#fright hammer au

[hereissomething]

found this template on twutty a long time ago, the op name escapes me🫣

woe, drac faces upon yall🦇💨👋🧛🏻‍♂️

#hammer dracula #christopher lee #count dracula #fright hammer au #my roommate is dracula #expressions meme #blood #dractice #bat demon #mai art #phuzface1 #phuzface #the many flavors of angy drac #he just looks like that #replaced the bottom left two with annoyed and scheming bc they were “goofy” and “a bit wacky” previously #and drac very rarely even does silly #his silliness comes from his seriousness #like a cat

[orgyofthedamned]

i am writing the most pathetic, embarrassing dracula you will ever see in your life for this comic. get ready

#edibles blogging #fhau #fright hammer au

[untaemedqueen]

At Your Service

Escort!Jeongguk x CEO!Reader

Genre: Strangers to Lovers!AU, Angst, Fluff, Smut

Chapter 16.

Series Warnings (Will Be Updated): Angst, Fluff, Cold Heartedness, Emotional Trauma, Healing, Smut, Dark Humor

Namjoon isn't much of a talker the escort realized as they drove silently through the streets. The only semblance of sound was the old fifties music in the background that somehow fit the blonde haired man to a T.

The silence did however give Guk time to think. He realized after the first few minutes in the car that Joon was basically a steel vault that couldn't be pried open for anything. He's loyal to you. And while your ex can respect that, he still finds it irritating.

What must you be hiding?

What is going on?

How did you do a complete one eighty on him like this? He clearly hasn't done anything wrong. Unless loving you is the worst sin of man.

It didn't take long for the car to pull up to your community gates and as he slid down behind the front two seats of the car, his heart began to hammer thick and sickly within his chest.

You'll be furious to see him. He knows that. You went through so much effort to keep him away.

You're gonna yell and scream. You might even throw something.

But he just needs to see you. He needs an explanation, goddammit.

With the mere shake of his head, he waited patiently until the gates were open and the car crept on by the guard station.

"Get up," Namjoon announced, "We're here."

The blonde man carelessly opens the front door with your not so hidden key and it irritates Guk to no end knowing just how easily he does this. He's done this many times it seems.

The first thing your ex hears is screaming opera, it violents his senses and he almost out of instinct covers his ears.

Joon simply rolls his eyes, ushering in the escort and folding his arms.

Your co-worker leans in just close enough to be able to shout in your ex-boyfriend's ear.

"Go upstairs and turn down the music, it's how she knows someone's here!" he hollers.

When Jeongguk pulls away, Namjoon is already turning on his heel to go out to the garden, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

How many times has the escort rushed up these familiar marble stairs? How many times has his heart pounded, echoing through his chest with radiant joy to turn down the music and get your attention?

It won't be the same. You'll come out to see who it is and when you actually see it's him, you're gonna go bananas.

The escort's feet are heavy as he moves, contemplation enveloping him with little care.

Just to be able to see you again… God, he can't even truly process his excitement.

He doesn't know what emotion he's feeling the strongest but as his foot hits the first step of the stairs… Fright wins.

His skin begins to sing with goosebumps and he combs his fingers through his hair like some sort of nervous tick.

The opera doesn't seem to help, if anything it makes the pounding of his heart times perfectly with each screech of vocals.

He takes a shaky breath, gripping onto the railing with enough force to crush mere metal.

His feet are sluggish and heavy but he ascends nonetheless.

Just knowing in a mere minute he will see you again, blooms the butterflies in his stomach once more.

Finally, he's on the second floor and Guk has to wipe his sweaty hands on his black jeans.

"Y/N," he hisses under his breath, reaching for the sound system.

With his heart thumping in his ears, he lowers the music and he turns accordingly to the long hallway of doors.

There's a moment of waiting that seems like it's forever until you emerge from the office he once helped furnish.

Your eyes are on the floor until they slowly raise to take in the escort in his entirety.

You're wearing an old hoodie of his, it's baggy on you with colorful letters of the alphabet stitched haphazardly onto the white fabric. It was always one of your favorites, you even voiced it to him the day before sending him away.

Your eyes become vulnerable and your nostrils flare as if you're trying to quell your need to burst out in tears. It's almost as if you're looking at a ghost.

Standing just feet away from you is a man with such love and adoration still present on his face.

"Y/N," Guk breathes, swallowing thickly.

He expects the anger, the shouting, the random objects thrown at him. But you simply walk back into the office.

"Y/N?" he inquires again.

His feet move on their own and within seconds he's standing in the doorway as you lay down on the couch.

You simply stare lifelessly at the carpet, gripping the teddy bear he bought you within your arms.

Suddenly all that fear and all the anxiety melts away within him and he sits down on the carpet before you silently.

Guk just stares at you, taking in every inch of your tired face. He memorizes the way your eyes close and the way your bottom lip tucks between your teeth to peel away skin nervously.

"Hi, sweetheart," he whispers softly, leaning back on his hands and watching how your knees draw inward into a fetal position.

When you hear his voice so clearly, your eyes squeeze shut.

Tears well up at the sides and coast down your cheeks. Your nose becomes darker and redder with raw emotion causing you to sniffle helplessly.

All the confusion and all the angry questions he has simply melt into concern. He knows now that he will sit with you for hours on end without any care for his real self. You don't even need to speak, just being close to you is enough.

But he does decide to say the three words that he never told you aloud. He needs to tell them to you while you're awake because even if you do end up sending him away again at least you'll know.

"I love you," Guk whispers.

Your tears become faster, your soft cries become louder, almost wails and you throw yourself off of the couch to hold him needily.

He opens his arms for you, burying his face in your hair as you hug him tightly.

The escort's eyes burn at the raw emotion and he sobs softly hugging you with all the strength he can muster.

All of the pain, all the sorrow, all the confusion, it pours out of him in wet, salty fat tears.

"Y/N," he cries loudly, squeezing his eyes shut as he takes in the familiar scent of cherry blossoms from your hair.

You bury your face into his neck then, not wanting to let him go ever again.

You've needed him so much over the past month and you know that sending him away is the worst thing you could have ever done.

"I love you," you whimper softly.

Even over his cries he hears those words and he looks up at the ceiling as his body racks harder with emotion.

Jeongguk wasn't expecting this. He wasn't expecting this to be so easy and heartfelt but maybe the month away from him has changed you in some way.

It feels like forever and a simple second that he holds you tightly on the black Persian rug but when you pull away he gets the sudden fear that you're going to tell him to leave.

"Don't send me away," he begs, cupping your face with warm hands, "I love you, baby. Don't leave me again. Tell me what's going on. Let me help you."

You can see the fright in his eyes, darting back and forth with shaky pupils as he looks up at you.

You're slow to stand up and he sits up accordingly, dragging his fingers over his wet, tear streaked cheeks.

You seem to contemplate his words for a mere moment and when you extend a hand to him, he takes it immediately.

"Baby?" he inquires softly, following you out of the office.

The opera seems to echo off the hallways walls as you continue down toward rooms Guk knows to be empty.

When you stop in front of one of the rooms at the far end of the hallway, you simply fold your arms and nod towards the door.

"What is it?" he inquires, grabbing ahold of the door handle.

You simply nod again, turning your back to the sight of it when he begins to crack it open.

His eyebrows furrow and he enters the room with his breath caught in his throat.

As he steps inside the multitude of boxes makes his eyebrow flicker up and he inspects them as he gets closer.

The words stamped on the sides of the boxes with black outlinings show exactly what's inside and he has to prop himself upright on one of the large sturdier boxes because his knees almost give out at the sight.

He opens his mouth to call your name but only a sob can breach past his lips. And all over again he's an emotional mess.

He cries softly, slowly setting himself down on the floor.

The boxes for the crib and the changing table begin to blur before his eyes and when he turns to the doorway he sees you leaning against the door jamb with hopelessness etched all over your face.

Within an instant, he springs up onto his feet. The escort barrels over towards you, grasping your face between both hands and smothering you with a deep kiss that seems to make even your frigid stance go soft.

Guk cries against your lips, hugging you closely to his body and for once you're really truly frozen in place.

Then once the shock begins to dissipate, a ball of fresh flaring anger forms inside of the man you love. He pulls back just far enough to narrow his eyes at you.

"Don't you dare ever send me away again, do you hear me? Don't you dare make decisions for our baby by yourself," he hisses, pressing his forehead to yours.

Just hearing the words you've tried so hard to ignore makes you shiver and you can only nod against him sullenly.

Jeon Jeongguk knows you. He probably knows you better than your own self at this point and he speaks every word clearly to calm any nervousness in your heart.

"Yes, this baby is early for us. Yes, we didn't plan this but we didn't do anything to stop it either. I don't love you less because you're pregnant with my child. I'm not angry that you're pregnant. You don't get to send me away because you're fucking scared. Do you understand me? You don't get to make decisions like that on your own. You fucking know how much I love you. I wanna spend the rest of my life with you," Guk enunciates, staring deeply into your eyes.

When your eyes flutter shut, he clicks his teeth sternly.

"C'mere," he whispers, pulling you back into his loving embrace.

Did he think he would be having a child? No.

Did he want children right at this exact moment? Not really.

But does he still love you and this baby more than anything in the world? Always, yes.

"I'm sorry," you breathe into his leather jacket.

He shakes his head softly, laying his cheek on your hair. "Don't be sorry."

"I'm scared," you mumble.

"So am I," he replies honestly, drifting his fingers over your back, "But we're gonna do this and we're gonna be such good parents."

You can only sigh then, letting his words thrust the reality you've been avoiding for a month back into your bones.

"Do you have a picture of my baby or what?" Guk asks, pulling away to give you a smile.

"Yeah," you bleat, looking over the room.

"Well show me," he chuckles, wrapping his arm around your shoulders.

The thing you adore about Guk is how understanding and immediately willing he is to take any situation on his shoulders.

