#must see again for a nighttime set

[imustbeamermaidrango]

Drab Majesty <3 <3 <3

[citruswriter]

Bayverse Turtles x Animalistic Reader

A/N - This will be broken up in four different parts. Each turtle will have a reader with animal traits that I feel like just kinda... matches them. Like "yes that adds up".

Listen with me! ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮▯▯▯

Your eyes fluttered open as you groggily groaned. "What time is it?" You yawned to yourself, hand sleepily finding your alarm clock. 2:30AM is what it read and you rolled over, groaning loudly. You tried to lick your lips but realized that your mouth was incredibly dry. Pulling yourself out of bed, you stumbled to the kitchen for a drink. Grabbing a glass, you briefly glanced at the bowl on the island only to do a double take. April's keys were gone. Checking your phone as you drank, you didn't see a text from her telling you where she might have been. "Where the fuck is this bitch?" You mumbled, going to check Life360. Her location? In an abandoned sewer. Oh fuck. You immediately thought. Did she go out for a nighttime walk only to be abducted? Was she dead? Your mind was going a million miles a minute as you tugged on shoes, grabbed your bike, and lugged it down the stairs. You cycled as fast as you could. When you reached your destination, you looked around. You couldn't find her... Fuck is she IN the sewer? I swear to god, if she's still alive I'm chewing her out. You thought bitterly. Lifting the manhole, you shimmied down the latter, drawing the manhole back over you.

"Uh guys? Somebody's in the sewers". Donnie spoke up, interrupting Mikey from whatever tangent he had been talking to April about. Everybody sprang up to look at the cameras. "Shit". April cursed and Leo looked at her, "Friend of yours?" He questioned and the brunette rubbed her temples. "Yeah. They're my roommate. Fuck I must have forgotten to turn off my location." She groaned. "April?!" Your voice called and April sprang into action. "Hey roomie!" April said, sprinting out before you could see the turtles. You hugged her tightly. "Oh my god, thank goodness your alive. I saw your location in the abandoned sewer and I immediately thought the worst. Never do that to me again." You sighed. "Hey uh... You moving into the sewer or something? I know rent is crazy, but come on. The sewer?" You teased, pushing past the beaded curtain. The turtles held their breath as they sort of hid in a corner. You turned back around to April to grin. "Look um, you can't exactly be here". She muttered and your expression immediately dropped to a glare. "April I adore you but maybe next don't, oh I don't know, GO TO AN ABANDONED FUCKING SEWER IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT?!" you yelled.

"Yeah I guess you're right. I should have told you, texted you that I was ok". She agreed guiltily, rubbing her arm. You sighed in frustration, muttering something about her going to be the death of you. "Look you really should leave". She said, tone more firm. "Absolutely not. You're going to explain yourself because ain't no way you're setting up some cool underground hideout and then just not tell me about it," you shot back. "You really think it's cool?" A voice said excitedly. Spinning around, a sight beheld you.

✧─── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

Leonardo x Reader 🧡

Reader is: A wolf

A/N - Idk why but I feel like a wolf-like partner would suit Leo. Loyal and on guard but also caring and fun loving.

Ears pinned back, you bared your fangs and growled at the creatures in front of you. "Thought I smelled reptiles," you growled, golden irises eyeing the creatures in front of you. "Is that supposed to be an insult?" The one with a blue headband questioned, tone cold and threatening as he rounded you. Lowering your stance, you made sure to keep him in your sights. "If the shoe fits," you said, ears still pinned back. "Woah, woah, woah!" April yelled, planting herself in front of you. "They're friends, (Y/N)! Ok?! Friends!" She said. Lifting your head, you sniffed the air. Her scent was quite strong in the lair. She had been here many times before. Relaxing you stood back up, ears perking back up as you wagged your tail softly. "Sorry. You know how I feel about strangers," you said sheepishly. "Yeah well, cool it. Because I don't need you and Leo fighting." She said, letting out a stressed sigh. "Leo?" You tilted your head, looking at the giant turtles. "Wait. Ok. Are these your old turtles? Like, from the lab?" You asked with a shocked laugh. Leo seemed to have relaxed and approached you, "That's correct. The mutagen that her father was working on ended up mutating us and Master Splinter," he confirmed.

He eyed your outfit, blue boxers with a grey tank top and loose lighter grey jacket. "You didn't get dressed before you left, did you?" He questioned and you immediately got embarrassed, looking down at your outfit. "Ah- no. I was kinda focusing too much on making sure that April wasn't dead or kidnapped," you replied, one of your ears drooping to match your embarrassed facial expression. Leo couldn't help himself, he touched one of your ears, scratching it lightly. You leaned into his touch, tail wagging happily. Quickly he withdrew his hand, "I apologize. I shouldn't have touched you without consent". He said, bowing softly and you laughed, a sound he thought sounded absolutely melodic. "Oh please. You're perfectly fine, just don't tug on anything. I joke that I'm April's dog since we can't afford one," you assured him and April laughed at your words, rolling her eyes before going to sit on the couch with Mikey. Leo shook his head and chuckled softly.

"You look good in blue by the way," he murmured and you went to hide your face in your jacket sleeves. "Shut up or I'm smacking you," you muttered back and he just laughed. "As if you could hurt me, blossom," he replied, going to sit down on the couch. You followed, sitting in his lap and swinging your legs over April. He looked at you curiously and you flicked your ears at him. "Blossom, hm?" You teased as he went to pet your ears once more. Now it was his turn to become flustered. "Shut up. It slipped out." You couldn't help but giggle.

✧─── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

Raphael x Reader 🧡

Reader Is: A cat

A/N - I'm sorry but this is absolutely perfect for him and your about to see why.

You unleashed your claws, nails becoming pointed as you swung forward in a fight or flight reaction. A hand grabbed your wrist. "Kitten's got claws," a gruff voice spoke up, an edge of amusement to his tone. "Let me go," you growled, tail bristling. "And why should I? Hm kitten?" The tall turtle in red teased, smirking down at you. You hissed, ears finding a way to flatten themselves even more. "Raphael please let (Y/N) go. They will find a way to claw your eyes out." April mused, going to the kitchen to get a snack. Raph let you go and your pupils narrowed to slits. "Raphael?" You questioned. "Don't wear it out, kitten". He replied and you turned to April, pointing to her and then to the turtle and she could only shrug and nod. "Wait your dead serious? These things are the old turtles?" You scoffed in bewilderment. "That's right, kitten. Little April here found us in the rubble and set us and Master Splinter free in the sewer. Little did she know, the mutagen mutated us," he said, relaxing on the couch once more.

You stalked to stand in front of him, studying his body. "Like what you see, kitten?" He teased, smug smirk drawing up the corners of his lips. You growled and flattened your ears once more. "I know I'm enjoying my view," he said, nodding to your jammies. Red lace bra you didn't feel like battling off your body and black sweatpants. You felt your cheeks heat up and you crossed your arms, growl vibrating through your chest. "Gotta say, kitten. Red looks good on ya. Mind if I add some more?" He taunted. You tried to be pissed, really you did. But you couldn't help but absolutely lose it. Laughing at his flirtatious comments, fangs glinting in the low light of the sewer. "Aren't you cute? You that desperate?" You teased back, causing Raph to become flustered. "Get burned!" Mikey called from the kitchen, causing Raph to snap at him. "Relax, big red." You said with a roll of your eyes, plopping down on the couch beside him, tail brushing against his arm. He grabbed it and softly twisted it around his hand to pet it, causing you to purr. "Look at you, kitten's not as ferocious after some pets, huh?" He said, causing you to glare at him. "Do me a favor and shut your fucking mouth." You snapped, leaning your head back onto the couch and closing your eyes. You went to pull your tail away but he gently brought it back to keep petting it.

"How about you make me, babydoll?" He challenged and you cracked your eyes open to side eye him. "Maybe another day. Preferably one where I'm not dead tired". You replied, causing Raph to chuckle in understanding. And so the two of you just sat side by side. Him watching whatever show was on TV and you asleep beside him, tail curled around his arm and chest vibrating with a loud purr.

✧─── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

Donatello x Reader 🧡 (💚 if you squint)

Reader Is: A moth

A/N - This man is an absolute night owl so um, hello? Nocturnal bug? Perfect right? Also I feel like it would be funny for this giant hunk of a man to have a partner that could easily reach his level bc the bitch can fckn fly.

You let out a loud moth squeak and almost fainted at the sight in front of you. "Woah there!" April said, rushing forward to keep you from dropping. "Chill out, roomie". She said and you almost flipped, antenna twitching in annoyance. "Chill out? April they're GIANTS! They could easily squash me like the bug I am!" You said, voice high pitched from panic. "(Y/N)! Calm down! Besides, you know them". She said softly and you tilted your head in confusion, taking deep breaths to calm yourself. "Remember my old pets? The four turtles and the rat?" She questioned and you vaguely remembered the project her father had been working on. "Y-Yeah. Um, Project Renaissance right? They injected the animals with these serums. But then the entire facility went up in flames." You recalled. "Well thanks to the mutagen, and April setting us free from the rubble, the mutagen well... mutated us," a voice spoke up and you turned to the tallest of the four, a purple bandana under his glasses. "Donatello?" You questioned softly, squinting up at him. "Or just Donnie." He said with a grin.

"You good now?" April asked gently and you nodded. She nodded back and went off to play a video game with Mikey. "This is so cool..." You marveled, moth wings expanding so you could flutter up to his height. "D-Did you not get dressed before you left the house?" Donnie stuttered out and you looked down at the purple boy shorts and baggie grayscale gradient hoodie you wore. Cheeks heating up you hid your face. "Oh my gosh, no I didn't. I was kind of too focused on finding April." You confessed and you laughed in embarrassment. "Could be worse though. Usually I sleep in less." You added before fluttering over to the other side of his head. "This is all super fascinating. Who knew the mutagen would transform some pets," you said in wonder and Donnie chuckled. "You're quite the fascinating creature yourself," he confessed and you giggled, landing gently onto your feet. "Thank you. I'm not sure why I'm... like this. I've been this way for as long as I can remember," you confessed, brows furrowed in thought. "I'd love to study you. If you'd allow me," he said sheepishly, moving towards his desk. You followed him and looked at all the gadgets he had, staring at them all with child-like wonder. "How's your sight? Moths aren't exactly known for their 20-20 vision," he asked and you glared up at him. "Neither are you from the looks of it," you retorted, making him laugh, a sound that made your heart flutter like the wings on your back. "Fair enough."

He raised a hand above your antenna, "May I?" He questioned and you tilted your head towards him, giving him silent consent to touch them. He gently brushed his fingers along them, rubbing them between his fingers. You jerked your head back, biting your fingers. "Ok so bad idea. Maybe don't touch them," you said, turning your face to hide your flustered expression, chest slightly heaving. "So they're sensitive to stimuli". The turtle muttered under his breath, jotting down a quick note. "Can I touch your wings?" He asked and you fluttered your wings softly. "Maybe not today. I'm not used to my moth bits being touched and that alone was a bit overstimulating. I'm sorry," you apologized, gently brushing at your antenna as if to calm them. "Oh no don't apologize! Here, why don't I show you some trinkets I'm working on?" He reassured, quickly changing the subject.

You perked up, fluttering up to sit on his leg. He swallowed, not expecting the move but he quickly relaxed as he began to essentially infodump on you. You listened intentionally, moth appendages occasionally twitching or fluttering with fascination. He couldn't help but feel happy that somebody took an interest in his little gizmos. It was nice. He could get used to this.

✧─── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

Michaelangelo x Reader 🧡

Reader Is: Avian (large white feathered wings and pointed elf like ears)

A/N - I love how Mikey called April angelcakes in the movie and we just RAN with it. So what better partner for Mikey than an actual real life "angel"?

Fluffing up your wings in a defensive measure, you backed away a few steps. "April what the FUCK?!" you said, tone bordering on a shriek. "Woah babes! Cool it! I swear we're super chill!" Said one of the turtles. He was the shortest with an orange bandana. You looked at the other turtles. Blue, red, purple, orange. "These guys kind of remind me of those pet turtles you had," you muttered to your roommate, and she gave an anxious laugh. "Well actually... they are my pets," she replied back and you let your wings soften, turning to look at her. "Come again?" You said, shocked. "Yeah dude! So like, after the building burned down, April took us and Master Splinter and saved us by sending us down the sewer. And then we grew up and became super cool ninjas!" Mikey said excitedly and you turned to him, ears drooping slightly as you relaxed.

"The mutagen that my father had injected in them ended up turning them into mutants," April said, answering your question before you even asked. "I'm way too tired for this..." You groaned out, rubbing your eyes. "That's ok, angelcakes. Why don't you sit on the couch? You can play Mario Kart with me!" Mikey said excitedly. You yawned and stretched, wings expanding to their full length. Mikey couldn't help but step forward and gently grab one of them.

"These are so cool..." Mikey murmured, rubbing the bone with his thumb, his other hand petting the fibers of your wings. You groaned and your wings twitched under his grasp. "Oof. That actually feels really good," you sighed out. "Hey, you know how to preen wings?" You questioned, half joking. "That's like, removing broken off feathers right?" He questioned and you eyed him. "And straightened out any feathers that might be tangled, yeah". You confirmed and Mikey got excited. "Yeah sure, I can give it a try!" Leo and April looked at each other before laughing softly at his antics. Mikey snagged a beanbag chair and plopped it up in front of the couch. "For you, my angel," he said with a dramatic bow and you couldn't help but laugh. Mikey looked over to his brothers with an excited expression. Oh boy. He's already head over heels.

"Nice outfit, by the way. I think orange looks very flattering on you, birdie," he teased and you stared down at the orange sports bra and light grey sweatpants you were wearing. "Pervert," you said with a playful smack to his arm. You sank into the beanbag chair, letting your wings drape over and expand slightly. Mikey sat on the couch and got to work. Surprisingly, he was very good at preening. Your ears would occasionally twitch or droop in relaxation. You would sigh against his touch when he got a particularly sore spot, humming in delight when he fixed it. A few minutes passed by but eventually Mikey gently rubbed the bones of your wings. "Alright I think I'm all done". He said proudly and you stood up, yawning and fluffing up your wings. "ugh that feels so much better. Thank you so much, Mikey," you said, crawling onto the couch and resting your head and arms on his lap, one wing extending down your body and the other dropping off the couch.

"O-Of course, angel," he stammered back, trying to hide his chirp as you got comfy and sleepily snuggled into him. "Sounds like somebody's happy," you teased, closing your eyes as you chuckled. "I have no idea what you're talking about," Mikey argued with a flustered expression, picking up his controller to resume the game he had previously been playing before you entered the lair. "It's ok. I do it too sometimes," you murmured. "That would be cute to hear," he said but you didn't reply. Glancing down, he saw you fast asleep. Looking over at his brothers he pointed at you, "They're so freakin beautiful," he whisper yelled and April couldn't help but giggle at him. How cute.

I feel like this is just more than a tiny bit cringy and I'm crying. Anyways, should I expand on it at all? You guys remember those like, boyfriend scenarios on Quotev and WattPad? Bet I could turn these kind of into one of those. But mini. Like confessing, going on a date, when you're in danger, maybe a smut. It would probably help me with my sharpening my writing skills. Idk if I write them well at all but I legit tried. Anyways hope you guys like this um...... goodbye.

[hotluncheddie]

Day 4: Edging

"Bi Freak"

Ao3

wc: 3.5 | rated: E | tags: Sub Eddie Munson, established relationship, bisexual Eddie Munson & Steve Harrington, mean dom Steve Harrington (kinda), degradation, sub top Eddie

written for @subeddieweek <3

📸 📸 📸 📸 📸

‘Jesus, are you hard?’ Steve asks, incredulous at how fucking ridiculous Eddie’s cock can be at times. Even walking just behind him Steve must spot how Eddie’s hands shift to tug at his belt buckle, the way his gait is a little more awkward than usual.  

Eddie freezes, readjusting again as Steve saunters past. Cheeks feeling a little hot over being caught. He was Subtle, or so he thought, but his jeans must just not be tight enough to hide his boner. 

They're walking back to the beamer after eating at the diner in town. A few familiar faces around since its summer. The two of them included, back over from Indi for a visit to see Wayne for his birthday. 

Unfortunately, seeing Wayne means staying with Wayne and while that is wonderful, the walls of the trailer are still, absolutely, the width of paper mache. So, Steve had decided the concept of sex was much too mortifying in those conditions. A different consensus from when they first got together, Eddie had pointed out. But, Steve had just laughed and kissed him, in that condescending way that just made the whole situation so so much harder, figuratively and literally.

Its been a week, basically, and Eddie’s getting desperate, and Steve is getting mean. 

Eddie jogs to catch up to Steve's long strides. ‘Did you see her though? Christ Steve she, she's a vision. A fucking goddess dude.’ 

‘I saw I saw.’ Steve shoves his hands in his jacket, Eddie looming in close at his side.

‘Like she was something then, but now? Bigger and better, did you see? You saw them right?’ Eddie moves his arms around, cups his hands, clenches his fingers. A horny interpretive dance. 

Steve sighs, faux wistfully. ‘Every day I almost forget how much of a tits guy you are, and everyday you just gotta remind me, huh? Munson? What's up with that?’ Steve jabs his elbow into Eddie’s side. Grins at the cackle it elicits. 

‘You know I fundamentally disagree with that question, Stevie. No one should be subjected to a choice like that.’ Eddie laughs, swooping in close to Steve's neck for a moment, in that way he loves. Steve’s elbow coming out to make him back away. 

Steve pulls his keys out of his pocket, the car coming into view, parked in the furthest corner. 

‘Your tits are amazing by the way.’

Steve laughs again. ‘Thanks dude, I know. Lucky for you my ego is big enough to handle your crazy libido.’ 

Eddie grumbles, kicking at a can. ‘Only crazy because of the damn “no touching” rule you set.’ 

‘Aww’ Steve coos, ‘baby cant handle a little teasing anymore?’ He smirks at Eddie, unlocking the car but not opening the door, instead watching Eddie slump over, pouting. 

Steve stalks around to the passenger side, opening the door for him and pulling his arm, shoving Eddie down onto the seat with a hand on his head. 

Eddie whimpers, feels pre-cum leak out of his tip and soak into his boxers. Fuck, he’s hard - worse now. Steve’s not let him have more than a peck, more than a nighttime spoon, for days. 

‘Wanna know a secret?’ Steve asks. 

Eddie’s slumped on the passenger seat, feet still on concrete. He rubs his hands over his burning cheeks and peeks up at the sunshine being blocked from above. Steve leaning a forearm in the car hood, looming over Eddie, caging him in. 

Steve steps right up into Eddie space, shoving his knee onto the seat right between Eddies thighs. crushing his cock. Steve leans in even closer, breath ghosting over Eddie's ear, making him shiver. 

‘I know how she tastes.’ 

Eddie feels like all his air gets gut punched out of him, feels his fucking pupils dilate so much his vision goes blurry. He makes a strangled sort of moan. His boxers flooding with cum.

‘…Did? Did you just?’

Eddies panting so hard all he can really do is nod his head. 

‘You’re so pretty.’ He slurs, staring up at Steve, haloed and lovely and how did Eddie get so lucky?

Steve huffs and rolls his eyes, but he smiles down at him, strokes his cheek and looks at him with eyes full of stars. ‘You can go again through right?’ He asks. 

Eddie beams. ‘Fuck yeah!’ 

Steve laughs, shaking his head. He closes Eddie’s door and gets behind the wheel. Puts on his sunglasses and lays his hand on Eddie’s thigh. ‘No touching while I’m driving. Let's go break into my parents house.’ 

Eddie leans back in the headrest, grinning. ‘By break in, do you mean use the spare key?’

‘Sure do baby. They won't even be there.’ Steve says, and pulls out of the diner parking lot. 

-

Back at Steves Eddie sprawls out in his bedroom, familiar in its ugliness but the mattress has always been to die for.

Eddie listens to the sound of Steve moving through the house, not sure what he’s doing. But they’ve fallen into routines like this before, Eddie waiting upstairs while Steve did whatever it was that made a big empty house like this run smooth. He works the same magic on their apartment; structuring Eddie enough to not get overwhelmed by chores and eventually listening to Eddie’s please to not do it all himself. Steve could work himself to the bone and still ask if Eddie needed a glass of water. But now they have a chart, and Eddie’s always had a knack for laundry. 

But, at times like these, brain directly attached to his dick and almost nowhere else, Eddie wants to be directed.He wants Steve to do exactly as much as he wants, do so exactly as he pleases, Eddie almost an afterthought. 

Yeah, Eddie wants that. He shivers, hears Steves footsteps on the staircase. 

‘Unzip your jeans but don’t take them off.’ Steve says, coming into the room, searching for something. 

Eddie complies quickly, standing. Steve walks out of the room.

Steve walks back in with his shirt off. Looking Eddie up and down, face blank. 

He lifts the hem of Eddie’s t-shirt and shoves it in his mouth, saliva soaking the fabric between his teeth, cool air hitting his exposed nipples. ‘Show me.’ Steve says, calm and neutral, like Eddie is his doll to play with.

He pulls at the waistband of his boxers and his eyes burn as he watches Steve. Refusing to blink, refusing to miss the look on his face once he sees the mess. 

Steve’s eyes roam Eddie’s face for a moment, steely and almost cold. He looks down, raises his eyebrows. Eddie feels his cock twitch at the attention, at the judgment. 

Steve looks back up. ‘Look at it.’ And Eddie glances down, breath hitching at the sight of his cock covered in his own cum, some of it starting to crust but the tip still shiny and wet, leaning against the sodden fabric of his boxers. 

Eddie looks back up at Steve, sees that he watched his whole reaction. Pupils blown wide and Steve's hand has migrated up to tweak at his own nipple. Jealousy burns in Eddie’s gut; that he’s not allowed to touch Steve like that, not yet. 

Eddie whimpers again, he wants to kiss him, wants to eat him. 

‘Fuck’ Steve murmurs, like he can read Eddie’s mind. Maybe he can, or it’s just how good Steve has gotten at reading Eddie’s face.

‘Colour?’ Steve asks.

‘Super fuckin’ green.’ Eddie says around the fabric, grinning, watching Steves smile bloom right back 

‘Good’ Steve pecs his top lip. Eddie surging forward, chasing, letting the wet hem fall. 

Steve stops him with a finger on his chest. His expression smoothing back into one of mild disgust. ‘So needy.’ Steve drawls. ‘Take off everything but your boxers.’ And he’s gone again, leaving Eddie to struggle out of his clothes in a rush. 

