#i don wanna getup :((((

[greyspread]

Morning gato

Only to wake u up at 4 to 6 am and then sleep till sundown

[rattini]

Honey Whiskey // x

The honey whiskey's kickin' Go down, go down I think I better go before I try something I might regret But if you wanna free your body tonight It's our secret, it's our secret

The Ghoul x F!Reader

Set years before the events of the Fallout TV show.

The unfortunate plaything of a drug lord with a bounty on his head, you’re dragged to a bar as his little pet. With nothing else to do but drink with them, you try to lose yourself in liquor, wondering how long this was going to be the theme of your life. Luckily for you, the bounty on the head of your captor has attracted the attention of a ghoul with nothing to lose. A man you noticed eyeing you and the men accompanying you from across the room for more than an hour, before letting loose his bullets into the heads of everyone but you. Hazy from alcohol, you ponder if you should return the favour, the only way that has worked for you so far.

You’re used to being a ‘pretty thing’ on the arm of a man trying to prove his power, it had been your primary mode of survival not long since you were evicted from your vault. Sneaking around the desolate wasteland with minimal water and just enough drugs to curb the pain of your current skin affliction got old fast. Your self-doubt had convinced you that surviving alone wasn’t an option. When a group of leering, greasy men cornered you one afternoon in the highest heat of the Mojave sun, your fight or flight response chose fawn. It was easy enough, you figured standards had dropped significantly out here these days, yours clearly had.

Right now, you were tethered to a sweating hog of a man with a severe lack of investment in personal hygiene, who had made himself more than acquainted with your inner thigh. He bragged endlessly about being untouchable, the most powerful fucker in these parts. Men and their need to showboat. Eyes were not on you at present, that you were aware of at least, so you allowed yourself to roll them in response to his gloating. Fortunately, as a perk of being his little toy, you were welcome to help yourself to the liquor decorating the bar where you sat.

Perched delicately on a stool, you had little choice but to sit properly, since you were donned in a less than savoury getup that didn’t really flatter you in the slightest. Either way, it crept uncomfortably far up your thigh, you were pretty sure your asscheeks were stuck to the cracked leather of the bar stool…but anything for easy access, right? That’s all that mattered for you now. You had made your bed, now you had to lie in it, on your back usually. For every grubby prod of his fingers, you sip a little harder at the old whiskey in your glass, a task in itself since your wrists were bound. You had just enough freedom to grip a glass and bring it to your mouth, but your ankles were also bound, so you weren’t going very far any time soon. Swallowing down the sting in your throat, you barely grimaced at the taste as the heat spread through your chest. It was rather pleasant really, or at least, the growing fuzziness in your limbs and face were.

Your boredom grows as the evening drones on, your eyes wander across the room. A dingy old bar, all but a few patrons scared off by your adoring captors. Except one. You’d noticed them from the corner of your eye near an hour ago, focus shifting away from them easily from the liquor. An unmoving figure draped across an old couch, head bowed low, crowned with a cowboy hat with legs lazily spread. You find yourself pondering them some more, intrigued by their mystery, coyness lost on you at this point as alcohol seeps into your bloodstream.

Just as your focus intensifies, you notice their head rise, the brim of their hat revealing a dark, masculine jaw. His body remained unmoving, but you can’t help but feel like his attention is fixated on you. Attempting to shake the feeling of being watched, you turned your own attention fleetingly back to your glass, which was near empty. Disappointed, you attempted to reach over the counter for the bottle of whiskey balancing on the edge of the bar. Unaware of the flesh you were flashing to do so, you park yourself again, fumbling the bottle with your barely free hand to pour yourself another glass and meeting your lips with it. Tilting your head back far enough for the liquid to escape down your throat, you glance once more at the man in the corner. His eyes, visible through dark sockets under the brim of his hat, are hooked on you more obviously this time. Feeling warm and brave, you meet his gaze, trying to decipher what kind of face is hiding beneath the shadows. Visible are his sclera, but his irises appear dark, along with the rest of his features. You didn’t mind his gawking, enjoying the dangerous entertainment it provided for you.

Interrupted by the poking grip of stubby fingers above your knee, your eyes dart back at the raider, drug lord, scumbag whatever-he-was. He wasn’t looking at you, but his hands were wandering all the same. Gliding up the inside of your thigh, causing shudders to rise from the base of your spine. The encroaching tipsiness meant hiding your grimace was more of a challenge, and so you twisted your neck with a look of disgust you hoped no one would notice. But it didn’t go unnoticed. Lifting your eyes again, you notice the man is still looking at you, posture leaned forward, revealing his visage. A ghoul. Not awful on the eyes either. Hell, not that your current company was anything to compare to. He noticed your eyes widen and it cracks a smirk on his mottled skin, head cocking to the side. Unblinking, your cheeks flush hot for a second, your only choice to swallow hard and shake it off.

A sharp tug on the rope slowly cutting into your wrist yanks you from your drifting gaze. A waft of halitosis and liquor exposes his intoxication, which probably also meant his desire to have his way with you was near. Encroaching on your personal space, which didn’t really belong to you anymore anyway, he leans in with an open mouth, ready to take what he wants from your lips. The pungency of his breath almost knocks you off the stool, and when he notices you lean away from his kiss, he makes sure that you do end up on the floor. Crashing to your knees with an audible pop of your joints, you let out a cry that brings a wicked grin to his lips. Stifling a growl as you ride through the pain of your aching joints, you’re ordered to return to your feet. Knowing full well that you’re unable to get up, the raider boss drunkenly draws his shotgun to meet your forehead.

“Up, bitch.”

You shoot him a furious but desperate stare through furrowed brows, despite being in no position to argue with him. You attempt to return to your feet to no avail, through stifled groans of pain that radiate in your kneecaps. Growing more frustrated by your lack of movement,  the raider disables his safety and your heart drops. A cold sweat beads rapidly against your back, this time bracing yourself for his inevitable itchy trigger finger.

A gunshot.

Followed by another.

Eyes squeezed tightly shut, reflexes delayed by your assurance that at least one bullet was lodged in your flesh, but no pain followed. Your ears ring from the gunshots and you spring your eyes open to check yourself. The spattered blood of the man accompanying you covered your front, but it seems you were free of any further injury. Vision darting around the room, you attempt to collect your gall and figure out the situation. To your right, two more raiders, the lackeys, guns poised straight ahead of them. To your left, the ghoul on the couch, now standing with a revolver in each outstretched hand. The standoff is short-lived before the ghoul sinks a bullet into the forehead of each raider, splattering their grey matter across the dingey walls of the now abandoned tavern.

Silence fills the room, besides a few debris clattering to the floor and the thudding of your heartbeat pounding through your ringing ears. Your chest heaves as the panic sets in, you may have been spared, but that means very little in the wasteland. You come to the assumption that you’ll be next by association. Unable to return to your feet, your hands reach to cover your head as you hear the clicking of the ghoul’s spurs approach with each heavy step. As the footsteps cease, you dare peek at the boots that have appeared at your knees, following them up until you find the face of the man they belong to. Towering over you, his eyes darken to an almost predatory look. His gloved hand finds your bound wrists and he lifts you to your feet in one rough swoop, propping yourself on shaking legs as you stand uncomfortably close to him.

A knife emerges from its sheath to meet the soft skin of your neck, drawing up to linger on your bottom lip. You don’t take your eyes off him for a second, hoping the familiar deer-in-the-headlights tactic will prove useful once more. It was almost embarrassing how often it had saved your life out here. The ghoul keeps your gaze, unblinking, cocking his head to the side as if he were considering something. His stare bores into you, eyes oddly warm brown to match the heat radiating from under his duster. The blade slowly raises past your eyes, where he still firmly holds your aching wrists above your head. With a swift tug and low grunt from his throat, the rope bindings loosen and release the pressure from your joints, and you check your them for blood.

Feeling his eyes still on you, you scan back up to his face again, silence filling the entire room as your world still gently spins from the alcohol. The rope remaining tightly around your ankles begins to chafe, rubbing away the top layer of skin. A quick glance down to your feet and back up at him again, hinting. The smirk he flashed you from the other end of the room prior to the shootout creeps back on his lips and yellowed teeth peek through. He practically leans over you, encroaching on your space much like the raiders and those before him had done, but this was different. This time you liked it. The liquor buzz and tingling fear created quite a thrill, one that engulfed your entire skin with prickles and sank into the pit of your belly with a fluttering warmth.

Without uttering a word, he slowly descends. Close enough that you feel the heat of his breath as he meets your face and continues down your form to crouch in front of you, head now level with your navel. Time slows in the room, hazy with excitement, or was it your life flashing before you? Gripping the back of your knee, he slowly reaches down to slice at the bindings on your ankles with the other, almost as if he were savouring the moment, the brim of his hat tickling your lower belly as he tilts his head down. A familiar release, as you reposition your feet to stand more comfortably, skin itching from the rope. The grasp of your knee pit rises until his fingers digs into the meat of your hamstring. Your leg twitches as you imagine the sensation of his rough, ungloved hands wrapped around the underside of your ass cheek. His blade makes contact with your skin once more, cold and stinging on the inside of your calf. Your body stiffens and you hold your breath, before the knife begins to rise up the soft flesh of your leg, past your knees and settling mid-way up your thigh. A gasp escapes your lips as the cold metal tickles your sensitive skin and sends jolts into the heat of your underwear. You dare not move but your body betrays you with a soft tremble. He emits a low hum, humoured by your obvious attempt to hide your growing fear and excitement.

Nonchalantly, he returns to his feet, examining his blade before sheathing it again, the corners of his mouth still curled slightly. As his attention returns to you once more, he reaches over your diminutive form, the collar of his aged shirt almost brushing the tip of your nose. His aroma is powerful, perhaps not in scent, but certainly in the way it makes your belly rise and flutter and tingles creep into your throat. Old leather, Mojave dust, and a musk that was fairly pleasant, all things considered. He recedes with a glass in his hand, your glass, as he knocks back the remainder of your drink before tipping the glass to you with a nod and returning it to the bar.

Stepping around you he strolls over to the body of the man you had belonged to until now and makes quick work of looting his pockets and removing his head with efficiency. He examines the head with a scoff and glances back towards you, almost mocking your choice of company. Grabbing a fistful of hair, the head now dangles by the ghoul’s side as he steps off to leave the bar. As he reaches the fractured door frame, you dare to finally move. First your lips, a wobbly “Thank you.” escapes them, but you remain with your back to him. His gait halts and he twists to peer back at you, raising an eyebrow in  surprise, but says nothing still. Perhaps pleasantly surprised by the rarity of manners, perhaps wondering how well those manners could serve him. He stands awaiting you, a dark figure almost filling the doorway. You wonder if he left already, but are met with his widening, lopsided grin. He tips his hat to you and slinks off beyond sight.

Intoxicating…intoxicated. You’re intoxicated. Your fight or flight response drags you back to your sobering reality. You had been spared by a bounty hunter, and a ghoul at that. Unfortunately for you though, the group of thugs providing some sort of protection were now splayed out on the rotting wooden floor, decorated by their own blood. You were alone, again. The reality of your situation sinks in as you fumble to collect the least bloody jacket from one of the bodies as an attempt to cover as much of your bare skin as possible. Your mind has other plans however, as the lingering image of his sultry eyes are fixed into the back of your eyelids, and you can’t help but wonder how those hollowed features would look if you were underneath him.

Fuck.

[kmp78]

She just posted this and I wanna say this gap between her legs is really unattractive..imo😬 looks like she’s wearing a diaper

***

Yep that´s a terrible outfit but it´s not hers so she can´t really say no to it... 🤷🏼‍♀️

(And NO it´s not in any way the same thing as when JL dons insane getups. HE can say no. 🙄) 

[shallowseeker]

The Macleod class entanglement

Crowley and Rowena, because of their fundamental outsider/low-class status, have to work SO HARD to get anywhere.

And they're just tired of working so hard, y'all.

They're like Metatron. It doesn't seem to matter what they do, someone will always run to the "popular kid." Their followers continually flock to the folks with (seemingly) effortless status. The other witches just don't wanna play ball with Rowena. And Crowley, like Metatron, can't seem to keep the reigns of his kingdom, even when he holds the right power and the right status.

TYREL (to Metatron): My guys'll go running to Castiel.

(Even Gadreel goes running to Castiel. Hell, in his heart of hearts, even Metatron dons the lookalike coat and wants to flock to Castiel.)

ANY DEMON (to Crowley): *immediately runs to Lucifer at any chance*

ANY WITCH (to Rowena): *doesn't let her join the coven, even when she gets super-strong*

Rowena, just wants to be safe, and Crowley just wants to have job security, and yet, despite their best efforts, they BOTH continually remain on the outside, inherently lacking and not knowing why. (It's unfair, it's unfair!)

So, they BOTH continually reach for attack dogs. BUT it kills them. Lucifer kills them both.

Even when they should, by all appearances, have the upper hand, the superior intelligence, the ace in the hole...

...they simply don't.

And Crowley was so prepared after being burned by the last angel he tried to take on (Cas), and then he couldn't even control Dean, and Amara turned out to be another loose nuke. So this time, he was prepared, with all the proper precautions. But he still can't do it.

Lucifer doesn't even seem threatened by him, nor phased by any kind of shame Crowley tries to inflict on him. He seems amused, even in full-BDSM-getup, and Crowley just wants him to feel it. The shame.

How contrasting it is that "Lucifer mostly leaves me alone," when it comes to Cas (season 11) and Lucifer just completely decimates Crowley at every chance he gets (season 11, 12). Cas gets dignity, even in death, from Lucifer, and Crowley can't even have that.

In the end, Crowley falls to nihilism, "I just want it to be over." He tries to convince himself that it's a win. It's a win, dammit. Even when he loses...

Rowena falls in season 15, but she still believes in something, and that's magic & destiny. And so, she ascends as new Queen. It's Queen of the vermin, but at least it's Queen of something, and the Macleods have always been rats.

[lorebite]

Heyyy ✨ I got a teeny tiny request for ya

Jason blowing y/n’s back out in camp slayer, and they have to keep quiet but y/n can’t help but be loud, so Jason has to cover her mouth the entire time. 🕺🏻

Yes. 😈

Also, this fic feels like a full circle moment with the first Jason fic I’ve written. Sort of how that that one could’ve gone if I had the confidence back then to write full blown unbridled smut. Haha 😄

the silencer || Jason Kolchek x Reader

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI. Cursing. Fem/AFAB reader. Suggestive content (mentions of masturbation, dirty talk, unprotected public sex (p in v), cunnilingus, slight exhibitionism, creampie). Acquaintances to lovers. 

Sharing a living space with a collective of other soldiers meant that at some point, you were going to inevitably walk in on one of your comrades in a compromising situation. And to your dismay, you’ve caught your fair share of unwanted sights that have branded themselves like labels of shame in the back of your mind. But almost none of them – no scratch that – absolutely none of them came close to what you’ve just intruded upon.

Though intrusion was probably an overstatement.

You were on your way to one of the makeshift offices in the temple, a file clutched lazily under your arm. It was a particularly long day of boring paperwork and your brain was barely making it through on autopilot. You wished for nothing but for the day to end, so you could kick off your heavy boots and just get your ass on some damn surface. Hell, you even missed the faulty blistering showers tucked far back in the temple.

Your head overcast with thoughts, the suggestive moans from behind the office door were lost on your ears. You eyed the slight crack and the thin stream of sunlight filtering through it, and nudged the door ajar with the tip of your boot, an absentminded whistle flitting through your puckered lips. The door creaked open and you stepped in, flinging the file onto the old desk that was more dust than wood at this point.

A hunched over husk of a person loomed in the corner of the room, their broad shoulders guised by the shadow of the file cabinets propped against a chipped column. Their head whipped around as the echo of your footfalls resounded within the vicinity. Your eyes blew wide, the vague tune dying on your lips, startling upon finally noticing your lieutenant loitering by the wall.

You opened your mouth to offer an apology but your gaze dropped to the frantic movements of his hands by his crotch and the unmistakable hasty zip that tolled like church bells in your ears, realization immediately dawning on you.

