#heed the ao3 tags and notes etc

[starryeyedjanai]

surface-level freak

kinktober prompts: teratophilia, rimming, prostitution (3 for 3 today!) explicit | 7k tags: werewolf eddie, transmasc human steve, full shift werewolf sex, vaginal and anal sex, creampie, come eating, somnophilia, little bit of spit kink and crying notes: full tags and cw are on ao3, but the gist is steve gets fucked by eddie while eddie is a fully shifted werewolf

read on AO3

This isn't exactly where Steve thought he'd end up in life, but he's absolutely not complaining.

What started as a desperate need for money after being disowned has turned into something he thinks he'd do for the rest of his life if he can.

The first time he gave a, probably subpar, blowjob in exchange for cash, he'd been scared out of his mind, dropping to his knees and trying to remember what Tommy liked the few times they had fooled around.

The first time he had a werewolf client, he didn't know that it would become his niche, his specialty, but it did. He took his first knot and took it well, and got paid handsomely for it.

That guy had friends, other werewolves who were lonely and yearning for someone to sit pretty on their knot, and a lot of them had the money to pay for it.

And so started his career.

Steve Harrington, Werewolf Fucker.

He thinks he should be able to put that on his business card, but Robin says it's a little crass.

He's on his way to meet a new client for the first time - a famous client, if his connection is telling the truth.

He's only a tiny bit wary, phone in his hand poised and ready to hit his proverbial panic button should he need it. Not that he thinks one of his clients would lie, necessarily, but when he said he had a famous werewolf that might be interested, Steve was imagining some commercial model or something, not Eddie Fucking Munson from Corroded Coffin.

He gets to the cafe and finds it eerily empty when he steps inside. It's nine in the morning on a Tuesday - people should be standing in line waiting to get their coffee. Which tells him this is the real deal.

Eddie Munson meeting him in a crowded cafe seemed like an odd choice when he texted him that they needed to meet somewhere in public first.

There's one table occupied when he scans the room and he marches over to it.

"You know, part of the reason for meeting in public is so that I'm not alone with a new client I don't know," he says, sitting down across from Eddie.

Eddie pushes his sunglasses up and back, pulling his hair out of his face.

"I couldn't really meet you here without having the place empty," he says with a grimace. "My fans are great, but I didn't exactly want to be talking with you while also trying to sign autographs."

Steve can appreciate that, he guesses. Still.

"You should have told me." He doesn't like not having the upper hand, especially with new people.

"Sorry," Eddie says sheepishly. "If it helps, my guy and your friend are standing right by the door."

Steve looks back and sees Robin and the tallest guy he's ever seen standing in front of the entrance. Robin waves when they lock eyes. Steve waves back, letting her know it's all good.

"Okay, fine. Apology accepted. Robin told you my rates. What were you thinking?" he asks, getting to business.

Eddie looks at him seriously and says, "Knotting, of course."

"Of course." People didn't come to him and pay his rates for nothing - knotting is par for the course.

"I was thinking the 17th. I leave for tour on the 19th, but I have no time between now and then to spend a whole night with you."

The whole night, Steve thinks. God, he's in for a treat. Most of his clients have him for a few hours, long enough to fuck him and knot him, sometimes long enough to spend a while cuddling after, but a whole night is going to absolutely fuck him up. He'll have to tell Robin not to schedule anything the few days after that.

When Steve doesn't say anything, Eddie continues. "And since it's the whole night, I want both of your holes." Steve tries to suppress the shiver that makes its way through his body at the sound of Eddie's voice. "I'll want to rim you, get you ready for me. And I'll probably want to eat you out after I come in you."

"That all sounds good. If you knot me twice in a row, I might fall asleep on you though," Steve says, intimately familiar with how his body responds to being rigorously fucked and knotted.

"Would you be okay with me eating my come out of you while you slept?" Eddie asks and Steve visibly shivers, unable to stop it this time.

"Yeah, that would be okay," he says, almost breathlessly.

It's not that he doesn't normally love his job, but the prospect of spending the full night with Eddie, getting fucked into oblivion over and over and then having Eddie eat his come out of him when he's not even awake to enjoy it has him shifting in his seat, his underwear sticking wet against him.

"Oh," Eddie says like he just remembered something. "I didn't see anything in the rate sheet about full shift sex. Is that off the table?"

He's caught off guard again, it seems. No one has ever asked for that.

He doesn't come by full shift werewolves often, but the ones that he has have all fucked him half-shifted like the rest of them, just claws and fangs and extra hair and their knot. Some of them have curled around him after fully shifted, taking comfort in him for a while, but none of them have asked to fuck him while shifted. He didn't even really consider that it was an option.

Steve's nothing if not good at thinking on his feet, though. He says, "It's a special request, so you'll have to work out the details with Robin, but it's definitely something that we can do."

"I'll talk to Robin then," Eddie says, licking his lips and looking him over. Steve's never felt more like a piece of meat and god if he isn't into it.

*

Once the payment details have been worked out between Eddie and Robin later via email - after Robin screeches at him and Steve reassures her that, yes, it is possible and safe - Steve sees Eddie's name pop up on his calendar and tries not to spend too much time freaking out about it.

He's not nervous, exactly. There's always the jitters he gets when he's fucking a new client for the first time because what if they see his body and don't like it, what if they thought he's a major asshole, what if it's the most awkward night of his life, what if, what if, what if?

He's feeling all that plus the apprehension of doing something he's never done before. He does a lot of research in the week leading up to it, subscribes to the OnlyFans of a lovely werewolf and human couple who do full shift knotting and make it look easy as anything.

Watching someone smaller than him take a knot bigger than his fist helps settle some of his nerves about feasibility. And he's taken knotting dildos that expand larger than some of the half-shifted weres' knots he's taken. He feels better about his ability to take it when he digs out his largest knotting dildo and spends a night devolving into an incoherent mess as he comes over and over from the stimulation of the knot pressing on his g-spot.

When the night comes, he gets himself ready to the best of his ability. He fingers his ass open in the shower thoroughly since Eddie requested that he not use lube before coming over and then slips a plug inside that's coated in the slick from his cunt.

Because he's been dripping slick in anticipation for days now. Thinking about it even remotely has him wet and open and aching about it, craving something inside him.

He gets a Lyft over to Eddie's place, or a place that Eddie's rented for the night - he's not sure.

When he steps inside the apartment building and is led to the elevator by the same comically tall man from before, he puts his game face on. Tonight is definitely going to be interesting, if nothing else.

Eddie opens the door to his apartment and ushers Steve inside. "Good to see you," he says, voice nervous, like he wasn't sure Steve was going to show.

"Good to see you too," Steve says, and it's not a lie. He's excited and nervous and horny and he's sure Eddie can smell all of that on him.

Eddie looks good. Steve takes a good look at him while he's grabbing some water bottles to bring to the bedroom.

He's not as put together as he was at the cafe. He's wearing a well worn shirt and soft looking sweatpants. He's barefoot and casual and this whole look is really doing something for Steve.

That, or the fact that he's about to get dicked down within an inch of his life. He's so fucking ready for this.

Eddie leads him to the bedroom, not really making small talk, which is much more pleasant than if he were. Robin always gives new clients the run down, but some guys don't really understand that he isn't there to be anything but a good fuck. He doesn't want to be anything else or for anyone to get any wires crossed. He knows he owes them a part of himself, but there are parts of himself that he doesn't share and doesn't care to know about in return.

And especially with someone new - Steve doesn't know him, so he doesn't really care how his week went other than if he was thinking of Steve. He isn't interested in hearing anything that's not related to him getting fucked right now, because it's the first time, because he doesn't have that kind of relationship with his clients - the ones who try to know more about him or get him to participate in knowing more about them quickly learn his boundaries.

"You can, uh, take your clothes off if you want," Eddie says as he closes the door behind them and Steve grins.

He's used to people wanting to get right down to business so he doesn't bother with elaborate outfits or lingerie unless requested. They both know what they're here for.

He strips down quickly and efficiently under Eddie's watchful eye, folding his clothes as he goes, placing them on the dresser he's standing by.

He lets Eddie look his fill, lets him drag his eyes up and down his body, as he walks towards him.

When he gets close enough, Eddie puts his hand on his hip and Steve shivers from the condensation left there by the water bottle he just set down on the nightstand.

"You're beautiful," he says, leaning in to press his mouth to Steve's neck, his lips right below his pulse point. He kisses down Steve's neck, his other hand coming up to grip the curve of his ass possessively.

Steve's cunt clenches reflexively at the gesture. Part of what does it for him, through all of this, is the feeling of being owned, feeling like he's owned and wanted, desired.

Eddie's fingers delve between his cheeks, looking to pet over his asshole, and he makes a surprised noise against Steve's throat when he feels the plug.

"I don't smell any lube on you," Eddie says, pulling back to look at him as he tugs at the plug lightly, too light to pull it out, but enough for Steve to feel the stretch of it wanting to slip out.

He shivers and says, "I didn't use any at your request. Not any that my body didn't create at least. And it's not a big plug, but I don't know how big your knot is and I wanted to prepare myself at least a little."

He's nervous he messed up or did something Eddie didn't like, but he was told to specify what he wanted beforehand and he didn't say Steve couldn't, so...

Luckily, Eddie just grins at him and tugs him closer so he's nearly pressed flush against him. He slips his fingers further between Steve's legs and says, "I think I want this hole first," petting over his cunt. "And I said I'd rim you before I fucked your ass to get you ready. I was thinking about doing that full shift if you're okay with it."

Steve can't help the way his entire body buzzes at the thought. "That's- yeah. Yes," he says intelligently.

Eddie's mouth twitches up like he's amused, but the hand on Steve's hip comes up to cup his neck and pull him into a kiss, so he can't be too mad about it.

Eddie kisses him deeply right from the jump - tongue pressing inside his mouth immediately, heads tilting so they can both lick deeper. Steve rests a hand on Eddie's shoulder, his other hand pressing against the front of Eddie sweatpants which have tented up.

Eddie pulls the hand from between his legs back a little to play with the plug again. He holds the base and presses the little button there, starting up the low hum of vibrations that makes Steve moan softly into his mouth.

At the sound of Steve's moan, Eddie pulls away from the kiss with a slick noise. He says, "Get on the bed. On your back," and steps back, his hands falling away from Steve's body.

Steve gets on the bed. He lays back and spreads his legs, his right hand settling between his thighs, stroking his thumb over his dick slowly.

He watches as Eddie gets undressed, just strips his shirt off and pushes his sweatpants down and off to show off his body.

He's not shifted at all yet so he doesn't have much body hair other than a light dusting of hair on his arms and legs and a thick thatch of hair above his frankly gorgeous dick.

His dick is thick - not the longest he's ever seen, but he's got girth and Steve's cunt clenches at the thought of how much bigger it's going to get when he shifts. Even half-shifted, he'll be bigger, stretching out whatever hole he wants to fill. When he's fully shifted-

He doesn't even know how he's going to manage not immediately coming all over his dick as soon as it gets inside him.

He didn't get into this particular line of work because he was anything other than a size queen. He knows this about himself and he luckily has the clientele to make sure that he never has to go without being filled again.

Eddie climbs onto the bed with him after grabbing a bottle of lube.

It's not a brand he's familiar with and when Eddie sees him looking, he says, "It's a brand made 'by weres for weres', kind of thing. Regular lube, even unscented, has a weirdly strong scent."

Steve hums. "I'll have to look into that," he says, trying to make a mental note to get the name of the brand before he leaves tomorrow.

He gets between Steve's thighs and tosses the lube up near the pillows next to the one Steve is resting his head on.

He leans down and presses his mouth to Steve's throat again, breathing in his scent briefly. There's a rumbling noise low in his chest as he does, not quite a growl, but Steve knows he likes what he smells. He probably wouldn't be here right now if Eddie didn't like how he smelled.

"Wanna put my mouth on you," Eddie says, lips dragging along his collarbone.

Steve nods eagerly. "You can. I want you to."

Eddie kisses down his chest and Steve feels the moment Eddie starts to shift, his teeth becoming sharper as he nips at his hip bones, his nails becoming claws as his hands push his thighs open wider.

He looks down and groans at the sight. Where Eddie's body was sparsely covered with hair before is now covered in it. His chest, his thighs, his arms, probably his back too - all covered in thick hair.

With his legs spread wide, thighs pressed into the sheets, he knows Eddie can see how wet he is, can smell it too - not just his slick, but his arousal. He feels like he's choking on it and he doesn't have the same senses as a wolf, so he can't imagine how thick the smell of his arousal must be right now.

The plug is still vibrating inside him, but it's not big enough and the vibration isn't strong enough to really be doing much for him.

Without much fanfare, Eddie dips his head and laps at the wetness between Steve's thighs, pulling another groan from deep within him. Steve reaches up to grab the pillow underneath his head so that he has something to hold onto as Eddie licks from his cunt to his dick and back again, one hand reaching down to play with his plug.

He presses the button on the plug again to turn up the vibration. At the same time, he presses his tongue inside him, and it's not the same for all werewolves, but Eddie's tongue when he's half-shifted is longer than a normal human tongue.

He presses it inside and Steve's thighs shake, another wave of slick dripping out of him when Eddie pulls back.

Eddie gets his mouth on Steve's cock and he knows he doesn't stand a chance. His fists grab harder onto the pillow and he bucks his hips up into Eddie's mouth.

Eddie wraps his hands around Steve's waist and hauls him up, letting him hook a thigh over his shoulder for leverage as he fucks up against his mouth.

He sticks his long tongue out and lets Steve grind up against it, the sight of it driving him fucking insane.

He hitches his hips up, grinding against his tongue and his eyes nearly roll back when he feels the tip of Eddie's tongue teasing at his slick hole at the same time.

One hand comes down to fist into Eddie's hair, holding him there as he comes, feeling like he's going to shake out of his body. He grinds his dick on Eddie's tongue as he pulses through his orgasm, crying out as he does.

When he sinks back into the bed, breath shaky and feeling like he's going to melt into a puddle, Eddie nuzzles his face into the crease of his thigh. Steve runs his hand down over Eddie's hair, smoothing it down where he tugged it up earlier.

Eddie presses the button on the plug again, holds down for a few seconds, until it turns off, and then he dips his tongue back inside Steve's dripping hole.

Steve sighs and lets Eddie attempt to lick him clean.

When he's had his fill of sucking the slick from Steve's cunt, Eddie puts his mouth on Steve's thigh, his canines digging in as he sucks hard on the skin, marking the skin there.

He makes his way back up Steve's body when he's done making his mark on his thigh.

