#shove me against the chainlink

[andy-clutterbuck]

4x03 | Isolation

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

okay so i saw this tiktok and immediately said 'but what if steddie?' so here you go!

Steve honestly can't believe he let Robin convince him to go to this goddamn haunted house...attraction...thing.

He also can't believe that they somehow got separated. Them! The two peas in a pod who share the same braincell!

Now he's wandering the place alone, and in the goddamn dark. Following whatever sparks of light he can find, though he knows that's just gonna lead him to more scares.

'and to the exit, Dingus.' Robin's voice says in his head.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. I'm almost out of here anyway, right?" he says aloud to no one.

"Wrong you are, pretty boy." a husky voice says into his ear from the dark, and Steve's running.

Running, running, running, somehow not tripping over shit in the dark, just letting his instincts take him wherever they want while some freak in a mask and wielding a machete follows close behind, cackling all the while.

The thing also says things like, "They're so much sweeter when fear courses through their veins!" and "The pretty ones always die first, that's why I'm still around." each followed by more unhinged cackles.

Finally, Steve turns a corner to find blinding light. Well, blinding to the rest of the place at least.

A steady light comes from a lantern beside a chainlink gate. He dashes to it, thinking its salvation, only to find a blank black wall behind it.

It was only another set piece.

"Oh fuck."

"Hello sweet thing,"

Steve spins, pressing his back against the fence behind him, heart hammering through his whole body.

The creature, in a bloody pig mask, as Steve can see now, chuckles hoarsely when he comes around the corner..and in the way of the only exit.

"Oh, fuck."

"Oh darling, there won't be time for any of that, now will there?"

Steve registers everything he can about the thing as it stalks closer. He's about Steve's height, slighter in build from the legs he can see under the ratty gown thing he wears, and he's immediately got a plan.

"You would look so sweet under me, though, wouldn't you?"

Damn, this guys' been flirting with him this whole time. Weird, unhinged haunted house flirting, but flirting nonetheless.

Another piece of the plan slots into place.

"C'mon darling, why so quiet? Lemme hear those screa---"

The thing surges forward, machete raised, so Steve shoots out an arm, catching his wrist and gripping tight.

With the other, he shoves at the thing's shoulder and spins them, pinning it against the metal fence with a clang.

Finally, Steve sets his moves to stun; dropping the thing's arm and using both hands to lift the plastic pig mask up over the actor's face, everything slows to a crawl.

Steve takes in the face of the actor pinned under him in a split second. He's just about the same age as Steve, with long dark hair that frizzes out under the lip of the mask where it's caught between it and his face. His face, thoroughly sweaty and flushed from chasing people around all night, is looking up at him in shock with big dark eyes and...holy shit..

Is it ethical to fall in love at first sight at a haunted house? With the thing guy that was chasing you?

Time speeds up again and Steve surges forward this time, locking his hands along the man's jaw instead of on the mask, letting it fall down onto his face as he kisses him.

Deep, quick, and with a quick flash of tongue before he's spinning and racing back out the way he came, this time being lucky enough to find the exit along a path he had taken the wrong fork in last time.

"Holy shit, Steve! There you are! What happened??" Robin catches him as he clambers though the curtain covered exit.

"I..." he takes a deep breath, holding himself up by his knees "I fell in love."

ehehehe there's a part 2 to this :o)

[connecting-those-constellations]

Jailbird

Hi there! I've never done this before, first time posting in the tag, so idk if there's etiquette or whatever but I've written the start to a steddie fic inspired by Sabrina Carpenter's "Please Please Please" music video. Just wondering if it's worth continuing with or if ppl have any ideas. Anyway, here's Jailbird:

______________________________________________________________

Steve had entertained the thought before. What if he just didn’t show up?

Didn’t drive the Beemer through those metal gates, didn’t lean against the hood with his arms crossed. Didn’t wait with a mix of elation and dread for the buzzer to sound and for his husband to swagger to the car, duffel over his shoulder and a shit-eating grin on his face. 

Maybe if Eddie had no one to grin at when he was released from jail, again, he wouldn’t get himself locked up next time. 

But those questions remained unanswered, and Steve waited. 

The buzzer sounded, the chainlink door opened, and the love of Steve’s life and the bane of his existence strolled out like he’d just stopped at the store. 

“Hey, sugar.” 

The words were whispered in Steve’s ear as tattoo-covered hands came up to circle his waist. When Steve’s head, tilted to stare up at the sky before their eyes could lock across the parking lot, didn’t come back down, Eddie’s lips landed on his neck. 

“You’re not still mad at me, are you?” 

Steve huffed and lowered his head, and Eddie’s lips relocated to his cheek, pressing kiss after slow kiss. He gave Eddie a soft shove back, finally making eye contact.

“Ask me again when we’re home.” 

[fairy-writes]

Congrats on 1k!!! Could i request action prompt #1 with Vanitas or Chuuya?

I WOULD DO IT AGAIN

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Fandom(s): Bungou Stray Dogs

Pairing(s): Nakahara Chuuya x Reader

Prompt: Shoving their lover out of the way of danger. (Action Prompt #1)

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Gender Neutral!Reader, Port Mafia!Reader

Notes:

__________________________________________________________________________

Your shoes pound hard against the pavement as you vault over a chainlink fence and hit the ground in a roll. You’re on your feet in the next second and follow after Chuuya, who is a few paces ahead. 

He’s lost his coat, and his hat is shoved down hard on his head with one hand. But overall, he looks a lot better than you feel. 

The smell of blood is thick on your tongue, and you know that some of it’s yours. You feel vaguely woozy from your head injury, vision swimming every few paces, but you keep going. Some blood drips down your chin from where you had cracked it against a corner. 

“C’mon! Just a bit further! We’re almost at the—shit!” He cuts himself off, and you’re hauled up against the brick wall, his right hand clamped over your mouth, and Chuuya invades your space as he presses up close against you. Your hand unconsciously goes to grip the fabric of his shirt at his waist.

Thugs from the opposing side race past you, not even looking down the alleyway as they shout to be on the lookout. 

Hah.

Funny.

Do you get it? Be on the lookout while not paying attention?

Oh, never mind. 

You are overwhelmed by the scent of Chuuya’s cologne. It’s something expensive and almost spicy yet cool. There are also the faintest undertones of tobacco from his cigarettes from earlier. It smells really nice. 

You are so distracted by Chuuya’s smell that it takes him lightly slapping your face to get your attention.

“Did you hear me?! We have to move!” He hisses, and you swallow, nodding hastily and trying to ignore the fluttering of your heart. Luckily he’s not paying attention to notice your embarrassment. Instead, he’s peeking around the corner, scanning your surroundings and making sure you aren’t going to be followed. 

“Now!” He whisper-shouts and grips your hand that isn’t occupied with your pistol. He then yanks you out into the street, and the two of you sprint toward the docks where the helicopter is (hopefully) waiting. 

This should have been an easy mission. You were to assist Chuuya in negotiating a business deal with a rival mafia of sorts.

Which had quickly gone wrong. 

It had been a trap.

And now you and Chuuya had to escape before getting killed. 

Which was turning out to be more complicated than you thought. 

There’s a shout behind you, and you instinctively duck, whipping around and firing three rounds from your gun as bullets go whizzing overhead. 

Three bullets.

Three bodies. 

But still not enough. 

Chuuya begins to glow red beside you, and any other bullets that aim to hit him are stopped in their tracks. He mutters under his breath and sends the bullets back to where they came from. 

More bullets.

More bodies. 

Is it enough? 

You take the initiative this time and grab Chuuya’s hand, dragging the mafioso down the main road. But barely thirty paces later, you have to skid to a stop on account of a gun being put to Chuuya’s head. 

The two of you freeze, and the man behind the weapon takes that chance to pull the trigger. 

When you come to, it’s a bloodbath. Bodies are piled high around you, and there are even some deep craters in the asphalt. Your body is lying prone on the ground, Chuuya at your side. 

When he sees your eyelashes flutter and then your eyes open, he sits up from where he had been sitting against the brick wall of a building. He looks tired, a cigarette hanging from his fingers, and he exhales a puff of smoke.

“You’re awake.” He says, and you can tell he’s angry.

“I am.” You mumble as you try to sit up. He puts a firm hand on your shoulder and helps you into a sitting position. 

You notice his vest is suspiciously missing and realize it had been torn into strips and tied to staunch the bleeding coming from your shoulder.

So you had been shot?

At your confusion toward your injury, Chuuya clicked his tongue,

“You got shot.” He says curtly, and you huff out a laugh before wincing when it starts to hurt.

“I can tell.” You mumble, and his face darkens into something furious.

“Why?” He demands, and you frown,

“Why what?” You retort, and his face twists.

“Why’d you push me out of the way?! I would’ve been fine, and you know it!” He snaps, and you pause. 

You couldn’t exactly tell him about your feelings now could you?

No, you couldn’t.

He was one of the famed Port Mafia executives, and you were a low-level member who was more of a secretary for Mori Ogai than anything. So why you were sent on this mission was a mystery to you. 

“I would do it again.” You say under your breath. Chuuya hears it. 

He grabs ahold of your shirt collar and yanks you close enough that you can smell the nicotine on his breath. Your noses brush, and it sends your heart into a tizzy. 

“Don’t you dare say that. I can take care of myself.” He snarls, and it’s then that the rest of the Port Mafia shows up. You are hauled onto the chopper waiting just down the street while the rest of the members comb the streets for any other enemies. 

Chuuya doesn’t say another word to you the entire time. 

[making-boys-wet]

You're out on a late night walk. The park is quiet and the moon is your only real light source. The weather has been nice lately, you're even able to wear your favorite hoodie. However, since stepping into this area you've felt an uneasy feeling, eyes watching you. You try to ignore it and carry on along the path, but every rustle of the leaves and twig snapping sends a jolt down your spine. You tell yourself it's in your head, you're okay. Just as you're starting to relax, footsteps come running up from behind you. It happens so quick that you don't see my face as you're pushed against the chainlink fence. You struggle and fight, adding excitement to our fun. A rough voice whispers into your ear,

>Well aren't you a lively little thing. You know you're not suppose to walk around dark places alone.

You go to let out a scream but a hand muffles your mouth and another grabs at your pants. You desperately try to kick and fight me off. I've got you held in place against the fence. Your underwear is barely pulled down over your cunt when you feel my cock shove it's way inside. Your eyes swell up and you grip onto the chainlink, squeezing so hard you nearly make yourself pass out. You hold your breath as you feel my cock pounding your pussy. Suddenly letting out a gasp when you can't take it anymore. You try to push me off you, but my cock isnt letting up. My hot breath is panting into your ear with each thrust.

>Fuck.. enghh.. your cunt.. feels so good.. Fuuck yesss... do you feel how hard you're making me?

Your neck and pussy tingle as I lick and bite your ear. I forcefully shove my cock deep into you, you squirm as you feel it pulsing inside you. You know I'm cumming. Filling up your body and making a mess of your cunt. You let out a breath as my cock slides out of you, hot thick cumming flowing from your hole. You can't do anything but shake and grip onto the fence as I escape into the darkness.

[alex-the-bard]

i need to get this off my chest

so uhhhhhhhhhhh

yeah if you can’t stomach child abuse this is your first, last, and only warning

i was abused by my preschool teacher. she would slap me. degrade me. insult me. one time she took me to the back room and started shoving olives down my throat. i couldn’t move, i couldn’t scream. one time she slapped me across the face for not being normal and missing my parents.

ok i lied you get one more warning because this is really graphic and also really fucked up.

(scroll down)

one time, i wasn’t paying attention while she was talking (idk i was probably looking at a tree or something adhd is weird) and she got REALLY ANGRY. like beat you with a stick angry. but she didn’t beat me with a stick. she grabbed 5-yo me by the throat and slammed me against the sharp, rusty chainlink fence. in front of like 20 other people. and guess what happened to her? nothing. she got off scot fucking free and kept doing shit like this for the next year before i finally got out of that hellhole.

i’m sorry.

i’m sorry.

i’m sorry.

[xamaxenta]

I’m trying to draw up a design for the Phoenixfire (bc I like big robot) and hoo boy the amount of notes on this sketch,,, catch me out here overthinking everything in a drawing as per usual LMAO

So far I’ve got a more aerodynamic design than literally any other jaeger, like you’d think they would make them better at moving in water seeing as every kaiju comes out of the ocean, a “helmet” structure of armour around the cockpit that is shaped to deflect any kaiju claws from hitting the more fragile front area and protect against bites, and “gills” on the sides that close when it detects smoke or water so that when the jaeger can ventilate surrounding air most of the time and only use the onboard air recycler when necessary

What sort of weapons should it have? I’ve already got flamethrower + curved knife for Ace and more talon like bladed feet for Marco, but I’m trying to decide if it should actually have a whole ass metal pipe lookin bludgeoning tool for Sabo or if he just fistfights the kaiju bc technically the jaeger’s arms could be considered very large metal pipes lmfao

I love this, bc the pilot can request the weapon and I like to think theres four main weapon types for all of theses beautiful men to share

Phoenixfire is the first Mark 4 to have a “wing” frame (honestly think gundam/think code geass knightmares), mostly a coolant exhaust system for the nuclear cores but also for counterbalance because Phoenixfire has alot of long extending weaponry

Marco’s request was mainly reinforced leg structure but he won’t say no to having retractable talons on the feet tho, retractable for walking purposes, the wing frame flares out to counterbalance the crazy kicks he likes to execute (sue him he enjoys kickboxing)

Ace’s request is similar to Gipsy Danger’s rocket elbows, which are only installed so Danger can punch harder 😂 I can see Ace having the same reasoning for this request to be installed, the palms do have vents that release highly pressurised scalding steam/water vapour, so maybe not exactly a flamethrower but superheated themed anyway? And absolutely would burn a coldblooded giant lizard, Also useful for shoving away from kaijus that got too close (ironman palms lol)

Sabo would probably request a whip staff — my own headcanon is its a chainlink whip that can be unravelled from a thigh compartment or a shoulder blade compartment and can be uses as a whip or rigidly aligned into a long sturdy staff weapon and that is Sabo’s preferred choice

Their fourth weapon could be the curved blade, emergency dagger for close encounters that requires finesse — aka fighting in closed spaces and stuff, this would be the best option

Crimson Typhoon had three arms and three brother pilots (F in the chat for crimson typhoon who went down too quick) i dont think Phoenixfire has three arms instead Marco is the middleman in a sense, Ace takes left hemisphere, Sabo takes right hemisphere and Marco mostly controls the lowerbody to give Sabo and Ace the mental capacity to pilot the torso together 👍🏽

[redgalaxyarts]

Cat Fucker - Shinso/Reader

Synopsis: You get hit with a mutation quirk while chasing a villain and while you're waiting to transform back to normal, Shinso finds you. (MxF reader)

Warnings: Language, violence, fluff, smut, masturbation, quirk use, choking, gagging, spanking, pet play, pet names, deg/praise, breeding kink, very slight dubcon if you squint

The reader has a fireball quirk, your hero name is Cherrybomb.

