#i want a weapon that's forgiving when i fuck up so that it's not aim intensive. so i cant play my babygirl charger its too much effort

[crest-of-gautier]

a short little compilation of some of my splats from the nov 2023 greetings splatfest!

[gintrinsic-writing]

A Flicker in a Distant Timeline

CW: references to violence, loss of a limb, blood.

--

Like this, the King of Evil didn’t look like much—sweating through his robes, hair in disarray, panting through pain and exhaustion alike. He was too weakened to transform, and his baser form—his simple Gerudo body, absent of Demise’s visibly corroding influence—lacked the same petrifying, untouchable presence. Link figured he should tell him so. 

“You reek.”

Ganondorf’s glare was half-ruined by the tears rolling down his face; courtesy of some well-aimed dirt, Link thought smugly. “And you,” Ganondorf managed between breaths, “sound like a dying frog.”

Link barely had enough energy to muster up the indignation that deserved, but he managed. “A frog? That’s the worst you could come up with?” He scoffed, ignoring how much it stung to do so. “Were you even trying?”

“Croak, croak, croak,” Ganondorf griped, waving a hand back and forth. The Triforce of Power shimmered like a kaleidoscope against the back of his hand. “Annoying little wheezes.”

“Oh, forgive me. Some asshole punched me in the throat.”

“Only after another asshole pulled my hair!”

“So what?” Link croaked—ah, dammit, Ganondorf was right. What a miserable day.

“So, hair’s off-limits.”

“Off…” Link paused to stare. He blinked several times for good measure. Only a little blood managed to dribble into his eyes. “It was a fight! To the death!”

“Fated by the deities themselves,” Ganondorf agreed darkly. 

“And you think hair is off-limits?”

“Well, yes.” Ganondorf sneered at Link as if the hero was particularly dense. “We’re not animals.”

“You literally are, you dumb pig,” Link groaned. 

Ganondorf made some weird growling sound, then coughed. “Just you wait,” he grumbled. “As soon as I catch my breath, I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” Link mocked. “You’ll kill me? With what weapon? You couldn’t summon a speck of dust right now.”

Ganondorf curled his lip disdainfully. “As if you’re one to talk. You can’t even get up, can you?”

Link chose that moment to finally admit to himself that he’d been managing his half of the conversation while lying prone on the ground. He was sure the Master Sword was within grasp if he needed it. Probably. “I can move,” he answered loftily, only croaking a little, “whenever I want to.” 

“Sure,” Ganondorf agreed.

“I can.”

“Like I said, sure.”

Link groaned again. Dirt stuck to his lips in a very unheroic way. 

Seconds passed, then Ganondorf heaved another breath. It sounded more significant than the previous ones in some strange and foreboding way. He pushed off his knees with both hands and stood up straight. His spine popped immediately. “Damn the goddesses,” Ganondorf spat, bracing a clawed hand against the small of his back as he resumed his slouch. Link couldn’t help but nod in tired agreement. “And damn Demise!”

That sounded particularly vicious. Link nodded again for solidarity. “Is Demise the reason you’re so fucked up?”

“Yes,” Ganondorf hissed.

“Ah.” What was he supposed to say to that? Something meaningful, probably. “Sucks.”

“Indeed.” 

Something wet fell on Link’s face. Then it happened again. Rain, he thought bitterly. Maybe he’d be lucky enough to drown. “I don’t suppose you’re dying? Spare me the trouble of having to finish this?”

“Unfortunately, no,” Ganondorf grumbled. “You?”

“Also unfortunately no.”

Ganondorf eyed him skeptically. “I thought you’d bleed more when I cut off your hand.”

Ah yeah, that. His right wrist really hurt. “To be honest, me too.” A wave of dizziness washed over Link, which he promptly ignored like he had the last four times. “How did you survive that light magic bomb?”

Ganondorf shook his head. “No fucking idea. Luck, perhaps. I felt my heart stop for a moment.”

“Really? Cool.”

Ganondorf shrugged. 

“So… now what?” Link asked quietly, licking at the raindrops gathering on his upper lip. They tasted like dirt. “You gonna kill me?” Because in all honesty, he couldn’t get up. Trying left his pulse racing and his limbs trembling. He was pretty much useless. 

“I should,” Ganondorf answered just as quietly. 

When nothing else was said, Link grunted. “But…?”

“I’m tired.” Simple, honest, absolute. 

“Yeah,” Link muttered. “Me too.”

With a pained little oof, Ganondorf sat down beside Link, crossing his legs at the ankles and keeping his weight off of his left hip. He fiddled with his many bracelets. Link struggled to read his expression. “Perhaps I’ll feel up to it in a minute,” the King of Evil finally said. 

There was something awkward about that. Something sad. Link decided to do what he did best and make a nuisance of himself. “Did you have to sit so close? I wasn’t lying earlier. You stink. Does deodorant not apply to demon kings?”

“Shut up, worm.” Ganondorf flicked a pebble at him. Somehow, it landed right between Link’s eyes. 

“Ow! Fuck you.”

“In your dreams.”

Link gagged, loudly. The effect was ruined when it started to rain in earnest. Before he could think of the best way to complain, Ganondorf threw out a hand, and tendrils of dark magic formed a barrier above them. 

“Oh,” Link said lamely. “Guess you’re not out of juice after all.”

Ganondorf frowned up at the barrier. “It’ll last a minute if we’re lucky.”

“Then what?”

“Then we’ll get wet. Maybe you’ll be able to walk by then, assuming you don’t bleed out in the meantime.”

A pretty bold assumption, all things considered, but Link wasn’t going to say so. He’d take what he could get. “And then?” he pressed. 

Ganondorf clearly held back the first answer that came to mind. He pursed his lips before saying, “Your choice. I got us this far.”

Link couldn’t help it—he laughed. It sounded pretty terrible. “Yeah,” he wheezed after several seconds. “Yeah, I guess so. Okay.”

Ganondorf shook his head in apparent resignation. The barrier began to flicker. 

[latelyanobsession]

Choice Encounters

summary your relationship with billy was rocky. on and off. hot and cold. you hadn’t looked to steve so much as an option but more as a convenient place holder. but now you’ve quickly found yourself in a heated situation. their competitiveness threatening to pull you in opposite directions.

warnings cursing, smut™, lil bit angsty, teen-dream drama, degradation, praise, competitive/opposing dynamics, spicy

word count 2,927

note i tried to look through some of the existing threesome fics with this pairing a. there’s not a lot of them (disappointment), and b. the running dynamic in a lot of them tends to pair billy and steve in a mutual partnership aimed at the reader a lot of the time, but i really like the competitive streak they both have so... reading this request i just really wanted to lean into that hard. like painfully so... and it made me like gleefully think of the tiktok audios where the man says “don’t look at him. why’re you looking at him? look at me. he’s not gonna help you...” and just think of billy with that mentality during this kind of interaction. prompt - “So Imagine This you and Billy had a toxic relationship and when y’all have a break you fucked Steve to piss them off and he ends up finding out and he gets mad so he confronts Steve and he says meet me at my house at seven and he tells you meet him at the same time and you know what happens (Degrading if you can from billy and praise kink from Steve)”

As always any feedback is much appreciated. Thanks for reading!

It had been a week. 

A week since the fighting match erupted in the halls. All eyes on the pair of you.

Billy burning rubber out of the school parking lot, leaving you standing there the victor.

Feeling heartsick and guilty. Proud and powerful. Awful beyond recognition. 

You wanted the earth to swallow you whole.

You swore you had no idea why you put up with his tirades time after time.

Maybe it was because you loved him, you weren’t entirely sure that was the case on some days...

But this time you pushed back, bringing your own words to this knife fight.

Like a seawall he crashed upon you. Trying to drown and wash you out with the tide.

You stood through it, gritting your teeth. And you hit. Low. Lower than you probably should have.

You knew better than to weaponize such things against him, but you were tired of being the punching bag.

Of being whittled away and worn down with each storm.

You bit back, and now you were paying for it.

You were miserable. Listless and lonely.

If you weren’t so stubborn you’d have buckled immediately and run to apologize. 

But every time you’d see him in the hall, longingly your eyes would meet for a fleeting moment, only for your resolve to rekindle.

The anger swelling in your chest, cheeks heating, as you stalked away.

You’d sooner die before he’d see you grovel for forgiveness. But that didn’t change how much you missed him.

How much you longed to be back in his arms. Feeling his lips upon yours.

You supposed it was a momentary lapse in judgment. 

Your mind consumed by thoughts of both avoidance and yearning for Billy that made you say ‘yes’.

As you found yourself sitting in Steve Harrington’s passenger seat, having agreed to come over and study for a calculus test.

His house was huge but impersonal. Cold and quiet. Not a single object out of place.

It was nothing like Billy’s place.

Sitting on his bed, you aimlessly scribbled out another equation. Nothing was sticking in your head.

Pinching your nose you tossed down your pencil in frustration.

“None of this shit makes any sense!” you grumbled impatiently.

“Which part?” Steve brought over his notes from the desk and sat next to you.

“This... all of it. I don’t know.” you wanted to rip the page out of your notebook and start all over.

Looking over your work, Steve chewed the end of his pencil in thought.

“I think you messed up here...” he pointed to the ‘x’ further up in the equation.

You followed his finger, it still made no sense. You had pretty much given up on passing this class with anything more than a C.

“God I hate math...” you huffed running the eraser through the equation.

Steve chuckled. “Me too.”

He looked at you. Your eyes meeting.

That big dopey grin on his face... and you just couldn’t help yourself.

You kissed him. 

The textbooks were quickly abandoned to the floor. Along with your clothes.

And for the first time in over a week, Billy was no longer on your mind.

It was amazingly freeing. And surprisingly you didn’t feel nearly as guilty as you thought you should about the whole ordeal.

A few days later you were even smiling. Standing at your locker putting away your books when a loud bang on the row of lockers startled you half out of your skin.

“Jesus!” you dropped the book in your hand.

Peering around your locker door you met Billy’s gaze blazing into you.

You steeled yourself.

“What do you want?” you sniped, picking up your book and dusting it off.

He wriggled his nose in annoyance, as if he was still carefully selecting the words he wanted to say.

“I want you over tonight.” he demanded.

“And I want to be Miss America.” you quipped in irritation, closing your locker to walk away.

He clamped a hand around your wrist, reigning you in close.

“This isn’t a fuckin’ debate.” he warned, “be there by seven.”

You searched his eyes, it wasn’t entirely clear if this was an invitation to make up or if it was a ham-handed attempt to apologize. 

But what you did know was that you didn’t dare push your luck and skip out. 

“Ok. I’ll be there.... now are you gonna let me go or do you want to come with to Home Ec?” you rattled your wrist feebly.

He let go of you, watching you through furrowed brows until you disappeared into your classroom.

Out on the basketball court Billy gave Steve one of the hardest practice runs he’d had in ages. 

Ignoring the coach’s whistle several times when shouldering him out and hovering in at close range to steal the ball from the offense.

He brazenly tripped Steve, stealing the ball to pass to Tommy. 

Leaning in he innocently offered Steve his hand.

Steve initially didn’t take it, he’d learned this lesson before in the fall. 

The coach blew the whistle. Practice was over.

Billy’s hand was still outstretched, the game was over. Maybe it was safe.

He took it, Billy gripping him harshly and dragging him in close so only Steve would hear him.

“You and I need to chat, Pretty Boy. My place at seven.” 

He carelessly tossed Steve back to the ground, stepping over him and heading for the locker room.

You sat in your driveway idling. You didn’t want to go. It occurred to you that maybe there was another reason he wanted you over... and it wouldn’t be a pleasant one.

Did he know?

How could he have known? He’d been avoiding you all week.

Dread was sinking into your veins as you backed down the driveway and crawled your way to Cherry Street. Maybe if you went so slowly he wouldn’t be there when you arrived.

No such luck.

The camaro was on the curb when you got there.

There was another car. Odd. Billy never had other company when you were over.

It was just the two of you.

You squinted, but couldn’t make out the make or color in the dark.

“Ya gonna take all night?!” he barked at you from the open door.

You coyly sidled your way up to the porch. Hands tucked behind your back.

Cigarette nestled between his lips, he looked at you impatiently.

“Yer late.” he snapped.

“Sorry.”

He snorted, taking in a puff as you passed inside, ducking under his arm.

Walking into his bedroom, you froze mid-step.

Steve was sitting on his couch, thumbing through a book. A discontented look on his face.

Looking up his eyes softened as they met yours.

Oh... he knew alright. And your ass was grass.

Turning on your heels, you walked right into a hard chest.

“And just where’dya think yer goin’?” Billy’s large hands clasping both of your arms.

“H-home...” you said trying to wiggle free, avoiding his eyes.

“Not a chance” he snarled.

Gripping you under the chin, he forced your eyes up. Blowing smoke in your your face, making you cough.

“Little birdy told me ya’ve been busy this week.” he spoke in a low tone.

“Oh...?” you asked dumbly. 

You were in for it. But .... why was Steve here? And why was he still breathing?

His hold tightened, growing impatient.

“Don’t toy with me, slut!” your eyes shot wide, washing over his features.

A small smirk was growing at the edge of his lips, cigarette dangling.

Was this some sort of game you hadn’t been told about?

You looked at Steve questioningly, he looked concerned, hands fisted in the cushion. But he was far from intervening.

“Don’t look at him!” Billy shook you, “Why’re you looking at him?” 

“Look at me.” the deep timbre of his voice turned sickly sweet. “He’s not gonna help you.”

You swallowed, your throat running dry. Your mind was running wild. 

“I was...” you answered cautiously.

“With who, slut?” Billy coaxed, his grip on your arm loosening.

“Steve” you said barely above a whisper.

You went to look at Steve, only to have your gaze dragged back to Billy.

His stare was searing. Drawing heat to your core, your cheeks flushing.

“What was that?” he taunted, leaning in.

“S-steve.” you squeaked out.

He nodded in acknowledgment, releasing you. Plucking his cigarette from his lips to hold.

“I dunno.” he tutted, “this whole situation...I dunno... with Harrington...?” 

He looked at you both.

He waved his hand in a nonchalant gesture, pulling a short draw off his smoke.

“I leave ya alone for a week and I find out yer sleepin’ around...with him” he shot you a strict look.

You stared at the floor, bashfully. 

Stamping out his cig in the ashtray, Billy chuckled.

“Can’t last a week without me? What. A. Little. Slut!” he enunciated the last words.

Steve rose from his position on the couch, coming to your aid.

“Billy that’s enough!”

Billy smiled darkly, tongue darting out and licking his lips.

“What’s this Harrington? Gonna steal my girl out from under me?” he laughed, closing in the space between you.

The room was getting hot. The atmosphere shifting. Electrifying and dangerous.

Billy pressed you up against Steve’s chest. Steve protectively wrapping an arm around your waist.

Billy looked you over with a predatory gaze.

“Whadd’ya think sweetheart?” he ran a finger over your lips, “Wanna see who yer the bigger slut for?”

Steve attempted to protest, but chewed his lip heavily when you tilted your head back locking eyes with him.

Big doe eyes, hooded and lust blown. Looking up at him pleadingly.

“You sure?” he asked. You nodded enthusiastically. 

“Yes.” you breathed, desperately.

He was sold.

Ducking his head he pulled you into a hot kiss, hands playing with the hem of your shirt.

“Such a dirty girl!” Billy exclaimed, shutting the door watching you two start in.

It wasn’t long before he pushed his way in, tugging your shirt up over your head.

Stealing your lips away from Steve in the moment, Billy pulled a moan from you as he bit your lower lip harshly. Forcing his tongue inside your mouth. 

Steve huffed in irritation at your absence, running soft open mouthed kisses along the length of your neck as he busied his hands with the clasp of your bra.

Sliding it from your shoulders, a hand coming up to claim your breast. Fingers deftly pinching and rolling the sensitive nipple to a hardened peak before shifting their attention to the other one.

You whined out at the contact, rolling your hips back against him.

He hissed softly. The friction of your movements brushing his hardening arousal at just the right angle.

Prying Billy out of his white button up, he quickly peeled you out of your shorts. Taking your panties along with them in one swift motion.

Steve ripped his polo off trying to catch up, stealing a small kiss from you in the process.

Hooking your leg over his shoulder, Billy looked up at you fiendishly. You heart racing, as he pressed his face to your sex. 

You leaned your weight into Steve’s torso for support, his hands wandering across the soft skin of your stomach.

Billy’s tongue ran over your clit in flat, harsh stripes, paired with intermittent teasing nips. 

“Look at you...” he teased, sliding a finger to just the first knuckle inside of you.

He slapped your pussy, making you cry out. Steve placing curative kisses across the width of your shoulder.

“Only whores are this wet...” he droned on, sinking his finger in deeper and twisting it.

Your knees buckled, Steve steadying you as Billy’s lips returned to your mound.

Your head falling back to Steve’s shoulder, his lips meeting yours once more as Billy worked you mercilessly. Adding a second finger, drawing forward and curling them against that pad of muscle inside you.

Your toes were curling, back arching to meet his every caress, you were coming apart at the seams.

“Billy...” you whined pathetically.

“Not yet.” he warned darkly, pressing his thick tongue against your clit and dragging it as slowly as possible from bottom to top.

“Billy!” you pressed urgently, Steve was supporting nearly all of your weight. You felt near collapse.

He pulled off. Swatting your swollen cunt. 

Your muscles were so close to spasming, your hips starting to jut in small involuntary motions.

Billy was enraged.

Snatching you from Steve’s grasp, he pulled you to his face.

“I said not yet slut.” he growled, hand clasping around your neck.

You nodded taking a deep breath, trying your best to settle out. It was hard.

He held you there, studying your expression as you brought yourself back under better control.

Satisfied he picked you up and tossed you onto his bed. 

Shedding his jeans he crawled on top of you.

“Over the edge...” he instructed, as Billy backed you across the bed until your head hung over the foot of it.

