#post ep fic

[ncis-nerd]

Tie

Agatha Harkness x Wanda's Daughter!Reader

+18

Warnings: Mature, suggestive, petnames, alludes to future smut, hurt/comfort, comfort, dark.

About: You are Wanda Maximoff's older daughter. Age estimated to be around 19 to 23ish but irrelevant to plot. What happens when you wake up in a new body? Where's your mom? Your dad? Your younger brothers?

Agatha All Along: Ep 6 spoilers under the cut

Agatha crawled her way out of the dirt, her hands scratching and pulling at the bits that remained on her face. Her hair all crinkly and dried. The scent of mud reeked from her as a worm wiggled it's way off of her.

Agatha was fuming with rage, but also impressed at your power. She had a suspicion you were one of Wanda's kids when you showed up at her house. The two fo you shared facial expressions so she had a hutch but you throwing her into the dirt and killing Lilia and Jen confirmed it for her.

--

You were walking on the road, on your way to the next trial. Your mind conflicted, you didn't know you had that in you. To just kill two witches, two innocent witches with the snap of a hand.

You shuddered at the thought, you didn't want to be a bad guy and kill innocent people. It was just an accident, you just wanted your family back and Agatha was getting on your nerves. Tears filled your eyes as your vision began to get blurry. You stopped your walking and sat on a abnormally large rock. There you just sat and pondered for a moment.

--

A smirk appeared on Agatha's face as she saw your jittery frame appear into her sight. The witch approached you with the lightest hand on your shoulder. Her touch ghosted your skin, you jumped up. Gasping softly as your eyes met hers.

"Agatha, I-" You stuttered. How was this possible? You thought you had gotten rid of her, was she not dead? You thought to yourself as Agatha's voice broke you from your trance.

"Can't get rid of me that easily, toots." Her voice purred, almost lulling you in. There was something different to her. Agatha was acting rather strange. Her movements were more... seductive.

No, it couldn't be. You were just reading into the situation too much.

--

Agatha brought her hand to rest on your chin. Her thumb stroked your cheek. "I know it's you, hun. Don't need to hide from me Sweetheart." Agatha cooed. She noticed your eyes widened, as you begin to fall into her trap, fall right into submission. Just as she wanted you.

a/n: like and reblog for more!

[hazbinshusk]

blitzø x f!reader.

part two to this fic.

after inviting blitzø to stay the night in your bed, the two of you (and the rest of i.m.p.) deal with the sudden change in the dynamic between the two of you.

features blitzø typical language, pure fluff, and sexual innuendo. the man really has a thing for your boobs, okay? 1.4k

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

You wake up before your alarm, eyes opening reluctantly against the red light of a hellish morning. It takes you a moment to remember the events of the night before, but the shifting of the sheets over you as another body in the bed moves brings it all flooding back.

Both you and Blitzø had moved in the night and his hand is no longer wrapped around yours. You vaguely remember falling asleep after him, your hand still enclosed in his as his breathing had slowly evened out into a soothing, steady rhythm. His back is to you now, his body curled in on itself almost protectively. You take a moment to study him, the curve of his horns and the slim line of his back as it peeks out from under the blankets. Eventually you make a move to leave the bed, switching off your alarm and intent on a steaming shower.

You stop as something tightens reflexively around your leg as soon as you try to move, and you lift the sheets with a brow raised in curiosity. Blitzø’s tail is wrapped firmly around your calf, and as you watch, the spade of his tail twitches slowly back in forth against the underside of your knee. It’s oddly soothing, and you press your lips together against the smile that threatens to bloom on your lips. With a soft exhale you let yourself fall back against the mattress, turning your head to look at him again.

“Blitzø?” you say his name softly, almost unwilling to wake him up. You weren’t sure of the last time he’d seemed so… peaceful. You reach out to touch a gentle hand to his shoulder. “B? We’ve gotta go to work.”

The imp groans, rolling onto his back. He squints up at the unfamiliar ceiling, apparently confused. “The fuck…?”

His eyes snap fully open as the night before suddenly comes back to him, and he grimaces, slowly turning his head to meet your eye.

“Christ on a stick, I really spent the fuckin’ night here, didn’t I?”

You nod, amused by the almost bashful glint in his eyes. “You did.”

