#both the giant hole through your chest and the Personality

[ash-and-starlight]

can you pls post a non-bonk version of esen i need to print him out and put him in a heart locket fr <3

here he iiisss for all your heart locket/stabbing/being haunted by a past you can no longer go back to needs

[revelboo]

Thank you for the Ugly Puppy (Waspinator) content!

me, about a grown-ass man who is also a giant robot bug: noooooo he's just a little guy!

Giant, scary wasp much bigger than you are just cowering if you come after him with a rolled up newspaper. Would probably act like he’s dying if you whacked him with it, too

Worker Bee Pt 3

IDW Waspinator x Reader

• Somehow you fell back asleep. You also nearly have a heart attack waking up to those sharp mandibles inches from your face, big purple optics wide open staring at you. Buzzing out a cheerful ‘small friend’ at you. Nope, not okay at all. “Has anyone ever explained personal space to you?” Gingerly reaching to try and push him off you, which is as effective as trying to push a truck sideways, he just tips his head.

• “No.” Your little hands are warm on his head and he leans into the touch. Until you groan and just cover your face with your hands. Whatever else you’re saying muffled, before you let your arms drop and just stare at the ceiling. Not time to get up yet, he decides, laying his head back down on your soft chest. And you make a strangled sound.

• “Nope, you gotta move.” Pushing at him more insistently until he makes an unhappy buzzing hiss and lifts up enough that you can squirm out of bed. And he immediately slumps in the warm spot you just left, wings fluttering. Skin pricking as how cold it is away from the heat of Waspinator sinks in, dread spills through you. Frowning, you head through the house. A table in the hall is broken, but it’s your front door that stops you short. Your door that’s torn out of the frame, wood splintered at the edges as snow lazily drifts inside the kitchen. “Are you kidding me?”

• His little friend’s nest is soft as he burrows under the blankets, only to lift his head when they’re yanked away. And oh, angry. You’re angry with Waspinator. Cringing down as you stare at him, an arm lifting to point down the hall. “There is snow in my kitchen and a big gaping hole where my door should be, Waspinator.” He hadn’t been able to figure out the tiny handle, but the door had come loose easily enough when he’d pulled. But like before, you don’t hit him. Don’t do anything but point. Upset, but not hurting him.

• “Fix,” he declares, moving out of your ruined bed and down the hall, insectile legs scraping the walls on both sides as you follow him. Hands trembling in anger. Trying to figure out how to get rid of your new, clingy bestie. Without provoking him, because he’s still big and scary strong. You tense when he folds in on himself and transforms to that other, slightly less unsettling form and watch him pick up the door and just prop it up in the frame. There’s a gap around it and it’s just leaning there, but he turns back to you. “Waspinator fixed.” And he sounds so stupidly proud of himself. Like he thinks he actually did a good job as your shoulders slump.

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[konigbabe]

steal the thunder - I -

Pairing: Hajime Kashimo x fem!sorcerer!reader Word count: 5.8k Tags/warnings: no y/n; unhinged reader; manga spoilers (Culling Games + Perfect Preparation arcs); fight description; canon-typical violence; there will be eventual smut in the later parts fyi Summary: There's murder in the air – with the Culling Games underway, a simple task of finding an angel turns to a fight for life when you meet a certain, static and 400 years old sorcerer with cyan hair and wicked intentions.

Artwork by poro (poro06625649) on Twittter [source]; divider by @skylightlantern [source] For a better understanding of the reader's CE and CT, visit this Tumblr post.

masterlist • navigation • faq • AO3 • ko-fi

There's murder in the air – an unsettling undertone that pollutes the atmosphere. Gentle breeze carrying the metallic fragrance of blood within its currents.

The dockside keeps quiet. Sky clear, devoid of seagull calls. Walking by colossal steel shipping containers, stacked high, the scent persists. Clings to the air like a persistent specter. Each step accompanied by the gentle lap of waves against the pilings, their rhythmic cadence a stark contrast to the horrors you've seen.A soothing lullaby in the midst of chaos.

The maze-like layout of the quayside comes to an end when your muscles strain, lifting off the ground and landing atop the steel structure.

A giant panda comes into view. Its relaxed posture, perched on hindlimbs, contrasts with its impassive countenance as it gazes your way.

"Panda," you address what some might believe to be an actual animal; innocent, cute and completely harmless. Except for this Cursed Corpse – your subordinate – is none of those things.

He fixes you with your very name; a disturbing familiarity in his eyes, then the words escape his lips.

"The smell of blood's so thick," he voices as you draw near, words cutting through the tension. "There must be about three people dismembered here–"

You hold up two fingers, the other hand nestled in your pocket.

"Two actually," you intervene, voice a measured interruption, "walked past a man with a hole the size of a soccer ball in his chest."

The memory resurfaces – the sight of the man, head drooping, neck bent at an unnatural angle. Eerie web-like burns sprawled across his bare flesh. The smell of singed skin and ozone hangs in the air, a pungent reminder. Yet, it's not just that which jolts your senses. It's the residual static of someone's cursed energy, an unsettling presence that lingers.

"But that's not what troubles me," continuing, you stand next to Panda, arms now crossed as both of you watch the lifeless skies, "something bad's here. I tried following the remnants of the cursed energy of the perpetrator but it was very faint."

"Could be an expert who can turn their cursed energy on and off at will…" Panda thinks out loud.

You let the idea sit for a second. Could it be the case? Could someone in this colony be capable of doing it? Known, registered sorcerers are absent here. The majority are newly awakened, scarcely equipped to comprehend a sophisticated notion like this. And why would they feel the need to hide their cursed energy?

No.

Dismissing your doubts, you shake your head and stride toward the edge of the shipping container.

"Don't think so. Nevertheless, we're here to find that angel girl and negotiate with her." Stepping onto the container's edge, unfazed by the high drop; balancing skillfully, you extend one leg over the edge, about to step into empty space. In a seamless motion, you touch down on the solid concrete ground below.

Panda follows suit, rolling off the shipping container with agility, landing right beside you. Then he stands, an odd combination of human-like stance and panda appearance, more akin to a person in a panda costume than an actual animal.

"Our safest bet is to leave the docks. Fast. Just play pretend, avoid any unnecessary conflicts and make it out of this colony in one piec–"

The sentence's left hanging as a sudden shift in the atmosphere catches your attention. Panda falls on all fours, frozen still.

"Ah," a deeper, resonant voice rumbles from your right, the words echoing as the familiar sensation washes over you. A sudden buzz inside your mind, an abrupt surge of awareness regarding another sorcerer's presence. Heart mirroring the rapid flutter of a startled bird's wings.

Their cursed energy, concealed and latent, manages to evoke an almost primal response within you. A sense of fight or flight.

You pivot to face the uninvited presence before you.

A cascade of hair, vivid as a robin's egg and kissed by the hues of a clear summer sky, is gathered into twin buns atop his head while tendrils of untamed locks dance freely in the breeze, resembling a stormy sea. Longer bangs frame the contours of his face, softening his visage.

He stops when his eyes – the same uncanny shade as his hair – bore into yours. Carrying what you'd guess is a Nyoi staff slung over his shoulder, he stands at a slight angle. Excludes casual confidence, a sense of poised readiness.

"Another one," he breaks the silence. You stand your ground in response to his observation.

"Not interested in a fight," you remark, hands risen in a defensive gesture. Yet you don't dare take your eyes off the sorcerer. Ready and composed.

Panda, ostensibly cautious, inches closer to you, fur bristling in sync with his unease towards the newcomer's presence. The air tightens, charged with the unspoken potential for violence.

"Kogane," he calls out to the shikigami, summoning it like a wisp from the aether; the small creature materializes, its hue the shade of a serene lake, light and amicable as it floats near his head, "is the panda a player too?"

The shikigami screeches its answer, its words setting everything in motion.

"Indeed!! A player! Yep!!"

"That's a function," your pondering voice meets a forced silence. The state of perturbed ambiance vanishing as your thoughts are cut off.

A flesh of white. Empty space occupies the spot where the sorcerer was standing less than a second ago.

You sense his presence before your eyes even settle on his countenance; his eyes, framed with short zig-zag lines reminiscent of lightning bolts underneath them, a furious cauldron of murderous excitement as they lock onto yours. They widen with a manic intensity. An undertone of madness lurking deep within their depths.

A predator's gaze fixated on its prey.

In a heart-stopping moment, time stands still. The world around you fades into a blur as a primal instinct takes over. Your body reacts; a precision born of pure reflex – muscles coiled like springs, you counter his attack with a swift and calculated movement.

His volatile energy crackles in the air. Your hands snap up. Fingers attempting to curl around his bandaged forearm. Channeling your cursed energy to your clavicles, the place where his palm lays flat against you –

But your reactions prove inadequate. You're too slow. A shocking speed and heavy push; a surge of force is sent through your body, catching you off-guard. The ground beneath you becomes a temporary adversary. Your balance disrupted as you're sent flying backward.

Back colliding with the hard, metal steel of a shipping container – you watch in horror as the sorcerer mercilessly attacks Panda. Using his staff as a weapon. With unnatural speed and agility, Panda struggles against him; his valiant resistance a testament to his determination, his form a blur of motion as he evades the sorcerer's attacks and manages a few good blows of his own.

Your body feels light. A tingling sensation surging through your veins. Electric current's rushing beneath your skin, setting your pulse racing and your focus to a razor's edge. The metallic taste of blood floods your mouth. Mingles with the adrenaline in your body. Every nerve firing in response to the raw energy pulsing through your body.

It hits you then–

"Heh, electricity," you mumble, the word slipping from your lips as you raise your palms, clenching your fists. Feeling the tingling in the tips of your fingers. The slight buzzing in your ears.

–his cursed energy has a special trait. One certainly hard to defend against.

Barely seconds have passed since your body was forced to rest against the ground. It still feels too long with Panda barely matching the man's speed and force.

Gritting your teeth, the urgency of the situation anchors you, overriding any pain or disorientation as you fight to regain your footing. A sense of pride fills you when you watch Panda use his technique, striking the sorcerer with enough force that'll easily knock him out cold. One of Panda's winning moves.

Except it doesn't.

"Nice one," the man's voice rings out. A taut smirk playing at the corner of his lips. Your teeth clench, disbelief intertwining with unease as you watch. With a predominated precision, the sorcerer maneuvers his staff, entwining it with Panda's arm in a smooth motion that catches you off guard.

Exerting a forceful pull, he forces a grimace from Panda. Right arm caught in the vice-like grip, a sickening crack underscores the moment. Followed by the nauseating sensation of Panda's arm being torn from his body. Violently. And mercilessly.

Panda stumbles. Pain and agony escaping in a cry. The sorcerer doesn't waste a second. Hurls the arm back at Panda, using the momentum to charge forward. Palm aiming flat against his chest, he sends Panda flying backward – the same way he did to you. Causing your junior to experience a similar sensation to yours.

The cyan-haired man straightens, seemingly relaxing, already content with winning the fight.

"But I'm not impressed," he taunts, words an ominous echo of the violence just unleashed, "It's too ordinary."

Feeling the concrete beneath your feet, you take deliberate steps forward. With an inkling of Panda's potential strategy, you expel the pooled blood from your mouth, spitting it onto the ground.

"...Sukuna, you know where he is?" The man's words flow, attention diverted, ignorant of your presence.

A fortunate circumstance.

"No clue," Panda responds. His reply burdened with weariness and defeat; yet his gaze remained fixed on you, a silent exchange of understanding passing between you as you position yourself, tension radiating from his weary form.

The sorcerer scoffs; a contemptuous tilt of his head, a gesture laden with superiority. "Sounds like you know something, then," he snarls, his grip on the staff constricting as his fist clenches, "Spit it out. I'll be merciful."

With the sorcerer's back turned you raise your arm. Your gaze remains fixed upon the convergence point of the two delicate lines, their path crossing at the very heart of the expanse that's the upper part of his broad back.

"I won't be," you declare; voice carrying a firm tone. A deft flick of your wrist – the current of cursed energy takes the desired shape before it's hurled toward your target. Slashing the air in front of you, aimed right at him.

His gaze veers to the side. And in a fraction of a heartbeat, he moves; executing a skillful sidestep. Body positioned to face you from the side, both hands now gripping his staff, aiming it at you; a glint of fervor ignites his eyes as they widen, locked onto the shipping container stationed behind Panda. The unforgiving force of your attack rends the shipping container apart, leaving two gaping slashes that could bisect a man.

You don't give him time to react properly.

The moment blood begins to stain his white robe crimson red from the nick on his shoulder, you lunge forward. Like a bull being waved a red flag. Feet imbued with your cursed energy, reinforced to ensure protection.

As you close the distance at a breakneck pace, you sense the distinct composition of his cursed energy. With your fingers curled around the staff, your eyes meet his, a faint grin playing at the corners of your mouth as you tug on his weapon with your full body weight. Lifting your legs off the ground, you use the staff as a fulcrum. His body feels resilient, akin to forged steel, against the soles of your shoes.

With the potency of your cursed technique coursing through your strike, the man is propelled backward, his body hurtling through the air. The Nyoi staff clings to the concrete. Left untouched upon the impact.

Flying through a shipping container, he quickly finds his footing. Stance shifting in response to your aerial maneuver. Legs splayed to establish a firm foundation, you focus your intent on targeting his jaw. Fists charged with cursed energy, you hit once; knowing how troublesome the push-and-pull effect of your technique feels once your flesh makes contact–

"Not bad," he manages to spit out, the corner of his lip stained red. A smile tugs at the corner of his lip as you sprint toward him.

The surroundings blur into a muddled backdrop, irrelevant in your unwavering concentration. The sorcerer becomes the sole axis, a focal point in a world that seems to slow to a crawl, even though only a fraction of a second has passed.

The tip of your foot touches his; a mere whisper of contact between two opposing forces.

"Not bad at all."

–he counterattacks. Hand darts forward. Grabs your wrist. With an economy of motion, he employs your own momentum against you. His grip becomes a pivot, briefly throwing you off-balance, diverting your forward surge into an unexpected spiral.

Fluidity. That's how you'd characterize his movements. A seamless transition from being a passive target to an active agent.

His chest brushes against your back as his right hand remains locked around your right wrist. Single-handedly swinging your body like a marionette, you exploit the vulnerability of your position. Using his grip as leverage to move backward, simultaneously grabbing hold of his bandaged left forearm and pulling. Crashing your body into his, redirecting the movement into a collision.

With a potent surge of intention, you force the prepared rejection and attraction effect within your clenched fist, propelling it like a bolt toward the rear of your skull. Teeth gritted, you throw your head back.

Crack.

He stifles a groan, a step taken back but footing resolute. A red trail paints his nose as you swivel to confront him. Pausing briefly to charge your energy again, you grant him a moment to speak. His expression freezes as he locks eyes with you

"You," he speaks up, his voice textured with the tang of iron as his tongue grazes his lips, "Have we met before?"

With your hand still tingling, the ripples of sensation spread up your arm, an electric current tracing a pattern beneath your skin. Your head sways subtly, dispelling the notion of a previous encounter. "Unlikely. You'd be history."

A chuckle dances from his lips, a response to your retort. "What's your name then?"

You share it deliberately, each syllable a measured beat in your dance around one another. He nods, his head tilting with self-assured grace. It's then that he takes his stance – feet planted firmly, palms outstretched, a grin playing on his lips.

"The name's Hajime Kashimo."

The words hang, a telltale echo–

Hajime Kashimo.

–recognition snaps into place when you repeat his name in your mind.

The Hajime Kashimo, the sorcerer whose score reaches a hundred points; a mark that sets him apart from any other Culling game player (except for the intricate Hiromi Higuruma). Hakari's elusive target.

And here, right before you, stands the man himself.

"Hey," you call out, a new determination blossoming, your stance embracing the challenge; retreat is no longer a consideration, "if I beat you, can I get your points?"

The corners of Kashimo's lips twitch, smile fading like a wisp of smoke carried away by the wind. Expression blank, with only his brows furrowed as he responds, "Sure, but you tell me everything y'know about Sukuna," his voice lowered to a dangerous undertone, a velvet threat veiled in words, "that is–if you're still alive."

He charges then. Doesn't spare a single consideration. The air crackles with tension as his presence engulfs you. His hands make contact – not with fists or strikes – but with the calculated pressure of his open palms. You feel the weight of his touch on your skin. Pressure on your left, then on your right ribcage.

"Don't disappoint me now," breath tickles your ear, voice a tantalizing, dangerous melody. His fingers anchor firmly onto your right shoulder, an assertive grip that both commands and unsettles, while his other hand exerts a calculated force on your left shoulder guard, propelling you into a spin.

Your training surges forth, a symphony of muscle memory and instinct harmonizing within you. With the resilience born of countless battles, you swiftly adapt your stance, shifting your weight to face him.

An annoyed huff leaves your now-bruised lips. You channel your own cursed energy, a torrent of power surging through your veins.

Detain an attack when it comes,–

Knees bending, body swaying to evade the incoming fist; your left hand grips his left wrist, fingers tightening with determination, followed by your right driving into its intended mark.

–and send it away when it retreats.

Your palm meets the solid plane of his chest with a resonant thud; pushes and then pulls him back to you before sending him away again; successfully pushing back against Kashimo's pressure. It's a momentary reprieve. One that sends the sorcerer tumbling back, makes him roll on the ground, lending on one knee.

"Here I thought we were just getting started," you quip with a hint of playfulness amidst the dance of combat. Moving swiftly towards the target. As Kashimo's force ebbs, you seize the opportunity, your muscles coiling like springs.

"You're getting me–" he barely makes it back to his feet before you're at him again. With enough cursed energy imbued into your foot, utilizing the momentum of your motion, leg rising up in a calculated kick – only for Kashimo to shift; a fraction of movement that proves decisive. His arm weaves beneath the arc of your thigh, a sinuous and serpentine maneuver that seeks to entwine and subdue. As his grasp tightens, his fingers snake around your throat, lifting you from the ground, suspending you momentarily.

"–quite excited," he concludes, his voice tinged with an eerie excitement.

Once the hand is freed from contact,–

A heartbeat's pause feels like an eternity. With your legs rendered weightless and no stable ground beneath you. Despite the vulnerable position, your mind remains steadfast, honing in on Kashimo's Achilles heel. His hands are preoccupied, his grasp unwavering but his neck and face exposed.

–carry out a strike with it.

Seizing the opportunity, you make the most of the opening. Your palms press against the sharp contours of his cheeks, each hand finding its place on one side of his face. In one swift and deliberate motion, you channel the wellspring of cursed energy that resides within you into your technique. The currents of your energy converge between your palms, weaving a tapestry of arcane force that manifests as a palpable vacuum, centered precisely where his head rests.

It's an intentional manipulation. One – if done right, that is – could even lead to a cataclysmic implosion. A violent severing of life from the body. But you don't want to kill him; not yet at least. You need the points. And so, you temper your approach, exerting only the necessary amount of energy to induce a sensation of compression.

As the feeling envelops him, Kashimo's expression shifts, a flicker of realization that dances within his eyes. He instinctively withdraws. Bandaged forearms push at your body, sending you hurtling backward; a testament to his strength and strategic finesse.

"You cheeky little thing," a bead of blood traces a path from the corner of his eye. At the same time, another droplet emerges from his nose.