He's already come to terms with this while for this whole month you've barely been able to process what the doctor told you.

You've been scared of Guk, scared of yourself, scared of anything and everything because it's so far out of your comfort zone.

But now, with him being supportive, you might just have a sliver of hope blooming within the recesses of your chest.

He takes your hand, intertwining your fingers gently as you lead him back down the hallway towards the bedroom you once shared.

"Am I moving in or do you want to co-parent separately?" Jeongguk asks, looking around the mansion that hasn't changed at all.

You stop in your tracks, almost confused by his question. There are so many things that have to get sorted out and you've been hiding away from them all.

"Y-You can move in," you breathe, looking back at him.

You don't want to do this without him. Even though it was bitchy enough that you left him without a leg to stand on for the past thirty days.

"Okay, good," he whispers, kissing your forehead.

"And we c-can get married," you suggest softly, looking down at your feet.

"I'm not marrying you with that kind of proposal," he teases, hooking his arm around your waist and pulling you close, "Where's you on one knee with my engagement ring? You don't even have to give me a ring. Where's my protein bar?"

For the first time in a month you find yourself laughing and Guk's smile at the sound says it all. He's really in this with you. He's really here forever.

"I don't have either," you sigh.

"Well, I'm gonna have to change that. Before I even move in I need a stock of protein bars to keep me satisfied," he chuckles, pulling you towards the bedroom.

"How's Hawking?" you inquire, stepping into the bedroom.

"He misses you, misses your cuddles. Like me," the escort says truthfully, sitting down on your bed and laying back.

"He can move in too," you offer sweetly.

Guk tilts his head to you, watching as you open up the ornate black side drawer. When you pull out a thick picture his throat becomes terse and he can only swallow thickly to try and relieve it.

He opens up his hands to you, waiting patiently as you scurry over.

The escort taps his thighs, waiting for you to straddle him like all those times before you were gone from his side. You crawl over him, laying the picture on his chest and looking down nervously.

When he picks up the picture, he can only take a sharp breath between his teeth from the shock.

The baby is so small in the photo, he almost has to squint to see it. But it's there, as plain as day in black and white.

"Jesus Christ," he croaks out, drifting his thumb over the small little life form in the picture.

When he looks back up at you again, he can see your glassy eyes once more and he immediately coddles you. Sitting up, he wraps his arms around you tightly, pressing his lips to your temple.

"We're gonna be just fine, baby. I promise. I love you and you love me and we're gonna love our baby and do our best," the escort whispers, pressing his forehead to yours.

You can only nod childishly, sniffling softly at his words.

He lays back down, pulling at the hem of his sweatshirt you adorn. His hands coast over your skin, settling on your sides and he nods to you. "Take it off, lemme see my baby."

Just his words send such emotion through you and you comply within seconds. Taking off the fabric, there's no real change to your body so far but Guk knows you so intimately that he can tell you're swollen.

He lays you down softly, pecking your lips sweetly as if to assure you it's okay.

"You look beautiful," he avows, kissing down your stomach and your hands clench nervously at the feeling.

Guk opens your hands with his, intertwining them gently and when he reaches your womb an unexpected sob tears through him. He didn't even know he was ready to cry again until he just does.

He presses his trembling lips to your womb and you simply relax beneath him.

His eyes squeeze shut and he can only let out a shaky sigh.

Your body is warm beneath him and soft like the first day he ever got to touch you. And he knows he will never have a more intense love than this right here before him.

"I love you," he says simply, looking up at you and drying his eyes with the back of his hand.

"I love you, too," you reply, swallowing thickly.

He pulls away just a fraction, looking down at your stomach that shows no signs of change yet and he smiles. "And I love this kid."

You give him a warm smile, the apology you want to relay thick on your tongue. Jeongguk can see it in your eyes and he simply wrinkles his nose sweetly at you.

"Don't," he whispers, crawling up the bed to pull you into his arms, "We just forget it. Yeah? We just forget and move on. We look to the future now."

You cuddle up against him, closing your eyes and hugging him around the waist, clinging to him.

"It's gonna be a boy," he mumbles, closing his eyes.

"You think so?" you whisper.

"Oh yeah, I can't handle a little girl like you. She's gonna hold my heart and make me spoil her to no end," the escort laughs, leaning back against the headboard.

Even though the month apart was tortuous and strained, now that you're together again it's almost like it never happened. You don't want it to happen again and even if you have to change your whole being to make sure you're ready… You will.

<;- Last Chapter Next Chapter ->

#at your service #chapter 16 #chap 16 #bts smut #jungkook fic #jungkook #jeongguk #jeon jungkook #jeon jeongguk #bts #bts fic #jeongguk smut #jungkook smut

[envihellbender]

John and Martin going to buy puppy Tim

Characters: Jonathon Sims, Martin Blackwood, Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives)

Content: Human pet AU, parental abuse and neglect

—

PUPPYWHORE FOR SALE

INTACT DOGBOY

25 YEARS OLD

PERFECT AS A PLEASURE TOY, ALREADY BROKEN IN BUT VERY SKILLED

ANSWERS TO TIM

£2000 OR BEST OFFER

There is a photograph of a terrifyingly skinny pale human canine, his dirty blond hair was tangled almost making his ears unnoticeable. He was curled up asleep on an unkempt lawn, a rope around his neck was tied to a thick wooden stake that had been hammered into the ground. He was naked except for some white, greying from age briefs. He was bruised and scarred. His long thick tail that was varying shades of blond and brown curled up with his legs.

Martin was rereading the advert as they drove to the address in the East End of London that Wes Stoker (owner and possible father of Tim) had given them. When they offered £2000 upfront, Wes hadn’t even questioned what they wanted him for. He didn’t ask for any further information, when Martin had said he and his boyfriend wished to purchase him (the phrasing of which made Martin feel sick to his stomach) all Wes had send in return is “so long as you’ve got the cash I don’t care what you fags do with him.”

“Martin! I need Directions,” John all but shouted, throwing Martin out of his racing, spiralling thoughts.

“Oh. Sorry. Right,” Martin mumbled opening Google Maps.

“It’s fine. But I asked five times.” John was attempting to be sympathetic, ever since they’d seen the terrifying advert they’d both been on edge.

“Right I’m just… nervous. We take a right on Baldwin Avenue.” Martin said quickly, he hated giving directions. He tried to focus on the app and the instructions it was giving, but it was all blurry and uncertain.

“Yeah I know, but rereading that…” John sighed as he turned, repressing the urge to blow up over the callous and disgusting advert. “It won’t help. It’s a blessing and a curse that it was so little. It wasn’t even half of my savings, we’ll be fine. And we have plenty of room. So. He’ll be safe with us. Luckily we picked him up and not- not someone who…” John’s voice trailed off, grateful when Martin spoke.

“Yeah I just… do you think he’ll be-“ He began, before John suddenly had a reason to interrupt him and change the subject.

“Martin. Which way do I go. T junction.”

“Right! Right on Granger Lane and then it’s your second left and it’s… on your right. Can’t miss it apparently.”

“Do I think he’ll be what, my love?” John repeated absently.

“Angry? When he sees we’re there as more of a, erm, rescue mission?”

“Honestly from how he sounded on the phone I don’t think he cares.”

“Oh.”

“Right we’re here.” John opened the glove compartment and took out a large wad of cash held together by an elastic band. Martin finally looked away from his phone and when he saw the image his heart sank. Tim was in the same position as he was on the photo, curled up on a lawn, shivering and half starved, but with a small carrier bag next to him. John was still locking the car when Martin slipped out and all but ran to Tim. Who jolted up in fright and backed away eyeing him suspiciously, doing a nervous yelp. Martin froze and knelt down trying to look as passive as possible.

“Hey hey hey, sorry. I’m sorry. I’m a friend, see?” Martin held out his hand, palm faced outward and Tim slowly inched closer. He sniffed Martin’s hand and nudged it with his nose. When Martin went to scratch his ears Tim leant away, he wasn’t ready for that yet. It was John who knocked on the door, and when a balding man in a stained white vest and black trousers answered the door Martin used up all his restraint and energy ensuring he didn’t scream at him.

“Hello, yes, I’m Jonathon Sims. We spoke on the phone.”

“So you’re the fags who are going to take this runt whore away,” Wes grunted before lighting a cigarette. Martin scowled but John kept some decorum.

“Here’s your payment. You can count it if you like,” John said politely, handing a thick wad of cash. Wes snatched it and flicked through before nodding.

“You gave your name and address, I’ll be sure to come round if there’s anything amiss.” John flashed Martin a warning glare as he could feel him getting more and more frustrated next to him.

“So this is all of his things?” Martin said pointedly looking at the carrier bag, John took a deep breath. Martin deliberately didn’t look at him.

“What things?” Wes snorted. “Few pairs of underpants and that’s about it. What else does a mutt need?”

“A bed, toys, blankets, jumpers, coats, food bowls-”

“Sleeps in the yard, and eats scraps off the floor like a mutt’s s’posed to.”

“We can take it from here, Mister Stoker,” John said quickly before Martin could continue the battle. Wes threw a glare at Martin which was returned rather intensely before Wes untied the rope and tugged it roughly forcing Tim forward.

“Come on, runt. You’re someone else’s problem now,” Wes growled, Tim struggled and whined, pale and shaking. Before Martin could react John took a step forward and pulled the rope from Wes’s unsuspecting hands, standing between him and Tim.

“I would thank you not to mistreat my dog, Mister Stoker.” John said curtly. He kept a relaxed hold on Tim’s lead and stared directly into Wes’s face until he backed down and mumbled something about ‘faggots’ and ‘no refunds’. John turned back round to see a curious Tim looking at him with a tilted head. He shuffled over and nudged the hand that held his “lead” and gave it a lick. Instinctively, John took the rope from around his neck and discarded it next to the pathetic carrier bag. They didn’t need any of the humiliating scraps Wes had given them.

