#THEY'RE BACK WOOOO!!!

[wrylu]

have some old gays for pride month !! 🤲

[wexhappyxfew]

CARRIE X DOUGIE PIECE TONGIHT?!?!?!?!?!

[ztmachine]

I see a mutual come back to Tumblr after being gone a while and my brain be SO happy!

[tidepoolalgae]

knocked the current car expenses down to under $300 (probably will get bumped up to a little over that with taxes) by calling around to get quotes and researching when I actually need to do things so that's pretty fucking great !!!

[zweiginator]

college!patrick corrupting innocent!reader feat. art caught my attention QUICK

om nom patrick wanting to fuck her but he knows he’ll have no restraint even though he should go easy on you so he invites artie again🤗🤗

OH YEAH BABY WOOOO

PATRICK TELLING ART TO FUCK YOU BECAUSE HE CANT BE GENTLE....

and patrick and you have tried to have sex one time before but the second he pushed inside you were clawing at his back because it hurt and fuck you were so tight. patrick cursed and pulled out. said he wants your first time to be good and slow--which isn't something he can do.

"your little pussy's so tight. don't think i can control myself with you hugging me so good."

and he's kissing your forehead but you're upset because you really like patrick. he has a reputation around campus but you trust him and he knows your body and you dont want to go searching around for someone to sleep with, with a big 'im a virgin' sign stamped to your forehead.

patrick says it won't be necessary. says he has a friend who's perfect for it. for you. and you're nervous because you've never been so attracted to anyone like you are to patrick. you don't think anyone can compare.

but then art is knocking on your door and patrick lets him in. you can't see him yet; patrick is obstructing your view with his broad shoulders and you're sat on your bed. patrick moves. and there's the friend. art, patrick said his name is. he has a backwards hat on and blond curls poking out from the brim. pretty eyes and a shy, lopsided smile. his voice carries a little more trepidation when he introduces himself to you, but he still has confidence. you get a lot of it when you're near patrick.

and art is more sexually experienced than he lets on to patrick, even though they're best friends. he doesn't like to kiss and tell. he doesn't love the concept of one-night stands--even though he's had a few.

art sits next to you on your bed. his mouth is dry and he's at a loss for words. patrick told him you were pretty. even showed him a picture of you. but god, you're even better in person. just sitting with your palms on the tops of your thighs, a blush upon your cheeks. staring at him, expectantly. patrick sits across the room, his legs spread proudly. he lights a cigarette, even though you tell him not to; the RA will smell it.

he does it anyway.

patrick tells art to go slowly. he wants his girl to feel good. you feel tingles in your tummy, a coil of pleasure building at him calling you that. art likes to share. he strokes your hair. it's gentle and sweet and you hum tilting your head closer to his. you close your eyes for just a second and when they reopen, art's lips are hovering by your own until he kisses you and snakes his hand down your back to hold you to him. it feels more slow with art, but in a good way. like he likes the tension, likes to wait; it makes it better in the end. to snap that rubber band. he opens his mouth to push his tongue into yours. it's wet and almost lazy, but art's hands push into your pajama shorts, kneading the fat of your ass in his hands. you moan, pulling his hat off so you can feel his hair in your hands, grasp on it, pull him into you.

it's then that art gets hungrier, and patrick moves nearer.

"easy now." patrick says. you feel art smile against your lips.

"right." art replies. "sorry, coach."

art lays you down, nice and slow. pulls your panties down with his teeth and patrick inhales quickly, intrigued.

your instinct is to keep your legs close together, but art pulls them apart. asks to see you.

"she's pretty isn't she." patrick doesn't phrase it like a question.

and art says a busy, mmhmm, because his lips are on your thighs and his fingers are rolling your clit. he moves to pull himself out of his shorts. you and patrick both watch intently. how his abs contract, how his shorts pool at his ankles and his cock is erect against his stomach.

you're soaked and you want to make them both proud, but mostly patrick. you want to prove that you can take it, that you're ready for him. you also want to make him jealous.

art pushes into you slowly. all three of you hold your breath until his pelvis is flush against you. you rake your fingernails down art's chest, over his pert nipples, down to where he is connected to you. he's idle and you can see his heart beating, the blood pumping through the visible veins in his arms.

patrick waits for a next move, and you pull art in by the hair at the nape of his neck. you whisper to him; it's tinged with a moan.

"i want you," you gasp. "to fuck me hard."

art whines against your neck. he peers at you, and then at patrick, who is fine with sharing--but only if he holds the reigns.

so art pulls your legs up over his shoulders, tilting your pelvis up a tad. he starts at a respectable pace; you're already finding it hard to be quiet. just gasping for air because you've never been fucked and you've never been so full or desired. and art speeds up his thrusts. it feels like he's punctuating each one when he's all the way in. pushing that extra bit to make your body jolt. to hit that spot inside you that makes you whine his name. patrick's jaw ticks because he thought he was fine with sharing. and he thought he told art to fuck you slowly--but here he is pounding into you with your jaw squished in his hand as you beg and plead and that should be him. this wasn't the deal. patrick pulls himself out of his jeans.

[drawlody]

My list of Adam ships♡ n my opinion bout them (also fics rec :D)

Adam x Luicfer (Adamsapple/Duitarduck) 10/10

Need i say more:)))??!?! started out as a "haha funny slip-up ship" to "hey they got really good angst potential". The friends/lovers to enemies to lovers is STRONG with this one n i am eating up everything i could found on ao3. Smth bout this macho-ass man finally getting to stay back n not take charge for once feel nice, also princess Adam supermacy wooooo. Whoever came up with the ship name i applaud u cause that's like a 3 layers name(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

It's not an Adamsapple fic without Adam having at least 1 mental breakdown n Lucifer have his guilt eating him alive:)))

Very fucked up torture but i swear it worth the pain:D The dove is so dead it start to rot so plz read the tags properly (plz check out the AngeliaDark other works too they got good shit)

This one have a splits so check out both the fics (beware the author have a skrewed sense of what is considered wholesome:))))

I didnt think a smut scene could be this sad

Adam x Lute (Guitarspear/Guardrock) 10/10

Litteraly my first Hazbin ship, assholes in love is an underrated dynamic we desperately need more off:))) That with a dash of evil dude x loyal subordinate (which i havent seen since the Deathglare days) n opposite attract (look they have one main thing in common is that their extreme bloodthirst, other than that she's stricter than ur mom n he's lazier than the Sloth ring itself but that the beauty of it no? He convince her to chill tf out n not to burst a blood vessel, she keep him on track n make sure Sera dont come on their asses)

They're just being silly enabling each other terrible behaviour n i love that for them (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ) Litteral besties i tell ya

Heavy non-con shit involving Val but Lute will revenge our boi i promised u that

Cool idea n they r just made for each other damn

First hazbin fic i read which is a really cool smut:D

Adam x Micheal (we need a ship name people ) (update: it's Songbird/Guitarhero) 10/10

I like how we dont even got a proper comfirmation of Micheal design/personality yet the ship is here already ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ ( im using the Nakariiale's design as a base here love their design)

Hit me with that rebound love x "u look like my ex so im using u as a replacement but ill fall for the real u eventually" x co-workers in heaven. I'm thinking smth along the line of "after Lucifer fucked off with Lilith, Micheal became Adam guardian angel n they just hang out" ya feel me here? (✿◕‿◕✿)

Shout out to Bloog_b for dragging me into this ship:DDD also im on the Adam x the archangels ship as a "gotcha" to Lucifer of sort. Like bitch u stole my wives imma steal your brotherS

Look it's Adamsapple endgame but trust me u will be feed well on this ( u know how good u gotta be for people to ditch the main ship?)

I'm giving yall 4 fics here cause i can only found 4 rn(._. )

this one is uhh non-con so beware

Micheal is indeed Adam guardian angel in this one:D

Adam x Eve (Flowertunes) 8/10

I dont care what yall said they love each other throughout Eden n Earth , might have a falling out in heaven but that doesnt change the fact that they were once IN LOVE. Honestly why cant we just have a couple that have the same bright-eyed innocence like one another.I refuse to believe Eve like willingly cheat on Adam with malicious intent n all, simply she was indeed ''tricked'' or just not fully understand the sistuation, n Adam love her way too much to think that she would do that to him like Lilith. Hell the dude was heartbroken after L left , starting the abandonment issues, so he would have cling to Eve, doing everything so that he aint alone again, even if that mean leaving Eden

Honestly it pisses me off that the Adam/Eve tag on ao3 most of the time is just 1 dialouge between them back when Eve bit the apple n thats it no elaboration on the couple whatsoever >:(((

Lots of switcharoos

sinner eve woooo

look its hard trynna find a fic focusing on them ok?

Adam x St. Peter (Guitargreeter (bet ya didnt see that coming:))) 7/10

Base on this fanfic alone Joe my dude u r on the path of becoming THE Adam crack-ship writer n i am here for this:)))) just so u wait this dude gonna whip out a AdamxNifty , AdamxHusk fic later on ( •̀ ω •́ )✧

From within the fic itself the ship its 2 bros in love with homophobia standing in the way >:( also when did we have a name?!?!?!?

I just like Adam x anyone in heaven alright:D like bro famous n he got that ancient rizz, u telling mr he cant bag a hottie or 2-100+ hmm?

Adam x Alastor (Angelicradio) 8/10

I DONT EVEN KNOW WHAT ABOUT THEM THAT I SHIP I JUST DO φ(゜▽゜*)♪ i blame YOU honestly rn this ship is either Adam found Al after the fight n they make a deal or they're in heaven n they chillin this ship is confusing:D

They're angels on heaven

Adam gone back into eden n do shit differently

This is both Adam/Eve n Adam/Alastor kinda

Adam x Alastor x Lucifer (Angelicradioapple/ Charlie's dads (only me call them that lol)) 9/10

''Hey Charlie u know how u r sad that your mother left? Wellllllll i got you 2 new dads suprise:DDDD''

Look 3 miserable men who hate each other + hell's greatest dad + my love for Dadam = Messy ass old men yaoi :DDDD n it work perfectly with Alastor Asexuality too!!! Like Adam n Lucifer could fuck each other brains out before Al joining in for the cuddles lol

Chaos ensue

Not exactly a love triangle but a love corner but hey we barely got food here :D

I cant believe how hot this shit is lol

Adam x Eve x Lilith x Lucifer (Eden poly/ applecore?) 8/10

They could have been all married to each other(╯°□°）╯︵ ┻━┻ But as much as i go "OooOooo Poly yay'' i just cant vibe with EvexLucifer, like the cheating vibes is wayyyyyyyyy too much i just cant man . I mean with the interpetation that Lucifer came to Eden to hang out with the humans they all know eachother, they're a throuple yes but BUT when Eve came into the picture it was only with Adam n him only so the other 2 is ehhhh. Im fine with EvexLilith cause im seeing it happening later, not hidden from Adam while LuciferxEve got that deception going on .So uhhh in this ship they're more like bestie than lovers to me¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Also AdamxLilith is an underrated pairing like everytime i saw this applecore thing going on these 2 r at most tolerate each other like cmonnnnn we already twist this to hell n back, why cant we make it so their arguement was a petty non-malicious one n they still cares for each other hmm???

They're one happy family

IDK what to tell u bittersweet reunion n loving family is the only typa fic u get with this ship

Not that im complaining i need this wholesomeness

Adam x Mammon (Adammon/Madam/Greedyguitar/ 1st chirstmas.... hasnt had an offical name yet) 10/10

They r litteraly same person different font idk what to tell u. More insults thrown around than Guitarspear but they're pretty similar. Adam is just " sinners suck ass but this dude is the worst in the best way". Also they're both big bois (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و✧ , they love towering over others

I'm sorry but there r barely BARELY

any fics of them :(

The art side is more plentiful tho :D

Adam x Angel Dust (Holydust/guitardust) 5/10

THEY ARE BESTIES YOUR HONOUR n that the exact reason why i cant see them be together as a couple 100%, like the shit-talking bff vibes r wayyyy too strong XD Angel finally got someone who have the same vulgar humour as him n if Adam got married in hell Angel would 100% be his best bitch of honour (≧∀≦)ゞq(≧▽≦q)

They're best friends who have casual no-string attached sex that is ACTUALLY no-string attached:)))

I came to ship them due to those "What if they're co-workers under Val' scenarios ive been seeing on Tumblr

I got like 1 fic on ao3 i mean if u r looking for just platonic friendship between them then rest asure most Adam's redemption fics have that

I got 1 fic on tumblr

Adam x Charlie (Charadam/Guitarprincess) 5/10

U know this ship give me a pretty bad first impression since a good chunk of the fics r either heavy non-con shit or lean wayyyyy to much into the daddy kink, ya know how Charlie got suppose daddy issues n all that jazz?:))) yeah that... that

But after seeing the art side of this ship im chillin with them now, since the art r pretty wholesome, usually having them decked out in punk-rock clothings hanging out. It's a big "Fuck you" to Lucifer n i live for these mf argueing ╰(*°▽°*)╯

So uhhh stay away from the fics if ya want an actual functional couple instead of wtv messed up shit we got there:))) But here's a fic anyway, the only one where it feel bearable n actual trynna go into said messed up relationship i already warn you

We got cracks like Guitarmaid (AdamxNifty), Valadam (AdamxVal) which i dont have enough materials to decied, Classicalrock (AdamxSera) sound interesting but also havent found anything , Guitarhalo (AdamxEmily) is an unexpected find, find i deem them to be more familial than romantic so we'll see if there's a fic good enough to convince me

Edit:i forgot to add Blitzo like Mammon already there why did i forgot

Adam x Blitzo (i dont think anyone even ship this but me:)) 7/10

I cant find a single fic where they has anything more than a 1 nightstand n 1 interaction where they hit it off , i live off imagination alone (;´༎ຶД༎ຶ`) but like fr fr they would match so well, like their bloodlust n general jerkiness would make them the 3rd asshole x asshole ship on this list :DDDD

Tho as much as i wanna see them go further i feel like an on-n-off relationship/friends with benefits fit em more ya know ( *^-^)ρ(*╯^╰) If ya have any fic but the 2 here that have them interact lemme know cause a bitch need food :)

This is a lot of tag(._. )

[sassycheesecake]

MEET AND GREET DAY 6:

#4, Captain and Middle Blocker Shūgo Meian of the MSBY Black Jackals

Meian can't remember the last time he had some peace and quiet

A crazy team to keep under control honestly requires a medal for patience

But lately, his mother is getting on his nerves as well

Telling her son to find a girlfriend, a boyfriend, a partner to finally settle down with

She calls him almost every day and whenever she would bring up his love situation, he automatically rolls his eyes at her annoyed tone

Meian is currently tying his shoes in the locker room, ready for the upcoming match against the Tachibana Red Falcons, when his mother called again

"Son, I have found you a compatible match! They're--"

"Mum, I have a game in a little bit, can we do this later?"

"Just promise me, you will go out with them tomorrow! They are very nice and I am not getting any younger here and neither are your reproduction tools!"

Meian is now at his limit, his mother mentioning his private parts is just getting too much for him

"Okay fine! If I go out with this person tomorrow, will you PLEASE stop bothering me about it?"

"Yes. Have a good game my son!" She hangs up and Meian is relieved, now he can focus on the game

"Miya! Stop using my deodorant! Buy your own!" "Give me my shoes back!" "WOOOO! GAME TIME!" "MEIAN! TELL THAT ASSHOLE TO GIVE ME MY SHOES BACK!"

Aaaaand off we go to the next problem

Luckily enough, the Jackals won by 5-4, so Meian is in a good mood the next day

As he waits for you by Komeda's Coffee around noon, according to the details his mother has texted him early in the morning

Honestly, Meian just wants to go back home and sleep, maybe if he's lucky enough, his blind date has both a terrible personality and terrible looks and he can just leave and go back to bed and finish the third season of Bridgerton

As he waits in front of the café, scrolling through Instagram, he hears the sweetest voice his ears have ever encountered

"Are you Meian?"

