#everything is clustered at the bottom to keep it out of the way

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 9

part 1 | part 8 | ao3

cw: medical emergency

He ditches his car at the top of the street, runs the rest of the way because there are too many people standing around — a small crowd of onlookers clustered at the bottom of the lane, gawking in their sleep shirts and flannels like the world isn’t trying to end for a fourth time. Fifth? He can’t keep track. He can’t even think, numb to everything but the pounding of his shoes against the pavement, the sirens wailing in his ears, the steady prayer in his pulse not her not now not both—

“Mom?” he shouts, voice cracking and raw. “Mom!!”

“It’s not for her.”

There’s a hand against his chest then, heel of a palm pressed to his sternum, and he slams into it like a brick wall. The air burns in his lungs; he can’t focus his eyes. “Wh-what?” he gets out, voice shaking, throat thick. Cold terror drools down his sweaty neck like the breath of a hungry monster. He’s a little kid again, swept up in the mayhem of a crowded mall. Where’s his mom; where’s his mom?

“Your mom’s in my house.” The voice is deep and slow, the hand flexing against his shirt. Fingers splayed. Heavy rings.

“…E-Eddie?” Steve’s vision swims, going yellow and purple then tunneling down to black, deep water filling his ears. Nothing makes any sense. “Munson, what—?”

“Your mom’s in my house,” he repeats like a mantra. Like a lighthouse in the fog, voice rumbling and sure. “She’s safe. She’s fine. You’re hyperventilating; take a breath.”

His breath is still catching quick and high in his throat, little puffs of cold mist. Can you drown in cold air? Can it condense inside your chest?

Eddie grips his shoulder, snaps his fingers in Steve’s face. “Hey. Hey, Steve? Come on, man, look at me. Steve. Look at me.”

Steve meets his gaze like the tide drawn to the moon.

“Deep breath,” he demonstrates, sucking air through an invisible straw, letting his chest and belly swell. Steve copies him until his vision starts to clear, until his heartbeat starts to calm. "That's it," Eddie tells him. "Good. Yeah, there we go."

Some hysterical part in the back of his brain wants to laugh. To start and never stop, just laugh and laugh and laugh until his fucking head explodes.

When he can breathe again, he pants weakly, “What is going on?”

Eddie guides him to a picnic table on the outskirts of the crowd, and they perch on top of it with their feet planted on the bench. The air feels calmer here.

Steve takes another breath.

Eddie points to the single-wide right next to Steve’s. “The wagon’s for your neighbor,” he grimaces in sympathy, one eye squinting shut as he cocks his head at Steve. “Ernie. You know him?”

“Mm.” Ernie Gerwitz. Late 60s, a widower with liver spots and arthritis in both hands. Bad heart, worse drinking habit. Fucking hates Steve’s mom because she backed over his begonias. “Not well.”

They didn’t interact much beyond an occasional neighborly nod, although Steve did once earn the guy’s good graces by yelling at Misty while shooing her off with a rake. (‘Little bitch left me a whole damn weasel last year,’ he’d grumbled as he stooped to pick up the newspaper. ‘Can't shoot her, though, 'cause she scares away the possums.’) And now…

Steve can’t make out much from here, just the shape of a four-man stretcher being carried out the door, strobe light streaks in his vision as the EMTs load up the van.

“Is he…” Steve gulps, clasping his hands between his knees. He doesn’t want to ask this question. The words taste moldy in his mouth. “Is he dead?”

Eddie’s hand shakes a little when he drags it down his cheek. His answer comes on a wobbly sigh, an almost melodic quality to the tension in his voice. “No-o idea, man. Your, uh, your mom, ya know, she— She found him. In, um. In the yard." "Jesus." "Said he was just, like... lying there. In the grass.” Eddie stares off into the distance like he’s seeing it right now; makes a wet clucking sound as his bottom lip quivers. “Thinks it was, a- a heart thing, or something? Shit, I don’t know. She was pretty freaked out when she knocked on my door.”

Steve can't picture it. He hasn’t seen her express a single true emotion since July.

A hesitant hitch of breath, and Eddie chews on his next words, tapping a hand against his thigh. “She’s, uh... she’s… calmer now. Or. At least-”

Steve rolls his eyes, knows exactly where this is going. Eddie tries again: “I mean, she seemed like-”

“Like a fucking zombie?” Steve supplies.

“Yeah,” Eddie huffs, a nervous laugh of relief. You said it, man, not me. There’s something serious in his gaze, something curious and searching.

Something almost kind. Steve shrinks away from it like a vampire in the sun. Go on, he wants to say, ask about the fucking pills. Wants to goad him into a fight, some mean, sharp thing inside him itching to see someone else bleed.

Steve bites his tongue until he tastes metallic tang. Copper covering mildew; fresh bloom coating decay. He swallows hard, lets them both slide down his throat — blood and ghosts, life and death. The River Styx must taste like pennies.

The siren starts again, and Eddie groans and hangs his head. “Christ," he murmurs to the dirt, “Wayne’s gonna be so bummed.”

They both watch in silence as the ambulance goes by.

—

part 10

okay same deal tagging whoever commented yesterday (if your settings will let me) you’re all delightful tysm 😘 @paintsplatteredandimperfect @thefreakandthehair @slutforcoffein @manda-panda-monium @munsonfamilybandalso @aliea82 @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple @lololol-1234 @hotluncheddie @pennyplainknits @disrespectedgoatman @carolinachickadee @insideiscold @acedorerryn @anne-bennett-cosplayer @violetsteve my actual wife blessings upon your house @lighthousebeams @steves-strapcollection @sirsnacksalot @stevesbipanic @slowandsteddie @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @so-get-this-sammy @annabanannabeth @runninriot @cuips-not-cute @a-little-unsteddie @envyadams-vs-me @ppunkpuppyy if i forgot anyone i’m sorry i am very sleep deprived

#trailer park steve au #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #st fic #my writing #my fic

[ashtxrie]

i got you (jake)

PAIR. high school! bf! jake x gn! reader GENRE. hurt/comfort, jake is an academic weapon WORD COUNT. 0.6k WARNINGS. math, anxiety, ap season, academics in general NOTES. ap season is making me lose my mind in every way possible but if jake tutored i bet i would get a 5 IN WHICH: with all hope of an academic comeback gone, jake swears to personally help you clutch up your gradebook, no matter what.

the calculus test stares up at you, the numbers you had written the week before blending into incessant scribbles that pound at your head and sting at your eyes. red marks plague your work and the crimson ink slashes at the harsh white, making the numerals bleed. you flip the exam over, quickly rolling it up into a scroll and stuffing it into your bag.

a 68 percent. you had gotten a 68 on the test that you had calculated and count on to change your grade for the better. you had failed. 

biting your lip, you walk out of the nearly empty classroom, your heart sinking into your gut.  

everything was so much.

from studying for the AP exams coming up in less than two months to frantically memorizing all the polyatomic ion formulas for chemistry-- you were spent. you had thought you had done fine, you had thought that you had this one in the bag.  

obviously not. 

the door to the cafeteria approaches to your left and you walk towards it, feeling sharp jabs in your abdomen from the anxiety. 

“please let it be almost empty,” you whisper, pushing the door open and walking through the clusters of students.

at your usual table, your boyfriend jake sits with his computer, pencil in hand. probably doing the physics bonus problems, for fun— under normal circumstances, you would’ve laughed at him. he sees you in the corner of his peripheral and smiles.  

“hey,” jake scoots to the left of the bench and offers you the seat. his smile falters a bit when he sees your face, your eyes glassy and red. 

“hey,” you mutter, your voice constricted. you were having trouble keeping the tears in and you feared that you would burst at any given moment. you keep your head down and try to avoid his gaze.

jake stares at you, his brown eyes focusing on your bent head and trembling bottom lip.  “hey,” he says again, his voice soothing and soft.  “what’s the matter?”

you had no appetite, but you found yourself walking past the table, toward the lunch line. jake trailed behind you. cautiously, as if you’d run away at any moment. 

his hand grabs onto yours and he pulls on your fingertips lightly.  “[name],” he pushes, his hand warm to the touch.

you shake your head and turn back to face him, your eyes beginning to water. “i– i,” you stammer, your voice shaking and cracking as you struggled to remain calm, “i’m having a really rough day.” your words trigger something inside of yourself and a tear slides it’s way down your face, trickling down your cheek and sliding off your chin onto your shoes. 

you walk towards jake who meets you halfway, his arms wrapping around you tightly. you rest your head in the crook of his neck and let the tears fall from your eyes. your body wracks up and down, unable to control itself. 

jake’s hand moves up and down the small of your back.  “it’s going to be okay,” he says in your ear.

“i got a sixty eight in calc,” you manage, your voice coming out in teary whispers. “it’s so bad... i tried so hard for this. i basically failed.”

jake shakes his head. “no. no [name].” he takes his hand and moves a strand of hair behind your ears. “you are not a failure. tell you what, i’ll help you with math from now on, and we are going to get you a 100 on the next test. sound good?”

you sniff and nod, your head resting on his shoulder. “thank you.”

jake nods and smiles, pressing a soft kiss on your forehead. “anytime.”

#enhypen #enhypen fluff #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen blurbs #enhypen fic #enhypen jake #jake sim #sim jaeyun #jake x reader #jake imagines #jake fluff #jake fic #jake drabbles #ashtxrie #— ash writes!

[rolling-storm-writing]

A Night Alone: John Price x Top!Mreader

A/N: When the rest of the 141 is out goofing off it gives you and Price a much-needed night alone.

(I literally wrote this in an hour and I’ve never written for this man so all comments and critiques are welcome!!)

>>> 18+  MINORS DNI!!!

      Alone time was a hard thing to come by one base, something was always happening and there was never any true peace to be found.  Sure you could get some nearby apartment or a home out somewhere but it wouldn’t come close to living with your boys.  You joined the 141 on a temporary assignment four years ago, and now you were practically stuck with this cluster fuck of a group.

In that time you managed to spark a romance with a certain captain and now neither of you could get enough of the other.  Price wasn’t a man to keep secrets but somehow no one managed to notice the relationship between you and him.  For a long time he thought he’d never find that special someone until you came to swoop him off his feet, he wasn’t really into other men but was certainly into you.

Your tall stature, beautiful smile, and funny personality made you hard to ignore.  And he fell for you harder than he’d care to admit and he certainly was happy for it.  All of that left you becoming the second father of the 141 and all of the craziness that came with it.  

So when the power went out and all the food in the fridge spoiled it was you and Price that went out to buy some more food.  Everyone else elected to go spend a day or two in town leaving you and your sweet captain more than enough time alone together.  “Pulp or no pulp?” he asked, holding up the two cartons of orange juice.  You were much too focused on him to hear what he said, your eyes preferring to linger on his biceps that looked phenomenal in your gray tank top.  Your id tags hanging right between those beautiful pecs and he was even wearing your favorite sweats that left little to the imagination… 

You were quickly knocked out of your trance went he pressed the cold carton on your arm, “you eye fucking me in the middle of the store-”  he grumbled as you swatted the cold juice away.  “You look good, what can I say,” the humor in your voice soon enough brought a smile to his face as he shook away the blush across his cheeks.  You were quick to follow after him as the two of you continued shopping, his lustful glances obvious as he watched you reach the loaf of bread on the high shelf just above him.

The ride back to base wasn’t any better as your passenger prince rubbed his palm along your thigh the whole car ride back to base.  Even as you carried the groceries in he made it a point to watch you with a cigar in hand and his tea in the other.  “How hot do I look right now?” you asked him as Price looked at you over his cup, “real good, you look real good baby…”

Maybe it was the way he looked at you from the couch or how you took a drag from his cigar that set everything off. Price was in your arms, legs wrapped around your waist as you hoisted him up into the air, hands tangled in your hair, and his lips hungrily capturing yours.  Eventually, you both stumble into your room and he’s quick to push you onto the bed, fingers eagerly working the buttons of your trousers open.

He looks absolutely beautiful on his knees, those beautiful eyes staring right back at you “so beautiful” you whisper to him.  No matter how many times Price would never grow tired of watching your now hard cock spring up.  You shuttered at the cold hair hitting it but Price just chuckled, “I gotcha hun” he moaned, licking his lips as he eyed the feast in front of him.

He leaned forward, opening his mouth and sticking his tongue out taking the whole length down his throat.  He was good at this, you couldn’t deny that.  A satisfied moan escaped you as Price’s mouth bottomed out.  Your hand immediately found his head, tugging on the short strands of hair as he swallowed you whole.  His pink lips stretched beautifully around your fat cock as you watched him through hooded lids.  

His hands were firmly on your thighs pushing himself up and down on your cock, the sounds of his wet mouth and your cock filled the room.  Your low moans and his ever-pleased ones traveled through your ears as his tongue traveled around your shaft and came back up to the tip.  Price continued this agonizing pace for well over five minutes, your hips bucking up into his mouth again and again causing that sweet pleasure. 

“Fuck, princess. Look at you,” you moaned as you felt that growing coil in your abdomen.  He pulled off for a moment as you pulled him in for a quick kiss, you could taste yourself on his tongue before you two parted.  The pre-cum in his bear and the spit that dribbled down his chin weren't missed by you either.  “All for you sweetheart” his voice was a bit hoarse and his jaw ached a bit but he was gonna milk this for all you were worth.

He took your cock into his hand and smiled gently, taking the head into his mouth, his tongue out as your pre-cum decorated it.  Oh, how he loved the taste of you as he encouraged more of that sweet taste to fill his mouth,  to him there was nothing sweeter.

Just the thought of that fat cock inside him had Price in a tight knot.  “You prep yourself…?” you asked as he gave a slow nod to you.  Standing up he took his time shedding his clothes, his cock heavy and hard between his legs as you watched him hungrily.  You couldn’t help the way this man made you feel, the way his back arched, and how good that silver plug looked buried inside him.

The round globes of his ass were perfect under your large hands as you pulled the silver jewelry from inside him.  Your hot breath ghosted against his ear and your hips thrust harshly against his ass.  His moans were loud as he felt your hard cock pressing against his puckered rim.  “Please!” Price finally begged as your hands gripped his hips ever so tightly and your lips kissed and nipped at his neck and shoulders.  That’s another thing he loved about you, just how big you were and how you practically engulfed him.  

“I’m gonna fill you nice and good, princess” you assured him. A loud groan left his lips as your cock pushed his rim, the head slowly pushing inside.  He buried his face in the sheets and tried to quiet his moans as you slowly pushed inside.  No matter how many times you both fucked, Price was always surprised by just how big your dick was.  You’d ruined him for anyone else and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Soon enough you bottomed out, balls resting on his ass as Price took a few moments to catch his breath.  Your soft kisses and gentle caressing always made him feel better as he craned his neck to kiss you.  He could care less how he looked, bent over with a cock drilled into him, face a flustered mess, and his dick spilling pre-cum all over your freshly washed sheets.  “Baby…” he whined, his hips moving against yours as you kissed him, “ready?” you mumbled as he nodded against you.  

Your lovemaking wasn’t always gentle by any means and today wasn't any different, you held his hips almost tight enough to bruise just like he loved.  You slowly pulled out so only the head of your cock was left inside, his rim catching beautifully on the head as you memorized the pretty sight.  You thrust back inside with all your strength setting a brutal pace.  Price’s body was pushed into the mattress as you fucked into him, back arched and ass up as he saw stars.  Most importantly he knew he was going to be sore for a few days after all this.

He loved the way you just let him let go and take what you gave him.  He couldn’t care less about how he sounded as his whimpers and cries filled the room.  Your thrust forced him further and further into the bedding, his legs spreading further and further, hands digging into the sheets as you pounded into him.  Each thrust seemed to knock the breath out of him, he couldn’t moan the way he wanted to, his voice already hoarse and heavy.  

All Price could do was hold onto the sheets and hope he could walk straight after all this.  

He couldn’t move an inch as he took every single powerful thrust, face buried in the sheet with tears running down his face.  The pleasure grew and grew as this brutal pace kept up. Every hard thrust landed on his prostate just abusing the poor bundles of nerves.  Price wasn’t gonna last much longer as his cock throbbed painfully.  Even as your thrusts grew more and more erratic you didn’t let up for a moment.

Your name was on his lips as he came, the blissful release was earth-shattering as you fucked him through it.  Your release was moments away and with a few more thrusts you shoved your cock as deep as you could inside.  Hot cum painted his insides filling his abused hole, your tiny thrusts only enhancing things as you fucked it deeper into him.   Price swore you had enough cum to fill a bucket, your cum filling his ass.  Even as it leaked out of his hole and down his thighs you were still cumming.

