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smeddiemunson · 2 years

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(part 1 here)

After they narrowly escape being fucked up by what Eddie had planned for them (a goblin ambush they were completely underprepared for), the Hellfire members took their sweet time in clearing up after themselves; an unspoken agreement between the older members to hang around long enough to see just how Eddie behaves around Steve.

Gareth didn’t think Dustin had figured it out. He just connected dots he doesn’t know are on the same playing board, Eddie’s mystery crush and Steve’s favourite song nothing more than a coincidence. Or at least Gareth hoped that’s how it’s playing out, he knew it took a lot, more than his posturing would ever imply, for Eddie to reveal his big secret to the band. He didn’t want Eddie to have to confront that again until he felt ready, even if it is just to some kids.

Jeff was kneeling on the floor, reaching under the table where he pretended to drop a bag of dice when Steve began to make his way down the stairs.

Over his shoulder he called out, “Thank you, Mrs Wheeler!”

Jeff didn’t see the way Eddie perked up just at the sound of his voice, but Gareth and Grant certainly did.

“Are you flirting with Mrs Wheeler again, Stevie?” Eddie teased, ignoring the way Mike retched and groaned about it being gross.

‘Stevie?’ Gareth mouthed to Grant, who just shrugged. Nicknames are a dime a dozen when Eddie decides he likes a person. Gareth had been Gare-Bear for as long as he’d known him, Jeff was Jeffy, and Grant got to be ad-Grant-age. Stevie was a bit different, Stevie was close, affectionate in a way that the nicknames that usually spilled from Eddie’s lips weren’t.

This was maybe worse than they thought.

The last crush Eddie had was there and gone almost in a blink of an eye. Connor from his home room who doodled stick figure drawings of their teachers to pass to Eddie every morning until the jocks got to him and Eddie was cast aside again. But for two precious weeks, Eddie was happy, nice, and didn’t freak when Grant snapped a guitar string that meant they couldn’t practise until he got his hands on a replacement.

This was wholly different. Steve didn’t even bat an eyelash at the affectionate tone, in fact, Gareth thought he saw a faint pinkness colour his cheeks; though he didn’t know if it was just the heat of the basement that did it.

“Convincing her you haven’t yet corrupted her children more like,” Steve laughed.

Jeff, who had now appeared from under the table, made a half aborted motion towards Mike that only Gareth and Grant could see from their side of the table. There was no question that Eddie had sunk his claws into Wheeler and the boy was fully corrupted. If they didn’t know better, they could’ve confused Mike for Eddie’s brother, the resemblance now so uncanny.

Eddie smiled. A real one that took up his whole face and made his eyes sparkle.

Definitely worse than they thought.

Steve turned to the kids. “Henderson, you’re with me. Byers you’re with Eddie. Sinclair, I trust you can walk next door without supervision?” He glanced at his watch while Lucas nodded as if this weren’t the first time he’d been questioned in such a way. “And we’ve got thirty minutes until curfew so get moving.”

The kids, naturally grumbled but they didn’t argue, which was yet another weird thing for the Corroded Coffin boys to experience. Those kids argued with everything.

“Oh hey, Ed, Argyle is getting in late Friday night so pool party at mine on Saturday. You in?” Steve dug his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, trying to act casual, as if he didn’t care about Eddie’s answer. But it was clear as day to Gareth, who didn’t even know him, that Steve really really cared.

Eddie’s face fell. “Sorry, band practice on Saturday. We’ve got a show coming up so…”

Gareth jumped in before he had to watch either of them start crying. “You can go after, Eddie. My mom’ll kill me if we spend all day in the garage anyway.”

Steve’s face lit up like it was Christmas morning.

Now Gareth couldn’t be certain, he wasn’t certain about anything in his life except for his love of Iron Maiden and the reality that he was never leaving Hawkins, but he was fairly sure Steve Harrington might just return Eddie’s feelings.

“Awesome! Hey, you guys should come too! It’s only gonna be a small thing: me, Robin, Nancy, Jonathan and his friend Argyle.”

“Um, thanks, but—“ Jeff cut off in his refusal with a groan as Gareth and Grant not so subtly dug their elbows into his stomach.

They were going to have to spend more time in the orbit of Eddie-and-Steve if Gareth was going to be able to figure out if feelings were a two way street. He wasn’t super excited about the prospect of spending all afternoon playing nice with rich kids, but he’d done worse things for the sake of making Eddie happy. He could do this as well.

“We’d love to!” Grant filled in a little too excitedly. Gareth shot him a look that hopefully conveyed his need to calm down.

“Where do you live?”

Steve smiled. “Teddy knows, he’s been enough times. Oh and you’re welcome to crash after, if you want. There’s enough space.”

“Teddy,” Gareth echoed. They all knew about Eddie’s mom’s nickname for him. Eddie’s dead mom’s nickname for him, and the way he never wanted a reminder.

Steve laughed. “Yeah because he’s just so cuddle-able!”

Eddie, through clenched teeth and a bright red blush, hissed. “Shut up.”

Oh and his eyes pleaded with Gareth to let it go, that they wouldn’t talk about it later.

Clue 5. Eddie was completely aware of how smitten he was.

“We’ll be there, Harrington,” Gareth said, the finality on the matter that Jeff would be arguing with him about later.

Steve smiled so wide it was almost blinding. He left with a squeeze to Eddie’s shoulder, hand lingering longer than necessary, and Dustin moaning about why the kids hadn’t been invited to a pool party.

There were two things Gareth knew for sure. One: Eddie wasn’t just crushing on Steve Harrington, he was well on his way to being in love with him. Two: Steve was either just the chillest guy alive (unlikely) or he returned Eddie’s feelings.

Either way, Gareth had some meddling to do.

(part 3)

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #my fic #gareth emerson #corroded coffin #this is getting away from me #if you asked to be tagged in part 2 i'm very sorry i haven't done that #it was really hard to keep track of and i didn't want to accidentally leave someone out

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fayeriess · 7 months

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⋆｡‧₊°♱༺ CHERRY FLAVOURED ༻♱༉‧₊˚.

ellie williams x fem!reader

summary: when you and ellie started your situationship, you had one single request; a bag of cherries every time she showed up at your doorstep. unfortunately, you want more than that.

warnings: 18+, smut, angst at the end if you squint, mentions of weed, weed consumption, cunnilingus, kinda sorta dealer!ellie ( not all that relevent to the plot ), ellie's kind of a dick, womanzier!ellie, not proof-read

a/n: a repost because i deleted my old account on a whim ;)

The tips of your fingers were coated in crimson.

Red and sticky.

Warm wetness trickling down your palms' creases, spreading sugary stained streaks onto the heat of your velvet skin; something you grew indifferent to. It was always so messy — the plump fruit surrounded by the shelter of your mouth, sweet and addicting every single time. Even with a bad full, they were something you’d savor with every inch of your being, as they were too small to enjoy fully. There would be at least five seconds of flavor before you were left with a bitter taste on the surface of your tongue, a wine-red tint coating the lingual papillae to give you something to remember them by.

Your constant craving was satiated, alongside the need to see the person that brought them for you every Wednesday without fail. Three sharp knocks on the scuffed steel of your front door were the beginning of five months entwined in your sheets, sinking into the comfort of your mattress. The scent of cherry blossom and freshly washed linen stuck to you as if to taunt you whenever she’d leave in the middle of the night, love bites littered across the expanse of your chest, reaching the insides of your soul.

Just like those fucking cherries you were addicted to — you were addicted to her.

Ellie.

The girl stood at a measly five foot three. Kissed from head to toe with freckles that dotted her gentle skin in a multitude of clusters, eyes as green as the moss that’d grow in the crevices of your roof, and a seemingly unbearable attitude to those she rendered unworthy of her time and presence. You, unlike other people, got to experience two of those things from her simultaneously in the form of discarded clothes and rushed greedy touches.

The unwavering connection between you two was there from the moment she laid her irises on you in that hazy, smoke-filled basement last October at Ollie’s. A fat joint laced with bad intentions between the pink, plump flesh of her lips as she weighed the two options that arose. Either she could approach you, ask you for your name, and smooth talk her way into your heart till the pads of her fingers made it past the waistband of your underwear — or — she could keep still on that withering couch she sat on and smoke her head off.

And it was such an easy choice for her, that she mentally hit herself for even thinking of the latter.

That one, singular encounter changed the trajectory of her life, as dramatic as it sounded. The reason for that one was fairly simple.

You tasted too fucking good.

That was the only reason she found herself here. Her head between the fat of your thighs, warm breath hitting your cunt just like the many times before this one, hands squeezing the outside of your skin so hard you were sure they’d be marked for the next few hours.

“Ellie, c’mon.” You hissed through clenched teeth, jaw grinding in annoyance at the lack of attention you were receiving. She was right there. So fucking close to your core that all she had to do was dart her tongue out and the arousal that coated your slick would pour onto her tastebuds.

“You keep talking and I swear I’ll fucking leave.” She spat, narrowing her eyes at you, watching as you clicked your tongue on the roof of your mouth.

Curling your lips into a frown, your elbows dug into the springs as you propped yourself up. “You wouldn’t.”

She rose an eyebrow, the skin of her forehead creasing slightly before she tightened her grip on your thighs, a twinge of interest sparkling in those dark eyes. “But I would.”

As she lazily drawled out those three words, her right hand snaked its way to your core. Her index finger slid through your folds with ease, a slight buck of your hips stopping them from moving any further.

You were soaked. It was as obvious as her favoritism toward you. Not just as one of her clients, but as the girl she occasionally fucked with no strings attached from time to time.

From the low lighting of the lamp on the corner of your nightstand, your slick glistened in the sliver of light that shone behind her head when she lowered it even further.

“You’re so fucking wet f’me, princess.”

The guttural whine that left your throat was animalistic. Something that sneakily blended in with the blood in your veins and tainted every healthy cell in your body, starting from the very back of your brain to the tips of your curling toes.

With your hands grasping the light green and pink polka dot sheets that decorated your bed, you took a sudden interest in drawing invisible patterns on the ceiling in your head, shuddering when the muscle of her tongue finally made contact with your clit.

“Oh — fuck!”

Giving you no chance to recover, she continued, flicking her tongue so harshly, that you were positive she’d have lockjaw by the end of the session.

“Always letting me fuck you so good.” She murmured against you, hollowing out her cheeks as she sucked, taking every last drop of your wetness into her mouth as if she was being deprived of water.

Wednesday’s were your favorite day of the week thanks to her. It was as if she were an excessive amount of caffeine you desperately wanted as soon as your heavy lids opened. Except, she wasn’t black coffee, albeit the bitterness rooted deep within her. She was the bag of cherries that sat in your refrigerator, rationed throughout the week as a means to keep them longer.

At first, you thought of it as foolish to share yourself so intimately with someone you barely knew. To poke a finger into your chest and claw the flesh apart with your bare hands, bearing your entire soul.

She still didn’t know your favorite color. She still didn’t know your favorite book. Hell, she still didn’t even know if you preferred smoking joints or blunts.

But, what she did know was how to touch you. And that — that was just fine.

“Oh my god, right there.” You chanted in a hushed whisper, over and over until her hot hands had traveled from your thighs to your hipbones. Thumbs gently tracing circles over the skin there as she devoured you as if she were starved, nose nudging the top of your pussy.

It was only then that your phone vibrated atop the wood of your nightstand, shaking so violently, that it had shuffled a couple of inches.

“Ignore it.”

Ellie's gruff voice came from under you, lips detaching from your cunt to speak, the flesh there glistening with your juices before she dove in once more.

The buzz that sounded in your ears had dissipated. A small beat of silence took over before it began again.

With a sigh, you shuffled onto your elbows again, outstretching an arm to grab the device with straight fingers, unsuccessful in your attempt.

“What if I — shit,” The ridges of her teeth skimmed over your clit, causing your hips to buck into her face involuntarily. Your throat was dry from the deep inhales and exhales during this sexual encounter and she had only just started.

“What if it’s important?” The question came out of your lips in a breathy sigh, head growing hazy at her touch.

She hummed, “It can wait.”

It couldn’t because the moment those words were out in the air, it buzzed again.

“The fuck…”

Lifting herself from her position clad in nothing but boy shorts and a thin wife beater, Ellie crawled over you, her weight emitting a groan from the creaks in the springs within the mattress as she pressed her clothed chest flush against yours.

Without warning, her fingers flexed, snatching your phone from its spot before you the lids of your eyes could open back up again. You watched curiously as her mossy green eyes scanned the text on the screen, rolling them after as she pursed her lips into a thin line.

“Why’s Ollie calling you?” The question held a small hint of suspicion, and that was something you heard clearly despite her effort to hide it.

You were just fuck buddies. Nothing more than that. So why did your heart jump within your chest as if it were going to escape your body at any second?

Shaking your head from side to side, you tilted your chin at her, shrugging your shoulders nonchalantly. “I dunno…”

“I’m gonna call back.” She stated, making her way to your contacts and scrolling through the alphabetical format, pressing on his name with a thumb.

Outstretching your arms, you huffed, exhaling dramatically as you gently shoved her off of you. Sitting up, you leaned against the bedframe, knees tucked close to your bare chest, goosebumps forming at the sudden cold rush of air that weaved its way around your frame.

The low hum became louder as Ellie held out your phone between the both of you, tight grip never faltering as she narrowed her eyes at the screen. She was staring at it harshly, her gaze practically burning holes into the device as it rang once, then twice before a ‘finally’ sounded in your ears.

“Fucking finally, where the fuck is Ellie?”

Snorting, you rolled your eyes. “Well hello to you too Ollie.”

“Yeah, yeah, hey. Where’s Ellie?”

“What makes you think I'm with her?”

“Because her location is pinpointed to your house. Am I on speaker?”

Licking your lips as a means to moisturize them, you cocked your neck to the side, raising a brow at Ellie who sighed. “Yeah, you are. What’s up?”

Crackling static could be heard on the other end of the line, followed by shuffling and a female voice that sounded all too familiar to you.

“Uh, I kinda need to buy off of you again.”

Ellie looked around your room for a while, taking in the different array of patterns that decorated each article of furniture that gave away a whole lot more than your personality. For a second, Ollie’s talking seemed to grow muffled, as she marked every place in that small space that she fucked you on.

It was something that had etched itself in the inner corners of her mind as she struggled to come to terms with what exactly she felt every time she got down on her knees. For you.

Every. Single. Time.

Sometimes, she’d lay awake at night, curled up under the sheets, wearing exactly what she is right now — sitting here with you. Being intimate — with you. Sure, she sold her weed and made her money, accompanied by a stone-faced facade, but handing drugs to girls who’d let their hands linger a little too long on her skin, always sent her back to you at the end of the night with a plastic Tupperware container filled halfway with those cherries only sold downtown.

Clearing the rising lump in her throat, the auburn-haired girl tugged her bottom lip between her teeth soon after. “Sure. Do you need me right now?”

Ollie laughed humorously as if Ellie had said one of the funniest things in the world, and you had assumed it directly wasn’t aimed toward her due to the high-pitched yell. “If that’s cool with you.”

Observing as Ellie lifted herself from her position next to you, your eyes followed as she leaned down at the end of the bed to tug on the jeans she had previously discarded in the heated haze of your earlier makeout session.

Tossing the phone on the bed, Ellie focused her attention on buttoning her jeans, the worn band tee she showed up in following immediately after.

“C’mon.”

A puzzled look painted your features, the corners of your eyes creasing as you narrowed your eyes at her figure near the door.

“I’m not going to Ollie’s alone. His girlfriend’s weird.”

You grimaced.

“Are you seriously dragging me with you?”

━━━━ ◦: ✧✲✧ :◦━━━━

Ollie’s girlfriend, Penelope, wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows as he made her seem. It was something that should’ve been obvious to you from the beginning due to how highly he talked about her, albeit being dramatic at the same time. But since he was sort of a friend, you wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. The first time you met her, the brunette immediately started talking your ear off about how the color of your shirt wasn’t really appealing to the eyes, index finger twirling a strand of her hair as she tried to make up for the comment with back-handed compliments.

She was something… and that was to put it in the nicest way you could, cementing it into your brain that she just didn’t like you.

Internally, you were cursing Ollie out. Externally, you held it together better than you thought you would as she ranted to you about one of her many friends with a lit joint in hand, waving it back and forth.

You were sat directly across from her, muscles tense and spine rigid on an ottoman, one leg crossed over the other, lips pulled back into a small snarl that she hadn’t noticed. The cool outside air did little to relax your body as the unease that overtook you moments ago, seemed to spread quicker than you thought it would.

“ — I told her that she shorted me like twelve dollars. I mean I was valid in that, right? The tag was missing off the skirt.” Extending her arm out to you, she wiggled the blunt between two fingers for you to take, which you did a little too enthusiastically.

Putting it between your lips, you inhaled, closing your eyes for a second as the smoke wafted into your line of vision. Nodding, you decided to play along with her, not in the mood to piss her off just yet. “That’s understandable. I wouldn’t wanna pay the full price either.”

Peeling your gaze away from Penelope, you watched as the smoke you exhaled swirled in different directions, lifting into the multi-colored sky. You needed this.