“Ya comin’ Harrington?” he ground out, waving a hand. Steve gaping at your interaction with the blonde.

Did you always like it this rough? He never would have guessed it from how your first time with him had been.

Stepping out of his remaining clothes, Steve came to the foot of the bed.

You rested your hands against his thighs, stroking the skin with your thumbs.

He looked down at you, his cock twitching. You had the most pleasant of smiles on your face.

He couldn’t believe it.

Running his cock through your folds, Billy teased his head at your entrance.

“Remember slut... focus.” he pushed into you, angling your hips up and draping your legs over his shoulders.

You keened loudly as he bottomed out, your eyes falling out of focus as your fingers dug into Steve’s thighs.

Billy slapped your breasts, several strokes into you and Steve was still unattended.

“What did I just say?” Billy warned, snapping his hips, curls bouncing.

Nodding, you tilted your head back off the edge of the bed, opening your mouth.

Tentatively, Steve brought his dick to your waiting mouth.

“Fuuuuuck” he huffed as your lips wrapped around him, pulling him in inch by inch.

You let your jaw fall slack, as Steve set his own pace gently thrusting his length down your throat.

“That’s a good girl.” he purred, his hand clasping over top of yours on his thigh.

“Fuckin’ slut” Billy interjected, hand pulling your hips closer.

“Just look at you. Split open on two cocks.” his pace was picking up.

With each thrust he was driving you up against Steve’s cock. Sending him deeper down your throat.

“Nasty lil slut. You really like this... don’t ya?” Billy growled, hitting that spot inside you.

You moaned out, sending Steve’s heading rolling back.

“G-god... baby!” his hips stuttered at the feeling of hitting the back of your throat. Trying your best to suppress your gag, making the squeeze all the tighter as he thrust.

You weren’t going to last much longer, reaching out with your one free hand, you futilely scraped at Billy’s stomach. Words not at your disposal.

“What’s that?” Billy chided, “gettin close?”

You pressed your hand flat against him, trying to ward him off. It was coming hard and fast. You weren’t going to keep it away this time.

His pace was becoming bruising. Each connection reaching your cervix, drawing muffled screams from your throat and spurring curses and blessings to tumble from Steve’s lips.

“S’okay baby. Yer doin so good for me...” Steve was cradling the back of your neck as his thrusts grew more erratic.

Billy smirked, feeling you begin to pulse around him. His own end coming soon. He knew the ultimate way to win.

Freeing a hand, he snaked it between your bodies, pressing his thumb roughly against your clit.

You were already on the cliff’s edge but boy was he going to give you one hell of a shove.

With the pressure of his finger, he almost entirely withdrew only to slam back inside you. Hitting your cervix with a bruising impact. 

Billy threw his head forward, grinding into you. His climax hitting, filling you with his seed.

You screamed, back arching and muscles locking out. You did all that you could to prevent from hurting Steve. Wrapping your lips over your teeth as your orgasm hit you and your jaw clenched.

“Shit! Shhhhiiiiiitttt!” Steve groaned, your mouth becoming tighter than a vice as his own high hit, the head of his cock secured against your tongue.

A lewd moan falling from his lips as he pulsed, thick spurts of cum squirting down your throat. You choked trying to accommodate the load.

After a few more moments your body relaxed, Steve pulling himself free. 

“I’m so sorry...” you sputtered, breathlessly.

“It’s ok....” Steve heaved, brushing a finger over your cheek, “wasn’t your fault....” 

He glared over at Billy, still lazily seated inside you. A smug expression on his face.

Pulling out, Billy threw his legs over the side of the bed and reached for the pack of cigarettes, pulling the zippo off the nightstand.

You weren’t entirely sure if you could trust yourself to move just yet.

The lighter clicked shut, the smell of tobacco entering the air.

“Well sweetheart?” Billy thrummed, exhaling.

Rolling on your side you looked at him, “Hmmm?”

“Which one?” he pressed motioning to himself and then Steve.

You grimaced.

You didn’t think he was being serious.

“Who fucked ya better?” he cooed, running a hand up your leg.

[bonezone44]

Muddy Waters, pt 5. (18+)

'Webbing'

Ezra x F!Reader x Joel Miller

Summary: A brief look into Joel’s past with Tess and his current feelings about you. Joel explains the “situation” to Ellie. You have a fantasy about Joel before another argument with Ezra.

Word Count: 4,6k

(story masterlist) (main masterlist)

tags: NSFW 18+. Intuitive!Reader. Afab!Reader (she/they). Southern!Reader. Established Ezra x F!Reader. Polyam. No use of Y/N.

This Chapter: implied p-in-v, pillow-humping (f), dirty talk

Author's Note: I'm back, baby! I love writing this fucking story. I just needed the holiday break.

+++++++

Joel couldn’t feel a thing. Couldn’t conjure the appropriate sensation.

His body was there and all pieces were accounted for. All his nerve endings were functioning properly–a little too properly if you asked the growing soreness in his calves and knees. And he knew he should feel something. He should feel a heated tug and pull and burning soulful ache. He should feel his whole body sparking and warming and melting into the woman in his lap.

But when Tess started kissing him, he felt nothing. He could recognize the presence of her wet lips and tongue against his own. He acknowledged the weight of her body resting on his legs and her skin pressing into his chest. He was aware of her. He was aware of the contact being made between their bodies.

And he knew he should feel something. Anything. He knew it wasn’t the liquor and pills–the man was stone cold sober. He knew he owed her his life, his protection, his every waking moment.

This was Tess, of all people. She was so beautiful and patient and kind. She was clever. She understood him and his temper. Understood the rawness of his hurt. She knew how to guide him when he turned volcanic. She knew how to aim his fire.

She took all the thoughts and responsibilities away from Joel. She allowed him to be a mindless weapon. Allowed him to be nothing but the shell of a man–heart and innards done ripped out at the loss of his whole world, his daughter, his Sarah.

Joel’s body reacted naturally to Tess’ hand around his length, growing hard in her grip. He tried to focus on it–focus on what little warmth there was left inside him, searching for a thought or memory to stroke the fires on his own. He tried to feel for Tess the way she wanted him to–the way he knew she deserved.

And goddamnit.

Tess deserved anything and everything for putting up with Joel’s ungrateful ass. She deserved to be cherished and attended to. Deserved to be worshiped and adored for the forgiving patience she gave to Joel’s relentless ire.

Tess deserved the whole world.

But Joel couldn’t find it within himself to give it to her.

He could give her this, though. He would let her climb on top of him and take whatever she wanted for however long she wanted it. He would watch her as she bounced in his lap. He would tug her nipples and suck her skin. He would thrust up into her and meet her rhythm–play with her clit when she got close.

There was love–yes. He loved her. He cared for her deeply. He was comfortable, too. He had no qualms about sharing his body with her. He had no problems giving her the powerful releases she needed to clear her mind and be at ease.

But he couldn’t find a spark to ignite to truly desire her.

And he fucking hated himself for it.

On top of all the other failures that piled up over time.

And when she was done taking what she wanted, he would pour himself a drink.

To wash down all the vile shame he felt for not wanting her back.

+++++

Joel had regrets with you already and he was steadily chewing on them.

He had been so cocky when you came over that first night. He felt fired up like some stud bull, luring away a married woman from her Less-Than-Man. He felt like the height of power and wanted to rub it in Ezra’s pathetic face. Wanted to make him feel like some sad little boy who didn’t know what the Big & Mighty Joel was capable of stealing from him.

God, he was so embarrassed.

‘Cause that’s not what Joel wanted. That’s not how Joel really felt deep down inside. A part of him got off on cuckolding Ezra, sure. But it was a superficial fantasy. A friction founded on a flat perspective of simple roles. Like you were all cartoon characters. Never growing, never changing, repeating the same things episode after episode.

And that hadn’t been what drew Joel to you.

You drew Joel to you.

Your eyes, your skin, your voice. The way you walked and talked and flirted. Your accent–Goddamn!--he could listen to you talk all day. It was your smile and laughter, too. The way your whole body lit up like a Christmas tree when you were happy or amused. Flashing and sparkling and shining bright.

And when he saw you in the toolshed and he saw your sunniness had started to burn, he put an end to it right away. He had enough voices in his head lashing out and whipping him. He didn’t need to introduce another.

But then… you listened. You stayed. You didn’t spout off and go stomping away.

You respected his request immediately.

It warmed something deep and forgotten in his chest. That you wanted him enough–trusted him enough–to acquiesce. It was like you were dancing all over again, alone in his living room, and moving the way his body asked you to.

Shit.

Every time he was with you, he was always remembering one thing and forgetting another. With you, he forgot about the past twenty years of pain and suffering and all his buried stories. He forgot about the ease with which he could pull a trigger, throw a punch, beat the light out of someone’s eyes till they were limp mounds of flesh with blood pooling around them.

He also forgot about Ellie and his new life with her and her ability to come and go through the house as she pleased (what the hell was he thinking fooling around with you in the kitchen of all places?). He forgot about Tommy and Maria and their newborn son, Mateo.

And to top it all off with a shiny little cherry, he had forgotten why he went to the toolshed in the first place. He was all distracted by the thought of having a hidden moment alone with you, aching to get close and touch your skin and feel the good he felt in your presence.

And then,

With sprinkles, he had forgotten there was a fucking window in the back of the General Store–even if the blinds were always down and closed.

And…

Well…

He figured you had forgotten about that, too.

Joel needed to get his shit together and he knew it. He knew he needed to stop worrying about getting his dick wet in some other man’s wife and take care of his own fucking family.

But…

God, forgetting felt so fucking good. It felt so good to forget two hazy decades of liquor, pills, and violence. It felt so good to not think about all the repairs and maintenance due and to sit and glow by your side. It felt so good to be romantic and tender and affectionate. And to feel sexual desire for someone and have them mirror it right back–hungry, aching, and eager.

Fuck.

Joel thought that part of him was long dead. Dead and buried with the cartilage in his knees.

But you revived it somehow. You inspired a chase in him through your ever-shifting maze. Forced him to redevelop his heart-racing hyperfocus. The more you reacted, the more he figured you out. The more you softened to him, the more he defined your edges and angles.

He hadn’t understood his curiosity in the beginning. It had felt like a grating pull in your direction. But instead of ire at the end of the rope, there was ivy–blooming and expanding through him like lush summer overgrowth. As if your fluid presence quenched his arid earth.

He wasn’t a desert, as he had thought–unable to absorb rushing, flooding waters.

He was rich soil.

Patient and waiting.

Waiting for someone like you.

And even though he felt like some stupid, forgetful piece of shit, he had no doubt that he could make the two of you work. He meant it when he said he didn’t give a shit about the people in Jackson. They were all background noise to him.

But he did care about his family. He cared deeply about Tommy and Maria and little Mateo. And he cared exponentially about Ellie.

And when Ellie came home talking about how she heard from someone who heard from someone else that he had been fooling around with you, Joel had to provide her some kind of answer. Mid-thought. Mid-chew.

Joel threw his hand up in a huff. He was sitting at the kitchen table, slouched in his chair and ruminating when Ellie interrupted him.

"But that's not true, right? Isn't that like… cheating?" Ellie asked, seemingly fearing his answer.

He ran his fingers through his hair, off guard and unprepared. "It's not cheating if everybody knows and is… okay with it." 

"Oh." She seemed relieved. She tilted her head and hummed. "But I thought a couple was only two." She narrowed her eyes at Joel. 

"Well, you know, Ellie, uhh…" He was digging around in his brain for the right words. Grasping for whatever he could. He echoed your sentiments. "You don't have to pick just one. If you don't want to. If… everybody is okay with it."

Her face lit up in surprise. "You don't have to pick?" Her eyes went off to some distant thought. "You can have… both?"

"If it's okay with everyone," Joel added. Not like he had spoken to Ezra about you before all of this … happened, exactly. He worked his jaw, clenched his fist–rubbing some invisible scuff on the table. 

Ellie hummed–pleased, satisfied. She walked over to the cabinet, retrieving a glass for herself before filling it in the sink. She stopped.

“And how did you know she liked you back?” She asked over her shoulder. “How did you know she'd say yes?”

Joel shrugged with a smile. “I didn't really. But I had a feeling in my gut, you know? A real strong feeling that she would, but …I didn't know for sure.” He rubbed his palms together before opening them back up wide. “I've been wrong before.”

Ellie turned around. Pursed her lips. “And you weren't like… scared?”

Joel had had quite a bit of liquid courage that night. And he didn't want Ellie to think that that was a good choice to make when dealing with sensitive matters such as these. He imagined it would have gone quite differently if he had been sober. "Part of me was scared, yeah.” He nodded. “Another part of me figured it was worth the risk."

"You weren't scared that like… you'd stop being friends… if she said no?"

Joel then realized that Ellie was speaking on a personal nature. He chose his words with care. "There was that risk, yeah. But you gotta think…” He sighed. “Well you gotta think about a lotta things, really. Whether it's worth losing. Whether it's worth speaking up.” He started shaking his head to emphasize his point. “‘Cause it changes… everything.” He said with his brows high and his eyes wide. “Changes how you see each other. Changes how you talk to each other, you know, and uhh…. Changes how you see yourself, too."

Ellie nodded, staring off into a distant memory in her mind. "Yeah, yeah it does." She sighed. She drank a sip of water, and nodded down at her glass. When she looked back up, she was smiling. "I'm proud of you, Joel," she said, squaring her shoulders. 

“For what?”

“For goin’ for it, dude!” She cheered. She put her hand on her hip and shook her head with a grin. “Didn’t know ya had it in ya.”

Joel rolled his eyes and sighed, fighting back a smile. “Go… get ready for dinner,” he said, dismissing her with his hand.

Now, Joel was exhausted. He had had a long day of repairs and his legs were sore and aching from his knees all the way down to his toes. His lower back was tight and burning. He felt a new callous developing on the curve of his right thumb. His eyes were dry and itchy and he was so hungry that his stomach was starting to eat itself. The brief moment he had had with you in the morning had his mind chewing more than his mouth could, which led to him skipping lunch. 

All he wanted to do for the remainder of the evening was have a nice dinner with his family at the dining hall and then go right back home to sleep, spread out long and alone in his big, comfortable bed.

And yet those plans quickly changed when he and Ellie stepped out the front door of their house and into the cooling sunset air. A second wind of energy gusted itself through Joel, awakening his body and mind all at once, when he met the figure standing on his porch.

It was Ezra. His hands were casually tucked into the front pockets of his jeans. He wore a long-sleeved black thermal and his short-cropped hair was damp. At first Joel thought the man was sweating–but the smell of soap radiating from Ezra told him otherwise.

“Good evening, Ellie,” he said cheerfully as she stood frozen in place. He looked up. “Joel.”

“Ezra,” said Joel, standing tall and crossing his arms. All emotion had dropped from his face.

“May I have a word with you, Joel? If you would be so kind.” Ezra spoke softly, casually.

Joel released a breath of hot air from his nostrils. He turned to Ellie. “I’ll meet you there in a minute.”

Ellie’s mouth went tight–her eyebrows high on her forehead.

He sighed and relaxed his posture. “It’s fine. Just go,” he stressed with a nod, standing firm until she huffed and began making her way to the dining hall.

Joel glanced up and down the alley in front of his house before stepping out of the doorway and allowing Ezra inside.

Joel followed on his heels. He flicked the light switch, illuminating two lamps on opposite ends of the living room, and closed the door behind him.

+++++

You hadn’t been gone from the apartment for more than an hour and Ezra had already fallen asleep on the couch where you left him. His book had fallen to the floor. His jaw was slack. His eyes shut tight. And the head of his cock was poking out the top of his boxer briefs. Semen drying on his belly. 

You wanted to be angry, and part of you was, but a larger part of you was amused. Tickled to the core, in fact, as you swiftly ran to the bedroom to scream laughter into a pillow. God, Ezra was such a teenage boy sometimes. Didn’t he know the door wasn’t locked?! Anybody could have walked in and seen him like that! Though you did forget to grab your key when you stomped out that morning, so it was probably for the best.

You couldn’t wait to wake up Ezra and tell him about his little Kodak moment.

You sighed with your face still in the pillow.

Why couldn’t Ezra grow up with you? You were so proud of yourself for putting an end to the hate-fucking, no matter how disappointed Ezra looked when you had the talk. But you hated angry sex. It got you all confused. Anger was supposed to be a bad emotion. It was supposed to be kept quiet and under control. It wasn’t supposed to be used against your partner in mutual contrition. 

Jackson was supposed to change things for the both of you. It was supposed to be a place of peace. You weren’t supposed to be angry anymore anyway. You were supposed to be happy and content for your newfound safety. You were supposed to be grateful you didn’t have to fight off infected or FEDRA or that fucking rat in Memphis who saw your teary-eyed kindness for the manipulation it truly was that one time. 

You were tired of living sloppy and lounging around every day. You were ready to be a woman. A real woman. A real, grown woman.

Maybe that’s why you liked Joel so much. 

Joel Miller was a man.

He was always scowling about something. Stomping around town in his work boots like he was always on the job. He was quiet, too. A whole world of stories and memories inside of him that were itching to come out. And he was structured. Reliable. And he didn’t deal with anybody’s nonsense–not even yours. 

God, it turned you on.

Sometimes dealing with Ezra was like playing tug-of-war: You two would start arguing and lashing out, tugging the rope back and forth until one of you gave in. More recently, though, Ezra stopped tugging as much as he used to. He would hold the rope in his hand with a smile on his face while you were at the other end, yanking and wrenching with your heels dug in the dirt, going wild with fury.

With Joel, when you lashed out at him that morning, it was like you were yanking on the rope again. But instead of tugging back or treating you with condescension, he dropped his end entirely. Let you fall on your ass. Because Joel didn’t wanna play games. He didn’t want to start an angry chain reaction that led to more frustration and upset. 

It set you free. Knocked something inside of you back into place.

