#reverse tuck end boxes

[garciaasfluffypen]

take care of me (like i take care of you) pt. 2

pairing: jemily x adhd!reader word count: 2.3k warnings: reader’s kinda bratty in this one! reader is confused as to why being bratty is making them feel tingly but they like it so they keep doing it, softdom!jj begins to make an appearance, color system usage, the origin of jj refusing to be called mommy (she has a moment™️)

a/n: hi besties!! i wrote this on my phone because i can’t find my laptop charger so please excuse any sort of typos you find! thats also why the beginning of this post currently isn’t formatted like the other ones but soon as i can charge my laptop i’ll be fixing it. there will be a part three to this! i had to find a good place to end or else this would have been a beast to read lol.

ps. when i wrote this i was 100% imagining white tank top!jj and emily in the burgundy lululemon looking sweatshirt from the episode where they’re building the crib for kristy and matt ;)

you couldn’t contain your excitement as you basically tripped over your feet to run up to jj’s audi, jumping up and down in your seat as you waited for your girlfriends to join you. it was five minutes past nine and everyone was ready so naturally you ran to the car. you had been ready for two hours, but that was only because you had gotten up so early. you had everything you could possibly need in your little cross shoulder body bag and had to stop yourself from biting your fingernails to the quip in pure excitement as you waited. emily came out first, slipping you your preferred chewy necklace that was easy to hide under your shirt. as soon as the chewy end of it entered your mouth, emily’s hands reached around you and wrapped the black string around your neck. without realizing it you naturally leaned into her touch, pulling her hand toward your cheek as you fidgeted with the hem of your shirt while you stared at the door leading inside the kitchen. jj came out a few minutes later, her to-go cup of coffee tucked neatly away in the crook of her arm as she started to pull up the directions to the zoo.

jj slid into the drivers seat with ease, smiling at you as she saw the way you were sitting. she grabbed your hand and gave it a squeeze before placing your phone in it, chuckling lightly at the layer of blush that ended up on your cheeks as you sheepishly took it from her. your block blast game was still up on the screen as you left it on the bathroom counter when you started doing your makeup. jj started the car and reversed out the driveway, leaving you to become reimmersed in your game. before you knew it you could just start see the sign for the zoo on the water tower peeking over the houses in the distance, meaning you were just about ten minutes away.

“lovey, besides seeing the giraffes, is there anything you want to do today?”

“um… i haven’t seen the elephants in a long time.” you paused, thinking. “and also the lions, i want to see the lions too.”

“do you think we could fit in a visit to the lemurs?” jj shot a glance to you. “i quite like lemurs.”

you nodded. “we can definitely see the lemurs.”

you made a mental note to yourself that jj liked lemurs, adding it to the little box that you had in your brain with facts about your girlfriends. it was mainly filled with silly little facts that most people wouldn’t normally pay attention to, like the fact emily writes in print script or that jj only eats salt and vinegar chips when she’s high. sure, there were the obvious facts that almost everyone on the team knew, but there were ones that were just your facts. and you wanted to keep them that way.

despite being a fully grown adult, you knew deep down that things like this were needed to help heal your inner child. you didn’t have the best childhood, but you were doing your best to fix it now. you bounced anxiously on the balls of your feet as you waited for the train to take you to the back of the zoo, the wind blowing your hair all around your face as you waited. jj silently pulled you toward her and helped you pull your hair back, putting it in a single braid for you.

by the time you got to the giraffe exhibit you could barely contain your excitement, your hands balling into fits and promptly unballing themselves as you tried to combat the need to stim. your arms stiffened as you tried to hold back your energy, shaking a bit as you focused on staying still as you could. that didn’t last long, seeing as there wasn’t many people around you at the moment and your girlfriends were positioned behind you. you let your hands start flapping, doing your best to keep them close to your sides as possible. a small squeak of noise came out of your mouth as you watched the zoo keepers slowly bring out the stars of the event. the crowd around you started to grow as the people made their way up from the front of the zoo, most of them not paying you any attention and instead looking for the little baby that the zoo was celebrating.

slowly but surely the calf made it's way out of the enclosure, still a little unsteady on it's feet. you watched in awe as it made it's way around the exhibit, noting how small it was compared to it's parents. jj wrapped her arms around you from behind, intertwining her fingers with your hands and placing a kiss on your shoulder. you could tell she was standing on her tip toes to reach your shoulder and made sure to flatten your feet, considering you tended to stay on your tip toes when you got too excited about things.

“how tall do you think he is?”

“i’d guesstimate around 6 feet.” you rocked up and back down to flat feet as you spoke. “giraffes give birth standing up so they fall roughly six feet to the ground but get up on their feet within the hour.”

“you know more about giraffes than i thought.”

“i had a hyperfixation on wild animals and the care of them before i ended up in the academy. i was wanting to double major in zoology and communications before i started to look into paths to go down with a communications degree.” you turned to face jj and emily. “i was going to be an advocate for animal rights but then i started reading about the fbi and decided that would probably be a better path to go down.”

before you could continue your thoughts, the chime that sounded before the giraffe feedings sounded, signaling for everyone who had a ticket to line up. you were closer to the end, whch was fine because it meant you could watch the giraffes for longer. emily and jj made sure to take pictures of you the whole time, smiling and laughing along with you as the giraffe’s tongue tickled your hand while it ate the leaves you held out. by the time you got out of the exhibit, your stomach started to rumble and you pouted towards your girlfriends as you walked past one of the many cafés scattered around the zoo. without a word, emily pulled the three of you inside, telling you to order whatever you wanted. you ended up going for the chicken tenders and fries, knowing that the meal was something you most likely would have gotten when you came as a child. it was hard to remember if you ever came, but you presumed it was what you got because it felt right.

by the time the three of you made it to the halfway point, you started to realize your whole body was beginning to hurt. you weren’t sure if it was from physically stopping yourself from stimming in the bigger crowds, or if it was from all the walking you had done. either way, you found yourself starting to slow down a bit and start to feel like you needed a ten hour nap. it was only when you got toward the lemur exhibit when your body really started to hurt, and you unintentionally started to let it slip into your mind that you were hurting and needed to go home.

jj was the first to notice that you were starting to feel off, clocking the heaviness of your walking and the fact you had started to get a little whiney. there had been approximately three times in the five years she had known you that she had ever seen you this way. and all of those times happened when you were over exerting yourself. most of the times it was because you were stubborn, but this time it didn’t seem that way. within ten minutes you were complaining about how much your feet hurt and how you felt like you were going to die if you didn’t get to sit down within the next five minutes. emily and jj fell a few steps behind you, whispering to each other about how to go about the situation.

“do you think she’s subconsciously wanting us to.. i dunno, take control? lacey mentioned something about that at the support group on saturday.”

jj chewed at the end of her necklace. “it's possible. i’m willing to try it if you are, but the second they push back or show any signs of not going along with it i’m stopping.”

“are you going to take the lead on this?”

“if you don’t mind. we know how easily they’ll react to you, i’m curious what would happen if you didn’t say anything but i did.”

“then do it. i trust you.”

jj squeezed emily’s hand before making her way back over to where you sat on the bench, watching the zebra walk by and graze on the grass in front of you. you definitely looked worse for wear, considering the braid your hair had been in all day was beginning to come undone and you most definitely got sunburned on your shoulders at some point. jj knew you weren’t feeling well, and that you were hiding it in order to appease her and emily. it was something she had noticed multiple times throughout their time with you so far. even if you didn’t feel like doing something, you typically would put on a happy face and go through with it anyway. it hadn’t happened much, but she had started to catch it more and more.

“y/n, it’s time to go.”

“what? no!” you gasped. “we haven’t even been to the polar bears yet!”

“i know, and i know you want to finish it but i’m calling it.” jj stepped closer to you, her voice dropping. “you’re tired and need to go home and rest. i’m giving you til the count of five, and if you don’t get up and come with us to the car we won’t go to dolphin beach this weekend.”

“you wouldn’t!”

“five.”

“jayje- this isn’t fair! em-my, do something!” you whined, staring at the brunette.

“two.” jj raised an eyebrow as you refused to budge. “fine, we stay, but no beach then.”

“i’d listen to her if i were you.” emily replied. “while we haven’t truly gotten into that dynamic with you just yet, i will say that i’d be careful how much you go against her, lovey.” emily gave you a pointed look before clasping her hands together. “that being said, we use the color system. red means hard stop, yellow means i’m uncomfortable and green means go.” emily paused. “color?”

“green.”

“good. if anything changes, tell jj. i’m going to go to the ladies room, i’ll meet you up by the gates.”

emily placed a kiss on jj’s cheek and simply patted you on the shoulder before walking towards the front of the zoo, leaving you alone with the blonde. the logical part of your brain knew she was right. you were tired, your body was aching and you couldn’t walk for more than five minutes without having to sit down. but on the other hand, you were having fun poking the bear. reluctantly you got up, huffing and making a big deal of going home. you didn’t understand much about the way it was making you feel, but you knew it sent a tingle through your body seeing jj getting all worked up. it was amusing to you how red she got from you simply being a brat. and frankly, you liked it.

“you’re being unfair!”

“this attitude stops now, y/n. we’re going home.”

you bit your tongue cheekily, a glint forming in your eyes as you waited to see jj’s reaction. “mommy, you’re being mean to me.”

jj whipped her head to you, balling her hand into a fist at the side of her body. “what did you just call me?”

“… mommy?”

jj stopped walking suddenly, causing you to bump into her. “red.” she swallowed. “i’d like to talk about that later, when we’re home. not right now.”

“i’m sorry.” you looked at the ground, mortified. “it won’t happen again.”

a wave of guilt overtook your body as you two quietly walked to the front of the zoo, emily sensed some tension the second she saw you two, but knew that if she said anything you would probably start to spiral. by the time you got back to the car, all you could do was slip into the backseat and hope that jj wasn’t do mad at you that she was going to end everything. emily, albeit confused, took the front seat, trying to get an accurate read on jj. something happened while she was in the bathroom, but she couldn’t place a finger on what exactly that something was. by the time jj pulled into the driveway, the tension in the car had gotten so thick you couldn’t hold your tears back, letting them fall slowly down your cheeks as you forced yourself not to sob.

“go to our room. i’m going to compose my thoughts, give us a minute to calm down, then i’ll come talk to you.”

“o-okay.”

jj waited until you got out of the car to look at emily. “i called red.”

“what happened?”

“she called me mommy. i didn’t like it. i felt… gross. it was almost… too feminine?” jj looked at emily. “i probably sound crazy but-“

“you’re allowed to not like the way it makes you feel, jay.”

“i just don’t understand why it made my skin crawl.”

“may i.. is that why you don’t like being called beautiful or pretty?”

jj’s head snapped up. “huh?”

“the feminine terms. you don’t like them.”

“not necessarily, no.”

emily nodded. “we don’t have to unravel this now, but we need to put a pin in this. the three of us need to talk about that together so we’re all on the same page.”

“you’re right. can you go check on them? i just need… i need to think about how i’m going to articulate everything.”

“of course.” emily squeezed jj’s hand. “come up when you’re ready.”

“i will. promise.”

taglist: @jayden-prentiss @idkwhatever580 @multifandomlesbianic @softestqueeen

[ddejavvu]

Hi! If you are up for it and feel inspired: maybe Jake let’s his girl decorate the passenger seat in his car (I feel like he would have a pickup truck but literally any car works) because she is his certified passenger princess. I can see her adding a ton of cute little things to her seat/area that just make it pink and comfy and Jake still being like “that’s not enough, add more”, because he wants her to be happy and comfy and he loves looking over at the seat and being reminded of her?

The stare that Jake gives Fanboy when the man tries climbing into the passengers seat of his truck has the potential to raze a city to the ground. It's withering, condescending, and Fanboy feels frozen by it.

"Uh-"

"What are you doing?" Jake asks, his hands poised on the wheel. Fanboy had thought his behavior was somewhat self-explanatory - getting into the car? - but he suddenly can barely speak under the weight of Jake's gaze. He lets his eyes drop instead to the seat, formerly covered in black fabric and now shrouded in pink. There's a blanket tucked beneath the glove box, a silicon cupholder affixed to the door, a pillow strapped to the headrest, and candy - pink starburst- waiting on the dashboard.

Fanboy only has one guess, and he hopes it's the right one: "Is this seat saved for your girlfriend?"

"Well those aren't your panda bear slippers on the floor, are they?" Jake drawls, and Fanboy resists the urge to roll his eyes if only to avoid getting abandoned in the parking lot of his apartment complex.

"I'll get in the back," He grumbles, shutting the door perhaps a tad harder than he needs to. Jake doesn't comment, but he makes casual conversation on the way to their next stop. One by one, the truck fills up, until there's no seats left and they need to hide away in the bed. Legal? No. Fun? Yes.

The last stop that Jake pulls up to is a little townhouse, and you're waiting on the steps. His team has met you before, and you're giddy to reunite with them, laughing cheerily as four men wave clumsily at you from the bed of the truck that they're not supposed to be in.

Jake leans over with that charming grin of his to ask for a kiss before you've even settled in your seat, and you're happy to lean over and smooch him as an entry fee for your ride.

"Hi, pretty girl," Jake hums, voice infinitely softer than when he'd greeted Fanboy, "Saved a seat for 'ya."