Steve walks back in, now only in his boxers too, Eddie can see the outline of his cock through the material and it makes his mouth water. It takes him a second to register that Steve’s holding the Polaroid camera now too. 

‘Show me, like you did before.’ Steve says, fiddling with the camera, waiting. 

Eddie does as he’s told and he feels goosebumps dabble over his skin, heat rushing south so fast it makes his nipples hard. 

Steve takes a photo of eddies cock covered in his own, slightly crusted, cum. The flash taking Eddie’s breath away. 

But Steve just leaves again, without a word. Eddie stands stock still and hears the shower turn on, the faint sound of the camera again. 

Steve comes back in flapping the polaroids. He sets the camera down and walks back over to Eddie, handing him a damp wash cloth. 

‘Clean yourself off.’ He says, leaning on one hip, looking board. ‘And fold your clothes on the desk, boxers on top, they need washing.’ Eyes flashing to Eddie’s, bitchy and judgmental. Eddie moans, even more heat rushing south, his gut churning. 

But Eddie does as he’s told, ignoring the heat between his thighs, Steve’s eyes on him as he settles the clothes in a neat pile. ‘Good. Now grab a pillow and kneel down. You’re gonna watch my photos develop while I shower. That sound okay?’ He asks, condensing, but the question is laced with sweetness, infused with the knowledge that Steve knows Eddie loves him like this, loves being talked to like this. But he can end it any time. Any time either of them want. 

Eddie just nods, bites his lip, turning to the bed to grab a pillow and situate himself on the floor. 

Steve bends and lays the photos in front of where Eddie’s kneeled. Then strokes his cheek with a thumb, making Eddie preen, blinking his eyes closed slowly. 

The crack of the slap registers after the feeling, Eddie’s head turned slightly to the side. Low moan distant to his own ears. 

He blinks his eyes back open, looking up at Steve’s and his pretty face. He thinks there must be spit sliding down his chin, because Steve’s thumb comes to wipe something away, dipping into Eddie’s parted lips gently, for a moment. 

And then Steve turns swiftly for the door, stopping just at the threshold. Eddie eyes snapping back up from where they were looking at his ass and Steve’s stifles a smile. Eddie’s own growing slow and dopey on his face. 

‘You can touch, I want you hard once I’m back. But if you cum again I’m not doing anything with you for a week.’ He says and Eddie blinks at him. Nodding as the words filter through his brain. 

He closes his eyes once Steve leaves and the water turns on. Lets his fingers dance towards his cock, cheek hot and tight and he moves it at the same time he wraps around himself, shoulders hunching around another guttural moan. 

Then he remembers the photos. 

He looks down and laying in front of his bent knees there’s two polaroids. The one of Eddie is almost fully developed, his dark thatch of hair speckled with globs of his own cum, white in contrast and just as noticeable in half crusted patches over the pink flush of his cock. It’s a mess. 

Eddie works himself at the sight, getting to full hardness with a strangled gasp. Remembering Steve eyeing it, remembering what he’d said that caused Eddie to finish so quick. 

The other is still only half developed. But the photos edges are rendering sections of the familiar Harrington bathroom, white tiles and blue walls, shower curtain and the edge of the large ornate mirror. Tan skin starts to become clear, Steve’s big hand holding the camera aloft, taking his own photo using the mirrors reflection, the back of his head. 

Eddie’s hand speeds up and he watches, wide eyed, as Steve’s broad shoulders come into view, the arch and strong length of his back. Eddie bites his lip again, harder, as Steve’s back ends in his bare ass perched on the counter.

The dark ring of a plug just visible between his cheeks. 

Eddie strangles a cry, gripping himself hard at the base, stifling his orgasm and feeling tears spring at his eyes. Steve’s must’ve been wearing that all through their time at the diner, all through the day. Stretched and wet and Eddie clenches his thighs together, covers his mouth with his palm and squeezes his eyes shut. 

‘Fuck. Fuck!’ He mumbles behind his hand, breathing shakily through his nose. Steve is something else.

Finally the shower shuts off and Steve returns. Eddie still kneeling, panting heavily, cock hard and leaking between his thighs. Still coming down from the brink. Steve just smirks at him, running a towel through his hair. 

He lays down on the bed, settling against the headboard. He trails his fingers over himself, tracing his nipple and stomach before giving his cock a few tugs, getting it hard. 

Eddie watches the whole thing, hands still gripping his thighs. 

Eventually Steve’s eyes slide open, that little smirk on his face. He opens his arms for Eddie, motioning him in. 

Eddie scrambles up and into them, kissing and sucking at Steve’s neck and shoulders. Cock already grinding desperately between Steve’s damp cheeks. 

‘You liked the pictures baby?’ Steve whispers, smile in his voice, mouth hot on Eddie’s ear. 

Eddie shivers and pulls back, disbelief on his face. ‘I can’t believe you.’ He gushes. 

Steve smiles at him and his cheeks are flush from the shower, his damp hair is falling into his forehead. ‘Fuck, you’re so pretty.’ Eddie says, always always amazed by Steve. He needs him, wants to be inside. 

He grinds again, catching Steve’s hole, relishing in Steve’s eyes rolling slightly. ‘Get me wet first.’ Steve demands pulling at Eddie’s hair, shoving his head away. 

Eddie bites his lip, cock twitching, he pulls at Steve’s thighs, bending him in half. Dips low to lick a long wet stripe across his ass. Tongue pressing at Steves hole, breaching the already stretched muscle and fucking his tongue in until there’s spit sliding down Steve’s crack. 

Eventually Steve pulls Eddie off by his hair, chest all flushed and nipples hard. 

Reaching over Steve gets the condom and lube from his bedside table. He doesn’t live here anymore, hasn’t for years. But the remnants of their sneaking around before Steve up and left with Eddie and Robin are still there. He never completely fell out with his parents, but he didn’t really tell them where he was going either. They continue to essentially ignore Steve and Steve continues to sneak into their house whenever he’s in Hawkins and fuck his boyfriend in whichever room he pleases. It’s not ideal, but it works. 

‘Gonna show me what that useless cock can do?’ Steve goads, sitting up to roll the condom onto Eddie and slicking him with lube. 

Eddie whines. 

He hitches Steve’s thighs up, forcing him Back flat, hands beneath his knees. Steve sighs into the touch and Eddie watches his length get slowly swallowed by Steve’s tight, wet heat. 

Eddie bottoms out, watching his length disappear. He feels his balls draw up, ears ringing and he’s so close. He’s so close. 

The slap makes him stutter, eye wide as he stare at Steve. ‘Do not cum.’ Steve seethes, finger in eddies face, like he’s a misbehaving child. Eddie moans, gripping Steves thighs to hold himself still, breathing deeply through his nose to stave off his orgasm. 

He stays buried in Steve, willing himself back down. Panting, he feels tears prickle at his eyes again. ‘That’s it.’ Steve soothes, hand coming up to stroke over the red mark he left on Eddie’s face. 

Eddie breaths, eyes closed, feels the tendrils in his gut uncoil slightly. No longer right on the brink. 

Eventually he opens them, Steve’s eyes on him. Eddie leans down, hands either side of Steve’s face. He starts moving his hips again, building a steady pace. 

‘You should’ve touched yourself in front of her today.’ Steve says, looking up at Eddie with that closed off look again, haughty and judgmental. Eddie moans. ‘What do you think she would’ve done? If you got your stupid needy cock out in the diner, you think she would’ve laughed?’ Steve asks, voice mean and even, the only sign of arousal the flutter of his eyelashes as Eddie thrusts especially deep. 

‘Fuck Steve.’ Eddie pants, thinking about it. ‘I used to think about that while you were at Scoops’ He admits, eyes watching Steve, watching his smirk broaden. 

‘Yeah? You would’ve got your big dumb cock out on the counter for me while I scooped ice cream?’ 

Eddie’s hips stutter, he’s getting close again. ‘Yeah, used, u-used to go jack off in the bathrooms after seeing you at that mall. In that outfit. Fuck Steve, wanted you so bad.’ Eddie whines. 

Steve coos, finger trailing up Eddie’s sweaty neck. ‘Who knew the freak would be so needy’

Eddie whimpers feeling a blush spread down his chest. He moves his hips faster, wanting to get in deeper. 

Steve cracks, moaning. ‘Fuck, make me cum baby, get me there.’ Steve says, gripping his own cock now. Other hand holding him in place with the headboard. Eddie going faster, deeper, grazing that spot he knows so well inside Steve. 

Steve throws his head back, releasing all over himself with a shout, soft hair splayed across the pillow and cheeks flushed pink. Eddie slows, grinding. He’s so close again, so achingly hard he can feel his pre dripping out, filling the condom. 

‘I think I would’ve let you. Maybe Played with your cock while I worked.’ Steve pants. ‘But only if you cleaned up after yourself.’ And he scoops up some of the cum from his stomach and chest, feeding it into Eddie’s slack mouth. 

Eddie sucks, swallowing and tasting salt, flooding his mouth with saliva, some slipping out down his chin. ‘’Teve.’ He pleads, garbled. Begging for permission. His eyes wide and wet, hips unable to stop. 

‘You wanna cum baby?’ Steve asks, holding Eddie’s jaw with his spit slick fingers, fucking his own hips down onto Eddie’s cock. 

Eddie nods, whining, digging his fingers into the sheets, trying not to think about what will happen if he comes too soon. 

‘What are you baby? Are you my little freak, my little perv?’ Steve teases. 

Eddie shivers, nodding, his whole body shaking in an attempt to stave off his orgasm. Shame writhing filthily in his gut, threatening to spill. 

Steve pulls Eddie closer, kissing his cheek and letting him burrow his face in Steve’s neck. Eddie licks over his moles, wants to mark him, burrow his cock inside and never leave. ‘Thats it, my dumb thing, fucking me so good.’ Steve pets over Eddie’s hair as his hips speed up, thrusting into Steve harder, the sounds of skin slapping echoing through the house. 

‘Cum for me.’ Steve whispers, hot breath sending shivers down his back. Eddie’s rhythm turning sloppy and desperate as he thrusts deep one last time. Cumming and crying out into Steve’s neck, tears slipping onto Steve’s skin and Eddie clenches his teeth so hard his jaw cracks. 

He cums for so long he’s almost numb, shaky and boneless as he falls on top of Steve. 

Steve holds him close, threading his fingers through Eddie’s sweaty hair and whispering praise in his ear. 

Eventually Eddie moves slightly from on top of Steve, letting his softening cock slip out and his head rest on Steve’s chest. Listening to his heart beat. ‘Good boy, you’re my good boy Eddie.’ Steve says softly, threading his fingers into Eddie’s curls to massage his scalp. 

Eddie groans, boneless and satiated. ‘Was I too mean?’ Steve asks from above him. 

‘Fuck no. Made me cum my whole brain out.’ Eddie slurs, pressing his forehead between Steve’s hairy pecs. 

Steve tsks him, tugging at Eddie’s hair. The sharp pain making Eddie hiss and he sucks one of Steve’s nipples into his mouth, clamping down on top of him so he can’t wriggle away. 

‘Okay, okay! Quit it, you monster.’ Steve laughs, shoving Eddie’s face off. 

Eddie sits back in his heels, laughing, finally taking the condom off and tossing it onto the floor. ‘You want another shower before we head back to Wayne’s?’ He asks, petting distractedly at Steve’s pink hole, still shiny with lube. 

‘Ye just gimme a sec.’ Steve says, stretching, making Eddie’s fingertip slip inside. ‘And quit playing with that, what are you, a perv?’ He asks, smirking up at him. 

Eddie grins, lunging back on top of Steve and biting his shoulder. 

Steve yelps and Eddie scoops him up, carrying him bridal style to the bathroom. 

‘Oh! Stevie, remind me to put those polaroids in my wallet. I think I’ll get a lot of use out of ‘em.’ Eddie says, dumping Steve on the closed toilet and turning the shower on. 

📸 📸 📸 📸 📸

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[avoxrising]

The Feral One • Ch 10

Finnick x Y/N

Series Masterlist Link

I don’t know if I’ll have time to post tomorrow so I’m posting an extra chapter tonight. Sorry in advance for this one…

Content Warnings - Death, violence, mayhem, people get captured

After you calmed down, Finnick carried you down to the beach to spend the afternoon with the rest of the group. They all kept their distance but you were too exhausted to try anything. You ended up sleeping for the first real time in the arena.

You were asleep for so long, you woke up to find a fresh bandage on your arm and some bread from District 3 being split amongst the group. Finnick brought you some bread and water as he sat down to watch the sunset with you.

You can’t talk anymore, not even to him. It’s like your voice has run dry and nothing will come out. You don’t even know what you would say though. He seems content enough to just sit in silence with you.

Nighttime falls and the group makes the trip up to the tree again. Finnick lets you walk in front of him but he has to help you at some of the steep parts. You fight the urge to claw at him every time he touches you, despite the fact you are telling yourself that he is safe. He wouldn’t hurt you.

At the tree, Finnick helps Beetee with the wire. You sit down close by, waiting for something bad to happen. The game makers haven’t had a death in awhile.

You emerge from your thoughts as Beetee hands the spool of wire to Katniss and Johanna, instructing them to take it down to the water.

“I’m going to go with them as guard,” Peeta states.

“No,” Beetee states. “You’re too slow.”

They continue to argue a bit before Peeta relents and let’s Katniss go with Johanna. Splitting them up must be part of the plan.

They don’t question why Beetee doesn’t split you up from Finnick. He’s the only one who can control you. None of them want to go anywhere with you if he isn’t tagging along.

Finnick and Beetee are whispering to each other, putting you and Peeta on edge. What are they planning? They seem to come to a consensus when the wire goes slack. Someone must have cut it.

“Stay with her,” Finnick tells Peeta. “I’ll go find them.”

Peeta goes to protest but Finnick has already bolted off into the jungle.

“Do you think they’re ok?” he asks you.

You shake your head no.

Moments later you hear a zap and see Beetee sprawled out in the grass. He must have made contact with the force field. There’s a cut on his arm that you didn’t notice before. When did that happen?

Seeing Beetee, Peeta quickly takes off towards where the girls went, scared that you’ll be set off at any moment. A cannon goes off and all you can hope is that it wasn’t Finnick.

You can hear people yelling and screaming. People must be fighting. You’re too exposed here.

You make your decision, you have to hide before you go rogue. Bolting into the trees, you look for one that would be easy to climb. You find one a few minutes later but quickly realize that you can’t climb it with one arm. Instead, you huddle down at the base of it, hoping people will go towards the fighting and not you.

It’s minutes later when you hear the loudest boom you think you’ve ever heard in your life. Finnick is screaming for you but it must be a trap. Why would he want you to go close to the explosion?

Pieces of the arena fall from the sky and you realize this must be the plan Finnick was talking about. He must be calling you to the pickup point.

At this revelation, you start running towards him, colliding with someone in the process.

“Where’s Katniss?” an out of breath Peeta asks you. You point towards the explosion, guessing that’s where she is headed.

Peeta makes it two yards before a dart flies into his neck and sends him to the ground. You want to scream but are cut off by a sharp pain in your neck, followed by darkness.

You wake up to a white room, the cuffs digging into the bandaged cut on your wrist. The smell of this place is recognizable. You must be in a capital hospital.

The door to your room clicks open and Snow approaches with his guards.

“Miss Y/L/N,” he states. “I’m disappointed to see that not much has changed since the last time I saw you.”

You glare at him, which only makes him smile.

“Tell me what you know about the plan,” he commands. You shake your head. You really don’t know much.

Snow furrows his brows and a sudden pain flashes through you.

“Miss Y/L/N,” he states. “You know how much I value honestly. Tell me what you know about the plan.” You shake your head again and feel another pulse of pain, darkness creeping in at the corners of your vision.

“I see you’ve decided to be difficult again,” Snow chuckles. “Very well. Plan B it is.”

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[lunarmoonanons]

The Queen Mother

🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕

Visenya watches Tyrell Reader like a hawk. Never betraying whether she tolerates her or not.

🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕

Masterlist

9 years ago, Winter

Her babies were a month old now. YN had no choice in their names, but they were pretty names. Pretty names for pretty babes. Each of them named after someone important to Maegor: his father, his mother, himself. Aegon ii looked like his father, Maegor ii looked like the Queen mother, and Visenya ii looked more like a Valyrian child then one of Westeros. The fifteen year old bride wished one would look like her but it seemed she’d have to have more children if she wanted one to look like her. She already knew Maegor wanted more children. He said as much on the day of her labor, making the day that should’ve been joyous sour. Her whole pregnancy was soured by her husband. 

Her husband. She hated to think Maegor was her husband now. A man close to his thirties bedding a barely fifteen year old was not well looked upon for some people. Yes young girls married older men occasionally but most of the time they would be closer in age. And in her family her father promised each of his daughters they’s marry men close in age to them, and marry when they were eighteen. A lot of people whispered that the king was cruel to take a child from her family and marry her against her will. Many whispered the young girl still played with dolls, so how could she mother children?  

It was nighttime again, a week ago she had sent a letter to her mother. Her mother had quickly sent a letter back, full of worry and love that any mother would have for her child. She asked in her letter that YN read a little to her babies, so her the girl was sitting on her bed with her doll and her babies. Two of the babies laid on their back, and one was held close to her chest as she face the boy around to look at the letter. 

“Mommy says ‘I believe your babes are some of the most beautiful. Even though I have not seen them you’ve described them well and I’m sure I will love them if or when I see them.’ Did you hear that? Mommy says you’re beautiful.” YN said, reading off the letter. She scanned the latter half and placed the baby down next to his siblings. “This part is for me only. So you wait there.” 

She read the rest of the letter, getting more emotional at the content. Her mother spoke about needing to love your babies. That it might be hard to love them but you can never take it out on them for they did nothing but be born. She was sure her daughter loved her babies but she must protect them from their father. That she loved her so much and if she ever wanted her to, she would come to Kingslanding and be with her. It made the girl tear up and place the letter on the side table. She grabbed her doll and held it close. Getting lost in her thoughts until her little girl made noises to be picked up. 

So she grabbed the girl and held her in one arm, showing the doll to her baby and playing with the two. Bouncing the doll up and down before making it “kiss” her baby. Smiling at the coos her baby made. When her babies started to get tired and fussy, she one by one set them to sleep in their cribs that she had demanded be moved into her room. When they were all asleep, she went back and sat crisscrossed on her bed holding her doll. Smiling and playing with the carefully crafted toy. 

She focused so much on her doll she didn’t notice her room being entered, only when the person was at the foot of the bed. YN looked up and caught her breath in her throat at the sight of Queen Visenya standing there looking at her. Her hard eyes, tall stature, braided hair, mouth that stretched into a line. YN barely spoke to Visneya, she was frightened of the woman. She stood there and watched this girl shrink into herself. YN felt very small under the gaze of Visenya, no matter if it was in the safety of her rooms or the openness of the court. YN held her doll close to her chest and tried to look down so to not look in her piercing violet eyes. 

“Let me see it.” Visenya said. 

“W..What?” YN asked, holding her doll closer. 

“The doll. Let me see it.” Visenya demanded, holding out her hand. YN’s hands shook as she held out the doll from her chest and into the queen’s hand. The older woman took the doll and examined it closely. “It is well made. Expensive.”

YN nodded and wrung her hands. Looking at her doll that the woman held in her hands with worry. Would she take it away? Would she say that’s a childish thing to have and force her to give it up? Maegor didn’t mind her having the doll, though he said she should focus on motherly duties. 

“Who had it made for you?” Visenya asked. 

“My Aunt. She promised me a present for my nameday…” YN whispered. She silently begged whoever listened for the queen to give her back her doll and leave. 

Eventually, Visenya stopped examining the doll and handed it back to the girl who held it close to her chest. But her respite was short lived as the older woman grabbed her chin and made her look at Visenya’s face. She moved the girl’s head side to side while examining the younger girl’s face. Finally she let go and allowed the girl to scoot back onto the bed. 

“I never wanted my son to wed you.” Visenya revealed. “What could a child know about having children?” 

YN said nothing, feeling small and helpless under her gaze. She wanted to cover her head with her covers and hide under her blankets like she did when there would be storms when she was younger. It was her violet eyes that were the harshest. They pierced her and watched her like a hawk. She never felt so small as she did under Visenya’s eyes. Maegor made her feel small with his sheer size and strength, but his mother pierced you with her hard eyes. She could make you feel small with just a look. 

“You were, you are a child. Aegon never passed the law, but I wanted him to pass a law that a woman must be at least eighteen to marry.” Visenya sighed. She went over to where the babies were sleeping and looked at her grandchildren. “I was not as flattered as you’d think when Maegor named her after me. But she has my name so she will be trained with the sword as I was.” 

The babies slept next to their cradle eggs, all three showing cracks. Visenya had eggs placed in their cribs the day they were born. Showing great interest in her grandchildren. They were the first grandchildren her son had given her. Though she was sure Alys would provide more, this Tyrell girl had proved to be fertile at her young age. 

“I know you are frightened here. Of this place, of Maegor, of me. But you have already pleased him by giving him children. Yes you may need to do that again, but so far you have done well.” Visenya made her way closer to the girl. Placing a hand on the side of her head. Gently holding her head in her hand. “You leave Maegor with me. I won’t let him hurt you more than he has.”

With that the queen left the girl’s room, and YN let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. She held her doll close to her chest and pulled the covers over her head. Hiding under the blankets so no one could get in. She felt her chest grow in pain, the babes had nursed too hard. Everything made her chest hurt. She felt so small in the Red Keep. She just wanted to play with her doll and forget she had children. 

@gulnarsultan

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Ghostfacers | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Warnings: reader's a little traumatized by this one, angst, canon violence, canon gore, slightly NSFW (MDNI 18+ ONLY)

Word Count: 6023

Mobile Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Playlist

“Do we have to do this?” you asked Dean. 

“Unfortunately, yeah,” he replied. 

You, Dean, and Sam were heading toward the lair of “the Ghostfacers,” as they had dubbed themselves; otherwise known as the “mooks”— Dean’s words, not yours— you’d met at the Hell House in Texas. 

After exchanging some awkward “hello”s with them, you settled into lawn chairs in the Ghostfacers’ “office,” otherwise known as Ed’s parents’ garage. 

You and Dean had been to Batman Begins in theaters a few months prior, and from that experience, you knew neither of you would be capable of silence during this viewing of the Ghostfacers’ documentary. 

