#y’all been itching for this huh

[generallysapphic]

okay lemme find a good part hehehe

[gutsby]

Grow a Uterus and We'll Talk

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Summary: Daryl has a bad case of baby fever, to put it lightly. You’re practically terrified of children. Rick lends you his kid for the night, and together, you come to learn that parenthood might not be the worst thing in the world. Even easier than baking muffins, one might say.

Warnings: Fluff, fluff, fluff, an absurd amount of baby rabies, and fluff. Don’t blame me if y’all get pregnant.

“You lay one finger on me and I’ll bite it off, Dixon.”

You’d done the same damn dance once a month, every month for the past two years, and you were starting to grow annoyed with your boyfriend’s advances.

“Would it really be tha’ bad if we tried it out…just once?” Daryl huffed.

“I don’t know,” you answered, shrugging, “Grow a uterus and we’ll talk.”

The archer playfully lunged at you from across the couch, but you easily side-stepped and took residence at the far end of the room. You reached for a stiletto to throw at his head if he came any closer.

“Still on the baby business, huh?” Carol called as she strode past the living room toward the kitchen.

“Ya know we’d make some damn cute crotch goblins,” Daryl yelled back. You rolled your eyes.

“That isn’t for you to decide, Daryl,” Carol’s voice seemed to toughen, even give him a scolding look from a distance away, “And if you knock her up before she’s ready, I’ll string you up by your balls and feed you to the walkers.”

The woman did not fuck around—and you loved her for it. Presently, you stuck your tongue out at Daryl as if to say, ‘See? I told you so’ and the man simply scowled. Flopped down on the couch and propped his dirty boots up on the coffee table.

“‘Course I wouldn’t try if ye weren’t ready,” he grumbled, “Jus’ wanted you ta consider it.”

You joined him on the couch and nudged his feet off the table.

“Is that why you’ve been parading every baby in Alexandria in my face for the past six months? Hoping I’d ‘consider’ things a little more?” you quipped, raising both eyebrows.

Daryl paused a beat, seemed to chew on his thoughts for a moment or two. Then he offered you a sheepish grin and said,

“Rick and Michonne really need the free childcare.”

You were itching to grab that high heel again. Before you could, though, a sound thundered through your foyer and the front door was thrown open wide. In the blink of an eye, Rick had stumbled through your entryway, passed off his infant to Daryl like a sack of potatoes, and raced back to the door.

“Rick, what the fuck?!” you shouted before he could escape.

“Date night,” Rick answered in a ragged breath, gripping the door frame while he glanced over at Daryl.

Daryl smiled and held Judith to his chest like she might’ve been the most precious thing in the universe. You narrowed your eyes.

“He put you up to this?” you asked, tipping your chin in Daryl’s direction.

Rick didn’t hesitate; he said that he had. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Daryl shooting daggers at his friend. Promptly, Judith pawed at your boyfriend’s stubbled cheeks and babbled.

Sensing the tension in the air, Carol gathered her belongings and contemplated baking her bread elsewhere—or at least give you and Daryl some space to talk. She started toward the door,

“Walk a lady home?” she said to Rick.

Rick shot her a curious look but accepted anyway. Casting a sidelong glance to the man on the couch and the woman who was currently staring him down with an irate look in her eyes—you—he quickly surmised it was in his best interest to leave. Hopefully Judith was too young to catch on to any curse words that might be hurled in the next several minutes.

“Be good, you three,” Rick gave his parting words before following Carol outside. The door crashed shut behind them.

As soon as it had, you were back on your feet and traipsing out of the room.

“Come on,” Daryl whined.

He followed your steps into the kitchen with Judith still cradled in his arms. There was a pregnant pause as you rifled through your cabinets, wordlessly searching for some ingredients to bake whatever pastry it would take to get your mind off the discomfiture of this situation—you decided on muffins, at length.

It wasn’t like you hated babies. You loved their big bald heads and their pudgy, wobbling legs. You loved the way they giggled and smiled and dribbled food all over their fronts. You didn’t even mind the thought of pregnancy; carrying a pint-sized redneck in your belly for nine months wouldn’t be the worst thing that could happen. 

It was the world that frightened you most. The thought of a newborn child’s slim chances at surviving a place like this. The fear of that alone was enough to have you fighting that dreadful outcome, tracking your cycle like a hound and fighting Daryl off every month when you knew that day was coming. You’d been pretty successful thus far. But by the looks of the man across the kitchen beaming down at the baby, you weren’t sure how long that winning streak would last.

“Wanna hold her?”

“No.”

“Wanna do her hair?”

“She hasn’t got any.”

Daryl shot you a look of mock indignation and stroked Judith’s head.

“You kiddin’? Little Ass Kicker’s gotta have at least fifteen strands by now,” he retorted, tugging at the short blond tufts as if to prove a point.

Judith smiled a toothless grin up at her Uncle Daryl. You all but had to leave the room to stifle the sounds of your reproductive organs screaming, 'Give that man a baby! NOW!' You clenched your stomach and turned away to start preparing the pans.

Daryl perched Judith on his lap and starting puffing out his cheeks. The infant shrieked with laughter. You assembled the flour, sugar, baking powder and salt together on the counter and sought after a bowl.

“Dada, Dada!” Judith chanted. Trying in earnest to say ‘Daryl’ but ending up sounding like she was calling him dad. You dropped the mixing bowl on the countertop with a clatter.

“Daryl, kiddo, Dar-yl,” your boyfriend tried to teach her, enunciating his name a couple more times.

“Dada!” the little tyke howled again as she fisted his shirt in her fingers.

Milk and oil and— eggs. Where are the eggs?

You tore through the fridge and wanted to sob into the shelves with the sheer force of delirium coursing through your veins. Damn you, Charles Darwin, I am not in a place to be procreating right now.

You tried turning your mind to other things—cooking, crying, contemplating the course of human evolution—but when you turned back with the carton of eggs in hand, you almost sent the dozen of them crashing straight to the floor.

Daryl was pinching her chubby cheeks.

If you weren’t so violently inclined to breed a whole new gaggle of progeny with this man, you probably would’ve chucked an egg at his head.

You sighed as you dropped the last of your cooking supplies on the surface of the kitchen island. You planted your hands flat on the granite and stared shamelessly at the two of them. Daryl was feigning ignorance, tapping Judith’s tiny pink nose with the tip of his finger and watching her giggle. When he leaned down to kiss the top of her head, you spun around to kick the oven door shut and cut the appliance off, immediately.

“Alright, you win, you bastard,” you said in a huff.

Daryl looked up from his present occupation, eyeing you innocently.

“What do you mean, hon—”

You cut him short, raising a finger to halt his speech before starting toward the door.

“Shut up,” you muttered as you headed for the stairs, “Meet me up there in five.”

Daryl deposited Judith in her portable playard in a second’s time and went scrambling up those steps faster than he ever had before. 

Silently, speedily, he thanked every one of his lucky stars and his best friend, Rick Grimes.

[diamond-champagne]

5. I Need You

Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd

warnings: none but let me know!

feedback is always welcome, besties <3

Enjoy!!

December 2023

The UConn Women’s Basketball Team is celebrating at Ted’s on Thursday. The team is going into their Holiday break on a winning streak. Final exams are finally over. That and the overall giddiness from the holidays makes the team extra cheerful. The alcohol is flowing steadily and their table is buzzing with laughter.

Azzi is sitting at their shared table with her arm around Riley. The two are engaging in a conversation with Nika about Christmas movies when Aubrey yells “Y’all look at PB blushing like a schoolgirl”. The group immediately turns their attention to the blonde whose attention is currently being occupied by a man. He’s got a few inches on the basketball player, standing at a full 6’6. The man in question has caramel skin and Azzi can tell that he has at least half a sleeve on his right arm.

The group watches them interact. It’s obvious from his body language that he’s talking loudly so that Paige will hear him over the music playing. Whatever he says must be funny because the girl tosses her head back in laughter. It also must be complementary because she blushes harder. A smile graced her lips. Azzi can tell that she isn’t sure how to accept whatever compliments he’s dishing her.

It doesn’t matter though because he’s still talking to Paige. The mystery man is in the middle of doing said talking when he reaches for the basketball player’s waist. He pulls her closer so he can lean down to talk in her ear and she let’s him.

The two are completely unaware that they have an audience until they are about to part ways. Azzi watches them switch phones to seemingly exchange phone numbers when she catches Paige’s eyes. Her eyes widen and she blushes some more before scurrying back to the table with the rest of the group. She’s greeted with whoops, praise, and many variations of “Get it, Paige” before she sits down.

“Paige Madison, who was that?” Ice asked.

“His name is Cam. He’s on the football team.” Paige smiles.

“And what did this Cam say to have you smiling like that?” KK asks excitedly.

The blonde shrugs, trying to be nonchalant. The smile itching its way on her face betrays her. “He just called me pretty. I don’t know! He’s just nice.”

Azzi decides then that doesn’t like Cam. She doesn’t like his tattoos or that he plays football. She also thinks his name is stupid.

More importantly, Azzi doesn’t like he talked to Paige more in a 10 minute conversation that they have in weeks. She doesn’t like he pulled the older girl closer to him in a bar full of people. Azzi hates that Paige seemed to enjoy it because there was a time that she was pulling Paige closer in a bar full of people. Azzi hasn’t done that in a very long time.

That thought angers Azzi. She’s angry at herself for letting them get this messy. She’s angry at Paige for not fighting harder. She’s angry at Cam for doing all the things she couldn’t; all the things she wouldn’t.

It’s the anger that fuels her next comment.

“So it’s that easy, huh, Paige? We just have to call you pretty?”

The entire group, including Riley, looks at Azzi in shock. She doesn’t care about that, though. She cares about the look that Paige gives her. It’s a combination of shock, hurt, and embarrassment.

She just humiliated her best friend in front of everyone.

The worst part is that Paige doesn’t even argue back with her. She just looks down at her fingers and remains silent.

Azzi starts to apologize but before she can, Riley is pulling her out of the bar. The volleyball player only stops tugging her arm when they are alone, standing in a secluded section of the parking lot.

“What. The. Fuck. Was. That?” Azzi flinches unintentionally. She’s never seen the other so upset. The brown-eyed girl opens her mouth to speak but stops immediately as the other has raised her hand to communicate that she isn’t done.

“You’ve been off for fucking weeks. At first I thought I was crazy but then I saw how you reacted when Paige invited Blaire to Aubrey’s house.” Riley scoffed but then continued. “I knew you had feelings for her. I should’ve known better.”

Azzi immediately begins to apologize, “I’m so sorry-”. Riley doesn’t want to hear it. “You’re an asshole; and not just to me. What you said in there was fucking disgusting. Paige didn’t deserve that.”

The basketball player nods in agreement and understanding. She doesn’t trust herself to speak anymore. She doesn’t even know what she would say.

“I know, bu-” Riley cuts her off again. “You clearly don’t know, Azzi, because judging by the face Paige made, this isn’t the first time you’ve hurt her either.”

Azzi doesn’t know what to say, so she says nothing and watches as the volleyball player turns to leave. The basketball player turns to walk back inside Ted’s hoping that she gets the opportunity to apologize to her best friend.

That hope quickly deflates when she realizes that Paige isn’t there.

“Where did she go?” She asked desperately.

“She left.” KK answers. Azzi doesn't miss the glare that the freshman throws her way.

“Where did she go?”

“Azzi, maybe that’s not a good idea.” Caroline states carefully.

“Where did she go?” Azzi frustratedly repeats. Her patience is wearing thin. She needs to see Paige because for the first time since she’s known her, Azzi feels their friendship slipping away. Azzi knows that their friendship had changed; but she never thought that there would be a day when it was over. That can’t happen. Azzi needs Paige.

“She went home.” KK says suddenly. Her confession elicits looks from her teammates. Azzi assumes that they weren’t supposed to say anything. She doesn't care though because she’s leaving Ted’s before anyone can tell her otherwise.

-

Paige watches as Riley drags Azzi out the bar; waiting until they are completely out of sight before getting up to leave. The blonde-haired girl can feel her eyes fill with tears and quickly blinds rapidly to keep them at bay.

“Hey, I’m gonna head out.” Paige announces before getting up from her seat. There’s a chorus of protest from her teammates but all she wants to do is get home; preferably before she starts sobbing in the bar.

“Paige,” Carol starts. “Be careful.” Paige nods and leaves the bar.

She makes it all the way home and through the door before she breaks down. Paige doesn’t make it to her room; instead, she slides down her front door to sit on the floor. The blonde-haired girl sobs harder than she has in a while. Her body shakes, her nose is runny, and her head hurts. She sits there for a minute and while she is still crying, she is calm enough to get off the floor. Paige makes her way into the bathroom with tears down her face to get into the shower. She cries as she takes off her makeup and gets into the shower. She cries as she gets dressed in her pajamas. She cries as she sits on the couch, curled up in a blanket.

Paige is angry. She’s angry at herself for loving Azzi. She’s angry at Azzi for doing this to them.

She’s also tired.

Paige is tired of being angry. Paige is done.

-

The sight of Paige after she opens the door breaks Azzi’s heart. Her blue eyes are swollen and tear filled and her nose is red and runny. It strikes something deep within her to see the older girl so upset. Azzi isn’t even sure how to fix the mess she’s made.

“Can I come in?” Azzi asked softly. She watches as Paige wordlessly steps to the side to welcome her into her space. Paige shuts the door before moving into the kitchen to get a glass of water. The blonde-haired girl then grabs some Advil to ease her headache. She takes her medicine while Azzi starts the conversation.

“I’m sorry” Azzi whispers.

“For what?” Paige asks as she sits her glass on the counter. The younger girl immediately crosses the kitchen to invade the older’s space. She reaches for the blonde to pull her into a hug when Paige flinches away from her touch. Azzi’s eyes fill with tears as a result. Paige doesn’t want Azzi to touch her.

“Paige, please!” Azzi cries.

“What are you apologizing for, Az?” Paige asks. She’s not crying anymore but her voice is thick with emotion and her body drags.

“For what I said at Ted’s” The younger girl starts. “I got jealous seeing you with that guy and I got-.” she tries to explain before she gets interrupted. “You don’t get to be jealous.” Paige sneers. “Not when you have a girlfriend, not when you left me in the morning to see her, and certainly not after you left my apartment when I asked if you had feelings for me!” The blonde-haired girl spat.

“I know I messed up but I’m sorry, Paige.” Azzi pleads. Tears flow freely down her cheeks as she thinks of what she can say to fix this.

“You’re sorry for Ted’s?” The older girl questioned. Azzi shook her head in agreement.

“Fine. I forgive you. Now, leave.” Paige demanded.

“N-No” Azzi stutters out. “We need to talk about this!”