"I bought new stuff to put in your car," You admit sheepishly, revealing a mirror charm with the moon on one end, and stars on the other, "Is it okay if I put it up? I don't want to distract you. Or- or mess with the vibe of your space."

"Give it here, darlin'." Jake holds out his hand in lieu of a direct answer, delicately stringing the charm over the arm of his mirror, "There, makes the buffoons in the back look a whole lot prettier."

"Hi, buffoons," You greet teasingly, peering back once you settle in your seat to greet Fanboy, Payback, and Coyote, "Do we need to go get anyone else?"

"Nope," Jake checks to make sure your seatbelt is secure by gently tugging on the strap, acquiescing when it stays firmly in its latch. He throws an arm over the headrest of your seat, his large hand enveloping the pink straps of your headrest completely as he peers behind him to back out of his temporary parking spot. Satisfied, he steals one more kiss for good measure before putting the car in reverse, "Saved the best for last, baby doll."

[dimpledcherry]

would you write eddie munson x fem!reader smut?

where eddie’s chilling in his girls‘s room, bored because she’s taking a shower. he’s kinda snoopin’ around & finds a pastel pink book. he’s curious & starts reading it, realizing it’s her diary. he skips to the last page, dated just a few days ago. his eyes widen, not believing what he’s reading about his innocent girl.

sure they had sex. and not that vanilla, too. but he would’ve never thought his girl had thoughts like that. on this very page, his girl wrote her hidden fantasies. things she never even thought of telling eddie, too embarrassed. she’s talking about how she wants to call eddie „daddy“, or be choked, be humiliated to the brim, be filled by his cum till he’s dry, want him to be in complete control. she wants to be fully submitted to him.

before he can put the diary away she comes out of the bathroom, catching him. he confronts her & she tells him how embarrassed she is etc. they talk it out & he reversals that some of the stuff she likes he likes too. then they make out & they try out some of the stuff.

Oh my god you're an evil genius, time I put my 4 years of journaling to good use! - also ive been working on this all week and the 'h' key on my keyboard keeps getting stuck and its making typing no longer fun :/

Written Fantasies

Summary: ^^ the ask Pairing: Eddie x Reader Trigger Warnings: Smut / Embarrassment / hands on throats - no chocking Content Warnings: Diary Reading / blow jobs / impoliteness / shoe frontage / demands / deep throating / reader masturbation

MY EDDIE MASTERLIST BABY!!!!!!!

The space was as recognisable as the back of his hand, and as comforting as his denim vest: lightly coloured walls, cabinets around the room, shelves and counter tops filled trinkets and lifes memorabilia: photos of events, pretty candles, books, small trinkets of days out, wrist bands and broken watches that simply just meant too much.

Things changed every time he entered this space: photos changed frames, boxes gained new records, the cassette piles grew, and the books changed order.

Eddie clocked - while laying on your bed waiting for you to come back from your shower - that not only had the books changed but new ones were added. when he sat up to take a better look: there were 4 books, all identical sat up together leaning on a pile of published books.

The 4 were pink, all the same size, some slightly thicker, one especially thinner. All with individual dates written into their spines: 1983, 1984,1985, 1986. He weren't no idiot, his brain sorted that they were diaries.

He felt a twinge of pride for you to have the left out on display - almost like trophies, proud of your past. He knew a lot about you but you'd seemed to have never told him you wrote a diary. Eddie knew it was standard procedure you don't read people diary: just as you don't snoop in artists sketch books or dungeon masters binders. But who would he be kidding if he said he didn't wanna read it.

He thought a moment, concentrating and recognising the shower was still running. He didn't have to think too much, the boy was running on curiosity alone. Sat up on the edge of your bed, he leant over and pulled 1986 into his hands.

It started with him just flicking the pages: most of it empty; a few loose sheets tucked into the back; a pen clipped to the elastic closer. The filled side of the book was set out meticulously: a yearly planner already almost filled with exams, cheer practice, birthdays, appointments, dates with Eddie, every Tuesday marked with Hideout at 7, every odd Friday marked Hellfire!.

There was this warmness in his heart, knowing his life was just as important to you as it was for him. He believed every I love you, but know he understood every I love you.

He flicked through the book more: budget planners, goal pages, period trackers, and the body. Filled with your typical too-curly-to-read handwriting, every page filled line for line. Some sitting half empty signifying the end of an entry.

Eddie couldn't possibly understand what you had to write about for long that you wouldn't just tell him or your friends.

He found the dog eared page, the scruffily written date marking yesterday. Eddie smiled to himself, feeling a little giddy. He knew he shouldn't but he really couldn't stop himself.

As he read down the page: a recall of your date to the record store and diner, small notes of your gushing over Eddie's chivalry (he always thought holding doors open and little pet names were usual things), a detailed explanation of his outfit and how you loved it (he read that a few times, remember to wear his little thigh harness around you more often.). And as he continued to read, the writting felt less confident, as though there as a topic waited to be hinted at.

He skipped over to the next page and down it, finding a few words grabbing his eyes: touch myself, embarrassing, chocked, him, daddy.

His eyebrows rested in his hairline, eyes almost leaving his skull, the warmth on his checks wasn't imagined. He jumped back a few lines:

Jesus I feel 14 again. I dont know why he does this to me. I see him everyday, and yet im still pinning over him like he's some untouchable deity.

He reads down

We have sex so much but like every night I end up touching myself thinking about- its so embarrassing! I feel like ive been poisoned!! literally none of my friends are like this about their boyfriends!

yeah we all talk about sex but they all have usual sex and normal fantasies but like I feel like a deviant. if I ever told anyone what I really want they'd all look at me so weird

but if I think about sex with him about him all I can think of is his hands and his lips and his voice! and if Im actually honest with myself, all I want is him. I cant stop. ive got into this habit of thinking about him before I go to bed and like every night I touch myself to him.

literally seem like I cant just have him- and I so can but I want so much more!

like if I really thought about it: I'd love him to just use me, do whatever. He could fuck me, make me fuck him, cum in me, chock me, spit on me and I'd be so fucking happy!

Or like, my brain keeps thinking to what if we're fucking and someone hears or we're almost gonna get caught and it turns me on so much! I feel like a pervert.

Eddie felt himself hold his breath.. he was no prude, under his bed was riddled with lost porn mags, he know a lot about kinks and fetishes but something about hearing from you - sweet, quite, calm you- shit! He was getting all flustered.

And like also! keep calling him Daddy in my mind too - I dont know where thats come from but it feels so right! I just really want him to just have his way with me. I dont know how on earth I tell him this. this is so embarrassing.

Eddie was transfixed by your confessions: the sound of the water had slipped his ears. Let alone, he hadn't heard the floor creak and wind chance as you entered the room.

"Jesus babe! You scared me- can't make a guy jump like that!" He yelped, the towel hitting the bed making him jump back into real time.

You laughed at him at first... until your eyes danced around him... and what he had in his hand. You didnt need to ask to know. And almost instantly you felt your body tense, mind go blank and cheek redden. Hands sat in on each other, lips rolled in, eye popping out almost. "Um-"

Confident as ever, he laid back into your pillows, straightening out his legs, "Didn't know you thought like this, Sweetheart.." He started reading, "Kinda want him to fill me until hes dry-"

You leapt onto him - to be honest the word doesn't cut it. You practically jumped on him, trying to grab the book from him but he was swift... dodging your hands artfully as he continued reading. His light and teasing voice was harmonised by your loud commands for him to stop. The room had laughter too: Yours was embarrassment and his was humour.

After a particularly wobbly Eddie! he put the book down, giving you a perfect moment to sling it back onto your cabnit. "Please stop." You frowned.

"Awe sorry baby," He laughed, pulling you down for a cuddle, "It's really hot though." You whined, "It is! Fuck babe," He sighed, "I really didn't think you'd wanna do anything like that!" It surpassed you how he had this ability to never be ashamed or embarrassed about anything. He dipped his head into your neck, "Like being chocked, filled with my cum. fuck, even messy..."

"Shut up!" You leant up, hands flying to his face, coving his mouth and you were straddled to his hips. "I can't believe you- I'm so embarassed!"

"Why?" Earnest and lovie as he moved your hands down.

"You were never meant to find out..."

"Why, you know im into anything?"

"Embarassing."

"No its not."

"yes, it is."

"You know," he started rubbing your thighs, "I'd love to fuck you dumb, fill you up, have you all messy-"

Now you'd be lying if you said he wasn't affecting you- you were embarrassed but so secretly turned on. Your tummy tensed, the blood went to your head, your thighs stiffened. But still your embarrassment was bigger, "Stop making fun of me!"

"Baby baby baby" He cooed, pulling your hands from your face, "I promise i'm really not."

You whined at him, he mimicked you back, pulling you down for a delicate honest kiss. It was deep and slow, him offering his truth to you. And who wouldn't melt into that? His hands now found your hip and your neck, in to your lips his mumbled "Roll over."

You gasp as he rearranges you both, your back now to the bed, "Wanna try something." He sat up continuing, "We can't your little sexual fantasies now-" You squirm in embarrassment, "But" He began stroking your cheek in efforts to pull you out your head. "I wanna try something new.""

He leant down planting a sweet kiss to your lips though you tried to chase him for a second, he was already moving down into your neck, planting even sweeter ones there. You could never stay quiet for his sightly chapped lips and heavy hands - small mewls slipped from you. "Good girl." Quiet, practically breathed from Eddie.

"We can't try the public-people-home stuff, but" another neck kiss, "I do.." another kiss to the other side, "really like the idea" a kiss under your ear, "of having you fully submitted" a kiss to the shell of your ear "to me"

The way you gasp makes Eddie sure he's hit gold with you. As he talks, your hand in his hair pulls and squeezes more, "How about," He moves along to kiss your cheek, "I get you on your knees" Another kiss, "no pillow, because desperate whores don't deserve kind treatment." A light kiss to your lips, "And I let you blow me?" Another kiss, "But" Kiss "I'll be holding your head," He was now resting on his forearms, fingers lost in your hair, "Pushing and pulling you exactly how I want?" Another light kiss met with a hearty pull of your hair, "Fill that little mouth up with my cum."

God you were in heaven - how did you manage to get a boy like him. All you felt you could do was nod at him. A tap of your thigh and you were on the floor kneeling between his legs as he sat on the edge of your bed.

Looking up at him, the shy coy expression fell naturally on you, "Pretty girl, aren't you?" He complimented. "Get on with it then." It was like a switch was flipped.

Excitedly, you get his belt and jeans off. His dick was hard and pretty as ever - not too big but a little wide, a more red tint than the rest of him already bleeding pre cum.

You got personal with it, licking the beed off, replacing it with a kiss. Eddie couldn't help the sigh - you ruin him on the daily no matter what you do. You could get lost playing with his head. He helped by tucking your hair behind your ears, keeping his hands on your lower head and jaw.

The kisses turn into kitten licks met with you looking up at him, his spaced out satisfied look made you smile, "Shit- open your mouth for me."

Sat up a bit more, the head of is cock resting on your lower lip, palms lost behind his calves: you were ready to try something you never thought you'd get to. The hands in your hair pushing you down slowly, and pulled you back up even more delicately - he giving both of you the space to gauge how yous felt.

"Suck it a bit harder" You did. "fuck-you love this, don't you?" You nod.

It was really all he needed - he didn't even need verbal confirmation, just the feel of your nails in the backs of his legs and how your eyes were rolled back and closing was enough, not to mentions the light noises in your throat. He pushed you down with more force, hands now cupping your cheeks and jaw.

He didn't make you deep throat him - neither of you needed to go that far at the moment. The half of his dick that was still straining your jaw send your brains both tumbling.

Eddie yanked you off him with a rough tug to your hair pulling a throat whine out of you, "Shit babe- you're a little slut aren't you?"

You nodded dumbly, "For you- love you."

"I love you too," A thumb stroked your cheek, "Daddy loves you."

Maybe it was the name. Maybe it was the humiliating reminder he had read you diary. Maybe it was the whispering in the empty quiet house. Maybe it was just him. But you were sure he'd just written you off to hell. You felt a beed of slick drop from your cunt.

And Eddie practically felt it too: he could see the haze covering your pretty eyes and the cheeky smile that covered your face.

A thumb toyed with your lip, he continued, "Gotta get you a little collar with my name on it." And with that you basically purred at him. Eddie was sure he was lost in you as you started to barely suck his thumb.

He'd never had you so spaced and floaty. Sure you've both spoken through sex before but nothing like this, nothing so painfully skilled in what the other actually needs to hear. Sex had never felt so possessive until right now.

The sight of you both was like it was from a porno: you, puffy lipped, half lidded eyes and big breaths; Eddie, pointed look, panting, loved up eyes.

The other hand dropped from your cheek and sat around your neck back - the pressure alone made your eyes flutter - and the sight went straight to his dick.

He popped his thumb out your mouth and brung you up for a dirty, messy, deep kiss. No coordination, just lust. Teeth smacking teeth, uncomfortable postures, hands gripping and clawing where ever they could.

He pulled away, standing up as if to leave. But you whine is stopped when you see he leant against your cabinet. Very idolly, he picked up the diary searching for the place he left off on, commanding a "Come here" using his fingers to make a curling motion, not even bothering to look up at you. "Crawl" He sneers almost as you go to get up.

