#okay tagging rusty is probably a bit much

[askthesunjackers]

A Lifetime Of Service

[barleyo]

Love Machine.

Android! Leon Kennedy X Fem! Reader (smut)

A/N: I got this idea while listening to a song with the same title. This was my first time writing for Leon, I hope it isn't too clunky or too short! I am slowly coming out of my hiatus, so my writing skills are a bit rusty, I need you all to give me a little grace for the next few posts in case they aren't great LOL. Love you all so much, thanks for your support!

Part Two: Here

Wordcount: 2.4K

Tags: sex doll/living sex robot (?), sex toys, oral (fem receiving), reader is called things like "pretty girl", p in v, creampie (but not really because he's a sex doll??), unprotected sex, fingering, nipple play

“Welcome in, can I help you find anything?”

(Y/N) gave the cashier a polite smile and shook her head as she walked past him at the check-out desk, trying to be as non-awkward as possible, especially since she was the only customer in the small store at that time of night. It was an in and out trip, she tried to convince herself of that. She needed something small, just enough to get the job done. 

Normally, she would’ve waited until the next day to run an errand like this, but days of stress had left her needy and frustrated, so when her trusty wand finally gave out on her mid-fun, she grabbed her car keys and headed out into the night. 

Her eyes scanned the wall of toys in the back of the store. Pink and purple covered the shelves, vibrating toys and dildos being her main focus. 

“Mini-vibe, bullet vibe,” she mumbled, squatting down to read the boxes on the lower shelves. “What’s even the difference–?”

She settled on a purple rabbit vibrator. Its packaging was the least indicative of its contents, and it was on the smaller side. Easy to hide. 

“Will that be all?” the cashier asked, looking over the box. 

“Yeah, that should be it.”

“You know,” he said, giving her a wide grin, “I can’t say I can suggest this one.” He held the box back out to her, waiting for her to take it. “We’ve gotten a lot of refunded purchases due to it.”

“Oh, shit, really?” (Y/N) took the box back, tucking it under her arm. “Okay, uh, I guess I should ask what the best option would be, then?”

The cashier gave a nod and waved her over, lifting the divider between behind the counter and the rest of the store. “Come with me to the back, we’ve got all the good stuff tucked away back there.”

She chewed the inside of her cheek, thinking about whether or not to follow him. She didn’t immediately catch any red flags in his behavior: he was polite enough, no major creep-vibes. (Y/N) finally walked past the open divider and followed him into the stock room. 

“So, over here,” he said, waving his hand over a heavily stocked shelf, “is all the high-powered stuff. These over here have a high-customization level, lingerie over here, and over here ....” 

The man continued to go over the ‘hidden’ options in the store, but (Y/N)’s eyes traveled over to a large, sheet-covered box. 

“Hey, what’s that over there?” she asked, pointing at the box. 

“Oh, that? That’s new, uhm, probably a little out of your comfort zone, though, he’s a little advanced.”

“He?”

The cashier sighed and stepped up to the box, gripping the corner of the sheet. “It’s—it’s a long story, but, here, have a look.”

He pulled the sheet down, dropping it to the cement floors of the room.

“What the fuck is that?!”

A blond man stood in the plain box, the only adornment on the cardboard being his name in bolded letters: Leon. His eyes were closed, his hands sat idly beside his sides, and his body stood bare before them both.

“His name is Leon, he’s a prototype for a new line of responsive sex dolls. I mean, most of the bugs are out of the system, he’s not faulty or anything.”

(Y/N) walked up to the box and scratched the cellophane covering, trying to get his attention. “Is he awake? Or on, I guess?”

“Nah, he has to be set up, there’s a manual in the box, I think,” the man replied, bending down to pick the sheet back up to throw over Leon’s box. Just as he began to shake the sheet off, clearing the residual dirt off of it, (Y/N) spoke again.

“How much for him?”

She mentally smacked herself for asking. There was no doubt he was expensive, hell, he probably wasn’t even up for sale.

“You want him?” He raised his eyebrow, looking the girl up and down, confusion painting his features.

“I– I don’t know, can I have him? How much?”

He crossed his arms for a moment, thinking. “He’s not for sale, per se, but– so, listen, okay?”

“Yeah?”

“You can have him for free, okay? But if you aren’t satisfied with him, you can’t bring him back here, you’re stuck with ‘em.” He held his hand out expectantly. “Deal?”

“Deal,” she said, taking his hand quickly, giving it a few affirming shakes.

The boxcutter in her hand worked quickly, slicing open the cellophane. (Y/N) bunched up the plastic and threw it to a random corner in her bedroom, turning back to face Leon. She gave him a testing poke, and when he didn’t respond she turned that poke into a gentle tapping on the side of his face.

“Leon?” The name felt like acid on her tongue, guilt already creeping through her. “Wake up.”

She dropped her hand from his face and guided it further down his chest. The synthetic skin felt real, almost in an uncanny way. He was warm to the touch, not plastic-y and cold like how she assumed other sex dolls felt. 

“Come on, big boy.” she muttered, pulling Leon’s large, heavy body out of the box and placing him on his feet near her bed. “Where’s your–? Oh, got it.” (Y/N) snatched the instruction manual from the box. The print was foggy, and some words were horribly misspelled, but she flipped through the pages and located the directions page. She read the page to herself quietly. “I am Leon, your AI-powered male sex doll. The setup process of a Leon doll is extremely easy. To turn me on, just set my dial. After that, just sit back and let me love you for a little while!” 

(Y/N) walked a small circle around him in search of his ‘on-switch.’ She found it right on the back of his neck, almost hidden by his swoop of blond hair. On the silver dial sat three options: Off, gentle, and rough. A hand rose and ticked the dial to gentle. She stepped away from him quickly after hitting the switch, nervous to see what would happen.

His eyes opened slowly, and a weak blue light beamed from them, scanning outwards before shutting off completely. A grin slowly spread across Leon’s all-too-real features as he powered on. 

“Hey there, pretty girl,” he said, standing still in her room, only moving his head to face her. “Looks like you could use some company.”

“Uh, hello.” Her mouth was dry as she spoke, feeling like she made a bad decision the second he had snapped to life. 

“Hm, why don’t you come closer to me? I don’t bite,” Leon paused before cheekily adding “unless you want me to.” He took her in his arms and let his eyes drift down her body. He eased her shirt over her head and tried to undo the clasps of her bra.

“What are you doing?” She tried to pull away but he held her in place.

“You have all your clothes, but I’m exposed over here. That’s not so fair, is it?” He looked down at his hardened length, ushering her to look down with him.

Her eyes widened a bit. “When did you even get hard–?”

“I’m always hard around pretty girls like you.” He slipped off her bra and groped her breasts with his large, somewhat calloused hands. “Look at these, baby. You have pretty tits, and a pretty face, huh?” 

A hum left her throat as she felt his head dip down and take one of her swollen nipples into his mouth. He swirled his tongue over the bud, latching on to properly suck it after a few teasing moments. She ran her hands through his hair and gripped onto it tightly, whining at the feeling of his mouth popping off of her tit. 

“Bet you’re getting wet from this, aren’t you?” His voice was airy and muffled while he spoke. He left open mouthed licks over her pebbled nipples, grazing over them with his tongue’s warmth.

She gave a weak nod in return.

“Mm, maybe I should take care of that,” he chuckled lightly and lowered himself to his knees. “Gonna let me take these off you?” He tugged at the waistband of her shorts.

“G’head,” (Y/N) said, feeling her thighs rub against each other impatiently. 

He pulled them down to her ankles and she stepped out of them, leaving her in just her panties. She shuddered at the feeling of his tongue darting across the cotton covering her wet center. Again, Leon laughed a bit at her reaction and licked a heavier stripe against the fabric. When he was rewarded with a gasp from her open mouth, he pulled the panties to the side and pressed his tongue at her slit.

“F–Fuck, that feels good,” she whined, hand still messily buried in his hair. 

Leon kept his eyes on her the whole time, not letting a moment pass where his blue irises weren’t piercing hers. 

His tongue dipped out of her entrance and moved up to her clit. He fidgeted with it, trying to see which motion worked best on her, and settled on a circular movement. The longer he sat slotted between her thighs, her knees thrown over his shoulders, the more frequently he felt her cunt jump from pleasure. He placed his tongue hard on her clit, giving it rough, pressured licks. 

“Almost there, I’m close,” (Y/N) said, feeling a coil form in her stomach. She had felt this with other toys, but by far, Leon was the best at the job. “Don’t stop,” she hummed, voice catching in her throat while he moved his head side to side, dragging his mouth sloppily over her cunt.

A string of profanities escaped her mouth when she felt her orgasm hit. A sputtering wave of warmth flushed through her body, her pussy clenching around nothing. 

“That’s it, good job,” Leon cooed. He held his hand up to her face expectantly. “Spit.”

Her mind already felt melted, like it could’ve oozed out of her brain at any minute. She mindlessly complied with him, spitting onto his lengthy fingers.

“Ah–! S’too much, Leon.”

“No, no, you can take it. I’ll be gentle, I know you want another one,” he said with a slightly mocking tone. “Greedy girl needs something to fill her up.” Plunging his fingers into her pussy, he groaned at the feeling of her slick walls still fluttering. “Y’haven’t even recovered from the first one, but I’m gonna give you another one,” he said, curling his fingers, “gonna be twice as strong.”

“Fuck, it’s too much,” (Y/N) knew her sobs of pleasure were pathetic sounding, but she couldn’t muster anything else up as she tried to push his wrist down and away, not being able to stand the feeling of his two fingers prodding at her most sensitive spot. 

“Don’t fight it,” he warned, “not when you’re so close. Yeah, I feel you getting all tight on me. Mm, you’re gonna love how it feels, it only gets better from here, pretty girl.” 

Leon became more aggressive with his movement, moving his whole arm as his fingers jammed in and out of her. (Y/N) was lost in her ecstasy. Her hands shook and flew aimlessly before taking purchase of Leon’s shoulders and holding onto them, nails digging into the skin.

Her second release, as promised, was much stronger. Her legs clamped around him, her moans came out in long, shaky intervals, and her brain was mush. She couldn’t force herself to focus on anything but the cum dripping out of her cunt and down Leon’s fingers and forearm. She screwed her eyes shut, feeling even the dim light of her bedroom to be too much for her now fucked-out, slutty head to handle. 

She hardly noticed when he had placed on her back in the bed with her legs spread. Not until he guided his cock across her folds, tapping the head of it against her swollen, abused clit. 

“More?” she asked, voice breaking and weak. “Can’t take it ‘nymore.”

“C’mon, sweet thing, you can give me one more, can’t you? Just one more?” He whispered into her ear, slowly pushing into her, holding himself back. 

“Jus’ one? No more after that?”

“Mhm, just one.” Leon bottomed out and stretched her walls with his girth. The tip of his cock gave sweet, shallow kisses to her cervix’s tip, gently pressing into it with each thrust. His hips rocked into her, but he felt his dick being forced out of her walls, pushed out of her heat. “Even after all that, still tight f’me.” He slid back in, rougher this time, trying to keep himself inside. “Need somethin’ to stretch you out, baby. Good thing y’got me now.”

His hands were placed under her knees, scooping and holding them apart while he fucked her. He slowly transitioned from fucking and burrying his cock into her, to bringing her body forward, bouncing her on his cock. 

“Leon—”

“Hush, now, you’re okay. Mm,” he wiped the drool from the corner of her mouth, “look at how you take it. It’s like you were made to be used like this, sweet girl. Maybe you’d be better off as a toy.” 

She moaned at this, feeling her cunt twitch at his words.

“Yeah? You like that?” Leon’s eyebrow raised at her a bit, teeth barring in smirk. “You like being a little toy. Being– oh, fuck, you’re enjoying this so much. Your pretty little face...”

(Y/N) threw her arms over his neck, pulling him closer to her body. Their chests pressed together, her sweat slick between them both. “God, Leon, please!”

Leon pressed his mouth on her to quiet her down, swallowing her moans as their tongues and teeth gnashed against each other. He winced as (Y/N) bit down on his lip, choking back her sobs when she clamped down on his cock. Taking this as a sign, Leon emptied his thick, synthetic cum into her. 

Once he pulled out, a mixture of both of their cum pumped out, gushing and wetting in between her thighs.

“Good job, baby,” he said, stroking her face, grinning at the warmth of her cheek. “You did so well, getting all cockdrunk for me. To think I was being gentle. Wanna try my rough mode out for size?” He joked, letting his hand grip her hip. 

“Goodnight, Leon,” she responded, unimpressed at his teasing and tired from what he had done to her. She brought her hand to the back of his neck and turned his dial to ‘off.'

[suzukiblu]

NaNoWriMo fic, day one: obligatory sugar daddy Tim/sugar baby Kon AU.

Tim Drake had absolutely no intentions of ever becoming anyone's sugar daddy when he met Superboy.

This would have worked out better for him if Superboy had ever had an actual legal identity or an actual legal guardian or just . . . literally anything whatsoever in life. Ever. At all.

Just a bank account, even.

"You're working for Cadmus," Tim says slowly. "Cadmus, as in the lab that stole Superman's body and cloned him without his consent. Cadmus, which you had to break out of so they couldn't put mind control code words in your head."

"Yeah," Superboy replies like that's not literally insane. Tim stares at him.

"Why?" he asks incredulously.

"Food and shelter?" Superboy shrugs. "And I mean, I dunno, where else am I gonna go?"

Tim is not okay with this situation.

"What did Superman say?" he says.

"Just to like, keep an eye on things," Superboy says with another shrug. "Make sure they're not up to anything shifty."

Tim stares at him.

"Superman," he says. "Told you to just . . . 'keep an eye on' the dubiously ethical cloning lab. The specific dubiously ethical cloning lab that tried to put mind control code words in your head. Specifically."

"Yeah," Superboy confirms.

Alright, Tim is actually even less okay with this situation than he thought, apparently. Like, impressively less.

"Okay," he says. It is absolutely no kind of okay in any way whatsoever, of course, but he doesn't want to put Superboy on the defensive. That'd make effectively interrogating him a lot harder, for one thing. Cooperative subjects are best in these situations. "What are they paying you?"

"I mean, like, they gave me my own room and they're feeding me and whatever, so I don't really need much money," Superboy says. "There's a discretionary fund I can use if I need to go on an undercover mission or anything like that? But I'm not really the undercover type anyway."

"Sure," Tim says. So . . . no way for Superboy to save up to move out and get an out-of-lab life, then. Great. That's not fucked-up or crazy or horrible at all. "Do you like it there?"

"It's okay," Superboy says, shrugging again. "Better than literally everybody in Hawaii yelling at me every time they see my face, yeah?"

Tim wants to set the world on fire, but he's trying really hard not to go supervillain before he's thirty and he'd hate to throw out all that hard work.

"They just let me do whatever, mostly," Superboy adds. "They don't really care as long as I'm around when they need me."

He'll go supervillain as soon as Bruce dies, Tim promises himself. Just–he'll give his share of the eulogy at the funeral and then he'll blow up three-fourths of Arkham and the entire GCPD while Commissioner Gordon is on his lunch break. He can time that out, that'll be easy. And then he'll go and personally murder the Joker with the very specific combination of a rusty crowbar and a shrapnel bomb, and then he'll just . . . well, he'll just go with the flow from there, he figures. Do whatever feels natural.

Seriously, the world as it is does not deserve to exist. It really just does not.

Tim figures he can probably convince the rest of Young Justice to tag along for the whole supervillain thing and hopefully Dick and Steph and Barbara too, and ideally also Alfred, in the unfortunately likely event that he outlives Bruce. He's got time to lay the groundwork with them all and all, and also everything really is awful and horrible and really does deserve to burn.

"Are they sending you to school or anything? Or tutoring you?" Tim asks with what little scraps of hope he has left. Higher education would be . . . well, something, at least. And actually it probably wouldn't hurt for Superboy to learn a bit more about genetic engineering from the same place he got genetically engineered, just in case anything goes wrong with his DNA again. Cadmus should at least be good for that much, right?

"Ew, no, thank fuck," Superboy says, making a face. "Like I said, they mostly let me do whatever until something needs punched."

So . . . no furthered education or learning any usable job skills or making real money or literally anything that could, again, lead to Superboy ever getting any kind of an actual out-of-lab life established.

Great.

Just great.

"I see," Tim says.

"It's a pretty sweet gig, considering," Superboy says, and grins brightly at him. It's a very nice grin. Normally being faced with that particular grin would make Tim need to beat down the highly unprofessional urge to kiss it.

Right now, though, he's a little bit more concerned with the fact that his teammate is just . . . living in and working for a fucking lab. As a matter of course. Just as a thing.

And Superman of all people thinks that's . . . fine, for some reason? Like, normal and ethical and okay? Somehow? In some way?

What the actual fuck, Tim thinks to himself.

"You said Superman told you to keep an eye on things?" he asks.

"Yeah," Superboy says, his grin widening. "He took me to his fortress and asked me to do it there. Showed me around a bit, too."

"That sounds really interesting," Tim says, wondering in vague disbelief if that means Superman had never taken Superboy to the Fortress of Solitude before. He must've, right? And just . . . inexplicably not shown Superboy around then.

Yeah. Sure.

