#i wonder what would happen if i did this with rivulet...

[soaricarus]

wall pouncing is an interesting mechanic

if you do a slide flip/whiplash, you'll keep going upwards in the same direction

if you just slide/roll pounce, then you'll keep bouncing between directions... very interesting. good to note for when i do comp with friends...

#rain world #rainworld #rain world downpour #rainworld downpour #in-game shenanigans #this is probably why my friends fear me #i wonder what would happen if i did this with rivulet... #oh yea this slugcat is scaley. im making a dms pck where i add stuff to scugs because i can so i will

[chadillacboseman]

Regrets

Summary: This was never supposed to happen. Simon did everything in his power to keep you safe. He failed. Reader is gender neutral!

Warnings: Torture, bodily injury.

A/N: Holy shit I actually wrote something for Ghost. I don't particularly care for him myself, but I know others do. So, have a little treat I guess.

--

A fist connects with your cheek, and you feel a hot, coppery taste spring into your mouth. Again, your vision swims, hazy, on the brink of unconsciousness.

Oh, how you wish it would take you. How you wish you could slip into sweet nothingness and let the pain subside for a moment.

Instead, fingers thread into your hair and yank, hard, lifting your face to the gaze of your assailant. The man has dark eyes, narrowed over a black balaclava. He barely speaks your language, and you don't speak his at all.

He's been at this for what feels like hours- but maybe it's only been minutes.

Simon always taught you to never count the time.

"I can do this all day," the man spits the words at you, dripping with vitriol and a thick accent you still can't place.

You don't have what he wants. Truthfully.

Simon never told you anything that could put you at risk. He kept you at arm's length, like a collectible on some high up, dust-covered shelf.

"I don't. Know. Anything," you hiss. Blood patters from your lips as you speak, falling in thick rivulets onto your t-shirt.

Another blow.

This time, it sends the chair you're tied to toppling to the floor. With your arms subdued, you can't break the fall; instead, your face connects with the cold pavement with a sickening whack.

The darkness tries so hard to claim you.

The soldier's boot connects with your ribs and you're torn from the brink of it, wheezing as you feel at least one of your ribs give way with a dull crack that reverberates through your body.

A hand tangles in your hair once more and you're hauled upright, too broken and exhausted to even cry out at the pain.

Another man in a balaclava approaches your interrogator and places a hand on his shoulder. Words are exchanged that you don't understand.

The two of them depart together, leaving you alone in the room. Perhaps they had decided that you were no good to them dead.

You wonder what Simon is doing.

Is he panicking? Is he as calm and collected as always?

Has he decided that this is just an acceptable loss- something that comes with the territory?

You let your head loll back, ignoring the way the pain throbs to life in your temples at the motion. A single, dangling bulb above you burns into your eyes until you see sparks in your vision and have to close them.

You're no soldier. You're not built for this. That you've survived this long surprises even you. But you're at your limit now, and you know it.

You know that Simon is going to blame himself. This might be enough to push him over the edge.

You wish you could tell him you forgive him. That you knew the risks when you chose him, and you would never go back and change it.

The door on the opposite side of the room creaks open and the two men return, this time with a metal cart on wheels.

Your heart takes residence in your throat as you glimpse the blowtorch that rests atop it.

"You know what this is?" Your interrogator holds up a small container, but you can't read the label in the dim light, "White phosphorus."

The glint in his eye tells you that this is bad.

He opens the container and collects what looks like a white paste onto his gloved finger. As he moves toward you, you instinctively recoil, trying desperately to get away, your bindings still holding form.

The interrogator drags a line of the substance down your forearm, about 6 inches in length. It gives off a pungent odor that makes your eyes water as the man gestures for the blowtorch.

The white hot flame ignites and you struggle at your bindings once more, jerking violently in the chair as it moves closer to your arm.

The flame connects with the paste and in an instant it ignites, sizzling to life like a firework.

The pain is almost instant.

It's like nothing you've ever felt before - it makes you shriek until your throat is raw. It feels as if every nerve in your arm is being rended to pieces by a heated claw.

Nausea sets in alongside the pain, threatening to make you relive your breakfast. The two battle until finally pain emerges triumphant and your vision goes black.

--

Simon's boot connects with the door, sending it flying inward as the flimsy frame shatters with the force of his kick.

Soap, Gaz, and Price filter in alongside him, making quick work of the two men in the room.

"Fuck!" Simon's eyes fall on you, slumped in the chair, a tendril of acrid smoke still curling into the air from your arm.

"Go, we'll clear the rest!" Price gestures to you as the three of them make their way out the door.

Your name barely escapes Simon's lips, falling dead in the quiet room. You don't move.

There's so much blood.

He repeats your name again, louder this time as he crosses the room to you. He kneels beside you, feeling the tightness of panic growing in his chest when you don't respond.

Shakily, he feels for a pulse on your wrist. Feels a wave of relief wash over him when he detects it, thready and weak, but there.

"I'm so sorry," he murmurs as his knife makes quick work of the bindings. His words feel like a bandaid placed on a gunshot wound.

How could you ever forgive him for this?

"Simon?" You croak his name out through blood covered lips and he jerks his head up, eyes wild as they find yours.

Seeing your face makes another pang of guilt rip through him- dried blood is caked to your skin and hair, and deep purple bruises have made you almost unrecognizable.

The pain in your arm nearly makes you black out again, but you don't. Holding onto the thread of consciousness to make sure that this is real.

Simon scoops you into his arms gently, but you still whimper in pain as your broken body is lifted from the chair.

He presses his masked forehead to yours, taking a moment to inhale shakily, "This never should have fuckin' happened, I-"

He's interrupted by the arrival of Price, who shuffles over to examine you.

"Shit. It's bad, Simon-"

"I know."

Price brings his radio receiver to his mouth and calls for Nik as you once again flit on the verge of unconsciousness, Simon's masked face swimming in and out of focus.

It takes you once more.

--

The darkness is ever-present, pressing on you like a weighted blanket. Through it, you can hear an incessant beeping, and the muffled sounds of voice you don't recognize.

Your whole body feels heavy, and yet you seem to be floating.

You try so hard to wake up, to open your eyes, to move your hands- anything.

Then a voice you recognize pierces through the darkness- a thick Scottish accent floating somewhere around you.

"Go home, LT. You look like hell," Soap sounds like he's speaking from the end of a tunnel.

"No," Simon's deep voice is closer, less distorted

"They'll call you if there's a change. You sittin' here for days on end won't make a difference."

"Fuck off."

A sigh of exasperation and then footsteps fade into the blackness.

There's a long silence, punctuated by that fucking beeping. You feel a new weight, a hand on yours, rough and calloused, offering a gentle squeeze.

"I don't know if you can hear me," Simon's voice is still close, not quite clear, but there. Reassuring in its familiarity, "I need you to wake up. Please."

You try so hard for him. You really do.

You try to squeeze his fingers, focusing all of your effort into the muscles in your hands.

It doesn't work.

The darkness is too strong, too pressing. The effort you expend trying just drags you back down as if into a deep, black ocean.

Even the beeping fades away.

There's no sense of time wherever you are. Has it been hours? Days?

Weeks?

Simon's voice comes and goes, as does his grip on your hand. Sometimes, other voices come, too.

Gaz. Price. A sweet woman who changes the bandages on your arm and asks Simon if he needs anything.

He always says no.

As time wears on, Simon talks more- he tells you what's happening back home, and lists the people who have asked about you. He describes the flowers that adorn your hospital room, coming from as far as Las Almas with love from Rudy and Alejandro.

He tells you about the guilt he feels for not coming sooner. For letting this happen at all. Promises turn into begging, pleading for you to wake up.

He tells you he cleaned the house to prepare for when you come home. The thought of that makes you feel warm, almost seems to push the darkness away for a moment.

Your hand twitches in his.

"Did you just-" Simon searches your face, looking for a sign that you're awake. He hadn't imagined it, had he?

"Can you hear me?" He is squeezing your hand now, his other hand on your face, "C'mon, do that again. I know you can. I know you're in there."

You want to tell him how hard you're trying.

God, are you trying.

"I felt movement, Johnny," Simon's hand never leaves yours, but his voice moves away from you.

"LT...you need to get some sleep. In your own bed," Soap sounds worried, "It's been a week."

Ah. There it is.

Simon doesn't answer him, and eventually you hear footsteps fade away. The beeping remains.

You're determined now. It takes what feels like hours, concentrating, focusing- willing your body to just fucking cooperate.

Come on. Wake up. WAKE UP!

Your eyes flutter open and you're met with a dimly-lit room. Machines to one side of you flicker and beep. Your vision is still blurry, your eyes no doubt weak from their extended vacation.

It's still hard to move- your muscles seem to have forgotten how to cooperate. You manage to glance to your left to find Simon slumped over in a chair, snoring softly, his face half covered by a black surgical mask.

"Simon?" Your voice sounds so foreign to your own ears.

He jerks awake and his eyes first look to the door, then to you.

For a moment, he doesn't move. Scared that this might be a dream. A rug pull brought on by his exhausted subconscious.

When he's sure you won't disappear when he blinks, he grabs your hand, one of the few familiar feelings you recognize.

Words don't come to either of you, but he rests his forehead against yours and just breathes.

"How long have you been here?" You manage to ask; your mouth struggles with the words, but he still understands them.

"Never left."

#simon riley x reader #cod ghost x reader #ghost x reader #gn!reader

[momowritings]

Lipstick Fist

Pairing: Nanami x Black Reader (Mafia AU!)

Rating: 19+ MDNI

Word ct: 7k

tags: violence (not towards reader), nanami just wants to be with his wife, pet names (darling, sweetheart, etc), blood kink, fingering, blow job, vaginal sex, mating press... hmm I think that's it

Preview: You looked up at his face once again and Nanami also noticed the stain, bringing his hand up to wipe the bloody rivulet off from under his nose but you stopped him from doing that by leaning down for a kiss. You quickly moved your lips against his, taking his top lip in between yours and the metallic taste of iron filled your mouth....