“Are you sure it’s safe without a leash?” Martin asked anxiously as John rested one hand on Tim’s back as he nervously approached the car.

“He doesn’t like it,” John answered. “He was really not going to go anywhere with it.”

“Yeah. From what I’ve seen of puppy body language videos he was not pleased I just-”

“Martin can you-”

“Oh! Sorry.” Martin opened the back passenger side door to show Tim the nest they made him in the car. Tim look uncertainly between them.

“Come on, Tim, jump in,” Martin said, patting the seats. Tim sniffed at the door and the chair, before awkwardly climbing in. The backseats had been pushed down to create a flat, generous space. They’d covered it in blankets and cushions to make a comfortable space. Tim immediately began burying his face into the blankets rolling around on his back. When the doors were shut and he was left alone he froze and sat up, he was whining when John and Martin got into the car.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Martin soothed, he turned round and put his hand out, letting Tim lean over and give it another sniff and this time a lick. Martin gave Tim some scratches behind the ear which made his tail wag a little. “I don’t think he wants us to leave him.”

“We won’t leave him. Not ever,” John said decisively, as he was about to leave he noticed someone running towards the car. They had long blonde hair, they looked similar to Tim but taller and much healthier looking, their bones weren’t sticking out of their face. They were waving trying to get their attention. Martins rolled the window down and looked at them suspiciously.

“Can I help you?”

“I- Can I say goodbye to my brother, please? I know he’s yours now. Just a quick goodbye. Through the window,” they rambled. Before Martin could reply, Tim began to yelp like he was struggling to say a word.

“Kwa-kw- kwinn,” he barked. Martin and John exchanged a look but John used the main window controls to lower the window. Not enough for Quinn to reach through but enough for Tim to hear them.

“Hey bro. I love you. I know you’ll be happier with these guys,” they reassured with a charming smile. “I’ll come visit, okay?” Quinn backed away from the car, nodded to Martin them ran back to the house. Tim curled up in the blankets, whining a little as he did so.

“I know you’ll miss them,” Martin began after a few moments of silence as John began driving them home. Now that the anxiety of picking up Tim had gone, it was the panic of keeping him healthy and happy that was sinking in. “But we’ll take good care of you, promise.” Tim seemed to understand. He began chewing on a cushion and curled up quite happily, it was the warmest and comfiest he’d ever been… and it was nothing compared to his new home itself.

#envi writes #do not archive #human pet au #John x Martin x Tim

[ofpineapplesanddawns]

Dear John, if you want to answer prompts right now (if not that’s fine, no rush), I‘d have a little request for the vardy au. Maybe Vardy and Lucian watching classic vampire-themed horror movies? Thank you in advance and an early Happy Halloween 🎃

Sounds like a fun theme! :D

I'm totally accepting prompts right now, especially Halloween ones.

On with the fic!

--

"It seems like a terrible idea, but it's the season, I guess." Hardy said as he moved to take a seat on the couch.

"Do you do this often?" Lucian asked. "Watch vampire movies?"

"I try not to. There was a set of movies that Daisy had me watch with her, same with Miller, those stupid romance ones that people really liked. I hated them, they were a horrible chore to sit through, only thing good about them was this one vampire."

Lucian chuckled. "Oh? And what was it about this vampire that made it somewhat bearable to sit through?"

Hardy shot him a look. "He was rather nice to look at and seemed like a proper fictional vampire, not some angsty teenager who shouldn't be in high school still."

This made the lycan laugh as Hardy put on a movie, the first of the evening being the classic Dracula from the 1930s. They sat quietly, watching the movie, before Lucian asked, "When you watch these sorts of films, do you ever compare yourself to the vampires?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, just in the sense of how they are in terms of abilities and such, do you ever think 'I can do that' or 'I am better skilled'?"

Hardy raised an eyebrow, leaning back against the couch, a warm arm wrapping around his shoulders. "Sometimes, but not often. I mean, do you do that when you watch werewolf films? Considering I don't think there are any lycan-based films."

"No lycan films, just werewolves and shapeshifters. But sometimes when I watch them, I see how humans think of my kind's relative species. A lot of it is terrible, werewolves are often seen as dangerous, feral, and tragic."

This made the detective frown. "You're not really feral, Lucian."

"True, unless if I am beyond furious, which has happened, and you cannot blame me for that, it was the start of the war and my wife had been murdered before my eyes. Though you have no comment about being dangerous or tragic?"

"You are dangerous in your own right, just as anyone can be, and your life has been tragic, I can't disagree with that."

Lucian chuckled. "Blunt."

"Never said I wasn't."

They continued to watch as Dracula attempted to get what he wanted, and of how people were trying to stop it. "Did you ever actually read the book?" Hardy asked.

"A long time ago, when it was first published, it was rather ridiculous and odd, a bit... narrow minded, and felt somewhat homoerotic."

This caught Hardy off-guard and he let out a small laugh, then quickly shut his mouth. He didn't miss the amused smile on Lucian's face.

The movie soon ended, and they put on Nosferatu, which Lucian said he had seen when it first was released and how there was a whole lawsuit involved with it, and then they put on a hammer horror. "I liked these ones, back in the day." Hardy commented, now leaning against his boyfriend.

"You like these?" Lucian made a face. "They're so... bad."

"Of course they are, but they're enjoyable for that."

"The blood is very clearly red corn syrup."

"Shush, just watch Peter Cushing trying to kill Christopher Lee."

"I don't want to, this is getting dumb, let's put on something else."

Hardy looked up at him. "Wolfman? Frankenstein? It's Halloween weekend, we have to watch horror movies, even if they're terrible."

"We don't, but I feel like I have no choice." Lucian sighed, resting his head against Hardy's own. "Frankenstein."

"You have no choice at all, especially when Daisy gets you to watch stuff with her, she wants to marathon Buffy or something tomorrow."

"I... don't know what that is."

"You'll find out tomorrow."

--

I'm thinking of the vampire movies I've watched this month and do want to watch, I avoided bringing up Fright Night though, haha.

#john's drabbles #the vardy au #lucian x alec hardy

[merryfortune]

4 Absence of Singularity

AiYusa Month Week 4

Forever or Sparkles or Hunt/Escaping

“My life was hell before I met you, and when I met you, it turned into something worse.”

Soulmate AU or Canon Divergent AU

Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh! Vrains

Ship: Aiballshipping | Ai/Yusaku

Word Count: 743

Tags: Soulmate AU, Fluff

   Humans were so cosmically significant and yet were so beloved to the universe as well but what did that make him? An A.I.? Ai mused, benevolent and with a welling tear, as he observed the marking on his arm. He was just a monster in the shape of a neuron inhabiting a tin can all covered in silicon and rubber, a farce of a human and yet, for some reason, the stars decided that he, too, can have a fated loved one, the very same one whose agony and torture he was born from.

   “I don’t understand.” Ai protested and yet a quirk of his lips betrayed him. Through his tears, he sounded happy.

   “What’s confusing you?” Yusaku asked as he took Ai’s hand.

   He was gentle, pushing Ai’s sleeve slightly further past the crook of his elbow so he could admire the markings. The words that formed a sentence which was nothing less than the most important thing that his soulmate - Yusaku - was ever going to say to him.

   And what those magic words were, of course, the meaning of his name. He was meant to love people. Love humans. Love Yusaku most of all. Though he did not have a heart, his motors hammered and the supercomputer in his ‘brain’ whirred at paces even he couldn’t keep up with and it was his.

   “I’m not human. I’m not deserving. It's so silly.” Ai continued to protest.

   “I know but… can’t we have this small joy?” Yusaku inquired.

   He genuinely thought it was impossible to have a soulmate. That serene and idyllic love just for them, unique to them, just seemed impossible in regard to the size and scale of the universe that twinkled with these arbitrary decisions and impossible for him as Yusaku thought he could never really leave the small confines of that white walled prison he had been confined to as a child. Maybe his soulmate being Ai was proof of that that was all he was going to be, for better and for worse, maybe this was his way of being told he was connected to the world far beyond those four walls. It was difficult to say but just like when a duel depended on the next draw, Yusaku wanted to take that chance and savour hope.

   He offered a smile to Ai was still flabbergasted that a non-human creature would be given the same pittance as Yusaku but Yusaku hadn’t even grown in his stripes. After all, they only typically appeared on the skin of the wrist at around the ages between eighteen and twenty-two. An arc that Yusaku was just shy of at seventeen-ish. 

   And also part of why Ai was so frazzled by this turn of events but just how did an Ignis quantify their age? Chronologically, yes, they were ten but they started at the baseline of a six year old’s life experience and were perpetually ageless, going back and forth through simulated timelines with lifetimes upon lifetimes lived. Surely that was further confusing and confounding the universe owing to their present situation with Ai experiencing every rollicking emotion there was with the emergence of the soulmate’s fated writing on not exactly his own body.

   “But does it scare you?” Ai asked, fright in his rectangular pupiled eyes. “That this is it? The peak of all there is?”

   “That’s not definitively true.” Yusaku offered. “We’ve come so far and this is just one part of the ascent, there’s still more to come.” He reminded Ai and he nuzzled Ai’s wrist. He had a hand like a beautiful, mechanical doll. “And even if we get to that second peak, we would still have more to go, even if it's the descent. I look forward to one day learning what the most important thing you ever say to me is, even if it's just a simple I love you.”

   “Ohh,” Ai complained again but his voice took on a playful toll, he flung his arms around Yusaku and clutched onto him tightly in an embrace that had them waltzing around, making Yusaku’s heart sing and his eyes roll, “I’m sure it could never be so simple as that.” He tutted. “It’s bound to be something very big and dramatic and theatrical, nothing less for me unto you.”

   Yusaku smiled a small smile and patted Ai’s back, “You're totally right.” he agreed, fond, and he was still held tight as they savoured this moment together.