(Y/H/C = your hair color)

The chill of the cold night air hits your sweaty face and palms creating a slight tinge of pain from the contrast between the temperature of the night and your body. You have been running away from the robbery in progress after the police arrived to chase after the villain who caused it. Your calves burn and your feet feel like glass from how long you've been running and chasing after him. You dip, dodge, and jump over all the obstacles in your way and as he threw something behind him, you just barely ducked enough for it to only graze your palms as you tossed it out of the way, a little scrape left in the wake.

"Will you fucking stop already?!" You scream out to the villain dressed in an all-black outfit with a purple short cape swirled with various patterns that seem reminiscent of various animal footprints on it.

"You seem too slow hero, might need some help with that!" The guy yells back before slapping a random shape on the back of his cape and using his fist to throw an orb of light at you but you quickly sidestep out of the way just in time.

Taking the chance after he stumbled from throwing it at you, you open your palm wide and fire three balls of fire at the villain in front of you. They all land perfectly into his side and he doubles over and falls over his own two feet while running. He skids along the pavement and takes out a lamppost in the process but he ultimately comes to a stop and lays still while breathing shallow breaths.

"Hah, I, hah I got you, villain." You say panting and out of breath. "Damn I need to work on my stamina." You say mostly to yourself.

You bend down and flip the villain over onto his back before grabbing a tight pair of handcuffs from your utility belt and quickly clasping his wrists with them and hiking him onto his two feet.

"Cherrybomb did you apprehend the suspect?" Your partner Shinso asks you over your earpeice.

You reach your free hand up and tap the button before replying.

"Yeah just now. Head back to the office and I'll meet you there after I call a cruiser to take him to the station."

"Heard, stay safe."

You confirm with Shinso and tighten your grip on the suspect before notifying the police of your new location and wait for them to arrive.

Only a few minutes pass before the cruisers show up and they grab the villain from your arms, and right as you're about to pull away, the suspect breaks free from one of the officers grasp and walks darts towards you and grabs your wrist in an attempt to attack you while you were distracted talking to civilians. You turn around to attack him back but the officer already managed to grab him before another brawl could start and slapped him with another pair of cuffs. Unbeknownst to any of you, he was able to slap a paw print on the back of his cape and touch you with it when he grabbed your wrist. The villain gets shoved headfirst into the back of the quirk and armor-proof van before the doors shut loudly and they drive away.

"Cherrybomb! Cherrybomb yet another excellent takedown of a villain and you stopped the bank robbery with no casualties, how did you do it?" A reporter asks while the cameraman points the camera towards you and you confidently reply how you normally always do.

"Meow!"

You freeze in confusion, the reporter freezes in confusion, and so does the crowd that has gathered around you all.

"I'm sorry, meow?"

You go to speak again but before you can, you feel a tingle in your hands and you look down to see that your fingertips are slowly morphing into sharp feline-like claws.

You roll your eyes and mutter a "fuck" out loud but to everyone else it just sounds like another meow. Before you could be bombarded with more questions, you take off running down the road and into the secret alleyway you knew one on would find you at. You had found this alleyway months ago after you had gotten beat up pretty bad in a brawl with the LOV and managed to stay secluded all night until you told Shinso your coordinates to find you.

When you duck under the torn hole in the chainlink fence to get to the hiding spot, you brace yourself up against the back of the brick building and look down at your hands to see they've morphed into paws as well as your feet. When you look back up at the brick, you also notice you've gotten incredibly smaller than you remember. It wasn't until you turn around and see a big fluffy tail attached to your butt that you realize what that villain's quirk was; Beastmorph. He turned you into a cat.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me." You say to yourself in your head. You try and find a way to break out of your transformation by running headfirst into the brick wall but all you get out of it is a nasty headache, you can't seem to break out of it by force. You shake your head and droop your ears at the pain and lick your paw and rub your ear to ease the pain.

You saunter around the damp alleyway and see your reflection in a puddle next to a garbage bin and stare into it. You see a slight scar from where you headbutted yourself and notice your very fluffy y/h/c fur blowing in the slight breeze and getting damp from the rain that started to roll in overhead. Staring into your feline eyes in the puddle, you don't even notice the hulking figure walk up behind you and scoop you up. You yelp at the sudden loss of connection of concrete on your paws but feel relaxed in the strong arms of however picked you up, even more so when you feel two soft fingertips rub behind your ears.

"Hey, kitty kitty what are you doing out here?" You look up and instantly recognize the purple hair of who grabbed you.

If a cat could look surprised, you were surely embodying it.

"Where the hell is y/n, she's not at the office and she's not here. God, I hope she's alright."

The rain starts to fall harder and you yelp at the sudden feeling of your soaked fur. You accidentally sink your claws into Shinso's arm while hiking your butt up to try and shake off the wetness and you hear him slightly gasp at the pain.

"Hey hey, kitty it's okay. Come on let me take you home and get out of this rain."

Before you can try and jump out of his arms, he grips you tightly and covers you under his cape while taking off his mask and doing his best to walk under awnings to keep you both from getting even wetter.

You recognize all the turns and roads Shinso takes to get back to his house as you've been there multiple times. It doesn't take him very long to make it back and when he enters his house he shuts the door behind him and places you on his comfy couch. You drop with a slight bounce before he sets his things down on the counter and locks the door behind him.

"Make yourself at home kitty, I'll keep you here tonight and figure out what to do with you tomorrow."

He leans over the back of the couch and starts petting your head and back, and while it feels awkward, it also brings on a strange warmth that you haven't felt before. You smile the best a cat can and you feel your tail swish back and forth. Shinso chuckles before scratching a certain place on your lower back, right above your tail, and your eyes practically bulge out of your head at the extremely weird pleasure it brings on. You are torn between trying to move away or enduring the weird feeling, and it wasn't until you feel a rumble in your chest that you realize you're purring so you decide to hold out and enjoy the scratches.

"Good kitty."

His words strike a chord in your head and you roll your eyes and shiver from the unknown feeling inside of you. Shinso smiles once more before stopping and turns into the kitchen and grabbing a bowl from a cabinet.

You whine at the loss of contact and hop up on the back of the couch and stare at him while cocking your ears behind your head and staring at him.

"Sorry girl, I don't have any cat food but I'll pick some up tomorrow after work."

He says to you as he places a glass bowl of water down on the floor next to a wall. You hop off the couch and walk down next to it, as much as you highly don't want to drink from a bowl like some animal, you are pretty parched from the earlier fight so you lap it up while you can. When you finish slurping it up, you look up and see that Shinso has disappeared and you go to look around his house for him before you see his bedroom door open. You strut over into it and your eyes go wide at the sight in front of you.

His shirt is off of his body and he's walking around in just his boxers as he takes his dirty uniform and tosses it into the laundry basket. His slight muscle definition makes your mouth water when he turns around and you catch a good look at his back. This is the first time you've seen Shinso completely shirtless within the few years of working at the agency together, which is surprising considering the countless amount of times you two have had to patch each other up, he's even seen you completely shirtless besides your breasts as you've always covered them. You walk further into the room and he turns around and you see an array of patchwork tattoos scattering along his arms and a few on his chest. A few of these you've seen before, but you also notice many new ones which make your mouth water even more that your tongue lulls out the side of it.

You are quickly blushed when you see that he's about to pull his boxers down, and with the fear of perversion coming over you, you quickly pounce out of the room and back onto the couch. You shake the thoughts from your head until you hear Shinso's voice speaking to you from two places at once; your head and the adjacent room.

"Y/n, where in the fuck are you. You weren't at the office or your alleyway. Are you alive?" He asks you over the earpiece, which is weirdly enough still attached to you in your cat form. You go to speak but remember how it came out as a meow last time, but you are surprised by the actual words from your mouth.

"Yes I'm okay, I had a uhm, accident and I'm waiting for it to subside." You speak in your actual voice from underneath the couch where you moved to in fear that Shinso would hear or find you.

"What? What accident?"

"A mishap with the villain's quirk I think. I'll be okay I'm just waiting for it to disappear. "

"I-okay then. I'll see you at work tomorrow." He says more of a question than a statement.

"If I'm better by then, sure."

"Okay, goodnight y/n."

"Night Toshi."

You get out from under the couch and trample into his bedroom after checking if the coast is clear first. You see that the en suite bathroom is in use by him when you hear the shower start and him grumbling as he steps inside. You leap onto his bed and stare at yourself into the mirror attached to his side wall that faces the bed. You stare into your eyes and notice that your pupils are no longer stretched like a cat's eyes are and that they've reverted back to your normal eye color and shape. With your voice back and your eyes reverting back your normal body should return by tomorrow. Oh shit, your normal body will return tomorrow. How can you leave without Shinso catching you?

You're caught off guard when you hear the bathroom door open and steam billowing out of it and a very stark naked and dripping wet Shinso walk out of it.

"Me-ow" You gulp to yourself out loud when you see him walk over to the bed while wiping his damp hair with the tan towel around his broad shoulders. You can't help but trace his body down and notice the purple patch of hair above his pelvis and the happy trail connected to it, it fits perfectly against the shallow v-line under his hips.

You feel a shiver ripple through your body and your tail swish back and forth slowly while you take in the sight of the juicy man in front of you. You don't even hop off the bed when he sits down on it next to you and begins petting you. A very loud purr erupts from you and you nudge your head against his hands before he pulls away and scoots you a little bit away so he can get under the comforter.

He turns on his side and flicks off the bedroom light before huffing and puffing while rolling back over onto his back. He slides his fingers through his hair and tugs on it slightly before sliding his hands down his face and dropping them on top of the blanket. He turns back over to you and smiles as he pets your head.

"I hope y/n is okay kitty. You'd like her if you met her, she's beautiful and sweet to every animal she meets. She has one hell of a mouth on her to just about everyone else though." Shinso chuckles to himself at the last thought and you can't help but feel taken off guard at the unknown compliment he gave you. "What I wouldn't do to just make her shut up sometimes."

You quietly gulp to yourself when you feel him tense up while he's petting you before he stops entirely and sits up in his bed and scoots you off of it and towards the door but never shutting it. He whispers something that you don't quite hear before walking back towards his bed and sitting up against the headboard.

You can't help your curiosity as you tip-toe your toe beans into his room and tilt your head around the edge of his dresser and catch sight of what he was doing.

He groans as he rests his head back against the headboard with his eyes shut and his one hand tracing his nipples while the other strokes his cock to get it hard while quietly muttering your name. He's sitting above the comforter and you feel impressed at the endowment of him, you'd never think he'd be that big. You lick your lip and accidentally catch your tongue on your fang before shaking your head and walking closer to the bed to hear and see him better, your morals are entirely out of the window as you don't care how wrong it is to watch your coworker touch himself to the thought of you.

"Fuck." He moans out as he takes his thumb and spreads his precum around his cock while rubbing his nipple with his thumb. He pumps himself while squeezing the base of his cock and you see him shiver at the feeling with taking his free hand and dropping it onto the comforter and gripping the sheets until his knuckles turn white.

"Y/n, just like that, fuck." He says shutting his eyes tightly while envisioning you riding his cock all nice and tight.

You've somehow found your way into his closet and are staring at him through the doorframe of it. Also at this point, you haven't noticed that your hands and feet have reverted back to normal, along with everything else about you. Well, besides the fact that you still have your tail and cat ears. You still don't realize it when you take your hand and touch yourself along with him and rolling your eyes backward when you feel your fingers rub your clit in pace with his pumps.

Moving your hand in time with Shinso's, you stick your fingers into your wet cunt and you moan out his name at the feeling of it, but you quickly clasp a hand over your mouth and put your back against the closet door hoping he didn't notice.

At the sound of your moan, Shinso shoots his eyes open and his head pops up and he stops touching himself while looking around the room. He quietly turns on the end table light and his eyes squint at something in his bedroom when he sees your bare foot poking out of the side of his closet. He gets up from his bed very quietly and walks over to the door and slaps his hand alongside the doorframe making you scream before slamming the oak door right into his face.

Confusion, arousal, and aggravation fall over Shinso's body at the sight he saw before him. He saw you standing stark naked in his closet, with your fingers deep in your cunt, with a pair of cat ears and a tail matching the cat he took home earlier today. He scans the room and takes in the fact that the cat is nowhere to be seen and he smirks as his knuckles come up to the closet door to lightly rap against the wood.

"Oh y/n?"

Silence, which is hard considering you're still touching yourself while also biting your hand and clamping your eyes shut as you try and hold back your lewd noises.

"I know it's you."

It's no use, you can't help but let your noises and words slip.

"Fuck."

A flip switches inside of your body and you're frozen, waiting for some unseen instructions to guide you. Shinso smirks to himself and you curse at yourself in your head as you forgot about his quirk.

"Open the door and come out."

His husky tone sends shivers down your body as you do exactly what he says. You open the door and see him standing there with his arm above your head resting against the closet doorframe. You step in front of him and his free hand comes up to grip your chin and stare into his eyes and the contact breaks you out of your trance.

