#i feel like i've been getting better with rendering and fabric lately!

[acaiis]

a belated birthday piece for lan sizhui because I 1.) didn't realize until the 11th and 2.) had wilderness first aid training over the weekend which was like,, nine hours each day. so hopefully being a bit late is better than nothing! the juniors have stolen my heart and run off with it

[birgittesilverbae]

prompt: Camila + Shannon + Piano

The music begins hesitantly, a few notes turning to quiet scales. On the mats, Shannon leans forward over her knee, sinks into the stretch until the tension in her glute releases all at once. She holds the pose a moment longer before switching legs. 

The piano bench scrapes across the stone floor, followed closely by a rustle of fabric, a thud, a soft exhalation. Shannon presses deeply into her stretch, trying her best to see around the pillar that blocks her view of the piano.

Shannon slumps onto her back, starfished across the mat, but this position doesn't afford her any better a view, just flashes of navy. She knows it must be a member of the newest recruit class, though. It's been almost three years since they'd last had a pianist among their ranks. 

The thought pinches between her shoulder blades and she smacks a hand flat against the mat in protest. The twinges have grown more common of late, unsurprising given the tension she can't help but carry in her shoulders. No amount of stretching is enough to fully free her of aches, not when the weight of the Halo is their cause just as often as not. Not when the unease is almost all in her head.

Shannon flops onto her side, stretches her arm out to make an attempt at grabbing her hoodie. She's an inch short of the fabric, though, and has to squirm on the mat until her fingertips just manage to hook the edge of the hood. She reels it in towards her and rolls back up to a seated position, tugging the hoodie on before popping up to her feet. Her back cracks ominously at the rapidity of the motion, and she has to twist from side to side before it feels quite like it's fully supporting her again.

Her soft shoes render her footsteps all but silent, so she makes a show of yawning loudly as she crosses towards the piano. The pianist stiffens, her hands going still on the keys, and then glances back over her shoulder.

Shannon smiles softly as she closes the remainder of the distance to the piano. "Camila, right?" she asks, settling herself on the piano bench at the girl's side. 

Camila nods, matches the smile with one of her own. "That's me."

"I'm Shannon," she replies, and she watches amused as Camila seems to bury an urge to respond with something along the lines of "Clearly". "Don't stop on my account," she adds, knocking her elbow against Camila's arm.

"I hadn't seen anyone else use it, so I wasn't sure if I was allowed–" Camila starts.

Shannon cuts her off with a laugh. "Oh, you're very much allowed. We just haven't had anyone to play for us in a while."

"Is that why it's so out of tune?" Camila's nose crinkles in barely concealed distaste.

"It is?" Camila nods emphatically. The smile that pulls at the corners of Shannon's mouth feels unfamiliar. "Straight-shooter Cam telling it like it really is, hey?" Camila's cheeks darken slightly, and Shannon nudges her again. "I admire that. I'll ask Mother Superion to see if we can get it tuned up for you."

"You don't have to–"

"Oh, this is purely selfish. I can't pester you for concerts if your instrument's not up to snuff, can I?"

"I guess not."

"See, purely selfish intent. We're all in the mood for a melody around here, and you'll have us feelin' alright." 

A chuckle bursts out of Camila, seeming to surprise her, and then just as quickly her face falls. "Billy Joel is my mom's favourite," she admits, and there's a heavy weight to the words. But her face shifts again, rapid fire, a cheerful mask slipping back into place. "I learned to play Piano Man sitting on her knee."

They'll tackle that conversation later then, Shannon decides, mentally adding yet another sister to the parental baggage list. "And you? What's your favourite?"

Camila glances back over her shoulder before leaning in conspiratorially. "I really like covering Frank Ocean," she admits, catching the tip of her tongue between her teeth when she grins. 

"I don't think I've heard of him."

"No? Let's rectify that!" Camila shoos Shannon down to the very edge of the piano bench and settles her hands on the keys. "This one's called Pink + White." 

And she begins to play.

[miss-kittys-magical-library]

Last Christmas

Words: 2900

Warnings: Here we see the smut chapter. Fluff and smut.

A/N: again thanks to my homies @joz-stankovich and @robertsheehanownsmyass for encouragement!! Tag list: @magic-multicolored-miracle @elliethesuperfruitlover @super-unpredictable98​ @bisexualnathanyoung

Chapter 3- White Christmas

Violet unlocked her door and dropped a handful of bags in the foyer. The mistletoe and pine still softly twinkling where Nathan left it made her flush at the memory of their kiss. She shook it off as she struggled to drag in a large heavy duffle bag she collected from the casino.

“Hey, Seamus Finnegan!” she gave a shout and smiled to herself. “Come help me with your shit! Also you've got eight hundred messages on your phone.” Violet finally faced her apartment and gasped. Nathan had decorated while she was out.

White lights trimmed the door to her balcony. The island where they ate earlier shared a similar style to the one above her front door: Pine and some bows and lights scattered throughout. There was a six foot pine tree in the corner by her television showered with white lights as well (in fact all the lights Nathan used were white. Some twinkled, some were stagnate). There were ornaments of every shade of purple, flowers and silver tinsel littered the tree, and again the pine around the wood of the table her tv sat on. Any bow used was a deep purple with silver trim.

“Oh, Nathan.”

That's all Violet could whisper as she ran her hands along the bough that lined the kitchen island. She knew in her heart he would open his mouth and ruin the feeling of contentment and she had right now. Something witty or obscene, so she kept quiet and allowed it all to soak in.

Making her way to the Christmas tree, Violet reached out to touch everything. It was real, solid. Nathan made all of these with his.. magic? She couldn't believe that’s what it was. Magic. He was magical.

His face certainly is magical, too she thought to herself. Cheeks hot as the sensation of his tongue in her mouth flooded her memory. It's been so long, Vi. What would it hurt?

Except it wasn't just about wanting to sleep with Nathan. He challenged her with his smart mouth. Always tacking on a statement that would get him the most attention. That he couldn't just say anything nice or complimentary without sexual or sarcastic wit sprinkled in. But he was vulnerable with Violet when he was still locked up and just last night as he lay dying in her arms. When Nathan trusted someone his walls came crashing down.