“You okay baby?” you asked after a moment pulling out of him and watching as Price rolled over onto his back.  His chest was heaving as he lay there in a blissful daze.  “Yeah… I’m okay” he said after a moment as you laid down next to him, pulling him closer. Price cuddled up and got comfortable.  The two of you could clean up later after all.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ending Note: I haven't wrote anything like this in so long- I just need some bottom Price for the life of me.  Hope yall enjoy and if you have any suggestion for future works feel free to let me know! <3

#cod x male reader #cod x reader #cod mw22 #john price #john price x male reader #john price x reader #Bottom John Price #smut #captian price #141 #141 x reader #male reader #top male reader #gender nuetral reader

[lilacmingi]

POLYJUICE POTION

My works are 14+ ONLY. If you’re under 14 DO NOT interact with me or any of my works

Pairing: Ravenclaw!Hongjoong x Ravenclaw!fem reader

Word count: 2,800

Note: These Hogwarts imagines are from my Wattpad from 2022, so keep in mind that there will not be any continuations or extra parts. Imagines for the other members will be posted in the following weeks!

"Man, I didn't study." San dropped his head onto the dining hall table with a soft thump.

"Again." Hongjoong added, causing the Slytherin to pout in response.

You chuckled, watching the two.

"You never study, San." Hongjoong pointed out.

"He's right." You added.

"I do sometimes." San argued.

"Not this time."

San frowned. "What am I gonna do? I have a herbology test in fifteen minutes and my grades are horrible."

"Cram, I guess." Hongjoong shrugged.

"You know, some people do better when they cram last minute." You supplied, trying to cheer your close friend up a little.

"I'm doomed either way." The Slytherin dropped his head in defeat.

"Don't be like that." Hongjoong told him.

"Hongjoong is right. If you think about it, a little studying is better than no studying at all."

"She has a point." Your fellow Ravenclaw agreed.

"Well, I'd love to stay here and see where this goes, but I have a transfiguration class to get to. Good luck, San."

"Yeah." He grumbled discouragingly.

"See you after potions, Hongjoong." You waved, walking off to class.

You were actually hoping to talk to San without Hongjoong around, but seeing as your poor Slytherin friend was in a predicament, and not alone, you chose to wait and chat later.

Once you left the dining hall, San continued to mope, muttering to himself about how he was going to totally fail.

"Wait. I got it!" San lifted his head, his eyes brightening as an idea popped into his mind. "You have a free period, right Hongjoong?"

"Yes."

"Could you do me a favor?"

"That depends."

"Can you use a Polyjuice potion and take my herbology test for me?"

Hongjoong's eyes widened at the absurd idea.

"You want me to pretend to be you?"

San nodded vigorously with hopeful eyes.

"No way." The Ravenclaw shook his head.

"Please?"

"No. Do you know how hard it'll be to get it done in time?"

"I have everything." He quickly supplied.

Hongjoong narrowed his eyes in speculation.

San clasped his hands together, his bottom lip stuck out in a pout as he begged the older wizard. "Hongjoong, please. Just this once and I'll never ever ask again."

"What do I get in return?" He quirked a brow, his arms crossed expectantly over his chest.

"I'll buy you whatever you want from Honeydukes."

"Whatever I want?"

"Whatever you want."

"Alright. Deal."

San and Hongjoong left the dining hall and made their way down the long corridors of the school, the younger Hogwarts student practically vibrating with excitement. He—Hongjoong was totally going to ace this test for him. He swears he'll study next time, promising himself to make an attempt to do better with his academic work.

"Just let me go into my dormitory and get the stuff. I'll be out before you can say Honeydukes."

Hongjoong hated how chipper San was about this situation. He just gets to hide out while Hongjoong does the dirty work. It hardly seems fair. At least he would be getting sweets out of this deal. Hongjoong smiled at the thought, practically tasting the Cauldron Cake and Fizzing Whizbees.

San returned with a small burlap bag clutched in his hand and a small cauldron hidden under his robes, gesturing for the two to make their way to the bathrooms. Maneuvering around the many students lingering in the hallway, San and Hongjoong snuck off to the boys restrooms to prepare the potion.

"You know once finals roll around you can't cheat, right? They charm the writing quills and parchment." Hongjoong mentioned as he dropped in a small cluster of knotgrass, watching it melt into the thick liquid inside the cauldron.

"I know, I know." San muttered, playing with a loose string on his robes.

The oldest stirred the substance that began to slowly bubble and thicken, tossing in the last few ingredients.

"Ugh. That smells awful." San commented as he pinched his nose.

"You're not the one that has to drink it." Hongjoong pointed out bitterly. "Now come here."

San moved closer to the Ravenclaw who grabbed a strand of his hair, yanking it from his head.

"Ouch!" He whimpered, rubbing his scalp.

"Payback." Hongjoong commented, dropping the wisp into the roiling substance.

Plucking one measly hair from San's head wasn't nearly the amount of payback he deserved for putting Hongjoong in this situation, but it was enough for the moment. Hongjoong would decide if his younger friend needed further punishment after this situation plays out. If all goes well, then all San lost was a strand of hair.

"You're doing me a huge favor." San told his friend, noticing the bitter expression etched on his face. "I promise I'll study more."

"You'd better." Muttered Hongjoong as he stared at the icky substance in the ladle, his stomach churning in response. "Remember, you owe me." He reminded the Slytherin.

"Of course." San nodded.

And with that, Hongjoong downed the mixture, cringing immediately at the taste. He then started coughing, feeling the potion take effect.

After a few agonizing moments, he stumbled over to the bathroom mirror to see if the concoction worked the way it was supposed to. Polyjuice potions can sometimes go awry if you don't pay attention to what you're putting in it.

"Heyyy, you look handsome." San grinned at Hongjoong's reflection, which now showed an exact replica of the dark-haired and dimpled wizard.

Hongjoong glared at San through the mirror, clearly unamused by his antics. His cheeky grin fell from his face. It was only then that he realized how much time was left for Hongjoong to get to class.

"You have to hurry. You've got less than five minutes." He shoved a small satchel into the Ravenclaw's chest. "Here's all my stuff."

"Yeah, yeah." Hongjoong waved San off, hurrying out of the bathroom.

The Ravenclaw disguised as a Slytherin grumbled to himself, suddenly regretting doing this "favor" for his friend.

It's completely foolish.

Why did he let himself be swayed by sweets?

Stepping into San's herbology class, Hongjoong moved towards a seat near the back of the room. This wasn't his first time using a Polyjuice potion. He had done so for practice in potions class a year prior, but he had never used it for real life circumstances such as this one. What if someone tried to talk to him? He would have to pretend to be San. What would San even say? Probably something stupid.

Please don't let anyone try and talk to me.

He wished you were there. You'd help calm him down and tell him everything would be okay. No. You would have turned the whole idea down in an instant. If San had brought up this half-baked idea moments earlier while you were still in the dining hall, you would have shut him down.

"No way is Hongjoong going to do that. San, you're my friend, but you've gotta tough this one out. Plus, it's just one test."

That's what he imagined you would say.

"Alright class, get your quills and parchment ready. The quiz is about to start."

Letting out a long, drawn-out sigh, Hongjoong retrieved the items from San's satchel and began the test.

An hour and a half later, class had ended, the rather stressed Ravenclaw feeling like he could breathe a sigh of relief. The test wasn't all that difficult. He was a year above San, so he remembered some of the material from when he had taken herbology his sixth year. At the very least, he got San a high B, which was probably much better than the forgetful Slytherin could have done.

Hongjoong stepped out of the classroom, planning to make a beeline for the bathrooms before the potion wore off. He zipped past students, weaving his way through the flurry of witches and wizards. When the sign for the boys' bathroom was in his line of sight, he picked up his pace, wanting to get there quickly. Until...

"San!"

You had just gotten out of your potions class that let out a little early for the day. Spotting a familiar head of dark hair hurrying down the hall, you called out to him, finally having found the opportunity to speak to San alone.

"There you are." You ran over to him.

"Hey, Y/n." He greeted with a smile, seeming a little off.

"How'd your test go?"

"I think I did alright." He responded.

"That's good to hear. Cramming works sometimes." You gave him a light slap on the back. "Listen, I really wanted to talk to you earlier, but Hongjoong was around so I couldn't. Do you have time?"

This caught his attention.

Something you couldn't say around him? Was there something you and San knew that he didn't?

"Of course. What is it?"

He could see you were a bit nervous, maybe even a little hesitant, but waited for you to speak.

"I'm finally gonna confess to him."

"San's" eyes widened upon hearing that as it clicked into place instantly.

"To Hongjoong?" He questioned, just to make things a bit clearer.

"Yes, to Hongjoong. Why do you seem so surprised? You know I've been crushing on him for two years."

"Two—" He paused, clearing his throat in an attempt to gather himself. "Y-Yeah. Of course."

Your face fell a bit in realization.

"Oh. You're not surprised... you think it's a bad idea. Don't you?"

"No!" He spoke up abruptly, being a bit louder than he intended. "I mean... I think you should go for it."

"Really?"

"Yes. Absolutely."

You chuckled. "You're a bit enthusiastic about it. It's almost like you know he'll say yes or something." Your expression was then replaced with horror. "You didn't say anything to him, did you?"

"No. I didn't. I just have a feeling that he probably feels the same as you. I'm a guy. We know these things about each other."

He cringed internally at that last part, but it seemed like something San would say, so he went with it.

"Ah." You nodded, taking in deep breath. "Okay. Well, if you see Hongjoong, could you tell him to meet me at the Marble Staircase Tower on the top floor, you know, the one that overlooks the Quad?"

"Yes! I'll be sure to tell him."

"Thank you. I'm so nervous."

"You'll do f—" Hongjoong had reached a hand out to place on you shoulder, pausing when he saw his polished pinkie.

The potion was beginning to wear off. He needed to get out of there fast.

Noticing the expression on "San's" face, you spoke up, asking if he was alright.

"I'm fine! Good luck with Hongjoong. I have to go."

You didn't have time to reply as San hurried off, bumping into people as he headed down the corridor.

"Choi San!" Hongjoong shouted, storming into the bathroom.

The wizard in question jumped in response to his name being called so loudly. Stepping out from a stall, he was met with Hongjoong, who seemed to have already returned to normal.

"Ah. You're done. How did it—" He couldn't even finish his sentence for Hongjoong blowing up.

"Y/n has had a crush on me for two years and you didn't say anything?" He exploded.

San's eyes became wide before he tilted his head in confusion.

"How did you know?"

"She stopped me in the hallway to tell me she was finally going to confess. She thought I was you."

San's mouth formed an O shape as he realized the cat had been let out of the bag.

"I can't believe you didn't say anything." Hongjoong went on.

"I promised her I wouldn't. How would you feel if someone told your crush you liked them and they didn't feel the same?"

"San, that's the issue. I like her."

The Slytherin's eyes widened in surprise.

"How was I supposed to know?"

Hongjoong sighed, realizing he had no reason to be upset. "You weren't, because I never said anything."

"Well, she said she was going to confess to you. Did she tell you anything else?" San asked.

"She wants me to meet her at the Marble Staircase Tower."

The Slytherin's jaw dropped.

"Then, what are you doing standing here? You have to go meet her." He rushed.

"But... what would I say?"

"Just act casual. Think about it as if you don't know why she wants to meet with you."

"But I do know why she wants to meet with me."

"Pretend you don't." With one, final shove, San pushed Hongjoong out of the bathroom. "Now, go get your girl, loverboy!"

"San!" He whisper yelled.

"Go! Go!"

Hongjoong sighed and started down the corridor, heading in the direction of the Marble Staircase Tower, his heart thumping rapidly in his chest.

By the time he arrived at the bottom of the tower steps, he was out of breath, but his determination overpowered his exhaustion as he continued on. He hurried up the stairs, sometimes skipping one in an attempt to reach the top faster.

The opening for the highest floor came into view and as Hongjoong reached the top, he spotted you waiting for him, fiddling anxiously with the sleeves of your robe. His heart fluttered nervously as he approached you.

"Y/n?"

You turned, your face lighting up at the sight of him. He wouldn't have noticed this had he not known your feelings for him.

"Hongjoong. You made it."

"Of course I did. What did you want to see me for?"

He could see the way your shoulders raised as you took in a deep breath in preparation for what you were about to say.

"There's something important I want to say to you before I chicken out." Your eyes met his, as if to get confirmation to continue.

"Yes. Anything. Tell me anything." He nodded, his round eyes watching you with anticipation, waiting to hear your confession fall from your pretty lips.

"Hongjoong, I've had a crush on you for two years. I know this is abrupt and you probably don't feel th—"

"I like you too." He cut you off.

"Wh-" You paused. "What?"

"I have a confession too. It wasn't San you talked to in the hallway."

Your expression dropped immediately.

"San asked me to take his test for him and I agreed."

"Polyjuice potion." You muttered under your breath as everything clicked into place.

"Right."

"So, I practically confessed to you right there." It was a question, but it came out as more of a statement.

Hongjoong nodded wordlessly, confirming your fears. But wait... he said he liked you too, did he not? You were too busy being surprised that Hongjoong used a Polyjuice potion to pose as San that you completely glossed over his confession.

"You said you liked me too?" You asked.

"I do. A lot."

He bravely took a step forward, his eyes briefly flicking down to your lips. The feeling of his palm brushing against your cheek as he cupped it made you realize what was about to happen, and you most certainly weren't against it. You watched with bated breath as Hongjoong inched closer to you, the space between your faces diminishing until you could feel his lips ghost against your own. You didn't wait for him to initiate the kiss, instead you leaned forward, being the one to close the sliver of space that was between your mouths.

Hongjoong's eyes fluttered closed at the contact, his hand that cupped your cheek moved to the back of your neck to pull you in closer, needing more of you.

Your body felt like it was on fire, as if someone had cast an incendio spell on you. Your fellow Ravenclaw was feeling very similar, his body rushing with warmth as he held your bodies flush against each other. Your fingers clung to the collar of his robe, tugging in an almost desperate manner as you pressed your mouth closer to his, a blissful sigh escaping you. It didn't take long for things to get heated, the both of you kissing each other with such ferocity that you wondered if anyone could hear you.

As much as he didn't want to, Hongjoong pulled away, both of you huffing breathlessly. You glanced up at him with half-lidded eyes, your brain still foggy from such an intense kiss.

"I hate to put a stop to this, but we've got a transfiguration class in seven minutes." He mentioned hoarsely.

You groaned in disappointment, dropping your head onto his shoulder. "I totally forgot."

"We can always continue in the Ravenclaw common room after classes are over."

You lifted your head at that and Hongjoong could see a glam in your eye that made him chuckle.

"We should go." He mentioned, smoothing your hair out. "Don't want to be late."

Seonghwa ⟡ Yunho ⟡ Yeosang ⟡ San ⟡ Mingi ⟡ Wooyoung ⟡ Jongho

Masterlist ᝰ — enjoyed this imagine? reblogs & comments are very much appreciated!

DO NOT steal, plagiarize, copy, repost, alter, or translate my works in any way

🏷 @h3arteyes4mingi @weird-bookworm @poppy2007 @parkjennykim @evidive @mxlly143 @lizzymizzy-blogg @minhanbyeol @dinossaurz

#hongjoong x reader #hongjoong x you #hongjoong x y/n #kim hongjoong x reader #kim hongjoong x you #kim hongjoong x y/n #ateez imagines #hongjoong imagines #hongjoong oneshot #ateez scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop oneshots #kpop scenarios #hogwarts au #ateez hogwarts au

[twst-drabbles]

Trapped in a Fish's Eye 4

Summary: "Experiment all you like with that fruit fly," you gave a wave and a smile, as though Jade was simply going shopping, "Just keep my warnings in mind, alright?"

(Over 1500 words on this piece. I, uh, I had fun with this one. There be body horror, and some gore. And Jade making himself suffer. And him crying. I had a lot of fun.)

It started off as a jar with a bug. A simple fruit fly that managed to make it's way in here via the lapels of a random Octavinelle student. Normally Jade would be quick to get rid of it, bugs make a poor sight in any place they're not meant to be, but to the bug's misfortune, Jade was very much bored.

Well, he will kill it eventually, but he wanted to do something with it first.

He wanted to expose it to the light, to the gaze that casts itself upon this dorm. After all, there are many, many questions running around Jade's head now that he was deprived of everything else that lay outside.

Questions such as: is it only people such as he, of similar intelligence that are affected? Is this madness of mind and flesh reserved for those inside? Or does any creature count? Do you need to make eye contact with it? And if eye contact is needed, can one resist it?