"Can I fuck you?" Eddie asks like the idiot he is.

"If you don't get inside me right now, I'm gonna strap you to this bed, sit on your cock until sunrise, and not let you come once," Steve says like the cock-hungry whore he is.

Eddie grins at him, baring his teeth, his canines glinting in the warm light of the bedroom. He lines his cock up and presses inside, the slide made so fucking easy from the amount of slick Steve's dripping. He's sopping wet and they both hear the loud, slick sound of Eddie's cock fucking into his core.

Eddie scoops up Steve's legs, his knees falling into the crook of Eddie's elbows as he leans down to kiss him. He fucks in deep until he's buried inside him, his hips cradled between Steve's thighs.

He starts up a slow rhythm, as slow as the kisses he presses to Steve's mouth, and it's not enough. The hair of the scruff on his face that wasn't there before is a delicious burn against the skin around his mouth, but Steve wants more. He wants to feel that burn everywhere, wants Eddie to leave him covered in beard burn, his skin raw and red from it.

The thought of that spurs him to try and get some leverage to fuck himself on Eddie's cock. Steve doesn't have that much leverage with his hips splayed out like this, but he wraps his arm around Eddie's shoulders and tries to roll his hips up anyway.

He kisses Eddie, trying to deepen the chaste kisses he presses on his mouth, but Eddie apparently wants to take his time right now.

He lets his fingertips dig into Eddie's shoulder and clenches around him, but lets him take his time getting into it.

After a minute, Eddie pries his mouth open with his tongue and presses it inside Steve's mouth. Steve groans as Eddie fucks his tongue into his mouth, nearly hitting the back of his throat and Steve is done waiting. They can take it slow in the morning if that's something Eddie wants, but Steve wants to be fucked into the mattress now.

Steve doesn't know if Eddie's taking it slow because he's afraid of losing control or if he's afraid of hurting him or something else, but either way, he begrudgingly pulls away from Eddie's mouth to say, "Remember what I said about tying you to the bed? Fuck. Me. Or I'll find someone else to do it."

Eddie sits up a little and looks down at him, like he's deciding if he's serious - he's not, of course. Eddie paid for this time and he'll gladly suffer through the slowest, most vanilla, missionary fucking of his life if that's what Eddie wants. But Steve doesn't think it is, is the thing. He thinks Eddie wants to get rough with him, wants to drag his body closer like he's a fucking ragdoll and use him, and that's why Steve's pushing so much.

"You're kind of bossy for someone who's paid to lay there and take it," Eddie says - calling him out on it - his mouth pulled up into a grin, softening the words. He rolls his hips gently, his cock dragging against Steve's hole deliciously.

"I think you're afraid to hurt me, maybe. And I'm going to remind you that I do do this for a living, so I can take it. I like it, even. And I want you to stop being so gentle if that's not what you want. I want you to press me into this mattress and fucking knot me already," he says, watching Eddie's darken at his words.

Eddie's grin slides into a smirk and his tongue slides along his left canine. He says, "I was trying to ease you into it, but if you're sure."

He raises an eyebrow at him and Steve fights the urge to say something bitchy about how he's already told him what he wants.

"I'm sure," he says instead.

Eddie lowers his body on top of him, pressing his cock all the way inside again. He leans in and takes a deep breath of Steve's scent right at the nape of his neck where it's the most potent. His entire body seems to twitch as he presses his nose into his neck and scents him.

And then it's like a switch has been flipped. Because Eddie's hands come to rest on Steve's hips and press him into the sheets. Because Eddie spreads his knees and starts fucking into Steve like the animal he is - rutting into him in quick, harsh strokes, humping him really.

And this is what Steve was waiting for. He drops his head back and can't stop the whine that escapes his lips as Eddie's dick hits deep inside him.

The only reason he's not more embarrassed about the noises that can't seem to stop is because Eddie's whining too, making these whimpering little punched out sounds as he fucks into Steve's cunt roughly.

With Eddie whining into his ear and fucking into him deep, there's no way to stave off the orgasm that sneaks up on him. He's tensing up and shaking through it before he even realizes it's coming, digging his fingernails into Eddie's back and clenching around Eddie's cock.

Eddie groans at the feeling of Steve's cunt squeezing him tightly and he presses up onto his forearms, looking down at Steve.

"I'm gonna-" he says, a moan cutting him off.

"Do it," Steve says. "Knot me."

Eddie shudders, pressing his cock in deep again, and Steve can feel the way it expands, can feel the knot forming. He manages a few more shaky thrusts before the knot catches on Steve's hole and they both groan.

He pulls it out and bullies it back in and Steve's eyes roll back at the feeling of his hole being stretched out to let him back inside.

Eddie rocks his hips now that his knot is too big to pull back out. His knot is pressing right on Steve's g-spot with every movement of Eddie's hips and he knows he's going to come on his knot before it goes down.

He swears he can feel it the moment Eddie starts to come inside him, can feel the added warmth and wetness inside him and it makes his entire body burn.

He watches as Eddie shakes through it, biting his lip, but not being able to stop the groans tumbling from his mouth.

Eddie keeps rocking his hips, his knot hitting Steve just right and pulling on his hole and Steve's tensing up again, too soon, too soon, too soon. He gasps as he starts to come again.

His body goes taut as he squirts from the stimulation of Eddie's knot pressing on his g-spot relentlessly. He quakes as he barrels through another orgasm, barely able to catch his fucking breath.

Eddie groans as his muscles squeeze his knot, trying to milk the come from him.

The pleasure is blinding and all consuming and he thinks he whites out a little, floating and weightless for a minute before he comes back down.

He lays there catching his breath, sweaty, cunt aching from being knotted up, covered in his own squirt juice, and there's no better feeling than this.

Eddie's knot is still pressed tight against his g-spot, a constant point of white-hot pleasure that he can't shake and doesn't want to.

As they come down, Eddie sits up, the motion pulling Steve's hips into his lap. Steve groans at the way the knot pulls him along with Eddie's hand on his hips.

Eddie's kneeling back on his haunches, but he straightens up so that Steve's not laying in the wet spot he made. If he wasn't supporting Steve's body with his hands on his hips, he would be dangling from his knot and that thought makes Steve's eyes roll back, his cunt clenching almost painfully around the knot inside him as he moans and comes again.

"This is what you wanted, right? To be hanging off my knot?" Eddie asks, almost snarling down at him when Steve clenches around him again.

Steve nods his head and brings his hands up, one gripping Eddie's hand on his hip, the other coming up to stroke his belly where it's bulging slightly. It's going to be so much more pronounced when Eddie fucks his ass, when Eddie's fully shifted, and Steve can't help the way he shudders thinking about it.

Eddie licks his lips looking at the way Steve pets his stomach bulge. "Wish I could feel that from the inside too. Feel you petting the head of my cock through your stomach."

The words make Steve groan again and he slips his hand down to rub at his aching dick.

Eddie puts his hand on Steve's and pulls it away, sitting back on his haunches again and hauling Steve up so they're face to face again.

He presses his mouth to Steve's again, licking inside. Their tongues press together gently, a slow, sinking kiss that leaves him breathless.

Their tongues slide together for a good few minutes as they wait for Eddie's knot to go down.

Steve can feel when it's small enough to slip out of him because it feels like a rush of wetness drips out of him.

Eddie pulls away from the kiss and says, "I'm probably going to knot for a lot longer when I'm shifted."

"That's okay. I might fall asleep if you do," Steve says, knowing he's bound to come at least a few more times and he's already feeling the exhaustion start to creep in, his body feeling the strain of their fucking. In the quiet aftermath, with Eddie fully shifted and seeping warmth, he's probably going to fall right asleep.

"I'll clean you up if you do," Eddie says and Steve groans. He nuzzles into Steve's neck briefly, nipping at the skin there, before he moves them.

Eddie pulls him neatly off his cock and deposits him onto the bed, rolling him onto his stomach. The sheets are wet beneath him, but it doesn't make sense to move because he's just going to get them wet again when he squirts on Eddie's knot again.

He feels the ripple in the air from the subtle change in air pressure that means Eddie's fully shifted now.

Eddie drapes himself over Steve's body and Steve moans at the feeling of Eddie's hairy, hairy body covering him completely. He's bigger like this, taller and wider, and it's turning Steve's brain to goo thinking about how big his knot is going to feel inside his ass.

Eddie's voice is a low grumble when he speaks and Steve shivers about that too.

"Gonna get you ready now," he growls out and all Steve can do is spread his legs further when Eddie pulls his weight off him. "Take your plug out."

He'd almost forgotten it was there, holding his ass open, nowhere near as big as what's about to come. He grips the base of the plug and slides it out before tossing it on the nightstand.

He's damn near shivering in anticipation when Eddie presses Steve's hips down and spreads him out.

Eddie ducks his head and licks at the mess between his thighs, lapping at his cunt. The feeling is so much. His tongue feels rougher than before.

Steve's cunt is so wet, from Eddie's come and from the fresh slick that drips from him as Eddie's tongue delves into him. Steve can't stop the wails that come out of his mouth.

He's crying out, almost sobbing with it as Eddie continues to lick at his sensitive hole and then as he licks inside with his long tongue, longer than his human tongue, longer than his half shifted tongue.

He licks into his cunt until he's shaking and then he spreads Steve's cheeks. Steve looks back over his shoulder and lets out a weak moan as he watches as Eddie lets a mixture of his spit, his come, and Steve's slick dribble down onto his asshole.

The tip of his tongue presses inside his ass and Steve relaxes into it. Eddie presses more of his tongue inside, more of his come and spit lubing the way.

He fucks his ass like this for a couple minutes and it feels like Eddie is lazily doing this, taking his time and trying to build it up, but Steve is on a hair trigger, has been all night.

He gets a hand under him and rubs at his cock and that's it, he's coming again, cunt dripping onto the sheets beneath him.

Eddie keeps licking into his asshole as Steve shudders through his orgasm.

He must have grabbed the bottle of lube at some point because when he pulls away, Steve feels something slick, wet, and cold being dripped onto his hole.

He looks back and almost laughs at how small the lube bottle looks in Eddie's hand. He watches as Eddie squeezes the bottle and drips lube onto his cock and he groans.

Eddie's cock like this is fucking outrageous. It's long and thick and Steve knows it's going to stretch him out like nothing he's ever experienced before, putting any time he's said the phrase 'rearranging his guts' to shame.

Eddie pulls him up on his hands and knees and notches his cock against Steve's asshole and presses the head inside slowly.

Steve breathes through it - the head popping inside makes his cunt clench in sympathy. He wonders what it would feel like inside his cunt, pressing on places that probably haven't been touched before. He shivers thinking about it.

Eddie presses in a little bit more, drizzling more lube onto his hole. He pulls out and presses back inside and Steve feels like he can't get in enough air - it's so fucking big.

When he's fully seated inside him, Steve feels overheated.

And then Eddie starts to move.

If he was overwhelmed before, he doesn't know what he is right now. There's so much to focus on - the giant cock stretching him out, the feeling of Eddie draping himself over his back, the feeling of Eddie's arm hair under his hand when he reaches back to steady himself.

Eddie takes it so slow for a few minutes, rocking in and out gently as Steve's body gets used to the intrusion.

Steve lowers his chest to the bed so he isn't supporting his weight and lets Eddie drag him back onto his cock.

He groans at the feeling, getting a hand beneath him and on his dick again. He presses two fingers inside his cunt where he's soaking wet and lets the palm of his hand rock against his dick as Eddie picks up the pace.

It doesn't take longer than another minute to come, crying out embarrassingly loud as he grinds against his hand.

That seems to spur Eddie on and he fucks into Steve harder as Steve goes lax after he's done coming.

He doesn't know when he started crying, but the pillow beneath his head is wet with his tears and Eddie's bent over and licking at his neck and the side of his face like he's trying to soothe him.

He wants to feel Eddie's knot in him as badly he doesn't know what to do with himself.

He pushes back against him, the slapping sound of Eddie's hips hitting his growing louder.

Eddie fucks into him with deep strokes and Steve knows without looking or touching that his stomach is bulging out on every fucking thrust.

He's so deep inside him. It feels like every nerve in his body is on fire with the way he's lit up from the inside out.

His fingers are still tucked inside him and he curls them up, hiccuping wetly when he presses on his g-spot. He fucks his fingers in and out, trying to match the speed of Eddie's thrusts and as soon as he feels his knot starting to form, he's squirting all over the bed again.

The knot stretches at his rim and it's like he can't stop coming, clenching over and over and over as Eddie bullies his knot inside him.

His knot already felt like it was going to split him open earlier when he was only half-shifted and now it's pressing in and in again and shattering his whole world. Steve feels his eyes cross at the unrelenting pressure.

Eddie presses it in and it catches on Steve's rim, unable to come out again so easily, so Eddie just grinds his hips against Steve's as he chases his orgasm.

Steve comes again, gasping and crying as he feels the warmth of Eddie coming inside him. He's clenching both holes, milking Eddie's knot again and he can't stop shivering and sobbing.

They stay like that until Steve stops shivering, until it feels less like he's going to float out of his body.

Eddie moves them, his knot tugging at Steve's hole, making him hiss.

He drags them off of the wet spot and under the covers that were folded on the other side of the bed.

Steve kind of blinks back into reality with Eddie spooned up behind him, nuzzling his face into his throat.

"Drink some water, baby," Eddie says to him, his voice still a deep growl, so Steve hadn't missed him shifting back yet. He's still knotted inside him, so it makes sense, but Steve's brain isn't operating at 100% right now.

They've wound up closer to the bedside table than when they started so it's not a far stretch to reach over and grab a water bottle. He sucks down half the bottle, his dehydrated body needing it.

He passes the uncapped bottle back to Eddie and bites back a quip about him needing a water bowl. He's too tired to make it funny anyway - it would probably come out sounding a little mean and he doesn't want to be mean right now.

He just wants to be wrapped up and taken care of.

Eddie deposits the water bottle somewhere and drags Steve into his arms.

The entire room smells like sex, like both of them, and he can't even imagine what that must be like for Eddie with his heightened senses. Maybe that's why Eddie keeps burying his face in Steve's neck, overwhelmed by their mingling scents and the scent of their come in the air.

He's so sleepy - the warmth seeping from Eddie's body, the exhaustion of being fucked good, and the feeling of Eddie stroking his hand over Steve belly makes his eyes drift closed. He can feel himself falling asleep soon as he settles back into Eddie's embrace.

He drifts to sleep still knotted up tight.