You loved it. You loved the way he detached. The way he refused to give in, feed into your emotions or try to fix them. The way he stood there patiently, waiting for you to recover and express what was really bothering you.

It made you want him even more.

You wanted his hands all over your body. His pouty lips all over your skin. You wanted his arms wrapped around you, holding you tight. 

You moved your pillow next to you and kissed it, pretending it was Joel.

Your face went hot with shame. 

This was silly. Stupid. 

Childish, even.

Ezra was in the next room. If you wanted to have sex, you should just wake him up and get on with it.

But in that moment, the thought of Ezra disgusted you. You didn’t want to have sex with some gross teenage boy. 

Because you…

You were a woman. And you wanted to have sex with a big, strong man. 

And since Ezra was sleeping pretty heavily, you decided to indulge yourself. 

You got up from your reclined position and brought your pillow between your thighs, imagining Joel beneath you in his green flannel and dark blue denim jeans. An eager scowl on his face. You glided your hands upward on the bed sheets, pretending it was his warm, heavy torso. You cradled the air, pretending to hold his face in your hands as you leaned in to kiss his puckered up lips. Your hips began to move back and forth of their own accord, your body warming up to his imaginary touch. You felt so connected to him in that moment that you knew, you swore up and down to yourself that he had to be thinking about you, too. Right at the exact moment that you were. 

He just had to be across town, working alone in an unfinished house, his body overheating with desire. He just had to be too overcome by his thoughts of you that he was hiding in a corner and jerking himself off–needy with his face on fire.

Nothing else would explain how you felt so magnetically horny–so locked into your fantasy that there was nothing holding you back. You were grinding your clothed clit against the soft pressure of the pillow, aching for something to fill you up inside. You recalled that night on his kitchen table, the feel of his hard cock pressed against you. You felt your cunt clench around nothingness again and again–wishing it could suck something big and thick in it. But not just any something–Joel’s something. Joel’s big something that made your mouth water and you hadn’t even tasted it, yet. 

Which made you all the more thirsty.

You knew you were a sight–hunched over and humping your own pillow. You imagined Joel walking in and finding you, desperate, horny, and alone. And he would stomp over with a desperate look of his own saying, “Darlin’, please. Come ride this cock if you need somethin’.” 

“Fuck yeah, baby,” you whispered aloud. You’d ride that man’s cock day and night if he asked you to. 

You licked the bed sheet, pretending to lick into his mouth. Pretending to taste that whiskey all over again. Your hips continued to move steadily. Fire building slowly inside of you.

You needed this. Needed to feel loved on and wanted all over. Needed to love on yourself in a way that maybe someone else could love you, too. 

You imagined him thrusting up into you, too needy for his own release to make you do all the work. In your mind, his brows were furrowed and his teeth clenched tight as he filled your ears with promises and filth.

“Leave that boy behind, darlin. Let a real man take care o’ you.”

“Is that what you needed, darlin? You needed my big cock inside o’ you?”

“Fuck, that pussy’s good. That pussy’s all mine, ain’t she? Ain’t she?”

You started riding the pillow faster, harder, desperate for enough pressure to take you over the edge. It wouldn’t take much with how lost you were in the fantasy–as if he was really in the room with you. Beneath you. Touching you and talking to you. Giving you everything you could ever want.

You came with a low moan, thighs clenching around your pillow. You slowly blinked and looked around at the bedsheets and the empty wall above your headboard. It was quiet. The noise of town outside was barely audible through the small triangle window above your dresser. There were sounds coming from Ezra in the living room, either.

You sighed and relaxed, feeling satisfied and dreamy-eyed. You rolled onto your back, thinking fondly of Joel, until you fell asleep.

Ezra woke you up a few hours later. He rolled up the wet towel from his shower and whipped you in the ass with it while you lied on the bed.

You woke up with a yelp.

“What?” you slurred. “What time is it?”

“Time for dinner, my divine angel,” he grinned and sat next to you on the bed. He wrapped the towel around his neck. He was already dressed and ready for his day. Or night, rather.

“Stop whippin me in the ass, you asshole,” you groaned with a smile.

“Stop having a succulent, whippable ass,” he said before reaching out and squeezing one cheek in his hand. He bit his bottom lip, eyes going hazy with desire.

You laughed into your pillow. You propped your head up in your hand and stared into his big brown eyes. Ezra was your other half. He understood you in a way that no one else ever did. No one in your own family, that’s for sure. The recent problems you had been having with him were so petty compared to the shit you two had been through over the years. Some of which were problems exclusively created by you. He was so forgiving. Too forgiving, in your opinion. It pained you, deeply, to ever fail him. He asked for so little of you. And you asked for so little of him.

“I wanted you to know that I picked up a little while you were sleeping,” he said, continuing to massage your cheek with his thick fingers. Not looking you in the eye.

“You did?” Your lips went tight. You felt a sparkling sensation in your cheeks and around your eyes. 

“I know how much the little things can get to you sometimes.” He slid his hand down the back of your thigh. “And it is a small request to put my own laundry in the hamper.” He sighed. “I can… be responsible for you.”

You were honestly surprised. You never got through to Ezra. He was his own man. Always had been. You were just along for the ride. But to see him acquiesce to you, finally, after all this time. “Thank you, Ezra,” you mumbled. “I appreciate it.”

“And I appreciate you, baby.” He looked into your eyes with sincerity. “I never want you thinkin otherwise.” His hand found your cheek and his thumb caressed the apple of it. He leaned forward and kissed you on the forehead.

You stared at him with glossy eyed wonder. Your body warming to his tender touch. You wanted to pull him on top of you, get a taste of his freshly scrubbed skin before he went on patrol. But his question interrupted your pleasant train of thought.

“What did you get up to around town today?”

“I–” You gasped and covered your face with your hands. “Oh shit!” You squeezed your whole body tight. “I need to tell you somethin.” You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. 

Ezra waited patiently.

“Tracy caught me and Joel kissing in the tool shed this mornin.”

He shrugged. “And?”

Your eyes went wide. “And I’m sure the whole town knows by now.”

He shrugged again. “Okay?”

You wiped your face with your hand and sighed. You spoke slowly. “The whole town is gonna think I’m fuckin Joel behind your back.”

He scoffed and stood up from the bed. “But you haven’t even fucked him, yet,” he sulked.

“That’s… that’s…” you shook your head. “That’s not the issue, Ez. The issue is that everyone is gonna think I’m some kinda slut or that I’m cheatin on you and I’m not. It’s all… consensual,” you said, moving your hand in a circle.

He sighed with frustration and tossed his towel in the hamper. “Well, I guess you gotta hurry up and fuck ‘im, then.”

“...what?”

He put his hands on his hips. “If the whole town is already under the assumption that you two are making the beast with two backs, then there is no real harm in proceeding with the deed.” He shook his head. “I find it to be pretty goddamn necessary at this point.”

“Excuse me?” You sat up.

“Time’s a wastin’!” He said with wide eyes. “Let’s get this show on the road already!”

You threw your hands up, looking around the room in mock disbelief. “What are you talkin about? Why do you want me to fuck him so bad?”

“You have been teasing me for what feels like weeks!” Ezra snarled and pointed at you with his finger. “I need you to fuck him!”

You wanted to laugh. And you did, a little. Your mouth going wide with a smile. “What does any of this have to do with you?”

“All of it, actually, has to do with me, your highness,” he said. “And I am tired of waiting for my turn!”

“Your turn? Ezra! What are you talkin about?”

“I’m talking about this whole little soiree–” he drew a circle with his finger. “--between me and him.”

You groaned. He was not clarifying anything. “Look, if you have issues with Joel, go to him about it. Don’t put me in the middle of it.”

Ezra tucked his chin. “Good.” A mischievous grin grew on his face. “I was hoping you’d say that.” He hummed with satisfaction and slinked his way into the living room. You heard him grab his things and head out the door.

What the hell was going on in Ezra’s head? You flopped back on the bed. “There is something wrong with that man.”

+++++++

A/N: I've had plans for the next chapter since writing chapter 2, I think, LOL! I'm excited.

tag list: @toxicanonymity @vabeachazn @suzdin @for-a-longlongtime @walkintotheriveranddisappear @sheepdogchick3 @rubyfruitjungle @shotgun-shelby @jksprincess10

[ode777]

But yall aren’t ready for that conversation

(Lyrics below)

My Tears Ricochet (Taylor Swift):

We gather here, we line up

Weepin' in a sunlit room, and

If I'm on fire, you'll be made of ashes too

Even on my worst day, did I deserve, babe

All the hell you gave me?

'Cause I loved you, I swear I loved you

'Til my dying day

I didn't have it in myself to go with grace

And you're the hero flying around, saving face

And if I'm dead to you, why are you at the wake?

Cursing my name, wishing I stayed

Look at how my tears ricochet

We gather stones, never knowing what they'll mean

Some to throw, some to make a diamond ring

You know I didn't want to have to haunt you

But what a ghostly scene

You wear the same jewels that I gave you

As you bury me

I didn't have it in myself to go with grace

'Cause when I'd fight, you used to tell me I was brave

And if I'm dead to you, why are you at the wake?

Cursing my name, wishing I stayed

Look at how my tears ricochet

And I can go anywhere I want

Anywhere I want, just not home

And you can aim for my heart, go for blood

But you would still miss me in your bones

And I still talk to you (when I'm screaming at the sky)

And when you can't sleep at night (you hear my stolen lullabies)

I didn't have it in myself to go with grace

And so the battleships will sink beneath the waves

You had to kill me, but it killed you just the same

Cursing my name, wishing I stayed

You turned into your worst fears

And you're tossing out blame, drunk on this pain

Crossing out the good years

And you're cursing my name, wishing I stayed

Look at how my tears ricochet

Mad Woman (Taylor Swift):

What did you think I'd say to that?

Does a scorpion sting when fighting back?

They strike to kill and you know I will

You know I will

What do you sing on your drive home?

Do you see my face in the neighbor's lawn?

Does she smile?

Or does she mouth, "Fuck you forever"?

Every time you call me crazy

I get more crazy

What about that?

And when you say I seem angry

I get more angry

And there's nothin' like a mad woman

What a shame she went mad

No one likes a mad woman

You made her like that

And you'll poke that bear 'til her claws come out

And you find something to wrap your noose around

And there's nothin' like a mad woman

Now I breathe flames each time I talk

My cannons all firin' at your yacht

They say, "Move on", but you know, I won't

I'm takin' my time

Takin' my time

'Cause you took everything from me

Watchin' you climb

Watchin' you climb

Over people like me

Would’ve Could’ve Should’ve (Taylor Swift):

If you would've blinked then I would've

Looked away at the first glance

If you tasted poison, you could've

Spit me out at the first chance

If I was some paint, did it splatter

On a promising grown man?

And if I was a child, did it matter

If you got to wash your hands?

And now that I'm grown, I'm scared of ghosts

Memories feel like weapons

And now that I know, I wish you'd left me wondering

But, Lord, you made me feel important

And then you tried to erase us

God rest my soul, I miss who I used to be

The tomb won't close, stained glass windows in my mind

I regret you all the time

I can't let this go, I fight with you in my sleep

The wound won't close, I keep on waiting for a sign

I regret you all the time

If clarity's in death, then why won't this die?

Years of tearing down our banners, you and I

Living for the thrill of hitting you where it hurts

Give me back my girlhood, it was mine first

Coney Island (Taylor Swift):

Break my soul in two looking for you

But you’re right here

If I can’t relate to you anymore

Who am I related to?

Did I close my fist around something delicate?

Did I shatter you?

And I’m sitting on a bench in Coney Island wondering, “where did my baby go?”

The fast times, the bright lights, the merry-go

Over and over

Lost again with no surprises

Disappointment close your eyes

And it gets colder and colder

When the sun goes down

The question pounds my head

What a lifetime of achievement

If I pushed you to the edge?

Will you forgive my soul

When you’re too wise to trust me and too old to care?

[love-toxin]

unbitten - dwayne (lost boys)

plot: you may not have known that vampires existed until tonight, but you're not prepared to go down without a fight when you meet one face-to-face in your house.

cws: blood, referenced violence, knives, a "good girl" but otherwise gn, kissing, reader's a spitfire, implied stalking.

a/n: yes, i know this isn't stranger things, but a rewatch had me simping and my thirst had to be quenched so forgive me ♡

word count: 1.3k

You invited him in–you should have known this would happen.

You've seen him around the pier, hanging by that group of delinquents that always seem to be lurking where they aren't welcome. Driving off on those bikes that roar throughout the night, lights dwindling as they set off into who knows where. You're not all that sure where people like that are welcome, but it certainly isn't anywhere in Santa Carla. Certainly not your home either.

Yet, this is where you find yourself. A tall, dark-haired, bloodied man facing off with you in your living room, nose smeared with crimson that he just licks off his lips with a toothy smirk. Fangs. No average man sports fangs for anything but a fad–nor tries to bite you when you're making a phone call for him to get help, thinking that you should, out of the kindness of your heart, get a mechanic out here for him so he can fix up his bike and get on home. Living alone up on the hill, he probably thought you would give in without a fight–but the dark-haired man with eerily sharp teeth doesn't know you just like you don't know him, which is exactly how you had managed to catch him off guard by cracking him in the nose with the phone.

"Stay back!" You threaten him with the knife you'd snatched off your kitchen counter as you'd dashed away from him initially, the chase starting there by the landline in your kitchen and ending here on the carpet in your living room.

"Or what?" You weren't expecting his voice to be that deep. You readjust your grip on your weapon, raising it a bit higher. Aiming it right at his chest, readied in case he lunges for you so you can get this motherfucker right in the heart, right where it hurts. The blade isn't silver or wood, but it's all you got.

"Or I'll bust your lip up next." He chuckles, and you have to fight not to let your grip slip on the handle. His confidence is aggravating, that smug grin like he's already won even more so. He may be some kind of monster, but you're the only one here with a weapon. "You think I'm joking?! I will!"

"Calm down, sweetie." He takes a leisurely step towards you, shoes sinking into your carpet from the sheer weight and size of him. He towers over you easily, could crush you with those arms and those big thighs and those feet, could keep you still while he does whatever he wants with you. That's exactly why you're so determined not to give him the chance, jabbing the air in front of you with the knife when he takes another step, so he knows just how hard you'll stab if he gets any closer.

"I'll calm down when you get the fuck out of my house." You warn lowly, the amount of warnings he's getting quickly dwindling before you swear you'll do something drastic. He raises his hands in mock surrender, offering some sort of submission so he can safely take another step. By now, he's barely a few inches from you, and you haven't even realized that the knife has drawn back closer to your torso as he approaches. Subconsciously avoiding touching him with it because really, deep inside, you don't have the stomach to kill someone. Not like he does. He lowers his hands when he's close enough to breathe on, and motions for you to put it down–and you follow it, your true fear shining through in the way your hands shake as he touches them.

"Good girl."

The clatter and thunk of the blade hitting the carpet echoes in the quiet, falling off to the side so there's really no chance of you grabbing it before he can grab you. But any regret or thoughts of what you've just done fall silent when he leans in, huge, warm hand cupping your cheek, and brushes those soft lips against yours. They're shockingly soft, so unlike the rest of his demeanour, and while he tastes of musky cigarette smoke and the metallic tang of his own blood, the only firm part about it all is your fingers gripping his leather jacket. The tip of his nose bumps yours as he deepens it, tilting his head slightly to spread your lips by gentle force and slide his tongue past them to meet yours. Warm and thick like…like he's not some creature of the night, but human, beautifully human with the warmth of a man you might otherwise give the time of day.

You can't even put a name to the face, to those lips and those deep, dark eyes, and that stoic smirk that you don't want to admit has you entangled with him like a snake with a mouse. But you let yourself get swept up in the taste of him, in the scent of his aftershave and evergreen cologne that overwhelms any and all sense you should have with this man that just tried to drink your blood.

"See? Don't wanna kill you," He murmurs into your mouth when he finally breaks it off, thumb rubbing your cheek in slow swipes as he lets his forehead rest against yours. Eyes drinking up the myriad of emotions swimming in your own. "Just thought you were too pretty not to taste."

The vampire licks his lips and sinks his teeth into his bottom one, sucking it back and letting it free so you can see how flushed and rosy it gets between his fangs. The taste of his blood on your tongue is what finally draws those words out of you that have been bubbling in the back of your throat, threatening to spill around the lump you have to swallow back.

"Get out." You tremble, voice and body and all, your brow narrowing as your grip tightens once more on his jacket, before you shove him away and watch even more fearfully when he barely flinches. All that strength just to be looked at like you're some sickly kitten hissing at him to stay away. He just smiles in that way he does and walks himself backwards slowly, eyes trained on you and only you, until his feet have crossed the threshold of your home. A wink, and that's when he steps down on to your porch and the breeze of the night whips his long hair gently about his face.

"You just let me know when you want me back." That'll never happen, you're so tempted to say, even though you're hot with shame knowing that that's such a lie. It takes only a matter of seconds for you to rush for the door, and you slam it closed in his face and fumble for the lock, the clicking filling the new breath of silence that's fallen over your home. While you press your ear to it to hear for his footsteps as he walks away, you hear none–and glancing out the window to the side of the doorway reveals nothing on your porch or the steps. Just the gentle wind breezing past your chimes and causing them to tinkle quietly with no semblance of rhythm.

Just wait another night, you'll see. You'll be even more ashamed by how quickly you resign yourself to this heat stirring in your stomach, growing even stronger when your eyes meet with the vampire's over the crowd of the boardwalk tomorrow night. And when you finally realize how long he's been watching, waiting, patiently hoping for that perfect moment to make you one of them–to make you his.

[inbetweenhours]

in the super power au what are those items on jimmy’s belt

okay shitty screencap of just The Canary for reference but uhh quick info!

So of the siblings Jimmy as The Canary is the only legal hero! Because of this his costume is properly made to be a hero and he is supplied tools, equipment and weapons by his lawful employers to help him do his job! Especially since his powers, while useful, aren't really combative.