Such questions can't possibly be answered with just one bug, but it'll at least give him something.

Jade didn't dare touch the light, he used a pair of tongs instead to move a loose piece of wall paper. It was a hole he discovered by accident, a testament of the age of this dorm, and the cheapness of Headmage Crowley.

The bug, trapped in a jar, was flying as it always does. It bumped against the glass, desperate to search for a way out, to locate the food it was dragged away from. The soft blue light was a mere slice upon the glass, so thin even a child's eyes would be unable to focus on it.

But it was enough. It landed on the bug, a line that landed right on its red eyes.

It stopped flying. It fell, as though in reverence, as though whatever was in that light ripped out every little thought that made it a fly.

Jade watched it crawl up the jar, back to the place where the light cut into its eyes.

Its wings shriveled up and fell into a scattering of dust, as though they were held over an open flame. Then its abdomen swelled. It grew and grew, with something writhing and cracking its harder outer shell before it simply… popped.

Its head stayed small, with limbs to match, but the rest of it. There were falling fish scales, long and rubbery fins that moved through the jar with a grace that should not exist in a fly. The strings of insect flesh, and what was once its organs shivered, seized, then twisted themselves until they were new and hairy insect legs. In the innermost section of this bloated fly, Jade saw a cluster of white, milky eyes, like the eggs of a squid. Their pupils didn't focus on him. In fact, they appear to be unable to focus on anything.

Jade closed the gap in the wall. Only then did the fly collapse to the bottom of the jar, unable to withstand its new weight.

Jade was slow to pour in the acid inside the glass jar. A trickle, sometimes pattering out to mere drops, but they always meet the flesh of the deformed and engorged insect with a spitting sizzle. The creature squirmed and screamed. It attempted to use its many new legs to crawl out, to escape from this pain, but it's as if it's fighting a battle with itself. One side of the violet bulbous creature would crawl up the jar, the other would dig itself further into the jar.

Once enough acid melted through it's pulsing, hairy body, it successfully ripped itself in two.

"Wow, you really like to keep everything dark in here don't ya, Jade? Why not get some light in this place? At least I'll be able to see what you're doing."

Jade can practically imagine Floyd leaning against the door, peering into the darkness that both he and his sibling can so easily see through. Jade doesn't need to turn around, nor does Floyd need the lights. They both know each other just the slightest bit too well.

"There's no need," Jade waved him off, "Nothing more than a boorish hobby for someone such as me. There's nothing interesting about it."

Jade heard a single footstep and he dumped all the acid into the jar. Whatever screams this creature was capable of were drowned and melted down. It became nothing more than bits of dissolved mush.

So, even this thing, no longer a fly, can become like this.

Jade thought he saw something twitching, perhaps some latent energy inside those numerous limbs, and pressed to the bottom of the jar with a stirring rod.

"That's real gross," Floyd said with a grin, resting his head on the table Jade was at, "What were you playing with this time? Another bug?"

"The same bug."

The fruit fly with one wing smaller than the other and missing it's left back-most leg. The one that has a preference for the sweet and sticky residue left behind by soda cans and jam jars. The same fly who's residues Jade leaves with you to bring back, over and over again by means he's still unable to peek or drag out of you.

"Hmm, that's boring." Floyd sighed out, deflating on the table. Jade felt his urge to knock over the glass jar of acid, so he moved it away and held it against him.

"I told you," Jade said, lightly swishing the little bits around the solution, "A boring hobby for a very bored person."

Jade can't very well use the fishes inside that tank, as Azul paid a pretty penny for those visual delights, and rats simply do not exist here. A fly is all Jade can work with, all he can play with.

Even though the results are always the same.

It's as they both say, "It's boring." A static numbness over the brain. Irritating and truly unwanted.

"I hope you have a good day," Jade said as he walked away.

"You try and have a good one too, Jade," Floyd called after him but didn't move from the table. Jade guesses he, too, was being pulled under the dregs.

He and everyone else.

Isn't it selfish of him, to let this bug have all the fun? It gets to experience a cycle that Jade is unable to. It gets to live and gaze into whatever is outside, it gets to die by his hand, only for its remains to eventually land right back to yours.

To start all over, incapable of remembering anything other then its want for all things sweet, sticky and rotting.

It's lucky, Jade thinks, that boredom is something it can never grasp. And if it was once capable of it, well, it's always erased by the end. Lucky, lucky, lucky thing.

A simplistic existence that's made to only want for food. Its fear does not resemble his own. Its wants do not contain facets like his does. It is a fly. To be trapped here, with the rest of the dorm students, must be heaven for it. It has all the leftovers it could want. It does not have to worry about the weather.

And to think, not even its simple life and simple instincts are enough to turn away from the monster's gaze.

Was it truly that fascinating? So much so that its need to escape and eat became secondary? That, in its need to continue looking and whatever was in that crack, it let its body grow, burst and transform?

Was it not agonizing?

Ah, but what would a fly know?

It can't think like him, and it can't suffer like him.

It can't know like him.

…it can't comprehend nor tell him anything. Not anymore…

The jar with the fly was tossed to the side.

Jade knelt before the opening and dug his fingers in.

…

… oh.

No wonder. How silly of me, to not know why I was so jealous of a mere bug. After all…

I've done this all before. And I just wanted to return to it.

The flesh hidden under his clothes bloomed forth, scales and slime falling and splashing. His heart still beat, his veins still pulsed, and the boredom…

The boredom was gone, and all that was left was pure agony.

"Well, look at you," you didn't have to exit your temporary room at all, Jade came right to you, "You're quite the sight."

A hand, now a claw, swiped right past you and tore at your bed sheets. Jade gripped them tight and dragged the rest of his transformed body into the room. Exhaustion was impossible to keep at bay. Jade collapsed his head right into your lap.

He was back to sea flowing self, skin a vibrant and slimy green, ears now fins, and hands sizable claws.

But, like the fly in that jar, everything below was swollen and split open. Behind him, a trail of fish scales. The lingering strings of flesh fused to together to make more tails and fins. Inside the layers of his flesh, you can see pulsing eyes.

And how sweet, they're all gazing right at you.

Jade lifted his head, now larger than your torso. You looked to him just as you heard sniff and a gulp. You saw red rimmed eyes. Tears fell in dollops on your legs.

Jade opened his mouth, but what came out wasn't words. Only groans. His voice struggled to push past all the things that made him like this. Low, almost guttural, as though coming from the deepest reaches of the sea.

You smiled.

"It's so cute," you said, caressing a hand on his cheek, "How you always come back to me in this state."

He leaned in and pressed his hand against yours, just to keep you from pulling away.

"And it's so cute," with your other hand, you pressed a finger against his forehead, "that you keep doing this to yourself. Do you like being in agony just so I can comfort you? How silly of you, little eel."

Jade shuddered, his face pinching up as more tears flowed out of him. Soon, the rest of his eyes join, and now there's a puddle for you to worry about later.

Well, that doesn't matter, for now.

You squished his cheeks and kissed his nose. "Aren't you glad that I'm here. There's nothing to worry about. Just go to sleep for me, alright?"

Simply let that consciousness dissolve in the darkness of sleep, of the solution of dreams. You'll be there to bring him right back to how he was.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst-drabbles #drabble #ask #octavinelle #jade #jade leech #trapped in a fish's eye #eldritch au #reader insert

[shesjustanothergeek]

His Love

|Aegon II Targaryen x Fem!Reader|

Part Fourteen

Master List of Series

Summary: Being a bastard born in the slums of Flea Bottom was all you were known for. Not the streak of white you had in your dark hair, the violet ring around your pupils, or how your sharp tongue and skills with the blade resembled your father, Daemon Targaryen. You were just a bastard, nothing more, but to him, to Aegon Targaryen, you were everything. You were his love.

Author's Note: I'm so sorry for the late update. Life has been pretty stressful these past three weeks, but not as bad as before. I finally finished all the required exams to become licensed in what I do, and now I have to wait for the results. I'll probably be starting a job in the coming months, so I might have to go back to uploading every two weeks like before. I'll keep y'all updated. Also, while researching, I realized this story has a cannon time frame. It's 127 AC to 129 AC, so everyone has a definite age. You're welcome. :)

Chapter Warnings: Period accurate sexism. 

"He was pointing at the moon, but I was looking at his hand." - Richard Silken, The Worm King's Lullaby.

It was two days before you woke. The stars were sparkling in an endless sea of the night sky, the waning moon reflecting a mirror image of itself over Blackwater Bay. You were surprised no one had come to wake you. It was rude for a guest to sleep the days away in someone's home, but you were exhausted.

So much had happened when you arrived at Kings Landing, resurfacing old memories you desperately pushed down. The pain was too great to sift through, tears heating your eyes whenever you thought of them. It was easier to ignore your hurt and squash it into a hardened cluster of untouched emotions, constantly pushing it deeper and deeper until it cracked from the pressure, exposing it raw.

You went to the great wardrobe on the other side of the guest chambers, wrapping a robe around your shoulders as you headed to the balcony. The small ship with your belongings arrived a few hours after you did, and everything was neatly organized into its designated place as if you had lived there your whole life. You supposed a part of you did, a piece never entirely leaving the haunting red rock walls.

There was a thickness in the air. The heavy humidity clung to your skin, making you feel sticky and damp, sweat accumulating in the warmer parts of your body even with your thin nightgown. Your room was on the upper levels of the palace, overlooking the never-ending labyrinth of sandstone and mudbrick houses. The ones closest to the Keep had tile roofing. Thoughtfully crafted peaks sloped down to let water drain on the rare occasion it rained, but the further you looked, the more you saw that foresight was lost. Straw and flat stones comprised the cupolas as timber support beams stuck out of the foundation, built for longevity and not fashion.

You were mainly awake now, although sleep still clung to your eyelids. A leaf had snuck its way onto the railing before you, a crispy tan color with holes in its body, a sign of the changing seasons. You watched it drag across the intricately crafted banister before being swept away as quickly as it landed. A strong breeze brushed your bare legs, feeling it weave through your long gown; you pulled your silken robe tighter.

Your limbs controlled themselves as you moved to your chamber doors, slowly opening them as you peeked out. As you suspected, the guard was slumped over, the hour of the owl upon him as you slipped out. You still recalled your time in the guest wing, traversing the long hallways to your intended destination.

The leaf reminded you of your brief moments spent at the Godswood. Your fleeting moments had you longing for a genuine opportunity to appreciate the acre of land it stretched on. You never had enough time to truly understand the beauty of it while you were here, caught up in the constant rotation of lessons and duties before your legitimization.

Elm, alder, and black cottonwood grew there, looking over the Blackwater Rush. Your old Septa Mariam had explained the history of a Godswood. You could remember her lecture as you sat in the lesson room, staring longingly out of the pane-glass windows.

When the First Men converted to faith in the Old Gods, after the Pact between the Children of The Forest, they created Godswoods. They were groves within their castles and villages where a single Weirwood, also known as a Heart Tree, would be planted so the Gods could be worshipped. Each tree was carved with a face, said to have been done by The Children during the dawn, centuries before the First Men. Before the treaty was made, while the war was waged between the Children of The Forest and the First Men, they cut down every Weirwood they found. They thought the greenseers of the Children, who could influence plant life and have prophetic dreams, could see through the faces.

The most severe oaths and vows are said before the Heart Trees, believing you are standing before the Old Gods when you do. To break a promise that was noted in the presence of the Gods was a means to a fate worse than death. Septa Mariam did not believe that to be true, going as far as to demonize the unpopular faith for believing in what she said were false idols. The dedication of the Seven was the only truth to her.

You didn't care or know much about religion before being found, only knowing the Seven as that was the most common belief and what the people of Kings Landing practiced. You didn't believe something so transcendent could reside in such a lecherous place, but when you stepped into the Godswood for the first time in years, the wind blowing through your ebony hair, you couldn't help but feel everything was true. 

Even in the heart of a secular city, you could feel the Old Gods watching with their unseen eyes, hidden within the rocks and the trees, settled into the blades of grass and dirt under your shoes. Their stares did not frighten you. Strangely, within their watchful gaze, you felt comforted. It felt mystical, a blanket of infinity enveloping your flesh in something otherworldly. You were welcomed in a place full of people who did not want you.

You walked to the Weirwood tree that stood ghastly in the darkness. Its bark was as pale as bone, its leafs as red as the blood coursing through your veins. The slender white branches shook in the autumn wind, the crimson foliage floating onto the sod beneath it.

You traced the tips of your fingers delicately across the truck, feeling its rough texture as you placed your forehead upon it. It had only been a short period in which you resided at the Red Keep, but your mind felt like it had been an eternity. You longed for the smell of brimstone and salt, a sulfuric scent no one besides Aegon the Conqueror was thought to enjoy. That scent was home to you, a place full of family, where you had fond memories of love and belonging. Your heart ached to see them again even though you had barely left.

You wished to ruffle your digits in Luke's curly brown hair, grab Jace by the scruff of his neck, rub your knuckles on his scalp, and pinch Joffrey's cherubic face until he swatted your hands away with his much smaller ones. You yearned to see your kin again. The people here that called themselves were anything but.

Peace had finally set into your limbs as you sighed through your parted lips, the isolation sinking into nothingness. You lowered yourself to the damp ground as you nestled between two winding roots and peered through the gaps of leaves above you, looking into the vast amounts of stars that twinkled in the darkness.

You thought about nothing anymore, staring into the sky as you heard the faint scraping of shoes. Assuming it was just a servant or perhaps a guard, you ignored them, breathing deep into your chest. The clatter of metal against stone rang through the night, disturbing your harmony. Barely audible sounds of dissatisfied rumblings caused you to sit up with a scowl, squinting to see the disturbance.

Almost imperceptibly, you saw the silhouette of a man bent over as he gathered a pitcher off the ground. You knew without a second thought who it was, debating with yourself if you should lend a hand. He seemed well enough as he scooped it up, stumbling to gather his footing. You settled back into your spot, sighing as you nestled your head back onto a pale root.

Just as your body had begun to slip into a relaxed state, the same piercing metal sound happened again, and you opened one unamused eye, sighing.

"Having difficulty?" you questioned with a snark into the night, not moving.

"Fuck," you heard him mumble, a dull thud following.

At that, you finally moved, propping yourself up on your elbows as you glared at him with a hooded gaze.

"Aegon, must I fetch your Mother?" you taunted, a wicked grin burning your cheeks.

Aegon snapped his head from his place on the ground towards you, a surprised look on his face. He believed you were in his mind at first. The cups he had lost himself in filled his head with thoughts of your gentle touch, your lips brushing against the shell of his ear as you whispered his name. He now knew it was the Arbor Red talking.

"I..." He staggered upwards, brushing his palms on his trousers, recovering quickly, much to your chagrin, "am perfectly well, dear heart."

Your stomach flipped for a reason you did not know. You didn't like how he spoke, uncomfortable with what they made you feel. It reminded you of something Rhaenyra would say, an intimate person you longed to be with again, as your eyes looked anywhere but at the drunken prince.

"You certainly appear so," you commented sarcastically, leaning more weight onto your elbows as you sighed. "Why are you awake, my Prince?" He did not indicate if he had heard you, only gazing into the vast acre of the Godswood.

Despite your voice's calm, almost emotionless tone, the flesh of your bottom lip found its way between your teeth as you sat up, pressing your knees to your chest and resting your chin on them. A short silence fell as Aegon gathered his bearings, stumbling over to you as you pulled your legs closer.

He stopped beside your slippered feet, staring at the shaking leaves above, some falling onto the soft grass as a cool breeze swept through the grounds. You couldn't understand why your toes curled at his presence, your hands suddenly sticky and uncomfortable and griping the hem of your nightgown. You wondered if he could sense it, your whole body tensing as he grew bored of the leaves and plopped next to you. You hoped he was too drunk to notice.

You swallowed thickly, the sound loud and audible as you picked at the blades of grass. Aegon didn't hear the loud clicking in your throat, focused on flipping the metal pitcher upside down as the last few drops of Arbor Red dripped onto his pink tongue. Unlike you, he seemed comfortable in the silence, quietly humming to himself as he wiped the excess drink with the back of his hand.

The guilt from how you treated Aegon when you found him crept up your spine, stinging your ears as your face burned at the memory. He was kind to you, albeit obstinate at times, but nothing terrible. He defended you before his mother, the Queen Consort of the Seven Kingdoms! On the other hand, you had spat such vile insults—words he did not deserve within such a vulnerable state. You regretted them deeply, but your pride refused to admit it aloud, your mouth opening and closing with slight intakes of breath as you fought to apologize.