With Dean on your right, Sam to your left, and the Ghostfacers sitting in front of you, you turned your attention to the projector one of them had set up and aimed at the garage door. 

***

The screen faded in on Harry and Ed sitting in fancy chairs holding glasses of brandy and wearing suits. 

“Hello. I am Harry Spengler”

“And I am Ed Zeddmore. Now if you have received this tape, you must be some sort of bigwig network executive. Well, today is your lucky day, mister.”

“Because the unsolicited pilot you are about to watch is the bold new future of ‘reality TV’,” Harry continued. 

Ed hummed. “We know you've had it hard during the crippling writer's strike.”

“Lazy fat cats.”

“Who needs writers when you've got guys like us?”

Harry reached for a cheap dimmer switch. 

***

“Why wouldn’t they edit that out?” you whispered to Dean. 

“Skill issue,” Dean replied, smirking. 

***

Ed appeared on-screen, voice carrying loudly through the basement once more. “Our team faced horrible horrors to bring you the footage that will change your world forever. So strap in for the scariest hour in the history of television.”

Harry stupidly continued, “In the history of your life…”

“Strap in for…”

“Ghostfacers!” Harry and Ed disjointedly exclaimed together.

Then, a horrific theme song started playing over the introduction to each of the Ghostfacers, and, to your surprise, Sam was introduced as well. The man in question went white when his face appeared on screen. 

You snickered, but your laughter didn’t last long when you appeared next. Your name flashed across the screen in bold white letters while they played a clip of you pointing your finger in Harry’s face and yelling at him. Dean laughed at you, but again, his laughter was short-lived when he was introduced flipping off the camera, his finger censored by a weird drawing of a skull. 

You turned to him smirking, and he jokingly rolled his eyes at you. 

***

“You know,” Ed began, western music playing in the background of a shot of him and Harry walking forward, “it can get kind of hard balancing our daytime careers with our nighttime missions.”

“Yeah, but Ed and I pretty much call the shots at the Kinko's where we work, so we can usually pretty much get off by six every night?” Harry chimed in. 

***

You shot a look at Dean. 

***

The video continued. “Yeah, six o'clock. It used to be just, you know, you and I taking on the cases— just Harry and me.”

“Two lone wolves,” Harry added, his face appearing on-screen again. 

“And two lone wolves need, uh… other wolves,” Ed finished. 

***

“I can’t tell if I find their remarkable stupidity endearing or not,” you whispered to Dean. 

***

“Morning, 'facers,” on-screen Ed announced. 

“It's seven p.m., dude,” Spruce chimed in from behind the camera. 

“It's morning to a Ghostfacer,” Harry said. “Corbett, what do we got, buddy?”

“Oh, I'm just putting up some of the—” 

Ed cut Corbett off. “Yeah, this has got to go up here. That's got to go here. got to see the whole field. Markers, eraser— good job.”

Then, the video cut to Corbett introducing himself. “I first saw Ed putting up flyers down at the— the outlet mall in Scogan, so I- I read one, and I thought to myself, ‘huh. Where do ghosts come from?’ And now here I am.” He smiled awkwardly. 

“Ed, your sister's abusing staff,” Harry said, appearing back on screen.

“That's adopted sister, thank you very much,” Ed replied. 

It then cut to Maggie, the sister in question. “Ed has been obsessed with the supernatural since we were kids, y’know, and then he meets Harry at computer camp. And love at first geek.”

***

“I genuinely do enjoy her,” you whispered to Dean. 

“What, you got a crush?” he whispered back. 

“Hell, no. Harry can have her,” you said, nudging his cheek with your nose playfully. 

***

“Spruce here.” He’d turned the camera around on himself. “What up, playa?” It then cut to him driving a cart picking up golf balls. “I am fifteen-sixteenths Jew, one-sixteenth Cherokee. My grandfather is a mohel, my great-grandfather was a tallis maker, and my great-great-grandfather was a degenerate gambler and had a peyote addiction.”

It cut back to the interior of the garage. 

“Okay, people,” asserted Ed. “Let's cut the chatter and get on a mission. Okay? Morton house. One of our big fish. Alright, we all know the legend. Every four years, supposedly, this becomes the most haunted place in America.”

“The leap year ghost, some call it,” Harry added. “The ghost returns at midnight just as February 29th begins.”

“And no one has ever stayed the night, right?” Maggie chimed in. 

Harry nodded. “Yeah, well, every testimony that we dug up, every eyewitness has cut and run well before midnight.”

“Well, that's all about to change, baby,” Ed commented. 

Harry nodded proudly beside Ed. “Absolutely true, Ed. Absolutely true.”

***

Dean leaned down to you. “You think they’ve ever fucked?”

“Oh, definitely,” you answered.

***

Corbett handed Ed a coffee. “Mmm. That's good,” Ed told Harry. “It's French vanilla, 'cause the other day, you said how much you liked it, so…” Corbett cut his own rambling off. 

“Thank you.”

“You are welcome.”

Then, Harry appeared in the driver’s seat of his car. “I like Corbett. I do. Shows up early, does his job, lot of good hustle out—” Suddenly, Corbett knocked on the window of the car and waved. 

Harry awkwardly waved back. “I think he's got the hots for Ed, and that could spell trouble for the whole team.”

The camera cut back to Corbett. “Ed's kind of the more rugged, with that really golden… beautiful sort of beard. Definitely nice. Uh, and Harry's nice.”

While the antics on-screen continued, you reflected on how you’d ended up in this situation. 

***

Coincidentally, Dean had always had an interest in busting up the Morton house. According to him, it was your “Grand Canyon” as Dean called it; whatever that meant. And with Dean running out of time, you and Sam were eager to appease him. 

When you looked back at the screen, the Ghostfacers had broken into the Morton House, as had you and the Winchesters. 

You remembered seeing the van Harry and Ed had driven their friends to the house in as you approached the house with Sam and Dean. From there, you and the brothers were as silent as possible while moving into the house. 

***

Either Corbett or Ed had a camera on their head when you confronted them upon your entrance into the house. 

“This is spooky, man. This place…” Ed trailed off. 

Three flashlights appeared on screen with the three of you in shadow. 

“Freeze!” Dean demanded. “Police officers! Don’t move! Let's see some identification.”

Corbett began to panic while you and the brothers confronted them. ““What— are we under— under arrest?”

“We are unarmed!” Ed squeaked. 

“Oh, god,” Corbett mumbled, handing his wallet to you. 

For the first time, your face was visible on-screen. “What’s with the get-up, Mr…” you trailed off, reading the I.D. in his wallet, “Corbett?”

“I know you,” said Ed. 

Apparently, you’d recognized him at the same time. Still, you chose to keep up the act. “Yeah, sure. Lemme see your I.D.”

“Yeah, ho—” Ed snorted. “Whoa, hold on a second. I know all three of you guys. Yeah!”

“What?” Corbett asked. 

“Holy shit!” Sam cursed.

Dean hadn’t caught on by that point. “What?”

“West Texas,” you rolled your eyes. “The Hell House. These fuckers almost got us killed.”

“Yeah, the hellhounds or something?” Sam remembered. 

“Fuck me,” Dean sighed. 

***

Pulling your eyes from the screen, you turned to Dean. “You’ve got a face for camera. Anybody ever tell you that?”

A chuckle rumbled deep in Dean’s chest while the interaction continued on-screen. 

***

Ed had informed his friend Corbett that the three of you weren’t cops. 

Dean was asking Ed where Harry was. 

“He's running around, chasing ghosts,” Ed had told him. 

“Okay, well, listen, you and Rambo need to get your girlfriends and get out of here,” Dean grumbled. 

“Alright, listen here, chisel chest, okay?” 

You snorted at Ed’s comment, both in the video and while watching it. 

“We were here first. We've already set up base camp. We beat you.” On-screen Dean rolled his eyes, mockingly telling you, “They were here first.” He grabbed Ed’s shoulder. 

Ed’s face paled, and he said, “Oh, god.”

***

You smiled proudly at your boyfriend as you watched the video. 

***

“Where's your partner?” Dean growled in Ed’s face. 

***

Dean leaned over to whisper to you as the video continued, “You look a little uncomfortable, sweetheart, you okay?”

He had obviously noticed the way you pressed your thighs together. “Fuck you,” you whispered in response. You turned your attention back to the video. 

***

Spruce, Maggie, and Harry were poking around somewhere in the Morton House. They’d stumbled across the first of the death echoes you’d encountered that night. 

Back in the living room, Dean was interrogating Ed. “What are you doing in the Morton House, Ed— on leap year— what are you thinking?”

“We're here to spend the night, okay? It's for our TV show,” Ed scoffed. 

Sam’s eyebrows shot up as the camera turned to him. “What? Great. Perfect.”

“Yeah, nobody's ever spent the night before,” Corbett replied from behind the camera. 

“Uh, actually, yeah, they have,” you said. 

“Well, princess, we’ve never heard of them,” Harry replied. 

“Don’t call me that!” you snapped, stepping up to him. “The ones that have, haven’t lived to talk about it!”

Ed shrank away from you. “Oh, come on, I don't believe you.”

*** Dean leaned down to your ear. “Can you yell at me like that?”

You shoved his head away from yours, cheeks burning.

***

“Look: missing-persons reports going back almost half a century.” Sam was showing Ed the research on the house you’d gathered. “John Graham stayed on a dare— gone. Julie Wilkerson— gone. There are tons more. All of them came to just stay the night through, always on a leap year. The only body they ever found was the last owner, Freeman Daggett.”

“These look legit,” said Ed. 

“That’s because they are, dimwit,” you told him. 

Sam kept going. “Look, Ed, we ain't got much time here, buddy. Starting at midnight, your friends are going to die.”

Harry, Maggie, and Spruce ran into the living room screaming about the apparition they saw in their bizarre ghost-classifying nomenclature.

“Hey, aren't those the dickheads from Texas?” Harry asked Ed, suddenly noticing the three of you were in the room. 

“Alright, let's have this reunion across the street, guys,” Dean encouraged dryly. 

Harry spoke over Dean as he continued to urge them outside. “Crap. What are you guys doing here?”

Maggie pulled up footage on her laptop of the apparition which you began to pay attention to. It was of a man in a sharp, 1920s-style suit, who then got blown away by an invisible gun shot. 

You lightly hit Dean’s arm to get him to walk away from the group, and Spruce followed the three of you walking off with his camera. “Death echo, guys,” you said. 

“Think we’re off on this?” Sam asked. 

“Yeah, but what's it doing here? Did anybody get shot here?” Dean replied.

“No, not that we could find,” you told him. 

“What’s a death echo?” Spruce piped up from behind the camera. 

You sighed and turned to him. “Look, there’s a real problem here. But that ghost ain’t it.”

“What's a death echo?” Spruce repeated. 

Dean was clearly exasperated. “Echoes are trapped in a loop, okay? They keep replaying how they died over and over and over again; usually in the place where they were ganked. It's about as dangerous as a scary movie.”

“So the echo’s not our goon,” you added. “Something else is, though.”

“You're right,” Dean nodded. “Alright, we need to get out of here, guys. Come on. Let's go. Let's go. Let's go. Pack it up.”

You helped the boys shove the Ghostfacers toward the door despite their rising protests.

“Wait! Wait!” Ed shouted. “Where's Corbett?”

***

“Oh, this poor bastard,” you whispered to Dean, who shot you an empathetic look. 

***

The camera then cut to the feed rolling on the camera attached to Corbett’s head. 

“I wish to communicate with the restless spirits here,” Corbett’s voice carried through the upstairs room. Then, the camera and the lights flickered. Corbett switched on his night vision. As soon as he flipped the camera around to himself, a ghostly, looming figure appeared behind him. 

The camera cut back to the living room. 

***

“That’s not a bad editing choice,” Dean told you. 

You slapped him lightly, knowing poor Corbett’s fate. 

***

“No man left behind,” Ed was saying on the screen. 

Suddenly, Corbett’s scream echoed through the speakers in the garage. You shut your eyes and squeezed Dean’s hand, knowing the unfortunate fate Corbett had suffered. 

Ed’s face appeared on screen when you reopened your eyes. “That was Corbett.”

The Ghostfacers were making a run for the second floor while you and the Winchesters protested. 

“Guys!” Sam called. “Fuck!”

The camera cut to the remaining Ghostfacers searching for their friend among harrowing screams. 

Spruce caught sight of you searching for the missing man. “Corbett!” you called. 

“Help me!” Came his anguished reply. 

The Winchesters took Spruce and began shoving him down the stairs with the rest of his group, the camera leaving you behind. 

Dean made Spruce turn the camera off, which you thought was funny to watch back. 

Back in the living room of the Morton House, the group was panicked. They tried to search all of the camera angles while Spruce turned his camera to you and the WInchesters bickering in the corner. 

“Well, it’s 12:04, Dean,” Sam told his brother. “You good? You happy?”

“Yeah, I am happy,” Dean grumbled. 

Sam continued his mockery. “ ‘Let's go hunt the Morton house,’ you said, ‘it's our Grand Canyon’.”

“Sam, I don’t wanna hear this,” Dean responded. 

“You got two months left, Dean. Instead, we're gonna die tonight.”

“Lay off him, Sam,” you grunted as you picked up a chair and smashed it against the sealed front door as hard as you could. 

“Whoa!” Spruce cried. “What the hell is going on, guys?”

“Every door, every window, every fucking exit of this house— they’re all sealed,” you announced to the room.

“Wh— Why are they sealed?” Maggie asked you. 

Dean took over the explanation. “It's a supernatural lockdown, okay? Whatever took Corbett doesn't want us to leave, and it's no death echo. This is a bad motherfucker, and it wants us scared.”

“Or it just wants us,” Maggie suggested. 

The EMF detector somewhere off screen went wild. The camera flickered, and Harry slid up to Maggie to hold her hand. 

“Uh, guys, the camera's fritzing again,” Spruce told the group. 

“Whoa. Whoa. Guys, the EMF's starting to spike. This is a big one!” Harry said. 

“Everybody, stay close. There's something coming,” Sam instructed. 

Another apparition appeared before the camera. 

“That’s not the same echo!” you noted off-camera. 

“Multiple echoes? What the hell's going on?” Dean’s frustrated grumbling came from behind the camera. 

“Beats me,” Sam replied. 

“Hey!” you cried, waving your arms in front of the echo’s face, form visible on-camera. “Hey, man, you’re dead! Hello!”

“What’s she doing?” Harry asked the Winchesters from behind the camera. 

“It's rare, but sometimes you can shock an echo out of its loop if you can talk to the part of the ghost that's still human, but usually you have to have some kind of connection to the deceased,” Sam explained.

“You’re dead, man! Time’s up! Cross the veil, or whatever!”

The apparition flickered and turned around while the screen flickered. 

“You guys hear that?” Harry whispered into the microphone. 

You kept yelling at the ghost. “Yo, dude!” You jumped in front of it again. “You’re so very dead! Super dead! Wake up!” Suddenly a bright light appeared on the apparition’s stomach, and a train horn approached. It seemed as if the train hit the man as he flew backwards and disappeared. 

You had cowered and covered your eyes to avoid potentially being hit by whatever was heading for the death echo. 

“Where the hell did it go?” Harry asked. 

The camera cut to footage of the outside of the Morton House. 

***

“This is getting kinda painful,” Dean whispered to you. 

“Absolutely,” you replied. 

***

Back on screen, the group was following you, Sam, and Dean with the camera as you peeked around upstairs. 

“Dude, there's no records of any of this here,” Dean grumbled. “No one got shot here. Obviously, no one got run over by a fuckin’ train.”

“Stay close,” you ordered the group. 

“Did the echoes take Corbett?” Maggie asked from behind the camera. 

“Yes. No. I don't know,” Dean huffed. “We don't know what's doing what here; that's what we're trying to figure out, okay?”

“Okay, look, um, death echoes are ghosts, okay?” Sam was now close to the camera and talking into it. “Now, ghosts, they usually haunt places where they lived or where they died.”

“Except these mooks didn't live or die here,” Dean added from a few feet ahead. 

“So, what are they doing here?” Maggie asked. “Hey, give the lady a cigar.” Dean turned to the camera. “Alright, seriously, does looking at this nightmare through that camera make you feel better or something? I mean…” He trailed off, frustrated.

A string of disjointed replies ended in, “Uh, yeah. I think so.”

The smirk on Dean’s face faded. “Oh.” He kept walking forward. He led the group into a room where deer heads and kills of Freeman Daggett hung on the walls. 

“Freeman Daggett, house's last owner, officially commended for twenty years of fine service at the Gamble General Hospital.” The camera turned to Sam, holding a broken frame with a certificate inside he’d just read from. 

“He was a doctor?” you asked. 

“Janitor,” Sam replied. 

“This looks like his den. When'd you say he died— '64?” Dean chimed in. 

“Yeah, heart attack,” you nodded. 

“What are these, c-rations?” Maggie’s hand came out from behind the camera to point at a few objects around the room. 

“Yeah, army-issued, three squares; like a lifetime supply,” Dean noted. 

“God, is that all he ate?” You could almost see Maggie grimacing behind the camera. 

“One-stop shopping,” Dean quipped. 

***

“Hey,” Dean whispered as you continued watching, “this ‘Dean’ guy’s pretty funny.”

You rolled your eyes. “Egomaniac.”

***

You turned your attention back to the screen as Ed came into view. “Oh, come on, guys. This is ridiculous. I mean, how the hell is this supposed to find Corbett, huh? We should be digging up the fuckin’ floorboards right now.”

Maggie panned over to Sam. “Huh. ‘Survival Under Atomic Attack’.” He was holding a dusty pamphlet. “An optimist.”

Dean pried the safe open in the corner of the camera’s view. “Crap. Crap. Taxidermy. Okay. You said Daggett was a hospital janitor?”

You nodded. 

“Ew,” he grimaced. “Got three toe tags here: one, death by gunshots, train accident, and suicide.”

“Oh, shit,” you sighed. “Well, hello, death echoes. Their bodies ‘ve gotta be somewhere in the house, then.”

“Daggett brought the remains home from the morgue. To… play,” Dean explained to the camera. 

A chorus of disgusted sounds came from around the room of the Morton House. 

Maggie moved the camera across a mirror and clearly startled herself. Dean tried to herd her closer, and the camera landed on you and Dean standing next to Sam. Then, the camera flickered, and you were gone. 

You grimaced watching what happened to you. The room the ghost had brought you to smelled horrific, the scene was grotesque, and being in that room with Corbett… it was almost too much for you. You squeezed Dean’s hand at the memory. 

Back on the screen, Dean was frantically shouting your name. You almost smiled at the sentiment. 

“Where'd she go?” Spruce asked from behind the other camera. 

Dean picked up your dropped flashlight. “(Y/N)!” he yelled. 

The camera cut again, and as soon as it picked up, Dean was yelling for you again. Sam was, too, and the rest of the group was yelling for you and Corbett. 

The camera swung around to face Maggie and Harry. 

“God, I am so scared. I'm so scared,” Maggie said. “It's gonna be okay. It's gonna be okay, Maggie.” Harry hugged her close to him before stooping to kiss her. 

Then, the camera cut to Ed in a hallway. 

***

Dean grumbled, “Sure, my girl’s missing, but cut to a fuckin’ love story.”

You kissed his cheek. “I’m back now. All good.”

***

On screen, Ed stumbled upon Maggie and Harry. He immediately flipped out. “My best friend... and my best sister. Are you banging my sister?!”

“No! No!” Harry shouted back. 

“Hold my glasses,” Ed sneered. 

“You got it,” Spruce said from behind the camera. 

Ed jumped at Harry, albeit weakly, and the tussle carried on until Dean and Sam came to break it up. 

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Dean roared. “Cut it out! We're down by two people. (Y/N)! Sweetheart, answer me!”

“(Y/N/N)!” Sam called. “(Y/N)!”

Their voices became distant while Spruce stayed with the group recovering from the fight. 

Then, the camera cut to a night-vision camera on the table in the room you’d been brought to. 

***

You squeezed Dean’s hand tighter. 

***

The camera was lying awkwardly on the table across from Corbett.

“Corbett!” you whispered from off-screen. “Corbett, buddy, wake up!”

“It’s My Party” by Leslie Gore was playing statically in the background. 

You remembered the table in front of you had been set with a cake, confetti, and party hats. 

“(Y/N)?” Corbett whispered weakly.

“Corbett, hey, you gotta keep listening to my voice, okay? I'm right here. Stay awake,” you urged him. 

Off-screen, the ghost murmured, “Don’t listen.” He picked up a knife and moved behind Corbett. “It stops hurting, so don't worry.”

“Corbett, stay with me,” you pleaded. 

You knew at that point you were struggling against your restraints. 

“Stay with me!” your voice came from off-screen. “I’m right here, Corbett! Oh, god— no, no!”

Daggett stabbed Corbett through the throat. 

***

“I’m gonna fuckin’ kill these guys, I swear,” Dean muttered to you having watched you tear up as you relived the horror on-screen. 

“Dean, it’s fine,” you whispered back. “I’m okay now.” You sniffed. 

***

“Corbett! Where'd you guys go?” Harry called on-screen. “Dean, what are you doing?”

The camera pointed to Dean rummaging through Daggett’s belongings. “Okay, so Daggett was a cold war nut, okay? He was— he was an amateur taxidermist. He liked to slow dance with cadavers, and all he ate were c-rations, so what the hell are we looking for?!”

“Horrible little life,” Maggie commented. 

“Dean, that’s it,” Sam realized. 

Maggie turned the camera toward the younger brother. 

“He was scared!” exclaimed Sam. He took off into another room. 

Dean followed close behind. 

Another camera closer to Corbett showed you on the opposite end of the table from him. On either side of you were two rotted corpses. The smell of that horrible room would never be erased from your mind. 

“Get away from me,” you begged on-screen. You struggled even harder against your binds. 

“This won't hurt,” Daggett sing-songed. “It's okay. It's okay. Relax. Relax.” He strapped a party hat onto your head. 

The camera cut to Corbett, who was slumped over dead at the other end of the table. 

***

“I swear, I’ll never forget what that looked like,” you whispered to Dean, referring to what Corbett’s corpse looked like six feet away from your face. 

***

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Where are you going?” Maggie asked from behind the camera, the video having cut back to Dean and Sam. 

“Guys like Daggett back then, the ones who were really scared of the Russians,” Sam explained, “they built bomb shelters.”

“I'm guessing he's got one. I'll bet you it's in the basement,” Dean added. 