And he could be selfish, but so far he used his powers for others. The money he tried to steal to give Marnie and someone else’s baby a better life. Violet knew the young mother didn't steal the poker chip, Nathan gave it to her and told her to take off so she wouldn't get caught up in his mess. The decorations and breakfast this morning, carrying her to the couch instead of leaving her on the floor. That asshole’s tongue at the club. Even trying to comfort Violet as a knife stuck out of HIS chest.

And Violet assumed he drove everyone insane, himself included. Yet he survived. Or found a way. He survived being homeless and whatever went on in London after that storm that affected him and his friends (She googled it, would bring them up later). He even survived prison; for a guy like Nathan that was impressive.

Violet liked some of her clients. She even struck up friendships with the better of them. ACTUAL friendships where they called and hung out whenever her schedule allowed. But this was a tiny seed planted in her heart that started to grow and blossom like the flowers on her Christmas tree. They weren't supposed to see each other ever again, and Violet would be able to uproot her feelings for the flirtatious Irishman and throw them away.

Except he was in her apartment, occupying more than just physical space. With his stupid green eyes and even dumber way he laughed loudly at all of his own jokes before anyone else could. Let's not even start on his stupid, handsome face caught between boyish and a man like puberty couldn't make up it's mind during Nathan’s late teen years and just decided to linger into his twenties. Or his weird body with the baby Bambi spindly legs but muscular arms (with dumb scene kid tattoos) and that chest she touched. With all that death she figured he would be cold, but he was human. Hot blooded, warm-skinned human.

God dammit, Duval. You can't do this. He's probably just doing what he does best when it comes to you. Surviving until he gets home to London. Plus, he's like, way too young for you.

Her sisters were gonna have a field day with this tomorrow at dinner. Would Nathan even want to go with her? She was so lost in her thoughts, that she only just noticed the flowers decorating her tree were her namesake, violets.

Somewhere far behind, Nathan cleared his throat. Violet still jumped, plucking a flower off as she did. “Hope you don't mind I jazzed up the place. Rather boring for a bird like you,” he said with a devilish grin. “I wasn't sure what ye liked. I closed my eyes and t’ought of you and all this happened.” He swept his hand around the room.

“It's rather thoughtful for you.”

“Don't you mean thoughtful OF me?”

“No I definitely meant FOR you” Violet challenged.

For only the second time since they met, Nathan was rendered speechless.. Mouth agape, thick eyebrow furrowed in confusion as he grappled for a comeback and failed. It was only when Violet looked at him struggling that she understood what was going on with her guest as he casually lounged against the wall.

Nathan was wearing one of her sheets wrapped around his lithe body in a makeshift toga. A tinfoil halo laid crookedly on his shaggy head. Violet also took notice of the outline of his member under the sheet. She couldn't help but gawk knowing he was naked. He didn't bother with the wings, as if he was “angel” enough for what he thought he was doing.

Violet laughed out loud and covered her mouth to hide mirthful giggles. Tears sprang to her eyes, and at one point she felt out of breath. Nathan, meanwhile, had a crimson climb up over his face. His eyes betrayed that for once maybe there was some sort of embarrassment going on. He crossed his arms self-consciously and rolled his eyes.

“Are ye done having a laugh?!” just a smidge of hurt in his voice. “Last time turn myself inta a sexy angel!” Nathan jerked his hips and sneered.

“You look so cute! You halo did me in! Be honest,” Violet pursed her lips to express another giggle, “What are you doing?” She could feel the answer before he said it.

Nathan waltzed over to just a few feet from Violet. He ran a hand down the length of his body with mischief in his eyes, “Who me? I go on top, love.”

“Not if I have a say in it.”

Nathan’s mouth hung open in disbelief. “What if I get there first?”

“I've got way more experience than you do. And I always come out on top.”

There was electricity in the air.

“Key word being come,” Nathan’s voice came out sleepier than usual.

His eyes drifted from Violet’s down to her mouth then back up as he teeth bit his entire bottom lip. If that was meant to be seductive it worked.

Violet felt out of her body when she clung to the back of Nathan’s neck so she could bring his mouth down to hers. Their tongues doing battle as she got her fingers wrapped up in the back of his head. Nathan’s strong hands on the curve of her waist so that he could bring her lower half onto the bulge under the sheet. She moaned unintentionally into his mouth.

Nathan was a little aggressive the way he almost choked Violet with his tongue. She bit into it between playful and defensive causing him to back off. Only breaking the kiss to remove her shirt. Their bodies molded together again as they made out in the living room.,

His hands kept flitting over her body in quick succession like he couldn't decide between her shoulder blades or her ass. Making up his mind instead to start fumbling around with the clasp of her bra. To Violet’s delight and surprise he managed to unhook the thing and helped her slide it off.

In a whirlwind Nathan picked Violet up so that she could wrap her long legs around his thin body. Violet took note that he was stronger than he looked as they stumbled through the hall. Tongues at war again while Nathan crashed Violet into a wall where he devoured one of her breasts.

“Ow,” she winced but giggled into his mouth. Her nails deep into the skin of his shoulders and neck for balance.

“Not sorry,” Nathan mumbled.

He bit at a nipple harshly before sucking on it and repeated this back and forth. Growling into her chest with his face inside her cleavage. Violet laughed louder than she meant to at the absurdity.

“OI!” Nathan cried, but joined in the laughter this time.

Now they lumbered towards the bedroom, Violet tugged on his hair and cried out as his tongue flicked and devoured her nipples softer than before. Once inside, Nathan literally threw Violet back on to her bed towards the pillows.

“What the fuck?!” Her face hurt from smiling and laughter. Afraid of what might happen to her expensive Versace panties, she took them off before Nathan could tear into the fabric himself.

Violet bit her finger, her skin goose-pimpled in the cold air of her apartment. Her patience began to grow somewhat thin even as her sex started to pulsate at the sight of Nathan’s erection under the toga he fought with.

“Do you want help?” she offered.

Nathan waved her off and it fell to the floor. His cock surprised her with the still attached foreskin strained against the head. Then she remembered most European guys were still intact.

Violet's view was mostly a short one because Nathan crawled across the bed towards her. That Lord of Chaos shit eating grin from ear to ear as he palmed her knees. He spread them till they touched the sheets. He sucked on her collarbone and pumped a finger or two deep inside Violet. The palm of his hand meeting her sex causing her to buck unexpectedly while he repeated himself a few times. Her actions only encouraged him to keep going

“Where did you learn any of this foreplay? Porn? Trial and error? Juvenile girls with low standards?”