Song inspo: you've seen the butcher- deftones

~~~

There’s only a few things that Kento Nanami truly hated. Traffic, soggy bread, and idiots to name some. Traffic and soggy bread are usually the products of stupidity and carelessness, so idiots are actually on the top of his shitlist. So many things could’ve been avoided if somebody, anybody, would’ve just taken the time to think. But that would be asking for too much. He never wanted to be the voice of reason in most situations. He’d rather not talk at all.

Except when it came to you. The light of his life, the apple of his eye, his slice of heaven with soft serve ice cream on top. He could be completely honest to you, almost childishly complaining about the idiots in the world and you are the one true person on his side, even if he’s being a little dramatic. If only he could hole away with you forever and leave all of his troubles behind. Just the thought of doing that made his shoulders lighter, but there was always more work to be done. 

And today there seems to be a never ending flow of work for him. He checked his watch and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. He was supposed to already be on his way home to you by now. 

And you knew that. You had spent the day running errands, but when you called Nanami earlier he still told you that he was still caught up and that you might have to eat dinner without him. You could hear the fatigue in his voice and frowned at the thought. You had finished your own errands for the day and opted to try out a new bakery along with some last minute grocery items. It didn’t feel right heading straight home while you knew that Nanami was only twenty minutes away from your location, and Gojo, the closest person your husband has to a best friend, was texting you like he wasn’t busy at all. 

Against your better judgment you rerouted the driver to the bar where you were going to patiently wait for your husband to finish his duties and come to meet you until you saw a familiar head of white hair sauntering into a building. 

“Stop the car, please. I’ll be good from here,” you told the driver and their face paled. 

“Ma’am we should really—“

“I’ll be just fine. You know Gojo, right? Don’t let me tell him that you’re doubting his abilities,” you said, already out of the car and deciding to take the box from the bakery with you. “Just stand on by. If anything happens, scoop me up.” You gave one last smile to the driver and shut the far, the dark tinted windows blocking out their face. You whipped around in search of Gojo and were surprised to see him so close behind you already. You could’ve sworn he was already inside the building. 

“What are you doing on this side of town?”

“I wanted to see Kento. Surprise him with some food,” you said fondly and held up the box.

“He’s not here,” Gojo said coolly. His rounded sunglasses did little to block out the intensity of his eyes that peeled through. They glowed almost neon in the sunlight. 

“Gojo, don’t play with me.” Your smile dropped immediately and you walked past him to enter the building. 

“No need to get all spikey. I was obviously joking. Are any of those for me?” He was referring to the takeout box in your hand and you gave him a dry “no.”

“You’re just like Nanamin. No wonder you’re married to him.”

The sentence made you warm inside, a smirk growing on your face. Your footsteps echoed in the warehouse, walking through the garage entrance still in search of your lover. You stuck to the walls and shadows, not wanting to disturb anybody.

“Where is he?” You called out behind you to Gojo. 

“Why should I tell you? It’s not like you’re ever nice to me.” Gojo crossed his arms over his chest and you rolled your eyes. The fact that he wore black jeans and t-shirt made him illuminate even more outside of the sun. His glasses pushed his hair up and out of his face now, a faux pout decorating it while you scanned the area. 

From outside you could hear a car engine rumble and pull-up to the garage opening and Gojo was by your side immediately, like he teleported next to you. 

“Who’s that?” You whispered when he pulled you away deeper into the shadows. You knew it was for your sake rather than his own, as Gojo wouldn’t hide from anyone. 

“Probably somebody I pissed off. Maybe. I can’t keep track anymore.”

Three men clambered out of the car. The two younger ones in the back statues behind the taller, more imposing man in the front. His frame filled his clothing, his blue jeans and leather jacket nearly bursting at the seams. From the far corner of the room you saw your husband emerge from a door, his eyebrows pinched together in annoyance when he saw the visitor. 

“Gojo aren’t you going to help him?” 

It’s not that you didn’t think Nanami couldn’t handle whatever this was about to be. You never doubted your husband’s abilities, but the other man had death flaming behind his eyes and it was hard to watch Nanami on the other side of that gaze. He took heavy steps towards Nanami, each footfall flooding your heart with dread. You wanted to call out to him but decided against it when you felt Gojo’s touch.

“He doesn’t need help. I think he’d beat my ass if I stepped in,” Gojo chuckled, holding your shoulders and gently pulling you back. You clutched the desert that you had brought with you and sighed. Gojo was right, there was nothing you could do to help him. You would only get in his way and that is not something that you wanted to do. It was already enough that you arrived unannounced. 

“I was told that there’s a blond with four eyes working here. You’re the one who sent my men away?” 

Nanami sighs and takes a glance to the left of him, then the right of him and then looks back at the burly man. He’s not that much different in height, just a few inches taller the closer he walked up to Nanami and had his hair slicked back in a greasy curtain. 

“Do you see any other blond four eyes?” 

Nanami could see the anger building up in the other man, his jaw getting tighter and his fingers twitching at his sides. “You can’t just fuck me over like that. We had a deal ,” he seethed through clenched teeth. 

“Yes. We had a deal, and now we don’t. Last time I checked, you brought the shipment an hour late. Do you know how long an hour is? What I could've done with that time?” Nanami was especially pissed because it had kept him from getting back home to you sooner. He absolutely despised when his time with you got cut short. It took everything in him to not say “fuck it” and be as reckless and uncaring as everybody else is but he has standards he holds himself to. 

“You still got it. I’m sure you found them useful.”

Nanami gave a dull stare to the other side of the warehouse clearing where whatever shipment of something you were in the dark about sat. The other man sputtered up, his face growing redder by the second and he began to shout. Nanami took off his glasses and produced a lens wipe from his back pocket. Gojo was giggling beside you, shaking his head at the encounter but you could only watch them intently. The only time you drew your eyes away from them was when you felt movement in your hands, only to find out that Gojo was trying to open the box from the bakery you had brought for your husband. You swatted his hand away from poking at it. 

“Oh come on! You always bring him something and never me!”

“We’re not married, Satoru.”

“So what, you have to be married to be nice now? I’ve always made sure that Kento is safe and sound when you’re not around,” he pouted. 

“Oh really? And what's going on over there?”

“That,” he pointed, snagging a muffin out of the box you finally opened for him. He read the cover of it, mentally filing away the name “Love Bites” for later. “Is a person making the biggest mistake of their life. I’m surprised Nanami’s even entertaining them,” he said with a full mouth. You jumped and closed the box when you saw the other man start to get rowdy and suddenly had a pointed gun at Nanami. 

You gasped, your heart paralyzed but Nanami stayed as calm and collected as ever. The henchmen that the other man brought with him started to laugh amongst themselves, and Gojo, who still remained by your side, took another bite of his muffin. 

“What to do Nanamin, what to do,” he muttered. 

Nanami looked past the barrel and straight ahead. “If you kill me now what happens? We still won’t need you, and you start a war. How does that help you at all?” 

“I’ll start with your ass, then the bitch standing over there like a lost puppy and the white haired freak next to her. I can worry about the rest later.” 

Nanami paused for only a second. He didn’t know that you were here, but knowing that Gojo was with you made him a little less worried. Nanami still had no idea why you decided to come, and the fact that this man had the audacity to bring you into it made him snap, whether he actually knew who you were or not. 

“It looks like I touched a nerve,” he smirked when Nanami was still unmoving, shifting his gun and body from Nanami to where you were standing with Gojo but was no longer there. Gojo had hurried you up the stairs to the upper level of the warehouse as soon as he had finished his muffin because he had the suspicion that you would become an interest to the newcomer. The man’s smile faltered when he no longer saw you, and now that you were out of harm's way, Nanami removed his tie. You had an overhead view of Nanami from the balcony. You watched him wrap his yellow and brown spotted tie around his knuckles, slowly and deliberately, and walked surely towards the other man. 

“Where the fuck did she–”

But he never got to finish the question because Nanami’s fist collided with his jaw. It was a sickening sound, like a wrecking ball smacking a brick wall. It was a hard enough impact that you winced and touched your own face. Satoru let out a huff of laughter, his eyes bright like he was watching a movie. The man staggered back, stunned by the hit so powerful the gun he held fell out of his hand and skidded on the floor. Before he could find his footing Nanami striked again, aiming for the center in his stomach and the other man was wheezing, walking away to stretch the space between him and Nanami, but there was no going back now. Nanami had one goal in mind that could not be stopped until it was achieved, and that was to have this man regret ever questioning him in the first place.

“Five minutes,” Gojo said, leaning close to your ear but his eyes were still glued to the fight. 

“What?”

“I bet Nanami’s gonna lay slickback’s ass out in five minutes. Probably even less.” 

Your gaze trailed back to Nanami and he had the other man's shirt crumpled in his hand and his voice was gravely deep. 

“Tell me the real reason why you’re here. There has to be a better reason than this.” 

“You all think you’re such hot shit but you guys need me. Nobody else will even—“

“I don’t need you,” Nanami growled. 

The dark haired man sneered, spitting in Nanami’s face and his mouth was full of blood as he spoke. “She means something to you, doesn’t she? I should’ve used her to make something shake a long time ago.”

He took Nanami by surprise and smashed his head into his face. You took a step closer but Gojo held you back, his hand heavy on your shoulder. You didn’t even notice that you were so close to the balcony already. Nanami’s teeth bared themselves when his knee came up to crush the man’s stomach, then when he was hunched over Nanami delivered a sharp hook to the side of his face. The other man dropped to his knees and waved his arms around, his senses lagging behind and he couldn’t tell when or where Nanami was going to hit him next. 

You watched Nanami’s powerful arms strike the man with dangerous precision, aiming for weak spots and the sound of awful thumping echoing in the warehouse. The henchmen that had accompanied him stood in horror as they watched their boss turn into a human punching bag. The man on the floor was still fighting, trying to get a grip on Nanami and failing miserably because his arms were never quick nor strong enough to stop the next blow coming down on his body. Blood splattered on Nanami’s face and clothes yet he didn’t stop until the man below him was motionless. 

Gojo finally clapped his hands together, walked towards the edge of the balcony, then cupped his hands around his mouth to call Nanami. 

“Look at the mess you're making, Nanamin. I’m the one who usually overdoes it,” he teased. Nanami slowly looked up to Gojo, his breathing finally slowing down. The anger that allowed him to beat someone to a pulp was still etched in his face, wrinkles pronounced and with his lips set in a hard line, and it shot electricity down your spine. He caught a glance of you, looking down at him like an angel of sorts and his gaze softened. You wore a shale pink wrap dress, your hair piled high on top of your head and eyes as wide as an owl’s. He really wished you hadn’t been there but it was comforting to know that you didn’t run for the hills at his outburst. You were still there, shock evident in your face and an undercurrent of something else he couldn’t quite place, but concern was clearly the heavier emotion. Above all you were worried about him . 

Nanami felt something brush his ankle and peered down at his feet. A weak hand clawed at him, making Nanami raise a brow. “You can still move? Let’s fix that.” 

“Boss?” One of the henchmen called out, terrified for their leader yet hope was laced in their voice, like he could possibly turn this around. Nanami didn’t like the sound of that at all. He shoved the other man in his side with his feet until he flipped over on his stomach facing the two guests. 

More blood sputtered out of his lips when he tried to crawl away as Nanami watched him impassively. When he failed for the third time Nanami pressed one foot in the middle of his shoulder blades, forcing him back down and he protested against it. 

“Since neither of you tried to intervene, I’m assuming he told you not to. Or maybe he was going to use this as a learning lesson,” he said, reaching down to pull at his arms. “And I do hope that you learn something from this.” Nanami eased his foot off of his body so that his chest was suspended off the floor by his arms only. The warehouse was deathly quiet before Gojo spoke. 

“He’s really taking a page out of my book,” Gojo gasped. His hands pressed over your ears and you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the scene. His hands did nothing to muffle the howling that ensued, the acoustic building amplifying the pleas for mercy and screams, making your teeth ache. Your husband was pushing his foot back down, pulling the arms in and up until his shoulders no longer held them in place and they were rendered useless. 

“You can always be replaced in this business,” he said to them when the wails subsided. 

“Except for you, Nanamin! I love you too much to let you go,” Gojo shouted, then dropped his hands from your ears.

Nanami rolled his eyes then watched the two younger men retreat back to their car, the tires screeching as they ran away. 

“I know you’re rolling your eyes but I mean it!” 

The man beneath Nanami made a gurgling noise and Nanami squatted down next to him and grabbed the strands of hair on his head into a ponytail, lifting up his face. It’s swollen, bloodied and unrecognizable from the hothead who came in early. More blood and drool dripped down onto the floor and Nanami gave his head a harsh tug for him to listen. 

“I want you to remember this. In your very last moments, the men who you thought swore their loyalties to you, the ones who you’ve been working with for decades upon decades, all ran away like rats and left you here to rot. You will die forgotten, and I think that’s quite fitting since I just can’t bother to remember your name.” 

He released his hair and his face fell back into the concrete once again. 

“Aren’t you afraid they might come back?” You asked Gojo as you rushed down the stairs to meet Nanami. 

“Pfft, no,” Gojo snorted. “We’re at the top. Like Ken said, let this be a lesson to all of them.” 

It’s a very different sentiment from the Nanami you knew intimately. He never ran out of patience with you; he had endless pools of it. When you reached ground level you practically threw yourself in his arms. He caught you with ease, cupping the back of your head into his chest. Under the heavy smell of blood his familiar scent filled your nose and you took deep breaths of it to calm down. You didn’t realize how fast your heart was thumping until you felt it against Nanami’s ribs. 

“Me next!” Gojo opened his arms and hugged the both of you, making you giggle. “You really do pay attention to everything I do, Ken. Is that why I dreamed of you last night?”

“What are you dreaming about with my husband?”

“Absolutely nothi–” 

“I don’t want to make you jealous,” Gojo interrupted, nuzzling his chin into the top of your head and Nanami swatted him away. “I’ll have somebody clean up the mess.” 

“Good,” Nanami muttered. When Gojo released the two of you, you fretted over Nanami’s hands. His knuckles that were covered with the tie were less raw than the one without, but they were both an angry shade of red. 

“God, Ken, I just came so that we can enjoy this new bakery I found on the way back home and then this happens,” you frowned. 

Nanami gave a small smile and kissed the top of your head. “I’m fine.” 

“That’s what you always say! That’s why I have to worry for the both of us.”

Gojo tutted in agreement. “Go to the bar and check to see if Shoko’s there. It’s technically after hours but she might be lingering around. And you look like you need a drink anyways.” 

Nanami nodded and his hand wrapped around your waist before you could move, walking with you to the car that was prepared for the short drive. You winked at the driver once you sat down inside, then tucked yourself right next to Nanami. 

When you arrived at the bar, Choso notified you that you had just missed Shoko and you sighed. He saw the weariness in your eyes led you to a room down a hallway in the back. 

“I’ll come back with a drink for Nanami. I’m assuming you’d want something strong, right?”

“Yes, thank you,” Nanami sighed, putting his jacket down on the chair near the bed. It was a sparse room with a queen sized bed, two nightstands, and a small clothed chair. A closed door in the corner that you assumed was the closet next to an open door that led to a bathroom and no windows could be found. When Choso started speaking again you turned to face him. 

“Anything for you?” Choso asked you and you shook your head. 

“No, no drinks for me.” 

“I’ll be back soon,” he nodded and you rubbed his shoulder appreciatively. He closed the door behind him and you locked it when he let go of the handle. 

You rested your back against the door and looked at Nanami who was sitting at the edge of the bed. 

“Come here,” he mumbled , and you pushed yourself off to walk into his open arms. They wrapped around you tightly and you combed his hair back. You didn’t say anything to him. You didn’t need to. Nanami did this all the time, silently recharging himself through physical touch and you were happy to help. You gently massaged his scalp with your fingernails until you heard soft rapping on the door again. Nanami grumbled something that you didn’t catch fully but you couldn’t help laughing. 

“You did ask for a drink,” you reminded, and sure enough when you opened the door Choso had an amber drink in a crystal glass ready for you on a platter. He also brought a whole bottle for Nanami. 

“Thanks Choso,” you smiled, and he gave you a small nod.