As he turns to look at you, his eyes widen at the sight of you

Like wow

The way your body moves, the way eyes your shine, the way your skin glows in the sun

When you are close enough to him, he gets an intoxicating scent from you, like gosh he wishes he could just hug you and inhale your fragrance for days

He internally slaps himself for thinking such intrusive thoughts on your first date

You keep talking, Meian guesses how happy you are to meet him because his heart is doing somersaults and his brain feels like it's constantly restarting

"You okay? You look distracted."

"No, no, I am fine I promise. I just have never seen such a gorgeous person before."

And now it's your turn with the somersaults

You both go inside the café, him holding the door open for you, pulling the chair before you sit down (sigh, a true gentleman)

Honestly, when your mother told you you would be going on a blind date with a professional athlete who plays volleyball, you honestly expected an arrogant ass who only talks about how great he is and how this sport is the greatest in the world

Meian is not what you expected

Sure, he is very good looking: tall, muscular, broad mouth-watering shoulders, a body that looked like it was carved by Myron himself

His personality is sweet, a bit inexperienced sure but he solely focuses on you and gives you compliment after compliment

He tells you about his profession, about his team and invites you to his next game in a week

Meian's teammates of course notice the constant smiling looking at his phone and the small nod of his head into the VIP section

Yet the ravenette doesn't care, already planning on marrying you in the future

[deathbxnny]

Woooo, congrats on 1k followers, sure has been a ride, huh?

Now, with requests back open, it's time time for the sequel to my Arle request!

Okay so, like I said in that ask I sent a while ago, this one takes place in the same "continuity" as the angsty af Arle request you did last req period. This one takes place some time after that story, and is less angsty in this case (but there's definitely still some here).

Here, similarily to the last request, the "Mother" of the House is staying in... let's say Fontaine, tending to one of the injured children (could be some rando kid, or maybe it's one of the Fontaine trio) after a mission. Unlike last time though, it's looking as though the child will pull through, that "Mother" won't have to bury another of her kids!

Bad news tho, the people responsible for the child's injuries are coming around to finish what they started. Arle, who's handling business elsewhere, catches wind of this and makes haste to help her wife.

Little did those who came to finish the child realize what danger they're in. Because you see, fem!reader is a former child of the House of Hearth. Not just that, she's the wife of a Harbinger. Normally she doesn't engage in violence, but these people Hage intentions of ending her child's life, and she simply cannot let that slide.

And so, Arle arrives just in time to bare witness to her s/o going absolutely John Wick (does she kill anyone with a pencil? That's up to you 🤭) on the bandits who dared to cross her not once, but twice.

(Part one) (part three) (Part four)

Ohoho.... I absolutely love this, dear Anon, and I'm hoping you'll love my spin on this as well!! Although I have to admit that I gave it a bit of a mellow end, instead of the "John Wick" type of ending, mainly because I found it more fitting with what I was going for... but anyhow, thank you so much for this request, I was definitely looking forward to it, hehe!!<33

Content: Some gore, Near character death, mentions of near fatal injuries/wounds, blood, mentions of grief/child loss, Reader snapping, violence, assassination attempts, Reader is referred to as "Mother", heavy angst, hurt/comfort, kind of a good ending for once?, stitches

Reader uses she/her pronouns here!!

((Not proofread))

The last one standing had crimson palms. (Arlecchino x Fem!Reader)

"I... I wish to..." "Shh... not another word, child... don't you dare say it." Your hands were stained red once more, pressing down on another gashing, deep wound, sweat running down your forehead as everyone around you attempted to stop the bleeding. You didn't want him to see what had become of him, one hand resting over his teary eyes to stop your heart from shattering any further. You wished she was here, your dearest wife, who had to choose this week of all the others to leave the country for a short business trip.

And today was supposed to be a good day. One filled with the laughter of children and the smell of grilled sausages and steaks coming from the garden. You were trying to have a little festival together to celebrate the start of warmer months. But the atmosphere had now become suffocating with the smell of sharp iron and sweat instead, the gentle warmth now scorching hot, exhausting, and grinding you down to the bone. However, you couldn't let go of him now. You couldn't let him die. You refused to give up on him, especially. You refused to let him become another buried angel.

His hand pressed against yours weakly, his breaths deep, pathetic gasps for air, as he tried telling you something important through broken cries. "Mother... Mother, please, you have to listen to me." He coughed out, blood staining his lips, as his other hand reached out blindly to grasp onto the fabric of your once white sundress. You furrowed your brows against the darkness of the room, light only filtering in through the moon outside and the shaky hands of Lynette trying to keep a lantern steady so her twin could keep patching his younger brother up.

"What is it, Freminet?" You indulged him, trying to keep him awake at all costs. His voice was hoarse, raspy, once silky blonde hair now sticking to his forehead as he gulped dryly to collect his thoughts.

"They are coming for us, mother... and you are next."

Lyney gave you a look, one filled with an undefined emotion he only ever had when it came to your protection. If you didn't know better, you would've been terrified at how similar he was becoming to his father. "Those assassins we encountered during our mission, Mother... they weren't ordinary ones, to say the least." He muttered to you, his mind replaying the moment one of them struck his brother, who was just trying to protect them out of pure instinct. He was brave, despite the shyness he often portrayed.

"How so?" You wiped away the sweat on your forehead, nose wrinkling when another member of the house handed you a medkit before they disappeared into the shadows again. "They... knew us by name. Every single one of us. And then-" You waved over Lynette to stand in your place whilst her twin spoke, so you could unpack the needed supplies for the upcoming "operation" you had to conduct on your son. You've become a near professional over the years. Something else you didn't choose to do nor want to be.

"-They uttered your name. We... believe that they are trying to weaken Father. And you are that weakness they are seeking, Mother.-" "-They've come to finish the job. We... we need to evacuate everyone.. we need to hide her.-" Lynette hushed Freminet quickly, as she pressed some cloth into his mouth. With a glance downwards to his wound, she determined that it would definitely hurt horribly to stitch him up... but he'd live. For the first time in weeks, someone would live. She closed her eyes to hide those tears that threatened to spill in relief.

You stared at the three of them for a moment before you simply proceeded with placing the first few stitches into the boy's wound wordlessly. He writhed in pain, his fingernails digging into the mattress below whilst his screams and cries were muffled by the cloth. Lyney and Lynette were trying to hold him down, their bodies wincing involuntarily at every sharp breath or movement from their brother. Your expression was meanwhile unreadable, hands moving automatically until you cut the string and were done with your little procedure. It's as if your mind completely fazed out, only driven by the need to fix and protect, keep everyone alive no matter what.

"Lyney." The young man hesitantly met your gaze, his body shaking when his brother fell limply into the bed again, his breathing heavy and uneven. "Evacuate everyone into the upper floors and then come back to watch over Freminet." You said, quick to wipe your hands with a nearby towel nearly coldly, but Lyney knew that look in your eyes. You were sick of it and would take it all into your own hands if your wife couldn't. "Mother, you can't just-" "-Lynette, use the backdoor and let this bird free." You tapped the golden cage on the nightstand with your fingers, the little sparrow chirping curiously. It was a messenger bird, one specifically designed to catch your wife's attention and bring her home instantly when things got out of control.

But you weren't using it for it's purpose tonight. No, everything was completely under control here... you just needed her to come back home to stop you once you're done.

"Mother-" A sharp look made him quickly reconsider what he was about to say, a hand pressing against his chest whilst he bowed. "... we're on it." Lyney muttered, signaling Lynette to love with him, which she did after grabbing the bird cage. Their paths split at the stairs, the girl practically descending them two steps at a time, which got the attention of their fellow bretheren immideatly. "Everyone! Get into the attic or your rooms at once! Mother's orders, so get moving! Barricade your doors and don't open them up to anyone! This is an absolute emergency!" Everyone jumped when they heard the usually playful magicians voice bark out orders harshly, automatically getting the job done as everyone filed up the stairs to do as he said.

Lyney pushed through the crowd to continue looking for stray children who may not have heard him. His heart was racing against his ribcage, sweat dripping off his forehead he could only barely wipe off with a handkerchief he accidentally dropped when someone bumped into him. But your orders were clear in his mind and kept him steady. He knew that he and most, if not all, other kids of the house could take care of themselves just fine... but this was something beyond their means. Something usually only Father got to handle.

By the time he finally got back to his brothers room, you had left it behind, nowhere to be found, and yet the injured boy had a simple blanket covering his shivering form now, dressed in clean clothes and resting on perfectly white bedsheets. Lyney waited by the door, his hand gripping the handle tightly, as he listened to his sisters familiar steps running towards him. He let her in, eyes glancing around the dim hallway one more time before he tipped his hat down and shut the wooden entrance again.

The only sound heard for a moment after was the chirping of a bird in the dead of night until deafening silence filtered in once more.

---

The house of Hearth was never still and unmoving, not even in the darkest parts of the day. The late hours were the busiest, filled with agents and children alike walking in and out of it's doors under the cover of shadows to complete their given tasks and missions. The iron, bloody scent left behind by their previous endeavors, their hushed words to eachother as they passed by, the movement of paper being hidden under floorboards, some given to you with proud looks for approval, as you stayed up with them until the first rays of the sun danced in your eyes... it was never calm, never quiet. Yet the intruders didn't question it. They didn't even think twice to enter the house, the open birdcage. They mistook the silence and stillness for safety.

The first assasin stepped in through the picked lock of a backdoor entrance, his cautious eyes trying to catch any looming danger that may cause them trouble. Yet with nothing in sight, he waved over the rest of his three little friends right into your humble home. "Okay, you know the plan... kill as many of those little rats as you can." "And what about the Mother?" One of them asked, his hair clumsily hidden under a makeshift hood, a dirty grin on his lips in anticipation.

"Can I get rid of her? It won't be much of a struggle, I'm sure. She's just a measly housewife anyway." "Heard she's a pretty thing, though." A round of chuckles filled the kitchen before the first shrugged. "Do what you want. We just have to be done by dawn... let's split up in two groups, then. Just in case." The men agreed, one group making their way upwards, whilst the other searched the ground floors.

The darkness was inviting, the silence emitting a false sense of safety that made the intruders let their guards down, unaware of your form slinking after them. You were calm and collected, eyes dull, the dim moonlight not catching in them anymore. A mother's rage was a dangerous, unpredictable one. Filled with the need to make those who hurt her children suffer, she'd advance even through the most perilous paths for the sake of glory, revenge.

Unbeknownst to anyone, you had put two and two together a long time ago. These intruders, who belonged to a foreign enemy faction, were the cause of many of your children's deaths. They were the reason as to why you had to hear them cry out that odd wish so often. They had dared to enter your territory tonight to take away the rest of the family you had worked so hard for to have. You worked so hard to be a good mother. You bled, you cried, you slaughtered your way here. You became a "mother" one could be proud of. And on this fateful night, you'd prove your worth and pride to even Celestia above you with their screams that will reach far and wide. Your hand gripped a silver dagger, one originally gifted to you by your wife, as you blew out a lantern in one of the hallways, plunging everyone into further darkness that was far from warm.

It was ice cold.

---

"Wait outside." Arlecchino gave the Fatui agents a sharp, warning look, her clawed fingers tight around the Scythe as she entered the still, quiet building she called home. Her eyes glanced around carefully, noting immideatly that the danger that lurked in the dark was familiar. The bird on her shoulder chirped, reminding her of why she had come here in the first place. The meeting she had was cut short by it flying through the window, the call for help loud and clear. She had simply walked out then, her priority always having been you and the house, although it still made her wonder why exactly everything seemed so... unusually silent. Did Lyney and the other children deal with the threat already? If so... where were you?

Her keen ears picked up movement in the living room nearby, which made her calmly make her way over to it's entrance. With a raise of a brow, she stopped when she stepped into a puddle of blood. It seems like her suspicions were partially correct... althkugh who it was that took care of the intruders certainly came as a surprise.

"... You came." Your voice made the tension in her shoulders cease, eyes flickering to your form seated infront of the fireplace. The orange light cascaded across the dark room, the four mangled bodies laying at the bottom of your favorite lavish loveseat being a testament to your victory, and yet you remained still as a statue, back turned to her to observe the flames instead.

"You called." Arlecchino replied after taking in the situation, the sound of her heeled shoe echoing off the walls, as she approached you carefully. Her clawed hand grabbed onto your shoulder, head tilting to look at the side of your head. Your eyes were cold, not even the scorching warmth of the fire melting them. You were unreadable, hands bloody, and yet still so tightly gripping onto the dagger like your life depended on it. And despite that, you were still breathtaking to the woman.

"Are... you alright, my dove?" She asked, a genuine tone in her voice that was only ever reserved for you. The tears in your eyes burned when you finally looked up at her with a pained expression. You weren't like her. You couldn't just kill and be as proud as you hoped to be. You raised your hands towards her, bloody palms raised towards the gods the way they often were when you pleaded for help and forgiveness for the death of your children. You didn't need to say anything anymore, as she pressed a hand to your cheek with an acknowledging nod.

She wasn't good at comfort, nor did she ever try to be. A father didn't comfort his children in her eyes. No, a father simply led them to glory, and that's it. But that didn't mean that she was a bad wife, too. She sat down next to you, uncaring of the bloody mess that surrounded you, when she pulled you close to press your foreheads together. It was a way to silently show her support. She was there for you and understood you.

"I was scared... they hurt Freminet, and I couldn't fathom losing the rest-" "-I know. Thank you for your bravery, my dove. I'll take it from here." Her words were curt and short, and most would perhaps chalk it up to indifference. But when she held you close like this, gently rubbed your back and promised to take care of you only she knew how to, you found yourself being lulled back into the familiar comfort you were so used to. You knew that despite everything that happened, however, she could still not promise that this would never happen again. Your hands will always be stained crimson for as long as you were a Mother. There was no going back. There was no leaving the house.

But... you both were stuck in it together forever, weren't you?

Alrightttt... this took a while to finish, mainly due to work and me being sick again. But yeah, thank you again for the request, Anon, and I hope you liked this!!<33

[tonyspank]

“CURIOUS WHO’S BEHIND THE MASK, TARA?”

Summary: Tara finds out who's behind her school's mascot, and finds herself getting closer to them. But Ghostface has other plans for the two.

Warnings: Ghostface, angst, character death.

A/N: no pt.2 sorry & old draft that i shall post because i love u guys

"Woooo!" Mindy yells, clapping and cheering for her brother. It was a rare occasion to see everyone in the Core Four present at a football game.

But this was the championship game, and Chad was the star wide receiver. Sam smiles along with Tara, watching Chad celebrate at the end of the game, securing Blackmore the state title.

The team mascot, a fierce brown cougar, joins in the celebration by doing flips and cartwheels on the sidelines. Tara leans into Mindy's ear. "You ever wonder who's under the mask?"

"Curious who's behind the mask, Tara?" Mindy wiggles her eyebrows before chucking, adding, "Chad knows! Just ask him."

Quinn joins in, "They're hot too! Chad showed me a photo of them." Mindy thins out her lips, nodding in agreement.

Tara raises an eyebrow maybe she will.

-

Chad laughs, now at Tara, Sam, and Quinn's apartment, along with Mindy, Ethan, and Anika. "Why are you so curious about our mascot?" Mindy sets down her drink, cutting Tara off.

"Quinn and I were kind of hyping them up." Tara nods, confirming Mindy's words. "The seasons over with! Why are you still keeping it a secret?" Chad shrugs, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. "It's just more fun this way. Keeps everyone guessing."

Anika tilts her head, intrigued. "But don't you think it's time to reveal the mascot? I mean, the suspense is killing me!" Chad chuckles and takes a sip of his drink. "I don't know, guys..."

Ethan watches Tara and Anika throw their heads back, sighing and letting out a small laugh. "Maybe you should just tell them before jump them and rip off the mascot costume." He jokes, earning a playful punch from Anika.