This time it's him who doesn't let you regain enough control as he charges at you. His approach swift and unrelenting. The tables are constantly turning – now being his time to dictate the tempo.

Another dance of offense and defense plays out as the two of you clash once again. Each move a deliberate response to the other's actions.

Chase the movement of the opponent–

As the flurry of his strikes slices through the air, you find yourself navigating the ebb and flow with a synchronicity that borders on the sublime. With a hawk-like focus, you track the trajectory of his hand, your senses attuned to his every motion.

While his hits continue to swing through both empty space and meeting your body, a fleeting opportunity presents itself. With the precision of a seasoned sorcerer, you follow the path of his hand with your own, fingers closing around his forearm as it narrowly misses your cheekbone, the other digging into the open slash wound on his shoulder.

–to continue the attack.

It earns you a hiss. A "Tsk," coming from his damaged lips.

One fluid motion; one that belies your strength. You capitalize on the momentum of his own swing, utilizing your grip to exert control. Your foot surges forward with unbridled force, the sole of your shoe connecting with the vulnerable juncture of his knee.

Kashimo's reflexes kick in as he instinctively leaps back the moment your foot makes contact with his leg. His visage bears the marks of battle, a canvas adorned with streaks of red, the vestiges of blood from the prior exchange. A mirror to his appearance, your own face likely reflects a similar narrative. Marked by the intensity of the confrontation. By his pure, physical prowess. One that, even if you use all your cursed energy, you're certain you couldn't match.

The shadows of weariness begin to cast their subtle touch on you. A weight that tempers your movements and shadows the clarity of your thoughts. Each calculated step, each strategic strike, seems to bear an additional burden now.

Still, resolute, your unwavering determination fixated on Kashimo, persevering in the face of creeping exhaustion.

Then you take off.

With a surge of action, you propel yourself into motion. Pivoting on your heel, you sprint toward the towering container crane a mere few meters behind. Kashimo's quick thinking registers in the corner of your vision—a flash of white on your right, drawing nearer.

"Running so soon?"

His taunting words reach you.

"Just limbering up," you reply. Muscles tensing, you feel his energy almost brushing against your own. So, with a leap, you vault into the air. Fingers curling around your ankle.

Time seems to slow as Kashimo's grip tightens around your ankle, his fingers like a vice attempting to anchor you to the ground. The world spins around you, the crane's towering structure becoming a blur as your body is abruptly yanked back, denied the freedom of flight.

Instinct kicks in, your mind racing to find a solution. With a swift twist of your body, you channel the energy within, your cursed power surging to your fingertips. A burst of force courses through your arm, the concentrated energy propelling your free leg forward in a powerful kick. Your heel connects with Kashimo's face, the impact forcing his grip to release.

In the split second of regained freedom, your body soars toward the container crane.

Muscles strained, you manage to grab hold of a protruding metal edge, fingers gripping with an iron determination. The harsh clang of metal meeting metal reverberates through the air as your body comes to a halt, swinging slightly from the momentum before you propel yourself higher onto the structure.

A smirk tugs at the corners of your lips. The distance between you and Kashimo now a tangible reminder of your evasion. His frustrated gaze meets yours, the tension between you electric and palpable.

"Nice try," you retort, voice laced with a mixture of weariness and defiance. There's an undeniable satisfaction in defying his grasp, in proving your prowess even amid exhaustion. Without wasting a moment longer, you hoist yourself up more, using the crane's structure to propel your body upward. Your form melds with the steel as you ascend, a maneuver to gain the vantage point.

Gotta limit his movement to the minimum.

Kashimo's expression shifts, a glint of admiration piercing through his irritation. "Impressive," he concedes, the words carrying an unexpected note of respect, "but you can't run from me."

He follows your lead. The two of you ascending the crane in a synchronized rhythm

"I told you, Kashimo–," you declare, your voice echoing between the steel beams as you reach the crane's zenith, standing face to face on the narrowest edge.

Now standing face to face on the crane's uppermost beam, the narrow back reach providing only small support. Your breath heaves, each inhalation a reminder of the intense exertion. Across from you, Kashimo's gaze remains fixed upon you, his expression deceptively relaxed.

"–that I'm only stretching."

His eyes, however, tell a different story – a depth of focus that cuts through your form. Anchoring onto you with an unwavering intensity.

A mournful melody weaves through the metal lattice, the wind's haunting whistle creating an eerie harmony with the tension in the air. The gusts playfully tousle both your hair in the process. You steady yourself into a stance, your body a testament to both resilience and purpose.

"Plus I want those points," you remark, a hint of determination coloring your words.

It's then that you charge — cursed energy flowing through your body like currents of compressed emptiness. A void. Unyielding. Relentless. And pneumatic.

With a flick of your wrist, you send it slicing through the air. A blade of nothing. A thin line etches across his chest, traversing from ribcage to his already wounded shoulder — a mark of your earlier endeavor. Nowhere to dodge now that he's standing between two metal beams.

Or so you thought.

Kashimo charges. The white of his robe tainted with scarlet. The cut isn't deep.

He must've reinforced his cursed energy.

"Tsk," you utter. A flicker of irritation crosses your features. Agitated. With waning stamina, the dwindling reservoir of cursed energy depleted by your previous usage; this could've been your last-ditch effort.

The final move.

And it failed.

It makes him smile. A sinister twist of lips that morphs into a grin. Moving fast, his expression resembles one of a predator closing in on its prey. The ruby stain on his robe seems to accentuate his aura of danger, a stark contrast to the pristine white it once was.

As your body contorts and arches backward, you skillfully evade the incoming fist aimed at your face. Your unwavering gaze remains locked onto his intense stare. With your palm pressed flat against the ground of the crane, you swiftly raise your leg, delivering a targeted strike to the meat of his thigh.

But before your maneuver can fully unfold, his hand seizes your ankle, pulling you towards him and locking your leg in place as he maneuvers over your body. Kashimo's grin widens, a predatory glint in his eyes that triggers a ripple of unease down your spine.

As his fist whizzes past your face, you seize the opportune moment to mount a counterattack. His fingers, still harshly locked around your right ankle, you push and pull against his grasp. Leg successfully moving to close over his thigh, the other hooking around his hip.

Legs now firmly encircling his waist, you use every ounce of your strength to push. Destabilize the sorcerer. Break his foundation. Disrupt his equilibrium.

The outcome? Both of you soaring through the air and down the crane. Kashimo's form aligns perfectly with the approaching solidity of the dockside concrete.

A rapid free fall, gravity's pull unrelenting.

If you're not getting the points, he's not getting his answers either.

His eyes momentarily flit to the ground below. Unspoken recognition of the shared peril that binds you both. The realization dawns in his eyes, widening them momentarily, before his gaze settles onto your face once more – unimpressed. Jaded.

"Oops," you jest under your breath, fingers finding purchase on the fabric of his torn clothes. An unhinged smile on your lips, eyebrows lifting in a mix of audacity and exhilaration. The wind sweeps through, rustling your hair with a cool caress that contrasts starkly with the warm stickiness of blood on your skin.

"It's accumulated enough."

That's the only forewarning you get. In an instant, the atmosphere shifts; an electrifying tension that dances along your skin. You sense the already familiar tingling as the static charges from the man beneath you. Kashimo's cursed energy now gaining intensity.

His open hand thrusts towards your face, a surge of energy gathering at his fingertips. Only to get countered by your own palm. Flat against each other. Forcing a focal point of energy converges and resistance to form. As the push effect comes into play just in time with waves of electricity.

The crackling intensity escalates, its tendrils reaching out with an insatiable hunger. Only to be pushed back by your own manipulation acting as a steadfast wall. It's a symphony of sensations — the tingling of your skin, the hum of power in the air, the gradual crescendo of pressure between your palms. The vortex throbs and pulses, a living embodiment of the forces you both wield.

The thing is – The conductivity of the vacuum…depending on how you look at it, it behaves in two different ways:

Firstly, when you examine the motion of charged particles with a constant velocity within a vacuum, you encounter an interesting phenomenon. Unlike in other mediums, there is no opposing force acting against these particles. Consequently, maintaining a steady current across any surface within a vacuum demands no additional effort.

However, a contrasting phenomenon manifests when we consider the existence of free charges within conductors. When an electric field, denoted as E, is imposed upon a conductor, it triggers a flow of electric current. This internal charge movement gives rise to a current density described by the equation: J = σE, where σ symbolizes the conductivity of the material. Notably, within a vacuum, σ assumes a value of 0; hence, electric fields lack the capacity to spontaneously induce current flow.

In this context, the vacuum departs from the role of a conductor. Even materials known as insulators, which typically restrict the flow of current, possess conductivity values that are low but not completely absent.

As a result, the resistance exhibited by a vacuum effectively amounts to infinity—particularly when you define resistance through the lens of how charge carriers in a substance respond. Viewed from this perspective, you could liken the vacuum to an insulator, given the absence of charge carriers that are essential for the propagation of electric current.

So in the end, your innate ability functions like an antistatic force.

It should be enough to counter his attack. Neutralizing his endeavor and ricocheting it back to him. Only if his other hand, clenched into a fist, suddenly hasn't entered your line of sight, aiming for your jaw.

The controlled push-only effect falters. Then crumbles. The void's pull reclaims all that Kashimo had imparted, drawing it back with an insatiable greed.

"Damn you." It now comes down to the last aspect of your technique.

Implosion.

The energies within your vacuum field converge, collapsing inwards with a blinding intensity. A jarring impact against the back of your head – or it might be the ending of your fall. Everything's just confusing. Everything blurs into a disorienting haze of continuous events.

The unforgiving touch of concrete grates against your scraped back. Each breath, now shallow and ragged, causes pain.

Above, the sky stretches wide and boundless. Until the sight is blocked by a mop of cerulean blue hair. Two buns somehow still in place. Same-colored eyes staring at your form. Arms folded and a countenance marred by bloodstains and scrapes. Each leg positioned on either side of your hips before one presses against the flat of your clavicles.

"You're quite durable," Kashimo retorts, pushing his weight down on you, "that should've killed you right there."

"Heh," you manage a wry chuckle, your voice strained but defiant, "guess I'm full of surprises."

He raises an eyebrow, a flicker of almost-amusement dancing in his eyes. The world around you seems to blur at the edges, the strain of the plummet combined with the failed attempt of your innate technique taking a heavy toll on your senses.

"It's been a while since I've encountered someone who can keep me on my toes this long. Now tell me," your name rolls off his tongue in a taunting lilt, "where's Sukuna?"

The distant sounds of the dockside begin to fade, replaced by an eerie emptiness. Despite your unwavering determination, a tide of dizziness threatens to engulf you, and you struggle to maintain your focus on Kashimo's face.

"On vaca–"

The weight on your chest vanishes abruptly. Kashimo's foot makes fleeting contact with your cheek before returning to its original place.

"Don't play with me. Spit it out."

"Oi," a voice calls to your right. A voice you know; Hakari's, "It's not very chivalrous to strike a lady like that."

From here, everything dissolves into darkness.

The world sways, a disorienting dance of shadows and sensations. Light pressure settles on your stomach with sounds echoing faintly in the distance. A gentle, steady rhythm envelops you as if you're being cradled in a cocoon of safety. Your limbs feel weightless, as though the ground beneath you has transformed into a soft cloud that carries your burdens away.

Your mind struggles to tether itself to the present, grappling with the fragments of consciousness that slip through your grasp. Colors blur, merging into a hazy kaleidoscope of fleeting images. The arms that encircle you exude warmth thought. One that lulls you back to sleep.

Yet you manage to summon the strength to part your heavy eyelids. Through the haze, you see a blur of black and white on top of you. Head resting upon something firm and solid – a breastplate, you realize. The rhythmic cadence that envelops you is accompanied by the subtle rise and fall of breath, a heartbeat that resonates beneath your cheek.

"Panda," you murmur, voice a tentative whisper as you attempt to comprehend whether or not you're dreaming, considering the creature on you is now a size of an actual teddy bear.

The toy-sized Panda remains seated on you but looks your way, emitting a surprised yelp at the sound of your voice, before swiftly turning his gaze forward again, "Hakari, she's awake!"

Your vision – still blurred – manages to trace a figure walking at the edge of your peripheral sight – left arm missing, shirt gone (he's shirtless, you discern), and crowned with purple hair. Hakari. But if Hakari's walking in front of you. Then…

Lifting your eyes, you suddenly lock onto a fleeting sight of vibrant cyan hair. The once-pristine white attire now soaked and marred with splotches of vivid red, creating an unsettling contrast. Your heart skips a beat as the realization dawns upon you.

It's Kashimo who bears the weight of your limp form.

"She's gonna pass out soon again," his voice carries vibrations that travel from his chest to your cheek with his gaze fixed upon you.

And he's right as your body, weary and battered, succumbs once more to the embrace of slumber.

[pit-and-the-pen]

The Art of Dancing in the Rain

Summary: Eris needs to unwind, reader has the best idea to do exactly that.

Eris x summer court reader fluff

WC:1.5k (short and sweet)

A/n: As a Florida girly, playing in summer rain is so nostalgic that I had to write about it. Also I live for soft sweet vanserra brothers.

Let me know if you want to be added to a tag list general or character specific

Eris was about ready to tear his hair out.. He wasn’t even supposed to be doing work but when Tarquin had handed him the stack of parchment, he couldn’t exactly say no. So that was how he ended up holed up in your childhood bedroom. Windows thrown open at the hopes of chasing in some semblance of a breeze. His skin felt sticky, unused to the summer heat.

Mind reeling with the half-assed documents in front of him. Trade agreements that had so many loopholes, it was a miracle the paper they were written on didn’t resemble swiss cheese.

The two of you were supposed to be visiting with your family. Which is where you were. Probably playing with your sister's new babe. The whole time during her pregnancy Eris would listen as you babbled excitedly about all the things you would do with the baby, hearts practically forming in your eyes. The moment she had gone into labor you had Eris winnow you both and the several bags of presents for the little tot. You had left to give the new family time to settle but you could only stay away for a few months, refusing to miss any major milestones for your precious niece.

You had been particularly excited to show off the little strawberry covered swimsuit you had found, ignoring Eris’ reminder it would probably be too big for the infant. And that the water would be far too cold to swim in at this point in the year.

So here Eris was cursing his dead father for the millionth time. This time for his utter lack of organization. For making him have to take time away from his excited mate and her family. He would love nothing more than to see you playing in the waves, splashing around with the small bundle in your arms.

A small knock on the door startled Eris from his musings. He jumped slightly before he recognized your signature knock. The only one he never had to answer to. Just like he expected, you slowly opened the door and searched the room for him. Your breathtaking smile was enough to make him put down his paperwork. Returning it wholeheartedly.

“Pumpkin, what are you doing here?” He asked, a smile not fading from his face. You crossed the room in a few steps, the light fabric of your dress catching on the wind that had not been flowing through the room a few moments ago.

“Do I need a reason to check on my favorite person?”

“I didn’t realize the babe was in here.” He made a show of looking around the room, like he might be able to find the small child

“Well the biggest babe is in front of me right now” He shot you a fake scolding look that made your head tip back in laughter. “I wanted to check on you, you said it wouldn’t take long and that was hours ago. I had to make sure you weren’t wasting away.” You closed the distance between you two and wrapped your arms around his waist. You head resting perfectly against his chest. His hands came up to rest on the small of your back and he placed a small kiss to the crown of your head.

“I should be done here soon, sweetheart. Go spend some time with your family.” He muttered but only squeezed you tighter. You looked past him, eyes glancing out the window before a breathtaking smile graced your face. You looked back to him and held up a tentative hand out to him.

“Do you trust me?” You asked simply. He didn’t hesitate.

“With my life.” He swore and you wrapped your hand around his and started pulling him out of the make-shift office through the giant sliding glass doors in the room. They opened right onto a small private beach and he tried not to grimace at the unfamiliar feeling of sand under his feet.

“Okay, now that you’ve got me here,” he wiggled his eyebrow at you, “what are you planning to do to me.” He was rewarded with another sweet giggle. When you stopped, you got silent. Waiting for something he realized. That familiar twinkle in your eye that told him you were scheming.

“Just stand here. Should be any second now.” And as if on cue a loud crack filled the sky and Eris vaguely felt something cold and wet drip down his scalp. Then another, and another until suddenly the sky opened up, the downpour of cool summer rain. You let out a sound of pure joy at the feeling of it against your skin. Your dress was already starting to cling to your skin and your hair was already starting to fall into your face.

“We should go inside my love.” Eris spoke up with a shake of his head, trying to free himself from the spell that you seemed to be casting on him.

“Dance with me?” You said a little too loudly, trying to be heard over the loud rain. He cocked his head slightly, swearing he must have heard you wrong. Huffing slightly, you grabbed his hand and gave his arm a tentative swing. Still not entirely getting the hint, you pulled him close to you and threw your arms around his neck. You started swaying slightly and Eris, with practiced hands, came to rest on your waist.

The two of you rocked back and forth, swaying to an invisible song until he leaned down close to your face. “If you want to dance, who am I to tell a beautiful female no?” You didn’t even have time to think of a response before he grabbed your hand and raised it over your head, swinging your body in a dramatic circle. He wanted to drown in the sound of your answering laugh. It warmed his body against the chill of the rain and he spun you once more just to hear that sweet sound again. He spun you around until you were dizzy and needed to lean against his chest for stability.

The small swaying motions quickly turned into a broken waltz. Nothing court worthy as the wet sand made it hard to find your footing but he got to hold you close so he wasn’t going to complain.

As the rain continued to pick up, you started to hum the melody of your favorite song to dance to. He couldn’t help his own laugh that flowed out of his mouth, your joy too infectious for him to feel silly about his current actions. He loved his hands to your waist and lifted you off your feet and into the air in a graceful arc.

When he placed you back on your feet, you wrapped your arms around his neck again and pulled his lips down to meet yours. You tasted like you mixed with the taste of the fresh raindrops that freckled your face and lips. He instantly felt drunk off the taste and pulled you closer against him, tipping your head back slightly to deepen the kiss.

The two of you stayed out for well over an hour. Spinning and laughing and kissing. Until the sky started to lighten and the downpour slowed down to a trickle. You were panting slightly, worn out between the heavy giggling and movement of your dancing.

You pulled his forehead down to rest against his. “I love you, Eris” and the reverence those four words heod as they flowed off your tongue was enough to make his knees weak.

“And I love you sweetheart.” He continued to sway the two of you back and forth until the rain had completely ceased before dipping you low enough for the tips of your hair to dip against the damp sand. He pulled you back up to him, your chest bumping against his and he put a single finger under your chin and placed a sweet kiss onto your lips. Pouring all his love into that point of connection. When he pulled away he couldn’t look away from your eyes. Bright and so full of energy that he truly couldn’t believe you were his.

He was still in awe every day of your beauty and the unabashed way you felt your emotions. Today it was joy and he felt that same feeling mirrored in his own face as he pulled your head against his chest, more so embracing now than dancing and whispered a quiet, “thank you” into the crown of your head. He couldn’t say all the words he wanted to but he hoped you could hear the meaning behind those two. Thank you for loving me, thank you for showing me that goodness still exists in this world , thank you for being with me when I was in a bad mood, and thank you for reminding me how it is important to enjoy the little things like dancing in the rain.

