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the-sun3008 · 5 months

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Imported from my ao3 account. This is some smut about Donna from Resident Lover. I have never played a actual resident evil game. have fun.

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You lazily tap your fingers against the front desk of the flower shop. Today had been slow, almost too slow for comfort. Usually at least 3 or 4 people come in every few hours, but today has been desolate. Only one person wandered in, and then left pretty quickly.

Your thoughts about the slow day are interrupted by the soft creaking of the door to the nursery opening. Before you can turn around, Donna is already right behind you, placing her hands on your hips and gently rubbing circles into your skin. She still has her gloves on, and you can already see the smudges of dirt on your uniform. Not that either of you care.

She puts her head on your shoulder and whispers to you in her typical soft-spoken and lovely voice. “Since nobody’s come in today…” She pauses before continuing, her hands squeezing your thighs softly, making you squeak in both embarrassment and pleasure. “Why don’t you flip the sign to closed, and let’s take the day to ourselves.”

You’re not one to protest a day with Donna. You gently slide out of her grasp, which she pouts at, but lets you go. You walk over to the front door of the shop. You close it, lock it, and then flip the sign from “open” to “closed.”

You don’t even get to walk back, as Donna grabs your wrist right after you flip the sign and pulls you back into the nursery faster than you can really process what’s happening. She closes the door behind you both and smiles at you with a… almost malicious look in her eyes. It’s both scary and attractive. She pushes you up against the nursery door, and you hear the small click of the door locking.

She puts her hands on your sides. Her mouth pushes up against your ear, and she whispers to you. “I have something I want to try… Trust me for a bit.” Her voice is soft, like normal, but there’s something else under it. Excitement, and maybe even possessiveness.

She pulls you further into the nursery. You find yourself in a section that you rarely go into. Plants with strange grape-like berries fill one large shelf to your right. It’s not a plant you recognise- it must be quite exotic. The wall to your left is lined with thick, thorny vines.

Donna plucks one of the berries off of the plants to your right. She looks at it for a moment, and then smiles. She moves closer to you and gives you a gentle kiss on the forehead, before pressing the berry to your lips.

She speaks with a tone you can’t quite place. “Eat it.” You consider questioning for a moment, but that slight glare in her eyes and the unusual tone make you think better of questioning her. You part your lips, and she slides the berry into your mouth. Part of her glove presses against your teeth as she lets the berry fall onto your tongue.

You look at her for a moment, and she nods in encouragement. The berry has the texture of a grape, and tastes like one when you bite into it. It melts in your mouth, and you smile softly as you eat it. Is this some sort of weird grape? It tastes good. Really good. Juicy, but not overly sweet. It almost has a warm taste.

Then it hits you. Right after you swallow it, a wave of warmth shocks your body, making you gasp softly and immediately start blushing. You can feel a certain warmth building in your crotch. You try to ignore the feeling, but can’t. Your whole body feels times more sensitive, even your clothes make you shiver and whimper as you try and stand still.

You open your lips and try to speak. “W-What did you g-give m-“ Donna wraps her arms around you and forces her lips onto yours. Your head spins and you can barely think. It feels so good… her hands, her lips, all of it. Your vision spins and you moan into her mouth as she continues pressing her lips into hers. Your back feels like it’s on fire as she squeezes into it with her gloves. You instinctively cling onto her, desperate for some sort of support as your vision blurs and your legs start to fail you.

She supports your weight and leads you to the ground, laying you on the floor as an intense, pleasureable warmth consumes your body. Fire erupts on your skin everywhere she touches. Need takes over you as the warmth between your legs grows and grows. The concrete floor of the nursery is extremely cold, but somehow it makes you whimper and moan softly as you lay on it.

Donna is smiling down at you as she sits down next to your head- which is now laying just in front of the thick, thorny vine plants you noticed before. She puts her hands around your waist and grabs the ends of your shirt. Dust falls off her gloves and onto your clothes, but you can barely pay attention to anything except her. Your shirt is removed within moments, and your pants follow suit, forming a small pile next to you. She smiles even wider at your mostly exposed body.

She grabs your wrists, and brings them together above your head. She frowns and looks around, before smiling at the thorny plants. She speaks, and her voice makes your body shudder again. “This might hurt… We’ll clean you up after, Doceletta.” She takes the vines of the plant and wraps it around your wrists, and binds them tightly. The thorns dig into your wrists, making you moan desperately. It hurts, it hurts a lot… but god, it feels so good. The way she’s looking at you feels so good too. She moves her still-gloved hands down your body, starting at your shoulders and moving downwards until she reaches your chest. Every inch she touches feels so good. You try to move closer, to get her to touch you more, but the squirming only makes the thorns dig into your wrists harder. Blood trickles down your arms. She gently circles your breasts with her hands.

She moves her hands to your back, following the straps of your bra. She gingerly unclasps it and removes your bra, adding it to the pile. She then moves her hands back to your breasts. She places the palms of her gloves against your chest, and the simple movement alone is enough to make you moan with need. She wraps her fingers around your breasts, her dark gloves pressing into the sensitive and soft flesh. She squeezes into the skin, each finger creating a deep indent into your breasts. You moan needily, desperately, trying to push for just a little more contact. It never comes, though, as she retracts her hands from your chest and moves herself down your body.

She spreads your legs apart, and sits between them. Your vision is still blurry, but the slight lull in her actions is enough for you to finally think again. You blink several times, and look down at her. She’s sitting between your legs, gently drawing circles into your stomach. You twitch slightly at the action, but nothing like the fiery need from before.

She frowns, and climbs over your body, placing her hands on either side of your head. She speaks softly and with a slightly nervous tone. “A-Ah. I thought it would… last longer…” She smiles nervously, clearly waiting for you to be angry with her.

But instead, you smile dumbly up at her. Even though you’re bleeding out of your hands and wrists, and you’re mostly naked on the floor of the nursery… you enjoyed it. It would be nice if she told you before drugging you, though.

You speak up after several moments of awkward silence. “Can I have another one?”

She seems a little taken aback, but smiles, and gets up. She dusts off her gloves, and walks over to another one of the plants she had taken the berry from earlier. She picks one off, and moves back to sit beside your head. She gently presses it up to your lips- and without needing further instruction, you open your mouth. The berry falls in, and you chew into it, then swallow it. At first, nothing happens. Then a wave of heat permeates your body, even more intense than with the first one. You let out a soft moan at the feeling.

You start rubbing your thighs together. You moan a little louder, desperate for more contact. You know you’d be fucking yourself if your hands weren’t tied.

Donna giggles at your desperation. She grabs your ankles and pushes your legs apart, making room for her to sit between your legs. She leans down and places a kiss in your stomach, just above your panties. You moan loudly and try to move closer to her- but are held back by the painful feeling of thorns digging into your hands. She’s the only one in control here.