“Please tell me I at least got to bury my face in those sweet—”

“No, you didn��t.” you say bluntly, rolling your eyes before he can finish. Still, you feel a tingle of warmth through you at the suggestion. “How’d you sleep?”

He shrugs a shoulder, rubbing a hand over his face and groaning. “Fuck, my head hurts.”

“That’s what happens when you drink your weight in booze two nights in a row.”

“Bitch.”

You smirk at the lack of venom in his voice. “You wanna shower first? I don’t know if I’ve got anything you could wear, but I guess you could borrow a shirt or something if you need it…”

Blitzø groans again, more dramatically than before, rolling into your side and burying his face in your neck. You freeze as you feel the warmth of him press up against you, his face almost nuzzling into the curve of your collarbone. The sensation makes that warmth reappear inside you. The softest of cat-like purrs sounds from him for a moment before he stiffens, suddenly aware of the position he’s in.

He jerks away from you, falling off the side of the bed with a loud thump and a string of curses. The move tugs your leg across the bed, and his swearing continues as he realizes he’s effectively tied himself to you in his sleep. “Fuckin’ – ASS!”

His tail detangles itself from your leg as you sit up, and you swear you can see a pinkish hue to the scarred side of his face.

“…You good?”

“Shut up.”

“Nope,” you reply childishly, smirking when he flips you off. “Now, did you want to shower?”

Blitzø tries for seductive, raising an eyebrow at you from where he still sits on the floor. “You joining me? ‘Cause I gotta say the idea of you all soaped up and gag—”

“Blitzø.” you deadpan, climbing out of bed. His eyes drop over your figure as he realizes what you had been wearing in bed with him – just an oversized tee shirt and your underwear – and you swear his pupils dilate. “Are you sober yet?”

He blinks up at you, swallowing heavily before clearing his throat. “Judgin’ by the titty-fuckin’ brass band shovin’ its collective dick up my brain’s unlubed ass right now, I’d say yeah.”

You wrinkle your nose at the metaphor but squat down in front of him, studying his face for a moment. You nod as you make a decision, reaching out to wipe a spot of dried drool away from the corner of his mouth with your thumb. “Okay.”

Ignoring the part of you that reminded you that this was a bad idea, you leaned forward and pressed your lips against his in a chaste kiss, his cheek still cupped in your hand. Blitzø freezes for a moment before kissing you back, his hand finding your knee and sliding up to curl around the bare flesh of your thigh as he leans up into it. You feel his breath catch against your mouth, his tongue touching your bottom lip for a second. The kiss is soft and it’s brief and when you pull away Blitzø still looks surprised.

Giving him a small smile you stand, fingers curling in the hem of your shirt. “I’ve gotta shower. The coffee machine should start brewing in a few minutes if you want some.”

“I… what?!”

***

Loona doesn’t say anything when she climbs up into the van beside you, trapping you between the hellhound and the imp driving, but her raised eyebrow speaks volumes.

“Nothing happened.” you tell her defensively.

“Uh-huh.” Loona replies dryly, already focused on her phone, and you can basically feel Blitzø’s smirk on the other side of you. By the time you were showered and dressed he’d managed to summon up much of his usual bravado, and the fact that he was currently wearing your favorite 666 Wrath Radio tee shirt was serving as basically a spotlight broadcasting the idea that the two of you had fucked.

You suspect that that was the whole reason he picked it.

You jump as you feel Blitzø’s hand slide over your thigh as he reaches between your knees to shift gears. He touches you again as he withdraws, claws grazing along the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. Goosebumps follow after them. You shiver and he snickers, and suddenly you’re regretting the fact that you’d chosen to wear shorts.

Loona eyes you as she notices the touch, and you roll your eyes. “Nothing happened.”

“Sure.”

***

“Is Blitzø wearing your shirt?” Moxxie asked as you entered the I.M.P. office, drawing Millie’s attention too. “Why is he wearing your shirt?”

A smile forms on Millie’s lips, her eyes shining with possibility. “Did you two…?”

“No!” you reply, dropping onto the couch with a sigh. “For Satan’s sake, no!”

Moxxie seems to be still stuck on the obvious. “But he’s wearing your shirt.”

“Aw, come on, Moxx.” Blitzø says, wrapping an arm obnoxiously around the other imp and pulling him unwillingly into his side. He ruffles Moxxie’s hair with his fist, grinning as he tries to shove him away. “You know if we’d fucked Y/N here would need the day off just to get those sexy little legs of hers workin’ again after all the shakin’ they’d been doin’!”