The Canary works majorly as a civilian support hero so he isn't getting involved in combat unless he has to anyways. Instead his focus on on rescuing civilians and being a charming well natured guy to keep people calm. The two tools I was thinking he has are not very well designed here so you'll have to forgive me, gadgets are NOT my specialty lol.

But he has a kind of net canon that he can shoot at people to trip them up/ capture as well as probably if he aims right able to catch things/people which helps in rescues and with catching debris!

The other thing he has is for if/when he does get caught in combat, it's a little hip cage because I really wanted to work on the bird cage motif somewhere and it didn't really work but the cage s full of little smoke bombs! Jimmy is really not adept at combat so its better for everyone if he can just cause a distraction and get the fuck outta dodge lol.

Anyways hope that makes sense! A lot is subject to change since the au is so wibbly wobbly in my brain rn but these were the intentions!

[aajjks]

⚠️⚠️⚠️

TPOL!JK

"y/n? there's someone here to see you" says the receptionist as you're finishing up with a client and their pet yorkie.

"yes, these are so cute. i use them for my dog" you giggle before walking toward the receptionist who shows you to a room where a certain 'someone' is waiting for you. once you arrive, you shut the door behind you and the person stands up, removing their mask to reveal themselves as chaeyoung, jungkook's current girlfriend.

"surprised to see me?" she says with a smirk but part of you expected her to surprise you at your place of work since she figured out that you were jungkook's ex.

"what do you want, chaeyoung?"

"i just came to talk, y/n that's all"

"i don't want him, chaeyoung. him and i are long over"

"then why is he still thinking about you? even when we fuck his mind is pinned on you. he lives and breathes you and i can't allow that. you're like a drug he can't kick but i know how to fix it for him"

chaeyoung then pulls a gun from her chanel bag and aims it at you. your body is immediately frozen in place and your heart rate begins to speed up in fear. this scenario seems all too familiar as you remember the last time a gun was held at you from afar but this time it's near and she's convinced that ending you will "fix" jungkook. this girl is insane and it makes you wonder just how long she's been obsessing over jungkook because he isn't safe around her and neither are you.

"killing me won't fix him, idiot. you'll only make him hate you because jungkook isn't stupid. he's already looking into the obvious lie you told him and because he believes me, i convinced him that it was some deranged fan to keep him off your ass. you should be thanking me, bitch"

"and what makes you think i believe you?"

"wow, you really are stupid, huh? he thinks about me, remember? so obviously he's going to call me. his mind doesn't rest unless i'm okay" you brag and it feels good to brag about it because your words easily aggravate chaeyoung even more. despite the weapon at your head, you still poke chaeyoung more and more but you can tell that she's taking account of your words because killing you won't get him to love her more. when jungkook's father hurt you, he killed him, and as much as you don't like jungkook getting blood on his hands, you know jungkook would get revenge on your behalf anyway.

this man KILLED for you so what makes her think you're that easily replaceable?

chaeyoung lowers her gun and instead punches you square in the face sending you to the floor. "that's your warning, bitch. stay away from him or next time you're dead" she says and puts her mask on before exiting the room and leaving you alone.

after your time at the volunteer center, you drive to jorja's home to check up on her and when you see her, her face is still marked up but when she sees you, she knows you also had a run-in with chaeyoung. your right cheek is dark red from where she punched you but you don't seem too phased by it. when you walk in yerin is inside too and when she sees you, her jaw drops to the floor.

"oh my God!! did chaeyoung do this too?"

"yeah. she threatened me with a gun at the volunteer shelter i work at"

"oh hell no, that's it. we're calling jungkook" says jorja as she runs to grab her phone waiting for you to tell her the number you obviously know by heart but yerin is quick to halt jorja.

"uh, no thanks. he found someone just as crazy as him. i say let them live happily ever after"

"but what if she hurts him next?"

"jorja's right, yerin. what if she hurts jungkook? i would never forgive myself if something happened to him. i...i think we should tell him"

"but you'll only make things worse if you do. the bitch is crazy and if he breaks up with her because we told him then she'll kill all of us. she's a beloved superstar. if she doesn't kill us then she'll have her crazy fanbase ruin our lives"

"our? you never even met her"

"you know what i mean"

*knock* *knock*

great, she somehow found jorja's house so to prepare for any invasion, you grab the bat sitting near jorja's door and ask "who is it?!"

Jungkook is knocking at your friends door, hoping that you’ll be there because you weren’t at your own house, Jungkook had a discussion with his mother about everything and now… he’s convinced that chaeyoung is behind what happened last night.

And he knew he had to see you right away.

“Y-Yn WOAH ITS JUST ME.” He freaks out when you almost hit him with the bat. Jungkook tries to protect his face and when you finally recognize him he looks at you.

And he gasps.

“W-What the fuck happened to your face?!!” He cannot help but cuss when he sees your face. “Let me in please I swear I’m not here to do anything to you yn… I just want to see you.” He confesses. And thank God you let him in.

Of course he’s a little annoyed to see yerin but he doesn’t mind her too much because his mind is stuck on the bruise on your cheek.

“Yn…. I know you lied to me earlier.” He begins, his eyes set on your face, Jungkook is genuinely concerned as to what’s been happening with you and your friends.

“But first of all tell me what happened to your face… and why do I have a feeling it has to do with Chae?” Of course, it’s so fuckin obvious.

He’s familiar with Chaeyoung’s obsessive and insecure personality. She must’ve figured it all out. And she couldn’t stand the truth.

“She did this to jorja and you, right?”jungkook stalks close to you, his hand automatically caresses your cheek. “Yn do not hide anything at all- I can protect you avd your friends- and if you don’t tell me? I’ll just ask chaeyoung directly.”

He warns you because you still have uncertainty on your face.

“Just tell me.” He sighs, looking deeply into your eyes. “Please princess.”

[cock-holliday]

"I wish you would write a fic where…" Mulder, Scully, Skinner, Reyes, Doggett, and good old Cigarette Smoking Man himself were in a room with a tied-up Chris Carter and be able to just yell at him for the shit he did when writing the series.

I don't feel like I have a good enough grasp on either Doggett or especially Reyes (or how CC will likely fuck them over) to write them faithfully, so pardon the liberties taken

"...just get here as soon as you can,” Mulder’s voice said on the phone, “I'll explain everything then. Oh, and bring Skin-man with you...he'll want to see this..."

The line went dead before Scully could reply, not that she even knew what to say. It took some convincing to lead Skinner out to a warehouse on the edge of the city. The man wasn’t being particularly forgiving of Scully’s cryptic ushering, but then again, Scully had no more information than he did to aid in the prodding. Mulder sounded urgent, and that had to be good enough for them.

Something ‘big’ he had said, something ‘life-changing.’

The possibilities churned in Scully’s gut as she opened the side-access door of the warehouse, stalking into the open room, flanked cautiously by Skinner.

“Oh how the tables seem to keep on turning,” a familiar sinister voice cooed from the shadows.

Scully drew her weapon immediately, pointing her gun in the direction of the sound. Smoke curled around the shadow in the dark and with a breathy blow from the source, the smoke dissipated.

Unphased by Scully’s show of force, the Cigarette Smoking Man stepped out from the cover of darkness, cigarette dangling between his fingers and aiming a toothy grin back at Scully.

“Where’s Mulder?” Scully barked, taking a step forward.

“We’re on the same side this time, Agent Scully,” CSM explained with a smile, “Against an even greater threat.”

“Now why does that sound like a load of crap?” Skinner chimed in.

CSM didn’t bother to give Skinner a glance, instead deciding to drop the remainder of his cigarette on the ground and stamp it out. “Walter,” CSM added, finding the crushed ash to be worthy of greater attention than the two agents.

It was only then that Scully noticed a man she had never seen before tied to a chair in the center of the room. The man had waves of grey hair cascading down his shoulders. Tape was obscuring his mouth, and his eyes were wide in shock at the scene unfolding before him.

To Scully’s immense relief, Mulder finally rushed into the room.

“Thank god,” Scully huffed, “Mulder, what’s going on?”

“You can put the gun down, Scully,” Mulder explained, drawing shock and bordering on outrage from Scully.

CSM smiled smugly, but Mulder paid him no mind.

“Trust me, Scully, he’s not the one you’re going to be mad at for long.”

Scully lowered her gun, but didn’t dare holster it. Not yet.

“Scully…” Mulder began, “I found the answer…”

“To what?”

“Everything.”

Mulder stepped to the side, gesturing to the man in the chair.

“This is the man responsible. For all of it.”

“You sure? Pretty sure it’s that one,” Scully replied, jerking her chin in CSM’s direction.

“No, I’m sure,” Mulder replied gravely, “This man is behind…everything. Samantha’s abduction. Your abduction. The attempts on your life,” he added with a nod to Skinner, “He’s been orchestrating everything Cancer Man has done." Mulder looked back to Scully, "He’s why you and I took so long to get together–”

“Well,” Scully huffed, holstering her gun and avoiding the curious shifting glance of Skinner, “I don’t know about that...”

“He is. He was controlling everything from behind the scenes!” Mulder insisted, “Your infertility, your pregnancy–”

Scully’s hands curled protectively over her stomach.

“Everything!” Mulder concluded, “It was all him. Chris Carter.”

“Everything?” Scully asked, letting the waves of consideration hit her.

“Your cancer, Scully. My unspecified brain disease–”

“Yeah, what was up with that, by the way?” Skinner interjected, “I don’t feel like I know what it even was or how it fit in with anything. It seems like it came out of nowhere.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” Scully agreed, before turning to CSM, “Was it because of what you did?”

CSM raised his hands defensively, “Don’t blame me. The sick bastard won’t let me die.”

Scully’s brow furrowed.

“It doesn’t matter,” Mulder replied, “All of it was controlled by this man for his own sick amusement.”

“Why?” Scully asked, looking the bound man in the eye, “Why give me cancer? Why take away my ability to have a child and then give it back? Why keep Mulder and I from being together?”

“Are we sure that last one wasn’t due to protocol or FBI rules? You know, the no-fraternizing rule?” Skinner huffed, “I’m standing right here, for christ sake, why don’t you just kiss in front of me?”

“He won’t let us!” Mulder yelled, pointing an accusatory finger at the tied up man, “Every time we have an opportunity something stops us. Once it was a fucking bee. A bee!”

“What?” Skinner’s face scrunched in confusion.

“It doesn’t matter,” Scully waved him off, turning her attention back to Mulder, “So what do we do?”

“Torture him?” CSM mused, “Throw his body into a quarry?”

“No,” Mulder sighed, “No, he deserves to be handed over to someone even angrier than us.”

“Alex Krycek?” Skinner offered.

“No. The X-Philes.”

“The X-Files?” Scully asked, quirking a brow.

“N–don’t worry about it,” Mulder explained, “It’s a group of people who will take matters into their own hands and deal out a judgement we can’t.”

He stepped toward the man in the chair, cutting him loose from his bonds before pulling him away. In a moment of free movement, the man pulled his tape gag off.

“Wait!” Chris pleaded, “We share a birthday!”

Mulder ignored him, continuing to lead him away. Skinner grabbed the other arm, effectively dragging the man when his legs stalled out.

“I’ll give you whatever you want,” the man begged, “A monologue! Two monologues! As long as you want! Hell, they can take up the entire cold open, would you like that?”

The men ignored the pleas and continued walking.

“Please! I’ll make you a jesus metaphor! Again! You’ll be a messiah or savior or some other heavy Christian metaphor that declares you the most specialest boy!”

“I’m Jewish,” Mulder grumbled, unphased by the offers.

The man sank in his captors' arms in defeat.

“Hey Chris,” Scully called.

Mulder and Skinner stopped walking, turning back to look at Scully.

Scully raised both hands, brandishing her middle finger on each, “This is for Emily.”

Mulder nodded and continued pulling, Skinner doing the same.

The trio disappeared into the dark end of the warehouse.

CSM lit another cigarette before offering one to Scully, “So do you think the overarching invasion plot is ever going to get resolved?”

Scully took the offered cigarette, placing it between her teeth, “Fuck if I know.”

[voidwritesstuff]

Long Way To The Truth

summary: Lucas' mistakes finally catch up to him, and he finds allies in the strangest of places >Chapter 6: Nevada A/N: Fics not dead! just hit a wall after Utah, i think this chapter is worth the wait.

Lucas drove like a madman out of Utah for at least two days Straight,no sleep and barely any breaks. His mind raced with the horrors of the days before, he had Killed a cop which was just a death sentence of sorts.

Granted,it was sort of self defense. If he didnt act then he would be the one six feet under, he wouldnt change his action- no thats a lie, he knows he shouldve gone non-lethal.

But hes so close to getting to Milton-Haven, he cant let anything stop him. If he fails now....

If he fails now then hes dissapointing Wheeler,and all the people that died or got hurt by Agent Rainbow and the goverment. He wants to go through with this.

Hes got to survive,and if hes got to raise his weapon to do so then he Will.

Eventually exhaustion catches up to him, so as soon as he reaches the nearest town, he gets a room at a motel And he promptly passes out on the bed,not even bothering to change into something comfortable.

Blissful as rest usually is, he finds himself drifting on the edge of dreaming. All he sees is just a large black expanse,nothigness for miles and miles on end.

And then...the sound of rain. No, the sound of a storm, heavy,savage storm that felt like the Sky was coming down on humanity.

Flashes of lightning illuminate the void hes in, showing him hes on a road- Muddy and Rolling Hills of Grass and wet dirt. He hears soft crunching steps behind him and he turns-

Was that noise behind him? What constitutes as backwards? Why does he feel so...disoriented

He feels intense Fear, theres this mercury like smell in the air, something like a spray that sticks to his skin and gets in his lungs.

Theres this sudden bite of intense cold and hes drenched head to toe. His hair sticks to his face and he feels this...Weight in his hands

More steps come from what now he thinks is infront of him--Who are ya?!-- he yells, rising whatever it is hes got in his hands-- Identify yourself!

Nothing,for a moment.

Just the roaring storm.

--I said to tell me who the fuck you are!--He yells over a lightning strike that shows Him a male figure approaching him.

But the light soon subsides and plunges him into darkness.

Then another flash,the figure is closer,now taller,deformed, he hears the creaking of metal and the rustling of fabric.

Lucas' eyes go wide and he screams loudly, reaching for what feels like a trigger. A single bullet shoots out of the barrel with a bright flash of light,and he sees the face of Alphonso...

His captain had wide eyes, gripping his chest and gurglig out seas of blood, he falls back and only then does the moon or some sort of light fully illuminated the road

--No- no NO! Wheeler!--He yells, dropping the rifle that shatters like brittle glass into a million Pieces.

Its the same song and dance, he holds him tight and begs for forgiveness. He leans in to cry,to hug his friend one last time.

And then he hears a click, and something pressing against his chest. He looks to see Alphonso gone and in his place...some cop.

The cop...the cop he Killed.

Lucas sees red and blue lights fill the space,but when he looks to the cars the headlights burn his eyes with bright lights and he has to turn back to the cop.

When he turns he sees the gun now aimed at Lucas,straight point blank to his forehead

--Simply returning the favor-- says the Man, a voice dry as a desert and ghastly as any undead. A gaping,burning hole between his eyebrows.

All he hears after that is the dry,Metallic bang of the gun.

Lucas wakes up with a scream, pushing himself off of the bed and falling back first l to the ground. He Scrambles backwards until his spine presses firmly against the wall of the room.

He looks around with frantic eyes,looking for any threat. Even if there was one he wouldnt be able to do much of anything, he feels frozen in place, his hands clammy And his heart pounding like an obnoxious drum.

All he hears is...nothing,almost nothing. Just the usual car sounds, the soft steps of people outside 

--it was...it was a goddamn nightmare--He says to himself,voice shaking and weak

Lucas tries to get up but he cant, his body is not letting him move. He tries to push himself upwards yet his muscles just tense, not really caring for orders

Quite literally, hes frozen in place by fear.

This is not the first time he gets nightmares with Alphonso, hes grown used to it almost. Its...its the cop that took him by surprise, he wasnt sure he felt guilty or...afraid.

He wonders if that fed Chick he met ratted him out, though what could she have told his superiors that they didnt already know? That he had a weakness for Hersheys?

No, thats just ridiculous-

It didnt make any sense so he quickly discards the thought and moves to whats really eating him up.

Will the guy he Killed be missed? Was he somebody's son?brother?Friend?husband?,did he kill an innocent guy? Will his loved ones miss him at all?

Did he make a mistake?

"Thats the issue,isnt it?he thinks,still not able to process the situation, still frozen in place. "We're all just cannon fodder,replaceable. Send the cops to deal with the conspiracy maddened soldier instead of coming to get me themselves. They dont care who lives or dies as long as im locked up or dead..."

And it reminds him a little too much of the war,how they fought in someone else's names. Ears sweetened by propaganda, the promises of good legacys, of being a hero to their country,of being supported when the job gets done.

No, theyre all replaceable- the system depends on them so much and yet it doesnt care for them.

"This poor guy was just another cog in this machine- Im sorry" Lucas thinks, looking at the floor and feeling his muscles relax.

--finally-- He whispers to himself, standing up and heading to the shower. He better clean up,sleep a little more and go get some food before he loses what sanity hes got left.

Whoever that cop was, he was now a name on the long list of people who got their lives ruined or ended by Mayer,the goverment or whoever is behind Agent Rainbow.

And it only makes that Fire in him grow and burn ever brighter with hate,and the desire for vindication.

Post shower and nap, he gets ready to drive to a nearby dinner for some much needed food. Nevada had welcomed Him with a crisp summer heat, not that it bothered him much- He was from Florida after all,hes seen and dealt with worse.

He can hear the humming of his engine,he even drums his fingers on the steeringwheel to its rythm.,The indistinct hustle and bustle of the town hes in feels oddly homey,and as a few cars pass him by,Lucas realizes he could just turn the his radio on.