“Stay as long as you need,” he told you, then waved at Nanami who returned the gesture after he removed his dress shirt.

You locked the door for the last time, putting the drinks on the side table and going to the bathroom to get a washcloth for cleaning. When you stood in front of him again, his legs bracketing around yours, you started to wipe away the hand that he wasn’t using to down his drink. His knuckles weren’t as bad as you had initially thought as you cleaned them. The dried blood proved to be the other man's, the clearer Nanami’s skin became. There was only slight redness from irritation. You kissed the knuckles you cleaned individually.

The fight from earlier replayed in your head, making you slow down. His show of precision, his power, his steadiness were all insanely attractive and you felt yourself suddenly getting shy. Nanami felt the change too and asked what was wrong. 

“I think there’s something wrong with me,” you let out a breathy chuckle heavy with arousal and patted his shoulders. His hand rested on your waist, gently trying to calm you down and he looked up at you adoringly. 

“What makes you say that?”

You stared at his open collarbone, the pale skin underneath rising and falling with each breath he took, trying to keep your breath steady but failed when you looked into his eyes. If you had to choose a favorite feature of Nanami’s face, you would always choose his eyes. They were the warmest shade of brown that you have ever known, just deep pools of unyielding love for you and everything you have ever done. Right now they were slightly pained, not because of the fight that happened but because he wanted to know what’s on your mind and you were stalling. He was afraid that he might’ve scared you earlier. He hated to lose his temper in front of the only person he swore to never raise his voice at. Even though his anger wasn’t directed towards you at all it still bothered him. 

You, on the other hand, had a completely different concern, one that was caused from the heat pooling lower in your nether regions. You trailed your gaze down further, inspecting his nose that you remembered got bashed. Nanami was complacent, moving like putty in your hands and craned his neck in any position you needed. There was no swelling or bruising forming, which you were grateful for. You got to admire him quietly in the process and a ghost of a smile danced on your lips. Your husband was so damn beautiful.

“I don’t think it’s broken,” he muttered. 

“No,” you agreed. “It probably isn’t. We’ll have Shoko look at it later though. Just in case.”

“He truly took me by surprise.” 

“I know, baby, I know. I’m just glad he can no longer hurt you” you crooned. You must have had his head leaning down for too long, or pressed him too hard, as a drop of blood dripped from his nose to the undershirt. The scarlet stain looked neon against the white fabric and it was the only blood mark on his clothes that was his. The rest of the splatter was from the bastard who found the wrong person to annoy on the right day. You looked up at his face once again and Nanami also noticed the stain, bringing his hand up to wipe the rivulet off from under his nose but you stopped him from doing that by leaning down for a kiss. You quickly moved your lips against his, taking his top lip in between yours and the metallic taste of iron filled your mouth. Nanami moaned quietly, taken by surprise by your action but tightened his hold on your hip to steady you, his other hand propping himself up behind him as you leaned in further, getting more of your fill and pushing him into the bed. 

You straddle your legs around his waist, clutching his collar and running your tongue in his mouth. Your head was getting lightheaded from the lack of oxygen. When you finally came up to breathe you pulled back, groaning at the sight of Nanami even more disheveled and his blood smeared over his top lip. You finally remembered yourself, then grabbed the towel that had fallen into the sheet and finally wiped it off of his face. 

“I’m sorry. I just… like I said, I think there’s something wrong with me. I was worried about you the whole time, of course I was, but more than anything else I wanted to drag you into bed. You should be resting,” you rushed out, shame creeping up your neck. You began to crawl off of Nanami, one leg already on the floor but he stopped your departure and your eyebrows shot up in surprise. 

“You got me right where you wanted me and now you’re leaving? You’re always such a tease,” he muttered inside your wrist and you were sure that he could taste your heartbeat pounding beneath the skin. 

Your voice stuck to your throat when you tried to speak out. “Ken…”

“Mmm, don’t “Ken” me,” he smiled. His fingertips danced up your thigh, slipping underneath your dress and hiking it farther up. He brushed your dampening crotch and your breath hitched. 

“You’re the one who likes to see me bloody and breathing heavy, right?”

“It’s not a bad look,” you squeaked. His hand pushed past your waistband and circled your clit until you grasped the back of his hair. Nanami’s hands were going to drive you out of your own mind and he knew it.

“And what else did you like?” He gathered the wetness from your entrance, rubbing your clit more intently. You were soaking and only getting wetter. He didn’t tease you so much that you could not answer but it would not be without stuttering. You looked down at him, his face smushed to your chest with those pretty brown eyes of his blinking at you, waiting for your response. 

“You know I’ve always been a fan of your ha -hands.”

Such strong yet gentle hands. Big enough to cover large portions of your body but always delicate towards you. His hands were perfect. 

He smirked at you, now using two fingers to fuck you. They stroked and curled in the spongey spot deep inside and you started to grind your hips into his hand, unable to help yourself.  “Yes, I think I’m aware.” 

“And your voice, baby. You only yelled at him once but I heard you the entire time,” you panted.

“But you know that I would never do that to you? I would never act like that to you.” His eyebrows were scrunched up at you, begging for you to understand and his face was your undoing. His fingers never stopped moving, curling inside to stroke you just right. 

“I know, Kento. It’s just the fact that you can do that. N-not to me but– fuck, faster please. Just a little more.” You raised his chin up to mesh your lips on his, whimpering into the kiss as he gave you exactly what you wanted. His fingers quickly drew out an orgasm from you, one that released only some of the tension that had been building up in you for the past hour. Your pussy drenched his fingers with your release and you hid your face in Nanami’s shoulder. Kento eased more tremors out of your body and your teeth sunk into his shoulder. He wished you didn’t always try to hide your face when you came. He knew that now it was because you two weren’t in the comfort of your own home and wanted to be quiet, but Nanami loved to see your mouth pop open and a watch a silent scream fall out, or his personal favorite, when you murmured his name over and over again like it was the only word in the world, pleading and thanking him all at once, but that meant that he would have to keep going until he got the reaction that he wanted. 

Nanami removed his hand and sucked them clean while you caught your breath. You watched him from the corner of your eyes as you rested on his shoulder and gave a breathless giggle. 

“You made me come and I didn’t even take off my clothes.” 

You lifted your head off and peered at your husband. 

“I can still make you come without your clothes. I actually plan on doing that multiple times.” 

You stood up and walked slowly away from him, pulling at the knot on your dress and hummed. “Kento, I want to do you first. I've wanted to jump your bones since we got in the car.” Your dress unraveled and Nanami’s cock strained in his pants. A sheer balconette bra welcomed him, along with matching sheer panties that matched the color of your dress. The swell of your breasts and nipples were apparent through the bra, poking through the fabric and his jaw twitched. He didn’t know if he wanted to tear clothes off of your body or fuck you in the set. You obviously took the time to get dressed for him, your eyes searching for response as you did a slow turn. You let the dress hang off your arms when your back was faced to him, then reveal the curves of your body when you dropped it on the floor. 

Nanami took a dry swallow.

A sly smile formed on your lips when you walked back to him. While placing your hands on his thighs, you locked eyes with your husband and slowly sank to your knees, your gaze unwavering when you started to undo his belt. 

You could see how hard he was through his pants and it made your sex pulse. Once you finally freed him from his constraints, you palmed him slowly and placed a sultry kiss on the head of his cock. Nanami widened his legs for you to nestle in between, then placed his hand on your face, stroking the apple of your cheek softly. 

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he groaned. “Are you sure your knees aren’t hurting?” He asked but he already fixed a pillow for you to stand on. Once you repositioned yourself, you decorated his cock with more kisses on the way to the base, then flattened your tongue heavy with saliva, taking a slow, long stripe up to the head and swallowed as much as you could. It was no easy feat. If you were to ask Nanami he would tell you that he is an average size, nothing special, but your jaw ached from taking him in. 

Nanami thrusted his hips shallowly into your mouth, the warmth of your tongue making it hard for him to restrain himself, and you matched his rhythm. The rest of him that couldn’t fit in your mouth was covered by your fingers, wrapping around the shaft and twisting it with your spit. When he reached the back of your throat you moaned around him, the vibrations making him throw his head back. His chest heaved rapidly when he looked back down at you, his eyes full of lust and desire. 

“You let me do anything to this pretty mouth of yours,” he rasped. Your mouth made a crisp pop when you took your lips off of him, and his thumb immediately went to outline your lips, glossy with his precum and your saliva. You teased the slit of his cock with your own thumb, clenching your legs together at the sharp hissing sounds he made. 

“You never do anything I’d say no to,” you said, putting him back in your mouth and he cursed under his breath. Even with the orgasm you had a few minutes ago the heat was building up inside of you again. Your panties were soaked, you could feel your arousal dripping down your thighs. Like everything else on your body, your mouth was sensitive, and the noises Nanami was making only spurred you on. 

“I’m going to come,” Nanami said as a warning. His jaw was tight, rolling over when you batted your lashes up at him and continued to take him further down your throat. The heat of your mouth and your tongue moving against him brought him closer to the peak. It was clear that you had no intentions of letting him go early, so when he felt like he was finally nearing the end he begged you to look at him. 

“Gorgeous,” he murmured. “You take me so well.”

To avoid letting him see the blood rushing to your face, you attempted to brush your nose to his happy trail, taking him as far as you could. He came with soft moans escaping his mouth and his thighs jerked up slightly. You rubbed them down, looking back up at him to see his eyes washed with pleasure. With a stare dunk in lust, he dragged you up and on top of him again, slowly maneuvering into the center of the bed while his lips overtook yours. It was a sloppy kiss, and he could taste himself on your tongue but there was still the taste of you so he wanted more. You reached down below, rubbing his cock head on your clit after moving your panties to the side. Neither of you could be bothered to take them off properly and he bit your bottom lip in response. 

“I think I want to hear you beg,” you murmured along his jaw. “You’ve been awfully calm this whole time and it’s not fair.” 

Nanami let out a strained noise. “We have very different understandings of what ���calm’ is.”

He thought that he was barely holding it together. His hands feverishly ran over your body, starting with your breasts, then the back of your thighs before gripping your ass. You continued to tease him, only allowing the tip to enter before taking it out repeatedly. Labored breaths made his chest heave and he looked up at you with those beautiful eyes again. 

“Please, honey. You said you wanted to have me since getting in the car right?”

Your hand cupped the base of his neck, squeezing slightly and you nodded. 

“Yes, that’s right.” 

“There’s no need to wait anymore.” 

He planted a kiss right in the middle of your chest. His hands were now on your waist, warming up your sides. 

“I want to feel you. I’m all yours now so fuck me.” 

The end of his sentence had curled into a growl. It was more of a demand than a plea. His hands were back on your hips, not so subtly trying to get you to sit down. The edge of his teeth wrapped around your nipple and you settled down on the base of his shaft. You both moaned when he bottomed out. 

Nanami tugged on your nipple before lapping it with his tongue. He was deep seated in your warmth but trying to be mindful before taking over. You were adjusting to him, grinding softly on him to stretch yourself out. 

“You were made for me, Kento,” you groaned. You opened your eyes that were previously squeezed shut and rolled your hips into his. Nanami unlatched his mouth from his nipple and looked up at you in awe. Yes he was made for you. He was yours to use and wasn’t afraid to let you know that. Your eyes screwed shut again when you slowly lifted up to come back down on him, his length scraping your insides.

“All for you. I need you to look at me,” he begged. You came down on him harder, the sounds of your coupling filling the room, and the bed began to groan wearily underneath. You picked up the speed and opened your eyes per his request. His were wide and unwavering, watching you closely to match your rhythm, and his skin was warm with blush. His fingernails dug into and bit the plush of your hips. You leaned in to touch your forehead on his, gazing deep at your husband, sharing his breaths. With the hand that wasn’t on his neck you combed it up the back of his nape and tugged his hair down, tipping his face up and ghosted your lips over his mouth. 

“Fuck me harder,” you dragged out. “Make me cum.” 

The burn in your thighs were proof of your hard work but you needed more of him. Pressing chest to chest and lips to lips was not enough. Nanami’s thumb reached the slippery mess where you were joined to him to circle your clit and he swallowed the moans that ensued. He pistoned up into your pussy, responding to your order. His teeth grazed on any open skin to him. Nanami felt the sex drunkenness seep into his veins. It filled his head with only you, the best way to get you to curl and stretch with pleasure. You only urged him along, nipping the lobes of his ear to mutter more obscenities that made his body crave you. 

“Just like that Kento. I’m almost right there, can you feel it? I want you to fuck me good, Kenny. I want you dripping out of me. Can you do that for me, baby? Harder , Kento, I need— fuck. ”

You knew the reaction you were looking for with your words. It did not surprise you when your back was on the bedding and you were pressed into the mattress. Everything was white hot. You clawed him closer, but being ever the gentleman, Nanami slipped out of you and with a desperate whimper you felt the cool air slip between your bodies. Grabbing another pillow he adjusted some below you in a quick manner and his hands returned to your waist. 

His gaze on you kept your body sizzling, his cock head parting the seam of your sex and a shudder ran through you. Your pussy clenched around nothing, aching. 

“ Please ,” you whined. You raised your hips up to usher him inside and he did, welcoming your warmth and sighing into it. Tilting your head up for a kiss, your tongue ran in his mouth and you tried to clasp your legs around him. You were unable to as he started to pick up speed, fucking you deep until he reached the end of you, his pelvis brushing your clit and causing moans to tumble into his mouth. 

“So soft,” he murmured, lacing his fingers through your hands and bringing it to the top of your head on the pillow. “You remind me how to be soft.” 

“Kento,” you moaned. With your hands pinned above your head you felt more exposed, even though his body covered yours entirely. You could feel every muscle of his ripple above you. He never sacrificed speed over power, driving you out of your mind. 

The noises you were making in his ear, your tongue tasting his skin, the way that you dragged him in deeper, begging for him to stay inside and fill you up made his need for you from a scorching flames threatening to engulf you both. 

In a strangled moan he fucked you harder. The bed creaked dangerously, the headboard banging on the wall and all previous cautions of keeping quiet were forgotten. Nanami released your hands, instead cupping his palms to the back of your knees and flattened you into the bed. With every thrust he lost a little bit of himself in you, giving himself to you just like you asked, kissing you so hard your lips bruised and your head spun. It was like he was trying to apologize for his nature and you couldn’t get it through to him that you didn’t care. There was nothing that Nanami could do that would ever push you away from him, so you tried to show him the depths of your love in any way you could.

“I want us to come together,” he said, his own voice betraying him by cracking at the end. You opened your tear stained eyes, holding your husband’s gaze. 

Your eyebrows pinched together and you tried to follow his request but it was hard when he was so deep inside of you, causing all your muscles to pull taut like a wire. 

“Kento,” you murmured, your vision getting wavy around your peripheral but his eyes remained as clear as ever. You didn’t need to say anything more than that. He understood that you were reaching your limit and he could barely hold on himself. 

“Kento,” you said again, and a faint smile danced on his lips. It was happening, the favorite part of sex with you. Your eyes gazed down to where you two were joined, watching him disappear inside of you and another strangled approximation of his name left your mouth again. The spring in your stomach coiled tighter and tighter, getting ready to burst as Kento changed to languid strokes that unraveled you perfectly. Time slowed down and every touch and sound the both of you were making was magnified tenfold. 

You didn’t even realize when you had shattered once again. It happened so quickly, like lightning striking down on you but the aftershocks lingered. Your face was wet with tears and his lips were quick to catch them as he came down his own high. 

You heard a voice, a tired and hoarse one you quickly realized that was your own, still repeating the syllables that made up his name. Kento held himself over you, trying to catch his breath. He gently unfolded your body, taking note of any sounds you made that might indicate pain. 

“Don’t go,” you grumbled. You could feel the mess you both made in the sheets. The slight movements Kento made still inside of you only pushed out his come. 