“Holy shit!” You cried, spinning on your heels and facing the door you had just walked through. You were more shocked than anything. As if only now you were realizing that your superior was just another regular man donned in the military getup. It oddly humbled him in your eyes. “I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t know you were here.”

Why are you here in the first place? The question crossed your mind but of course, not that you were going to say it out loud. It was easier to end up on Kolchek’s bad side than good. You didn’t want his laser focus on your every fucking move just because you struck a nerve. You knew he would grill you if you put one wrong foot forward from then on.

He cleared his throat. “‘S fine.” 

It wasn’t, though. Not for him. If the sharp irritation cutting into his voice was any indication. Was he close? He probably was. The thought brought a sly smile to your lips.

You peeked over your shoulder, contemplating whether you should turn back around.

“This isn’t exactly the most private room here, is it? I suppose desperate times call for desperate measures.” You couldn’t help the teasing lilt that leaked into your tone.

“You wanna repeat that, sergeant?” He snapped. You bit the inside of your cheek, fighting tooth and nail to hold in the snicker bubbling in your throat. Kolchek huffed irritatedly. He took your silence a good enough response. “Get back to your business.”

You turned on the balls of your feet, eyes avoiding his as they crinkled with the grin threatening to split open your face. Making a B line to the file cabinets, you saw him palm himself in an attempt to adjust his bulge when he thought he’s left your line of sight, a choked grunt catching in the back of his throat.

“If one word of this gets out—” His gruff voice came from behind you as you pulled back a drawer.

You clicked your tongue, cutting him off. “My ass is toast. Message received loud and clear, sir.” You turned with a smirk, irises shrunk with mischief. “But maybe next time, pick another room to hog. Not the exact place other soldiers frequent.”

Kolchek waved a hand vaguely, already sliding a foot out the door. He seemed so impatient to get away from you, almost as if he was already thinking of another empty room he could take for himself right as he was about to walk out.

You spoke again, “You know, I can help you out with that.”

That wasn’t much of a secret. Not to you or any soldier of your ranking anyway. When months grew long and tedious and, one by one, you gave in to the temptation of your mind, you’d find ways to sneak out with a willing partner past the curfew. And you’ve been on enough of these nightly ventures to know how quickly desperate and touch starved a human body can become once it’s denied of its fulfillment.

So, it was only easy to assume that Kolchek probably hadn’t had another pair of hands to take care of him in a long time, being a young lieutenant and all. And as he spun back around, despite how his face contorted into a sour expression, you could see his pupils blowing wide as his eyes met yours.

“The hell’re you on about?” His voice came low, almost threatening. As if he was daring you to bring up the predicament you’d found him in once more, so he could use that as an excuse to chastise you.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.” You smiled sweetly, the feigned innocence cloaking the insinuation behind your words. “I’m not doing you any favors, of course. I scratch your back, you scratch mine.”

His eyes drifted up and down your body, wetting his lips, a skeptical look burned deep into the lines of his face. He tilted his head, a finger rising to wave in your direction.

“This some kinda joke, marine? You forget your damn place.”

You turned around, fully facing him now, your shoulders shifting in a lazy shrug as a wide smile took up your face. “Just a little offer, sir. No harm meant.”

His eyes fluttered close, head rolling back on his shoulders as a muttered “fuck’s sake” fell off his tongue. When he opened them again, his heated eyes, darkened and rich with need, bore into yours.

“Come here.” He growled.

He paced the room in two full strides, his large palm pushing against your chest. Your back thudded the wall behind you, air audibly escaping your mouth. His lips were on yours before you could draw your next breath, his feverish body pressing desperately into you.

His teeth sunk into your lip, fingers lowering to dig dents in your waist. You hissed, pulling your head back and against the wall. His warm lips trailed down your neck, tongue worming through his teeth to press against your pulse point.

“Take these fucking pants off.” He said in your ear, voice low and gravely as he tugged at your belt.

He pried your pants open before you had the chance to act of your own accord, the heavy fabric sliding down your legs. His forefinger hooked behind the waistband of your panties and pulled it down to your ankles. He remained at your feet, raising a hand to slip under his cap and toss it aside. He cradled your hips in his rough palms as he peered up at you.

“Spread your legs for me.”

And you did. He pressed an open mouthed kiss to your mound, lowering his lips to your clit. His tongue lapped at the yearning bud and you gasped, your fingers sinking in his soft tousled locks. His lips cupped around your pussy and you let a tight lipped moan slip through your clenched teeth, bucking your hips into his face.

“Ja—Jason. Fuck.” You whined.

He moaned at the sound of his name, jostling you suddenly against his mouth. Face now buried into you, his teeth clamped down on your clit. You cried out, back arched. Jason leaned away with round eyes staring up at you, a string of saliva linking his lips to your pussy. He shushed you gently.

“Careful now, sweetheart,” he paused to suck your flushed clit into his mouth once. “Not fishing for trouble, are you?”

You moaned breathlessly in response.

“I know, baby. I know,” he cooed, voice muffled against your pussy as the tip of his tongue fluttered rapidly. “But you gotta keep it down a little. Can you do that for me? Hmm?”

You panted, words barely making out as your fingers coiled rigidly in his hair. He groaned, his tongue pressing flat against your clit, drawing a firm upward streak. He craned his neck, his warm mouth finding your soaked slit. His nose pushed firmly into you as his tongue slithered between your folds, reaching in as far as he could while on his knees. 

A drawn out whine slipped through your lips, your fingers pulling greedily at his hair. Jason chuckled against you and returned his mouth to your clit. He lifted a hand to your weeping cunt, forefinger toying around your entrance. The tip of his finger slid along your folds, sinking in easily when he pushed between them. And he moaned at the warm walls swallowing his finger.

“Ah, shit, baby. I can’t wait to feel you all around me.” His breathless whines were smothered against you as he curled his tongue back around your clit. “But I’m gonna make you cum on my face ‘fore that... mmm, yes, baby,” he drawled, his voice a guttural hum in the back of his throat. “Can you cum for me? I need you to cum for me. I’m so hard for you right now. It hurts so bad in these fucking pants.”

“Fucking hell, Jason.” You sobbed.

“You’re getting a kick out of this, aren’t you?” He stared up, tilting his head. A faint smirk curving his lips. “Saying my name like that as if I’m not your fucking superior.”

You managed a breathy chuckle through quick gulps of air. 

“You like seeing me at your feet? So needy and desperate for you. How long you’ve been picturing me like this? Be honest.”

Jason had been on your mind for quite a while now. You’d thought about what it would be like if you stole him away for a midnight quickie when the rest of the barracks slept. He was an ass sometimes, sure. But goddamit if he wasn’t a fine piece of ass. However, he didn’t need to know that. Not right now.

“You talk too much, Kolchek.” Your fingers twisted tightly in his hair. Jason clenched his teeth, eyes fluttering shut as the dull ache of your fingernails rippled through his scalp. “Put that mouth to better use.” 

You pushed his face back into your pussy. A noise of surprise rolled off his tongue as his lips landed clumsily on your clit. His hands stroked along your thighs. Warm calloused palms moving across your smooth skin, rising to hold your hips firmly, nails digging into your flesh.

His mouth began moving on you at a punishing pace, refusing to loosen his grip even as you squirmed against him, speedily building you up. You gasped, hands flying against the wall behind you with nothing to cling to as the first bursts of your orgasm coursed through your body. You moaned, the sound escaping you before you had the chance to stifle it, and you clasped a hand against your mouth as the sounds left you in rapid succession. 

He leaned away from you, lips parted into a toothy smile as he looked up at you with a gaze riddled with rich lust, irises a pair of thin rims around his pupils. His chin glistened with the smears of your arousal in the dull light of the room, his fringe a dark shock of mess curtaining his eyes. He darted out his tongue to wet the corner of his mouth, lips rolling between his teeth as he rose to his feet.

His lips returned upon yours. Lifting a hand to the back of your neck, his long fingers buried in your hair as he tilted his head, meeting your tongue with a quick brush of his own. A low hum vibrated in his throat as his palm slid down to rest against your neck, his thumb sat just above the ridge of your jaw.

He kissed the tip of your tongue as he leaned back. Slipping a finger down the opening of your top, he pulled you towards the desk, making you chase after his mouth as he pressed you against its edge.

“Turn around.” He said softly, his fingers toying with the hem of your shirt, feeling the warm skin underneath against their rough pads.

You followed, bending over the desk and propping your palms down on the filthy surface, picking up the dust against your skin. You heard Jason unzip his pants and shuffle them down, groaning as he unsheathed himself. His throbbing cock pressed against your rear as he kicked your feet apart.

“Should’ve shut the fucking door.” He chuckled breathlessly into your ear.

You swallowed thickly, biting your lip. How ironic was that? You were making fun of him for taking care of himself in a less than ideal place. Now you had bent your will to his interest. In that same less than ideal place. Hard to decide which one of you really won in the end.

The tip of Jason’s cock grazed your entrance, sliding up and down as he smeared your wetness all over himself. Nails digging into your hips once more, he pried slowly into your folds. A suppressed grunt tore past his lips as he finally made it in, his harsh heated breaths fanning the side of your neck, his chest heaving against your back. 

A trembling gasp made it through your lips. Your nails scratched the cold surface of the desk, your chin dipping to your chest as your walls stung deliciously, slowly adjusting. Jason began carefully moving in and out, rhythm measured and even, moaning into your shoulder, his teeth sinking into the skin in an attempt to muffle himself. 

“Fuck, baby. Ah. You feel so fucking good.”

Your hips met his every time he brimmed you. He slithered his way in, then slowly dragged his length out, his cock gliding with ease through your swollen folds. His fingers were bruisingly firm on your thighs, his choked groans slipping through clenched teeth. His face hid in the crook of your neck, his disheveled hair tickling the skin. 

His pace slowly increased, and with that, so did your volume. He let two fingers down to your clit, rubbing firm circles into the bud. You let your head back, a loud moan ripping free from your throat, your weight growing light on your knees.

“Shhh.” Jason said in your ear, the sound breaking with each thrust of his hips.

He sped up his fingers, his lips pressing to the length of your neck, the kisses growing sloppier as his rhythm became more erratic. You gritted your teeth, your voice betraying you as you struggled to rein in your moans. The sounds left you in a string of incoherent sounds that died before they had the chance to form into proper words.

“Sweetheart… p—please…” Jason panted. “Quietly. Shit.”

You gasped at the stammer in his words. A sudden bubble of heat burst in your core, making your walls clench around him. Hearing his confidence sink under the weight of his lust made it very difficult to hold yourself back.

And it was as if your voice was defying him almost on purpose now, pouring out more and louder sounds through your lips. Jason gave a defeated grunt, raising a hand to plaster over your mouth, using up the leverage to pound relentlessly into you. You moaned into his palm, chest hitching as halved noises spilled from your throat. 

The ticklish warmth in your core turned rapidly into a stinging heat, your walls fluttering around Jason as you came, your voice slipping through the cracks between his fingers. Jason groaned into your shoulder, finally tipping over the edge as well, brimming you with his warm seed.

He rest his forehead against the back of your neck, his breaths brushing the skin as he calmed down. He loosened his grip on your hips, raising an arm instead to coil around your waist, pulling you to his chest. His stubble pricked your shoulder as he leaned his chin against it, lips finding the soft spot beneath your ear. They lingered moments after the kiss ended as he soaked in the welcoming heat of your skin against his.

“That was…” he started quietly.

“Great?” You finished for him and you felt him nod his head slowly, winding his arms tighter around you. You turned around in his embrace, hanging your arms over his shoulders. “So, where are we going from here?”

His eyes shifted between your features as if you had the answer for him. But then his eyebrow gave a small twitch an instance later, and his face became devoid of its previous emotion, jaw becoming set. He distanced himself from you and began fumbling with his pants.

“What is it?” You insisted.

“We’ll bury today in this room. Nothing happened here as far as I’m concerned.”

You tilted your head, a coy smile quirking your lips. “Riiight. I get what this is.”

“Then I ain’t gotta repeat myself twice.” He gave a curt, almost bordering on professional, nod. His eyes avoided yours as he ran his fingers through his hair.

You picked up his cap from the ground and walked to him, stretching out the article towards him. He went to take it from you only to have his fingers close around empty air as you pulled it back to your chest.

“That means as long as we’re in this room, whatever we do is like never happened. Right?” A playful smirk slowly spread across your lips.

Jason opened his mouth before he closed it wordlessly with a suspicious raise of his brow. You made a circle around him to the door, flipping its lock after closing it. You turned back around to face him.

“I think there’s a lot more we could get up to before we leave.”

[modx-reborn]

I feel like roleplaying is something simpbur would love, he gets to re-enact his wildest dreams with you, he asks for consent ofc, so one day you come back home to see him all dressed up in one of the maid costumes you bought him and he immediately moves to kiss your feet and serve you, who are you to deny your pretty little maid?

—🌟

Ohhh 🌟, your ass is still so very phat...

It was a passing comment a week prior, not something you expected to see when you came home for the day. There on his knees by the door was your partners and resident simp, dolled up in a barely-there maid outfit that honestly you had no idea where he could have gotten on such short notice unless his passing comment was meant to be a tip for what he had wanted to do in the future.

Approaching him you can see just how little this getup would cover should he stand up, running your hands through his hair slowly tangling your fingers in the curls using that grip to make him look up at you.

"And what's this? You wanna play my pretty little maid today? Do everything I ask and shake your ass around the house in that skirt of yours? Or is there something I'm missing here, huh?"

With how you had tilted his head the only response you were given is a muted half nod that was tainted by a moan as he essentially pulled his own hair, pulling your hand away to cup his face pressing your thumb against his bottom lip, waiting for him to open his mouth for you.

Using the moment he doses to slip your thumb in and press down on his tongue, holding his mouth open just long enough to make drool start to leak from the edges of his open mouth. His eyes fluttering as you change your thumb to two fingers, slowly rocking in and out of his mouth enjoying the way he whines when you press just that little bit too far back, not wanting you to stop but not wanting you to go any further.

Cooing that this was the first mess he could clean up while you put everything away from your day, and then you would see about finding something else for such a pretty little maid to do.

By the time you exit your room he is idle in the kitchen, hands fiddling with the skirt he wore, so nervous despite this being his own idea and own scenario he had set up. At any moment he could tap out, could tell you in a single word that he wanted to drop everything and have you show him nothing but care as he comes back to you.

And yet as soon as you stand before him again the fiddling stops and he is dropping to his knees once more, looking up at you with wide eyes and pink cheeks.

"Oh, what a pretty maid I have, so good for me. Knows just how to greet me the moment he sees me, on his knees all pretty and waiting... Now I wonder what lays under that skimpy little skirt you wear?"

Your words trail off as he picks up on the subtle command, lifting the skirt to show you just how far he had taken this little fantasy of his. Black lace to match the getup he dons, a barely-there thing that only hides half of his cock behind the lace, the rest peaking over the top pressed to his stomach. The small shiny patch that catches your eye tells you how long he had been hard under his skirt, waiting for you to play with him or to join in on his little game.

"Oh, would you look at that, my maid is a nasty little slut. Not only does he parade around my home in such a short skirt but black lace and showing it so quickly... Oh, what shall we do with you, such a nasty little maid I have."

[jamiedc-they-them]

The way things moved on (Platonic)

Not requested Imagine: Daisy pays a visit to her sibling, in a bid to get things back to how they were. 

AN - Male pronouns for this. But you can substitute as you wish, of course :)

She didn’t know how long she had been sitting there for. She had even turned the radio off, just letting the silence be her guide. She hadn’t said anything, she had put her little scope down a few moments ago anyway. 

She had been preparing for this, the moment where you both would meet again. 

“Whose that?” Jemma asked, when she saw Daisy going through pictures on her phone of a male, who shared some similarities to her friend, “Not another Miles, is it?” She said in a teasing manner of voice, but the undertones of concern were there. 

Daisy smiled at her best friend, “My brother, Y/N.” She said, not wanting to go any further with it. 

Jemma, however, seemed to pause at the admission, “I didn’t know you had a brother.” She said, both in a displeased and shocked voice. She had raised it a little too, meaning the others in the common room had heard it. 

