#once again I am in shambles over not knowing how to fucking draw

[acediaedeus]

imagine being in Orihime’s friend group, and one day you see her video with B.A.S. by Megan Thee Stallion playing and “guess who just confessed to being gay and in love with their best friend at the same time after 3 years of dating” as the caption. #highschoolsweethearts in the hashtags for sure. the video itself is just them both screaming “fuck it, guess we both ain’t shit!”, and then taking turns dancing to the “he lyin’ to me, and I’m lyin’ to him”.

[nochi-quinn]

legend of vox machina watch party episodes 7-9: kareawkward

EPISODE 7

ohGOD my headset clicked on just as they started yelling

they all spontaneously forget how to introduce themselves

"I play Pike! and that's it"

PLEASE HOLD THE WATCH PARTY ISN'T WORKING BC IT THINKS I'M IN A DIFFERENT REGION

jasper the fluff bunny luck dragon!

dagon ;-;

dagon was a conure

matt and marisha are going to kill you both

Please Forgive Me Percy

"think good thoughts. don't make eye contact."

"I have WONDERFUL sketches" "you also have many strange skills."

"I don't want to"

grog strongjaw: kind of a crackhead

Legend of Vox Machina: Put Down Cursed Weapons

cursed weapons: not even once

"FUCK THAT ROCK"

hey kurama check it out I'm a blood fountain

(I have resisted making that joke three times now, I am only so strong)

"if you wanna flirt with someone, stop being mean to her friends"

right, taliesin, a friend

keto grog

"what a DING-DONG"

"I fought for that butthole"

YES they also made me think of Stray

"how often are you gonna see a bear and a jackalope team up?"

"did they complain a lot about it, is what I'm asking"

and then cheech marin happens

"we've all been there before" "allegedy!"

augh tal's mic picking up his drinking noises

two emo boys being emo

"no, I'm alone" "no, I AM"

Dragon Zoom

"dad went out for a gold hoard"

I need the "bleh" noise from naruto abridged put over grog there

"she did [the reverb] herself, just with her voice"

flashbacks to early c1 when laura had to leave early for an audition and sam was making fun of her for where it was

"isn't this fun, watching tv with my frien - oh shit I have a job"

oh, fearne is on sam's shirt

travis how does the lavalier jabbing you in the neck like that not bother you. it's bothering me second-hand

"these are things people have told me about tripping out"

no I hate this

I'm so glad they didn't do this sdlkfjsl

bury it in the new mexico desert

"maybe we'll use it in the future!" "no, no I don't think we will"

I stepped away but I had my headset on so I got to hear "daddy garmelie" and I don't like it

The Nipples Are Implied

Bondage Keyleth

"vax in the knot" is an entirely different part of the fandom

ONE HUNDRED PERCENT thought she was gonna say "hey taliesin speaking of penises"

I was gonna say, taliesin that's you, you're the nerd who went to japan

The Criticalrole

"that's so much worse than in my head, I wanna do it again"

"see….seven characters is a lot to draw"

animators: pls kill someone

the little drama play that just went on in the back row

mica is gonna bully them into singing again

he's definitely never heard that one before

EPISODE 8

look I know he's friends with like two thirds of the cast but also: why

this entire operation is a shambles

oh I stand corrected, that's NOT sam. iphone brandon auman (?) sounds very much like sam

did this man just use "exotic" to describe a human person

edit from the future: a NIGERIAN human person, x2 Please Leave

lmao owlbear is still copyrighted

the fonz!

I also deeply enjoyed the backlight

"she's got issues! you got issues!"

mica saying all the shit I said in my liveblog like eight hours ago

a minor crisis happened in my house but honestly fuck it, I have not been enjoying any of this

imagine: we could have had liam in this watch party

"the scream I scrumpt" s a m e

I appreciate those leaf wipe transitions so much more now

troy baker also did not realize how long it takes to get to the cast, it gets me every time

no no let him leave

"we! are! professionals!"

that! that! that thing I said! god thank you for validating me cast of legend of vox machina

(check my individual episode liveblogs, true believers!)

"how much bernie sanders do we want?"

"EVERYONE in the trickfoot family" he said pointedly into the camera

"thanks for making everything feel worse" truer words

I love all of those

Phantom String

taliesin just casually creating character and world lore mid-game it's fine

EPISODE 9

oh thank god he's gone

matt's not here to sing with the intro, everybody else has to

PALETTE cleanser

I saw chris in the credits, did NOT catch him here

I am upset with myself

grog is canonically a swiftie

"vox machina muppet babies" PRINT IT

oh THAT'S what that was, I thought I was just not remembering something from campaign 1

SHE

Cute Cat Babies

kittenari

"everyone was fantastic this season" as opposed to last season

grgreagrandfather

I'm crying againnnn

animators cried over goop monster, confirmed

cries in digital artist

if a dragon wore pants how would he wear them

"if your skin peels back when you hear it, it's taliesin"

Evil Falcor

"DOES JET FUEL MELT STEEL BEAMS"

does dragon acid melt metal hands

"horrible father" "I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT, LAURA"

"there were so many pigs!" "and now they're bacon"

I have appreciated all of the animation so much this season, the color and the light and the aaahhhh

I like pike's little turn on "wwwwhat do you mean"

someone confirm if the guy in the back is supposed to be pipsqueak from atla

"the saddest cannonball"

the toothpick barricades!!

oh shit that's right the last episodes are in like two days

"using blender" the overwatch porn program?

I have something bouncing around my head about how pike and wilhand let grog learn how to be silly but I haven't been able to words it

sketchy pike and groooog

sketchy grog's little hip jut

it's me I'm questions

"because it's cute" is a completely valid answer

I think I commented on matt's jaw dislocating in my original liveblog lmao

"is this gonna kill the animators??"

Grog For Scale

OH WAIT I JUST REMEMBERED THE BEAR TATTOO

…and what happened to the bear tattoo

I feel like sam needs a nap

like mood but also someone let this man sleep

oh no he broke arthur

mica's leaving. mica's just gonna walk out.

all the herdspeople wear collars to hide where the neck seam meets the body

"just say yes"

The Button Arc

wasn't that a veth thing

ashley trying desperately to keep up with sam

"I don't know what I just saw, it doesn't make much sense"

oh good lord

I've said this before but if I would love to hear Sam sing without being a goober

dflksdjfslk

laura breaks IMMEDIATELY

and made NO attempt to try to bring it back

"that's as close to top gun as life is ever gonna get"

"why am I getting southern. you guys have tainted me."

ooh, phil bourassa! there were ostensibly other names in there, I was just typing and didn't hear them.

[myafterlifeisbetterthenyours]

OBSESSIVE STOLAS X Male Imp Pt.1

(This is a long fanfic and will consist of multiple parts.)

The day Stolas met you, the life which had been boring at worst and full of love and respect at best, was in complete shambles. Broken ever since the "Brunch incident".

He and his wife were barely on speaking terms, and when they did speak, it would almost exclusively devolved into a fight filled with harsh words and thrown objects.

His darling starfire hadn't spoken to him in over a week. Something he'd usually chock up to teenage angst, but she actively avoided him now.

Something she'd never do before.

And so with his homelife slowly tearing him apart, he naturally thought a visit to his favourite Imp in all hell would brighten his day.

And that's where you came in.

You'd worked at I.M.P for the last few months and were quickly becoming a valued member of the I.M.P family.

Youd just finished a job and were about to fill out the rather tedious paperwork the job entailed, When the towering Demon Prince entered the office.

You were too proud an Imp to admit it, but when you first saw Prince Stolas you were a little starstruck.

Said Prince, apon finding a new Imp at I.M.P's office immediately inquired as to who you were

Taken off guard by suddenly be talking to a Prince of hell, you spent a moment fumbling your words, before finally telling him your name.

Stolas finding the whole thing quiet adorable.

Stolas sparked up a conversation, asking how you ended up at I.M.P and your work with the company. Something you were more than happy to tell him about.

You told him how Blitzø had hired you after youd single handedly killed 3 men in a fight with only a can opener.

Then you told him about how working as an assassin was challenging but enjoyable work, all things considered.

You tell him how working for the chaotic force of nature that is Blitzø was great too, when he wasn't being a prick.

As charming as Stolas found your slightly flustered conversation. There was a purpose to his visit. And so asking you if Blitzø was in, to which you told him he was in his office.

Stolas suddenly became anxious, wondering aloud if his outfit was presentable or not.

This caused you to laugh, placing a hand over your mouth.

Stolas was immediately indignant, demanding to know what was so funny.

You killed the laugh with a cough, before telling him you laughed because simply put "You'd never seen a more ravishing demon in all your time in hell" And for him to be anxious was funny to you.

Stolas Blushed hard, a Warmth he didn't understand spreading through his chest. It had been so long since he'd received such praise from someone who wasnt utterly subservient to him.

Sputtering out an timid thank you, before immediately making his way Blitzø's office, Ignoring your cries to wait.

Being violently thrown out of Blitzø's office was not how he saw this unplanned little 'Rendezvous' going.

Blitzø stepped out stared down at him, a mixture of disgust and anger plain on his face.

'I'm so sick of this shit stolas' Blitzø grumble out, pinching the bridge between his eyes. 'We made a Fucking deal, I come over ONCE a MONTH and fuck your brains out. And you leave me alone unless you have a job for us.'

Stolas tried to reply, trying to explain why he was there. But before he could Blitzø interjected 'I can put up with all creepy perverted texts and shit, but I am not your God Damned SEXTOY Stolas! I don't want to see your ass don't here again!' He screamed, before slamming the door.

Stolas just sat there. Unwilling to move. He felt like he'd just been slapped.

His eyes stung. His throat burned. He clutched at the ground, and even as his world fell apart around him, he could only focus on one thing.

He felt so cold...

He had no one.

No one loved him.

He felt so cold...

It took everything he had not to breakdown, he couldn't, not here. It was unbecoming of a prince to been seen showing such weakness.

The sudden sensation of something on his shoulder. Daring to open his eyes, he was shocked to find You, standing over him. Hand on his shoulder and a sympathetic smile on your face.

You reached into your coat and removed a handkerchief.

Croutching down you wiped the growing dew around his eyes.

Putting away the hanky, you stood up and offered him a hand.

Helping him to his feet, you asked him if he was okay. Stolas immediately tried to put up his aristocratic facade and assure you he was fine.

Only for the words to die in his throat and for him to almost burst into tears again.

Leading him into the nearby office, you find yourself in the conference room. You sat him on said conference table.

Quickly zipping off, you returned a moment later with a little plastic cup of water.

Handing the little cup, he took it with a wordless thanks.

Stolas felt cold.

He felt like his whole world was falling apart. He had nothing.

His wife couldnt stand him.

His beloved Starfire wouldn't stay in the same room as him.

He had nothing and no one.

No one loved him.

Why should he even go on.

Even through there crimson glow, you could see just how close he was to breaking down.

So before his despair could consume him completely, you did the only thing you could think of.

You climbed atop the conference table and pulled the poor owl-boi into a hug.

It was a little awkward due to the height difference, but standing on the table brought you high enough to pull his head onto your chest.

Stolas was utterly shocked, not just by the action itself, But the fact you did this on your own acord.

He didn't have to barter or beg or make promises for your affection.

You just... gave it freely.

He couldnt help himself.

It had been so long since he'd last felt the loving touch of another soul.

And for you to give affection so openly, he felt he could let himself be vulnerable to you. He releases a long anguished cry, bursting into tears.

You just held him close, gently petting his head, whispering words of comfort, telling him everything would be okay.

He didn't know why but your words brought out

Stolas threw his arms around you, holding onto you as though you were the last anchor in his sea of despair.

The poor owl drenched the front of your shirt with his dejected tears.

Stolas didn't know how long he cried for, and you simply didn't care.

You could tell he needed this and were more then happy to give the demonic prince some much needed affection.

Eventually, Stolas shed all the tears he had, standing up he unintentionally pulled himself from your warm embrace.

Stolas instantly missed the warmth of your touch. The same all consuming coldness as before instantly returning.

Looking up at Stolas you draw your handkerchief and go to wipe his tear stained face.

But before you could, Stolas grabbed your hand, his other hand was placed on the back of your head, he pulls you into a kiss.

You weren't sure how to react, stolas certainly didn't give you any time to figure it out as he pulled you deeper into the kiss.

While you were initially shocked by the kiss, you honestly, didn't care to put up any kind of resistance.

While you would of preferred he asked for a kiss, you could tell the guy needed this. And all things considered, you were happy to oblige him.

So when his tongue slid across your teeth, asking for entrance, you wrapped your arms around his neck you let it in, giving stolas full access to your mouth.

You began leaning into the kiss, doing your best to return his passion.

Stolas, took your returning passion as further permission, he became more aggressive.

His tongue dominated your mouth, as his hands began roamed across your body.

Stolas was in bliss, each time you shivered or moaned, bringing him further pleasure.

Taking each sound as encouragement, he became more and more aggressive. Sure that each sound you made was an unconscious sign of love.

He became more desperate to hear your angelic voice as moaned or cried out. Desperate to hear someone say they loved him.

Gripping his head, you tried to de-escalate the situation before it got out of hand.

Of course that was easier said then done, as Stolas was much stronger then he looked. But after much effort, despite Stolas's silent insistence that you continue, you finally managed to break the kiss.

Stolas's forceful nature found you pushed back onto the table. Stolas towering over you, staring down at you with those awe inspiring crimson eyes.

'We cant be this doing this' You try to tell him 'Not here. What if someone walks in on us?' The question hung in the air. When it became obvious it wasn't deterring his growing need you asked 'What if Blitzø catches us?'

Stolas pulled back at that.

Looking to the side he rubbed his arm, Anxiety bubbling in his chest.

Stolas hadn't thought of that.

What if Blitzø did walk in?

Finding him with one of his employees.

In his office.

Would Blitzø be upset?

Would he yell at him, scream and throw a fit, insisting he had betrayed him...

Would Blitzø even care?

There was a part of him that said 'Of course he would. Blitzø, no matter how much he denied it, surely Blitzø cared for him on some level.'

Stolas could tell himself that all he wanted, but deep down, he knew the truth.

He placed his hand on your cheek, looking down at you. He tried to speak only for a new wave of emotions hit him, causing him on reflex to fall silent.

It was in that moment, as he stood over you, did he realis he didn't need to hide his vulnerability from you. You weren't judging him, he could be vulnerable to you and would judge him for it.

His heart swelled and despite having just met you, he found himself developing a deep yearning to be with you.

'I-I know this is sudden. And you have every right to say no. But please... No one has ever shown me such genuine affection like you have today.'

' I'm so used to people only interested in me for my status or resources.' Stolas held himself, looking dejectedly to the side. A new wave of sorrow enveloping him.

'Your the only one who's shown me the slightes care, past what I could do for them.' He didn't meet your gaze, he ran his hand down your chest, his voice becoming just above a whisper. 'I have nothing (Y/N), I have no one. Right now your the only thing I have.'

'I need to feel something (Y/n), I need to feel something before I fall apart, and I want feel it with you.' He was practically begging you by this point.

Things like pity and mercy were a death sentence in hell.

There was nothing stopping you from saying no. You cared little for royalty. You weren't some door mat that took every word from royalty as gospel.

But right now, this great Demonic Prince standing before you. He didn't want your obedience. He wasn't forcing you to do anything.

He just wanted some sort of affection. something you knew you could give him so easily.

How could you say no?

With a deep sigh, you resigned yourself to your fate. Leaning forward you place your hand under his chin and raised his head to meet your gaze. Stolas was shocked when pulled him close and planted a kiss on his his beak.

'Lock the door' you whispered.

[soobasaur]

are you mine?

— a lee minho au

genre: enemies to lovers minho x gender neutral!reader

a/n: this is for my bestie who has been in a minho obsession lately and needs more content, you know who you are :]

« masterlist

you and minho didnt exactly,,,get along very well for a while

the only reason you both even knew each other was two of your best friends were dating and merged ur friend groups

(thanks a lot binsung 〴⋋_⋌〵)

you wouldnt go as far as to say you hated him

but you liked to pretend you did

you just barely saw him around so why not just mke him your mortal enemy??

it was easier to hate him then admit he was decent company!!

you had a reputation to uphold!!!!

and apparently he did too because he never really disagreed,,,,

you guys just ever had a chance to get off on the right foot and really talk

mutual disagreement <33

the thing is, the both of you were never left alone together

like ever

until that one time yall were abandoned (-д-；)

you and ur friend groups planned a hang out but everyone ended up cancelling last minute with no excuse

it was just you two who didnt get the memo and ended up alone

now that you think about it,,,that sounds like smth ur friends would do on purpose

(again, fuck u binsung!! ᕙ(⇀‸↼‶)ᕗ )

so just picture this,,,you and minho both showing up to an arcade and sitting in silence for an hour before getting a text that everyone cancelled

your immediate thought was to go home bc why would minho want to hang out with you???

but after the both of you read the text in the groupchat he got up and made his way inside, holding the door open and quirking his eyebrow up at you

“well, are you coming or not? I wanna try the new vr game.”

and you were just like \\(⊙︿⊙)// ???

he? wants?? to hang out??? with just you????

but u ended up following him in and he paid for your guy’s tickets ≧◡≦

“just buy me lunch after and we’re even”

lunch??? now this mf wants to get lunch together?!$%

you learned one thing about minho that day

he was,,,competitive,,VERY competitive

like what demon possessed him kind of competitive

whenever he won he would flash you a smirk and skip to the next game as he dragged his row of tickets along

it INFURIATED U!!!

ur pride was in shambles

so you unleashed everything after that and won a good amount of games ;)

u had been eyeing a cute cat plush the entire time but u didnt have enough tickets at the end :((

o(╥﹏╥)o damn it capitalism u just wanted a plushie

you didnt rlly want anything else so you gave your tickets to minho and waited to the side for him to get his prize

he came out with tHE SAME PLUSHIE YOU HAD BEEN EYEING \\( ಠ_ಠ)//

but before you could sulk about it he handed it to you and started to make his way to the exit Ｏ(≧▽≦)Ｏ

and during lunch this bitch ended up paying even after saying you should (｀ε´)

\(▰˘◡˘▰)//\\ (▰˘◡˘▰)//\\ (▰˘◡˘▰)// \\(▰˘◡˘▰)//

After that...hang out if you will,,u started to notice minho everywhere

LIKE E V E R Y W H E R E

why was this bitch all over your college campus?

you never noticed minho was in ur class for the longest time jsskkfk

like all of a sudden u just spotted him out of the corner of ur eye and were like o h

once he noticed you too there was no going back

say good bye to paying attention in class

(as if you ever did anyways)

he started to inch closer to you during class

he even started sending you notes

ಠ▃ಠ and u were so paranoid the professor would catch you

but this bitch was slick so u were fine

ヽ(๏∀๏ )ﾉ

he was the type of guy to throw little crumpled sticky notes at you whenever he wanted to say something during class

they’d be covered with doodles of cats and his scribbly messy handwriting + little hearts

it was usually just some dumb thought he had or a crude drawing of the professor (. ﾟーﾟ)

other than those few notes you guys never really talked outside ur friend group

there was one incident late at night tho

you had a big project coming up and it was 2am and you were...2 sentences in T_T

you deserved a coffee break <3

so that was how you found under the awning of an all night coffee shop

except it wasn't all night and closed right after you got ur coffee!!

and now u were stuck under the awning!!

all you had was your measly hoodie that you stole from changbin and your now soggy cup of coffee as you waited for the rain to pass

you might as well of just stayed home since ur wasting all this time you could’ve been working on your project standing outside

were you gonna work on the project once you got home? no

but did the thought of wasted time still make you mad? yes

you slumped against the shop as you bitterly drank your coffee, crushing the cup between your hands

after a couple minutes you felt the rain above you stop

you look to your side to see,,,minho?!

this mf was holding an umbrella above your head

“here, take my umbrella.”

thats when you noticed the cafe uniform he had on

“you work here?” you asked, before taking the umbrella from his hand

“yeah, your observant ass didnt see me literally make your coffee,”

“oh whoops,,,i thought you hated me, why are you giving me our umbrella?”

