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sebastiansluts · 1 year

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Anon Ask

First time requester, I love your works, even with the kinks I'm not super into! But older dom!stepbrother!Bucky with his younger (but not underage, obvi) stepsister, she's not a virgin but not super experienced either cause most guys suck. She comes to his place after a shitty date to vent & decompress, looking like a 5star meal, & it turns into Bucky eating her out, sex (reader is reluctant at first but omg Bucky's charm & sweetness would quickly win me over regardless lmao.), first time squirting, you can decide where it goes from there or how it ends, but hopefully a lil fluffy at least ? If you don't wanna do this request though, I hope you find something that inspires you. Wish ya well! 🖤

Thank you so much, I really appreciate that!! And this was wonderful!! ❤️

Bucky Barnes x Reader; dub!con, stepcest, oral sex f receiving, vaginal sex, squirting- first time, aftercare

ANY HATE WILL BE DELETED THIS IS A JUDGEMENT FREE ZONE DON’T LIKE, DON’T INTERACT; MINORS DO NOT INTERACT 18+

You heaved a sigh as stood in front of your step brother's apartment door. You raised your fist, knocking quietly, half hoping he wouldn't hear you. The door opened a few moments later, Bucky standing in front of you, long and lean, in black skinny jeans and a gray henley, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His forearms were muscular, as he held the door open, your eyes trailing over him before landing on his smirking mouth.

You flushed and looked away, up into his eyes, icy blue and looking at you with humor. And that just broke you. Your eyes filled with tears and Bucky's shifted to concern, his arms reaching out and grabbing you, pulling you into the apartment. He guided you over to the couch in the main room, sitting down close to you, your thighs touching.

"Hey, baby sis, what's with the waterworks? You're gonna ruin that pretty makeup you got on," Bucky murmured, cupping your face and thumbing away your tears, tilting your head until you were looking into his eyes. "Did somethin' happen? Did some'ne hurt ya?" he asked quickly, and you shook your head, the little bit you could, sniffling.

"Bad date," you whispered, new tears welling up in your eyes. Bucky shushed you, brushing them away as soon as they fell, pulling you into his wiry chest.

You wrapped your arms around his waist, burying your face in his neck, breathing in, finding comfort in his sharp, fresh scent. You sighed, finally relaxing as Bucky rubbed your back slowly.

"Doll? You gonna tell me what happened?" he asked quietly, and though you shook your head you found yourself talking anyways.

"He said girls that don't squirt aren't worth his time," you scoffed, throat catching as the hurt washed over you again. Bucky's hand stopped against your back, and he leaned back, trying to meet your eye.

"Fucker said what?" he asked angrily, sitting you up so that you were face to face with him on the couch. Bucky's face was set in angry lines, and you shrugged, looking down, feeling awkward.

"Yeah, it's just- it's not something that I really wanna talk about, but- I can't squirt, and apparently it's the new fad that everyone's supposed to do, only I can't!" you huffed angrily.

Realizing what you had said, you glanced up at Bucky to see him studying you, eyes dark. "What? Why are you looking at me like that Bucky?"

"You wanna squirt, little sis? Hell I can getcha to do that, no sweat!" Bucky boasted and you frowned.

"You don't have to mock me," you said, trying to shove away from him, but he grabbed your hands, trapping you against him.

"Babydoll, I wouldn't tease about this. I really can get you to squirt, scout's honor," he grinned, saluting quickly. You fought back a grin, rolling your eyes as you yanked your hands away from him.

"Buck...we're, you know-" you started but he stopped you.

"We're really not and you know it," he said seriously, leaning in close for a kiss, moving at the last moment to nose at your neck. Your eyes fluttered shut, a moan escaping your lips and you swayed forwards, hands going to Bucky's shoulders.

"Thatta girl," he whispered in your ear, and you shuddered, tilting your head to the side to give him more room, his hand trailing up to your shoulder, pulling the tie of your halter dress, fabric falling and pooling at your hips, your breasts bared to him.

Bucky stayed buried in your neck, pressing wet, open mouthed kisses to your skin as his hands slid up your thighs, bunching the dress material until it was all around your hips. His hands kept going, up to your breasts, gently massaging before lightly pinching your nipples as he bit down on your neck.