*

He wakes up soon after falling asleep to Eddie's tongue inside his ass, his human-sized tongue licking deftly over him, eating the come from his hole. He gasps at the feeling, at the loud, wet noises coming from behind him.

He's on his stomach again, so reaches his hand back and fists it in Eddie's hair.

"Hi, gorgeous," Eddie says before going back to licking and sucking at his hole.

With Steve awake, Eddie fucks two fingers inside his cunt slowly, immediately curling them down to hit his g-spot.

Steve groans loudly. Eddie sloppily eating his ass and slowly, but expertly fingering his cunt is such a good way to wake up.

Eddie licks into him over and over, his fingers stroking over his g-spot, and when his other hand comes down to stroke at his cock, he doesn't stand a chance.

It's a slow building orgasm, but he quakes and whines through it all the same. Eddie keeps licking and fingering and stroking him through it, and after another couple of minutes, he's rolling through another one, this one edging on painful - the pleasure tipping over into pain as he jerks through it.

He pulls at Eddie's hair and says, "Enough," before dropping his hand onto the bed beside him.

Eddie pulls his fingers out and Steve can hear the way he sucks them into his mouth and if he wasn't literally aching, he'd want to go another round.

He manages to stay awake as Eddie hauls him up and into the bathroom to clean up. In the shower, Eddie presses him into the shower wall and kisses him as he soaps up his body.

They fall back into the bed with clean bodies and wet hair and Steve is asleep the minute his head hits the pillow.

*

He wakes up in the morning with Eddie's head between his thighs again, licking into his sore cunt. He's fucking insatiable.

Steve sighs and stretches his arms out, spreading his thighs a little.

He looks down at Eddie and finds him looking back up at him, tongue licking into him with little kitten licks.

"You're going to kill me," is what he says, voice rough with sleep.

Eddie pulls his wet mouth away and grins at him. He says, "Or ruin you."

Steve shivers. He already has. How the hell is he supposed to go back to knots that aren't from a fully shifted werewolf?

"Can I fuck you?" Eddie asks, crawling up his body.

Steve pulls him into a kiss, tasting his slick on Eddie's tongue. He reaches down and guides Eddie's cock into his sore cunt, sighing into Eddie's mouth.

Eddie fucks him gently, slowly grinding into him, trading kisses the entire time.

After a minute, Eddie puts his hands under Steve's back and rolls them over so that Steve is straddling Eddie's lap.

Their lips never leave each other's as Steve rocks down against him, getting a good angle so Eddie cock is dragging over his g-spot.

The kisses turn desperate as they both get closer, Steve reaching a hand down to rub at his dick.

He comes on Eddie's cock, gasping into his mouth as he clenches around him.

It only takes another handful of thrusts before Eddie's coming too - he grabs Steve by the hips and fucks up into him, faster than before, but still gentle.

Eddie groans into his mouth as he comes inside him and they both collapse back onto the bed.

Steve lifts himself off Eddie dick and shivers at the feeling of his come leaking out of him.

"I don't suppose you'd want to clean me up before I go?" Steve asks, leaning back and spreading his legs.

He tracks the way Eddie licks his lips looking at the come dripping out of him and grins. He's got his number, it seems.

When Eddie presses him back into the sheets and licks the come dripping from his cunt and Steve starts thinking of how he's going to secure seeing him again, he supposes Eddie has his number too.

[needtoloveoutloud]

Shadows Of Our Past, Present, and (possible) Future — Series

My Hero Academia — Female!OC Fanfiction on AO3

Part One (Completed — 93k words):

The one where Shota Aizawa stumbles upon a back alley full of stray cats and ends up adopting a child

“Fine, then a cat? We both know how much you love those little furry…things.” At this, Shota paused the game and turned to the pushy blonde next to him. “I actually have considered that.” “And?” “And: also, no. It makes no sense.” Hizashi looked almost scandalized. “Makes no sense?” “I made a pro and contra list.” “Of course you did.”

When underground hero Shota Aizawa, twenty-two years old, is out on patrol one Friday evening, he doesn't expect that a single meow from a cat would lead him to find a homeless girl called Yoru. From then on, Yoru and Shota grow up together, make mistakes together, and try to overcome every obstacle life throws at them.

>> Read on AO3 <<

Part Two (Ongoing, regular updates — growing long fic — 231k words so far — READ PART 1 FIRST, PLEASE AND THANK YOU):

The one where Yoru Aizawa tries to navigate through life at U.A.

Two days after her fifteenth birthday, Yoru decides to drop the bomb on him. “I want to go to U.A.” “You want to go to U.A.” Her Dad puts the book he's been reading down on the glass balcony table.  “Yes, I want to go to U.A.” She slumps down on the outdoor couch next to him, grabbing the discarded book. “What are you reading?” ‘A Book of Five Rings by Miyamoto Musashi — The classic guide to strategy ’. She raises an eyebrow. “Reading that for fun, huh?” “Why do you want to go to U.A.? You never cared much about heroes. Besides Edgeshot, that is.” Yoru smirks up at him. “What, jealous?” “As if.” “You know, even if they sold Eraserhead posters, I wouldn’t hang them up. It would be super weird.” “Good to know where your loyalties lie.” He rolls his eyes. “Back to the topic at hand, why do you want to go to U.A.? Because Shinso wants to go?” “No.” Pause. “Okay, that may be part of it. But I’m serious. I’ve been thinking about it for a while now, and I really want to go.” “That might be so, but you still neglected to tell me why you want to attend there.” Yoru plays with her hair, noting how it’s time for another hair cut when she finds some splint ends. “I wanna be a hero.” Her Dad blinks. “A hero?” “Yes. Well, I want to help people and do some good with that shitty quirk of mine.”

When Yoru tells her Dad that she wants to attend U.A., she expects it to be a difficult path. She didn't expect all the awkwardness, blossoming friendships, confusing feelings, and near-death experiences, though.

>> Read on AO3 <<

Please heed the warnings/tags (TWs in the author's notes of chapters where they apply to).

This story is a mix of:

Slice of life

Hurt/Comfort

Angst/Fluff

Humor

Dadzawa

SLOW BURN Romance — Enemies to Lovers (Bakugo x Yoru)

Growing up, coming of age (hopefully lol)

Teenage awkwardness

Mixed media (pictures, music, chat screenshots (later on in Part 2), etc. — chat screenshots will always have the written text below, to make it accessible for visually impaired folks or people who use screen readers)

Author: NoBecksPleaseNo on AO3

Please don't copy the work, the character, the premise, etc. Also, no cross-posting anywhere, please and thank you.

Disclaimer: Yoru's image is AI generated and then edited/adjusted by the author. The other character images in the header are from Pinterest (besides the one of Present Mic/Midnight, that one's from the light novels) — unfortunately without a source. If you're the artist, and you're not okay with me using them, please message me and I will remove them. If you're the artist and are okay with me using them, please tell me, so I can credit you.

Besides the OC characters, I don't own any already existing characters from the My Hero Academia Universe — that honor belongs to Kohei Horikoshi.

[dont-offend-the-bees]

Oh, Lonely Bones, Have You Forgotten? Chapter One

First DBDA multichapter, yay! let's hope I finish it 😅 Nah should be fine, I already know exactly what happens, just gotta get it on the page! The ending will be happy, but there WILL be angst along the way, please heed the tags/warnings!

WARNINGS: This fic references or directly addresses traumas from the characters' pasts. So that's of course bullying, abuse, homophobia, hate crimes, death etc. There's also a very, very brief reference to a possibly creepy teacher eyeing up Edwin (more on that in the end notes), but nothing comes of it, it's just part of the tapestry of his shitty school experiences. Death, loneliness, abandonment, touch starvation, along with morbid things like burials and bodies and bones are core themes of this fic. The ending will be happy eventually but we WILL have a sad ride to get there. So please be aware of that before reading.

I'd like to shout out my bestie kieren-fucking-walker/electricteatime for the absolutely banger headcanon about Charles sometimes manifesting his trauma by getting really cold/his breath misting. It's such a visually cool and emotionally rich idea and the show SHOULD have done it. Chapter one is 6.6k. Chapters 2/3 coming soon (hopefully). Also on Ao3 (need to be signed in to read)

~

“I don’t like this, mate,” Charles muttered.

“No,” Edwin agreed, gravely. “Nor do I.”

Frankly, taking this case was probably an unwise decision. The meagre payment offered by the sickly-looking ghost of the old groundskeeper would fall far, far short of the emotional cost of the expedition. And yet when Edwin had looked over to Charles and met his eyes, there had been no doubt, no hesitation. Perhaps it was the notion of unfinished business; that mysterious force that compelled ghosts to sites of personal trauma as sirens compelled sailors to the unforgiving rocks. Perhaps they were both mere gluttons for punishment.

Either way, they were here now. It was with heavy hearts and wary eyes that on the evening of June twenty-sixth, Edwin and Charles – along with Crystal – set foot once more on the grounds of St. Hilarion's School for Boys.

"So what are we looking for, exactly?" asked Crystal, ever practical. She'd been inordinately serious today, clear-headed and straightforward. Taking pains to rein in her more combustible tendencies. She'd also been casting worried glances at him and Charles all day. Edwin was trying to take the gesture in the spirit in which it was intended. Even if it did make him feel like a mad old maid, half-expected to succumb to hysterics at the drop of a hat.

"We've no way to know for sure," said Edwin. His eyes flickered to the imposing main doors, then upwards, scanning each storey window by window. It was well past lights out, but a single lamp glowed through from the third floor, east wing. The dorms. Most likely the night steward, on the listen for boys up and about and causing mischief. In Edwin's short and tragic experience, such staff were not the most effective of deterrents. Still, best avoided. They didn't want to call attention to themselves.

He flipped to his notes from their client interview. "The groundskeeper reported a low, continuous droning sound, along with unease, malaise, and a sense of being... 'called' to."

"Any words? Phrases?" asked Charles. He was bouncing on the balls of his feet like a boxer. His tension was audible as well as visible – Edwin could hear the subtle clenching of his jaw where it clipped his words. "No spooky voices whispering 'come to the cellar?'"

"No, nothing so helpful as that, I'm afraid."

"So what's the plan?"

"We begin searching for causes or disturbances in a methodical fashion," said Edwin, putting his notebook away. "I suggest we leave bedrooms and dormitories for last, to minimise the risk of interruptions. Crystal, you'd best wait outside until we call you. If anyone wakes you're more likely to be seen; not to mention liable to stand out. This is a boys' school, after all."

Crystal looked unhappy about it, but for once didn't rush to argue his logic. "I don't know. Are you guys gonna be... you know...?"

"We'll be fine, Crys," said Charles, giving her a strained smile and a pat on the shoulder. "Got each other, don't we?"

"Yeah – in the place you both got killed," she said. "You really shouldn't be back here."

Edwin rather agreed with her. And yet, undeniably, he still felt that strange, morbid draw that had coaxed him into accepting the case. There was a mystery afoot, and he and Charles would answer the call. "We'll be quite alright, I'm sure. With any luck, this will be a flying visit. Back in two shakes of a lamb's tail. Charles, have you the torches?"

"Yeah, just a tick." Charles crouched down and riffled through his backpack, disappearing up to the shoulder in its daunting expanse. "Better be careful with them, eh? Try not to flash 'em about too much, make anyone come looking."

"Agreed. For empty rooms only – we'll switch them off at the first sign of footsteps."

"Here we go." Charles handed the two stout electric torches up to Edwin. "Oh! Got something else, too." He dove back in, and re-emerged holding three black plastic blocks. He passed one each to Edwin and Crystal with a grin. "So we can stay in touch with Crystal – and each other, 'case we get split up."

Edwin sincerely hoped such a thing wouldn't come to pass. But he inspected the device with curiosity, its buttons and mesh panel and its little protruding antenna. "Oh. This is one of those... portable radio contraptions."

"Walkie talkies," Charles corrected. He held down the yellow button on his device and a babble of static erupted from the speaker. "Hold the button to talk, yeah?" His voice rattled out through Edwin and Crystal's handsets.

"We gotta get you guys cellphones," Crystal muttered.

"Excellent idea, Charles," said Edwin, ignoring her comment. "But I'd advise against using these except in cases of emergency. The noise could alert people to our presence."

Charles gave a lax salute, and tucked his handset into his coat.

"I really don't like you guys going in there alone," said Crystal, crossing her arms.

"I know," said Charles. "But you get it, yeah?"

A moment of tense silence passed between the three of them; the school looming at their back like a slumbering monster. Inside that building lay several dorms full of teenage boys. Different boys than from Charles and Edwin's times, but alike in breeding, in privilege and temperament. Those boys had tormented Edwin for his mannerisms, and beaten Charles to death for daring to do the right thing – undoubtedly, his parentage had also factored into their violent recourse.

None of them stated their precise fears out loud. The fear of what could transpire if a lone, dark-skinned teenage girl were to find herself in the belly of this particular beast in the dead of night. Even one with considerable psychic powers and two ghost bodyguards at her disposal. No one said a word, but the possibilities hung over their heads like a dark cloud nonetheless.

Perhaps it was an ungenerous thought, to imagine a school full of modern boys could devolve so abruptly into The Lord of the Flies. But Edwin wasn't prepared to roll those dice with his friend's safety. Against his own better judgement, he'd grown... fond of Crystal Palace. He shouldn't like to see her hurt, or killed. In fact, at the risk of sounding overly sentimental, he'd be most perturbed by such a thing.

Crystal sighed. "Yeah. Fine. I get it. Just..." She lurched forward and wrapped her arms around Charles, tightly. "Be careful. Okay?"

"I'm always careful!" he lied, a smile in his voice. It didn't match his face which, thankfully, was hidden from her view in her hair. But Edwin could see it; Charles' careful mask, knocked askew.

He averted his eyes.

Crystal snorted. "Great. Thanks. Makes me feel way better." She broke away from Charles and looked at Edwin, who took a reflexive step back. "I know, I know – no hugs," she said with a roll of her eyes. She compromised by giving his upper arm a firm squeeze instead. "Don't die. Again."

"We'll do our level best," said Edwin, patting the back of her hand briskly. "Now, we really must away – while we have the night on our side."

"There's some pretty dense trees off that way," said Crystal, gesturing. "I'm gonna wait there, should be easy to stay out of sight – hopefully it's close enough to stay in walkie range."

Charles stiffened. "The trees... near the lake?"

"Uh. Yeah, why?"

Edwin watched him closely.

Charles shook his head. "Nah, don't matter. Just – stay safe, yeah?"

"You too." She looked between them. "Hey... look after each other. Okay?"