“I need to clean you up. We need to do something about the bed too.”

“God, don’t remind me.”

Nanami stamped a kiss on your forehead, then two, then three. 

“I’m positive that we made enough noise for Choso to hear.” 

“You’re the worst. Just horrid.”

You could hear him grinning while you covered your face in your hands. Nanami carefully pried your hands apart. Another kiss between your eyebrows was placed. 

“I was made just for you so that makes two of us,” he laughed. The embarrassment still burned your face yet you couldn’t help but to laugh with him. 

“I love that sound,” he said fondly. Nanami’s nose rubbed against yours and your laughter fizzled into nervous giggles. “I love you.”

You cupped his face, his ears slotting between your fingers and traced his bottom lip with your top lip. 

“I love you,” you breathed.

Nanami never left between your legs, partly because you told him not to, partly because he didn’t want to just yet. Whatever the reason was, you could feel him hardening again inside, immediately reciprocating your mounting arousal. 

You took his mouth, deepening it as soon as he welcomed your tongue. With the strength you had left in your body you pulled him down on top of your, welcoming the heavy pressure. You drifted further into the bed, showing your love to each other over and over again.

#minimoe #momowritings #black fem reader #x black reader #heavy smut #nanami is a wife guy #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento #nanami smut #jjk fanfic #mafia au

[thedomesticanthropologist]

Tav tells Astarion what they think he needs is a friend, and he agrees. ((Angst ahead! Astarion x Reader...ish))

But then... It isn't easy

You have to stop yourself from walking to his tent, feet automatically going there as they always did. And then remind yourself that no, it's alright- a friend would still...

But not always first? Or not every night. Or...

It's an adjustment. And your heart aches. And it keeps not getting easier, as the days pass.

You approach him, one evening, and there's a knowing look in his eye.

"I think... We need to talk."

The same words he used, but this time from your mouth. He sits, pats the spot beside him companionably. Invites you immediately. But the look on his face is too composed, his body language... Practiced. He's been waiting for you to come. To speak.

"I will always be your friend, Astarion. I meant it when I said that. But I'm... I'm also in love with you. I thought I could set it aside, but I can't. I know you have so much happening right now- but... I just needed you to know.

I need you to know that in ten years, if I'm married with two kids and a house on a hilltop with a white picket fence and you came and asked me to leave with you, I'd leave. I need you to know that if you ever, ever want me... I'm yours. But I stand by what I said. I know you're not ready right now... We both do. It's just- if and when you are-"

And he stops you with a hand over your hand, between the two of you. You look at it, and then at him. His expression is honest, now. Open. His words are firm.

"You need to let me go."

"Astarion-"

"I've had time to think about this, too. You deserve someone who can give you the real thing. And- don't you dare say that you'll wait for me. I don't want you to wait for me.. I want you to live."

A long pause, the lump in your throat feels like a marble the size of a child's fist, your eyes burn with tears that begin to fall in rivulets down your cheeks. He caringly thumbs them away.

"We can be friends, you know. But if being near me hurts you this much, then one night after all this is over, I may have to leave-"

"NO!" The sound that comes from your throat is devastated, ragged, this is not how you wanted this to go, this isn't -

"shh, sh sh sh, darling. I'm not going to abandon you. Oh you sweet fool, no. I've learned a lot from you about love, recently. What I've learned is you deserve it, and I am not going to stand in your way. So don't try to walk beside me, my dear. Walk ahead, and let me protect your back. It's what I'm good at. And it is a lovely backside to be protecting, mm? But don't you wait for me. Promise me that, or I cannot promise I won't slip away when I know it's best."

".... What if I had said I wanted you back then? If I'd said I would wait, if I'd said-"

"You have given me a GIFT, sweet thing. You saw what I needed. I see what you need too, believe it or not."

His cool fingers give your hand a squeeze.

" Now, back to your bedroll. We have monsters to fight, evil to defeat, heroics to perform- all that and more, in the morning. But let me go, alright? Let me go. What we have is... Wonderful. The pain will ease in time."

"what if it doesn't, Astarion? What if -"

"It will, if you let it. Now, whats the appropriate thing to say before we leave for bed, hm?"

".... Goodnight."

"Good night, my Friend. Get some rest. I'll keep watch."

#i wanted to cry today #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #angst #astarion romance #spawn astarion

[wet-mouse]

ok, so, this thing. this fucking thing. i have been wondering about it for a while now so i'm making a post abt it

THIS. it's found in gourmand's campaign, and, from what i understand, is found around wherever you first perma-died as hunter. (i don't know if it appears at all if you haven't died as hunter) it's very clearly hunter's dead body, and it appears on the map with a red slugcat icon. i think it's very cool that we get to see what happened to hunter!!!! but i also have a few questions about it???

this thing is definitely a form of The Rot, just based on appearance and how it acts. the main difference is that it's smaller and red (and it also seems less mobile????? not sure tho, might just be because it's smaller/its tentacles aren't as long) and that it has hunter's body in the center. so the rot was presumably inside hunter, and it's what lead to hunter's limited cycles/permadeath. after hunter died, it was able to come out and move on it's own. that's all cool and good, but why the FUCK did hunter have rot inside of her???????????????? did No Significant Harassment put it in there on purpose, and if so, why would she do that?? is NSH sick with the rot like Five Pebbles (and if so, is she dead by saint or rivulet's time?)?? was it a mistake??????? i'm very confused on how this works and why it's there in the first place (if i missed any lore/important info lmk!!! i'm also happy to discuss this with others :D)

#downpour spoilers #rain world #downpour #hunter #the rot #hunter spoilers #(?????) #also maybe saint and rivulet spoilers??? #because of timeline stuff #idk

[macgyvermedical]

hi! so i recently saw a post on the symptoms and stuff of losing blood, like what happens when .5L are lost, 1L, 1.5, etc. i was just wondering what kinds of injuries would result in losing different amounts of blood? sorry if you've already posted something like this, but if you did i couldn't find it

There isn't really a way to list the amount of blood loss from different injuries. But I'll explain why:

You have three types of blood vessels in the body: Arteries, which carry oxygenated blood at high pressure around the body; Veins, which carry de-oxygenated blood at low pressure back to the heart; and capillaries, which are tiny vessels in the area where veins connect to arteries where the oxygen gets taken up by cells and cells offload waste into the blood to be cleaned by the kidneys and liver.

Most of the bleeding you've ever had has been bleeding from capillaries. It's a darkish red color and it's a very slow bleed. It's also very easy to stop with a tissue and a little pressure. This would be like nicking yourself shaving or a shallow cut on your arm.

If you got a deeper cut, you might have hit a vein. This is really deep dark red color and it kind of oozes or streams out of the wound in rivulets. Even this is probably not going to give you on the order of liters of blood loss, since it's also fairly easy to stop with some pressure, though maybe over a longer period. This is something that usually will not require surgery to fix, just pressure and some stitches.

An extremely deep cut on the inside of an arm or leg (or a traumatic amputation, or severe broken bone) might produce bleeding from an artery. You have probably never seen arterial blood, and that's a good thing. Arterial blood is bright red and it spurts out of the wound in time to the heart beat. If you get a big enough artery, it can spurt over 30 feet, and the person can bleed out in as little as 2 minutes. This is the bleeding that will result in liters of blood lost. It can be stopped with strong, direct pressure over the site of injury, or a tourniquet if the wound is in a place where a tourniquet can be placed. Since putting pressure on the artery to close it is the only thing keeping the blood in, and blood needs to get to the place where the artery was going, this person will need surgery to fix the artery or the person will lose the limb the wound is on.

#whump reference #writing reference #bleeding #blood loss #wounds

[the-cult-of-russo]

Just Beneath The Flames (Part 14)

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Warnings: cursing, smut at some point probably lmao, zombie shit, typical canon violence. You know the drill.

A/N: Okay so for the mini-arc of Reader going on her quest to find the others, I decided to do subheadings for what day she’s on in her journey for each little part. In case you didn’t know already, I’m not from the US, I’m from the UK. American geography is something I know nothing about so I consulted my trusty friend, Google Maps for this to figure out how long it would take walking, how many hours etc. I legit sat there writing down how many hours she’d travel a day, ‘cause she’d need to set up at night to be safe and all that shit, so I worked out what I thought was realistically a good amount of time for her to travel each day, allowing for any shenanigans that might happen along the way. You guys made me do math for you, I hope you're happy loooool

—-----------------

Day One

It was still dark as you traipsed around the woods, your body and thumping head on high alert as you did. It felt like with every little noise you heard, your hopes would shoot up in hopes it was someone you knew, only to find out it wasn’t. Part of you had started to wonder if you were hallucinating things when you thought you heard someone talking only to find a dead one instead. Last you checked, you were pretty sure the dead couldn't talk. You were a little slower with your navigation with how disorientated you were, trying to remember the way back to the old camp. When you got close enough, you stopped still when you saw the faint glow of a campfire behind the trees, your heart picking up a little. Either your old group was here or a new one had set up, you couldn’t be too sure. With the carnage you’d witnessed not too long before fresh in your mind, you held your knife tighter in your hand as you made your way over. You couldn't hear any talking, not even a faint murmur. The closer you got, the only sounds you heard were the crackling of the fire and sniffling. You tensed a little, moving through the last of the trees to see a figure sitting beside the fire with their head resting on their arms. It wasn't just any figure though and you felt like your heart shattered and then put itself back together in one fell swoop. 

“Billy…” you murmured softly, voice trembling as you felt your eyes prick with tears. Despite your voice being not much more than a whisper, his head shot up, his tearful and shocked face staring at you. For a moment, he didn’t move and just blinked at you looking like he’d seen a ghost and all you could do was stand stock still like a statue as your brain tried to digest that you’d found him. Only him. Where were the others? You wiped your face and the movement seemed to snap him out of his trance as he shot to his feet. He was on you in seconds, his arms wrapping around you so tight, you almost couldn't breathe. 

“Y/N… I-I…” he sobbed brokenly, clutching you like a lifeline as you clung to him too. Your own face was tear stricken and you moved away, hands moving to cup his face as you looked him over. Despite how bad he’d been when you’d had that talk on the back porch that day, you’d never seen the man look so wrecked and devastated, tears cascading down his cheeks in rivulets as he tried to catch his breath.

“What happened?” you asked quietly, dread coating your tone as your thumbs swiped at his tears. He closed his eyes, shaking his head and his hands came to rest over yours on his face. His mouth opened and closed and you had no idea just how bad this was, no idea what he was trying to tell you. He was in no state to say anything though and you carefully guided him to sit back down with you beside him, trying to keep yourself together so you could help him. When you both sat down, he snatched one of your hands, holding it tightly like he had no intention of letting it go and you didn’t really want him to. You might not have found everyone but you'd found Billy and for the most part, he looked okay.

“I thought... I thought you were dead,” he bit out once he got his sobs under control. His voice was raw sounding, his dark eyes shiny and imploring as he stared at you like he thought he’d never see you again. His free hand moved to the blood-stained side of your head and the look he gave you made your heart break and stop altogether. You squeezed his hand and sniffled, wiping your face with your free hand as you shook your head.

“I woke up and it was dark, you guys hadn’t come for me and I couldn't get through on the radio… I went back and I… I saw the cabin. Billy, what happened?” you asked more insistently, you wanted answers, you needed to know. He nodded, seemingly coming back to himself a little more now he was in your presence.

“Me and Frankie were about to set out for you and… the other group just… It was an ambush. We heard the explosion upstairs and before we could do a damn thing, gunfire was tearin’ up the place. They used some kind smoke grenade and we couldn’t see shit. Me and Frank… we were trying to lead the charge and we got Matt to lead the others to the truck from the back, we needed to get ‘em outta there. We managed to push through the front but there was smoke everywhere, bullets flyin’ all over and then-then the dead came. Frank kept screamin’ at me to fall back, tellin’ me we needed to leave but I-I couldn’t. It was like bein’ back overseas all over again. I told him I’d be right there but I couldn’t stop until every fucker was dead. When I was done, the truck was gone, they had to leave. And I don’t know if-if anyone got hit, if they're alright, nothin’... I came here hopin’ they’d come but they ain’t been by yet. I don’t know what's goin’ on,” he rambled with a deep frown and a haunted look on his face.

“They’ll be okay,” you said firmly, making him look at you uncertainly like your words meant the world to him. It made you swallow thickly knowing you were breaking your own rule of not making promises you couldn't keep. But you couldn’t believe otherwise, you refused to think that they hadn’t made it and you sure as fuck needed Billy to stop looking like his world was crashing down around him. 

“Before I came here I… I went and found the gas station you were at. You said you were hurt and you didn’t answer back when I walkied you after and I thought… I got there and the place was full of the dead, a half-eaten corpse on the floor and I thought it was you and I-” he clamped his mouth shut firmly as his tears started again, lowering his head as he shook it lamentingly. 

“After everythin’ that happened, my first thought was you and I needed to get to you. And-And I’d failed. I failed my family and I failed you and I just…” he sobbed, his shoulder shaking and you moved your hand from his to wrap your arms around him. He leaned into you, face pressing into your neck as he grabbed you tightly, his fists bunching in the back of your jacket.

“You didn’t fail anyone, Billy,” you murmured soothingly through the lump wedged in your throat. 

“You coulda died back there… all alone with no one comin’ for you,” he lamented with a sniffle and you stroked his hair, closing your eyes tightly.

“But I didn’t, I’m fine. You had more important shit to be dealing with. None of this is on you,” you frowned and he moved away, shaking his head with a face that told you he didn’t believe you one bit.

“This is on me! You’ve been sayin’ since this new group came up that we should head down to the safe house but me and Frankie were too proud to admit we should leave. We let our goddamn egos get in the way, made all of you stay. This is on me because I shoulda backed you up, shoulda insisted we went down there because it was safer. And now… they got out but it don’t mean they're fine. They could have bled out in the fuckin’ truck for all I know,” he sneered at himself, wiping his face so angrily you were supposed he didn’t punch himself in the face. 

You weren't sure what to say to him to make him feel better when you held the same worries. They could have been hit by a bullet or got bit on their way to the truck, anything could have happened to them. 

“You can blame yourself all you want and I know you will, but I don’t blame you one bit. You did what you thought was best for the group. None of us know what's waiting for us down in Virginia, Billy. We could wind up there with nothing and be at square one all over again. The only people to blame here are the ones that caused this. The ones that were fueled by greed and violence, starting a war for no fucking reason. We can’t make sense of needless violence like that, it’s out of our hands. There's always been evil in the world but it's even worse now it's every man for himself. A wise man once told me to let go of my guilt before it buried me. That bad shit just happens and there's not a damn thing we can do to stop it. That drowning it in won’t help anyone. Those words helped me more than I think he knows and I think you should take that advice,” you insisted, eyes wide and imploring as you looked at him. He blinked at you for a moment, recognition blooming on his face at the fact he was that wise man and that you’d remembered those words he’d told you all that time ago.

“I just… I just feel like I didn’t do enough,” he whispered with a frown and you took his hand once more, making him look to your joined hands.

“I know… Trust me I get that more than anyone. But right now, we need to focus on what we can do, not the shit that's in the past that we can’t change. The others made it out, that we know. They’re out there somewhere. So we wait here until tomorrow and if they don’t turn up, we make our own way down to the safe house because that’s where Frank would go, right?” you asked him, trying to sound like you were taking charge even if you felt like you had no clue what you were doing. He nodded, the movement jerky as he once again wiped his face with his free hand. Trying to keep away from the awful fear gripping you both, you opened your bag and got out a can of mushroom soup, opening it with your pocket knife before handing it to him. He gave you a weary smile before he chugged some of it, handing it back to you for you to have some as you sat by the warmth of the fire. You tried to ignore the burning in your chest at how much you’d lost. Not just the people that you were telling yourself you would definitely find, even if it killed you, but more so the place. The safety, the sense of home. You’d left so much behind back in the cabin and it wounded you deeply to have to start again like this. You felt eyes on you, turning to see Billy watching you with a look you couldn’t place as you finished the soup. It made you feel a little self-conscious as you wiped your mouth with your sleeve.

