#same thing goes for rid drift

[yuckyyuna]

ANNOYING

baby x f!huntrix reader

warnings : annoying baby, mentions of other huntrix & saja boys, flirty baby, not proofread

yuckyyuna : idk what this is ngl, but if yall want a pt2 then maybee, it's gonna be suggestive tho

"and the award for artist of the month goes to... huntrix!" the announcer’s voice echoed through the stadium as you and your members walked up to receive your flowers and trophy.

rumi stood center stage, holding the mic with both hands as she thanked the fans for their endless support.

you and mira exchanged a glance, then turned to glare at the saja boys who clapped politely from their seats.

they were ruining everything. the honmoon, what you had all worked so hard to build. and just when you were finally close to turning it golden... they showed up.

"i hate them. can’t wait to get rid of them," mira whispered, her eyes locked on abby and romance.

you nudged her shoulder gently, signaling her to stay calm, then turned back to the crowd with a practiced smile for the cameras.

all you needed was the right moment. a time when the fans weren’t watching.

as soon as the ceremony ended, you all slipped out of your seats and followed the boys before they had a chance to disappear.

you found them waiting in a narrow alley behind the venue.

"stop following us," abby muttered, hands buried in his pockets.

"don’t be so rude to the ladies," romance added with a smirk.

you held out your weapons, but the boys simply shook their heads and glanced up toward a blinking red light of a security camera.

"what would the world think if their favorite band was caught hurting the next rising stars?" jinu said, his head tilted slightly.

as rumi stepped forward, ready to attack, zoey quickly grabbed her shoulder, holding her back.

"not now," she whispered, her voice low as she frowned and shook her head. "this’ll only make things harder for us."

while the others argued, your eyes drifted to the saja boys. and then you saw him.

baby.

the one who irritated you more than anyone else.

his innocent act in front of the fans, the soft smile, the heart hands, the love for pastel colors. everything about him screamed fake, and yet everyone bought it. the fans adored him, ate up every moment like it was real.

it only made you want to get rid of them more.

he had his hands over his ears now, pretending to be scared under the watchful eye of a nearby security camera.

you glared at him, seething.

as if sensing it, he turned to meet your stare.

and for a second, the act dropped.

his expression shifted, eyes narrowing as a slow smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth. he scanned you slowly, head to toe, like he already knew just how much he got under your skin.

your fists clenched.

you were this close to knocking that smug look off his face.

"let's go, y/n," zoey gently called, her voice snapping you out of it.

baby quickly dropped the smirk, returning to his perfect little persona like nothing ever happened.

only you had seen it.

mystery gave a lazy wave as the four of you turned to leave, the tension still thick in the air.

you glanced over your shoulder one last time, eyes locked on baby.

he was already looking away.

today, both groups were invited to play a few games together as part of a joint promotion. bobby had insisted the four of you go since the saja boys were stealing too many fans, and you can't fall now. not when you're all so close

you sat in the studio, the two groups lined up on opposite sides of the room. after a quick greeting, the saja boys did the same.

"today, we’ve got huntrix and the saja boys!" the mc announced, voice full of excitement. "they’ll be playing a round of ‘who handles the most spice!’ who do you think is going to win?"

fans screamed out their guesses, names echoing through the studio.

you waved toward the crowd and smiled as the cheers only got louder.

a staff member handed each of you a bottle of hot sauce. you glanced at the others.

"we are so not losing," mira said, gripping her bottle tightly.

rumi gave a firm nod, already unscrewing the cap.

"3... 2... 1!" zoey shouted, and the game began.

you all started drinking, the heat hitting instantly. one by one, members from both sides tapped out.

rumi’s ears turned a furious shade of red. abby passed out in his chair. mystery put his bottle down with and shook his head.

you kept going, chugging what you could, your face burning from the inside out.

baby, on the other hand, looked completely unfazed. sitting calmly, not even breaking a sweat.

"it's between baby saja and y/n from huntrix!" the mc announced, pointing dramatically at both of you.

you shut your eyes, determined not to lose. but after one final sip, your hand faltered. you had to put the bottle down.

your eyes opened just in time to see baby tip his bottle back and finish the last drop like it was water.

he set it down gently.

your jaw tightened.

baby waved sweetly at the fans, flashing that signature smile. then, with a casual shrug, he winked and the fans went wild.

you forced a thin, polite smile, doing your best to keep your composure.

he sat comfortably, legs spread, soaking in the attention. then he glanced your way, smiling again.

another wink.

your eye twitched in annoyance.

the games finally came to an end, and fans slowly began filing out of the studio, their cheers fading into background noise. rumi, mira, and zoey were gathered near the exit, deep in conversation with bobby.

you excused yourself quietly, saying you needed the bathroom.

your boots echoed softly against the studio floor as you walked backstage, weaving through clusters of staff moving equipment and wrapping up the shoot. you mumbled a few apologies as you slipped past them.

then, out of the corner of your eye, you spotted it...bright blue cotton candy hair.

baby.

he moved effortlessly through the crowd, murmuring 'polite' "excuse me"s before turning a corner and slipping into a room, closing the door behind him.

you paused.

where was he going alone?

curiosity tugged at you. maybe... just maybe this was your chance. to figure out what the saja boys were really planning. to understand how they were tearing apart everything you'd worked for, the honmoon.

you followed quietly, pushing the door open with a soft creak. stepping inside, you closed it gently behind you and flicked on the light.

the room glowed softly, sterile and quiet.

"following a demon into a room all alone? not the brightest idea, y/n."

his voice came from near the mirror. he stood there, fluffing his bright hair with a smug grin, eyes meeting yours through the reflection.

you immediately pulled for your weapon and pointed it at him, taking a step closer.

"drop the act," you said sharply. "why are you really here? and why the hell are you demons pretending to play nice?"

his gaze flickered briefly as the faint outline of glowing purple marks shimmered around his neck, then disappeared.

he turned to face you fully, giving your weapon a slow glance.

"how are we supposed to talk when you're already waving that toy in my face?" he said, crossing his arms casually.

you scoffed, tightening your grip. "toy?" you snapped, raising it higher.

you moved to strike but he vanished in a soft puff of pink smoke, only to reappear behind you.

you spun around instantly, ready for anything.

he held up both hands in mock surrender.

"okay, okay," he said, a lazy grin playing on his lips. "calm down. that could actually hurt."

you rolled your eyes, annoyed beyond belief.

he was infuriating.

and somehow, he knew exactly how to get under your skin.

"put that away, then we can talk, huh?" he said, nodding toward your weapon before his eyes flicked back to yours.

you held your glare a moment longer, then slowly lowered your hand, though your grip didn’t loosen.

"i swear, if you try anything, i will—"

"i know, i know," he interrupted, casually waving you off. "i’ve seen you kill demons before."

he shrugged like it meant nothing and stepped closer.

"gwi-ma isn’t too happy about that, by the way," he added, tone almost teasing.

you scoffed under your breath.

"i couldn’t care less," you muttered, standing your ground as he moved in, now only a breath away.

he tilted his head slightly, studying you.

"mmm, i know," he said softly, his voice dropping just a little. his blue hair fell gently across his forehead, catching the light.

you felt his eyes scan your face, lingering.

"you waste a lot of energy glaring at me," he said with a small smirk.

your eyes narrowed immediately.

"not enough clearly," you said, your voice sharp.

his smirk only deepened.

"it’s cute," he said, voice low and amused. "mystery pointed it out, actually. how much you glare at me."

he tilted his head slightly, watching your reaction.

"nowadays, annoying you feels more satisfying than destroying the honmoon."

you didn’t say anything, but your eyes locked on the faint shimmer of purple marks flashing across his neck before they vanished again.

your grip around your weapon tightened but before you could lift it, he disappeared in another puff of soft pink smoke.

he sighed from behind you.

"you’re really ruining the moment by trying to kill me, you know?" he said, casually.

you didn’t bother turning around.

you could see him perfectly through the mirror in front of you, standing there behind you like this was just another conversation.

he stepped closer, eyes locked with yours through the reflection.

"this look you wear when you hate me..." he said, eyes trailing over your expression. "i gotta admit..." he shrugged, lips tugging into a crooked grin. "it’s attractive."

"and your innocent act is disgusting," you snapped, your tone sharp.

he smiled, unfazed.

"not to your fans."

he moved in even closer. you felt his fingers rest lightly on your waist, and yet you didn’t move.

you should have.

but you didn’t.

his reflection watched you carefully.

"thought i would’ve been stabbed by now," he said, raising an eyebrow.

you clenched your jaw, saying nothing.

"guess you don’t hate me as much as you say you do then."

you finally turned to face him.

his purple marks were now fully visible across his neck, and yet you didn’t flinch. he just tilted his head, watching you with that same unreadable expression.

"you tell anyone i was here," you said, your voice low and cold, "and i’ll kill you myself."

you raised your weapon, the blade resting just beneath his chin.

he didn’t move.

instead, a small smirk pulled at his lips.

"whatever you say, miss hunter."

[bbydoll18xx]

I’ve Got a Wand and a Rabbit (Part 2)

You give Paige some guidance when it comes to self-pleasure.

Paige Bueckers x reader

Part 1

Masterlist

Word Count: 2.4k

Themes: mentions of sex, sex toys, and some ~self-pleasure~

A/N: hiii guys!!! I honestly cannot get over the love for part 1. That was probably one of my favorite things I’ve written since I’ve been here on tumblr, and I’m so glad you guys shared the love 💜😚

I hope part 2 doesn’t disappoint!!

Here we go!!

~

“You shoulda seen the way she was blushing! I’ve never seen her act that way!” KK roars to the rest of UConn’s women’s basketball team, the girls leaning forward in extreme interest as KK recounts how Paige had turned into a bumbling mess in your presence the day prior. 

“God, KK, shut up. I did not,” Paige whines, her face growing warm with humiliation. 

“There she goes again,” Jana teases, and the girls erupt into another round of laughter. 

“Y’all suck,” Paige pouts, walking off the basketball court and heading towards the locker room for a much needed reprieve. 

The taunting had yet to stop since she had stepped foot in the sex shop a week prior. KK and Ice had hunted down valuable information that a certain someone had worked there, and they had forced Paige to come inside, knowing you were standing behind the counter.

Paiges’ thoughts drift back to that day, as they had nearly a million times the past week, and she muses over the way your hair had flowed over your shoulders and your lips glistened pink.

Her crush on you was unwavering, the same way the ocean waves continuously kissed the shoreline. 

And despite what nearly everyone had perceived about Paige Bueckers, she was absolutely terrified when it came to expressing her feelings. Especially about you. So she bottled them up, settling for watching you from afar with a hope that maybe she’d muster up the courage to talk to you.

That was until her teammates had made the decision to do so for her. 

She really couldn't be all that mad at them.

Her crush on you had started three years ago. The two of you had shared a fondness for studying in the same area of the library, where it was quiet and away from the loudness of your respective roommates. Paige’s grades had always been good, but the daily motivation of seeing you, tongue occasionally peaking out in concentration and your body nestled in large, comfy-looking sweatshirts had Paige securing her place on the Dean’s List semester after semester. 

And with everything Paige did, she completely lacked subtlety when it came to you, and it only took a few longing glances in your direction for Ice and KK to connect the dots. 

~

“Oh, c’mon you can’t be mad at me,” KK whines, running into the locker room after Paige. 

Paige rolls her eyes. “Well, you ain’t gotta put me on blast.” She sits on the bench, putting her head in her hands.

“You’re being way too dramatic. She offered to show you how to use the damn toy,” KK stresses, and Paige’s face goes pink again.

“Soo,” she drags out the word with a thoughtful expression on her face. “Just take her up on the offer and boom you can have sex and then live happily ever after!” 

Paige’s eyes widen as KK, in the midst of her rambling, doesn’t see Coach Geno walk in behind her. 

Based on the look on his face, he had definitely heard KK, and he clears his throat, causing KK to whip around, her hand flying over her mouth as she pieces the situation together.

“Shit,” she mumbles under her breath, sending a weak smile over to Geno, who just waves her away, a disgusted grimace on his face.