“No, Thank you” Thank you for letting me love you, thank you for loving me back, thank you for still believing in that good and working so hard to make sure it’s still there, thank you for coming out with me and sharing this moment with me. Those words held so much more meaning than either of you could either find the words for but the two of you felt them all the same. As the two of you swayed until the sun started to set along the sea, Eris wished he could bottle this moment and carry it around with him for the rest of his life.

Tagging the Eris fans now that it’s not 1 in the morning (hopefully) @daycourtofficial @secret-third-thing

[ldrfanatic]

i just wanna know you better

Theodore Nott x Reader "13" Series pt 1

warnings - cursing i think??

series masterlist next chapter>

slytherin boys masterlist works

You'd known Theodore Nott since you were eleven. And you'd loved him every second of the past two years. Unlike his boisterous annoying group of friends, Theo was quiet. Verdant eyes always looking out. Observing. Now in sixth year, it was becoming harder and harder to hide your feelings for the boy.

What you didn't know was Theodore Nott had feelings for you as well. And he'd gotten tired of keeping those feelings on lockdown.

As the Scottish highlands raced by outside the large windows of the scarlet train, you tapped your fingers nervously atop your knee. Your best friends, Daphne and Astoria Greengrass sat across from you in their dark green garments. The crest of your own house rested proudly on top of the left side of your chest.

Astoria fixed you with a sharp gaze and enigmatic smile.

"What?"

"Someone's eager to see Theo again."

Immediately your head snapped upwards and your eyes focused on the ceiling as you tried to calm your heart which had apparently jumped to 100 bpm at the mention of his name. "It's not like that."

Daphne, always the more brash of the two, sighed dramatically. "Yeah? Is that why Pansy said that she caught you burning holes through him at her birthday this past summer?" She winked playfully and you once again averted your gaze to thread that had begun to fray from the striped seats under you.

Subconsciously, your hand bounced up and began to twist at the faded yarn bracelet tied securely on your wrist. It'd been gifted to you by Theo in one of your rare moments of interaction. You were studying in the library and he found a bit of string tucked away in the pages of an old ancient runes book. The bluish hues of the green reminded you of Theo's eyes. You instantly fell in love with the string and Theo himself had been the one to tie the damn thing around your wrist. The brushes of his soft fingertips against your skin made your heart jump into your throat, dying to word-vomit your feelings for him. Thankfully, you held yourself back but you hadn't taken the bracelet off since. Not even to shower.

Since then, every time you felt sad, scared, or otherwise diminished in any way, fiddling with the bracelet had become your tick. You'd thread it through your fingers when you had a big exam, the softness of the yarn instantly calming you. The memory of that first moment with Theo had always been your happiness. For that fleeting moment in the low lighting of the library candles, you pretended that Theodore Nott was yours. When you looked into his eyes, it felt like the universe had shifted.

Daphne and Astoria continued to chat animatedly but you were silent for the remainder of the trip. Your mind was fixed on the one person who might actually cheer you up after the summer that you'd had. That is, if he ever actually noticed you.

After what felt like a punishingly slow eight and a half hours, the train finally screeched to a stop in Hogsmeade Station. You made it halfway down the walkway with the Greengrasses before realizing with a soft slap to your head that in your daze you'd forgotten your trunk in the compartment.

"I'll meet you guys at the Great Hall, I forgot my trunk."

Astoria waved you off while Daphne tried (and failed) to hide her snickering behind her hand. By the time you made it through the giant waves of students and then back off of the train with the compartment, all of the carriages had left for the castle except one. You pulled open the door expecting a lonely ride to Hogwarts but were sickeningly surprised by both the first and last person you'd ever want to sit next to for a fifteen minute ride: Theodore Nott.

The moment his eyes met yours, your body thrummed.

Looking into Theodore Nott's eyes was like a warm apple pie. No. It was like riding through the air on a broomstick with the wind in your hair. No. Like coming home to a fire after a day out in the cold. Yes.

Looking into Theodore Nott's eyes was like coming home.

Except this time it was different. Something felt different. Something had changed. Everything had changed. Theo didn't look away like he normally did. He held your stare. Second for second, minute for minute. Until finally, you pulled yourself and your large trunk into the small carriage. Even more surprising than running into Theodore Nott on the very last carriage was that he was alone.

You'd known Theodore Nott since you were eleven, and he was never alone. Always accompanied by either Draco Malfoy or, god forbid, Mattheo Riddle. But never alone. You found yourself speaking before you could even think to stop.

"Where are your friends?"

Theo stared at you with an indecipherable tinge that made your ribcage feel too tight for your heart. Then after a long pause he spoke.

"They were being dicks so I decided to ride on my own to the castle."

His chin raised slightly in the air and piercing eyes fixed you with a stare so intense your mouth began to feel dry. Why did Theodore Nott have this affect on you? "Where are your friends?"

Your head snapped up and your eyebrows furrowed.

"You friends? You know the those Greengrass girls you're always with?"

Embarrassment sunk into you so deep that you didn't even register that Theo paid enough attention to you to notice the people you hung out with.

"I left my trunk in our compartment so I had to run back and get it."

You tried not to feel pride at the small smile that twitched at the corner of his lips. You'd gladly embarrass yourself every single day if it meant that Theodore Nott would smile his beautiful smile. Not for the first time that day, your heart rate began to pick up again. It pounded so fast and loud in your chest that you wondered if he could hear it too. If he could, he made no indication.

Easy conversation flowed gently between the two of you for the remainder of the ride and you tried not to look too disappointed when the carriage came to a stop. But Theodore Nott surprised you again. He rushed out of the carriage before you even stood. Guess he didn't enjoy your company as much as you enjoyed his.

Not for the first time that day, you felt your heart sinking. That is, until his hand reached in, effortlessly grabbing your trunk and his. Then he held a hand out for you to grab as you stepped down and onto the cobbles. You imagined that you stared blankly like a deer in headlights through the entire interaction.

This was definitely new.

The walk to the Great Hall was filled with easy conversation. By the time you made it there from the lower courtyard, the sorting ceremony was preparing to start. You and Theo walked in silently and quickly made your way to your respective house tables while desperately trying to ignore the whispering that broke out among the students the minute the doors opened. Daphne and Astoria made eye contact with you and gave you identical looks that said 'we'll talk about this later'.

But you were too far gone in your lovesick bubble with Theodore Nott to notice. What you hadn't noticed was the look that Theo exchanged with Mattheo and Draco when he sat down.

When you woke up the next morning, your mind was still buzzing from yesterday's interactions with Theodore Nott. For the first time since age eleven, a seed of hope settled in your chest that Theodore Nott might actually like you back. At least if his actions prior were any indication.

When you finally pulled yourself out of bed and made it down to the Great Hall for breakfast, you were bombarded by the Greengrass sisters.

"Tell us everything. Now."

You expected that by the end of your recount, the girls would be smiling just as broad as you. And Astoria was. But Daphne was sitting there with her brow furrowed and a suspecting look in her eyes. Astoria, as always, was the first to speak. "Finally Nott can get out of his head and see how beautiful you are."

You giggled wildly at her thoughts. The idea of Theodore Nott thinking you were beautiful had your head spinning. "I'm not so sure. I'd be careful with my heart if I was you, Y/n. Nott doesn't have emotions, he doesn't smile, he doesn't laugh. He doesn't even get angry. Nott Sr. did his best to break Theo of any emotions when he was a boy. I remember seeing it when they would host the pureblood ball."

Daphne's words shattered your early morning love haze. She instantly noticed the second that your face fell and grabbed your hands from across the breakfast table while Astoria shot her the dirtiest look. "Look, if Nott's being genuine then I'm happy for you. I just don't want you to get caught up if he's just playing some sick game."

"Who's playing some sick game?"

Theodore Nott's deep baritone had all three of you jumping. You'd all been so caught up in your own little world that none of you had noticed him approach the table. Astoria said 'Nobody' faster than she hits snooze in the morning causing Theo to raise one eyebrow curiously. He stared at the lot of you for a few minutes.

When none of you budged he shrugged off the weird interaction and took the empty seat to your left. Right across from Daphne. You silently prayed to every deity ever that neither sister would do anything to give you away. While you had faith they would never intentionally be so cruel, Theo was rather intelligent and it wouldn't be hard for him to deduce your feelings for him from even the smallest of hints or giveaways.

"Anyways," Theo turned and fixed his green eyes on you. "I came to ask if you'd like to join me for the Hogsmeade trip this weekend. First one of the year." You could feel Daphne staring divots into the side of your face. Doubt crept into the sides of your mind like blackness spreading into the edges of your vision. If Theodore Nott was just playing a game with you, this was going to be the worst heartbreak of your life.

"Sure, Theo. I'll go to Hogsmeade with you."

---

A/n; first chapter done I'm trying to get this series pumped out before it ends up half done like all my other series :|

2.9.2024

series masterlist next chapter >

[heartfullofleeches]

Yan Angel + G.N "Loser" Reader + Yan Demon Harem Blurb

It's been a while since you've been out on your own.

Between an influx of roommates better described as your partners by them and the few friends you had before not a day had gone by without someone hanging off your arm or chatting your precious hours away. Your apartment, once hollow and your fortress of solitude, was now bustling with more life and love than any home you had inhabited in the past. It was pleasant, if not a little overwhelming at times. Sometimes you missed the silent nights - the days when you were alone with nothing but your thoughts to keep you company.

Crawling out of bed and over the bodies that crowded your space, you slip on your shoes and retrieve the spare key tapped to the underside of your desk. As always, your roommates had hidden your main set and thus you hid spares in places they'd like never explored. Creeping towards the front door - the floorboards creak and cry out from the added weight.

"Baby?..."

You still, as if both you - and the shadow had zero knowledge of its heightened vision. The figure yawns, turning back towards your bedroom door.

"Grab me a pack of gum, if you'd like to buy my silence."

With a small nod, you pull your hood overhead and step out into the chilly evening air.

The closest gas station was about a block away; a fair final destination for your first night out alone in weeks. Walking through the vacant streets, it felt like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders - likely because it had. Your roommates were quick to massage out any kinks in your muscles when they were the cause of the majority. Each weighted a ton and loved to cling to you as if they were like as air. Still, you didn't mind it much considering they fixed the problems they caused almost as soon as they caused them. They cleaned up a lot in your life, more than you'd admit to them or risk being smothered to death by finally acknowledging their hard work and care.

"Sorry."

Opening the gas station door, you bump into someone as they exit. The hooded figure either ignores or didn't hear your apology as they quietly sit on the curb, head slumped against their knees.

Ok.... You shrug it off and enter the store, gunning for the isle with the item you set out to obtain. You pick a random pack and head up to the front to check out. The cashier takes a double look at you, straightening the hunch in their back as genuine surprise flashes in their eyes.

"Y/n? That you? Didn't recognize you without those bags under your eyes. You look good - how ya been?"

You check his nametag. Noah had been the closest thing to a friend you had for a while considering you'd see each other almost every night on his shift. "Oh, hey Noah. Not bad, just made some new friends... I guess."

He smiles as he takes the pack of gum. "Never thought I'd see the day, but I'm glad for you. Between you and that last customer - tonight has been full of surprises."

You decide not to question him on that last bit and pay for your items before heading out. The air feels even colder than when you stepped in and you were starting to regret wearing the only hoodie with such a giant hole in its pocket. You cover it as best as you could as you face the direction you came, stride halted by a soft hick from below. That person was still sitting on the side of the road, face covered by their hands as they openly sobbed and sniffled into their hands. It's not your problem to solve. You should really head home.

"Hey, you okay?

The figure turns to look at you. Shit - you intentionally said that low enough so they wouldn't hear. It hugs their knees to their chest, wipping their eyes off on their pants leg. The pants along with their hands and hoodie were stained with a golden, metallic looking fluid. Ew.

"I... ate a hot dog."

You grimace. You completely understand their state of duress now. They were so soft spoken and quiet you almost didn't hear them. Their voice sounded feminine - but not.

"It was the best thing I've had since I've came here. I thought I was doing something good by helping those people, but it's too much for me. I want to go home."

The figure throws their heads in their arms as their eyes leak once more. You could've sworn the same fluid that stained their clothes came from their eyes, but it was probably a trick of the light. You couldn't exactly say you had been in their shoes before, but you felt their pain. Life sucks, and then you die.

The figure jumps as a pack of gum falls on the concrete beside them.

"Buy another and eat it in front of whoever you're talking about. Once you stop caring about how others see you life get better. Not by much, but it's better than nothing. Just make sure you eat a stick of that after your done. From personal experience, hot dog breath isn't the best thing to walk around with. It's spearmint."

"Ah..... w-wait!"

The figure reaches out, but you're already gone. You're not going to hear the end of this by morning, but you're too lazy and out of cash to grab another pack. You head back home and crawl back into bed - unprepared for what the morning had to bring.

-

"Looks like someone left the house without our say so - again."

Goddamn it. It's not even an hour after dawn.

"You know it's dangerous to go outside alone by yourself, baby. Especially at night. Guess we'll have to remind you of your manners."

As by the grace of God, a knock at the door rings throughout your tiny home before your tattered clothes can be stripped of their remaining fibers. You bolt out of bed and to the door, flinging it open to greet the face of your savior. Instead, you're meet with the designer belt strapped around their waist. You poke your head outside and crane your neck to look up at the gigantic and well dressed figure - a bubble popping between her pale glossed lips as you catch sight of her face

"Y/n!"

The large woman reaches in and pulls you into her bosom, your legs dangling feet off the ground as she snuggles you to her chest. You fight the urge to sneeze as the feathers covering the upper face of her face assault your nose and eyes. As she swings you around like an oversized doll you see a dozen people standing behind her, each carrying more boxes and bags than you can count One, two three, twelve, thirty.... Oh God.

You tear your face from her bust to breath, looking through the wings masking her face for her eyes, but all that does is make your head spin. "Do I know you?"

The woman scoops you into one arm as she covers her mouth in shock, lowering you to the ground and dusting you off as she bows her head.

"I'm so sorry! I was just so excited to finally find you. You'd be surprised how many people have the same first and last name as you in this city. My name is Blythe, we met at the gas station last night. I did everything you told me to do and now I feel like a new woman. I saw the holes in your clothing and so I thought bringing you some new ones would be enough to repay you. It's not much, but I hope you accept my humble offering and maybe my invitation to tea this afternoon? It doesn't have to be tea, I just want to thank my savior in whatever way I can and hopefully become someone you can depend on as well. I'll do whatever I can to make happy."

Your stomach drops as a sickeningly sweet voice comes from behind you.

"Love, who are these people?

[andreafmn]

Collision | Chapter 20

Word Count: 3.1K Story Description: (Y/N) Uley is back home after being away for four years. Her life is at its first standstill and she is taking this time to find out who she is without school. But she never thought that coming back to the reservation would turn her whole life around. In the midst of secrets and mystery, a man crashes into (Y/N)’s and her life will never be the same. Chapter: 20/? A/N: your eyes do not deceive you, that's right, two posts in one day. Where is my prize? 😅😅 but I am very surprised at myself that I was able to post both Twilight stories. Also, don't hate me for that ending... My content will always be free, but if you’re feeling particularly generous, you can leave a tip on any of my posts  or buy me a coffee to support me and my love of writing Follow 😊 -> TikTok • Instagram • Business If you’d like to be tagged in this or any other story: click here Make sure you have my notifications on so you know every time I post! Please check if you’re tagged in the story, I’ve reached the limit of tags on Twilight again it seems. 😅

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Chapter 20

Time moved weirdly when you were stuck in the same routine. Days muddled together, only certain events sticking out. There were no beginnings or ends. There were only moments awake and moments asleep. That was how (Y/N) could tell that time had passed. When she was conscious, she could see that things had changed.

Her life consisted of work, school, Paul, her friends, and her family. There was nothing more. There was nothing less. Simply the same cycle, over and over again. It was good enough in the beginning. The semblance that things were getting better made her want to believe it.

But time was not kind to lies. As the seconds passed, the harder it was to keep her cracked façade whole. She could smile, she could laugh, she could enjoy life as it happened to her. Still, there was something that was always missing. A gaping hole in the middle of her chest that she covered every day.

(Y/N) had to believe that things got better. Even if at that moment it felt like things would turn worse, she needed to believe that they would change. She was getting everything she had dreamed of, everything she had worked so hard to obtain. And yet, there was a sadness inside her that didn’t allow her to enjoy it.

Two months had passed since the last time she had cried for them. Eight weeks since her eyes had dried and the pit had opened inside her. Since she had rid herself of the idea that they were ever coming back… that he was ever coming back.

She thought over the words she had told Bella. She needed to take a first step; any step that would make the life she was living real. She owed it to herself, she owed it to her mother, she owed it to her brother, she owed it to every person that had been beside her through it all.

“What’re you doing in my room, Paul?” (Y/N) was startled as she saw her friend’s reflection in the mirror before her. She had been focused on studying; her head engrossed in her books all afternoon. “Is everything okay?”

“Not exactly,” Paul responded “Jacob Black is going through his first shift and he’s freaking out. Won’t listen to anyone, not even Embry.”

“Where is he?”

“He’s in the woods with Sam and Embry.”

She followed the boy out of the house and into the darkness of the forest. Why they needed her help, she did not understand. (Y/N) was the least versed in the supernatural world. But if there was something she understood it was feeling scared and overwhelmed by it. It was an all-consuming implosion of the mind. Everything they had known as reality became a rose-colored canvas over what was truly happening.

Far into the trees and away from the town, Sam and Embry stood before a giant russet-furred wolf. The animal moved from side to side, his eyes far away and scared. The boys tried to calm him, lifting their arms in a show of peace. But it did nothing to calm the poor boy that was stuck in his wolf form.

“Guys, step away from him,” (Y/N) called as she closed the distance between her and the wolf. “He’s scared.”

“Paul, I told you not to bring her here,” Sam seethed. “She could get hurt. Again.”

“He did nothing wrong,” she reprimanded. “Just get away from him, please.”

They quickly did as told, leaving the girl and the wolf. But she could still feel her brother’s cautious stare following her every move. (Y/N) was tentative in her steps, showing Jacob no sign of danger. She stared into the brown of his eyes, trying to connect with the scared boy beyond the animal.

It had only been a week since he had confronted (Y/N) regarding Embry. He had taken her by surprise, wondering why his best friend had suddenly started to avoid him and Quil, and had started hanging out with Sam’s group. She had done what she could, but the boy was too angry to stand reason.

He had rapped harshly against her front door, his knuckles beating against the wood loudly. She had been studying, far too focused on her books to know who it could have been at that hour. It was late at night and her mother had left only two hours before to work. And there was no chance that it had been Paul or Embry since they were out on patrol that night.

She sauntered down the stairs, fear clutching at her limbs as she walked. There was no reason for anyone to be knocking on her door that loudly. It made her tremble, but she was smarter than to allow fear to overtake her.

“Jacob?” (Y/N) had called out in surprise as she swung open the door. “What are you doing here at this hour?”

“Look, (Y/N), I have nothing against you ‘cause you have always been a good friend to me,” he sighed. His eyes were red, telling her that he had been crying. “But I need to know what your brother is doing. It was weird when he took Jared, even weirder when Paul joined. Now, he’s changed Embry as well.”