She pulls your panties down, and with some difficult movement, takes them off of you entirely. She speaks again, her voice a little less soft, and her tone much more lustful than you’ve ever heard it. “Should I keep the gloves on?” She asks, gesturing at the dark gardening gloves around her hands.

You nod yes.

She smiles.

She turns her hand so that her palm is pressing against the top part of your crotch. You whimper at the motion, and she takes that sound as encouragement. She gently pushes one of her fingers inside you. The feeling is incredible- it leaves you a moaning, squirming mess within seconds. The glove around her hand makes it feel even better. The leathery material feels so good inside you. Just when you think you’ve finally adjusted to the one, she pushes another finger inside you, and curls them both slowly.

She starts pushing them in and out of you. Your vision blurs again and the only thing you could ever think about feeling is how she’s using your body right now. She fingers you relentlessly, leaving you a moaning mess at her mercy. At some point, she leans in and starts kissing your chest up and down. Not that you would really notice as she brings you up further and further into a desperate pleasure. You grind against her fingers, practically begging her for more. Even though moving at all causes the thorns around your wrists to dig in deeper, you couldn’t care less. Her fingers are all that matter to you right now. You keep repeating her name in your moans, trying to beg her for more but failing as you can’t get more than her name out through the gasping moans.

Soon, you close your eyes and moan louder than ever, leaving you completely gasping and breathless as she brings you to the best orgasm of your life. You feel your whole body go limp. Your head tilts to the side. Some drool falls out of your mouth as she continues gently rocking her fingers inside of you. Several waves of pleasure and tension come in and out of your body. Donna’s gentle use of your body brings you through all of them.

Eventually, you pass out on the floor like that. Used, arms bloodied, and drooling.

The last thing you remember of that night is Donna’s small smile as she unties the vines around your wrists, and starts bandaging them up.

#resident lover #smut #from ao3 #Donna Beneviento/reader #donna beneviento/reader #resident evil

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nutteu · 2 months

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Saltburn Fic Masterpost

Hiya! Just entered the fandom lately. Mostly cattonquick, but we'll see if there's any addition. Will update with each story posted.

[AO3] [series: summer in the dark water] [ideas/ramblings]

the cotton is high

One shot

Rating: T

Words: 2,681

say hallelujah, say goodnight, say it’s never meant for us

Completed

Rating: Explicit

4 chapters

Words: 12,768

desire, like a monster, crawls up out of the lake

Ongoing

Rating: Mature

1 chapter

Words: 4,349

here are my hands (that will hurt your marrow)

Ongoing

Rating: Mature

2 chapters

Words: 3,682

put your palm before the yellow line

One shot

Rating: General

Words: 4,331

the grace of a fickle child

One shot

Rating: General

Words: 3,577

and god would set us asunder (but your sacrilege will save me)

Ongoing

Rating: Mature

3 chapters

Words: 10,487

in these dreams, it was always (never) you

One shot

Rating: Explicit

Words: 12,704

drag the inches along this gravelly road

One shot

Rating: General

Words: 1,246

#shiki writes #from ao3 #Saltburn 2023 #cattonquick #felix x oliver #oliver quick #felix catton #masterlist #saltburn

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redeyeingirs · 2 months

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Heyo

It's not that I do this super often, I have quite a lot of work and my own projects right now, the university is eating all the nerves out of me. However, here's something for one fanfiction that pleasantly surprised, heh. To be honest, I haven't seen fanfiction on the "The Thing" fandom before, although I like the movie. In general, here are some gifts for @pixienohken

Tw: blood, oke?

A version of the little goblin with and without snow

Jayluf makes claws

Something else

bug woman

I'm done here

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kat-writes · 12 days

Link

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Captain America - All Media Types Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Dot Characters: James "Bucky" Barnes, Steve Rogers Additional Tags: Artist Steve Rogers, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Dot is their beard, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Art Block, The Hobbit References, The Hobbit J.R.R. Tolkien Summary:

Bucky tries to comfort Steve through a bit of art block and work stress.

#flash fiction #from ao3 #fanfiction #steverogers #buckybarnes #stevebucky #stucky #pre serum steve #artist steve rogers

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vorkosigankinkmeme · 9 months

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Aral meets Taura, develops an instant crush (she is the ultimate soldier ;>)

#vkm prompts #from ao3 #taura #aral vorkosigan #vorkosigan saga #vorkosigan kink meme

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elvain · 1 year

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me and who when

#from ao3 #mk.post #BRUHHH so happy for whoever that is tho

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voids-hyperfixating-again · 1 year

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Flame Point

Touya didn't think before he leapt into action.

Didn't feel the rush of air and the sting in his staples as he ran towards the duo.

Didn't even hear the sound of the kids and the teens screaming.

A flash of blue was suddenly in his vision, and he could make out the crumbling building.

OR: Touya's accident happens earlier, he wakes up in that hospital sooner and escapes sooner

He ends up being at the right place at the right time and saves Shirakumo from dying.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/42667725/

Ch 1: Heroic heart

Somewhere out there, a thirteen year old Touya Todoroki ran to his house, years after he 'died', still in hospital gowns and halfway healed burns covering his skin. There, he witnessed through a window as his father trained his baby brother to become the next Number 1 Hero. So, in his mind, he saw that his family didn't even miss him or care that he was gone.

Somewhere out there, he became bitter, heartbroken, and filled with hatred.

That's where Touya blamed his brother for replacing him.

That's where Touya became Dabi.

But right here, right now, there was a noise.

Touya slowed down for a moment, the flutter of the uncomfortable hospital gown stopping just as abruptly as he did.

The first time, he wasn't sure he heard it right, but then, he did.

"Meow"

The noise came from a cat nearby.

It was orange, too round and clean to be a street cat. The cat was young, just barely crossing the line between "kitten" and "cat".

It's name tag read 'Sushi', and if cats had expressions, Sushi's was frantic.

"Meeeeeeeow!"

The cat demanded, tail moving back and forth in irritation.

Didn't cats only meow at kittens and humans?

When Touya didn't see any kittens, he realized that the cat wanted him specifically.

"You want help."

He pointed out.

Instead of answering him, the cat turned it's back and started running somewhere.

Touya ran after it, noticing how after a while, the air started to smell grimy.

He felt a sudden tingly feeling, a buzz along his jaw and arms.

The metallic scent of electricity still hung in the air, and he found himself following it without needing to look for the young cat.

His arms still buzzed and his chest felt tight as he ran.

A sudden energy blast knocked him off of his feet, and he closed his eyes on instinct.

The noise of more blasts and loud yells assaulted his ears, the smell of smoke and ash lingered in the air, making him cough a few times. He opened his eyes, and as soon as he did, they felt dry from the amount of dust that was stirred up every time there was movement.

It didn't take long before he realized what that movement was.

