#little bit of monster fucking in this chapter

[thewollfgang]

Chapter Summary:

“Oh, G-” she cuts herself off, but the damage is done.

Lucifer flinches, as if struck. His lip curls, revealing too sharp canines. The ligaments of his jaw shift as he speaks, as if burned away, teeth peeking between the gaps. “Now you see me as I truly am. The Devil.”

Rating: Mature

Fandom: Lucifer (TV)

Relationships: Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar

Additional Tags: Time Travel, Fix-It, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Season/Series 03, BAMF Chloe Decker, BAMF Lucifer, Wing Grooming, Sexual Content, Voyeurism, Monster Fucking,

[hamsamwich23]

small clip from that scrapped fic miku miku ooooeeeeeooooo

❗Trigger warnings for implications of murder/death❗

"When I first woke up again, I was in his garden."

"Everything was pitch black and freezing cold. I tried to move my arms and legs, but I was stuck. I couldn't do anything, it was like I was trapped in some sort of void."

"I couldn't take it, so i cried. I cried out for my mom and dad, for someone, anyone to save me... I even cried out for them."

"...But nobody came"

"mm...and when they DID come, the people who mattered the most to you when you were alive you couldn't feel ANYTHING?"

"Exactly. As hard as I tried..I couldn't feel the same way Asriel did about them. I should have felt at least something...But I just felt... Numb. Empty. And it all went downhill from there"

The flower lowered its head as the puppet sighed gently.

"For me it was...the opposite. In a twisted sort of way"

"in the beginning, I had barely been woken up. In fact, I was in the process of being brought to life by the same spell book that gave life to my family."

"there was a quick flash of bright lights in an odd room. And then something, Or I guess SOMEONE, blocked my way.. Everything became dark again."

"When The darkness returned, everything was warm... And then I felt pain."

"Tugging. Yanking, Tearing, Stabbing, AGONIZING pain."

"My entire body felt like it had been torn into pieces and the warm feeling was getting worse, it felt like I was burning up"

"I tried to scream for help, but nothing came out. I couldn't move my mouth or my arms... all I could do was lay there, crying to myself as the pain consumed me.."

"I was trapped like that, all the way until the spell was cast a second time...Roughly ten years later."

[waywardsalt]

.

[swampjawn]

Dungeon Meshi Episode 7 was super interesting from an adaptation standpoint - this'll be a little different from what I usually write about (though I do still talk about the animation in the full video).

Studio Trigger have never done a straight-up manga adaptation before - and led by Yoshihiro Miyajima, a big fan of the manga who pushed hard for the adaptation to get made, and who has never directed a full series before, it was unclear if they'd be able to find the right balance between a simple panel-for-panel recreation and making something that's completely different.

And in the first few episodes, you could really feel the tension between the influence of a cautious young creative with great respect for the source material, and a studio with a unique established visual style. It kinda seemed like they were ping-ponging willy-nillily between the two sides of that spectrum.

But this episode showed that Miyajima (and series writer Kimiko Ueno) can take 3 chapters, slice them up and rearrange them into a cohesive-feeling episode while taking into account the differences between screen and page, and using them to their advantage.

Starting with the way the water looks. This line from the manga describes a faint magical glow to the water in this lake and you can see that the cavern fades into darkness above, but Kui's illustration style doesn't really define lighting and shadows very much compared to the cel-drawing style of animation. So the animators took the opportunity to use the water as the light source, and make a whole episode that's lit almost entirely from below. It really gives an otherworldly feeling to this area.

Particularly when the Kelpie shows up, that under-lighting works wonders to define its anatomy within the relatively simple line art.

What do you do when you can't show the immense fuck-off scale of a monster with a beautiful full-page spread like this?

Well you use what you do have: the ability to move the camera instead. This is such a great way to communicate the scale of this thing, AND such a great way to show some of Senshi's anime-original butt-cheeks!

This is one of my favorite shots from this episode - this whole sequence is super hectic, cutting quickly from character to character, but they use tricks like this to keep you from getting confused. This is framed much like it is in the manga, but with the moving image, they're able to use the trajectory of the fish head in the background to lead your eye directly from Chilchuck, right to the point where Senshi pops up in the foreground and transition seamlessly from one character to another!

Now, it's not all good - I am a bit disappointed that they removed Marcille's own Senshi-style soap-making montage, which was the perfect visual representation of the culmination of the character development and understanding built between Senshi and Marcille.

It's a shame to see it go.

I get more into that, what else was cut, and much more in this video where I broke down the entire episode!

Check it out if you feel like it. If you don't, jump in a ditch, cover yourself in leaves and jump out at people as they walk by.

Thanks for reading!

[jazjelspen]

scarlet and silver lining (part 1)

(alastor w/ daughter reader)

(fem reader/notproofread!/apologies for anything ooc qwq/apologies for the pacing as well!!!! It’s 1AM LMAO—)

[chapter 1]

Sure, you didn’t actually want to redeem yourself.

Personally, you knew you were in the right place and were meant to be in this spot in the afterlife. You weren’t bloodthirsty and power hungry like the rest of the monsters down here but your sins were from your reckless decisions and you knew you couldn’t take it back.

So in turn, you didn’t truly trust the princess’s claims and theories.

But here you were, in her hotel through her doorstep. Dragging you along by your wrist being gentle but also filled with such excitement that she might’ve tugged a bit too hard for your preference.

As she led you to introduce yourself to the other residents and staff, you couldn’t help but wonder why exactly you let yourself get into this predicament.

Then again, you didn’t really have a choice.

_______________________________

Your hands stopped from fixing your hair, you had been stunned from preparing yourself for the next twenty minutes you’d be on air. Your face contorting while your eyes stared dead at your reflection at the mirror decorated with bright little light bulbs all around it’s frame as they shined their lights on you. Your hands shaking slightly and barley starting to sweat.

Why exactly were you shocked? Your boss.

“See here ____, what I need you to do is to simply get in through inside the princess’s little hotel and spy for me for a few weeks here and there! Document everything for me, whichever way you can. “

Vox, your boss, was ordering you on a new mission for you to do. He wouldn’t have you do these kinds of things regularly unless he needed some kind of spy or a pretty face for a segment of his show to get more ratings or as a distraction of sorts. Although lately he’s been sounding more aggravated, annoyed—dying to get what he wants. He was facing the set his crew were preparing as they fixed a few lights, checked if the cameras were functioning, etc.

It was good that he was facing that way and you the other, for if he saw your look of shock and slight fear spreading across your face like a disease he would probably question you like some kind of unruly detective for it.

But why wouldn’t you react this way? After all, he was asking you to spy and be around your father. The man you were ashamed of being connected to. He didn’t know this— he didn’t have to know this. For you knew Vox would simply use and wear you out as a pawn, overwork you, maybe torture you and hurt you to get specific answers.

He wasn’t afraid of doing anything to get what he wants anyway.

“Tape recorder, journal, write it on some fucking menstrual pad I don’t fucking care. I simply need to know what that fucker is thinking of doing next with Lucifer’s daughter now on his fucking shoulder.”

He snapped, static overtaking his voice at the end of his sentences. Clearly absolutely finished with this entire situation especially since for all you knew the last time someone tried to sneak in for him they were caught in the matter of a day, and if you didn’t have a direct connection to Vox he would’ve sent you first.. but now you were one of his only options until he really got frustrated.

“Oh but do this for me and you’ll get your own little studio! Your own show! Be your own boss, have your own crew.. you get the idea. All financially supported by me! Oh and you even get to live by yourself.. although—

I still own you. Get that. But you get your little artistic freedom huh sweetheart? What do you say? Do this little favor for me? If you don’t I’ll simply.. kill you.

Or throw you in the streets. Depending on how badly you fuck up you’ll get either one of the two! You’ll die either way.”

You were left a bit shocked, the immense dump of information overwhelming you so. “I—I—“

“Good.” He cut you off.. geez. “You start in two days, two days to get what you need and to at least plan how you’ll keep me updated. And remember, you give me all the information either throughout your stay there or you spit it all out when I need you to still be here on the job.” He fixed his bow tie walking towards the set to start the broadcast, a strong frown decorating his screen before hiding his stress with a cocky smile for the cameras.

You looked at your reflection with a grim look on your face, heart sinking and a shaky sigh escaped.

You didn’t want to see him again. You couldn’t.. you— wouldn’t.

But you needed to do it whether you liked it or not. You knew this.

Survive, get a few more perks and bonuses that would very much make you live your afterlife a bit more comfortably.

It’s just gonna be a month right?— Fuck.. Vox didn’t specify how long simply just… a few weeks. Most likely he just wants you to be there as long as you could.

Keep your life, get a better job, better home home, stay protected. That’s what you’ve been focusing for all these years—

Why stop now.

____________________________________

Dragged by the princess you were stopped in front of a group of sinners, your other hand almost losing its grip on your suitcase but managed to catch it by the tips of your fingers. The sweat from the anxiety that was accumulating while on your way here.

It weirded you out a bit that Charlie didn’t react to your drenched hand. maybe she was too overwhelmed with emotions as well to notice?…

Charlie set you in front of a pink spider, someone you knew all too well from the constant advertisements, short interactions with him, and Valentino’s undying yapping, Angel Dust.

“Angel, meet ____, _____ meet Angel!! She’s going to stay here for a chance at redemptiooon!! How amazing!” Her excitement was pouring out like thunder and lightening, just simply uncontainable.

The pink soul darted its eyes at you with a sense of familiarity. You knew being a known figure would be a bit of a challenge but god— you really wanted that place to yourself.

“Heyy.. Angel..” you waved a little sheepishly, knowing how awkward this feels for you at least.

Angel eyed you a bit intensely, but you knew deep down he sorta understood why you’d be here as well— at least not knowing that Vox himself sent you here—maybe he thinks that your presence is due to the same reason he’s away from Valentino. Needing an escape from your abusers and bosses was something he understood all too well.

“Hiya cutie, didn’t expect to see you here of all places.” He smirked as he waved back at you but in a more confident and laid back way than you did.

Charlie paused at his words, “Oh? You two know eachother?—“

“Oh.. I know this adorable face anywhere!” Angel exclaimed proudly with one of his arms reaching over to squish one of your cheeks playfully, you laughing a bit due to the slight awkwardness of the situation but also because he was one of the very few people you never had issues with despite how much you guys never really talked much.

“She’s a real darling, hard worker and all. Although.. didn’t think your boss was that bad as to make you want to run in here of all places..”

“I was about to say— aren’t you that chick that is on TV for that one overlord’s show or somethin’…” a low and almost growly voice spoke from slightly farther away.

Looking towards that particular direction you are met with a cat-like person, a furry soul with fluffy ears and a seemingly insatiable thirst for alcohol the way he drank down a large bottle of cheap booze like water.

Your shoulders raised up a bit in embarrassment, smiling as a way to cover up your nervousness that was already slipping.

“Didn’t we also literally catch Pentious trying to work for him literally not that long ago?.. At this point they aren’t even trying to hide it by sending her here.” Spoke another, this time a more serious female voice descended from a mature woman with long silver hair and an ‘X’ over her eye that resembled those of the exorcists.. huh.

You shook your hands together a bit as you tried to defend yourself in a way, not wanting to be caught this easily “Oh nonono!.. I’m not here because my boss sent me I— I just..—“

“Yknow what Vagina,” Angel interrupted you to glare at the woman that spoke “If you knew anything about how the V’s treat their employees you wouldn’t blame her and I for wanting to be away from them and anything work related.. got it toots?”

Your heart warmed slightly but also let out a huge sigh of relief. Maybe that wasn’t the real reason why you were here but you were glad to know that Angel was someone you could relate the most due to your very similar situations.

“Yea Vaggie! Let’s give her a chance! If Angel knows her and if we make sure she’s here for reals then she’s a perfect second official resident!!”

The girl, now named Vaggie by Charlie, rolls her eyes as she lets out a sigh. “Can we at least check if she has no electronics on her. If this turns out to be another Pentious I will not hesitate this time.”

A single glare from her one eye piercing you with a sharp and merciless spike. Making you feel even more nervous and unwelcomed but.. you knew you had to just keep going..

“Oh Vaggie no need to be so rude to our new guest! We can do those checks later! Right now it’s introduction time!!” She exclaimed almost jumping up a down, a bit too joyous for your liking.

Angel noticed this and side eyed you while whispering a cheeky comment to you “Ms. Rainbow pants here may be a bit much but you’ll get used to it sweetcheeks.” He said, with a tone more sounding of an older brother of sorts.

You smiled a bit at him but then looked away to try to relax, not excited to be ‘introduced’ to someone you knew was in the far.. far corner of it all.

“Oh and this is Vaggie! My girlfriend and manager of this establishment! If you have any issues or concerns you may check in with her, she’s a-ma-zing!” Despite making her sound helpful and less.. terrifying. You couldn’t help but still feel rather intimidated.

Vaggie continued to glare at you with a clear distrust in you. You just waved at her shyly as well, trying to at least not seem as dangerous as she may think you are.

Until Charlie once again dragged you to four other figures, the fourth one a bit behind the first three. “And this is Husk the bartender, Nifty our housekeeper and cook, and Sir Pentious! Pentious being one of our first official residents!”

She spoke each name by pointing to which name belonged to who, Pentious’s name ringing a bell but it was new seeing his appearance. So this is the guy that forced Vox to drag you here instead..

Husk, the cat that spoke earlier simply looked at you and didn’t give another word, downing yet another bottle. Pentious waved at you with the same energy you gave as well but was more or less focused on his ‘eggs’ that were poking at the flesh around his eyes on his tail and Nifty.. well..

She was on top of you, more specifically— your head.

She was sniffing you, eying you like a fucking hawk, inspecting you as if you could be contaminated with a dying virus— your breath hitched as you hoped she wouldn’t smell the fear growing on you as your skin went cold.

“Fairly.. clean….” She then backed up slightly to inspect your eyes with her own giant one only to then scurry off across your body like a bug, causing you to get disgusting goosebumps.

“Pretty.. smells nice.. no dirt—“ she then stopped by suddenly standing in front of you with a big ol’ smile as if what she just did was incredibly normal.

“Hiya! I’m Nifty! Had to make sure you weren’t bringing any filth in the hotel.. I just cleaned this place…” She took out her little hand for you to shake.. being hesitant but not willing to be rude to someone this peculiar— you shook her hand with just two of your fingers and before you could pull away yourself she then immediately scurried off as fast as she came.

“And then last but not least—“

“Alastor! Quite a pleasure, a real pleasure to get to meet you young lady! Please, feel free to be welcomed into the Hazbin Hotel!” Alastor, the radio demon, dad— approached you with such enthusiasm and enticement. As if he couldn’t wait to talk to you.

Your blood ran cold, eyes widened with fear, your free hand clutched tightly at the handle of your luggage as Alastor took the other to then put it up to where his smile was, not kissing it or having your hand too near his lips but still keeping courtesy of when meeting a woman as he usually would.

Even in death, he stays a gentleman as per usual.

“My my.. you poor soul. To have to run away from your employer down to this place.. why he must be a terrible person, isn’t he?”

Ah right.. Vox and Alastor hated eachother. You knew this very well.. you honestly didn’t know much about why they hated eachother other than the running joke that Vox most definitely lost a fight with him.

You died years later after Alastor did so you don’t exactly have the full scoop. Him dying in your late teens and you dying in your mid to almost late 20s. You lived life yet— some would say not enough.

“Poor thing, not to worry! Let this be your safe house! Your haven, your asylum, your refuge!” He exclaimed each two sets of words by twirling you around in an exaggerated manner, in a style reminiscent of the way dancers would spin their dance partners in the 30s. You recognized this move all too well— feeling almost nostalgic.

Although you were slightly grateful for one thing he was doing right.. not being overly revealing or announcing the one big fact you two had between the both of you.

You didn’t need that fact to be running around the place like some kind of daily gossip.

Before your anxiety would make you burst in crying or throwing up right in his face you immediately tugged your hand away, his own keeping your wrist in his palm.

“Thank.. you—“ your hand holding the luggage let go to try to tug his hand from holding you any longer until you then finally managed to pull his grip away from off of your other wrist in order to create more space between him and you from the immense anxiety you were having, your lungs threatening not to quicken and burst like balloons. You immediately went back to hold onto your luggage once more.

“How.. welcoming..” you pretended as if you were dusting off your clothes and your arms as if trying to tidy yourself up instead it really meant to give you a few more seconds to collect your thoughts properly.

‘God.. everyone knowing I’m with Vox is only going to make this real fucking hard— I didn’t think this entirely fucking through..’ ah yes.. you totallyyy weren’t panicking about this now active interaction the past two days huh—

‘just act calm and cool _____, you need that money, you need that place, you need that show, you need protection.. stick to the plan..’

“Uh— how humble!.. of your Hotel staff to be so.. welcoming— your highness.” You spoke to Charlie, smiling brightly as if all of this was just casual conversation.

“A real treat seeing dear ol’ Angel Dust here, good to see a familiar face ain’t it Angie?” You turned slightly towards the pornstar, with him returning your comment by exclaiming with a “Damn right!”

Charlie smiled intensely with a nod, face full of joy and innocence. “I’m so sososo glad you like it here so far!! Your experience here won’t be disappointing! You’ll have an absolute blast!—

oh oh!! Can’t forget! We have to get you to your room! If you’d like you can stay there and rest or come down here and join us! Whichever you feel comfortable with.”

“Why thank you very much your highness, your hospitality sure is a darn nice breath of fresh air compared to the rest of hell. Bunch of cats and dogs fighting like wild animals out there.. need a real break once in awhile..” you spoke as you followed Charlie as she lead the way to your room, giving you a minor tour of the hotel before letting you rest in your new humble abode.

Your act, although part sincere and true, was full of holes. Holes not enough for the normal gaze to see but they are clear enough for him to see.