“i do, but id rather you uh...not die in the cold looking like a dead rat.”

was it just you or were his cheeks dusted pink?

probably the cold

(y/n you dumb bitch-)

you both walk back to your dorms after that

and he insists you carry the umbrella

cus his poor arms are tired from making coffee all day :((

and maybe it's an excuse to be closer to you

since hes a bit taller he has to crouch and scoot closer to you in order to not get wet >_<

⊙﹏⊙ ⊙﹏⊙ ⊙﹏⊙

over the next few weeks your find urself at the cafe he works at more often

one time you got the hours wrong and he wasnt on shift :(

but when you got up to leave he walked in and spent the day helping you study instead of working

you went for the coffee!! not for him!! definitely not,,,

(¬‿¬)

“look, im only hanging out with you cus you get the employee discount.”

“sure, and not cus you enjoy my company-”

“i 100% despise your company.”

ok but u didnt

u actually /REALLY/ liked his company

like WTF

where has he been all ur life

ew that sounded too romantic

but like fr where was he hiding

(・ε・｀)

soon you both were joining binsung on their dates

but it wasn't a double date!!

it was just four friends hanging out and two happened to be a couple

and they liked to hang out at fancy restaurants and do couple like activities

totally normal!!

there was one incident where you were about to pay for your meal but minho placed his hand on top of yours and slid his card instead

“you can pay on the next date.”

NEXT? DATE??

excuse me sir what do u mean-

you ignored changbin and jisung’s snickers behind you the entire night

when minho walked you home you couldnt help but let urself blurt out

“was this a date?”

minho gave you an incredulous look

“...was it not??”

oh my god this is embarrassing

“OH MY GOD WAS IT NOT?!!”

you ignored how minho was now turning crimson red and panicking and tugged on his collar, pulling him down for a kiss

“it was...a date” you mumble, now shy at the close proximity between the two of you

“...im gonna kill jisung.” he muttered, pulling you in for a hug, “he told me this was a double date”

“that can be our next date, the murder of our best friends.”

“wow i am in love with you.”

＼（＾○＾）人（＾○＾）／

minho and y/n murder besties!!

for legal reasons that is a joke

( ˶˘ ³˘(˵ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°˵)♡

thank you for reading !!

[internalsealpanic]

The Dog and Duck

summary: Dick Grayson is a terrible flirt (in more ways than one).

a/n: Special thanks to @jd-loves-everyone, @littleredwing89, @glorified-red, and @multifandomgirl-us for proofreading! This fic is based on a headcanon by @pricetagofficial (I think) that Dick Grayson is actually terrible at flirting which is just the cutest thing.

warnings: Potential cringe and terrible flirting advice

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

The sound of voices and clinking of glasses mingle around you like a bustling symphony: discordant, rhythmic, clashing but endlessly vibrant. The scent of alcohol hung thick in the air, enough to taste and intoxicate. The amount of people in such a small space made something under your skin hum, whether it was simply an irritable Yasiri or the buzzing energy stored in your bones or maybe even a genuine discomfort, you weren’t entirely sure.

You sip lightly at the scotch in your glass, letting it burn through your throat, but it wasn’t enough to make the itch in it go away completely. 

 You watch Dick’s eyes intently as they slide past you, just over your shoulder. His sentences coalesce clumsily, syllables squishing and clipping at odd ends as his plush bottom lip catches between his teeth. His eyes are glossy with interest even in the dim lights of the pub. His pupils are blown and dark. You fight everything in you to stamp down the urge to huff or roll your eyes. Not that he would have noticed. You’re pretty sure you could stab someone in the eye and Dick wouldn’t even blink, not when he is so enraptured by whatever the hell is behind you. You feel a gross sticky sort of jealousy pool in the pit of your stomach.  You swallow it down not really knowing of any other way to deal with it. 

 You arch a brow, the tips of your nails tapping loudly against the lacquered wood of the table as Dick once again stumbles absentmindedly over his story about Wally West being living proof of the need for warning labels (for people). You click your teeth irritably while Yasiri’s tail rattles against your collarbone before you take another sip, eyes following his only for them to land on a vivacious redhead at the bar. The irritation bubbling in your veins dwindles into mild amusement. Your best friend is a hilariously predictable moron. 

 “She is either a suspect or you’re being a creep.” You tease, the cruel curve of your lips barely obscured by the glass pressed against them. The mockery in your eyes shining amber like the drink in your glass. Dick’s cheeks flush as the playful lilt in your voice lances through the fog in his mind. He looks at you, dopey and red-cheeked as if he didn’t know what you were talking about. You roll your eyes, nostrils flaring letting out a breath caught between a huff and a laugh. “Stalker.” You hiss, trying to smother the warmth in your voice with sheer, unadulterated pettiness. 

 Dick levels you a look, cutting and vicious if he wasn’t flushed. “Am not.” He whines halfheartedly, eyes flicking once again to the woman at the bar. Some part of you is sure you really ought to be mad at him. After all, you haven’t seen each other for almost half a year. This is thanks in part to work and in part to work getting royally fucked up. Thankfully, not because of Gotham’s resident furry and his new little bird boy. Really, you should be furious at being sidelined considering this outing was his idea but here you were smirking into your malt whiskey, tickled. 

 “Then stop staring.” You challenge, unfolding and relaxing into the moldy cushioning of the bar. Dick glares at you, the pout on his lips obscured by his hand as he rests his chin on his palm but you know it’s there. You’ve memorized the plains of his face and how they shaped themselves, a product of spending far too much time staring at the details.  Hey, if he was gonna third wheel you the least you could do was tease him about it. “Or do you want me to wingman for you~”

 “HELL NO”

 You can’t stop the cackle that spills from your lips. “Why not?!”

 “I’m not letting you cockblock me. AGAIN.”

 “That was one tiiime, Joystick.”

 “Once was enough!" 

 "’Fiiiine but to be fair,  you still ended up dating her, didn’t you?” You defended weakly, running your fingers through your hair, jostling the already wind whipped strands. Dick was red-faced. The liquor was definitely working through his system. The color in his cheeks was lively and cute, making him look boyish despite how much he’d grown. You had, in fact, cockblocked him due to an extreme bout of jealousy, childishness, and hormones. Back then you hadn’t yet learned the art of burying your feelings 6 feet under.

 “Fine, fine, fine. Just shoot your shot, Dickie bird.” This does not appease him. He, in fact, crosses his arms over his chest. You set your glass down and raise your brow. “If you fail, I’ll buy you a round.” You add placatingly. Dick’s eyes slide over your shoulder, the lump in his throat bobbing.“Make that two.” 

 Your eyes shine, cat-like the dim lighting of the lamp overhead. You smile at him all cocksure, placing your chin on your intertwined fingers.“Deal.”

 Dick gives you a withering look as he pushes off the table. You take a sip of your daiquiri as he moves through the crowd, gracefully slicing through the sea of bodies. No, maybe they were parting just for him. Dick does have that air about him. A pull that made it so painfully obvious that he was so much more. Dick also had this way of talking that made you unsure of whether you’re being flirted with or if it’s just the way he talks to people. Either way, he had this way of making you feel special and you had no doubt he would sweep this one off her feet.  

 The redhead at the bar tipped her head finally sensing his gaze on her and as per your expectation, she seemed to reciprocate the interest. Not that you can blame her. Dick was a 10 on his worst day. Now that you thought about it, you’ve never actually seen Dick flirt. You’ve seen him banter but flirt? You can’t seem to think of an instance of it. This’ll be fun. 

 You watch him closely and your brows climb higher than you thought they could. Something was off, something very un-Dick-like. There’s an unsteadiness in his step that makes your stomach sink. Dick wouldn’t. Even Dick wasn’t stupid enough to blow his shot just to get a few shots, would he?

 And then it happened.

 “Did it hurt when you hit your face?” Dick asks, winking stiffly. A ripple of pain lances through you followed by an unbearable wave of second-hand embarrassment. “Excuse me?!” Her face morphs into something terrifying before Dick’s brain can catch up. You watch in mute horror as Dick’s face slowly matches the sinking feeling in your gut as embarrassment suffused his entire body. 

 “Wait, shit. I- I meant- Shit. I didn’t mean to say you look like you banged your face. I mean, of course, you don’t-” You watch in fascination as Dick stumbles through apology after apology after apology. Until finally, he gives up. “Actually, I’ll just leave.” Dick shambles gracelessly back to your table while your brain tries to process what just happened. 

 You wheeze against the table, pounding your fist against the table. “Dickie, yanno you did have a shot before you opened your mouth, right?” Your hand is clamped over your mouth trying to stop the shrill cackle bubbling in your throat. 

 “Y/n...” 

 “Jeez, Dicktopus, was gin really worth getting blue balled?”

 “You better have your money,” he sneers, cutting you a scathing look as he slides into the booth. 

 “I-” The smug look on your face vanishes when you reach into your wallet. “If I apologize for you, will you cut me some slack?” you try, brandishing your nearly empty wallet. 

 “I’ll buy you a shot if she doesn’t tell you to fuck off.”

 “Hmm, if I get her number for you, will you get me two?”

 “Sure, why not?” Dick whines petulantly. His head sinks into his arms desperately trying very hard  to implode. You cough into your sleeve trying not to laugh and hope he doesn’t notice. A blush creeps up the tanned skin of his neck. He tries to hide it by placing his hand on his neck but the color’s already made its way to his ears. Feeling a little bad for him, you squeeze Dick’s shoulder once, then twice, then twice once more. You swing your legs dramatically out of the booth. You hear Dick groan and you chuckle. 

 You flick your eyes to him one last time before moving forward. You roll your shoulders, realigning your form into something more suave and less goofy. The rhythm of your feet goes from a clumsy shuffle to a confident saunter. The woman looks at you skeptically, her lashes fluttering mockingly. You move, easy and casual. With a playful grin, you apologize and make up some bullshit excuse about Dick being extremely shy. She eases. You continue on your little sales pitch as if it was the most natural thing in the world.  You draw a laugh out of her. You can hear her heart pick up. She smiles at you telling you that you and your shy friend are fine. You chuckle and promise to tell your long-suffering friend that, tilting your chin towards Dick who is still trying to melt into the table. She scribbles her number onto a napkin and hands it to you with a flirtatious wink. You smile lopsided, cute and sheepish, as you wave her goodbye.

 Dick stares at you with slack-jawed awe. This time you feel genuinely bashful but you shrug it away with a sharklike grin spreading across your face.

“Pay up, pretty bird,” you say slamming the number on the table, teeth gleaming in the low light of the room. The petty satisfaction oozing off of you is almost palpable. Dick looks up at you, his pretty mouth twisting.  “What are you? Seven?”

 “If by seven you mean lucky, then yeah,” you sneer, nudging your empty shot glass against Dick’s shoulder. “Pay up, Dickenson~” you sing. Dick’s face twists even more and he waves you off, pushing off the table.

 “Let’s just go,” Dick bites out, cheeks burning. You bite your lips trying to resist the urge to tease him more but it’s hard. Not when he’s all pouty and cute.  

 “I mean you did just wine and dine me,” you laugh musically. You promised yourself you would stop teasing him but you never said you would stop making jokes. There’s a complicated expression on Dick’s face before it shifts back to exasperation. 

 “You. Are. Awful.”

 You shake your head not even denying it as you follow him out of the old Dog and Duck into the fresh Bludhaven air. 

“How are you good at this?” Dick whines into one of your throw pillows. The poorly counterfeit superman one he had gotten you a few years ago from a trip to the Philippines. He's pouting at you like a kid. To be fair, you did laugh at him in the club (and the whole way back to your safehouse which was not a short walk).

 You chuckle, tapping a cool can of beer against his forehead.“Sadly some of us need to work at being charming, Dimples McGee.” He accepts the can, scowling at you. Your grin doesn’t waver which only serves to deepen his scowl. It was an irritating feedback loop. Well, irritating for Dick. You’re having the time of your life. You settle on the other side of the couch rolling your beer can in your hand. “ Plus, you’ve seen pops talk right? The man sweet talks like his life depends on it.” 

 “Right, I’ll remember to ask him for flirting advice next time he tries to kill me,” Dick says, rolling his eyes at you. You perk up at the awful idea before you snicker and press a hand to your lips in a barely held back smile. It’s Dick’s turn to perk up. His blue eyes shine with interest at your expression like he’s trying to capture it. You turn to him with a serious expression. “Please, please ask him that. I will pay you to record his reaction. Please. Please. Dickle, please,” you beg, moving on your knees to his side, your hands clasped in prayer.  Dick shifts sticking his tongue out at you childishly. 

 “Noooooo!”

 “Pleeeeeeaaaaaseee”

 “No!”

 With an ‘oof’, you plop yourself between Dick’s legs, your chest against his. You stare up at him with eyes mimicking the wide-eyed innocent look he uses on you when he asks for a favor. Dick gives you a sorry look asking you to please drop it. You don’t. You double down trying to look as cute as possible. 

 Dick looks down at you, glaring then grimacing then smiling. “Ok, fine,” he huffs stiffly, wrapping his arms around you. You snuggle up against him, smug in your victory.  Your nose brushes against Dick’s pulse which makes his breath hitch. He squirms under you but you just find yourself laughing. “You. Are. Evil. ”

 “I promise to make your Granny’s goulash,” you say in a halfhearted attempt to appease him. Dick’s face softens  “Now, that’s just bribery.”

 “You’re gonna be a cop here in Bludhaven. You gotta learn how to take bribes.”

 His brows crease as you shake your head. Dick huffs, planting his chin against the crown of your head before pressing his lips to your hair. You feel one of his arms pulling you closer, his hand threading through the tangle of your hair. You smile against his skin, breath tickling him which just makes him squirm. He’s breathless under your touch and you don’t even know it. You two sit basking in the close proximity and the soft intimacy you two shared. Your limbs tangle and twine around each other carelessly. 

 Out of context, you two could have been lovers. 

 You sigh, feeling a bit drowsy from the ‘tussle’. You blink, mind reaching for something. “Wait…. Brucie flirts like his life depends on it too! What’s your excuse?” you grin, jabbing a finger into his chest. Dick scowls at you, clearly flustered again. He stammers, babbling out answers. “Hey, I- I could probably do it...” Dick mutters, finally finding a semblance of coherence. 

  “After that performance?” You challenge, sitting up, eyebrow raised and arms crossed. A sharp laugh spills from your lips. It’s louder than you intended, your entire chest moving along with every exhalation of air. 

 Dick looks at you like a kicked puppy which has you roaring with laughter. “You don’t have to laugh that hard”

 “Admit it, Grayson, you are an actual bonafide dork”

 “I’ll bonafide you,” he growls and you’re bent into the couch cushions, clutching your stomach. Dick looks like your house plant like he’s about to disintegrate. You sit up again and cross your legs. Your lungs expand as you draw in another calming breath before you give him a softer, lopsided smile, placing a hand on his knee and shaking him gently. “Come on, practice on me I’m probably one of the few people you don’t have a stick up your ass around.” Dick, not getting up, puts his hands in his face looking positively mortified by the idea. You make a little affronted noise in the back of your throat and thanks to whatever god is up there that you don’t seem to know how much he doesn’t wanna fuck up flirting with you.   

 “I don’t know how to!” The cry is muffled but the mortification still bleeds through. The admission startles something out of you. “Holy shit, Nightwing can’t flirt his way out of a paper bag. Oh my god, this is great!” you cackle, falling into the cushions. 

 “I’m trying damn it!”

 “Ok. Ok. Ok.” You breathe. You’re still clutching your still aching stomach. You wish you recorded that confession.  “Ok. Phew. Ok, I need a minute,” you say folding over into the cushions again, another bubble of laughter rising in your throat. This is the best ab workout you’ve had in months. 

 “Take your time,” Dick deadpans, rolling his eyes, color rising in his tanned cheeks. 

 “Ooook, I think I’m good. First, we need to work on your wink.”

 “The hell is wrong with my wink?” A wry smile tugs at the corner of your lips. You make vague hand gestures, hoping somehow you could physically pluck the correct words from the air.  “Just try winking, Ric.” Dick raises his brow but gives in. He winks at you in his usual devilishly charming way. You shake your head. “Wink at me like you’re trying to get my number.”

He stiffens and gives you the most artificial wink you’ve seen outside of a bad 50s flick. You drag your hand over your face. “How come you can wink so naturally while fighting and look like you work at in car sales when you flirt”

 Dick tries again. He ends up closing both his eyes and scrunching his nose- looking like a disgruntled puppy. You squeal and Dick’s eyes fly open. Your mouth works to flatten itself but your mind is still picturing the expression. “What?” he growls. You wave him off. “Sorry. Sorry. Just- just try again. Please.” 

 Dick gives you another stiff wink and you’re surprised to find yourself cringing at your best friend for the first time in your life. You drag your hand over your face. “You look like you’re trying to ask me to prom.”

 “You’ve never even been to a prom!”

 “Who do you think scares off Joey’s dates? Pops?” you snort picking up your beer can and taking a sip.  “Did you miss the absentee father part?”

 You both silently agree to move on. 

 “How the flying fuck did you date both Babs and Kory with your atrocious flirting skills?”

 “I have good pick up lines.”

 “Uh, sure, buddy.”

 “It worked on both of them!”

 “Well, hit me.”

 “Call me Fred Flintstone,”  you wait patiently, “cause I’ll make your bedrock.” Another artificial wink. 

 You blink at him, mind still trying to catch up. “Dick you are the epitome of ‘you’re lucky you’re cute’,” you groan, palm flat against your forehead. 

 “I’m not cute! I’m handsome!” Dick protests, mouth twisting into a pout. A shrill squeal is dying in the back of your throat as you draw a breath. You pinch his cheeks, “you pouting just furthers my point.”

 “Are you just trying to destroy my confidence?” Dick whines, lightly shoving you away. 

 “Oh no, the girl back at the club did that. I am just dancing on your grave.”

 “Give me another wink.”

 Dick fails at winking, again. You cringe openly at him and he scowls at you halfheartedly, more defeated than angry. Dick’s used to being good at things, you supposed. You tap your finger against your chin, trying to unspool a thought and rethread it into words. “Ok, figured out one of your problems.”

“Aside from my terminal dorkiness?”

 “You’re too nervous-”

 “You would be too,” Dick cuts in. 

You snicker, teeth bared in a mocking grin. ”Did you miss the part where I got her number?” Dick refuses to answer. You sigh but you can’t keep the smile off your face. “Let’s start with body language because for a guy with so much muscle control you are shit at this.”

 “You’re just gonna keep being mean,” he moans. 

 “I’ll stop being mean when you sweep me off my feet,” you jab. 

 “Ok, fine, maestro. What do you need me to do?”

  “You’ve got to lean into me and smile coyly,” you say vaguely.  Dick leans in close, your noses touching, his lips ghosting over yours. You can feel his breath hot against your lips. It sends bolts of electricity careening through your nerves. Your brain takes its sweet time catching up, giving your body ample time to soak up the proximity of the almost kiss. You gasp then reign yourself in. “Dickle, that’s- that’s a teensy bit too close,” you laugh awkwardly, hands playfully shoving at his chest. 

 Dick shakes out of his haze. “You said to lean in!” he says leaning into your space again. “Yeah, I did but I never said lean in close enough to eat my face. I can smell the gin in your breath,” you snort airly, pushing at his chest again. 

 Dick sits back, embarrassment creeping into his features. His bottom lip is caught between his teeth as if he’s thinking carefully about his next few words. “I’m just-” Dick puts his head in his hands. “Like you said, I’m too nervous.” 

 You raise a brow. The sound that comes out of you is too sharp and disbelieving to be a laugh. “Pfffft, it’s just me, you dork.”

 That’s the problem, Dick thinks. It’s you. The exasperation bleeds into his features. Dick fidgets, shifting and shaking in his seat like a wet chihuahua. Don’t you know how much he wants to get this right for you?. 

 “Stop twitching! You look like you’re having a seizure.”

 “I’m nervous!!” he says. “Don’t you ever get nervous about a person you like?”

 You side eye him. “I do,” you admit, rubbing your thumb over your tattoo out of habit. Dick’s eyes widen, then narrow. You see the word ‘who’ forming on his lips but his train of thought is cut off by the sound of Yasiri’s tail rattling against your skin as she emerges. Your poor danger noodle is likely frustrated with the lack of progress. You quietly thank her by scratching her chin.  “Whatever made this world just decided that you had to have at least one very obvious flaw,” you say, insincerely patting him on the back.

 “You're enjoying this.”

 “Way more than you think,” you say grinning at him. Dick simply grimaces at you. “You’re not helping me.”