Granted the space wasn't so big so the crawl was more of an awkward on-you-knees- shuffle but boy did that embarrassment climb back up inside you. If this was with anyone else, the pang of embarrassment woulda been too much, but something in Eddies low murmured tone did something totally new to you. "You're a good little pet, aren't you?"

His eyes never left the book in front of him: flicking through pages, scanning for the right sentence. He began reading off again. Completely as though it was the Sunday news paper and not your kinkiest secret fantasies.

"Eddie stop-"

"You know thats not my name." Eyes still in the book, tone stern and cold. You positioned on your claves between his legs, just waiting. "Thought you liked this? I know this isn't as good as being caught but its pretty close, right?" Finally he looks over.

The sudden feeling of something under you made you squirm, "Go on," He continued, "Get yourself off while I read your silly little diary."

The feeling that swelled in your belly was indescribable. It was overwhelming, unignorable and life changing. Like a duckling to its mother, you blindly listened: beginning to slowly rub yourself on the top of his foot.

"Suck my cock too, Sweetheart." He completely disregards you, finally finding his place on the pages. But he didn't start reading until he could feel your lips kiss his cock head.

You try to loose yourself in kissing him and the weight on your tongue but the perching reminder of what he is reading keeps pulling you out. The blood in your ears and the cotton in your brain were getting thicker.

You felt a ring or two pull on the strands of your hair, your gasps causing you to suck his in harder. You felt the rings apply more of a push at certain points of Eddies reading.

It's all sort of too dirty to really feel like its real life. Nobody really experiences this stuff right? Like it's all just movie magic? Clearly not. Clearly somehow you'd hit the jackpot. Somehow in small little irrelevant Hawkins in the mid 80s, you'd met the jack pot.

The sound of a book hitting a surface pulls you from your slack, readjusting yourself back to the present, you felt two hands play with your hair with more intent.

"Fuck-you sure know how to suck a dick, don't you?" He tucked some behind your ear, making you look up at him "Who taught you that?"

"You-da-daddy." Jumbled delivery thanks to the cock in your mouth.

"Sorry couldn't hear you."

"da-daddy" You tried, but sadly coming out more like 'dabby' thanks to the 5 inch obstruction in your throat.

The palms by your ears tighten, "good" It was almost like an extended sigh, "You gonna take it? Tap me if it's too much, yah?" Serious and caring, you nod.

"Yes" You respond to the eyebrow raise, "Yes daddy."

"Good little thing, aren't you?" Another tuck of your hair, and he pulled your head back in opposition to his hips going forward. He was using you clearlessly, not yet pushing you down as deep as he could, but rather just enjoying your lightness.

The room enters a soundtrack of hisses and hums, some slurps and some groans.

"I told you to get yourself off." It wasn't rude but you felt like you were being told off. Your heart pinged in your chest.

It was annoying how good it felt. Yes your knees stung and the carpet has turned into staples but who cared. The hands behind your ears making you deep throat him were heaven, the foot under your clit was heaven, Eddies musky smell was heaven.

Hums and hisses turned into the sound of fabric rubbing and small 'fuck's and 'shit's. And at this rate the streams of dribble coming off your chin and too the floor was definitely anything but disgusting.

Looking up at him and seeing him looking down, heaven too. "Gonna cum in your mouth." You really couldn't help the whorish whine. "Don't swallow it."

Something about that single demand got you were you needed it too. The swelling between your legs seemed to his its peak, the sheen of sweat tripped and your body felt like it was burning. Finger burring into his thighs, tummy tensed: you came over his foot, eyes rolled into the back of your skull.

Eddie using this as the perfect moment to use you. Seeing a moment where you'd given him your everything, he gripped you harder and thrusted deeply into your throat.

Still in your post orgasm haze, the 2 boney hands drag you up by your arm pits, a leg helps keep you stood. "Open." You couldn't even see him at the moment, but you knew behind the black was a man staring at you with all his love.

So you did as he told. Mouth open, cum threatening to spill, "Good, swallow." There was a hand to your throat, and them butterflies danced again. And then there was a light press to your lips that helps bring your eyes back open.

Neither of you could help getting lost a bit in the other - this was a big step, a big new, a good thing too! Eddie broke your moment off and tucked you into his chest, coddling you.

"I love you"

"I-love- you too"

He laughed at your breathiness. "Can we have an actual conversation about this now"

"Gimme a minute- I think my brains all mush."

He laughed again and gave a kiss to your hair.

[fateisfiction]

Well, That Bites ...

Vampire!Shouta, (temporary)Werewolf!Hizashi, Human!Reader

Part 1 of ???

Hizashi is bitten by a werewolf and undergoing treatment to reverse the transformation, but in the meantime, Shouta needs a reliable blood source. You're a friend from school and aware of Shouta's condition and volunteer yourself as a temporary solution. It's decided you'll move in with them to make everything easier.

Eventual smut (but not in this part)

Part 2

Shouta isn't the stereotypical posh Victorian vampire people expect when they find out he's a vampire. Sure, he’s a quiet night owl and fairly reclusive, but the ruffled collars and red velvet-lined coffins just aren't his vibe. He sleeps in a bed. He can absolutely walk in sunlight, he just needs extra SPF protection or else he’ll break out in an allergic reaction. (Not to mention the bright sunlight is absolutely exhausting.) And yes, he does drink blood.

And that's part of the problem. Ever since the incident with that one villain in the park, Hizashi's blood has tasted … bad. And that's where you come in.

A friend of theirs since highschool, you’ve been aware of Shouta's condition for a while. You know from experience that a starving vampire is a danger to the very people you’ve all sworn to protect. So you offer your own neck (or wrist) for Shouta, at least until they can figure out what's going on with Hizashi.

It's only a matter of days until the tests come back revealing that Hizashi has contracted lycanthropy. It's curable, but the treatment is a year-long regimen, and it's expected that it will take even longer for the taste to fully leave his system. The important thing is that it was caught early and he's already receiving treatment.

After some discussion, and a rather complicated trial period, it's decided that you’ll move in with them for the time being. The guest room has been made up and repainted in a color of your choice, your furniture and belongings moved to storage, and you're settling into your new home, getting used to the new routine of living with the boys.

Things are fine the first week or so. You have the run of the house with Hizashi busy juggling his many jobs and Shouta spending most evenings grading papers while you watch TV. It's easy enough to tell when Shouta is getting hungry. He lingers in doorways, staring, and you can feel the hair on the back of your neck stand on end.

He hesitates, not wanting to ask, to trouble you for a bite. But he's hungry, and you taste so good. In the beginning he offered to use a butterfly needle and looked horrified when you joked that it wouldn’t do anything for your public image to turn you into a literal walking juice box.

Eventually you settle into a pattern. Whenever you feel his hungry eyes on you, your arm raises almost involuntary offering your wrist to him. You still wince every time his fangs sink in. The sharp sting quickly soothed by the mild numbing effects of his venom.

He often winds up sitting on the couch with you during his feedings. Limbs curled around you protectively while you watch a show or movie together. Letting out a satisfied hum, he’s careful not to waste a drop of your precious blood. He licks away a stray rivulet before placing a kiss on the already healing bite.

The process is draining, in more ways than one. On more than one occasion, he’s had to carry you off to bed afterward, tucking you in and letting you sleep. He always leaves a glass of water and a snack pack of cookies for when you wake up.

Hizashi's first full moon is unpleasant, but he's grateful that he doesn't have to go through it alone. Thankfully the medications prevent any physical transformation, but he gets really clingy. Leading up to the full moon, he goes into full den mother mode. The fridge is overstocked with snacks and drinks. He hovers, constantly checking in on you and Shouta. Piles of blankets and pillows are amassed in designated cuddle areas, each of the bedrooms, his basement studio, and of course the living room.

An entire corner of the living room has become a permanent pillow fort. The cozy space is filled with bean bags and fluffy blankets. He designated the space as his your “nest,” and every night, like clockwork, he herds you and Shouta into the fort just in time for a late night snack. Sprawling his lanky body across the two of you as he enforces mandatory cuddle time, taking care to ply you with snacks and drinks while Shouta snags a bite for himself. You have to hold back a giggle when he starts kicking his leg whenever Shouta runs his fingers through Hizashi's hair.

You’ve taken it upon yourself to wash the blankets weekly, letting in fresh air to air out the house while the boys are busy at work. Hizashi can't help it, but there's a distinctly dog-like smell filling the space now. You can't help but notice he looks sad whenever you ask him to help you put the fort back together once they're all clean.

It's not until Shouta drops a few tactful mentions about how the sweater you're wearing smells like Hizashi as he snuggles into you, or how Hizashi would love to see the two of you like this, all wrapped up in his favorite blanket, that it dawns on you. It's Hizashi's way of marking out his territory while trying to still give you space of your own. When Hizashi's comes home on laundry day the following week to find everything just where he left it, he’s all smiles as he sweeps you up into a big hug, absolutely spoiling you with attention.

Over time, the two of them become increasingly protective of you. For Shouta, there's a level of intimacy that comes with regular feedings. A bond that grows stronger the longer you’re with them, until the idea of you leaving when Hizashi is back to normal fills him with an irrational anger. To Hizashi, you're a part of his pack. You've even started to wear his clothes around the house.

On the rare occasion that the three of you all have a day off together, you find yourself sandwiched between them as they preen over you. Hizashi checking to make sure that Shouta's bites are healing nicely and not leaving any noticeable scarring, and Shouta massaging anywhere he can reach. He subtly takes note of your muscle tone, mentally creating a training plan to keep you in shape since you’ve had to cut back, your body still getting used to these new arrangements.

You have a close call responding to a villain attack one day and when Shouta and Hizashi get the call, they're rushing to the hospital. You wake up to Shouta hunched over, head resting next to yours on the pillow as the machines beeping around you track your vitals. You can tell from the darker-than-usual circles under his eyes that he was worried. Hizashi comes in carrying two paper coffee cups, perking up when he sees your eyes are open. You motion for him to stay quiet, wanting Shou to get some much-needed sleep.

You're discharged from the hospital later that evening with instructions to start taking an iron supplement. Shouta curses under his breath. Your iron levels are fine. He should know. He’s been carefully managing your diet since you moved in, making sure you're getting all the nutrients you need. All the nutrients he needs.

You spend the next week assuring the boys that you're fine. Hizashi's cuddle pile moves from the living room to your bedroom, the entire room turned into a comfortable nest. You noticed that they’ve started sleeping on the floor, almost as if they can't bear to be away from you. Shouta pulls you into his lap while he's grading, propping his chin on your shoulder as he looks over the assignments. When you get a bit restless, he wraps his arms around you, shoving his face into the crook of your neck. The sensation of his cool fangs against the sensitive skin of your neck send a shudder through your body, but you know he won't bite you.

You can't stand seeing them sleep on your floor. The morning brings a symphony of pops and cracks as they stand up, so when you realize they're not going to be giving up this new habit, you ask if they would rather sleep in the bed. When you move to sleep on the floor they're horrified. Where are you going? There's more than enough room for the three of you.

It doesn't take long to get used to the new sleeping arrangements. At first you were worried that you were coming between them, but Shouta assures you that there's nothing to worry about. Compared to him, Hizashi’s almost unnaturally warm, and while that can be an issue in the heat of summer, it also means you’ll never have to worry about the cold, and of course he's a cuddler. They can just set the AC a few degrees cooler to compensate anyway.

As for coming between them, Shouta and Hizashi had a few ideas, but they're gentlemen. They would never force you into anything you weren't comfortable with. Granted, after waking up on more than a few occasions with Hizashi's morning wood pressed firm to your back, only for the two of them to quickly excuse themselves off to their own bedroom, it was pretty clear that your presence wasn't detrimental to their relationship. In fact, judging by the sounds you pretended not to hear coming from the next room, thing were pretty damn great between them.

---

There's a chance I'll rewrite this and it'll become a full fic and if I do, it'll be super slow burn.

[beansprean]

My Familiar’s Ghost part 37

Masterpost

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1a. Close shot of ghost Guillermo and Nandor sitting on the floor of the attic, Nandor having muscled himself between Guillermo and the 80s crap box. Nandor has one hairy leg stretched out on the floor and the other tucked underneath, his hair now freed from the turban, loose and curly around his shoulders. Guillermo is sitting with his arms around his ghostly tail, pulled to his chest, and drops his head, embarrassed. He says, '...I'm sorry...' Nandor is turned away from him, one hand lifting the flap on the 80s crap box to peer inside. 1b. Close up on Guillermo from Nandor's POV as he curls in on himself to bury his face in his crossed arms over his knees, head turned slightly so his pained eyes and flushed cheeks are visible over his elbow. The wraith cloak drips over his shoulders like a comforting hand. He continues, 'I really thought that was going to work and I wouldn't have to...deal with the consequences.' 1c. Zoom out, close up of Nandor in the foreground as he rummages through the box. Distracted, he replies, 'Yes, it is quite awkward.' Guillermo glares daggers into the back of his head from his curled-up position. 1d. Reverse shot. Nandor turns back toward Guillermo with a hesitant smile, holding up a yellow walkman and gesturing to it with his other hand. He starts, 'You know, there's some pretty cool stuff in here-' Guillermo interrupts, uncurling to gesture angrily with his hands, glaring forward into nothing: 'What am I supposed to do now?!'