"Hi, kitten." He says hungrily.

"H-hi Toshi." You gulp at getting caught and now fully realize you're, mostly, back to normal.

"So this is the mishap? Didn't think to tell me about it?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't even know what happened. The villain must've blindsided me with his quirk and I got turned into a cat."

You don't know why you feel like you have to explain yourself to him, but you're utterly at his mercy and it isn't at all due to his quirk. You're entirely yourself right now.

"Hm, how unfortunate. It's even more unfortunate about what I'm going to do to you for deceiving me."

You gulp.

"What, uhm, how did I deceive you?"

"You acted like such a good kitten when in reality I know you're nothing but a slut wanting to be fucked by me. Dirty fucking girl."

"Toshi, no I can't, we can't."

That trance is back that you felt before.

"Shut up."

You do.

His hand drops from your chin and he stands confident and tall above you.

"Get your ass on the bed and wait for me."

Your feet mindlessly walk on their own. You squat onto his bed and turn towards him while sitting on your thighs and letting them plump out around you. Your palms rest against your thighs and your tail swishes back and forth while you wait for him.

"Good girl."

You're still locked in the trance but you feel the pool starting to drip from your cunt at his words and actions. You watch as he stalks over to you, like the way a cat does to a mouse, but in this case, you're the ladder in this situation.

You gulp when you feel his fingers trace your bare chest before stopping on your breast and giving one a good squeeze. You moan while getting knocked from your trance and he takes that as an invitation to continue. He releases your breast and immediately grips the back of your neck with force before bending down and kissing you sloppily and passionately at the same time. You moan even more and you feel him smirk into you as his free hand traces down your breasts, flicking your nipple, then trailing it down to your sopping core. You whimper when you feel his finger ghost over your warm folds and then he slides his finger in between them to catch all the juices coming from you.

"Well look at this, my kitten is all nice and wet for me already. I knew you were a slut y/n."

You roll your eyes at the words and it was a big mistake on your part when you feel a slap against your breast and you gasp and look up to the lavender eyes drilling into yours.

"Don't be a fucking brat with me." He dips two fingers between your folds again and as you whimper, he takes that chance to stick them into your mouth and down your throat. "Taste yourself and shut up." His hand grips the back of your neck tighter and bends it back as his two fingers get shoved down your throat and you gag on his fingers. Tears prick your eyes at the feeling and you feel yourself grow wetter and wetter at the force and words he's using on you and you just want more.

He pulls away from you and you both smirk at the long strands of saliva that trail from his fingers and your mouth and he licks it off his own fingers before releasing your neck and pushing you down onto the bed.

"Do you taste good kitten? Spread your legs for me and let your owner taste."

"Ho, fuck Toshi."

You say as he pushes you back and bites your thigh, but he shoots up and tuts at you.

"It's master now."

Your eyes roll back in pleasure as he spreads your legs and kisses your folds and you let bliss take you.

"Ye-yes master." You bite on your finger from the pleasure and use your other hand to twist into Shinso's locks. He groans into your pussy when he feels you tug on his hair and as you buck your hips into his mouth, he wraps an arm around your thigh and rests his hand flat against your pelvis, and uses his other hand to rub up and down your chest and squeezes your breasts making you shiver and shake.

His tongue is that of a god, he's eating you out like no other has done before and you don't want him to ever stop. His tongue speaks passion into your core as he twists your nipple in between his thumb and forefinger and gives it a sharp tug which makes your chest rise and gasps of pleasure drip from your mouth. You feel him smirk into your pussy and your thighs clamp around his head when he nibbles your clit and he smiles even more with the feeling of it happening.

Within minutes you're seeing stars as he plunges the hand he was using on your breasts into your warm cunt while he uses the hand on your pelvis to rub your clit. He sees you trying to resist the urge to cum and he feels himself grow harder which only causes a mix of pleasure and pain to score through him. He needs contact but he only wants the focus on you, he only wants his precious kitten to feel good tonight.

"Fuck master, can I cum? Can I please cum baby?" You beg him as you knot his hair tighter with both hands now.

"Go ahead kitten, cum on my face for me."

He plunges into you and rubs harder at the same pace and dips his mouth back to your pussy before you release onto his face so much that it drips down his chin. He pumps you a few more times before pulling his fingers out of you and smiling down at you panting and wiping sweat from your brow.

You're caught off guard when his dominant persona is dropped as he bends down and kisses you on the forehead and lips before checking in on you.

"Are you okay baby? Can you keep going or can you stop?" He asks so sweetly and innocently.

You run a hand through his hair softly and swipe your thumb against his lips before bending up and kissing him, tasting a mix of himself and your fresh juices which make you want round 2 even more now.

"Please master, I want you to fuck your little kitten-like no one else has before." You whisper seductively into his ear before nibbling on it and licking his neck and falling back down onto the bed.

"Holy fuck." You managed to catch him off guard this time. He gets back into the persona, now even more eager before gripping your hips so tight you know for a fact you'll bruise, and flipping you over with a hard bounce back on the bed and you gasp when you feel him hike your ass into the air.

"Look at your precious cunt, so beautiful and wet for me." He smacks your ass and you yelp out in pleasure before he scissors inside of you with his fingers, stretching you out and pulling away and to his side drawer.

"No master, let kitten feel you. Please?" You ask him while reaching back to grip his wrist.

"You want me to fill you nice and full with my cum kitten? Dirty fucking girl."

He spits into his hand and pumps himself a couple of times before lining himself up with your hole. He grabs both of your ass cheeks and rubs them gingerly with his thumbs before spreading your lips and entering your pussy slowly, getting you used to him.

"Hah, fuck Toshi- Master, I don't care, oh fuck." You shake out the words as you feel him bottom out inside of you and you don't even fathom how you managed to take him so well. Your toes are already clenching when he pulls out and slides back in just as slow as he did before.

"Fuck yeah kitten, I'm gonna fill you so good and full with my cum. Can't wait to have my fucking child can you?"

His head falls backward as he starts to pick up the pace inside of you and groans loudly when he feels you squeeze around him. The villain's quirk has entirely disappeared by now but neither of you has noticed and neither of you cares from the absolute ecstasy you both are receiving from the other.

His cock is slamming back and forth into you at an incredible pace. For every handful of hard pumps into you, it's followed by a slow and teasing pound that hits your spot perfectly every time. You don't know how long you've been going at this, minutes, hours, doesn't matter, you don't want it to ever stop. Your pussy clenches around his cock like it was perfectly molded to be there. Shinso slaps your ass with so much force it leaves a gorgeous dark handprint afterward. You both moan out a "fuck" from the way it made your pussy jump and Shinso picks up his pace inside of you.

"I-I'm about to cum Toshi, fill me up nicely with your cum baby."

You barely manage to get out as he slams harder into you, hitting your g-spot with precision. He smirks and you hear it in his moans. He slows down slightly before bending down and slowly tracing his hands along your sides, squeezing your breasts, gripping your throat, and bringing you back up with him so that your back is against his chest. This new position has you absolutely in pure bliss. You see your entire life flash before your eyes when he grips your throat tightly and bites the side of your neck while his other hand rests against your hip bone and rubs circles into it.

"You're going to be such a good mother, baby." He bites your neck harder. "You're taking my cock so nice, and I'm about to fill you to the brim with my cum. Can't wait to see your stomach bulge with my kid." With that last sentence, his hand moves from your hip to your stomach and he pushes on it, especially in the place where he feels himself slightly bulge your stomach.

"Fuck, can't wait to be a daddy huh? Fill me the fuck up already." You quip back to him, gathering confidence when you feel his thrusts become sloppier and you know he's about to cum with you.

"Watch your tone." He says into your ear while gripping your throat even tighter, cutting your breath off a little before kissing you on the lips and biting your lip while letting go of your throat to let you breathe.

As soon as he bites into your shoulder, you both moan out at the same time when you each release with one another. Your cum mixes with his as he shoots his seed deep inside your cunt. You feel it pulse inside you and your tongue lolls out at the feeling. Shinso keeps himself inside of you until your cunt takes every last drop and when he's content with how much he filled you, he slowly pulls out and watches the cum drip from you before using his fingers to push it back in.

"Keep it in there while I go get a towel to clean us up."

You whimper out a confirmation and as soon as Shinso steps out, you fall back onto the bed and giggle to yourself at the absolutely insane situation you just had. You'd never imagine that you'd fuck your coworker but here you are. You don't move when Shinso comes back and kisses you on the forehead and lips while he wipes in between your legs and anywhere else you may feel hot or sticky. You grab him before he moves away and you bring his forehead down to yours and give him a sweet kiss on his lips and you both smile at each other.

Shinso tosses the towel into the basket and slides under the covers next to you. He lifts his arm up to have you slide up next to him and he breathes out a content sigh.

"So...have you always wanted to fuck a cat?" You ask trying to break the ice.

Shinso laughs and gets beat red at your comment and turns his head to face you.

"No, no I haven't. To be clear, I didn't want to fuck a cat, I just wanted to fuck you."

"You surely did." You pause before your next thought. "Did you mean what you said when you were talking to the uh, well, cat-me?"

"All of it, yeah."

"Oh, cool, cool."

You stop for a minute and try and get comfortable but there's still an unease in the air.

"Look, if this was just a horny-sex haze type of thing for you I get it. I won't mention it again." You say while sitting up to talk to him, as your breasts fall from the sheets, Shinso can't help but stare. You giggle and snap your fingers in front of his face to get him to look at you.

"No y/n, it's not a one-time thing for me. I don't know what I feel for you but I know it's not a one-night stand type of feeling."

"Oh..good, cause I'm pretty sure I fell in love with your dick."

Shinso bursts out into a fit of laughter before pulling you down on top of him and kissing you intensely and having you straddle him.

"Funny, my dick fell in love with you too, kitten."

[hopebe]

Julie, this is my back alley to community, it means the world to me. Small towns, you hope you don't die in small towns. I can walk between puddles of street light or in complete darkness. I can freeze my ass off. I can see the hollowed- out trunks of trash bins strung up together from a second- story window and harbor questions about humanity. Well, how many times will I be accosted, offered a ride? I don't want a ride, I want to trail my fingers against the chainlink that separates me from an abandoned plot of land, mostly concrete with weeds. Do I look helpless, Julie? I hope I don't look helpless enough to become a target beneath the stars, because this is my walk to found family, just on the other side of the post office, the mail trucks with drivers who don't seem to use their lights at dusk. This is my road, my path, and I want to love these small nights, gathered in my hands, shoved in pockets, these menial rituals, these moments holding only meaning for me—as much as I love the people at the end of this road, not waiting for my arrival, no, but always willing to let me in.

[chadillacboseman]

Pit Fight Blues

Pairing: Implied Echo x Erron Black Warnings: Violence, sexual mentions, blood, language A/N: Just a short gift for @roofgeese of her OC, Echo, born from a discussion we had this morning :)

--

Erron prowled around the perimeter of the fight pit, hand resting at the ready on the grip of his pistol, as the other agent stared him down from the opposite end.

"You ready for a beating old man?" the agent sneered, sharp blue eyes crinkled above bright white teeth, bared like an animal caught in a trap.

"Think you got it backwards, boy," Erron growled, "Age don't make the man."

"Maybe not in the fight pit-" the agent ran his tongue over his lip, "but I bet it does elsewhere."

Erron paused for a moment, fingers flexing at the holster on his waist, trying to decipher what he meant.

"Come on, cowboy, think of that pretty little thing-" he paused to grin again and brandish his knife, "What's her name? Echo?"

Erron's face twisted into a snarl and he gripped his pistol in earnest.

"Hit a sore spot, Butch Cassidy? How do you think she feels when your old ass leaves this compound, hm? Maybe me n' the boys will have our way with-"

Erron leapt across the pit, his fist raised and poised to strike. The punch landed squarely against the agent's nose with a sickening crunch, sending him crumpling to the ground.

The crowd let out a deafening roar as the agent rolled away from a second strike and rose to his feet, pausing to wipe the blood from his nose and spit the rest into the dirt.

"What's she look like under those sweaters, old man?" the agent spat again and bright red splatters sprayed the ground at his feet, "I bet it's a pretty sight. I guess I'll find out soon enough."

Erron snarled, something loud and almost animalistic, as he charged at him once more; the agent dodged the first swing and returned a punch that caught the cowboy in the ribs.

Erron grunted and jumped out of range, clutching at his side with a grimace. The blow gave him pause only for a moment before he charged once more and sent a knee into the Agent's gut, forcing the air from his lungs with a wheeze.

Erron shoved him to the dirt with a grunt and straddled him as the agent struggled to catch his breath.

"I'm gonna make you eat your fuckin' teeth," Erron hissed.

The first punch sent the agent's skull crunching into the dirt.

The second broke his nose.

By the third, his face was unrecognizable, and Erron's was splattered with blood.

Alex swung the pit's chainlink door open and rushed inside as the crowd roared around them. In the stands, Echo watched, enraptured, as blood pooled in the dirt.

"Erron!" Alex grabbed the cowboy's shoulder, but was met with a sharp shove to his chest, "Erron, he's DOWN!"

Alex looped his arms through Erron's elbows and pulled him back as he kicked viciously at the agent's bloodied body.

"Fuck you!" Erron spat as Alex drug him toward the door and one of the medics rushed inside the pit to attend.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Alex shoved Erron through the doorway of the locker room, "Those are our people out there!"

"You didn't hear what he was sayin' about her, Alex!"

"About who?" Alex panted; he stayed in the doorway, arms on either side of the frame, blocking the cowboy's way back out to the pit.

"Echo!"

"What?" Alex blinked, but kept himself framed in the door.

"He was sayin' all these fuckin' things about her- sayin'-" Erron gritted his teeth and threw a punch at one of the metal lockers, leaving behind a fist-sized dent in his wake.

"Excuse me," Echo's deadpan voice startled Alex and he jerked his head over his shoulder to find her standing in his shadow outside the door, "Let me talk to him."