Charles glanced at Edwin, and his posture softened. "Yeah," he said, with the shadow of a gentle smile. "Always do."

That assurance, at least, was not a lie.

~

"Charles, we're wasting time," Edwin hissed. Honestly – five minutes into their investigation and they hadn't even made it inside the building, yet! "We can simply walk through this door and bypass the lock altogether."

Charles didn't spare him a glance, preoccupied as he was squatting on the doorstep with his lockpicks across his knee. He'd been faffing with the old iron lock on the main doors to no avail for some time. "Yeah, but what if we've gotta call Crystal in to help us out right quick? Dunno if her psychic powers stretch to door hypnotism." He tossed Edwin a cheeky grin. "Only polite to open doors for ladies, innit?"

Edwin, unable to argue the logic or the etiquette, settled for squeezing his fists together and lurking discontentedly. So far he'd not heard the droning the groundskeeper had spoken of, nor felt any ominous supernatural feelings. At least, he assumed he hadn't. But it was a mite hard to focus on anything besides his own anxiety at being back in this place after so many years. Hard to differentiate between personal discomfort and something more sinister.

The lock gave a promising click, and Charles grinned. "Abracadabra."

Edwin stopped his hand when it went to turn the handle. "Best not. We mustn’t announce ourselves."

"Yeah. Yeah, good point." Charles straightened up, tucking his lockpicks away. "So. Hop right on through, then?"

"Indeed."

Charles' jaw gave a nervous tic. "...On three?"

"...Yes. yes, on three." Edwin braced himself. "One..."

"Two..." said Charles, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"Three!"

Their voices joined on the final count; and together they stepped through the ancient, unyielding oak, and into the hall within.

"Oh," Edwin exhaled, taking in the great hall with darting eyes.

"Huh," said Charles, squinting. "Thought it would look... different."

"You took the words right out of my mouth."

The entry hall had changed very little from Edwin's day – and by extension Charles'. Evidently, money and care had been put into the upkeep of the place; Edwin had spotted a plaque on the outside labelling it a registered building. Biggest change to speak of was the burgundy carpet now covering the floor; to protect the old boards from the footfall of thundering teenage boys, no doubt. Other changes were limited to minor modern conveniences. A plastic hand sanitiser dispenser beside the door. A corkboard papered over with glossy flyers for local sports and after school clubs. They surely must have updated the lighting, as well, but he and Charles weren't to benefit at this time for obvious reasons.

The familiarity was unsettling, to say the least. Like stepping back through the decades, into a time he'd gladly leave behind for good. Edwin cleared his throat, and straightened his jacket. "Well. I suppose we must set to. We're wasting the night."

"Where d'you wanna start?"

Edwin pulled out his notebook. He had notes and sketches in there based upon the floor plan that Crystal had sourced via her miraculous internet. Though he suspected he wouldn't need them. Already the sprawling skeleton of this old haunt was reassembling itself in his mind's eye. "It is as I said. We'll scour the lower levels, then work our way up." He furrowed his brow. "Strictly speaking, we should have started lower. This is the first floor, thanks to the stairs outside the main doors – the ground floor is below us, but it's mostly utilities. Kitchens, laundry, storage. Still, we shouldn't rule out that something of import could be down there."

"Easily solved." Charles got down on his knee and stooped, until he could press his forehead to the floor. Then he kept pressing forward, bent double with his backside in the air, and his incorporeal head bobbed through the carpet. Like an ostrich in the sand.

"Laundry room," he called, voice muffled by carpet and floorboards. "No one there. Should be safe to drop right through."

With a fond smile at Charles' bobbing back end, Edwin steepled his fingers. "A quick detour, then," he said, and hopped neatly through the floor and into the room below.

~

An unnecessary detour, as it turned out. But attention to detail was a key part of any detective's toolbox. After scouring the warren of utilities, they rejoined the first floor via a small service staircase between the kitchen and the mess hall.

"Ugh," said Charles, wrinkling his nose as he investigated the new (since Edwin's time) glass-fronted serving station. "Can't believe the last thing I ever ate was school dinner. Didn't even finish it, it was that rank.

Edwin blinked at him, pausing in his inspection of the head table. "You were permitted to leave food on your plate? They excused you?"

"...I mean. Yeah?"

"Goodness," Edwin chuckled, shaking his head. "What a liberal time you lived in."

"Not that liberal, mate. Got beaten to death, remember?"

Edwin smirked. "Perhaps if you'd been disallowed from leaving until you'd cleared your plate, you might not have found yourself in the wrong place at the wrong time."

His deadpan achieved the desired effect. Charles laughed, a bright spot in the dreary gloom. "Right. Brills. Bob back in time and tell myself to choke down the sweetcorn, then."

"Wise course of action."

"Right." Charles lifted the lid of a pot that someone had forgotten to clear away, and mock-gagged. "Nope. Not worth it. I'll take death, cheers."

~

The dining hall turned up nothing. Nor did any of the offices, lounges and staff rooms. Their exploration of the first floor came and went with no discoveries or fanfare, and soon it came time to move on. To the central staircase, and the second floor where the majority of the classrooms presided.

Edwin felt his apprehension mounting with every step. Two floors of fruitless searching was starting to irk and unsettle him. He longed for something decisive; a supernatural feeling, an apparition, even a blood-curdling scream. It felt worse to worry incessantly with no stimulus, unable to prove there was anything amiss outside of his own childish fears.

"They've replaced the blackboards," Edwin commented upon entering the first room. Craving a discovery, a distraction, anything.

"Oh. Yeah, I remember – they started switching them out my last year here. Headmaster was mad about these shiny new things. Probably got whiteboards in every room, now." Charles squinted at the plastic panel with its chunky black frame. "These ones look different to what I remember, mind."

"What do you write on them with?"

"Pens. Special pens, like."

"Hm. Probably for the best. Chalk dust was bothersome. I always developed the most wretched cough when it was my turn to beat the erasers." Edwin found the pens attached to the board and picked one up. "Let's see. No lid..." He tried an experimental scribble. "And not a drop of ink. Dry as a bone." He eyed the branding on the whiteboard's frame, sceptical. "Smart Board, indeed."

"Don't think there's anything in here. Unless we're looking for something sucks the ink out of whiteboard markers." Charles took the pen from Edwin's hand, turning it over and inspecting it. "What d'you think? Some sort of ink vampire?" he said, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Don't see any fang punctures."

"I hardly think an ink vampire is what we're looking for," said Edwin, activating his torch and sweeping it in a wide arc. The abandoned classroom came into hazy, yellow-tinged relief under his beam. This had once been his English room, many decades ago. Save for the impractical board, it remained largely unchanged – although the wooden chairs had been replaced with ones of metal and plastic. The bookshelves at the back of the room remained in situ; the thick, leather-bound volumes of Edwin's time supplanted by new editions with glossy cardboard covers.

Edwin hadn't much cared for his English lessons. He was good at them, of course, and he loved reading. Since escaping hell, he'd revisited a number of the books he'd once studied. But his heart had always sunk whenever he was called on to stand before the board and read aloud for the class. The snickers and guffaws of the other boys, the mean-spirited whispers and unsubtle name-calling. The nancy boy's, the Mary Ann's, and far worse when teacher's back was turned. God forbid he was asked to read a sonnet.

The sting of the memory hadn't faded with time, but had taken on some light and shade in the wake of his travails in hell. In the jeering blur of faces, he could imagine Simon's swimming into focus. Was that mockery in his eyes, or pity? Recognition? And was he really the only one? The only other boy in that room who'd wanted to reach out to Edwin, and felt compelled to push him away instead?

How many of them had passed through this room, like living ghosts, lost to time and to shame?

A cold, iron fist of grief clutched him by the throat. So tangible it damn near bowled him over. He caught himself on a desk, lest he lose his grip on the physical plain and plummet through the very floor.

"Edwin?!" Charles was beside him in an instant, hand on Edwin's back. "Edwin, what's the matter?"

Edwin screwed his eyes shut, shaking his head. Trying in vain to dislodge the ice that had seized upon his very soul, but it held him fast. He shivered, and Charles rubbed his back as if Edwin could feel it; as if he could coax the warmth back into a dead, frozen thing.

"There's... there's something wrong," Edwin bit out – alarmed at the resistance he faced. It felt like he had to force the words through chattering teeth. "Do you feel it?"

Charles hesitated, before exhaling a shuddering breath. "Thought it was just me," he said quietly. "Y'know. How I get."

Ghosts were beings of trauma – and dying of hypothermia was fairly traumatic, to say the least. Charles couldn't feel warmth anymore, but he could certainly feel cold; and in times of distress it seemed to shroud him, clouding his speech in icy vapour.

A small pang of guilt pierced Edwin like a thorn; perhaps Charles had already been feeling the chill for some time, and hadn't deemed it worth a mention.

"No. No, it's not just you," said Edwin, reaching back to pat Charles on the arm with a hand that felt like a block of ice. "It's not just you at all."

Charles gave a lopsided, flimsy smile. "Dead comforting, mate. Come on, let's get you up. There we go."

With Charles' support, Edwin managed to regain his footing, but the feeling remained. It had settled upon his essence like a dense snowfall; all-shrouding, all-permeating. Chilling him to the figurative marrow.

"D'you think this is it? What that bloke was on about?" asked Charles, jerking his shoulders, rubbing his arms.

"Struggling to see what else it could be. Although he said nothing about a sense of cold..." Edwin rubbed his head, trying to think past the immediate, intense discomfort. An image came to mind, unbidden, of Niko across from him at a café table. The drinking straw dropping from her lips, her entire face crumpling as she clutched her head and cried out "brain freeze!". Had he any inkling of how distressing the sensation was, he might've said something more consolatory than he had at the time.

The secondary knife of grief at recalling her face twisted itself deep in his back, pressing so hard on his shoulders his knees nearly buckled.

"Well," he said, strained. "At least we know we're not on a wild goose chase. There's definitely something here." He rubbed his gloved hands together. A peculiarly vivid, instinctual muscle memory, leftover from the days when cold wasn't a distant memory. "We must continue the search. Let us check the desks while we're in here."

Charles gave a sharp nod, his face drawn, the first phantom wisps of breath creeping from his lips. Normally, Edwin would have offered his own coat to fend off the psychic, psychosomatic chill by now. But with Edwin likewise affected, it felt like any attempt to shrug out of the garment would be met by cracking and splintering. Spectral wool rendered asunder by devouring ice. For the first time, they were each as incapacitated as the other. Not a drop of warmth between their two dead, insubstantial forms to make a dent in the frost.

But their hands found one another, nonetheless. And it did make him feel better, warmer, even only infinitesimally.

There was something to be said for the placebo effect.

~

It was a long shot, hoping they might happen across some kind of obvious cursed artefact or hex doll in a pupil's desk in the first classroom they searched. Still, best to leave no stone unturned. In they end they had to concede that whatever it was they were looking for, they weren't going to find it in the English room.

They passed through the other classrooms in a similar fashion. Each presenting them with no evidence, but an abundance of unwelcome memories. The maths room, where Edwin had acquired a small scar on his jaw from a compass flung in his direction. The geography room, where he'd once been soundly caned for a book he'd 'defaced' – while the real culprits got off scot-free, of course. The old history study, where he'd often sought refuge of an evening. Where he'd tried to focus on the kindliness of the professor; and not on the unreadable, uncomfortable way he would sometimes sit and watch Edwin from across the room. Like he knew something about him. Like he had half a mind to bid him come closer.

The feeling, such as it was, seemed to bear down on them with every room checked, every memory unearthed. By the time they reached the stairs to the third floor, they were both near panting from exertion; wading through the empty corridors with all the ease of stomping through snow drifts.

"If it isn't even down here, what's it gonna be like when we're closer?" asked Charles, blowing on his hands and stomping his feet. He looked pale and peaky, his words and breaths escaping in ragged puffs of phantom condensation.

Edwin was faring no better. He felt tight in the chest, frayed in the nerves. The chill had penetrated so very deep, he had begun to hear it; like a cutting wind, like ice creaking under foot. Like a crackling, throbbing drone in the back of his consciousness.

There were two more floors of this wretched place left to investigate, and already he felt crushed under the avalanche of ill feeling and dreadful recollections. He was tired of dredging up things he'd worked for decades to put behind him. Tired of wading through this viscous mire of magic and memory. He wanted to leave. He wanted to be back at the agency, where it was calm and safe and the walls were imbued with a kinder history. He wanted to find whatever was causing this disturbance at once, and put this damnable case behind them!

He about-turned to face the end of the corridor – and there was the mirror. An ancient thing, ornate frame carved from finest mahogany. He remembered it well. A hundred years it must have stood there. More than a hundred – it had already been old in Edwin's time. It had survived well, save for a small patch of woodworm damage in the lower right corner. Edwin used to stand in front of it, sometimes, when the other boys were outside shooting clay pigeons or playing rugby. Used to gaze, forlorn, at his own reflection; wondering if there was a way to be anything but what he was.

There was no reflection now, of course. He'd seen his reflection only once in the last thirty-odd years; on his return to hell, his introduction to Lady Despair. He'd seen himself a hundred years on from this mirror, marred by filth and bloody gouges. So different to how he remembered. And yet still, always and forever, the same frightened little boy. Trapped and miserable; searching for a way out.

Don't... Don't...

A whisper on the gale, barely intelligible as words. Was the call coming from himself? Or from the thing they sought? It was impossible to know, but whatever it was, it was crying from the back of his soul. Clawing out, grasping for him with icy fingers of terror and desolation.

"Edwin?"

Charles' voice seemed to fade behind the whisper. Behind the steadily growing cacophony of creaking wood and shuddering glass. If this was real after all, and not just a trick of the mind, then this thing, whatever it was, could bring the entire blasted building tumbling down.

Edwin held his hand out to the mirror, no coherent thought behind the action. It was where he needed to be. Reaching out, reaching in, making contact with the space behind and between.

"Take me," he breathed. "Take me to the root of this."

"Edwin," Charles' voice came from far away. "Edwin, stop! You dunno what you're bloody walking into!"

No. He didn't know. But he needed to. He needed to find the cause, the catalyst, the beating heart under the floorboards. Needed to find the source of that cry – needed to know that it was external, and not a result of his own mind coming undone in this foul place. He reached to the mirror, through the mirror. Rigid glass parted for his fingers with a gentle ripple; the softly broken surface of a still pond. Calm waters, a silky embrace.

And then it gripped him tight, and dragged him under.

~

He was distantly aware of Charles' panicked cries, but they were cut off in moments as the mirror's surface froze over behind him.