"It was awesome!" Superboy says with more enthusiasm than Tim's seen from him since they met Nina Dowd's . . . endowments, seemingly forgetting the need to be "cool" for long enough to lean forward in his seat and outright beam at him. Tim is gonna need a minute to recover from the sight of that expression, probably. "It's seriously freaking freezing up there, but there's so much cool shit in the place. Like, from all over the universe, but from Krypton, even! The only thing I'd ever seen from Krypton before was kryptonite!"

Tim considers moving up his supervillain timeline after all. Like. Just possibly. Just a little.

Maybe he can convince Bruce to take an early retirement off-planet and just go from there.

What the hell is wrong with Superman?

"Oh, wow, really?" Tim says, simultaneously pretending he didn't already know what Superman has in his fortress and trying not to be screamingly obvious about the internal calculations he's running on figuring out how to weaponize red sunlight. Or like, maybe he could look into learning some magic. That's technically an option. Probably more time-consuming and harder to hide the process of, though. Still, it's on the table.

"Yeah. He showed me some of it. Told me some stories and stuff, even," Superboy says, and that excited grin turns just a little bit shy and soft and somehow even more distracting than usual. He ducks his head just a little, and then that soft grin is more like a soft smile, and Tim suffers. "And I, uh–and he gave me something, too."

"What did he give you?" Tim asks, praying to God that the answer is "an emergency contact number" or "an allowance that can cover a semi-decent Metropolis apartment" or "an offer to live literally anywhere but Cadmus, including in the thirtieth century or on a hostile alien planet or inside an active volcano". He's technically an atheist, so the praying thing is probably moot, but times of desperation are times of desperation.

"A name," Superboy says, and his smile widens helplessly. "Like, you know, a real one."

Tim might hate Superman, he thinks. That might actually be a thing now.

Yeah, he's definitely going supervillain after Bruce dies and doesn't need an emotional support sidekick anymore. Better start stocking up on the kryptonite.

"That's great," he says with a very carefully not-forced smile of his own instead of anything more along the lines of "wait, you've been alive and active as a superhero for all this time and no one ever actually named you?!" Superboy would probably take it the wrong way, not in the least because that genuinely never actually occurred to him as being a thing before. Like–he really did just assume Superboy was keeping a lid on whatever his real name was for personal reasons or Superman reasons or something. "Are you allowed to tell me it, or is that a no-go?"

"Oh, yeah," Superboy says with a sheepish laugh, rubbing at his arm. "It's like, a Kryptonian name? Not like a secret identity one. It's, uh, Kon-El."

Of course it's not even a damn secret identity, Tim thinks in absolute frustration and abject loathing. Of course not! Why would it be?! Fuck forbid!

"I like it," he says, because he lies to Batman and therefore there is no fucking way that he's going to let Superboy–Kon–see any sign whatsoever of the metaphorical 9.9 on the Richter scale that is currently happening in his psyche. "It suits you."

"You think?" Kon grins all the wider. Tim can't even calm down enough to want to kiss him, except in the sense that he always wants to kiss him.

"I do," he says, and smiles at him again.

Kon smiles back.

Tim hates everything. All the things. There is nothing that Tim doesn't hate right now, except maybe Alfred's snickerdoodles because he might be having a nervous breakdown but he's not, like, criminally insane or whatever.

Yet.

"Yeah, it's kinda cool," Kon says, straightening up in his seat and then leaning back, clearing his throat and slipping his sunglasses back on like they're not in a literal cave right now. Tim doesn't call him on it, because he has a supervillain timeline to work out and that's much more important.

Also because the teammate he has an inadvisable crush on is in a much, much shittier situation than he ever realized and he has to reconcile that with his worldview and also his opinion of Superman. Tim doesn't especially idolize the man except in the sense of knowing he's one of the greatest heroes on Earth and a very, very good man that Bruce thinks incredibly highly of, one of the best men on the League and maybe even on the planet, but . . .

But if he's such a good man, then why the hell is Kon living in a lab that tried to mind-control him and why has he only just seen the Fortress of Solitude for the first time?

Why didn't he have a real name?

"So do we call you Kon or Kon-El now?" Tim asks, which is a bit of a senseless question but also at least a bit of a distraction. He wants to say this whole situation is a horrible idea, who the FUCK convinced you this situation was a good idea?!, but there is no possible way that Kon would respond well to that. Ever.

Also, Kon had a point. Where else is he gonna go?

Clearly not the Fortress of Solitude.

Seriously, would it be that hard for Superman to give him a room there? At least a place to stay sometimes, so he wasn't exclusively relying on the mind-control cloning lab for food and shelter and basic comforts?

"I think just Kon?" Kon says, frowning consideringly. "'El' is like Superman's last name, I guess? So I think just Kon."

"Makes sense," Tim says, internally seething. Superman gave him the "El" name but not a secret identity? A name from a dead civilization with a bit of sentimental value, maybe, but nothing usable on this planet? Fuck, you'd think Kon didn't already know his secre–

. . . Kon doesn't know Superman's secret identity, does he.

Tim had thought he was lying, when he'd said that stuff about Superman not having one, before. Thought it was supposed to be a cover or a misdirection or something. But Kon actually thinks that, doesn't he. And Superman has just . . . kept letting him think that.

Becoming a supervillain actually might be an underreaction, in retrospect.

"Just Kon sounds less formal anyway," Tim says instead of so just in theory, do you think tactile telekinesis could trigger a heart attack or stroke in a full-blooded Kryptonian, if you could REALLY concentrate on doing it? like not FATALLY, just dehabilitatingly?, because he still has some groundwork to do before they get that far into potential supervillainy. There's steps to the plan. The steps need to be followed. They're very important steps. "You don't want Bart full-naming you every time he's looking for the remote."

"Like he'd even bother, it's faster for him to turn the living room upside-down than actually ask anyway," Kon says with a laugh, dropping his head back on his neck. Tim has some thoughts about climbing into his lap and figuring out if the TTK makes him hickey-proof, and then buries them. Not appropriate. Not professional. Just not.

. . . technically, if Kon wanted a hickey, he could just let his TTK down and ask for–

Tim buries his thoughts deeper.

Much, much deeper.

"Point," he says. "So what time does Cadmus expect you back?"

"Dude, it's a job, not a boarding school," Kon says, giving him an amused look. "I don't have a curfew."

Tim, technically, hasn't followed his own curfew any way but accidentally once in his entire life, but for god's sake, is Cadmus even pretending to be raising a teenager or are they really just being that flagrant about ignoring all the child labor laws they so clearly do not give a fuck about? Like, there must be something illegal about this. There has to be.

If there's not, Tim will be adding "burn down Project Cadmus" to his list of supervillain plans to set up in advance. In red pen. Underlined.

Twice.

God, why is the world like this. Why are people like this?

"I guess that'd be convenient," Tim says, internally ranking various methods of combustion. "Though I guess it depends on the cafeteria hours, too."

"It's whatever, I can always eat later," Kon replies with a shrug. "I think I've still got a couple protein bars in my room anyway."

"Just protein bars?" Tim asks, mentally upping the amount of explosives he was considering going with. Cadmus is going to be a crater by the time he's done with it. "Don't you need more calories than that?"

". . . well, sort of," Kon says, folding his arms and looking very briefly embarrassed. "Superman doesn't have to eat, apparently, but, uh, guess I'm not Kryptonian enough for that. Actually I kinda need to eat more than normal humans, it's weird. Like. A lot more."

"I'm ordering pizza," Tim says, upping his mental explosives count again. "What do you want on it?"

"We're the only ones here," Kon says, looking puzzled.

"More pizza for us, then," Tim says.

[lincolndjarin]

my way.

pairing : oberyn martell x f!reader

summary : being the prince of dorne can often be a rather stressful job, it's hard to give, and give, and give. sometimes you just need to be on the receiving end for a little while.

warnings, tags, etc : five seconds of plot to build up to a whole lot of porn, pegging (obvi), medieval strap on, glass toys, fingering, oberyn sucks the strap, allusions to other partners, referring to a dildo as a cock, multiple orgasms, overstimulation if you squint, premature ejaculation?? idk he cums fast bc i'm a sucker for that, cum play, reader has brief penis envy idk if that's the term but yeah, spit as lube bc its the olden days or whatever, anal sex, soft & loving sex, sort of a gentle dom vibe from reader, they're married <3 <3 <3, aftercare, i didn't really edit this as much as i should have (i'm sleepy) so apologies in advance

a/n : hello lovelies !!!! i am back from my little break with a little middle aged man pegging!! check out @wannab-urs who put together this entire project for a full masterlist of everyones works soon <3 apologies if i'm a little rusty i'm still getting back into my writing groove :3

dividers by @saradika-graphics

Everything always has to be his way. 

If you didn’t love him so much it would probably irritate you more. And when it does bother you he always does his best to fix it but it doesn’t make it any less frustrating. Your sweet prince has always done right by you but he’s never done it your way, and when things don’t go exactly as he wants them to he becomes a real pain. 

You know it isn’t entirely his fault of course. The combination of never being told no and having to make decisions that affect the people of Dorne in real time, often leaves him stressed beyond comprehension. 

Today it seems to be particularly bad as he paces around your shared chambers. You had spent your day reading and baking bread, everything had been perfectly fine until he burst through the door, rambling about a funding dispute he’s been having with his brother for weeks now. You can tell by the glint in his eye that things clearly aren’t going his way, before you get a chance to comfort him he snaps at you. 

“Stop looking at me like that.” It’s a small critique, you have been staring at him waiting for this sort of thing, so you take control of the situation rather quickly. 

“Let me give you a chance to apologize before this becomes a fight.” You cross your arms in front of your chest. He immediately picks up on the annoyance in your voice as his features soften from anger to shame. 

“I’m sorry.” He really means it as he bows his head a bit. “It’s just- It’s been a difficult day.” He makes his way over to you, taking one of your hands, kissing your knuckles. “I’m sorry, my stars.”

“I know, my moon, it’s okay.” You move the hand he holds to his lips, cradling his face briefly as he smiles, to your dismay it doesn’t reach his eyes. He’s still tense. 

“I think I’d go mad if I didn’t get to come home to you each day.” You don’t doubt that. 

“Why don’t you let me help you out a little?” You wrap your arms around him, letting your fingers tangle in the hair at the base of his neck. “Let me take care of you.” You barely speak above a whisper now as his body starts to relax in response to your touch. He walks you towards the bed until the backs of your knees hit the mattress, just as expected he immediately takes control of the situation, barely letting you get another word in as his hands slide down your waist like they’ve done countless times before except this time you catch his wrists before he can get that far. “Can you lay down for me?” The moment you ask the question he raises an eyebrow before complying, moving to sit with his back against the headboard as you go to your nightstand. 

You’ve used the toy a few times before with your other partners but as far as you know Oberyn’s never even seen it. You haven’t made any effort to hide it from him but he’s always so quick to act when it’s just the two of you, he never gives you much of a chance to do anything but take what he gives. No wonder he’s so stressed, he’s never taken a moment to just receive. 

The moment you crawl up the bed to him he’s already back on you. All teeth and hands as he pulls you against him, you have to force yourself to pull away from him though it pains you greatly. 

“Not yet- I want to try something new.” You don’t give him a chance to question as you reach across him to your nightstand. You just had a new toy made, hand blown glass, for this sort of occasion, as you toss it down next to him his eyes squint in confusion before going wide. 

“Where did you get that, my love?” His words drawl a bit, his Dornish accent hangs heavy in the air as you lift your dress over your head, tossing it aside, sitting before him completely bare as you slip into the leather straps, cinching the buckles carefully before taking the toy and holding it in one hand languidly. 

“A glass smith nearby has been more than willing to experiment with his craft for me. Is this something you’re interested in trying?” You can already tell what his answer is going to be based on his expression but you still want to hear him say it. 

“Of course, I’d try anything for you.” He purrs softly as you push him back into the pillows. You lay him back, an action he’s done to you countless times before, tugging at the cords of his robe. Between the two of you, eager to get him undressed, it only takes a moment before the fabric hits the floor. Once he’s as bare as you are you’re able to see just how much the idea thrills him as his red tipped cock slaps against his stomach. 

“Do you think you can relinquish control for just a little while, my prince?” You rake your nails against his chest lightly as he nods. “Good. I don’t want you to worry about a thing, put all your focus on taking what I give you, do you understand?” You stop your hands movement downwards right as you reach the patch of hair on his lower stomach. 

“Absolutely.” He flashes you a toothy grin and you can’t help but respond with one of your own. 

“You will do as I say then. And if I ask something of you that you do not like then you will say stop, is that clear?” You want so badly to take his cock into your hands or mouth but you’re trying to be patient as you pull your hand back. This is for his sake, not yours. 

“Perfectly clear.” His hips twitch upwards a bit, almost taunting your resolve as you press him back down into the mattress. 

“Lovely,” You hum, stroking the glass toy between your fingers before bringing it to his mouth, tapping his lips. “Open.” He complies quickly, parting his lips as you slide the tip of the toy in, reveling in his moans. He looks so… right, like this. Eyes wide and eager as his tongue laps at the cool glass, tracing the ridges, legs spread, and cock twitching in excitement. You can’t help but wonder why you didn’t do this sooner. 

You push the fake cock just a little further past his lips before letting him take hold of it, turning to other matters. 

“Warm that up please, you wouldn’t want it to be cold when I fill you up.” As you murmur those words he groans against the glass. 

Unceremoniously you spit into your hand, giddy with excitement as you nudge his legs a bit further apart. You spread the plush flesh of his ass to notch your digits at his hole, gently pushing just the tip of your pointer finger in, feeling him tighten around you with a gasp. 

“Relax, my love.” You coo, waiting until his muscles release a bit before pushing onward. This isn’t your first time doing this sort of thing of course but it is the first time he’s going to be taking something other than your fingers or tongue, so you work him open slowly. Watching the stress unravel from his body as you work in a second finger, curling and scissoring them as his back arches, cock bobbing against his stomach as his fingers grip the sheets around him. 

When he’s able to take three of your fingers you pull the toy from his mouth with a soft pop, the toy slick with spit and properly warmed easily slips into the designated slot on your harness. He watches with a palpable anticipation as you get yourself situated. When you’re ready you’re kneeling between his legs, glass cock standing proudly against your pelvis. 

“Ready?” You ask as you gently lift his legs, bringing his knees to his chest as he nods, damn near whimpering. 

You push into him, slowly, as you gauge his reaction. Usually he’s all grunts and grumbles during sex but now he’s gasps and whines. His hands clutch the pillows surrounding his head as he tries to push himself further onto the toy but the position you’ve got him in keeps him in place. 

“You want more?” There’s a mocking lilt to your voice as he nods rapidly.

“Yes- please.” He purses his lips as he whimpers and you’re more than happy to oblige, watching the sight before you as his hole swallows your cock, his own dick leaking against his stomach, begging for a release. You adjust your hips a bit, watching his back attempt to arch as you do so. “Th-there.” His voice is strained as you hit that sweet spot inside of him. Ever so gently you pull out before rocking yourself back against it. 

“There? Is that what you want?” You continue to speak in a teasing tone but you truly want to know, this is all for his sake, you want so badly to make him feel good. His cheeks are flushed, warm skin slick with sweat as he continues to nod. You repeat the motion a few more times, caught off guard when he lets out a low whine and you watch as his cock pulses, untouched, as he paints his torso. His breath catches in his throat as he does so. “Oh my, look at the mess you’ve made, and so quickly.” You drag a finger over his heaving chest, scooping up some of his spend to taste, letting the bitter sweetness coat your tongue. “You were more pent up than I thought, my love. I think you still have some stress that needs releasing.” 

“I-I’m sorry.” He stammers, looking a bit embarrassed but you immediately shake your head, leaning forward to kiss his forehead while simultaneously sinking back into him.

“Don’t apologize for feeling good, sunshine. That’s what this is all for.” You bump your nose against his, hoping to reassure him. “Do you think you could give me one more, I just want to make sure I get all the stress out.” You emphasize your words with a small push of his legs tighter against his chest, earning a soft mewl from him. 

“I can do one more.” 

“Wonderful.” You kiss his cheek before picking up the same pace you were at just moments ago. Happily watching his cock jump back to life. You take the opportunity to drag your fingers through the cum cooling on his abdomen, drawing little shapes as he begins to reach that same peak rapidly all over again. You adore the sight of your glass cock sliding in and out of him. He takes you so well, his hole fluttering as he lets you fuck him. You wish you had a real cock just so you could feel him tighten around you but this will have to do. His neglected dick continues to rest against his happy trail, desperate to be touched. This time you help him out, wrapping your hand around his cock, with a few quick pumps he’s coating his stomach in cum all over again.

It’s positively euphoric to see the prince of Dorne like this. 

Just for you. Spread before you without a care in the world, stuffed full of your cock and happy as can be.

You give him a moment to catch his breath before pulling out, peppering his cheeks with kisses before slipping out of the harness and leaving to get him some water as well as something to wipe him up with. 

You gently wipe him down with a warm washcloth, cleaning him while continuing to kiss his face as he yawns. 

“Thank you.” He mumbles, taking your face in his hands, pulling you forward for another kiss. 