#aiyusamonth #aiyusa month #aiballshipping #yugioh vrains #vrains #yugioh #ai (vrains) #fujiki yusaku #yusaku fujiki #writing tag #absence of singularity

[dev-nxbody-h3re]

Deep Dive #1: Michael Afton

(Note: this about how Michael came to be as a character in my AU, not about Canon Michael)

My Michael first started off as the insane stereotypical Michael we all know and hate. I'm talking Mennard, I'm talking seeing Glitchtrap, insane asylum, first dead, all that junk.

I made quite a few AUs with that Michael. I made a DID AU (which helped me flesh out more of his character), I made a Phineas and Ferb AU (Michael was the stand-in for both Candace and Agent P), but most notably I made my Percy Jackson AU.

My Percy Jackson AU created the groundwork for the Michael you all know and love. I never got past chapter 7 and the writing of it was quite frankly atrocious, but it helped me find Michael's voice as a character. He was a witty, sarcastic, impulsive character with a few too many secrets and an inherit love for found family. Michael had that same fierce loyalty to his friends, saying to Henry:

This is probably the best written line in the entire thing, btw. Except for the classic:

Fuck bitches get nomney. Moving on, PJ Mike still followed the classics: he was friends with Ennard, was abused, was kind of a psychopath in all honesty (he killed family pets of the foster homes he stayed in (but he was literally the son of the king of monsters so idk give him a break lmao)).

He did steal a car and it was badass, and he was gay and in love with James.

Later, after watching more videos about the Aftons, I decided to scrap the stereotypes and make my own AU. We'll call this one the "Old AU" since it came right before my current AU.

I came up with the design for my P!Mike after making an AU where the 4 Tormentors were lab experiments. He looked a little something like:

Ouch. It looked better in gacha, I swear. I still got things from the stereotype au; he was experimented on as a kid by William, and was NM Foxy, for example. He did have black hair, but dyed it brown to differentiate himself from William. I did lean away from the stereotype that Mike could control his rotting and got rid of Ennard as a character, instead bringing in Molty, who's stayed the same since they were created, down to looks.

Old!Michael looked like this:

As you can see, Michael kept his jacket and glasses while crossing AUs. This Michael was kind and fatherly while still having a chaotic streak. I vividly remember writing a scene where he dislocates his spine and Jeremy had to crack it back in place. Michael made a joke about throwing up blood and then threw up blood. (Funny enough, after writing that scene I decided to scrap the AU).

If PJ Mike laid the groundwork for Michael today, Old Mike laid the support down. Michael was in a polyamorous relationship with Jeremy Fitzgerald and Fritz Smith, who no longers exists in my current AU, as Michael is Fritz Smith.

Michael still loved his father in this AU, and was searching for him to set him free so they could all move on together. Obviously Willy boy came back as Glitchtrap, and they were all stuck on Earth.

Since Michael was NM Foxy, obviously the other tormentors were the other Nightmares, with Kasey from Fazbear Frights as NM Fredbear. Kasey was the one who forced all the Tormentors to bully Evan. Man, I really did not like making Michael responsible for any of his mistakes lmao-

Despite these differences, Michael was fundamentally the same character as he is today. His motivation lay in reuniting with his family and friends, he was still the goofy guy he is today. The only exception was that I was too cowardly to really whack him with the trauma hammer so he was wholly neurotypical and his dad apologized to him and he got to be with his mom.

In between creating the Old AU and creating my current AU, I made a small AU that I called the Figment AU. It was paired with a couple other AUs, namely the Crazy AU, Old AU, and the God AU. The Figment AU, to put it short, was based off Bendy the Bunny's first edit of Michael, in which there's text that reads "I'm not real".

I went "oh what if that was literal and Michael didn't exist lol" and then made it an AU. Yay. In it, he was the embodiment of "The Monkey's Paw" in which he granted wishes but twisted it. He met a boy named Terrence (wow) and kinda raised him until he died in WWI! His last wish was for Michael to be free or something, but Michael had to twist it so he was freed but at the expense of not being his own person anymore. He was forced to do WHATEVER anyone expected him to do, even if he didn't like it. So when people started expecting him to cause trouble and bully his brother.. yeah. The only person who didn't expect anything of him was James and he was able to communicate with him.

Figment looked like this:

It was a cool AU, and it really hammered home to me the fact that Michael would be a GREAT father, and established his relationship with James.

But Dev, you're saying, PJ Mike and James were together!! I know, but that didn't count because Michael was so different.

Jumping ahead a few months irl time, I decide that I don't fuck with the Old AU anymore and I decide to revamp it. A few of the concepts stay the same, like Molty, Helpy, and Jeremy. But most of it is improved on.

Past Michael changes from a weak-willed sadboy to the egotistical, god-complex, asshole dickstain he is today. He doesn't dye his hair anymore, and looks like this:

That image is where I finally learned how to draw the Foxy mask correctly woo!! (Call-out post to my old art seen above).

I would also like to mention that all of these pieces were done on this phone with my left index finger. Just something to brag about ig 💅

Michael gained neurodivercency with his schizophrenia, I whacked him a couple times with the good ol' trauma hammer, made him accountable for his goddamn mistakes, and gave him a couple kids.

Michael started hating William just as I do! However he was not experimented on by him at all. He is no longer Nightmare Foxy, but the Nightmares are his. They're just literal Nightmares turned hallucinations.

And wow, what is this? Michael actually had growth during the SAME AU!! In my current AU, he was angry all the time and beat people up for fun, shown here:

Hmm. Maybe I should quit art lmao. Look at the neck on that lad. What was this shading? Look at Michaels BOOT.

And look! He kept his jacket!! I couldn't let myself get rid of it.

Anyway, this phase of Michael didn't last long. Good riddance.

Michael became the corpse we all know and love, in a relationship with Jeremy Fitzgerald and James Watson, with 3 kids, 2 siblings, and a complete family and character arc.

I think it was needless to say that Ace!Michael remained through his entire journey (except for the setero AU because idk apparently rape used to be funny?? I hate it I hate it anyone who makes rape a comic haha funny joke can choke on my massive cock dick balls and asshole). As someone who is ace, I literally couldn't see him as anything else! So he's ace.

I'm sure Michael will do some more developing as my channel goes forward. He's already changed a lot during the course of my channel!

Thank you for reading, and stay tuned for the second part of this series: Evan Afton!

#dev posting #nxbødy_h3re. #my stuff #dev does a deep dive #my au #Michael afton #if youre here from the michael afton fandom #i would recommend watching a few of my videos. #you don't have to tho #i tried to give context for y'all #also image ids available in alt text #tw death #tw schizophrenia #tw abuse #tw stitches #tw body horror #tw emetophobia #tw vomit #tw rape #tw corpse #tell me if i missed anything lol #emetophobia is the vomit one right??? #god i hope so lmao- #long post

[hereissomething]

a lil character dynamics study

#my roommate is dracula #fright hammer au #peter vincent #lorrimer van helsing #count dracula #roddy mcdowall #peter cushing #christopher lee #sketch comic #character dynamics #drac loves to see lorri's growing affection for their new roommate #vampire shitposts #mai art #phuzface #smoking #old man yaoi #hammer dracula #fright night #behold. my first comic in months.🎉💀

[orgyofthedamned]

*me seeing vampires insisting they be killed for fear of their own power* hmm.........getting a lot of lorricore vibes from this

#ramble tag #fright hammer au

[toxic-excess]

🔙 Do Over AU

Birb jolted, looking around, their heart racing. They... were back in their room at Clocktower? No, something felt... odd. Strange, things felt bigger, and- And they could See. Their hands came up to their face, feeling only smooth soft skin, none of the ridged thick scars they'd become so familiar with. Scrambling, they raced to the bathroom, their heart hammering in their chest. Their hair was short and purple again, they still had their eyes, the scars from their bout with ectoacne were still not quite faded away... Birb rushed back out into the room, scrambling and throwing pillows around until they found their phone. Somewhere in their heart, they knew what day it was. Looking at the date only confirmed it. Today they would be blinded.

They panted, trying to calm their racing heart. Birb didn't have time to mourn, didn't have time to cry over losing their husbands, their daughter, the life that had still been growing in their belly. They didn't have time to freak out and wonder how they would get any of it back, if they even could! They didn't have time to wonder why any of this was happening! Why they'd been sent back so suddenly.

Vile was coming, and Birb didn't have time to fuck around and wait to be found. Even with grief and pain clawing at the back of their throat, they stood up, jaw set, and rushed out of the room. There was time to find Clockwork, and Dan, and Phanos, and Fright. There was time to get ready. Birb wasn't going to be caught off guard this time. They weren't going to be stuck doing nothing but running this time.

Vile wasn't going to get shit from them this time!

They could figure out the rest after.

[maiverie]

OPEN SESAME ┊ ft. lee heeseung — CHAPTER THREE.

some doors are better left unopened.

SYNOPSIS. you are uncontrollably, helplessly, and tragically in love with your roommate, heeseung. one night, desperate to learn more about him, you sneak inside his room and discover the reason why he always seems to keep his door closed. and then you realise that some doors, no matter how tempting, are better left unopened.

PAIRING. lee heeseung x fem!reader

GENRES. romance, comedy, crack, fluff, raunchy

AU(S). hot roommate heeseung in a robe, “you have a fat crush on your roommate and he likes to tease you about it” au, crack galore

WARNINGS. swearing, suggestive content, references to sex (!!), teasing/lots of second-hand embarrassment

A/N. this is my debut story on tumblr! i’m super excited & nervous ;-; i think i’ll continue with lots of enhypen content, so please support this if u enjoy it! :>

≡ taglist (open!): @joohyukki @thejjrl @wanlore @yangrden @bluesoobinnie@yurazuyori @staysstrays @datiny-zen @jayk2025 @hoonbrry @alo-ehas @fqiryyang @datiny-zen @luvishee @simpforsung @sunghoonu @w3bqrl @woniecore @heejake-en @luvlee1313 @t5u @magssu @sarahxy537 @markleeisdabestdrug @enhyflirt @jaeyummies

chapter three

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//

yes! yes! yes!

their sex session is over!

