#and instead just bodily roll out of it while it was still moving

[independent-fics]

Rewatching “The 12-Step Job” and actually processing that Hardison and Eliot in the end are arguing who has to sit in the middle/next to happy pills Parker.

[midnightquips]

Dangerously Close

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky & Y/N are undeniably attracted to each other. Seemingly the only way these two are getting together is with some extreme meddling.

Themes: mutual pining, teasing teammates, possessive Bucky, Thunderbolts chaos, friends-to-lovers-but-stupid about it, pining (a lot)

🔴 MINORS DNI 🔴 Warnings: 18+ content, eventual smut, dirty talk, praise kink, jealousy, soft aftercare, pwp, piv sex, unprotected sex

💫 Dangerously Close Masterlist 📌 Sign Up for TAGLIST

Chapter 1: Sparks & Sandwiches

Part I

Breathing is a regular bodily function. Supposedly easy. An unconscious action. But for some reason, Bucky Barnes makes you overly aware of yours. He doesn’t do it on purpose, but when he’s lounging in the training room, built like a Greek statue, it just seems to… happen. Adding to the fact that he randomly calls you sweetheart with that stupid crooked grin, your stomach just can’t help but flutter when he’s around. 

You’re currently busy pretending to not look at him while you stretch on the mat. Whether you’re succeeding is questionable. 

Bucky is across the gym, holding a punch bag steady while John Walker lays into it like he’s got something to prove–which, frankly, he always does.

His gaze flicks towards you, just for a second. You should have looked away in embarrassment but don’t want to make it seem that you were stealing glances, so you give him a small smile instead. He reciprocates warmly.

You’re snapped out of the little moment when Yelena murmurs mid-lunge beside you, “You’re not subtle.”

“What?” you reply innocently, through cheeks burning

Yelena makes a face, “Don’t think this thing–” motioning her head between you and Bucky, “–is very unnoticeable.”

You roll your eyes, “You’re a super spy. Everything is noticeable to you. Your mind is almost making things up.”

“Yet you’re a super spy and you still can’t figure out he’s into you.” It’s Yelena’s turn to roll her eyes

“He flirts with everyone. You’ve seen him. I’m not reading into it.” 

Yelena snorts. “Sure. That’s why he lets you throw him across the mat without complaint. Totally something he does with everyone.”

Your eyes narrow. “I’m strong.”

“Yes, you are, but that’s not the point.” She pauses, lips curling into a teasing smirk. “He clearly enjoys the straddling way more than he should.”

You nearly lose your balance.

Across the room, Bucky definitely notices.

Bucky is convinced his willpower is being tested.

He’s resting against the far wall of the gym, towel slung around his neck. He watches you carefully as you move through your warm-up with Yelena. Your current position–on your knees, pushing your body forward, chest facing up–makes Bucky swallow hard. It pulls at something primal inside him.

Bucky has seen hundreds of women in gym clothes. But for some reason, you in tight black leggings and a loose tank top knotted at your waist has him on edge. Maybe it’s because he’s imagined your body too many times and every time you wear this, it confirms even more how stunning you were. He adores every inch of you, but your thighs haunt him most nights. Thick, strong and always on display in your training gear. 

He wants–no, prays to feel them wrapped around his waist. His shoulders. His face.

“Jesus,” he mutters under his breath, adjusting the towel to cover his reaction.

“You good?” Bob Reynolds appears beside him like a blond, nosy ghost.

“Fine.”

“Mmm.” Bob’s smile is too knowing. “You keep staring like you’re writing poetry in your head.”

“Shut up.”

“Are you writing poetry in your head?”

“No.” Bucky watches you laugh at something Yelena says, a dimple flashing in your cheek. His stomach tightens.

“Because I could help you rhyme something with thighs.”

“Bob, I swear to God.”

Training always brings out the best and worst in you. You enjoy sparring. You like the burn in your muscles and learning new techniques you’ve never considered. You specifically loved the way your body can do things now that it couldn’t months ago. The real cherry on top was sparring with Bucky. 

Which is also a real dilemma. Because he’s stupid hot but also stupid skilled.

And, worst of all, he lets you win. A flattery and an insult rolled into one.

“You’re pulling your punches again,” you say, landing on your back after a takedown you know he could’ve blocked.

Bucky stands over you, offering his hand. “Maybe you’re just too good, sweetheart.”

You narrow your eyes but take his hand. His grip is firm, warm, and way too steady. “You know, most people don’t flirt while getting their ass handed to them.”

He helps you up slowly, like it’s an excuse to let his hand linger. “Only with you.”

Your brain short-circuits. You laugh it off, rolling your eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”

Behind you, Yelena raises both eyebrows and mouths, Oh my god.

The compound smells like heaven that evening. 

You’re occupied in the kitchen, hair up, apron on while music is softly playing in the background. Steaks searing in the iron pan & vegetables roasting in the oven, while you quickly check on the saffron rice on the stove. 

You taste a small spoon of the rice and nod your head in approval, knowing the team would love it. Cooking grounds you. Moving through the kitchen with ease makes this place feel like home.

A hand brushes your lower back. You only know one person stealthy enough to sneak up behind you. 

“Smells good, doll.”

Bucky stands behind you, chest lightly pressed on your back as he peeks over your shoulder. He leans close enough that you feel the heat of his voice on your cheeks. Tempting you to almost lean back. 

You try not to look at him. Breezy, cool on the front. Melting inside. “Hope you’re hungry.”

He pulls back and leans on the counter beside so he has a full view of you. The short cotton dress you’re wearing makes you look more homey, inviting thoughts of domestic life into Bucky’s brain. He crosses his arms and looks at you with a small smile, “I’m always hungry for your food.” 

You try to ignore the way your heart flips. “I’m not serving you food unless you’ve showered.” 

“It was quick. Didn’t want to miss you.” He says warmly

He says it only with a hint of teasing that it almost makes you pause. Almost. “Perhaps some distance will do us some good.”

“I would say more dangerous than good.” 

Your eyebrows scrunch in confusion, “What does that mean?”

“Can’t be any more fonder of you than I already am.” 

It doesn’t mean anything. A simple reminder to yourself, before you turn back to the shelf beside the stove, trying to grab a spice from the top. 

Bucky doesn’t even ask, just simply takes his place behind you once more, hand bracing your waist as he easily grabs the jar from above your head. He keeps his hand on your waist while pushing the spice into your hand. 

“Here,” he says softly, voice a little lower

You take it almost reluctantly. Not realizing you’d been holding your breath. This man was definitely determined to kill you. 

You’re snapped into returning to the cooking when he finally releases you. He decides to give you space by sitting at the kitchen island, but contrary to what you claimed earlier, you’re not quite sure the distance was really doing any good in this situation.

Dinner is chaos in the best way. 

Alexei continuously praises your steak, declaring it “better than any American restaurant” while John asks for seconds before finishing his first plate. Yelena is busy asking why you never opened your own place, which she does every time. Bob makes a dad-joke about the saffron being “worth its weight in gold,” and Ava offers to do dishes as she requests you make paella again next week.

Bucky doesn’t say much, only looks at you the whole time. 

He finally speaks when dinner has wrapped up. He asks if you want help in the kitchen. You don’t see it but Yelena has signaled the team to leave when she overhears this. John smirks at the meddling. 

You stand side by side at the sink. Bucky washing the dishes and you drying it. 

“Thanks for cooking. I would say it’s delicious, but I think having no leftover already signals that” he says.

You smile. “It’s nothing. I like feeding you guys.”

“You don’t have to do it all the time.”

“I want to. Feeding people is... comforting.” You pause, then tease, “Unless you’re offering to cook next time.”

“Only if you want me to burn pasta and set off the fire alarm.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Hard pass.”

He likes the way your eyes light up when you laugh. He’s so gone.

There’s a bit of pause when you decide to ask, “Bucky, you date a lot?”

Bucky blinks in surprise, “What?”

You shrug, focusing on piling the plates back in the cabinet. “Just curious. You seem like... the type who does well. You know.”

He’s quiet for a beat. “Why do you think that?”

“You flirt with everyone. You’ve got the arms. The eyes. The mysterious brooding past.”

His tone shifts, softer. “Y/N.”

You look over, taken aback by the seriousness painted on his face.

He simply says, “I don’t flirt with everyone.”

Your breath catches, unsure of what to make of his response. He’s still watching you and there’s palpable tension.

Yelena’s voice breaks the moment as she calls from the hall: “When are you two gonna fuck already?”

You drop the plate.

Bucky turns red.

[ghettogirly]

how do you think armando would react if y’all had the most passionate sex and you left in the middle of the night, acted like nothing had happened at work

𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐎𝐍:

-> synopsis. you and armando had the best night, yet, why do you still choose to pretend to not feel the same?

-> pairing: 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐗 𝐅𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐄 𝐎𝐂 “𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐀“

-> warning: heavy smut, slight dumbification, mix of bodily fluids, unprotected sex (wrap it up!!), angst, mature language, Selena is really annoying, Minors DNI.

-> authors note: thanks for requesting, hope you enjoy! this is probably my proudest work yet. If anyone wants to be apart of my taglist, comment below.

𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆: Screwin - Summer Walker ft. Omarion.

[🕷️]

𝐅𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄

𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐊 and red roses slowly glided off the duvet as he moves up and down, matching the male’s thrusts into the helpless girl beneath. Triads of gasps and moans filled the room as the two made love, slaps echoed throughout while the two lovers’ skin connected with each other.

The connections created a white ring around the latino’s cock, caused by the mix of juices between the woman and him. Selena’s back arched as she gripped on the man’s broad shoulders, giving him small, red scratches that would probably lift up by tomorrow.

“Fuck… just like that.” She breathed, running his hands through his hair as he continued to thrust into her.

“You like that?”

Selena doesn’t even have time to answer, the man diving into her neck. Kissing her soft, melanated skin while he leaves a trail of burgundy marks. He quickens his pace, pushing his whole length inside of her, bottoming her out causing her to whine out in pleasure and a little bit of pain. “Ohhh, fuck!”

“You’re taking me so well baby..”

He laughed at your whining, enjoying seeing you lose yourself further and further for him, seeing yourself get frustrated. “You’re so fucking wet..” biting her earlobe ever so gently as he speeds up his pace. His cock pistoning in and out of you cashing him to grunt, losing the ability to control himself more and more.

“Oh fuck baby, please please please..” Selena babbles, the pleasure now being the only feeling there as it clouds her mind. This being the only thing now controlling her cognition and behaviour.

“Agárrate por mí, nena, ya casi estoy ahí..”

“I can’t, i can’t!”

A random act stops her continuous period of babbling, feeling something enter her mouth. It was his thumb, he quickly pulled it out, it making a small ‘Pop!’ sound while a string of saliva comes with it. Dropping on the woman’s exposed torso. Too blinded by the pleasure going on within her, she fails to recognise what he’s just done, until she feels it.

Wet trails of just saliva lead from the top of her vagina to the clit as he slowly presses on it and starts running gently. Armando wraps his one arm around your shoulders as he now continues to pound into the hispanic woman while circling her clit, sending shockwaves through her body due to the temperature play demonstrated by the man. The hot sensation of your clit contrasts with the cool temperature of your man’s thumb, causing them little hairs on your body to stand up, generating goosebumps. Selena’s jet black hair sticks to the pillow as the sweat generating from her head creates a glue type consistency onto the silk pillow behind her.

Her eyes roll back and she stops clawing on the males back, instead throwing her arms to the sides of her. The emotions of arousal causing her to submit to them being too much for the poor girl. Pulsating on the latino’s dick, her lips part. “I can’t wait, i need to..”

The man looks into her eyes. Her heterochromatic eyes stare right back at him. A connection of lust, passion, and weirdly enough, love. Leaning forward, Armando embraces her into a kiss, roughly attacking her lips like a wild animal chasing its prey. Not getting enough of her taste. The woman engages with it just as hard, seeming as if though, she does not want to let him go either. His thrusts become more erratic, clearly reaching his climax too.

“Let’s do it together baby, i’m going to cum in you so fucking bad. i need to-“

“Oh fuck!!”

Without warning, a rush of pleasure cascades down the light-skinned girl, causing her toes to curl as she releases all her juices on him. The woman’s orgasm elicited a sense of relief from the latinx male as he too begins to move faster, his skin slapping against hers before releasing his load into her. His pace begins to slow down, his hips still jolting but dying down ever so slightly. “te sientes tan bien nena..” Armando whispered to the exhausted woman below.

“I fucking love you.”

[🕷️]

𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐋𝐘 3 am in the morning. Selena looked to the left of her and saw a muscular arm over her stomach with the caramel toned male, nuzzling into her neck. His expression was unreadable but he seemed to be at peace with the slow, shallow breathing he did. Finally having a good nights sleep, the first in a while.

Still, even with the comfort of the man lying next to her, she felt ashamed to be here. Or yet, embarrassed. She slept with her boss’s son again. Only supposed to be a one time thing, yet, she foolishly agreed to be friends with benefits. However now, her feelings were involved. She was confused on what to do..

Sighing, she slowly removed his arm before throwing a shirt over her. Selena began to collect her things, guilt washing over her face as she looked back at the male.

He was still sleeping, his pink lips slightly parted as he begins to exhale out of his mouth too.

“I knew i shouldn’t have done this..” The woman whispered to herself, holding the silver crusted pendant that was hanging off her neck, the one Armando got her. Sadness began to creep down her as she basked in her thoughts, negative thoughts at that. “You’re leading him on, he deserves for you to tell him straight up.”

But, how was she leading him on if she loved him too?

How does she love him, if one day she pretends she hates him?

How do you love him if you feel like you’ve sinned after making love?

A deep voice suddenly breaks her train of thought as she hears a ruffle of sheets on the bed and someone clearing their throat. “What are you doing mamí..?”

Selena looks at him with regret filling her eyes, the brown iris now illuminating as the male turns on the lamp next to him.

“Armando..”

“¿De verdad estás huyendo de nuevo?”