Suddenly, Dean and Sam were cut off from Harry, Ed, and Maggie while Spruce was with them.

Dean yelled from behind the door, “It wants to separate us! Ed! listen to me! There's some salt in my duffel. Make a circle and get inside.” The group did as they were told despite some minor miscommunications. 

Spruce’s camera showed Sam and Dean running down the basement stairs. 

The camera cut back to the Ghostfacers getting in the salt circle. 

“Harry, listen— listen to me, okay? listen. If we don't die... it's totally okay if you, uh, do my sister,” Ed told Harry. 

Maggie pushed Ed from behind her camera. 

“Ow!”

The camera flickered again. 

“Hey guys, hey guys, it's coming again,” Maggie said. 

The group huddled together as the lights continued to flicker around the Morton House, but Corbett appeared in front of them. He was bloody, the wound gnarly and gushing. 

“Oh,” Ed muttered. “Corbett.”

Cutting back to Spruce, he had a question for Sam. “Hey, can I ask you something?” “What?” Sam asked. 

“Earlier, you said he has three months left?” 

“Yeah,” Sam nodded. “A while ago—” Dean cut him off. “No, no, no. We’re not gonna whine about our fuckin’ problems to some shitty reality show. I’m gonna do my fuckin’ job.”

“Is it cancer?” Spruce asked after a moment. 

“Shut up,” Dean growled. 

“You hear that?” asked Sam, shushing Spruce and Dean. 

The camera cut back to you. 

“I've been waiting for some more friends. I get lonely. But you're coming to my party, aren't you?” Daggett asked you, his melodic voice haunting. 

You were crying by this point and trying to get to the dagger in your jacket sleeve. “Dean, help me!” you screamed, voice raw. 

Dean squeezed your hand and traced circles on it with his thumb. 

“Is that music?” asked Spruce, the video returning to Dean and Sam.

“Yeah, it's coming from behind this wall,” said Sam. 

Dean shoved a cabinet away from the wall single-handedly. 

“Wow, you're strong,” Spruce commented. 

Dean flipped the camera off. 

***

You laughed, but your joy was soon cut off by the camera returning to you. 

***

“You’ll stay a good, long time,” Daggett sang, tracing your chin with his hand. 

Then, Dean burst through the door to the bomb shelter. “(Y/N)!” He shot at Daggett while Sam untied you. 

You hugged Sam briefly before throwing yourself into Dean’s arms. He hugged you close to him and buried his face in your hair. 

Spruce panned his camera around the room to reveal the other guests at the party and Corbett, the new addition. 

“Oh, no, Corbett,” Spruce sighed. 

Back in the living room, Ed, Harry, and Maggie were still in the salt ring. The group realized the poor man was now a death echo. 

The camera cut back to you, Spruce, Sam, and Dean. 

“What's this Daggett guy's problem anyway?” Spruce asked you. 

“Loneliness,” you said. 

“What, he's never heard of a Realdoll?” Dean scoffed.

“Shut up,” you snorted. “He’s the… Norman Bates, stuff-your-mother kind of lonely. He threw himself a party, and the corpses he stole were the only ones that would come. If he wasn’t so scary, I think I’d feel bad for him. Anyway, so, at midnight, he sealed them in the bomb shelter and O.D.’d on horse tranqs upstairs.”

“How do you know this?” Sam asked. 

“He told me,” you replied. 

“Jesus,” Sam murmured. 

“Okay, so now that he's dead, what? Same song, different verse, trying to get people to come to his party?” Dean wondered aloud. 

“Pretty much, yeah. Stay forever,” Sam nodded. 

Spruce paused and pointed the camera down to Sam’s and Dean’s guns. “Are those real bullets?”

“It’s rock salt,” replied Dean. 

In the living room, Harry was quietly singing the Ghostfacers theme song to himself. Corbett kept coming in and out of view.

“We gotta try and pull him out of his loop. We have to,” Ed mumbled, more to himself than the others. 

Ed stood to face Corbett. 

“Ed?” Harry asked. 

“Corbett. Corbett, it’s— Oh, god.”

“Don't cross the line of salt,” Harry insisted. 

“I gotta do it, Harry.” He hesitated but stepped over the line of salt. “Corbett, listen to me. Okay, I'm not gonna hurt you. Listen. Listen. Oh, god. Corbett. Oh.”

“Get back!” Harry told his friend. 

Corbett started to flicker, and Ed quickly moved back into the circle. 

***

“This is such crap, (Y/N), they’re profiting off this guy’s death,” Dean whispered. 

“Cool it, okay? I’ll handle it,” you said. 

***

On the video, Dean was trying to break down the basement door still separating you, the Winchesters, and Spruce from the others. 

Sam turned to face the camera. “Seriously, you’re still shooting?”

“It makes him feel better. Don't ask,” Dean responded, out of breath. 

The video continued to show the Ghostfacers trying to snap Corbett out of it by playing into the crush he had on Ed while you and the brothers were fending off Daggett in the basement. 

Harry convinced Ed to pretend to be in love with Corbett to snap him out of it. 

Hesitantly, Ed stepped out of the circle again. “Corbett, look. Hey, it's just Ed, buddy. It's just me. Hey, hey, Corbett, listen to me. Listen to me. I— You meant... Corbett, you meant a lot to the team. You meant— You meant a lot to me. You know, never back down. I remember that, Corbett. I- I remember that. I remember because I love you, Corbett. I really, truly love you.”

“Hey,” Corbett said. “Ed?”

“Yeah. Yeah, Corbett, it's…” Ed trailed off, surprised by what he’d been able to do.  “Corbett, yeah, it's me. It's me. look at me. You got to help us, man. you have to help us, Corbett. Please. please. Please help us right now.”

The camera cut back to the basement where you and Sam were holding shotguns and Dean was continuing to try and break down the door. Suddenly, Daggett appeared behind Dean. 

“Dean, look out!” you screamed, shooting at Dagget. You missed, and your gun clicked to let you know you were out of rocksalt. “Fuck!” 

Dean went sailing past your head into the wall, followed by Sam, and then Daggett kept stalking forward to you and Spruce. 

Suddenly, Corbett appeared behind Daggett. In a flash of blinding light, both spirits were gone. 

Spruce turned the camera toward you running to Dean and Sam on the floor. 

“You okay, guys?” you asked them, helping them sit up. 

Dean picked himself up, dusted himself off, and shoved the camera to point toward the floor. 

***

You laughed at his sourpuss attitude.

***

The epilogue showed you and the Winchesters bidding the others goodbye with Ed voicing over the background. “Leap year, February 29th, the Morton House. A tragic day. A day of souls bound in torment, of lives held in cruel balance. But the Ghostfacers, they did the best that they could.”

“We lost a beloved friend, but we gained new allies,” Harry continued. 

It then cut to the two in their suits again. 

“We know this much: that every day, including today, is a new beginning. We learned more than we can say in the brutal feat of the Morton House.” 

***

Ed’s dramatic, phony voice was making you angry given the situation. 

“You’re tense,” Dean whispered to you. “Relax.”

***

“You know, Corbett, we just— we just like to think that you're out there, watching over us,” Ed was saying back on-screen. 

“As far as we're concerned, you're not an intern anymore. You have more than earned full Ghostfacer status. Plus, it would be cool to have a ghost on the team,” Harry added. 

“And here we were thinking that, you know, we were teaching you and all this time you were teaching us, about heart, about dedication, and about how gay love can pierce through the veil of death and save the day. Thank you, Alan J. Corbett.”

“Go well into that starry night, young Turk. Go well,” Harry finished. 

The camera cut to a clip of Corbett, and you were genuinely saddened for the sweet young man. 

“Come on, Spruce, I gotta get all this stuff packed up!” he was saying to his friend. 

“So, pack and talk!”

“I don't know what to say.”

“Say what comes to mind. This is one of our confessional moments, Corbett, so confess,” Spruce pressed. “What did you think was going to happen tonight? What do you think is going to happen on this trip?”

“I think tonight, I really do, I think all of our dreams are going to come true. Does that sound stupid?” Corbett smiled. 

“Kind of does, yeah.”

“In Memory of Alan J. Corbett, 1985-2008 King of the Impossible,” flashed across the screen, and the video ended. 

***

Genuinely, you and the WInchesters were stunned. 

All of the Ghostfacers stood and turned toward you, prompting the three of you to stand as well. 

“So, guys, what do you think? Are you alright?” Ed asked. 

“You know, I kind of think it was half-awesome,” Dean nodded dryly. 

You fought a smirk off your face at the thought of the snarky comment that was sure to follow.

“Half-awesome? That— that's full-on good, right?” Maggie rushed out happily. 

Sam nodded and spoke evenly. “Yeah, um, I mean it's bizarre how you all are able to honor Corbett's memory while grossly exploiting the manner of his death. Well done.”

In the meantime, you discreetly left a backpack under the computer table. You knew Dean was the only one who’d caught sight of you and that he’d have some questions for you later. 

“Corbett gave his life searching for the truth, and it's our job over here to share it with the world,” Ed told the two brothers. 

“Right. Well, um, our experience, you know what you get when you show the world the truth?” Sam continued. 

“A straitjacket. Or a punch in the face. Sometimes both,” Dean added. 

“Oh come on, guys, don't be 'facer haters just because we happen to have gotten the footage of the century,” Harry protested. 

“You got us there.” Dean held his hands up in surrender. 

“Alright, c’mon, guys. We gotta hit the road,” you said, walking past the brothers toward the door. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, where you goin’, dollface? We didn’t really have much time to, uh, rekindle our connection,” Ed awkwardly flirted, chasing after you. 

You scoffed. “ ‘Our connection’? What the fuck are you—”

Dean got between you and Ed. “We’re leaving now.”

Ed backed off immediately. “Yeah! Yeah, okay. You, uh—”

“Shut up already, will you?” Dean grumbled, leading you out of the door with a hand on the small of your back. 

“Bye, guys,” Sam told them. 

As Dean led you away from the house, Sam turned to you. “What’d you do? We clean?”

You stopped by the door of the Impala, smirking when you heard someone— possibly Ed— scream, “N0!” in the distance. 

“Electromagnet. Every tape and hard drive they have is clean,” you grinned. 

Sam mockingly sighed, “The world just isn't ready for the Ghostfacers,” as he ducked down into the car. 

“It's too bad. I kinda liked the show,” Dean remarked, closing his door after settling in his car seat. 

“It had its moments,” Sam noted. 

“That theme song is abhorrent though,” you chimed in. “And a total ear worm.”

Dean chuckled. “Yeah, that’ll be stuck in my head for at least the next hundred miles.”

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

[quietblueriver]

Because I can't imagine Imogen was ready to let that moment in the basement go, some quickly written Southern Gothic angst/love/comfort set between their nighttime excursion and Imogen's visit to the temple the next day. Light spoilers for ep. 77.

-

When the door closes, the sounds of Fearne’s hoofs fading down the hallway, Imogen turns quickly to her pack, doing what she can to look busy as she shuffles clothes and tries to catch her breath. She needs a minute. She needs more than a minute. She needs…

“Imogen.” 

It’s loving and soft, because of course it is, because it’s Laudna, but it’s also…she’s doing that thing she does sometimes, where she acts like Imogen doesn’t know what she wants. Like Imogen is too young and too naive to understand. The same tone she used in the basement. Promise me. 

As if Laudna wouldn’t burn the world down for her. As if they don’t both know it. 

It’s not the first time she’s dealt with this bullshit. Laudna gets to be passionate and protective and fierce in her love (I would murder everyone around us if anything happened to you) but Imogen is supposed to pretend like Laudna’s life is worth less to her, to the world. Supposed to somehow just…let Laudna go. Because what? She’s a little bit dead? A little bit different? Imogen leveled a city block without conscious thought and nobody’s trying to put her down like a rabid dog, so why does everybody act like that bitch Delilah makes Laudna’s life irrelevant? Why does Laudna act like her life doesn’t…like Imogen should just be able to…

Her veins crackle, shoulders so tight they rival Ashton’s, and when the sound of Laudna’s boots stepping closer reaches her ears, she says, sharp and unyielding, “Not now.” 

The steps halt immediately, the room quiet aside from the settling fabric of Laudna’s skirt and Imogen’s heaving breath. 

“I’m…I really am sorry, darling.” 

Her body moves before her brain can stop it, eyes bright and anger flaring as she turns fast enough to surprise them both. Laudna is running her eyes up and down Imogen’s body a bit frantically, like she’s working out a puzzle, and it’s not fear, but it’s a close enough cousin that Imogen sees a flash of her daddy, hard eyes turned on Imogen in the barn after one of the foals got out. The shame is enough to temper her, but it means all the rest of it comes up instead: anger, still, but hurt and fear and the deep grief that lingers in the corners of her dreams, in the desperate way she sometimes holds to Laudna. 

“For what?” Her voice breaks, but she shakes her head again as Laudna holds out a hand, so Laudna drops it, fists her skirt nervously instead. “Why are you sorry?”

There’s genuine confusion on her face as she says, “For everything in the basement. I know…I know how it must have seemed, when my form of dread looked so much like her. I know it can’t have been pleasant to watch me lose control that way. Being there just…” 

Imogen holds her hand up, light licking up her fingertips, and Laudna’s words trail off, her eyes caught on the lightning running through Imogen’s scars, worry furrowing her brow. Imogen forces down the impulse to comfort. She’s started this conversation, and she needs to finish it. For the both of them. If she lets herself get close enough to run a thumb over the crease between Laudna’s eyebrows, to hold the hand still playing with the material of her skirt, that’ll be it. So she doesn’t, focuses instead on the memory of Laudna’s hands in hers in that room. Promise me. 

“I’m not mad ‘cause you looked like her, Laud. Or ‘cause you…I know what that place was to you, an’ I can’t imagine what it must have felt like for you to be there again. You don’t,” she works to keep the frustration from seeping into her words, “you don’t have to keep apologizin’ for her. You’re not her, Laudna, even though everybody keeps actin’...you keep actin’ like you are.”

She crosses her arms tight across her chest and stares at the floor, blinking hard as her vision blurs with tears. 

“I know I’m not her. I know that, darling.” 

The toes of her boots come into Imogen’s line of sight and she doesn’t tell her to stop but she does back herself up, pressing as hard as she can into the table behind her and wincing slightly as a sharp corner digs into her skin. The boots come no further. 

“Do you? Because it feels like you…” She uncrosses her arms to wipe her palms swiftly across her cheeks. “It feels like you’re just waitin’ on her to take over. Waitin’…” Her voice cracks again, and she grabs behind her, finds the handkerchief sitting beside her pack and brings it to her face. 

“Imogen.”

She shakes her head fiercely, forces a deep breath and then looks up to meet Laudna’s eyes, fist clenched around damp fabric. “Waitin’ to leave.”

Laudna takes half a step forward and stops as Imogen tries to back up further, managing only to dig the corner of the table further into her flesh and guarantee herself a bruise. Laudna’s going to gnaw through her lip, Imogen can already tell, and there’s black pooling at growing nails, ichor waiting to be pulled between nervous fingers. Still, Imogen holds the line, appreciates the distraction of pain, the sturdy wood that won’t yield to her body’s pressure. 

“I don��t want to leave, darling. I don’t want to leave you. I’m not giving up. I promise.” 

Promise me. Her eyes shine, anger forcing its way to the front of her mind again, and Laudna begins to say something, but Imogen beats her to it, words cutting.  

“Oh, do you? Promise? Should I go get Fearne, then? So there’s a witness?”

“Imogen, what…”

“Is it…d’you think I’m so out of line that…or maybe so ridiculous? So naive that…” Her scars burn now, heat across her skin and in the tears pressing against the corners of her eyelids. They continue to leak despite her best efforts, tracking down her cheeks until Imogen brings the yellow fabric of the handkerchief back to her face, letting her eyes slide closed for a moment. 

When she opens them again, Laudna looks stricken, her body fighting its instinct to close the distance between them, frozen in the face of Imogen’s obvious desire for space. 

She presses out through the thickness in her throat, voice rough, “You made me…you made me promise to…in front of Fearne, Laud. Did you…how was that fair? What was I supposed to do, when she was right there? Are you…are you that scared to talk to me about it? You think I’m that…that absurd, that you needed somebody else there to…to keep me in line?” Imogen laughs bitterly, and shrugs. “I mean, I guess I get it. I’m standin’ here provin’ your point, yeah?” She ducks her head and stares at the worn leather of her boots, breath shaky as shame heats her face. 

“No. No, of course not. Imogen. That’s not…” 

Darling, can you look at me? Please? 

She does, because Laudna asks her to, but even as their eyes meet, Imogen’s jaw aches as she holds herself together, shuts herself off, refuses to give up any more of herself. She can’t bring herself to deny Laudna’s request, but she doesn’t force herself to vulnerability. Not now. It’s strange, to put up her walls this way with Laudna, but it’s Laudna who has hurt her this time. 

Laudna, whose black eyes are nearly as wide now as they are when she transforms, full of concern and confusion and a love obvious enough that it makes Imogen grind her teeth in resistance. 

“I’m so sorry, Imogen. I didn’t realize…” Her lips are black with ichor and her hands are in constant motion at her sides, strings of black magic expanding and contracting as she fidgets. “I thought it would be…You were…you were so alone, last time. I thought maybe, if you had Fearne, if she knew what I wanted…what I wanted for you…Imogen, I don’t want you to have to carry it alone. Not again. That’s all, darling. I don’t think you’re absurd. Of course I don’t. I wasn’t trying to…to trick you. Or trap you. I would never. Please.” 

The pleading tone makes no dent in the wall Imogen has put up, is nothing in the face of the voice in her mind, reminding her of Laudna’s words in the basement, the look on Fearne’s face. I’m quite literally a dead end. Promise me. 

“Why are you so sure I’ll have to carry it at all? Why are you so sure she’s gonna win?” 

The tears are constant and furious, dripping unchecked down her cheeks, and she hates it, hates feeling this exposed, but she forces herself to keep her head up, to hold Laudna’s gaze. 

“Imogen.” 

The same tone–love, yes, but something far too close to pity for Imogen to let it lie. 

“No. No. I’m not stupid, Laudna. I know what you are. I’ve been in your mind, remember? I’ve seen her there. I’ve known since the day we met that you were different, and I still…I fell in love with you, knowin’ full well what you are and what that means. I’ve seen your form of dread, seen your body split open. 

The curtains on Pate’s house are made from my old shirt. Your hound has laid its drippin’ head on my lap. For fuck’s sake, Laudna, I slept next to your dead body. Your truly dead body. An’ I sleep next to you every night. Have for years and will for as many more years as I’m alive, if I have anythin’ to say about it. 

I love you, want you, all of you, and you know that. I’m not quiet about it. So why do you keep actin’ like I’m gonna wake up one day and be surprised by what you are? Why the fuck do you keep callin’ yourself a dead end?” 

“Because I am one, darling.” It’s sad, and resigned, and there is ichor dripping down her cheeks now, thick tracks left on pale skin. “I don’t want her to win, my love. I don’t. Please believe me. But I have to be realistic. For me. For the both of us.

And Imogen, even if she doesn’t win…

I love you so very deeply. More than I’ve loved anyone or anything in any of my lives. But I am dead. I’m not meant to be here, and you deserve someone who can…who can live, really live, with you. You deserve everything, and I can’t give you that.”

Bullshit. It’s bullshit. The part of her that understands why, understands what Laudna’s been through and the demons that pull at her, whisper to her, the part that drives her almost always, that keeps her soft–it’s gone, lost for the moment to a lifetime’s worth of hurt, of being abandoned or tolerated, never quite good enough for love. 

She aches as she spits out, voice as hard as it ever has been with Laudna, with anyone, “If you don’t wanna be with me, you can just say it. You can just…” She shudders, hardens. “Just stop pretendin’ you’re doin’ this for my sake, alright? It’s insultin’ to the both of us. If you don’t want me, just say so.”  

“Imogen.” 

She can’t do it, not anymore, so she turns to the table behind her, grips the edges as her body shakes. She clenches her jaw until she’s overcome, until a sob escapes, loud and ugly and broken, and then Laudna’s arms are around her waist, cool lips and cool breath against the shell of her ear, “Imogen. Darling. My love. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. There’s nothing I want more than to be with you. I’m trying. I promise I’m trying. I don’t want her to win. I don’t want to leave you. Ever.” 

She turns and buries her face in Laudna’s neck, her own arms wrapped around Laudna’s fragile ribs as tightly as she can manage without hurting her. A hand buries itself in her hair, nails scratching against her scalp as she’s held close. 

“I’m sorry, darling. I’m sorry. Come sit with me? Please?” 

She nods into Laudna’s shoulder, body still shaking, and Laudna hums as she holds her for another minute, pressing kisses to her temple before pulling away just enough to grab Imogen’s hands and lead them both to the bed. They settle across from each other, Laudna holding one of Imogen’s hands between them as she brings the other to Imogen’s face, pressing two fingers gently against her chin until their eyes meet. 

“I’m sorry.” 

She’s so sincere, so unfailingly honest, and Imogen fights against the urge to duck her head again, ashamed and sheepish. 

“No, Laud. I’m sorry. That wasn’t fair. That wasn’t…I know you love me and I know you’re tryin’. I do. I’m just…I’m scared. I lost you once and I can’t…I don’t think I can do it again. And sometimes it feels like you think it’s an inevitability, that you’re gonna leave me. That she’s gonna…

And I get it. I do. I can’t imagine how hard it must be to have her with you, to know she’s there all the time. But to have you ask me to…to let you go? To move on? To be happy? With Fearne right there like it was…What would you say, if I asked you to do that? Could you promise me?” 

Laudna flinches at the thought, her head almost unconsciously shaking in denial. 

“I know I…I know I’ve said some things. About Predathos and Ruidus and what it might take, what I might have to give up. But I hope you know I don’t…I’m not bankin’ on that, Laud. I don’t want it. Especially not now. Not when we…” She brings Laudna’s hand to her mouth and kisses her palm, her wrist, her knuckles. “I want you.” 

Laudna rocks forward, kissing Imogen fiercely, catching her bottom lip with sharp incisors and settling a hand possessively against Imogen’s throat. 

I want you, too. I’ve never wanted anything like I want you. 

Imogen lets herself be pressed back into the bed, sighs as Laudna trails her mouth across her jawline, bites at the lobe of her ear before making her way down to her collarbones, nipping and soothing with a cold tongue. 

I don’t want to leave you. I never want to leave you. 