But as Geno rambles on about how the practice went, Paige’s thoughts drift back to the way you suggested to help her. 

Would you really want to? Paige was navigating something completely new, and it was stressing her the fuck out.

If only there was a way to get rid of the pent up anxiety.

~

On the other side of campus, you were having a similar dilemma. You had been trying to work out what had come over you yesterday when you had boldly and uncharacteristically offered to teach Paige Bueckers how to use a vibrator.

The interaction plays in your mind for the millionth time, and you slap a palm across your forehead in frustration.

“I am so fucking stupid,” you groan, catching the attention of your roommate who was working on a paper at the seat across from you at your most favorite spot in the library.

“What’d you do now?” She asks, and you divulge her in yesterday's interaction with Paige, and her eyes widen.

“Dude, you have been drooling over her for the past three years, and you’re telling me you’re not going to wife her up?” She asks in a hushed whisper.

“I think she was just being polite,” you sigh. “We exchanged numbers, but I’ve been too scared to do anything.”

Charlotte shakes her head in mock derision, “I raised you better than that.”

You sit there a moment, contemplating. 

“Fuck. Okay, I’m gonna do it.” 

Pulling out your phone, you pull up Paige’s contact information, your fingers shaking slightly as they ghost over the keypad. 

“Hi, still need some help? If not, no big deal. Just thought I couldn’t leave a pretty girl stranded,” you read out to Charlotte as you compose the text, and she claps loudly in approval.

“God I hope she doesn't think I'm some sort of sex addict,” you moan, looking at the delivered sign under the text. 

~

Back in the locker room, Paige nearly chokes on a swig of water as your text appears on her screen. Aubrey, who is sitting next to her, slaps her on the back a few times, before leaning over to take a good look at what was causing the reaction.

Aubrey hoots loudly as she reads the text and promptly snatches Paige’s phone out of her hands to show it to KK, who had proudly deemed herself the captain of yours and Paige’s ship.

“FINALLY!” KK yells, fist pumping the air with great enthusiasm, and the whole locker room erupts into laughter again. 

Paige rereads the text. And then again. Your words were flirty and sure, just as they had been yesterday, and Paige is once again reduced to a blushing, simpering mess. 

She looks around the room, eyes wide and a shy grin on her face. “What do I say?” And the girls erupt again.

“Tell her you wanna fu—” KK starts eagerly before Azzi, who was sitting next to the younger girl, covers her mouth with a sharp look on her face. KK moves Azzi’s hand away, pouting and muttering to herself about how she’s “just tryna help Paige get some pussy.”

With pink cheeks and a pounding heart, Paige composes a reply, hiding her phone from the curious eyes of her teammates, hoping it seemed way more confident than she felt. You had a strange effect on her, reducing her assured ways into a bumbling mess, teetering on the edge of falling into madness.

And it was just the beginning. 

After all, you had yet to even touch her. 

~

That night you stand in front of Paige’s door with a pounding heart, determined to keep up the facade you had attached to your being, and as she appears on the other side, it is cemented. 

There was just something about seeing a bashful Paige Bueckers that makes your confidence soar, and you send her a cheeky smile, reveling in her mannerisms.

Paige leads you into her bedroom, and you immediately spot the purple vibrator laying atop of the comforter. 

You break the ice. “So what’s stopping you from finishing?” You ask, looking her in the eyes.

An embarrassed chuckle leaves those pink lips, and she rubs a hand over the back of her neck. “I guess I just keep gettin’ distracted,” she mumbles, and you nod in understanding.

“I like to think about someone,” you say boldly and pointedly. “If you close your eyes and immerse yourself into a fantasy, it’s almost like they’re there with you.” 

You watch as she takes a deep breath, like she’s mentally preparing for what she says next.

“Can I try again? And you can walk me through it?” 

The air leaves your lungs, surprised by her suggestion, and you agree before any other thought could cross your mind. 

The situation was something out of a filthy romance book, and as Paige undresses down to her boxers and her sports bra, you thank every star you had wished on the last three years for letting this happen. 

Paige settles onto her pillows, her chest rising and falling rhythmically, and with shaky hands, grabs the vibrator.

“P,” you say softly, and her eyes fly back open, meeting yours. “Use your hands first. Tease yourself, and let the arousal build up,” you suggest kindly, and she nods, putting the toy back down.

She runs her hands across her toned stomach, causing your own to lurch with want. Her hair was sprawled out on the pillows, and her bottom lip was red and plump from biting it, and despite just getting started, she looked completely fucked out. 

You secretly hope the image never leaves your memory.

Paige continues to tease herself, her fingers delicately dancing across the fabric of her boxers, and a quiet moan leaves her mouth. Her eyes are still closed in concentration, and you wished you could peer into her thoughts, hoping you were the object of her most intimate fantasies. 

And as if she could read your thoughts, your name leaves her mouth in a broken whimper that has you wanting to jump her bones and connect that sinful mouth with yours.

She’s panting now. Her eyes open, those crystal clear baby blues pleading for more. The unspoken words spoken between the two of you bridged a formidable bond, and you know at that point that this would lead to a whole lot more than offering friendly tips on masterbation. 

“Need more,” she whispers, her lithe body squirming on the bed hinting at her growing arousal. 

“Okay, baby, now take the vibrator and start at your tits and run it down your stomach,” you instruct, your voice nearly trembling. 

The quiet buzz fills the room before it’s cut with Paige’s whimpers as she runs the toy over her now exposed breasts. The pointed, pink peaks of her nipples make your own strain against the lace of your bra, and you shift uncomfortably in the gaming chair you are sitting in. 

The toy gets dragged over her belly, going lower and lower until it grazes the waistband of her underwear, and with a frustrated sigh, she lifts her butt to rip off the offending fabric. 

And now she was laid out bare in front of you, occasionally peeking at you, making sure you were still watching. 

You could not look away, and your body subconsciously leans forward toward the blonde girl. 

She places the buzzing toy on her clit, her back arching off the bed in response, moaning in pleasure. Her hips jump, grinding against the vibrator, desperately seeking an orgasm that had been denied from her several times over the past week. 

“Doin’ so good for me, baby,” you whisper, enthralled with the display in front of you, and Paige opens her eyes once more at your praise, sending you a needy look and a pout. 

“Keep going,” you encourage, and she adjusts the vibration, a higher pitched buzz ringing through the small room. 

Paige’s skin glows with a subtle sheen of sweat and arousal that you want to meticulously lick, and her whimpers grow louder as she squirms, her eyes never leaving yours. 

“Fuck, gonna cum,” she groans, and you bite your lip, her noises effecting every fiber of your being. 

And with a loud moan, your name leaves her mouth, along with a long string of expletives, as her back arches off the comforter again. Her chest heaves as the orgasm rips through her, and her eyes roll back in overwhelming pleasure.

Your gaze rakes over her, taking in the gorgeous woman laid out before you, watching as she slowly comes down from the high. 

“Oh my god,” Paige breathes heavily, suddenly feeling exposed and shy again. 

“That was probably the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” you admit, your own cheeks flushed with arousal, and Paige’s eyes trail to your peaked nipples straining against the fabric of your shirt. 

“I was thinkin’ of you the whole time. And that was the best fuckin’ orgasm I have ever had,” she responds, putting her underwear back on, much to your displeasure. 

“Thank you,” she adds shyly.

You shrug, moving to sit next to her on the bed, you run your hand across the flesh of her thigh, goosebumps erupting in its wake.

And before you can even make your own move, Paige connects your lips in an impassioned kiss that adds fuel to the fire that was raging in your core. The kiss was messy with unrestrained want and need, swapping unsaid words that had been brewing in both of your heads over the last three years.

The two of you had unknowingly fallen in love with the thought of each other, and now, here you were, falling right into each other. 

And it wasn’t going to stop there. 

~

The next afternoon, you are back at work, your mind continuously going back to the delicious display of Paige’s naked body. You had been on the edge all day, dying to get home to rub one out. Or four, if you were being completely honest with yourself. 

Sitting in the back room in front of the fan, desperately needing a cool off, you hear the familiar jingle of the bell on the front door, alerting you that someone had entered the shop. You take a few deep breaths, trying to compose yourself. 

It was hard to be cordial when you were surrounded by sex toys.

You walk out of the back room, your eyes immediately trained on Paige who was now standing at the front counter with a huge smirk on her face. 

Blushing you walk up to her, pressing your lips to hers, the taste of her mouth sending your body up in flames once more.

“What’re you doing here?” You ask breathily.

Paige gestures towards the package she had set on the counter with a wide smile. “Figured I’d add to the collection. Wanted to buy something for your pleasure,” she adds casually.

Your belly lurches as your eyes land on the strap on, a deep purple and six inches of thick rubber.

“Fuck me,” you breathe, feeling yourself drip with excitement at the thought.

“Oh, I plan to,” Paige grins, and she pulls you in for another kiss.

Things were just getting started.

~

This was a blast to write!! Also I am obsessed with shy, blushy Paige

xoxo katy

~

You can now read part 3 here

[jnw1813]

Bath time

You and Conquest bathe together. Featuring: touch-starved Conquest, my sleep-addled mind's poetic prose, and soft intimacy.

It was a miracle he even fit, honestly. Settling further into your bathtub, Conquest let out a small, almost silent sigh as the warm water eased into his muscles, forcing them to relax.

As you got in as well and settled in his lap, facing him, a smirk lifted his lips as he eyed you through a lazy, half-lidded eye. A small growl rumbling from his throat as you poured liquid soap in your hands, honey-thick and dripping messily onto his skin as you reach for him.

You wash his shoulders and chest kindly, switching to the use of a sponge to thoroughly soap him up, foamy and bubbly, a pastel tint to it from the colour of the body wash.

Had he ever known such a gentle touch during bathing before, he wondered, brow dipping as his breathing deepened, sweet scent filling the air as your washed beneath the water, across his broad abdomen and stomach, thick with muscle and a healthy layer of fat; it was almost ticklish, the way you scrubbed along his waist with surety. Like this was some daily task of yours, and not a gift to him, something unique and mesmerisingly new for him.

For Conquest heavily doubted he'd ever even been washed with such gentleness as an infant. Certainly not, he thought. All he'd ever known growing up was the Viltrumite Empire's army barracks with its harsh teachers and even harsher instructors. Bathing back then rarely lasted more than five minutes, always rushed, always cold, always scrubbing his skin raw with plain soap to remove the smell of rot and filth.

Yet here I am… Conquest thought, head tilting back with a bone deep sigh as you slid soap-slick hands up and around his neck, gliding effortlessly along his skin, squeezing at the tight flesh of his nape and collarbone, tension having sunk deep into his skin. You rid him of it with each squeeze, with each delightful knead of your fingers into his thick flesh.

One would think that, what with how invulnerable and strong he was compared to you– and how weak you were compared to him, that he wouldn't be able to feel it; that you wouldn't be able to offer him these little delights.

Oh, how utterly wrong such a thought is. Just because he's been born and raised and trained to shrug off pain, to toughen up to all sorts of attacks, doesn't mean the same goes for pleasure. The Viltrumite way has only made him more sensitive to these types of things, more vulnerable‐weak-hungry for these blissful touches, a taste of heaven whenever you deign to give it to him.

Because Conquest, as a Viltrumite, has grown so used to cold showers, blasts of icy cold liquid hitting him from above, that he's now been left vulnerable to warm baths, letting his body sink deeper and mind drift away. It's nothing like the boiling waters or lavas he's been trained to withstand, but a simple, human delight.

He's only known the kiss of a fist before you, and so true kisses immobilise him. The only intimacy he's known is that of somebody's body pressed against his as he kills them, their blood warming his skin, so now when you pull him close for a hug, to make love, to simply be close to him– he's weak, unable to even think of an escape.

And why would he want to, when you're his salvation, his heaven, his god?

Viltrumites aren't much of a religious race, if they ever were, but Conquest can see the appeal in kneeling in reverence now, so long as he can look up and see you as he does.