“Anytime, we take care of each other, I’m just glad you’re feeling better.” You climb under the blankets with him, tangling your limbs with his as he rests his face in the crook of your neck, clearly exhausted as he falls asleep against you. You feel your own exhaustion hit, smiling to yourself as you close your eyes. You couldn’t be happier that he let you try things your way.

[we-out-here-simping]

Wasting Time.

(s.h. x gn!reader)

summary: given everything happening in Hawkins, Steve ends up pushing you away too far.

word count: 6k+

warnings/tags: no pronouns used (gender neutral reader); no y/n used; sad; i dont plan on writing a part two to this; s4 stuff; insecure reader; death; loss; injuries; mention of steve's parents; ollie is the real mvp in this tbh; unresolved? yay;

a/n: based off of Lizzy McAlpine’s song, “..what are we?” This was meant to be below 2k. I fought it to keep it below 2k. I lost, immensely and pathetically so. but that's okay.

as for my other stuff, I truly don't know when I'll post it. I've got pretty important things I have going on in life and i really need to do well in a life altering test next year so everything else is on the back burner rn. sorry to those who are really looking forward the next parts but don't u worry I will post them ;)

my masterlist

You shouldn't be at the store alone. 

Considering the recent murders in Hawkins. You really, truly shouldn't be alone. 

It isn't like you wanted to be. But the owner of the store you worked at did not necessarily give two shits about you. Refusing to pay you if you didn't show up for a few days. So, it isn't like you had much of a choice.

You sat on the rickety old swivel chair, that your asshole boss wouldn't change. The news was playing non-stop in the background– never in your entire life have you had the news channel on for so long.

The new chief of police was being interviewed by the reporters, telling the viewers to stay calm and assuring that they had it all under control. It didn't help to ease your mind. 

You were not calm. Not one bit.

With each movement you made, the rusty metal of the chair groaned underneath you. 

You were thinking of calling him again.

You rotated a little. The chair screeched again. 

Why hadn't he even bothered to call you back yet?

Your leg bounced. The metal creaked.

Frustrated, you abandon the stupid chair with a pathetic scoff. Opting to just sit on the counter, facing away from the door. You gripped the edge of the surface, teeth gnawing at your lips as you looked at his jacket draped atop the chair you were occupying just seconds ago. His jacket.

What if he didn't want you to call him? Your grip tightened. 

You haven't heard from your boyfriend since thursday. 

You both had planned to go out on friday— the boy hadn't exactly told you where he had planned for you two to go. He had instead told you to, “Wear something cute like you always do. Bring Ollie with you if y’wanna and I'll pick you up from yours at 5?”

You had bought a new outfit, a couple weeks prior. you had put all your last month's salary into it. Your favourite colour.

You did your hair, a little bit of your face as well. Looking in the mirror, you had looked….. nice.

Something about that realisation had conjured up a lump in your throat. It was rare that you considered yourself good looking. Which is probably why you barely ever dressed up. But at that moment, as you looked in the mirror, a smile grew on your face, one that couldn't be contained. 

You couldn't wait for Steve to see you. 

You were ready before the clock even hit 4:35.

You waited. No sign of him. 

When the clock hit 5:15, you went out onto your driveway, your dog, Ollie following behind you. You waited, pacing the concrete.

6:05, you were sitting on the stairs infront of the door, your dog's head on your lap. You waited.

6:45, your shoulders were slumped, your own head rested on your knees. Ollie napping beside you. You waited.

7:27, it was dark, Ollie whined to go back in. your eyes stung a little. But you scratched him behind his ears and decided to wait out just a little more. 

When the clock hit 8:00, you finally got up, dusting the dirt and dust off your brand new clothes. Blinking back the salty tears, you quietly went back to your room after giving your dog his food and water. You changed into your ugly PJs, not bothering with anything else, as you buried yourself in your blankets. 

Soon, you heard scratching on your bedroom door, your dog waiting to be let in. 

You smiled with a sniffle, letting him jump onto the mattress with you despite your mom’s strict rule to not let the dog onto beds, sofas or carpets. the dog whined a little before laying next to you. 

Ollie loved Steve. They had not exactly started on the right foot when Ollie almost bit the boy when you had tried sneaking him in one night. But after some time, they both warmed up to each other– to the point where it became common for Ollie to tag along with you and Steve on dates. 

“I'm sorry bud”, you stroked the fur on his head, "i know how much you like hanging out with him." He whined again, warm tongue licking your fingers. 

You knew he didn't really understand, a dog couldn't understand insecurities and the utter disdain of being stood up by someone you loved. Yet here he was, sharing your sorrows and wordlessly warming up your blues. Not there because he empathised with you or pitied you but there because he loved you.

The next morning when you woke up, you went immediately to your bathroom, to try and clean the mess that you hadn't the previous night. 

Your eyes were red and puffy. You did look like someone who cried themself to sleep. You tried to scrub it all off, not even bothering with being gentle with your poor skin.

You didn't feel pretty when you looked in the mirror now. You felt pathetic. 

“Honey!” your mom shouted from the kitchen, downstairs.

“Yeah, coming”, you shouted back as loudly as you could– which wasn't very loud at all.

As you climbed down, you were met with Ollie, tail wagging, nails clicking against the floor. 

“Would just not take the breakfast from me”, your brother commented, handing you the dog bowl that was filled with Ollie’s food, “What a dramatic son of a bitch.... literally”

The dramatic son of a bitch in question, looked up at the two of you with big round eyes, tongue out, drool spilling out on the floor. You held up a finger, the dog immediately sat down– wagging tail sweeping the floor behind him. You finally put the bowl down and told the dog to dig in.

“Did you make him sleep in the bed again?” your mother spoke from behind her magazine.

“Why would I do that?” you lied as you refilled his water bowl.

“Because when I came to call you for dinner last night, he was sleeping on your bed, with you.”

“Oh”, a sheepish expression over your face, “I'll clean the bedsheets, okay?” 

“and why did you skip dinner–”

Your mother thankfully got interrupted by the loud sound of the front door opening, followed by quick footsteps. “Did you check the news?”, your dad panted, he moved towards the tv in the living room, not bothering to take off his running shoes. 

“No, dad. It's only you who is boring enough to watch the news”, your brother’s joke landed flat.

“What happened?”, your mother asked, brows furrowed. 

“A Hawkins student was found dead.”

The bell above the door rang, you turned to look at the customer and you felt as if your heart had hit a rib.

There was Steve Harrington, bursting in through the doors, wearing clothes you'd never seen him in before.

He wasn't alone. The boy was accompanied by Dustin Henderson, Max Mayfield, Lucas and Erica Sinclair, Robin Buckley, and Nancy Wheeler. Most of them looked to be covered in dust, grime and worse.

They, without looking in your direction, broke into groups of two, one led by the older girls and the other by Steve, moving frantically through the aisles to get what they needed. It must have been an emergency. Considering all the recent happenings, it might be. 

After a few minutes, the group led by Nancy and Robin stood infront of the counter and you started billing everything. A couple minutes later, the group led by Steve joined them as well. It is when they are pouring the stuff onto the counter when Steve finally notices that it's you. 

His movements stuttered a little as if he'd just remembered that you worked here and he opened his mouth to say something but closed it before anything could come out.

The silence was awkward and deafening– the others definitely noticed. The only sound that came was the beeps of the scanner. You wondered if Steve had told them about the both of you. 

When you moved to put everything in a bag, Steve stepped a little closer to help with putting all the stuff into the grocery bags, it is then that you noticed the boy's skin.

The skin which you knew to be soft to the touch was covered in dirt. Slashes and cuts wound around his neck, a piece of dirty cloth peeking from under the hem of his camo shirt. Blood. 

You didn't realise you were frozen stuck until you heard him clearing his throat. 

You realised that that the boy had already paid the total, the crumbled up cash placed on the counter. The rustling of the grocery bags alerted you that were moving to leave.

“S– Steve?” your voice came out an unsure whisper.

They all stopped. He looked over his shoulder, then back to his friends, “You guys go on”, he said to them, handing the two bags he was holding to Lucas and Dustin, “ I'll be out in a minute” They silently nodded before leaving to get into a van.

You spoke up when the bell above the door rang on the door closing, “Wh– what is happening?” 

He stood across from you, on the other side of the counter, not making any efforts to come closer as he normally would– maybe hoping that you wouldn't see the wounds that you had already seen. “Nothing”, he cleared his hoarse throat,  “I'm– I'm sorry for friday–”

Sorry? Is that all you get?

“You're covered in blood and dirt”, you pointed out.

“Trust me it just looks worse than it actually is”, he let out a dry chuckle.

“Whose van is that?” your vision flickered to the winnebago parked infront of the store.

“A friend’s.”

“Which one?”

“Munson.”

“Munson? Like Eddie munson? Have you heard the news?--”

“Yeah I have”, his words came out quick, “and it isn't him.”

“How are you so sure?” your eyebrows drew together.

“I just.. “, he paused, “I just am.”

“And how did you get those? '', you said, nodding to his wounded neck. You wanted to touch him, to hold him, but there was still a counter between the two of you, and closing that distance felt.. wrong like you weren't supposed to do it.

“I got in a fight.”

“With what, a barbed wire?” it came out snappier than you had intended. You really tried to not hold his face in your palm.

“No”, his tone grew more frustrated with every question you asked.

“Then who?”

“No, why do you–”

“Cuz I'm– I'm worried about you Steve.” you interrupted to continue your rambling, “You could get like– tetanus or shit–”

“Hey, hey”, for a second you thought he was going to hold your face like you wanted to do to him, instead he placed his palm on your shoulder, “I’m fine, okay? I don't want you to be worried about me.”

“How the hell am I supposed to do that?” you whispered. “I just want you to tell me what's happening.” his hands fell back to his sides. “Just let me in”

“Nothings–”

“No! Something is happening”, you interjected, angry, worried, “Okay? I know. I know you don't always tell me everything. And that's fine, y'know– I thought you’d tell me when you felt like telling me but don't–” you take a quick breath, slowing down your quick words,  “Don't– do you not trust me enough to tell me?”

“I do. But there isn't anything to tell you”, he tried his best to shrug while trying not to pull on the scabbing of his bloody torso– he held back a wince, “Nothings happening.”

There’s a beat.

You can tell he’s lying.

“Why didn't you show up on friday then?” you barely give him a couple seconds to answer before continuing, “God, when I heard someone had died that night, I– “ you stopped before he could hear the quiver of your voice, you gulped. “I called you fifteen times”

“I was at work”

“I went there the next morning to check– it was only Keith there. Told me you'd left already." He opened his mouth before closing it up again.

“Why are you lying to me?”

“And what is Nancy doing with you–” you hated that you were jealous, you never wanted to be that person. Hell, you and Nancy were almost friends in high school. But you couldn't lie and say that it didn't hurt to see them together right after he had bailed on you.

“Well if you noticed, it isn't just me and her, y’know. No need to be jealous–”

“Yeah, I will be jealous, okay? I will be jealous if you start hanging out with your ex and start ditching our dates–”

“I didn't ditch you–”

“I waited for three hours steve. You didn't even call me after or give me heads up. And you already know about everything that's happening in town, so I'm sorry I was worried shitless and you didn't even pick up my calls. And now you're with all these people– which is fine– they’re your friends but your ex is a part of these people. And you're bleeding and definitely wounded, and you won't tell me anything.”

“I will tell you okay, I just–”

“So, not now?”

“I'm running a little late–”

“To what?”

“I'll tell you later okay?”

“When?”

“Just later! Okay? I need to go and you're wasting my–”he stopped himself, seemingly having dug himself a hole. He quickly tried to correct himself, “I need to–”

Your heart had surely stopped, “What did you just say? I'm wasting your time?” tears pricked your eyes, “Is that what this is? A waste of time? Is that what the last eight months have been for you?”

“You know I didn't mean it like that”

“Then what did you mean?”

“I didn't– I ….”, he trailed off. The horn beeped and you heard a muffled shout for Steve's name in Dustin's voice.

You sniffled, “are you gonna get those taken care of at the hospital?” you referred to his wounds, your voice was suddenly so much quieter. 

“....yeah”, he said after a moment– lying.

You nodded. “You still need to clean it up and”, you picked up rubbing alcohol, a painkiller bottle from the shelf behind you and some bandages, “bandage it.. ‘til you go to the hospital.” you tossed them over to him. 

The horn of the winnebago blared. Steve looked back at the door, he reached for his wallet but you stopped him, “you don't need to. It's fine.” Steve heard you sniffle again. 

“Baby–”

“For the record… it wasn't a waste of time for me", your voice cracked, “But I'm really sorry if I wasted your time.”

He stepped closer, shaking his head a little but you weren't looking up, eyes trained on the grain of the wooden counter, trying your darndest to not let the tears fall.

“You should go now.”

“honey–” the horn blared.

“Just go, Steve.”

You only dared to look up when you heard the bell above the door ring. Your vision was blurry as you watched the vehicle drive away. 

Honestly, you get it. you understand. 

You understand if the guy you loved wasn't willing to let you in. And despite how much it hurt, you couldn't keep him to yourself. You weren''t sure what this entire thing meant. Did you just indirectly say that it was over? Did you want it to be over? Were you willing to let it be over? To let him go? 

“C’mon”, he stood at your door with expectant eyes. 

You scoffed before looking back at the clock— your parents werent coming home until another half an hour, “alright fine”, you gave in.

After you put your shoes on, you reached for the door handle to shut the door behind you but there was Ollie standing right on the threshold, tail wagging. The dog gave a soft ruff, looking up at you with expectant eyes. 

“Please don't bring him along too.”

You smirked, “Ollie you wanna come for a walk?”, the boy beside you groaned playfully.

The dog barked happily before spinning around in circles. His nails clicked against the floor as he sprinted to where his leash and jacket were kept. “Alright, bud”, you moved to put Ollie's jacket on him and hooked the leash onto his collar.

The dog walked infront of the two of you. The sun had set and the three of you were walking under the warm yellow pavement lit up by the streetlights. Ollie would stop every now and then to sniff at a bush, tree trunk or lamp post. 

“When will he stop third wheeling us?” Steve finally spoke up beside you.

“Never.”

“This was supposed to be a romantic walk in the snow and now he’s pooping and pissing all over the winter wonderland– wont be a white christmas anymore”

“Oh, shut up. You love him, I know it”

“Yeah, whatever”, he shook his head with a smile.

“By the way, to what do I owe the pleasure of a romantic walk?”

“Wha– ? babe, You say as if I'm not romantic”

“No, you are. But I thought you were going to that christmas party with your parents.”

“Yeah that was until my dad started being an asshole after too much egg nog. So, I booked it”, he shrugged nonchalantly.

“Oh, I’m sorry Steve”

“Eh, it's okay– Jesus Christ, Ollie, how much territory are you gonna mark, boy?’

“Steve..”, your fingers reached for his palm. You both stopped, he looked down at where your hands were intertwined before giving it a squeeze.

“I'm okay. Okay?”

You look at him for a bit. Despite wanting to, you dont push further. You squeezed his hand back, “okay.” his shoulders relaxed. 

You started walking again, pulling yourself further into the boy's side, resting your cheek on his shoulder. It dawned on you then that you had forgotten to wear any jacket or sweater and now you were freezing.

“I’m cold”, you whined through your smushed cheek, the boy chuckled.

“Of course you are. You don't wear one, but make sure the dog’s wearing a jacket– great priorities babe”

“Well, I have you, don't I?” you said, giving him your biggest puppy eyes and the most over-exaggerated frown.

“Yeah, “ he sighs, handing you the leash he was holding, “you do.” He took off his jacket he was wearing over his his fuzzy sweater and helped you put it on. “Better?” he gestured towards the leash to take it back.

You returned it and nodded with a proud grin, “you've fallen under my trap”

“Yeah? what trap?” he muses while smoothing down the crinkles in his thick sweater.

“This…..”, you smirked, “is mine now”, you declared, pulling the material tighter around you. 

“Oh, no! The jacket stealing trap! What will I ever do?” he brought his to both his cheeks, shaking his head in pretence worry. You laughed.

“Y’know…”, he started– the corners of his mouth curling up, “I would give you all my jackets if you…… Kiss me?”

“Oh, yeah? That depends…”, you crossed your arms,  “How many jackets do you have?”

“Oh, so many– like a million” he shrugged. Both your steps slowed down to a halt. “Billions….. gazillions”

“Wow, babe, that's a lot of kisses”, you moved in a little closer to him.

The leash in Steve's hand tugs accompanied by Ollie whining, the dog came closer to the two of you who were leaning into each other. The dog started pulling on Steve's jeans.

“Hey! Dickhead, I'm having a moment here”

“Hey! don't call him a dickhead”, you admonished.

“Well, he’s acting like a dickhead.”

You glared at him. 

“What? We were about to have a lovely romantic kiss before he so gracefully interrupted”

“Why do you have a rivalry with my dog?”

“He’s my arch nemesis”, he said with narrowed eyes directed towards the puppy.

You playfully rolled your eyes before taking the leash from Steve's hand and walking ahead. You laughed as you said, “Oh, please, you're just jealous because I love him more”

“I’m not jeal– what did you just say?”

“Wh– what?” you stopped in your track before turning around, brows furrowed.

“Oh, you just said something”

“What did I–”

“You said you love him more than you love me. That implies you love me.” he explained, walking closer to you. “You said you love me”, he stated with a shy smile as he stood directly infront of you.