 “Were you really expecting me to help?” You shrug. “Why would I do that?”

 “I’d help you!”

 You level him with a flat look. “No, you wouldn’t. You’d laugh just as hard as I did.” Dick opens his mouth then closes it. He opens it again. You raise your brow at him. “ I- ok yeah. No, I would laugh harder,” he says, giving you a cheeky, lopsided smile. Vindication and something warmer tug your features into a smile.

 “Just… relax and be yourself,” you mock sagely. Dick rests his head on yours. “ I hate you,” he groans, pressing his shoulder into yours. 

  “You’re just thinking about it too much,” you say, pressing back, “just do what’s natural. The more you over try the funnier it is.”

 “Goes back to my problem of being nervous,” he huffs into your hair. You boop his nose. “Goes back to my point about you overthinking things.”

 “I’m not!”

 “Fine.”

 “Fine?”

 “Fine,” you say, reaching back and presenting your danger noodle in your palm, "practice on Yazzy.”

 “You’re not serious?”

 You hold up the clearly unamused snake eye level with Dick. “Go on." Dick gives you a withering look. He exasperates, then looks deep into Yasiri’s black eyes. He opens his mouth and Yasiri flicks her tongue at him. The next few things happen in quick succession. Dick’s body relaxes. His face breaks into a smile that makes your heart flutter. He lets out a bubble of laughter that has you jumping and reaching for your own breath. "I can't!" he gasps. You both dissolve into laughter. 

 “Suit yourself - but prepare to have blue balls," you grin, punching his shoulder, "at least, they'll match your new suit!" you cackle. Dick flushes red.“I - I - you are legally the worst and most unhelpful human being in modern history!”

 Your cackle rises higher even as Dick shoves a pillow in your face. You push it away and wipe the tears away from your eyes. “Just practice on me, go on,” you say, reaching out, “once more." He frowns at you. "Please?”

 Dick closes his eyes. His movements become leisurely the way you've seen him when he's about to do a routine on the trapeze. “Do you have a map?” he says, pushing a strand of hair out of your eyes. The oxygen in your lungs evaporates. Heat spreads from the line of skin Dick’s finger grazed to the rest of your body. You swallow trying not to collapse under the weight of his gaze. You realize he's expecting an answer. "No, why?” you stammer out stupidly. 

  “Because I keep getting lost in your eyes,” he says, eyes glittering in the dim lights of your apartment. Some part of your brain short circuits, fizzing out in sparks and fire, then the rest of your brain follows. The entire structure goes out in a puff of smoke. You're completely frozen. Dick watches you with a furrowed brow, bottom lip caught between your teeth. Apprehension rolls off of him in waves and you can feel your lungs work again. "Exactly! Exactly that!" You squeal in delight. Dick smiles relieved. "I knew you could do it, you magnificent dork. I could kiss you right now!" you say squishing his cheeks and pressing your forehead against his. Dick’s breath catches. There's a hopeful look in his eyes. "Would you?" 

 Something clogs your throat as you pull away. You're pretty sure it's your heart. You force the nervous laughter in your throat into something else. "Need practice with that too, Dickens?" 

 "Dunno," he hedges, eyes holding yours, "you tell me." His hand cups the side of your face. You ease into his touch like a marshmallow dissolving into hot cocoa. "Can I?" he whispers, thumb brushing against your bottom lip. He's being careful with you you realize. Your eyes flutter closed. You can feel your nerves disentangling. They cross and recross so that you're fully aware of your lips. The gap between the two of you is small but it feels so impossibly big. Anticipation, anxiety, and excitement all thicken the spaces between you. You want him. You want this. Is it so wrong? 

 "Yes."

Tag list:  @batarella, @anothertimdrakestan, @lucy-roo, @multifandomgirl-us, @idkmanicantenglish,@birdy-bat-writes,  @boosyboo9206, @americasmarauders , @l-inkage, @arestorationofbalance , @cloudie-skay, @wunderstell   @hyp-oh-critical @glorified-red

[wroteclassicaly]

“There’s not a single reason I can think of for me to let you see her. You may be her father, but I’m her everything.” and “There’s nothing you can do, this is it. This is how it goes.” for Andy if your still doing prompts :)

Thank you very much! I hope you like these? :)) ❤️❤️❤️❤️

This one isn’t for the faint of heart, y’all! It’s pretty dark & intense!

~*~

7. “There’s not a single reason I can think of for me to let you see her. You may be her father, but I’m her everything.”

69. “There’s nothing you can do, this is it. This is how it goes.”

She’s sleeping soundly again, not noticing the raging summer storm that rests beyond the cottage windows. You tuck your fingers underneath the spare tufts in her pink blanket, enjoying the warmth. When she stirs you give her back a rub, pulling her closer to your chest. Baby Dolan is a snorer, much like her dad can be.

Andy.

You were trying (and failing) not to think about him. Ever since the incident had occurred, you basically checked out. Leaving your apartment behind, only giving your mother your contact information - you drove here with your newborn. The little one stirs, making those cute little bubbly noises of contentment, and that sends you into those stomach-churning memories. Andy.

You have been in love with Andy Dolan since you were assigned as his assistant when he got his big break. But he always put your advances on the back burner, instead choosing what fame had brought, along with addiction. You even had to watch him marry another woman and get her pregnant, losing himself further - demolishing his marriage, abandoning his daughter. Like a fool you had stood by him, vowing to help him, especially once his career began spiraling. You felt like a maid, cleaning up after him, reminding him to shower or change his clothes sometimes.

It went on that way for months. How naïve you were to think you could save him by yourself. He needed help, someone professional to hold the suitcase whilst he unpacked the baggage. You nearly paid the price for your loyalty, almost losing the one good thing Andy ever did give you - a baby girl. Your whole entire world and then some.

You became one of Andy’s typical one night stands and a cliche result had erupted. He had promised he would shape up, but you knew that if he couldn’t care enough for Sky, he wasn’t going to care enough for his second born. Still, you gave him every available chance to be involved. When he stopped answering your texts and failed to tell you about a movie he received a role in - you had to check reality. Andy Dolan fucked you because he could, not because he loved you or respected you, hell, he probably had forgotten all that you’d done for him.

He came to one ultrasound and sent you flowers for the birth. You and your daughter were another tabloid story in his life. Then when you had the little girl, it took Andy three weeks to request a visit, one that was cut abruptly short when he was holding the baby and she threw up on his silk robe, upsetting him. He handed her off and told you he’d be right back. He never came back, not until you left.

Another month had went by before you even considered letting him ask you to bring her over. He was ready to leave for his movie and he wanted to visit her. You supposed you owed it to your child to make it work. Boy you were foolishly wrong...

Andy seemed sober, clean and shaven. That’s why you decided to let him watch her as you briefly went to change your t-shirt to nurse her easily. Mere minutes ticked by and that’s when you remember the sickening crash from downstairs, preceding the horrifying wail that came from your child’s lips. Your heart is racing at reliving the memory, feeling that dreading lurch, that vice like chill that froze your blood, sticking to your insides like a paralyzing plague. You saw the mess of blankets when you had rounded the corner, then you finally caught sight of your babygirl.

She lay in a heap on the floor, on her back, screaming in a tiny terror that made you collapse and crawl towards her on your shaky knees. You had gathered her up and looked over her, cozying her to your chest to try and calm her tiny, racing heartbeat. The tears were pouring from your eyes, much like they blur your vision now. You can still see Andy stumbling in, running a hand through shorter hair, pupils dilated, looking at the counter, at the baby, then at you. It didn’t take a genius to realize that your newborn had fallen from his countertop and onto the cold floor.

His own brain had struggled to comprehend, putting a hand up to signal an apology, eyes wide and glazed.

“I didn’t... I only left her up there for a second. Y/N...”

You didn’t care how he had began to tremble, the water pooling in his own vision. It took a near tragic event for him to see that getting high and leaving his newborn daughter alone on a kitchen counter was dangerous? His staff charged in moments later, coming to your aid. You were on autopilot when you handed them the shaky infant. As soon as she was safely out of your arms and they stepped away, you charged at Andy - fists pounding on his chest, hands smacking at every inch you could reach.

“You stupid fucking junkie! You almost killed our baby!”

“I didn’t know, I didn’t mean to! Y/N, I would never do anything to —“

Smack. You had backhanded him so hard that he collided into the edge of the counter by force. You had panted through with a breast - soaked shirt, the baby still fussing in the background. You were eerily strong in your watery voice. You jabbed a finger at him.

“You better fucking leave for your crappy film, because if you don’t I will have you thrown in fucking jail! You need help, but I’m through trying to be the one that gives it to you! And I don’t want your empty apologies, I don’t want your money to help with her, I don’t want anything to do with you! If you attempt to come near me or my child, I will make sure you regret ever meeting me, do you understand, Andy?”

You left him in shambles, taking your baby with you. You’d gotten her looked over and admitted what happened. The press had put together a story and you knew it was inevitable that your business was going to be blasted. You hadn’t cared anymore. You didn’t want your child’s traumatic ordeal as a tabloid headliner, but she also needed to be seen by a doctor after her fall, and you wanted her to be cleared of injury.

Andy’s reputation didn’t matter to you. Once the comments started flooding in, Andy’s team had blowed your phone up - Andy included, attempting to smooth things over. You didn’t want to deal with the exposure that came with his lifestyle, not right then, so you took your baby for some solitude. The baby coos in her sleep, restarting your current predicament. You draw a shape on her tiny cheek, trying to ignoring your buzzing cell phone.

Andy may not know where you are, but that hasn’t stopped him from exploding on your phone for the past six weeks. Each message more desperate and broken than the last. His apologies, his regret, his newfound sobriety shining through. You aren’t having it. Being grateful that he’s sober and forgetting what had to happen for him to be humiliated and forced into it are two very different things. You raise up to tuck the baby into her downstairs crib, scrolling across your recent text message notification thread with her father.

Y/N... you have to have heard that I’ve been clean for a month now. C’mon, please?

I can see Sky, why can’t I see her?

You know how much I care about you too.

I fucked up, sweetheart. Please don’t do this.

I didn’t mean to get you dragged into this motherfucking nightmare...

You can’t take it anymore. Your fingers tap harshly at the phone, pressing send.

“There’s nothing you can do, this is it. This is how it goes.”

The dots of a wavy response begin immediately.

I’m her father! I need to see her, to be with her! I love her, I love

The dots stop and then start themselves, settling on silence. Your heartbeat is thrumming in your throat. You’re not even getting into your feelings for him, or whatever feelings he’s pretending to have for you. You shake it off, giving one of your last responses.

“There’s not a single reason I can think of for me to let you see her. You may be her father, but I’m her everything.”

You don’t pick up your phone to read anything else, but you can’t deny the irritating sting that comes when he doesn’t send another response. That’s cut off, however, when your phone begins to ring. You hold it in your hands, Andy’s picture and name staring back at you from the glowing screen. You direct your focus to the baby and her sweet blonde curls, sound asleep, your eyes dancing back to her daddy on the screen.

“What the fuck am I supposed to do?” You whisper into the silence of the room.

The thunder roars in the distance, your only response.

Angst/Argument Prompts

Andy babes tag list :

@dark-mei-rose @plymptxn-reborn @bloodcoatedeclipse @littledemondani @fckinsupreme @instinctsxbaby @sojournmichael @ritualmichael @codyfernuk @icylangdon @celestialrequiem @infernwetrust @xavier-plymptons @xavierplympton @9layerdevilfoodcake @langdxn @lovelylangdonx

[infernwetrust]

Wandering Eyes [Michael Langdon x Fem Reader] Pt 1.

PART 2

Summary: The one where Michael catches your attention in his outpost and an underlying tension brews between the two of you. 2 part series.

Warnings: semi-smut, angst, swearing

WC: 2.05k

You were never the type to snoop around. You were usually pretty good about minding your business. You ate the food, you listened to the stupid rules, and you made sure to remain abstinent. That was, until, the anti-christ showed up and it all changed. He peaked your curiosity unlike any other man. You studied him and his every move. You watched as he sauntered around the outpost , intimidating everyone that he decided to keep alive just a little longer, with just his mere presence. And while everyone refrained from looking him in his eyes, how could you? Those ocean blue eyes were more than enough to draw you into him. There was no doubt in your mind that you wanted this man. You wanted him to touch you, to tease you, and to violate you, but just like everyone else, you kept your distance, out of fear. There were times where you would walk by his office and he would leave his door open just enough. It wasn't like he didn't know what all was going on around him, anyways. And like a fool, you'd peak your head in there. He caught you a few times and of course you ran off. He liked that. He could tell that you were interested in him.

You recall the night that you were walking down the hallway, back to your room. Everything was routine as usual, with mostly everyone in bed. As you made it half way down the hall, getting closer to Michael's room, where you hoped, the door was cracked once again, you heard soft moans and low groans. And when you got there, his room door was more than just a little bit cracked. It was wide open and there he was. He stood at the end of his bed, naked, with the known compost slut, giving him oral sex. Immediately sensing your presence, he looked up at you and the two of you made eye contact. Your breath hitched in your throat and his stared deeply into your soul. A wicked grin slowly made way across his face. Grabbing the girls head, he pushed it back and forth on his length faster, moaning louder, the faster he moved her head. He never broke eye contact with you and you never broke eye contact with him. It was almost as if you couldn't move. It was almost as if he was holding you in his trance, forcing you to watch, what he knew, you wanted so desperately. He continued to lock eyes with you, biting down on his lip. You could feel yourself soaking through your panties as you watched him be pleasured by another, wishing it was you.

Soaking up all the will power that you could find, you managed to break yourself from his gaze and you ran back to your room. You couldn't get in there fast enough, slamming the door behind you and leaning up against it. Breathless, you were and you slowly slid down the door, clutching your knees to your chest. You were still soaking wet and all you could hear now was Michael's wicked grin as he penetrated your thoughts.

Tonight, however, it was different. Michael was upset and the whole compost was going to know about it. It was between the rapid temperature changes, to his throwing about of the furniture, oh and his personal favorite, torturing the poor souls that couldn't leave this place no matter how much they wanted to or risk the dangers of the world that was now in shambles. Tonight, it was different. Sick and tired of, you decided that you wanted to speak up and speak out. You got tired of being extremely hot or being extremely cold. You got tired of hearing things break while you tried to muster up what ever sleep you could at night. You got tired of hearing the screams of the damned and Michael's laugh as he did it.

"You just have to go out of your way to let the whole fucking outpost know, huh?" you mumbled to yourself as you went to pick up your fork. Unfortunately, he heard you. And of course, he didn't like what he heard. Before you could even blink, everyone else around you was gone. Michael had made them disappear. They would be back later. He slammed his hands down on the table in front of you, fury in his eyes, as he met your gaze. You flinched, hard as he swiped everything that was in front of you off the table and onto the ground.

"You..." he said, jaw clenched. "I take you. And I let you stay in my fucking outpost and you think you can disrespect me like this?!"

"Get a grip, Michael. You're here, trying to bring about this "new world" and as far as I'm concerned, nothing has change. We're all just going to die here right?" Before you could even get another word out of your mouth, he had you by the throat, pinned up against the wall. You were afraid, but the lust in you was burning. He squinted his eyes at you, cocking his head to the side.

"Bold all of a sudden are we?" He tightened the grip on your throat. "You watch my every move. And even when I ignore your wandering eyes, you remain so persistent. Yet when faced with adversity, like you are now, you panic."

"I-" you croaked, wanting to get a sentence out, but his only response to your efforts was to squeeze your throat harder. He squeezed just enough to keep you alive, but to also keep you on the brink of death.

"I'm still fucking speaking." he said. "I mean I am right, right? Panicking. That's what you're doing now, correct? Oh Y/N. You're not the first." You grabbed onto his arm, clawing at it, just wanting a little bit more air than he was giving you, but he wasn't going to let up. He finally had you right where he wanted. He was waiting for the day that you decided that you were going to challenge him in his own domain. Believe it or not, you peaked his curiosity too. Plenty of girls that came in and out of Michael's outpost tried to throw themselves at him and some his used to his pleasure. The rest he got annoyed with and just killed, but you were special.

"You're not the first stupid little girl to take an interest in me. I could feel the sexual frustration in the air the moment I laid my eyes on you, but yet you kept away." Tired of watching you semi choke he let go, you gasping for air as you were finally able to take some real breaths. "What changed in you tonight Y/N? Did you get tired of rubbing your little wet cunt about me? Oh and don't lie either. I'll know if you lie." Still coughing, he answered his own question, too impatient to wait for your answer.

"Most of the nights, I would watch you. Don't worry, I was never actually in your room. I'd sit in my chair, close my eyes, and I'd let mind slowly follow yours. And that's how I saw." he walked back over to you, kneeling so that he was eye level with you once again. "And I mean, fuck, you looked so good playing in that pussy of yours. I'd watch and watch and watch, hand down my pants, whispering your name. Do you remember now? Yeah... The little voice that you hear every time you do it, in the back of your head, that's me."

"Fuck you, Michael." was the only thing that you could say once you finally regulated your breathing again.

"Oh, baby, is that what you want?" He moved closer to you, gripping your chin and snapping your head up, holding it in place, so you could continue to look at him. "That's all you've ever wanted since I walked in here, huh?" You snatched your chin away from his hand, glaring at him. You hated that he made you feel this way. You hated that he was so right. "Just be honest with me, Y/N. It could be so simple." He grabbed you by the throat again and your body instantly went back into panic mode, scared that he was going to choke you again. Out of impulse you grab his wrist in an attempt to stop him.

"Ssh. Ssh. Ssh. Don't be afraid, darling. Just tell me how you want to be my little slut. That night, I gave you the chance to be, but like a horny little coward, you ran away. Perhaps I have to work on my technique a little better." He grazed his lips against the side of your cheek, not letting go of your neck. He made his way to ear, giving if soft nibbles, before licking on your earlobe. It sent shivers down your spine and you swear you almost fainted as you became weak underneath his touch. He chuckled quietly to himself as he basically watched you melt from his touch. "I think I'm done speaking. I want to play now."

Catching you off guard, he stood straight up, sweeping you off of your feet, carrying you away bridal style. And with the snap of his fingers, the dining room was back to normal. You could hear the confused voice as Michael carried you away to his bedroom. Using his foot to shut the door behind him, he threw you on the bed, kicking his shoes off and climbing on top of you. He immediately pressed his lips against yours and all of your morals shot out the door. You kissed him back, wrapping your arms around his neck. Or well, at least you tried to. He pinned your arms above your head, shoving his tongue down your throat in a kiss that showed you just how much he wanted to play. Using his own legs, he spread opened yours, planting himself firmly in-between them. You could barely understand what was happening and why it was happening, but none the less, Michael fucking Langdon was giving you his full and undivided attention. You could feel his erection, aching to break through his pants, so naturally, your thrusts you hips upwards, wanting his bulge to connect with your hot core, but he pushes you back down.

"I don't think so." And like magic, he was off of you, you were tied up to his bed and he sat in his chair at the front of the bed, completely naked, showing off his long and thick cock, fully erect. He made sure that your mouth was taped shut, so that you couldn't utter a word. "Let's try this again, shall we?" At the snap of his fingers, you were brought back to that night. A girl appeared in the room with the two of you and without command, she was already on her knees in front of him, giving you a show that you did not want to see. You became enraged, pulling at your restraints, not wanting to see any of it. Again, it wasn't you.

"Look at me, Y/N." he demanded, but he wasn't speaking to you with his mouth. Instead he was speaking to you with his mind, just like he told you he would the countless nights you would moan his name, playing with yourself,  wishing he would visit you in your room at least once. You could resist and you got trapped in him again. "Good... Speak to me with your eyes. Invite me in."

Trapped in him, you listened to his moans and his heavy breathing. This time you didn't fight to break his gaze. He wasn't even blinking as he watched you, squirming around in his seat. His moans got louder and his breathing and panting faster, shorter, and heavier, as he got closer to his climax. All of this was disrupted as Michael abruptly stopped, snapping his head in the direction of his wide open bedroom door. You turned to look too, but there was no one there. Angrily, he pushed the brown haired girl that in between his legs away, grabbing his boxers and pants off the floor before hurrying out the door.

"I sense a disturbance. I'll be back to deal with you shortly."

