#weapon rental

[thmadethis]

I finished my next big piece! This is a revamped version of a piece I did a number of years ago for the grand opening of Ravio's shop for heroes! I included some detail shots including a cameo by our favorite little hero in the green tunic.

I really wanted to make this poster look old and like it's been around the block a couple times. Something that a shop owner would put up on a wall in Kakariko Village. This was also my first deep dive into some real digital painting using watercolor and sponge brushes.

I'll probably be making some prints of this in the coming weeks. Stay tuned!

🌟This is what I do! ☝🏼 Wanna work together? DM or message me through my site!

[mariocki]

The Texas Chain Saw Massacre (1974)

"Things happen here about... they don't tell about. I see things. You see, they say it's just an old man talking. You laugh at an old man. There's them that laughs and knows better."

[wraithlafitte]

even it up

pairing: dean winchester x f!reader

CONTENT: violence (hunting), graphic descriptions of injuries and repairing them, SMUT, unprotected piv, dean might have a pain kink (or a competency kink), praise (m!receiving), blowjob, riding, (reckless) choking, edging (m!receiving), begging, biting, overstimulation

word count: 4.7k

a/n: part 2 to bitchin'. sorry it took so long! i got busy with schoolwork, but the semester's almost up so we'll be back to our regularly scheduled programming soon. thanks for your patience!

Silence filled the rental car as you and Dean drove to the location you'd tracked the missing vampires to. You had woken up tangled together, naked, dried bodily fluids a stark reminder of how far you'd fallen. You hadn't said a word to him all morning, and even Dean was devoid of his usual quips. At least you seemed to agree: last night was a mistake, and shouldn't happen again.

You parked the car in an unmarked, cracked parking lot a few blocks away from the abandoned house. Dean was out the door before you pulled the key from the ignition, rushing to the trunk to grab his weapons. You sighed and went after him, slamming the door behind you.

You stopped to the side of the trunk. "Dean."

"What," came his gruff reply from under the trunk lid. The sparse weeds growing through the pavement were suddenly very interesting.

"We should talk-"

Dean slammed the lid of the trunk, causing you to jump, and tossed you a machete, which you caught easily despite being startled.

"Let's just get the job done," he said, his face hard and unyielding as he made eye contact with you.

You looked away quickly, avoiding his stony gaze. "Fine," you mumbled. Those weeds sure were growing. Kind of how Dean had started to grow on you... persistent, despite the unforgiving terrain.

Shaking your head, you fell into step behind Dean as he started walking down the uneven sidewalk.

Your hands were deft as you picked the lock of the back door to the old, peeling green house. All the windows were boarded up, so you had no idea what was waiting for you directly behind this door, but if there was one thing you could count on, it's that if something did charge you, Dean would chop its head off. Not necessarily because he wanted to save you, but because he liked killing monsters. And you had a feeling that he had some anger he might want to take out on something deserving.

The lock finally clicked and you pushed the door open cautiously. It opened into a dirty mudroom, scattered with shoes and coats of all sizes and styles. Your stomach turned as you realized they must have belonged to victims.

Dean noticed it too. "Let's go," he said grimly and pushed past you into the building, machete held high.

You picked up your own machete from the ground where you had set it to pick the lock and followed Dean. He was quick, peeking past corners before whipping around and advancing down the hallways, pressed flat against the wall. You were less... dramatic about your caution, choosing to let him clear the way.

Dean stopped suddenly and threw an arm back, stopping you in place. For a second, you were distracted by the way his hand pressed back against you, fingers almost curling around your shirt, touching but not quite. A breeze through a broken window sent a wave of his Old Spice scent in your direction that almost overtook you. Then you came to your senses and slapped his hand away.

You peered past him to see what it was. You had come across a bedroom, in which three vampires were snoring away unwittingly. You recognized them from the warehouse.

Dean looked back at you and nodded, creeping into the room. You each went to a side of the bed and made eye contact over the sleeping monsters in front of you.

One, Dean mouthed, raising his blade.

Two, and you followed suit.

Three, and both of you swung. The blood of two vampires splattered the white sheets, and the third leapt up immediately, fangs descending. She stood on the bed, ready to pounce on Dean, when you pulled her legs out from under her. The vamp fell to the mattress, where you unceremoniously chopped off its head.

"Nice move," Dean muttered, wiping his blade and already walking towards the door. "Let's clear the rest of the house."

You checked the remaining rooms on the ground floor, while Dean hurried upstairs. You found nothing in the dilapidated rooms except some mice and rotting wood floors.

A loud pounding and scuffling sounded on the ceiling above you, accompanied by the unmistakable sound of metal hitting the floor. You turned and ran up the stairs two at a time.

Dean was locked in hand-to-hand combat with a vamp on the landing, his machete lying some distance away. Blood trickled down his temple. The ornate bronze candlestick the vampire wielded had a matching red stain.

The vampire hooked his beefy arm around Dean's neck and slammed him face first into the wall, shattering the glass on a picture frame that hung there. You seized the opportunity of having his back to you and rushed up behind him, hacking at his neck. Only his neck was so thick and muscular that your blade barely went through a third of it.

The vamp dropped Dean on the ground and slowly turned on you, your machete still stuck in its neck. Your eyes darted to where Dean's machete had fallen, and you scrambled backwards to pick it up, almost tripping on a rug in the process, but successfully retrieving it anyway. You brandished in front of you as you got backed into a corner, your last line of defense.

It had the audacity to laugh at you. "You think that's gonna work?" he taunted, bearing down on you and shadowing you from the meager sunlight coming through a window in an adjacent room.

In your periphery, you saw Dean rising from the ground, eyes fixed on the weapon stuck in the vampire's neck. You suppressed the urge to glance at him fully as he crept up behind the monster. He took hold of the machete handle and yanked.

It was no good. The vamp whirled on him, socking him in the jaw. You saw your chance. Dean was down for the count and the vampire had its back turned again. You ran up and swung with all your might in the opposite direction. The vamp's head rolled.

Dean looked up at you from the ground where he had fallen, panting hard. “You’re welcome,” he breathed heavily.

“For what? I saved your ass,” you reminded him, holding out a hand to help him up.

“If I hadn’t distracted it, you wouldn’t have been able to get it,” he said while standing, obviously trying to repair his ego.

You rolled your eyes and dropped his hand roughly. “Oh please.” You started down the stairs to head back to the car.

“At least we got them all now,” Dean commented, stomping down the stairs behind you.

You ignored him all the way back to the car and all the way back to the hotel as he continued to try to convince you that you hadn’t done all the work.

The sun was setting by the time you got back to the hotel, all shades of red and orange that reminded you of the blood you had spilled today. It reflected off the Impala, parked in front of the side door of the hotel. And it bathed Dean in a warm golden light that bounced off his freckled skin and made him look like he was glowing.

Ew, what am I thinking, you scolded yourself. He's just sweaty. He's a gross, sweaty man who you hate and never want to be intimate with again. He doesn't look sexy at all right now.

You were brought back to earth as Dean winced heavily while hauling his bag out of your trunk to transfer it to his car. His hand went to his ribs, tenderly feeling around for cracks.

"You should come inside so I can check you out," you said without thinking.

Dean looked at you incredulously. "Yeah, I bet you'd love to check me out, but I gotta go."

You rolled your eyes, feeling a blush creep up your neck. "Not what I meant. You're obviously hurt, let me take a look. I can patch you up better than you can yourself."

He threw his bag into the trunk of the Impala and slammed it shut. "Fine. If you'll let me leave after."

You prepared your first aid kit while Dean stripped off his top layers. You could have just gotten what you needed as you went, but you were preparing yourself for seeing him shirtless again... in the same environment that you'd fucked in last night.

You turned around, heart rate picking up. You were just making yourself nervous more than anything. You'd seen him shirtless thousands of times before. It's fine, it's normal.

And there he was.

Half-naked.

Sweaty.

Groaning.

Dean sat down gingerly on the edge of the bed, trying to look down his side, where deep red bruises were already formed. They were accompanied by a gash on his chest, presumably where the vampire's claws had cut into his skin as it tossed him around.

You kneeled in front of him and began examining his ribs, making sure to be gentle as you ran your fingers over each bone. Goosebumps rose on his flesh in the path of your hands. "Well, good news, nothing's broken."

Dean gave a pained sort of grimace-smile. "Great. So I can leave." He made to get up off the bed, but you held down his thighs.

"Not so fast," you said. "Let me fix up that cut."

"It's fine, really, I can do it myself," he protested. He met your determined gaze and slumped back.

"Fine. Make it quick."

You poured some antiseptic on a gauze pad. "This is gonna sting."

"I know, sweetheart, this ain't my first rodeo," Dean griped.

You gave him an expressionless look like I-am-so-done-with-you and pressed the soaked gauze to the cut. Dean hissed through his teeth, fingers tightening into the blanket beneath him. You wiped away the blood and the grime, revealing how deep the cut was.

"I'm gonna have to close this up," you told him. "It's deeper than I thought." You begin rummaging through the first-aid kit for the suture needle you knew was around somewhere. A hunter's first-aid kit was a little more elaborate than most.

You carefully threaded the needle, tongue poking through your lips, then looked up at him. "Ready?"

Dean's expression hardened and he grabbed the t-shirt he had been wearing, wadded up one end, and shoved it in his mouth.

Your brow furrowed in concentration as you wove the needle through his delicate skin, meticulously joining the two sides. You worked as quickly and as steadily as you could, painstakingly making sure to sew him up in a way that wouldn't scar too much. Dean did his best to keep quiet, occasionally grunting in pain, his face scrunching up around the shirt in his mouth.

You reached the end of the cut and adeptly tied off the thread, snipping the loose end off. Dean spat the chunk of t-shirt out of his mouth and tossed it to the side.

You made eye contact for a moment as you covered the wound site with a bandage, then Dean shifted his eyes to the side. "Thanks," he said after a minute.

"You sure you want to go? Why don't you rest one more night before getting on the road?" you asked softly, placing your hand on his knee soothingly. His leg twitched under your hand.

"I should go...." Dean protested half-heartedly, not making any move to get up. Did he want to stay?

"Got somewhere to be, Winchester?" you teased. Testing your theory, you rubbed his thigh a couple times. His eyes fluttered half-closed and he looked at you darkly through his lashes.

"Don't," he murmured, uncharacteristically non-combative. His hand crept around your wrist, holding your hand on his leg.

You looked up at him from your place between his legs. "You say one thing, but do another," you said softly. "What do you want, Dean?"

Dean bit his lip and let go of your hand, clasping his together in his lap and dropping his gaze to them. You waited a beat, then grabbed his hands, pulling them to your chest.

"Look at me, Dean," you commanded. His eyes flew up in surprise. "Tell me what you want."

His expression changed from surprised to irritated to aroused. He grabbed you by the shoulders.

"You."

You grinned and stood up to clamber onto him, leaning down to capture his lips in a kiss, Dean's hands ghosting across your back and legs, helping you into his lap. You wrapped your arms around his neck, holding him as close as possible as you made out and rolled your hips down onto his hardening cock.

Dean groaned and broke away. "Let me fuck you," he rasped, pupils blown.

A lovely mischievous idea occurred to you. You pouted. "You'll hurt yourself. Let me take care of you." You slid off his lap onto the floor and turned away, pulling your own shirt over your head. "Get comfortable on the bed."

In the fake gold plated mirror on the wall, you saw Dean look you up and down hungrily. Then he quickly stripped the rest of his clothes off and sat against the headboard. You slowly lowered your jeans, then your panties, being as teasing as possible, knowing he was watching.

"Come here," he barked finally. You turned to face him, bra still covering your breasts.

"So demanding," you breathed, but went to him anyway. You sat down on his thighs and looped your arms around his neck again, pulling him in for a kiss, which he swerved in favor of mouthing kisses into your neck and jaw. You moaned a little as he paid attention to a sensitive vein. Your hips almost involuntarily rolled forward, meeting his lower stomach.

His hands, which had just been resting on your thighs, squeezed harshly into the supple flesh of your hips. You yelped as he dug his fingers into the bruises he had left the day before.

"You said you would take care of me," Dean said snarkily, staring pointedly at his cock between you. You smirked and wrapped your hand around its base, admiring the reddening tip. You slowly squeezed your hand up from the base to the tip, and were rewarded with a thick drop of precum leaking out and dripping down the side. Dean huffed, a dark flush spreading across his neck and chest.

You scooted down his legs until your face was level with his crotch. Making teasing eye contact with him, you slowly stuck out your tongue and licked his cock from his balls up, flicking off the tip. Dean growled, his skin and gaze fiery.

"Quit'cher teasing," he slurred, tilting his head back to knock against the headboard.

You found significant pleasure in weakening him, and although you'd have liked to keep teasing him, you wanted to make him come undone. So you took his cock into your mouth, sucking gently on the fat head, savoring the salty taste of him.

"Fuck," Dean whispered, head still back, eyes closed. You swirled your tongue around a few times, then started lowering your head, taking him further and further into your mouth. He reached for your head but you caught his hand and held it down to the bed.

You raised your head, letting his cock fall from your mouth, a string of drool still connecting the two. "Trust me," you said, raising your eyebrow.

"I don't trust you as far as I can throw you," he groaned.

"Don't make me tie you down," you warned. "I will."

"I'd like to see you try- ngh!" You squeezed the base of his cock tightly and watched as it turned red and Dean squirmed beneath you, mouth agape and panting. He truly was a beautiful, lewd sight.

"Mind your stitches," you reminded him gently. "Lie still." You loosened your hold on his cock and began sliding your hand along it languidly.

Dean visibly relaxed, eyes fluttering open. You lowered your mouth back onto his cock, taking him all the way to the back of your throat and swallowing around him. Your eyes watered and stung, but the groan he let out was worth it. You repeated the process a couple more times, then pulled off and looked up at him. He regarded you darkly and lustfully as you grabbed his hand and brought it to the side of your face, allowing him to lace his fingers through your hair and grab a handful.