And in fact,his hand does reach for the "ON" button. But then he stops and re-tracts His hand, usually he used music to escape reality-But if he wants to get anywhere with this he should be left alone with his thoughts for a little.

Lucas takes a turn following the guidelines of his stablished Route,just taking in his sorroundings. But his mind wanders Back to the possibilty of danger...

First,He did kill a cop.

Second, hes trying to blow the lid off of a goverment conspiracy.

Third, hes Driving around in a white van through the US,sometimes sleeping in his vehicle in small towns or the Open road. Feds aside,he could still get robbed or worse.

Its a lot of things to Keep track of,a lot of things to worry about...

He just wants one peacefull day. Just one.

Eventually he does reach the dinner, He doesnt care to look at the sign, but does note the warehouse between the dinner and the spot where he Parked his van,the dinners parking lot being overtaken-

Lucas walks past it on his way to the Dinnee, thats Probably where they kept the stock for the foods and all.

Our lovely soldier takes off his ballcap of the Jacksonville Jaguars as he walks up to the entrance. Just a small habit he still kept from his army days.

Above him the bell rings as he steps out of the clear Sky and heat of the outside and into the cool air of the dinner. The air smells of cooked meals, of genuine food made on the spot.

First he goes to find a quiet booth to sit, somewhere in a corner where he can make a run for the exit or has the entrance in his line of sight.

He settles on a booth near one of the corners of the wall that holds the entrance. Then he waits to be handed the menu of the place.

Quietly he taps on the table, looking around to the place hes in. Its not too big and not too small, the chairs are wooden with leather cushions and the booths are much the same.

The whole diner feels lived in, earthy colors are found all throughout the place. The Windows are well cleaned and hes surprised the old neon sign above the entrance still works.

When hes handed the menu his eyes drift to the date underneath the dinner's logo. "EST. 1942" it reads,and he cant help but chuckle because thats his birth Year.

--As old as me,huh?--He whispers with a smirk.

Soon he orders some lunch, he was really feeling a nice cheeseburger,some fries and he wouldve gone for a beer if it wasnt for the fact that he needed to drive. So he just settles on some soda.

From here he can see the small TV having its channel swiftly changed to MTV. And hes a little thankful for it, he'd rather listen to music than some news reporter.

《I'm just an average man with an average life

I work from 9 to 5, hey hell, I pay the price

All I want is to be left alone, in my average home

But why do I always feel

Like I'm in the Twilight Zone?》

Comes the music from the TV, making him flinch.

He takes that back, lets switch back to the news report.

But eventually his food does come, and its as he starts eating his food that he notices a guy on a nearby table seem...loopy?

Its an older guy,around 60s,dresses casually with a button up. He has this oily texture on his lips, and it makes the soldier blink in confusion.

Just out of precaution,Lucas checks his food and drink for anything similar. Thankfully,theres nothing off at first glance and he decides to Keep eating. He needs that boost in Morale.

《I always feel like somebody's watchin' me

And I have no privacy (oh oh oh)

I always feel like somebody's watchin' me

Tell me is it just a dream?》

When hes done with his food,he starts to notice something weird. Theres a lot less people now- which shouldnt be weird given that lunch rush hour is passing, but he notes that the people that are left are sitting a little too close to him.

Theres at least four people behind him, two diagonally a few tables away. And just now three more have sat in the booth infront of him. And worst of all the dinner's parkinglot is pretty much barren aside from standard issue black SUVs, a few of them scattered about yet quite close to eachother,almost in a formation.

He clears his throat, the feeling of being watched setting in. He leaves the money he owes plus a tip and goes to stand up, feeling all eyes on him as he does so.

Quietly he shakes off his green flannel and ties it to his hips. Something tells him he'll need his arms free soon enough, then he grabs his baseball cap and puts it on,making sure his visor covers his face.

Then he walks to the entrance, hearing the shifting weight of some people as he passes them by. And if he could see behind his back, right at the height of the crook of his neck,he'd see one blond girl staring at him concerned.

With the bell clinking above him as he exits, he doesnt allow himself to breathe out,to relax.

And that was a Smart choice

Because Next thing he knows he barely managed to escape from somebody's grip. A guy around his height given he feel the guys chest against his back.

He can feel the forearm dig into his throat,trying to choke him out. He lets out a cough, his first instinct being to try to rip the arm away,but failing to do so.

Instead,he elbows the guy as close as he can to the mouth of his stomach. A dry,solid punch that gives Lucas a brief respite enough to slide away from the grip and hit the ground running.

《When I come home at night

I bang the door real tight

People call me on the phone I'm trying to avoid

Or can the people on TV see me or am I just paranoid?》

He can still hear the music as he runs away,thats how quiet the place around him is. Panic settles in his mind, its so clear- Hes outmatched.

But he cant give up now,hes got to run, find a way to lose them or distract them.

And like a saving grace, or Lady Luck's patient wait to flip Lucas' good fortune on its head, the warehouse comes into view. Its unlocked and he bursts in, finding himself on a labrynth of shelves And boxes with dust in the air and...music?

For a brief moment he hears radio static,presumably from the place that the music comes from. Its brief but strong enough to make his head feel light.

《Follow....me...》comes the voice from wherever the supposed radio is also somehow...somehow it comes from his own head too. Or like whoever is talking,a woman- clearly old as he is or older- is standing right there infront of him.

And he swears he sees sparkles of light blue- or is it Sky- no, Azure blue? In his periphery. Or was that...were those radio waves lighting up his path?

Somehow he knows itll lead Him to a door-A Back door.

His vision doubles, triples but he can hear the shuffling of boots against gravel, the bits of orders being given. And he knows its either run into the maze or get caught.

Like alice chasing after the white rabbit,Lucas follows the music from the radio,down into the rabbit hole- down the Many twisting alleys of the warehouse.

《When I'm in the shower, I'm afraid to wash my hair

'Cause I might open my eyes and find someone standing there!

People say I'm crazy, just a little touched

But maybe showers remind me of Psycho too much

That's why》

And of course the song doesnt help, it reverberates on his skull like a ping pong ball, its disorienting,annoying.

Outside the people after him gather, orders are given, and people Scramble to comply with them. Some go to the main entrance, Two to the back entrance, and three around on the roof.

--I still think this is too much personell--Says one of the guards of the main entrance.-- its just one guy

--This one guy Killed Dwight,Stevenson-- The Man said,eyeing the blond haired girl with him.-- Dont tell me youre growing fond of the guy....

--im not!-- the other Man raised a brow-- I mean it Benett!

--June-- Bennet warns-- Youre a horrible liar

She sighs--Okay fair enough -- truth is she went out of her way to seem suspicious-- Look, Dwights death was unfortunate. He went out there and disregarder orders!--She raises her hands,as if trying to make his attention shift from her face.

And before he can say anything she drops her hands and makes them impact against her walkie. She goes to turn it on to ask for mission status but...it doesnt let out static.

June tries again, and she cant--Oh youve got to be kidding me

Benett looks puzzled--What?

With an annoyed if not embarassed tone she answers-- My walkie doesnt have any batteries

--Huh?! What?!- Gimme that-- He grabs the useless piece of plastic. He clicks the on button,nothing. He goes to Open the back and yeah there are batteries-- Gah,outta juice? Fuck...--He sighs and turns own his walkie-- this is bravo to all units, going back to station to replace-

He stops,letting go of the talk button.Turning to Stevenson he adds-- Hey hold on- You go, its your walkie

--I have a higher Use Of Force score than you

Bennet narrowed his eyes,miffed at the fact that has been brought up-- Youre pulling that card?

Stevenson cant help herself and laughs a little--Listen! Are you going to risk the guy getting away because you wanted to Keep your ego intact?

The Man grumbled--Fine.-- He murmurs, going to push the talk button on his walkie-- sorry for that- Bravo to all units im going back to station to replace sierra's walkie. The batteries mustve died on the way here

--Ten-four Bravo. Make it quick-- comes their commander from the walkie.

--Sir yes sir--Benett answers and lets go of the talk button.-- You owe me -- he says to June who just laughs.

--I dont Owe you shit- Now go cmon.

June watches the Man grumble and hurry away to the car. But shes not relaxed until hes out of sight-

Fine,now that hes gone she can go in.

Meanwhile,Lucas runs out through the maze like corridors of the shelves. In his mildly drugged Addled Mind jumps over a crate,only to trip and roll with a grunt.

His view was hazy, and his ribs burn. Newsflash,the floor is hard and solid- Not wobbly Like his eyes had him believe.

Soon approaching comes the footsteps of the men after him- At least he wont get shot. They wouldnt shoot a gun in such an enclosed space because aside from deafening anyone in the vecinity, it could hit an ally, a passerby or something flammable.

Well,theres not much here thats flammable- Aside from cooking oil but hes not going to bet money on it....

--Goddamnit--He growls, standing up and holding his side for a moment.

--Where the hell is he?--Yells somebody in that maze of shelves.

--I think I see him!--Shouts someone else.

Hes not sticking around to find out- So he starts sneaking through wherever his body might fit. Trying to follow the music just like he was told to do.

《always feel like somebody's watchin' me

And I have no privacy (oh oh oh)

I always feel like somebody's watchin' me

Who's playing tricks on me?》

Lucas makes one turn, then keeps going-Another turn- Was it left or right? His head spins- He holds it and stumbles.

Breathing labored, the music echoed through the warehouse and he feels his head way too light-

--Crap crap crap --He mutters, how the hell did he get drugged? His food didnt taste any different- or did his hunger make him ignore the odd taste?

《I don't know anymore!

Are the neighbours watching me? (Who's watching?)

Well is the mailman watching me? (Tell me who's watching?)》

But hes got to Keep running- the Fear was so intense- he could barely breathe.

His steps get drowned out by the music that seems to be getting louder,as if someone was cranking up the radio's volume.

The corridors he runs feel endless,they pass him in a blurr and hes sweating Like a sinner in church- What was going on with him?

Could it be the chemical- Could he have been drugged with the Agent Rainbow? Was this just a panic attack? A PTSD episode? Or was he just really that scared?

--Oh God no no--He mutters looking at the two tall crates that block his path- Who even leaves something like this in the middle of the warehouse?!

《And I don't feel safe anymore, oh what a mess

I wonder who's watching me now! (Who?)

The IRS?!》

Hes trapped, he cant go anywhere-

The steps grow louder and louder- someones approaching fast...

This is it- Hes caught.

Hes failed

And he was so damn close-

--Lucas!--Yells Someone over the music.

--get away!--Lucas shouts right back,scrambling to Grab something, anything to get away.

With a wide swipe he grabs whar feels like a paper bag, he rips It Open and throws it at whoever was approaching him. He heard them cough and just as hes about to run away...

--Goddamnit Lucas! You big fucking idiot!--Hes slammed against the Crates. He feels himself restrained and something is poured forcefully into his lips.

He tried to pull away but he cant,hes held in place and he can tell his assailant is smaller than him. He notices Many things...

First, his attacker is a She-,Of blond hair,grey eyes...

--kid?--He asked, looking at her, a little puzzled.

--About damn time--June says, putting the cap back on her canteen-- I made sure to give you a low dosage- but that didnt work clearly!

--You- you drugged me!--He protested--How-?!

She rolled her eyes--You didnt check the water supply of the motel, did you?

--How shouldve I known-

--Doesnt matter--The woman replied-- Cmon, we gotta GO

Forcefully,she grabs his wrist and tugs Him along. Lucas seems really out of it-Less dizzy now but confused.

--Wont this get you in trouble?--He asked, walking over the pile of flour so his footprints didnt show. Above them the light is a sickening yellow, Either from the dirty lightbulbs or the Sky lights.

--I was in a whole world of trouble the moment I didnt detain you back in Utah-- She replied, non-chalantly-- it was either detention or...

--Termination--He finished,his mind getting clearer-- I mean- you couldve Killed me at the motel back in Utah

--Or I couldve given you the whole dosage

--But you didnt

June shrugged--Im efficent,thats why they trust me. Besides- Rose- She helped out

--Whom?

She cleared her throat- not sure how to tell him who Rose is. Tension fills the air for a moment as they walk, avoiding the Sky lights or barren shelves.

《I always feel like somebody's watchin' me

And I have no privacy (oh oh oh)

I always feel like somebody's watchin' me

Tell me is it just a dream

I always feel like somebody's watchin' me

And I have no privacy (oh oh oh oh)

I always feel like somebody's watchin' me

Who's playing tricks on me?》

--Doctor James, shes the one who made- Or well, helped in revamping AR. She uh- She wants out and I told her I know somebody--June explained,finally getting to the back door-- She gave me the specifics on how much of the chemical to expose you to,yadda yadda

Lucas nodds, finally being let go--Did she also give you something to help calm down the effects or-

She snorted--Nah Man thats just water

--Oh...

The woman rolls her eyes with a smirk,obviously amused--You packed all your stuff back in your van before leaving right?

--Yes...

--Good,then punch me and run

He blinks at her--Excuse you?

--we gotta make this believable,dumbass-- She replied, walking up to him-- itll be too obvious if you leave and im unharmed. Plus my battle buddy Will be back here soon and things Will get worse for both of us

Lucas understands what she means, if her buddy comes back-She'll have no other choice but to play along and detain him- and escaping death or wherever he was going to be thrown into seemed nigh Herculean of a task.

Still, he wasnt going to punch her. It felt...wrong- she did nothing but help him. Even if he did punch her, he wouldnt be able to actually make it hurt.

--You are so sentimental--She teased,a little endeared but also annoyed-- Thats sweet but we gotta hurry it up

Before he can say anything she bangs her head against one of the desks there. He hears a sickening crunch of bone and a smear of red spread across the wooden surface of the furniture she hit.

His eyes widen--Sweet lord,woman!--He yells  seeing her pull back with almost a manic grin. But shes not done,oh no.

She hits the corner of the desk right on her ribs,she yelps in pain and does It again on her arm.

--Kid- Jesus just stop!--He pulls her back but one last thing she does is hit the steel frame of the desk she was just throwing herself at.

--There --June says,blood trickling down her lips--I think thats enough

--Ya fucking think?!--Lucas Shouts, about to look at her hand before being pushed away.

--Fucking leave!

Fast approaching steps reach his ears,he nodds and runs for the door. Though before he leaves he turns and simply says--Hey- whats your name?

"For fucks sake" she thinks,but indulges him nonetheless-- June

--thank you,June. For everything

She smiles and says--Its nothing...

--And also, leave your job- youre too much of a good person for this--And with that,he leaves. Hearing her faint laughter over the music.

Soon he reaches his van,he hops In and like a bat out of hell he drives away. Speeding past none other than Bennet,who by the time he realizes what happened its already too late- Hes being called in to help June,who seems to be either incapacitated or unconcious.

Lucas Cole escapes with his life, shaken, worried, but still alive.

He drives for days on end,barely sleeping (if at all) and eating whar remains of his rations. Next stop he makes he ought to re-stock.

His mind eventually clears up, the radio frequency is quiet. Too quiet.

But one night,just the night he made it to Oregon the radios catch something on another frequency. Weak and quite static filled.

Yet he recognizes the two voices that talk.

--This Empty to Spider --Comes the voice of one Rosemary James, he recognized the voice from when he entered the warehouse. The same woman he heard talking about a shipment.-- How did things go? Over.

-- Spider to Empty, they went well. Poor fucker was horrified when he saw me fling myself to that desk-- She laughs a little,to then yelp-- It still hurts. Over

He chuckles and whispers--Thats what happens when you hit yourself with a desk,Dummy.

--I suppose hes on his way to Washington? Over-- Rose asked.

--Affirmative. Im sure he'll find something or somewhere to stay-- the "over" seems to slip Junes mind.

--Funnily enough theres a spot for a ranger in Elysium Park-- "Empty" added with an audible smile.

--Huh,he'll fit right in,then.

--He sure Will

--Is he safe?--the scientist asked.

--Bureocracy Will slow things down--the fed answered-- by the time they try to catch up...

--He'll be long gone

Then a brief silence.

--Ill handle the situation when it gets to it. Thank you,Spidee Empty over and out

And so,the transmission cuts.

Lucas chuckles,shaking his head and wondering how the hell did his life get so damn crazy... And how lucky he is that June decided to go Rogue.

Quietly,he stands up and checks his sorroundings. Hes hidden away off Road near a small town on the edge of the stateline between Oregon and Nevada. He'd drive a little more If he wasnt so exhausted.

He decided to trust on Junes words and allowed himself a good nights rest. A full eight hours-

And though he wont be able to remember this the Next morning, Lucas dreams of an azure blue Angel with bright round eyes and long,radiowave made wings standing at the front of what seems to be a...bunker?

She turns to him and simply says

《Follow....me》 

[sol-consort]

Good morning commander.

Was curious about your preferred squad mates, class and what weapons you've been enjoying.

Also, how are you.

You're so sweet!! Thank you so much for asking <333 you made me really happy. The chance to talk about this game more is everything I want!!

And I'm not very well but I appreciate you asking, I hope you're doing well enough anon. If not then it's alright, I promise you're not alone and it will pass.

ME1

First playthrough, I tried to mix it and take everyone around equally. I did mostly end up bringing Tali and liara around because I thought they were pretty.

Started on vetran difficulty.

Infiltrator class, tried Vanguard and didn't like it, so I switched to this one. I like the sniper playstyle and used the spectre weapon. Tried hammer first and enjoyed it, but I wanted to learn better my aim, and hammer was too forgiving for that so I switcted.

The hunt for colossus armour was...painful- took many reloads but when I finally did it, it was so worth it. I didn't know much about powers and they looked intmidating so I avoided using them, but I still appreciated whenever my teamates used stasis.

It paid off, especially in ng+ when I had every colossus X armour for all teamates except Tali. I did end up taking Ashley everywhere during that playthrough and occasionally switching the second teammate since I planned on sacrificing her on virmire.