Alastor would eye you as you followed the princess, his fingers uncurling and curling around his staff slowly and menacingly. His sharp pupils narrowing while aligning with his grin as it expanded with a sense of mischief holding it up by its ends.

He saw right through you, of course he would, he knows when you lie, know when you’re honest, when you’re afraid and happy.

Why lie to him my dear? If you know that he knows you like the back of his hand.

Either way he knows he’s going to have to catch you alone at some point, he must catch up to what he’s missed throughout the years he’s been gone from the living world and even in hell.. although you made it clear the last time you met in hell that you don’t want to see him again he finds it curious how you’re even here at all.

Oh but.. gosh.. how much his little girl has grown.

_________________________________

You were a two months from turning 7 years old now, being adopted almost a year ago was the most prolific moment in your young life. Your grandmother, her real name being Adelaide but you preferred to call her Nana or Grandmama… Nana was better for your little voice to stretch out more easily and faster.

She was always such a darling to you, treating you as if you were one of her own. She told you true most amazing and beautiful stories, shared and sang the most wonderful lullabies and songs that sometimes Alastor would join in on, would make delicious food that you adored throughout your childhood, love you unconditionally the way a grandmother would.

And technically you were hers through papers but sometimes it felt as if it was inconsistent in certain areas.. mostly with Alastor.

Alastor was a peculiar man, as famous and passionate as he was he certainly didn’t have a heart of gold, only open to those he truly cares for like his mother and his radio show. It was as if his heart was surrounded from the sky to the depth of the ground with rusty fences and sharped barbed wire that only allowed very few people and things being let into his life.

You tried to get close to him around this time, bringing him little gifts you made and trinkets you’d find that reminded you of him as a way to get closer.

But he always just smiled at you, gave you a pat, and either said ‘good job’, ‘oh how cute, leave it at my study now won’t you?’ ‘I’m sure your Nana would love it.’ And go right back to what he was doing..

You didn’t understand why that happened— but it seems as if he didn’t bother to get close to you simply because you were a gift to his mother, a granddaughter she wanted to have but he couldn’t give unless through legal assistance,

you were for her to love— not for him to raise.

At least that was the case at this point in time.

It was weird.. you never truly has any terrible or bad interactions but— yet it made you disappointed each time, made you crave for his attention. After all— he’s supposed to be your father. Why wasn’t he paying attention?..

You were currently in your room sitting at your desk, papers scattered with different colored wax and pencils messily thrown around on the surface.

You were drawing something, a gift as a last chance to get him to notice you properly. You even had a special gift that your Nana helped you pick out for him! Surely, your dear dad would notice you now right?

Scribbling the last few finishing touches you then dropped the pen on the table as you exclaimed a little “Aha!” And raising the drawing up high, feeling proud of your masterpiece!

You quickly set the drawing down as you then hopped off your chair to a cower through a little playbox full of toys you had, only to search for one single thing. Once your tiny finally felt the touch of wood and slight metal, you grabbed it and pulled it out with yet again another delightful glee.

It was a small radio shaped wooden charm, the metal being the small little ‘hand’ that moved whenever the radio was operating and transmitting audio frequencies. The perfect gift for papa!

You then quickly grabbed the drawing off your desk, both your gifts in hand your little feet went pitter patter as you ran to the dining room where Alastor was having lunch freshly made by his mother.

Your Nana having recently left the home to get a few emergency groceries, made this a good time for just him and you to connect.

“Papa! papa!” You squealed, Alastor’s brows furrowing at several elements in his surroundings annoying him slightly..

“_____, no running in the house remember? Cant have too much noise disturbing our home.” Despite his scolding you couldn’t help but to just giggle and almost jump in excitement in what you’re planning to give him. He continued “Besides as I have mentioned many times before, call me Al—“

“But papa! Papa!— look!—“ you interrupted him, your voice projecting a bit more into a yell as to have him look at what you have.

“_____, no yelling please dear. I can hear you quite well. I’m not a mile away..”

“Yes papa— b—but!.. look..! I made you something..” you then gently set the drawing up at the table first beside his food. Alastor’s attention finally set on the paper and even stopped eating to look at it. He picked it up.. his eyes inspecting it.

It was a drawing of you and him in a sunny flower meadow in a forest both you and his mother had a picnic in recently, except it was just the both of you here.

The drawing was definitely not the most perfect but it was definitely the cutest. Your scribbles somehow managing to immediately the shape of his hair perfectly, his glasses were visible and his red suit was very on parr with what he would wear on the daily, then there was you— your hair a bit more messily drawn than his and seemed more rushed.. as if you couldn’t yet wait to finish the piece. To top it all off it even had small scribbled words in pencil that said ‘papa’ and ‘me’ and an arrow pointing at each individual figure that fit that description.

Oh how cute.

You stared up at him closely, even for a young kid as yourself you were able to notice the way his usually dark and cold eyes had a twinkle in them, a sort of softness diluting his everyday smile ever so slightly.

It took him a second before you then set the trinket on the table where he picked up the paper from “And this is also for you papa.. nana helped me pick it out for you since I said I wanted to give you a present…”

His eyes darted towards the trinket and even picked it up, inspecting the work and its shapes along with the design of it as a whole. Admiring it almost.

His eyes darted back to the drawing, both hands with both gifts.

“Darling…”

Your little heart ran faster, your hopes were rising up to the heavens. Is he gonna say he was proud?.. he loves it? Adores it?.. hates it?—

“This is cute and all, but don’t forget to draw Nana in next time! She was at that picnic with us too remember!” He exclaimed as he smiled at you in an almost bittersweet way, his softness almost being wiped off entirely.

You frowned, “but.. I made it for you papa.. I’m always with nana so.. I wanted to make something for you!” You smiled fondly at him, trying to still hope for a ‘I’m proud’ from him.

“Aww is that so dear?” He spoke as he then set the gifts on the table on the opposite side of where you were, all while hiding behind a smile.

“Well just don’t forget to add Nana in next time, thank you darling for the lovely gifts.” And just like that he began eating.

Ah.. still the same— reaction. It was a bit better.. it wasn’t just a short and quick sentence at least so that made you smile a bit but.. you expected much more.. a hug, a proud smile.

“Yes, papa…” you then slowly walked off back into your room. A bit down but you weren’t going to let that ruin your smile, Nana always told you and papa to always smile no matter what. So that’s what you’ll keep doing. Even if— your expectations were dearly hurt today.

What you didn’t see was Alastor yet again inspecting the gifts you gave him after you left, a hand tilting it a bit to see it clearly and to have the trinket closer to the figures of the both of you.

His permanent smile’s ends stretched a bit, a ‘hm’ escaping his throat as he took another sip from his black coffee.

He never truly saw himself as your father, never fully taking care of you unless his mother asked him to.

Ah but, it was nice to think that way huh?

(HAIIII THABK YOU FOR READING THISSSS I had lots of fun writing this and omfg I have so many idea for Vox and reader interactions, especially when the plot thickens. But thank you so much for the wait on chapter 1 of this story!! I know the prologue has been awhile but I reallyyyy want to continue this since this is my very first original alastor and daughter fanfic that I’ve written years ago and want to revamp into this!!)

[zepskies]

August Fic Recs

Hey, friends!

I got inspired by the awesome monthly rec posts that @winchestergirl2 and @deanwinchesterswitch put together, and decided to try this out. I might not do this every month, but we'll see! lol I now realize how much time and effort this takes, so to you guys who do this on the regular, I salute you! 🫡 😂

Note: If the author provided a summary, I'll include it. If not, and if it's untitled, I'll include the first line of the story. If it's a series and the author provided a series masterlist link in the chapter post, I'll also include it. MINORS BEWARE: a lot of this is 18+ content!

Supernatural

Dean Winchester x Reader:

@mxltifxnd0m -

Cute Glasses

Boyfriend Headcanons

@dewwinchester -

Stitches Summary: Dean texts you for help, and you drop everything for him.

@dean-winchester-is-a-warrior -

Things Learned and Unlearned | Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15 Summary: Y/N has spent her life trying to outrun her mother's reputation. When she meets the rich and successful playboy, Dean Winchester, how quickly can he get her to stop running?

Every Fucking Time Summary: You want to help Dean, but he knows you can't.

@talltalesandbedtimestories -

Just a Little Spice Summary: Dean likes to spice things up, but it would be nice if he didn’t have to put his life in danger in the process.

@luci-in-trenchcoats -

Oh, Baby Summary: When Dean is cursed on a hunt and turned into a baby, the reader has to take care of him along with Sam. Dean however, is a bit more adult than they might realize…

A Shirtless Winchester

Imagine...Breaking Dean Out of Jail

@zeppelinlvr -

"Better?" "Much" Summary: waking up next to Dean and getting ready with him.

@ohsc -

Help You

@rizlowwritessortof -

Sweet Escape - Part 1, Part 2 Summary: What happens when a friend jokingly does a spell at your birthday party to bring your cardboard standup of Dean Winchester to life?

@deans-queen -

Stolen Moments Summary: Y/N finds herself unable to resist capturing a rare, peaceful moment of Dean Winchester sleeping in a motel room. But when Dean wakes up and catches her in the act, what starts as an innocent photo op quickly turns into an intimate encounter.

Sweet Distractions Summary: Reader (Y/N) is at the bunker, working on an essay for her Child Development class. When Dean comes to check on her, his bad-boy charm quickly becomes a distraction she can’t resist, no matter how hard she tries.

@tofics -

Let There Be Light Summary: You, Dean and Sam are fighting America's monsters together. Coming from a long line of hunters, you fit right in with the Winchester boys, despite having been raised entirely different from the two. Where you were brought up with love and care, John raised Sam and Dean with rules and obedience. Seeing what Dean does for the world, you decide it's time that he gets his own share of love...

@jackles010378 -

A Sweet Treat Summary: Dean gets a little excited when Y/N makes his favourite treat.

Dean Winchester x OC:

@rizlowwritessortof -

Remember Me - Part 4

@spnbabe67 -

Girls, Girls, Girls Summary: While on a witch hunt Dean gets hit with a spell. Later at the hotel, Dean feels the effects of the spell and Tori has to help him through it.

It Takes Two Summary: Dean and Tori get roped into doing a pregnancy yoga session and he reminisces on how he found out she was pregnant. (Dean's POV)

Comfortember Day 7: Sick As A Dog Summary: When Dean wakes up sick, it's up to Tori to make him feel better again.

Comfortember 2023 Master List

The Broken Heart Trilogy Master List

Sam Winchester x Reader:

@ohsc -

Delicate

Untitled Drabble - "She wouldn't stop giggling."

The Boys

Soldier Boy x Reader:

@kaleldobrev -

Yes Ma'am (Soldier Boy x Plus-size!Reader) Summary: Macho Man Ben never thought he’d ever take orders from a woman; but now he does so with a smile (aka Ben is whipped and he doesn’t care).

After Everything Summary: You and Ben have a heart-to-heart.

@artyandink -

The Art of Heresy - Prequel, Chapter 1, Chapter 2 Summary: Modern day, 2022, and you have no clue what’s going on. You knew what you went through. You knew it was real, but why were there people trying to convince you that everything that happened to you wasn’t real. Hell, you called bullshit. But you get your chance to fight back when you get a call at your door.

Billy Butcher x Reader:

@lady-z-writes -

Untitled Drabble - "Butcher stumbles in the office. Haggard, nothing new."

Tracker

Russell Shaw x Reader:

@impala-dreamer -

Don't Mention It

@luci-in-trenchcoats -

M.I.A. Summary: When Colter Shaw calls the reader for help on a job, she thinks nothing of helping out. Only he never shows up and Colter may have just become the latest disappearance in this small town. It’s up to her and Russell to work together to find him before his case goes cold like all the others before…

Jacklesverse

Various characters portrayed by Jensen Ackles and/or crossovers:

@deanbrainrotwritings -

Jacklesverse Bingo 2023 Masterlist

@justagirlinafandomworld -

Stranded - SPN/The Boys crossover: Soldier Boy & Reader, with a mention of Dean.

@lamentationsofalonelypotato -

It's Not a Big Deal - SPN/The Boys crossover: Soldier Boy x Reader, with a side helping of Dean. Summary: Dean's in for a rude awakening when he finds out exactly what you did when you got stranded in another universe.

@artyandink -

Nature's Beauty Summary: You have stretch marks. How would the boys react to that?

Chicago Med

Will Halstead x Reader:

@deanstead -

5 Times You Held Back + 1 Time You Didn't Have To Summary: Five times you held back, and the one time you didn’t have to.

Wow, I read a lot this month! 😂 I hope you enjoy these lovely writers and their stories as much as I did. 💜

[r0-boat]

Whb Angelified Chimera!MC Au

Cw: chapter 6 speculation!!, The kings are shooketh, MC felt useless. MC being unhinged and cool. Sfw

The Tartaros lab was swarming with angels, and angelified victims. They were strong. very strong. Even with the demons at your side it was still hard the angels were pushing back and chances of victory seemed grim. You wanted to help! Do something! Put all you could do was go forward while the devils you knew and loved fought behind you, trying to keep the angels at bay as you reached the room containing the fruit... The reason why this was happening in the first place.

The fruit was nothing more than the size of a cherry. Perhaps from all the experiments angels picked at almost clean. But there was still a little bit left. You held the glowing fruit in your hand it's shimmered with a white light beckoning you to taste. Memories flash in your mind. Leamas, Nina, Ppyong witnessing a friendly member succumb to this fruit. But you also remember that the reason why angelification begins is because demons cannot handle its power.... But you were not a devil. You are the child of a powerful sorcerer. You could do this... You are not as strong as Solomon but with this you could protect the ones you love. You could end this war.

So you took a bite...

Your lower body splitting and shifting and growing, you screamed in pain. It hurt, but it was manageable—white fluffy wings sprouting from your back. Your lower body was almost draconic, with a halo around your tail. It fucking hurt like hell, your bones splitting and cracking, your skin ripping and tearing to form hard scales, you're back itchy as white wings begin to sprout.

Wrath surged through you as you busted through the walls The Angel's eyes widened with terror only to be met with your claws. All you heard was their screams until the broken walls and shattered floor were stained with blood and covered with feathers. The demons, the devils who loved you, looked at you with horror, fear almost morning; what had you become?

Leviathan was terrified His heart racing; he could hardly contain it as he clutches his chest. Deep down, he knew what happened in that room, but he could not accept it. You cannot be this stupid to eat the same fruit That caused pain. A part of him wants to smack you across the face for even considering what you did. But another part of him is so worried sick, and all he wants to do is hug you and hold you close and ask you why.

Satan knew... Something was different. Even with the pure wrath circling within him at first but when he looked at you, seem to have calmed. You are not an angelified monster... When he looked into your eyes he didn't see just emptiness, You are still in there. He reached out to touch you as you slowly leaned down-

Only to be cut short my more angels you let out and inhuman noise your white wings spreading to take flight. Your claws smashing a hole in several walls

Satan and Levi are now practically chasing after you. The lab was big but you couldn't have gone far. Sitri agrees with his king that's something is different about you. You only attacked the angels not them. Ppyong is in shambles... He surely hopes that what he fears is not true What is he going to tell Minhyeok...

Mammon is stopping Angels from coming in. He knows that the glass in this facility is unbreakable. He spent good money on this, and it was holding up rather well. Angels were still getting in from the other side. However, he's doing his part to stop more of them from coming in. That smile quickly wiped off his face when the glass shattered what appears to be a giant monster barreling through the window it's white wings and scent messing with his it's angelfication, But he could smell you?? He almost stumbled backward when he saw the torso of the beast.

you...

He was stunned standing still as you shred through Angel after Angel.

He stood there and watched as you screamed at your new victory and looked at your next opponent. A giant angelified demon, You didn't even know Mammon was there The only thing in your mind was 'angel.threat'

Beelzebub was there when it happened He could just barely see you You couldn't hear him when he screamed no as you put the fruit to your lips. The King's new about your feelings of uselessness They tried to console you they tried telling you that you were just as important as anyone.

Belphegor is on the front lines. They were doing their part, and he was bored. He already knew his enemies 10-fold. But then something unexpected happened as they tried to bring down a vast beast; another one collided with it, starting a fight that he'd only seen in his comics. 'Wait a minute,' He thought as he held out his arm, commanding his devils to ceasefire.

Is that that human he's hurt so much about??? What the heck? From his desk you probably ate the fruit fucking stupid also... Very bold. A move he would never ever see coming from anyone.

After the angels retreat you are still on a rampage though you didn't want to hurt your devil friends the pain was all becoming too much You tried to fly away to push them back with your tail It took all five of the demon kings to bring you down to the ground.

Luckily since you were a human your angelfication was not permanent. But it was not without drawbacks.

You woke up to an angry Lucifer He has heard everything and he is pissed. Worried and pissed. So worried on the patient that he refrains from ripping you a new one for your stupid stunt. Do you know how lucky you are to survive that?

However it's not completely reversed All you have now is evidence of what you did. Your canines are now sharper almost like fangs. And what really freaked you out is that your chest and around your privates were covered in white feathers.

Leviathan is so angry He's shaking and rage and with worry The seat he's in despite his calm demeanor won't stop shaking with his body. Part of him wants to hold you close another part of him doesn't even want to look at you!

Satan his eyes filled with relief and fear as he feels the soft feathers now covering a third of your body. He wants you to swear to him to never do that stunt ever again!

Mammon honestly is amazed with his master, He was worried sick but he was kind of in awe about how strong you were. Bimet disagrees but will not say it out loud (He wonders how much your feathers will sell.)

Belphegor seems very interested in you now...

[lordprettyflackotara]

Chapter Eleven || Hitchhiker || The Proxies

no tw’s for this chapter

a/n: next chapter finna be just a little just a tad just the slightest bit unhinged

<— previous chapter

“How much longer until she’s awake?”

“There’s not even a rough estimate I can give you. Shes lost a lot of blood. But nevertheless, you need to think of a payment method.”