A handhold.

You nodded slightly and dropped your jaw, mouth waiting above his heavy cock. Dean's mouth slowly grew into a grin.

"Want me to fuck your face, huh? Guess that's one way you can help me out." He shoved your head down onto him. You gagged as his tip hit the back of your throat. "Fucking slut, letting a guy fuck your mouth just 'cuz you feel sorry for him." He began bobbing your head up and down. His grip on your hair made your scalp tingle.

You made a little moan of protest. It turned into the most obscene gurgling, gagging sound as he continued to use you like a human fleshlight.

You gripped his wrist and tugged his hand out of your hair so you could pull off of his cock. You looked at him through narrowed eyes. "I will stop."

"Yeah, right," Dean scoffed, out of breath. "You practically threw yourself on me."

You smirked, moving up to straddle him, and pinned his hand to the headboard. "I think you'll find that, both times, it was the other way around."

Before Dean knew what was happening, you ambushed him with a handcuff snapping around his wrist, the other side looped haphazardly on the bedpost. It didn't matter that it wasn't secure. He didn't have enough leverage to lift it over the tall post and free himself.

While he snarled, distracted, you trapped his other wrist in the same way. You smiled down at him sweetly when his angry face turned to you.

"I did warn you," you said, grinding down on his lap. "But I guess I should've known better than to give you any control. It was always going to come to this, wasn't it?"

"You bitch," Dean said through gritted teeth, straining forward against his restraints.

You leaned forward and pressed your lips to his neck, his jaw, his earlobe. "Just say the word if it's too much."

You felt him relax underneath you, then he nipped at your ear. "How weak do you think I am? Do your worst," he sneered.

You rose above him, triumphant. "Oh, I will, baby." You ground your wet core against his cock, still slick with your spit. He ground his teeth more, trying not to react. You threaded your fingers through his hair and tugged gently.

And oh, how beautiful it was that he let his head loll back, giving himself into your control, eyes fluttering shut. Then he seemed to snap to his senses and he opened his eyes, muttering, "Just ride me already."

"Patience," you whispered, and began kissing him. You kissed down his neck, across his chest (avoiding the stitches), down his stomach through the soft hairs that led back down to his pretty cock, laying on his stomach and leaving droplets of precum like dew in the hairs.

You blew softly across his length as you considered the best way to make him unravel for you. He let out a low groan, quiet and strained. You smiled to yourself and lowered your mouth back onto his cock, running your tongue lightly along the thick vein that ran up its underside, tracing the life-force that pulsated beneath his skin. He huffed softly in quick succession.

"Breathe," you murmured against his dick, and licked the tip gently, slo-o-owly. Dean made a pretty noise that was halfway a grunt and halfway a breathy sigh, and your pussy fluttered between your legs.

You clambered back up his body, your knees framing his waist as you hovered over him. His eyes were completely clouded by lust, an eager expression taking over his face. You took hold of his cock and lined it up with your body. His breath hitched in anticipation.

You cocked your head, smiling. "What do you say?"

Dean scowled. "Fuck you, I'm not begging."

"Oh, but you already have, Dean." You stroke his cock gently where it waits between your legs. "What's one more word?"

His eyes threatened to close against his will. He gritted his teeth, opened his mouth, closed it, sighed, and spoke. "Please," he whispered.

"Good boy," you praised, sinking down onto his cock slowly. You moaned loudly as you felt him fill you up again. It almost felt better now that you were taking your time with him. Dean moaned softly, arms finally relaxing in his bonds.

Your head dipped down and you kissed him. His mouth was soft and pliant against yours, not fighting, not working to dominate, and you had the fleeting thought that you had tamed him. You didn't know how, but in this moment, he was completely submissive. And you liked it.

You raised yourself up and drew off his cock until just the head remained inside, then slid back down slowly, like you had at first. Dean leaned forward, held back somewhat by the cuffs, to suck and press kisses to your breasts. You ground down on him, pressing his cock as far in as it would go until it ached, and your chest vibrated with Dean's responding groan.

"Please move," he begged hoarsely, hips twitching underneath you.

"Since you asked nicely," you breathed. You began rolling your hips against his steadily, watching as his pleasure flickered through his rugged features. It was a stark contrast to last night, when he had been scowling and making quips the entire time as he fucked you into the mattress. This was almost... loving. Or perhaps you were simply providing him a service. You did agree to take care of him, and maybe that's what he needed.

You reached up and unclasped the handcuff on Dean's left hand, somehow trusting that he would not go anywhere. His eyes flew open and his hand was on you like it was a magnet and your hip was the opposite charge. His hand massaged into the flesh of your hip, making a dull ache arise from the bruises of the previous night.

You looked into his eyes as both your moans filled the air. They were wide and asking, and since his hand was gentle on your body, and he had been on such good behavior, you released his other hand as well.

It was like a switch flipped. His right hand darted to your waist and dug in, the hand on your hip tightening as well as he took control of your movement. You yelped and he began pushing you faster, your thighs screaming with effort as you tried to regain control.

"Dean," you gasped, clawing at his shoulders.

He grinned, slamming your hips down on him until you were forced to fall against his shoulder. "You were too slow," he gasped between heavy breaths, the wind rushing from his lungs each time your hips met his.

You managed to push yourself back up, bracing your forearm against his throat. His gasps turned ragged as you cut off his air. His thrusts slowed as you regained control of him.

"Be good," you said harshly, catching your breath and narrowing your gaze. "Only good boys get what they want." Dean scowled as he realized you were parroting his words from the night before.

"Fuck you," he spat hoarsely, voice barely audible from the pressure on his vocal cords. You cocked an eyebrow and leaned a little heavier on his throat. His cock twitched inside you.

Letting up on his throat just enough that he could breathe, you picked yourself up and began fucking yourself on his cock again, this time fully in control as his hands just clutched at your hips. You swear he went bug-eyed at the renewed friction combined with his light-headedness.

You felt pressure build in your core as you watched Dean's face, red and straining, mouth hanging open as he gasped in a desperate bid for a full breath. All that came from his mouth were raspy moans and heaves. He seemed determined not to beg still. You supposed he had been faking before. That wouldn't do.

"Tell me when you're close, baby," you purred in his ear as you began rubbing your clit, the sensation causing you to clench around him tightly. You readjusted the arm on his throat so he could speak.

"I'm close," you continued. "If I come on your cock, can you take it? Or will it be too much?" You pouted in mock pity. Dean was barely listening, eyes rolled back in his head, mouth moving in something that might have been words, if he wasn't so pussy-drunk and oxygen-deprived.

The look on his face finally pushed you over the edge, and you fell on his mouth hungrily as your pussy spasmed around him, eating up his desperate whines and moans as they fell from his lips.

You didn't stop your pace, overstimulating yourself and building another orgasm while Dean... finally broke.

"Please," he gasped hoarsely into your mouth, teeth clashing against yours as he jerked forward, drawn towards you, needing to be closer and closer and closer. "I'm so close."

You smirked down at him and slowed drastically. He was going to feel everything you were subjected to last night. He whined and buried his face in your chest, hips wiggling in an attempt to thrust into you again. "What do you say?"

"I just did," he growled, scraping his teeth over your skin.

"You didn't," you said cheerily. "You know what you need to tell me."

He let out a drawn-out groan followed by what could be considered somewhat of a sob. "Fuck."

"That's not it," you chastised.

Dean gritted his teeth and looked up at you, meeting your gaze. But he couldn't hold it. "I need to come," he whispered, eyes dropping. "Please make me come."

You resumed your last pace, touching yourself and clenching down on him as your body reacted to the feelings. Dean let out a broken moan as you leaned on his throat again. "Fuck- fuck-" he gasped against your skin, more his mouth just forming the words than speaking, hot and wet and open. His entire body tensed and he stopped breathing for just a moment-

And then he came inside you, shuddering and digging his nails into your hips so tightly you thought you might bleed. You didn't slow until you were following him, wringing every drop from his spent cock as he begged you to slow down in half-human sounds. You didn't slow until you were overstimulating yourself too, and he was straining against your arm, all but crying as his face contorted, all gritted teeth and tense muscles and red cheeks.

At last, you seated yourself fully on him and just stayed there, finally un-obstructing his airway. Dean's hands fell limply to your sides as his chest heaved, panting heavily and looking at you with a glazed expression as his cock jerked weakly inside you.

You made a quick scan of his injuries. Nothing had burst or ripped. He was catching his breath. Satisfied that he was physically okay, you smirked down at him.

"Now we're even," you told him slyly, dragging yourself off of him and laying down beside him.

"Fuck you," he croaked.

You smiled and nipped at his jaw. "Think you better just stay the night, wouldn't want you to drive like this."

Dean hesitated, then decided to take the bait. "Like what?"

"All weak and worn out," you said sympathetically. "Driving tired from a good fucking is the same as driving drunk, you know."

He let out a sharp chuckle. "I don't think that's how the saying goes."

"Really?" you asked sweetly, propping yourself on one elbow to look at him. "Could've sworn it was something like that...." You pretended to think.

"I'll stay," Dean sighed, snaking his arm around you and pulling you into his side. "If you promise we can do this again before checkout."

"I don't know," you said. "We might sleep too long. We might have to take it out to the car."

Dean shivered at the thought of fucking you in his Impala. "I guess that wouldn't be so bad."

[redcoralpot]

Stu!! I love seeing ppl love him. Would I be able to request some roleswap ish au, where reader is a slasher, and stu is the "final girl". He gets caught ofc, and reader unmasks, smut ensues (maybe stu had a crush or smth, maybe dubcon if u accept it).

Unrelated: Loved seeing Matthew lillard as william Afton, he did so good.

Ruined Man - Stu Macher X M!Reader

Summary: Stu Macher was a classic rich boy; arrogant, eccentric, and an asshole. He was known for playing cruel pranks on others, and earlier in the weak, he pranked Sidney by scaring her as the infamous Ghostface Killer. Maybe, just maybe, he deserved a taste of his own medicine. Trick or treat, right?

Warnings: NSFW, non-fatal violence, weapons.

Word Count: 2K

A/N: I don't write anything with SA, CNC, or dub-con; Stu plainly consents to the activities described. He has implied feelings for the Reader, and other implied activities as well... but I'll let you discover that part.

-

-

Crickets chirped in the grass, the crescent moon high in the sky. Finally, the noise from the Macher’s Halloween party had died down, and most people had left already, causing a blanket of peace to float down on the street. Any stragglers were drunkenly slumped against the curb, blacked out or calling for a sober ride. Your mask stuck out from the shadows, exaggerated and white, as you watched the property slowly become empty. Well, empty except for the host, of course. Stu Macher.

You could see him through one of the many windows, lounging on the first floor’s living room couch, still moving. Your fingers fumbled against the phone’s dial– god, how do killers run in this shit– pulling the black fabric further up your arm to position the voice changer closer to your mouth. Now, you patiently waited for the other man to pick up, seeing him jolt out of his position. Stu rubbed his eyes, and stumbled to the kitchen.

“Yo?”

Your lips curled into a nasty sneer, “Do you like scary movies, Stu?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“What’s your favorite?”

“Don’t make me choose, you know I’ve watched too many good ones!”

…

Huh? There was no way he knew your identity already. You’ll give him credit, he’s smart, but most definitely not that smart. Stu always visits the rental store Randy works at, and he always rented horror movies with Sidney’s boyfriend, Billy Loomis; that much you knew. He could not have seen you through the window before he ran into the kitchen, and even if he managed to, your mask was still securely strapped on.

“You still there? I haven’t dropped off Hellraiser yet, you could've just asked if you wanna watch it again.”

You hung up, breath quickening. Stu wasn’t scared, even though you were using the same voice changer as the loose, prank-calling murderer running around the streets of Woodsboro. You dumped the phone on the ground, hidden behind a bush. If he wasn’t scared by a little sound-a-like, that was fine, you came prepared. Stu’s garage door had been left open, and you jogged over. Frankly, it didn’t matter how much the rich boy had it coming, you were never doing this again. The costume’s long fringes caught on your feet, almost causing you to trip as you avoided the windows; less silent than you had hoped. Your shoes shuffled against the concrete, and you jiggled the handle of the only door, praying it would open. It creaked as you slipped inside, your shoes surely creasing when you tiptoed into the living room. From behind the couch, you could see that Stu was still in his kitchen, but he was looking around.

He grinned, cupping his hands around his mouth, “Nobody else’s here, Billy. You don’t gotta sneak into my house, you know that!”

 Sighing, you watch him leave the room to wander about the hallways, stopping by the door you had snuck through– and forgot to close. He squinted, looking at the mistake, and back at the living room. Your cheeks burned, adrenaline starting to pump in your veins as he took a few steps closer. 

“C’mon, you wanna have a movie marathon? It’s kinda late for that, but whatever. I have plenty of snacks left from the party, and a whole lot more puke!”

Stu turned away at the last second, choosing instead to sprint down into the bathroom. You could hear a muffled, “Gotcha… nope,” over rustling cloth as you crawled on your hands and knees into the kitchen. The freezing tile shocked any distraction from your system, and you stood up, settling into the darkest part of the kitchen. One of your hands held a dull knife, while the other held the little voice changer machine. However, your position left you without visuals on your victim. You were tempted to pull down your hood, but that would be too reckless, especially since he seemed to think you were his dearest friend. Oh, man, he didn’t know what was coming. 

“Y’know I love pranks, man, but time’s up,” He probed, leaning on the marbled island, just out of reach.

Stu visibly flinched as he turned around and found you staring at him, the mask’s empty eyes giving nothing away. It took him but a second to recover, yet, and a smile accompanied his wild eyes, “Billy!”