2a. Front shot of both side by side. Guillermo tosses his arms straight down, exasperated, and rants, 'I genuinely don't know what my unfinished business could be if it wasn't...that.' Nandor lowers the walkman to his lap and clutches at it with both hands, watching Guillermo with a small frown. 2b. Close up of Nandor's hands opening the lid of the walkman, revealing a handmade tape inside. The top sticker says 'To Nadja' in curling blue script, but Nadja' has been crossed out and replaced with 'gail' in awkward red handwriting. The bottom sticker says, in the same blue cursive, 'love songs for my baby' with a few hearts drawn on. Nandor proposes, '...Perhaps you have unspoken feelings for some other vampire?' 2c. Close up on Guillermo letting out a snort of laughter. He replies, 'No. Who would that even be?' Nandor is in extreme closeup in the foreground, turning his head away from Guillermo in flustered irritation. He shoots back, 'Well, I don't know! Humans are full of flighty emotions like that!' 2d. Shoulders up of them both side by side. Nandor turns his head back to Guillermo, walkman clutched to his chest with both hands, and leans forward accusingly, intersecting slightly with Guillermo's intangible shoulder. He continues, 'Always falling in love with the first person you see in a Panera Bread or in England or at a gymnasium-' Guillermo looks up at him, amused, and raises an eyebrow, pointing out 'That last one was you.' Nandor dismisses this, replying, 'As I said.' /end ID

[clumsiestgiantess]

My second prompt for the @gtgotcha4gaza fundraiser!

This prompt was donated by @dekameter who asked for an AU where their OC DekaBot gets an update that unexpectedly goes awry!

He arrived in the largest box I’d ever seen.  DekaBot — the world’s most advanced helping android!  …supposedly.  He’s still new tech, yet to be released to the public, so it hasn’t exactly been proven.  That’s my job.

As a backer of the project since the beginning, I’d been given an early release of the DekaBot model.  On paper, I took the job of watching him for any glitches in the system.  In reality, I just wanted to meet him!  The bright green accents on his hair and clothing shimmered and flashed in the light as I hoisted him upright out of the box and turned him on.

He was such a helpful and thoughtful guy, even if I were paying attention to the serious part of my job, I wouldn’t have much to report.  Which is why, about a month after receiving him, he was already approved for a new update.  If the update went well, he would move on to release all over the world!  If not, well…  Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that.

Sitting him down in the stand he was sent in, I make sure he has a strong connection — that both the plug in his back and the one in the wall are secure.  He smiles at me reassuringly, “It’ll be fine!  What could possibly happen to such new tech?”  Honestly, it’s because he is such new tech that I’m so worried about how the update will go.  I don’t want DekaBot to worry, though.  So, I put on my calmest smile and leave him to update.

Minutes later I get a notice on my phone that the update had started.  However, just as I settle down, a loud thud echoes from the other room.  DekaBot!  I rush to the door just as he turns to it.  “It- Something fell off the shelf onto the cord; the connection broke!”  Sure enough, the cord sat limply on the ground, the other end tugged out of his back by one of the books that had fallen.

“The update!” I gasp, “Did it finish?  Are you feeling ok?”  He blinks, taking a slow walk around the room.  “The update didn’t finish, but I’m sure it’s-”  As he speaks, a strange metallic groan rumbles through his android body.  “Fine..?”

I yelp and slam my hands over my head at the thundering BANG of machinery beginning to grow.  This new update in particular gave DekaBot the ability to become several feet bigger in order to do a wider range of tasks.  However, he seemed to be growing at a far faster rate.  The update had given him the coding to grow, but had been cut off before relaying what was needed to stop.

First he’s only a few feet taller — he looks around the room confusedly, unaware of what the update had done.  By the time his head bumps against the ceiling, however, he can tell something is wrong.  “This.. isn’t what’s supposed to happen, is it?” he asks warily, hand reaching up to brace himself.  “Wait, don’t-!”  The spot on the ceiling where his hand falls cracks under his weight.  He flinches away from it and apologizes immediately, watching a few pieces of it crumble down to the floor.

“I- I’m sorry!  I didn’t mean to break that!” DekaBot gasps, “I don’t seem to understand what’s happening…”  He’s trying to keep his composure the best he can, but I can tell by the waver in his voice that he’s frightened.  “It’s alright,” I try to assure him, gently placing my hand over his. “We‘ll figure out some way to reverse this, I promise.  Just try to stay still.”  Both of us stare at the little interaction in awe; my hand is only as big as his palm, and it’s slowly getting smaller.  No, he’s getting bigger.

The whole ceiling begins to crack as DekaBot tries to adjust.  He’s curled up with his knees tucked beneath him and his back pressed into the ceiling above.  I duck and flinch as more and more things begin to collapse.  The floor groans and the walls bend — more cracks appear and spread across the whole room like spiderwebs strung up by invisible spiders.  

Slowly but surely DekaBot continues to grow.  His expression shifts from frightened to guilty as he recognizes the amount of damage he’s doing to my home.  There’s less and less space to dodge debris as he fills the room until…  

“Look out!”  A hunk of drywall comes crashing down over my head.  I duck, expecting the worst.  However, only dust billows around me.  Slowly pulling my head from my arms, I gasp at the sight above me.  DekaBot’s hand hovers just overhead, blocking everything from crumbling on top of me; it’s just larger than my torso now.  Suddenly, his hand lowers — still-growing fingers curling around my midsection.

“What are you doing?!” I cry out, shoving at the massive appendage.  My fear dulls as I turn to him, looking even more guilty than before.  “I.. can’t save the house, but I can save you.”  He pulls me tightly to his chest, curling up protectively as his body grows so big it can easily shield me from all sides.  The horrible snapping and crushing of the building collapsing becomes dulled by the rushed whirring sound of his mechanical heart.

Now I can only tell how big he’s growing by the shape of his hand against me.  I slip lower and lower in his fist until only my head is left above it.  It’s a frightening sensation, terrifying even.  All of my limbs are pinned down too strongly for me to move.  However, I don’t doubt that DekaBot will do whatever he can to ensure I stay safe.

The groaning of warping metal finally comes to a halt at its maximum size.  The fingers around my body slowly open — leaving me on his flat palm.  “Are you alright?” DekaBot asks nervously, bringing me carefully to his face.  “I- I am.  Are you?”  He nods slowly, “I think so…  Did I grow?  How?”  “It has something to do with the new upda-”  I gasp, shoving at his fingers.  “The update!  They’ll take you away when they find out how much damage you’ve caused!  You have to get out of here!”

His eyes widen; quickly, he glances around as if someone would snatch him up right then and there.  Not that anyone could, not with his new height.  “You won’t send me back?” DekaBot asked, confused.  “I mean, thank you, but.. isn’t that your job?  I don’t want you to get in trouble and-”  He pauses as his hand shifts slightly, taking in how small I am in it before glancing up at my destroyed home.  “I don’t want to hurt you.”

DekaBot bends over to put me down, but I shake my head, clinging to his fingers.  “You’re my friend, I wouldn’t just hand you over to them!  What happened wasn’t your fault.  You shouldn’t be recalled because of something out of your control.”  I could practically see the literal gears in his head turning.  “Come on, let’s get out of here before someone sees you.”

Thankfully, there’s a stretch of woods behind my yard where he can hide.  I nod to it, assuring him things will be alright.  I’d find a way to fix him somehow.  But until then, he’d have to keep hidden.  Cupping his fingers more closely to me, DekaBot steps into the forest and the both of us disappear as the last pieces of the house crumble away behind us.

[eyeslikewatercoolers]

WIP Wednesday- reverse sugarbaby au

Based off of this post that led me to a Sashnetra idea last week. Thank you to @sweetlikesunflowersandhoney for brainstorming with me

Anetra never intended to live her life as a social media starlet. If it was up to her, she’d compete in taekwondo until her body would make her stop. Then, she would coach until retirement. 

But that’s not how it worked out for her. She wasn’t bad at taekwondo, she was one of the top national competitors. It was getting scouted by an agent from a modeling agency that turned her career around. 

“You’re hot, and women’s sports are gaining a lot of traction right now.” the agency told her. “Just one photoshoot, that’s all we ask.”

One small photoshoot eventually became an Instagram account half a million followers and constant events and meetings with the press. They moved her from Las Vegas to Los Angeles as soon as her schedule got too packed for taekwondo.

After a few short years of reaching fame, another event was winding down to an end. It was for her new line of leggings with a brand she’s worked with before. Her face on the promotional banner was getting folded into a box as all the guests were gone. 

She watched the caterers take back all the food to the small kitchen in the venue. Her driver got a flat tire and was running late.

Anetra wandered down a nearby hallway that led to the kitchen storage. She stopped when she saw the lead caterer dispersing envelopes to the rest of them. 

“Here’s everyone’s schedule for next weekend’s charity gala at the downtown Hilton. It’s going to take a few hours for us to set up, so be there on time at 8 AM, sharp.” the lead caterer instructed. 

One woman with a long dark ponytail raised her hand slightly, “I asked off for next weekend, I’m taking my daughter to the zoo that day,”  she explained. 

The lead caterer shrugged, “Irene said that she was helping her sister move, so I needed someone to work her shift,” The woman’s eyes were looking at the floor as she nodded, “You can take your kid another day,” she said as she continued to talk about the gala instead. 

Anetra felt a pang in her chest as she moved out of view from the employees. This stranger somehow moved something in her. Maybe it was knowing her mom wouldn’t feel the same remorse, or maybe it was something else. 

The caterers left the huddle, moving to start their nightly jobs. Anetra peeked around the corner to see the same woman tuck the envelope in her purse on the table. 

“Maybe next time, Kerri,” she said with a small smile, standing alone.

“Sasha, can you start mopping?” another voice called. 

The woman nodded, “Yeah, I’m coming!” she called before leaving for the other room. 

Anetra knew what she needed to do. Just a simple random act of kindness for a stranger she’ll never meet again. 

[d-dixonimagines]

would love if u did the “can you walk” prompt with Daryl, maybe reader being the one hurt? u write him so perfectly 🤭💕 thank u!!

Absolutely! And thank you!! I love writing for him so I try to get it as close as I can! ^_^

Prompt: "Can you walk?"

For some reason the day was just not agreeing with you. From the moment you woke up, everything just seemed to work against you. It had gotten to a ridiculous point where you considered going back to bed and seeing if it would reverse something, but unfortunately there was just too much that needed to be done.

Towards the end of the day, you and a small group of people went on a short run to see what kind of food or items were left lying around in near by stores and other buildings. It had been blazing hot for the majority of the day and there was finally a cool enough breeze to actually enjoy the walk.

Daryl had been keeping a close eye on you all day as well, but mostly every time you managed to catch his gaze, he was smiling and smirking and putting very little effort into hiding his amused expressions as he witnessed you dealing with all of your unfortunate luck. It just prompted you to glare at him in response, which only amused him more.

Daryl was something else. He was usually the quiet loner one who preferred his space and isolation. He didn't seem to like people very much, and secretly that was something that you potentially had in common. You could tolerate them and you were nice and kind and welcoming, but you just didn't go out of your way to approach others unless it was a task or something you really needed.

There weren't too many people who didn't bug you, and Daryl was no exception! Sometimes he had moments where he was like the obnoxious friend your siblings hung out with and would do annoying things to try and get your attention because maybe they had a crush and didn't know how to deal with it, or maybe they were just generally obnoxious.

Daryl was less obvious about his teasing. He would just make sarcastic comments or some face or even participate in small pranks, though those didn't happen too frequently.

Once you and your group arrived at the third stop, you all rested for a bit outside. There wasn't too much of a rush to get back, and it had been a bit of a climb so you all took a moment to catch your breath. Daryl and a couple of the others rested against the window of the building while you stayed standing, swatting your arm to try and warn off some kind of bug that had been targeting you for the past three minutes.

The incessant buzzing was starting to get on your nerves, and it didn't help the fact that you hated bugs with a passion. You had gotten better at tolerating them, but you still wanted nothing to do with them. But this one particular bug, some giant beetle just wouldn't leave you alone. You moved from your spot and swung your arm again, making contact with it with the back of your hand.

Daryl sat there watching you fight for your life against this bug, trying a bit harder to hide his amused expression this time. If the guy ever laughed, you were sure you'd be hearing him laughing until his face was blue. The beetle came back once more, buzzing past your ear and causing you to let out a frustrated cry as you smacked at the side of your face to get it away from you.

"Can we go inside now? I'm so tired of this bullshit!" You spoke out in irritation, making your way inside regardless if they were ready or not. It didn't take long for them to follow. You each went down the different isles to see if there was anything salvageable.

Scanning the shelves as best as you could, you took a second glance at a hidden treasure that was tucked away on a top shelf. Chocolate was a rare delicacy these days, and you weren't going to risk the chance of passing it up. The chances of it already being gone was pretty high, but you were holding on to the slim chance of getting lucky.

The box was just out of your reach, and no matter how hard you tried, they were still out of your reach. "Screw it.." you mumbled to yourself, gripping onto the shelves and getting ready to climb up them to get it. "I wouldn't do that." You heard Daryl's voice. "It'll only take two seconds.." You insisted, continuing on with your mission to retrieve the chocolate. You stepped onto the lower shelf and gripped one of the higher ones, getting ready to hoist yourself up.

With one quick motion, you lunged up a bit and reached for the box, sliding it forward until you were able to get a grip on it. As you gripped the box, you managed to lose your hold on the shelf and stumbled backwards, most of your weight landing on your ankles as you tried to catch yourself to avoid any serious injury and landing back on the hard floor.