Severed from the material plain, Edwin tumbled into freefall. Through that familiar trans-dimensional space behind the reflection; but it didn't feel familiar anymore. It felt tumultuous, violent. He toppled through the in-between space like Alice down the rabbit hole; twisted and turned, tossed from current to savage current. Beaten and battered from all sides by vigorous currents of nothing and everything and not-quite-almost-something. All the time followed by that whispering in his mind, growing in frequency and fervency: Don't. Don't. Don't leave...

And then he was through. Spat out without ceremony, without so much as a by-your-leave. He barely caught himself as he staggered back into the world – a cloud of thick, grey dust erupting under his skittering feet.

"Edwin?!"

Ah, there was Charles again. But he sounded different – smaller, further away, tinny. It took longer than Edwin would care to admit to realise he was hearing him through the walkie-talkie in his pocket.

"Edwin, where the fuck are you? The bloody mirror closed up behind you!"

Edwin fumbled for the device – an uphill struggle, with frozen fingers and a brain yet to cease spinning. It was even colder here, wherever here was. Sub-human temperatures. Had Edwin any blood, it would have flash-frozen in his veins. "Charles," he gasped, as he clumsily depressed the transmit button. "Charles, I'm here. I'm in one piece."

He released the button. Shortly afterwards, a static-clouded echo of Charles' incredulous laughter cut through the speaker.

"Oh, you fucking bastard," Charles blurted, with feeling. "You just went for it! You... you absolute wanker. We're meant to stick together, yeah? Fuck. Tell me where you are. What's it look like?"

"I'm..." Edwin blinked through the dust and dark, eyes adjusting. He didn't want to chance the torch until he knew for sure that he was alone. He squinted at the lines and surfaces illuminated by the feeble moonlight through the dirt-encrusted window. Piles of assorted dross and clutter, caked with dust. Ropes, shelves, broken chairs, ratty sports equipment and bedding...

Oh.

"Oh." He pressed the button. "Charles, I'm – I'm in the attic. The attic."

Charles' short, shocked breath whistled over the line. "Shit. Really?"

"Quite positive." He straightened up from his awkward stance, but couldn't find it in himself to dust off his coat. He moved stiffly, sluggishly; frozen down to his very ectoplasm. "Why would it bring me here...?"

"Edwin? Edwin, listen to me – just stay put, yeah?" Charles implored, his voice punctuated by hollow thumping. No doubt he was throwing himself up the stairs with reckless speed. "I'm coming to get you, I'm gonna leg it, just – don't move!"

"Don't wake up the entire school," Edwin countered, through chattering teeth. He received no response, so he put away the device with shaking hands and took stock of the situation. The space, like much of the school, had barely changed in the years since he'd last seen it. None of the clutter had been removed, only added to. New objects – including the large, cracked mirror Edwin had stumbled through – lay propped against the old. The only distinction between the two lay in the differing thickness of the covering dust.

He was alone, as far as he could tell. No people, no ghosts that he could see. But he didn't feel alone. He felt, in that sinking stone of dread in his stomach, that there was something else here. Something cold and desperate and far, far more lonely than he, and it was crying out to him. Tugging at his sleeve like a child. It wasn't a voice, as such, but it was a plea. It wanted him closer. It wanted him.

Don't move. Charles said not to move.

But his neck nonetheless craned of its own volition. Drawn towards the needling drone that he could neither hear not not hear. The sonorous buzz that cried out look at me look at me see me please see me. It seemed to grab him by the jaw and force his gaze over, over, to that same miserable pile of boxes and blankets where he'd once read Charles Rowland to his rest. No. No, not to the boxes or the blankets.

To the trunk.

He recalled it, dimly. The large black trunk with its brass clasps and corners. He'd perched atop it as he'd read to Charles. It still had his scrounged selection of dusty comics balanced on the lid.

The cry was coming from inside, he was certain of it.

Don't move. Don't move.

The floorboards groaned under his footsteps. He felt heavier, here. More tethered to the physical realm. To the strange call that gripped him by the collar and demanded he come closer, closer still. To the leather and wood under his gloved hands as he ran them over the chest, fingers trembling on the clasps.

Up close, the drone was no longer a drone. Had never been a drone. It was a rattle. A dry, endless rattle.

Wait for Charles. Please. Just wait for Charles.

Brass clicked. Leather creaked.

The trunk opened.

~

"Edwin?!"

Charles barrelled through the wall at speed, eyes wild, cricket bat brandished. He skidded to a halt that was near cartoonish; just before his momentum could carry him right across the small attic space and through the opposite wall.

It might have been amusing – were Edwin not currently beset by the notion that he may never laugh again so long as he continued to exist.

"Edwin?" Charles hollered. "Where are you?"

"I'm here." Edwin's voice was small, fragile despite his best efforts. He was struggling to support it.

Charles spun on his heel and dashed to Edwin's side. "Edwin! You scared the shit out of me! What're you thinking, blinking out on your own like that?!"

"I had a hunch. At least, I think I did..." He looked up – when had he sat down on the floor...? – and drank in the sight of Charles. He looked a bit like he might want to wallop Edwin with his cricket bat. Edwin had never seen a sweeter sight. "I'm sorry. You're right. I wasn't thinking."

Charles huffed, his face softened. "You? Not thinking?" Charles hunkered down beside him, bat across his knees, hand reaching out to palm across Edwin's shoulders. "What's going on with you, mate? I mean, I feel it too, but... it's really getting you, innit?"

"Yes," Edwin exhaled, voice shaking. "And I believe I know why."

"You found something?" Chales leaned in closer. "What? What did you find?"

Edwin closed his eyes, and slowly lifted the lid of the trunk once more. "Myself. In a manner of speaking."

He waited, focusing on the darkness behind his eyelids. He'd already seen the contents of the trunk, and he had no desire to see it again. No matter how mournful its cries to be seen.

A moment of silence passed, and then Charles swore, voice cracking around the expletive. "Oh, fuck. Edwin. Mate, I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry."

The weight lifted from Edwin's hand as Charles took hold of the lid of the trunk. Edwin gratefully relinquished it.

"Did you know these were up here?" asked Charles. He sounded close to tears, close enough that Edwin almost opened his eyes to look. He couldn't bring himself to, in the end.

Edwin shook his head. "I wasn't even aware they still existed. When that demon took me, it felt like... like my entire being crumbled into nothing. There couldn't have been anything left. I was sure of it..."

"Are we sure they're..." Charles cleared his throat. "Um..."

"Mine? Yes. It's... difficult to explain, but I can... feel them." Edwin held up his hand, and even through his glove he felt an answering prickle in his palm. "Like they're trying to... pull me back in. Like they've been waiting for me."

"Have they just been here all this time?"

"My death was labelled a disappearance. No remains. So... yes. I fear so." He breathed out a ragged sigh, turning his head to Charles before he risked opening his eyes. "Whoever's responsible likely sequestered them up here at the earliest opportunity."

Charle visibly blanched. "So these were here? When we – when I...?"

"When you died. Yes." Out of the corner of his eye, a sickening blot of ivory white. He kept his gaze resolute, fixed on Charles and only Charles. "I suppose they were."

They sat in silence, staring; Edwin at Charles, Charles at the wretched horror they'd unearthed. Edwin found himself, for once, quite speechless. One's thoughts tended to scatter, when faced with the grim sight of one's own withered bones. Tucked out of sight and out of mind, piled into a trunk in an attic and forgotten like a former child's abandoned toys.

Charles sniffed, shrugging his shoulders sharply. "We can't just leave them here," he said, adamant. "We – we need to take them, yeah? Leave 'em on the coppers' doorstep, prove what happened here."

Edwin shook his head. "I disappeared in nineteen sixteen, Charles. Without a trace. The very definition of a cold case. I know there's been significant advancements in the forensic sciences, but even if they were to glean some evidence, what would they compare it to? What in the world is there left to connect these bones to me?"

"They'll find something."

"Next to impossible."

"Don't you want people to know, Edwin?" Charles burst out, turning to look at him at last. There was rage burning in his eyes, his voice straining under the force of it. Not rage at Edwin, he didn't think. Just at the situation, at the unfairness of it. Frustration bubbling over. "You said it yourself; no one ever solved our cases. You could be the first. Show everyone what goes on here, tear this fucking place down."

"And if nothing gets done, Charles?" Edwin snapped back. "We don’t trust the police for good reason. If we hand this new evidence to the them on a silver platter and they bury it again, what then?"

He regretted his outburst in an instant when Charles fell silent. Guilty, grief-stricken. It was a horrible expression on his face, far worse than the anger, and Edwin immediately despised himself for putting it there.

Edwin sighed. He couldn't look Charles in the eye. But he could reach out, tentatively nudge his hand with the back of his own. A little bit of the ugly rift healed when Charles accepted the olive branch without question. He wrapped his fingers around Edwin's and squeezed – for all the good it did them.

"My parents are long gone, Charles," said Edwin, when he'd gathered himself. He kept his eyes trained on Charles' thumb, and the way it traced small circles on the back of Edwin's hand. With their gloves in the way, Edwin could almost pretend that was the only reason he couldn't feel the gesture. "Every relative I ever knew, everyone who could possibly miss me. And the boys who did this..."

He thought of the massacre that preceded his own abduction. Thought of Simon, rotting in that dingy pocket of hell, textbook pages tarred with tears and blood.

Edwin closed his eyes. "Everyone who could've been punished for this has been. I've... I've no more closure to gain."

The truth of the statement came as a surprise even to him, but he couldn't deny it. Everyone who would have cared to know what happened was long, long gone. The best he could hope for was a black mark on the school's record, a curious obituary in the local news.

Charles huffed, but he didn't argue again. "Alright. Alright, mate." He extracted his hand from Edwin's to put it on his neck, just briefly. Just holding his face a moment, almost as he had on that very long staircase some months ago. He cracked a barely-there smile. "It's your bones, innit? Your rules."

Edwin returned it, weak, but grateful. Too exhausted even to think about their proximity, about the intimacy of the gesture. He hadn't a single thought except for how dearly he'd like to sink into it and let Charles carry him, now. Let him take over, just for a little while.

"We can't just leave 'em here, though," said Charles, with a glance daring Edwin to argue.

"No," Edwin agreed, somewhat feeble. He didn't want to look at them; and yet, paradoxically, he'd never wanted to look at anything more. He looked at Charles instead, drawing comfort from his familiar countenance. "No, I suppose we can't."

Charles stared into the trunk a moment longer, a soft, ethereal glow playing on his fine features. Why the bones seemed to be possessed of their own faint light, Edwin couldn't possibly begin to guess. Nor could he guess why they'd altered the spectral temperature so drastically. Or why the chill had alleviated somewhat, the very moment he'd opened the box and looked upon them. Under Charles' gaze, the thaw was even more profound. Edwin could almost be fooled into thinking himself warm.

Upon looking away from the bones, Charles met Edwin's gaze. And he held it, steady as a rock, as he pulled his hand from Edwin's neck and reached into his own coat. A burst of static broke the silence.

"Crystal," said Charles, holding the walkie talkie up to his face. "Crystal, you hear me? Over."

"Yeah, Charles, I hear you," came her voice – the signal was weak, but stable enough. "And you don't actually have to say 'over'."

"What? 'Course I do, that's the whole point of – actually? Doesn't matter right now. Crys, need you to do us a favour. Go home."

"What–?!"

"Back to the office, I mean," he rushed out. "Run back and dig out that other mirror from the spare room. The proper big one, should be buried somewhere. Probably under the surfboards."

"You guys have surfboards...?" She made a noise of indignation. "Wait, and a spare room?! I slept on that stupid couch for two weeks!"

"Have a go at us later, yeah? Just – right now, please, go dig it out, and put it in the office, alright? Please, Crys." He scanned the trunk with his eyes. "Somewhere with lots of space in front."

"Ugh, fine. But Charles – what's going on?"

"We found what we were looking for." He closed his eyes, and then the trunk – and Edwin wondered if he, too, could hear the plaintive cry in the back of his mind when he fastened the clasps, committing the bones once more to darkness. "And we've got something important to shift. Over and out."

~

Reeeaaally hope you liked it! Any thoughts? I'm still in the process of pulling together the rest of the story, but I think it'll probs be 3 chapters overall, could really use the motivation to get the tricky second chapter into shape! Some commentary! - not much Crystal in this chapter but I promise more of her in 2/3! - writing them bobbing through floors and things was SO fun, I get that it adds a whole load of special effects they need to budget for but I think the show should have more fun with them walking through walls lmao - the weird history professor is kind of inspired by Hector from the History Boys. Which, if you've never seen it, is a play/movie about a bunch of boys whose favourite teacher is also, well, kind of a fucking creep. It's sort of a dark comedy and honestly just really interesting with the way it depicts this bizarre relationship, the way this person in these teens' lives is objectively doing something Shitty to them but he's still their favourite because he also supports them and inspires them and makes learning fun and, in Posner's case, makes him feel less alone in his queerness. I didn't put him in to imply that in the canon of this fic, Edwin has actually been sexually abused - but the Hector-type character slotted rather neatly into the strange culture of this setting and this era. It just added another little layer of tragedy I couldn't resist. Another queer person in Edwin's immediate vicinity, warped by the repression and loneliness of the time into another potential abuser/antagonist, and unfortunately irresistible despite the red flags. - as mentioned in the intro notes, s/o to Ande for the Charles' misty breath idea! It wasn't originally gonna feature in this fic but then it slotted in so perfectly I had to borrow it! Everyone say thank you Ande for immediately coming up with the most banger headcanons like 5mins into joining the fandom. - I know the popular headcanon is ghosts can't feel stuff but CAN feel other ghosts, and while I generally subscribe to that it doesn't fit this fic for Reasons. Bear with me! - the bones in the attic is from the comics. I haven't actually read the main DBDA comics, but I've read the issue of Sandman they initially appear in. I'm assuming the show isn't doing the bones in the attic, since it looks like Edwin disappeared completely and all the boys who sacrificed him got killed, but it had such delicious angst potential I wanted to do my own take on how it could work in the show and that's basically what kicked off this fic! The ideas have been developing as I write though and the shape has changed a lot from my initial idea! Anyway, that's enough out of me, I've babbled enough today 😅 But I hope you liked this, please consider dropping us a comment if you did! Or come talk to m, honestly, I'm just excited about these guys and wanna yap xD Hopefully get the next chapter out in the next couple of weeks or so, but chapter 2 is probs gonna be the most awkward one bc it's the one where my ideas need to most work to string together! Until next time! 💛

[toxicanonymity]

RULES & FAQs

THIS BLOG IS 18+ NO MINORS 🔞

WELCOME ABOARD! This blog has amazing readers which makes it a lot of fun. You can call me Tox or Toxy (she/her). I usually write smut. Sometimes I write darkfic. I dabble in horror. Please do not follow me if you're sensitive to the warnings on my masterlists, found in my bio. Check your content settings to make sure you can see everything. Heed warnings on fics. Last updated July 2024.