“I knew I liked you. But, you don’t have to lie to me y’know, I was just fucking with you about the skirt thing. I would never buy a skirt without a tag.”

Feeling warmth rise under the flesh that covered the apples of your cheeks, you shook your leg, scanning the patio deck for any sign of Ellie who had disappeared inside the house with Ollie for what seemed like too long.

Penelope leaned back in her seat, cautiously letting her brown eyes roam down your stiff body, narrowing them after. “So, like are you and Ellie a thing?”

Taking another drag, you held it out for her to take, eying her from your peripheral inconspicuously the moment she took her eyes off of you. “No.”

The answer that was processed in her mind was short, and in response, she clicked her tongue on the roof of her smoke-filled mouth. She was unsatisfied with your answer. “You gotta give me more than that.”

Her voice went an octave lower as she leaned toward you, ready for you to spill all of your darkest secrets to her. “There’s nothing else to give.” You spat, eliciting a hum from her.

“I don’t think that’s it. Ollie tells me that you two just fuck.”

Furrowing your brows, you let genuine confusion write itself on your features as you crossed your arms, curling into yourself the more she spoke.

It was then that she sighed, taking another hit before extending it out to you. “Listen, I didn’t mean to say it like that… it’s just the way she talks about you is just…”

A twinge of curiosity sparked within you as she searched the jumbling words in her brain, sorting them in a way to soften the upcoming blow. “... it rubs me the wrong way like you’re just there to convenience her or some shit.”

“What?”

The air was knocked out of your lungs, and hairs on your arms raised, creating an itch all over that you wanted to scratch more than anything.

“Listen, I know you don’t think I don’t like you.”

“I-”

“You deserve something better than just sneaking around with someone like her. Her history with other women is fucked up, girl. Be careful.”

With that, she directed her attention toward the patio door, watching as it slid open.

Someone like her. What the fuck was that supposed to mean?

Those words were all that hit you when Ellie rubbed your left shoulder, telling you that it was time to go. They consumed you when you had buckled yourself up in the passenger seat of her car. They ate you when the tears in your eyes started to burn as you leaned your forehead against the window.

The drive was a little too quiet, and Ellie had been slyly giving you little looks throughout the trip, internally arguing with herself to ask about your sudden change of mood.

“What’s w —”

“Am I just someone you like to fuck every week?”

The question had caught her so off guard that her foot had nearly lifted off the gas and slammed on the break as she swerved slightly. Twisting her neck in your direction, she let her eyebrows furrow together. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Closing your eyes, you swiped at a fallen tear swiftly with the back of your hand, wiping it on the denim of your jeans after. “Now that I actually fucking think about it, we don’t do anything other than screw each other.”

It was something you had meant to say to yourself, rather than aloud, but on the quietness of the car — even under the low hum of the music playing from the car radio, she heard every single word.

“Where’s this coming from?”

Shrugging your shoulders, you kept your head forward, noting the street you were on when she had turned into a familiar neighborhood about three minutes away from your destination.

“I’m just saying.”

Ellie scoffed, not believing a single word that bitterly came out of your mouth. “Yeah, okay.” You didn’t even have to look at her to know she was rolling her eyes as far back as they could go as she pulled into your driveway. “What’d she say to you.”

Fuck.

“She didn’t say anything.” You insisted, moving to tug the door handle open. Right before you could, she pressed down on the lock button, trapping you inside the car with her.

“I know she said something to you. You were all smiley when we got there, now you’re crying.” Pressing the matter even further, she twisted her body as much as the driver's side allowed, giving you all her undivided attention.

Still refusing to look at her, you breathed in through your nose. “Ellie, I want you to be serious with me for a minute, please. All we do is hook up with each other. That’s not something that I find myself needing anymore now that I'm actually putting my brain to use.”

Your eyes darted across her face, watching when her hand came up to pinch the bridge of her nose — something she did while irritated. You wanted her to be truthful, and it was something she had a slight problem with as she sat there, a knot of unease developing within her empty stomach so tightly, that her body grew numb. “You’re making it more complicated than it has to be. I thought we made shit clear from the beginning that this was all it ever was gonna be.”

You scoffed, grinding your teeth together as the pressure behind your eyes burned once more. You shouldn’t have said anything. You shouldn’t have said a fucking word.

From the minute she approached you with that fucking toothy grin on her lips — you shouldn’t have said a word because look at you now.

Crying for someone who clearly doesn’t want you back.

“I just took it too far.”

#the last of us #ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie the last of us #ellie x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams imagine #tlou part 2 #the last of us 2 #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams smut #ellie williams angst

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ashwhowrites · 7 months

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Eddie Munson x cheerleader! Reader, what if Eddie starts receiving some secret admirer letters that don't have any signature on them, only some red lipstick kiss on it and he's curious about who can that be, only when he's on a deal with Cheerleader! Reader, that she's starts to apply some red lipstick on that he connects the dots and he just jumps in excitement saying IT'S YOU! and reader is like Idk what are you talking about (just pretending not to know) but then when Eddie sits again she just starts to talk again and she gest closer to him and then kisses him?

-🩷

Thank you for requesting! I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it <3

Red lipstick

Eddie Munson wasn't a guy that girls fawned over. He wasn't a guy girls chase around and try to win over. More like, they ran from him. If he ever had a crush, it was nearly impossible it would be responded to nicely.

He also wasn't friends with girls. He barely talked to any, unless it was on a deal. So imagine the confusion he had when he randomly started to receive little notes. Almost like a secret admirer note. The notes didn't say much, a few words that complimented him in some way. Some talked about his clothes, hair, rings, smile, or his laugh. Which meant this person constantly saw him and was close enough to notice small details.

He had a good feeling it was his friends playing a joke, but he wasn't sure if they'd be that mean. He had a feeling it was a girl based on the neat handwriting, oh! And the fact that every note had a lipstick kiss on it. A deep red, a red that would stain lips. He had to admit, he weirdly stared at his friend's lips lately, trying to see if any smudge of red was still there.

He always received them at the end of each day, in his locker. Well, he assumed, when the notes first started he never went to his locker. One day he needed a random book and tons of notes scattered on the floor by his boots. The excitement of reading the notes brought him back to check his locker every single day. And whenever he checked, there it was. Folded neatly, his name was written on the top with the red kiss mark.