“W-what do you mean he changed Embry, Jake? He was there at your birthday party last month.”

“But he wasn’t really there, was he?” Jacob continued. “He’s been avoiding Quil and me in school. He comes up with excuses or doesn’t even respond when we call to hang out. And he barely said a word to me other than ‘happy birthday’ at the party. And now, we see him hanging out with your brother and his weird gang.”

“It is not my place to talk about what happens with Embry, Jake; what happens with any of them for that matter,” she tried to explain calmly. “All I can tell you is that he definitely is not in a dangerous gang like it’s rumored. My brother is not a dangerous person.”

“Then, why can’t Embry talk to us, huh? Why is he clearly under instructions to not talk to his friends or even to his mom?” Jacob exclaimed. “She’s been asking us nonstop what’s happening with her son, and we have nothing we can say.”

“Jacob, I understand how frustrating this must be. But I can’t say anything. It’s really not my place.”

“So, what? You’re just gonna let your brother keep taking guys from the rez and making them turn their backs on everyone they know?” he said, his voice rising slightly. “It’s not right, (Y/N), and you know it.”

“I wish I could tell you what is going on, Jake, but…”

“But it’s not your place to tell. Yeah. I got that,” he scoffed. “If there are any more guys that are taken from their families because of your brother, it’ll be on you, (Y/N).”

“No one has been taken from their families, Jacob,” she replied defensively, biting down on her tongue to not anger the boy further. “They’re always free to come and go.”

“Yet they’re not free to talk,” he seethed. “I can’t believe you don’t see what they’re doing, (Y/N). You’re smart enough to know that something’s not right.”

“I’m sorry I can’t be of more help, Jake,” she sighed. “But I can promise you that your friend is safe.”

“It doesn’t matter much to me that he’s that safe when he can’t even say hi to me in the halls.”

“Jacob…”

“No, it’s fine, (Y/N). It’s not your place.”

He had left her house completely infuriated. So angry that he wouldn’t even return her waves when they ran into each other in town. And she understood his anger. Someone had come between him and his best friend. They had ripped away a relationship without a single reason.

But now, he would understand the why. Now, he would be in on the secret.

(Y/N) reached her hand out, showing Jacob that she meant no harm. Her movements were slow and calculated, always in sight of the brown wolf. She was letting him know he was okay, that he was safe.

“I know you’re scared, Jacob,” she spoke softly and calmly. “I bet you’re stressed too. Nothing that is happening is making sense.”

Jacob let out a huff in response, his eyes searching her over.

“I promise we will let you know everything that’s happening,” she continued. “But the first thing we have to do is get you back in human form. And I’m gonna help you with that, okay?”

The wolf’s head nodded, his pacing stopping dead in his track. He walked toward her outstretched hand, his snout bumping against it. He nuzzled into her, his pained eyes begging her to keep talking.

“You need to calm down,” she told him. “Center your mind and think how it feels to be in your human form. You have to focus and keep calm.”

It seemed her voice was what he needed to do the trick. The wolf stepped back and closed his eyes. She was almost sure she could feel the air changing around them as Jacob focused. And then, it all happened swiftly. One second, the russet-colored wolf towered over them. And the second, Jacob was covering up his naked body with his hands.

“Uh, is there a chance any of you brought a change of clothes?”

“Here,” Sam said as he threw the boy a bag of clothes. “There are many things you’re gonna have to learn now.”

Jacob disappeared behind a tree to get changed, running to shield himself from the others. (Y/N) had no idea what it was like for the body to go through that shift. But she could begin to imagine how disconcerting it would be to have your body turn into a massive wolf after an angry outburst.

“Thank you, (Y/N),” Paul said as they waited outside of Sam’s house as Jake was informed of everything. “We should have you over every time a new kid shifts. You’re good at calming them down.”

“I guess I can understand how it feels to not feel in control of your own body,” she sighed with a smile. “But I’m glad I could help with Jake. Just last week he was grilling me over what you guys were doing.”

“we’re not doing anything wrong.”

“Not in the eyes of the town, Paul. People think that you’re a dangerous gang that is corrupting the boys in the reservation.”

“Eh, I’m used to it,” he shrugged. “Not many people thought I was a good guy before. I doubt I could change their minds now. And, honestly, I don’t care what people think of me. Just you.”

“Well, then, you’re lucky I like you, kid,” she laughed. “You would be very sad if I didn’t.”

“I really would,” he said, making her laughter die in her throat. He was too serious. Too serious for the playful tone she had spoken with. “I couldn’t live without you.”

“Paul, what’re you…?”

“I’m serious, (Y/N),” he continued as he took her hands in his. “You’re the most important person in my life, (Y/N). I would die without you.”

“You’re important to me too, Paul,” she smiled softly. “But where is all this coming from?”

“I just… gods, I just need to tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

As Paul opened his mouth to speak, the door to the back slid open, Jared and Embry tumbling out. They wore playful smiles on their faces and were holding plates of food in their hands.

“Yo, (Y/N),” Jared called. “Jake’s asking for you.”

“We’re sort of in the middle of something here,” Paul muttered through gritted teeth. “He can wait.”

“We’ll talk later, Paul,” she smiled as she put distance between them, her heart beating a million miles a minute. “I’m gonna go see what he needs.”

“But (Y/N)…”

“Later,” she called from the door.

(Y/N) had an inkling of what Paul was going to say. She could feel it deep in her bones. The past three months had been perfect –too perfect, she guessed. The last thing she wanted was to break things off with Paul, to put distance between them. But she knew that it was what would be best for them both.

As she walked into the house, she allowed herself to push down the thought. To forget that sooner rather than later, she had to push him away. To forget that the start of her poorly mended new life crumbling was nearing. Nothing good lasts. That much she knew.

Jacob was waiting for her at the dining table, a look of shame plastered across his face. He was shaking slightly, the weight of the new information heavy on his shoulders. And she could see what he truly was. A boy that had his whole life ripped from under him.

“Hey,” she called out softly. “Jared said you wanted to talk to me.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled softly, his head snapping toward her voice. “I owe you an apology, (Y/N).”

“No, Jake. You were angry. I understand.”

“But you didn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of the anger,” he continued. “You were protecting Embry, protecting all of them. And I was pretty mean to you.”

“You don’t even make the top five, Jake,” (Y/N) laughed as she sat beside him. “But, if it makes you feel better, I accept your apology. Even if there’s nothing to apologize.”

Jacob remained quiet for a second, his gaze falling onto his hands. “Your brother said I can’t see Bella,” he peeped. “I know it’s to keep her safe, but I don’t know if I’ll be able to. I can’t just abandon her right now.”

“I understand that, Jake. But this is only for the time being,” (Y/N) tried to help. “You need to learn to control the phase. If something makes you snap when you’re with her…”

“I know. Sam told me… all of it,” he sighed. “What if I imprinted on her? She’d be allowed to know everything then, right?”

“You can’t force yourself to imprint on someone, Jake. It doesn’t work like that.”

“Not that we know of,” he smiled, hopeful. “I’m gonna try and I’ll be the first.”

“Jake,” she called as the boy jogged to the front door. “Jake!”

“Thanks for the talk, (Y/N)!”

And the next second, he was gone.

“Maybe delusion runs with the shifting gene,” she said to herself.

(Y/N) used the moment to leave Sam’s house, though. She needed to escape that conversation that Paul was sure to want. Things were changing once more and she was not ready for it. The last thing she wanted was to lose her grasp on the reality she had forged for herself. She had crafted it to the most minuscule detail and she couldn’t let him ruin it.

She ran to her home, locking herself in her room. She could feel panic building inside her. As the reins she held on her façade slipped, she could only feel the dread that was underneath. The (Y/N) from six months before was trying to claw her way out. To make her feel the same pain and sadness, making the hole in her chest grow.

But she couldn’t let it. She couldn’t let any of it out. She had to keep every last ounce of those emotions buried deep inside, locked away with the memory of him. It was the only way she would survive. The only way all of that heartbreak would have been worth it.

Instead of spending the night studying as she had planned, (Y/N) crashed on her bed, succumbing to a tiredness she didn’t know she had. She had only planned to rest her eyes for a second, not to completely fall asleep.

She was walking down a path she had come to hate, but one she still knew like the back of her hand. The road to perdition, she had branded it in her mind. She could see the bridge as she walked, begging her limbs to not keep moving. She never wanted to be back there, much less when he wasn’t there.

But the closer she got, she could make out that there was a figure standing there. A figure she had done so much to forget about, even if she never wanted to. Not really.

“(Y/N),” he breathed as she stopped in front of him. “God, how I’ve longed to see your face again.”

“Carlisle,” she said, her voice breaking as tears burned in the back of her eyes. She couldn’t walk to him. Too scared that he would disappear if she did. “Where have you been?”

“Being a coward, I guess,” he replied. “I have missed you, my love. So much more than I could ever tell you.”

“Then, show me,” she commanded in a whisper. “Show me how much you truly have.”

Carlisle extended his hand and she gladly took it, sighing happily as the coldness enveloped her. He pulled her over the treaty line, making her body crash into his. He placed one hand on the low of her back as the other cradled her cheek. His amber eyes looked intently into hers, the warmest smile he could muster spread across his lips.

“Kiss me,” she whispered and Carlisle obliged.

He pressed his lips softly to hers, love slipping past his mouth. It was just as she had remembered it. Just as cold, just s perfect. It was what she had been missing for months. A true connection of love and passion. Her hands traveled up his chest, feeling. He felt so real.

“I miss you, Carlisle,” she cried as they parted, his thumb wiping away the tears that fell. “Why won’t you come back?”

“I’m right here, my love.”

“No, you’re not,” she sighed defeatedly. “This is only a dream. I know it is. Because you’re not actually here.”

“But I am, (Y/N),” he smiled. “You can feel me. You can see me. You can hear me. Who’s to say that I’m not.”

“No, Carlisle,” she said sadly, taking a step back. “If you were here, I wouldn’t be able to wake up.”

She stood on the railing of the bridge, making sure she was past the treaty line. She looked down, the river angry and rushing, rocks piled up everywhere.

“What are you doing, (Y/N)? Get down from there.”

“I can’t do this, Carlisle,” she sobbed. “Not even in my dreams. Because when I wake, you won’t be there, and I’ll be right back where I started.”

Without another thought, she let herself fall, and she waited for the crash.

But it never came. She woke up in a sweat a second later, clutching at her racing heart. The beginning of the end, she thought. She could feel herself crumbling, and it scared her. 

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[nerdiel-has-no-braincells]

Through Glass

summary: Diluc blamed you, resented you even for events outside of your control or that you hadn’t done. Now alone, he reflects on his actions and the way he treated you

pairing: Diluc x you

cw: language, angst

a/n: I’ve been wanting to write something for Diluc that didn’t particularly end happy, and then I heard this song while on my way home today and instead of making it a love story like the lyrics suggest, I wanted to make it the opposite because angst

song: Through Glass - Hands Like Houses, lyrics will be italicized

It had been 8 months since you left. Today would have been your anniversary, Diluc remembered as he stared at the sky through his office window. His fingers were playing with a ring that he had bought for you. He planned to propose to you today if he hadn’t fucked everything up.

I’m told that love was golden

He was stupid. He was stressed about the pile of work on his desk and the upcoming Weinlesefest, an incredibly busy time for the winery. And yet he lost his anger on you constantly, ignored you, even hated you for no apparent reason.

Something to hold when the going’s tough

You hadn’t even done anything wrong. You did what he asked for help with, and when things happened outside of your and his control, he blamed you, his entire being becoming cold as he insulted you, tearing you apart with his words. And you took it quietly, looking down as he spoke, flinching at his words as tears formed in your eyes.

After 4 years together, you ended it, not being able to take his hot and cold attitude any longer.

And I’ve seen what love can mean when

It’s laughable, really. Because you were together for so long, he took advantage of your patience and kindness, took you for granted because you were always there.

The good times were always so good. Laying in bed on a rare day off cuddling, laughing and kissing. Everything seemed right in the world like you were both meant to be together.

Someone believes in you more than you ever could

But during the bad times, shit like how he treated you happened.

It cost him everything.

I felt that same, same rhythm in the same, same rush

You left a giant hole in his chest that could never be healed without you. Your touch is now a ghost, the feeling of being there but without actually being there.

Got that same, same feeling from the same touch

What else could he do now? He hurt you so badly. You used to visit him during the times when he would bartend, waited for him to come home safely late at night when he would become the Dark Knight Hero.

It’s like a wildfire growing ‘tween my head and my heart

He’s tried to check up on you ever since you packed up and stayed with your friend in Liyue. Your friend had gotten to the point where she asked him to no longer send messages in order for you to heal. Your heart was just as broken as his was.

He would always plan to visit Liyue, but his duties always called for him to stay here in the winery, to keep the Abyss Order mages away from Mondstadt.

He couldn’t take it anymore, he had to see you.

I can only wonder why I can’t see in color without you

Closing his eyes as he leaned into his chair, your face came into view. You were so beautiful when you first began to date. He was ready to open his heart to someone and he chose you, the only person who grabbed a hold of his heart. But when you left, that beauty went away.

The last time he saw you, you were packing your things and leaving your shared home within the winery. You looked haggard, the life within you dissipated.

And I don’t wanna try ‘cause I see all the colors surround you

He had done that to you. He used your love for him against you and it ruined you.

You light up the dark in me

He couldn’t take it any longer. He had to see you. He wanted to get on his knees and ask for forgiveness, for you to come back home where you belong with him.

You light up the dark in me

He realized his mistakes and he will promise you that you will be treated as you deserve. There will be no more bad days where his sharp tongue brings you down.

He made plans to leave for Liyue as soon as possible. He worked overnight to make sure his work would be taken care of. He didn’t want anything standing in his way any longer in order to see you.

I’ve heard, your vision blurs

Getting work out of the way, he made way to Liyue. He made sure his staff would take care of everything while he was gone.

He took the time as he traveled as to what he would say to you when he saw you. For the first time in months, he felt his heart beat against his chest. His nerves took a hold of him, but he refused to let that come between him and you.

Your stomach turns and you trip over every word

As the scenery changes from the Spring-like Mondstadt to the Autumn-like Liyue, he realized he was getting closer to seeing you.

I felt that same, same rhythm in the same, same rush

His heart pounded against his chest. As it began to grow dark, he had no choice but to stay at the Wangshu Inn. He was getting closer to you.

That night, he had the same dream he had every night after you left.

You were both in bed, naked under the covers as the two of you awoke at the sunlight shining in your room. You looked at him with heavy-lidded eyes as a smile grew on your face. The same smile had shown on his as he wrapped his arms around you, holding you tight.

It was a peaceful morning, one where he didn’t have work to do so he could laze about with you.

Got that same, same feeling from the same touch

Kissing all over your face, you erupted into giggles, playfully pushing his face away without actually pushing. He continued to pepper your face in kisses. He missed you so much.

To stop you from pretending to push his face away, he flipped you over to lay on your back, laying his body on top of yours as he continued to pepper your face. Your giggles turned into full on laughter and squeals as you tried to get away.

It’s like a wildfire growing ‘tween my head and my heart

Diluc’s laughter rang through the air along with yours. All was right in the world.

Waking up to the alarm he set, he quickly got ready and set out for the harbor where your friend lived. He was close as he could smell the sea and feel the cold breeze.

I can only wonder why I can’t see in color without you

Finally, he could see the harbor. A warm feeling grew within his chest. He was so close to you.

As he entered Liyue, he looked around for you, even asking the residents about you. They pointed him in the direction of your new home. It seemed that you moved out of your friend’s place and took up residence here.

His heart beat loudly as he made his way towards your home until he heard your laugh. It caused him to freeze.

And I don’t wanna try ‘cause I see all the color surround you

There you were. You walked around the corner with a taller man with long dark hair and golden tips. The world glowed around you as your beauty came back to you, all the exhaustion left you and he felt his body start to feel warm as his heart pumped loudly in his chest.

You light up the dark in me

Taking a step towards you, he thought of what to say to you. He practiced and thought it over millions of times but now that you were in front of him, he felt his throat clamp shut.

You and the man stopped in front of what seemed to be a mortuary and you continued to talk to him.

This was it. He had to call your name.

You light up the dark in me

The man’s hand reached up and pushed your hair behind your ear before cupping your face. He smiled at you, his eyes glistening with so much love. You had leaned into his touch and looked at him the same way before he leaned down to place a kiss on your lips.

Diluc froze completely. The glow around you only brightened as his heart ached.

You moved on. You were able to heal from the heartbreak you experienced and gave your heart to another.

Quickly turning on his heels, he ran out of Liyue. Once he was out of the city, he stopped. Summoning his claymore, he began to destroy the rocks around him as he yelled out in frustration.

Frustration of how he treated you.

Frustration for you moving on without him.

Frustration at himself for losing you.

He stopped swinging his claymore around and stood there, his breath heavy before the tears fell. He collapsed onto the ground, leaning against a rock he hadn’t destroyed and cried. He lost the love of his life due to his own mistakes. Even if he wanted to make it up to you, he no longer could.

It was all his fault.

You light up the dark in me

Not gonna lie, this broke my heart. I always have the need to give all of the bbgs a happy ending because they’re precious bbs who deserve to be happy

( ; ω ; )

Genshin Impact is created and owned by MiHoYo

©️nerdiel-has-no-braincells Please do not copy and post without approval. Reblogs and comments are ok with me!

[anarcoqueer1994]

Fix it fic for this part 1

Eddie ripped the bandage off first. He seen the way Steve was acting shy and embarrassed after he came. Eddie had seen that before. It was the same anxious look every "straight" guy had given him after ever hook up he has ever had. He knew going into it that Steve couldn't see him as a real relationship. He knew Steve was just horny and he could help. He was used to this, so why did it hurt so bad when Steve left.

He tried to assure Steve(and himself) that nothing had to change, and Steve said the same. But then Steve left, and he knew he fucked up his friendship with the best guy he has ever met. Steve couldn't look at him the same. He was obviously uncomfortable.

Maybe it hurts so badly because Eddie let his feelings get in the way. He knew he was in love with Steve and still did this stupid shit. He had loved the way Steve felt beneath him, the way the other man's body melted under his touch, but it wasn't worth losing one of his closest friends.

He needs a distraction, anything not to think of Steve. Maybe after a while it won't be weird anymore. For now he'll try to keep some distance.

He decides to call up some fling he had in the back of a club in Indy. The guy was a few years older than him, but he had been fun; he was in a metal head, liked DnD, was obsessed with horror. Honestly, he was perfect for Eddie. He had told him to call him up if Eddie was ever in the area.

He gets ahold of him, setting up a date with him the following night. He really hopes this will be enough to get rid of the giant Steve shaped hole in his heart, only made bigger by this ill-advised hookup.

~~

"Steve..." Robin says softly as they are cuddling on his couch. She is running her fingers through his hair as he lays his head in her lap.

"Yea?" He whimpers, having been crying for the better part of an hour, not that he would let anyone other than Robin see.

"You should call him tomorrow..."

"Ugh, " Steve practically whines. "What for?"

"To talk about this. I know I'm not crazy, I've seen the way Eddie looks at you. This has to be some crazy misunderstanding." She insists.

"If you knew he "liked me," he sniffles. "Why didn't you say anything before?"