Chad looks around the group before pulling out his phone. "I guess you're right," Chad says, scrolling through his phone. He stares at his screen a bit before a voice is heard from his phone. "Hello?"

Chad's face lights up. "Everyone wants to see you without the mask. They've been asking about you all day." The group looks at Chad with anticipation, eager to hear who Chad has on the phone.

"Oh...uh, sure." You let out a laugh, placing your phone on your desk, ready to reveal your identity to the curious group. Chad flips the phone off his face, revealing the screen to everyone. Tara and Anika's jaws drop, their eyes widening in surprise.

"Oh my god." Anika mumbles, covering her mouth in disbelief. Tara, on the other hand, lets out a small laugh. "I didn't expect that."

You wave at everyone. "I hope I lived up to your expectations!" you say with a smile. Chad, still grinning, introduces you to the group. "Everyone, this is Y/N. Our school's mascot."

-

"Mind refilling my cup?" you ask, pointing to your empty cup. Tara chuckles. "Can't you just use the force and make it fill itself?" She teases, mocking your Anakin Skywalker costume. You playfully roll your eyes, knowing that Tara always has a quick comeback.

"You will refill my cup." You say, waving two fingers in a playful Jedi mind trick gesture. Tara laughs and obliges, taking your cup before making her way to the keg. A brown-haired boy places his own cup upside down on the pump.

"You're kidding me, right?" Tara asks the boy, raising an eyebrow. He grins, "Nah, last one's kicked. We got hard stuff in the kitchen though." The boy extends his hand, "Frankie."

Tara smiles, shaking his hand. "Tara. Lead the way." Frankie leads Tara towards the kitchen, and you watch with a slight frown. "Looks like you have a sith to deal with." Mindy says, nodding towards Frankie and Tara.

You light up your prop lightsaber, and Anika adds, "May the force be with you." You chuckle and reply, "Thanks, I might need it."

You walk to Tara and Frankie, ignoring the boy as you smile at Tara. "Is that mine?" You ask, pointing at the red solo cup. Tara nods. "It's tequila, so proceed with caution."

You raise an eyebrow and take a cautious sip. The strong taste burns your throat, but you manage to hide your discomfort. As you hand the cup back to Tara, you notice Frankie smirking at your reaction. "Not a fan of tequila?" Frankie asks teasingly. You playfully roll your eyes and reply, "Let's just say we have a complicated relationship."

Frankie chuckles and turns to Tara. "Hey, I have a bottle of Fireball in my room." You narrow your eyes at Frankie's suggestion, could he be any more obvious?

Tara shakes her head. "I'm good. Thank you, though." You smile, silently grateful for Tara's refusal. It had only been a couple of months, but you found yourself grown to Tara completely.

"Do you wanna go somewhere more silent?" she asks you, turning her back to Frankie. You nod eagerly, relieved to escape Frankie's presence.

-

"Ghostface chasing us...Sam being Billy Loomis's daughter...is just mind-blowing." You say to Tara, leaning your back against the snack bar. Tara looks down at her shoes, a pensive expression crossing her face. "Yeah, it's definitely a lot to process," she replies softly.

You lift yourself off the snack bar and take a deep breath. "But regardless. I'm happy that I'm with you. You've truly made a mark on my life, Tara. I don't think I've felt so strongly for someone, you know? I'm willing to do some crazy shit for you, if it means keeping you in my life."

Tara's eyes meet yours, her eyes darting around your face. She takes a moment to collect her thoughts before speaking. "I feel the same way... It's scary sometimes, but in the best possible way. I can't imagine my life without you either."

You smile, leaning down and capturing Tara's lips with yours in a passionate kiss. You slightly pull away, bringing your forehead to rest against hers. "I never thought I would find someone who makes me feel this way. It's like you've awakened a part of me that I didn't even know existed."

Just as Tara leans in again, she feels a sharp pain in her back.

"Tara!" You shout, holding on to her before she falls to the ground. Ghostface turns towards you, attempting to slash at you with his knife. Adrenaline surges through your veins as you quickly dodge his attacks and push him into a movie poster.

You manage to knock Ghostface off balance, causing him to stumble and drop his knife. Taking advantage of the moment, you grab Tara's hand and pull her towards the exit, determined to get both of you to safety.

Just on time, Sam and Chad open the door, and all of you gasp in surprise. "C'mon!" Sam shouts urgently, gesturing for you and Tara to hurry. Without hesitation, you sprint towards the open door, looking for an exit. But it's not long before you're back where you started—the four of you fighting off Ghostface.

You all manage to knock Ghostface to the ground, and you grab a gumball machine, urging everyone to keep moving. You lift the machine above your head, ready to smash it onto Ghostface, but before you can make your move, another masked killer stabs you in the side.

You gasp in pain as the sharp blade pierces your flesh, causing you to drop the gumball machine. "No!" Tara shouts, rushing to your side, but gets held back by Chad and Sam. You fall to the ground, two Ghostface's tower over you. The pain intensifies as you struggle to catch your breath, realizing that this might be the end of the line for you.

"Y/N!!" She screams again, watching them stab you repeatedly with a sickening frenzy. Your vision blurs and darkness starts to creep in, but you summon every ounce of strength, mumbling. "Run! Go!"

The Ghostface's turn to the three, wiping off their knives in unison.

-

"Great job. All of you." Detective Bailey says to the three Ghostface's. Sam and Tara's eyes widen when realization hits them. "You?"

"Yeah, of course, me." He chuckles before continuing. "Frankly, I expected more from the two of you after what you did to us."

"Us?" The Ghostface on Bailey's left removes his mask, revealing Ethan. "Mindy was right, it was easy to juke the roommate lottery. All I had to do was room with a conceited, condescending alpha, literally named Chad! Fuck, it felt good to kill him!"

Sam and Tara exchange shocked glances, their minds racing to process the revelation. Ethan's words hang in the air, leaving them speechless as they struggle to comprehend the extent of his twisted motives.

Tara's eyes then fill with rage, thinking back on you and Chad, and they mercilessly killed you both. Ethan grins and holds up his mask. "This one was your grandmother's, Sam. Nancy Loomis? It really runs in your fucking family, doesn't it? Speaking of family, "

Bailey buts in, "Wait for it!"

"My names not Ethan Landry, is it Dad?" Bailey laughs, smiling proudly at his son. "Dad?" Tara questions, even more confused.

"Wait, then who else does that leave?" Sam asks, her mind racing to piece together the puzzle. "I don't know?...Mindy?" The Ghostface on Bailey's right takes off their mask, revealing a familiar face.

"Hey, roomies." Quinn says, smiling. "You didn't see that one coming, did you?"

Tara's eyes widen in shock. "Yeah, cause you died!" Quinn chuckles. "Kind of didn't, though. It was a good way to get off the suspect list. Stab Mindy on the train. That sort of thing."

"I just had to make sure I was the first one on the scene so I could switch her out with a fresh body. You'd be surprised at what a grieving father can get away with." Quinn smiles, "I got Stu Machers mask. He was my favorite."

Everyone turns to the last Ghostface, who had been standing silently beside Ethan. The last Ghostface slowly removes their mask, revealing a face that no one expected. It was you, alive and unharmed.

"Still curious who's behind the mask, Tara?" You ask with a smile.

Tara's eyes widen in disbelief as she struggles to grasp what she is seeing. "But... how? How are you standing here right now?" she stammers, her voice filled with confusion and shock.

"I watched you get stabbed!"

The room falls into a heavy silence as everyone waits for an explanation.

"And Sidney supposedly saw Billy get stabbed," you continue, addressing the lingering doubt in the room. "He used pig blood, but that's out of date. Modern special effects have come a long way since then. It's all about creating the perfect illusion, and that's what I did." You explain, revealing the truth behind the seemingly impossible situation.

"I got Amber's mask." You say, looking at it before making eye contact with Tara. "See, I miss my sister dearly. You know Tara, she would call me and tell me how much she cared about her best friend, and not even two months later, you shoot her dead."

"She was trying to kill me!" Tara shouts. You clench your jaw, your own voice raising. "She loved you!"

Tara's face contorts with anger as she retorts, "She may have loved me, but she was also willing to take my life. I had no choice but to defend myself."

"...How are you, Amber's sister? Why weren't you in Woodsboro?" Sam asks.

You take a step closer to the sisters. "Me and Amber weren't biological siblings, but we were raised together since we were young. As for why I wasn't in Woodsboro, I stayed with my aunt... I never was a Cali person, you know?"

Tara glares at you, her anger still evident in her eyes. "Well, it's not like you would understand. You weren't there when it happened. You didn't see what she did."

"I may not have, but I know how she felt, and I saw what you did. I came here to get revenge for my sister and I will finish the movie she started with Richie, believe me."

[t0rturedangel]

I read all of your fics so far and they're great!! I really like your writing, it's fantastic! :3 Could I request a fic for Lucifer with a reader who is anxious and depressed, like him? - 🐇

╭ . . . 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚙𝚘𝚍 ੭

𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐅𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 ♰ ৎ﹕𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘮𝘦

WOOOO I LOVE LUCIFER SM ITS NOT EVEN FUNNY so I'm so happy I have a request for him, i don't think i did a good job since I'm not sure how to write for stuff like this but still hope you like it!!!! also this is short so i'm sorry

✧⠀⨾ Mainly, since the two of you probably don't want to interact with the world of sinners, just stay in Lucifer's home.

✧⠀⨾ the two of you are probably coming up with new duck ideas, just the two of you- since literally no one else is welcome : the both of you hate interacting with anyone you don't have to, unless it's Charlie and her friends though that's rare

✧⠀⨾ whenever the two of you get like really anxious, or stare out the window in dread at all the sinners the other one will bring a duck over, like a personally made duck to try and help

✧⠀⨾ Lucifer has defiantly made a few ducks that look like you to try and help take your mind of your anxiety and focus on his craftmanship

જ⁀➴ Staring out of one of the many windows Lucifer had in his home, your eyes scanned over all the sinners and imps alike running around and causing havoc. Their behavior was one of the main reasons you and Lucifer never went out, beside the sheer anxiety of interacting with anyone. Sinners were crude, vulgar and had no respect for themselves or the people around them. At the thought of even talking to someone besides Lucifer caused your heart to speed up, your breathing quickening little by little which was your cue to turn from the window yet you found it difficult to do, the next option was to try and think of something different, anything different, like spending time with lucifer 

The isolation from the rest of hell wasn't bad at all, you had Lucifer, Lucifer had you and the two of you had ducks! dozens and dozens of ducks... it's almost concerning really- you and his would always spend your seemingly endless days in Lucifer's workshop for hours, always designing and creating these silly little duck toys, and while Lucifer would always bring himself down at the end of the completed project, saying how the parts that he worked on were terrible while simultaneously praising your side of the work- it was almost pitiful watching the king of hell say such things though you never indulged or agreed to his self-degradation, instead you attempted to bring his spirits back up by complementing his work. Though, your methods would only sometimes work, as at those times Lucifer would sort of- avoid listening to your words.

     Speaking of Lucifer, and the ducks- you noticed that Lucifer walked in the room you were resting in, a huge smile on his face as he held something behind his back. Your curiosity was peaked almost immediately, what did he have behind his back? was it money? food? a duck? the questions were endless and only came to a halt when Lucifer called to you. ˓˓ [name], my dearrr ʾʾ the tone of his voice perfectly matched his pale face, he was defiantly happy about something but what was it? finally, your mind was off of the outside world and now on lucifer and whatever he had behind his back  ˓˓ hm? ʾʾ was your reply- moving so you would be sitting at the edge of the window sill, your tail wrapping around the handle of the window to ensure that you wouldn't fall however you could only stay in that position for a little while as your dear Lucifer beckoned you down to which you happily obliged.

     Landing right by Lucifer, you and him both shared a smile- your one being more of a grateful smile as he did save you from your anxiety fueled thoughts. ˓˓ Hello Luci!.... what is that behind your back. ʾʾ at that question Lucifer smiled even more, chuckling to himself ˓˓ geeze aren't you curious today? ʾʾ he spoke while trying to hide what he had, you were trying to move around him so you could see what he had in his hands ˓˓ Just let me see for hell's sake ʾʾ you were determined to see what it was, and Lucifer- feeling ever so merciful today- grabbed your wrist to crease your movement ˓˓ Okay, okay [nick name] I'll show you ʾʾ finally! he was going to show you

     It was no surprise to you that what he pulled out was indeed a little duck, but what was different was that this duck looked a lot like you- like really a lot like you. ˓˓ You.. made this? ʾʾ examining the little duck, you smiled at how carefully it was made made- the small details that the duck was designed with matched your visage perfectly, you could immediately see that Lucifer put a lot of time and care into this.. that is so sweet.. ˓˓ yes, why? do you not like it ʾʾ the joy in his voice seemed to falter ˓˓ I love it Luci, it's so beautiful ʾʾ looking up from the duck you faced Lucifer's slightly shocked yet pleased smile ˓˓ I'm glad you like it, I know the both of us have been dealing with quite a bit with our anxiety and stuff so... I sort of made this for you try and remind you that hey! you're not alone! The two of us will always have each other right? ʾʾ he rambled, a golden hue on his face- did he find this embarrassing? he really shouldn't, this gift was not only adorable but so incredibly delightful

     ˓˓ of course! Of course we'll have each other- geeze Luci, this is so sweet what the fuck? ʾʾ instinctively you hugged Lucifer tightly, an action he happily returned. You stayed like that for a few minutes before you pulled away ˓˓ now I defiantly need to make something for you ʾʾ ˓˓ you dont have to! ʾʾ  ˓˓ I sure as fuck do! ʾʾ you laughed, quickly speeding away to start working on something for Lucifer while he tried to catch up to you to try and stop you.

[bingwriterxo]

paparazzi

pairing: jenna ortega x reader

summary: in which an accident occurs after your dinner with jenna

warnings: mentions of blood

word count: 1200+

author's note: another request for the books (find here)! also, i couldn't resist the end references. they're just too good. also x2, 100th post woooo!

"There she is!"

"Jenna! Jenna!"

"Over here!"

What had started as a quiet dinner in celebration of your two-year anniversary had quickly descended into chaos when a few paps caught wind of the fact that America's newest 'it girl', a.k.a your lovely girlfriend, was seen in public after having disappeared off the face of the Earth for the past month (the two of you had been vacationing, and then you got sick, and then she got sick from taking care of you, so you had been homebodies while trying to recover).

The moment you stepped outside of the restaurant, hand intertwined with Jenna's and body pulled close into her back so that she wouldn't lose you amongst the crowd, you were swarmed by flashing lights that blinded your eyes, shouts of your girlfriend's name that were almost deafening, and people, people, people.

Jenna had an iron-clad grip on your hand, but people were shoving you in the opposite direction as they tried to get a close-up shot of your girlfriend, and your body couldn't take the struggle of being pulled in two different ways. Before you knew it, you had lost your hold on the actress and were left drowning in the sea of photographers.

"Y/N?" Jenna's voice rang clear above the commotion. You stretched your neck to try and look for her, but it was no use: she was too crowded.

If we ever get separated, just meet me at the car, okay? she had told you when the two of you first began dating, back when you hadn't yet realized what you were getting yourself into.

Just meet at the car, you thought. Simple enough.

You tried to maneuver past people, keeping your head down and your eyes trained on your feet so that you wouldn't step on any toes. However, it was much easier said than done as the spaces between bodies grew smaller and smaller, making it nearly impossible for you to get by.

"Sorry. 'Scuse me, could I just--" you tried, but to no avail. You had barely moved an inch when you heard her voice again.

"Y/N?!" She sounded closer this time, like she was moving toward you. You still had no visuals on her, but if she was trying to make her way to you, then you could make it easier on her and try to find her as well, right?

Guess we're jumping in, you thought with a huff.