“Talk about what, Azzi?” Paige exclaimed. “Should we talk about how you don’t want me but clearly don't want anyone else to have me? or Should we talk about Riley? Or we can talk about-”

“Fuck, Paige! I said I’m fucking sorry!” Azzi exclaims while flailing her hands. In her movement, she knocks the glass off of the counter.

The glass shatters. Its contents, water and ice, leave a mess on the floor. Paige immediately drops to start picking up the broken glass. All of the energy she once had, gone. Azzi doesn’t miss a beat in helping her.

“I'm sorry.” Azzi speaks softly. Paige can only sigh as a response. She feels like she’s been here before too many times.

“Stop apologizing.” Paige grunts out. “If I apologize to this glass, it’ll still be broken. It won’t fix anything. You apologizing won’t fix anything. I’ll still love you in the end. My heart will still break in the end. So, just stop.” Her defeated tone shatters Azzi from the inside out.

“Paige-” Azzi starts before Paige cuts her off. “Just go.” the blonde says.

This time, Azzi listens.

PREVIOUS | NEXT

[dance-to-mythoughts-blog]

HERE WE GO AGAIN: BAKUGO X BLACK FEM! CHUBBY READER

Alright, children. Since it was voted on here you go. Y'all love our spicy Pomeranian man huh? lol.

Warnings: dick in pussy, praise, degrading, facials, squirting, nut swallowing, doggystyle, nipple play, fingering under the table.

ALL CHARACTERS ARE AGED UP TO ADULTS.

It was Friday and you were sitting in your apartment. It was peaceful until your roommate, Mina, came home from class.

“Hey Y/N! What are you doing later tonight?” she asked.

“Nothing that I know of hoe, why? Wassup?”

“Well, the boys invited us to go to this party tonight. I didn’t wanna go by myself so I wanted to know if you were down?” She looked at you as if you couldn’t deny her.

“The boys? What boys invited you, sis? And by boys you mean your boyfriend Kiri?”

She looked shocked “He is not my boyfriend… yet. Anyway, hoe, he said they guys are having some kind of dinner party that turns into a party tonight. Figured we could go shopping.”

“Hmmmm… I don’t know. Who all gone be there out of this little circle?”

“Everybody. And that includes explosion boy.”

You can not stand that motherfucker. Since you guys were kids, he was always a thorn in your ass. An itch that just couldn’t be scratched. You and the Bakugo Katsuki had been going at it for years. It came to a point when everyone thought you had feelings for one another and y'all were playing. You both were very competitive. You both took game night to a whole other level.

“Mina...” you said in a warning tone “Why do I wanna go somewhere with that nigga? All he’s going to do is fucking cry and whine and complain about EVERY. FUCKING. THING. You wanna hear him complain for hours about how the chicken didn’t have any seasonings?”

She looked at you because she knew you were right. The friend circle that you guys had, y’all were very close. You guys knew each other like the back of your hand. But it was always funny because everyone knew each other’s buttons. So, from time to time, you guys would push these buttons and get a kick out of shit. So, you thought long and hard about going to this event. You missed your friends, except that blonde-haired loud bastard, and wanted to see them.

“You know what Mina? Fuck it. I’ll go. Let’s go shopping. It’s only 8:30 AM. So, I have plenty of time to get an outfit and do hair, nails, and makeup. What time is the event?”

“Dinner is at 7:30 PM and the party starts at 8:30 PM. But knowing the boys, it probably starts at 9 lol.”

“Fine. Get your shit and let’s go! We’re so taking your car today Mina” Y/N said.

“Why? We always take your car. Since it’s better than mine.”

“Indeed, it is. But you convinced me to go to this shit at the last minute and then you want me to drive us shopping? And I’m assuming you want me to do your nails too? Correct?”

She looked at you with a knowing smirk. “Exactly. The least you can do here is drive us around. We gotta hit our favorite store! They have all the good shit.”

“You know it!” she sang as she grabbed her keys and headed out the door.

______________________________________________________________

We pulled up at the mall. Surprisingly it was not packed at all. You both hit several stores. The final store that you guys went to was where you found the dress of your dreams. It was a beautiful yellow dress that you bought instantly. You bought a pair of clear heels to go along with it.

“Mina. LOOK!” She turned around and was blinded by the beauty of the yellow dress. Just holding this yellow dress up to your skin complimented you beautifully. You knew you were turning heads at this event and Mina did too.

“Whew. Girl this dress is going to get your eggs scrambled and you broke in half.” She laughed.

You laughed right along with her because you knew it was true. It has been a minute since you had some dick, and you could use a man’s touch. Wouldn’t hurt at all.  “You’re right. I will surely be eaten because I will be looking super good.”

As you guys put your bags in the trunk, Mina’s phone rang. She answered and of course, it was the guys calling to make sure we were still coming. Pretty sure this bitch told them I was coming even tho she didn’t ask me shit. She turned the car on and hooked her phone to CarPlay. Their loud voices blasted through the speakers.

“Are you guys coming or what? We got security and everything and this is gonna be a good time. Did you tell Y/N? Is she gonna come outside today?” Kirishima asked with a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

“Hey!! Fuck you, Kiri! I don’t abandon you asshole like Sero says.”

“Yes, you do!” Denki says in the background loud enough for you to hear. “Oi..tell her to shut up.” Bakugo says. As soon as you hear his voice you immediately start going off on him. Why not? It’s Bakugo. Fuck him and his sensitive ass.

“Is this Sero or Denki I’m talking to now?”

“Denki. Don’t mind Kacchan, he’s being an asshole. You know his usual self.”

“OI!! Shut it Pikachu. Before you get blasted to hell.”

Mina was so amazed. She is used to the shenanigans by now so she doesn’t give a fuck. She made that clear after the last game night we had.

______________________________________________________________

Flashback

You guys are sitting in the boys’ shared apartment. This time, in particular, Bakugo was streaming on Twitch. Out of you, Mina, Kiri, Sero, and Denki, Bakugo has the largest amount of followers on Twitch. During the game nights, one person streams while the others are in the party. That’s how that works. When one of you streams, you guys decide who is joining the party for the streaming broadcast. This game night in particular, again, Bakugo was streaming Call Of Duty. He was pretty good at it but not better than you. You streamed too but not as frequently as the others. Bakugo was the party leader, you, Sero, and Kiri joined his party for game night. You guys got Hella dubs(wins). Bakugo was jealous because you got more kills than he did. So that started an argument. You both were very competitive.

“OI. You stole my kill.” Bakugo cried.

“You were playing with your food. And I didn’t steal it. They gave it to you. That was a kill confirmed. You’re welcome assface.”

“Fuck you”

“You wish you could fuck somebody’s daughter. If you could fuck properly maybe you’d still be getting laid” you smirked. Knowing that that would push his fucking buttons. You had heard through the grapevine that he couldn’t satisfy his women. Since all he wanted to do was hook up. That shut his ass up from talking shit to you for the rest of the match for about 5 mins before it started up again. That shit went on for the rest of game night.

______________________________________________________________

“Dammit Mina. LOL. This nigga thinks I care about him telling me to shut up. Aww. My feelings are hurt. NOT.” You said sarcastically. Everyone took a deep sigh.  “Not this shit again. Can y’all chill the fuck out? Please” Sero asked. By the tone of his voice, he was begging you guys not to do that ghetto ass shit again.

“Fine.” You said defeated. “ I will see y’all tonight. But I’m gonna stop talking and let Mina take back over.” With that, you put your air pods in and listened to the music on your phone. By the time Mina was done with her conversation, you were annoyed that you even agreed to this shit to begin with and the fact that Bakugo just pissed you off. But you decided to get petty. You were gone show up to this event looking good as fuck because he called you ugly a while back.

____________________________________________________

When you and Mina got back home, it was around 3:30. You guys immediately went ahead and did your hair and nails. Mina decided on a bone-straight look. You decided that you wanted to do slight curls. You curled your hair, pinned the curls so they would set, and got started on your nails. You’ve already done your feet. You decided to do some Gel-X nails. You settled on an XS (extra short) white French tip to match your white toes. It did not take you long to do your nails. The time became later and later, and it was getting close to when you and Mina needed to get dressed. You took a shower and used some Jasmine-scented body wash. After you get out of the shower, you use your Jasmine-scented body oil, which you put on directly after your shower. Your dress was low cut, so you opted not to wear a bra for the event. You wanted everyone to see these beautiful brown titties of yours. You did your make-up. You opted for the 90s look and something a little more modern as well. With yellow eyeshadow that complemented your smooth silky skin beautifully, natural lash extensions, smelling like you came out of heaven, wearing a beautiful yellow dress that no one wouldn’t be able to resist you in. This dress was bright yellow. So bright that it put the sun to shame with how bright it was. The dress was form-fitting and it hugged you in all the right places. You and Mina finished getting ready around the same time. So, you went to her room to see if she was almost finished.

“Bitch. Are you almost done? Are we driving or are the boys supposed to come and get us?” you asked.

“They said they would. But seems like they might just send Bakugo to come get us.” She took a double take at how damn good you looked. “Fuck you look good girl! Look like a fucking goddess. Yellow dress suits you very well.”

“Why thank you! I love being praised sis” you laughed out loud. Mina was a bad bitch too. That’s why that man Kiri wanted her. We all knew it. “Good shit sis! You look damn good yourself. Ass poking, titties sitting right, smelling good. Kiri Is gonna have to fight to keep these dudes off you sis. Maybe you can get some dick from him since you’ve wanted it for so long.”  Y/N said. Mina looked at you confused.

“What do you mean I want Kiri?”

“Girl, we know you have been feeling for that man so bad. From the looks of it, man got a thing for you too.” Y/N smirked at her.

“So, Bakugo is coming to get us? Is that official or is it just something that was already decided, and no one told me?”

“Yes, Bakugo is our personal chauffeur. We better get our stuff because he will pull up any minute. You know this man is always punctual. Sure enough, here comes this blonde-haired nigga knocking on the door super aggressive. You open the door.

“Cocksucker! Stop banging on the door like you are a psycho.” You slightly yelled.

“Ahh put a sock in it… such a fucking B-“he started but was shook by your beauty. Lord. You looked so damn good. So good that the Bakugo Katsuki couldn’t stop staring at you.

“Like something you see pervert?” you asked smirking at him.

“Nothing at all. Brat. Get your shit and let's go. Come on Raccoon eyes. Move it!”

“don’t call her raccoon eyes you mutt.”

“I will call her what I want. Cunt”

“Ahhh. That’s the problem. You can't get any pussy, so you argue with women, Typical small-dick behavior. Hurry up and drive us to this thing”!

As soon as Bakugo was about to say something smart, here comes Mina.

“Always fucking arguing. Y’all are fucking annoying. Jesus. Let’s go”

____________________________________________________________

You guys arrive at the restaurant.

“Damn Y/N. you look good as fuck.” Denki told you. And you got approval from all the rest of the guys too. “Mina. You look good as fuck too. Good enough to eat.” Kirishima stated as he was looking Mina up and down.

“Get a fucking room,” Bakugo said with his usual scowl on his face.

“Maybe if you weren’t such a prick, somebody would take yo bitch ass to a room.” You said that completely pissed him off. And you didn’t give one fuck about him being upset. The rest of the friend circle laughed.

“she’s right Bakubro. When was the last time you had some pussy? Cami? Tonya?” Sero asked. Bakugo looked so fucking annoying that he was getting roasted. Damn. He knew it had been a minute and he was sick of your shit.

“You are such a pain in the ass Y/N. You know that? Just goofy as fuck” Bakugo yelled at you. You started to look at him differently because he looked good.

“Fuck You Katsuki. Such a damn crybaby. You have always been a thorn in my side. Always complain. Being a weird bitch.” You spoke. That pushed him over the limit. He decided that he has enough of your shit. As soon as he was about to say something, the waitress greeted everyone, and it was time for everyone to go to the table. As usual, you just got into it with Bakugo and now you have to sit next to him. Mina sat next to Kirishima, Denki, Sero, you, and Bakugo at the end. As the waitress came around and you guys ordered your food, Bakugo decided to be bold and lean over and whisper in your ear.

“You are such a fucking brat. I hate you so much. I mean that shit. Such a fucking thorn in my ass. But I can't lie. You look good as fuck In this dress. What were you thinkin? Oi… I’ll make him jealous? To piss him off? Well, you got it. I’m fucking pissed.  Especially since you said I couldn’t get no pussy.” Bakugo said. He had never spoken to you in this manner, and it had you all hot and bothered. In a good way. You turned to look at him and he was dead ass serious. He looked good and smelt good too. He had a nice jawline, beautiful red eyes, eyebrow piercing, and an undercut that you could see. He smelt like musk and burnt sugar and it smelled so fucking good. Intoxicating if you will.

“Man fuck you. Still a crybaby. You like to be an ass. So, fuck you. Someone’s daughter is staring at you, and it isn’t me”

Bakugo took that as a challenge. Shortly after that, your drinks came and the waitress was going around to take orders. She started with Mina since Mina was sitting at the end. You felt Bakugo’s hand on your knee. But you ignored him. He then slowly decided to massage your knee and slide up to your leg. He inched slower and slower into your panties. He leaned over and whispered in your ear.

“Such a fucking slut. You not even wearing panties. You look good. Let us see if you feel good too.”

Bakugo slides his hand up your dress and started to rub slow circles on your clit. It felt so fucking good but you were still in public and at the dinner table with everyone. Thankfully, no one was paying attention because everyone decided that they were doing their own thing.

“You…are such a fucking cunt. Lord” you whisper yelled. But you couldn’t deny that he had you feeling so fucking good. You couldn’t believe that Bakugo was making you feel good as fuck like this. Like this nigga knows what the fuck he is doing. “But you feel sooo good Katsuki. I mean shit that feels good. Gonna cum if you keep it up.” You moaned but kept it to a whisper that only the both of you could hear. The waitress came back with the drink and started to take food orders. As the waitress was starting to take orders and come around the table, Bakugo decided it would be amazing and he would stick his finger in your pussy. In and out his one finger went and it was so good.

“Fuck you tight as fuck. So wet fa me. We’re in public baby and I hadn't even touched you yet. Fucking needy. Be good and tell her your order because she’s coming.”

And sure enough. She got to you and it was a struggle to talk because it felt good.

“I’ll take the jerk chick with rice and peas, and double cabbage. Thanks” You said in one breath. She understood but everyone at the table was confused and wondered what was up.

“You ok Y/N?” Sero asked.

“Yeah. I’m ok.” Bakugo kept fingering you under the table and then you eventually came. Soon as he finished fingering you, the food came and he decided to lick his one finger that was all cozy in your cunt.

__________________________________________________

The dinner party was over and you and Bakugo had ended up riding together because everyone wanted to go their separate ways. As you and Bakugo entered your apartment, Bakugo’s lips were on yours. His kiss was soft and needy. He hugged you and kissed you in all the right places. His kiss became needier and needier, and he grabbed your ass to the point where your cheeks spread open and gave it a nice smack. Who would’ve thought that you would be getting ready to fuck Bakugo? Not Me.