Everything happened too quickly for Daryl to react fast enough to catch you, but was able to make sure that none of the shelves toppled over on top of you. You let your head fall back onto the floor with a sigh of relief that it didn't end much worse than it did. "If you're going to say 'I told you so', just don't." You spoke before he had a chance to say anything.

"Wasn't gonna say that.." He was quickly by your side, taking in your state and making sure there wasn't any visible injuries that needed to be tended to. "Can you walk?" There was only minor shooting pains charging through your body. Your ankles throbbed slightly but you didn't think it was anything serious. "I think so. Can't guarantee about tomorrow, though."

Daryl shook his head and held his hand out, leaning forward to help you up. Moving slowly, you got to your feet, assessing the situation further. You would definitely come out of that nice and bruised up, but also very chocolate happy. "Was it worth it?" "Mhm!" You smiled proudly, showing him the chocolate bar. "You're insane." He smirked softly before turning around and heading out of the isle. "You say that now, but you're going to be jealous watching me eat this later."

The rest of the store was pretty much empty, with only a couple other finds, so they decided to call it and head back to camp. You had a slight limp, but you didn't care. With the day that you had, you counted this as a huge victory!

[moon1ee]

joel and grian in last life, before and after death: a fic

(from the point of view of grian considering joel, cross posted on ao3)

before:

the acidic smell of redstone smarting your nose, the shrill shriek of the other red name in your ear. you're the only ones left at the end of the world. his voice rises and blurs with the whining of the dogs. redstone has climbed its way into your throat and tongue in reverse, from the gut, from the oozing wound in your stomach. it grits your teeth for you, tenses your jaw. rocks turned pebbles turned dust, turned sand, turned ashes. you dig your feet into rock. there is red under your fingernails.

there is red in front of you, and a man like a sick dog. he laughs like an anvil falling, the metallic clang before the crunch of bones. it digs itself in your ears and cocoons there, content even as you aren't. your teeth ache. your fingers skitter around the lever.

a warning call. his name, over and over. let's blow something up together. it might just end your life. the whites of his startled animal eyes flash, the whites of his teeth. paper thin skin, undertones of sickness like crusted blood under fingernails.

your fingers are careful origami cranes, wishbirds crafted out of paper out of sugarcane you cracked someone open over. crack him open and find a wishbone inside like a fish, snap it in half and swallow it too. muscle memory keeps your shadow on the lever. muscle memory keeps just your shadow on the lever.

let's blow something up together. it might just end your life. his whine echoes off the walls of this crater-before-the-crater you've dug, too pitched and not pitched enough. it does not roll up and down as a dune luring a mirage, but cuts off and becomes a jagged cliff face. it grates.

the whole is greater than the sum of its parts. you are part him and part someone else. gestalt says you cannot view anything in isolation. what does that make you?

eighty percent chance the box opens and the cat lays dead, or you cut the noose around the horse's back. you've played with worse odds. too used to testing things to destruction, to carving out room for the shattering of something before its even begun. you hate rot and illness as you seethe over all growing things that live past their time. dragging a corpse facedown in the dirt.

it is his voice that stops you. you're the only ones left at the end of the world.

you tell him, eighty percent chance. he laughs like he believes you.

after:

the bizarre echo of the explosion, leaving confused quiet in its wake, the jingle of an ice cream truck receding. syrupy ghost lollies dripping over your fingers. wide-eyed sticky child, cheeks round in disbelief, looking at the carnage that wasn't.

it tastes like a wither shriek cut short over soul sand, and speaking of there he is again, shattering the sound barrier with his disapointment. there is another taste, almost unrecognizable in its familiarity, burning in your teeth and throat. even as you scramble out and reach for your sap-sticky crossbow you recognize that the livewire for the taste was first the smell, the smattering of gunpowder cracking over sand. your disapointed yell had echoed over the hills then. now you let him do that part for you.

above, the dawn masquerades as dusk. below, you masquerade as the living.

you die with his name lodged in your throat tucked away neatly with not like this.

rising to watch, smoke coalescing, as they take him down in painful, quick hacks as he foams like a diseased dog, barking swallowed by a surprised yelp.

you should've just killed him.

// (if you liked this, you might also enjoy my fic on grian and joel in limited life)

[darkworkcourier]

Hi yes I've been enchanted and ensnared by @cyber-nya's Monster 141 AU, so I rolled around in that sandbox like a heathen.

---

Dr. Adler's easy to figure out. Price picks up on it the second he walks into the infirmary on his weekly blood pack acquisition mission. Rather than the usual overly-sterile, Clorox smell, he's hit with a scent wave that screams herb garden. It makes him blink hard, reeling back, covering his nose with his wrist.

Once he recovers a little, he sees stacks of cardboard boxes, all marked up in German—Zauberbücher, Kristalle, Tränke (Zerbrechlich!), among many, many others. Adler stands in the middle of her cardboard castle, holding up two little vials up to the light. She frowns, taps on one, and tilts her head when it... changes color, turning a deep mauve.

Price wavers on whether to leave her to whatever it is she's doing, or interrupt her. He decides on the latter, mostly because he's starving, and they still have another week and a half before he can get anything fresh.

"Doc?" he tries.

"I heard you come in, Captain Price," she says, not bothering to turn her head. The vial in her left hand changes color again to a fetching chartreuse. "One moment. These are very volatile."

"Like exploding kind of volatile, or...?"

"Volatile as in prone to either reverse the order of your internal organs, or potentially cure a hangover." She pauses, squints. "I can't remember which one does what."

That seems incredibly important. Price presses himself against the wall by the door, all too happy to make a break for it if it means his small intestine won't come out his nose. Not that he uses his small intestine for much these days, but he'd rather not experience that.

In the end, she seems to decide which potion does what, setting the chartreuse vial down on her desk, and tucking the other vial (deceptively clear) in a cast iron chest that looks like it was probably made in the medieval period. She locks it twice.

Once that's done, she sighs and turns to face him. "Sorry about that, Captain. What can I do for you?"

"Just swung by to pick up, uh, supplements."

Dr. Adler raises one dark brow. "The blood packs, you mean."

He didn't remember telling her about his status, but seeing her turn their formerly boring infirmary into a witchy apothecary makes him think that it wouldn't matter if he told her or not. "Yeah," he says, rather lamely.

She nods, dusting her hands off on her lab coat, before walking over to the mini-fridge. "Do you have a preference?" she asks.

"No," he replies. "Learned not to be picky."

At that, she suddenly stands up, abandoning the fridge empty-handed. Price watches her with suspicion as she approaches her fortress of boxes with the expression of a woman on a mission. Her hands hover in front of her, going over the boxes like a human metal detector, before finally landing on one of the boxes marked Tränke. She carefully moves it to her desk, rifling through its contents (which sound alarmingly fragile) before lifting a squat, rotund little glass full of wine-dark liquid. As soon as she pops the cork, the smell hits Price like a bus.

Fae blood. Fucking hell, he'd know that stuff anywhere.

Adler winds through her labyrinth of boxes toward him, and it takes a hell of a lot of self control not to rip the bottle out of her hand. Instead, she politely hands it to him before returning her hands to her coat pockets.

"Try that," she says. "It's not completely fresh, and I won't be able to refill all my stock for at least a few weeks, but it should help."

She doesn't need to tell him twice. Price drinks the bottle's contents in one go, only vaguely thinking that maybe he should have asked how much he could drink. Dr. Adler's expression doesn't change, even when the bottle's completely dry, so he assumes it's fine. And it's good. Fae blood is sweet on his tongue, a shimmery white wine to a human's dark claret. It fills him up, gets his head clear, saturates all the colors in the room, and makes his peripheral vision glow. In short, it's fucking awesome.

"Oh," he says. "That's..."

"Stop by when you need more," she cuts in with a shrug. "I have a few other varieties. Some are harder to come by than others, so I'll have to be a bit frugal with those. Give it a couple weeks and I should have better stock."

"Thanks, Doc," Price replies, a little in awe. He hands her the bottle, knowing if he keeps it any longer, he's going to break it open and lick up the remainder.

"Gern geschehen," Dr. Adler replies. She replaces the cork, then turns on heel and goes back to her boxes.

Price decides it's better to leave her be for now. But as he leaves, he gets why she came so highly recommended.

---

As easy as it is to figure out that Dr. Adler is their resident witch-on-call, it's stupid hard to identify what ever Carrion is.

When she leaves a room, the arguments get heated. Gaz swears up and down she's another kind of witch. Maybe a... flight one, if that's a thing. She's good at piloting, having, quoth he, "A weird relationship with gravity." That has to be a witch trait.

No, argues Soap. He smelled something on her, but it wasn't the same as the strange herb-earth-magic scent that follows in Dr. Adler's footsteps. No doubt she's not human, but it irks him with the same sensation of having a word on the tip of his tongue. He knows this. Shapeshifter, maybe? Some kind of weird changeling? But neither of those seem right.

"You sniffed her?" Gaz asks, incredulous.

"Not on purpose!" Soap retorts. "I just so happened to smell her when she walked by!"

"Creep," Gaz sagely confirms.

Soap responds by tackling Gaz with a decidedly dog-like growl.

For the next four weeks, the 141 puzzles over their pilot. She seems blissfully unaware of the way they stare at her, happily in her own little world. She sings to herself, preens when they compliment her after a flight, hops away in little dance steps after every mission.

Then a mission goes wrong.

They're across enemy lines, helo half-drowned in a river, a storm battering the landscape, desperation making monsters of all of them. Soap was the first to lapse, literally tearing through hostiles with otherworldly howls and snarls. Price rips open throats, pupils blown, jaw dripping with blood. Gaz pierces soft body after body with an impossibly-sharp sword, maw burning with embers as his secondary form threatens to come loose.

And Ghost— It's hard to argue with death incarnate, especially if you're on the debating team.

Everyone's so caught up in the fight, in the desperate high-stakes bloodbath, that they don't have time to check on their pilot. She got out of the crash, confirmed she was safe, and that was all.

But then Soap's pinned by gunfire, forced to crawl under rubble just to escape the onslaught. He pauses, paws burning into the mud underneath him, thinking on the best strategy to get through a wall of human hostility. During that dull roar of a lull, something catches his eye.

The first thing he thinks is that is a fucking huge bird.

The second thing isn't so much a thought as it is shock at the sight of a talon the size of a pickax piercing a man's skull like a melon. Wings furiously beat, the sound like a snarl of thunder, and a high-pitched shriek makes Soap's sensitive ears ache.

Only then does he register that it's Carrion. Their Carrie, their happy-go-lucky beam of sunlight pilot who sings made-up songs and dances like a moron when she thinks no one's watching—that Carrie is leaving gouges in their enemy like they're nothing. Her arms are massive wings, black and white tapering to red (just like the bearded vulture on her helmet, and now Soap just feels stupid), legs now scaled and ending in those deadly talons. Her head's the same, except her hair's loose from its braid and falling around her shoulders in a windblown mess, and her mouth opens to reveal two rows of razor-sharp teeth.

She's a fucking harpy.

Soap watches in awe for a moment more before realizing she's still by herself. As badass as it is, he clips around the corner of the rubble pile to attack the group from the opposite end, meeting her in the middle. Once their enemy is just a smear in the mud, he finally looks up at her, huffing once in gratitude.

"No problem," she says, smiling with her wicked teeth. Her voice is higher, crackling like lightning. It's awesome.

Their mission wraps up quick after that, a massacre split five ways, fur and feathers truly flying.

Once they're back at base, beaten and battered but otherwise whole, Carrion slinks away to the showers. The rest of the 141 leaves her be, allows her a private moment to get herself back in order.

And Gaz sums it all up with a firm, "That was badass."

Everyone hums, growls, or hisses in agreement.

[thewritersaddictions]

Request/Drabble: (TWD) The Wanderers- Maggie Greene: You + Me

All Maggie has been thinking about is the toy she bought to use on her beautiful sexy girlfriend. It’s a boring a hole into her brain, she can imagine your moans and the way your nicely manicured fingernails will feel dragging down her back as you pull her closer to you to feel her. To ground yourself in your orgasm. She only hopes that the clock will tick by faster as this stupid job so she can get up and out of her office and back home to you.

The toy sits tucked behind the drivers seat wrapped in a discreet black bag because Maggie had ended up going to one of those 18+ stores that you see on the side of the highway as you drive. The other part of the toy is already shipped and has already arrived at the house, and that’s to is discreetly disquieted as something of just an ordinary package. Maggie slams the door shut to her car and waits a moment. Breathing in deeply once and out slowly. She puts the car into reverse and listens to music has the fills only a small part of her distracted mind. 

You on the other hand have been staring at the damn box that’s sitting on your island in the middle of the kitchen. It’s got Maggie’s name on it, but a part of you just wants to open the box. You both have agreed that you wanted to add something to your sex life you hadn’t skipped a beat when you brought up the fact that you would love to have her fuck you. Not with her tongue; her fingers; or a toy you already had stashed away for a rainy day. You wanted something new, you wanted to give all your power away, wanted her to take you and pin you down to the bed as she fucked you hard just like you deserved it.

You eye the box unwilling to open the brown package as you order pizza from your phone. The pizza delivery gets there just in time for Maggie to be pulling into the driveway. She looks tense, her shoulders are bunched up by her ears, and the RBF has taken hold of your girlfriend’s rather beautiful features. You thank the man that has deilivered your food, and leave the door open for your girlfriend.