You tilted your head, slowly raising your left hand, “Incorrect.”

He didn’t have time to respond; you lunged. You gripped his collar in a fist and slammed him into the countertop– he winced. Stu tried pushing you back, but it was in vain, your knife already threatening to pierce his throat.

Your full weight was on the man, and he raised his hands in defeat. Stu’s chest rose and fell in hefty patterns; you snickered at his obedience. His head slumped back as you released his shirt, in favor of wrenching your mask off to face him.

“Surprise, Macher.”

Stu chuckled, chewing on his bottom lip, “Didn’t know you were in on it too.”

“In on what– aren’t you scared?” You growled, pressing the knife into the flesh of his neck, but not enough to draw blood.

“Dunno,” his back arched, causing a drop of blood to drip down his shirt, “I think you could’ve done better!”

You flipped him over, slicing a fringe off of your costume to tie his hands with. Your hips were in between his thighs, leaving him trapped, and the robe itself fell on the floor beside its mask. Stu giggled, hoisting up his torso with his elbows.

“It’s payback; you could use some.”

He winced as you pulled his hair, “Hngh, it was Billy’s idea.”

“Don’t act innocent.”

“And what’re you gonna do about it, tough guy?”

You rasped, moving to step back, “Nothing you don’t want; I think the prank’s done enough.”

Stu seemed to freeze, albeit briefly, but he wrapped his ankles around your hips– preventing you from running. Your hands brushed against them, tense, as his shoulders shook.

“I wanna.” A smile laced his tone.

“You sure?”

“I’m pose-itive,” he joked, “get it?”

You wrenched his mouth open, pressing down on his tongue with your thumb, “Shut it.”

He nodded, trying his best to close his lips around your finger. Your other hand trailed down his side, taking its sweet time, before landing on his waist. Saliva still connected your fingers to his mouth as you removed them, all in favor of lifting his hips. Underneath, you unzipped his jeans, taking extra care to avoid giving any friction. When you stepped back to slide them off of Stu, he whined, his hips still chasing your touch. His jeans were thrown aside, and you slid back in your place. You knew he could feel your breath on his neck.

Your crotch ground against his ass, a shiver spreading across his spine. Stu was audibly panting; his head was hanging low and he pushed his hips to meet your thrusts. You hummed, choosing to drag the knife in soft strokes down his back, the cool metal only just piercing his skin. Red oozed in thick droplets out of the wounds, some getting big enough to trickle down his back. The pain seemed to follow it down, as Stu made quite the pathetic noise. 

“We’ve barely even gotten started, Macher, and you’re this desperate already?” You teased.

“Mm, show me what ‘cha got!”

You chuckle and suck a bruise onto the back of his neck. From that position, you could hear a groan rumble in his throat, but it wasn’t strong enough to escape. Hm, you could change that. You sunk the edge of your teeth into a different spot, holding on for a second before soothing the bite with your tongue. If the bruise didn’t make what happened obvious, well, this would. Stu would just have to deal with it. Though, you doubt he’d mind.

The knife clattered onto the marble counter after you dropped it, Stu’s thighs twitching, “Where’s the lube?”

Stu didn’t answer, but only whined.

“Use your words, pretty boy.”

His voice shook, trying to form words past used lips, “Bathroom.”

“Louder, I didn’t hear you the first time.”

Stu wiggled against your weight, “C’mon, man– f-fuck, it’s in the bathroom, please!”

You tutted, a cruel grin on your face, “Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You didn’t need directions, and as soon as you were out of his view, you practically ran there. Hell, you weren’t gonna miss out on this chance, were you? Stu, the eccentric boy that played downright evil pranks on anybody that breathed around him, reduced to a perverted degenerate. Perhaps he was already like that, and you wouldn’t be surprised. 

The lube was in a small, portable bottle that was half empty when you found it. Back in the kitchen, you poured the majority of what was left in your palm and fingers. Using just two, for the moment, you spread it over his hole; a finger may have dipped in every once and a while, in the process. 

“I wanna, I wanna do it already,” Stu shuddered, his fidgeting acting up again.

A finger eased its way inside, a little too easily, much to your surprise, “Not yet.”

“I really wanna.” Another, just as simply.

“That’s too bad;” you mused, “have you been fingering yourself?”

He bit down on his bottom lip, the taste of iron filling his mouth, “Uhuh, uhuh.”

“To what?”

“Y-you, and me.” 

You spread the final bit over your dick, before pressing your hand into the sides of his neck, “You little pervert. Bet you loved getting a glimpse of me in the locker room, yeah?”

“Yeah, yes, yes– oh, shit.” Stu’s little tangent was interrupted by you slamming inside; the sting melted in with pleasure as you brushed his prostate.

Only for a moment did you stop to let him adjust, before pulling out and thrusting again. You found a rhythm, and the counter rubbed against his cock as you continued, smearing precum over the wood. His hands, still bound, scrabbled for anything to hold onto, but in vain. His nails just slid off of the smooth stone, his drool making it even slippier. Stu squeezed his eyes shut, feeling a knot grow in his gut. 

He clenched around you, causing you to grunt, “‘M gonna cum, please let me cum, please, please… ah!”

“We’re not done yet,” you hissed, firmly slapping his thigh.

“I can’t hold it, man, I really can’t,” he sobbed out, eyelashes wet from unreleased tears.

A sharp pain on his shoulder burned through any restraint the guy had, the knot unraveling as quickly as it had formed. Stu thrashed, the fringe snapping, and his vision whited out. His brain was all fuzzy; the only thing he could focus on was gripping the edge of the counter. Stu’s face was smushed against the counter, crimson mixing with the white surface. He shivered, eyes heavy, feeling a little floaty when a thick liquid dripped down his thighs. You pulled out of him, rubbing his waist as you did so.

“Good job, Macher. That was one hell of a show you put on, ” you sighed.

“Hhn.”

His body was limp as you turned him over, using the oven towel to start to clean him up, “How’re you feeling?”

Stu finally opened his eyes, using all of his strength to grin up at you, “Dude… that was like, awesome.”

“Pfft, you sound out of it.”

“Eh, what makes you say that? I want a big glass of water!”

You cackled, leaving his side to shuffle through a cabinet full of fancy cups, finally choosing a sturdy looking mug. He grabbed it as soon as it was in arms reach, taking huge gulps from it, like he had been starved. Or, more so dying of thirst. 

When he finished, you softly said, “Do you need help getting into bed?”

Stu shrugged, so you took that as a yes. You heaved him over your shoulder, supporting him up the stairs as he giggled the whole way. As you tucked him in, you swore you could hear something from down in the kitchen.

A phone’s ring.

-

Taglist: @jaspeywasy89 , @cannabrisano , @fandomz-brainrot

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[tarithenurse]

The roommate

Fandom: MCU. Pairing/starring: Bucky Barnes & fem!reader. Word count: 1059. Content: Angst, slight pining, weapons, [Y/N], unbetaed as usual. A/N: Got an idea. Got to writing. Thinking of maybe making a second chapter...we’ll see if it makes sense. Please reblog and comment – it’s fuel!

The roommate

Somehow, it had all gone wrong.

You had just wanted to be helpful and dump the laundry in his room for him so you could wash your own load.

No scratch that, that’s not where it started fucking up.

You hadn’t known he was home. If you had, you’d have knocked. If you’d had knocked, you would have waited with entering until he called out ‘yes’.

If you just had done all that, then you wouldn’t now be faced with a gun.

You still have his laundry in your arms as your mind does loops to figure out how this could all happen to you of all people.

“James?” you manage to eek out.

You like your roommate. Quiet and polite, it had taken a long time before you two became friendly enough to hang out for fun. Then you’d learned that he was good at a lot of things: puzzles and quizzes – he always did the Sunday’s difficult crossword in record time while you struggled with the easy one, he’d sorted the lock on the storage unit in the basement when you lost the key – thus revealing that he liked picking locks, what was most telling right now that there was more to the man was the fact that he had you at gunpoint and only looked mildly apologetic.

“I didn’t think you were home,” he says as if that explains everything. It doesn’t.

“Likewise,” you stammer, eyes fixed on the weapon.

Stepping back, he motions you to drop the laundry on the bed. “You shouldn’t have come in here.”

It’s the first time you’re in the room since you rented it out to him. Now you see how spartan he lives...and you see a desk covered in an arsenal of weapons and passports and stacks of money and...nothing makes sense.

“I’m not...I won’t...” you offer tamely, hoping he believes you.

He sighs. Then he lowers the gun, clicking on the safety.

“Sit.”

Of course you obey, plopping down next to the pile of t-shirts, socks, and boxer shorts that you had tried not to think of him in.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, a nagging voice tells you that him lying like this about his identity probably is a breach of the rental agreement so you can keep the deposit. Another voice is trying to draw your attention to the fact that he’s only wearing grey sweatpants – his perfect chest is bare and not even the scar by the stump of a shoulder is enough to make him ugly.

“I know you won’t tell anyone,” he finally says, “because no one would believe you.”

He’s right. No one would. A one armed man would not be a logical criminal...or whatever he is. You glance to the table again. Spy? Assassin?

Following your line of sight, James nods. “Yeah...I guess you’re wondering what that’s for.”

He steps over, places the gun down and picks up a passport that he tosses to you. Fumbling, you catch it and flip it open.

Well, at least he gave you the right first name...it’s the other two that makes it all make sense, though: James Buchanan Barnes.

While you study the picture, you’re vaguely aware that he slides open the closet and pulls something out. It’s only as the whirring sound breaks the silence that you look up and see the infamous prosthetic that turns him into everyone’s nightmare or hot dream: the Winter Soldier.

“I’ll be gone in 20 minutes,” he says flatly.

“Why?” you blurt out, surprising yourself just as much as him.

James narrows his eyes at you. “I figured you wouldn’t want me and my...gear around.”

“I...don’t think I mind...I mean...you’re one of the good guys, yeah?”

You’ve seen the news: Falcon is the new Captain America. The Winter Soldier is his menacing sidekick.

Maybe James haven’t watched the same shows as you though, because he cocks his head with a bemused smile. “I’m sure there are differing opinions on that.”

“I’m sure there are people who hate me too but that doesn’t mean I’m bad,” you counter, now more sure of yourself. “I don’t mind you staying...kinda makes me feel even safer than it already did.”

“Technically it shouldn’t.”

“You can actually protect me if there’s a burglar or something,” you point out.

He lifts a finger and opens his mouth before lowering the digit again. “Okay. True.”

“Good. Then you stay,” you decide.

You glance at the picture in the passport one more time, realizing a bit too late that he might have scoped out the entire place – including your room – to feel safe here. And if he’s been to your room, then he might have found the pictures on your vanity...one of which is a young Bucky Barnes in uniform and looking cocky.

“If you’ll excuse me,” you mumble, tossing the passport back as you get up.

He doesn’t stop you but he does follow as you shuffle out of his room and head down the hall to yours. You’re loath to open the door with him there, knowing that the vanity will be in view, but you have to get to that picture and hide it just in case he hasn’t seen it yet.

“[Y/N]...” his voice is low. Humming. “Do you know why I took your offer even if the rent isn’t the lowest in the area?”

You’ve stopped with the hand on the door handle. “No?” You don’t dare to turn.

“Major in history, minor in politics...your thesis was on the impact of the serum in the arms’ race,” he quietly explains, “but you never lost sight of the person embodying it.” Cool fingertips land on your shoulder. “I’ve done my research...and I’ve gone through every nook and cranny of this place more than once.”

You can feel the heat rise to your cheeks. “Every nook and...?”

“Every surface.” Gently turning you, he has to lift your face up with a finger under your chin. “I’m surprised you didn’t realize earlier.”

“You look different with the hair and beard and...yeah...”

You can hear how lame it sounds. Sure, you’d liked that there were some similarities but you’d never allowed yourself to entertain the idea that he might be the very same guy.

“Let’s get takeout and find a bottle of wine or two and talk,” James, Bucky, offers.

“Sounds good.”

[kleefkruid]

@cea-tide Yeah we have the largest amount of cocaine and some other stuff of Europe running through our port so criminals from all over hang out here and they don't get along of course

It's all infighting so if you or your family aren't involved in it you don't really run any risk. They mainly attack each others buissinesses and residences with bombs made of fireworks explosives which is of course very noticable to the general public.

In my block personally there has been a shooting (rare bc of the lack of access to guns and also bc then you have evidence (the weapons) on you while the bomb you can just leave behind) and one of my neighbors got his door blown out by an explosive and that one I did hear, suprisingly distinct sound, I was lying in bed and immediately thought "oh that's a bomb for sure"

But it occurs so frequently that everyone has experienced at least one, whenever the news comes through I just look on the map to see who lives nearby and it really averages out. A while back there was one in my friends street and I texted him "hope your windows didn't get blown out by that bomb xoxo" and he texted back "what bomb how do you know this before me" bc he somehow slept through it lmao

But yeah it's just like, a regular part of life and the only risk to the average person is window damage as I mentioned and also your favorite pita place closing bc someone blew it up

Oh and rural folk who aren't caught up in the whole thing will ask you if you're afraid of your house being blow up and you have to be like Sandra I am not a highly positioned member in the cocaine trade we would not have come to this babtism in a shitty rental car if we were

[thescarletnargacuga]

BULLSEYE

A CANON TIME CAPSULE AU SHOWTIME ONESHOT

AU credit: @mangotangerinepastry @the-amazing-digital-time-capsule

Caine is blowing off some steam at the Capsule's shooting range. Pomni joins him, curious how he has such good marksmanship. Can he teach her?