“Katsuki, take this shit off please” you practically begged him. You were so horn that it fucking hurt. He started to undress you and you could not take it anymore. You got down on your knees, pulled his boxers down and his dick sprang out. It was long, thick, and had a pretty little vein that was at the top and his tip, swollen and leaking with precum waiting to be milked.

“Fuck!” you said as you immediately went to heart eyes. You grabbed his dick and shoved it in your mouth going antagonizing slow. You bobbed your head up and down showing major love to the tip. That’s where you focus all of your energy. “Fuck, princess. That feels good” he said as you slurped him up like a slushie. You knew he was getting close because of the way that he was cussing and grinding.

“Fuck Y/N. Imma cum…..Shit” Bakugo groaned and shortly after he nutted in your mouth. You were so happy that you had him nut in your mouth that you decided to swallow. After you swallowed, you went back and sucked the dick some more until he couldn’t take this shit anymore.

“Fuck. I'm gonna ruin you. Fine chocolate ass. Wearing this tight-ass dress for me and only me. Fuck. Bend over this couch now.” He demanded. It was so sexy to see him take charge that it made your pussy even wetter than before. You bent over as he said.

“Fuck.. so wet f’me. Thought u were wet at the restaurant. This is like I put my hand in the water. AMAZING” Bakugo moaned just at touching this pussy. He didn’t even have time to prep you for the dick. He inserted himself and he was slowly inching in. As soon as he was fully in to bottom out, he started to ram into you.

“Fuck kkkaaattsuki…yes that feels so good baby. Keep it going “you moaned at the feeling of his dick plaster away into your pussy.

“you like that? You like when daddy fucks you like a good little slut?”

Fuck yess. I-uh fuck”

“Yeah. You’re doing such a good job f’me. Take this dick baby” he groaned.

“Katsuki.. I’m coming” you screamed. “Fuck yes Daddy it feels so good.”

“Where u want that nut baby?” he asked as he sped up his pace to go insanely jak rabbit.

“I want it on my face baby” you moaned. “Fuck Katsuki, cum on my face day”

“Such a nasty filthy slut for daddy. I'm bout to come on that beautiful face of your brat” He praised. He pulled out and nutted all over your face.

Katsuki looked at you and decided that you were going to be his woman forever and a day. After all, you both knew each other like the back of your hands, and he’d seen you covered all in his nut. What else could you ask for from a spouse?

“I love you. Would you be my girlfriend” he asked. This was the first time you had ever seen him in a soft era.

“Yes” as you went to cuddle next to him and give him a soft kiss on the nose. “ I will be your girlfriend”

Alright guys!/ I hope you liked it. This is what was voted on the last 2 polls so I hope I delivered. Please like and reblog! I think I might do a tag list. comments and let me know if you want to do a tag list.

[aheathen-conceivably]

1, 10, 12, and 25! - lgl

LGL always a joy in the inbox 😊

1. What’s the last screenshot you’ve taken for your story?

Trying to get them spoilers here, huh? 😜

The last screen I took was actually while testing some pose edits. It is a blessed photo, so please enjoy (and speculate)…

10. Is your story fully planned or are you still working things out? is there a definitive end?

Kind of, definitely, and yes.

More specifically, I have a number of specific details planned out. I always like to ramble about how it’s like scaffolding being built toward the sky. The higher you go the less the structure is there, and you can see all the cracks and still need to figure out how to actually get to the next solid point, which is where the inspiration and flexibility comes in. But overall, yes, I have the final scene of the story written. Imma need a whole ass team if I’m ever gunna get there at this rate though 😅

12. Do you actually play the game or do you just use it as a storytelling medium?

Specifically in the Darlington save? Probably like 20/80 at this point. I play between story shoots to kind of mimic the arcs, so it’s more me just imitating my own story in gameplay vs. actually playing the game and letting it influence my writing at all.

25. What inspirations have you drawn on for your story?

Goodness, gracious. Everything? If that’s a fair answer? 😅

Movies I love, books I read, history I’ve studied, songs that hit, fellow storytellers, tropes that make my brain itch, personal experiences, the color of the sky sometimes, a single word my husband says. Honestly? Fun times out here when you’ve got the Darlington brain rot.

To narrow it down I think that the 1890s/1900s were more inspired by my own aesthetics and decades challenges in general, and things got a little more personal around 1910 (which is why I usually tell people that’s when I start to really like the story). Those years were heavily inspired by Downton Abbey and Titanic (of course). And as broad stroke inspiration, I’m sure y’all know I’m fond of the “it glitters so brightly you don’t even see the tragedy until it’s too late” vibes that Titanic has (cue my other favorite films Cabaret and Moulin Rouge).

The 20s are inspired by New Orleans, I cannot state it enough. By everything I felt in my years there and everything I learned during my MA. More specifically, it was heavily drawn from Mister Jelly Roll and Empire of Sin. We also have some Gatsby in there, of course 😉

Now in the 30s I’m really having a blast, because I feel like I’m pulling inspiration for all the previous decades (Gatsby references coming when?) as well as hinting toward future ones (a certain littlest heiress and her obsession with the Wizard of Oz comes to mind). Combined with that is so much rich inspiration for this decade itself, coming heavily from Route 66: A Cultural History and The Grapes of Wrath specifically , as well as broader ideas of Americana, country and blues music, and the symbolism/beauty of the desert.

This decade has also really made me realize just how much inspiration I draw from place, and how it not only influences my style of descriptive writing (which in and of itself is inspired by Anne Rice), but also makes me so interested in how a location and its history influences people and the path of the story. I feel like it grounds me not just in a time period, but how that time period may have been different in specific locations and how different characters react to those factors.

[tyunkus]

this might be a bit cliche ..but thinkin about how all of them need to jerk off before each show which is one thought in itself except taehyun needs to make someone else cum before every show. so all the makeup nd hair artists have this lil competition between them that he doesn’t know about.

like who got the most orgasms this month? who got caught by another member? what technique did he use on you this time? and when he finds out about it…he just loves it. that y’all are talking about him, making it a lil competition.

so he decides to get in on the fun and he keeps track of how fast he’s made each of you cum. he knows who takes a bit longer, who cums rly quick. and he tries to make it a competition with himself. like the shortest he’s needed to make someone cum is three minutes, twenty two seconds and he tries to beat that every time.

so one day he picks you and, of course, you’re aware of this record and he puts a stopwatch on in a place you can see and you’re trying your best to beat that record so you can rub it in all the other makeup and hair artists’ faces. but he just feels so good that you kinda don’t want it to end.

i’ve always had this lil idea and have always wanted to turn it into a full fic but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ maybe i will someday

HAKJSHDSJDHS!!!!! taehyun who gets off on pleasuring u is so real. something about watching his partner squirm n listening to their pretty gasps and moans, knowing they're all for him, because of him just turns him on so much fuck!!!!! somewhere somehow during his career hes made it a habit to make someone cum before concerts n the itch to make someone feel good always quadruples before he performs.. & to be honest hes always had his eye on you - youre sweet, fun to talk to, always cracking jokes and to be honest for the past month while you fuss over his hair his gaze has been fixed upon you in the mirror and hes just been thinking about how you would look falling apart on his tongue.

and well with the whole "competition" going on, he supposes now is the best time to get his hands on you! just imagine!! you're leaning back against the wall in one of the empty changing rooms backstage, hips lifted n chasing the warmth of taehyuns tongue!!!! taehyun kissing your clit while he runs his hands over the swell of ur ass and rubs circles into your hips with his thumbs! taehyuns tongue dipping in ur folds all warm n soft before flattening out against u, he wants to taste all of u!!!! n then eventually he'll get u so wet that he just dips a finger into you, then two, pumping steadily, moaning so hot against ur cunt - he pulls away after a while then rises wobbily to his feet, fingers still buried in you, but hes using his other hand to prop your hips against him so he can fuck into you deeper. "sorry, baby," he murmurs against your ear. "can't come on my face, as much as i want you to. can't put all your hard work to waste, huh? 's okay. i'll just make you come on my fingers, okay?" and you just nod at him, too fucked out to respond or even remember that hes technically supposed to be getting you off as quickly as possible - what he doesnt tell you is that hes slowly getting addicted to all your moans and reactions and expressions, so don't be surprised if he tries to drag it out a little !!!!!

[sevendeadlywhispers]

7Seals

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Chapter 17

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•Previous Chapter: Chapter Sixteen

•Next Chapter: Chapter Eighteen

•Chapter List

•New chapters every Thursday

•Content: Levi Ackerman × OC female. Slow Burn! Canon verse!

•Word Count: 1.3k

•Warning: This content may not be suitable for all readers. If you've watched all of AOT then you will understand that the show handles heavy subjects such as abuse, racism, violence, and other heavy subjects. This fanfiction will also have the same heavy themes. Chapters with heavy themes will be marked with (*) at each chapter.

A/N: Hey y’all ♡

I’m having horrible writers block. Some pieces aren’t fitting the way I wanted to so I can only do one chapter this week. I’ve decided that one Thursday every month I won’t post unless I’m itching to. My goal for that is to make sure I don’t catch up to my chapters I haven’t posted yet so I have something for y’all to read when I get stuck. Hopefully I get some creative juices in me soon cause there’s so much I have to still write about. I’m so excited for the third seal🫶🏼

Also! Shoutout to all y’all who binged the story recently. I loved seeing each part you were all at! It really helped me write some stuff for the current chapter I’m on. Love y’all’s support!!!!

(3-20-24)

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Levi's Perspective

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"Captain Levi"

I narrowed my eyes at the sight of him—the man I despised more than any other. His once proud stature had been reduced to that of a broken man, shackled by his own demons and the weight of his crimes.

I met his gaze with a steely glare, his eyes held a feral intensity, worse from the last time I saw him.

"Alexander," I replied icily, keeping my tone devoid of emotion. His smile widened, revealing a row of yellowed teeth.

"What brings you here?" he asked, his voice dripping with malice.

"I was in town," I replied curtly. "Wanted to see how desperate and disgusting you looked after all these years."

His laughter echoed off the walls of the cell, a hollow sound that mixed together with the clinking of shackles on his limbs.

"Ah, Levi, always the charmer," he mocked, his eyes gleaming with malice.

"Did you miss me?"

I clenched my fists at my sides, struggling to maintain my composure in the face of his taunts.

"Careful now," I warned, forcing a smirk. "Wouldn't want to end up like last time."

But Alexander just laughed, reclining against the cold stone floor with a smug smirk.

"Oh Levi," he sighed, his voice dripping with disdain. "You're so quick to violence. Makes me wonder if above ground is really meant for someone like you."

"You're one to talk," I shot back, my voice laced with venom. "You grew up in the same filth I did."

But he just laughed, a cruel, mocking sound that echoed off the walls of the cell.

"You think we're the same, huh?" he taunted, his eyes boring into mine with a chilling intensity.

I took a step closer to him, my fists clenched at my sides as I fought to suppress the rage bubbling beneath the surface.

"I might be a rat, but I'm not a shitbag like you," I spat, my voice dripping with contempt. "Cut the shit and tell me— who's killing the Scouts again? Is it Carter? You calling the shots behind bars?"

But Alexander remained silent, his smug smirk never wavering as he watched my every move. I gritted my teeth in frustration, knowing that Erwin's orders bound my hands, preventing me from unleashing the full extent of my wrath upon him.

I pivoted on my heel to turn back but the echo of Alexander's voice pulled me back into the suffocating atmosphere of his cell.

"How's Iris?" he jeered, his grin twisting into a smirk that oozed malice. I shot him a withering glare, my fists clenching at my sides.

"You don't deserve to know a damn thing about her,"

His laughter grated on my nerves, a grating sound that echoed off the stone walls.

"Touchy, touchy," he taunted, his eyes gleaming with sadistic amusement.

"Let me ask you something though. Did you fuck her yet? Or is she still saving herself for marriage?"

"Shut your mouth, scum," I growled, my voice low and dangerous.

But he just leaned against the cell bars, his smirk widening into a smirk.

"What's the matter, Captain? Can't handle a little banter?"

Before I could stop myself, my hand shot through the bars of his cell, seizing his collar with a vice-like grip. With a swift motion, I yanked him towards me, his body slamming against the unforgiving iron bars.

I watched with grim satisfaction as his face contorted in pain, the metal pressing into his flesh. Yet, despite the agony etched across his features, he dared to smirk at me, his eyes gleaming with twisted amusement.

"I know she's in Wall Sina right now," Alexander choked out against my grip.

"Stay the fuck away," I growled, my voice low and dangerous, as I spat in his face, relishing the sight of my saliva trailing down his cheek.

His smirk widened into a grotesque grin, his tongue darting out to lick his lips in a vulgar display. "It won't be me touching her," he taunted, his words a venomous echo in the dimly lit cell.

Disgust surged through me like a tidal wave, fueling the fury that burned within. The red haze descended over my vision, a veil of fury that clouded my senses and consumed my every thought. In that moment, rationality fled, leaving only raw, unbridled rage coursing through my veins.

This insolent little shit thought he could mock me, thought he could make light of the pain and suffering he'd caused. The audacity of it all ignited a firestorm within me, stoking the flames of my fury to new heights.

My elbow met his face with relentless force, each blow a symphony of vengeance echoing through the cold, stone halls of this damp dungeon. His anguished cries reverberated off the walls, a jarring agony that served as a grim will to his crimes.

I cared not for the ears that heard his pleas, nor for the consequences that may follow. All that mattered was the burning desire to see him suffer, to witness him endure the same torment he had so callously inflicted upon her.

The sight of blood streaming down his battered visage only fueled my resolve of the justice he so rightfully deserved. Though my pristine white shirt bore the stains of his punishment, I cared not for appearances. All that mattered was the relentless pursuit of retribution, a relentless storm of fury that showed no signs of abating.

His screams filled the air, a symphony of agony that still echoed through the darkness of the cell block. But even as the blood began to flow, I felt no satisfaction, no relief from the torment that gnawed at my soul.

I wanted him dead.

As I stood amidst the chaos, the echoes of my own name reverberated through the air, accompanied by the unwelcome touch of another's hands upon my person. My immediate response was sharp and unforgiving.

"Get the fuck off me," I growled, my voice cutting through the clamor as I forcefully shook off the unwanted contact, releasing my grip on Alexander and allowing him to crumple to the ground in a heap.

"We need a medic!"

The urgency in the interior police's voices only served to heighten the tension of the situation, their frantic shouts mingling with the sound of my own exasperated sigh.

"You got blood all over my sleeve," I muttered irritably, casting a disdainful glance at Alexander as I attempted to straighten out the mess he had caused.

