------------

Alien: Watches human carving through undead horde Alien: How are you so calm!?! Human: finishes carving through undead Me and my friends used to do stuff like this all the time when we were kids on Friday night. Alien: Are these undead such a problem on your world?! Human: Oh they flare up from time to time, but then the market gets saturated with them and people just lose interest. Alien: What the hells does that even mean!?!?” ---------------------

Alien: What are we going to do? Human: *swipes everything off table and lays out giant map Human: We need to reach the local Costcoooo Mart and seal it up. Human: The walls are at least two feet thick of concrete so we only need to worry about the main doors, emergency exits, and loading bays to seal up. Human: There should be enough fuel there to power generators and supplies to last us a while. Alien: *Looks down at detailed map with several cascading footnotes. Alien: Why do you have this? Human: Have what? Alien: This map…..why do you have it already prepared? Human: Oh, that. Human: Every human has a zombie plan ready; sometimes several. Alien: Really? Human: *Shouts down corridor Human: Yo STEVE! What’s your zombie plan? Steve: *shouts back from down the hall Steve: Take my family to countryside where it is isolated and hold fort on a farm until things blow over. Human: *Turns to alien Human: See? Everyone’s got one. -------------------

*Pair of humans and aliens sneaking through zombie infested streets Human 1: Alright; if we can make it to the train station we should be able to follow the rail lines out of the city. Alien 1: There are too many of them; we’ll never make it through. Alien 2: This will help. Alien 2: *Hefts large plasma pistol. Human 2: Are you crazy?! Human 2: No guns! Alien 1: Why would we not- Zombie: *Lurches over to them and groans Alien 2: *Panics and fires plasma pistol. *Zombie is cut in half by the weapon blast but the loud boom attracts every zombie in surrounding area towards them Human 2: That…..That is why genius.. -----------------------

Alien: Why do you prefer using melee weapons? Human: Because they don’t run out of ammo, are relatively quiet, and you look badass while using them. Alien: Really? Alien: You are using a cricket bat. Human: Badass right? Alien: To quote a human saying. Alien: “You look like a wanker.” --------------------

Alien: Why do the undead keep falling down? Human: *Watches zombies step forward and fall down Human: God bless undertakers. Alien: Huh? ---------------------

Alien: How can you be so calm about this? Human: They’re only human zombies, nothing to be worried about. Alien: Only…. Alien: What do you mean by that? Human: The real shit hits the fan when the animals start turning zombie. Alien: Like? Human: Zombees. Alien: What? Human: Zombie bees; Zombees. -----------------------

Alien: I’m still surprised you have a functioning vehicle during these times. Alien: Let alone one with such a lovely shade of red. Human: Well to be fair it was white this morning? Alien: Really? What happened then? Human: Speed bumps. Alien: Speed bumps? Human: So many speed bumps. ---------------------

*Zombie horde approaches Alien: Don’t worry, I got this! Human: Wait don- Alien: *Uses flame thrower on zombies Human: You idiot, that does not kill zombies! Alien: What?! *Sees flaming zombies now shambling towards them Human: Damnit you’re just making them deadlier! -----------------------

Alien: So you are saying I shouldn’t wear armor? Human: Some armor, but nothing heavy. Alien: Why? Alien: They wouldn’t be able to get through heavy armor. Human: True, but when they swarm you and drag you down you won’t be able to push them off. Human: So you’ll either starve or have them eventually rip the armor off you and eat you slowly. Alien: Why do I feel like you have debated this before? Human: It’s a tale as old as time…. -------------------------

Alien: We’re surrounded. Alien: *Looks down at dog. Human: Why are you looking at my dog like that? Alien: If we set the dog loose it’ll attract zombies and we can escape. Human: Ah, no. Human: We are not sacrificing my fluffy boy. Alien: But- Human: One more word and I’ll throw you to them instead. Alien: Surely you wouldn’t. Human: *Cocks pistol Human: It’s a gamble you will lose. Human: *Scratches top of dog’s head

[zanazirafanfic]

What Charles Would Do To Micah

I sent @noshirdalal the following question on Cameo: "Since Charles was denied the chance to flatten Micah's face in the Epilogue, I would love to see him roast the hell out of the rat. Be as mean as you would like. (All in good fun, Micah is my favorite villain and I love Peter too.) Happy holidays!"

This was his response (transcript below the video.) Y'ALL. I was not ready for how amazing this was. Rather than roast Micah, he opted to burn him to a crisp and scatter the ashes. Very cathartic. It is very, very lucky for Micah that Charles wasn't up there on the summit beside John, because neither Micah nor Dutch would've even been able to open their mouths before it was just over.

PERFECT. Poignant. Believable as hell. As much as Charles cautions John against seeking vengeance on Micah, I don't think he'd reserve any of that same caution for himself. I think, like Sadie and Arthur, he considers himself more ghost than man. In another universe (where John didn't have to make a decision that would lead the Pinkertons to kidnap his family in RDR1) I can definitely see Charles and/or Sadie striking out on their own to take down Micah. John had more to lose, and Charles wouldn't (and didn't) want him risking himself when Arthur's dying wish had been to keep John and his family safe.

Thank you as always, Noshir. Your takes on these questions always exceed anything I'd imagined!

Transcript:

Zana, hey. You always ask interesting questions. "Since Charles never got to beat the crap out of Micah in the Epilogue, how would he roast him?"

I'll always be honest with you guys, so I think, uh... I'll just be as honest as I can be. If at any point in the Epilogue Charles encountered Micah, there would be no roast. There'd be no jokes, there'd be no games. He killed my best friend, and broke apart the only family I've ever had. And maybe that would've happened with or without his push, but he was definitely a big part of it.

I would hunt him. If he tried to go to ground, I would give him no ground to go to. If you're a friend of Micah's and you come to his aid, you are a dead man. If you have family, then at some point you walk off into the woods and disappear and your family never sees you again. But if you're a snake like Micah, well then the... The local sawbones probably rates that they died of fright, or from asphyxiation from the rat feces shoved in their mouths.

It would become known that Micah is hexed, that anyone near him for any period of time comes to a horrible end. And I would keep this up for a long time, until he has absolutely no one. And I would slowly guide him away from civilization and into the wilds.

I would liberate his horse, and then from there on in, he would never get a peaceful night's rest. His fires would always go out in the middle of the night. His food would spoil. He'd hear people at the edge of the campfire but find no one. And I would keep that up until he really started to break.

And then, I'd make myself known, carrying nothing but my bow, arrows, and my hatchet, and we'd play a game of cat and mouse, until he expends all his ammo. And then I would close on him, subdue him, but try not to hurt him. And I would take an arrow and push it between his ribs, and puncture his lung. 

And then I would let him go. And I'd give him bullets. I want him to run, and gasp, and drown on dry land, like my friend. And then I'd watch him waste his rounds trying to keep the wolves away, and let them tear him to pieces. And I'd let him see me watch.

That's what I would do to Micah Bell.

[dixons-sunshine]

Mouth To Mouth | Young!Daryl Dixon x Young!Fem!Reader

Summary: The moment seemed all too perfect. You and Daryl had just confessed to each other and were sharing your first kiss with each other. It was too bad that your mom had terrible timing, and walked in at the wrong moment.

Genre: Fluff

Era: Pre outbreak.

Part of the Shopping Spree, Hangout Dreams universe.

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of sexual innuendos.

A/n: Here's the long awaited (wanted by, like, two people) fic about what happened when the mom walked in. I hope y'all enjoy! I really hoped to have my ex!celebrity fic with Daryl ready, but my draft never saved and I lost 2000 words, and that really discouraged me, so I worked on this little fic instead. Also, if anyone would want it, I have so many personal headcannons for this universe, so if anyone wants to see them, let me know.

As always, my requests are open for any TWD requests, as well as Scud Frohmeyer requests.

—

“Mom, please don't freak out. I can explain.”

Your mom raised her eyebrows at you, crossing her arms over her chest. She looked at the position you were in and nodded sarcastically, an amused smirk creeping onto her face.

“I'm sure you can,” she mused, her eyes flickering between you and Daryl. “This totally doesn't look like the two of you were just making out. You were just giving him mouth to mouth, right? Teaching him how to do CPR? Or you just slipped and happened to slam your lips against his.”

From the corner of your eye, you could see Daryl duck his head in embarrassment, his face flushed with a blush. You could feel heat creeping onto your cheeks as well, your mom's knowing stare penetrating into your soul. You knew that your mom probably didn't care that you and Daryl were kissing, but that didn't mean that she wasn't going to pretend to go into "protective mom" mode. She loved doing it to embarrass you a little bit.

“Mom,” you drawled in embarrassment, sending her a pleading look. “Please don't.”

“What, I walk in to find my daughter and her friend chewing on each other's faces, which will probably scar me for life, but I can't lay down some guesses for what your explanation would've been? How's that fair?”

“Fine, yes, we were kissing, but you don't have to make such a big deal out of it. It's not like I haven't walked in on you getting busy with Mr Prescott,” you retorted defensively, sneaking glances at Daryl who remained silent, his eyes nervously flickering between you and the floor.