"Because I was hoping you two dinguses would figure it out on your own terms and shit, like me and Vickie. But obviously you both are too dense even after having your tongue down each other’s throats." She smirks.

"Ew, gross dude." He says, even if he has a little smile. "Do you really think he likes me like that, even though he said that stuff?"

"Yea, why wouldn't he, Stevie?" She assures him.

This gives him hope. Maybe Eddie was the one for him. After all, he wasn't blind. He had seen Eddie staring at him before, but he had tried not to read too much into it. But maybe he can read into it. Maybe Eddie was just confused, and he does want Steve as much as Steve wants him. "Ill think about calling him." Steve says, not hiding the smile in his voice as he does.

After that, they fall asleep watching some dumb movie.

Steve wakes up first. He decides to listen to Robin, give Eddie a call. He really wants to talk to him in person, though.

It's early, he knows he will probably be waking up Eddie, but he just can't wait. His conversation with Robin last night, really gave him hope that maybe he is overreacting. Maybe Eddie does want him, does want to love him, be with him.

He dials the phone and waits until Eddie sleepily answers, "Hello?"

"Uh, hi Eds..." Steve says shyly.

Eddie feels his chest tighten, anxiety from last night comes flooding in. He tries to push it down. "Oh, hey Steve. What's um up?"

"Ah. Um, nothing, really. I was just wondering, or I mean, I wanted to ask, do you want to maybe come over tonight?" And like hang out and talk?" Steve sounds nervous.

Eddie’s heart sinks. He knows Steve is a nice guy and probably wants to talk about last night and let him down easy. Or maybe he is trying just ignore what happened and show Eddie that nothing has to change. But he can't handle that right now. So he chokes out as confidently as he can. "Sorry, man. I got a date tonight. Maybe some other time?"

"Oh, a date. Um, cool. Yea that's fine. Another time" Steve replies, hiding the crushing feeling of getting his heartbroken again. There is a silence between them, so he quickly adds. "Well talk to you later." And hangs up.

Robin was wrong. Last night didn't mean a God damn thing to Eddie. He had some date tonight to prove it. He knows Eddie is not his, but it still hurts so much that there was someone Eddie wanted to date, not just fuck like Steve.

Steve hurts. He hurts worse than when Nancy called his love bullshit. This really was proof that another person he thought he may have connected with doesn't want his love either. He isn't worth it. He drags himself back to bed. Robin was up when he got back to his room. She was getting ready to leave, had the opening shift at the store. She sees the heartbreak on Steve's face.

"Are you still upset about last night. I thought we talked about this, Steve. Just call Eddie. It has to be a misunderstanding."

Steve's head is already buried in the pillow as he mumbles, "I did..."

"What?" She can barely hear him.

He lifts his head. "I said, I did. I called him, asked to hang out tonight so we can talk, and he has a date." He says shortly.

"What do you mean he has a date?" She says, confused on why Eddie would have a date after what he did last night. She had been sure for months that these idiots loved each other.

"I mean, he has a date with someone else. Someone better." Steve's voice cracks, tear welling in his eyes.

Was she wrong about what she thought she saw between them? And if she was, did Eddie know he is breaking Steve's heart? Was he leading her best friend on. For a moment, she sees red, face only softening when she meets Steve sad eyes. She sits back on the edge of the bed, "How about I call off, and we just sit around eating ice cream?" She pets his hair.

"No, Robs." He sniffles. "I think I wanna be alone. Go to work, okay?

She doesn't try to argue. she just nods her head. Steve is stubborn. "Okay...I'll be by later, okay?" Besides, Vickie is outside waiting to drive her.

"Yeah, okay." He manages to push out before burying his head again, content to lay in bed and sulk all day.

And Robin goes to work. But when she gets off, she does not go straight to Steve's.

~~

Eddie is running around the trailer, trying to get ready for this date. If he is going to make it to Indy, he has to leave soon. He wants to look perfect; he hopes this guy will be a long-term thing for him, someone who wants him completely. He tries not to think of Steve; tries not to be upset that Steve doesn't want him, tries to remember that at least Steve is his friend.

He is looking in the mirror, trying to fix his hair when he is drawn out of his thoughts by a pound at the door. Wayne is at Claudia's for the weekend, and he was not expecting anyone, so he doesn't know who it can be. When he doesn't answer right away, there is another pound and then a voice. "I know you're in there, Munson. The van is here." It's Robin...and she sounds angry? He is confused why as he answers the door.

"Calm down, Buckley. I was coming." He says as he flings open the door.

Without warning, she is pushing past him, making her way in.

"Yea, sure come on in. " He mumbles as she passes. "What are you doing here? I'm kind of busy getting ready." He says louder so she can hear.

"That's why I'm here, dingus!" She looks annoyed as she stands in his living room. "Why are you doing this to Steve?!"

"Doing what?" Eddie asks dumbly. How can he be doing anything to Steve. He was the one here with the heartache.

She takes a deep breath, steadying herself, trying not to lose her temper. "You really hurt him."

"I know. I shouldn't have put him that position last night, and..."

"No, you don't know." She cuts him off. "Steve really likes you, and you shut him down. But I convinced him to call you, and then I find out you are going on a date? So what, Eddie? Did you use his feelings just to screw around? Or are you really that blind?"

Eddie doesn't know how to process any of this. He is confused, Robin’s words racing through his head. "Steve likes me?"

"Oh my god!" She sounds exasperated. "Why the hell would he let you jack him off?!"

"Oh God, he told you that?" He isn't surprised, honestly. He should gave known Steve would tell Robin. "I thought he just wanted to mess around, Robs. That's how every other straight guy I have hooked up with was. I didn't want to make him feel weird."

"Oh, so you are that blind? Steve isn't just some "straight guy." I mean he doesn't really hide that he is into dudes with us." She rolls her eyes. "But that's not the point. Do you really think Steve is the kind of guy that would just use his friends like that? Has he ever given you any reason to think he would do that to you, Eds?" Her voice is softer, realizing her friends really are just oblivious idiots.

Eddie’s face drops. "No... he hasn't." He drops on the couch, putting his face in his hands. "Fuck." He sighs. "I fucked up, didn't I? I hurt Steve."

"Yea, you did." She agrees bluntly, before sitting next to him. "But, I think you can fix it."

~~

Steve eventually made his way out of bed, not bothering to get dressed in anything other than sweatpants and an old t-shirt, still in his glasses. He tries to ignore his feelings, trying to distract himself with TV. He feels almost numb, accepting that he doesn't get a happy ending. He was delusional to think otherwise.

He hears a car pull up outside and assumes it's Vickie dropping Robin off. He does not bother to get up, she has a key to his house. But suddenly he can hear music blasting from the outside. As he listens more he can almost make out the lyrics to "Burning for Love" by Bon Jovi, one of his favorite songs. The music keeps playing, and he can't figure out why they are just sitting out their blasting music.

He decides to get up and see what's going on, a little annoyed at Robin for sitting out their so long with the music glaring. But when he makes it to the window by the door, it's not Robin out there, it's Eddie. The music is coming from his van, as he awkwardly fidgets in front of the door, trying to decide if he should knock. He doesn't notice Steve staring, but Steve can't help it. There Eddie was with a few shiny stones in his hands and bouquet, hair tied up in a messy bun, and he is wearing an honest to god button-down shirt. He looks adorable.

But Steve's even more confused than before. Why was Eddie there? Shouldn't he be on his way to his date? Against his better judgment, he finds himself walking to and opening his front door before Eddie has a chance to knock.

Eddie looks like deer in headlights when the door opens. "Eddie, what are you doing here?"

"Uh, um. Here." He shoves the bouquet of pretty pink roses to Steve's chest, along with the shiny rocks, and Steve swears Eddie is blushing.

Steve takes the flower, tries to keep a straight face, tries to avoid getting his hopes up. "I...I don't understand." He admits.

"I..." Eddie lets out a sigh. "Listen, I am an idiot, okay? I messed up really bad last night."

"Eds," Steve tries to say.

"No, Stevie. Please let me finish." Eddie looks at Steve, hoping he will give him a chance. Steve just nods.

"I don't want things not to change. I lo...like you so much." He stops short of love, knowing it may be too soon for that. "And I ws just scared that you wouldn't want me like that, I mean, why would you? You're Steve Harrington. But I was just scared and I didn't want to freak you out and...." Eddie is rambling, nervously fidgeting with his hands.

As Eddie talks, Steve feels his heart swell. Robin was right, this was all a dumb misunderstanding. Eddie wants him and wants to be with him. As the song playing in the background comes to an end, and Steve can see Eddie drowning in his own ramblings, he uses his free hand to grab Eddie's shirt, making him go quiet as Steve pulls him into a kiss.

It takes Eddie’s brain a few seconds to catch up before he is kissing back, letting his hands fall to Steve's waist.

When they finally pull apart, Steve smiles "I lo...like you too.,"

Thanks for reading and thank you for those who asked to be tagged. I know it's rough. Sorry if I forgot anyone <3.

@steve-the-hairrington @starlight-archer @plyerice27 @notsopretty-notsopink @anaibis @thing-a-ling @bjtremike @lololol-1234 @newtstabber @vampireinthesun @super-cosmic-library @mentalcyborg @plumchaos @alyelf @sofadofax @kissaphobic-kas @koyislosinghismind @starman-jpg @just-a-tiny-void @zelpharnorlee @deadontheinside20 @bejeweledbaby @bat-outta-hel

[headknight-oh]

The Second Library of Alexandria

Constellations of Stars and Bruises

Summary: In which Daryl and Finn are on watch and Daryl gives and receives his first hickeys. Prison Era between seasons 3 and 4

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Merle flashback, queer slurs used both derogatorily and reclaimed, suggestive and sensual content but nothing explicit

Hope yall enjoy!

Daryl was put on guard duty with Finn a month or so after the new people started to move into the prison. They hadn’t talked outside of council meetings in a while, not that they were super close to begin with, but he thought it was nice to be on guard with someone that he knows. There were far too many people that he didn’t know around now. As the two settled into the shelled out guard tower, they subjected him to whatever chatter came to their mind, which was an unpredictable flow of updates about all the new kids and how Judith was starting to teethe and how if he wanted them to fix the giant hole in his shirt, he would actually have to drop it in the new mending bin, and how they might be able to move his shirt up to the top of the pile for some adequate compensation.

“Adequate compensation,” he mocked, cracking a smile.

“Yeah. You can either suck my dick or take me to a library next time you go out. I’m also open to offers of equal or greater value upon your suggestion,” they joked.

They laughed, and he scoffed. “Guess I’m findin a fukin library.”

They laughed together then. But there was a heat at the back of his neck and on his ears, as he wondered, not for the first time, if they were fully joking. They did shit like that all the time: making suggestive little jokes, calling him pretty boy and sweetheart, the works. But there was always this air of sincerity about what they said, a look in their eyes or a quirk to their smile that had Daryl thinking that maybe they were only half joking. Or maybe he was just hoping that was what it was. Most of the time, he chalked it up to them playfully trying to get a rise out of him. He tried not to think about it too often, though.

They sat in silence for a bit after that, listening to the euphonious hum of surrounding wildlife and the monstrous din of the dead down at the far fence. At one point Finn stood to stretch, groaning a bit as they cracked their back loudly.

“Damn, that was a good one,” they chuckled. “Oh!” Their hands began searching their person as they said, “I bought us a little treat.” They produced a small baggie and a lighter from their back pocket. Upon opening the bag, an earthy, skunky smell spread through the air.

“The fuck’d you get weed from?” he asked as they pulled the joint from the bag.

“Well apparently,” they said, lighting the joint and breathing in deeply, “The medical facility on that map Glenn found was a medical dispensary.” They exhaled out over the side of the railing. “He took me to read medicine names, and I came away stocked with bud for the foreseeable future.” They took another drag then extended the joint to him. He eyed it, watching smoke curl from the glowing tip. They clocked his hesitation. “Promise I don’t have cooties. But if you don’t want to, I’ll happily smoke it all myself. If I have to deal with walking corpses AND Rickolas for the rest of my life, I’m not doing it sober.”

Daryl laughed at that, and they smiled. They offered the smoke up with another motion and a quirk of their eyebrow. He reached out gingerly after a beat, taking and inhaling. It felt different in his lungs than his usual tobacco smoke, but it was nice.

Finn hummed an unfamiliar tune while they smoked together, eyes turned skyward just as often as they scanned the fenceline. Daryl tried to distract himself from the way their fingers brushed his when they passed the joint, but it became much more difficult as his head grew fuzzier, and he found himself staring. His eyes landed on their skin, their shoulder and collar bone and chest, the exposed bits that showed where their overshirt slid down to reveal their tank top underneath. In the moonlight, he saw little bruises in various shades of purple peppered across their skin. His fuzzy brain tried to make sense of what he was seeing, zoning out with his eyes glued to a particularly nasty looking bruise near the neckline of their tank top.

They must have been talking for a bit, because they were soon waving a hand in front of his face. “My eyes are not in my tits, Daryl my dear.”

He blinked and looked up at their smirking face. They weren’t angry but rather amused. He looked away quickly, mumbling an apology as he handed the dying joint back over. They laughed, and his face and core grew warm.

Flustered, he tried to wave it off, grunting. “The hell happened to you?”

They looked down, puzzled before laughing again and saying, “That swinger couple. That’s what happened to me. But that’s nothing, you should see what they did to my thighs.”

His brain took a moment to process. First, the thought of their thighs covered in the same kinds of dark bruises made his stomach flip in a way he wasn’t quite familiar with. Then, “Swinger couple?” He knew that Georgia wasn’t the best place for people like Finn, but he'd thought anyone they brought back to the prison would at least be civil to them. Why were they laughing at someone hurting them? He felt a different kind of heat in his face: a protective rage.

“Yeah. They’re in their 30s. Chris and Lilly. They’re pretty nice. I typically don’t have threesomes with straight people, but it’s not like there’s a massive dating pool, ya know?”

Daryl didn’t say anything. He just stared at one of the bruises on their chest, cut in half by the neckline of their shirt. His heart sped up as his brain caught up. Threesome, sex, hickeys. Oh. His brain reeled with unwarranted images of what he assumed had happened. He swallowed thickly. He stared for too long again. Suddenly Finn was snapping their fingers in his face, saying, “If you keep staring at my tits like that, I’m going to start charging.”

He stuttered out garbled excuses, their low chuckling not doing anything to help the red in his cheeks or the thoughts in his head. He took the joint back and gestured towards their bruising, “Don’t that hurt?”

They shrugged. “Just as much as any other hickey.”

He scoffed and pretended to actually scan the area surrounding the prison, “Wouldn’t know much ‘bout that.”

They let out a curious noise. “You telling me someone as hot as you has never had a hickey before?”

He just grunted and tried to wave past it. He could already feel his ears burning.

They took that as answer enough. “Huh. Would not have guessed. Well, if you ever get a hankering for your first hickey, I have a mouth,” they offered.

He snorted. “Yeah. And that swinger couple’s got two.” It came out a little harsher, more spiteful, than he anticipated, but they didn’t seem to notice.

They laughed. “True. I can put in a good word for you if you want. Or you can join us next time. Three mouths are better than two, or whatever.”

And that’s what got him. Not necessarily the idea of three mouths, but their mouth specifically, between his thighs, sucking one of those little purple bruises. He made a little noise like a satisfied hum as he exhaled his smoke.

“Like that, huh?” They plucked the joint from his fingers, taking one last drag before putting the small butt out. “I will warn you, they’re biters. Obviously. “They gestured to their chest, laughing. “Might get a bit much if you’re not used to it.”

Daryl looked over at them again. Some of those bruises were pretty dark. He’d had bruises that dark before plenty of times in his life, and he couldn’t imagine any scenario where getting one would feel nice. Maybe it was the weed making a mess of his brain or the latent hormones, but something moved him to speak.

“Get me used to it then.”

Their eyebrows shot up and their smile widened. “Do not play this game of gay chicken with me, Daryl Dixon. My most committed relationship has always been to the bit.”

His brows knit together in confusion. “Gay chicken… What?” Maybe the weed was just hitting him a little harder than he thought. Or maybe he just couldn’t make sense of what Finn was saying, like usual.

Finn chuckled. “I mean,” they corrected, “I will gladly give you a hickey if that’s what you actually want, and you aren’t just giving me shit back.”

His momentary courage to speak was gone. He looked down, fidgeting in his seat and chewing at a nonexistent hangnail. His face burned. He made a noncommittal noise, turning back to survey the fenceline. Suddenly, there was a soft hand on his forearm. He followed Finn’s hand with his eyes, down their wrist, over the tattoos on their forearm, up to their bruised shoulder and neck, then finally to their face. It was gentle and open, and their probing eyes had softened into something like fondness.

They moved slowly then, pulling his finger away from his mouth and tilting his head up. He allowed them to position him, breath caught in his chest.

“Ok,” they said softly, much softer than their normal theatre-like projection. “Where do you want it? Shoulder? Collarbone? Neck? We can make the whole prison talk with that one.” Their little joke broke the tension a bit, and he let out a nervous laugh.

“Don’t know. Whatever you want.” He cleared his throat a bit, fiddling with the hem of his shirt.

“Hmm, dealer's choice,” Finn mused as they moved from their seat to straddle his lap. Daryl made a surprised noise in his throat, but stayed still. Almost too still. Finn surveyed him with their hands on his shoulders. They shook them a little, wiggling their own head in time. “Relax,” they said. “I’ll be gentle.”

He nodded, exhaling shakily. Finn brushed the ends of his hair off and away from his neck, letting their fingers trace down his jugular to the collar of his shirt. They could feel his racing pulse no doubt. They pulled his shirt to the side slightly, revealing his collarbone. It was flushed scarlet just like his face. Finn leaned in slow, almost giving him a chance to push them away. He didn’t.

When Finn’s lips made contact with his skin, his heart leapt. They kissed at the area a bit before grazing their teeth over his skin. An involuntary groan escaped Daryl’s lips before he could stop it. A warm tongue soothed over his skin before the teeth were back, harder this time. Finn bit down gently and sucked at the skin of his chest. His breath began to quicken as Finn pulled small whines out of him. He was vaguely aware of the pain of it, the breaking of blood vessels and the dull stabbing of their teeth. Finn had bitten him once in the past, in a much less desirable situation than the one they were in now. Daryl much preferred the way they bit him now. This pain was covered in a cloud of pleasure, something he’d felt very seldom in his life. His heart pounded, and his face felt like it was on fire. He had to will his blood away from below his belt; he might die of embarrassment if he got hard while they were in his lap. Like some kind of high school kid.

Daryl felt one of Finn’s hands move to the opposite side of his neck, cradling softly and applying gentle pressure to the base of his skull and jaw. He leaned his head down into their hand without realizing his body was moving. Finn readjusted the angle of their head, licking the area before returning to sucking at the skin. They opened their mouth a bit wider before digging their teeth back into his flesh. Daryl was vaguely aware of the small “ah ah” noise that slipped out of his mouth. Finn hummed contentedly with their mouth still on him.

Before they pulled away, they soothed the reddened area with a few open mouthed kisses that trailed away from the blooming purple on his chest. As they pulled back, their thumb wiped away some of the remaining saliva, still holding back the collar of his shirt. They took a moment to admire their handiwork.