He had no idea who it could be. He didn't talk to any girl one on one unless it was during a deal. And the girls he met with were cheerleaders....no way in hell would a cheerleader be into him.

~~~

Eddie kept the collection of notes in his backpack, not like anything else was in there.

His friends teased him about it all the time. To a point, he believes they aren't part of it.

"Miss lover girl write another one? "

"I bet you kiss the notes at night."

"does it smell like perfume?"

"Are we sure it's not Jason in drag?"

But right now he had to put the mystery aside and work on a deal.

He hummed a song as he sat on the bench, waiting patiently for his next customer. With the extra time, he dug into a few of the notes, his head pounding as he tried to figure out who the hell it was. It's been weeks and weeks. And he still came up with nothing.

"Whatcha got there?" A voice came from behind him. He jumped and quickly hid the notes. He zipped up his backpack as Y/N walked around the table and sat down.

"Nothing!" He squeaked out. She eyed him carefully but moved on. Her movements seemed a little nervous.

He did the deal as usual, but with Y/N they tend to talk about random shit to pass the time. The weed was placed in her backpack, but yet they talked for over an hour.

Her lips were over her water bottle as she sipped the rest of it. She groaned as she noticed there wasn't a lipstick mark, knowing her lips must have been uncoated for a while.

She dug into her backpack, scratching for the small black tube. She smiled once she grabbed it. She grabbed her small compact mirror and opened it.

Eddie watched mindlessly, letting her do her thing as he took in her features. He knew she was beautiful and he knew that she knew it too. The way her lips puckered out as she applied the red stick to her lips. WAIT! RED!

Eddie snatched the lipstick from her hand.

"Eddie what the fuck!"

He ignored her, he smeared the stick against his wrist, the red soaking his skin. The color was familiar and the texture of it was the same.

He smiled excitedly, he figured it out.

He couldn't handle his outburst. He jumped from his seat, disbelief on his face.

"ITS YOU!" He couldn't believe it. A cheerleader, no! Y/N! was writing him love notes.

"Huh?"

"THE NOTES!"

Y/N felt her face heat up, but denied.

"I have no idea what you're talking about!" She snatched back her lipstick. She quickly threw it in her backpack but Eddie already had the stain on his skin.

He dug out the notes, flipping one over. The blank side faced him as he slid it over to her.

"Kiss it." He said he didn't care how crazy he sounded. This has been driving him crazy for weeks.

"I'm not kissing a piece of paper." She argued

"Just DO IT!"

She slouched and grabbed the paper. Embarrassed she pressed her lips against the paper. Something she's done countless times, but now in front of him feels so stupid. Why did she think this was a good idea?

Eddie sat down, more calm as he grabbed the paper and matched it with the others.

"It's you."

"Yeah! You've said that!" Y/N snapped. She was panicking. He hasn't said anything but "it's you!" Over and over. Was he happy it was her? Mad? Disappointed? She couldn't tell and it was making her nervous.

"But why?" He asked. The confusion was clear on his face.

"What do you mean why? Why do people send love notes, Munson." She said in a duh tone. She didn't like being played with.

"Well if you like someone! But that's not the case here, so why?" Now that he knew who it was, he couldn't help but feel stung. It was a cheerleader, and he stands by no cheerleader liking him. It must have been a joke with the team or a joke with Jason.

He was hurt by it. He thought they had a small friendship. He liked talking to her and it seemed like she enjoyed being around him too. She didn't run away after the deal, she didn't look over her shoulder in a panic if anyone saw.

Y/N sighed and decided to make another move. She got up and moved to sit next to him. She was nervous, but he probably was even worse.

"I do like you." She admitted quietly, she wasn't sure if he heard it. She barely heard it herself.

"We talk every week...why did you never say anything?" He asked

"I was scared!" She laughed, "I didn't want you to laugh in my face. I know you hate the popular kids and you hate my friends. I was scared you hated me too."

He moved his hand down to his lap, her hand inches away on the bench. He took a deep breath and slowly slid his hand over. His pinky hits hers.

"I like you too. I mean it's hard for me to believe you do like me and this isn't a prank. But I also feel like that's not something you'd do." He explained. "I'm really happy it was you."

He could feel her body perch up, a big smile on her face as she turned her head to look at him.

"Really? Happy?" She asked, he turned his head to match her.

"Mhhm! I always thought you were beautiful. But I don't recall you ever wearing red lipstick on our deals so I didn't exactly expect it to be you."

"I didn't. I barely wear it, only when I usually do the notes. But I guess I was hoping if I slipped up, you'd notice." She admitted

They sat in silence for a moment, just looking at each other. That's when she noticed how close they were. His pinky was still against hers, their shoulders practically touching.

"Can I kiss you, Eddie Munson?" She asked, her heart pounding.

Eddie has never heard those words in his life. He had a first kiss, but it was on a dare and the girl ran away after. He still remembers how sad he was. But now he had a gorgeous girl wanting to kiss him.

"Yes" he breathed, his heart raced as she leaned in. His cheek burned as her hand held it softly. He's never had someone touch him so delicately. Like he was something special you'd be careful with.

Time froze when her lips touched his. He wasn't sure what to do at first, his hand slowly moved to her thigh, resting his palm against her bare skin as he tried to kiss back. He's seen it in movies, and he's heard his friends talk about it. But he's never heard anyone talk about how amazing he felt. He'd never heard anyone talk about the way his body tingled, the way he felt like he wanted to giggle and scream. He's never heard anyone talk about the pure feeling of happiness and desire running through their body.

But maybe that's because no one kissed her

Tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @manyfandomsfanvergentreblogs @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson request #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff x reader #eddie munson angst x reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x cheerleader #ashwhowrites

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originalaccountname · 9 months

Text

Finally caved and did my perceived timeline of what happened to Chuuya, from being brought into the lab for project Arahabaki to being taken out of it.

I originally thought about mentioning it in my Chuuya's true original ability being to amplify others' abilities post, but it was way too long, and not as solid an argument to that specific topic.

Because this is about Chuuya being the original, not the clone, but more importantly the why and how that is the case.

Chuuya's humanity is the core question of SB, and the most important part is that in the end, Chuuya chose to accept himself despite it all, and that no matter what, he is himself and no one can take that away from him.

But once we have been given all the pieces of the puzzle, we can try connecting the dots and deduce the true story behind it all.

Project Arahabaki was built to create an ability weapon based on the recovered notes of Pan, a French researcher and Verlaine's creator. The technique uses the clone of a human with a "fake" psyche (persona model) who is fused with a singularity life-form. The clone's original should have an ability able to create a self-referencing singularity (to manifest gravity powers). Pan even had a special ability metal to brainwash that individual. Basically, this concept is supposed to create an overpowered flesh puppet.

So. Project Arahabaki. They needed an original with an ability that could produce a singularity on its own, which is super rare. Joy oh joy, there just so happen to be this boy, the son of a military doctor, who fits these needs! They just need his DNA/some cells to create a clone to use in their project. It's the middle of the war, ethics are disregarded, plus no "real child" should be harmed in the making of this weapon. No biggie, right? Lend us your son for the sake of the country!

Except we know that boy, officially at least, died during the war.

According to N's timeline, there once was this certain boy who managed to create a singularity with his ability while under the supervision of scientists, but got swallowed by the black hole it created, never to return.

He also had Chuuya's supposed "original" stuck in a tube full of mystery liquid, the same kind Chuuya once was in, but that one's flesh and organs melted when exposed to air (normal behaviour), changing it into a skeleton that can be ordered around like an overpowered puppet (literally on strings. The tubes in its back controlled it and kept it going, but would severely limit its range)

Back to our Chuuya:

All N does is lie, so we can't take his word as the simple truth. Chuuya was a miracle they never managed to reproduce. Why is that?

In Rimbaud's notes, he says how in their operation to retrieve the new ability weapon Japan was developing (based on Verlaine), they managed to identify the artificial being, aka the clone, A2-5-8. In the flashback, Rimbaud is absolutely positive it is him, so we have to assume this information was recorded as-is somewhere.

And yet, Dazai is the one to suggest later that, perhaps, the original and the clone had been swapped.

And wouldn't that make everything else make sense?

The clone(s) never managed to hold up to the quality standard necessary to be useful outside of their confines. The skeleton approach was the lab trying something different, like N admitted so to Verlaine. There ever only was one successful attempt, a "miracle", Chuuya. The original child is thought to be dead, yet N the liar supposedly had him in a tube, ready to turn him into a skeleton(???). Rimbaud and Verlaine thought for sure they had the artificial life-form, the clone, but they got Chuuya, who has a graphite scar from before he lost his memories, with a past that was able to be dug up by the Flags and Port Mafia.

My conclusion is this: N swapped out a clone for the original child. His research wasn't giving the proper results, but he had found a workaround, where he could use the original instead of his clone, for better/faster results.

Chuuya is the only one who could harness "Arahabaki" in any way that would remotely resemble "Guivre". Chuuya is the only one who could operate autonomously. That's why N wanted to remove "Arahabaki" and try to factory-reset Chuuya before putting it back in: because there really is only one of him, and he couldn't afford losing him if he wanted to continue his research.

#Was this done behind everyone's back or was it an official cover-up?#Was a clone killed as cover up? did they manage to save the child that should have been dead?#did they simply write an official death certificate and called it a day?#all fun questions that we can't know for certain #bsd #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bsd analysis #bsd timeline #bsd stormbringer #bsd storm bringer #stormbringer #storm bringer #stormbringer spoilers #bsd chuuya #bsd nakahara chuuya #apparently i talk sometimes #edited to add the transcripts in the image description because for some reason some of them weren't there?????

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mabelstone · 13 days

Text

Why would you be loved?

hozier x f!reader

part two of lullabies <3 | part one | masterlist

cw: teeeeeny bit of violence at very beginning ... also 18+ ok if u are unfamiliar with me... this is my thing. this character is FICTIONAL before u attack me for sexualising THE hozier

word count: 3.2k

*i've decided i'd like this to be a slow burn... but don't worry! i will add things to keep u interested (or attempt to)

The sticky slap of their skin echoed through the room, my heart thudding loud enough in my ears to deafen the noise.

I lurched forward, grabbing the leggy blonde from the bar by her hair, yanking her off of Joe and slamming her naked body into the wall. She gasped loudly, falling onto the ground where she watched on in horror. I grabbed the nearest object I could reach - his bedside lamp - smashing the ceramic over his head, screaming in his face about how he's fucked this up for good.

Except that's not what happened.

I opened the door to the same scenario, except I didn't lose my temper and tear the two of them to shreds. My heart still pounded harder than ever, but I simply backed out into the hall without a sound. My eyes must've been something of a Tim Burton character as I walked back outside, leaving the front door wide open. I didn't even grab anything as my handbag was still over my shoulder. I dug around for my phone, finding nothing but an old gum packet, some lipgloss, and some loose change.

"Fuck," I muttered under my breath, running my hands through my hair. I had my phone in the bar. Did I leave it in Andrew's car? Fuck, did I leave it at the bar? I began to panic, frantically walking down the street. As if I could walk all the way back! It was at least 15 kilometres from my place. I didn't care though, continuing to pace in the cold in clothing more suited to warmer weather. I kept replaying what I saw over and over in my head. I'd usually call my mum, but...

The way his hands were digging into her skin, the way she kept repeating how good he was making her feel. I felt sick to my stomach, and the alcohol wasn't helping. I'm not sure they even saw me, but once he finished (judging by the sounds he was making, wouldn't be too long) he'd see the doors open and connect the dots.

I turned my head as I heard someone whistle from across the street, inexplicably grateful to see Andy's car. "What're you doin'?"

"Do you have my phone?" My voice sounded foreign to me, robotic and desperate at the same time. I crossed the street, heading straight for the passenger side.

"Your lifeline is right here, hence why I am," he laughed, holding my phone out to me. I just stood at the door expressionless, and he probably thought my drinks had been spiked or I'd gone mad. "You... alright?"

"Joe is cheating on me," robotically sounding again. Though saying the words out loud made it suddenly real. Joe is cheating on me.

"What?" His eyebrows shot up, dipping his head to see my face better. "What? When?"

"Like, literally right now," I laughed. I began to laugh hysterically, having to rest my hands on the top of his car to steady myself. I laughed so hard, tears began to stream down my face and my stomach hurt.

The next thing I knew, that familiar warm hand was on my back, followed by a soft, "c'mere". I turned to face Andrew, immediately bursting into tears. Real tears this time. He pulled me in close to his chest, one arm easily wrapped around my shoulders, the other cradling the back of my head. I sobbed into his shirt, likely accidentally digging my nails into his back as I clung to him. If I did, he didn't comment on it. He held me tight, rubbing soft circles into my spine with his palm. I don't know how long we stood there for, but when I pulled away, his shirt was soaked and covered in mascara.

"I'm so sorry," I gave a half hearted laugh, gesturing to the stained cotton. "I will wash it for you, I'm good at getting stains out."

"Don't be ridiculous," he smiled that poor you smile he always did, but this time it felt like a comfort as he shook his head. "You can come back to mine and shower. Then we can figure this out."

"No, no, I don't want to put you out." I protested, wiping under my eyes, undoubtedly smudging the black into my hairline. I sniffled, wiping my snotty nose onto the sleeve of my cardigan. If Joe was right about Andy being infatuated with me, I definitely just destroyed that in one simple, snotty gesture.

"I insist," he smiled, leaning against the side of the car. I was exhausted, and a nice shower in a house that didn't reek of infidelity sounded too good to reject. I nodded and climbed into the passenger seat for the second time tonight, switching on my phone to see no new messages. Maybe he didn't see me after all.

I slipped into an oversized hoodie of Andrew’s after my shower, steam on the mirror and condensation on every surface from the amount of time I was in there. I felt guilty using his water, but time slipped away from me by the time I realised. He had real shampoo and conditioner, not that pathetic 3 in 1 bullshit Joe used. I stole a hair tie and hid my messy curls in a bun. I honestly looked like a mess, but it was definitely an improvement from before. My eyes were bloodshot and puffy. Most of the alcohol had fleeted my system, so now I was just exhausted and forced to bask in the reality of the situation.

I walked into his living room where he was sat, one arm slung over the back of the couch while the other flicked through Netflix. It was strange to see him in his space, so comfortable and… domestic. No, we’re not doing this. Yet.

I looked down and saw a black border collie mix strewn across his lap. “Oh my goodness!” I swooned as I headed straight for the dog. Andy mustn’t have heard me, jumping slightly and cursing under his breath. “How rude of me. Who’s this little angel?”

“The breaking of my heart,” he began, hand over his chest as he stared lovingly down at his dog. “Elwood.”

“Elwood? Really?” I quirked an eyebrow, looking up to Elwood’s owner.

“It’s a beautiful name for a beautiful boy, I don’t understand the issue?”

I rolled my eyes, going back to snuggling the dog, kissing his face all over. “He is beautiful. Yes you are!” Elwood wagged his tail excitedly, slobbering happily all over my hands.

Andrew chuckled down at us, averting his eyes back to the TV, a soft smile lingering on his lips.

“Thanks for letting me use your shower, Andy,” I smiled, sitting beside him on the lounge, feeling like the human embodiment of the calm after a storm.

“Oh, that’s no problem at all," he grinned earnestly, playing the pilot of Breaking Bad softly in the background. He lulled his head to the side, eyes glistening in the soft golden lighting of the lamp in the corner of the room. "Want a tea?"

"Please," I nodded, Elwood now snuggled into my lap. The moment he left the room, I was left with the crushing reality of what'd just happened. The horrible sound that plagued my phonic memory, as if it were played through headphones at a deafening volume. I tried to focus on the TV, Breaking Bad had always been my favourite. It was no use, the gut wrenching ache within me only multiplied by the minute, tears welling in my eyes, daring to fall.

"I wasn't sure how you take it so I bought everything with me," he placed two tea cups onto his coffee table, along with a carton of milk and a canister of sugar.

"So adorable, you remind me of my gran," I teased, desperately trying to blink away any trace of sadness before he had a chance to see. I didn't need to burden him with any more tears.

"You know, I've been called far worse," he shrugged, taking his tea black, sitting beside me on the couch. "So I'll take it."

I hummed in response, mixing in my milk and sugar.

"So... maybe a redundant question, but, how're you feeling?"

"Well," I chuckled bitterly, sipping from my tea. "Probably feeling as you'd expect. Actually, that's a lie. I don't know how I feel honestly."

His eyes studied my features, and I deliberately avoided his gaze. His dog snored away in my lap, the TV just loud enough that any amount of silence couldn't be awkward.

"Has... anything like this happened to you?" I asked, despite the voice in my head telling me not to.

"Ehm, yeah. Not too long ago, actually," he sighed, running a hand through his hair, his chocolate curls flicking up at the ends, framing his face beautifully in the light. "We were together for three years. She was sleeping around with a friend of mine. She broke it off with me when she decided she'd rather be with him."

"Her loss," I mirrored that same pitiful look he always gave me, the slight drop in his expression making me feel guilty for even asking. "You make a mean cup of tea."

"If only she could appreciate the art of English Breakfast," he sighed, a sad smile lingering on his lips despite the sarcasm in his tone.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Andy," I sighed, tempted to reach out for him but deciding against it in fear of breaching some unspoken boundary. "I'll get out of your hair soon."

"You can stay- only if you'd like," he offered awkwardly, eyes flickering to mine as he fiddled with the handle of his cup. "There's a spare bedroom."

"No, no. You've been so kind tonight, I don't want to push it," I shook my head, misjudging the height of the coffee table, my cup hitting it with a sharp clank. Elwood startled, throwing his head back to look at me. "Sorry, buddy."

"You're not pushing anything," he laughed, shaking his head now. "It's late. The decision's all yours. But I must say, that bed might be nicer than my own."

"Quite persuasive, aren't you?" I grinned, throwing my head back against the couch, weighing up my options. Well, I can't go home. "Okay. I'll stay... if you're sure that's okay?"

"Well, because you're twisting my arm..." He joked, that bright, happy smile making its glorious return. "I'll get you a spare toothbrush and a bottle of water. You've had a big night."

"Yeah," I breathed, rubbing at my burning, no doubt bloodshot, eyes. "I am exhausted."

"Come, I'll show you to your room," he got up from the couch, extending his hand to me. I took it in mine, warm and calloused; so large, his fingers reached my wrist as he helped me from the couch. I followed behind him, the soft padding of our feet up the stairs slowly becoming the only sound audible. Elwood trailing close behind, of course.

He showed me to the guest room, nothing special, but somehow a massive comfort. A navy blue, fluffy duvet with a bedside table, a simple lamp and a copy of Inferno by Dante Alighieri atop it.