You pushed against people, having much less care for their toes this time around, and used your arms to try spreading them apart, creating little gaps for you to slip through. It took you a few minutes, but finally, finally, you could see a head of brunette hair and a pair of wide, frantic eyes as they flitted from one person to the next, undoubtedly looking for you.

"Jenna!" you called, and her head snapped in your direction. There was still a line of people separating the two of you, but as her eyes softened and the crease between her brows disappeared, you knew that she could see you.

"Y/N!" she shouted in relief as her arm shot toward you, her fingers wiggling in desperation.

You reached for her, hand brushing over peoples' shoulders and past their faces, and just as her finger skimmed over the metal of your ring, you were thrown sideways by a photographer, hitting the concrete hard.

Your vision blacked, your ears rang, and you could feel liquid pooling beneath your head. Is that...? You blinked your eyes open and sat up slightly, the pads of your fingers dipping into the puddle. You cringed when you saw they were red. Oh, that's my blood.

You looked up when you noticed people were parting quickly, their feet shuffling to the side and creating a large circle around you. Jenna rushed into the middle, her arms extended toward you. She kneeled down, taking your cheeks in her hand.

"Oh my god," she said. She pulled you closer to inspect your injury. "You're bleeding."

The cameras never stopped clicking.

"I'm okay," you said, even though she sounded a bit muffled to you and she was a little blurrier than normal.

"You're bleeding," she repeated, like you hadn't heard her the first time.

You placed your hand over her own, palm pressed against her knuckles. "I'm fine, baby."

She huffed, and you watched as her eyes turned from worried to enraged. She looked up at the paps, her lip turned up in disgust. "Look at what you guys did! She's bleeding and you guys are still taking your goddamn pictures?!"

Oh shit, you thought. This is gonna be everywhere tomorrow. You could already imagine the headlines: Jenna Ortega -- America's It Girl, or America's Bitch Girl?

"Jenna, baby," you cooed, calling her attention back to you before any more damage could be done to her 'good girl' reputation. "I'm alright, see?" You stood, albeit on shaky legs, and the woman was quick to wrap her arm around your waist, helping to hold you steady. "Let's just go home."

Jenna pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, a million different emotions flickering through her eyes. "I have half a mind to shove their damn cameras up their asses," she muttered, loud enough for only you to hear. Her grip tightened. "Or better yet, beat them all over their heads with their stupid fucking--"

"J, come on." You started ushering her toward where the car was parked, and she sighed, annoyed.

"Fine." She used her body to shield you from any photographers that dared to follow, which, to your surprise, there were plenty. "But if one of them so much as looks at you the wrong way, I swear I'll--"

"Do something involving their cameras up their asses, I know," you said, chuckling.

"Damn right I will," she grumbled, reaching out to open the passenger's side door for you. You offered her a grateful smile before slipping into the car and watching as she rounded the hood. She gave one last Kubrick-like stare to the remaining paps before joining you, huffing as she sat behind the wheel.

The two of you sat in silence for most of the ride home, with Jenna grumbling and mumbling to herself, and you trying to ignore the pounding in your head. It wasn't until you were on the street of your shared apartment that she spoke up.

"I should sue them all," she said. "Sue every last one of them."

You giggled. "Oh yeah? And what's that gonna do?" you asked lightly.

"Teach them a damn lesson about personal space." She clenched her jaw. "Clearly they didn't learn anything about it in preschool."

"Baby, I'm fine." You placed a hand on her thigh, your thumb rubbing at the hem of her dress. "There's no need for suing or beating any of them up."

She parked the car and turned to you, eyes glowing in the light of the parking lot. "They hurt you." She reached up and placed her fingers on your jaw, tilting your head upward slightly. "You have blood on your forehead."

You shrugged. "'Tis but a scratch," you said, grinning as you quoted a line from one of your favorite movies. Jenna rolled her eyes, though the smallest of smirks was beginning to show.

"Whatever, nerd." She leaned over the center console and pressed a quick kiss to your lips. "Let's just get you cleaned up."

You smiled. "I'm invincible!"

"Stop quoting Monty Python!"

[cowboyfromh3ll]

OKAY BESTIE I'VE GOT ANOTHER ONE

It's John's turn this time.

The reader is Dutch's daughter still.

Dutch starts dating John's mother, and they have a dinner to introduce the kids. (They're 18 ans 23 but) since Dutch is serious about this woman, he wants her son (who still lives at home... also maybe has an emo band but thats besides the point) and his daughter to meet each other.

Cue another stereotypical porn scenario, except this one of the Stepbro variety

I absolutely loved Cola.

Have you heard the song "She keeps me up" by nickelback? (Ik nickelback is kinda cringe but this song 💋👌)

It reminded me of this prompt because one of the lines is:

"Funky little monkey, she's a twisted trickster.

Everybody wants to be the sister's mister

Coca cola, roller coaster

Love her even though I'm not supposed to."

MX

(StepBro!John Marston x Dutch’s Daughter!Reader Smut)

WOOOO MY GOD this was sooooo fun to write and it's one of the best pieces of literature I have ever written. Enjoy.

Warnings: Stepcest, age gap, unprotected piv, reader is a pervert with a wild imagination

You had a near giddy sense of optimism at the thought of that day's coming events. The lust was like an IV drip in your veins, spreading through your body rapidly enough to make you feel lightheaded from excitement. You tumbled out of bed and pranced towards the bathroom like a deer frolicking through a field, though with your hazy state of mind, it felt more like dragging yourself towards the bathroom with the helpless awareness of someone realizing they’d been slipped a drug. You swung open the door with such great ferocity you thought you might rip it off its hinges if you weren’t careful.

You tried to take relief in the surging water of the shower, cranking the handle the furthest you could; the bathroom filling with steam within minutes. You stood underneath the water, watching the way each droplet drummed against the bottom of your tub hypnotically. You thought of the boy you were hours away from meeting in an introductory dinner, your father informing you he was named John. From pictures your father had so graciously shown you, you knew he was your type. He looked considerably older than you, though not by too much. Young looking enough that people wouldn’t give you questioning looks if they saw you walking together in public hand in hand, or perhaps sharing a milkshake; seductively licking the whipped cream off the corner of his mouth before dipping your own finger in the fluffy confection.

His skin looked nearly wet in the picture your father showed you, standing next to his mother in some outside area (You barely remembered what she looked like, far too focused on him). The oily lubricants of sweat caused his hair to cling to his forehead; the effortless feather of his side-swept bangs that were just slightly too long framing his left eye. You’d imagined that if you pushed them back, the path of his shining forehead would be exposed. The thought alone made your heart quicken as if he had just stripped naked in front of you. You went on to imagine that after pushing back his bangs, you’d lick his forehead; likely tasting of the sweat on his inner thighs and the crevices of his torso.

You smiled at the thought as you slathered the syrupy body wash across your breasts, hoping your skin would ferment with the scent and create an intoxicating alcohol in the air. You began to imagine John inhaling the rousing fragrance of your cherry vanilla shampoo as you massaged your scalp; the result of accidentally leaning far too forward next to him while he showed you something on his phone screen, a swath of velvety hair brushing against his nose as he tried his best not to deeply inhale you. You soon became so dizzy from your own thoughts that you clumsily supported yourself on the shower wall before sliding down. You extracted the shower head from its holder before turning the notch to a narrow stream of high pressure and holding it between your legs the same way a medic would put an oxygen mask on a patient slipping from consciousness.

You chose your outfit for the day carefully. You decided that today you’d brandish a mini baby pink slip dress, the material imperceptibly sheer; slight enough that they wouldn’t be able to discern the outline of your lacy underwear; but sheer enough that upon closer inspection, they’d be able to make out the prints of your hardened nipples and the color of your smooth breasts. For the special occasion, you wore no bra but donned a simple white cropped cardigan. Only upon entering the privacy of John’s bedroom, if allowed, would you discard the fabric to allow the cold air of the house to make a show of your hardened nipples for your target. Until you were able to engage in true contact with the man, you’d use his hungry stares as sustenance. You’d imagined John had never been with someone so deliciously supple, someone so curvaceous and tempting, that he couldn’t mask the direction in which his eyes traveled and the delight at what he was looking at.

When you check the weather for the day, your heart swelled in satisfaction at the realization of what the record high southern heat would bring. You licked your lips as you watched the news anchor on TV, almost able to taste the flavor of John’s sweat on your tongue. The piquancy would cause your mouth to water in delight, and you began to clench your legs painfully together as if to muffle the screeching desire that clawed away at the ornately papered walls of your meridional mansion.

As you shuddered, your father walked into the living room with an equally blissful smile on his face. “Goodmorning, sweetheart.” He called before walking over and planting a tender kiss to your temple. “Are you ready for tonight?” You nodded enthusiastically, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically as you realized your own excitement. In the past, you had never been particularly keen on meeting your father’s girlfriends, but it wasn’t often they had a hot son under their wing and this situation seemed too good to pass up.

The ride to their house was torturous; restless in the passenger seat of your father’s corvette as he drove down the road. Even though he was already driving above the speed limit, a part of you wanted to shove your father out of the driver's seat and drive there on your own at record speed, pushing the gas pedal to its limits. You tried your best to not bite your nails, painted cherry squares that gleamed like red vinyl; it was a habit you had ditched in the throes of your childhood. As you and your father pulled into the driveway of a quaint suburban home, all judgment you might’ve initially had left you as you remembered the prize that awaited you inside; like a parcel sitting inside an ornately wrapped gift box. You squinted your eyes against the bleached out concrete of their driveway, looking past the beat up looking 1900 Audi 100 and towards the doorway. The stone paved walkway served as an umbilical path to the inside; the bottom of your Repetto Camille heels scraping against the granular surface of their front steps, each strike of your heel against the ground a sharp reminder of what awaits you. It felt like a daydream, like you were walking a path of luminous sugar.

The rap of your father’s knuckle against the front door snapped you back to reality, and you stood there skittishly. You straightened your posture and flashed your father an enthusiastic smile which he returned. The door creaked open in front of you, revealing the woman of your father’s affections, but not the man of yours. Nonetheless, you held your smile and greeted the woman. You watched as the two exchanged kisses on the cheeks, before she turned to face you.

“Oh it’s so good to meet you, (Name)!” She stuck her hand out to shake yours, which you gingerly accepted and shook. “I’ve heard so much about you.” She went on to say, which made you smile wider.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Ms. Marston.” You nodded, your eyes skidding to look behind her to see if John was there. A sense of disappointment began to swell within you as you considered the fact that he may not be there; he was a grown man after all, and he could decide whether or not he wanted to be present to meet his mother’s new partner. The realization felt akin to the bittersweet pain of heat leaving your genitals upon retracting your hand before you could reach orgasm.

“Please, step inside. Dinner is nearly ready.” She stepped aside to allow you in, and you did so in a sluggish manner. The woman led you down the hall, presumably to her living room. When you turned the foyer into the living room, you nearly crumpled to your knees.

There, on the couch, you beheld the love of your life. Your chest began to surge when he turned to face the three of you, at once standing in a show of practiced politeness. His awkward gait as he walked over nearly made you screech in desire. Now that he stood before you, you drank in details you weren’t able to capture from mere pictures. Healed scars almost white in comparison to his tanned, stubbled skin. The small bump on his nose as it curved to a rounded tip. The girth of his generous biceps, decorated in embellishing ink designs, not revealed in the portrait style pictures you had seen. The slight downturn of his brown eyes contrasting his rough features.

Before you knew it, he was standing before you, seemingly last in the assembly line to be greeted by him. “Nice to meet you, I’m John.” His southern drawl made you shiver, your teeth chattering as you lifted your hand to his. The initial feeling of skin to skin contact made you want to cry out; the single touch alone would’ve been enough to satiate you for the entire night and until your next meeting. But your longing grew teeth, and you were ready to maul the man before you. There was a distinct gentleness in the way you took his hand, flashing him your best smile as you batted your eyelashes. “I’m, (Name).” You chirped. “Pleasure to meet you.” And what a pleasure it would be, indeed, you thought. You noted the calluses on the tips of his fingers, imagining what their roughness might’ve felt like grinding into your clit. As the two of you parted hands, you smoothed the tips of your fingers over his wrist and slid them over his palm. You watched his face to pick up on any reactions to your strangely intimate gesture, relishing in the way his adams apple bobbed harshly.

“See, they’re already getting along.” Your father joked. You offered genuine laughter, finding amusement in the unintentional literalness of his statement.

“Oh, yes! Let me check up on dinner to see if it’s ready yet.” John's mother began walking towards the kitchen, to which your father followed closely behind her.

“I’ll come with you, the two can acquaint themselves for a bit.” He patted her shoulder, offering you and John a polite yet expectant smile. You and your father seemed to have a hive mind that night, because the set up couldn’t be any more perfect. You stepped around the arm rest of the couch and sat down on the cushioning, seemingly assessing the comfort of the pillows to see how well of a surface they’d make for cunnilingus.

Your attention was drawn back to John, who was sitting in a reclining chair vertical to the loveseat you sat on. “There’s some water on the table if you’d like some.” He motioned towards the tray on the table, which held 4 glasses.

“Thank you.” You said, a small purr in your inflection as you reached for a glass and brought it to your lips. John watched with near a hypnotized demeanor as you tipped the cup back, your rouge lipstick leaving a print on the side of the cup. He watched as the pink flesh of your tongue flicked over the rim of the cup tentatively, catching a few loose droplets of water. John looked so nervous he looked like he might throw up all over his shoes, and your small gestures were enough to start up a tremble in him.

“So,” you began, the sound of you setting your cup down causing John to jerk. “Tell me about yourself, John!” You said enthusiastically. You hadn’t noticed how wide you were grinning, perhaps too excited for a simple meeting. He looked at you as though you had just asked him the meaning of life. You gave him an encouraging nod, something you would’ve never otherwise done if this were any other boy. But you could make special exceptions.

He sat up and drummed on his thighs, deep in thought. “Uh, well… I’m twenty three-”

You couldn’t help but lick your lips at the mention of his age, passing it off as blithely wetting your dry lips. You listened attentively as he recounted the rudimentary details of his life, your eyes focusing on the scars littered across one side of his face. You imagined what it’d be like to skate your tongue across them, allowing your tongue to linger on one end before sliding back down the other direction.

“The car out in the front is mine, actually.” There was a small inflection of pride in his voice, though you couldn’t remember the conversation having gotten to the point of discussing cars in your daydream.

“Oh really? It’s quite nice.” You supposed talking up a man’s ego would be the easiest way to get him out his pants, and his car seemed to be a soft spot for him. Though comparably, if you were talking cars, you’d be doing him a service driving him around in yours. Imagine the fun you two would have! You’d pick him up in your baby blue audi roadster; he’d sit a bit awkwardly at first on the passenger side, his legs bent up too far to avoid having the skin on the back of his knees touch the hot leather of the seat. You’d drive him down an isolated road with the top down as you floored the gas, letting the wind hit your bodies in some form of foreplay. Before long, you’d be surrounded by overgrown greenery and untamed woods, and you’d tell him to slide his jeans down so you could pull his cock out and fellate him.

“Y’know, I actually have quite a few cars. Maybe you can check ‘em out sometime?” You offered, feigning innocence. His eyes widened slightly at your mentioning of having several cars of your own. “Yeah?” He asked in disbelief.

You nodded. “Yeah! Maybe I’ll even let you drive one.” You giggled, feeling exultation at making him laugh as well, even if it was nervous laughter. You hoped that upon accepting your invitation to view your cars in some impromptu meet, it’d be easy to seduce and fuck him in the back seat of one of your coupes.

"Ha, never imagined my mom would find herself a rich fella. Now I'll be able to borrow my rich sister's cars." Having him call you his sister felt like a kick in the skull, it was like being unwillingly pulled into a group project you had no intentions of being a part of. "Well, I'm not quite your sister." In an act of defiance, you shed the thin cardigan and puffed your chest out, pulling the thin strings tying the front together like you were unwrapping a gift; the lighting from the chandelier made your dress appear subtly translucent. You suppressed the smirk that threatened to come onto your face when you heard him cough and clear his throat. "Think of it as borrowing your friend's cars " You turned to look at him again, flashing a toothy smile that dismissed any ulterior motives.