Taglist: @jimmason @angelicmichael @whatcodysaid

[joestarsecrettecnique]

I am so very sick and tired of the toxicity that’s been poisoning the snk fandom as of the last couple years. I gave myself time to digest the ending and my feelings on it, before embarking in a journey to debunk many misconceptions and critiques I’ve seen floating in the fandom.

By the way, by no means I think this ending is perfect. I think this is textbook execution by Isayama to tie together every loose end left behind in an orderly manner, and I think that it was a bit rushed and oversimplified. I would’ve wanted more of Eren and Armin’s conversation, more of the squad realizing what his true goal had been, and some narrative choices I don’t 100% agree with. But still, what I saw in other fans’ critiques post 139 frankly appalled me, so I feel the need to make this. Also, this obviously are my own interpretations, I am not Isayama himself lol

“Ew, so Eren did pull a Lelouch after all”

No, Eren did not pull a Lelouch. While his action and the final result may seem similar, I find very different nuances between the two. Lelouch wanted for the whole world to be united in fighting against him, and thus he made himself the world’s greatest enemy. His will to turn himself into a monster was selfless. Eren didn’t give a damn about the world, he had no noble intentions whatsoever. He said it in chapter 122, his goal was to protect Paradis and, more specifically, his closest friends. He turned himself into a monster, killed 80% of human population, and endangered the lives of those very friends he wanted to protect, so that by stopping him, those friends could be safe. Eren had no intentions to break out of the cycle of hatred or unite the world against himself, he just wanted to give his friends a chance to survive, and that is not selfless, it’s selfish. Eren’s goal was incredibly selfish, and biased, and driven by his feelings instead of rationality. Nothing like Lelouch!

Now this, this I myself am not the greatest fan of. I feel like it makes that great scene in chapter 122 loose a bit of its strength, Ymir obeying the king for 2000 years just because she loved him. Honestly, I always thought there was a bit of Stockholm Syndrome going on, but I didn’t think it would be the only reason. However, like it or not, it’s undeniable that it makes perfect sense in the narrative that aot has always strived to tell. Love has been a theme strongly woven in the story, and it also draws a great parallel between Karl Fritz/Ymir and Eren/Mikasa. Ymir was a slave to her love for King Fritz, just like Mikasa was a slave to her love for Eren, in that she struggled to accept reality until the very end despite the atrocities that Eren committed. Ymir stayed bound by her love for King Fritz, until she saw Mikasa break from her own poisoned love, aknwoledge it, and kill Eren despite of it, or maybe because of it. Only Ymir knows that one, heh. But the point is, Mikasa showed Ymir that she could break free of a toxic love, she was that someone that Ymir had been waiting for to finally free her of her burden.

“What? But that makes no sense!”

Now, on my first read, I simply thought that Eren had ordered Dina to avoid eating Berthold, and that he had made her walk down that road unaware that his mother was trapped (because we know that the Attack Titan’s future memories aren’t infallible, there are still gaps), killing her indirectly. I’ve since then read some theories stating that Eren willingly killed his own mum in orther to give kid himself a reason to feel enough hatred to kickstart the whole story. Honestly, I like this version maybe more! But let me explain to you why this is not a plothole, like many people think. In this same chapter, we have Eren explaining how the Founder’s power works in synergy with the Attack’s: “There’s no past or future, they all exist at once”. This means that time travel in aot doesn’t work in a manner where Eren extracts himself from time and space, and from a separate realm he operates on the past. The way I understood it, the mechanics works kind of like Tokyo Revengers’ time travel. MInd you, I only watched episode one, so my understanding might be jackshit.

Spoilers for Tokyo Revengers’ episode one. In the show, the main character loses consciousness and finds himself reliving his past. He interacts with someone in this “new” past, and when he wakes up again in the present, past events had been over-written by the changes he made. I think this is how aot timetravel works, with the exception that, since past and future (and present, of course) all happen at once, side by side, there is no old past to be rewritten, neither a future to return to, and present Eren wouldn’t be aware of the changes that his future self would make. It creates sort of a time paradox, yes, in the sense that there’s a loop where present Eren’s mom has been eaten because future Eren, in the future, operated on the past by causing past Eren’s mom to be eaten, but all these Erens are one and the same, as all timelines exist at once.

“Boo-hoo they ruined Eren’s character, he’s such a wimp!”

I have to confess (isn’t this appalling, that this is a thing that I have to confess, what the actual fuck), I am an Eren stan. I absolutely do not consider myself a Jaegerist, I think Eren’s option was better than Zeke’s, yes, but it was morally wrong and awful and he absolutely was not only in the wrong, but also if he wasn’t dead I’d want him to be punished for his crimes. I didn’t particularly enjoy him pre-timeskip, and I started to like him because I found his evolution fascinating. I wanted to understand his motives, what was going on in his head, he was a puzzle that I wanted to solve. Maybe because I’m a psychologist, who knows. Anyways, if you’re an Eren stan only because he acted like a chad and now you cry his character was ruined, I’m sorry to say, you never understood him. Eren was not a god, he was not a strategist playing 5d chess with perfect rationality, Eren was the same he has always been. He was a young man spun along by his passions. Eren feels things with burning intensity, he lets himself be driven by his emotions. He almost flattened the world because he was disappointed that he and his friends weren’t the only human beings inhabiting it, for fuck’s sake, he’s always been irrational, selfish, and immature. Of course he doesn’t wanna die, of course he want’s to live with all of them. You really expected a 15 year old hot-headed brat to become Thanos after he suddenly found out he killed his own mum and all his dreams had been crushed? Of course he felt conflicted, of course he suffered, of course he wanted to live, “because he was born in this world”. Honestly, when I read his meltdown, I felt relieved that his character hadn’t been turned on its head, it was heartbreaking to see that he really was the same brat he’d always been, that he’d tried to steel himself to do horrible shit for his friends’ sake and that he felt bad about it! It made me appreciate his character a lot more, I felt nostalgic towards the times when I was irritated by his screaming and pouting. Suffice to say, this is also my answer to all those people that believe his internal monologue to convince himself the Rumbling was what he really wanted were bullshit since he “pulled a Lelouch”. How can it be bullshit? Maybe he planned to be stopped, but he also said that he thought he would’ve still done it if they hadn’t. He also said that killing a majority of the population was something that he wanted to do, not a byproduct of the alliance not stopping him early enough, because with the world’s militaries in shambles Paradis would’ve had time to prepare accordingly. Anyways, of course he needed to convince himself to do this awful thing even if he knew he wasn’t gonna succeed completely, can you imagine how horrible it would be to know your only chance is to kill thousands?

I also maybe think it was because of the spine centipede thingy? When Eren says “I don’t know why I did it, I wanted to, I had to”, he gets this faraway look on his face and we get a zoom in on one of his eyes, which is drawn very interestingly and kinda looks like the Reiss’ eyes when they were bound by the War Renounce Pact? So maybe it was also the centipede’s drive to survive and multiplicate that forced Eren to do the Rumbling so that its life wouldn’t be endangered. I don’t know how much I like this, I feel like it takes some agency away from Eren and also makes it feel like he’s not as responsible for the genocide he committed that we initially though, which mhhh maybe not, let’s have him take full responsibility for this. As I said, I’m not defending Isayama blindly, I do have some issues myself with what went down.

“What the fuck, did he say thank you for the genocide?”

Guys c’mon, this is like,, reading comprehension. Yes, it was poorly worded and a bit rushed, but by now you should have full context to make an educated guess on the fact that no, he didn’t thank him for committing a genocide what the fuck you guys. Armin started bringing up the idea that maybe they should have Eren eaten because he was doing morally questionable things ever since the Marley Arc, which for manga readers was like what, 2018? Isayama has been showing for three years how not okay Armin was with Eren’s actions, how could it make sense for him to thank him for a genocide? You see some poorly worded stuff, and your first instinct is to ignore eleven years’ worth of consistent characterization to jump to the worst interpretation possible? Let’s go over this sentences and reconstruct what they mean.

“Eren, thank you. You became a mass murdere for our sake. I won’t let this error go to waste”. Armin recognizes that Eren had no other choice, but does not condone it. He clearly calls it an error, which feels like an euphemism but for all we know the japanese original term used could’ve been harsher. Point is, he clearly states he think what Eren did was wrong. But he recognizes that Eren’s awful doing opened up a path for Paradis to break out of the cycle of hatred. Not a certainty, but an opportunity. He thanks Eren for giving them this chance, and promises not to waste it, even if it was born out of an atrocity. He thanks Eren for sacrificing himself for their sake, even if he doesn’t agree with the fruit of his labor, so to speak. He’s thanking Eren for the opportunity that his actions gave them, not for the actions themselves! Where the hell do you read “thank you for the genocide” guys, sheesh. I’m mad at y’all.

“How could Eren send MIkasa memories if she’s an Ackerman and an Asian, and their memories can’t be manipulated by the Founder? I call plothole!”

Now, here we’re going into speculation territory, so you’ve been warned. I don’t think that that information they gave us was true, about Ackermans being immune to memory manipulation. We know at least that the clan is in some way subject to the Founder’s power, or Mikasa and Levi wouldn’t have been called in the Paths by Eren multiple times. Stories never being entirely true or false, or relativity, better said, has been a strong theme in the story, we know this by Marley’s and Eldia’s different accounts of history compared to the actual Ymir backstory we got. So who’s to say that the belief that Ackermans aren’t manipulable is the truth? Maybe they’re just hard to control, not impossible. We know that by the Founder’s ability Eren experienced past and future happening simultaneously, so he could’ve very well been trying to send those memories into Mikasa’s head ever since the beginning of the story, only just succeeding in chapter 138. It would at least explain Ackerman’s headaches as Eren trying to manipulate their memories and failing. Of course, we’d need Levi side of thing to know for certain, as he had headaches too and we weren’t shown in the chapter if Eren spoke to him in paths like he did with the rest of the squad. We know he didn’t talk to Pieck, but he even went and spoke to Annie who he basically hadn’t seen since Stohess, so I hope he spoke to Levi too. Who knows, maybe he even spoke with Hanji, but she died before she could remember. I wish we were shown that, honestly, I’m sad that it was skipped, especially after Levi said in an earlier chapter that “there was so much he wanted to tell Eren”. Fingers crossed for the anime to expand on it.

“So Historia’s pregnancy was useless”

What? No, it wasn’t useless! Eren told her to get pregnant to save her life, so that she wouldn’t be turned into the Beast Titan. If she became the Beast Titan, then Eren would’ve had to enact the plan with her instead of Zeke, and yeah, Ymir brought the power of the titans with her, so theoretically Titan Shifter Historia would’ve had her time limit removed, but we saw that the only way for the Alliance to stop the Rumbling was killing Zeke, so Historia would’ve had to die. Useless to say, when Eren talked to her about his plan, she was very vocally against it, so I don’t think she would’ve helped Eren with his plan. It was Zeke or nothing, and the only way for Zeke to keep his titan was for Historia to be unable to be turned, hence the pregnancy. Did y’all read the same thing I read? Anyways, she could’ve definitely been handled better, but she wasn’t necessary to the plot anymore, and her being removed from it in such a way was sad, yes, but it made sense.

“They massacred Reiner!”

Yeah, can’t really say anything about this. I definitely understand the sentiment behind this scene, which I appreciate. It’s to show that thanks to his Titan being removed and the times of peace approaching, Reiner was finally able to shed the weight he bore on his shoulders and “regress” to his more carefree persona he had when he thought he was a soldier, instead of a warrior. I am very happy for him, and I think it’s a nice conclusion to his arc, that he’s finally happy, but it could’ve been portrayed in a less comic relief-y way. It just sledgehammers all his characterization. Feels surreal that we saw him attempt suicide a couple month ago in the anime and now he’s sniffing Historia’s handwriting.

Guys, this absolutely sends me. There are people who unironically believe Eren actually reincarnated in a bird? Guys. It makes no sense, it violates every rule that Isayama established for his universe’s power system. How could he even reincarnate in a bird? Guys, c’mon, this is symbolical! Birds have been heavily used in aot to portray freedom, and this is a nice, poetic, symbolic way to show that Eren who lived his whole life chasing freedom and never actually got it, is finally free, like a bird, now that he’s dead. It’s also a pretty explicit nod to Odin, I think. Aot is heavily inspired by Norse Mithology, and I think there were some pretty clear parallels between Eren and Odin/Loki in the later arcs of the story. Eren has been shown to “communicate” through birds like with Falco in chapter 81, or with Armin in chapter 131. Emphasis on “communicate” because again, this is symbolic, I don’t think he actually spoke through the birds, he simply talked to them via paths, but birds are associated with Eren’s character (see also the wings of freedom, y’know?) and the shots were framed so to give the impression that he was talking through the birds, but he wasn’t. Symbolism. Anyway, I really think they were supposed to be a nod to Odin’s crows.

Aaaaand that should be it! Even though I most definitely forgot some other criticism on the chapter, it’s crazy the amount of negativity floating around. Hope I didn’t bore you!

[florencwrites]

... and war 〚dreamwastaken〛

in which clay finds out firsthand, sometimes oblivion is bliss

part 1

"You do that a lot, you know?" She curled up in a ball on her side, glancing at the LED screen sideways. She'd been confined to this bed for a little over four months, the injuries to her head apparently so fucking impossible to figure out. It wasn't life threatening, they knew, but in what way wasn't it? She'd lost her life the second her head had made an impact with the window, the second her frail body had decided to give up on its, quite vital, functions.

His face lit up at the sound of her voice, eyes lingering on the screen a little longer than he had planned. He replied with a faint exhale. "What?"

"Worry." His brows unfurrowed the second the syllables left her mouth, his face relaxing as he opened his mouth to speak, to say anything. He closed it again soon after, realizing there was nothing he had on her. He did worry, a disturbing amount, too, perhaps. At least lately he did. No improvement for weeks will do that to any man, he reckoned. The love of his fucking life had been trapped inside her own mind for weeks with not even a glimpse of progress in peripheral.

"You're right." He nodded as his eyes slowly traced back towards the television, the new television he had finally been able to get her to allow him to get for her. He'd obviously granted himself the 'best one on the market', opting for also -coincidentally- the most expensive one. It had taken some convincing, perhaps some bribing too, to get the hospital to sign off on him entering her room with a powered drill. He was quite proud of himself for mounting it all by himself, her curious eyes following his every move as he clumsily tried to get it to just stay up. 'Bed rest' was her lazy excuse as she shrugged her shoulders provocatively. A chuckle had left his lips, his back still turned towards her as his white tee started sporting a few sweaty patches on the back.

"You don't have to do all of this for me, Clay." Her voice was barely above a whisper, his heart broke at the sound of it, like it had always done. She pulled at the strings of his heart almost menacingly with every word that left her mouth in that tone, especially.

A harsh creak screeched through the room, almost breaking his previously quite sturdy chair in the process, as he harshly turned in his seat. John the Cheapskate was long forgotten by the time her sad eyes found his, a soft glimmer to her pupils as she kept her eyes on his face, slowly tracing over his features. His voice sounded desperate as he reached for her hand, feeling limp in his. "Then let me do it all for us, instead."

A pathetic sob escaped her throat as she smiled through the immeasurable guilt that threatened to eat her from inside out. She felt it picking away at pieces of her, pieces she had only just learned how to pick up again, how to glue back to the rest. "Don't give up on this yet, please. I can't lose you again.." His lips stayed parted, his eyes not even daring to take a second to blink. Never had he felt the absolute terror he had felt in that second, her fingers felt so fucking cold to his touch. He could feel them slip from his in his mind, he could practically feel the emptiness overtake his being, once again urging him back to the pit he had finally learned how to climb out of.

A squeeze to his hand was all he needed from her, his lips curling at the ends at the tiny, tiny gesture. It was enough, more than enough. His mind raced back to the night he had first felt her digits cling to his again, a microscopic twitch in her fingers, barely detectable. He was sure he wouldn't have been able to notice it was he in any other situation, but God, it had been his sole focus for weeks. The absolutely elated scream that roughened up his throat for days following the incident, forced doctors and nurses originating from all over the floor to pile into her room.

"I'm glad she's well, Dream. Just.. Just take care of yourself, too, okay?" George mumbled into his microphone, he was absolutely ecstatic to hear from his friend again, days of radio silence prefacing his sudden reappearance. A groan sounded from his throat, annoyed at his friend bringing this up again. This wasn't about him, it never had been about him.

"I'm gonna need to hear you say it, don't just grunt angrily." If he wasn't so goddamn worried about his friend, he was sure to have shouted his ears off by now. However, George knew better, he knew screaming and fighting would get him nowhere with Clay, stubborn fucking Clay.

Clay rolled his eyes as his back landed against the papery wall, "I promise, okay? That good enough for you?"

"I guess." The brunette responded with disappointment laced in his words, just hoping for once to finally get him to admit something. "You-"

"Hey -uh- I have to go, man, she's back from, uh, therapy." God, when did he start feeling embarrassed about caring about his girl, about his fucking soulmate? It felt so wrong, and to be quite frank; he hated George for making him feel this way. His thumb found the end-call button hastily, almost confrontationally quick. She waved at him as she strolled through the hallway towards him, the wheels of the stroller-like device that never left her side, being connected to her veins and all that, awkwardly ticking against the tiles it passed over. He mumbled, meaning more for her to read his lips than to hear his actual tone, "Hi."

"Please, Clay, please don't cry. I don't-" Her voice was rough from the sobs that had passed through her throat the last several hours. "I don't think I can take it."

His eyes were filled to the brim with melancholic tears, threatening him to spill over, to lay all his cards on the table for him. "I can't help it, I'm sorry." She wouldn't be moving back in with him. She 'couldn't live someone else's life', she couldn't be trapped in the past if she didn't feel any sort of connection to it anymore. She wanted to move on, be friends, but move on. "I can't help it, I just keep thinking.."

A deep breath, his eyes forced closed, almost painfully so.

"I keep thinking about how you're going to end up with someone, and that someone isn't going to be me." Audible heartbreak echoed through her room, her empty room. She'd taken down the pictures, the drawings, the memories, and even the damned Christmas lights. Her throat closed up at the sight in front of her, he was in shambles. He was so absolutely fucking devastated to be losing her again, he was supposed to be her keeper, the one to make sure to never let anything happen to her ever again. They'd taken that from him, in fact, they had taken everything from him.

They sat on the edge of the hospital bed she would finally be leaving that week, hands clamped together tightly. For him it meant everything; reassurance that it would be okay. For her, it sadly meant nothing but bare comfort to the man -whom her mind still refused to acknowledge- sitting next to her. It stayed silent for a while, for minutes even. Only his heaving sobs and her shuddered breaths taking up the room.

"Why couldn't you just be mad at me, scream that I'm a worthless bitch or something." She joked sadly, a somber snort leaving his lips quietly.

No hesitation. "Because you're the love of my life."

Hesitation. "I'm sorry I was your soulmate, Clay, I am." Big strong breaths, a slight shake in her shoulders as if to muster up courage. "But I don't think you're mine, not anymore."

A wail escaped his lips before he could catch it, his salty tears staining his cheeks and neck, leaving wet streaks along the hem of his shirt.

"I don't know who I am without you." He put all of him in the open, completely bare and vulnerable in her presence. He had nothing to lose, not anymore, anyway.

She smiled at him sadly as his hand received another one of her infamous squeezes. "That's the problem, I think, me neither."

He couldn't take it any longer, almost panicked gasps screaming at him to just, please, let it all be a dream.

His sobs gradually fainted to heavy breaths, the room still spinning around him, but now, more of a carrousel rather than whirlwind. Each of the little carriages bringing new memories to the front of his mind, all the little things he had grown to love so damn much about her.

Prom night.

Wooden playground.

New cat.

Roadtrip.

First kiss.

Disneyland.

Holding hands.

Halloween.

First fight.

Moving in.

Second kiss.

Nevada.

Parents' divorce.

Roller skating.

Graduation.

Accident. All of it made him dizzy, she made him dizzy. His voice was so meek, so vulnerable, so close to another rough sob leaving his throat, however a faint smile pulled at his lips. His eyes closed in fear of what his mouth was about to ask her, in fear of it being the last thing he would say to her, in fear of closing a chapter he never wished would have reached its end. Shuddered breath, soft smile, light playfulness toying at his tone,

"We had one hell of a love story, didn't we?"