WARNING: mention of PTSD

~~~

BANG!!

Caine pulled the bolt on the M1903 Springfield rifle, discharging a .30 bullet casing and readying the next shot. He focused down range through the scope.

BANG!!

He narrowed his eyes. Each shot was a memory. Another target. Another kill. Another enemy destroyed. He pulled the bolt, throwing another case.

BANG!!

The shots were tightly grouped in the center. This was a very dead soldier, but he had be sure. He pulled the bolt.

BANG!!

He readied the final shot the fastest, pulling the trigger less than a second after the firing chamber was closed.

BANG!!

Caine stood up straight and ejected the final casing. The target down range no longer had a center. Not a single shot went astray. He took a deep breath, putting away the foul wartime memories. A guest had really pissed him off today and he resorted to shooting the feelings away, despite the fact that the loud gunshots always took him back to the trenches.

Caine could feel someone's eyes on him. "Anyone ever tell you it's rude to stare?" He set the rifle down and turned to see Pomni peeking from behind a tent flap.

"Sorry. I just, um...heard the gunfire and I thought all the guests were gone for today so I wanted to see what all the noise was about." Pomni stepped out of her hiding spot. Her posture was sheepish, but she made eye contact with Caine.

"The guests are gone. Finally. I was using the range. It's one of the few things I get to do for fun around here." He almost looked away from Pomni. She was one of the few that would look directly at him. Most people couldn't stand the look of him. Too strange. Too unusual. So he found it mildly intimidating that she'd not only look at him, but even smile sometimes. It made his chest feel weird.

Pomni saw the downrange target. "Did you do that? That's incredible accuracy."

The compliment nearly went over his head. Of course he did that. He's the only one here. Wait a second- "Thank you." His voice cracked and he cleared his throat. "I've....had a lot of practice."

"I can only imagine, considering you've been here the longest. Have you tried the other weapons?" Pomni thumbed at the rental counter, where an NPC clerk stood lifelessly at the register.

"No, I prefer this model."

Pomni looked over the Springfield. "You made those shots with this? It doesn't look like it would shoot straight if you took it to church."

"This was top of the line!" Caine said indignantly.

Pomni smirked. "It makes your skill all the more impressive."

Caine's defensiveness deflated immediately. "I- um..." There she went, making his chest feel funny again. For once, he was at a loss for words and he was grateful Kinger wasn't here to witness it.

"Can you teach me?"

Caine blinked. "What?"

"Can you teach me? We have nothing but time and learning a new skill would be a great way to pass it."

Caine knew all about that. In his time in the capsule, he's learned everything from being ambidextrous to sewing to art to different languages. "Alright." He showed her a magazine of five .30-6 bullets. "Ammunition." He picked up the rifle with one hand and showed her how to load it. "Goes here." He opened the firing chamber. "When you pull back on the bolt, It releases the expended casing and loads the next bullet. Push forward and fully lock in place before firing."

Caine pressed a button and his target was charged out with a new one before handing Pomni the rifle. She took it with both hands, surprised by its weight. Caine stood close next to her and showed her how to properly hold that rifle. "Basic safety. Always keep the barrel facing down range or at the ground, even when unloaded. Never put your finger on the trigger until you're ready to fire."

"Okay." Pomni started to feel nervous. The gun was a real weapon and it was really loaded. She was almost afraid it would go off on its own unexpectedly. Caine's guiding hands on hers helped her nerves.

Caine was in full instructor mode. He tiled the barrel up to align the sites. "To aim, use the scope by lining up your dominant eye with the tip of the stock. Don't put your eye right up against the scope. That's a good way to blind yourself."

Now Pomni was actually nervous. Her rapid heartbeat made the gun tremble.

Caine placed a hand on Pomni's upper back. "Lean into the shot when you fire and keep a firm grip. The rifle will kick back some." He double checked the firing chamber. She was loaded and secured. "Fire when ready."

Pomni took a minute to get a feel for the sight and tried to line it up with the center of the target. Her finger grazed the trigger, half expecting it to go off immediately, but it actually took some effort to squeeze.

BANG!!

Pomni hadn't realized she had been holding her breath until she gasped. She lowered the rifle and squinted to see where she hit. There was a small hole in the top center of the target.

Caine's brow raised. "Not bad. You were dead on, just a little high. Want to try again?"

Pomni felt a little adrenaline rush and nodded excitedly. She brought the rifle back up to aim.

"You're forgetting something." Caine smirked.

Pomni furrowed for a second. "...oh!" She pulled open the bolt and the expended casing clattered to the ground. She pushed it back in and carefully locked the firing chamber closed.

"There you go. A few aiming tips: keep both eyes open, this will reduce eye strain." Caine reached around and tapped next to her closed eye, she opened it in response. "You did good holding your breath before firing, but don't hold it too long. The faster your heart beats, the harder it is to aim."

"Yeah, I noticed." Pomni laughed anxiously. "First time jitters."

BANG!!

The shot went wide right, hitting the edge of the target. Pomni lowered the rifle, disappointed.

"That's alright. None of us are Annie Oakley the first time." Caine consoled. "Rest your arms when you need to. Holding the rifle up like this for long periods of time will make your muscles shake if you're not used to it."

"Right." Pomni racked the next shot, doing it much smoother this time.

Caine watched her each time to make sure she was doing it correctly, but the determined tone in her voice with how quickly she set up the next shot was doing strange things to him. He mentally reprimanded himself for such thoughts and focused on Pomni's aim, his face right next to hers. "A little more to the left. Up a degree. There. Now, breathe in."

Pomni inhaled. She could feel her heart in her ears.

"Fire." Caine whispered.

BANG!!

A hole was in the bottom of the center. Pomni smiled brightly. "I did it!"

Caine found her excitement contagious, smiling with her. "You did it. Very well done."

Pomni set the rifle down. "I think that's enough for me for now, but thank you so much for this. I can see why you come here. It must be rather nice to imagine guest faces on those targets."

Caine chuckled. "It's a guilty pleasure. And between you and me." He leaned in and lowered his voice. "I imagine BUBLE too."

Pomni giggled. "Give him two between the eyes for me."

"Yes, ma'am." Caine picked up the rifle, racked the next shot and fired. Then racked and fired again in rapid succession. Both shots hit dead center.

Pomni's jaw dropped. "How- now you're just showing off." She crossed her arms.

The rifle's barrel smoked from use as Caine cleared the final casing. "Maybe." He said coyly.

~~~

A/N: I'm on a time capsule kick lol

[phillippadgettwrites]

The First Time, Every Time: Shapes

Rated X / 909 words / Posted on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

The rental car breaks down an hour outside Kalispell. There’s no cell service, no streetlights, and nothing to eat beyond half a bag of sunflower seeds. An hour passes, and then two, but not a single vehicle. The boarding time for their flight comes and goes, the sun disappears behind the mountains, and they both realize that they’ll be sleeping in the car tonight. 

-

Mulder stretches out in the passenger seat while Scully takes the back. Their breath fogs up the windows, and he can hear her teeth chattering in the sub-freezing nighttime temperature drop. Chivalry tells him to offer her his coat, maybe even his body heat, but her prickly demeanor makes him think twice. 

He’s still trying to figure her out. When to give her space and when to move closer. When to challenge her and when to back off. She herself seems to be embroiled in an internal push/pull between what she knows and what she sees. What she feels and what she believes. He senses that she’s still struggling to reconcile what they encountered in Browning, turning the square peg this way and that in hopes that it can somehow fit into the round hole of science and reason. He finds her frustrating, but also fascinating. The fact that she’s beautiful is something he does his best to ignore.

-

He wakes with a start to Scully vigorously shaking him by the shoulder, and his initial disorientation clears away when he hears the clack of the hammer on her pistol. She heard something outside the car, she’s sure of it. 

Mulder climbs into the back seat and they press their flashlights against the windows, trying to see outside. But the glass is too fogged up, and the night is too dark, and there’s no way in hell they’re going to open the doors. They sit, straining their ears, for countless minutes, their weapons resting at the ready on their respective knees. He feels Scully’s fingers bump against his leg, and he reaches over to grab her hand. 

-

Neither of them can sleep. It’s pitch dark both inside the car and out, the benign noises of night presenting themselves as constant threats. With their weapons stashed on the floorboards they huddle together for warmth, speaking in low tones about any and everything to drown out the snapping twigs and rustling leaves that are probably nothing, but could be something. 

In her overtired and cortisol infused delirium, Scully admits she worries that he finds her annoying. In his overtired and cortisol infused delirium, Mulder admits that not only does he not find her annoying, he finds her quite enjoyable. When she clucks her tongue at this, characteristically disbelieving, he proves his point by telling her that had they met another way, through mutual friends or a chance encounter at a bar, he probably would have asked her out. The stretch of silence that follows makes his stomach turn.

-

He hasn’t fucked in a car since he was seventeen. His body feels so much bigger, the seat backs so much more restrictive than he remembers, but the excitement is exactly the same. He cradles the back of Scully’s head to protect it from knocking up against the arm rest, one knee on the seat, one foot on the floor, and his trench billowing around them both like a makeshift blanket. 

Her naked bottom half is smooth as silk, and though her legs are chilly against his hips she is molten between them and audibly wet. Aside from giving her consent she’s been mostly quiet, but when the arm Mulder is using to hold himself up grows tired and he drops down to his elbow, the change in angle seems to override her desire to be silent. 

“Oh my god,” she whispers, sounding surprised, and he almost loses it right there. 

They didn’t really talk about logistics, much less birth control, and as they both sail higher and higher he starts to think about what he should do with the massive amount of semen that’s about to exit his body, given how long it’s been since he took care of himself. Her upper half is still fully clothed and he’s positive she’d never forgive him for getting cum all over her blazer, but blowing his load inside her without permission may be even less forgivable. 

Scully gasps, and her cunt does too. She’s blindingly tight, and whimpering despite her best efforts, and Mulder pulls out of her in a panic as his own orgasm tears through him. With no better options, he aims for the floor and jerks himself through the height of it. By the time he’s finished, Scully has wormed her way out from beneath him and he can hear the rustle of fabric as she puts her clothes back on.

-

A semi passes by at daybreak and Mulder runs after it, waving his arms in the air like a lunatic. It doesn’t look like it’s going to stop, but finally it eases onto the shoulder and the weary driver agrees to take them back to Browning, since he’s already headed that way. 

Mulder runs back to the rental and tells Scully to gather their things. Glancing into the back seat, he sees that she’s laid a napkin out over the stain on the floor. She follows his gaze and gives him an awkward little smile and a shrug. He doesn’t expect that they’ll talk about it.

[violetmuses]

Safety Net - A. Aretas 🌴❤️‍🩹🫂

Title: Safety Net - A. Aretas 🌴 ❤️‍🩹 🫂

Fandom: “Bad Boys” Film Universe

Character: Armando Aretas

Pairing: Armando Aretas + Female Reader

Main Storyline: When Armando Aretas leaves Mexico and faces Miami again, you change his life.

@nelo0wesker @nobodygetsza @yeahnohoneybye @sofia-da-1st @spaceacelover @btitannaaaaa

=====

Safety Net: Chapter 1

2024

The quiet departure from Mexico took so much planning, but Armando Aretas returned to Miami at last. Hiding would just stall reality this time.

His biological father, well-known Detective Mike Lowrey, pulled strings and “eased” the lifetime sentence, but Armando just needed more.

Waiting around between missions seemed pointless. If not useful, Armando might as well go back to prison and lock that damn cell forever.

Taking one rental car back to the small apartment from Lowrey, Armando didn't contact his father right away and took this much-needed shower before organizing just a few belongings here.

“I'm back.” Armando called Lowrey by the early afternoon.

“Hey, man. Really? Do you want me to pick you up from the airport?” Mike was a little surprised while answering the phone.

“Nah. Already settled here, but I'm just telling you.” Armando cleared his throat awkwardly

“You found the house? Cool. Glad you called me, too. Need anything?” Even Mike clipped words at this point.

“Maybe a side hustle?” Armando tried to frame the question easily. “I don't wanna stay around if you'll just call for work.”

“Right, I didn't think of that idea. My bad.” Mike almost whispered. “Let's see if I can help out a little bit.”

“Yeah, bye.” Armando hung up and left once more, hoping to run errands.

____

Many ran straight to the grocery store for various reasons, but Armando didn't need much, unlike other folks with children and more vacation plans.

Leaving the self-checkout, warm sunlight hit the parking lot as Armando reached that car and settled items, but one person caught his eye.

One door opens from another storefront in the shopping center.

“Thank you so much!” You beamed toward restaurant staff while carrying takeout and kept walking in the direction of your own vehicle.

To Armando, you looked cute and raved as sunlight heats up the state of Florida.

Though watching you from a distance, Armando found himself smiling in return, but pulled together and drove away, simply refusing to act weird.

Who are you? Aretas ponders during the commute back.

_____

Cooking and eating alone, gentle music played from his Bluetooth speaker. The device stood as his most expensive item beyond weapons or gear.

One call interrupted washing the dishes, but Armando picked up regardless.

“Hello?” Armando greeted the caller.

“Hey, it's me. Got something. Do you mind if we meet early tomorrow?” Mike Lowrey picked up this call again.

“No. What's going on?” The day would have Aretas occupied.

“This barbershop owner needs help.” Mike explained. “You'll get paid for basic upkeep over there. Nothing fancy.”

“Doesn't sound terrible.” Armando grounded his plans for the morning.

“Fair enough. See you tomorrow.” Mike ended the call this time.

Better than nothing. Armando thought, sleeping without dreams in preparation.

_____

“What's up?” Cruising with style, Mike Lowrey arrived while driving his classic Porsche the next day and greeted Aretas in this lot. “We'll meet that owner first.”

“Cool.” Armando repeated the note of his estranged father.

“How was your flight?” Mike tried offering small talk.

“Good. Still getting used to the house.” Armando told the truth.

“You'll be fine.” Mike went on. “My first place wasn't always dope.”

“Wait. Didn't you grow up with money?” Aretas squinted near his father. “That's what Marcus told me.”