Daisy tried to quieten her friend down, but had failed to do so and soon the team were in the other chairs, or nearer to this conversation. Daisy sighed, “Just...when we got you back, got a bit nostalgic for a bit is all.” She said, a little quieter, a little bit more hurt. 

Jemma put a hand on her friend’s shoulder, “I’m sorry, I should’ve have --”

“No, it’s ok, Simmons. Just…”

“Was that who was in the photo in the van?” May asked, in a voice that was a softer tone of her usual stoicism (or apparent stoicism). Daisy looked up at her SO with wide eyes, surprised the woman even remembered. 

“Yeah, that was him.” She smiled a bit, remembering the good times you both shared. 

“Seems to have changed a fair amount.” Fitz said, remembering the image Daisy had kept in her room in the BUS vs the one on the phone.

She didn’t like to think that you had changed. That you were different now. Sure, she was definitely different, but you were home. You were both home to each other. 

She didn’t put it off any longer, getting out of the van and making her way to the apartment block you were in. It had definitely seen better days. 

Still, she was in, and making her way up to your room. She had it memorised after trying to find out where you were on the streets. No one had heard of Y/N Johnson, but the first name rang a bell and they pointed her in the right direction.

Her hand shook as she held it up to the door. It had been years, after all. 

“It’s unlocked!” You yelled from inside your apartment. She barely heard you over the thumping sounds from next door and the thumping music from the floor below. 

She tried to the door, and was surprised to find that you were right. 

She entered, seeing a bare bones place with a sleeping mat, not an actual bed, and not much else in the way of furniture. It was a one room place, and was definitely - somehow - worse than how the building looked outside with it’s run down exterior and frankly rotten interior. 

Still, she folded her jacket up in her hand, giving a timid smile as she waited for you to figure out who it was. 

“Told you I’d pay the rent by next week.” You said, eyes still closed. You looked anything but comfy. 

“Think I can give you a pass on that one.” She said, trying to sound lively. 

There was a pause. One that, for her, was the longest she had ever experienced. 

Then, it clicked in you who it was. 

You looked to her, and her smile stayed; she knew that she probably looked like shit with her goth rock era of clothing, mark on her cheek from a visit with the Watchdogs. 

Slowly, you rose up, eyes wide; so many emotions flowing through them at once. 

“Hi, Y/N.” She greeted, trying not to look as tense as she actually was. 

She approached you, but you pushed her away, “Fuck are you doing here?” You asked, venom lacing your tone. 

“I...I came to see you.” She replied, gulping a bit.

“You -- you...what, you done with your little stint at SHIELD?” She had to admit, that hurt a bit. 

“I am.” She said, desperately trying to believe it herself. 

“Bullshit.” You called, she flinched a bit at it. You got close to her, before throwing a punch; her SHIELD reactions kicked in, as she blocked it and hit you with one of her own. 

Then that training was quickly forgotten as you rushed her, slamming her into the wall, she kneed you in the balls, before throwing you into your bed. 

“You left!” You exclaimed as you struggled to flip the fight over in your favour. 

“I had no choice!” She yelled as you finally managed to push her off, but tackled her onto the ground; the two of you knocking the table over. The thumping music downstairs was turned up more to counter your bumps on the walls and floor upstairs. 

“You had a choice to stay! And you chose them over me!” You were pissed, but she had SHIELD training - even if the fight was going the street way of slamming into things and shite punches and knocking everything in the room over as you held onto each other and pushed each other into things in an attempt to hurt the other. It wasn’t a clean fight, glass was also thrown - and somehow missed despite the small size of the room. 

She had no choice, grabbing the piss bucket you had, throwing it at you before wrapping her arms around your neck. 

“Stop. Stop it!” She hissed, pulling back more, until you went limp. 

So much for good reintroductions. 

It took a while, but you finally reawoke, “Oh, you fucking asshole.” You groaned as you slowly got up. She put her phone down, stopping her mindless scrolling on the internet and observed you. 

You looked older, more tired and more fed up than she had ever seen you. You used to have a spark, now that was gone. To be honest, she used to have that too. Then...Lincoln happened. 

Wait --

“What are you still doing here?” You asked, coughing a bit. 

“Came to see you, like I said. I’m done with SHIELD. That whole...thing, that’s done. I want us to work together again. We did a bunch of good things; had some fun.” She said, tone actually having life to it now. 

You looked at your sister, “Sure your SHIELD best friends would want that for you?” 

She shrugged, “Doesn’t matter. I want my brother back. I want my best friend back.” 

Despite what had just happened, you smiled; but she could still see the pain in your eyes at the time lost.

Still, from your perspective, Daisy wasn’t wearing the traditional SHIELD getup. So, maybe there was some truth to her words. 

She saw the smile, and that was all she needed to know and see for her own one to grow as well.

Maybe there was a chance this would work.

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

As you left the complex, you locked it and made your way with your sister outside. As you went down the stairs, your phone went, you pulled it out of your pocket; she saw the number, and it held a picture of a girl who was actually quite pretty. Still, you swiped ‘ignore’ on the call and you both continued on your way. 

“Who was that?” Daisy asked as you held the door for her and made your way to her van, to your old home.

“No one, don’t worry about it.” She didn’t push, but she kept the thought of that woman in the back of her mind as you got in the van. 

You rode shotgun, but then looked at Daisy, “So, where to first, Skye?” Her smile wobbled a bit at her old name being used, “What?” 

“...Nothing, don’t worry about it.” She said, throwing your words back at you. You smiled, before a laugh left your lips. She let out her own out too. That laughter went for a few more seconds before dying down, but your smiles were still there. 

She reached back, grabbing her laptop and bringing it to the front, “Here...take a look.” She said as she typed, bringing up the image of a man, a wealthy one who seemed to have all the makings of the cartoon evil capitalists you had seen (not that there were many, or any good capitalists) but this guy fit the cliche bill. 

“This guy, well more like this asshole, has been selling out Inhumans for money. As if he didn’t have enough. Turns out his lackey’s have been siphoning that asshole energy too. Turns out, most live around here. Same as him, doing a big deal soon, probably gonna go for a drink.” She briefed you, both of you huddled around the laptop. 

She looked at you from the corner of her eye, seeing how your eyes looked more alive just by doing this. 

Yeah, she missed this. 

“Ok, that’s not too far from where we are; we can get in, do some recon then go in?” You asked as Daisy typed away, trying to get into the camera’s. 

“Good idea,” She praised, before going back to the camera’s, “Dammit!” She exclaimed. 

“Too much punching, not enough typing?” She punched your shoulder, “Just because I’m right.” You groaned, rubbing your arm. 

“You wanna try?” She offered, holding the laptop up to you. 

You shook your head, “I’ll take us there, instead, do recon the old fashioned way.” 

So, you swapped seats, and were then on your way. 

She gave you a pair of binoculars as she looked through her scope, parked on the other side of the bar. The night life of the city being in full swing. 

“How long have you both been together for?” Daisy asked as you both continued to look through your binoculars. 

“About 3 years. You’d like her.” 

“Guess doing the ‘hurt him, I hurt you’ speech is better 3 years late than never.” You hummed at her words, focusing on your targets. 

“Got ‘em.” You said, adjusting Daisy’s scope to get them in view; despite her complaining. 

“Alright, you go in, I’ll be your get away.” 

You lowered your binoculars, “What? Why me?” You asked. 

She lowered her scope and looked at you, “I did just say ‘I’ll be your get away’. One of us has got to be that. I mean, you can’t fly...can you?” She asked, the last bit being more hesitant. 

“No, why?” You questioned back.

“No reason. I mean, imagine that, right? You get Inhuman powers.” She managed to make the laugh genuine, mainly at the thought of you - someone scared of heights - taking off in flight. 

You scoffed, “I’d kick ass with that.” 

She looked up and hummed, “No, I don’t think you would.” 

“I would.” 

Daisy gave it more thought, “No, I don’t really think you would.” She chuckled a bit after; she definitely missed this. 

“Whatever,” You said; to Daisy, you were conceding as you got out of the van, “Be right back.” You said, closing the door. 

She rolled down her window, “I’ll be around the back!” You just nodded as you continued walking to the bar. 

You entered the bar, the nightlife actually helping you in your escapade. The large crowd in the bar helping you blend in. And, despite looking like an evil CEO cliche, he was mingling with the locals. So, the guy might be a monster, but not an antisocial one. So, you had that going for you. 

Still, his minions were there, of course, at the bar and chatting to all the women they could, all in an attempt to get a shag. You squeezed your way through, accidentally knocking into one of the men as he was led off with a woman, “Sorry, pal.” The guy said, with a charming smile on his face. 

You gave one in return, patting him on the arm as your hand went into his pocket and grabbed his wallet, “Nothing to be sorry for,” You said, passing him, “...Asshole.” You said under your breath as you continued along your way. You passed some faces you recognised, and all looked confused that you were out at this time of night. 

Daisy, meanwhile, sat in the van, head against the window and looking at the mirrors for any sight of you. This was the part she didn’t like, waiting. 

Before her disappearance, she had always had it come down to a game of rock, paper, scissors, to see who would go in and who would wait. 

Now, she had her powers, and she knew she would’ve been recognised. So, she sat and waited. 

Your phone buzzed again, this time another call from your partner; this time, Daisy found the name, Angela. 

You had gone through ⅘ of the targets, chatting to them before stealing from them, the usual really. 

Then there was the big guy (not literally) himself. You were at his table, talking to him and getting along despite the disdain you felt for him and what he had done. 

“...My sister used to work for SHIELD.” You said to the guy, trying to get him to trust you further. 

“She does?” He asked, becoming suspicious. 

“She did,” You corrected, “Left ‘em. Went back to her old ways.” 

“Oh yeah? What’s that, then?” He asked, taking a hit from his cigarette. 

Time to do what you and your sister did best then, “This,” At that, you held up his credit card; his eyes widened, “Thanks for this.” 

“You shit --” He tried to grab you as you got up. He missed, and you entered the packed crowd, you heard him calling after you, but the music and crowd drowned him out. You shuffled through, weaving in different directions so you would lose him better. He was going in a straight line, you were going in all sorts of directions. 

You got out, but he was out there too, “HEY!” He called. You sprinted, and he was right on your ass. For someone who sat on his ass all day, he was quick, you had to admit. 

Daisy let the phone go, once again, to voice mail. Then she heard it, “Skye!” in the background, and getting louder and louder and the sound of footsteps hitting the pavement in quick succession of each other. 

It was you. 

“Shit.” She cursed, quickly going to the back and opening the back doors before reversing. Just as she reached the end of the alley, you jumped in, the momentum of the van enclosing you in the safe place of the van. She swerved it to the side, finally facing forward before stepping on the accelerator. You heard the CEO yelling after you, but he was soon too far away for you to hear. 

You laughed, laying down and catching your breath. You then sat up, crouching and closing the back doors, then moving to the shotgun seat. 

“How much you get?” Daisy asked, and you held up all five cards in response, you shared a high five. 

At an ATM, you started to grab all the money you could off of it. The money the crew had made from selling off information on Inhumans was now yours. 

And it was a lot. Daisy had brought bags, but you were getting close to filling them up. 

After you were done, you sat in your van, counting up just how much it was as your phone went off again. 

“She’s been calling all night.” Daisy told you as she continued to zip up the bags. 

You answered it, “Angela?...Ho- Hold on, slow down….What do you mean?...Shit....Alright, I’ll be there soon.” Daisy only heard your side of the call, but you then hung up and all that joy from the night was gone.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” She asked you, moving away from the bag and to the driver's seat. 

“I need to drive.” You ordered her, tone now serious. 

“Y/N, what’s --”

“Skye, just let me fucking drive!” You demanded. She did so with no issue. 

“What’s going on?” She asked once again. 

“It’s SHIELD.” Was all you said, but it was enough. 

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

“Y/N, it could be a trap.” Daisy said, trying to get you to not get to Angela. To not get to SHIELD. 

“Why the fuck would SHIELD do that, they’re your people, aren’t they?” You asked, driving much quicker than the speed limit actually was. 

“They aren’t, not anymore.” She answered, speaking way quicker than she was before. 

“Why? I know you, Daisy,” She felt the sting at the way you said her actual name, “You don’t just fuck off and leave. Might as well tell me what else you’ve been keeping!” 

It was all getting too much, “Ok, ok! I was brought in after I tried to find things on our parents. But..they aren’t the bad guys, Y/N.” She said, worried; she knew how dangerous the two of you could be when in revenge or protective mode. 

“When did I fucking say that? You’re hauling ass from something --”

“My powers! I hurt my friends with my powers.” Your rage changed; it changed to fear. 

“...What?!” You screamed, nearly losing control of the van, but being able to bring it back on track before it became fatal. 

“W-we’re Inhuman, Y/N. We have to go through a thing called Teri--”

“The pill things, right? I remember something about them.” 

Daisy found herself nodding, “You didn’t take any, did you?” She asked, fear coating her voice. 

She was thankful when you shook your head, “No, stayed clear of all that shit. Why didn’t you tell me?” The hurt was clear. 

“I wanted to --”

“But you didn’t.” Then there was the bite to that one. 

“I couldn’t.” 

“Why not?” You changed gear and went even faster. 

“Because Coulson warned me of the dangers of dragging you into it. I wanted to tell you, warn you, especially after mom --”

“Wait, you found her?” 

Shit, “...And dad.” 

Your look of rage and disbelief returned, “You -- you found them?” But your voice had softened considerably. 

“I did,” She became a little teary, “Dad...he was a murderer, but he loved me - us, mom did too but...Y/N, she tried to start a war with Inhumans against SHIELD. I couldn’t lose my friends.” 

You were silent for a moment, and all she did was stare at you, seeing the light from the lights on the road hit your face and show the looks in your eyes that shifted between rage and conflict, “You did what you did, no going back. If I was there, I’d do the same.”

“You would?” She breathed out, not expecting forgiveness. 

“You knew your friends longer than our parents.” You justified it as. 

“I’m sorry for dragging Angela into this.” She meant that. 

You shook your head, “We were coming to an end anyway. Figured with the money, I could maybe set her up with a place.” 

“Why are you...you know?” She asked, trying to distract from your destination and the reason as to why you were headed to it. 

“Just fell out of love. Shit happens. Can’t stop change, Daisy, just how you react to it.” 

You left her alone, knowing that you both had a lot to ponder on as you continued your journey to your old home. 

You arrived. And Daisy was impressed, it was a decently sized house. As she got out, despite the reasoning for your visit and your crumbling relationship with Angela, she was happy for you, genuinely. 

Then reality set back in, “Alright, you go around the back, keep an ear out, I’ll go deal with them.” You ordered, pointing around for the way to go to the back. 

“You sure?” She asked, not in doubt of your ability, just in concern. 

You paused, “Might wanna move the bags, just in case.” She nodded, going to do that, as you made your way to the front door. As soon as you approached it, Angela walked out of it, making sure the two SHIELD agents hadn’t followed her as she shut the door, but still spoke in a hushed voice. 

“What the fuck, Y/N?! 16 calls and a bunch of texts, and nothing?!” She was pissed, and even shoved you back a bit. 

“Look, I’m sorry, ok? I know that’s not gonna do jackshit right now; and I know I’ve got no reason to ask for this, but I need a favour.” You knew what she was going to say, “It’s Skye,” That made her pause, however, “Or...Daisy, now.” 

“She’s here?” Angela asked, she had heard about your sister. 

“Tracked me down, had a run or two with her.” Angela hit you in the chest. 

“That’s why they’re here, aren’t they?” She asked, tremble in her voice, but she knew the answer. 

“Think so. She did some shit as well, things got complicated at SHIELD.” Angela nodded, knowing what your request would be. 

Daisy, meanwhile, crouched down and was thankful for it being night with the way it covered her movements. She made her way to the back, just as she promised you. Besides, as much as you had a point at running from what she had done at SHIELD, you were her brother, this was different. You had been through all sorts, and she wasn’t going to run from this if you weren’t. 

She went to a window, a window that gave her a clear view of yourself and Angela, but she knew who the two SHIELD agents were, she recognised if just from the back of their heads. 

Coulson and Mack. 

She saw the conversation, the way you scoffed and had an attitude with yourself, the way even Angela did too. 