“Can you at least let her wake up before you start yapping about getting reimbursed?”

“Considering The Operator would hang me if he found out i’m helping any of you, I think not.”

You shifted uncomfortably, stiff metal underneath you as you began to stir. “The Operator hangs people?” You mumbled. You felt your wrist and ankles being restricted, causing your eyes to fly open. You were secured to a metal operating table, leather straps securing your wrist to your sides and your ankles to stay straight. You began to thrash under the restraints, panicking. “Woah woah woah it’s okay, relax,” Brian ushered. Three people stood around you, two of which you actually recognized.

Toby and Brian stood to your left, Toby’s eyes filled with concern. On your right, was someone you’ve never seen before. A blue mask with eerie black eye sockets stared down at you. A jet black hoodie hid any other features, your mind starting to spin. “Holy fuck, what the fuck, what the fucking fuck,” You rambled, trying to move away from the unknown masked man. Brian grabbed your shoulders, trying to hold you down. “Relax it’s just EJ, he here to help,” He said, attempting to comfort you. The tall man known as EJ seemed unamused, tilting his head to the side.

“If this is how she reacts to me standing here, what was her reaction to Toby’s face?”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “What about his face?” You questioned. You blinked a few times, trying to understand why your vision was so blinded. “J-Jesus Christ dude move the l-lamp,” Toby intervened. He shoved the blinding spotlight out of the way, allowing your vision to settle. Brian and EJ began undoing your restraints, allowing you to sit up. As you did you hissed in pain, grabbing your stomach. “Take it easy. You’ll rip the stitches,” Brian said. He placed his large hand on your upper back, helping you sit up slowly.

“If you rip them i’m not stitching them up again,” EJ grumbled unhappily. He helped Toby free your ankles, your hands rubbing your wrist. “Is there a particular reason you had me tied up?” You inquired. Brian looked at EJ before answering. “There’s a chance that you could’ve had a seizure during your surgery,” He said slowly. You blinked a few times, lifting up your shirt. It was oversized on you and smelled like Toby. You almost asked how your clothes had been changed, but then you remembered Nova. “Yes, when my patients move during my operation it’s quite irritable,” EJ added. Your eyes searched the room, looking past the three that surrounded you.

“Where’s Nova? Is she alright? And Tim?” You asked. You went to jump off of the table, Toby stopping you. “T-They’re fine. They’re outside,” Toby informed you. It then occurred to you that you didn’t recognize your surroundings, at all. You appeared to be in a small cabin, a small fire crackling in the nearby living room. Despite how tiny it seemed, the soft essence made it comfortable. “EJ only let two of us in at a time. And it’s better Nova and Toby don’t get partnered together,” Brian explained. You glanced at EJ, whose soulless gaze seemed to stare directly into your soul. “Those regulations are over, if you’re going to stay here I need to have a meeting with all of you,” EJ said plainly. He sounded so unamused. So unfazed. As he removed his hands from his hoodie you noticed his ash gray skin.

Maybe all kinds of monsters were actually real, not just the one terrorizing you. Toby helped you over to the couch, Brian off to get Tim and Nova. Once you were all seated, EJ stood in front of you. Tim tried his hardest not to look at you, the guilt of almost getting you killed eating him alive. “I have been friends with The Operator for a long time. Longer than some of you have been born,” EJ began. Friends? Was this guy for real? You glanced over at Nova, whose gaze reminded on EJ. Despite her eyes looking elsewhere, she affectionately put her hand on top of yours. You wanted to question her sudden affection, the two of you hardly hugging before you met the boys. “I’m just going to say it like it is. The five of you are not going to make it out of this alive. I estimate maybe two or three of you. But not all of you,” He continued. You were searching for Toby and Brian’s reactions, the two listening intently.

You expected Tim to argue. Toby to interrupt. Brian to mumble an insult. But they all sat perfectly still, listening to the creature before them. Whoever EJ was, he meant business. “Which of the three of you survives depends on how you want to play your cards,” EJ stated flatly. Tim crossed his arms. “Skip over the drama and get to the point please,” He huffed. Despite EJ’s gaze being concealed by a mask, it wasn’t hard to sense that he despised being interrupted. “Nova and Y/n you’re both targets. Given the situation I suspect we won’t have any visitors for a while. He wants to push Nova to the point of suicide and I can only assume for Y/n he wants her as a proxy,” EJ continued. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat. Toby put his arm around you, pulling you closer.

“I can smell your curiosity. Being willing to die in an instant for someone you care about is noble. Too noble. He wants to exercise that nobility to its fullest extent,” He explained. Could he read thoughts too? What did he mean by he could smell you? “So what’s your recommendation for a plan wise guy?” Tim asked. EJ thought for a moment, his body stilling as he thought to himself. “Keep moving until your legs hurt. Train the girl to look after herself. Maybe start to pray,” He suggested sarcastically. Tim frowned as he stood up, glaring at EJ. “Dont push your luck Tim. You’re lucky she’s made it this far anyways,” The demon said plainly. Tim stormed outside, slamming the door behind him. You rose from the couch, abandoning Nova and Toby to shoot daggers at one another. You brushed past EJ, avoiding his eerie gaze.

You reached Tim on the back porch, a cigarette in between his fingers. “Tim…” You started. The brunette refused to look at you, leaning against the wooden railing of the porch. Endless rows of trees surrounded the cabin, the sun beaming through the leafs above. “You can’t keep blaming yourself for this,” You say. Tim flicked some ash off of his cigarette, before returning it to his lips. “My selfishness and greed landed you here. You know it,” He said harshly. A breeze blew past the two of you, your hand involuntarily cradling your wound. You slowly walked over to him, each step taking all of your energy. “Tim, I wanted this,” You argued. Tim noticed how weak you were, his gaze now avoiding looking at you. If he were to, he’d fold and want to touch you.

“You wanted a life stealing demon attached to you? I don’t think so,” Tim debated. You put your hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “I wanted you. The three of you. Everything else will work itself out,” You replied. Tim finally turned to face you, carelessly tossing his cigarette aside. “Tim I can’t do this without you. Masky isn’t enough. I need you too,” You say softly. You bring your hands to his face, cupping it. Tim brought his gloved hands to your wrist, admiring your soft features. When was the last time anyone preferred him over Masky? “I’m so sorry. You have no idea how sorry I am,” Tim whispered. His eyes became glassy, internally fighting the urge to cry. “You can show me,” You suggested. This made Tim chuckle, the brunette delivering a kiss to your forehead. “With your stitches healing? Absolutely not. Nice try princess,” He chuckled.

He leaned his forehead against yours, your gaze meeting his. “Hey Tim?” You whispered. You wrapped your arms around his neck, his large hands settling on your waist.

“Yeah?”

“Kiss me.”

Tim’s lips met yours, his kiss hungry and soft. He tasted like cigarettes and spearmint, your eyes fluttering shut. Your lips moved against his in harmony, the two of you like magnetics. You couldn’t help but feel more drawn to him, your hands gripping his jacket to bring him closer. Tim pulled away first, his face visibly flushed. He gave you a smile, before gathering both of your hands into his own. “I’m going to do everything to protect you. You’re going to be one of the three that survive,” He promised you. He brought you to his chest, pulling you into a tight embrace.

“I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”

In the distance, beyond a few rows of trees, the unknowing couple had an observer. He wasn’t a tall slender being like his boss, no. He was something much worse, much more sinister. Unlike his boss, who deployed mindless drones to continue his reign of terror, he considered himself to be much different. He preferred this. To be alone, slaughtering those he was instructed to. It gave him a justification. It gave him a pleasure so strong it was nearly greater than an orgasm.

He was tasked with finishing what Kate started. Except this time, where the chips fall where they may lay. The Operator was very clear. There were no restrictions now. Masky, Hoodie, and Toby, could easily be eliminated as well if they interfered with his task. Crouched in a tree his eyebrows furrowed as he observed you and Tim. You had three lovers? Possibly a fourth with the hot headed detective? He tilted his head to the side as Tim kissed you again. You were an intriguing target indeed. As he fiddled with his metal claws, he couldn’t help but wonder if any of you had figured out the truth yet.

The Operator didn’t want you as a proxy anymore, he wanted you dead.

\/

“Guys seriously I can get in bed just fine i’m okay,” You protested. Toby and Tim had been carrying you everywhere, determined to baby you to the highest extent. You refused to acknowledge or admit how much your stomach hurt. “You got stabbed through the kidney. It’s a miracle not only that you survived, but that EJ didn’t take the opportunity to eat it,” Tim said. They lowered you on to the bed, the oversized pants you were clothed with sagging. “EJ eats kidneys?” You questioned. You could feel your stomach churn. Tim went silent for a moment, realizing he hadn’t thought twice about what he had said.

“H-he eats much much more than that. But we were ver-r-ry clear in our deal with him,” Toby intervened. You propped yourself up against the headboard, the ancient oil lamp on your nightstand accompanying you with a dim light. “What deal?” You asked. Tim ran his fingers through his hair. “Dont worry about it,” He said, steering the conversation in a different direction. You frowned. Toby made himself quite comfortable beside you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. “Where’s Brian?” You asked. You leaned your head against Toby’s chest, trying to ignore how sore your body felt. “Out on patrol with Nova and EJ. There is no telling who The Operator might try to send here now that Kate’s dead,” Tim stated.

The memory of the blade of the axe slamming down into her skull resurfaced in your mind. The cold blooded killer in question was cuddling you like a teddy bear. He was humming to himself, like he hadn’t committed atrocious acts against God. Tim’s eyes flickered between you and Toby, the brunette swallowing. “Well, i’ll leave you guys to it,” Tim said quietly. He turned to leave, causing you to lean forward to try to grab his wrist. You hissed in pain at the sudden movement, your hand flying down to your healing wound. Your whine caused Tim to turn around, looking at you with eyes full of concern.

“Please stay. I need all of the support I can get right now,” You admitted weakly. Tim glanced at Toby, who gave him a subtle nod. The bed was a full sized one at most. Tim sighed, sliding off his boots and jacket. “You’re lucky I-” Tim began, stopping dead in his tracks once he realized what words were about to fall off of his lips. Your eyes widened, your heart beginning to race. Tim didn’t deserve to say those words to you. He didn’t think he was worthy. “You’re just lucky, princess,” He finished. He shuffled over to the other side of the bed, sliding in beside you. It was then a knock on the door drew your attention, a tired Brian stumbling inside.

“Please for the love of God let me sleep with you guys instead of being on patrol,” He pleaded. You raised your eyebrows, glancing at Tim. “What’s wrong?” He questioned. Brian sighed, shoving off his hoodie. You couldn’t help but momentarily stare at his built chest. He only wore a thin wife beater underneath, the sight making your heart skip a a beat. “EJ and Nova won’t stop yapping. They won’t stop talking and it’s driving me insane. The point of being on watch is to be subtle. Something neither of them know how to do apparently,” He groaned. Brian plopped down onto the bed, carefully laying his head on your inner thighs.

“A demon and Nova. S-sounds like the p-p-perfect match to me!” Toby snickered. You rolled your eyes, elbowing him. Tim laid his head on your shoulder, your right hand lacing its fingers with his. Your left found its way to Brian’s hair, playing with the locs as his eyes fluttered shut. “Shut up Toby,” Tim grumbled. You knew it wasn’t always going to be this easy. Recovery was going to be a bitch. Your mind began to spin, your eyes wide open as fears circulated around your mind. Tim seemed to notice your tension, giving your hand a squeeze.

“Relax princess we’re right here. No ones going anywhere.”

Your feet seemed to carry themselves, trudging through the forest. Thick vines littered themselves across the ground, causing you to consistently look down to watch your step. When you finally looked up, your eyes widened. A rusty gate fenced in what appeared to be a small graveyard. A cold chill ran down your spine, goosebumps rising across your skin as the hairs on the back of your neck stood up. On the gate was a piece of paper, a chaotic and unhinged drawing of The Operator scribbled across the page.

Narrowing your eyes, you grabbed the page angrily. “Stupid drawing,” You muttered. You crumbled up the page, tossing it aside. You shoved the gate open, the fog concealing a clear view of the gravestones. An owl hooted in the distance, the dim moonlight not able to illuminate anything past the relentless fog. You ignored the overgrown moist grass tickling your exposed ankles, continuing forward. Unsettled you hugged your arms, ignoring the eerie feeling of being watched. You did a quick scan of your surroundings, unable to see anything.

Swallowing your fear and unsettlement you walked forward, with each step creating a louder sound of static. You reached the headstones, noticing five of them sat in a perfect row. You managed to see past the fog, your heart beginning to pound as you read the names.

Timothy Wright. Brian Thomas. Nova Parker. Tobias Rogers. Y/n Y/l/n.

You felt your stomach churn, your body boiling with rage. “You can’t have them! I won’t let you!” You yelled into the void. You clenched your fist, your nails digging into your palms. “You hear me you bald fuck!? You can’t have them! They mine,” You screamed. Your voice echoed throughout the trees, your words ringing throughout your ears. You gritted your teeth, the sound of static overpowering your words. You fell to your knees, clutching your head. Your lips were apart, a scream surely escaping your throat, yet you couldn’t hear it.

With every ounce of energy you had left you swallowed, forcing yourself to formulate words. “You’ll never find us anyways you bastard!” You screeched. An abnormally large snow white hand grabbed your shoulder, its fingers digging into your skin.

“Oh my foolish child, I already have.”

—> next chapter

[idesofrevolution]

Horizons II: Numbers

READ CHAPTER ONE HERE

I looked at Omarion with my lupine grin, my sweet lookin' stolen face twisted and devilish. Couldn’t stop myself from snatching the blunt right out of his fingers mid puff and bringing it to my lips. Here’s the thing, bro; yeah, I was 6'3 and fit as fuck, not gonna lie. But Omarion was another beast entirely. The guy was almost 7'0 and lean like the good runner he was. You had to have someone get in and out of a place like a jackrabbit? Omarion's your boy. Those size 17 stompers he's got somehow are quick and quiet, especially when he kicks my ass on the basketball court. I let out a big fuckin' cloud in his face, winkin' as I hand the smokin' cigarello back to him.

"So, 'white boy'..." Omarion chuckled under his breath, still all kinds of fucked up about his Colombian parcero stretchin' out this gringo's bod. "You got a dude for me or what? Fuckin' hogs be runnin' me all over town." I looked down at my feet, racking this dude's memories for the name of that little sidepiece that he dumps his load into every Saturday night. I pushed down the growing rage I felt as Aidan's face continued to appear in my head- I didn't have a bit of guilt squeezin' into this fucker knowing what he did to that kid. I had even less guilt about what I was about to do to that tiny lil bitch as his name finally popped into my brain.

"Orlando. Orlando Avellaneda." Omarion raised his eyebrow at me as I looked at him with my big blue eyes. I kinda loved the way it fucked with him. "He's over off Frederick Street. He's this dude's little fuck toy. Bruh, it's wild. This guy is a full on fuckin' racist, but he's got a thing for the Cuban boys." Omarion took a big drag from the lit cigarello, puffin' out a couple of rings before smiling.

"Beggars can't be choosers, bro. But you ain't stickin' that monster inside me, even if I'm in 'your' side ho." I punched that tatted up tower in the arm, laughin' at his seriousness.

"You good, man. I promise I won't drill ya. Can't promise you won't wanna, though." I pawed at my bulge playfully as he grimaced in disgust.

"Boy if you don't stop playin'. Get in the fuckin' car." He stomped his giant AF1 on the blunt, struttin' over to the far corner of the warehouse. I followed behind, and behind the back pillar sat a fresh as fuck Jeep. Omarion hopped in the driver's seat, and the engine roared to life. Fuck I missed that sound. Nothin' like a roarin' engine, speedin' down the highway, dodgin' screamin' pigs and bitch ass Nissans to get away. I hopped in, wondering if I'd ever get to feel that rush again. I think back to Aidan, that innocent little face of his... was I really condemned to being some nine to fiver, rotting away in a cubicle. I couldn't ditch the dude, that would fuck him up beyond fixin'. But this beast can't be fuckin' caged man.

"Haul ass outta here, bro. Gotta get back before he gets suspicious." Omarion rolled his eyes, slammin' that cinder block foot onto the gas and plowing through the wood planks on the warehouse door, and out of the port. I looked down at Chase's phone, pullin' up his texts. I scrolled through bullshit after bullshit from his lame ass bank job- put a pin in that for later. Finally, I found the little shit. Orlando's name popped up midway down, the horny fuck puttin' a peach emoji right on his contact. I hit call and put my finger to my lips, Omarion snickering as I did.

"Uh... Chase? Did you forget your wallet again?" His voice was shrill and irritating, nothin' like Aidan. You could hear the brattiness with every word.

"I'm comin' over. Get that ass ready." He was quiet on the other side of the line, givin' me a mini heart attack thinkin' I'd fucked up and freaked him out. At least until I heard his breaths under the static.

"Mmmm playin' bad boy tonight are we? Your houseboy not giving you what you need?" I felt my teeth grind, who the fuck was this little cocksucker to talk about him that way... I took a deep breath, Omarion still raisin' his eyebrows at my huffin' and puffin'.

"Yeah, I'm feelin' nasty tonight. I'm gonna stretch that mouth as wide as it'll go." Little did he know.

"Door's unlocked, lemme give you what he can't. See you soon, baby." He hung up, and I tossed Chase's phone onto the center console of the car. Wouldn't be needing it for much longer, anyway. Omarion had his eyes plastered on the road, clearly biting his tongue. Honestly, I get it. I ate pussy like it was a fuckin' banquet, so did he. I didn't understand why I got so fuckin' enfadado at any slight against that blonde twink either. As much as I got under this gringo's skin, he'd gotten under mine too.

"So. You into this boy, ain't you?" I whipped my head to scowl at him.

"I'm not into him. I'm just playin' the game, bro." He chuckled under his breath, shakin' his head.