“Well, yeah, but your mother knocked out riches. I stood undercover and worked as her driver before you were born.” Mike cleared his throat. “Let's go.”

____

“Morning, Detective.” The barbershop owner spoke up while addressing Mike Lowrey.

“Morning, Sir.” Mike offered respect to the older gentleman. “We shared our phone calls earlier, but this is my son Armando.”

“Hello.” Genuinely kind while speaking English, Aretas offered to shake hands with the owner right now.

“Heard about you, but we don’t have much time for questions. Let me show you around.” The older man continued speaking. Even Mike Lowrey stepped back, letting this moment between two different people for once.

Let him grow and learn. That’s the only way out of this problem. Lowrey thought, quietly watching his son understand this new environment.

_____

For Armando, three important rules grounded his place at the barbershop:

Aretas needed to show up every day now, arrive on time, and avoid drama. Constant structure keeps this guy from trouble in the first place.

Clients for the barbershop varied all week and Armando would remain observant every time someone opened that chiming front door.

Sooner than later, staff knew his name and everyone laughed sometimes, offering Aretas this comradery that didn't include heartbreak.

“Have you met Mike's partner yet?” One employee chuckled while cleaning his station.

“Marcus?” Sweeping, Armando immediately rolled his eyes and workers cracked up about Detective Marcus Burnett, Mike Lowrey's famous partner.

“Oh, no! Tell us.” The employee settled down and resumed working.

“I joined special operations at the police department, but this barbershop thing is a temporary job.” Armando played up his role a little bit. “One time, Marcus accidentally set our car on fire.”

“Woah!” Voices gasped through shock and even the owner tuned in.

“Marcus didn't know that windshield wiper fluid is flammable, so we jumped out right before everything burst into flames.” Aretas nearly cringed.

“Damn!” This story just pulled everyone's attention.

“We made it out alive, but moments like that really happen.” Armando shook his head and still cleaned when the front door chimed again.

“Hi! How's everybody doing?” One greeting brightened up the entire space. “I'm just here to bring Dad some lunch.”

You walked toward that barbershop owner with the biggest smile on your face, carrying takeout.

“Hey, Sweetheart. Thank you.” The owner gently raved while facing you, his daughter.

[rizaposting]

What is your most specific royai headcanon?

Thank you!!! This was more difficult than I thought it would be... Specific... I think it would be sweet if they got married in a barn in the countryside, at the foothills of the mountains. Maybe an old property Roy had gotten for a safehouse/weapons store, or just a little rental property for them to have a fairly small and private ceremony. No military uniforms allowed. It rained the night before so the ground is a little wet and soft and Roy laments getting his fancy shoes wet but the sun lights up the dew on the field during the golden hour and it's pretty enough to shut him up. The ceremony is in the barn itself and they both cry a little because they're so happy....

I wanted to draw this all out for Royai day but alassss I ran super out of time because I was in the deep thralls of depression lol. Next year!!!

[evermourning]

𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐭 - hwang hyunjin

pairing: hwang hyunjin x reader, lovertober entry iii

genre: love at first sight, non!idol au, fluff, comfort, vacation romance, slice of life

wc: 5.2k

warnings: only one bed... (literally like ONCE) , language, mentions of alcohol, getting drunk, mutual pining, hyunjin is kinda self-deprecating, that stupid fucking miscommunication trope

a/n: ouranos is the embodiment of the sky in greek mythology...there are multiple ways to spell it but there are also multiple reasons i'm not writing uranus in my work 🤓 (i am not mature)

seasonal depression was kicking your ass right now.

work was piling up, you were struggling to find time to relax, and it was all so overwhelming that you were losing yourself piece by piece. finally, the long-awaited chance for you to take a break arrived, when you received a text from your grandmother.

as she asked you how you were doing, a thought came to your head. your grandmother made all her money through real estate and rentals...so what was saying she couldn't rent her place to you for a month or so? when you asked, she agreed almost instantly, rambling on and on about you were a lifesaver.

she allowed you to rent a beautiful and modern townhouse she owned on the outskirts of the city, smack dab in the art district, a beautiful display of all different cultures. it would truly be an amazing trip. plus, the house had more than one bedroom, so you'd get the spacious place all to yourself.

now, you stood in front of it, admiring the industrial-style architecture and lovely flowers blooming in boxes beneath tinted windows. this was going to change your life for the better. you knew it.

after settling in, you took a look around. the home had two different bedrooms with a wide seating area and kitchen, boasting two levels. your grandmother had really scored with this one. you called her as soon as you finished unpacking, thanking her profusely. however, when you noticed her kind eyes bore a new, mischievous twinkle, you couldn't help but be a tad suspicious. what were you missing?

your suspicions were confirmed that night. turns out your warm, loving grandma had some tricks up her sleeve.

it was around ten o'clock at night and you'd cuddled up on the couch with a warm blanket and a book, reading quietly and contentedly under a warm lamplight. the soft bustle of the city outside the window could lull you to sleep if you weren't careful. however, a sound from outside scared the shit out of you.

it almost sounded like...a lock turning?

wait.

that wasn't just any lock. it was your lock.

you covered your mouth, heart pounding, beating rapidly as you raced over to the kitchen to search for a makeshift weapon, settling on a frying pan. then, you hid just out of sight from the door, so that you could see it, but couldn't be seen. when the door opened, you gripped the cast iron pan as tight as possible. however, you lowered it when you noticed who it was.

it was the most beautiful man you'd ever laid eyes on.

however, he could always be a murderer in secret, so you crept out from your hiding spot, calling out softly (which was frankly a horrid idea) to the man standing at the door.

"who's there?"

when the man heard your voice, he shrieked. this caused you to scream too, until you two were face-to-face, the man ready to defend himself and you holding onto the frying pan for dear life. when you realized you weren't going to be hurt, you lowered the pan, getting a better look at the mysterious intruder.

holy fuck, he was gorgeous.

his skin was fair and perfect, obviously well taken-care of, as it seemed like there wasn't a single blemish upon it except for a singular mole below one of his eyes. his eyes were like dark chocolate, warm and slightly widened from the fear, and his plump, perfectly shaped lips were parted slightly in a little "o". his hair was the color of the night sky, tousled and styled perfectly, the tips falling just slightly above his shoulders. the young man was tall and lean, and not to mention very stylish.

"who are you and how did you get in here?" you began, stepping back cautiously. he gulped, taking a deep breath before speaking. he had a tranquil voice, tinged with worry. it had an oddly comforting tone.

"i'm, uh, renting this place for a month. who are you?" he said quietly.

"the lady who rents this place out is my grandmother." you explained, and he nodded. "but this is very odd...i was renting this place for a month."

the young man tilted his head in confusion.

"okay, um...that's weird. can you like, call her?" he suggested, playing with a piece of his hair. it looked very soft...

you nodded, and as you were pulling out your phone you pointed over to a door near the back porch.

"for now, put your stuff in there. we can both sleep here tonight...i'll let my grandmother know tonight and we can sort it out tomorrow. sounds good?"

"yeah." he confirmed, before giving you a gentle, awkward smile. "thanks, by the way. i was scared you were gonna kick me out or something. i'll be honest, i don't think i could survive a night out on the streets."

you laughed, and couldn't help but notice his cheeks becoming rosier when he heard the sound. as he went off to investigate the room you'd pointed out, you dialed in your grandmother's number. she picked up after the first three rings.

"hi, honey. have you settled in?" she cooed from the other side of the phone, her voice light and cheery. "anything you need?"

"you double-booked the townhouse and now there's an unfamiliar man here, grandma." as you explained to her the situation, the young man popped his head out of the door.

"hi, um...whatever your name is - there's no bed in here. it's just the frame." your blood ran cold. this was an even bigger problem because there was only one other mattress. shit.

"oh, yeah. i forgot to mention - one of the mattresses ripped and so i had to replace it. it's coming in a day or two, okay?" your grandmother paused, before giggling. "who knows? this could be your chance for a new shot at love."

"grandma...i've talked to this guy, what- once or twice? you're delusional." you sighed, massaging your temples. "and plus, i'll just sleep on the couch. he can have the room." after you hung up, the young man tentatively sat down on the couch beside you.

"so, what did she say?"

after you recounted her words to your new acquaintance, he sat in silence for a moment, before finally speaking up.

"well, we can figure out rooming and stuff...but how about we just live here together for the month? unless you're not comfortable with it, then i'll find myself a hotel and call your grandmother for a refund-"

"no, no, you took the time and effort to come all the way here - you deserve this vacation just as much as i do. you're welcome to stay." you smiled softly at him. "what's your name, by the way? you seem very kind. i'm yn."

his lips curled upwards, and you wanted to melt into a puddle at the sight.

"my name is hyunjin."

in a shocking turn of events, you were lying in the same bed as a boy you'd just barely met, an angel on earth named hwang hyunjin. you'd reassured yourself there was no way anything like this would happen on your trip, but you were very clearly wrong.

"alright. there's one other bedroom - which has an unripped mattress, might i add - and then one of us can sleep on the couch." you explained. hyunjin was quick to counter it.

"that's an awfully small couch..." he noted, circling it to get a better view. it was pretty small...

"i'll sleep on it. you can take the bed and we'll wash the sheets in the morning." you concluded. he looked at you, eyes wide.

"you can't do that! did you see this week's weather? you'll freeze out here!" he said pleadingly. you sighed, giving him a reassuring smile.

"you're very kind, hyunjin." you replied. "but i can get a blanket or two. i'll be okay."

he shook his head in response.

"we can share the bed and pile it with blankets. deal?" he asked, staring at you hopefully. "i don't want us to start off on the wrong foot and have someone be cranky because they slept on that creaky-ass couch."

he had a point, you told yourself. next thing you knew, you were laying on your side in your pajamas beside a barricade of linen pillows, watching the steady rise and fall of a guy you'd only known for a few hours' chest. he looked so peaceful as he slept, you only wished you could feel the same. you let out a soft sigh before falling back onto your pillow and drifting off into sleep.

hyunjin, on the other hand, was praying you thought he was sleeping. he knew you'd leaned over the get a better look at him, and he desperately hoped that the darkness of the bedroom concealed his flushed cheeks. thankfully, he heard a soft sigh escape your perfect lips and a thump of a head hitting the pillow beside him, allowing him to exhale, relieved.

he didn't think he was in love with you. that couldn't be possible. he'd only known you for three hours, forty-four minutes, and nine seconds (he counted). there was no way he could be this enamored with someone like you. sure, you were beautiful...like an angel who'd floated daintily down from the heavens above...and the fact that you had the loveliest personality...

but he didn't know that! maybe it was a facade. he hoped it was a facade, so that these weird, unwanted feelings of adoration and desire would just float away with a snap of his fingers. he was looking for a muse, and he wouldn't find one in some stranger with...breathtaking eyes...ugh.

this was going to be harder than he thought.

the next morning, you woke up and the bed was missing hyunjin's presence. you yawned, slipping into the bathroom to make yourself look somewhat presentable before going out to the kitchen. hyunjin sat at the counter, texting someone on his phone. when he heard teh door open, he grinned.

"good morning. your grandmother emailed me, so wanna go get some coffee at that café down the block to wake us up? then we can talk about living situations and whatnot." he was wearing a white printed shirt tucked into a pair of ripped jeans. he paired this with casual shoes and a cream-colored cardigan. you were envious of his style. however, you accepted the offer, and side-by-side you made your way to the shop.

you found your way to a booth in the back. the atmosphere was lovely, warm and modern with the smell of freshly baked pastries mixing with the strong scent of espresso. it felt so cozy, with a soft bossa nova melody playing through a speaker, its mood quite ambient. you'd put in your order and hyunjin's, as he'd made some comment about feeling uncomfortable ordering. you'd laughed at him, taking delight in his cheeks reddening from the teasing.

eventually, your order was called out, and with much pushing and shoving, hyunjin went and picked up the coffees. now, you were sipping away, sighing contentedly as if you could practically feel the caffeine flooding through your veins and energizing you. when you felt much more awake, hyunjin began speaking.

"okay, so she apologized profusely for the misunderstanding, but essentially, there's nothing she can do because the money's already been transferred. she gave me two options: you and i can live together for this month, or she'll use my rental money to pay for a hotel room." he tilted his head. "what are you thinking?"

"well...if you're comfortable with it, we can live together. i don't want to overstep any boundaries of yours, but it'll be better than hectically trying to find a place to stay, especially at this time of year. and who knows? maybe this is fate." you suggested, chewing on your straw. "does that work for you? the mattress for the second bedroom is supposed to arrive today, too. you can truly settle in."

hyunjin took a moment to consider the offer, before extending one hand for you to shake. it fits into yours perfectly, you noticed, but you didn't say anything.

"that works. this is so exciting, i've never really had a roommate before."

and so, like clockwork, spending time with hyunjin integrated itself into your daily routine. he was so fun to be around, and gave great tips on style. together, hand in hand, you explored the city. it was nice, you decided, to have a friend like him. even if you felt your heart rate spike when he lean over a little too close to grab something behind you, faces inches apart. even if you watched horror movies together and he made you wrap him in your arms because he was so terrified. it was really nice. and your mind was clearing.

the first time you felt an emotion towards hyunjin that was something more than a platonic feeling was about one-thirds into your vacation. he was on the second floor of the townhouse, in a room temporarily claimed as his art studio.

you loved watching him paint. each brush stroke was fluid and gentle, yet so inexplicably concise. two very different colors, bright in hue and vibrant could mix together with a dash of black or white and become something new altogether. perhaps a new shade with muted, earthen tones, or a dark shade of the color wheel. before he touched the blank canvas with his essence, it was bare and boring. a simple white. but the minute he let himself be enraptured by the very idea of artistry, the creativity pulsed from his fingertips and into the paintbrush, creating a story with each swish of the tool.

he stood at the easel, with you relaxing nearby. his brow was furrowed, and he drifted his index finger back-and-forth across the empty, emotionless piece of fabric.