You gasped, arms pulling him towards you, body rolling up in a wave, holding Bucky against you. You turned your face desperately searching out his mouth, finding it and letting your tongues meet before retreating to your mouth.

"Fuck baby, been dreamin' 'bout this, you ready? Gonna make you feel so good sweetheart," Bucky groaned into your lips, his hands squeezing your tits before gliding down your stomach to slip into your panties, stroking over your folds as he guided you back against the couch.

He slid them free, pulling your dress and panties off your legs, tossing them across the room, ignoring your protest as he stared down between your legs.

"Fuckin' gorgeous babydoll, a meal for me before, a fuckin' feast now," Bucky groaned as he got to his stomach, burying his face in your thighs, pressing kisses up and down them until you were nearly crying.

"Oh my god, Bucky, please! Eat me!" you cried, grabbing his hair, long on top, short on the sides, fingers slipping for a moment before finding purchase. You dragged him where you wanted him, right to your dripping cunt, and he moaned into it, licking a long stripe up your pussy.

"Fuck!" You shouted, thighs already clenching around Bucky's head, his tongue plunging into you, nose rubbing circles around your clit. "Bucky, fuck!" you cried as he slid two fingers inside you. You rolled your hips, riding his fingers and face for a few moments until Bucky pulled back, desperately pulling at his jeans, trying to get them undone. He got them halfway down his thick thighs before giving up, pressing down on top of you, dick feeling huge in between your legs.

"It'll fit, don't worry," Bucky reassured you, seeing the wide eyed look you had, as he coated his dick in your slick, pressing the head against your hole. "Ready?"

You nodded, and he pushed forwards, tip getting sucked in, shaft following after a moment, thick and long inside you, filling you like no other guy had done before.

You could barely breathe, overwhelmed, and you giggled, a ragged moan ripping out after, as your body adjusted. "S'so good," you slurred and Bucky chuckled tightly, rolling his hips slowly, working you up before you even knew it.

"Oh, oh fuck. Bucky wait, I feel- what the fuck is this, I can't feel this much, I'm gonna explode," you panted, heart racing, eyes flitting about.

"Yeah you can, come on baby, you are- you're gonna explode, gonna soak my cock when you do. Come on little one, soak my cock, do it," Bucky encouraged, fucking you harder, deep, long strokes that hit a spot inside you every time that made your fingers tingle.

"Bucky I-" you started but cut off as he rocked forwards hard, striking that spot again and you shattered for the second time that night. Your body practically convulsed as you came, every muscle tightening before releasing, a wave of wetness leaving you, making you think for one heart stopping moment that you'd pissed yourself, until Bucky groaned, his hips stuttering.

"Fuck yesss, so good babydoll, just right baby," he muttered against your ear as he collapsed down partially on you, pushing you deeper into the couch.

After a beat, he hauled himself up, sitting back against the arm of the couch, pulling his pants back up before reaching for you, gathering you into his arms, heedless of the wet and mess. He settled you on his lap, cuddling you into his chest, head under his chin.

"Told ya I'd get ya to squirt," he said quietly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, trying to hide a grin, but you could feel it. You rolled your eyes but settled more heavily into his body.

"Thanks Bucky," you murmured and he squeezed his arms tight around you.

"Anytime doll, I mean that," he whispered in your ear, and you shivered, then grinned.

"How about right now, in your bed?"

#rose writes #bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #smut #no y/n

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a-very-tired-raven · 2 years

Note

*I offer him some of the snacks that I had left*

Did Gen came too? (Sorry if that wasn't his name. I can't remember it 😭)

You're fine lmao

He politely declines and you remember he has braces. Seems like he can't eat the bits......

You hear a familiar voice behind you

Gen: did'ja miss me or some'n~

When you turn around you see hes holding two buckets of ice cream in one hand and a cone in the other.

#edgyanswers #jukebox.chatter #ask the boys.

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b4kuch1n · 6 years

Text

two ghosts in Morioh

another day of running around taking care of businesses with my mom. Got some down time in the afternoon and spent it on this. yes Im a fluff writer now. somebody take me out the back

warning for non-plot, terrible poetry (Im serious. Ive never written a poem in english before. its not too nice to the hand), a filler OC thrown in on the spot, lotsa outta-nowhere headcanons, and all else possibly applicable.