"Uhm, yeah." His porcelain voice shivered with forming cracks. He crossed one thigh over the other, leaning back in his seat and sucking in a deep breath. Now that he was actually in front of you, you could take a moment to study his clothing of choice. It seemed that that day he himself had decided to brandish baggy black jeans that bunched around his ankles, and a black band shirt that read 'Alice In Chains'. Not only that, he had a few studded leather bracelets around his wrists. You wondered what he'd look like with a similar choker around his neck, attached to a leash as you sat on his back with a leather crop like he was your mount of choice.

"I like your style!" You complimented, taking another sip of your water. The remark seemed to work in your favor, causing him to sit up straight and smile in pride. Indeed, the way inside a man's heart, and pants, was to talk him up.

"Thank you, I like yours too." His tone was hushed, briefly flickering his eyes down your body before your father walked in. "Hey you two, dinner’s ready." He announced. You dropped all seductive pretenses and faced your father, pulling your cardigan back on while smiling. "Alright daddy!"

The two of you promptly followed behind Dutch, who already seemed to know his way around the house as he led you towards the dining room. John mechanically set the table as his mother droned on about how excited she was to have finally met you, putting a hand on your shoulder with familiar proximity. You did not mind the touch, but you detested the idea of it being perceived as motherly by your father or John. You sat across from John on the mahogany dinner table, which was a heartland expanse of wood long enough for you to lay down on as John pillaged you. Though the four sharp corners of the table were somehow symbolic; a reminder to not go out of bounds on this dinner.

The dinner went on as planned by your father: blithe introductions and a lighthearted atmosphere, your father encouraging you to speak of your achievements casually to show what a great unit the two of you were without sounding pretentious. Though you supposed speaking about all your pageantry awards and college certificates along with your impressive resume was anything but; feeling instead like you were in the middle of some high stakes interview that determined the rest of your life. In a way, you thought it did though. Afterall, the man of your dreams was sitting across from you, and you wanted to impress him. But John seemed to sink in his chair the more you spoke, his eyes flickering occasionally towards his mother, who's jaw only seemed to open wider the more you shared.

"Quite a daughter you've got, Dutch! You should be proud." She cheered, flashing you a warm smile in the process. You returned it before looking over across from you, and John himself seemed to be impressed. But it was more of an ashamed look, as if he were trying to telepathically communicate to his mother 'don't be disappointed in me because I don't have all those achievements under my belt'.

In an act of consolation, you slipped your foot out of your shoe and ran it up his leg, not once looking at him as you did so, stopping to rest your toes on his knee. Perhaps a rush of your judgment, but you felt his entire leg go rigid beneath your foot as he froze, his fork stopping mid way on its path towards his mouth. You continued conversation with your father like it was nothing, a skill born out of practice. You retracted your foot momentarily, an imaginary static shock connecting the two of you as you flickered your eyes towards him briefly, who was staring back at you with aroused disbelief.

"Would you like some more water, (Name)?" John's mother asked, pitcher in hand. You nodded and thanked her, watching the way the cup filled before flashing John a more sultry smile, knowing and empathetic. It said all the words you could not speak out loud. You rested your chin on the back of your hand as you listened to John's mother speak about the multiple clients she saw a day as a real estate agent. You took John's reaction as a green light, opting towards a more bold move. The initial touch had been a pop quiz, now this was the big exam. Once again, your foot traveled up his shin, stopping only for a moment at his knee, as if waiting for one last sign of rejection, before reaching past his thigh and landing at his crotch, rubbing front to back again and again while your father spoke of his own business. Upon applying more pressure to his half erect genitals with the sole of your foot, John's knee reflexively jerked and slammed up into the table, causing you to pull your foot back and shove it into your shoe before anyone could see what you were doing.

Dutch and John's mother looked at each other before looking at John in confusion. "Are you okay, hon?" His mother asked. Her concern-laden question made you want to laugh. John cleared his throat and nodded, shifting in his seat.

"Yeah, mom." He confirmed. She didn't appear too convinced, but she didn't want to rouse any sort of uncomfortable conversation in the middle of dinner. You smiled to yourself in satisfaction, a small victory cheer playing out in your head. The rest of dinner went without a hitch, occasionally stopping to rest your foot on top of John's shoe. He still held an expression of confusion and disbelief, a tinge of arousal; but not once did he move his foot away.

By the end of dinner, John's mother insisted he show you to his room so you could see all his rock memorabilia, something she thought a woman of your age would enjoy seeing. And while you had never dabbled in the more alternative side of fashion and music, it was certainly something that you thought made a man more attractive. John had a stiff air about him as the two of you got up and excused yourself from the dinner table, and you reveled in his tenseness as you walked alongside him. He was quiet the entire walk as if in deep contemplation, not once looking at you out of fear that if he did, he might turn to see some sort of succubus had taken your place. Though once you reached the steps leading up to the second floor, you made a point of stepping directly in front of John as you traversed upwards.

You could feel his eyes train on your ass, the shortness of your dress and the movement of your hips affording him a peek beneath the hem of your dress and to your lace clad ass. As if you were a magician hypnotizing him with some sort of mystical locket by swaying it back and forth, he followed you up in a trance. It wasn't until you stopped at the top of the stairs, turning your torso to face him, did he rip his eyes away from your posterior and up to face you. You smirked unabashedly, as if to tell him you caught him staring.

"Which room is yours?" You asked, looking back to the hallway.

"Oh, right this way." There was a small pep in his step as he led you down the carpeted hall. When he reached the door, he pushed it open and stepped aside to allow you in.

"Ladies first." He said, a tinge of amusement in his voice.

"What a gentleman." You said as you stepped in. You stood in the center of his room, looking around at its slightly disheveled state. He clearly hadn't anticipated having anyone in his room that night, only expecting a quaint dinner. His walls were decorated with several posters of bands, all dressed in a similar fashion as him while carrying electric guitars and wildly thrashing their hair. His navy blue bed sheets on his unmade that you so badly wanted to throw yourself onto face first before inhaling deeply. He had a few guitars of his own propped up against the wall, and you took an instant liking to the bright red one. There were stray t-shirts littered across the floor; his closet door bulging open to reveal more black clothes.

"I like your room, it's so you." You smiled at him, crossing your arms beneath your chest. John stepped fully inside, closing the door behind him but leaving it slightly ajar.

"Thanks, I'd say it's real uh, expressive." He said, which made you giggle.

"You play?" You pointed towards the instruments, only then taking note of the amp positioned behind them.

"Yeah, I'm actually in a band."

This new piece of information was absolutely delightful, and it made you perk up. "Oh really?" You asked, leaning forward in interest. He showed that same bit of pride, gaining confidence at your sudden inquiry.

"Yeah, I'm the lead guitarist." He boasted, sitting down on the bed behind you. You looked at the spot directly next to him, and asked "May I?"

Before he could realize what you were asking, he nodded yes. The realization of what he agreed to came when you sat down so close next to him that your thighs were shy of touching each other. He made no comment about it, only deeply inhaling to steady his breath. The casualty of your prior conversation almost made him nearly forget about the little trick you pulled downstairs at dinner.

"Uhm.." He began, opening his mouth to speak but closing it as if unsure how to start. He looked at you and squinted his eyes, confused by the perplexed expression on your face feigning innocence.

"Downstairs, uh…" You cocked your brow in faux confusion, as if you had no idea where he was going with this. The action alone made John feel crazy, as if he had imagined the whole scene in its entirety and by mentioning it, you'd look at him in appalled disbelief for even imagining something so lewd with his new step sister.

Before he could continue, you cut him off. "Hey John, I have a question."

He pursed his lips before gulping. "What is it?"

"When your mother showed you the picture of my dad and I, did you touch yourself to the thought of me?"

The forwardness of the question made John’s eyes widen to gargantuan proportions. He raised one of his brows at you as if to assess whether you were serious or not, and for a moment, you felt the unfamiliar fear of the possibility of your assumptions being wrong. To emphasize how serious you were, you began undoing the front strings of your cardigan again, letting it slide down your arms along with a singular spaghetti strap, which you made a point not to fix as it slid down your shoulder.

“Uhm… I…” His hesitancy to answer was an answer of its own. You smiled and leaned into his arm, feeling the rigidity of his body. You looked at his face; he looked as though he were weighing out his options. You were sure that if you could read his mind, one end of the balancing scale would have “Remain decent during this joining of two families”, and the other end would read “Fuck my super hot step sister who clearly wants me.” And you were certain that the latter was outweighing the former.

“Well,” You began, ghosting your fingers on his thighs. “I have.” His breath hitched, eyes fixed on where your hand was. “All I can think about is touching you. I want to touch you so badly, and I want you to touch me.” You brought your face closer to his, awaiting any sort of response. He didn’t seem quite as convinced as you wanted him to be though.

“I know you want to.” You purred, laying your palm flat on his thigh, shy of a few inches from his cock. “I saw the way you were looking at me in the living room. And I know you were looking at my ass when we were going up the stairs. Just admit it.” John looked off to the side shamefully as though he’d been caught walking into a room he wasn’t welcome into. You were sure that if this were under any other circumstances, John would’ve pounced on you with as much fervor by now. But the step siblings aspect added an extra layer of shame that you viewed as unnecessarily tedious.

“John.” You said more firmly, cupping his stubbled cheek and turning him to face you directly. “Touch me.”

His hands came to the sides of your face as he lowered his mouth onto yours. You felt his pulse strike against your fingers as you continued to hold him, willfully opening your mouth in the beginning of a hungry kiss. Instantly, John shoved his tongue into your mouth, the nascent feeling of metal on his tongue as he created a sucking motion with each kiss making you shiver. You moaned into the kiss, sucking and kissing anything your mouth came into contact with. He abandoned all hesitant pretenses as his hands began to roam your body, groping and squeezing anything that filled his palm. His touches were so confident and intentional, it appeared as though he had never been scared at all. He seemed to have a perfect lexicon of your body inside his mind, knowing exactly where to touch without looking.

You turned to face him better on the bed, swinging one of your thighs over his lap. As you two separated from the kiss, his needy hands came to your straps and hooked two fingers around them, looking to you for permission before he pulled them down.

“But you’re my brother.” You joked, faking a pout.

“Your STEP-brother.” He clarified. Without another word, he yanked the strings down, exposing your pert chest and hardened nipples. He lowered his mouth to a nipple before taking it in between his lips, pulling it along with his teeth as he sucked. You lowered your head and watched the pink on skin contact, your nipple beginning to glisten with John’s saliva. You gasped and threw your head back, holding his crown in place as his tongue piercing swirled around the bud.

You reached your arms across his back and began clawing at the shirt he was wearing, pulling it up along his back until he helped you pull it over his head, temporarily interrupting his ministrations. After delivering the same attention to your other nipple, he began yanking the rest of your dress down along your body. You lifted your ass in assistance, giggling at the way he flung it across the room, hanging on the headstock of his red guitar.

“Damn, girl, you are stunning.” He smirked, taking a moment to admire your perfectly taut torso before smoothing his hands over the skin. “And you smell amazing.” He added. His comments nearly made you blush. You flung your heels off across the room, leaving you in only your red lacy underwear.

“Your turn.” You whispered, winking at him. He stood hastily and began removing his studded belt, dropping his jeans quickly after and clumsily pulling them off his ankles. His excitement made you laugh, you thought he might trip from how quickly he was moving. You licked your lips at the sight of the trail of hair dusted across his naval, disappearing beneath the waistband of his boxers; it appeared as if it were some wispy chocolate confection drizzled over his body. At this point, he joined you back in bed, remaining in his own underwear. You eyed the noticeable bulge in his underwear, a tiny wet spot where his tip lay.

“Someone’s excited.” You teased, tracing the scar that ran along his cheek.

“Shit, with someone as smokin’ as you, who wouldn’t be.” He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your neck, his teeth grazing your pulse. The two of you shared a moment of lighthearted giggles as he pulled you along further on the bed.

“You ever had a girl?” You asked. You supposed you knew the answer, but you wanted to hear it come from his mouth. Your hands wrapped around his cloth covered cock and began to stroke leisurely.

“One, but besides that, I haven’t done much.” His labored breath sounded like he was running from something. “How come?” You asked. “You’re certainly handsome.”

He shrugged, shaking his head as he tipped it back on his sternum. “No one will have me, I guess.” He laughed in self pity. In response, you squeezed his cock before lifting your hand from the wad of fabric shaped around his erection. You hooked your fingers on the elastic of his underwear, pulling it down as the head of his cock snagged on the waistband before springing free. You smirked at the sight of his Jacob's ladder piercing.

“I like it.” You complimented, looking back up at him. “Real adventurous.”

“I guess the pain would have been worth it after all.” He joked.

You lowered your head above his cock, your hair falling around you. You exhaled onto him, bathing his tip in your warm breath. With that, you licked your lips, lowering them over him, leaving a pink print wherever your lips paused. You heard a guttural moan above you, his fingers resting over your scalp as if debating whether he should grasp your roots or not. You slowly arched your neck, extending your throat until it came to his base. You delighted in the feeling of metal against your tongue, fluttering it against his underside. He made gasping noises and began bucking his hips, writhing in a disoriented way that made the tip of his cock bump against the back of your throat.

You gave him a few minutes of skilled sucking, your throat producing various wet slurps and gags as you fucked your own throat on his cock. You brushed your hair behind your ear, looking up at him through your lashes. His face twitched and contorted in pleasure, his mouth hanging open in a silent moan. You began tasting the salty bitters of pre-ejaculate on your tongue, hollowing your cheeks as you pulled your head back on his tip, giving a few more harsh sucks before popping off of it. His erection glistened and bobbed in the air as you looked up at him seductively, licking your lips before leaning back up towards eye level. His eyes remained trained on his own cock, looking as if to see if it was still attached.

“Your turn.” You whispered before placing your fingertips on his chest, pushing him back to lay on the bed, his head landing comfortably on his pillow. His lips twitched into an excited smile as you shuffled over him, your knees on either side of his torso. His shaky hands came to grip the back of your thighs, his pointer fingers digging into the plump flesh where your thigh curved into your ass.

You couldn’t believe how close the two of you were to actually fucking. You had a small growing sense of paranoia that your father or John’s mother may decide to walk upstairs, the carpeted floor cushioning their muted footsteps. That they’d throw the door open and see the clothes strewn across the floor, before landing on you sitting atop of John. You sweeped the thought away, deciding to enjoy this for as long as possible. You gripped the head board as you walked your knees to the sides of his neck, looking down at his excited face.

“You know what would be really hot?” You asked, squaring your cunt in front of his mouth. “If you took ‘em off with your teeth.” He leaned up with the obedience of a dog, pinching the elastic between his front teeth before sliding them down, his canines lightly scraping the tender flesh of your thigh. You shuddered as goosebumps wracked your body, the feeling of his nose traveling down your pubic bone making you want to cry out in ecstasy. Your thighs nearly sandwiched his neck, and as your panties pooled at your knees, it only required a slight tilt of your pelvis before you straddled his face fully, releasing your weight onto his mouth. His hands came to grip your ass, squeezing and pulling the globes of flesh in opposite directions.

His lips quickly latched onto your clit, sucking before he opened his mouth and flattened his tongue along your cunt; the feeling of cold metal making you yelp. Without waiting for the green light, you began grinding down onto his face. You bit your lip to avoid the risk of being found out, scrunching your face up at your best attempt to keep quiet. The bottom half of John’s face quickly became marinated in your enthusiasm, eating you out with the same eagerness as if he had just got a new car and was driving it for the first time.