He gulped as he watched people who had weird outfits fight someone with bulges on their back.

He then watched as the person recklessly released one of those bulges. Instead of a blast, it seemed like... A yell?

Then, white obscured his vision and he felt himself being dragged.

"Let go- mph!" He struggled against whatever it was. When light entered his vision again, someone in dark clothing and a scarf stood in front of him.

"Kid, stay here." The person in front of him told him.

He didn't know ages very well, but they seemed like an older teenager.

He noticed that next to him were kids Shoto's age, all of which were scared out of their minds.

He vaguely felt that he was not being held in the weird scarf anymore.

Two similar looking kids were hugging each other and crying, a few had obvious injuries. He didn't know why they were getting so worked up about this, it was just a villain fight.

One boy out of the little kids was staring at something in the fight intensely.

Touya followed his gaze, and a boy the same age as the others laid on the ground, with his leg stuck under a large rock.

Purplish blue hair messy the little boy was trying to use his quirk. Little specks of dust were flying around him in a circle, orbiting around him, getting closer and closer. He closed his eyes, concentrating.

A much older boy, one of the hero-looking teens, was using a metal stick thing to lift it up.

It was going very slow for some reason, like the rock was being pulled into the opposite direction of where the teen wanted it.

A building near them looked like it was going to crash on top of them at any moment. The fight had destroyed it, and the kid's activated quirk wasn't making it fall any slower.

Touya didn't think before he leapt into action.

Didn't feel the rush of air and the sting in his staples as he ran towards the duo.

Didn't even hear the sound of the kids and the teens screaming.

A flash of blue was suddenly in his vision, and he could make out the crumbling building.

His ready damaged nerves screamed hot, hot, hot, his eyes closed to shield themselves from the flame.

Everything went black. Not just because of his eyes, but he didn't know what happened after that moment.

The last thing he knew was heat, and he remembered that it was his own heat.

As he passed out, the reason he was in the hospital to begin with came to his mind.

A goal that was out of reach for someone.

"He has your hair but my eyes"

A means to an end.

"His quirk burns him"

Multiple attempts.

"I will train this weakness out of him"

One, two, three

"REAL HEROES DON'T CRY"

After him, the last attempt was a success.

"He's a perfect mix of both of us"

Training, training so he doesn't get pushed aside like them.

"He will be the perfect successor"

Training, training, so his stupid brother won't replace him and get praised instead of him.

"I can do it too, I can surpass him."

Training, training, so his little brother doesn't get burned instead of him.

"No, dad, look at me!"

I won't die again.

I WON'T DIE AGAIN!

Touya woke up with a start.

A room that smelt vaguely of disinfectant greeted him. At first, the white walls scared him. He didn't want to be in another hospital.

But the room was a bit more lively than that. A medical school certificate addressed to "Chiyo Shuzenji" hung on the wall.

A few pictures of a heroine and some news articles.

Unknowingly, the touch of something personal, even if it wasn't his, calmed his beating heart.

This wasn't a mindless hospital room he'd be sent to only to get blamed for his father's burns.

This wasn't where they'll ask him what happened and only believe his lies.

That was until a very medical looking old woman pulled back the curtain apparently separating him from her...and those 3 teenagers.

The Reckless blue one looked relieved as fuck, the blond one looked relieved but...sad? Guilty?

The third one looked like the expression he saw in the mirror sometimes - supposedly nonchalant but hiding something else. He looked over their outfits, noting that they'd been replaced by school uniforms - UA? He was supposed to go to that school in a few years.

"The kid's awake!"

The blue one yelled.

The blond's head turned to him, and so did the Black haired person's.

One visibly sighed with relief, one's shoulders appeared slightly less tense.

Touya frowned, pushing his lips forward (NOT a pout!) before he spoke.

"I'm not a kid"

He complained.

"I'm already 11!"

He held up two 1s to show he was in fact eleven, but that apparently wasn't a good idea.

The blue one smiled and covered his mouth, the doctor (?) and the other two seemed skeptical, especially the black haired one.

"You look 8."

"And you look ugly."

The older teenager looked at Touya with a stunned face and Touya shrunk back, but clenched his fist. Black hair wouldn't hit him when there's people watching, right?

But then, there didn't seem to be any sort of anger or anything on his face. He almost seemed...amused by the insult?

"Stop insulting each other. What I want to know is why you apparently jumped in front of a falling building and burned not just it but yourself to crisp"

Thankfully the woman either didn't notice or didn't want to mention the older scars on his body.

"I used my quirk since you were already passed out, but you ended up asleep for the entire rest of the day and half of today!"

Touya looked sheepish and nodded like he knew how her quirk worked.

She did scold him though.

"I just I wanted to save. I...I wasn't thinking.

I didn't even know I was moving until I saw my fire."

The woman looked like she heard that sentence a million times, and she just sighed.

"I've heard that one before. But... Your own safety is important too. You have a heroic heart, but you need to control your instincts."

You have a heroic heart, but you need to control your instincts.

You have a heroic heart.

You can be a hero.

Touya filtered out all words but those. By the time they stopped repeating in his brain, the teens were talking again.

"The pot calling a kettle black, Shouchan. Recovery Girl literally has a picture of yyou titled Favourite Problem Child right there"

The blond pointed to a picture frame.

Touya now remembered the name, Recovery Girl.

Right, the youthful heroine.

"That was because I broke mine and Oboro's arm during our fight at the festival, not almost inciner-"

"Can I just leave now? I feel fine, and I slept enough." He interrupted them, turning to Recovery Girl.

Her expression could only be described as flabbergasted.

"There is absolutely no way you're leaving like this, young man. Your skin is still red all over."

"What? How long do I have to stay? I need to go."

Recovery Girl got something out of a cabinet and gave it to him.

"Here, burn cream. Apply this, and I'll call your parents to pick you up tomorrow"

Touya's eyes widened when his parents were mentioned. Only Father was in a position to actually pick him up, and if he did, Touya might as well just have burned himself.

He could already see it - getting scolded, being told to stop trying to play hero, (even though that's all he wanted to do since he was a child) and of course, the punishment.

He knew suddenly agreeing would be suspicious of him. He had practice in lying though.

"Noooo... I wanna go back out!" He complained, making sure to not drag out the words too much.

"You need to rest, dude!" The blond said this time and Touya stuck his tongue out at him.

To really sell the point, he decided to attempt to get up, but something soft just pushed him back.

The blue haired one's hand fell down, and the cloud that pushed him disappeared.

He genuinely glared at Cloud boy, who grinned at him in return.

"Sorry, doctor's orders. You gotta stay until tomorrow."

Touya rolled his eyes, crossing his arms.

"Why are you even here? I don't know you. It's not like watching me sleep sounds appealing." He wondered out loud. Those teens were annoying him.

"We wanted to make sure you'd be okay!"The blond one said immediately.