Read on AO3

Okuyasu finally picked up.

Which was a good thing, because Josuke didn't wanna seem fussy or overbearing. 'twas a lost cause anyway, his mom would tell him, given that he had been anxious ever since he came home from the supposed double date that afternoon, and had walked from one end of the hall to the other over forty time (yes, she counted up until forty), mumbling to himself, hands firmly in his pants' pockets because he knew the moment he stopped holding it tight he would ruin his pomp by running his hand through his hair in frustration. An emotion that he caused to himself, his mom would remind him, because he refused to just walk over to Okuyasu's house and knock.

When the boy in question finally picked up, Josuke was a bit stiff from the draft in the hallway as well as from the tension built up by being stubborn. Okuyasu's voice only just managed to break through.

“Josuke?”

He sounded a bit hoarse. “Yeah, dude, I'm here,” Josuke said. The tension didn't leave him immediately like he hoped. “You didn't come.”

“Fuck, sorry about that. I'm jus'... 'm not in the best mood right now. Didn't wanna ruin it for you guys.”

“Shit, what happened? You okay?” Josuke could hear something fell on the floor with a metallic clunk. “What's that?”

“Oh it's-- 's the paint can. I'm fixin' up big bro's room upstairs. Been meaning to for a while now so... It's.” Okuyasu trailed off.

Josuke felt his shoulders stiffen up a bit more.

“It's some'n to do.”

Josuke bit his lip. After a moment of consciously picking off all traces of anxiety from his manners, he said, calmly, “I'm gonna come over.”

“No, dude, y'don't have to!” Okuyasu immediately barked, with something like panic in his tone. “I'm a bummer right now,” he added, almost sheepishly. “It's dumb, it'll go away on its own. Jus' some'n from the class.”

“Don't even think of it as me coming over to comfort you if that's better.” Josuke had to actively try to stay nonchalant now. “I'm helping with the room fixin'. It's gonna take the rest of the night with just you. That cool?”

He just caught his free hand moving towards his head on its own when Okuyasu sighed and he could hear the paint can being picked up. “Fine. I'm gonna be upstairs, let yaself in when you're over.”

By August 1999, Okuyasu had been sleeping in the guest room downstairs for ten months.

Keicho was a private person, and nobody could blame him at that. No kid would want to leave their toys trailing about when their father was so quick to anger. Keicho had faced so much of that misdirected rage, had put himself between his father and his younger brother so many times, that anything he had that wasn't broken he held on with an almost death grip. His routines, his CD collection, his rules, his own anger. He never learned to let go, and Okuyasu, whom Morioh had given more chances than it ever did his brother, had been feeling something like pity for that, and then guilty for pitying his brother.

He didn't really want to use Keicho's room again, especially when he never got his brother's permission. When Keicho had left balancing the book in Okuyasu's hand, their life became a clash between Okuyasu's fussing about trying to take care of things and Keicho's own rhythm and order, the solution to which that they came up with being that Keicho got the entirety of the second floor to himself. Okuyasu didn't mind – everything was simple with him, really – but after Keicho's death he felt even more out of place in that part of the house.

“It's fine if you wanna seal it off, dude,” Josuke told him one evening when he stayed the night, “you're the one living here. It's not like people know or care about that stuff, either way.” Josuke was smart, but he also believed in courtesy and manners even though he had been subjected to so much of the opposite of that, and it made for a strange kind of trust in humanity. One that was different from Okuyasu's own.

So in the end he decided to only seal Keicho's room. He had been slowly packing everything his brother left behind in the house into small carboard boxes and stashing them in the hallway. He wanted to keep a whole afternoon and evening free just to fix up the room itself, but he didn't think today would be it.

“Yeah, Koichi actually steered me home the moment we were sure you wouldn't show,” Josuke said mid-sweep. “I don't think Yukako mind. Actually I'm pretty sure Yukako doesn't really want me there third wheeling them. Gotta say I was about the same.”

“Sorry for leaving you hangin',” Okuyasu repeated, just as apologetic as when he said it the first time.

“It's not your fault you aren't well, dude,” Josuke stood up straight, free hand in his pocket. “Though a word beforehand would be good. But you were home late from the class, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Goto-sensei holding you up again?”