“.. did I?” heat crept up your cheeks.

“Yeap, it was loud and clear. Even Ollie heard it. Right bud?” the dog barked in response as if actually had a clue of what was going on in the conversation.

“Oh, so now youre both working together? You know what? yeah, well, so what? I said it. I love you. You got a problem with that?”

“No… I'm pretty okay with it actually”

“Just okay?”

“More than okay. Perfect. Infact, I love you too.”

A shy smile grew on your features, same on his. The two of you leaned in but stopped mid-way when Ollie ruffed. You groaned, pulling away before saying with a stern voice, “Ollie, sit.”

“Little shit, only listens to you”, the boy infront of you mutters as the dog settled down and sat down. You glared at Steve. “Sorry”, he apologized, his head hanging low.

“Now, where were we?” you pull him in by grabbing a fistful of his fuzzy sweater, your lips slotting against one another. An arm wrapped around your waist, the other helped tilt your head. You too held his face back, the other hand snaking down to his waist where the fingers hooked through the belt loops.

You pulled away when his movements started to become a little faster and his hand started moving lower, “Okay, okay. I…  its getting late– my parents are gonna be here soon”, you heaved.

“We were only getting to the good part”  he whined through laboured breaths.

“Kissing me wasnt the good part?”

His eyes widened, “I– I mean”, he scoffed when he noticed the sly smirk on your face, “Stop messing with me.”

You tugged lightly on the leash to get Ollies attention who had started to dig a hole in the snow, “c'mon Ollie.”  the dog’s tail wagged before he shook the snow off of him. The dog took the lead as the two of you ambled behind him.

Most of the walk back was holding hands silently, looking around at the christmas lights everyone in the neighbourhood had put up. When you were almost two houses away from yours, you spoke up, “you know. You could… stay the night?”

Steve looked at the pavement as the two of you walked, you looked at him with expectant eyes. He sighed before finally answering,“You know what? Sure.”

“But you would have to sneak out through the window later”

“Window? With these joints? I'm old.” he frowned.

“Oh, my poor, poor twenty year old boy”, you frowned back with a mock pitying look as you unlocked the main door and removed Ollie’s leash and jacket. 

You and Steve wasted no time after that, running up the stairs to your room. As soon as the door was closed behind you, Steve was on you, plump and slightly cold lips moving fast against yours. 

“Well, you're eager aren't you?”

“What? No…” he smiled against your skin, a giggle erupted from your throat as the sensation tickled you.

You were about to go back to attaching your lips to his when you heard a woof followed by the wood of the door scratching. The both of you sighed, foreheads touching.

“That little shit”, Steve huffed, “what an attention whore.”

You laughed through uneven breathing before moving off the door and then letting the dog in.

You heard the door downstairs opening and closing followed by your mother’s voice telling you she was home. You quickly went downstairs telling Steve and Ollie to stay quiet.

The boy took a seat at the edge of the mattress, the dog came to stand infront of him for a bit– tail wagging. The dog hopped on his back legs, front paws scratching at Steve's jeans. Steve reached down to scratch him behind the ears, “y’know Oliver. You're real cute and all. But you're one big cock block”

You really shouldn't have been alone. 

It all happened so fast. One moment you were wallowing in your own self pity, the next moment, the lights were flickering and soon the ground started rumbling beneath you. 

Now, as you were hiding underneath the counter of the store you worked at, the walls shook and ground rumbled. All you could think of was your family, dog and Steve Harrington. 

Of course, the world decides to end today of all days.

There was so much smoke. All you could see was black, maybe your eyes were closed, maybe there was a blackout. But something was on fire– there was so much smoke. Your eyes were watering and your throat burned, coughs uncontrollably tearing from your throat. You felt light headed, soot stuck to your sweaty skin. 

You really wanted to go home right about now.

Some rest sounded nice. Maybe some sleep.

You felt yourself succumbing to sleep, eyes drooping on their own accord. Breath slowing down. The corners of your vision went black.

It quieted down for a second. It wasn't too much for a second. 

Sleep sounded like the perfect thing. 

“Help!” a small terrified voice broke through the silence.

“Help!” it came again from somewhere outside the store. You somehow managed to will your muscles to move. You peeked from under the table and through your watery eyes you saw a boy who looked to be younger than you, flailing his arms in the air, limping. 

Your body worked on its own accord. Muscles and bones working on autopilot. You crawled from under the counter, grabbed your water bottle and Steve's jacket. Your movements were jerky as you spilled the water onto the fabric, wetting it before putting it over your nose and mouth– a makeshift mask. 

You ran. You left your safety bubble and ran. You ran despite the ash in your lungs, despite the shake of your fingers, lightheadedness, and the lactic acid settling in your tired muscles. In your disorientation and franticness, the stupid rusty chair hit your back, the heavy metal smacked hard against your skin but you still ran. You stumbled to open the door, shouted for him to run and pulled him in. You put your bootleg mask to the boy’s mouth.

The rumbling of the earth had quieted down a little; enough to allow you to help him walk over to the desk– your safe bubble. 

You were just about to reach it when another wave hit, the ground shook and both of you lost your footing. The boy huddled to you, you moved to cover him to the best of your ability. The aisle next to you groaned and when you managed to look, it was swaying. 

You tried to get away. 

“Move!” you shouted, your voice barely audible over the rumble. The boy shook under you. In a last ditch effort, you pushed him away. 

You tried to get away, trying to crawl away yourself, but the heavy metal shelves hit your spine. Your head smacked against the tiles. 

You heard shouting, you weren't sure if it was the boy or you. Your ears were ringing. your limbs felt like jelly buried under the rubble. And you really didn't feel like you could get up. You couldn't really see anymore, the darkness from the corner of your vision had finally spread.

It hurt. It hurt so much that you weren't sure where it hurt or if it was still hurting. You tasted metal, felt a trickle run down the nape of your neck. You felt a little cold. The boys voice came in and out, none of the words truly registering in your brain.

God, you really missed your bed. 

You missed ollie. You wished you could pet him again, give him his favourite treat, help him sneak into a bed again.

You missed your parents and your brother. What wouldn’t you do to have one more dinner together.

You missed steve. How you wished you could go back to that winter evening when you fell asleep in his warm arms. When you’d held his hand. You really wanted to hold his hand, hold him close, kiss him.

You felt fingers wrap around your wrist. “I'm gonna try to pull you out”, you barely heard the young boy say through a lumpy throat, you felt a tug on your arm. Pain shot through you. He pulled again, You didn't move. A scream of pain ripped from your chest.

“No!” you screamed, words coming out all slurred up. “No, stop! Just hide under the table and call the ambulance when it's over!” you still couldn't see.

“But–”

“It's okay! You’ll be okay, Ju-- just go!”

“I'm not– your– you're bleeding”, he gripped your shaking palm, “J– Just stay awake!”

“No, Go!” you tried your best to shout but it came out as only a whimper.

The warmth left your palm, you sighed in relief. You really didn't want a kid to see you dying. 

A few seconds later, you felt a pressure on the side of your head, a hit of a familiar scent hit you– Steve's cologne. Steve?

“Steve..?”

The box in your hand was as heavy as lead as the lady led you through the Hawkins high gym which had now been turned into a makeshift infirmary for the people who had been affected by the earthquake. 

You didn't remember much from the night of the earthquake, you remember falling and hitting your head, the pain and someone holding your hand. Your delirious brain in its haze had convinced you that it was Steve's warm hand. That he had come back and held you while the ground shook. The carbon monoxide poisoning had truly got to you.

Much to your delusional brain’s dismay, It was when you woke up a day later; your parents told you it had been infact a boy a few years younger than you. You later found out that the young boy– Andy, although overall fine, had broken his leg. He and his family packed everything up and moved out of town a week later.

Your muscles were still sore. The stitches and the bandaging over the big gash on your back was tight around your ribs. You had also acquired a wound on the side of your head and though you had bled, you were lucky enough to not bleed to your death or die of a haemorrhage. The paramedics had to shave off a part of the back of your hair to be able to apply the gauze properly. And you were a little embarrassed about it– you guessed you'd have to shave it all off now. You weren't sure how long you'd be willing to wear your brother old, musky baseball hat– you also weren't sure if it was a good idea to put that abomination anywhere near a wound.

"seems like you have clothes and blankets; that one", she pointed to a table with heaps of clothes piled on top of it. They looked to be freshly donated as they were in the middle of being neatly folded by--

"Steve, take these as well, will ya'?" the women beside you said.

He looked up, stilling for a second, “Hey.”

"oh, you seem to know each other. swell!" she clapped her palms before leaving the two of you alone.

“Hey… I uh– I came to donate these”, you put the cardboard box on the table infront of him, “Its uh– its mostly blankets”

“Oh, okay.”

“I– I have a couple more boxes in the car.”

“Okay.”

The walk to your car was a silent one, a little awkward. Surely, your last interaction playing in his head as well. As you weaved through the people, you noticed Dustin Henderson, limping as he gave water to some of the patients. And you had already noticed the scars on steves neck. You really wanted to ask what happened.

“Is everyone in your family okay?” he spoke up shyly, clearly trying to ease the tension even a bit.

“...yeah,”

My brother can't hear out of his left ear anymore.

“Yeah, everyone…”

My dog died. 

“Everyones fine.”

“Are you fine?”

You nodded quickly.

You really didn't want to tell him about the giant bruise spread across your back and torso. You didn't want to tell him about the gash on your back or the bandages hiding under your baseball cap. You certainly did not want to tell him about how you were stuck in that rubble for hours with a kid holding your hand, while you had thought that it had been him in your half-conscious state.

“What about you?” you echoed, “Your– your neck?”

“Yeah, yeah– uh.. I’ll be fine.”

Your chest tightened, you swallowed. How did small talk become so hard? 

The two of you approached your car, you popped open the trunk, and there were three more well-taped boxes waiting. 

You picked one up. “Here, let me–” he picked up the other two. Both of your tried your best not to wince at the strain. “Wow this is a lot”, a half-minded comment as he slammed the trunk.

“Yeah, um– I mean, these people need it more. Plus, it would just be easier to give it away, anyway since we--”, you cut yourself off, trying to pretend you hadn't said anything.

“What?”

You look away silently, blinking, “um– how are you holding up?”

“Yeah, you have already asked me– I'm– I'm sorry… are you– what do you—” he stopped. You looked anywhere but him. It clicked. 

“You…. you're… moving, aren't you?” he murmured slowly and as if saying it too loudly would make it real. You nodded. 

“Why?”

“Why? Steve– look around. Everyone is moving. People are dying left and right. People going missing, never being found again?And now what, Murders?! My parents are convinced that it is the end of the world.”

“But it isn't– It was just an earthquake”

“An earthquake does not give you wounds around your neck Steve. Ever since the Byers kid disappeared, my dad has been planning to move… and then that night I– I almost ....”, you trailed off, not wanting to tell him more especially after you had just lied to him that you were fine. “I barely made it.”

“What?”

You took a shaky breath in, Steve's chest tightened. “I should–”

“When are you leaving?”

“.. today. Right now. This was the last thing I had to do.”

After that he quietly walked the rest of the way, helping you put the boxes where they needed to be put. As he did it all, his eyebrows were pulled together, the crease between them deep-- what was he thinking? you wondered.

Once everything was done, he finally spoke up, “Can I walk you back? To your car? For one last time, please?” the desperation in his tone was so clear and it made you want to cry.

You opened the door, Steve's jacket draped over the passenger seat. The piece of clothing that probably saved you. The thick material had stopped you from bleeding to your demise. You really had to thoroughly wash it to get rid of the stain. But you couldn't justify throwing it away.

It no longer had the bloody stain, or the smell of smoke in it. However it also didn't smell like Steve anymore. 

“Here–”, you leaned into the car to pull it out, fighting back the tears and the waver in your voice,  “your jacket… don't worry I cleaned it up”, you held it up between the two of you.

Steve, pushed the material back in your direction, “Keep it. It's yours, remember? It's yours.”

"Considering everything….” you gulped, “I hope I'm not asking for too much", you took a deep breath before finally whispering, "can I hug you… please?"

It was a tight one. It was a desperate one. You hated that you smelled like antibacterial ointment and sweat. You buried your face deeper into his shirt– he smelled like medical gauze, and medicinal cream accompanied with a faint yet familiar scent of his hair products, his cologne and that distinct scent of Steve.

You pulled away, words sticky in your throat, “Take care. Don't die. I'm…..”, you swallowed, “I'm gonna miss you."

You didn't wait for a response, you quickly sat in your car and drove away, not even stealing a look from the rear-view mirror. You only let the tears fall when you had turned the corner to your home.

It isn't like you had a choice of whether or not you were staying. But You hate that he didn't stop you. You hate that he didn’t call your name, to see your face one last time. You hate you still had his jacket in your hands, you hate how tightly you were gripping it.. You hate that there were tears in your eyes. You hate that there was a sob in your ribs. You hate that you said that you were going to miss him. You hate you imagined a life with him, holding hands on romantic walks. 

You hate all that. But you don't hate him. God, it'd be so much easier if you hated him.

[betweenblackberrybranches]

Castle in the sky AU

Chapter 1: Under the Sun

@succulent-momma because you wanted to be tagged

The clouds beneath you moved fast when you looked out of the small window, your left hand pressed against the slightly vibrating glass. Just as you thought you might catch a glimps of green between the white masses a big hand grabbed your shoulder and ripped you back upright into your seat. "Dont dream, The steering in the back s  makin trouble again!" Grimacing you ducked under the bawly mans arm to crawl into the dusty backside of the crammed flying engine. The back was your least favourite place in this ship especally when in the air. the windpressure wipped it around quite agressively in these hights and after you had reattached the outer walls two times, the last few months, because they had fallen off mid flight, you did not trust it to hold your weight. But the steering was luckily a quick fix most of the time. Nothing that a medium sized slap and a bit of grease couldnt do. "Hand in joint!!" you yelled out to let the two others know not to move the steering while you work. Carefully moving not to put too much weight on the outer casing or to touch one of the boiling hot tubes you dabed the grease on the joint with the back of your thick leather glove and hoped that Drill in the cockpit would be mindfull of your fingers. The drumming humm of the engin was almost bearable back here but there is nothing that would make you truely consider staying in this part of the craft.

Though it is really the only reason Drill and Rusty had taken you with them on this flight in the first place. You were small and agile enough to reach even the smaller spaces, making you important for a long distance flight like this, being able to quickly fix these things in the air instead of landing. This is the first time you had been asked to acompany them on an actual gig. For years you had worked yourself up from running small errants, still as a snot nosed child, to Rusty taking you on as one of his apprenticess, to one of the better mechanics of the little workshop. There surely were better ones but there deffinetly were worse ones. Well but lucky for you Rod had to stay home this time to watch over his wife after she had given birth so they had asked you to come with them. Yea, you had been on test flights before but it just was not the same. They never flew this high when you were with them before...

Slowly you crawled backwards accidently hitting Rustys back with your feet when trying to wiggle out of the small space.

"Hey brat s the steering fine again?" Rustys broad hands closed down around your ancles and dragged you out all the way out of the hole, that you had used as your entrance to the tailend. Now looking back you were surprised that you had even fit in there and that you hadnt cut yourself open on the sharp metal edges when Rusty had pulled you out. His big hands immidiatly janked you back to your seat and rested on your shulders as he stood up to poke his head into the cockpit above.

"Try it out... yea? ... yea okay!"

You hadn't been able to hear the other side of the conversation but by the little squint around Rustys eyes when he sat back down you figued everything worked fine again.

"Good work, kiddo."

You chuckled as you fully settled down again. To those two you would probably allways be the little snotty kid that you were when you first met. But it didnt bother you at all.

You looked up after a while. Rusty had his eyes on the various meters of the mashine, displaying heat of the engine, how full the tank was, oil and many other things he had tried to teach you numerous times but that just dont seem to want to stay in your head. Well he was eyeing them, his actual attention was on the newspapers he had in his hands. You would have to ask him if you could have a look at them later but for now you craned you neck slightly trying to get a look of the guy next to Drill in the cockpit. The guy who charterd the plane, asking for the strongest engine to fly extremely high and long flights with. Usually this plane was used for delivering important packages. Atleast that was what the guys called it, you were never naive enough to belive that, there were too many shady deals and secret night flights. But you werent one to snoop because this was your second family in some way and they payed extremely well. This guy didnt seem to be transporting any "important packages" though. It seemed more like he was seaching for something giving Drill coordinates now and then and commenting on some landmarks. You didnt hear most of it but the little bits that had found their way to your ears had peaked your curiosity. Without thinking you had gotten up off your seat slightly to peek through into the cockpit. The man was sleek looking, suit and all, the type that you might see smoking a cigar. He looked wildly out of place next to the gruff giant on the pilot seat. His hands fiddeling with something out of sight to you and his brows knitted together in concentration. With his graying slicked back hair and wild stubbly mustache he looked around the age of Drill and Rusty but he had a sleaziness around him that you could not quite pinpoint.

Rusty yanked you down by the back of your shirt and you scrunched your face thinking of how that surely left oily stains that would stick to your neck later.