“Sure, bruh. Last I checked you were on track for a hundred bitches in one year. Eyes on the prize, brother!” He turned, laughin’ his stupid ass off, but not one laugh came outta me. That shit didn’t escape him, he noticed right away. That smile faded quick before we sat the rest of the ride in silence, he didn’t even put on Kendrick like he usually did. This shit was gettin' complicated. As we pulled up to his bougie ass townhouse, I heard the lil' ping comin' out of my phone, seeing a missed call and text from Aidan. Omarion opened the door, stepping out onto the street, turnin' to stare at me. "C'mon bro, we don't have time for this shit."

"Bruh, gimme a fuckin' second!" I swiped down, seeing the message from Aidan:

Aidan: Did you get stuck in traffic? I hope the ice cream doesn't melt...

I smiled, that boy ain't even mad. I don't get people worryin' about where I'm at, what I'm doin', who I'm with... I opened the camera, snapping a picture givin' him those 'Imma fuck the shit outta you' eyes.

Chase: yeah, babe- got stuck by the bridge. ice cream is fucked, gonna get you a nice n creamy one. i know u like that.

He replied with that naughty lil' devil emoji. Mmmm... I bet he'd be on his knees the minute I walked in that door. I felt my rod stirrin' in my jock, drippin' my juices out this gringo's swollen cock. This guy really got me goin'... but fuck. I wasn't a fuckin' cocksucker.

"Put that fuckin' phone down. We gotta fuckin' go, bro!" I nodded at Omarion, seein' just how pissed he was gettin' standing there. Tossin' that phone in the backseat, I got out the car and walked up to his door. Tappin' the doorbell, that thirsty lil fuck came runnin' down the stairs, whipping that door open quicker than I expected. The skinny lil twig stared up at me, clearly confused why Chase was as sexy as I made him overnight and why this 7'0 shirtless ebony giant is lookin' at him that way. The kid was a pipsqueak. Fresh outta college, ‘applying for dental school’ apparently. Typical dick cravin’ lil’ fa… gay boy.

"Whoa... Chase?" The lil bitch looked me up and down, I snickered as I saw his dicklet go full mast as I crossed my inked arms.

"The one and only, baby." I winked at him, watchin' his face flush red as an apple, before throwin' my arm around my bro. "This is Omarion. I think he's in need of a little.. stress relief." My man was gropin' at that jackhammer of his and that monster grew at just a single touch, snakin' down his sweatpants like the anaconda it is. I smirked, watchin' drool start to stream down Orlando's smooth chin.

"Yeeh... Yeah that sounds... good... But, when did you get tat..." I couldn't help but laugh as Omarion gripped him by the fuckin' cheeks, pushing him back into the living room. I shut the door behind us, smugly turning the deadbolt before slowly pullin' down my sweats. I turned around, grippin' my musky, sticky jock and my jaw nearly fuckin' dropped. Omarion had already dropped trou, his big ass Nikes and sweats chucked over the back end of the couch, and both Orlando and I completely fixated on that huge ass screwdriver stickin' straight outta his curly pubes. Fuck, maybe I hadn't really looked before when we double teamed the last few girls- too busy with my cock down her throat, but holy fuckin' shit bruh. Thick as a beercan, veins runnin' down that footlong like rivers, and his mushroom head pokin' the little twink right in the nose.

"Yo, you down for the spit?" Omarion snickered as he pried Orlando's thin lips open, hockin' a thick wad of spit into his mouth. Man, when I tell you I was in the fuckin' position in three seconds flat-the twink's feet over my shoulders, his grey shorts pulled to the side with that puckery hole just beggin' for my cock. Omarion threw up his fist, our tatted knucks colliding like the green light we both knew it was. "Alright lil' bitch, open wide." Orlando, the obedient little sub, could barely open that mouth any bigger than he already did before my bro had thrust that footer straight down his throat, blowin' out a hoot of pleasure as his head slowly fell back. My mind flashed back to Aidan back at the apartment, probably checkin' his phone to see if I was on my way back...

"Bro..." Man... I couldn't get him out of my head. I had a tight hole pressed against my steamy bulge and all I could think about was... "BRO!" I shook my head, lookin' up at my bro straight up face fuckin' Orando's gaggin' face. "Wake the fuck up, bruh. Hurry it up and stick it in already!" It's a means to an end, I tell myself. I pull down my jock, my cock already standin' alert, drippin' with my pre and some of last night's load still caught under the hood. I felt my old self for a sec- my brows gettin' low, my teeth barin', that animal snarl... Well, his hole will be a nice lil' cleaner for me. I smirked, pressin' that musky head against his beggin' pucker, and with a deep fuckin' groan, slowly let my slimy rod slip into his guts. "That's my fuckin' boy. Come on!" Omarion picked up his pace, leanin' over the fucker and holdin' onto the couch beneath him, grinnin' from ear to ear. Man, when I say I love tag teamin' with my boy, I FUCKIN' LOVE IT. The guy just turns up the heat, bruh, and that shit just gets me goin'.

I let my long ass tongue flop out my mouth, smilin' and pantin' as I start plowin' that twink ass. Orlando was moanin' and chirpin' like the thirsty lil slut he is, gettin' pegged from both sides by two professional fuckers. Sweat drippin' down my forehead, Omarion and I just look at eachother, smirkin' at the sounds of his sweaty balls slappin' against the twink's face, and my groin against his bony lil' ass.

"Fuckin' take this dick, lil' pussy. Yeah suck it." Omarion slapped Orlando's cheek, the little pervert whining as he's spitroasted. As the lil' fucker's eyes closed in lust, my boy looked me dead in the eye, and I knew exactly what it meant. Omarion slowly stepped back, his dick slowly pulling out of the twink's throat. I lean in over his panting face, my scowl growin' crazed as I rammed his ass.

"Woohoo, bro. You really shoulda got your own breeder, pendejo. This one's taken." His eyes squinted in confusion as I pulled out of his lil' pucker, and Omarion made his move, stickin' that massive mitt into his open mouth, pullin' his lips wider and wider- his head stretchin' and distorting as he tugged, before bringin' his size 17 dog up and shovin' it down Orlando's pre-stretched throat. That wet squelch rang out as his neck bulged around the shape of that smelly fuckin' boat slidin' down into his chest.

Lemme just break this down for you. Slippin' into someone, that's one thing. Feels fuckin' great, gets you off, the sounds and smells and the texture... yeah it's hot. But watchin' your bro squeezin' into some bitchass... that's a whole different fuckin' level, bruh. Seein' him plop his ass on the back of the couch, slippin' his other foot down the twink's gurglin' throat, lettin' himself just slide down into Orlando's bod lubed with his own sweat. I couldn't help myself, bro. I grabbed my musky cock, slowly pumpin' it as I watched his calves slurp down into the lil' fucker. This is karma, bitch. I bet he loved the feelin' of his thick ass thighs stretchin' his head like a rubber mask, or the smell of his round sweaty ass as he sits down right on top of his nose. Wanna know how I know? Those whimpers turned into moans real fuckin' quick. He turned and looked at me jackin' away, goonin' at the insane sight.

"Bruh, c'mon! I get your bod is gettin' you horny but help me in and we can get the fuck outta here!" Fuck, he was right. Bein' inside Chase had my brain doin' a buncha fuck shit, as much as I'd changed him- I think he was changin' me too... I blinked, runnin over to the squirming pipsqueak and holding him down, watchin' as Omarion kept sinkin' himself deeper and deeper inside of him. His toes bulged out beneath the pale skin, slidin' down his smooth legs, his skinny calves, and with a buncha grunts n' squeezin' from Omarion, his gigantic feet suctioned into Orlando's immediately bloating them into my boy's veiny, funky size 17s.

Omarion goes to a whole 'nother level when he's gettin' into you. Those eyes got wild, grinnin' like the Joker as he pinched the twink's waist, and stretched the legs tight over his own. Slowly, Orlando's legs swelled and suctioned over my boy's his tight calves and basketball-trained quads bulging out of this kid's skin. His curly brown hairs sprouting out of the pale legs, before quickly tanning with his mocha body inside.

"Lemme just... Unf!" He shoved his hands into the gapin' maw, slinkin' down to his semi hard dick, deflated after his fake lust had faded away. I watched as his snake slid into Orlando's, stretchin' it wide before those kiwi balls of his slurped into his new droopy sac. The man was gigglin' like a fuckin' lunatico, his ass now inflating the bony rear into two watermelons below his skinny waist. His arms found their way into the twink's shoulders; like slippin' on a pair of overalls, all he needed to do was shrug, and the rubbery skin slurped over his torso and chest. A couple of his tatts slowly rose to the surface: barbed wire from his time in the pen, and two snakes circlin' around eachother- a tribute to our partnership for the past decade. His arms slid down into their new gloved home, the skin creaking and groaning as the big ol' mitts swelled into their new fingers n' palms.

"Aight bro, thanks for the ride!" We bumped our knuckles, as he took Orlando's orgasmic face, pulling it over the back of his head and letting it snap right over his own. Squeaks, creaks, and squelches echoed in the room as he tugged on the mask atop his head: Orlando's lips growin' thick, his nose flattenin', the sharp stubble poppin' out his sharp jaw... Fuck... Why was I thinkin' that way...

My bro opened his new eyes, the twink's pretty boy face now twisted into a gruff ass snarl. Reachin' over to his sweatpants, he pulled out the blunt he'd rolled in the car, stickin' it between his lips and lighting it. Seein' a lil' cockslut turn into a fuckin' giant ass man, blowin' his thick clouds was such a fuckin' trip.

"Orlando, huh? Bruh, this guy was a fuckin' tightass motherfucker." Hearin' that high pitched voice gravelly n' low... that shit got my stomach in knots. "This shit never gets old, man. Trippy as fuck every time." He took another puff before handin' that good shit over to me, snickering at my hard on I'd tried to slip back into my jock. As I took a hit, that motherfucker started leanin' over and pokin' it! "Yeah, man. I see what you mean when ya slip into a cocksucker. Certain things just look... different through these eyes."

I couldn't say for sure man, but I think I felt my cheeks get red from his touch. Even through this twunk's face I could see Omarion's fuckin' smirk on his lips, feel that fucker's grip in his hands, smell that musk flowin' from out his skin. It was Omarion through and through, and fuck was it crazy to see those lil things comin' from Orlando's body. I smacked that chucklin' dick's hand off my rod, playin' it off as best I could.

"Yeah, you fuckin' wish this dick was up your thirsty ass." He huffed under his breath, jumpin' off the bed and over to the bag he'd dropped by the door to get into a more fittin' look.

"Shit, bruh. He's got some spunk in these balls. Just gimme some pussy and... UNH... UNH... UNH..." He hip thrust forward, grinnin' as he slipped on his tank. I couldn't watch him too long, 'cuz as much as I wanted to deny it, I wanted to see him fuckin' some tight hole in this bod. He looked good.

"Heh, you gonna find some good cumdump in that pretty boy." I walked over, handin' him the joint before slippin' on my sweatpants. I felt him lookin' at me, didn't have to even turn around.

"So... what's the plan, bro? Back to 'your' place, regroup, and get movin'?" I stopped for a second, realizing that while I shoulda been thinkin about the escape plan, I wasn't. Every moment that day my head shoulda been in the game, like it was every other time I hid in some perra. But it wasn't. The whole time, all I was thinkin' was how long it'd take to get back to Aidan.

"Uh, yeah. We should get goin'." I turned around, lookin' at him slippin those big funky dogs into his AF1's, tossin' the empty bag over his shoulder.

“Well, let’s dip.” Omarion strut out the door as if he owned the place. Well, I guess he did, heh. He’s always been a pro at this shit. Bro is a fuckin’ chameleon. When he’s in you, nobody would do so much as a double take. He’s got your memories on lock. He’s got your interests on lock. He’s got your voice, your walk, your smile… By the time he hops out, he’s got ‘em thinkin’ you just had a phase or some shit like that.

See, when we’re inside you, you’re seein’ everything we’re seein’, feelin’ how we feel, thinkin’ how we think… Sometimes when we ditch your skin, you wake up a bit different than you used to be. I mean, we’re doin’ you a favor. You get a fuckin’ sick ass sex god wearin’ and stretchin’ your body out, you’re gonna walk away with a bit of our swagger in you, bruh. Chase was a slow learner with that, bitchin’ and moanin’ 24/7, but nothin’ more than a whisper way back there pretendin’ like he hates my big ass schlong swingin’ between his legs. But Omarion, he has a fuckin’ queue of bros beggin’ him to squeeze back in ‘em. He does somethin’ different, bro. I don’t know how to explain it. I didn’t then, on that drive that night after stoppin’ at some shitty cornerstore to swipe some ice cream for Aidan, I just sorta stared at him. Didn’t say much, just vibed to some Curren$y as he weaved through fuckin’ slow ass cars; but I had to ask.

“So how the fuck 're you so good at this shit, man?” He turned to me, raisin’ his eyebrow. “Like you get in him like it’s nothin’, and it’s like he’s always been this way. No one bats a fuckin’ eye.” Omarion rolled his eyes, turnin’ back to the road.

“You get way too into it, bruh.” His voice was low and cold.

“The fuck? What’s that supposed to mean?” I knew exactly what he meant. But in the back of my head, I needed to hear him say it.

“When I go into hidin’, I’m not out there keepin’ up their relationships. I’m not callin’ their moms. I don’t give a fuck about goin’ into work. I get in, get the fuck outta town, and get out. No strings, no bullshit.” His eyes were fixed on the road, I knew he’d been meanin’ to say this for a while. “But you, bro? You out there makin’ sure the rent is paid. You out there makin’ excuses for where they’re goin’. You tellin’ their professors you goin’ to a funeral so you gotta take some time off of class. You get involved, bruh. You always do.” He finally looked at me, not mad or anything, but he was serious. “This time I got a feelin’ you in too deep.”

“I’m am not.” I did my best to be all, ‘I don’t give a fuck’ about the clock. But Omarion knows me too damn well. He saw right through that shit.

“We stopped for ice cream for your butt buddy, bro.” We sat in silence for an uncomfortably long time. Felt like fuckin’ ages, but he finally summed it up. “You gotta ditch this dude. We stayin’ the night and you either ditch the boyfriend or ditch the bod. Get a new dude and leave this shit in the dust. We got a job to do. Don’t forget that.”

Took forty minutes to get back to the apartment. Bruh, I was sweatin' bullets. I didn't know how Omarion would vibe with Aidan, what kind of excuse I was gonna have to come up with. I looked down at the plastic bag and the half melted chocolate ice cream inside. No, the bodega didn't have fuckin' pistachio. Yes, I asked. Omarion stood next to me in the elevator, flexin' and snappin' pics to send the boss.

"Aight, we're friends. We saw eachother at the corner store. You're comin' back to smoke and chill. Got it?" Omarion huffed, slippin' his bod's phone back into his sweats.

"Yeah, we good. But tomorrow mornin', we dippin' right?" I couldn't even look at him. I just nodded. "Bruh, we're gettin' the fuck outta here, ditchin' these bitches and gettin' back to the boss. That's the fuckin' plan. Don't get all horny for this dude, you ain't stayin."

"I'm not fuckin' horny for him, bro!" The elevator doors opened, and we walked up to the door. Just as I was fuckin' with the keys, I heard the door unlock and watched as the door swung open. He stood on the other side, lookin' irritated as fuck. Aidan stood there with his arms crossed, flingin' knives out his eyes.

“Just headed to get ice cream, huh?” I stuttered, couldn’t get a single word out. He looked so disappointed, man. “Two nights, Chase? Two nights you come home hours late, doing who knows what kind of shit all night!” He was pissed, and let me tell you somethin’. No one fuckin’ talks to me like that. You raise your voice, I raise my fuckin’ fist. Talk to me like I’m some bitch and you’ll be hangin’ by your balls from the ceiling. So, why couldn’t I say anything? I stood there like a fuckin’ tool, stutterin’ and all ‘uhhh… ummm… you know…’ If he were any other bro comin’ at me like that I’d have laid his ass out on the tile floor. But not a fuckin’ word would leave my lips. I just couldn’t, man. Thank fuckin’ Christ for Omarion, savin’ the day with a quick one.

“Hey, I’m Orlando. I’m friends with Chase.” He stuck his hand out, smiling at Aidan with that charmer grin of his. “I saw this dumbass beggin’ the guy at the counter for some pistachio ice cream and was like 'yo, it’s my boy!” Aidan looked at him all skeptical, just starin’ at his hand. Turnin’ to me, all I did was nod like a fuckin’ dumbass, handing him the bag of ice cream. I was gettin’ nervous, but after a second or two he cracked a smile and shook his hand. I let out a sigh of relief. As Omarion did what he did best, playin’ it on the down low and makin’ him feel all comfortable.

“Nice to meet you, Orlando. Sorry about the blow up. But your ‘bro’ over there knows what I’m talkin’ about, right?” I could tell he was still annoyed, but Omarion’s magic tongue had taken his tone down. He waved us in, lettin’ Omarion through but holdin’ his arm in front of me before I could even walk through the door. He got in close, and I felt his arms slowly slide around my waist. I saw under that sweet lil’ smile a whole lotta sadness. I really fuckin’ hurt the guy. His lips quickly planted on mine, my eyes closed and all I wanted to do was to at least make the guy feel like this piece of shit I was piloting would do the right thing for once. When our lips parted, he leaned into my ear and whispered. “Please, Chase. Don’t do it again.”

He turned around, walkin’ to the kitchen to get some bowls. I shut the door behind us, and couldn’t avoid Omarion’s fuckin’ death stare. All of that just proved his point. I was in deep, too fuckin’ deep. But seein’ him again in that moment, the big blue eyes and that sweet smile… I was havin’ second thoughts about the plan.