“When I saw that body in the gas station bein’ fuckin’ munched on by the dead… it felt like someone ripped out my beatin’ heart and stuffed it right into a fuckin’ blender. I haven’t… I haven’t felt that pain since… since Maria and the kids. After the shit that went down at the cabin, all I could think about was you, that if I could find you, it’d all be okay. And then… I couldn’t even bring myself to check the body, I just thought it was you and the world stopped turnin’. And I know the others got out and I know Frank’s a tough son of a bitch, I know even if someone got hurt that he’d make sure they were okay and get ‘em all to safety. But once I thought you were dead, I felt like I’d lost everythin’. I felt like I had nothin’ left and any hope I had for everyone else just… just fuckin’ left me,” he admitted in a murmur and it made your chest ache so fiercely that it felt like it might cave in. You looked away at the weight of his gaze, toying with the empty can in your hands before glancing back at him and he was still watching you intently. 

“I thought you were dead too, I thought all of you were. When I got to the cabin and saw… I was devastated, just absolutely broken. But I knew I had to check, I had to see with my own eyes. I didn’t leave until I checked every body there and each time I turned one over I felt like I might throw up because it could have been you or one of the others. I’m so sick of losing people. I’m sick of grief and guilt and loss and pain. I wanted to give up so badly, I almost did, but I forced myself to get back up. Told myself you had to be out here somewhere and I needed to find you all. That's how I wound up here… with you. And no matter what happens, no matter what we find or don’t find, we have each other,” you replied softly, uncertainty lacing your words. His hand gripped the back of your neck as he pulled you over to him, placing a firm and sweet kiss to your head before his arm snaked around your shoulders and held you to his side. 

“I’m glad you're here,” he breathed, leaning his head on yours.

“I’m glad you're here too,” you smiled, despite it all. 

Day Three

You and Billy got no sleep that first night after how amped up you were. The whole day had been anxiety-inducing as you both waited to see if Frank or the others turned up but no one ever came. You started to think they’d just made their way down to Virginia right from the start and tried to ignore that horrible voice in the back of your head that told you they didn’t come because something bad had happened to them. There were numerous reasons why they could have gone straight to the safe house instead of making a pit stop here. They might have had to flee in the opposite direction and thought it would be too late by the time they got here, they could have just thought it was the best move to make, knowing you or at the very least Billy would know where to find them there. Maybe someone was injured and they had to deal with that first. You really weren’t sure just why they didn’t turn up, but they hadn’t so the next day at first light, you’d shared another can of shitty soup before you headed off out. Billy didn’t have anything on him but luckily, the bag you’d grabbed had a map in it from whoever used it before you. You were grateful because otherwise you’d have to go on a quest to find one and it would eat into your time. The journey would be a long one on foot and it wasn’t like you could both travel solidly with no breaks or rest. Billy had looked at the map and picked a route, one that avoided big cities because neither of you had a death wish. The usual banter you both had was nowhere to be seen. It wasn’t exactly strained between you both but the air was heavy, pressing down between the pair of you. Things were still a little too much to deal with. 

“Do you think I could wash up in the creek before we head too far out?” you asked hesitantly. You were still caked in blood and felt gross but you also didn’t want him to snap at you for wanting to be clean more than wanting to find everyone. He looked at you before nodding, a thoughtful look on his face.

“Yeah, that’s a good idea. I’ll wash up too,” he murmured. You felt yourself relax that he wasn’t mad. Neither of you knew the next time you’d have the chance to get clean and you didn’t want to walk around with dried and crusted blood tugging at your skin. It was still cold but the cold bite of winter was starting to ease a little. You knew the water would be cold and with nothing to dry yourself, you’d be pretty chilly afterwards but you didn’t mind. It was a shame you didn’t bring any spare clothes, you hated putting dirty ones back on after getting clean. You both took turns much like you had in the past and you longed for the running showers that the cabin had. You hurried to get clean though, ignoring the sting of cold on your skin as you scrubbed yourself clean and then shoved your clothes back on uncomfortably. There were no cheeky remarks or playful comments this time. Billy had stood guard vigilantly and you’d done the same for him once you were done. There wasn’t time for playing around, not anymore. When both of you got clean, you set off on your journey once more. By the time night fell, your feet were on fire and your legs ached. You hadn’t dared ask for a rest and the pair of you shared a can of peaches as you walked earlier to try and keep your energy up. You were worried though. You hadn't packed too much, in a hurry to leave and find the rest of your group. You wondered if part of you hadn't thought you’d find them, you certainly hadn't packed enough food for two and you’d already gone through half of what you had. You were still in the woods and you both set up camp around some trees. It was cold enough for Billy to make a small fire, especially with you both still being damp and the air making it colder, but you were both hyper-aware of not wanting to be seen by anyone. As you both sat in front of the fire, the silence gnawed at you but you really didn’t know what to say. You were both too far in your own heads to hold a decent conversation. 

“You should get some rest,” he murmured after a long while, the pair of you having some more canned peaches for dinner.

“What about you?” you asked pointedly. While yes, you were exhausted, he also looked as tired as you felt. Not only physically, but emotionally. 

“We can take turns. I’ll wake you up after a bit and you can take watch,” he offered and you squinted at him, remembering the last time he’d agreed to that.

“You really better wake me this time, okay? We both need to get some sleep here or we won't get anywhere,” you warned him. He looked at you for a long moment before nodding and you had a feeling he would wake you this time because the matter of finding the others was way more important than him being chivalrous. You’d both been leaning against a large tree and not wanting to stray too far from him, you lay down right next to him, your back pressing against his legs as you lay in the dirt. You didn't have the luxury of a sleeping bag or even a blanket but you curled up, burying your face into your jacket as you closed your eyes and tried to get at least some sleep. Hours later, Billy was gently nudging you awake. It was still dark outside and you were glad he’d woken you up. You yawned before sitting up, rubbing your eyes as you leaned against the tree once more. 

“You sure you don't need more sleep?” he asked as his concerned gaze pinned you in place,

“Get your ass to sleep, Russo,” you muttered, raising a brow at him that had his lips curling up a little. The sight was something to behold and your heart stilled in your chest for a moment.

“Yes, ma’am,” he smirked and you snorted with a roll of your eyes. He lay down much like you had, his back pressed against your legs and you found comfort in being so close to him like this. Your bow and arrows lay at your other side, your knife in your hand as you took guard over him as he slept. You weren’t about to get caught out, weren’t about to let anything happen to him while he slept. He was all you had left. Your eyes burned with how tired you felt but you forced yourself to stay awake and alert until the sun came up. You got out a can of tomato soup, noticing you only had one more can of fruit and one more soup until you had nothing. You knew you’d have to deviate from your planned route to try and find a store and see if they had anything. You’d also keep your eye out for any tracks you could pick up along the way. 

You gently shook Billy awake, giving him a sympathetic smile as he blinked his eyes open. He hummed, nodding to himself as if trying to tell himself to get his ass up before he sat up and stretched a little with his arms above his head.

“Breakfast,” you muttered wryly, handing him the half-finished soup and he took it with a grateful smile, almost downing it in one. You’d all been spoiled for food at the cabin, even though you’d been carefully rationing it and you’d been constantly worrying about lacking in food. Now you really were lacking in food and you were kicking yourself for not bringing more with you. It was too late to dwell on it now though. 

“We need to try and find a store or something soon. We don’t have much food left. I was thinking of trying to hunt a little before we head out today or even on the way. Maybe we could find something,” you suggested as you got your bag ready.

“Sounds good to me,” he nodded, giving you a small but encouraging smile. You felt yourself overwhelmed by gratitude that you weren’t alone on this journey, feeling like if you were it would be far too easy to just give up and give into the dark thoughts that seemed to always linger in the periphery of your mind.

“What?” he asked slowly and you suddenly noticed you’d just been staring at him, your cheeks flushing furiously.

“I’m just glad you’re here with me,” you admitted. He blinked at you for a moment before a bashful smile spread across his face and he took your hand, bringing it to his mouth before placing a tender kiss to it that made you feel like jello.

“I’m glad too,” he murmured, his dark eyes warm as they shone at you. It felt like all you could do was stare at him, getting sucked into the pools of obsidian as he just gazed at you.

“We should head out,” you said, looking away quickly as you realized your thoughts were heading into a territory they had no right in being. It was best to push those thoughts as far away as possible from you. He nodded, giving you a look you weren’t quite sure of before you both got up and got ready to leave.

Day Seven

“Goddamn it!” Billy yelled, angrily kicking over a stand and the sound seemed to echo off the walls of the empty store. 

“Billy...” you murmured with a frown and he whirled around to face you.

“Don’t!” he warned bitingly as he pointed at you, his tone making your mouth clamp shut like a scolded child. 

“We haven’t eaten in three fuckin’ days and this is the fourth store we’ve been to and it’s just… there’s nothin’ left,” he growled, raking his hands through his messy hair.

“I know you’re upset because you're hungry-” you started, once again getting cut off by the absolutely scathing look he sent your way.

“You think I’m upset ‘cause I’m hungry? I’m upset ‘cause you are! I’d be able to hear your stomach for fuckin’ miles!” he barked and you felt your cheeks heat up in shame as you lowered your head.

“We haven't been able to find a goddamn thing out there, not any animals, not any food. I don’t give a shit about food for me, I care about gettin’ somethin’ in you ‘cause you need it,” he muttered, a little less angry and now more despondent as he shook his head.

“You need to eat too,” you huffed, giving him a look. You’d forgotten what it was like to go without food for so long, only just remembering being without food for four days and how it had led you to Billy and Frank’s camp all those months ago. You’d gotten to Pennsylvania and after day four, you’d run out of food. You’d thought you’d be able to find something in the woods, even if it just wound up being a squirrel. All you’d found were the dead though and each store turned up nothing. You were worried but you tried to push on, hoping eventually you’d catch a break. It seemed like Billy was over being patient though. You knew he was feeling like a failure, you could read it all over his face. That he took some personal responsibility to take care of you and he felt like the lack of food was somehow his fault and like he wasn’t suffering too.

“Look, we can’t do shit about the store being empty. Let’s just keep going, stick to the woods and see if we can find something out there,” you said, giving him a look that told him you weren’t about to take no for an answer. With each passing day, he’d been growing more and more irritated, and while you knew it wasn’t direct at you, it made him more snappish and you were getting annoyed by it. You weren't having his personal issues cause problems for you both when you only had each other for company. It wouldn't help you both find food and it sure as fuck wouldn't help you get to Virginia. With one last look, you slipped back out of the store and walked to the tree line, not looking back but knowing he was following you. 

“We’ll find something, okay?” you muttered after a while of you walking side by side. You glanced at his pensive face and he looked at you, his cold eyes softening a little as he blew out a breath and he nodded.

“Yeah,” he answered reluctantly, not sounding like he believed it much. After a few more steps, you felt him take your knife-free hand with his own and you looked to your joined hands quickly before his face. He was now looking guilty and sheepish and you knew he was feeling bad for snapping at you.

“I’m sorry for bein’ an asshole,” he frowned softly as his eyes moved back ahead of him.

“It’s fine. We’re both hungry and tired, we’re dealing with a lot. We can get through this though, right?” you raised a brow at him, a small smile toying on your lips and after a moment, a smile of his own appeared and it made you relax.

“Right,” he nodded, sounding a little more sure this time as he squeezed your hand. 

You walked hand in hand for a while but eventually, you had to reluctantly untangle your hand from his as you got your bow and arrows ready, determined to find something on your way. 

“Squirrel,” you murmured thoughtfully, crouching low as you inspected the tracks in the dirt. You’d been walking for a few hours now with no sign of anything but now you felt hope blooming in your chest and you tried to ignore the voice that screamed at you that hope was futile. 

“That’s-That’s good,” Billy breathed, sounding hopeful himself and you shot him a smile before you stood back up. You both walked silently, him trailing behind you as you tried to track the squirrel and find it. Before long, you stopped dead, Billy stilling too, as you saw it at the bottom of a tree. While your love for animals never wavered, you’d admit the guilt you felt for killing them got less and less the longer you did it. It was just part of life now. You let your arrow fly and it hit the squirrel easily, killing it and pinning it to the tree, making you wince a little. Billy wasted no time in strolling right over, yanking the arrow out before picking up the squirrel as he gave you the most genuine smile you’d seen in days. 

“Guess we got food for tonight,” he murmured wryly and you smiled. It wasn’t a lot and with the both of you needing food, you knew it would only last for dinner and nothing else. But it was better than nothing and would at least give you some energy instead of running on fumes. It wasn’t completely dark yet but with how hungry you both were, you set up camp right away with Billy making a campfire to cook the food. You demolished it in no time and it didn’t do much to quell the deep hunger that days without food had left but it did make you feel a little better and you’d take what you could get.

“Thank you,” Billy said softly after you’d both finished your food. You were licking your fingers clean as if trying to get every little bit you could when you glanced over at him.

“What for?” you asked curiously.

“The food… for not givin’ up on me and puttin’ up with my bullshit,” he scoffed with a smirk, looking a little sheepish as he twirled his knife around.

“I’ll never give up on you,” you said firmly and his eyes softened, a smile curling his lips. It made your heart pick up a little and you tried to keep your mind away from how he was making you feel. It was getting a little dangerous being one on one all the time with him like this, it was getting harder to ignore the feelings for him you had.

“Besides, I’m used to your bullshit. And Frank gave me permission to punch you once so…” you trailed off with a shrug and he snorted, looking away with a sad yet wistful look on his face and you instantly regretted your words.

“Yeah… sounds like Frankie,” he murmured wryly but you could hear the underlying hurt and you knew you’d been an idiot. Despite you both knowing exactly what this journey was about and who you were trying to find, you hadn’t outright mentioned anyone by name since you started as if to avoid the topic. You didn’t like him worrying or being hurt like this and you inwardly smacked yourself for being stupid enough to talk about Frank and opening that can of worms when you’d only just settled into a routine that didn’t involve mostly silence. 

“I’ll take first watch, you get some sleep,” he said, a smile that didn’t reach his eyes on his face and you nodded, feeling guilt burrow deep inside of you.

“Goodnight,” you murmured before you curled up beside him.

“Goodnight,” he replied quietly and you frowned, closing your eyes and trying to get some sleep. You’d avoid mentioning people next time, avoid twisting the knife where you knew it lay buried in his chest. You really hoped you’d get to Virginia soon and that they’d all be there. You had no idea how you’d deal with it if they weren’t and you didn’t know if Billy could handle it. He’d been through loss before, just as you had and you didn’t want him to go through that again. Especially not when Frank was his best friend. You were terrified of what awaited you both down in Virginia and what that meant for the pair of you. You had no idea just things would play out.

Taglist: (if you’ve been asked to be tagged and aren’t here, it wouldn’t let me tag some people.)

@firexfate

@blanchedelioncourt

@on-ya

@sunshinedaisies-anddeath

@snowkestrel

@music-indie-tv

@idaofinfinity

@sweetserendipity65

@ramadiiiisme

@k-marzolf

@celestialams

@woowwwee

@noortsshift

@rainbowgoblinfan

#billy russo imagine #billy russo fanfic #billy russo x reader #billy russo

[glitterslag]

Ink

Synopsis: Chrissy gets a tattoo. Set in the summer of '86, before Chrissy goes off to college and before she and Eddie have figured out what they are to each other.

Warnings: implied abuse (may be triggering for some!!!!!), sexual references

Author's Note: Something for my heatwave girlies!!!!!! Hope everyone's been staying nice and cool! This is the last pre-college blurb I'll be doing for a while! After this I wanna write a lot of established relationship!eddissy, so look out for that! I also wanna give any smut I write for them the time and attention it needs, so apologies for being a c*ck tease in this but don't worry... it's coming later!!!

