#props to this damn kid though he tossed the keys to someone else and then calmed down like Okayyy you know what.

[cupiare]

still so riled up from today cause we got this one supply teacher who apparently used to work here and acted like he knew his shit and then one of our usual problem kids started annoying him and going up to the computer and not doing work (not unusual behavior) and the teacher physically removed him from the desk (which this student really hates) and then in retaliation the kid took his lanyard w fob and keys from his neck (which we specifically say to everyone who comes into our class to keep in their pocket bcs also not unusual behavior) and then we stopped him from running off w the keys and i tried to separate him from the rest of the group to calm him down and talk to him the way i knew would work cause he’s been making great progress stopping himself from outbursts And this fuckass teacher kept interjecting and trying to get to the student so He could talk and He could discipline him until the keys got thrown to the other problem runaway kid who guess what. Made a run for it !

also damn u know ur settling into a workplace when you start getting seriously annoyed at other members of staff everyone has the gall to look down on our class as a whole for what they perceive to be poor class management and then we have other members of staff 1. letting our Well Known Escapees out through doors (sometimes without letting us know when it happens lol) 2. intervening w our students without even consulting any of us/talking over us and causing situations to escalate 3. straight up giving us shit for how we run our lessons???? 😭 Girl sit the fuck down and mind your own students

[theladyofdeath]

Scary Movies {Elorcan}

31 Days of Halloween: Day 11.

All installments co-written with @snelbz​

Based on a prompt sent in by anon: “ever since we were kids its been our tradition to binge watch horrible scary movies on halloween, go get the popcorn ready, wait this is much scarier than I remember, hold me”

Autumn/Halloween 2020 {Collection}

Elide looked at her coffee table and smiled. Pizza, popcorn, red vines, and beer. It was the same food, every year, except Coke had eventually turned into alcohol. 

A tradition.

Elide’s favorite of the entire year. 

It had started in middle school, when they decided that they were too old and cool for trick-or-treating. A scary movie, they took turns deciding. Between getting terrified and getting stomach aches from all they consumed, it created a magical evening.

Now, ten years after their first scary movie night on Halloween, Elide was hosting, and Lorcan was running late.

She looked at the clock on her apartment wall and sighed. If he didn’t show up soon, she’d call him, and yell at his ass.

Elide was on her way back from the back bedroom, having grabbed a couple of blankets from the spare room’s closet when a knock came on her door. She slowed and came to a stop.

Lorcan had a spare key, he could— and would— just let himself in. Not to mention, she’d left it unlocked for him. That realization left her all the more wary with what time of night it was.

Making her way over to her door, Elide reached up on her tiptoes to look out the peephole and she saw—

Nothing.

There was nothing and no one in the breezeway.

Cautiously, Elide opened the door and as she took a step out—

Heavy boots stomped on the concrete next to her as someone jumped out and yelled quietly.

The scream that left Elide was decidedly not quiet.

She threw the blankets up and when her heart rate had decelerated enough that she could breathe, she found Lorcan doubled over, hands on his knees, laughing his ass off.

“Not funny, asshole,” she muttered, not stopping to pick up the blankets.

“Very funny, actually,” he said, taking a deep breath as he righted himself and followed her into the apartment.

“I thought you were a…” Elide’s words trailed off as she shook her head.

She was flustered.

“A what?” Lorcan asked, still grinning as he snatched up the blankets and carried them inside. “A late trick or treater? A murderer? If I was a murderer, I wouldn’t come here on Halloween, El. Way too cliché.”

Her lips pursed together as she shut the door.

And locked it.

Lorcan kicked off his boots just inside of the door before passing into the living room and whistling at her set up.

“You’ve spoiled me,” he said, falling back into her couch. “Now I almost feel bad for scaring the shit out of you.”

“You should,” Elide pushed. “I’m almost thinking about tossing the red vines.”

Lorcan’s grin faded. “Don’t you dare.”

She couldn’t stay mad at him, not if she tried, so instead she flopped down next to him, tucking her Halloween-themed, Boo! fuzzy socks underneath her. “Alright, house rules apply. What movies did you bring?”

Once they got their own places, they added a few more nuanced rules to the list. The person who’s house the movie was at got to make the final decision, but the other got to pick the three choices.

Lorcan ticked them each off on a finger as he named them. “The new It, the original Halloween, or Teeth?”

“Not It,” Elide said, shaking her head vehemently. “And you’re an asshole for putting it in the lineup.”

An unfortunate incident at a county fair had scarred Elide for life and now she was terrified of not only clowns, but also the Tilt-A-Whirl and she couldn’t eat cotton Candy anymore. It was a long story and Lorcan knew every second of it, because he’d been there, laughing his ass off then, too.

Lorcan chuckled and said, “Fine, not It.”

“And we watched Teeth when we were like fifteen. I was convinced you weren’t ever going to look at a vagina the same.”

“My fifteen-year-old boy hormones overrode the horror very quickly,” he chuckled. “So Halloween?”

“Halloween,” she agreed. “Put it in.”

“So demanding,” he mumbled, but did as she asked, nonetheless.

He was sitting back beside her as the menu played in no time. After selecting play, he had a beer and his red vines open. 

“Don’t get too scared,” Lorcan muttered, mouth full of candy. “I want you to be able to sleep tonight. Remember, it’s just a movie.”

Elide nudged him with her foot, fluffy sock and all. “Shut up.”

He grinned, unable to control himself. “Don’t you remember our first scary movie night?”

Elide groaned. “Don’t remind me.”

“You nearly pissed yourself,” he said, reminding her, anyway.

Elide scoffed. “I screamed once.”

“And cried twice and begged me to turn it off,” he said, chuckling.

“Why am I friends with you?” She muttered, snuggling back into the blankets and pillows, propping her feet up on the couch. The bottoms of her feet pressed up against his sweatpants-covered thigh.

Lorcan didn’t say anything else, just quietly laughed to himself as he leaned over and turned the lamp off, plunging the room into near darkness.

The beginning of the movies were never scary to Elide, even if the killing started out right away. At the beginning, she could still tell herself it was just a movie. It was as the movie went on, when she found herself immersed in it, that she began to get nervous.

That nervousness continued as she laid awake in the middle of the night, alone. 

Every few minutes, she glanced over at Lorcan. At one point, his eyelids were drooping, and she had no idea how he could be relaxed during such a suspenseful film.

Elide had just cracked open her third beer when Lorcan mumbled, “Crying yet?”

“No, jackass,” she muttered, sipping from the can and clinging to her blanket. She couldn’t help but glance at her living room windows to make sure no one was standing just outside.

Elide didn’t realize just how buzzed she was until she stood to use the restroom. She took one unsteady step before Lorcan paused the movie. “Where are you going?”

“I’ve just got to run to the bathroom, you can let it play,” she replied.

“No, I can’t,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “You’ll miss something.”

“I’ve seen it,” she replied, chuckling.

“Yeah, but we haven’t seen it together. That’s a crucial point.”

She rolled her eyes and said, “Fine, I’ll be right back.”

She heard him get up and rifle through her kitchen cabinets, probably looking for something else sweet. As if the entire pack of red vines he’d already consumed wasn’t enough.

When she came back though, she paused. He was in her spot, with his feet propped up, looking like he didn’t have a care in the world as he drank a beer.

Elide cleared her throat.

“Hmm?”

“You’re in my spot,” she said, hands on her hips.

Lorcan looked over at her, one brow raised. “We have spots, now?”

“I’ve always sat in that spot literally every time you have ever come over here. Which is a lot.”

Lorcan shrugged. “I figured we could change it up a bit. I have longer legs. I should be able to stretch my legs out.”

“Your legs are practically hanging off,” Elide protested.

Lorcan blinked. “Not the point.”

With a loud, dramatic sigh, Elide was stumbling back over to the couch.

Lorcan snorted. “You’re drunk.”

“I'm not drunk.”

“How many beers have you had?”

She paused. “A few.”

Lorcan’s grin widened. “You’re drunk.” 

“Am not.”

“Had to get drunk to make it through the scary movie, huh?” he teased. 

Elide was caught between saying am not and fuck you, and her statement ended up coming out as, “Fuck not.” 

Lorcan tossed his head back against the cushions as he laughed. “Drunk Elide has arrived.” 

She sat down in his spot and kicked her feet up on his lap. She was expecting him to shove them off or make a joke about them stinking or something else classically Lorcan. So when he gently took one in his hand and began massaging it, she stopped paying attention to a single thing happening in the movie.

His hands on her were enough to cause that, and if she could just—

A scream rang out from the tv and Elide gasped, turning her attention back to the movie, as Jamie Lee Curtis tried to out run Michael Meyers.

When Elide looked back over at Lorcan, he was looking decidedly smirky.

“Fuck off,” she muttered.

“Don’t you mean fuck not?” he asked, those hands still massaging her sore ankle. 

Elide hated herself for smiling at him. Hated that she loved the way he was smiling at her. She hated his little jokes and snide remarks. Hated that his massages felt so damn good.

The movie on the screen continued, and Elide had found Lorcan’s hands on her ankle incredibly interesting as the tense music played loudly from the surround sound speakers.

Soon enough, the movie was over and Elide was wondering how an hour and a half slipped by so quickly.

“Do you want to watch another?” She asked, as he stood and stretched. “Since it’s a Saturday and everything.”

That smirk was still in place, but she could see a softness in his eyes. “Can you handle another two hours of sheer terror?”

“I wasn’t that scared,” she mumbled, crossing her arms.

Lorcan only grinned and flopped back on the couch, laying out and cracking open another beer.

She rolled her eyes before turning on Cabin In the Woods, and making her way back over to to the couch. “Where exactly am I supposed to sit now?” She asked, pointing to where his feet were in her vacated seat. His entire frame barely fit on her couch.

He wiggled his sock covered toes. “My turn for a foot massage.” He winked at her.

She scrunched her nose. “I don’t wanna touch your feet.”

He pretended to be offended. “And why is that?”

“Your feet are gross.” She chuckled as she sat on top of his shins. “They stink.”

“They do not. They’re cute as fuck and smell like roses.”

Elide giggled. “You keep thinking that. They stink, and they’re massive.”

“What does their size have to do with them?” he laughed. “Isn’t size a good thing? You know what they say about big feet.” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said, amused as she shook her head.

Lorcan didn’t say anything else, just wiggled his feet free from under her and drank his beer. When he finished, he stood and started collecting the cans.

“What are you doing?” She asked.

He shrugged. “We killed a twelve pack. I’m going to get the rest of the beer out of the fridge.”

Elide rolled her eyes, but she resituated and got comfortable on the couch. When Lorcan returned, he handed her a fresh drink and sat down in the middle of the couch. His arm was draped over the back of the couch, his hand right behind Elide’s head. He began to play with strands of hair coming out of the back of her ponytail.

Elide had to resist the urge to purr.

He handed her another full can.

She didn’t hesitate as she took it, popped it open, and downed it. She hated the taste of beer, but as the night went on, she tasted it less and less. 

Lorcan continued to play with her hair.

Elide had no idea what was going on in the movie, but she didn’t care, and wasn't scared at all as Lorcan continued to play with her hair. 

To her surprise, he let her relax, didn’t try to scare her, didn’t try to tease her, not anymore. The movie was about half way done when Elide looked over at him to find him already watching her. 

“What?” she laughed, quietly. 

“You like me playing with your hair,” he whispered, and he wore no smile. 

“Maybe,” she admitted.

“I’ve been playing with your hair for thirty minutes,” he continued. 

“I noticed,” she said, her voice small as she tried to concentrate, tried to notice if she was slurring her words or not. 

She sure as hell couldn’t tell if he was.

They’d danced around this for years, the feelings they had for each other, the other never seeming to return the feelings that they had. Everyone else constantly gave them shit for not just being together.

Elide always touted off the same response about Lorcan not looking at her that way. What she didn’t know is that he always said she deserved better than a bastard.

She tried to look back at the movie to concentrate on who was on screen, what was happening, but those lithe fingers just kept slipping through the strands.

And then her hair came loose, as he pulled the ponytail out of it and flicked it at her.

“Hey!” She cried, looking for it in the piles and piles of blankets.

Lorcan only looked at her, a self-satisfied look on his face. “What are you thinking?” 

Elide stilled. “What do you mean?”

“You were thinking something, I could see it,” he followed. “What was it?”

“Nothing,” she replied, a little too quickly. 

“Nothing?” he asked, one brow raised. “Liar.”

“Am not.”

“You just don’t want to tell me.”

“And if I don’t?” Elide asked.

He was grinning. “You’re drunk.”

“So?” she asked.

His grin faded. “What were you thinking, El?”

That we should get over ourselves and see what we could be. “That I have no idea what’s going on in this movie.” 

“Neither do I,” he admitted, his voice quiet.

His eyes were on her mouth. When she bit down on her bottom lip, his nostrils flared slightly and he wet his own lips. She breathed, “Are you staring at my lips?”

If it weren’t for the alcohol in her veins, she never would have had the nerve to ask. He nodded once.

“And what are you thinking?” She asked, quietly.

“You have nice lips,” he confessed.

Elide hesitated. “I have nice lips?”

He nodded, once, yet again. 

“Interesting,” she said, when he said no more, her voice remaining small. 

“Interesting?” he repeated.

“Interesting,” she agreed. 

They both stared at one another, the movie playing quietly in the background. It was strange, how Elide’s heart was beating uncontrollably throughout the screams and shrieks from the t.v. screen, but not from fear.

Not at all from fear. 

From exhilaration, from disbelief, from wondering if she was picking up the wrong ques. 

“You’re still looking at my lips,” she said. 

“You’re looking at mine now,” was his response.

He was right, of course. She was.

After a second, she cleared her throat and looked back to the television, but she could still feel his gaze on her from time to time.

During one of the bloodiest scenes she’d ever seen, Lorcan suddenly paused the movie. “Do you hear that?”

Elide snorted. “I’m not falling for that.”

“I’m serious,” he said, looking behind them, towards the window. “You don’t hear that?”

The tone of his voice was unsettling. She pulled her feet up onto the couch, even though she had no idea what he was hearing. She couldn’t hear anything. “This isn’t funny, Lor. Stop it.”

He quickly got up and went to the front door, making sure it was locked, before looking out the window. Elide’s heart was racing. She still hadn’t heard anything, he hadn’t-.

“Oh gods, I was right,” he said, hurrying back to the couch.

She was pretty sure she was going to have a panic attack. “What is it?”

“It’s the… the…” He swallowed harshly and looked at her. “The tickle monster.”

“Damn it Lor-.”

He was flying to her side of the couch and tickling her sides, making her squirm, making her laugh, making her scream before she could even finish her sentence. 

“Lorcan!” She cried, trying to push him away, but he was massive and when he was on a tickle mission, he was going to see it through.

“Lorcan!” She said, again, getting a good hit on his chest this time.

Lorcan’s laugh was contagious, his smile bright, and it wasn’t until Lorcan’s fingers stopped dancing along her sides that Elide realized how they were laying.

He was on top of her, his chest across her legs, his head just above her waist. His body wasn’t completely pressed up against her, but it was pressed up enough.

His fingers sat on her bare skin, her shirt having just barely ridden up during his onslaught of tickles, and her skin felt like it was on fire where he touched her. Sitting that close, she swore she could see bits of blue in the depth of his black eyes. His thumb began to rub a slow circle over her hip.

She sat up, at the same time and when he pulled her closer, she breathed his name.

They were close.

It wasn’t that she had never been close to him, but this was a different kind of close. She could feel his warm, alcohol-scented breath on her lips.

Lorcan.

Her Lorcan.

Her best friend.

The movie was still playing, Elide was certain, but she couldn’t see it, couldn’t hear it.

There was nothing in the world except for him.

“You’re drunk,” Lorcan whispered.

“So are you,” Elide agreed.

Lorcan nodded, slowly, his nose nearly brushing along hers. “Yeah.”

And then he was kissing her, slowly, gently.

She didn’t hesitate, her lips moving against his as if they were made for each other. One of her hands gripped his arm, they other still pressed against his chest and she bunched the fabric up in her hands.

A scream from the tv had them pulling apart and both breathing heavily as they looked at each other.

Elide breathed, “You know, if you were scared, all you had to do was say so.”

Lorcan looked at her for a moment before tipping his head back and laughing. 

[themadauthorshatter]

I don't know about you guys, but I think it's time we check on Charles.

If you haven't read the previous parts, you can find them here:

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4 and revision

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Recap time: the symptoms of withdrawl are beginning to kick in and leave Charles in less than favorable conditions, which Henry shows to the government in order to get the sapphire back.

Got that? My episode synopsis-ing is getting better😃. Anyway, ONWARD!!!

We begin with Charles sitting against the wall with his head in his arms and his knees to his chest. It's been a few days, withdrawal's in full blast, and he can't even pick up his head when he hears Henry walk in and kneel in front of him.

"Go away."

Henry simply holds out the pills again. "It must be hard without these, just sitting and counting the stars. Assuming you can do that," he adds with a shrug.

He reaches forward and practically picks up Charles's jaw, lifting it up so they meet eyes, which Charles doesn't do because the chain on his hat is shiny, there's a red hair on his coat, a papercut on his thumb, the scar on the bridge of his nose, and tons of small things that keep getting his attention.

"My offer still stands, Charles. All I need is you to tell me where it is, and you can have these back. Every last one."

Charles only stares off as his face contorts with sorrow and frustration, even when Henry snaps his fingers to get him to focus.

"Come on, Charles. We've been at this for a while, and I'm having a hard time seeing you like this now, so tell me. Where did you hide the sapphire?"

Tears fill Charles's eyes and his shoulders drop. "I don't know," he sobs. "I... I don't know."

Henry sighs and scowls, pocketing the pills. "Well, damn it for the both of us, then."

As he opens the door, Charles rushes at him, hard enough to knock them both to the ground and dent the cuffs.

Charles, not looking a gift horse in the mouth, books it, running down the hall and around every corner he can.

Henry, chuckling, stands up. "Alright. Let's do this, Charles."

Charles keeps running(really getting his cardio and steps in here), ducking behind and diving wherever he can to avoid being seen and found, eventually finding his way to a weapon vault.

In a rush and a panic, he bashes the cuffs off and repeatedly slams his hand against the panel to slip inside; don't worry, his ribs are better enough to be Bold Action Man again.

Inside, Charles catches his breath and tries to get his bearings, even when Sven announces over the intercom to keep an eye out for a runaway pilot.

Now knowing people are looking for him, Charles lets out a sob-groan and throws his hands over his eyes, losing it before taking a few deep breaths.

"Just breathe," he mutters to himself. "Just breathe, Charlie. You've managed before once. You can do it again." Charles takes another breath and arms himself with a handgun as someone begins to open the door.

He quickly draws and aims at Henry(are you surprised?), who raises an eyebrow and gives Charles a look of, 'bitch, really?' and leaning against the doorway, propped up on his arm.

Charles only stands his ground, taking deep breaths as he shakily speaks. "Take me home."

Henry only responds by snapping his fingers on one side and tapping his nails against the doorway, two sounds that heavily distract Charles.

It gets worse when, in between snaps and taps, Henry cracks and pops his knuckles, even clicking and clucking his tongue and tsking.

It doesn't help that Charles keeps noticing the weapons on the walls, especially the damage some have on them.

Henry snaps his fingers in front of Charles and removes his top hat, so Charles has a clear shot to his head.

Charles clenches his eyes shut and pulls the trigger, damning the consequences and the fact that he still has no idea how to get home.

Click!

Charles pales as his stomach drops with his hands and the gun, sliding to the ground as Henry kneels back in front of him.

"Do you REALLY think we'd keep our weapons loaded when we don't use them?"

Charles goes to hit Henry with the gun, as it's now a blunt weapon, but Henry grabs his wrist and pulls him close, so his back is against Henry's chest and Henry can slip an elbown around Charles's neck.

"By the way," Henry says before leaning into Charles's ear and growling, "You should've taken that shot, when you had the chance."

CUT TO EARTH(BECAUSE I'M A TROLL😈😈😈)

Rupert and Calvin are driving on that off road from Part 4 and looking for Charles's car, he's gonna need for when he gets back.

"I hope Charles is okay."

"You said that yesterday," Rupert replies sharply.

Calvin shrugs. "I'm just worried, that's all. He's been gone for a while, and Henry's got him."

"And he wants to know where we put the sapphire."

Rupert stops when they find Charles's car, but Calvin's not done.

"Where's the sapphire, anyway?"

"Shipped it off," Rupert explains as he leaves the car. "The General's having some friends of his make a replica, though, out of glass."

Calvin follows and they find a very relaxed Terrence, who's lying on Charles's car.

Calvin steps up and demands to know what Terrence is doing here.

"Nice to see you, too," Terrence sighs as he gets up. "What brings you to my neck of the woods?"

"We're bringing Charles home, and he's gonna need that," Rupert snarls.

"Not where he is, but knock yourselves out," Terrence dismisses as he tosses the keys to Calvin. "Told anyone that it needed gas. Kept it company."

Calvin eyes Terrence, but loads in and starts Charles's car.

"I'll follow you," Rupert calls as he hops back into his car; the plan is that they're going to rtyrn the car to Charles's house, grab the twins', and return to the base. Rupert's following Calvin, for safety reasons.

Calvin gives a thumbs up and they head out toward Charles's house, Terrence riding with a tense Rupert.

"So the pilot's up in the stars now? Shame."