"Why did you not return my letters?" Aegon abruptly asked, distracting you from your inner turmoil.

"I did not receive any."

And that was the truth. No raven from the Red Keep was ever directly for you until Queen Alicent. They were all intended for your mother, father, and the few Lords that spent their time at Dragonstone.

"Do not think me a fool," he spat without warning. "I sent you a letter every moon for a year, and even then, when you did not respond, I sent one to my half-sister, begging her for you to write to me." You stared at him bewildered, your mouth slightly agape as your heart sank. "I just..." he began, cutting himself off as his mouth became wet, "I only wanted to know if you were well. After everything that happened all those years ago, I would expect one to feel a need for comfort and companionship."

Aegon had no intention of belittling you; he only wanted to show you the compassion which you had been neglected of. Your instinct was to deny any need for sympathy, feeling offended that he thought you could not handle yourself, but you realized that was not the truth. The bitterness you harbored for his mother and grandfather had muddled together into a mess of resentment and rage for all who surrounded them, even those who had no part in it.

The moonlight reflected in his glassy eyes as you touched his cheek. You had never realized how pink and plump his lips were until they trembled in the silver lighting.

"I swear to you, Aegon, on the Seven, upon my late mother's grave, that I had no knowledge of the letters you sent me." You had to bite your tongue not to add that even if you did, you wouldn't have written to him anyways. The blinders of anger kept you from reason back then.

You saw how his face fell from the contorted pain your supposed rejection gave him to one of sad relief. "I must extend my apologies then," he said, attempting to move his cheek from your hold. You did not let him, leaning closer to him as you brought the other one to keep him in place.

"No, Aegon. It is I who must apologize." He stared at you in confusion, his light brown eyebrows furrowing together. Rubbing your thumb over the creases between them came naturally to you. You had done it with your brothers when they were upset, tracing over the lines and structure to calm them.

"Despite my lack of patience and disregard for you, you have continually shown your heart bare, and I..." you paused, willing your voice not to crack, "cannot thank you enough. You have only showered me with kindness and hospitality since I have stepped foot in Kings Landing. Even when I did not deserve it, you defended my honor so valiantly it would put my brothers to shame." You smiled, picturing Jace and Luke's faces as if they had heard the Queen call you a bastard. "Although I must admit my confusion surrounding your ravens. I never received any word from you, and I cannot fathom who would bar them from me."

You did have some ideas of who it was and why they did it, but it still upset you, even if you would have burned the letters anyway.

The tension in Aegon's brow loosened at the delicate swipes of your thumbs, shutting his bloodshot eyes in appreciation. He still looked the same boy you left for Dragonstone, though the dark circles on his porcelain skin were more prominent, and his hair was shorter. You watched him tuck his lower lip in his mouth, still quaking. You couldn't stop the way your hands slid back down his face, cupping his jaw in your palms as you tugged his wet lip from between the confines of his teeth, the dry pad of your finger sticking to the soft skin.

He opened his eyes at the movement, his violet irises nearly black to focus in the darkness. You gave a small smile, not fully stretching your face as you dropped your hands, finding his clenching the loose fabric of his trousers; his knuckles blanched as you took them in your own. You inhaled sharply to speak but thought better of it as you shuffled closer to Aegon, the fine hairs on your arm tickling his.

***

You weren't sure when you had fallen asleep within the Godswood, the birds chirping as the morning sun rose above the trees. Your back ached as you attempted to stretch your body, only to find the silver-haired head of a prince on your lap. You didn't remember inviting him to rest there, but you didn't wake him, his pouty lips slightly parted as he softly snored.

Aegon looked so sweet like this, like an innocent child who had yet to discover the atrocities of the world. Your fingers itched to run through his hair, to scrap his scalp until he purred into your touch. This was wrong, and you knew it, having the notoriously hedonistic prince lying like a babe on your plush thighs. You wondered what your father would do if he caught you.

The most obvious answer was that he would be furious, most likely at Aegon, and pull him by the short locks attached to his head and onto the ground. Deamon would spit pure venom from his lips, a fit of anger you had only ever seen him display once before, and then he would turn to you. He wouldn't say anything. He wouldn't need to. You could see everything he wanted to convey in his eyes. There would be a mix of frustration, confusion, and disappointment. You would explain what had happened and try to convince him his wrath was directed at the wrong person.

Aegon was just a byproduct of the people he hated, the green bitch and her cunt of a father, Daemon called them. You would explain that Aegon had no desire to rule nor the capability, even though he had not said that himself. Your father would argue that no man will turn away the opportunity to be the most powerful being in all the realm. Once Aegon understood he could have everything he desired, there would be no refusal. Would a man lost in the desert refuse a drink of water simply because it was not from the springs?

You would agree with your father. He was right, after all. He was always right. Daemon knew of the darkest wants everyone had. He could read people and bait them to reveal whatever he wanted them to. You admired him for that. It was a trait you hoped to possess eventually. You realized then that you needed to find something Aegon would covet more than unlimited power. You had to make him crave something more intoxicating.

A lump formed in your throat as you gazed down at the sleeping prince who had not stirred during your dissociation. You knew that only one thing could sway him from saying yes to the crown, and your eyes burned with tears at the thought.

You inhaled a shuttering breath, willing the water not to spill as you brought a shaking hand to Aegon's frizzy hair, running your fingers on his scalp.

"It is time to wake up, my Prince," you leaned into his ear, gently whispering. "The sun has risen, and there is much to do."

Aegon still refused to open his eyes. He groaned, rolling onto his side and shoving his face below your navel. You grinned, quietly laughing as you lifted his chin to meet your gaze.

The angle you moved him to caused his neck strain, a bright blue vein popping on his milky skin. You could almost see it throbbing as the flesh thinned. Your finger found its way to it, tracing the turquoise line that expanded from his jaw to his clavicle to where it joined the rest of his body. You caught his twinkling lilac eyes in your brown ones, the vessels within them no longer prominent as he blinked sleep away. Aegon sat up, shifting his body weight onto his palm as your finger stopped its movements on the stained undershirt he wore.

He said nothing as he moved to his knees, his free hand cupping the underside of your jaw in the juncture between his thumb and index. His touch was not quite as tender as yours was, squeezing the area tightly, almost as if he was afraid you would turn away. You felt your heart rate quicken, your lungs suddenly telling you to fill them with more air as his thumb stroked your chin, extending to expose the raw flesh from your nervous habit.

You didn't register that Aegon had moved, his face closer than what you would deem appropriate, as your lips quivered.

"You are shaking, little one," he stated, the gravel of his tired voice rumbling in your chest.

"I am?" you breathed, your body feeling powerless.

You wanted to be strong, as you were taught to be. Yank your face out of his grasp and dust off your dress as you left, but you couldn't. He made you weak. One look at his angelic face and your limbs were putty. Your eyes began to heat with tears again, your stomach fluttering with unfelt emotions.

"Princess," a man called from the entrance to the castle.

You jerked away faster than you thought possible, wobbling to your feet, lightheaded. It was only because you stood so quickly, nothing else.

"My Lady," one of the Cargyll twins stood, bowing his head stiffy as you approached him. "I was altered by her Grace Queen Alicent that there is to be a Council meeting at high noon. She wishes for you to attend."

"Thank you, Ser Erryk." A self-satisfied smirk curved your lips as you spoke, partially because you knew what Alicent had to do for you to be invited and the other because you had guessed to twin correctly based on how his blue eyes widened at the correct name. "If you have time, alter my maids that I wished to have a bath drawn. The air here is not what I am accustomed to."

"Why does Mother want her at a Council meeting Erryk," Aegon questioned too late, you already walking underneath the stone covering of the Keep.

You bristled at the informal way he addressed the knight, raising your eyebrows as you turned to watch the pair.

Ser Erryk was stiffer than you when you had spoken to Ser Criston Cole a few nights prior, tensing as Aegon came closer. "I am not certain of the reason, my Prince. It is not my place to question the Queen's decisions."

Aegon scoffed, stuffing his loose shirt into his pants to seem somewhat put together. He turned to you, his face asking if you wanted to spend hours deliberating with a bunch of stuffy, rich old Lords and his mother.

You made no protest like he had expected you would, remembering how much you disliked the small meetings you had to attend for your legitimization. He frowned deeply, childishly stomping as he sat on a wooden bench against a pale red rock wall.

"Do not sulk, Prince Aegon. It is unbecoming. I would hate for you to be in such a sour mood when we meet again." Your face and voice were stoic, but there was a light behind your eyes, only one that Aegon could see.

He crossed his arms, flipping his hair out of his vision as he continued to pout, though you swore you saw a hint of his smile ghost his lips as he turned away.

***

Once your maids of the Keep had brushed and washed your tangled hair, smoothing lavender and clary sage oils into the long strands and on your skin, they put the black tresses into a braided style similar to the one Visenya wore. It was simple yet regal, and when paired with the deep crimson of your dress, a golden three-headed dragon curling around the expanse of your breasts and wide neckline, it was sure to conjure the image you wanted—a fierce Targaryen princess born and bred of fire and blood.

The Small Council had to respect you in the sense of your rank, bowing and calling you a lady of the realm, but that was all pointless, nothing but supercilious words inside the Chamber. Lords would not adhere to the opinions of a woman, no matter if she was queen or not, and with Rhaenyra residing in her self-imposed isolation for the past years, neglecting her courtly duties, it only made things more arduous.

Your father had mentioned Grandsire appointing him to the Small Council in times past, but the positions always bored him. He felt the call to act while the other members sat and only wanted to debate. The world was moving faster than the Lords could discuss, and with how lawless Kings Landing was at the time, Daemon knew only action would fix it. He had created the Gold Cloaks, and after the night of bloodshed and savagery you had heard about when young, he was never allowed a chair again.

A guard had come for you when you were ready, leading you to the Council Chambers.

The doors were already open, and a few men sat discussing amongst themselves. You recognized one, heart-stopping and body freezing, his image forever seared into your memory. Ser Otto Hightower had greyed some, his hair was still the same wiry brown, curly beard brushed neatly as allowed, and hair slicked back with oil. The bronze hand pin poked proudly through his lapel's embroidered deep green fabric.

You felt your lungs shrink, refusing to let you inhale. Your chest began to hurt, your mouth becoming thick and your jaw quivering as you stood in the doorway, your presence so unimportant as not to go announced.

You couldn't think. You couldn't breathe. You couldn't move. All you could do was stare at the man who sentenced your loved ones to death. He shoved their heads on spikes and placed them on the battlements of the Red Keep for all to gawk and ogle. A punishment that was only served to those who betrayed the crown.

Everything seemed to move slower, your eyes focusing and unfocusing on the Lords surrounding the table. One laughed, a man with golden hair lifting his head back lightly to bellow one out. Another sniffled, wiping his nostril with his forefinger and running a hand through his thick beard before continuing his conversation with the nearly dying man beside him.

You were terrified, a fawn left alone in the woods, helpless to watch as a pack of wolves feasting on its mother's corpse. Your instinct was to run from the danger, run as far and as fast as your legs could carry you until all you could see was the top of the Tower of the Hand. You wanted your mother. You wanted your father. You wanted your brothers... You wanted your family. Why couldn't they be here with you? It was high time Rhaenyra took her place as the heir and ran the kingdom instead of the Hand, but she wasn't. She wouldn't. She felt her place was with her family on Dragonstone, eating candied lemon cakes and fish as she taught Jace High Valyrian, uncaring of her future simply because some Houses swore allegiance to her.

Daemon was wise to send you here without telling her. If he had, you were sure she would have attempted to impose her self-ideology and keep you on the volcanic island while Otto Hightower and his daughter continued to run the Seven Kingdoms in their vision.

"Her Grace, Queen Alicent of House Hightower."

Ser Harold Westerling's voice caused you to jump in fright, moving nearly three paces away from the door just in time for Alicent to make her entrance, her hands clasped together.

The Council members all stood from their chairs in respect for her title, but they couldn't help but wander away from the Green Queen and onto the Black Princess, dressed in rich Targaryen red and adorned with golden jewels. You caught the gaze of the black-bearded man, averting your eyes as you bowed to Queen Alicent. She only regarded you with a frown, like you were a frayed string on the seams of her emerald gowns.

She walked further into the Chamber, her back like an iron rod, as she sat at the farthest end of the table. The one meant for the King or the Hand, not the Queen. Her place conveyed a message to the entire room without words, and you made a small expression of disgust as you understood the meaning.

How many doubts for Rhaenyra's claim were planted by Alicent Hightower and not her father?

You finally comprehended how much you had underestimated her sway in the line of succession. You had thought Alicent still had some honor and sense of duty to do what was right, remembering how she could not stand Ser Otto's decision regarding Lyra and Sara. You were wrong. She was just as wicked and conniving as her father, a product of his greed and lust for power. The slight warmth you regarded for Alicent was gone.

During your displeased state of being, you realized that you had not taken the empty seat across from her at the other end of the table. The Lords stared at you, expecting you not to be told what to do as it was apparent. You brushed off their looks as you rolled your shoulders, straightening your posture and taking your place in the oversized wooden chair. A ball was already in its designed hole, reflecting a deep obsidian color as Queen Alicent began to speak.

"I am sure, my Lords, you are all curious about the presence of a new member," she paused, perched on the edge of her wooden seat as she placed her hands on the table. "Upon the orders of Princess Rhaenyra," Alicent lied as you narrowed your eyes at her, "she has sent her daughter as a ward to sit in her stead as the heir." The men all stared at her with wide eyes but kept their mouths shut, knowing it was not their place to question the child of the King.

She nodded to you, signaling she was finished with her short introduction and was allowing you to speak. You flashed a smile at the shocked looks of the grown men, and they all stiffened, a bolt of fear running through them as they saw Daemon sitting before them.

"My mother does send her sincerest regards for neglecting her duty for so long. As many of you know, she has been with child consistently these past years and has felt it unsafe to travel for her and a babe. Most of you sitting here are fathers yourself and I am certain you can understand how tumultuous childbirth can be." You placed your hands on your womb, looking down at the mahogany table with a slightly sad but wistful look, pretending to swallow tears back as you discreetly glanced up to see their reactions.

You had to hold back a snort as they all shared solemn looks, no doubt remembering how the former Queen had lost her life. All men were the same when it came to it, hypocrites and easy to fool with a few sighs and batting of lashes.

"As her Grace mentioned, I am here in her place, and the Princess expects you to extend the same treatment as you would to the heir of the Iron Throne. She has entrusted me with upholding her opinions and desires on matters of the realm." You raised your head, the sorrowful look you had passed now gone as you met each pair of eyes surrounding you. "And I intend to uphold them with unwavering devotion."

Leaning back in your seat, you signaled that you were finished with the introduction, resting your fingers on the shiny obsidian ball before you, but you were not done with your words.

"I realize that it has been some time since our King has set foot in these chambers," you traced the cool orb with your digits. "I, regretfully, have only heard on parchment of his health and wish to be informed of his most recent state."

It felt like all the men could do was stare at you, unable to form coherent thoughts with the upheaval in the order of things. The hand was the first to speak, unsurprisingly.

"The King is well and sends his regards for being unable to attend today. His health has continued steady progress." You kept your eyes down, waiting for the lies to ensue. "Now, I wish to speak on the matters we discussed yesterday of the outdated infrastructure of the Royal Sept. The benches are-"

A scoff left your mouth before you could catch it, interrupting Lord Hightower. "The well-being of the King is not as important as remodeling a sept?" You asked rhetorically, looking at Otto incredulously. "Are you serious?"

"Princess," he spoke to you condescendingly, as if you were a fool, "if you wish to inquire about the King's health, I suggest you visit him yourself. We have matters to discuss that you are unaware of due to your sudden attendance."

Otto had practically just told you to silence yourself in much more elegant words. You could barely contain the rage that shook your bones at his rudeness, wanting to jump across the table and strangle him until he turned blue. Instead, you clenched your jaw, settling him with a stare that would kill.

"The King's health is a matter of continued discussion. Should he not be here today? Sitting across from me with his golden crown? Our utmost desire should be to bring King Viserys back to his former self. I believe that takes precedent over the benches in the Royal Sept."

"Your Grace," the frail man spoke, his voice shaking from use during his decades of life. "I am Grand Maester Mellos. I see to the Kings in matters of his health." You nodded to him, waiting for him to continue, his words slow. "I can say with certainty that our King only proceeds to regain more strength and vigor that he had only possessed in his youth." You saw Alicent shift her hands into her lap, focusing on them instead of the old man. "You need not trouble yourself with handled matters."