“Pretty good first hickey, if I do say so myself. What you think?” They smiled and looked back up at his face. Daryl blinked a few times to clear the fog from his head before looking down. He could just make out the red and purple of the forming bruise in the corner of his vision.

“Looks good,” he grunted. He suddenly became aware that his hands had settled on Finn’s hips on their own accord. He quickly dropped them.

Finn laughed. They patted his shoulder. “I’m glad it looks good. But how did it feel? That was the whole point.”

Daryl struggled to reel in his thoughts. Finn was acting so casual, as if they sat in his lap and bit his chest all the time, as if they did things like this all the time. Which he supposed they must have. It made him feel conscious of how much it had affected him in turn. He grunted.

“Felt nice,” was all he could manage. His throat was a bit tight and his ears still burned. He could feel the heat from Finn’s body through his clothes.

They smiled. “I’m glad. Wanna give me one for reciprocity’s sake? Or do you want me out of your lap before you jizz your jorts?”

His nose crinkled in disgust. “I ain’t gonna… do that.”

Finn laughed again. “I know. This time I am just giving you shit. But what you say? I got some prime real estate begging to be filled.” They tapped the side of their neck where there was a circle of unmarked skin.

Daryl’s head began to swirl again. They talked about it like it was nothing, like they were shooting the shit or sharing a story. It made him feel funny, vulnerable. But that was quickly drowned out by a seemingly magnetic pull to their neck. He nodded, and they held their hair out of the way.

His lips met their skin gently, unsure and tense. He tried to mimic what they had done to him, starting with gentle nibbles then sucking and running his tongue over the skin. Finn hummed and brought their hand to his head, running their fingers into his hair. He liked that. He liked it even more when he bit down harder and their hand gripped his hair tightly, pulling slightly. Finn let out a sharp breath as Daryl moaned into their neck, sucking and biting and kissing. What he lacked in technique and experience, he made up for in enthusiasm. His head felt all fuzzy again as he lost himself in the feeling of their skin against his lips, the smell of their shampoo, the taste of salt and soap. He had been so tense when he’d received his, his body getting used to the sensation and his brain reeling from the novelty of it all. Now, he allowed the fuzzy, floaty feeling to engulf him as his body moved on its own, small noises coming from his mouth.

Finn was making those small noises too, low grunts in the back of their throat, pleasant sighs, hissed “fuck”s. It made a knot in his stomach tighten.

Eventually, they made him come up for air, pulling at his hair firmly. His pupils were blown wide when he met their eyes and his breath came quickly. His hands had wound their way around Finn’s waist again, tight and grasping at the fabric of their shirt. They ran a hand over his brow, brushing stray hair away.

“Well don’t you look pretty like that,” Finn said, running their thumb over his bottom lip to wipe away some saliva. He began to relax a bit as his breath evened out and his heart slowed down. He found the new bruise he’d just left on their neck; it was small and mostly red, but it was still there. He briefly thought that he would like it much more if it were the only one they had, if his marks were the only ones on them. He pushed that thought away for later.

Finn smoothed his hair down and sat back a bit. “You’re a quick study. That felt nice. A little more suction next time, and that shit will be bright purple.” They quickly tapped his nose with their forefinger before swinging their leg up and off his lap. As they settled back into their own seat, Daryl was saddened slightly at the loss of their warmth against him.

Finn looked up at the stars for a moment then back over to him. He didn’t quite know what to do with himself now. Finn was so calm next to him, like this kind of thing happened every day. He supposed to them, it might. He pushed that thought away too. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Finn smiled at that.

“Feel adequately prepared?” they asked.

He nodded. “Ya could say that.” He bit at his lip, tearing off a bit of dead skin. “Don’t think I’d like those other two though. I don’t know them. Wouldn’t be the same.” Merle had always said that was his problem, that he had to know someone, that he should just be able to fuck the whore his brother had bought for him and not waste his money with stiff shoulders and a limp dick. Daryl hadn’t even known her name. Merle hadn’t cared about her name though; he’d ‘got his money’s worth’ himself then spent the rest of the night poking fun at Daryl for being broken or not a real man or a faggot or a forever virgin. Daryl shook the memory out of his head. Memories of Merle still hurt, even bad ones.

Finn just nodded. “I get that. I used to make out with my friends when we went out instead of finding a stranger. It was nicer. And I knew where their mouths had been.” They laughed at that. “We were like a troop of bonobos.”

Daryl’s face scrunched in confusion. “The fuck is a bonobo?”

Finn laughed. “A kind of ape. Them and chimps are our closest genetic relatives. Bonobos have a complex social structure that relies on them all fucking each other though. Strengthens social bonds and keeps aggressive behaviors low. Humans are the same way to me. Fucking, kissing, sexuality, sensuality. It’s all intimate, but people do it for a bunch of reasons. Love, romance, friendship, fondness, religion, therapy, curiosity. It’s nice.” They looked over at him, gesturing to the mark they made. “Means I can give my friends hickies, and it only means I’m a little bit of a faggot.”

Daryl laughed at that. “Thought you was a dyke.” Daryl remembered them using a sarcastic ‘it’s because I’m a dyke, isn’t it’ to win an argument with Glenn the other day.

“Sometimes one, sometimes the other, sometimes both. It’s a very fun little schrodinger’s sexuality situation I’ve got going on here. Any way you slice it, it comes away queer.”

Daryl grunted. He didn’t quite get it, but he didn’t think he entirely needed to. “Does that mean I got my first hickey from a guy?”

Finn smiled, eyes soft, and he saw that fondness again. “Yeah Daryl,” they said. “You got your first hickey from a guy.”

Daryl smiled back at them before turning to look out at the moonlit landscape around them. Finn followed suit, silent in thought. Suddenly, their laughter rang out again.

“You also got a boner from biting a guy sitting in your lap.”

Daryl stammered, face blazing red. He’d gotten so lost in the sensation of sucking on their neck that he hadn’t even noticed. It had gone down now, but even so, Finn was right. He mumbled a sheepish apology.

Finn shook their head, giggling. “It’s all good. I’m just giving you grief.” They kicked their feet up on the railing, leaning their seat back a bit to look at the sky. Their face was alight with silver starlight.

Daryl covered his burning face with his hands, feeling the need to run and hide and never show his face again. But he didn’t. Instead, he waited for Finn to change the subject. He knew they would eventually if he left them in silence long enough for their mind to wander. He sat in awkward silence for an eternity as the next five minutes passed, unable to look at them or breathe properly. Eventually, they spoke.

“I know that I am mortal by nature, and ephemeral; but when I trace at my pleasure the windings to and fro of the heavenly bodies I no longer touch the earth with my feet: I stand in the presence of Zeus himself and take my fill of ambrosia.” They traced patterns in the stars that had no name, grinning in awe. Their voice had the lilt of recitation, of quoting, of remembering.

Daryl was grateful for a new avenue of conversation. “What’s that?”

“Ptolemy. The philosopher from ancient Alexandria.” Their eyes remained trained on the sky, absorbing the cloudy beauty of the milky way now that there was almost no artificial light to drown it out.

“It’s nice. Pretty.” Daryl was finally able to chance a look over at them, his previous shame forgotten.

They hummed. “I think so too.”

Finn looked over at him with a smile that he returned slowly. The rest of the night passed in relative silence, or at least was less eventful. The hum of crickets and the moans of the dead filled the air as the stars ended their journey across the night sky. The warm reds and oranges of sunrise began to paint the trees around the prison. The sky really was beautiful.

[hsdiaries]

‘til forever

chapter one - 3.3k

master list

I used to judged my therapists, based on how their offices were decorated. Plants and warm tones meant they were safe and understanding. Clean lines and modern furniture meant they were there for just a paycheck. Obviously, this wasn't a set in stone fact, but the concept and idea worked in my mind. It worked as a way to avoid therapy for months - until I walked into Jackie's office. Rugs and pleasing mixed patterns, scattered green plants and mix matched thrifted furniture. Her office screamed care and compassion, so I couldn't walk away any longer. I no longer had a valid excuse other than I was scared to deal with everything. I was scared to deal with the fact, Louis was dead.

"You know, if I close my eyes, that night plays back in my memory like a nightmare I can't escape. I remember the look on Niall's face when he came to our house to let me know what had happened. He didn't even have to say anything for me to know something was wrong. His eyes" I paused, swallowing, inhaling sharply, "His eyes were blank, as if no words or emotion could describe what he was feeling at the moment - like there wasn't a feeling known to us that could describe the ache he was carrying in his heart."

"Are you still close with, Niall?" Jackie asked, sipping tea from a giant orange mug, definitely meant for noodles and not tea.

"Yes. He's the only one of our friends I still talk to." I said, fiddling with the hole on my jeans, the threads barely hanging on. These light washed pair of jeans were as old as my relationship with Louis had been and carried the same amount of wear and tear that our relationship had developed over its four year time span.

"Did you two heal together then?" She asked, and I nodded, palms running down the tops of my thighs.

"In a way...we used to talk about it, a lot. But, neither of us dealt with it professionally. I think we held on to the idea that - as long as we talked about what happened over and over, it would eventually not hurt. Or be easy to process. But, obviously I'm here so," I shrugged, licking my lips, cracking a small smile to break any awkwardness I seemed to always create.

"Well I'm glad you came here. I think loss always hurts, we just get it to a place that's bearable." She smiled as a small beep was heard, signifying our hour was up, "Same time next week?"

I pressed my lips tightly, nodding, "Yeah,"

"See you then Bentley." She smiled as we both stood, walking out of her small office. 

In the waiting room was Niall, his brows furrowed as he worked through the next puzzle in his crossword puzzle book, glasses barely hanging onto the bridge of his nose. His eyes flickered up momentarily, his face softening the instant we locked eyes.

"Ben, all done talking about your feelings?" He teased, pushing his glasses on the top of his head. Niall hated the idea of therapy, and speaking to a person who, in his own words, just wrote down your feelings to paraphrase them back to you and pretend they are giving meaning to them. I wouldn't say I completely disagreed with him, but sometimes, that's what I thought a human needed. Someone to sort out their feelings and explain it right back to them.

Though, I wasn't really sure anyone could explain my feelings back to me. I wasn't exactly sure how someone could bring any justification to the fact that Louis wasn't here anymore. How could anyone truly make me understand the reason why he couldn't walk home safely. Understand why someone would pull a gun on him, and shoot him. Once in the chest, and twice in the head.

All I understood was, the man who murdered him wanted to make sure he was successful. 

It had only been six months since that night in November, our final phone call playing constantly in my head.

-

Thanksgiving Night

"Baby, there aren't any fresh cranberries left. But I promise, I can make the canned one taste just as great," Louis puffed over the phone, the hustle of the store could be heard in the background.

"Louis, this is why I asked you to get them earlier this week. Canned doesn't taste the same. It's never going to fool anyone," I said, basting the turkey one final time before closing the oven.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry. You're right, B. I should have gone when you asked. Look, I'll try that overpriced shop on the corner before the house, okay? If not, I swear, no one will know the difference." He cooed over the phone, trying to soften me up, and of course it worked.

I took a deep breath, realizing I was being too much, on the day I should be most thankful for what I have, "No baby. You know what, just come home-"

"-No, B, I screwed up. I'm going to make it better. That's what I do, remember?" He said, and I could hear his smile through the phone, soon reflecting on my face as well.

"You do make everything better, sweet boy. Okay. Um, call Niall while you're at it? He's almost here and maybe you two can meet up. I know he was walking over with two casserole trays and I love him but-.."

"..-he's the clumsiest ever?" Louis chuckled, making me laugh.

"Yes."

"Alright, I'll be there soon. I love you, B."

"I love you too, sweet boy."

Niall never met up with him. He heard it all happen over the phone. By the time he found him, Louis was already dead.

-

"So you still want to grab an early dinner?" Niall said, his arm moving around my shoulders, crossword book stuck under his arm, pencil behind his ear. He looked so sharp, pressed shirt, soft sweater over it. I loved how he always smelled so clean, a twinge of apricot always seemed to mix into the smell of fresh sheets on his skin.

"Ummm, as long as it's Rizzo's, then yes. I'm in need of a giant pastrami sammy." I smiled up at him, as always, counting the dark flecks of blue that filled his crystal seas.

"Ben wants pastrami, Ben gets pastrami. Come on then," he smiled, leading me out of the office.

Niall had been Louis's best friend since middle school when Louis moved to the states from London. They hated each other on Louis's first day and by the second day they were inseparable. In my mind, that's why he stuck around, never letting me push him away like I had with Mitch, Pauli and everyone else. In my mind, he stuck around because he felt like he owed it to Louis.

He was my best friend now. The reality of it being, he was my only friend. When I isolated myself from everyone, he waited outside my bubble until he realized he needed to pop it and save me from myself. 

My mother had other ideas, constantly alluding to the idea that Niall and I were meant to be together. That the universe knew we needed each other, bonding us for life.

Personally I hated when she made that statement, making me constantly feel like Louis had died for a reason. That reason being Niall and I being together. It was disgusting and made my heart ache in ways I couldn't even describe.

As we entered Rizzo's, I pushed free of Niall gently, walking over to the picture of Louis on the wall from when he won their Massive Sub Eating challenge, kissing my fingers and pressing them against his framed face. He looked handsome as ever, straight hairs on his forehead, facial hair adorned with mustard or marinara, I couldn't remember anymore.

"Miss you babe." I whispered, turning to face the kitchen as loud banging could be heard from the back. A couple dishes could be seen flying up through the order window.

"Holy anchovies, what did I do now!" I heard Linda exclaim from the other side, Niall and I looking at each other and snickering. Linda was the owner of Rizzo's, inherited from and named after her grandfather, Rizzo Manger.

"You alright back there Linds?" I called out as I approached the breakfast bar.

"Is that my Benny girl! Did you bring the leprechaun with you? Clearly I need some luck on my side." She said, her face finally popping up in the order window. Her voice always sounded like she had smoked one pack too many, though she never had a day in her life.

"You know, most Irish people would have sued you for discrimination or something of the sort for that kind of name calling!" Niall teased, Linda shrugging.

"Thankfully you love my subs way too much to even think about that, right?" She chuckled, making Niall roll his eyes as we took our usual seats at the breakfast bar. My eyes looked down at the carving of our initials, 

"L + B + N = 2KFS"

I traced over it with my fingers laughing a bit. Niall looked over, leaning in close to me, "Too cool for school-we were such idiots." He laughed a bit, his finger moving to trace over the end my finger wasn't until they met in the middle. His face so close to mine, I could smell his aftershave even stronger than before.

"New shampoo?" He said, moving back to his seat, looking over the menu as if he didn't already know what he was going to order.

"Huh?" I said, leaning on my hand and raising an eyebrow.

"Your hair smells different today." He muttered, glancing over slightly. Before I could answer, Linda walked over to us, order pad in hand.

"What can I get you two?" She says, already writing our order down without us even answering.

"Steak, rare, with lots of carrots on the side," I tease, Niall joining in shortly after.

"I'll take a burger, just the lettuce and tomato please."

"You both think you're great comedians don't you? One pastrami sam, one mari sub, and two large cokes coming right up." She winked before walking away.

"So, Mitch got a new girlfriend." Niall said, turning in his stool to face me completely.

"Oh, that's nice," I smiled a bit, moving my gaze back down to my phone. I clicked the home screen showing no missed notifications, Niall being the only person who ever sent me anything.

"He asked if we wanted to meet up with them, Chase and Pauli. Get some beers and play pool tonight," I turned to face him, his baby blues filled with so much hope.

"Mmm, I have to organize my pantry. Tomorrow is grocery day, so I have to make sure of what I need and that there is room for new things." I said, pushing hair behind my ear.

"Ben...your pantry?" He said, his face filled with disbelief at my excuse.

"Niall, just...no, okay? You go. Don't push your friends away for me. Go hang out with them, come back and tell me all about Mitch's girl." I smiled, trying to reassure him as much as I possibly could.

"They are your friends too, you know?" He said gently, knowing it was a touchy subject for me.

"Niall. Please." I swallowed, looking back down at my phone, unlocking it and aimlessly scrolling on social media.

"I'm just saying Ben, it's been six months. They gave you the space you obviously needed, but...you need friends Bentley. And they miss you."

"I have friends. I have you. And Linda. And Pug. Pug is the best listener too." I said, pulling out a photo of my corgi making Niall have to attempt to hold back his smile.

"You are...," shaking his head while rolling his eyes, he reached over, pulling me tightly against him. He pressed his lips into the top of my head, making me relax into him.

I couldn't begin to explain how grateful I was for Niall. The way he had stepped up these past six months for me, was everything. We were bonded in this traumatic experience and no matter how hard I tried, he never allowed me to push him away.

During that first week, he wouldn't leave me alone. He was over everyday, even if I didn't want him here. Using the spare key Louis gave him, he would march in, make sure I was fed, bathed and resting. If I asked to be alone, he would leave me in my bedroom while he remained in the living room. He kept my home tidy, stocking it with everything I may need.

Eventually I joined him in the living room. Eventually we talked about Louis. Eventually he made me laugh again. It was like he was finding ways to streamline my pain into other things, reminding me that I had to continue to live.

Because it was what Louis would have wanted.

He couldn't make me hang out with our old friends, that was the only thing he failed at. It wasn't that I didn't miss them; it was simply that I didn't want to have to speak about Louis. I didn't want to rehash emotions with each one of them individually. I had that with Niall, that's all I needed and all I could handle. Maybe it was selfish of me, maybe it made me lack compassion; but it was all I could handle right now.

Linda brought us our food, each of us digging in, and I was grateful when Niall didn't bring it up again. Instead, we talked about Harry Potter. It was the first time he was watching the series, having just sat down with me through the first and second. I explained to him the differences between the book and the movie, small pouts when he wished that they would have kept certain things in. We argued about him being a Gryffindor, me emphasizing that he was too much of a Golden Retriever to be a Gryffindor. He glared at me, throwing chips at me making me cackle.

"You are clearly a Hufflepuff and that's okay. Personally I think they are the underrated house at Hogwarts." I shrugged, dusting away the chip crumbs.

"So you think I'm underrated? That my amazingness isn't valued at its true potential?" He wiggled his eyebrows, making me reach over and shove him.

"Niall James, be quiet." I laughed, his hand catching my arm and pulling me just a bit closer to him.

"Facts are facts, Bentley Rose and I know you only speak truths." He titled his head slightly, his smile big, then soft as he took in my face.

I wasn't an idiot. I was aware of the certain heat that rose between the two of us at times. The sparks that searched for enough friction to try and burst into flames. I was also aware it was all bonded through trauma. Which wasn't healthy. Which wasn't what I wanted nor needed.

Above all, I couldn't handle loving after Louis, another reason I pushed everyone out.

I cleared my throat pulling back, "We should go so you're not late. You're going tonight and I don't want any excuses!" I said pointing my finger at him, making him laugh.

"I wouldn't dream of it," he rolled his eyes. We finished, paying the check and walking outside to the warm summer air, my eyes closing at the pleasant feel of it.

"So you are absolutely sure?" He asked, grabbing my waist gently, pulling me slightly towards him.

"I just don't want to deal with all the, 'How are you really doing?' and hearing how much people miss Louis. I know it's selfish...I just..."