"Head down" Rusty grunted as he pressed you on your seat again. After a small pause he gently shoved you towards that small bullhole you had practicly been fused to for the last few hours. And your eyes almost grew to be the size of dinnerplates as you gawked out at the mountains peaking out of the thick clouds. You never had seen mountains like this before.

You almost didnt notice the amused snort from behind you as you gripped the sides of the window with both of your hands, pressing your nose against the glass.

"Whoa shit this really is it huh" you breathed out as your eyes followed the outlines of the massive stone formations deep below. A small chuckle escaped Rusty before he went back to studying the thin letters of the newspapers.

You werent sure if it had been another hour or more when Drill spoke up, loud enough for even the both of you down under to hear.

"Thats MADNESS  We will NOT risk our life for a so called HUNCH of yours!"

You looked up, at Rusty who looked back at you with a simmilar expression of concern. Just as you wanted to stand up Rusty already climed over you into the cockpit starting to discuss something you couldnt quite understand with the two men upstairs. A heated argument seemed to break out between the suited man and the brothers as you wiggled out between Rustys legs. The aircaft bopped as it entered into a strong aircurrent and stumbeling forwards, having freed yourself from Rustys legs you hit your head slightly on the tubing leading the coolant to the engin. Luckily those were the ones that were not boiling hot or this would have not just ended in you yelping and holding your head where you now had a tender spot. But now cowering on the ground, looking up you saw what you figued that argument over you was about. Looking through the small window directly up you saw gigantic dark clouds, now and then lighting up with lightning. The kind that, if seen on the horizon, would make the sheep herders at home franticly call for their animals to come to shelter. The kind that, if you saw them while planning a test flight you would just, not fly. But with the course you were going you would have to pass throu it unless Drill would somehow manage to steer sharply to the side or dip above it. As the argument over your head intesified you could not tear your eyes from the ever moving cloud mass as the hair on your body started to stand up to an almost painfull degree. Every second that Drill was not evading this, the chance to get away dwindled more. Somewhere from the back of your brain the fact that you were sitting in the middle of the sky, only a thin metal box protecting you from the forces of nature, from that big storm up ahead, emergend and scared you shitless. You knew that this ship was sturdy enough, hell you yourself had been the one to help Rusty and Drill check it through just this morning, but a dread you had never felt before filled your bones as the first outstretched arm of the cloud wall reached the ship and parted around it. Fabric shifted above you as Rusty climbed back down into the lower part of the ship. He clenched his jaw and then stopped as he peered at you laying on the ground.

"Get up and give me a hand up here kiddo"

You scrambled to your feet, still having to crouch in the crammed space and helped him open one of the storage spaces. He leaned in, shoving a few supplies to the side and for a moment you were sure you had seen the glimmer of a big gun of some sort. Instinctively you patted the back of your pants for the outline of your knife but you quickly took your hand back before he pressed four big packets of fabric and iron buckles into your hands.

"You know what to do right? Bring two to the guys up there, leave one for me"

You stared at him in disbelieve.

"Are we really gonna go in there?!?! Thats arcenine!?" You all but hissed and by the way his jaw flexed you knew he thought so too.

Quickly climbing up into the cockpit you threw one of the chutes to the customer and helped Drill into his, so that he didnt have to take his hands off the contolls. Now looking through the much bigger window up here, your heart sank into your stomache. That wall of clouds was way closer than you liked it to be and the different air currents around it seemed to almost fight for controll. The clouds around the ship got sucked up into the slowly spinning vortex at an alarming speed. Your hands started shaking as you failed again and again to fasten the last buckle around Drills chest until one of his caloused hands shoved itself before your eyes.

"S' fine dont worry twerp"

Your fingers finally stilled enough to get the chute all set up and your hands found Drills shoulders for a moment, giving them a small squeeze before hastily climbing back down to put on your own chute. Down there Rusty already waited for you, helping you put the gastly thing onto your shoulders. This would be your only lifeline if things went south and you dreaded nothing more than having to use it.

You clawed at the seat when the air current finally took a hold of the craft, making the engin roar and the matal outer casing groan under the sudde  pressure change. Rustys newspaper had been hastily thrown to the ground as he now stared at the displays with furrowed brows. The ship rattled as it pressed forwards into the dark clouds and a small lightning danced over the window, lighting the insides uncomfortably for a few seconds before letting it sink back into a comfotable darkness. You pressed your eyes shut digging your nails further into the old leather of the seat. The roaring thunder let you flinch and the pressure settled in your ears making your head feel a swimming sensation.

Suddenly it was all gone. Natural sunlight momentarly lighted up the lower part of the ship.

"Left! THERE!! ITS THERE!!"

The man in the cockpit yelled allmost extasic and you looked up just to blink at what you saw.

There were trees, and some sort of deffinetly man made structure. But this couldnt be, you were higher than the highest mountains would reach.. this was impossible.

"THE CITY IN THE SKY!!!"

That man was surely crazy, but so were you aparently because you deffinetly saw something out there.

As fast as you had caught a glimpse of it it had already hid behind the clouds though and the pressure on your ears had returned, now turning into a throbbing headache. But the man in the cockpit above started yelling at Drill to turn back to bring him there. You didnt hear what Drill said, it was lost in the groaning of the ship as another current grabbed it and pushed its right side up agressively, making you slam into the outer wall next to you.

You tried to regain your bearings holding your head as you scrunched up your face. Why had Drill not steered against this current? He was a brillant pilot why did he not see this coming?

Until you realized and looked up in horror seing Rusty looking back at you with a face that said it all. "Steerings jammed again." You stammered with a finality to it, it was not a question.

"Twerp! The steering or we are all good as dead!!" Drill yelled fighting against being drowned out by the engin. There was something unspoken in it. Stay safe.

Rusty squeezed your arm tightly before you crawled back into the shaking tail end of the plane. Thanking whatever higher power that you were small enough to fit even with the chute strapped to you, eventhough the metal buckles dug painfully into your chest and sides. Your breath hitched with every inch, with every testing shift of weight and as you reached the steering and yelled the usual "Hand in joint!" you even feared that the yelling itself might dislodge the part of the outer casing you were holding onto at that point. To your horror you discovered that a medium slap did not do the trick this time as the joint just wouldnt move. "Fuck!" You punched the joint with as much force as you could muster up but it did not budge

"Fuck! No Fuck this!" You yelled as you looked around franticly to think of something. But the panic had already set in. You peered back at Rusty, out of reach, who stayed at the entrance of the tail end holding the sharp edges so tightly you worried he might cut himslef. You had only once seen the man with a look like that on his face. Glazed over like when an engin had disconected from a craft while going on repairs and had crushed Pipes leg. What you saw right there on his face was pure fear, and you wished you had not looked back. All you could do to make your heart calm down was close your eyes.

So you did. And when you opened them again you had a plan. It was a bad one but better than nothing. With shaky hands you smeared as much of the grease as you could onto the joint hoping the next part would do the trick. You turned onto your back, which was a feat in itself in this small space. You looked back at Rusty for a last time giving him a lopsided grin. Then you kicked the steering with all you had.

Once.

"Kiddo! Stop!!"

Twice.

"You gonna fall!!"

You felt bad, hearing his pleading tone but Drill was right. If you didnt get the steering to work you were all dead.

So you would up for one more kick. And to your surprise the steering moved! The grease spreading and making it go smooth. You looked back again seeing Rustys face light up shakily, stretching his arms out towards you as much as he could so he could pull you out swiftly. You ginned and moved to turn onto your stomache again so you could crawl the little distance you had to go to meet him.

But as you moved your knee the casing beneathe you gave way halfway, only being held up by one side. Your breath hitched and your eyes flicked towards Rustys. You saw the panic in his eyes as he took a breath to tell you something. You didnt hear what because as he brought out the first sound the other side of the casing gave way and your whole being focused on holding on for dear life, cutting open your hands on exposed, broken bolts. And as another shudder went through the engine and Rusty yelled your name you lost grip and plummited, your chute getting stuck and ripped slightly as it opened prematurely almost decapitating you. An air current immidiatly took hold of the it ripping you up and wirling you around until you fully lost sight of the small red aircraft. You had no idea what was up or down as your limbs got tangled in the lines of the chute and all you could think was that this surely was worse than just falling to your death. One of the line suddenly wipped around hitting you in the face hard enough to make you see stars and white splotches started to creep their way into your vision until you fainted.

The first thing you noticed was a red, warm glow behind your eyelids. Then the pain set in and your eyes flew open on instinct looking around to asses the situation. To your surprise you were alife. To the point that every little movement made it clear how very painfully alife you were. First you only saw clouds below or above you, you werent sure and the strings of the chute in which you were pretty badly tangled. Looking up, you guessed, you saw that the chute had settled in the branches of a tree. Looking down you saw.. nothing.

You went slightly rigit at that realization. But after a moment of nothing happening but the tree slowly swaying in the wind you started trying to untagle yourself, swinging slightly towards the tree to hopefully get a grip on one of the lower hanging branches. Grabbing blindly at a thick branch you winced, a throbbing pain washing over your hands. But you did not let go instead you hoisted one of your legs over the branch to get your hands free. As you looked at them you realized how deep the slashes really were. These should probably be sewn up. But first you had to eskape the plummet to your death. Slowly you managed to curl one of your legs around the trunk of the tree dragging youself closer until you could hold onto it with both your legs and arms. Your whole body screamed, the chutes lines digging into your skin but your mind finally settled down now that you could securely hold onto something. Carfully reaching back you beamed as you realized your knife was somehow still secure in your pants and you used it to cut yourself loose, not able to untangle yourslef any further on your own. Slowly sliding down the smooth bark until your feet touched the grounds right next to the cliff into the nothingness. Stumbling back you tried to bring as much room between you and the crumbling ridge as possible, scrambling on the dusty ground.

For a while you just laid there. Your chest heeving as you grabbed the ground tightly with one and your knife with the other trying to ground yourself, closing your eyes. After some time you started to actually hear the world around you, that had been so eeryily quiet while you had fought for your life high on adrenalin. The wind rustled the leaves of thesurounding trees gently, insects sirred around and even the beconing calles of some birds echoed through the air. And faintly, far away you could hear the croaking of frogs.

Water!

Sitting up you stared at the caked dirt in and around the wounds on your hands, little stones nestleing in between the sand. Ouch.

You decided that you could probably leave the chute unatended for a while to clean your hands and get rid of that terribly burning feeling in your throat. You didnt even care if the water was dirty, eventhough you knew you should.

Walking on wobbly legs, knife still in your hand, you followed the sounds of croaking, steping through thick bushes and on a carpet of dead leaves and needsles from surrounding trees.

A slow dripping steered you sharply to the right as you stepped through some reed and suddenly found yourself on a moss riddled white cobblestone platform. Flat stepps lead into a shallow basain of water under a mostly broken down arch, most likely once part of an aqueduct but now laying in ruin.

Your jaw slacked at seing this but before your thoughts could fully catch up to you, you already found yourself kneeling down at the stepps leading down to the clear water and washing your hands. Then you dipped your whole head into it trying to cool off your head. Under the seering sun it had actually become quite warm and you head felt like it was filled with the stuff you had to scrape off an engine after it overheats, gooey mainly.

Your face burned in the cold water making you realize that the line hitting you in the head probably did more damage than you had thought. You knew you should be getting up to figue out if there was anyone you could ask for help around, if you were lucky Drill had landed the plane somewhere around here and the others were looking for you. You scoffed, yea as if. Your chance of surviving that fall and the chute malfunction were so low he would never put all their lives in even more danger by turning around. You knew him well enough to know that and respected him for it. It was a miracle you were still alife afterall.

Laying on your back in tha half shade of a tree bowing over the basain, the wet backside of your hands laying on your burning face you tried to come to terms with your situation. This was definetly the place you had seen through the clouds for just a moment, right? Because you would have never in a milion years survived the fall to the actual ground, not with the chute ripped and all tangled up. You only got away from it with bruised arms and legs because the actual fall was not that far.

An old tale for children that your grandmother used to tell you came to mind.. something about a king and princes and floating cities ... an ancient kingdom, huh?

But it just didnt quite come back to you, maybe it had been too long since you had heard it last or maybe your exhaustion just caught up with you as you felt all tention leave your body, sleepieness slowly pulling you under.

Until a sudden rustleing of leaves made you sit straight up, staring in the direction it came from. Nothing could have prepared you for what you saw before you. You had thought maybe a large animal or bird had made the noises, maybe even another human. But there, balancing on top of a crumling wall reaching out towards a large fruit on a high branch, uselessly swinging around its arm to close the last little gap, stood a being made of shiny metal. A little noise akin to a gasp escaped your lips as you sprung to your feet, immidiatly regretting it, the world spinning around you dizzingly for a moment. Now the being made of metal had noticed you too, turning their head towards you and staying still for a moment before opening their mouth and produching a kind of squeeling sound. The fruit hung forgotten as the big creature hastily turned around fully and lost their footing falling face first into the dust. It wasnt a far fall but you still cringed at the sound of rock scratching against metal and took a few stepps towards it, worried that it might have.. died? Or whatever the equivalent in this situation was. But it already jumped back to its feet and after just two strides closed the distance between the two of you, cooing at you while grabbing your shoulders, turning and staring at you like an interesting rock it just found. Big fingers traced a line over your face and grabbed your hands, inspecting them gently. Now looking up you were sure you heard about these kinds of beings before, ancient machines, used as workers and soldiers before the fall of that certain kingdom in a story turned fairytale... but this one looked different then what was pictured in the books, less spiky. It was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen. A dark bronze body radiating warmth, probably because this guy had heated up in the sun. Speaking of which its face had the shape of a stylized sun front row and back row of turning slowly, into different directions, retracting now and then, acompanied by a constant clicking noise.

"Wow" you breathed out as you stared at its gigantic hands working your fingers through them and taking a closer look at the intricate joints fitting perfectly, not even showing a seam, whoever had made this was a master of their craft. You looked up as a melodic, chime like cascade of sound, came from the metal being and rolled through the air. A thin tin layer had partially moved itself in front of the white shining glass eyes giving them a gentle, happy form. Whatever it had tried to express right now might have gone over your head but you were certain that it was in a good mood.

You grinned at it awkwardly, picking a little at the small bits of flaking yellow paint on its fingers. Its face really was the only place the paint was mostly intact, showing flowing details in orange and gold. You knew you were staring but so was the big guy in front of you, who now started to go over your arms and legs closely prodding at forming bruises and abrasions, almost as if evaluating them. You only stopped it when those large hands moved to hitch up your shirt, likely in search for more wounds. But you had non of it pushing the hands away from you and taking a step back. You werent going to let this big metal guy strip you down like that even if it.. he? only ment well.

His.. yea his, you decided, face turned on its head rays retracting slowly and shooting out again one after another around its face. Thinking. You guessed.

Chiming noises spilled out of the metal beings chest as he suddenly went and picked you up, arms outstretched as if he thought you would claw at him like a wild animal. The scratchmarks on his casing painted a wild picture and you couldnt help but crack a little smile at the thought of him picking up an dangerous predator like a little pet.

You werent in danger, somehow you knew.

[val-made-a-mistake]

❝FIREWHISKEY.❞

(not my gif)

summary: liquid courage - that's firewhiskey. a drink you and george can both overindulge in, sometimes, but it always seems to bring you closer together.

warnings: fluff central, alcohol (obviously), underage drinking, hangovers, mentions of vomiting, just a disclaimer, it’s been several years since i last picked up the harry potter series, you can probably guess the reason why, so i SINCERELY doubt everything will perfectly follow the timeline. my friend asked me to write something for the twins for her birthday and gave me her blessing to post, please know i’m trying my best lol. this is set loosely during the summer where the weasleys and friends attend the world cup. (google confused me on the twins’ ages so they’re seventeen, not sixteen.)

word count: 1k

tag list: @mizu-soup

a/n: happy birthday fred and george! psst...when i first posted the sneak peek of this fic, i said i had written SCENES for george, not just this singular one you'll (hopefully) read after the "read more" line. i'm planning to post these scenes as a little ficlet series eventually and develop george and reader's relationship more (firewhiskey is the main theme in all of them, as you can probably guess) but my life is a total dumpster fire at the moment, so who knows how fast that'll happen. please enjoy for now :) i love you

//////

Up on the highest floor of the Burrow, the window was a thin, uncurtained rectangle stretching up to the roof, and early in the morning, if, say, you’d gotten so drunk on Firewhiskey the night before you’d blacked out and subsequently forgotten to hoist Ginny’s old mattress up against the wall to cover it, the sunrise nearly blinded you and every other occupant of the room come 7 AM.

Not the most pleasant awakening one could have in the early morning.

“Merlin,” Fred moaned, wincing at the stream of sunlight and shoving his face into the pillow. “Ron, get the bloody mattress.”

“Why does it have to be me?” Ron cried, bounding up from the misshapen heap of blankets on the floor.

“You’re closest, you moron!” George snapped back. “Dunno about Fred, but my head’s pounding, Y/N woke up with her head in the bucket…”

“I’m awake, George,” you bit out from the opposite side of the room, absentmindedly grabbing onto the rim of the bucket in case you were to throw up again: your mouth tasted like something had died and rotted in your throat, and your voice sounded rough and gravelly from the dehydration. “Fuck, that’s the last time I’m drinking Firewhiskey…”

“You lot okay?” Harry whispered from opposite Ron on the floor. You didn’t think anything of it at the time, but he was clutching his forehead, gently rubbing his scar. Regardless of what it may have meant, you felt pity for him: you, Fred, and George might have just turned seventeen, and had drank Firewhiskey plenty before you’d legally been able to, but Harry was fourteen, much too young for a hangover. God, he’d only wanted a sip, why’d you let it go this far?