Sure, Daisy knew your relationship was near an end romantically, but it still seemed you cared about each other, even if not in that way anymore. 

Either way, the conversation was getting heated, and Mack rose from his seat. Uh-oh. 

When Daisy looked back, though, her heart dropped, Coulson was looking right at her. 

She only heard one command from you, even if a bit muffled, “RUN!”. 

She did. She was running. She was going as fast as her legs could take her, but her lungs were burning. She was running though, as if SHIELD were chasing her. 

They were, but this time not...well, maybe not with a kill order. 

Coulson wouldn’t kill her, Mack wouldn’t kill her. 

But she wasn’t so sure about you. 

You were in danger, she heard something smash in the house, so she was sure you and Angela were being dumb. She was sure you were bein stupid and fighting. You were a street kid by nature, and they were trained SHIELD agents. 

She had left her van. She had left the money. Fuck, they were going to nail you with --

Her phone went off. She pulled it out of her pocket, allowing herself to stop and catch her breath. He put the phone to her ear, “Yeah?” 

“It’s me.” It was Angela. 

Daisy let out a breath, “Are you guys ok?” She asked.

“We’re...fine. Your friends are gone, don’t think they saw which way you went. Besides, we managed to hold them back for a bit.” 

“God, I’m sorry.” 

“No, no, no. It...well, it was almost kind of fun, a change of pace with the two of us. But...he looked happier. So, I need to thank you for that. Gave him a good run in nostalgia.” 

“You aren’t pissed?” Daisy was confused. 

Angela laughed, “Course I’m not, it’s how Y/N and I met, on the Rising Tide. But, we knew your friends weren’t bad, even if they were a bit pushy. But, eh, nice to have a go at authority one more time.” 

Daisy smiled a small amount, “And Y/N --”

“Is fine, they let him go. Says they’ll call back with an offer.” 

Oh, “And you?” 

“Currently? On a bus to the airport with the money in toe. Already processed and ready to leave this place. I’ll keep an eye on Y/N though, when you can’t.” She offered. 

Daisy was now actually smiling, “Thank you.” With that, Daisy hung up. 

Time for her to make her own exit. 

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

 She went back, the house was now empty. Weird, given what had just transpired. Still, empty meant no one there. As Daisy approached, she saw that the money was indeed gone. She shook her head, you guys moved quickly.

Still, her van was there, if probably having been picked through. But, that didn’t matter, SHIELD was gone. 

So, she entered it, turned the key in the ignition, and set off. 

She knew the way out, afterall, her GPS was there. That, and her leads on a guy who was known as “The rider” was in LA. So, she knew where she was going. 

She passed a sign, “Thank you for visiting!” It said. She cleared past it, fully on her way. 

But she saw it, she saw it up ahead. She slowed down, thanking the early hours of the morning for not causing a traffic jam. 

A SHIELD roadblock. They knew she’d go that way. She looked through her scope, only to see Coulson doing the same thing. 

Shit. 

She slammed the reverse gear on, stepping on it and doing a J-turn before booking it back into where she came from. 

She skidded around a corner, getting out the van in a hurry and running to an alleyway. In any other case, she would be cornered. In any other case, she would be doomed. If she was still the street kid she was - and would always be in some way. 

But that was Skye, this was Daisy Johnson, someone trained by an agency and someone with powers. 

So, she put her hand on the floor, felt the vibrations…

And shot off to a rooftop. 

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

2 months had passed, and Daisy had gotten a few texts from Angela and you. Angela was well, living in Spain now with the money you had stolen from the CEO. 

Turned out, that was the only venture that guy had that wasn’t involved in his business, and with the money lost, the Watchdogs turned on him and his goons. 

You, meanwhile, had been given a job at SHIELD. Yeah, weird that, but you took it. 

You sat in your room, hiding away from your new friends for a moment as you dialed Daisy’s burner phone number, “There he is.” She said over the line. 

“Just checking in.” You said with a smile. 

“You know me, some things never change.” She said. Despite herself being in pain, you knew that she needed some space. Plus, these calls helped reassure the other that you were ok. 

“Somethings never do. But, speaking of that, Fitzsimmons are a thing now.” 

You heard slight excitement in her voice, “Really?!” 

“Affirmative.” You heard the humorous hum she let out at your word choice, “As for me, I’m settling in now. Mack and I keep having rematch after rematch. Can actually fight now. Heard what you did the other day on the bridge. Scared the shit out of me, but --”

“I’m still alive, Y/N. I’m here.” She said. You knew her mental state was anything but good, but you hoped that these calls helped, that they could maybe change the thinking for a moment. 

So, you laid back and let her know what had happened at SHIELD this week. 

Somethings had changed, others hadn't. But you knew you had each other. No matter what that change was.

[trinketprince]

Calming Detective Osomatsu (and it’s spin-offs)

Not including plain Detective and Thief costumes that have no relation to Calming Detective like the Phantom Thieves set from Hesokuri Wars, Pazzmatsu or Tabimatsu or the detective promo art from the Osomatsu Movie x Cafe collab.

Basically I just rewatched Calming Detective and I wanna compile how deep this rabbit hole goes. Sorry for another long post, like my youkai compilation post. But!!! Let’s get started shall we?

“Calming Detective Osomatsu” from Osomatsu-san S1E8

The original iteration, Iconic. Oso stans love Calming Detective Osomatsu. This skit parodies detective mystery novels, playing with it’s tropes.

Osomatsu - Calming Detective (dressed in the stereotypical 1800′s detective. This is important)

Karamatsu - Victim who owns the Mansion

Choromatsu - Head Inspector

Ichimatsu - Red Herring

Jyushimatsu - Forensics Team

Todomatsu - Assistant Inspector

Hijirisawa Shonosuke - Killer

Dayon, Dekapan, Hatabou, Chibita, Iyami - Secondary Victims

Since it’s a season 1 skit a lot of games used this au early on.

I’m only gonna show the Hesokuri Wars Banner but it was also used in Damematsu, Tabimatsu, Osomatsu Sanpo, Pazzmatsu (not documented), and Matsuno Family Dependents (Not documented). Shimamatsu also had this set, including a second altered outfit when you level the unit up.

Hesokuri Wars also featured the mansion itself called the Calming Mansion which has a short story.

“Jyushimatsu and a Bomb” from Osomatsu-san S1E17

This AU will later be expanded with “Jyushimatsu and a Bomb”, although dropping the mystery aspect and instead parodies a high-tension bomb diffusion. This skit would later be used in Hesokuri Wars, and this is the only game it’s appeared in so far.

Ichimatsu - Head Inspector (I assume since he’s in the same getup as Choromatsu)

Jyushimatsu - Bomb Squad

Todomatsu - Assistant Inspector (The only connection to Calming Detective Osomatsu)

Jyushimatsu and Ichimatsu get new roles for this skit and so far Karamatsu is the only one a role in the police force (other than the Pachinko Police, but that doesn’t count... right now) or a significant role in general. Well that changes in the next entry.

“The Return of Calming Detective Osomatsu” from DaVinci May 2016 issue

A story written by Otsuichi. A retelling of the original Calming Detective Osomatsu Skit, but rather than going all the way with the parody, it’s a bit more serious and there is more mystery involved without losing the charm of Calming Detective Osomatsu. More backstory is given to the denizens of the Mansion. You can read parts 1 & 2 here and parts 3 & 4 here, with a lovely translation by @intra-fiducia​. The new roles given to the cast are: *SPOILERS, Please read the story first if you do not want to be spoiled. It’s a good story and very well written.*

Karamatsu - Flashy Gardener who becomes a victim

Totoko - Maid (who dreams of becoming an idol, on friendly terms with Karamatsu)

Chibita - Chef (only cooks oden, friendly terms with Karamatsu)

Iyami - Owns the Mansion

*SPOILERS FOR REAL* Ichimatsu - Real Owner of the mansion, locked away by Iyami underground 

*END SPOILERS*

Dayon and Dekapan - Travelers headed north (yeah it’s a reference to that one skit)

All other sextuplets keep their original roles.

“Matsumoto Kiyoshi” Merchandise from their Osomatsu-san Collab

Last minute addition, I didn’t even realize that something was different. While almost everyone kept their original roles, Karamatsu and Ichimatsu were changed. Even the setting has changed, rather than your typical mansion the murder happens in a high-rise apartment. There is also a 20-second commercial featuring original animation.

Karamatsu - now an owner of a high-rise apartment, he still dies and writes a dying message

Ichimatsu - presumably still a red herring, he traded his Jason butcher outfit for an oni costume.

Jyushimatsu - still forensics team but his demeanor has changed back to his original jyushimatsu personality rather than serious forensics team.

“Detectives and Theives Poster” from the Osomatsu-san Character Book #3

Ok so remember when I said that you should remember that Osomatsu’s detective outfit is based on 1800′s detective fashion? Well turns out that Phantom Thieves (or Gentlemen Thieves/Kaito in Japan) and Detective stories like Arsene Lupin and Sherlock Holmes which take place around the same time period is super popular in Japan. Like Kaito Kid and Lupin III. Another departure from the mansion murder mystery of the original skit, this poster features:

Osomatsu - Calming Detective / Sherlock role (?)

Karamatsu - Inspector Lestrade role (?)

Choromatsu - Doctor Watson role (?)

Otoutomatsu - Gentlemen Thieves

Phantom Thieves and Detectives set from Damematsu

Damematsu released a second set very loosely based on Calming Detective Osomatsu where they’re detectives by day and Phantom Thieves by night. The detectives and thieves are all references to various detectives and thieves in media, I don’t know all the references but I’m p sure Karamatsu references Zorro and Todomatsu references Luke from Professor Layton and Kaito Kid.

Pachinko Machine Designs from D-Light/Daiichi a Pachinko Machine Manufacturer

This one is VERY very loosely related to Calming Detective Osomatsu. This time, Choromatsu dons the Calming Detective Osomatsu design, and that’s really the only connection it has to Calming detective. Jyushimatsu’s dog form from the Pachinko Police returns, as a crossover from Pachinko Police and Calming Detective. The other four are various Phantom Thieves.

Clumsy Detective Jyushimatsu from Tabimatsu

Yeah that’s right, you read that right. Calming Detective Osomatsu got a spin-off event for Tabimatsu called Clumsy Detective Jyushimatsu.

Anyway, those are all the variants of calming detective osomatsu so far. I’m not really hoping for another CDO skit soon, since the 1st one is already ok. But I do love me some mystery and it seems like the Werewolf skit next episode will deliver!! Who knows maybe they might throw in some CDO bones for us!! My favorite one has to be the Otsuichi story, I really doubt we’ll get a lot of those kinds of stories in the anime (aside from the occasional ones here and there), but I’ve always loved when the anime throws in a few low-energy, less-gags, skits in the season like “Inn” from Season 2, and the story really scratches that itch.

Edit: turns out that the mansion in the werewolf skit next week is the same mansion calming detective osomatsu is in 👀👀

[celestias-right-hoof-mas-au]

WARNING: Although this particular chapter does not depict violence or cursing, future installments will. As this story is based on an adult parody of MLP called The Mentally Advanced Series. I would encourage that if you had not watched it to do so to get a grasp of the world in which this takes place. Many of the jokes, lore, and otherwise are in reference to MAS, not just simply My Little Pony. I have also made a supercut that includes every reference and appearance of Celestia in the series. In case watching the entire MAS series maybe too time consuming. If you find Celestia, or other canon characters, used in crude and unpleasant depictions offensive, this is your warning. However, I would appreciate that you take a look anyway with an open mind. Celestia Supercut Link

Next > 

   The morning sun shimmered through Valiance Ascalon’s window. The large pale horse finished packing her briefcase and donned her metallic purple and gold armor. Her parents, a large albino shire and a dusty unicorn, awaited her along with the whole town of Salo at its entrance for Valiance’s departure.

   “... And remember to mind your manners, she is generous, but easily disrespected.” Valiance’s mother, the unicorn, warned as she stood on her back legs to give her daughter one final hug.

   “I know, Ma. You’ve told me several times.” Valiance replied warmly, returning the hug.

   “Don’t you forget about us either, write to us when you get the chance.” her father, the shire, said gruffly.

   “Yes, Pa, I knooow.” Valiance teasingly replied as she also gave him one more hug, “I’ll be sure to write to you as soon as I get settled.”

   “Hey, Valiance!” called a young colt who squeezed his way through the crowd, “I heard you’re going to Canterlot to work for Celestia. You better be nice, or she’ll have ya flailed!”

   “Junior!” the colt’s mother barked, slapping him in the back of the head.

   “Ow! What’d I do?! I was only telling her the truth!” the colt yelped, rubbing his head.

   Valiance chuckled, adjusting her helmet on before kneeling to the colt, “Thanks for the warning, but I think I’ll be ok.” She gave his mane a good ruffling before rising to her hooves. Within a few short strides, all she ever knew was behind her. Then, for one last time, she looked back to the town and proudly declared, “Hail Celestia!”

   “Hail Celestia!” cheered the villagers as they watched Valiance make her leave and waved goodbye.

   The town of Salo was located on the dryer half of the Hayseed Swamps where its residents lived in relative isolation for generations. Its closest neighbor was Dodge Junction, and even then, the walk Valiance had traversed, had taken from dawn to the early afternoon. It wasn’t the first time she had visited the junction for its train station, however, this time was different. Whether it was with her parents, with her classmates, or helping any of the local farmers deliver goods, Valiance had seen her fair share of mainland Equestria, if but briefly and never alone.

   Butterflies aggressively fluttered in her chest once she sat down in her seat on the train. The pony adjacent to her only quickly flipped through his paper as she attempted to gain his attention.

   “Sorry,” Valiance blurted out, “I’m quite nervous, it’s the first time I’m riding the train alone, heh, what about you?”

   The business pony shot her a look with half opened eyes, “Lady, it’s my job.” He flipped his paper to shield himself from the bizarre mare, yet her striking size and armor left his curiosity to be satisfied. Closing his eyes and taking in a sharp sigh, he threw his paper to his side and asked, “So what's your story?”

   Though the stallion could not see her face underneath her helmet, a gleam in Valiance’s eyes shimmered and a smile grew on her lips, “Oh! I am on my way to Canterlot to serve no other than Princess Celestia herself!”    “That explains the getup, but why would you wanna do something like that?”

   “Why wouldn’t I? What could be more meaningful in life than serving Celestia herself?”

   The stallion paused for a moment before lightly chuckling, “I get it now. You’re one of those cultists, aren’t you?”

   Valiance gasped, “I-I beg your pardon? A cultist?”

   “Yeah, every couple of years some loons come outta the woodwork sacrificing foals in the name of Celestia. It makes sense too, since you’re here at Dodge Junction. You probably swam outta the Hayseed Swamps, didn’t you?”

   “Well… yes. But I assure you, we’re not cultists. And we don’t sacrifice fillies. How could you say that to someone you just met?”

   “Hey, don’t worry about it.” He smiled while patting her shoulder, “I’m a cultist too. There’s a bunch of freaks and weirdos like us in the city. You’ll feel right at home.”

   Valiance sunk deep into her seat, regretting opening her mouth. As the stallion returned to his paper with a comforted smile, Valiance hoped her new acquaintance's words were exaggerated.

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

   It was late afternoon when the train had finally reached Canterlot. The cultist gave a friendly wave as Valiance rushed off trying not to look back. She quickly looked towards the station’s clock and noted, ‘I better grab a room so I can hurry to the military signup office before it closes.’ She briskly booked a room in the closest hotel she came across and rushed to the castle. With five minutes to spare, Valiance slammed the door open to the enlistment office.

   “Excuse me, there’s no need to cause a ruckus.” the front desk pony insisted as he shuffled a stack of papers, “How can I help you?”

   “I’m so sorry, but I didn’t want to wait until tomorrow to sign up.” Valiance panted, removing her helmet.

   “Eager to enlist? Never heard of that before. Well, here’s the papers, be sure to read thoroughly and don’t pretend like we didn’t warn you.” the secretary grunted as he handed Valiance a stack of documents.

   Valiance thought to herself aloud, “Wow, who would’ve thought it was so easy.”