“Shut the fuck up, B,” you tell him as Moxxie finally manages to wrest himself Blitzø’s grasp, and the taller imp grins at you. “Or I’ll tell ‘em what actually happened last night. Okay, boss?”

“Ooh, ‘boss’? Tits, you’re gonna go and make me all tingly.”

You roll your eyes, but his smile widens from teasing to more pleased as he notices you trying not to smile yourself. “Can we just… go kill someone? Please?”

Blitzø claps his hand together, turning on his heel to face Loona. “Now you’re talking! Looney, what have we got on the books for today?”

Millie takes a seat beside you, leaning into your side to speak quietly enough that only you would hear. “What did happen last night?”

You shake your head, avoiding her eye. Blitzø catches your eye again as Loona goes through the day’s agenda in a detached tone of voice. He winks and you feel yourself flush. Millie’s eyebrows shoot up as she notices.

You clear your throat. “I… honestly, I've got no fucking idea.”

[thecitybee]

Five pizzas and a wedding ring...

Y'all this man's SWEETEST dream for the past six years has just been getting to meet her, share a meal with her, and fall in love with her in a world that never died.

Like real people do.

[thetarttfuldickhead]

He hasn’t heard much from his dad in the past year, but two goals for England and the texts start coming again.

---

He blocks his dad’s number, once, twice, another fucking time, but his father keeps getting new numbers or borrowing his mates’ phones or something and the messages keep coming.

He gives up on blocking them. What’s the fucking point?

He tries not to read the texts. He doesn’t always succeed, and he knows what they say anyway.

---

As the second game against City gets nearer the texts get longer and more frequent and nastier. Insistent. Calls too now, at all hours.

For a while, he can ignore it. Things are good. Called up for England, did well, Richmond is playing better than ever, he’s playing better than ever, there’s Roy and Keeley and the team, and Jamie’s feeling good.

But that’s the thing, isn’t it? Life can’t get too good, because when it does his dad will always come sniffing around, mean old stray looking for juiciest pieces of meat to sink his teeth into, always snapping, snapping, growling, biting, and this ain’t the sort of dog you can jut put down, is it?

Only way to keep it at bay is to never have anything it wants.

But fuck that, because Jamie’s worked fucking hard for this, his life, he’s fought for everything he has and he’s not going to let some nasty old sod ruin it for him or take it away.

So he ignores it, texts and calls and everything, and for a while he can.

---

In the end, it’s not even something in particular that gets to him. No escalation, no sudden appearance of James Tartt in the flesh, no broken beer bottles conspiciously dropped outside his door. In the end, it’s just coming back from his early morning session with Roy to another four missed calls and three drunken voice messages, and just like that, he’s done.  

He comes to practice wrapped in barbed wire, donning the old attitude like armour, and if asked he couldn’t even tell you why. Just seems easier, somehow.

---

They all see right through him, and he doesn’t know how to feel about that. Terrified. Stupid. Grateful. Known.

Cared for.

Roy still makes him run an extra ten laps after practice for being an arsehole to everyone instead of telling someone what was going on like you fucking should have, but then he squeezes his shoulder and brings him home to Keeley and makes them dinner while she helps him change his number and make sure everyone who needs to has the new one.

---

“We’ve spoken to City,” Ms. Welton – Rebecca – tells him. “They’ve agreed to ban Mr. Tartt from the premises for our upcoming game.”

The relief is a surprise; the intensity of it. He hadn’t realized until now how much the notion of his father being there had messed with him; his father, watching him, screaming, the sound of his name in that hateful mouth. Only now, when the threat is gone, does he recognize the severity of it.

---

When they news break they’re already on the way to Manchester. Colin is the first to notice and he curses softly and calls for Jamie and tells Isaac and then the whole coach knows.

The Sun: “Star Striker’s Dad Banned from City Game.”

And that’s his dad feigning a look of gentle devastation and it’s all about how Jamie’s money and fame has gone to his head, how he can’t even let his dad watch the game because he’s embarrassed of his humble beginnings, right shame, isn’t it, when people forget where they came from as soon as they make it big? Walked out on City after everything they put into him, didn’t he, and now he’s cutting ties with his family too just ‘cause they’re poor and not educated like, what sort of dickhead does that? “Kid’s turned his back on his roots, thinks he’s too good for us now.”