He moaned into your pussy, his tongue laving between your lips and labia, circling your clit before sliding back down to your molting hole. He slid his wet muscle inside you, effectively tongue fucking you as you ground your clit into his nose. He gave your ass a playful spank, a sharp quick cut into the static haziness of your wanton acts which made you keenly aware of the fact either of your parents might’ve heard that. But you couldn’t find it in you to chastise him, he was far too engrossed in eating you out, and very excitedly.

John gripped your ass more forcefully now, manually shoving your cunt further onto his face as he continued to suck and lick. He was doing this with the full intention of making you cum. You bit the back of your hand, grinding so hard into his face you thought you might break the mattress. With a few more harsh sucks, you felt a flash of heat as you came all over John’s mouth and chin, barely able to suppress your cry of euphoria. He wrapped his mouth fully around your cunt, swallowing as much of your cum as he could before going back to sucking on your oversensitive clit. Your grinds slowed to a halt before you climbed off his head, seeing just how spent and drenched his face was.

You laughed in amusement. “My god.” You continued to giggle, feeling a sense of tenderness for him. He had a satisfied smile on his face as he laughed.

“How’d I do?” He lifted himself on his elbows as you moved off of him, leaning your back against the wall as you shed your panties off of your legs fully.

“Well you made me cum so I’d say pretty fucking good.” You giggled, patting him on the knee. Your cunt was a spent pool of pleasure, but the ache inside you continued to burn. You imagined he felt the same way, his cock somehow harder and in more need of touch.

“Take these off fully, already.” You pouted, moving to yank his underwear fully off his legs, throwing it into the pile of clothes next to his bed. You turned to face him. “How do you wanna fuck me?” You asked. He sat up suddenly and moved to the side, patting the pillow where he once laid.

“I wanna look at you while we do it.” Wordlessly, you followed his order and laid on your back, hugging your knees to your chest as he positioned himself above you. He took your ankles and settled them on his shoulders, giving the sides of your feet a kiss before gripping his cock and guiding it inside you. You nodded in encouragement, your mouth falling into a silent o as he slid in slowly to the hilt. He sucked in shaky breaths, trying his best to contain any sounds. He decided to lean forward and over to his night stand, pulling out a random CD before popping it into the player atop. At once, the sound of guitars and drums and smooth vocals filled the room, masking any sounds you made. He cranked the volume up, hastily beginning to thrust inside you.

It was the perfect cover up, one John’s mom wouldn’t question. It made sense, after all, for John to be sharing some of his music taste with you up in his bedroom, no matter how obnoxiously loud it might be. The two of you began in a chorus of moans and grunts, the wet sounds of skin on skin accompanying the playing of the band. John paused his movements momentarily to reach for an extra pillow aside your head before shoving it under your hips, helping him in elevating your pelvis. You let out a particularly loud squeal at the newly reached depth, letting loose a stream of obscenities about how good John was fucking you.

His hair began sticking to his forehead the same way it did in that one photograph, the sight of it making your cunt tighten around him. You dragged him down toward you by the arm, before sweeping his bangs to the side and landing a stripe of saliva on his forehead. The racy flavor made you shudder in delight, and you moved to wrap your arms around John’s neck to hold him in place. He buried his head into the crook of your neck, gripping the headboard as both of your bodies jerked from each movement. If the bed was squeaking, you wouldn’t have known; far too stimulated by the sounds of your bodies moving in tandem along with Chino Moreno’s singing.

John lifted his face to press his sweaty forehead to yours, an expression of pure ecstasy on his debauched features. The functioning awareness of his brain lagging behind his own body as it tried to register what had just happened, what was currently happening, and what was about to end. His eyes opened momentarily and you saw a sense of bewilderment for his own actions, before shutting slowly again in bliss. An involuntary and guttural noise left his mouth as he came inside you. The uncontrolled wince of his face combined with the spreading warmth in your abdomen tipped off your own orgasm, and you came harder than you had before. In the moment, you hadn’t registered that the way you screamed was akin to the primal screech one would release upon being fatally wounded.

As the next track on the album came to an end, the two of you remained in the same position catching your breaths. John seemed to snap back to his senses when he looked down to where you connected, a ribbon of cum dripping out of you. When he removed himself his horrors were only confirmed further.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I-I’ll pay for your plan b, I-” You sat up and waved your hand dismissively.

“On the pill, don't worry.” You reassured, which seemed to effectively calm his nerves. You sat up again, resting your back on the headboard.

“Wow.” He said, smiling at you widely.

“Wow, indeed.” You said.

“That was the best sex of my life.” He slapped your thigh before rubbing it, which you welcomed by placing your hand over his. “There’s more where that came from.” You winked once again and leaned forward to kiss him. The two of you shared a non-sexually charged kiss before separating.

“Alright.” You pat his knee, “Let’s get dressed now before my dad or your mom come up.”

The two of you got dressed simultaneously, slipping your dress on quickly before studying your hair and makeup in a nearby mirror. You picked up your panties and tossed them back towards John, who just barely caught them.

“Keep 'em, as a trophy.” You giggled as you watched him stuff them in his pocket. “Will do.”

The two of you made a haste trip to the bathroom to clean yourselves up and make sure you looked presentable before going back downstairs again. The two of you shared a tender moment where you dabbed away the sweat on each other's foreheads with crumpled up tissues. Upon your return downstairs, you found your respective parents sitting on the couch chatting, before they turned to face you two.

“How’d you two get along?” Asked Dutch. John’s mother looked on in enthusiasm, clapping her hands together. “I’m assuming well, John put on one of his favorite CDs to show you after all.” She cooed. The two of you looked at eachother knowingly with blithe laughter that suggested nothing out of the ordinary had happened at all.

“Yeah,” You began. “I think we’re gonna get along great.”

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MX - Deftones

[cursedseabunny]

Jaune and Woomy (New Designs)

Updated Jaune and Woomy's look cause I didn't like they're old designs, now Jaune actually looks like a Searchlight lmao-

(Same lore from the old ref blog with some updated stuff:)

Classification: Z-??? [Juvenile Vultus Limunaria] Nickname given: "Jaune" Gender identification: Female [She/her] Size: 6ft Status: Alive

Classification: Z-SQ-V-13 Nickname given: "Woomy/Wom" Gender identification: Non-Binary/Masc leaning [It/It's/He] Size: 3ft Status: Alive

She was a juvenile Searchlight who was forcibly taken into the foundation for experiments. Combined Human dna for intelligence and axolotl dna to keep her alive and durable for tests. Was made as a life form to communicate with the other creatures in Urbanshade under the water so that scientist didn't have to and risk their lives.

She has a shop set up right after the Searchlight Grand encounter. She likes the Searchlight there because "It protects me from the scary scientist men" She always has medkits and batteries, but the other items vary. "Shocked yourself? Here take a kit, but it's gonna cost you..." She stays in a pool of water in the middle of the room, the floor looks cracked and the body of water under her seems to go very deep. She can access Sebastian's room to get supplies or have a chat with him. If her room is found during an underwater section, her whole room is also underwater and she's in the middle of it where you can see her whole body

Her and Sebastian have a sibling like relationship, younger sister to older brother kind. She'll lightly flash him with her eyes just to mess with him

She has a Squiddle friend named Woomy who holds the keycard to the next room. "Hmm? Oh him? That's Woomy, he don't like lights much but he's super sweet, wouldn't hurt a fly" Woomy hides in a dark corner only really visible due to it's purple eyes.

Reactions to being flashed by the Flash Beacon: [She has a very low chance to just straight up kill the player instantly, but that chance raises each flash] *blinks* "... I can do that too, you're not special..." *blinks* "... rude..." *blinks* "I give you items and this is the thanks I get?" *instantly uses her 5 eyes to flash back brighter, stunning the player for 5 seconds* [BADGE EARNED: Hydrogen Light Vs Coughing Beacon] "Think fast chuckle nuts!" *Flashes the player* *after 5 flashes:* "Ok you can stop now" "Knock it off" "I'll kill you, don't test me"

Sebastian comments after being killed by Jaune: (handing the file) "Well what'd you think was gonna happen?" "She warned you" "Dang, not even a warning?" *Chuckles* (Instantly killed after 1 flash) *Holding back laughter* "You REALLY don't learn do you?" (If flashed Sebastian earlier and lived/Death coined after being killed by him) "Guess you didn't think fast"

(Closing file) "Guess she wasn't in a good mood huh?" (Instantly killed after 1 flash) "That wasn't the Brightest idea, was it?" *Chuckles* "Even after what I did... you still insist on doing that to others..." (If flashed Sebastian earlier and lived/Death coined after being killed by him) "Maybe don't flash the only people trying to help, hmm?" (If flashed Sebastian earlier and lived/Death coined after being killed by him) "Epic light battles of history, Hydrogen Light Vs Coughing Beacon!"

Jaune kills the player by stabbing them with her hooks/harpoons and drags them underwater where she stays, she doesn't say anything, just makes an angry Searchlight noise. But if her shop is underwater, she's still grab the player with the harpoons and then slam them on to the wall. She'll also steal the intercom thing from Sebastian while players are waiting in the Submarine bay and say various things: [Jaune] [Sebastian] -"Jaune- JAUNE GIV-" "LET'S GO GAMBLING WOOOO" -"What are you-" "Mods, Pandemonium room 30 this Expendable" -"You can't keep m- *Rustling* Wait Jaune- stop-" "Oh look at me, I'm Sebby Shoelace, I'm an edgy little- *THUNK* OW-" -"I've come to make an announcement, Urbanshade is a... *whisper* What do you mean I can't finish this reference?"

[brainrot-stitch]

Chronically ill tss light steve truthers wya....

Anyways chat u won't believe what I have on the mind rn

There's an episode early steve saga where light steve traps sabre in the snow thing and builds a house or temple or whatever and Sabres like "come on man I'm already sick this is cold:(" or whatever. Do u guys remember that. Or am I actually js fucking crazy and making this shit up wait hold on let me go check rq I FOUND IT "come on man I already have a cold you're letting me stay out in the snow and all that?" At 9:38 on the video where he first finds light steve. Giggles and kicks my feet imagine if sabre got sick(er) and light steve being both a steve and a cold icy snowy guy didn't know that. That the cold is not good for ppl. So sabre gets sick and light is like ?? Idk if this is a good idea or not it's 7 am I woke up at like 2 or maybe 4 I'm not sure I mightbe delulu

ANYWAYS random yapping woooo none of this is gonna b coordinated

Anyways anyways yea rainbow steve trauma from the experimenting and machines early steve saga but also. Sabre being scared of deep water and/or drowning. Because of both blue steve and rainbow steve mann that mf has almost drowned a LOT over and over again. Just so much water. Rip 💔💔 rainbow is like "let's go swimming!!!" One day in the rainbow town and Lukas is like "yea sure it's a hot day out that would b cool" or whatever and Sabre is like "uhhhh hahsha yeaahhhh sureee.."

Uhhh uh um

Early tss light and sabre spent a good amount of time together especially alone. I like to think they bonded during this time both off and on screen. Cuz like bro rarely shows up in the rainbow town era and past that idek. But even tho light and sabre aren't as close as rainbow and sabre I still like to think they're real good pals :3

Idk if I've said this before maybe I have maybe I haven't idk but sabre when nervous or thinking or worried and anxious or whatever will pace around or take walks or whatever. But will he completely silent (unless he's muttering to himself which I can totally see happening). But like his footsteps are light and near silent because of the muscle memory or whatever from being an ASSASSIN because that's so real to me I'm such a 'sabre was an assasin in the past before tss/rq' believer u guys don't understand how derranged I am about this. Anyways yea he will accidentally fnaf jumpscare ppl just like showing up behind them or whatever its so silly

I HAVE SO MANY HEADCANONS BUT I FLIPPING FORGET THEM ALL AS SOON AS I GO TO WRITE THEM DOWN FUCK MY STUPID FRICKING LIFE 😭😭😭😭

Also I am as much of a human sabre believer as I am an avian sabre believer. Like yeah let that man be a bird but also not depending on the mood. Both r awesome

Galaxy steve does NOT know how to spell gorgeous don't ask why this is necessary information. It's real he told me himself I swear

MORE ASSASSIN SABRE BS he's a super light sleeper from having to wake up at the slightest noise and be on guard all the time. He still frequently wakes up if he hears smth his subconscious perceives as abnormal. Also i think he'd have a pretty high pain tolerance but it gets higher as tss goes on because he gets struck by lighting so damn much u can't tell me his nerves aren't at least somewhat fried 😭😭😭😭give bro a break PLEASE. Also I think posture would be a big thing like he's all played back and relaxed and silly but when they have to go like sneak somewhere they (rainbow and lucas- or js whoever he's with at the time idk) can physically see as he slips back into old familiar habits with practiced crouching and silent footsteps and staying in the shadows and all that.

Lukas was also an assasin remember. Remember guys. And his assasin skin has a scar on his face and a blind eye I think wait let me go check

YEAH. YEAH so he totally still has that during tss. Giggles and kicks my feet and twirls my hair. Anyways I haven't finishes Sabres assassins creed series yet but I think Lukas would be used to Sabres habits but he himself would have more guard habits than assasin ones. Like the posture and unconsciously reaching to rest a hand on his sword in that classic templar (is that how it's spelled??) guard fashion as like an idle thing to do w his hands before remembering its not there.

Oh also another thing on the sabre vs water didn't he like. Didn't he almost drown a few times during his assassins series too? Bro water has got it OUT for him 😭 😭

[lewkwoodnco]

and I hope it gets to you on some Pacific wind - Lockwood x Reader

will you love me like you loved me in the January rain? will you love me like you loved me and I'll never ask for more.

and I never minded being on my own, then something broke in me and I wanted to go home to be where you are but even closer to you, you seem so very far and now I'm reaching out with every note I sing and I hope it gets to you on some Pacific wind wraps itself around you and whispers in your ear tells you that I miss you and I wish that you were here

I didn't choose this town. I dream of getting out. There's just one who could make me stay...all my days.

MASTERLIST | TAGLIST part 1: I Can See You

a/n: WOOOO almost a month since my last fic (tl;dr got terribly sick, got my a level results, scholarship apps, trying to decide what I wanted to do with my life until I remembered, oh, right, I hate doing that, so now its back to fic writing) anywaysss watched miss peregrines home for peculiar children while i was sick and omg. the end credits song??? deCEASED. anyways heres a fic inspired by that song which you should definitely listen to and i definitely wont cry if you dont cbnjvfkjva bye going to get chocolate cakee

warnings/tropes: reader (unexpectedly) missing lockwood desperately after moving away, pining for someone w every fiber of your being, handling grief (NO major character death tho), angst, no happy ending :/// but some snippets of humour!

word count: 6.3k! (my longest fic yet!)

"You won't believe what they're doing at Fittes."

 She slid into a seat at Portland Row's kitchen table, oblivious to the fact that she had just stolen George's seat. George glared at Lockwood for a minute, who looked appropriately sympathetic yet slightly distracted, before picking another seat.

"Hi Y/N, how nice to see you. Again. For the third time this week. Please, make yourself at home."

"Oh, Georgie, you're so sweet." She was too distraught to pick up on George's sarcastic tone or his eye roll, though Lockwood spared him an apologetic glance. She slammed a letter onto the table, upsetting the salt and pepper shakers, which Lockwood started curiously scanning. "Unlike my daft supervisors."

There was always a flurry of activity whenever she visited Portland Row. She somehow always had so much to say, and she had to say it within the first five minutes of her being there. That usually meant Portland Row's own activities would come to a brief halt, but her news was more often than not too entertaining to incite many grievances from the inhabitants.

After their joint case involving Winkman, Lucy and George had felt the air shift between them, in a way they couldn't quite put their finger on. Something had obviously happened, especially since she had started stopping by Portland Row. They'd exchange a few obligatory insults, share the highlights of their week, and somehow not bite each other's faces off. Over time, the insults faded into the background, but they still threw in the occasional jab when things started seeming too friendly. Why they were still pretending to get into tiffs when Lockwood had slipped her a spare key was completely lost on George and Lucy. 