A low murmur brings him back to the present, and he hums in response.

"Tilt your head back, hun." You murmur into the steamy air of your bathroom, shampoo in hand. He does, awaiting the next gift you give him.

He savours every moment with you, don't you know?

A pleased hum rumbles in his chest as you wash his hair, massaging his scalp also. He'd be embarrassed by it– whether 'it' be the act of being cared for like a child or his balding head– if it didn't feel so damn good.

You're close, maddeningly so. He can feel all of you, and can imagine a few ways to repay you for your kindness later on, when your lips brush his brow and he melts.

Like a fuckin' puppy, he thinks, wrapping his arms around you, absently wondering how he'd resisted the urge so long.

Tilting his head back, you pour a jug of water over his hair, rinsing the shampoo out, ever gentle with it, mindful of soap getting into his eyes– heh, like he'd even feel it. But that doesn't matter to you. It never does. So what if he was invulnerable? To you that didn't mean a thing. He still deserved kindness. Still deserved to be treated with a gentle hand.

A giggle escapes you, making him crack his eye open.

"What are you laughing at now?" He scoffs, fond.

"Nothing…" He raises a disbelieving brow, and you break. "You look funny with your hair all wet and limp, 's all. Like one of those fluffy cats that gets wet." You explain with a teasing grin, making him sigh and shake his head at the ridiculousness of your statement.

Most Viltrumites won't even speak to me and yet you mock me. My fearless, brave little mate.

"Whatever you say, darlin'." He rasps in response, withholding his amusement as he sinks back into bliss, your fingers now combing through his hair.

[evillysilly]

2 | monster under the milkman's bed.

content warning: nsfw (lewd), porn with minimal to no plot, sex on the floor, sub francis (as usual), doppelganger (WITH TENTACLES!) male reader

a/n: my friends helped me out with this big special thanks to them 💜 also shout out to that one person who was the only person that reblogged my first post LOLL

(,,> ᴗ <,,) , (๑/////๑ " ) , (≧ヮ≦) 💕

Francis was starting to think he was having really bad hallucinations, he's been checking under his bed every night, before he goes to sleep, because, he swore he saw tentacles under his bed, peeking out, like it was teasing him. He would also hear growls and grumbles underneath him when he tries to sleep, this was one of the reasons why he's been having lack of sleep.

he was getting more and more on edge, every damn night he would hear those noises, but when he checks, there's always nothing. he hopes to god— if there even is one— that he would finally catch this monster under his bed. he doesn't believe that he's going insane at all, i mean— if doppelgangers exist in this world why wouldn't monsters under beds exist as well?

well, after a few restless nights, Francis finally drifted off to sleep..

but what he didn't expect was a wet dream to happen.

a wet dream, a wet dream about the damn monster under his bed.

it was.. so vivid. the tentacles were teasing him, deliberately stroking his skin, undressing his pants, playing with the bulge that was being covered by his boxers, Francis couldn't help but felt himself harden even more from the touch.. maybe, just maybe, he has a thing for tentacles.

because the next thing he knew after waking up, he sat up on his bed with pearls of sweat trickling down his temple, he felt something weird, something wet underneath on what he's sitting on.

he pulled his blanket off, revealing his sheets wet by his morning glory (or well.. morning wood!), he looks at it in disbelief, breathing heavily. he runs his fingers through his hair, sighing and getting off the bed, he has to get rid of the sheets and wash them now, even when it's in the middle of the night, he just didn't really expect this to happen. it was.. weird. why would he dream of a monster under his bed doing those despicable things to him?

just remembering it made him shudder, he hastily takes the sheets off the mattress, wanting this to get over with. what the poor milkman didn't know, that you were watching him, and you were ready to finally expose yourself to him.

before Francis could even react, you pounced yourself on him, pinning him on the floor, as Francis finally realizes what was going on, he lets out a gasp, looking at you.

you looked human enough, but the only thing that caught him off guard was how you lunged at him, your teeth are razor sharp, and are those.. tentacles?

the. the same tentacles he's been seeing the past few nights? those tentacles are attached to your back. could it be? well, it does make sense. but why? why were you under his bed?

one of your tentacles gripped the milkman's throat, making him choke out another gasp before letting out choked noises.

"be quiet." you sneered at him, your hands were against the floor at either side of Francis' head, leaning close to him. you were so close to him, so fucking close, it was making him slightly dizzy.

as your tentacle loosen its grip on the milkman, you looked down to Francis' crotch, making him squirm under you. you hummed in amusement, looking at the tent in his currently tight boxers.

"what's this?" you tilt your head, one of your tentacles slithering towards it to touch it, making Francis bite his lip, trying his best not to let out a mewl growing in his throat.

you couldn't care less about that at the moment, you were curious with what's up with this human's body, the same tentacle continues rubbing against the bulge as it pulls the boxers down, displaying the hardened cock that Francis has, looks like it was already leaking with pre. interesting.

you never knew that humans can go through such things as this, but it was amusing, it made you wanna go further, your tentacles pulling his boxers all the way down as one of them teasingly places its tip inside the human's hole.

the tentacle on Francis' neck seemed to let go completely, joining in with the other tentacles, you could hear Francis let out a soft moan, his hips bucking, you could feel how desperate the human is, which made you smile even more.

a tentacle wraps itself around Francis' shaft, slowly stroking it as the other tentacle that was placing its tip in him finally plunges inside without any warning, making Francis yelp, his body shivering and his back involuntarily arching to your touch. "mm.. nghn- p- please... mm..." his voice was hoarse and weak, making you smirk even more.

"don't worry, I'm just trying to get used to this." you soothingly said, your strokes slowly increasing its pace, same with the tentacle thrusting in and out of Francis. "mm.. oh- agh- mmn..." those whimpers, it made you crave for more of those noises.

you grit your teeth, another tentacle was shoved inside him, letting another noise out of him, the tentacles inside him immediately found those bundle of nerves that has pleasure hastening for his cock, more pre-cum leaking out of his slit as you thumb it, making him let out a cry even louder.

"you're really cute like this." you utter, continuing your relentless torment on him, you could feel your tentacles hitting the milkman's prostate nonstop, more moans and cries spilling out from him. "'mmn- I- I'mm..!" he couldn't even continue his jumbled of words, for it was cut off by his own cry, his body shaking uncontrollably, his cock shooting ropes of cum all over you and the tentacle that was wrapped around it.

you let out a chuckle at the sight, your tentacles pulling out as the other one was slowly milking him dry, you couldn't help but wanted to taste him, so you did, the cum-coated tentacle going inside your mouth, tasting Francis with a hum.

as Francis watched, he lets out a whine, his chest going up and down, body still shaking as his muscles relaxes a bit. the tentacle pulled away as more showed up behind you, looking at Francis with a cruel smile.

"don't think we're done yet, human."

[holylulusworld]

Cabin at the lake (5)

Summary: You have a much-needed vacation. There’s only one problem…

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Assistant!Reader

Warnings: SB being an ass, tension, arguments, vacation hijacking, sexual themes (talk about), misogynism, groping, slow burn, angry reader, injured reader

A/N: Another drabble.

Cabin at the lake (4)

Cabin at the lake masterlist

Breathe in, and out. Breathe in, and out. Getting rid of Soldier Boy, not even after you called Vought, didn’t work out. If you cannot get him to leave you alone, you simply try to ignore him for the next few days.

Soldier Boy, just like any other guy, loves to bathe in attention. You made the mistake of fighting, yelling, and screaming at him. It only made him cockier.

Your change of tactic will make sure that Soldier Boy will lose interest sooner rather than later.

“There you are,” he coos while shamelessly staring at your exposed legs. You tried to get and stay away from Soldier Boy at the same time. Therefore, you sneaked out of the cabin to sit near the lake.

No such luck. Barely fifteen minutes later the nightmare on bowed legs found you. You’d love to yell at him or punch him to death. It wouldn’t change a thing. Soldier Boy would still annoy you, and you’d have more broken limbs.

“Did you take your meds?” He sits down next to you, eyes immediately drifting toward your legs. “You’re in a better mood. I bet they gave you the good stuff. Do you want to share?”

You keep on staring at the lake, ignoring he sits too close for comfort. “The silent treatment?” He laughs in your face. Nothing seems to work when it comes to him. “You know that you cannot rid of me, baby. I’m in for the long haul.”

Exhaling sharply, you try to calm your anger. Your hand still doesn’t feel better, and you don’t know for how much longer you can resist swallowing the meds like candy to endure his presence.

“You should go back inside, and lay down,” Soldier Boy moves impossibly closer. “Sitting here, in the cold is no good for your hand. I can help you relax, though.”

He smirks at you, expecting to get a reaction out of you. “You’re not man enough to help me relax,” you don’t know where your answer came from, but you’re proud of your comeback.

Soldier Boy furrows his brows. He opens his mouth to say something but nothing comes out.

“If that was all,” you say as you slowly get up from the ground, “I’d love to dull the pain in my hand with some nice pills.” You dip your head to look him straight in the eyes. “The good stuff…”

He watches you with amusement. True to your words you took the pills, and boy, did they kick in. “How many did you take?” He snickers while tickling your arm with his fingertips.

“Fuck off,” you slap his hand away and turn around. “I wanna sleep. Can you not vanish?” You giggle while talking. “I hate your stupid face.” You smack your lips. “Now I’m thirsty.”

“Hmm…you’re even sexier while stoned,” he dips his knee into the mattress to get a better look at you. “You know, drugs heighten your senses. I could give you the orgasm of your life.”

“Get off,” you grumble. He can’t even let you enjoy the effect of the pills. “Fuck yourself. You’ve got big hands to rub your dick.”

“Why would I beat my meat if I have you around?” He snorts. “You shouldn’t take so many pills.” Soldier Boy moves closer to lie next to you. “I better keep a close eye on you tonight. Maybe your pussy wants some attention too.”

“Fuck—” you yawn loudly and give up. If he tries to touch you tonight, you’ll punch him with your good hand.

“Morning, drug queen,” he snickers when you begrudgingly walk inside the small kitchenette at the cabin. You hid in the bedroom for as long as your stomach allowed you to go without food. “Slept well?”

You glare at him, and huff.

“How could you not sleep well with your hero around,” he concludes and goes back to work. He slices another apple, whistling a tune. “I bet you felt safe for the first time in your life.”

“Safe. Right,” you grunt. “By the way, your doctor lied. My hand still fucking hurts, and I can’t move my fingers. He said it’ll heal within two days.”

He stops the knife to look over his shoulder. “Your hand still hurts?” For a second, he seems concerned. “You sure?”

You sneer at him. “No, I love being in pain, and I hate using both hands.” You deadpan.

“I bet you miss your hand,” he grins. “You can’t touch your sweet pussy with only one hand.”

“Dude, I can flick my pearl with both hands,” you chuckle when his eyes drift toward your crotch. “There are other things I want to do with both hands. Like strangling you.”

“I’d love to see you try,” he winks at you. “I bet you’re good at choking a guy.” Soldier Boy rams the knife into the chopping board. “Before we get to the fun, let me call the doctor. I bet they fucked something up again.”

He cleans his hands on his pants before getting his phone out of his pocket. You huff when he immediately yells at the person answering the phone.

“I want to know why her hand still hurts. No…no. It’s still fucking broken!” Soldier Boy walks out of the cabin. He’s furious, and you wonder why…

Part 6

Tags in reblog.

[heartfullofleeches]

I've really been missing ff reader interacting with the bathroom succubus, they were a quick favourite of mine. Maybe like the reader getting bored and braiding their hair.

Standing outside the smoldering remains of the kitchen, your eyes gradually drift in the direction of your coworker as the flames rage on within the building. Screams of the firemen sent to take care of the fire drown beneath the groan and snap of wood. You probably could've gone the rest of your life without learning ninety percent of the repairs in that building were at the sacrifice of human flesh, but same as with the rest of the horrors you witness you shove it to the back of your mind until it inevitably haunts your nightmares.