Turning my attention to the trembling interior police, I couldn't help but feel a surge of impatience at their obvious unease. Rolling up my sleeves to conceal the bloodstains, I met their gaze with a cool and unwavering stare.

"His nose is broken. Might want to get that taken care of quickly or he might lose consciousness. Either way, I don't care," I stated bluntly, my words devoid of sympathy as I prepared to leave the scene behind me.

"Hey, you can't leave yet," one of the interior police protested, attempting to bar my path with a shaky hand.

"And why's that?" I countered, arching an eyebrow at the young officer before me, his nervous demeanor only serving to irritate me further.

"You need to fill out an incident report," he explained, his voice trembling with uncertainty as he attempted to assert his authority.

Glancing back at Alexander, who lay bloodied and battered on the floor, I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at the absurdity of the situation.

"Your incident report is barely breathing on the ground right now, I suggest you take care of it." I instructed calmly, yet with an unmistakable undercurrent of authority in my tone.

The young man quivered before me, his resolve crumbling beneath the weight of my stare. With a muttered apology, he stepped aside, allowing me to pass with a nod of acknowledgment.

"Smart choice."

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[dragonmasterhiccup]

“You do realize that they’ll probably still be looking for me for years, right. Did you- did you ever find out the exact number of how much I’m worth? Ever? And besides, you said it yourself a while back, I look different; I’m taller, I’ve gained weight, and I have a bunch of new scars that they wouldn’t even recognize!” Of course she still had her distinct features; long black hair, forest green eyes, and her stupidly large nose— she rolled her eyes at the thought, ‘thanks Dad…’ she thought to herself. She hated how much she looked like him.

She never forgot about the time she got kidnapped either, she’d still catch herself running her fingers over the few bumpy scars on her arms, from both the burns and from when she got shot twice from the raiders.

“Oh great, the only time I can leave is if I drag Camicazi along with me, what a great friend I’d be, huh? Forcing her to come with me whenever I want to leave Berk.”

She chuckled, though it sounded more like a snort. “You sure you don’t want Tuffnut to officiate? I heard he could, and I’m sure he’d be more than happy to.”

Her eyes widened. “Past nightfall?! Yeah, that sounds great n’ all, but don’t plan for me to stay there the entire time. Unlike someone, whose name shall not be disclosed.” She glared at Hiccup. “I enjoy my sleep.”

“I am curious, where are y’all planning on going though? Did you have like, someplace specific, or just… go where the wind takes you?”

Uh oh

This wasn't what he thought would happen. He should have, without a doubt, seen this coming, but he didn't.

"Uhh...well, yes, but they'll give up eventually, won't they? Look, I know we have tracking dragons, and we'll be able to find you anywhere, but I don't want to risk anything like that happening to you again."

"Not necessarily." Astrid chimed in. "My cousin has been itching to see islands off of Berk, but my aunt is on the more protective side." She glanced at Hiccup. "If Camicazi has a friend with her, she can go anywhere within half a day's flight. You wouldn't be dragging her anywhere, you'd have to hold her back from chasing the horizon."

Hiccup laughed. "Tuffnut? No, he actually can't, he never finished the lessons. We learned that when he accidentally married Ruffnut to Fishlegs. It only lasted a day, though."

The young chief protested. "Hey!"

Astrid chuckled. "Stay as long or as short as you like, just make sure to see us before you leave."

The couple locked eyes with each other before looking back at Danny.

Hiccup grinned. "Mostly wherever the wind takes us, but we were also going to stop by our old base, on Dragons Edge."

[voiceoffenrisulfr]

Multitudes - Chapter Nineteen

... And Running, as Fast as We Can, as Far as We Can.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 -> Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton, James "Bucky" Barnes/Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov/Steve Rogers

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 -> Recovery... Again. Will you run away with me?

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 -> 4380

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 -> (E) recovery, weight gain, injury mentions, stomas, anxiety, begging for death, recovery reluctance, smut.

𝐀/𝐍 -> Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. Please read the warnings, and proceed with caution. You know the drill. Takes place between Magic and Madness chapters six and seven. Masterlist can be found here.

Check it out below, or on AO3 here! The snazzy Black Widow divider comes from @/firefly-graphics and I love it <3 The Multitudes Universe one is our own!

<- Previous Chapter (18/72) Next Chapter (20/72) ->

White.

Why is it always white?

White, then bright, then white, then bright.

Then black.

The tubes in my arms itched, but I couldn’t reach to pull them out.

Sentience came slowly.

Bright.

White.

Pain in my wrists.

Unable to move, think, feel, breathe.

Tubes in my arms, tubes in my nose, tickling the back of my throat.

I coughed, and hands found mine, gentle and reassuring.

No. Back to sleep. Take me back to sleep.

But our body would not comply. Our eyes cracked open, squinting and recoiling against a violent, vibrant light.

“Natasha.”

No. God, no. Anything but this, anything but this.

“Why couldn’t you just let me die?” I whispered, voice cracking, aching with screams I didn’t remember.

Fingers brushed my wrists, pausing just long enough to offer a warning growl to an unseen intervener before my cuffs were removed, gently steering me into his chest. “Never. You didn’t let me die on that rooftop, Nat – I’m not going to let you die now.”

I sighed, leaning against his broad, strong torso. “Please. It hurts. Everything… Everything hurts.”

“I know, but-”

“You don’t. You can’t ever understand this. You will never understand this, Clint. I love you, but I can’t keep going. I can’t keep falling.” It should have been me it should have been me. “It should have been me.”

There was a pause, heavy and painful. “That got shot?”

I nodded slowly, far too tired. “It was my fault. You wanted to get back to work, and I stopped you. If I hadn’t… The least I could have done was take the bullet for you.”

“You heard what Stephen said, Nat. You’d have died.”

“For all the shame that would be, huh?”

He sighed, kissing my hair. “… Do you want to know what I’ve been saying to y’all while you’ve been asleep?”

“I want you to get this tube out of my nose and let me die.”

“Nope. Now – you said you told me about the farm, and about the chickens. Well, I wondered… Maybe there could be a couple of dogs, or even a cat. And a few… Less furry footsteps running around.”

I smiled weakly, shaking my head. “I can’t have kids, Clint.”

“Our closest friends are scientists. I’m sure if it was something you really wanted to pursue, they’d know better than anyone else. Or there’s the adopted, rough-start-in-life kind.”

“That sounds nice,” I sighed, settling closer into his skin, wanting more than anything for this to be how I left the world.

But it wasn’t.

Clint told me stories of our future every day, as I slowly got more and more coherent.

It was a private facility just outside the state, he explained. Just four weeks, if I proved I could gain weight and I wasn’t a danger to myself.

Are we a danger to ourselves?

I sighed, glancing at the ever-present guard. Not while we’re here.

The day they let me out of my room, I was fed dry fish and mushy peas, the substance choking me as it went down.

But every morning we woke up clearer. More horrified. More disappointed in what we had done.

And every afternoon we saw Luna, who helped us to understand.

“Y’all have this idea of your recovery, and it’s intrinsically linked to Clint. When y’all thought you might lose him – and even after, when y’all felt responsible – you had no motivation to recover. Why would you? Either he died, and then what’s the point of living, or he lives with a permenant reminder of what happened – and what if he blames y’all? Isn’t it just easier to walk away before that happens – before he grows to hate you? But of course, y’all love him. You couldn’t just walk away. So you did the next, and arguably more painful, thing.”

We had simply blinked in response, stunned into silence as the nail was hit so squarely on the head. When we relayed this idea to Clint, he opened his mouth to object, to tell us he would never have blamed us, but we cut him off.

“I know, logically, you would never resent us for what happened. We both made a choice; I didn’t force you into it. It wasn’t my fault.” I winced as I spoke, still not used to saying it out loud, but Luna had assured me that it was important for me to hear. “But… We couldn’t face it. The idea that you could hate us, even if you never said anything, and never showed it.”

I swallowed dryly. It was the day before we were due to be discharged, and we were finally trusted to be alone with him.  Now or never.

“And we’re scared. You… You have this thing now, that we don’t understand, and what if… What if…”

His jaw twitched, and he looked away. “What if you aren’t attracted to me anymore?”

I scrubbed a hand over my face, and winced. “Luna said it was normal to have this fear, y’know? And this… It’s a badge of honour, for what you survived. It kept you in my life. And I know all that. I do. And I don’t want to have this fear, because it feels so goddamn selfish, and rediculous. And if you could love us, even when we look like this, then how do we have the right to think like that?”

My breathing hitched, and he wrapped me in his arms, tight against his chest.

“I’m scared of it, too,” he whispered, voice cracking slightly. “I… I still haven’t looked. It gets changed a couple of times a day, and they… The nurses offered to show me how to do it, but I just couldn’t. Bruce does it for me, now they’ve stopped coming.” He laughed mirthlessly, shaking his head. “It’s been nearly six weeks since I woke up and I still haven’t seen my wounds. You think your fear is ridiculous? Well… I win.”

I held him close as we sobbed, united in our uncertainty and our fear. “I… I never even noticed,” I admitted quietly, ashamed of myself once more. “I was too wrapped up in punishing myself to see you were struggling.”

“I still don’t regret the bag – or even hate it. Hell, I’m ecstatic it gave me more time with you. But… I guess I’m a little egotistical. I don’t… I’m not ready to break that mental image of what I look like. I’m not… I’m not ready to not be the man y’all fell for.”

I couldn’t help but cry harder, my own concerns melting in sympathetic kisses pressed to his cheek. “Clint… We will always love you. And you’ll always be our Little Hawk, okay? Bag or no bag. You’ll always be you, and that’s all we need.”

It was Clint’s fear that drove me to take his hand, that first night back at the compound. To lead him through to the bathroom, facing the mirror. He winced, but he didn’t try to stop my hands as I slowly removed his clothes – all of them.

He’s not half a man. He should see himself completely, as we did.

He watched me through watery eyes as I helped him out of his jeans and boxers, but held my wrists gently as I grasped the hem of his t-shirt between trembling fingers. “Nat… I’m afraid.”

I placed a gentle kiss to his shoulder through the fabric, and offered him a weak smile. “Close your eyes. We won’t look until you’re ready.”

He obliged immediately, and I kept my gaze on his face as I pulled his shirt over his head, skin raising in anxious goosebumps. My own lids closed as I went to stand beside him, fingers wrapped tightly with his, our mingled heartbeats racing in sweating palms.

I couldn’t say how long we stood there, the heat radiating from our anxious bodies warming the room, heart breaking as he sobbed quietly. But eventually he subsided into soft sniffles, then silence.

“…Can you count us down?”

I swallowed dryly, using my free hand to hurriedly wipe the tears from my cheeks. Do it for him. Be strong for him. “Three… Two… One… Open.”

My eyes opened a heartbeat before his, the cerulean retracting as his pupils reacted to the light. I couldn’t look away from his reflected face, enraptured, watching every emotion display across his features in quick succession.

He gulped, gaze finding mine. “…Well?”

My arm wrapped around his waist, face impassive as I flicked my eyes over his wounds – the numerous surgical scars where fragments of bullet had been dug from his abdominal cavity, the still-fading bruises from bleeding, and the undeniably obvious bag hanging from his left side, tan material just brushing the top of his thigh.

I squeezed him gently, resting my head on his shoulder. “What do you think?”

He smiled weakly, recognising this routine. “I think… It’s a terrible thing, what happened to me. I didn’t deserve it. And I think…” He inhaled deeply, steadily, at the same place I had only a few months before. “I think I must be really strong to survive all this. Stronger than I realise.”

I grinned warmly, placing a gentle kiss to his cheek. “I agree… But there’s something you forgot.”

He frowned half-heartedly, fully aware of what was coming as he turned to face me, hands resting lightly on my hips. “What’s that?” My hand found his jaw, lips brushing his, sweet and loving. “As I believe we’ve said many times before… You’re beautiful, Clint. You will always be beautiful to us.” I smiled, thumb skirting his cheek, catching a tear shed unconsciously before kissing the damp spot.

“Now… Let’s get you to bed, Little Hawk.”

Unlike my tentative sleep following our similar encounter, when Clint dragged me to bed, it was to clamber on top of him, my mouth finding his in the semi-darkness. He’d gone to turn on the light, but I’d shook my head instinctively, followed by rapid apologies and explanations – it wasn’t him I didn’t want to look at.

He isn’t the only one who hasn’t seen himself since the accident.

Fingertips brushed healing wounds and barely-covered ribs, each shy in our turn, but my blood sung at his touch.

“God, Nat… I’ve waited so long. Please, please fuck me.”

I shook my head, lips brushing his once more. “I’d rather make love to you,” I whispered, and he groaned as his hands found my hair, my own lowering to my shirt. He quickly patted me away, his rough palms skirting the skin tenderly, removing my clothes as he lay me down.

“I… I’ll… I’ll try not to let it touch you,” he murmured shamefully into the darkness, and I winced, pulling his body flush against mine.

“Clint, I don’t think I’ve ever been so attracted to anyone in my life. Don’t you dare keep your distance.”

He sighed with satisfaction as he entered me, his pace slow and deep, rocking against me as his lips pressed to my face over and over, murmuring his devotion and attraction.

Our sex was prolonged and thoughtful, interspersed with tears and muttered confessions, and when we reached our climax together, it was amidst declarations of love and hope.

Clint was snoring in the bed when I rose, the sheet only just preserving his modesty. I trailed his exposed body with my eyes, and sighed.

Beautiful.

Beautiful.

I stole to the bathroom in just my underwear, my own lids snapping shut before I dared to face myself, deep, tentative breaths echoing in the space.

My eyes opened to a form I was unfamiliar with. I was still slender, of that there was no doubt, but gone were the gaunt angles and lanugo, red hair back to a healthy sheen and skin clear.

I smiled, my eyes tracking the old scars. “Friday?”

“Yes, Ms. Romanoff?”

“Can you tell me my current weight? Override code – 2 1 14 14 5 18.”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Romanoff. That override code is no longer in use.” My face fell, and I groaned. “Come on, Friday. I’m really trying here. I want to feel okay about myself. I-”

“Override code – 2 12 1 3 11 8 1 23 11.”

Oh.

That's his?

That's...

Beautiful. Painful.

Exquisite.

I turned to find Clint stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame as he watched me steadily.

“Please clarify instruction, Mr. Barton.”

He glanced at me, and my cheeks heated lightly. “I... I was checking my weight. But it’s not what you think.”

There was a brief hesitation, then he nodded, bravely trusting.

“Please tell us Ms. Romanoff’s current weight.”

“Ms. Romanoff currently weighs 103lbs.”

He met my eyes evenly, and my god, I love him my god, I love him I couldn’t help but think again how beautiful he was, still entirely naked, and sculpted like a God. And so innocent, and trusting, and loving. “How do you feel?”