One unfortunate consequence was they became stuck in this weird limbo. Neither friends nor enemies, but something more rather than in between. And yet, some part of them always hesitated, and so they remained as the two singular, lonely entities they had always been. That wasn't to say they didn't have it in their hearts to feel appropriately outraged for the other when the circumstances called for it.

"Layoffs?”

"Layoffs!"

"What the hell are they laying you off for?"

"Exactly! Never mind that my team has the lowest mortality rate, or that we've never caused destruction worth any more than 500 pounds - no offence, Lockwood."

"Er, yes. At least they're giving you a decent severance package."

Apparently, that wasn't the right thing to say, and this time the egg cups went down as well.

"Overrated ass agency with fuck ass headquarters in the middle of London that I never wanted to spend the rest of my career at anyway, fuck Fittes bitch fucking Rotwell's wannabe-“

"What about Kipps?"

Her face twisted and the others braced for impact a third time. "If they don't put his head on the chopping block, I will-"

After a few cups of tea and a few more rounds of nonsensically excessive swearing, she had finally gotten her disappointment under control.

"Maybe a little rapier practice will take your mind off things?"

She pulled a face. "But my shoulder's so tired."

"Your shoulder's been tired for three weeks now. If your break goes on any longer you'll forget everything I've taught you about grips."

"Aw. Oh no."

"Yes, yes, you're very funny."

"What a tragedy."

"You could at least try to pretend like you care."

"I care! I so care. Of course I care. I've got the hottest instructor this side of the Thames."

"Only on this side of the Thames?"

"Yeah, 'cause he's also a dork ass loser who wears confetti-coloured socks."

Still, she joined him in the basement for a little bit of practice, just to refresh her memory. After that, they tried to venture into some basic lunges, which was where things started going downhill again.

"It's no use." She drove her rapier into the stand and started pulling her wrist brace off, despite Lockwood's deflating encouragement. She sat propped up against the wall, frustratedly combing through her sticky hair. "I'm hopeless at this. Maybe Fittes did know what they were doing when they laid me off."

Lockwood sighed. He put away his own rapier and joined her on the floor. "You're not the only employee they've dismissed. You just got...unlucky."

"Now I feel worse."

"My point is, things will start looking up once you move on." He fiddled with her wrist brace. hesitating. "You do know what to do next, don't you?"

She sighed. "I'll start sending out applications tomorrow. There's this agency in Canterbury I've worked with before. Maybe they'll consider having me full-time."

If she notices Lockwood being mildly taken aback, she doesn't remark on it. He manages some strangled response of approval, and their rapier practice session ends there. It's too late for her to return home by then, so they wash up and get ready for bed. It's clear the day has taken a sizeable chunk out of her when she almost immediately falls half-asleep. Lockwood worries over their conversation in the basement. He glances at her relaxed face. Yeah, she was probably still awake.

"Y/N. Y/N."

"Mm."

"You awake?"

"Mhm."

"I just wanted to tell you that...I was perfectly serious that time. When I said you could come work for me. In case you were wondering. Y/N?"

She doesn't respond, and after a few minutes, her breathing evens out again. He isn't sure if she's heard her, and is even less sure why she's doing everything in her power to stay away from Lockwood & Co.

One cold, January morning, she had been at the Archives with Lockwood & Co. where they were doing some research on their latest joint case. By the time that January morning had turned into a chilly January afternoon, George was telling Lockwood off for leaving one of the maps behind at Portland Row. Naturally, Lockwood was sent to fetch the missing materials, who, not-so-naturally, enlisted her help. 

As reluctant as she may have appeared to join Lockwood on this errand, she rested her buzzing head against the soothing, cold glass of the cab gratefully. She had been a little distracted all morning; working at a slower pace, fiddling with the large volumes disinterestedly, staring off into space. She was simultaneously irritated and relieved that Lockwood had noticed. She stared out at the foggy streets of London with her own foggy eyes, trying to make sense of the day.

She had decided to wait on their front porch while Lockwood nipped in to get the papers. While waiting, a sharp rap on their tin awning startled her. Peering up at the sky, she watched the first raindrops of that January shower land in Portland Row's garden. Soon enough, it started to pour generously. The delicate, almost curious winter daffodils drooped their heads under the violent force that was the rain coming down in sheets. In the grey of the clouds and the streets, their yellow petals made her dream of something half-happy.

Tentatively, she walked down the path and stepped into the garden. And then another step. And then another. She was frolicking in the rain for the first time in her life, and there was no one around to stop her.

She felt the rain pause, and turned to see Lockwood holding an umbrella over the two of them. She wrapped her fingers around his on the handle and, with a bit of difficulty, closed the umbrella over their heads. It was only a matter of seconds before the heavy raindrops started weighing his coat down and flattening his otherwise perfectly coiffed hair. She watched the hues of curiosity and amusement shift in his eyes, all of them tinged with the mauve of love. She watched him love her wholly, unabashedly, asking for nothing.

She felt sorry for ruining Lockwood's nice clothes only for a moment, before throwing her arms around his neck, clutching him a little stronger than what was strictly necessary. Papers forgotten, rain soaken, daffodils smitten…she never wanted it to end.

And that was when her life started to fall apart. Being laid off by Fittes had drastically changed their dynamic, and hardly for the better. It was no longer banter from one agent to another - it was one agent and the bad habit he had picked up over the months, one he didn't seem too keen on kicking anytime soon. She didn't ask to stay, and he didn't ask her to leave. And so she spent the rest of her days of unemployment at Portland Row, helping out however she could, filling out and mailing her applications.

Which brought her to her next problem - letters of recommendation.

She was sitting at the kitchen table, reading through the advertisements in the newspaper while nervously shredding its bottom corner. She didn't even look up when Lockwood placed her mug of tea in front of her. He shifted it right on top of the ad she was picking apart.

"Oh. Thanks."

"How's the job search going?"

"Not good." She sighed. "A lot of them require a letter of recommendation."

He slid into the seat next to hers, resting his chin on the back of the chair. "I'll write you a letter of recommendation."

"From my previous employer."

"So? Go over to Fittes and ask for one."

"I don't know," she said, disintegrating the final scraps of newspaper. "Seems a little awkward to go back there after they laid me off."

Lockwood took a look at his watch. "I've got a client meeting at 2, so we should leave after breakfast."

He was already climbing out of his chair and talking to George about the stove misbehaving again by the time her brain caught up. "Hang on, we?" 

Lockwood seemed to very conveniently not hear her. "Y/N, if you're not going to drink your tea, we should leave now."

She crammed the last of her toast into her mouth while shrugging her coat on, and joined him outside where he was counting out some coins in his hand.

"Should be just enough for the two of us."

"Just enough for what?"

"The bus. Lovely day, isn't it?"

The trip to Fittes was one of the worst she'd had in her life. She almost felt ashamed for getting laid off and was driving herself crazy obsessing over it. Halfway through she felt a warmth settle over her hand, and glanced down to see Lockwood's palm covering her own. He was looking out the window as if nothing had even happened, and she was looking at him. She couldn't quite tear her eyes away from the sight.

When they reached, she went up to the customer service counter while Lockwood hung back. He looked around the first-floor lobby languidly, watching everyone hurry about their da- hang on, was that Barnes coming out of a conference room? 

Lockwood smiled at him while Barnes averted his gaze and started walking out a little faster. Yes, that was most definitely Barnes. He started walking towards him and was just about to call out when he was interrupted by a slightly heated voice coming from the customer service counter.

"What do you mean you don't offer letters of recommendation?!"

A few days after they were almost-but-not-really kicked out of the Fittes headquarters, she and Lockwood were in the library reshelving some books a little before lunchtime. George and Lucy were in the kitchen, so for a while all that could be heard was the smooth sounds of books being pulled off and being put onto the shelves. Lockwood glanced at her and cleared his throat, forcefully injecting a certain nonchalance into his voice.

"I was talking to Barnes the other day."

"Hmm?"

"I think I managed to convince him that we're a big enough agency now to need health insurance."

"Health insurance? Well, don't tell George, or he'll fling himself off the roof at the first chance."

Lockwood stifled a laugh, turning it into a cough though his voice was still comically strained. "Don't go giving him any ideas, now." 

They continued rearranging the books in silence until he steeled himself enough to pick up the conversation again.

"So, what I wanted to say was...if you wanted to join Lockwood & Co... you wouldn't have to worry about your mother. Not anymore."

She paused her shelving and frowned at him. "Why do you want me to join Lockwood & Co. so badly?"

"I think you'd be...a valuable member of our team."

So close, yet so far from the few words she wanted to hear. Please join us, Y/N. Forget about all these other agencies. I'd miss you more than I could bear if you left. Go on. Say it.

"Is that all?"

"I...I suppose."

She turned back to their task, disappointed. "I've been wanting to leave London for a while now. To get out, explore...see what's out there."

He stilled for a moment, before bowing his head regretfully. "I see."

 Ask me to stay. Please.

They were sitting cross-legged in the garden on Lockwood's coat, the winter daffodils now resting their tired heads on their knees. She squinted up at the sky, now that the rain had come down to a light drizzle.

"My mum never let me go out in the rain." She smiled bitterly at him. "The rest of my friends would go out into the street in their...raincoats...wellingtons...and I'd watch them from the kitchen window. She always said I'd fall sick. And I'd always think...how terrible would it really be if I did?" 

She stared at the ground and tried very hard not to cry. "I was a kid. I just...I just wanted a bit of fun." She pressed a shaky hand to her eyes, then dragged it up to her forehead. "And now, all I want..." 

The silence filled in for the words she didn't say.

"I never thought I'd miss that."

She glanced at his face anxiously, trying to gauge his reaction. In a way, she mused, Lockwood, and whatever this was, was not all that dissimilar from the rain. It was some wish for a sickness for a fleeting moment of peace. A fleeting moment of being wanted.

He blinked away the raindrops weighing on his eyelashes. "You won't have to. She'll be alright."

"How do you know?"

He stared at a limp daffodil, whose head was being cradled by the bend of his knee, and sighed. "I don't. But some things you just have to...believe."

"I'm sick of believing."

"Then I'll believe for you."

She never knew what it was like to have someone hold onto faith when she couldn't. To have someone hold her up when her knees were buckling under her, to do what she wasn't strong enough to do herself. She cleared her throat, suddenly embarrassed. 

"You don't have to do that."

"Someone's got to do it. I'll do it for you."

It was around this point that Lockwood suddenly started getting a lot busier. He somehow never had the time to stay in the same room as her for longer than a minute, and any short passing conversations they shared felt stunted. Other than a cursory smile when they passed each other in the hallways, Lockwood seemed further to her than ever, with his cool demeanour that was somehow forever occupied with matters greater and more important than her.

After a few days of struggling with her applications on her own, Lucy suggested that she pay a visit to DEPRAC for a letter of recommendation. Thankfully, her request for the letter was successful, but her joy was short-lived, barely lasting the bus ride home.

She watched the hopelessly in love couples on the bus whisper to each other, hold hands or even just enjoy each other's company in silence. There was a guy with his hair styled in an unnervingly familiar way. It triggered a sick image of Lockwood sitting on this very bus, next to a girl with lazily attractive eyes and hair prettier than hers could ever be. It made her feel nauseous.

When she returned to Portland Row, she walked around the seemingly empty house, perplexed, until she finally found the three of them pouring over a large book in the library. Lockwood was fiddling with the shirt sleeves folded at his elbows and was the first to glance up as she gently pushed the door open.

"Hey," she smiled at them faintly, avoiding Lockwood's gaze, trying to keep the worry gnawing at her synapses at bay. She stepped inside, 

leaning over the huge book, tracing the letters with her eyes interestedly. 

"Is that the -" 

Lockwood slammed the book shut, cutting her off and sending Lucy into a coughing fit over the dust it released.

"Y/N! Find your way to DEPRAC alright?"

 It was a heavy book, she kept repeating to herself, of course it was going to take quite an effort to close it. However, from the way his forearms flexed aggressively as he stuffed the book back into its cloth cover, she wasn't entirely convinced.

"...yes. I took the bus."

"Lovely weather we're having, isn't it?" The three of them exchanged a look while Lockwood firmly tucked the book in. The grey skies peeking through the curtains looked hardly lovely. George finally caved, glaring at Lockwood.

"We were just finalising our plan for next week's case."

"I used to draw up mission plans for my team at Fittes. Maybe I could -"

"I think we're fine." Lockwood crossed his arms, his expression unnaturally surly and his jaw set in a way that gave her a sinking feeling. George threw the book at him, who only barely managed to catch it at the last second. 

"Told you we should have waited for her."

Unfortunately, matters refused to ease up over the next week. And so she somehow learned to live without him. One morning, she decided to get an early start to the day since she was going to be accompanying Lucy to the DEPRAC headquarters to submit some company paperwork. She paused at the foot of the stairs when she heard a bit of a ruckus in the kitchen, followed by some soft swearing. She crept towards the kitchen to see Lockwood scrambling to gather up an upturned first aid kit while a dark red patch swelled on his socks, still in the same attire as when he left for a solo case the previous evening.

He looked at her furiously, trying to hide his injured ankle behind the kitchen table. He seemed to become further incensed by her helping to set the first aid kit right. "Leave it. I can do it on my own."

"I'm only trying to help! Don't look at me like that, you got yourself hurt in the first place."

He spoke emphatically through gritted teeth. "I don't need your help."

"Lockwood, your sock is nearly soaked through with blood. So shut up."

Maybe the blood loss was starting to catch up to him, but for once, Lockwood did as he was told. He certainly wasn't happy about it, but he allowed her to peel back his sock and wince at the sight of the wound. As she cleaned and dressed the injury, she couldn't help but be reminded of old times when they would snap at each other, her more than him, whenever they were within ten feet of the other. It was almost nostalgic but slightly worrying to be back to square one.

When he could hold himself back no longer, he pried the bandage roll out of her hands with an unexpected gentleness, shakily winding it messily around his ankle. When he was done, she put it away with the first aid kit, and when she returned, his nose was buried in the day's paper, once again as distant as an island.

Soon after that, George and Lucy joined them for breakfast, and George almost immediately picked up on 

"Lucy, George won't leave me alone!"

"Lockwood's a pent-up git that never says what he feels!"

Lucy gave them a sidelong glance. "...right. Y/N, ready to -?"

Eyes watering, she chugged the last of her tea and clambered out of her chair, but Lockwood beat her to it. He folded the newspaper sharply, and straightened from his seat, albeit a tad unsteadily.

"No need. I'll come with you, Luce." She and Lucy exchanged a glance, and she slowly sunk back down into her seat. Lucy took in the ectoplasm on his trainers, his slightly charred shirt and the purple under his eyes.

"Are you sure? You look a little...tired."

"I've been out all night. One more trip isn't going to kill me." He patted Lucy firmly on the shoulder, his grip looking a little painful as he swayed imperceptibly, voice trailing off as he started shuffling towards the door.

His limp was unmistakable now, but the three of them knew better than to question him when he was in a mood like this, with his uneven voice and rough words dangerously close to becoming slurred. "Come now," he was saying, "let's not bother Y/N with Lockwood & Co. matters." His shifty eyes finally settled on her for the first time that morning, but she didn't like the brooding spite behind them. "Not when she has all these important applications to fill out."

The silence that followed prickled uncomfortably. Lucy scoffed and stepped out, Lockwood following her determinedly. There was some muffled argument in the hallway, then the sound of the front door opening and closing, and then silence once more. She stared at the dregs of her tea stonily, hating the way her face burned with shame. When she finally looked up, George had left, but there was a sympathy jammy dodger within reach.

It was getting dangerously close to half an hour in the rain, yet still the heavens beat down on them ruthlessly. They had retired to the front steps just outside the awning, now almost completely drenched. She shuffled her feet nervously, trying to scrounge up some warmth, while the rain flowed down Lockwood's nose freely. He was staring at the rich dark earth at his feet, like he had forgotten where he was, his coat long forgotten. She stood up and jabbed him between the shoulder blades sharply, making him snap his head up.