Tried hardcore in ng+, was fun but I was trying to speedrun things bc I messed up the Kaidan romance so I lowered it back to vetran.

First game Shep looked so adorable my god, I do miss the scar. I picked war hero background and headcanoned that it was the results of Elysium. Oh and earthborn too. Makes sense to have a gaint face scar while running around in gangs.

ME2

The ammo introduction helped ease me into the powers and I liked the cloaking mechanic because of its dmg boost. Still used sniper.

Cryo ammo team upgrade so the other two people get it, then I switch my weapon to either Heavy Disrupter or Tungsten.

X-98f Widow. I was kinda disappointed in how I got very few sniper choices and instead had to relay on separate upgrades, but oh well.

Cain was a stable always, the main goat in so many different scenarios I can't even begin. Especially OP in the grunt loyalty mission for the thrasher maw. Can't wait to try it in insanity.

For the armour, I didn't relay on them much. Most dmg came from seperate upgrades so i only wore whatever looked the best. I did have the helmet separation mod. The blood dragon was my favourite for a while tho! Mainly for its look.

I preferred whatever armor gave me more spare ammo since it meant the more enemies I could one shot with a sniper if I get a headshot, make every bullet count yk? And reloading was so tedious and didn't time well with my cloaking cooldown.

The N7 shadow armour looked amazing, second place is N7 Demolisher armour, and third Garmr heavy assault armour but that one might be modded and not vanilla, not sure.

I only worried about extra dmg or more ammo, everything else was ignored.

Kept same difficulty.

Thane, Mordin and Grunt were my favourite to take with me because of their dialogue. I did take Thane and Garrus with me to form a sniper trio a couple times, it was hilarious just 3 campers sitting behind covers on their cushy seats.

Only of Garrus stopped fucking switching his weapon every 5 seconds.

After getting legion, he became a constant, I even revisited old locations just to see if he has anything new to say.

Second game Shep was def more cunty, the bold eyelashes. Cerberus probably removed the scar :(

I left the surgery scars to heal on their own, but they eventually disappeared bc of my choices. I tried going more renegade to bring them back, but it became too OOC.

ME3

I haven't progressed much but so far, I'm really happy with the weapon options! So many new snipers and the power levels charts are back instead of annoying seperate upgrades hell yeah!

Plus, we get add-ons, which are very nice. I'm using the Black Widow, satisfying heavy shots, my beloved. Still picking armour based on looks but most of them look bad so- yeah.

I do use modded armour tho! Some are really pretty, especially the modded Ashley one. Anything that boosts power cooldown and headshot dmg for me is a winner.

It's a cycle of, cloak to get 40% dmg, shoot, reload, cloak to get 40% dmg, shoot, reload. And the cooldown matches perfectly with the black widow reloading so there is very little waiting. I can get my 40% bonus back on immediately after reloading.

Also I don't take any other weapons so the recharge speed bonus stays around a 100%. That's why I relay on incinerate when I run out of ammo since I don't have a pistol.

I noticed the focus on mele and I'm glad they are getting more attention, they deserve it tbh. I'm comfortable using powers now and I still do the same cryo bullets teamwide trick then switch to my own ammo.

I'm taking Javik everywhere! I love Javik, I will die for Javik, I will kill for Javik. Please ask me to kill for Javik, Please please please-

By third game I grew very comfortable with mods and added whatever ones I could find.

This is how it's going so far. I don't use tech or powers for dmg so I ignore them. Incinerate is there for when I run out of ammo since it does surprisingly decent dmg.

Using the thermal upgrade that lets you see enemies through fog, smoke and walls. Comes in handy when lining up the shot as they emerge from their cover or when they throw a smoke grenade. Still toying with the second upgrade choice but the enhancer one that slows down time for a bit seems good for now.

I tried my best to make a pretty Shepard and fix the mess the third game did to character creation, a lot of Shepard's face is adjusted bones and morphs through the save file editor.

You have to consider that this is what I started with

Eyelids clipping constantly through my eyes.

And this is after the bone and morph adjusts

I think I have decent aim now! I wanna replay the whole trilogy on insanity eventually, that's if Andromeda doesn't go on sale anytime soon. I'm still playing through the third and taking my time, this game is so fun.

[toastess-with-the-mostess]

Let's Rewind! Toast watches Voltron: Defender of The Universe (1984)

Season 1, Episode 25: Short Run of The Centipede Express Season 1, Episode 26: The Invisible Robeast

Episode 25: Short Run of the Centipede Express apparently the gg are still in contact with arus because they're sending status reports of a centipede robeast blowing up asteroids in its path i'd rather not hear from the gg ever again thanks

i know this is post ep 20 now, but coran letting the team go observe that damn robeast who's literally a whole galaxy away is eating me whole, i will never forgive coran

Honestly the one thing dotu did right is showing straight up torture, like yea we know the rulers of doom are evil but seeing people forced into a gladiator ring against a robeast for refusing to work on a secret weapon and having the rest of the slaves watch is fucking despicable

Revolt! The slaves snapped after watching one of them get eaten by a robeast and are demanding freedom, sucks to suck lotor, if you kill them you won't get shit done, but if you listen you ALSO won't get shit done

Apparently planet Mora (the planet the weapon is being build on) helped Arus at some point, Hunk seems to remember it, so it must be real recent that's probably the writers way of justifying hunk and allura wanting to go down to help the people, but I think freeing them from slavery against an oppressive government is a good enough reason LMAO

Surprisingly, Keith Lance and Pidge went planet side through the lion head attack, where green literally disconnects her head and launches away, I thought they were going in green because she seems to be the smallest lion also allura wanted to go with Lance and Pidge, but Keith essentially told her to sit the fuck down because he was going instead and to keep watch with hunk LMAO

Where the fuck did pidge go, is he staying in green's head while Keith and Lance act out their spy kids dreams?

Oh god, they tried to censor some guards drinking on duty by calling it some kind of juice OINVSD It's a flask, it's so obviously a flask, though definitely would've worked on kids since they shouldn't have known what it was

ooh real talk time, this dude is swearing loyalty to lotor because he feels abandoned by Voltron, apparently his people helped arus after one of the attacks on it but when their planet own got taken over, voltron was busy elsewhere I understand where he's coming from, it's hard to ignore bad things when it's happening to you so when you actually need help and nobody comes it's devastating

The plan to destroy the secret weapon, which is a laser that's able to fry voltron, goes wrong because of that guy so keith and lance make a break for it the only reason the guy stopped the plan was because lotor was going to kill him, so i don't think he would've said shit if that didn't happen

Why is pidge still in the body of green lion?? I thought he fucking went with them! Everything is so confusing

Time to take down that laser gun, that dude is in charge of aiming it but after keiths pep talk about trusting voltron and not zarkon he ends up shooting it at the centipede express that's coming in for a landing with zarkon and haggar in it it misses, of course, but the guy ends up taking down a tower anyway

i mean i assumed the centipede express was a robeast but seeing it actually set itself up to be one was cool as fuck

Voltron was formed waaay earlier but the robeast is destroyed and the bad guys escape also keith and that one guy have a really weird and really emotionally charged stare for a bit lol

/episode end

Episode 26: The Invisible Robeast Haggar found out how to turn things invisible,,, great Lotor obvs is going to use that to kidnap Allura, sometimes I think that Zarkon isn't on his ass about being driven by his dick more than his head because taking Allura would still make voltron weak enough to destroy

Ew Nanny Pidge keeps inhaling apples, so now his favorite fruit are apples because I say so

your honor i love them

Lance giving Pidge advice on how/where to shoot so the princess doesn't get hurt is the cutest thing, I want to see more of them just being dofuses together

"i just don't like things i can't see" - Nanny you mean like your fucking attitude, but you can definitely see that so no wonder you don't have a problem with it

Keith saves the day from a falling boulder, I know allura going back for nanny was the ethical thing to do but also LEAVE HER TO DIE YOU DON'T NEED HER EVER ESPECIALLY WHEN YOU WERE GOING TO DIE BECAUSE OF HER

The boys tell allura to stay in the castle since the robeast is going after her specifically, for once I agree since for now it's good for her to keep her distance as long as she's still watching Keith and Lance bait it to the desert and watching for it to cast a shadow before all 4 let loose on the thing, smart plan

Animation error? keiths background when he's in his lion is all white and just outlined oh all their backgrounds are like that, maybe to save money

the robeast attacks the castle and lures the boys underwater to blue's launch area, turns out we get confirmation that every lion but blue sucks at being in the water also it's princess time now, she's the only one who can actually do well down there

aaand she's knocked out again, but on the bright side the boys had time to figure out how to beat up the robeast and get her back while it was distracted

Voltron's formed, robeast defeated, everyone's safe, hooray!

/episode end

[thatguyender]

DL!Sona: April 13th, 2034

Auther's Note:

My head might be targeted by some on the DL server because of the past few days of a n g s t. So, to make things better I rewrote one of them. :D

WARNING - Attempted Suicide, Blood.

Available in AO3

Hakon hasn't heard from Iskander and Quinn's only son, J. He grows impatient and worried as he goes to give him a visit after receiving nothing but radio silence

"No... No, no no no no—wake up! Dad, please wake up!"

It’s terrifying to know how fast things can happen.

Fast enough that it can change someone’s life at a moment's notice.

Hakon knew that for sure. He knew many who had fallen victim to the infection—too many to count. But this one felt like something had been ripped from his soul, something he never imagined could have dragged him into the mud of his figurative hell.

“Come on–please! Open your eyes! I can't—I can’t lose you!”

Three days have passed since the death of his best friend, one he had kept longer than any other relationship even before the fall. Quinn Castillo, a bright and determined nightrunner, became one of the very few people who even bothered to become close to the Frenchman. Sure, there were Cillian, Frank, Harper, and all that. But no one could compete with the level of friendship between him and the little bird.

He wasn’t the only person who entered his life with such impact. There was also the man who gracefully swept across the floor and lifted the little bird with the affection he deserved. Quinn’s partner was the main reason why the man stayed true to his devotion and, for once, the one who made life almost bearable for everyone. 

It was a rollercoaster when they first met, and Hakon watched as the affection grew and grew.

Yet he remained an enigma to this day. When the nightrunners arrived to rescue the couple, his body was nowhere to be found. Not even a trace. Not even where Quinn's lifeless body lay.

Poor bastard…

“WAKE UP, PLEASE!”

But there was one specific person who broke the moment they found both news at the same time. Their lives were torn to shreds the moment those pivots were ripped like stitches from a still-healing wound.

“J, please. I know you’re still here.”

Hakon wanted to tear up, but he knew he had to keep strong.

For him.

“Please open the door.”

Iskander adopted the kid when he was two, and both lived long enough to complete the family when Quinn was welcomed with open arms. It must have been extremely distressing for someone that young to face the reality that his two loved ones were not coming back; Hakon couldn’t imagine how much the kid must be suffering. He was growing worried when none of his calls were being answered. There weren't many people who remained in contact with the parents after the Nightrunners disbanded, but there were still some who went to check for any news.

Frank.

Aitor.

Rowe.

Matt…

Fuck Juan. Hakon couldn’t forgive that guy for what he had put the kid through, as he was the reason why the two were there the first time.

He’s the reason why the poor kid is in this state.

All the others were getting the same response.

Radio Silence.

There was Lawan, who was close friends with J due to their age but…

Hakon knew it would lead to something along the lines of getting a bolt through his head.

“J–”

“Hakon…?”

Lifting his head from the floor and turning to see where that voice came from, it wasn’t the kids at all…

Shit.

Speaking of Lawan.

“Wait—” The tip of the bolt was aimed between his eyes, just above the bridge of his nose. He raised both his hands in surrender; he had nowhere to run. “Woah-woah-woah, wait! Lawan, please! I’m only here to check on the kid. I’m sure you’re here too for the same reason!”

As she froze in thought, her brown iris shone under Hakon's torch. She was only reacting because Hakon suddenly abandoned the nightrunners.

And her.

Lawan was mad, and Hakon knew that.

But she doesn’t know why he did what he had to do.

And he didn’t have the heart to tell her now.

"I—fuck," she says, lowering her weapon and releasing her finger from the trigger. “I can’t kill you here, not when he’s... FUCK—" She yelled as she kicked the nearest wall out of frustration, and it left a small indent in the surface.

Lawan looked back at the ex-nightrunner with spite before biting her tongue and stowing her weapon on her back. She knew Hakon was close to Quinn, almost like a brother, to the point where J considers him family.

Killing Hakon now would not be as satisfying as she had hoped if J, who is currently overwhelmed by recent events, discovered that his closest relative was dead outside his front door.

Hakon let out a sigh of relief. He lives to fight another day.

“He hasn’t answered anyone’s calls. Everyone’s getting worried about him, as he hasn’t left the apartment since. He refuses to leave and…” Lawan's brows seemed to lower as much as he thought; it seemed that even J had not answered her calls. “And by the way you look, he’s not answering yours either.  Shit.”

There goes that hope.

“Move aside; let me try.”

Hakon moves to the side, allowing his ex to try to open the door. Hopefully, she might have a better chance since she played with him when they were younger, at least to some extent. She was only a few years older than him.

“Hey? It’s me, Lawan. I’m–”

BOOM

…

The two looked at each other in horror. 

That sounded like something neither of them were expecting, but it could have meant that their generators had faced some issues as the light outside the door flickered and finally died. Their biomarkers beeped as darkness welcomed them with a cold gaze.

That was the point at which they needed to act.

“Hakon–”

“I know!” The ex-nightrunner took a grounded stance, readying himself for the impact. Lifting his boots from the ground and forcefully planting them against the locks of the door.

BANG

Once.

BANG

Twice.

BANG

Finally, the third time's the charm.

The door swings open as wooden fragments spread across the ground, maybe some on the soles of his worn boots. The two finally gained entrance to the seemingly deserted apartment. But they needed to act fast.

UV was the only savior against the infection, and J’s immunity was not as strong as the other two.

And by the sound of the bang they heard, repairing the generator is going to take some time if they both go.

Hopefully, J will know what to do when this happens.

“Lawan, go see if you can get that generator running. I’ll check the rooms for him.”

J wasn’t yet in sight.

Hakon grew even more worried.

“What if he’s–”

“Lawan, please.” Hakon worriedly ran over to the hall and checked the rooms. Lawan headed towards the kitchen, where she followed the wire that should have led towards the generator.

One by one, each of them had nothing but dust and items piled on top of each other as if they hadn't been touched for days. Maybe weeks? Hakon hadn't been there in a long time, so he wasn't sure why these rooms had been left in this state. Maybe because the two were busy with their daily lives too...

He needs to keep that thought pushed aside.

He can't feel remorse now.

The only places that seemed to have been recently used were the workshop and J’s bedroom.

His bedroom was decorated with a bunch of stuff, his personal workbench, and even some old-world toys that Hakon knew kids his age would enjoy. Even some Pokemon cards that he used to collect when he was younger. 

The good old days…

Hakon was getting distracted. Searching the bed, closet, and just about any hiding space, there was no sight of the kid.

“Where are you, kiddo…”

In an attempt to organise his thoughts, he considered other places where someone like J could be—somewhere he could feel safe.

Iska and Quinn’s bedroom.

This apartment felt almost normal. The fact that most rooms are almost clean and somewhat what he would expect in a pre-fall home shows that the two really outdid themselves to make them feel like the world hasn’t ended. J was really lucky to have them as his parents. Caring and brilliant, the two were really the stars of the apocalypse.

Though, not all stars will shine forever…

He noticed his shaking breath as the purple light flickered before turning pitch black as he looked down the hall from J's door. As she tries to reactivate the only source of energy, Lawan's curses can be heard coming down from the other side of the apartment. 

He walked over to the dark oak door, his hand hovering over the doorknob.

His hands were trembling…

Why was he shaking?

Why are you shaking?

…

He’s scared.

He’s scared to lose someone close to him.

He can’t lose his family.

The purple light finally stayed on as Lawan celebrated her accomplishments from the other side of the apartment. Bringing Hakon back to his senses, his biomarker beeped in excitement as the level of infection decreased in his bloodstream. It somewhat eases him a little, but he still feels anxious. He took a deep breath, fought the shaking in his hand, and turned the rusted door knob clockwise.

“Kiddo…?”

Once he pulled the door open.

Darkness.

The room was not bathed in purple light like the corridors. In fact, the room was completely cold and dark. Hakon’s expression grew and grew to the point he could almost feel his own heartbeat in the darkness.

The purple light from outside couldn’t reach the inside at all. There was nothing in the room that could prevent the worst from happening.

Hakon was never terrified of the dark until now…

Flicking his flashlight around the room, he shined the beam everywhere, horrified to see what was left. There was too much on the floor—broken glass from the UV lamps that were forcefully dragged to the floor and shattered, with metal scraps scattered.

There was no sign of the kid.

The entire room was almost ravaged as if something…

“...i’m…sorry…”

He heard a voice.

It was quiet, almost too quiet.

Silently, he listens out for the voice again as he moves his flashlight.

The kid was small—even for being only seventeen—and could hide himself even in the smallest space and still not be found.

Something in the corner of his eyes moved, gaining his attention as he aimed the torch at a blanket. How on earth did he miss such a small detail? Was it because of the…

He felt a shiver climb across his spine, and what he saw daunted him.

Blood.

“Lawan!”

Hakon cried out towards the hunter as he made his way through the room and towards the cloaked individual with distress. He could feel the world collapse when he pulled the blanket off, feeling that he might be too late. 

“Mon dieu–”

Hastily placing two fingers by the neck, just under the chin, desperately searching for any sign of life. 

He wasn’t ready to lose more.

Please…

Not him.

Ba bump.

Ba bump.

Ba bump.

A breath left his lungs as he felt a pulse.

He’s alive!

His pulse was weak, but he was still alive!