"Whelp.... There goes my weekend. Lambchop will be fine in the freezer, but I know they're worried sick about me. Anyway, I'd say it'll be about...." You gadge the time with your hand, measuring the minutes it takes for human bone to fully merge with the floorboards. "Ten....fifteen minutes before things are back to normal. Can you do that thing you do with your hair so I can braid it?"

"You mean this?"

The succubus combs her fingers through her hair, the messy, uneven ends of her pixie cut growing longer, finer with each stroke. Her hair stops at the small of her back by the time she's finished, the dark roots of her natural hair color peaking from the same blonde dye still stain the bathroom walls.

"Why do you even dye your hair when you can change your hair and eye color whenever you want?"

"Sometimes it changes just from me thinking about a color. Gave an old guy a heart attack when my hair turned the same shade of red as your hat. It was kinda funny at the time, but then he started haunting the bathroom which is my territory so I had to get rid of him."

"Are you talking about David? Aw, I kinda liked that guy... He was going to teach me how to do my taxes. Sit down here, please."

Pointing down at the only fresh plot of grass this parking lot had to offer, you plop down beside the succubus as she sits with her legs tucked under her. Even sitting down she was a few inches taller than you. Like other parts of her, her height fluctuated depending on the day and her mood. You prop yourself up on your knees as you part her hair in three sections, weaving one over the other as she fishes her phone out of her pocket.

The succubus pretends to check through her messages, your eyes meeting every single time she opens the camera to peer over her shoulder. Staring down at her phone, you catch a glimpse of the stars. It isn't every night you pay attention to what's up there.

"This is nice...."

"Yeah....." The succubus positions an elbow on your knee - the shutter of a camera not going unnoticed as you look up at the night sky. Your hands function on autopilot, threading her hair down the curve of her spine. You can make out the tips of her small horns at this angle, hidden beneath the fluff of her curls.

"Hey, Lye...."

"Yeah?"

"You know you don't have to burn down the kitchen so I'll spend time with you, right?"

"Yeahhhhh, but your break wasn't for another hour. I needed my you time now."

"....Fair point."

[saddled-on-stars]

Hellooo, may I request something Keatlejuice x reader ?

I was thinking of something inspired from the “do you think I’m qualified” scene from the first movie and basically the idea is: Beetlejuice keeps flirting with reader, which hasn’t been very successful so far… But at some point his voice switches back to his “normal” one and reader pauses because since when does he sound so good??

He notices the reaction and kind of uses it to his advantage to make reader swoon hehe

Thank youu :))

okay- don't mess this up, don't mess this up, don't mess this up... HI THERE MY LITTLE LOVELY CONSTELLATION! Okay, full disclosure, I've never watched either of the Beetlejuice movies. I don't really know how the model exactly works, so I'll make it to similar to the musical; where you just find him on the roof. (I HOPE THAT'S OKAY, DARLING) So yeah, I've never watched either of the movies... I KNOW THE PLOT OF THE FIRST ONE THOUGH, AND I WILL EVENTUALLY WATCH THEM BOTH I SWEA- As far as Keatlejuice goes, I don't know a thing about that scene, and nothing came up when I looked it up, so I'm just going to go off of what you typed. 😀 Please feel free to criticize if it's inaccurate. OKAY, HERE YA GO, LOVELY <3 Happy reading! - Star ★ -★-★-★-★-★-★-★- Trigger Warnings: Explicit Language, Suggestive Themes, Mentions of Break-Up -★-★-★-★-★-★-★- Key: ★ (Y/N) = Your Name ★ (L/N) = Last Name -★-★-★-★-★-★-★- - ★ - Spooky Smooth - ★ - Lying on your bed, listening to some music, it's about 2am. You have your earbuds in, connected to your phone, and are wearing some comfortable shorts and your favorite hoodie. You begin fiddling with the drawstrings, thinking of who gave it to you, then you frown in sadness. It was given to you by your now ex-partner, and they were a jerk. A TOTAL JERK. It all ended at dinner last night. But you hung on, and you still can't figure out why. But that's not why you're sad. You're angry and upset and heartbroken all at the same time, for letting yourself believe that they loved you. It crushed your heart into billions of pieces when they repeated to you that you just weren't good enough. They weren't the first ex, definitely not, and so, as usual, you thought they were the one. You poured your heart and soul into that relationship, only to have your heart shattered. You saw them in the bed with that fucking chick from some cheap-ass bar. You were so angry that you did things to them that you weren't proud of. You impaled all four tires on their small old Nissan Versa, to be specific. You wanted to do so much more, but your heart couldn't take it, and it crushed you in the most tragic way possib-

You drift back to reality as you hear something shuffling above you. It sounds like it's coming from the attic or the roof. You assume it's some sort of critter, and almost fix your earbuds back into your ear, until you hear something... sobbing, perhaps? Sniffling? Letting your curiosity get the best of you, you push your earbuds back in, still listening to the sad, yet comforting music, and you climb out of your window onto the roof. You climb up to the top, and quickly find yourself captivated by the stars. It seems to ground you for the first time you've felt content in a while. You pause your music, hearing something else. It's the sound of a small flyer blowing in front of you. Curiously, you grab it, wondering what it might say. Betelguese - The Bio-Exorcist. Speak my name three times. Betelguese? Like the star? Eh, sounds strange, and this flyer seems pretty aged and old. But how'd it get up high on the roof? You consider calling whoever this 'Betelguese' person is. If they're a bio-exorcist, then they could get rid of your nasty ex. After all, that bitch has some shit comin'. "Bettle-goose, Bettle-goose, Bettle-goose." You close your eyes, expecting something crazy to happen, but the only movement and sound are the stars twinkling and the crickets below chirping. You suddenly see another flyer blow by, and you pick that one up as well. Beetlejuice - The Bio-Exorcist. Speak my name three times. Now you understood. Whoever this person is, they must be here, and so, you put your earbuds back in their designated case, preparing for what's to come. You hold your hoodie in a self-hug, bracing yourself and you begin: "Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice." You close your eyes once again, fearing that something large might happen that might spook you, but instead you hear a raspy voice say, "It's showtime~" Suddenly, a giant puff of green smoke appears in front of you, and you're slightly startled, but your curiosity overpowers your fear. Standing there before you is some sort of creature? No, this must be the Beetlejuice guy. He's in a black-and-white striped tuxedo, complete with some typical black shoes. Though, it's all dirty, covered in green spots from here to there. His hair is a pale green, sticking out in all different directions, and his eyes are surrounded by black circles, and you can't tell if it's a fashion choice or not. "Hiya, Babes!", he says, his voice still raspy and rough. "H-Hello..", you reply, slightly still startled. He comes over and sits on the roof in front of you. "So, I heard ya' called m'name three times! Tre!", he says as he's holding up three fingers, his fingernails looking a little overgrown. 'He knows Italian? How strange...', you think. He puts his elbows on his knees, and lays his head on his hand, in a relaxed position. "So what's a pretty lil' thing like YOU doing, callin' a bio-exorcist?", he says, his eyes filled with flirtation. Damn. Straight to the point, you guess. "I-I've had my heart broken by some bitch, and I need you to get rid of them...", you say, while trying to avoid eye contact, as you can feel your eyes show your anger. His other hand comes up to his face as well, until he's resting in both of his hands. "Well then, who's the bastard, and we can make a deal, Babes! Don't worry, I don't bite-", he says as his hands come back to his knees and he leans closer.

"Unless... if you're into that sort of thing, Babes..", he says as he winks, his voice suddenly changed. It's no longer raspy and rough, but DAMN, it's smooth and gentle. You feel your cheeks flush, definitely flustered from his flirtatious remark. "I- uh, uhm-...", you stutter, trying to find the words to respond. He chuckles at your reaction, and he replies to you stuttering, "So, what do ya say, Babes? Wanna make a deal with the devilishly sexy?”.

He's so close to your face now, it's almost burning with electricity. You nod slowly, not knowing how else to respond. You've been holding your breath for a long time now, but your lungs are far from their limit. He winks, and brushes your thigh with his hand, and snaps his fingers. You release the breath you've been holding, as you realize that he's dissappeared into a cloud of smoke, leaving you breathless. "Damn, that voice..."

- ★ - Written by Saddled_On_Stars - ★ -

[nosferatuix]

I would actually be interested in you talking more about Geto and Atsushi Sakurai!

FINALLLYYYY i thought nobody was going to ask me about this, thank you so much. buckle up for the incoming yap sesh

(edit: i posted the draft accidentally but it should be okay now that it's complete! sorry i'm sleep deprived idk what i'm doing)

so, picture this. eleven year old geto suguru, who has had enough of being tormented by oily black mass dripping down street lamps that talks to him whenever he has to walk home from school by himself. everywhere he goes, those things are also there. he sees them clinging onto the backs of the people he's known all his life as neighbors and family friends in the small town he lives in with his parents. he watches them suck the life out of people like leeches that hang off of their bodies. he hears them speak in these distorted voices, always repeating the same couple of phrases that they do but somehow always know suguru is the person they should be talking to, almost like they know no one else but him can see them. his parents have already told him countless times that there was nothing under his bed, in the closet or hanging from the ceiling, that the disappearances that have been happening lately have nothing to do with the monsters he claims to see and that he would need to see the doctor again if this talk about these creatures continues. it's a dark time for him because nobody seems to get it and if he gets fed another round of antipsychotics that don't even make them disappear like the doctor seems to have convinced his parents it would, he's going to lose his shit. he has to do something about the thing under his bed and it, like all the other ones, literally tells him what he has to do if he wants to get rid of it – so he does what the things tell him to do and eats it.

the talk about the things under his bed, in the backyard, dripping down the street lamps, hanging down from the ceiling, ends as abruptly as it started. he's always been a child that kept to himself, but he's completely quiet now. and it worries her. his mother, who had only been chalking this monsters talk up to her baby boy's imaginative mind before he started to attend school. his mother, who only realized the direness of the situation after suguru started bawling his eyes out every single evening he came home running, out of breath as if he'd been chased after, as he begged her to believe him when he said that those things are real and they want him to eat them. his mother, who finally convinced her husband that she was fearing for his health and that this wasn't just about a highly imaginative mind, and who did everything she could to ease her child's pain even if it meant taking the train with him to regular doctor appointments in the city just to get him that medicine.

and now, after months of the medicine not working even one bit, like a switch being flipped off, the talk ends and suguru stops talking. the same boy who had the biggest appetite out of all of her friends' kids, whose energy ran so high that they had to let him attend martial arts classes with the older kids down the block, suddenly starts wanting to excuse himself from the dinner table after two bites and goes straight to bed, wrapped up in blankets despite the summer heat. and she's worried sick because she knows she doesn't get him and they're drifting apart and she doesn't know how to make him feel better.

so she tries to introduce him so some stuff she thinks they could bond over. some stuff she used to like, still does, that she thinks could resonate with him as well. so she brings some of her old stuff out. her favorite band and her favorite musician. vhs tapes of their music videos, interviews, all the stuff she had collected in the 90s.

she puts it on and watches her boy's eyes light up like the sky again. she watches him admire the makeup and the long hair and the velvety voice and the perfect balance between femininity and masculinity from the prickling tv screen. she watches him grow a pale pink flush on his cheeks, watches him rewatching the tapes over and over again as he memorizes the interviews and the lyrics to the songs. and just like that, they have something in common again. appreciation for the art. something that seems to bring them together as much as it brings suguru a distraction from whatever he's been battling with inside himself.

is this a queer analogy? sure. suguru's entire character screams queer analogy in all-uppercase letters. atsushi sakurai was known to be advocating for lgbt topics back in the 90s. he's talked openly about loving whoever he wants to love. he's someone who i can see a preteen suguru idolize and want to be like. from the androgenous vkei style choice down to the soft-spoken nature and the beautiful long black hair, i just think he was someone suguru based some aspects of himself off of.

the short answer is 11 year old suguru experiencing what is called a gay awakening the moment he sets his sights on a pretty guy wearing makeup and deciding "I Am Going To Become Him"

bonus: he's a big fan of the band. during their first year, when shoko first made fun of him for obviously trying his hardest to look like sakurai, he was actually very flattered and took that as a compliment even though shoko was calling him a wannabe, basically. they introduced satoru to the music itself since he didn't know much and he liked it enough to get three tickets for them for the december 2005 tokyo concert. cue the three kids in a trenchcoat scene in the pink lighter. i was thinking of including a scene of them telling riko the story of how they were invited backstage and that suguru almost had a heart attack when the band members talked to him. (suguru deserves nice things and i think having people from the real world interact with fictional characters is so fun.) and i was also thinking of writing down a one-shot after sakurai's death in the final universe from the pink lighter, something that would take place post-epilogue and would involve shoko finding out about his death from the news and immediately facetiming satoru to discuss how they were going to handle suguru's devastation when he eventually finds out about it as well. (suguru would be with yuki at this point so they would call her to tell her to never ever ever let him watch the news if she wants to get any work done in the next week or so lol)

[in1-nutshell]

RiD Lithia and Bumblebee confession i just want them to be happy

Lets see how that goes.