---

Alright, folks! This is going to be the last entry of Horizons posted to Tumblr, the rest of this piece is gonna be exclusively on Blogspot and GSS. I know that may disappoint some of y'all, but here's why. Tumblr isn't the greatest place for longform multichapter stories, and Horizons is turning into something a lot bigger than just two or three posts on here. Each of these chapters are turning into 5k+ words and it's just not ideal for this platform. GSS allows for multiple chapters under a uniform series, which helps tremendously with continuity. I invite y'all to come check out Horizons on GSS, and I'll be sure to link it whenever a new chapter is added. As of right now, I have solid plot framework for 4 chapters of it, with it being very open to having several more afterward. I'll continue to have one-offs on Tumblr, so don't think I'm ditchin' y'all. I'm still here and I ain't going nowhere. :)

[emilibro]

Ughhh I'm so sorry to be an ass but I see so much popular art on tumblr and around the internet that really woobifies both Laios and Kabru and their relationship, especially when they're together.... You guys are aware that Laios eats monsters the way people would like. Eat animals, right? He's not crazy or stupid or sadistic or anything. He has a special interest and it's monsters.

Furthermore, his past having himself and his sister be shunned for their interests in the abnormal made him develop a distaste for humanity. Laios has just thought monsters were way cooler since he was a kid, and Falin really looked up for him for his dedication to his interests and personal code of moral ethics. He never loved his sister less for her abilities, he admired her for what made her different. Because he's fucking awesome and they're autistic as hell.... they both went through so damn much. Laios never fit into the military, into his hometown, he barely fit into most groups of adventurers since he met Marcille, chilchuck, and company, and two of the members of that original party didn't care enough to join him. His feeling of worthlessness to his friends in the beginning of the story are enough to make him imagine a whole scenario in between major chapters where he was the one who was eaten.. and he thought nobody except Falin would care enough to save him.

Point being Laios has a much richer character that goes ALONGSIDE his special interest in monsters. Which honestly is more comparable to, like. A fucking biologist. Not a monsterfucker, not a cannibal, none of that shit. Monsterfuckers are cool as a monsterfucker but he's not one.. he's more like a furry man.... And he's not stupid he's just. Autistic. Why are we making autistic characters with a silly side seem stupid? Everyone has dumb moments sure but like.. he's really smart guys... there's a reason he's such a good leader outside of his ability to listen to his party members. Don't fall for the mischaracterization of Laios that his party members originally set for him before major important arcs guys...

And Kabru. Oh my God. Kabru. Kabru is also autistic but for humans, social interactions and culture... he's a nerd for politics and the humanities, and I'll avoid saying much more to avoid spoilers for non-manga readers but you'll see more of that as time passes. But he's not the type to be easily flustered. Laios only gets to him, not even because he's that difficult to read, but because he catches him off guard. He's an interesting critter, bro. And Kabru definitely sees that. It takes time to respect that, but within a period of time he learns to see him as a relatively competent adventurer and places a lot of faith from him. On some level, this guy has learned to understand this very interesting autistic guy who is forward with his feelings that a very autistic Kabru hasn't learned to understand. That's what makes their relationship so cool, man. He's not cold in reality (though people may perceive him that way due to backstory motivations and attitude within the dungeon), but he's a lot more serious than this... c'mon guys.. let's be a little real here please.... at this point I barely like Labru anymore because they've been so like. Babied. Woobified. Whatever the word is man. I'm starting to appreciate their friendship more as a friendship now because I just think the beautiful qualities I saw in their romance have been sort of overlooked or misinterpreted. Nowadays I just think their platonic relationship is beautiful. Sighs.

Farcille is awesome though and these girls are awesome slay

-

Edit: hey guys, I wanna address a couple of things here! For one, this isn't intended to be ship hate. Labru is a perfectly valid ship - rather, I'm just not a fan of how deep the mischaracterization of both characters runs, and how it results in the subsequent babying of their relationship. While it's driven me personally away from the romance a bit, I have no problem with the ship itself. Additionally, Farcille has its own issues with woobification that could use some addressing, I just haven't had to see as much mischaracterization on my feeds. Maybe in a future post I'll address some of my personal peeves with many people's characterization of Farcille, ESPECIALLY Falin.

[magnolia-among-the-stars]

the last bit of us (chapter one)

Plot: Tyler Owens hasn’t been home in a year. He’s survived all the storm chasing and motel living with his new partners as they try to save lives. But with all the damage they’ve taken from driving high beams first into monster storms, it’s time to pay the piper and bring the truck in for repairs. And the only person who can fix them is the best mechanical engineer he’s ever met. Eleanor Harding, his estranged wife.

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Estranged Wife OC (Harding Daughter)

Word Count: 2441

Playlist Song: Snap by Rosa Linn

A/N: This is a hefty intro to Eleanor but really wanted to establish her before we get angsty!

prologue / one / two / three

______________________________________________________________

The sky was still dark when my alarm clock went off. My hand slides along the mattress, slapping the snooze button. It can’t be time already. There’s no way. I snuggle deeper into the mattress and peel one eye open to squint at the cracked window. The big moon is lower in the horizon but the sun hasn’t made its known yet. 

My phone starts to go off, across the room atop my bureau. “Fuck.” 

I try to get the kink out of my neck when I get up. The wooden floorboards of the farmhouse creak as I shuffle past the bureau into the bathroom and shut off the alarm. The bulbs above the mirror are too bright and I have to shut my eyes for a minute to adjust. I wash my face, toss my hair into a quick braid and pull up the weather app on my phone before heading downstairs. 

The coffeemaker in the kitchen is ancient but after a few taps and fiddling with the cord of the plug, it starts to gurgle. It’s a satisfying sound. While it brews, I check the living room through the archway for Carter. He’s still curled up under a small crocheted blanket on her couch where I left him last night. He’s too tall and most of his calves dangle over the arm of the couch. 

“Carter, time to get up,” I call and pull my thermostat off the drying rack to fill with fresh coffee. He doesn’t move. I sigh and look down at my watch. The long spider web of cracks in the glass doesn’t distract from the face. It’s 3:19 AM. We gotta get on the road. The wind chimes are loud out on the porch. The rain should be starting soon. 

“Carter,” I say again. I walk through the archway and grab the closest thing I can find and chuck the pillow at his face. 

Carter startles immediately, shouting “I’m up,” in the process. He grabs for his glasses, dropped onto the coffee table. 

“No you weren’t,” I say, stepping back into the kitchen to fill his thermostat. “We gotta go, the storm should be rolling in any time now and Birdie will murder us if we’re late.” When I turn to look at him, he’s sliding his rain boots back on. 

“I’m so sorry, I forgot. I thought you were Birdie’s boss,” he says, hand on his chest to fey surprise. 

“It’s too early for your sarcasm. C’mon.” The entryway into the house is cluttered with a few pairs of boots and sneakers, my raincoat and denim jacket along with a variety of hats hanging from the hooks. I stare at the wooden loveseat under the coat hooks while sliding on my boots. I can only see the bottom half of the painted heart on the backing. 

“El, anytime you want to get moving,” Carter says, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. 

I blink a little, standing up and grabbing my own backpack. “Fuck you.” 

The farmhouse sits out in the middle of an open field in Guthrie, Oklahoma. The barn doors shudder a little from the wind and I can see my dad’s red beat up Dodge Ram on the lawn. I smile a little, pushing the screen door open. It squeals as I unlock the door to my truck and slide in. The engine stutters a little when it comes to life and we whip out onto the road. 

“Did you sleep at all last night?” he asks me, taking a sip of his coffee. A bump in the road causes the truck to jump and a little splatters on him. “Ah jeez.” He tries to wipe at it and I can’t help but chuckle. 

“Not really,” I shake my head. I reach for the radio, turning the dial so I can hear the morning station. There’s a new Luke Combs song playing and I tap my fingers a little to the beat. “Too much on the brain with this project.” 

“I don’t know if you’re aware El but you always have too much on the brain,” he says.

“Well someone has to do work on this team,” I joke, smirking at him. 

It’s not a lie. Ever since Charlie and I had gotten our first big contract with FEMA, I had been in nonstop work mode. Throwing myself into each project a little deeper than the last. It was probably worrisome how much time I spent at the warehouse, elbow deep in some new tech but I couldn’t help myself. It was a safe and mindless space, fixing and tinkering. 

We drive down the long stretch of dirt through the fields and I peer up at the sky again. There’s a loud ringing in the cab of the truck and I glance over at Carter, peering down at his phone. “It’s Birdie,” he says. “She says we’re late.” 

I grin a little, shaking my head as the warehouse comes into view. The freshly painted sign on the building reads TempestEdge Innovations. I push the button on the callbox and the military grade barrier raises to allow me to drive through. I swing around the side of the building to the open garage door. It’s just about 3:46 AM. 

I slide out of the truck as the door to the garage closes behind me. “You’re late,” Birdie’s voice echoes across the warehouse. 

“Birdie, give me a break, I had to make four repairs last night before we left,” I say, walking toward the tall blonde woman. Her hair is pulled snug up into a ballerina bun, a clipboard held to the fleece of her vest. “Not all of us go for a run a 2 AM to start our day.” 

She scoffs and shoves me playfully. “Maybe you should give it a try.” 

We grin, making our way deeper into the warehouse where all of our desks are crowded together with a few computers. Tables of spare parts, design blueprints and drawings and our small kitchen are scattered throughout the space. Beyond that, my engineering floor houses large models and mock ups that sit large and wide. 

I drop my bag at my desk and smile at the photo frame on the corner. It’s from graduation at OSU. We’re all making funny faces at the camera, hugging each other tightly. I tap on my keyboard to wake the screen, noticing my phone buzzing in my pocket. I ignore it and look up, “How’s everyone doing this morning?” I ask.

“Morning E,” Palmer, our Meteorologist says when she looks up over her computer screen. She gnaws on her lip, auburn brows raised. “I don’t think this classifies as morning quite yet.” 

“I mean, dawn, maybe?” Sean says, walking up from behind me with a coffee mug in hand. It’s white with rope lettering that spells out This ain’t my first rodeo! Sean walks over to Birdie who is looking over her clipboard, comparing it to the large chalkboard we wheeled over to her corner of the office. She’s talking to herself as he kisses her head on the way to his desk. 

“Dawn is defined by a sun rising in the sky,” Carter remarks, tapping away on his computer. “Definitely not dawn yet.” 

We’re interrupted by Charlie, stepping into the office space with her phone pressed to her ear. “Alright, yes. I can definitely get out there next week. Thank you so much, have a wonderful day,” Charlie says. She smiles at everyone. “Alright team, let’s get this test going.” 

Everyone slides up from their desk chairs, grabs their tablets and walkies and heads to the back of the warehouse. We slide on our swanky mesh neon vests, easily identifiable out in the storm. Sean slides the back door open and we step out onto the ramp. The rain has started and it’s coming down sideways, like a thick curtain across the landscape. A few hundred feet from the warehouse, a row of buildings line up on either side. 

“Alright, we all remember safety procedures?” Birdie asks, looking over her clipboard. There’s a chorus of noise and Birdie grumbles. “C’mon people, we’re all about to bunker separately for the tornado. Do we all remember safety procedures?” 

“Birdie, we’ve done these bunkering tests a few times now, c’mon,” I say. 

With our current contact, we started trying to build new infrastructures on different buildings to withstand a tornado in the hopes to help families and businesses not fall into a pit of financial burden from having to rebuild. It was the biggest project yet and took us nearly six months just to build the fake town with different materials and different methods. The only way to collect data around the structural integrity of the buildings was to bunker into each of the different variations.

Palmer had tracked cells moving toward the area and we were certain an EF2 was heading straight for us. Which was a perfect opportunity to split up again and see how well the buildings held up. It would be our third test trial. It’s not the smartest move but growing up with two crazy famous storm chasers? Kind of breeds crazy. 

The winds start to pick up and I look up at the debris and dust kicking up in the air. “Alright guys, let’s head out,” I say, turning on my radio. We take off in different directions, saying goodbyes and waving each other off through the harsh winds. While Charlie stays safe inside the warehouse, Birdie takes to the gas station, Sean the grocery store. Palmer heads to the farm house tucked behind everything and Carter yells “Stay safe” as he turns into the doctor’s office. I head the furthest down the road to the bar & grille. 

I look up the doors behind me, moving to the safety corner where all the monitors are. I slide into my space and settle in, logging into our tracking system on the tablet to type in my notes. I can barely hear the wind outside and pull my walkie talkie from my waist. “Alright, I am settled and am clear. See you guys on the other side.” 

I wait, anxiously tapping my foot as I watch the footage off the street for the incoming destruction. But ten minutes passed with no noise whatsoever. I glance up and toward the door, confused. I tap the storm tracker, noticing the pattern of movement for the storm diminishing. I click the button of the walkie with my thumb. “P, am I reading right that the storm choked itself out? Over,” I say, watching the monitor again. 

“The winds are dying down, I think it missed us,” Palmer calls back.

“Let’s hold for another five minutes to be cautious,” Birdie’s voice crackles. But five minutes pass with no movement. Birdie calls that we’re clear and I head out of the building. The sun is starting to rise, illuminating the fields with a golden glow as if there hadn’t been 40 to 60 mile an hour winds and rain only a little while ago. 

“We woke up at the ass crack of dawn for this?” Carter groans. 

“Not dawn,” Palmer corrects, walking in step with us back to the warehouse. Birdie wraps her arm around Sean’s waist as they step ahead of us. 

“The conditions seemed perfect,” Birdie says, shrugging. “All we can really hope for.” 

The door slides open to the warehouse to reveal Charlie. She’s got this fixed look on her face as if she just stepped in dog shit. “We’ll get the next one Charlie, no need to fuss. They know that we can’t control the conditions of the storms,” I point to the sky and pat her on the shoulder. 

“That’s not what soured my mood,” she says. She crosses her arms over her chest and huffs. 

My eyebrows knit together in confusion as the team steps passed us, back to our desks. “What is it?”

“Someone’s out at the gate,” she says, nodding to the opposite end of the warehouse. “Someone’s here? No one comes here.”

“Oh, if only,” Charlie says. She turns on her heel, heading to the door on the other side of the building. I rack my brain for people who know the warehouse. We had some rich investors who would stop by trying to buy us out, our clients and FEMA reps that would come our way to see new tech and some family but, Mom and Dad would’ve called me before showing up. Curiosity kills the team and I hear their chairs scrap against the floor. Loud footsteps follow us as Charlie shoves the door open with a knowing look.

I step around her and peer out at the gated entrance to see a suped up red Dodge rumbling idle. The engine turns off after a moment and the driver side door swings open. I see his cowboy boots before I see him. He’s wearing a stupid flannel and his stupid backwards baseball cap. Tyler. He takes off his sunglasses, expression is hard to read. He’s not showing his normally beaming pearl whites that I caught a few times while passing Carter’s viewing of their YouTube videos. His face is stiff, uncomfortable as he rests his hands on his hips. What takes me by surprise is the young woman who steps out of the passenger side. 

I don’t notice my feet are moving until I realize how far away Birdie’s “Son of a bitch” is. I don’t even realize how fast I’m moving or how close Tyler is. “What the hell are you doing here?” I ask when I’m close enough that I could throw a rock if I wanted to. And I wanted to. 

He looks down, trying to collect his thoughts. I can see the gears turning in his brain, trying to figure out what to say to me. He rubs at his jaw, nearly smiling and leaning up against the door of the truck. His eyes sparkled a little. “Hi El.” Bold to go with charm. 

“That’s all you have to say? Hi El?” I cross my arms across my chest, staring him down. He’s insane.

Tyler purses his lips, gaze softening as he takes me in. He turns to look at the woman, now having moved in front of the hood of the car. “Kate,” his drawl is still thick with an enthusiasm that can’t be rivaled. “Meet Eleanor. Eleanor Owens.” 

“I prefer to go by Harding these days,” I retort. 

“Owens…you mean–,” the woman – Kate – stutters a little. 

“Wife,” I state, turning to look at her. “He means wife.”

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[thyme-in-a-bubble]

dewdrops deserted in the carnage 

the wistful wyvern, chapter four

a/n: we're mostly getting angsty in this chapter, buuuuut also just a little bit slutty at the end. just a little sprinkling of spice.

summary: “please, stop,” you said firmly, your glare briefly averting, “look, trust me when I say, I wouldn’t be here if I had any other choice. But unfortunately, you’re the only one with the information that we need.”

warnings: knight!bucky barnes x knight!reader, fantasy AU (monsters, but not much magic), original fantasy world, ex-friends to lovers, coworkers to lovers, former fuckboy!bucky, tattooed!bucky, slow burn, one-sided pinning, forced proximity, violence, weapons, the death of a horse, crying, only one bed, jealousy

word count: 3398

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“I mean, I knew that your dad was a crook, but One-eyed Ollie? That’s your father?” 

Letting a heavy sigh seep from your lungs, “unfortunately,” you didn’t bother throwing a glance over at the warden riding beside you.

“How did I not know this?” 

“Only the most important people know,” you shrugged, as the king had kept up his promise to keep your past secret. 

“Oh, geez, thanks, snow,” Bucky huffed, taking your comment to heart, “glad for the assurance of where we fucking stand.” 

Twisting your neck, you glanced over at him as his stare was now firm on the road you travelled down, “…fine,” you exhaled, “what do you wanna know?”

Meeting your gaze, his curiosity then began to overflow, “what’s he like? What was your childhood like? Did you know him well?”

“Uh, well,” an awkward chuckle briefly billowed out of you, “let’s just say, he wouldn’t win any awards for his parenting skills. His idea of bonding with his kid wasn’t to teach me how to fish or farm. He taught me how to lie and steal from innocent people. To be honest, I don’t even know if he ever really saw me as a child, more just a tiny impressionable human being that he could mould into the perfect addition to his team…” 

Staring over at you, he asked, “were you there back then?”