“D. All of the above.” He groaned into Violet’s neck. Fingers still gliding in and out of her.

“Have you ever been with an older woman?”

Nathan startled Violet by staring at her all of a sudden. “How old is older woman?”

Violet grimaced, “Nope. Nevermind.”

Before long, Nathan stopped using his hand and all too hastily started to lap at Violet. His tongue swift and sloppy over her sex not even bothering to find her clit. Rapidly he licked at her slit like she was an ice cream he tried to eat before it melted. It wasn't unpleasant but it wasn't exactly getting her off.

“Nathan?” she cried out the question. “NATHAN!” louder.

He raised his head, mouth glossed with her wetness. “Ahyep?” His eyes heavy with desire.

“This is oral sex, Lucky Charms. Not a fucking pie eating contest. Slow down and put your mouth here,” she brushed fingers over the top of her sex and spread it enough to show him her clit.

Nathan’s eyes widened and followed her finger to the bud of nerves she all but pointed at. “So that's what it looks like,” he marveled.

Violet glanced heavenwards but a part of her felt bad. “I'm being serious, has no woman EVER told you how to get her off?”

Nathan littered her thighs with kisses from the knee towards her pelvis. Making his way up the other to the opposite knee. He smiled at the way Violet’s body arched into the sensation. “Nah. Usually get a quick toss in then never see ‘em again. Marnie was my first missus.”

“Well then just use the tip of your tongue and make small circles.” Her breath caught when Nathan obeyed. “You can suck on.. Like. Fuck,” her hips writhed under his mouth “and just..” she mewled and lost concentration.

He caught on quickly. The rhythm of his tongue matched the way Violet rocked herself into mouth. More and more rapid he worked his tongue between circles and sucking. His actions and her wrapped up in a cycle of give and receiving

Violet vibrated. One hand clawed at Nathan’s neck. The other clutched the headboard as she felt electricity course through her. She bent forward at the power of her unexpected orgasm. The hood of her sex contracted around his tongue, liquified, she screamed his name.

Nathan pushed himself up and laid down on top of Violet before she could get her bearings. His tongue deep inside her mouth again as the head of his cock twitched and poked at her cunt.

“Na-Nathan, what are you doing?” she managed to catch her breath.

“Getting a toss in. Ye had yours, now it’s time t’give us a go. Right?” he teased her with the head slick already with his pre-cum.

“Not without a condom you don't.” Violet wedged her hands between her chest and Nathan’s to push him away. She searched around in her nightstand drawer, hyper-aware of the immaculate knife placed back inside. A flash of his dead body, but she held up a condom instead.

A kiss puckered on lips that fell. “A what?”

“You don't have condoms in Europe?” her eyebrow curved.

“Well sure but I've never used one.”

Nathan was so matter of fact it took Violet by surprise. Still, he took the package from her, hesitating to open it. He was rather tentative about what was inside.

“You've got to be fucking joking,” Violet took the rubber from him in haste and rolled her eyes. “I don't know where your dick has been.”

Nathan kneeled over her legs, his cock at perfect attention. “Aw COME ON!” he whined. “They're mostly clean council estate girls! Once there was one of those Thai ladyboys,” he stroked his chin, “but I didn't even realize my cock wasn't in a fanny”

“Fuck me.”

“I'M TRYING, SWEETHEART!! NO ONE’S EVER SHOWN ME HOW T’PUT ONE ON!”

Violet softened once more and sighed. She laid the condom on her chest and took Nathan by the waist to make him scoot towards her. For shits n giggles she raked her nails down his hips and he buckled with slight pain and pleasure. Violet smirked but took his cock in one hand while rolling the rubber over the shaft and down to the base expertly. She kissed his stomach, erection twitching as he came in proximity to get mouth.

Violet traced a fingertip over the stars he had tattooed down his pelvic bone. “What the hell possessed you?” She gazed up at him through her bangs.

Nathan caressed her cheek down to her lips where Violet sucked on his finger. She nipped playfully at it waiting for an answer. “It's shooting stars (stairs) all the way down t’ the milky fucking way”

Violet immediately regretted her decision to ask. Again. She had to remind herself he wasn't immature per se, more like stunted. Nathan had a good heart under the cushion of sarcasm and arrogance. A heart she placed the palm of her hand against to feel its steady beat.

“I'm only joking. Was a good place t’ hide it from mum. We can shag now right?”

Violet laid back on the pillows and opened up to him. Without hesitation, Nathan plowed into her. That pelvic bone collided with Violet’s as the breath escaped her lungs. Sweat gleamed along his chest and forehead mixed with the scent of her sex as his pace became almost ludicrous. There was pounding and diving into the hilt. As far inside of Violet as she allowed.

This is actually ok, she thought to herself as she attempted to match his speed and failed.

Violet laid under Nathan while he rutted like a wild animal. Breathless and panting as he attempted multitasking: Kissing her and fucking her. He failed at least one and opted to immerse himself in her hair as his body spasmed a release so violent and sudden all that escaped Nathan's throat was a strangled cry.

He collapsed on the pillows beside Violet and almost immediately passed out. She merely snorted, rolled away to check the time. It was then she felt soft, cold pinpoints on her bare arms and chest and hair. What was going on outside in the Nevada desert she registered as happening inside her bedroom.

Violet rolled over to face her lover. Snowflakes covered his bangs and long eyelashes. She held out her hands to catch giant fluffy flakes. Those same flakes fell inches high on her balcony but nowhere else. Violet snuggled into the chest of the man who slept beside her. Lost in his ecstasy, it appeared that he made it snow.

Nathan had given Violet her first white christmas.

[one-boring-person]

Only Traitors Consort With The Damned (Part Nine)

The Lost Boys x reader

Warnings: violence, blood imagery

Context: The first of the SRS has arrived, but thankfully not in large numbers.