"I get it, Ben, you're fine," he pulled me closer, our hips pressing together, "You have your mace? Taser?"

"Check and check, location is on, and I will text you when I get home," I smiled, my hand pushing back his thick mousy brown hair.

"Okay, you know I care for ya?"

"I know, I care for you too," I smiled, kissing his cheek, before pushing away from him softly, "Have fun, be safe...get laid?" I giggled, shrugging my shoulders as I backed away, turning around and heading home.

Walking down the familiar path, I reached into my purse, pulling out my keys and placing one between my fingers. I hated that my mind was always set to the defense, but after Louis being murdered the way he was, I wasn't taking my chances. I never wore headphones, I paid attention to the footsteps that surrounded my own, their pace, their distance.

And that's why I was in therapy.

I moved down the street, like clockwork, my heart started beating faster as I approached the block before the expensive store on the corner. I stopped, normally turning right on Baker St. and taking the long way around to get home. It was so unnecessary, but I couldn't get past the idea of picturing how it happened. It had been described to me from so many different angles during the investigation, I couldn't help but feel like I would enter a movie scene I couldn't escape if I walked past the store.

And that's why I was in therapy.

I chewed on my lower lip, looking down the street, my feet moving forward before I realized what I had just decided. Before I realized that for some reason, I felt brave tonight, moving closer and closer to the shop. I stopped at the window, the shop name etched into the glass in a beautiful gold.

"Posh Finery"

Taking a deep breath, I moved inside quickly, heading to the little cafe in the corner. I pinched my lip as I looked over the pastries for sale. They had some prepackaged and ready to go, while others were meant to be picked out from behind the glass display. I spotted the last chocolate croissant, pairing it with an iced matcha seemed like the perfect way to end my night. I moved to reach for the chocolate croissant, a tattooed hand reaching at the same time. I jumped back slightly, bringing my hand quickly to my chest.

"Sorry, sorry. You can have it," I pressed my lips tight into a smile.

"No drama, kid. Take it," I heard the tattooed hand say before my eyes traveled up to take in the rest of him. I felt my eyes widen, not in shock from his appearance, olive skin, long hair, piercing green eyes that sat under furrowed brows; but by his use of a phrase I had only ever heard come from Louis' mouth.

"Excuse me? What did you say?" I stood straight, taking in his eyes as he raised a small eyebrow and chuckled a bit.

"It's means no worr-..."

"...-no I know what it means, I've just...sorry. I um, I only ever head one person use that phrase and it caught me off guard," I exhaled, my cheeks burning as I quickly grabbed a bear claw, "You can have the croissant. These are just as good anyways." I smiled, walking past him to the cashier.

"Thanks," he called out, and I turned over my shoulder nodding a bit. I ordered my matcha, handing them the bear claw to be heated up. After paying I walked over and sat at a table, waiting for my drink, watching the man pay for the croissant. He glanced over at me, holding it up and giving me a small nod before making his way out the door.

As he moved past, I couldn't help but envision Louis walking out in the same manner. Fresh cranberries in hand, making the quick turn before heading up to our home. I swallowed, shaking the thought from my head. 

It never happened. He never even made it in the store.

[knifefightandchill]

who do you think would ultimately when in a fight?

saddler, simmons, or wesker?

I know this is a joke ask, but I’ve legitimately put thought into this. Also coming from your armand blog makes this question so much better. Also the fact that you said when not win.

I’ve been wracking my brain over this all night long, because every time I think I have a solid answer, something changes my mind.

Because there are so many different factors and scenarios that could come into play. Especially when it comes to Wesker. Like are we talking just prototype virus? His injections in 5? full blow Uroboros Wesker? Does he have any resources? Like he’s a wild card. Is this DBD? Do I have to think about eldrich horrors??

So, let’s break this up into multiple parts; Saddler vs. Wesker, Saddler vs. Simmons, Wesker vs. Simmons, and the massive mess that would be all 3 at once.

Before we get into the the fun part, I wanna go over like their respective abilities and mutations ahead of time to make it simpler.

Starting with Lord Saddler.

(and I will be taking RE4R into account.)

We’ve got his human form, his final boss form, and the giant wreathing tentacle mass that is his final final form. He's also able to mutate parts of himself on a whim, and quickly go back.

With his human form he’s extremely fast, has a healing factor that allows him to not only heal literal headshots in a matter of seconds, but shoot projectiles back at assailants. When he wants. He’s very resilient. and terrifying.

His ability to call and bring in novistadors in both his human and final boss form makes for some really useful backup.

In his final boss form he’s slower, but massive, and can jump pretty fucking high. He's got sharp points at the end of his spider-y legs and those sharp boney tentacles at his disposal. Sure his weakspot is out in the open, but he can also crush people with the pincers(??) on his head.

The final final form is a massive immobile mass of writhing leviathan sized tentacles. Those can pack a punch by simply slamming down into things. Granted, he's the most vulnerable in this form.

Now onto Mr. Bolo tie, Simmons.

With enhanced C-Virus, Simmons has the ability to mutate indefinitely, and without the need to turn into a chrysalis like with regular C.

He can shift/shuffle back and forth to his human form regardless of a couple of his forms. which is both useful and a really really big disadvantage. Makes it easy to kick the shit out of him.

So, that being said, his notable mutated forms are beast/centaur, gigantosaurus, and the giant fly. The first being very fast, and able to shoot projectiles. Plus claws and all that. The second is well, a big ass B.O.W. dinosaur. He's big, has some bone plating, and has some really big teeth. Imagine dinosaur things, he can do those.

Without zombies or something to consume in order to heal and mutate further, I don’t think his giant fly form is applicable. Though maybe he could eat novistadors? if it came to that? But regardless, it has its sheer size going for it. we need really really big fly tape.

And now the ball of worms that is Wesker.

After injecting the Prototype virus, Wesker gained super human abilities. He can move so fast that it looks like he’s warping. He’s strong enough to punch a hole through a person’s chest, and catch and hold back rockets. What were the developers of RE5 on.

Being very skilled in both armed and unarmed combat, his melee is just as strong if not stronger than weaponry. If we look at him in Mercenaries, and Rev:2 raid mode, he’s a force to be reckoned with. especially with that big knife.

Throw Uroboros in the mix and things really start heating up.

It makes him bigger, even stronger, and gives him so many worms. Err, tentacles?? Tendrils?? Uroboros is one of those nasty viruses that consumes all organic matter it comes in contact with, and uses it to grow.

Wesker, however, doesn’t really use it in that manner? But I imagine it’s painful for others just getting touched by it.

Uroboros also makes Wesker extremely resilient and resistant to most damage. This man had to take a rocket launcher to the face in order to die, despite sinking in literal lava. So this generally unstable virus gives him one hell of an advantage. But does he really need it to be a threat in this fight?

So lets get into it finally !!

Saddler Vs. Simmons;

So ultimately, I think Simmons would win.

They’re relatively evenly matched, I don’t think it would be hard for Saddler to handle Simmons’ centaur form. He has the speed, the ability to throw his projectiles right back at him. Doing enough damage would cause Simmons to shuffle back to normal, which makes him really vulnerable. Even if Saddler had to mutate, his final boss form could deal with him easy. But Simmons always comes back.

Gigantosaurus Simmons has the upper hand. Most of his head is just a giant mouth with some big teeth.

He also has a lot of bone on him, which helps him get some defense. Final boss Saddler is all limbs and tentacles. One good bite from Simmons can cripple him. I think it’d take more than one bite to rip off a piece of him, but biting and tearing is still going to do damage. Sure, Simmons’ weak point is in his mouth; but aiming for that comes with the risk jaws closing around said tentacles.

If Saddler is able to do enough damage to cause Simmons to shuffle back into a human, then he could crush him or impale him easily. However, it’s a matter of can he do that much damage fast enough? Before he goes down? Or is badly hurt? The odds would be super close. BUT. He keeps coming back.

Saddler wouldn’t be doing too hot by the time he turned into a fly, and sure, that form isn’t as strong, Simmons’ attacks are really meh. But it’s fresh, it’s at full health, and I think our dear lord would be limping into that fight.

It’d be bloody and long and close, but I think Simmons would come out on top. Based solely on his dinosaur form and having whittled Saddler down over time.

Saddler Vs. Wesker

Against Saddler’s human form, Wesker could hold his own without weaponry. It wouldn’t be easy, Saddler’s ability to heal alone would be a massive pain. With weaponry, even if it was just a gun and a knife, he’d do infinitely better. I do think Saddler would be able to get the drop on him like he did with Ada though, in the right circumstances. Then he can dangle him and lure chris into a fight.

As far as final boss form goes, Wesker can hold his own for a while without weaponry, but he wouldn’t win. Saddler is too big, and too strong. Honestly, it’d be a really long game of cat and mouse. With weaponry, even just a knife and a handgun, he’d win. Listen, if Leon could do it, Wesker can do it easier and better.

If he was infected with uroboros, then it would be a more intense and interesting fight. Both have ranged attacks involving tentacles/tendrils. Despite still being a lot smaller than Saddler’s boss form, his amplified physical strength would put him on same level regardless of body size. Not to mention he becomes much more resilient against attacks. It’s a matter of out-surviving the other one.

I think Wesker would ultimately win. He’d find a way regardless.

Simmons Vs. Wesker.

The same thing applies when it comes to him vs. Simmons. If Leon can do it, Wesker can do it even better. Granted in this case, Leon needed help. So I’m keeping that in mind. Without uroboros, Wesker would need weapons of some sort and a way to use the environment to his advantage. Especially against the dinosaur form. Because it does have that armored plating, and only has one weakpoint.

His speed would help him dodge centaur projectiles, as well as rush attacks, also any stomping done by the dinosaur form. But doing damage to his stronger mutations is where he falls short. Or at least, doing damage quickly. Uroboros would put him on equal footing. He’s a smaller target than Saddler, a bit harder to get. Has some good ranged attacks that can chip away at his defenses. And the best part? Simmons can bite off his tendrils. It wouldn’t hurt Wesker. Sure he’d have to reabsorb the pieces, but it wouldn’t hurt him. Hell they could start truing to consume Simmons if he doesn’t spit them out.

And once Simmons shuffles back down to a person? He’s going to get wrecked. Even if he manages to reach his fly form. It just might take Wesker a little longer.

All 3 of them in one giant fight;

It’d be one giant mess, and honestly someone should just nuke the whole thing. Wesker wouldn’t win, he’d get away to survive. Saddler and Simmons? That’s a fight to the death. A big bloody fight.

In conclusion;

Wesker is OP. When I started writing this whole thing I didn’t think it would be Wesker. In fact I was almost certain it would be Simmons. Sorry Saddler :c ily. but after looking into things, Wesker really stood out.

A great litmus test for this is if Leon can kill it, it’d be a lot easier for Wesker to do so.

Ultimately, I’m no expert. I’ve confused myself so many times while writing this, and I’m sure there’s contradictions. But I still had fun with it and put some thought and research into it.

If you made it this far thank you! I hope you enjoyed it, or found it interesting.💕💕

I really love questions like this, and sharing my thoughts. (even though I go overboard.) And if anyone wants to weigh in with their thoughts, opinions, headcanons and all that, please do! It’ll be a fun conversation. I’m also down for more asks like this ngl xD

dividers are by saradika-graphics who can be found here!

[nocturnalghoul]

Mushy May Day 25: Adopting a Stray

Back on my Mountain with two giant newfoundland puppies agenda. He names then Petunia and Viola and they are doted on my everyone at the abbey.

Words: 768

Rating: Gen/ Everyone

Read below the cut or on AO3 here

Mountain was heading home from his morning hike when he noticed two black blobs squiggling through the brush off in the distance. He immediately stopped, focusing in on the spot where he saw movement and making soft cooing noises at whatever was lurking. A short while later the two fluffy black blobs toddled their way over towards him. 

“Now what are you two darling puppies doing out here in the woods alone?” he called out softly, crouching down and reaching out one hand for the dogs to sniff. He searched around for any others, but couldn’t find any. 

Luckily the two dogs seemed small and young enough for Mountain to easily carry one in each arm back to the abbey with him. Nobody ever ventured out this far into the woods in good faith except for other earth ghouls, so it seemed safe to assume somebody had attempted to dump the dogs out here. 

It was still early enough in the morning that few others were awake, making smuggling the puppies into his room easy enough. He placed a little bowl from the kitchen on the floor of his bathroom with some water for them and got to work attempting to figure out what to do. 

After some research he realized the two were likely newfoundland puppies. They were going to eventually grow pretty massive but were still young and therefore small enough to manage for now. It had taken some dedicated persuading of Sister Imperator, but eventually she approved for Mountain to keep the two dogs. He had to promise to find a dedicated person to watch them whenever the band went on tour, but their sweet sleepy faces seemed to win her over in the end.

That had been over a year ago and now the two “lovely ladies” as Mountain called them, aka Petunia and Viola, were giant. 

“Does your weird earth ghoul magic extend to both plants and dogs Mount? These things are bigger than any dog has a right to be” Dew moaned after being tackled to the floor by the excitable duo. 

“It’s not their fault they are quick bloomers. Maybe you should try growing sometime Dew, it seems awful all the way down there” Mountain teased back before letting out a soft whistle, recalling the dogs to his side. “If they can still get bigger maybe there is hope for you yet.” 

Before Dew could respond, Cowbell walked in, sitting down promptly on his chest. “I saw the dogpile and wanted to join” they explained at the exasperated groan from the fire ghoul. He was there to take the dogs back to their quarters so that Mountain could finish loading up the stuff for the band to leave on tour, but a last cuddle with Dew seemed worth the wait no matter how much the fire ghoul squirmed beneath him. 

Bell had immediately offered to be the official dog sitter for Mountain the same day he found Petunia and Viola. Normally the girls would follow Mountain around and accompany him on his hikes or out to the cabin in the woods, so it was nice for them to have another earth aligned ghoul around in his absence. Their time with Bell was more digging holes in the garden and dragging him swiftly towards the lake though. 

They were both good girls at heart though and while the image of the scrawny ghoul being pulled along by the massive dogs was always a rather funny one for the siblings to get to witness, they never actually took him anywhere bad. 

It was a stark contrast from the way they marched behind Mountain, perfectly flanking him with one on each side, little baskets full of herbs and flowers he had collected in each of their mouths. The siblings seemed to wholeheartedly enjoy both scenes equally. 

“Alrighty Bell, the girls already pinned Dew to the floor, let him up now so we all can get going. I’ll miss you as much as I miss them but please send lots of pictures” Mountain laughs out watching the dogs join in the pile on top of Dew that Cowbell had started. 

He said his final goodbyes before grabbing the last of his stuff and hauling Dew off the floor to join him. It made him sad to have to leave the two dogs behind, but at least he knew they had Bell and the adoration of all the siblings to keep them company while he was gone. Mountain was hopeful that the time would be up and they would be reunited before he even knew it.

[tenderandalsotired]

In Another Life

Astarion/OC! tav

Tag : ANGST, Love confessions, Yearning, Sort of unrequited love

Also on AO3

Astarion needs to see Orienes after he read the news about her marriage with Gale on Baldur's Mouth.

Among crates and chests on the cargo deck of the ship that headed to Waterdeep, Astarion sat inside one of the crates. The one that he could get in had holes on the side to let the air circulate. He was wondering why he subjected himself to all of this because of one person.

The thin thread that connected them together had been cut off. He should forget her already.

None of this would happen if it weren’t for that damn gazette.

An old edition of Baldur’s Mouth gazette was floating on the wastewater stream in front of him while he went through his life as usual. It floated toward the end of the sewers, where all the debris from above piled there. Astarion would never care about the old gazette if the picture on the front page didn’t catch his eye.

It showed him two familiar faces: a charming man with silky brunette hair who came with a dazzling smile. Standing beside him was a female tiefling whose short, wavy hair was white like sunlight. The big headline above the picture read The Heroes of Baldur’s Gate Ring the Wedding Bells

He waded across the wastewater and grabbed that gazette. He didn’t care that the foul odor was going to cling to his clothes for days. Luckily, the content inside was still readable, as the ink hadn’t been dissolved by the water yet. After he had gotten out of the stream, Astarion sat on the floor and read the gazette.

The Heroes of Baldur’s Gate Ring the Wedding Bells

People rejoiced in the union between Paladin of Tyr and the great wizard - Orienes and Gale, both the heroes who saved us from the invaders; The Netherbrain and Mind flayers, announced their marriage after having been in a relationship together for quite some time.

According to our source, the couple will return to Gale’s hometown, Waterdeep, to hold the wedding with only friends and family members invited.

The rest was information about them that he knew already during their journey.

The sharp pang struck right at his heart that he thought had gone numb. Another time that he felt like this was when they told the group about their relationship.

“You istik can do whatever you want as long as this nonsense doesn’t interfere with our traveling.” Said Lea’zel. She glanced at the couple for a moment and turned her back to go back to her tent.

Shadowheart didn’t seem surprised at all about the revelation. “I knew something happened between you two by the way Gale was looking at you.”

Karlach and Wyll were the ones who were happy with their relationship. The Blade of Frontiers gave them best wishes, then there was the giant tiefling. “That explains those sparkling eyes and red cheeks of yours, Orienes! Congratulations, guys!” She said cheerfully. “I also want this to happen to me as well! If I ever meet one, I’m gonna hug them so tight while riding them-”

Wyll cleared his throat to stop her from speaking the full sentence.

He felt he needed to say something. Something that a person like him would say, a sly and cunning vampire, the role that he was playing right now.

He blurted out those teasing words. “I understand why you want to be with Gale. Next to Wyll, he’s the other man in here who looks like a prince in a fairy tale that a girl like you would have dreamed of.”

Orienes pouted. “Is it wrong to like someone because they are kind-hearted?”

“Not at all, darling.” A drop of sarcasm trickled into his words to make this performance look believable in the audience’s eyes.

Even though he fell in love with her for the same reason.

He had always believed that people were inherently selfish. No one did anything without expecting something in return. But Orienes’ existence proved that he was wrong. Even he tried so hard to hold on to his belief that no one is pure, not even the paladin of Tyr.

In the moment Orienes rejected that blood merchant drow, who asked her to make him drink her rank blood in exchange for some potion, his belief collapsed immediately.

She could force him to do it. They were just strangers. sharing the same fate of having a tadpole in their heads.

“I…” Astarion hesitated. He didn’t know how to express his gratitude without sounding sarcastic.

“Something wrong?”

“No, I just want to say… Thank you for not forcing me to drink that drow’s blood.”

“Isn’t it the right thing to do? You also didn’t want to do it either.”

“Some people might not do the same as you. They will make me drink her blood. and I just need to endure it. Just like everything I have done in the past.”

“What have you been through?”

She was holding his hand the entire time he told her about his past.

The vampire elf therefore chose to do the right thing, sacrificing a life under the sun that didn’t have to live in fear because of her. He still remembered her plea to him not to complete the rite of ascension vividly. “I know you think this will set you free, but it won’t. This power will trap you, just like it trapped Cazador.”

Orienes rushed to hug him after he had finished killing his master. His body was soaked with blood, but she didn’t seem to be disgusted by it at all. She just kept comforting him for the entire time they were there. “I’m really proud of you, Astarion.”

He wrapped his arms around her small frame tightly for a moment and released it. He knew he couldn’t hold onto this light.