“i can’t, sarang—”

ha! you silently cackle at “sarang”. in your face!

“—but we can reschedule for tomorrow.”

wait, what?

reschedule? tomorrow?

at the thought of enduring another cycle of bed squeaks and unhinged pornographic moans and “oh god yes, hee, touch me right there! yes! yes! that’s the spot! right there!”, you want to rip your own face off.

like god, how much intercourse does one need?

is this some sort of sex addiction? do they need therapy?

don’t you all need therapy?

you inwardly whimper, mouthing elaborate curse words at the pair as they engage in a back to forth with one another. sarang seems pissed that heeseung is kicking her out, while he’s pretty adamant that his heater needs to be fixed. you honestly wonder why the heater is so important right now – they’re obviously already in heat.

“fine,” the girl concedes with a huff. you hear a light thud, and visually confirm that her feet have touched the ground. she begins to bend over and scoop up her clothes, and while this initially doesn’t concern you, you soon notice that she reaches down for a clothing item too close to the bed frame that you think she might even bend too far down and spot you.

shit!

shoot!

shite!

you press your body up against the wall as tightly as you can, even if it means snapping your windpipes and shattering your ribcage into assorted pieces.

it’s fine. it’s honestly fine, you try to tell yourself. who even uses their ribs anyway?

you watch with fright as sarang’s dainty fingers reach down to clasp the fabric of her pink top, all the while the world seems to cave in – all movements slow into a gruesome and cinematic pace, heightening to violent sensation of your heart hammering in your chest.

is this where it ends?

does she spot you?

she grabs her shirt, and you hold your breath when she halts. the atmosphere certainly begins to shift, and you wonder if it’s because she can see you from an angle you don’t realise exists.

why is she pausing? why is she stopping?

better yet, why is she still here?

“um…” sarang seems to hesitate. fuck, fuck, fuck. “h-heeseung?”

“hm?”

she stretches out all her fingers and grabs her shirt like a claw machine, straightening her knees as her spine returns to its usual alignment. you see nothing but her feet again, taunted by the scarlet shade of her stupid toenails.

“can you give me a ride home?”

oh?

and that’s when you sigh in relief, thankful to your guardian angels. there’s obviously something or someone looking out for you right now, because there might actually be a chance where you get out of this unscathed. for a moment, you’d thought she’d seen you, but perhaps she was just nervous to ask for a ride home.

hence, the relieved sigh.

yes.

you sighed in relief.

in relief, you sighed.

out loud.

out.

loud.

you fucking sighed out loud.

you freeze instantly, realising your mistake. the world around you seems to have realised it too, because the whole room falls so fucking silent that you could easily drop a pin and it’d produce a catastrophic noise.

the pair don’t say anything for seconds that expanse across five hundred torturous decades, all the while you’ve already begun to plan your funeral. it’ll be all black, classic, small venue. and heeseung’s going to be the first person you’ll choose to haunt after you die. you’re going to make sure he pisses his pants any time he ever wants to have sex with another girl.

“what was—”

“sure, i’ll give you a ride.”

suspicious silence befalls the pair – you think sarang might have heard you, but heeseung seems oblivious. in fact, he’s already walking around his room, collecting a few things, without so much as an eyelash bat.

please, you grasp at the remaining lifeboats you have left, drive her home.

sarang still seems unconvinced. “i thought i heard–”

“get dressed,” heeseung walks over to his door and yanks it open, strolling his way outside. “i’ll buy you lunch.”

you know you should be grateful you made it out alive.

you should be grateful that heeseung never seemed to notice that you were underneath his bed the whole time. you should be grateful that the instant the girl and heeseung had left the room, you took a dash straight into your room, climbed out your window, and absolutely usain bolt-ed your way out of there.

but how can you be grateful when you’re severely traumatised?

you’ll never be the same.

not after everything you had witnessed. everything you had heard.

it’s already been a few days since the incident, and it feels like you’ve lost everything.

it feels like you’ve been stripped of your humanity.

you haven’t been able to eat.

you haven’t been able to sleep.

you haven’t even been able to look at heeseung’s door without having a nervous breakdown.

just yesterday you were staring at your reflection in the mirror while brushing your teeth and suddenly broke down and began to sob violently.

you might be alive, but this isn’t living.

for the following few days that followed, you demonstrated the symptoms of what felt like depression and post-traumatic stress disorder, but was really just a broken heart.

the days were rough—you avoided heeseung like he was some sort of infectious disease, even when it meant skipping what used to be your favourite part of your day—breakfast, bacon, heeseung, and his robe.

you would go to work an hour early and stay for as long as you could before your boss got creeped out and yelled at you to go home. you had even reached out to old friends and begged them with your hands and knees to let you stay over at theirs, just so you didn’t have to go back to yours.

the nights, however, were even worse—it was difficult to go to sleep without having horrific flashbacks of sarang’s moans and groans flashing in your mind. it was like you had an unwanted subscription to pornhub in your head, playing over and over and over again. any noise heeseung made in your apartment made you jolt and hide under the covers. you ignored every time heeseung knocked on your door and pretended you were sleeping. some nights you even had the worst sex dreams known to mankind, for which you were strapped to a chair and forced to watch heeseung performing some sort of elaborate sex act to another girl.

you woke up in night sweats.

if you had known such days and nights would soon become your reality, you really wouldn’t have opened that door in the first place.

but you did.

and now you must suffer the consequences.

a part of those consequences is the fact that it’s already 7pm, and you’re still not home. you don’t want to go home. instead, you’d much rather hole yourself inside your work cubicle, play the shitty version of apex legends on your phone and hope that by the time you return to your apartment, heeseung is sleeping.

you haven’t spoken to him in a week.

you don’t really know what your game plan is. society doesn’t really teach people what to do after they sneak into a roommate’s room and get trapped underneath their bed and have to listen to them have sex with another girl.

so yeah, you’re kind of at a loss right now.

“what the hell are you still doing here?”

at the sudden voice, you snap your head upward and lock eyes with your co-worker and friend, karina. she’s staring at you, standing by her usual work cubicle with a purse around her shoulder and a thick coat folded across her arm. she curls a brow at you and, probably in response to the shock on your face, jiggles the keys in her hands.

“i forgot my house keys,” she explains, probably to justify the reason why she’s come back to your workplace after leaving half an hour ago. “have you just been sitting here playing apex?”

“what? no!” you answer rather defensively, almost scoffing in offence. who does she take you for? some kind of loser that wastes her time playing on her phone just because there’s nothing to come home to?

when you’re met with a skeptical frown, you concede with a sigh. “okay, yes, maybe i have been,” you finally admit, shoulders deflating. “sue me. i just don’t want to go home.”

“i thought you said the best part about finishing work is being able to go home to your hot roommate,” karina snorts.

of course she’s going to bring up heeseung. why wouldn’t she after all the lunch breaks you’ve spent telling her all about him?

“hey,” you squint at her and point with accusation. “that’s my man you’re talking about! i can call him hot, you can’t.”

or maybe he’s sarang’s man. what kind of name is sarang, anyway? why is her name love?

there is no love in this world.

just darkness and carbon dioxide.

karina only rolls her eyes at your childishness. you merely frown, because a part of you is kind of serious. she’s too pretty, and it’s the reason why you’ve never invited her over to your apartment. one look from heeseung and the man would swoon for her.

it’s best she stays the fuck away from your baby daddy.

when you tell karina what had happened at the apartment, she laughs so loudly you have to physically drag her out of the company building. she doesn’t stop laughing even when you travel the entire way back to her apartment after she finally agrees to let you take refuge under her roof.

“how the hell did you keep so quiet the whole time?” karina giggles again, pushing open the door to her apartment. you enter behind her, and a waft of a lovely smelling home strikes your olfactory nerves.

unlike you, she lives alone.

and her apartment is really nice.

it’s exactly the kind of place you’d imagine her to have—it’s spacious and luxurious; the kind of place where you wouldn’t be all too surprised if she’d suddenly started blasting opera music. it’s not exactly the first time you’ve been here, so you unabashedly waltz in and throw yourself on her couch, screaming into one of her pillows, though only muffled sounds come out.

“your life is so sad.” karina cackles again, seating herself on the couch with crossed legs. “so what are you going to do? be homeless for the rest of your life?”

you snap your head up at her and offer her a look so she knows she sounds absolutely crazy. “are you kidding me? hell no, i’m not moving out! dude, i’m living with him until he kicks me out. he’s hot, karina. like, hot hot.”

karina smiles, clearly amused. “and he’s single?”

“i swear to god if you take him from me, i’ll get you fired.”

your coworker snickers, uncrossing her legs as she rises to her feet. you watch with your peripheral vision as she slinks over toward her kitchen. “you should move out,” she says. is she insane? you? move out? from a front row seat of the lee heeseung? “there are bigger things in life than hot men.”

“nope. no there isn’t.”

“unbelievable,” she sighs, opening her fridge. she seems to gather a few soju bottles from inside. “why are you such a simp?”

she just doesn’t understand because she’s never even seen heeseung. she hasn’t seen him in his white robe sipping wine. she hasn’t heard him singing on a saturday morning, and she most definitely hasn’t smelled him after he comes out of the shower. and maybe this is slightly toxic of you, but you secretly hope a pretty girl like her never, ever crosses paths with him. he’s not even yours, but also, he’s yours.

“because he’s sexy,” you whine, kicking your feet as you roll around on her couch. you are completely shameless, but when it comes to heeseung, you’re putty in his hands. “and-and he has this, like, way of talking and looking.” you try to convince her, though she stares at you like you’re some sort of crazy person. maybe you are.