"i don't know what to paint." he huffed, walking over to the large window to search the streets for some inspiration. you stood up, brushing off your pants and making your way over to the place beside him. he looked down at you, and it was like a lightbulb lit up above his head comically. "yn...would it be okay if i painted you?"

you were so excited, nodding and taking his hands.

"i would love nothing more!" you crowed. hyunjin fidgeted with his hands nervously.

"um, one thing. can you take off your necklace? my art style is in many ways detailed but also abstract. i think it'll throw me off a little."

you nodded. after a few attempts to remove it, you ended up giving him a sheepish look.

"can you help me with it?" he nodded, moving right behind you. you lifted up your hair a bit out of his way. your heart was pounding, echoing so loudly within your chest you were so sure that the next door neighbors could hear it. as his soft hands worked expertly to remove it, your face felt like it was burning. you flinched a bit when his fingers brushed against the sensitive skin of your neck.

little did you know, it was driving hyunjin crazy just as much as it was making you insane. he felt like a victorian man viewing ankles for the first time, with the way he was heating up at the sight of your soft, beautiful skin. the way you shuddered when he touched the skin gently was enough to make him want to grab you and kiss you at that very moment. but he didn't, because there was no way you felt that way in return, and he didn't want to singlehandedly ruin this relationship with you that he'd been so carefully building, piece by piece. he shook it off, unclipping the chain and handing it to you, before slipping into the space behind his easel. you posed on the chair, crossing one leg over the other. after what felt like an eternity, hyunjin motioned for you to get up and come see his completed masterpiece.

what stared back at you was only the most emotional and dazzling piece that hyunjin had made (in your opinion). it perfectly captured your features and displayed them in an alluring array of colors. you looked over at him, jaw dropped. he laughed softly at your astonishment.

"you like it?"

"i love it." you murmured, tracing your own lips with your pinkie. "you're so talented. you're so humble about it, hyunjin, but i know natural-born talent when i see it. please never stop painting, especially if you love it."

"so basically, what you're saying is..." hyunjin said, dark eyes trained on you. "...that i should continue following the things i love?"

"yeah."

the second time these overwhelming feelings flooded your system was on a warm saturday night. the sky was bright and clear, so you'd suggested stargazing. you two sat on a grassy green hill perfectly placed twenty or so minutes away from the house, carefully laying out a blanket to watch from. you pointed out various stars and patterns and constellations, impressing hyunjin with your knowledge.

you laid there with him, the grass tickling your skin. his skin was soft and flush against yours, warm and gentle like a mother’s touch, your hands intertwined. you hoped he didn't feel your palms being slightly sweaty from the nervousness. his thumb softly rubbed figure eight-shaped patterns into the back of your hand. from this angle, hyunjin looked absolutely ethereal, like a beloved son of aphrodite herself. his dark hair paired with long, ebony eyelashes and full, parted lips was an absolute killer. you were trying so hard to focus on the stars, but you couldn't help yourself from staring at him instead of the night sky.

"i love watching the stars. it makes me so mad when nights are cloudy and these beauties are hidden from the world." hyunjin commented. his words struck a harmonious chord inside you.

"astronomy is really such a showcase of beauty and elegance. true beauty, like the millions of stars painting our universe as if they were the freckles on ouranos’ skin, is something one could only dream of. seeing these natural wonders makes me lucky to be alive, to be a living, breathing human. as a human, i am blessed to have eyes so that i can take in these little joys. hyune, do you realize some people will never get to see the stars?"

"i do." he was quiet for a moment, before continuing. "sometimes, i wonder if they will never see the stars because they physically cannot, or they’re just not looking hard enough. i makes me a bit disappointed that they're not admiring the universe's beauty. we're not on this earth forever. we have to embrace every second."

"yeah." you grinned at him. "i have you, though. our time together may not be permanent, i will cherish every single memory."

hyunjin frowned. he rolled over on his stomach, turning slightly to face you better.

"what says our time together can't be permanent? we've grown so close. i want to make more memories with you after this." you knew he didn't intend for his words to be perceived this way, but you couldn't help it. your mind drifted off to fantasies of hyunjin as your boyfriend. holding your hand on the street, baking together...hyunjin smiling as he swiped frosting off your bottom lip...a healthy, happy love. you needed it.

and it was almost painfully ironic, the fact that during this entire hypothetical dream sequence you were experiencing, you didn’t even notice hyunjin zeroing in on your lips. you didn’t notice the pink coloring obvious upon his skin. you didn’t even notice when his hand came up to rest against your cheek. his touch was careful, soft, like you were some fragile beauty he was scared of breaking. it snapped you out of your trance when he spoke again.

"you look like you have a tiny scar on your cheek. what's that from?"

you reached your hand up to your own face, a small sound of surprise leaving your lips as you ran your finger along it.

"i didn't even notice i had this. god, you're so observant." you said lightly, sitting up and brushing off your pants. hyunjin watched.

"i really am, aren't i? sometimes i feel like some all-knowing creature, seeing everything but saying nothing." you nodded, scooting in closer so you could lean against him. he wrapped an arm around you, keeping you both warm.

"well, if you feel like a bystander, you should try speaking up more. no matter what you do, though, you know i'll still look at you like you're polaris. i hope you shine forever, hyunjin. and i'm so happy that we've grown so close, so i pray i'll get to see you flourish and sparkle like the very stars we're dazzled by right now."

you hoped these words resonated in the nooks and crannies of the brain you'd been so interested in. hiding your true feelings was getting harder and harder. you wanted to let him know that you were absolutely infatuated with him instantly. you wanted his embrace to become tighter, more protective. but you knew it wouldn't. you weren't a fool. you could keep this massive secret of yours under wraps, yes?

your master plan was foiled a week or two later.

you and hyunjin had been playing around, and it got a bit out of control. namely, you were completely and utterly drunk. although hyunjin reacted to your state with amusement, worry coursed through his veins. you were babbling, slurring your words. you were usually so composed, hyunjin had never seen this side of you.

he sat on the couch as you were snuggled into his side, snoring blissfully. he looked down at you, his hand hovering just over the small of your back. he didn't want to touch you without your consent, but he really wanted to just hold you in his arms.

these days, every waking thought he had included you. whether it was a daydream, a nightmare, anything: you were in it. every aspect of his life had been taken over by the very idea of you. he was scared. he knew your time in this home was finite, so he'd been trying his very best to keep you with him, with his little hope being that you felt the same way.

hyunjin had never felt so strongly about someone. he wanted to hold your hand until you were old and grey, he wanted to know you inside and out. know every little detail of your beautiful brain. it was insane. he was losing it, fearing you'd forget him after you left. what if your work began to overtake you, and you stopped contacting him? he couldn't let that happen, not when he'd spent all this time loving you. okay, that was a stretch, but he felt like if you reciprocated his feelings of longing and desire, together you could blossom and grow like the first blooms upon a barren tree in the spring.

he didn't want to overthink it, he didn't want to get ahead of himself. you'd said some things he'd perceived as sentences with romantic undertones, but he didn't want to explicitly confess these jumbled feelings for you if his heart was simply going to be shattered.

however, you nestled yourself closer to him, a sigh escaping your lips, and hyunjin felt as if the tendrils of white-hot flames were dancing across his body from your touch.

"mmm...you're such a nice pillow, jinnie." you mumbled, and he turned to face you more, raising an eyebrow. jinnie? you never called him that. "it's almost like we're a couple."

he felt his cheeks slowly change to a color akin to rose petals.

"w-what?" he asked, stumbling over his words. "don't joke about that."

"i know, i know." a comically large frown crossed your face. "i don't want to joke about it because then, it'll make me believe i actually have a shot with you. i know how you feel about me will probably be obsolete after we part ways." hyunjin's mouth dropped open. he was racking his brain for proof this was happening. would he have to pinch himself? there was no way someone like you would have feelings for a person like him.

"can you elaborate on that? i know you're not really yourself right now...but please." he pleaded, steadying you my placing a firm grip on your shoulders.

"i've been a little in love with you since that night we um...slept together but didn't." you giggled. "you're so perfect though, but you're so oblivious...how can i show you i truly care?"

and then out of nowhere, you placed a hand on his cheek, kissing him. the kiss was sweet and soft, but filled with all the love and emotion your drunken self could muster. hyunjin had to admit, he liked it, but he was a sensible man. he pushed you off him.

"yn, no. we'll cover this in the morning. it was really a beautiful kiss, but you're not yourself right now, and if i possibly am in love with you back, i'm not going to do anything until you're not under the influence." he helped you up, acting as a crutch for you to walk safely back to your room. he hoisted you onto your bed to the best of his abilities, where you were out the minute your head touched the pillow. he took a second to stare longingly at your sleeping face before shutting the door.

hyunjin flopped onto the couch, his head in his hands.

you liked him back?

there was no way. hyunjin was horrid, built with flaws and all sort of insecurities that you'd never be able to stand. you had been nothing short of kind to him, but what if he showed you this side he'd been so ready to conceal, and you looked at him with disgust and contempt? he'd never be able to bear it. so he prayed you'd wake up and feel the same way you did drunk.

you woke up with a raging headache and a raging feeling of dread pooling in the pits of your stomach. something wasn't right. you knew you'd been drunk the night before, but trying to look back on it was impossible. it was like a haze.

when you opened the bedroom door, hyunjin was sitting there. he gave you a crooked smile.

"i made you breakfast and got you a coffee from the coffee shop, in case you felt super hung over. once you're feeling up to it, can we talk about something?" his words made you want to violently hurl. you most likely said some vulgar thing while drunk, and he didn't feel comfortable being around you. however, you were going to face it and atone. you didn't want to lose hyunjin.

you carefully sat down beside him, your legs crossed.

"okay." he began. "this is going to be very awkward, so bear with me. last night, while you were...tipsy...you sort of confessed your feelings to me? it wasn't very direct, but you did kiss me really romantically, so please be upfront about your feelings. if they're there, they're there. if they're not, they're not."

your face burned. god, why did you make the decision to even get drunk?

"they're there. i've liked you since we met, but it didn't feel romantic until that day when you painted me. since then, i've been a hopeless mess of myself, a puddle, basically. i didn't want to make our friendship weird or anything because you've been nothing short of amazing to me..."

hyunjin interrupted you, a sigh of relief leaving his lips, much to your confusion.

"that's so good to hear. for fuck's sake, if i overthought one more of our interactions i think i was gonna burst." he took your hands in his. "i've been in love with you since we met. i know love at first sight only happens in the books and movies, but i feel like fate brought us together. i feel like i was made to be by your side. i've grown so accustomed to your presence and beauty that i don't think i can live without it anymore. i love very strongly, and sometimes that may be too much to bear, but i swear, if you choose me, i will worship the ground you walk on. you have blessed my life, yn. my mind, my body, and my soul. all drunk off the high that is the very essence of your spirit."

and then he hugged you.

it wasn't tight, like he was scared he'd lose you. it was soft and warm, gentle as his arms encircled around you. you rested your head upon his chest.

"so...are we at a mutual agreement?" you asked, breaking the silence awkwardly. hyunjin looked at you, before erupting into a soft giggle, his lips curling into a warm smile. "hey! i wanna know...what are we?"

"soulmates, i guess?" hyunjin suggested. and you smiled at him, brushing a stray hair out of his face. "we're not super official yet, so let's start with that."

the dreaded day arrived when you had to leave the home you'd known for the last month. you wanted to stay longer, but you knew you had a life outside of this euphoria. however, you wouldn't be facing it alone anymore. now, you had a boyfriend who was a drama queen and a force to be reckoned with. he'd support you in anything you did.

you stood outside the house with him, his arm wrapped languidly around your waist as you gripped the handle of your suitcase.

"i'll miss this place. there's so many memories here. it's our sacred spot." you murmured sentimentally. he laughed gently, kissing your cheek.

"i know, but we can always come back another time. who knows? maybe we'll buy a place together in this area." hyunjin suggested. after seeing your facial response to that, he grinned sheepishly. "too early?"

you shook your head, giggling. hyunjin gently grabbed your chin, lifting it up a bit so he could see your face better.

"sweetheart, your lip is bleeding." he murmured gently, moving closer to inspect it. "did you notice?"

you shook your head.

"well, i'm not a doctor, but my mother taught me if something gets hurt you should always kiss it better." and he leaned in to softly presss his lips to yours, each movement filled with passion.

it was so funny to you, how you'd came into this situation thinking this trip would change your life for the better, and instead you got something even better.

it must have been a blessing by the gods, granting you this lovely new beginning.

taglist: @darkypooo , @hyunbae-35 , @backintomykpopphaseagain , @stateofdelicategrace , @elizaschuyler18 , @lillithathecat , @imastraykidsfan , @nightimescapes , @mal-lunar-28

@evermourning, ©2023. all rights reserved.

[weirdmorefics]

Unmasked Chpt 1- The Call

Word Count- 1,461

Morning came slowly I stayed up most of the night with nightmares. The nightmares are usually worse this time of year, I think it is my mind's way of reminding me of the anniversary of the first Ghostface murders. My brain is wrong though I need no reminder. The only thing keeping me at all sane during the night is the fact that Spencer is not lecturing today and I will get to see him in the morning at work.

I walk into the BAU with a box of donuts for the team since we are all stuck doing boring paperwork today.

"Morning kid, you look like shit. Long night?" Rossi says full of humor.

I roll my eyes and open the box of donuts, "Hey, don't bite the hand that feeds you."

Rossi puts his hands up in surrender then grabs a donut, "Thanks, kid."

As he walks away I shout "Could you stop calling me kid too because that would be great!"

I set the donuts down in the breakroom and picked out one of Spencer's favorites to set on his desk.