Your mom let out a small laugh and shook her head. “Touche, sweetheart,” she nodded, shifting her attention to Daryl. “Daryl, I'm not gonna bite your head off if you look at me.”

Daryl reluctantly rose his head, a nervous glint in his eyes. He was fidgeting with his hands, picking at the loose skin on his thumb and you had to resist the urge to take his hand in yours to stop the nervous gesture. You didn't want to give your mom more ammo to tease you with.

“There, that's better,” your mom mused, taking a step closer. “Now I can see those blue eyes of yours that my daughter wouldn't stop raving about. I'm honestly surprised that it took her this long to make a move. She's liked you for quite a while now. She would never shut up about you when you left.”

“Mom!” you complained, sending her an exasperated look. “Can we not?!”

Your mom simply let out another laugh. “What? It's adorable!”

“Mom, please,” you pleaded, sneaking another look at Daryl. His gaze had returned to the floor, but you didn't miss the small smirk that was on his face.

“Alright, alright. I'll lighten up,” she reluctantly agreed, turning around to grab something from the table. “Sorry to have interrupted your "totally not making out" session. I need to get back to work anyway. I forgot a folder my boss needed. But after today, I'm suspecting that this will become a regular thing, so I won't ever be forgetting folders or anything ever again. My eyes won't ever recover.”

“Goodbye, Mom!” you exclaimed in embarrassment, hiding your face in your hands.

“Remember to use protection, kids! I'm not ready to be a grandma just yet,” your mom chuckled and left, leaving you and Daryl alone.

The air was charged with an awkward silence. You dared a look at him and saw him nervously fiddling with his hands, but the small smile from earlier still remained. He turned his head and locked eyes with you, his gaze holding a certain amount of mischief to it.

“So, ya have been ravin' 'bout me to yer mom?” he said with a hint of playfulness, finally breaking the silence between you. “Wha' have ya been sayin'? Ya been talkin' 'bout my rugged good looks? Dun' worry, by the way. I won't tell nobody tha' ya have a secret crush on me.”

You took one of the pillows from the couch and threw it at him. Daryl effortlessly caught it and laughed—not chuckled, but actually laughed—and dropped it down next to him. Before you could retort with a sarcastic remark, Daryl leaned forward and captured your lips with his, silencing any and all thoughts you had.

You returned the kiss easily. However, you pulled away after a few moments, lightly shoving him back with a playful smile on your face. You stood up and extended a hand to him, which he took without any hesitation. You pulled him up and lead him to your room, closing the door behind you. You gently urged him backwards and pushed him onto your bed, watching him comply easily.

A nervous look flitted across Daryl's eyes. You instantly caught it and gave him a reassuring smile, bringing your hand up to cup his cheek.

“Relax, pretty boy. We're not doing anything like that tonight,” you reassured him, stepping closer in between his legs. “My mom just caught us kissing. Do you really think I want to risk her walking in on something like that in the same night?”

Daryl exhaled a sigh of relief, looking up at you. “Then wha' are ya doin'?”

You smiled at him and gently urged him down, letting his body fully lay down and his head rest on the pillow. You got in on the other side and rested your head on his chest, getting comfortable against him. You felt him stiffen slightly, feeling his hand hover over your waist uncertainly.

“Relax, Daryl. We've cuddled before.”

“Yeah, but s'different now,” he whispered, his hand still hovering over your waist. “This ain't friend cuddlin' no more. S'couple cuddlin' now. I dun' wanna do anythin' to make ya uncomfortable.”

You smiled and pressed a kiss against his clothed chest, nuzzling your face deeper into it. “I'll tell you if you do, but you can touch me. I won't bite,” you assured him, feeling his hand finally rest on your waist before adding in a teasing manner. “Not unless you want me to.”

Daryl inhaled sharply, his grip on your waist momentarily tightening before relaxing again. “This gon' be a regular thing now? Ya teasin' the shit outta me?”

“Maybe,” you giggled, eliciting a chuckle from him.

“Yer gon' be the death of me, girl,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “But I guess I'll allow it.”

“Good, because I'm not stopping. I love seeing you blush like that, handsome.”

“Stop,” he groaned, burying his face into your hair.

“Stop making you get all flustered like this?” you asked, shaking your head. “Not when it's this adorable.”

Before Daryl could say anything else, you rolled away from him, flicking off the lamp before settling into your side of the bed. You got comfortable, closing your eyes. “Goodnight, handsome.”

A few moments of silence passed, before you felt him shuffle behind you. He wrapped his arms around you from behind, spooning you from the back. He pulled you closer to him, breathing in your clean scent before finally whispering something back.

“Night, beautiful.”

©dixons-sunshine 2024. I do not give permission for my works to be copied, modified, adapted or translated to any other site or platform without evidence of my given consent.

[the-s1lly-corner]

hello hello I hope you're having a wonderful day/night! Request for TADC!!

Okay so jax x bunny y/n? what if y/n was like lola bunny?? I really don't know how to describe her personally so I would base it of like the one from space jam 1? Like the first movie?? (IF yk what I mean😭) And I imaged if y/n was called doll/toots/ect by jax or anyone (like how bugs bunny did to lola in that one sence) she would get the most heaviest thing near them and throw it at jax or like punch him or something!! 😭😭

THATS ALL I COULD IMAGE BUT HAVE FUN WITH THIS IDEA!!😌

Jax x Bunny!reader

Imma admit I'm mostly going off what I heard ab Lola's original personality as well as this ask; typically I would do a quick look over in a fandom wiki (not always reliable, I know) but my eyes feel like they're full of soup (it's getting late 😭😭)

Writing this on mobile! So typos and mistakes are likely to be more.. dudjdkf??

This one is more platonic/neutral since I wasnt entirely sure how to make this romantic! Sorry if that's what you wanted ^^;

This was originally gonna be longer but I'm eepy and tumblr (on mobile) wont let me save half answered asks in my drafts 😭😭

Honestly he LOOOOOVES teasing you and calling you those endearing names, even before you two foster a relationship, if at all (romantic or otherwise)

He thinks your reaction is funny and more often than not he can dodge whatever it is you toss his way (I mean, did you SEE how fast he ran in the pilot?)

Doesnt feel much in regards to you also being a bunny, since he knows it's not your guys' actual.. real bodies, so why would he feel anything about it...?

Actually... he might use that as ammo for teasing you...

"We're like a match made in heaven!" *side steps a flying book shelf*

He uses the names you mentioned in the request but I feel like he would also get very creative/sickeningly sweet with them to further annoy you

"Schnookums" "my pookie wookie bear" "my sweetheart with whipped cream and sztra sprinkles on top", progressively gets more obnoxious

Stuff like that !!

I just imagine you running after him, throwing things at him while he just has this smug look on his face

[adrinktostopyourthirst]

How do you think Bucky would react to the reader admitting that she has a think for his metal arm?

I feel like he would be cocky about it

Oh, you see. Bucky Barnes is by no means a stupid man. At all…

Being trained as an assassin with quite a sensitive core, he knows which traits work for and against him. Yes, the army taught him plenty and Hydra taught him more. How to use weapons; how to properly use each and every one of them, to sharp shoot and count his ammo while he’s at it. How to abuse technology; how to hack into anything, photoshop a new reality and if he really had to, completely disable a traffic system and lay a country down flat.

But lying, manipulating and intimidating – that he learned on his own. Out of pure necessity. He knows what tone of voice will elicit which response, knows body language to a fault, knows how to ask which question to get the information he needs (or simply just wants) and how to stay quiet until the other person has dug themselves their own fucking grave. He knows how to use himself as his most lethal weapon and has had to.

So he knows damn well what his arm does to people. Yes, he can make it seem dangerous and intimidating. Knows exactly how to make people fear that arm. However, he certainly knows how to work it to his benefit. People’s unashamed curiosity with his arm and… Well, there have been plenty of men and women eyeing the appendage with a little too much interest. Bucky knows his sexuality well and the fluidity within it.

You are no exception. He catches you looking at his arm the same way he catches you looking at his lips. With the same hunger. Catches your heating face, too. Though he wouldn’t be the insufferable, broody, quiet man if he called you out on it instantly. Oh no. If anything, Bucky is a relentless tease, who doesn’t like it when people can’t ask for what they want or need.

When you started fooling around with him, you were already overwhelmed plenty by the unimaginable possibilities with him. Because he is a God. He knows his body perfectly and knows how to put it to good use. On top of that, it feels destructive, the way he can listen to your body and figure it out in a matter of minutes. He’s not only trained – he’s intuitive.

He had gone relatively easy on you in the beginning, only urging you a few times to verbally communicate to him what it was exactly that you were whining for. “Come on, baby,” he’d whispered in your ear with his flesh fingers slowly pulling out of you. “Can’t make you come if you don’t ask me to.”

He has melted your stubborn persona down to a begging, pleading, whimpering core more times than you can count. Relentless with his teasing, and sometimes going as far as to claim that he is a soldier after all, he ‘only takes orders’. Which is something you’ll get back to another time.