[prismatica-the-strange]

Au Zombie apocalypse (but more like the movie Fido

While I did watch the film (and absolutely loved it!), I didn't really know how to write it as an AU, so I went more for a 7 Days to die meets Tyler Posey's Alone.

Word count: 2014

Warnings: Blood, violence, swearing

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

"Jackpot!"

"What'cha got?" Cam comes up behind her to look into the cabinet.

"Enough to last us a while," Bunny grins, shrugging off her backpack and shoving cans from the shelves into it.

"Dread found a buttload of nonperishables," he says into the radio on his shoulder, "What about you gu-"

He's cut off by the sound of gunshots from two floors up where Daniel and Vala are going through apartments.

Bunny freezes, hand gripping the worn, bloodstained handle of the fire ax on the counter next to her. Everything goes quiet.

They wait for what feels like forever with bated breath until Daniel's heavy breathing crackles through the radio, "We had a group of infected, but we took care of it... Keep an eye out, those shots could have attracted more."

Before she can even let out a breath of relief Bunny sees a figure shambling up behind Mitchell.

"Behind you!"

She manages to pull out her sidearm as the zombie tackles him. She fires a few times and prays she was quick enough to kill it before it bit him.

The infected goes limp and she nudges it with her toe before pushing it off him.

There's a lot of blood, she wipes away as much as she can but she doesn't see a bite mark, just the gash on his forehead.

"Mitchell's unconscious," she says into her radio, "Zombie took him down and he hit his head, I don't see a bite."

"Keep your distance, just in case," Daniel answers, "We'll be right down Bunny."

"Hey! It's just me!" Daniel says when she points the Glock at him.

"Announce yourself next time dumbass!" She snaps, pointing her gun to the floor. "There's infected around, I could've killed you!"

He glances up at her when he kneels next to Mitchell, checking him for bites or deep scratches. "We'll bring him back, but he'll need to be watched closely, are you okay?"

"'M fine, let's get him back to base." She assures him with a small smile.

"Guys!" Vala skids to a stop in the doorway, "We've got an entire pack of runners headed right for us, if we're leaving, we need to go now."

"Help me with him," he looks to Bunny and she slings one of Cam's arms over her shoulders, helping Daniel get him to his feet.

Vala takes point as they drag him down the, now darkening, hallways of the apartment building. The group makes it to the truck without incident, Vala climbing into the bed with Cam and the supplies they managed to raid.

The compound was a small, red-brick school that they had reinforced. Two floors, lots of rooms, a flat roof that was good for patrolling on, and a chain-link fence surrounding it that they had wrapped and topped with barbed and razor wire.

"This is Raid Team One to Base, come in Base," Bunny says into the radio hooked to the dash. "I Repeat, This is Raid Team One, we're coming in hot, ETA 8 minutes. Base, do you copy?"

She gets back nothing but static and she looks to Daniel in the driver's seat.

"We have a man down and sprinters on our ass. ETA 5 minutes. Base, please respond." Nothing, "Damnit Walter! You'd better have that gate open when we get there or I swear to fuck, I'm gonna kick your ass!"

... "This is Base to Raid Team One, what is your current Eta?"

"Fuckin' finally!" She holds the mic up to her face again, "One minute Walter! Get that gate open NOW!... And tell the doc to be ready for a bleeder."

"What in the hell happened?" Sam asks as they unload Cam from the back.

"One of those new silents," Bunny grimaces, wiping her sleeve at the speckles of dried blood from her cheek, "Fucker got the drop on us."

"Hey!" She stops the group just inside the gate, the sound of gunfire echoing from O'Neill and Teal'c in the watchtowers as sprinters hurl themselves at the fence, "You know the rules, I can't let you in until you get a bite check."

"Damnit, Sam! Mitchell's dying!" Daniel snaps, "We don't have time for this!"

"I won't be the reason we have another outbreak!" She argues, pulling her pistol from its holster.

"Both of you calm down!" Fraiser interjects, rushing in with a gurney, "Sam, put your gun away, and Daniel..."

She looks at him pointedly, "Roll up your sleeves. Rules are rules, no exceptions, not even you."

He does as she says as she scours Cam for bites, Bunny and Vala also rolling their sleeves and pant legs up for Sam to inspect.

After getting checked out, Bunny brings the raided food to the kitchens, Daniel trailing closely behind her.

Once they make it to their quarters, an old English classroom, he pulls her into his arms.

"You're sure you're okay?" He asks, looking her over again.

"I'm fine," she assures him, "A little irked that we had to leave before we finished looting, but physically, I'm okay."

"Good," he sighs, pressing his lips to her forehead.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

"We should take the mountain." She says, fingers drumming against the table in the war room.

"Not this again," O'Neill sighed, running his hand over his face, "That place is swarming with infected."

"But it's also loaded to the teeth with Ammo, MREs, and medical supplies." She argues, "Enough to last at least a few years. Jack, we've nearly picked the rest of the town clean, there's not much else to raid, what do we do then?"

"And or med supply is running dangerously low," Fraiser cuts in, "The stock in that mountain could save a lot of lives."

O'Neill huffs and slouches against the wall next to the window, looking out in the direction of Cheyenne Mountain.

"We need to take inventory of our current ammo supply before we make any hard decisions," He says, "If you can get the floor plans from the town office and draw me up a workable plan for this, we might- and I stress the word might- be able to get this thing off the ground."

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

"So you finally got O'Neill to agree?" Cam groans from the bed in the makeshift infirmary, "How the Hell did you manage that?"

"Persistence."

"You annoyed him into it," he clarifies.

"Something like that," Bunny laughs, "Daniel and V are prepping the truck to raid the town office to hopefully get the floor plan."

"Document snatching, I don't envy you there."

"Yeah... So how are you doing? Feeling hungry for human flesh?" She jokes, "Craving my sweet sweet bone marrow?"

"Nah, the doc checked me out, I am 'infection free' as the kids call it."

"That's good, I hope to see you up on your feet soon, I don't like being down a man." She pats his arm and makes her way to where the rest of the team is getting ready to head out.

"How's he doin'?" Daniel asks, lifting the weapons duffle into the bed of the truck.

"Cam is Cam," she shrugs, "Bit of a concussion but otherwise still the same, we lucked out."

"Yes, those new Silents are beginning to be quite the problem," Vala says, climbing into the back of the truck.

"We'll figure it out," Daniel nods, "We learned to manage the sprinters, we'll get a read on these ones too."

"You guys ready to go?" O'Neill asks, walking up with Teal'c, his hands in his pockets.

"Just about," Daniel says, "What's goin' on?"

"With this new variant out there, I know I'd feel a lot better if you took Teal'c with you." He tells them, "So you're taking Teal'c with you."

"Hop in," Bunny motions to the truck, and Teal'c nods before stepping into the bed and shutting the tailgate.

The town office is mostly empty, with only a few zombies stumbling around, easily incapacitated with melee weapons.

"Where do you think they'd keep the floorplans?" Bunny asks, scraping the blood off her ax on the side of a desk.

"Archives are in the basement if they had them at all," Daniel explains, "Uh... Teal'c and Vala, you guys take guard up here, Bunny and I 'll check out downstairs."

Their lights shine around the dusty folder-covered shelves as they try not to kick up any papers that litter the ground as they go.

"It's too fucking quiet," Bunny hisses, eyes darting over to Daniel, her knuckles white as she grips her flashlight, "Daniel."

He turns to look at her, but her eyes and light are trained on a spot on the floor. He follows her line of sight to a bloody bootprint on the cement floor, "That's not ours."

"It's still wet," she grimaces and he shines his light around their immediate surroundings.

"They're still here," his eyebrows knit together, "We should go."

"We need those plans."

"We don't even know if the plans are here," Daniel argues, "Even if they are, is it really worth risking our lives to a band of Rovers?"

"We risk our lives every time we leave the compound," she frowns, stepping past him to continue her search.

"Is someone there?" She calls out and Daniel rolls his eyes, grabbing his radio.

"Teal'c? This is Daniel, we think we could have a Rover situation here, keep your eyes peeled."

"Understood."

The sound of shuffling papers alerts them to another presence a few shelves over. Daniel pulls his gun, pointing it in the direction of the sound, pulling Bunny behind him without a second thought.

"Come out," Daniel orders, "Calmly with your hands behind your head. We're armed."

A small figure slowly shuffles into the light, hands clutched tightly around a raggedy-looking stuffed moose.

"Jesus Daniel, it's a kid," She tries to move past him, but he stops her.

"Are you alone?" He asks, "Is there anyone else here with you?"

Their eyes start to glisten with tears and they start sniffling.

"M-my papa he-" They hiccup, "He told me to hide. B-but he hasn't come back!"

"Honey, how long ago was that?" Bunny asks them.

"F-four days ago."

"Oh geez," Daniel slowly lowers his gun and looks to his wife who carefully approaches the child.

"Did your dad tell you anything else before he left?" She asks softly, unscrewing the cover of her water bottle and handing it to them.

"S-something 'bout getting bit," they pout, taking a sip.

She turns to Daniel.

"He can't be more than five," she whispers, "Daniel we can't just leave him here."

"I know."

"What's your name, sweetheart?" She asks as Daniel radios the new information to Teal'c and Vala.

"H-Henry."

"It's nice to meet you, Henry," she smiles warmly, "You're gonna come with us, ok? We've got food, water, and a nice safe place to stay."

"But... but my Papa!"

"Honey, I'm sorry but I don't think your papa's coming back," she tells him, "Now you need to come with us to where it's safe."

"Ok."

"I need to make sure you weren't bit too, can you roll up your sleeves for me?"

He nods and does as she says.

Once she's sure he hasn't been infected she picks him up and he clings to her.

"We just need to find something before we go."

"I think I've got it," Daniel calls from the other side of the basement, after a good 40 minutes of searching through musty old files.

He meets Bunny near the stair and unfolds one of the blue documents. Shining his light through it he smiles when they see the layout of one of the complex's floors.

"Hell yeah!" She grabs his arm, and grins, "Let's get these back to base."

"It's okay," she reassures the young boy when he whimpers, holding her tighter when she goes to set him in the front seat of the truck, "I'll be sitting right next to you."

"Base this is Raid Team one," she says into the dashboard radio, "The mission was a success. We found a new survivor and we're headed back. ETA 15 minutes."

○●○●○●○

There will be a part 2 (or even more) because I really love this AU and want to write more for it

Taglist: @mysg1spacemonkey @sgcprometheus @i-am-morrigans-apprentice @malcolm-reeds-pineapple @witching-things @reeseykins @abnormalvampire64 @girl-obsessed-with-things @gatez @myro-tse @just-a-si-fi-nerd

[bastsoldtrollblog]

Kairos trudged through the snow, head bowed against the howling wind, cursing themselves for forgetting how bitter the weather was out here. Of course, they used to love these raging blizzards...When they were out of the wind, in the safety of their castle.

At least their new ‘lusus’ seemed to know the way. She trudged on, pressed almost to the ground, and Kairos had to keep close watch on her tail to make sure they didn’t lose sight of her.

Getting the time off work for this excursion was difficult, but in order to delve again into the art of necromancy, they needed their old research. If it were even still intact; Those rebels might have destroyed everything.

Still, even if it were all gone they had their reasons for paying their old hive a visit. The treasury, for starters. They could live a bit more luxuriously- Not that they had much of an eye for it, anymore- With the help of the copious amount of relics and gold artifacts from there. At the very least they wouldn’t have to worry about rent.

The rest was just nostalgia. Seeing if their original lusus was still around, so on and so forth.

They had all but stumbled through the castle gates by the time they realized they’d even reached their home. The blizzard had created full white-out conditions, and they could scarcely see a few feet in front of them.

They heard their lusus call from somewhere ahead, and trudged through the large courtyard to the safety of the entrance hall.

Immediately, they realized the castle had not been left derelict. Torches were lit inside, and they didn’t immediately see any signs of disrepair. They caught sight of their lusus slipping away down one of the halls and, judging by the fact that she wasn’t calling after them or trying to drag them along, they assumed she did not want them to follow.

They drew a dagger in favor of their sword- Too unwieldy if they came upon a foe suddenly- And proceeded with caution.

They made a beeline for their main study first. This was no longer a casual jaunt down memory lane; This was practically home invasion.

They immediately saw that the study had been rearranged and many books were missing off the shelves. They hastily began searching, though they were unsure exactly of what they were looking for. They’d written far too many research notes to take everything, so they needed things pertaining specifically to necromancy. At least they still recalled their organization system, not that it wasn’t in complete disarray.

They weren’t finding any of their research notes at all, related to necromancy or not. They found plenty of books on magic, their personal journals, but none of their notes.

“Dad?”

A voice called down the hall outside the study. Kairos grit their teeth, mentally cursing and backing away. They pressed their back against the wall behind the open doors, waiting. Footsteps padded along the thick carpet down the hall. Kairos heard him stop in front of the open study doors. His breathing sounded shallow, tense. They could sense his trepidation. Their grip tightened on their dagger as they estimated exactly where he was, what path he would take into the study- How easily they could land a surprise attack and gain the upper hand.

The troll took a few cautious steps in, and then moved further ahead, heading towards the desk apparently without looking behind the doors.

Kairos lunged, grabbing one arm, twisting it behind his back, and pressing their dagger to the troll’s throat. Kairos had seen a hint of fuchsia fin, which meant they couldn’t easily overpower him.

“Be still, or I’ll slit your throat.” They hissed, when the troll attempted to struggle. He froze, taking a few moments to gauge the situation, and then made a demand.

“What do you want??”

“My research. Where is it.”

“What?”

“I wrote many notes on various schools of magic, that were kept in this study. Where are they.”

The troll hesitated, and Kairos pressed the dagger closer to his throat. They could sense this troll’s magic; He had to know what they were talking about.

“I-Is your name- Kairos?”

“So you’ve read them. Where are they.”

“H-Hey- Listen! I’m your descendant! Ramira Mikari!”

“I have no descendants.” Kairos hissed, but glanced up to the troll’s horns. Sure enough, they matched their own, minus the icicles. That didn’t mean Kairos was about to let him go.

“Just look at my horns! We share a name!”

“A sibling, perhaps, but not a descendant. My research, Ramira.” Kairos pressed the blade hard enough to draw blood.

“It’s in my room!”

“The master bedroom?”

“The one next to it...”

Kairos paused. They couldn’t just bind his arms and leave him; He could easily get free with a spell. They relaxed, letting him go, and Ramira darted forward out of their grasp, rubbing his throat.

“Christ,” hissed Ramira. “I thought you’d be kind of a dick, but...”

“Ah, for once I am not a disappointment.”

Kairos stepped back out of the study, turning and stalking down the hall- Only to come face-to-face with a snow leopard. A glance at the eyes confirmed it was neither their current lusus nor their original one, but related all the same.

The leopard meowed at them and sat down. They hesitantly reached out, and then gave the leopard a pat on the head when it seemed to consent.

“Did you have a snow leopard lusus too?” Ramira had followed them out of the study.

“Yes. Is he around?”

“Uh...This is the only snow leopard I’ve seen. I found the body of one in, uh, I think the master bedroom.”

Kairos furrowed their brow, and continued onwards past the leopard. “What did you do with it?”

“I put it in the catacombs.”

Kairos hummed in response. Ramira followed them all the way to the master bedroom, though Kairos stopped and walked right into the room next to it that Ramira had claimed as his own.

Ah. That was definitely a heap of their research notes. Kairos immediately began digging through it; It wasn’t even remotely organized. They were surprised Ramira wasn’t more aggressive towards them, all things considered, but apparently he wasn’t too willing to attack his sibling.

“If you aren’t my ancestor, then who is?”

“Cataclysm, likely. There are books on him in the ancillary study.”

“Oh. Haven’t really looked through that one, yet. What was he like?”

“Do you think I know?”

Ramira put up his hands defensively, making a face and looking away. “Okay, okay. Sheesh.”

“I put a knife to your throat and you still see fit to bombard me with questions?” Kairos hissed.

“You didn’t kill me, so...”

“I am starting to think I should have.”

Ramira backed away a few steps. And then decided to ask another question. “What are you looking for?”

“My studies on necromancy.”

“There’s one on the desk.”

Kairos looked over towards the desk, and then resumed digging through the pile. Ramira cautiously approached, sitting down on the other side of the pile and starting to sort. “Sorry. I should’ve organized this sooner.”

Kairos hummed in response again. By the end of it they had four of their research notes on necromancy, including the one that had been on the desk, and a fifth book they had grabbed on their studies of their own magical ability. That might hold some insight on their current, uncontrollable state.

Shoving the books into their backpack, Kairos stood and began making their way towards the catacombs.

“Hey- Listen- Can we just talk? For a second?”

“About what?”

Kairos stopped, rounding on Ramira, who also stopped dead and faltered.

“Um- Well- We’re related, and all. We’re both mages. And you lived here a while. There’s gotta be...Something you can tell me.”

“There no doubt is. However, I do not care nor do I have the time to share it. Learn on your own. There is nothing I could tell you that is not already contained here.”

“Jesus christ, are you always like this?”

“Yes.” Kairos turned and continued onwards. Ramira apparently thought twice about following, but still ultimately did so. At least he followed in silence.

The already-freezing temperature dropped as they descended the stairs leading to the catacombs. The air shifted, and with it came a horrible crawling sensation. It felt as though the air itself were writhing, heavy and toxic. The stones themselves seemed to be twisting in agony.

This place was cursed, sickening, unfit for life, and still Kairos pressed on.

“Can you at least tell me what the fuck is up with this place? Why is it like this?” Ramira said, finally. At least he had the sense to keep his voice low- And even then, a shriek echoed from some distant depth in the catacombs in response. “Jesus-” Started Ramira, stumbling a few steps back. Kairos ignored it.

“Our dear ancestor trapped the souls of his most detested enemies here. Being a highly successful conqueror, his enemies were many.”

“What was that scream??”

“A banshee, perhaps. Or one of the many twisted souls here.”

Kairos reached the treasury- Kept on the same level of the catacombs to deter ordinary thieves, who could scarcely set foot below the castle without being overcome with fear. They dumped their backback on the ground and began filling what space remained with treasure.

“Seriously??”

“This is as much my inheritance as it is yours.”

“Yeah, but...Jeeze, have some dignity.”

Kairos just scoffed, and once they’d gathered a decent amount, they straightened. Ramira seemed about ready to book it, nervously glancing over his shoulder as though something might come creeping up behind him.

“Show me to the snow leopard you brought here.”

Ramira rubbed his arms anxiously, and then turned to lead Kairos into the catacombs.

He hadn’t brought the corpse far, just into the next room where there was an empty slat in the wall. Kairos scooped the frozen corpse out, glancing towards a half-frozen zombie that had noticed them and was attempting to shamble towards them.

Ramira was bristling with fear. Kairos snorted and moved to carry the leopard’s corpse out.

“Please. It couldn’t bite you even if you let it,” they said, brushing past Ramira.

“This is fucking scary! Don’t tell me you can’t feel it!”

“I can, likely moreso than you. I spent much time down here, however.”

“So you were a necromancer?”

“To some extent. I studied many things.” Though they couldn’t deny that they had a particular interest in death and the beyond.

Kairos carried the leopard’s corpse to one of their old workrooms by the study; This, it seemed, had been untouched. They cleared a table and set down the corpse. Ramira had followed them the entire way.

“Can you light these sconces?” Asked Kairos, picking up an old tool from a tray.

“Can’t you?” Ramira said, still moving to light them anyway.

“My magic is all but useless.”

Ramira looked to them, confused, but Kairos didn’t care to elaborate. Their surgical tools were ruined, unfortunately, and they had to wait around for the corpse to thaw before they could handle it.

They opted to check the eyes first. They were half rotted, but Kairos still recognized the iris’ pattern.

It was their lusus, without a doubt.

Not that they were surprised.

They stayed for two nights to handle the corpse. Ramira- Or Mira, as he preferred to be called- Came and bothered them a few times, pestered them with questions, but ultimately did his best to be helpful. Not that he couldn’t do much; It turned out he was almost as useless as Kairos when it came to magic.

By the end of their stay, Kairos had the bones and fur of their lusus in a duffel bag provided by Mira. The bones were badly cleaned, but that was fine; They at least had something to bring back to Eirene.

As Kairos stepped towards the kitchen portal that lead to a nearby town, Mira spoke up. “Are you going to come back?”

“Likely not.”

“...Can I have your number?”

“...Fine.”