"'Cause I passed out from a little burn? I've had worse burns and survived, this is nothing." (Not survived)

He didn't like the way everyone in the room looked at him in response to that, so he looked away.

"Your skin was falling off." Scarf boy said firmly, making him look up again.

"The only reason that you, Oboro, and the kid came out of this alive is because the kid's quirk was moving the flames away from your face at that point."

Touya looked down at his bandaged hands. He could recognize when he was being scolded for being a the failure, at least.

He's supposed to be able to defeat a threat on his own, not with help from others. And his skin was still weak.

"Fine, I'm staying" Touya finally said, and this time he didn't have to pretend.

He'd be fine, as long as Father didn't find out about his failure.

All he had to do was get to the manor before Recovery Girl can call.

#my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha #bnha #touya todoroki #todoroki touya #dabi #touya is a good brother #oboro lives #shirakumo lives #touya lives #bnha fanfiction #fanfic #fic #from ao3

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tototavros · 2 years

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#terra ignota #from ao3

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anarchy-n-glitter · 1 year

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ℌ𝔞𝔭𝔭𝔦𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔫 𝔈𝔳𝔢𝔯

Alice Gray is back for the time being... she has no idea what's in store for her when she catches the silver eye of a certain killer.

PART 1

CHAPTER 1

It happened again.

There she was, sorting through their laundry on one of her days off, only to find one of his shirts with odd stains on it again. With a frustrated groan she put it to the side, debating whether or not she would even bother bringing it up; it’s not like he’d give her an actual answer. Every time she did bring up the odd little things she’d find here and there he’d shut down almost immediately, insulting her, accusing her, then ignoring her. It was tiring and frustrating because she just wanted to know what was going on. She loved him but sometimes he treated her less like a partner and more like a pet, which she was not going to settle for.

It wasn’t like she was scared of him when he went into those little moods, it was just that he was one of the last people she had left in her life. Her sister loved to ignore her, so naturally she got sick of it and cut her out of her life, and her job seemed to need her less and less lately seeing as the actual observational period on an endangered species of bat came to a close. She wasn’t allowed to go on the expedition to bring a few back to a sanctuary but she didn’t really want to in the first place. This was one of the first times she felt happy at home - for the most part - and she was getting married soon. One could say she should’ve been happier than ever.

Then why was she filled with so much dread when he was around - especially after she finds these things?

⧪⧪⧪⧪⧪

It was so loud in that restaurant. Between the overly excited children and the large animatronics singing on stage it was hard to focus.

Alice Gray was a short woman with a quick wit, with red hair that matched the color of velvet and often looked like it needed to be brushed and grey doe-like eyes. She often wore dark colors, mostly blacks and greys, though occasionally she would wear deep reds or violets. Her style was unconventional for the time, and it seemed to get her a few stares from strangers. She had few friends, aside from Andy from work and her sister, Eleanor. Alice, despite feeling like she had everything she could have wanted, she couldn’t deny she was lonely. Across from her sat her sister, who held her son on her lap. They had been chatting nonchalantly about life, and as Eleanor went on and on about Julian - her husband - and how she was dealing with her now four years old son, Alice couldn’t help but realize that she was lonely.

She didn’t relate to Eleanor, and after her sister’s marriage into the much wealthier Cardois family, the rift between the two seemed to worsen. She cared for her sister, yes, but as they got older and as they lived their lives, they drifted apart. Eleanor was nearly thirteen years older than Alice, so her earliest memories of her sister were from before she left for college. Alice would argue that she was closest to her brother Mario, but that was a long time ago. It was before the accident.

Maxwell, her nephew, struggled in his mother’s embrace, wanting to wander toward the stage with the other children. This was one of the first times Alice had actually witnessed her nephew wanting to be around other kids - he was normally so shy, and instead of wandering off on his own he would drag his mother or father along with him. Sometimes he would even drag Alice off, but she didn’t mind, she loved him as if he were her own child.

“Max, sweetie, sit still okay? Mommy’s talking.” Maxwell ignored his mother’s pleas as he hopped off of her lap, wandering off anyway much to Eleanor’s dismay. The blonde looked up at her sister.

“I don’t want him wandering around here alone, it’s not safe.” She said as she stood, grabbing her bag. “I’ll be right back, I promise.”

“I’m gonna head to the bathroom, actually. I drank this way too fast.” Alice said as she shook her cup, the ice inside rattling around loudly. Her sister disappeared in a matter of seconds, and that gave her a moment to breathe.

It’s not safe. Alice wondered what that meant. This was a children’s place so she assumed it would have better security than other places, though to be fair if there was an incident that occurred there, she probably wouldn’t have known seeing as she was so invested in her work that she didn’t pay attention to the news or anything like that. As a matter of fact, she could go weeks at a time without going home, so naturally she wouldn’t know what was going on in town half the time.

She stopped in her tracks about halfway to the restrooms after noticing a man standing between the men and women’s doors. The man was thin and pale, with brown hair that was nearly as unkempt as hers. He was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, staring at the stage with a blank face, but there was a sharp look in his eye. He might’ve looked like he was staring off into space, but he was focused on something. She approached him slowly, unsure of what he was even doing over there. As she got closer, she noticed the name tag on his lavender shirt, though she wasn’t able to read it from her angle.

“Is the bathroom broken or something?” She asked, catching him off guard.

“Huh? Oh - no - they’re fine, you can go in.” His voice was calm and deep and he spoke with an accent. He barely looked at her when he spoke. She assumed he was a security guard who was just trying to do his job, and if this place “wasn’t safe” like her sister said then Alice could see why he was so focused.

“Um, okay.” She slipped past him, glancing back at the strange man before she shut the door. Once inside, she rushed to the sinks, glancing at herself in the mirror before running the water and splashing some on her face. The bathrooms had an unnatural glow to it, with old fluorescent light bulbs that gave off a blue-ish green light. The tiles were the same black and white as outside, though the white appeared to be more grey, and the stalls were red. The mirror she was staring into had the residue of old stickers that looked like there was an attempt to remove them.

Just looking around at the place she knew she’d missed a lot. She remembered the grand opening of the pizzeria, but she’d been in and out of the state several times since then. She came back for important events of course, like her sister giving birth to Maxwell, and his first birthday, but for the most part she was gone as the city grew into itself. The fact that the pizzeria that was once so new not only looked aged but had some sort of reputation was new to her.

She needed to wake up, to clear her head, and to find an excuse to leave. She found that entertaining her sister and nephew for an afternoon after months of being away was just as exhausting as she thought. However, if she just told her sister that she was heading home without inviting her to go with her then Eleanor would get upset, so she had to think.