Alex lowered his arms reluctantly and let her pass by him, watching carefully as she approached Erron, who was sitting on a bench with his back to the door.

"Alex," Echo glanced up at him and the Turk cocked his head, "Can you give us some time alone, please?"

Alex nodded and turned to leave when Echo spoke again-

"And please...shut the door."

[zims-left-shoe]

Hey!! Was wondering if I could get some Dib x reader where the reader is a really ‘popular’ likeable kid at skool and Dib has liked them for a while but feels they’re “unattainable”? (Basically every high school romance movie ever lol) thanks!

I had a lot of fun with this one! It ended up being longer than I thought it would haha. 

It was a crisp autumn day, dead leaves crunching under your feet. Although it was dry in the moment, there was this feeling in the air that threatened a downpour. You stood behind your friends when they came to a stop, watching them with your hands stuffed deep in your pockets, feet shifting, the only sign to display your discomfort. Your eyes followed the notebook that was being tossed between your friends, a simple black spiral book, appearance only made special by the strange eye symbol scribbled in paint marker that adorned the front. Wicked cackles escaped your friends as they continued to throw the book around as if it were a football. 

"Give it back!" Ah. And then there was Dib. The strange boy in your class that went on and on about aliens and saving the earth from Zim, your other absurd classmate. He took another jump, swiping his arm out in a desperate attempt to reclaim what was his. His fingers gently grazed the binding, only to be yanked back by his trench coat at the hands of Torque Smacky. This was what qualified as a middle school prank. Admittedly, you had thought it was a bit funny at first. That was until your friends began to run to the edge of campus, spitting hurtful words back at the clearly unathletic Dib, who was wheezing and struggling to keep up with your group. 

"Soulstealers? Chupacabras? You are actually insane." Jessica laughed as she flipped through what seemed to be his personal supernatural journal.

"This is why nobody likes you, Dib. You're a freak." Smacky shoved him hard, his body colliding with the chainlink fence. You winced at the rattling it caused and the look in his eyes as he hunkered down into himself, slouching against the fence. The one thing you could say about him was that he was not one to give up easily, if at all. And yet, he looked defeated, deciding to take the lickings and wait until they lost interest. You couldn't take it anymore. 

You were always well liked by everyone. Everyone adored you and your pleasant attitude, always gravitating towards and revolving around you as if you were their sun. And although you stood behind those that you called your friends, you couldn't just sit there and watch how they treated Dib. He was definitely out there, sure, and maybe you didn't understand everything he said, but there was a line you had to draw. He was never hurting anyone. If he wanted to believe in aliens, who were you to stop him?

"Guys, that's enough. Knock it off." You spoke up for the first time in that encounter, snatching the book from Jessica's hands. Your friends, whom most would label as 'the popular crowd', all stared at you. Not necessarily in anger. More so shock. "Here." You tossed the notebook back to him, lips moving in a silent 'I'm sorry'. His hands fumbled the book, almost dropping it as he too stared at you with disbelief. Why would you help him? Weren't you friends with those who antagonized him?

"Thanks-"

"Shut it. Just feel lucky they stepped in." Smacky retreated a few feet back from him, glaring at him all the while.

"Let's go. It was getting boring anyways." Jessica turned swiftly on her heel, every one of your friends following her. Glancing one more time at Dib, you nodded to him, a movement that was so slight it was barely noticeable. Without another word, you jogged after your friends, catching up with them quickly.

Dib was left standing there, still leaning against the fence, notebook still clutched close to his chest. His mind was now full of questions, which was no different from its usual state. Why would you be nice to him? No one was ever nice to him. Especially not the popular kids. He began to wonder if, maybe, just maybe, you weren't as bad as the kids you spent your time with.

-

High school. Sometimes media would try and convince you that it was supposed to be some magical experience that would change your life, that your entire character could be rebuilt from the ground up. If that were completely true, why had everything remained an almost exact carbon copy of the way it's been since your earlier days? Sure, you had changed a little bit. Different music taste, new style, trivial things like that. But, your friends and position on the social ladder? Exactly the same. You had stayed in the popular pool, friends still adoring you, and despite questioning their actions and morals many a time, you adored them as well. If anything, you were more popular than ever.

Dib had also remained the same. Always squabbling with Zim, causing a scene, being made fun of and ostracized daily. He was still the local loser, but at this point he was owning it. He never did have the patience to be someone he was not. That was one thing you admired about him, one thing you could never be. You didn't think anyone you were close to could ever truly be themselves. The only thing that felt different about him was his more 'fuck you' attitude to those who antagonized him. He still wouldn't fight back, but he had developed a tougher skin, almost paying no mind to any insults. He knew what was right in his mind, if no one would believe him, their loss. 

Over the years, you had many classes with Dib. You had grown rather fond of him, at the very least he believed in something that wasn't ridiculously vapid. And, despite coming off as a bit of a nervous dork in some instances, he was surprisingly self-assured, for the most part. You were proud to admit to yourself that you looked forward to see him almost every day. 

Twisting the knob on the classroom door, you let yourself in, eyes resting on the familiar dark-haired nerd, his face taken up by the same large glasses he's had for as long as you could remember. Waving, you approached his table, watching him straighten up almost immediately.

"Morning, Dib. How're you doing?" You always liked to ask him how things were going for him, knowing that he never was given concern very often. No one in your class would ask him how his life was, his sister, at least to you, seemed to not care, and from what you knew, his dad was some prestigious scientist that was always busy. 

"Hey, Y/n. And, um, I'm doing alright! What about you?" His smile was bright, cheeks just the slightest bit flushed as he drummed his fingers on the tabletop. You felt a giggle escape you as you witnessed this. Every morning, despite having the exact same routine, he always seemed to be taken aback that you were asking how he was doing, that you were even the tiniest amount of invested in his life. 

"Fine, I guess. What about your ghosts and aliens?" You weren't sure that you believed in all of that crap, but if he took an interest in it and he wasn't harming anyone, who were you to stop him? "Oh, and I want an update on that werewolf you found in your trash." Remembering the story he had told you yesterday, you figured you would ask for a follow up to show your genuine encouragement.

"Oh, that! Uh, well...it turns out it was just some really hairy homeless guy rummaging through our garbage, but...as for aliens, I watched Zim's robot eat a baby. That was equal parts disturbing and intriguing." He shuddered, having flashbacks to whatever went down last night. 

"His dog that he brought to pet day last year?" Thinking back to that day, it was a little strange. All hell broke loose, his dog going absolutely insane. It was a blessing he didn't end up destroying the entire school. Only the east wing. Lady luck was on your side that day, that was for sure. 

“Yeah, GIR. The lip smacking noises really made it horrible." A cringe settled onto his features, and you felt it spreading to yourself as well. As much as you didn't believe that Zim was an alien (he was definitely odd and uncomfortable, that you would admit), you could see his dog consuming a human child.

"Geez. I'm sorry I asked." A chuckle fell from your lips, wishing to move past the disturbing imagery brought on by his response. Luckily for you, your teacher had announced the start of class, sending you back to your seat without having to think of a subject change. 

"Tired of your charity work yet?" Jessica asked as you sat down in your usual seat across from her. Pressing your lips in a tight line, you pulled out your notebook and pencil, choosing to ignore her comment. You had always hated the abysmal way your friends treated Dib. So what if he was a bit weird? You felt bad for him, he had no one to talk to besides Zim, and he ate lunch with his sister every day. "Come on, please don't tell me you actually want to be his friend."

"I never said that...it's just...he seems so lonely." Ever since you could remember, you had been surrounded by friends. It was near impossible to hate you. You had never known what it was like to be all on your own, cursed to be a lone wolf. To you, it seemed that being alone was all Dib had ever experienced.

"He deserves it. He's a freak." Her answers were short and snappy as she tired of the subject. 

"Does he?" Did anyone deserve to be lonely solely for being a little off beat? You were the only one of your friends, hell, even the whole school, who seemed to disagree with her notion. The social outcasts and rejects wouldn't even associate with him. 

"Look, Y/n. I like you, I really do. We're friends. We have been for a long time. But if you become his friend, people are going to start talking." Your gaze fell to the tabletop, tired of this not-quite-argument. "You're too nice. I know you pity him, but think about your standing here. Popularity comes with a price."

"I didn't ask to be popular, okay? And at least if I were his friend, my social circle wouldn't be full of a bunch of dicks and stuck up bitches!" You spat, patience completely snapping. Jessica sat in a stunned silence, her eyes wide. That was the first time you had ever actively stood up to her. After a moment, you realized you were just a tad harsh, although she did deserve it. She was still your friend after all, and in her own twisted way, she was trying to look out for you. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that."

"We can talk about it later at lunch. Just calm down, alright?" Jessica brushed stray strands of blonde hair behind her ear, sticking her nose deep in her textbook for the first time in months. Sighing deeply, your eyes drifted to Dib's seat. His glance had already been on you, so you had managed to catch his eyes. His shoulders tensed from being caught staring, color creeping up his neck to his face. Before he could turn away, your lips quirked into a slight smile as you waved to him. It took him a second to register, but he returned the wave, a dorky grin plastered on his face. Again, you just couldn't see what was so bad about him.

"Dib, I swear to god, do you ever listen to me when I speak? You break my immersion-"

"You break my face. Yeah, I know." I laid on the couch, watching my sister play whatever VR game she was into at the time. All I did was start to ask her a question, I had barely gotten one syllable out before she cut me off. "It's important, I swear."

"Let me guess, Zim is eating waffles again?" Her voice was irritated, and I'm sure inside that head of hers she was wishing me to be dead. 

"No, actually-"

"He's hiding in his toilet? Ooh, or maybe he's trying to work the toaster." Okay, so maybe I interrupt her for admittedly meaningless things sometimes. Fine, a lot of the times.

"This has nothing to do with Zim!" Now I had her attention. She hesitated for just the slightest second before she resumed playing again.

"Oh? This had better be good, Dib." Her voice was no longer threatening, rather it held curiosity. Although she would never say it to my face, she was intrigued by what I had to say. 

"I need advice." Now, normally Gaz would be the last person on earth I would go to for this kind of thing, but I had already tried my dad, and lesson learned, never seek romantic advice from a man who is married to science. So, I had already exhausted pretty much all of my options. The internet was surprisingly not much help either.

"On what? How to stop bothering your sister?" Her words didn't match her tone at all. Besides, I knew that if she really wanted me out, she would remove me by force. I was suddenly beginning to wonder if this was a bad idea. After all, Gaz was very much...how to put this lightly...not romantically inclined. Still, she was my only hope at this point, and really, all I needed was someone to vent to. 

"I was thinking more along the lines of cliché high school romance?" My voice became higher and quieter as the sentence went on, and I was just barely cut off by Gaz's groan. Despite her attitude, she powered off her headset out of her own volition, which meant she was definitely interested in whatever I had to say. I pushed myself to where I was sitting up, Gaz falling back onto the couch next to me. 

"You're joking, right? You're asking me for advice?" I couldn't believe it either.

"Just hear me out?"

Fine. But if it's stupid I'm leaving." I already knew she wouldn't say no, but she still had to pretend it was a chore to listen to me.

"Okay, so you know Y/n, right?"

"The popular kid? They're so out of your league, Dib." She sounded condescending yet not surprised. I figured she had caught me staring at them at lunch multiple times. I had probably been pretty obvious about it. Thinking about that made me cringe, because Y/n most likely knows I stare at them all the time. If they didn't already hate me before, I'm sure they do now, they probably think I'm some sort of creepy stalker. Well, that's not the worst thing I've been called at school, so I'll take it, I guess.

"I know! And I told myself I wasn't going to fall for them, but I did. They actually talk to me though! Every morning in first period, and they wave to me in the halls, and god they have the cutest smile-"

"Dib! Okay! I get it, you're in love or whatever."

"I never said I was in love! It's just a crush. There's a difference." I watched her roll her eyes so hard I thought she might be transported to another dimension. Even I knew deep down I was lying through my teeth. All the little things had made me fall deeper into whatever my infatuation with Y/n was. Every glance, every little quip, every greeting...they all made my heart flutter and I would feel sick to my stomach every time I thought about them. It was a satisfying kind of sick, though. I knew I had been carrying these feelings for a long time. They had always been the first, if not the only, person to stand up for me when the teasing became too much. Of course I was going to fall in love, what else was to be expected?

"Yeah, sure. Whatever you say. But, do you even talk to them? No, you don't."

"So?" She was right. I never went out of my way to approach them. We would share short and simple conversations, but only when they spoke to me first. I was always too scared. They were the only person who could make me nervous and doubt myself anymore. The reasonable part of me told me that if I just went up to them, they would welcome the conversation. But, something was always stopping me. I held them on a pedestal, so much so that I believed making any move at all to be impossible. Y/n for me is unattainable, someone I was never meant to have. They were part of the untouchables, the most popular and worshiped kids in school. I'm just the freakshow who attracts all the wrong kinds of attention. And yet, something was pushing me to just reach for it.

"You're going to shoot your shot, aren't you." Her voice was flat. It wasn't a question. Rather, a statement that we both already knew to be true. 

"Well, you know what they say. If you shoot for the moon, you're bound to at least land among the stars."

"I don't think that applies to this, unless your version of 'among the stars' is being taken out behind the school and beaten until you see stars." Ah, Gaz. Always so encouraging. What would I do without her?

"Do you think it's a bad idea?"

"Of course! It's a terrible idea! But, it would be kind of funny to watch..." A smirk crept onto her face, which would have been unnerving if my thoughts weren't already racing to think of how I would even accomplish this. 

"So, you're in?"

"I would never miss a chance to watch someone kick the shit out of you."

-

Without a doubt, you were spaced out. To the point where you barely noticed what had been left behind in your locker, almost crushing it with your multiple textbooks. 