“We’re alive, I think,” Fred groaned as Ron got up to block the window; his voice was still muffled from his head in the pillow. “Mum will have everything in the pantry for a Rejuvenation Potion, right?”

“Reckon we can nick the cauldron from Percy’s room?” you put in tiredly, rolling over onto your back to stare at him.

George snorted and rolled his eyes. “Oh, no, Y/N, that’s gonna be impossible.”

You’d opened your mouth to hit him with a snarky remark of your own, but too late: in a blink of an eye, George had vanished.

Before you could even roll your eyes at how abruptly he disappeared— and how clever he obviously thought he was as you’d failed your Apparition Test three times in a row and still couldn’t legally do it — he’d Apparated back into the room with a small rusty cauldron in his hands.

“Percy’s in the kitchen,” he told the room, his grin as smug as ever. “Go down and distract him for me, will you? Look alive, you lot.”

The sunlight no longer a threat to his wellbeing, Fred rose from the squashed, broken mess of a couch, rubbing his eyes. “I’ll see what Mum’s making for breakfast.”

He Disapparated, but not fast enough for you not to spot his identical grin. You had to glare at the wall. They loved teasing you, and no matter how much you may have loved them, you’d never hear the end of it.

There was an awkward silence as everyone seemed unwilling to move.

“Ron, get out,” George said, looking over at the misshapen heap of blankets that bore a wincing Ron.

“Fuck you,” he shot back immediately, and George grinned.

“You better not let Mum hear that sass. Harry, I love you mate, I don’t want to sound like I’m kicking you out, but can you leave me and Y/N alone for a moment? Potion’s gonna take, like, fifteen minutes to brew.”

“No problem,” Harry groaned, reaching for his glasses as he climbed to his feet. “Ron, c’mon.”

Much slower than either of the twins, Ron got up, wobbled to the door with his best friend’s aid, and with the loud CREAK of the door opening, they were gone. George was already taking the ingredients he’d gathered out of the cauldron: you saw several packets of herbs, tiny vials of juices, and a large stirring spoon.

Working deftly, he pointed his wand at the pan underneath the cauldron. “Incendio.”

A fire ignited immediately.

“Do you think you’re gonna vomit again?” he asked you as he ripped a packet of herbs open and dumped them into the cauldron. His voice was so gentle you almost didn’t register he was talking to.

You probably weren’t going to, so you finally let go of the bucket. “I don’t think so.”

“Last time she’s drinking Firewhiskey, she says,” he mocked you, wiggling his shoulders sarcastically. “That’s what you say literally ever morning after, you know.”

Slightly above him on the only bed of the room, you pinned him with the most searing death glare you could manage.

George grinned at you - his real grin, completely free of sarcasm or smugness. “Hang in there, love.”

A small silence fell as you watched him.

“I think if you had any ounce of ambition, you’d be a Healer at St Mungos,” you told him absentmindedly.

“St Mungos!” he gasped, his eyes jumping up to yours as he uncorked a small vial of a mysterious reddish juice. “How dare you, Y/N! You want to set me up with Snape for a few more years?”

You laughed, even though it upset your stomach, which was already growling incessantly. “No, I - I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. Jesus, I need some of Molly’s scrambled eggs.”

“Go on without me,” he told you, eyeing a measurement of an equally mysterious brown powder that your Muggleborn background likened to hot cocoa mix. “Tell Mum I’m sleeping and am not to be disturbed. And tell Ron if he rats us out about what happens last night, he’ll wish he was never born.”

“I don’t think he will,” you said tiredly, rising. “But I’ll tell them nonetheless. I love you.”

“I love you too,” he responded. “Stay alive for me.”

You smiled gently; your head was still pounding, and now that you were on your feet, your whole world was spinning. “I’ll try.”

[angelsanarchy]

Tangerine Skies: Possum x Y/N Series CH 7

Tagging: @svgarcaine @icarus-star @romanroyapoligist @tempt-ress @madamemaximoff06 @shady-the-simp @liquidsmoothdomme @auggiethecreator @ethical-cain-vinnel @blacksoul-27

Possum had stopped responding to text messages at around 7:15PM. She knew he told her not to call but by 2AM, she started calling. When she first started calling, it would ring at least 4 times before kicking into his voicemail. Now that it was so late, she kept calling until it no longer rang but went straight to voicemail meaning the phone was now off.

"Come on Possum. Where the hell are you?" She paced around glancing over to Opossum while he slept on the couch in a bundle of blankets. She heard rustling outside of the RV and walked out to see Possum stumbling into his tent.

"Possum! Are you okay?" She startled him but he shook it off rather quickly.

"Oh yeah yeah I'm totally fine. No worries. I just...ran the whole way here. Did you miss me?" He was out of breath, sweaty and the bottom of his pants were torn and wet.

"Hey...take a minute and talk to me okay? You don't look alright." Possum frowned.

"Well I could use some rest. It's been a long day-" The moment he started towards the picnic table, his leg gave out and Y/n caught him.

"Okay, that's it." Y/n helped him limp towards the table and sat him down. As soon as she was able to assess him, she knew the wetness on his leg was blood. She tore the bottom of the pantleg open.

"Oh I liked these pants!" Possum whine as Y/n came face to face with a bloody and bruise leg.

"What the fuck happened to your leg Possum? You need to go to a hospital." She touched it carefully making him flinch.

"I may have been underestimated how observant I am while running through the woods...I got caught up in a bear trap." Possum winced again as she looked at the gashes.

"Oh my god..." She knew that the only bear traps that would be in the woods would be up near the mountains where all the drug dealers made their products. He was drug running.

"Stay here." She walked into the RV and found her first aid kit, some water and a few clean rags. Possum watched her clean his wounds up on his leg silently, drinking the water she had brought him and using the rag to wipe his face and neck clean.

"You're really good at this...ever been a nurse?" Possum asked seeing how in the zone Y/n was. She looked annoyed...or angry. He wasn't quite sure but he felt like shit.

"No I've never been a nurse. I've just had to take care of myself for a really long time." She gave no emotion as she moved to sit next to him.

"Shirt off, I want to clean the cuts on your neck." Possum took the shirt off and tossed it behind himself. She scooted closer to put ointment on his collarbone and he sighed.

"I'm sorry I scared you. That wasn't my intention at all." He spoke softly and Y/n's eyes fluttered to his.

"You shouldn't be drug running. You're lucky this was the worse that happened to you. Those tweaker deals get high on their own supply and end up blowing your head off." She felt her heart beating fast just thinking about how much worse this could have been.

"Then what would I tell your little brother?" She started getting a bit weepy and Possum grabbed her hand.

"I'm okay. You fixed me up, it's okay. See." Possum pulled Y/n into a hug and she tried to take a deep breath.

"You scared the hell out of me Possum. You can't just put yourself in danger like that...I won't handle it well if something awful happens...and you don't come back." She explained as he ran his thumbs over her cheeks, feeling a few tears.

"A stupid bear trap didn't keep me from coming back. That was the last big job I had to do so I promise I won't be going anywhere anytime soon." Possum tried to reassure.

"It's not like you could get there anyway. You probably broke your leg." Y/n gestured to his swollen limb.

"Nah, probably a bone bruise but definitely not broken. I might need one of those shots though. Trap was pretty rusty." Possum tried to lighten the mood but Y/n glared.

"Put your arm over my shoulders, let's get you inside so we can get that leg elevated." Possum was surprised.

"I can sleep in my tent-"

"Shut up and get your butt in that RV or so help me." Y/n warned. He limped up the steps and noticed the little blanket fort his little brother was wrapped up in and smiled. She had place a small bowl near him so he could eat and drink whenever he wanted. Possum couldn't help but smile. He turned towards Y/n who shut the door behind herself before Possum took her hands.

"Thank you for taking care of him...and me." He kissed her sweetly and gave her hands a squeeze. Y/n wanted to pout at him and be upset but he was here, in one piece, a little worse for wear but he was here.

"Anytime." She leaned her forehead against his and helped get him back into the bed. She helped strip him down so he would be comfortable and she slid into the bed next to him, pulling the covers up to her chest. Possum pulled her closer to his body until they were flush against one another.

"I like spooning with you. You always smell nice." Possum admitted making Y/n laugh.

"You set the bar pretty low babe." Y/n teased. Possum looked at her and shook his head.

"I think you far surpass the bar. You're perfect." Possum grinned and Y/n rolled her eyes.

"I'm not sucking your cock after you had me that worried." She said firmly making him nod.

"Would it be too much to get a joint out of my bloody pants...you know, for the pain." Possum asked making Y/n shake her head. He was taking over her world in every way possible and she wasn't mad about it at all. They both laid up in the back of the RV, naked and smoking with the window open until they both got tired enough to doze off. Possum had passed out holding onto her body tightly, face buried into her neck, leaving small kisses until Y/n's breathing had slowed.

[holdmytesseract]

hey my love ❤️ can I resquest u something?

daryl is expecting a child with the reader where he is super excited but he also spends his time outside, looking for things for his baby.. but he receives a call from rick saying that his girlfriend is in the infirmary and when he arrives he finds out that the reader lost the pregnancy and he takes care of her and pampers her a lot those days after they both take great care of each other, because he will also be super sad😭

Sorry for my bad english 🤦

Into Shards

Daryl Dixon x pregnant!Reader

Summary: When Daryl is outside the walls, looking for stuff for yours and his baby, he gets called back by Rick - only to come home to devastating news...

Warnings: Major trigger warning here! Miscarriage! pregnancy things, walkers, fluff, bit blood

Set in the beginning of season 9!

Word Count: 2,2k

a/n: Hi nonny! Thank you for the request! ☺️💚 I am honest... I don't know if I should love this one, or not. I tried to write a bit action as well, but it probably isn't the best... Hope you like it nevertheless! 🙈

Tagging: @km-ffluv @loz-3 @stitchintimefan @peaches1958 @fictive-sl0th @lou12346789 @in-this-minute @hotgirlsshareaccounts @sweetpeapod @fuseburner @azanoni @bookofsecretjourneys

Masterlist

"'M goin' back out today. That okay for ya?" Daryl asked, while buttoning up the last few buttons of his black shirt and rolling up the sleeves. You smiled at him, stretched and stood up; leaving the cosy bedsheets behind. "Of course." You said, stepping closer and watching him slip in his angel-winged vest. Both your hands found their way on his chest, softly tugging on the cold, smooth fabric of the famous leather vest. "As long as you're coming back to us..." You whispered with a smile; your eyes never leaving his beautiful blue-greyish ones.

Us... The word hit Daryl like a ton of bricks - in the best way possible, though. It caused the ends of his nerves to sizzle. An overwhelming feeling of warmth and love flooding his veins. Us... He couldn't stop himself from smiling that signature sweet, small, boyish smile. "Ain't gonna ever leave ya two alone," he stated, shaking his head. One hand settled on your left hip, while the other found your yet non-existent baby bump. Although Daryl always stated, that he was already able to feel the tiny, innocent life. Despite the fact that you were barely eight to ten weeks along - according to Siddiq. Whenever he said that, you'd just giggle and shake your head.

"'M always goin' to come back for ya. 'Specially now." Your smile even widened; one hand reaching up to brush a chestnut brown curl out of his handsome face. "I know." You stood on your tippy-toes to brush your lips against his; eyelids fluttering shut.

"I can't convince you to let me join you, can I?" Daryl scoffed playfully, shaking his head. "Absolutely not. Ain't lettin' you walk around out there." You sighed, but giggled. "Thought so... Take care out there, yes? Be safe." Your boyfriend nodded. "'Course. Promised." "Good." You kissed him again. "I'll be back 'fore the sun's goin' down."

Daryl grabbed his crossbow then, his knives and took one of the pick-up's. His bike would've been a bit too small for his task ahead. With a last look at you and a soft smile, he left Alexandria; off to find and scavenge stuff for the baby.

Around midday, Daryl was already several miles away from home, searching every square inch of a few smaller cities around D.C. Daryl knew that it probably wasn't the best idea to be close to such a big city, but that didn't scare him.

Now he was sneaking down the streets of a rather very small city he didn't know the name of. Not much houses, only a few shops. His eyes landed on an old building. Not big and plain. Unimportant, unnecessary. He was about to walk past it, when he recognised the small sign over the old, rusty door... 'Smith's Baby Store'. Wasn't that exactly what he was looking for? "Finally," he muttered to himself under his breath, drawing his knives. With his foot, he kicked against the unstable door, listening for any signs of walkers. Nothing.

Carefully, he opened the door. It didn't budge at first, but with a little more strength, it finally gave in - as if someone was inside it before him. Looking around to check the street for any stray walkers - which wasn't the case, he stepped inside the small house. Daryl noticed immediately, that this house was constructed very... strange. The door didn't lead straight into the shop. It led into a long, dark hallway - with only three other doors. One on the left, one on the right and one at the end of the hallway. Daryl sneaked on quiet feet down the squeaking hallway; the old wood creaking underneath his weight. He checked the two rooms on the sides first, but found nothing. One room was already scavenged. Not much things were left. Most of the items useless and broken. The other room was nothing more than a broom closet with dusty cleaning supplies.

Daryl let out a slightly annoyed groan, before he made his way to the last room. The sparse wooden door wasn't locked. It was slightly ajar, making it easy for the archer to open it. The door led into a big room, full of shelves and cupboards, in which several baby things were. A smile twitched at the corners of Daryl's lips. Jackpot. But just a moment later, his expression shifted into a frown. The building had been clearly scavenged already, so... Why leave this room out? Why not take these things as well?

The answer got the archer only seconds after the thought had crossed his mind. He took a few steps inside the room - and immediately felt the floor giving softly in underneath him; bending under his weight. The wood was rotten, dilapidated and more than unstable. Daryl walked backwards again, biting his lip and weighing his options. Should he risk it? Should he not? He didn't know what was beneath the floor. Perhaps the basement? He could've sworn he had seen a small stair in the other room, leading down to a door. The basement couldn't be that bad, could it? And perhaps the floor held him, so... Daryl had been way too long on his way today and the past days - weeks. He didn't want to go home once again empty handed.

So, he took the risk - and paid for it almost immediately. The old wood held his weight the first time and also the second time - but not the third. It gave in underneath him, creaking and aching, causing the archer to fall - like he had predicted into the basement. With a thud, he landed on his back, groaning. "Shit." Only a tiny window let the sunlight in and illuminated the dark, dusty and... smelly room. His ears were ringing from the fall, his senses blinded for a moment, causing him to not realise instantly, what he got himself into.

Only when the sounds of low snarls and snapping teeth urged slowly but surely to his ears, he realised. Daryl's eyes widened in shock and surprise, before he scrambled to get up from the cold ground. The window didn't let much light in... But enough to show that said basement was filled with more than just two walkers... Way more than two. Daryl grimaced - in pain and frustration. "Damn it!" The walkers noticed him, of course, immediately and went straight at him. Daryl reached for his knife to get rid of the first undead, attacking him; all the while scanning the room for the door. He had to get out of this.

Unfortunately - just in that moment, while he was fighting the undead, started his walkie talkie to give forth some static hissing, before Rick's voice echoed across the basement. "Daryl?!" The archer got rid of another walker, plunging his knife into its rotten skull, before retrieving the weapon again, and reached for the walkie talkie attached to his belt. He thought it had been the last one, but just as he was about to answer his brother, another walker lunged at Daryl from behind, with such an impact that the little, black device slipped from Daryl's hand, along with his knife. A grunt left his lips as he tried to get the undead man away from him. He turned and stumbled to the ground with the walker landing on top of him. Its foul breath hitting Daryl's face; rotten teeth snapping at him, mere inches from his neck. "Daryl?! Do you copy?!" Rick's voice called out for him again. Daryl gritted his teeth and used all his force to shove the undead away from him. Quickly he reached for his knife and killed the walker. Panting, he fell back on his back, catching his breath. "Come on, Daryl! It's urgent!" Rick sounded almost desperate by now. Daryl took a deep breath and stood up to get the walkie talkie. "Rick? Rick! I'm here." He panted, wiping some blood from his face. "Sorry, man. Had to get rid of a few walkers."

Rick answered instantly. "Thank god. Daryl, you gotta get back here! Quick!" The man frowned, making his way to the small door of the basement. "Why?" "Y/N's in the infirmary! She-" Rick's voice broke and Daryl's heart dropped. You were in the infirmary? Fear and panic immediately started to rise within the archer. "Rick?!" He literally screamed into the walkie talkie, "Rick!" but all he got in return was static hissing. "Fuck's sake!" The archer cursed and slammed the device on the ground, before he literally run up the stairs and out of the house. Something was wrong, if you were in the infirmary - and whatever it was, he had to get back to Alexandria as fast as possible.