"Oh, I'll grab that toothbrush," he waved his hand as if he were finally able to dismiss the thought. I chuckled at the way he hurried out of the room, the exhaustion rippling through my body as I sat on the edge of the bed. He was right. This might be the comfiest bed I've ever had the pleasure of sitting on. I zoned out, staring at the carpet as I finally sobered up. These past few weeks had been fucked, and I knew they'd only get worse. My phone started buzzing rapidly as Andy came back into the room, a bottle of water, a toothbrush still in the packaging, and a sheet of panadol in his hands. He silently placed them onto the bedside table, both of us just watching my phone ring. It was Joe.

Against my better judgement, I picked up on the last ring, raising the phone to my ear.

"Where are you?" His voice was hoarse, unsuspecting. Idiot.

"Doesn't matter," I sighed, nauseated at the sound of his voice.

"Well, it does. I've been worried sick about you, you're meant to be home now. How would I know you hadn't been kidnapped or gone home with some creep?"

"That is ironic," I laughed, though there was no humour in my tone.

"The fuck are you on about? Get home right now." He was getting angrier by the second. Andrew could hear every word, his brows knitted together in disgust as he listened on.

"I did come home. You were a bit busy," I swallowed harshly, my voice failing me, beginning to shake.

There was silence on his end for a good thirty seconds, all air in Andrew's small guest bedroom thinning at once. "...Babe. We will get through this."

"I don't think so."

"Don't say shit like that. I love you, Y/N. We'll get through this stronger than ever. Just come home, baby. I'll make it up to you," he was speaking fast, panicked almost.

"I need some space," I replied weakly, eyes filling with tears again.

"No. I love you. Come home. Please, babe, pl-"

I hung up on him before he got the chance to manipulate me straight back into his arms, Andy watching me with a frown. Suddenly, it was all too real, and I was breaking down in front of him for the second time tonight.

He didn't say anything. I felt the bed dip beside me, his warm arm wrapping around my shoulder, pulling me in close. We stayed like that for a while - my head leaned against his shoulder as I cried, his head atop mine - until I felt like there was no water left in my body. I heaved a massive sigh, sitting up straight again.

"Oh, Andy, I'm so s-"

"You've nothing to be sorry for," he hushed me, sincerity written all over his face, kind emerald eyes revealing that he wasn't doing anything for secondary gain; he was just a beautiful soul. "Get some rest."

"Okay," I agreed, pulling back the covers with his help. I wanted him to stay, I didn't want to be alone. I wished he could've just laid with me, no meaning attached, but just to have the warmth of another to occupy the cold, empty bed. Instead I thanked him again, pulling the covers up to my chin.

"You know where my room is. I'll be there if you need anything," he smiled earnestly, flicking off the light before walking out.

Goodnight, Andy, I almost said, but sleep washed over me quicker than I could form the words.

I woke early, bathed in velvety caramel coloured sunlight, slowly beginning to register where I was. I made my way down to corridor to Andy's room, his bedroom door barely ajar. I put my ear to the door, not wanting to wake him if he were still sleeping. I heard soft pants escaping his lips, letting my curiosity get the best of me.

I gently pushed the door open, revealing the glow of his milky skin in the same light. His beautiful halo of curls sticking to his slightly sweaty forehead, his face contorted in pleasure and concentration as he worked himself beneath the covers. I couldn't suppress the noise of surprise that escaped my lips as he whimpered my name.

"Fuck-" He gasped, pulling his hand from under the cover. "I'm sorry, I-"

"Keep going," I encouraged, slowly making my way to him. Confusion plastered all over his face, he obliged, slipping his hand back under the cover. I sat before him, our eyes locked on one another as he picked up the pace. "Gooood, that's it."

His brows furrowed as he continued to worked himself, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat with each swallow. I slipped into bed beside him, my hand replacing his. His breathing pattern grew irregular, every vowel of my name dripping off his tongue, igniting a fire deep in my core. I began placing wet kisses along jawline, making my way down to his neck, then his chest, then-

And then I actually woke up, heart beating at a million miles an hour. What. The. Fuck. Shame immediately coursed through my veins, burying my face into my pillow as I replayed the dream over and over until it was committed to memory. Am I an awful person?

I could vaguely hear Andrew singing along to Let's Fall In Love by Ella Fitzgerald in the kitchen, cautiously making my way down the stairs. I was disgusted in myself for even thinking of him in that way, let alone loving every shame filled second of it.

"Mornin'," I made myself known, sliding onto one of the stools at his breakfast bar.

"Good morning," he chirped, sliding a cup of coffee toward me. He had his glasses on this morning, his hair pulled back into a bun. "How're you feelin'?"

"Good," I lied through my teeth, concealing it with an enthusiastic nod. "Better, yeah." I just gave you a handjob in my dream and now I want you to pin me to the couch and make love to me all day. Oh, and I'm supposed to be grieving a near 6 year relationship, but now I'm just really fucking confused. "How are you?"

"Hungry. And I hope you are too," he grinned, revealing a big stack of pancakes he'd just cooked for us, as well as a bowl of chopped strawberries.

"I am, that looks lovely," another lie. I had no appetite. But I also couldn't say no to a man so sickly sweet. He sat beside me, soft jazz serenading us from his record player.

"What've you got on today?" He queried, plopping a pancake onto each of our plates.

"Might visit my ma, update her on... everything, I guess. Then I've gotta get my car. Maybe some clothes. Fuck, I don't even know what to do," I laughed awkwardly, taking a sip of my coffee. "You performing tonight?"

"Hoping to," he nodded, taking a bite of a strawberry. "You know you're more than welcome to spend the night here again."

"I couldn't possibly burden you for another night," I deflected, mirroring his actions and popping a strawberry into my mouth.

"You actually don't have to fight me each time, you cay just say no," he chuckled, shaking his head at me.

"I love spending time with you," I confessed, resting my hand on his arm, then retracting it just as fast. "I just don't want you to think I'm using you."

"Nonsense," he waved me off, scoffing. "It's nice to have some company. Plus, Elwood has taken a strong liking to you."

"The feeling is mutual," I laughed, breaking off a piece of my pancake for the dog happily wagging his tail by my feet. "I'm sure you have lady friends come and visit."

"Only ones who ruin their tea with milk and barely touch their pancakes," he remarked with a wide grin. I felt my cheeks turn hot at his stupid comment, finally digging in to my breakfast.

Maybe things weren't going to be so bad after all.

i don't love this... but this desperately needed an update. feel free to send requests of some stuff you'd like in the next chapter xx

#hozier #andrew hozier byrne #hozier x reader #hozier smut #andrew hozier

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inbabylontheywept · 11 months

Text

"The reaper had a scythe. I have a combine harvester."

Arlach tapped his fingers nervously. He’d have gladly given up his life for the liberation of his people. A combine harvester (even a deluxe AI driven model) was a pittance compared to that. Still, he didn’t really understand what he was hearing.

“I uh… heard you’re hooking up my strawberry picker to an air defense cannon?”

The human technician assembling the gun held up a hand, finishing up some last tweaking of the wire harness. He touched two wires together carefully and swore when a shower of sparks shot out of the contact.

Set back, but not defeated, the man paused his task to answer the farmer’s question.

“See, you’re looking at this wrong. It’s an AI harvester, and it works great for strawberries, but machines don’t really see ‘strawberries’. They rate strawberry-ness. There’s a lot of ways to manage that, but it looks for a generally pointed shape, some seeds, and that nice red color. So your run of the mill strawberry generally receives an almost perfect strawberry-ness score, but something like this-”

His hands dug through all the pockets of his work suit before they finally found their target. He fished out what had been a standard ferroslug before it was painted bright red and smattered with a handful of black dots. He took a moment to admire it himself before tossing it to the farmer and continuing.

“Well, it’s not a strawberry, but it scores as one. Well enough that the machine gets positive feedback from its alignment unit every time it puts one of these babies where it's supposed to go.”

Arlach stared at him blankly.

“So what, you’re convincing it to fill a cargo container up with painted bullets?”

The technician grinned.

“There's no a limit to how fast it's allowed to fill that container up. At no point did the alignment protocol even consider that it'd be capable of throwing a 'strawberry' at mach nine. And the cargohold is important, but the rocket its attached to is more so. You know what looks a lot like a surface to orbit rocket?"

Arlach’s brain clicked.

“The hypersonic missiles they've been throwing at us.”

The grin widened. Arlach himself felt slightly awed to have found the connection.

“Will it work?”

The human nodded.

“It’s damn near the only thing that can. To shoot down something going that fast, that low, you either need a dummy missile that can brute force outrun it, or enough computing power to hack a station. The alliance is too chickenshit to send over their actual military AI's, but these myopic-type digibrains are supposed to be safe for civilian use because the idea of convincing your tractor that a bullet is a strawberry and a WMD is a cargo loader was a little too creative for the morons over at John Deere Galactic. And if that digibrain just so happens to function near the exoflop level, they're going to have a hard time sneaking anything larger than a bee through this airspace.”

The alien’s hands went over its crest as its mind reeled.

“They're not the only ones who would never think of this. It's brilliant. I never would've considered it.”

The tech shrugged good naturedly and went back to retrieve the two ends of wire that he’d dropped earlier.

“Eh, it's not coming from nowhere. There’s something of a human tradition about using farm equipment for war. I'm just lucky to be part of the next evolution in this. The reaper himself only used a scythe. Now I get to use a combine harvester.”

#hfy #humanity fuck yeah #humans are space oddities #science fiction #scifi #humans are space orcs #big fucking gun #bfg #AI theory #vaguely war in Ukraine inspired #Never pass on a chance to dunk on John Deere #humans are weird #everything can be a gun

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moondirti · 9 months

Note

DEE IK THIS IS SO OFF THE BAT BUT IMAGINE RIDING MIGUEL’S ABS??!;!;?:?:? WHATS UR CRUMB ON THAT BCS IM LITERALLY ASCENDING INTO HEAVEN JUST BY THE THOUGHT OF IT😩☝🏼

SUMMARY: after the events of DOUBLE RAPTURE, we follow Mig back home and explore his less than ideal relationship with his world's version of you.

explicit (18+) | 1.5k words

part one / can be read as a standalone! WARNINGS: smut, ab-riding, handjobs, codependant relationships, submissive (?) miguel, ANGST, fear of commitment (on the reader's part), implied parental issues, drinking, anxious/avoidant attachment styles NOTES: did this take me forever to respond to? yes. have i been thinking about it every day since i received it? also yes. please have a little drabble as a sweet treat for your genius mind, anon. sorry i took it too far

This is how it is with Miguel.

Buttressed on a leather couch that isn't so much leather anymore, but cotton dotted with the flakes of black suede that've managed to hold on through the years since you bought it. It's old, unstable – somewhat an apt metaphor for your relationship to the man – and stands situated across a television with no cable. He shows up at your door on any unannounced night, where for once you wish he'd catch you with plans pre-made, and intrudes on your vain attempt to connect the old screen to your neighbour's internet.

And it's ironic that you should end up watching dated cartoons anyway, stuck inside your apartment that is a fraction the size of his, because he always opens on some variation of the same line – the very thing that woo'd you all those years ago, when you were younger and prone to any man's charm:

What's a pretty thing like you do in a place like this?

It's dark outside – night-worn inhibition being one of the main constituents to poor decision making – and his skin gleams golden in the dim lamp light. You can't refuse him for all your rationale on why, so he comes in and you pour a strong drink whose hangover tomorrow will take precedence over your guilt. He drinks too, perhaps to make your eventual rejection easier, and the two of you make-out on that tumbledown couch until your lips turn blue.

Sometimes, he comes up for air – only when he gathers enough courage to break away from you – to whisper filthy nothings and little promises on the shell of your ear. Neither are empty, you know. Miguel’s good at making good of every word when it comes to you. The push and pull gets to him, fuels his gears until he’s pouring proper work into making you happy. From what you can physically face – gonna have you creaming on my cock, cariño – to prospects that remain ever-frightening – wanna stay like this forever, you on my lap, sharing our home.

You’ve never had a reference to ‘our’. Commitment remains a fickle thing for you, instilled by parents who didn’t have the mind to give it. He knows as much, but you don’t think he understands just what keeps you around regardless. What keeps you at the door, waiting for an acknowledged three-knuckle knock. None of the in betweens, flowers, nor the heights you reach spread-eagled underneath him. It’s always just been exactly that – his return, done every time without fail.

(And there’s the ever-negging fear that one day he’ll grow sick of the cycle.

On one hand, you hope he does. It hurts him more than it does you, and you hate to watch him leave. Yet on the other, more volatile hand – you pray he fucks you so well you forget your reserve, that he breeds and carries you away from this hole you’ve dug yourself in.)

For now, though–

For now, you lift the shirt off his frame. He’s let his chest-hair grow since you met him last, and if you strain to remember, he’s gotten bulkier. Abs more pronounced, with pecs that bounce when you graze your nails down his side. It’s refined, a look that makes him appear older. You swoop down to lick his neck, moaning hotly once you reach his mouth.

“You been working out, Mig?”

“For you, hermosa. Figured you’d like me better like this.” He groans, kneading the flesh of your thighs. His fingers dip into the waistband of your underwear, snapping it on your skin in an explicit plea to take it off.

“And who told you that?” You say, acquiescing, working the lacey strip off your hips. Your cunt sucks at it, belligerent in letting go now that it’s soaked the fabric through.

“A couple I met. They remind me of us.” His head follows yours when you draw away from an attempted kiss. It’s unintentional, done to stand off and strip completely, yet his reaction to it sends little tremors of pleasure to your core. “Of what we could be.”

“Shhhh.” Once you’re completely bare, tits freed from your tank top, you straddle him again, a little higher this time. His waist is cinched enough to allow you to do so with little fuss, tendons at the top of your thighs aching only slightly. “Make me feel good, please.”

“Of course.”

His thumb presses down on your swollen clit, holding it in place while you arch your back and trap it underneath you – sandwiching it between your mound and his midriff. The pressure is electric, charged to fervency, buzzing as it lights every nerve ending from your waist below. And three thrusts forth and back see to it that he’s slick, lubed with the juices that gradually seep from your needy slit.

The sight, the sensations, the thought that he’s putting effort outside of this room for you – they all make you exceedingly weak. Your legs wobble, practically jello, spine made out of sand and unable to support you fully. Miguel stays firm, one large paw squeezing your breast and the other at your pelvis. You’d ask him to help, to move you against him until you see stars, but a stone lodges in your throat and prevents the words from finding clarity.

It’s guilt, of that you’re familiar, but for a number of things; the fact that he would help you seek pleasure in spite of his own – his erection left abandoned under the confines of his pants. The idea of desecrating his hard work, those muscles made pronounced, with your filth without fully appreciating it first. For everything, everything, and it’s so crushing that you stop moving altogether.

“No, no. C’mon, pretty. Keep going.” He begs, pelvis thrusting up with need. You shove your arm behind you, seeking out the zipper keeping him from you, palming his hard length with clumsy assurance “Don’t worry about me. Wanna feel you cum on my abs. Gonna lick you clean after. We have forever if you’d let me. There’s no rush.”

No rush. It’s far from the typical Miguel sentiment, and you blink in perplexed contemplation. But he just grins, brows knitting up with reverence.

“Did these people also teach you to take your time?” You struggle to say patience, because he’s always been patient with you.

“Something along the lines.” He mutters, suddenly sheepish. His fangs always intrude when his tone is quiet, like they’re intentionally making him difficult to understand. He knows he’s special to you when you try to decipher it nonetheless.

“Don’t be making me jealous, now.” You taunt, dipping to bite his lip. It’s fun to pull up, up, until he whines and shoves you harder onto him. Achingly empty and close to cumming on his abdomen alone. Slowly, you start to gyrate again, riding unrelenting sinew. And in the meanwhile, you manage to get his zipper undone, sneaking your hand beneath his briefs.

“I’ll explain lat… later, p-promise.”

“I don’t doubt it. F-Fuck,” Somehow, the pleasure is simultaneously heavenly and not enough, this little game you decided to engage in tiptoeing the line. He’s good even when he isn’t trying, just laying there, pinching pebbled nipples with enough callousness that it aches in the best way. On your first date – which wasn’t really a date, but a happenstance meeting at your father’s shady bar – he’d been hesitant to hurt you like you wanted. The best he could do was pepper your neck with sore hickeys, pocketed in the back alley, touch kinder than any you’d experienced before. “Oh my god.”

“Y-You’re so soft. My gorgeous girl. So soft and… and pretty when you do that.”

“Mig.” You wail, useless in properly pumping his pulsing cock. It’s all you can do to palm the head, smearing prespend all over his velvet tip. And it’s hard, like smelted iron, throbbing hot and heavy. It’s been so long since you’ve had it in you that you’re sure it’ll take some effort to fit. The abstraction fills you with desperation so poignant that you start moving faster, rougher, seeking an end where you’re stuffed full yet doing nothing to actually achieve it.

That is, until��

“What do you need?” He asks.

Your hole clenches. Your guts knot together. Your orgasm gathers, full and sloshing wet, trapped behind the wall he’s been breaking down since his arrival.

“You!” You finally admit. “You.” Softer.

And when you cum, soaking his middle with shameless indulgence, all he does is flip you over to settle beneath him. The couch rocks with the sudden upheaval, threatening collapse, so he keeps a firm hold of your shoulders, kneeling between your quivering thighs. His breadth bobs from over his pants – you don’t recall taking it out – purple with restrained pain and just waiting for your cue to allow him entry.

“I’ve got you, cariño.” Miguel hums, positioning himself onto the divet of your cunt when you give a frail nod. “I’ve got you.”

And you know, of course you do. He’s never backed away from a promise before. Because that is how it is with Miguel.

566 notes · View notes

k4marina · 6 months

Text

— Prologue || Heart of the Dragon

synopsis: a trip to Dragonstone goes a little wrong, or does it?

game of thrones x modern!reader

4.5k+ word count

sereis masterlist || next part

"Why are we doing this during the hottest day of the year, again?" Daeron mutters, using the brochure that was given to us at the beginning of the tour as a fan.

If I could, I would've replied, but the heat was also getting to me, draining away my energy. And, on top of the scorching heat, I'd just finished the last of my water. I pursed my lips together, the line wasn’t that long and I’m sure I can buy another overpriced water bottle after we visited the caves.

The group tour guide turned back to us, just as exhausted, and somewhat bashful. He said something, but I couldn't be bothered with it as I was too focused to not tip over from the heat. It was probably something like “only a few more minutes and we’ll be outta the heat, folks,” with an awkward smile or something.

The line to the caves under the castles was stupidly long, but it's no surprise. So much history was in those caves and so many mysteries had come full circle there. And, the deeper they dug, the more they uncovered the history of the Targaryens that lived there from when Aenar Targaryen moved his entire family to Dragonstone after his daughter, Daenys “the Dreamer” dreamed of the Doom of Valyria.

"Who's idea was it to come here for our research trip?" I didn't bother looking over at him, knowing that I'd be blinded by the sun that shone directly behind his big head.