Kairos stopped to enter their phone number into Mira’s phone, and paused as they handed it back. “Do not rapid-fire text or call me.”

“I’m not that much of an asshole, jeeze...”

“You’ve been doing the physical version of it for the past two nights.”

“I have not!”

Kairos didn’t care to argue. They turned to step onto the teleportation circle, before stopping again. “One more thing. My lusus; How did you find him?”

“Uh...He was curled up on the bed. Almost like he were sleeping.”

Kairos narrowed their eyes, and then stepped onto the teleportation circle, vanishing in an instant.

[thoughtfullyyoungduck]

Shadows in the dark

A/N: this was requested by anon, I hope you enjoy! Please let me know what you think! If anyone has any requests, please let me know! 

Summary: can you do a reddie x teen daughter where she thinks she sees a shadow figure but it’s just bc she watched a horror movie, n she screams so richie n eddie come n automatically assume it’s IT n go into fight mode but she reassures them she was just seeing things, but then she’s suspicious af bc of their reactions so they try to like explain the whole pennywise thing but rlly vague and like half bs so tht they don’t scare her n they acc get away w it.  

The thunderstorm pours heavily outside of Raina’s bedroom window, drenching everything in sight. It was the first night of the year that this happened, and she had forgotten just how scary it is, to be faced with this kind of . The horror movie she watched a few hours prior doesn’t help her case either, the images of dark figures stalking girls outside in their backyards flashing through her mind every time a bolt goes off.

The window is located on the left side of her bed, above a cozy seating arrangement Rania uses to read and indicate that she requires alone time. Though it usually symbolizes her calm, it now appears ominously, something she should be scared off.  

She fumbles with her phone, trembling impatiently until the screen lights up, illuminating the room so she can see. She groans in frustration when she looks at the time, barely three am, falling back into the bed and burying her head in her pillow.

The storm croaks outside, loud and un-bothered in it’s intensity, making Rania wonder if anyone else is awaken by the weather phenomenon.  ‘Shut up’, she mumbles stupidly, as if it’s going to listen to her, but it reminds her of the times when her pops used to stay up with her when she was little and afraid of the storm, and that causes her to chuckle.

She’s older now, and not so easily spooked, except when she watches a scary movie. This particular movie was called hush, and even in the light of day it frightened her. The idea of not being able to hear whether or not someone was breathing down your neck, or calling out for you seemed manifested straight out of one of her nightmares.

The storm rings loud enough to drown out any other sound that might emit, but that’s only her brain talking, tricking her into being queasy of nothing. There’s not a thing that’s going to happen, and logically she knows that, so she tries to shut her eyes and will herself to sleep.

It’s not going to happen, the three am hour sign burned on the back of her eyelids. She taps her fingers against the edge of the bed restlessly, shifting and twisting in her blankets until sweat starts to build above her eyebrows and she frustratingly kicks the comforter off of her.

Glancing at the window, firmly shut and the curtains drawn over it, Rania debates if it worth opening her window to let some cool air in. The hot summer sun is unforgiving these days, so scorning hot that it feels like your skin will burn right off the flesh if you stay outside for too long.

A bit of relief of the heat would be welcome, yet she almost falters, then curses herself with how foolish she’s being. Her pops is famous, and they’re living in an expensive neighborhood with a security guard, no one can harm her. She opens the window up an inch, and before heading back to bed, Rania shuffles towards the living room to grab a glace of water.

It isn’t uncommon for her to wake up, usually around the same time too, so she learns to deal with it, eating or drinking something or trying things like yoga. Though rarely helpful, Rania does discover new things and interests, so she takes it as a win.

An explosion of lightning brightens up the room, so she leaves the lights off as she shambles towards the fridge. It’s dead quiet, everyone having gone to bed, which makes her feel like she’s alone in the house. Another thunder crack causes her head to whip up from where she was ducked down to grab the water, eyeing the room twice, but coming up empty handed.

Rania hurries to pluck a water bottle and run up the stairs back to the safety of her room, peeking over her shoulder multiple times to ensure that there’s no one watching her. When she reaches her door, she throws it open, duks into the room, and then promptly shoves it closed with a loud bang.

She winces, the noise way too loud, though thankfully neither her dad, nor her pops stir. The rain ticks away on her window, some of it slipping through the opening and spattering in her room, resulting in a wet puddle being formed.

‘Fucking great’, Rania mutters when she notices, the pool extending right before her eyes. She turns halfway to her closet on the right side of the room, a wooden terra cotta colored one that uncle Bill got for her when they moved in, searching for an item that is allowed to get wet.

Towels aren’t at her disposal right now, and she’s not jumping at the idea of leaving her room again to go get one, so she improvises, by using a cloth that will be washed in the morning.

She takes hold of an old sweater that’s non usable right now anyway, and then circles in the direction of the window. A scream tears from her lips as she does, a shadow looming by the window leering at her as he sits on the window seat.

Screeching, Rania trips over her feet and falls on the ground, the sweater dropping from her hands, then scrambles back towards the door in an effort to get away from the silhouette. Her hands cover her face, like she wants to protect herself even if there were no visible weapons or the person preparing to attack her.

With burning eyes, tears that threaten to push themselves over the edge, she squints one eyelid open at the lack of movement. The room is empty.

Rania’s heart beats a mile a minute, her breathing fast and erratic, yet she manages to laugh manically. It was only a catch of the light, induced by her own imagination, petrifying her within an inch of her life.

She inhales and holds, then exhales slowly, controlling her breathing so she calms down. Several footsteps thunder on the laminate flooring in the hallway. Not fast enough to dodge the unlatching door, she receives a blow to the head, knocking her down once again.

‘Auw’, she complains, cupping the back of head in one hand and rubbing over the bump.

‘Rania, are you okay?’ Her dads pile into the room, switching the light on, searching frantic until they see her, and scurry beside her.

‘Rania talk to us, are you hurt? What happened?’ Eddie, her dad, clutches her body, half hanging over her, and pulling her as close as possible.

Richie, her pops, is standing on her other side, holding a lamp tightly in his one hand, while the other one latches on to her shoulder.

‘Nothing dad, I thought I saw something, but it’s not real.’

Up close, she can detect the tremors originating from her dad, and the hand of her pops shakes too.

‘You need to tell us alright, even if you think we won’t believe you, we will,’ Eddie promises, Richie nodding along vigorously.

The strangeness of their responses causes an alarm bell to go off in the back of Rania’s brain. She tilts her head sideways, peering up at her dad’s with a quizzical look in her eyes.

‘Okayy..’, she draws up, her voice taking on a questionable tone. She makes an attempt to inquire why they’re acting the way they do, but Richie and Eddie engage in their own conversation now.

‘She won’t tell us, we never told anyone either.’ Eddie says, still keeping Rania close at bay.

‘Well Eds, all the adults in our town fucking sucked, especially your mom.’

‘Fuck off Richie. Do you honestly want to joke about this right now? What if it’s IT asshole? What if the clown returned?’ They’re rushing through the sentences like they are hunted on by the devil himself, complete with wild gestures and raising voices as panic and hysteria seem to control them more and more.

‘I didn’t intend for it be a joke Eddie, I mean it. She was a fucking bitch so yeah, you obviously weren’t going to tell her shit,’ Richie responds irritated.

This wasn’t the usual bickering her parents did on a day to day bases, this time both were annoyed with the other, and Richie being vexed was a rare thing.

The storm rages on outside, three crying out thanks to the wind that blows strongly, but entirely the last thing on Rania’s mind right now.

‘Dad, pops it’s fine, leave it.’

‘It’s not fine, stop saying it’s fine.’ Eddie snapped, staring at Rania with poorly concealed terror. Her dad never snaps at her, ever, furthering suspicion in Rania that something was really, really wrong.

‘Sorry, sorry’, he relented, ‘that was rude.’ It is, but Rania is more concerned than angry anyway. She’s anxious that her dad might have a panic attack, even if he hadn’t had one in years. His face is red, and his hand digs in his pockets, aiming to find his inhaler.

‘We have to call Stan’, Richie distracts, seizing both Eddie’s, and Rania’s hand.

‘Wait what? why?’ Rania asks, pulling her hand out of his grip. Uncle Stan lives in Atlanta, which is a plain ride away, he’s not easily accessible.

‘And Bill. Maybe Mike too.’

‘Guys’, Rania yells out, frustration getting the upper hand. Why won’t anyone listen to what she has to say?

‘I watched a horror movie, I just got spooked. Nothing happened. I opened the window and the curtains moved in a way that looked like there was someone sitting there. But there wasn’t.’ She pointedly fixes her gaze on both Eddie and Richie, to get her point across.

‘Is someone going to tell me what this is all about? Why would we need anyone to come here?’ The tension dibs out of Richie and Eddie, albeit slowly, and they nervously communicate in silence.

‘Hello, is anyone gonna fill me in?’ Rania repeated, as she is not used to being kept in the dark. She thought Eddie and Richie told her everything, so it comes as a shock now she reckons that there’s something hidden.

‘There was a clown.’ Eddie starts, despite the shaking of Richie’s head. ‘And every year at the carnival, he scared us half to death by mean pranks.’

Rania blinks once, then twice. ‘That’s it? That’s what terrified you guys enough to want to call your friends?’

‘I guess we’re just traumatized’, Eddie chuckled uneasy, flatting a curl on the top of her head to keep his hands busy.

‘Psst,’ Richie draws her attention, ‘your dad is spooked because we’re the clowns in high school too. He’s just afraid to admit it.’

Rania giggles, always counting on her pops to make light of a situation, making her instantly more calm.

She misses the thumb Eddie gestures at Richie, gratitude flowing through him that the topic has been avoided, mostly.

They’re both still on high alert, the trouble Pennywise cost then a long way from forgotten, but outwardly they come across as composed.  

A tree branch slaps against the window, starling all three people of the family, although they all pretend that it didn’t.

‘Is anyone up for watching a movie?’ Richie suggests, shoulder shimmying to draw the attention his way.

Rania wisps her head towards her dad, applying the puppy dog eyes her pops had taught her to convince Eddie to do something he most likely won’t approve of.

This time, he relents without any type of resistance.

‘Yeah, come on, I’ll get the hot chocolate milk.’  With a last, lingering hug, Eddie releases his hold on Rania, getting up from where he’s sitting on the floor.

Richie hugs Rania as well, smiling brightly at her with the giant smile. ‘Come on,’ he says, then ushers Rania out of the room.

The suspicion still lingers, the story her dad made up not making much sense, but Rania allows herself to follow them downstairs anyway. It’s late, and though she’s aware that no one hung around her room, she’s apprehensive all the same.

She’ll find out what all of this is about, for example by exploring and question one of her uncles or her aunts, but that can wait. Right now, all she’ll watch a movie, and slip off to sleep under the watchful eye of her parents, who outside of her knowledge, don’t dare the blink away from her once.  

[lucidpantone]

Visitations Preview Chap 5: The Finale

**Go and grab your tissue box. You’ll really need to stop being so emosh. @cph-dreaming @fehmyn @hopetofantasy @cleocc @msmesasha​. If I forgot to tag you am sorry. It’s only one memory and that's all you're getting.**

Disclaimer: Same rules apply.

Italics is the past. If not, it's August 15th at any point in the day I chose to drop you into.

“Just one?” 

“Yeah” Robbe responded, acknowledging the cashier.

“To Amsterdam?”

Robbe nodded.

“1st or 2nd class?”

“1st please.”

“That will be €54”

Robbe shoots the cashier a nondescript smile as he sticks his credit card into the card reader and enters his pin to complete the transaction. The cashier hands him over the purchase receipt and signals for the next customer to proceed. Robbe begins to walk away and clumsily walks back a couple of steps and asks “In what direction is platform 3?”. The cashier signals towards the left hand side exit of the post office. Robbe sees the platform in the distance as he exits the store and runs towards it with a couple of minutes to spare before departure. He makes it in just the nick of time and settles into a window seat, anxious to reach his final destination.

The nostalgia of his final stop always caught Robbe off guard. Every time he came back here whether on his own, or with him, everything seemed to have stayed exactly the same since the first time. This place was a strange kinda of place wrapped up in its own personal deja-vu. Housing an unknown poltergeist where earthlingly oddities roamed and mother nature dared to roll around with the solar flares of the sun between her legs. A consequence of all the zygotes that got produced here seasonally. Robbe really didn’t care though, he loved it here, he always found himself here. There was something about this place; rudimentary in its makeup at best but possessing a sense of serenity,  with a dose of mystery, even some romance, a portal to another universe. This place always felt like home. Robbe would visit old haunts, walk the dunes of time, revel in the taste of sodium in the air. He’d hit up familiar store stalls, check out the best vantage points but eventually he’d always find himself back at their old place.

It was restaurant style. Not the fancy type made out of linen.It was white with miniature clams embossed atop, 2ply, 15 inches across but folded down the middle, then folded into 4’s and then once more to emulate the size of a standard envelope. Robbe had seen them in different colors but most people in the world only saw them in that pearl white that the standard restaurant napkins were made of. He just stared into the pattern recalling the day when this senseless artifact became an urn that stored the ashes of his love story.

“This is so stupid, I mean it's basically a pipe dream. It’s never gonna happen.” Sander told Robbe as he pulled out a marker from his back pocket.

“Come on just do it for me.” Robbe begged. Sander chuckled because he knew once Robbe made a request he was going to appease it.

“Okay…. So my dream tattoo shop would look something like this.”  Sander drew out three squares lined up horizontally next to each other like carriages on a train atop the restaurant napkin.

“So the whole concept would be based on the idea that it wouldn't even look like a tattoo shop but a gallery space. Operationally it would be a place of business but functionally it would double up as a tattoo shop/community art space. You know people always associate tattoo shops as these dark and dengy out posts but when you’d walk into mine you’d be flushed with a burst of light making the whole place feel airy. Like a sense of wholeness or something.”

Robbe found Sander’s light up smile endearing as he walked through his imaginary tattoo shop schematic. Robbe rubbed the top of Sander’s hand with his thumb encouraging Sander to continue explaining his future’s prospects.

“I love the way you think baby. You're always so thoughtful and creative.”

“Like I said it's never going to happen but you never know right….life is full of surprises.” Sander was downplaying how much he wanted this future to become a reality.

“No no no. Don’t say it’s never going to happen. We’ll find a way to make it happen.”

“Oh are you going to learn how to tattoo now?” Sander gave Robbe a cheeky grin because Robbe couldn’t even draw a rectangle correctly. Well at least not yet...

“No but I’ll find a way to chip in. I could run the reception or something.” Robbe knew that wouldn’t be much help but that's the best his nineteen year old self could come up with at the time.

“Promise we’ll find a way to make it happen?” Robbe always did this to Sander. Whenever Sander lacked belief in himself Robbe would make him promise on whatever desire he was discounting.

“Only if you promise we’ll do it together?”

“Deal, I mean that’s not a hard request. You know I always keep my promises.”

Robbe and Sander both giggled because both of them knew that Robbe’s promises never faltered. Robbe was the most reliable person Sander knew. Sander couldn’t help but indulge Robbe’s interest in their never gonna happen future.

“Anyways I’m thinking the color scheme would go something like white in the gallery, black in the tattoo shop and then maybe an entry to a garden or patio area.”

Sander rambled on and on about how eventually the gallery space could host events or have fun community sessions. He could teach art to youths since he knew how much art had helped him when he was younger. He had completely mapped out the potential of a place like this and the excitement in his voice was insatiable to say the least.

Robbe loved hearing the sound of Sander’s voice in this particular amped up pitch. It was so tranquil and soothing to him.

“Excuse me, do you need this? It was stuck in between the euros on top of your bill.”

Robbe looked up from the napkin and took inventory of his surroundings. He had got lost in his own memories again. It was becoming a frequent occurrence as of late. He looked up at the waitress who was attempting to hand him over a waxy piece of textured paper. He thanked her and took hold of it.

It was the post office receipt.

Robbe had almost totally forgotten about the dread of having to text Luc to let him know he had mailed back his stuff today. Specifically his GIRL brand skateboard that he adored so much. They hadn’t spoken since their break up but as Robbe went to grab his phone to text Luc he saw a text from Kes.

“Sorry, this is awkward but Luc asked me to ask you if you mailed back his stuff yet?”

        - Kes

“I did it today. It should get to him in 3-5 days. I mailed it 1st class.”

“Umm how’s he doing? Has he said anything to you?”

        - Robbe

“Look, That's my best friend.I don’t want to get involved. All he said to me was that you weren’t ready to invest in love….”

       - Kes

Luc always had a way with words. Always knew how to make Robbe feel guiltier than he already felt. Luc was as blunt as a knife's edge so when he stabbed you he made sure it was torturous and never swift.

As the waitress laid down Robbe’s change from his paid bill he took one final glance over to the broken down booth that he and Sander used to call “their spot”. It stung seeing it empty but he still smiled at the memory of his younger self sneaking the diagram that Sander had penned atop the napkin into his brown jacket. Not knowing then that eventually he’d get to remind an older Sander that sometimes dreams do come true.

The walk back to the house on the beach was refreshing. A light zephyr surged around the pier’s promenade creating an idyllic breeze that seemed to galvanize the local pelican community into flight. The whole ambiance of this beachy hideaway gave Robbe a much needed reprieve from the conflict ensuing in his mind. A litany of doubtful thoughts with no real answers. Continued avoidance was working so far in his favor but Robbe knew that Sander’s patience would wear.

They hadn’t spoken much since the break up. Sander had stuck around for a few days after the initial night to keep Robbe company but the whole ordeal lacked morality. They'd lay in bed together watching TV while Sander just held Robbe tightly. Practically bruising Robbe’s arms. Every few hours Robbe would be stricken with a wave of guilt over what he had done to Luc and he’d need Sander to fuck it out of him. The situation was dire and the irrational had somehow become the rational. Robbe needed to get his shit together and stop his dopesick lifestyle. Sander could not become the dragon he needed to chase to stop the withdrawals. He didn’t deserve that. Robbe had done what he had done and he needed to learn to live with it.

He did eventually kick Sander out after 4 days of this delirium stating that he needed time and space and he just needed Sander to respect that for now. He also called his boss explaining the situation and begging him to forget his resignation. Robbe was lucky that the firm was understaffed and had just signed on new business because otherwise Thibaut would have never agreed to it. At least that was one crisis averted, his apartment on the other hand was in shambles. Everything was in packing boxes and everything needed to be rehoused which was a painstaking process but he did it. It took him a couple of weeks but he did eventually put the pieces of his life back together. Finally waking up one morning after a three week haze with an impulsive craving to head to the house on the beach. Robbe wasn’t sure why he needed to go there, he just knew that it was calling and thus why he now found himself wandering down the promenade on his lonesome. A sherbet sky as his backdrop.

Robbe welcomed the change of scenery of his beachy escape. A part of him loathed his apartment now it was covered in a slime of memories he could not scrub away. Though the house on the beach was nothing more than some worn down furniture he welcomed the opportunity to grab his guitar and lay out on the garden bench outside his room and just strum the night away. It was that time of the day anyways. Sander and Robbe barely spoke or texted during this reflective period but they did communicate in the best way they knew how. See these siloed lovers had their own traditions. Sander had established it but Robbe had developed it. When either one of them didn't feel like talking, usually Sander they communicate in their most comfortable non-verbal formats. For Sander this was his usual set of drawings and for Robbe it was always his guitar. So keeping in line with their usual pattern Sander would text Robbe pictures of his drawings daily and Robbe would return to sender a voice clip of whatever chorus he had strummed together for the day. So that was what he was in the middle of doing when he saw it.

Robbe looked out onto the rainbow sherbet sky; it was an apparition in the distance. He blinked to make sure it wasn't an illusion then a second time for confirmation but it wasn’t a trick of the mind. A figure began to materialize over the sand dunes in an all black attire sporting some laced up Doc Marten’s.

Robbe’s body tensed up. How could it even be possible that he was here too... but as soon as the affliction of concern took over him it quickly dematerialized as the apparition in the distance came into focus and took on corporeal form. Robbe definitely didn’t know her but he couldn't stop observing her. She had a juggernaut presence, he was in awe, curious too but more so because she felt so familiar. Her lavender pinkish locks stood out; they helped frame her face with a dose of softness which was in opposition with the rest of her appearance.