“Nah, he's nice.” He would be, after Josuke and Okuyasu dragged him out of some serious troubles last month. He was also a nice man in general. Okuyasu thought his writing style really didn't reflect that.

Josuke raised an eyebrow at his answer. Well, Josuke would have a different impression of Mister Goto Azuma, moderately famous novelist, given that the one who had to take a pen in the arm to grab the man (then under a Stand's control) was him and not Okuyasu. That kind of viciousness must keep people wary for a long time. Not to mention the apology gift they got was a place in Goto's ten-hour creative writing course organized by the uni, which was of no use to Josuke, but which Okuyasu snatched right up.

Outside of that event though, Goto-sensei was a mild-mannered, if a bit emotional and wordy person. He had anguish in his heart, sure, but he told Okuyasu once in class, in the tone of someone who was citing their name and age, that he wanted to love everything and anything more than he wanted to wallow in his sadness, so he channeled all of it into his writing and left his personal life free for his other emotions. Okuyasu found that a good way to do things as any.

“I'm gonna trust you on that,” Josuke said after a stretch of silence. Okuyasu grinned. “Anyway, something happened during the writing class then?”

“Yeah-- well, nah, but yeah.” Okuyasu rubbed his hands nervously under Josuke's confused look. “I mean, kinda? Goto-sensei gave us a prompt, and then I wrote something sad, and it bummed me out. 's all.”

Josuke's eyes grew wide. “Oh,” he said, “huh.”

“Yeah, it's dumb. Tolja don't mind it.”

“It's not dumb if it bums you out, dude.” Josuke leaned the broom against the desk and stepped closer to Okuyasu. His pomp looked almost plastic-ish under the buzzing light of the room. Okuyasu blinked when he held his biceps with both his hands. “I like you happy, Okuyasu. We gotta go there somehow, and I'm not a waiting man.”

Okuyasu looked at Josuke, eyes somehow brighter than the light should've made them, hands holding him firm as if willing him to believe. As if that had ever been necessary. He took a deep breath, and broke out in a grin.

“Thought so. You're a musical man.”

“Hell yeah I am.” The grin crept up onto Josuke's face, and he dragged Okuyasu in for a quick hug. “So, what's that piece you wrote today about?”

“I mean, you can read it.”

It must be impossible for Josuke's eyes to grow wider than this. This was maximum wide eye for him. “Really?”

“'s not fine art or some'n, but if you're cool with that, why the hell not. Wait here.”

Josuke waited in Keicho's half-cleaned room while Okuyasu went downstairs to fetch his notebook. Goto-sensei didn't care what his students did with what they wrote after class (“It's yours,” he had said, with passion, “and me telling you what to do with what's inherently yours is against everything I live for. Any experience you have with your own writing is deeply personal and unique, and if that includes setting your drafts on fire and inhaling the smoke, who am I to keep that from you?” He seemed to actually got misty-eyed at that idea.), but Okuyasu liked the man, and he thought keeping the things he wrote in his class in order was a way to show respect to a good teacher. Or it could at least make up for his terrible handwriting.

He flipped through the notebook as he went back upstairs. Man, he wrote more than he thought he did.

“Here,” he handed the notebook – opened to the correct page – to Josuke, who had finished sweeping the room and was bouncing on the balls of his feet in a subdued excitement. Josuke seemed extra careful with his hold on the thing.

“It's a poem?” Okuyasu didn't think that was actually meant to be a question, but he faltered a bit nonetheless.

“It's-- yeah. You aren't into that?”

“Dude, I barely read actual literature no matter what kind, that's not the thing. I'm just... poems are supposed to be even more about emotions than, like, novels and shit, right? I, uh...”

Josuke bit his lip. Okuyasu tried to follow the thread of logic.

“Goto-sensei said our writing is whatever we will it to be. If ya worry this won't be manly and cool, I'm gonna. I'm gonna will it into being for ya.”

“It's not that, dummy.” Josuke smacked him over the head with the notebook. He was smiling again though, so Okuyasu didn't mind. “I just don't think I can get the whole experience without you, like, walking me through it. Since you're the one with the emotions in this poem and all. So can you...”