"Good," you replied with a polite smile, quickly replacing your irritated demeanor as you looked over to Ser Otto. "I will be sure to see him attending the meetings soon, then."

Alicent twitched, her lips tightly pursing as she inhaled deeply. You relaxed lazily in your seat, the wood creaking as you become comfortable in her discomfort. Her anxiety only solidified your conclusion as you saw her pick her nails. They were lying.

You were silent the rest of the two hours the boring lords spoke. Your father's opinion was correct about the dullness of things. It was all frivolous discussion about updating the castle and Sept, replacing the "out dated" tapestries with more modern ones to showcase the future and wealth of House Targaryen. No action. Just talk. You knew that now more than ever, you were needed. If not for the sake of your family's claim, then for the sake of the realm. 

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Thank y'all so much for your support!! I'm so grateful for all the likes and reblogs. I hope everyone who has been with me since the beginning knows that you have a special place in my heart, and to anyone who just now tuned in, make sure to leave a comment so I can tag you! I would hate for you to search for your likes or reblogs for the story. I only say that because I hate doing that myself. XD Also, check out the Spotify playlist because I've added new songs and changed stuff around. I am trying to decide which is my current fav. It's either Little Red Riding Hood by Aeseaes or Fairwell Wanderlust by The Amazing Devil, or maybe even Souls on Fire by Mad Gallica. I seriously can't make up my mind!

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Bold means I couldn't tag you for some reason :(

#aegon the second #house of the dragon #aegon ii #aegon targaryen ii #prince aegon #aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen x you #aegon x you #aegon x y/n #aegon ii fic #hotd aegon #aegon the usurper #aegon ii fanfic #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii smut #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon ii x you #aegon ii x y/n #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen fanfic #aegon targaryen x targaryen!reader #hbo house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #aegon x reader #hotd alicent #tom glynn carney #aegon targaryen smut #aegon targaryen fluff

[everydayyoulovemeless]

anything arcade gannon.

Vault 22 ↠ Arcade x Reader

➼ Word Count » 0.7k ➼ Warnings » None ➼ Genre » Romantic, Forced Proximity? Maybe? ➼ A/N » I was trying something different with this one? I think it's the scenes that are throwing me off. I don't think I normally write such action-based scenes, but I hope it's not too offputting😭

"I'm no botanist, but I think this may not be entirely natural." You rolled your eyes at the doctor's comment.

“What gave you that idea?”

The dirt-covered floors of the vault reminded you much of the desert that awaited you outside. It stuck to the bottom of your shoes in a leech-like way, and you were certain that it'd find some impossible way to slip into your shoes.

Some might see this place and consider it as a 'lost oasis in the middle of a dried-out sea,' but you saw it for what it really was. A nuisance. You couldn't wait to be cleaning out your belongings for weeks after you left. As if there wasn't enough dirt and sand around you as it was.

"Watch your step. There's a lot more weeds on this level." You cautioned, hacking away at the taller shrubs with your machete as you wandered down the corridor.

Arcade didn't object, following you with a new awareness of his surroundings.

"You know, despite the inevitable danger we're sure to find ourselves in, this place is a scientific marvel." He said, adjusting his glasses as he inspected the ecosystem around him.

"I bet it is." You hummed, "Keep your head on a swivel. We're here to rescue someone, not fawn over pre-war experiments."

"I forgot that it was a crime for me to enjoy myself."

The further you both ventured into the vault, the more the plants started making an appearance. They weren't just growing in small clusters near the doorways anymore, they were everywhere; on the walls, across the floors, and a few were even growing out of terminals. The longer you walked, the less you felt as if you were inside a vault. Vines and flowers were strewn all over the place, and there hardly seemed to be an end in sight.

"Stay close to me. I'm not so sure we're alone anymore."

"I know how to shoot a gun, thanks." He shot back at you, unholstering it to prove his point.

You glanced back at him. He was very clearly not in the mood for your holier-than-thou attitude anymore.

You gripped your machete with a newfound goal in mind: survival. The atmosphere had changed drastically from quiet and uneventful to something you couldn't quite put your finger on, but you knew it wasn't anything to look forward to.

You continued forward, your eyes darting all around your surroundings for anything even slightly out of place. It was silent for a moment as everything grew stagnant. Then, out of the corner of your eye, you watched as a spore plant awoke seemingly out of nowhere. It was tall and grim-looking as it lunged at Arcade with excellent precision.

You were quick to tackle him out of the way, arms on either side of his head, inadvertently caging him beneath you as you stared over at the creature in question.

It reeled back strangely as it prepared for whatever attack it was going to do next.

You grabbed the front of his shirt quickly, dragging him out of the way once again as the plant spat a weird gunk at you both.

You both breathed heavily as you allowed your back to lean against the convenient wall of filing cabinets you'd taken cover behind.

"You sure you know how to shoot a gun?" You teased, your hand still firm on his shirt. "It would've been useful if you shot that thing as it was coming down on you."

He didn't say anything, opting to just glance down at your hand as it entangled itself firmly in the fabric. His face was still slightly flushed when he finally looked over at you. Both from the suddenness of everything and the close proximity that'd been forced between the two of you.

"Yeah.." He breathlessly spoke, "I... guess it would've been."

You released his shirt, patting the side of his face gently as you unholstered your own gun. You turned around sharply, resting your elbows on the top of the metal barrier, and shot three times at the spore plant before it finally wilted forward.

Once you felt sure that it wouldn't wake again, you turned to face Arcade. He looked slightly more composed as he brushed the dirt off his sleeves.

"Ready to get going, doc?" You grinned, hitting his back in a friendly manner intended to help calm him down, but it didn't seem to have helped as he tensed when he felt you touch him.

"Yep. Let's.. get going."

#fallout #fallout new vegas #fnv #courier six #arcade gannon x courier #arcade fnv #arcade gannon #arcade ganon x courier #arcade gannon oneshot #arcade gannon fnv #arcade x courier 6 #arcade x courier six #arcade x courier #arcade x reader

[definitelynotstable]

Camomile pt. 17 [Ghost x gn!Reader]

pt. 1, pt. 2, pt. 3, pt. 4, pt. 5, pt. 6, pt. 7, pt. 8, pt. 9, pt. 10, pt. 11, pt. 12, pt. 13, pt. 14, pt. 15, pt. 16, pt. 17

AN: Another oneeeeee.

Synopsis: Closely follows the “El Sin Nombre” mission from mw2 (reboot). Rights to the game developers <3 Word Count: 1.8k Warnings: canon divergence, canon typical violence, guns, wounds, swearing, brief mentions of sa etc Ghost x gn!Reader (Callsign: Rags): Note about pronouns at the bottom :)

✧˚ · .

You hood is yanked from your head and you squint at the harsh fluorescent lighting. 

“Hermana.”

Your eyes widen as they meet the brown ones in front of you.

“Alejandro?”

He’s in a suit and wears a matching balaclava to the men at the gate. He rests a hand on your shoulder, holding your gaze.

“How did you–“

–“No time.” He cuts you off, “Listen, give them good intel in there. Don’t lie, tell them everything they want to know or you’ll die here.”

“Everything?” You know it’s part of the plan and partially your idea but you’ve been trained not to give up intel. This goes against everything you’ve learnt as a soldier.

“Everything.” Alejandro confirms, “Mexican special forces, American PMCs, Shadow Company, Philip Graves – all truth.”

“Even your name?” You ask, unsure of how much is too much. But there’s a screech and elevator doors open, cutting you off.

A man stands, a double leather holster overlaps his brightly patterned shirt. He’s bald with a dark beard and a chain rests on his chest. Your gaze flicks up to his and he grins at you like a hungry shark and it takes everything in you not to gulp like a cartoon character. You settle for a shaky breath.

“¿Es ella?”

“Sí, señor.” Alejandro replies, pushing you forward with a firm shove.

The man tilts his head, still smiling.

“You got a name, chica?” 

You swallow. No lies. 

“They call me Rags.”

“¿Qué tipo de nombre es Rags?” He laughs, reaching forward to grip your upper arm. “Let’s go.”

You tug back slightly, eyes hard. “I want to see El Sin Nombre.”

He turns back to you and grips your jaw tightly, wrenching your neck forwards and into the light.

“You’re only alive because you may have some information.” He squeezes harder and you bite your tongue. “It better be good perra or I’ll let my men have their way with you.”

He shoves you away with a laugh.

“Get the fuck out of my elevator.”

✧˚ · .

You’re shoved down the narrow hallways, trailing Diego as he gives you a scuffed version of a tour. Finally you’re pushed into a dimly lit room a the end of a corridor. The floor steps down and there’s a single light casting a hard glow on a cluster of chairs where two men in army uniforms are slumped; bound and gagged. Another sits with his back to you in more civilian attire.

“Valeria.” Diego says as you enter, “There’s one more. A gringo.”

The woman, Valeria, stands behind the two uniformed men. She’s in a tank top and jeans, a scarf around her neck and holster on her hips. She looks at you with an interest smile, almost like a cat.

“Sit down.”

The man to her left shoves one of the soldiers off a chair. He slumps over and rolls to the side, unmoving. You eye her warily as you cross the room, someone’s laid a tarp down in a poor attempt to keep the blood spatter from the polished wood floors. You swallow thickly as it squeaks underfoot, careful not to lose your balance with your hands still zip tied in front of you.

“¿Quién es?” Valeria asks, stepping in front of you to talk to Diego. There’s an authoritative air about her and Diego’s body language suggests she holds the power here – though it’s his house.

“El nombre es trapos.” He replies as she questions him. “They came to us.”

“¿Trapos?” 

You watch as she circles the man like an animal hunting its prey.

“And you let them in?”

Diego stands stock still. “They say they have information.”

You flinch as Valeria kicks out his legs from beneath him and holds a knife to his throat.

“¡No la conocemos y nos ha visto la cara!”’

“Valeria.” Diego gasps against her hold, palms raised in surrender. “We need intel, they could help us.”

She spits a threat to him in spanish before removing her hold and shoving him forwards. He lands on his hands and knees before scuttling to the side. 

Valeria’s gaze turns to you and she pulls out a gun from her holster. She holds it in a casual way which almost feels more threatening than the guards before. She’d use the gun to maim – a bullet to the head would be too easy.

“Children!” She says, swishing her hips as she comes to stand in the centre of the circle of chairs. “This is simple: I ask questions. You answer truthfully.”

She swings her gun around. “Do not lie to me.”

She turns to you, eyes dark and calculating.

“Recently we were protecting a friend in the mountains. Someone attacked us there. Who?”

The man across from you sends you an anxious glance. You realise he isn’t in civvies – he’s in the army but wears a jacket unlike the other two.

“Fue un caos. No lo vi.” He stutters and Valeria tuts.

“English. For the gringo.”

He gulps. “I-I think it was the Rivals Cartel.”

Valeria stares him down for a moment before turning to you. 

“Your turn, blanquita. Who attacked us?”

“It wasn’t cartel.” You say, mouth dry. It feels as though your betraying your own. “It was Mexican Special Forces.”

“We found the bodies." Valeria narrows her eyes and turns back to the man in front of you. “Now, how would an outsider know they were Mexican Special forces and not you?”

You watch as the man swallows, Diego pushing himself up from where he was sitting in the background – rolling his sleeves as he approaches.

“M-maybe she was there!”

Diego hisses something at the man in spanish and Valeria leans over the man menacingly.

“There were outsiders helping the Mexican Special Forces. Who were they?”

“We – we heard them yelling – some in English. They were with the gringos – like her!”

Valeria turns to face you and you meet her gaze.

“American PMCs. A group called Shadow Company.”

Diego curses from where he stands behind the man and Valeria spits at the ground.

“What proof do you have?”

You jut your chin out, “check my pocket.”

The woman leans forward cautiously and pulls the patch from your pocket. The overhead light casts harsh shadows and highlights her muscular shoulders; arms covered in tattoos.

You lick your lips nervously as she studies it. “Shadow company insignia. Proof.”

Valeria drops the hand holding the patch to her side and leans over you, warm breath fanning over your face.

“Who leads Shadow Company? Give me a name.”

You feel less guilty saying the Americans name. He hasn’t earned your trust like Alejandro has. 

“Phillip Graves.”

Satisfied, Valeria pushes off the chair and away from you, studying the insignia again as Diego chuckles.

“Fill graves. I like that.”

Valeria passes the patch to him before turning back to you.

“This man …Graves. What does he want?”

Your jaw ticks slightly. “He wants the missiles you’re moving.”

The man across from you scoffs and says something under his breath. It seems to anger Valeria and he speaks in rapid streams of spanish. Diego approaches him, gun in hand and his voice raises. He’s begging for his life.

You watch, eyes wide as Diego pressed the gun to his temple and pulls the trigger. Blood and brain matter splats wetly across the floor and you hold back a gag. It’s easier to pull the trigger than be forced to watch someone else do it like some sick play.

You’re grateful when Valeria rounds on you, filling your vision and blocking the now-dead man.

She leans down, her knife in hand.

“How nice.” Her dark eyes bore in to yours as she cuts through the zip ties around your wrists. “You did good. Well done.”

She turns and walks to the door, the other men in the room stepping out of her way. 

“We’re going upstairs.” Diego beckons you forward. “Come on, chica.”

✧˚ · .

Diego shoves you roughly into the elevator and converses in spanish too complicated for you to understand. Valeria still watches you with her calculating gaze, only looking up when the elevator dings and the doors open. 

A man in a suit and balaclava waits at the top – a guard.

“This is where you wait, Rags.” Diego shoves you into the arms of the waiting guard and barks an order at him. The guard presses you roughly up against the wall as Diego disappears down the hall with Valeria.

The guard holding you says something to other guard nearby. He says something back before chucking a pale mask at the one restraining you and exiting through a door nearby.

“Your alive.”

The voice catches you off guard. You almost forgot he was inside with you.

“Alejandro!” You sag in relief, arms still against the wall as your friend pretends to search you for weapons. “I’m glad you’re alive too.”

“What did you find?” He asks, squatting to pat down your pants.

“El Sin Nombre is in the penthouse – third floor.”

“We’ll need a keycard.”

“Diego has one.” You reply, remembering the man fidgeting with it and using it in the elevator.

Alejandro finishes his fake search and hands you a mask and a knife.

“Take this.”

You slide the knife into your belt, feeling considerably safer with a weapon. “Why a mask?”

“Some people here can’t be seen with the cartel.” He says, already striding away from you and down the hallway. “Comms are hooked in.”

You slip it on, rolling your neck as it itches against the skin there. His voice buzzes in your air. 

“Radio check?”

You give him a thumbs up. “Copy.”

“You’re good.” Alejandro confirms back, “Let’s head out.”

✧˚ · .

AN: ok here’s the situation re pronouns. This dialogue was so damn hard to write gender neutral esp since I don’t know a lick of spanish. The spanish is the only part that is gendered and the logic here is that Rags is most likely fem presenting and so that’s the language used. I’m a she/they girly and I get it’s probably insanely disappointing for my other enbies out there to find gn content. I’m sorry to disappoint but at the end of the day I’m trying to get these out as fast as I can on top of uni and don’t quite have the capacity to be as thorough as I’d like when it comes to this. I plan on turning this into an OC fic eventually and Rags will be afab and use she/her pronouns in that. The rest of this fic will stay generally gn though :)

✧˚ · .