“I am not running away. Don’t fucking insult me like that. We haven’t even established what we are, are we lovers, friends with benefits or am i just a girl you use whenever you’re bored!”

“I just fucking said i love you, dejar de tratar de jugar a la víctima. To think that the first time you did this i thought you was overwhelmed because of how sudden it was.”

“You could’ve just said that in the moment-“

“SHUT UP!” Anger boomed from his voice as he shouted, knocking the lamp over in the process as he looked at you with rage but love in his eyes. “Do not try and manipulate me just because you are confused with what you want.”

That silenced her. At a loss for words, she didn’t even bother saying anything else. Was she really manipulative?

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐄. Not only was she ignoring Armando, still hurt about what he said, he was ignoring her too. Making her job easier, which only hurt her more. Was Selena upset because he was right? She loved him so much but why did she not show him that?

Every-time the group had to talk, they would sit apart from each other. Group celebrations were awkward too, Armando didn’t even glance at the poor girl, treating her as if she didn’t even exist. A game that she started, ended up being ran by the true player as she realised she could never beat him in his own game.

She noticed. As did everyone else too. It wasn’t until Kelly had to ask you what was wrong was where you just fell apart. “I fucked up so so bad Kelly. He hates me.” She sobbed into her hands, her hair a mess as sadness yet desperation hung over her head. All the other woman could do was comfort her as she cried into her arms.

Little did she know there was someone behind that door who heard it all.

However, footsteps trailed away from the door, leaving the love they had behind.

[🕷️] 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒:

“Agárrate por mí, nena, ya casi estoy ahí”-Hold on for me, baby, i’m almost there

“te sientes tan bien nena..”- You feel so good baby..

“¿De verdad estás huyendo de nuevo?” - Are you really running away again?

“dejar de tratar de jugar a la víctima.” - Do not try and play the victim.

[shamrockqueen]

Omega retreat chapter 12

Pairing : Alpha Bucky x Omega Reader

Warnings : R18, fluff, descriptions of nudity

Word count : 1645

Bucky Masterlist

AO3 Link

Chapter 1 : Chapter 11

Your thighs felt sticky, mired with drying sweat and the slick dribble of his seed.

You tried to flex your legs, waking to the various cracks and pops of your weary bones. Your skin was chilled, small bursts of heat prickling against the cold morning air before bursting over your body as you slowly started to wake. Your vision seemed cloudy, the green trees blurring out and the daylight slipping past nearly unnoticed.

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d left this bed, couldn’t remember your last meal, or any moment your belly was filled by food. Nothing had been more important than chasing that heated high and satiating that needy little monster within you, and for now she was so eerily quiet.

What day was it now, and which morning was this?

Your aching head swam with half-cocked thoughts as you fought to kick the sheets that stuck to your damp body. Glowing memories of nights previous echoed against each throbbing corner of your brain. There were his slow moments, moving languidly like a blur. A soft caress of your tits, a thumb brushing a sensitive bud before rolling it between his fingers. It was all so raw, so hungry; it was something so beautifully savage.

You barely recalled the things he’d whispered, his growls deafened by his lips being pressed to your skin, leaving you polka-dotted with reds and purples sucked on or bitten into.

But, he’d said many of the things you should have expected from an alpha losing himself inside an omega. He was tempting you, asking that if you had the chance to be filled and bred, whether you’d let yourself grow big and round with his baby. Would you glow like they say women do? A happy, shining ember as a new life burned in your belly.

You shivered with every word of his you could recall. Every fantasy he lets you live. You’ve been allowed to do so much living after just meeting him in person. It really felt like a new lease on life, a new sensation of pleasure you’d never thought you’d feel.

Maybe you could, if you wanted, have a little family of your own. Maybe feel like an omega instead of an outsider holding one within.

Another knot, another bitten bruise left on your body. It was something you never thought you’d feel, and for the first time you were swimming peacefully through your heat instead of drowning. You felt real pleasure instead of a mindless pain that waxed and waned on the few times you allowed yourself a plastic knot. No, this was pleasure melting all over your body like the spread of dark chocolate lapped up by the flick of his hot tongue.

He was still sleeping, body slung over his side of the bed in a vulnerable lack of poise he could only afford while in a deep state of slumber. His hair was fanned around his face, a few stray tangles poking in either direction, and you felt emboldened to reach out and flick one around your middle finger.

You decide instead to finally leave the bed and venture into the bathroom for more than basic bodily functions. You definitely needed a shower, reeking of sex so good it made your head spin. A thick mix of slick and cum coupled with the twisting of your scent as it was invaded by his.

But, for now, you’d settle for brushing your teeth at the little sink, digging a lifting into your hygiene bag for some basic toiletries.

You don’t notice any discrepancies as you sought out a simple tube of toothpaste and its adjoining brush. Something just to help you feel fresh, maybe a little cleaner.

Same routine, different location, and you flow through the motions like it’s any morning before work. Minus your daily dose of caffeine, not that it would make you feel any more revived after all the strenuous exercise you’d gotten within such a small span of time.

Brush in circles, rinse with water, and spit. Your head is down, expelling the foaming mint spread to spatter into the porcelain bowl. You turned the knob at the sink to collect enough water to woosh and spit before standing back up to inspect your lips for smudges or toothpaste in the mirror.

You nearly leapt out of your skin at the sight of a large figure standing behind you in your reflection, a jolt of fear vibrating through you so quickly it was like a small shock of electricity before you recognized the face of this tall man.

“Jesus, you scared me.” You give him a laugh of relief, something small with a deep exhale from the breath you’d been holding.

“Sorry, doll.” Bucky smiled as he spoke, rubbing the sleep from one of his eyes before stepping up to slip his arms around your small shoulders.

“How’d you sleep?” He breathes each word along the tender skin behind your ear, fanning past your warm cheek.

Even after a short reprieve, you can say you didn’t miss this. Having him nearby, skin to skin, having him pressed to you as he made any old remnants of strife that dared to follow you seem smaller and smaller until it shrank away to nothing. You’d love to get used to this feeling.

“Like the dead.” You laughed moreso to yourself as you cupped some of the running water into your palm to clean up the spatters of white and blue you’d left behind in the sink.

You heard Bucky’s soft rumble of a laugh at yourself, and you finally looked back up at him. Your soft smile fell away with awe as you took in the entirety of him as his back was facing towards you. You’ve seen him in varying states of undress, even held his naked body against yours and felt nearly every inch with your small, nimble fingers.

But this, this was the whole masterpiece you had only seen in small patches of paint. Taut and tightly corded muscles along either side of his thick back. His ass looked soft like carefully sculpted marble, but with a quick flex of one of his powerful legs, you watched slack-jawed as the muscle made the cheek bob just once.

You let yourself overindulge in the sight, blissfully unaware that as his body turned and the front of him became visible, he very easily caught you staring. You couldn’t pry your eyes away, not when the chiseled planes of his stomach and abdominal muscles all came into view.

He smiles that sexy, sweet grin, smug at the lingering stare of admiration as it fanned his ego, all before clearing his throat to break the spell he seemed to unintentionally cast upon you.

You blink back, realizing you were ogling this man who’d already given himself to you as if he were a rare slab of marbled beef.

“Oh fuck, m’sorry.” You sputtered out as you busied your fingers to knock the water off your brush before putting it away.

Bucky’s eyes lingered on you for the split second your digits had dipped into that small hygiene bag. Letting out a bated breath when you zipped it shut without any further investigation.

His smile reappeared, bubbling into a soft chuckle. “No, it’s fine. You can look all you want, babe."

He leaned in past the glass door to the shower, turning the knob to ignite the showerhead with a downpour of hot water. This was before he turned back with that delicious grin.

“But, you don’t have to just stare.” His voice rumbled through the air with a low purr.

“Hm?” You were so far out of your element without the cloud of heat forcing you to reach for the things you desired most. You didn’t have to give a passing glance; you’ve been doing far more than just looking at this man for the better part of the last few days.

“Care to join me?” He asked, snapping your focus back into this beautiful reality with the lilt of his voice.

“Oh? Really?” You squeaked back, a bit of disbelief.

You never ceased to amuse him, a sentiment that was easily heard as he continued to speak. “There’s that shy girl I met, I was wondering when I’d see her again.”

“I’m sorry..it’s just.”

“No, don’t apologize. It’s cute.” His long lashes fluttered, fanning the warm blue of his eyes as he looked you over, taking in each nervous step as well as the small dribble of sweat that trailed down from your hair to hide behind your neck.

“It’s much different than the omega that tried to claw her way under my clothes.”

“I wasn’t myself, I guess.” You held onto the sink as you batted back in the conversation, better to steady yourself.

“It’s still you, doll. Just another side.” The soft tap of his toes hitting the tiled floor thrummed in your ears, in contrast to his previous covert steps as he slowly strides closer.

“I like them both.” He hummed, reaching over the small sink to cup his hand over top of yours, pressing warmth into your already tepid skin before pushing your fingers from the granite to sweep them into his grasp.

“Thank you..You don’t know how much that means to me.” The words stumbled off your tongue, they seemed so silly to say after the last couple of days.

His grin seemed to waver, something heavy weighing on it so that it dropped only slightly before swept his tongue between his lips to push the pressure away.

“So..you gonna join me? I’d love the company.”

He waited, one foot pointed outward as he was ready to hear you whisper ‘Yes’ so he could wish you away under the warm downpour of the shower and tight squeeze of his welcoming embrace.

Chapter 13

Tags : @meowmeowyoongles @black-cat-2 @cjand10 @bethyruth @scott-loki-barnes @wintrsoldrluvr @buckysdoll85 @lendeluxe @meowmeowyoongles @magnoliamermaid @heletsmelovehim @mcira @buckysbaby-doll @serendipitouslife90 @unicornicopia1 @animegirlgeeky @matchat3a @darkdemeter @iwudbutnah @winterslove1917 @daddytonysgirl17 @jvanilly @kandis-mom @onyxwolf @thebuckybarnesvault @nicestgirlonline @jbuckybarnesfan @val-writesstuff @ozwriterchick @bumblee-beezzz @cringeycookies @castiels-favorite-hunter @bohemianrhapsody86 @lillianacristina @cadencejames87 @teambarnes72 @ashychangeling @samuelkwinchester @nightofthesea @blackbirdwitch22 @mizunogamii @snapcapquartet @openup-yourmind @ashychangeling @krissydclayton93 @rivernell @futuristiczipperpeachcash

[deezee112]

The ending 5 : Sugar Without Sweetness

Masterlist | Ending 4 | Ending 6

Yandere!Platonic!Trey Clover x GN!kid!Reader

A/N : He's a character I really like, but I just couldn't figure out how to write him well. So, I hope you enjoy it anyway!

Warning : Emotional manipulation , Implied obsessive behavior , Non-consensual restraint ( tying someone to a chair ) , Force-feeding , Mild psychological horror , Mentions of loss of bodily autonomy

Tags :

@sherryclover @creativecupcake @hsjdhehsjssj @neufora

If you want me to tag you please tell me.

English is not my first language.

" My name is Trey. " he said, gentle, his smile mild, practiced. “ And I’ll be taking care of you from now on, alright? ”

You were too young to understand how lonely you had become. All you saw was that the doll your mother gave you the one she chose instead of coming home looked so much like a real person it made your chest twist. He was tall. Neat. Calm.

His hand was warm when he reached out to you. Not like plastic. Not like a toy.

“ Would you like some cake? ” he asked with a pleasant voice.

You blinked up at him, too stunned to nod. But you didn’t run.

Not this time.

You were ten the first time he taught you how to roll dough. His hands hovered gently over yours as you pressed the rolling pin, flour smudging your cheeks and nose. He chuckled, brushing your bangs back with a tender thumb.

“ You’re really good at this. ” he praised, patting your head.

The sugar cookies came out soft and warm, vanilla-scented and perfect.

For a moment, the kitchen felt like a real home. Not empty. Not cold.

Later that night, your mom came home, saw the neatly arranged cookies in heart shapes, and smiled faintly.

“ These look expensive. ” she commented, tasting one. “ You bought them? ”

You opened your mouth to speak, but Trey stepped in first with a polite laugh. “ No, she made them herself. I just supervised. ”

“ Oh… ” your mom blinked. “ Good job, y/n. ”

That was the only praise you got.

But Trey’s smile didn’t waver. He handed you another cookie and whispered, “ I’m proud of you. ”

You smiled back at him. Just a little.

Trey didn’t get angry.

He didn’t yell. He didn’t lose control.

He corrected.

When you left your room messy, he didn’t raise his voice. He calmly cleaned it for you and said, “ It’s okay. I’ll help you next time. ”

When you forgot to eat, he placed your lunch in front of you and watched until every bite was gone.

When you tried to lock your door once just to be alone for a little while he stood outside it for three hours without moving.

“ Are you okay? ” he asked once you opened it.

You nodded, but your skin prickled.

His eyes were kind. Always kind. But too still. Too deep.

Like water with something sinking beneath.

“ You’re growing so fast. ” he murmured one day while brushing your hair. “ Soon, you’ll be taller than me. ”

You were twelve now. Older. Sharper.

Something in your chest was beginning to ache. You loved him you really did but it felt like loving a shadow that never let you breathe.

He made you bento lunches with your favorite foods. He left notes on your schoolbooks with puns and hearts. But he was always there.

Always.

One day, you forgot to take the lunch he made you and bought food from the school store instead.

That night, the dinner was cold.

He didn’t sit across from you like he usually did.

He just stood at the kitchen counter, silent, washing the dishes before they were even dirty.

You tried to speak.

“ Sorry. I didn’t mean to— ”

“ No, no. ” he interrupted with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “ It’s okay. I just…I guess I thought you liked my cooking. ”

Your throat tightened. “ I do… ”

He turned off the water and looked at you.

There was a pause.

A beat too long.

“ Next time. ” he said gently, “ just let me know if you don’t need me anymore. ”

The day had been silent from the start. No music in the kitchen. No quiet humming. No questions like “ Did you sleep well? ” or “ Want to help me bake today? ”

Only Trey’s slippers brushing over the wooden floor. The click of porcelain. The occasional whistle from the kettle. The house was clean, neat, as always but sterile. Cold.