   “That’s what they all say.” the secretary winked, “Let me know how it goes in a month. They always beg to get out.”

   Valiance’s signature sealed her fate in every document and with a smile stamped across her face, no less. Her stomach was tingling in excitement as the secretary looked over her papers.

   “Welcome to the royal army, soldier.” the secretary remarked while stamping her documents, “You’re in luck, the next boot camp starts up in a few days. Here’s a card of where it will be and what time. Don’t be late, cause we’ll find you if you are.”

   Valiance took the card while she giggled and jumped in place. Just that morning, she was back at home, and now she was working for the God Princess herself. Suddenly, she stopped, “Won’t I need a physical and mental examination of some sort?”

   “Sure. But that’ll come when boot camp starts. Not to mention, you look healthy enough. But between you and me, everypony gets accepted. Where do you think the masked guards come from?” the secretary asked as he leaned in closer, “Just don’t ask them about that. In fact, don’t ask them anything, ever. Don’t talk to them.”

   Valiance tightened her lips, “Thank you. I’ll, uh, be sure to keep that in mind.” Slowly she backed out of the office, wishing the secretary a goodnight, and into the evening air. With the amber glow of her magic, she wrapped her mane up as tightly as she could before placing her helmet back on. Despite the secretary’s warnings, Valiance didn’t feel any less enthusiastic about her success. She stretched and cracked her neck, wanting nothing more than to grab a quick bite to eat before heading back to her hotel room for some much needed rest. Thinking back to past field trips as a filly, she recalled the castle garden also led to the entrance and began to make her way through there as a shortcut.

   Inside, beautiful plants of nearly every kind flourished. Contrastly, horribly disfigured marble statues with faces of pure fear and agony drew the eye from every direction. ‘I don't remember the sculptures in the garden being so… what was it? Avant-garde?’ Valiance thought as she looked at a statue of a goblin-like creature mooning her, a lone pigeon sitting right on its exposed bottom.

   "They say that my work inspired the art of Jeffrey Dahmare." A low voice echoed from behind. Valiance froze at the sound and slowly turned to face the source. Towering over even her, hair glistening in the colors of day, stood the God Princess, Celestia. A confident smirk graced her lips, “Do you like it, Pale One?”

   Before Valiance’s knees could buckle from Celestia’s poise, she kneeled and lowered her head, “Your majesty, it’s an honor to be in your presence.”

   “I couldn’t help but be drawn towards your armor. It’s a vintage design. Where do you come from?”

   “The village of Salo, ma’am.”

   “Salo, you say? My, it has been a long time since someone mentioned that name. One of the few populations I needed not show force for their cooperation. Your people’s naivete is amusing, however, your innocence is admirable to an extent.”

   Valiance held her breath, unsure of the princess’ intentions behind her statement. Yet, after a moment, she replied with slight shakiness, “Much obliged, your majesty.”

   “Tell me, why are you here, Pale One?” Celestia asked.

   “As you said, our devotion to you is as strong today as when Salo was founded. To serve and to die for you would be my greatest honor.” Valiance replied humbly, “Today, I signed up for the royal army, in hopes of bringing glory to you, and the ponies of Salo.”

   Celestia’s eyes narrowed and her grin grew wider. After a few moments of silence, Celestia turned away towards the castle. As she departed she called back to Valiance, “I expect nothing but the best from my soldiers.”

   When Celestia left the premise, Valiance sprinted out of the castle grounds, heart pounding, and mind racing. Rushing to her hotel room, she threw off her armor, leapt onto her bed, and screamed into her pillow. Not a more perfect day could’ve existed for Valiance and in a few days her dream of servitude would begin.

   Before then, Valiance pulled out a pen and paper and began a letter to home about her first day in Canterlot.

[sleekervae]

Young God [0.2]

"Andy!" Danny came jumping off the stage and embraced Andy with a proper teddy bear-bro hug. He was slightly sweaty and he smelled like the inside of a mini fridge. Andy's mouth was dry. Reanimating himself slowly, he licked his lips as he looked up to see the other approaching band members.

"Good to see ya', man," Ben jumped down next and greeted him with a high-five.

"You too," he said, "How's life across the pond?"

"Oh, ya know," Danny sighed, "Rainy, dreary, full of uppity capitalists,"

"Home sweet home!" Sam called. Andy swallowed again as they spoke, his eyes shifted to the girl with blue hair just sat in his peripherals.

"How're the ribs?" Ben asked.

Andy subconsciously patted the tight wrapping around his torso, well hidden by his own raggedy tank-shirt, "Still painful, but nothing a shot of whiskey could fix at the end of the night," he said.

Taylor watched the boys catch up with fictitious interest. This had happened to her previous times before in pubs back in England. Usually, she wouldn't care much for Danny to talk smack with his mates, but this time was different. The lanky stranger donned in black was like a cartoon character out of a Japanese horror manga. But behind that curtain of jet-black hair, his face was very pretty, and his blue eyes, despite being clouded with fatigue, were inquisitive and clearly studying her back. She cleared her throat to garner their attention.

Danny then chuckled sheepishly, "Andy, this is Taylor. Taylor, Andy,"

Then Andy turned his full attention to the girl he had found so endearing and took a step forward, lifting his chin. He was hit with the awareness that he was experiencing of those grand moments which you were supposed to fully absorb and remember every detail of, pay attention to every sense so that you could recall or retell it when you were nostalgic, when you missed it, longed for the time and place of that situation instead, but he couldn't focus properly.

"Nice to meet you," he shrugged, forcing as much confidence into his voice as he could, holding out his hand.

"Back at ya', babe,"

Her voice had laced within it a hint of mockery, but her smile was too gentle and warm to be clearly challenging him and Andy pushed the initial panic to the back of his mind, reaching forward to take her outstretched hand instead, shaking it slowly and cupping it with his other. Her accent was strong and thick, not soft and posh like Danny and Ben's. It was unique and hard, and it added an eccentricity to her character.

Taylor winced as soon as the nickname left her lips. She hadn't chosen it purposely, it had just sort of slipped out as a defence mechanism against the nervous knotting in her stomach, but she added a firm nod to show that she was happy in her choice, ignored Ben and James' sniggers and tried to keep up the act of being unfazed by his intimidating sublimity.

Andy couldn't hold back the satisfied smirk that spread to his face, "That's a sexy accent," he said.

"I believe you're the only one who thinks so," Taylor replied.

"Don't be that way, Taylor!" Danny scolded, "I love your hard-to-hear accent,"

Ben crossed his arms at Taylor's impending scowl, "Taylor's a new rock act from Newcastle. She was our opener on our last tour," he explained to Andy.

"You could say we've adopted her," Sam said.

"Because that doesn't make you sound creepy," Taylor pointed out, "Are you a performer, Andy? Or just an elaborate fanboy?"

Andy feigned off a blithe chuckle, "I'm with my band. You ever heard of Black Veil Brides?" he asked.

"I think Danny was dancing to your record in the bus last week,"

"Aye, he were," Cameron chimed in, "Flapping his fucking arms and bouncing drunk off his arse,"

"I think I right turned him on," Danny grinned with pride.

"You wish," Cameron scoffed.

Taylor smirked in a coy response, "You ain't his type, Danny," she said, "Cameron like's 'em skinnier and a lot less hairy,"

"Oh, fuck off, Taylor!" Danny sneered back, "All the girls want this fucking sex appeal!"

Andy stood back and looked around, sniggering to himself, "Where?" he joked and Taylor laughed in response. She then leaned back on the rail and extended her hand out.

"Nice, mate," she grinned and he low-fived her.

Ben's smile only grew from there and he threw his arm around Danny's broad shoulders, "They're just jealous, my love," he said, "Don't listen to 'em,"

"Cue 'Can You Feel the Love Tonight'," Sam remarked.

Upon the stage, the band suddenly stopped and turned when they heard their manager whistle out loud, "C'mon, fellas! We don't have all day!" he called.

"We're coming, Kyle!" Ben shouted, "Keep your knickers on!"

The boys quickly climbed back on the stage and took their places again, though when Ben plugged his guitar back in the amplifier squealed out with tremendous cacophony. Taylor winced and covered her ears. From there, they tore into their next set piece.

Andy glanced at her again as she adjusted her seat on the rail. Her ankles were crossed and her wrists were pressed back under the weight of her arms, though something in her posture struck him as having an air of elegance.

"You wanna go for a walk?" he asked her over the music.

Taylor glanced up at him, then looked back over at Danny who was too enthralled in his screamo singing, "Sure,"

The temperature in the air was slowly rising and Taylor could feel it more than Andy. She had quickly tied up her hair in a messy knot bun as they wandered around the field, watching tents being pitched and listening in on sets that would take place later in the day. Taylor was doing her best to keep her composure as they walked side-by-side, trying not to feel so small next to Andy both in physicality and metaphorically. He had the same sort of charming personality that Danny held, though she found that he spoke with an eloquence that she hadn't at all expected from someone who looked the way he did. And his voice as deep, yet velvet-smooth, despite him stuttering on his words here and there. Taylor hadn't heard him sing yet but she was eager for the opportunity, just to hear what his voice sounded like.

"So, are you big in the UK?" Andy asked.

"I'm more of a proper C-Lister," she nodded with a smirk, "There's the forty-sixty chance of people recognizing me on the street," she then looked him up and down again, "I'm sure you got no problem getting spotted in public, eh?"

"Comes with the getup," Andy grinned, "I get eyed up more by security in department stores than I do in the fucking Starbucks, though,"

"Why do you get all dressed up like that?" she asked.

His eyes carried a personable twinkle as he pulled another cigarette from his pocket, "For the same reason you dye your hair: theatricality. Individuality,"  

On instinct, Taylor brushed her fingers at the nape of her neck, just meeting the scratchy frongs of loose hair that were sticking out, "So do you do the same kind of screamo music Danny and them do?"

"Sort of," Andy shrugged, "Cam said you guys were listening to my records last week, right?"

"Danny were. I was hiding in one of the back bunks pretending I didn't know him," she replied with a devious grin, "I love him to death, but he can't dance for shit. Especially when he's smashed,"

Andy chuckled back, "Yeah, I've had to witness his pelvis thrusting a few times, unfortunately," he said. He lit the cigarette, took a quick puff, then offered it to Taylor. She looked at the bud warily, but accepted.

"I wasn't paying much attention, but I liked what I heard," she admitted, "Of your record,"

Andy kept his composure, but he felt a nervous smile playing at his lips, "Oh, yeah?"

She puffed on the cigarette before handing it back to him, "Yeah. There was one I thought was really cool. There was this sick guitar rift that was in my head all night -- it just went like..."

Taylor raised her arms and curved her hands to make out like she was playing air guitar, humming a rickety melody that was close to the guitar break in Knives and Pens. The melody was instantly recognizable to Andy, but he let her carry on longer than necessary to watch her, the giggle she let out after the third repetition of the riff delicious. He already knew he would struggle to pay attention to the song later when he had to play it, hoped she'd be at the side of the stage nodding along just like that, humming, wondered if her hips would move to the beat too, if he'd be able to watch it from where his mic was placed, if she'd keep that fearless eye contact that was slowly driving him crazy.

"I think that was supposed to be Knives and Pens," he chuckled once she had stopped giggling to catch her breath.

She nodded, her lips twitching with playfulness, "And I think did a fucking fantastic job on me air guitar,"

"Alright, I got me an emergency guitar player," he chuckled, nudging her with his elbow slightly.

Taylor blushed and Andy noted the rose colour of her cheeks before she could hide them partially in her hands, caught on her youthful radiance, couldn't help but want to see the same colour a thousand times over just so he could marvel at how soft and delicate she was.

Her cheeks were still burning but she lifted her eyes slowly back to his and gave a tentative smile, wrapping her pinky round one of her curls and tugging at it, "Well, if you ever need a backup, I could fill in for that one song and one song only, Andy,"

Andy was convinced his heart was going to crack his ribs (again) just from the way it pounded in his chest when she said his name, the way it rolled off of her tongue and sounded more interesting than he'd ever considered it to be. She lit up the air with her smile alone, the bright brown of her eyes mesmerizing.

"I like that you don't know everything," he said, "Means the show will be a bit of surprise for you,"

She nodded back like she understood him, about to tell him she was excited to watch him perform when he cut in first.

"Do you wanna come watch our set?" His words were rushed, maybe a little too obviously panicked at the thought of her not staying.

"Yeah," she nodded, "I think Ben was gonna' drag me along anyway,"

He scratched his nose and ruffled a hand back through his hair.

"Do you have a set?"

She nodded again, "Later in the day. Acoustics only though, for fuck sakes," she groaned, "Apparently I'm not cool and relevant enough to get a band and fully wired set. But don't you think that defeats the purpose of branching out?" her frustration and irritation was evident to Andy. He handed her the cigarette again.

"Baby steps," he suggested, "Maybe management wants to give you one of those soft opening kind of things?"

"Yeah," she sighed with a drag, "Don't make me feel no better about performing though. This is supposed to be my American debut, and they got me strumming my songs like lullabies to a bunch of metal heads in a tent,"

"I'm sure it can't be that bad,"

Taylor chuckled sinisterly, "Yeah. Ya' know the festival director, here? He has this assistant that does all the scheduling and booking shite for the shows. Scrawny little fuck with them big-rimmed glasses. You know what he said when he first laid eyes on me?" she said.

"Damn, what a babe?" Andy grinned.

She smiled faintly, but her eyes glimmered with cheery at his words, "Aw, fuck," she said.

"What?"

"That's what he said," she told him, "Aw, fuck. 'Cause I'm another trampy girl trying to be a rockstar,"

"He said that to you?" Andy asked in slight disbelief.

"Oh, he didn't have to. It was all over his bloody face," she said, "Me being new to the music scene probably doesn't help my case, either,"

The gentle smile on her lips was replaced by that of venom and anger, but it was well routed. Andy saw the frustration evident in her face; the way her mouth tightened and her eyes averted to the ground, her shoulders then became stiff and she exhaled slowly to release her vexation.

"Well, that's bullshit," he told her, "Shouldn't matter whether you're new or... what you got going on in your pants,"

"You know that, I know that -- half the bloody people here should know that," Taylor sighed, "The sad reality is that despite all of the success we've had, there's still this misogynistic notion that women aren't cut out for rock music,"

Andy scoffed as he dragged on his cigarette again, "Clearly, Thick-Rims is in the wrong business. Rock n' roll is supposed to be all about rebellion," he said.

"That's your interpretation," Taylor pointed out, "I find rock music is about sex,"

Andy stopped suddenly as she jumped onto another rail, dug just outside another smaller stage that was slowly being constructed by roadies. He was taken aback by her answer at first, but maybe that was because he too for a moment had fallen into the stereotype that this girl was sweet and polite.s.

Taylor sat on the ledge of the rail with her legs swinging back and forth, looking up at Andy with those big, curious brown eyes of hers. Those eyes were studying him, waiting patiently for what answer he would give her.

"Sex?" he repeated, standing just level to her now that she sat higher. Taylor nodded with enthusiasm.

"Think about it," Taylor placed her hands out before her, fingers extended yet rigid to make her point, "Sex is passion; rebellion, as you've pointed out. It's dirty and gritty and almost always ends with a climactic bang -- or an STD," he last comment made Andy chuckle.

"Rock stars have typically embodied the bad boy image -- someone who could fuck up your life in the best ways so that when you're old and folly you hear those songs and you're instantly transported to the wildest rock concert you've ever been to. Because you weren't thinking it out, you were lost in the intense emotions,"

With those words, she snatched the cigarette from his hand and brought it to her berry pink lips. Andy was intrigued by the words, noting the way her eyes sparkled to match the enthusiasm in her voice. Nonetheless, she was a fascinating young girl.

"Sounds like a few of the close encounters I've had with past girlfriends," he grinned cheekily.