Okuyasu grabbed the notebook. He looked at Josuke, and then at the words on the page between them, and then tentatively finished that hanging thought. “...recite it for ya?”

“Forget it if it bums you out again, okay?” Josuke held his hands up. “I'm cool either way. I wanna read it properly, sure, but if it's gonna ruin the night for you then forget it.”

Okuyasu stood there with his own notebook in his hand, with his boyfriend, in his brother's room that they were cleaning. He looked at Josuke, and then up at the buzzing light, and then at Keicho's CD collection on the shelf, newly dusted.

Finally he took a deep breath and said, “I'm not gonna hold onto it like that, dude.” And then he took Josuke's hand and said, “Let's come up to the roof for a bit.”

They left Keicho's room behind and went up to the attic, from where they climbed their way awkwardly up onto the Nijimuras' newly re-tiled roof. August was too early to feel chilly at night in Morioh, but there were winds, and the sky was wide open. Okuyasu thought it was a good place as any to give the poem a reading.

They settled on the warm tiles, and then Okuyasu had to stand up to go get a flashlight, and when he came back to the roof Josuke was still there – as if he would go away the moment Okuyasu blinked – the notebook balanced on his thigh.

“Ready,” Josuke said once Okuyasu had sit back down snug next to him, partly as a question and partly as a confirmation of his own status, and Okuyasu nodded.

“Alright.”

Okuyasu had never recited a poem before. His mom was a storyteller when she was alive, but there was a long stretch of time during which her conditions worsened slowly and the occasions lessened until both her and the stories were gone. His dad wasn't a wordy man, not outside of anger and grief. Keicho really would rather have silence than a human voice outside of his own, and again Okuyasu couldn't blame him for that. Or even question it, really, not when Keicho had his CDs and treasured them so. Outside of all that, Okuyasu had also never been good at school. He had other things to do, and the few literature classes he actually sat in for never saw him chosen by a teacher to read anything out loud from the textbook.

So, Okuyasu didn't really know what he was doing, no. But he was also a simple man, and right now it was doing it or not doing it. And Josuke had casted his vote – the only one that counted here and now.

“It's called 1999,” he said, and found his voice a bit raspy. He didn't figure out to clear his throat.

Cigarette butt on the ground

he chose one to pick up

and hold like a torch

Hand over head

Whispers like smoke

flow

1999

numbers he carried

one

in his left pocket

on the pad

along the line

into the waves

it's important, that's what he said

Cigarette butt in the air

His hand red

His eyes red

through them, the sky orange

twilight is for a while,

if statues are the same

1999

replays dissolve

into statics

into waves

away

one

on his lips

I didn't mean it like that,

or was it

I never told him,

or even

I don't think he knows,

that's what he said

Cigarette butt against the sky

futile

1999

variables

one

dissolved into the waves

my name is doubt,

and his I never got

1999

I met two ghosts in Morioh.

They were quiet a long time after that. When Josuke spoke up, he sounded like he just cried a bit. “Dude, that's so fucking sad.”

Okuyasu tried to keep himself from shining the flashlight on Josuke to see if he really had been crying. “For real? I don' even know what it's exactly about anymore. Jus' a buncha, uh, concepts put together randomly.”

“It got emotions into me, alright? So it's good to me, deal with it.”

“It makes you sad!”

“It's good sad though. Like listening to a late artist's album sad.” Josuke threw an arm around Okuyasu's shoulders. “That's how art is.”

“Sure,” Okuyasu harrumphed, but then smiled to himself, just a bit.

The two sat there on the roof well into the night. At one point they found their hands intertwined; Okuyasu let himself lean into the contact, flashlight and notebook laid aside, essentially forgotten. Late night breeze felt like sleep.

“The point of that poem is that I love you,” he said, and let it be.

The hand in his own tightened, and Josuke replied, with all the conviction his being could store, “I know, dude. Love you too.”