You had just come back from school, late. Too late.

You’d stayed with a classmate. One of the only ones who smiled at you lately. You’d shared a sandwich and laughed.

When you opened the front door, you found him sitting at the table. Still. Hands clasped. Eyes calm.

“ Trey...? ” you said cautiously.

He looked up, smiling faintly.

“ You’re late. ”

There was no anger in his voice. Just something quieter. Something tight.

You tried to lighten the mood. “ Yeah…I stayed behind. Group project. Sorry I didn’t text. ”

He tilted his head. “ Ah. A group project. ”

“ Yeah.... ”

A long silence passed. The kind where even your breath felt too loud.

Then he said, “ I packed you lunch today. You didn’t eat it. ”

Your stomach twisted.

“ I forgot... ”

Another silence.

You moved to the kitchen, pretending not to notice how his eyes followed you. You were just going to get water. That’s all. But your fingers drifted to the drawer the one where the knives were to cut a pear.

Just a pear.

But then his hand was there. Already on yours.

Not harsh. But firm.

“ Trey—? ”

“ Careful. ” he murmured. “ That’s sharp. ”

“ I wasn’t gonna hurt myself. ”

“ I know. ” His voice was still sweet. “ But sometimes…people don’t know what they’re capable of until it’s too late. ”

You blinked up at him. His face was calm, but his eyes they were studying you. Watching. Too closely.

“ I just wanted fruit.. ”

A pause.

Then his voice, weak. Quiet. “ ...Were you with him? ”

You froze.

“ What? ”

“ The boy. The one who’s been giving you candy every day. ”

You pulled your hand back.

“ He’s just nice to me. Is that a crime? ”

“ No. ” Trey said quickly. “ No. I didn’t mean it like that. I just…I thought you liked baking. I thought…we were fine. ”

You didn’t know what to say.

He rubbed the back of his neck and laughed, but it cracked halfway out. “ Stupid, right? Getting jealous over a kid. ”

“ Trey— ”

“ I didn’t mean to sound controlling. ” he interrupted, voice fragile. “ I know I mess up. But I…I didn’t think you’d pull away like this. ”

You stood there in silence. He looked so pitiful. But something in you couldn’t forget the way he grabbed your wrist. The way his voice got too soft when he was angry.

“ Maybe we need some space... ” you muttered.

He froze.

Then, softly broken “ ...Space? ”

You stepped back.

“ l-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it in a bad way..! ”

He stared at you for a long, long moment.

And then he smiled.

But this smile was different.

Not kind.

Not sad.

Just…quiet.

It was two nights later.

You woke up dizzy. Head pounding. Ankles burning.

You were tied to a chair. Soft cloth bindings around your wrists and legs. Not rough but tight. Like someone trying to be gentle and controlling at the same time.

“ Trey...? ” you croaked.

He turned from the kitchen, apron tied around his waist, hands dusted with flour.

“ Good morning. ” he said cheerfully. “ You slept a little long, so I made breakfast. ”

Your eyes widened as he approached.

“ Wha—why am I—? ”

“ I panicked. ” he confessed, placing a tray in front of you. “ You said ‘space,’ and I didn’t know what that meant. I thought maybe I was losing you. ”

“ Trey, please untie me— ”

“ I made your favorites. ” he interrupted, forcing a smile. “ Except I changed the recipes. I thought you might like a new twist. Try it, okay? ”

He pressed a spoon to your lips.

You turned your head away.

But he gently held your chin.

“ Come on, y/n.. ” he whispered. “ I made this with love. ”

You took a bite.

And immediately gagged.

You couldn’t tell what it was. The sweetness was bitter. The bitterness was chemical. Like he’d mixed salt with syrup, or something worse.

“ Trey—this is—! ”

“ You used to love my sweets. ” he said quietly. “ You used to smile when I fed you. ”

“ That was before you tied me up! ”

His hand trembled.

But he smiled again.

“ You’re just upset. It’s okay. I’ll stay with you until you feel better. I’ll take care of everything. ”

He forced another spoonful into your mouth.

Then another.

You wanted to scream.

But your throat was full.

Every bite made your stomach churn. Your vision swam. The taste was so awful you wondered if it was even food anymore.

He kept feeding you.

Slowly.

Delicately.

Until your body couldn’t even twitch anymore.

“ I’m sorry.. ” he whispered, kissing your forehead as you slumped against the ropes. “ I’ll do better next time. I’ll make it perfect. Just…don’t ask me for space again, okay? ”

The tray clinked as he set it aside.

The lights dimmed.

He cleaned up the dishes with the same care he always did.

And in the quiet hum of the house, you sat tied in silence the taste of sugar still burning your tongue.

[buglass]

Just a Little Bit

Summary: You can’t stand it any longer; after a long day of watching Elvis film his latest beach flick Blue Hawaii in 1961, you take matters into your own hands and give him bodily appreciation--specifically to his thighs.

Pairing: Elvis Presley x Reader

WC: ~1K

Warnings: 18+ - Smut: oral, dry humping, kissing, and suggestive language.

A/N: A girl can dream.

Based on this post here.

The two of you, Elvis and yourself, were tangled in the sheets without a care. You never believed someone like Elvis, a celebrity, would be possible to run into casually and later interest. The second you both locked eyes on one another, Elvis quickly decided to pursue you during his late lunch break for Blue Hawaii. Ever since you spotted his long, tanned legs being held together by his all-too-fitting swim shorts--you were feening for a bite to either quad or hamstring. You didn’t know why Elvis did it for you in that instant--plenty of men wore the same sort of bathing suit--but you weren’t ashamed to have the opportunity. That’s how you wound up in one of the few empty hotel rooms, post-check-out of the original guests, you cleaned and serviced.

“You sure no one is comin’ around?” Elvis asked between kisses.

“Promise. I’m the only one working this side of the hotel,” you reassured.

You were sat atop Elvis and hunched forward as the two of you locked lips. Though you’re both mostly clothed, he managed to strip some items away from your body; leaving you in just your maid’s skirt and bra. You liked the control, rubbing where you needed him most between your legs against the ever-growing bulge that formed beneath his trunks. Elvis watched you, his lips curled as airy moans withered past his lips. He still wore the captain’s hat you found him in earlier and that somehow also did it for you. Elvis’ unwavering desire leaving him too distracted to undress himself made you feel you had control of his libido. 

You undid the little knot he tied at the front of his shirt, the floral pattern wrinkled once it was free. Elvis watched on with bright eyes, your careful but pressing fingers rubbing into his skin. You leaned down to latch your mouth onto one nipple, making him gasp. Elvis could hardly resist the small upward turn of his lips and the lines forming on either side of his mouth. Your hips didn’t stop rolling against him either, a small promise of what was to come. Elvis was silently taken aback by your forwardness as he usually was the one to kiss a girl all over and make her sing for him. You smirk as you move to his other nipple, lashing it with barely-there whippings of your tongue that make Elvis groan and take your waist into both hands to rub your heat against his cock. 

“I should be careful… I don’t know how I’m gonna explain coming in my bathin’ suit if we keep at it,” Elvis panted.

“I won’t let that happen,” you smile.

Lifting your head fully, you begin scooting back down the bed along his legs and kicking the sheets clinging to you both. Elvis looks curious as you slide lower and lower, leaving kisses across his stomach. When you hook your fingers into his shorts he groans as his dick springs free and he obliges by lifting his legs to rid of them. He sits up temporarily to remove the rest of his clothing, including his hat, and lays back down. You were new and shiny, but seldom did a woman handle him like you did. You weren’t shy to grab his cock by its base, spitting onto it and licking a stripe along the underside before you began stroking his uncut length. There was a point where you weren’t sure if Elvis was fucking into your hand or your wrist tugged at him excitably. 

Elvis tried reaching for you between your legs but settled for your breasts instead as it was too far, squeezing and massaging at one while you took charge. His legs were spread for you now and his cheeks, neck, and chest grew red as you dipped your head to nip at the inside of his thigh. The twenty-six-year-old made a noise that sounded as if he didn’t think was possible. Elvis hissed when you moved to the opposite thigh, biting and sucking at muscular and equally supple skin.

“Oh, shit,” Elvis whispered.

He might not have known your name without looking at the name tag on your shirt, but he sure as hell wouldn’t forget the way your plush lips looked on him. You slowed your hand around him and his cock twitched against your insistent hold. You didn’t mind the hair of his legs against your tongue, he wasn’t very hairy at all. Besides, for you, seeing the Great Elvis Presley fold and whimper because of your touch did it for you alone. When you could tell he was going to come from your ministrations, you aimed for much more sensitive spots closer to his pubic bone. The scent of him was much more potent there. His breaths came faster, prompting you to lap and suck at his balls in favor of his orgasm. 

Elvis dropped a hand to the side of your face, stroking it a few times before sliding up into your hair for something to hold on to. Anyone else touching your hair would have had a stern talking-to for messing it up. You watched Elvis from below as he softly begged or questioned if he should come. He wasn’t the type to want to leave a woman dissatisfied but you were so sure about getting him off only. 

“Oh, you suck me so good, honey,” Elvis hissed. “I need your mouth on my cock. Don’t wanna make a mess.”

You moan against his sac one last time before assisting Elvis, closing your lips around the head. He fucks into your mouth shallowly, his face soon contorting as he ground his teeth and tossed his head back. You feel his seed spill into the back of your throat, causing you to gag, and instead push him deeper into your throat. His dick pulses, coating your throat with spurt after spurt. Only when he’s spent and whimpering from sensitivity do you remove your mouth from him and swallow. 

“Goddamn,” Elvis laughs breathily.

“I couldn’t help myself,” you grin, moving from between his legs.

“Where ya goin’? We aren’t finished yet, come sit on my face, honey.” 

[multifandomfanficss]

Don’t Be Embarrassed

Sam Riordan x Reader

Prompt: You take care of Sam and he takes care of you.

Warnings: autistic reader having an autistic meltdown, talk of mental hospitals, mentions of sex, walking in on friends having sex, spoilers for episode 4

A/N: Although there is no smut, because we’re only 4 episodes in and Sam doesn’t have a confirmed age I’m writing this under the assumption that he’s college age 18+. This boy is taking up most of my brain space this week. We don’t have a lot of info on the the character, but this is how I see his vibes. I crossposted this on my ao3 adriansglasses. Also this is my first non Adrian fic in quite sometime! Hope ya’ll enjoy!

You were on your way back from class when you heard yelling coming from down the hallway. You had been hanging out with Sam for the day and left him for two hours to go to class. You rushed to your dorm, quickly fishing out your keys.

“Hey hey hey what’s going on?” You asked him, placing your hands out, waiting to see if he’ll let you touch him.

“It was supposed to be a good day! A good day! But apparently I can’t even fucking do that!” He yells. The Woods had done a toll on him and he was still recovering. He had been doing a lot better lately, but everyone knows healing isn’t linear.

“Sam, it’s okay. You’re okay.” You give him a smile. “You had a good day yesterday and the day before that! It’s okay to have a bad day, Sam.”

“But I was doing so good…” He sounds defeated. You slowly grow closer to him. When he doesn’t back away you place a hand on his shoulder.

“I know and I’m so proud of you, but healing isn’t linear. There’s gonna be bad days. Even people who are… for lack of a better word ‘normal’ have bad days.” You roll your eyes and throw air quotes around the word normal. You didn’t always have the best words to describe what you were thinking, but Sam always knew what you meant. Usually college friendships and relationships formed and moved fast, but even with that Sam was different. You felt like you could be yourself around him in ways you couldn’t be around others.

It felt that way since the beginning. Sure the day you met Sam was overstimulating, rushed, and tense, but after you and your friends convinced him not to kill the doctor that completely ruined his life, you got to know him a little more the next day.

“So what’s your power?” He asks.

“What?”

“Your power. You must be a supe if you go to Godolkin.”

“Oh! Yeah uh…right… It’s stupid.” You sigh, avoiding eye contact. The gravel below your feet comes into detail. You pay attention to the sparkles of the rocks being hit by the sun instead of Sam.

“It can’t be that bad. Just tell me.” You can hear the smile in his voice.

“I uh… I feel like any way I word it will sound weird, but my bodily fluids are like acid, so uh like my tears and spit and stuff. Told you it was weird.”

“No! That’s cool! I’ve seen way worse. You should have seen some of my roommates at my old place.” He jokes. You laugh quietly with him.

“So all of your stuff is acid?” He asks. You nod.

“How do you pee? Do you just like melt toilets every time you piss?” He asks. You laugh.

“No, I guess my body has some way of controlling it, but I don’t know. I haven’t really figured it out consciously.”

“I was gonna say, that would be really cool if you could piss acid. Just like pee on all your enemies. That would be cool as fuck.” He laughs. You don’t know why at the time, but there’s just something so comforting about him.

“That’s gross. You’re sick.” You laugh.

“Oh trust me I know. You don’t go through multiple mental hospitals just being normal.”

You knew he was joking, but the way he said normal struck a cord in you. You didn’t see him as wrong, but you knew what he meant. You often felt… knew… you weren’t normal either.

You were there for Sam just as much as he was for you. It took you a long time to accept his help. It took a while for him to convince you that you weren’t a burden. The first time you had a meltdown in front of him was a very vulnerable moment for you. You hadn’t been that vulnerable with anyone like that in a long time.

“I’m gonna fucking kill them.” You fumed, pacing the room, so blinded by your anger you had forgotten you were with Sam. You had promised him you could watch Waterworld after class because you’d never seen it before and it was his favorite movie.

“She is such a fucking bitch. Why the fuck didn’t she fucking tell me?! She could have put a fucking sock on the door or sent a text or fucking something Jesus fucking Christ! Like I love her, but fuck!” You were beyond angry. After an already overstimulating day and a failed assignment handed back, you were already on edge before you walked in on Jordan and Marie. Now sexiled to the lounge while your roommate finishes with his girlfriend, not caring about your plans at all.