Right now though, you have reached your limit. It has been weeks of Bucky teasing something you cannot get yourself to admit. His metal arm. You want him to choke you with it, finger you with it, pull your hair with it– fuck it, you want to suck on his metal fingers until his jeans pop open at the sight.

And it is like he knows (because of course he fucking knows), because all he will do is stroke his fingers lightly over your pulse. Or brush the cold metal over your folds when he admires his next meal. He’s slid the hand into your hair, only to slide it down your back again without twisting his fist into your locks.

Prick.

“What has got you so worked up?” he asks when you writhe in the sheets uncomfortably. His metal fingers tease the apex of your thighs, mindless shapes burning into your skin. Your breathing is heavy and no amount of orgasms in the world could settle this need for that hand.

You bite your lip to keep from blurting out. Maybe it started with you being a bit shy and apprehensive about it, but honestly, now you’re just pissed. Weeks. Weeks he has been torturing you with absolutely fucking nothing at all.

“Bucky,” you breathe, exasperated.

“What, darling?”

You want to fucking scream at him. Honestly, you might.

Taking a deep breath, you swallow your frustrations and open your mouth to say something. But it is his metal, middle finger that dips into your dripping core that has you stutter on your breath. Yet it’s gone before you can moan out your relief.

“Fuck,” you rasp and swallow thickly.

“Hm?” he hums innocently and you want to throttle him.

“Do– ” you swallow again, ”Do that again…”

He forces a confused frown on his face and moves his flesh hand to your cunt, pushing in his middle finger. His flesh middle finger.

You squirm again.

“Bucky,” you grit out through your teeth, jaw clenching.

Suddenly, he’s there, his face inches from yours. Lips brushing your cheek and warm breath fanning your skin.

“Ask for it, baby,” he whispers, refraining from kissing your flushed skin. “Ask for what you want.”

You feel like you’re a child being told off and huff out your frustrations, making Bucky bite back a smile. Silence drags on and on and on. You try desperately to get your scrambled brain in order, especially since his orders – his voice – is another weakness of yours.

“Bucky, please…”

“Please what?”

“I want– ” you pause, quieting your pride like pinching out a candle, “I want your hand.”

“Say it,” he orders, waiting for the elaboration he knows is coming.

“The metal hand, Bucky,” you mutter breathlessly. “Finger me with your metal hand and I will do anything for you.”

Oh, and it is everything Bucky can do to keep his eyes from rolling back at the sound of those words, of that need in your voice. He might be a bit of a sadist, mentally rewarding himself for teasing you to the point of ordering your needs so sweetly. And he might be a secret sub for wanting to drop everything he is to give it to you the instant you ask for it.

His metal fingers are back at your cunt. Playing. Teasing. “Anything, huh?”

You can only let out a strangled whimper, your sweaty back arching when he brushes your clit. Bucky dips down again, brushing a soft kiss right below your ear that triggers a wave of goosebumps over your skin. “I only need you to do one thing for me. I’ll give it to you, I promise.”

You almost sigh in relief, until you realise who you’re dealing with. And you grit your teeth to the point of grinding them to dust, the metal fingers playing with you driving you to the brink of absolute insanity and dangling your release in front of you like chocolate.

“What,” you bite out. “What do I do.”

Bucky smirks and pushes two metal fingers into you, curling them into your spot with so much precision, you see only white.

“Come.”

[idk6123]

‘Un-official couple’ (Garrus Vakarian X Male Reader)

Sheperd’s team is a bunch of odd folks. Whether humans or aliens, soldiers or criminals, sane or insane people. All kinds of people from different lives come in to help Shepard and the rest of the galaxy to defeat the Reapers. Two of them are Garrus and Y/N, who got along quickly.

From the start, they got along well, whether on or off the battlefield. The crew find it a bit endearing, but as time passes, the crew thought differently about it. They considered Garrus and Y/N an ‘un-official couple’. Hell, they aren’t even sure they are aware of how close they are.

While sitting in their quarters, both soldiers are having their gun maintenance. Whether they clean the weapons, upgrade it or make sure the ammo is high enough.

“They should make snipers tinier.” Y/N states as he and Garrus move on to check out the snipers. “Easier to carry them around.”

“That might be the dumbest thing I ever heard. You need great strength for the bullet to crack through a skull of the poor bastard. That means recoil and in other words, need a bigger gun to deal with it.”

“It was just a suggestions. Pretty sure it can work.”

“You say that, but I know you like your weapons big.” Garrus says a bit teasingly.

Y/N knows what’s he getting at. “Do I?”

“Yes. Long, with a good area to grip it tight.” Garrus says with a deepening voice, enjoying every second of messing with his friend. “Can shoot miles away.”

Y/N hums. “I bet I’m not the only one who likes that. Since you defended big snipers, I bet you love big weapons.”

“Oh, I do-” Garrus then cracks up and begins to laugh, causing his friend to laugh along. “Alright, I’m done with the dick jokes.”

“Oh, you were joking?”

“Oh, shut it.”

While the two friends continue messing around as they do their duties, someone overhears them. It’s none other than their commander, Shepard. Wondering what’s going on with them, he decided to ask about it later.

-

As Garrus is doing a bit more calibration, Shepard walks in on him.

“Hey Garrus.”

“Hey. Is there something?”

“Just chatting.” Shepard stands beside his friend and leans against the wall. “Always nice to do something mindless while we may die tomorrow.”

“You can say that again.” Garrus responds a bit roughly. “But I try to look at it positively. We probably die next week.”

Shepard chuckles. “So… you and Y/N…”

The Turian looks beside him. “What about it?”

“I’m just glad despite everything that is happening, you two still act the same.” Shepard admits. “Kinda envious to be honest.”

“You got friends too, even if it doesn’t look like it.” Garrus jokes.

“Hey, I’m serious.” Shepard sounds amused. “You’re lucky you got him.”

“You say that like we’re a couple.”

“You kinda sound like you already are.”

Garrus looks a bit confused. “What do you mean?”

“I’m just saying…” Shepard is carefully looking at the right words as Garrus stares. “Some of the team consider you two as an ‘un-official couple’.”

“What!? Why?” Garrus sounds genuinely confused. “Can’t two people just be friends without it being romantic?”

“It can. Just not how you two treat each other.”

Garrus scoffs. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“I’m just saying what the team thinks.” Shepard defends himself. “But let’s be honest. You two constantly flirt with each other.”

“It’s call bantering. Look it up and you know what I means.”

“Does it?” Shepard replies. “I remember something about ‘having a manly time in the shower’.”

Garrus looks a bit flustered. “That was just a joke.”

“I know, I know!” Shepard assures. “I’m just saying, some people may think you two are an item.”

“Well, they’re clearly wrong.”

“Right then.” Shepard is then ready to leave. “Glad we got to talk. Let me get you back with your celebrations.”

Once left alone, Garrus begins thinking about what Shepard has said. He never thought he flirted with Y/N, at least genuinely. Still, he understands that can be interpreted as such. As he thinks further about it, he wonders if Y/N thinks so too.

-

The following day, the crew got to the Citadel. During which, everyone does their own thing. For Garrus, he goes to purgatory. He then sees Y/N hanging out with Liara and Tali. Without hesitation, he joins his friends in the lounge.

“So that’s why you can’t slam Omni-gel to bypass locks or other security systems?” Y/N questions.

“Yes.” Tali replies.

“But… why?”

“I’m not sure.” Tali shrugs. “I personally find it a lot less efficient.”

“You weren’t the only one.” Liara speaks up. “That security upgrade made a lot of people unhappy.”

That’s when Garrus joins in. “Hey.” He sits down beside his best friend. “Again with the rents about the Omni-gel controversy?”

“Yes.” Y/N sounds like it’s obvious. “I just don’t get it. Why would you make something worse, even if it was a massive security risk?”

“Look, you’re asking the wrong people.” Liara replies.

“Aren’t you supposed to be the Shadow Broker or something?” Tali points out.

“Just because I know what goes around 99% of the universe, which doesn’t mean I know everything.”

As Liara and Tali further chat, Garrus stares at the human man. Looking at him, he thinks about what Shepard has said. Maybe he should settle down while he still got the chance? And it’s not like he settles with someone he doesn’t like. After all, any day now, either he or Y/N can die, so they might as well make the most of it.

“Y/N.” The human looks back at his friend. “So, uh… you come to places like this often? Because, well, I don’t, but maybe I would if… um, if you were here.”

Y/N blinks a few times. “What?”

Garrus clears his throat. “I-I meant, you come here often?”

“Not really. Only to hang out with friends, but that’s it.” Y/N answers. “Just not a fan of music blasting my ears of.”

“I agree. I imagine people only come here to wish to become deaf.” Y/N raises his eyebrow, with Garrus becoming a bit flustered. “Not that I think you want to become deaf. You probably love your ears. I mean, I love mine. Uhh… the ears I got, not the ears humans got… yeah, sounds right…”

“O-kay?”

-

Y/N notices ever since that day, Garrus has been acting odd. Whenever he tries to be fun or nice, the Turian stutters and fumbles through his words. While Y/N knows his friend doesn’t mean any harm, he can imagine a stranger to think he’s a weirdo.