#jojo no kimyou na bouken #jjba #diamond is unbreakable #diu #okuyasu nijimura #josuke higashikata #josuyasu #fanfiction #fanfic #oneshot #man its been a while since I write something with romance that ends well #for any of the parties involved #but goddammit I just love the boys too much #I just (clenches fist) wish them all the good in the world #also headcanons stuffed in this fic include:#okuyasu writes #he won't trust himself to make a living out of it but he likes it #he also is actually pretty good with making calculations #as in addition substraction and shit #because when keicho started looking for dio and then the arrows he left taking care of the house to oku #that does include a lot of simple math #okuyasu can take care of that quick no problem but he gets stuck at logic math #like stuff with more letters than numbers in it #so he still doesnt do too well at school #yes I love okuyasu a lot what gives it away #and guess what!! I still have a lot left to give so Im gonna doodle the boys real quick tonight #have a good goddamn night guys I actually wrote something

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klyhiaandboomer · 7 years

Text

Another Home Lost

K'lyhia stared down at the blueprint on the desk, Snoopy flying above her head, flitting this way and that as she pondered at the materials.

“I don't know...” she muttered. “Atticus says we should have guns but..” She held the blueprints up again. The airship hull sat half finished in the centre of the room. Snoopy let out a squawk for her attention. K'lyhia turned her head. He was flapping over the hull. “I know, I know..” She sighed and set the paper down, walking over to continue the work. She held back a yawn as she started hammering nails into wood again. The frame slowly taking shape over the days.

It was a few hours before she sat up with a big stretch. Snoopy was asleep on the finished part of the hull. The marmot padded along, keeping himself busy. K'lyhia sighed, and pulled her goggles down onto her neck before wiping sweat from her brow. She let out a yawn before slumping over her work again. She stared at the wood spread across the floor tilting her head back and forth a few times. There wasn't a lot left, but sleep was also winning her over. Stinging at her eyes. At least until the screaming. It was muffled. Quiet. But K'lyhia's ears shot back to listen. She stood. Maybe it wasn't...? The pounding footsteps she could hear around the house made her think again. That certainly wasn't the Dragon's. They were always quieter.

The Miqo'te ran over to the ahriman snoozing nearby, and picked him up. He stirred in her hands, but as the boots got louder he shot up, flying up above her. “Come here Mr Marmot..” she cooed, beckoning him over. He obliged, and the three of them moved to the upper level of the workshop, behind some crates that had yet to be unpacked. She pulled Snoopy down and into her arms and kept a tight clutch on the Marmot, while ducking her head down. Her ears sat tight against her head. She knew they were covered, but her eyes closed tight as the door burst open. A whistle echoed through the room as the intruders steps followed suit. “Ayy, some'ne sure was work'ng hard in 'ere!” A man chuckled. Another voice groaned. “Just shut up and search the room,” The footfalls started moving around the room, but K'lyhia just sat still in her corner. It was when the clicking of someone walking up the stairs sounded, did her breath finally catch in her throat. As the intruder approached their hiding place, K'lyhia tried to duck further behind the crate. It was physically impossible, but there was nothing left she could do. Snoopy threw himself off her lap, flapping violently in the intruder's face, clawing viciously into skin. The man screamed and swung wildly at the ahriman, sending him flying into the wall.

K'lyhia took the distraction to book it. Taking the precious few seconds to pick up her friend in one hand before dashing over the crates with the Marmot in tow. She took a leap off the ledge, landing with a quiet thump onto the floor below before running for the door. She was face to chest with a dark looking Elzen man, smirking down on her. “So there is one 'ere.” He grinned as she took a few steps backwards. She heard the others in the room come back up to the main landing. The one Snoopy had attacked was bleeding, but he reached for the ahriman in her arms. Snoopy let out a loud hiss, and K'lyhia ducked out of the way towards the board to her right. “L-Leave us alone!” She sputtered, her back pressing against the wood. There was no where left to go. “I get the void thing.” The miqo'te growled, pulling a large axe from off his back. “'he's all yours,” the elzen shrugged, leaving the room.

A sound which was more closely relating to something slicing through the air whistles through, the man who first dared going towards Snoopy would lash out in pain. His back arched, and would thereafter fall to the floor lifelessly. "Ruun!" Atticus comes sprinting through, blood streaming down his brow which shrouded his brows and eyes. The shinobi miqo'te moved swiftly throughout the workshop. Hopping about, zipping along the rails and dodging the bullet shots which grabbed the attention of the Cursed Hand members invading. She wouldn't know it, but many have gone through their own hell before the first scream was uttered. Atticus leaped onto one shoulder to the neck, blades digging deeply within them before he bounced off another individual to land in front of K'lyhia. Panting, he kept his guard up-- blades at at the ready. "G-get out of here!"