“I fucking told him too! I told him you were coming over!” You say, upset, and quite honestly still in shock, not expecting to see two of your friends fucking on a Tuesday afternoon.

“Maybe they just forgot.” Sam proposes.

“How could she fucking forget what time I come home every fucking Tuesday?!” You huff, sitting down on the couch. You sit in silence before thinking it over.

“No, you’re right… they probably just forgot…” You feel a pit in your stomach and tears starting to well up in your eyes. You try to keep them at bay. You don’t need an acid leak today. “Yeah Jordan totally forgot. Oh fuck. I shouldn’t have gotten so mad.” You feel your body crumbling in on itself. You hate getting mad. You were so scared of your own anger. You also felt like Jordan didn’t deserve it. Yeah he could be an ass sometimes, but Jordan was your roommate and your friend.

“Hey what’s going on you look upset- well more upset than you were before… okay maybe not more upset, but a different kind of upset…” Sam’s voice trails off. He wasn’t always the best with words either.

“I just feel so bad.” The tears start to slip down your face.

“Why do you feel bad? You just walked in on two of your friends having sex in your own room. It’s never happened to me, but I think it’s normal to be annoyed.” He sits down next to you. When he gets a closer look at your face he sees the red marks on your cheeks. You were used to the burn by now. You hated crying, but sometimes you couldn’t stop yourself. Sam moves to wipe away some of your tears.

“Doesn’t that hurt?” You ask.

“They used to electrocute me daily at the Woods. This is nothing.”

“I’m sorry.” The ache in your stomach grows. You feel like such a burden.

“Why are you sorry?” He asks.

“Because you shouldn’t have to deal with this.”

“I don’t have to do anything. I’m here because I want to be.” He smiles.

“But I’m too much. This is too much. You have your own shit to deal with. I’m so fucking sorry, Sam.” You try to hold back more tears. You feel awful.

“Hey, don’t apologize. You’ve done so much for me. You promised you’d always be there for me. Let me return the favor. You’re so kind to everyone, just let me be kind to you.”

“I’m sorry.” You whisper again in a broken voice.

“Why do you keep saying sorry? Are you embarrassed?” He asks. You nod.

“Don’t be embarrassed. Multiple mental hospitals, remember?” He jokes, making a face and pointing to himself. You laugh quietly.

“Just the life of a broken fucking brain.” He laughs, but there’s something sad underneath.

“You know I don’t think you’re a monster right?”

“Why are you bringing that up now?” He asks.

“Well sometimes I think you believe the doctors at the Woods a little too much. I just wanted to make sure you know that I know that you’re trying and you’re a good guy.” You smile.

“For what it’s worth I don’t think you’re a monster either. You think I’m a good guy, but I think you’re the goodest person I know.” He smiles. “Is goodest even a word?” He asks.

“I don’t think so, but I appreciate the compliment.” You smile. You don’t know when it happened, but you start to realize that Sam had successfully distracted you and calmed you from your meltdown. You find his arm around you, as you lean into him on the lounge couch.

“I’m so glad I met you.” He smiles.

“I’m so glad I met you too.”

[valentine-cafe]

🍒 𓂃 𝑶𝑹𝑫𝑬𝑹 𝑼𝑷 : dessert platter !! . . . multi ⊹ fainting prone reader .

. ᘛ 𝑓𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑖𝑛​​​​​​​𝑔﹕ multi

 𐔌𖹭 ˖ ࣪  who's that ?⠀﹕multiple characters

ּ  ֗ recepit ℘ ... how they react when you faint⊹ cw ٬٬ fainting . reader faints easily / has a condition that makes them prone to fainting .

﹙ Alessio 781. ﹚on the lookout 24/7 . . .

Wherever you are, he tends to roam. Always awaiting the moment you might faint. He has grown used to it in the sense he knows what to look out for. But the sight of you fainting is never truly going to be something he gets used to. He hates it.

Particularily during crowded days in the uni hallways. You are several feet ahead of him, close to your locker. You've just finished up an exam and now you want to take some time to simply relax. You didn't notice the overwhelming noises, smells and surroundings were affecting you greatly. Too busy trying to find your sketchbooks to sit and draw in.

Several people are shoved aside the moment Alessio catches sight of your eyes rolling back. You process finally. You are going to faint, and make an attempt to lean up against the locker. However, someone pushes you aside just a little and before you know it you're falling.

He knows you don't feel him. By the time his hands catch you in your fall. You are far gone. So he starts to carry you out of the hallway. Bags slung over his shoulders.

"Move out of the fucking way!"

Crowds split for him to come by before they reconnect. Confused chatter roam back to the usual hallway gossip and laughter once he reaches the door to outside.

"Alessio?"

Emerald eyes sweep the area to find a bench as you wake up and call out to him. Head spinning still. While the dizzy feel remains ever stubborn too.

"It's alright amorcito, just findin' a bench." He hums, as a rare, calm smile, settles on his features to ease your mind.

"How long was I out?"

"Pshhh. . . maybe a minute? Nothing much." The casual shrug is enough to let yourself calm a little. Your arms wrap around his neck, so your head may find it's spot against his chest. His heart singing for only your ears to hear.

"I'll get you some water alright? We just rest now."

  ﹙ Orion. ﹚quick and swift . . .

The admiral of the abyss is ever quick to make his way over to you when any signs begins showing up. Or if he knows what time of the day is, the instances. Everything.

He has observed you down to the core with such eye for every detail to assure that he catches you before you even turn a heel and fall to the ground. You're surprised. Everytime something is up with you he can tell before even you know.

You always assumed it was a draconic instinct, or angelic. Whichever one of them it was, did not matter. The amazement remained that he almost felt before you.

Each approach was always calm. Sometimes he wasn't even there with you in the same room nor realm, and you'd feel three pairs of wings wrap around you casually. Catching you in their soft interior.

"You are fainting my sparrow." An arm wraps around your waist and allow your body to start dipping slowly. Steadily keeping you leaning back instead of forward to avoid any head or bodily damages.

"Oh-"

Golden eyes observe as realization kicks into you just as your consciousness disconnects completely and you go limp in his hold. In response, he swipes you off of your feet and rock you back and forth gently. Settling you in his lap.

Numbers fly around his head as his lips mimic the soft spoken count he does, as he measures how long you are out. The second he sees the slight crack of dawn in your eyes. He stops and smiles down at you reassuringly. His work water bottle ready for you to take small sips from.

"Drink slowly dear. Deep breaths as well." He mutters, pressing a gentle kiss to the right side of your head. Right against your table.

"Thank you Orion." You croak quietly, breathing in deep. As the tingles throughout your body slowly become subtle numbness. To you finally feeling yourself again.

"My love, always."

  ﹙ Jìngyí 9948e. ﹚ Faints too . . .

This may come as a surprise. Ever active, seemingly healthy and just fine. Jìngyí, when he gets overwhelmed enough or stressed. Faints, and it would not be a first the two of you have fainted around the same time because the both of you came across a stressful situation.

One of the first times you fainted, it took a few minutes for him to try and stay up to call someone to come help before he fainted too. He had been so surprised by the sight of you suddenly on the floor— because a moment before, you'd just been standing!

Were you having an arrest of sorts? Was something else underlying? No. You just. . . Have a fainting condition. That was what you told him when you woke up and he shakily smiled at you and said: "oh okay that makes so much sense! Just give me a moment." And fainted a moment after.

It was his irish twin, Haoyu, who came to pick the both you of up and check for any injuries. Before taking you back home to the zhào estate. A tired expression overtaking his usually smug and happy features.

"Do you remember that first time." Jìngyí laughs and looks down at you, arms wrapped around your middle as he watches you slowly come back to full consciousness after you showed signs of fainting at the dinner.

Groggy eyes blink and move up to meet deep maroon oceans. "Yeah," you croak quietly and smile. "You didn't faint this time?"

"Nope!" He laughs and gently bonks his head into yours. "I managed to keep myself up. You were out for about 3 seconds! Really nothing long this time."

Sheets shift below the two of you as he slowly lays you down in the big pillow pile he has built for you to rest on, whislt he gets you some food and tea. You struggle to let go of his hand as he gets up. Alas, with a small glance and one of those warm smiles, it's enough to reassure you he's gonna be just fine.

"C'mon, let me treat you so you feel better. What snacks do you want?"

"Mmm. . . Surprise me"

  ﹙ Takara 9948e. ﹚ demands consistent handholding. . .

Takara is already quite the physically affectionate kitsune. However, upon discovering just how easy it is for you to faint? They're practically with you everywhere if they can help it. Your hand in hers, as you wander down the streets of the society of shades.

A promise that she will always catch you should you suddenly start showing any signs. A promise to pull you to less crowded spots and sit you down to help you regain your breath if noticed in time. Or places where she can quickly get you something to drink after. Before taking you to a warm café.

Her fox tails sway anxiously this time as she watches you slowly crack your eyes back open after fainting in the crowd. It hit so suddenly you barely had time to process this time. It isn't rare but it's uncommon. You've gotten better at catching it.

Perhaps the recent crowds stumbling into the society of shades has overwhelmed your senses and condition a little. As festival preparations are slowly but surely, coming to life. Your girlfriend and you had just anticipated a little walk to the grocery store before she had to go to work. And then suddenly, just as the two of you got out. The streets began to fill!

"Oooh dārin . . ." She sighs and curls a tail around you to warm you up a little. "It's okay Takara," You laugh in response and hug her back. Gently squeezing her hand to reassure her you're okay, and you will remain okay.

"Not fainting thrice like last time, I promise." You shift in her lap and bury your face in the crook of her neck. Easing into the layers of her kimono.

"You have to get to work too. I can get the groceries home."

Though as you get up, a hand shoots out to grasp at your wrist and pull you back into the safety of Takara's embrace.

"Nuh-uh." Pink eyes glare you down, yet it is affectionate you know. "Café first."

"Okay," you laugh. The best kind of music for her. "We go to café first. Just call Rasui please?"

Little groans of protest fill the air for a moment before they dim down to simple huffs. "Fine."

꒰ ۪ ˖ ࣪ 𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑢 ... info ꮽ mlist ꮽ verse ꮽ wiki .

[dragon-susceptible]

Rayla V Soren Season 2 Fight Analysis

I'm rewatching Season 2 episode 2, the opener, for writing reasons, and can we talk about how Soren actually is a really good fighter again? He's not "getting beaten back" when Rayla first attacks him - he's effortlessly blocking her and falling back to study her attack style. She realizes this and pauses when he just stops moving, but by this time it's too late - he's realized that while she's quick, she's skilled enough to give him a challenge, she's not as strong as he is and she's already angry, and that's going to make her prone to mistakes. But he also caught onto how she realized what HE was doing and backed off, and that's why he gives that little chuckle before he goes after her, because he knows he's going up against someone who's just as talented as he is, so it'll be fun, but more reckless, which means he's likely to win.

Now Rayla is getting beaten back when he starts in on her, but she's also drawing him out, which is one of her strategies that he hasn't seen yet. He's taking these wide swings not realizing that unlike him she hasn't been going in a straight line, she backed up a few steps to the right of where she originally was, which leads to his sword getting briefly stuck in the tree.

But see this is another clever moment from Rayla because she doesn't just trust that it'll get stuck. She keeps retreating out of reach, gives herself some space and range to leap at him from above and use gravity and the full force of her body weight against him. This actually isn't a bad strategy against an opponent that's immobilized or unaware, which is probably why she's so prone to using it (as an assassin, ideally her targets shouldn't be aware of her until too late).

Now the easy solutions here would be for Soren to either free his sword (which they both have already established he can't do quickly enough to use it against her) or to retreat without it. Disarm himself and hope he can get a weapon back before she comes after him again. That's not what he does - instead, while keeping hold of the sword to steady himself, in full plate armor he manages to twist all the way up with one foot firmly planted on the ground to kick upwards, square in her chest below her brandished blades. His upper body is still partially upright, this is a kick that's all in the legs. The bodily control he has to hit her there, below her blades, is impressive.

It also sort of demonstrates Rayla's inexperience or arrogance, because she's not tucking her knees in as she does it. Earlier on in Moonrise we saw Skor use the same move, but keep his knees tucked up, using his feet both to block attacks and as extra weapons midair. Runaan only holds up the one knee against Soren in a similar position, which reflects his arrogance, and I'm honestly pretty 50/50 on if this is Rayla being naive or just as arrogant as her dad is.

Soren also leaps back at Rayla after this, but I don't think it's the same sort of leap that the Moonshadow elves do. He's making a jump to cover the ground quicker, and he comes down with his body weight behind his blade, not attacking with every possible limb as they do. Rayla rolls out of his way instead of trying to stand, goes on all fours to keep moving on her way back to her feet.

Interestingly, Soren doesn't chase her at this point, instead choosing to wait for her to come to him. This is actually a really smart move because he's already established she's faster than he is. They're both using melee weapons, so she'll have to come back in his reach eventually and they both know it.

Except Rayla throws him another curveball by throwing one of her blades. It doesn't actually strike him, because he does have this excellent coordination and bodily control, he just bats it aside as easily as he batted Ram around back in Moonrise. She grabs it again as she goes by and backflips towards him, presumably hoping that he was distracted by that move. He wasn't distracted enough and he successfully blocks her again, and she pushes off their clashing blades to flip back onto her feet behind him.

Soren turns around in the time it takes her to land, and now they both just outright charge each other. Rayla flips her swords to an underhand position. Soren sees this and adjusts from driving his blade directly at her (which that underhand could allow her to easily deflect) to a grip that will allow him to swing, which will be harder for her to block with her swords in that hook shape towards her sides. He's quick enough to do a full body twirl to get momentum behind it before they impact, too, and he sweeps both blades out of his way without even slowing his swing.

I'm not really sure what he planned to do next because the camera angle doesn't let us see most of his body as he's preparing for it, but it's worth noting that Soren's right handed and he did that with his non-dominant hand.