"You left him that note," Rupert replies sharply. "Why?"

Terrence raises an eyebrow. "When people can't solve a problem, you either give them a hint or solve it for them, which won't help them at all."

Rupert's eyes go wide as he stares at Terrence. "'Help?' You call getting Charles kidnapped 'HELP?'"

"Help is like art; it can mean anything."

"That son of a bitch is forcing him into withdrawl!" Rupert snaps. "He's keeping him from taking his medicine and you're just going to sit back and say you 'helped!?'"

Terrence stares down at his boots as Rupert locks his eyes on the road.

"I swear, if Charles dies, it's on you."

Terrence only stares out the window and remains silent for a while until they drop off Charles's car and head back to the base.

"He won't die. Henry won't let him."

"How do you know?" Rupert asks.

"Because he's selfish and childish, and he hates sharing his toys."

"But he LEADS the Toppat Clan."

"Which used to belong to Reginald," Terrence explains. "Charles is the General's son, adopted or otherwise, and the General calls MOST of the shots."

Rupert tightens his grip on the steering wheel. "And with Charles on that station, we can't attack."

Terrence nods. "The General's already lost a lot of people. What d'you think he'll do if he accidentally gets Charles incinerated in space?"

They're silent for the rest of the drive, after that.

Now that I bring up Galeforce, we cut to him watching the live feed of Charles escaping before being dragged back to his cell, kicking, screaming, and crying. Right, who's pulling him, grabs his hands and re-restrains him, so Charles is back to hanging.

WITH CHARLES!

He's struggling against his cuffs again as Henry, Right, Reginald and Ellie watch, unimpressed, fed up, and just sick of his BS.

"You know, this would've been A LOT easier, if he'd just stayed like this the entire time," Ellie rematks with her arms folded.

Henry nods, but signs, 'We can't have him atrophied or with his arms stick like that, but at least it keeps him in one place.'

They watch him keep trying to break free, Charles not noticing them.

"We could tell 'im 'ow to get to an escape pod, and 'e wouldn't listen," Right says.

"We could literally say ANYTHING, and he wouldn't listen," Ellie adds.

Reginald only sighs/groans as he leans his head against Right's shoulder. "How long is he going to do that until he realizes it won't help?"

They watch Charles for a little bit longer before, Ellie, who gets the 'okay' nod from Henry, steps up and slams her fist into Charles's stomach.

Charles stops instantly and has a coughing fit.

Cut to Galeforce seeing this and clenching a fist before cutting back to Charles as he keeps coughing.

"You're not doing yourself any favors, so just tell us what we want to know and we'll send you on your merry way."

Charles weakly glares at them, though he looks eyes with Henry.

"What part of 'I don't know where the sapphire is,' do you not understand?" He snaps. "I fell unconscious, when I gave it to them, so HOW could I be able to tell where they hid it?"

Henry furrows his brow before Reginald speaks up, "If you didn't hide it, someone else must have, and you're the top pilot, if you don't know where it is, who would?"

Charles immediately thinks of the twins, but shakes his head, eyes on the floor to avoid looking at everyone. "I don't know."

"Careful, kid," Right says. "If y' keep lying, you'll get yourself killed."

Charles shakes his head again. "I really don't know."

Right, knowing Charles is lying, punches him in the cheek with his non-cybernetic hand.

It makes Charles's ear ring and makes him taste blood(because he bit his cheek), before Henry approaches him and signs to him.

'Don't think I forgot about those twins you care about. If they know, we'll drop you off and pick them up, easy. Unless you want to tell us yourself where ths sapphire is?'

Charles's face drops with horror before he glares and spits a mix of blood and saliva at Henry, hitting him on the cheek.

"Fuck you."

Henry, ever the gentleman, scowls and wipes himself off, nodding at Right and Ellie; 'He's yours.'

He and Reginald turn to leave, but Henry lightly holds Ellie's arm and leans into her ear.

"Don't break him."

"Why would I break your new favorite toy? Give me some credit."

The two smile at each other and Henry leaves, Reginald behind him; he did not want to be in that room when Right and Ellie were there.

The door closes and the two turn to Charles, Right letting Ellie go forst because she's a lady👸

Cut back to Galeforce, who cringes as Ellie punches Charles sone more, the pilot groaning and crying out with each strike.

Victoria and Konrad enter the room carefully, Konrad holding a rolled up piece of paper and Victoria there as his escort and emotional support.

"General, you asked for us?"

Galeforce turns away from the monitor as he it shows Ellie letting Right take a turn and Charles pick up his feet to kick him away.

"I did. How's the design coming along?"

Konrad passes the rolled up paper to Galeforce, who opens and insects it.

"We've already got a few prototypes being built, so we should be ready for testing soon."

Galeforce nods at them. "Good. When they're done, have them tested ASAP, got it?"

Both nod and Galeforce dismisses them, though. Victoria stays to long enough to see him set down the paper and maks himself keep watching the feed, on which Right throws a kick HARD into Charles's stomach and makes him cough worse than when Ellie punched him.

It makes Victoria flunch becofe she turns to the General.

"I don't know who's getting it worse, him or you."

Galeforce ignores her, only watching as Right lets Ellie have a turn again.

Victoria puts a hand on his shoulder, and she can FEEL how much he's shaking.

"We're going to bring him home soon, General. I promise."

Galeforce, without looking, rests his hand on Victoria's.

"Thank you."

CUT BACK TO CHARLES!!!

Right and Ellie are gone, and he's beat to all hell, his face and body bloodied and bruised, though his ribs aren't as significantly bruised as his face, because of obvious reasons.

Charles is breathing heavily and spitting out blood, because it taste makes him sick. He rests his head against his arm and gives his restraints another pull before sighing and letting out a sob.

He doesn't know if the others know he's on the station, but hopes that they're both alright and planning on getting him out, because he's trapped.

Then he thinks about how Henry knew Charles was protecting the twins, and breaks down.

Henry knows about the twins.

"I'm sorry," Charles says to no one in particular. "I'm so sorry."

[izzy-b-hands]

You Send Me: Chapter Four

Some NSFW intimacy, a concert, and the breaking of that first rule mentioned in the last chapter, because honestly, how long could you really keep a relationship secret from bandmates you’re that close to? But props to Freddie and the reader for trying! 

Also, as this is an AU, I’m letting myself mess about with dates as needed, so if you’re looking at the tour listing for this year in the US and going ‘hey what’, my apologies lol. I’ll try and make mention of what city they’re in here and there to help keep a notation on where in that tour timeline we are. 

In regards to the intimacy, I admit it was informed by my own experiences and some of my feelings, so it may not be one hundred percent one size fits all, if you will, but I tried to go as general as I could, for a FtM reader who is on T and has had top sx (I haven’t yet but dang it this fic is wish fulfillment for me too lol) but isn’t having bottom sx. Hopefully it will still read well and be interesting and good regardless, and since this is my first go at it I only hope to improve as time goes on (because I’m having fun writing this, and might well write another Freddie x trans FtM reader fic after this one is done!) 

@xmxisxforxmaybe requested a tag on this, so consider this a start of a tag list for this fic! I’ve never done that before on a fic, so it’s a pretty cool landmark for me! If anyone else would like to be tagged on future chapters of this fic, just send me an ask or a message and I can add you!

My love to all who read/like/reblog!

You woke to the sound of the shower running, and realized it must have been later than you anticipated. Part of you wondered what questions you might meet during the concert setup; namely, the rest of the crew asking where on earth you had spent the night. The other part of you just hoped they maybe hadn’t been paying attention or looking for you, and they wouldn’t ask at all. 

In any case, any worries evaporated as Freddie stepped back into the room, and your brain briefly and wonderfully short-circuited. 

His hair was still dripping, and aside from the towel tied around his waist, there was plenty to take in. Granted, you had seen it last night, but you didn’t think the joy of seeing him relaxed, happy, and disrobed would fade anytime soon, if ever. 

He was just so...tiny. Muscular, but lithe, with hair covering his chest (a particular favorite thing of yours that made your heart beat fast) and a happy trail you resisted the urge to trace with your eyes (that made your heart beat even faster.) 

He caught your gaze and smirked. “Going to blink, or have I broken you?” 

“I’ve been blinking,” you protested with a laugh as you finally blinked and let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. 

“Your turn, if you can tear your eyes away,” Freddie teased before letting himself drop onto the bed, head tossed back and eyes closed as he lounged. 

“If we didn’t have a show to do, I wouldn’t,” you said. “But, considering I haven’t even checked the time...” 

“We have two hours,” Freddie said, then cackled as you shot off the bed and like a rocket into the bathroom. “I was kidding! We have three!” 

“That isn’t better!” you shouted back as you hurried to shower. “God, they must be wondering where we are.” 

“Probably just wondering what we’re up to,” Freddie shouted over the sound of the water. “And that’s none of their business, so nothing to worry about.” 

“Is it really that easy?” 

“I think it can be if we just say that it is,” Freddie replied. “And ignore any badgering they do to us for information.” 

“You make it sound really easy,” you said as you finished, grabbed the last clean towel, and wrapped it around your waist. 

You weren’t thinking about Freddie seeing you like this as you came out, only going through your racing thoughts over what needed to be done for the concert that night. They kept you occupied, even as he stood, walked over to you, and plucked delicately at the edge of your towel. 

“We have three hours.” 

That broke your focus, the feeling of his finger against your hip, working to slowly pull open your towel. 

“We should talk,” you said. “Before. I mean. I don’t...” 

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” Freddie said. “And it wasn’t your friend’s intention, I don’t think, when he told us more of the...let’s say specifics, of your transition, to make you uncomfortable or to be out of line, he meant nothing bad by it, I promise.” 

You breathed a sigh of relief. “So you know then...I haven’t had and don’t plan on getting bottom surgery.” 

“Right,” Freddie said. “And that’s fine.” 

“Really?” you asked.  It wasn’t that it was bad that he was fine with it, it was great in fact, you just hadn’t been sure how he might react or what his feelings on the matter might have been. 

“Would you be in my room, and would I be trying to get this damned thing off of you if it wasn’t?” Freddie asked as he continued to fuss with your towel. “For fuck’s sake, did you knot it? And if so, where? And how?” 

You laughed, and help push at the other side of it until it fell. 

“Are we really going to be done and ready in three hours?” you asked with a smirk as he led you back to the bed, slipping off his own towel as he did. 

“Not if we did everything I had planned,” Freddie smiled. “But we can get to some of it, at least.” 

‘Some of it��� was more kissing (and god how was he this good of a kisser? Was there anything he could do badly?), and the realization that his fingers were just as talented elsewhere as they were on the piano, enough that you finally had to grab his wrist to let him know you needed a moment. 

He grinned at that, only for it to drop as he gasped at the touch of your hand on his cock. 

“Hold on,” he reached over you to the bedside table, for a small bottle of lube that had been tossed in the drawer there discreetly (not really, you and Freddie had made pointed eye contact when he’d put it there) when you’d first settled into the room. 

“Three hours?” you giggled. “You do remember that’s all the time we have, right?” 

He set the lube beside you before pulling you in for a kiss, just as the door to the room popped open.

“Ah! I told you I could get it-” Roger waltzed in, a bobby pin and what looked to be a half-broken key in his hand. “And I am not the only one ‘getting it’ apparently. You do know what time it is, right?” 

Freddie flushed, yanking the blanket over the two of you. “We have at least two hours le-” 

“You would have that,” Brian interrupted as he walked in, covering his eyes, stumbling into the furniture as he went. “But I’m willing to bet you forgot about the difference in time zones. Did you?” 

“I did,” Roger admitted. “Bri here was the shining, annoying beacon of light that came to wake me up.” 

Brian snagged Freddie’s watch from the chair at the other side of the bed, and tossed it to Freddie. “See? Off by two hours still.” 

“So...” you started. “In other words, we need to move extremely fast and meet you in the lobby right away?” 

“Couldn’t have said it any better myself,” Brian replied. “And I still have to see if John is done yet. I mean honestly, how long does it take to do your hair, really?” 

“You? You’re the one saying that?!” Roger scoffed as he followed Brian out of the room, shutting the door behind them. 

Freddie’s head  thumped down against your shoulder as he moaned in frustration. “I would say sorry, but-” 

“I should probably get used to that?” you giggled. “It’s fine, we’ll find more time later.” 

“Says the person who doesn’t have to figure how to put on trousers with this,” Freddie said, gesturing down to his half-hard cock. 

“If we had more time, I would help with it, I swear,” you said, dragging yourself out of the bed and wrangling random clothes from your bag on the floor. 

“I believe you, but we should have had that time now,” Freddie sighed. “How mad would Brian be if we...” 

“Freddie,” you scolded gently. “We’d be keeping the fans waiting more than anyone else, probably.” 

“Good point,” he muttered, climbing out of the bed with a groan. “We are getting time to ourselves though, somehow.” 

“We’ll figure it out,” you replied, waiting for him to finish dressing, only for him to stop and stare at you once he reached the zipper of his trousers.

It took a moment, then it clicked. “Really? All because I’m still standing here, you can’t...calm down enough...” 

You failed to bite back a laugh, and he cocked his head. “Why is that funny?” 

“Because we’re in a rush, and because I have never caused that reaction in anyone, ever before,” you replied. “So I’m a bit tickled, honestly, even though I wouldn’t believe it if I wasn’t here seeing it myself.” 

He rolled his eyes and shook his head. “I hardly doubt this is the first time you’ve put someone in this...situation.” 

“If there was a time before, they should have let me know,” you said. 

His gaze softened, and he seemed to realize exactly how serious you were. “Well, then there are people who’ve been missing out. But better for me, because then I get you to myself.” 

“You do,” you agreed. “Shall I meet you down there?” 

----

In the van, on the way to the venue, he slipped his hand into yours, hidden by the table in the van that currently held an active-but-temporarily-paused Scrabble game. 

It was hard to let go of him as you all piled out of the van, only to be met by the venue owner, swearing up a storm.

“Rats!” he practically shouted at John, who had the unfortunate position of being the first person ahead in the group. 

“You have them, or you have a plan that’s been thwarted?” John chuckled and grinned, only for it to drop as a vein in the venue owner’s head stuck out. “I take it this is a problem for our show?” 

“Well, I don’t know,” the venue owner laughed sarcastically. “I found out from the workers that in addition to damage from the last show, there’s also water damage and fucking rats, eating my stage! They’ve had a fucking rat pool party for years underneath my stage! I’m never going to fucking recover from this!” 

Everyone stopped and stared at one another. This wasn’t exactly your problem, and there was no way to give the man a solution, but there was the problem of eager fans waiting for a show.

“I’ve been turning people away since the last hour,” the venue owner said weakly. “I told them I would see about arranging refunds, or seeing if you can come back and perform at a later date, once I’ve got this bullshit fixed up. I’m so sorry.” 

Roger stepped forward. “No, it’s alright. I mean, this is bad, but if you didn’t know about all this damage until now...not much you or anyone else can do. I’m sure we can figure something out.” 

You joined the rest of the crew back near the van while the band talked business with the venue owner, impatiently waiting to see what would happen next. 

“If we get a move on now, we can be in the next city early,” one tech remarked. “Have a bit of free time again.” 

“We just got a fucking day off,” Crystal said. “If you wanted an American vacation, then this was the wrong tour to come on.” 

“I didn’t fucking say that, did I?” argued the tech. “Don’t put words in my mouth just because you’re pissed about this. We’re all upset.” 

“It’s true,” you added. “This isn’t good for any of us, not the venue, not the fans.” 

“Oh, lovely. The bitch fucking the lead singer is going to preach at us,” the tech scoffed, and your heart stopped cold. 

“I-” 

Even Crystal seemed to realize it was a step too far, and held up a hand. “Hey. What any one of us decides to do with the band is our own business, yeah? As long as it doesn’t conflict or cause a problem. You guys don’t know everything I’ve gotten up to with Rog, right? Not ever fucked him, I mean, that’s not my speed, but...you get what I’m saying?” 

You all nodded, and you resisted the urge to cry, even as tears threatened to fall. If it wasn’t one thing, it would have been another. You were the new kid, taking up space, slow to learn, and fucking up their usual ways of running a tour. This was just a part of becoming a proper member of the crew, surely. 

“Thank you,” you managed to mumble to Crystal as the band started to walk back over to the van. 

“Not a problem,” Crystal replied. “Ignore them, okay? They’re just in shit moods because of this, and half of ‘em might even be jealous. Not for the fucking, I mean, but the closeness, you know? Everybody wants to have a story at the end of the day, wants to be able to say they know something special about the bands they’ve worked for.” 

“I really like him,” you said. “I’m not just with him to get ‘a story’ out of it.” 

“You’re young,” Crystal said, and sighed, then left it at that as he climbed into the van. 

Freddie didn’t ask anything when you were all in and on the road, but you could tell he wanted to ask what had happened. In equal manner, you were eager to know what agreement had been reached with the venue. If you would be returning and it would be the new last stop of the tour, you wouldn’t mind a mini vacation there with him, if he was up for it. 

And frankly, the rest of the crew could sit and spin if they had an issue with that. 

It was dark when the van finally stopped again, and you stumbled out of it only to find yourself at a truck stop. 

“We’re ahead of schedule, apparently,” Freddie yawned as he stepped out beside you. “You slept through us getting back to the hotel, so I grabbed your things. I’ve never seen you in that green top, why don’t you wear it more?” 

“Too bright to wear backstage,” you replied, thinking of the gauzy, electric-green button-up in your suitcase. You had packed it as a back-up, knowing it would likely never get worn anyway, but you would have it just in case you somehow couldn’t do laundry or ran out of everything else. 

“Fuck that,” Freddie said, then yawned again. “Wear it before a show then, when we’re on the road. That color must look lovely on you.” 

“It does, or so I’m told,” you said, and he raised a brow. 

“By my mum,” you continued dryly. “I wore it to a family event once to cause a stir. Think it was more of a stir that I showed up at all.” 

He opened his mouth, you figured to ask more about that, but Roger interrupted with a clap of his hands. 

“Use the bathroom, then get back on. We’ve got another hour to New Haven.” 

Everyone groaned in tired solidarity, and Roger laughed. “I know, I know. But we’ll get a little bit of time at the hotel, to sleep in an actual bed. That’s exciting, right?” 

“Depends on whether or not you’re going to keep breaking into my room,” Freddie answered. 

“Stop having such easily breakable locks,” Roger replied as he followed Freddie back onto the bus.

“That is hardly within my control!” you heard Freddie laugh back, and you pondered if any of the furniture in the next hotel would be movable, and would fit in front of the room door. 

If nothing else, you would try putting up the Do Not Disturb sign anyway. 

[kazzmcsass]

Journalism with the Boys

Chapter 4: Horror Movie Party Thing

Word Count: 2154

Dakotah almost didn't make it to the mini horror convention. He was suddenly woken up with his phone rattling relentlessly on his bedside table. When did he fall asleep? He did not have the time for a nap. Dakotah picked up the phone and flicked it open, squinting at the name of whoever dared call him.

He let out an annoyed, hissing sigh and picked up the call, "What?" 

"Where are you?" Jack's staticky voice came to him.

Dakotah panicked for a moment before he looked at his plastic alarm clock. He still had 45 minutes to get ready and leave, "At home, why are you calling me?"

"You got a car, right? Need a ride," Jack said.

Dakotah flopped back in bed, held his phone far away from him, then pressed his face into his crooked elbow so he could groan as loud as he could. Seconds later he had already collected himself again, "Why are you only asking now?" 

"Damn, you got a pet jaguar or somethin'?" Jack asked.

Dakotah did not respond.

"Okay, listen. I was gonna have someone else drop me off there but they bailed out last minute. I'm president so I'm supposed to be there and you're vice president so you gotta help me," Jack explained.

"I don't have to do shit," Dakotah grumbled.

"Come on, man," Jack whined.

Dakotah sat up and grumpily closed the textbook he was supposed to have been reading, "Fine. Okay. Let me know where to pick you up."

Thankfully Jack actually didn't live too far away from SCCC. Since he didn't drive or have his own car he presumably walked to campus. Dakotah had to rush getting ready to have enough time for the detour to pick up Jack and get to the library on time.

Jack’s house actually looked quite nice, on the outside at least. Jack lived in a nice little neighborhood with a house that looked like it was owned by a middle aged Karen type. Thankfully Dakotah didn't even have to call Jack before he was out of the house and booking it towards his car.

Jack slammed his door unnecessarily loud and sighed, "I knew you'd come in clutch." He slouched down in the seat and stared out the windshield, fixing up his slicked back hair, until he realized they weren't moving and Dakotah was staring at him, "Gonna get going?"

"Your seatbelt," Dakotah said simply.

Jack rolled his eyes, but clicked his seatbelt into place without complaining. Then they left. They were silent, Jack not saying anything and Dakotah not having anything to say. Dakotah eventually turned the radio up to a polite volume. He rather liked jazzy music and morning talk shows. At one point Dakotah realized that Jack was tapping his fingers against the dashboard to the tune of the piano as he stared out his passenger window. He decided not to say anything about it.

The library was a good ways away from Jack's house and they only started conversation in the last few minutes.

"Is Courtney doing okay?" Dakotah asked. They didn't really cross paths through the day, so he hadn't seen Courtney in some time.

"Yeah, taking it like a champ," Jack said, "The guy's really acting like he always has."