A/N: hopefully I'll have a more Halloween-esque part to this out next weekend, so stay tuned for that!😁💛

Masterlist

A shiver runs through my body as I move silently through the back streets of Santa Carla, my hand resting on the gun holstered at my hip, gloved fingers tapping lightly on the deadly weapon as if in anticipation, my muscles taut and ready to spring into action. Unsurprisingly, a cool wind is blowing through town, the late October chill easily seeping into my new, stolen black denim jacket, the new outfit the boys found for me acting as a suitable disguise, seeing as the SRS uniform from before is a little too conspicuous, though the chains rattling quietly by my thigh are a little distracting, and the studs adorning the variety of clothes are a little superfluous, but it does it's part well enough. Thankfully, I got to keep my boots, so at least I'm not getting blisters from any new ones.

Biting my lip, I turn down yet another deserted alley, quickly scanning it for danger, noting the lack of people instantly, though there are a few cars and bins sitting by the surrounding walls here and there, each of them providing sufficient cover for a person, or multiple persons. Slowly, I edge forwards, watching the surroundings for any movement, aware that there could be danger at any moment, my heart pounding as I clock the lack of sound in the area, suddenly aware of the fact that there are no working streetlamps on this particular strip of alley, leaving it completely cloaked in darkness. Uneasy, I stop still, feeling the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Very carefully, I take off my gloves, placing them in my pocket as I listen closely to the eerie silence, watching the dark space in front of me, hoping to catch anything, should it come closer.

My head snaps round in the direction of a muted footstep, my fingers wrapping around the stock of the gun, pulling it from its holster and smoothly cocking it, flicking off the safety as I turn towards the noise. Mechanically, I lift the weapon a little higher, calming my racing heart before I step over towards the car the noise came from, holding my breath as I try to make out any shapes in the suffocating blackness, finding it nigh-on impossible to do so.

As I approach the car, I lift the gun higher still, edging around the seemingly abandoned vehicle, keeping my eyes trained on the space in front of me, my training kicking in as a dull calm spreads through me, keeping me from moving erratically, everything around me filtering out as I round the bonnet of the car.

A sudden blow to my upper back throws me forwards into the wall ahead of me, the air leaving my lungs as I collide with it painfully, tears springing to my eyes as my nose makes contact, the gun falling from my hands. Recovering quickly, I duck down before the second punch can come, a stifled yelp of surprise escaping my attacker as their fist connects with the hard surface, their knuckles most likely cracking from the force, causing them to reel back a little, leaving me time to spin around and jump back upright again. Without pausing, I swing my fist round into their exposed ribs, feeling the bones give slightly under the impact, my other hand coming round to land a hard blow to their descending face, their body whipping to the side in response. I move closer, intending to grab them, only for them to suddenly lunge forwards and shove me up against the wall, fists pummeling my sides, low grunts of pain leaving my lips as I grab their shoulders, but to no avail.

After a particularly well-aimed punch to the centre of my collarbones, I have to suck in a sharp breath of air, wincing as pain explodes through my chest, rendering me momentarily incapable of retaliating, giving my attacker the perfect opportunity to grab my hair and throw me away from the wall, my body violently crashing into the car bonnet as they drop me there, pain quickly spreading through me as I make contact. Under my weight, the windscreen cracks and shatters, shards of glass digging into my back as I skid over them, my attacker advancing on me with a newfound confidence, my eyes swiftly spotting the knife in their hand. Ignoring the blood pouring from my nose and mouth, I quickly roll to the side to avoid a sudden downwards thrust of the blade, dropping off of the car and onto the floor, going to get up, only to be stopped by a hand grasping my hair again, yanking my head back and pressing the knife to my throat. Eyes going wide, I take hold of their arm and press against it, feeling the icy sting of the blade just cutting into my skin, panic starting to well up in my body as I fight against their strength, only to find them slowly overpowering me.

With one last push, I drive an elbow backwards, catching them in the knee with enough force to make them buckle a little, giving me the chance to duck out of their grip and throw them onto their back on the floor, swiftly pinning then down as I grab my own knife from my pocket, wincing as they manage to use their's to leave a long gash down one of my arms. Putting my knife to their throat, I press down until they stop struggling, the two of us breathing very heavily as we calm ourselves, both waiting for the next move.

When nothing happens, I go to lean back slightly, only for my captive to suddenly write underneath me, kicking me backwards a little so that I have to stretch out my arms to keep myself upright. In doing so, however, I manage to lodge my knife in their thigh, a scream of agony tearing itself from their lips at their self-inflicted wound, blood starting to ooze out from around the base of the weapon, colourful curses and swears aimed at me accompanying the whines and whimpers of pain that follow. Climbing off of them, I swiftly grab their wrists and use the rope at my belt to tie them together, ignoring their pleas and begging, the voice now distinctly male as they try to appeal to my better nature, seemingly forgetting that they just tried to kill me.

I don't look at their face, turning to their newly sustained wound, thinking things over, before making a split decision. Pulling another rope from my belt, I tie it around the top of his thigh, pulling it tight to stop the bleeding, choosing to leave the weapon in place as I work, eventually telling him to shut up as he continues to ramble on.

*

"Who the hell is that and why the fuck is he here?!" David growls at me as I eventually manage to drag the Scout into the cave, a trail of dirt mapping out the path I used as I manoeuvre my way around the messy interior.

"This," I start, dropping the man's legs as I find a better source of light, "Is a Scout, someone sent to find me before the rest of the Clean-up Team arrives. He's here because we're taking him hostage."

Kneeling down beside the now-unconscious man, I turn my attention to the knife protruding from his leg, quickly deciding how to go about this. Taking hold of the Scout's knife, I carefully cut away the fabric of his trousers around the wound, gently testing how tightly the knife is wedged into the muscle, before dropping the weapon in my hand and grabbing a piece of nearby cloth.

"A hostage? Why are you taking a hostage?" David continues to interrogate me, scowling at me as I yank the knife from the wound and use the fabric to staunch the flow of blood that rushes out.

"So that I have some leverage over them when they come for me, though I'm not too sure how well they'll react to this." I muse out loud, only now realising that the platinum blonde vampire across from me is having a hard time controlling himself, "Sorry, I forgot that this would be difficult for you guys."

A small part of me is glad that David is the one who volunteered to stay behind tonight to keep watch with me, given that he seems to have the most self control (apart from Dwayne) when it comes to blood; if it was Paul, the Scout would be dead by now.