Hope you enjoy!

Bumblebee and Lithia confession?

SFW, Platonic, Romance?, Cybertronian reader

RID

Things in the Bee Team were a bit tense.

That is at least with the team’s leader and the team’s doctor.

The team didn’t know the specifics, but something happened between those two that was making Lithia make snappy comments and glaring at Bumblebee like a Decepticon.

Bumblebee in return just ignored her and pretended everything was okay.

There were some attempts to see what was going on…which were less than successful.

Drift, Denny and Sideswipe walk over to Bumblebee. Sideswipe: “So… what’s with you and Lithia?” Bumblebee tenses a bit. Bumblebee: “Nothing’s going on.” Denny: “You sure about that?” Bumblebee: “Nothing is going on between us. Just drop it.” Sideswipe: “This doesn’t have to do with—” Bumblebee glares at him, daring him to continue his sentence. Sideswipe decides to stop. Bumblebee stalks off. Denny: “This is getting ridiculous.” Sideswipe: “Right? Hopefully Grimlock, Strongarm and Russel had better luck than us.” Drift: “Agreed.” Meanwhile... Lithia: “You want to what?” Grimlock: “We fight!” Russell: “If Grimlock wins, then you have to tell us why your mad at Bumblebee.” Lithia crosses her arms. Lithia: “And if I win, we drop this discussion? I’m understanding that correctly?” Strongarm: “That’s correct.” Lithia pauses for a minute before going to her side of the sparring arena. Lithia: “If you can pin me down before 3 minutes are up I’ll tell you and more.” Strongarm: “That works.” Russel: “Ready!” Grimlock and Lithia: “Ready!” Russel: “And... Fight!” 3 minutes later… Grimlock is trying to get Lithia off his helm as she securely wraps her arms and pedes around it. Grimlock: “Get off!” Lithia: “In 5 seconds!” Grimlock: “Just tell us!” Lithia: “Never!” Russell: “I did not expect her to last this long.” Strongarm: “I heard she trained with Arcee… which would explain some things honestly.” Russell: “Who’s Arcee?”

The Team wouldn’t be so concern about this behavior if it lasted 3 days.

…It’s nearly been 2 weeks.

Bumblebee was the first to look like he might start cracking, but Lithia still had the same fire as day 1.

Then it happened…

Bumblebee’s team had gotten a signal of a injured Cybertronian.

Lithia came with the team to see what was going on.

It was a trap set by Steeljaw.

In the heat of the fight, the Con leader took advantage and had taken Lithia, yelling for the fight to stop or risk the Bot’s medic getting her spark torn out.

Steeljaw: “Stand down Autobots! Or our precious little medic gets it!” The bots stopped seeing that he was telling the truth. Lithia had both her servos behind her back on her knees with his pede firmly placed on the back of her knee. Lithia looked livid at him. Bumblebee matched the same lividness. Bumblebee: “Steeljaw! Let her go!” Steeljaw smirks. Steeljaw: “I don’t think that you’re in any position to be making any demands.” One of his claw’s trails to her neckcable, a bit of pressure on the side making her gasp a bit as a bit of energon spilled. Lithia: “You sick son of a—” Steeljaw: “Shshshshsh… There are children here.” Bumblebee looked downright murderous, but there was nothing he or his team could do without jeopardizing her safety. Steeljaw: “Good, good. Now, this is what you’re going to do. By sunset you will send us 5 of our Decepticon comrades and in exchange you’ll have your sweet little medic back in one piece. Deal?” Bumblebee glares at him before looking at Lithia. She was shaking her helm, wincing when Steeljaw readjusted his tight grip. Steeljaw: “I’ll take that as a yes. Remember Bumblebee, sunset for your medic.” With that Steeljaw, Lithia and the rest of the Con’s disappeared after a smoke bomb bursted. Bumblebee: “LITHIA!”

The Con’s and Lithia just seemed to have vanished into thin air.

Fix-It tried to find Lithia’s signature, but it stopped working as soon as the Team lost sight of her.

This did nothing to help the team calm down.

Especially Bumblebee.

He was blaming himself for Lithia being captured and not being aware of her surroundings.

There was a lot of discussion on how to rescue Lithia without letting go of 5 Con’s in the process.

Sunset was fast approaching and so was the end of Bumblebee’s patience.

Lithia was in the Con’s base, and she needed his help!

He was not going to let the love of his life spend another second in danger!

…wait what…

Just when he thought that today couldn’t be anymore stressful, Bumblebee finally realized that he had been helm of pedes in love with his best friend.

…

…

The team is in front of the scrapyards gate. It would be another hour before sunset, and they needed to act fast. Bumblebee: “All right team! Let’s roll and—” BANG! BANG! BANG! Something was pounding on the scrapyard’s door. Bumblebee: “Fix-it, who’s there?” Fix-it: “Lets see… Sweet Solus Prime! Its Lithia!” Bee immediately opens the door before anyone could stop him. There she was. Lithia in all her slightly dirty glory. She seemed surprised seeing everyone at the door. Bumblebee: “…” Lithia: “…” Bumblebee: “…” Lithia: “…Are you going to let me in or—Okay!” Bumblebee grabbed her servo and pulled her in, trapping her in a tight hug. Lithia: “Bee I’m fine.” Bumblebee just hugs her tighter. Bumblebee: “You’re safe… you’re safe…” Lithia could feel him shaking a bit and hugged him back, gently stroking his doorwings in a calming manner. Lithia: “I’m here… I’m here Bee…”

Bumblebee eventually let Lithia out of the hug.

But his servo was tightly intertwined with her’s.

Lithia didn’t seem to mind and retold what had happened since earlier that day.

After arriving at the Con’s base, the Con’s really didn’t see her as a threat, uncuffed her and placed her in a holding cell.

A holding cell with a large vent in the room.

Lithia hurriedly went through the vents and found one leading to the outside of the base and booked it.

On the way back to the scrapyard, she was sure that there were some Con’s following her, so she headed into the city to see if she could lose them.

Lithia eventually came back to the scrapyard after losing the Cons thanks to a last-minute street race and a helpful red sports car.

By now it was nighttime and everyone decided to head for a nice recharge.

Everyone earned it after today’s events.

Bumblebee still held Lithia’s servo as they walked in slow silence back to her designated ‘habsuite’. Lithia: “So… where you really thinking about setting those Con’s free?” Bumblebee: “…At one point—” Lithia: “Which I’m glad you didn’t.” Bumblebee: “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Lithia: “I am.” Bumblebee understood the tone she took with that comment. Bumblebee: “Lithia… I… I’m sorry for what I said before.” Lithia paused a bit. Lithia: “And what exactly are you sorry for?” Bumblebee: “For just referring you as ‘just a medic’.” Lithia nods a bit as a small smile creeps on her face. Lithia: “Well, maybe I’m sorry for taking things a bit too far.” Bumblebee: “You held a grudge for 2 weeks.” Lithia: “You want to make it 3?” Bumblebee shakes his helm and raises his servos in surrender. She just laughs quietly. Lithia: “Well… I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then. Have a good recharge, Bee.” Bumblebee: “Wait!” He reaches out and holds her servo stopping her. Lithia raises a curious optic. Lithia: “Yes?” Bumblebee’s voice box felt like it was glitching again. Bumblebee: “I… It’s just…” He takes a deep vent. Bumblebee: “There’s a new creak I found a few days ago. Would you like to go there tomorrow for patrol?” Lithia blinks a bit in surprise but squeezes his servo warmly. Lithia: “I would love that.” The pair slowly detangle their digits as they walk to their respected areas with dumb grins on their faces. Meanwhile somewhere else… Ratchet looks up with a sudden jolt. Optimus looks at him. Optimus: “Ratchet? Is there something wrong old friend?” Ratchet: “I can’t explain it… but something just happened. Can you feel it?” Optimus looks around and feels something too. Optimus: “…Agreed. I will contact Bumblebee first thing in the morning.”

[florhibiscus]

iv. Bourbon.

No longer writing for TIME atm, check out my KEANUVERSE post here

Time Masterlist Next Previous

Pairing - John Wick x fem!reader

Summary - You and John are being accompanied in the Continental, waiting, you give John a little good luck before he goes to handle things with other people. After he leaves you sit a little while deciding to get fresh air which leads to a past you wanted to get rid of.

Word Count - 1k+

Warnings - Hints at sex, making out/kissing, liquor (idk)??

iv. Бурбон

7:00 p.m

You say swirl the remaining liquid in your glass well on your 4th, maybe 5th glass. "I asked Charon if he could bring up some Bourbon, your favorite. Maybe you can relax a bit, 'cause I assume you have business to take care of?" Glancing at John you notice the rigid expression, "massage maybe..?"

He doesn't respond looking down, you watch him with unwavering patience as you sit in silence, you've grown accustomed to these moments when he retreats in thoughts.

He doesn't reply right away, his gaze fixated on the ground. A mix of frustration settling in your head wondering 'what the hell is wrong with him.'

Before he could say anything which he wasn't you reach down to grab his chin gently stroke the rough stubble on his grown out beard. "I think you should keep your beard, it looks good." You say lightly brushing your lips on his, to your surprise he gently, but instinctively puts his hand on the small of your back pushing you closer. "John." You murmur softly exhaling, continuing the kiss, leaning forward you both  find yourself mixed in pleasure and anticipation, bodies molding together almost like a renaissance painting, before falling on the bed simultaneously lost in the moment.

8:00 p.m

John had left to go see Winston, meaning the room was a whole lot quieter.. leaving you lost in thought, you lay in the same position, eyes growing heavy as you feel yourself drift off trying to fight the urge. Your body is weary, and laxed, but your body is also telling you it needs respitment after tonight.

8:05 p.m

John stands across from Winston, their silence being punctuated by the music and loud voices. Winston's gaze fixed on John solely his gaze studying his sharp eyes, a mixture of curiosity perhaps.

"Hello Winston." John gazes at Winston, his eyes maintaining a steady and calm stare, his tone smooth and grim.

"Jonathan.." Winston gazes softly at John, a smile tugs on the corner of his lips seeing John settle in the chair in front of him. He slowly removes his glasses holding them in his hand focusing on the conversation at play.

...

John had silently come back up to the room, focused. Iosef is now at the Continental, it's crazy how someone that kills your dog, steals your husband's car, and leaves you unconscious on your own floor is right below you. Lost in your thoughts you glance over at John watching him loosely and observantly, methodically tightening his vest and securing a few hidden weapons - knives tucked in his shoe, a gun tucked in his waist. You can tell, you always have like today how heavily this situation is on his mind yet he always remains steadfast.

Your sultry tone catches John's attention, his focus slightly shifting from his preparation and concentration. Raising your eyebrow with a playful glimmer, but your composure remains serious in a mocking manner.

John for a brief moment turns his gaze slightly toward you, acknowledging your request with a simple "yeah" before continuing his preparation. You confidently stand up and approach him, his expression remains unwavered, but there's fondness in his eyes, your voice lingers in the air carrying weight he always recognizes, the fondness speaks volume, even with no verbal action.