“God dammit, kid.” Hakon could just tear up again; today will definitely be the day where he’ll beat the record. But what is more important is that J still had a fighting chance. “You’re going to be okay. I’m here, I’m–”

His vision was dragged towards the red light reflecting from the floor as the torch swung around in the air just as he finished his sentence.  

A piece of broken glass with a blood-stained edge.

Hakon was…

Distraught.

To confirm his intuition, he carefully pulled on J’s arm.

Only for it to confirm the worst.

Several cuts were painted with crimson on the arm. 

It even reached up to the elbow.

Crimson fluid continued to slowly pour down, forming droplets as it fell to the ground. Collecting into a small puddle that soaked into the wooden flooring.

“Je suis navré...” He couldn’t take anymore of this hell.

He’s only a goddamn kid.

Hakon wanted to punch the walls hard enough for his fist to bleed. If Quinn and Iskander see their son in such a condition, they will have dropped everything to make things right. 

J deserves better.

Not this.

“Stay with me, J… Stay with me–”

“Hakon! Did you find him?” Lawan ran towards the door, her torch aiming towards the Frenchman, and…

Her face twisted in horror as she witnessed something she never expected to see from such a happy person. 

“Is…Is he okay?!” She hurried over next to the nightrunner, quickly going through his bag. Looking for the small medkit that Hakon would always carry around with him. She knew that. She stayed long enough to know a lot about him.

BEEP

J’s biomarker beeped, and eleven red bars filled the indicator. This meant that the kid was just at the stage where the infection could have done more damage than what has been done.

Hakon bit the inside of his mouth as he kicked away the glass.

Away from the kid.

Lawan then extended her hand to Hakon's side, holding a small bandage and two large pieces of gauze. Better than nothing, he thinks as he takes it in his free hand and begins to apply it to the deep wounds on both his arms. These are not going to heal well. It’s going to haunt the kid whenever he looks at it.

Serving as a reminder of this day.

“He’s alive, just barely hanging on. Grab my UV bar.”

Without a doubt, Lawan would grab for the black bar that was hanging by Hakon’s waist, unclipping the item and triggering it so that the purple light began to envelope the three. Placing it at the side will shield them from any progress of the infection. 

Their biomarkers went back to full green.

“Shit…" wiping a tear, Lawan was at the verge of it. "I’m…”

“I know, Lawan. I know. Could you see if you can get someone here?”

“I–yeah. Of course, I’ll see if I can get Frank to send someone here. I’ll be back.” Hakon could hear the sadness she was trying to hold back. He was too, but he needed to focus on tending to these wounds.

If they were any minute later, then Hakon’s fear would have become reality.

Once he tied the bandages securely on both arms, he would carefully lift the kid. Making sure to avoid any more glass and making their way towards somewhere that they can safely watch him. On the way, Hakon would be saying things under his breath, some of them being, “I’m here.” and “I should have been there.” 

A lot of things were racing through his mind.

All of which is regrettable.

Hakon dragged a wooden chair and sat beside him on the sofa, where the UV lights of the lamps graced their protections more permanently than the UV bar. His own hand clasps J’s as he continues to be the worried uncle that he proclaims to be.

All he could do was wait for Lawan to come back.

He felt exhausted.

He was completely exhausted by it all.

He's desperately wanting to get some shut-eye, but he needs to know J will be okay.

Brushing up against death's door like that made the old man scared as hell.

The world was too cruel.

He'll just…

“Ha…kon?”

His eyes widen in response to the voice. 

J’s voice.

Quiet and pained, the young craftsman's broken voice filled the room. Hakon didn’t even notice at first, but now that the light was shining over him, he could see the very dark patches that had developed under J’s eyes, as well as the redness on the surface around his iris.

Before he could say anything, J would look down at his two arms. Wrapped in blood-stained bandages that Hakon had put around. Then his eyes were drawn towards his own.

Tears began to flow.

“I’m so…” he sobbed, “...fucking sorry–I didn’t know what to do I–”

He felt his heart was broken. 

The kid doesn’t deserve what was being thrown at him. He had already lost his family, and now he faces the world by himself.

“I was scared, Hakon—I thought I could have just ended the pain by turning off the lights, but... then I saw the glass.”

That is going to change.

He’s not going to let him walk the earth alone.

Not anymore.

Hakon stood from his chair, kneeling next to J as he embraced him in a hug.

He didn’t care if his jacket was going to be stained by the blood.

He didn’t care if the kid used it to brush his tears.

All he cares about is that J is safe and alive.

That’s all he can ask for.

“Shh...” he whispered, giving the kid the chance to let it all out. “I won’t leave you. Just…let it out.” brushing J’s hair with his hand. Something Iskander would do to console J when he was younger. “I promise, kiddo. Things will get better.”

Minutes passed as J continued to cling to Hakon, and Lawan returned with one of the PK doctors behind her. He would look at her for a moment, and at that instant, she knew that they still needed a moment—pushing the doctor and herself away,

Hakon could feel that J was finally calming down.

He knew that he had to do something.

And now, he has a promise to keep.

“Everything is going to be okay.”

[honeycombstrawberry]

These Moments w Adrian has me in a literal headlock it’s so good. if ur ever open to posting a part 2 where reader n Adrian actually get to kiss id scream, cry and die probably and be eternally in your debt. bUT only if you’d like of course! I’m loving this blog <3

jawbreaker

these moments, pt. 2

[read pt. 1 here]

pairing: adrian chase x reader (gn pronouns, gn sex descriptions)

rating: e+ (canon-typical violence and gore, explicit sexual content)

word count: 4,365

one-sentence synopsis: the next day doesn't quite go according to plan, but that doesn't mean that you and adrian don't end up getting what you want from it.

author's note: okay i fucked up making this a drabble. i hope everyone forgives me for only posting this today because it's like 4k+ of adrian slaughtering aliens and then fucking you into a desk like a maniac so i think it's worth it. anyways i hope everyone else likes this too!!!! enjoy!!!!!!

read on ao3!

“Duck!” Vigilante shouts, and you drop to the ground automatically, hands over the back of your head.

Only a second later, there’s a short, sharp whistle flying over your head. An explosion rocks the ground in front of you, and you don’t waste any time leaping back up to your feet, hauling yourself back into a sprint.

Vigilante catches up at your side, keeping a fast pace with you as you run. He turns around, trusting you to navigate a path through the trees as he takes aim at one of your pursuers and fires. You hear a choked-off scream behind you and a thud as a body falls, and you don’t break pace, taking Adrian’s arm to jerk him out of the way of tripping backwards over a root.

A gunshot rings out, and a bullet whizzes past the both of you. Adrian laughs, whirling to flip off whoever made the shot with one hand, taking aim with the other.

"You missed, motherfucker!" he calls out gleefully. He fires twice, then leaps and pushes himself into a twisting side flip so he lands facing forwards, sprinting along at your side again.

Adrian whoops, holding his hand up for a high-five, and you smack your gloved palm to his.

"Fuck yeah!" he shouts. He transfers his gun to his left hand, reaches out with his right so the two of you can thread your fingers together between you. You keep navigating forward, your vision tinted dark by the visor in your helmet.

You’d had every intention of cornering Adrian alone when you woke up this morning and making good on your promise to finish what he’d started last night, but you hadn’t had a very gentle wake-up call. Instead of waking up to swap shifts, you’d both awoken to Chris hurtling into the camp, shouting that they’d been seen and everybody needed to move now. You and Adrian had grabbed what you could, yanking on clothes and masks and holstering weapons before sprinting off into the woods with everybody else.

Now, you feel— admittedly relatively well-rested, since the sun’s up and you actually got a bit of decent sleep. Your adrenaline’s pumping, and you’re not entirely sure what’s going on, but you know you’re almost to the van, and nobody’s hurt, so you’re counting this as a win so far.

At your side, Adrian tilts his head just slightly. You look towards him for a fleeting second, and he’s releasing your hand.

“Keep going,” he says, “I’m following. I’ll be watching you.”

You do as he says. He keeps you in his peripheral vision, starting to jog backward again so he can keep his eyes on the trees behind you. There’s a bang, and he’s pinpointing the noise in the same moment you feel the whizz of vibrating air as a bullet flies over your shoulder, just barely missing your throat.

You yelp, and Adrian snarls, calling, “Who the fuck shot that?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, taking aim and firing his own weapon once, twice, th— unloading his gun, actually, and then holstering it and pulling out another one.

“Hey!” Adrian sprints up beside you, demanding to know, “Did that fucking hit you? Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m okay,” you promise him. He slows slightly, just enough that he can balance reaching out to touch your masked face with his gloved hand. You may have several layers of tough fabric between you, but you swear his touch still burns there. You can feel the heat of his eyes through the visors, as strong as his touch; you can see and feel him without seeing and feeling him.

“Okay, good,” Adrian says. He draws away so he can pull a knife into the hand your face was just in. “Keep it that way.”

“Over here!” Chris calls, and you change direction, hauling Adrian by the elbow to pivot him along with you. You come skidding into the clearing just as John brings the van screeching up.

“Get in!” John calls from inside. Emilia hauls the door open, turning to help Leota up into the back of the van. She grabs your hand next, yanking you up. Adrian comes rocketing in beside you, jumping off the ground to send himself crashing through the van without her help.

From outside, something rocks the van, and you turn to see people— who are definitely no longer strictly people, but morphing into huge reptilian beasts you’ve never seen outside of a movie theater before today— converging on Chris, the last of you into the van.

Nobody else has noticed yet, and you act on instinct, running and jumping back out onto the ground. Behind you, Emilia shouts your name.

“What the fuck?” you hear Adrian say. You ignore his voice, running to meet Chris with your gun drawn just as one of the mutating creatures pins him to the ground. You cock your gun, take aim, and fire, splattering blood and gore across your face and Chris’.

Behind you, there are pounding footsteps. You’re sure you know exactly which one of them was stupid enough to leave the van; you don’t need to look back to know it’s Adrian.

You offer Chris a hand to help him to his feet just as another creature comes launching down out of the trees. You draw your gun, but then, you hear a vicious snarl behind you— or, two vicious snarls: a man and a machine, and you almost would laugh, if you weren’t halfway through trying to save your own life, and the rest of the team’s. You drop to the ground, grabbing Chris and yanking him down with you, already knowing where this is going.

Adrian comes flying over the both of you a second after you fall flat to the ground, his chainsaw growling louder than the shrieks of the reptilian creatures. The machine howls as Adrian pushes it through the alien’s body, splitting the creature in half with a gory spray.

Even over the machine, you hear Adrian laugh, saying, “That’s what you get, motherfucker!” He turns around, finding you climbing to your feet. He holds the chainsaw up, blood soaked into both him and it, dripping off to the ground. “I fucking did it! Did you fucking see that? Oh, fuck, that was so fucking cool—”

You point above his head as another creature starts coming. You see the person the creature used to be before it starts mutating, and it looks like that lookalike Adrian had been suspicious of yesterday, the one who looked like Adam Driver and Jason Schwartzman had a baby, which is— kind of poetic, in its own way.

Adrian turns immediately when you point, trusting you, as always, to guide him. He shreds the creature with the buzzing saw as it tries to come down on him, splitting it from the skull down. Laughing, he leaps past it to tear through the trees, seeking out the creatures with a vicious delight.

“Jesus Christ,” Chris says.

“Yeah,” you agree, smiling inside your mask. “He’s something else, isn’t he?”

There’s an incredulous silence from Chris for a moment before he says, “You two belong together,” and it sounds like an accusation or a joke, but you can’t help but feel like it’s a compliment. Your grin widens.

“You should tell him that,” you say. “It’d mean a lot coming from you. Good references, you know.” You offer him your hand again, and he takes it. There was a time not so long ago he would’ve brushed you off and stood on his own; you can’t help but take this as growth, both for him as a person and for your friendship.

Chris claps you on the back when you start heading for the van, the both of you sprinting again, the urgency of the situation not lost on you. You’re sure that’s all the thanks you’ll get for saving him, which is okay with you; growth comes in pieces.

Emilia and Chris are just offering you hands up into the van when Adrian comes sprinting back into the clearing. His chainsaw is gone, and he’s running at top speed, shouting, “Go, go, go! Go! It’s Godzilla, go—”

Behind him, sure as fucking shit, the creatures have started joining together to form one huge fucked-up sort of reptile creature. One of the creatures that hasn’t yet become part of the mass leaps at Adrian, and you scream, but he’s already twisting against it. He jumps up, swinging himself around onto the thing’s back with an arm around its throat. He snaps its neck, tucks and rolls over its body as it falls.

The next creature that grabs him sees a knife slid up into the soft underside of its jaw before Adrian’s lopping its head off, and the next— and last— that snatches at his ankles with its teeth gets the last of his violent rage.

Adrian twists around, hauling himself up so he’s wrapped around the creature from the front, knocking it flat on its back. He pulls back, then starts beating the shit out of the lizard monster, raining blows on it until it's an unrecognizable mass of blood and flesh, dead on the ground. When it’s stopped moving— long after it’s stopped moving— Adrian picks himself up off the ground and chases after the van, leaping into it just as John revs the engine and starts driving back through the trees.

Chris and Emilia are shouting back and forth at each other, arguing about what they should do about this thing, but you just watch Adrian as he gets to his feet in the back of the van. He reaches up to tug his mask off of his face, sucking in a deep breath when he does.

Adrian turns to evaluate his options among the weapons set in the mount along the inside wall of the van. He spends only a moment there before plucking one of the compact rocket launchers from the selection. He only pauses to slip his glasses on before he situates himself in the center of the van. Humming to himself, he gets to one knee on the floor, unfolds the machine in quick snaps, loads it, and peeks into the sight.

He’s still humming to himself as he aims and fires directly into the huge monster’s mouth. You watch him as he grins, eyes fixed on the beast; it’s only then that you turn to see it, too, as it suddenly bursts into an explosion of scales and flaming chunks of lizard insides and a shower of blood that patters on the top of the roof like rain.

In the aftermath, Adrian laughs, exclaiming, “Oh, shit, I think this is the coolest day of my fucking life! Did you see that shit? Holy shit!”

He runs a hand back through his hair, leaving blood streaked through it. Eyes wild, he whirls, seeking you out where you’re holding yourself upright by the driver’s seat.

Adrian stumbles over to you, the van jostling under him as he tries to walk. The van doors slam shut behind him, Chris reaching to haul them closed, and the inside of the van is at least quieter now, even if your blood is still rushing in your ringing ears.

You look up, heart pounding, as Adrian reaches up and tears your mask off, too. You inhale deeply, getting your lungs full of fresh air, seeing Adrian unfiltered.

“Hey,” Adrian says, then drops down, gathering you close to him. He cups your jaw in his gloved hands before realizing he still has his gloves on, curses, “Fuck, hold on, let me just—” and yanks them off, getting his bare hands on your bare skin, heedless of the blood he’s smearing, leftover from his gloves.

He’s a fucking maniac. You just watched him tear through all those people— and monsters— and that fucking giant— thing, whatever that was— with glee. This is the coolest day of his life, he’s just told you. Mowing down people with a chainsaw, blowing up an alien mutant, massacring hordes like he’s a dark fucking Superman or something.

You couldn’t be more in love with him. You couldn’t be more turned on by him. He’s making you feel insane. You think you might be unhinged, but at least, in that case, you both are, together.

“Hey,” you reply, heat gathering low in your belly, an electric charge that sparks up your spine to explode in your chest.

You tilt your head up, lifting your chin, and even Adrian gets the hint on that one. Heedless of the rattling van, holding himself up with one hand braced against the roof above him, Adrian reaches up with his other hand to cup your jaw in his hand. His thumb sweeps along your cheek, his eyes meeting yours for a moment before he smiles. He smiles, like he didn’t just kill all those things, like he didn’t just take all those lives, and you can’t help smiling back.

Adrian drops his head so he can brush his nose against yours, just for a moment. It’s like all the anticipation from yesterday is coiling inside you again. The intensity of not only that, but of the amount of the time you’d even been waiting before— It’s been so long that you’ve wanted Adrian, and he’s been just out of reach, drawing closer and closer but never near enough for you to just— grab.

Finally, he’s here, right within your reach, and you reach up to thread your arms around his neck, trusting him to keep the both of you upright even as the van bumps out onto the road. You don’t care about your audience, or the gore, or any of it. You just care that you finally have him, that he’s holding you like you’re something so precious after you just watched these hands annihilate entire lives.

You part your lips without thinking, eyes flickering from his eyes down to his mouth, waiting for him to draw you together. He exhales shakily, then finally, finally, finally drops down to kiss you.

It’s everything, everything you ever wanted from him, everything you’ve ever needed from him. He tilts his head just slightly, loosens his jaw so he can part your lips further and lick into your mouth immediately. Only a moment later, he withdraws, and kisses you bruisingly hard. A flare of heat rockets down through you, and you kiss back as hard as you can, letting him consume you. He bites at your lower lip, he glides along your tongue, he presses closer and harder into you, the two of you gasping for breath but unwilling to part.

After so long not doing this, you never want to stop doing this. The only reason you do stop is Chris saying, “Okay, Jesus, just— Stop fucking humping each other, this is disgusting.”

“You’re covered in guts,” Leota agrees.

“They’re licking each other,” Chris argues, like that’s the bigger issue.

You draw away, not quite paying enough attention to them to laugh. You do smile, though, eyes flicking up to meet Adrian’s again. His pupils are blown dark, leaving only a ring of bright green around their edges as he looks you over.

“Where are we?” Adrian asks.

“We’re, like, two minutes from headquarters,” John tells him.

“Pull over,” Adrian says. Another flare of heat explodes in you as he keeps his eyes fixed on you. He drops his head down, close to the shell of your ear, promises, “I can’t wait to fucking just— Touch you, I want— I want to fuck you— I’ll fuck you against a tree if I have to—”

“He said two minutes,” you reply breathlessly, even as the image of Adrian forcibly stopping a van so he can fuck you against a tree because he can’t wait two minutes after waiting literal months knocks your heart into an even faster breakneck pace than it’d been in before.