David just huffs, sitting in his wheelchair sullenly as he waits for me to finish, blue eyes watching me as I examine the wound.

"Hey, do you think you could get the med-kit from my rucksack, please? I need to stitch this or he'll bleed out." I ask him quietly, hoping he'll agree.

The vampire rolls his eyes, but stands and gets the kit anyway, handing it to me with a grunt. Thanking him, I take out a needle and thread, sterilizing them both as I prepare them for use, removing the makeshift bandage from the wound and leaning in to start sewing the edges shut.

"Where did you learn to do that?" David asks suddenly, breaking the silence.

"This? I learnt on the job, a few years ago. Some werewolf caught me with its claws when I got too close. I had to stitch myself up, so I learned from the experience." I explain dismissively, remembering the incident well.

"A werewolf?" The vampire questions, seemingly confused, "Where was that?"

"Somehwere in Texas, I think. I don't really remember the specifics. Why?"

"Oh, I wasn't aware that there were still werewolves in this country."

"Really?! You can't possibly think you're the only supernatural beings left in the U.S?" I ask, incredulous.

"I've been stuck in Santa Carla for as long as I can remember, so I wouldn't know." He chuckles in response, "What're you gonna do with him when he wakes up?"

I shrug.

"Talk to him, interrogate him. I just need to know how close the SRS are to finding me."

"How close do you think they are?" David queries quietly.

I sigh to myself, sitting back on my heels as I finish the job.

"Honestly, I'd rather not think about it."

Part Ten

[5-falsehoods-phonated]

Overgrown Metal

Chapter 2: Camping

Summary of fic:

Almost two decades ago, the fae rose up from beyond the realm with technology far surpassing the human race, quickly taking over after laying waste to nearly everything in their wake. Virgil and Roman, Society escapees and hunters, run into an uncertain future while fleeing from their pasts. Remy and Remus stare their only chance straight in the face as they teeter on the edge of reluctant adventure. Emile is left his cousins engineering palace and is given the tools to change the world. Logan, a lone researcher and outcast is found by an old friend who offers him a chance of the century. Hyden (deciet), can shift into anything he so chooses, but staying true to his form as his heritage slaps him sideways proves harder than he thought. Patton mourns the loss of his son as he slowly uncovers secrets he wishes aren't related.

Or less wordy:

Eight idiots with trust issues fumble around each other and try to save the world from killer mechanical beasts and fairies that will snap your neck without taking their hands from their wine glasses.

Warnings: Violence, fight scenes, dark fantasy, apocalypse setting, some gore, blood

TW for this chapter: spiraling thoughts, mentions of anxiety. If you see more you want mentioned, please say something.

Ships: Remy (sleep) x Remus. Brotherly Roman and Virgil. Platonic Logan and Hyden (Deciet)

Wrapping his cloak tighter around himself, the young man grumbled quietly to himself as he scooted closer to the small fire. Two cans of mini raviolis sat nearby, cracked open slightly and heating up just a foot away from the flames. He let out a quiet curse as his stomach grumbled loudly, making more noise in a couple seconds than he had in a week.

'What the hell is taking you so long?' he thought at his still absent companion. The water of the nearby river was freezing, it shouldn't be taking this long to clean. He would had heard if the other was attacked. Even if the attacker was silent Roman typically wasn't, their overly dramatic battle cries carrying over fields if they so chose them too. Maybe they fell in? Again, he would have heard the yell...unless the shock from the cold rendered them nonverbal. Or something had dragged them in. Maybe while cleaning off their weapons their hand had slipped and they had sliced themself open and was currently bleeding out and he wouldn't know because he was being too stubborn to leave the warmth of the fire. What if they fell and cracked their head open on a rock? What if-

Cruching footsteps interrupting his racing thoughts and he breathed a quiet sigh of relief. While he was getting better at not having to check on Roman every few minutes to make sure they were still around, it didn't stop his thoughts from quickly spiraling when the thought of him being alone again filled his head. Roman plopped down beside him having deposited their pack with their other belongings nearby, leaning forward to carefully take the cans away from the fire and depositing one in front of each of them before procuring spoons from God-knows-where but he was hungry so it didn't matter.

He growled low as he snatched the utensil, ripping the lid the rest of the way off and shoveling the ravioli with essence of tin in his mouth regardless of the heat.

"Slow down, dark and stormy gremlin, you're gonna choke!" He didn't even spare a glance at the scandalized face as the last of the sauce was scraped up and eaten in less than a minute.

"Was hungry." He mumbled out, hands disappearing back into the cloak as he burrowed further into its warmth.

The other eyed him fondly. "Honestly, Virgil I can't take you anywhere. I get a spot at the nicest pasta joint in town and this is how you behave? I really can't take you anywhere."

They frowned as they only recieved a soft huff in response. "Are you alright? I'm sorry I was gone for so long, that oil takes a while to work out in cold water."

Virgil shook his head. "....that."

Catching only half the mumble, Roman set their own empty can down and scooted closer. "Can I ask you to repeat that or is it a signing day?"

Virgil squeezed himself tighter in the fabric and lifted his head up towards the other. Roman's eyes shone with concern even in the dim light of their small campfire, the effect only slightly ruined by the dark curls drying in the humid air making them puff out in a fluffy halo around their head. The image made him smile lightly and duck his head back down to suppress his giggles.

"Hairs messy."

He only giggled harder at the offended gasp. "I'm offering you a damn heart to heart here and I get insulted!" Roman grimaced as they felt what state their hair was in, ruing their days as a traveler if only for the fact that hairstyles were rendered useless on an adventure. They were still bitter over The Great Hairspray Debacle of 2015, having to give the space up in their pack for "actual necessary supplies, Roman".

Virgils laughter died down as the nervous feeling began to creep back into his thoughts. Roman noticed the sobering mood and sat back slightly, willing to wait for the young nervous wreck to gather his thoughts.

"Town's coming up."

Roman nodded. They knew there was a town with an underground market a few days travel away from the last time they had come through this way. They hadn't had time to stop before, but this time around they needed to empty out their packs of the items that had been piling up for a few weeks now and their supplies were getting low enough that they would have needed to stop to stock up anyway. They gestured for Virgil to continue even though they knew what the source of anxiety was going to be.