With another day living means another day training. Thus, getting in the hanger, Y/N is wearing his workout clothes, revealing his big muscles. Usually doing with Garrus, he sees his sparring partner.

“Nice outfit. It, uh, really accentuates… um, you know, everything.” As Garrus checks out his best friend, Y/N raises an eyebrow. “Not that I’m looking at everything, but—yeah. You get it.”

“I don’t?”

“Uhh…” Garrus awkwardly looks away. “Let’s just spar.”

On the mats, the two begin exchanging blows. While Y/N is training hard as usual, Garrus is holding himself back. The human isn’t sure why, but he doesn’t question it.

“Nice one. I mean, you’ve got… great form. Not that I was looking at it like that, but, uh… good muscles. Or… coordination. You know.”

“Thanks?” Y/N sounds a bit confused. Feeling a bit uncomfortable, he begins to mess around a bit. “There is more where these muscles come from.”

“I bet. I mean in the sense of strength, not the sexual attraction thing. …Not that I’m saying you’re not attractive. Uhh… I mean…”

Y/N then stops and just stares at his best friend. “Alright, you’ve been acting weird for days. What’s wrong?”

“There is nothing wrong.” Garrus replies.

“Is isn’t? Because whenever we talk, you don’t know how to have a decent conversation.” Y/N clarifies. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No! You didn’t do anything.”

“Then did you do something?”

“…Not necessarily.”

Y/N groans. “Can you stop being so cryptic and just say what’s wrong?”

After some hesitation, Garrus speaks up. “Fine. Shepard told me other people view us as an… well… a couple.”

“Oh. Okay.” Y/N casually says.

Garrus looks dazed. “Okay? What do you mean ‘okay’?”

“It means I don’t really care about what other people think about us.” Y/N stated. “Does it bother you?”

“No. Not really.” Garrus replies.

“Good. Then why are you acting weird?”

“Uhh…” Garrus looks hesitant again. “I’ve been thinking about it. We… we would be a good couple.”

Y/N smirks. “You want to become a couple?”

“Yes, no, uhh…” Garrus feels a bit embarrassed. “What do you want?”

“I think we would be a great couple if you want to. Is that what you want?”

“…Is that what you want?”

“Stop avoiding my question.”

Garrus sighs, having no choice but to answer. Still, he doesn’t have the guts to fully admit it. “I would like that…”

Y/N smirks. Without shame, he walks over to his partner in love to kiss his partner. Garrus in return, remains frozen. It doesn’t take long before the human pulls back.

“And?”

“Your lips feel nice. Kinda wishes I had lips.” As Garrus looks at his partner, he looks a bit awkward. “So… your waist looks really supportive.”

Instead of finding it weird, Y/N laughs it off. “Yeah, we need to work on your flirting skills.”

[slightlyconcious]

Written on the Walls ~

2, 225 words

Rick Grimes x reader

WARNING ~ NSFW !! ((smut))

(also A:N-- thank you all for all the love on the other post, I literally have been smiling all week when I get the notifications for the likes!!! it's been making midterms bearable)

Everything that could’ve gone wrong, and led to this predicament, had gone wrong. The run was supposed to be easy– one in and one out. You were supposed to be back by nightfall at the latest, but now the sun was setting and you were stuck in town with dwindling ammo and a shaky grip on your pistol. You did plenty of runs by yourself, but this time had been different, and with the bigger group things had gotten out of control fast. You had run into a huge horde of walkers, appearing out of seemingly thin air and ambushing you in the clinic you were supposed to be scavenging. 

Luckily you and Rick had managed to draw them away from everyone else, letting them escape, but now you were trapped for the foreseeable future. 

“Fuck,” You hear Rick curse under his breath, his head in his hands. He leans heavily against the examination table. Your gaze is stuck on the single window, watching the sun set. The horde’s still circling, distant groans sending shivers down your spine. 

“They should clear out by morning. There’s bound to be another noise,” you point out, trying to lighten the mood. Rick glares your way, and you can feel it even with your back turned. He’s obviously still fuming about the situation. It’s not that you and Rick don’t get along, but both of you are strong willed and often end up putting everyone else first. Both wanting to protect and care for the other members of the group. You try not to step on his toes, not wanting the responsibility of the leader, but you can’t help that you want to look out for the others. 

He always seems pissed with you when you try to be protective, and often end up putting yourself in danger, and you don’t get it. What should he care anyway? You think. It’s his philosophy anyway, he does the same thing. In your opinion, he should be pleased he has someone else who’s willing to step up for the collective. 

“Why’d you have to go and do this anyway?” He snaps

“This is my fault now?” You ask, turning to face him. Rick takes a few steps closer, his breath heavy and rough. 

“No one needs you to play the hero. You’re just gonna get hurt.”

“I can handle myself,” you say. It’s a sore spot. Not feeling respected or valued, but you know deep down you’ve proven yourself competent. You’re one of the best fighters the group has, so, why can’t Rick accept that and let you do your part. You sigh, trying to catch some more compassionate expression in his eyes, but he’s all ice, not warmth.

“You’re gonna get hurt.” He says it again, and this time there’s a vulnerability to his voice. Sounding like he might crack. The setting light is golden on his face. Eyes squinting as he faces the window, stepping a little closer to where you’re standing. 

“Well, someone else might, if I don’t step in!!” Finally you’re getting exasperated with him. 

“I don’t care about that. Don’t you get that?” Rick reaches and grabs on your wrist, fingers closing in tight on you. His tone is low enough that you have to listen extra close to make out what he’s saying, “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Me?” You tilt your head to the side, wondering what he means by that. Rick closes the gap between you, pressing you firmly against the wall. The look in his eyes is desperate and vulnerable, a tender kind of look that you’ve never seen on his face before. Blue eyes straight in yours, not taking his gaze off you for a second. A slight, “oh,” escapes your lips as you make out the meaning of his expression. 

You’ve thought about this before. What it might feel like to have him look at you like this, but you’d just assumed it would never happen. Thought that the age gap between you was enough of a factor for him to always think of you as like a kid-sister, but here he was with a hopeless expression, burning desire right into your eyes. A blush spreads across your cheeks. Rick’s still angry, but he can’t help but smirking, thinking how cute you look under his touch; blushing. 

“Rick,” you’re not sure how to say it, “I don’t mean to worry you.” 

He tucks his hand under your chin, bringing your face more to level with his, “darling, I know you can handle yourself, but you don’t get it. I can’t function with you around. All I’m thinking about is if you’re safe or not.” 

The pet name burns in your ears, the Southern accent dripping from his words like honey. Your tongue feels heavy in your mouth and you don’t know how to make any reply, and you just nod. 

“Darling, please say something,” Rick pleads. 

“Do you mean it?” You ask, embarrassed to have to ask the question, but wanting the answer all the same. Rick’s chest is flush with yours, his hand still on your wrist, pressing the back of your forearm into the wall behind you absentmindedly. 

“Of course I do,” is his gruff reply. 

“Then show me.” You say each word fast, not so fast he can’t make it out, but fast enough that you can’t take it back. It hangs in the air, impenetrable and for a moment you worry you’ve gone too far. 

Then he leans in and kisses you. 

His lips are perfect against yours, melting together like two puzzle pieces clicking into place. The stubble of his beard is rough and ticklish against your chin. He smells and tastes just how you imagined, solid and manly, like woodsy peppermint soap. It’s intoxicating. You can feel your thoughts disappearing, only focusing on the feel of his tongue slipping past your bottom lip and meeting yours in your mouth. Rick presses you firmly against the wall, and you can feel the hardness in his jeans against you. It sends a jolt of electricity to your core. 

He sucks lightly on your bottom lip, eliciting an involuntary moan from you, and you open your mouth wider to meet his. Rick’s hands have firmly planted themselves on your waist, thumbs digging into the bottoms of your ribs hard until they curl lightly into the top of your waistband. You nod against his lips, hoping he gets the idea, which he does, responding by moving his hand to the button of your jeans and undoing in a fluid motion before his hand slips down the front of your panties. 

The cold air of the exam room has all but been lost on you, dissolved into the heat making its way between you and Rick. His middle two fingers slide between the folds of your heat, one of them circling your clit, before they press their way inside of you. It’s been awhile since you’ve had someone else’s hands on you, and the size difference between how Rick’s fingers feel compared to yours has your head reeling. The knuckles of his fingers sink into you and you can’t help but whimper into his mouth. 

“That’s it darling, how’s that feel?” He murmurs, sucking against the sensitive skin of your ear. 

“Good, so good Rick.” You say, heavy with desire, knees wobbly as he begins to pump his fingers in and out of you. You clench against him, the grip of you tight enough that it has Rick imagining how you’d respond to having his cock buried inside of you. 

“That’s right, be a good girl for me, yeah?” Rick says, lips grazing your cheek, your nose, your forehead, before finding their way back to your lips. 

You meet his kiss passionately, sucking against his lips hard. His fingers speed up inside of you, meeting that perfect spot inside you. He’s got his pinky and pointer finger resting on the bones of your pelvis, holding him steady. The wide palm of his hand curls up to press your aching clit. The sensitivity is becoming hard to process and you can feel yourself losing it. 