The force of it rocked Rayla back onto one foot, and she responds by trying to hook his legs out from under him. But she projects the whole time, you can see the moment she decides what she's going to do and she goes for it, which makes it real damn easy for Soren to just hop forward and pin her blades under his full weight, which would be considerable with his strength and the heavy plate armor he's wearing.

I'm scrubbing through this like frame by frame and find it really interesting, it almost looks as though Rayla's blades are glimmering with magic from where she holds them. There's almost steam rising from them.

She does not go to her knees to do this, though, she's resting her weight on her knuckles and her toes, her knees are just barely not touching the ground. She also has immense body strength and control over her movements, which is making this fight really interesting. She looks horribly dismayed and scared when this doesn't work out for her and her weight does rock back on one of her knees before she's willing to let go of her blades.

There's this pause as Soren pants and says "I keep telling people. Sweep the leg, is not a thing in swordfighting!" She's triggered his annoyed older brother mode for a second.

As an only child, this just sounds condescending to Rayla and annoys the shit out of her, to which she yanks on her blades. He's lost focus in lecturing her and he hasn't planted his feet well enough away from her blades, and so she's able to pull them out from under him and put him on his back. She flips them back to their sword shape to threaten him with them.

"Oh, any more swordfightin' lessons? I'm eager ta learn." She sneers.

Claudia yelling for Soren distracts her and she looks over her shoulder and Soren takes her distraction for an advantage and bodily tackles her. That's a hell of a lot of weight to take as an impact, especially when not wearing comparable armor, and he knows it.

He manages to grab one of her hands at the wrist to control her blade while doing it, too, her dominant hand, even as she's slung over his shoulder in the bodyslam. He crushes the rest of her against his shoulder pauldron with the other hand, holding her there with no leverage, until he reaches the mud pit in front of Claudia and throws her in. He hasn't forgotten he has backup, though Rayla did.

Claudia, as predicted, has a trick up her sleeve, throws something on Rayla's swords. Logically some of that should have fallen past her blades and probably onto Rayla but it doesn't in the show so we're just going to let that go for the sake of this analysis.

Soren doesn't know exactly what Claudia has planned so he doesn't follow Rayla into the muck, he's waiting to see what will happen. Rayla, alarmed because this mud didn't exist a few minutes ago, scrambles to her feet, not initially noticing the new goop on her blades. She turns her attention to Claudia, recognizing the additional threat, and trying to analyze it.

Claudia casts her spell and heats the metal of Rayla's butterfly blades, causing her to drop them from the pain. She's presumably not burned through the coating of mud that seems to have stuck mostly to her hands and very little else.

Soren chooses that moment to remind her of his presence, saying "Any last words, elf?" As he holds his sword in a thrusting position, looming over her from the edge of the mud pit. He has a clear advantage here and they all know it.

Instead of thrusting forward (admittedly, she's a little far away still for that to work), he raises his sword for another large sweeping motion.

Rayla, though, she's also not stupid, and she's used to using the environment to her advantage. "Does hot mud count as a word?"

It throws Soren off enough to pause and ask "What do you mean?"

That pause is all she needs to kick the mud, made steaming by her boiling hot blades, into his face. He yells in pain, but this has mainly just pissed him off, and though he faltered he draws back to attack her again, and without her blades her only choice at this point would have been to run and hope Claudia doesn't manage to catch her with magic.

However, Callum calling stop makes Soren freeze even in the midst of his blinking rage. I really like that moment because it shows that even though Soren has a temper and has been taught to react to that temper with violence (see Viren absolutely losing his shit and destroying a whole room later in this same goddamn episode), he actually has a lot of restraint and self-control.

A pair of lunar moths fly in ahead of Callum and I'm wondering if they guided him here, prompted by whatever moon magic was going on with Rayla in her distress.

By the time Callum is fully in frame with all of them, Soren has not only stopped but lowered his blade entirely, held in a relatively neutral blocking position level not with his own vitals but with where Rayla's hands are/where she could attack him from her position. This is where the actual fight ends. I'm just so fascinated by how this matchup went, because it displays so starkly that while they're both incredibly talented, strong, and skilled fighters, Soren actually does have an advantage over Rayla in terms of experience. He's also less likely to get overwhelmed by emotion and make mistakes as a result of it. I also think, at this point, Soren is the one less likely to hesitate in a fight. He hasn't reached his crisis point yet, where Rayla has and is still working through it.

[murfpersonalblog]

I had to pause reading this to scream laugh holler rolling in my grave at @siahatha's new fic & Louis's arm-burning scene--it's SO good! 👏 This is just me fangirling & thinking out loud; it was way too long to put in the comments at AO3.

Four little bars have been burned (and must have burned for a while, Jesus, he sleeps like the dead) into Louis’ forearm, hand, and fingers from where they smoldered in the little bit of light. Lestat must have moved Louis’ hand when he realized. Impulsively (premeditated), Louis slides his hand back into the light, eyes on Lestat. “Absolument pas!/ Absolutely not,” Lestat snarls, wrenching Louis’ hand back into the shadow. It hurts a little, but maybe only because of the burn on his arm.  “Joues avec moi/ play with me,” Louis whines, and he means it. Lestat is overreacting (typical, Louis can only be harmed on Lestat’s terms apparently) and Armand would have gotten it, would have let him burn just a little, and allowed him the grace of repentance.  “I will not,” Lestat works his jaw.... "....What’s wrong with some sexual processing? What’s the difference between a spanking and a little sun?” “....The difference, mon amour, is that I am not Armand. I get what I want, and what I want is my darling safe and sated."

I LOVE the contrast b/t Armand vs Lestat, and the diametrically opposed ways they handle Louis' mental illness--enabling vs enforcing. There's good & bad on both unhealthily toxic sides ofc; pampering & spoiling vs protecting & domineering; and there's a time & a place for both/either--but what really matters most is what LOUIS wants in a husband:

Lestat’s nostrils flare. “Impossible! I wake up to the smell of you burning your arm off, and now I’m being punished with century-old pettiness, for what? Declining to indulge your suicidality through the thin veneer of sado-masochism? Why would I pleasure you with pain when I am so very skilled at pleasuring you with pleasure? No, Louis, I will not burn you with the sun when I can take you into my mouth instead. Now, please, let’s go to coffin so that I may do just that and we can get some fucking sleep.” So there it was. Lestat was the best lay of his life and he wouldn’t let him hurt himself. And brother, Louis does feel warm here in the shadows with Lestat and all his loving firmness. Louis continues to be pleasantly surprised by New Lestat’s patience. He’ll return the blow job. He feels his honey deserves it.  “I think antidepressants would be a more apt metaphor,” Louis says, because he’s not about to just roll over.... Lestat rolls his eyes, actor expressive. “Regardless. A—what is the English?—a pushover! I am not. I will not allow you to hurt yourself and I do not give up. I will always be there to steady your hand.” Lestat tightens his grip on Louis’ arm. “And I will play no more of these games,” Lestat says, ending the discussion, scooping Louis up and carrying him to coffin, where he enjoys feeling weightless as Lestat steps over the coffin room’s threshold.  Later, Louis is being held in the true dark of the coffin, where it smells like Lestat and everything that means to Louis. He smiles, ignoring the sinking feeling. He’s gotten what he wanted. “I love you,” he whispers into the dark.

As pridefully independent & stubborn as Louis is, he still WANTS someone to snatch his hand away and tell him NO and bodily carry him out of the room and put him in a safe cocoon/coffin and hold him close & make everything better.

I'm just reminded of our very first scene with Lou demonstrating to Daniel what vampirism looks like in the sun; and Armand's reaction.

Like, it was wild that Lou even went that far, burning his arm just to prove to Daniel that he's really a vampire; when back in SanFran all he needed to do was flash his fangs & move at super speed.

Lou's chronically suicidal, but burning in the sun isn't the only way to self-destruct; he's BEEN slowly killing himself EVERY DANG DAY.

Armand erroneously thought Lou reading Claudia's diaries & being interviewed was what was gonna send him off the deep end again; but Daniel's proving that Louis NEEDS to face the past & confront his trauma so it can be processed & he can truly start healing--not bury it under the rug & force himself to forget.

Sure, Armand pulled him out of the sun in SanFran, but he had/has been doing LITERALLY NOTHING ELSE to pull Louis out of his continuing spiral; often contributing to Louis' bad practices; or standing back and watching Louis "act out"--these are CRIES FOR HELP; but Armand can't see it; he just judges Louis & resents him in silence. The 100+ drunken/drugged blackout sexcapades eff-off-and-find-me-laters; asking Armand to lobotomize him 3 days after he'd had a terrible mental breakdown; taking on the Dom role when Lou's not even good at it & doesn't enjoy it; squirelling himself away in Dubai eating human food that tastes like glue--it's ALL self-mortification; it's ALL suicide. Louis wants to get OUT, but he needs help that Armand just can't give him.

Sadly, Lestat, for all his flaws & faults, is the one Louis REALLY wants; and (giving the devil his props) he's much better equipped to handle Lou, cuz he's not afraid to bully Louis go head-to-head with him. Fighting is NOT the right way ofc; and Loustat aren't inherently predisposed to fighting at all--they're both actually incredibly sensitive & soft--but the struggles in Loustat's life hardened them & conditioned them to become fighters--nurture versus nature.

Loustat's problem is that they needed to learn how to communicate WITHOUT the crutch of telepathy (which clearly hadn't helped Loumand anyway ); and realize that as companions/husbands, every conversation/connection doesn't actually NEED to be borne of violence--seeing each other as obstacles to be crossed or fights/battles to be won.

One of my favorite lines in a fic is from BlueBloodBruise's Go Fetch God:

He could hear Lestat pacing downstairs, playing music that galloped nowhere, raging at the world with two fists up. If he closed his eyes, Louis could still hear him weep, howling sobs so freighted with grief they reminded Louis of the screams of mating herons.... "What, Louis?! What in God’s rotten hell do you want? You know I can't read your mind!" "You." This is the definition of madness, Louis thinks dimly...trying to convince his murderer to let himself be loved. "I want you to let me in. I want to let you in without being afraid you’ll tear me to pieces, like God would have if he'd peered into my soul when I was mortal. If I fear you, I can’t love you, Lestat. You have to share yourself with me—" "I did! I shared my blood, my home with you, my—" "No. I need you to put your fists down and look at me. Not like some object you created, but like an equal, your hus—" .

They needed to find a balance--as EQUALS. Passivity & cowardice isn't the right way either, and sometimes when you see your loved one doing dangerous stupid ish, you HAVE to step up and stop them; even if they get mad and it causes a fight and they yell & holler that they hate you.

ARMAND NEVER HAD THAT! Armand went from a sheltered childhood in poverty to parents who sold/threw him away; to sex slavery & captivity; to white-savior hero worship living with uber-hedonistic Marius who spoiled him rotten & taught him to mix pain w/ pleasure via BDSM; to 200+ years in a brainwashed Satanic cult of self-loathing & self-mortification (all pain & zero pleasure); to LEADING that Satanic coven & brainwashing others to follow the Great Laws & gaslighting humans to not notice that the calls are coming from inside the house. This is all Armand's ever had.

Louis was his first/only "real" relationship with a normal person (someone not his Maker & not a coven-member). Armand overcorrected all the harsh treatments he got & gave b4, to treat Lou with kid gloves--when really, Lou needed tough love--not someone to "chop his hands off" the way Armand treated Nicki, but someone to really HELP him cuz they UNDERSTAND & love him.

Lou was deeply traumatized by his formative years, too--his baby brother Paul in & out of mental asylums, cast off by Papa DPDL & coddled by their mother Florence; who babied Paul but HATED any signs of LOUIS being ANOTHER "fragile son." Anything "wrong" with Lou he'd need to figure TF out how to get rid of ASAP!

Louis couldn't afford to be mentally unstable, depressed--he needed to buck up & take care of this nasty AF family that hated/resented/didn't understand him. The only one he'd ever connected with was Paul--who committed suicide right in front of him after Louis told him he loved him; only for Lou's own mother to blame him for Paul's death like wtf.

The only one who understood even a fraction of what Lou'd gone through and how Lou operated & what he'd want/need IS LESTAT. Cuz he'd been there, too.

Les grew up dirt poor, but his family dynamic was uncannily similar to the DPDLs; only instead of Paul, Les had Gabrielle. Les saw his mom Gabrielle in Louis, (and Armand KNOWS this; which is why his whole backstory/account of Lesmand in Paris is SUS AF). Louis was SEEN by Lestat--they're kindred spirits; two sides of the same coin--for better and for worse; cuz when Loustat's in sync it's beautiful; but when they clash THEY CLASH. 💀

Loumand has never been in sync; they're only ever on the same page when they're performing/pretending/role-playing. Armand constantly says/does the WRONG thing--

--then victim-blames Louis afterwards; redirecting any and all culpability OFF himself and ONTO LOU (or Claudia, Daniel, Santiago, Tom, Dick and Harry....), as if it's all Louis' fault what happened to him, and not the result of Armand's contributing/mishandling of Louis' PTSD.

As opposed to the way Lestat talks to Louis--

--not focusing Lou's suicide attempt as the result of something Lou did to HIMSELF, but rather something done TO Louis--(mental) illness isn't HIS FAULT; it's something he can get HELP for; and Les loves him and is just waiting for him to be ready to talk to him.