Taglist

@crosshairs773fp @alanalanalanalanalanna @ghostlythots @hyperfixationwhore @shinebright2000 @sae1kie @hotaruteba @karurururu @rorel1a @http-paprika @thriving-n-jiving @lazybutsmexy @zozosrandomthings @jinxxangel13 @tumblinginoz @kee-0-kee @moonsua1 @freeseeker @kaoyamamegami @01trickster10

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Masterlist

#simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost call of duty #ghost mw2 #ghost x reader #ghost x you #cod mw ghost #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #simon ghost riley x reader #141 x reader #task force 141 #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #captain john price #call of duty modern warfare #ghost x y/n #ghost x gn reader #ghost drinks camomile

[indouloureux]

𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐌 𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑

where you goin'? i'm too fast you say 'what you doin?' don't do that never been a liar, baby, i'm a lilac and you are my sun and every season i need you to keep glowing

summary: bloody and bruised, you watch the thick crimson ichor blend into the thin waters that seeps through the faucet of steve's pristine bathtub. grime and black tar stain the marble of his bathroom floor from the wounds on your feet, and his tears stain your tired thumbs. he trembles in your touch, and he melts into your sacrilegious kiss, and revels in your promising words

warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, hurt steve, mentions of blood, events before the two days later time skip of volume two, no one dies but max gets hurt and so does eddie

a/n: ik i said i had a 20k fluff fic with eddie but i wanna give steve some love and comfort bc poor baby :((( (images are not reader in steve its just hard to find a pic like that lol)

there's nothing but the lone owl hooting behind the cluster of trees beside steve's house. the lights are off, there's fog hovering over his cerulean pool that he refuses to dive into since 1983. you watch as nancy's car scurries away into the road until her lights are nothing but a speck of dust, and switch your attention to him.

him, steve. who has a lenient hand on your back as he stares off into the abyss of the empty street in front of him. from afar you hear chaos, the confused screams of the clueless townspeople at the sight of a gnarly opening that splits hawkins into four. you can still hear houses falling into that red pit, but most of all you can hear steve's breathing.

a breathing that's hanging by a thread. a tired breathing. one that breaks your heart and probably his, too.

he's covered in grime and blood. not his, anyway. eddie's, who he had to carry with the help of his limping friend who'd cried the entire time. you had watched the way steve's eyes were wide with panic when he practically hurls eddie to you and nancy with all his strength before he'd helped dustin up.

eddie's blood had spread across his face when he wipes the tears away. he doesn't want to show vulnerability yet. not when his friend was on the verge of death. not now. don't be selfish.

"hey," your voice brings him back to earth, from wherever reminiscing daze he'd been on. and his head whips at you in worry.

"hey, baby. you alright?" his hands, although covered in the dried tar and grease of vecna's black veins, comes up to touch your face. it reeks, but there's that congenial scent that holds on to bring you both some comfort as you lean into his touch.

"yeah," tingling fingers come up to brush his hair out of his forehead, coming down to grasp the red ring around his neck that makes your bottom lip wobble. "let's go inside, yeah?"

wordless, he nods, wrapping his arm around your waist to keep you close to him. like he's afraid one of the vines would come up from the gates and hurl you back into that blue hell.

the door to his house opens with ease. he doesn't even care if someone had decided to break in inside his unlocked home. because it doesn't feel like home anyway. not when his parents are gone still, not when you're not in it. it's not a home. it's just a house. an empty, boring, lifeless house.

steve switches the lights open. the dim flaxen color illuminating the entire living room, coated in dust. he scans it, finds everything still in the same place before he continues your journey up to the stairs that lead to his bedroom—the only thing used other than the kitchen, his bathroom, and the television in the living room that he barely even opens now that he mostly spends his time at your place watching movies from the tapes he "borrows" from work.

the door to his room creaks eerily, the same lights from downstairs adding a too much optimistic glow on his bedroom. steve sighs, uncurling his arm from you to unsheathe his jacket and throws it into whatever corner.

"here, let me help," he walks over to you when you struggle to remove the clasp of the vest he'd practically forced you to wear. his hands gently remove yours from your vest, pressing down onto the sides until you feel yourself breathe properly; lax in from the freedom of the tight protection. "'m gonna take a shower, okay? wanna join me?"

he's already got his shirt off when he asks if you want to join, where you can see his bandages wrapped tightly around his torso. there's barely any blood there but you can see the light brown taint on his sides, the once wheaten bandaging now darkly brindle.

"yeah sure. just let me grab some towels,"

"there's some inside, baby," steve takes your hand, kisses the open cuts on your knuckles that had faded into this heavy numbness. "lets get you cleaned up, yeah?"

when he holds your hand and leads you to his bathroom where he sits you on the closed toilet, he closes the drain and opens his faucet to fill his alabaster tub. and once it starts flowing, he starts undressing you first with delicacy as if you'd been the one brutally hurt.

with gentle kisses to your shoulder, you let him rip your soiled shirt into two. steve's kisses are healing, antiseptic to your open wounds, honey to your sore throat and sage for your withering health.

then he lets you remove your jeans as he removes his own, where he takes yours into his hands and throws the both of them into the bin beside the sink. just in time for the tub to be full enough to wash the both of you.

with a hand to your back and a hand that clutches yours for safety, you dip your feet onto the tub.

once you've settled, steve follows next. he dips his body into the water, blood shattering the clear mosaic as you both feel the water wash off the ichor of a dead monster. but it feels wrong - rather it felt like steve had dipped his body, clad in open wounds, into an ocean, the salt stinging his bleeding scars. with his bandages long gone and discarded onto the charred floor, he feels the waves stab onto his bites like they want to hurt him more.

he lets his pain show with the way his face grimaces and he hisses. steve gasps quietly, watching his blood and dirt amalgamate with yours into the water you bless yourselves upon, watching everything turn pink with the specks of soot.

"christ, that feels good," he takes your hand into his once more, dipping your knuckles beneath the water and lets his thumbs wash the dirt off your knuckles to prevent any risk of an infection. "we showered yesterday before we went in but it feels like i haven't showered in years,"

"seems like that, to be honest," your shoulder raises, resting your cheek onto it. "you reek, stevie. like...dead meat."

"yeah, well, god knows what those veins have touched," he shivers. your hands arose from the pink water, the grime washed off meticulously by his soapless, gentle scrubbing. but you reach for the small bar of soap from the handle beside you and dip it lightly onto the water before you start scrubbing it along his hairy arms. "you don't have to do that."

"no, let me," you want to take care of him. you pity the dread that circles around his irises, the lethargy visible in his hunched body, the fear that exudes with his blood, the muscles that continue to fight; if not for himself then for the people he loves. the people he'll continue to love and give love in the way he wants to be given with. steve dilutes in your touch, watching the white foam turn gray.

and you see it. right when you've been expecting it do you see the crystal glass that gloss over his eyes that had been threatening to spill out since yesterday. steve's shallow breathing, the hair on his chest rising with the waters making it cling onto him, and his hands shaking against you.

"god, i can't fucking keep it anymore," he barely washes the soap off his skin when he curls his hands into fists and presses it against his eyes. "i can't hold it in, baby."

you scoot closer to take steve's broken soul into your arms. he sobs, breaks down and lets his cries break. your hands tangle themselves onto his damp locks, keeping him close to your shoulder and let him cry onto you. you do nothing but rub his back, bite your own tears in and listen to his lugubrious wails.

"i feel so weak. i feel like i don't deserve to cry because i don't have it harder. they've seen worse things but i felt...i felt a lot of pain," he whimpers into you. "there's this ringing in my ears that never leave, (y/n). i feel like i'm going deaf in one ear and my head just—" he pulls away from you, wiping his own tears. "my head just hurts and i don't know what's wrong with me."

"baby, come on," you cup his face, large in juxtaposition to your small hands, his tears staining your tired thumbs. "nothing's wrong with you. you're allowed to cry, honey. what makes you feel this way?"

"i don't wanna seem weak to you," he sniffles. "don't wanna look like a coward to dustin. to anyone but i've been trying so hard to put on a brave face. ah, fuck,"

everything inside you breaks when you see his eyes; striving to let it live with love but drowns in melancholy grief and heedless torpor. they gloss and they shine in the dim light of his bathroom, begging for remedy as they search yours for any aid. steve's own hand touches yours, his face crumbles and lets himself quietly sob.

"you're a hero," you whisper to him, leaning closer that your nose brushes with his. "people may not say it but you're a hero. you fought off the demogorgon in the byers house, you helped dustin and the kids with the whole demogorgon thing too and saving them from billy and helping will. and you helped dustin discover those russians and if you hadn't, maybe they would have invaded us by now," steve chuckles against you. "you did all those things without any hesitance, stevie. you're amazing,"

in your hands was a boy who craved love and appreciation. a boy who's changed for the greater good and yearns for felicitations. a boy who's kept his nightmares to himself in fear of seeming weak and too vulnerable; and steve lets himself be that boy to you.

"i have these dreams," steve's eyes are wide with fear. "that everyone died and it was all my fault. you'd been killed by a demogorgon, dustin and the kids they—they burned inside that lab. same one every night baby—"

"well i'm here now," you shush him, dragging your hands across his shoulders and massage the tension away. "and the kids are safe. i'm here, honey. i'm alive and i'm okay,"

"everything hurts," he gasps. "my head and my ears and my fucking neck," he tilts his head up to kiss your forehead, digging his wet lips into the soiled skin. "i don't know when it'll stop and i want it to stop, baby."

you know he's not just talking about the physical pain.

you both know he's talking about the never ending guilt in his chest when he sees the pool, the faded scars on his face that yells stupidity at him, the circular scar on his neck from after he was drugged beneath the mall he worked for, and now the cruel bites of the inter dimensional monsters.

"i'm here baby," three reverential words, sacrilegious that's prosed into a promise of protection and endless devotion. steve sobs into your skin and expresses his gratitude with a hard, chaste kiss to your split lips. warm, home, loving.

"you'll be here forever, right?"

his words that come from the years spent wandering around the desolated walls of his home, his longing for parental guidance and genuine love. the words that come from a changed man who promises himself to remain good and forget his old asshole self. steve cries against you.

"forever, baby," you furrow your eyebrows, smiling at him. "till i'm all dust."

he's the wilting lilac in a dead field that blooms when your radiance glows from your sunny disposition. even know with your bare limbs tangled inside the confined tub of his sacred bathroom, arms entwined and lips locked together into an oath. steve vows to show himself to you no matter what—lets himself break down and cry.

for now, steve harrington will grieve and cry and break against your touch. and he'll bloom later once the sun has risen and he's gathered up all his courage to face whatever challenge their failure has brought upon them. with his hand in yours and his heart mended.

reblogs and feedback are appreciated &lt;3

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington #stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things x y/n #stranger things fluff #stranger things angst #stranger things blurb #stranger things one shot #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things steve harrington #stranger things 4

[mydemonsdrivealimo]

Halloween (chapter 3)

Book: Open Heart

Chapter: 3/7

Character(s): Jensen Valentine

Rating: Teen

Words: 947

Chapter Summary: A glimpse at Jensen's med school graduation

A/N: sorry

Lyrics:

I'm leavin' this town and I'm changin' my address I know that you'll come if you want It's not Halloween, but the ghost you dressed up as Sure knows how to haunt, yes, it knows how to haunt

The loud sound of the tape ripping from the roll echoed across his apartment. He flattened it to the box, flipping it around and setting the tape to the side. In went yet another pile of clothes, perfectly folded and flattened to fit. He taped up the other side just as fast, grabbing the marker from the floor which was buried under a pile of bubble wrap and film from his bass, and quickly labeled the top and sides of the box.

Kicking it over with the others, he grabbed his glass off the table, half empty with some shitty, cheap whiskey and ginger ale. He continued to shove all the packing supplies into one corner. His former roommate was already gone, and he had to be out in two days, but keeping it clean was still easier than having to clean before his flight.

Everything he owned was packed away into a box besides one side-table’s worth of shit. He had space left in his suitcase for all of it, and the rest of the boxes would be dropped at the post office tomorrow. He only had a handful of them, namely filled with clothes and the few hobby-related items he kept, but any furniture or large items were sold.

It meant the apartment was mostly empty. There was that one side table that he was going to leave, and his bed was just a mattress in the middle of the floor now. Not that it was bad. Especially in comparison to some of his other living situations.

The only other thing in his room was his suitcase, which he rolled out to the open space that used to be the living room and kitchen. Stepping into the latter, he poured the rest of the soda and whiskey into his glass, mixing them around with one of the plastic butter knives left at the bottom of the former silverware drawer. 

There had been a number of parties and events he was invited to for the night but turned them down. He had a one-way flight to Boston in two days, and had to ship all his belongings in one.

His phone had been blowing up with graduation pictures, family dinners, after parties, and announcements all night. Picking up his diploma from the table, nestled on top of his cap and gown, he carefully tucked it inside his suitcase. He used a few shirts to cushion it before zipping it up once again.

Only a couple hours ago he had received it. He waited through all the other announcements until he was finally free to leave, and he practically had to fight through the crowds to get there. There were so many parents, siblings, aunts, uncles, cousins, cousins of cousins, and more clustered in groups around the large arena. 

He might’ve had some friends that would’ve been willing to go out with him to celebrate, but it was easier to go home and finish packing. 

It was easier to say his isolation was necessary rather than involuntary.

Just like it had been four years ago, undergrad graduation, when he sent an invite over text that got ignored

Just like it had been eight years ago, high school graduation, when he was told, to his face, that she’d be there, and then he never saw her again.

And maybe she was part of the reason why he thought it was so easy to be alone. She’d given plenty of practice—plenty of fucking disappointments. Maybe he should’ve invited her, but he didn’t want to set himself up again.

Every fucking picture on his feed made him want to vomit. Or scream. Or maybe just forget it was happening at all. All his peers celebrating with their families, out for dinners and probably home for the weekend, too.

What a thought: home for the weekend. Did they get homesick? Did they miss the people waiting for them? Or did they not have a place to be homesick for? Did they even have people waiting at all?

Home for the fucking weekend. Maybe it wouldn’t sound so foreign if she had bothered to tell him where she moved to after taking off the minute he was out of her hands.

He had narrowed it down to somewhere on the west coast, given sporadic posts about family vacations—fucking family vacations.

She traded him out for a new set of kids and a husband that lived in some beach house mansion even though she never took him to the beach because she hated it. 

But, you know, maybe it was just him, given how fast she ran away.

He put the phone down—maybe threw it—after blocking her account. Not for her sake, of course, but for his. For once, it was for him.

Standing up from the floor, he used the bottom of his shirt to wipe his nose and eyes. Not that he had really cried in over ten years, but anything close felt like some sort of success. Some sort of way to beat the “boys don’t cry” notion out of himself.

He would bet money that she never thought of him. Probably too worried about her new kids and her new perfect life and forgetting everything she left him with. Years of therapy, several failed medications, a sealed record, a public trial, the worst mental break of his life, a failed career as a musician, a high school graduation, bachelors, doctorate, accepted residency position, and a fucking partridge in a pear tree.

Maybe it was better like that, though. Finally letting the fuck go, finally acknowledging that some parasocial relationship stalking her Instagram posts wasn’t normal. Maybe it’d be easier.

tagging: @jerzwriter @cariantha @kyra75 @gutsfics @inlocusmads @choicesficwriterscreations

#jensen valentine #open heart #open heart mc #open heart fanfiction #choices open heart

[scriveyner]

always summer #20

always summer #20: fireworks | bungou stray dogs |👿🐯 | #kinktober 🔞| ~1100 words

Dazai was perched on the metal guardrail, watching the sea of pedestrian traffic flowing between the park attractions. It was dusk already, and this stretch of the arcade was lit by strands of bare-bulb lights strung between vendor stalls, interspersed with colorful, if faded, pennant flags. The lights on the attractions moved in patterns, under which people clustered for chances to win cheap prizes by knocking over milk cans or popping balloons with darts.

Continue on ao3 or:

Chuuya was a dark figure weaving efficiently through the ever-moving throng of people; he emerged near Dazai carting two covered boxes, a plastic garbage-bag-sized bag of popcorn under his arm, and enormous drinks in his other hand. To his credit, he was managing all of this food without the telltale red glimmer of his ability at work, and Dazai could only be a little impressed at the fact that he was holding both enormous cups in the same hand by their bottoms.

“What’s all this?” Dazai asked as he was handed a box, hot with food inside and the bottom wet with grease.

Chuuya looked around. “Huh, did we lose Atsushi and Akutagawa?”

“They’ve been gone a while now, just like you. Atsushi-kun was hungry, and Akutagawa-kun clearly loves indulging him.” Dazai plucked a perfectly deep-fried piece of food out of a sea of soggy fries. “What is this?”

“Dunno. Chicken, hopefully. They were deep-frying everything in sight, so there’s no telling.”

Dazai bit into it without further inspection and made no noise of distress, so it was at least edible. Chuuya leaned the closed plastic bag of popcorn against the rail before he opened his own box of food. “Glad I didn’t bother to haul food over for them too, then,” he said, and Dazai nodded his head, absently people-watching. “The burger prices here are obscene, they must be making money hand over fist. We oughta get in on it.”

“Opening a food truck in a heavily tourist-infested area and price-gouging?” Dazai chewed on a fry. “Retirement plans are for people who aren’t planning on killing themselves when they finally convince the love of their life to join them in the sweet abyss.”

“Remind me to take you off the liability insurance.”

Dazai smirked to himself and continued to eat fries, still watching the crowds of people and looking to pick out a familiar pair but not seeing them yet. “Hey, how many cheeseburgers do you think Atsushi can eat?”

Chuuya tilted his head back, elbows hooked over the rail. “Total, or in one sitting?”