A hand drags at the fabric of her dress, pulling up and up until nails run sharp against the skin of her thighs, fingers moving until a palm presses against her hipbone, holding her down as Laudna’s mouth finds hers again. 

Let me show you, darling. Let me show you how much I want you. Please. 

Later, tucked into the stupidly nice bed, with Imogen’s head resting on her chest, Laudna says, “It’s still difficult for me to believe that you want me. That you’d give up a normal life for me.” Imogen runs her palm over Laudna’s ribs, waits quietly. “Selfishly, I want you to, even though it…it’s not what I want for you. You deserve so much more, so much better than what I can…” Laudna squeezes at Imogen’s arm before she can object, and Imogen snaps her jaw shut. “Thank you, love.” She feels the press of lips against her hair. “I understand why you were angry with me. I…I would be, too, if you tried to tell me to leave you. To live without you. Even if I knew you were doing it for good reasons, as you undoubtedly would be. 

I know you want to be with me, even if I don’t understand why. Even if I worry that I can’t give you what you deserve. I’m sorry that I keep trying to take that choice from you. I'm going to try to do better. I promise.

And as for me…I want you, Imogen. I want to be here, with you. And if I’m lucky enough that you want me, too, well. Please believe me when I say I have every intention of trying my hardest to stay.” 

Imogen pushes herself up to kiss the sharp point of her chin, the corner of her mouth. 

“I love you. I wanna live my whole life with you. A stupidly long and real happy life. And anybody who tries to get in the way of that is gonna have a real hard time of it. You hear me?” She’s not talking to Laudna, and they both know it. “I’m gonna fight for you, Laud. And I’ve been told I’m real capable.” 

She kisses her again, and again, until eventually they settle, Laudna’s breath evening out slowly the way it does in sleep, muscle memory stronger than the reality of her undeath. While she sleeps, Imogen plans. She might be capable, but she’s also owed a few favors, knows how to make sure she’s owed a few more. She’s never really prayed before, but she can learn. For Laudna, she can do a whole lot more than that. 

[sashaisready]

This Must Be The Place: Chapter 15 - Hit me on the head

Biker!Bucky x Femme Reader

Back at your beloved late grandmother's home to pack up her house, you have a run-in with the town's biker gang 'The Howling Commandos' and find yourself entangled with the metal armed President.

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Nothing I don't think? Some angst!

Hi again! Sorry a bit of a shorter chapter as the next one is quite long and I'm still fiddling around with the dialogue. Also...sorry for making Peter Q the bad guy...I don't know why that happens often in my fics hehe.

You sat in the car considering your options. Too far to walk home, especially at night by yourself. Too far to walk back to Peter’s – not that you’d want to, anyway. God, no.

You caught yourself replaying the events of what had happened with him and screwed your eyes shut. Not now. Leave that in a box for the time being, concentrate on getting home first.

You tried to pull up a mental map of the area in your mind, but you didn’t really know it well enough beyond the way back to Granny’s place and the fuzzy outline of everything else. You were pretty sure there was a gas station not too far from here that would surely let you call a tow or Wanda, but you weren’t sure of the exact direction it was in, and you didn’t want to set off the wrong way in the dark by yourself.

You got out of the car and popped the hood, trying to use the dim light of the nearby streetlamp to illuminate the inside. You attempted to fiddle with a few things, but the poor visibility and your limited knowledge of engines meant you didn’t get far. Everything ‘looked’ as it should…in the dark at least...so you sighed heavily as you admitted defeat and slumped back inside.

After running through every possibility, including hitchhiking (too murdery) and trying to push Sally a little to see if that nudged the engine (too superheroy), you got out of the car briefly and wandered down the road in both directions to see if you could find any signs of life – but there was only the occasional car in the distance, too far away to notice you, and the sounds of the interstate nearby.

Sally’s digital radio said it was 11pm and you accepted the best option you had was to camp out here for the night, then regroup when the sun came up. You would set off to find the gas station, maybe try flag a passing car to use their phone. It wasn’t ideal, but it was all you had.

Fortunately, you had a blanket and old hoody stashed in the trunk, so you splayed across the backseat and attempted to get yourself as comfortable as you could. You kicked off your heels and wrapped yourself up. You laid in the dark, stifling a derisive chuckle as you thought about how ridiculous this all was. Your body already pulsed from the discomfort of your position and the dinner from earlier felt heavy and acidic in your stomach. But you did your best to ignore it all, closing your eyes and hoping to catch at least a few hours of sleep.

*

You must’ve somehow drifted off as sometime later you were awoken by something. Your eyes blearily focused as your initial confusion cleared and you grimly remembered where you were. You couldn’t see the car’s clock from this angle, clueless as to what time it was.

You heard a noise, a loud hum that seemed to be getting closer. That must’ve been what woke you.

You sat up, groaning at the stiffness of your limbs as you wiped the condensation from the back passenger window and peered outside – finding nothing but darkness. It was still nighttime, you leaned over the seat and saw on the radio it was a little after midnight.

The humming noise was getting louder and louder, it sounded like a lawn mower…or a chainsaw. You couldn’t make sense of it. It felt familiar but you couldn’t place it in your sleepy haze. Groggily, you pressed your face to the glass as your brain caught up.

You saw it then, the bright light that illuminated the road and Sally as the noise became deafening, and you suddenly understood.

A headlight.

A motorcycle.

The bike came to a sudden stop in front of the car and the noise ceased, causing you to sit up sharply and check the doors were locked. You unsteadily shrank back under the blanket as a figure approached the car. Was that…?

“Sugar?” called the voice as the figure moved around the car, muffled through the window glass but still unmistakeable. “Is that you?”

“B-Bucky?” you croaked in surprise as he came into view, squinting as he shined his phone torch through the windows at you.

Relief flooded you as you saw him lean over and squint as he looked in, his face concerned and confused.

Thank God for that!

But your feeling of respite soured as embarrassment surged. As grateful as you were…why did it have to be him of all people? Even another member of the MC would’ve been fine, although you knew beggars couldn’t be choosers. You were still furious with him, still wounded by his earlier betrayal, and now here you were – intensely vulnerable and desperate for his help. You hated that he would now have this over you, that you had no choice but to lean on him.

But you did have a choice, even if it wasn’t the right one.

He knocked on the window, “Sugar? I was just passing saw Sally parked up. What’s going on? Are you alright? Did you break down?”

You turned away, mortified.

“Sug? Open up. I can help”.

“No…” you said quietly.

“What?”

“No!” you snapped, loud enough for him to hear. “Leave me alone, Bucky. I don’t want your help…”

“Sug…”

“No!” you shouted again, unable to stop the tears from falling. “I said no! I’d rather take my chances by myself”, your voice was shaky.

You knew you were being wholly unreasonable. But you couldn’t help it. After the night you’d had, how tired you were, you simply didn’t have the bandwidth to add him to the mix and ‘owe’ him this favour.

“You’re being ridiculous…this is stubborn even for you,” he chastised, “C’mon. You’re sleeping in your car on the side of a road miles from home, for fuck’s sake. Just open up. And what’s happened to your face…?” He paused, softening as he watched you through the glass, “Look…it’s not safe out here, let me help you”.

You frowned at his admonishment despite knowing he was right. You could go home! Help was right there! You were being a stubborn baby! You were drowning at sea, and someone had thrown you a life preserver!

But why did it have to be that person who found you, of all the 7.9 billion human beings on the planet?

Even in your worked up state you knew full well you were acting insanely, logic was not winning out.

“No! I’m still mad at you, and I’m always gonna be mad at you…” you scoffed childishly.

He exhaled in frustration, pressing his hand against the glass as he looked at you defeatedly. “Sug…”

You turned away from him fully, burying yourself under the blanket and trying to stifle your sobs.

“Okay…” he sighed, “Have it your way”.

You laid perfectly still, keeping your eyes shut and hoping to somehow skip all of this and get straight to morning. After a few minutes you peeked out, but Bucky was gone. You weren’t sure why you felt a faint glimmer of disappointment, as he’d done exactly what you asked him to, but today wasn’t a day of rational emotions. Thankfully, tomorrow would bring a new day. Maybe you’d be a little more sane by then.

Your eyelids weighed heavily as you settled back across the seats, and rest finally came.

[breannasfluff]

“Mr. Hero! Come on!”

“Ravio, it’s freezing out. It’s winter! There’s snow!”

“Yes, but you need to see this!”

Legend stands, hands on his hips, and glares at the merchant. “I have to put on snow clothes.”

“Just boots!” Ravio has a full robe; he’s got no room to talk. 

“I’ll freeze.”

“I’ll walk close to you.”

With an exasperated sigh, the vet goes to pull on his boots. Why he gives into Ravio’s whims is a mystery. Certainly not because he likes him, or anything. 

The nighttime chill is enough to make him lunge for the safety of the house. 

“Oh no,” Ravio says, catching his hand. “Come on, buddy. We don’t have to go far.”

Legend is distracted from escape by the feel of his fingers twining in Ravio’s. If he rubbed his thumb, he could trace the merchant’s knuckle. He doesn’t. 

Ravio pulls him down the slope of the house and up the hill on the other side. He doesn’t let go of the vet’s hand, even when he slips. 

Panting, they both make it to the top. 

“Now look at this!” Ravio drops his hand and throws his arms wide, spinning in a circle. He’s a showman, through and through. 

Legend looks around. The faint moonlight sets the snow glittering. The air holds the unique smell of snow and winter; so hard to pin down. And overhead—

Oh. This is what Ravio wanted him to see. 

The sky is a blanket of stars; more than he normally sees. Maybe the cold of the air makes them more visible. Maybe he just appreciates them more when he’s freezing. 

The merchant moves right up behind him and wraps his arms around Legend, who stiffens. 

“Relax, you’re shivering.” Warm hands wrap over his chilled ones. “Look at it all. Isn’t it amazing?”

It is. Yet somehow, Legend finds himself focusing not on the sky, but on Ravio. His steady breaths against his back. The way his robe pools over their hands, keeping away the chill. 

The vet tilts his head back, resting it on Ravio’s shoulder. The merchant still stares at the stars. It could be a trick of the light, but they seem to reflect the sky. Constellations caught in his eyes, framed by long lashes. A world Legend could get lost in, if only he let himself. 

Ravio looks down, which isn’t very far with Legend’s head on his shoulder. “So? What do you think?” His breath is warm as it brushes the vet’s cheek. 

“It’s…beautiful.” Ravio is beautiful. And amazing, and caring, and charming. Annoying and stubborn in turns. Flawed, yet perfect in the imperfection. 

“I know some stories about the constellations. They were harder to see in Lorule, but we share some common ones. Did you know I chose my name from one of those tales?”

Only…Legend isn’t listening. He tuned out the words and focuses only on the merchant’s lips. Plush and full, pulled into a pretty pout as he realizes the vet isn't listening. 

Maybe it’s the stars glittering overhead. Maybe it’s the winter chill, pushing rational thought from his mind. Maybe Legend wanted this for a long time but never acted. 

Because when Ravio tilts his head closer to ask a question, Legend turns his head as well and captures his lips in a kiss. 

The merchant freezes. 

He’s not letting this stop him. Legend spins in his arms and grabs his shoulders. To keep him from fleeing? To pull him closer?

Then he presses their lips together again, gentler. 

Ravio…softens, molding his lips back. 

When Legend pulls back, the stars are caught in Ravio’s gaze. And maybe they’re caught in the vet’s too, because the merchant says, “I love you.”

This is what the stars must feel like to touch. Uncontainable, yet burning warm. Filled with magic and mystery. Beauty and home, all wrapped up in one. 

Legend leans in for another kiss and forgets about the cold. 

[maddie-dog-story-blog]

The Floor Routine

Inspiration struck Erica while watching the Olympics cuddled up with Mads. Snug in her soggy nighttime diaper and favorite Winnie the Pooh two-piece pajama set, she stared up at her boyfriend. Erica had been living her best life since Mads had agreed to be her boyfriend and caregiver. Only one issue had cropped up.

As time went on, Erica could tell Mads was losing respect for her as an adult. That loss of respect was expected when someone was tasked with changing your messy diapers everyday, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt. Erica still wanted to be seen as the sexy, intimidating, and mature woman Mads used to see her as, if only just occasionally.

That's where gymnastics came in. In high school, Erica had been a gymnast. However, like with many youthful endeavors, age, injury, time, and resources cut her gymnastic career short. But, the Olympics reminded Erica how strong, powerful, intimidating, and sexy the sport was.

Two days later, Erica stood just inside the door to her nursery, dressed in the sexiest leotard she could find, ready to surprise Mads.

"Are you ready, Daddy?" She called out flirtatiously.

"Yes, baby," Mads responded.

Erica stepped out from behind the door, revealing her sexy body wrapped in spandex that barely covered her naughty bits. Mads looked at her, appreciating the view. Erica grinned as his eyes lingered on her ass.

"Sweetie, you aren't even wearing a pull-up?! You're going to ruin your cute outfit!" Mads said.

Erica could have screamed. She almost did. She resisted though. Tonight, she was a big girl. She wasn't going to throw a tantrum. Instead, she walked up to her boyfriend and grabbed his crotch.

"I'm only worried about needing protection from this!" She said, kissing Mads as she stroked his cock through his pants.

After what Erica deemed an appropriately long make-out session, she pulled away.

"Are you ready to see some of my special skills, Daddy?" Erica asked huskily. Mads just grinned.

"Other than being the world's cutest pamper packer?" He asked, squeezing her mostly exposed ass.

Erica did stomp her foot at that.

"Daaaddddy!"

Mads tussled her hair before saying, "I know, baby, I'm sorry. Let me grab your diaper bag and we can go."

Erica huffed again, but knew from experience there was no getting Mads to go anywhere with her without her diaper bag.

The couple reached their destination in 20 minutes: the Little City Gymnastics Center. Erica led Mads into the building with all of the energy of a toddler dragging their caregiver into a toy store, excited to show off her moves and re-establish herself as a capable woman to her boyfriend.

Once inside, they were greeted by a beautiful, younger woman at the front desk. Her name tag identified her as Sammy. As Erica looked at her, a familiar sensation struck her stomach and bowels. Not concerned, Erica dismissed the feeling as butterflies.

Sammy spoke cheerily, "You must be Erica? You rented out the whole gym for an hour? Come this way, let's get you where you want to go!"

Sammy led the couple down a hallway and into the main gym. A large, springy floor for floor routine was surrounded by various other gymnastics apparatus, pads, and training devices. Erica's eyes went wide as she walked in, and the sensation she was calling butterflies intensified. It was beautiful.

"Here you go, have fun! I'll be in the corner if you need anything," Sammy said, grabbing her cellphone and leaning against a wall.

Erica grabbed Mads hand as she turned and looked at him seductively. "Are you ready to see how much of a 'big girl,' I can be?" She said as she dragged him towards the space for practicing floor routine in the center of the room. Erica didn't even notice her other hand subconsciously rubbing her stomach as she walked.

"Of course, baby," Mads said with a smile.

Erica moved to the center of the floor and prepared for her first move, a standing back flip. She hadn't done one since high school, but she was sure that didn't matter.

Making eye contact with Mads, Erica squatted down, threw her arms back, and launched. The world blurred for a moment before Erica realized she had screwed up.

Erica undershot her landing, leaving her feet splayed out behind her as she belly-flopped into the hard floor. Failing to land wasn't the worst thing to happen though. As she hit the floor, Erica lost control of the cramps she had chalked up to nerves. With a trumpeting sound, her bowels released themselves, forcing Erica to push out a lumpy brown mess into the back of her leotard.

Mads quickly ran to Erica's side, diaper bag in tow. "Oh, baby, did you have a little accident?" He said as he hugged her.

Erica couldn't form words. She just sobbed as she felt her mess squish in her leotard.

With deft hands, Mads quickly undressed and diapered Erica. Sammy also appeared, holding a new, much less sexy, pink leotard that looked suspiciously like an infant's onesie. Mads quickly dressed Erica in that as well.

Staring at Erica, now dressed in the pink onesie with a substantial diaper bulge at her waist, Sammy pressed her finger to her lips.

"You know, sweetie, I don't think this room's for you," she said, grabbing Erica's hand. She led the waddling woman out of the room and into another one, a gym clearly meant for a toddler tumbling class. "This place seems much more your speed!"

Erica blushed as Mads came up from behind her, placed his hand on the small of her back, urging her to go play. "Go on, little one, enjoy your time! Show Daddy what you can do!"

Erica toddled into the middle of the room and released her bladder, soaking her diaper in shame. Standing in the middle of the glorified daycare in a wet diaper and onesie, Erica knew she was precisely where she belonged.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This is my entry for a little, friendly competition with @baby-erica! I may have lost, but she is still the bigger baby.

[danieyells]

i am politely begging for lucas lines 🤲

LUCA MY BELOVED LITTLE BRIT KNIGHT. Luca is a darling but the thing about him is that he's so focused on his goal that he really seems to have no mind for anything else. . .well it's not a problem, but it does make him feel a little distant I guess.

Hello: (the first time the game is opened after that character is set as home screen NPC. Only happens once per day, unless the character is switched out and back.)

"You're here 10 minutes early—I'm impressed. Let's check the details for today's mission."

You've Got Mail: (whenever there's something in the inbox, usually Arena rewards)

"A letter's arrived for you. It could be important—you'd better open it right away."

Default: (requires no affinity, has no time constraints)

"So this is all we have to go on for the next mission... Don't worry. No matter what anomaly awaits us, I'll keep you safe."

"I haven't trained nearly enough. I need to go on more missions... I have to do more, to find a way to subjugate them..."

bby you're already doing everything you can. . . .

"If you're ever in trouble, you can always come to me. I want to be there for my friends."

"Do I find it tough training every day? Those with strength have a duty to use it for others. I'm perfectly all right."

"I'm sorry. I haven't troubled you again with my thoughtlessness, have I?"

BABY YOU ARE THE MOST THOUGHTFUL MOST OF THE TIME DO NOT EVEN WORRY YOURSELF.

Affinity 1: (between 5am and 11am)

"{PC}, good morning! An early training session will warm you up for the day. Would you care to join me?"

Affinity 2: (between 11am and 4pm)

"I'm sorry, I'm about to head out. A dangerous anomaly is wreaking havoc on campus again, and it's a threat to the general students."

Affinity 3: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"I invited Kaito to train with me, but he turned me down. Apparently, he's got a lot on his plate, but I'm worried about his lack of strength..."

Affinity 4: (between 8pm and 5am)

"There's something I want to investigate a little further… You'll join me? Thank you. You really are very kind."

Affinity 5: (between 8pm and 5am)

"Phew... I'm finished with today's revision. Still, it's not quite bedtime. Perhaps I could fit in a casual training session."

Affinity 6: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"I've heard in Japan it's believed you're more likely to encounter evil spirits at twilight. Let's go find out if it's true."

hey let's go wander out alone at night and see if we can find demons to fight! don't worry tho i'll protect you nbd.

Affinity 7: (between 11am and 4pm)

"Kaito invited me to have ramen with him again today. He says it's Tokyo's signature dish."

Affinity 8: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"Jin has been calling you to his room a lot lately. Is everything okay? If you feel uncomfortable, I'll have a word with him."

let's say she was uncomfortable, what would that resolve? you think jin's gonna listen to you? but lmao it's kinda funny to me that like Ritsu and Luca see Jin putting you to work and go like "hm. that seems concerning." IT'S FINE THO WE'RE INTO IT EVERYTHING'S GOOD.

Affinity 9: (between 8pm and 5am)

"You think everywhere in Frostheim is cold? That's not true—the bedrooms are properly heated, like the cozy spot in front of the fireplace in winter."

everywhere outside of that though, freezing. including the bathrooms. especially the bathrooms.

Affinity 10: (between 10pm and midnight)

"If you're struggling to sleep, the Sandman will come and pay you a visit. That's what one old folktale in the UK says, at least. He must have been some sort of anomaly, too."

Affinity 11: (between 5am and 11am)

"I'm fond of the morning air. My brother, on the other hand, always said he found the nighttime more relaxing. Which do you prefer?"

Affinity 12: (between 11am and 4pm)

"Today in Anomalous Combat I was scolded by Professor Dante for defeating a mock anomaly. I believe I made the right call, so I'm quite confused..."

PAY ATTENTION IN CLASS JESUS CHRIST THEY EXPLAIN THIS IN EVERY SINGLE CLASS THAT WE ARE SUPPOSED TO CAPTURE THE ANOMALIES NOT DESTROY THEM. Jesus christ is that what they teach in Emrys?

Affinity 13: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"In many ways, Frostheim etiquette is quite different from etiquette in the UK. I wish I could escort you, but I still have a lot to learn myself."

okay consider frostheim etiquette is shitty anyway most of the time so don't even worry about it they're assholes.

Affinity 14: (between 5am and 11am)

"We still have some time until class starts. Why don't we go and fetch the documents for our next mission from Tohma?"

buddy isn't the main building across campus from Frostheim. . .do we have that kind of time. . . .

Affinity 15: (between 5am and 11am)

"You need to make sure you eat a proper breakfast. You lose muscle mass if you do things on an empty stomach. That's why I always have biscuits on me."

Affinity 16: (between 11am and 4pm)

"In classes I sometimes notice discrepancies between what is taught at Emrys and what is taught at Darkwick. I wonder which is correct?"

Affinity 17: (between 10pm and midnight)

"You worked hard today. No matter what ordeals await us tomorrow, I trust that you'll both be able to overcome them."

Luca believes in you! So believe in yourself too! You'll make it another day.

Affinity 18: (between 8pm and 5am)

"I've heard about the bushido ritual of seppuku. It's a rather extreme way of punishing oneself… It must require a great deal of mental fortitude."

IT'S NOT REALLY. . .A REGULAR WAY OF PUNISHING YOURSELF. . .I MEAN YEAH KILLING YOURSELF WITH RITUAL DISEMBOWLMENT REQUIRES A LOT OF MENTAL FORTITUDE BUT IT'S NOT EXACTLY. . .please keep your insides inside. . . .

Affinity 19: (between 10pm and midnight)

"You should go home and rest, {PC}. I won't allow the Devil's hour to pass tonight without finding some sort of hint..."

i feel like he doesn't find many hints and should worry about sleeping instead. . .what's with ghouls and not sleeping and eating enough. . . .

Affinity 20: (between 5am and 11am)

"Did you manage to get a good night's sleep? Rest is the best medicine. Don't push yourself to stay up too late, all right?"