"I love you.." Your voice slightly hesitant whispering, before your lips linger against his in a tender kiss.

...

C'est le temps de l'amour, le temps des copains

Et de l'aventure

Quand le temps va et vient, on ne pense à rien

The sound of music playing all while you sit on the bed slipping on your heels. Before leaving the room you reach reach for a gun..for emergency purposes and a sense of security as preparation

9:30 p.m

Lost in your thoughts walking the streets of New York not far from the Continental, your mind swirling from the busy New York street just to get fresh air, to see your husband, and maybe just maybe a cigarette. You ponder over the whole point of coming with John if you aren't really doing anything. You had informed Charon that you were going for a walk, or looking for something to eat so John would know. Approaching the corner you pick up on Russian speech. You instantly retreat feeling the unsafety of the situation.

As you attempt to back away, Viggos' men spot you outside, you didn't think they would be there, but it seems they were looking for more than just John. They approach one of them speaking up.

"You think marrying John makes you better than any of us don't you, you're a coward." The man glares at you automatically recognizing who you are.

"Shouldn't you be on the lookout, don't want you to get in trouble by Viggo, you wouldn't want that would you?" You say sarcastically mirroring his expression with a slight frown.

"Viggo sent us, he has eyes everywhere.." The man ponders making eye contact with a maliceful attempt. "And your husband, he has no clue does he? Still keeping secrets."

Before you can murmur any other words a strong arm wraps around your neck, the sudendess leaving you no time to react and a disarmed gun. You struggle weakly for a moment, your vision swims as you feel yourself losing consciousness, darkness closing in.

10:00 p.m

Slowly you regain your consciousness, your vision coming into focus as you take in your surroundings, you realize you're sitting in the back seat of the car, four other men present. Viggo is sitting directly in front of you, a gunman to the side, a driver piloting the vehicle, and a mysterious man with a bandaid.

"We meet again." Viggo speaks up once he notices you're awake and somewhat conscious speaking once more. "You're a very smart girl, you always have been."  Viggo offers you a cigarette, pushing it towards you as a peace offering.

"I don't smoke,"  your tone sharp and biting, "John's gonna kill you Viggo and your son you know it, Iosef knows who I am I took care of him myself, he came in my fucking home and killed my dog, took my husbands car! I'm done, I always have been." Your  voice rises with each word, anger and determination fueled in your words.

Viggo chuckles at you, a smirk on his face. "Well.. you never said no to one, you always bought a pack." He says chuckling, "Iosef was upset wondering where you were when you left, you went ghost to marry a man, a man that killed all the men in that same building."

"It's for a good reason." You say firmly, gaze flickering to the man in the passenger seat, the car comes to a stop, men stepping out from a random building footsteps making faint sounds against the asphalt.

[nat-20s]

THE GIRLS (FOURTEEN AND DONNA) ARE FIGHTIIIINNNGGG'

aka Donna has some lingering Feelings on the whole mind wipe thing and she's gonna shout about it <3

The Mess That's Made of Us

She didn’t mean for an outburst. They were having a calm, rational, adult discussion, not a fight. She didn’t even want a fight, not really. But The Doctor, he couldn’t just let it go and let her sort out her big stupid feelings on her own. No, he had to needle, he had to inquire, he had to push. He had to say that “everything had turned out all right, in the end”, and oh, that so wasn’t the fucking point. Nearly choking on the words, she yells out, “What would you have done?!”

After he startles and she has a moment to be thankful no one else is home right now, he’s shockingly even when he replies, “You..you know what I did.”

She lets out a right and proper growl of frustration. Clenching and unclenching her fists a few times in an attempt to ground herself, she grits out, “Not what I meant.”

“Donna, I don’t-”

“I meant, you pedantic little-”

She cuts herself off, takes in a deep breath in and out through her nose, and tries again. “I meant if our roles had been swapped. If I had been the one to take that year away from you, if you were about to have an essential part of the person you had become stripped all away in a moment. How would you have reacted? What. Would you. Have done?”

“I..”

She doesn’t let him finish, collect his thoughts, say pretty words that would fix it all. See, she can push, and push, and push too, now can’t she, Doctor? Generally, Donna doesn’t consider herself a cruel person. Sometimes oblivious, sometimes obnoxious, sometimes inconsiderate, but not cruel. But she knows she’s capable of it. She knows, if she so desires, she can hurt someone. She’s not trying to hurt The Doctor, except that she is, not to wound but to pull him to where she is right now. To make the grief and the rage and the conflict be shared. So she keeps going. “It’s not the same though, right? No, of course not. One year out of a billion, maybe more, that doesn’t make much of a difference, does it? Like forgetting what you had for breakfast that morning, barely a breath. I bet it would’ve been so easy, for you.”

“Donna!”

When he says it, his face is hard, and frustrated, but not cold. That’s something she’s still getting used to, with this new-old face. He used to have the coldest rage she ever saw, standing like a stranger. Now, he doesn’t tend to rage at all. It’s enough to make her clamp her mouth and actually listen for a second.

“Respectfully, what the hell are you talking about? Barely a breath, easy for me? Do you really believe that our time together meant that little to me? Do you really not understand by now? I mean, look at my face, Donna. And this is the second time that I’m completely rearranged myself in memory of you! One day with you changedme. One full year with you? Rewrote me.

So yes, removing my time with you would’ve made a difference. It would’ve made all the difference in the universe. And I don’t know what I would’ve done. If I had to get rid of the part of me that was made from you. I’m not sure I could.”

Such pretty words. And, well, the face in front of her right now does suggest some truth to them. But she can’t quite believe them, and she can’t quite look at said face, so instead her vision drifts over to the Tardis parked outside their kitchen window. Folding her arms and staring listlessly, she counters, “Yeah? Don’t you think you would’ve, I dunno, blinked and gone ‘oh that’s odd’ before putting on one of those manic smiles and inputting the coordinates to Venus in the 15th century, and that would’ve been that?”

Out of the corner of her eye, The Doctor’s face goes through a rapid series of motions that she can almost sort out, before stopping at realization. Oh. She didn’t like that one bit.

“Ah, that’s what you think did happen, huh? You think I flew away in my box and had magical adventures and found someone else in a day. It would make sense, right? Start pallin’ around with the nearest redhead I could find, forget all about me ol’ mate Donna, it’s not like she was gonna remember, so why should I?”

She sniffs, and tilts her face up, and resolutely does not let any tears fall. She also does not look at him.

“Donna, there was no one else, not until I was someone else. You want to know what happened, after I lost you? I broke. And then died. There was no me without you.”

Fuck. He changes his tune then, and she’s pretty sure they’re no longer fighting. They’ve always lacked a talent for it. He comes closer, placing both his hands gently on top of her still crossed arms, and moves until she has to look him in the eye. He even throws in a smile. Damn him to hell, he knows it’s near impossible for her to see her best friend smiling and start smiling a bit herself.

With a breath that borders on being a laugh, he continues, “But you! You got married, and yelled at parking attendants, and had a kid, and you existed. And I can’t regret that, I can’t. So I’m sorry, I really am. I ignored your pleas, and I took some of you away, and I’d do it again. I’d do it every time.”

She lets out a sigh and lets her arms drop to the sides. “I know.”

Wiping a hand down her face, she mixes a huff and a shrug. “Honestly, Doctor? I think I’ve already forgiven you.”

With a nod, she stands up straight and tells him straight, “I think I forgave you the moment it happened. I just..I just need time. I know it’s been years but I’ve only been able to think on it for a week.”

“I understand. Hell, there’s things that take me a couple thousand years to process, so.”

Donna rolls her eyes and let’s out a small chuckle, before opening her arms and saying, “C’mere, spaceman.”

The Doctor quite readily does, and the hug fits just as naturally as it always has. They take a moment to breathe together, and Donna gets to listen to the comforting double rhythm of the two healthy hearts in his chest. The silence is comfortable and the sharpness has eased.

When she pulls back, she can’t help but ask, “Wait, second face? What was the other one?”

“Ah. About that-”

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️ Soooooooooooooooooo this entire everything speaks to me and fuck helena and ramon and idk how many I'm allowed to request but like.... do want

Hahah the max is 1k so let's do that:

---

“He could have. Luckily he wasn’t near the vehicle.”

“If he had…” Chris mumbles. “I would have wasted all that time.”

Buck surges with guilt. Fear. What could have been, if he hadn’t chosen carefully. He needs to be incredibly careful, moving forward.

“You can’t think that way, Chris,” Buck says. “This isn’t your fault, and you couldn’t have known. The important thing is that you’re both together and okay now, right?”

Chris shrugs. “I feel really bad.”

“You know your dad isn’t mad at you, right?” Buck asks.

Chris nods. “We talked about it this morning.”

“Then you’ve gotta trust him, Chris,” Buck says. “It’s all going to be okay. You’re both going to move forward.”

“With you?” Chris asks.

Buck’s heart tightens. “Yeah. With me. You know you guys can’t get rid of me.”

“Good,” Chris exhales. 

“No one’s going anywhere,” Buck promises. Ironic, considering Chris was the one who left. “I promise.”

⚖️

Luckily, the damage to Eddie’s leg isn’t too bad. He won’t need surgery or any serious intervention. Some time in a brace, and he should be as good as new. They have him on some strong pain meds that make him a little loopy. He sleeps most of the drive back to Los Angeles, spread out in the back seat for his knee. 

“I love you both,” he murmurs before he falls asleep. “You’re both the best.” 

Chris chuckles under his breath. “Dad, you’re high.”

“No…” Eddie yawns. “Haven’t smoked pot since I was seventeen.”

“Wow,” Buck says as Christopher bursts out laughing. 

And Buck starts to feel sort of at ease again. Sort of. 

⚖️

It’s late by the time they’re home. Really late. Buck helps Eddie into the house and into bed while Chris sort of lingers. Looking at everything. His room. The photos on the wall. Buck’s not sure how to process the expression on his face. 

“He didn’t change anything,” he whispers to Buck when Buck emerges to grab Eddie a glass of water. 

“No,” Buck says. “He didn’t.”

“Why not?” Chris asks. “I tried to change lots of stuff.”

Buck nods. “Did it help?”

Chris shakes his head. 

“Then maybe neither of you was trying the right thing,” Buck shrugs. 

Chris inhales deeply. “Yeah. You’re probably right.”

Buck smiles. “Do you need anything before bed? Anything I can do?”

He’s already carried Christopher’s bags in and changed the sheets on his bed to something fresh. He wishes Eddie were up for a proper goodnight, but he’s in and out of sleep, more or less zonked. Not that Christopher blames him, Buck knows.

“No,” Chris says. “I’ll come say goodnight to Dad. Then I’m okay.”

“Okay,” Buck says. “A-and Chris… I know I’m not… But I’m super proud of you. You know that, right?”

Christopher’s mouth scrunches to the side. Just like Eddie’s sometimes does. 

“Thanks,” he replies, voice thick with emotion.

After Chris says goodnight to Eddie and goes to sleep, Buck finds himself sitting on the edge of Eddie’s bed. His eyes are sort of drifting open and shut. 

“Cool if I crash on the couch?” Buck asks. 

“No,” Eddie says. It sounds a little bit like a whine. 

“Oh,” Buck frowns. “I mean, yeah. Okay. I-I can head home, b-but we left the Jeep at my place, so-”

“Stay here,” Eddie all but orders. 

“Uh, here? In bed?”

“Yeah,” Eddie murmurs. “It’s better.”

Buck smiles. “Okay. Yeah, you’re right.”

Buck fishes his pajama pants from his bag and quickly changes into them. He climbs into bed beside Eddie, careful not to move the mattress too much and hurt his knee. He keeps a wide berth for that same reason. He doesn’t want to kick him in the night. 

Eddie yawns a little then grimaces at Buck.

“Do I smell or something?” He asks. 

“No!” Buck laughs. “What?”

“You’re about to fall off the bed, Buck. It’s okay. You can tell me if I smell.”

“I don’t want to bump your leg, dummy,” Buck rolls his eyes. 

“Well, then lie still. But closer,” Eddie commands. 