But don't wait too long! At Rue Royale Lestat often sat silently letting all their messes simmer & boil over. What's amazing about fanfics like @siahatha's Alligator Tears (a sequel to Renaissance) is that it gives Loustat the chance to sit down and have those much-needed talks, hard as they are, so they can finally MAKE PEACE and HEAL as a better couple. Lestat also KNOWS Louis, and that's why he can get in Louis' face and ALSO tell him that he's not gonna sit back and let Louis hurt himself--and their relationship--anymore. Lou's anorexia's a symptom of a much more complicated issue (a vegan vampire still grappling with what it means to kill people in order to feed healthily), so that is a delicate matter that will take time for them to negotiate--one of my fave parts of Renaissance is when Loustat's in the blood donor truck--but any self-immolation will be nipped in the bud IMMEDIATELY. 😤👏

[cherrys-writings]

Hi :)

Could you maybe write smth where Grayson is hospitalized and Jameson is pretending he doesn’t care (but he does)

A Few Minutes With His Brother

Warnings: Angst, Bodily injury, hurt Grayson

Grayson was catching up with Avery and the bodyguards when he was thrown from his feet, heat searing his shoulder. He landed hard on the cold asphalt with a sickening crack. Grayson tried to push himself up only for blinding pain to force him back to the ground. Ears ringing, he tried to look for Avery. She needed to be safe. Something was dripping into his eyes. Grayson fought to keep them open, he had to make sure Avery was safe, for Jameson’s sake. Blurry figures were running towards him, someone was yelling. Fuck, his head hurt…everything hurt. Grayson wanted to escape the pain for just a second when he let his eyes fall shut.

***********************************

Oren held Avery back while his men rushed to check on Grayson. He was too still. She kept waiting for him to get up and dust off his suit. His pained yelling stopped so suddenly Avery could only assume the worst. She didn’t force herself to stifle her sobs. Grayson was just trying to help her figure out part of the puzzle that was Hawthorne Island. Instead, he got caught up in an attempt to end her life. 

“Stop fighting me so I can let the paramedics through when they arrive,” Oren growled.

“Is he BREATHING?” Avery screamed as Oren hauled her to the bullet-proof SUV. 

One of the men had two fingers pressed to Graysons neck, “Don’t move him,” he said. 

Sirens blared in the distance and Avery could just make out the red flashing lights of the first responders. She tried to open the door. She needed to see for herself that Grayson was breathing, but it wouldn’t budge. Apparently bullet-proof cars come with child locks. 

Avery watched as they put a brace around Grayson’s neck and slowly got him onto a backboard. She didn’t see much else as they loaded him into the ambulance, one of her security team riding along. She watched the firefighters spray water on the ball of flame that was once a jet as the rest of the security team made their way back to the SUV. The one in the passenger seat told Oren what hospital the three ambulances were going to. Avery hadn’t seen the other two injured men, her focus only on Grayson. 

Avery was taken directly to a hotel, despite her protests to go to the hospital. She paced the room as she waited for Oren to return with news. Suddenly, Avery realised she should let everyone know what happened, although someone probably notified them. Still, she got her phone out anyway and called Libby. 

“Avery! Nash just got a call. Something about a bomb on the plane, are you okay?” Libby was on the verge of tears. 

“I’m alright Libs, but…Grayson,” she took a deep breath, “Grayson’s hurt. I don’t know how bad it is; they won’t let me near the hospital.”

There was yelling in the background. “We’re on our way Avery.”

***********************************

Grayson squinted against the too bright lights. He groaned as the pain came flooding back. His head, ribs, shoulder, just about everything hurt. He tried to turn his head, but something wouldn’t let him. A gentle hand was on his shoulder when he tried to sit up. 

“You’re in the hospital. The plane exploded. They say you might need surgery.”

Grayson recognised the member of Avery’s security, but his name eluded him. If that ringing would stop maybe he could remember. 

A nurse walked in, “your c-spine is okay, so we can take that off your neck now. The trauma surgeon is reviewing your scans.”

After she left the room Grayson asked, “where’s Avery?”

“She’s safe, sir.”

The response sounded far away as black dotted his vision again. People around him started moving quickly and his bed was rolling down the halls. He was pulled from one bed to another. Someone was talking to Grayson, but he couldn’t make out what they were saying. Maybe something about oxygen. He let the darkness overtake him again. 

***********************************

“Maybe he’ll finally be rid of that stick up his ass,” Jameson sneered.

“That’s enough Jamie,” Nash said, striding over to take his brother by the arm. Nash pulled him into the bathroom, practically throwing Jameson inside. “We almost lost our brother and all you can do is make jokes. I know you two had your fights, but this is just sick.”

Jameson rolled his eyes, “Grayson will be awake and bossing everyone around again in no time at all. He’ll walk it off.”

Everyone took turns sitting in Grayson’s room. The second he was stable, they had him moved to Hawthorne House. Believing he would recover quicker if he was at home. Grayson still hadn’t woken up. Jameson wouldn’t stop telling anyone who would listen how quickly Grayson would bounce back, his voice shakier each time. Jameson had taken to sleeping in a recliner beside Grayson’s bed. It had been nearly a week since the bomb, while Grayson continued to improve physically, he wasn’t showing signs of waking anytime soon. Jameson’s attitude turned the third day he was home. He never left Grayson’s room, barely ate, and if they listened closely, they could hear Jamie’s shaky voice telling his brother how much he loved and needed him. That he was lost without his older brother and even though they fight he wants Grayson in his life more than anything. At night, Jameson didn’t stop any tears that fell as he held Grayson’s hand and stared at the sharp lines on the heart monitor, the only indication that his brother was still with him. 

Nash and Xander could barely get Jameson away long enough to take a proper shower. He was always back within a few minutes, hair wet, taking his spot again in the recliner. Avery tried to get Jameson to play chess, but that only upset him more. He and Grayson had learned together after all. Avery had no idea what to do. Jameson had never been this broken up about anything before. She would sit with him by Grayson’s bed, trailing her fingers up and down his arm. Sometimes she could get him to take a few bites of food, but most of the time he would just sip the water she would bring. Avery hated that she couldn’t constantly stay with the two of them. Some nights she would sleep on a cot set up in the room. Other nights she would stroke Jameson’s hair until he fell asleep, one hand resting on Grayson’s bed. 

Something stirred Jameson in the middle of the night. It took him a moment to hear the faint, scratchy voice asking, “Where? Where?”

He could hear the fear creeping into Grayson’s voice and he scrambled to turn on the lamp on a nearby table. Grayson groaned in pain at the sudden brightness. Jameson could hardly believe it; his brother was awake. Grayson’s eyes had finally opened. Jameson sniffled, trying not to tear up just yet.

“Where?”

Jameson rushed back to sit on the edge of the bed, “Home. You’re home Gray.”

Tears streamed down his face as he stared at Grayson. Leaning forward, he pressed his forehead to his brother’s. “You woke up.”

Grayson wrapped an arm weakly around Jameson, “It’s okay Jamie. It’s okay now.”

Jameson sat back, it wasn’t okay yet. He had no idea how to begin. How to tell Grayson how afraid he had been. How worried everyone was. He knew he should call the doctor and get Grayson assessed, but he needed a few more minutes with his brother. 

Grayson reached for his brother’s hand, squeezing it as tightly as he could, “I love you too Jamie.”

************************************************************************

I'm slowly but surely getting requests written. Thank you for your patience!

[infiniteeight8]

I'm craving the UST of a spar, or a fight, or roleplay, with Tony managing to pin Stephen down, pressing him bodily to the floor (or wall) with his wrists trapped above his head.

Tony keeps his weight light on his feet, eyes tracking Strange’s movements, his own hands raised, ready to move to block or strike as needed. Sweat sticks his shirt to his skin, and a few spots ache from hits, but Strange is in much the same shape. 

Strange suddenly closes, lashing out with an elbow instead of a hand, and Tony moves, half ducking out of the way and half deflecting the strike. For a moment there’s heated skin under his hands and the lean strength of Strange’s body pressing against his and then momentum carries them apart again. 

Strange is grinning, despite failing to make real contact, and Tony finds himself grinning back. As much as he loves the armor, there’s nothing quite like a no-powers spar to get the blood up. His heart is pounding and his awareness is heightened and this is a puzzle, one that he’s not guaranteed to solve.

But even as he thinks it, Tony spots an opening. There’s a chance it’s a bait, a trap, but he goes for it anyway, hooking Strange’s ankle and throwing his weight just right. Strange goes down, and while he brings Tony with him, he’s still at the disadvantage when they hit the floor. They roll once, and then Tony’s on top, his hands locked tight around Strange’s wrists, pinning them above his head. Everything goes still, their faces so close that Tony can feel Strange’s breath wash his lips. His pulse is pounding against Tony’s fingers.

“Do you yield?” Tony asks, slightly breathless, their eyes locked together.

“Not just yet,” Strange says, eyes glittering.

[thebibutterflyao3]

Day 28 - Prompt: Dance @pandalilymicrofics

February Daily Series - 825 words

<<<Previous Part OR Start Here

Lily gently adjusted her hold on Pandora’s waist as they approached the entrance to the Inn. She hoped that the front desk clerk wouldn’t ask too many questions about why Lily was half-carrying the woman to her room. Thankfully, they hadn’t run into anyone on the short walk, but she doubted her luck would hold for much longer.

“Almost there,” she whispered, inadvertently brushing her lips against Pandora’s ear. “How are you feeling? Any better?”

Pandora shivered and leaned in closer. “Worse, I think.”

“I’m pretty sure that I have paracetamol in my purse. Will that help?”

“It’s a start, but I think I need you to stay and play nurse.”

Lily rolled her eyes and shook her head. “You’ve already used that line. What’s next, blackmail?”

“I’m not above blackmail. Is that what it will take? I could threaten to sue you for bodily injury?”

Against her will, Lily’s lips twitched in amusement. Thus far, Pandora had come up with four different tactics to convince her to stay the night. Playing “nurse” seemed to appeal to Pandora the most.

“You’re a ‘trauma victim,’ remember? Now, behave,” Lily chastised lightly.

“What’s the fun in that?”

Lily bit down hard on her bottom lip to keep from grinning. She wasn’t actually sure how bad Pandora’s pain was because she insisted on flirting every time Lily asked, but she figured that if the little minx could walk and flirt, it probably wasn’t life-threatening.

“Lily, stop it,” Pandora said, her thumb tugging Lily’s lip free. “You’re such a tease.”

“Me? You must have hit your head harder than I thought.” Lily ignored the rush of heat to her cheeks and focused on navigating through the front door instead. She and Pandora had to perform an awkward sort of dance to slip inside the narrow entry together.

The front desk clerk glanced up, then did a double-take. “Oh! Do you need help?”

“I’ve got it, thanks,” Lily said, smiling politely. “She took a tumble walking back from the festival, that’s all.”

“Understandable in those shoes. I’m impressed she still has them on,” the woman said, hurrying around the desk. “What room are you in, Miss?”

Before Pandora could answer her, a herd of elephants charged down the stairs. Or at least, that’s what it sounded like. The clerk sighed and rubbed a hand over her face as she pivoted on her heel to address the chaos.

“Gentlemen! Please walk down the stairs,” she called out.

An enormous ball of black fur and limbs burst from the stairwell and landed at the bottom. Padfoot lifted his head, sniffed the air, then bounded away from whichever of his owners that he’d left in a crumpled heap. Lily gasped and shifted Pandora away from the excited dog.

“Pads! For fuck’s sake, you twat,” Sirius shouted, pushing himself upright. “Leave Lily alone.”

Remus appeared out of nowhere and helped his boyfriend to his feet. “What the hell just happened?”

“Padfoot happened,” Sirius groaned, shoving a hand through his hair. “He was so excited to go for a W-A-L-K that he dragged me down the stairs.”

Lily eyed the dog bouncing eagerly in front of the stairs. The poor thing was all riled up after an afternoon holed up in a hotel room. Remus was attempting to grab hold of his leash while the clerk blocked him from jumping on Lily and Pandora.

“Pads,” Sirius coaxed, moving swiftly to Remus’s right. “Come here. A little closer.”

The dog suddenly realised that he was about to be boxed in and lunged the opposite direction. His tail whipped at Remus’s legs and nearly knocked him to the floor. Sirius cursed under his breath and chased after him.

“Padfoot. Sit,” said a sharp voice in the doorway. Padfoot stopped so abruptly that Sirius tripped over him and went sprawling across the floor.

“Well, we know who’s really in charge. Don’t we, Reg?” Pandora teased, glancing over her shoulder.

Regulus’s smirk disappeared the moment he stepped around Lily. “Pandora! Are you alright? Was it Barty? I’ll kill him!”

All of a sudden, the reception area burst into chaos. James rushed past Lily and Pandora to restrain his furious boyfriend, who had pulled out a knife and was shouting threats at the doorway as if Barty was on the other side of it.

Meanwhile, Sirius had pounced on Padfoot in an attempt to get hold of his leash when he took off again. The pair were wrestling while Remus chased after them. The clerk was running from one to the other trying to restore order, but her high-pitched voice was only adding fuel to the fire.

Pandora looked around, then up at Lily with a weary smile. “Stay with me, please?”

“Yeah, I think I’d better,” she agreed, leaning down to sweep Pandora into her arms. Lily navigated past the chaos while Pandora tucked her head under Lily’s chin. “What room, Miss?”

“Down the hall. Last one on the left.”

Next Part>>>

[wheeljack-boom]

Continuation of pt. 3 posted some time ago. A fresh rescuer comes to save the day, but it gets worse from there.

Full work (just updated) can be found here!

Mild warning for violence, human getting thrown around, Cybertronian teeth marks, etc. Word count: 5,188

Non specific AU, mostly inspired by G1. Human is an OC.

“Hey Rumble! Why don’t you hang out with me instead?!” Recognition cut through Allison’s stunned and disoriented mental state as she managed to roll over, surprised through her fearful haze to see the darkened form of Bumblebee standing over her—he was cracking jokes?! The Autobot had the Decepticon he called Rumble pinned against the ruined wall of her building, arm locked at a distance so that his quarry thrashed around uselessly in his grip; just hanging there…

The action of Allison stumbling to her feet, made Bumblebee finally glance at her, his expression indecipherable. “H-hey… you should probably run—” Whatever motion Bumblebee was doing with his free arm went unnoticed, as Allison caught sight of something massive moving towards him fast. It was clearly angry. Maybe her sudden, horrified expression gave it away, but she pointed behind him, screaming. 

“Look out!”