She could say she was sick. She could say she puked and tell her she had to get home. It wasn’t too out of the ordinary for her considering she had a sensitive stomach. It didn’t matter if she ate too much or too little, sometimes she would just feel nauseous. Resting her head in her palm as she continued to stare at herself in the mirror, taking note of her dark circles and new bags under her eyes. She hadn’t slept well in a few weeks, with her first full night of rest coming the day before when she finally came home.

The door swung open suddenly, causing her to jump. She looked at the man who walked in as if she were a deer in headlights, but it wasn’t because she was doing anything wrong. His steel-colored eyes bore into hers and goosebumps ran up her arms. Something was wrong, but she couldn’t quite figure it out.

“Sorry, you were in here a while and I’m supposed to make sure people don’t do drugs in the bathrooms.” He stated calmly, letting go of the door. Alice watched it swing closed, and although she was still a bit nervous, she let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

“No, I just uh,” she looked back at the sink and rubbed her wet hands on her skirt, “I got sick and…” She fell silent. Her voice was hoarse as it was, probably from arguing with Eleanor and her mother the day before, but it helped her case, he seemed to believe her.

He said he was just making sure she wasn’t doing anything illegal, which if he was a security guard then it would make sense, right? She didn’t like the fact that she was cornered, though, and small fact was setting off her fight or flight.

“Are you alright? Do you need me to walk you out or anything?” His concern seemed genuine, like a switch was flipped within him. If a security guard was helping her out of the restaurant saying she was sick, her sister would believe that, right?

“Can you?” She asked in a hushed tone, to which he smiled. He held the door open, letting her walk out first before following close behind her. She was still a bit on edge, and practically feeling his breath on the back of her neck wasn’t helping.

“Are you here with someone?” He asked her lowly. Alice nodded immediately and enthusiastically, trying to shake that uneasy feeling deep down.

“My sister and my nephew. I gotta say bye before I go.” She told him as she pointed to them, continuing to move in the direction of her family. He hummed to himself at this.

“Ah, I see them. I’ll be here, go on.” He spoke to her as if she were a child, which she supposed wasn’t that odd considering he worked at a children’s establishment, but it was almost grating. She wasn’t sure what to make of him yet, and she wondered if her nerves around him were due to her brain being fried by lack of sleep and over working.

Eleanor spotted her sister moving towards her through the crowd and perked up, a smile spreading on her face. Alice fidgeted with her skirt again as she stopped in front of them.

“Hey, I’m not feeling that great, I gotta head home. I went into the bathroom and nearly passed out.” She lied as she hugged Eleanor.

“Oh my god, Alice! Are you alright? Is this because you didn’t eat, I told you that you needed to eat something or you’d end up repeating last christmas at mom’s-”

“I’m fine, Ellie, it just happens sometimes. I’m sorry I couldn’t stay longer.” There was a pause for a moment and she assumed Eleanor was thinking of what to say. She couldn’t see that her sister’s amber eyes were fixed on the guard who was patiently waiting by the door. The blonde’s instincts were telling her not to trust him and to get her son out of there as quickly as possible.

“Come on, I’ll go with you. I think Maxwell’s getting tired anyway.” The child looked up at his mother faster than lightning strikes.

“No I’m not.” He whined, sitting back down on the floor, this time facing his mother. Eleanor shot a glance at the guard, then back to Maxwell.

“Well mommy is, come on Maxie.” She took his hands in hers and helped lift him up. That was one thing Alice liked about her nephew, he was very well behaved. When his mother told him it was time to leave, he listened, if Alice wanted to be left alone, he’d leave her alone.

They headed toward the front of the pizzeria, with Eleanor leading and Maxwell trailing closely behind her. Alice was left almost by herself as the suddenly cautious mother stormed out of the restaurant.

“I guess she wanted out too, huh?” It was him again, looking just as cold and nonchalant as he did by the bathrooms. Alice was barely out the door when he finally looked at her again.

“Yeah she said she was tired.” There was a brief moment of silence between the two as he nodded in acknowledgment. She fought to find the right words to say and pondered whether she should say anything at all. “Thanks for helping me back there-” She squinted as she attempted to read his nametag, “Mr. Afton.”

That name sounded familiar.

“It’s no problem.” His answer was short again, and she assumed he had better to do than talk with her, and she wanted to get home and sleep. With one last glance at him and a small nod, Alice left the building, and immediately she felt a great pressure lifted from her.

Eleanor’s car was gone, but that didn’t bother her quite as much as she thought it would, she was sure she’d hear from her again later that night when she inevitably called.

Alice got into her car and got settled, taking a moment to breathe yet again as she realized she was free to go home and not worry about anything. No research papers to go through, no company to entertain, just her and the tv for a bit. As she got ready to pull out of the parking lot she failed to notice the guard watching her over his shoulder.

#fnaf fanfic #fnaf fandom #five nights at freddy's #william afton #william afton x reader #william afton x oc #william afton x you #fanfic #fanfiction #from AO3 #fnaf x oc #fnaf x reader #fnaf x you #fnaf

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boomboxfic · 1 year

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Law & Order Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Shambala Green & Ben Stone, Ben Stone/Shambala Green Characters: Ben Stone (Law & Order), Shambala Green Additional Tags: Comfort Sex, Episode Related, Ben Stone needs a hug, Smut Summary:

„Are you trying for the pitiful look or are you really this beat?“

Wanna try my hand at sharing fic that I come across that I enjoy. Maybe I’ll do this every Sunday. :) I’ll just dig into my fanfic bookmarks and share one. A lot of them will be L&O, but there will be a good variety of non-L&O fic. Also, not just smut, haha.

Anyway! On to this rec:

I know I write a staggering amount of Ben Stone/Mike Logan fic, but truth be told, I love anything with them in it, even if they’re not paired.

I don’t think I could ever pull it off, but if I could, I’d write Shambala Green and Ben Stone. There are some out there, and they are quite good. I do love when things go spicy, though. They are few and far between.

There was a fic I found a while ago through Internet Archive called Adversarial Improprieties (or something like that) that was excellently written. Sadly, I don’t think the page exists anymore. I kick myself for not archiving it. Anyway, that was M-rated Shambala/Ben and it was great. This fic by Murmeltierchen on AO3 is the closest damn thing I found to that now-lost fic, and it is SO GOOD. They are both very much true to character and it is lovely.

#this is excellent #Shambala Green/Ben Stone #author: murmeltierchen #from AO3 #Boombox's Sunday Fan Fic Rec

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greyias · 2 years

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When you really like a Discord server, but literally one person is so obnoxious in it that blocking them isn’t enough, you have to mute the whole server.

#i really like this server #like everyone but this ONE person is enthusiastic and supportive and has good advice #but i might leave after the challenge is over #because this ONE person is so obnoxiously negative #and constantly is complaining about literally everything #and derails every conversation to insert a contrary opinion #from ao3 #to when the rest of the group is enthusiastically discussing how they like feedback #but most obnoxiously to passive aggressively put down all of the methods and writing resources the mod has put together #and literally @'s and argues with anyone who is discussing fast drafting #and basically shuts the discussions and conversations down #and THEN finds ways to shit on it when the discussion isn't even about that #it's like #we get it you don't like the method can you please shut up about it now?