Manchester City declines to comment, other than to confirm that yes, at the request of AFC Richmond Mr. James Tartt will be prevented from attending the match. Nothing else they can say, really, not without revealing things that aren’t theirs to reveal.

The coach goes quiet, the way the dressing room had done at Wembley last year. Then they rally, anger and encouragements and just ignore it, man and it feels good and it makes him want to hide. He has no fucking idea what to say to them, except yeah, no, it’s some bullshit, yeah.

Ted and Beard huddle together, whispering furiously. Roy’s typing away at his phone, looking especially like he wants to murder someone. 

Sam, next to him, doesn’t say anything at all at first, just gives him a small nod. A few minutes later he offers, “My dad says to tell you good luck with the game, you’ll do great.”

And he should feel pathetic for finding comfort in that, maybe, but he doesn’t, much.

The game starts in a few hours. Long enough for everyone to have seen it by then, not long enough to put together a coherent response.

---

The boos and angry noise of the crowd is a furious buzzing in his ears and he squares his shoulders and eyes on the ball and the match is what fucking matters, everything else is just poopy, stupid fucking shit, doesn’t matter—

He plays like he means to outplay the devil himself. Plays like it would have been easy, had old Nick cared to show up.

The booing never stops, not even when Pep makes a point of coming over to him for a quick cuddle and few encouraging words after the final whistle.            

---

And they’re back in the dressing room after and the press is clamouring for a conference just a few doors down and Keeley’s driven all the way up from London and they’re all talking strategies and damage control and spinning the narrative and it’s doing his head in. All of them blabbering on and on and on and—

“Can we just tell them the fucking truth?”

That shuts them up. They all stare at him. Higgins is the first to speak. “Do you – do you want to do that?”

No, he doesn’t say. Of course I don’t wanna fucking do that. 

But the thing is, everyone that matters already knows, don’t they? So what’s the difference, really, with telling the whole fucking world?

It’s a huge fucking difference, something in him whispers.

He closes his eyes for a moment. Opens them again. All right. “Just think it’s the best thing to do, yeah?”

And there’s murmurs of agreement and Keeley’s looking at him like maybe she wants to cry and he can’t look at her looking like that so he looks away.

Roy catches his eyes. “You want me there with you?”

And yeah, he does want that and he’s too exhausted to pretend otherwise. “Yeah,” he says. “Thanks.”

---

“Are you ashamed of your father, Jamie?”

A moment, then, when it’s still not too late. He can still change his mind. He can still lie. No one has to know: he can still be the untouchable Jamie Tartt, confident and arrogant and never ever a victim.  

Fuck that.

“Yeah. I am.”

---

There’s no avoiding the snippets afterwards because they are fucking everywhere but he never watches the whole thing and so he’s not entirely clear on what he really says. Bits and pieces stay with him, though:  

“If I’d told ‘em here at City, my coaches and stuff, they’d have helped. I know they would have. But I was too fucking ashamed, yeah, so I never told anyone and I went off to do this stupid reality show instead and I did a whole bunch of stupid shit just ‘cause I was scared about people finding out about me and my dad. Never wanted anyone to know any of that shit.”

And:

“And I know, right, that there are people who’ll say I shouldn’t be in football if I can’t take a hit, like what the fuck am I gonna do when I’m tackled on the pitch and stuff. But that’s different, yeah? I fucking signed up for that. Didn’t sign up for my dad being a huge fucking dickhead, did I?”

And:

“I’m done being ashamed.”

---

There’s Roy too, near the end, and something about making it seem like aggression and violence is a normal thing and how that is part of the problem and how he’s going to do better from now on, and Jamie wants to tell him that, no, Roy has never been the problem, Jamie ain’t ever been scared of him, that’s really not it at all, but Roy does have a point too, doesn’t he, so Jamie keeps quiet.

---

“Was it all right?” he asks, afterwards, when the door’s closed to the press room and it’s just him and Roy and Keeley in the corridor.

“It was great,” Keeley tells him, stepping close to wrap her arms around him. “It was perfect.” Leaning back a little, she runs a hand over his cheek, “I’m really proud of you, Jamie.”

“Yeah, me too,” Roy says and his hug is just half a thing, one arm wrapped around Jamie’s shoulders and pulling him close, but it’s enough to relax into, to rest in.