"What if..." Virgil growled in frustration as the words stuck in his throat, the rolling anxiety in his stomach and mind making him struggle to not shut down. Long, pale fingers twisted and bunched the fabric around him until with a frustrated huff they darted out and flipped out a quick gesture.

"Recognized?"

Roman nodded in understanding and he sighed in relief. He knew not being able to speak most of the time had to be annoying for his companion but thankfully they never seemed to mind, only waiting patiently for either words to be forced out or hands to jerkedly spell out what little bit of sign language he knew. He made up a lot along the way and most of the time he was able to be understood. With no internet to look up the language, books being a Society priviledge and a general distrust of people making it difficult to ask anyone for lessons, even though they never stayed in one place for long, official sign wasn't something either of them were good at.

"That's why we have the cloaks and hoods and even the masks if we feel like we need them. We're pretty far away though, I doubt anyone we would know would be around." Roman took up a stick and poked around the fire a bit, stirring it as the embers began to die down for the night. "Nothing has ever happened at any of the towns we've been in, and I've heard this one is particularly...underground, so to speak. No one who would recognize us would be caught dead near there. We'll go in, sell our parts, grab supplies and get out. Next stop after that will be that abandoned city-town-place wherever that we heard about a while back. It'll be fine, Anx."

Virgil smiled at the old nickname, something Roman had taken to calling him when he refused to reveal his name the first few months they began traveling together. His shoulders relaxed the tiniest bit as the name ironically released some of the pent up anxiety, fingers releasing the cloak and instead splaying on his ripped black jeans to try and wipe off the accumulated sweat.

They both sat in silence for a while after that, watching the fire die down completely as the late evening faded into complete darkness, the clear sky allowing the stars to be on full display with no threat of light pollution to obscure their giddy twinkling. Crickets chirped quietly in the long grass, fireflies answering back their call with lazy winks of light. Even the river was hushed, water seeming to lap quieter at the shore for fear of breaking the rare tranquility the nearby travelers were soaking in.

With the world this soft and still, Virgil could pretend for a moment that this was merely an extended camping trip. Maybe they were on their summer break and were hiking for the fun of it. Tomorrow they could trek through a forest like it was nothing, sunlight streaming through normal tree branches as untouched wildlife teemed around them. All of their gear and supplies could be innocent in nature, the heaviest thing in their packs could be a small camping stove rather than their extensive collection of foreign trading parts. Their supplies were running low, so they'd soon start heading back the way they came, finding their car and laughing at some dumb play argument they had on the way back while they reloaded everything and climbed in the front, laughter turning to more bickering as they fought over what music they'd listen to first. Roman would drive first since Virgil only had his permit and wouldn't feel comfortable taking the wheel until he recognized the roads they were on. They'd get to Virgils house and it would be coming onto late evening so he'd let Roman stay the night, knowing his dad-

Virgil furiously scrubbed at his eyes, snapping back from his thoughts. His dad wouldn't care of a friend stayed over. He didn't care about anything. He didn't even care when - no. Nope, not tonight. Rubbing absentmindedly at his arms he scooted backwards away from the now dead fire and laid back to watch the sky, Roman following soon after. They didn't say anything as he turned and wrapped himself around the other tightly, for which he was grateful. He smiled as he felt lips touch the top of his head and careful arms lay themselves across his back. Surrounded by safety and warmth it wasn't hard for sleep to find him.

-------

".....an."

"Come on, Ro....."

"Princey, get up!"

Roman shot up, blinking rapidly to clear the lingering sleep from their eyes and shaking their head to try and whip the tangled curls away. Glaring in response to their brothers shit-eating grin, they settled for flipping him off while they rubbed at their eyes, getting a water bottle thrown at them in retaliation.

"Too early." They mumbled as they fumbled with the lid.

Virgil laughed. "Try again, Sleeping Ugly, it's almost noon. I've had camp packed up for hours now."

Offended at the nickname but grinning nonetheless, they downed half the bottle in one go and dragged their pack over lazily. Virgil was always the early riser in their party of two, despite the late nights he often kept as a sleeping schedule. Roman however, was happy to spend the day hitting the metaphorical snooze button unless they had actual plans. Which, unless another Mech Beast was spotted this close to a town, which was highly unlikely, this was supposed to be a day of resting.

Looking over at the other however, their irritation softened as the ball of anxious energy went from task to already done task trying to keep himself busy. Though it seemed he'd be more talkative today than he had been that didn't mean his nerves weren't soaring to the sky with how close they were to people again. They knew they should both take a break today, but if moving would help...

Mind made up they stood, swinging the pack around to rest on their shoulder and picking up another to carry first for the time being. Different peices of metal and containers holding strange substances clanked together inside, securely wrapped in paper and fabric to prevent them from breaking or getting scratched. They'd make Virgil carry it later on but they figured since they got extra sleep it would only be fair to carry the heavier pack first.

Trying one last time to fix their hair back into a reasonable shape Roman turned towards Virgil with a smile.

"Ready?"

Hoisting up his own pack he nodded and kicked at the already severely scuffed dirt, rising up on his tip toes as he began to walk.

"As I'll ever be."

--------

This is also available on AO3 if you're interested. I can't promise regular updates but I really like this story so I'll be picking at it for a while.

And we're another chapter in! I didnt think about this before, but if you'd like to be tagged for story updated feel free to ask. If you want to read it on here but can't find the first chapter, search overgrown metal in the tags and it'll come up.

[headoverhiddles]

Coming Home - Tim Roth x Reader [Smut]

Synopsis: You come home after a long day, one thing on your mind-- your sexy older boyfriend, waiting on the couch.

Notes: I think you all can tell by now when I get in a really impulsively horny mood 🙃 Have fun with this! I did.

You hurry up the stairs, and open the door with your key, letting out a long sigh as you toss the keys on the counter. It's been a day, but you're glad to be home and in for the night, forgetting your boss, clients, and every little thing that distracted you from your one goal today.

"Hey, cutie."

You turn, and see your older boyfriend Tim reclined on the couch.

"Hey," you smirk, discarding your jacket. He's wearing his ratty jeans, black T-shirt, and he's leaning against the arm of the couch lazily, watching something mindless on TV.

"Do you know how good you look right now?" you lick your lips, sauntering his way. He turns the TV off, and looks your direction. His eyes are half lidded, but there's something restless in them.