The slamming of the front door should tell you that her day was like shit and that shes running on fumes, so you stay quiet while getting plates out for dinner. The smell of pizza whafts through the house, Maggie wants to say "Pizza again" But she doesn't. She can see the drain that sits behind your eyes and how you've changed clothes. A fluffy set of pj's sit on your curves.

The pj's are laying on the floor, and the pizza boxes sits in the trash bin outside. Y/n is laying so perfectly on the bed, it had started off as cheese and marina sauce kisses. Turned into greasy hands that groped at the edges of each other clothes and skin.

"Fuck you're so beautiful." Maggies whispers into the skin of her girlfriend. Eveything feels hieghten, like they haven't this way in a long time. Work taking up most of their time. The two of them are in the playing mood now, Maggie is still halfway dresses but you are laying on the bed stark naked. She loves how you will undress for her in a matter of seconds never once having to be told.

The inside of your thighs are covered in purple hickies, along with bite marks. You had begged her to mark you up. Even in the hot summer months you loved showing off that you were hers, and she loved knowing that everyone knew you were hers.

"I see you didn't open the package that arrived today." Maggie says as she stands up from between your aching thighs. You hums unable to think of words as your first ogasam wrecks through your body. "Such a good girl waiting for me to surprise you." Maggie mutters as she grabs that package off the bedroom side table. Your eyes light up when she pulls out a rather huge looking dildo. Had she been looking at your private search history becasue it seems like the one you had been eyeing for nearly two weeks. "Close your mouth unless you wanna use it." Maggie says pulling you out of your thoughts and back to reality. With your mouth shut you watch as Maggie rummage through thr side table drawers looking for something, and then she licks her lips. "Actaully… when I get back you better be on your knees." She tells you and then she off walking out of the bedroom. You scramble to get onto your shakey knees on the end of the bed.

You hear a few distant sounds but you can't figure out what they are, so you wait patiently. When Maggie finally does come back you can't help but moan at the sight of her. Her pants have been discarded and a strap on has replaced them. Her lace tights are the only peice of clothings she's got on. Your pussy aches for the dildo to slip in.

Within moments Maggie is standing in front of you with the strap on and dildo weighing heavy in front of your face. You swallow hard and wait for her okay to start. When she nods you take the first lick of many to the silicone dildo. It tastes of plastic but the eye contact you've got going on with Maggie washes over all of your senses. "Fuck we should have done this ages ago baby." Maggie tells you, her hand falling to your hair to pull you up closer on the dildo. Maggies has your gagging and spit dripping out of your motuh before long, and when the didlo falls from your mouth it's also dripping with your spit. "Think it's ready yet baby?" Maggie asks all sweetly. You nod with vigour as you rubs your thighs together.

"Come on then baby, get up to the bed so I can fuck you properly." Her words are always so dirty in the bedroom. She slaps your ass as your move around to the bed. You fall onto your elbows with your ass high in the air. "Lookin' so good like this baby. So fuckin' wet for me. You like suckin' my cock that much huh." Maggie tease, you feel the bed dip as Maggie gets behind you. Your breath trembles as you feel the tip of the cold but wet dildo play at your entrance.

The dildo is bigger then any other toy that you two play with, but it's not the girth of the toy that throws you its the feeling of Maggies warm soft skin slapping agasint yours. The sounds fills the room, and your ears. Pushing you further and further into a deep space of contentment.

With the first few thrusts out of the way, your pussy starts to flutter around the silicone. It's Maggies words that end up pushing you over the edge for the second time during the night. You weren't ready for the breeding kink that falls from her lips to your dazed ears.

"Look at this ass, shakin' as I fuck you so good" Maggie mutters as her hands grip at your hip bones. "Fuck I know you can be louder then that baby." Your moans fill the room alongside the skin slapping together. "Come on baby, squeezin' me so good I just know you wanna get all filled up." You moan and squeeze the sheets impossibly tighter. "Oh that's what you want huh, such a cum slut. Want me to breed your tight little pussy baby?" You moans and gush around the silicone dildo as your head falls into the white sheets.

Maggie continues to fuck your your over senstive clit, and pussy. Using you and abusing your pussy until your come for the a third time. It's not until your begging her, screaming forr her to stop does she slip the dildo out and collaspe next to you. She murmurs sweetly to you "Good girl takin' me so good." And kisses your forehead a few times before getting up to get some water and a warm washclothes to clean you up.

When she returns your falling asleep, but you don't let that stop the words that fall out. "We should that again." She laughs as she cleans up your thighs. "Yeah we should." Maggies agree, but when you add. "i wanna use it on you next time." Her eyes grow wide with lust and a belly eating fire.

Completed on: 01/07/24

Posted on: 01/09/24

The Wanderers-

[vlad-theimplier]

WIP Wednesday: Custos Custodium

In which Jensen acquires a lead and follows it into the bowels of Golem, with bonus aug practice and Czech jelly donuts. Get the recipe here (no, actually, I'm posting it).

“Jensen! Jensen, I cracked it!”

Jensen bolted upright in bed, blade half-extended, before he placed the voice. Chang was not the person he would have expected to call at… ugh, 0320. He shook his head in hopes that it would kickstart his brain. “What?” he demanded. “What did you crack?”

“The footage! The intellicam footage you gave me—I got it cleaned up. It was on this proprietary State Police surveillance software, see, and Smiley told me how they almost shot him over it, so I didn’t bother asking them for help. I basically had to reverse-engineer the whole file architecture to see whether I could build an index, and—”

“Chang. I get it.” Jensen scrubbed at his face and rolled out of bed. “It was hard. I’m impressed. What was on it that made you call me at this hour?”

Chang’s voice dropped to an intent whisper—Jensen could almost see him peering around the office in paranoid vigilance. “I don’t want to discuss it in the clear.”

“For Chrissake, Chang—”

“Besides, you’re gonna want to see it. Trust me.”

“Fine.” Jensen hung up, momentarily missing the old landline in his childhood living room: with the phone attached to one’s cerebral cortex, there was nothing to slam down. Maybe he could head-butt the table to approximate the feeling. Or, better yet, Chang.

The subway had stopped for the night, and it wouldn’t start up again until 0500. So he legged it across town, past the homeless Augs hunkered down in doorways and storage lockers, to a checkpoint where a sleepy cop waved him by with a glance at his badge. In Čistá, where he had the streets to himself, he practiced with the Icarus, skipping a cramped medieval city block at a time with a sizzle and a shower of golden sparks.

The first attempt ended in a faceplant, and he brushed himself off with a mortified look around to make sure the quarter was as somnolent as it seemed. But he quickly got the hang of it, bouncing up on his toes like he was stepping onto a curb as he hit the aug, and his boots skimmed above the cobblestones as he flew. Not seven leagues, not even close, but seven meters might come in pretty goddamn handy under the right circumstances. Getting a handle on the thing put him in a better mood, and he arrived at Praha Dovoz’ shuttered storefront much less grouchy, if severely peckish.

Rather than risk the front door at such a suspicious hour, Jensen slipped through the overgrown courtyard next to the store. Behind a privacy fence, a hidden intellicam guarded an unlocked window, with a sentry turret tucked away in the wall for backup. The elevator opened on a hushed and echoing TF29, so different from its usual buzz, much less the all-hands mayhem of the days after the bombing. Jensen checked by the coffee machine and struck gold: someone had brought in a box of koblihy the day before, and three of them remained. He scooped up the box and bit into one as he climbed the stairs—the pastry was going a bit stale, but there was nothing wrong with the jam inside.

It wasn’t the first time he’d scarfed down a donut in a police station at a godforsaken hour, either. Hell, it was practically nostalgic, even if American jelly donuts tended not to do apricot. He stuck his head through the door of Cybercrime’s fishbowl, brushing powdered sugar from his beard. “Chang,” he said. “Show me.”

[neonthewrite]

Lies Under Duress

Today's prompt is "Celebrating", and we are back with another installment of borrower Chase and his latest misadventure. Where we left off, he'd been caught by a human ... this one will continue right after where Almost a Thief finished off.