“you mean, with his mouth and eyes?”

“no!” you truly can’t articulate this. heeseung just oozes charisma. he’s hot and knows it, and while that normally throws off a lot of people, he treads such a thin line of hot arrogance that honestly has you begging for more. he’s mysterious, he’s sexy, he smells better than home-baked cookies, and as much as you hate to admit it, sarang is a prime example of the fact that you’re not the only that wants him.

“well, whatever it is, stop sacrificing your self-dignity.” karina lectures, entering the living room again. she crouches beside the coffee table that the couch surrounds and settles down two shot glasses and two bottles of soju.

she’s a gem.

she knows exactly what you want.

“self-dignity is overrated.” you grin, sliding off the couch to plop into a seat across her on the coffee table. she pours you your first shot of soju and with a delicate clink, the clear liquid gushes down your throat.

you and karina are drunk in her theatre room, singing karaoke. well, it’s not really singing. it’s… wailing. you’re wailing. you’re making whale noises. same thing.

your song choices are quite broad. there’s some blackpink, and one direction, and even some random upbeat pop song called fergalicious that neither of you two remember queueing, but end up memorising the lyrics to anyway. it’s fun. you have a fun time! in fact, it’s so fun that time completely passes you by entirely, and at one point, you’re squinting at the blurry vision of your phone, desperately trying to catch the numbers that keep floating away from your eyes.

holy shit.

it’s already 3am.

karina is kind enough to let you sleep over, and you both pass out on her carpeted floor.

the next morning, she hands you a set of fresh clothes and drops you off at your apartment with her car. you quickly wave her off and when the sight of her car has completely disappeared into the distance, you yawn, shoulders deflating.

you shuffle toward your apartment, making reluctant and fatigued steps up the dumb stairs. this morning, it feels a lot more cumbersome to do this — previously, knowing heeseung was at the top of the stairs was enough fuel to get you moving, but knowing he’s probably either sleeping or sleeping with someone else makes your heart throb with dismay.

maybe bacon was really just bacon.

you have a tendency to live in your head — it’s easy for you to fit a whole narrative up inside your brain, and somehow, your delusional ass seemed to have concocted a whole fairy tale imagination where heeseung might have actually cared about you.

sighing, you finally reach your way to your apartment door, recalling the wise words karina had spoken to you last night.

you should move out. actually, you should live with me! my roommate recently moved back in with her family and i could use a little help with the rent.

you wonder if those were only drunk words.

could you really take her up on that offer?

should you move out?

the only reason you had moved into your apartment is literally because your roommate is sexy. it sounds ridiculous because it is ridiculous. however, the reality is that life is passing you by and many of your friends are growing up. they’re putting on their big boy pants and making financially sound decisions. you should probably move on and start getting your shit together, too.

you need to face the cold, hard truth—people like heeseung don’t pay attention to people like you.

maybe you should start looking for new places. you have the day off work today, so you think you’ll go apartment hunting. to your knowledge, there’s a plethora of listings online for you to look at, and if you have any spare time, you might even have some fun and go on free house tours. you really love looking at interior house designs and even hope that it’ll inspire you to move out and start living your life to its fullest.

feeling somewhat motivated, you quickly rummage through your belongings in search of your keys.

it should be somewhere here, you frown, growing increasingly irritated.

seriously, is life ever going to give you a break?

where the hell are your keys?

you’re certain you packed them, unless maybe you left them at work, or maybe even at karina’s—

suddenly, the door in front of you opens, eliciting a surprised yelp from you.

you jump, slapping your hands across your chest as you gape at the culprit in bewilderment.

heeseung.

your gazes meet, and that’s when it feels like the roof above you crashes in, and every filament, tendril and atom of your body shrinks and shrivels from starvation. you’ve missed him. and now that he’s here, you crave him. heeseung’s an irresistible drug, and there’s no other way to describe it. he’s the reason for the euphoric surge disseminating across your body; in fact, he’s a high — something wickedly and deliciously addicting, something that makes the world pale in comparison, and something that makes living with your head in the clouds worth it.

he’s a fairy tale.

a disney movie.

like before, like now, and like always, he’s a rollercoaster drug disguising as paradise and you’re the one strapping yourself in.

“hey,” he says.

you’ll gladly crash and burn if it’s with him.

you outwardly gawk, swept off your feet from the view. heeseung towers over you in another one of his white robes, except this time, he’s lazy — the garment barely covers his body given that the knot is tied too loosely around his waist, giving the rest of his skin free rein to glisten and glow.

holy fuck.

he looks so damn good.

you see so much and so little — you see his bare neck and upper chest, you see his collar bones, and you even see the tiny, tiny slit down his chest that teases a hidden sight of the rest of his torso.

he’s just come out of the shower, and you can’t help but follow the small drops of water that trickle from the ends of his strands and down his taut chest. he’s damp, he’s not fully clothed, and somehow he still manages to radiate so much heat you have to shuffle back a little bit.

you should stop staring.

you should stop staring.

fuck no, you will not stop staring.

“h-hi,” you manage to whisper, gulping once.

stop staring, stop staring, stop staring, stop staring.

but you can’t stop staring even if you wanted to — he’s the sun, and you’re pretty sure you’re vitamin d deficient.

“you didn’t come home?” he asks, eyes trailing down your body. fuck. the heavy weight of his stare makes the hairs on your body stand, especially when he places a hand on the door frame and uses it to lean forward so that your faces are closer.

you rapidly shake your head, unable to articulate real human words.

“why?” he smiles, though it edges a small smirk. “you don’t like it here?”

“what?” you exclaim outrageously. how could you not love living with heeseung? “no! i love yo— it! i love it here!” you splutter and scoff, folding your arms and snapping your head to the side.

oh fuck, oh god.

your face is heating up. so are your ears, too — actually, heeseung has confined you into a cage of heat and heat and heat, where your body just feels so damn hot that you think you might actually burst sooner or later.

“ha,” heeseung chuckles. “explains why you haven’t talked to me in a week.”

you snap your head back toward him while your eyes widen — you’re honestly surprised he even noticed at all.

“just come in,” heeseung gently smiles, straightening his back. he steps to the side, providing you space to pass through, so you timidly point to yourself and blink cluelessly.

“r-really?”

he cocks his head to the side, smiling at you with a glint in his brown eyes. “are you asking me for permission to enter your own apartment?”

oh.

yes.

that’s right — you live here.

you slap on an awkward smile and waddle your way like a stitled penguin, inwardly cursing yourself for having the social skills of a dead fish. you seriously need to catch a grip on yourself, but it’s been a week and that’s long enough for you to forget how to breathe around heeseung.

you’d gotten into a rhythm before, but now you’re uncoordinated and lost.

“have you, uh, eaten?” you ask, wincing the moment the question comes out of your mouth. why the hell are you asking that? are you his mother?

“i’ll eat soon,” he answers, leisurely strolling toward you. you watch with bewilderment as he adjusts the robe around his body and situates the knot even further down his torso. “right after i figure out why my roommate hates me.”

you let out a nervous laugh.

“who said i hate you? you haven’t done anything wrong!” you try to brush off his words casually, though you’re certain you look and sound like a nervous wreck.

you are, in fact, nervous.

he makes you nervous.

and actually, yes, he’s done many things wrong. so many things, and wrong on so many different levels. but it’s okay, because you’re down bad and given how much life this sliver of an interaction is giving you, you’re ready to let bygones be bygones.

heeseung smiles, stopping in his steps once he finds himself standing right in front of you. he seems harmlessly close, until he places a hand on your shoulder, squeezes it once, and winks. “good to hear,” he says, but you can barely hear it with the sensation of his touch. you suck in a sharp breath between clenched teeth, stiffening but also jumping with ecstatic happiness.

his hand is on your shoulder.

you repeat: heeseung’s godly hand is on your shoulder.

he’s touching you.

“now, does my roommate want breakfast or is she going to run away again?”

something about the way he says “my” makes you want to cheer and cry in happiness like your favourite sports team has just won.

to answer his question: “his” roommate most definitely wants breakfast.

“um, uh, yeah, i-i guess i could eat.”

the edge of his lips twitch upward. “good.”

you watch as he turns and returns into the kitchen, although he quickly turns his head over his shoulder and eyes you with another charming smile. “by the way, the heater’s fixed.”

“oh,” you quickly blink. “you were always looking forward to that.”

“yeah,” he confirms, “this apartment’s too cold. why do you think i’m always wearing a robe?”

to torture you?

you smile awkwardly, dismissing your inner thoughts. “i just thought you liked wearing them. it, um… looks soft.”

“you can have this if you want,” he smirks. “i can probably go back to not wearing anything.”

why?

why, god, why?

why does he say these things? he has to be doing this on purpose – he has to be relishing in the way he scuffles down any shred of sanity you might have left, because here you are, face so hot it could cook an egg.

“is that a problem?” heeseung asks you, smirking. “do you care what i wear around this place?”

is he for real?

is he fucking around with you now?

you gape at him, unable to grasp reality. man, you want time to freeze. you want to press pause and immortalise your interactions with heeseung forever. you truly don’t want anything or anyone else, just him and his sexy little face and his flirtatious smirks and the way he makes your heart pound.

“you can wear whatever you desire,” you whisper quietly to yourself. how embarrassing, but you’re grateful that it was quiet enough he didn’t seem to hear you. instead, he blinks at you and lifts his brows, seemingly asking you to repeat your words. you quickly shake your head, stifling down any evidence of your perverted thoughts.

he can’t. he can’t know the effect he has on you, because then he’d most definitely apply for a restraining order.

“what are you craving?” heeseung asks, sauntering back into the kitchen.

“oh,” you shake your head, palms outstretched, “honestly, anything’s fine,” you say sheepishly. he could literally feed you a roasted rat and you’d still eat it.