Affinity 21: (between 11am and 4pm)

"Did you see they've announced what our next test is going to cover, {PC}? I hope your studies are going well. I'm happy to help you with review if you need me to."

Affinity 22: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"I'm going to have a chat with Professor Hyde about demons before I leave today. You and Kaito should go on ahead."

he's so studious! but i bet hyde wishes he'd y'know live a little.

Affinity 23: (between 8pm and 5am)

"Is a "pajama party" some sort of important event? Kaito was insisting that we invite you to one."

please teach this boy to relax a little. . .teach him a little fun social stuff. . . .

Affinity 24: (between 10pm and midnight)

"Sometimes I feel out of sorts, like I'm not myself. I still have a lot of training to do."

i think that's called exhaustion and having emotions, buddy. . .you can't train yourself out of that. . . .

Affinity 25(max): (no time constraints)

"We have experienced many joys and sorrows together since becoming friends. I'm very glad we met. I look forward to walking the road ahead with you."

Spring: (March-May) (between 5am and 11am)

"I saw a lot of flowers in bloom while I was jogging through the campus this morning. It really brightened up my run."

(between 11am and 4pm)

"Spring in Japan is quite similar to spring in the UK. The weather gets reassuringly warmer, and the air is filled with the scent of flowers."

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"Kaito has been nodding off in class a lot recently. I wake him up right away, but I'm still worried he'll fall behind..."

(between 8pm and 5am)

"I've never seen cherry blossoms lit up at night before. They looked very different than they do in the daylight. I feel it taught me something about differing viewpoints."

i feel like i learned something! not sure what tho.

Summer: (June-August) (between 5am and 11am)

"Summer days are long and productive, but in Frostheim the days are short all year round. It's easy to get caught in the dark if you're not careful."

(between 11am and 4pm)

"Kaito's going to teach me about Japanese summer again today. This is the first time I've spent the summer with friends— it's been a lot of fun."

;;;; please be a good first friend to him

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"There's a summer festival being held in Hotarubi this evening. I've got a yukata for it… Could you help me put it on?"

(between 8pm and 5am)

"The sun stays up until late at night during summer in the UK, so Japan's dark, sweltering summer nights feel quite odd to me."

Autumn: (September-November) (between 5am and 11am)

"Tohma has been going out on a lot of private errands lately. I wonder where he's been going? You don't think he's doing secret training, do you?"

no sweetie i don't think he's secretly training without you. he's doing important administrative business. don't worry about it.

(between 11am and 4pm)

"I like that autumn is considered the season for reading here. I'm reading two books at the moment—this one's in German, and this one's French. Can you read them?"

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"Tohma just gave us some chestnuts, so Kaito and I are going to try roasting them in the kitchen. Would you like to join us?"

once again the Frostheim Family interactions are strong lolol HERE KIDS HAVE SOME SNACKS. KEEP IT DOWN YOUR FATHER IS TRYING TO SLEEP.

(between 8pm and 5am)

"Anomalies are more active in summer in Japan, whereas in the UK, they're more common in the autumn. I suppose Obon and Halloween are to blame there."

obon is in august that is barely summer tbh. i mean some places celebrate it in july i guess. but that's an interesting worldbuilding observation. local spirit and 'monster' related festivities influence the amount of anomalies that spawn in a region. so halloween in america and the uk result in a lot of anomalies. maybe there are lots of love related anomalies and like doves around valentine's day? then again Luca said they don't have them in the UK that he's aware of.

Winter: (December-February) (between 5am and 11am)

"{PC}, your hands are red from the cold. Come on, let's run to the classroom. It'll warm you up."

while that is a realistic way of warming up who tf wants to go for a run in the cold. i mean it probably feels good the contrast in heat and cold but also HOW ABOUT WE GO TO THE STORE AND GET SOME MITTENS OR SOMETHING. but it is a very in character response for him lol. . . .

(between 11am and 4pm)

"When Kaito put a satsuma on his head and said, "I'm a New Year's decoration," Tohma fell silent and walked away. I'm confused— was it some sort of spell?"

satsuma are those little mandarins they put on top of kagami-mochi at New Years! if you've seen japanese winter/new years art you may have seen characters with them sat atop their heads while they relax in kotatsu. in the japanese version Kaito says "kagami-mochi" and Luca likely doesn't know what kagami-mochi is, so he thought it was magic.

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"The sun sets early this time of year. It's easy to feel down when the nights are long, but that's why it's especially important to stick to a routine like an exercise schedule."

Luca wards off his seasonal depression with exercise. good to know.

(between 8pm and 5am)

"On a clear, frosty night, you can see an aurora in the sky above Frostheim. It's very inspiring—like a beacon of hope in the darkness."

His birthday: (March 22nd)

"I suppose today is my birthday. Thank you. If you don't mind, will you join me in praying for my twin brother's safety?"

i gently rag on him for caring about nothing else but. it's clear how much his brother means to him and how worried he is about him, that even his birthday is dedicated to worrying over his wellbeing. idk who or what he prays to, or if it's just a general hoping thing or a 'since i'm in japan i'll make my pleas to japan's gods, in case those entities might have any power to help' type thing, like going to a shrine just because it's what everybody does, but. idk. i hope he can have a nice birthday outside of worrying about his brother. then again, it's hard to enjoy your birthday when you know it's your twin's birthday too and not knowing where they are, i guess.

Your birthday:

"Happy birthday, {PC}. There is a reason you were born into this world, and it's something that should be celebrated."

New Years: (January 1st)

"Happy New Year. I've heard it's customary to visit a shrine, so I'm planning to invite Kaito to go with me. Would you like to come along?"

Valentine's Day: (February 14th)

"Thank you! This is all very new to me. In the UK, it's men who express their gratitude to women on Valentine's Day."

i was gonna say something questioning because i'm american but when i think about it women in relationships with men don't really/aren't expected to give something to their boyfriends/husbands are they. it's much more of a day to give to/do something for your girlfriend. usually the idea of a gift for a man on valentine's day is ~dress sexy for him and have sex with him~ or whatever because other material stuff like stuffed animals and candy and flowers are seen as non-masculine gifts and things men wouldn't like. . .but that's kind of sad to think about. idk i guess i never really thought about it because valentine's day is a day that has no meaning to me. and 'valentine's day is a day men express their gratitude to women' is a very kind perspective on how it seems like people treat valentine's day haha. . . .

White Day: (March 14th)

"Thank you for the chocolate you gave me last month. This is a token of my appreciation. They're Thorntons chocolates— I just received them from back home."

do you think his family sent them and he decided to give you something lovingly sent to him by his family, or that he ordered them for the occasion specifically. . .i think it's sweet either way.

April Fool's Day: (April 1st)

"How odd... Kaito has been acting peculiar all morning. I wonder if he's coming down with something. Did you notice it, too?"

homie's really been living under a rock huh.

Halloween: (October 31st)

"Is that you under that mask, {PC}? I could just tell. I don't really understand what's so fun about this holiday."

on one hand, maybe if you got him to dress up and go trick-or-treating he'd enjoy it more? on the other hand i feel like he'd be on edge about it. More anomalies around in the UK around halloween, and he'd be so busy thinking about if there are demons around under his nose he wouldn't be able to have fun. . .poor guy probably grew out of halloween early huh.

Christmas: (December 25th)

"Happy Christmas! It's a shame I'm not able to celebrate Christmas Eve with my family this year, but I'm glad that I have all of you now."

you're his family now ;;;;;

Idle: (about 20 seconds without interacting with the game) (below 13 affinity)

"Penny for them? I'm happy to lend an ear if there's something troubling you."

'them' being 'your thoughts' in case you aren't familiar with the expression

(13 affinity and above)

"When deciding on your next move, I do think it's important to think carefully. That said, hesitation can cost lives. Balance is crucial."

boy it ain't that deep i am idle because i am checking emails or something would you relax--

Absent: (logging in for the first time in 2 or more days?)

"I knew you'd be back. If you're prepared to work to overcome this ordeal once again, I will gladly lend you my strength."

THOSE ARE MOST ALL OF HIS VOICELINES he's very. . .focused. it makes him a little repetitive but considering what's happening to bring him here i don't blame him. . . .

Of course finding his brother is important but the poor guy doesn't even see the world around him really, which is kind of sad. . . . On one hand, it's good that he's able to focus on his goals and desires, on the other hand it feels like those things are all he cares about because he feels like he has to and other aspects of life fly by him even if he'd otherwise enjoy them. . . . But even as his affinity goes up it feels like he focuses on so many of the same things. He sees you very much as his family and the first real friends he's ever made, which does lend to a positive relationship, but even then it feels like he keeps you at arm's length and sees you as someone to protect more than a loved one. . .maybe if he can find his brother or find out what happened to him he'll lighten up a little someday. then again given he isn't familiar with things like pajama parties and april fool's day he was probably serious even with his brother around! I assume they're going to be opposite type brothers, where his brother is a very jovial and relaxed person, but Luca is serious and strict. but only time will tell!

[bobattef]

in the shadows.

“You still here miss y/n?” The office security guard lightly tapping on your desk causes you to glance up from your computer.

“Oh hey Lars” you smiled tiredly.

“Yeah just finishing up a few bits then I’ll be out”

He just nods politely as he walks away, continuing on one of his routine walks of the building.

You glance up at the timer ticking above you, a little surprised.

Everyone else had clocked out around the sound of the klaxon that would signal an end of the work day.

But there’s you, some time later still, uploading word vomit into your research files.

You yawn quite loudly as you click save and close down your computer.

Tucking your chair back under the desk like you always would.

You grab your coat off the office peg, checking your communication box for any messages, sighing out loud when there’s no new notifications.

Switching the floors light off, you close the lid of the clocking out machine slowly, adding the extra time up in your head.

It’s so dark in the corridors behind you as you squint your eyes into the now shrouded walkway.

*why does Larsy do his nighttime checks in the dark* you shudder to yourself as you pull a small torch-pen out, pressing the button to help eliminate the way to the main doors.

You hadn’t been working in the TVA vaults for long.

Time definitely worked differently here but you knew you had clocked in and back out again a total of 164 times so must be about 5 months now?

You were working your way up to a promotion at the moment, hence the later clocking out time stamps compared to your associates.

“I’m gone now Lars…Goodnight” you shout out as you walked past the security desk at the front of the building.

You were almost out the main glassed doors before you realised he hadn’t shouted his goodbyes back.

You turn around, staring back at the un manned desk you hadn’t spotted a few moments ago.

“Lars?” You call out as you see his empty chair being illuminated by the many tv screens he had on throughout his shift.

Walking slowly back towards it now, you take a small pocket knife out of your coat, flicking the blade open.

You’ve always carried protection on you, often being laughed at by your work colleagues after being told there was never a threat here at the TVA.

Yet here you were, about to use it on anyone and everyone who would be jumping out on you tonight.

As you step past the opening of the table, you spot a pair of shoes sticking out from behind the chair.

“Lars!!” You almost screech as you drop your knife in panic and rush over to where he was laid on the ground. 

You couldn’t see much in the dim light but he was definitely unconscious, you search for a pulse and feel relief wash over you when you find one.

“Lars…” you gently call out his name.

“Hey…Larsy!” You say louder now as you slightly shake his shoulder.

“He cant answer you” the deep voice from behind causes you to spin round in panic.

Standing before you was a tall man, wearing a dark suit made up of different kinds of green and black shades.

You worked your line of vision upwards for what seemed like ages before setting your eyes on his.

They were looking deeply into yours, like you were prey.

You glance slightly to your left, catching where you had dropped your pocket knife on the ground earlier.

As you lunge towards it, the mysterious man seems to guess your movement and kicks out, your knife goes skimming across the tiled floor.

“Wha…what did you do to…?” You can’t even finish your sentence before he steps closer to you now. Grabbing you by the collar of your work shirt, he pulls you up to your feet with no effort at all.

You struggle against his grasp as you can feel him start to lift you into the air, your feet dangling, trying to find some sort of surface to land on.

He tilts his head slightly as he tries to work you out.

You weren’t wearing the same armour as the security guard that was passed out beneath him. 

You simply looked like an analyst or office book worm of some sort as he runs his eyes over your brown blouse and skirt.

You stop trying to fight him as you can feel his eyes on you, raking your body as you feel your cheeks heat up slightly.

*what is wrong with you* you think internally.

*this..stranger has you by the scruff of the neck, after taking out one of your security guards and the only thing you could think of was how close he was to you, the size of his hands as he held onto you, the darkness that pooled in his eyes as he stared down at you*

“Who are you?” He simply stated as he could see you were having an internal conversation with your self.

“I…I er…” you swallowed as your throat felt dry.

He raised his eyebrows at you stuttering.

“My…name is y/n…” you tell him as he focuses on your lips moving “and er, I’m a strategist” you add on as you start to cough with the restricting hold the man had on your neck.

“A strategist?” He repeated doubtfully.

You had no further words than to nod. You were sure you would either pass out or be sick if you tried to move your voice box.

“Then what’s with the weapon?” The man asked you as you stared back at him confused.

“The knife” he snaps as he can tell you weren’t keeping up with him. 

“Protection” you splutter out as he lowers you down slowly, releasing the tightness round your neck a little. 

“From?” He asked, genuinely as he drops his hands from you completely.

“People taking out my security guards” you reply back as he chuckles at your quick wit.

“What are you even doing here?” The man asks you as he wonders where you came from.

He had scoped the place out a few times yet he’s never had another in this particular building apart from the one security guard.

“What..what are you doing here?” You ask him his own question as he raises an eyebrow at you. 

“Escaping” he smirked as he pointed at you to answer him now. 

“Working” you say to him as if it was the most obvious thing to say.

“At this time….alone?” He asks as his mouth curls up into a half smile.

You just shrug.

Your feelings of being scared of the man were dropping by the minute.

You no longer saw this menacing being as a threat the more he spoke to you.

“Well I’d love to stay and finish this, riveting conversation but…” the sarcasm seems to ooze out of his voice as he starts to walk away from you now.

“What about Lars??” You blurt out.

He turns on the spot “what about him?” He shrugs.

“Is he going to be ok??” The concern in your voice alleviates it slightly.

He sighs out as if you were supposed to fully understand.

“He’ll be fine” he tells you “…its a temporary thing. Just think of it as…dreaming” he smirks.

You look between him and Lars now, you shouldn’t believe a word this man says to you yet you do.

You stand at the desk whilst you watch him stalk down the corridors towards your labs.

Disappearing into the shadows.

You finally manage to regulate your breathing as you grab your pocket knife from the floor and think about how to move Lars into a more comfortable position.

But your heart rate is sent rocketing once more as the TVA alarms blare out through the sound system above you.

Your hands fly up to cover your ears as you rush round to the tv screens.

Scanning the many different rooms they project back for the cause of the alarm.

Sure enough, it’s the mysterious man that was now stood in front of the TVA time pad vault.

The room being lit up under the red flashing lights as the alarm almost mimics the movement of them. 

You press a few buttons on the keyboard that was in front of you.

Sighing out loud as the alarms come to an abrupt stop, leaving behind a slight ringing in your ears.

You weren’t trained as a security guard but you had read the TVA guidebook to almost everything so knew certain access codes or in this case, control codes.

You slump back on the large swivel chair Lars must of sat on before being taken out unexpectedly. 

You didn’t realise you had closed your eyes until you feel them fly open at the voice stood in front of you now.

It was the man again.

This time instead of a cheeky smile on his face, his eyes were narrowed as he frowned.

“Just a strategist hmm?” He snaps at you as you look back at him puzzled.

“How did you disable the security system??” He asks you as you realise what he meant from his comments.

It definitely wasn’t common knowledge how to over ride the alarms and you had known the security guard by his first name.

He steps behind the desk once more as you stay frozen to the chair.

You definitely relaxed around him a few moments ago but now you felt a little scared by the way he was towering over you.

“Please…I erm…I just” your voice waivers as see something glint in the mysterious man’s eye.

He’s lived his life making people afraid of him.

He had great joy knowing others were scared of his presence but when he saw that familiar look of fear in your eyes he didn’t have the normal gloating feeling like before.

This was weird. 

Felt deep in the pit of his stomach.

“Hmm” he mumbled as he leans towards you, shaking off the uncomfortable senses.

Your words have escaped your mouth, you had no thoughts as you didn’t know how to explain anything right now.

“I need you” he simply states as you’re taken a back.

“You do?” You ask him, confused at his choice of words.

He exhales a breath out as he knows he doesn’t have the time to explain anything right now so instead he just grabs you by the arm and marches you both down the dark corridor.

Your little legs struggling to keep up with his larger strides.

“Open it” he barks at you as you stand before the time pad vault.

You furrow your eyebrows at him “what for?”

He looks at you as if you were speaking another language.

He didn’t like the fact he had scared you earlier at the security desk but you were wasting valuable time right now.

He definitely needs your help so must remain calm as to get you to comply but your stupid questions grind on him.

“Open it…please” he presses his lips together on the please, you watch as his jaw clenches.

You stare blankly at him.

Why does he want a vault unlocked of time pads when you can just use yours?

“You’re after a time pad?” You ask him trying to clear up the confusion.

He feels like shaking you out of frustration.

You gulp as you can clearly see you’re annoying him.

“Just use mine…” you quietly say to him pulling it out from your TVA issued coat.

“I…” he goes to tell you once more to open the damned door but as his eyes land on the time pad you had in your outstretched hand he’s silenced.

“You have a time pad??” He almost shouts.

“Yeah” you shrug “all strategists do…it’s what we work on” now it’s your turn to act like he’s speaking another language.

Everyone here knew both hunter pack leaders and strategists held the time pads.

He took the device from your hand a little too quickly.

Tapping away on it at speed whilst you stood there watching him.

He flickers his eyes up to yours.

You avoid his stare awkwardly as his eyes start to lose that look of urgency he had before.

As he was just about to press the button to open up a time jump, the door to the vault room is blown apart, causing you to duck in fright as the debris cloud of dust dances around you.

“Hands up!”

“Stay where you are!” 

“Drop the time pad Loki!!”

The booming voices of 4 hunters are shouting all kinds of directions to you as you freeze in shock.

You go to turn slowly round to face them as they point their time sticks at you, ready to prune.

Just before you’re able to face them fully, you’re pulled backwards by someone, thrown completely off balance you tumble, landing on something or someone with a thud.

You hear the person cough as you open your eyes, realising that you were sprawled across the chest of the mysterious man.

“Loki?!” You cry out as you try to get back on your feet.

You look around in panic to your new surroundings.

It was dark, it was quiet.

“You’re welcome” Loki says to you as he holds onto the side of your hips now.

Trying to regulate his breathing.

But with you pressed up against him, it’s hard to concentrate on anything else.

“You’re the Loki Laufeyson?” You ask the man as you look up at his face in disbelief.

Please don’t say you just helped the god of mischief escape the hunters of the TVA.

“The one and only” he says cockily as he looks down to where your blouse was straining to keep its buttons done up.

You’ve heard of this Loki variant that had been sent to be pruned by the TVA, but in a change of events that no one would talk about, he ended up helping the TVA, working with them to hunt down variants himself.

“Where are we?” you sound panicked again as you can’t seem to work out the place you were stood in.

Loki shrugs as he wasn’t sure what he typed in that device.

“Timepad Loki!” You raise your voice at him in anger.

He bucks his hips upwards as he fumbles trying to grab the time pad that was tucked safely in his back pocket.

The movement causes your cheeks to heat a little as you can definitely feel something underneath your TVA issued skirt.

He goes to hand it over but stops mid way, why were you so annoyed with him, he literally just saved you from the pruning by the TVA.

Reluctantly, he hands it over as you sit up now, each one of your legs straddling his waist.

His eyes widen at the new position you’re both in as your skirt rides up past your thighs but you don’t notice the look on his face as you focus on the time pad. 

The device beeps twice as the light dims away from the cracked screen. 

“No!!” You sounded horrified so Loki looks up at you for answers.

“The batteries gone” You barely whisper out.

With the time pad having no power, there was no way to open up another time jump door, no way to choose a different time line, no way to escape.

“You gave me a dead time pad?!” It’s his turn to sound annoyed.

“Fuck!!” You curse out as Loki looks at you, surprised at the tone of your voice.

“Now what?!” You ask the darkness surrounding you.

You feel Loki twitch under you.

You were so caught up in trying to find an alternative escape route that you didn’t clock the compromising position you were in right now.

Loki leans up on his elbows, edging his face closer to yours.

You hardly get a chance to ask him what he was doing before you feel his lips being pressed against yours.

You don’t seem to have any control as you groan into his mouth, the sound causes him to kiss you harder.

He snakes a hand behind the back of your head, almost holding onto you as his tongue now joins his assault on your mouth.

You feel like you’re going to lose your breath as you’re pulled towards him.

He doesn’t break the kiss, you’ve never had a  man’s lips be on yours with this much urgency. 

Another moan leaving your mouth causes the god of mischief to dig his other hand into the flesh at your hips.

It seems like you don’t want an inch of thought as you start to grind on him, his hardness pressing against the fabric of your skirt.

You feel his hands on you, roaming your body.

The one that was gripping the back of your head so tightly moves down past your chest.

Teasing your hardened nipples that had started to show through your shirt now.

The other hands slip underneath the fabric of your skirt, the feel of his skin on yours causes you to take a deep breath in anticipation.

Just as his fingers started to stroke the now dampened lace of your underwear, you almost jump out of your own skin as you hear the distance shouts of others.

“Fuck! no!!” Loki curses now as he knows he has to stop what he was doing.

You almost froze to the spot, trying to figure out what to do but Loki springs into action.

He lifts you up effortlessly as he stands from the floor, panting slightly from your make out session.

He grabs hold of you under your arm as he starts to run down a corridor, hopefully in the opposite way of the hunters. 

His grip tightens on you as he starts to work out what to do, where to go.

He kicks open another door, shoving you inside.

He steps in after you, whilst slowly shutting the door behind him. 

“Loki…” you drop your voice down quieter to him as he stands in front of you now, his height allowing him to lean over you to press one ear on the metal listening out.

“Not know” he snaps at you. Trying to strain his hearing to reach further.

You go to answer him back but he places a hand over your mouth, stopping you in your tracks.

You hear the footsteps of people run past the door you were hidden behind as your eyes widen in shock at how close you were just now at being found.

You can feel your heart beating against your chest as fear strikes you yet again this evening.

Your eyes search the darkness for the face of Loki.

Still stood just before you, his hand not moving an inch from its grip across your face.