"It's getting cold. I'm going inside." Lockwood blinked, raindrops decorating an eyelash or two, and nodded after a moment. She sighed impatiently.

"Don't you want to come inside too?"

"...I'm not cold."

"No, but you'll fall sick if you stay out any longer."

He rubbed his face wearily, his back muscles shifting mechanically under his translucent shirt. "I'll be alright."

She bristled instinctively. The raindrops somehow got even louder as they pelted the tin awning. "I'm serious, Lockwood."

"So am I."

"Then come inside before you catch something awful."

"I'll come inside when I want to."

The torrential downpour continued unabated, viciously attacking their home's exterior. The rapping of the raindrops against the tin rung in her ears like anger.

"Why must you be so stubborn?"

He finally looked up to meet her eyes, his own filled with a despair she had rarely seen. "I want to be alone."

It was the night of the big case that Lockwood & Co. had been preparing for for a week now, but two of its three members had come down with the most awful stomach bug she had seen. Apparently, there was something off with Arif's doughnuts that day, and now Lucy and George were down with food poisoning. She was in her room, listening to Lockwood wear down the floorboards outside her room with all his pacing. Finally, he stopped in front of her door, and after a moment, gave a short knock.

"Come in."

He opened the door to reveal a fully decked-out Lockwood extensively decorated with flares and lavender. She raised her eyebrows.

"Wow. That is...wow."

"George and Lucy are down with food poisoning," he began impatiently, "and I could really use an extra pair of eyes." He softened his stance at the critical look in her eye, taking on a more apologetic demeanour. "...please."

"But I don't even know how to use a rapier."

"Not much room for one, anyway. It's a two-room cottage."

She toyed with the idea of saying no. The idea of watching the hope in his eyes flicker out, of watching him go do the job...alone...without anyone's help...without anyone to help him if he got injured, or worse-

"Fine. I'll meet you downstairs in two minutes."

The cab was waiting for them by the time she was hurrying down the stairs, and she flipped through the summarised research report on the way there. She winced at the circled deduction that the Visitor was likely a Fetch, which Lockwood picked up on.

"Is something wrong?"

"...no." With some difficulty, she tore her eyes away from the report and closed the file. In all her years of experience, Fetches were the one Visitor that she still struggled with. It didn't help that her encounters with them had been few and far between. She glanced at Lockwood, who was staring out the window coolly as if barely nonplussed by the anticipation of coming face-to-face with one of the most dangerous Visitor types.

The taxi driver was quite a bit intimidated by Lockwood's superfluous attire, and so refused to go any further than the foot of the hill at the top of which the cottage was located. As they lugged their equipment up the hill, she felt her frustration towards Lockwood swell and swell until it finally reached a breaking point. She dropped the duffel bag she was carrying with a clatter, making Lockwood stop and turn around to face her.

"What's wrong?"

"Why have you been so off lately?"

His features hardened and his jaw set like it had so many times before. "It's nothing."

"It's not nothing. Obviously."

He stared at her hard, before dropping his own duffel bag. The tension over the past two weeks had clearly come to a head and it was happening right there on the hill in near-darkness. "I thought we were a team."

"We are."

"Well, it sure as hell doesn't feel like it."

"I just want to be independent."

"No, you don’t. You want to be alone."

“That's not true!” She hesitated. "That's not fair." At that moment, she felt so terribly small and insignificant, in a way she hadn't felt since having a particularly cruel supervisor in her first year of being an agent. Her eyes prickled unpleasantly, and she was suddenly engulfed with memories about that January shower. Oh, no, she thought. He was never going to hold her like that again. 

She shook her head as if trying to shake some sense into herself. "I don't...I don't want to be a burden. I can do this on my own."

"You want to do this on your own."

"How could you possibly think that?"

“All I see is someone too scared to stick their neck out for something real for once in their life."

“What's that supposed to mean?"

"I don't think you know what you're running from!"

She looked around in despair as if searching for some way to make him understand. "I'm not running from anything."

He stepped closer to her, and it was all she could manage to not burst into tears with his face twisted something ugly with hurt.

"You're running from me."

I'm not, she wants to say, but the words get caught in her throat. The silence rings out harshly between the two of them until Lockwood picks up his bag and resumes the trek uphill. After a moment or two, she follows him.

When they reach inside, they go through the motions of setting up their chains and investigating the areas of the Visitor's appearance, the way they've done hundreds of times before. Eventually, they split up and pace their corresponding rooms, the malaise growing stronger in the air by the minute.

After an hour or so, she felt it. A prickling in the hairs at the back of her neck. Waves of nausea washed over her and she felt paralysed by fear. She knew that when she turned, she'd be faced with something too terrible to comprehend. But she's too weak to brave seeing something so terrible, and so she doesn't turn. At that moment, she unravelled, and covered her eyes with her hands like a child, gasping with sobs that she struggled to suppress.

Suddenly, the cold breathing down her neck was replaced by intense heat as the hiss of a flare eating through a Visitor filled her ears. She felt rough hands desperately clutching her wrists and peeked through her fingers to meet Lockwood's panic-stricken gaze. Panic-stricken over her. His eyes shifted to the Visitor behind her and lobbed another flare at it in the nick of time. 

She started creeping along the walls, running her hands over every nook and cranny until she came across a picture frame radiating strong feelings of anxiety. She scrambled for the iron still folded in her pocket and threw it over the frame. The Visitor instantly evaporated, leaving Lockwood staring at the corner it had just been occupying with a haunted look in his eyes. When he had regained proper control of his senses, he turned to her.

"I didn't know-"

"I thought I'd be able to manage it, okay?" She avoided his gaze. "I'm sorry. Can we just go h- go back now?"

The ride back was somehow even quieter than the ride there, both of them burdened by thoughts that would clearly never see the light of day. He paused at the hat stand near the front door while she shrugged her coat off.

"Y/N-"

"I think I'll go to bed now. Goodnight, Lockwood."

She cut past him brusquely, heading straight for her room, though it would be many hours before the buzzing in her head quieted enough for her to fall asleep. As she got undressed, her mind drifted back to when Lockwood was standing right in front of her, holding her wrists with a long-forgotten gentleness, and the close shave with the Fetch. Too close of a shave. Tonight could never happen again. She had to make sure of it.

Over the next few days, their relationship returned to being suspiciously amicable. Perhaps it wasn't as glaringly obvious to the others with the distraction of their stomach bug, but George's squint at her when she handed him a glass of water was enough to see that he was onto them.

She had been in the basement polishing their iron chains when Lockwood knocked on the door. She put the chains down for a moment as he pulled out a minimalistic envelope.

"This just came for you in the mail."

It had the address of one of the agencies she had applied to written on it. She nervously ripped it open and started scanning the contents before she remembered where she was. She looked at Lockwood, who had a cool expression of polite curiosity.

"So? Did you get it?"

"They want me to start next week." Lockwood's lips curved into a half-smile, and it was the first smile he'd given her in weeks that reached his eyes.

"That's...that's amazing. You deserve it. That is, if you're going to accept it."

"It's a rather decent offer. Think it would be quite a shame to pass it up. Don't you?"

He gave a slight pause. "Of course. Yes."

"...but?"

He shook his head and gave a short laugh. "It's...it's silly." He was staring at a patch of grease on the floor which he was very focused on rubbing out with his shoe. "I've known you for...for as long as Lockwood & Co.'s been around." He looked up from the floor to meet her gaze, his eyes open and honest. 

"I don't know if I can do this without you."

She looks into his flighty brown eyes and drinks in as much as she can of him. Next week, she'll be in a different town, at a new job, meeting new people until he becomes just a distant memory, some dream she had once upon a time, and she'd be freed from her shackles of longing. But now, in his eyes she sees the two of them spinning round and round, forever together in a January shower in some universe.

"I should start packing."

Her goodbyes were fairly uneventful. They exchanged promises to write, to keep in touch. Lucy and George waved her off from their front door. Lockwood didn't come down from his room. Now she was in her new home, miles away from any feelings that may have tethered her from Portland Row, and all that was left to do was sit and wait and try to forget.

Except. Except.

Here she was, lying on her bed with an all too familiar weight on her chest. Those feelings she had promised to bury with the winter daffodils were here - travelled miles to plague her mind with restless thoughts of which nothing could ever come. How was it that all this distance only made her crave Lockwood even more? He stained her mind and hung from her lips like a broken promise, like an unheard prayer. It was there when she woke up, it was there when she went to sleep, it laid next to her and embraced her like a lover till she couldn't breathe.

Three months later, she still hasn't moved on and has almost entirely given up on any hope for sleep. She replays her memories of him like a tired VCR, and every night the image grows fainter and fainter. What, exactly, did his voice sound like? Did he have dimples? He had a scar on his collarbone, she was fairly sure. But how did he get it? She waits for the sky to light up for those few short hours after her work for the day, but be it day or night, the sadness remains.

For years she had been so strong, so tough, so ready to do anything and to do it alone. Too independent to even work properly with his agency. But after meeting Lockwood, it all felt like a farce, like she had just been pretending and hoping and closing her eyes through as many horrors as she could handle until she finally reached her breaking point. Something had snapped in her soul - some ill-gotten desire to fasten herself to him from the moment she had kissed him after Winkman's. To have him be her home.

Even so, she still had a job to do, so she carried these feelings around with her. There was this one particular case where her team was tasked by the city council to clear out an old, abandoned mansion of any Visitors. She had been creeping through the third floor when she saw him standing there, in the shard of moonlight peeking through the rafters. Lockwood was standing mere feet in front of her, sleeves rolled up to his elbows without his coat, whole and uninjured.

"Lockwood!" She closed the distance between them. "What are you doing here?"

He turned to face her, smiling mildly as if she had done nothing more than greet her. Y/N, he was saying. His voice reverberated differently than what she was used to, but she put it down to the weird acoustics of the mansion. 

Why did you leave me?

"...what?"

Why did you go away? You've made me sick with worry.

"I...I have?"

Day in, day out, you're all I think about.

"No...no, that can't be right. That's me, not you."

Are you sure? Think harder. What do you remember about me?

"I don't know, I don't know. Why are you doing this, Lockwood?" Something was very, very wrong. What was he of all people doing here, and why weren't his lips moving when he talked?

How can you be so in love with me if you can't even remember me?

I do! I do remember you! Please don't say I don't.

Why'd you leave me, Y/N?

"Wha...what? I didn't - no - I didn't mean to leave you-"

I wanted you to stay.

"Then you should have TOLD ME!"

But I did tell you.

It still hadn't fully clicked in her brain, but she gleaned enough to tell that this wasn't Lockwood. Some obscene bastardisation of him, perhaps, but nothing of any real substance. She walked back a few steps, keeping her eyes trained on him, and against her better judgement threw a flare at him. It hit the centre of his chest, which began to fizzle up and corrode away at the figment until there was nothing left but the dying embers reflected in her misty eyes. He had looked...so solid. So real. Real enough for her to believe. Oh god, how badly she wanted to believe.

That night, she had barely pulled off much of her excess gear before slumping into bed, which she did not leave for the next three days. Obviously, that hadn't been Lockwood, it was a Fetch. But it only had her memories to work off of. What was it that had happened that made her feel like he had told her to stay? She drove herself mad picking apart every interaction she had had with him since she was 13. What did she miss? Where was the mistake?

Maybe she was just hoping for a mistake.

I miss you. I wish you were here - not miles away in London, here, beside me. I wish it was you lodged in my chest instead of this acrid longing. I'm the one who can't do this without you. Please come back to me. I'm so tired of being strong. Please come save me. I need you here. I wish you were here. I wish you were here. I wish you were here.

TAGLIST: @mitskiswift99 @dangelnleif @elenianag080 @snoopyluver20 @ell0ra-br3kk3r @avdiobliss @ahead-fullofdreams @neewtmas @mischivana @houseoftwistedspirits

P.S. until I changed my mind at the very last minute this WAS going to have a happy ending I wrote it out and everything but then deleted and Grammarly won't let me ctrl z my way out of this :(((

[wayfayrr]

woooO!!!! congrats on 100 followers!! I've had this idea of the links reacting to the reader who rode a motorcycle, like street racing, or trick riding! like in a modern time, they find a bike under a tarp or smthn and ask them about it, and they offer to show them, and turns out they did trick riding/ street racing/etc. [with a helmet and leather jacket ofc, safety first!!] [idk really, i just like the idea and its been stewing lol]

Thank you anon!!! 💖💖 I can see why this idea was stuck in your head, the idea of reader having a bike is ✨✨ and I hope I've done it justice! I also focused this with two if you don't mind, If you wanted a different member of the chain feel free to ask!!

"[NAME]! [NAME] I THINK I BROKE SOMETHING!"

"TWI!? JUST STAY WHERE YOU ARE FOR A MOMENT I'M COMING OVER TO YOU."

Twilight calling out like that? Wild I would expect, Wind or Hyrule I would understand, but Twilight? I just hope he's alright, is it even safe if he'd have to go to the hospital? Would he need a vet instead?

Because I do not want to find out the answer to that if I can help it. It's a very quick decision to drop what I'm doing to go and check on him, from... it sounded like the garage?

"Twi? Are you alright, what's - oh you haven't broken anything, that's good you're okay."

No injuries, good, fine I can work with that and he looks like a kicked puppy for some reason. Why does he look like I'm about to shout at him..? Is that my helmet? 

"I'm so sorry darlin' this thing got caught on me and I a part of it fell to the floor and I…"

"It's fine, you haven't broken anything. They're separate things I keep stacked together, there's no issue. If anything with how you were shouting I thought you were injured Link, you had me really worried."

A flustered Twilight isn't something I've gotten to see often, but it's a very addictive sight seeing someone as tough as him crumble like this over something so small. My bike's fine, the tarp's only torn a tiny bit and my helmet, well there's nothing that could scratch that any more than it's already been scratched. I wonder if I could push his fluster any further, maybe if I…

“Hey Twi, you know I promised to take you to a coffee shop at some point? So I can prove to you it’s not broken, want to ride with me?”

That did it, he’s redder than I’ve ever seen him ever and I think I can still push him further. Taking my jacket off of the hook, tossing it on then handing Twi my spare set with a wink.

“Come on pretty boy, let me treat you?”

Oh? That is cute, it seems the wolf’s lost his ability to speak as he follows my lead by putting on the gear I’ve lent to him. I’m just glad I keep some spares at all times, for when things like this come up it can be a lifesaver. Walking the bike outside with him trailing behind me with lovestruck eyes before I gesture to him to come closer. Gently guiding him to sit behind me on the bike then coaxing his arms around my waist with very little complaint from him only to start up the motor. 

It’s been a while since I’ve felt the freedom of riding like this, I think Twilight is enjoying it as well which is the main thing. Pushing my bike more from his unspoken joy, it’s like I’m back to racing again and with that thrill-seeking side winning out I push us further still hitting about a hundred now, likely faster than he’s ever moved before.

And then we’ve already arrived. Clearly he doesn’t seem ready to let go of me, the way his arms have tightened again is a good enough show of that.

“You can hold me more later Twi, don’t you want to go in then I can explain more?” 

“Alright, darlin’.”

It took a moment for him to find something on the menu that he liked the sound of and was safe for him, while I just ordered my usual but after that, we’re free to just talk for a while, although even after all of that his blush still hasn’t died down the smallest amount. 

“So I’m guessing you’re curious about my bike? I used to spend a lot of my spare time racing so it’s a very high-quality one.”

“It’s that important to you but you’re willin to let me ride it?”

“I mean, of course. There’s no fun in riding alone, and I trust you.”

I think that last sentence might have broken him, he’s a blushing mess mumbling about how good I look and how impressed he is. He’s sweet. Although now it might take a while for me to be able to talk to him again.