“Please, Rick, I can’t go anymore–” you plead. Rocking against him and shaking under his touch. He can’t believe how pretty you look like this. The usual confident and controlled expression on your face replaced by a dazed, wide-eyed, defenseless expression. He can’t believe it’s him that’s made you feel this way. 

“You can do it, that’s my girl.” His voice against the hollow shell of your eardrum has you spilling over the edge and losing yourself in him. Your grip on his forearms turns white-knuckled as you ride out the waves of your orgasm. His pressure slowly lets up, helping you back to normal, back to the world down here. Your breath takes a second to slow down, heart rate jumping in you. 

“Rick,” you say, a smile playing on your lips. Amazed. That look on his face, loving and sweet, is making you feel better than anything else. He removes his hand from your jeans, the change in movement making you shiver with sensitivity. Without hesitation he brings his fingers to his mouth and licks. His eyes flicker with satisfaction. Never has he imagined something tasting as good as you do and it takes all his control not to just bend you over and bury his face between your legs. 

Now that your head is a little clearer, now that your legs are definitely shaking as you walk, you decide to take a bit of this control back. You step forward, pressing him backwards towards the exam table until he has to fold over back onto it. 

“Let me,” you say, seeing the hesitation he has. Before getting on the table you strip, looking in his eyes the whole time. Slipping your jeans and panties down your thighs, stepping out of them. Pulling your shirt off, saving your bra for him to unclasp. Like a present. You climb carefully onto the table, straddling over his hips. Your tender clit aches against the fabric of his jeans. 

Rick’s hands go straight to the clasp of your bra, ripping it off roughly, desperate to cup your breasts in his palms. He groans at the feeling, “you’re fucking perfect.” 

You bite at your lip, holding back a smile. It’s a little difficult to adjust to get into position, but with his steady hands on your hips you’re able to undo his jeans and slide them down with his boxes until they’re pooling on his legs, behind where you’re straddling. Rick’s cock presses firmly against the curve of your stomach, aching red and twitching at the sight of you all needy and ready for him. 

“You sure about this, baby?” Rick asks, wanting– no, needing your reassurance. 

“I’m sure,” you spit in your palm, stroking him until he’s coated wet enough to slip in. You lift yourself up, guiding him into you inch by inch until you’re sunk to the hilt on his cock. For a moment, your breath is taken away and all you can do is let out a hiss of breath at the feeling of him stretching you out. 

“You’re doing so good.” Rick says. Awe painted on his face. One of his hands lands on your stomach, pressing slightly until he can feel himself deep into you. You moan at the contact and can’t help bucking your hips. Rick responds by rolling his hips and thrusting slowly, and deeply in and out of you. The pace of you and Rick lines up as you ride him, rhythms matching and breath meeting in the same air between you. 

“So big, Rick, it’s so much,” and you love the way his gaze fills with something rough and primal when you say it. His pace speeds up, his thumb moving to stroke circles on your clit. You throw your head back, white blurring at the edges of your vision. Tears prick the corners of your eyes. Rick’s groaning under you, holding onto whatever self control he has left. The feeling of you hot and wet around him is better than he could’ve imagined– which he has, he definitely has. 

“Fuck– fuck, so perfect for me,” Rick stutters, lost in the trance of watching where your bodies connect. 

“Rick,” the sweet sound of his name on your lips as the knot snaps inside of you and begin jerking unsteadily in your movements, riding out your second orgasm, it has his head spinning. He waits until you’ve ridden out your orgasm until he lets himself pull out to start to come. He finishes with a moan of your name, delicate and rough all at once in his voice. 

“Shit, sorry,” he chokes out, but before he has a chance to apologize for the mess of your chest he’s about to make, your lips have closed around his cock, pumping out every last drop and letting him finish deep in your throat. “Christ,” Rick groans. 

You lean down to meet his lips once again, tasting each other on the other’s tongue. Maybe this disaster of a supply run wasn’t so unsuccessful after all… you can’t help thinking to yourself as he dives in tighter against you… like he’s already desperate for more and the sun’s barely set.

[lostintransist]

Guys I saw a fic idea yesterday (I for the life of me cannot find it so if you know who is was please tag them) but the idea was basically that toxic!Ghost and his ex-girlfriend are still in love but she won't be with him because again TOXIC but Ghost keeps showing up to argue with her and then take her to bed.

But anyway my brain went mmmm don't like that let's make it so ex-girlfriend is truly done like calls in a friend with a shotgun to keep Ghost away kind of done.

CW: violence threatened, bad friendship interactions

He knocks like a cop, all force and meaty part of his fist pounding, rattling the door in its frame. You look at your friend. Tears have started to well in her eyes.

"Please," she whispers, "He's right there."

"Absolutely not. You asked me to come over to keep you honest, you want to be done with him. That can't change because he hate fucks like a deity." You point one stern finger at her, brows pulled tight, "You stay here."

The pounding knock comes again as you grab your salt loaded shotgun from the guest bed. Grip firm with your right hand you level the gun as you swing the door open. He had been slamming his fist into again.

Dark pits for eyes meet yours above a dark balaclava. He lifts a single brow with the slightest tilt of his head. He steps across the porch to stand at the stairs.

"Interesting."

His voice doesn't rumble the way you expect it to. It's still deep but not as deep as his frame would suggest.

"She's done. Now leave." You center the shotgun on his chest.

"I'd like to check that," he steps to the side as if to move around you.

Tracking his moment you tsk at him.

"I know you military types have issues with women and authority but I would happily spend a few nights in jail for putting some holes in you."

He takes another step forward. Forcing the barrel up and to the left you fire off a round into the night before centering on his body again. Once your gaze is locked with his you rack the next round into place.

His hands drift up from his sides. No fear is in his eyes, only cool calculation.

"I will be here all night, so don't even try it."

A moment of silence stretches like taffy between you.

"You handle that well." He is referring to the gun.

"I hunt dick, I mean deer for fun." He doesn't miss your intentional word slip.

At some point that you can't determine he decides. Standing tall he drops both hands to his pockets, turns and whistles as he walks back into the dark. You don't move from your guarding position until you hear the throaty roar of a motorcycle fade into the distance.

Stepping inside you close and lock the front door before breaking the gun open to remove the ammo. Your friend comes tearing around the corner crying.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you. I don't know what you did but thank you. I love him but I finally feel free?" She throws her arms around you in a hug you can only half return because one arm is still full.

"You need to move, like by the end of the week. I'll help you get movers scheduled."

She squeezes you hard once before stepping back to wipe her eyes.

"Want some wine while we look at options closer to work?"

"God yes. Let me put this away and I'll meet you in the kitchen."

Time passes, yada yada yada. The friendship changes so that you are hardly speaking when the wedding invitation arrives. But you're free that day and drop it in your calendar.

She hadn't invited you to the ceremony. No big deal, while you missed the friendship she wasn't a great friend after you forced her ex boyfriend to leave her alone. You almost wonder if you are associated with him now in her mind, hence the distance.

You were surprised to find her ex among the crowd at the reception. Clocking him you made a point to avoid him. He caught you though, halfway into your wine taking a breather from the air that had turned muggy under the tent.

"You look good tonight."

Closing your eyes you took a deep breath.

"I look good every night, what's the point?"

He stepped up beside you.

"I'm looking for a -"

"Let me stop you right there," you cut him off. "Micro dosing poison will still kill a person. I've heard, repeatedly, how you are. If you want to have a shot at this conversation? Go the fuck to therapy and work through your issues."

With that you turn and stride inside, dropping your wine off at the bar you make your goodbyes and slip away into the darkness.

He finds you eight months later at a coffee shop. You had been listening to music when the chair across from you slides out and a ghost from the past settles into it. He slides a business card across the table to you.

Moving on headphone you give him your best 'the hell do you want' look.

"That's the contact info for my therapist," he taps twice on the card with a finger. "She has permission to speak to you about how I'm doing."

"And why would I want to do that?" You ask archly.

"Because you're interesting, and interested."

"Am I?"

"My number is on the back," he taps the card one more time before standing and leaving you bewildered and, unfortunately, the teensiest bit interested.

Masterlist

[creator1mpersonator]

The Rescue Mission

02. Blue Medallions

No use of y/n, lowk may be a little bit rushed so I may rewrite it later, things are indeed happening

There was a path to the side of a tall tower. You followed the arrow sign, finding another gate. You opened it, entering another part of the village. There were a few blue medallions hanging on tree branches, but some were broken on the ground. Shot down, by the looks of it.

You hoped that meant that Leon had been here. That could mean the trail wasn’t completely cold.

A blue piece of paper was stapled onto a tree. You hopped over the fence, tearing it off. It was mostly illegible, but what you could make out said that there were 15 blue medallions, 7 in the farm and 8 in the cemetery. 10 or more shot down resulted in some kind of award.

You folded up the paper, pocketing it. It could be useful, maybe.