"What the...?" You pulled out a small bouquet of flowers and a note from your locker, even more confused than when you first saw it. For starters, you weren't sure how it had gotten in there in the first place. You were sure it was locked and that no one knew the combo. Unless someone broke into it with brute strength or some advanced skillset. If that wasn't enough to drive you crazy, the note was anonymous. No name, no nothing. It was typed as well, so you couldn't even analyze the handwriting if you wanted to. The contents of the note contained a love confession, and you weren't quite sure where to even begin with suspects. There were many people who had crushes on you, some even within your own friend group. Even still, the note was odd. It sounded like nobody in particular, the wordage making it seem like it could be from anyone and no one at the same time.

"Hey, Y/n. What'cha got there?" Jessica came up behind you, eyeing the flowers with intrigue. The two of you were back to being on good terms. This was how your friendship normally worked, for as long as you could remember anyway. 

"A secret admirer, apparently." You mumbled, handing her the note to read. Clearly, the person had no intention of outing themselves. They were hoping for you to catch on. From the tone in the note, you guessed it had to come from someone who felt they had no place in confessing. That could be anyone, for literally any reason. Maybe they were your best friend, or a social reject. 

"No way! We have to find out who this is."

"I dunno, they seem to be trying really hard to keep their identity a secret."

"But what if it's someone hot?" She poked you in the side, her face pleading with you to let her assist in finding out who left the gift as she passed the note back to you.

"But what if it's Zim?" You doubted it was him. As far as you were concerned, you pretended he didn't exist, and he seemed to hate your guts, which was completely fine by you. The two of you burst out laughing as you put the flowers back in your locker so you could retrieve them after school. "But, maybe I don't want to know."

"Lame." She huffed as you began your walk to class. You folded the note, stuffing it deep in your pocket. You hated that you knew you wouldn't be able to let this go. You felt the need to solve the mystery. Although you had no clue where to even begin, there was one person you hoped it would be from. He was your main suspicion, even though a part of you wondered if that was due to wishing for it to be so.

"Can we please just be lowkey about this? If I decide to pursue this, I want to keep it hushed. Word spreads like wildfire here."

-

Well, you were absolutely right about one thing. Word travels fast in high school, especially if it's drama. Left and right, you had people asking if you had found the unknown Romeo who had broke into your locker. You were disappointed but not surprised. You had expected Jessica to talk. Her lips were about as tightly sealed as a window in summertime. So far, everyone had their own theories. The wildest one you had heard was that it was from one of your teachers. You were immediately disgusted with that, and how desperately you desired to unhear that statement. 

Nevertheless, you had started to feel more confident in your own personal favorite guess. There had been one certain individual who was particularly silent through the whole matter, almost uncharacteristically so. 

Lunch time. The perfect time to gain confirmation of your theory. Tray of borderline unedible garbage in hand, you strode to your usual table, which seated all of the school's finest and most elite in terms of the social ladder. Instead of taking a seat like everyone expected, you continued to walk, not stopping until you reached the very last table in the back, which sat only two: the Membrane kids. Setting your tray down, you took a seat across from Dib, who stared in utter shock and amazement. The sister looked up from her Game Slave, glance so brief you weren't entirely sure if it had even happened. Without a word, she rose from her seat, leaving the lunch room completely, most likely to continue playing in the hallway. Let's face it, no one was going to eat the shit they served anyway. You hoped he would say something, anything that would be incriminating. However, only the usual din of the cafeteria could be heard, the occasional murmur of your table switch slipping through. 

You couldn't handle any more of the surrounding clatter of trays, laughter, and indecipherable words, so you decided to speak. "Hey, Dib. You like mysteries, right?" The poor boy looked helpless, red up to the tips of his ears, eyes refusing to meet yours. 

"Sure..." You could feel his knee bumping the table as he bounced his leg at about a hundred miles per minute. You had him right where you wanted him, and he knew it. You both did. In that moment, you knew it was him. It had to be. He was acting even stranger than usual. Based on his behavior, he knew you had cracked the case. Thinking back, it should have been fairly obvious from the beginning. 

"Well, something strange happened this morning. And since mysteries are kind of your thing, I was wondering if you could help me?" You were trying to coax him into saying the words you needed so desperately to hear. And yet, he was so stubborn.

"Alright, I could, you know, give it a go, I guess." Maybe he wasn't stubborn, maybe this was him playing out his last hope that you still were clueless on who it could be.

"I found something interesting in my locker this morning. Some very pretty flowers and a lovely little note, but unfortunately, it was anonymous. So, I guess I have a secret admirer on my hands." By gauging his reaction, you could tell he wasn't about to relent any time soon. He nodded his head, lips pursed in a tight line.

"Well, that's a tough one." Vague answers, saying as little as possible. You were getting nowhere, and would be getting nowhere. He was really going to make you say it, wasn't he?

"Yes. I have my suspicions. Would you like to hear them?" He didn't respond at all, fingers drumming nervously on the table. He still wouldn't own up to it. You decided to give him one last chance to confess, saying no more and staring directly at him. Hoping the pressure would bring him to spill, you thought your breath would catch in your throat when he opened his mouth to speak.

"Did you do the math homework last night?" His voice was almost an octave higher than normal, and there was a slight wobble to it. You could only fix him with a glare. Unbelievable. He was trying to get out of this by changing the subject. There was no way in hell you were letting that happen.

"I know it's you, Dib."

"Oh...you do?" His voice was so soft and faint that you had to strain to hear it. His eyes fell to the floor, as if trying to will a wormhole to open beneath his feet to swallow him so he could be anywhere but there in that moment.

What Dib was expecting to happen was for laughter to spill from your lips, followed by you telling him that you could never in a thousand years like someone like him, that his chances were below zero. 

Some pearls of laughter did escape you, but it wasn't malicious. Even Dib, in his most insecure and vulnerable state could see that. Throughout the day, you were itching for this confrontation. You hoped it was him, you wanted it to be him. Not so you could throw it back in his face. This whole ordeal brought you to realize that you had somehow caught feelings for him as well. Your morning conversations about spooks, although mildly concerning at times, made your day, and you appreciated how passionate he was about his interests, even if you didn't completely understand them.

"Who knew you were such a dorky, hopeless romantic?" You didn't think it was possible, but the blush that stained his face darkened at your words that were broken by giggles. 

"So...you liked the flowers? Or were you just saying that?" His eyes finally met your own for the first time in what felt like ages. You could see he was slowly relaxing, although to him it probably felt as if he were still walking on eggshells. 

"Of course. I'll put them in my room when I get home." His lips pulled back into the cutest smile you had ever seen, and you thought your heart had melted on the spot. "Can I see your phone?" You blurted out, embarrassed of yourself. What ever happened to playing it cool?

"Should I be concerned?" A hint of worry crept into his voice, but regardless, he pushed his phone over to you. Taking it, you opened contacts and input your number, adding a small heart next to your name. As you glanced around the lunchroom, eyes had started to become glued to you. You had been sitting there much too long, and many were taking notice. Standing up, you slid the phone back to him, taking your uneaten tray in your hands.

"Call me sometime." Those were the final few words that were spoken as you made your way back to your usual table, leaving him to sit and stare in disbelief. As lunch drew to a close, you would shoot Dib occasional looks, waving happily whenever you caught his eyes. You let yourself dream that this was possibly the beginning of some blossoming high school romance. In your position, you had your pick of virtually anyone at your school. Nevertheless, you wouldn't have wanted anyone else to be your secret admirer. 

[gendercraft]

Outast: Revisited [Chapter Eight: Waylon]

Read on ao3

Synopsis: I’m rewriting Outlast where the first game and Whistleblower are combined, Miles and Waylon are more connected, and also they kiss

Trigger warnings: Sexual assault plus everything already in the game; eye gore; the gore actually gets kinda intense here; let me know if i missed anything

The warm gas spilt over Waylon in the decontamination chamber. His heart raced, his muscles tensed; he was ready to run. The doors were barely open by the time he made it out. 

Manera cut him off as he flew through the labs. Waylon skidded to a stop just in time, the buzzsaw tickling his nose. The saw swung, and Waylon ducked, gasping. Stumbling backwards, he staggered to his feet, and caught the saw just as it came down on his chest. 

Fabric tore, sterile air brushed against his chest. Waylon yanked the saw as hard as he could, and it came free from Manera’s grip, only to hurdle over his head, down towards the decontamination chamber. 

Manera and Waylon stared. Waylon was tense, ready to fight. Manera’s gaze slipped past his, landing on the still buzzing saw. 

Throwing Waylon to the ground, Manera raced towards his weapon. Waylon hit the concrete with an ‘oof’ but immediately stumbled up and sprinted for the door. 

He made it back to the hall and didn’t stop until he reached the chamber with the victim. Heart sinking, he stepped inside. 

The man was dead. Keeping an ear out for the saw, Waylon knelt down and looked closer. It was a security guard. A little bit of weight lifted off Waylon’s shoulders. The security guards had been cause for death even before all this, he couldn’t imagine what this man might have done to patients in the chaos. 

He straightened up and took a second to close his eyes. His mind tried supplying him with thoughts of family, things this man might be leaving behind, but Waylon pushed it away. He wasn’t a man. He was a Murkoff employee. Waylon had better things to be worrying about. 

Like if Miles Upshur would be waiting for him in the prison.

He stepped through the chamber and it led him into the dense gray fog outside, a staircase encased in chainlink. Reloading his battery, he hurried down the stairs. When he arrived on the dirt, he brought his night vision up, only to wince at the brightness. Bringing it down, though, he couldn’t see two feet in front of him. There was no way to cut through the fog. He’d have to be blind. 

“No! NO!” 

A scream. Is it him, the cannibal? Could be pleasure or pain, Waylon wouldn’t guess. Did Manera even know? His voice sounded like… something I wanted while watching the Engine. Its only message was hunger, to crush and consume. 

Waylon whipped around. No one was there. 

“You were mine!” 

Peeking through his camera, he zoomed to the building, one of the upper windows. Manera stood in the frame, face twisted. 

I’m going to try and forget it, Lisa. If I get out of here, I’m going to come back to you. 

He found his way to an open chainlink door, the floor covered in bloody footprints. The trees surrounding him were dead, bare branches arching into the air and poking at his back. Footsteps sounded from every direction, sometimes far away, sometimes close by, and the occasional scream or curse carried in the howling wind. Part of Waylon was curious about what else was going down in the asylum; how many people were trying to escape? How many were succeeding? How many were just venting, killing out their frustrations? The other part of him knew he’d never recover if he found out. 

Two patients ran across his vision, almost entirely obscured by the fog. Waylon held his hands out and got ready to dash but neither of them saw or cared that he was there. He swallowed. There was never any telling who’d attack him in this place. 

A cobble path appeared in the dirt. Waylon followed it to a stone staircase leading to the left and the right. The right was locked, so he headed through the chainlink doorway on the left. It was a small alley between the prison watchtowers and a bricked-in basketball court the patients were supposedly allowed in every now and then. Emphasis on supposedly. 

“Three hundred sixty four…” 

A grunt, a smack. Waylon trailed around the brick until he found a grated door. He zoomed in on his camera, and his stomach lurched. A patient, shooting hoops, with a human head. 

The head looped around the rim and smacked to the ground. Blood dusted the concrete, and the patient strolled over to pick it up like nothing was amiss. 

He’s playing alone and losing. Waylon took a step back. That is what the game is. 

There is a mathematical proof, if you add 1 + 2 + 3 + 4 + 5 and so on up to infinity, you can arrive at an answer. If you stop shy of infinity, you have an indescribably large number. If you continue all the way to infinity, you arrive at—1/12. Negative 0.0833333 repeating. I’m losing my grip on things. 

Waylon was thinking about the drive to Mount Massive, 400 miles in a rented truck. The job that showed up just in time to cover their bills, their debts, the insurance. The boys sleeping in the back. Nothing but AM radio. Gospel, Country-Western, late night paranoiac talk radio. They sang Patsy Klein songs and laughed at conspiracies of aliens and ghosts. Mile marker numbers passing in headlights. 

I don’t want to die here. 

There was no way forward, so he backtracked. Out of the previously locked right side of the staircase, a patient came running out holding a pipe. Waylon leapt back but the patient ran right down the stairs and disappeared into the fog. Swallowing, Waylon pushed forward through his abandoned open door. 

The ground was wet. Waylon’s bare feet ached, stung, burned. He’d never felt grosser in his life, covered in sweat and blood and snot. 

He didn’t have time to think about that. Finding a hole in the fence, he dropped himself onto a metal walkway. It clanged as he rushed through. Dropping down to the concrete at ground level, he found a ladder that led him up to the courtyard. 

Mount Massive’s prison courtyard was split up into several very small sections by chainlink. Most of the doors would be locked—a maze. He passed by a few wooden picnic tables and reached a hole in the fence that allowed him into the main pathway. The metal poked and scraped at his sides as he slid through. 

Despite the fog, it was a bit more well-lit here. With all the puddles, it must’ve rained recently, and looked like it was about to again. 

He paused as voices purred from the shadows. 

“I would like to kill him.” 

“As would I.” 

Waylon’s hairs stood on end. Two men, naked, identical, passed by the locked chain door inches from Waylon’s face. They disappeared into the fog. 

They can’t find you. Keep going. 

He kept going. 

He arrived at another small area with a picnic table, surrounded in chain link and brick, only for the two men to enter through a side door. One took the right side, the other took the left. 

They stared. 

Waylon inched towards the door they came in from. 

A smirk curled on Leftie’s mouth. Waylon prepared himself to run, to leap, to dodge, anything, but the twins just stared, grinning, smirking, eyes twinkling. Their machetes glinted in the moonlight. Where the fuck did they get machetes? 

Waylon slipped through the door and slammed it closed behind him. He broke into a sprint, racing through the fenced in main path, stepping on broken glass and twigs and rocks. Slamming a chainlink door open, something flew in front of his face. He yelped and stopped. Glancing back, panting, he frowned. Did they follow him at all? They were nowhere in sight. 

He looked down, and his mouth went dry. Another head. What was with these fucking freaks playing basketball with heads? Could they really find nothing else? 

He zoomed in with his camera. The hoop was full of carnage, dripping body parts, red all over the ground below. A shuffle behind him—he whipped around. The twins were coming. They’d been following after all. 