"Okay, thank god. I couldn't imagine how awkward it would be if he was moping about. Not that I would blame him," Dakotah said.

He carefully pulled into the cluttered parking lot of the library the event was taking place at. He had to wait as a soccer mom guided her herd of kids across the lot, not even sparing him a nod or wave. Prick. Jack was nice enough to point out that all the spots seemed to be taken. Dakotah hated driving. He eventually found a spot and had to finesse his way into it.

Jack exited the vehicle as soon as he turned the engine off, immediately on his phone. Dakotah took his time as he wasn't in a damn rush like him. He had to lock the car from the inside as the clicker on his keys never worked since he got the old thing. Jack was waiting for him at the end of the car, hands shoved in the pockets of his black jeans. He hadn't even thought to dress up, only wearing jeans, a purple button-up, and a disgustingly unfashionable jean jacket.

Or a Jacket as the teens would say these days. Oh wait. It doesn't really work when the word starts with a J already. Anyway.

"They're gonna meet us in the foyer," Jack announced before glaring at a happy couple who passed by. Guy couldn't stand to see other people be happy and mind their own business, apparently. 

Dakotah just nodded and they walked into the library. He held the door open for Jack out of courtesy. No 'thank you', but Dakotah didn't expect much anyway. As Jack had said, the other two club members met them in the rather quiet foyer. Voices from the small convention drifted out from a room to the right, presumably some sort of event room the establishment had to avoid any events from disrupting the quiet library part 

"Glad you came!" Courtney chirped in a respectfully quiet, but cheerful voice.

It was like nothing had changed with him. Dakotah found it a bit unnerving, but he didn't say anything.

"Let's go in," Hugo said eagerly. 

Dakotah could tell he was itching to dig into the nerd shit that was bound to be in the convention. The group followed him in as he excitedly scurried along. People cleared the way for him, presumably more out of fear of being trampled rather than respect. 

As they entered, Dakotah was hit with a wave of warmth. The chatter was much louder and there was music playing quietly under it all. Around the perimeter of the room booths were set up for vendors. One area had a cluster of tables and chairs while on the far side two tables with modest lines were set up. 

Hugo immediately dove right the fuck in. Courtney followed close behind him and then Dakotah and Jack trailed behind them. He wasn't much for conventions or buying the little knick knacks or gushing of similar interest. He had grown out of that sort of stuff ages ago. Dakotah, nor Jack, hid their lack of enthusiasm.

"You don’t have to follow me, you can go look where you want to,” Hugo said after the group followed him to several booths. It was clear he was directing it to Jack and Dakotah, though.

“I want to stay close, for when you’re ready to do the interview,” Dakotah said and Jack grunted in what was presumably agreement.

Hugo suddenly looked excited, his concern quickly forgotten as he remembered the reason why they were here in the first place. “Ah, good point,” He said before focusing back on whatever goofy merchandise he had been scrutinizing before.

Dakotah was sure to give him a bit more space after that, as to not bare down on the guy. Which was probably impossible since he had to be 6 and a half feet tall. He may not enjoy the subject matter, but it was clear Hugo was rather happy. Courtney was uncharacteristically quiet, however. He still looked cheerful and his voice remained high and airy, but he wasn’t as talkative. No doubt the death of his grandmother still weighed on him.

“The original will always be the best,” Jack commented, taking Dakotah out of his thoughts.

“Huh?” He asked. He looked up and saw that the table they stood at now had various posters with knives and hockey masks and Friday the 13th printed across them, “You like these movies?”

“They’re classics, everyone’s seen them,” Jack dismissed.

“I haven’t,” Dakotah said.

Jack immediately looked pissed and on guard, a common expression for him, it seemed. He rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, not unlike a petulant child, “Why are you making a big deal over it?”

“I’m not making a ‘big deal’ over it,” Dakotah said. His voice rising in annoyance as well, “It’s okay to be interested in things, Jack.”

Jack didn’t say anything and instead ignored him. Geeze, this guy was a lot of work. Always trying to fight about something. They didn’t make much conversation after that and gradually made their way down the line until they were at the tables for the two authors. One person had a small line while the other was idly fiddling with the stacks of pamphlets and fliers on her table. 

“What the fuck?” Jack whispered.

Dakotah gave him a raised brow, prompting Jack to point at one of the books propped up on her table. Werewolf Pirate Love. The head of a wolf over a stormy sea with an 18th century ship being tossed about made up the cover.

“Oh,” Is all Dakotah could say.

Hugo eagerly approached the small-time author, who politely smiled at the group.

“Hey- I love your work. I’m a part of South Central Community College’s Journalism Club and was hoping you had some time for an interview,” Hugo said, the words tumbling out a bit too fast as he let his excitement overtake him.

Seconds later the group had been ushered behind the table, squeezing together in the small space. They all loomed behind Hugo, not unlike a gang ready to kneecap someone. Give us the wolf smut or else, ma’am. You’ll find out what the knife’s for soon enough if you don’t fess up. Dakotah was getting really bored.

Hugo pulled out a small notepad and a dingy pencil, poised and ready to write down what golden knowledge he was about to receive. He opened his mouth to ask the first question, but was interrupted by Dakotah.

“Do you mind if we record this interview, Ma’am?” He asked.

Hugo, who had been too eager to get to the goods, nodded and dug in his pockets for his phone.

“I don’t mind at all,” She said.

The questions weren’t anything special. The usual ‘favorite book’ and ‘biggest challenge’. He was a bit tense at first, but as Hugo got into the swing of things he loosened up and held a more conversational interview with the woman. Thankfully it didn’t last too long. Hugo was running out of questions, though it seemed he was hesitant to stop talking to the author, even if she was rather obscure.

“Okay, final question,” Hugo said before a gigantic, goofy smile spread across his face, “I loved the romance between Romeo and Roman in Werewolf Pirate Love. Do you plan on having future romance in your novels, or even exploring the romance genre in general?”

Dakotah pinched the bridge of his nose and Jack groaned. This man was embarrassing.

The woman smiled and gave him a sly shrug, “We’ll have to see.”

The group decided to wait in the seating area afterwards. The second author was on a break and told them to come back 20 minutes later. Hugo was happy to visit the rest of the booths, but they still had a few minutes to spare after that. Dakotah had grabbed them some of the free waters they were offering, a blessing because of how hot and crowded the room was starting to feel. 

“What’s the other lady’s name again?” Dakotah asked. It wasn’t his interview, but Mister Harlow had suggested they use the other members’ events to still practice their writing skills. 

“Her pen name is Pearl Stormy,” Hugo answered

Dakotah nodded and went to take a sip from his water.

“Sounds like a porn star name,” Jack commented.

Dakotah snorted. He inhaled his water. Then he started coughing, thankfully not spilling water over himself in the process. Hugo and Jack immediately started laughing, Jack being gracious enough to smack him on the back a few times. The moment made Dakotah realize something, though.

“Where’d Courtney go?” He asked, voice still a bit strained.

Hugo looked to the empty seat next to himself then shrugged, “Bathroom, I guess.”

Dakotah nodded, wiping away the droplets of water that had landed on the table with his sleeve. Jack caught Dakotah's arm and he was ready to beat the fuck out of him before Jack twisted his wrist around to peer at his watch.

“Time’s up, go interview your lady,” He said before letting him go and standing.

Hugo and Dakotah followed suit, but Dakotah paused. Courtney had really just slipped away without a word. Hugo seemed too excited to meet his semi-famous author to care, and he knew Jack wasn’t going to care about anyone but himself. Dakotah held back a sigh. He guessed it was his job the give a fuck, then.

“I’m going to find Courtney,” Dakotah said, “In case he wants in on the interview.”

“Yup,” is all Jack said before the two headed off to the table.

[basically-i-write-shit]

Ushiyama prompt. While out Yamaguchi gets hit in the head and forgets who he is. Ushijima finds him, doesn’t recognize him and takes care of him? What happens? What about Karasuno when Yama comes up missing? What happens when they find memory loss Yama!?

This is???? SO CUTE?? 

Ushijima Wakatoshi is not a monster. He’s really not! He was raised to be a gentleman, after all. If he’s able to help someone in need, he will of course. Unlike Oikawa Tooru would like to think, he wouldn’t just – say – leave a poor kid who fell in the streets laying on the ground. 

On the contrary. While on a run a ways away from his university campus, he catches sight of a high school student falling down rather hard after running into a tree with his bike. He turns to go help him somehow, but when he sees the kid doesn’t get up, his walking turns to a light run; it’s a cool Sunday afternoon, and so not a lot of people are out, and no one else seems to have noticed the kid fall. 

When Wakatoshi kneels down by this guy’s side, he’s just coming to seemingly from passing out. 

“Ugh…Oh, man, what happened?..” The stranger props himself up on his elbows with a groan, and Wakatoshi is struck with how beautiful he is; freckles dot a sun-kissed face, only marred by a big scrape on his forehead which is only slightly covered by inky dark hair. He looks confused, eyes glazed over and unfocused. 

“You fell off of your bike, and it seems you hit your head rather hard. Do you know the date, where you are?..” 

The stranger blinks, confused a moment, and shakes his head. “I- I’m on the ground…on a…Tuesday…” 

Wakatoshi frowns. He helps the stranger sit up all the way and lean against the tree. “Well, you’re on the ground. It is not Tuesday, however, it is Sunday; do you know your location? Where is the ground that you are on?” 

“I…No…I– I can- I c- can- I can’t…my…name..?” The realization that he can’t remember his name has the stranger panicking, and his breath hitches. Wakatoshi gives an awkward pat on the shoulder, trying to comfort him. 

“It’s quite alright. How about I take you to my dorm, so that you are not alone, and we can find out who you are?” 

“You’re a college student? Am I one?” 

The wonder in the stranger’s voice makes Wakatoshi smile. It reminds him of when he cracks jokes with Tendou. He stands and grabs the stranger’s hand and easily pulls him up, propping him against a tree to steady him while he gains his footing. While the stranger holds himself up Wakatoshi grabs the almost forgotten bicycle and starts to lead it to the side walk. 

“I do not know if you are or not, though I suppose we’ll figure out when your memory comes back to you. Follow me, okay? We aren’t far from my dorm.” 

The stranger nods, and starts to walk. Wakatoshi keeps his strides small so that he doesn’t go too fast. 

“I…If you want, you can call me by a random name…If you– w- wa– if y- if you want. I feel bad that I can- n’t remember…”

“What would you like me to call you?” 

“Hm…that’s a good question…How about– abou- about…Tadami. That’s a good name.” 

Wakatoshi nods. “Alright, Tadami-san. I am Ushijima Wakatoshi. It is nice to meet you.” 

“It’s nice to meet you too, Wakatoshi-san. I’m so- sor- r- sorry– sorry about this…” 

Wakatoshi wonders if the stutter is normal for Tadami, and makes note to mention it to whoever he can find to pick him up. Just in case. 

“It’s no problem. I was on my way home anyhow.” He says. “Are you okay walking? You’re wobbly.” 

“Ah, I- Yeah, I’m f- I’m f- fi- fine.” Tadami replies with a smile. “How are you?” 

“I’m not the one that ran into a tree, so I suppose I’m fine.” 

“Oh.” Tadami blushes. “Right. Whoops!” 

Wakatoshi smiles. “It’s no issue. Here, we’re at my dorm– I’m going to leave your bike out front, the campus has very little crime.” 

“Oh, o- okay! If you trust it, th- the- then– then I do too.” Tadami gives a nod and a trusting smile, and Wakatoshi feels glad that he isn’t scared of him– most people are scared of Wakatoshi because of his size. 

Wakatoshi puts the bike on the rack in front of his building and leads Tadami inside. He makes sure to help the kid up the stairs, since he’s still rather wobbly, and into his room. Once Tadami is sat down on his desk chair, Wakatoshi suddenly doesn’t know what to do. He got him here…now what? The guy could be seriously hurt, but he doesn’t want to take him to the doctor if he doesn’t know who he is. 

So what do you do when you have a guy who doesn’t know who he is in your room? 

Wakatoshi’s thoughts are cut off by Tadami reaching up to brush his hair from his eyes and wincing. Oh, right. He has a scraped up face, and a headwound. Attend to those before anything else. 

“Here, hold on.” Wakatoshi steps into the hallway and grabs the first aid kit that hangs in the bathroom across the hall. He brings it back and kneels down in front of Tadami, brushing his hair away and opening up a disinfectant wipe. “This may sting. It’s alright if you grab onto my shoulder to help with the pain.” 

Tadami nods slowly and gently grabs his shoulder, and Wakatoshi gently dabs at the scrapes and cuts on his face. The alcohol must burn, because Tadami’s face scrunches up and he whimpers, his grip on Wakatoshi tightening  bit. Once Wakatoshi finishes wiping away the worst of it, he tosses the wipe aside and goes to his freezer, grabbing an ice pack. He usually uses them for his shoulder after practice, but since there wasn’t practice today it’s still cold. 

“Here. Have this, your head must hurt.” 

“Oh, thank you.” Tadami takes the pack and places it on his temple with a hum. Damn, he’s in a lot of pain…

“Are you feeling alright?..Any nausea, dizziness?” 

“Ah, I’m a b- bi- bit– bit dizzy, but I’m o- okay.” Tadami flashes a bright smile, and Wakatoshi is blinded a moment. How can he smile so brightly when he’s injured and confused? 

“Would you like to lay down? I feel it would be best, just in case. You hit your head hard.” 

“O- Oh, no, I’m fi- fin– fine..! No w- wo– worr- worries!” 

“If that’s what you wish.” Wakatoshi goes and sits down at his roommate’s desk, pulling out his phone. Should he call anyone? If so, who? 

To: Tendou Satori

Tendou. I’ve come across an issue, and would like advice. Please respond quickly. -UW

From: Tendou Satori

Ohoho? Wakatoshi-kun with an issue that he can’t solve? What, tell, is it? 

To: Tendou Satori

I’ve acquired guardianship of a lost teenager. He does not know his own name or where he is. Who do I call? -UW

“So…are any of your memories returning?” 

Tadami looks up with a hum. “I…think I remember where I was going, but not what I was doing…” 

“That’s progress. Where?” 

bzz bzz! 

From: Tendou Satori

Wait, what? Hahaha omg Wakatoshi-kun you’re a prankster alright! There’s no way this is real. 

“I think I was on the way to the con– co– c- convenien– convenience store for something…” 

The stutter is going away, gradually. Good, that must mean the head injury caused it. 

“Ah, well it’s a start. Do you have a cellphone that could help you jog your memory?..” 

“Ah! That might work…” 

Wakatoshi snaps a quick picture of Tadami while he’s looking for his phone and sends it to Tendou. 

From: tendou Satori 

Oh my god Wakatoshi-kun were you the one that hit him or something?

Did you kidnap a high school student? You need to get rid of the evidence not be texting evidence to me!

Now if the police ask I have to show them our text messages. 

Wakatoshi frowns. Evidence? 

“Ah. I…don’t remember the pa– p- pass– pass– pa- pass code.” 

“That would make sense. I don’t know much about technology, so I’m no help trying to figure out how to unlock it…” 

To: Tendou Satori

I did not kidnap a college student. He fell down and had no recollection of who he is. I do not know what to do, or where to take him. 

“There’s a person that isn’t me in my lock screen photo…but I can’t remember who it is…” Tadami shows the screen to Wakatoshi and he has to do a double-take. In the photo, Tadami is side-by-side grinning with a boy that he knows well. 

Tsukishima Kei. 

Now everything is starting to click. This kid – Yamaguchi Tadashi – is the one that knows that jump float serve, who helped Karasuno beat his team. From across the court, Wakatoshi wasn’t able to make out any features; he wasn’t able to see how much of a beauty he was. 

“It seems I recognize the person in the photo, but I do not know how to contact him. Give me a moment.” 

“Really?! You know who it is? Who is it?” 

“Does the name Tsukishima bring up any memories?” 

To: Tendou Satori

…What would the number to the captain of Karasuno be? I figured out who the kid is. 

“I…I– I don’t think so…” 

From: Tendou Satori 

No. Way. 

Wakatoshi-kun you’re kidding me. 

I just looked at the picture again and now I realize why the kid looked so familiar. 

No. Way. 

I’m on my way over now. 

Wakatoshi’s phone buzzes once again with the current captain of Nekoma’s phone number, with the promise that they will know. He sends off a text to them, and promptly get a reply with Karasuno’s captain’s number. 

“He’s a classmate of yours, I believe. I know him from volleyball.” 

“You play volleyball? That sounds fun!” 

He nods and gets up to talk in the hallway with this…Ennoshita fellow. “Let me just get in contact with him quickly. Please excuse me, Yamaguchi-kun.” 

“Yama– Is that my name?..” 

Oh yeah. He forgot. “Yamaguchi Tadashi. That’s your name.” 

He closes his door and walks down the hallway a bit, pressing call on Ennoshita’s phone number. 

“…Hello?..” 

“Hello. Is this Ennoshita Chikara, captain of Karasuno high school’s mens volleyball club?” 

Ennoshita sounds shocked. “I…Well, yes, who is this?” 

“Ushijima Wakatoshi.” 

The background on Ennoshita’s side of the call explodes with loud cries of “Ushiwaka?!” and more creative expletives than he’s heard in a while. The captain shushes them, and there’s silence. 

“And what do you need, Ushijima-san? We’re in the middle of searching for a lost teammate–” 

“Ah, that’s what I am calling about. I’ve found him.” 

Once again the sound of the team behind Ennoshita yelling about something or other. Ennoshita doesn’t quiet them again, instead choosing to speak over the noise. “Wh– you– You found Yamaguchi? Where is he? Is he alright?” 

“He seems to have gotten a head injury, and does not know his own identity nor where he was going. He is in my dorm room at my university, waiting to be picked up. Do you have contact information for his parents so that I can call them?” 

“H- His family is out of town on business, Tsukishima-kun’s family is watching over him…We’ll send him over with his brother to take him straight home– text me the address. Thank you so much for keeping him safe! We owe you one.” 

“I will send you the address immediately. Goodbye.” 

Ushijima sends his address to Ennoshita before returning to his dorm. Yamaguchi is still sitting at the desk, reading some class notes he left on his desk. “You’re going to school for bu– b- busi– busin– ness?” 

“Yes. I’m in my first year.” He hums. “There are people coming to pick you up.” 

“That’s good. Thank you for keeping me sa- safe.” 

“Of course. It was no issue.” 

“No, really! You’re a nice guy Wakatoshi-kun! I hope that we can meet again, in different circumstances.” 

Yamaguchi’s smile is so bright, and Wakatoshi would blush if he hadn’t trained his face to remain so stoic. 

“I would like that as well.” 

Before he knows it, Tsukishima Kei and his brother are knocking on his door. He helps in loading the bike into the trunk of the elder Tsukishima’s car before giving his farewells to Yamaguchi; Yamaguchi seems a bit shaken up, as he still doesn’t remember much of his life and doesn’t recognize the Tsukishimas. Wakatoshi almost doesn’t want to let him leave, if he’s going to be so upset. 

They get Yamaguchi into the back seat after a bit of protest and Tsukishima is going to get into the passenger side, leaving Wakatoshi panicking. 

“Tsukishima.” 

Tsukishima pauses, seemingly surprised by Wakatoshi’s outburst. Truth be told Wakatoshi himself is rather surprised. 

“When you get him checked out…inform me of Yamaguchi’s status, please. My job will not feel complete until I know he is well.” 

Tsukishima nods once, twice, and disappears into the car. He sighs as the car pulls away, leaving him alone. He turns to head back inside. 

“Wakatoshi-kun! Wakatoshi-kun! Where’s the kid? I ran all the way over here to see him!” 

Wakatoshi turns to see Tendou running up, and he waits until Tendou stops in front of him, panting, to speak. “Oh. He just left.”

Ushijima doesn’t understand humor much, but he does find it a bit funny to see Tendou’s face when he hears that. He leads Tendou back into the dorm, his thoughts stuck on freckles and tan skin. 

Yamaguchi Tadashi…Wakatoshi sure does hope that he can hear from him again.

[imagine-loki]

Packless Monsters

TITLE: Packless Monsters CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 43/? AUTHOR: nekoamamori ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine you’re a werewolf who ends up in the company of Loki in the Avenger’s tower after saving Pepper’s life RATING: M NOTES/WARNINGS:  This chapter is smut.  You have been warned

Also on AO3 click here

   You eased Loki to the ground gently, cradling his head. “Loki, wake up!” you bid him urgently when he was safely down, but he wasn’t stirring. His face was flushed already. That wasn’t good. “Shit,” you cursed. You touched his forehead. He was fevered already, though no one else would realize, not yet. He was only slightly warmer than human warm. They wouldn’t understand the danger of a frost giant being that warm.

    Samuel and Dan ran over. You crouched over Loki, still caught in the battle fury, ready to defend your mate, one of Loki’s daggers in your hand. It was damn useful that he kept them hidden everywhere. “Easy, Omega, let us help,” Samuel’s voice was the soft gentle croon of an Alpha calming one of his people.

    Allies. Allies were useful. You cleared your grief. Grief would come later. Right now you had to save Loki before the bite and infection killed him. “Samuel, call your father, tell him what happened. You two will clean up here? I need to get him back to the tower, now,” you snapped as you shifted position to kneel beside Loki. Samuel knelt too and touched Loki’s forehead.

    “The fever isn’t bad…” he started, not even upset that you were barking orders.