I approach Spencer's desk and set the napkin-wrapped donut down on his desk. "Morning Reid,"

"Thank you, Y/n morning to you too. Did you know Americans consume ten billion donuts every year?"

I smile "Well let's make that ten billion and one." My phone cuts off the conversation and I see my sister's contact photo, "Excuse me I have to take this..." I hope he didn't notice my face shift to an anxious one.

Sidney never calls only texts and she still barely does that. She thinks I am an idiot for chasing after the crazy people who kill when enough killers already come after us.

"Do not come to Woodsboro," Sidney states in a serious tone as soon as I pick up my cell.

"Wow, what a lovely way to begin a call! No, hey sis how are you?" I bite back sarcastically.

"Did you hear me Y/n? Do not come to Woodsboro!" She repeats.

" I wasn't planning on going to that hell town anytime soon. What's going on with you? Shouldn't you be busy with your book tour or something?" I respond trying not to sound concerned.

"He's back Y/n," she whines out.

I swallow deeply and walk away from the desks and towards Penelope's office she is never here this early anyway. "This isn't funny Sidney."

"I am in Woodsboro and my rental car has a murder weapon in it and ripped-up pictures of my face and yours. Oh and did I forget to mention two kids were murdered in the same exact way as the original ones... so yeah I'd say he's back." She responds quickly in an angry panic.

I slam open Penelope's door and proceed to vomit my guts out in her trash can. I hear the wheels of her chair squeak as Penelope looks at me with concern as I dry heave in her trashcan. I definitely should have checked if anyone was in here first.

"Sweetheart, are you okay?" Penelope asks softly.

"Sidney, I got to let you go," I breathe out and hang up on her.

I wipe the sweat off my forehead. Why does no one ever mention how exhausting dry heaving is?

"I'm fine Garcia," I try to sound detached. I can't be here. One thing that makes the Ghostface all the same is they want to kill the Prescotts and everyone they love.

"You really don't look fine," she says full of concern.

I try to exit without a word but Penelope is quick to follow to make sure I am okay. It must be an odd scene as Penelope chases me and I speed walk away. Especially since we are always attached at the hip.

I ignore everyone's gaze and walk into Prentiss's office without a word.

Prentiss was doing paperwork of her own and did not even look up, " I need a leave of absence as soon as possible... preferably today"

That statement made her head quickly whip away from her mess of papers, "This is awfully unlike you Y/n... has something happened."

The stress of the anniversary, Ghostface, and the worry of losing Spencer Reid after we just got him back from prison seem to boil all over at once. "I JUST NEED A LEAVE OF ABSENCE IS THAT SO HARD TO DO EMILY!" I shout so loud and instantly regret as I see all my team members' eyes on me from Emily's office window.

"I am sorry Prentiss," I put my hand to my forehead fighting back the anger and fear-induced tears. I have seen so many murders I should be used to it at this point but Ghostface will always be different he always comes back as someone new.

Emily stands up shutting the blinds to her office to halt the onlookers. "L/N you need to tell me what this is about, right now! I have never once seen you act like this."

I pace back and forth the last name I made up did nothing to protect me I will always be a Prescott. I just need to get out of here before they find that out. I take a deep breath, "I am really sorry I can't, I just can't tell you. It will just get you hurt. It will get the whole team hurt and I can't do that! Spencer just got back, Scratch is gone, and the team is almost back to normal I will not ruin it. I am going to leave either way I just needed you to know."

I turn to leave but Emily grabs my arm, "Agent, if you are in danger I need to know. One more thing you also seem to be forgetting is this team won't be normal without you."

A knock follows her statement, "Is everything okay? Garcia told me Y/n was sick. Does she need a drive home?" It's Spencer's voice I can tell immediately. The question makes this even harder. Why must he be so kind? Why can't I stand to leave him?"

Emily's gaze meets mine, "I recognize that look."

"Prentiss I don't have time for your profile," I whisper shout to prevent Spencer from hearing me.

"I know all too well what it's like to be undercover Y/n," Emily states compassionately.

"I have no idea what you mean?"

"Your file is suspiciously blank and sealed of all past background and Strauss assured me it's for the better. It is similar to what my file used to look like." Emily unfortunately continues to profile me.

I feel trapped I can't go to the door Spencer is there and there is no escaping Emily's questions.

Spencer proceeds to knock again, "Everything alright in there?"

I sigh, "Emily I will tell you everything if you leave the team out of this."

"Y/n you know I can't promise that," she frowns.

I grab her hands tightly, "You have to because I know how to deal with this but every time he comes back someone around me dies!"

"Who comes back Y/n?" Emily's tone changes to a demanding one like the one she uses in the interrogation room.

"Promise me you won't tell the team! Promise me you won't let Reid get involved." Tears prick my eyes I don't care that I am being blatant about my feelings for Reid nothing can happen because I am cursed to repeat the same horrors for the rest of my life.

Emily sighs, "I promise."

"Ghostface is back... and my last name isn't L/N... it's- it's Prescott," I stutter as the words come out like saying them would make this more real than it already is.

"As in the Woodsboro killings?" Emily asks in utter disbelief.

"Unfortunately... and I have to go back there, for my sister," I state. "You can not convince me not to, I can't lose her."

"Y/n we solve cases just like this we can do this as a team," She soothes.

"Tell that to the last agent who tried to help my sister and nearly died," my stress getting the better of me causing me to shout and not notice Spencer opening Prentiss's office door.

I felt the eyes on me once again, I doubt I can talk myself out of this one. The chance of a silent escape gone stuck in a room of profiles who could sense I am on the urge to bolt out the door. Then my phone starts to ring in my pocket, none of the team seems to notice when Emily gives me a knowing look. She clearly knows the Ghostface cases well they all start with a phone call.

Taglist- @bunbunbl0gs

[breha]

“There is no reason to have a practically functioning gun on a set,” Stahelski said. “To have a live round on a set is criminal. There isn’t a gun on our set that you could put a round into that it would be able to fire.” The subject is particularly close to Stahelski, who was the stunt double for Brandon Lee, who was killed by a gun discharge on the set of “The Crow” in 1993. Stahelski refrains from speaking specifically about Lee or what happened on “Rust” but says there’s an industry-wide problem. “Ninety percent of the weapons available to rent are practical firearms,” he said. “So you’re asking the industry to dump all their rentals and restock. Not that it shouldn’t happen.” Yet the “John Wick 4” production corralled dozens of stunt actors, hundreds of firearms and thousands of rounds of ammunition into 14 action sequences on four continents, all while creating a unified tone for a coherent narrative without anyone ever getting hurt by any of those guns. “The baseline is that we give a shit — more than anybody else,” said Stahelski with Wick-like bluntness.

[princeescaluswords]

I like Stiles as a character, but I often get frustrated by fanon diverging from canon, and the worst of it to me is the ways that Lydia treated by Stiles - as something he deserves, most notably when she kisses Scott and he's angry, which the fandom holds against Scott because apparently Lydia making choices means Scott is a bad friend - or in the scene when Lydia is high after the werewolf attack at the movie rental place, and the only thing that keeps Stiles from doing [something] is that Lydia calls out for Jackson rather than him.

I think Stiles is kind of a jerk, and I like him because of it, but the fanon Stiles used as a weapon to bludgeon canon Scott is... the dumbest thing in the fandom

Have you ever seen the frequent criticism on this site that certain people should have paid more attention in English class? This criticism arises from posts like the one I saw today, where a person was confessing that "people think Stiles is evil because he almost made out with Lydia while she was drugged up." I don't think Stiles is evil for doing that; it sounds like you don't think Stiles is evil. I've never actually heard anyone call him evil for almost giving into temptation. (The closest I've ever come to calling Stiles's evil is his behavior in Lies of Omission (5x09) and Status Asthmaticus (5x10) and I don't even go that far). What we do recognize that what he did in Lydia's bedroom in The Tell (1x05) wasn't the right way to behave.

Stiles's desire for Lydia is real and natural; it was his inability to recognize and respect proper boundaries that almost created a very bad situation. He did pull away when Lydia said Jackson's name; the realization that she was confused about who he was and not secretly attracted to him reminded him that his behavior wouldn't be the fulfillment of his desire but him taking advantage of her. It's a good scene that tells us about Stiles's weaknesses but also about his strengths: beyond the insecurity that leads him to fixate on the most unattainable girl in school and his constant disregard for proper boundaries, Stiles is a fundamentally decent human being.

So why do I, personally, bring up this scene when talking about Teen Wolf a lot? Stiles-stans (who are not really fans of Stiles but fans of Fanon Stiles or, more accurately, Self-Insert with a Stiles Name Tag) like to go on and on about how deficient a person Scott McCall, the lead protagonist, is because he was "obsessed" with Allison and lacrosse. They argue this to say why they 'dislike' him, but what they actually mean is that he shouldn't be the lead protagonist. But they never seem to remember Stiles's behavior when it comes to Lydia (or Derek's behavior when it comes to Paige or Liam's behavior when it comes to Hayden for that matter).

My position -- and I think the production shared this position -- is that Scott's desire to have a girlfriend and make first line on the lacrosse team is real and natural. However, his attempts to avoid recognizing and coping with the consequences of Peter's vicious assault could lead to very bad situations unless he took responsibility. Scott had to learn how to anchor himself -- which he did! He had to make sure he put what was truly important ahead of his relationship with Allison -- which he did!

I have always maintained that Teen Wolf is a bildungsroman, which is a story about children becoming adults. Throughout the series, Scott's growth is primary; he evolves from an asthmatic loser who feels like he sits on the sidelines of life into a True Alpha werewolf leading a war against those who would murder supernatural creatures out of self-interest. But he's not the only one to grow. Allison had her own story; Lydia had her own story; Derek had his own story (one of the best redemption arcs ever); and Stiles had his version of that story!

The problem is that there are a lot of people who didn't watch Teen Wolf as a story, but rather as raw material. They swooped in and picked up the parts that they wanted, like vultures devouring a carcass. They wanted Stiles and <insert white male love interest here> to be the focus of the show, as they were the focus of their interests, but they could do without the part where Stiles struggles to grow up. In response, they selected only the parts that fit their agenda. Thus, Scott becomes dull, obsessive, stupid, with a foolish no-kill rule, and an unearned hostility toward the Hale Family whom he shamelessly usurps, even though none of that description is remotely true. On the other hand, Stiles becomes the should-be valedictorian of his class, a master archmage, and a ruthless anti-hero ready to kill anyone to protect which ever white male character he loves this week, even though none of that description is remotely true.

Fandom, in the name of their own enjoyment, has boiled their understanding of the story down to "I don't like Scott" and "Stiles is not evil!" Nuanced takes like "Stiles had the courage to cross boundaries to protect others but that tendency also led him into some problematic actions" and "Scott didn't start out a heroic protagonist; he only embraced the mantle when he realized that the threats he had to face didn't care that he and his friends were teenagers." become difficult for them to understand and unpleasant for them to process, because they only really want Power Fantasy Stiles and Bad Friend Scott. Those bits and pieces fit into the pre-existing tropes that bring them pleasure. It's the limitations that frustrate them, not Teen Wolf's.

[dark-angel-of-muses]

A Selkie and A Succubus

A03 Link

"Linkkkkkkk. I'm hungry." Ravio's tail batted insistently against the selkie's leg, draping himself over Link's shoulder.

"Can't wait?" Link leveled a flat stare at his boyfriend. Ravio's little bat wings fluttered impatiently, and he made a big show of pouting.

"Fine. Here." Link set down the skillet he was frying eggs on and kissed the succubus on the cheek. Ravio trilled in delight. "Thanks for the snack."

Such a glutton. Link had given him sleepy cuddles this morning for a full hour. That was basically a three course meal for the succubus. Sure, the food might be more mild than others of his kind went for, but Ravio had admitted to never wanting anything spicier than some kisses. Even then, he preferred neck kisses to mouth kisses, citing grossness.

Even after getting his snack, Ravio clung to Link like a koala, tail snaking around his leg and squeezing in a miniature hug. Link rolled his eyes, but smiled all the same. Ravio was such a cuddle bug, in a way Link was 100% sure had nothing to do with the sustenance he got from affection.

“You’re going to have to get dressed and go to work eventually.”

“Nooooo,” Ravio whined, curling his tail tighter. “Sleep. And food.” His wings fluttered behind him.

“Guess that means we won’t have any rupees to spend on a date night this week,” Link teased. “I’ll just have to leave you all alone while I go dungeon crawling to pay for your lazy days.”

“Ugh. You’re the worst.” Ravio pouted, puffing out his cheeks and making sad puppy eyes. Still, the promise of money and dates was enough to spur him into his morning routine, pulling off oversized pajamas and donning his usual purple robes. There was a slit in the robes for his tail to curl out, and the back had been cut out from his shoulder blades to mid-back to make room for his wings. 

“See, was that so hard?”

“Your eggs are burning.”

“Shit!”

xxx

Ravio’s Rabbit Rentals was a two person outfit. Link explored dungeons, killed monsters, and collected everything that caught his interest while exploring. Then, Ravio would take the spoils and do his best to rent or sell Link’s items to any less experienced adventurers wanting an edge in their own quests. Link would complain that he did all the hard work while Ravio just stole his things to sell, but it was all for show. He wanted nothing to do with customer service or figuring out the market on how much magical items would be worth. Not to mention Ravio actually had to go out and do collection runs to get his rentals back, which seemed like no fun. So for all Link would whine, he was quite happy with the arrangement.

Ravio had a winning smile and perfect suck-up tone when he was on the clock. 

“You seem ruggedly handsome, like you could climb the cliffs of Death Mountain alone! With the Tornado Rod to help speed things along, I’m sure you could tackle the Tower of Hera.”

“Oh, you look so clever, Miss. Why not take a bomb bag rental? You seem like you could find so many ways to use them.”

Link didn’t get it, but he was happy he didn’t have to.