The gates got opened immediately, as soon as Daryl approached Alexandria. The archer didn't even bother to park the pic-up on its rightful place. He jumped out of the vehicle and slammed the door shut; seeing Rick already running his way. "Daryl!" The archer met his friend midway. "Wha' happened?! What's wrong with 'er?!" "You better see for yourself...," was all Rick said - a sorrowful look on his face. Daryl didn't let himself tell that twice, of course. As fast his legs could carry him, he sprinted to the infirmary. Without even knocking he ripped the door open and stormed in - attracting Siddiq's attention. "Daryl." "Where is she?!" The archer walked up and down the room like a wounded tiger; tried to push past the doctor - but Siddiq stood firmly in his way and tried to calm him down. "Daryl, calm down. Y/N's in the last room down the hall. Let me explain first, okay?" The black-haired man lifted his hands as if in surrender. Another try to calm the worked up man across him down. Daryl's chest heaved, as he grunted and gave the doctor a short nod - which Siddiq returned. "You... You might want to sit down for this." "Nah, 'm good. Tell me wha' happened." The doctor took a deep breath. "Alright, I... Y/N came to me a few hours ago; said she had cramps. Usually nothing to be worried about, but I checked on her nevertheless." Siddiq swallowed hard, lowering his head. "When I went to check, I... I saw that... There was blood, Daryl."

The archer's eyes widened and he felt his heart drop for the second time that day. Deep down, he already knew what it meant, of course, but he didn't want to believe it. Not until Siddiq spoke the dreadful words out loud. "Y/N, she... I'm afraid she had a miscarriage. I'm sorry." Daryl just stared at his friend blankly. The news - the shock was just too overwhelming. Without saying a single word, the archer walked past the doctor and straight down the hall, towards your room.

Gently opening the door, he found you laying on a bed, curled up into a ball. Your back towards him. He could hear the soft cries and sobs, which left your lips - breaking his heart. Daryl whispered your name, trying to hold back his own tears. You stirred immediately; hearing his voice. Shifting to face him, he saw your tear-stained cheeks and red, puffy eyes. "D-Daryl..." You sobbed, causing more tears to fall. He was immediately at your side, pulling you against his body. "'M here, love, 'm here. 'S alright, 'm here..." Of course, he knew that nothing was alright, but what was he supposed to say?

Daryl felt your body shaking against his. He wanted to scream; he wanted to cry - but he couldn't allow himself that. He needed to be strong for you. For the both of you. But the harsh reality hit him nevertheless. A few hours back, everything was alright. His little world was perfect. And now? Now it all came crashing down. The happiness ripped out of both your hands - within the blink of an eye. "I-I am s-so s-sorry, I-I-I..." You stammered, hands clasping on his vest; holding onto him for dear life. Daryl immediately shook his head. "Stop that, please... You have nothin' to be sorry for. This ain't your fault, sunshine." "It h-has to b-be! I-I must've done s-something wrong, I…" "Nah, you didn't. These things just happen sometimes." You looked up at him with hooded Y/E/C eyes. "B-But why to u-us? W-We were so happy about it... Looked forward to meet this baby and now... Now they are gone..." The words caused fresh tears to run down your cheeks. "I don't know, sunshine... I don't know..."

The most important thing was, that you had each other. It was going to be a tough time, but you knew that with Daryl by your side, you would overcome the grief. Scars were going to heal with time and sooner or later, you would welcome a new life in this world, where happiness was most precious and family was the most precious gift. Yes, it wasn't going to be easy, but you knew from all the things you've been through that everything works out in the end. After all, light couldn't exist without darkness, could it?

The next days Daryl spent the whole time at home with you. He didn't leave your side. Not even for a minute. The both of you spent most of the time in your house; secluded. Everybody understood that, of course and gave you all the time you needed to process the loss. Losing a child was never easy. No matter if born or unborn.

[swordsonnet]

okay i lied, i am going to be talking spoilers (because i have no self-control, and i've seen other people share spoilers in the magnus protocol tag, so i assume it's fine?). assorted rambling thoughts on the premiere under the cut:

-ngl "rusty quill presents... the magnus protocol" made me so emotional

-ah yes, a civil service data entry job that has you working night shifts for no discernible reason. that's not ominous at all

-i love the new characters already! they all have such interesting personalities and relationships with each other, can't wait to see how they'll be developed in further episodes. colin is probably my favourite so far, we stan a grumpy IT guy

-speaking of colin, i'm glad we've got a scottish character this time! i love TMA to bits, but it had a lamentable lack of scottish accents

-alice is so much fun as well! i love how jonny described her as a "tumblr shitposter par excellence"

-sam is such a sweet guy, but i'm sure he'll be introduced to The Horrors™ soon enough... although maybe he already was! he seemed to be familiar with the magnus institute, and just like the trailer, this episode also hinted at something traumatic in his past that led him to join the OIAR. probably something to do with those dubiously ethical child psychology experiments...

-i hadn't even considered what OIAR would sound like spoken out loud, and it's so awkward lmao. really doesn't roll off the tongue

-i kinda ship alice and gwen now tbh. i'm getting prime "workplace nemeses to lovers" vibes from them

-okay, let's address the thing everyone's probably thinking about: i'm not sure how to feel about jon and martin's - sorry, chester and neil's - involvement in protocol. (i mean, it's not 100% confirmed that it is jon and martin, but it seems pretty likely.) like i've said before, i would have preferred to keep the ambiguity of their original ending, but on the other hand, this could be shaping up to be a really interesting plotline. plus, y'know, i've gotten pretty emotionally attached to these characters (*gestures vaguely at my ao3*), so i wouldn't be opposed to seeing them again!

-i guess the guy alice nicknamed augustus is going to be jonah magnus, then? that idea is just so funny to me. imagine being trapped in a computer with your boyfriend (who stabbed you) and your evil boss (whom you stabbed)

-i really like the vibe of the new "statements"! i particularly enjoyed the forum entries, i always appreciate the use of unique formats to tell a story. it reminds me a little of analogue horror, though of course it's the exact opposite of analogue - you could call it digital horror, i suppose? anyway, much as i loved the more traditional horror story structure of the TMA statements, i think it's super exciting that they're branching out and trying new things with protocol. looking forward to see what else they'll come up with!

[luvr-bunnyy]

all i feel is you

JOHN PRICE x GN!READER

word count: 1.6k. ct

© luvr-bunnyy pls don't use my headers or writing without permission

warnings: none, just a lil bit angsty oh!! and use of the pet name ‘love’

[a/n: okay!! so I decided to try my hand at writing for mw2 seeing as a vaguely remember playing the og campaign years ago, this was inspired by an hc on tiktok by @wibixthecowboy y’all should check it out !! I’m a lil rusty with my writing but hope you enjoy!! ]

Relief flooded your entire body as you stepped out of the car.

The London cold had seeped into your clothes, chill reaching all the way down to your bones.

Icy wind nipped at your cheeks and nose.

It was nice to be home.

John, who was none the wiser, was sat in his home office. Cup of tea on a coaster as he finished the last of his reports. He knew the whole point of being on leave was to rest. Relax. Get away from work. He knew you’d give him a lot of grief if you were there.

A glint of light caught his eye.

Putting the folder down, he glanced at the source. His silver wedding band. The one he usually wore on his tags, underneath his shirt, for safekeeping. Sure, he was allowed to wear it on his finger but it felt too vulnerable. Too dangerous. Plus, all the people that needed to know, knew. The boys and Laswell.

You were an operator that mainly worked on a contract basis.

They had met you on a few occasions.

John sighed.

When he had first stepped foot into the empty house, his heart ached. The many photos you both had around the house were covered with dust, another reminder of how long it’s been since he’s seen you. Your beautiful eyes, ones that he could stare into forever and would most definitely not mind getting lost in.

The way they squinted when you would smile was one of his favorite sights. You often complained about the crows feet you were getting, he would always scoff and bat your hands away from poking and prodding at your face. Pulling you into his arms and littering kisses all over your face. Utterances of praises and compliments leaking like sweet honey from his lips.

God, how he missed you.

With another heavy sigh and a lump forming in his throat, he took a huge gulp of tea and leaned back in his chair. “I should probably get dinner started…or maybe order in?” He muttered to himself, clearing his throat. “I think I’ll order in.”

Picking up his mug, he made his trek out into the kitchen and straight to the take-out drawer. It was stuffed full of different take out menus, chopsticks, disposable cutlery and an array of napkins, and a ton of estranged soy sauce and chili packets.

Just as his fingers wrapped around the handle the ‘thunk’ of a car door shutting had caught his attention. Back straightening and head tilting like a puppy dog. The sounds that followed were footsteps up the porch stairs and keys in the lock.

He couldn’t help the way his heart started to beat faster in anticipation. He was almost giddy at the thought of seeing you. So, he set his mug down and raced down to the front door. Pulling the door open just as you pulled your key out of the lock.

Your eyes widened at the sudden action but a huge smile replaced your surprised expression. “John…”

“Oh, love…”

Dropping your duffel bag, you launched yourself at him, wrapping your arms around him and holding tight. He held you firmly at the waist, walking you a few into the house. “I missed you so much. Can’t believe you had me puttering around this damn house by myself.” The vibrations of his deep voice against your neck made you laugh. Holding him at arm's length, you cupped his cheeks, thumbs smoothening out his beard.

“I know, I’m sorry. I was out for longer than expected.” He could see it in your eyes, you had been replaying the horrors of your last mission right at that moment. He understood, more than anybody and you were so glad that he did.

“I know, but you’re here now.” He smiled, gazing into your eyes.

“Well? You gonna kiss me or what?” You gently pinched his cheek.

Chuckling in disbelief, he shook his head but gladly granted your wish. He leaned down and met your lips in a languid, drawn out kiss. Conveying all the things his words could never. Relaxing further into his hold, all stress left your body. All the ghosts in your head vanished, cowering away from the light that John always seems to exude.

Pulling away, he noticed your red cheeks instantly. Whether it be from the kiss or the cold, we’ll never know but John wanted to believe it was the latter.

“Bloody Jesus, it’s cold. Let’s get you nice and warm.” He rubbed your arms to warm you up a bit before stepping around you and grabbing your bag and shutting the door. Shedding your jacket and hanging it up by the door, John grabbed the landline and started punching in the number he knew by heart.

“I’m orderin’ Indian, what d’ya want?”

“Ooh the paneer tikka masala and some chicken samosas. I’m gonna change.” You pecked his cheek before running off to your room.

Glad you had decided to shower before heading over, you simply changed into some sweats and one of John’s pullovers.

Staring into the mirror, you grimaced. Hand coming up to pull at your dark under eye bags before your fingers started to wander to the scar you had on your temple. It was new, a horrid reminder of the near death experience you had on this last op. John didn’t know, he hadn’t noticed. Too caught up in his excitement of your homecoming.

So, as you slipped your rings back on, you made your way back out into the kitchen. The soft crooning of Paul Anka was a pleasant surprise.

“Food should be here in twenty minutes.” He took a second to look you over. A cheeky smile lifting his lips, as he opened them to make a comment but then his eyes trailed over your face and his jaw fell shut.

Well that’s new.

Noticing that his eyes were lingering, you quickly turned away and stepped into the kitchen.

“Okay, well I’m gonna make some coffee. Want any?”

He shook his head as he sat at the island. “Just tea for me, love.”

You nodded and got to work.

As he watched you wiggle around and make coffee, attempting to discreetly dance, a pressure started to build behind John’s eyes.

That new scar had been a confirmation of what he heard before going on leave. He had basically begged Laswell for some kind of update and what he was given was heartstopping. You had gone dark after your armored vehicle had been hit by an RPG then after a day or two of him pacing around the house, Laswell gave him another update. You had been located and alive.

Now seeing you in front of his own two, tired eyes. Alive and dancing rather terribly, made a flurry of emotion swirl around his chest. And before he knew it, he had his face buried in his hand, quiet sobs shaking his shoulders.

“Here you go, but careful it’s-” You turned to face him and froze at the sight. “-hot…” As your voice trailed off, you placed the mugs down. “John?” Now your eyes had started to water. “Honey, what happened?”

“Nothin’, sorry.” He pulled his hand away and avoided looking at you, voice rough.

Slowly, you approached and wiped his tears and snot away with the sleeve of your sweater. “Okay, but you know you can talk to me.” You whispered, gently grasping his left hand and pulling it up to your mouth, placing a kiss on the knuckle of his ring finger. “For better or worse, remember?”

At your words. He couldn’t help but continue to sob. Pulling you to stand in between his thighs, burying his face into your sternum. His arms wrapped around you and his hands gripped onto the back of the sweatshirt. You were his guiding light, his lifeline and he’d be damned if he wasn’t gonna hold onto you for dear life.

And you let him.

You ran your fingers through his hair and let him feel whatever he was feeling, a few tears streaking down your cheeks as well.

His cries subsided and he just let himself revel in your hold, in your presence. This wasn’t always promised in your line of work.

Sniffling, he pulled back a little bit only to be met with your gentle eyes. Worried, adoring, loving eyes. “I just. I love you so much and I missed you.”

That definitely wasn’t all but you didn’t want to pry. “I love you too.” You rested your forehead against his. “Forever and always?”

He nodded. “Forever and always.”

‘DING’

Both of you jumped at the sound, pulling away from each other. John chuckled and ran a hand down his face. “Gave me a fuckin’ heart attack.”

Snorting, you shook your head and made your way to the door, grabbing your wallet out of your bag along the way. Paying and tipping for the delivery before returning with two bags of food, shoving the door closed with your foot.

“Let’s eat.”

As you placed the forgotten mugs into the sink and started to unpack the food, John pulled you away from the island and spun you around. “Come on. Indulge me for a second.”

With a hand on your waist and another in yours, you rested your free hand against his bicep and swayed to the music with him. A kitchen waltz.

The both of you were definitely not ballroom ready but this was perfect.

All he felt was you.

Your love.

Your acceptance.

Your presence.

You.

And that was all he’d ever need.

[neproxrezi]

gonna talk about aaall the endings of armored core six a bit under the cut

i really do not know how i feel about alea iacta est? my hope going into NG++ was that i would feel like this ending was me taking control for myself and making my own decisions, but i honestly wound up feeling more like i was following orders in this one than liberator of rubicon, especially the more i got into it

okay just to make it clear this is about ALL THREE endings, especially the third one. i didn't know how to spoiler tag that it's about that without giving away that there are three

i don't think i can pick a favourite ending in this game at all... lemme talk through my feelings

fires of raven: jesus christ. i can't bring myself to pick this again on a subsequent playthrough just because turning your back on ayre feels so bad... but the FIGHTS in this ending. the CHARACTER RESOLUTIONS. by far my favourite ending for rusty (probably my favourite fight in the game), and i think my favourite like 'perpetuate the cycle' ending of any fromsoft game. at first i felt more like this was in line with frenzied flame or shura, but i reeaally don't think we will have burned all the coral. somebody will have to do this again. i don't know how to explain this but the moment i realised most that this was the ending where you're just letting the cycle continue and the world will go through this again, was seeing walter standing on the xylem in the liberator ending. there's something really 'sad old final boss in a fromsoft game' about how he's framed there - a husk of a man burning the world because it's the brightest tomorrow he can see. fucking love this ending but i could not possibly choose to replay it again

liberator of rubicon: i've mostly stuck to replaying individual missions, but if i do subsequent ng cycles this will be the ending i go with. i definitely don't think it's the best one - there's a lot to this one i don't like, like rusty's really weird shitty fate, the walter fight being way too easy, and the ending not really telling you much about humanity and coral's shared potential. i expected to learn more than i did playing this one, and i definitely got my wish in ng++ with the next ending but i still don't know what i actually think of this ending... depending on what you and ayre achieve, it's either my preferred end to the story or a fucking horrifying one. i can't bear to turn my back on ayre though and allmind honestly made me nervous in the next one, so for now it's probably actually the one i'm most likely to redo. snail's fight was so fucking funny too. god's most useless hater

alea iacta est: i just... don't know how i feel. like i said, i thought this would be the ending where i make my own decisions, but by the end i was just following orders from a new person compared to before, and this time i was more suspicious of them. this isn't to say i disliked the ending, but i think on reruns i would rather make a different decision than go with this again. i don't like missing the ibis fight or basically everyone just sort of dying offscreen, but unless you assume something similar could happen in the liberator ending i think this one has my favourite actual outcome of the lot, buuut i preferred how i felt choosing the liberator ending missions and doing the fights of the fires of raven

that's my thoughts for now! i cannot pick my favourite ending at all, but god this game is good

gonna have to redo some alea iacta est missions and let thos thoughts stew a bit more

[hyprfixate]

hold on tight↝ [L.F] :: teaser

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ summary: you're unhappy. you're almost certain that there isn't anything in this world that can make you happier, and you're right. what you don't account for, however, is something otherworldly flipping your life on its head. or, should you say someone

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ pairing: lee felix x reader

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ word count: 950

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ tags: angst, non idol au, fantasy au kind of, felix is an angel literally and figuratively, mentions of suicidal thoughts without going into detail, reader is depressed, she/her pronouns used for the reader, slowburn, strangers to lovers, putting angst again bc thats how much angst there is.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ author’s note: hello! this is a small teaser for a much longer upcoming fic that i'm still in the process of writing! i haven't written fanfic in a very long time so i apologize if i'm rusty lol. i hope you guys enjoy! :)

quickly skimmed, ignore typos lol

-

Felix doesn’t remember when he became the front desk worker for purgatory. 