    “Yes. It is,” you corrected him quickly as you cut Loki’s jacket sleeve away. You ripped material from your shirt, which had been laying on the ground where Loki dropped it when he was attacked, to use to bandage the still-bleeding wound on his arm. “Loki’s not human. He runs colder than a human. The fact that he has a fever at all is deadly. I need to get him home, but we didn’t drive…” No one questioned that you were taking Loki to the tower. A hospital couldn’t help him and you couldn’t take werewolf problems to a hospital.

    “Take my car. Samuel will give me a ride home after we clean up here,” Dan told you and tossed you his keys. You caught them automatically and nodded. “His is a rental,” he added before Samuel could complain that he was supposed to offer his vehicle for your use. You took Loki’s comm device from around his ear and settled it on yours.

    “J, patch me in,” you ordered, Loki’s comm wouldn’t automatically respond to your words unless you told it to.

    “Yes, Miss,” Jarvis replied, the AI a reassuring presence.

    “Loki’s injured. I’m bringing him home as fast as I can drive. Thor, if you’re there, it’s bad. Really bad,” you told the tower and anyone who had a comm to hear you. They should all be there, but you weren’t waiting for their answer.

    “Are you ok to drive?” Dan asked. You glared at him as you moved to stand, reached to lift Loki from the ground.

    “Let me,” Samuel told you gently.

    “Careful. If he wakes-”

    “If he wakes right now, I will gladly accept the miracle and the subsequent stabbing,” Samuel told you, not unkindly. He lifted Loki easily from the ground. The three of you made your way to Dan’s car and got Loki settled as comfortably as possible laying across the back seat. “Are you ok to drive?” Samuel repeated the, noting your injuries, which you were completely ignoring.

    “I’m fine,” you snarled at him. You ignored that you were completely covered in blood, with broken ribs, still bleeding from the wounds on your arm, stomach, and face.

    “Go take care of your mate. We will clean up here and I will call Fenrir,” Samuel told you. You nodded and climbed into Dan’s car, an old battered vehicle that he was obviously expecting to have an injured werewolf in. Thank the gods it wasn’t his nice car.

    “Jarvis, can you clear the traffic?” you asked as you stepped on the gas.

    “Traffic has been cleared, Miss. You have a clear path back to the tower. The team is waiting for you,” Jarvis replied. You could have wept in relief. You floored the gas and drove as fast as Dan’s car could go. There was a police barricade blocking the street you needed, but Jarvis must have told them what vehicle they were looking for, since they got out of your way well before you mowed them down. Thank all the gods, because there was no way you could explain the amount of blood you were covered in, your injuries, or the unconscious god in the back seat to the police.

    You parked the car directly in front of the tower. The team came out of the tower like angry hornets to meet you. You jumped out of the car. “What happened?” Thor demanded as you opened the back door of the car.

    “Jareth bit him. I don’t have time to explain and save his life. Thor, take him up to his room, start a bath as cold as you can, we have to get this fever down, now,” Thor was the best one for that task. Loki stabbing him if he happened to wake wouldn’t kill him. You would carry Loki yourself, but your ribs were still broken. You had to rely on the team to help you. Ok, you didn’t have to, but they were here and willing and you would take all of the help you could get. Thor lifted Loki so gently and carefully into his arms. “Shit, the shields on his room. If they won’t let you in, take him to my room instead. Romanoff, get the big scary first aid kit, the good one, pain killers that will work on Asgardians, and some peroxide or something to clean the wound,” Nat nodded and rushed off too. “Barton, bring at least two of those big bags of ice Stark bought for next week’s party,” he nodded and you were so grateful in that moment that they were listening to you. “Cap, Stark, I know Jarvis took video. Watch the footage so you can explain what happened to the others. Please, deal with the press so I can focus on saving him,”

    “Go, we’ll take care of things. Who does this car belong to?” Cap asked, knowing full well that you hadn’t left with a car.

    “My brother Dan,” you tossed Cap the keys. He would put the car somewhere more useful than an illegal spot in front of the tower.

    “Kid, are you ok?” Tony demanded. You looked like hell and you knew it. You also felt like hell, but you couldn’t focus on that right now.

    “I’ll be fine. I heal fast. He won’t survive without my help. I’m the only one here who has nursed someone through a werewolf bite.” Tony nodded and you ran inside. You realized in your haste to get back here that you hadn’t bothered putting your shoes back on, and your shirt was currently a bandage around Loki’s arm, so you were in nothing more than your sports bra. You’d been distracted to say the least. No wonder the team was worried. You jabbed the elevator button impatiently and were tempted to take the stairs, but that was just impatience talking, it was still faster to wait for the elevator. “Jarvis, what room are they in?” you asked while you waited.

    “Yours, Miss,”

    “Drop the temperature as far as you can,” you ordered. “Please,” you added as an after thought. You were going to have to apologize for being so short with everyone after you had saved Loki’s life. You had a feeling they’d understand. The elevator finally came and after a minute of pacing, finally opened again on the floor of your room. You ran down the hall and skidded into your room. Nat was just bringing in the first aid kit and it looked like Clint had just arrived too with the ice. Loki was laying on your bed and looked worse than ever. “Thanks for your help,” you told Nat and Clint. “You two should get out of here before he wakes.”

    “Are you sure?” Nat asked.

    “You know him, he’ll stab first and ask questions later. Thor and I can survive it,”

    “Call us if you need us,” Clint told you warmly, reassuringly. “Don’t worry, he’ll make it. He’s too stubborn not to,” he grabbed Nat’s arm and dragged her from the room. She would have stubbornly stayed to help too.

    “Thor?” you asked as you went to the bed. He stepped out of the bathroom. “Clint brought the ice,” you gestured to the ice by the door. “Can you dump it in the tub too?” He nodded and did as you bid.

    You sat on the bed next to Loki and touched his forehead. The fever was only getting worse. He was flushed and sweating, his cheeks were actually turning purple, as if his Jotun form were blushing. He made a soft whimpering noise. “Shh, love, it’ll be alright,” you told him softly. You allowed yourself a moment of worry before you jumped back to work. “Thor, if you don’t want to see Loki in his underwear, you’d best leave too,” you warned. You had to get Loki’s temperature down. Now.

    “I have seen worse,” Thor replied dryly as he joined you in the room again. You were already removing Loki’s shoes. “However, it is wise not to tell him that I helped with this,”

    “Agreed.” Between you and Thor you got Loki stripped. You could have done it yourself, and had been planning on doing so in a much more enjoyable manner since you watched him dress earlier that day, but he was unconscious and therefore unhelpful, so Thor being able to hold him up while you worked was a blessing. Unsurprisingly, Thor left removing Loki’s pants to you. Some things even he couldn’t handle.

    “I’m sorry, love,” you told Loki softly as you and Thor gently eased him into the tub of ice-cold water. Loki hissed at the shock, even unconscious, but soon made a soft moan of relief. You made sure his head stayed above the water, propping it on a pillow on the edge of the tub. You dipped a washcloth in the freezing water, wrung it out and placed it on his brow.

    “He is not changing forms,” Thor’s voice was full of concern as you sat next to the tub with the giant first aid kit.

    “I know. The fever’s too high,” you replied softly. Loki’s injured arm was hanging out of the tub into your lap. You unwrapped the makeshift bandage to look over the damage. It was bad and still bleeding, but sluggishly. You wrapped a towel around it to slow the bleeding until you could tend it properly. It was also inflamed and puffy, a red steak running from the wound up Loki’s arm. You cursed again and grabbed the bottle of pain meds Nat had given you. You tossed them to Thor. “Whatever the correct dose of those is for an Asgardian crush them up. There’s a glass in the medicine cabinet behind the mirror,” you added. Thor handed you the glass with powder in the bottom of it a moment later. You filled the glass with enough water to dissolve the powder. You lifted Loki’s shoulders, tilting his head back. He made a soft pained noise, his eyelids fluttered when he was moved. He was doing better, only mostly unconscious, cooler already.

    “It’s alright, love. I’m here. You’re safe now. This will help,” you told him softly, gently, using the soothing voice you’d learned through years of patching up injured werewolves. You held the glass to his lips. He was just conscious enough to drink the contents, little by little. “Good, love, good,” you told him and kissed his forehead before you settled his head back on the pillow on the edge of the tub, the washcloth back in place on his forehead. He tried to crack his eyes open, moaned in a fevered pain. “Shh, love. Relax. You’ll be ok. I’m here,” you promised him as you pulled your Omega peace to share with him. He relaxed again with the smallest smile in his expression

    “You are good at this,” Thor said helplessly from the sidelines.

    “I’ve had practice, though not like this, not with someone I love,” you replied softly. You unwrapped Loki’s wound again and got to work cleaning it. You winced at every whimper of pain as you poured peroxide over the wound, as you carefully stitched the bigger gashes shut. You bandaged the others and carefully wrapped a bandage over the whole thing.

    You looked up when your phone rang in the other room. You were busy bandaging Loki’s arm. “Can you-?” Thor was already walking to the phone. He picked it up and answered. “Y/N, it’s Fenrir,” he announced as he walked back into the room.

    “Hi, Fenrir, sorry, I’m a bit busy!” you said loudly enough that the werewolf’s sharp ears would be able to hear you. You didn’t have to stop your task to answer the phone.

    “Samuel told me what happened. I’m on my way,” you sighed in relief. Fenrir would be able to help properly.

    “Thank you,” was all you could say in reply.

    “You know how to help him, little Omega. He’s a god. He’ll be fine,” Fenrir reassured you. The phone clicked as he disconnected, apparently feeling it unnecessary to say anything more. You finished with Loki’s arm and propped it on the edge of the tub where he’d be more comfortable and the bandage wouldn’t get wet.

    “Thanks for your help, Thor. Can you tell the others Fenrir is coming? You don’t want to get caught up with what comes next,” you were exhausted already, injured yourself, and still… you weren’t giving up on Loki. You were going to help him through this in any way you could and there was one more thing. You refilled the glass and downed its contents quickly, glad you could reach the bath tap without having to get up from the bathroom floor. You hadn’t gotten up again since you had first sat down and weren’t trusting your body to be able to anymore.

    “I do not want to be here for what, Lady?” Thor asked you firmly. You realized you hadn’t heard him the first time he’d asked.

    You shook your head to clear it. “Sorry. There’s… pack magic. I swear it’ll help,” you finally said. You couldn’t keep your thoughts focused on anything other than the task at hand. “Trust me, Thor. I want to save him as much as you do,”

    “It will not turn him into a wolf?” Thor finally asked, expressing his worry. No one wanted him to turn, but…

    You sighed heavily and looked up at him with tears in your eyes, the grief kicking back in since Thor had invited it. “He’s infected, Thor. There are only two outcomes. Either he dies, or turns,” you kept your words blunt, so your meaning could not be misinterpreted. One tear spilled from your eyes, another, before you wiped them away roughly with the back of one blood-crusted hand. You were a disgusting, injured, mess, but you weren’t going to leave Loki’s side until you were forced to, or you were sure he was going to make it through. “So let me do what I can to save him from death,”

    “Will it truly harm me if I stay?” he asked with such pain in his voice. He didn’t want to leave his brother in this state.

    You thought it over, but finally shook your head. “It won’t hurt you, but might not be…pleasant,” you finally said. He nodded.

    Thor came over and kissed the top of your head. “He loves you too, Lady Wolf. Do your magic. I will stand guard,”

    You nodded, accepting his decision to stay. “Thank you, for everything.” He gave another pained look to his brother, heartbroken to see Loki in such a state, before he took a couple of steps back, standing in the door way so he could watch you and for threats at the same time.

    You took Loki’s hand in yours, focused your mind not on the present, not on his wounds, but on your Loki and your love for him, your happiness with him, the fun times you’d had, the love in your life since you’d moved in with the Avengers.

    With love and peace in your heart, you began to sing.

[yourkeeperoftherunners]

Novice [1]

Plot: AU Your neighbor summoned a demon for a good time, except he somehow overshot things and landed in your apartment. (Despite the lack of a pentagram.) He keeps showing up and oddly, he makes it a point to stop by after he’s done with her.

Rating: PG-13 (Language, implied sex, incubus mythology)

Characters: Incubus!Jungkook x Older Female Reader, Riley OC, plus mention of other members.

Notes: I am not an expert on demonology. This was based off a comical dream I had about someone accidentally ending up in my apartment when in reality they were looking for someone else. (The figure in the dream wasn’t a demon per se but a rookie individual that wasn’t human who appeared in places without using the front door.) Eventually there will be a take on this plot with RM as the incubus – it will be a different universe from this one.

Please no reposting anywhere!

[2]

“HOLD THE ELEVATOR!”

You blinked as you looked up from checking your phone, pressing the button to hold the elevator doors open for whoever yelled. Once you saw the familiar face come into view, you were wishing you let them close on her.

“Fuck these are heavy!” your neighbor whined as she slipped in. She dumped the books onto the floor and rubbed her arms as the doors closed.

You snuck a peek at the book titles and frowned when you saw the subject matter. Now, you had planned to take this as a silent elevator trip up without any verbal exchange between you and your neighbor Riley, but the books piqued your interest.

“I didn’t know you were into demons and angels,” you offered.

Riley tore her gaze from the floor and nodded as she stacked the books neatly by her feet. A quick glance at her face told you that she must have finally stopped sobbing over her dumb ex. You didn’t know her very well or her ex, but when they broke up, the whole building seemed to know in one way or another. Perhaps you were being heartless, but you really thought the girl needed to grow up and refine her taste in partners. You had a gut feeling that the last boyfriend was into drugs or the mafia, judging on his appearance and how secretive he was with his phone.

“Have you seen how hot some of the demons are?” she asked. “I mean, no wonder they’re luring us with promises and deals! Hell, I’d fuck a group of them if I could!”

You only nodded, trying to keep your face neutral. You wished the elevator would go faster already – all you wanted was to cook dinner, take a shower, and relax. When the elevator made the ding sound, alerting you that you made it, you pressed the open button and held it open for Riley to haul her books out.

She collected them and walked out of the elevator without a thank you. You exited a few steps after her, rolling your eyes. Parent of Year Award to her folks for raising this hot mess of a young adult with no manners!

“Dating apps are so last year, so I was thinking, how can I get back into the game?” she babbled.

You muttered some kind of fake polite thing before grabbing your keys and inserting it into the door. You raised a hand to bid her goodnight, slamming the door shut before she could ramble more nonsense.

“Demons?! Is she okay? Does she need a counselor?!”

“She’s young and dumb Jin,” you grumbled as you tossed in some spices for your pasta sauce.

“Or maybe she’s possessed,” he shuddered on the other end. “That does it, I’m bringing a cross next time I visit you! She’s lost her mind!”

“Fine, bring your cross,” you sighed. “Jin, forget her. She’s a stupid brat who didn’t learn that romances will burn out if you don’t compromise with your partner. Not to mention she has no class – you should have seen how she walks past me with her old ritual books without a simple ‘Thanks’ cause I held the door. That’s the last time I ever hold the elevator for her.”

“I don’t know Y/N,” Jin murmured. “You’re not scared she’ll end up like that little girl in The Exorcist?”

“It’s not going to work whatever she’s planning,” you said. You paused when the lights overhead began to flicker and you turned off the stove.

The lights went from bright to a faint glow, then back to bright for a few times. Then everything went dark, which made you groan as you fumbled around for the emergency flashlight in your drawer.

“What was that?” Jin asked.

“Power outage,” you grumbled as you switched the light on. “It’s probably some idiot hitting the generator by accident – it happened a few weeks ago.”

You waited a few seconds before hearing the generator kick back in and your lights were restored in your apartment. “Yeah they just came back on. Hey, I need to go – gotta get the pasta going.”

“Okay, but just be safe,” Jin begged.

You hung up and turned the stove back on, placing a pot of water onto one of the burners. You put your phone down and leaned back against the counter, waiting for the water to boil.

You heard something that sounded like a poof and frowned as you strained your ears. At first you were prepared to dismiss it as nothing – probably the building showing its age. Then you heard a male voice murmuring something in a language you didn’t understand.

You straightened your shoulders, opened the closet near the entrance hall, and reached for the staff from your Halloween Rey costume, prepared to defend yourself. Unless your alarm went off thanks to the power outage, it sounded like someone was in your room.

You approached your door, pushing it open and the staff raised high. The light beside your nightstand was on, set to the dimmest setting. The lamp cast a soft light on the young man sprawled on your bed, making his flawless skin glow.

His eyes widened when he saw you in the doorway and his lips parted.

“…Whoa, you’re definitely not what I expected…I mean, wow!”

“Who are you exactly?” you demanded as you gripped the staff in your hands. “How did you get in here?”

The male pushed himself to a sitting position on your bed, tilting his head in amusement. His eyes fell on the staff and you noticed his eyes were an unusual shade of amber brown. “Are we roleplaying Riley-noona? I thought you summoned a demon for a good time.”

You raised a brow and began lowering the staff. Noona? What the heck?

“Um I don’t know what kind of dope you’re smoking, but I’m Y/N. If you’re looking for Riley, she’s a few doors down from me. By the way kid, you didn’t answer my question of how you got in here.”

His eyes widened and he looked around your room, before meeting your eyes. “You’re not…? Oh um, I guess, I guess that explains why there’s no pentagram on the floor?”

The bottom of the staff tapped the floor and you stared dumbfounded. Pentagram? Then you remembered Riley’s armful of weirdo books she had been lugging and it hit you.

Unbelievable, you thought. That little snowflake actually managed to get her psycho summoning crap to work! But why the Hell did he end up...?

Remembering the incubus asked you a question, you nodded and he winced, standing up and bowing his head in apology. The sheepish reaction and politeness threw you off – was this guy really an incubus? He struck you as being too polite, almost too innocent to be one. But Riley hadn’t been far off with saying that demons were capable of looking beautiful or innocent to lure in their victims.

You heard him mumble sorry to the floor and you dismissed it with a shrug of your shoulders. You propped the staff up against the adjacent wall and crossed your arms over your chest.

“Well you’re in the right vicinity – I’ll show you where she lives,” you sighed as you motioned for him to follow you. “We look nothing alike by the way – you’ll see that soon. She’s probably waiting for you to screw her brains out. Think she said something about a bad break-up?”

The incubus blew out a breath of air at that comment and shook his head. “That’s sad. I’m sorry I messed up, but thanks – I’ll leave you be Y/N.”

You held the door open for him and shrugged. “Don’t mention it. Question though, are you new to this whole summoning thing? Cause most of the time the others are spot on with their arrivals, or at least that’s what I’ve heard in theory.”

“Don’t say that out loud!” the incubus whined, jutting his lower lip out. “Okay, yeah this is a big one for me, but it’s a fluke! Everyone screws up the first time, right?”

“Sure kid,” you mumbled.

He pouted at the nickname and protested, “Hey, I’m not a kid! I’m 21 and my name is Jungkook!”

“Sorry Jungkook,” you replied. “Habit I guess, it happens when you get older.”

“Oh you’re older? How old?”

“Older than 21 that’s for damn sure,” you sighed. Your stomach growled and your patience was wearing thin. All you wanted to do was eat and never see this punk again. You were grateful you were further down the hall from Riley and didn’t have to suffer listening to her scream.

You began to close your door, leaving it open a crack for your arm. You gestured down the hall, noting that Riley was a few doors down.

The incubus stared at the door you pointed out and bowed, murmuring his thanks to you.

“Don’t mention it kid,” you muttered as you slammed the door shut.

[sshardassanderson]

One in the Same || Self-Para

WHERE: Clarington Prison

WHO: Darius Anderson & Bruce Anderson NPC (with mentions of Blaine Anderson & Sebrina Smythe)

WHEN: Friday, January 25th at 1PM

WHAT: Darius goes to have a talk with his father...or to try and convince himself that they are not the same.

WARNINGS: Possible triggers for blood and violence. Mentions of murder, attempted murder, acts of violence.

What the hell are you even going here for?

Swinging his leg over the end of his bike and putting the kickstand in place, Dare removed his helmet and lightly ruffled his fingers through his hair to fix the flatness. Under his breath, he cursed himself out for even considering showing up here, but there were so many things he needed answers to, and despite actively knowing he wouldn’t get them, he still drove the whatever odd miles to the correctional facility to demand them anyway. He hadn’t expected Bruce would even accept his visit, but the follow-up phone call came not even two hours later and Dare decided it was enough putting it off. No Blaine. No additional backup. Just a one on one with his old man, so that maybe he could just be done with this for once. So, after shoving his keys into his pocket and making his way toward the main entrance, Dare tried to forcibly not talk himself out of the visit with every step that brought him closer to the doorway. The closing of the various gates and doors behind him brought about that agonizing little itch that resurfaced in the darkest recesses of his mind.

This will be you someday. Only you won’t be going in the front.

Shut up.

He finally reached the front entrance where he was immediately practically assaulted by security, ordering him up against a wall for a thorough pat-down. Shoes off, socks off, toes to ankles, up along his jeans and lingering way too long for comfort between his legs, in his pockets, then wrenching off his jacket to examine sleeves and pockets as though he’d stitched in a hole to smuggle drugs or something of that nature. Dare couldn’t stop the “be careful with that, dammit!” when his Serpent jacket was violently shook left and right for anything loose that might fall out before he was wanded, then shoved through an additional security x-ray.

You sure you’re not being arrested?

I said shut up.