Perhaps Bumblebee had actually sensed it before Allison’s organic brain could process what she was seeing, because the second the words left her lips the Autobot reacted. His expression widened in alarm, then half a second later he swung around in the opposite direction, bodily throwing the Decepticon in his grip at the oncoming monstrosity that exploded from the ground to tower above him. Whatever it was, it was immediately obvious it wasn’t friendly, barely flinching as it caught the living projectile that was thrown at it. Bumblebee stepped in front of her to take a defensive position, making it incredibly obvious that his earlier statement was not so much a suggestion, but a necessity. 

Before she turned to run, Allison only had the faintest impression of Rumble disengaging from the new arrival who bore a striking resemblance to the smaller Decepticon she was already familiar with. She could barely make out the flashes of blue and silver in the lights of the streetlamps, the very obvious red visor over its eyes glaring with a searing hatred directed squarely on Bumblebee. She was terrified for him, but knew she could do nothing to help against this assailant who was nearly double his size. 

Something ejected from the larger Decepticon’s chest that Allison couldn’t see as she turned to flee, but she heard Bumblebee yell what sounded like run over the explosion of commotion. She didn’t have time to think about what she saw, realizing that exact moment that she’d lost track of where Rumble had gone, but there wasn’t time to care. She was running deeper into the alley, where it opened up into a construction site behind her building. There was a lot of confusing, violent noise happening behind her, and in a blind panic she threw her body behind a stack of wooden pallets to catch her breath. She couldn’t run forever…

To her dismay, Allison realized that the clashing brawl had nearly matched her pace, entering the space of the construction site right behind her. It was clear that Bumblebee’s size gave him a number of advantages over the massive Decepticon, because he was fast, effortlessly using the larger size of his opponent against them. Allison still had not really adjusted to the sheer scale of these beings, even with her exposure to them in a safe environment back at the Autobots’ home. Seeing them fight now was otherworldly. The way their arms swept through the air and smashed into each other, the frightening size of their gait as their feet moved over the limited terrain while Bumblebee tried to hold the larger robot back. And this was just two of them. All it did was bring to focus just how terrifyingly out of place they were, and Allison feared for how much destruction more of them could wreak on Earth.

Bumblebee was clearly taking more of a defensive stance, though Allison couldn’t really understand why. It was almost like he was stalling for time, dodging the Decepticon’s blows and maneuvering around him with a quickness that should have been improbable for something of his size. The Decepticon in turn was eerily devoid of expression, having a similar mask-like covering on their face that Wheeljack did. Their chest where she’d earlier seen unusual movement was square-like and rimmed in yellow, the same symbol in the center that she stupidly hadn’t recognized earlier for what it was; how could she have known?

If Allison stayed any longer, she was going to get crushed, but now she feared if she revealed her position she would draw the Decepticon’s attention. Luckily they seemed more focused on attacking Bumblebee, who was doing an impressive job landing quick hits and dodging the return swings. She watched in frozen horror, too fearful to move and invite death. They’d seemed so kind and unthreatening, but now watching the skilled, practiced movements of the yellow Autobot confirmed what she should have already known: they were warriors.

Somehow the Decepticon managed to finally land a sharp, brutal kick on Bumblebee’s leg, causing him to buckle with a sharp yell. This gave them the needed opening to swing around him, trapping him in a chokehold with a massive arm. Allison feared she was about to watch Bumblebee lose his head, his eyes quickly glancing in her direction instantly as if to check where she was—at some point his face had become mostly obscured by what was clearly his own protective mask, but his eyes were clear and frightened. She had to do something that was monumentally stupid, because she loathed the fact that he was more worried about her than his own life. 

Her eyes darted around, eventually landing on a large dolly covered in what looked like metal piping across the pathway. Instinctively, she looked them over quickly to see if she could use them to her advantage. The details of how weren’t there, just this blur of an idea, but it was all she had in that moment as she ran towards it. Bumblebee was fighting with the Decepticon to break free, a brief moment of confusion on his face as he saw Allison rush out from hiding, passing behind the two larger bodies with an immense sense of urgency. She reached for the dolly handle and pulled it with all of her weight, her grip nearly failing as her hand slipped on the wet metal. She was dismayed to find that it didn’t want to budge as fast as she needed it to. It was much heavier than she anticipated, and she knew time was not on her side as she tried to position it in the right place, shoes gripping into the wet concrete with each backward step. She kept glancing sideways at the massive towering form above her, uncomfortably close enough that she could feel the radiating heat. She could almost reach out and touch them…

Somehow, it must have been obvious what she was doing, because as soon as she was clear of the Decepticon’s path Bumblebee snapped his wing panels upwards violently. With legs more powerful than she could comprehend, he kicked off the ground forcing both bodies backwards. The rendering shriek of metal slicing through metal preceded the startled release of the much larger robot letting go. They emitted a strangely electronic garbled roar that sounded full of static, gripping a torn space on their front that looked like it was now leaking. Energon… Allison thought through a dim haze of panic, realizing she was watching this robot bleed. Stumbling backwards with heavy, thudding steps, they knocked over the dolly, pipes spilling around their feet with a deafening clatter that echoed across the construction site. They lost their footing and began to fall, Allison's gambit somehow paying off. Bumblebee used the opportunity to break further away and whip around, and in one shockingly fast motion raised a transformed arm and shot at the Decepticon with a sudden burst of focused light. The overwhelming crack of the weapon caused Allison to collapse in a shocked heap behind the pallet, covering her ears far too late as her eardrums wailed in agony. A lingering burn of electrically charged air stung her skin from the close proximity; like a stinger, Allison thought stupidly in her battle-shocked brain, and she could have laughed if not for the fact that it possibly could have killed her if she were any closer. Water was an excellent conductor of electricity. 

These were their weapons?? Planet Earth was screwed.

The tremendously powerful crunch that followed signaled the fall of something massive hitting the ground next to her. Now was probably the most opportune time to run. The ringing in her ears was painful. She had barely a second’s breath to come to terms with the idea that Bumblebee had shot someone with his arm, and that she had somehow felt some sort of rebound effect even some distance away. 

Unfortunately as she stumbled out from behind her hiding spot, she noticed the Decepticon was staring directly at her from their prone position on the ground. The feeling of being marked was immediate, and if she had frozen any longer she would have been caught by their hand as they lashed out to pluck her off the ground. The rush of air passed over her as she ducked out of reach and further into the construction site, nearly slipping on a muddy puddle as she tried to gain purchase off the ground.  She didn’t want to look behind her to see Bumblebee die, so she ran, blindly, hearing what sounded like the returning shots of a powerful weapon behind her.

The construction site merged with the backside of an urban mall—Allison was familiar with it, because she’d visited it many times, but was aware that it was currently closed for large-scale renovations. She wasn’t really conscious of where her feet were taking her, but an impulse pulled her towards the back end of the building. It was open to the elements, blocked off from intruders with only locked gates and tarp. It seemed wildly unprotected, but Allison didn’t care. She needed to get lost somewhere and catch her breath. After nearly being strangled, thrown around, and chased, she was losing energy fast so hiding seemed like the reasonable option. 

Unless, they could sense her, making her ability to hide moot anyway. That posed a number of problems, but what she needed was time to hopefully recover. She had doubts she was going to make it out alive anyway. 

Cutting through the first row of barriers, Allison ducked under the tarp and considered her methods for getting around the locked wire gate. There was no way she was going to get the padlock open, so she decided climbing was the best option. There was enough of a gap between the top of the wire fence and the concrete ceiling that she would be able to slip through. There wasn’t really time to think about security cameras or getting caught. Getting up was easy enough, but hoisting her body over to the other side was another matter considering how much her body hurt. She barely managed to dangle her feet over the other side when her strength finally gave out, her arms turning to putty as she lost her grip and plunged to the ground like a weighted sack. As she lay there on her side in a tragic heap, she briefly considered sobbing. She was worn out, soaking wet, terrified and bruised and she just wanted it to end. 

It was maybe only moments Allison laid there, listening to the thumping of her heart in her chest while her legs burned. She half-wondered if she was going to be able to stand again, because she almost couldn’t feel her feet. The skin on her neck prickled with a sharp pain from where Rumble had his hand around her, and her whole body was chilled straight through to the bone. Eventually Allison’s heart rate slowed to an anxious throb, pulse an overbearing presence on her awareness as she silently wished for losing consciousness. That way, she could be unaware of her death when the time came. 

Reluctantly she pushed her body into an upright position, her arms trembling like jello as she used the gate to try and pull herself to her feet. Her ears had stopped ringing, so that was a plus, but she could no longer hear the sounds of the fight outside. It was eerily quiet underneath the hammering sound of the rain, and remembering what it felt like just before she’d been attacked, Allison was struck with the urgent compulsion to move.

It was slightly warmer the further she got into the darkened mall, making Allison shudder against the searing cold of her soaked clothing. Her jacket felt heavy with water, and it was seeping into her shirt underneath, causing it to stick to her skin. Wiping wet hair out of her eyes, she looked around, searching for any signs of movement, human or otherwise. She would have almost welcomed human hostility, because that was at least predictable at this point. 

The innards of the mall were locked down tight, more secure than the outside entrance. Each storefront was like a mini Fort Knox, completely shuttered and padlocked, with merchandise completely pulled from visible lines of sight. There weren’t any signs of human activity at all, save for more construction supplies and equipment strewn about in piles. The vague sense of post-apocalyptic abandonment was still omnipresent and it made Allison feel very alone.  Looking behind her, the wide promenade was empty, meaning nothing had followed her from that way. 

It was too much to hope that she hadn’t been seen, and Allison knew that vain optimism would not be on her side that night. Her only plan was to leave through the front, potentially putting a large building between her and the dangerous fighting back the way she’d come . Maybe she could get lost in the confusing grid of streets and tall buildings to make her way home, but that assumed home was even safe. Trying for something like a police station seemed out of the question. What the hell were they going to do against large robotic attackers? Would they even believe her? She barely believed any of this was happening herself.

As soon as Allison turned back to travel deeper into the mall towards the front doors, something above her exploded in a sharp cascade, and what she initially thought was rain falling around her was quickly revealed to be shards of glass. She fell forward onto her knees, immediately bringing her arms up to protect her head from the cutting assault, hearing the tremendously heavy smash of something landing behind her. She didn’t need to look to know what it was, as she could recall the oppressive energy of her intimately acquainted assailant from earlier. Rumble had found her. 

“Stop running,” Rumble muttered. His voice sounded strangely detached, like he was not quite in control of himself. With the way he’d seemed overcome with the need to pummel her earlier, the depersonalization of his nature was a special kind of horror. Like a desperate need for violence was overriding any other critical functioning. Allison had no intention of heeding such a request of course, so she forced herself to her feet and practically threw her body into the large double-doors of an employee accessway. She didn’t want to think what he was going to do to her if he got his hands on her again.

The Decepticon watched her coolly, unmoving save for what looked like a steady rise and fall of his shoulders. Allison wasn’t sure what to make of his behavior now, almost like he was waiting for something she wasn’t aware of but she didn’t want to stick around and find out. The employee doors weren’t locked, so she yanked one open to throw herself inside—

—Only to be met with what was one of the most viscerally unfortunate things she had ever seen. There was another one, almost identical to the one that had been chasing her, but this time he was red and black, moving quickly down the hallway with an even more wildly predatory grin on his face. 

“No!” Allison wailed audibly, forcing the door closed almost as quickly as she’d opened it. In that brief space of time Rumble had moved to nearly be on top of her. Yelping, Allison tried to duck past him, cringing as she brushed against solid, hot metal in her bid for freedom. She was not equipped for this. They were flanking her; a strategic move fit for a battlefield, a place she had no business being in. She was outclassed and outmatched in every way. 

That wasn’t going to stop her from trying to stay alive, even if she knew in her gut she was doomed. Allison got lucky before, because Rumble was hindered by the cramped accommodations. Not to mention the fact that her timely rescue by Bumblebee was too much of a coincidence to be pure luck. She hadn’t really had a second to give it much thought outside of the obvious answer that he’d been watching her, but for how long?

As she ran, she only had the faintest memory of Wheeljack edge its way into her brain. Where was he at that moment, and was he aware of what was going on? Was he aware that he and Ratchet had been wrong about the energon? It didn’t really matter anymore.

A crash somewhere behind her caused Allison to risk a glance over her shoulder as she ran. The fact that she suddenly couldn’t see Rumble anymore was alarming. He had disappeared somewhere through the mangled security shutters of a store, which explained the crash. Even worse, the newcomer red twin had emerged from the employee corridor, only to launch off the ground in a single bound, attaching himself to the higher margins of the wall like some kind of freak insect. Something had impaled the wall—his arm, now some kind of long, cone-like appendage like a massive drill. Allison thought that things couldn’t have been any worse, but she’d obviously been wrong about that. 

She was so focused on watching the Decepticon somehow attached to the wall, that she’d lost complete track of where Rumble had gone. She was concentrating on not getting completely impaled when the red one launched off his perch, propelled by what was clearly a massive amount of strength as he sailed towards her. Now, Allison could hear the terrifying whirr of the drill as he brought it down into the ground, tearing through tile and concrete just mere inches from her feet as she stumbled sideways to get out of the way. 

Allison still had no earthly idea why they were after her. She didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, so why so much effort for one stupid human? Whatever was going on with the energon in her body clearly being back couldn’t have been that important to them, surely.

Throwing her off balance had clearly been the goal, as she was starting to get the unsettling idea that they wanted her alive. That didn’t mean they weren’t going to do a lot of damage in the process, possibly not even really aware of how fragile she comparatively was. When Allison lost her footing, she was barely able to regain her balance before Rumble once again burst out of the metal shutter of the store behind her. Before she could straighten to pivot out of the way, he swooped forward, scooping her off the ground by fisting the back of her clothing.

Not being hung by her throat was a small blessing, but Allison didn’t find it all that more comfortable being yanked off her feet like a misbehaving kitten. Her clothing was cutting into her armpits, and she couldn’t really lift her arms to try and relieve some of the pressure. She was past the point of exhaustion with no strength to fight back. If she disassociated and just let it happen, maybe it would hurt less and be over soon…

“Reeks of Autobot…” Barely noticing that the red one had stepped into her space to haunt her sensory range, she tried not to make eye contact as the words bit at her understanding. The voice was different from Rumble’s despite their visual similarities; more reedy with a barely perceptible crackle around the edges, almost like the threads of sanity were fraying. She didn’t understand what he said, but it dawned on her that maybe just simple retribution was why they were so intent on chasing her. Did she really somehow smell like them? That was a disquieting thought… “Let me gut it.” Having the sharp end of a drill hovering precariously close to her stomach was less than ideal.