“No, that was a little before my time,” you cocked your head as you frame rocked with each of Zenna’s steps, “if I’d already been a part of the only successful attempt there’d been in all the history of Obelón at breaking into the vault in Ingorn’s palace, then I wouldn’t need to go seek help from my father after swearing I’d never even acknowledge his existence again for the remainder of my days.”

Pursing his lips, his gaze then flicked away from you as he uttered slowly, “…so, have you ever stolen anything from me?”

Rolling your eyes, you sighed loudly through the amused smile that somehow bloomed on your lips, “Buck–”

“Have you?” 

“No!” you exclaimed, “of course not.” 

“Really?” he tilted his head before turning his attention back towards the road, “your fingers never had a moment where they itched too much to resist–,” and as he spoke, you begrudgingly fulfilled his request and swept out your grasp, snatching up the coin purse at his belt right as his body’s swaying gave you an opportunity. Though as soon as you’d swiped it, completely unbeknownst to him, you threw it back in his face and the pouch struck his bearded jaw, “ow!” before it tumbled down into his grasp. 

As his eyes lifted from the purse up to shoot a glare in your direction, you just huffed, “there. You happy? I stole something from you. Now can we please just–” 

But the rest of your banter got cut short as a rumbling abruptly shook the earth beneath you. Both of the horses reacted, getting a bit spooked at their sudden unstable footing. 

Without any further warning, the dirt before you split open as a huge ankheg burrowed its way out. 

Skittering forth with its many legs, the insectoid creature ferociously jumped your horse, causing her to tumble over as the monster snapped its large mandibles at her. Tumbling to the grass, all the air got knocked out of your lungs from the impact. 

Coughing and reeling from the fall, you swiftly unsheathed a couple of daggers and tossed them just as Bucky too sent a few bolts flying as well, both of them sinking into the monster at the same time. 

Unfortunately, the ankheg hadn’t been alone as a few more then crawled out of the hole and attacked you both. 

One skurried on top of you as you were still dazed on the ground. Its long branch-like antennas swayed above its head as it screeched a clicking call over you.

The bulbous sack that protruded right on its throat throbbed as green acidic saliva began to drip out of its mouth and down its mandibles, scarcely missing your head as it sizzled against the grass.

Fiddling for a blade, you sucked in a shaky breath when you discovered there weren’t any left on your person. 

As it pinned you down and you used all of your might to keep it at bay, your glance first fluttered to your partner for help, only to discover that he too was in over his head. Your frantic eyes then flickered around, searching for anything you might be able to defend yourself with. 

And just above your head, there lied a solid rock. 

Bending your legs, you pressed your boots up against the ankheg’s hard scales, using everything you had as you slipped your right hand out and stretched it to the stone. Only your fingertips grazed it at first as it wasn’t quite in your reach. Straining till a scream forced its way out of your lungs, your grip then finally succeeded and wrapped around the rock. 

It stunned the creature slightly when you knocked the stone against its head, enough to grant you the upper hand and slip out from under it. 

You didn’t know how many times you repeatedly brought the rock down upon the monster as you lost yourself completely till you were kneeling above its smashed remains, heaving for breath, with its dark green viscera splashed across you and dripping from the stone still glued in your grasp.

The grunt of Bucky dealing the killing blow to the one he was battling didn’t manage to snap you out of your trance. But when the dying sounds of your horse cut through the blinding adrenaline within you and found your ears, in an instant the rock tumbled from your grasp.

Twisting around, tears swiftly blurred up the image of Zenna suffering on the ground, her brown-speckled stomach split open and blistering as her innards spilt out of her. 

“No, no, no–,” you shakily scrambled to your feet, but already knew there wasn’t anything you could do. 

The only thing you could do for her now was end her pain. 

Bending down, you pulled one of your daggers out of her killer’s corpse, still lying right beside her. 

Your hands were shaking so hard that you nearly dropped the blade. Every muscle in your body locked up as you tried to kneel down beside Zenna. 

Then, as tears streamed down your cheeks and dropped to the blood-stained grass below, a hand suddenly appeared and slipped the weapon out of your hand. 

Blinking up into Bucky’s blue eyes, he quietly uttered, “I’ll do it,” as he tightened his fist around the hilt of the short blade. 

As he sank down onto his knees, you turned around and shut your eyes. 

When her suffering sounds were no more and the road grew quiet, an onslaught of tears violently burst out of you. 

Rising to his feet, Bucky wrapped his arms around you before you tumbled over. Twisting slightly, you curled into him, welcoming his hug as your sobs melted against his armoured chest.

“You ready?” Bucky asked softly in your ear as he sat behind you on his ebony mount. 

Staring up at the intimidating dark stone fortress of Yoslor Penitentiary, you let out a low breath, “no.” 

Sometime in the decade since you’d been imprisoned here, your father had finally been caught. For what exactly you weren’t sure of, but the night that the king had pulled you aside to discreetly inform you, was the first one you’d soundly slept through, perhaps ever. 

Even though the last very thing you desired was to lay eyes on your dad once more, you still slipped off of the stallion but a moment after Bucky did. 

You were both let in without much fuss after stating your stature and your business. Guards led you through the prison, passed some of the cells, and escorted you to a chamber, not unlike the one you’d been in when you had talked to the king and your whole life had changed.

After you’d both taken a seat at the central table, not much time passed before, like a haunting nightmare, the voice of your father began to rumble on the other side of the closed door.

“Oh come on, gents. You can tell me who my visitor is,” your eyes fluttered shut a moment at the familiar sound, “or do you want me to guess?”

Blowing out a slow and agonising exhale, you gathered yourself right before the door burst open and in tumble your father. 

Though he was a bit slimmer now, had lost more of his hair, as well as the new accessory of heavy chains that restricted his movements, he still looked exactly the same. 

“Well, well, well…” a bright grin split apart his lips, flashing you a few of his golden teeth, as the guards tossed him down into the opposing chair and secured his chains, “my baby dewdrop,” he stared at you with the eye not scared over and covered by a leather patch, “I heard you got out.”

“Hello, Olliander,” you greeted coldly, keeping your spine straight. 

“Oh, come on, no need to be so rigid,” the chains jangled loudly and he gestured with his hands, “get over here and give your pa a big hug.” 

“Please, stop,” you said firmly, your glare briefly averting, “look, trust me when I say, I wouldn’t be here if I had any other choice. But unfortunately, you’re the only one with the information that we need.”

“And what would I get out of this little arrangement?” 

Staring back at him, you swore you felt steam begin to billow out of your ears, “you would get to help your daughter, finally do something reminiscent of good, after running and making me take the fall when I’d thought you’d only set me up to be the decoy.”

“Look, dewdrop, it was a different time back then, the authorities were hot of our trail!” he tried to diminish your statement, “someone had to go down in order to save the rest of us.”

“So, you thought it should be your own kid?” you seethed, leaning forward in your seat ever so slightly. 

“…well, you’re tough, I knew you’d be able to handle it,” he tilted his head, “and just look at you now! If I hadn’t made that decision, then you’d never have this fancy new life of yours.” 

“Don’t you dare,” the little restraint you tried to keep a hold of snapped, “don’t you fucking dare take any of the credit. You didn’t do a single thing, my entire life, you never did anything that didn’t benefit you,” your pointer finger extended accusatorially, “so, I’m not asking you, I am telling you, you will give us the information we need, or else I’ll make sure your life here gets a hell of a lot more miserable than it already is.” 

The room fell quiet, not even Bucky dared to move before your father eventually let out a heavy sigh, “…what do you wanna know?”

“The vault in Ingorn’s palace, the one made out of hellstone,” your fingers dug into your thigh beneath the table as you spoke, “how did you do it?”

The one-eyed criminal then began to laugh, “seriously? You wanna break into that? I mean, you’re good, dewdrop, almost as good as me, but come on, with how rusty you must be these days, that is just insane–”

“Just tell us how you did it,” you barked. 

“Alright, fine,” he exhaled and rested a restrained arm against the edge of the table, “well, first of all, the lock on it is a thing of beauty, you can’t just tickle her open like a lady with a few lockpicks…” 

“You know, when you said that you knew a place in Erasild where we could stash our stuff, this isn’t what I imagined,” you stared up at the building before you, before shooting a glare in Bucky’s direction, “a brothel? Seriously? We don’t have time to pause everything just so that you can get laid.”

“Hey, this is business, not pleasure,” he stated, then playfully added before heading inside, “but if you wanna get that stick out of your ass, I’m sure some of them would like to help.”

As you entered behind him, the warmth radiating from the establishment swiftly thawed the evening chill that had settled in your bones. Navigating through the clusters of small tables, gently lit by candlelight, a trio of bards in the corner caught your ear as they strummed out a smooth ditty as a part of the sensual ambience. 

A voluptuous woman then sauntered out of a backroom with a casket of clinking wine bottles in her grasp. As she sat it down on the bar with a loud thud and her gaze then flickered up to spot your travelling companion, her face lit up into a bright smile. 

“Ah! Darling!” she immediately walked up to him and threw her arms around him. Pressing her lips to his cheek in a loud peck, she then pulled him back at arm’s length to get a good look at him, “what has it been, like three years? I was starting to think you’d died on me.”

“It's good to see you too, Helen,” a warm chuckle rumbled out of Bucky, before he then twisted back towards you, “let me introduce you,” he held out an open hand in your direction, “this is Warden Y/l/n,” you bowed your head softly as she found your eye, “snow, this is Helen Raye, owner and proprietor of The Sapphire Chateau.”

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance, madam,” you offered her a tight-lipped smile. 

“The pleasure is all mine,” she purred, letting her gaze study you a second before her plump lips parted once more, “so, will you be wanting to share your entertainment tonight, or do you want someone all for yourself? There is this girl that came to me a few years back that I know you’d just love,” your eyes couldn’t help but grow wide as Helen battered her eyelashes up at Bucky, “she can’t just bend herself into a pretzel, but every other shape imaginable.” 

“Uh, some other time, Hel,” he declined with a polite smile, “we’re not really here for that.”

“Oh,” she breathed, though still smirked back at Bucky like she was about to ravage him. 

“We just need a place to set off a few things, let Echo stay, just for a little bit while we go pay Ingorn a visit.” 

“Ah, you must be going to that fancy ball they’re throwing! I’ve no idea what the occasion is, but business has been booming the past few weeks as all sorts of lords and ladies have passed through on their way down to the capital.”

Sharing a glance with you at the new information, Bucky then fibbed, “uh, yeah, we–… we are.” 

Twisting her frame, Helen then waved down a lanky boy behind the bar and said, “I’ll have Jeremy take care of your horse,” you watched as the lad zoomed out to do his duty, “and if you want somewhere secure to store your items, you’re welcome to use the little safe in my room.” 

“Thank you,” you uttered. 

“Do you have any rooms available?” Bucky asked as Helen manoeuvred around the bar, “a hot bath would be nice before we head out again.” 

“Uh,” her vision fluttered down behind the counter where a few keys hung from small hooks, “I have one room unoccupied,” she held up a dangling key, hooked on her curved finger, “it’s yours if you want it.”

And before you could protest about how this didn’t line up with the limited time you had to work with, Bucky had already snatched up the key, “thanks.”

“Room eight,” her teeth lightly caught her bottom lip, “your favourite, if I recall correctly.” 

If his back hadn’t been turned to you, the flush that then crept up on Bucky’s features would have been noticeable to your eyes even in this low light, “it–, uh, yeah, thanks,” he then cleared his throat, “the soap and such still in the same spot?”

“It is.”

“Great,” he exhaled, then turned to you, “I’m gonna head up first, get cleaned up,” his feet already began to carry him towards the staircase in the corner, “you mind ordering us some food? I’m starving for a proper meal.” 

“Uh, sure,” you uttered, still a bit stunned as you now found yourself without a buffer, “so, what kind of food do you serve in this establishment?”

“Let me get you a menu, love,” Helen headed into the back for a moment, only to return with more than just a pamphlet of culinary options. As the list slid over the bar towards you, her palm also insistently pushed a small glass vial containing some dried herbs in your direction. 

“What–,” heat began to rise in your cheeks as you read the small label. It was athrire, the herb commonly brewed into a tea and utilised as birth control, “oh, no, thanks, but I don’t need this.”

“You’ve been on the road for a while, and from how I know that man, you’ve probably run out by now,” she winked and pushed it right back to you as you tried to return it. 

“No, it’s really not like that, we’re not–”

“Darling,” her hand enclosed momentarily around yours, “just take it.”

When you’d found the room, Bucky was so fresh out of his bath that you nearly caught a glimpse of something as he buttoned up a fresh pair of pants. Droplets still trailed down his inked physique as he turned at the sound of your entrance. 

If his painstakingly slow work at covering his drool-worthy body up again hadn’t been enough to make you more flustered than a bashful bunny, the discovery that the room only had one bed sure did the trick.

It shouldn’t have surprised you, but it still managed to. 

And when you stated that you’d just sleep on the floor and let him have the plush mattress all to himself, Bucky argued teasingly that you’d slept under the stars together countless times before. 

But that had been different, oh so very different and he knew it.

As he disappeared to get your food, you grabbed a quick bath. The view of the night sky from out of the balcony doors relaxed and distracted you long enough that you had to scramble at the last moment when Bucky returned, knocking on the door before you shrieked for him to stay on the other side just a moment longer as you rushed out of the tub. 

After the warm meal was scarfed down and a dozen yawns had escaped your lungs, you found yourself in a place you never thought you’d actually get to be. 

In bed next to Bucky. 

You were afraid to move. Just laid there like a statue, your stare darting from the constellations clear out the tall window, to the small Zondür alter in the corner of the chamber. 

But eventually, you heard your hushed tone fill the room, “so, Helen…”

“Hm?” Bucky hummed from his side of the bed, “what about her?”

“She seems nice,” your gaze bore a hole into the ceiling. 

Hearing him shift beside you, he said, “well, she is.” 

Feeling his gaze upon your silhouette, you didn’t dare to twist and meet his eye, “…so, how many of the other people that work here do you think are nice?”

A short chuckle then bubbled out of him, “snow…” before he teased, “what are you trying to get a personal recommendation or something?”

Your mouth then flew open as you shot him a glare, “no, I just–,” letting out a loud groan, “forget I said anything,” and you frantically turned your back to him, “go to sleep.” 

“Helen is very good at what she does,” he casually informed you through his amused smirk, “she hires people who are very good at their job, people who are very nice. You’d be in good hands with any of them.”

“I-I wasn’t trying to–,” you stammered, nearly twisting around to bash his mass in the moonlight, “just shut up, please!” but he just laughed. 

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[koiiiji]

i accidentally posted this without any text, that’s why im reuploading it, like this, sorry!!

so, sure bby!! will try to figure out something for them

also i think this part ideally fits with latest chapters, bc it was mostly about sabbath!! and wb fandom is finally knowns Joker real name Hajun…so cute!!

you know what else is cute? my bday today😤😤

☾ all characters aged up ☾

*ੈ✩‧₊ sabbath & monster crew nasty/perverted habits pt.2🍐 🐇🧴

COQUETTE!Joker/Hajun

hardly sure that joker shyly would ask you to wear some bows and lace, he definitely have thing for coquette, fight me. seeing you under him, wearing cute skirt, or pink top with open neck and collarbone with lace collar, mix it and add some snow white leg warmers? don’t even think about opportunity to walk next morning.

JERK OFF!Hyeok

mentioned in my really first headcanons that hyeok is pervert who jerk off on random girls who he saw on street, if he found them hot, like bitch do this by memory (he is too lazy to search some porn to turn himself on) so he have good imagination. when he saw you in league of street, wearing your sport uniform he was so grateful that he didn’t participate in competitions that day, his pants felt too tight suddenly.

EXHIBITIONIST!Wooin

wooin is up to everything. like everything. but his dirty secret? to fuck you when someone watches, like a boy/girl from your uni who had a crush on you. maybe share you with someone too (someone white or red haired preferably)

KNISMOLAGNIA!Monster/Deokbong

he can’t control himself when your touch is even a little bit feels like a tickle. it may seem strange, but he is very sensitive in certain places, for example in his back, and when you haven't dated yet, but were just friends, it was so hard for him to restrain himself when you hugged him and stroked his back... poor boy was immediately turned on.

FOOT FETISH!Gyuchan

do i even need to explain? gyuchan fascinated by your legs and foot, bonus points if you doing sport connected to extra load to legs, so firstly he would use massage for your legs as an excuse to touch it and feel. secondly you found yourself mostly in positions in sex where your legs are close to his face, like for example they laying on his shoulders and he stroking and kissing your ankles. when you had a talk he admitted that he had a foot fetish and honestly he was so ready for some jokes about foot fetishists.

[syluscore]

Every Version of You (2)

A reverse harem with three variants of Leon Kennedy and feminine reader.

~ Masterlist ~ Previous Part ~ Next Part ~

WORD COUNT: 3.7k

SONGS: Daylight - David Kushner and Linger - The Cranberries

CONTENT WARNINGS FOR PART TWO: depression, grief, suicidal thoughts, death idealization, yearning for childhood, reminiscing on girlhood, paranoia, nightmares, monsters, dead looking bodies, time travel, the unknown, denial, trauma, PTSD, hugging, embracing, kissing, first kiss, mentions of readers death

TAGLIST: @growingupnrealizing​ , @weneewinnie , @delulusimps , @yoonbabe-d , @missjoenowhere , @cassiecasluciluce 

!!!!!MINORS DNI! THIS BLOG AND POST ARE 18+ ONLY!!!!

PART “CHAPTER” TWO:

Your eyes are puffy and stinging. You’ve always hated how weak you are; how easily you fall apart. You thought that you were getting stronger. You truly believed you had hardened from all the adversity you’ve witnessed and endured the past couple of miserable years.

But seeing Leon’s limp body fall into that machine, watching him disappear right in front of your eyes, you feel like that young, terrified little girl again. 