They know what you are. They know who you are and who you’re here to see. They know—

Dare’s jacket was returned, and he snatched it violently from the guard, stuffing his arms back inside and wrapping it around himself like a damn security jacket before he finally reached a middle-aged woman behind bulletproof glass. The only access to her was the dip in the front counter where Dare was required to slide his identification in order to receive a “GUEST” badge. He clipped it to the front of his shirt per instruction and was finally buzzed into another room where yet another guard was waiting with the most disgusted look on his face. In hindsight, coming in with his Serpent jacket on was probably not the smartest decision, but then again Dare never was one to think things completely through before he made a decision. And for the most part the hallways were clear – it’s not as though they’d be moving criminals in the same space that they would’ve moved guests.

They reached what almost resembled a high school cafeteria – just a litany of tables and such every which way, only every door had an armed officer, and there were no cliquey groups of people sitting with their lunch trays silently judging whatever table it was that you ended up at. It wasn’t empty though, various other prisoners meeting with family, friends…fuck buddies, whatever the case was. But Bruce was alone at a table, eyes deadlocked on Dare from across the room with that cold, piercing stare that made his insides churn. But as usual, he steeled himself against his father’s hold and made his way across the room to the table. Bruce was naturally shacked at the wrists and ankles, arms bound with a chain that extended maybe two or three inches, enough that he would be able to make vague gestures but not enough to wrap the links around his neck or anyone else’s. The ends were looped through grids in the table that bolted to the floor, so no chance of him wrenching free or trying to flip the table onto someone else in the room. His ankles, though bound, were not latched onto anything, but Bruce sat with both feet planted firmly on the ground.

He seemed almost tired – gaunt face, a few new bruises and scratches that really brought the color to his sharp hazel eyes. Nothing Dare hated more than sharing the same color. At least Blaine’s were almost gold, it helped to pull him out of his spiral when he needed something to latch onto. But here…he needed to purge Blaine from his thoughts otherwise his father could practically smell the weakness clinging to his eldest’s skin. Bruce appeared to be thinner too, as though he were on a hunger strike. He secretly hoped Bruce had been bullied and beaten in prison, food stolen, finally knowing what it would feel like to be starved. Of course, the forced sobriety couldn’t have helped his situation either, especially judging from the dark circles under his old man’s eyes. Calmly, Dare finally took his seat across the table, giving back the same deadlocked, unwavering stare that his father tried to penetrate his skin with. It was working, but Dare wouldn’t let on to the fact that he was this uncomfortable. He knew better now.

“Well…you look like shit.” Dare commented, Bruce still unblinking and disinterested in the comment. “Must suck to have people beating the shit out of you every—”

“—Are you still fucking your brother?”

Dare froze, but the retort wasn’t unexpected, and his composure returned a millisecond later. “I’m not here to talk about Blaine.”

“I’m not interested in anything else.” Bruce added flatly, leaning back.

“I don’t really give a shit what you’re interested in. I came here for answers, not for questions. So we’re not talking about him.”

“Him who?”

“You know who.”

“Blaine.”

Dare narrowed his eyes. “While I’m here, you’re not going to so much as breathe his name, do you understand me?”

“Is that what you think? That you get to come in here, new hotshot Serpent leader, and tell me what I’m allowed to do?”

“That’s exactly what I think. You left everything behind, and you left it in fucking ruins. So while I’m here, you get to answer to me for once.” Dare leaned closer, arms propped up on the table at his elbows. “I’m in charge now. The Platts are exiled, and the disaster of a situation you left behind for me to clean up after…I’m more disgusted with you now than I have ever been before.”

“That makes two of us.” Bruce replied as he leaned back in as well, their faces inches apart. “You think you’re hot shit now, boy. But you don’t know the first thing about being a leader.”

“I’ve done better than you ever have.”

“By who’s standards, Darius? Your friends? Those people haven’t seen what you’re fully capable of, have they? Have they seen how much you second guess yourself? Have they seen you lose control? Have they seen the way that you crumble and fold at anything that might injure Blaine?”

“I said don’t fucking say his name.” Dare growled. “What they’ve seen are results. They’ve seen their homes restored. They’ve seen people like you and the Platts driven the fuck out. They’ve seen the good that we can do and the—”

“—Good?” Bruce barked a laugh, spittle hitting Dare’s face in a way that made his skin crawl. “Nothing the Serpents have done could ever qualify as good.”

“Things have changed. We’re not just a band of fucking lowlife drug peddlers. It’s back to being what it should have been. And people are happy with the way things are.” Dare slammed his fist on the countertop. “I’m NOT here to explain myself to you!”

“You want to know…what? About why I did what I did to Sebrina Smythe?”

“Yes!”

“And you want to know why I was helping the father cover everything up?”

“I want—”

“Do you really even know what you want? Or did you just come down here so you could look me in the eye and say that you’re nothing like me?” A wry smile passed over Bruce’s lips, that same fucking condescending, smug ass look to his face that let twins know growing up that they were treading into very dangerous waters. Only now the old man was stark sober, and able to focus so fucking clearly. “I know your every button, son. And I know that whatever good you think you’re doing with the Serpents now is going to blow back in your face, and you will lose everything. You’re a pushover deep down, and you want to know why?”

“Shut up.”

“It’s because of your brother. He’s always held you back from your full potential. But when your mother left, she abandoned both of you to my care. And I’ll be honest…Blaine shouldn’t have survived it at all. I tried to make sure of that. Tossed him into a lake. Left him tied up in the closet for hours on end—”

“I said enough.” Dare’s fingers were clenched, knowing that Bruce was purposefully trying to get a rise out of him.

“—And yet you just had to make sure he survived. Gave up everything to make sure he was fed and tended to and had a good life. Is that why you’re fucking him, Darius? Because Blaine can’t even date correctly so you have to fill the role as his lover too?”

The corners of his eyes were practically bleeding red into his vision, and it was all he could do to keep the minimal amount of composure he had left in check before he lunged over the table and killed his old man. He tried to remind himself that Bruce had no power except his running mouth, and that’s exactly what he was doing. Manipulating. Darius was falling prey to it all over again, just like when he was a kid and his father took things just one step too far. Coming here was a mistake. Dare knew deep down there were never going to be any answers. But he wanted to look into his father’s face and know beyond a doubt that they were never the same. That the constant plague of nightmares paralleling the two men, of Dare engulfed in his father’s shadow and moving arms and legs like a puppet on strings were just that…nightmares.

But they weren’t.

He saw himself in the demise of Sebrina Smythe despite having nothing to do with it personally, even if an itch at the back of his head begged the question…Bruce had done this because he’d found out about the summer party. He’d known that Sebrina and Dare hooked up, and that maybe, just maybe, that fucking baby was his. He’d told no one of his suspicions, and it’s not as though Sebrina had reached out to him to let him know. So…maybe it wasn’t. She was bound to have slept with other people around that time. But then why would Bruce be so deeply involved as to help hide the body? These weren’t just nightmares. This was the cold reality.

Bruce’s voice penetrated his thoughts. “You know he came to see me too.”

“Who?”

“Kevin. He’s been worried about his son. Hasn’t seen him in week or so.”

“They were exiled,” Dare answered flatly. “Why should I give a shit where they are?”

Bruce’s shit-eating grin didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Just seems odd that Kevin Jr. would disappear out of the blue.”

“Not my fucking problem.” Dare replied through tightly gritted teeth. “I’m leaving.”

“He sneak up on you?” Bruce inquired before Dare could even stand, the grin never once leaving his face. “Make a pass at Blaine? Threaten you?”

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

“Does Blaine know? Do your friends know?”

“Know what?”

“What am I supposed to tell him when he visits next?”

“Nobody’s gonna come fucking visit you, old man.”

“Tell me what happened, son.” A condescending plea for understanding. But all too knowing of what the answer was without Dare saying a word. One in the same. “Tell me what he did.”

“Fuck off, Bruce.”

He might’ve had the leg up if he hadn’t tripped over an empty beer bottle that’d rolled out of the overflowing garbage can. Might’ve stood a chance at getting his hands around Dare’s neck. A flurry of fists and the complete destruction of his trailer. Blood splatters. Dare wrapping an extension cord three times around Junior’s neck until the grunting and choking subsided and nothing but a death rattle in its wake. His hands were still, even as he cleaned the evidence and wrapped the body up in a tarp. Stuck it in a truck, buried him in the damp earth from a recent, brief thaw that the ground was nothing but muck. Deeper and deeper, it never quite felt like enough. He dug so far down it became almost impossible to crawl out of the grave himself, and by morning he’d walled himself up against the entire ordeal. The body was dumped without remorse, then buried up again once more. Another freeze was expected in the next day or so. If it wasn’t found by then…

Dare blinked at his father and stood up from his seat. “Enjoy rotting in your prison cell forever, old man. Don’t expect another visit from me.”

“Whatever you think you know, whatever you think you may have that makes you superior to me, we’re the same, Darius. I knew it when you were a kid, and I know it now.” Bruce squared his shoulders. “Riverdale is Hell, Darius. We’re living in it. You’re living in it. And Blaine is living in it. Maybe one day when someone cuts Blaine out of your life for good, you’ll be able to reach your full—”

Darius leapt across the table and violently slammed Bruce’s face into the mesh metal with enough force to hear the crack in his face from the impact. He gripped what little amount of hair he could and repeated the action, head meeting table before he was wrenching his belt off and wrapping it around Bruce’s neck, strangling him while Bruce’s hands scrambled to try and break free. Unable to lift them more than an inch or two from the table, he was left flailing, kicking his legs out wildly as blood gushed down his face and Dare cut off his oxygen.

“You wanna go to Hell you miserable fuck?! THEN GO TO HELL!”

In some respect he knew that the guards had been on him from the second time he’d mashed Bruce’s face into the table, but it took the force of another two to wholly pull him off and break off the chokehold he’d fashioned with his belt. Unfortunately, it was enough to spare the man’s life, Bruce gasping for breath and spitting out a mouthful of blood onto the laminate floor. The guards wrestled Dare back far enough, shouting something about arresting him, being a “stupid fucking kid”, someone threatening to taser him if he didn’t calm down. Being a man that was hated in Riverdale meant that Dare was able to just be forcibly thrown out of the prison rather than arrested for assault and attempted murder like he absolutely should have been. But he guards merely dragged him out of the room without letting him even glance his father’s way again and bodily launched him back into the reception area before sealing the doors shut behind him.

Muttering profanities under his breath, Dare picked himself up off the ground and tossed the GUEST badge at the receptionist who passed back his ID with a disgusted leer. Dare stuck up his middle finger on his way out, stomping through the courtyard as he stuffed his steady hands back into his pockets.

One in the same.

[091820xx]

“ there must be punishment waiting at the gates of hell to welcome me “

           You’re woken up by Miles, or rather, The Walrider, shaking as gently as it can muster—which doesn’t say much. Miles drops a heavy box in front of where you lay in your bedroom. “Get up. There’s a package for you, Gramps.” (Your throat is too tight from waking up for you to argue that he’s a full three years older than you.) He apparently takes note of your expression, eyes cautiously squinted, and frown spread wide across your face. “Are you giving me that look because I called you Gramps or because you just woke up?”

           You clear your throat, propping yourself up on your arm. “Neither,” you start, brushing your hair out of your face with your free hand, “I just…” You trail off, momentarily. “I wasn’t expecting a package.” Your mind is racing trying to figure out where it could have come from. You don’t have enough friends online for a package. Lisa and the kids don’t know where you live. The most likely option is you drunkenly ordering something online.

           You roll out of bed, literally, making a loud thump as your body hits the ground. You can feel the eye roll Miles gives you. You instantly regret making that decision, rubbing your arm as you sit up. You idly run your hand along your arm, eyeing the package suspiciously. What catches your eye is the white paper taped to the top of the package. There’s no return address. It says your name. Your real name—Mr. Waylon Park—not the name you currently use while incognito.

           As if he was reading your mind, Miles asks, “One of your friends?” You aren’t sure, so you don’t respond. He probably wasn’t expecting you to anyway. For a second you consider that maybe it could be someone online… but then you have to think of who. No one likes you that much, and anyone who did wouldn’t make it a surprise gift.

          Without letting your eyes leave the box, you reach behind you, beneath your pillow, pulling out the knife you keep near you at night. Miles whistles, obviously impressed with your safety methods. You trace your fingers along one edge of the cardboard box, considering the size. Apparently, it was heavy, and it had to have been at least twenty pounds to have made the sound it did. There was something heavy inside, but whatever was in there wasn’t fragile. You imagine someone maliciously sending you things would want the contents to be in one piece when you receive it. It isn’t alive, that’s for sure, as nothing is moving. Synapses fire as you try to figure out something heavy that someone would send you.

          Miles interrupts your thought process as he clears his throat once again and shifts in place. He’s uncomfortable, nervous even, that’s obvious from his body language. “Is it a bomb?” You look up at him and shrug. He shakes his head and dismisses the thought. “Probably would’ve gone off by now.”

          “Someone knocked, right?” You ask. He nods. “Did you see anyone outside?” This time he shakes his head. Maybe it is a bomb, given how quickly the sender rushed off. While it’s not impossible, it’s improbable. Bombs are messy. Murkoff doesn’t like messy.

          Miles cants his head toward the knife that you forgot you’d been clutching. Your knuckles are turning white from the grip. Your hands are a little shaky, you must admit, as you sit up on your knees and stab the top of the package. Slowly, carefully, you cut through the tape. You drop the knife in front of you, and your hands are trembling as you lean forward and squeeze the sides of the box. Your heart is beating in your ears. Your mind is blank.

          Once again, Miles interrupts. “Do you need me to look inside it for you?” You turn your eyes to where he’s standing, and you notice several things. The Walrider is partially outside of Miles, smoky and probably the reason for you being so damn riled up. More importantly, though, you see Simon standing in the hall. His hands are balled into fists and you can tell he’s staring at the box. You can’t help but wonder where Paul is, if he’s close by, as on edge as everyone else is. You turn your attention back to Miles and shakily respond, “hey, Miles, you know you can’t go through other people’s mail. It’s illegal.” You force a smile, and he can tell.

          He doesn’t move from his spot, but the Walrider does, the specter moving a no more than an inch closer. You wonder if it knows what’s inside.

          After a full minute of complete stillness, besides the quick and uneven tempo of your heart, you open the box. Whatever is in the box is covered entirely by shredded papers. Atop of that, though, is a folded piece of white paper. Miles sees it, and finally, he kneels down with you. You see the Walrider tensing up. Simon is in the doorway, probably a reaction to Miles’ sudden movement.

          You take the folded note in your hands and suddenly the sensation is too much. You swear you can feel every microscopic dip in it, you hear the sound of your fingers pressed up against the paper. You unfold it with great haste and your brain refuses to process the words written on it. The penmanship is nice, but you don’t recognize the handwriting.

          Though your mouth is bone dry, though your heart is pounding, you read the note clearly and concisely. “We found you, Whistleblower.”

          Miles freezes, but you don’t. You toss the note to the side, and before you work up the courage to find out whatever gift they’ve given you, you take handfuls of the shredded paper and try to decipher the words written on the large pieces. You recognize several lines, several key phrases you’ve read time and time again when your boss tried to pound the rules into your head (among other things). Your contract. The contract you signed when you worked for Mount Massive. Scanned, copied, reprinted, and shredded. Your eyes finally begin to water as you toss the shreds away, taking handfuls and tossing them out of the box to get to the real content.

          You see the edge of a plastic bag. Your breath stops. You take the bag into your hands, lifting it. You hear Miles gasp, you hear Simon’s heavy footsteps coming close, but it’s hard to see anything through your tears. Your head feels heavy, it’s hard to think and process exactly what’s going on. It’s not easy for you to tell what’s inside the bag, there’s a mess of hair covering it and there’s blood pooled at the bottom of it.

          You recognize what you see, despite your brain’s best efforts to block it out. You remember reaching out and playing with that hair, curling your finger through it, turning your head in the morning with the sun shining through the curtains and being met with that curly mess of hair. What you’re holding in your hands, tossed haphazardly into a tightly sealed plastic bag, is the severed head of your wife. Upon further inspection, her eyes and tongue have been gouged out. Her teeth were removed, probably not in a humane way, if you could infer based on the conditions of Mount Massive.

          There’s screaming. It’s ear-piercing. You know you’re screaming, you know it’s just you, everyone else is dead silent. You don’t really know if there are words.

          You drop her head—as disrespectful as that sounds, you drop it back into the box. Your hands cover your own face, yanking the hair covering your face as everything starts flooding back. One particular phrase rings through your ears—Blaire’s favorite threat, the one he’d whisper right in your ear when he strangled you with your own tie, “if you tell anyone about this I’ll have your mouthy little wife’s head”. You always thought he was full of shit. You thought that was big talk, just trying to keep you quiet about everything that went down, about the experiments, about Trager, about your boss being killed, about him sneaking into your room at least five times a week. You thought it was completely out of the question when the Walrider tore him into pieces right before your eyes. How stupid of you, to think maybe this would all be over once you went into hiding, when your wife and kids ran from you to stay safe.

          You’re not screaming anymore, probably out of unconscious consideration for the other people in the house. You remove your hands from your face, eyes still pouring water and child-like sobs escaping your lips. You dig around in the box—there are two other plastic bags, from what you can feel. You don’t take them out, you don’t have to, you know that it’s your children. Peter and Dylan’s heads, severed, eyeless, toothless, tongueless, and they’re equally as dead as your wife.

          Unlike before, where your mind was completely blank, now it’s racing. How did they find you? How do they know? You’ve been relatively safe, you’ve been private, you’ve hardly even left your own house. You zero in on one particular person—Paul Marion. He lives in your basement. He lives with you. He was, or is?, a Murkoff employee. Was that story of his about his daughter being slaughtered a lie? Was he doing this to relate to you, show that he was as much of a family man as you? And you, the idiot, fell for it? Was Simon part of it, too?

             You feel numb. You immediately, thoughtlessly, instinctually, grab the knife you’d used to cut open the box and stand up. In complete honesty, you don’t remember how you got past the Walrider, past Miles, past Simon, down the stairs and to Paul. It’s all a blur, like you fast forwarded time.

          When your mind picks back up, you’re screaming again. Paul is face-up on the hard, concrete floor, you’re sitting on his stomach. The knife you’d kept on you for protection is now jammed deep into his thigh. Your knuckles are bloody, and your hands are shaking. There are tears on his face, but you aren’t entirely sure they’re his. He’s completely submissive, he hardly fought against your random and sudden assault. It takes you seeing the blood on your own hands before your arms go limp, and you’re silent. You suppose you closed and locked the door behind you when you came down here, as you hear the door being pounded on, but no one is inside the room and behind you. It’s just the two of you, sitting still in complete silence aside from the pounding of the door.

          You press your palms into the concrete, on either side of Paul, who is entirely too calm for your tastes. You want him to suffer, you wanted him to beg, apologize, you wanted him to feel bad for doing this to you, to Lisa, to Peter and Dylan. His submission only makes you feel guilty. Why do you feel the pain he should be feeling?

          You lean forward, your face no more than a foot from his. It’s hard for you to form sentences, you really aren’t in the right mind for any of this. “What did you do?” Your voice strains as you speak. He doesn’t answer. “Why did you do this to me? Why did you take everything…?” You trail off yet again, and finally break eye contact. Through your own unsteady breaths and the sound of Simon kicking in the door, you hear Paul speak.

          “They took everything from me, too, Park—”

          “Shut up,” you interrupt.

          He continues, calm, “Murkoff is corrupt. They know how to ruin lives.”

          You’re louder now, shouting, trying to drown him out, “Shut up!”

          “I’m not with them anymore,” he says, almost pleading, “I didn’t do this I would never — ”

          “Be quiet!” You punch the ground beside him, ignoring the obvious consequences of directly punching concrete with already-bloodied knuckles. Finally, Paul stops talking.

          You feel insulted. You feel disgusted. You feel sick. You don’t know what to feel, really, because you believe him. You know Murkoff will cut off anyone who stops being an asset to them, they use people up and toss them aside. Jeremy himself did it with his own best friend, Richard Trager, the one who tortured Miles. Paul had later learned that his old partner, a woman named Pauline, one you’d occasionally seen coming in every so often, had admitted Chris Walker. Paul had told you all about how he worked for Murkoff because they were keeping his daughter, Alice, alive, but when he started asking too many questions they disposed of her. You know it’s true. Your morals, your right mind, the angel on your shoulder is screaming that it’s not his fault. You know that Alice Marion, the poor little girl, was murdered in cold blood because one man got too curious.

          A part of you is screaming to tear Paul apart, because clearly, he is the reason this happened, he’s the reason they found and killed them, it’s Paul’s fault, it’s all his fault—but you know that’s not true. If anything, it’s your fault. You committed the ultimate sin, betraying your own coworkers, your boss, everyone. You tried to rat them out, and in turn, you’re the reason Miles and Billy died, you’re the reason Simon is a zombie, you’re the reason the Walrider is even freed. In some way, it’s your fault that Alice died—were it not for your whistleblowing, curious minds would not be so harshly punished. This is all your fault and now you’re paying the price.

          What a terrible, awful person you are. Maybe you really should have died in Mount Massive along with everyone else. At least it would partially make up for all of the innocent lives lost in there as well.