“Soundwave wants the ape alive, Frenzy,” Rumble groused from behind her, almost like an older sibling talking to an unruly younger child. Were they… related somehow?  “Can’t figure out why…” Were they referring to the larger Decepticon that attacked Bumblebee?

Allison had almost successfully depersonalized her way into a foggy haze of acceptance of her fate, until she was brutally dropped back into the present when she suddenly found herself airborne. The oxygen was forced from her lungs in a strangled yelp as she was tossed like a sandbag, rolling in a disjointed heap several feet away. She came to a stop in the middle of the main plaza where the mall branched, facing directly in front of the double doors that would lead outside. They were taunting her. It was getting harder to pick herself back up every time she fell, the weight of her body becoming too much. She only managed to partially lift herself on her forearms, peering outside the doors looking for something she wasn’t sure of.  

“He didn’t specify what condition though…” The snickering voice behind her bounced around the empty center court of the mall, almost like the violence inherent in the words alone weren’t enough for maximum damage. It had to consume her. “Let’s play with it…” Allison couldn’t tell which of them were speaking anymore, but it hardly mattered. She was hallucinating light coming towards the doors fast, thinking it was death coming for her at a blistering pace until she realized what she was seeing were headlights. It was a car, and it wasn’t going to stop.

The doors exploded as the car barreled through, moving impossibly too fast to be driven by a human. Allison barely had time to try and drag her body out of its path, but seemingly with perfect awareness of its surroundings it skidded around her, sliding on its back wheels in a cherry red blur as it sideswiped the two stunned Decepticons who had no chance to move out of the way. Simultaneously, the car began to change shape, unfolding and increasing in size in a way that had become familiar to her because she’d seen it in the opposite direction. The momentum and speed carried the transforming shape some distance away where they finally stopped in a partial crouch, the two Decepticons being knocked clear through the other side of the building.

Allison had a moment of hesitation when she locked eyes with this unfamiliar savior, trying in vain to scoot in the opposite direction with the little strength she had left. Their eyes were blue which made her hesitate due to the recognition of a pattern. The outward astonishment on this newcomer’s face when they saw her meant they had not expected to see her, but there was something else; it was almost like they looked amazed.

“You’re… her!” They exclaimed with a lit up smile, the tone of excitement wildly off putting in the circumstances, but Allison immediately recognized that he shared the same Autobot symbol just at the cuff of his neck, or rather, the upper edge of the large plating on his chest on a black panel. “I KNEW IT—”

Before he could clarify what the hell he meant, the two Decepticons he had literally swatted away leapt up from behind him, one of them grappling with his black-plated head and the other latching onto his armored white arm. The sudden change in expression was startling, the open, almost achingly pleasant nature from before replaced with fierce revulsion. She didn’t want to stick around to see what would happen next, fearing she would get caught in the middle of yet another robotic battle. There was no point in squandering the opportunity born from her timely save, so mustering up the dregs of strength she had left she picked herself off the ground and limped to the mangled front entrance.

Allison’s hope for safety hung as loosely as the vestiges of the door. The Autobot that saved her stood between her and her assailants, but she couldn’t spare him a thought. Her entire focus was on putting one foot before the other, the gaping wound in the side of the building looming larger and larger as she grew closer. Light from an outside lamp, flickering as it too struggled to stay alive, cast shadows over the steps. She kept her gaze on the light, as if it were an anchor, her ultimate goal. She reached the steps that led up, and she struggled to find the energy to climb them, but she had no choice. Behind her, the sounds of fighting were a faint buzzing in her ear. She raised her knee, took another step, followed by another. And then, when she was midway, almost close enough to reach out and touch the doors, her stomach gave way as a new shape filled the hole, large enough to block out the dying light, and casting shadows on her already grim hope for survival. “Ravage. Eject.”

Whatever drive for survival Allison had left was short-lived. It was like she was stuck in some kind of nightmare; no matter how far she ran, they were always right behind her traveling at an identical pace. She heard the voice, almost auto-tuned and mechanical, then saw the red and instantly she knew that it was the one that had been fighting Bumblebee; the one they had called Soundwave. 

Fearing that this meant Bumblebee was dead somewhere, Allison felt the true weight of impending doom as she knew defeat was imminent. She was out of places to run. The mechanical whirring and noise from above preceded movement, then in a sudden blast the large figure of Soundwave suddenly lunged through what remained of the mall’s front entryway. She almost missed the flash of yellow latched onto his back as his body literally sailed over her, and that’s when Allison realized he’d actually been shoved with strength she couldn’t comprehend. 

Glass crunched to her right, and Allison snapped out of her daze long enough to see a large quadrupedal shadow slip through the shadows towards her. Turning to see Bumblebee—alive —kneeling on the collapsed form of Soundwave and trying to pin him down gave her a sudden surge of adrenaline that she didn’t know was possible. She would have continued out the doors, until she saw the previously glimpsed shadow suddenly blocking her escape. It was… a goddamned panther?!

Nothing was making any sense anymore. With a static-ridden snarl, the robot beast lunged. Allison was able to duck under the railing before leaping off the steps in a single bound. She didn’t know how she managed to stay upright, or where she got the sudden energy to leap over the counter of a coffee shop to flee through the back room. The rapid, thumping steps behind her were different than when she was being chased by the others. This one was fast, and catching up quickly as she ran through the back service hallways blindly. This was pure auto-pilot now; no thought or planning for where she was going, just away.

For a second Allison was convinced the Exit she was quickly approaching was going to give her trouble; instinct gripping her through the fear, but thankfully it flew open embarrassingly easy as her entire weight crashed against it. She stumbled out into a loading dock, the cold hitting her like a blast for the second time that night as she was finally outside. She passed through a security gate just before hitting the concrete of the dock. Shoving it closed behind her, it took barely a second for the heavy form of the robotic creature to stand on its back legs and knock both her, and the gate back with graceful ease. Allison’s body twisted as she fell, landing hard on her stomach with a crack as her elbow took the brunt of the fall. Immediately the attacking feline—whatever it was—was pinning her down. There was no evil mockery or waxing poetic about her downfall. Whatever this Decepticon was, it was brutal and efficient, and driven by a singular purpose. No sooner did Allison feel its weight on her, did she feel massive, powerful jaws clamp over her shoulder, sharp metal teeth piercing through clothing and skin.

The pain didn’t come immediately. Perhaps Allison was too stunned with what was happening to register the fact that it had bit her. Her body was cold as ice, almost numbing the sensation at first, until the pain became sudden and real, and that’s when she screamed. Her haggard cry almost drowned out the voice that shouted “Ravage!” before the heat of an energy blast zipped impossibly close to her skin. 

Suddenly the weight was gone, The closed jaws around her shoulder let go as the body they were attached to was knocked clean off and back through the way she’d come. Allison collapsed momentarily, disoriented enough that she couldn’t quite see the yellow shape crouched in front of her in the rain. At first she thought it was Bumblebee, but it couldn’t have been. They were larger, their face barely in view underneath the overhang of the loading bay, blue eyes pale and watching her. Weakly hanging onto consciousness, Allison could see that they looked frightened as they regarded the state of her, arm still holding up what looked like a weapon that was cooling in wisps as raindrops evaporated into steam.

They stared at each other for maybe seconds, the figure’s mouth opened and words came out, but Allison couldn’t understand them. All she heard was noise against noise, but it was faint, as if it were slipping away from her. The robot—they were obviously an Autobot— stood upright suddenly, and with a bound they were gone. Allison was left with nothing but the numb sensation of the last remnants of her energy leaving her body. She could barely lift her head off the ground now, but she could feel something warm and wet pooling under her cheek. Without being able to really look she knew she was bleeding. There was a moment of dislocation as the world started to spin before she was pulled into darkness.

[kemendin]

So I essentially keep to my own little sandbox when it comes to SWTOR, my own characters and stories. BUT, sometimes @certified-anakinfucker's Darrash comes over to play with Khel and Quinn. Thoughts happened, talks happened, sobs happened, and while the background circumstances are my fault, this scene is very much to be blamed on Cheeri!

Anyway, no polish here, just feels and word vomit. CW for mention of character death.

Darrash Nealev. The name dredges something out of the tangled mess that’s been steadily replacing Quinn’s once-orderly brain over the last few days. Muddied memories of a small, slouched figure, a cocky grin made wider by scars that split across warm brown cheeks. Green eyes flicking around, a gaze both distracting and distracted. Never keeping still, constant jittering, fingers fiddling with the settings of a sniper rifle long enough that it must threaten to trip him up - No. Not Darrash. Cipher Nine. An agent. An assassin. The thought catches in Quinn’s roiling brain, latches on, digging, twisting, so that almost before the door has closed again behind his unexpected visitor, Malavai has already moved - ramming the other man bodily into the nearest wall, pinning him there, as the business end of his blaster pushes hard into the hollow place beneath Cipher Nine’s chin.

For once, there’s no easy roll of a neck or shoulder, no cocksure remark dropped casually from the space between flashing teeth. There’s almost no reaction at all, and for some reason Quinn finds this infuriating, and his blaster bites harder, forcing the agent’s head back - the only movement Nine has made, save for the barely perceptible trembling of his lithe body against the wall.

Their eyes meet, furious blue boring into now-muted green, and Quinn actually sees it, for the first time - true fear fluttering in the other man’s gaze. And hell, he should be afraid, because the stubble is thick on Quinn’s too-pale jaw and the hollows of his eyes are burning with unsummoned tears and his teeth are bared as though he’s only a moment away from tossing aside the blaster and using his jaws instead to rend the life from Nine’s throat.

But then words croak from that throat, thin and terrified:

“You - you think I did it.”

And in these last few moments, in the wild rampage of his grief, that’s exactly what Quinn has thought. Because who better than the infamous yet unknowable Cipher Nine to carry out such an act - to peer through the scope of a prototype sniper rifle and drive a Force-rending bolt into the unsuspecting back of the Empire’s Hand?

A tremor runs through his own hand as the memory grips him again; he shoves it aside by jamming the blaster even harder against the underside of Nine’s chin, till the man’s head is clamped in the vise formed by Quinn’s need for retribution and the unyielding wall behind him. He should say something, he needs to say something, but it’s lodged in his throat as though he’s the one trying to swallow and breathe beneath a blasterpoint. So instead it’s Nine who speaks again, soft, scared, not quite a plea, but an entreaty nonetheless:

“Quinn, please think about this. If I killed Khel, would I be standing here unarmed?”

Rationality, logic - these things have not been heeded or welcomed in Malavai’s broken brain. All semblance of reason has given way to the tidal wave of heartbreak, rushing in to fill the terrible hollow left behind by Khel’s death. 

But now they nudge gently at him, circling, coaxing him to stop, and breathe, and think. Quinn stares at the agent, sucking in harsh breaths that tinge his tongue with the mud he can smell hanging on the other man. He searches the Cipher’s still stiffened face for any hint of deception, of guilt, but there’s nothing, nothing but fear and a fragmented pain, and slowly, wretchedly, realisation finally takes hold.

It wasn’t him. It wasn’t Darrash.

And yet, even as he feels the fury draining from his limbs, Quinn remains there for another moment, the blaster still pressed tight to Darrash’s tilted chin, because if it wasn’t Darrash he doesn’t know who, and now he has no outlet for the anguish still building unbearably inside him.

But then the moment passes. Quinn withdraws the blaster, steps back, pivots away from the terrified agent; a second later he hurls his weapon into a corner of the room, letting out a sound more akin to a wounded nexu than a decorated officer of the Imperial military; and then he buries his face in his hands, as though skin and flesh and bone might somehow be strong enough to hold the magnitude of the grief once more retching from his mouth.

[cricketnationrise]

For the ficlet fest: 8:39pm, Central Park, Alex Claremont-Diaz

And congrats again!

thank you 💜💜💜 i have for you: super soft vibes feat. some playing with hair and a metaphor that alex would never admit to in a million years. enjoy!

want your own ficlet? rules here.

❤️🤍💙❤️🤍💙

central park, 8:39pm

A soft press of lips to his forehead brings Alex half out of that hazy place between sleeping and awake. He keeps his eyes closed, trying to hold onto the moment just a little longer, unwilling to let this perfect day come to an end.

Henry had taken one look at the bags under Alex’s eyes this morning and declared that they were both playing hooky today. Alex protested at first – he still had a ton of reading to do before the new semester kicked off – but Henry refused to budge. Instead, he called in sick to the shelter and turned off the rest of Alex’s alarms before bodily dragging him back to bed. Shortly after that, their mouths were too busy for Alex to protest – not that he wanted to.

After a leisurely brunch, Henry pulled Alex into his arms for a rewatch of The Martian. Alex stretched while the credits rolled, grinning when he caught Henry blatantly staring where his shirt had ridden up. Henry just shrugged, unrepentant, and went to the kitchen.

Alex glomped onto his back, shuffling in step with Henry as he moved around the room, packing snacks and drinks for both them and David into a cooler. He didn’t know what kind of hoops their security detail had to jump through for this little outing, but fuck if he wasn’t over the moon when they arrived at Central Park hand in hand.

Now, fingers thread slowly and gently through his hair, occasionally moving down to stroke his cheekbones and jaw. Alex can’t help but lean into the loving caress and he hears Henry chuckle quietly. He blinks his eyes open, not wanting to miss the easy laughter on his boyfriend’s face. The last drips of sunset peek through the canopy above Henry, softening his sharp jaw and bright blue eyes into something more at home in an impressionist painting. Alex could stare at him forever, would willingly get lost in his paint strokes and fall into the swirls of color.

“There you are.”

“Hi, baby.”