You can almost hear his quicken breaths also, feel his shallow breathing as his whole body is  pressed up against yours.

Your thoughts start running back to what you were doing just a few moments ago.

You lick your lips slightly behind that large hand of his as he tenses slightly, flexing the muscles in his arm that was still pinned one side of your head.

It’s as if he could read your mind as he casts his eyes downwards on you.

You so wish you could see his face.

It was too dark inside this cupboard type place he had chosen to hide you both in.

“We really mustn’t” Loki whispers to you as you look at him puzzled.

You go to say something but the hand over your mouth muffles your words.

“What?” Loki says a little too loudly as he removes his hand now.

“I said…” you hushed at him.

“I didn’t say anything” 

“What?!” He looks at you with confusion.

“Oh for fucks sake” you sigh out.

“Is that all the language you speak in?” Loki tuts at you “…profanities?” 

You glare at him.

Considering your situation right now, the fact that you’re adding a few swear words into your vocabulary surely isn’t the worse part?!

You feel his smile through the kiss he lands on your lips.

He wastes no time to match the same urgent pace he had been kissing you before.

Before you were so rudely interrupted .

The force of him causes your head to hit off the back of the door you were pinned up against.

The noise causing you both to stop for a few seconds before he nips your bottom lip lightly, giving the all clear.

He pushes his knee up to your centre, the sudden pressure there causes you to gasp into his mouth.

Your hands make their way to his hair, wrapping your fingers around a few strands you tug on them.

“Fuck” he rasps, the humming of his voice vibrating on your lips.

Grabbing one your legs under your thigh he lifts it up, you instinctively wrap it around the back of his waist.

Feeling his hardness push up against you where his knee once was, turns something inside you and you find yourself begging him for more. 

“So needy” Loki whispers now as he breaks the kiss.

You’d pout if you could see you.

He chooses this time mocking you, to undo the belt he had on, pulling down on his leathers, his cock throbbing as it strains against the fabric. 

You try to wiggle up your skirt now, it puts up a protest as it clung to the leg that was wrapped around Loki’s waist.

The god of mischief seems to sense your struggle as he drops the hold he still had on your thigh, pulls your skirt up to your waist in one quick moment and then returns his hand to place your leg back to where it was.

His move being lightning quick, you were impressed.

He kisses you once more as he frees his cock, he trails the tip over the lace of your underwear as you unconsciously Buck your hips up towards him. 

He flattens his palm on the door behind you, steadying himself as he pulls your underwear to one side, his fingers tease your folds as you can’t seem to concentrate on the kiss anymore.

Parting your lips slightly, he presses his cock up to your entrance.

Stalling for a moment as if he wanted to make sure you fully wanted this.

“Loki…please” you whine as he leans into you. 

Pushing inside you, his cock being swallowed almost to the base.

He quickly covers your mouth once more with his hand as you moan loudly into his palm.

He knew you would make a sound as he breathes through the urges to come right there and then.

After a few seconds he starts to rock his hips into you, pulling out almost all the way before sliding back, deep inside.

The tip of his cock hitting that sweet spot inside you over and over again.

You want to be vocal, you want to tell him just how good he was at fucking you up against this door but you hold your self back.

Imagine being caught this way.

His hand cups your ass as he quickens his pace.

Digging his fingers into your flesh, you know there will be marks left there.

He grunts as he feels your cunt pulsate around him.

You were going to make him come a lot quicker than he had wanted to.

He wants to fuck you forever he thinks to himself  as his movements start to falter.

He tries his best to hold on but the way you were gripping onto him was overwhelming.

It felt like you were made for him and him only as your bodies moulded together inside that small storage cupboard.

You were starting to see stars, you felt Loki’s pace become sloppy as your body was rocked up against that door harder and harder.

You didn’t even care if you were heard now as the sensations you were feeling were too good to even think about stopping.

“Loki….” You whisper out to him as he didn’t even realise he had dropped his hand from your mouth.

He had a hold of both sides of your hips now, holding you in place as he pushed deeper and deeper inside.

He panicked slightly when he thought you had a been a bit too loud so without thinking how you would react, he conjures up his shadows.

The irises of his eyes flashing green as you widen yours in surprise.

‘Is he using his sorcery?’ You think to yourself as you feel a hand move over your mouth once more.

Except this time it was a lot cooler in touch.

The same cool touch you feel trailing down your body, from your neck, across your chest and then down to your most sensitive area.

Your brain working over load as it tried to work out what was happening right now. 

Loki’s hands were definitely on you, gripping onto the curves of your hips as his cock still pumped in and out of you.

But these extra touches were hard to decipher.

Like someone else was in this cupboard with you but it couldn’t be possible.

You go to ask him what was happening, what was causing this weird sensation of being touched by another but your thoughts are cut off when you feel the cooler touch move over your clit.

You jerk against the door as the colder temperatures felt so good rubbing over it.

Loki is in his element as he wishes he could see your face contort in pleasure.

The noises he was hearing, being muffled behind his shadows hand of course, sounded delicious.

You were losing your mind as he put more pressure on your clit as he could feel himself getting closer also.

That familiar feeling starting to knot in your stomach.

The mixture of being fucked so deeply up against that door whilst the pace Loki was moving across your clit was picking up, you weren’t going to last much longer.

You want to scream his name as you come. 

It was increasingly hard not to but you couldn’t, for one the shadow clamping over your face wasn’t letting up plus the situation of still being on the run by those TVA hunters scared you into a more quieter groan as you came around Loki’s cock.

The noises inside that small confinement is something he wants to remember forever as the gushing from you sends him over the edge, falling against the door in exhausted bliss.

You both are panting now as you come down from your highs, the cooler touches of Loki’s shadows have gone. The warmth radiating from the both of you are all you can feel now.

He leans his forehead against yours as his eyes remain closed.

He hopes he hadn’t scared you with his shadow play.

“You good?” He asks you, his voice raspy from trying to catch his breath.

“All good” you finally manage to answer him as your place your leg back on the ground, a little shakily.

“Who?…what was that” you ask him as he gently straightens your skirt from being bunched up at your waist.

He just smiles in the darkness.

“All me” he tells you as he grabs you under the chin.

He places a kiss lightly on your lips now as he feels they were swollen slightly.

“Ha” you breathe out.

You had heard stories circulating your offices of this Loki - God of mischief - having magical powers but you would have never believed those powers were to be used on you in such a way.

“Loki…” you whisper out to the dark at him.

“Mmm?” He replies, still lost in the moment.

“How are we getting out of here” you sounded worried as the cloud you were riding on starts to land back on reality.

“I do believe the coast is clearer the longer we are inside this cupboard” he answers you.

You start to chew your lip with worry as you think.

“We’d just have to bide our time better?” Loki smiles now as he can see you were concerned “I’m sure we can think of something to do whilst waiting?” 

“Only if your shadows come out to play again” you laugh, suddenly feeling safe with the god stood before you.

[whumpisgoodwhumpislife]

Unfair

Takes place when the vampire is still held by the hunters

Masterlist

TW: Sunburn, broken bones

It wasn’t good. Not at all.

The vampire knelt silently on the grass, both relishing the feeling of the wind on his face, and waiting for the inevitable pain. The hunters had taken him outside, there must be a reason. At least it was nighttime, so he could enjoy the fresh air without writhing in pain and slowly burning alive.

- Only fifteen minutes left, let’s go.

He flinched as he heard the hunter’s voice, and one of them gave him a hard shove. He lay down on the grass, on his stomach, and stayed obediently still. A hunter knelt over him, his knee pressed into his back.

- Fifteen minutes before the sunrise, leech. The door to the headquarters is right in front of you, about thirty meters. You just have to reach it in time.

The vampire nodded eagerly as he felt the hunter stand up. This was gonna be easier than expected. Even if he could barely see anything, he could still smell the particular scent of leather, metal and blood coming from inside the building. He could do it.

At least that’s what he thought, until a flash of pain exploded in his right knee. And immediately after, his left one. He wheezed, unable to breathe as the overwhelming agony mixed with fear. How stupid he was. Of course, they weren’t gonna let him do it. They weren’t even gonna let him a chance. Tears brimmed in his eyes, and a strangled sob escaped him as the crowbar fell in his shoulders too.

The vampire stayed completely still, expecting more pain to come. But the hunters had left, and he was alone.

He had fifteen minutes before the sunrise. Well, more like ten by now. He tried to crawl, tried everything he could, but pain was shooting in his broken joints every time he dared move even just a bit. When he felt his back start to sizzle, he hadn't even gone a few inches.

He had no way to protect himself ; usually, he would have curled up in a ball to protect every part of him he could. But he couldn’t , and he just lay splayed on the grass as the sun start rising. He could feel everything, his skin blistering and bubbling as he writhed silently. It wasn’t stopping, and soon he wasn’t able to even think anymore, only focused on the agony coursing through his body. Every involuntary movement of pain was sending spikes of pain through his shattered joints, as if they were being broken over and over again. He couldn’t even cry, his eyes burned.

The hunter left him there all day long. He was outside, unrestrained, for the first time in years, and he couldn’t do anything about it.

Even when the sun set and he was finally dragged back to his cell, thrown on the cobblestone floor, he didn’t stop squirming and spasming. It felt like the sun was still coursing through his veins, like liquid fire.

His eyes were too damaged to cry.

[kinglazrus]

this isn't the beginning (but it's a start)

An AU where Portal Danny went missing his senior year of high school, and he's back home twenty years later.

Ch. 2 | Ch. 4 | Masterpost | Read on Ao3

Chapter Three: Fenton Works

Nothing in his head is real.

Words: 3593

Warnings: Gore and vomiting in the opening sequence

Blood coats his teeth. It’s gathered along his gums, congealing in thick globs that ooze when he prods them with his tongue. He can barely breathe past it, choking on the smell and the way it clogs his throat. His mouth feels too sticky and too dry all at once. Before he can think better of it, he swallows, or tries to—tries to work up the saliva to spit it all out. But there’s a pop when he bites down, and something too solid to be a clump of drying blood bursts open across his tongue, filling his mouth with a sour taste.

He lurches upright, and even though he’s already gagging on the stringy bits of viscera stuck between his teeth, the way his head spins is what pushes him over the edge.

Bile hits his tongue for a brief, bitter moment before he heaves. Every retch after that is dry, tearing at his throat while his stomach squeezes again and again even though he already feels like his insides have been scooped out. And no wonder why. A pale band of light illuminates the pool of blood spread before him. It’s a considerable amount of blood. Even though it’s too dark to see anything beyond that one pale stripe, there’s no mistaking how slick the floor is beneath his palm, how damp his knees are growing. The fleshy chunks that make him recoil every time he moves his hand.

He’s not sure where he is. Why he’s here. Can’t even remember how he got here, at least not clearly. His eyes had been fixed on that dark space, searching for a glimmer of light, any sign that he was mistaken. That the star would still be there, if only he looked closer. Everything after that is lost to a haze of blood and tears.

He can’t say how long it’s been since he was thrust out of the shadows. Long enough that his tears have dried. Short enough that the blood at his knees hasn’t.

Apparently, his body hasn’t caught on to the fact that he’s already wrung dry, because the retching doesn’t stop. The convulsions drive the pounding in his head and leave him shaking. He presses a hand against his abdomen, but it does little to soothe the sharp, pulsing throbs that twist his stomach every time his muscles clench.

It comes in waves, and between bouts, he inches toward the crack in the wall where the light comes through. A room lies beyond it, still dim but not completely dark, thanks to the windows set high on the walls. It must be nighttime, since there’s just enough light to see by, not that there’s much to see. Counters that run along the two longest walls, the cupboards underneath them, and a doorway on the opposite end of the room, through which lies a set of stairs leading up. Otherwise, it’s empty.

The wall shudders as he leans against it, though maybe it’s not a wall at all. His hand nearly slips off a ridge along the bottom of the wall, and as he steadies himself, his fingers curl over a worn edge, finding a narrow gap within which lies some kind of track. For a door, most likely, to slide open and shut.

Wall or door, it doesn’t matter either way. The metal is cool against his sweat-slicked temple as he tips his face into the light. He’s never been scared of the dark, but at the moment, the shadows squeeze around his heart. He doesn’t even want to close his eyes, though it might stop the room from spinning and help settle his stomach, just so he doesn’t lose that sliver of light.

A burst of music drills into his skull. He claps his hands over his ears and jerks back, banging into the door. It makes an awful screech, and he thinks he might have knocked it off its tracks. But after a few seconds where the only thing that falls on him is rust, he realizes the door is sturdier than it sounds and relaxes against it.

The music blares from his pocket, but he ignores his phone in favour of hugging himself tightly and folding over his knees. His stomach aches. His throat burns. His head pulses out of sync with the erratic thrumming of his core.

Blood and bile and buzzing, and jeans stiffening as they dry, and a single rust flake caught in his eyelashes, and a cloying, citrus scent that somehow cuts through every other wretched smell assaulting him now, and, and, and a dozen little things piled atop each other until it’s one great weight pressing on his shoulders, setting his nerves on fire, pushing a thousand needles beneath his skin as it all sinks in, and he needs out.

He drags himself up, body tilting one way while the world twists in the opposite direction, and throws himself against the door. It shrieks with every hit, but it moves, inch-by-inch, and as soon as the gap is wide enough, he squeezes through to tumble into the room beyond. Dirt, or some kind of grime that’s layered thick and damp in a way dust shouldn’t be in a place like this, smears across his palms as he catches himself on his hands and knees.

It’s quieter out here. The roaring in his head fades a little more with every breath that isn’t laced in shadows, and soon enough he can hear the wind howling outside, and the rain beating down on brick and metal and glass, and a steady creaking in the distance. A symphony, not wholly unpleasant, that he would be glad to listen to for a long while if his phone weren’t still ringing.

The melody plays two more times before he drags his phone from his pocket and checks the caller ID. Fruit Loop, it says. The call stops before he can make up his mind about answering, and a flood of missed notifications fills the screen instead.

Thirteen missed calls—nine from Fruit Loop and two more from School—and a handful of texts from the former.

Fruit Loop Friday 3:17 PM We’ll continue this discussion when you get home. Friday 6:23 PM Are you still at school? Friday 10:17 Answer your phone. This is childish. I’ll keep calling until you pick up. Saturday 1:17 PM I’m sure Johnny is excellent company, but this is getting ridiculous. We will be talking. Are you finally eating? Answer your phone. Yesterday 8:46 AM Why are the police here What did you do Answer the phone Yesterday 11:31 AM Whose blood was that This is serious you’re putting us both at risk Pick up the phone Pick up the damn phone Today 10:06 PM I’ve taken care of it. I told you humans are too fragile.

His nausea, which had waned, surges forth once more as he reads those final messages. It settles into a steady, miserable rolling deep in his stomach that’s somehow worse than when he was stuck in that tight, dark space that reeks of blood and citrus. At least he doesn’t throw up again, small relief that it is.

He jabs the call button, almost surprised when the screen doesn’t crack from the force of it, and slowly pushes himself up. He makes it one step and halfway through the first ring before the call is answered and a stern voice demands, “Where are you?”

“I—”

“Do you have any idea how much danger you put us in? You’re lucky this only went as far as the police. If the school had suspected anything, they could have called the Ward.”

The rant fades out of his awareness as he steers himself toward the nearest counter. His shoes peel off the tile with a wet ripping sound that has him gritting his teeth, and leaves a trail of tacky red footprints behind him. He folds himself over the counter once he reaches it, forehead pressed to the metal despite the dust that tickles his nose.

“I managed to redirect their concerns, of course, and you’re still welcome back next year to finish your licensure program. Why you want to be a teacher of all things…”

“Fruit Loop?” he interrupts. He doesn’t mean to make it a question, but the little rise in his voice is present regardless of his will.

“Oh, yes, very funny. You and your clever quips. What do you—oh. Hm.” Fruit Loop goes quiet.

The silence quickly grows unbearable, after only a few seconds, but he can’t bring himself to break it. What would he even say? He shoves himself up—much too quickly, oh that doesn’t feel good—and opens the cupboard underneath the counter, desperate for a distraction. He has to grip the cupboard door to keep himself balanced as he crouches, as the room sways. Maybe there’s more to the nausea and the piercing pain in his temple than he thought. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s gotten a concussion. Once he feels steady enough, he picks through the cabinet.

Bits of frayed wire. Metal scraps. A cluster of jars on the bottom shelf, all lined with a strange residue. In most of the jars, it’s faded to grey, and crumbles like chalk when he taps the glass.

“Do you know how I am?” Fruit Loop asks, a sharpness to it that suggests he’s repeating himself.

“Yes!” It’s not very convincing, with how quick the answer comes.

He scowls, tilting his head to get a better look at the jars. A greenish-black stain spreads between them. Crouching lower, he spies another jar at the back of the shelf, cracked along its side. Inside is a sprout of some kind. It has a deep, hollow stalk, coloured black, with curling lips that split into something almost like flower petals. Its roots creep along the glass, and mycelium dangles from the lid. The stain seems to spill from this jar, where hair-thin fibres have forced their way through the crack in the glass. They’re softer than he expects.

He drags his finger through the stain. To his surprise, only the top layer is dry, a thin crust that breaks easily. Underneath, it’s fuzzy and a rather toxic green. It also makes his skin tingle where the substance clings to his fingertip.

Leaning close, he sniffs it, and isn’t surprised when citrus stings his nose. Ectoplasm has a very distinct smell, although he could be mistaken. He sticks his tongue out to lick his finger.

“Well?”

He starts, mouth snapping shut and catching the tip of his tongue between his teeth, and hisses. “Yes, I know who you are!” He pauses a second too long. “Vlad.”

That feels right, and it must be, because Vlad sighs in relief. “Good. You’re not as far gone as you could be.”

“Wow, thanks.”

It’s easy to spot the mould hidden around the room, now that he’s aware of it. Gathered in the corners, festering between the tiles. It’s noticeably lacking on the far side of the room, by the doorway leading up, and grows more obvious deeper in, spreading beyond damp corners. He traces the patches back to the hole in the wall behind him.

And it is just a hole in the wall, the place he stumbled from. He thought it might have been a closet of some kind, but closets don’t have big octagonal openings blocked by a set of heavy doors striped black and yellow like caution tape.

As he stares at it, an odd feeling creeps through him. It’s not enough to rip the air from his lungs. It doesn’t even touch the ache already settled in his chest, though it still makes his knees weak. He grips the countertop to keep himself from crumpling to the floor.

“Where are you?” Vlad asks.

A laugh bubbles out of him at Vlad’s excellent timing. It’s a choked thing, closer to a sob. But it’s not, because he isn’t sad. He isn’t in pain, at least not from this, or anguished, or even the littlest bit upset.

He’s just…here.

“Do you know where you are?” Vlad prompts again.

“Yes.”

“Good. I can come get you.”

“I’m not a kid.”

“If you’re unstable, and you must be if you can’t remember who I am—”

“I remembered!”

“—and considering what happened on Friday—”

“Nothing happened!”

Vlad pauses. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” He’d like to stop saying that. He’d like even more if he didn’t sound so weak and unsure every time he does.

“You know how much I care about you. Well, you might not at the moment, but you’re very important to me. I need to know if you’ve been affected by William Lancer’s dea—”

A screech drowns out the final word. The metal countertop folds under his hand, and he has to pry his fingers from the indents left behind. Vlad has gone quiet again, so he takes the moment to inspect his trembling hand. The slope of his fingers where they’ve begun to taper toward the nail, the image of flesh and keratin melting away. It takes a few slow flexes before the mirage returns, but the colour is off still. The shade of pale skews toward I-have-no-circulation rather than I-need-vitamin-D.

He clenches his fist and tucks his hand into his pocket. “Please.”

“So you do know?”

“No! I didn’t…” He gasps. His nails dig into his thigh, hard enough to prick, but that’s nothing compared to the knife carving into his chest. Every breath drives the blade deeper, through blood and bone, piercing him to the core. When he opens his eyes—can’t even remember closing them—he expects to see his chest flayed open, skin peeled back, ribs cracked to expose the empty cavity inside him.

There’s nothing. He’s crumbling from the inside out and somehow, there’s not a mark on him. That’s now how pain is supposed to work.

“Do you know what day it is? What’s the last thing you remember?”

Polka dot napkins. The image floats to the front of his mind. Couldn’t he remember more, minutes ago? It’s all shrouded in a grey fog, now. Except for the parts that are darkness and light and blood and the place where light should be.

Maybe he makes a sound. Maybe Vlad gets bored with the silence. Either way, he’s torn from his spiralling thoughts by a sigh from the phone.

“I suppose next time you’ll know better than to latch on to the first familiar thing you see.”

His phone cracks against the wall. He doesn’t register that he threw it until he’s staring at the blue plastic of his phone case, shattered where it struck the portal’s frame.

The portal.

He’s heard it described many times. Not its shape, but what it did. How it ruined his life. The way it would have torn him open, scooped out his insides, and filled him with something else, something strange. He imagined how vast it must have felt when he took his first steps inside. The pain it would have brought. The connection forged between him and it at that moment. Surely, if he could recognize anything from his former life, it would be this. This would be familiar.

But it’s only a hole in the wall.

He clutches at this chest, breaths coming faster as he tears his gaze away.

There has to be something, something.

Turning on his heels, he runs for the stairs. Colour leeches from his body as he reaches the top and rushes through the door without opening it. He meets resistance on the other side, only for a second, before there’s a tearing sound and a plastic sheet folds around him. He rips the tarp off, paying no heed to the oily green sheet it leaves on his hands and clothes, and leaves it crumpled on the floor.

It’s no brighter here in the kitchen than it was downstairs. One window, covered by a sheet similar to the one that assaults him seconds ago, and boarded up behind that. A broken table in the middle of the room, its legs snapped, the chairs beside it in similar states. Empty cabinets. A fridge—wrapped in another tarp—swathed in caution tape.

No one’s lived here for years.

He knew, if he ever came, that he might find strangers within the walls, but he didn’t think it would be empty. That’s worse, somehow, than finding an unknown face at the door. To know the place he once called home is hollow, too.

He tries to imagine what it would have looked like, once. The fridge unwrapped, covered in magnets holding up report cards and Polaroids and drawings. The cupboards full of food. The table set and ready for a meal. But the people sitting at the table have no faces. And the pictures are patchworks of colour with no real form. The cupboards are full of the oils and spices and jars of dry pasta from Vlad’s manor.

Nothing in his head is real.

The only thing waiting for him here are the Xs spray-painted on the walls.