Forbidden Fruit Snacks | Fried Potatoes | Minnie’s Supply Run | Nailed It | Orange You Glad | Almost a Thief

~~~

Chase, dangling by the back of his jacket over a broad palm that was unfairly large when he really gave it any thought, found himself at a loss for words. That was rare. His sister would attest, getting him to shut up in the middle of any kind of situation was a miracle in itself.

But he really didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t get a word past the fear that had settled heavily in his chest, there to stay unless he managed a miraculous escape. In the course of trying to outdo Minnie’s latest solo supply run, he might have just ruined both their lives. Getting caught could mean the human might go looking for more like him. He probably wouldn’t catch Minnie … but she’d still be all alone.

He couldn’t focus for long on the fear and guilt. The human, getting over his initial shock, moved. More specifically, his hands moved, and that meant Chase moved too. He choked on a noise of surprise as he rose in the air with a sudden yank on his jacket, the hand beneath him rising along with him. His stomach fell to his toes as he rose, only for another sudden stop as he lifted before the human’s eyes (which meant he was around six feet in the air, not that Chase was worried about that at all).

“You’re … what are you,” the human murmured. His voice, even quieted, was all too intimidating and big. Chase pursed his lips and held up his hands in an approximation of a shrug. He doubted the actual answer would go over very well.

Yeah, hi, I’m just a guy. I’m on the short side is all. Just a totally average guy with totally normal strength relative to my body mass, and I’m definitely not waiting for my latent superpowers to come in.

He flinched when the grip on his jacket moved again, lowering him towards the waiting palm below. Chase kicked his legs and tried to fold into himself to avoid being dropped into that grip, but of course it didn’t stop the inevitable. He found himself deposited on a hand that dwarfed him by several times. He even felt the heavy heartbeat pulsing just beneath the thick skin.

The other hand didn’t retreat, though. A fingertip brushed over the top of his head, then nudged a shoulder. Though he leaned away from it and tried to swat it away, it propped under his arm instead. The human never yanked his arm up, but he did stare at the way it leaned on just a fingertip.

Part of him wasn’t all that surprised. If the roles were reversed, Chase would probably be fascinated and all too curious about such a tiny person found in his kitchen. Being on the small end of that situation, though, was unnerving. He jerked his arm back and tucked it close.

The human wasn’t all that discouraged. “Seriously, where did you come from? What’s going on here?” he asked, moving on to Chase’s leg instead. It was all too easy for him to pinch it in a finger and thumb, and Chase couldn’t hope to wriggle it free.

His vow of silence was never meant to last. “Come on, man,” he complained, tugging on his leg anyway. It was an awkward angle and he made no progress. “You just grab anybody’s leg when you first meet ‘em?”

The human paused, a thoughtful look in his eyes. “Okay, dude, you got a point there,” he admitted, freeing Chase’s leg. “But still. What were you doing in the oranges? You definitely weren’t there at the store.”

Chase barked out a laugh. The thought of living in a grocery store, surrounded by so much food but also so many different humans, was all too daunting. “No, I’m not the prize in the cereal box. Orange bag. Whatever.” Glancing up, he saw that the human still wore an expectant look.

Time to come up with a lie, then. Something to stall while he figured out how to get out of this situation. “Iiiiii waaaaas,” he drawled, glancing around the room to all the places he might be able to hide if he wasn’t on a giant hand. “I was celebrating.”

“Celebrating,” the human echoed, sounding intrigued. “Celebrating what?”

“Celebrating oranges. I’m all about, uh, fruit.” Chase might have slapped his forehead if not for the need to appear nonchalant. He’d never realized how hard it was to come up with convincing stories under duress. He flashed a grin anyway. “I was. Going to … throw a party?”

The human didn’t look convinced, which sucked, but also which wasn’t that surprising. “You were going to throw a party. In the bag of oranges. To celebrate the oranges.”

“You bet,” Chase said, his voice higher pitched than he expected. “That’s the long-short of it all. But you caught me in the act. Don’t blame you at all for sending me on my way empty handed. It’d make a ton of sense, this being your apartment and not mine and most people just kick unwanted guests out, right?”

The guy laughed at that, a short burst of noise that made Chase’s shoulders shoot up in alarm. “Okay, this is definitely not a normal ‘unwanted guests’ situation, though,” the human said. “You’re … you look just like … come on. You can’t expect me to believe this story. What’s really going on here?”

Chase put his hands up in yet another exasperated shrug. “Sorry to disappoint you, big guy. I’m a simple man, I see some fresh fruit, I get stoked.”

The human shook his head, though his amusement lingered. “Whatever, little dude. I think you have more going on,” he said, though he had looked away and didn’t look like he was expecting an actual answer.

Chase almost retorted anyway, but flinched as he realized the fingers nearby were curling closely. He balked away, but they stopped before closing over him, instead forming an arch nearby. After that, the human turned away from the counter, quickly enough that Chase had to hunch over against the feeling of motion.

It only took a couple stupidly-long strides to get to the table in the other half of the kitchen. While Chase watched, the human leaned over it and used his free hand to clear up some clutter, moving aside some papers, a bag of shopping that had not yet been unpacked to the various cupboards, and a plate with only a few crumbs leftover from breakfast. Once he had a clear spot, he sat down before it.

Chase thought the movement was bad while the human moved all that stuff around. The hand he was on suddenly dropping to the table was so much worse; he yelped and reached out in panic for anything to steady himself, finding nothing really except a wall of curved fingers.

“Chill, dude,” the human said, at least sounding genuinely concerned. He gave Chase a moment to realize he wasn’t falling to his death, before tilting his hand over the table. As Chase stumbled off the hand and fell to a seat on the open space on the table. Before he could orient himself, the human went on, a note of bemusement in his voice. “I’m not gonna hurt you. I swear. I just wanna talk, get the real answer to why you were sneaking around in my apartment.”

[lynlee494]

Master List

For the record, it was not the Winter Soldier who brought on the end of humanity. It was more of a group effort really.

And that clutz Murphy, a product of Hydra nepotism putting someone in a position they shouldn’t be in.

And now several years on Bucky has a lot of confusing memories, but at least the fast paced environment and literal walking nightmares means he doesn’t really have time to dwell too much on the more distant past.

In the end none of it mattered anyways.

Bucky is merely surviving, avoiding best he can the lingering human population and avoiding Empties when possible.

This task is going well, until he gets stuck with a small but fierce blonde named Steve. *Steve/Bucky ______________________________________________

**Currently tucked away while I finish the full story, heavy edits under way to improve** *WIP; *Pausing participation in events that involve long fics till complete - priority story as chapters return from editing. Bucky Barnes’s family is indebted to Alexander Pierce, a powerful man who has preyed on him and those like his family for decades. There are only a few years of service left to pay his debt, but recently Pierce's brute Rumlow has been escalating in his violence. Fearing the inevitable and with nowhere to actually go Pierce can’t reach, Bucky had begun to accept his fate.

Then Bucky’s luck turns when a persistent advertisement for an insanely affordable apartment in Bed-Stuy interrupts his browsing at a bakery, the shop close enough to pick up the free wi-fi from the Avenger’s Tower.

Maybe there is a chance.

Clint Barton has a surprise new tenant that he is pretty damn sure there had been no application for. Likely Jarvis’s idea, the AI sparing some processing to help manage Clint’s apartment building. Avenging and being a landlord takes a toll.

Not a problem except the top floor – Clint’s floor – has been left empty save him for safety reasons. Which meant the only vacancy was right next door. And it turns out the new guy is hot. And maybe kinda in trouble. Which is so his type.

So many ways this can go bad, and Clint is sure he'll find all of them. *Bucky/Clint ______________________________________________

**Stucky Reverse Bang Entry *WIP *Currently posting

The Soldier’s understanding of the world begins to unravel after he completes a mission and finds a helpless, shivering, and soaking wet kitten. Unable to leave, knowing the frail thing will die in the elements, the Soldier makes a choice...

The Soldier can not risk contact, capture, and the inevitable return to Hydra and captivity would bring. He may remember Steve Rogers, but he also remembers Captain America. Similarly enhanced, the Captain would have the advantage, the Soldier’s movement would be limited with the kitten’s safety to consider.

A surveillance approach is the safest angle to take. There had been notebooks at the museum exhibit, so there may be more memories to be dredged up if Steve Rogers still keeps journals, keepsakes, things that may stir up more memories - more pieces to fill in the expanse between Bucky and the Soldier.

He’ll seek out Steve Rogers, who seems to feature in nearly every memory with Bucky, but he’ll be cautious. Can hopefully glean from the exposure more about the time before Bucky – before he – was presumed dead in a war. From before Steve’s Bucky became Hydra’s, time stuttering by till the Soldier was born.

*Bucky/Steve ______________________________________________

“How do they do it? Boxed in like that. Back to the only open space around you? Sitting around all day. Nothing to do...” Clint’s voice is tinny through the comms. “Ooh, if you see any decent munchies, snag me a few. I missed dinner.”

“Hey, bird brain, focus. If we’re too late getting back, I can’t pick up Alpine from Kate’s till late tomorrow.” Bucky’s voice is low, while the building should be empty, they aren’t able to watch all the entrances from Clint’s angle on the opposite building. A lot of this relies on the element of surprise and stealth.

"Dude, you just walked past a break room.”

“Are you looking for stray guards, or are you looking for snacks?”

“Both, of course.” Clint scoffs on the open mic. “Wait! Nine o'clock!”

Bucky growls but reaches out and grabs a handful of caramels from a desk and puts them in the breast pocket of his tactical vest.

“You’re the best.”

“Shut up, Barton.”

*Clint/Bucky

______________________________________________

“Steve?” Bucky finally speaks, having been standing – no, shaking – in the living room entrance. The brunette says his name with such disbelief. Like they hadn’t just seen each other. Right?

“Stevie?” and he crosses the distance between them and all but picks Steve up with desperate hands, “Steve, you look...they said you’re dead Stevie.”

Bucky sinks to his knees before Steve with a sob and real panic claws at the smaller man, causes a hitch in his breathing he is glad Bucky doesn’t seem to notice. Bucky claws at him too, both hands fisting in his shirt, pulling Steve tight to him while the man’s head presses against Steve’s stomach.

As time passes lazily around Steve the growing sense that something is off nags at him when all Steve wants is to see his ma.

And find out what is suddenly wrong with Bucky. *Steve/Bucky

______________________________________________

Bucky also knows Steve’s touch, delicate and light, always too cold despite rubbing Steve’s charcoal stained fingers warm himself. It was something he found himself doing a lot in the winter when they couldn’t always afford charcoal for the whole night, so they waited until right before bed to begin heating the room. No, these weren’t those surprisingly long but skinny fingers with knobby knuckles he would lay gentle kisses onto, warming each with the heat of his mouth.

“Shit, Morita, he is burning up,” and not-Steve sounds so worried that Bucky can’t help but lean into the touch and just pretend for a moment it is his Stevie. *Steve/Bucky ______________________________________________

It wouldn’t have been so bad, Bucky could have shrugged this off easily once he caught his breath, but he found the more he pulled to free himself the worse it seemed to be. Barnes thinks he hears shouting, but it is distorted and drowned out by the pounding in his ears. Ripping further at the trap that was furthering ensnaring him he found himself snarling and just ripping at it with brute strength and panicked rage that echoed of the Asset’s frustrated rampages through Hydra personnel. *Clint/Bucky ______________________________________________

It was a fairly routine outing for the Avengers, aside from the location making Steve and Bucky uneasy, not even forty miles from where Bucky had fallen into Hydra’s control for nearly seven decades.

What was he supposed to say, ‘I know this is where I failed you, so just wondering if you wanted to sit this one out?’ or maybe, ‘This might be hard, but do you want to talk about how this is where they dragged you off from, after I left you behind, broken and bleeding?’

Instead Steve had been too in his own head at the same news that had unsettled Bucky, the train, the snow, Gabe’s face when he saw Bucky’s absence and Steve’s broken state – making it real, sealing it.

The two had both sat there in a sort of stunned silence, heartbeats passing, and then it was too late. Bucky was out the door, shoulders back and his stride long, and Steve merely followed him to the armory. *Steve/Bucky ______________________________________________

It is 1994 and James Barnes has been out of Hydra’s grasp for several months. Barnes is just trying to stay ahead of Hydra, and is at an event to take out an exposed Hydra commander to help with this.

Seeing the young Tony Stark at the event shakes Barnes's loose grip on his own mind however, and Barnes's attention is suddenly split between the past and now - and between his need to remain hidden and his desire to reclaim part of the Bucky he remembers.

Meanwhile, Tony Stark has been avoiding as many responsibilities as possible in the three years since his parents died - but tonight is the first step into entering Stark Industries as the CEO.

Instead Tony's greatest strength is dampened and he finds himself suddenly at the mercy of those around him, and to top it off he begins to worry for his sanity when he finds himself wanting to help a hallucination of Bucky Barnes. *Tony/Bucky ______________________________________________

There is no warning or retort when a punch to his side causes him to stumble, followed by a searing burn blooming from his left bicep. Clint manages to get cover behind a set of dumpsters as he makes out the distinct ping when a bullet hits where he’d been. Gunshots. He had been shot and the night air was not the least bit bothered by it. Luckily his arm seems to be nothing but a deep graze but his side would have to wait. Obscured and hindered by his uniform at least the compression suit would help in the meantime.

Hawkeye only knows one man who handles a gun that quietly, and this makes twice the fucker got the drop on him. And he is supposed to be dead. *Clint/Bucky ______________________________________________

https://archiveofourown.org/works/50552095

After a close call, Bucky Barnes finds himself alone in the Tower.

Solitude is not something that bothers Bucky, and a chance to relax and nurse his wounds wouldn't be so bad...if it wasn't also Steve and Bucky's anniversary.

It certainly doesn't help things that there may have been a mix up with Bucky's medicine. *Steve/Bucky ______________________________________________

https://archiveofourown.org/works/50520286

“Mrs....Mrs. Rogers...he looks…” a small voice sobs quietly, and Sarah was at his level immediately, her arms tight around him. Bucky let out another sob, this time muffled by her shoulder. His small body shaking against her as she can tell he tries to hold it in.

They stay like that for a few minutes and some of the tightness leaves Sarah’s chest just a little, and the trembling in the small boy calms some. Bucky sniffles and murmurs an apology. Sarah gently pulls back from Bucky and sweeps some hair out of his eyes. Stevie might be the frail one, but this poor Barnes boy had such a soft heart. *Steve/Bucky ______________________________________________

[soukokumychildren]

Au Short

Well, this idea has been kind of buzzing around in my head for a long time but only recently with the help of another song, (of course...incidentally both of them have the name "Villian" as their title), I finally decided out the entire write and just went at it for like--two full hours or such lol. Anyway, here it is, I'm really proud on how it turned out! :D (Ps...this is far in the future and MASSIVE spoilers for my au...but heck it.)

It was a glorious night, stars obscured by a gloomy whirl of clouds hovering near to the tallest of Yokohama's skyscrapers. The structures were illuminated with tiny lights, all buildings alive and bustling, the outside even more so, with traffic moving home from work and parties being held all throughout the night, the ocassional vibration from a club not unfamiliar as you got used to the bustling surroundings. But somewhere in Yokohama, across the bridge, held warehouses.