“Shut up. Your voice is giving me a headache.” I quipped. “Besides, almost everything on this island is connected to the Targaryens. It might come useful when we have to write our research paper.”

The line moved up until our group was at the front of the line. A small group of students, along with Daeron and I, were on Dragonstone for our research projects. Some of the other students had decided to stay in Kings Landing or go to other parts of Westeros for their research.

Everyone was to spend a week in their respective areas and gather all the information they needed before heading back to Kings Landing to write and then later present their topics. Some chose to do it themselves whilst others, like us, decided to go with someone else.

Today was the first day of our stay on Dragonstone. Daeron and I had decided to check out the caves and the island's beaches before we would explore the labyrinth-like castle.

I rubbed the side of my head, feeling a headache approaching. My hand reached up to my necklace that rested on my chest. The chain was long enough for it to hang in the dip of my breast.

Not only did I come here for my project, but also for me. The necklace around my neck has been in my family for generations, but no one knows from where. It’s made entirely of Valyrian Steel, which was rare back in the day, and even rarer now.

As a child, I didn’t think much of it. It wasn’t until I grew older and more curious that I started asking questions. First to my family, but all I got was even more confusing answers that led me nowhere. Then I turned towards the internet, scouring for hours until I had found it.

On the official Dragonstone website, I found pictures of the caves under the castle and possibly under the entire island. On one of the walls was a crude hand drawing of my necklace. Two dragons around a sword with a ruby in the middle –though, the ruby was replaced with a red dot. Regardless, the cave painting matched.

The line moved up and Daeron gently pushed me up while I was lost in my thoughts. “You good?” He asks. I nod, “Yeah. The heat’s just a lot.” He gives an understanding look. Once the tour guide is given the green light, he begins to lead up to the entrance of the cave.

"Ready?" Daeron asks. I nodded and we begin walking. Once we entered the cave, my jaw was on the floor. I had seen pictures of the caves, but seeing it in real life was far more beautiful.

The deeper we got we could see the cave paintings done by the Children of the Forest which Daenerys and Jon had found. As the guide droned on about the cave paintings, I could feel my headache intensify. Why was it so hot in here?

The deeper and deeper we went into the caves, the worse it got. My chest started to feel heavy. I struggled to put one foot in front of the other. The back of my throat burned and I felt like throwing up, but I pushed forward.

My eyes raked the the cave walls, Where was it? Finally, I was able to see it. The markings were next to a few unknown ones. A sign with some information was hung up next to it. Despite my head pounding I was still able to read the bold words.

Unknown markings made by who researchers believe are the Targaryens. The paint used seemed to be as old as when Aenar Targaryen moved his family to Dragonstone.

By the time I finished reading, I could feel my head pounding so loudly in my ear. It felt like an ice pick was being hammered into the side of my head. I could hear muffled voices call out, but to who I didn’t know. The room started to spin and a ringing sound filled my ears.

A hand, most likely Derons, reached out and turned me around. I could see his mouth moving, but no words coming out. My chest felt like it was overheating while my head continued to throb. Everything turned blurry and then it went black.

When I woke up, I was still in the cave. The cold stone floor had helped with bringing my body temperature down. And, my head didn't hurt anymore. After getting up, I looked around the cave. It was darker, and quiet.

Where was everyone?

Carefully, I made my way out of the cave. It was harder to walk out of the cave and the spotlights that were on the walls weren’t on. Once I was outside I was met with the night sky.

All the tents and other buildings around the beach were gone, as if they'd never been there.

Okay, this is weird.

"Hello?" My voice came out horse like I hadn’t spoken in a long time. "Hello? Is anyone there? Daeron?"

My feet moved on their own and I tried to find someone, anyone. But there was no one. How could a populated area with tents and buildings disappear within hours?

Retracing my steps, I found the stairs that would lead me back to the Help Center that were posted around for lost tourists, but like the beach, there was nothing. Matter a fact, even the lamppost that were posted into the ground, the banners, the signs –everything was gone.

"What the actual fuck?" Panic creeped up and I could feel my heart thumping in my ears. "Gods, If this is some kinda sick fucking joke..."

At this point, I was running towards the castle. For what? I didn't know, but surely there had to be something there. The grand doors seemed to be closed so I tried to find another way in. I guess you could say I found something like a side door that took a little force to open.

The inside of the castle was grand. High walls, banners held high, candles and lamps lit all around. Truly, it was amazing. As I was gawking at the architecture I failed to notice unknown voices walking towards me.

“Halt!” Two unknown men dressed in what looked like armor cornered me, pointing their spears at me. “State your name! Who are you?”

I stuttered out my name, raising my hands up so they could see I wasn’t a threat. “I’m not going to do anything, I swear.”

The two men shared a look and a few hushed words before one of them walked over to me, grabbing my arm roughly and pulling me along.

“Ow!” I tried to pull back, but his grip was too strong. “What the fuck dude. I said I wasn’t a threat.”

“Khaleesi will decide if you are or are not a threat.” The man who wasn’t holding onto me said.

Khaleesi? What Khaleesi?

“Oh please don’t tell me I just walked into those real-life roleplaying things.” I groaned, earning side eyes from both of the men.

They led me down a series of hall ways, each one intricate as the other until we stood outside of a set of polished stone double doors. Another pair of men dressed just like the cosplayers that brought me here stood in front of the doors. Without having to say any words they opened the grand doors.

Slowly, I could see the inside being revealed.

There, on the elevated platform stood the Throne of Dragonstone, where all the Targaryen heirs of the Iron Throne sat as they took the title “Prince of Dragonstone.” A light push brought me back as I was dragged closer to the throne.

“Khaleesi,” the guard called out. Before I could ask who they were speaking to, an unknown voice answered.

“What is it?”

Light footsteps were heard from behind a wall and a woman emerged from behind it. Except it wasn’t just any woman. Even a child would know who she was. Everyone around the world knows her.

She was Daenerys Targaryen.

Mother of Dragons.

The Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea.

The Unburnt.

The Breaker of Chains.

I could feel time slow down as I watched her walk over to the throne and sit down. My blood turned cold as she sat in front of me.

No.

She’s dead.

This can’t be happening.

It’s not possible.

It’s not. I have better chances of reviving dragons than traveling back in time-

“What is this?” Daenerys eyed me, confused at my appearance and why I was even here before looking at the two men.

“We found this unknown woman wandering around the castle, Your Grace.”

She eyed me, as if wanting me to plead my case, but the words died in my throat. Why wouldn’t they when Daenerys fucking Targaryen was right in front of me. A million thoughts ran through my head, but I couldn’t rack my brain to find one answer.

Daenerys squinted before speaking again, this time directly towards me. “Who are you?” The High Valyrian rolled easily off of her tongue like a true Targaryen. Those three words held so much power and conviction, like a true Queen.

“Y/n Vellarys!…” I rushed to reply in Valyrian.

“You speak good Valyrian.” She praises, but it's quickly pushed away. “But that doesn’t explain what you are doing here.”

What should I do? I bit my bottom lip as nervousness filled my body.

Knowing that if I lie, I’ll be fileted, I took a deep breath before responding. “I don't know. I.. I,” I paused, not knowing if I should continue. If this was real then I only wanted her to know, “Can we be alone.. please?”

The two men besides me visibly tense up, but don’t speak up. Daenerys looks down at us, seemingly in thought before she nodded. The two men bow before turning around to leave. The double doors closed with a loud thud.

“We’re alone now, you may continue.”

I nervously swallowed. Here we go. “This might sound weird, but.. I don’t know how I got here. I.. I woke up in the caves under the castle… alone.”

Daenerys’ face stayed neutral as I relayed the information. She seemed to take some time to process what I had just said. “Do you think I’m a fool?”

I could feel my heart fall all the way down. Fuck.

“You woke up in the caves alone?” She repeats. “Not even a child would come up with such a stupid story like this.”

“N-n-no, Daener- I mean, Your Grace. I swear to the Gods that I’m telling the truth. I have no reason to lie to you. Especially when you could get rid of me with your dragons in a second.”

She seemed to mull over my words, as if weighing her options. “Alright, let's say you’re telling the truth. Your story still doesn’t make sense. How do you just “wake up” in a cave?”

Now or never, I guess.

“Actually,” I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. “I’m not from here. I come from-” The future. Fucking hell, how cliché. “-I come from a different… time.”

Daenerys squinted and I could see the clogs in her brain moving. “You mean you’re from the future?”

Jeez. Ripped the bandage right off.

“Well –uh, yes,” I say. “I was touring the caves and then I –I fell unconscious or something, I still don’t know, I just know that when I woke up I ended up here.”

I let out a frustrated sigh. What if this was just a dream and that all of this is just my imagination running wild.

“That necklace.”

Huh? What is she talking about?

I looked up, confused. “What?”

She pointed towards my chest. I looked down and I could see my necklace was out. “What about it?” I asked.

“Where did you get it?”

“It’s mine.” I replied. “It’s been in my family for generations. Why?”

Now it was Daenerys’ turn to look a little nervous.

“I’ve seen it in my dream.”

“Your dream? Like, one of those Dragon Dreams?” I ask. She gives a nod, “While we were sailing to Dragonstone I had a dream of a woman with silver hair and that necklace. Because I couldn’t see her face, I thought it was me. I’ve turned the treasury over looking for them; however, it seems that I dreamt of you.”

Ho-ly Fuck. Daenerys’ dreamt about me. What the hell. I’m about to throw up.

“What?” Now it was my time to be skeptical of what was being said. “You dreamt about me and my necklace?”

She nodded. “It seems odd, but a Dragon Dream has never been wrong.”

“Ture, but that still leaves a lot of blanks.” My hand subconsciously went up to hold my necklace while I tried to think back.

The deeper I walked into the cave the more my head started to hurt, but that was most likely because of dehydration… probably. But then there was a burning feeling on my chest when I looked at the symbol on the wall that matched my necklace and the burning feeling got even more intense and it felt like it was about to burn my skin-

“Fuck.” I groaned, letting go of the necklace. The outburst made Daenerys frown, “Are you alright?”

I looked down at my hands and at my necklace before looking into her eyes. “I think my necklace tried to burn me, like last time.”

“Last time?” She frowned. “How can a necklace burn someone?”

“I don’t know. It happened before I passed out in the cave.” I let out a sigh. “Gods, what is going on.”

“It seems that this was the God's doing,” Daenerys says, as if it was a fact. “They’ve brought you here.”

“The Gods?” I repeat. Sure, in some sense they did bring me here. “But why?”

“That may be something for you to find out.” Daenerys stood from the throne, walking down the steps until she was right in front of me. “I was lost once, but then the Gods gifted me my children to show me my true purpose.”

“The Iron Throne.” I thought back to my history classes where I learned that for the fight for the Iron Throne, Daenerys lost her life as she fell into what historians said was “Targaryen Madness,” but I’ve always felt that there’s more to it.

“It’s late, I’ll have the servants bring you to a spare room for you to rest in for the night.” As if on cue, the guards from before stepped up to us. “We can talk further tomorrow morning.”

Daenerys turned to leave from where she came from. The guards bowed as she left. Once she was gone they brought me to a spare room somewhere in the castle, this time without having to pull me around.

The hallways were nearly empty, meaning there weren’t a lot of people living here or servants working in the castle. The most I’d seen was guards posted around. Once we were in front of two thick double doors the guards stepped back waiting for me to open them.

It took a little force to open the door, but once I was inside, my jaw was on the floor. Despite everything being made of stone, the walls were covered in rich tapestry. There was a giant bed with lavish looking furs laid atop the bed and maroon bed sheets.

Behind me, a servant walked in with a few sets of clothes and laid them on the bed. “We’ve prepared you some clothes,” she said. “Would you like to change now or take a bath?”

As if on cue, I could feel how dirty I was since I was practically on the cave floors for Gods knows how long.

“A bath would be fine, thank you,” I replied. It honestly felt weird watching servants work. Not that it was bad, just the fact that in the modern day you don’t have them. Sure maybe someone who cleans your home or makes you food, but servants?

Once they had pulled out the massive tub and manually poured in the hot water they led me to the tub. One of their hands went up to my shirt's edge and the other to my pants.

“W-wait!” They all looked at me confused.

“Is everything alright, My Lady?” One of the servants asked.

No it’s not. You’re taking my clothes off. And sure, it’s your job to do practically everything for a highborn, but that ain’t me.

“Uh, there’s no need for… all of this. I can do it myself.”

“Are you sure?” Another girl asked. “It’s our duty to serve you.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure.” I replied awkwardly. “Just not really used to all of… this. Um, anyways I can take it from here. You guys can go…”

I internally cringed at my words. Gods, I sounded like an idiot, but could you blame me?

The girls reluctantly agreed, leaving me alone in the room. Once they were gone I let out a sigh and began to undress myself. The water was hot, but it was fine since I practically liked showering in lava every morning.

Settling into the tub I finally relaxed. This entire thing was just so… bizarre. At first, I thought it was some sort of dream, but that searing pain I felt wasn’t something I could just imagine.

My necklace burned me.

And it burned me when I first saw the markings on the cave walls. I looked down at my chest and hand, but saw nothing.

Okay, weird.

That aside, why was I even brought here? Why me? What do I have that made me so special that I had to be flung into this era of time?

“Think, y/n, think,” I muttered to myself. The dream. Daenerys’ dream about the necklace. But wait, no history books said anything about her having a dragon dream. Could this maybe be connected?

For the next hour, I mulled over my options while I soaked in the tub that had turned lukewarm. Having enough, I got up and grabbed the towels that the servants had thankfully set close for me.

The clothes that they had laid out for me were a bunch of nightgowns. Thankfully, they were my size. I decided to wear a simple white nightgown.

Laying under the mountain of covers and blankets, I finally let myself completely relax, falling asleep. Hopefully tomorrow’s discussions can help this situation get better or at least easier.

I woke up to the sun glaring down into my face. Groaning, I turned to my side, hoping to get some more sleep. But the damage was done.

I could hear light shuffling in the room and things being moved around. When I opened my eyes, I was nearly flash-banged. All the windows (that are floor to ceiling length) were opened and the curtains were drawn back.

A few servants from last night and a few new faces worked around the room. I sat up in bed, rubbing my eyes, catching the attention of one of the girls.

“Good morning, My Lady. Did you sleep well?”

“Morning,” my voice came out a little low and rough. “What’s going on?”

“We’re getting you ready for the day,” the girl replies, matter of factly. “You will be having your morning meal with the Queen. We’ve already drawn you a fresh new bath and arranged a new set of clothes.”

I looked at where the tub was last night, nothing that was gone, along with my clothes.

“Where are my clothes?” I asked.

“We’ve sent them to get washed,” the servant replied. “My Lady, if i may…”

I nodded for her to go on. “We’ve never seen such clothes like yours before. They remind us of what the men wear however, yours are a bit more.. different.”

“Oh, that. They’re just something that I made.” I lied. Thinking back to last night, I’m confused I didn’t get as many weird looks as I should have wearing my jeans and shirt. It's not really the typical Westerosi fashion for this time.

“The bath is ready.” Another girl says.

Reluctantly, I got out of bed, following them to another room adjacent to this one. The room was a massive bathroom that could function as a bathhouse.

There was a massive tub nestled into the floor. The windows were also huge but a little higher up, letting in some natural light. I could tell the water was hot just by how much it was steaming.

Carefully, the servants began to undress me. They led me into the water and began adding what I can only assume are oils and salts. Truthfully, it felt like I was at some fancy spa with how they washed my body and hair.

Once that was done, they helped me into a beautiful white dress with a dark teal and gold design. I felt like a model wearing such a beautiful dress. I let my hair down, not wanting it in any style (or knowing any styles of this period).

A servant walked me to the dining room where Daenerys was waiting for me. She wore a light blue dress with her hair braided and her three headed dragon pin.

“Good Morning,” she greeted.

“Morning uh, Your grace.” I replied. “Sorry, I’ve never called anyone “your grace” before.”

She brushed it off, motioning for me to take a seat next to her at the table where the food was already prepared.

“How did you sleep?” She asks, beginning to eat.

“Fine, surprisingly.” I reached down to grab a fork for my food. “How about you?”

Was I really making small talk with Daenerys Targaryen?

“Mine as well,” she smiled. “I was hoping we could talk a little before I had to go meet my small council.”

“Okay, what did you want to talk about?” I wanted to smack myself. Every time I spoke it was full of nerves and anxiety.

“Let’s start with you. Your name and where you’re from.” Daenerys says confidently. “Judging by your looks, you’re of Valyrian descent.” She says, eyeing my silver hair.

“Yes,” I nodded. “My family moved from Volantis to the Eyrie. My family is known to be of the Old Blood in Volantis.”

“The Old Blood?” Daenerys says, surprised.

The Old Blood are a group of people in Volantis that have proven to be the last remaining families of Valyria. They live in a perched area of the city that only they can walk. All the families in that area still continue their Valyrian traditions and practices, just minus the dragons.

I nodded, “My father is the youngest of four sons, so he thought ‘why not move to westeros and start something there?’ knowing that he wouldn’t have to really carry on the family name.”

“And your family name is Vellarys?” She recalled from last night.

“Yes. We’re known for our jewelry making in Volantis. That’s why my father moved to Westeros, to open a shop there without having to take over the business and stress like his older brother.

“As for myself, I have two older brothers. One is working to be a doctor,” Daenerys frowned at that, confused, “uh, it’s like a Maester. The other is helping my father run the shop.”

“And what about yourself?”

“I’m in school. I go to the University of Kings Landing.”

“The.. University of… Kings Landing?”

“Well, after the monarchy was sorta let go, they turned certain parts of the Red Keep and other castles into Universites -places to go for higher studies, like the.. Citadel for example.”

Daenerys nods, understanding some of it.

“I study the era of The Game of Thrones as well as Targaryen History.”

“The Game of Thrones?” She repeats. “What is that?”

“It’s, uh, what we call this time period. It ranged from the death of King Robert to,” the death of Daenerys Targaryen, “to now, and a little later. We look into how the events after Robert’s death played out and how people fought for the Iron Throne.”

“Like a game.” She says.

I nodded. “Yes, like a game. There’s this quote that Cersie Lannister said to Ned Stark that summed it up, “When you play the game of thrones, You win or you die,”.”

“I see,” Daenerys looks down at her plate in thought. “And what about me?”

Oh fuck.

“What about you?” I say, acting innocent.

“What happened to me?”

I purse my lips together. Should I say it? I mean, it’s a good segway to what I want to really say… if this part goes well.

“You…” I nervously swallowed. “You die… before you could even claim the throne.”

The fork in her hand hits the ceramic plate with a loud clunk.

“What?”

Nervously, I looked into her. “You were killed… after you burned Kings Landing to ashes.”