Keeley’s looking at both of them like they hung the fucking stars.

“How about dinner?” she asks. “Don’t wanna drive all the way back tonight, think I’ll just get a hotel.”

“Yeah, I’m fucking starving,” Roy says.

And okay. He can’t be disappointed about that. Of course they’d want some time together. “Yeah, okay, yeah. Should be heading for the coach anyway. You have fun, yeah?”

The look they exchange is dismayed.

“No,” Roy says, sounding like he’s trying very hard not to sound angry. “You’re coming to dinner with us. Keeley will drive us back in the morning.”

“Unless you’d rather go back now with the rest of the team,” Keeley quickly adds, shooting Roy a pointed glare.

And oh. Okay. “No, yeah, dinner sounds good.”

---

They make him go say goodbye to the lads first, let them know you’re all right, and it’s still with him when they head out into the Manchester night, Colin’s arms around him and Sam’s quiet smile and Dani’s hands on his shoulders and Isaac’s muttered you’re gonna be okay, bruv.

He carries all of it with him, and it makes him feel light.

---

Coda:

“So, Roy,” Ted asks, leaning back into his office chair. ”Got any big plans for the break?”

“Keeley and I are trying for Marbella again. Only two weeks, she can’t be away from the firm any longer. Jamie’s joining us after he’s done with that football camp thing for disadvantaged kids.”

[ninja-knox-ur-sox-off]

Svtfoe Doodle dump pt 2!

Most of these are from that 17k disaster fic wip I mentioned in the tags of my last post

[probssomethingorother]

Several months ago I compiled this list of post-winter/Silver Lake fics, and at that time, I said I would eventually try to transfer it all over to Ao3 in a bookmark or collection of some sort.

✨TODAY IS FINALLY THE DAY ✨

Post Pages: An After Silver Lake Fic Repository

I have made a Last of Us Ao3 Collection specifically for those fill-in-the-blank fics we all crave.

It is currently an open but moderated collection, so come join and add to it with me! I have bookmarked folks' fics from the OG list into the collection, but also please feel free to go in and add your own works directly to the collection! The more the merrier!

I will also be bookmarking new 8ers that I see on ao3 into the collection too. If this collection starts to pop off, maybe (BIG MAYBE I am bad at follow through) I will do a round up at the end of each month highlighting the new additions.

When adding/bookmarking a work into the Collection it should pop up pretty quickly if you type "Post Pages" :)

HAPPY READING!

[Side note: Yes, I know the name is lowkey horrible but I tried??]

REBLOG IF YOU CAN TO SPREAD THE BRAINROT :)

[mytardisisparked]

To Show That Time Has Passed

In the hospital, immediately after the events of DeadAlive, Mulder begins to notice just how much time has passed since he was in Bellefleur.

Read on AO3

He’s stuck in a sort of limbo where he knows he’s been gone for months – he can feel it, can sense it, can see the evidence of it in the people around him – but his mind still thinks that, just yesterday, he was in the woods around Bellefleur, Oregon with Skinner.

Her hair is longer. It’s shiny and healthy, which is an offset to the dark circles under her eyes. He can see the time that has passed in the red strands, set aglow by the faint hospital lights around him. She tells him he’s been gone for over six months.

His face itches. She holds his hand in hers and tells him not to scratch it. 

There’s a memory floating just underneath the surface, attached to the scabs on his face. He doesn’t touch it. He lets the mild sedatives he’s currently on keep the memory out of reach. He’s not ready.

She’s happy to see him. She’s missed him for six months and he can see every mile of that in her eyes. He loves her even more for it, though he can feel guilt looming, hard and heavy, over his head. He suspects that it will set in once he leaves the hospital and all of its safety; once they return to reality and he has to face the time he has missed more fully.

He keeps studying her face and sees something else tucked away behind her gaze. She’s holding something back and she’s itching to let it out.

“Scully?” His voice rasps.

She holds his hand, her thumb drawing nervous little circles ever-so-gently against his skin.

“Mulder.” She’s being avoidant – she’s always been a bad liar. 

He tilts his head at her in a silent question and she crumbles, bringing his hand to her lips as a fresh set of tears line her eyes in silver. 

“You were away a long time and– and I’m trying to ease you back into everything.” She gives him a weak smile, and he pulls his hand from her grasp to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, brushing his fingertips over her cheek.