She made a b-line towards Robbe’s direction approaching him with haste. She passed the candy strip ballards and walked onto the wooden planked walkway that paved the entrance of the house on the beach. She stopped at the teal colored Kalise cooler. She opened it and evaluated whatever she found inside and walked right over to the wooden garden bench where Robbe sat legs up strumming his guitar. Robbe shifted his focus downward in an attempt to avoid her gaze.

“Are you the manager here?”

Robbe looked at her completely bewildered recalling the previous time he was asked that same question. Before he had time to think of a cheeky retort she interjected into his thoughts.

“I just wanted to pay for a beer from the cooler”

Robbe kicked his legs off the bench and sat up.

“Oh those are mine actually but feel free to grab one. Free of charge of course”

Robbe shot her a wink.

She was pretty, he thought. Robbe had to double check his senses for a moment. He had never been drawn to a woman like this before. He took a moment to evaluate his entire life choices but it definitely wasn’t that. It wasn’t that kind of connection but there was something about her. It's like his body was reacting to some strange paradox in the universe that had hashed out this otherworldly eidolon sitting in front of him.

“Ummm do I have something on my face or something?” She asked as she brought the rim of the bottle to her lips.

“No…” Robbe replied with a hint of embarrassment in his voice.

“Ok so what are you staring at?”

“Shit sorry, you just seem so familiar. Am just trying to put my finger on where I may have seen you before. Are you from around here?”

“Do I sound like I am from around here?” She slapped back with a hint of sarcasm.

Robbe felt like an idiot as soon as the sentence left his mouth. She clearly had a heavy accent and she definitely wasn’t from around here. Her dutch was terrible but conversational. Her whole vibe screamed from somewhere south.

“So whose heart did you break?”

“What?” Robbe scoffed in disbelief. The reminder of guilt sinking him back into his seat.

“Come on..a pretty boy like you strumming his guitar with this as his backdrop” She pointed out to the sherbet bleeding sky; currently highlighting a color mixture of tangerine and cadmium rouge.

“A bit cliche don’t you think?”

“How’d you know I broke someone’s heart and they didn’t break mine?”

“With a face like that. You’re definitely the culprit.” Robbe was blushing but he didn’t disagree; he just stretched out the bottom half of his jaw in a slight twitch.

“Come on I can smell the guilt coming off you? Trust me I should know, it’s my favourite scent.” The pretty girl shot him an eyebrow raise to check Robbe’s temperature. Making sure she hadn’t offended him.

“I don’t even know you….”

“That’s the best part. You can tell me everything and I’ll be honest with you”

At first this sounded ludicrous but then again Robbe hadn’t told anyone the events that had actually occurred that had caused his downward spiral. He was deeply ashamed of how he handled everything and couldn’t bear to see the judgement across Jens or Lia’s face.

“I am Robbe, perpetual dumpster fire of a person. What’s your name?”

The pixie doll apparition shot her focus downward and whispered out, “Whatever you want it to be Robbe?”

“Pick a name for me?”

Why all the mystery? Robbe thought to himself. A didactic approach, Robbe could recognize a fellow strategist when he encountered one.

“No no no, you don’t get to do that. I can’t be the only one telling my secrets.”

She scoffed.

“Fine fine. Call me C.J.”

Robbe pulled a face, “That is not your real name.”

“You said you wanted a name, you never said anything about it being my real name. Take it or leave it.”

God she really did remind him of someone.

“Ok Robbe, I kept my end of the bargain. So tell me your secrets.”

Robbe rolled his eyes at her. There was something about her that was positively unbearable but also highly comforting.

“I recently broke up with my boyfriend…..” Robbe murmured out. She waved her hand in a circular motion indicating to Robbe that she wanted more details and to keep going.

“Because I think i'm still in love with my ex….”

“You think? Or you know?” C.J. questioned.

Robbe put his guitar down on the side of the bench and buried his face in his hands as a display of his frustration.

“I gather that means you know.”

C.J. pivoted her entire body towards his and scooted over rubbing Robbe’s shoulder very lightly. A strangely intimate gesture to exchange between strangers.

“It’s okay, I mean it's not, but you know what I mean.” C.J. attempted to quell Robbe’s worries.

“Ok your gonna need another beer so you can tell me what happened.”

C.J. got up and scurried to the Kalise cooler and hurried back with a beer in hand.

Robbe took a large gulp as soon as she put it in his grip.

“I slept with my ex-boyfriend as soon as me and my new boyfriend broke up”

C.J. shocked her head back and forth as a sign of some weird understanding.

“How long after the break up?”

Robbe buried his face back into his hands. He didn’t want to look at her reaction.

“Like an hour…..”

Robbe clearly heard her shocked snort which was preceded by heavy coughing.

“Sorry, choked on my beer there for a second. An hour? How? Did you drive a ferrari to his house?” She was definitely mocking him now.

“No he was waiting on my doorstep?”

“You got him delivered? His not takeout Robbe.”

“But I gotta admit you Belgians are impressive. We don’t have those types of delivery services from where I'm from. At best you can get a lukewarm pizza to your doorstep.”

Robbe looked at C.J. who was clearly trying to ease the tension and crack a joke. Robbe felt a genuine smile come across his face. He’d been struggling to get one of those to appear as of late.

“Look, I am not gonna sugar coat it. You're a real life asshole.”

“Excuse me?” Robbe responded a bit offended.

“Yeah I mean who breaks up with their boyfriend and has their ex delivered to them within an hour? Kinda of an asshole thing to do.”

“You know what, I don’t need to explain myself to you.” Robbe’s tone had hardened.

“You don’t, but you want to, right? I know because I've been there. Am the biggest asshole I know.”

“So here we are two of the biggest assholes drinking a beer together. Cheers!”

C.J. tapped her beer onto Robbe’s.

Though his instinct was too feel offended by the words coming out of C.J.’s mouth his heart and his head felt a bit of relief finally letting it all out. No matter how ugly his truths sounded out loud.

“Have you ever done something like that yourself?” Robbe questioned C.J. hoping for a bit of camaraderie.

“Not something like that but I’ve put my girlfriend through some serious bullshit. Why do you think I'm in some foreign country driving towards home?”

C.J. pointed at herself, “Total asshole remember”.

“Look Robbe when you're young, a teenager even. You can make mistakes like that and people give you the benefit of the doubt but when you're older everything counts. It's harsh but true.If you keep messing up at our age you become a pariah, a write off, beyond repair, ready to be put out to pasture.”

“But at the same time life’s complicated. People are complicated. Your love story sounds complicated. So ask yourself this, would he really stick by you through the good times, the bad and the motherfucking worse? Because everyone swears they would but in reality that’s not really true. They have no idea how bad it can really get. How bad you can really get. So I’d ask yourself this, would he fight for you? No matter the outcome?”

Robbe just stared at her. He kept wanting to say something but he couldn't seem to construct a sentence. Then it clicked like osmosis.

“You remind me of him, you know. The way you talk. Your whole vibe.” Robbe did a wax on/wax off gestures in C.J.’s direction.

“Who knows..maybe we’re the same person. Do you believe in parallel universes?”

Robbe's head violently spun around. A tidal wave of deja-vu was submerging him. He just nodded in confirmation. Robbe was definitely a believer of parallel universes.

“Yeah I thought so. Kindred spirits and all. We tend to find each other.”

Robbe knew what she meant. It was weird but somehow he felt like they had been here before.

Robbe and C.J. just sat there in silence for a while watching the colors of tangerine and cadmium rouge disappear into midnight hues. Robbe occasionally strumming some chord changes into the air. C.J. humming out some impromptu melodies both go them going back and forth discussing guitar legends that one another should check out. Until it was time for their rendezvous to end.

“I should go. I have a long drive ahead of me tomorrow.”

Robbe frowned a little disappointed. He didn’t want her to leave.

C.J. noticed and pouted in response. Both man and woman giggled into the breezy night. Before C.J. stood up she left Robbe with a nugget of truth as she drank the dregs of what was left of her last beer. Wiping her mouth down on her long sleeve shirt as she finished her drink.

“Robbe……” She sounded somber.

“The world never wanted people like you and I to be lovers. They bullied us into becoming fighters and we’ve been trying to get back to loving ever since. Just look at our past”

“My advice, look out for the small stuff. Signs. You can build a foundation off those. If you’re willing...”

C.J. began to get up from the bench.

“You’ll be fine either way Robbe but if you do have someone worth fighting for I try to protect that from the world. Remember through the good, the bad and the mother fucking worse. No matter the outcome.”

Her words struck a chord in Robbe.

“Promise me if you find that. That you’ll jump?”

C.J.’s dark brown eyes felt like they were pinning down Robbe’s soul down. Holding him to some unknown truth but he couldn’t say no to her.

“I promise” Robbe affirmed.

C.J. smiled and quickly broke the seriousness of the entire exchange.

“Right time to go. This was great. Best one night stand of my life. I didn’t even have to put out.”

“Are you ever just normal?” Robbe teased.

“What’s so great about being normal… am an enigma Robbe.” C.J. began to walk down the wooden sandy planks when Robbe shouted out to her.

“Hey, How do I find you again?”

“You don’t Robbe. This was just a random anomaly. We were never meant to meet in the first place.”

Though normally this would seem like a brush off. Robbe somehow understood the dyadic transaction that had just occurred.

“I guess we’ll meet again in another universe?” He let out.

C.J. stopped dead in her tracks.

She twirled back around, her entire self looking back at Robbe and said.

“I’ll be waiting for you.”

[pterawaters]

Stoncy, “Do you like it?” :D

This might just become Mr. Sandman canon…

“I don’t know,” Max cried, pulling on Nancy’s hand. “All Dustin said was that something was attacking the house.”

Twisting out of Max’s grip, Nancy said, “At least let me grab a weapon.”

“Yeah, but hurry,” she said. “I’ll start the car.” As Nancy ran back into her parent’s house, Max called after her, “Don’t even think about taking time to change. Lives are on the line!”

Nancy ran up to her old bedroom, grabbing her purse (pistol and a box of bullets already inside), the shotgun from her closet shelf, the box of shells, and sneakers, muttering to herself, “It had to happen today, didn’t it? Today of all days?”

At least no one else was left at the house to prevent her from running to rescue the boys. 

Nancy closed the front door, but didn’t bother to lock it. As soon as she jumped into the car and pulled the rest of her dress in before slamming the door shut, Max took off. 

“Did Dustin give you any sort of clue what we’re dealing with?” Nancy asked as she fastened her seat belt.

“Nothing normal,” Max replied, blowing through the stop sign at the top of Maple. 

Sighing deeply, Nancy pulled the veil out of her hair, throwing it in the backseat. Then she opened the shotgun and started loading it with shells. “Do you know how to use this?”

Max shook her head, giving Nancy a wide-eyed look before shifting gears. “I’ve got that spiked bat in the trunk.”

“Oh, I wondered what had happened to it,” Nancy replied, closing the shotgun. 

She took the pistol and its holster out of her purse. Hiking up her dress, she fastened the holster around her thigh. Then she dumped her purse on the floor of Max’s car, only returning both boxes of ammunition, her lighter, and her knife to the bag. Then she put the strap over her head and her left shoulder. She liked it better over the other shoulder, but she didn’t want to get stuck in the seatbelt on her way out of the car. 

Not after what had happened last time she got stuck.

“Shit,” Max said, looking into the rear view mirror before shifting and accelerating. 

Looking back, Nancy saw flashing red and blue lights. “Wanna try to lose them?” She ducked down and pulled on her sneakers, double-knotting them.

“No, I’m gonna bring them with us to the house,” Max said, downshifting before taking the turn into Loch Nora. She shifted again and grinned at Nancy. “Dustin said to bring the cavalry.”

“Wait,” Nancy said, frowning out the windshield. “Am I the cavalry?”

“When El’s already over at the church in Roane, with no way of getting back in time, yeah,” Max told her. “You and me. We’re the cavalry.”

Nancy gave a snorting laugh. 

“What?” Max asked, taking the turn onto Steve’s street. 

“We’re riding in a fucking Mustang,” Nancy told her, patting the dashboard. “It’s a type of horse, which means, we’re definitely the cavalry.”

Max chuckled too. 

Nancy rolled down the window and pointed her shotgun ahead as they approached the Harrington house. There was a crowd of figures surrounding the house, several kicking the front door and one halfway through a window. The window guy got knocked back, falling into the bushes, and Nancy wished she could make out who that was defending the window. 

As Max screeched to a halt at the curb in front of the house, Nancy pointed her shotgun up and away from the house, letting off one round. Some of the figures turned toward them and Nancy grabbed Max before she could get out. “Stay and drive. We might need to draw them away from the house.”

As a few of the figures got closer, Nancy saw that they were disfigured and malformed, with body parts where they shouldn’t be and dead eyes. She shot at the figure closest to the Mustang, relieved when it went down.

The cop car pulled up behind them. Nancy unbuckled her seat belt and told Max, “Duck down." 

Crouching in the footwell of the passenger seat, Nancy shot another of the shambling figures, making it fall as well. 

Using the shotgun against one target at a time irked her, so she pulled out her pistol and started making head shots.

Over the loudspeaker, the cop behind them said, "Lay down your weapons!”

Nancy called back to the cop, “Are you gonna take out these things by yourself, then?”

“What thin–” the loudspeaker squealed with feedback, and then the cop car reversed away from them at a high rate of speed.

“What an asshole,” Max muttered, just before Nancy took out the next two closest monsters.

None of the others were turning away from the house, so Nancy took a second to reload her pistol, telling Max, “Get that bat. We’re going to have to make an assault.”

“Got it,” she said, throwing the car into park and cutting the engine. 

Nancy put her reloaded pistol back in its holster and got out of the car, bracing the shotgun against her shoulder and making sure Max was behind her as she started up through the lawn.

A few of the monsters noticed they were outside the car and turned away from the house. Nancy took out as many as she could before running out of shells. “Cover,” she cried, falling back behind Max as she retrieved her pistol and began firing again.

Between the two of them, they cleared a path to the front door, which opened as soon as they got onto the front steps. 

“Get in here!” Lucas cried, waving them through the door before closing it again. He and Dustin moved what looked like the Harrington’s dining room table back in front of the door, wedging it between the door and the bottom of the staircase. 

“Hey!” Jonathan called from the dining room, behind and to the right of the stairs. He had an untied bow tie around the collar of his white shirt and no shoes on his feet. There was a drop of blood under his left nostril, which he wiped away with his bright-white shirt sleeve, ruining it.

Nancy went to him, giving him a quick kiss before pressing the shotgun into his hands, followed by the box of shells. “Reload that, would you?”

“We got more in the back!” Steve called, and Nancy watched as Max ran toward him.

Giving Nancy a look, Jonathan told her, “Go. We’ve got this side fortified pretty well. He needs you.”

Nodding, Nancy kissed him once more before leaving, reloading the pistol as she walked. 

Jonathan called from behind her, “You look great, by the way!”

“Thank you!” she called back, slotting the last bullet into place as she reached Steve and Max trying to keep the sliding back door closed as four of the monsters tried to pull it open. Steve was even less dressed than Jonathan, just in a t-shirt, boxers and socks. 

“Shit,” Nancy said, not quite sure she could get enough of them with the pistol. Not without one of the monsters maybe getting Steve or Max. Calling back into the house, Nancy cried “Shotgun! Jonathan, I need the shotgun n–”

He was right there, handing her the shotgun, an axe in his other hand. 

“Thanks,” Nancy said, putting her pistol back into its holster.

From over at the door, Steve asked, “Are you wearing your wedding dress?”

“Yeah,” Nancy said with a disbelieving laugh, bracing the shotgun. “There wasn’t time to change. Do you like it?”

“We weren’t supposed to see it yet!” he cried, before nodding his head and giving her a stressed smile. “But yeah. I like it.”

“When I tell you to,” Nancy said, “get out of the way, and fast. Yes? Steve? Max?”

Only after both of them responded did Nancy start counting. “Three…two…one!”

Nancy gave it another beat as Steve and Max scrambled out of the way and the sliding door opened with such force that it shattered. Her first shotgun blast took out two of the monsters. The second took out a third. 

Max and Steve hit the fourth with matching spiked bats, Max’s blow caving in the monster’s … head, or whatever that was.

“Fall back!” Nancy cried as another pair of monsters came through the shattered door. “Get something to barricade the hallway!” She let out one shot and then another.

“I can hold them here,” Jonathan said, turning to Steve. “They’re breaking through the garage.”

“Shit,” Steve said, clapping Jonathan on the shoulder as he passed, Max right on his heels. 

Letting out another blast, Nancy asked Jonathan, “How are you doing? You were pretty drained after yesterday.”

Jonathan shook his head and waited for Nancy to shoot again before responding. “Doing alright, but I'm… There’s so many of them.”

“Just hold them back,” Nancy told him, knowing she had two shells left before she had to switch weapons again. “Any reinforcements coming?”

“El and the others are just a few minutes out,” he said with a nod, holding one hand out as he held a psychic barrier in front of them. “Think we’ll still make it to the church on time?”

Nancy laughed and turned back to put a kiss on Jonathan’s cheek as she switched back to the pistol. “Depends on how many of these monsters are left.” She kept her back pressed to his front as she picked off the next monster to round the corner. “Any idea why they’re so determined to get in here?”

“They’re after me,” Jonathan told her, like it was no big deal.

Picking off another, Nancy asked, “What do you mean, they’re after you?”

Shrugging he said, “That’s all I get from them. They’re after me. Think we could use that?”

“Dangle you out in front of them like bait?” Nancy asked, hating the idea so much it made her clench her teeth as she shot the next couple. “No thanks. How are they doing over by the garage?”

“Good, fine,” he said, struggling as he put up another hand, holding back a crowd of six or seven as Nancy had to reload. “We only need a couple more minutes.”

“We’re all out of shotgun shells, aren’t we?” Nancy asked, putting the last six bullets into her pistol.

“Yeah, I put them all in,” Jonathan told her, his arms starting to shake and both nostrils bleeding. 

Shaking her head, Nancy told him, “We need to fall back together. Barricade everyone inside one of the upstairs bedrooms or something.”

“I could try to draw them away,” Jonathan offered.

Nancy glared at him. “Like hell am I letting you die on our wedding day.” She got around behind him, putting her hand in the back of his waistband, ready to drag him to safety if need be. “How’s it looking, people? Can we retreat upstairs?”

“Better move is out the front door,” Lucas called back. “The path to the Mustang is clear!”

“Okay! Move the barricade and get ready to open the door!” Nancy ordered. Ducking around the living room wall to better address whoever was defending the garage, Nancy called, “Retreat out the front door. You hear me? Steve?”

“Front door, got it,” Steve replied. “Just tell us when.”

Grabbing Jonathan’s arm, Nancy asked, “Retreat path clear?”

“We’re ready!” Lucas told her. 

“Okay, now!” Nancy pulled on Jonathan, getting him to follow her across the house. “Now, now, now!”

They met all the others at the front door, Steve taking swings at the monster following them until Jonathan threw it out of the way.

He staggered, running out of strength, but Nancy kept him up on his feet long enough to follow the others out of the house and across the lawn. She had no idea how they were all going to fit in the Mustang, but as luck would have it, they didn’t have to find out.

Hopper’s van pulled up behind the Mustang, and when the sliding door opened El and Will stepped out, holding hands and dressed in their bridal party outfits. Mike was just behind them, and as the twins met the horde of monsters with their combined powers, Mike ran up to help Nancy with Jonathan. 

“Come here,” Joyce called from the van, helping Nancy and Mike get Jonathan into the van. Hopper’s gun blasted as he shot over the family and into the throng of monsters following them.

And then, almost like a wave was crashing over them, the monsters began to disappear. Nancy sat on the floor of the van, resting her head against Jonathan’s knee and catching her breath. Steve joined them a second later, giving Nancy a kiss before turning his attention to Jonathan. Joyce reached over and took Nancy’s hand, giving it a comforting squeeze as she smiled. 

“You look lovely, dear.”

Nancy laughed, looking down at the residual gunpowder and fine droplets of blood spotted all over her dress. “I looked amazing twenty minutes ago.”

“I don’t suppose you have a back-up dress, huh?” Steve asked, taking a look at his watch. “There’s still forty-five minutes before it’s supposed to start.”

“I have a dress,” Nancy told them. “The one I wore to the rehearsal last night.”

Watching El and Will return, Joyce said, “If you’re still up for it, we’ll make it happen. After all, we have no idea when the next attack is going to come.”