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mylittleredgirl · 1 year

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even if you're not a supernatural fan, if you've been on tumblr long enough you are, like, culturally. like cultural christianity in america except it's the cw's supernatural. you may never have watched an episode or set foot inside the tag but your regular life shuts down on their holidays and all of your world news is delivered through that point of view. something to think about

#while i'm making equivalences we could look at the comparable impacts of the bible on the western literary canon and supernatural on ao3 #edited to add: y'all i have never seen supernatural either that's the post #yes my brain has been rotted by this fandom but the call is coming from outside the house #that tumblr lyfe #containment breach #spn

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nutteu · 7 months

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withered daisies

[AO3] [prequel] [moonsea series]

In the last battle, Steven fell into the crack of a vortex. What—or, rather, who—emerged was something they couldn’t expect.

Or, the one where Steven got switched with a version of him who married a slightly less bonker Arthur Harrow. [Arthur/Steven; crack; published 2022-06-09; word count: 3,804]

“Oh, my days, what a mess,” was the first thing a stranger wearing Steven Grant’s face said as he looked around at the destruction around him; face furrowed, yet Marc could see that it wasn’t the familiar fear that Steven usually sported. This man merely looked like it was a small inconvenience rather than a full-blown battle between humanity and gods.

“Steven?” he tried to call out, cautious and distrustful all at once, because this man—he looked like Steven, sounded like him, even his curls were as messy. But his body language was so different that it was jarring to see, lax and unperturbed by the chaos surrounding them.

“Yep, that’s me, Steven,” the stranger said, smiling a little dryly. “Not yours, though. I’m pretty sure there’s no gigantic crocodile lady and a skeletal bird in my world. I’d notice.”

“What—” Marc tried to say, but Jake shoved past him and strode towards Not-Steven before he could think of a rational explanation to what was currently happening.

“Who are you,” Jake growled out, grip tight around the fistful of shirt he could get ahold of from the stranger in front of him. “Where is he?”

“So rude,” Steven tutted, closing his fingers around Jake’s fist and wrenched away from him easily, effortlessly, as if Jake wasn’t one-hundred-and-sixty pounds of pure muscles and fury. His steps were light, head tilting to the side a little. “Jake,” he said, nodding to himself, then glanced at Marc. “Marc,” he continued. He eyed where Layla was still fighting a few feet away from them. “Not sure who that lady is, but she’s cool.”

“You know us?” Marc asked, a little surprised by this revelation. He didn’t even know why. It was just that the man was clearly not Steven, or even from this world—or even the goddamn universe, now that he thought about it. If old gods existed and were now fighting Kong vs Godzilla style above them, then surely an entirely different universe than his own existed as well.

“You two are my little brothers, of course I know you,” Not-Steven said, smiling gently at him. It was so similar to Steven’s that it made Marc’s head spin a little. He was thoroughly baffled, and starting to realize that this really wasn’t the right time to be introduced to a different version of his alter from another dimension.

“It doesn’t matter,” Jake cut them off, warily inching away from Steven. His stare was then directed straight at Harrow, who was starting to regain his consciousness after the pure energy from his cane had blasted him and his henchmen several yards away. The same vortex of energy that Steven had fallen into, only to be replaced by this strange imitation of him. “Lunatic over there is starting to wake up. If you can’t fight, then you better find somewhere to hide. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to take my chances—if you die here, that idiot might die too.”

Steven looked at him, eyes sharp and alight. “Oh, you’re definitely not his brother, then,” he deduced, smile a little secretive this time. “I know my Jake won’t talk about me with such… ferocity, if you will.”

“Not your goddamn business, Grant,” Jake snapped out, suddenly defensive in the face of Not-Steven’s implication.

“It’s Grant-Harrow, actually,” Not-Steven then replied, laughing a little at Marc’s and Jake’s perplexed faces. “I’m married. I’m no longer Steven Grant-Spector. But sure, you can call me Grant, to avoid confusion if nothing else, I suppose.”

Despite the battle brewing around them, there was a sudden, visceral silence ringing in their ears after Grant had spoken. Marc’s heartbeat seemed to pause for a long eternity. He couldn’t find his voice, and neither could Jake, as it turned out. His face was confused as to what emotion he should convey—confusion, sheer horror, resignation, or just flat-out incredulity.

“What the fuck,” he whispered before his brain could catch up. Incredulity it was, then. He exchanged glances with Jake, who looked torn between showing utter disgust and anger—and jealousy, even if Marc knew that Jake would rather gut someone with his bare hands than to admit it.

“Do you have a gun?” Grant said instead. “Or do I get fancy weapons and costumes like you guys do?”

“Suit,” Jake replied gruffly. “We’re the knights of Khonshu. You can summon a suit to protect yourself and fight with.”

“Yeah, I’m afraid I don’t really know how to do that, mate,” Grant replied with a wry smile. “May I borrow your weird moon-shaped thingy, Marc?”

“What?” he said dumbly, then forced his brain to kickstart when there was a bullet whizzing past him, only missing his ear by scant inches. He quickly took two of his crescent darts and threw them at Grant, who grasped at them mid-air, clenching them tightly between his fingers as if he had wielded such things for all his life. “Incapacitate everyone on sight, but our target is- is—”

Grant turned to look at Harrow, marching along with the other Ammit’s followers, eyes furious despite his disheveled state. Grant sighed. “Arthur. Yes, I can see that,” he said with no small amount of dismay. “Oh, love, I always knew you’d end up being a mess if you didn’t marry me.”

“Cease your non-sense,” Jake growled out as he punched someone’s nose until a crack resounded into the night. “It’s kill everyone on sight. And—”

“Don’t die,” Grant finished, his legs forming into a stance. “I know. I’ll speak to you later, Jake.”

Then he was off, bulleting through the throng of masses with incredible agility and flexibility, dodging attacks and launching his own right off the bat, without even a second to pause or to ponder about the situation he was suddenly dragged into. The way he moved, it was the way someone who was well-versed in fighting would look like, Marc noticed. He recognized some of the fighting style through his own experience in the military, but the rest of it was a culmination of several cultures that he was a stranger to.

This Steven, whoever he was, wherever he came from, was a fighter. He wasn’t their gift-shopper, Egyptian geek, accident-prone extraordinaire Steven. He was quick on his feet, sharp with his movements, never stopping for a moment before he struck. He fought like he was dancing with the reaper, with ease and frightening viciousness born from experience and understanding that morals and kindness had little to do in life-or-death situations.