I shook my distracted head to clear it, turning back to the mirror, staring at the hipbones that no longer protruded so sharply. “I… I think I feel… Okay. I was violently against it, but… I think going away for a little while was the best thing for me. I’ve learned that I don’t have to punish myself for things that weren’t… That weren’t my fault.” His arms found my waist from behind, chin on my shoulder affectionately. “Do you believe that?”

I sighed, tipping my head back beside his. “I’m trying to.”

Lips brushing my throat, he held me closer, firm and unyielding. “It wasn’t your fault, Natasha.” I swallowed dryly, nodding. “None of it was your fault. You aren’t to blame for the things that happened to you.”

Tears pricked my eyes, and I wiped them hurriedly, laughing shakily. “Goddammit, Barton. It’s too late in the day for this.”

He smirked, kissing my cheek once more. “Come on, beautiful. Back to bed.”

“I’m sorry if I disturbed you.”

His smirk turned soft at the edges, tender and affectionate. “I’d rather be awake with you at two am than asleep alone, Nat.”

Fall turned to winter, and with it, came my birthday.

“You know I hate surprises, don’t even think about it,” I’d warned for weeks beforehand, watching the band around my wrist slowly progress from orange to yellow.

Level Three.

Again.

110lb.

Yeah.

I feel… Good.

… Yeah. Me too.

But waking up with his hand caressing my thigh and his arousal in my hip was a pretty good birthday present.

“Mmm… Morning,” I murmured, pushing back gently. A soft growl escaped him, tongue leaving a trail across the side of my throat.

“I was going to wake you up with my tongue in… other places, but I wasn’t sure if you’d appreciate it.”

I purred as I rolled in his arms, brushing my lips across his lightly. “I hope you intend to fulfil that intention, Barton.”

He smirked, fingers caressing my sides as he carefully climbed atop me – still worried, after all this time, about breaking me -  kissing his way down my body. “Your wish is my command, birthday girl.”

When his mouth found me, I shuddered and gasped, head tipping back in ecstasy. “God, Clint… I could spend my life right here.”

He hummed his agreement, vibrating my core, and I shivered in delight, his talented tongue dipping briefly to enter me.

“I thought the convention was that I have the birthday meal?” I stammered, knees falling further apart with a wanton moan.

He drew back just long enough to meet my gaze, smirking. “The convention is to eat out. Nobody ever specified the direction.”

I laughed at that, tapping his head playfully. “Clint Barton, you crude little- fuck.”

Any thoughts or clever insults were pushed out of my mind by his fingertips sliding inside me, other arm looped around my thigh to pull me closer.

I loved it when he did this. I especially loved watching him do this – like I was an oasis and he was dying of thirst, there was an almost desperate note to his ministrations, pleading for me to reward him with my climax. He’d told me many times that he couldn’t get enough of me, but it was at times like this, watching his fingers dig into my hip as he held me close, that I could truly believe it.

“You know what I want, little one,” he whispered, barely audible above the lustful sounds of his digits inside my wetness. “It’s your birthday – you’re allowed to be messy.”

I bit my lip, uncertain. We both knew why I’d been holding back lately – it was the same reason that I found myself compulsively cleaning our rooms for several hours a day. I lived in constant terror of him getting some kind of infection in his stoma, despite the assurances that the red ring was actually pretty hardy, the only real risk coming from improper skin care.

Clint had started changing his bag himself the day after we looked at him, and I couldn’t help but wince at how angry the flesh looked – but Bruce assured us it looked completely normal, and that he was at peak health once more.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” I admitted quietly, flinching. He pulled back once more, his profoundly Clint eyes on mine.

“If it makes you feel better, I’ll take a shower after. Well… Another shower,” he added, grinning as his fingers twitched inside me. “I’ll even take you with me.”

I groaned and nodded once, surrendering myself to his desires and ever-impressive talents as his enthusiastic mouth found me once more, licking and nibbling and- “Fuck, Clint…”

He hummed encouragingly, a soft groan of pleasure escaping him as my fingers grasped desperately at his hair, pulling him impossibly closer, urging him on. He only worked harder in response, fucking me deeply, the nails embedded in the soft skin of my thigh betraying his desire and excitement.

Do it. God, you know I love it. Please.

“I want you to come for me, Nat… Please,” he begged, his voice husky and needy. A shudder of pleasure travelled through my body, hips jerking desperately as I raked at his hair, trying without success to somehow make him be even closer to me. I moaned aloud as my walls contracted, his fingers darting away so he could drop his face and swallow me whole.

“Fuck- Clint, yes, that’s so fucking hot,” I whimpered, his digits sliding in just long enough to prolong my orgasm and give him another hit, a low groan of pleasure escaping him.

When I lay spent and panting, jerking as he swiped his tongue across me gently, he looked up at me, grinning broadly. “I missed this,” he admitted, reaching for his cast-off shirt to wipe his – embarrassingly wet – face.

I only cocked an eyebrow, flushing a little with the fading adrenaline making me realise what he’d done. “I… Sorry. I know there was… I mean, you didn’t have to swallow-“

He silenced me with his lips on mine, and I hummed in pleasure at the taste of my own release. “My dear, sweet Nat… Shut up.”

I watched from a respectful distance as Clint reapplied a fresh bag after our shower. He still didn’t like me getting too close to his uncovered stoma – he’d admitted, only once, his voice quiet and shameful, that he was worried about the smell. That he didn’t want to repulse me.

I’d simply kissed his cheek and tried to reassure him, but I knew he was still profoundly uncomfortable about it, and so I stayed away, but I couldn’t help myself from glancing at the angry, red ring.

“… Does it hurt?” I asked quietly from my spot on the sofa, watching him through the bathroom door he'd only just begun to feel comfortable enough to leave open.

Clint paused, fingers stilling as he pressed the adhesive ring to his skin, the crimson protrusion half-hidden by the new bag. “I can’t feel anything,” he answered eventually, his voice low. “Physically, at least.”

I winced, resisting the urge to bundle him in my arms. “I’m sorry.”

He shrugged one shoulder, finishing the application and pulling a fresh shirt over his head. “I’ve told y’all before, Nat. I still… Struggle, sometimes, but I’m absolutely ecstatic to have this bag. It means I’ll get to have many more mornings like this with you. Speaking of which,” he added, moving into the lounge and beginning to rifle through some drawers thoughtfully. I cocked my head curiously, and he grinned as he turned back, hands hidden behind his back. “Close your eyes.”

Eyes rolling, I groaned playfully as I obliged, wriggling excitedly in my seat. Gifts weren’t given in the Red Room – hell, I didn’t know if my birthday was actually my birthday – and it still felt foreign to me, but Clint had consistently excelled, even before we were dating.

His hands found mine, a small box nestled into my palms. “Okay… Take a look.”

Rather than the object in my hands, my gaze focused on his sweet, uncharacteristically nervous face. Clint had never been nervous to give me a present before, and my heart fluttered lightly with concern, turning my attention to the box and slowly lifting the lid.

I let out a short, wonderous laugh, lifting the delicate silver chain to finger the tiny arrow lightly. “Clint…”

“I actually got it before we had our tattoos. Years ago. When I first realised I loved you,” he confessed, his voice soft and reverent. “I intended to tell y’all how I felt, and then this would be my gift to you – my reassurance that I’d always be there, even when you couldn’t see me.”

I wept lightly, the necklace clasped to my chest. “I wish you’d told us. We could have had so much longer.”

He smiled weakly, pressing his forehead to mine. “I wish I had, too. But what matters is we’re here now. Together.”

“Together.”

Together.

I pivoted in my spot, raising the damp hair from my neck. “Could you put it on for me?”

His fingers brushed mine as he took the chain, placing a gentle kiss to the ink on my spine as he fumbled with the catch. I turned back to face him when he was done, glancing down with pride and joy.

“We love it, Clint. We love you.”

He grinned, then indicated toward the box still in my lap. “There’s actually two parts to this.”

My head cocked curiously, and I picked up the seemingly empty container, feeling something shift beneath the foam. Pulling it out did nothing to ease my understanding – at the bottom of the box was just a brass key, unexpected and unobtrusive.

“Clint… We use tech locks,” I offered in my perplexity, gesturing over my shoulder at the door behind us. He laughed once, shaking his head.

“It’s not for here, Nat.”

“Then what…?”

He simply smiled, soft and mysterious. “How about we take a drive?”

‘A drive’ turned out to a two hour trip, this time to the north, crossing state lines first into Massachusetts, then Vermont, the scenery becoming more and more beautiful the further we got.

You know what this is, right?

I have an idea.

And? What do you think?

I… Have no idea. You?

No clue.

Clint drove mostly in silence, his hands trembling infinitesimally on the wheel, interspersed only with desperate attempts at conversation when he realised he hadn’t spoke for a while. My fingers found my cheek unconsciously, the narrow scar cutting across the bone, recalling the last time we took a recreational road trip, and I flinched.

The tyres of the cherry Challenger skidded as he turned down a dirt road, the uneven track jostling me in my seat. “If you wanted to take us into the woods to kill us, you didn’t need to drive so far,” I laughed, trying to calm the frantic fluttering of our heart.

He smiled wanly, pulling up outside the building at the end of the trail.

My eyes raised slowly, hesitantly, widening as they took in the grand, but in dire need of refurbishment, farmhouse. “Clint-”

“I bought it while you were in hospital,” he explained quietly. “I… I’m not going back to active duty, Nat. I was so close to losing you, and I can’t risk that again. I have to be around for as long as you need me. I’ll be there if there’s an emergency, but… As of next week, I’ll no longer be an Avenger.”

“I want you to come with me. It’s not an ultimatium – I’ll love you wherever, and whoever, y’all are. But you’re burning out, Natasha, and I think it’s time for you to rest. You need to stop giving more of yourself than you have. You’re doing so, so well – but recovery is a long road, and I think this would be a good place to do it.” He sighed, and I could hear the sound of skin on stubble as he scrubbed a hand over his face. “But I’d be lying if I said I only wanted this for you. Largely, I’m just selfish. I want you around me, all the time. I want to know you’re safe, and I can’t do that if we’re not together – but I can’t stay there. Even if – and it’s a pretty big ‘if’, given how strict they are – I get cleared for duty again, I don’t want to do it. I’m getting old, Natasha. I want to stop risking my life for the greater good on a daily basis, and actually enjoy some of it, before the next bullet ends it.”

His fingers found ours, interlacing tightly. “I understand if you don’t want this – or if you don’t want anything to do with me after this. I just… Can’t do it anymore. I’m sorry.”

Our gaze stayed settled on the farmhouse, tears pricking in our eyes. “Ask the question, Clint.”

He inhaled sharply at our level tone, swallowing audibly. “Natasha Romanoff… Will you run away with me?”

Tears leaked unbidden from my eyes as we turned to face him.

It was never really a question, was it?

No… It wasn’t.

“Yes, Clint. A thousand, million times - yes.”

[atsadi-shenanigans]

Feeding Alligators 23 - Paranoia Agent

Lunch break and Astarion's worries. Gale has a carrot.

On AO3.

Y’all find the docks the letter had mentioned. Spot the island out in the murky, sludge water. Before y’all get over there, the others stop. You find a mildly rotted crate that takes your weight. It groans, but it doesn’t bend or buckle or dump your ass into the water.

Astarion does not sit. Too busy looking back the way y’all came.

You chug from your waterskin. You physically feel better from the whole blood loss thing, save for the exhaustion and the ache in your bones. But you’re not panting after water anymore, so the fluids appear to be topped back up. You look out over the swamp. The tree growing from that island puts any childhood climbs to shame. You’ve only seen anything comparable when you went to that old growth rainforest up north, them trees so wide three people couldn’t hug it and touch hands.

With some luck (ha), the island will be deserted. You might be able to accomplish something in this godforsaken place without anyone getting their innards turning to outtards.

“How’re you feeling?” you say after chomping down the last of your bread rolls, two apples, and a chunk of sharp cheese (you try not to shudder at the bitterness).

Astarion glances to you without really seeing you. “Hmm?”

“With the, uh, my blood?” you say. “Did it help?”

“Oh. Oh yes, of course.” His usual smile slips back into place. “Much better. That Gur wouldn’t have been an issue if it had come to it. You could have seen those results yourself, but, alas, you chose to let him leave.”

Gandrel had seemed amiable enough. And though y’all were literal worlds apart, part of you resonated with what sounded a lot like racism. Not the same kind your ancestors had faced (at the hands of your other ancestors), but enough for it to twinge at you. Not civilized, not cultured, savages. As if Cherokees didn’t have towns and crops and trading networks spanning hundreds, if not thousands, of miles. Oh no, they couldn’t be “civilized” because that would mean they were people, and if they were people well, murder and theft would feel a bit more uncomfortable, wouldn’t it? Probably not enough to stop, mind. But enough to make a conscience itch here or there (and it did).

“I did,” you say. “And I’d do it again.”

He starts to bristle. He won’t get it, will he? Whatever bullshit he has against these Gur people, challenging it to his face won’t get you anywhere right now.

“We don’t know what we’re heading into over there, either,” you add. “Thought it might be best to save everyone’s strength.”

Astarion takes this with a small grimace and a soft sound of displeasure. “I don’t like leaving him out there. You didn’t want those Absolute cultists running around behind our backs.”

No, you didn’t. You suppose in his shoes, you’d be just as disconcerted.

“He’s looking for a run-of-the-mill vampire spawn,” you say. “It’s daytime, you’re running out here with SPF-0 and not bursting into flame, and ain’t none of us been mauled to death. Not, y’know, fatally. Mostly.”

His gaze flicks to your neck. The wounds closed and smoothed over by Shadowheart’s magic and Gale’s potion. You realize now just how fortunate that wasn’t visible when you’d met Mr. Swampman.

“Yes, I suppose it’s not as obvious,” he says. “Still.”

Behind the both of you, Shadowheart makes some jab about Lae’zel’s preferred diet. You check and find Lae’zel swallowing what you think is a still-kicking frog.

“Huh,” you say. To Astarion, “Why’s he after you, anyway? How’d he know you were out here at all?”

You hadn’t thought about that part until you say it. Y’all are less than a week out from the crashed butthole ship. Ain’t none of the others even knew where y’all’d landed (and you’re pretty sure they still ain’t completely sure).

“He was sent to fetch me,” Astarion says.

Who, you almost ask.

“It was Cazador,” he continues. You ain’t never seen a man sneer a word until now. The sheer loathing oozes from that name like a stink smearing the air.

“The shitbag who turned you?”

He blinks at the phrasing. The corner of his mouth makes the barest of twitches. Then falls back into that grim line. “Only he would know to send those vermin after me. He’s showing me his power, reminding me he can still reach me, all the way out here.”

You try, and fail, to hide the wince at “vermin.” Pasty White boy with a posh accent using that word to describe a whole group of people sits all wrong.