She frowned. “You're lying. I would never do such a thing. Me? Burning down Kings Landing?

And the Red Keep, but I’ll keep that to myself.

“I’m not lying, Daenerys. After you died, Drogon picked you up and flew you away. We still haven’t found your or his body.”

Daenerys' hands started to shake at the information I had just thrown at her. Carefully, I placed mine over hers.

“Daenerys,” I said softly. “Breath. You’re fine, nothing has happened so far.”

Slowly, I could feel her hands stop shaking and her breathing seemed to steady.

“What do you mean so far?”

I gave her hand an encouraging squeeze although, I can’t tell if it was for me or her.

“Meaning, I can help you.”

She looks at me, puzzled.

“Daenerys, I can help you take the Iron Throne.”

okayyyy so it's finally here after many rewrites. let me know if you guys liked the first person POV. its my first time writing it like this, typically i do second POV. more to come in later chapters. also, i will be changing a few things, nothing major. one personal head cannon that i have is that jon isn't really named aegon, but jaehaerys. makes a lil more sense in my brain. also, i'll maybe be using some info from the books. and if you guys have any suggestions with y/n's character and other stuff please feel free to let me know. don't worry there will be more story and character development in the coming chapters.

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mcdonaldsnumberone · 1 year

Text

LOVE ME HARDER!

you swear your favorite color has nothing to do with kaiser. but unluckily for you, the boy’s fallen madly in love with you and has somehow convinced himself that he can connect the dots to make you fall madly in love with him. when you meet his flirting with a tough front though, kaiser has a secret weapon up his sleeve (or under his uniform collar).

gender neutral reader

content warning(s): reader’s favorite color is blue, kaiser’s tattoo isn’t super visible with his uniform in this fic

You loved blue.

You still do. And for the foreseeable future, you weren’t going to ever stop loving the color. It was a color so dear and special to you, and as much as you loved all the other colors, there was something indescribable about the blue hue.

It was everywhere. The color of the sky. The ocean. The small Google Docs icon while you scribbled down notes on your computer. A stray car in the distance while you crossed the road. It was the color of loyalty and knowledge, the cool tones even embodying the mystifying feeling of melancholy. And, if you allowed yourself to get a little pretentious and philosophical, probably the color of the universe.

What a dignified color. You would never stop loving blue. Not ever. Certainly not now. And you would never extinguish your love of the color because of a man.

But boy, was someone making it difficult.

You always heard him before you saw him: the rumble of footsteps, Ness gushing incoherent praise, the shrill trill of German words hanging in the air. Like an overture before a grand opera, except those thirty seconds were the only prep time you’d get to turn on your heel and book it out of there if you didn’t want to say hello to your biggest headache.

“Oh, daaaarling! There you are! Hey- Don’t run away!”

An outstretched pair of arms materialized on either side of your body, and you let out a loud yelp before you were pulled backwards into a tight hug. You screeched like a feral cat, clawing helplessly at the air while a loud haughty laugh rang out against your eardrums.

It was only when you turned around that the sense of hearing gave out to the sense of sight. Beautiful strands of blond-blue hair swept across your eyes, the twinkle of his golden locks not too unlike the catlike gleam in his pupils. Speaking of his eyes, you hated the stupid bastard for how much blue he had on him and more importantly, how good it looked. Even the smug azure of his crinkled eyes made you stop breathing for just a split second, and your lips parted unconsciously as your hatred momentarily dissipated into wonder at the delicate hue.

“Staring at me? Awwwww, do you think I’m handsome? Of course you do. You wouldn't be so starstruck otherwise,” he chuckled. You instantly snapped out of your stupor, and you twisted your face into a disgusted frown.

“Take your hands off of me, you idiot,” you snarled. “I’m not in the mood to talk to you.”

“Oh? Perfect. I think that’s perfect timing to talk to you.” Kaiser kept one arm slung firmly over your shoulders, expertly placing himself at your side. You dug your heels into the ground and kept your place whenever he tried to edge you closer to his torso, egging you to relax into his touch. “Busy being a little color nerd again? I think it’s adorable that you’d pick your favorite color after me-”

“-I did not pick my favorite color after you,” you huffed. You crossed your arms, and you glared directly up at him (this time, you took extra care not to get lost in his eyes). “Do you really think I don’t have a personality or something? To pick a favorite color after a man?”

He shrugged. “Hey, I’m a pretty charming guy, if I do say so myself. Just now, you couldn’t keep your eyes off of me. I’d say I wear the color well. Say, if I swapped my red eyeliner out for a blue one, would that make you stare at me even more?”

You wanted to push him off, but you knew better than to engage a professional athlete in a half-wrestle-half-run-for-your-life-thing. “In your dreams. You’re an atrocious mix of colors.”

“Sure.” He easily brushed your words off. He broke out into his usual smug grin, chuckling at you as if he were a cat toying with a mouse. If he could, you swore that he’d gobble you up in one bite and leave no crumbs. “But I’d say blue is totally my color.”

Red hot annoyance flooded your body. This was so unlike you, to be moved to such anger that you’d be thinking of any color other than your favorite cyan hue, but something about this man made you want to beat him to a bloody pulp until he truly was nothing more than a mix of crimson and black and white broken bones.

“Blue is MY color!” You grumbled. “I liked it even before I met you! Hell, I probably understand it better than you do! Dipping your hair in Kool-Aid and being born with blue eyes doesn’t automatically make blue your color! It’s my favorite color, and me liking it has nothing to do with you! Not everything revolves around you, Kaiser!”

You fumed at him, having blurted out all of the tension mounting inside of your chest. You stood there, wanting to claw off the weight of his arm across your shoulders. You wondered if Kaiser would yell back at you, if those beautiful sapphire eyes of his would narrow into small slits before he’d wind up for the pounce, if he truly would swallow you up into a void of blue nothingness just to prove you wrong.

But instead he threw his head back, and he laughed heartily.

“You’re too funny for your own good.” He pretended to wipe a tear from his eye with his other hand, and he barely held himself together long enough to look at you. “The world? Revolve around me? Maybe to all those other stupid commoners. Those brainless fools need a stunning star to guide them. To give them any purpose in life.”

You grimaced, skin crawling with disdain as he yanked you closer. His free hand caressed the outline of your cheeks and jaw, and you let out a small “eep!” as he hooked his fingers under your chin to gingerly lift your face to meet his. You held your breath as the German prodigy leaned in, until the silhouette of his peach-pink lips were much too close to your mouth for your liking.

“But, darling… Oh, my sweet, stupid darling…” His voice was far too smooth for your own liking. Like the lining of a regal blue mink-fur lined cape, the kind you’d see in a 1700s painting of a king, the edge you get from swallowing down a mouthful of ice water. He looked too pleased with himself, having you ensnared perfectly in his arms like this. The thick tension that hung between the two of you felt like poisoned honey, and he shook his head at you mockingly. “If anyone were to pay attention closely, they’d know that the script is much more different for you than it is for those everyday fools.”

“Don’t lump me in your weird fantasy.” You blinked at him defiantly. He pursed his lips slightly, but Kaiser didn’t waver even once.

“All I want to say is that there’s nothing wrong in admiring beautiful things. If you like blue that much, nothing wrong with admiring the blue on me, is there? It’s unhealthy to deny yourself the things that you love so much.” He let you go finally, and you practically leapt out away from him. “If you don’t want to throw yourself at my feet and beg to play the role of my dedicated love interest, that’s fine too! Although, I don’t see why you wouldn’t want to. Anyone would be honored to have my attention the way you do.”

“You’re a self-centered prick. I don’t want to give you any more attention than what I’m already wasting on you.”

“That’s what I’m saying! If you let down your high walls and properly let yourself admire me for the beautiful, charming, handsome guy I am, then it wouldn’t be a waste of your time.” He expertly flicked his hair over his shoulder, winking at you as some of the strands tumbled down his collarbones and back. As atrocious of a haircut as it was, you did have to admit that the color of his weird gradient was very pleasing to your eyes.

But you’d rather eat knives than admit it out loud.

“You’ll have to try harder than that. Anyone can dye hair,” you muttered, thoroughly unconvinced. “And before you ask, I’m not interested in staring at your eyes either. Blue eyes mean nothing to me. And I can always go buy color contacts off the internet and stare at those instead if I really want to.”

“Boo! That’s so boring! Wouldn’t you want a real living person? Someone with personality?” He pouted.

You rolled your own eyes. “Yeah. Someone that doesn’t have a stick stuck up their ass.”

Kaiser pressed his lips into a line, suddenly lost in heavy thought. He knew your patience was already running thin with him, and while it was frustrating that the typical antics he’d lavish onto his fans wasn’t netting him the reaction he wanted from you, it still thrilled him the same. You were so tough to crack! He knew deep down that you had some heart for him and that you loved admiring beautiful things! And was he not the most beautiful thing of them all? He was skilled, talented, the kind of guy anyone should be flattered to have. All he needed was to convince you with something unique, something that no other groupie or fan of his couldn’t have, and maybe that would be the key to luring you over.

To turn that burning red hatred of yours into a calm, placated blue interest.

“Well, what if I give you something truly special then? If I could show you something that you have to admit is beautiful, would you admire me then?” He offered tentatively. You sniffed, keeping your head held high, but he took your silence to mean that it wasn’t a complete refusal.

He broke out into the biggest grin you had ever seen. Your confidence wavered slightly at his smug smirk, and nervousness prickled over your skin. You held your breath as Kaiser slowly raised his hand to his neck. Two fingers hooked onto the golden collar of his Bastard Munchen uniform, which covered a generous portion of his neck.

He yanked down.

A flash of deep, royal blue stunned your vision, and your eyes instinctively widened. Kaiser tilted his neck to the opposite side, making sure you could catch a proper glimpse at the part of his throat that was normally concealed by his uniform. You felt like something inside of your brain had violently hit the brakes the moment the color hit your eyes.

Roses.

Beautiful, beautiful blue roses.

You’re automatically entranced by them. They’re tattoos, each expertly painted on his skin with a careful hand. The black outline makes the rich hues pop even more against his body, and while you tiptoe forward to catch a better view, you can only make out the better part of one of the bigger roses. The rest are covered by his uniform, and you can see the hint of inked thorns traveling away from the flowers and towards his arm.

Kaiser instantly caught the shift in energy from you. He wisely kept his mouth shut, but some prideful part of him was celebrating inwardly. He let you step closer to admire the handiwork on his body, your curiosity delighting him to no ends.

You wanted to touch them. To touch him. Oh, you could imagine the feeling of soft rose petals under your fingertips while you were utterly mesmerized by his tattoo, almost forgetting that it was just an inked drawing rather than real flowers.

“Well? Isn’t it lovely?”

You flinched, snapping back to life. Dumbfounded, you were at a loss for words. It was completely unlike you to not have some kind of mean comeback to snark at him with, but the secret weapon Kaiser had on hand was too much. His tattoo had overwhelmed you in a heartbeat, the artistic touch only making you want to see it again.

But unfortunately for you, he adjusted his uniform back into its regular position with a cruel smile. “See? I knew you’d like it. Do you want to look at it again? Oh, I know you do. C’mon, tell me. Tell me you want to see it again. It’s not like I’m going to refuse.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, and very hesitantly, you swallowed back your pride. “Can… Can I see your tattoo again?”

“With pleasure, darling.” He cooed. He paused for a moment, and he pulled you closer towards him. You gulped nervously when he peered down at you, clearly savoring the victory he had earned by pulling wool (or in this case, a lovely tattoo) over your eyes.

“But why don’t I take you to my room instead? I’ll take off my shirt for you. That way you can see the entire thing. And then you can fawn over me properly. You just said you wanted to see my tattoo again. Those pretty roses,” he leaned in, tempting you over and over with the fleeting memory, “Those pretty, pretty roses that are in your absolute favorite color.”

You were torn, and Kaiser reveled in that tormented expression of yours.

He held his hand out. “No need to be shy. Let me show you all sorts of beautiful blue things, my darling.”

#blue lock #bllk #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #michael kaiser #x reader #my writing #this is me totally not self projecting (insane abt the color blue)#also please genuinely check out the song i picked out for this fic #the lyrics make so many color references n i genuinely think its so like . fitting for kaiser #esp the lyric when woodz says #'anyone can have a passionate red love'#'but between us its blue so make it more more blue'#I PROMMY IT MAKES MORE POETIC SENSE IN THE OG KOREAN BUT ITS SUCH A GOOD LYRIC TO ME #there is rot in the brain #also if u make any inappropriate jokes ill literally kill u

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hlvstia · 11 months

Text

— let loose.

pairing : peter parker x f!reader ( tom!spider )

summary : you find peter angrily training by himself.

warnings : fic MENTIONS spoilers for no way home && MENTIONS blood and death a wee bit. do NOT read if you havent seen nwh and if you aren’t comfortable with said topics.

a/n: switches to 2nd and 3rd pov but doesn’t change the style too much! :)

word count : 1.5k+ MY BIGGEST YET !!! got carried away. OKAY, have fun reading! send requests and i’ll write them <3 also got two fics coming up hehe

after dr. stranges spell, he was furious with himself. he hated the fact how he was forced to forget you and his friends.

all he wanted to do was run into your arms and kiss you. that’s all he wanted. unfortunately, he couldn’t; the presence that he once had was certainly gone because of something he decided to do.

everyday he breathed air was a reminder that you were no longer in the grasp of his arms. he could no longer kiss you to sleep whenever you had a hard time falling asleep.

he was your forte. and your reason to keep on pushing.

god, peter had felt worthless without his close circle. he had to get his anger out somehow. i mean, who was suppose to bottle in the feeling of losing his aunt and his close friends in a close time span?

without a single thought, his fist aimed for the matted material, hitting his knuckles against it as the punching bag jerked back, the chain rattling each time he did.

each punch was a feeling he held inside— one for his aunt, one for you, one for mj and one of ned. each fuckin’ time his knuckles dug into the training equipment was a reminder of how much he was pathetic. at least to himself.

nor’ did he have any gloves to protect his hands. he didn’t care at this point, not caring how much his hands bled from his harsh punches.

hell, his tears threatened to spill out from his puffed up eyes. you could already tell he’s been having a tough time, hence, finding him connecting his fist to the bricked wall behind him.

[y/n] furrowed her eyebrows together, seeing him let out a couple of weak grunts as she grabbed a clean damp towel, approaching the male who seemed irregular than ever.

seeing you made him freeze in his spot, his eyes slightly widening to the fact that you approached him first. he knew you came here regularly, training yourself just in case something horrible had happen to you in the middle of the streets.

so, he signed up for a membership and began training and tracking your schedule for whenever you came. 6pm on the dot always. if anything, he would even catch the moon for you.

“hi, i know it’s not my place but i couldn’t help but notice your knuckles… they’re, uh, bleeding?” your voice was soft spoken, your eyes pointing at his knuckles, the dried blood latching onto his skin. “can i?” you continued, holding out the damp towel to him. “i… yeah,”

most of his words were caught in his throat as he held out his knuckles to you, his eyes focused on your facial features. you were still beautiful as ever to him— the way your lips looked, and the way your eyes were soft everytime they were hyperfixiated.

your lips curled into a small smile, softly pressing the towel onto his knuckles as it picked up the blood, swiping it with a low pressure to wash away the dried blood, but not too much to injur him.

peter winced, sucking the air between his teeth quietly as the fabric made impact with his open cuts, causing him to bite down onto his lips.

[y/n] chuckled softly, feeling bad about his pain but she couldn’t help but giggle at his foolish decisions. “sorry, but maybe next time wear gloves? they help a lot, i promise.” you suggested, wiping his knuckles one last time before folding the towel and pushing his hands down in a soft manner.

there it was again. this was the reason why he had fallen in love with you in the first place. you were always soft and caring to everyone, even if you barely even knew them.

“thanks again, but uh— it didn’t cross my mind to wear gloves. i guess i was heated in the moment? can’t really explain what i was thinking.” peter took one more glance at his knuckles before meeting with your eyes again, this time, his face softening with yours.

“no problem, but can i wrap them up for you? i wouldn’t want your hands getting infected.” you suggested, turning your back to another part of the gym as you started walking, not giving him a chance to deny your offer. “i wouldn’t want to give you too much work— oh, uh… okay!” he nervously followed you behind, keeping a safe distance between you two.

he had a soft blush on his face, not being able to contain the fluttering in his heartbeat each second he looked at you.

as you finally approached your gym bag, you dug in there until you found your packed med kit, placing it on the ground as you opened it, hearing the click. “always bring this with me just in case someone got hurt,” you mumbled to him, searching for an alcohol wipe for his open cut.

he knew you did, but couldn’t bring up the fact that he was aware of it already.

“really? wow, you seem really sweet.” he softly grinned at your comment, his heartbeat becoming faster as he saw you get up, tearing the packet open. “thank you, i would hope i am.” you laughed at his remark, cleaning his knuckles with the wipe. “oh, sorry! forgot to warn you!” quietly gasping to yourself, you felt his body tense up from the sudden stinging spreading throughout his cut.

“n-no, you’re fine! it’s just an alcohol wipe, no biggie.” he mumbled, his body returning to its original state. “yeah but again, it hurts— i mean, the stinging pain is no fun.” you sighed, going back to your bag to grab the bandages that was nearby the med kit.

“right but maybe i should be used by this feeling now… i keep finding myself hurt.” peter flexed his hand, feeling the muscles pull as you tilted your head in confusion. “by training! because, um, i rarely bring my boxing gloves.” he quickly caught himself before you could question him, forgetting that you used to know his secret identity.

“oh? maybe you should approach me often. i’ll patch you up for free… i’d hate to see you hurt.” you unwrapped the adhesive bandage, circling the adhesive around his knuckles and around his fingers.

he let out a breathy chuckle, watching you tear the bandage and attaching it to the side of his hand. “i’ll take up on your offer, i guess i should be more aware though.” smiling to himself, he pressed his hands onto his sides.

“yaknow, i can’t help but fathom myself onto why you seem… so familar to me. have i seen you outside this gym?” [y/n] arched an eyebrow up, packing up her stuff as she zipped the bag closed.

peter couldn’t help but to nervously smile, scratching the back of his neck. there was no way you remembered, right? but again, he did visit the coffee shop you picked up shifts at. “the coffee shop not too far from here… you work there, right?” he responded, looking down to see you getting your stuff together.

“yeah, i do! forgot that this street is mostly filled with regulars!” you snickered, throwing the bag up to hold it on your shoulder.

you get a flashback of to you giving him coffee everyday, writing his name down on each cup sleeve. “peter, right?” you finally said his name.

and that just sent a million sparks inside him, feeling his knees be frail on spot. you had actually remember his name. “yeah, that’s me. peter parker, and, uh…” he paused for a moment, closing his eyes to try and remembering your name tag you had pinned to your shirt. “[y/n], isn’t that correct?” peter snapped his fingers when he finally remembered.