Stumbling into the court, he dodged the blow from the player, who rasped out, “Shirts and skins or fuck off!” 

The player shoved Waylon towards the exit, a ladder leading up the side of the building. “Spoilsport!” 

“Yeah, my bad,” Waylon gasped. The gate creaked open. The twins stepped inside. Waylon ran for the ladder. It led him up to a watch tower, where he took a moment to lock himself inside. He pulled out one of the wooden chairs and dropped his face in his hands. 

I don’t want to die here. 

Something on the table caught his eye, the words ‘exposed to the Engine.’ Pulling the email closer, Waylon squinted at the paper. 

 From: j.billings@murkoffcorp.us.com

To: k.vigalando@murkoffcorp.us.com

Subject: re: “Patient” Samul 

 Kurt, we’ve got another one, and I’m not sure you’re gonna be able to check it off as “Psychopathic Proximity Disorder.” 

 Security guard all the way up in the Admin block is our latest non-patient employee to start seeing Wernicke’s fairy tales. He was never directly exposed to the Engine, never even made it below level 1 in the building. It would be an enormous breach of protocol and security if doctors were speaking of the Walrider within hearing of a contracted security guard. And seems vanishingly improbable that he would stumble into such an obscure mythological story on his own. 

 It’s too similar to the Dr. Samul case, or the others before him. It’s one thing for formally sane medical personnel to fall under the delusions of their patients. It’s another thing entirely for those beliefs to be… I don’t know. Airborne. We need to talk in person. 

 Billings. 

 Waylon stuffed the paper in his pocket. He had no idea what to make of it. Wernicke… Waylon had heard that name before. Checking through the other documents he’d collected, he found mention of Wernicke’s research. Wernicke was why the Walrider existed. Wernicke created the engine. 

Wernicke was the reason he was trapped here. 

He forced himself to leave the safety of the watchtower to head across the catwalk. A patient ran past him. 

“Shhh! Shut up! Shut up, all of you! We’re not alone down here. It’s just what they want us to think. You’re going to draw it. Shh!” 

We’re not alone down here. 

Waylon swallowed. 

He reached another watchtower and climbed a ladder, bringing him even higher. A patient stood at the railing, looking down, looking very much like he was contemplating. 

“Don’t trust them,” he said with a sigh. 

Waylon brought his camera up. 

“They’ll tell you it’s science but it’s not. They were… waiting for us. In this place. Billy understood. They’ve always been here.” 

He wiped his sweaty palms on his jumpsuit and headed for the nearest door. It let him into a larger building, and down the hall by the flickering light, a few patients ran past. Blood splattered the walls. Waylon passed by a barricaded door cracked open, the shadows on the wall beating another to death. Everywhere he went, patients were running, hiding, killing each other, barricading themselves in doors. 

Waylon finally found his way to the security room, where a dozen screens showed the entire prison block. 

And the radio. 

Waylon broke into a sprint. 

“Leadville 911, what’s your emergency?” 

“Mount Ma—” 

A hand closed over the radio. An elbow slammed into Waylon’s nose, his vision blurring as he choked and fell on his back. Jeremy Blaire smashed a police baton into the radio, once, twice, three times—Waylon had to run. He jumped to his feet and headed for the door, only for the baton to crash into his face and land him back on the floor, staring at the ceiling. 

“Fuck!” He gasped. 

Blaire climbed on top of him and pressed the baton to his neck. “Waylon Park!” He laughed dryly. “You couldn’t just…” A growl built in the back of his throat. “You couldn't just keep your mouth shut. You couldn’t just play along. But you’re done talking now.” 

Waylon’s throat burned. His vision was pulsing, his eyes throbbing. His head was going to explode. 

Something crashed. 

Blaire looked back. 

He climbed off of Waylon, who sucked in a huge, gasping breath, and waved the baton at him. “Do me a favour and die here, Park,” he snapped, then ran from the room. 

Waylon couldn’t get up for a good few minutes. He gasped for breath, holding his throat, his heart racing through his entire body. 

He ended up on all fours, dragging himself to the doorway. He was almost to his feet when a body flew through the once-closed door that led deeper into the asylum. Huffing grunts and snorts sounded down the hall. Waylon pressed himself against the back of a desk, eyes wide. He peeked around the side. 

Chris Walker.

[yandere-daydreams]

A Yandere!Hawks/OC piece for a very lovely anonymous commissioner, featuring her character, Miya, and the foul-feather man himself. This might be my first time writing for Keigo, but I feel like it went well enough. I may have taken a few creative liberties with his dialogue, though...

Word Count: 2.1k

TW: Non-Con, Semi-Public Sex, Groping, Entitlement and Delusional Mindsets. 

It wasn’t that Miya didn’t like Keigo.

She didn’t like him, but she couldn’t say she disliked him, either. She respected his work as a hero, and appreciated the levity his reputation held, even if she wasn’t particularly fond of the young Pro when he was out of costume. Like everyone else, she’d had her run-ins with him, but as time went on and her life progressed, she seemed to see more of him, hear more of him, whether it was that laugh or that smirk or that lazy, smug tone that permeated his voice like rainwater overflowing from a gutter after a heavy storm. She couldn’t bring herself to hate him, but one day, she might.

One day soon, preferably.

That’d make rejecting him much easier than it was now.

Even now, it was difficult not to grit her teeth as her eyes darted towards his shoes, moving in pace with her own as she walked, her stride much faster than it had to be despite Keigo offering to take the lead. The incident had been over an hour ago, and Miya would like to think that she hadn’t seemed shaken. It was just a petty criminal, a thief looking for someone who’d cower at the first sight of claws and scales, but she’d always found it difficult to be intimidated by a quirk, however villainous it appeared. She’d been ready to defend herself, but Keigo was on the attack before she could make a move, and he was more than happy to take the credit when all the newscasters and amateur journalists arrived to document his feat, leaving Miya swept up in the chaos. He’d insisted on walking her home, afterward, and she hadn’t been able to think of a good excuse to tell him to fuck off.

How many times had he saved her, now? It could’ve been that they followed similar routes, or the recent influx in crime, but this had to be the fifth time he’d come to her rescue, if not the sixth. Vigilant crime-fighters weren’t an issue, but it was hard not to feel… unnerved by the frequency. Up until a few months ago, she’d never even seen a hero on patrol, and now one was trailing her, ready to lunge at the slightest hint of a treat. It was just her ego talking, she knew that, but her ego could be loud. Unignorable at the worst of times, unfortunately.

Keigo huffed, drawing her out of her thoughts, raising his arms and cupping his hands behind his head, forming a make-shift support as he glanced idly towards the sky. “Awfully thoughtful tonight,” He commented, filling the uncomfortable silence. He was smiling, but it was one of his reflexive grins, reassuring to most but off-putting to anyone who spent more than a moment in his company. Miya wasn’t proud to belong to the latter group. “You’re not gettin’ sick of me, are you? I’d hate to turn you off your favorite hero.”

“I prefer Endeavor,” She mumbled, more for herself than for him. Her eyes darted to the sidewalk, then the buildings on either side of the road. It was late, by now, so most of the shops were closed, but she could still see the signs and brands posted outside, each name more unrecognizable than the last. “Hawks--”

Keigo clicked his tongue, his smile faltering, a frown beginning to pull at the corners of his lips. “I thought I told you to call me--”

“Hawks,” She affirmed, her tone more authoritative than it had to be. “Are you sure this is a shortcut? None of this seems familiar, and it feels like we’ve gone too far… I think I’d know the best way to get to my own apartment, by now.”

Her skepticism earned her a glance out of the corner of his eye, half-obscured by his sleeve as he shifted to get a better look at her. With an inaudible sigh, he dropped his arms back to his sides, his smile softening as he took her wrist. She opened her mouth, but Keigo didn’t give her a chance to get anything out, holding a finger to his lips as he spoke. “Have I ever been wrong?” He asked, ignoring her hasty nod. “Just trust me, I’ll have you home in no time.”

Before she could protest, he was pulling her into a narrow alleyway between a convenience store and a larger, unnamed building, the space so narrow, they struggled to walk side-by-side. Away from the streetlights, it took her eyes a moment to adjust, but sight did little to alleviate her confusion. Rather, she only grew more unnerved as a fence came into view, chainlink but tall, too tall to easily be scaled. Again, she moved to voice her thoughts and again, Keigo had other plans. Plans that seemed to have less and less to do with keeping her safe.

She wasn’t sure how it happened. One second, she was just turning towards him, and the next, she was facing a brick wall, her hands coming up reflexively to support herself, Hawks’ arm wrapped around her waist and his chest pressed against her back, the bulk of his attire doing little to stifle how suffocated she suddenly felt, dread welling up and boiling over before she had a chance to stifle it. She tried to scream, but a downy glove was quick to stop her, shooting to her mouth and muffling the sound. Keigo only kissed the nape of her neck, cooing something unintelligible, like he had the right to try and calm her down.

“C’mon, baby, don’t make this harder than it had to be,” He muttered, a finger slipping below the waistband of her shorts. Instantly, panic set in, and she threw her weight against him, grappling and fighting for any opening she could get. Keigo’s hold tightened, and he let out a soft growl as he shoved her against the wall, two feathers shooting out from his wings and finding her sweater, long sleeves soon pinned to the solid stone, trapping Miya with them. Still, Keigo was gentle, slow, taking his time to work her shorts down to her thighs as if he didn’t have any place better to be. “We could’ve done this your way, but you just had to huff and groan until you lost your chance. We’re gonna do this how I want to, now.”

“Fucking pervert,” She spat, but her voice died in her throat as he pawed at her ass, pressing another kiss into the dip of her shoulder. Fabric rustled, something soft falling to the ground, his now free hand brushing past her thigh to rub against the seat of her panties, tracing her slit for a moment before pushing distinct, measured circles into her clit. Even with a layer of cloth and disgust separating them, his expertise was undeniable, each tic of his fingers and buck of his hips against her sending a shock through her system, uninvited but not unpleasant. Miya grit her teeth, her jaw locking into place and her eyes clenching shut in an effort to block him out, but there was nothing she could do to ignore the long, low whistle he let out as her hips twitched, dampness just beginning to accumulate on his fingertips. Keigo only nuzzled into her back, nearly purring in satisfaction.

“This might’ve been more romantic, if you weren’t so stubborn,” He mumbled, absentmindedly pulling her panties to the side as he spoke. Abruptly, two fingers were pushed inside of her, leaving her to clench and adjust as he scissored her open, alternating between curling and pumping, whichever made her knees buckle and needy, pathetic whimpers work their way past her lips. “Been planning it out for a while, since the first time I saved my little damsel in distress. Woulda bought you roses, taken you back to my place, all that shit. Guess we’ll save that for that later, though.” His palm came up, grinding against her clit, and Miya gasped, involuntarily pushing herself into his chest. Keigo chuckled, his ministrations becoming more aggressive. “Shoulda waited this time, too. You were just bein’ so cold, I didn’t think I could help myself.”

Miya tried to speak, but all that came out was a pitiful, incoherent stutter as he pulled away, his grip moving to her waist as he dragged her back, forcing her to brace herself against the unforgiving wall and pray for mercy. She felt the tip of his cock press against her cunt, but that was all the warning she got before he was pushing inside her, refusing to stop until he’d bottomed out with a blatant, shameless groan. The stretch was painful, too snug to mean anything good, but that didn’t stop Keigo from grinding against her, starting to thrust just as her legs gave out, leaving Keigo to hold her up. If he cared, though, she couldn’t tell, his hold on her hips growing bruising as he moved inside her, spikes of pleasure and pain striking at her core in unforgiving, unyielding waves. Tears blurred her vision, welling in the corners of her eyes, but moans mixed with the sobs, forming something hellish in the middle ground. Keigo cooed, his tone turning delicate, infantilizing. Adoring, if she was being optimistic, but Miya couldn’t find it in herself to be so positive.

“You’re so tight, baby. Are you still scared of me?” He snapped his hips against hers, making a point of relishing in the high-pitched whine that crawled out of her throat. She stopped making an effort to be quiet, suddenly finding herself thankful for the passing cars, the footsteps of distant pedestrians, her own breathy, heated pants. Anything to distract her from the wet, sloppy sounds of Keigo fucking into her cunt. “Don’t worry, we’ll change that,” He assured, before the air hitched in his lungs, his pace losing rhythm for the blink of an eye. “Or, maybe we won’t. I’m gonna take such good care of you… I get to be selfish about this, yeah?”

It might’ve been the adrenaline, or the fear or Keigo’s intensity or anything, but when one of his hands fell past her waist, reaching around to tease her clit… That was all she needed to clench around him, her chest seizing up and her knees knocking together as she came, the break from that constant, thudding pressure coming as a relief. And yet, it didn’t do anything to block out the feeling of Keigo pulling out, barely getting a fist around his cock before something thick and hot coated the back of her thigh.

There was silence, for a moment, only broken by the labored breaths both of them struggled to take. Miya didn’t have to worry about it for very long, though.

He kissed her jaw, the two red fathers keeping her pinned falling to the ground, lifeless. She could hear him fishing something out of his coat’s pocket, but she couldn’t bring herself to look at what it was. “Close your eyes, alright? We’re going home.”

A rag pressed against her lower face, and the world around her went black.

~

Miya was sore when she woke up, her head pounding and her legs aching despite the plush surface she’d been laid on. She was almost tempted to lean into it, to go back to sleep and worry about the pain another time, but a dip in the mattress was enough to inject a cold, sobering dose of reality into her veins, the severity of her situation slowly beginning to dawn on her. Hesitantly, she sat up, keeping her gaze focused on satin sheets and more pillows than any one person could ever need, her survey ending when her eyes landed on the sleek, polished metal shackle wrapped around her ankle, connected to a seamless tether that fell off the side of the bed. Miya felt herself deflate, her hope spiraling as quickly as her pride had.