You walked through the area, finding a few hostile villagers that ran at you with pitchforks. A few knife swipes was enough to take them down, which was useful to know since ammo was precious in a place like this. You shot down the remaining blue medallions, counting five. There didn’t seem to be that much in the area, aside from a few yellow herbs, chicken eggs, and pistol ammo. A few cabinets contained sparkly gems, which you took like a raven attracted by something sparkly.

Once you looted the houses (well, that was practically what you were doing), you continued to the next gate you saw. You walked out, only for three villagers to push down a boulder in your direction from above.

“Fuck!” You yelled, bursting into a run. You just narrowly avoided getting crushed like a bug by jumping out the way the moment you could, the boulder crashing into the side of a mountain by a tunnel.

“Jesus…” you panted, standing back up. You checked to make sure your transmitter was okay, before radioing in.

“Hunnigan, bad news.” You panted, trying to catch your breath, “I’ve confirmed the body of an officer, and something is seriously wrong with the people here.”

“Your intel matches what Leon told me.” Hunnigan said, “where are you now?”

“I just left the village, I’m by a tunnel.”

“Get out of there as fast as you can,” Hunnigan worriedly said, “find Leon and Ashley, don’t engage more than necessary.”

“Roger that.” You said, before ending the transmission.

You armed yourself with your pistol, walking through the tunnel. You groaned when you saw more houses, you knew this wouldn’t be easy but this mission was taking years off your lifespan. Hopefully not literally, you wanted to take a long bath after all of this was over.

You saw what could only be described as a trap, a wire held up by two explosives. You shot one of the bombs, making everything in its vicinity explode. You backed away, covering your face.

“¡No los dejes escapar!” (Don’t let them escape!) One of the villagers yelled. This one was different; instead of pitchforks, they had molotov cocktails. You quickly jumped back, narrowly avoiding the explosive before firing at the villager. He fell down, but two more took his place. ‘At what point does this become annoying?’ You pondered, firing at them. They moved slowly, before falling like flies

Soon enough, the hostiles were all dead. You walked through the empty houses, taking whatever useful items you found. There was a rather large house, two stories tall with a lock on the door. You broke it with the butt of your pistol, and surveyed the interior before finding no hostiles. It was dusty, and looked almost deserted.

Almost.

You entered a real fancy living room, finding a bookshelf pushed out the way of a secret doorway. It was empty, and a broken closet sat in the corner.

“Nothing here,” you quietly mumbled, turning around to leave. You screamed when you saw a tall man at the doorway behind you. He had a black eye and a red eye, bald but with a long, black beard. He wore a black trench coat and you could see black pants and combat boots. He looked like he’d seen better days.

You immediately began firing bullets, but he advanced like they were nothing. You backed up, continuing to shoot, until he got close enough to disarm you and throw you against the wall like you weighed nothing.

You tried to catch your breath, but your ears were ringing and everything hurt so bad.

“No pensé que enviarían a otro agente…” the man said, before your world went dark completely. (I didn’t think they would send another agent…)

You woke up in a new room, your hands held together by a shackle connected to a chain. But, it wasn’t just you.

Because you could feel two other pairs of hands rubbing against your skin.

One of them, a man, woke up. He struggled against his binding, shifting you and the other person in the process.

“Hey, hey. Are you awake?” He asked, and you looked to your side to see the man you were looking for. Well, at least he wasn’t dead.

“Leon Scott Kennedy?” You asked, and you felt him tense up next to you.

“Whos asking?”

“I’m Special Agent ___ ___.” You introduced yourself, “I was sent on a rescue mission by the D.S.O. after you went twelve hours without making contact. I’m supposed to get you and the Baby Eagle home.”

“A rescue mission?” Leon asked, “I don’t need rescuing.”

“Look at the situation we’re in right now and tell me that again.” You retorted, and he fell silent.

The third person, also a man from what you could deduce, groaned and awoke from his slumber.

“Ay yai yai,” he muttered, “don’t be so rough, whoever you are.”

“What’s going on here?” You immediately asked.

“Americanos? Figures.” The mystery man said, “what brings you two here?”

“I’m— we’re—“ Leon corrected himself, “looking for this girl.” He weasled a picture of Ashley out from his pocket, showing the man, “seen her?”

“You two police?” The man asked.

“We’re not.” You said.

The man hummed.

“Let me guess… is that the president’s daughter?”

You and Leon both paused.

“One hell of a guess.” Leon spoke first, “start talking.”

“I’m a psychic,” the man joked, but after he gained no positive reaction, he awkwardly said “just kidding.”

“How do you know about her?” You asked him.

“Overheard some of the villagers talking about her, guess she’s in the church.” He explained.

“And who exactly are you?” You pressed.

“Me llamo Luis Serra.” Luis introduced himself, “used to be a cop in Madrid, but now I’m a good-for-nothing ladies’ man. And you?” (I’m called Luis Serra.)

“I’m Special Agent ___.” You said, and Leon introduced himself as well.

“Why’d you quit?” Leon asked Luis.

“Bah, policía.” Luis grumbled, “you put your life on the line and no one really appreciates you! Being a hero isn’t what it’s cracked out to be.”

Leon was silent for a moment, before he spoke again, “I used to be a cop. Only for a day, though.”

“And I thought I was bad.” Luis teased.

“Managed to get myself involved in the Raccoon City incident,” Leon said, and you began listening intently.

“Oof, qué suerte.” Luis said, “you know, I think I—“ (What luck.)

The door suddenly opened, and a bloody villager weilding an axe entered.

“Te voy a matar.” He hissed, approaching. Like chickens with their head cut off, the three of you began scrambling. (I’m going to kill you.)

“Do something, cop!” Luis exclaimed at Leon.

“You first!” Leon retorted.

“Either of you do something!” You yelped.

“What about you, special agent?!” Luis yelled.

The villager pulled the axe back, and by some stroke of luck, the three of you managed to move in a position where the axe hit the shackles that bound you. You all rolled away. The man moved toward Leon, who managed to kick him in the abdomen and send him crashing into the wall. He died with a sickening crack, his neck snapped in half.

Luis took this opportunity to run off, and you considered following but decided that Leon was much more of a priority. You got up, before extending a hand out to him.

“Alright?” You asked. He nodded, taking your hand and getting up with your help. Your transmitter beeped.

“Hunnigan, I got good news.” You said, “I’ve found Leon.”

“Really? Oh, that’s great.” She said, “is he with you right now?”

“He is. We also have an idea of where Ashley is. A male civilian held captive told us that she was being kept in an old church.”

“Is the civilian alright?”

“He escaped fine. We’re gonna head back to the village, apparently there’s a secret path that leads there.”

“Be safe.” She said, before the transmission ended.

Leon armed himself with his pistol, and you went to do so as well until you remembered that the man with the trench coat had tossed your’s away back in that old house.

“Damn.” You muttered.

“You alright?” Leon asked.

“No. Some fucking guy in a black trench coat disarmed me, I don’t have my pistol.” You said.

“You have a knife and a shotgun, though.” He said.

“…Touché.”

You decided to use your knife for the time being, and the two of you walked out the room you were originally kept in. In the hallway, a man appeared just outside the window.

“Over here, strangers.” He said, mouth covered by a purple cloth with a silver design and a hood covering his head. You and Leon shared a look before heading out the small house.

It was windy out, more so than when you first arrived in Valdelobos. From what you could tell, you were high up because the clouds were close and you could see mountain peaks clearly. You and Leon moved slowly, checking for any villagers and not finding anyone. Around the back of the house was the man from earlier, who chuckled when he saw the two of you approach and opened up his trench coat to reveal a mini arsenal.

“What’re you buying?” He said, and Leon was the only one who actually seemed interested. He assessed a pistol and a rifle the Merchant was selling, before giving him many gold coins (maybe you should’ve paid more attention to those little boxes…)

“Yer business is appreciated.” He said, and Leon turned around towards you.

“Here,” he held out the pistol. You blinked.

“You didn’t have to buy me a new one.” You said, taking the weapon into your hands.

“I wanted to. I don’t need anyone slowing me down.” Leon said, which killed the mood completely. Does he remember you’re here to save him?

And, well, Ashley too. But you’re sure she actually has manners.

To make matters worse:

“You know, you’re pretty cute.” Leon said, “maybe after all of this is over, we could get dinner?”

“We’re on duty.” You immediately shut him down.

“Story of my life.” He muttered, walking alongside you to the gate leading out. It would only go downhill from here, you should’ve left Leon S. Kennedy alone.

[emotionally-damaged-carrot]

Eggsy Unwin x Male Reader

The search for Excalibur

No warning, maybe fluff and angst

Kinda wanted make this into multiple parts hmmmm. Enjoy 🫰

As Eggsy was fighting Gazelle, Y/n was sneaking around the place looking for a gun for some reason.

"What the fuck are you doing there? Help me you useless shit stain."

Eggsy yelled at Y/n as he was dodging Gazelle's attacks and trying to counter attack.

"Looking for a gun."

"WHY WOULD YOU THINK A GUN WOULD BE IN HERE? THERE WAS A LOT OUTSIDE?"

Eggsy yelled now getting frustrated.

"Ow, right."

Y/n said as he looked pensively and walked outside of the room.

"That fucking dick."