Since then, he has buried his feelings for Orienes deep in his heart and watched her smile and laugh from afar. He knew those smiles and laughs weren’t for him.

The news was like a key to Pandora's box, letting his feelings that he had suppressed overflow.

Before he knew it, he was now at the cargo desk, blending with these shipments.

After sitting in the crate for quite some time, Astarion got out of it and stretched a little bit. He turned his head around, looking for today's meal. When he had seen a rat run past him, he caught this unfortunate vermin instantly, snapping its neck and sinking his fangs into it without delay. He fed off rat blood throughout this journey.

It didn’t fill your stomach, but what could be done? If a ship crew started to disappear one or two, others would notice about it and start to get suspicious. They would probably be on a hunt for the culprit.

“If you really must drink blood, may I ask that it be the blood of an animal? or even our enemy blood?”

“Animal blood and enemy blood? As you wish, darling.”

He snorted as he reminisced about those old days.

——————————————————————————

When the night fell, Astarion crawled out of the crate and sneaked out of the warehouse after he had observed the surroundings, making sure the route was clear. He searched for a place that glowed brightly in the night because the only place that could be lit up at this time was a tavern. A place where drunkards from every class could mingle with each other. Their loud chatter mixed with lovely music that came from a bard.

What a lively atmosphere!

It was also a good place to find information.

“You’re looking for Wizard Gale? You mean Gale Dekarios? Gale of Waterdeep?” A nobleman whose Astarion forgot his name asked. He was already drunk, as he had coaxed him to drink pint after pint of beer, tricking that man into thinking he would pay for it because “he liked him” and getting the information he wanted before fleeing. “But I understand why you asked something like that. I know you’re not from here because of your accent.”

“You got me there.”

“Everyone in Waterdeep knows about the Dekarios. There are few families that can afford a manor with a tall tower. The manor also became more notable with a ceremony they had.”

“And the ceremony in question is?”

“It was a wedding! Gale that you asked about? He just got married to The Savior of Baldur’s Gate,” the nobleman said, raising a finger and asking for more beer. “I’m going to be honest with you. I was quite surprised to learn that the Dekarios family allowed their beloved son to marry a tiefling. I suspect that with the title she has, along with all the good deeds she did, plays a part here.”

A smile appeared on the vampire elf; however, his ruby eyes were empty.

“I have to excuse myself a little bit. You know, relieve myself.”

“Feel free, pal.”

Astarion laughed at the word ‘pal’. - a pal that was going to leave him facing the bill alone.

True to what the man had said, when he came out of the tavern, amidst houses and buildings, there was the tall tower standing beside the beautiful manor. He kept walking along the street until he reached his destination. The moon above casted a pale light over a manor, and therefore all the plants and flowers that are beautifully decorated around the house can be seen. Let everyone know that a celebration had been held here.

A light shone through the window of the tower. showing that someone was still awake.

Astarion knew who was up there on the tower.

Because of the nature of his kind, though Astarion didn’t want to meet Gale or any of his relatives at all, he had to wait outside the manor, waiting for someone to invite him inside. He couldn’t sneak in like he did back then, when he still had a tadpole in his head.

He knocked on the door and waited patiently.

Behind the door that was opened slowly was a maidservant who greeted him drowsily in her sleepwear. the young woman spoke to him in a sleepy voice. “Who are you?”

“Go fetch your mistress. Tell her… an old friend pays a visit.”

She looked at him from head to toe. deciding whether or not she should let this stranger come inside.

“If I’m going to commit a burglary or assault you, I wouldn't bother to knock on the door and wait for someone to invite me inside."

The maidservant was silent for a moment before speaking. “I’ll tell the mistress”

She led Astarion to the living room and excused herself to go upstairs.

Inside this big living room, where Astarion sat on the sofa, waiting for her, bookshelves were put here for guests to read, killing some time. He chose to stare at the fireplace instead. A blazing flame danced in front of him, its light reflected in his eyes.

“Astarion?”

He turned around to see her.

Orienes was in a white cotton nightgown with long, puffy sleeves. Her wavy, white as snow hair that used to be short now was shoulder-length. Those white flame eyes went big when she saw his face. She raised her hand to signal the maidservant to return to her bedroom so they could talk in private. “How did you get here?”

“By ship.”

“And you don’t…”

“As long as I don’t touch the water directly, I’ll be fine. Why are you still standing like that? Come sit with me!” He said it as if he were the owner of the house and not her. She did what he told her though, sitting down beside him.

“I saw the lights in the tower were still on. I guess that’s Gale who is still up there.”

“You know him; he just had an idea for a new spell.”

“And left your wife to be alone in the bedroom.” Astarion clicked his tongue lightly. If he were him, he would never let her sleep alone like that.

She just smiled at him. “Only tonight, Astarion. The other time, he would just come to sleep with me as usual.”

“Is that so?”

She nodded.

He examined her face again. There was no trace of unhappiness in it. No tiredness or melancholy at all. She wasn’t lying.

Astarion hated that he expected her to suffer for a moment.

“And about the wedding, I’m sorry for not inviting you. I tried asking them to let me hold the wedding at night, but Gale’s family insisted that it must happen during the day.” This time, Orienes’ smile revealed a hint of exhaustion.

“It’s fine. Even if the wedding was held at night, you probably won’t be able to track me down anyway.”

“I don’t think so. There are not many places in Baldur’s Gate where you can live, and if what you said were true, I could just ask Wyll to help me find you as well. But I don’t believe you came to Waterdeep just for this, right, Astarion?”

The crackling fire was the only sound that was heard in this room. Silence became the answer to her question.

“I can’t believe it! You really wanted to come to my wedding!” She laughed brightly.

Astarion knew she was waiting for his snarky reply, just like what they had had in the past while traveling to find a cure for the tadpole. But at this moment, the vampire elf didn't want to hide behind a mask any longer. He decided to speak his mind with as much sincerity as he could.

“Yes, I wanted to come to your wedding, Orienes. I wanted to see you in a bridal gown, holding a bouquet, and walking down the aisle, saying your vow to a man who has your heart in front of your stupid god, while I was sitting there at the bench, thinking why my past self was such a fool to not care about anything beside my own end, and letting the light slip through my fingers. When I realized this, it was too late.” He forced himself to smile for her.

After hearing what Astarion had said, Orienes was speechless. Once she finished contemplating, she reached out to cup his cheek with her hand. The touch made him tremble slightly. The warmth of her skin started to spread throughout his cold body. He was so sure that this must be like when sunlight hit the skin.

“Astarion…”

“Don’t, Orienes, don’t pity me.”

“No, all I want to say is, thank you for letting me know.”

No one would ever see this side of him except her.

Astarion turned away from her, adjusting himself a little bit and returning to play his role as usual. “I think I should go. I don’t want to trouble you any longer.”

"Stay for a night. In the morning, I’ll ask Gale to create a portal for you to travel back safely.”

“I don’t think that would be a good idea, darling,” He spoke in his honeyed voice. His finger twirled her white hair. “Especially if he knew someone visited his beautiful wife at night.”

The sight of her being bashful always delighted him.

“If you insist, I won’t prevent you.”

They walked down the long corridor to go to the front door, passing through many rooms without a single word being spoken. Orienes stopped at the threshold as Astarion walked to the outside of the manor. He turned to her to say goodbye.

“Are you really going to be fine?” She asked with concern.

Astarion pretended to roll his eyes. “If I could survive living under Cazador’s thumb for two hundred years, this trip shouldn’t be a problem for me.”

She only smiled back.

“Thank you, again, for listening to my rambling words.”

“It’s nice to let it all out, isn’t it?”

Silence would occupy this area again if Astarion didn’t start speaking once more.

“I hope that… in another life, I’ll be the one who stays by your side.”

“I hope so too.”

[writerleo86]

Armor Champions - Season 5 Act 1 - Episode 208 (Do Not Copy) - 04.25.2024

    Meanwhile, the evil boy had journeyed through a calm desert somewhere in Greece during the late evening. The boy soon found something by a giant mountain of sand and rocks. It was a large temple which was made of pure stone. And the building appeared to be more than hundreds of years old.

    The boy still wore a collared white shirt with a long black tie. Over his shirt was a long black coat that was buttoned and a pair of fair black pants. And he had on a pair of black shoes.

    He gave out a large grin and responded "The dreams of all mortals will become nightmares once I have released what is inside here."

    The boy began walking inside the old temple and arrived in a large room that had rows of closed caskets that looked very ancient. He walked through each row until he stopped at one that was placed at the far left end.

    And the boy smiled wickedly until he said "I have found you."

    Next, he slowly rose his left hand. The top of the old casket began to move away. And the boy looked into the tomb.

    Inside the tomb was a mummified corpse wearing only an old white cloth lowering from his waist, four types of golden medallions around his neck, and a large golden brace around each wrist and ankle.

    Once he lowered his left arm, the boy placed his right hand toward the chest of the body. A globe of pink light shined around his right hand as the boy chanted words repeatedly.

    The boy yelled "I bring the good dreams of hundreds as tribute for you!"

    Then the boy called out "Albumlunam Regeneratio!"

    The pink light quickly gathered around the casket before him as the wicked boy replied "Now the game begins. Come to me, Jede Kaballa. And bring forth the Key along with you."

Armor Champions Season 5 -- Episode 208:  Trey Chaolan -- A Doctor With Regrets?

    Once the full white moon appeared in the nightly sky, the wicked boy spread his arms as he lifted his head and closed his white eyes.

    He repeatedly chanted "Faw, Toluka, Meswatta, Assellra!"

    Meanwhile, smoke started gathering around the old casket. The corpse slowly changed into living flesh while two small holes formed on the middle of its head. The flesh was soon covered by khaki skin as the body became well-built. And the front parts of his bright-blond hair covered the person's forehead while the back part lowered near their neck.

    After the smoke slowly faded, the person rose before him as the boy gave out a loud laugh.

    "Yes!" cheered the boy. "He has finally risen! He has returned to the living!"

    During the next morning on Planet Marinear Bay, the gloomy Billy Williamson laid on a long table made of black metal with his wrists and ankles chained to the sides of the table. Meanwhile, the scientist Trey Chaolan analyzed his body from the monitor of his white laptop-computer on a small black table while they both were inside the dark laboratory of Trey's home in Violet City.

    Billy only had on a black undershirt and long gray sweatpants.

    Trey wore a dark-gray shirt with short sleeves along with a pair of khaki jeans and short brown boots.

    Billy looked up at the ceiling as he asked in a soft voice "Am I going to be alright?"

    The focused Trey continued typing on the keyboard of his computer until he turned to the emotionless blond who remained by his left side.

    The calm Trey shook his head and reported "There is nothing physically wrong with you. Your vitals are normal."

    He gave a short chuckle and commented "To be honest, Billy. Your vitals are more than normal. They are all perfect, as you should be."

    Billy closed his green eyes as Trey asked "Have you regained some of your memories?"

    The stern Billy reported "The first thing I saw was me standing with four guys and we were facing some large man. Or something that looked like a man. I also saw myself sitting in a cafeteria with these four guys and a blond girl."

    He opened his eyes and told Trey "I think one of those guys found me at that plaza yesterday."

    Trey responded "Yes, that was Jede Kaballa. You two became close friends a while after you met him and the other champions."

    "So that part was true?" questioned Billy. "I was best friends with that guy? Those people?"

    Trey shook his head once more and answered "Jede Kaballa, Kody Perez, Joey Spade, Desoto Martin, and Relena Haruno. Over the time you stayed on this planet, you became quite close with each of them."

    Then Billy revealed "I soon saw myself meeting a girl by a clothing store. This beautiful and unique girl."

    Trey gave a kind smile and answered "The beautiful girl with the unique colors of hair. That would be Carla... Carla Lewis. You two... You two fancied each other."

    The young doctor lowered his head and told Billy "You two eventually became a couple."

    "That explains why she's always in my head," implied Billy.

    Next, Billy opened his eyes and turned to the doctor.

    Billy responded "I remember you. You are Trey Chaolan, an old friend of my brother. Aaron... Aaron Brief's my brother. But my given name, Williamson. It came from a man who found me as a small baby."

    "Salem Williamson," described Trey. "You told me one time about him. He raised you. Salem was the one that taught you how to be kind but vigilant. He also taught you to how to fight and defend yourself. You are probably one of the best fighters I have ever known. You're better than Aaron, that's for damn sure. You were called Blue Ice Kainobi for a good reason."

    And Billy asked "Were you and I close?"

    "Not at first," informed Trey. "You and I. We were once enemies. But over the years of knowing each other, we've grown to respect one another. Even after I kidnapped Camerion Martin for my selfish reasons, you found a way to tolerate me. You and Camerion were actually the only ones that gave me a chance."

    The chains broke from Billy's wrists and ankles. Then Billy himself rose as Trey continued.

    Trey told him "Long after the battle between you Armor Champions and my creation -- my greatest mistake, I left Violet City for a bit. I went soul-searching on my own. Then I came back to Violet City and began living here. I quickly reconnected one-by-one with you and Camerion. You both continued to visit me since. Every time you and Camerion came, I felt... I felt like my life had changed, but for the better."

    Billy walked toward the back of the emotional doctor and thought to himself for a moment.

Inside the basement under Brief Enterprises, the large metallic door was pushed to the wall as the three youths -- Billy Williamson, Camerion Martin, and Albatross Zane -- stood at the other side. Then they all found the calm Trey Chaolan floating into the room.

    After that, the emotionless Billy wrapped his right arm around his waist as he placed his left hand on his forehead.

    "I remember how we met now," He informed Trey. "We've come a long way since then."

[imyourbratzdoll]

Logan is training his protegee, reader power of super strength and power of water. Reader has a sexual crush on him and wants to seduce him. hard core sex

hello, sorry this took so long, but I hope you enjoy it.

summary - logan and the reader end up training in another... more fulfilling way.

warning - smut, rough, swearing, creampie, word whore is used, mutants, degrading, smoking cigar.

18+ only please, the gif I use isn't mine, divider by @newlips

‘Ugh, why does it have to be him to train me? He’s so fucking distracting.’ You groan, trying to focus on your powers and the target, but the feeling of Logan standing close to you makes your core throb. “Do you mind standing back?” You growl as you turn slightly to glare at the giant man. You swear you see him staring at your ass, but when you blink, he is staring directly at you.

Logan smirks, takes a step back and leans against the wall. He pulls a cigar from his pocket, continuing to stare you down. “Don’t have to get your knickers in a twist, sweetheart.” He places the cigar in his mouth, and your eyes focus on how he lights it, feeling your cunt tingle at the action. “Now, c’mon. Show me what ya got.” 

You take a deep breath, closing your eyes as you try to calm your desires. You lift your arm, eyes rolling back as you feel the water begin to form in your palm. Your eyes narrow, focusing on the target. Logan watches the water form into sharp spikes, huffing in approval as they shoot through the air and pierce through the wooden target. You feel shivers run through you as you hear Logan whistle. Your ears pick up him moving closer, feeling close to snapping and fulfilling the need to hold him down as you bounce on his thick cock.

A growl leaves you as you feel him rest a hand on your shoulder, and you grab hold of it, flipping him. You get down and straddle his lap. The both of you huff as your core rubs against his bulge. Logan lies back, hand behind his head as the other rests on your hip, your eyes focusing on the cigar dangling from his lips. Your dark, lustful eyes dart up to his. “Why do you keep getting into my personal space?”

He huffs, sending a puff of smoke toward your face. “I like how aroused you get when I do.” His eyes slowly drag down your body, sucking on the cigar as he does. The hand on your hip moves to your core, and his cock twitches as you moan. A sharp gasp escapes you as he rips a hole through your pants, growling as he comes in contact with your bare cunt. “You’re such a whore, wearing nothing while you train with me.” 

Your hands quickly make work of his belt, undoing and unzipping his jeans before pulling out his throbbing member. A needy whine leaves you as you feel how heavy he is in your hands, your eyes wide. “How the hell is this going to fit inside me?” Your hands slowly move up and down his base, his red and angry tip leaking large amounts of pre-cum. You bite your bottom lip, feeling Logan rub your swollen clit before a squeal leaves you as he lifts you and plants you straight onto his cock. “Oh– Fuck!” Your eyes roll back.

Logan grunts, hands gripping your hips as he slams you down. His thick, bulging member slides in and out of you rapidly, balls slapping your ass as he picks up speed. “Jesus, fuck. You know how much of a fucking tease you are. Always fucking shaking your ass in my face or pushing your tits together.” Logan bends his knees, and a groan leaves him as your dripping cunt clenches around him. His hand comes up, ripping the shirt from your body, and he growls as your breasts begin to bounce in his face, squeezing them, twisting and flicking your nipples as his cock pierces you before his hand moves up and wraps tightly around your throat. 

Your half-lidded eyes stare down at him as you bounce, your body moving harshly with his. His cock feels enormous inside you, and you can feel slick gathering at the stretch. Your hands rest on his chest, gripping his shirt tightly as you throw your head back and scream. Logan’s dark eyes begin to move around the room, watching as water rises from nowhere. Some of it touches his flesh causing pleasant tingles to shoot through him. 

He growls, gripping your body and flipping you around. His large form covers your tiny one as he begins to pound harder and faster into your puffy cunt, watching as your eyes roll to the back of your head and your breasts bounce wildly. “Fucking whore.” He lifts a hand, wrapping around the cigar in his mouth, sucking in the deliciousness before blowing a puff of smoke in your face. “You like when an older man destroys your cunt?” Your head moves up and down rapidly, hands gripping his arms. “Of course ya do. Whores don’t care bout nothing but cock.” 

You pant and moan, feeling your high approaching. “P–Please! I need to cum. Please let me cum!” Your legs wrap around his thick form, and the feeling causes your cunt to pulsate around him, sucking him into you deeper. “Oh– Jesus! You feel so fucking huge! So good!” Your back arches as you cling onto him, not daring to cum without his permission. 

Logan’s thrusts grow feral, and he stares into your dazed eyes as he moves his hand down and connects it with your swollen clit, rubbing slowly with his rough thrusts. “If I let you cum. You’re mine. Understood, sweetheart.” You nod, whines leaving you. Logan rubs your clit faster, his thick tip hitting the sweet spot inside you. “I need an answer!” The growl that leaves him sends shivers through your body, intensifying the feeling much more.

“Yes! Yes! I’m yours, fuck! Please!” 

“CUM!” 

Your toes curl, eyes rolling back as your juices squirt out of you and cover the man above. He grunts, leaning back and grabbing your thighs. His fingers dent your flesh, pulling you flush against him as he pounds harder into you. Logan can feel his cock throb and his balls tighten as his end approaches, and the thought of filling you to the brim with his seed sends him over the edge. “FUCK!” He roars, hot white spurts shoot out of his large mushroom tip and deep inside you, he punches the floor as his claws come out. His head is thrown back, the cigar still dangling from his beautiful pink lips as he empties inside you.

Logan slowly pulls out once he’s done, glaring down at you as he smokes his cigar. His large hand taps your leg, that’s still lazily wrapped around him. “C’mon, let’s go to my room so I can split ya on my cock some more, maybe make a mess of ya while I’m at it, and brand you, so everyone knows your mine.” He growls, picking you up with one arm as he heads off in the direction of his room.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.