“It was a group of Gur that attacked me that night in Baldur’s Gate,” Astarion says. His gaze goes distant. “I would have died, had Cazador not appeared and ‘saved’ me.”

The Gur he says Cazador has just sent after him.

“Sounds convenient,” you say.

“It’s a message. He wants me back.”

Oh. If that doesn’t send a shiver of recognition down your spine. More than ten years later and you still don’t open mail from someone you don’t recognize. The second the sun sinks towards the horizon, your drapes are closed, and you know every single car on your street. You even recognize the usual doordash or uber drivers in your area. Because strangers…

You were working on that with your most recent therapist. Not making much ground, honestly, because your fears were fucking founded in reality, thank you very much, and she charged more money for an hour than you made in a day.

“How’d he know where you were?” you say. “We got taken so quick. Or, I did, I ain’t sure about the rest of y’all.”

“Oh, I never saw it coming, else it probably wouldn’t have happened and then I’d be worse off,” Astarion says. His eyes track something you can’t see. His expression goes flat. Not his usual version, though. This is obviously a mask. One to hide what you strongly suspect is disgust (you should be over this by now) and hatred (people say it wasn’t your fault but there were ways out, if you’d just been brave (desperate) enough sooner). “I’m a spawn. As my… my master, he can command me. Our bodies just obey. There’s nothing we can do to stop it. But he hasn’t since I woke up on that beach. I suppose I have the parasite to thank for that; the old rules have stopped applying. Even his. Especially his.”

That last part is soft, barely more than a whisper.

The quiet is interrupted by Lae’zel trash talking the entire concept of eating fruit. They’re doing just fine over there.

“He wants me back,” Astarion says again, still in that soft tone. “He’ll always want me back. He should be able to reach out and compel me, and he can’t. I don’t know if it’s the distance or the worm, but he’ll be furious that I’m still out here. Still free.”

The tiniest inflection on “free.” Something fragile. Tentative. The barest spark that must be breathed upon softly to coax it to kindle. Too strong, and it snuffs it out and kills that spark dead.

“So he sent a monster hunter after me to drag me back. Make an example out of me. Death would be too much of a reward.”

Damnit. If he’s right, if Gandrel really is unknowingly working for that sunovabitch, he’d have reason to kill him. You’d do the same; what he’s describing is hell, worse than anything you’ve known. You’d rip out someone’s throat with your teeth should that ever come for you.

You hope to god he’s wrong. Hope that Gandrel and his people are just doing normal, monster hunter things. Maybe Astarion tangled with this group before. Maybe he ended up on someone else’s shitlist (but how would they know where y’all are? Fuck, that part really bugs you).

“How concerned should we be?” you say.

“‘Concerned?’ Do you know the power a vampire lord possesses?” he says. Actually looks at you and then sneers. “Of course you don’t. He can change his shape, turn into mist, call wolves to do his bidding! Shrug off blows like they’re nothing. He could walk into our camp tonight and kill you all with his bare hands.” He leans in close enough you can smell his hair oil, that spicy herb mix. His face is sharp, eyes damn near burning. “And you would be lucky if death was the worst of it.”

You look to the scars on his neck. They’re ragged. Must have been painful.

Our bodies just obey.

You swallow down a queasy feeling.

“Then what should we do?” you say.

He stares at you. Almost looks like surprise, quickly snuffed for agitation. He scoffs. Stammers a second. “First, we have to…we…I don’t know. If we kill his lackeys, he’ll just send more. We have to be vigilant. Keep our wits about us. And kill any monster hunters on sight.”

That feels extremely directed at you.

Also not a plan. “Be vigilant?” It’s almost enough to draw an eyeroll. Except.

The way he talks, the way he watches the swamp. It’s familiar on a visceral level.

So that’s what that looks like from the other end.

Sasha said that was normal. The better of your therapists (when you could afford them) said the same. Being watched all the time, knowing you were trapped, knowing you were weak and helpless and there was nothing you could do because those higher than you had all the resources, the money, the obedience, and the power? It fucks with the brain. Turns the lever to dump stress hormones into the bloodstream and then kicks off the handle to jam it open.

And you were only in for, what? Fifteen, sixteen years? You don’t know how long Astarion’s been a vampire. But you’re pretty sure it’s way longer. And way worse.

“Okay,” you say. “Will do.”

He gives you a tight nod. Looks past you and his eyebrows flick up. You turn to find both Shadowheart and Lae’zel reaching for their weapons while Gale stands between them, arms raised, holding a carrot for some godforsaken reason.

“Oh,” Astarion says, tone all bright again. “Dinner and a show?”

Previous - Index - Next Chapter

[demonicintegrity]

I did watch Strange World with two of my friends tonight and it was delightful!

We love an explicitly gay protagonist and a film about generational family issues. (Disney’s been doing a lot of that lately huh?)

One note my friend made is that it’s definitely a movie made to be looked at. It’s got a lot of really cool environmental and character designs. Gives a lot of shapes and colors.

My biggest critique is that the pacing is a little off, especially in Exposition mode in the beginning. I think the team bit off more than they could chew for 90 minute movie. But it’s not to any real detriment of the movie. Just wished they would itch more on certain things instead of immediately going to the next thing. Again, doesn’t make the movie unwatchable or bad but also just kinda a pet peeve for me and my friends.

I think y’all should absolutely give it some love, especially since Disney gave it absolutely abysmal marketing to try and sweep it under the rug. It’s got almost a solarpunk vibe to it with the whole alternative energy subplot. A huge lesson (spoiler) is about living with your world which is definitely great to see more of in this day and age.

[nicegaai]

Ch 8: 

I get so nervous every time I start — did I ever tell y’all I got a killer migraine after I started this reread and it lasted like 4 days? there’s no need for that level of stress but here I am all tensed up again. whateverrrrrr. exposure therapy. 

(Paragraph like 3) YUUUUP I already want to go in and tweak the dialogue. this is not quite it. Im itchy im itching to do it but I won’t yet. editing is a trap that will stop me from moving forward…

WHAT. Holy fucking jjjjhjjjhh you would not believe the sitcom level of reaction I just had to realizing I left in actual genuine Editors Notes. This is my worst offense by far this is the worst thing thats ever happened to me in my whole life (lie) I can’t go on  … Im gonna take a break

(2 and a half months later)

Hiiiiiii…where did I leave off… jk im starting over

Chapter 8 the final published chapter huhhh! I don’t remember what kind of cliffhanger I left u guys on but im looking forward to finding out

Wowow I like the beginning dialogue again!!! this is cute and I love them I love dennor when im doing it the way I like them!!!!!!!!!! Thank god im back on my meds ive been so neurotic over little things for like years and for what… I luv my story, I don’t need 2 be afraid…

Llmaoooooo im genuinely enjoying this reread how is that possible!!! This is fun im having fun!

Wtffff Im feeling like a genius for coming up with this and not like I need to kms for once. Brand new emotions for me. Chat did you know life can be beautiful?

LSKDAJKLSLDK I FOUND AN AUTHORS NOTE IS THIS WHAT I WAS TALKING ABOUT 2.5 MONTHS AGO? That I almost cried over? I laughed at my own bad joke but it is NOT that serious … I do want to take it out later. but girllll

I wonder if stabilizing emotionally will ruin the quality of my writing x_x oh well!

I DON THAVE A LOT OF COMMENTARY THIS CHAPTER BCZ I DONT REMEMBER WRITING MOST OF THIS TBH AND IM GETTING SUCKED IN  BY THE PLOT WTF WTF. Again this is a new experience for me ive been so miserable rereading this up til now

Went “NOOOOOOOOOO” out loud when I realized I established a specific timeline. Its already June 15th???????? Fuck me man I was gonna space this out more than that . it was supposed to be like June 3rd at best, in my head …

Changed my mind—The quality of writing is guaranteed to go up if im not dry heaving at the thought of rereading my own drafts. It’s going to be FINE !!!!!!!! Its going to get better!! I may even be able to respond to all the nice comments soon … Ive been scared of ao3 comments I can’t explain why I don’t know myself

UGH THE WRITING IS GETTING CHOPPYYY this could have been avoided surely but it is too late now. I can sense I struggled with beginning the scene and wrote very Point A To Point B just to skip around to the parts I wanted to write. I mean it functions.. but not well.  Ick

Okay... more author’s notes. I messed up stylistically when I decided to leave in so many parentheses bc then I lost the authors notes in the mix. Nasty. Ech. Im annoyed

OH. THAT REALLY WAS A CLIFHFANGER HUH. NO WONDER PPL KEEP ASKING IF IM COMING BACK. OH H H H. IM SO SORRY I SHOULD BE JAILED FOR THIS X_______X

I HAVE THE NEXT SEVERAL CHAPTERS PLOTTED OUT MORE OR LESS AND THE REST OF THE STORY'S EVENTS ARE ON PAPER I PROMIS E I AM TRYING I WILL NEVER GIVE UP

kind of insane ive left u guys off on that for like 6 months. bc ive been obsessed with the events of the next few chapters just like turning them over in my head,.. . and no one has even seen them yet. this needs to be fixed

im attempting my fic reread today. im announcing this bc i will be liveblogging to keep my morale up, NOT THAT anyone cares but i personally need this, like ill only commit to do the thing if theres an imaginary audience holding me accountable. & i like to have fun :3

anyway. captains log, its a beautiful sunny july weekend. i just finished my morning coffee, and, i am dreading this so much. i dont like rereading my own writing but i shall get over it. ok here we go.

Þetta Reddast vagueblogged directors commentary edition

Ch 1:

*opens fic and starts convulsing immediately* god i wish i smoked weed rn. i cannot chill out ever for the life of me

My Mission For Today Is: to remember what plot threads I’ve left hanging so I can resolve this story properly. And also try n remember where the flow is going. I have the end plotted out, I just am a little lost … it’s been a while :-(

------------

Abrupt beginning!!!! I’m not mad because I have . I HAD. Almost no writing experience when I started this. it isn’t ideal but I refuse to be one of those fanfic writers that starts rewriting early chapters without finishing the last ones. Ive never seen one of those types actually finish a longfic. …I’d already rather yap than actually read LMAO AHH

Oh this is worse than I remember. thats cool that s great ok alright *coughs up blood*

"20 somethings" WOW I really did not know where I was going with this when I started huh

LKJSDLKSJDLGKGDJSLDGJK ??? Who authorized this. Who let me cook. What the hell

I could write this better now. I could edit this into something beautiful. <- devil on my shoulder

FORGOT I WAS MAKING RICE BRB

"generously offered nothing to the exchange." wait STOPPPP. I’m so funny

GRAMMAR ERROR DETECTED why is there two periods. I’ll be coming back to fix that …………………. :-(((

Fuck. This is a lot. Marge Simpson Hiding Her Face dot Png

Oh this is stupid this is gayyy this is fukcinnn . Who fucking did t his. What was wrong with me,. This is so good actually. what was i ONNNN. 

Im gonna throw up and I don’t know if thats like/. A complimentary thing or if im just cringing that hard . Im feeling emotions. I love my OTPs..OT3~5? I love them so so much

Ok as much as im like “eww bad writing” this is .. dare I say, rly good in places. Not to suck my own dick but maybe all hope isnt lost and imposter syndrome is an illusion

Grammar mistake #2. Goddddddd. they should ban me from the archive for this

EMILLLLL EMIL EMIL EMIL HIIIIII BABYYYY EMILLL I LOVE UUUU AWWHUUGHH everyone clap for my bewoved baby bruvver right FUCKING now

Urghhh gritting my teeth… Im fully expecting the flow of events to start not making any gd sense. There’s no way this came together the way I hoped in my head and .... For real I was never able to read this all the way thru. this is my first time, lol. and it was all disjointed on the authorial end to say the least. Im scared T-T

Jlxjvklsdkjfsjlkdkjlsjklkljzsdkjlgaskljdgjklasljkgdljkasljkdgjklasjlkdgljkaskljdgjakl?????????? 

Im not liking the ratio of dialogue to whatever the other stuff is. scene-setting I guess. prose maybe. i could have dragged this out way longer... By which I mean made it a more satisfying read. But WHATEVER !!!! 

TIMO !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! TIMOOOOOOOOOO NUMERO UNOOOO DO MUNDOOOOOO I really need to utilize him more. As soon as I finish this fic I need to write a Timo POV spinoff where he gets cancelled on furry twitter for proshipping in real life

Hmmmm chapter ending didn’t hit as hard in practice as it did in drafts. Oh well. God damn that was a lot to happen in one chapter LMAOO???

OH SHIT MY RICE IS STILL COOKING —— 

[molzies-fanfics]

Kouros

A/N: I think this is the main reason why I don’t draw male anatomy often lol. I can’t imagine what the people around me would think if they saw photos like that on my phone, I’d be mortified! So I tried to channel that kind of feeling into this fic, and because I need to write for Donnie boi more and I think his reaction would be a hell of a lot funnier I decided to go with him! Hope y’all enjoy!

UPDATE: it’s been well over two years since I began the draft...but I’ve done it! it’s here! IT’S ALIVE! this fic I mean...starting uni next week so wish me luck guys!

 Donatello x gender neutral reader

words: 753

Requested by: @choccoshake​

Donnie knew you loved art, doodling, painting, graffiti, you name it you most likely did it. It was similar to how he had to get a blueprint down or the itch to write equations almost everywhere. He was surprised his brothers weren’t annoyed with the incessant scribbles but sometimes there were just as bad with how they wrote their names all over the place, especially the glaring graffiti of Leo’s name before you entered the area of his ‘bedroom’.

 However having a significant other that kept most of their drawings to themselves was a welcomed change of pace. You often found inspiration whilst sitting in his lab, which made him feel like a piece of him gave you the little creativity push. It gave him fuzzy butterflies in his stomach to say the least. Sometimes you used his printer to print out references for your work, you sometimes used the grid method and other times it was just better to have it to scale besides where you were working. Donnie never pushed to see what you were working on, you always gave him a heads up before peering over his shoulder by brushing your fingers over his shell or mumbling his name softly.

 That was until he went to fetch something from his printer this morning and found not only his papers on ‘how to get pepperoni out of an engine’ (don’t ask) but an incredible amount of pictures of shirtless dudes.

 Human shirtless dudes to be more precise.

 Even though Donnie had the suspicion that this was purely for art’s sake, he couldn’t help the pang of jealousy that shot through his chest.

 Not only were most of these men pure muscle but they were clearly human…something he was very much not.

 You were invested in drawing anatomy, of course that included human men. He tried to think of this from a more logical point of view, but he couldn’t help the ‘what ifs’ from entering his mind and taking over his somewhat uneventful morning (besides the pepperoni incident).

Before he could come to anymore conclusions he knew he had to talk to you…or at the very least give you your references.

“Hey Y/N?” Donnie’s voice called out from his lab as he entered the lair. You were perched on the couch, fully engrossed in your drawing.