          Through sobs, you whisper, mostly to yourself, “I didn’t even get to say goodbye to them. I don’t know how long they’d been dead or kidnapped or…” Tortured. You don’t want to finish that thought. It makes your stomach turn, and you’re partly grateful this happened before you could stuff your stomach with food. “Why did this happen?”

          You feel something touch your shoulders but you’re too weak to fight back. You sit up, feeling rather limp as you turn your head to see Miles and Simon standing behind you. Suddenly, you notice now that you’ve momentarily calmed down, you start to feel the pain from when you rolled off the bed, and the pain from you yanking at your hair, and the pain from when your fist locked with Paul’s jaw about fifteen times, and the pain from when you stupidly punched the smooth, concrete floor, and you especially feel the pain from the heartbreak of holding your wife’s severed head in your hands.

          Miles walks by and lifts you with relative ease despite your comical size difference. He huffs out a sigh. You don’t know when you started apologizing profusely, but Paul waves it off with a too-accepting smile and Simon blocks Paul from your view. Miles begins leading you up the stairs and over his shoulder you watch Simon help Paul off the ground. What a terrible, awful person you are, hurting a helpless and kind man like that. You really should have died in Mount Massive.

          “Hey, Gramps,” Miles pipes up, trying to lighten the mood. “You sure can pack a punch when you feel like it. That’s gotta hurt, though, so how about we get you cleaned up?” You sigh, and nod your head, defeated by exhaustion.

          Once again, the onus is not on you. Once again, both Simon and Miles are left to clean up your messes. Do you ever learn?

[green-eyeddragonfanfiction]

A Night to Remember, Part 5: The Good, the Bad, and the Undead

Summary: It’s the spookiest time of the year, and you’ve been kidnapped by a psycho named Bucky Barnes who’s using as bait to lure your boyfriend, Steve Rogers, out into the open. You and Bucky have a plan, shitty as it may be. Pairing: Hunter!Bucky x Reader, Vampire!Steve x Reader.... Stucky? Maybe Stucky. Warnings: Language (as always), violence, blood... Stucky? I guess that should be a warning. Word Count: ~2,754 A/N: Campy Halloween title? Check. Not finishing this thing before Halloween? .... Check.

Masterlist // Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Steve dropped this time, large body hitting the floor with a resounding thud. Dark blood leaked from the four holes in his chest, staining the wooden floor a macabre red.

You looked from Steve’s still body to Bucky, horror clear on your face. His chest was heaving, gun clutched tightly in his hand by his side.

“What… Bucky… Why did you do that?” you whispered incredulously, tears forming in your eyes. Steve- Steve was-

Bucky was staring, gaze hard, at Steve’s body. “I just gave him what he deserved.”

“Did- did you-”

“No, I didn’t ‘kill’ him, though he’s technically already dead. I’d have to chop his head off or put one of these bullets through his skull or heart. I got close a few times, but he’ll wake up... Eventually,” Bucky said as he shoved his pistol in his belt.

He walked over to Steve’s lifeless body and nudged it with his foot, scoffing. He turned his attention to you after a moment, eyeing you suspiciously.

“Well, you’re not his thrall. Vamps can’t control people when they’re unconscious,” Bucky said matter-of-factly. “But I’m still a little worried you’ll try to attack me if I untie you,” he said, crossing his arms against his chest as he stared down his nose at you.

You gave him a disbelieving look. “Well now I know you were telling the truth and, if Steve was also telling the truth just now, I don’t want to sit here and become a Vampire’s main course!” you spat, glaring up at him.

“So you’re not going to try and stab me? Or shoot me?” he asked as though he was inquiring after your favorite type of soft drink.

“No,” you said, drawing the word out slowly and deliberately while you stared at him, gaze unwavering.

He shrugged and seemed to accept your answer because a half second later he pulled a wicked-looking knife from his belt and cut the zip ties that were securing your wrists and ankles. He untied the rope that had been binding your torso to the chair a second later and you finally took a deep breath, rubbing your tender wrists.

“C’mon, we’ll take him back to your place,” Bucky said, hoisting Steve up on his broad shoulders. “Grab my stuff. Car keys are in the side pocket,” he said, nodding his head towards the army green duffel under the table.

You stared at him, dumbfounded. “Why on earth would we take him back to my place?” you asked incredulously.

“Because it isn’t this dump,” Bucky said dismissively, already heading towards the door.

You stared after him for a moment before you scrambled into action, throwing all of the odds and ends of Bucky’s equipment into his bag. You hoisted it over your shoulder, grunting at the weight of it, and hastily followed him out of the house.

By the time you caught up with him, he’d already thrown Steve unceremoniously into the trunk.

He pointed to the bag as he unlocked his car. “Throw that in the back seat. How far away is your place?” he asked casually, as though there wasn’t a bullet-ridden unconscious vampire in his trunk, and he hadn’t just kidnapped you an hour ago.

You sighed as you threw the duffel in the backseat. To your dismay, the car bounced a little under its weight. 

“About twenty-five minutes from here,” you said as you closed the rear door and opened the front one. You hopped in the passenger seat, not bothering to close the rickety door gently.

“Hey, be careful. She’s delicate,” Bucky scolded, glaring at you from his spot in the driver’s seat.

“’She’?” you asked, raising a critical eyebrow at him.

“Yeah! Her name’s Baby!” he said defensively as he patted the hood affectionately.

You gave him a look that was a cross between utter confusion and condescending disbelief, but he didn’t seem to notice, as he was too busy coercing ‘Baby’ to start.

“Where to?” he asked, turning to look at you, steel blue eyes bright in the surrounding darkness.

You sighed, and began directing him towards your house.

Twenty-two-and-a-half minutes later, Bucky pulled into your driveway. You questioned if pulling directly up to your house was a good idea, but when he told you that you could carry Steve’s bloody unconscious body down the block instead, you quickly shut your mouth.

Just as Bucky opened the trunk and hefted Steve over his shoulder, a few kids came running down the street, decked out in costumes. You watched, petrified, as they spotted the three of you and made a beeline straight for you.

“Wow! That’s such a cool prop!” one said, reaching for Steve’s hand.

Bucky deftly maneuvered Steve out of the kid’s reach, making the act of tossing around a two hundred pound man look easy.

“Thanks, kid. I’m a special effects artist. Halloween’s kind of my thing,” he said, lying easily. He gave the kids a wink before he grabbed your hand and dragged you to your door before you could ruin his charade by looking every bit as guilty as you felt.

You fumbled for your keys, but the kids had luckily cleared out as soon as Bucky told them you’d be handing out sugar-free gum.

Once you got the door unlocked, Bucky brushed past you and threw Steve bodily onto the couch.

“You couldn’t let me put down towels first?” you asked haggardly, staring at your poor, now-bloodstained couch.

“Ah, my bad. I should have just kept carrying the two hundred pound man on my shoulder,” Bucky said snidely, plopping down on the loveseat across from your couch. “Nice place you got here,” he noted, glancing around the room with mock interest.

“Inherited it,” you said simply, taking a seat in the recliner.

“Parents?” he asked, looking back at you, interest sparking in his eyes.

“Yeah, they died a few years ago. Why?” you asked bluntly, not liking the way he was probing into your painful past.

“No friends?” he asked perceptively,

“No. Too busy. Does this insulting line of questioning have a point?” you asked, crossing your arms as you glared at him.

“Well you fit the MO for all the murdered women so far. Steve said it wasn’t him and if he’s telling the truth... there’s a good chance the real killer is out there waiting for a chance to get to you,” he reasoned as he leaned back in his seat.

You pulled your legs to your chest, glancing from Steve to Bucky and Back as you wrapped your arms around yourself. Bucky seemed content to let you think as he studied the first floor with a cautious eye.

“Is there more? What else is real?” you asked quietly.

His gaze snapped to you and his lips pressed together in a hard line as he thought about whether or not to answer your truthfully.

He let out a long sigh before he nodded. “Yeah, there’s more. Vampires, werewolves, genies, ghosts, all that freaky shit,” he said, watching you carefully for your reaction.

You were overloaded with the implications and simply nodded, too overwhelmed to feel anything yet.

“We need to get him restrained,” Bucky said, nodding his head towards Steve. “If I’m being honest, I want him to be telling the truth, but I know how Vamps work. I’m not taking any chances,” he said ominously, face shadowed.

“What do we need?” you asked, face set in determination.

By the time you got back from the nearby church, stolen holy water in hand, Bucky had tied Steve up and chained him to a support beam in your basement. Bucky hadn’t wanted you to go alone, but someone had to, and you had no idea how to hog tie a person.

He looked immensely relieved at your reappearance. You handed the bottle off to him and he set it on the table nearby, just within reach.

“Thanks, Doll,” he said quietly, eyes trained on Steve. “He should be wakin’ up soon. His wounds have all closed.”

“And then?” you asked, glancing worriedly between Bucky and Steve.

“He’s going to be hungry,” Bucky said darkly, scowling.

“Hungry...? You mean...?” you asked warily, already knowing the answer.

“Blood,” Bucky stated simply, turning his head to give you a long, hard look. “And here we are, fresh out of blood bags,” he joked.

“We could-”

“We’re not doin’ a grand hospital heist, Doll,” Bucky said, accurately guessing your train of thought. “Heads or tails?” he asked, pulling a quarter of his pocket.

“What do you mean, heads or tails? Don’t tell me-”

“It’s for who gets to be the snack bar for Stevie,” Bucky said, tilting his head to the vampire, who was just beginning to stir.

“You’re really going to let him suck me dry? Wasn’t the whole point of this to prevent that?” you asked incredulously.

“Well, it’s either you or me. I figured we might as well leave it to chance,” he said, shifting impatiently from foot to foot.

“What happened to chivalry?!” you asked frantically. Surely he couldn’t be seri-

“Feminism, Doll,” he said, raising his eyebrows challengingly.

You opened your mouth to object, but damn it he was right. You weren’t worth any more or less than him. At least if you were the snack bar he’d have a better chance at stopping Steve if he went too far.

You nodded, shoulders slumping in defeat.

“Call it,” he warned a half second before he flicked the quarter into the air.

“Heads!” you said quickly.

A second later Bucky caught it, and revealed it.

George Washington was gazing stoically back up at you and you jumped in relief. “Yes!” you said excitedly, throwing your arms in the air in celebration.

“Crap,” Bucky mumbled, glaring down at the quarter as though it had insulted him in every language known to man. “Alright, Doll. Listen closely, he’ll be awake soon. Take the bottle of Holy Water. If he goes too far or doesn’t let go, you empty that entire thing on his face, got it?” Bucky said as he shoved the quarter back into his pocket and rolled up one of his sleeves.

“Aye aye, Sergeant!” You said, giving him a cheesy salute as you grabbed the bottle of holy water and uncapped it.

“Please try to take this seriously. Vamps get real nasty if they’re-”

“Bucky,” came a weak voice from the other side of the room.

“-hungry,” Bucky finished, gaze slowly turning to Steve. You turned, too, and were shocked to Steve staring at the both of you with surprising intensity.

He was in full monster mode, eyes glowing and red, claws extended, fangs bared.

“(Y/N),” he whispered, gaze flicking to you. You felt the pull, then. You wanted to go to him, pull your collar down and let him-

“Focus, (Y/N),” Bucky said, pulling you from Steve’s mental grasp. “Don’t let him draw you in. I don’t think he has much control right now,” Bucky warned, turning back to Steve, whose attention had shifted back to him.

“Help me. Please, Buck,” Steve said quietly, voice smooth as silk. You weren’t sure if it was Bucky or Steve that made him move forward, but in the span a few breaths he was in front of Steve. You expected him to stop there and offer his wrist, but Bucky took another step closer. Close enough for-

Bucky tilted his neck to the side and in a flash Steve sunk his fangs into the side of Bucky’s neck, right above the junction of his shoulder. Bucky let out a pained gasp at the same moment Steve let out a moan of pure bliss.

You watched in rapt horror as Bucky’s hands fell onto Steve’s shoulders, holding onto him as though he was a drowning man at sea. Steve’s eyes had been closed at first, but they opened suddenly, locking directly onto you. You felt his pull again. It was telling you to come closer, too. Come closer and join in the pleasure... and the whimper that fell from Bucky’s lips almost convinced you; that definitely wasn’t a whine of pain; Bucky was enjoying himself.

All at once, your brain seemed to catch up with what was going on and you rushed forward in a panic. Bucky looked like he was about to pass out, and Steve showed no sign of stopping.

“Let him go, Steve!” you yelled, trying to tug Bucky from Steve... but Bucky was holding firmly to Steve’s shoulders. Hell, he’d even wrapped himself around Steve, pressing their bodies together.

“You’re killing him!” you warned, brandishing the bottle dangerously in his direction. A low, feral snarl ripped through Steve’s chest and fear coursed through your veins at the sound, but you stood your ground. “I’m sorry!” you yelled, dumping the entire bottle on his head.

Steve screeched and let go of Bucky both mentally and physically, skin hissing and smoking where the water touched it.

Bucky sagged to the ground and you quickly dragged him out of Steve’s reach, struggling because of how huge he was.

“Bucky? Bucky! Please tell me you’re awake!” you said frantically, shaking one of his shoulders as you held a hand over the two puncture wounds in his neck.

“’M fine,” Bucky mumbled, struggling to focus on your face.

“What- Did I-” Steve sputtered, apparently finally coming to his senses.

“Not right now Steve!” You said bitterly as you removed your shirt and shoved it against Bucky’s neck. It was a show of how out of it he was that he didn’t even mention the fact you were now in nothing but a bra.

“You. Hold this in place. I’ll be right back!” you said quickly, dashing upstairs for sugary food, water, and your med kit.

You ran back downstairs with your supplies and were relieved to see that Bucky was still conscious, clutching your shirt dutifully to his neck. It was already soaked with a worrying amount of blood, but you ignored the queasy feeling in your stomach. You needed to focus.

“You were supposed to offer him your wrist, idiot!” You hissed, giving him a swift slap on the chest.

“Ow. You’re hitting the half dead guy, but not the one who did the half-killing to him?” Bucky asked, words slurring together a bit.

“Shut up, sit up, eat this cookie, and drink some water,” you ordered as you began unpacking the med kit.

“Yes, ma’am,” Bucky said easily as he propped himself up against a box of your old things.

“Did I-”

“Shut up, Steve,” you hissed, throwing him a venomous glare.

Steve hung his head in shame; your answer had been enough. He’d hurt Bucky.

Bucky nibbled at his cookie slowly, keeping pressure to his wound with your shirt while he watched you work.

“You’re probably best off slappin’ some gauze over it once it stops bleedin’,” Bucky supplied, swapping the cookie for a sip of water.

“Thank you, Doctor Obvious,” you said scathingly.

You were in the middle of unwrapping a small mountain of gauze when his next words made you question your sanity. “I didn’t know it felt so good,” Bucky said offhandedly, the light pink blush on his cheeks especially pronounced because of how pale he was at the moment.

You stared at him, open-mouthed, in abject horror. “Dear lord, he’s gone insane,” you whispered.

“No, I just- Ugh, kill me. Just kill me,” Bucky groaned, covering his face with his hand in embarrassment.

“Buck, I’m sorr-”

Bucky held a finger out, cutting off Steve’s apology. “Nah! Nope! Shut up, punk! I don’t wanna hear it!” Bucky said crossly, refusing to look at Steve.

“Stop moving, or you’ll ruin all the progress you’ve made,” you said tersely as you eyed his neck.

Steve tried again. “I promise it won’t happ-”

“It better not,” you said dangerously, glancing at him malevolently.

“(Y/N), I-”

“You can apologize to me and Bucky once he’s not in danger of bleeding out in my basement,” you said angrily as you batted Bucky’s hand away from his neck, carefully peeling your shirt away so you could get a look at his wound. Seeing that it had stopped the worst of its bleeding, you quickly applied some gauze and taped the wound up, promising to disinfect it in a little while; you were sure you’d just set it bleeding again if you tried right then.

“Hey, Doll?” Bucky said weakly.

“What is it?” you asked worriedly.

“You’re still shirtless,” he said, grinning playfully at you.

Next Chapter

Strikethrough indicates uncooperative tags.

Marvel Taglist: @feelmyroarrrr @in-winchester-we-trust @breezy1415 @thewonderfulworldofafangirl @starkspangledbarnes @aligatorinavest @acacheofstrange @stilliwait @drakkatz @weenie-butt @badassbaker @4theluvofall @dani-si @lostinspace33 @aberrant-annie @lostinthoughtsandfeelings @sebstanchrisevanchickforever19 @fatalcrossbow @with-a-hint-of-pesto-aiolii @palaiasaurus64 @titty-teetee @verdonafrost @ek823 @sammyissassy @lovingcoldheart @lickmeinpublic

Bucky x Reader Taglist: @the-observant-fangirl @missrufflewaffles @epicbooklove @lucyvaughan-omg- @siriusleeblack @sophs-the-name @38leticia @timeladylaurel @kytty27 @santa-crew @nontimebomaladeusmeus @dragia @mlb4evah @hello-sweetie-get-the-salt

The Monster Series Taglist: @ipaintmelodies @d4rzill4 @axlesi @captainalinjastars @camambrosia @jasura @daybreakseventeen @fandoms-who @avocado-stocking​

[queen-scribbles]

Catching Up

@pillarspromptsweekly​ fill #12: Modern AU. Tavi and Khel super ran away with this one on me, but what else is new? Blah title, but it’s the best I could do.

The shower felt good.

Tavi leaned her forehead against the tiled wall and let the hot water run over sore muscles, bruises, and a couple ribs that felt more tender than they probably should. Maneha had been a good match today. She worked her mouth and spat toward the drain. Almost no red. Good, her split lip had finally stepped bleeding.

With a sigh, Tavi pushed away from the wall and actually finished washing her hair. She’d been just standing here for fifteen minutes, and she needed to give the hot water time to recover before Aloth got home tonight. After two weeks away and fourteen hours on a plane, she figured the only thing he might want more than a shower would be sleep. She smirked to herself as the last of the shampoo ran off and circled the drain. Sleep would probably top the list; Aloth had never been comfortable so much as dozing on planes. In which case, she  could go a few more minutes, see if she could get the knot in her right shoulder to loosen just a little more...

Before she knew it, a few minutes had turned into eight, and the water was turning from hot to tepid. “Whoops,” she muttered out loud as she turned it off, adding a silent prayer it recovered quickly. The only thing worse than cranky Aloth was cranky jet-lagged Aloth, though both were rare, and he always apologized profusely soon as his mood improved. (and really, who the fuck wasn’t cranky when they were jet-lagged?) 

Hopefully he’d want to sleep first, shower later and Tavi’s entire inner monologue would be moot. For now, though, she was getting chilly as the steam from the shower dissipated, so she reached for her towel. She’d only made it halfway through drying off and getting dressed when she heard the apartment door open and close. Tavi was in the middle of a frowning glance at the clock--His flight doesn’t get in for at least two hours--when she heard a familiar voice.

“Tav? You home?”

She rolled her eyes. It would be Khellin. Her brother was one of two people besides her and Aloth with keys to both the apartment and the building. Keys that were supposed to be for emergencies, or if she needed him to feed Quaro, but Khellin routinely used them when he came over for visits.

“Out in a minute!” she hollered, quickly yanking on sweatpants and a tank top. “Khel, what have I told you about texting before you show up at my fuckin’ door?”

“I did!” he protested, voice getting louder as she exited the bedroom. “You didn’t answer.” Enlightenment flashed in his green eyes as she reached the living room. “Ah. And now I know why. Your post-gym showers always take at least fifteen minutes. Longer if Maneha was on her game. Which I’m guessing she was, from the look of that shiner.”

Tavi winced and gently felt around her left eyes. “Shit, does it look that bad?”

“Yep.” Khellin grinned as he flopped on the couch.

“Great.” It was her own fault for not dodging quickly enough, but she still felt momentarily grumpy toward Maneha for being such a damn good shot. “So what’re you doin’ here? Didn’t you just get back from.... was it Readceras this time?”

Khellin shook his head. “That was a couple months ago. This was Ixamitl.”

“Whatever. My point is, why’re you here instead of Maia’s?” Tavi practically demanded as she perched on the arm of the couch.

“She doesn’t own me,” he joked. “We’re dating, not married.”

“Khel.”

“You left me a voicemail.” Khellin slid his phone from his pocket and spun it absently on the coffee table. “Said to call you when I got back into town.”

“Yeah, call me, Khel,” Tavi emphasized, arms crossed for good measure. “Not show up at my place unannounced instead instead of seein’ your fuckin’ girlfriend first.”

Khellin stared at her. “You left a fucking voicemail, Tav.”

“And?” she shrugged, arms still crossed. 

“You never leave voicemails. Ever. If I don’t answer, you text me. I was worried somethin’ was wrong with you or Aloth...” His eyes narrowed and he glanced around the apartment. “Speaking of... Where’d he go this time?”

Tavi sighed. “Damn, you’re good. Aedyr. Someone bought what they claim is ‘the definitive Concelhaut manuscript’ at--get this--an estate sale.”

“And since he’s something of an expert on Concelhaut--and cheaper than these snotty academics with five degrees--he got begged to come authenticate it?” Khellin guessed, running his fingers through his hair. 

“More or less,” Tavi nodded. “Two degrees is much more affordable than five. He’s been there two weeks ‘cause they pulled the ‘Oh, while you’re here, can you look a these other books too...’ bullshit an’ he’s s’pposed to get home tonight...”