of course he did, but had to play it cool— man, this was going to be hard. having to fake everything because he didn’t forget anything about you.

“[y/n], [y/n] [l/n] to be exact.” you flashed a charming smile, holding out your hand for him to shake.

“it’s a pleasure to finally talk to you, [y/n].” his smile returned back, his hand barely curling as you two shook hands, gently.

fuck, it was so nice to actually say your name in front of you. your name rolling off his tongue perfectly.

“yeah, the pleasures mine!” you nodded, quickly checking your watch as you saw the time.

your eyes had widened, recalling that you had a friend hangout with mj and ned. “oh, gosh— i have to go, so sorry!” you exclaimed, taking one last look at him.

“wait! can i… get your number before you leave?” he blurted out, rushing to whip out his phone, opening up his contacts list. “for sure! you’ll have to text me later though!” you inclined, typing in your digits as you even inserted your name, pressing ‘done’ once you had finished.

“b-bye! text you later!” he watched you leave, hearing the bell ring as you fixed your clothes, speed-walking to the place you had to be.

just as always, he knew the time you arrived back home. 9:30pm, sometimes 9:50pm if you were at a restaurant with your friends.

as hours passed, you reached to your doormat and immediately heard a ‘ding!’ sound coming from your phone, and just to your surprise.

it was peter, peter parker.

looking at the unknown number for a second, you quickly changed it to his name, following along with a special emoji.

thank you for reading until the end! i know i keep bugging about it but SEND in your requests and reblog this post! it helps me a lot and makes me happy.

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animasola86 · 2 months

Text

News travels fast in Hogwarts - Option 2

Notes: This is one of the options you have at the end of this oneshot.

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!reader Genre: Fluff/Angst // Words: 1.1k // [READ ON AO3]

Synopsis: You wake up from a weird dream (or do you?) and find yourself in the arms of this freckled boy.

WARNINGS: Angst? Implied infidelity? A tiny bit of spice, nothing to worry about.

You stirred, tossing and turning, moaning and groaning, your body on high alert. It was when two arms wrapped around your middle and pulled you against a warm body that you slowly relaxed, your thundering heart calming, your breaths easing until you sighed deeply.

“Are you okay?” a soft, low voice rang in your ear, and the sound of it made your eyes flutter open.

First you blinked in confusion, then you furrowed your brows before you followed the sudden urge to turn around and stare at whoever had asked you that. Your heart jumped back into terror mode when you noticed two brown eyes looking at you in the semi-darkness of the room, warm and deep and twinkling, and a playful smirk playing around a very inviting mouth.

“What's wrong, love?” Sebastian asked quietly, his arms tightening around you, his freckled face slightly concerned now as you kept staring at him.

“I... uh...” you stammered, your body stiffening in his hold. “B-bad dream, I suppose...” It had been a dream, right? Confusion washed over you as if you'd put your head in a cloud, rendering you completely speechless.

He raised a hand and caressed your cheek, smiling softly. “Well, you're awake now, it's alright,” he whispered, slowly scooting closer until his face was barely an inch away from yours. He felt so familiar, and you felt so warm and safe in his embrace, and yet it was all strange, as if something wasn't right. Something was off. Were you still dreaming?

Your hand almost moved on its own as it slid over his warm chest, up his throat, around his jaw, your fingertips gliding over his freckles as if they wanted to connect the dots, mapping his face in gentle motions. Your fingers dug into his messy hair, your thumb tracing the shape of his lips. He watched you patiently, unmoving, curious.

“Is this real?” you then breathed, slowly leaning in, your hot breath ghosting his chin.

His thick eyebrows furrowed slightly before one of them arched up in confusion. “Do you think this is a dream?”

“It feels like one,” you whispered, tilting your head, staring into his dark eyes, your lips almost brushing against his.

“I'm not sure if I should be flattered or concerned,” he replied with a smirk, his low voice vibrating through your very core.

You blinked slowly, your tongue darting out of your mouth to wet your lips, brushing against his in the process. He took the invitation and pressed his mouth to yours, his hands on your back pulling you even closer. You gasped into the kiss, but quickly indulged him and met his eager tongue, your eyes fluttering shut as you let yourself fall into his touch.

It felt like old times and new adventures all at once. So familiar, like a comforting cup of tea, a taste you were so used to, but then also like a box of Bertie Botts Beans, every twist of his tongue against yours like a new flavour you had never experienced before, luckily only the good ones. You gripped his hair tighter as you deepened the kiss, and he groaned quietly into your mouth.

The noise made your eyelids flutter, and when you looked at him, he was watching you too, his motions growing slower before he gave you a peck and leaned away slightly, breathing just a little bit rougher, as did you. Your fingers eased over his messy locks, while his hands rubbed soothing circles into your back.

You were still confused.

“What was that dream of yours about?” he asked softly while you settled your head back into the pillow.

Biting your lip, you stared into his eyes, quickly getting lost in their warmth. “Us,” you whispered then.

He raised an eyebrow. “And why was it bad?”

“Because we were... not like this... not together...” you stammered, trying to make sense of the conflicting emotions and memories in your heart and mind.

A shadow crept over his freckled face. “Well, love, we're not,” he then said darkly.

“What?” you breathed in confusion, your lips tingling.

“We're not together,” he stated, his voice low, a hint of sadness clinging to his words.

“But... we're... here...” you breathed, frowning deeply, your hand pressing against his warm chest, your own heartbeat echoing loudly in your ears as you felt his thrumming against your palm. “Together in bed...”

A sigh escaped him. “Well spotted, but it's not like you think...”

You didn't know what to think anymore. None of this made any sense. “What are you saying?”

One of his hands cupped your cheek, his warmth seeping into your skin. “You're with somebody else.”

His words made you stiffen immediately. Your eyebrows furrowed so much you felt your head starting to hurt. Your mind was racing, head spinning, thoughts tumbling over each other, various emotions colliding violently. “What?”

He sighed loudly, his breath ghosting your trembling lips. “You changed your mind, love. Can't you remember?”

You stared at him, feeling hot and cold at the same time. Something vile crept up your throat. “It... wasn't a dream?” you managed to croak out, your voice breaking in disbelief.

His eyes wandered over your face, he neither confirmed nor denied it, he only grabbed your face and pulled it towards him, his nose nuzzling against yours.

“Play along,” he whispered, like an echo of whatever happened earlier, dream or not, and then his lips were on yours again, his kiss as desperate as you could remember, intense and hungry, so passionate you quickly felt light-headed as you forgot to breathe through it.

Your eyes fluttered shut, and the world blurred at the edges. All you felt was his warmth, his eager mouth and tongue, his arm pressing you against his hard body. His hand moved down your front, and you only noticed the bold move when his fingers pressed between your thighs. A surprised moan escaped you.

“Yes, love, be as vocal as you want, let them hear who you really belong to,” he breathed into your mouth.

You couldn't move, you couldn't do anything, and frankly, you didn't want to. You wanted him to kiss you breathless, touch you like he used to touch you, and you wanted to show everyone how lucky you were. The thought of holding hands in public brought the image of another face into your clouded mind, and a sudden cold washed over you as two dark eyes stared at you, creases deepened in disappointment.

Your confused whimper was swallowed by a captivating mouth before the world stopped spinning, and you fell into deafeningly quiet darkness.

End notes: Aaaand are you any wiser now? Or is this just another dream? A dream within a dream? Was it real all along? (I honestly could keep the loop going, and IT WILL ALWAYS BE TUESDAY! But I'll leave that up to you!)

Do you want to go back to the first option? Do you think she'll wake up in somebody else's arms again?

And if you read this in succession: were both correct? What was a dream and what not? Again, that is totally up to you!

Original post - Option 1

[ MASTERLIST ] [ AO3 ]

#sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow fic #sebastian sallow fanfic #sebastian sallow oneshot #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow angst #angst #drama #reader insert #fem reader #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fic #hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts legacy oneshot

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lunatiqez · 11 months

Text

“MAKEOVER” — Allison Reynolds x Reader

PAIRING: Allison Reynolds x Goth!Reader

GENRE: Platonic

SUMMARY: After getting a bright idea, reader, who is a goth, decides to give Allison a makeover in their style.

WORD COUNT: 0.6k

A/N: Yippee!!!! I love the breakfast club sm, Allison is such a cutie. Requested by anon and proofread by @lu-vin-it !! P.S., I don’t wear a bunch of makeup, so I hope I explained the makeup scene well enough to understand :)

SHERMER HIGH SCHOOL, CHICAGO Illinois. been sitting in detention for about four hours and have made some unlikely friends. Andrew Clark: the “athlete.” Claire Standish: the “princess.” Brian Johnson: the “brain.” John Bender: the “criminal.” Last but most certainly not least, Allison Reynolds: the “basket case.”

Out of all of them, Allison was the person you got along with the best. You were labeled as “The Goth” in school. You always wore thick eyeliner, black lipstick, and dark clothes. The kids in school described you as a real life vampire. Most of the time, you just scoffed and rolled your eyes.

You were in detention for skipping class. It’s not like you skipped the whole period. Just most of it. You had to fix your makeup because you were in a rush that morning.

Unfortunately, out of all the people that could have caught you, it was Mr. Vernon. You two already didn’t like each other, and this made matters worse.

That’s the recap, though. Now you’re doing your time and talking to people who you wouldn’t be caught dead with otherwise.

After your dance break, John had to go back to Mr. Vernon’s closet and there was small talk between you and the four other teenagers. Then you got the brightest idea.

“Allison.” You announce her name. She looks over at you with curiosity. “C’mere.” The girl walks over to you and you present your idea in her ear. She smiles toothily and nods her head. You smile back and lead her to a supply closet, bringing your bag with you.

Once in the closet, you pull out your palest concealer, liquid eyeliner, black eyeshadow, and tube of black lipstick. She sits on a table and fidgets with her fingers excitedly.

You dot concealer underneath her eyes, patting it into Allison’s skin with your finger. She flinches a couple times, then gets used to the sensation.

Once done with the base, you move onto eyeshadow. You brush the black pigment onto her eyelids and bring it down to the bridge of her nose, contouring the skin with the eyeshadow.

You contour the rest of her face— her cheekbones, forehead, and her chin. By now, she’s looking almost identical to you. You smile, prideful of her transformation.

“Now it’s the hard part,” you say slightly, unscrewing your eyeliner lid. “You’ll be fine, just hold very still.” She complies.

You line under her eyes and then wing it up to the corner. You connect the eyeliner to her top lid and fill it in, doing the same with the other eye.

You then pull away from her face, smiling. Allison looks amazing as a goth. You silently hoped she would like the look as much as you do. You dug in your bag for your compact mirror and handed it to her. She opened it up, and when she saw her reflection, she smiled wider than ever and squeaked again.

“Do you like it??” You ask excitedly. She nods. The two of you talk some more and then you bring her out to the library for the others to see her.

Brian smiles at her awkwardly, and you swear you can see a dust of pink cloud across his face. Claire gasps and says she looks really good as a goth. Finally, Andres is left speechless. Allison looks at the floor in embarrassment.

“See something you like, Andrew?” You ask loudly, teasing him. He looks at Allison, and then you, and then Allison again. He then nods slightly, making you giggle.

“Go get your honey.” You whisper in Allison’s ear. She playfully swats your shoulder.

#the breakfast club #breakfast club #breakfast club x reader #breakfast club x you #breakfast club x y/n #breakfast club fanfic #breakfast club fanfiction #Allison Reynolds #Allison Reynolds breakfast club #Allison Reynolds x reader #Allison Reynolds x you #Allison Reynolds x y/n #goth reader #trad goth #80s goth #📂 — liv’s writings ★.

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mixelation · 11 months

Text

reborn au; itachi pov ->

NOTE: my headcanon is that people didn't immediately connect the dots between naruto and his parents in part because kushina actively hid she was pregnant. i forget the exact wording, but biwako tells kushina off for talking to mikoto in a way that implies kushina was meant to keep her pregnancy on the down low. so my hc is that once the baby bump was too big to hide with clothing, kushina started limiting public appearances. so there's a line in here where she says she disappeared bc the pregnancy left her bedridden-- that's her cover up story

(no proofreading we die like men)

***

Itachi was four when his father brought him to a battlefield.

He remembered this happening, the first time around. It was one of his earliest memories. This time around, he was just starting to become aware of himself. The entire lifetime shoved into his little head had been confusing and upsetting, and his first few years of life had felt like a blur.

But now he knew with vivid clarity who he was. He was Uchiha Itachi, murderer, criminal, and traitor, and he did not want to go. But he also did not know how to make his father stop.

“I don’t like this,” he repeated again and again. “I want to go back.”

“That’s good,” his father told him, his grip tight on his arm. “You’re not supposed to like this.”

Itachi stared down at a man gasping at his feet, and he remembered his father lying dead on their floor. He remembered his mother, his auntie, his cousin…

The dying shinobi made a pathetic attempt to gouge a kunai into Itachi's tiny leg, and he stepped back. The man’s breath was a horrible rattling, and he was going to die if he didn’t get proper medical attention soon. No help was coming for him. It would be more merciful if Itachi killed him.

I think I hate him, Itachi thought of Fugaku. He bent to pick up the dying man’s kunai. Fugaku didn’t even wince as Itachi dug the blade into the man’s neck. Quick and painless.

Fugaku looked… almost approving.

“War forces us to make hard choices. Sometimes impossible choices,” he said. “Remember that.”

Perversely, Itachi felt the urge to laugh.

Maybe he hates me, he thought.

xXx

Itachi hated the Academy. He hated the chatter of other children, their looks of awe and jealousy and fear in turns, and he hated the way teachers looked at him. He thought about playing at being average, at grasping for the childhood he never had. But every conversation he had with a child annoyed him, and every patronizing look from a teacher made his eye tick just a little more.

“You did what?” laughed Shisui, the only child Itachi could stand. “Genjutsu? Itachi, they’re going to notice.”

Shisui was deep in the woods, practicing with kunai. Shisui was three years older than Itachi and also still in the Academy, but Shisui had permission to skip lectures for personal training. Itachi did not. Instead, he had placed an illusion on his teacher and all his classmates to think he was still there.

“They won’t notice,” he told Shisui. “They never do.”

“Well, whatever,” Shisui replied. “You can practice with me, but I’m not gonna bail you out if you get caught.”

Itachi knew this was a lie. Shisui would lie for him. He lied to Itachi's parents for him all the time.

This Shisui was not old enough to dole out the comforting pieces of wisdom of Itachi’s old life. But he was clever and mature enough to hold a real conversation, and he never looked at Itachi like everyone else did. His smile always cheered him up, and he occasionally told a joke bad enough to get Itachi to crack a smile.

Shisui threw more kunai, and Itachi knocked them out of the air with shuriken. Shisui frowned and tried a more complicated throw. Itachi purposefully missed one of the kunai, just to let him see how off his aim was with this throw.

Shisui groaned.

“You don’t have to look so happy,” he chided, stepping forward to pry the stray kunai out of the tree bark. It wasn’t anywhere close to the target.

“It’s not that,” Itachi replied. He hesitated. “I got some good news this morning.”

“Oh yeah?” Shisui asked, flipping the kunai in his hand with a thoughtful expression on his face. Trying to recalculate what had gone wrong with his throw, no doubt.

Itachi was sure he wasn’t meant to share this secret, but also it was burning its way through his heart.

“I’m going to be a big brother,” he said.

Shisui blinked, his face filled with surprise. Then a broad grin spread across it.

“That’s awesome, cuz. Congratulations.”

Shisui shoved the kunai back into his weapons pack before throwing his arms around Itachi. Itachi leaned into the hug, gripping Shisui back tighter than he needed to. Every hug terrified him with the thought that it could be his last.

He’d been terrified that Sasuke somehow wouldn’t exist in this timeline, that maybe his even stranger personality would poison his parents for more children, or that any minor change in his actions might cause some other younger sibling to be conceived at a different time. But his mother’s projected due date was close to Sasuke’s birthday. Itachi was now more terrified that Sasuke would exist, and then Itachi would lose him anyway.

xXx

Sasuke’s birth was almost exactly how Itachi remembered it. The date and time were the same. The squashed little baby face was the same. The weight of him in Itachi’s arms was the same.

My little brother, Itachi thought, Sasuke cradled to his chest. So you made it too.

Itachi’s parents let him take two days and a weekend off of school to be with his new brother. He asked to hold Sasuke whenever he could. On the Monday he was meant to go back to school, he went to the Hokage.

Itachi barely remembered Namikaze Minato. But he’d gathered his family was friends with him somehow, and he used this to get into his office.

“Early graduation…?” Minato looked exhausted. Itachi did not remember this from his previous life’s memories, but then again those memories were the faint ones of a true child. “Itachi, you're a very talented student, but I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Minato lectured him about social bonds and having time to grow. Itachi pointed out he didn’t have friends and wasn’t sure he could make them, when he was intellectually on a much higher level than other children. For some reason, Minato didn’t like this argument.

“I want to have more time with my new brother,” Itachi admitted.

“Being a genin is busy work,” Minato warned him.

“I know,” Itachi replied, “but I could have a more flexible schedule, and eventually I’ll be able to pick my own missions.”

Minato’s lips thinned, unconvinced. Itachi considered genjutsu. But he wasn’t sure how resistant the Hokage would be, and if he didn’t do it flawlessly, he absolutely wouldn’t be getting anything he wanted out of him ever again.

“I’m just so bored,” Itachi tried, mimicking the way Shisui would complain. It sounded foreign and bizarre on his tongue, but it did make Minato’s lips quirk up.

“I’ll think about it,” Minato allowed.

Three weeks and two interviews with the headmaster to test his skills later, Itachi was a genin after only four months at the Academy.

“That’s my son,” Fugaku told him, and his mother cooked all his favorite foods for dinner with a placid smile on her face, like she also wouldn’t burn the village down and tear her family apart. Itachi tried not to vomit.

For Sasuke.

xXx

Itachi did not care about breaking records. He did not care about accolades or prestige. He did not care about his new genin team or saving the Hokage’s soon to be cut short life. He only cared about Sasuke.

And so, as far as he could see, he had a choice come October tenth. He could attempt to interfere with Obito when he came to attack Konoha with the Kyuubi, or he could stay by Sasuke’s side.

Itachi knew he could not take Obito as he was. Itachi was brilliant for his age and could take on most adult shinobi, but his chakra reserves were low and his physical prowess was limited by his age. He could not engage Obito in combat or take control of the Kyuubi with his own sharingan. He could not do what the Hokage was about to die trying to do.

He considered spying or trying to gather new information. But he already knew a great many things about the man pretending to be Uchiha Obito, and he would not risk Sasuke’s life by abandoning him. He was an officially recognized shinobi now, even if he was only six and only a genin. He would have access to some avenues of shinobi gossip and records he hadn’t had in the past, and when he inevitably flew through the ranks, he’d get more.