Looking up at Jonathan, and then Steve, Nancy smiled. “Yeah. Let’s do it.” Standing up, Nancy gave Steve and Jonathan kisses before telling them, “I’ll see you at the church!” She gave Mike and Joyce hugs before grabbing Max and urging her back toward the Mustang.

“Love you!” Jonathan called after her.

“Me too!" 

"We’re gonna marry you!” Steve yelled.

Blowing them a kiss, Nancy shouted, “Can’t wait!” Getting in the car, Nancy said, “Step on it Max. We’ve got a wedding to get to.”

“Hell yeah, we do,” Max said, grinning as the Mustang’s engine roared to life.

[sugar-petals]

:: Sloppy Savvy (m)

— pairing ♡ Reader x JK x MYG

warnings ⚠️ threesome, bdsm, sub!jk-centric, sub!yoongi joins, dom!reader, fwb, spit kink, facials, degradation, face-sitting, as the title says: very wet and messy 

summary: You delight in rainy-day bed pleasures with JK and Yoongi.

word count: 2.1k | one shot | domestic au

➳ NOTE: A gift for @/re-sugance. Kura you’re the kindest, your support always means a lot.  

The room is in shambles. Two ripped open suitcases. Empty take-out boxes from Manolo’s down the road. Black Gore-Tex raincoats on the bed. Still dripping off. With you standing on the carpet in the center of the room naked.

“Watch closely.”

And Jungkook kneeling at your feet. Panting.

You let saliva pool long enough at the tip of your tongue for him to tremble. Looking up from his position, sitting on his heels, Jungkook’s neck looks tense with the sustaining upward bend to it. In order not to make it strain too much, one cupping hand under his chin suffices. Perfect.

At the stroke of your fingers, you feel a little peach fuzz underneath, as slight as the one above his belly button that tends to escape his razor in the shower. Barely coarse to the touch, you fondle it, making Jungkook arch into his position even more. Obedient. And delicately servile as ever.

Seeing him gasp, and wriggle, and wait for the reward so much anticipated during two days and over seven hours in the plane — is the delight of a long week off your back through his gentle presence underneath you. Fuck. Missing him is nowhere near as hard as making up for the lost time when he’s in your hands this way.

“Y/N...”

He’s whimpering. So needy, his cock can’t take it. It throbs so hard against his abdomen, begging for the ease of stimulation that you will not allow.

At least not yet.

When you let a small thread of saliva drip downwards into his mouth, Jungkook sticks his tongue out to let your spit cool first, and then, lets it slide into his esophagus slow enough for you to still observe it disappear.  

Your voice is placid. The room damp. With a little help from your other hand, his bangs stay out of his eyes.

“Swallow, babe. Don’t be shy.”

“Ah—”

Jungkook gulps down every new portion of drops and threads you give him. The guttural noise that follows each time after his Adam’s apple pokes forward has always satisfied you, and still, never fails to stun. He’s endlessly ravishing.

The saliva that has gathered around your own jaw you swipe up with the hand once at his own chin, and slather your wet digits across his bottom lip. It’s gotten a little plump by now.

“Blow a bubble for me, sweetheart.”

Jungkook obliges. Gathering some more of his own spit, then pouting his lips to accumulate the mix. When he opens his mouth to exhale, a little pop escapes, and tiny droplets create spray all over his cheeks. He’s giggling. So it was more saliva than intended. Cute babe.

“Oh my! I’m sorry. Sorry, Y/N.”

Some of the spit also disperses on the foamy black floor mat, leaving small little dots around his thighs and between his bent legs in their remaining position: Jungkook has been kneeling steadfast like a champ.

“You’re the best slut. Don’t apologize for that.”

The praise brings Jungkook to bare his teeth in a wide grin that makes his eyes smile alike. You wish you could nibble at his ears, his crinkling nose.

But not yet.

When you tickle him inches short under his jaw, he throws his head back laughing even more. You love the sound. It’s heart-melting. His bangs part further.

“Can I gag for you?”

What a question. He can, always.

“Baby, want my fingers?”

The look in his eyes is the answer. So bad. His hotel room in Bangkok has been awfully devoid of you and his texts read just like that. It’s time to catch up tonight.

You make sure to wipe the very last of your spit from either lip and pass it down between his teeth where both your index and middle digit find a warm space to linger. So hot.

Jungkook visibly finds delight in brushing his head faithfully against your legs before resuming his position. The movement of your fingers draws ample chokes from him, many accompanied by what remains the grin that Jungkook sports with your hand in his mouth. He is diligent gagging himself onto either finger bit by bit until you decide to slide them out again and create space on the bed shoving the coats aside. The mattress got a bit wet from the raindrops covering the fabric. But who could know the way back from the terminal to the carpark would be a rapid cold shower. One that practically called for heating each other up again. You’ve marked him up enough.

And indeed the temperature in the room has long increased.

“Got a reward, boo. You’ve been good.”

The surprise on his face inspires a rush of adrenaline, one that makes you realize that you have him on your bed, finally, after last week’s busy period.

“Yes. Lay back.”

You slide on top of him. Prurient. More adrenaline. His body is luscious.

“Is it a new toy?”

“Certainly. For you and for me.”

“Oh!”

“Can you wait for one minute?”

“Sure, are you getting it now?”

“Yes,” you gently lift from the edge of the mattress. “Called us a guest, sweetheart. You know who.”

Because the texts from Bangkok didn’t just reach you by yourself. It’s a group chat, after all.

“Sit, Yoongi babe.”

The mattress sinks a little more when he does. Three people on it makes the room, despite its chaos, more hospitable. Yes, homely. How hostile can the best house be with nobody to be close to. Yoongi smiles, with his suede brogue boots already kicked off, and his trench buttoned down, in fact, half pulled off.

“You’ve been in the rain, too?” he asks.

Jungkook nods in reply, flat on his back from the pillow.

“At the airport.”

Meanwhile, you help Yoongi rid his lithe arms off the coat completely, and make note that they really—  are not that lithe. At least, anymore. He’s been hitting the gym two blocks away. You feel how sturdy his shoulders have become, removing the black tee covering him underneath the jacket.

“Wasn’t as wet as I am.”

You chuck the shirt to your raincoats. Yoongi gets comfortable on the bed.

“I’m ready.”

“Jungkook’s first.”

“Got it.”

“We’re safewording with Bangkok tonight.”

“I can tap the mattress, too?” Yoongi asks.

“Tap the mattress. Yes.”

Because how much will he be able to actually talk.

You hook two fingers in the elastic upper hem of Yoongi’s jeans. He knows you’re not going to open the button. But teasing has always made him feel more ambitious.

Turning to Jungkook, you meet a smile knowing and flustered. The reward comes.

“I’ll let Yoongi have it.”

The carnal flash in Jungkook’s eyes is quickly replaced. By a whimpering fade that doesn’t make it past his teeth, no, he keeps them tight. Yoongi has already grabbed hold of the meaty base splayed before him, picking up Jungkook’s erection that rose against a bruised abdomen just minutes ago.

“Please. Don’t hold back on me,” Yoongi brings his glance toward you, although it is hard for him. Too delicious and distracting what his hands embrace.

You love his eyes. They flicker. From the tone you know: He is shy with it.

“Not been fucked since Belgrad?”

Last winter. When you saw Yoongi disappear with a mature lady from the night club Jungkook and you spent a lackluster New Year’s Eve at. The hosting and music were nowhere near as organized as the whole attendance thought it would have been. But Yoongi had caught the eye of someone. And left early.

“Just once.”

Alright.

Yoongi’s hands nestle more with Jungkook’s strained cock. They’re quite bony, you reckon. And nervous. You figured Belgrad was a tipsy fling. She was too busy for him. Language barrier. Who knows what else.

“Already thought you’d like it rougher tonight. You wanna have a taste?”

Yoongi bites his lips in reply.

“M—hm!”

His eyes have already shifted back to eyeing Jungkook.

“Make some space in your mouth, babe.”

Pliant, half-clothed Yoongi pushes his head down giving off subtle, but constant little glucks. He’s going to be hoarse for a day, but reckless abandon got the best of his tongue.

Even now, the clench of Jungkook’s teeth remains unyielding. You tap one finger on his chest to speak.

“Kookie. I wanna hear your moans. Respect the rules for Mistress.”

“Sorry, shit,” Jungkook winces, with Yoongi incessantly gobbling up another inch. Making sure to let his tongue sway like a merry-go-round. How far his frenulum can stretch, you can’t believe. He is visceral. And Jungkook winding, so sensitive with Yoongi’s breath puffing against his skin.

“You know my punishments,” is the only thing you add, pointing at his marked belly as a reminder before withdrawing the finger from the top of Jungkook’s ribcage. There is something else your hands gravitate towards now. Yoongi’s messy hair. It got puffy in the rain. You make no efforts finding the picture-perfect spot for grip. Simply slipping five fingers into his strands is proper.

“Nnh—!”

“Listen, boys,” you maneuver Yoongi’s head down by another inch. “You both have the same problem.”

Jungkook looks mortified.

“What?”

“My house is still too silent. I wanna corrupt you boys and get a show.”

Yoongi, in a futile attempt to hum on the girth between his buck teeth, makes big enough eyes at you that Jungkook’s following whimpers become even more delightful. Because your hand in Yoongi’s hair has become more resolute.

Poor boy with a throat bulge, barely missing a heartbeat getting more inches crammed into his mouth anew. Rough you want. Rough you get.

Stuffed with tearing eyes and heavy breath. Jungkook’s legs are twitching. You are persistent bringing Yoongi’s head down to the base. He’s choking harder. Jungkook’s legs twitch more.

“Please. Pull him off, please, please, god, shit, I cum—”

Tugging Yoongi backwards makes Jungkook’s dick flop out of his cheek pulsing. A deep sigh follows. Yoongi’s hands grip tight, and you watch with intent. The milky liquid already sputters out, lands across Yoongi’s nose and forehead. Translucent. The prettiest thing in the world.

“Fuck!”

Jungkook has gone crimson in the face. He’s gotten so loud. The room is boiling at this point. Yoongi’s face is decorated with dripping semen. He doesn’t have to blow spit bubbles.

“Lick that off, Kook,” you say. “Be a clean boy.”

The pillow is reduced flat with Jungkook’s head pressing into it so heavily. His heart rate still is working overtime. With Yoongi desperate beside. And you bouncing, a grip at either side of Jungkook’s head. It leaves the mattress creaking to the rhythm.

Whatever happened in Belgrad— you wonder how Yoongi isn’t there making babies this very moment. He’s tired and emptied out Jungkook in a matter of minutes. The tongue between your legs feels delirious. Wandering without aim, poking. With every bounce, it flattens more against your vulva. Jungkook’s eyes rest suavely closed, concentrating on the moment and bringing more stimulation between your folds.

“Missed you so much.”

Taken by pleasure, you squeeze him with your inner thighs. Caress his ears, his comely forehead. The response is one, two moans. Yoongi still watches lying beside you, shaken about with every time you bring your pelvis down to bring friction to your core. Making the bed posts give off increasingly jarring noise, with you hoping the screws will take it.

The gyrating becomes messy. Your hips are tired, too. Jungkook’s languid mouth provides more suction than tongue winding now; his hair is sweaty enough to stay out of his eyes.

“Switching over,” you pant. “Toy’s turn now.”

Yoongi perks up. Demure in his expression, with an aurora of gold crossing half of his face. It’s a bit of sunshine peeking in from the window. His little blinks against the light are soft.

He accepts your hips with splaying fingers that close lightly at your waist. Jungkook normalizes his breath to your close left, already entering his afterglow. You have to be careful leveling your balance not to press Yoongi into the mattress too much.

But his arms make a surprising lift that works to let you grind across his chin more freely. He really has been bulking up.

Slick and agile. Wanton. His tongue carries months of yearning. Of not pleasing anybody.

It’s been so long since New Year’s Eve. But this moment is not meant for looking back.  

The arousal bolts deeper into you with every flick and murmur. The movement of his lips brings a final passion to your loins, a heated surge making you groan out. It’s electrifying. And not until long that you start leaking cum on his tongue. Yoongi’s fingers grip a little tighter with your every twitch as not to lose contact with your clit, licking and sucking it through your orgasm until the last waves through your body become faint.

The bed is hardly made for three, but Yoongi’s vibrating phone in the kitchen makes you huddle together almost by instinct. Too disruptive the buzzing noise in the mellow silence that has brought the room into serenity. Legs entangle, sheets crumple up. You talk soothingly at them. Pick up a tube of ointment from the nightstand to spread out on Jungkook’s belly. The balmy feeling cools the marks and smoothens his skin.

With the sun wandering its endless path, now headed towards horizon, comes a placid little half-dozing, half-humming from your left where Jungkook curls up against your side, his hair tickling your armpit. Yoongi has long zoned out after scrambling for the blanket, fully dried, at least, with your coats all scattered on the ground. You kiss his cheek and make a mental remark to send him a text about the details of your planned vacation in Berlin. Hotels, sights, schedule. He’s free in July, after all.

“We can crash at Manolo’s for dinner at eight. Bill’s on me, boys.”

The promise of a late-night visit after napping makes Jungkook hum against your skin. Manolo likes the regulars. To your right, Yoongi smiles into his pillow. He slightly lifts himself out of the cushion to grin.

“Manolo’s. Is it all you can eat?”

Thank you for reading! | masterlist link in bio.

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[zombriekid]

Exposure Therapy [Alucard/Gender Neutral Reader]

Series: Hellsing

Summary: the “long awaited” sequel to inhuman; “... this pseudo exposure therapy meant to suture the scabbed rift that severs the burgeoning bond between you and Him. Because you weren’t the only one afflicted that day...”

Warning: body horror; mentions of a developing panic attack

In the dark space behind closed eyes is where you dwell, drawing in slow, deliberate breaths through your nose until your lungs expand to max capacity, and then gradually pushing them back out through pursed lips. It’s an exercise in composure, done in the hopes of barring your heart from its incessant lofty flutters and reigning in your mind before it runs off with itself- and oh how it wants to run.

As stubborn as the skull it occupies and twice as thick, your brain is relentless in its pursuit of diving headfirst into the depths of your psyche where a veil of writhing black shadows and glistening fangs patiently wait for a mere glimpse, the smallest window of opportunity to present itself so the trauma can swallow your anxiety whole and gnaw and chew until you’re nothing but a raw, mangled mess left for an endless audience of red eyes.

But in this moment, contained within the dark walls of sir Integra’s study with said employer standing in as something of a mediator, you can’t allow your abysmal memories and hellish imaginations to roam amok. You need to do this.

So you roll your shoulders back and lift your chin with eyes sealed shut still; when next your vision clears you want Alucard to be the first thing you see. “Okay, I think I’m ready.”

“’You think?’” A familiar baritone questions, tone clipped and pronunciation short. Something in your gut tells you that He’s just as perturbed as you right now.

Which brings to mind the precise reason why you’re enduring this psychological torture- this pseudo exposure therapy meant to suture the scabbed rift that severs the burgeoning bond between you and Him. Because you weren’t the only one afflicted that day, when a squadron of very human and very panicky soldiers mistook you for a shambling corpse and in your moment of hesitation- they weren’t monsters, after all- this unit of bullet proof vests and combat rifles perceived you a threat. A barrage of deadly, metallic projectiles fired your way, poised to shred your body into grisly confetti were it not for Alucard and His impeccable timing. That was lucky for you. However, the method of which He saved your skin rained pure hell on your simple mortal understanding.

“Are you absolutely sure, Murray?” You hear sir Integra ask, it being the first she deems her intervention appropriate since opening her office door to you tonight. “You must be certain that you’re truly ready.”

Because this isn’t just for your sake, is the unspoken line and you don’t dare to outwardly acknowledge it. The air in the room is already volatile enough, there’s no need to strike a match by dragging His vulnerability further into the light when He’s allowing you this favor. After all, He doesn’t have to forgive you or your rejection.

“I understand,” you say with a quiet voice that’s quickly succeeded by a single firm nod, “and I’m ready.”

What follows next is a moment of silence, a heavy one, the tension pulled taut like an elastic band ready to sever and snap. But when the moment trickles into two, then three, and the ticking of the old grandfather clock in the corner of the study becomes too loud, it’s only now that you have clarity of the situation.

Alucard isn’t ready.

You’ve seen this side of Him before; He’s revealed Himself to you once in all of His abominable glory, and though it was under less than favorable conditions He still posed no threat to you then, and yet you... you couldn’t handle it. Couldn’t take it. And when you fully recovered from that episode, cleared to go out on missions and be a productive Hellsing employee again, you went back on your bullshit and withdrew from Him once more- entirely far too reminiscent of when you first worked together.

The intent was to allow your mental health to sort of grow metaphorical callouses, become accustomed and then desensitized to the fact that you came face to face with the physical embodiment of His monstrous and so very negative energy- that a large group of people were killed because of your incompetence. Be jaded enough so that you wouldn’t be reduced to a puddle of anxiety and panic attacks whenever He came near.

But you never conveyed any of this to Him.

An educated guess on your end, He likely interpreted your deliberate absence as you shunning Him; you can accept Him when He’s subdued and complacent and obediently following the orders of His master, but underneath the pretty facade? When His emotions overwhelm Him and all of His terrible power outgrows His vessel and literally tears Him asunder? That you can’t accept. Again, it’s all your own unconfirmed speculation, but from His perspective you rejected the real Him.

And by scorning Him you had hurt Alucard, and that’s why He’s apprehensive to reveal this part of Himself again.

And truth be told you did reject Him, as unintentional as it was, and you should’ve found a way to tell Him that you were working past this before the silence gave an answer for you. But you didn’t and now you’re dealing with the consequence.

You have one shot at this so don’t fuck it up or you’ll lose Him forever.

Hands curl into fists until the nails dig into the meat of your palms, you feel your spine straighten out and harden and both of your eyes peel open to the sight of fear.

Alucard’s fear, complete with a furrowed brow and rigid frown and red eyes scanning the scene before Him, and judging by the way His shoulders are glued to His chair you note that He’s bracing Himself.

There’s an ache in your sternum.

You look Him in the eye and tell Him that you’re ready, and if He notices the tension of the skin around your knuckles then He doesn’t say anything.

His energy shifts.

You draw a full breath into your lungs.

The air crackles.

You feel queezy.

His body splits open like a plastic bag melting from fire.

****

Breathe.

Repeat this mantra.

Inhale through your nose, one, two, three; exhale through your mouth, five, six, seven.

A whirlwind of noise entangles all around you, of screechy scurrying vermin and disembodied howling and inhuman whining; hundreds of voices topple over each other in a cacophony of horror and discord, all vying for your recognition yet never enough to make your ear drums bleed. Still you feel your own body trying to rob you of oxygen.

Look for Him, find Him. Ground yourself. You’re in no danger here.

No.

Your eyes widen with the dawning realization in your head. 

No, you’re not seeking Him out. You match the attention of a particularly large eye towards your right side and you know that He’s here. The coils of rolling impenetrable shadows, the rows upon rows of jagged teeth snapping and snarling at the air, the congregation of numerous red eyes- unblinking, ever searching- solely focused on your every move... is Him. This assembly of chaotic entropy is Alucard- no matter how much your human psyche tries to, you cannot separate the monster from the man.

Your chin quivers; and you either accept all of Him, everything of who and/or what He is, or nothing at all and you forgo the bond between you two.

Swallowing around a hard knot lodged in the middle of your throat, willing yourself to just fucking breathe despite the fact that your skin is prickling with the tell tale signs of a mounting panic attack, you gently reach out into the darkness with an open palm until your fingertips breach a smoky, far too cold plume.

To your surprise, it solidifies into cool flesh.

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a/u: i don’t think you guys realize how genuinely proud of this i am; like it’s probably arrogance on my part but i don’t think anyone’s tried to tackle something like this with alucard/reader-insert fanfic before? or at least from the angle i’m comin in at? i dunno, like i don’t think this is the absolute best thing i’ve ever written but this development just feels freakin organic and unique to me y’all and i’m so happy/proud that i did it! teamwork makes the dreamwork so if you guys liked it then please hit the heart button, leave a comment about what you personally liked- or if there’s something that doesn’t sound right to you then lemme know- and reblog this fic so other people can see it! and i’ll catch you gorgeous people on the next piece <3