The girl who didn’t like scary movies, covering your eyes anytime you thought something even remotely scary was going to appear on screen. The girl who didn’t like to be alone, feeling safer surrounded by others. The girl who relied on a night light and leaving the closet light on because nothing was scarier than the dark. 

You want it back. God, you want your girlhood back. You feel physically ill from the pain coursing through your veins and chipping away at your soul. You want your sweet and naive innocence back because regardless of how strong you wish you could be, you’re incapable of it and you can’t endure this. You weren’t built for this. How could you ever fool yourself into believing you could be strong in the face of incomprehensible pain. 

You close your eyes tight and will yourself to go back in time. To be in that tiny bed underneath some frilly blanket, comfy in some nightgown with a cartoon character on the front. You’d pull the blankets up to your chin, plushies on either side of your small frame and by god, you’d not just be, but you’d feel fucking safe.

Your blanket would tuck under your feet, protecting your toes from the invisible monsters of your overactive and colorful imagination. And that would remain your biggest concern in life. The only danger to you would be the shadow coming off of some stray jacket, illuminating from the little bit of moonlight shining in through your sheer bedroom curtains. 

And you’d squeeze your eyes shut real tight. You’d think about running outside after lunch with your classmates to the playground. Your friend would push you on the swing and you’d wait in line for a turn on the slide. You’d finally accomplish skipping some of the monkey bars as you crossed them. 

Your happy place would have you slowly relaxing and unwinding until sleep took you. The imaginary monsters would fade away along with your consciousness.

The morning light would greet you through your bedroom window and you’d sit up. You’d stretch real big and crawl out from under the covers. The fears that stewed within you in the dark would be long forgotten. They’d vanish in the daylight and you would be free of them. 

You wouldn’t think about how inevitably night will return and so will the monsters. You’d only think of the present as you got dressed and ready for school. You’d be confident, well rested, and most importantly: peacefully and irrevocably happy.

When you’re young, your monsters don’t chase you into the day. The entire world could be falling apart around you and you wouldn’t even know it. Because when you’re young, you're exempt from the world’s cruelty. 

You never anticipate the day it’s all stolen from your fragile arms as it approaches. One day, something that means nothing to everyone else in the world will change everything for you. Your girlhood is stripped from you and the world comes crashing into you. You can beg and plead for that innocence back, but once it’s gone it can’t be undone. 

Maybe you weren’t meant for this world, never meant to live past your cherished girlhood. Maybe you’ve lived past your expiration date and that’s why you suffer so deeply.

The world is trying to form a life around someone who shouldn’t be here. People will tell you it’s better to have loved and have lost than to never have loved at all. But they never tell you none of it would’ve ever mattered had you never been at all. 

You feel broken to your core. You’re not the little girl running barefoot through the grass chasing fireflies anymore. You’re the woman who just watched the man she never got to love die in front of her, who can only think of the relief she’d feel to just follow after him, join him somewhere better than here.

Anywhere is better than the concrete floor as the world goes on around you while yours feels as if it’s coming to an end. How can no one else feel the complete utter loss?

“Hey, please listen to me,” the man with his arms wrapped around you tries to get your attention. You’ve been ignoring every attempt he’s made since Leon died. But his grasp on you has never wavered. As you fell apart, the man held you and your pieces together, keeping you from self imploding and becoming nothing but a stain on the floor.

“He’s going to be fine. Just be patient.”

Your eyes finally dart up to his face. “Fine? What part of any of this gives you the impression that everything will be just fine?” Your voice wavers, weak from sobbing and screaming.

“I wish it was easy to explain, but I think you have to see it for yourself. He’ll be right back here soon, I promise. You have my word, I swear to you,” his voice is completely sincere, but you can’t help but huff out a laugh at his words. You did see whatever this was for yourself. You don’t think this man can defy the laws of physics, so how the fuck can Leon be okay?

“Let me show you something.” He stands up and reaches his hand out for you to grab. It’s not like there’s anything else for you to do, so you let him pull you up and guide you to the other side of the room.

He stops in front of the body on the floor. The man is on his side, facing away from you so all you can see is his limp form. 

You look up at the man next to you with confusion.

You’re finally able to take in his appearance. The man has dark brown hair and a beard to match, both tidily trimmed. His dark eyes are complemented by his dark, prominent eyebrows. His broad shoulders match his large presence, his arms damn near the size of a person’s torso. The man could crush your body within the palm of his hand and not break a sweat. It’s intimidating, no matter how gentle he seems. 

“You see him breathing, right?”

You look down at the body beneath you and see a slow heartbeat. At least he’s not dead, but it doesn’t change how weird it is that he fell at the same time that… Actually you’re not going to think about that right this second. If you want to properly process any information at all, you have to focus on what’s in front of you and not the tsunami growing inside of you.

You nod slowly, prompting the man to continue. 

“Walk around to his other side and get a good look at his face.”

You raise your eyebrows in confusion, not following with what this has to do with Leon being somewhere in a tank allegedly alive and well.

“Go ahead, it can’t hurt to look. Just don’t touch him. What he’s going through right now is still super new and we don’t know how outside forces on his body will affect him.” 

Sighing, you give in and slowly walk around the man on the ground. His face is tucked against the floor so you have to squat down to see it properly.

You take in the man's features and immediately recognize him, or who he looks like more accurately.

“Um,” you pause as your brain tries to formulate words while it still feels like mush, “He looks like Leon.”

“He does?”

“Well, yeah, he does. He looks like Leon maybe, I don’t know, 5 or so years ago.” You look up at the man, searching his face for answers but not finding anything. You’re not even sure what you’re looking for and it’s starting to irritate you how he isn’t actually explaining anything.

“It is.”

“Come again?” You question.

“It doesn’t just look like Leon from 1998, it is Leon from 1998. That’s where he’s from.”

You laugh as the man jokes with you. Now isn’t the time for stupid jokes, but it feels good to laugh. Maybe he knows you need to laugh after the breakdown of the millennia. 

“I’m serious. And the man up above the tank?” He points up at him and your eyes follow. “That’s Leon from 2014, from the future. He’s the reason we’re all here, but he’ll explain that to you more when you’re ready.”

You just stare up at him, waiting for him to drop the bit but he doesn’t falter.

“I know we’re far away from him, but doesn’t he look like an older Leon? And it’s pretty crazy that the man on the floor looks exactly like Leon used to. I wouldn’t lie to you, especially at a time like this. You may not believe me now, but it will start to make more sense. Well, as much sense as it can make.”

You continue to stare at him, the face crack has to be coming soon. Much to your surprise, his face remains deadass serious.

You rub your eyes, trying to relieve the ache from the dryness. Willing them to refocus and make things make sense. 

You look back down at the man on the floor with the dirty blond fringe, the soft jawline with supple but plump lips. He’s so goddamn beautiful and unmistakingly Leon, just as you remember him from Racoon City.

“R-Rookie?” Your voice breaks. You feel the need to cry but there’s just no more tears left for you to cry. The rivers have run dry. 

Your body aches with the need to reach out and touch him. To feel his soft skin and confirm he’s real and right here in front of you. Something to assure you this isn’t some twisted dream you need to wake up from.

But that’s wishful thinking. Your emotions and deep rooted pain is too intense for it to be a dream and you know it. Your brain could never concierge up something like this. Your brain could never allow you to stay asleep as your heart breaks. You always wake up when the nightmare gets too bad, and it’s been beyond terrible since the moment these men showed up.

“We’re ready to wake one of them up now. Which one do we pull out, Chris?” The man at the functions panel calls over to us.

“Rookie.” The man that you now know is called Chris answers almost immediately.

“And does the senorita agree?” 

Your head darts up and your eyes connect with the other mans.

“Please.” Your voice is barely a shaky whisper.

He nods his head, his shaggy dark brown–almost black hair falling back over his shoulder as he focuses back on the panel. 

You look back over the sleeping Leon, you can’t help the small smile that slips out as you admire the sweet rookie. Maybe you’ve gone crazy and this is all a delusion, a way for your brain to cope with trauma, but you’re so happy to see his younger self. He still has that boyish look to him, a hopefulness about him even while fast asleep.

A bittersweet feeling creeps up on you. You watched as the light in his eyes slowly dulled out. As the horrors he’d seen and people he’d lost slowly chipped away at his mental health. It’s so sweet to see him and remember the happy go lucky rookie he once was, but it’s such a bitter pill to fucking swallow knowing how it’s all ripped away from him quicker than he can even process it.

He still hasn’t had that time to process everything that’s happened over the past few years. You’ve always encouraged him to go to therapy and come to terms with it all, but he isn’t ready to cope with the trauma. If he can push it away, maybe, just maybe it’ll be less real. He wouldn’t need to cope with it if he just never allowed himself to get into it.

Leon groaning on the ground beneath you pulls you from your thoughts. You fall to your knees as you fight to keep your hands at your side. You don’t want to hurt him and no one has told you if it’s safe to touch him yet. 

His eyes twitch as he rolls onto his back.

“Leon?” You speak quietly, hesitantly. His eyes finally snap open as he looks over at you. 

A smile breaks across his face despite him wincing in pain against the unforgiving concrete floor. “Funny seeing you here.” 

“Yeah,” you speak on a huff of air. Because of course he’s joking and spouting out some bullshit one liner at a time like this. 

You reach your hands out in an offer to help him up and he slowly obliges. His eyes widen as you actually use your strength to help pull him up. 

“Okay, muscles. When’d you get those?” He says with amusion filling his voice.

“Well, I’m not just some archivist for the police department anymore.”

“What happened?” His concern and confusion is clear as he tilts his head slightly. Did they pull Leon from before the outbreak? Does he not know of the horrors you faced through those dreadful late September nights?

“What time is it, like, where you’re from?”

“Um,” he closes his eyes as if deep in thought. “September 1998. Like the 20th was when these assholes showed up.”

So he hasn’t lived through the outbreak yet. Interesting.

He started with the RPD in early September, before everything went to shit. You didn’t start much earlier than he did–some time mid summer. You two only talked briefly when you would run into each other throughout the station. You didn’t form a bond until after that night. A zombie apocalypse and killing the rotting shells of your former friends and colleagues will do that to you. The giant fucking tyrant and monsters didn’t help either.

“Do you know why you’re here? Why either of us is here?” You ask, finally feeling like maybe you’re ready to talk about it. You trust Leon more than anyone else. This is still your Leon, just from the past you suppose. It’s still weird to think about, but there’s bigger issues at hand currently.

“Hardly. They’ve explained some stuff to me but I don’t understand any of it. Guess I’m just here for the ride.”

Your heart sinks at his response. The one person you trusted to be honest and explain things to you doesn’t know what’s going on either. 

Chris speaks up, “He’s here to help you. Sure, you could recognize an older Leon but you’d know a younger Leon. We could’ve left him out and just came back here to your current Leon, but Leon wanted you to be comfortable. He wanted to do everything he could to help you understand and just believe us in general.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “But why? Let’s say this is time travel or whatever the fuck, why are you doing any of this? What’s the end goal?”

“I think it’d be better for Leon to explain it to you.” You whip your head towards the Leon standing beside you, but Chris shakes his head and continues, “Not that one. The older version. We’ll call you Rookie, you know, just to make things clearer.”

“I don’t know how this could ever be clearer.”

“Maybe we should put you back to bed, Rookie.”

“Maybe we-”

Rookie is cut off by the man at the control panel speaking again. “I’m going to wake up the big boy now.”

You and Rookie go silent as Chris joins the other man at the panel.

“Do we really need to wake his grumpy ass up yet, Luis?”

“Don’t you worry. She’s here now so he’ll be in better spirits.”

“You’re so sure?”

“No,” Luis turns to face you. “Hey if Leon is being an asshole, feel free to put him in his place for us. You’re the only one who might be able to.”

Leon on top of the platform shoots up from where he’s laying with a loud gasp. He massages his temples as his chest heaves.

“Fuck, that’s the last time we have to do that right? Shit’s fucking painful.”

Luis speaks in a taunting voice, “Good morning sunshine. Wake up on the wrong side of the bottomless vat?”

Leon doesn’t speak, only shooting daggers at Luis with his eyes. Luis just shakes his head as Leon climbs slowly down the ladder. 

“It’s the last time,” Chris does his best to assure Leon.

“Fantastic.” Leon marches over to the control panel, before crossing his arms over his chest.

“We’re doing this all for you. You remember that right?” Chris arches an eyebrow at Leon.

“Doesn’t make it any more comfortable.” 

Luis and Chris shake their heads at Leon’s attitude before quietly talking amongst themselves. Leon just stands there, staring off into the empty vat of liquid.

“Leon?” You speak quietly, but Leon instantly hears it. Almost as if he’d be listening and waiting for your voice.

He whips around and looks over at you. He doesn’t move a muscle once his eyes meet yours. His eyes well up with moisture and unspoken emotions. You can see his chest rapidly rising and falling. He looks like his body is vibrating purely from intense thoughts and feelings, raging inside of him until his body is left paralyzed, unable to feel anything besides the deep, dark ache.

In an instant, something snaps inside of him and he’s taking long strides directly in your direction. Your breath hitches in anticipation as he reaches you in a mere seconds, taking you into his arms and wrapping his biceps around your neck. You’re pulled against his chest before your brain can even catch up, before it can even process that he’s hugging you.

Despite the anxiety of being in such close proximity to him, you’re also overcome with an overwhelming calmness. You melt beneath his touch and allow yourself to relax completely within his arms. You’ve never felt anything quite like this before. Nothing has ever felt so perfect in your entire life. Nothing’s ever felt this fucking right.

He nuzzles his face into the top of your hair, breathing in so deeply, as if you are his life support machines and he’d cease to exist without you against him. And you hadn’t realized it until today, but it’s the same way for you. Who are you without him? You’d be the first to admit it’s super unhealthy to feel this way, but it was never intentional. You feel like you belong right here and it makes your heartbeat stutter to think that maybe he feels the exact same way.

He releases his grip on you and pulls back just enough to look down at your face. His hands cup your cheeks as he takes you in, looking as if he’s in an absolute trance. As if he can’t believe you’re right here in front of him. You’ve never felt so adored or appreciated as you do while he stares at you with this bewildered look on his face. 

Your eyes instinctively close and your brain is slow to catch up with what’s happening. Your eyes dart open again once you process the fact that his lips are against yours. He’s kissing you. You’ve never kissed Leon before.

Of course you’ve thought about, fantasized about him in ways you could never speak out loud. It feels better than you ever imagined and it has your eyes falling shut once again. Before you realize it, you’re wrapping your arms around his waist tighter, pulling him even more closely into you. You cling to him as if you’re an open wound and he’s the pressure keeping you from bleeding out completely. You’re the wound and he’s the fucking suture.

You know it’s fucked up to have never admitted your feelings for Leon out loud before, and yet, you’re here lip locked with his older self. None of it makes any fucking sense but somewhere deep inside of your soul, it’s the only thing that’s ever made any sense at all.

When he deepens the kiss, you welcome him into you without any objections. You let him piece you back together with nothing more than his touch.

He releases your face and slides his hands down your body until he reaches the back of your thighs, pulling your feet off of the ground so you’re forced to wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his midsection.

You know somewhere in this room are three other people, or rather two other people and another version of Leon, but you can’t find it within you to care. To even allow yourself to focus on having any sort of shame when he clearly has none. You’ve never needed anything more than you need this man right fucking now.

You know the fact you’ve been on an emotional rollercoaster all fucking day is amplifying your need, but it feels so good. You just want to feel good, you want him to make you feel good.

Your lips finally separate and your foreheads press into each other. You stay there perfectly still as you breathe each other’s air. Your breath is his and his breath is yours.

“Le-Leon,” you stutter out breathlessly but he just shushes you. His lips grazing yours as he continues to hold you so close, unable to withstand even a centimeter existing between the two of you.

He pulls back so he can look directly into your eyes intensely.

“I’ll never let anything happen to you again. You’re not dying on me this time. I don’t want to live without you anymore, I can’t fucking do it, okay? A life without you isn’t a life worth living for me.”

Dying? What the fuck is he talking about?

[suguru-getos]

fractures // geto suguru x f!reader // chapter 4

links: part 1 / part 2 / part 3

story summary: being a monkey is the norm except when you're captured by geto sama because he needs money from your parents. however, you may just have to suffer a little extra because of the forced thinking about the right and wrongs... you're putting him through. the affection you’re forcing him through…

chapter summary: only five more days left to finally be able to leave the geto estate, however with an environment so brutal & scathing… the reader is slowly losing her will to keep going, and her hopes with it.

warnings: depressed reader, geto is being a cunty bitch as always (but hes softened a teensy bit if you squint), trying to provide the resder comfort in his own way. degradation. not beta’d by me i’m a lazy ass bitch :33

you sat lonesome, devastated & absolutely crushed below the shower. the way the cold water drenched your hair, every hit of it against your skin reminding you of the fact that you were alive, still alive unfortunately. and will be alive, until geto suguru gets what he’s promised. the money. its been close to an hour and your skin has started to wrinkle apart, you are so lost in your thoughts that your mind forgets to register how cold you feel with the shivering. the white marble flooring of the bathroom against your bare bottom & the soles of your feet a constant reminder of the coldness.

“y/n.” a voice echoed from outside the expensive glassed sliding door of the bathroom. it sounds like a fake echo amidst the stormy thoughts you’re battling.

“Y/N!” the voice snapped louder, and you jerked at the shocking bellow. flinching and getting pulled from your mind to what’s real. “yes?” you answered meekly, getting up on your now wobbly feet with how long you had been sitting the same and twisting the shower nozzle to stop.