“Fuck,” Adrian groans out. He slams his fist against the roof of the car, then glares at John through the rearview mirror. Pointing at him through the reflection, he says, “Two minutes.”

“Jesus Christ, okay, I’m driving,” John snaps back at him.

“That was so fucking cool,” you tell Adrian. He looks back down at you, all delight again, written across the flushed strokes of his face.

“Wasn’t that just—” Adrian is briefly speechless, trying to figure out what he wants to say, and ends up making a noise instead, a wordless, excited shriek of a noise before he’s diving back in to kiss you again. Against your lips, he starts speaking again, says, “I’m feeling so fucking good, like, my blood’s fucking pumping, I really blew that thing up— Hey, what the fuck was that?” Adrian asks, twisting away to ask Emilia. “Do you know what the fuck I just killed?”

“Nothing good,” she answers, and Adrian fist-pumps in the air before twisting back for another biting kiss.

John screeches into the parking lot at your little innocuous office-building headquarters, where you and the 11th Street Kids are used to hiding in plain sight. When Chris kicks open the back of the van, Adrian throws you over his shoulder. You inhale in a sharp gasp, startled. His arm wraps around your legs, his hand holding your hip as he hops out to the parking lot.

Adrian shoves open the front door of the office, striding past the conference table to take you into the mostly-empty back office. He kicks the door shut behind him with a hard slam, sending it rattling in its frame. He brings you right to the desk, using his free arm to sweep everything on it onto the ground so he can throw you down on top of it, flat on your back.

In the next second, Adrian’s wrestling out of his uniform, tearing the clasps on his chest armor apart to send them peeling to the ground. He kicks it all aside, climbing up and over you onto the solid wood desk, stripped down to his boxers, skin slick with sweat. He glides up over you, finding the zipper on your own tight uniform, drawing it down in a sharp tug that bares your skin in a heated rush.

“Did you like that?” Adrian asks, pushing your uniform back off your shoulders. He tears your clothes down off of you, your hot skin meeting the cool desk in a flash that leaves prickles all over your flesh. “Wasn’t that awesome? What’d you—” His mouth finds your throat, teeth and wet heat that draw back a split second later. “What’d you think?”

“I think you’re amazing,” you tell him breathlessly. He shoves you further up the desk, sets himself between your legs, spreading your thighs apart. He licks over you, the flat of his tongue just— tasting you, for a moment— and your head knocks back into the desk, your back arching up. “Oh, fuck— I think you’re so amazing, you’re incredible, Adrian, I’m—”

Your voice breaks off with a sharp cry, and your hand flies up to cover your own mouth and muffle the noise. Adrian reaches up blindly, tugging sharply at your elbow to free you.

“Let me hear you,” he orders you. His hands come to your thighs again, spreading you apart, drawing your leg up over his shoulder to hook there.

When you push up onto one elbow to look down at him, you can see him already looking at you— looking down at you, spreading your legs further apart so he can reach between you and spread you apart. His face is flushed, cheeks red, up to the tips of his ears; he tugs his glasses off and tosses them aside before he drops back in again. He tilts your hips for you so he can dip in again, getting a better angle to lick inside of you. His other hand comes up to work you at your core, threading up above his head to get his fingers on your properly.

Your hips buck up of their own accord, and Adrian shoves you back down. His nose brushes along the inside of your thigh, and you make a strangled noise that rips up out of your chest, falling back again. You slam your bare palm down flat on the desk.

“Fuck, Adrian,” you curse as he keeps his mouth busy on you, jaw working, eating you like he’s trying to devour you. You can feel rocketing heat gathering stronger and stronger, coiling tighter and tighter at your core. You’re near tears, practically crying from the edge, from the near-overstimulation, wanting so badly to have him forever, to never have this end, to have this end now.

You’re throbbing, and you reach down, grasping blindly at him, fisting a hand in his hair. Adrian lets you guide him up, just slightly, before he twists to bite at the inside of your thigh. You cry out, face twisting sideways into the desk, leaving a smear of sweat and tears.

Adrian turns to lick into you one last time, tongue deep inside, keeping you spread wet and open, before he draws back to stand again. It’s only for a breath of a second before he kicks out of his boxers and slides up your body again, the hard, hot line of his cock gliding wet up your thigh, pressing hard into your belly when he drops down to kiss you.

“Oh, fuck, you’re the fucking— best person I know,” Adrian tells you, and you huff a laugh, smiling as you throw your arm over your face. “No, hey, c’mon, hey—” He reaches up, lifts your arm, tugging it up so he can see your face again. He cups your jaw, kisses your cheek, the corner of your mouth, your lips. “Oh, fuck, thank you. Thank you for letting me do this, I want—” He bites your lower lip again, his kiss bruisingly hard. “I want you so fucking bad, can I—”

“Yeah,” you tell him, “Please, just—”

He seals his mouth with yours again, dripping sweat, smearing streaks of dried pink blood across your slick skin. He guides the head of his cock to your loose hole, wet where he’s worked you open until you fell apart around his tongue.

You grip the strong cut of his jaw now as he licks into your mouth like he’d like inside you before, and you grind up into him, desperate for friction where you want it most.

When Adrian pushes in, he groans your name, biting it off into your mouth before he drops to bury his face in your throat. His jaw keeps working, mouth open against your skin as he thrusts into you in a deep, hard push, his hips driving to meet yours.

He doesn’t hesitate, lifting up so he can take your hips in his hands and start fucking you in earnest. He bows over you, pushing you as far back as he can get you to go, lifting your leg to hitch up again so he can change and deepen his angle in you. You swear he can feel him fucking up into your throat, devouring your body with his, hungry for every inch of you. You can hardly believe that twelve hours ago, you’d never kissed him before; you think you’ll never be able to stop kissing him again.

Adrian keeps repeating your name, saying, “Fuck, oh fuck, you feel so good, you feel so tight, you’re so hot, you’re so—” He bites into the meat of your shoulder, clings to you, doesn’t let you go. You dig your nails into him, clinging to him, and he impossibly speeds up. The desk drawers rattle under the force of him fucking you into the desktop, and you fall apart under him. “Oh, fuck, I can’t— I can’t—”

He drags you up for another biting, hot kiss, keeping his eyes open like a freak. You do the same thing, keeping that eye contact as you rocket closer and closer to your edge. Your blood is boiling, has been for fucking hours, and you’re finally, finally there, shooting over the edge.

“Adrian, fuck—” punches up out of your throat. You’re overwhelmed with the heat that overflows through you, your mind whiting out.

Adrian’s teeth find your throat again when his hips fuck deep into you and still, his shoulders shaking, your name muffled by your own flesh as it pours out of his mouth into your skin. After a few moments, he shifts, thrusting again to fuck you through the rattlign aftershocks, riding each wave of his orgasm through your body.

When he finally stops, he drops to press into you like a heavy human blanket, burying his face in the space behind your ear, kissing along to your jaw. Every kiss is wet, sloppy, open-mouthed, dragging into the next.

“Sorry,” Adrian apologizes. “I made a mess.”

You laugh breathlessly, reaching up to thread your hands through the sweat-slick hair at the back of his head. “Don’t worry about it. I don’t mind a little bit of a mess.”

Adrian lifts his head to look you over, then grins. “You look like you got got.” His fingertips trail over your throat, down your shoulder. His touch dips into the bruises and bites he’s left behind all over you. “Fuck, that’s so hot. Hey, if you don’t mind waiting, like, ten minutes, I think I could probably fuck you again—”

“Adrian,” you tell him, “We are a fucking mess, this is— not the time, we should—”

Adrian drops to drag his tongue flat over one of the deeper bite marks in your shoulder, sending a spark rattling down your spine, spreading like a haze through your insides. You exhale sharply, grabbing at his hip.

“What’s up?” Adrian asks, smug, delighted with himself.

“Just— Shut up and get back up here,” you say, and Adrian drags up to kiss you again, slick and lazy, still smiling.

"You don't tell me what to do," he says. He's unable to stop grinning. "I tell you what to do," but he still draws up closer and kisses you again.

-

adrian chase taglist:

@violetrainbow412-blog @bigassbisaster @amysuemc @sunflowerfive @papitas-con-sal @saturnngal @neptuneswritingwork @jewishdelis @myguiltypleasures21 @pinkygunslingy @violinchick @r3tr0sp3ct @chaseadrian @breathing-in-waves @rishlurh @x-milf-hunter-x @goblynnrockz @theowritesstuff @jaysfav @themartiansdaughter @dallasvakarian @missscarlettangel @pieriinova @samantha24015 @hillaryroadheadcllinton @ohmybubbletea @buckys-estrella

[cheezyballs7]

Hi! I’d like to request some ✨angst✨maybe kujou sara x fem reader in a secret relationship. And then the reader is part of the resistance and sara only found out when they saw each other on the battlefield. Thank youuu

I HATE U ANNON- I wrote this while I was listening to Sir Chloe so fuck knows how sad it is, but my heart broke- U BROUGHT THIS UPON YOURSELF- also this ended up with the reader being gn rather than fem cuz i never really specified so- welp enjoyy!

Kujou sara x gn reader

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

Sara and I had been together for a while. But with her being in the shoguns army I couldn’t necessarily tell her that I was working with the resistance. She wasn’t allowed to be In a relationship in her current position, and neither was I so we kept it secret.

We’d meet up at midnight every friday and walk along the beach shore under the moon, hand in hand. Some days we’d walk in silence, just appreciating being together.

Other days we’d engage in deep conversation. Both of us not liking small talk chose to be silent when we had nothing to talk about.

Some Days we’d sit on a rock overlooking the beach and we’d cry hand in hand, arm in arm.

Some days we’d speak about what bothered us and other times we’d just cry, without question. Some days I’d wait and she never came, I’d assume she was busy. Her job is 24/7 after all.

Some Days she’d wait for me and I’d never come. My job is also 24/7. But every time we said goodnight before we left each other. We both liked it this way. We knew each other as the people we really are, not by title. We loved each other because of love, not because of position or power.

But It was a sure startle seeing her charge at our forces on the beach that day. Having to put my love behind me for my morals and for my people.

Charging at her, weapon in hand, her face was scared and confused. It pained my heart as she drew her bow and aimed it at me. She looked hurt. I felt horrible.

I knew she had a vision, I knew she was part of the army but she didn’t know that about me.

With the same look on her face she stood her ground and screamed “Hand over your vision in the name of the vision hunt decree!” I picked up my pace as she let the arrow go. The arrow barely grazed my cheek. I struck her bow with my polerarm. With tears in my eyes, I whispered “I knew we’d never be able to love each other.” I could feel her grip waver. She looked down, then back at me.

“Why…didn’t you tell me?” I wanted to burst, to hug her and cry. To beg her for my forgiveness but I couldn’t. I had to be strong, for my soldiers. She pulled me in for what I thought was a hug before she pushed me away again.

“I’m so so sorry,” I whispered airily. The look she gave me made me collapse. It was a mix of sadness, anger and betrayal. “Just…give me your vision,” she said with her hand extended. Either to help me up or to take my vision. I grabbed her hand and got up before screaming to my troops, “retreat!” I looked Sara in the eyes before running after my troops. That night I waited at the beach down by inazuma city, where we normally meet. She never came. The next night, and the next. Until finally I came to her sitting on the sand.

I walked up to her, quietly saying “Please, my love, get up. You’ll get your clothing dirty,” she looked at me and got up. “I came to say goodbye, nothing more, nothing less.” My heart sank. Of course, why else. “Maybe we’ll meet again after the vision hunt. But I cannot disobey the shogun like this,” Sara said with a firm stance, but with hurt in her eyes. Without saying anything I stood face to the ground.

I could hear her walk away. That's when I fell to my knees and put my vision on the sand where she once stood. The light blue cryo vision staring back at me. I then left, Hoping she’d come back tomorrow and find my peace offering. My apology. And it's true, she did find it. Because when I came back the next night, In place of my vision was a crow feather. 

But at this point, I didn’t know why I came back, I didn’t recognise the crow feather. For with my vision gone, parts of my memory faded, my aspiration, faded. Sara was my aspiration, now even she has faded from my memory. I hope someday she’ll come to return my vision to me, and we’ll walk hand in hand on the beach.

[tomurasprincess]

shinsou trying to tame his bratty little sister but he’s scared to put his foot down so he calls aizawa to help him. (if you feel uncomfortable writing this i totally understand you don’t have to)

Warnings: Noncon, incest, brat taming, orgasm denial, overstimulation, yandere

Notes: Another old request, I am very sorry. Hope it was worth the wait, however.

“Sensei, I don’t know what to do with her. She’s out of control, won’t listen to me at all.”

Aizawa hums a bit as he considers the problem, wondering just how to put this next statement so that Shinsou will go for it. “I have an idea,” he murmurs, “but it’s a bit extreme.”

“I don’t care. I don’t want to have to use my quirk on her.”

“Then follow my lead.”

They both enter your room at the same time, both with severe looks on their faces. You instantly realize something is wrong, feeling a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. “What’s going on?”

Suddenly, Aizawa’s capture weapon shoots out, wrapping around your wrists and hanging them above your head from the sturdy light fixture on the ceiling. 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” You snap at them, glancing over to Hitoshi as you wait for his help. “Hitoshi, you need to fucking stop him.”

“No, I don’t think I’m going to,” he says casually, watching your face twist in confusion and anger at having been denied. 

“What the hell?”

“He called me in to help discipline you,” Aizawa explains like he’s talking to a child. “He said you’re being quite the disobedient brat.”

“Oh, go fuck yourselves,” you snarl at him as you pull against your binds. But Aizawa’s capture weapon doesn’t break or even give, and so you’re left to swing around with only your toes dragging the ground. 

“Why would we do that when we have you all bound up for us?” Aizawa murmurs, bringing out a knife that he trails down your clothes. He briefly glances over at Hitoshi to see if he protests, but the man only has a determined look on his face.

Good, Aizawa thinks to himself, that means he’ll go through with this.

You’re still not fully aware of the danger you’re in, and so you continue to snarl at them. “Look, both of you are acting fucking psycho. Let me down. Now.” 

“No.” 

The single, blunt word from Aizawa has you reeling before the knife slices through your clothes as if they were hot butter. He pulls the remains off your body as he cuts, careful not to cut your skin.

At least not yet.

You gape at them both as you’re left completely exposed to their gazes, unsure what to do now that you realize they’re serious about this.

“I - I don’t understand,” you finally whisper, glancing back at your brother with wide eyes as you silently plead for help. “Hitoshi, nii-san,” you say quietly, “aren’t you going to stop him?”

He chuckles a bit, moving closer to you as he glances up and down your body. “Why would I do that, when you’re already behaving better?” He looks at his mentor, look in his eyes clearly asking Aizawa what to do next.

“Look, just let me go please. I’m sorry, I’ll start being better, I promise.”

“I don’t think she’s learned her lesson yet.” He reaches down to graze your bare pussy, and you whimper as you try to jerk away. “She’s only being sorry because we’re calling her bluff.”

“Stop touching me!” You pull at your binds again, but only succeed in spinning around in a complete circle. “I said I’m sorry, now please stop!”

“See? I told you,” Aizawa chuckles as he moves behind you. You feel cold fingers probing at your tight back entrance, and your eyes widen as you glance at Hitoshi for help again.

Only to see that his cock is out of his pants, rock hard as he lazily strokes himself. 

“Hitoshi,” you whisper, “why are you doing this?” He walks closer to you, lining himself up with your pussy as he smirks.

“Because you need to be put into your place, little sis,” he chuckles, and then he sheathes himself inside his sister’s pussy with one sharp thrust of his hips. 

“Fuck,” he breathes out, “you’re so damned tight.” 

Tears prick at the corner of your vision, sliding down your face in big droplets. “It hurts, nii-san!”

“Good.” And then he’s moving, hips smacking against yours as he brutally fucks you. You whine from the back of your throat as he deliberately aims for that sensitive spot inside of you that he seems to know like the back of his hand.

His fingers come to trace hard circles along your swollen clit, and you you bite back the moan that threatens to leave you. An scared whimper comes from you as you feel something hot and hard pressing against your ass.

“Did you forget about me, brat?” And then pain unlike any you’ve felt as he pushes inside of your barely prepared asshole. 

“Shit shit shit, please, oh god it hurts - “

Hitoshi doesn’t even bother to slow down, continuing to thrust into your pussy that is quickly leaking juices all over him from the hard movement against your g-spot. But when he feels the telltale clench that signifies how close you are to cumming, he stops. You’re horrified by the unabashed whine that leaves your throat from being denied.

Aizawa finally bottoms out inside of your ass, giving you no time to adjust before setting a fast pace with your brother instantly. “Please please please,’ you beg, not even sure what you’re begging for anymore. 

“Do you want to cum?” Your brother asks you, and you can’t figure out how to answer, not sure what you’re wanting right now.

“I - I don’t know,“ you sob, “please just stop - “

Aizawa snorts at you. “Not until you’ve learned your lesson. Beg your brother for forgiveness and we’ll let you cum.”

You try to be strong. You really do. But your orgasm is denied over and over again, until you would do anything just to cum, just to relieve the pressure and lust burning through you. 

“Please nii-san, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” you sob, “I promise I’ll be good, just let me cum!”

“Hmm,” your brother hums to himself, glancing over your shoulder to your mentor who is still thrusting into your sore ass. “What do you think?”

“I think we can let her cum,” Aizawa murmurs, and you shriek as they overstimulate you into your orgasm, causing you to squirt all over them and onto the floor. They don’t stop there however, now making you cum so much that you can no longer think or speak. You think you even black out once or twice, only coming to to them still moving inside of you.

By the time they’ve finished with you, you’re convinced that you’ll never misbehave again, never do anything against the two of them.

Little do you know, they have every intention of punishing you often.