“I appreciate that, but something’s clearly eating you.”

She chokes out a watery laugh. “Not exactly.”

Confusion washes over him until, with a hesitant smile, she sits back and rests a hand on her belly.

Oh?

Oh.

Oh.

“You’re–” he chokes on the next word; the weight of the months he’s been gone and all of the guilt he knew he would eventually feel finally hit him. 

She nods and looks down at the swell of her abdomen. 

At her baby. He thinks, feeling a little dizzy. Scully finally got her baby.

He’s too tired and sedated to consider how that baby came to be, but he can see the joy in her eyes, even through the frame of tears. She’s wanted this for so long and she’s happy. 

He feels happy, too, despite everything.

He reaches up to scratch his face. She catches his hand before he can. 

“Mulder, you’ll open your wounds.” She keeps his hand in hers, warming it. 

“Sorry,” he gives her a sheepish smile. His eyes fall back to her waist.

Now that she’s bent toward him, he can’t really see the bump, but he’s hyperaware of its existence; of the baby’s existence. He wonders how she manages to think of anything else, because he sure as hell can’t.

He wonders how far along she is.

“Mulder you should get some rest.” As soon as the words leave her lips, he feels the truth of them in the weight of his eyelids. He blinks slowly and she smiles. “I’ll still be here when you wake up.”

He knows she means it, which is the only reason his mind lets him fall asleep. 

In his dreams, he sees a mobile made of stars and a tiny figure bundled up in the blanket his mother used on him and Samantha. The baby within giggles in delight as the stars above swirl and twinkle. 

If he has any other dreams that night, any nightmares , he cannot remember.

[agencyboys]

I couldn't get this little missing scene out of my head!!! I mean how do we go from Niko asking him if he knows it's okay to be gay to just straight up asking if he wants to kiss boys in the next episode?! I think perhaps they did have some discussions between the episodes, and while Edwin was still figuring himself out, Niko was able to suss him out for certain.

"Niko, I am afraid you might have misunderstood me earlier at the library today... Of course, I know that two boys can - what did you say?- Ah, "like like each other." I may have died in 1916, but my politics certainly did not stagnate there. I simply meant... while, yes, Monty and I are both boys, that is just... not where my... proclivities lie."

Niko stares at him with what can only be described as gentle confusion and asks "Okay... so you're saying you don't want to date boys?" Edwin tries not to panic because he can hear the doubt in her question.

"Precisely. Frankly, I do not think courting as a whole is in the books for me. I never truly understood the appeal, " he explains. Niko looks at him with poorly hidden sadness at this comment.

"Well, that's toootally okay. You don't have to date anybody if you don't want to! But... I really think you should still read some of my manga. They can be very informative."

[ghoulbrain]

"Not much stays clean up here, Vaultie. You'll see."

obsessed with how the ghoul views lucy's clean principles as morality of convenience, as something that is unsustainable in the world she now finds herself in, something she will lose. not only that, he's determined to be the thing she loses it to. to him, she's fresh snow: an inevitable corruption.

hell, he probably thinks he's doing her a favor. he's thinking of all the ways he's seen people lose that part of themselves. he's seen the worst humanity has to offer. he's seen 'a decided uptick' in torture. what we see him put her through is small potatoes by comparison.

she's not in her vault anymore, and if she doesn't stop acting like it, there's a whole lot worse out there than him.

[prouvaireafterdark]

Practical Ethics || Chapter Seventeen

| One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve | Thirteen | Fourteen | Fifteen | Sixteen |

In which our story comes to its close.

***

FOUR WEEKS LATER

“Is that the last of the boxes?” 

Armand watches Daniel heft a box labeled ‘KITCHEN’ onto the counter. It’s probably a waste. Having seen Daniel’s cheap kitchenware—blender aside—Armand will likely just end up throwing it all out. He must admit that Daniel looks good with sweat dripping down his temples from the effort of carrying it up so many flights of stairs in the summer heat, though.

“Yeah, that’s everything,” he says. He pulls the edge of his shirt up to wipe the sweat from his face and gives Armand an eyeful as he walks back over to the kitchen table where he’s left a box labeled ‘JOURNALISM SHIT.’

Armand comes up behind him as he opens the box and reveals a series of cameras and audio recording devices, which Daniel keeps in his arsenal as he pursues a story. He wraps his arms around Daniel’s middle and pulls him back to lean against his chest.