The front room is much the same, except the graffiti is joined by broken beer bottles and crumpled chip bags. A cold wind comes through one of the windows where the boards nailed over it have been pried away, the protective sheet peeled back. A couch sits under the window, its cushions covered in grime and faded footprints. Has it always been there? Maybe with a TV stand on the other side of the room. Or did it used to sit against the back wall, facing the front of the house, so they could sit there and look out the window to the street?

He tries to picture it.

He can’t.

Upstairs, then. He grips the banister so hard the wood creaks in his hand. His skin is no longer pale, but now a bleached white. He doesn’t look at it. Doesn’t think about it. Focuses on the few blank spaces on the walls where he can see paint beneath the graffiti, on the squares where the paint is less faded, where picture frames must have once hung.

He finds four doors on the landing. Two to the left, two to the right. Only one is covered in a tarp that’s carefully taped along the edges, the letters R-I-P sprayed across it.

Hesitation seizes his limbs for only a moment before he rips the tarp down and tosses it away. A prickle spreads across his tongue before he even opens the door, and he already knows what he’ll find. Mould. Here, it infects every corner of the room. The walls, the ceiling, the floor. What he first thinks might be a soft carpet is, in fact, a dense layer of mould. It’s thickest beneath the empty bed frame, rising into a fuzzy mound with sprouts growing out of it, similar to the one in the jar downstairs.

He steps inside, and light ripples out, spreading in waves across the room from wherever he touches the mould. Clouds of spores puff into the air where he steps. They fall in gentle waves, like snow. If this were any other time, he might stick his tongue out to try and catch one.

But he doesn’t care about this. Doesn’t care that it exists. Doesn’t care that it’s here, eating this room from the inside out while the rest of the house grows stagnant.

This was his room. It isn’t, anymore. It isn’t anything.

He runs. Flees down the stairs and throws himself at the front door, but his body doesn’t pass through it, at least not completely. His head smacks against something hard enough that his ears ring. He stumbles back, clutching his temple, and rips the door open, splintering the frame when the deadbolt tears through the rotting wood. A gleaming white panel covers the other side. 

His core buzzes at the sight of it. He doesn’t need to test it to know he can’t phase through that, so he pivots toward the broken window, clambering though. The frame is already clear of glass. He heads for the street, where the wind shoves him to his knees and the rain beats against his back, and he looks up.

The windows are dark. Cracks climb the brickwork. The flower box beside the stairs is full of weeds, and the grass rises to his knees. The only sound coming from the building is the creak of old joints, from the sign hanging over the sidewalk. His gaze slides across it, skimming over the rusted letters, but the name slips from his mind as soon as his eyes leave it.

This is just a house, and he wants to go home.

Where is that?

“With…” he trails off as the name escapes him. With who? Does he live with anyone? Does he live anywhere? Maybe he’s always been here, kneeling in the rain.

Where are you?

“I don’t…”

Who are you?

“I…”

What’s wrong?

He stares down at his hands, at his blackening fingertips, and realizes he doesn’t know.

“There’s…a hole,” he says. Somewhere. In a place where a star used to sit.

So, fill it.

As he pushes himself up, darkness coalesces at his feet, but he resists their pull. He can’t go there, where it’s gone, it’s gone, it’s gone. Instead, he sets off down the street, with slow, staggering steps, and leaves the ghost once known as Fenton Works behind.

—

Masterpost | Next chapter

[mandos-mind-trick]

The Wolf Pup

Summary: It’s no secret within the 104th that the stern Commander is soft for the Pack’s so-called Wolf Pup. After a close call on a combined mission with the 501st, Wolffe takes it upon himself to remind her they'll always be there for her, no matter what.

Pairing: Wolffe & Padawan!OC (entirely platonic)

Warnings: Substantial injuries, violence, blood, panic attacks, fluff, soft!Wolffe, whump cause I like torturing my characters.

A/N: So this was originally going to be part of a whump series that I was going to write and never got around to. I was actually going to post something else with these characters but then I was like...wait. Y'all have no clue who Lexa is so I'm posting this one first.

Some background:

Lexa is Plo Koon's padawan. She's a Twi'lek, around 16 years old when this happens in the timeline. She's a year or two older than Ahsoka, and of course they're like BFFs naturally. Lexa is a shortened version of her name cause she has a traditional Twi'leki name that's very hard for non-native speakers to pronounce so she goes by Lexa. She has light purple skin (Cause I can) with darker purple spots (like think Kit Fisto's spots in the CW show but all over her body) and our girl is tall. Like she almost be looking the clones in the eyes. (I swear I'm going to learn how to draw eventually so I can properly portray my OCs.)

MASTERLIST

Her body aches. 

It’s the first thing she notices when she wakes. 

She feels like she’s been hit by a speeder. Her head is throbbing, something trickling down the side of her face. Her arm is throbbing, a deep painful throb that only means one thing. It’s likely broken. She opens her eyes, fear beginning to well inside her. 

She can’t see. 

She presses her hand to her face, not feeling anything covering it. She still can’t see anything. She reaches for her hip, feeling along her side until she hits her belt. She trails her fingers along it until she hits metal. She breaths a short sigh of relief, wrapping her hand around her lightsaber. She ignites it, glad to see its familiar green glow in the light of the cave. 

It is a cave she’s in. She can’t see anything but darkness above her. No sign of daylight. The only other explanation could be that it’s nighttime, but she doesn’t think she’s been unconscious that long. 

It had been morning when they’d attacked. 

They were trying to prevent a droid battalion from setting up a base on this remote planet. If they got their communication tower online, it would cut off one half the Republic Army from the other. 

Master Plo and Master Skywalker had taken half the army one way, and she and Ahsoka had led the other half the other way. Things had looked like they were going well, until something had caused the ground to shake and it had opened practically under her and Ahsoka’s feet. 

Ahsoka. 

She pushes herself to stand, breathing through the pain. She does a quick scan with the force, feeling every bruise, nick, and cut. Her left arm is broken, likely from her landing. She disengages her lightsaber, engaging the com in her vambrace. 

“Master Plo?” Her voice is weak and shaky, her heart thrumming in her chest. 

Nothing but static. 

She tries again, getting the same result. 

Had their mission failed and the droids powered up the communication tower? Or had the fall damaged her comm? It was possible, as she had landed on her left side. 

Ahsoka was her only hope, that her comm was still working. 

“Ahsoka?” She calls into the darkness, hearing nothing but her own voice echoing. 

She reaches out with the force, feeling for Ahsoka as she shines her lightsaber along the ground. She shouldn’t be too far. They were close enough they both were swallowed up by the crack in the ground. 

She feels something, a weak pulse in the force a few feet ahead of her. She moves carefully, not wanting to trip over any rocks. That must be why she hurts. The ground is very uneven with many large rocks sticking out. 

The air leaves her lungs when she finds Ahsoka. 

She’s fallen on a small pile of rocks, her body bent over the beak. She’s still, having been knocked unconscious in the fall. For a moment Lexa thinks she’s dead, but she can feel the weak force signature still. She can heal her. Lexa was always good at using the Force to heal. 

First, she needs to get her down though. 

Lexa’s left arm is throbbing painfully. She’d need to fix that before she can help Ahsoka. She focuses the force, knitting the bone back together. She nearly passes out when she’s done, both from the pain and the exertion. She forces herself onward, though, knowing she needs to help Ahsoka. 

She uses the force, carefully lifting her body from the rocks, lowering her down to the small divot where she’s standing. She kneels next to Ahsoka, looking over her with the light of her saber. She doesn’t look hurt, but she knows she could be fatally wounded internally. 

She grabs Ahsoka’s comm, calling out to her master once more. 

Again, nothing but static. 

“Master Skywalker?” She tries, getting nothing but static again. “Wolffe?” She whimpers, panic beginning to settle in as realization dawns on her. “Captain Rex?” 

Nothing but static. 

Tears run down her cheeks as she begins to panic. She tugs at her lekku, a nervous habit she had yet to break. They’re entirely alone in this huge cavern with no discernable way out, and no way of contacting anyone. They at least knew they were missing above. Someone had to see them fall. This cave system could be huge. How were they going to find them? 

She’s hyperventilating, losing herself to her panic as she shines her lightsaber in both directions. The light disappears into darkness both ways. Which way would she even go? She can’t carry Ahsoka. 

She curses, slamming her fist against one of the rocks. 

She needs to get a hold of herself. 

First she needs to check Ahsoka, and try to heal as much as she can. Then she can worry about trying to find a way out. She’s not going to let Ahsoka die. Ahsoka is like a sister to her, and she’s not going to let anything happen to her. She had promised Master Plo. 

Lexa closes her eyes, taking deep breaths. She centers herself in the force, pushing down the fear and the panic threatening to take over. She can do this. She can be stronger than her fear. 

She puts a hand on Ahsoka’s stomach, focusing the force through her. She holds on as long as she can, healing as much as she can. 

She nearly blacks out, her body falling limp from exhaustion. There’s a headache thumping in her forehead, slowly getting stronger. She’s overdone it, but at least Ahsoka won’t die from her injuries. 

She wraps an arm around the young Togruta, pulling her close. She needs a nap. Just a short one. Maybe she’d wake up and they’d be rescued already. 

**

She wakes in the cave. It’s cold, her body already shivering. She curses, scooting closer to Ahsoka. She wraps her arms around the Togruta, holding her close to try and share any warmth they have left. She reaches for the comm, calling out again but once more, there’s nothing but static. 

She grabs her lightsaber, igniting it. The ground glitters with frost, her breath visible in the darkness, and so is Ahsoka’s. She’s shivering as well. It’s cold. Very cold. It must be night now, or at least close to it. She doesn’t want to think about it getting colder. Neither of them will make it. 

Lexa closes her eyes, reaching out in the force, trying to feel anything that might be close. She doesn’t get far, already feeling the exhaustion pulling at her once more. She can’t exhaust herself completely. Ahsoka needs her, and she couldn’t possibly get them out of here if she’s too exhausted to move. 

Lexa forces herself awake, trying to keep them from freezing to death, too. 

It’s a long and miserable night. 

Lexa is starting to feel the effects of her hunger and thirst by morning. She hasn’t eaten in almost a full day, and she’s beginning to feel it. Expending her energy using the force isn’t helping either, but she has to keep healing Ahsoka. Even if it’s foolish, she refuses to let her die when there is a chance. 

She also continues trying to reach someone on the comms, but she has no luck. 

Until that luck changes. 

It’s a garbled signal, barely audible but she hears it. 

“Master Plo?” She asks, listening to the static. 

More broken voices. It’s not her master. Those are clone voices. 

“Wolffe?” She asks. “Anyone? Can you hear me?” 

It’s quiet for a few moments and she rises to her feet. Maybe if she moved somewhere else in the cave, she’d get a better signal. 

She uses her lightsaber as she walks, pausing every time she hears a sound other than static from the comm. 

“Ahsoka, come in.” 

Master Skywalker. She’s never been so happy to hear another voice, pressing the button on the comm to reply when something swoops down out of the sky, hitting her. The comm link drops from her hand, her body falling back against the rocks. 

She gasps as the air is knocked from her lungs, the attack taking her by surprise. She pushes herself to her feet, shining her lightsaber to try and see what it was. Something swoops at her again, but she ducks just barely getting grazed by it. Whatever it is, it’s very big. 

She’s panicking again. What if there’s more than one? What if they find Ahsoka? Why were they now just attacking? 

She doesn't see it until it’s right on her, talons sinking into her chest as she’s lifted off her feet. She just manages to hold onto her lightsaber as she’s lifted into the air. She can feel skin tearing as the creature holds onto her, blood soaking her robes. She swings her lightsaber at it, catching one of its wings. It hisses out a horrible scream and she readjusts, slicing its feet with her saber. 

It’s a good move, until she’s falling. 

She braces herself for impact once more, only to hit water. It’s shockingly cold, almost stealing the breath from her lungs. She pushes herself to the surface, choking in a breath. Something glides along the water and she ducks down, holding herself under as the creature passes overhead. She keeps herself under until her lungs scream, pushing herself to the top. 

She takes in a big gulp of air, looking around. There’s no sign of the creature. She hopes it’s not because it’s found Ahsoka. 

She drags herself out of the water. She’s shivering, the water icy cold. She’s not going to survive another night with wet clothes. 

She also doesn’t know where Ahsoka is. 

“Help!” She screams, uncaring if it draws the creature, or more of them to her. She’s desperate. She’s lost Ahsoka, she’s soaking wet, and she's going to freeze to death. They both were, if she doesn’t get help. 

She continues screaming until her voice is hoarse, walking around the cavern in the direction she thinks Ahsoka is. She finally finds her again, dropping to her knees on the rocks. This is it. She’s going to die. They both are. She’s failed Ahsoka, and she’s failed her master. 

There’s a loud sound from somewhere above, rocks falling from the roof, clattering on the ground. Bright light suddenly fills the cavern, Lexa holding her arm up at the painful intrusion. 

“Help!” She screams again, putting everything she can into it. She falls back, nearly crying as clone troopers begin dropping into the hole using jetpacks. “We did it.” She breathes, huddling next to Ahsoka. “We’re saved.”

She does begin crying as Wolffe runs up to her, falling to his knees next to her. 

“Wolffe.” She whimpers, squeezing her eyes closed as his fingers prod at the wounds on her chest.

“Easy, ad’ika.” He says, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Let’s get you two out of here.” 

****

Lexa can’t sleep. She’d been freed from the med bay a few hours ago. Ahsoka was alright, making a full recovery thanks to her. Master Skywalker had already expressed his gratitude for what Lexa had done. Master Plo was proud of her and her bravery, even if she didn’t quite feel like she deserved it. 

She wanders the halls, something she does when she can’t sleep. She’d tried meditating already, but her mind is loud with memories of the last couple days. She holds the ends of her lekku in her hands as she walks, tugging on them absentmindedly. It’s a bad habit, it really is, but she’s never been able to break it. 

She nearly walks into a body, a hand reaching out to steady her. She blinks up at Wolffe, meeting the Commander’s naturally stern stare. It softens just a bit as he looks at her, his hand falling from her shoulder. “Sorry, Wolffe.” She says, dropping her hands from her lekku. 

“Careful, ad’ika.” He says. “You just got out of the med bay. Hate to see you have to go back.” 

She makes a face, scrunching her nose. “I hate that place. It smells bad.” 

A small smile tugs at the corners of Wolffe’s mouth. “What are you doing up so late?” 

“Just walking.” She answers simply. 

“Just walking.” He repeats, raising his eyebrows. He’s known her long enough to know when she’s hiding something. She’s good at hiding her emotions from her voice and her words, but her body language gave everything away if you knew what to look for. The subtle shake of her lekku, the little frown pinched between her brows, the tenseness in her shoulders, the way her hands can’t stay still. Wolffe can read her like a holonovel. 

“Well, it’s been a long couple days...” She shrugs, avoiding his gaze. Another sign something’s up. “Lots to think about.” 

“It has been a long couple days.” He says. “You should be resting.”

“Easier said than done.” She murmurs. 

“Come on.” He puts a hand on her back, starting to walk her back towards the barracks. 

It’s no secret within the 104th that the stern Commander is soft for the Pack’s so-called Wolf Pup. She’d wormed her way into their ranks and their hearts not long after the General allowed her to accompany them on missions. She already knew some of their names, and the others she learned quickly. She’s just as kind and caring as her master, and was not afraid to jump in to save one of them on the battlefield if she could. 

The boys loved their little pup as much as they loved their General. The absolute fear they’d felt when they’d been helpless to watch both her and Ahsoka disappear during the earthquake. Boost had been smart to mark the area as they marched on, forced to leave the two padawans behind. They had to get to the base before it could begin broadcasting, and that meant leaving the two padawans and hope they survived long enough for them to return. 

Wolffe had been terrified of what they might find when they finally broke through the thick crust of the planet. It was a long drop into the cave, and he’d thought the worst until he’d heard her screaming. It had broken his heart, how scared she looked, how much blood she had been covered in. Both padawans had lived, thanks to his little pup’s bravery and determination. 

He steers her towards his own barracks, her mind so distracted she doesn’t even notice until the door opens. He’s glad the others are still mostly dressed, not having thought that through very well. He nudges her inside, the others greeting her. Boost and Sinker squish her between them in a hug, their normal greeting for her outside of more formal instances. 

Her muffled voice sounds from between them and they release her, letting her take a deep breath in. The others greet her, despite having seen her only a couple hours ago upon her release from the med bay. 

“Boys,” Wolffe addresses them, setting his helmet on someone’s bed. “I think our ad’ika needs a cuddle pile.” 

They share looks before they all begin moving, grabbing blankets and pillows. Wolffe steers Lexa to the open space against the far wall, sitting down on the floor. He catches a pillow tossed at him, setting it in his lap before tugging her down. She rests her head against the pillow, the others arranging blankets and pillows around them. They all settle in, surrounding their pup with warmth and comfort. 

Wolffe gently massages the space between her lekku, her body practically melting into the floor. He’s not good with comforting words, not like the General, but he can offer her this kind of comfort. Remind her she’s not alone, that they would always be there for her. They would never leave her behind, no matter the odds. He can imagine the kind of fear she had felt, and he hates he couldn’t be there to protect her from it. 

All he can do now is remind her that it’s over, that she’s tucked in safely with her pack.

Taglist: (I know more of you have asked to be on my everything taglist but I was dumb and forgot to mark people so if I have forgotten you please let me know 🫣)

@bobaprint, @star-trekker-0013, @rosechi

[emberfrostlovesloki]

Criminal Minds June Prompts - First Meetings/Dates

All Photo Credits at the End

Good evening loves! We made it to Mayl! Here are some more Summer Prompts for June. This prompt list is inspired by the always amazing, @imagining-in-the-margins, who always make the best prompt lists. Her current prompt list can be found here (linked). I won’t write for all of my prompts, but I might for a few. I decided to go with a theme for these June Promts and it is First Meetings / Dates, and there are a few in here that I am very excited about.

The rules for using these prompts are that there are no rules! You could use any Criminal Minds characters, OCs, reader inserts, etc. You could draw, write, make mood boards, or imagine anything else. I have included 30 prompts for each day of the month. I also get inspiration from plain old words, so I’ve included 10 Summer words that might inspire something. Lastly, I’ve included a few dialog and art prompts too. If any of these prompts inspire you to create, I’d love to be tagged to see what you have made. This is all just for fun. I wish everyone a great start to the month. Please know I’m proud of you wherever you are right now - Love Levi ❤️

You can find all the prompts below the cut

General Prompts

Characters A and B try to decide on a first date spot, but they don’t seem to have the same taste in anything, so they have to compromise. 

Character A sees Character B having a meltdown for no apparent reason in public, so they go to make sure Character B is okay. 

Character A doesn’t believe in ghosts until they move into their new house/apt. Things get strange, so Character A invites Character B over for the first time to investigate. 

Character A doesn’t believe in romance until they set eyes on Character B for the first time. 

Character A is dressed for the wrong occasion, so Character B gives them a hand with a wardrobe change. 

Character A is on a run and gets hurt, so Character B gives them a hand. 

Character A gets called on a case to help the BAU. They didn’t expect to fall in love with a member of the team. 

Character A struggles with vertigo and Character B catches them before they can hit their head. 

Character A can’t let go of the past and neither can Character B, so they decide to meet again and pretend it’s the first time. 

Characters A and B go to a pride parade together and Character B has a revelation about their identity. 

Character A gets arrested at a protest, and Character B helps them out of their legal troubles. 

College tours are awful and draining as a parent until Character A gets a look at Character B, who has another kid on the tour. 

Insomnia keeps Character A up at all hours, they keep seeming to run into the same person on their nighttime strolls. 

Character A goes to pick up a roll of photos that were developed. They end up getting the wrong person’s [Character B] and Character A sets out to find whose pictures they are. 

Learning a new language is hard for Character A until they meet their new language tutor. Character B.

Character A is a hostage negotiator, and when they find out they are negotiating for a member of the BAU [Character B] the stakes are raised to a hundred.

Character A is in the park when a dog comes up to them, Character B is running around looking for their lost dog when they find their dog with a pretty stranger. 

Character A is getting married, but Character B knows a secret and feels they must tell Character A before it’s too late

A middle-grade science fair brings Characters A and B together for the first time. 

Character A has agoraphobia and character B, an online friend, agrees to meet them in person to help them try and meet new people. 

At a local fair, Character A has their palm read and is told they will meet the love of their life that evening. 

Character A lets their child paint their nails which leads to an interesting interaction with Character B later that day. 

Characters A and B fight over an item at the grocery store. When they see each other again the next it’s a bit awkward. 

An Amazon delivery driver sees some scary/suspicious things delivered to a house, thankfully they live next door to an FBI agent. 

Amnesia fic. 

Character A gets rudely told to shut up. Character B comes and finds them after to say they’d love to hear them talk more, maybe on a date. 

Character A is reading a book that is very complicated and unintentionally throws it into the lap of an expert in the subject in the park. 

Character A is trying to learn how to knit. They are expecting to class to be full of older ladies and are surprised when they see Character B is the instructor, who is young and attractive. 

A member of the BAU takes swimming lessons with Character B. 

Character A catches Character B saying they are touch starved, so Character A finds a way to fix that. 

Word Prompts

Summer

Last Day of School

Summer Camp

Date 

Flower Crown

Rock Star

Finish Line

Chemistry 

First Time

Reckoning 

Dialog Prompts 

“Sure it’s a date. Wait, it’s a date!"

“Now hold on a second. Did you just call me pretty!” 

“Listen, at weddings a single girl/guy is looking for one thing, a good time."

“Is there really a difference between pleasure and Joy?” 

“Life will never be the same without you.” 

“Run as if your life depends on it because it does.” 

Art Prompts

Any member of the BAU in a swimsuit  

Any member of the BAU with a pet or animal 

Any BAU kid running to Uncle Rossi

Any member of the BAU blushing uncontrollably

Text Break Banner by @cafekitsune

Tag list: (🩷) @tgskitten @geminitapestry @silk-spun

Want to be added to my tag list? Please check out this post (linked) 

Want to send in a request? Please check out this post, CM Request Post (linked)

Photo Credits

Top: Left (@emilyinsuits) Center (@kafkasdiariies) Right (@flowersforfrancis)

Middle: Left (@ancientsstudies) Center (@mickisnotclever) Right (@ex-injuria-jus-non-oritur)

Bottom: Left (@ex-injuria-jus-non-oritur) Center (@psykopaths) Right (@tokyocyborg)