“Aw, does someone miss her boyfriend?” he said teasingly.

“Nope,” she deadpanned, biting back a smile.

“You’re full of shit, sis,” Khellin shot back, stuffing his phone back in his pocket. “Kana picked me up from the airport cuz Maia’s workin’ a double today--’nother reason I didn’t go see her first--an’ he said you were super mopey during your shift last night.”

“Please, he was in for one drink,” Tavi said, rolling her eyes. “Twenty minutes, tops. He just wanted to vent about the fuckin’ school plannin’ to cut the music and arts budget to practically nothin’, and I can’t blame him. He’s poured his heart and soul into that job and those kids for three years. I’d be pissed as hell. He just got a little melancholy an’ slightly more rambly than usual. I could barely get two words in edgewise, so how the fuck could he tell if I was mopey?”

Khellin shot her a ‘you’re kidding, right?’ look. “Tav. He’s your best friend. He can read you better than anyone other than me an’ Aloth. Bringing us back to my point that you miss your boyfriend.”

“No,” Tavi insisted, arms wrapping tighter in a self hug. “I don’t miss my boyfriend.” Gods, she hoped her eyes weren’t giving anything away.

If they were, Khellin missed it. “Tavi-”

“I miss my fiancé.” She held up her hand and wiggled her fingers, smirking triumphantly. Oh, was it ever worth how long she’d been sitting on that news to get to watch her brother’s jaw hit the floor.

“Holy shit...” Khellin blinked a few times and kept staring at her hand. “Holy fucking hell.” His gaze shifted to her face (which was plastered with the mother of all shit-eating grins) and he glowered half-heartedly. “You dick. You’ve been sitting on that for two weeks without telling me?!”

“Not my fault you were in the middle of nowhere for a month with shitty cell coverage. Also, I wanted to tell you in person so I could see your face, and Hylea’s tits was it worth it,” she said, all but gloating as she spun the ring around heer finger so he could see the scrollwork engraving. Between her job and her favorite hobbies, something with a stone would have been a bad idea, which Aloth had taken into account and compromised for accordingly.

“Dick,” Khellin repeated, tossing a throw pillow at her.

“Thanks, bro,” Tavi laughed, catching the pillow and hugging it to her stomach. 

“One thing I gotta know--and don’t let the fact I have money riding on this affect your answer--who asked who?”

Tavi winged the pillow back at him. “We’re gonna circle back around to the fact you all were bettin’ on me an’ Aloth’s love life, but, uh, he asked me.”

“Dammit!”

She grinned. “Sorry, Khel.”

“No you’re not,” he groused, slumping low enough to put his feet up on the coffee table.

“You’re right, I’m not, and get your damn feet off my coffee table. Gods, who raised you?”

“You did,” Khellin snarked, dropping his feet back to the floor.

“Oh, yeah, that’s right,” Tavi deadpanned. She slid from the arm of the couch down to sit next to him. “Seriously, though, Khellin, you’re okay with this?”

“Shit, yes,” he said emphatically. “I’m gonna tell you something I told Aloth, like, a year ago; your happiness is very important to me, Tavi. And even if I never in a million years woulda pegged a prissy academic as your type-”

“He’s not prissy!” Tavi protested, giggling but indignant as she whacked him with the throw pillow again.

“He’s a little prissy, Tav. But he’s also a cool guy, and he was smart enough to fall in love with you, and he makes you smile like the sun is bottled behind your eyes. So even if I’m now out a hundred bucks, I’m very, very happy for you.”

“Thanks.” Tavi grinned and pulled him into a hug. “Hundred bucks, huh?”

“Uh-huh. Fifty each to Maia and Sagani.”

“Ouch.” She chuckled as she sat back, propping her elbow against the back of the couch and resting her head against her hand. “Does it make things better or worse if I admit that if Aloth hadn’t proposed before he left on this trip, I was gonna ask him when he got back?”

“Worse,” Khellin groaned. “So, so much worse.”

“Then forget I said anything.” Tavi pushed to her feet. “You want a beer?”

“Galawain’s teeth, yes. And a real one, none of that lite crap you keep around for Kana.”

“Got it.” She started toward the kitchen. “And  then you can tell me about your trip.”

“Yeah, because tracking a lion pride’s dietary habits is any sort of match for you getting engaged after five years,” Khellin said wryly.

“Wild animals are always interesting,” Tavi retorted. She grabbed a beer and returned to the living room. “And I like hearing about how your internship’s going. Fills me with motherly pride.”

Khellin snorted as he took the beer. “Glad I made you proud, Mom. You’re not gonna have one?”

She shook her head. “Aloth’s flight gets in in a couple hours, and I have to drive to the airport to pick him up. No alcohol for me.”

“Oh, look who’s being a goody two-shoes for once,” Khellin teased.

“I work at a bar, Khel,” Tavi said dryly. “I’ve swiped the keys of way too many people who were drunker’n they thought they were. I’m not takin’ any chances myself. Now. Trip. Lions. Talk.”

“Alright, alright,” he laughed, and spent the next hour telling her all about it.

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

Notes this time, first and foremost that I know we know next to nothing about Maia, but seriously, if she’s the least bit open to dating dudes, I’m going for it with Khellin. So that’s me crossing my fingers and hoping. Also, I was only planning to have Tavi and Aloth be in an established relationship. The ‘btdubs we’re engaged :D’ was all her. Khellin teased her about missing her boyfriend and she went “HEY MOM, KNOW WHAT WOULD BE GREAT?” and I loved it so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[pedroscurls]

Title: Now, What Do We Have Here?

@laymetorest77​ requested: Hey there! Would it be too much trouble to request a smutty (as fuck) one-shot of Simon & Negan walking in on the reader masturbating, then it leads to a (possible) 3-some?

Character(s): Negan, Reader, Simon  Summary: You have been living in the Sanctuary for two months now and neither men showed any interest towards you. Though, it is a good thing that you’ve got a vivid imagination and after a long day at work, you decide to let out some steam. Word Count: 3,979 Warning: SMUT! LIKE TONS OF SMUT! DIRTY TALK, TOO!  Author’s Note: Okay, I’ll take any reason to write more of Negan x Reader x Simon stories. So, thank you @laymetorest77 for requesting this! I hope it was okay, and very very smutty ;-)

(GIF Source: @justnegan || @heartfulloffandoms)

You have been at the Sanctuary for two months now. You thought stumbling upon Negan and his men were going to be the worst decision that you made, but after adjusting to the point system and the job that was assigned to you, you started to like it in this community. You knew you could finally call this place home, which was something that had become nonexistent in this new world.

Aside from the quick adjustment, you were obviously attracted to both Negan and Simon. The way they both exuded power and confidence made you constantly wonder how they would be like in the bedroom.

But, they were the two top men in the Sanctuary and the chances of you ever getting together with one of them was highly unlikely. Still, though, you enjoyed watching them work. Negan always sported the leather jacket and his bat was always propped over his shoulder. Simon, on the other hand, seemed to always wear button down shirts that clung to his muscles.

You always got excited when you caught a glimpse of them in the cafeteria; they never visited the library anyway.

When Negan gave you the job as a librarian, you were hoping he would make some sort of dirty comment about having some odd fantasy of fucking a librarian, but you knew he wasn’t interested when he just left the room to let you work. You wondered if it was because you weren’t pretty enough.

Simon, though, you didn’t understand why he never made his move. You found him constantly glancing in your direction whenever he was eating in the cafeteria. You wondered why he never uttered a single word to you aside from the first few days of your stay at the Sanctuary.

Today, however, was a slow day at the library. Not many people liked to come here. Since the world ended, books became an afterthought and no one ever decided to pick up a book to read while the dead was walking. Though, you enjoyed the few people – which were kids – that liked to visit. It made your day much more exciting and worthwhile when the kids were laughing and smiling when you read to them.

It reminded you that there was still innocence and beauty in this world.

Before lunch, you had read to a group of kids. You were reading Hamlet, but made sure to speak in a way that they understood what was going on. You were surprised to see that this book by Shakespeare were on the shelves.

When it was time to go to the cafeteria, you closed the door to the library and locked it behind you. You pocketed the key and walked to the lunchroom, noticing many people standing in line while others were already beginning to eat. It always surprised you to see how many people were living here.

It gave you hope that the old world could be restored.

Once you received your tray of food in exchange for some of your points, you sat at one of the empty tables. You looked around, and suddenly your eyes caught Negan and Simon. They seemed like they were talking amongst one another; it must have been a serious conversation from the lack of smiling and laughter.

You kept your eyes on them, watching as both men ate. You let your eyes trail over the stubble that littered Negan’s face, tinged with streaks of grey. Simon had this ridiculous mustache that only he was able to pull off. You began to wonder what it would feel like between your legs.

Sighing, you shook your head and continued to eat your own food. You couldn’t get the image of both men sitting next to one another out of your mind. It was as if they were torturing you because the only men you were even remotely interested in were not interested in you.

Or, so you thought.

Negan and Simon both looked up. They caught your eye and furrowed a brow when you immediately looked away as if you were caught staring. Negan smirked, wiping his lips with a napkin before he rested his hand on the end of Lucille.

“[Y/N] staring at us, again?” Negan asked.

Simon chuckled, “She is. When are we going to stop teasing her? We both know she’s beautiful.”

“I’m waiting for her to make the move. She’s taking her time apparently. I mean, two fuckin’ months and she hasn’t said a damn thing?”

“What do you want her to say? I mean, we haven’t necessarily shown that we’re interested,” Simon argued.

“When we found her, she was scared. Hell, she couldn’t even look at us, Simon. What the hell did you want to do?”

“Okay, okay. I get your point.”

“Plus, I’ve got an idea that we can put into effect tonight. We can drop by her room, make sure she’s settling in nicely… She hasn’t spoken to us alone yet, so I’m sure she’ll let a few things slip,” Negan suggested.

“What makes you so sure?”

“I know women. I thought that was fuckin’ obvious,” he smirked.

Simon rolled his eyes, “You’re chasing another piece of pussy when you’ve got five at your disposal. I don’t get you, Negan.”

“Why have one when you can have multiple?” Negan chuckled.

“Yeah, yeah. Lucky bastard. But just so we’re clear, [Y/N] is both ours. Not yours. Not mine. Ours.”

Negan arched a brow, “I fuckin’ know, Simon. Besides, what if she decides she only wants me?”

“Not a fuckin’ chance. I saw the way she was looking at me,” Simon replied.

“All right, Simon. We’ll see.”

Later that night, you finally closed the library. It was such a slow and tiring day that you needed to let out some steam. You knew exactly what you were going to do once you made it back to your bedroom. Seeing Negan and Simon in the lunchroom today was enough for you to imagine what it would be like if they were interested in you.

You walked into your room and shut the door behind you. You grabbed your towel and walked inside the connected bathroom. You knew you weren’t able to take a long, refreshing bath like you were used to in the old world, but you didn’t complain.

You stepped into the shower once the water was warm enough, shutting your eyes once it hit your body. You tossed your head back and allowed the water to dampen your locks, bringing your hands to run through it.

You finished your shower within ten minutes, especially since Negan instilled the rule that showers weren’t supposed to last longer than that. Afterwards, you wrapped your dampened hair into your towel and slipped on a pair of cotton panties and a large white t-shirt that reached your upper thighs.

You settled into your bed and exhaled a contented sigh. Every night, you reveled in the fact that you had a place to sleep, a bed to lie on, and four walls to protect you from the outside world.

You shut your eyes and imagined Negan and Simon waltzing into your bedroom to show you just how badly they wanted you. You imagined Negan’s scruff in between legs and Simon’s large hands caressing your body.

At that image, you dropped your hand in between your legs. Your finger ran along your clothed sex, whimpering at the contact as you continued to imagine Negan and Simon.

Slowly, you lowered your panties and set it aside. You circled your clit slowly, wondering just exactly how Negan and Simon would take you. You imagined that their manhood would be well-endowed and pushing into you would be slightly painful, but overall pleasurable.

You slid your finger into your walls and gasped, moaning quietly at the intrusion. You used your other hand to grasp onto your breast, Negan and Simon being the main center of your imagination.

“Negan…” you moaned, tossing your head back.

“Simon…” you added.

Negan and Simon began to walk to your room. They wondered what they would say to you, but as they neared the door, they heard your quiet moans.

“Wait, what if she already has someone?” Simon asked.

“Do you hear anyone else but her in that damn room, Simon? Come on.” Negan smirked, hearing the moans and your quiet utterances of Negan and Simon’s name. “You hear that? She’s probably fuckin’ touching herself at the thought of us.”

Simon smiled, hearing his name escape your lips. “Should we knock?”

“Let’s indulge in a bit of voyeurism, shall we?” Negan smirked.

Slowly, Negan opened the door and caught a glimpse of you touching yourself. He bit his lower lip, using one hand to run over the front of his pants, palming himself. “Well, I’ll be damned…”

Simon looked over Negan’s shoulder, widening his eyes at the sight.

You moved your finger in and out of your depths, continuing to moan Negan and Simon’s name as your other hand caressed your own breast. Your eyes were shut and you were stuck in your own imagination to realize that Simon and Negan had stepped inside of your room.

Negan let his eyes rake over your body, focusing on your hand that was in between your legs. Suddenly, he cleared his throat to let you know of his and Simon’s presence in the room. You opened your eyes and gasped, scurrying to grab your pillow to cover your lower half.

“W – What?” you mumbled,

“Having a bit of fun after a long day at work, doll?” Negan smirked.

“I – I just…”

“Just what? Touching yourself?” Simon interrupted.

“Well, yes, but –”

“Oh, [Y/N]…” Negan grinned.

You widened your eyes in surprise, “You – You know my name?”

“Of course we do. You’re too beautiful to just forget,” Simon smiled.

You blushed, sneakily grabbing your panties to slip back on before Negan shook his head. He reached out, resting a hand over your own before he took the panties away from your grasp. He looked down at the fabric and smirked, pocketing your panties before he slowly pulled away the pillow that was covering you.

“So, tell me, [Y/N]… How have you adjusted to the Sanctuary?” he asked, running his fingertips along your bare legs.

“I – It’s good… Thank you for taking me in,” you smiled, shivering at the feel of his hands finally touching you.

Simon sat next to you, looking down at you with a smile on his face. “You always sleep in this attire?”

“Sometimes I sleep naked,” you teased.

Negan arched a brow, “She’s fuckin’ with us.”

You giggled, nodding in agreement. Though, your laughter died down instantly when you felt Negan’s finger run along the length of your sex. You slowly tossed your head back, spreading your legs for Negan to continue.

“She’s soaked, Simon…” Negan commented, looking at you with lustful eyes. He removed his leather jacket, setting it aside and kneeling down before you. He leaned down and smirked from between your legs, kissing your inner thighs lightly.

“Have you imagined what it’d be like if this shit happened, doll?” Negan asked, his lips inching closer to your sex.

“Y – Yes, oh god, Negan… Please…”

“You see that Simon? I didn’t even have to ask her to say please. This girl’s got manners. I think we should reward her. What do you think?”

Simon nodded, leaning over to cup your cheek gently. You turned your head to face him, noticing that he was inching closer for your lips to touch. “I think we should. She seems like she’d be a good girl. Right, [Y/N]?”

“Yes… I’ll be good…”

Simon smiled, leaning in to press his lips against your own. You gasped, allowing yourself to succumb to the pleasure. You never thought your fantasies would come true, but here you were.

You suddenly pulled away from the kiss when you felt Negan’s lips finally attach to your clit. You tossed your head back and grasped the bedsheets tightly, your toes curling. You tried to squeeze your legs together before Negan shook his head, holding your legs apart with his strong hands.

“No, no, doll… Let me fuckin’ eat this sweet pussy,” Negan smirked.

“Just lie back and relax,” Simon said, his lips running over your jawline lightly.

You nodded, grabbing the end of your large t-shirt. You pulled it over your head to reveal your bare upper half and you tossed it aside carelessly. Simon grunted at the sight of you, moving his fingertips along your chest, circling your nipple teasingly.

“God fucking dammit,” you mumbled, arching your back at the feel of Negan’s lips attaching to your clit. You shivered at the pleasure that raked through your body. Before the end of the world, you would have never divulged in a threesome with two other men, but with Negan and Simon… You were willing to do things you never thought you would do.

Your hand dropped to Simon’s lap, feeling his growing erection from inside his pants. You could feel the thickness and you gasped, looking down when Simon latched his lips onto your nipple.

“Oh my god…” you moaned, feeling Negan continue to suck onto your clit as he used two fingers to slide into your depths. “Please…”

Negan smirked, adding more pressure to your clit as he moved his fingers rapidly inside of you. You could feel yourself near your climax, and with the added pleasure that Simon was giving you, you knew that you were going to finally reach an orgasm that you couldn’t have done by yourself.

“Fuck!” you moaned loudly, your walls clenching around Negan’s fingers as you finally hit your release. Your body shook slightly, wanting to shut your legs but Negan held them apart. You tried to recompose yourself, panting heavily at the intensity of your climax.

Simon smirked, pulling back to remove his shirt and undo his pants. You looked over at him, slowly straddling his waist to kiss along his exposed chest and down to his abdomen. You let your fingertips run across the chiseled muscles before undoing his belt buckle and unzipping his pants.

“No no… I just made you fuckin’ come, and you’re going to pay attention to Simon?” Negan said, gently pulling you from your bed. “On your knees, [Y/N].”

You grinned at his assertiveness, kneeling in front of him. Simon stood up, shrugging off his shirt before he pushed down his pants and boxers to reveal himself. You cleared your throat at the sight of his length.

Negan removed his white t-shirt and pushed his pants down to his ankles, kicking it to the side. You glanced up at him, reaching out to wrap your hand around his girth, licking your lips. You were right. Both men were well-endowed and you couldn’t wait until they were inside of you.

“Your fuckin’ touch feels amazing,” Negan smirked, using a hand to stroke your hair back. You reached over with your free hand to wrap around Simon, slowly stroking both men. Their sounds of pleasure made you squeeze your legs, which did not go unnoticed by the both of them.

“Mm, doll, how about you get us ready before we fuck you?” Negan smirked.

You bit your lower lip. You always loved the dirty talk in the bedroom. Slowly, you leaned forward to wrap your lips around Negan’s rounded tip. You shut your eyes and began to bob your head, simply wanting to speed this process to feel them within your depths.

As you bobbed your head against Negan, you stroked Simon’s length. Your saliva lubricated Negan’s manhood before you pulled away to pay attention to Simon as well.

“Shit, doll…” Negan said, watching you move your lips along Simon’s length.

Simon tossed his head back slightly, shutting his eyes as he held your hair away from your face. You leaned forward, allowing his tip to hit your throat, causing you to gag on his dick. You pulled back, standing up and running your hand down your abdomen.

“You look like you’re ready for us,” Simon smiled.

“I am… I’ve been waiting for this moment.”

“Oh, have you?” Negan grinned. “How about you tell us exactly what you want, doll?”

“How about I show you?”

Simon smirked, “God, we’re going to like you.”

Negan smiled, nodding. “All right, doll. Show us.”

“Well, first… I want to ride you, Negan.” you whispered, slowly pushing on Negan’s shoulders so he would fall back onto the bed. You watched as he propped himself on his elbows, his dick resting against his abdomen in full erect. You straddled his waist, holding his member to align against your entrance.

You ran his tip across your wet length, watching as Negan shut his eyes in anticipation. “If you don’t stop this fuckin’ teasing, I will slam into you and I’ll be sure to fuck you until you cannot walk anymore, [Y/N].”

“Mm, that sounds very tempting.”

“Fuck it.” Negan grasped your hips and slammed upwards into you, bringing your hips down so that you felt every inch of his dick. “Holy fuck…”

You gasped, arching your back at the sudden intrusion. You rested your hands on his chest, remaining still for a moment to allow yourself to adjust to him. This was so much better than your imagination.

You began to bounce along Negan’s length, gasping every time he thrusted upwards. You shut your eyes and buried your face against Negan’s neck, rolling your hips rapidly against his own before a sudden climax hit your body. You clamped down onto his manhood and he groaned, rolling you onto your back before he pulled out of you.

“Shit, already?” Negan smirked. “Don’t worry, doll. I’m not fuckin’ done with you yet.”

You nodded, panting heavily. Before you could process what he was going to do next, Simon took you by surprise when you slid into your depths. Unlike Negan, he made sure to take his time. He ran his hand across your abdomen and up to your breast, grabbing it gently as he slowly began to move in a rhythmic pace.

Negan kneeled next to your head and you looked up at him to see that he was stroking himself in front of you. You leaned your head over in his direction and wrapped your lips around his tip. He groaned, shutting his eyes as he stroked his base while you paid attention to his head.

Simon smirked to himself, delivering a sharp thrust that caused you to pull away from Negan to let a loud moan escape your lips.

“Please, Simon… Harder…” you begged.

“Harder? Oh, you’ll get it harder all right,” Simon winked.

Suddenly, he grasped your hips and slammed into you repeatedly. With every thrust, you felt him all the way up to your abdomen, causing you to gasp with each movement. You knew you wouldn’t be able to walk tomorrow morning, but it didn’t matter. You had fantasized about both men and now it was finally happening.

“Simon… Oh god…” you moaned, moving your hands to the bedsheets and grasping onto it tightly.