"Okay this, it's just uhmm I mean what is happening?"

Gazelle stopped as she tried to stop her laughs.

"My partner with dicks for brains is thinking."

Eggsy stated as he was panting heavily with his hands on his knees.

"What the hell is happening down there, Gazelle?"

Valentine asked as he tried to look behind him.

"I completely forgot about him, my partner was supposed to be dealing with him."

Eggsy said as he ran his hand through his hair. A moment later a gunshot was heard and Valentine's body fell through the glass and down behind Gazelle. Gazelle looked behind her but was already shot in the head, falling down lifeless.

"Took you long enough, what the fuck is wrong with you? Are you sure you are an agent?"

Eggsy sat down on a chair as he relaxed completely.

"Don't you dare question my abilities."

They could hear a something move on the upstairs booth area.

"I will just shoot every body I stumble upon upstairs, I am too anxious for this shit."

Y/n head as he checked the ammo of his gun and cocked it as he inserted the magazine again.

"Tell Merlin we are going out in a bit, just need to double check."

"You're way too paranoid, come on, I am tired as shit."

Eggsy beckoned for Y/n to come to him.

"One guy there doesn't have his brain all over the place, and he looks to be breathing, never hurts to check, Eggy."

Y/n mocked him as he went down and then up to the booth area, straight to the body missing an arm and pointed at gun at his face.

"Speak now or forever hold your peace."

Y/n planted the nozzle of the gun on his temple.

"1.."

Y/n stood directly on top of him and looked down.

"2.."

Y/n trigger finger was itching.

"1.."

The guy suddenly used his arm his remove the gun from his temple and slid out of the way.

"Wasn't so hard now, was it?"

Y/n smiled at the man.

"Eggs, do you know this bloke?"

Y/n lifted the guy's head by his hair as he brought his face on the railing.

"Charlie? You still alive? How?"

Eggsy asked confused as he looked up at them.

"Guess when you used the ring it messed with the sim card."

Y/n rolled his eyes as he mercilessly shot Charlie at the back of his head.

"Th-that was uncalled for and you know it."

"My finger slipped, whoops."

Y/n looked at Eggsy expresionlessly.

"Can you still stand?"

Y/n ran towards Eggsy.

"Barely, adrenaline is going off."

"You look hot like this."

Y/n ran a hand through Eggsy's hair, the other on his cheek, the thumb grazing the cut on his lip. Eggsy hissed in pain but didn't recoil back, they stared at each other, Eggsy's hands rested on Y/n's hips.

"Yea?"

Eggsy chuckled as one of his hands went to Y/n's hand on his cheek, caressing the back of his hand softly.

"Come on, Merlin is calling us."

Y/n said as he pulled Eggsy up on his feet.

"We're coming, Merl, Eggs is just tired his adrenaline is off now."

"Hurry you two, Lancelot is waiting for us and she is very cold."

"Yea yea."

——— 2 months passed———

"You good, Eggsy?"

Merlin asked as Eggsy sat down on the chair along with Arthur and Lancelot, Y/n is missing.

"Just, Y/n hasn't been responding to me for a while now and I haven't seen him as well."

"That's the thing, Galahad, we're afraid Excalibur is missing."

Arthur said as he looked at Eggsy.

"Y/n... Is... Missing?"

Eggsy asked, his voice evident of concern and worry.

"Not to worry, we have located him, something in his last mission went wrong and he had been stranded in a jungle in Cambodia, he seems to be doing okay."

"How can you be sure he's okay?"

Eggsy frantically asked.

"He sent us a voice mail, he lost his glasses during the mission. But he found it again we don't even know how, with where he was deployed and how big the place is, it's a miracle."

Merling played the voice clip of Y/n.

"Eyyup, I don't know who is listening to this, hopefully it's you Merlin or whoever, I am stranded here, something went wrong with the extraction. They found my plane and planted a bomb in it attached to a tripwire. The explosion was quite close to me, luckily I am still alive b-but very weak, hurry up, please."

The message abruptly ended.

"He's in trouble, Merlin."

Eggsy stood up and began to walk out of the room.

"Calm down, Galahad, we cannot be rash, that's why we called you and Lancelot here, you two are going on a rescue mission to save a fellow Kingsman. You two will depart in no more than 3 hours from now, get your affairs in order and yourselves prepared, the search for Excalibur is now.

Arthur dismissed them along with Merlin to give them a brief overview of the mission.

"I will be waiting in the plane in an hour, if you are ready just head in."

Merlin said his farewell as he left them to get ready.

"You seem eager to save your boyfriend."

"He's not my boyfriend, Rox."

"Sure."

"Let's just save him and get this over with, he might be in danger."

"He's THE Excalibur, Eggsy, no need to worry, he's the only one named Excalibur since the founding of Kingsman apparently."

"And why?"

Eggsy asked Roxie with curiousity.

"Guess you'll just have to ask him."

Roxie chuckled and went ahead.

Eggsy smiled as he followed Roxie.

[vallaragna]

Preface this that this is about Destiny 2, a video game, so none of this actually matters. Just hypothetical ravings of a fiber artist with a bit of knowledge about historical things. So like I keep having thoughts about textile production during the dark ages after the collapse. (Specifically at Felwinter's Peak, but hold that thought). We have such varied descriptions of what survived the collapse. People are depicted as wearing basic tunics and dresses that would not look out of place at an SCA event. Technology is primitive, except they still have guns that they up keep and have ammo for, Shaxx is described as sealing his keep with an artificial sealant. So things are so varied and random. Like did spinning wheels exist still? They obviously don't have access to industrial machines, but are they just spinning everything on drop spindles? (Making me question how much work it would take to keep all the freaking iron lords and wolves on that mountain clothed.) For that matter, do they still have acid dyes? Or are they relying on natural dyes? Dye materials used to be highly valued, you can't tell me warlords wouldn't be fighting over this stuff (which also brings up Spices being fought over likewise). I mean you could hand wave everything by saying "golden age technology", but that shouldn't be half an interesting. We do have the Strand lore book where Osiris talks about using a spindle when during the dark age they had to make everything from scratch, which supports that line of reasoning. So no spinning wheel, only spindles. Cloth production takes so much freaking time when doing everything from scratch. With a spinning wheel it takes me hours to produce a few hundred yards of a thicker yarn for knitting, I'm not incredibly experienced, but it takes so incredibly much more time on a spindle. And you need so much yarn to be able to weave cloth of any yardage. There's a reason women in paintings used to be depicted with spindles and distaffs so often. For that matter, what sorts of looms were they using? If they didn't have spinning wheels I'm guessing advanced looms are out as well. So rigid heddle looms? Warp weighed looms? The second would make more sense, but also takes so much time and you can only weave cloth so wide. It's limited by the arm span of the weaver. So narrow fabric, so even more yardage needs to be made. We're not even at the sewing stage yet. I discussed dyes earlier, but it would be important. Even in the actual medieval times clothes weren't all brown. Natural dyes tend to fade faster though. Black dyes were really hard to produce, and they fade fast. Then sewing would be by hand, I doubt there are sewing machines if they don't even have spinning wheels. Sewing by hand takes *forever* even if you are fast. There are tricks to making it go fast, but you're not producing an entire garment in a day, especially if you have anything else going on. For that matter you really care about mending in this environment. Also knitting and crochet? Technically those take longer to produce a garment than weaving and sewing. I know Zavala learned knitting from Safiya in the dark ages, so it did survive.

I think I'm at the end of my ramble, I'll add if I can think of anything else. I'd love to hear other people's opinions.

[grandlinedreams]

|| hey remember that thing I said abt boot riding and condescending, mean Coop :)

|| notes: unestablished timeline, could be seen as pre or post s1, reader can be whatever they want, waves hand something something idk man I've got it so bad for this guy also HEY. MDNI. BIG TIME. YOU'VE BEEN WARNED.

|| warnings: pretty much pwp, oral (m receiving), cum eating/swallowing, cursing, boot riding, Cooper is mean, hair pulling, afab reader i guess

Cooper isn't sure if it's the oppressive heat, the lack of decent drinking water or food that isn't roasted radroach to blame for your attitude, or if it's something else entirely ㅡ but you've found his last nerve over the last couple hours and are determined to rip it to shreds.

Part of him says he could save himself some long term trouble and put a bullet in your head, but he won't for two reasons. One, that's a waste of ammo. And two, he likes having you around.

You're a good companion, when you aren't in such a piss-poor mood. But it's that mood that's the current issue ㅡ and so, Cooper comes up with his own solution when you get just a little too mouthy for his liking.

"Come on now sweetheart," he grunts, voice low as he watches you, "you can take it, can't you?"

Your answer is garbled for the length currently occupying your mouth, tip of him pushed far enough that it threatens to gag you. Cooper doesn't think he's seen anything prettier than the tears in your eyes over his cock in your mouth.

He groans when you swallow around him, fists a hand tight into your hair to guide you ㅡ and the way you squirm also catches his attention. But one thing at a time, and he isn't about to give you whatever it is you think you deserve until after he's done.