You can read the rest of the stuff I've written for this universe here.

“Did they hurt?” Chrissy wonders, tracing the outlines of the tattoos on his bare arms.

It’s the middle of summer. They're laying on a stained old mattress on the grass outside of his trailer, Eddie shirtless and smoking, Chrissy sucking on an ice pole. Eddie’s dog-eared copy of The Silmarillion lays abandoned on the ground beside them. It’s too hot for him to concentrate on anything but the steady drip drip drip of blue raspberry syrup, melting off of the ice pop to form a rivulet down the middle of Chrissy’s golden chest. She’s wearing a halter top.

Eddie shivers beneath her touch. Her fingers are icy cold.

“Not really,” he contemplates, twisting his arms around to get a look at each tattoo. “The ones on my chest hurt a little, but the arms were no big deal.” 

“What do they all mean?” She asks, eyes glazed over and a little dreamy, preoccupied with freckles and hairs and muscles and sinew, and the tan line on his wrist where his watch would usually sit. 

This is only the second or third time she’s seen him shirtless. She’s still getting used to how he looks - arms surprisingly toned once the baggy band t-shirts come off. He doesn’t have a six pack or anything, but his chest and stomach are a pleasant amount of hairy.

Eddie shrugs.

“They don't mean anything.”

“Come on.” Chrissy prompts him, eager for something - anything - to give her a glimpse inside Eddie’s mind.

“They don't.” He insists.

“I like bats. I like spiders and barbed wire.” He gestures to the black widow on his chest, the barbed wire bracelet inked around the top of his bicep. 

“This one's a Metallica reference,” he concedes, pointing at the one on his forearm.

"Master of puppets," Chrissy recalls, remembering him playing it to her once, forever ago.

Eddie grins, pleased she remembers the name of his favourite song.

"Yeah."

She notices two little scars on his right arm, each one faintly visible beneath a black bat. They're circular and textured, almost like chickenpox marks. She’s never noticed them before.

"What's that from?"  Chrissy wonders, running her finger over the dents.

He looks down at his arm for a second.

"Um, those are cigarette burns.” 

He says it very matter-of-factly, and she’s confused.

"Did you drop one on yourself?"

It takes Eddie a little while to answer.

"Uh, no.” He says, finally. “Not me."

His dad.

He doesn’t have to say it for Chrissy to know that’s what he means.

She knows Eddie didn't see his parents anymore, and she’s noticed that Wayne refuses to speak about Eddie’s dad. She knows there’s bad blood there, though Eddie has never really talked about the extent of it. He's said a few things about the guy in passing, though, that have allowed her to form a mental picture.

"I'm sorry." She offers, placing two cold, sticky kisses on his freckled arm. One for each scar. 

She knows there’s nothing more to say. If Eddie wants to open up about this stuff, he will. Otherwise, she doesn’t push her luck. You have to let him come to you.

"S'okay." Eddie murmurs, proving her point as he wraps an arm round her, pulling her into his side. He taps her on the shoulder a couple times in reassurance. "Happened a long time ago."

He licks the ice pop residue off his arm and hums appreciatively, and she shoots him a small smile.

"Why do they need to have a meaning, anyway?" Eddie says suddenly, quick to change the subject. “Fuck that.”

“‘Cause they're on your body forever?”

“So?” He challenges.

She makes a face at him, but lets it drop.

“Where'd ya get 'em?” She pipes up again a few minutes later.

“There's a girl here at the trailer park who does it for me.” Eddie explains.

“A girl?!”

“Yeah, a girl.” He laughs.

Every now and again, Eddie’s noticed, cheerleader Chrissy slips out. She’s much more tolerant now, more open minded, but her mom's and Jason’s views are still in there somewhere, in the back of her mind. Like a D&D monster Eddie needs to defeat.

“Can I meet her?”

Eddie raises an eyebrow. He’s not entirely sure what’s gotten Chrissy so fixated on this all of a sudden, but curiosity gets the better of him, so he agrees.

“Sure.” 

----------

“Amy, this is Chrissy,” he says as he steps over the threshold, propelling Chrissy along with him with the hand that’s on her back. 

"She's my…" he trails off, and it’s awkward for a second. He blinks at Chrissy, who just stares back, unsure.

"She's a friend." Eddie says finally, quickly switching his expression out for a kind smile. He pats her on the shoulder as he gently pushes her inside.

"Hey," Chrissy says weakly, shooting a smile at the taller girl, who’s standing behind the door.

She looks very different to any of Chrissy's friends.

Her hair is dyed a deep red and teased out at all sides. Her thin eyebrows are drawn on to match, and her eyeliner is heavy and black. Studded bracelets and chains are stacked all the way up to her elbows. Her shirt is ripped, her skirt short, and on her long legs are fishnet stockings. Chrissy swallows.

"Hey." Amy says, eyeing Chrissy up and down with the ghost of a smirk.

"Didn't think you were into the cheerleader types, Munson." She quips, a grin curling its way across her painted lips.

“Hey watch it, Amy,” Eddie warns. “Chrissy's cool."

Eddie’s tone isn’t mean. The cheerleader comment stings, but as Chrissy observes the two of them interacting, she realises that Amy’s wasn’t, either. She’s surprised at the sight of Chrissy, maybe, and yeah she’s a little blunt, but there isn’t any malice there. It stings all the same. Chrissy is a cheerleader type, but she doesn't like it when people point out how different her and Eddie are from each other.

“So, what brings you two by?” Amy inquires.

"Eddie told me you do tattoos." 

Chrissy squeaks it more than says it, and Amy laughs, loud and bright.

"Why, you want one?"

"Oh, no," she says quickly, shaking her head. "I don't want one or anything. But can I see your drawings?" 

Amy smiles at her, and she has to admit it feels kind. 

“Sure.”

----------

"Let's see," Amy clicks her tongue, flipping through her big, leather-bound book until she lands on the page she's looking for. "I got roses... hearts... dolphins?" 

She slides the book across the table. 

Chrissy’s bare thighs are sticking to the chair beneath her. Eddie’s disappeared somewhere through the back, taking a look at the busted AC unit per Amy’s request. If it’s hot outside, it’s sweltering in Amy’s trailer.

“Probably just needs a new filter…” he’d been muttering to himself as he wandered off, messing around with a screwdriver. Leaving the two of them alone.

Chrissy isn't dumb. She knows Amy’s showing her the "girly" designs, probably because she's made an assumption that that's what Chrissy would like. And it’s true, for the most part. She does like flowers and hearts and dolphins. But she wants to know what else is out there, too. She finds herself wanting to know what a girl like Amy would get.

“Which ones do you have?” She asks shyly.

Amy bends over on her chair, pulling down her tight, black denim skirt to reveal her lower back. Chrissy’s eyes widen. There's a scorpion drawn there, poised to strike, sitting on one side of her tail bone. She also shows Chrissy a butterfly on the back of her neck, an anchor on her upper arm and a skull on the inside of her ankle. 

“Wow,” Chrissy whispers.

They’re definitely not her style, but she doesn’t hate how they look on Amy.

"So," Amy starts as she rearranges her skirt, tucking her tattoos away again. “What’s the deal with you and Eddie?” 

She’s trying to sound casual, but Chrissy can tell there's something else there, underneath. 

"Have you and him ever... Y’know?"

Chrissy's cheeks burn.

"No." She answers honestly.

 Chrissy doesn’t even know whether they’re officially dating. 

It feels like more than just hanging out. Friends don’t make out with each other or sleep in each other’s beds, after all, and they probably don’t stay up on the phone for hours every night, either. And friends definitely don’t switch to walkie-talkies stolen from Henderson after Wayne or Laura kick them off the phone at midnight, and fall asleep to the sounds of each others’ voices. 

But of course, Chrissy and Eddie have never had that conversation. The thought of them actually having sex is enough to send Chrissy into a tailspin.

A look comes over Amy’s face then - and Chrissy knows in that moment that Amy and Eddie, on the other hand, have slept together. She’s overcome with a hot pang of jealousy and it's like nothing she's ever felt before, or thought she could feel - not with Eddie. It's new. It's bad. 

Chrissy knows she shouldn’t hate that Eddie has a world that she isn’t part of. That he has things in his life besides school. She knows she shouldn’t hate that for all these months, his head hasn’t been solely occupied with basketball and cheer, with homecoming and prom and spirit week and her. 

Sometimes, though, she kind of does. Even though school is over, and Chrissy’s long since lost her grip on the top rung of the Hawkins High social ladder, she can’t say it doesn’t bother her to realise that there was a time when she wasn’t the only girl on Eddie’s mind. 

Amy’s a lot more like Eddie than she is. She's got dyed hair and eyeliner and tattoos. She's tall and she wears clothes that show off her chest and stomach. She's metal.

Most of all, Chrissy thinks, they've known each other for a long time. Amy’s an old friend, Eddie had said earlier, when he’d been leading her down the road to Amy’s trailer. They’ve got a past together. One that Chrissy wasn’t there for. She finds herself wondering whether Amy knows about the scars.

Amy must notice Chrissy's face falling, because she reaches out across the table and touches her hand. She clears her throat.

"I was sixteen when I got my first tattoo," she begins, putting her big combat boots up on the kitchen table. There’s a wistful look in her eye as she strokes at the skin on her ankle, fingers ghosting over the small black skull.

"I remember how good it felt. After." She adds. "Hurt like a bitch while I was getting it done."

Chrissy laughs politely. 

"I just remember having this feeling of like... Shit. This is MY body. Y'know? Like. I'm the one in control. I decide what I do with my body. Not mom. Not dad. Not school."

 She waves her hands around half heartedly, eyes rolling toward the nicotine stained ceiling.

"Me." She says finally, looking up at Chrissy, who’s leaning forward intently.

"Feels pretty good." 

Chrissy’s a little stunned. She’s never thought about tattoos - or any act of so-called ‘rebellion’, really - in that way before. As a way to take back autonomy. A way to take control. It’s a pretty compelling thought.

"You should think about it." Amy says, a tiny smile creeping its way across her face as she realises she’s planted a seed.

And Chrissy does. 

She goes home that night and she thinks over and over about what Amy said. About it being her body. Not Laura’s. Not Phillip’s. Not… Jason’s, she thinks with a shudder. She’d never been his, she reminds herself. Not even when they were together.

Chrissy thinks Eddie might be the first person who’s ever treated her like her own body belongs to her. And it’s not just because he hasn’t been pestering her to take things further than just touching over the clothes - it’s everything. Eddie’s never once told her what she should and shouldn’t eat. Never tried to tell her what she can’t wear. Can’t drink. Can’t smoke. Never told her who she can and can’t be friends with. And she knows he never would.

A few weeks later she makes an appointment with the parlor in town. Rather ridiculously, she calls from a payphone a few blocks from her house, terrified that Laura could somehow be tracing her calls.

She does think about going back to Amy, but in the end, she decides that it’s better if she doesn’t tell anyone what she’s doing. Chrissy wants this to be something that’s all her own.

She's shaking when she goes inside. The waiting room is mostly filled with older biker guys, and their jaws drop when she walks in dressed in pink shorts and clean white sneakers.

"You got ID?" The guy behind the counter grunts.

She pulls out her learner's permit for him to inspect. He whistles through his teeth. 

"Eighteen."

She chooses a little star design from the wall full of drawings. Nothing big or flashy, but she thinks it’s beautiful. It'll go on her hip, small enough for it to always be covered up, even if she’s wearing a swimsuit. Chrissy might be independent, but she’s not quite in college yet. If her mom sees it this summer she’s dead.

"You getting this for your boyfriend or something?" The tattoo artist’s asking twenty minutes later, loud over the buzz of the machine. She’s laying on the plastic-covered couch, hands balled into fists and her eyes squeezed tight shut. Amy hadn’t been wrong. Hurts like hell. 

"No." She manages through gritted teeth. "I'm getting it for me."

----------

She doesn’t tell Eddie anything about the tattoo. Not outright, anyway. He finds it himself a week or so later when they're kissing on his bed, his hands sliding up her back and her t-shirt bunching up to reveal a sliver of skin. It’s peeking out from the waistband of her jeans.

He feels a little like he’s discovered the Holy Grail.

"Is that-" he starts, a flush creeping up the back of his neck as he tugs at her jeans slightly, rubbing at the design on her hip. "Chris, is that real?"

"Yeah," she whispers, lips grazing his shoulder. 

It’s felt like a game, waiting for Eddie to find it. She’s been a little nervous to see how he’ll react, but it’s not long before she realises that there was no need to be. 

"Fuuuck.." Eddie breathes, big hands rubbing up and down her exposed sides as he gazes at the tattoo in what she thinks is awe.

"When did you get that?!"

She shrugs, acting nonchalant, but there’s a smile growing at the corner of her mouth. She stays hidden in his shoulder, body buzzing underneath him.

"About a week ago."

"What?!"

Chrissy just nods, a smug grin now easing its way onto her face. 

“That’s so fucking hot, Chris.”

She feels hot. Physically. 

She knows how Eddie looks at her, how he’s been looking at her for a long time, but he’s never been this frank about his desire before. She doesn’t mind it. It heats her up inside and thrums through her like an electric current.

“What made you wanna do that?” 

Eddie’s thinking back to their conversation the other week. Wondering if maybe he was the one who lit the match.

As if reading his mind, Chrissy smiles and says, “actually, it was Amy.”

Eddie can’t stop looking at it, touching it, grinning to himself as he props himself up over her, a curtain of long hair tickling her face. He’s hard, too, she realises, pressing against her stomach through his sweatpants. 

“You can’t tell anyone, by the way,” Chrissy murmurs, and he gives an exasperated laugh. She feels it across her face, warm and breathy.

As if they weren’t way past that now, Eddie thinks. He’s kept every secret she’s ever told him, but she still feels the need to stipulate it every damn time.

“I dunno Chris,” he starts, fingers creeping up her exposed stomach. “I mean, what if i accidentally let it slip during one of my weekly gossiping sessions with your mom-” 

She rolls her eyes. 

“You know what I mean.”

She catches Eddie’s hand and he grins wickedly at her, leaning down until his lips are inches from hers. Chrissy shifts under him so that her legs rest on either side of his hips, pushing his hair back out of his face as she often does when he’s on top of her. He takes the hand he’s now holding and pins it above her head, lacing his fingers through hers. 

Being this close to Eddie used to make her so nervous, but not anymore. He dips his head into her neck, placing a soft, barely-there kiss just below her ear. She thinks she could probably lay here and do this forever.

“Don’t worry, baby.” Eddie whispers in her ear, sending a string of goosebumps threading down her spine. She can hear the mischief in his voice. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson headcanons #eddie x chrissy #eddissy #hellcheer #eddie munson x chrissy cunningham #eddie munson blurb #chrissy cunningham #my writing

[illegally-blind-and-deaf]

MORE TINTIN HEADCANNONS CAUSE IM BORED (if you don't like then just simply scroll by and let me enjoy my bliss please and thank you)

Tintin has two distinct smiles. Both of them are genuine (because he's an optimistic little lad who sees sunshine when it's raining) but one is more so than the other. One is the one everyone sees: the broad grin that so many cameras have flashed at and is on the cover on every edition of Le Vingtiéme Siécle. The one with round apple cheeks and twinkling eyes so full of innocence it makes one wonder if he's truly seen the wrong end of a gun. It's the one he wears often, the signature Tintin grin. The other is more selective, coming out in moments of pure, uncontrolled happiness. Very few people see it and you have to be extremely close. It's different: more lopsided and crooked, leaving a dimple in one of his cheeks. It makes his eyes crinkle into tiny blue rivulets and anyone who catches sight of it can't help but grin back at him too. When Captain Haddock first saw it, it made him realise that Tintin was in fact still a kid (in my headcannon, unless slexidiied, he's 16-18 because that's canon according to the books.)

Tintin is a massive polygot, but not only can he master how to read and write the language, he also can pronounce it clearly that people often forget that his mother tongue is French. The Captain, who lives in England, has a Scottish accent in the movies and speaks what I assume is English, forgets this every time until he catches the reporter muttering something or other in French. Thebkther thing that catches the captain off-guard is that Tintin refuses to call him "Captain" but instead calls him "Capitaine" because French. It's very entertaining; he goes from a perfectly pronounced English accent to the most innocent Belgian voice ever for ONE SOLE WORD then switches back. It drives people up the wall and Tintin finds it absolutely hilarious.

Random one not so much about Tintin, but more about Mrs Finch. When she first had the little teenager move in to her spare flat at 14 (probablybrather common in those days because you stopped going to school after 12 unless you went onto university or higher education and in my head Tintin didn't have the money for that because ✨Depression✨ (as in the Great depression, not the mental illness)) with a couple of suitcases and a trench coat far too big for him and a white puppy playing excitedly at his feet, she swore from that day on that she would look after him with every fibre of her being. She pops up the first night to see if he's settled and has supper and when she finds out that he hasn't had the chance to get groceries, she bistles down the stairs and comes back up with a massive pot of soup, fresh bread and tea. They sat at the little table for ages, talking and getting to know each other. She discovered that this child had a deep passion for books and adventure and made a mental note to get him as many books as she could. (He went from ten books to 30 in the span of two months because of her help. He was very happy with that.) She told him how she had been a nurse in the Great War and that if he was ever feeling ill to pop down to her and she would get him on the mend. What she didn't expect several months later was to hear the door open and close quietly well after midnight. She opened the door to face the intruder and discovered Tintin trying to sneak back into his flat, absolutely drenched from the rain and almost hiding his arm. He said a brief hello and hurried inside, so she grabbed a teapot and hurried up after him. She definitely did not expect to see him sitting at the same small table, his shirt half off as he dabbed at his arm, nor did she expect to see a gun shot wound slicing through his arm. She shrieked, scolded him severely, then ran back and grabbed her first aid kit, came back, asked him what in the bloody hell happened, was he okay, were there any other injuries that needed attending to and very adamantly told him to stay out of trouble. His response? "But Mrs Finch, it's my job. I have to get these stories and that means I get into trouble." She huffed, gave him a look, studied those innocent round doe eyes and sighed. She made him promise that if he ever needed medical help to never be afraid to ask her or else he will get scolded again. There were many late nights of patching him up then chatting over a cup of tea.