On the night of the Kyuubi attack, Itachi made sure to stay home, with baby Sasuke.

Curiously, nothing happened.

Nothing very important continued to happen for several weeks. It bent Itachi out of shape, not knowing what was happening. He snapped at his teammates and skipped practices to hover over Sasuke’s crib. How could he defend Sasuke from danger, if he didn’t know where danger was coming from?

His Jounin sensei reported him as unstable, paranoid, and uncooperative. Whatever.

And then one day he came home to find the Hokage and his wife in his living room.

“Our babies are going to be best friends, you know!” the Hokage’s wife was yelling. Mikoto had her hand over her face to hide a giggle. They’d propped the babies against each other to sit up for a photo, like balancing two cards to make a house.

Minato was sitting on the couch with the camera in his hands. Fugaku sat at the other end, looking less stern than usual.

“Oh my gosh, Itachi-kun!” Kushina yelled, whipping around as he stepped into the room. “You get in the photo too!”

Itachi sat dumbly while Kushina piled babies onto him. He had not planned for this at all.

#reborn au #my writing

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pixiemage · 1 year

Text

These Small Hours

(So basically I saw the little "Sorry, Rancher!" moment between Jimmy and Tango, deemed it cute, and wrote 2k words of the fluffiest fluff that I imagine happens after the clocks are paused at the end of the session. :3)

(Title comes from "Little Wonders" by Rob Thomas)

[This work can also be read on Archive of our Own]

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Despite the exposure to the open air, sleeping on the roof of the half-burned woodland mansion was more pleasant than Jimmy had anticipated. The mass of torches ensured that no mobs would spawn nearby, and none could reach them up here from the ground with the way the lower portion of the building had been reduced to nothing but a shell. The sky above was strewn with stars, and even now - late into the night when he should’ve been sleeping - he traced patterns with his eyes, weaving invisible connections between the glimmering dots and trying to remember what few constellations he knew…and what few Tango had taught him on late nights on the roof of the ranch. The only downside, Jimmy supposed, was the chill, which was only slightly alleviated by a few lit furnaces nearby, and he supposed his wings helped a decent amount. But even so, a part of him longed for a warm bed and worn wood walls and a smoky scent on the pillow and familiar arms wound comfortably around him and a warm presence tucked close beside him.

Jimmy sighed softly, adjusting his wings to take some pressure off an aching point near his spine.

He missed Tango, was the truth of it. He knew his soulmate was on the same server as him, not even that far away with how small the map felt this season, but it still felt too far. Especially after the lone, brief exchange they’d had earlier in the rush of the game–

Teasing and bickering across a small stretch of water, Joel killing the cow, Etho spinning the boat around to face him, Tango leaping across the water to get a better view. Then Jimmy had rushed forward, had elbowed Tango aside, had only realized his mistake when he caught Tango’s stumbled, half-wincing landing out of the corner of his eye. He had cast a sheepish smile back over his shoulder, tossed back an apology - “Sorry, rancher!” - and their eyes, however briefly, had met. Tango had grinned, had laughed, had looked almost proud, and then threatened his life with a smile and wink. Then Jimmy and Joel had fled, and Etho had watched them go, and then…

Jimmy withheld another sigh and sat up, rolling his shoulders and his head to dispel the crick in his neck. There was no way he could sleep like this. He eased himself to his feet and crept away from Grian and Joel’s sleeping forms, careful to avoid weak patches of the roof so he wouldn’t make a creak and wake them up. Not that he was doing anything he wasn’t allowed to do. He just - didn’t want to try and explain. It felt private, personal.

When he reached the edge of the roof, he looked down. He could’ve tried to find a hole in the ceiling and land on the staircase he supposed, but he had attempted that earlier and gotten a sore ankle for his troubles. No, landing in grass seemed like a softer alternative if he somehow managed to bungle this. But he wouldn’t. He could do this. He was a bad boy, wasn’t he? He’d done a few water bucket clutches today already. He could do another. He was getting better at it, in truth, so surely he could do it again?

Jimmy dug a bucket of water from his inventory and took a break, stepping back before leaping from the edge. Gravity took hold quickly and he spread his wings. He couldn’t fly, but he could catch air, and it slowed him enough that timing the water would be easier - and - splash.

He stumbled, staggered, but it was a clean landing. (Despite it being such a small victory, Jimmy grinned. Nailed it.) With a quick cursory glance around to avoid any nearby hostile mobs, Jimmy stowed his water, summoned his sword, and ducked through the trees in search of the coastline that had been stolen from him and Joel earlier that day.

It was empty and quiet when Jimmy arrived. The water was still, Scott’s little cluster of manmade islands aglow in the distance, and the place was easily recognizable from the multiple times Jimmy had come by in the past day. But…it was empty and quiet. The little sandy strip of land that Tango and Etho and the rest of their team had been inhabiting early that afternoon was completely abandoned, the top few layers scraped away with no signs of life as far as Jimmy could see. He leapt across the little river separating it from the land, missing his step and sucking in a sharp gasp when his foot splashed into the water on the other side. He grimaced, shaking out his shoe.

Ugh. That was gonna be a pain to deal with later…

Slowly, quietly, Jimmy circled the little area a few times, his ear feathers flared to catch any stray sounds…but he heard nothing. Nothing but the sea and the wind and the occasional distant zombie or spider lingering off in the trees. Had they left? Had they moved on? Had they deemed the area not worthy and abandoned it even after their showdown against Jimmy and Joel? Jimmy sighed, a quiet and warbled chirp meeting the air and his wings drooping against his back. Oh. Maybe he should have messaged ahead. Of course, he had avoided doing that in the first place in case Tango was asleep and Jimmy’s message woke him up (and his teammates along with him), but it may have been a smarter move than simply sneaking over with no notice in the middle of the night. He cast a glance back the way he had come, the feathers around his ears pinning back against his head. Maybe he ought to go back. Maybe he should just give up and–

“...Jimmy?”

A hand brushed his shoulder, a whispered voice breaking the silence of the night, and Jimmy about leapt out of his skin. The sound that left him was one he was most certainly not proud of, but any embarrassment he may have felt vanished as soon as he whipped around on shocked, unsteady feet.

“Tango!”

And there Tango was, his clothes and hair just a little bit wet but his grin absolutely blinding. He had a hand half-raised and he was chuckling sheepishly, the corners of his eyes crinkled in amusement.

“Sorry, sorry!” He held back his laughter, his words low. “I didn’t mean to spook ya!”

Jimmy gaped at him and blinked away his surprise.

“Where did you even come from?!”

“Uh–” Tango jerked a thumb back over his shoulder toward the water then made a vague gesture toward his feet. “Our base? It’s underground. We dug out a bit of a sneaky-sneaky entrance underwater, but it’s a bit of a pain if I’m being honest. Except, after Martyn came through and dumped a pile of explosives on our heads it seemed like a good idea to get rid of topside entry, so–”

Oh. Oh. Oh, they were just–

“I thought you’d left or something,” Jimmy blurted, his feathers puffing up at the admission. “I didn’t see a base, and I haven’t heard from you since earlier, so I assumed…” He shrugged.

It sounded silly, really, when he said it like that. He sounded clingy almost, but he knew that Tango knew that wasn’t what he meant. In fact, Tango let out another stifled laugh and shook his head fondly, finally closing the gap to wrap a warm hand around Jimmy’s wrist and tug him closer.

“What, you missed me that much?” he murmured, teasing, cheeky, and Jimmy went a bit pink.

“Of course not,” he grumbled, trying to sound nonchalant, but from the way Tango’s grin widened he was doing an awful job.

It wasn’t as if Jimmy tried to hide that fact either. The moment Tango was close enough he all but melted into his soulmate’s space, cuddling close and tucking his face into the crook of Tango’s neck as though he belonged there. He slipped an arm around the blazeborn’s flame-warmed waist and let out a small sigh, the tension in his posture going slack almost instantly.

“Of course,” he amended, whispered, like a secret in the dark, and he reveled in the warm and affectionate little laugh he could feel vibrate through Tango’s chest from how closely they were standing.

“Wanna know the truth?” Tango asked. The fingers still wound around Jimmy’s wrist traced little circles against the skin where he held him. “I miiiight’ve been sneakin’ out to try and find you too.”

Jimmy pulled back just far enough to meet his eyes, his expression alight with curiosity and a flutter of affection warming his chest.

“Were you really?”

Tango grinned at him.

“What, you think I just happened to be outside when you came by?” he drawled. He cocked his head to the side with a sharp little smirk. “Nah, I ditched the guys to try and track down that mansion spot you and your team have claimed. It’s near spawn somewhere, and it’s kinda hard to miss. I figured I’d spot it soon enough. But it seems like you did some sneakificating of your own instead.” He lowered his voice playfully. “I guess you really are a bad boy, huh?” he teased, waggling his eyebrows, and Jimmy went a brilliant shade of red.

“Oh, stop, c’mon,” he whined, shrinking beneath the laughter in Tango’s eyes. “It’s just a team name, innit?”

“No no, I think I like it!” It was obvious Tango was withholding laughter as he carried on. “My soulmate’s a rebel. I think I can dig it. I’m sure I’ve got a leather jacket somewhere you can borrow if you wanna look the part–”

“Tangooo!”

Jimmy’s wings curled forward and he pressed his face back into Tango’s shoulder, if only to avoid the laughter he could see in every inch of his partner’s expression. And Tango did laugh then, bright and barking and echoing just slightly across the water. Jimmy grumbled and buried his face into the fabric of Tango’s hoodie, clearly something he had thrown on for the sake of his late-night escapade. His soulmate was the worst. W-O-R-S-T worst.

When Tango’s laughter finally faded, a calm sort of quiet settled over the pair. The water was calming and the breeze was light and the comfort of being back in Tango’s arms was enough for Jimmy to be so very tempted to drift off right where he stood…but that would be foolish, he knew. Except Tango’s touch along his wrist was soothing and at some point his other hand had come up to rest against the back of Jimmy’s neck, his fingers scratching lightly through Jimmy’s hair, and he was so warm.

“...don’t go fallin’ asleep on me, Feathers,” Tango teased softly. “C’mon, Grian won’t start the timers again until everyone is awake tomorrow. You can bunk up with me for the night, I’m sure none of the guys would mind.”

“Hm…?” Jimmy straightened slowly and it took him a long moment to register what Tango was offering. He frowned and glanced in the general direction of the mansion. “...they’ll wonder where I’ve gone,” he murmured. “Grain and Joel. I can’t - with the game–”

“Jim, c’mon.” Jimmy was pulled gently along toward the edge of the island and he didn’t really have much willpower to turn Tango down. “It’ll be fine. Etho is a super early riser. I’m sure he’ll wake one of us up before the rest of the server is up.”

Jimmy cast one last look back over his shoulder, but when he turned back to Tango, the blazeborn had a sweet, pleading look on his face, his eyes half-aglow and standing out in the darkness of the night.

“Please? I’ve missed you. I know we said it wouldn’t be fair to team together again but it’s driving me nuts being on the same server as you and not being near you.” He leaned in to better catch Jimmy’s eye. “You can’t sleep either, I can tell. One night. Clock’s not tickin’ right now. We’ve got time.”

They had time.

Jimmy sighed and let out warbled chirp, letting himself be tugged close to his soulmate again. Their foreheads bumped gently together, their noses brushing, and when they met in the middle in a soft and long-awaited kiss, Jimmy was the one to initiate it.

“...one night,” he returned once they had separated. “Just the one. Alright?”

Tango beamed.

“That’s all the time I need.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Our lives are made In these small hours These little wonders These twists and turns of fate Time falls away But these small hours These small hours Still remain

(A/N: ...approximately 30 seconds after they get into the base, they both receive a message from Scott saying he's glad they've "finally stopped flirting on the shoreline, water carries sound like you wouldn't believe".)

#Team Rancher #Solidaritek #TrafficShipping #Traffic Shipping #Limited Life SMP #24lsmp #Traffic Life SPOILERS #Limited Life SPOILERS #SPOILERS ABOUND #Pixiemage Writes

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smilingangel582 · 7 months

Text

Afraid of nuthin'

Warning spoilers alert well until Heizou's hangout event and itto story quest

Ps. If u aren't a fan of tickling and friendly things that don't seem more your type and less bizarre, feel free to scroll down... thank you and enjoyyyy my loveliees!

(Lee!heizou and ler!Itto - featuring oopse... *clamps a hand on my mouth* It's a secret and a surprise ending)

***

"Heizouu!"

Startled by the booming voice outside of shimura's restaurant, the young detective Heizou almost spills his tea. It's the third time this month, at least... that Itto gets him to react so differently.

"Itto old chap... Maybe it's better to lower your volume down in public places. " Heizou squints with an assuring expression when the oni steps in almost slipping into a crashing speed at the fragile looking restaurant.

"Oopse, you got it my hombre," he salutes now, walking along with Heizou, who's in fact on his break but rather scavenging for some new intriguing mysteries under Sango's nose.

"Hey buddy," Itto speaks after a few minutes of strolling, probably out if boredom.

"Yes?"

"I'm interested... every instant I see ya, especially during the test of courage," Itto gestures comically as they walk outside Inazuma a bit "you don't seem scared of anything... right?"

Tricky... if he said yes, it would mean Itto will start a troublesome game of finding Heizou's fear, leading to trifling conclusions. Then if he says no... and admit he is. He'll have to spill the impossible. Truthfully, not even he knows what he's afraid... maybe when there will be a day that mysteries won't exist?

"Um... well Itto, I am a human so it might be dramatic to say I'm not scared..."

Either way as Heizou deduced Itto intends to investigate his fear.

Chuckling now "Well, say you are more fearless than an oni, but you are a wee human so I bet you are scared of something..."

Sighing Heizou shrugs and it took quite a while for Itto to even analyse and figure out anything.

Honestly, Heizou's job is still with him himself... no one can take his job. At least the traveller gladly isn't despite having exceptional skills.

"Maybe like me! Is it beans?"

"I'm a human not an Oni..."

Groaning even more Itto pouts a bit. Chuckling at the childish display of the large but kid oni, Heizou professes "Alright Itto, trust me... I'm afraid of somethings but I am not as brave as an oni... does that feel better?"

Oni grins but slightly accepting it. He turns to Heizou and then pokes side. "If I would say you certainly need to eat m-"

"H-hey!" Heizou arcs his back from the touch and backs off, tittering uneasily he states "Itto... space please..."

Curious oni is a dangerous oni, Heizou knew he's skilled to note that about him. Another poke but Heizou prepares by staggering back only to land on his back.

"Heizou? Are you perhaps ticklish?" A look of genuine delight in the discovery.

"H-huh why would you say that I-Itto?" Barely making eye contact.

The oni shrugs but helps him up and slightly offers a playful snicker, "ahh well my compadre you better watchout cause there is someone even scarier than an oni..."

"If you are referring to ghost-"

"Those too but!" He emphasises with a smirk, making Heizou connect the dots before Itto could get to the point. Gently trying to slip away, he stepped back, but Itto caught him without an effort by the arm holding it up as he began his conversation.

"You know who that guy is?"

Gulp, this is not good... if this oni really plans to tickle him, it's the end of his day.

Tactic one, distraction...

"Ah, look at the time... uh... my breaks over Itto... hehe, I better head ba-ahahack!" He poked his ribs now.

Failed... abort! Abort!

"Shikanoin Heizou, you will get a visit from the tickle monster!!" As if he never heard a single word from Heizou since that topic. Fingers immediately dug into his bare sides, beginning his attack properly.

Maybe he should consider a change of clothing since Lumine enjoys poking him here and there.

"Ahaha wahait aha, maybe hehe, I am ticklish buhuhut... ihihits nohohot ahaha feheheeear!" Pushing his hands off slightly averting his eyes to see if there's a crowd watching him struggle to escape a child oni.

Itto's strength is commendable when he pins both his small wrist above his head "Heizou, look here bro, fear of tickles is something everyone has tho some tend to enjoy it...buuut" his fingers lightly tracing his stomach now heizou feels determined to admit he's got a fear of the tickle monster -or rather tickle oni.

"Well you are a detective... might spill a thing or two... right?"

"Aahahahas ihihif a lihihittle tihihickling cahahahan dohoho thahahat!?? Noho, sir!" Heizou's right arm kept pushing him away though with no success.

"Oooooh" mistake, big mistake Heizou realised too late. Too late! He squeaks "NO! Wait!"

Bursts in immediate laughter when Itto tickles his under arms. Itto nods casually "I see, so you are not afraid of the tickle monster making you spill the tea... my bro, if you promise to say the word Onikabuto I'll let you go... but that means you will submit to this little interrogation method..."

Since when did this Oni became soo... evil? Or bad? Heizou was too busy struggling the tickles that are total torture under his arms. He shakes his head "SEHEHERIOUSLY IHIHIHITTOO NOHOHO MORE GAHAHAHAMES... LEHEHET MEHEHE UP!"

"Armpits huh?" Itto snickers enjoying this waaaay more than the victim. Heizou can't even tickle back due to the struggles he wasted. "Well tell me what's the password! Come on little guy... I'll let you go if you say that... hmmm?"

His fingers slowly crawl down, making Heizou giggle but laughing less, as they remain on their sides still tickling. He squirms and yelps "Ack! Ihihittooo! Plehehease!"

"Begging? Alright not so tough now wittle detective... you sure are cute for someone who's not afraid of nuthin'!"

Itto won't shut up. Is this for real? Is Heizou the detective resistant to any torture gonna go submissive against tickling? No way...

Heizou squeals now feeling the fingers crawl up again "AHAHA haha whahahahat thehehe?"

"Incyyy wiiincyyyy Oniii went uuup the ticklish sideees!"

"Nohohohot thahahaaat ohohoho myyy ahahahrchoons!" Heizou blushes furiously. Especially when Itto is singing this version very loudly for the whole town to hear. No! Just yhat alone is intolerable!

"AHAHAH ok ok!!!! Noho more singing!" He panics when the fingers swiftly reached his armpits not even tickling "OK! EEEHEHE IHIHI UHUHUHU OHOHONIKABUTOOO! I SAID IT I SAID IT!"

Itto burst into laughter now hitting his own thigh "Ohooo my! Yohou can't stand thahat can ya!"

"Uhuhunfair... it wahas embarrassing..."

"But you had fuuuun compadre??"

Looking at the excited oni he sighs with a giggle "OK ok... I did,"

"It certainly looked like it"

The familiar windy light voice makes Heizou's blood run cold. He turns to see the anemo vision holder Kazuha.

"K-k-kazuha! What b-brings you he-hear?" Heizou stammers immediately, blushing more at the sight of his former target and now close friend standing there with a fond smile. Smiling even eider Kazuha gestures to the crux fleet. "A trip back to my home again, of course, wanderers may wander, but i also wonder..." leaning forward over Heizou's face."What my dear friend is doing, as a detective that's intriguing..."

Itto applauds with sudden excitement but also getting their attention "My bro your poetic!"

"Why thank you... I see you discovered my friends weakness,"

Itto chuckles "Lil dude be going 'I ain't afraid of nuthin' so I found out he's scared of the tickle oni!"

Kazuha's airy light laughter suddenly draws the wind. "Whyy, he's adorable, isn't he... squealing at his age...?"

"Kaaazuuu, please..." Heizou grabs his hand to stop him, "Itto let's give Kazuha a tour, and we'll introduce you to his heroic actions. " he pulls him away instantly to avoid further vociferous teasing on him.

They were already leading ahead, and Kazuha poked him teasingly about the initial incident, making the detective more embarrassed.

Meanwhile...

"Waaaait..." Itto still ponders and murmurs."Such a familiar nameee, Kazu... kazuha... Kaeda... oh!" and then he runs after them suddenly, recalling"

"Mutso no hitotachi!!!! Waaaaait, I want to fight ya too! Wait, uppp!!!"

(A/N:Sorry about the spelling. I can't remember it... the end, thanks for reading)

#tickle fic #genshin impact #genshin impact tickle #cute #lee!heizou #ler!itto

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