He tells you so, eyes glinting as you whine around him, sound silenced by the rough jerk of his hips. "Come on, sweet thing," he coos, mocking as he cups your chin, thumbs at the bead of drool that slides from the corner of your mouth, "not gettin' shit if you can't behave."

This isn't the first time he's been in your mouth, nor will it be the last ㅡ but the pitiful look on your face only furthers his pleasure as he bucks, listens as you choke and gag around him.

His head tips back as you suck, fist tightening in your hair as you slide your tongue over the underside of him, the steady pulse as his breath hitches a little. "Fuck," he huffs, "see? Told you I'd find somethin' for you to do with that mouth of yours other than bitch."

You squirm again, thighs rubbing together to try and give yourself a little friction as his already rough rhythm turns choppier ㅡ and then he's spilling down your throat with a low groan that only adds to your own arousal.

Cooper pulls free of your mouth and watches as you swallow before he tucks himself away and snorts when you give him an expectant look. "What's that for, sugar? Never promised I was gonna help you out."

Your lips part like you want to protest, but he's right ㅡ he'd never said he was going to do anything afterwards. He smirks, makes a show of debating before he crouches in front of you, tips your chin up so he can meet your eyes.

"Poor thing, did suckin' me off get you that hot and bothered?" Your cheeks flush, and his amusement grows. "I guess I can help you out. But we're doing this my way, hm?" You blink, watching as he moves to settle a little ways away, then gestures. "Well? C'mere, babydoll."

Cooper watches you, tracking you as you settle over him in his lap. He reaches for you, pulls you flush to him before he cups your face with gloved hands. "You wanna get off so bad, you'll take whatever I give you, hm?"

Your cheeks burn, betraying you as you nod and listen to him click his tongue, sizing you up before he leans to kiss you. It'd almost be sweet were it not for the way he anchors you to keep you from withdrawing, muffling your soft noises before pulling away.

"Alright, sweetheart," he breathes, "I'll give you somethin'."

ㅡ

"Come on sweetheart, I thought you wanted this."

Your cheeks blaze, a mix of embarrassment and arousal as your hips rock, bitten off whine that makes Cooper snicker as he watches you rut against his boot. The dusty leather is far from what you'd been expecting, but Cooper had been adamant ㅡ either you got off on his boot or you didn't get off at all.

He at least pushes it against you, offers that modicum of reciprocation beyond the dark, hungry way he watches you grind against the only thing he's willing to offer.

The edge of it digs against the ache of your core, makes you groan and grind down harder.

"Look at you, honeybunch," Cooper drawls, determined to keep up a steady stream of commentary and make this all the worse for you, "that needy for me you're willing to hump my boot like a bitch in heat. Pathetic."

It should annoy you, but all the insult does is send heat curling in your veins to join the needy, sticky slick between your legs as you whimper and continue moving. Your thighs ache, your head spins with the way you're panting ㅡ but you're so close.

Cooper knows it to, doesn't miss a beat as he listens to you whimper, noises arching to something more pitched before you're shuddering, rocking your hips in rough, tiny little movements before you're panting, body trembling with the force of your orgasm.

"See, sugar? Wasn't so hard, was it?" His tone and words are a playful taunt, one that has you glaring at him.

"Fuck you."

Cooper grins, eyes dark. "That's the plan, babydoll."

[reds-skull]

More Cyberknight AU sketches... I can already tell I'll have to do something with this universe, considering how much I'm thinking about the world building, plot, characters...

Speaking of world building, gonna write down some of it under the cut, if anyone's interested... (it turned out to be....... a lot..............)

Alright, so obviously there's a lot of influence of medieval knight armor, so my first line of thought was adding some sort of magic system. Initially I was like "well, can't use the magic system I have in my original stories, since Revenant AU is based on that, and if I do that again it would be way too similar". I considered scrapping magic off this AU completely, because I didn't think I could make a magic system different enough from rev AU to not be just the same thing but To The Left. And then it hit me.

COD already has a magic system. In Zombies.

Now, the Aether is not really treated as magic, more like scientific phenomena, but it's practically magic, taking to account the field upgrades, and its effect on living being (zombies, and special zombies like manglers, mimics, disciples...).

And the moment I thought about that, everything started clicking together.

Picture this, post apocalyptic world. Operation Deadbolt failed, and the Aether spread from Urzikstan to the rest of the world. Decades later, humanity found ways to ward it off, leaving swaths of land infected with the Aether, quarantined away from the remaining human cities.

This quarantine isn't perfect, however, and certain Aether forms threaten the delicate peace on the cities. This is where the Cyberknights come in.

Using Aether portals (the ones in-game), they teleport deep into Aether territory, and with motorcycles traverse the land, tracking big Aether forms that pose a big enough threat.

Scientists have found ways to build weapons made of Aether. The more in the metal, the better, so guns were now dwarfed by the power of swords and spears. These new weapons use the Aether of fallen enemies as a power source, for charging a powerful attack (in-game they're called Field Upgrades, and I'm giving them a lore explanation as to why it takes a while to charge them, and why it charges by killing zombies).

There are a few types of Aether forms: Aether-Mechanical (think the Manglers from the game), native Aether forms (Disciples, mimics, Aether worm), and infected Aether forms (humans turned zombies). Because of that, each unit must include at least one of each: a mechanic (in charge of equipment, and the mechanical nature of Aether-Mechanical forms), an Aether expert (for teleporters, and Aether forms in general) and a fighter (acting as sort of a tank as the others work).

I also thought a bit about the 141's weapons and field upgrades, so here's a little blurb on each:

Soap - Wields 2 short swords, the right with Cryo Freeze (Ammo Mod in-game), and the left with Napalm Burst. Field Upgrade is Frenzied Guard: Killing zombies grants a shield, but all hostiles are attracted to Soap once he turns it on. This Field Upgrade is usually reserved for fighters, which Soap used to be, but he's now acting as a mechanic for the 141 unit.

The blue and red in his design are for his ammo mods, ice and fire, and the helmet obviously resembles his hairstyle. Originally I went for something more Scottish, but it didn't look exactly like I imagined (Scottish warriors were notorious for not wearing a lot of armor, and they kinda scared other cultures, sometimes carrying the head of their enemies to intimidate others. So metal haha).

Gaz - Wields a spear, that uses Aether as a sort of magnetic force, meaning he can throw it and pull it back. Field Upgrade is Energy Blast: turning it on will create a force field around him, pushing and injuring anyone attempting to get close to him (this is a modified version of the Energy Mine in MWZ, just thought I can make it more interesting).

The purple on his belt are Aether crystals, as he's the 141's Aether expert. The "horns" on his helmet are actually a detector of Aether forms (and they're there to look cool).

Price - Wields a foldable shield, and a short sword, with Brain Rot applied to it (Brain Rot will make a zombie turn to your side for a short while, attacking hostiles for a few moments before their head explodes). Field Upgrade is Healing Aura, which will... heal everyone around him, obviously. Price is the fighter of the 141.

Price is nicknamed "The White Knight", as a well known fighter with a long history of felled Aether superforms. The piece on his right arm (his right), is his shield in folded form.

G.H.O.S.T. is a robot, powered by Aether, the first of his kind. This means he uses 2 Field Upgrades: Aether Shroud, making him go invisible for a short while, and Tesla Storm, which channels bolts of electricity through his body and his teammates', as well as his knives, so he makes sure to throw them in tactical positions before activating this. The electricity doesn't hurt his teammates, their armor makes sure of that, but it will kill lower Aether lifeforms, and damage the stronger ones. G.H.O.S.T. is the secondary fighter of the 141.

G.H.O.S.T. - Wields several knives, that use a similar technology to Gaz's spear, meaning he can pull them back at will.

[Edit: forgot to mention that the things sticking out of his forearms are his knives]

His design is based on the "Gilded Ghost" skin in-game, without the gilded part lol. The purple parts are the Aether powering his mechanical body.

For the story, I have something planned... but I don't wanna spoil you lmao. I was thinking a lot about Soap, who (if I make a fic which lets be honest I probably will) will be the POV.

Soap joins the 141 mainly as a mechanic. Each unit has a fighter, a mechanic, and an Aether expert. Gaz is the Aether expert, and Price is the fighter, G.H.O.S.T. acting as a support for Soap when the unit splits up. Soap comes from the northern territories, so he's very different from the rest in terms of his background, basically an outsider. He used to be a fighter, but a knee injury forced him to change positions. All members of a unit can fight, but it's not their main job, bar the fighter of course. He feels bitter about that.

He finds in G.H.O.S.T. an odd companionship, considering the robot can't feel. His AI is exceptionally advanced, so he does talk unnervingly, almost like a human. Soap often just rants, talking about his home city, about the life he used to have, and G.H.O.S.T. listens with no complaints, not that a robot can really complain.

It all changed on one fateful deployment, where Soap and G.H.O.S.T. get separated from the rest, and Soap finds the truth behind G.H.O.S.T.'s technology...

That's all I'm gonna leave you with for now, haha. As you can probably tell, I spent a lot of time playing Zombies in MW3 (idk I just find it a good way to relax), so I really enjoy trying to think of explanations for each mechanic, and how the world would look like 50 years in the future.