Steven could fight, and he wasn’t bad at it, if slightly not used to the practical appliance of violence. But he wasn’t born to fight, and Marc knew that if he was given the chance, Steven would rather use diplomatic methods than his fists. Grant, however, felt like someone born from war, with the way he wielded violence so efficiently, didn’t hold back for such things like sympathy and regards of human’s life. Perhaps, he still had that kindness, because his eyes were honest when he smiled at Marc, but he had understood that these were enemies, and thus, it was kill on sight.

It was terrifying and exhilarating all at once, to witness him fighting alongside them.

Layla was briefly pushed into a fight near Marc, and threw him a confused glance at the suit-less, vicious Steven. He shook his head. “It’s not Steven,” he told her. “Not sure where he comes from, but it’s definitely not from this universe. He’s on our side, thankfully.”

“Oh, thank God, because I definitely don’t want to fight that,” Layla said, a whisper of fear and wariness seeping into her voice as they watched Grant choke a man with one hand, and bury the crescent dart into another’s eye. He was covered in blood and small nicks, but he stood tall and sure amongst the carnage he left behind. It was akin to seeing a merciless god amongst humans.

“Let’s just hope he doesn’t try to reenact his romance with Harrow here as well,” Marc said, worrying now that the possibility presented itself in his mind. “Don’t think I can outfight him, and Jake will cut my head off I ever made a scratch on Steven, even if this one is a knock-off brand from killer factory.”

Layla laughed, sincerity warding off the unease on her face. “Be careful,” she said with a tight smile, then took off into another horde of Ammit’s followers.

“Steven Grant,” Marc heard Harrow say, regarding the familiar stranger who had decimated all of his henchmen, and was now walking slowly towards him, a gun he had acquired on one hand, the other still clutching the dart. “Or, perhaps, you might want to be called by something else. I never considered that the power Ammit has bestowed upon me would include a dimensional portal.”

“You can call me Steven,” Grant said with a smile. It was eerie to see; mostly because it was partially genuine, yet interjected with such coldness that made even Jake pause in his steps. “I doubt that you’d be willing to call me sweetheart, seeing that we are clearly not married in this world. But you’re also welcomed to call me that.”

“Curious,” Harrow said, eyes glinting with something that Marc definitely didn’t like. “A dimension where I nurture a romantic relationship with you. How is it like?”

“It’s nice,” Grant said, and his voice softened. “You’re a psychiatrist with a side job of chewing my ears off about Egyptian mythology. Very fond of monologues and will fuck me against the kitchen counter in the morning before you go to work. Romantic, innit?”

Marc nearly choked on his saliva, and even if Jake’s face was covered by the mask of his costume, he could see the snarl on the man’s face. He didn’t like sharing, that was for sure, no matter which Steven they were talking about. It should make Marc worry, this clear possessiveness and over-protectiveness that Jake had towards Steven. But then again, it wasn’t like he himself didn’t try to hold Steven’s hand with every step he took in fear that the man would stumble and fall flat on his face. He didn’t have any ground to walk on in this matter.

“Very,” Harrow said, tone now cautious from how brazen Grant had been. “And you? Still… ah, a gift-shopper in a museum over there?”

“Love,” Grant said, and he sounded so fond even in his exasperation. “I killed your men without losing a limb, what do you think?” They were walking in circles, slow and sure in their steps; eyeing and gauging the other’s reaction, waiting for the right time to attack. Marc sure hoped it wasn’t to kiss or something equally horribe. He had a feeling that this Steven wouldn’t completely cross that from the list of possibilities. “I’m an ex-mercenary,” Grant continued, much to Marc’s and Jake’s surprise. “Well, kind of an ex. I still work under Mr. K to divest pesky twats. But I do like going to the museums, if only to accompany my husband.”

“A hired gun,” Harrow laughed a little. “Very surprising, considering how… delicate you look.”

“I do look very pretty, don’t I?” Grant replied cheekily. “You told me that several times a day. Well, the other you who married me, not this weird you who apparently have an affair with a crocodile lady.”

There was clear curiosity in Harrow’s face, then, replacing the fury and the bloodthirst. Marc took that as a good sign, because now the man was distracted and they could focus on cleaning the horde of enemies instead of dealing with Harrow and his weird cane. “And he’s okay with what you’re doing?”

“My husband has a warped view of the world. Just like you, it seems,” Grant said, shrugging a little. “He means well, and he treats his patients well, mind you. But the matters of the intricacy of human’s thoughts and morals intrigue him to no end. One of his patients escaped from the psychiatric ward and kidnapped me, once. Tortured me a bit before I could kill him. Oh, you wouldn’t believe how long Arthur questioned me while tending to my wounds. All that stuff about motives and human’s inherent bloodthirst.”

“Curious,” Harrow repeated. “Are you going to kill me as well, then, sweetheart?”

“Oh, doll, you don’t even know what’s coming,” Grant said, and darted forward faster than Harrow could anticipate. The kick he landed on the man’s chest sent him sprawling on the ground, heaving coughs. Marc winced inwardly; that must have been one hell of a kick. “Despite what my brothers said, I can perfectly differentiate between my work and my marriage. And though some of my affection extends to you, as you are also Arthur Harrow, it doesn’t mean I will neglect my job here.”

Harrow laughed, something low and bordering on hysteria. He thrust his cane forward, sending a wave of brilliant purple towards Grant. Marc growled and turned on his heels. No matter how strong this Steven was, he couldn’t possibly match a supernatural power. But Jake was there earlier than him, shielding Grant with his cape.

“Shut your trap, will you?” Jake said, threats imminent in his voice. “This isn’t some sort of twisted slow dance between you and him. You could die if you’re not careful, tonto!”

Grant looked up at him from his crouch. “Thank you,” he said, sincere and soft. “Steven is very lucky to have you and Marc by his side.”

“I said shut your—” Jake didn’t have a chance to finish his sentence before Grant took ahold of his spear, pushing him out of the way when Harrow charged from behind them.

The cane and the spear clanged against one another. Harrow grinned maniacally, and Grant looked so unbearably fond that Marc wanted to gag a little. “It’s a bit weird to see you without your silly little ‘tache and glasses,” Grant said, swiveling on his heels as Jake partook in the fight. He parried off another wave of energy from the cane, quicker on his feet now that he knew what to look out for. “The long hair isn’t that bad, and I see that the two of you have certain fondness for the sandals. My husband wears them to work, too. But, really, darling, lose the outfit. It’s hideous. If you were my husband, I’d threaten you with divorce in a heartbeat.”

“Heartbreaking,” Harrow said, breathing heavily through his nose. “I sure hope your husband wouldn’t mind having his spouse dead in another dimension.”

“Arthur,” Grant called out steadily, voice hard, as Jake finally strangled the cane off Harrow’s hands, locking him in a chokehold. Grant’s steps were heavy as he inched closer to where Harrow was struggling. He tipped the cane lying on the ground with one of his feet, catching it steadily and turning it to the axe point.