Buck sighs, but shifts closer to Eddie. “If I hurt your leg in the night, it’s your fault.”

“‘Kay,” Eddie agrees.

“Goodnight, Eddie,” Buck mumbles, reaching to turn off the lamp.

“Not yet,” Eddie says as the room goes dark.

“Not yet?”

“No,” Eddie says. “I need to thank you.”

“No, you really don’t.”

“You saved me, Buck.”

Buck chuckles. “Uh, I helped carry you up a hill.”

“No. Not that part.”

Oh. Oh he means the rest of it.

Buck swallows tightly. “Come on, Eddie. You know I’d do anything for you two.”

“I do. I know that. That’s… That’s why I have to thank you. It’s important.”

“Well, you’re, uh, you’re welcome. Anytime.”

“Can I ask you something?” Eddie keeps going.

“Man, how are you not asleep? You couldn’t keep your eyes open like five minutes ago.”

“What did you see?” 

Buck inhales sharply. “For Christopher?”

“No,” Eddie says. “For Tommy. About me.”

Buck makes a small, uncomfortable sound. “Oh, Eddie…”

“Please,” Eddie says. 

“It’s uncomfortable,” Buck warns. “And you’re on drugs.”

“I’m feeling clear headed,” Eddie says. “Really.”

“I don’t know…”

“Please,” Eddie presses again. “I need to… I need to know if it’s what I think.”

Oh. Okay, then. This is what they’re doing. 

“Uh, wh-what do you think?” Buck asks.

“You have to tell me if I tell you.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

“Okay, go then!” Buck pleads, because he needs this to end. 

“Trivia night?” Eddie asks. 

“Yeah,” Buck confirms. 

Eddie exhales shakily.

Buck gets nervous. More nervous. 

“We don’t have to talk about-”

“It’s okay,” Eddie cuts him off. “Uh, I don’t remember it all. Or clearly.”

“Yeah, I, uh… I gathered as much,” Buck mumbles. “It’s fine.”

“I don’t know why I told him, but I told Tommy I wanted to kiss you, I think?” Eddie asks. 

“Yeah,” Buck whispers. “He… You told him because he was trying to get you to kiss him. While you were plastered.”

[mimez-meme]

What are your headcanons on post cannon Hizashi? Like do you think that he and Aizawa get together or they just drift apart? Do you think he or Aizawa get therapy?

Well first things first I think him and aizawa have gotten closer due to them finally grieving together in the final chapter which they may of never done before and they seem more open to the subject now as aizawa has cut his hair to symbolise that he’s moving on and I THINK hizashi has gotten rid of his moustache to represent the same thing. However I think it’s now aizawa’s turn to be there for hizashi the same way he was there for aizawa as he’s now finally in the right mindset to do so. I think they both tried therapy together but it didn’t necessarily work so now they’re being more open to eachother. But hizashi is still very closed up with his emotions and doesn’t want to discuss anything to do with ‘outburst’ he had in chapter 420?

He tries to be happy around others like how he was before but it’s now more noticeably fake as he’s grown more tired. He feels more comfortable around aizawa and being his true self now as he’s now had an ‘outburst’ infront of him. But he does try and be happy around him but..he can’t keep it up for long.

Hizashi now curries more guilt .. dare I say more guilt then aizawa. As his last words to oboro were death threats and he made him cry. He believes oboro hates him and so he goes to his grave whenever he can to beg for forgiveness, say he’s sorry, say he doesn’t hate him. He wishes his stupid emotions didn’t get the best of him but he tries to think positively by thinking “if Oboro was alive and I told him everything.. he would understand.”

He often hears voices but he tries his hardest to ignore them.

He does feel more.. free after letting out some of his anger, sadness and other emotions but there’s still so much in him that he dares to ever let go as he’s afraid of what else he may do.

He blames himself for his death as he couldn’t reach him when he had the opportunity

He and aizawa have talks now. Try and br more open. Act more like friends. Aizawa has stopped trying to push hizashi away as he now realises how much hizashi needs him. They live close together. They do random check ups on eachother. They go to Oboros grave together when they can. Ect ect.

Sorry if I answered your question wrong in any way.😓

[blackjackkent]

All right, wrapping up Lucanis's questline with a chat in what appears to be the Lighthouse's dining hall area. Bellara and Neve are discussing the age-old spirits vs demons topic while Lucanis stares moodily into the fire.

"They're the same thing," Bellara says earnestly. "...Mostly. Kind of."

"Except one will manipulate you," Neve says, rather more grimly. "Or kill you. Or both."

"But how do you get *rid* of them?" asks Lucanis, who is clearly not interested in the nuance of this discussion.

Bellara winces. "Um..."

"What's everyone talking about?" Helena drifts in from the courtyard with a questioning expression. She can guess well enough what's happening, of course - it must be the question on everyone's minds.

"Spite," Lucanis mutters.

"The demon in Lucanis," Neve clarifies. She rubs at her jaw thoughtfully, squinting at Lucanis's back silhouetted against the flames. "When a person gets possessed... the demon usually takes control," she goes on, cocking her head to one sie.

"And they turn into a monster," Bellara agrees, picking up the thread. "The spirit just... molds them. However they want."

Neve frowns. "I've heard of abominations being cured by killing the demon in the Fade. That's not a sure bet, though."

Especially not now, Helena thinks ruefully. All the old rules for magic seem to be falling by the wayside, to the extent that she even knew them in the first place.

Bellara shifts uncomfortably. "Well... there's one way. But it's... well... we'd have to, um..." She trails off.

"You'd have to kill me," Lucanis says flatly.

"Well." Helena grins without much humor. "That's awkward."

(Unbeknownst to her, the shadow moves at her back. "Oh, I like her..." Spite purrs. "She's fun..." It slithers to Lucanis's side, hisses eagerly, hungrily. "I want to talk to her."

Bellara frowns worriedly. "Before we do that, well... let's think this through some more. There has to be a solution."

"I have people in Minrathous I could ask," Neve says doubtfully. "But I wouldn't get my hopes up."

They're going to Minrathous soon anyway. It's a possibility at least. "All right, so... what next--" Helena starts to ask.

(The shadow hisses again, eager. "Let me talk to them!" it whines. "I want. To talk. TO ROOK!" The connection between them pulls taut, lashes out like a whip.)

Lucanis cries out abruptly, his head snapping sharply to the side, and a cascade of blood pours from his nose. He claps a hand over his face, and Helena can see the peek of red between his fingers.

"Lucanis!" Bellara shouts, alarmed.

"No. It's fine. I'm fine," Lucanis says hastily. He puts a hand out to calm them, but there is blood on his fingertips.

Helena stares at him. Was that the demon? Attacking him? Why? "What did he do that for?" she asks, bewildered.

Lucanis shrugs. "Throwing a tantrum when he doesn't get his way," he mutters.

Neve frowns. "But he could just take you over. Make you do what he wants..."

"It's... you know... not great," Bellara says uncertainly. "But... kind of good news? In a way?"

Frankly Helena is struggling to see what's good about it. Just further evidence that none of the old rules still apply and they're flying completely blind. "You're bleeding," she points out, a little dryly. "Maybe that's not fine."

Lucanis doesn't react to whatever humor Helena is trying to muster. He just shakes his head. "Just... give me a minute," he mutters. "He'll get bored once everyone leaves."

There's a long, strained silence. Helena watches their new comrade thoughtfully, then gives a slow nod.

So far... Lucanis seems decent, devil or no. Hell, working in the Dragons she's known plenty of people with inner demons; his just happens to be more literal than most.

Really hope it wasn't a mistake bringing you on board, she thinks wryly. But... well, we're not really in a spot to be choosy, anyway. Not like everyone hears they'll have to fight some gods and says yes.

"I know things have been complicated," she says carefully. "But I'm glad you're here, Lucanis."

"Contract aside, I owe you a debt," Lucanis says flatly. He turns to stare at the fire again, his eyebrows knitting together.

It's not really the response she was looking for to her friendly overture. Overall - decent he might be, but he also seems more than a littler humorless. Helena frowns. "Lucanis--"

He hunches his shoulders as if away from a physical blow. "Please..." he mutters.

Silence again. Then Neve stands up and turns to walk out of the room. Bellara follows her, and then Helena turns and trails behind, glancing over her shoulder at their strange new friend before the door shuts between them.

[rubifer]

one bright morning, changes all things

Summary: Raphael sees red, then she sees nothing at all. And then, she sees white.

Characters: Raphael & Gabriel. Michael and Lucifer show up but are passed tf out. Bless.

Written for @spnarchangelweek, with the prompts Family/Sleepover! This is part of a larger fic, but I think this scene fits well on it own :) enjoy!

Raphael sees red – crimson gore splashing across her vision, Castiel’s (if that was still her brother’s) impassive stare ordering her destruction with a finger-snap, the terror that seeps into her vessel’s mind despite the barriers she desperately pulls up. There is no time to breathe, no time to scream or gasp, no pain to feel.

Then, Raphael sees black – comfort, numbness, rest after millennia of waiting for the End, after years of toil and despair, after months of solitude – the only archangel left, gone to join their kin. She is not alive, not dead; nothing. Sleep, echoed and all-encompassing.

And then, Raphael sees white. Or rather, light grey, speckled with dust and stained with dirt. Cold fills her insides, seeping through her toes and nostrils. She feels something hard under her skin, something like concrete, and she frowns, because she shouldn’t be sensing the pavement and the whiteness and the cold. She should be removed from her vessel’s nerves, but when she tries to retreat she finds a wall, fleshy tethers around her limbs and lungs.

A small, barely perceptible groan escapes her throat, and the rise of her chest informs her this body has taken a staggered breath in. Something shifts hurriedly beside her – fabric, perhaps.

“…-phael? Raphael!”

That voice is not quite familiar, high-pitched and wavery, but she gets the distinct impression that she knows who it belongs to. It brings back memories she has long since shelved in her memories, buried under millennia of working, leading, toiling away for the End she so desperately wanted. Honey. Meteor showers. Bells. Laughter, light and mischievous.

“Raphael, is that you? Come on, wake up. Come on, you big stupid - !”

Fear sits wrong on this voice – breaking at all the wrong places. She thinks it might have been created for song, or jokes. But then again, she thinks, none of them had ever been made for fear.

Clumsy hands flutter above her; they hesitantly touch her face, then retreat, before landing on her right shoulder. They’re slightly warmer than the ground, and she lets out another groan.

“Yeah, come on, wake up.”

Eyelids drift ajar, heavy. Flecks of snow fall from her lashes, disturbed by the movement. The world meets her sideways, encased by walls of white and grey.

She shifts her head, and suddenly her vision is flooded with chestnut hair that gleams almost golden in the blind light. Hazel eyes flit nervously above her face, checking her over like a bothersome butterfly.

“Thank – Raphael – that’s you, right? You’re – I think I can tell – yeah. You’re awake.”

She blinks furiously, frowns, tries to get her vessel’s head to stop spinning. This person is too close for comfort, and when she finally gets a grip on her arms she manages to lift herself from her elbows. The stranger doesn’t retreat – his eyes follow her like magnets. But he doesn’t fight her when she pulls herself back, placing necessary distance between the two of them. His hand leaves her shoulder, and the treacherous body she can’t seem to get rid of laments the small heat it loses.

“Hi,” he says.

Raphael goes still. She’s in a city – dull and too much at the same time, with the stomach-churning smell of exhaust fumes and human waste. Humans are loud; engines and chatter seem to surround their everyday, and fill the few empty spaces between the buildings. Dead trees sprout up from carefully-constructed holes in the concrete; some sort of park, perhaps. Snow flits in the biting wind in cluttered, dirty flakes. The sky hangs low, mingling with the ground in a nebulous, choking fog. Something – heart, she registers a second late – clenches within her. Wrong, it chants on repeat. Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong.

“Raphael,” comes the voice again. The one that makes her breath shallow.

Her eyes snap back to him.