Taylor exhaled the smoke from her lips, letting the tantalizing smell of nicotine intermingled with her mint toothpaste waft just beneath Andy's nose, "Well, the best of anything is never planned, you just need the mania for it to go mad,"

[team-free-will-oneshots]

Beneath the Stars

Title: Beneath the Stars Request:   Hi I was wondering if you could do a sam x reader where they’re on a hunt and to stop the monster they have to burn the place they are down and the reader gets trapped in the building and maybe even under some debris and Sam has to rescue them like partly angst partly fluff I just love your writing and wanted to see how you would take this on thnx ❣️ - @supernatural-02 Pairing: Sam x Reader Warnings: fire?? some descriptions of injuries/pain?? some angst?? but with fluff as well. and maybe some mild swearing but i can’t really remember Word Count: 3,619

note: so this turned out a little longer than i expected, but i hope you like it! thank you so much for the request! also i’m super duper tired tonight so i won’t be completing any ship requests tonight - I’ll work on them tomorrow! :)

“So, get this - turns out O’Connor was cremated,” Sam declared, eyes glued to his laptop screen. You frowned, glancing up from your own research, whilst Dean scoffed in the corner.

“Great - what the hell is he attached to, then?” Dean muttered. “The dude was loaded, had estates all over the country - why is he here? Just sayin’, if I was a ghost, I wouldn’t be sticking around this piece of crap town if I could be in a mansion in LA.”

Sam rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair and loosening his tie. As he and Dean began to bicker, you turned back to your laptop, continuing your research of the history of the house in question. It wasn’t spectacular - an abandoned two storey in rural Kansas, home to businessman Ross O’Connor, who died in “suspicious circumstances” in his own bed in 2014, aged forty. He’d been the last known resident of the property, and all seemed well until a few months ago, when interest was displayed in gentrifying the area. Every real estate agent who took on the house turned up dead a few days later, and what little evidence the three of you had managed to collect pointed you in O’Connor’s direction.

Your eyes skimmed the page, burning and strained from the blue light. While Sam and Dean had been in their FBI getups procuring as much intel as they were able, you’d been in the motel researching every lead they sent you. Their voices faded into the background now, nothing but a faint irritation as the words on the screen seemed to melt together. Your head hurt, and you vaguely wondered if you’d remembered to eat today. Sighing, you pulled away from the screen, slamming the lid shut.

“I’ve got nothing,” you declared. “I’m hungry, I’m exhausted, my head’s killing me. How about we head to bed and pick this up tomorrow?” you suggested, and the boys sighed, nodding their assent. As Dean headed for the shower, you laid on your bed, pressing your hands over your eyes in an attempt to block out the glaring fluorescent light. Stars bounced across your vision from the pressure, sparkling blue and yellow and red as they danced over your closed eyelids, lighting up the darkness as your eyes complained against your fingers. You felt the bed dip and glanced up to see Sam sitting at its foot. He offered you a small smile, though his eyes were warm with concern.

“Hey, you okay?”

You sighed. “Fine. I just feel like I’ve hit a wall,” you muttered, and the corner of his mouth twitched in sympathy.

“We’ll get there - we always do,” he assured you, moving to lay down next to you. You nodded, curling into his side as his arm circled your waist.

“Yeah, I know, but… it’s not just with the case. This, hunting, it’s all just… what are we working towards, Sammy? It’s not like we’re ever gonna get rid of all the monsters, so… what’s even the point?” you mumbled. Sam sighed, kissing the top of your head.

“Yeah, I know. But… we’re helping people, Y/N. Once we finish this case, who knows how many lives we’ll have saved?” he asked.

“Sure, I guess… and then they’ll gentrify this place, up the real estate prices, then rich people will kick all the poor people out. How’s that for helping people?” you scoffed. “It doesn’t make sense - this O’Connor guy, wouldn’t he be all for that? Everything I’ve read about him makes him seem like a total dickwad who let money get to his head. I’m just not seeing any motive for preserving that stupid house,” you said, and Sam frowned.

“You’re right, it doesn’t make any sense,” he said slowly. “And what Dean said earlier… he’s got a point. What is there here that this guy is attached to? He only moved here a month before he died. Nothing in this case is making any sense. Maybe we’ve got it wrong,” he mused. You made a noise of discontent.

“Well, we can work that out in the morning,” you mumbled. “I’m exhausted.”

Sam smiled sympathetically, rubbing your back as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. You leaned into his warmth, his hard chest a far more appealing surface than the thin motel pillow. Your eyes fluttered as you struggled to keep them open, finding yourself focussing on the stars just visible through the tiny motel window. One thing had to be said for finding yourself in the middle of nowhere, even amidst the frustration of an unsolvable case - at least you could see the stars, see whole galaxies stretching across the sky, beautiful and glimmering and free. The stars faded into darkness as your eyes fell shut.

“Get some rest,” Sam urged, moving to run his fingers through your hair. “I love you,” he reminded you, and you smiled sleepily, burrowing your face into the crook of his neck and placing a soft kiss to the warm skin.

“Love you, too.”

---

It was barely 8 o’clock when Sam’s phone rang - another death. He sighed, alerting Dean as the two of them donned their FBI gear. You settled back in bed, computer in your lap as you continued to research. When Sam and Dean returned a few hours later, you glanced up hopefully, only to be met with downtrodden expressions and a heavy atmosphere that threatened to crush any flickers of hope you still held.

“No luck?” you asked, and Sam shook his head, shedding his jacket and collapsing next to you, glancing over your screen helplessly. You could smell the fresh air still clinging to his hair and clothes, taste the sweetness of the countryside on the breeze that crept inside when the door opened. His skin was flushed from the midday sun.

“Nope,” he affirmed. “How about on your end?”

You sighed. “Nothing.”

“Maybe we’re in over our heads,” Dean suggested glumly. “The amount of deaths must’ve dropped the place’s value by now - they’d be stupid to try and sell it now.”

“Dean!” Sam said sternly. “Those people - they had families, they deserve some kind of justice. Besides, someone might try to buy it in the fu-”

“Families…” you murmured, and Sam and Dean both glanced at you quizzically. You ignored them, brow creased and fingers hovering over your keyboard before you started typing frantically. Article after article arose, and you skimmed them quickly before searching past records. Slowly, the puzzle pieces fell into place. Sam and Dean’s trained their perplexed stares on you, but you hardly noticed - finally, it made sense!

“I’ve got it!” you declared. “Ross O’Connor - no record of him predates 1993. So, I did some digging… turns out, his name’s really Ross Miller. When he was nineteen he had a big blow up with his parents, moved out, even changed his name,” you informed them. Dean’s brow creased.

“So? What’s that have to do with the case?”

“I’m getting to that! So, I looked back at all the past owners of the house, and saw that the last owner before Ross was a woman named Carol Miller - must be his mother. House had been in her family since the fifties.”

Sam’s eyes lit up, and you kept talking. “Get this - Carol died of a heart attack, and six months later, her disowned son comes back into town and declares ownership of the house.”

“Okay… so, what, she left it to him in her will?”

You shook your head. “Nope - apparently, she left him out of her will entirely. He claimed he was forgotten, found himself a good lawyer, and must’ve had enough of a case to snag the old family home. I was right about what I said last night, about Ross being the kind of guy who’d want to make money out of the place. Looks like he was staying there while he helped sort out the finer details of a sales contract - he was the one who set up the plans to gentrify the area. But before it could go through…”

“He turns up dead under suspicious circumstances!” Sam finished, and you beamed, nodding.

“Yep! And wanna know the cherry on the cake? In an interview back in ‘08, Ross was asked about his family and said he and his parents had some disagreements over some property developments he’d proposed - I’m willing to bet that, as an aspiring young businessman, he saw the house might be of value and tried to get his mother to sell it-”

“Hence the blowout,” Sam murmured, and you nodded.

“So, what? His mum’s the spirit we’re looking for?” Dean demanded, and you nodded again.

“Yeah, I think so!”

“Great! Well, let’s just get to the cemetery and-”

“Yeah, that’s the thing - she was cremated too,” you said, eyes scanning your screen as you read the information to the boys. Dean groaned.

“Great. Perfect. So we’re in exactly the same place as before-”

“Not quite,” Sam objected. “Obviously the house was important to her - I wouldn’t be surprised if she was attached to it,” he remarked, and you nodded quickly.

“Exactly! So… what, we salt and burn the whole house?” you asked. Dean’s whole face brightened, and he closed his eyes, quietly pumping his fists in the air.

“Yes!” he hissed. “Flamethrower, here I come!”

---

“I can’t believe we’re actually committing arson,” you whispered, adrenaline levels high as the three of you snuck under the police tape and headed to the house, concealed beneath the cloak of night. It was almost two am, your only company the scattering of stars and the chirping of the crickets. Sam chuckled.

“Y/N, we’ve literally dug up graves and burned the bodies,” he reminded you.

“I know, I know, but this just feels different! Like, we’re literally burning down a house!” you exclaimed, and Sam chuckled again, the sound interrupting the sloshing in the gasoline can that was tight in his grip.

“I still can’t believe we’re not using the flamethrower,” Dean muttered, and Sam rolled his eyes as he picked the lock to the back door, ignoring his brother’s grumbling.

“Okay, she’s not going to go easy - everyone have iron bullets?” Sam checked as the door swung open. You nodded, hand finding the gun at your waist as you spread your fingers over the cold metal.

“Alright, let’s go,” Dean confirmed. “Y/N, you go to the attic, Sam, second floor, I’ll cover ground,” he said, reiterating the plan the three of you had established in the warm safety of the motel. The words sounded different now as the night’s chill bit at your skin and whipped at your face, stealing the whispers from your lips and swallowing them into the shadows.

The three of you slunk into the house - Dean began to scatter salt and gasoline as you and Sam headed upstairs. You finished the attic quickly, heading down to help Sam finish off the second floor. Once the house was saturated, you held the box of matches.

“Okay. You get out, I’ll light up the house as I go down,” you told him. Sam frowned.

“I’ll stay with you - just to be safe.”

You paused, but nodded. Couldn’t hurt. You lit the first match, and that was when the ghost appeared.

She charged towards you, screaming in anger and managing to throw you into the staircase. You cried out, losing your hold on the match as Sam shot her with an iron bullet. She disappeared, but you knew it wouldn’t be for long.

“Let’s go!” Sam yelled, helping you quickly to your feet as you lit a match and tossed it to the attic. It caught quickly, and you were halfway down the stairs when you tossed another lit match on the second floor. It, too, caught quickly. You were readying your third match when you got to the bottom of the stairs, only to find a wall of flames licking up the hardwood floors and heading rapidly towards you.

Shit - the match you dropped earlier. This was bad.

You saw Sam’s jaw tense and his body stiffen as he scanned the situation, calmly planning your escape. His hand found yours, and you let yourself breathe - mistake. Smoke choked your lungs and you coughed, lifting your shirt to hold against your nose. Sam was quick to copy you, dropping your hand as he did so.

“This way!” he said, shouting over the flames now - the floor above you was starting to collapse, smoke obscuring your surroundings as the flames crackled and ate at the walls, the roof, the floor, chewing through the furniture and quickly heading towards the exits. You nodded, following him as he weaved through the flames, eyes focused solely on the front door - the only exit left.

The windows to your left blew out, raining shards of boiling glass over the two of you. Some found your skin, and you swore as you shook it off, struggling to breathe even through the cloth of your shirt. Your hair was plastered to your scalp as sweat seemed to gush from your pores, and your eyes stung from sweat and smoke as you tried to keep up with Sam. But your boyfriend had long legs and a clear eye on the exit, while the smoke billowed over your head and blocked out most of your vision. You could feel yourself getting lightheaded, and when the edge of your jacket caught aflame, the few seconds it took for you to stamp it out were enough for you to lose sight of the youngest Winchester amongst the chaos.

“Sam!” you cried, choking on the smoke that snaked into your lungs. You coughed hard enough that you fell to your knees and retched, blindly screaming for his help, for Dean’s, for anyone.

That was when the ghost appeared - she was burning up, but while the house still stood, so did she. Though her power was fading, her anger made up for it ten times over, and suddenly a beam from the roof was crashing to the ground - right on top of your leg.

You screamed as your calf snapped beneath you, collapsing to the ground as searing pain raged past your knee and up your thigh. The flames greedily licked up your surroundings as the smoke continued to clog your lungs. You couldn’t breathe - you were choking and retching and your throat and nose burned with the acidity of vomit, and you were trapped.

You felt a rush of cool air, and you looked up - there was a gaping hole in the flaming roof, and amidst the blaze, you caught sight of the night sky, a glimpse of navy amongst the orange inferno. The flames leapt into the blackness, and you half expected them to burn it away, to watch the sky fold in and crumple like a burning piece of paper. But it stood steady, and as your vision began to fade and your lungs relinquish their fight, you couldn’t help but think how beautiful the stars were tonight.

-----

Sam was already outside when he realised he was alone.

He collapsed onto the grass, pressing his hot, sweaty face against the cool as he panted, gulping lungfuls of fresh air.

“We made it!” he cried. “Y/N, we-”

He paused, forcing himself to turn around. “Y/N?”

His stomach dropped as he saw the empty space behind him, and watched the building go up in flames.

“Sammy!” Dean’s voice rang through the air, and he appeared from the other side of the building, coughing and covered in ash. “Are you hurt? Where’s Y/N?”

“They-they were right behind me!” Sam stammered, and before Dean could stop him, he was back on his feet and sprinting into the burning building, Dean’s shouts echoing behind him. The smoke was worse up high now, but he still managed to pick his way through the burning debris, heart pounding against his ribcage as he held his shirt - drenched with sweat - over his face.

“Y/N!” he screamed, his heart almost giving out as he caught sight of you, unconscious and trapped under a fallen beam, leg splayed awkwardly beneath it. “Y/N!”

---

The stars were beautiful tonight. Beautiful, glimmering, free. You danced among them, enveloped in their warm glow as they swam playfully around you. They chased you, gleaming and laughing, and the more you ran, the warmer you became. You fell - you could feel yourself sweating, and suddenly you were gasping for air.

And then the stars were falling. You could feel them landing on your skin, like cool, tiny droplets that warmed too quickly in the thick air. Their laughter turned to screams and you felt them smother your face with something hot and damp. Your leg seared with pain, and as the stars fell away, your eyes fluttered open.

“Y/N!” Sam was screaming, voice rapidly coming into focus, and suddenly your whimsical imaginings were just that. The stars falling on your skin were none other than Sam’s tears, or sweat, or a combination of the two. You coughed, realising that Sam had ripped your sooty, sweaty shirt and was holding it over your mouth as he held up his own shirt with his free hand. “Y/N, thank god!” he yelled. “Come on, let’s get you out!”

You could see his muscles strain as he struggled to lift the heavy beam that had trapped you beneath its weight, but he could barely lift it a centimetre off the ground. Your head swam and your chest was tight, but it was a little easier to breathe lying down, close to the floor - probably the only reason you weren’t dead quite yet.

“Sam, it’s no use!” you managed to choke. “Get out of here!”

“No, nonono!” Sam yelled, grunting as he used all his weight to try and shove the beam away from you. It began to give, and you screamed as it’s movement tugged on your broken leg.

“Sammy, you have to go!” you cried, but your words were drowned out by his angry shouts and the roaring of the flames. The beam moved again, and suddenly Sam’s arms were looping around you and lifting you up against his chest. Your leg screamed in protest, and your eyes rolled back into your skull.

---

“They’ll be alright,” a gravelly voice murmured. “I’ve healed the worst of their wounds - but they must rest.”

“Thank you, Cas.” You recognised Sam’s voice, laced with stress and gratitude as it mellowed into a sigh. You felt a hand on your forehead, fingers brushing the hair from your face, and slowly, you blinked.

“Y/N!” Sam exclaimed, voice heavy with relief. “How do you feel? Are you okay?”

You swallowed tentatively. Your throat was raw, and you weren’t sure your nose would ever be free of the stench of smoke, but you found yourself nodding.

“You-you idiot,” you managed to cough, forcing yourself into a sitting position despite Sam’s frantic protests. “You should’ve left me! You could’ve died!”

Sam chuckled dryly. “I’d never leave you - not to that,” he told you, his thumb running gently over your cheek. You leaned into his touch, closing your eyes and holding his hand to your face.

“Yeah, well, you’re still an idiot,” you grumbled, and he laughed, genuinely this time, as he kissed your forehead.