Basics

Tox/Toxy, she/her, millennial. English or Spanish.

WIPs are on hiatus. I'm kinda struggling but trying to do my best. Thank you for your patience.

Do not copy, translate, or reupload my work. Do not put it into AI or make bots of it. Ty for understanding.

Please do not follow me if you are averse to dark content including dubcon and noncon.

Q: Are Requests open?

A: No, but questions are welcome 🩷

Q: Will you write more every inch/left in Lincoln?

A: I would like to. More here. For Every Inch, there are two more parts planned.

Q: When is [fic] coming back? How many chapters?

A: IDK, sorry :( If I knew I'd tell you. In the future, I'm not planning to release things as I write, I'm gonna try to finish everything before posting. Problem is I have a lot of one shot fails / play as I go AUs. We'll see. I can tell you Every Inch has 6 total parts planned.

Q: Did you read my fic?

A: I wish I could read everyone's fics, but in addition to there being a lot of you, I'm a slow/bad reader. I'm also overdosed on pedro rn, but I still share fics on @toxicrecs. You are welcome to send a fic or tag me if you think the readers here would like it. When I read a fic, I also reblog it here on main. I am most likely to read shorter drabbles/fics.

Q: AO3?

A: Here, I've done a lot of catching up but still not everything is on there. If there's something specific you would like me to bring over let me know and I will.

Q: Tag list?

A: Please follow @toxicfics, use the person icon to turn on notifications, and use this trick for getting a tab on your dashboard just for your blog subscriptions so you can see what you missed.

Q: Are the fics always dark on this blog?

A: No.

Q: What is the brothel?

A: I HC my characters as living in a brothel which has its own crack sideblog @toxicbrothel.

Q: What are Joelkémons?

A: Reader-coined term for the Joel variants on this blog. Some are listed here: Joelkémon cards.

Q: Can we make your characters into bots?

A: No, please don't do this. It makes me feel bad and they don't even work. Every time, it puts me farther away from updating the fic. Please lmk if you ever see my work made into a bot, copied, etc. Please don't draw attention to it without speaking to me first 🙏🏼 I generally like to keep things quiet and not make a big deal out of it.

Q: Who's night walks!Joel? Who's thighs out?

A: Night Walks is an AU where Joel is your hot, older, creepy pothead neighbor. Night walks masterlist. Thighs out (another AU) is your boyfriend's hot slutty dad.

Q: What's a HOG? Who/what is GILF?

A: Hot Old Guy, from Silence can never be bought pt. 2 and 5. GILF is grandpa I'd Like to Fuck and may refer to the one from Pawn Shop (Joel in his 60s) @gilfjoel.

Q: Who is Dr. Rock?

A: Hot sex therapist who roleplays my characters. Dr. Rock is also the poster boy for avoiding discourse.

Q: Do you still write slashers?

A: Yes. I just wrote my first Thomas Hewitt in March 2024. Main/slashers masterlist.

Q: What other fics & blogs do you rec?

A: Please check out @toxicrecs

Q: How can I stay motivated to write without getting a lot of notes?

A: Please see these posts: here and here.

Q: Which anon tags are taken?

A: 🍯 🍹 🍓🦡

Q: Why did you unfollow me?

A: I could've lost (some or all) interest in your fandom. I may have forgotten why I followed you, especially if what you're posting has changed. Or I might be wanting to reduce the discourse I see.

✨Q: Am I blocked? Why can't I see your main blog from my account? / Did you soft block me?

⚠️ A: The most common reasons I block are for policing or judging what others post, kink shaming, or spreading harmful rumors. ⚠️

When it comes to rumors and shaming, silence is not a sign of guilt or agreement. It's confidence in the truth and desire to keep harmful takes off the dash. As a rule, I would ignore and block false accusations, rumors, or kink shamers instead of giving them a huge audience by responding or addressing it.

Harmful takes in the wild / targeted harassment: blocked. And if a post is bad enough--such as calling for targeted harassment of writers or trivializing a serious crime by casually accusing writers of it, I may block people for positively interacting with it. I don't want to be on your dash if you share those views, even if it's about something I don't write. On my blog, it's important for readers to be able to understand fiction can't be equated with real life. And who's to say I won't offend or traumatize you on a different topic one day? It's for your own good.

You can get blocked on anon too.

[scabopolis]

fic recs: l/v non-linear timeline fics

In anticipation of the upcoming 2023 Logan x Veronica "New Year, New Fic" fest, I bring you a small selection of fics inspired by Logan and Veronica getting busy and getting in fights in a non-linear timeline fashion (think flashbacks, think time loops, think in media res).

Day 1 of the challenge is February 1, 2023 so be sure to check out the #2023 LV New Year here on tumblr or the AO3 collection for more fic and art.

As a reminder, there are so many fics that fill these tropes. These are just a smattering, so make sure to make note of the ones you love the most and next week, when the challenge starts, maybe go drop those you love a kudos, a comment, or both to share the joy.

Fic: Slipstream by @cheshirecatstrut Rating: M, for smut, and it making me feel mature love feelings for both Logan and Veronica Tropes and Themes: It's Groundhog's Day but in a sexy way, team detecting, and this really being the true definition of "in every reality I choose you" Read if: You like nice things

Fic: How the powder burns by @scabopolis (it's a me! Mario!) Rating: T, for some swears, and some unfair jumping to conclusions that ultimately are resolved Tropes and Themes: There's only one bed (but they're mad about it), the author has never met a story she couldn't tell in media res Read if: You like unnecessary and copious amounts of flirting over margaritas Fic: Five Lives Never Led (or, everything in Time should be either titillating or epic) by lovesrogue36 Rating: E for "bow chicka wow wow" Tropes and Themes: A classic five times fic you will want to devour in one single setting, angsty as as all getout but so delicious (really, heed those tags) Read if: A recommendation by the fair @thelillykane who is never wrong - so read it if you like to never be wrong Fic: A Fine and Endless Cycle by kartography Rating: E for sexiness, and two college students who really need to get their ish together Tropes and Themes: non-linear as it jumps back and forth in time, two people finding their way, sexy makeout times Read if: You like reading fics that feel like catharsis and that give you a heavy reward at the end (if that makes ANY sense). Another rec by @thelillykane who reports that this fic makes her "scream, claw, etc." Fic: Knowing the Difference by @vmsteenbeans Rating: T for Terrific, and sometimes Terribly frustrating (because of EMOTIONS) but that is ultimately Tremendous Tropes and Themes: Expert use of flashbacks, classic post-s3 AU, these two work at it and holy hell is that great Read if: You want a true classic VM fic; the world of VM fic for years and years was built on post-s3 future fics and Steen's is a gold standard

Fic: I'm the hero of the story by monroeslittle Rating: PG technically, but emotionally it's a gut punch in the best way so idk, man Tropes and Themes: It's amnesia fic baby!, domestic delightfulness, and adorable child, Piz getting dumped AGAIN Read if: You want to see character growth in such a beautifully succinct way; probably in my top-10 most read fics Fic: Choices: How to Make a Life by TXQuill Rating: T, as in "TXQuill only wrote this one fic for VM and that is a TRAGEDY" Tropes and Themes: Growing up and growing smarter, is it a dream or is it real?, man they EARN that happy ending Read if: You never have before because I think it's a gem. I still remember all the feelings from when I first read it.

[punkibirdi]

Angel ૮₍ ˃ ⤙ ˂ ₎ა

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

he/him/it + neos - queer - single

This is a safe space- I'll help when I can <3 (If a topic doesn't have TW's I won't reply)

Age: 16

Fandoms: Marauders, OFMD, good omens, Gorillaz, star trek, ghibli, stardew, etc...

Music: Gorillaz, Conan Gray, Hozier, Cavetown, Mother Mother, David Bowie, etc...

AO3: Punkibirdi

Writing/Art: Requests open!

Link to list of crisis hotlines for many different countries

Please do not post any of my work on fanfiction.net/wattpad. Translations welcome, please tag me in inspired works.

Below the cut:

My Fics

Request boundaries

LGBTQIA+ resources

My Fics:

Note- I am writing all fic ratings. If you are a minor, please take heed.

The Final verse - rated PG, tags: Todd Anderson, Neil Perry (Dead Poets Society), Charlie Dalton, John Keating, Steven Meeks, Wholesome, suddenfic, under 1000 words.

Endgame - rated PG 14, tags: Marauders, Jegulus, wolfstar.

Request Boundaries:

No mental health romanticizing

No incest

No large age gaps

No non-con, in any sense

No proshippers

No NSFW

LGBTQIA+ Resources:

Here are the websites I often link to when giving people advice. I'll add to these as I find more!

Need help? The Trevor Project has Crisis Counselors

The genderbread person- (sexual attraction versus gender versus romantic attraction)

List of nonbinary identities and definitions

List of ace identities and definitions

A highly-reviewed chest binder that ships to like a hundred countries

Pronouns explained

LGBTQIA+ travel safety guide- world

LBGTQIA+ rights/safety by state in US

United States LGBTQIA+ student rights

The Trevor Project- Sexual Orientation Information

The Trevor Project- Gender Identity Information

Pronoun closet (try different pronouns)

updates:

04/29/2024 07/23/2024 07/24/2024 08/02/2024

[eirenical]

Writing Patterns

Thanks for the tag, @kingsandbastardz!

List the first sentence of your last 10 AO3 works. (I assume this means the most recent 10?)

Haven't done one of these in a while and they always turn out fun, so thanks for opportunity! :D (All fic links are to their tumblr posts so you can see tags/warnings/ratings/etc. before jumping in if you'd like to read the rest, unless indicated otherwise with an asterisk (*).)

(** means please heed the tags. There are either major archive warnings or common trigger content in these fic.)

Pulling himself from the water was the hardest thing Di Feisheng had ever done; it was harder that escaping the Di Fortress, harder than building the Jinyuan Alliance, harder than any number of things than he had once found difficult. (From the Mud of Adversity, Mysterious Lotus Casebook)

Li Lianhua finds him on the street, orphaned, abandoned, scrounging for scraps, a little ragged, a little worse for wear. (Strays, Mysterious Lotus Casebook)

It's nearly two months after the Bicha poison has been purged from his system before Li Lianhua picks up a sword again. (Accompaniment, Mysterious Lotus Casebook)

You're 15 years old and you hear his name for the first time. (Lightning in a Bottle; Mysterious Lotus Casebook)

It started so small. (Freefall,* DMBJ: The Lost Tomb Reboot)

One step after another, slinking through the shadows, following, always following. (Coming Home,* ** Being Human (UK))

People's Republic of China Marriage Certificate What… the fuck? (A Decent Proposal, DMBJ: The Lost Tomb Reboot)

Zhang Qiling loved dawn. (where you find light, when all grows dark, DMBJ novels: Yucun Biji)

The picnic had been Wu Xie’s idea, as most things were. (Whatever It Takes,** DMBJ novels: Yucun Biji, DMBJ: Ultimate Note)

He blinked his eyes open. Once. Twice. (Composite Events,** DMBJ: novels, Ultimate Note, TLT2)

Bonus: First line of my currently active WiPs

He'd come on like the storm: fast, furious, and unforgiving. (The Donghai Battle Was A Hatefuck fic, MLCB)

"You're lighter than you look." (drunk fic, South Wind Knows)

So... in terms of commonality, I can tell you they all feel like "me" but what exactly I mean by that, I'm not sure? XD Some are long, some very short. POVs differ, but mostly it's 3rd person.

I suppose one commonality between most of them is they tend to just drop you right into the middle of the action? More and more that's a style of storytelling I like. Just dropping people in the middle of a scene and letting them pick up the pieces as they go. That works particularly well for short fic, but I find it's a lot of fun for long fic, too. ^_^

IDK, do you guys see any commonalities?

Tagging, as always, anyone who thinks this looks fun and wants to do it (feel free to tag me if you do!), and specifically @bbcphile, @enechelon, @fixaidea, @difeisheng, @laireshi, @slangerogkatter, @highpriestessofjogan, @mejomonster, @kholran, @lizardrosen, and I am totally blanking on who all my writing friends are so as I said, please consider yourself tagged if you want to do this. ^_^

[the-beetle-details-channel]

Before you start scrolling

Author's Notes:

The ETAC (short for Essempi Tech & Arts College) au is a high school Traffic Life/Hermitcraft/Empires/other MCYTs series set in London, mainly based on Miraculous Ladybug.

This series on ao3 follows Grian as Garnet Beetle, the holder of the Ladybug Miraculous, Scar as Nightclaw, the holder of the Black Cat Miraculous, and assorted MCYTers as heroes. This blog is named "The Beetle Details Channel" after the in-universe equivalent of the LadyBlog from the Miraculous Ladybug show, ran by ETAC!Pearl.

Disclaimer- I, @thepandafangirl/ @ccssketchbooknstuff , the author of this fanfic series, am obviously not PearlescentMoon herself. (This blog is an AU explanation ask RP blog through ETAC!Pearl's POV.)

This blog:

Will have depictions of violence and injury. I mean, stuff you'd see in a miraculous ladybug episode (be warned, that does include temporary mind control & the like).

Will occasionally contain #hermitshipping, #trafficshipping, #empiresshipping & #mcytshipping content. It is a miraculous ladybug au after all.

As it is an RP blog, asks will be answered by both ETAC!Pearl and myself, the author. This will depend on whether the ask is on in-universe or meta (like workings of a fic) stuff.

All posts will be tagged accordingly. Please heed the tags on each post and block any of them if you need to!

Rules:

Bigotry (racism, ableism, homophobia, transphobia, etc) will not be tolerated at all. This is a safe space for minorities.

Please do not harass me or others using the reblogs/ask box/submissions page about stuff you don't like in this AU. DM me politely if you have an issue that needs addressing.

No explicit NSFW. (If there's suggestive jokes, that's fine. Keep things within the range of what you'd tag as Teens & Up on ao3)

Use tone tags as necessary.

We ignore Miraculous Ladybug season 5 because the plotline is terrible /silly

Enjoy your time here!

[randyzorra]

Please Read! Welcome to my Art Blog

Hi there! I'm Randy (he/him, nonbinary) and this is where I dump my fanart (and occasional original art).