He assumes it was a while ago, since his fellow co-workers have all come and gone, some of them eons older than him. He’s always been “their little Lixie”, and while most of them have gone to a place he can’t reach, the nickname still lives on. Their little Lixie remains seated behind a mahogany desk, clicking away at his computer and waiting for the next person to approach him.

Felix is the first face a person sees when they die. Guy, the one in charge of it all, says it’s because of his contagious grin and never ending happiness. Felix could light up a room with his smile alone if he wanted to. That kind of energy helps people calm down– makes them feel at ease. Another perk about him is that he never feels lonely, despite how desperately lonely the job is. Felix knows that even though nobody stays, there is always someone new to talk to.

Like now.

“Hi!” he chirps to the person walking up to his desk. They’re dressed in pajamas with a severe case of bedhead, so from the looks of it they were probably sleeping when it happened. They look scared, and he pouts.

“Are you okay?”

“Where am I?”

He leans back in his seat, pointing to the gold plaque above his head. “Purgatory.”

“I’m dead?”

It’s the same script every time someone comes in, but his soft smile never wavers. “Yeah,” he says softly. “I’m so sorry. It’s not really so bad here, you know?”

He pulls himself back up to his computer. “Could I get your name?”

Stuttering, the person gives him their name. He presses a few keys on his keyboard before the computer dings softly, setting off the printer next to him.

“Oof.” He grimaces, eyes racing across the lines on the screen. “Heart attack did you in, yeah? That’s always the worst way to go. Have you had heart problems before?”

“Yeah,” they stutter out. “But I never-- no one told me they could kill me.”

Felix peers up through his long lashes, giving them another small smile. He knows it’s best to move on, rather than walk them through the speech about how everything and anything can kill you, so it’s a bit silly to expect that something as serious as heart issues would just be swept under the rug. Most people don’t appreciate being lectured when they die.  Instead, he pulls the paper from the printer and scans it quickly.

“Seems like you have some business to attend to first,” he hums. “You left behind two kids and a partner, I see. They’re going to need your presence in the next few days. Afterwards you’ll get to go upstairs.”

“Like, Heaven?”

“If that’s what you want to call it, that’s what it is,” he smiles. The person in front of him softens at that. He hands them the paper and points at a set of doors on his left. “Go through those double doors and walk down the hall to room 202. Knock and ask for Christopher, tell him Felix sent you.”

He waves, cheeks puffing up in a genuine grin as they wave back and disappear beyond the double doors. Once they’re out of sight, he pulls out his notepad from the desk drawer and scribbles furiously.

No glow, almost faded.

While Felix undoubtedly had a lot of questions about his appearance and business in purgatory, his biggest question was something no one could answer.

Why was he the only one who glowed?

At first, before they got computers in the office, Felix had no idea what he looked like. He knew had soft, sandy brown hair; Guy would always ruffle it and tell him he was handsome, but he didn’t know why he was handsome. Once technology advanced and they got a desktop, that question was answered thanks to the webcam. In addition to noticing his features, Felix also noticed that his body was outlined with a bright, sparkly gold light.

No one else in purgatory had that, not even Guy. Christopher, who worked in the office of external affairs, told Felix it was probably just his happiness manifested into something physical. Christopher himself was covered in tattoos, as he was known through the office for always knowing what to say to comfort people. Felix would agree with that theory, but he’s met countless people just as happy as himself with no glow.

Since then, he’s been keeping a journal of every face who’s walked through his office. Some people were more faded than others-- those were the people who wouldn’t spend too long here. Some people were dark and vivid, like the image of a 4K TV screen (not that Felix knew what 4K was, he’d heard about it from a couple visitors and adopted the phrase himself). Those people were usually there for a long time. But no matter how long a person was set to stay, they never had a glow like he did.

He tosses the notepad back into the desk drawer, leaning back into his seat and sighing. He didn’t have much time to himself, though, as the elevator outside the office door dinged.

He leans forward, clearing his throat and running his “script” in his head. He runs his hands through his hair before looking up with a bright smile.

“Hi! Welcome to…”

His voice trails off and his jaw goes slack as his eyes settle on the person in front of him. 

Yeah. Felix had seen lots of dead people, sure, but he’d never, ever seen one that glowed like he did.

Until now.

[heiayen]

luck in disguise - bennett&reader (platonic)

tags: platonic, headcanons, it's more on the comedic side!! you and bennett can't catch a break but... you at least discovered something cool?

summary: ah, a funny trip to liyue with bennett, surely nothing can go wrong! right? (spoiler, it did.)

a/n: iM SO RUSTY crying emoji anyways hello!! @my-white-canvas i got you for the white day event and here's my gift for you~ i followed the prompt you gave cuz it was pretty cute and funny?? and i wish i could write more and better but 😭😭 either way i hope youll like it, have a nice day and take care muah

It started with a nice, sunny day when you and Bennett had no tasks to take care of and could go for an enjoyable trip to Liyue! Just a short trip, to visit some pretty places, eat some good food, get chased by hilichurls, fall into a waterfall…? Oh, dear. Let's go back to the beginning, shall we?

It all started when you decided to go on a trip. A longer walk with your friend was always a good thing, so you asked Bennett if he wanted to go with you. Even despite his bad luck, he was a great companion to have around! So when he agreed, you packed some food and other things you might need, and you two went off on the adventure.

It was… going, somehow. At first, it was pretty okay! You two could talk about random things, enjoying the view of Liyue… until a hilichurl attacked you. And then another one, followed by a mitachurl! Luckily, you managed to somehow defeat them without bigger problems and without losing too much stuff… Well, good for you two!

After that, you decided to set your trip goal on Qingce village. It was a relatively close place, and very pretty too, so why not? You decided to take the longer path, avoiding Wuwang Hill. Look, it's an… interesting place, to say the least, but you two had enough monsters and not-monsters to deal with, alright? Let's go, then!

The walk to the village was actually calmer than you expected, which was weird. Something had to happen soon, and Bennett tripping over air twice in the past five minutes was not it. And, well, just as you thought about it, you heard some crackles of electricity around. You looked around to see a bunch of electro cicins near you. Just how did they appear here, and from where?

It was risky to fight with them around water, especially if your companion was a very unlucky pyro vision wielder, so you decided to simply run away. Or, at least that was your plan because suddenly, you heard a yell coming from the said companion. You looked around to see what was going on, and…

Wait, where's Bennett?!

You heard water splash and a yell, but could find no Bennett around! And you still had electro cicins trying to electrocute you! Was Bennett somewhere underwater? Well, he probably was, so you had to jump in and help him! Well, maybe it was a bit dumb thing to do, but it was all panic speaking… and so you jumped. And to your surprise, you ended… in an underwater cave?

Wow. And Bennett was there, too! Sitting in the water, seemingly unharmed, just with wet clothes and his backpack. Really, this was luck in disguise that he was alright. You looked around at the cave. The cave was… surprisingly beautiful. Full of crystal ores, even some grass and flowers, the water seemed to shine, as if this cave was something more. It was as if Bennett's luck for once didn't bring only bad things! Well, your clothes are wet, and so is your stuff, but! It certainly can't get any worse.

Right?

You two decide to stay for some time in the cave, to rest and then find a way to somehow get out of it. The resting time was spent talking with Bennett, trying to save any of your stuff (you failed to do so), and sharing this one apple that somehow survived the great waterfall fall. It was nice, really nice… until you two heard some wet noises, and suddenly got attacked by a bunch of hydro slimes!

Oh dear. You can't catch a break for too long, can't you? At least Bennett had his pyro vision, so the fight wasn't too long or troublesome, and actually a good laugh when you two were safe. Really, just what else will this trip bring to you? But well, to know the answer to this question, you first need to somehow get out of this cave…

Ah, good luck with that!

[mittensmorgul]

Your posts about The Winchesters is making me consider getting involved in the community again. I'll be honest, SPN's finale hurt bad, and I haven't engaged in or even re-watched an episode of Supernatural in two years. It took a long time to appreciate the experience and not feel like i'd wasted YEARS being so invested in something that felt like a slap in the face at the end. I miss the community; I miss talking about it, being excited, etc. But I got in the SPN tags for the first time in two years today, and seeing Dean, Sam, and Cas's faces on my screen again felt like seeing old friends:'-)

Aw, heck, well... welcome back :')

I still haven't rewatched 15.20, and I don't know that I ever will. But for the first time since it aired, watching The Winchesters 1.13 actually... let me feel even a little bit okay about it.

When The Winchesters was first announced and we learned the premise of Dean telling the story to us, I was wary. If it had started off with "so I'm dead and in Heaven and learned this stuff..." I probably wouldn't have watched, just because of that. I do NOT wanna hear about Dead Dean. I still cannot reconcile the Dean in 15.20 with the Dean from the entire rest of the original series. 40 minutes of just completely erasing all character growth and then pinning him on a rusty receipt spike was NOT the culmination of 15 years of him struggling to be free, you know? I would've noped so hard on watching him tell stories from Heaven... I really didn't want to engage with more canon that insisted that travesty actually happened.

Many of us cling to our Chuck Won theories-- that Chuck's power transferring into Jack transformed Our Jack into some weird God-Chuck-The Sequel. That Chuck The Guy was just a puppet for the actual Cosmic Power and it still had its own agenda but now there was nothing for Dean to fight back against he just... gave in to its demands and played out the story Chuck had always wanted him to.

Detour time: I've spent the last few days (while being stupidly sick and not particularly coherent as a result... hooray cold medicine brain) trying to assemble all the times Chuck talked about his writing process, what he wanted from his story, and giving up quickly because it's just so much... but I recall him saying something to the effect of "that's where I went wrong, when I tried to write myself into the story." And I think that was his failsafe-- he spent all of s15 waiting for Jack to turn himself into The Perfect Receptacle for his power, to put on that little show on the beach and take on all his power so Sam and Dean would believe they'd actually won. Making everything that happened afterward just... them thinking they were making their own choices or whatever, when they'd completely dropped their guard and all Chuck had to do was throw the Random Bad Vampires at them that Becky complained about way back in 15.04. And they'd never see it coming.

So... Dean telling the story here? I still held out hope that it would take place BEFORE the events of 15.20, when he was alive, and that the goal was to tell a DIFFERENT story from the one Chuck wanted to tell.

But the way it was all set up in The Winchesters left us open to question everything we saw, everything we were being told by Dean as the story unfolded. We had to think about it week to week, and the payoff to that? That Dean has been dead and running out of Heaven specifically in search of a world where maybe his family actually had a chance to be happy? When he was supposedly in HEAVEN, also known as PARADISE, where everyone is supposed to finally find peace and happiness? Well, that right there SCREAMS "hey, so maybe paradise isn't what it's cracked up to be... maybe something is really, really wrong in Heaven, with "Jack," with the whole concept of "peace when we are done."

Dean... is still looking for something. Something is desperately missing. His whole family is supposedly in Heaven with him, and yet why is he running through the multiverse looking for something? What could be missing?

We were *told* in 15.20 that Cas was there in Heaven, but *we never saw him there.* We were *told* that Heaven was "fixed" and all was well there, but *we did not see any of that.*

What if something very much larger is very much not right, and Dean is still looking for something? He looked so dang sad in the Winchesters finale. SO dang sad. And he was very pointedly behaving very carefully toward Jack. Like he knows he's breaking rules, or possibly even testing boundaries a little bit here... and I like the wide open possibilities of what that could mean.

I really think Dean's role in The Winchesters is effectively wrapped up. I would love to see a continuation of the series just for the characters we've grown to love there. But I do firmly see it as its own thing, adjacent to Supernatural and built from it, but with the potential to be whatever it wants to be in the future, and I love the possibilities inherent in that.

But for Dean himself? He absolutely built a high dive platform for himself to dive back into his own story from here, and I would LOVE to watch that unfold, as well. And to me, that feels like Jensen's intent behind all of this.

Will it ever happen? Golly I sure hope so...

[starletgirlie]

BROKEN; — MATT MURDOCK

© credits to the author of the gif, i found on pinterest. if you own it, let me know so i can add your @

MATT MURDOCK X READER

Summary: Matt comes back from the massacre at the bulletin to find you wanting for him along with Sister Maggie

Word Count: 1K

Warnings: pure angst, reader has a fight with matt, curse words, the ending it's no happy and matt it's just so broken

Author's note: can't believe im writing again, i missed so much... anyway, i was rewatching daredevil and i had this ideia, im a bit rusty but i hope y'll like it!

masterlist

join my tag list!

Matt is back. Figuring out the way you did was enough to empty two bottles of wine. Foggy and Karen told you so you could help them convince your best friend to turn himself. It worked, Karen talked to him and everything was going well as planned. They were at the bulletin, waiting for Nadeem, you on the other half was trying to understand how he lived, where he stayed all these months... Everything was so confusing and anger was consuming your body.

You and Matthew had known each other for years now. You met in collage, your roommate fell in love with foggy. Inevitable, you guys became friends, in the end the thing between Chloe and Foggy didn't work out, but the boys had become an important part of your life. They were your best friends. So when he died, a part of you was gone along with him, that's why you were so angry when the truth came clear.

The church. It's now stupid how it never crossed your mind. Where does a catholic boy go when he's broken? That's how you ended up at the church's basement with Sister Maggie.

When Matt arrived, he was so troubled he didn't even notice your presence, he was so agitated that his brain failed to process the extra heart beating in the room. Your heart dropped at the view, Matthew was cover in blood, his white shirt was red and soaked. You knew what he did on his free time, but had never seen him in that state. Sister Maggie rushed to help him but, as soon as he notices her, he starts yelling.

“FISK SEND A GUY WEARING MY SUIT, IMPERSONATING DAREDEVIL!”, your whole body flinched, Matt sounded so angry.

“It's just a suit, Matthew. He'll never be Daredevil.”, Maggie was trying to calm him down, but she failed.

“You're missing the point. He didn't just find someone to wear my suit” He starts to take his shirt off, “He found someone as fast and skilled as I've seen, and I couldn't take him.”, his voice fails him “He found someone to kill me.”

“Matthew” Sister Maggie stays in one place while Matt is walking back and forth in the room, stressed, frustrated and angry.

“I was stupid enough to think I had Fisk cornered.” He keeps pressing some fabric over a wound on his shoulder, that you didn't even notice was there because of the amount of blood. He looks over to Maggie, “He knew I would find the witness, I just brought the sheep to slaughter.” He starts to gesticulate, “Jasper Evans is dead. He's dead and leaves a son behind, and that's on me!” your heart is beating faster than never, and you figure that so does Matt's. “I was so sure that I finally was out in front of this bastard. And Fisk, He knew I thought that. He was waiting for me.”

"Matthew…" She tries again.

"Foggy and Karen -" You panic when he says their names

"Are they okay?" Matt froze on his feet, his abilities had failed him once again.

“What are you doing here, y/n?” You step closer to him, you are face to face. for the first time in ages.“I needed answers… and to make sure you were okay. I currently wasn't expecting to see you here.” You say firmly. He sure knows how fast your heart is beating right now, but sometimes you like to make a fool of yourself.

“You won't find them here, you can leave.” He's been an asshole, but you can be worse.

“You died, Matty. You fucking let me believe you were dead. And now you come crawling for Karen's help? You didn't even get the guts to go see me… well, you probably didn't need anything from me.” At this point, Sister Maggie has backed down. She knows this is not going to end well.

“I was trying to protect you, goddammit! Why is so hard to understand?” He yells at you and you flinched. Tears start to roll down your face and Matt can taste them.

“You don't get to say that bullshit for me. Maybe saying all the time makes you believe this shit, but that doesn't work with me, Murdock. Deep down, you know you are isolating yourself because you feel guilty cause you got to live. That's the fucking truth, and we all know it” Anger is oblivious in your voice, but also hurt and sadness. When you finish your point, you realize that Matt is also crying, and that makes you even weaker.

“Get out. You two are heated, It will only make everything worse. He's bleeding and need to be stitch up” Maggie gets in the middle of you two. She was absolutely sure you would've punched Matthew if you weren't so broken, and she was right, all you wanted to do was punch his perfect little face.

“I'm sorry, Matthew. I'm deeply sorry for the fact that you don't let yourself be loved, and I hope you live long enough to realize how wrong you are.” You storm out, letting Matt completely unstable.

You end it up in sitting in the floor of Josie's. Having all of your emotions bottle up for the last month really made some great damaged, you spent about an hour crying and drinking all out, but then Marci shows up.

“That's really discussing… you might discover new diseases.” you look up to the source of the calm and playful voice and Marci smiles at you. “Com'on, get up and let me help you.” she stands a hand, and you grab it. Marci guides you to her car, once you're both bucked in it's when you calm down.

“Foggy called me, said he received a message from Josie and that 'Y/N is drowning something and really needs help', so I hope I'm fit for the challenge.” You smile.

“Are he and Karen okay?” She nods. “I'm sorry for the trouble, Marci. I just want to go home”. Marci is quick to grab your hand.

“You're sure you don't wanna talk?” You nod back and she starts driving you home.

He seeks the lord for guidance. That's what a broken catholic boy does, but apparently, Matthew was only seeking eminent death.

it's worrying to the core that this time he's not going to be able to defeat his worse enemy, Himself.

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