She almost didn’t feel the lithe fingertips soon rubbing at her shoulders, a familiar face leaning into her side. “Don’t be too mad at me, princess,” Keigo mumbled, his voice quiet, comforting. As soothing as it was repulsive. “The chain’ll come off as soon as you come around. Be good for me, and I won’t have to make things any worse.”

“You kidnapped me,” She retorted, but her voice was weak, barely audible. She just glared, biting the inside of her cheek. “Hawks--”

“Keigo. You’re supposed to call me Keigo.” His hold around her shoulder tightened, and Miya cringed, crying out breathlessly, but Keigo only laughed, the sound forced, volatile.

Cruel.

“But, we’ll have plenty of time to work on that, won’t we?”

[metaphorical-love-for-a-car]

Sunshine After Rain-- Connor (RK800) x Reader (Part 2)

Summary; After the death of your little brother, Cole, your dad hated androids. He blamed them for Cole's death. Hank couldn't stand to be around them. How the hell are you supposed to tell him that your soulmate is an android?

Warnings; swearing, terrible writing

Word Count; 3.2k

Notes;

Part One

Your mind felt heavy. How could your soulmate possibly be an android? There was no way you could tell Hank, not at the moment, at least. You glanced over at him. He was sitting at his desk, pouting over whatever Fowler just told him. You knocked on the captain's office door. Fowler looked up from his paperwork and motioned for you to enter. "I gotta get some air. I'll be back at some point this afternoon." You started to leave, but he called you back in.

"Actually, I'm gonna need you to stick around. An AX400 attacked its owner and kidnapped the guy's daughter. It was spotted down in the Raven Dale district." He reached into a bin and pulled out a sealed bag containing a pink sweater. "I want you to go down there with Hank and Connor to help them track down the kid. Her dad brought this by this morning." You carefully took the bag and examined it. "You'll be able to get some air in the Raven Dale district, right?" You sighed, nodding.

As you walked out of Fowler's office, you saw Hank shove Connor against a wall. Hank yelled at Connor to stop pissing him off. Another officer politely got Hank's attention back to the case at hand. "Hey, dad, Fowler wants me to tag along to see if I can help track the kid down." You called out, catching up to his retreating form.

"Good, I'll have someone to help me keep that plastic bastard in check." You rolled your eyes.

"I'm sure he's not that bad." Hank shot you a disgusted look.

"You've obviously hardly been around the thing. It's fucking annoying."

To save time, the three of you rode together in Hank's car. No one said a word. Awkward silence reigned until Hank started blasting heavy metal. Every once in a while, you would accidentally make eye contact with Connor in the rearview mirror, but you would both quickly look away. You tried to keep you attention on your dog and the case, but your mind kept roaming to the incident with Connor. Sure, he was pretty handsome, but how would a relationship with an android even work? You shook your head in an attempt to clear all the thoughts that were cluttering your mind.

As soon as the car stopped, you clamored out. Hank raised a brow at you but didn't say anything. He walked over to another officer, and the two started questioning the nearby witness. You attached the leash to your dog's collar and led it out of the car. A hand wrapped around your arm, and color exploded before your eyes. You gasped, turning to face Connor. "I do not understand what is happening every time we make contact. My programing is unable to process the circumstances. I feel it is best to remind you, (y/n), that I am an android. I am not a living being capable of having a soulmate." You pulled away from his grip.

"I never said you were," you retorted. Connor nodded.

"I am glad we can agree on that." You rolled your eyes and snatched the evidence bag from the car. Hank walked over to the two of you. He and Connor started talking about deviants having emotions. You opened the bag and carefully pulled out a corner of the soft fabric, holding it out to your dog's direction. It sniffed the sweater before turning its nose to the air.

"It's been raining a lot. Hopefully we can still track it down." Hank crossed his arms, watching the dog sniff around. The dog barked, leading you across the street. You pushed open a gate, allowing your dog to investigate a broken down car. It then made its way to a hole in a chainlink fence separating the lot from an abandoned house. The dog barked again, pawing at the fence. "We got a lead!" You called out. You got down on your knees and crawled through the hole. Moments later, Connor was following suit.

Hank and the other officers used bolt cutters to remove the lock on the front gate. Your dog tugged on its leash, trying to go towards the house. You looked at Connor and nodded. He went in front of you and knocked on the door. "Anybody home?" He shouted. The two of your waited a moment. You could hear shuffling inside. Connor swung the door open and marched inside. You stood in the doorway. Your eyes scanned the area, and your hand hovered over the pistol in your belt. Connor approached the damaged android that was sitting at a table in the middle of the room. The other android, Ralph, swore that he had not seen anyone. Your dog sniffed the floor then snorted. You loosened the leash, allowing the dog to follow the scent trail. You slowly crept closer to the staircase while Connor looked around the main threshold.

Without warning, Ralph leapt from the table and grabbed you. His arms tightened around you. You hardly breathe, let alone move from his grasp. He yelled at the AX400 to run. Your dog snarled and barked wildly. "Down!" You shouted at the animal. The last thing you needed was for it to attack one of the androids or the little girl. The dog laid on the ground as commanded but continued to snarl at Ralph. Connor pulled Ralph away from him, shoving Ralph to the ground. Hank jogged into the house.

"What the hell is going on?"

"It's here. Call it in!" Connor shouted before dashing out the door. You picked up the leash and went to follow him, but Hank blocked your path.

"Are you okay? You've been acting weird all morning."

"Dad, I'm fine. Shouldn't we focus on the task at hand?" You huffed, moving around him. You ran out of the house. Another officer told you what direction they went. "Then why the hell are you just standing here?" you muttered, dashing down the sidewalk. You dodged civilians as you thundered down the street with your dog at your side. You saw an officer dash down an alleyway and followed. He aimed his gun at the deviant, but Connor stopped him from shooting. You all watched as the deviant and the little girl slid down to the highway. Hank came up from behind, clearly out of breath.

"Oh, fuck. That's insane."

"There's no way they'll make it across alive." Connor started to scale the fence, but Hank pulled him back down. They started arguing about whether he should go after them or not. Connor decided to ignore Hank and continue to climb the fence. You reached up and grabbed his arm. He looked down into your eyes. "Come on, Connor. We don't need you getting destroyed again. It'll just slow down the investigation,” you tried to reason. He looked out onto the highway, and you followed his gaze. You watched the different colored vehicles zip down the road. You glanced back up at him. "Connor, please, just get down from there. We found them once, I'm sure we'll be able to find them again." Connor blinked slowly.

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY

He slowly climbed back down, and you removed your hand from his arm, sighing as the color drained from your vision.

You and Hank started walking back to the car. "How the hell did you do that?" he inquired with raised brows. You shot him a confused look. Hank scoffed. "How did you get it to listen to you? The damn thing seems to never hear a word I say." You shrugged.

"I don't know. Probably because of my charming personality, which is something you seem to lack." You playfully elbowed his side. Hank gave an exasperated laugh.

"Oh yeah, very funny." He stopped, putting a hand over his stomach. "I'm starving. We should grab a bite before heading back to the station." You smiled, already knowing where he was thinking about going.

"Hell yeah!" You climbed in the backseat, letting Connor sit shotgun. Hank turned up the music as soon as the engine sputtered to life. You gasped and gently shook Hank's shoulder. "Dad, play Killer Queen!" Hank rolled his eyes at your childish antics but complied, reaching up to adjust the stereo. You smiled and sang along to the music that was blasting from the old car's speakers. You poked Hank's shoulder until he finally started to sing too. "Connor, join in! You're the only one not singing." He stared at you with furrowed brows. "Quit being a party pooper and sing!" He turned his gaze to Hank, who just shrugged.

"Might as well give in Connor, they'll just keep buggin' ya until you do." Connor sighed. He mouthed along to the words. You lightly thumped his temple.

"That's not singing," you teased. Connor rolled his eyes and finally joined in. The three of you sang without a care in the world. It took him a while to warm up, but Connor eventually started singing as loud as you. "She's a killer queen! Gunpowder, gelatin dynamite with a laser beam-- guaranteed to blow your mind!"

"I swear, sometimes you act like you're still a child," Hank said as he parked the car. When he climbed out, you leaned forward to look at Connor. He was smiling.

"See, wasn't that fun?" He slightly tilted his head with a hum.

"Yes, I suppose it was." You smiled back at him before climbing out of the car. Connor stared at his lap. His brows knitted together. He wasn't supposed to develop emotions. He wasn't supposed to have a soulmate. He's an android, not a living being. He wouldn't let himself become a deviant.

You caught up with Hank at the counter of the little food truck. Although it wasn't the healthiest of choices, Chicken Feed made one damn good burger. You weren't too hungry, so you just ordered some tater tots and a soda. The owner, Gary, was a good friend of Hank's. He usually didn't charge either of you for your food, which you were very grateful for. As the two of you waited for your orders, Connor came to stand beside Hank. "Look, you don't have to follow me around look a poodle," he huffed. Connor tried to apologize to Hank, which made him laugh. You thanked Gary when he handed over your food. You followed Hank over to one of the tall tables nearby, and Connor followed behind you. The android made a snarky comment about how you both shouldn't eat your meals because it was unhealthy. Hank shrugged and continued to eat his burger, while you threw a tater tot at Connor.

"Unlike you, we only live once. So I will continue to eat whatever the hell I want." Hank snorted, and Connor looked slightly offended by the fact that you threw a tater tot at him. There were a few brief moments of silence before Connor spoke again.

"Is there anything you'd like to know about me?" Hank wrinkled his nose.

"Hell no.. Well, yeah, why did they make you look so goofy and give you that weird voice?" You laughed aloud but quickly covered your mouth to stifle your giggles. Hank looked slightly proud at his joke while Connor just raised a brow. He then explained that he was specifically designed to work harmoniously with humans. Hank nodded, as if he understood. "Well, they fucked up." You snorted.

"Leave him alone, dad. You're not the best looking either." Hank scoffed and rolled his eyes. A wide smile crossed your face.

"Don't you fucking dare say it."

"You're giving him grief about having a weird voice when you're the one that sounds like Mr. Krabs from SpongeBob!" you said in between laughs. Hank nudged you with his elbow, and you retaliated by throwing a tater tot at him. Connor cleared his throat and suggested that they reconvene by discussing the deviant cases. You sipped on your soda as they talked. You were only half paying attention, glancing at the two in between bites.

"Adapting to human unpredictability is one of my key features," he said with a wink. You started choking on your drink. Hank looked at you quizzically. You grimaced and cleared your throat. You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks.

"Sorry, it went down the wrong way." You coughed before popping the last tater tot into your mouth.

Connor started to blink rapidly. His LED indicator flashed. He alerted the two that he had just received information concerning a deviant case not far from their current location. Connor suggested that they go investigate once you two finished your meals. With that, he turned on his heel and headed back to the car. Hank turned to face you. "So, what was all that about?" You feigned confusion, and he just raised a brow at you, waiting for you to answer.

"Nothing, dad. Like I said earlier, I'm fine." Hank hummed and sipped on his drink, clearly not believing you. You rolled your eyes and threw your trash in a nearby trashcan. "Well, since you've got another case, I guess I'll be sticking around a little while longer."

You followed Hank out of the elevator. Casting a glance over your shoulder, you saw Connor still standing in the elevator with his eyes closed. "What is he doing?" You looked over at Hank. He threw his hands up.

"I don't understand half the things he does. Hey, Connor!" The android opened his eyes to see the two of you staring at him. "Did you run out of batteries or what?" He apologized, stating that he was making a report to CyberLife. You raised your brows in awe.

"You can do that just by closing your eyes?" Connor nodded. "That's so cool! I wish I could do that. It would make paperwork hella easier." Hank snorted.

"You got that right." He started walking down the hall, and you motioned for Connor to follow. Hank grumbled about having to investigate a strange noise. Connor walked around the hall, analyzing everything. You squinted at a large pile of feathers near the apartment door.

"That's a lot of feathers. I wonder if the deviant has a pet bird or two."

Connor knocked on the door but received no answer. He looked to you and Hank, and you just shrugged in response. He knocked louder. Still no answer. He knocked one last time, announcing that they were with the Detroit Police Department. A loud crash sounded from the other side. Within seconds, Hank had his gun out and was standing in front of you. "You two, stay behind me." You pulled out your own weapon. Connor swept you behind himself.

"Connor, I can take care of myself ya know," you muttered.

"I can be replaced, and as you pointed out earlier, you only live once. Having someone injured could be detrimental to the investigation."

"Fine," you huffed. Hank kicked the door in. He led the way inside the apartment, making sure that no one was hiding around a corner before entering a room.

The three of you separated into different rooms. You walked into the living room. You frowned as pigeons flew all around the room upon your entrance. You made sure to watch your step, not wanting to get shit all over your shoes. A large drawing on one of the walls caught your eye. You made your way to it and traced its details with your finger. Connor came to stand beside you. He seemed more interested in an urban farm poster than the drawings. He peeled back the poster, discovering a hole in the wall that was hiding a journal. Connor pulled it out and flipped through the pages. You leaned over to look at it and furrowed your brows. "Do you have a program that can decode it?" Connor tucked the journal in a pocket inside his jacket.

"No, it's indecipherable." You hummed, turning to face the closet next to you. You swung open the doors and screeched. Hank and Connor swirled around to face you. You swung your arms wildly as a flock of pigeons flew out of the closet.

"Fucking rats with wings!" you hissed. Hank's laughter filled the air as you scowled at him. Even Connor seemed amused. "You would've screamed too if they were coming for you!" You turned to Connor. "If you don't wipe that smug smile off your face, I'm gonna shove a pigeon in your face." He tilted his head.

"How can I wipe away a facial expression?"

"You have so much to learn about slang," you sighed. The three of you continued to search around the small apartment. Hank would randomly make a smartass comment about the pigeons just to annoy you, and you would retaliate by flipping him off.