“how unhelpful,” he scoffs jokingly, before tipping his head in the direction of the bathroom. “i think haneul said she wanted pancakes earlier, do you mind?”

you blink.

wait, what?

haneul?

she?

your smile instantly fades.

“wait,” you slowly frown, turning your head toward the bathroom. your eyes widen when you notice the knob is turning.

who the fuck is haneul?

//

to be continued.

author’s note: hi everyone omg don't hate me for ending the chapter this way IM SORRY AIOWFEOIWJWE DON'T COME FOR ME PLSSSS KJEWFJKWE but anyway thank u sm for reading i really appreciate all the support this past week :(( i'm completely shocked n staggered u guys are seriously so nice wtf ;-; i honestly had no idea tumblr could be this amazing wtf???? anyway i hope u liked this chappie!! sorry if it was too long!! :< if u enjoyed it i would really appreciate ur support via liking + reblogging if u can! for anyone interested, the taglist is open — just leave a reply, comment or dm! :>

#heeseung x reader #lee heeseung fic #heeseung imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen fluff #heeseung scenarios #heeseung fluff #enhypen x reader #lee heeseung fluff #enhypen imagines #enhypen drabbles #lee heeseung imagine #heeseung drabbles #enhypen heeseung x reader #enhypen fic #enhypen fanfic #heeseung fic #heeseung fanfic #lee heeseung #heeseung #lee heeseung fanfiction #lee heeseung au #lee heeseung enhypen #heeseung fanfiction #heeseung au #heeseung enhypen #lee heeseung edit #enhypen headcanons #heeseung headcanons #open sesame

[lydias--stiles]

and in the haze you see colours

juke | human soulmate au | title: 5 am // amber run

The first colour she ever saw was purple.

When someone was born, they got to see one colour. To each it was different and often a reflection of one's aura. Julie's aura was purple and, naturally, it was the colour she could see. Which was unfortunate, as there weren't many purple things in life - not naturally, at least.

And so, her entire bedroom was purple. Purple walls and purple sheets and purple stationary. The rest were varying shades of grey. Often times, she asked her parents why some were lighter than others, and they told her about green and blue and red. It sounded like a fairy tale. Red was warm, apparently, and blue was flexible and green was fresh. Despite their best attempts, she couldn't visualise it.

It didn't matter. Once she met her soulmate, she would see all the colours imaginable.

Befriending Flynn was easy. The girl had purple ribbons in her hair and that instantly attracted Julie. Vice versa, Julie's orange dress was a plus for Flynn. Through their deep bond, oranges slowly infused itself in her cornea. Orange, like a child's laughter.

With Carrie came pink. Pink, like the fiery moves of a dancer. It was close to purple, so it wasn't a huge shock to see a bouquet of roses suddenly come alive with colour.

In retrospect, gaining orange and pink wasn't that amazing. Not when she lost her mother while doing so. Placing pink dahlias on her grave was just another punch in the gut.

Years passed and people around her found their soulmates. In freshmen year, so many students gasped and fainted as they crossed eyes with their One. She went to parties and someone would start randomly kissing the other. She went to open mics and watched as her soprano voice accompanied two people finding love. It was as beautiful as it was tragic.

Julie was seventeen and she still hadn't found her soulmate. Statistically, most had by now. Had she not gone to The Orpheum that night, she might’ve waited even longer.

Flynn urged her to go to this new and upcoming band, Sunset Curve, as their sound was someone she’d vibe with. Julie wasn’t really feeling it, drowning in homework and song ideas, but her friend was persistent. They needed a breather from everything and a concert was the perfect remedy. After a quick Google search, she realised they were her age. Curiosity swelled in her chest, wondering how they moved up from open mics or school assemblies to the iconic stage of The Orpheum. The only thing she could note about the band was the drummer’s pink hoodie. That was it.

The venue was packed when they arrived. Boisterous chatter, antsy for the band to come on stage and fill the spaces between the instruments. Glasses chiming of sodas and beers being filled and passed around, the soft hum of pop music blaring from a speaker. Most of the crowd were kids from neighbouring schools and all dressed more alternatively. Though she didn’t see most colours, it was clear as day the band tees were vintage and the trousers were ripped or checkered or both.

She shot Flynn a look. “Are you sure this is our thing?”

“Yes!” Propelling them to the front of the stage and consequently shouldering kids in the ribs, she added: “Their biggest hit is, like, insane. And you’ve been in a funk all week, so you need some insanity. To like, counteract it. I don’t know.”

Julie withheld a pout. She’s been ‘in a funk’, because while she was at Eats & Beats grabbing a coffee, two strangers fawned at the sight of each other. RIght in front of her nose, another couple found. It normally didn’t affect her that much, but it did this time. The girl was sick of hearing about romantical love instead of experiencing it herself. Sure, she had Flynn and Carrie and her family, but…

But she wanted that. She wanted more. And with each ticking hour, it felt less and less viable. Where was the One for her?  

The lights dimmed and the pop music stopped, smoke drifting across the stage as the audience began hollering and whistling. Egging the band to get on and give a performance worth watching. The hyped-up teens pushed everyone to the front, now Julie and Flynn forced to crane their necks to watch.

The drummer came on first, all applauding for him as he took his seat and started a drum beat that quickly upped in tempo. It swept them up in an atmosphere, heads bobbing and feeling that rise in anticipation.

Then the bassist came. His dark jacket glittered in the overhead lights, the flannel peaking beneath almost hinting at orange but remaining grey. He added to the beat, bringing in a bassline that had feet bouncing and more people cheering. The mic at the front remained empty, teasing its explosion of lyrics and electricity.

Finally, at the crescendo of sound, the frontman stormed on. He was all charm and smirks and cut-offs and blazing purple shoes. That caught her off guard, eyes dropping to the ultraviolet sneakers. A shock of colour amidst the grey.

His raspy voice belted out lyrics, a grin pulling on Julie’s face at the musicality. Grabbing Flynn’s hand, they jumped around with the other people. Their music was insane. It was fast and clashing and aggressive and raw.

With her neck in its odd position, she observed the singer for a beat. He was… hot. That was all Julie could think. He was hot. His hair falling perfectly right, big eyes, the smile breaking all lines in his face like a beautiful mosaic. Humming like an undercurrent was a buzz right beneath her ribs. Snug and warm, which could’ve been the vibrations from the amps, but it felt different. A good different.

They were in their fourth song when it happened. The band was kicking and jumping around, singing about making it big and not looking down, skyrocketing to stardom, when it happened.

The lead singer dropped to his knees and let the guitar riff bleed to the front row. The audience hollered, Julie laughing in delight at the expert playing, when her and the guy’s gazes met.

He yelped, music stopping short as he careened over the edge and crashed to the floor. Simultaneously, Julie felt the air knocked out of her lungs, losing balance and falling into Flynn. Her eyes were shrivelling with heat, as if hit with the embers of a campfire. A hammer slammed down on the buzz in her chest, electrifying the feeling till it was nearly unbearable.

Her eyes shot open. And then there was colour.  

The crowd dispersed in fright. Gasps and gawks echoed to the back, curious murmurs carefully watching the guy and the girl come to their senses.

“Flynn,” she exclaimed, grabbing for her friend. “Flynn, I can-”

Except she wasn’t there, joining the rest of the crowd further back. The bassist and drummer were watching on, baffled.

Oh. Her stare drifted to the squirming boy on the floor. Oh.

Luke scrambled upright, instantly coming face to face with Front Row Girl and all the colours he has wished to see forever. His eyes were burning from shock and euphoria, greys and whites bleeding out of his bloodstream.

Her hands grasped for his face, worried, lips forming words he hardly registered but vaguely processed as ‘asking if he was okay.’

“Y-yeah, yeah,” he stuttered, his gaze racing across her features to wholly take her in.

Warm skin and wide, brown eyes and dark lashes and curled, pink lips and a pointed chin and glossy, long curls dancing against her cheeks and soft hands and red - she was wearing red. His colour. His soulmate.

He laughed. “Hi.”

She matched it, giggling. “Hey.”

“Hi,” he sighed, still in disbelief that she was his soulmate. His soulmate. His soulmate. The One.

Her trembling smile softened, thumbs swiping across his cheekbones. “You have really pretty eyes,” she whispered.

Her own were shining with unshed tears and he felt himself choking up too. Never in a million years did he think he’d meet his soulmate. To him, it had always been music. Sure, it sounded nice, but he knew he shouldn’t be yearning for it. He had his friends - his aura was red and he gained pink from Alex and yellow from Reggie.

But suddenly she was here. She was really here.

“You’re- pretty-” he stumbled, causing her to laugh again.

Yeah, there was no way he’d be able to continue the gig. The Orpheum was a big deal, but meeting your soulmate? Most monumental moment of anyone's life.

There was so much colour now. So much life. There was so much more than just music and red and pink and yellow to enjoy. (Songs swirled in his mind though, exciting him to the bone as his hands slid to grab her own. Winking all coy, like the best was yet to come.)

“Do you wanna talk?” he rushed out after.

She nodded. “Yeah. You- uh- your band-”

Their fingers intertwined, warmth dancing in his heart. “Doesn’t matter,” he chuckled. “Really does not matter right now.”

The light of a camera flash and exhilarated screams of ‘soulmates!’ ripped them from their bubble. The bassist jumped offstage and clapped Luke on the back, whispering at him to go to the alley. Leading her away, there was no sense of doubt in their steps. Luke didn’t know her name, she maybe didn’t know his. None of that mattered. There was colour now.

From the alleyway, they found themselves wandering around the Strip as they talked for ages. Her name was Julie, his was Luke, they were musicians, they were seventeen, their auras were purple and red, he decided he adored her smile the most and she his twinkling eyes.

“I think they’re green,” Julie said, peering into his eyes. She was impossibly close and it sort of took his breath away. “They’re fresh.”