"Funny. I was about to say the same."

You walk over, and stand in front of him. You then wiggle your hips a little, and take your shirt off, reaching back slowly to take the bra off too. You immediately have his full attention.

"And what did I do to deserve this?" he asks, eyes shamelessly ogling your breasts.

"You left me this morning," you pout, "You had a wet dream about me, woke up hard, and didn't even fuck me. So this is more of a personal wish fulfillment, rather than a reward."

"I was late for work," he protests softly, watching you rotate your hips in an inticing way, surveying you as if he wanted to fucking attack you.

"But you probably got to jerk off in the shower," you continue to sigh, running a hand through your tousled locks. Tim suppresses a groan.

"I didn't. It was a cold shower, I didn't even have time to finish myself, I've been miserable all day."

"So we're both in the same boat then, huh?" you smirk deviously, crawling forward, "Both need to fuck it out?"

"You bet that pretty little arse I want to fuck it out," Tim whispers, still staring, "But why do I have the nagging feeling you're not gonna let me just yet?"

You hum, and reach forward, putting your hands on his thighs and squeezing the denim. He watches you as you crawl up to the couch, and bring your lips down, nudging with your nose and finally sucking around his cock, through the fabric. His legs fall open, his head rolling back.

"Fuck, love," he shakes his head, "That's..." You suck in earnest, feeling him fill out his jeans, and soon, there's a sizeable bulge tenting his crotch.

"You have no idea how much I wanna taste your cum right now," you mumble, and Tim's lips part, "But I have something else in mind." You get up, and sit down on his lap, looping your arms behind his neck. Tim looks up at you, into your eyes, as you straddle him, and slowly start dragging your panties against his erection, getting him harder.

"Oh," he whispers, fingers digging into the flesh of your hips, and you continue dragging yourself against him, moaning every time you get that friction against your clit.

"I think I'm getting your jeans wet," you giggle in his ear.

"I think I don't give a fuck," he growls back, rolling his hips up in a dirty grind in time with your humping. Your foreheads connect as your hot breath mingles, and your lips barely graze against one another before you finally seal yours against his in a sloppy, hot mess, all tongue and no patience. Just as you're getting close to a shattering orgasm, Tim grabs your hips still, getting up and slinging you over the side of the couch. He then rolls your ass around in his hands, moaning your name as he admires you. He trails a finger down the wet middle of your panties, lightly stroking your pussy, and it contracts, making you shiver.

"You want this?" he humps his clothed erection against your panties, "That it? Eh? You want my cock, love, just like this, nice and dirty?"

"Fuck, Tim please!" you moan, breasts dragging against the couch. He keeps humping you until the pace picks up, his bulge dragging perfectly against your pussy and making you bite your fist.

"Don't hold back," he hisses, "I wanna hear you scream for me."

"Fuck, oh god!" you shriek, beyond caring if the neighbors can hear how slutty you're acting, "Tim, daddy, I want your big cock!"

He continues humping you, and you flip around, sitting on the edge of the couch arm and wrapping one leg behind him. He picks it up, glaring into your eyes with the focused intensity of a man who intends to fuck you until you're rendered immobile. You two dry hump for a few seconds more, before your orgasm hits you, letting out a high pitched, slutty moan of Tim's name. He lets out a sigh of awe, watching how beautiful you look coming, and you feel a wet spot suddenly form in the crotch of his jeans. You smirk up at him as he grunts and convulses, coming in his pants, and you reach down, unzipping him and taking his wet, softening cock out into your hand.

"Nuh uh," you nip his ear, starting to stroke your boyfriend again, "We're not finished yet."

"I can see that," he groans, "Oh, fuck..." He bites his lip. "That thing you do with your hand... drives me up the walls." You continue, stroke, tug, twist, stroke. You then get down on your knees, and using your fist to hold it upright, you take his half hard cock into your mouth, the tip of your tongue playing with his slit.

"Mmmm," you moan around him, and Tim seems to have lost the ability to articulate a sentence at this point. You feel him throb against your tongue, hot and heavy, and his breath comes punched out, fast.

"I'm... gonna... come..." he pants, hips beginning to piston forward. You give one last lick to the vein, and pull off his dick, standing up again and resuming your previous position.

"Then you'd better fuck me."

He wastes no time, glowering as he grabs you by the back of the neck and slams you down into the couch, kicking your legs apart and finally, finally to the utter relief of the two of you, burying his cock inside you. You both groan, waiting a couple of seconds just to enjoy the pleasure of him stretching your wet little hole, and then he begins to move, fast slapping the only sound in your living room. His balls smack your ass as he lifts one leg up on the couch cushion for leverage, and your cries of "yes! Yes, Tim!" get even louder as his cock hits new spots inside of you you'd never discovered yourself.

"Fuck, look at you," he grunts, "Getting fucked like a little whore, like you deserve." His dirty, growling accent turns you on to new heights.

"I'm your perfect whore," you moan, "Love getting fucked by you, Tim, please, harder, ah!"

He turns you around again, and pulls out a little, giving shallow thrusts as he grasps your face and drags you in for another deep, sloppy kiss. Your tongues battle in the middle, but you let Tim win of course, and you two make out rough as he gives a good thrust, sending the two of you toppling backward onto the couch and laughing.

"Fuck, I've broken my back," he laughs through the kiss.

"Worry about it tomorrow. When my pussy is so wrecked neither of us will be able to get up."

"Uff," he gasps, and you kiss some more, your mouth opening as your pussy clenches, your second orgasm beginning to tingle. Tim's relentless pounding causes your breasts to bounce like a jackhammer, sending you right over the edge, and you scream his name as he practically fucks the couch cushion out from under you, thrusting twice, three times, before gasping against your lips. You feel the warm spending fill you up, and grin, wrapping your legs around his back and trapping him over top of you.

"I swear, one of these days my body's just gonna go nope, sorry! This bloke's out of his fucking mind, and just give out on me," Tim mumbles, and you wrap your arms around his middle, to make doubly sure he can't leave.

"But just think... at least you will have gotten a spectacular shag out of it."

He laughs, kissing you. "I fucking love you."

You rotate your hips once more with him still inside you, and spank his ass with your foot. "I love you more."