Without warning, someone fell from the ceiling and knocked Connor over. When the deviant ran out of the apartment, Hank shouted something about chasing it. Connor was the first to dash out of the door, and you attempted to keep up until they stared doing parkour type shit. You and Hank gaped at the two androids as they started jumping on to moving trains. The two of you somehow managed to find another way around and made it to the greenhouses. The deviant ran into Hank, and he fell over the ledge. Everything seemed to go in slow motion. Your heart skipped a beat as you lunged forward in attempt to help pull him back to safety. Connor was stuck between chasing after the deviant or helping you. "Connor, get your ass over here and help me!" You shouted, cutting through his analysis.

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY.

He clinched his jaw as he stepped forward. Connor reached over and helped you pull Hank back onto the roof. You sighed in relief. Hank got to his feet and ranted about how they would have caught it if it wasn't for him.

"Dad, don't say that. It'll be okay. We know what it looks like, and I'm sure we'll be able to track it down again. Right, Connor?" The android nodded.

"It wasn't your fault, Lieutenant. I should've been faster."

"Both of you need to quit being so hard on yourselves. We did good today." Hank nodded and started walking back through the greenhouses.

You gently grabbed Connor's arm to stop him. When he turned to face you, you wrapped your arms around him in an embrace. He stiffened, unsure of what to do. Connor's LED flashed yellow until it settled on blue as he returned the embrace. "I know your main goal is to complete your mission with capturing deviants, but I just.." You paused, sighing. "I just wanted to thank you for what you did back there." You pulled away from the embrace, but kept a hand on his arm so you could see the color in his eyes. "My dad's the only family I have left. I would go batshit crazy if something bad happened to him and there was something that could've been done to prevent it." Connor's eyes softened as he looked over your facial features. He went to move his hand but hesitated. He took a breath before reaching up to touch a strand of your (h/l), (h/c) hair.

"Of course, (y/n)."

Hank turned around and saw the two of you. At first he scowled, but then he saw how gentle Connor was with you. He hummed, deep in thought. Hank turned on his heel and continued walking.

~*~*~

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[greatshell-rider]

21. walking barefoot on sidewalk (sensory prompts)

Jerry knows this is a dream.

Not because anything feels wrong. There isn’t any fuzzy confusion or strange twisted logic or a slight uncanniness to the scene. It feels real. And that’s what tipped him off.

The prickly smooth cement under his bare feet.

The cool still air of evening, just minutes after sunset.

A dandelion growing in a crack in the tar-patched road beside him.

Yesteryear’s leaves layered over a grated drain in the gutter.

Down the street, streetlights blinking to wakefulness, haloing the sloped driveways that border lumpy squares of weeds in front of small crumpled homes.

A distant dog’s incessant barking.

The pale sliver of the moon hanging in a sky too light-polluted to unveil the stars burning in galaxies both near and far.

The hoodie he’s wearing, soft and faded and pilled. It smells like it. Home.

It’s a summer night and Jerry’s standing in the streets of his childhood, of his native ’scape—planet, he means. Earth, he means.

He’s on Earth.

And that is how he knows he’s dreaming. He hasn’t been on Earth in . . . a long time. He knows that much, even if he can’t calculate the exact number of years on Earth’s clock and calendar.

He sets off down the sidewalk, shoving his hands in the hoodie’s front pocket. His bare feet slap against the cement and he doesn’t bother trying to walk quietly. No windows of any of the houses are lit, and there’s no people outside—no one playing with dogs in their yards or working on cars or going out for a jog. Not anyone. It’s very quiet. No wind, just that dog’s far-off bark. The blinking light on the horizon could be a plane though, so maybe it’ll pass overhead and he’ll hear the roar of its engines.

Imagine that, he thinks. Hearing the roar of a flying machine, not dragons. And that was normal once.

He comes to a signpost but when he stops to look at it, he doesn’t recognize the street names. Not a big surprise, not knowing where he is, where these streets lead, why the houses have similar but different numbers. If this dream is structured around his own memories, as he suspects, then it makes sense that a picture so aching familiar feels so alien. He was very young when they were taken away.

He starts walking again but there’s a new urgency to his step. A quickness in his blood that makes him move faster, fleeing from lamppost to lamppost as the night grows darker and the shapes around him become more and more like a stranger. The scene blurs as he runs—whether from the dream’s coding malfunctioning or the tears in his eyes, he doesn’t know—and the ground falls away, the slap of his bare feet on the sidewalk disappearing, the scent of his hoodie fading, the sound of that stupid dog buzzing into nothingness as he just runs—

And runs into something.

A very solid something.

Jerry bounces off it and lands hard on his rear, skinning his elbow on the sidewalk. He grabs it with the opposite hand and begins to wail.

“Oh my!” the something says, and Jerry’s dimly aware of them going down on one knee in front of him. A large hand, palm up, is proffered to him. “May I see, kiddo?”

Jerry clutches his elbow to his chest and shakes his head fervidly. “It hurts!”

“Mmm, I bet you’re right. Let’s see if I have a . . .” The hand retreats and Jerry watches through blurry tears as it slips into the person’s jeans back pocket. it remerges with a folded brown leather wallet, from which they pull out a band-aid. “How about this? Do you think this will help make it feel better?”

Jerry hesitates, then gingerly nods.

The person removes the plastic wrapping and holds out their hand again. “Okay. Should we try it?”

Cautiously, Jerry holds out his arm. He reluctantly loosens his fingers so the person can see the red scratches on his skin. The person extends the band-aid, and, suddenly scared, Jerry jerks his arm back again. “What if it hurts!”

The band-aid draws back. Jerry peers up to see a pair of brown eyes regard him in gentle seriousness. “I promise that it won’t. I will be very careful and make sure it doesn’t, okay?”

Jerry doesn’t think he believes them, but . . . “Okay,” he whispers.

Moving slowly, the person again brings the band-aid in close. Jerry wants to look away but can’t; his free hand flies to his mouth and he bites at his nails as one sticky side of the band-aid touches his skin, then the middle part covers the blood—he gasps, but it doesn’t hurt—and finally the other sticky part is smoothed down by a careful finger.

“There!” the person says, leaning back. “All done!”

Jerry examines his elbow closely and is amazed to find that he can’t see the scratches at all.

“Does it still hurt?”

He frowns and nods. “A—a little less.” He sniffles, then rubs the tears and snot on his face with the back of his fist, trying to get it off. He only smears it around, though. At least Lani isn’t around to see.

“Well, we should make sure it doesn’t hurt at all, shouldn’t we? You know how we can do that?”

Jerry looks up, a little less uncertain now. “How?”

“We get you back to your family! Here, let’s get you stood up—” they lift Jerry up to his feet— “and can you tell me if you have a parent or sibling who can help?”

Jerry scuffs the ground with his foot, not meeting their eyes, but reluctantly nods.

“Do you know where they are?”

He looks uncertainly over his shoulder. “Um . . .” Suddenly Jerry realizes he has no idea where he is and starts to panic, tears welling up in his eyes again.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, it’s okay, buddy, we’ll figure it out, I promise. Uh.” They run a hand through their hair. “Hmm. What do I . . . Well. You were running from over there, right?” They point behind Jerry.

He hesitantly nods.

“Do you want to walk with me back over there? We’ll play a game and try to figure out which house is yours, okay?”

Jerry chews at a fingernail. “Okay.”

The person stands up—they are very, very tall—and offers their hand to him. He slips his much smaller one into theirs and they walk side by side back down the sidewalk, the person pointing out different houses as they pass and asking what looks familiar.

A door painted yellow?

Flowerpots lined up on the porch railing?

Pink curtains in the window?

An abandoned hose snaking through dead grass?

Hopscotch chalk scrawled across the driveway?

A bush with purple-red leaves?

The chainlink fence with a broken gate?

Do you remember? Is any of this familiar? Why can’t you remember your own home, Jerry? Shouldn’t you know it better than anything? If you want to return here so badly, why can’t you even recognize it? How can you expect to call somewhere a home if you don’t know it? Why go back? Why go back? No one you love remains on Earth, why do want to ret—

Jerry wakes up.

He’s swinging in his hammock, deep within the belly of the mechbeast, staring up at dull grease-stained bronze. The hilt of his sword digs uncomfortably into his side, so he shifts, pulling the sheathed blade out from under him and laying it across his stomach, fingers tapping on the battered leather.

How much of that dream was from real memories, he wonders, and how much of it was simply a nightmare? He doesn’t remember running from home and hurting his elbow, or a tall kind stranger, but that isn’t to say much. He can’t remember . . . most things about Earth. It’s been . . . Yeah, it’s been a long while.

Jerry folds one arm behind his head, tapping fingers against his neck. “Just little kids,” he mumbles, to no one. It’s just him in this big hollow contraption. Him and the glues.

Speaking of. Jerry reaches out to the side and digs his fingers into the metal wall, finding a tiny hatch and pulling on it until a square of the bronze slides to the side, creating a tiny porthole in the side of the mechbeast. In pours a dim beam of sunlight. When Jerry squints he can see that no, the landscape has not changed, just the same empty flat plains, dusty and desolate. The setting sun lights the horizon aglow in rich purples and glimmering silvers, making Jerry’s eyes water when he stares at it too long. The glues will be coming for him soon, but until then—

Leaving the outlet open in case a cool breeze happens to blow in, Jerry rolls over, holding his sword so it doesn’t fall out the hammock, and buries his face into his arm. Until they come, he’ll try to get a little more sleep.

[josjournal]

Full Moon Ficlet #373 - Offend

Written for @fullmoonficlet​ prompt #373 Offend

Derek stood in the middle of the room staring at the empty space on the couch Stiles had been occupying until five minutes earlier when Derek, in his full moon-aggravated, memory-fueled pissy mood, had opened his mouth and inserted his foot. In the time since Stiles had slowly risen from where he’d been sprawled, mouth shut and face completely blank as he walked slowly out the door without looking at anyone, the rest of the pack had made their excuses and disappeared as well.

Now, Derek was alone. He broke his gaze from the couch and looked around the loft, the space he’d first gotten because he didn’t want anyone to feel comfortable enough to stay and hang out. He’d wanted it as a place to be alone because it was what he thought he deserved. Over time, comfortable leather furniture had taken up residence in the open area, surrounding a television with all the latest gaming systems and video equipment. He had accounts for Netflix, Hulu, Disney+ and a dozen other streaming services.

The kitchen was stocked with food and there was always wolfsbane-laced alcohol on hand as well and there was even an area used for planning set aside in one corner, cut off from the rest of the space by a screen that had been picked up at an estate sale and painstakingly restored.

Behind every single one of these changes was the man that he’d managed to offend with one slip of the tongue. One simple snide comment that coming from anyone else would have been laughed off but coming from Derek had cut through to his heart and soured his normally sweet cinnamon petrichor smell with the acrid smell of burnt popcorn. 

He was an asshole.

Grabbing his leather jacket, he slipped into it and left the building. He ran down the stairs and saw Stiles’ Jeep still in the parking lot next to the Camaro, but the other Pack members’ cars were gone. Scenting the air, he turned to follow Stiles’ down the street. He was half a block away when he figured out where Stiles was going and dropped his nose and walked on instinct.

The gates of the cemetery were intimidating in the darkness of night, but he saw the break in the bushes someone had cut a hole in the chainlink fence and he scooted through, Stiles’ scent strong and a piece of his plaid shirt caught on the branches. Derek smiled fondly and plucked the fabric from the branches and shoved it into the pocket of his jeans.

Stepping through, he could pick up the sound of Stiles’ voice. Derek’s lips twisted as he listened in on a private conversation with his mom. “I don’t know what I did,” he said, voice pained and Derek’s heart twisted in his chest as he continued down the path towards the back of the cemetery. 

“I’m giving up,” Stiles continued. “I just wanted to be his friend, push down the crush I’ve had since that first day in the preserve and be his friend. Make his loft a home for him and the Pack. Help him be the Alpha I know he can be, but he thinks I’m pathetic.” He sniffled and Derek scented salt in the air and he hated knowing he’d made Stiles cry.

He hesitated to approach, feeling completely unwelcome by Stiles for the first time in a long time; even when he was younger and he used to sneak into Stiles’ room and the boy would flail and fuss, he’d never felt this way. He must have hesitated too long or made a noise he wasn’t aware of because Stiles’ shoulders tensed and he raised his voice slightly.

“Gonna tell me how pathetic I am again? Is it too much for your werewolf sensibilities for the weak and puny human to cry to his dead mother?” His voice was so cold that Derek had a flashback to the Nogitsune and if it weren’t for the obvious pain and tears in Stiles’ eyes he would believe he’d been possessed again. 

“No,” he responded, voice quiet enough that it cut off whatever else Stiles was going to throw at him. “I’m here to apologize.”

Stiles smirked and there was a spark of the sarcastic little shit that had wormed his way into the pack, into the role of emissary, into his previous cold and dead heart. Derek fought the grin that twitched his lips. “You actually know what that word means?”

His grin broke through and Stiles looked taken aback. “Surprisingly, I am well-educated for someone raised by wolves.” They shared a laugh, but Stiles’ was still too hollow. “I also know what ‘offended’ means and I know I did that to you and I’m sorry.” He made sure to keep his voice steady and his eyes locked with Stiles, affirming his sincerity in the seldomly said words. 

“Why?” Stiles asked and Derek opened his mouth. “Not ‘why are you sorry?’. Why did you say it?”

“Because I’m an asshole?” Derek attempted and took pride in the snort Stiles gave him, but knew it wasn’t enough. “I think because I foolishly thought you were the one person I could lash out at that wouldn’t leave.”

Stiles raised his eyebrows. “That...that’s awfully self-reflective,” he said, smiling.

Derek ducked his head finally. “I’ve been seeing someone.”

“And you thought I didn’t know?” Stiles asked, starting to walk and bumping Derek’s shoulder as he passed him to head back to the opening in the fence.

He should be surprised but he wasn’t. Stiles may not have the senses of a wolf, but he had the skills of a detective. He fell into step next to him and gave him a small smile that was returned.

“I’ll accept your apology if you feed me when we get back to the loft,” Stiles said, fingers brushing against Derek’s with intent.

“Deal,” Derek returned, lacing their fingers together, smile still firmly in place.

Cross-posted to AO3.