K'lyhia stared wide eyed as their Miqo'te attacker fell lifeless before them, his axe landing with a clank against her floors just steps away from them. She herself felt her legs give out beneath her as she crumpled onto the floor herself, staring at the Miqo'te lying dead on the floor. If Atticus hadn't... K'lyhia looked down to Snoopy still cradled in her arms, and her one hand gripped around the Marmot's arm. Shaking. When Atticus landed in front of her all she could do was stare. It was the happy little squawk from her arms that finally made her click back into reality. She stood on shaky legs. Using the board behind them to help push herself up. “Wh-What's going on..?” K'lyhia managed as she found her footing. She shook her head at his request. “I-I can't..There was an Elzen an-and..” The Elzen was probably already dead...seeing as Atticus had come in the doorway, and he'd just left. But if there were more. K'lyhia shook her head again, staring over Atticus' shoulder to their last two attackers – a large Roe, who was catching his footing after Atticus' jump, and a smaller raen with a gun, who just finished reloading.

Atticus stayed true, but not for much longer. He was wounded and wasn't seeing too straight. "P-please. We need to get out of here--" He began to grunt a cough shaking his head. It was clear someone had bludgeoned him with a blunt object over his head. Like a snake, his slit eyes followed the subtle movements of those who were starting to enter. While he still had some strength, Atticus would snarl out, sheathing his daggers and completing a few mudra hand signs, placing one finger to his lips, inhaling deeply, and blew out fire from his mouth towards the stairway!

There were too many hands to hold. With Snoopy tucked in her free arm, and the Marmot clutched hard by the wrist and now her reaching to grab Atticus by the hand as well.

They just had to run. They just had to get out.

K’lyhia basically dragged them out of the workshop, running as fast as she possibly could towing two others along on her shaking limbs.

Down the stairs and into the main floor of their home she was greeted with a smoky haze. Well. At least the explosion in the workshop would otherwise go unnoticed.

Their attackers wouldn’t get very far in the precious seconds before the workshop went up in a glorious blaze, and it seemed there had already been fights before they got there.

How was she so dense as to have missed all of this?

Despite the blaze around them though, the way to the door was clear of flames. Bodies on the other hand were another tripping hazard. Of their enemies and friends.

The smell was probably the worst. If only by a margin.

Atticus didn't have much energy left, on top of the ninjutsu he has used up to ward off any of the enemies, the blood was beginning to blind him. It was enough for one enemy to get a drop on him. While she started to go for the exit, Atticus was unable to fully stand anymore. The smoke from his lips were swirling in thick streaks as he fell to his knees. The fire around them was one of hellish portrayal, a sulfur scent stretched out as he looks around. "Th-The Syndicate must live.." With his final words dragging out, the shinobi passes out.

The most she could manage was the lawn. Barreling through the door before letting go of Atticus and the Marmot and throwing up into the grass, pulling the injured ahriman closer to her chest.

There wasn’t time though to sit on the front lawn of the house. If there were any other attackers, or if something else exploded, they were in the perfect place to be hit first.

K’lyhia wiped her face with her sleeve and padded over to Atticus. She set Snoopy in the grass before pulling Atticus over to the fence, and sitting him up.

She let out a huff, she didn’t have anything to stop the bleeding. She shook her head before picking up Snoopy again and setting him onto her head.

K’lyhia turned on her heels, still kneeling, away from the other Miqo’te, to lift him up onto her back. With a deep breath in she stood. Considering he was passed out, he was heavy.

“Okay..” she muttered, looking out over the wall to the rest of the Goblet. She leaned slightly against the fence to keep her balance. “Yuki lives around here somewhere doesn’t she?” K’lyhia bit her lip. Snoopy let out a quiet chirp. “You hang on tight okay?” She bounced lightly to reposition Atticus, and felt Snoopy’s claws dig gently into her hair.

“Come on Mr Marmot..” she muttered, making her way off the property and down the stairs.

#writing #rp stuff #rp #ffxiv rp #klyhia and atticus #klyhia and snoopy

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