And a certain man that stashed a secret organization away in one of those said warehouses was bristling. Because a pest was found among the buildings. The said certain pest was a man that went by the name Doppo Kunikida, bound by ribbons that felt like several layers of leather keeping his arms close to his sides. Red electricity zapped across the fabric, but it didn't affect its current prisoner. Kunikida lowered his head, dirty-blonde hair covering his gray eyes from view. Usually, it was neatly tucked back into a ponytail, but currently, it was scruffy, and strands stuck out from everywhere. He breathed heavily, the squirming he did achieved nothing to escape the bonds. The man looked down at his red necktie, black shirt and lime-yellow vest. But he wasn't looking at himself. He was looking down at his feet, where a green book was located, Japanese letters sprawled across its front, reading: Ideals. But not even his skill could aid him in this position.

He squinted at the distinct shape of his rectangular glasses, as they had clattered to the floor a minute ago. Footsteps approached, and his head snapped up. But without the aid of glasses, and the darkness surrounding, he was practically sightless.

"Isn't this quite the predicament?" Said a voice that usually was doused with the tone of singsong, but instead, sounded amused. And…cold. The shape bent over, retrieved the glasses, and held it up in front of Kunikida. His breath caught as he blinked rapidly. "Huh?" He asked after a moment, seeing the shape unfold the glasses and slip them onto his face. When the dirty-blonde adjusted, he shook his head in shock.

A much sharpened image of a brunette stood there. A bandage obscured his heavily scarred left eye, the remaning one red and smoldering with a burning anger that didn't quite reach his features. The scar on said eye ran down to the corner of his mouth, and it was deep. He smiled, arms crossed over his chest, a brown jacket covering a gray turtleneck, rolled up to the sleeves to reveal more bandages wound around his arm to wrists. A new addition had been recently added-a pair of black gloves concealing his hands. Another jacket, a seeming dark green draped over his shoulders, a black opal in a golden pendant strapped to his right shoulder.

"It seems we found a little roach running amidst in our territory." Dazai said silkily. Kunikida looked over his surroundings once he spotted boxes, more crates piled up haphazardly around the area. He couldn't read the inscriptions from his current standing point. His eyes followed the trail of black cloth to a man concealed half by shadow, and his eyes widened. Akutagawa Ryunosuke. The man had precariously cut black hair with slight bangs, piercing gray eyes, and hair that draped the sides of his face, framing his cheekbones. Their ends were white as if they were dipped in some sort of reverse-colored ink. The coat he wore had a sort of extended form of turtleneck that was wider than average, a sort of beige color that was relaxing on the eyes. Brown straps decorated his chest, winding around his shoulders and back. His coat was torn at the edges. Akutagawa rose his arm and lightly coughed into his hand, before providing Kunikida with a glare that seemed less menacing without eyebrows.

"You…" Kunikida snapped his head back to Dazai, who merely grinned wider.

"So, Kunikida," Dazai said silkily, lifting his wrist to check how taunt the bandages across his arm were. "What could someone like you be doing at a place like this at this hour?" Kunikida was acutely aware of the duel scythe blades attached to Dazai's sides, held by an endless supply of chains.

While the dirty-blonde thought of something to say, Dazai had answered for him. "Oh, so you've thought that you caught onto me being suspicious?" Dazai asked, red eyes glinting with malice as he met Kunikida's gaze. "Took you a while, it really did. I suspect all the others knew except you." Kunikida's eyes narrowed. "You aren't the Dazai I know." The brunette tutted, stepping closer to Kunikida, and suddenly, his back was bathed in a silver glow from the moon behind him, gracing the night with a full shape, albeit a bit obscured from the clouds that loomed over the city.

"Oh but I am, you see. I'm the very Dazai you know, love and appreciate." Kunikida scoffed, and Dazai shot him a look, void of emotion, though his eyebrow twitched upward. "But I wear a mask, you see. Always hidden behind the several masks I’ve programmed myself to adapt to. It just seems you were always too slow to catch on.~" "Like hell! Reveal who you really are!" Dazai gave him an unamused expression, sighing, and working the fingertip of one of his gloves off. "You really are useless. I sometimes do wonder why the Agency thought you were a good hire," he sighed breezily. "How absolutely DARE-" But he was promptly slapped with leather fabric to the side of his cheek, shutting him up immediately. His eyes landed on a shape that shouldn't have shocked him to his core, but still shook him nonetheless. Strong legs dangling off a large crate, swayed, gray boots meeting up to the mans knees. He wore a shirt crisscrossed with belts horizontally and vertically, with a tie laid over his chest and held to his black shirt with a gray clip. Sleeves rolled up to show scarred arms that had black bandages wound around the wrist with black gloves overlaying them to a point. Ginger hair rolled off the mans shoulders gracefully, a cross between masculine and feminine, sharp, cerulean hawk-like eyes wandering to find Kunikida's gaze. More scars decorated his cheeks, a black hat perched on his head with a brown based rim, a chain rolling off the lip, a blue crystal glinting in the moonlight. He raised his brow, just a hair higher, when Kunikida looked at him, baffled. Aghast, even.

Dazai slipped his glove back on. "Come here, my love." Dazai commanded, voice booming across the warehouse. Chuuya barely hesitated, sliding off the crates and leaping down gracefully, and striding over to Dazai. He scrunched his nose, giving Kunikida a glare as he went to Dazai's left side, protecting his blind spot instinctually, despite being shorter and less imposing at Dazai’s side. A magnificent maroon wing stretched and spread behind Dazai, incasing his backside in a protective, feathery shield, light pink feathers embedded on the underside of Chuuya’s wings.

“Chuuya!” Kunikida suddenly yelled without thinking, and the redhead let himself slowly look at the man. “Atleast you have some sense of decency! Tell him to let me out immediately! I beg you!” Chuuya sneered. “Don’t Chuuya me like you know me, Kunikida.” He said, with a tone so full of venom, that the dirty-blonde shuddered. “What…?” Kunikida asked, exasperated. “Don’t think for a second that you’re my friend.” Chuuya stated simply, yet darkly, his feathers rustling as he sidled up closer to the brunette. “Not here, and most certainly not now.” Kunikida was taken aback, and he tried to slide backwards uneasily, but the ribbons of black cloth extended to his legs, rendering him immobile.

“What do you want?!” The dirty-blonde burst out, starting to feel the endless cycle of terror start to take hold over his brain. “Simple,” sighed the brunette. “You’ve treaded and trespassed across our territory. You must pay the price, as you know. People like us don’t take things lightly.” Dazai’s grin widened, and his expression darkened. Kunikida recoiled physically, eyes widening with a stroke of fear.

“Let’s see…what kind of punishment can I inflict on you that would be…fitting.” Dazai cocked his head in Chuuya’s direction. “Be a good dog and fetch me something appropriate for this occasion, will you?” The brunette asked, closing his eye and waving his wrist. The redhead studied him for a moment, his eyes narrowing to dangerous slits, before slipping away behind a big crate, and returning swiftly with a pistol in hand, crafted out of dark-gray-blue metal.

Dazai took the weighty weapon of artillery, and nonchalantly twirled it by the trigger hole with a finger, smiling to Kunikida. “What the hell are you doing?! Don’t you work for the Agency!?” Kunikida blurted out desperately, eyeing the pistol with pure terror. Dazai’s smile cracked. He doubled over. And threw his head back, releasing a disturbing cackle of laughter at Kunikida’s desperation. Chuuya gazed at him emotionlessly. “But of course I work for the Agency!” Agreed the brunette, amused. “Doesn’t mean I can’t do anything on the side, now. Hmmmm?” “If the President knew about this—!” “He works with us in this organization as well. I appreciate the effort though.” No shine of life glinted in Dazai’s eyes, an eerie aura rolling off him in waves. “You—“ Dazai cocked the gun, aimed and pulled the trigger, shooting a bullet through Kunikida’s right shoulder. A blast of blood spewed from the other side, scarlet as it splashed like a fountain, the bullet going right through. Kunikida howled in pain, writhing in place, still held firmly in one spot by Akutagawa’s ability, Rashomoun. “Be a bit more quieter, will you? Your voice is starting to grate upon my ears.” Dazai said cooly, snorting.

As the dirty-blonde gasped, shuddering in agony, blood seeped into his clothes. He raised his head to glare at Dazai. “You….are a monster…” “Thank you for the compliment,” chimed Dazai, and then unloaded another bullet into Kunikida’s foot when he saw it trying to maneuver closer to his ideals. It penetrated through his shoe easily, providing no protection from the bullet. The man cried in agony, and Dazai merely watched, unbothered by the fact he had shot his co-worker twice with bullets. Blood spurt out of his foot. “But I think I warned you to stay quiet, didn’t I?” Kunikida grimaced as he looked back up, catching Chuuya snarling deeply at him.

“Hey Akutagawa,” called Dazai, tilting his head in the man’s direction. “Why don’t you escort our guest from the grounds?” “Huh? Wait!!” The dirty-blonde, regardless, writhed again, refusing to leave. Not until he recieved answers. A beat held between before Dazai held his hand up to stop Akutagawa from undergoing the task.

“Let me guess,” Dazai overly sighed, pressing fingers to his temples. “You want to know why I’m doing this, right?” Kunikida opened his mouth to speak, but Dazai went over him, walking around Kunikida in circles. “You’ve heard rumors and decided to see if they were true. The all great and liable Dazai Osamu running an underground criminal organization? And right from under the governments nose?” He gasped dramatically. “Oh my, that sounds like a bunch of hocus pocus, huh?” He chuckled, as if this were some hilarious sick joke. “But,” He grasped at Kunikida’s uninjured shoulder from behind, grinning against the man’s backside. “You had to find out, make sure the rumors weren’t true. So you wanted to catch me in the act, didn’t you?” He circled Kunikida once more before settling back infront of him, Chuuya at his back and keeping close with his partner. “Yes, but—“ Kunikida began, and was once again interrupted. By…clapping. Dazai was clapping. “Well, congratulations. You’ve caught me.” He flicked his hand upward. “Release him.”

Akutagawa did so, but after a moments hesitation. Kunikida nearly fell, dizzy from the blood loss, but he forced himself to keep himself upright. Suddenly, he was tossed an object, and he clambered and fumbled with the item before he got a good grasp on it. …The gun he was shot with. Kunikida looked up, confused. Dazai spread his arms wide—even catching Chuuya off guard, hence the fact his eyes widened.

“You’ve caught me doing something illegal, Kunikida,” Dazai chirped, as light as a feather, grinning widely. “Shoot me. As someone who works for the government, it’s your job, is it not?” The manipulation tactic was working. Kunikida was hesitating, and he wasn’t moving. And he was flabbergasted. Or maybe he couldn’t.

After several heavy seconds of silence, his arm dropped to his side, though a little exaggerated, shaking his head. “It’s against my morals.” Kunikida choked, gripping the pistol tightly. He didn’t know what to do. Dazai’s grin widened, his arms returning to his sides. The man was breaking down. “But I have to,” Kunikida said, dropping to his knees, landing on his hands. He didn’t even regiester the pain in his foot nor shoulder anymore. “But if the President is also here, then….what…?” Dazai watched the dirty-blonde fall apart with a sadistic smile, arm sliding around Chuuya’s waist. The redhead leaned into the touch, tilting his head into Dazai’s shoulder and tucking his wings. “Kunikida,” he said, loud enough to capture the dirty-blonde’s attention. “This organization kills, but we kill for the greater good.” Perhaps it would ease Kunikida. Perhaps it wouldn’t. “This organization alone balances this city out more than the Port Mafia or the government ever could. We deal with stronger threats than the Agency can handle,” his voice boomed, and Kunikida stopped shaking, just to listen. “But you kill—” “People die all the time, Kunikida.” “….” The dirty-blonde looked up, a set of blue eyes and one red one staring down at his hunched-over form. “We’re doing things for the better, not for worse. These people hurt other people, the ones we take care of.” Kunikida opened and closed his mouth like some form of flabbergasted Venus fly trap. “We may not be as kind as the agency. But we do it to protect this city—nothing more, nothing less.” “I can’t be certain of this information!” Barked Kunikida, snatching up his ideals. “You could be lying to me!”

Dazai’s grin was smothered, quickly turning into a frown. He crossed his arms again, side stepping into Chuuya. “I suppose you’ll never be sure.” He looked back to Akutagawa. “If you please, escort him out of our estate. We’re done here.” Dazai whisked away, Chuuya following as they turned towards the crates, walking away. “HEY!” Kunikida screamed, and Akutagawa’s tendrils wound around his legs and yanked him backward, before throwing him out of the warehouse, the door closing behind. As soon as Kunikida regained footing, the doors were already closed, and the possibility of gathering answers was no more. (By the way, if any of you are wondering where they're located and I wasn't very descriptive of the area, here's a link to a drawing I did a good bit ago.)

[salemoleander]

Wrote an experimental piece on the plane a while ago, and finally polished it up! The conceit is something like "what happens when you are the god of birch forests and land, and a World Eater starts tearing those forests apart"

Lines in the Dirt

It echoes through the leaves and bees and calcite and bone - a slow lessening. An absence that scrapes back and forth, infinitesimally voiding chunks and chunks of space.

Grian is the first to feel the world-code flinch. He responds by doing the mental version of lifting your legs while someone is vacuuming.

This fiery embodiment isn't a threat- to him, anyways. Grian's breath drifts above the growing pit, time and entity and eldritch floating shoved harmlessly to the conceptual side.

Scar is even less affected. Though the lurch-tide of another player's becoming is uncomfortable, especially to someone so tied to buildings and places and Existing, there's no conflict of domain. Doc embodying absence slicks from Scar's skin and mind like water off a duck's back.

Bdubs wakes yelling. Hot lava and the glitched gunpowder Doc is using carve through nature and lungs, taking space and space and space. He gasps, heaving oxygen. It just makes the forests Doc is unmaking burn hotter.

Cub valiantly tries to shove potions and spawn's river-water between them. The concept of cool water offers a momentary reprieve before blasts prick along Bdubs' back and arms again.

He is going to rip apart, lose days and organs to this. Blood is oozing from his nose, some dripping noxiously down the back of his throat.

And then there is stone and gold, forming a crust between him and the burning hole.

Tucked back into the edge of his bed, crammed against the diorite and stone and deepslate of the Monolith, Bdubs pants, pain slowly dissipating. Coolness and solidity flow into him, under him.

Ren is ascendant. He shouldn't be.

They aren't meant to force this, aren't meant to cram so many concepts together and possess them like Ren is trying to do (for you, his brain unhelpfully supplies). Stone, broad categories of stone- and gold as well, snatched painfully from Impulse- it's too much to hold. Bdubs desperately reels him in, but there's only so much he can act as an anchor.

Cracks break through as quickly as Bdubs can try to fill them, with moss and leaves and vines.

Those aren't his only domain, though. And this is- Ren chose to help him. This is an emergency. Bdubs can help back, he thinks. He can do this.

Bdubs pulls the tree of whimsy to the front, tangling stories and tales and myth with stone and Ren (only his piece of myth- taking care not to wrench too fast, not to steal from or hurt Cleo) and he twists the plot.

Gold is a crown, stone his as-yet unbuilt castle.

Too weak, the story's still too weak. Bdubs reverses slightly, redirects. His Crastle, and the- he swallows his fermented fear, pushes through.

The King, Ren made king again in this world, as in the other. He feels a tug from Cleo, and then she is there, stabilizing myth and story. And with another part of the Crastle, he has room to breathe.

If the other Hermits weren't awake before, they are now, massive shifts cascading through the group. Cub- already potions and spectacle, fireworks and death-as-entertainment- lumps everything together as Magic, a domain he's always excelled at. The pvp aspect strengthens Bdubs' attempted 3rd Life reference, and the game portion slots with Cleo and creates an easy space for Joe to fill with... pinball and ghosts?

Bdubs feels a laugh bubble up at the incongruity. But sure! Pinball and ghosts works.

GoodTimeWithScar> can I join

GoodTimeWithScar> I want to decorate my base interiors this season

GoodTimeWithScar> if I'm on Docs side I'll just end up with empty boxes

Scar is welcomed into the fold, magic and wonderment and beautiful structures. There's also something sharp and cruel he brings with, a chunk of malicious commerce that smells like desert storms, which Bdubs dutifully ignores as a Problem For Later.

Feeling out the edges of this new group- Ren's barely-holding-together royalty, Cleo's thirst to make myth rather than support it, Cub and Scar's love of chaos- he figures there's going to be a lot of those problems for later.