“I don’t think there’s a number high enough to gauge the first.”

“Point. Counterpoint,” Chuuya pointed at Dazai with a fry, who then leaned over and took it from Chuuya’s fingers with his mouth. “How much money you got, because I’m pretty sure it would bankrupt the Port Mafia.”

They both laughed, the noise lost under the clamor of the amusement park.

~*~

The promenade was the place to be, filling up quickly with people all lining up for the best positions to watch the show. They were far enough away from the wide, paved paths around the lake the amusement park sat on that the risk of discovery was minimal, but all the same Atsushi kept a nervous eye out for movement. “If you were so worried about being caught,” Akutagawa said breathlessly, leg hiked over Atsushi’s hip and shoulders pressed to the bark of the large old tree, “you wouldn’t have initiated.”

“I wasn’t thinking about that,” Atsushi said distractedly, hands shifting back to Akutagawa’s hips, holding him tight and keeping him pressed back into the tree. “I wasn’t thinking at all, really, I just really, really wanted to kiss you.”

Akutagawa wet his lips and groaned softly; his hand curled in Atsushi’s shirt. “You’ve done more than just kiss me,” he grunted, but he wasn’t chastising, just stating a fact that he was clearly, clearly enjoying. He grunted again and let out a soft little groan as Atsushi changed his stance, which changed the way his cock was pressed into Akutagawa’s walls.

“It’s not my fault you looked so cute coming off that roller coaster,” Atsushi was panting now, bouncing Akutagawa slightly on his dick, half grinding and half thrusting. “Your hair was all silly and you were smiling, what was I supposed to do?”

“You were supposed to kiss me, ah,” Akutagawa’s legs tightened on his sides. “There.”

 “There?” Atsushi found the spot again and honed in on it, and they were lost in each other, shortened breaths and soft moans shared between them. Akutagawa’s mouth stayed open as he panted, hand tight on the back of Atsushi’s neck, and Atsushi’s eyes were locked on his, so close, so close—

In the distance, they both could hear the roar of the crowds and, a split second later, thunder in the night as the fireworks show began in earnest. The brilliant colors lit them up even hidden as they were in the tight cluster of trees, golds and reds and greens dappling Akutagawa’s skin; and he laughed, catching Atsushi’s shirt in both hands and pulling him into a kiss as they rocked together.

“Come on,” Akutagawa moaned against his mouth and Atsushi shifted his grip, one arm now braced against the tree, Akutagawa pressed nearly double as he slammed in again and again, until Akutagawa was sobbing his name, fingers crooked into claws and digging into Atsushi’s skin through his shirt.

Atsushi’s breath was harsh against Akutagawa’s ear, “Ryuunosuke, Ryuuno—ah, fuck…”

Akutagawa shuddered, Atsushi throbbing inside; all the tension built up and released. He could feel his heartbeat so fast, their chests nearly together; finally, Atsushi exhaled low and long.

“Sorry,” he managed, panting hoarsely into Akutagawa’s ear, the flush on his skin drowned out by the faint echoes of color bursting from the sky above. “I didn’t pull out.”

Akutagawa’s fingers tightened on the back of his skull for just a moment before releasing, his heart beating nearly as fast. “You must take responsibility for cleanup then,” he said, finally, and Atsushi laughed, nuzzling his face and kissing him again before pulling out with a wet noise.

“I can handle that,” he said, going smoothly to his knees in front of the wobbly-legged Akutagawa. He let Akutagawa support himself with a leg thrown over his shoulders, and Akutagawa twisted both his hands in Atsushi’s hair as he slid his fingers through his own mess before beginning to clean him.

Akutagawa watched the fireworks through the trees, as the show finally drew to a dramatic finale. “They’ll be looking for us,” he said idly, shuddering as Atsushi’s fingers thrust in deep, then his breath slid over Akutagawa’s sensitive dick.

“Let them look, I’m not done here.”

#bungou stray dogs #kinktober #shin soukoku #sskk #lemony fresh

[candied-peach]

ao3: "seize the night" rating: T warnings: romantic LAMP, epileptic seizure clusters, hospital visits, medication, needles mention, food mention, unsanitary mention genre: hurt/comfort description: Virgil sees something flashy. Then the world is whisked away.

The first thing Virgil realizes is that he can't breathe.

Then he realizes that all he can hear is great, swooping gasps of breath lodged in his ears, but it doesn't sound like it's coming from him. He's blurry and disoriented and painfully confused as the room fills up with people he doesn't know, but look official. They keep asking him questions, but he's having a hard time answering. Everything aches, especially his right side. His mouth is dry.

They ask him to stand up. He does. They ask him to step with his right foot. He goes left. Everything is spinning in his head. It feels like it's on fire, like static electricity is crawling through it. He keeps twitching as he manages to sit in the stair chair. He prays he won't have another seizure coming up the stairs. Disjointed thoughts swirl in his brain as they carry him. He is right.

Instead, he has one as they transfer him to the stretcher, body jerking and twisting to one side. It hurts when he comes to again, awareness slowly coalescing. He stares up at the lights on the top of the ambulance as the paramedics talk around him, securing him for transport. He wants his boyfriends. He wants to be home. He doesn't want to be here, strapped into an antiseptic nightmare as the EMTs debate what vein to attempt an IV.

The needle briefly stings as it slips in, and Virgil's teeth sink into his bottom lip for just a moment. His thoughts are scrambled. He doesn't- he can't-what-

His body convulses, eyes staring unseeing at the top of the ambulance ceiling. It hurts. Everything hurts, his muscles jerking without conscious will or control. His breath comes in short, pained grunts as he desperately tries to breathe through it.

Awareness irises back in. The paramedic is giving him Ativan. They discuss the proper dose, but Virgil doesn't really understand what's going on. 

"What happened?" He manages to ask. They reassure him. He still doesn't know where Roman or Logan or Patton are. He vaguely remembers the idea of them following to the hospital. Did they? Are they going to come with him? They wouldn't leave him, would they?

Jostled as they come to a stop, Virgil is eased out of the ambulance and swiftly finds himself in a room, hooked up to what feels like a billion things. They tell him to stay still, so they can check his heart, and he obeys. He feels very sleepy all of a sudden. And he has to pee. He is suddenly dying to pee, but there's no one to ask, and his bed is now bracketed with yellow foam.

It feels like forever before Roman slips in.

"They won't let us all back here," is the first thing he says, and Virgil sags in disappointment, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. He's still so relieved to see Roman, he has no words. The nurses are so nice, and the doctor was alright too, but he wants to see his loves.

"I'm sorry," Virgil mumbles. "I'm sorry 'bout-" He gestures vaguely around himself.

"No, darling," Roman says. "Don't apologize. You've done nothing wrong." He lifts a bag. "Brought your stuff. Including a phone charger, just in case they keep you overnight."

"Doesn't seem like they will," Virgil says. "The uh, the stuff they gave me in the ambulance helped."

Roman's face softens.

"Good," he says, soft but heartfelt.

"I am dying to pee," Virgil says suddenly, squirming in the bed. "Is there any way-"

"Oh, there's a call button, darling," Roman says, lifting something Virgil didn't even notice and asking for someone to come to the room. 

"They didn't tell me," Virgil says plaintively. "And the bed's old anyway- I didn't know."

"It's okay," Roman reassures him. Virgil has to pee in a cup, but at least he no longer feels like his kidneys are going to explode. It's not long before he's discharged with a sheaf of instructions. Patton and Logan crowd him in the waiting room, giving him a welcome boost of reassurance and love. Roman scoops him up, carrying him out to the car where he half dozes, half chatters.

"Want a treat," he murmurs. "Went to the ER. Wanna treat."

"Of course, darling," Roman reassures him. "Would the gas station be okay?"

"Yeah," Virgil agrees. By the time they reach home, he's set up with a soft pretzel and slushie. He nearly falls over himself as they situate him on the couch, but his brain is clearer than he's felt all night, despite the Ativan swimming through his veins.

"Love you," Roman murmurs in his ear. "Come on, sweetheart, let's get you to bed."

"Kay," Virgil mumbles as he finishes his soft pretzel. Logan presses a kiss to the top of his head and Patton speckles kisses across his cheeks.

"You'll feel better after some sleep," Patton assures him. "Don't worry, darling."

"We'll be right here," Logan promises. Virgil yawns, exhausted.

"Love you," he mumbles. "Love y'all so much."

"Love you, too, Virgil," are the last fading words Virgil hears before sleep overtakes him.

#🍬.txt #sanders sides #romantic lamp #virgil sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #virgil #roman #logan #patton #sanders sides fanfiction #📚 #ok to rb #peach writes

[asexualsoup]

So I don't really write fan fiction and I never planned to but here we are I guess lol 😅

**Cannot emphasize enough that this is a WIP. It's not finished lol. But if you yell at me enough I probably will finish it.**

----------------------------------------------------------

Remember That I Love You

Juno Steel/Peter Nureyev

Post Season 4

So far, everything had gone exactly to plan. Rita had hacked the pharmacorps’ computers and, from the safety of the Ruby 7’s driver’s seat, had set enough fires across the compound to draw most of the guards exactly where she wanted them. No matter how many times Juno watched her do this, he always found himself in awe of how easy it all was for her. Like a kid with a magnet drawing little shapes in metal sand.

Once the guards had been dispersed, it was just a matter of using their stolen map and the Ruby’s own scans to figure out exactly where they needed to go. That’s where Juno came in.

“There,” he said, pointing to a cluster of moving dots on the Ruby's screen. Taking the hint, the Ruby 7 zoomed its three-dimensional map onto a hallway at the bottom of the complex. “That’s where we’ll find him.”

“You sure, Mista Steel?” Rita asked, unconvinced. “How can you be so sure? We only get one shot at this, so you gotta be exactly right—”

“I know, Rita. You don’t need to remind me. When the fires went off, the executives left their meeting and ran down to this hallway. The Ruby’s showing them all leaving the hallway, but they’re just phasing through a wall. There are no rooms marked there on the map. The Ruby’s scan isn’t faulty, so that means—”

“A safe room!” Rita finished. Her eyes were wide behind her glasses. “That’s so cool! And there’s a buncha them, too, from the look of it. A whole row of safe rooms! How can we be sure which one is his?”

“Ruby?” Juno said with a smile. “You know what to do.”

It was over in seconds. The Ruby had scanned their target so many times, it could recognize him instantly, even from this distance. Juno didn’t fully understand it either, but he knew he could trust the Ruby to be accurate. It had helped him find Rita on that asteroid, after all.

As soon as it found him, it sang a triumphant little tune.

“Good job, Ruby,” Juno said. “Send that scan to my comms. I’m heading in. Let’s go get Nureyev out once and for all.”

* * *

Juno moved quickly through the compound, listening and reacting to Rita’s directions in his ear every step of the way. With her help, he avoided all the patrolling guards long enough to sneak into one of the server rooms she hadn’t set ablaze.

Keeping his voice low just in case, he asked her, “You sure the code you’ve put on this chip will eliminate his debt?”

"And all his accounts and bio-records, yeah, yeah," her voice chirped in his earpiece. He chuckled, imagining the way she was rolling her eyes at him. "You’ve asked me that about a hundred times, Mista Steel. It’ll work. Trust me."

“Like you said, we’ve only got one shot at this. It’s gotta be flawless.”

"We’re Aurinkos, boss. It don’t gotta be flawless to be successful."

“Yeah, well,” Juno said, feeling that old reliable flicker of nerves and self-doubt in his gut. “I’d rather have both, if I’m honest.”

With Rita’s assistance, he inserted the chip. The computers beeped and popped for a bit until Rita finally squeaked again.

"That's done it, boss. You can take the chip out now."

Juno did as she said, slipping it back into his pants pocket. "Great," he said. "Now it's just the hard part. Getting to him, taking out the guards, and then the escape." He sighed, suddenly feeling his age. "No biggie."

"It'll be fine, Mista Steel," Rita said. "Once you find him, you won't be alone in there anymore. You'll have him to help you with those last two steps. And Mista Nureyev has always been good at fighting guards and sneakin' outta places. It’ll be fine!"

"Still weird hearing you call him that. Even on private comms. But you make a good point. Once I find him…."

Juno trailed off, his mouth feeling suddenly very dry. He hadn't been this close to Nureyev in months, not since he'd smelled his cologne at Aurinko Permanent Corrections. The realization sent a torrent of butterflies through his stomach: fear, panic, and a good amount of excitement too.

Nureyev was in the building. And within minutes, he'd be in Juno's arms. Safe and sound at last and with his whole life ahead of him. The future at his nimble fingertips.

It was the same gift he'd promised to Slip Jackson all those years ago. And while Nureyev couldn't give that future to Slip in the end, Juno could make sure Nureyev got it now.

So, with a deep breath to swallow his panic down, Juno pressed on to the next phase of the plan.

* * *

Juno had taken out so many guards over the course of his career that a few localized in one closed off room should be no problem at all. And with all the tricks he’d picked up from Nureyev during their year of crime together, they wouldn’t know what hit them.

He crawled on his belly through the vents, Rita and the Ruby still guiding him around every corner, until finally he peered through a grate into the room in question.

As soon as he saw Nureyev, he felt his heart fly into his throat. He was sitting in a chair against the wall, looking like a prisoner in that tiny room with four armed guards around him.

But that wasn't what made Juno so upset. Nureyev… didn't look like himself. He was thinner than the last time they'd seen each other. Paler, too, like he hadn't seen the sun in weeks. He was still dressed to the nines and covered in makeup, but none of that could hide the new slump in his posture and the deadened look behind his eyes.

As wonderful as it was to see him again, it was frightening to see how only half a year away had changed him.

That ended here and now.

In one hand, Juno held his blaster. And in the other, he held a small pebble-like ball. Another trick he'd picked up from Nureyev.

Slipping the ball through the grate, he watched as it hit the floor and exploded into vapor, instantly surrounding the guards in a thick curtain of smoke. As the guards coughed and sputtered and shouted to each other, he kicked open the grate and dropped himself into the room.

Darting out of the range of the smoke, he planted his feet firmly in front of Nureyev.

“Juno?” came that beautiful voice from behind him, the one that made his heart flutter.

“Yeah, yeah, you can swoon into my arms later,” he said. And even though he was joking, he wanted nothing more. “Whatever you’ve got to use against these guys, now’s the time to use it.”

“But, Juno, I—”

Whatever Nureyev was about to say would have to wait. The guards had finally collected themselves and were starting to stumble out of the smoke, blasters raised and searching for a target.

Ducking beneath the nearby table, Juno sent a pair of stun blasts out between its legs, completely incapacitating the first two guards he saw.

“I see you haven’t lost your touch, dear detective,” Nureyev said, sliding in beside Juno. “Shall we take this to the next level?”

“Thought you’d never ask.”

It was a maneuver they’d learned together during their time on the Carte Blanche. That time felt like so long ago now, and yet Nureyev fell into position as smoothly and easily as if they’d practiced it only yesterday. Juno would have to thank Buddy for those lessons later, among a million other things.

Grabbing opposite ends of the table, they swung its legs out from under it and in one fluid motion, launched it flat-side first into the smoke. Both of the remaining guards grunted in pain as they were struck, and somewhere within the haze, they both collapsed under the weight of the table.

“You truly are a sharpshooter, aren’t you?” Nureyev said as he leaped to his feet again and reached out a hand to help Juno. “You hit them both even through all that fog.”

“Hey, it was a big table,” Juno said, taking that proffered hand. “And anyway, you’re just as likely to—”

But his words were cut off. As soon as he’d gotten to his feet, Nureyev’s mouth had found his. The kiss was hard, desperate, pressing his lips almost painfully against his teeth. But it was exactly what they both needed after all that time apart. Juno couldn’t help the moan that escaped his throat, and his hands found Nureyev’s collar, pulling him in even closer.

Once they’d separated, Nureyev narrowed his eyes. “I told you not to come after me.”

“You can’t tell me what to do,” Juno said, hopping up to swiftly kiss Nureyev’s lips again.

“I suppose not. Though we’ll definitely have words about this later. A lot of words.”

Nureyev released him and without another word, flew gracefully into the depths of the smoke. Still a little awestruck, Juno found his feet again and moved to follow him.

Squinting through the fog, he peered around quietly for any sign of the two guards they’d knocked down. The table was easy enough to find, its legs splayed like a dead spider on its back. But the two guards that it had hit? Those were a lot harder to spot. And so was Nureyev.

Juno slunk low to the floor, crouched near the table’s legs and stared into the surrounding fog for any sign of movement. It only took a minute for him to spot something. A glint of metal in the fog. He stared in its direction, trying to find it again, but couldn't.