Without any warning, you tightened around him, reaching yet another climax. Your body shook slightly, causing Simon to slam into your, remaining still as he placed light kisses along your collarbone. “Damn it, you are tight…”

Simon pulled out and watched you with a smile, running his hand down the front of your body.

Negan suddenly turned you around, hoisting you up onto all fours as he took his position behind you. He grasped his dick and ran his tip along your soaking heat before thrusting into you slowly. You groaned loudly, moving a hand back to his abdomen to slightly push him away.

“I can’t… I can’t anymore,” you moaned, feeling Negan take your hand to hold it behind your back.

“Mm, oh, you can, doll… You’re still wet,” he whispered into your ear. “I promise… I’ll go slow.”

You couldn’t argue. He felt too good for you to deny yourself the pleasure. Besides, if this was a one-time occurrence, you would jump out of your comfort zone in order to fulfill all of your fantasies.

Simon kneeled in front of you, running his thumb across your cheek. You looked up at him and noticed that his member was still erect. Both men were ready to release and so, you leaned forward to wrap your lips around Simon while Negan continued his slow thrusts.

“That feel good, doll?” Negan asked, looking up at you to see that your mouth was around Simon. “Oh, how rude of me… You’ve got a mouthful.”

Simon groaned, holding your hair back away from your face. He slowly thrusted into your mouth, urging you to take more of his length.

Negan held onto your hips, his own coming in contact with your own. He made sure to push into you until he couldn’t any further. He felt so deep and so good within your depths that you never wanted him to leave.

“All right, [Y/N]… Fuck, hold onto something tight. I’m about to fuck you until you can’t walk any longer,” Negan warned.

You pulled away from Simon to look over your shoulder at Negan. You licked your lips slowly and replied, “Mm, after three orgasms, I’m sure I’ll be bedridden for the next couple of days.”

Negan chuckled, “I think Simon and I are going to keep you, [Y/N].”

You grinned excitedly, “My body is yours.”

Simon growled, “Fuck yes, we are keeping you.”

Negan began his assault on your core with his hips slapping against yours rapidly. You moaned loudly, grasping onto the bedsheets once more before Simon slipped himself back into your mouth.

You could feel yourself slowly begin to reach your next orgasm, but you forced yourself to hold it. You needed to give these two men the release they needed. You began to bob your head against Simon as Negan continued to his rapid thrusts.

You pulled back and nodded towards Simon, allowing him to thrust into your mouth. After your permission, Simon began to thrust his hips into you. He kept in mind to not be too rough with you, but it was becoming increasingly difficult when he felt his release creep up along him.

“Oh shit, [Y/N]…” Simon muttered, feeling his tip repeatedly hit your throat. When he felt the sudden tightness contract around his tip, he pulled back just slightly and released into your mouth.

Negan watched which urged him to move faster. “Swallow,” he instructed.

Immediately, you obliged and pulled away from Simon to look at him with a smile. You moaned, feeling Negan’s length repeatedly move in and out of your depths.

“I – I was going to swallow anyway,” you argued.

Negan narrowed his eyes, slapping your backside with an opened hand. You gasped, the sudden sting causing your walls to tighten around his length abruptly. Negan growled, repeatedly slamming into you before he pulled out to release onto your lower back.

“Fuck,” he grunted, stroking himself a few more times before he sat back against the bed. Negan reached for your t-shirt and carefully wiped his release off your back before tossing the shirt back onto the floor.

You turned to lie down on your back, shutting your eyes and smiling to yourself. You felt like you could sleep forever after what just transpired.

“That was…” you mumbled.

“Good? Fuck yes, it was good. More than good, actually. It was fuckin’ great.” Negan finished.

Simon smirked, “We’re going to have to do that again.”

Negan nodded, “I agree. You belong to us now, doll.”

“I thought I already belonged to you, Negan.”

“You see, you’re going to make me fuckin’ hard again, [Y/N].”

You giggled, leaning over to kiss his cheek. “Well, I wouldn’t mind going another round,” you winked.

Simon grunted, “You’re going to be the death of us.”

[khymer-vulture]

Iiiittt’‘ssss June 10th! You know what that means!

It’s Rachel Gardner’s birthday!

There’s a theme for the 60 minute challenge in the Discord, the theme is Summer. Ray’s birthday is also in the summer, why not both? :D

Set in between Covering Our Tracks and Captivate

Summer, the most sweltering time of the year.

 It sucks, not only was it hot, but it seemed almost every place Zack and Ray came across, it was filled with people. From the obnoxious behavior of each individual, it was all mostly tourists, visiting new places for a change of scenery during the season. God, they got on Zack’s nerves. Ray would softly sigh as she placed a hand on top of Zack’s to help him erase the need to use his scythe. Sure, she found them annoying too, but cutting them down indiscriminately would draw too much attention.

 Zack was hot and frustrated and needed a damn place to cool his head, he had tried everything to keep himself from overheating without making himself look like a huge target. Taking away his hoodie was out of the question, and he refused to roll up the sleeves, but he was fine with unzipping it. Zack didn’t argue too much about having his pant legs rolled up, Ray eventually came to learn that it was mainly Zack’s upper torso that’s been burned. After all, she had to roll them up for him, because he’d do such a botched-up job at it.

 Thankfully, the tourists often booked in mid-to-higher ranked places, so finding a shelter from the heat wasn’t too bad. Some motels wanted to question Ray, but the two would go to the next until one gave her a key as soon as money was flashed. Finally, a place to rest, and take advantage of some A/C.

 “Hurry the hell up and turn the damn thing on, I’m cooking in my own damn clothes, here!” Zack shouts.

 Impatient as ever, Ray knelt to the indoor A/C unit to adjust the temperature at a more comfortable setting, then set the speed of the fan, and she could hear the device quickly turn on. Then came the sound of Zack flopping onto the bed, exposing his bandaged torso out from his opened hoodie, he must be so relieved to feel the cool air against his body.

 “Fuuuck, how the hell to people stand this god damn heat? It sucks!” he complained.

 Ray sat herself on the bed next to Zack, “Hmm, all sort of reasons. Kids are out of school. People go on vacations. Others like to go to the beach…”

 Zack raised a brow, how she talked made it seem like she was about to say something else.

 “…and?”

 “O-oh…um…and I guess camping too…no, that probably counts as a vacation,” Ray stumbled on her words, her cheeks were becoming rosy.

 “Pretty sure you were gonna say something else,” Zack said as he rolled onto his side.

 Ray was tight lipped for a moment, then shook her head, “I-it’s selfish…it’s nothing, don’t worry about it.”

 “Spill it.”

 If Zack wanted answers, he wanted them now, and not a runaround. Ray knew this as she sighed to herself, then shyly looked to the man.

 “…My birthday too. It’s tomorrow…” she quietly said.

 “That’s what was so hard to say? Jeez…” Zack mumbled as he lightly shoved the girl, “Speak up sometimes…”

 “I’m sorry.”

 “Yeah, yeah…” Zack said, then lightly pat her back, “Um…happy early birthday, I guess? I don’t really have anything to give you, my bad.”

 “That’s fine, as long as I’m still with you, that’s a perfect gift for me,” Ray replied.

 Zack then lightly covered her face with his hand, that comment made him slightly flustered, “Come on, don’t go saying stuff like that, fuck…”

 Rachel shook herself free as she playfully flopped Zack’s hood back over his face, that action caught the man off guard for a moment, he never expected her to retaliate at him like that, but Zack couldn’t get mad, it was kind of funny to see someone like her act boldly.

 “Oh, look at you being all tough now,” he teased. Then he thought of something relating to the topic, “…I was born in the summer too, probably a little later than you though…I don’t really know the exact day…just a guess…”

 Rachel was intrigued and listened to what he had to say, “Is that so? Exact or no, it’s still something…”

 She remembered some of Zack’s information was on a sheet when the two were in that tower, but it had been so long, she couldn’t recall if a supposed birth date was on there or not.

 “When do you think you were born?”

 Zack thought for a moment, “It’s…definitely late July…I can remember that, because the days start to get much hotter…the 24th, I guess?”

 “I see, I’ll remember it then…I’ll be sure to get you something,” Ray replied, rather sweetly.

 “Better be a new knife or something, you still owe me one…ya know?” Zack murmured, as he lightly scratched the back of his head, “…seriously though…I’m just pulling your damn leg, you don’t have to bother getting me anything.”

 She probably would anyway, it was how she is.

 Eventually, Zack rolled himself off the bed and onto his feet. He slipped his hoodie off and tossed it to the girl, “Wash that real quick, I’m gonna hop in the shower and head back out…”

 “Just this?”

 “What, you want me waltzing around with no clothes on?” Zack remarked with a sarcastic grin.

 Boy, did Rachel’s face turn a deep shade of red before burying her face in his hoodie, Isaac couldn’t hold back a laugh as he began his walk to the bathroom.

 “Ha! I’ve never seen you turn so red, fucking priceless.”

 He was messing with her, it wasn’t the first time Zack teased her, but it was the first to make her blush so red.

 Ray huffed to herself and got up to do the small favor for him, since it was just one item, it didn’t take too long to wash and dry in the machines. She did feel slightly drained from walking around in the heat, and secretly wished she had the endless stamina like Zack. What could she do? She was still young. Rachel sighed to herself and decided to close her eyes for a bit, a little rest would do some good.

 It did take Zack a while to finish with his shower, there was the pain in the ass task of removing his old bandages, actually taking a damn shower, then the task of putting new wrappings back on. When he finally stepped out, he felt the immediate draft of the other room hit him, maybe they set the temperature down a little too much. Nothing his hoodie wouldn’t fix, the man walked up to the machine in the room’s laundry closet and pulled out his slightly warmed jacket.

 Zack can see through the window that the sun was in the process of setting, at least he won’t have to suffer in the unbearable heat.

 “Alright, I’m heading out…”

 No answer.

 Isaac raised a brow as he turned his head to Rachel, he quietly walked up to her and lightly poked the girl’s cheek - still warm.

 “Huh…knocked out…”

 It was going to be a simple errand, though, he never told Ray what it was, that was for the best anyway. Zack grabbed his disguised scythe and headed out the door, he made sure to close it quietly behind himself.

 Zack didn’t know why he was doing this, a supposed “errand” was actually him figuring out what the hell to get Ray for tomorrow. He shouldn’t care, but he didn’t know why he was so damn compelled to do it. Maybe it was the possibility of making her smile improve? Yeah, he’ll go with that. Nothing too sappy or anything, that wasn’t Zack’s motif.

 If he could piece anything from his less-than-stellar memory, she did like flowers, but it was too damn hot for flowers to last. Animals, was another, but no way in fuck he was going to fetch a live one. A doll of an animal maybe. Didn’t they have cakes involved too? No way he could steal a whole damn cake.

 This was too damn confusing.

 Whatever he would come across that he can steal, or looks like something Ray might like, then he’ll take it.

 He did spot a claw machine of sorts, possibly something to grab the attention of tourists and fleece them of their money. It did have potential items Zack could steal no problem, a simple smashing would do. He scanned his surroundings before he gripped onto the hilt of his scythe and swiftly slammed it against the glass. Zack reached in and grabbed whatever his fingers clasped and made a quick run for it.

 One side of himself told Zack what he was doing was stupid yet his more destructive side was having a field day in smashing and stealing things. The side he listened to was quite obvious.

 Zack hid himself for a moment, then glanced at his potential loot, it was a small teddy bear. He brushed off any remaining shards of glass off the false fur, then stuffed it into his hoodie. Good enough, he thought to himself, and quietly slunk into the shadows. The man eventually made his back to where him and Ray made their temporary residence. With no hassles at all, he’d call it a good night, a tourist would most likely be blamed for his bit of vandalism. As Zack walked past the vending machines next to the motel, his mind began to tick once more.

 Sure, he could smash it open, but why would risk the two having to ditch their brief moment of comfort and sleep in the muggy outdoors? Fuck that. Isaac quietly walked up to one of the machines, pulled a sleeve back, and slid his hand through the retrieval slot. He was glad his arm was slender enough to reach whatever he could pillage, he knocked down a few bags of candy and snacks, then scooped them all up in his arms and into his hoodie.

 That should be a decent amount.

 Isaac slowly turned the doorknob to their room, and peeked his head inside. Rachel was still sleeping on the bed – perfect.

 The man quietly made his way into the room and propped his scythe onto the wall to be used for another day. Getting his loot out of his hoodie without waking Ray was the hard part, every bag wanted to crinkle from each movement Zack made, he wasn’t the delicate type, but he did manage to get them all out and propped onto the nightstand next to Ray’s bed. Zack stared at the small pile of goodies he had gotten specifically for Ray, and for her birthday nonetheless, then pondered why he was so driven to get her such trivial things.

 One assurance was for her smile to change, but maybe it was something more than that. Maybe he felt like Ray at least deserved someone who gave a damn about when she was born, and he was absolutely sure Rachel’s own family didn’t care much. Fuck it, she earned it.  Zack may have sworn to kill her one day, but at least he wanted her to have some joys in her life – die with no regrets.

 Isaac brought a hand up and gently ran his fingers through her hair before he decided to go to bed himself.

 The next morning, Rachel was the first to wake up, yet she didn’t feel a familiar warmth beside her like she normally did. The girl looked to see Zack was snoozing in the other bed beside hers, she was confused for a moment, then turned to see something beside her nightstand.

 Candy, snacks, and a small teddy bear.

 Ray moved herself to sit on the edge of the bed and picked up the small plush animal, then quickly glanced over to the sleeping man. So, that’s what he was doing while he was out? He got her gifts for her birthday, and chose to sleep in the other bed to keep her from waking – almost like a surprise.

 She felt herself give a soft smile as she held the bear against her body, for a blunt man like Zack, it was a sweet gesture. Ray stood up and walked over to Zack’s bed, she knelt down slightly as she gave his covered forehead a tender kiss of gratitude.

 “Thank you, Zack…” she whispered.

 Maybe when Zack’s supposed birthday came around, she’d like to surprise him too. He may act like he’d be opposed to it, but she knew he’d probably he very happy about it just like she is today.

[northofsomewhererp]

Your Name, Age (17+), & Timezone: Tash, old enough to retire, UTC +10

Your Birthday: August 1st (fun fact, I share it with all the horses down under)

Indiana Miles Waters turned 28 years old on September 1st. He’s a mechanic in Greensville. His face claim is Ryan Guzman.

Admin Note: Now to send in the URL, and remember to wait until his follow link is up to start posting!

Bio:

Miles had never been sure how his life would turn out. He’d never had that dream - not the grand, luxurious dream where everything was alright, the world at his fingertips. Not the suburban one, with white picket fences, 2.5 kids, and the golden retriever. He’d had enough trouble picturing a steady home … four walls, a roof. That was Miles’ endgame.

For as long as he could remember, Miles had lived with his father, his new partner, and his half-brother. It hadn’t been what Miles had wanted, but Miles, the four-year-old in the middle of the chaos, hadn’t had a say. And he hadn’t gotten one in all of the years to follow - no tantrum, no screaming match, no threat would sway Jaxon Water’s decision. And so, Miles was permitted one day a month - one lousy day - to visit his mother. Jaxon had carried on like it was a gift, a blessing through his spite. Miles’ hatred had deepened. The gum on his shoe meant more to him (the gum, he’d argue, was something to eat, more than Jaxon bothered to put on their table).

Still … it hadn’t been all bad. Miles wouldn’t go so far as to call it a home, but he’d had a family. He’d had his brother. It hadn’t been perfect - Miles, after all, hadn’t signed up to become a live-in babysitter, hadn’t requested a shadow, hadn’t wanted to worry about someone other than himself. But … he’d taken it on, and he’d tucked Fin under his wing without raising a fuss. No-one could say he’d done well, but Miles had tried. Dammit, Miles had tried for Fin.

Lifting the odd loaf of bread, gallon of milk, or bottle of cough medicine from their local corner store was a quick fix, and Miles had mastered it by the age of twelve. His methods weren’t ideal, but he’d learned to stand on his own to feet - and he’d learn, in his own … particular way, how to scrape by for himself and his brother. Life hadn’t been perfect, but Miles knew his place in it. And then, Carmen had passed away. Miles’ one day, his escape, was gone. Carmen had been spiralling for a long time, never having truly recovered from the break-up, the affair, from Jaxon’s continuing torment … Miles had watched it happen, Jaxon had watched it happen, and the grieving 12-year-old would not forget that. It was Jaxon’s fault. Jaxon and the other woman.

He’d needed an out. But to get there, he’d needed cash. An income he was never going to get from Jaxon … but Jaxon wasn’t important. MIles only had to find the right people, the right in (to get out), whisper the right words in the right ears, and before long, he was running “errands” across Daytona Beach, putting those early pickpocketing, shoplifting skills to the test. The first and only tests he’d passed with flying colours. One thing had led to another, and before long, Miles was in too deep. He wasn’t too far gone not to recognise that, but he was too involved to back away. And he wouldn’t want t. For the first time in his life, Miles had something. Besides, what was one missing sports car? They could get another. The fuckers could afford it. And deserved it if they were stupid enough to leave the vehicle within reach … nevermind the locked garages. Security? Miles didn’t know her.

He’d never wanted to drag Fin down with him. The auto theft circuit wasn’t meant to be his brother’s future, Miles had wanted better for him … but he’d fucked up. Like everything else in his life, that had blown up in his face. It wasn’t until the girlfriend that Miles saw the opportunity to shock Fin back into sense, back to school … hell, back to sanity. Safety. The girl - Legs? Blondie? Miles never could remember her name - had a reputation. Miles knew it, everyone knew it … everyone, it seemed, but Fin. She’d been taking his brother for a ride - Miles, and God-knows-who-else. Miles had lost track of the stories. Her stories. He’d tried to warn him, has gone so far as to try and trick him into walking in on her and her latest fling. It hadn’t worked … nothing had worked.

Until one night, pissed beyond measure at the trouble his brother’s antics had caused, furious at the repercussions he could already feel raining down on his head (it wouldn’t be the first time Miles had taken the brunt of his brother’s consequences, and it wouldn’t be the last), he’d lost whatever sense he’d had left. Fin wouldn’t listen. Miles would make him listen. Legs - he really sure had at least remembered her name - had been all too eager. A tumble between the sheets with the older brother had been on her radar, whether either of the Waters had been aware of it or not.

Miles should have known it would go south. In fact … he’d never admit it, but the dark, twisted part of him that had been festering for years, had known exactly what it would do. Fin had crossed a line, Miles had burned every last bridge. The fights had escalated, five minutes couldn’t pass between them without a black eye, or a busted lip. And that was on a good day. Miles had been practicing his suturing for years … and that was a damn good thing.  Doctors asked too many questions.

Miles hadn’t known of Fin’s mistake with the kid until the day of the speedway bust. The day their lives went to shit (and that, Miles thought, was saying something). He’d been ready, a master of excuses, to fight, to snag himself a shorter sentence … even better, no sentence! But … but Fin. Despite everything, Miles had stuck his hand up, he’d claimed full responsibility. Miles had taken the fall, the plea, he’d barked “guilty” to anyone who would listen. He’d kept his brother out of it.

… only to find out that while Miles had sacrificed his own freedom for Fin, Fin had done nothing but toss himself deeper into Hell’s clutches. Seven (in what initially had been nine) years of his life for nothing. Freedom, Miles realised when he was granted it, and took his first steps as a free man since 21, didn’t taste sweet. It tasted bitter. Fin wasn’t the little brother he’d sacrificed the last bowl of cereal for, or given whatever loose change he could scrounge together for one last shot at Space Invaders … Fin was someone else. Something else. He wasn’t family. Carmen was, and she’d been gone 15 years.

Now, Miles’ plans are up in the air. He isn’t naive enough to believe it’s as easy as “turning his life around”, and … he isn’t sure that he wants to. With no qualifications, no real education beyond his GED, and a criminal record behind him, he knows his chances are slim. Just as he knows that with the right connections … well, every door would be opened to him once more. And this time, he knew what not to do. He wouldn’t get caught, for one. And he wouldn’t have Fin dragging him down. He may have secured himself a probationary position at one of Greensville’s garages, but … only time would tell if Miles could keep himself on the straight and narrow, for once in his damn life.

Activity (1-10): 6-7 (lurking though? About a 20)

Have you read the rules?: removed

In the event that you leave, can we keep your biography for future use? No, sorry!

Sample:

Legitimate jobs, Miles was learning, were the new and improved bane of his entire existence. 

There were start times. And right now, that meant rolling out of the warmth of– what was her name again? It meant rolling out of the warmth of Last Night's bed, and fucking off while she showered. There’d be no return invite - not that he’d been looking for one. He was a free man, and free men were … well, free to take advantage of that. 

Kicking his feet from the bed, Miles hauled his jeans up, and set out in search of his shirt while his hands worked to buckle his belt. It wasn’t in the bedroom - had she taken it to the bathroom? Fucker. He didn’t have time for that crap. Just as he was prepping himself to don his jacket and his head off, he spotted the missing top, tossed over the coffee table, a makeshift grey place mat. Crinkled to shit, but Miles didn’t care. What mechanic ironed his fucking t-shirts? 

It should have been a case of waltzing from the door (in fact, it should have been a case of waiting to say goodbye before seeing himself out), but that wasn’t on Miles’ agenda. Instead, he took himself to the kitchen, snagging a banana from Last Night’s fruit bowl, and proceeded to the door from there … along with the coffee shop loyalty card propped against her key bowl. Get the sixth free.

Today was his lucky day.