“Yeah babe?” you answered, not bothering to look up. This was normal behavior between the two of you. If either of you were working then you wouldn’t bother looking up unless it was something important. Donnie felt hurt nonetheless. He really needed you to look at him just for the sake of seeing him.

“Can I talk to you for a second?” The turtle asked, gripping the papers to his chest as if they would protect him from his feelings.

Finally, you pushed your sketchbook to the side as you focused all of your attention on him and only him.

“Sure! What’s up?” You grinned. Dread began to settle over the terrapin’s face as he didn’t want to be the cause of distress. Yet he couldn’t get those damn thoughts out of his brain.

“I just wanted to know about these?” He smirked slightly as he showed you the pictures.

“Oh…those were just for drawing. They look a bit stupid though huh?” Giggling, you apologized for using his printer without checking first.

“That’s not what I wanted to talk about, I mean kind of, but not at the same time?” your expression morphed into confusion as he rambled.

“Okay? Wanna sit with me?” You offered as he walked around the couch, sitting very close to you as he took a deep breath in.

“It’s just…when I saw these I couldn’t help feeling jealous. You draw anything and everything and I understand that includes the male anatomy of…humans. Your own species. I think…I felt like you could do so much better than me.” The purple banded turtle’s walls came down as shrank into his shell.

“Don, you are my boyfriend. I care about you so much it hurts sometimes. Yeah I draw people all the time but maybe I should focus on something else…” you trailed off, taking the references from Donnie and dropping them on the floor.

“What’s that?” he asked meekly.

“Can I draw you?” your eyes gleamed, your hands resting on his cheeks as you asked.

“Oh-of course!” chuckling to himself, he let out his signature snort as you scrambled for your sketchbook beginning a detailed sketch of your Donnie. Your muse, Donatello.

[toukatan]

You read every gojohime fic???? That's amazing!!! What are your favourites?

hello anonie! i guess i can say i’ve read at least a good 80% of all the fics, at least. probably. most likely because the fic tag at the start of the year was tiny and now the community’s grown so much there’s almost 600 of them. that’s insane to me. like hello?

i have a lotta fics that come to mind, that i should honestly make a master post on because i love them all. so here are a few many that came to mind immediately as i typed this up.

gojohime fic recommendations!

multichapter

limitations by ohmytheon 

“Parenthood chooses you," her mother used to tell her, but Utahime never understood that saying more than the moment she realized she was pregnant with Gojo Satoru's child. They were never meant to be something serious - never meant to be more than they were - and yet they both suddenly find themselves in a world that doesn't care about their desires - and that brings them closer in a way that no one else can understand. It won't be easy and it won't be kind to either of them, but it appears as if the universe has other plans for them

no one is what they were before by ohmytheon 

The world broke when Gojo Satoru turned on jujutsu society. It's not the hopeful place it was before, but Utahime has never been one to give up. Until she's placed in a dangerous position directly in his path, and she finds herself trapped in a web that doesn't seem intent on ever letting her go.

and touch me like you never by ohmytheon 

In public, Gojo is a special grade bastard, especially to Utahime, and has been all their lives. He knows exactly what insults to throw and what buttons to push to drive her up a wall. In private, however, he's got quite a few other things to tell and show her, which only makes things more confusing. It would be easier if she could avoid him entirely, but for some reason, he won't let her go entirely.

gravity by aerfei

This is Utahime, fierce and indomitable, and this is Satoru, who despite holding the world’s regard, still craves something that Utahime has had all her life. Coming together is sometimes an act of desperation, and sometimes a deliberate choice. Or: An Iori Utahime character study, through the lens of her relationship with Gojo Satoru, starting from the beginning and ending at the Goodwill Event arc. Manga spoilers and (at least 95%) canon-compliant through (at least) chapter 135.

count every single leaf in autumn by florieneofthesea

“I told my family we’re dating.” Utahime’s hand hovers over the door. “What?!” (or: Gojo tells his family that he's dating Utahime to get them off his back, so of course they invite her to the dreaded family dinner™)

favourite colour by otherthingsonhold

At 28, Satoru Gojo's responsibilities only start to multiply. With his clan looking to him to lead the family, and the balance of the universe in his hands, Gojo isn't thinking of much else. But when his mother brings something to his attention, the only thing Gojo can do is follow through. But how is Utahime Iori part of all of this?

gojo catoru by ashittywriter

Utahime is tasked to catsit a suspiciously large Persian dollface cat with pristine white hair, the most boop-able nose, and to top it off the cutest cerulean eyes. Too bad the cat also happens to be her idiotic colleague Gojo Satoru.

at the tail-end of spring by florieneofthesea

Utahime doesn't expect to remember her ex's number off by heart but it comes in handy when she's a little less than sober outside a club in a city she's not familiar with and her battery on three percent. She just wishes things turned out differently for them. (Or, post-break up exploration where outer forces refuse to let them have their happy ending.)

a second chance by onewordmore

In another world, it wasn't Geto who sneered down at humanity, regarding them to be worthless monkeys that deserved to die. In another world, it wasn't Geto who openly defied the Jujutsu Council and brought down terror and fear to all. In another world, it wasn't just Amanai Riko who died that day, amidst the cheers and delighted cries of the insane. And Utahime was going to learn, first hand, the consequences of her own death.

from you to me by onewordmore

A drabble series regarding Gojo and Utahime. From fluff to smut to angst to love. This is going to have it all.

oneshots

oceansize by aerfei

The marriage is arranged by their families, small clans both, with all their hopes and traditions laid gently upon the shoulders of their only heirs -- and yet, this distance is impassable.

under the cover of darkness by ohmytheon

It takes a little alcohol, early morning hours, and a game of truth or dare for Gojo and Utahime to admit some difficult truths to each other.

risk/reward by ohmytheon 

No punishment had ever been more effective in making Gojo do his actual job than receiving praise from his secretary - or more grueling than when Utahime withheld it.

like a good roommate by ohmytheon

Utahime has a problem: her bed wasn't delivered to the new apartment. Her ridiculous roommate, Gojo, has a solution - but he's kind of panicking on the inside.

aware of us by halspur 

“We did alright, didn’t we?” Gojo put his phone down after taking several dozen photos of Tsumiki walking across the stage, his eyes soft. “I mean, we were just kids, too.”

love song by halspur

“Because you’re weak.” Gojo said, muffled into the thin skin of her throat. “I can’t leave you alone.”

tear you apart by halspur

“I don’t want to be mean to you,” Utahime’s cheek was pressed into his spine, her voice muffled. “I like you.”

cuddles are for clean boyfriends by just_trying_my_best_everyday

Utahime finds Gojo Satoru sitting right behind the door, blindfold hanging on his neck, completely soaked in blood and petting her cat with both hands. And he stinks.

honey by florieneofthesea

Gojo Satoru experiences love a decade before he fully realises it.

roots by florieneofthesea 

At the start of winter, Utahime starts to cough up blood. She thinks maybe its just the lingering damage from her last mission, but the coughing persists and it starts to scratch her throat, and itch at her lungs and when she finally makes the trip to Tokyo to ask Shoko for her help, she doesn't even get the first word out. Shoko welcomes her at the entrance to Tokyo Metropolitan Technical School and Utahime hacks up a single, pale blue petal, smattered with blood. She stares down at the flora on the ground and wonders if she's been cursed. Utahime looks up, and Shoko's eyes are wide.

to have and to hold by ashittywriter

“M’sorry," Gojo said his voice slurring at the end. "But please go away, I have a girlfriend." Utahime blinked in confusion. What the fuck? 

souvenir by PrettyKittyLuvsU

“Aha!” Gojo tugged something out of his pocket, his long fingers curled around it as he held his hand behind his back. His other hand waved before him, a cheeky grin splitting his lips. “Ora, ora! Hold out your hand.” Utahime stared flatly. “Ora, ora!” Gojo persisted, continuing to wave his hand as he grinned. “Hold out your hand already!” Utahime scowled at the hand swaying infront of her face. She had half a mind to slap the man instead, but her students were closely watching. Even Gojo’s students, the second years mainly—for Sukuna’s vessel was apologizing profusely as the brown haired girl continued kicking him while the quiet one made no effort to stop her— looked in fascination at whatever ridiculous souvenir Gojo wanted to hand her. Utahime slowly lifted her arm, already planning on throwing the thing back in Gojo’s annoying face. Gojo gets Utahime a very special kind of souvenir. Set during the start of the Goodwill arc.

dayum this exposes me huh? i do be reading a lot but what can i say i love to see it. all these fics are amazing, to the writers y’all are doing fantastically like my goodness you be really putting ya girl in a loop with some of these fics with your plot-lines and doing it flawlessly. can’t thank them enough for them, their hard work and time!

be sure to show the writers some love and support with comments, bookmarks and fight that dayum kudos button when it smiles at you because lemme leave more—

i think they’d really really appreciate it when they hear the bing and be sure to check out all of their stories including the ones in the pairing tag! happy readings 😙✨

[shurisneakers]

harmless (v)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)

Warnings: cursing, ghosts, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, rats

Word count: 2.3k

A/N: why did i like this chapter sm someone explain. anyway!! y’all are so passionate about these two i love it mwah

if you have any ideas for future inventions/evil plans, lemme know! i might actually end up using them

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Series Masterlist

He dislikes the subway. 

Other than his other valid reason to have disdain for trains, the subway is dark, it’s shady and he’s sure he’s seen rodents fight to the death here on several occasions.  

Still, he’s following you down the stairs of the station, watching as you whistle along to the song blasting through your headphones. There’s a backpack swung over your shoulders, hands stuffed into the pocket of your hoodie and converse doing a skip every now and then. There’s a bandana that’s tied across your face, acting as a mask to hide your identity. 

He realises that you’re dressed like a commuter. Were you going to dress the part every single time?

You walk along with the crowd. He follows, a few feet away.

Until you stop. He abruptly stops too, leading someone to walk right into him. 

“Watch it, dumbass,” they hiss with the courage of someone who has no idea who he is. He ignores them. 

He looks on as you dig around your backpack and pull out a roll of paper. A poster, he realises soon when you peel off a layer from the back and press it to the wall. 

Was it legal to put up posters in the subway? He wasn’t quite sure. 

He observes as you turn around and continue down the path. He waits a few seconds before trailing up to the poster.

Volunteers needed!

If you’re interested in being turned into a ghost for a couple of hours, this is your chance! Should be okay with being on camera so that we can make money off of taped paranormal sightings.

Paid opportunity. You get to pick your outfit. Randos don’t apply.

He yanks the poster of the wall before continuing down the same place you did.

He finds another poster along the way. He doesn’t hesitate in pulling it down. You were advocating to kill people. 

He knows he’s going in the right direction because more posters creep up along the wall.

The both of you are on the platform by now but to him, something changes about the placement of the posters. They were growing in frequency, the distance between them decreasing as they were situated close to each other.

He pauses in front of the next one, hand hovering over the paper.

All it reads is ‘STOP’.

He furrows his eyebrow, pulling it down before peering over at the next one.

‘TAKING’, is all that it says.

It doesn’t take him very long to make his way through all the posters in the hallway. 

‘THESE’

‘DOWN’

The train’s arrived by now but a quick scan over the crowd and he knows that you haven’t entered. That, and he knew that you were too dramatic to leave without a trace or a small conversation with him. 

‘DICKHEAD’

Tasteful, he thinks. 

“It took effort to make them, stop ruining it,” you whine from the end of the hallway. It’s empty, given that rush hour was over a while ago. 

Even though the mask covers half your face, it’s obvious that there is mischief etched under it. The twinkle in your eye is telling. 

“You’re literally killing people.” He holds up the poster. Not the ‘dickhead’ one. He pockets that for later. 

He knows there are a few minutes before the next train arrives and more people flood the station. The eccentricity of today lay in the lighting from the incandescent lamps and acoustics of the platform. It made his voice echo like a movie scene. 

“I very much am not,” you huff. 

“You’re turning them into ghosts. That’s what a murderer does,” he says pointedly. 

“Well, only if you keep saying it like that. You’re making me look bad.” You cross your arms across your chest. “What are you, Fox News?” 

A scurry next to him earns his attention. Two rats nibble at a piece of fallen food. He wonders when they’ll starting brawling. 

“Explain this.” He waves the poster around. He isn’t taking it too lightly he hopes. If it’s actual murder then it’s going to be an issue. 

You pull out a black cylinder, slightly bigger than a pen. He can’t really see any more details, but you hold onto it like a wand. 

“I’m turning them into ghosts. I’ll post videos of them doing stupid shit. I get famous and then boom, cash money.” You rub your index finger and thumb together. “I’ll give you a share if you volunteer.”

“You’re not explaining the death part.” 

He can feel it. You’re about to start derailing. 

“Winter Soldier, the ghost story. Literally.” You grin, yanking down the mask from your face to prove it. It pools around your neck. “That’s so funny, c’mon, it’d be amazing.”

It’s been years since he’s heard that. Never in this context. 

“No,” he says sternly, “and I’m going to have to bring you in if you’re going to kill people.”

The rats were ignoring everything that was going down like the hardened criminals that they were. They had probably seen worse. He can’t stop paying attention to them.

“I’m not killing them, bro.” You raise your hands in exclamation. “I’m just moving some molecules around, some frequency shit. They’re alive, just ghosts.”  

He’s always been one for science. Straight As throughout high school, attended science conventions as a hobby, alive even at 100 through some mad experimentation, definitely seen some weird shit during his lifetime. 

But this doesn’t make sense.

“No,” he repeats. “Give me the thing.”

“Fine, I’ll show you.” You roll your eyes. “Since you have absolutely no faith in me.”

He does a quick review of his surroundings. 

No one’s around, which is good. 

But that just leaves him in front of you, which is bad.

“Don’t you even thin-” he starts, muscles tensing as he shifts into a defensive stance.

You whip out the little pen thing from beside you but before he can react you turn around and duck. 

The click of a button releases a bright light, small but intensely stronger than the fluorescents in the station.

He reels back, feet carrying him away from where you’re crouched. His eyes quickly look down at his body. 

Nothing’s changed. 

He lifts his hand to check, runs it over his face. Still alive. He thinks.

“Behold,” you declare, “Ghost rat.”

He looks to where you’re pointing. The two rats from earlier were still nibbling on their food but something was off about them. 

He could see the faint outline of the tiles on the wall behind them, almost like they were... translucent.  

You aimed at the rats, not him. He doesn’t know whether to feel relieved or annoyed at the fake threat.

He watches as they move. They don’t look hurt or injured.

“Cool, huh?” you say smugly. 

He can’t stop staring at them. 

“Bring them back.”

“They’re fine, look how abstract it is.”

“Bring back the rats.” He can’t believe this is what his life has come to.

Bucky Barnes, Rodent Protector.