“just checking if you had died.” manami’s voice scoffs from outside the door, footsteps walking away from you and sounding delightfully fainter.

you want to kill everyone & yourself. these people were so beyond powerful that you didn’t know humans could… do that.

begrudgingly, passionately hatefully, you got up and wandered to wear clothes and apply any cream that could soothe your now dry & angry skin. that’s when you see the girls.

mimiko & nanako, peeking through the door and humming. “you are pretty.” one of them smiles, “shame you’re nothing but a monkey.” she pouted, the one with brown, whiskey-kin hair. you blink, unsure how to respond to something that sounded awfully unclear. “what do you mean when you say monkey?” you asked, sighing.

the girls invited themselves in, putting your food beside you. “geto sama wants you to eat.” the raven haired little girl numbly reiterated. you nodded, unsure why they respected the monster so much. then again, you also think he is insanely kind to everyone but you. oh how fun.

“funny he didn’t bring me an animal bowl since he called me a mutt.” you scoffed, you know the life within you brimming and enflamed could one day kill you. maybe it should. oh no… you’re starting to feel depressed. why else do you think so frequently that you should rather fucking die?

“mimiko, nanako, you both are excused.” the velvety hum of geto’s voice from the entrance of your door echoed. it sent instant chill in your spine, the color of blood & fear mingled into the reminding dark red that oozed from the word ‘monkey’. the girls listened to him as if he was all they ever had. conflicting, the tender tone he used for those teenagers was conflicting.

he walks in, hands in front with the gojo-gesa making him look even more majestic than he is. he is tall, bigger than you, and his cologne is perfect. you wondered if he dresses like this to hide the real him. the rotten, unemotional, sadistic bastard.

“did you like sleeping on the floor yesterday?” he hums, clearly in a mood to stab your barely healed psyche wounds. “yes, it was comfortable. i’m sure sleeping on the bed must have been quite uncomfortable.” your sarcasm is biting, you haven’t had a good sleep thanks to him. “get used to it, little mutt.” he shrugs, “get used to it until your pathetic parents can gather the money they are demanded.”

you sigh, right. money… “i am.” the fight within you is flickery, and you never know what might rub geto the wrong way & suddenly your whole body is chopped up. “you clean up bearable.” geto hums again, his eyes flickering towards how devastatingly gorgeous you look post shower.

“i know.” you respond again, waiting, bracing. he is here to hurt you anyway. he’s doing that everyday ever since you’re here. “the girls brought you food, eat.” he sounds demanding suddenly, breaking the chain of your vile overthinking.

“is it poisoned?” you snarkily replied. rolling your eyes. you have come to the delusional conclusion that this “geto” person wouldn’t kill you. until he has the money that is… that is the sole reason why your mouth hasn’t stopped.

suguru’s gaze almost softens, you look pale, having lost a lot of blood. he remembers how bruised your skin looked, and you look like you have easily lost a few pounds. he has come to a conclusion that he doesn’t like damaged goods. even when he’s returning them. that is a much better explaination than the other one that meekly whispers to his heart: he has a soft spot for a fucking monkey!

“it’s not. i am fully capable of stuffing that useless mouth full.” he answers, equal bite to his tone. oh his words scathe and burn you, but they do the same to him. they feel like branding on his skin. especially when the light in your eyes fades a little more at his sentences. you hesitantly take a bite, then another… and another. you didn’t know you were ‘this’ hungry, because you could swear the plates are finished in a few minutes. suguru feels a motherly joy upon seeing you like this, before he forcibly snaps himself out. “five more days, then you’re a free girl.” he hums, wanting to see the excitement in your eyes of finally ridding yourself off of him. to his surprise, there was none.

“if i am alive by then.” you hummed, there was no malice in your words, no ill-intent, no insight to piss him off. that’s what HURTS him. it feels like the wrath of a thousand suns is coming for him. you actually… feel that you wouldn’t survive.

for you, its because you want to give up. maybe kill yourself, maybe let him kill you. the idea of a ‘life’ after this whole ordeal seems draining. it would take so much to heal from it; and you’re becoming more and more unsure with every passing day.

suguru gets up, glancing your way once more. you are torturing him just by breathing. “if you had one last wish, what would it be?” he asks, partially to see any emotion apart from the numb on your face. be it fear.

you looked at him, “that you don’t tell my parents i’m dead. tell them i escaped & wouldn’t return.”

he widens his eyes, the frog in his throat unbearably tight. he clears his throat to sound the same distinct monotonous, unkind tone. “they should be happy their daughter is dead if you were to… stop… breathing.” he has to strain the last two words out of him. his jaw tightening.

“a-after all, what use are you to them? you are giving them stress while they try to collect money for you. to save you. and here you are, so okay with your demise.” there is a questionable vigor in his tone. as if he’s trying his best to stop you from killing yourself. “the only reason you’re still alive is because they promised the money.” and… not because suguru can’t bring himself to kill you. yeah, that’s it.

tears sting your eyes, your heart feels heavy. you don’t want to die either… you’re just tired god damn it! “what’s your full name?” you asked him, trying to deviate from the topic.

suguru is taken aback at that change, why do you want to know more about him? “geto suguru.” he hums, responding rather conceited.

“during sunset.” he begins again, unsure why he’s saying what he’s about to say. kicking himself for it. “the gardens… look exceptionally beautiful.”

you raised a brow, curiosity brinming within your bones. “if you don’t wish to die even one bit, a walk might help.” he gets up with that, leaving for the exit. before doing so, he stands at the entrance, “should you want to be a good daughter who is at least breathing when she meets her parents, i would be there in the gardens too. an unwelcomed and imposed company.”

you don’t have an answer to that. except a sigh of relief when he leaves, he didn’t hurt you today… until now. how relieving…

what you don’t know is geto is leaned against that very door, replaying this conversation over and over in his head like a stuck tape-recorder. almost choking at the way you were. maybe he needs to get back at it, killing annoying monkeys. that… should help?

[jolapeno]

the angel + the devil

javier peña x f!reader | halloween fic for late night texts

summary: “You may be dressed like that,” he says, dropping his voice “But I know how dirty your halo is.”

chapter warnings: bonus chapter to late night texts, although you can still enjoy without reading. fluff. halloween costumes. reader does wear a dress and heels. javi flirting. office party vibes. sexy talk, alluding to smut, but no actual smut or anything (similar to most of the chapters in the series) romcom vibes ofc ✨ wordcount: 2.4k

an: i still cant believe how beloved this little series is. i hope you like this little hallow-shot of my fave pairing.

text key: bold is you/reader | italics is javi

Don’t forget tonight is my works halloween party, if you’re still coming.

i haven’t forgotten baby

You say that but you forgot to bring milk the other day.

you told me you was wearing my shirt, naked

Thought high-pressured situations were your bag, baby.

well you do always know the way to bring me to my knees

Pocketing his wallet and keys, Javi stares up at your work building.

He’s picked you up from work plenty of times, but he’s never been inside. Not like this, anyway.

Over breakfast, dinners and more since the two of you have been dating—and then living together—he’s managed to collect snippets of information.

Been able to make collages from the pieces you hand him—a picture board with ribbons and string connecting things, concocting an image of what things must look like. From the place the copier is to what your desk looks like.

Tonight, he’ll get to see it himself. He’ll have the chance to see the photo strip from Houston there, a little cactus plant you’d named Randy and a set of trays (all filled with paperwork) that he’d helped you find in town.

The rest though, was blank. All fuzzy in his mind.

A puzzle, one needing to be solved.

It’s why his finger and thumb brush against themselves as he steps through the doors, the instructions you’d given him illuminated on his phone. It’s easy enough, especially with the decorations up the stairs, hearing himself being called to by the distinct sound of the Monster Mash that is floating to his ears, guiding him to you.

Maybe, he should have texted to say he was here.

You’d be waiting for him then. Likely hovering at the doorway, looking somewhat lost and nervous—it brings back memories of scribbled-out signs and bubbling apprehension at the airport.

But, if anything, that’s why he doesn't text—doesn’t announce or tell you he’s parked up and climbing the staircase two at a time to see you.

Because Javi wants to see you, capture a sight of you across the room, and give you another romantic moment to add to the ones that make the both of you so “movie-like”.

Except, as soon as he steps through the last doorway, and his eyes land on you, he realises the moment isn’t for you, but rather for him.

His stomach flutters, fingers halting in their previous nervousness, stretching out as his head tilts. He takes you in—trails his eyes from the heel of your white shoes to the nervous finger-tapping you’re doing on the red cup, before he reaches your face—flecks of glitter, painted lips.

And fuck are you pretty.

You’re more than an angel. You’re something else entirely.

Ethereal, captivating, irresistible.

The mere sight of you making his throat dry and his heart quicken all over again, just like it had done outside that airport. Just like you had done from the first text to the see you later you left him with this morning.

He pinches his thigh, just lightly—because again, he’s left with the thought, the realisation: you chose him.

A reminder that is forever there. One he normally buries in gratitude against your lips, or clutches your hand—

You tiring from an ex-DEA agent yet, cariño?

Not even a little bit, handsome.

You’d chosen him because of text messages, fallen for him because of phone calls, and fell further in a hotel room miles away. Him doing the same, re-falling each day all over again due to moments he never thought he’d get to enjoy.

Simple things, like you sewing a jacket on his Pop’s coat to the way you listened when he finally told you everything that happened in Colombia. Your face not shifting, not until the end, not until you ended up in his lap telling him how proud you were of him.

Something he believed.

Somehow, though, a small part of him still expects this to be a dream. A cruel joke from life, because you’re way too good to be true. You’re nothing but kind, generous. Doing everything to remind him continuously how much he deserves you. That he’s good, worthy, amazing.

He’s about to clear his throat, announce his arrival, when your laugh dies at something one of your colleagues says. Then, he watches in slowed time how your eyes sweep—a thing he suspects you’ve been doing since way before he arrived—before landing right on him.

It forces his heart to skip.

A smile, different than the one you’d given to your colleague, spreads and flowers across your face—the fairy and ceiling lights not holding a candle to the way it brightens up the room.

He finds himself mirroring it, letting it unfold, grow, spread, sliding up into his cheeks as he watches you excuse yourself, placing your cup down on a desk before you rush over to him.

“Hey, handsome.”

“Look at you, angel.”

His fingers slide across his jaw, half-tempted to ask you to twirl—witness how the white dress skims your knees, trailing his eyes up and down, drinking you in all over again.

If you mind, you say nothing, although he imagines your cheeks will be warm if he touches them. Your eyes dropping, fingers moving, sliding to adjust the straps of your feathered wings, before touching up the headband with your halo attached—the one he’d watched you glue the other night, tongue out, teeth perched near the tip.

“I’m glad you came.”

“You asked, cariño. Por supuesto que vendría por ti.”

Shrugging, you smile, shifting on your feet. “I know, but you still came, dressed as… wait—what are you dressed as?”

Putting his palms up at the side of him, he grins. His head dips, eyes following your path over his dark jeans and red shirt, as his fingers slide to his back pocket—pulling out a headband with little horns on, placing it on top of his head.

“A devil.”

“Of course,” you say, sliding your arms around his neck. “Very fitting.”

Smirking, he traces his teeth with his tongue, letting you stare at him in the same way he had been you, until you move closer, sliding your arms around his neck. Basking in the way you kiss him, so softly—almost innocently—but with a hidden agenda underneath you can’t display too much of in the centre of your workplace.

But, he still feels the tip of your tongue sweep over his bottom lip—even if to others it’s just a chaste kiss. He knows that in the back of your throat, there had been a little hum growing—the one he pulls from you when he greets you at home, when the decision to eat or “nap” first arises.

“You may be dressed like that,” he whispers, dropping his voice, mouth to your ear as he hugs you. “But I know how dirty your halo is.”

Stepping back, he watches as his words force your lips to part. You battle a smirk, toying with it, chewing it, before displaying an eye roll.

Then, Javi feels you slide your hand into his, bodies so close to being flush, your breath doing a dance over his jaw and neck.

“I think we can make it dirtier. Can’t we?”

Pausing, he tilts his head, brow arching—watching you just smirk, far more devilish than angelic.

And, Javi suddenly wishes his jeans weren’t as tight as they are.

where have you gone, one of your colleagues is eyeing me up

Well, maybe you should try being less good looking.

funny

I’ll be one second, got caught coming out the bathroom by someone from finance.

do you need rescuing

You gonna throw me over your shoulder?

if i do that i’ll be carrying you home

This is why you’re the devil and I’m the angel, my thoughts are pure.

if I put my fingers between your thighs i bet your body says otherwise

Javi!

Handing him a cup, you tap yours against his, shooting a wink.

He doesn’t miss the way you eye him—not at all in a way different to the one he’d been getting from your colleague earlier.

“¿Te estás divirtiendo?"

Sliding closer to him, you press a kiss on his cheek. Angling yourself, the front of your dress moving, shifting, forcing his eyes to drop to where some of the glitter has fallen across your collarbone and cleavage.

“Such a bad girl.”

Smirking, you take a sip. “Angels don’t just fall from heaven for anything, or anyone, Javi.”

There’s a retort brewing—readying on the tip of his tongue—but someone approaches. A snort escapes you before they call your name.

He’d met so many of the people he’s heard things about—having been able to stitch faces to names, to hear their actual voice, and not the one you adopt when you’re telling him stories about your day. But this person's name doesn’t come to him with ease, nodding, agreeing it was lovely to meet them too.

Javi listens to you wish them a good weekend, hugging them, your wings brushing against his side as you do.

Then, the two of you are alone once again.

The whole night, between speaking to people, the two of you have traded in whispered angel and devil jokes—deviousness coming to him with ease, your eyes sparkling, somewhat twinkling as you hear each of them. Sometimes, your retorts silence him, rendering him useless—forcing you to slide more in front of him, his fingers digging into your hip.

Fuck, he wants you on his lap now.

More so, as the punch thins out and the party dwindles—some excusing themselves for home, for better offers or fraternisation with other departments—and the two of you are left him to a corner.

We can go soon. If you want?

Your eyes meet his, hands stroking up and down his arm—soothing, calming, genuinely wanting him to choose.

We can go whenever you want.

The two of you standing, his hip flush with yours, the scent of your perfume doing a swirl in his nose, watching as you smirk against your cup.

It’s hard not to feel that familiar surge inside him as he watches your lips. Because he never tires of you, is never bored of just admiring and observing.

“What you thinking about, cariño?”

The look you shoot him is one of pretend innocence. He can tell. He’s become an expert in you—both in the subtle shifts in your expressions and the way your body talks to him.

“Just thinking, that if I’d thought about it more, you could have come as a pencil and I could be your crossword,” you smile. “Y’could have spent the evening filling me in then.”

He’s mid-drinking when it hits him, making him choke, and splutter.

Your smirk rises as you bring the cup to your lips. “Two can play that game, Peña.”

“Touché, baby.”

For a moment, he lets you be smug.

Let it grace across your features, teeth peering out, eyes twinkling under the unflattering fluorescent light—that you still manage to look stunning under.

“Or, I could have come as a vampire,” you continue, eyes averting, a smirk desperate to grow, “I am really good at sucking.”

He almost crunches the cup, his head tilting, eyes burning into you as his brain fills with thoughts—ones that almost ravage him. Smother over the purer ones he keeps forcing himself to manifest, innocent things he’s yanked up so he doesn’t get a hard-on in the middle of your work office party.

Because you’re dressed as a fucking angel.

“Did you want to see my desk, baby?”

“Is it far?”

Shaking your head, you drain your cup, placing the empty in a nearby trash bin as you offer your hand. Leading, guiding him, pointing out little things that offer some clarification to stories he’s listened attentively to when the two of you have eaten.

“It’s just in here,” you announce, pointing to a closed door before the two of you enter.

As soon as the door clicks shut, his palm is against the wall—caging you in, his body close. Your laugh light, airy, brushing over his face as your fingers slide up his cheeks.

The two of you are flush, but not so harshly against the wall to crush your wings. He wants them intact, needs them to be there later.

“You like my costume, baby?”

He groans, tightening his grip on your waist. The light from the hallway splays across your face—illuminating your eyes as you stare up at him. Noticing the usual flecks of lust and need that swirl whenever the two of you are like this.

“You thinking innocent thoughts, cariño?”

“Not even a little bit.”

Your fingers tangling into his hair, his hips light in their efforts to press you against the wall. The air tightening, anticipation building, and building. It all layering, more so as his fingers drop, tracing under the hem of your dress.

His lips curl, the tip of his tongue dragging across his lower lip. “I like your office.”

“Bring back memories for you?”

Snorting, he grins. “No. I didn’t… I didn’t do that.”

“You want to?”

He considers it. More so when your lips slant back across his, when you whimper lightly when the kiss deepens.

Javi traces his finger over your thigh, half-tempted to slide it further up, skate it over whatever fabric you’ve chosen to wear between your thighs.

But he stops himself, halts.

Instead, he slides his fingers back under your chin, tilting it up. “Rather take you home. To our home.”

He watches as your smile curls up, lips pursing, eyes flicking down before meeting his. “Take me home then.”

Your fingers lightly flutter along his cheek, the top of your nails scraping gently against his skin, into the hair above his ears.

“Not to be a devils advocate, but we don’t have to wait until we get home, do he?”

Smirking, he lets a soft laugh exit under his breath.

“Seven letters,” you whisper, teasing his hair in your fingers, “Highest point.”

He kisses you. Pressing his smirk against your lips, feeling yours emerge as he does.

“You’re a real fallen angel, aren’t you?”

Snorting, you slant your mouth over his, likely wanting one more before the sea of goodbyes and see you in a week have to be said.

“Fallen straight into you, though. No regrets from me,” you add.

Pressing a kiss to your lips, Javi mumbles, “Not from me either.” Hands sliding around your waist, stealing another moment. “Need you to keep the halo on.”

Tilting your head, you pull from his lips. Breaths dancing, shared between the two of you.

“Wanna see how long it takes until I can fuck it off your head, cariño.”

Grinning, your tongue sweeps over your bottom lip. The slightest of head shakes. “Think you knocked the real one off my head ages ago—when you made me moan your name down the phone.”

an: if you have any ideas of what our pairing can get up to, let me know. i can't promise I'll always write them, but you never know.