“It is you, right? Man, it sure would be awkward if you turned out to be – I don’t know, some human named Adele. If you’re a human named Adele, just – forget you ever –”

Raphael grits her teeth, and her voice descends two tones lower in the pitch she reserved for her battalions. “Who are you? How do you know my name?”

The figure blinks, before a pained expression glides over his features – his eyebrows knit together, and his lower lip quivers ever so slightly. Then he smiles, a small, wistful, hopeless thing.

“It’s Gabriel, brother. It’s me.”

The wind blows between them, lifting her loose hair up across her own face. A crow rattles its vocal cords.

Raphael feels fury rise inside her, heating up her cheeks with foreign blood.

“I don’t know what you’re playing at,” she snarls, and the stranger’s eyes go wide, “but you will not use that name with me. Now identify yourself before you regret it.”

She reaches for her wings, willing them to extend, for a glimpse of their terrifying beauty to be revealed to this interloper, to cow him into listening to the might of Heaven –

And feels nothing.

“What’s wrong, Raphie?” the stranger continues with that smile that manages to be sad, and this cannot be him, it just cannot – “I know I’ve had quite the makeover, but I never thought you’d forget about little old –”

“That’s impossible,” Raphael breathes, feeling for her wings again, only to be met with human deltoids, collarbones, shoulder blades, nerve endings.

The man laughs nervously. “Impossible’s my middle name, hermana.”

“Stop that!” she barks, and scrambles further from him. Tries with a flick of a wrist to summon her blade. Why isn’t her essence bowing to her will? Why is she on Earth – why is she even alive?

She was finally supposed to rest.

The stranger with the singing voice notices something in the movement of her shoulders, and his lips thin. “You too, huh? Gotta say, there’s other ways to make a guy go sober than going whole ass cold turkey on angel grace.”

Pebbles rake against her palms, scraping up skin and smearing dirt under her fingernails. Angel grace?

She shakes her head. “You cannot be Gabriel.”

The man makes a face at that, his face scrunching up towards his nose in a rather childish gesture. “Well, no fair. What else am I supposed to be? All the other dudes are a no-go now.”

“He’s dead.” She knows there is no waver in her voice – she has trained it for millennia not to show anything but resolve. Even her mind, dull and retreated, barely registers the pain of the statement. “He left, and then I felt him die.”

Despite the archangel’s prolonged absence (so much so that many lower angels had forgotten him entirely), his death had left a gaping wound in Heaven. One that neither Michael nor Raphael had acknowledged; but the moment it had happened, they’d watched each other and known they were feeling the same pain. It had been done; there was no turning back.

“You are not Gabriel,” she concludes in a low voice. “Now go, before I kill you myself.”

“Oh, screw this,” the man says suddenly, and finally, a flash of anger crosses his features. “You’re all as stubborn as when I last saw you.”

He stands up, brushing dirt off his jeans. “Sorry to rain on your parade, Raphie, but yeah – it’s me. In the flesh, or whatever meatsuit we have at the moment. And I’m real sorry we can’t do the reveal twist justice, but we definitely have a bigger problem right now.”

And he gestures behind him.

Raphael’s eyes follow his movements.

And widen.

Lying on the park ground, a few yards away from a steel swing set, limbs sprawled and unresponsive, are Michael and Lucifer.

And Raphael… shuts down.

It is as though the world collapses, as though she cannot find a grip on its crumbling reality. Her eyes unfocus without her consent, and through the blur she can still make out her first brother’s still form.

“Michael,” she chokes.

Her body refuses to move.

“Yep,” says the man – says…

“Gabriel,” she whispers, and trails her gaze back to that familiar not-stranger, this voice shaped like spring and wild clover.

“One and only,” he says, quietly, and gives her a wry, two-fingered salute. “Good to see ya, sis.”

“Gabriel,” she repeats, like a strange taste.

“Hi,” Gabriel says again, and swallows, then licks his lips.

She watches him then – wants to ask him all the questions he expects, and others he might not, and the fury that had dissipated in her gut starts to appear again. For a second, she knows she is about to let the storm out on him in torrents of hurt and incomprehension. For another second, she wants to be close to him, to grieve and wrap her wings around her long-lost brother.

She closes her eyes, tightly. Breathes out; puffs of steam coil out of her. And then the feelings get mute again, shrouded in numbness, neatly packed away and blocked from her mind.

She opens her eyes again. Time to get this sorted.

“Where are we?”

Gabriel frowns, stretching and wriggling his neck like he’s dislodging an uncomfortable insect. “Springfield, Ohio.” He wrinkles his nose. “Someone knows how to tell a joke.”

She does not know what he means, and is not about to ask. Slowly, her vision strays back to the two slumped bodies behind Gabriel.

“I didn’t try waking them up,” says the latter. “Didn’t want to risk – well. I for one had enough apocalypses to fill my belly for a few thousand years.”

His eyes flash with something – anger, perhaps. She doesn’t understand many of the emotions that travel through Gabriel’s expressive features, like wild birds in the mist; indistinguishable and strange. It makes her ache, dully.

“I didn’t bring them back,” she breathes. It was a failure, another in the list she bears on her back like another pair of wings. She lost them to Castiel and his short-sightedness, to his pride and ignorance.

She straightens.

“We need to get back to Heaven,” she announces, and takes Gabriel’s outstretched hand to get back on her feet.

She needs to see if there are any survivors. If Castiel has destroyed them all. If the remains of her family can be salvageable.

“Uh, yeah, no can do,” Gabriel says. He rubs his hands together and blows on them to bring warmth to his body. Like a human would. It’s disturbing to watch on her brother – Raphael looks away, some unknown grief gnawing at her unresponsive spirit. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’re a little short on juice at the moment.”

He clicks his fingers, once, twice, then another to make sure, and his jaw twitches in annoyance. Finally, an emotion she can understand on him.

She checks on her own grace – there doesn’t seem to be any wound, but it seems muted, static, flat. One-dimensional, like the paintings humans used to try to emulate their Father’s creation. Her fists clench; whoever is responsible for this, she will make sure will never see daylight again.

Is this Castiel’s doing? Even with the powers she had sensed disgustingly roiling inside his vessel, she struggles to believe he would have enough to strip four archangels of their power, let alone free two of them from their Father’s sturdiest prison, and one of them from Death’s jealous hold.

Slowly, she steps toward the swing set.

Michael is in the vessel he wore the day he fell, the day everything went so very wrong – the youngest Winchester. Sandy hair flops onto his still forehead, and a worry line creases between his brows. When he had first entered the body, she didn’t think it suited him – the face was too young, unbecoming, frail. But in her hurry to get the End over with, she had simply nodded at him, and he had flown down to meet their fallen brother.

Lucifer…

Lucifer is not wearing Samuel Winchester. Raphael has never seen the human – dark blonde, middle-aged with premature wrinkles around his eyes. Angry, crimson welts cover his skin, painful and raw, ravaging his body like a disease.

She has kept watch over his movements from Heaven, of course. She was in charge of surveying his position, the demons’ numbers and advances, in an unspoken agreement that Michael should not risk seeing his brother before the End. But she has never gotten close. There was nothing left to say, nothing but the same arguments and unanswered questions, looping between them all like threads in a tapestry.

She knows his temporary vessel had been damaged, as all imperfect vessels are. Donnie had served well, but when the time to leave had come, she had done so with no second glances.

Michael’s body is sprawled out, a mess of limbs shooting in every direction like sunbeams. Lucifer is small, in comparison – curled up and folded, as if he’d been bracing for a landing.

It only occurs to her then: that they are together.

Absently, her hand goes to feel Michael’s forehead. It is hot to the touch, but not burning. She softly brushes a lock of hair back, and buries her fear when Michael breathes a sigh.

She does not know what to do.

Gabriel has moved towards Lucifer, his index and middle finger pressed against the jugular. His movements are careful, his gaze stormy, like he’s touching a wild animal. One that has bitten him already.

He used to run towards the Morningstar and tackle him with spread wings, often tangling up with each other in a mess of feathers and intermingled grace.

Raphael buries that, too. She narrows her eyes. “Why are you doing that?”

Gabriel tilts his head like a confused dog. “Doing what?”

“Checking for a pulse.” As if the Morningstar needed something as base as a heartbeat. As if the damage to their grace wasn’t far more important than anything their vessels are currently enduring.

“Because, my sceptical brother, it looks like we have one now.”

Raphael’s eyes don’t go wide. But she immediately brings her hand to her own neck – and there it is, a rapid thumping deep inside her, carrying blood through branching veins.

It isn’t like a vessel’s heart stops working, once an angel takes its place inside it. But the mechanisms are not instinctual – the grace maintains the body as much as the body grounds the grace. There isn’t a need for heartbeats, for lung work, for digestion and immune systems and nail clippings. It is all taken care of, lying in the hands of the most powerful beings in creation.

Raphael is not in control of the body. Her heart is beating by itself, her lungs expanding and shrinking through no will of her own.

In Heaven she is a Healer – a holy balm, a repairer, a solution for damaged grace. On Earth she is a destroyer, storm-bringer, leaving her vessels broken and insane.

She does not know how to fix this.

“Gabriel,” she breathes, and her voice comes out disgustingly short, choked and small.

Kneeling at Lucifer’s side like a surrealist Pieta, her brother’s lips are thinned, eyes darting from Raphael to Michael’s unmoving form, from the empty park to Lucifer’s scarred body. His lips are slightly blue.

Something must have shown in Raphael’s expression, because Gabriel straightens. Breathes in, that strange, voluntary action humans make to calm down.

“Okay,” he says. “Okay. Okay.”

She watches him stand up, watches him bite his lip and tap his shoes and breathe on his fingers once more.

“First things first, we need to get the sleepyheads somewhere safe. And, uh, warm, for that matter. I’m not so keen on turning into a popsicle.”

His teeth chatter as he speaks.

“Where?” Raphael asks, voice calm and collected and in control. “You said yourself, there’s no way to contact Heaven. If we knew who did this, we could…”

Gabriel hesitates, licking his lips. He pierces Raphael with his stare, up and down, gauging her like a soldier.

“Alright, screw it,” he says at last, throwing his arms up in the air. Up, to where humans think Heaven lies. “I have a place.”

“A… place.”

“An apartment. Not far from here. Used it while I was busy doing… While I was busy. We can stay there and figure it out when we’re not freezing our asses.”

Raphael cannot stop staring. “You have an… apartment.”

Who is this new entity in the shape of her brother? Were a few millennia enough to transform him so completely, from a proud leader of the Heavenly choir to this city-dwelling, heartbeat-checking being?

Gabriel sighs. The slowly-gathering snowflakes get caught about his hair, white freckles on a golden canvas. “Just – trust me, ‘kay? I’ll get us somewhere safe.”

That voice she recognises: the pleading tones of a younger brother, desperate to be heard.

A beat. Then, slowly, she nods.

Gabriel smiles at her – one of the only genuine, angelic things she can find in him. “Thank you,” he says.

The clouds part for a moment, and between the snowflakes Raphael can see rays of light fall from the Heavens to the sprawling city below.

[h1biscusgal]

Hey, love your blog—seriously, appreciate the insight and the way you keep it real.So here’s a weird one I’m hoping you (or someone out there) might relate to

When I’m easing into that hypnagogic or void sttae,

if I try to stay aware, I keep running into this bizarre swallowing issue.Like, I’m just lying there, drifting toward the void... and then suddenly, my body’s like: “Wait! Should we be swallowing? Are we choking? Alert the system!” Total immersion ruined.

If I let go completely, I fall asleep just fine. But the moment I try to maintain awareness, my throat goes rogue.No idea what to do with this, but figured I’d throw it out there in case others are silently battling the same ridiculous issie

Thanks again for everything you share—it really does help

OH GOOD THING.

I actually used to have this thing too, but honestly for me I kept ignoring it, and sometimes I used to imagine drinking water so my throat opens up 💀💀💀💀💀 Ik I'm weird ✋🏻

BTW THANK U ML MWAH, but recently I don't have these anymore because I usually go past it, BUT IF ANYONE KNOWS HERE PLEASE LET US KNOW IN THE COMMENTS HOW TO GET RID OF IT