“Where do you think I should put all this?” Daniel asks him, taking out an odd-looking device Armand has never seen before and turning it over in his hands.

“This is your home, Daniel,” Armand tells him, nuzzling into the side of his neck where he can feel his pulse beating against the surface of his skin. He can taste salt as he presses an open-mouthed kiss there and revels in how flushed and warm he feels against his lips. “Put it wherever you like.”

Read the rest on AO3!

[akai-anna]

shinichi: *takes a deep breath* shinichi: i lo- anyone who has spent five seconds around shinichi ever: yes, you love ran, we know, you love mōri ran so much, she's the light of your life, you love her so much, you just love ran, we KNOW , you love ran you fucking love ran ok we know, we get it, YOU LOVE MŌRI RAN. WE GET IT.

[peiro-usagi-art]

I adore fics where the reader enters the plex after the virus has set in and their goal is to tentatively befriend and help moon but woof am I excited about writing the other option.

Where the reader comes before the virus, they befriend a sweet gentle moon who doesn't put any stock in the villain character he's meant to play because nobody actually fears him, he gets the odd scare now and then on accident or on purpose (especially at readers expense) but he's regarded as one of the sweetest animatronics in the plex!

And then he slowly realises he's scaring people on accident more, his memory is becoming spotty more often, he's finding odd red and brown flakes of something between his casing, he attacks someone with no regard because they hurt his friend.

And he's so scared. Sun is too but moon notices that fear went far too quickly from being for moons well being to being a fear of moon himself and he can't help but resent his counterpart.

He stops talking as much, does his duty to the bare minimum and nothing more. And then he hurts his friend. Badly. They hurt him back in turn.

The reader gets new orders, they are to help sun and to keep moon in check.

He's removed from naptime. He's purely security, he remembers so little for a while. And then he suddenly becomes lucid again.

And he WANTS to hurt and scare. He laughs at his friends fear and concern for him and that fear and concern turns to anger and frustration.

He rips himself apart to harm his twin in spite, he realises he likes listening to the little voice commanding him to do wrong.

God I really like moon.

[akq96618]

brakecircuit doodle based from a fic i found on pixiv

[adhdprincess]

WIP Wednesday ✍️

Thanks for tagging me @wordspinning! This is from a post ep. 8 fic I'm abandoning(maybe). It's set a few hours into their walk in the snow. TW: panic attack

No presh tags: @roselees @wyked-ao3 @auburnstargazer @ketchupchipsaregross @paigegonerogue @sixhours @blessedcrow @oliviassunrise @seethesunny

[flouftie]

Obligatory seasonal fluffybird angst pic, reunited-in-death edition

*runs away spider-ly*

[berenwrites]

Wolf in the Light Ch1 - Steddie - Stranger Things

Wolf in the Light

Steve has been keeping a big secret: he’s a werewolf from a long line of werewolves. Only problem is, he’s a complete failure at it. He can’t even shift, but it does make him a bit harder to kill, so he thought he’d found his perfect niche keeping the kids and his secret safe after ‘83. With their plan to end Vecna only half successful and Eddie bleeding out, he has no choice but to reveal the truth and try and convince his friends that werewolves are real. That would be enough of a task for anyone, but to his shock, his heritage has an even bigger surprise in store, and of course, there’s Max to worry about too.

Read on AO3 | Wonderful Art by the amazing @kassifieddocuments2 (check it out and leave some love)

Follow tag wolf in the light steBB24 for updates

Updates daily - 20 chapters

Check out the other fabulous @steddiebang2024 fics too.

Chapter 1 - Primal Call

Excerpt below cut:

It started as Eddie held him against the boat house wall with a bottle to his neck. Steve looked into deep brown eyes as Eddie glared at him, expression all fear and fire. He should have been afraid of being injured. Part of him was, but the other part, the wolf under his skin was just staring back.

He didn’t understand it then. He didn’t understand it at Skull Rock, or on the lake, or walking through the Upside Down, or stealing the RV. All he knew was that the animal inside him was drawing him towards Eddie. Pulling him into the orbit of the other man like the gravity of a black hole. That he could see some of the same confusion in Eddie did not help him figure it out.

Read the rest on AO3

Many thanks in advance for any likes and reblogs.