You aren’t fazed by his indifference, instead wonder filled eyes gaze at the animals. “Astral mice, sarge. Embrace the miracle of modern science.”

“You killed them.”

“They’re alive, they’re just ghosts.” You raise a finger to point. “Look, they’re still eating. Biological functions are still taking place.” 

 Which was true. But still. He doesn’t know what is going on.

“Bring them back to... non-ghost alive.” 

“You sure you don’t want one? That one kinda looks like you.” One hardened glare after you realise the answer. “Jeez, alright then.”

You dig through your bag before pulling out a matte black replica of your current invention. 

“Sexy colours, right?” You hold them up. “I modelled them after your arm.”

He looks down. Sure enough the gold and black matched his cybernetic limb. It was oddly flattering. 

“Say thank you, Y/N, for letting me be your muse-”

“Un-ghost the rats.” 

“Ungrateful,” you narrow your eyes at him. 

Still, you comply with his demands, ducking down to their level again.

A click of the button, a bright light and the rats are back to normal. Non-transparent normal.

“Okay, give me that.” He takes a step towards you. 

“Nuh uh.” You pull your arm back. His mouth twitches at your response; what are you, five?

The black one is stuffed back into your bag but you wave around the gold like a threat. 

He sighs, making a pass for it. In a second his arm is twisted and shoved against his back, forcing him to spin so that he’s facing away from you. His eyes widen.

What the fuck?

“Now we’re having a good time,” you whisper into this ear. 

He swiftly turns around, grabbing your wrist to rotate his own out of your grip. 

“Since when can you fight?” he asks.

“Are we getting to know each other now?” You raise your leg to give him a semi gentle kick in the side, using his momentary distraction in blocking it to give him a knock on the head with your free hand. “This is so romantic, sarge.”

There’s a low rumble in the distance and he knows the train would soon start pulling into the station. It was still a distance away, but his heightened senses warned him that it wouldn’t take much time. 

He groans. How much longer would he have to go at this?

He could easily win this fight and he knew it. But something in him itched, pulled him back from doing it.

He blocks another attempt at his head. “Stop that.”

You grin. “You know what’d be fun?”

He knows you’d reply even if he didn’t encourage it. The lights from the train light up the tunnel around the corner. 

“This.” You don’t give him a second to recover before you flick your wrist away from him.

The device flies out of your hand and right onto the track. The both of you watch, you in glee, he in horror, as the train runs right over it, unleashing the brightest light he had ever seen. His eyes shut instinctively before it blinds him.

He forces himself to pry open his eyelids, look at the damage caused. 

The train, sure enough, is translucent. He can see the posters on the other side of the platform through the carriage, through various people holding onto the poles for support or seated on the seats.

“Ghost train!” you cheer. He’s mortified.

“Fuck no,” he mumbles, yanking the backpack off your shoulder. He rummages through it, looking for the gold version.

“You lookin’ for this?” you ask nonchalantly, holding it up in your hand like it isn’t the solution to stopping a bunch of ghosts from wandering around New York. 

“Turn them back.” He gives you a chance. 

“Do it yourself, coward.” You grin, holding it above your head. The train is going to stop and he needs everyone to be alive and non-ghost before they leave.

He doesn’t wait this time, instead turning to you. The thing is still held in your grip above your head. He rolls his eyes, doing a quick assessment before grabbing your free hand, tugging you closer and plucking the device out of your hand before you have the opportunity to retract it.  

“Great, now figure out which button to press.” You’re dangerously close to him. He can feel your hoodie brush against his tactical jacket. “Also if you wanted to be all pressed up against me, you could have just asked.” 

He furrows his eyebrows, letting go of you as you give a loud laugh. He looks down at the device. It has several buttons, littering up and down the side. Each look the same. 

The train’s slowing down. 

“They’re both the same device; this version is not a magical solution to the other one. If you press the wrong button then both of us are going to be fucked.”

The last carriage is getting closer. 

“Say I win this round and I’ll fix it.” 

There’s a gleam in your eye. He knew this was exactly what you wanted. 

He wishes he was as stubborn as Steve, just run through each button until the right one worked.

“You win this one.” He hands it back. He wasn’t like Steve and judging by the number of items the idiot jumped out of planes without a parachute on a daily basis, Bucky was glad about it. At least Bucky did it sporadically.

“Yay, two each for the both of us, then,” you say, taking it from him and twisting, eyes running down the sides. “Close your eyes, old man, or else your cataract’s gonna get worse.”

Right as the train pulls to a stop, you press down on the button before throwing it and the blinding light that emanates from it. It lands on the top of the train right as the doors open. 

The passengers start stepping out. Some of them are looking at their hands and legs in a little disbelief, most just push through the crowd to leave.

He can’t see through them. It’s a good sign. 

He turns to look at you but you’re not there. Instead, the weight of the small device weighs down in his pocket.

The sound of a thud on glass draws his attention. 

He looks up at the train. The window of the carriage in front of him has a bit of fog on it. You trace a heart in the condensation and blow him a kiss before pulling your mask back on.

The train starts moving, leaving him alone in the platform again with your invention.

He lets out an exhale, wandering outside to grab a sandwich before waiting to catch the next train to go home. 

Later in the evening, he catches hold of a bit of tape and the ‘Dickhead’ poster finds a place on Sam’s door. 

He doesn’t appreciate it.

So now it’s tucked away in the shelf of Bucky’s bedside table along with a freeze ray, a ghost-inator, and some discount Pym Particles. 

Next part

[saeyoungchoismaid]

The brothers’ reaction to MC wearing an occult symbol

Genre: angst?, fluff Warnings: Belphie’s has earlier lesson spoilers. Y’all know the one  A/N: Writing Satan’s reminds me that I want to write hcs or fics where the whole demon thing is more realistic. Ya know like they kill people and that sort of thing but n e ways-

Lucifer:

it only took him a second to get a weird vibe from you 

well, not actually you but an energy coming from you 

once he gets close enough to you, he starts to feel his skin crawl

he looks over your being before spotting a hidden chain disappearing into your shirt

“May I?” he asks, bringing his hand close to your neck and pointing at your hidden necklace

you look down in confusion before realizing what he’s referring to 

“Oh. Uh, yeah, sure,” you reply confusedly but agree nonetheless 

he hesitates for only a second before grasping the necklace and pulling it up

he clenches his jaw when the chain starts to burn him, his fingers quickly releasing it once the hidden pendant is on the outside of your shirt

your eyes widen in shock when you see his red fingers pull away from your neck, a frown coming to your face 

“Ah, just as I thought,” he says softly, staring down at your chest

you flush and look down, spotting your necklace for everyone to see 

“I’m not sure if you know this or not but that pendant is actually an occult symbol. It wards off demons and burns them when they touch it. It’s honestly probably a good idea to wear it until everyone gets used to your presence,” he informs before taking a step away from you 

you gently pick it up between your fingers, staring down at it with a frown

“Oh, okay,” you say softly

you didn’t like the thought of hurting anyone but he has a point. They’ve already explained to you that not all demons are friendly with humans, so some might try to attack you 

guess this pendant will be useful during your stay 

(don’t worry. You eventually take it off for Mr. Grumpy Pants)

Mammon:

he always gets uncomfortable being too close to you but not for the reasons you think 

this man is a SIMP, okay?

he wants to be near you 24/7 but physically finds it hard to do so 

it takes him a while to figure out why though 

one day, you wear a low-cut shirt and there lays a necklace around your neck 

of course, this man looks STRAIGHT at your chest because woughnwgwg exposed skin 

but then he notices the necklace 

do you always wear that?

“Heya, (Y/n). Do ya, uh, always wear that necklace?” he asks you after pondering on it for a while 

it would make sense as to why his skin always crawls and why he feels like he always has an itch he just can’t scratch 

you look down at the necklace and smile, picking it up between your delicate fingers

“Huh? Oh, yeah. It came with a Halloween costume I wore last year and I guess I liked it enough to always wear it,” you reply as you look down at it before letting it go 

he grunts and stares at it, trying to make it combust with his eyes alone 

“Do you think you could stop wearing it?” he asks softly

this makes your eyes widen, a small pout gracing your smooth lips 

“What? Why? Do you not like it?” you ask quietly, disappointment filling your tone 

and, of course, Mammon panics 

“What? No! Well, kinda. Not for the reason ya think though! It’s jus that it’s an occult symbol, meaning it’s used to keep demons away,” he sputters out before eventually getting to his point 

at this, your face becomes crestfallen 

“Oh. That’s why you guys always seem so nervous and uncomfortable around me...” you mumble

before he can comfort you, you take it off and move to throw it away 

“I won’t ever wear it again then,” you promise with a warm smile 

Levi: 

he knew something was off about you but he wasn’t sure what it was until the TSL competition 

just like the others, he felt itchy and maybe even a little sick when he got too close to you 

but you were so nice! and pretty! and smart! 

he couldn’t help wanting to get to know you better

when the TSL competition happened though, he ended up being blinded by jealousy and attacked you 

he got close enough to grab you by your shirt 

the thing is, your necklace flew out of your shirt when he tugged you forward and it fell across his hand

he hisses and pulls away from you, looking down at the red lines now adorning his skin 

this calms him down a bit surprisingly

you, on the other hand, were still freaking out 

“I’m sorry! What just happened? Are you okay?” you ask as you gently cradle his injured hand 

he stares at you in confusion before it converts to awe 

he just attacked you and you’re still worried about him 

yeah, he’s in love 

when he doesn’t reply, Lucifer steps in 

“Your necklace caused the burn. It’s an occult symbol, meaning it wards demons away. Guess it worked in your favor just now.”

“I’m sorry,” Levi says quickly after Lucifer is done talking 

he then swears that you won’t need to wear it around him anymore, feeling guilty for attacking you 

Satan:

this smart demon knew what he was feeling right away 

he’s read enough books to know that you probably have some sort of occult symbol on you somewhere 

he doesn’t bring it up though 

he’d rather hangout around you and feel his skin crawl and for his skin to go ice cold than to have you take it off and risk you getting in danger with other demons 

not that he’d let that happen. He’d skin someone alive before letting them close enough to hurt you 

once you two start getting closer though, you notice that if you try to hold his hand or to cuddle into him on the couch while watching a movie, he flinches away from you 

it breaks your heart, really 

which he instantly notices and realizes he has to talk to you about before he loses you 

“Darling, can I see you in my room for a moment?” Satan calls to you as you walk past his room, your heart skipping a beat as the pet name rolls off his tongue with ease

once you enter, he asks that you close his door, which causes you to grow nervous and excited at the same time 

once the door is closed, he starts to explain the whole situation to you 

he can’t even finish his explanation before you’re ripping it off your neck and throwing it away into his trash bin

he chuckles as he stands, meeting you by his desk where you threw the necklace away 

he bends over to take it out of the trash, grunting when the necklace burns him 

before he can hand it back to you, you snatch it out of his hand

“Why would you do that?” you cry in despair, your free hand cradling his injured one 

he smiles at you and squeezes your hand while his free hand comes up to bring your head up 

“Because I still want you to wear it when you go out. It would just be nice to be closer to you without it, my love,” he coos, making you gulp at how close he is to you 

you nod your head though and place it in your pocket, noticing the goosebumps covering his arms 

“I’ll go put it away in my room and then we can cuddle,” you declare

Asmo:

bruh 

he notices it right away because of course he tries getting close to you right away 

he gets a foot away from you and that’s when he feels it 

he pouts as he stops his prowl towards you, trying to shake off the feeling of unease and nervousness

which is definitely a new feeling for him 

he backs away from you and finds that those odd feelings are slowly fading away from his body 

weird 

he doesn’t really understand what it is until much later

he kept his distance but still flirted like a madman

which apparently worked since you liked him 

so, when he decides to ignore the weird feeling and goes to kiss you one day, his hands gently rest on the side of your neck as he kisses you 

well, he didn’t actually get to kiss you seeing as the chain burns his hands and he pulls away with a sharp gasp 

you both stare down at his red hands in silence, trying to process what just happened 

before you can even react, one of his hands come back to your neck and snaps your necklace off of you 

“Asmo!” you screech, going to pull it out of his grip when he throws it across the room

as soon as it’s out of his hand, his hands gently clasp your cheeks before smashing his lips to yours 

after a spicy makeout session, he briefly explains what your necklace was before going back to kissing you 

Beel: 

my poor baby didn’t understand what was going on 🥺

he’d go to give you a hug or offer you some food and found it impossible to be close to you 

it upset him immensely 

my mans likes to show his affection physically AND verbally like a legend 

but he can’t get closer than a foot to you before he starts to feel a different kind of pit in his stomach 

it wasn’t until you came to one of his games that it all became clear what was going on 

he made the final point needed to win the game, all of his teammates knocking against his helmet and lightly shoving him 

when you came over though, they parted like the red sea for you 

you squeezed Beel into a hug and it felt perfect other than the weird feeling that comes over him 

he moves to wrap his arms around your shoulders, his body suddenly jolting away from yours

your eyes widen at him, your heart lurching up in your throat 

did you make him uncomfortable? But it seemed like he was going to hug you back? 

he grabs your hand and starts to drag you off the field and away from prying eyes  

you try to ignore the butterflies in your tummy from his hand holding yours 

once you two are alone, he lets you go, which causes the butterflies to instantly die

“(Y/n), do you think you could get rid of your necklace?” he asks nervously 

he’s afraid that he’s being too selfish by asking this of you 

your brows knit together in confusion, looking down at your necklace that you’ve been wearing for a couple of months now 

“What? Why? Do you not like it?” you ask worriedly, bringing your hands up to touch it 

he explains what happens to him when he gets near it, his eyes shining with sadness 

“Oh, why didn’t you just say so? Of course I can take it off,” you say as you go ahead and slip it off and place it in your pocket 

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he reassures 

“I want to,” you reassure right back

Belphie:

so yeah, your necklace ended up saving your life 

when Belphie was released and turned out to be deceiving you this whole time, things went downwards really quickly 

when he moved to choke you, your necklace burned his hands

he pulled away in shock, giving his brothers time to jump in and save the day 

once everything was sorted out and he apologized, you two slowly became friends

he resented what he did and that necklace of yours

he’s sure that after what he did, you wouldn’t trust him enough to take off your necklace 

and for a while, it was true 

you would tense up around him, make excuses to leave, etc.

once you two got past that “hey, sorry I tried to kill you” stage though, things started smoothing out

when you two started to like each other though, he hated that necklace even more 

it got to a point where he wanted to cuddle and kiss you so bad but he didn’t have the confidence to ask you to take off the pendant 

luckily for him though, you took it off yourself 

“Where’s your necklace?” he asks curiously when you come up to hug him, his body instantly sensing the difference 

“I wanted to be able to hold you like this without you looking like you wanted to die,” you tease half playfully 

he blushes as he wraps his arms around you 

he never realized how transparent he was until now 

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