K that's all for now byeeeee

#tintin #les adventures de tintin #milou #the advetures of tintin #hergé #tintin headcanons #captain haddock #headcanons #tintin fluff

[feverinfeveroutfic]

blood & wine | chapter three of six

ao3 link

I prided myself on the devil’s food cake, especially when I made a pair of ganaches for it, a dark chocolate one as well as a white chocolate one to make a series of rings to create a target. It was going to have a single candle right in the middle: this little gateau about the size of a can of oatmeal with three layers inside. Something devilish for my little devil.

Alex strode up to the lazy Susan on the counter with a twinkle in his eyes as if he was a young boy at one of his birthday parties again. He ran his fingers through his black curls and licked his lips.

“It looks utterly indulgent,” he declared.

“Make a wish, birthday boy,” I encouraged him. He paused for a few seconds, and then he glanced over at me for a brief second. He leaned into the candle and blew out the flame in one breath. I clapped my hands together, and then carefully, I picked up the knife and sliced the blade right into the top, right before the base of the candle. I plated him the first slice and handed him a fork, but he never ate into it right away. I gave myself a fair slice, and then he gestured for me to follow him outside.

“Here… wanna come with me to the bridge?” he offered me.

“The bridge?”

“It’s not too far from here,” he assured me. “We’ll eat our cake on the way over there.”

I was unsure as to why he would want to take a walk like that, especially when we had plates of devil’s food cake with us as well. But I trusted him, and once I had locked the door, he led me out of the apartment and down onto the street. All the while, he sank the tines of the fork into his piece of cake, and he closed his eyes at one point, even though we were walking.

“Oh, man,” he said at one point. “This is amazing.”

“Delicious?” I asked.

“Beautiful,” he remarked. “Sinful, even.”

For a moment, I thought that we weren’t going to be able to make it to the bridge in question because he was enjoying that slice of cake just a bit too much, but he led me about three blocks from my apartment complex to a cluster of trees near the mouth of Lake Merritt. The bridge wasn’t very big, even though it stretched clear across the black waters and gave us just enough room to walk along the wooden railing off to the right. Alex continued to indulge in his birthday cake all the way to the middle of the bridge, and then I offered to hold onto his plate for him.

“So, you just come here and toss some bread crumbs into the water here?” I asked him.

“Yup, and we say all the things that we did wrong over the past year. We don’t eat all day from dawn to dusk and spend the day with our parents.”

We were right in the middle of the bridge when he stopped and gazed out to the waters below us: the cold black rivulets gently washed underneath us as if we had a bit of runoff in the meantime. The wind picked up behind us, such that I shivered a bit. I clutched at the plates and held them up to my chest as if they were going to get away from me. I looked over at Alex and the way that his hair seemed to twirl around on the sides of his head: his gray streak fluttered a bit, like that of a little feather.

“Legend has it that when you meet someone on a bridge, you’ll never see them again,” he said, and his voice seemed to float on the wind. Stray ringlets of his black hair twirled about behind him.

“But we’re not necessarily meeting each other, though,” I pointed out.

“Of course,” he assured me, and he glanced over at me with a slight raise of his eyebrows. “Sometimes I wonder what would happen if we did, though. I meet a guy who likes to feed me and entice me, and yet we never see each other again once we leave this bridge.”

“And then you come back here to repent for Yom Kippur,” I added.

“I come back next week with the stale bread and my parents, and we talk about our grievances and let them out of the bag, and right before we head on back home, I see the reflection of jet black hair in the black waters below. The feeling of a stout body embedded in the wood here. The ghost of a boy whom I believed would love me the way that I wanted to be loved…” His voice trailed off. I took a quick glimpse up at the sky overhead, at the cloud cover over us. I swore I felt a temperature drop right then. The talk of ghosts made me shiver even more.

“As long as we’re not going over to the Golden Gate Bridge,” I said to him.

“We could go there on Halloween,” he suggested, and all the while, he kept his voice down low. This was a side of Alex I had never seen before, and I was enticed by it, perhaps more so than his appetites. The wind blew through his hair and made his curls twirl around before him, the sunlight gently kissed his head and face to make his skin resemble to porcelain: the shadows lifted away from his eyes and eyebrows to make him look like a little doll with bright glassy eyes. Strands of his gray streak swept over his right eye and the right side of his forehead. The thoughtful look on his face never lifted away.

He looked like a ghost. The ghosts of millions of people who had graced the earth before us.

I swore I heard sirens behind him against the wind.

“What are you going to make me for Halloween?” I asked him again, and that time with a tremble to my voice.

“I don’t want to ruin the surprise,” he replied.

“Maybe I should whip out a few calacas,” I suggested.

“Calacas?”

“Living skeletons that are big and bright and colorful,” I said. “The Day of the Dead skeletons. I could make us some cookies in the shape of them.”

“Cookies and cakes and everything oh, so delicious,” he quipped, and then he glanced over at me.

If I only knew.

“Eric, let me ask you something,” he began again. “What exactly possessed you to feed me all the delicious food in the first place?”

“I don’t really remember,” I confessed with a shake of my head, to which he squinted his eyes at me.

“You don’t remember… other than maybe giving me something nice and decadent for my appetite without realizing that I am a boy of flesh and blood, and I can, will, and have gained a little weight as a consequence. My clothes are tighter, my body is a bit rounder, fuller, and softer than usual. Sometimes I wonder if you’re a warlock at all.”

“I like dragons, I kind of am a warlock on principle,” I joked with a straight face.

“It’s like you don’t realize that there’s a monster inside of me,” he said with a hand on his belly. “Something inside me that could… dare I say, sink its claws and teeth into someone if it doesn’t get what it wants. It can get drastic if I am left unsatisfied.”

I swallowed at that.

“A devil, a demon… something along the lines of the Leviathan, the fearsome fifty-foot-long sea monster that can swallow the two of us whole at the end of the world.”

“You’re bluffing,” I quipped with a shiver. I knew he was trying to scare me, but I had to remain grounded, especially when it was that cold out there and he seemed to be in no hurry to head on back to my place. He placed his other hand on his belly: he was still so soft there, I could tell, even after he had lost most of it.

“Oh, am I?” he quipped back. “Sometimes I feel like, even after all this time, you still haven’t figured me out yet, Eric.” He slid his hands further onto his belly as if to protect himself from something. “I have noticed that when I don’t eat anything for a long time, I start to itch for… something else. It’s like this instinct that kicks in. The ‘survival instinct’ as my parents call it.” He moved his hands again, that time to his hip bones so his shirt spread over his belly to accentuate the slightly rounded shape. Still very slim, albeit with some softness.

“The survival instinct fused with a bit of the killer instinct,” he continued, and he placed his left hand right over his waist: “the two intersect every so often, you know. They come together into a foul-smelling serpentine creature, much like the Leviathan itself. It’s primal, having been around since our earliest ancestors when they were hunter-gatherers and fisherman.” He never moved his hand as he turned towards the wooden railing and the black waters down below us. “When you realize that there’s no food in the house and you’re short on money, what do you do?” 

He reached into his pocket and showed off his Swiss Army knife with a sleek black handle that looked to be made of volcanic glass. “I’m sure you’ve been in that position before, Eric. Growing up mixed race in a cozy neighborhood of Berkeley, not too far from me. Some nights, there was probably very little in the house to eat.”

I swallowed at that, and I froze when he flicked open the main blade: the edge shone against the gray sunlight.

“It helps that you and I are both minorities,” he continued, and all the while, he kept his voice down low, low enough for me to hear over the winds. “To leave us without food or anything sufficient and leave us to die unless our primal desires rise from the dead. Centuries of oppression for Latin Americans, millennia of oppression and destruction for the Jews… it’s only a matter of time before one snaps and sends the side of the knife—” He switched the handle around with those long fingers so the tip of the blade pointed down to the wooden railing before us. “—into the ones trying to destroy them and rip them to shreds.” He hurled the blade into the wood before us, to which I stumbled back away from him a bit. But he never moved a muscle for a good long minute, that is until he calmly released his grip on the knife handle.

“The sands of time don’t always heal the wounds of the persecuted,” he continued. “Forgiveness never erases memories and history, and I have watched far too many people completely destroy and obliterate themselves all for the sake of forgiveness.” He raised his gaze towards me, those eyes as bright as blood diamonds. “Soft animals as we are, even as my belly still remains soft, and you yourself as thick as a mighty bull, there is a side to us, tucked away in the furthest recesses of our minds, that tells us to kill to survive. Forget fucking to survive: we must kill to survive. A severe lack of food means a desire to do something horribly drastic for our own benefit.”

I held still with my hands rested upon my chest. My heart pounded away at the sight of him, and more so when he gripped onto the knife again to wedge it out of the railing: a small slit was left behind in the wood, but it was enough for me to realize the sharpness of the blade.

He closed his knife and sighed through his nose.

“Shall we?” he offered me.

“Back home? Yes, yes, yes.”

“Besides, I promised my mom that I’d be back home for dinner,” he clarified. “I’m going to be eating more cake tonight.” He flashed me a wink, and I couldn’t help but smile back at him, albeit a nervous smile.

Alex may have been sexy but there was something more to him, however. Something he never told me.

I started to wonder what exactly happened back there at his grandparents’ house.

#blood & wine #blood and wine #blood & chocolate #blood and chocolate #fanfic #fanfiction #halloween special #kinktober #kink tag #kink tumblr #kinktober 2023 #eric peterson #alex skolnick #testament fanfic #testament #testament band #horror #halloween horror nights #writing #also on ao3 #text

[medusanova]

Hello, I am on a mission here, as you know. I'd like to know about Rivulets of Destruction and Moment of Truth, pleaseeeee

Hehe well I couldn't live with myself if I were the one standing in the way of your mission — your wishes are my command (;

About Rivulets of Destruction:

What is this?! A non-Rivusa fic?! *gasp* So this one is Greysha, actually, and it started as a really dark and terrible thought that I had to write down and turn into a full-blown one-shot. I'm only about halfway into it at the moment and, if I had an actual heart, I think I would've cried while writing it - that is the level of angst I'm diving into here. I feel like the title is a pretty good indicator of that, though. It was hard finding a small blurb that wouldn't give too much away but I think this one will do nicely:

She brushed a strand of onyx hair from his temple. "You'll need to be careful tomorrow." "I'm always careful." Aisha huffed. "Alright, then you need to be more careful. I think they're planning to take down as many Blood Witches as possible." She caught his eyes. "Especially anyone with enough skill and power to become the next leader." "Eliminate every head of the hydra." "Precisely. And that might include you." She played with his fingers nervously. "We've all got clearance to transform if needed. And the Specialists are fighting to kill." "I understand. I don't intend to fight, Aisha. I'm keeping to the outskirts until your signal." Grey's expression hardened. "You need to be careful as well. He's a lunatic and he knows he's losing. A desperate man is a dangerous man." "I'm always careful," she echoed his words. "I mean it, Aisha -- no risks, no chances." She studied him, watched as he shaped his concern into the anger he presented to the world. Like just the potential of what might happen consumed him with wrath. It petrified her, seeing that expression. Wondering how he might react if she died.

About Moment of Truth:

Well, that didn't last too long - back to Rivusa! This one will be about a darker theme (just torture, no biggie..), but as I've finished about a third of it, it has, quite ironically, taken on a lighter, snarkier tone than I originally intended. And I think I'm really liking it! My original train of thought: Musa's mind fairy abilities would probably make her a fantastic torturer/interrogator, no?

"Do you know why Sky stopped meeting you?" "I do." He clenches his jaw to prevent himself from saying more but she tugs at his mind anyway, urging his tongue to form words even as he holds them back. It's possible for him to omit information to avoid outright lying to her, but she doesn't make it easy. "Huh. And does—” Musa punctuates her question by leaning forward and poking her soft finger, the finger that used to stroke his cheek with fondness, hard into the bruise under Riven's cheekbone. “—that hurt?" "Uh, yes, Muse. It really does." He flinches, then squirms as she applies another jot of pressure, leaning close enough for him to douse his lungs with her floral scent, close enough for him to lean forward and kiss her again, before backing away. "Fuck this. Musa, you know I'm not Rosalind's man." "Then why did you give Sky a dupe instead of the Blood Witch book?" She crosses her arms. Struggling for patience at her questions and composure at her presence, he bit out, "I told you it was only a matter of time before Dane found me out. He must've switched them before I left to meet Sky." "Hm. Wrong answer, I'm afraid." Despite her apologetic words, there's a savage glee in the violet glow of her eyes. "I'm on your bloody side, you mad fairy! Go ask—Aaaahhghh! Fuck!" Within some chamber of his consciousness, Riven knows that it only feels like there are shards of glass being embedded into his bound forearms, but the piercing depth and sharp accuracy of the agony is... extremely convincing. He swears he can even hear the glass hit his bone. He's been a witness to more methods of cruel and unusual punishment than the average soldier, being Rosalind's puppet all those years. With an unhinged enthusiasm mental "exercises" and a perverse desire to "prepare" Riven for his role by Andreas' side, his mind is fully equipped to fortify itself against a sensory cortex hallucinatory attack. He'd also been on both sides of torture, so he understood the mechanics and intent. But this— her interrogation was unfettered by the limits of things like blood or anatomical endurance. And it's more creative and gruesome than Riven had imagined him, or Rosalind for that matter, could ever be.

#another long one but you did ask for two in one haha #I think you might've picked the lightest and darkest fics in the bunch too so go you #had to pack in some *foreshadowing* #greysha #rivusa #riven x musa #fate: the winx saga #ftws ask games #my writing #nova writes #ask me things

[ikeromantic]

Mitsuhide Akechi + Water + Hawthorn + Urania

I decided to make this one soft ^_^ Approx. 600 words on themes of Water, Hawthorn - protection, Urania - heavens/teller of fortunes.

Rain fell so heavy that Mitsuhide could not see the garden beyond the walkway. The drops drummed a wild beat on the roof and rivulets of water rushed by unseen across the ground. Days like this made him feel that his manor was its own island, floating in the heavens amidst storm clouds. Peaceful.

He turned to see his little mouse as she came out of their room. She yawned, stretching. Mitsuhide could not help the way his gaze lingered over her form, nor did he want to. She was his beauty and he loved to look at her. 

She came to him, and leaned against his side. “Morning.” Her cold hands sought warmth under his clothes as she snuggled into him.

Mitsuhide laughed softly. “Did you come find me because you were cold?” He shifted so that she could rest back against his chest, letting his quilted akome drape over her. 

“Mmmm.” 

“I see we are in a talkative mood.” He smiled and kissed the top of her head. His arms wrapped around her, settling protectively on the roundness of her belly. Mitsuhide felt a certain awe as he cupped that slight bump. “If you like, I can carry you back to bed.”

“No. I want to watch the rain with you.” She turned her head just enough to smile up at him. “It’s beautiful.”

He pressed a light kiss to her cheek. “Not half as much as you.”

“With my messy morning hair? No make-up and -”

“Perfect. Lovely. Gorgeous. I can continue, if you like? But please, don’t insult my wife or there will be consequences.” Mitsuhide pretended a severe look.

She laughed. “Consequences, hm? I don’t know . . . sometimes I like those.” Her hand moved to rest atop his.

Mitsuhide felt a warmth in his chest, the weight of joy too large for his heart to bear. A tightness that could only be fear came on its heels. Even now, after so many months wed, it did not seem possible that this was his life. He never would have predicted this future for himself. It was too good.  

“What are you thinking about?”

“Hm? Why?”

She stroked the top of his hand with her thumb. “You gripped me tighter and your eyes had that look.”