“That’s fine by me,” he managed, and you found yourself smiling despite yourself. You pulled away and saw that your hands and clothes were covered in soot and ash, and still sticky with sweat. The motel bed beneath you creaked when you moved, and the blankets were hot over your legs. You kicked them off, marvelling as you realised your leg was healed. You knew of Castiel’s abilities, but when he used them to heal you, it was always disconcerting - injured one minute, completely fine the next.

“You shouldn’t have gone back,” you murmured again, wincing as you saw the traces of a burn peeking out beneath Sam’s sleeve. It was baby pink with tender new skin, still soft and delicate. Cas’s mojo wasn’t what it used to be - but even so, it had saved your life. And probably Sam’s, as well, if he’d inhaled half as much smoke as you had.

“Of course I went back,” Sam whispered, leaning his forehead against yours. You saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed, licking his dry, cracking lips still covered in ash as he hesitated, his next words catching in his throat. “When I was in the cage… one of Lucifer’s favourite torture devices was fire. It was the worst- worst pain I’ve ever felt. I could never let that happen to you,” he said thickly. You managed a sympathetic half smile - even after all these years, Sam’s time in the cage still haunted him. He didn’t like to talk about it, so the fact that he did now was enough for you to drop your guard.

Your hand found his, and you squeezed it lightly.

“Well… you saved me,” you whispered, your lips grazing his cheek. He crawled in the bed next to you, his arms circling your waist and holding you close to his body. You nuzzled into his chest as he squeezed you almost uncomfortably close, but you didn’t dream of complaining.

When you finally pulled away, you found yourself distracted once more by the stars. Not the ones behind your closed eyes, nor the ones set into the night sky, still visible through the tiny window. No, not those, not this time.

Sam smiled, a breathless smile so full of relief and of love, and as your gaze met his…

You found the stars in his eyes.

__________

Forever Tags: @babygirloreo @calaofnoldor  @stealingheartsswift13 @lmpala97 @sebastianshoe @81mysteriouslyme @castieliswatchingoverme

Sam tags: @sammys-dimpless

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[shy-marker-pliers]

The Adventures of Eric Derekson Chapter 9 | Nightmares

Relationship: Heric

Warnings: physical abuse from a parent, crying, nightmares (obvi)

Taglist:  @ericdereksonprotectionsquad @random-awkward-person @salty-sadness22 @allidrawsstuff @weretiger19 @jackthekit-kat @cute-anxious-kitten @i-am-a-losercorn @skepticeye @muntiller @djpaige13paige @mysepticheartfan1 @bashfulmusician @mayelamker @russellhowell @little-frying-pan @friendlyphantom @mutechild @supreme-meme-machine @caori-azarath @lamiasluck

“You’re useless.”

“you’re worthless.”

“I wish you’d never been born.”

“You should have died instead of your brothers.”

Eric couldn’t see. the world around him was dark, and he couldn’t tell if it was just the room or if he had gone blind. Not that it was his main concern right now.

Derek’s voice was all around him, booming, yelling. he covered his ears, but the voice seemed to find its way into his head, even louder than before. He was screaming and screaming and all Eric wanted was for it to stop-

Suddenly, he was in his room. All was quiet, except for the sound of his breathing. He nearly sobbed in relief, but then...

There Derek was, standing in his room just like he had been weeks ago. All Eric remembered after that was pain. His father was hitting him and screaming and god Eric just wanted it to be over. he wanted it to stop hurting, he wanted to get away, he wanted to die-

Thump.

Eric fell onto his bedroom floor, tangled up in his blankets with the salty taste of tears on his lips. Then he was sobbing, unsure if it was from fear, relief, or a mixture of the two. He carefully freed himself from his blankets and stood up on shaking legs, taking a few deep breaths to calm himself.

After Eric had used a tissue to dry his remaining tears and washed his face with some cool water, he went to the place he always did whenever he had a nightmare.

The Host’s library.

Checking the clock, he saw that it was about 2 AM, which meant that he would be finishing up his radio show right about now. He had told Eric that he was welcome in the library anytime, but he still knocked. Being polite was important after all.

He heard the sound of static, then a click of a machine being switched off.

“Enter.”

He carefully pushed open the large oak doors that gave way to the library. “H-Hey Host. ‘s me.”

Host rounded the corner. His usual getup of a trenchcoat, collared shirt and dress pants was abandoned in favor of a large grey sweater and pajama pants that had little blue stars on them.

“The Host had a feeling Eric would be coming tonight, so he dressed accordingly.”

Eric blushed. The Host never let himself be seen in anything but his normal outfit. To be honest, Eric didn’t think he even had any other clothes until that moment. And yet, here he was.

“O-Oh, you didn’t have to do that...I mean, i-if you wanted to that’s okay! And i’m not saying you look bad, you l-look really good- er, not that you don’t look good normally! You a-always look good, I just- (Shut up Eric, you’re blowing it!) ...you look different, is all. A good different.”

The Host put a hand over his mouth to hide a small laugh.

“The Host understands what Eric means. He thanks him for the compliment.”

“y-you’re welcome...anyways, i’m guessing since you knew I was coming you know w-why i’m here too.”

Host’s expression turned solemn as he nodded and wrapped an arm around Eric’s shoulders.

“Come on, Eric needs to get some rest. it’s only 2 in the morning, after all.”

The Host was warm as always, and Eric found himself snuggling into his side. His tiredness hit him like a tidal wave, and he let out a big yawn, stumbling a bit. Host smiled softly and picked Eric up, carrying him to the big leather couch in the center of the library.

“The Host apologizes for the clutter.”

Eric chuckled. “You always say that. Don’t worry ‘bout it, it makes it more homey.”

Host set Eric down. “Tea?”

“Not tonight, thanks.”

“Sleep it is, then.”

Host laid down on the couch first, stretching out similarly to how a cat would. Then came Eric, curling up on his chest and wrapping his arms around his middle. finally, Host pulled a blanket over the two of them and rested a hand on Eric’s curly black hair, combing his fingers through it absently. The other sighed, leaning into The Host’s touch.

After a few minutes, Eric asked in a small voice, “Host? C-Can you tell me a story? My mama used to do that whenever I couldn’t sleep. i-it helps. Being able to hear someone else’s voice, I mean.”

“The Host doesn’t see why not, It is his job after all. Is there any story in particular Eric would like to hear?”

“I dunno, something nice. A h-happy story.”

“Alright, give The Host a moment to think.”

He was silent for a few seconds before he began to speak.

“Once, there was a giant named Simon. He lived all alone in a huge forest with only the wild animals to keep him company. Though he had clothes, shelter, lakes to swim in and enough food and water to last him forever, he wasn’t content. In fact, he was very lonely. After all, what good is a paradise when there is no one to share it with?

“So one day, Simon decided to go into town. For the first time, he left his forest and ventured out into civilization. But when he got there, the people all ran for their lives. They all thought that he would kill them, or destroy their village. Though Simon was big enough to crush their houses with a few steps, that didn’t mean he wanted to. In fact, all he wanted in life was a friend, someone to help his forest home feel less lonely. He looked all around, but all the villagers had hidden, and he certainly didn’t want to take one of them away if they didn’t want to go. So he went back to his forest.

“Simon cried enough tears to fill a lake that night. He sat on the ground, not wanting to go anywhere or do anything. The wild animals were worried for him, but when they came to try and help him feel better, he just ignored them.

“Later that day, he heard yelling. it was two men, The bigger one chasing the smaller and calling him things like ‘street rat’ and ‘dirty theif.’ he was carrying a loaf of bread and some fruit, and Simon guessed that he had no food at home. So he hid behind a tree, and when the men ran past, he scooped up the small one and scared the bigger one away. He thought that the smaller would run too, after the danger went away, but to his surprise, he stayed and thanked Simon for saving him.

“The man’s name was Charlie, and he had no home and no family to speak of. Simon offered to let him stay in the forest with him, and Charlie agreed. So the two became friends, and spent the rest of their days together in the forest. The end.”

Eric squeezed Host a bit tighter when the story was done. “That story’s about us, r-right?”

“The Host may have...drawn some inspiration from reality, yes.” He said with a small smile.

“I like that story. s’nice.”

“The Host is glad Eric thinks so.”

Eric was about to say something else, but was interrupted by a huge yawn. Host ruffled his hair.

“Eric needs to get some sleep. It’s far too late for him to be up.”

“okay. g’night, Host.”

...—...

Host didn’t have an alarm clock because he found that he woke up at about the same time every day anyway, but Eric needed one if he wanted to wake up anytime before 10. So when The Host woke at the usual time and Eric was still sleeping, hugging him like a giant teddy bear, he had no choice but to wake him up. He gently shook his shoulder.

“Eric needs to wake up, it’s almost time for breakfast.”

Eric grumbled and smushed his face into Hosts stomach. “Nooooo...I don’ wanna get up, y-you’re warm...”

“The early bird catches the worm.”

“I don’t want w-worms, I want sleep and hugs.”

Host sat up, causing Eric to have to do the same.

“Whyyyy?”

“Because Wilford is making french toast, and The Host will die before he misses Wilford’s french toast.”

The Host stood up and disappeared for a few minutes before coming back wearing his usual clothes. Eric was still in his pajamas and his hair was a mess, but he had put on his glasses. Host put his arm around Eric and steered him towards the kitchen.

“I don’t see why I couldn’t have gotten a few more minutes of sleep.”

“French toast waits for no man, dear.” The name slipped out before Host had the chance to stop himself. He froze, but to his relief the only reaction he got from Eric was a smile and a slight blush. The two continued on their way to the kitchen.

Eric wasn’t sure what he would call him and Host. Great friends definitely, maybe even best friends, but neither of them had made a move to make it anything more than that. Though they were much more affectionate towards each other than they were with anyone else, neither of them had said anything about it. If Eric weren’t so anxious he would have, but that obviously wasn’t the case. So friends they stayed.

Eric liked The Host. Of course he did, or else he wouldn’t have spent almost all of his time with him. If he didn’t like Host, he wouldn’t come to him whenever he had nightmares, he wouldn’t talk with him for hours, and he definitely wouldn’t be thinking about how strong he was, or his laugh, or that lopsided smile of his, or his perfect voice, or how damn gorgeous he had looked in that sweater the previous night-

Eric needed to stop before he turned into a living tomato. At the moment, he and Host were friends. Nothing more, nothing less. And that was enough.

For now.

[365daysofsasuhina]

[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day One Hundred Fifty-Eight: In A Garden ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata, Uzumaki Naruto, Tenten ] [ SasuHina ] [ Verse: Best Years of Your Life ] [ AO3 Link ]

“...you’re kidding, right?”

“Nope.”

“...but...why?”

“Cuz it’s fun, dude!”

Sasuke deadpans. “...dressing up in costumes and acting, in real time...is fun.”

“Yeah! LARPing is amazing! A few friends of mine from my old school were into it when we were kids! And since I’ve been getting back into contact with ‘em, I asked if they still did it? And they do! And we are totally going to a session and -”

“No.”

“But -!”

“That is the dorkiest thing I’ve ever heard of. I wouldn’t be caught dead doing that.”

“But Sasuke -” Naruto begs, curling fists under his chin. “I told everybody we’d be there!”

“You need to stop making promises on my behalf, Naruto.”

“C’mon, man! You tellin’ me you’ve never wanted to be, like...a badass knight? Or...or a mage? You never played games like that?”

“Yeah. Games. Where I sit and be myself, playing a game. I’ve never thought I should become the game.”

“Dude...do you know anything about cosplay?”

“...yeah. I do.”

“Y’ever looked at some really hot cosplay girls?”

A light tint of pink colors the Uchiha’s face. “...I’ve seen them, yeah.”

“Well, it’s like that...only they actually stay in character. And you get to interact with them, in character! And you can have battles, and sit in a tavern, and look awesome! I promise you’ll have fun. And like I said, it’s mostly people from my old school! You wouldn’t even know anyone there to be all embarrassed in front of!” Naruto nudges him in the ribs. “We’ll get you looking awesome, and they’ll just be impressed!”

Sasuke heaves a long sigh, staring at his friend skeptically. “...and what, pray tell, did you have in mind for me to wear?”

Sensing he’s convinced him, Naruto gives a wide, devious smile. “Oh, I think you’re gonna like it…!”

The event, as it turns out, is being hosted in a large park across town. Good, Sasuke can’t help but think. Fewer chances of being spotted by someone he knows.

Because while he’ll never admit it...he does look awesome. But...that also plays against him for looking like he’s taking this seriously.

Donning a thief build getup, his scheme is black and a midnight blue, with highlights of silver. It’s actually made of leather, for the most part. The armor, at least. He’s got boots, trousers, a tunic...and his armor. A chest plate, bracers, shin guards...the whole works.

And he hates that Naruto was right. Though he tried to resist...the more he looked at himself in the mirror...the more he thought he actually looked...really cool. And he can totally pull off a thief character.

Otherwise, he’s just a human - no pointy elf ears or orc makeup. That...would be taking it  a little far, in his opinion. Wielding a foam dagger, he only has a scar painted over an eye.

You know, just to add to the badass image.

Getting out of Naruto’s car, they soon see the ruckus. A fair number of people - more than Sasuke expects - are out in the grass. A gazebo seems to be a make-believe tavern, coolers of drinks (non-alcoholic - they’re still minors, after all) and food are made up to look like chests. There’s a fair amount of variety in the costumes - both in terms of characters, and of skill level. And no one seems to be ripping on each other. They’re just...having fun. A few people spar with their false weapons...others sit and talk with tankards. One guy even looks to be selling potions...which are just funny colored water.

“Sooo...whaddaya think?” Naruto asks, leaning against his friend to jostle him, wiggling his eyebrows.

“...looks like a nerdfest.”

“An AWESOME nerdfest!” the blond declares, lifting his broadsword. He, of course, is a knight...with armor Sasuke will admit is even more impressive than his own.

“So, where are all the girls?”

“Oh! I think Shikamaru said they were having a, uh...a photoshoot? In the gardens. If I had t’guess, they’re probably all there getting their pictures done before their hair or whatever gets messed up. Wanna go see?”

Sasuke goes pink. “...that won’t be weird?”

“Nah, we’ll just...get our pictures taken, too! It’ll be totally fine,” Naruto insists, waving a hand. “I really do wanna get pictures, though. I want this moment immortalized! Sasuke wearing LARP getup...I’m gonna show your kids.”

“Tch, whatever…”

They head up the hill to where the kept gardens of the park are grown. Sasuke’s been here a few times, but mostly when he was a lot younger. The park really isn’t his favorite haunt anymore. At least, not unless something is actually going on. While his mother used to take him and Itachi all the time in the Summer when they were kids...they’re both a little old for that now. Itachi’s in college, after all.

And, as Naruto said, there’s indeed a few photographers hanging around, snapping pictures of various roleplayers. Most of the ones up here are indeed girls. Barmaids, mages, princesses, knights...anything and everything, really.

“See? What did I tell ya? Aren’t they beautiful?” Naruto whispers, nudging Sasuke again. “Check them out!”

Grunting, Sasuke gives him a glance, not wanting to be...overtly obvious. Pretending to be watching the goings-on, he scopes out a few of them. They’re pretty, sure...but none really catch his eye too dramatically.

“Please, Hina?”

“I-I don’t know about this, Tenten…”

Glancing, Sasuke spies what looks like a weaponsmith talking to a girl in a long coat, which she clings closed with embarrassment.

“But you look awesome! It turned out so great! Shouldn’t you want everyone to see it?”

“I mean...I guess? I don’t know, it’s just...e-embarrassing…!”

“Dude, everyone here is in costume! No one’s gonna make fun of you! We’re all nerds here, right?”

“...r-right…”

“Besides, if anyone gives you trouble, I’ll knock ‘em one!” the one called Tenten assures her, drawing an oversized hammer from a belt at her hip.

Her companion smiles, gaze dropping as the current group moves out from in front of the camera.

“Next?”

“Ooh, us!” Naruto insists, tugging Sasuke forward with a yelp.

“Just you two?” a photographer clarifies.

“Uh...I guess. Unless anyone wants a group shot with us?”

“We’ll join in!”

Everyone looks over to Tenten, who hauls her friend forward by a hand. The other keeps her coat closed. “Got room for two more?”

“Yeah, sure!” Naruto quickly agrees.