Tim attacks your neck with more kisses, and you squeal, grabbing onto his hair. The neighbor behind the wall beside you gives a good loud pound.

"Really?! Again?!"

Tim resurfaces, irritation and determination on his face-- bad combo for him. His brows furrow, and he shouts:

"Hey fuck off mate, my girlfriend and I are having a go!"

"More like three!"

"More like, more than you'll ever get, wanking to your computer screen all night!" Tim shouts back. You giggle, tugging him down and whispering for him to stop. Your laugh is infectious, and his annoyance cracks into amusement.

"Bloody tosser next door, he makes more noise than we do..."

"Tim, ohmygod!"

You both laugh, and he stays trapped between your legs, going back to slowly making out and making up for time lost that morning.

[simkjrs]

Hi! Just a quick writing question. How do you keep au versions of canon characters from feeling like OCs and vice versa? I've been trying to write an OC fic but lately I've been wondering if it might work better as an au Izuku fic. I ask you because your fics always seen so in character even tho you have one where Izuku is like a distortion in the fabric of reality or something. that's one's really neat by the way.

for me, when considering au versions of a character, it basically comes down to: (1) what fundamental characteristics stay, regardless of change? (2) how are their beliefs and their inner world shaped by their alternate circumstances?

let’s consider the case for izuku. for question no. 1, i’d say that some facets of his personality that stay regardless of the universe are:

his tendency to fixate on a subject/topic of interest, which often becomes a driving passion as well. mostly: he’s a nerd who will write, color code, and organize 13 notebooks on heroism if that’s what interests him. although his interests may change between universes, how he engages with them does not.

his tendency to avoid or escape from his own problems, even though he knows he shouldn’t

tendency to devalue himself (this is usually tied to the years of bullying & abuse he suffered at bakugou’s hands)

alarming proclivity to go “self harm is okay then?” and do something extremely inadvisable for himself in pursuit of a goal (which is, more often than not, helping someone else)

this is because izuku considers his health and well-being as a tool he has to be used in pursuit of a goal, rather than a goal in and of itself

quick thinking and analysis, as well as some sarcastic quips if he feels comfortable at the time

loves his friends and family, would do just about anything for them

an unshakeable conviction and impulse to act when concerning his beliefs. he may be nervous, afraid, unwilling, etc. in any other situation or when it comes to protecting himself; but put him in a situation where someone is out of line with his beliefs, and he will act. (i.e. in canon, compare izuku’s normal demeanor with when he yells at todo/roki and i/nasa to get over themselves and get a-heroing. top 10 anime scenes)

so then we have a very good idea of the skeleton of izuku’s personality. we then flesh it out with changes rendered by an au, and consider question (2). 

example #1: in byggualom, izuku still fixates on heroism, so he is still knowledgable about heroes, their laws and history, etc. however, in this au, his passion also leads him to start considering all the flaws that exist within the industry. 

izuku wants to be a hero. in this au, this ambition leads izuku to actually take action – training himself to the point of absurdity, which leads to his strength. then, he finds he has the capability to help others. one of izuku’s strongly held beliefs is that if someone needs help, then you should help. therefore: izuku takes up vigilantism because he’s there, and he can help. he also blames himself for instances when he can’t help everyone the way he wants to, because he’s trained and he can fight and he should be able to do better! he shouldn’t need to burden anyone else with his problems! then we can see how izuku’s fighting prowess and insecurity can coexist, and in fact, are even related.

izuku’s “self harm is ok then?” tendency in this au changes his relationship with bakugou; bakugou fights him, punches him, etc. etc. and izuku goes, “well, it doesn’t hurt me anymore, so it’s okay!” and if bakugou says something hurtful every now and then, well, it’s just words. so izuku suppresses the hurt, anger, and occasional antipathy he feels for bakugou abusing him, and goes out of his way not to think about it. so here we have an internal character arc in the making.

example #2: black dirt under your feet, with afo!izuku. being abused by all for one for the better part of his life, izuku doesn’t have a lot of interests of his own, and in fact actively hides them. however, his analysis & ability to organize information makes him effective at carrying out the missions/tasks he is assigned. 

we know that all for one has been trying to shape izuku into a tool, but izuku manages to hang onto himself because a) his fixation on heroes, and admiration for how they helped others, from before he was taken; b) his core beliefs, i.e. villainy is bad. 

we also know that izuku, in order to survive, has suppressed these facets of himself and molded himself to afo’s expectations until he could plot a way to kill afo. but in order to do this, he had to do things that go against his moral code. izuku, then, is going to carry a lot of guilt and self-hatred, and probably has passive self-harm tendencies in that he lets himself get hurt even though he probably could have avoided it. he also makes his plan to kill afo, fully believing he would be dead afterwards. 

being raised into the villain alliance, izuku has had to learn to lie convincingly, to act, etc. the trauma he’s suffered under afo has also made him taciturn, wary, and mistrustful. he plays his cards close to his chest and will manipulate the people around him to meet his goals – this is what he was taught to do, after all. but some things don’t change, which is that izuku wants to do right. things can be extrapolated from there. 

example #3: with my spirit academia, i ask myself what experiences he went through as a child, and what kind of beliefs they installed in him. for example: did he try and tell others about the spirits, what kind of reaction did he receive? if it was repeated disbelief, then wouldn’t izuku learn that he has to keep that to himself? being unable to share such a large part of his world, wouldn’t izuku be unable to relate as well to the people around him? 

we have a premise, that izuku “should not exist” (for reasons i have yet to disclose), and that the spirits alternately fear him and revile him – except when they’re taking advantage of his skills. how would this treatment affect a young child? i’ll not write more on this but feel free to take a guess. 

so that’s roughly my process for understanding au versions of different characters, so that they are in character but still reflect the changes of my universe. 

i think the difference between an oc and an au version of character really comes down to... what are their fundamental characteristics? if your au character doesn’t share the same fundamentals as their canon counterpart, they’ll come across as ooc. if your oc shares the fundamentals of a canon character, then they could operate as an au version of said character. 

if you want to make sure your oc doesn’t overlap with a canon character, then i’d challenge you to figure out your oc’s fundamental  characteristics, how their personality was then informed by the environment they grew up in, and how that changes their relationships to others. 

hope this helps!