Some time later, Link was doing basic weapon maintenance, sharpening swords, refilling the mana on enchanted rings, when he heard it.

“You’re the local succubus, right?” A woman’s voice sounded.

“Ravio of Ravio’s Rabbit Rentals, that’s me! Would you be interested in our wares? I have a lovely fire rod with your name on it!” So overzealous in his sales pitches, that one.

“Actually, I was more interested in a service you provide.” Her tone was sultry, making Link roll his eyes. Sometimes customers would come in and try to flirt. Ravio usually took advantage of their interest to make them leave with arms full and wallets empty.

“A service? Oh, are you looking to rent? Or perhaps pawn, we are willing to do minor loans for dungeon loot!” Did they do pawn services? Eh, best not to think about it. Ravio was just responsible enough for Link to let him handle the business without oversight. Emphasis on ‘just enough’.

“I’m looking to rent,” The customer purred. Honest to god purred. Like a cat. Was she a werebeast? Link couldn’t help but peek his head from around the corner. Nope. Vampire. So she was just shameless.

“Well, if you want an itemized list of all rentals we have available or are expecting back within the next two weeks, I can go get the inventory log for you-”

“Oh I’m not looking for something in inventory. I’m looking to rent some time with you.” There was the sound of shuffling and cloth meeting cloth. Was she backing Ravio into a table?

“O-oh. Um. I don’t really? Do that sort of thing?” Ravio squeaked.

“C’mon, you’re a succubus. You’re going to say no to money and food? I heard you’d do anything for a quick rupee.” If it were in any other context, Link would agree. Ravio would probably eat glass for five rupees. But with the terrible flirtatious tone she was using…

Ok, that was it, Link was stepping in. “Excuse me, can I help you?” He made sure to bring his sword with him, and intentionally sheathed and unsheathed it to make an audible shink, smiling as the woman flinched back. Ravio let out an audible sigh of relief as he walked in.

“Huh? You didn’t tell me there were other people in here!” She looked accusingly at Ravio.

“Oh, did you not hear? This is my partner and supplier, Link. He is the source for all our wares. He’s braved Lynels, hordes of Daira, and even fell the evil sorcerer who kidnapped the princess some years back. He’s very talented.” Ravio took the chance to slip away from the customer’s reach and hide behind Link, reaching to squeeze Link’s right hand.

“Sorry about not finding what you want here. Ravio has a discerning palate.” Link smirked as she caught the underhanded insult, mouth opening and closing like a fish. To punctuate his point, Link leaned over and gave Ravio a peck on the cheek, never taking his eyes off the vampire.

If she had blood left in her veins, her face probably would have paled. Instead, her eyes just widened and she hurried to make her leave, accidentally stubbing her toe on the leg of a table in her scramble to leave as fast as possible.

“Thanks for the help, Link.” Ravio returned the kiss on the cheek, smiling gratefully. 

“No problem. I swear, your customers get the dumbest ideas.”

“I mean, I get it. I’m not really normal,” Ravio sighed, eyes cast to the floor.

“Hey, hey. What do I keep telling you? There’s nothing wrong with you.” Link cupped his hands under Ravio’s chin and gently pulled his gaze back up. “You can eat or not eat whatever you want, nobody else gets uppity about food preferences.”

“I know, I know,” Ravio put his hand over Link’s leaning his cheek into the touch. “Sometimes it’s just hard to remember when people like her come in. And it’s not like I avoid it, I know I get close to customers when I make sales pitches.”

“Hey, calling someone handsome or pretty is by no means free reign for someone to come in and ask for ‘services’.” Link pushed his forehead against Ravio’s. “Are you ok? Do you need to close the shop early?”

“No, I’m fine, thanks to you.” Ravio leaned in for a quick peck on the lips. “Thank you for saving me, Mr. Hero.”

xxx

"That pelt you're wearing around your shoulders, it's selkie, right?"

Ravio shifted uncomfortably. Two belligerent customers in one day? Seriously? "Ah, yes, but-"

"I'll pay top rupee if you're willing to part with it. Those go for high prices, even without the monster they're attached to. I mean, that's potentially eternal servitude right there. Not to mention how high quality the magic inside is." When he had first seen the man come in, his thick wallet had excited Ravio. Now, dread was pooling in his stomach.

"This isn't for sale, but maybe I can point you to some wonderful magic tunics from the depths of a dungeon?" Ravio forced a smile on his face, trying to redirect.

"Hah, don't you worry. I'll spend enough to buy you a legion of servants to replace your selkie. If you need him for the food, I can ensure you'll be feasting on the finest love money can buy."

Ravio's eye twitched. "I don't need servants, and I'm perfectly content with my eating arrangement as is. Please look only at wares on display. Otherwise I'll need to ask you to leave."

"Now, now. Everyone has some price. Please, ask for anything your heart desires, I can make it happen-"

Ravio's tail snapped in anger, hitting the table next to him. "Sir. The thing my heart desires most in this moment is for you to shut the hell up, buy something that's actually for sale, then leave and never come back to my house again. If you want a selkie pelt so badly, go scrape up some stinking dignity and convince someone to give theirs to you. I doubt you ever can because you think no matter how atrocious you are, you can pay to make up for it. There's not enough rupees in the world that would ever have me tied to a sniveling, old money brat who waves around his wealth to make up for the inadequacy of every other thing about him. So either get something that actually has a price tag, or get out."

The man sputtered, red in the face. He tried and failed to make a comeback, then angrily tried to yank the pelt around Ravio's shoulders. Really? Stealing? Ravio stepped back, and whistled for backup. Sheerow swooped in, pecking the man relentlessly.

"Ow! Owowowowow!" The little white bird pecked the man onto the welcome mat and out the door, slamming the door behind him for good measure.

"You're such a good business partner, you know that?" His friend landed in his cupped palms, and chirped happily as Ravio snuggled him close to his face.

“That was kinda hot.” Link was leaning against the door frame, a grin splitting his face. Ravio flushed red and jumped, realizing he wasn’t alone.

“Ah! Sorry you had to see that. Do you want your pelt back?” Ravio adjusted the pelt around his shoulders. When they first started dating, Link gave it to him as a sign of trust. Link would still take it with him when he needed to swim in the oceans, but most of the time he left the soft pink fur in Ravio’s hands. Still, there were some nights when Link would take the pelt and hold it close to his chest, eyes foggy with awful memories. Ravio wanted him to feel safe and secure; his Hero deserved that much.

“Why would I? Clearly it's in good hands.” Link sauntered over and kissed into his hair. The succubus’ tail flicked and his wings fluttered. Link’s kisses were always so delicious; his boyfriend spoiled him with how well he ate.

“I won’t let anyone else touch it. You’re so important to me, you know that?” Ravio looked up at Link, feeling the affection burning in his chest. “Even if I’m a coward, I’ll still protect it with my life.”

“I know you will.” Link’s voice was filled with so much love and trust, Ravio felt the satiation of fullness as he drank up the words. 

Ravio truly was blessed.

[purelyfiction]

the name of someone i no longer know

Jake Seresin x F!Reader

Word Count: 1,406 words

Summary: it's stick season what can i say? also maybe this is whump-tober coded who knows

Content Warning:  alcohol use/abuse, maybe alcoholism, dui mention, police interaction, drunk jake, a little aggression, heartbreak and all around sad

Author Note: what the summary said

Jake had loved California for the reasons that it never seemed to rain. It was flooded with lots of sunshine, beaches and bars. Good music, good friends, good girls and bad decisions to be made.

Until he was sent back to the thick of it - sent to Annapolis to be shipped off for some form of deployment, only to be delayed due to concerns for the ship. Instead of sending him back to California, they'd kept him in Maryland.

Maryland was his personal Hell on Earth.

Flooded with memories of the cooler months, pumpkin patches filled with your laugh, dive bars he'd lost himself in like corn mazes he'd held onto you in. This place haunted him. Especially when it rained and God, did it rain in this damned state.

Another Friday of work slips away from him, until he's at the old bar whose name had been a weapon in the fallout. Jake sits peeling labels of a local beer - they were out of Bud. The jukebox plays a song he doesn't recognize and a couple laughs in the corner of the bar top.

That corner had housed the two of you all those years ago. Conversations about drunken college nights, holidays spent with friends instead of family while deployed, promises made that he'd broken only months later.

His collection of beer bottle caps is turning into a small mountain in front of him. Until the bartender is tapping the wood in front of him. "Last one, pal."

Green eyes groggily flip up to meet his, brows furrowing. "Huh?"

"You've had enough for the night, man." The bartender slides his receipt toward him, the pen alongside it rolling off and onto the floor. The blonde sits up with annoyance.

"I'm fine, first off," Jake slides from the barstool to retrieve the pen off the floor - only to crack his head on the underside of the bar when he stands up, "fuck!"

The man from the corner comes to his side, "Are you alright? That looked like it hurt." When the stranger grabs his arm, Jake rights himself and shoves him back into a barstool.

"Don't touch me." He spits. The stranger holds up his hands to show he's backing off.

"You need a ride." The bartender is pulling his phone from his pocket, Jake shakes his head.

"No, no I'm-" a hiccup breaks his train of thought. The sum of the bill catches his eye and he groans, dropping his initials onto the paper.

"I'll just order you an Uber, where you going?"

"I said no, I can drive." The barkeep nearly gives Jake the stink eye now. As the blonde fumbles his way to the front door, he nearly eats it at the front stoop. He manages to find his way to his truck - a rental no less - he pauses at the sight of an old Jeep Liberty.

The last time he was in Annapolis, he'd bought a cheap one exactly like it off of Facebook Marketplace. He'd needed a way to get around, and considering how often he bounced around, there was no need to buy anything worthwhile.

That same Jeep that you'd refused to get into the passenger seat of one night. You were leaving a friend's Thanksgiving. He'd had too much to drink. You begged him to let you drive, seeing that you were sober - he wouldn't have any of it.

He'd left you in the driveway of your friend's place along the water, snow and all. Annapolis police had him in their custody not even twenty minutes later. Jake had friends in the navy ranks in Maryland, that had helped him avoid a dishonorable discharge at the time - he no longer had those friends.

He also no longer had you.

Jake makes sure his rental is locked before he starts down the road in the direction of the naval base.

His steps are uneasy, a bit sporadic as he walks aimlessly in one direction. A film reel serves as his entertainment for his walk back. Scenes from two years of love, a whole six months of downward spiral toward heartbreak. Total, gut-wrenching and life wrecking heartache. Self-inflicted he now realizes.

The breakup was sharp. His things were packed up. Put into the Liberty. You'd taken your key back, deleted your number from his phone and told him to forget you even lived on the same continent. He'd promised you'd never hear from him.

Jake looks up after a cold round drop plops onto his head. Followed by another. His feet stop walking as he stares up at the rain beginning to fall, the street lamps serving as a backdrop as the downpour begins. He stands there. Watching the rain. His head drops to meet the river running under him, the bridge he stands on giving a viewing point as the speed picks up.

A car slows to a stop just behind him. The headlights make him squint, slowly moving a hand up to block the LEDs that blind him.

"It's a bit wet out here, don't you think?" A voice calls from the side of the vehicle, the door shutting in tandem to another on the symmetrical side of the car.

"Rain'll do that." He snidely retorts, leaning into the jersey barrier along the bridge.

"You think you might wanna find a dry place to settle in? It's getting late, afterall." A second voice consoles him, and Jake realizes why the lights are so damn bright. He'd recognize the striping of the Anapolis police anywhere.

"Ah, I'm-" Another hiccup, "I'm trying to." An older male comes in the rain, graying facial hair, a well trimmed beard as he approaches.

"You look a little lost there, boy."

If only this damn officer knew the half of it.

Neither of them mention his slow reaction times. Or reveal that they'd received a tip from a rather concerned bartender. Instead, they carefully guide him to the backseat of the cruiser. No handcuffs are involved, no harsh words spoken, not a single arrest made.

That doesn't stop Jake from reciting your name, your address and phone number.

Anapolis' police station is dated. The linoleum is scuffed and worn - a creamier brown than he remembers.

"You.. wanna call somebody to come get you, son?"

"I've got- I'll just call her. She'll come." When he pulls his phone from his pocket it's either too cold, too wet, or too dead - or some combination of the three.

The officer with the mustache that matched that of an old friend's hands him two dollars in change, pointing him in the direction of the payphones.

Nine digits. He's got them memorized, though he swore he would forget them.

One ring. Two rings. Four.

Finally- "Hello?"

Your name leaves his lips like a prayer.

The end tone sounds like a gunshot.

Another pair of quarters.

Dial tone. Ring three. Ring four. Voicemail.

Two dollars gone.

"Alright, kid, lets get you sat down for a minute." Jake firms up like an oak tree when the officer grabs his shoulder.

"Hold on, just- I need a charger. Something- she'll call. You've got more change? Just a quarter-" He turns to a nearby woman, desperately leaning toward her, his balance wavering enough that the cop comes to his shoulder again to keep him upright.

"Have you had much to drink tonight, son?"

"I- Didn't- she's gonna call." He mumbles as the officer slowly guides him to a seat. Green eyes look up at the older man and then to the tinted window at the end of the corridor.

"Hate to tell you this... but I don't think she will."

Jake shoots up again, almost falling on his ass.

"She will- I- let me call her again- just one more time-"

The officer resists Jake and his sluggish effort to move back to the phones, finally gripping onto the pilot.

"Sit. I'm gonna get you some water and we-"

"Fuck that. Sir. I just need to get her on the phone- she's not far she-" His words begin on a carousel. Coming back again and again, repeating in the same pattern.

The plastic cup of water in his hands grows warm as he sits in the station. Two officers talk among themselves as they keep an eye on him, mentioning your name. Your address.

The phone number you refuse to use if he is on the other end of the line.

And he waits.