He sighed. “It seems I can’t hide anything from you, little one.” Mitsuhide loosened his hold a fraction. “I was just thinking this is more than I deserve. That in this moment, my happiness will be stolen away because the only reason I could be allowed this -” He kissed her again, “is so that it can be taken. The pain of loss, my punishment.”

“Mitsuhide.” She breathed his name, a prayer from her lips. 

“Grim thoughts. I am sorry.” He rested his chin atop her head. 

She laced her fingers with his, so that their fingers both touched the swell beneath. “I can’t promise nothing will happen. But I know you will protect me. And our child. No matter what comes.”

“I will,” he said simply. 

“And I will protect you.”

Mitsuhide felt the tension in him loosen as he drank in the comfort she offered. Her gentle words, meant sincerely. “My little mouse. I wonder sometimes if you are not some heavenly spirit in disguise.” His tone was teasing, playful, but he knew he could not hide his true feelings from her. He did not wish to. 

Neither spoke after that. They stood, holding each other, and watched the rain. Breathing in the scents of petrichor and each other’s skin. Their hearts, all three, beating in time together. 

#ikemen sengoku #ikesen mitsuhide #mitsuhide akechi #fanfiction #fanfic #otome #otome guys #fluff

[pb-dot]

Last Line Tag

I got dinged by @mrbexwrites for this thing in this here post featuring the protagonist having a bit of a time. While I am super neurotic about my endings, I am pretty happy about the closing lines of The Clockwork Boy so I decided to share it with whoever would care to read. As this is undeniably spoilers, the snippet will be under the cut.

As for my end of the tagging, I am passing the torch in a very non-pushy way: @squarebracket-trick @dyrewrites @writeouswriter

Feel free to let me know if you'd rather be exempt from my networking shenanigans, thanks. And now, without further ado:

From The Clockwork Boy

The next words came out of Adrian in drips, as if he was holding back a torrent of thoughts “So I would understand if you,” Adrian swallowed as if he needed to steel himself “if you didn’t want to be with me like that because I can’t guarantee it won’t be dangerous for you and that’s not fair. What if I end up hurting you?” An incredible calm came over Jake. He felt like he could see Adrian’s hurt and confusion and how it caused him to act as easily as he could map the gears in his body and how they transferred motion. The fix wasn’t complex. It wasn’t going to be easy, but it wasn’t complex at all. Jake put down his tools. “That will not happen,” he said, slightly shocked at how tranquil his voice sounded. “Adrian, I love you. The rest of it? We’ll figure it out. I promise” The dams holding back Adrian’s tears burst and sent rivulets from the clockman’s eyes as he grasped Jake’s head in both his hands. Time felt like it floated unevenly as Jake leaned closer. Adrian pulled Jake closer still and kissed him. Adrian’s lips were soft, softer than Jake had imagined, softer than he could ever dream of, and Jake found himself immersed in the feeling of the kiss, his need, Adrian’s need, the awkward, unmitigated wonderful desperation of it. If this was danger, Jake did not want to be safe.

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#writing #writeblr #the clockwork boy #hearts in clockwork #tag game #the clockwork boy spoilers

[minniff]

“heavy rain” Brett Hand | angst

heavy topics/content warnings: drinking alcohol

Hello! I’m not sure how well non ship/reader stuff does here but this is just a test run. This is some sad stuff about Brett, might be slightly ooc i’m not sure. 

it also ends pretty abruptly but it was intentional. no happy endings here lmao, also i haven’t double checked anything yet and its probably not my best work. Hope you like it either way, 

-

The sun permeated through the curtains, and Brett groaned as he woke up. His vision was a little spotty, and he held his head in his hands – for a moment his mind was blank, surely he didn’t get much sleep last night, he ever did. 

His apartment was quiet, and he frowned.

“What am I doing?” He was almost startled at the crack in his voice, it lingered in the room. His eyes drifted off to the electronic clock on his nightstand, and he let himself fall back. 

4:12 am.

Walking into Cognito Inc, he held himself high. A routine he let himself fall into while working there. He smiled and greeted the people walking in the corridor, as usual, he liked his job, there were plenty of interesting things happening. 

The day was eventful, but then again there was never a calm, quiet day being with his friends. He smiled at the thought while twisting the key to his apartment door. He liked all of them in their own ways,

Reagan is his best friend, he’s never had someone who was truly honest with him like Reagan was. He could rely on her for anything, she was a shoulder to lean on when he didn’t know what he should do in a tough situation. Sure she didn’t like him at the start, but it doesn't mean anything now.

Brett shook his coat off, unbuttoned his shirt, and stepped into the cold shower.

Gigi was more confident than him, she was a lot stronger emotionally, he’d never seen her be anything less than amazing. She could do anything, he admires her for that. 

Andre and Myc were inseparable, he always appreciated the invitations to hang out. It reminded him of his time at school, stupid fun without worrying about the consequences after. 

Glenn was strict, but ever since they switched bodies he found a new appreciation for the guy. He liked the way Glenn would put his hand on his shoulder whenever he was proud of him.

 He wondered what his friends thought of him.

Hopefully good thoughts, 

He looked at himself in the mirror when he steps out. His hair is longer, and the ends touch the middle of his neck. His eyebrows furrow at the dark ovals under his eyes. His nose is slightly crooked, he's put on a little bit more weight. Maybe he should lay off the office doughnuts. 

He fingers have cuts on them, the gentle sting made him wince. His hands have gotten a lot more rough and dry. His nails were getting a little too long for his liking. 

He breathes in heavily, 

Sitting on his fluffy white duvet, hair still damp from his shower, rivulets of water snaking down his collarbones. He feels his heart sink, like heavy rain: cold, despondent, and loud pattering.

He rummages through his closet to find a half-empty bottle of Rekya. 

His therapist told him to avoid overthinking peoples’ opinions of him. That he should live his life how he chooses to. 

Maybe it is good advice, maybe it isn’t. 

How do you live life without anyone there to experience it with you?

Brett feels a sob bubbling in his throat. He’s naked, sitting on the foot of his bed and he hears laughing from the room below him. It makes him want to throw up. He thinks more about his friends.

Did they even like him?

Not even him and Reagan, his so-called “best-friend” have ever done anything that wasn’t at Cognito Inc. Maybe he was okay with that, but did Reagan think this friendship was just them being friendly coworkers -- when to Brett, it was so much more?

They’ve never seen the Brett that stays out late because his bed makes him uncomfortable, they’ve never seen the Brett that cooks six meals, sets the table and sits alone. They’ve never seen the Brett Hand that covers his mouth when he cries because he doesn’t want anyone to hear him -- even if he lives alone. 

Did they think he was stupid? Some adult man that acts like a little kid?

A “yes man.” 

Is that what he was?

He’s sniveling into his knees. Unable to take any more sips of the bottle, he set it down on the floor. His face and ears are flushed. He falls backwards.

-

He walks into his office more tired than usual, there was a ringing in his ears. When he sat down in his chair, he let his head press comfortably into the headrest.

His hand brushes with the recorder he left on his desk every day, and he presses play. 

 “Hey! Its Brett! I guess I don’t have to say that every time. Anyways, Reagan said some stuff today that really made me think.

She said I was annoying, can you believe that?” He hears himself laugh, it sounds wrong.

He frowns, he’s been doing that a lot lately.

“Myc said it was true, he always tells the truth even if it’s tough, but then again he’s always been a bit rude. It’s always all jokes though! He’s pretty funny.”

If his friends really said those things to him the day before, he doesn’t remember it.

“I wonder if trees have feelings, and plants. Do you think flowers can feel it when we pick them up? Haha! It makes me not want to pick flowers anymore.”

 His heart feels heavy again, like it did the night before. Only this time he feels like his chest is thundering. His heartbeat is slow, but loud; he grips his suit and throws up into the nearby trashcan. 

-

“I need people to like me.” 

His therapist glances up from her clipboard. He knows that she’s looking at him sadly, she always does but this time he can’t bring himself to look at her back.

“What do you mean?” 

Brett rubs his eyes. 

“I need people to like me, I don’t know. It’s hard to explain.” In a way he’s telling the truth, it’s hard to explain. It would take him hours, and lots of back and forth to come up with a reasonable answer to “What do you mean by that?” 

“Maybe we should do some exercises.” She begins, and Brett’s breath hitches but nods anyways. 

It’s hard to explain. 

-

#inside job #brett hand #inside job angst #minniff #brett hand angst #magic myc #andre lee #reagan ridley #glenn dolphman #gigi thompson

[queenmorgawse]

on gawain, and the death of king pellinore.

AUTHOR'S NOTE. this is a drabble based on gradalis, an arthurian legend retelling you can read in english here and in french here, as well as an extrapolation on an event that happened well before the story's current events. as such, it may get contradicted by future episodes, but you know what? screw it. gawain time.

edit : as of episode 83, this is no longer canon, but i enjoyed writing it, so fuck it, it stays.

As the blood of her father's killer pooled at her feet, all Gawain could think was : it is done.

There was no saving Pellinore. She'd felt her blade rip through steel and bone and tender flesh, tearing his chest open. A young man would have been felled by such a blow, and the king of Listenoise was no longer young.

A guttural scream pierced through the air. Lamorak. Pellinore's second son leaped over the wooden barrier as if it were nothing, murder in his eyes. Gawain watched him close in on her, too dazed to move. If he did reach her, she noted, he would wring her neck with his bare hands. She was older and stronger than him, but she was tired to her bones, and bleeding from a half-dozen wounds beside. He would close his hands around her throat and choke the breath from her.

All this happened in a fraction of a second—then Kay was between them, tackling Lamorak to the ground and holding him down as the boy kicked and struggled like a beast in a trap. It could have been a minute or ten, but finally Lamorak's hoarse shouts grew quieter, slowly replaced by long, wracking sobs.

She'd never cried like that, not even for her father's death. She wondered now if she should have.

Past the barrier, she could see prince aglovale, his face white with a sort of grief neither of them could name yet. ( Well, she supposed he was no longer Prince Aglovale ; Galantine had just made him a king. )

As if feeling the weight of her gaze, he looked up. The frost in his eyes chilled her to the bone—she staggered back, and then there was a pair of hands to steady her.

Ger mother smelled the same as she always did, like dried rosemary and sage and the tangy scent of magic. Her perfume cut through the stench of blood and steel, reminding Gawain of childhood days spent at her knee, darting between tables and playing with her toy knights as the queen of Orkney worked miracles.

"My daughter," Morgan whispered, and she could have wept for the sound of it, the relief that threatened to crush her. "You did well. Your father may rest in peace now."

Mama, she tried to say, but her tongue felt like lead, and the words would not come out. Blood dripped down her chin. Red ran in rivulets from her left eye down to her chin, filling her mouth.

Mama, look at him. when I took up my sword, I forgot all about Father. I spilled his blood for you, for you, for you.

"Come," her mother said. Gawain let her turn her face away from the scene. Morgan took her chin between her fingers, staining the tips red. "Let's go home."

#kim's fics #gradalis #gawain #morgan le fay #the listebros and kay are there too ig but we focus!!

[noemitenshi]

Kinktober Day 8 - Wax play

Prompt day 8: wax play (wohoo! on time for once 😁)

Fandom: Fear the Walking Dead

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Crazy Dog(Lee)/Troy Otto/Original Female Character

Summary: Lee found some candles in the apocalypse and put them to good use. Takes place in the same universe, probably days/weeks after I can’t stop imagining hurting you

Read the continuation here

Word Count: 1113

Title: Paint your body in hues of red

---

Lee took in the scene before him with great satisfaction, both his lovers before him on the bed, Troy in the arms of Ri, naked and covered in candle wax.

Oh, the moment Lee had seen those candles in on of their scavenger hunts he knew they’d all enjoy them. And that was what happened. Troy had been adorably clueless when Lee had showed them his loot, once they were back at the house, cleaned up and free of obligations for the day. Though Troy must have had his suspicions, where this would Lee, when he saw the look on Lee’s face, that newfound expression of his – both sweet and unbearably smug at the same time.

Ri, of course, had made the connection instantly and she hadn’t really known how she felt about it – had a plethora of feelings to choose from. Delight at Lee’s delight, kinda turned on by the greed in Troy’s expression, somewhat amused by Lee’s content smugness and at the same time somewhat eye-rolly over it.

“What…” Troy had asked and bit his lip, “What are you gonna do with them?” Lee’s smirk had deepened (and how did he manage to both smirk and look like an absolute sweetheart at the same time?! Ri wondered)

“I’ll light them,” he’d replied, voice low. And so it had started, this dance of theirs, Ri thought. The way Lee managed to pull Troy in by just a look, a phrase. Guiding and narrowing his focus to what was about to happen to him, what Lee would do. Troy’s breathing was already shallow in anticipation. And she’d be lying if she’d say this didn’t affect her, watching this push and pull between them, their connection so clear in those moments as if she could see it. Feel it. Touch it. It was intoxicating.

“What then?” Troy asked breathless.

“Then…” Lee said slowly, “I’ll paint your pretty body in hues of red, rivulets of liquid wax pearling on your skin. How much, do you think, could you take of this…?”

Turned out Troy could take a lot.

Oh and how wonderfully he quivered and hissed, especially when Lee was drip, drip, dripping the red wax on his more sensitive skin. He looked obscenely beautiful, his naked form splayed on the bed, half-sitting, half-leaning against Ri, holding himself still, so still, so he wouldn’t crack the cooled wax on his skin. His chest heaving, whether with the effort or arousal was anyone’s guess. And that he was aroused, well, that wasn’t a question at all, his cock proudly jutting, leaking precum as if not understanding the precariousness of the situation.

Lee had enjoyed every twitch and shudder, every gasp on choked off little cry and as he let his eyes roam Troy’s body now, he recalled all of them. God, Troy was driving him crazy, both how he refused to look away from him, challenging, challenging… or, was this Troy showing him, assuring him of what he could take. Demanding more?

“Had enough yet?” Lee asked, searchingly, when he felt he’d stretched Troy’s patience thin enough,

“No,” Troy’s answer came without hesitation, such defiance in it. Lee had hoped he’d say hat and he tipped his hand, pouring hot wax down the length of Troy’s erection, making him shriek. The first sound he hadn’t managed to keep low or choke off. Lee smiled contently and poured some more wax over Troy’s opened thighs. This time, there was no shriek, but he did groan, painfully. And it only got him harder. Lee licked his lips, admiring his work.

“Do you feel properly violated yet, baby?” he asked huskily.

Troy looked at lee searchingly, trying to read on his expression what he wanted to hear. Lee just looked back at him, all sweet and curious. It gave Troy nothing and so he went with the truth.

“Yes.”

Ri’s fingers dug into Troy’s skin where she held him and he gasped, wondering if she didn’t approve. If this was one step too far for her.

Lee’s sweet expression, on the other hand, softened completely at Troy’s answer and it got even a little bit dreamy.

“You look…” he started, voice just as dreamy and Troy felt his cheeks burn. He must look quite pitiful he thought.

“How?” he asked, never one to back down though.

“Like you’re mine. Mine to do with as I please…”

Oh, Troy hadn’t expected that, the absolute adoration in Lee’s voice, his gaze. And that hunger.

“Does it… please you?” he asked, then, bolder now but still trepidarious, still not quite able to believe it, even after… everything, “Aren’t you just doing this t-to indulge my … perversity?”

Lee knew where Troy’s question was going, could’ve cut him off with his answer at any time. He didn’t, though, letting Troy stumble through this out of this newfound sadistic streak. It both melted his heart and shot sharp arousal through him, the way Troy’s voice was shaking, what he was saying about himself and he moved, abruptly, almost a reflex, climbed on the bed and covered Troy’s lips in a frantic kiss. He slowed down soon, to deepen it, to let Troy revel in it. And Troy did, he could feel his enthusiasm, his love. God, how did he get so lucky? His heart felt so full with all he was feeling, almost too much, it was almost painful – painful because he was sure Troy didn’t know, but he should know. And so he did the only thing he could think of, tipping his hand again, letting wax pour at the side of Troy’s chest so it dripped down his side, too, where the skin was very sensitive…

The surprise of the pain – or maybe the contrast of it made Troy cry out and he caught a very satisfied expression on Lee’s face. Just a small smirk but it was so very telling, that Lee was so very content with himself and god damn if this wasn’t the hottest thing, actual proof that Lee did like this too, a lot.

And Troy groaned in surprise when Lee closed his hand around his cock, kissing him again, pumping softly, breaking the wax in places.

“You like it, hm, being mine to do with as I please…” Lee whispered and Troy just moaned helplessly. The thought of being wanted like that, so thoroughly, was driving him insane.

“Mhm, yeah you do,” Lee answered his own question, his grip tightening, “You’re ready to pop aren’t you? Wonder if you can hold off until I’ve got my lips wrapped around your cock…” Troy whined, not sure he could, not sure he wanted to.

And Lee took his time.                                                               

#kinktober2022 #kinktober 2022 #troy otto #ftwd #ftwd fanfic #troy otto/crazy dog/ofc #troy otto/crazy dog #fanfic #my fic #paint your body in hues of red