Marc slashed off someone’s throat and ran towards them, weapons drawn. They were so close to ending this madness, and it was only through sheer strength of will that he didn’t back away when he saw the way Grant’s eyes glinted with something sharp and ominous. Every single part of Marc’s body was screaming danger, because that was what Grant was. A storm razing the ground with certainty and measured cruelty; unstoppable, revered.

Grant stopped in front of the kneeling Harrow, who was kicked down from his struggle to get up by Marc. Jake’s spear was thrown towards him, as Grant crouched down to caress the side of Harrow’s face. His voice was soft; a siren’s call, waiting to drown them into the bottom of the ocean, where all the rotting bodies lay. “Arthur,” he called out again. “I’m not going to die, and I will return to my husband. Because today, is your turn to lose.”

Grant’s arm swung with such force that Marc was surprised he didn’t crack open Harrow’s skull. Blood trailed down from the wound, Harrow’s eyes fluttering to grasp at the last grain of his consciousness. Grant caressed his face once more before he straightened himself. His smile was bright when he said, “So! He’s half-dead, and I see that Crocodile Lady and Old Bird are still fighting. What do we do, now?”

Despite his apparent exasperation towards Egyptian mythology, courtesy of the Other-Harrow, Grant still marveled at the Chamber of the Ennead as the three of them and Layla walked inside, with Jake carrying Harrow’s limp figure over his shoulder. He had wanted to drag the man on the ground, but Marc argued that it’d take them way too long. His argument was accepted with a sneer and apparent hatred in Jake’s eyes. He was in evident bad mood after Grant had touched Harrow with such care and affection. Not that Marc himself didn’t want to throw up from the twisted display of tenderness, but he at least retained his common sense.

“Maybe I should pay closer attention to Arthur’s stories,” Grant said after they deposited Harrow on the altar. “See if my world has something like this, too.”

Layla stared at him, and Grant stared back with a sweet smile. She swallowed, evidently still unsettled by how different this Steven was compared to theirs. She then shook her head a little and gestured to the cane still in Grant’s hold. “I might have an idea on how to get you back to your dimension.”

Grant handed over the cane, and Layla motioned for Marc and Jake to come closer so they could each grasp the head of the cane, channeling the gods’ energy in their veins in hope to open another portal so they could send Grant back. Not that this Steven was bad; in contrary, Marc was admittedly fascinated by the possibility that Steven might be able to become just as ruthless, ignoring the obvious letdown of him marrying Harrow. But this Steven wasn’t his, and he wanted his sweet, gentle, sarcastic Steven back. He was starting to worry about that guy, hoping the two Stevens could actually switch back instead of ending up somewhere else in the vast universes.

The crack that resounded through the chamber was loud and clear as the cane hit the ground. A wave of purple spread from the hit point, swirling to form a circle that they all jumped away from. Grant looked at it, then at Harrow, who was still bleeding sluggishly, unconscious. He laughed a little then; a bit wistful, a whole lot amused by the situation. Yeah, Marc thought warily, he definitely wanted his Steven who didn’t think that alleged murders were funny.

“Glad to know that my Arthur is kept in check by my presence,” Grant said, then he looked at them warmly. “It’s nice to meet you all—I love the fancy costumes and weird weapons, by the way. But I hope I’ll never see you guys again. I think Jake will bust out into aneurism if I stay any longer. So, laters, gators!”

Marc chuckled weakly, because even a whole dimension away, Steven Grant still had that fondness of endearingly weird parting remarks. Jake scoffed at his side, but his eyes were trained closely to Grant. Marc knew he was trying to remember every inch of details that he could retain to memory. Any Steven Grant in all the universes had the advantage of lodging themselves so deeply in Jake Lockley’s mind. They closed their hands over the cane again as Grant walked into the circle, waving at them cheerily, and hit it to the ground once more with all their hopes and might.

The swirls of purple rose in a blinding light, enveloping Grant for a moment as they shielded their eyes. When the lights dimmed, and the swirls gently lowered down, Marc couldn’t hold back his relieved laughter at seeing a confused mess of curls and bread crumbs on the sides of shapely lips. It was Steven, their Steven, because Marc could feel the familiar thrum of bond in his bones.

Jake didn’t smile, but the same relief Marc felt was apparent in his mismatched eyes. Layla smiled at them, visibly relaxing in the presence of a Steven Grant that didn’t walk with death billowing on his back like a cape. But Steven, on the other hand, looked absolutely confused, mortified, and scared for his life. He was still holding to a half-eaten donut, the familiar white suit impeccable and fitting on his form.

He dropped the donut as soon as his eyes were trained on the three of them, barreling straight into Marc’s embrace as he talked, rapid fire. “Marc!” he cried out, arms clamoring in their haste to envelope Marc in a tight hug. “Marc, oh, my God! You won’t believe what happened to me!”

Marc looked at Jake, who was slowly inching closer to them and was in the process of attempting a complicated eye-roll. “We can, actually,” he said with a chuckle.

“I- I ended up in a fancy house, yeah?” Steven said, pulling away from the embrace to lean against Jake’s chest, so aware of their presence and ready to fall into their arms. A familiar Steven Grant whom Marc would burn the world for. “And then- and then Harrow showed up! And apparently, we’re married! Married, Marc!” he gave a full body shudder and Layla laughed without restraint behind them. “He kept feeding me food and asking about our world. He probably thought I’m crazy, but he didn’t stop me from talking. And, oh, golly, it’s just so weird seeing him all tender with me. I think he’s crazy. This Harrow, that Harrow, they’re all mad.”

“You talk too much, little dove,” Jake said, an arm slipping around Steven’s waist. Despite him acting like he wasn’t bothered, Marc could feel that Jake was on edge the whole time that Grant was with them, with Steven’s whereabout unknown. “This Steven, that Steven, you all can’t shut up for a second.”

“Wait,” Steven said, swiveling to drape his palms on Jake’s shoulders. “There’s another version of me?”

“The story can wait, boys,” Layla coughed out a small chuckle, tilting his head towards Harrow. “We got a god to seal.”

“Every part of me is screaming that I don’t want to hear about this Steven that replaced me,” Steven grumbled as they walked back towards the altar, forming a circle and grasping each other’s hand. “But, fuck me, I’m curious.”

“He was the one who took Harrow down,” Marc said, just to mess with the man.

Steven’s head snapped towards him. “What?”

He smiled and shook his head. There would be time for stories and Steven losing his head, but for now, as Grant had said before, it was time to bring forward the day when Arthur Harrow lost.

#moon knight #moonsea #shiki writes #from ao3 #marcsteven #jakesteven #harrow/steven #steven grant #marc spector #jake lockley #arthur harrow

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