Instead, when a guard finally did appear in the smoke, it was to his far left. They stumbled near him, their shirt pulled high over their mouth and nose. They made eye contact with Juno, who already had his blaster raised, but before either of them could make a move, a dark heel swung out from the fog and hit the guard right in the back of the head, knocking them out cold. With another glint of metal, Nureyev emerged from the smoke and crouched at Juno’s side once again.

“That was brutal,” Juno whispered. “I always forget you can kick that high.”

“So did they, apparently.”

“You might want to take off your jewelry before we handle that other guard, Nureyev. I can see it shining through the fog.”

For the first time since their reunion, something made Nureyev pause. “Juno… there’s something that you should—”

“Let’s deal with the other guard first, Nureyev. Do you have any idea where they are?”

“Juno, I—”

But whatever Nureyev was going to say, it was cut off by the cracking sound of a blaster shot. Nureyev gasped and flew backward, hitting the ground hard.

“Nureyev!” Juno shouted before he could stop himself.

Flying onto his feet, he whipped around and pointed his blaster in the direction the shot had come from. The fourth and final guard stood there, grinning through the smoke. Her blaster was pointed right at Juno’s head.

“Really?” Juno gasped, trying desperately to think straight through the panic now flooding his brain. “You sneak up behind me and decide to shoot your own guy instead?”

“I was following my orders, lady,” she said darkly, her hand flexing against the trigger. Ready to send another laser directly through Juno’s brain.

He wasn’t going to give her the chance. With one hand, he grabbed her wrist and twisted, sending her laser up to the ceiling. Bringing around his own blaster, he struck her hard across the face, sending her sprawling to the floor where his own shot struck her right in the chest a second later. Her eyes went hazy as the stun wave overtook her body, and then she closed her eyes, unconscious.

Breathing heavily, Juno dropped his gun and rushed to Nureyev’s side. Nureyev was panting hard, one hand over his face. His hands were shaking.

“Goddammit, Nureyev. No,” Juno wept, searching Nureyev’s body with his hands. “No no no. Where did they hit you? Oh, goddammit.”

But no matter where he looked, he didn’t find any blood. All he could find was a small laser burn on the front of Nureyev’s shirt.

“It was just a stun blast,” he said, relief flooding him once more. “You’re fine. You’re gonna be fine.”

But as Nureyev gave another groan of pain, Juno felt his relief crack once more.

“N… Nureyev? Come on. Snap out of it.”

Nureyev groaned again, his mouth twisting in pain and all four of his limbs starting to tremble. The fingers by his forehead curled, as if trying to grasp at something, and between them, Juno could see that glint of metal again. It was only then that Juno realized Nureyev wasn’t wearing any jewelry. No rings, no earrings.

Nothing but whatever was shining on his temple.

Grabbing Nureyev’s hand, he slowly pulled it away.

His stomach dropped. “Nureyev… no… please, no… Is that a…?”

Nureyev groaned again and Juno swore he could hear the pops of electricity coming from it.

Because right there, stuck on Nureyev’s temple, was a little gray chip. Smaller than the Theia Soul had been, but otherwise the same.

“Goddammit. Nureyev, what do I do?” Juno asked desperately.

In response, Nureyev cried out as the chip zapped him again, and this time, Juno actually saw the skin beginning to sizzle around it.

He fumbled for his comms, knowing somewhere in the back of his panicked mind that if anyone could fix this, it would be Rita. But a second later, as Nureyev’s body went slack, Juno’s heart stopped.

Nureyev’s eyes peered up to meet his, bleary and unfocused. Lines of blood began to form around the edges of the chip.

“Nureyev?” Juno asked breathlessly.

“Ju…no…” was all the man managed to say before his eyes closed and unconsciousness claimed him too.

(to be continued?)

#obviously not finished lol #tpp #the penumbra podcast #penumbra podcast #juno steel #junoverse #peter nureyev #jupeter #tpp fanfic #wip #ladyshakesqueer #asexualsoup

[capo-cino]

finished the thumbnail sketch last night i think it’s cool

also there’s a long fuckin description below so like, yeah its about the phobia pit

it started out as me jotting down ideas for this concept but then it became a whole ass short story that is probably never going to be professionally written because i don’t like to write but basically:

i like to think that the pit doesn’t have an actual bottom, and when you think you’ve reached it, when the pit gradually gets narrower and you’re completely surrounded by darkness at that point, there’s a hole that you could fall through and when you do, you fall out of the entire pit itself and you don’t stop falling, ever. you’re surrounded by absolutely nothing, not sure if it’s darkness or a white void when you fall through, all i can say is that you’re falling within nothingness.

as for the pit itself i figured that the beginning or the top of the pit would have objects relating to the most common phobias, including those that may be prominent in some cultures but rarely seen in others, and as you go further down, the phobias would get weirder or just more obscure, and even further below, the surroundings become more dim and darker and the objects either gradually begin to disappear or scattered

but hey vex has glowing eyes and shit he and sackboy will be fine i think

jokes aside i imagine that vex is more excited about what lies at the near bottom of the pit; where from the top view, it’s a tiny black circle

i did kinda headcanon his one fear; nothingness, or specifically being surrounded by literally nothing you can see, hear or feel.

but that he still wants to venture below where it looks dark because hes expecting something to be there and he’ll be fine because his face literally glows. but lmao xd

sackboy on the other hand is cautious, but also fascinated by the clustered surroundings at the start of the pit; some objects resembling more obvious/common phobias may startle him, but seeing every other object representing more weirder/obscure phobias are still captivating to him.

at the very least, his surroundings at that point keep his eyes entertained and also, he’s not by himself.

vex is taking note of how absorbed sackboy is in the chaotic environment (and would use some of the objects to startle him for shits and giggles)

sackboy is also noticeably more distanced from vex while they’re still at the top of the pit

as they make their way further below, the objects begin to become more abstracted and/or confusing to look at. the environment becomes less vibrant; any color within it would be muted or dull. imagine the color palette for a lot of liminal space images.

speaking of space, even though the pit becomes narrower, the objects become more eerily spread out instead of being all clustered together and it doesn’t quite look or feel like the pit’s even gotten thinner. it’s the literal opposite if anything.

sackboy goes from mesmerized to visibly unsettled of how empty (and also dim) the surroundings become and clings onto vex a little more.

vex is confused and bewildered by how empty everything’s become. hes also mildly annoyed by how fast (to him) sackboy lost his sense of curiosity and is nudging at his cape, desperately signaling that they should go back

but sackers’ pleas are not listened to because he’s venturing with vex

everything below that liminal space point becomes more difficult (and eventually impossible) to see. vex’s glowing face heavily dims, and as soon as sackboy notices, he quickly climbs up vex and makes his way into one of the pockets on his vest. hes batshit terrified and his only comfort is feeling the fabric of the pocket surrounding him. it’s better than the cold hard ground amidst the darkness.

vex is actually disturbed now.

at this point he can’t see or feel anything else but the ground getting steeper and sackboy shaking like a leaf in one of his pockets. any light he tries to conjure (electric sparks, portals, etc.) don’t illuminate at all.

oh yeah remember that part about the hole at the very bottom of the pit that leads to absolutely nowhere and you would fall forever if you just fell through it

well vex falls down. almost. his hands just barely catch the edge of the ground, and in the few seconds that his legs were dangling and was startled to near death, he remembers he can fly.

so his literal flight response activates and he heads straight back upwards through the darkness. from how fast he was flying, it takes him around 20 seconds tops to reach the,, top.

the sun’s just starting to rise.

vex is on the soft ground, shaking.

sackboy slowly crawls out of the pocket and falls to the ground. before he crawls any further, vex quickly snatches sackboy close to his face with both hands, still shaking.

why did this need to be involved with saba? idk lol

side edit: i think its funny that if you told vex at the top of the pit that there was legitimately nothing at the bottom, he would just tell you to shut the fuck up and then he discovers, nearly possibly dying at doing so, that there is legitimately nothing and his one fear is just down there now. although if this were more canonical, the game would probably hint that he does have a single fear, but will just never tell you what

imma go eat some leftover steak yummm

#little big planet #littlebigplanet #sackboy #sackboy a big adventure #saba #lbp #long ass fucking post of my life i don’t really like doing them but idk how to make this shorter either hummmm

[everybodyshusband]

picnic

mushy may ; day six !! (approx 750 words)

(oh! throwing a tag in @cirrus-ghoulette's general direction, because they came up with the pet-names that lus and mount call each other)

read under the cut or on ao3 :)

Cumulus stumbles along the path with her hands covering her eyes. Mountain’s soft grip around her bicep is her only guide up the path. She has no idea where they’re headed, only that Mountain told her to meet him in his greenhouse at 10am sharp, and now she’s been pulled along with her eyes closed and being told there’s some kind of surprise waiting for her.

“Can you just tell me where we’re going, Mount? Or at least let me open my eyes? I’m scared I’m going to trip…”

Mountain stops at her words, and she feels him turn around and place both of his hands on her cheeks. “It’s just a little further, ‘Lus, I promise. Is that alright?”

She hesitates but nods her head slowly—still keeping her eyes diligently closed—and is rewarded for it when Mountain gives her the lightest of kisses on the tip of her nose. She tilts her head up and tries her best to chase his lips with her own, wanting more, but he just chuckles and pulls further away.

“Later, button. When you open your eyes. Can’t have me catching you off guard with any surprise kisses while your eyes are closed, can we?” He takes a hold of her arm once again and begins leading her up the hill again.

After what seems like an eternity—although in reality, it’s probably barely three minutes—Mountain slows down once more and guides her until her feet hit some kind of rug; or maybe it’s a blanket?

“Are you ready?” He sounds nervous, and Cumulus can so easily picture the way he’s probably worrying his bottom lip in his teeth as he looks down at her. It’s adorable, really.

“Mhmm.”

“Okay, you can– Ah! No, wait!” He exclaims, making her yelp quietly. “I’ve gotta…” Suddenly, his front is pressed up against Cumulus’ back, and his hands are covering her eyes. “Okay, now we’re ready… Open your eyes, ‘Lus,” he whispers as he pulls his hands away from her eyes.

The first thing Cumulus notices is colour. Clusters upon clusters of bright, colourful wildflowers spilling down the hill they’re standing on and into the valley below, spanning out as far as her eyes can see. She’s so preoccupied by the dazzling array of nature in front of her that she doesn’t even notice the red and white chequered picnic blanket, or the basket surrounded by dainty crockery and glasses until Mountain gently tips her head down.

“Sweetheart,” she breathes out, turning to face Mountain. “You did all of this?”

Mountain nods shyly. “Do you like it?”

“Baby, I love it!” She flings herself into his arms and hugs him tightly, jumping up and down in excitement, doing her best to coordinate her excited bounces so that she can kiss him deeply at the same time. The angle’s off, and the fact that Mountain has to bend almost in half just to reach her lips doesn’t help, but it’s the thought that counts, she supposes.

“Come sit down?” Mountain fluffs one of the pillows he has resting on the blanket for her—Sathanas, he really thought of everything, didn’t he—and pours her a glass of something; she’s not sure what it is, but it’s bubbling as if it’s carbonated and there’s a slight blue tinge to it, it looks deliciously refreshing.

Once he’s given her the drink and he’s made sure she’s comfortable, Mountain moves to sit down across from her on the other side of the blanket, but Cumulus makes an indignant noise and pulls him back over towards her. “Sit next to me?”

Mountain can’t contain his smile, even if he tries. “‘Course, angel.” He sits down next to her—but not before he plucks a bright, yellow daisy from beside the blanket and tucks the blossom behind her ear, kissing her cheek and pulling away with a whispered confession of the joy that she provides to him every single day without even trying; she does her best not to tear up, but it’s a lost cause—and wraps his arms around her shoulders, holding her close to him. Cumulus closes her eyes and tips her head back against his chest, sighing contentedly.

She’s sure they’ll get around to eating the food eventually—especially since Mountain no doubt spent hours preparing this array of little snacks for them to share—but for now, Cumulus is more than happy to lean back into Mountain’s arms and be held close for a while.

#mushy may #for someone who said he'd never write het. i write a lot of het... #but they're just so CUTE i can't help it!! #husband ficlets #cumulus ghoulette #mountain ghoul #nameless ghouls #the band ghost

[cococaffeinated]

To Keep You, Part 3 (siren AU)

Recap: Part 1, Part 2 It's a drabble-comic mix for this part! My hands couldn't keep up with the story I had brewing and I didn't wanna put it off just cos I couldn't draw fast enough. Also, MC (the reader, you) has hair now. I know not everyone has medium-length hair, but it won in the polls I did outside the Tumblr app! Still, feel free to imagine how your own MC would look like though.

You stood still... Cautious as you watched the gargantuan sea siren dive back into the depths of the dark waters surrounding the cave's opening. It had clicked and chirped at you before going away. You still had no way of knowing what it was telling you. But you had a feeling it'd be back.

Without the light from the siren's lure, you were plunged into the darkness in its absence. You waited a good long moment before beginning your exploration, needing your eyes to adjust to the dark. Before their departure, the creature had pointed to a house and a fire pit further south of the cave... You could have been imagining it, but it seemed to be giving you something akin to a house tour. Despite everything, the thought in itself was funny. 'First things first, warmth and light should be a priority.' You thought as you shuffled over to the fire pit, using the damp cavern walls for guidance. Unfortunately, there was nothing around that you could use to start a fire. And with how damp you are, you didn't think trying your luck with clacking random stones together would be fruitful. Letting out a huff of determination, you blindly walked over to the rope ladder where you remembered seeing it a few moments ago when the cave was lit. It should lead to the cabin you saw earlier. It took a bit of doing... What with some of the rope steps missing from the lack of maintenance on top of it being dark... But eventually, you made it to the top of the tiny cliff, where the cabin stood. Breathless, you lay on your back for a moment. Your gaze wanders to study the area from where you lay. The cabin was simple, nothing grand. It looked sturdy despite its weather-worn look. There were no lit lights inside or outside, no sign of life. To the right of the cabin was a wooden chest. You chuckle to yourself. Thoughts of video games and lootable treasure items coming to the forefront of your mind. If sea monsters were real, you sure as hell hope this thing wasn't a mimic chest. Steeling your nerves, you stood up and made your way to the chest to investigate its contents.

You weren't about to question your stroke of extremely good luck.

Your eyes particularly zoomed in on the cluster of flint and steel in the chest, as well as the torches. While you didn't think you'd need a torch just yet, you were happy to have them handy in case you did. Reaching for the clothes in the neat pile of items, you admired the soft but sturdy material. Rifling through it, you found there were shoes tucked between the tunic shirt and the pants at the bottom.

"Stranger and stranger... If no one has lived here in years, how are all these here and in good condition?" you mutter to yourself. The chest was awfully well-equipped for someone who would happen upon it with nothing in hand. Just like you at the moment. Shaking your head, you focused on your first order of business. An outfit change. You took the clothes with you as you entered the cabin, lighting old lanterns as you went with flint and steel to illuminate the small living space.

Inside was a small bed off to one side, a wooden desk to the other, crates of boxes, and a cabinet. There wasn't much else to give the place personality... Ironically, this told you that whoever used to live here only used this place as a pit-stop at most. A half-way home. You laid out the clothes you had on the bed, covering your mouth and nose as dust floated upward from the slightest impact, before getting out of your wet suit. You slipped the tunic on first... it was soft and warm. And you were thankful that the pants it came with were just as comfortable to wear.

Making quick work of some spare linens you found in the cabinet, you made make-shift socks to cover your feet before stepping into the soft leather boots that came with the rest of your ensemble.

You wished you had a mirror to look yourself over but you felt good, at least. And more importantly, you were no longer cold and wet. Now that you were sure you weren't going to catch your death with a cold, you stepped back outside the cabin to take another good look inside the chest. "Let's see... There's a pouch of gold coins," you hummed as you put those to the side. You could always count them later. "If I manage to get out of here, they could be useful..." you mused to yourself. You next picked up the book, surprised by its weight. Turning it over this way and that, you found small little notes sticking out of the sides on varied segments of the book... It seemed like an almanac of sorts. Before you can crack it open, a sealed scroll letter catches your attention next. So you put down the book for now and gingerly peel open the sealed letter.

The book would need more time to study and internalize. The letter would at least be easier to digest, hopefully.

//TBC

#sirenau hibeam #cococaffeinatedarts #comics #drabble #x yn #x reader #not beta read #My writing skills are at best much like an amateur dungeon master trying to spin a story #Hope you all still enjoy this regardless~!