“C’mon, Hina! You gotta take the coat off!”

Pink with embarrassment, the one called Hina pauses...then peels the garment aside.

Sasuke’s eyes go wide.

Donning fake elf ears, her hair is long and dark, straight as a blade to her tailbone. Pale lavender eyes match a few layers of her dress, which has several materials of various shades of purple. A delicate circlet with violet gems sits on her brow.

...wow...she looks like the real deal.

She’s beautiful…

“...oi, Sasuke. We gotta pose.”

Snapped back to the present, he blinks, realizing he’s...still in the garden. And everyone’s looking at him. Oh crap, was he staring that badly?!

“Sorry about him, he’s a little spacy sometimes,” Naruto snickers. “Thieves and their short attention spans, amirite? If it’s not shiny, he’s not paying attention!”

Scowling, Sasuke knows he’s trying to cover for him. “...better than starting all manner of brawls just to prove your chivalry, you dunce.”

“Ha! See? Such a kidder…”

...huh...this is actually...kinda fun.

The four of them pose for a few photos before they let someone else have a turn.

“So can we get copies of these?” Naruto asks one of the photographers.

“Yeah, they’ll be on our website.”

“...website?” Sasuke repeats. They’ll be online?!

“What, like anyone you know is gonna be looking at this kinda stuff, right?” the blond counters, pouting.

Likewise, Hinata goes pink. “Tenten...you didn’t say they’d be p-public…”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know!”

As their more...exuberant friends try to work out the details, Hinata and Sasuke are left to the side, glancing to each other. “...your costume is amazing,” he offers, trying to make conversation.

That gets her to perk up. “You...you think so? I made it myself!”

“What?! No way!”

“Mhm!”

“Oh...I just bought mine, I’m not...crafty or anything.”

She laughs softly into a hand. “That’s just fine. We all do this differently. I just...r-really like making clothes! Maybe I could make you something sometime, um…?”

“Oh, uh...Sasuke.”

“Hinata.”

“Okay guys, they’re gonna keep ours under a password! Apparently they do that for private shoots, and...they’re making an exception for us! So we can see them, but...no one without the magic word can.” Naruto gives two gloved thumbs-up.

“Oh, g-good,” Hinata sighs in relief.

“Yeah…”

“Now, onward! To the festivities! There’s battles to win and ale to drink!” the blond then announces, leading the charge back down to the belly of the park. Tenten follows with a cackling laugh, wielding her hammer.

“...well, I guess we’re hanging out?” Sasuke asks.

“I guess so,” Hinata laughs.

“...cool.”

                                                        .oOo. 

     ...this is really random xD I kinda wanted to do something else, buuut I don't have a dedicated verse for it (yet), so...maybe another time, lol      I've never done LARPing...I watched a few friends do it BRIEFLY, and uh...they were some of the very low budget kind xD Which is fine! But means in truth, I know very little about it, so...hopefully I didn't get anything wrong, lol!      ANYWAY, I'm FINALLY done with the ship week I was doing on Tumblr, and uh...oof, am I burnt out. I'm surprised I got this done, tbh ^^; So hopefully I'll be a bit more...prompt from now on. And a bit more wordy. Doing two daily writing things at once is uh...a bit much, lol      But anyway, that's all from me for tonight~ I'm very tired, so time to crash! Thanks for reading <3

[robobrainmurdermysterytheatre]

I started my raider boy and I’m preeeetttyy sure I know what I’m going to do so I don’t miss out on anything but I was thinking, how is this going to start? How do I start this so it complies with the big picture of where I want this to go? So I wrote a thing and it’s very silly but I like it. I’m going to cut it in the middle of the beginning so you don’t have a billion words on your dash, but if you wanna read it, enjoy!

One warning there is uhhh graphic descriptions of violence so if that’s not your thing steer clear. 

*

Pain. Bright. 

He was flat on his back on the ground. Even through his closed eyes he could tell wherever he was was absurdly bright. Every corner of his body ached. This seemed familiar. And he wasn't alone.

"Y'think this asshole has anything good on him?" a weathered voice came from near his feet.

A low, impressed whistle came from a second person near his head.

"He's got that."

"Where the fuck you think he got it? "

"Fuck if I know. There's supposed to be that vault up there, right?"

"Nah, he's not a vault boy he doesn't have the stupid getup"

"Probably killed a vaultie, even a lowlife scavver like this could take a vaultie. Take it."

The men cackled. He could discern three voices. Who are they? Who am...

"Check his pockets, too, fuckface, if you wanna score some jet from Wolfgang"

He laid still, breath held and eyes closed, trying to assess the situation. Two sets of footsteps were walking away. The third was probably still right there.

He felt a hand on his left arm. No time left to figure this out. His own hand shot out to grab it. He was on the other man in an instant, turning his arm at an unnatural angle until he heard a snap. The strangled cry from the injured man alerted the other two.

"What the motherfuck...?" The two men turned around in time to see what they thought was a corpse dig his thumbs into their friend's eyeballs and pop them out of his skull with a sickening thwuck. The assailant slammed the man's head down into the roadway, satisfied when he heard a crack.

"Oh hell no!" the larger of the remaining two shouted. He whipped his head toward them. One brandishing a knife and the other a tire iron. He scanned the body of the man who's life he had just taken. Unarmed. He stood to face the men, shoulders squared, scowl on his face. Fuck. I guess this how it ends. Scowl turned into sneer and he felt a joyless laugh creep out of him. The two men who were ready to attack now were slightly unnerved. He noticed and dialed up the crazy, twisting his face manically, baring his teeth. Tire iron man slowly lowered his weapon, eyes wide with confusion. His partner looked to him incredulously. Without word, both men unceremoniously turned and ran. 

A sinister laugh ebbed to an amused snicker. "Assholes," the victor spat, watching them run.

The man surveyed his surroundings. He was on a roadway, a couple husks of what were once sedans in front of him, the roadside littered with golden grasses and dead foliage. Collapsed telephone poles dotted the landscape. Down a ways was a crossroads and a diner. Everything looked eerily familiar but yet, somehow, not. Where am I? 

Who am I?

"Ha! Oh boy! Where did you learn that one, kid?" the voice of a lifetime smoker called brightly from somewhere beyond the roadside. The woman who meandered into view had the face of a lifetime smoker as well, framed by short-cropped brunette hair. "Saw the whole thing from up down road. Thanks for that, those raiders had been giving us trouble off and on for weeks." Her vibrant violet eyes shined with glee at the carnage she had witnessed. She stopped in front of the man and leaned in conspiratorially, "Nice to see someone make them piss their pants for a change," she offered, grinning. She didn't appear to be a threat, but something about her demeanor told him she could be if she needed to be. She also didn't appear to be threatened by him, lighting up a cigarette casually. He looked at his left arm, where the man, the raider, had grabbed him. There was a device there, strapped on like a wristwatch but huge, with knobs and dials and a screen... I wonder if this is what those guys were after?

The woman followed his gaze, and raised a brow. "So what's your story? You lookin' to trade? Directions to Diamond City? Or rob me?" the last bit felt like a challenge. One he wasn't interested in taking. But her question felt like a punch that sent his brain spiraling - I don't know. I don' t know who I am. I don't know where I am. I don't know what's happening, or what has happened...

But his mouth, fortunately or unfortunately, operated independent of his brain, "Just lookin' for love, sweetheart" he replied arching his eyebrow and pulling one corner of his mouth into a lopsided grin. He knew how stupid it sounded before it all even came out, but it was too late now. The woman shook her had, unimpressed, but chuckled "Boy, have you come to the wrong place! My lovin' days have long since passed. I'll tell ya what, stud muffin," the endearment dripped with biting sarcasm and punctuated by rolling her eyes, "you made an old girl smile, and that ain't easy so if you want to do some trading I'll give you a discount," she finished with a flash of a genuine smile. "What did you say your name was?" 

I don't know.

"Why, I thought you already knew, you called me by it!" He pulled both eyebrows up in feigned surprise, while the woman pulled hers down in quizzical response. "Stud muffin?" he offered in a reminding tone, grinning at her. "Oh for the love of!" she exclaimed rolling her eyes skyward once more. 

"You can just call me Muffin, though." he quipped, both amused at the situation and cautious of drawing her ire. As she opened her mouth to reply, shouts from down the road near the diner drew their attention. "Shit, gotta go, more of these assholes. It's not my fight!" She turned and strode hastily opposite of the commotion without another word leaving him in the road alone again with his thoughts.

[kmp78]

Obviously everyone and their brother wears Jared’s clothes.

***

Uh huh so basically the STAR of the documentary being heralded at the PGA simply can not get a tux anywhere but from JL´s closet?

Maybe... and I´m just spit-balling here so excuse me if my idea sounds totally ludicrous and out there.... but maybe.... there would be a market for a business that rents out tuxes and suits and ball gowns to people who don´t own such getups and don´t wanna buy an expensive outfit for just one night? 

Like... they could hand over money and get an outfit of their choice and then wear it for the night and then return it the next day? 

Could this work...? Did I just invent a new business model...?

Nah, probs sounds TOTALLY hare-brained nevermind y´all ignore me and carry on!

DISCLAIMER AND RULES

[officialleehadan]

Sanctuary Order

@gingerly-writing thanks for the awesome prompt!

+++

“You… what? How did your drink get spiked?” Evensteel asked, momentarily taken aback as he looked Nightbrace over. The villain was, now that he looked closer, listing badly to one side and was noticeably pale under his mask. They were enemies, all things considered. They had more than a dozen high profile fights between them, although admittedly there were a few team-ups in there too. “Are you… okay?”

“Not really,” Nightbrace said, uncomfortably honest, which was probably from whatever he was drugged with. He leaned on the wall beside him and left a handprint burned into the concrete. Evensteel would protest, but the loss of control was honestly concerning. “Tryin’ to- tryin’ to process it, get it to move though faster, but it’s not really workin’. You’re th’ only person I didn’t figure would- would do… something.”

He was getting less and less lucid the longer they talked, and Evensteel fought with himself. He should arrest Nightbrace while he had the chance. It was probably the only chance they would get to restrain him in a cell he couldn’t break out of.

On the other hand, it didn’t feel right to arrest someone who had been betrayed, drugged, and who sought out their enemy as the only decent person they knew.

“Coe on,” he decided, and got Nightbrace’s arm around his shoulders long enough to haul the woozy villain towards the elevator. He wasn’t in uniform, had been just getting off his day job, but Nightbrace was all in his leather getup, and they would attract attention. At least Nightbrace decided to ambush him in the parking garage of his own building. “Into the elevator.”

“Where’re you takin’ me?” Nightbrace asked, halfway unconscious, but trying to cooperate. He wasn’t doing very well, but Evensteel appreciated the effort anyway. “Not prison? Don’ wanna fight. M’control is… is crap righ’ now. Would hurt someone.”

“I’m taking you up to my apartment. Call it a truce for now, okay?”

“…kay.”

The ride up was quiet, and mercifully free of any other tenants. Evensteel didn’t want to explain why he was harboring a known supervillain, and he didn’t know how Nightbrace would handle people he didn’t know. At least he seemed to be trying to keep his Power under control. Evensteel had a power-suppression cuff in his pocket, a holdout for the times he had been attacked at work. It probably wasn’t powerful enough to actually hold Nightbrace, but it might help his shaky control.

“Hey,” he said when they reached his floor, and he helped Nightbrace out of the elevator. “Want your Power off for now?”

“Doesn’t turn off. You know that.”

‘I have a D-level suppressor handy. Won’t hold if you really try, but it should keep the little stuff under control.”

Evensteel had used it himself more than once. His own power, metal manipulation, tended to go haywire when he was sick. It was inconvenient to melt every wire in his house every time he sneezed. So, Power suppressor.

Nightbrace thought about it, or tried, until Evensteel got them into his apartment and bolted the door behind him.

“Yeah, okay.”

“Okay to the suppressor?”

“Yeah. Don’t wanna- wanna melt the building. Would be rude. Your apartment is nice.”

He was making less and less sense, which Evensteel figured was mostly the drugs talking. He deposited the loopy villain on his couch, got a glass of water form the kitchen, and returned. Nightbrace watched him with the air of a nervous cat. Evensteel offered him the water and sat on his coffee table to give the villain a more thorough once-over.

“Right,” he said when Nightbrace finished the water, and snapped the suppressing cuff around his wrist when Evensteel offered that next. “Who drugged you and what were you drugged with?”

“Voidcrusher. Thought we were… okay. Guess not,” Nightbrace said. He breathed a sigh of relief when the suppressor cuff kicked in, and relaxed minutely. “Don’t know what he slipped me. Don’t even know how he did it. M’drink was in my hand the whole time.”

“I don’t know Voidcrusher,” Evensteel told him and sighed. “Are you sober enough to change into something more comfortable?”

“…maybe?”

“Good enough. Come on. You can borrow some of my pajamas for the night. Probably more comfortable than your leathers.” He helped Nightbrace up and towards his small bathroom. Once the villain was seated on the edge of the tub, he left and returned with some clean sweats and an old band shirt. “Bang on the door if you need help.”

“Okay.”

He closed the door behind himself and took a moment to kick himself. He wasn’t usually stupid enough to bring villains home, but also… well, he couldn’t bring himself to turn Nightbrace in. Not like this. They were enemies, or at least rivals, but that didn’t mean… well, he wasn’t sure what it didn’t mean. Respect, maybe. Certainly Nightbrace had the chance to kill him during some of their fights, and never took the opportunity.

Maybe it was time to return the favor.

Evensteel went for his phone and dialed into the Hero’s Main Line. It was rare for any of them to call in. The Line wasn’t for casual use, but there were some things the whole community abided by.

“This is Evensteel,” he said when he heard the beep announced the line was connected. “Calling in to activate a Sanctuary order on Nightbrace. Location is my registered address. Time active is twenty-four hours, starting immediately.”

Sanctuary orders were a precaution that the Powered community didn’t like to talk about. Once in a while, one of their own, often across enemy lines, needed a safe place to recover, generally form injuries, but sometimes from a trauma. Anyone, on either side, could call into the Line and issue an order.

The issuer assumed all responsibility for any criminal act that happened during the Sanctuary, but that was generally unneeded. As long as the Sanctuary was in place, there could be no Powered arrests of the individuals named in the initial order, as long as they committed no crimes during the Sanctuary.

Evensteel had never used one before, but this seemed like the time. He didn’t want fallout from Nightbrace recovering in his apartment. A Sanctuary order was the safest option.

There was a moment of silence, and then an absolutely professional voice replied, “Activated. Any further orders?”

“No. Thank you.”

There was no reply except the faint sound of the line cutting out. When he turned, it was to see Nightbrace leaning in the door. He wasa good deal younger than Evensteel thought, and not nearly so intimidating out of his preferred spiky leather getup.

“You called in Sanctuary for me?” he asked, tousled and unsteady. Evensteel helped him to the couch and refilled his water. “Why?”

“We fight,” he tried to explain as Nightbrace drank his water and waited for an explanation. “But when we fight, it’s fair, and neither of us go for the kill. You’re not big on actually hurting civilians, yeah, I noticed that. This… this isn’t fair. Someone drugged you, and you came to me.”

“I don’ have anyone else,” Nightbrace muttered defensively. “You’re pretty much the only good person I know. Villain an’ all.”

“Right,” Evensteel said and determinedly didn’t think about how sad it was that he, Nightbrace’s enemy, was the only person Nightbrace trusted not to hurt him when he was drugged out of his mind. He snagged the blanket off the back of the couch so he could wrap it around the drugged-out villain on the couch. “Maybe we can talk about that when you’re sober, but for now, you’re gonna drink your water, I’m gonna make pasta, and we’re gonna watch crappy movies until you fall asleep. Sound good?”

“…Yeah, okay,” Nightbrace said when he manage dot get through everything Evensteel had said. He offered Evensteel a smile that looked like he wasn’t really sure how to do it. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now, any food allergies I should know about before I start cooking?” +++

More Stories!

+++

Prompt #2634

“Someone spiked my drink,” the villain slurred. “To take- take advantage o’ me. If you arrest me…yer just as bad.”

“What? That is not the same thing at all!”