My art may not be used for NFTs or AI.

Asks are welcome!

Commissions: OPEN - carrd - Prices Too pricy but still want to support me? Buy me a Coffee!

Main blog: @caaaaaww (I reblog a lot to my main!)

Fandoms:

Dead by Daylight

Mortal Kombat

TMNT/Rise of the TMNT

Overwatch

Red Dead Redemption 2

Hetalia (rarely draw for this anymore, but still may revisit individual characters)

Notes:

DBD (and some original) art may feature blood/violence/body horror/gore. I will try to tag appropriately!

Please heed when I state not to tag something as a ship. Tcest/Shimadacest/mk1 2023 Subscorp etc shippers are not welcome here and my work is not made for them.

Likewise, TERFs and other bigots are not welcome here.

My art is primarily SFW, though I am still an adult and may post art featuring swearing, violence, or suggestive themes with adult characters.

I try to tag these appropriately with tags such as #blood #suggestive

I block liberally! Due to the bots on this site, I check every blog that follows me. If your blog is 100% empty - no icon, no description, no likes - or if you have posted/reblogged content that makes me uncomfortable, I will block you.

I do not support or condone the use of AI. I will block you.

I will add to and edit this post as I see fit!

TMNT Red Ronin AU: HIATUS

Masterpost

Tag

Other Socials:

- DeviantArt

- Twitch (Streaming in the morning on random Wednesdays)

- ArtFight

- Ao3

Also found under the usernames RandyZorra and LandofChorin elsewhere, these are just my most active art spots.

I also have a RedBubble where select drawings are available as stickers and prints!

[grasslandgirl]

finished reading your slasher fic and let me tell u i was fighting back TEARS!!! i dont really care for horror, wasnt raised on it, but reading your fic which is so unequivocally horror has got me feeling like maybe i dont like horror movies, but horror books are where its at. like, yeah the physical grusomeness of it sticks (kristen's head being cleaved open, gorgug's face lacerated by glass) but what really got me tearing up was the grief that was occupying the narrative (the painted fingernails, the hugs, the friendship bracelets, the BRAID OMG). Like in movies you are shown the horror, in writing you must feel it, including the grief and rage of a fucked up thing happening to you transforming you into a fucked up thing. So shout out to you for making me consider and love horror lit!

oh my god anon <33 this is so lovely and kind, truly thank you 🥹💛 if I'm honest, I wasn't raised on horror either, and as I said in the author's note of slasher, I haven't really watched many horror/slasher films or literature myself (I was a scaredy cat as a child and didn't have any interest in horror media growing up, and so now as an adult it's not something i really seek out on my own, though it probably wouldn't scare me if i were to watch it now. horror films are the kind of thing where i'd probably watch them if someone recommended it and wanted to watch one with me, but wouldn't seek out on my own.) Slasher was inspired by the themes and scenes I've seen online and absorbed through other films/tv shows/etc, but i was worried when i finished and posted it, that my inexperience in the genre would be obvious to the audience, and so it truly means the world to me that I was able to capture a mood so clearly in my fic <3 i really enjoy getting to dig into specific sensory and emotional hooks in a scene, getting to describe a setting how i see it in my head, and the imagery while i was writing slasher was really clear and visceral in my head, and so I'm so glad and grateful i was able to communicate those images onto the page!!! hearing that i was able to create an emotional response in you through my writing is one of the best compliments i could ever receive, so thank you! i really hope you're able to find more things that continue this new interest you've discovered in horror as a genre, and honestly i've been considering branching out and reading some myself, so please let me know if you find any you really like!!!!

happy reading, and thank you again, a million times over, for this lovely message <33333

[you can read slasher, aka. if i only could make a deal with god (i'd get him to swap our places) here on ao3! please pay heed to the archive warnings and tags <3]

[butterbabyflapjack]

༄ Gold Gilded Leash

Derek Goffard (The Price of Flesh) x fem!reader

DISCONTINUED.

You really should have killed him when you had the chance.

Once upon a time, there lived an unfortunate woman minding her own business, struggling just to get by. Until one lovely, fateful day, when she just so happened to be at the very wrong place at the very wrong time.

Knocked unconscious. Kidnapped. Auctioned off as property. An item for one lucky bidder to do with whatever they pleased. And her life which was stolen, was traded - for some undisclosed yet assuredly exorbitant price - to one flaxen-haired, gold-blooded monster who paid the top of daddy’s dollars to hunt her down.

It’s funny, looking back.

Right?

It’s funny?

What you’ve been reduced to?

And you thought you had it bad back then.

Tumblr chapter directory: one • two • coming soon...

ao3

Derek belongs to @gatobob

Warning tags: explicit sexual content, forced oral sex, Derek owns you, graphic depictions of violence, obsession, wrath, punishment, yandere, rape/noncon, highly dubious consent, variations of noncon to con, forced orgasm, orgasm denial, kidnapping, escape attempts, bondage, exhibitionism, voyeurism, knifeplay, bloodplay, rough sex, possessive sex, death threats, dead dove: do not eat, sadism, masochism, breathplay, choking, warning: Derek (the price of flesh), Derek might lend you to others, others might steal you for some fun, additional tags to be added as this debauchery continues

CHAPTER ONE: Gold Blooded...

Author's Note: I fully intend to slander this man whilst also paying homage to my inexplicable love for him.

I’m planning on bringing Derek’s brother into this, “Matt” - whom I’m assuming is actually named Matthew, and since I've yet to see his personality fully established I’ll be taking some liberties to make his and Derek’s relationship super toxic and competitive. As for exactly how he’ll behave in this story, what makes him tick, etc. etc… I guess you’ll have to wait and find out~

Please heed the evolving warning tags.

This is to kick things off for a TPOF discord prompt, which is to honor my favorite ending in the game. This is actually my second fav, because my actual fav is perfect just the way it is, I have nothing to add.

Well, actually…

Well shit okay maybe now I’ll have to write about that too.

- ANYWAY -

____________________________________

You don’t remember what happened prior. How you were knocked unconscious, how you were bound and stolen and dragged.

All you remember after the throbbing darkness was that room.

It all started in that dim, octagonal room.

Three windows, each tinted black.

You could barely see the hint of an eldritch glow behind each pane of darkened glass, flicking into life whenever each of its occupants’ voices scratched out from an accompanying speaker overhead; each unseen room beyond pulsing on and off with a different color each time its tenant chose to speak.

Blue. Green.

Red.

“Oh ho~ This is an interesting one!” the cheerful voice of the unseen announcer observed, readying to spout off another question. A list of strange and degrading inquiries you’d already stumbled through a number of, designed - by all appearances - to ‘whet the appetites’ of whomever ended up paying to take a bite. “Are you a virgin?”

You’d been recoiling in on yourself ever since you woke up in this sterile, suffocating place, more and more with every new question asked. But this one really took the cake on the whole ‘what the fuck is happening!?’ scale, taking your thudding heart-rate up a notch with it.

You didn’t want to answer. You don’t know why you did. Maybe because you saw no point in lying? Confused alarum has a way of making it hard to think.

“I…” swallowing against the dryness of your throat, your nervous eyes tore about the room, flicking from one silent, dark window to the next, “...yes.”

A pause, as your answer was digested by those who sought to purchase.

Crimson light glowed into life behind the red window, and with it the sharp, masculine voice of its bidder.

“220.”

Soft blue light flicked behind the darkened room adjacent, with a woman’s voice scoffing through the speaker above the glass.

“Ugh,” she loured, sounding to suppress an eyeroll. “You’re disgusting.”

The red bidder’s wrath was immediate, barked from his speaker, lashing at the walls. “Shove a sock in it bitch!”

“230,” the woman smoothly returned. “You wouldn’t even know what to do with her.”

“If you don’t shut the fuck up I’ll show you first hand! 240!”

You heard the announcer chuckling softly, his amusement somewhat smoothing the tension that was swiftly rising in the room.

“Let’s save our passion for the main event, shall we?" he asked. "And speaking of which… we’ve only one question left for our lovely, special item!” His pause extended only for the length of his unseen smile, as his attention was undeniably redirected from his potential customers to you. “Final question. Who would you like to go home with, sweetheart?”

You stared, nonplussed, from darkened room to darkened room. Staring, as they all stared back. Your fingers curling and uncurling nervously at your sides, scraping at the outsides of your thighs. Your terrified expression barely mirrored back to you upon each hushed plane of glass.

You were alone in standing there, at the center of the octagon, and yet you could feel every pair of eyes watching you. Every person in that room. Waiting. Watching.

You didn't know what to do, hadn't known ever since awakening there. Did it even matter what you said? What you’d been saying? Was there even close to a right answer to anything that would result in your being bought and sold like cattle?

You hadn’t yet determined the answer, if there even was one, when your finger was already tremulously pointing at the room of the current highest bidder; the cocky man in red.

You could still barely comprehend what had happened to you, for you to be standing where you were now; could barely wrap your mind around what was going to happen as a result. But if that man was going to buy you anyway, you might as well try and get on his good side first. You didn’t know what he wanted, but your mind was spinning with horrible, dark ideas.

In truth, he was the last person you wanted to go home with. He seemed impatient, volatile, easily tempted to violence. But you could feel his interest already in your bones. Could feel his eyes scraping over you. The obscured intensity of his presence wrapping fingers round your heart.

Some part of you already knew he wasn’t going to leave this place without you in his pocket. And the smirk in his red-velvet musing seemed to seal the suspicion as truth.

“Ohhhh~?”

The subdued delight which curled his voice bent all your fear in wrong directions.

You were too terrified to hear the bids and bickering which followed. It didn’t matter. In your mind, he’d already won.

“Sold!”

You were knocked unconscious again shortly after that – a sharp jab felt in your ankle that had you seeing double, and once again your world was whisked to darkness.

The next thing you saw was a handsome, chiseled face smirking lightly down at you. Something gritty, like sand, blazing at your back, sticking to your skin. The jewel of a blinding desert sun a halo behind the devilish grin towering over you, his teeth impossibly white against his tanned skin.

Messy blonde hair. Jacket undone. Kohl smeared haphazardly beneath his lower lashes.

He looked excited to see you.

“Wakey wakey…!”

His turquoise eyes edged with harsh amusement at whatever foggy, coming-to expression you barely managed to scrounge together for him – only for your face to twist with pain as he sunk into a crouch, grabbing a rough fistful of your hair, jerking your head up and off the ground enough for you to get a shaky look at your surroundings.

Men in masks, standing in a lazy half-circle in front of you, some holding weapons. You, in nothing but your underwear. And a few more like you – stripped, bound, strewn in the sand, staring about themselves in absolute terror.

Your swift rise in trepidation joined the savage tide of theirs.

“You’re up just in time for the fun~”

Everything that happened next tore past you in a grisly, red-hewn blur. The unfortunate woman bound right beside you, half-crumpled in the sand, singled out by those who brought you there. "First blood," a behemoth man in a lizard mask called it. "It really sets the mood for the rest of them." She was dragged forth by one of her wrenched-back arms as she sobbed and cried and pleaded with them to stop, begging with them not to hurt her.

You saw them crowding around her, the man who bought you angling his knife at her throat.

"Keep begging..."

A man masquerading as a silver jackal stabbed a switchblade in one of her thighs, and her begging seized, clawing out shrilly. Blood in the sand, soaking through with sun-warmed crimson.

You couldn't watch any longer, your stomach twisting so tight it was a wonder you didn't actually throw up. But even with your shaking, with your teary eyes cinched closed, you could still hear them. You could hear everything. How her sobs devolved to senseless, wordless begging. Her screams. The congress of increasingly frenzied breaths and hyenic laughter. The moment mercy at last made her silent.

You were taken to a ledge of cruelty, tossed into its toothy void before you could even process what was happening.

And then those ropes which bound you were sliced through.

You were released, along with those still alive beside you. With nowhere to go but further into the endless, blistering desert sea.

You didn't ask questions. You couldn't even if you'd wanted to.

You struggled off the sand, legs shaking beneath your awkward weight as you made to run - but not before the man who brought you there caught your gaze with a cerulean, soul-piercing smirk.

“Don’t let me find you, rabbit,” he said, seemingly amused, though there was nothing beyond terror about that moment. He seemed to be envisioning something as he eyed you. Something hidden in the shroud of his thoughts. “I’m still hungry.”

His laughter bit at your heels as you stumbled, as you turned, as you ran as far as you could away from him.

Days passed. Sun-drunk days filled with colorful arrays of atrocities you'd rather not recall.

You no longer had the strength to run. You were stumbling blindly, then; skin ragged from the continual beating of the desert heat, with never a cloud to spare you. Your eyes dry, not a tear left to them. Your lips sand-bitten and scorched from lack of water. The constant threat of what might happen to you, of what had happened to everyone else... the constant barrage of adrenaline forcing you, always, toward fight or flight, filling up and shredding through your veins…

It was more than enough to strip your sanity. To leave it hanging by tatters that continually splintered and tore away.

There wasn’t much left. Sanity. Time.

If one of those psychos didn’t kill you first, the heat or lack of water would.

You were going to die out there.

And that’s when he found you.

Again.

'Derek', if that was even his real name. Only, this time…

This time, despite it all, despite everything…

You were a little more prepared.

You’d sunk the dagger in his gut before he really had a chance to stop you. It’s not like he suspected that you’d somehow, miraculously, obtain any kind of weapon out here in the middle of fucking hell.

You’d stumbled back from his complete and utter shock upon sighting the hilt sticking out from beneath his ribs, but not before yanking the knife back out again, unwilling to leave yourself without it. Nearly tripping over yourself with how you couldn’t drag your eyes away from him, his pained gasp and angry breathing filling your ears. From how he uselessly clawed at his freely bleeding wound. The wound you'd just gifted him.

You’d stabbed him. You really did it. And yet, beyond his outrage, his profound disbelief, he was soon to find his usual smirk. Was smirking even then. Gaze half-lidded with the pain, his eyes such a dangerous cut of gemstone that you couldn’t escape them. Held, hunted, snared.

His wrath, his every gritted tremor as he grimaced through the agony, made his eyes glint that much more harshly as they bore like spearheads into yours.

“Oh, rabbit… ” he’d rasply mused, one corner of his lips curling as he watched your faltered steps. “You’d better fucking kill me.”

You couldn’t move. Couldn’t blink. The cogs in your mind unturning.

Something in you balked. Panicked. A spark of fright that made you act without thinking.

You'd turned.

You ran.

You'd left him there, hearing him collapse to his knees behind you. Hoping his wound would end him with every beat of you sprinting across the sand, with every painful heave of your lungs. Praying he'd continue to bleed, that the desert would take what you couldn’t.

You really should have killed him.

____________________________________

Author's Note: If I didn’t pick a theme song for every chapter I’d die

derek goffard , bastard playlist (full disclosure some of these are pure Derek slander because it makes me laugh to think about him singing Money by Cardi b) (also there are not one but ~two~ songs named ‘tantrum’. For reasons.)

[imaginatorofthings]

Hello People Of The Internet! Welcome To My World. Allow Me To Show You Around.

Meet Me!

Hello! I'm ImaginatorOfThings, but you can call me:

Ima

Imagi

Imaginator

Mystic

I use they/she pronouns. I'm not a minor (I'm an adult!), so if that makes you uncomfortable, feel free to block me. I won't be offended.

Additionally! As I'm an adult, there may be suggestive jokes and/or content (nothing fully NSFW, as per my list below of who this blog isn't for), but I will tag accordingly!

Blog Navigation

This blog is mostly for rebloging whatever seems to capture my attention, as well as sharing my thoughts and creative works. I'll tag accordingly.

My writing: #Ima Writes

My art: #Ima Creates

My music: #Ima Tunes (also under #beepbox and #jummbox most of the time)

My thoughts and rambles: #Ima Rambles

My characters: #Ima's Characters

Completed Commissions: #Ima's Commissions

Where Else To Find Me

My Creative Blog: @imaginatorcreates (featuring writing, music, doodles, and whatever crafts I get up to!)

AO3 (all my writing!)

Ko-Fi (feel free to leave a lil' tip!)

Interested in what I do and want me write something for you? Want your own little tune to listen to? I have commissions open!

Other

Feel free to reblog my works and ideas with credit to me, but if you repost, I'll come after your kneecaps.

Help Me Save For My Nursing Education!

Characters Of Note (either with character sheets or search their tags):

Whynn Westwood (and their cousin, Zephyr Westwood!)

AT-1225

Akemi

Jazz

Carwyn

Interaction Guidelines

Who is this space for? Glad you asked!

Most anyone. I love seeing people post art — as I can't draw very well myself —and write about theories and things. Just please be respectful. If you take inspiration from me for whatever reason, please credit me!

Who is this space NOT for? If you identify as anyone below, or wish to discuss any of the topics below with me: Don't talk to me, don't interact with me, you will be blocked on sight.

Problematic groups (you know who you are)

Anti-vaxers

Homophobes, transphobes, etc.

NSFW (I don't need that on my blog)

Politics (I just don't find them interesting or enjoyable to talk about)

People who repost art and other creative works. Y'all are stealing the credit of the original creator, and unless you are given explicit permission, don't repost. This applies to my own works as well.

DISCLAIMER

The topics I write and/or reblog may not be for everyone. Please heed by the tags and warnings I post.

If I end up reblogging or referencing something incorrect or offensive, please let me know politely so I may correct my mistakes. I'm only human.

[mistresspandorawritesthings]

TASS Chapter 14

Take a Sad Song: Chapter 14 is now live on AO3!

Excerpt:

“I bet a concert sounds even better than that.”

“Och, to be sure. Ye’ll get yer chance to hear it live.”

“That would be so cool.” Willie hopped out of the chair and meandered away, back on his mission of snooping and exploring.

Read the tags, heed the tags, they’re there for your protection.

New to Songs About Getting By? You can start with Part 1: This Ain’t A Love Song.

Read Chapter 14 of Take a Sad Song, exclusively on AO3.

Or, start from Chapter 1.

Notes for this chapter are below the cut. May contain spoilers.

Record certification is what they call the system of thresholds for record sales/streams/etc. The thresholds vary a bit from country to country, but they’re typically all named after precious metals or stones (e.g., gold, platinum, diamond). Here’s the wiki page on record certification.

And just for funsies, here’s a list of best selling albums

And best selling singles

Record Players. It had been a long time since I’ve last used a record player, so to jog my memory I found this YouTube video of a player from the 1970s. Seemed a waste not to share it.

[castielsfics]

welcome to @castiel’s fic recs! - as always, please heed ao3 consent and writer's content warnings

navigation:

wing fics

coffee shop/bakery au

college au

high school au

case fics

soulmate au

mermaid au

fake dating

pure smut

time travel

kid fic

reverse verse

dom/sub

a/b/o

misc au

by length:

5k

10k

25k

50k

75k

100k

over 100k

by rating:

G

T

M

E

notes:  - pure smut is subjective, but you know what i mean - kid fic refers to dean/cas having a kid, growing up together will be a separate tag - misc au contains any au that does not fit into a generalized common au category, which will be a LOT of fics  - lengths are general categories and i’ll try to tag as close to the amount as possible (for example 5k will contain anything up to about 8k, then 10k will be 8k to 15k, etc) - i am using the same rating system as ao3 - other things will be tagged that will not be listed here (like firefighter dean) which you can search for using the ‘search tags’ on the desktop theme. another note on professions, for ease of tagging, all teaching jobs will be listed as "professor" and all medical jobs as "doctor" - something i’m sensitive to is non-happy endings so fics with an ending that isn’t entirely happy will be tagged bittersweet

[kingdumbass]

Nobody asked yadda yadda… Here’s a list of spooky and or unsettling fics of mine in honor of Halloween weekend. Please heed the tags listed on ao3 the latter half features noncon, but I tried to list them in order of intensity. (The last three are not for the faint of heart.. dead dove etc.)

All Hallows’ Eve | T | 12.2k | fluff

In which Dean and Cas confess their undying love for one another and decide that maybe this year it couldn't hurt to celebrate Halloween. And what would Halloween be without a few cavities, right?

Lost Boys | T | 2.7k | fluff

(Autistic) Cas is dragged to a Halloween frat party

Like a Thief in the Night | M | 28.6k | creature au

Plagued by nightmares since the death of his mother as a small child, Dean Winchester is no stranger to grief. After the sudden death of his brother and the unexplainable disappearance of Sam’s fiancee Jessica leave Dean reeling, the former detective turns towards alcohol to cope with the loss, but when the news of another missing peron’s case all the way out in Pontiac, Illinois jogs Dean’s memory of an old unsolved case with possible connections to the mysterious note his brother left behind, he feels compelled to pick up where he left off. Though once he rolls into town, he encounters more questions than answers. Namely: what’s real and what’s delusion? And how is the creature from his nightmares tormenting the residents of this small, suburban town?

Silk Flowers | M | 2.8k | creature au

“What are you, then?”

“The same as you are now,” Castiel suggests, “A vampyr.”

Dean awakes in an unfamiliar room with a seemingly indelible hunger and he finds he isn’t alone.

Dirty Words and Other Curses | E | WIP (33.1k so far) | case fic

Team Free Will 2.0 are on a standard hunt when things get a little dicey and Dean lands himself in a bind. While Sam, Cas, and Jack search for Dean, Dean is blissfully unaware of his surroundings, existing instead within a fabricated, strangely familiar reality inside his own mind… Except for one thing. Soon this milk run ends up being a bit more than meets the eye.

Glass Houses | E | 26.5k | serial killer au

Out one night at his usual hunting ground, Castiel finds the challenge he’s been searching for in a attractive stranger named Dean, but before he can make his move, Dean’s gone and someone else has to take his place. Over the coming weeks, he can’t stop thinking about him: about the one that got away. And as it happens, the man from across the bar is relatively easy to hunt down, but what he doesn’t account for are the feelings he begins to develop for him or the fact that Dean Winchester has secrets of his own.

Come Softly to Me | E | 14.8k | demon possession au

The devil comes in threes: An allegory in three parts.

A Shot in the Dark | E | 13.3k | demon dean & crowley alternate canon

Dean’s a demon on the prowl and Crowley’s his glorified babysitter, but when Crowley finally convinces Dean to taste the rainbow, he finds that, above all else, his favorite color is red.

[perseusjackson-jasongrace]

My (Ongoing) Masterlist of Jercy-Content Recs

hello! if you have anything to add to this thread please send me an ask, and ill check it out!

please can i ask that you REBLOG this if you enjoyed it/ found it helpful, so that it can reach more people and they too can be blessed with top tier jercy content

a huge thank you to every single one of these content creators for blessing us with jercy in some form or the other!!

I’m not tagging angst/fluff/etc. or CW/TW here. please heed the content creator’s notes at the beginning of their works

nsfw/explicit is tagged with **

headcanons

soft jercy headcanons by 13headcanons-blog

fic extras and tidbits by melancholic-pigeon

fluffy jercy by squishy831

jercy headcanons by not-even-a-little-beanery

jercy headcanons by derpy-grackson

jercy headcanons by halosiren

nsfw headcanons by takaraphoenix **

jercy headcanons by heyimboredtalktome

fluffy jercy by percyinpanties

jercy headcanons by demigod-dumbasss

Fics

tumblr:

infirmary by ididntwantobeahalfblood

royal jercy au by jasondisgraced-remade-deactivat (the-grace-antheia)

got drunk and hooked up by percyinpanties

roman percy reuniting with jason by percyinpanties

percy stimming by percyinpanties

the best present by gracedpersassonality

um we’re gay? by queerbutstillhere

versatile in bed by percyinpanties

bros giving bjs by percyinpanties **

you’re enough by derpy-grackson

left behind by gracedpersassonality

muse au by ididntwanttobeahalfblood

jercy one shot #4 by punksudaca

happy birthday jason by rasberrylimonade

jercy 9 by takaraphoenix

(and it dies) a million little times by lovingmyselfcore

electric love by percyinpanties

jercy 12 by takarphoenix

jercy 31, 33, 34 by justonemorechapternicercy

goldust by gracedpersassonality

ao3:

the sandwich thief by boombashkas

stranded by aruallz

rip it off by takara_phoenix

warmth by HP_and_PJ_nerd19568

who are you? by UnderTheBedAndInYourHead

need a little laughter by softheartedwolf (undermoonlitstars)

first aid kisses by an orphan account

fake deaths and cereal by neighbourhoodwitch

what’s your name again? by enbyofdionysus ** 

i can hardly breathe by bisexualbarry

blue by percyinpanties

i knew that look dear (eyes always seeking) by demipunk **

the great pumpkin by enbyofdionysus

you are stellar by pythia (melancholic_pigeon) **

who actually cares? part IV (prompts): chapter 19 by goldenempire **

add tears to your coffee (it’s still a little bitter) by bleu_sulfur

exactly who is reassured is unclear by pythia (melancholic_piegon) **

i breathed you in, you filled my lungs by aruallz

but with whom can you sit in water by cold_rain_in_june

liminal space by pythia (melancholic_pigeon)

revenge is a cold steel blade in your lover’s heart by  immortalsimulacrum

this inheritance seems a little fishy by immortalsimulacrum

stellarverse by pythia (melancholic_pigeon)

wanna feel pride and shame by enbyofdionysus **

concession stands and first meetings by mercurialcomet

oh if you only knew what we’ve been up to (i guarantee you’d keep it secret) by cold_rain_in_june **

when i bite that lip come get me too by ashilrak

look what you’ve done to me (your love is a ballad) by anxious_tofu

salted caramel latte, extra sea foam by rubyredketchup

andromeda by aruallz

golden as they come by amperstellar

Fanart

joleanart:

Bi Jercy || Sparring || Prince Jercy || Anne-with-an-E vibes Jercy || Hugs from behind || Kisses || I missed you || sleepy in suits || and their song tells an everlasting tale || ice-skating || captain

kiragenta:

he likes to be tall || carry you in my arms || one kiss please || clingy jason || cheesy pick-up line || stares || statue jason; pt. 2 || in the moment || what it takes to become a god || hercules au || bros being bros || bro that was hilarious

britaisy:

himbo percy, simp jason || highschool au || hugs || punk percy, jock jason || bad boy percy, prep jason

maesae:

pastel ||  bunk beds || feral jason, creature percy || two birds of a feather || the infirmary

pthalomars:

big wet kiss tuesday || take a hint grace || our dream au || hold me || work doodles || another big wet kiss tuesday || bisexual big wet kiss tuesday || rewriting canon || and they were roommates || studying for finals || bloody jercy

semehere:

god percy, prince jason || ancient rome au || ancient greek au || master mistress

others:

Help me comic || Fluffy Jercy || Crop Top Jercy || Shirtless Jercy || Happy Birthday Percy || back to back || glasses vs adhd || winter cuddles || cute jercy || ethereal jercy || underwater kisses || loving looks || at the lake || mornings || merman jercy || because jercy || lazy jercy || bumbling around || kiss me || percy has a cold || the best friend handshake || percy trolling jason ||  ballroom dancing || no homo by cupid || blushing jercy || no homo by ninja || couch cuddles || hercules au || look me in the eye || pokemon jercy || seal percy || you belong with me || stellarverse jercy || fight me || embarassing punishments

Other:

Rumour Has It (jercy tv show/social media au) by mortal-demigods

sugar and cream (coffee shop social media au) by mortal-demigods

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if i have gotten a username/link wrong, or the link is not working, please let me know via asks so that i can fix it as soon as possible. additionally if you do not want your work on this rec list please send me an ask/ personal message and i’ll remove you, no worries. thank you!

accounts mentioned (deactivated accounts were not included// bolded tags not working):

TUMBLR

@13headcanons-blog

@melancholic-pigeon

@squishy831

@not-even-a-little-beanery

@pez-grackson

@halosiren

@ididntwantobeahalfblood

@percyinpanties

@demipunk

@joleanart

@kiragenta

@britaisy

@cindersart

@sarahinara

@markiehh

@sincerelyhecate

@mababwion

@linaisbluepancake

@maesae

@hermesisthebest

@staryns

@nicoryio

@razielim

@merildae

@ezefehl

@zaysria

@aapplebluee

@fanboiarts

@seventhdemigod

@takaraphoenix

@heyimboredtalktome

@gracedpersassonality

@queerbutstillhere

@chaoticseastar

@mortal-demigods

@kyupatatas

@punksudaca

@raspberrylimonade

@keekal

@lovingmyselfcore

@cold-r-ain-in-june

@justonemorechapternicercy

@demigod-dumbasss

@pthalomars

@semehere

AO3

boombashkas

aruallz

HP_and_PJ_nerd19568

UnderTheBedAndInYourHead

softheartedwold (underthemoonlitstars)

neighborhoodwitch

enbyofdionysus

bisexualbarry

GoldenEmpire

Bleu_Sulfur

Pythia (melancholic_pigeon)

cold_rain_in_june

immortalsimulacrum

MercurialComet

rubyredketchup

anxious_tofu

aruallz

amperstellar