“Fresh?” he grinned.

She didn’t lean back - she didn’t want to, his soul simply enigmatic - and asked him the same question. “What are mine?”

His expression softened, a smile twitching on his lips. They’re beautiful. “Brown, I think,” he said instead. “Not sure though. You wanna figure it out tomorrow?”

Her stride halted, their grasp on each other nearly yanked apart. His brows raised expectantly. It was there - that invisible, innate, sense of understanding. It wasn’t just colour. It was the refusal to look at colour alone, ever again. It was insane for the both of them, how their rushing thoughts slotted all puzzle pieces together without a hitch. It had that satisfying click-click-click sound, like dominoes.

Luke found himself coming back to her, the space between them disappearing till their arms pressed together and there were no forces tugging them together. It was all themselves.

“I have a book about colour,” Julie eventually said. “We can learn them all.”

He smirked. “I can tell you your lips are pink.”

“Yours are too.”

“Yeah?” he teased.  

But then she lifted a finger and pressed against the plump skin. His heart stopped short at the sensation. Before he gave into the instinct to pucker them and kiss it, her hand dropped.

Julie grinned. “And now they’re red.”

When Luke kissed her, hers were red too.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

@blush-and-books​ @bluefirewrites​ @unsaidjulie​ @willexx​ @unsaid-emily​ @ourstarscollided​ @pink-flame​ @constantly-singing​ @stydixa​

#juke #jatp fanfiction #julie and the phantoms #otp: i think we make each other better #bitches always be using colour.... im bitches

[gumnut-logic]

The Cane (Part 4)

@flyboytracy​​​ asked:

Steampunk AU: five uses for a cane and one time Scott used it for its intended purpose 😘

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Aaargh, those migraines messed with my muse on this one. Had to fight it the entire way and the cane reference is tiny. Hope you enjoy it anyway ::hugs to all::

Many thanks to @janetm74​​​ @tsarinatorment​​​ and @scribbles97​​​ for all their help and amazing support of my crazy. And to @flyboytracy​​​ for asking in the first place.

This be Steampunk AU with a mix of John snark, a little bit of wee!Tracys in a little bit of peril, some selfless Scott, and a reason you don’t want to mess with Five or her pilot.

-o-o-o-

4.

“This is very inconvenient.”

Scott stared at his brother in the dim light. “Is that an attempt at impersonating Lady Penelope?”

John stared back, dust drifting haphazardly off his hard helmet and goggles. “As you’ve said many times yourself, there is no use in panicking.”

He had to give his brother that. A sigh and he assessed their situation yet again, shining his torch about the space they found themselves in.

They were in a basement. It was likely that they were lucky, as all indications were that if they had been in any other part of the building, they would not be having this conversation or any other any time in the future. The basement had a wall of solid bedrock on one side, the building having been constructed with that in mind with half the plumbing bolted into the rock. Unfortunately, the rest of the structure had been built on sand, which promptly liquified when the earthquake hit.

Speaking of earthquake. “How long do you think before the next aftershock?”

John pulled out his notebook, took a note of the time on the watch he had strapped to his wrist, and scribbled down some math. “They are very unpredictable, but I’m hoping this last big one will give us some time. Or at least, Virgil some time to dig us out.”

Scott fiddled with his transmitter unit. There was no response on any frequency he attempted. Either the equipment was broken or something was stopping the signal from reaching his brothers. John had already pulled his apart and attempted a signal boost with no success.

They were both covered in dust, but fortunately uninjured.

But, for the moment, they were stuck.

Scott was not very good at sitting still.

“We may as well rest so we can be ready when needed.”

Scott grunted.

His brother ignored him and wiped off a large chunk of masonry with one leather-gloved hand and sat down. “You know Virgil will find us.”

Another grunt.

“Sit down, Scott. You can afford to take a minute to rest.”

He let out a breath and bit his lip, but with a sigh, he did as his brother asked.

There was silence for a moment, broken only by the sound of dust and rock settling.

“Why did you come back in?” John’s voice was crisp, clear and calm.

“You were in here.” Obviously.

“But now both of us are trapped, whereas if you had run like you should have, you could be assisting Virgil to dig me out.”

Scott’s lips thinned. What had been his line of thinking? Had there been a line of thinking? To be honest, all he could recall was the thought that John was under a building that was about to collapse and he needed saving.

His voice was a little rough. “Virgil will get us out.”

“Hmm.” John was not looking at him.

“What did you expect me to do? Leave you here to die?”

Aquamarine turned calmly to catch his eyes. “Better than both of us.”

“We’re not dead.”

“Pure chance.”

John was always ever so direct.

“But important nonetheless.”

John sighed. “Reminds me of the well.”

Scott eyed him. “Really? You’re going to bring that up again?”

“Eternally, my dear brother.” John’s smirk was exceedingly annoying. “Besides, it passes the time.”

“I would rather spend time finding a way out of here.” Scott shot to his feet and began pacing around the space they were stuck in.

“If you disturb something that brings the rest of the building down on us, I’m haunting you until the end of time.”

Scott slumped a little. His brother was right. Messing with the fragile pile was just asking for trouble. They were lucky to have room to breathe, much less walk around.

“This is the reason why you ended up in the well, Scott. You haven’t changed in twenty odd years.”

Scott glared at him. His little brother had been six at the time, Scott only ten. The two of them had gone beyond the borders of the Tracy farm in Kansas and into land they shouldn’t have. They were exploring. John, as always, was a little more cautious, but Scott was ever running ahead.

It was rather ironic that it was John who fell in the well.

It wasn’t long dug, but the planks covering it were flimsy and the winds from the previous day had obscured them. John had gone through them as if the planet had eaten him.

“John!”

Scott found his little brother clutching his leg at the bottom of the hole.

It wasn’t a very deep well, but it was deep enough to put his brother out of the reach of a ten-year-old.

“Scotty, my leg hurts.”

“I’ll get you out.” He looked around for something to help John.

Perhaps he knew in some part of his mind that this could be the wrong decision. He had no rope and no real way to reach his little brother. He should get help.

But he couldn’t leave Johnny here on his own.

The thought was terrifying from both of their perspectives.

Perhaps he would have thought it a little less terrifying if he realised what could happen if he didn’t fetch help. Because once he found a long enough stick, he reached over the edge and while doing his best to add to the length John couldn’t quite reach, he fell in the hole on top of his brother.

There were groans and tears after that.

Scott didn’t hurt himself. John had been heard to comment on multiple occasions thereafter that it was because he landed on a cushion he called brother.

Scott countered that by saying he was lucky he hadn’t been impaled by a bony limb of said scrawny brother.

In any case, they huddled together for warmth for thirty-six freezing hours until someone finally found them.

By then, both brothers were dehydrated and starving.

The lecture from their father was almost as long as their time in the well.

Their mother, pregnant with Gordon at the time, took ill with the fright and there was some seriously scary time until the little fish was born a month later…a touch early.

Virgil wouldn’t let either of his brothers out of his sight for a good year after the incident. The nine-year-old obviously terrified they would disappear again.

It became legendary in the Tracy household for good or bad.

“So, you’re saying, I should have gone for help?”

Something clunked in the pile of rubble.

John arched an eyebrow. “As I said, you haven’t learnt. Yes, Scott, you should not have dashed back into the collapsing building. When Virgil finds out, he’s going to scalp you.”

“I’m sorry that my first instinct is to protect my brothers.”

John rolled his eyes, both original and artificial. “Your first instinct should be to protect yourself so you can protect your brothers.”

Folding his arms across his chest, Scott shifted his weight onto one foot, cocking his hip. “Fine. Then explain Bermuda.”

“That was different. That was saving lives.”

“You rammed a twenty-eight gunned frigate with Five!”

“It was firing on a sinking civilian target full of over two hundred passengers, including my four brothers. Grandma was not aboard. It was a fair decision.”

Scott had to admit it had been spectacular, the huge, blue-grey, manta-ray-shaped Five had reared out of the ocean and sliced the pirate vessel in half.

International Rescue had fished the survivors out of the water and there had been minimal casualties, considering.

Five had taken damage, but her cahelium superstructure was designed to withstand something as simple as a mostly wooden hull. Some gentle care from Virgil, an assessment from Hiram, and she was declared fit and well.

They had disappeared for a while after that as the rumours ran riot. Lady Penelope managed to smooth any ruffled feathers at government level.

Scott had both commended and roasted John alive.

“You could have been killed.”

“So could have you, and Virgil and Gordon and little Allie. Was I supposed to sit back and watch?”

Another clunk from somewhere in the rubble.

Scott arched an eyebrow. “Perhaps, you know how I feel.”

“Of course, I know how you feel. We all do.”

“Then what is the problem?”

“Scott-“

But John was interrupted by another clank, this time clearly from one of the pipes against the wall.

“Virgil?” They both said it at once and hurried over to the rock face.

The clunk repeated itself and then started on a very familiar dot dot dot…

S C O T T

He reached behind and pulled his folded cane out of its sleeve on his back. Its metal tip shone dull brass in the yellow light.

He only had to tap one letter. Dot dot dot dash.

V.

Three letters came back in a hurried jumble of excited hammering. F A B.

Then…S T A T U S?

J  A N D  S   W E L L  A N D  M O B I L E.

S T A N D  B A C K ?

F A B.

Assuming Virgil was referring to the rock wall as the point of origin, the two brothers stepped as far back from it as they could.

Moments later a rumble and hiss of gears, the crash of breaking masonry and daylight suddenly shot through part of the rubble. This was quickly followed by a massive but familiar brass claw reaching in and grabbing a large chunk of rock, disappearing with it. A crunch of gravel, shove of rock…a shout. “Scott, are you in here? John?” Their goggled and fully armour-suited brother pushed the rest of the way through the pile of broken building, both claws fully extended.

“Over here, Virgil.”

Their brother’s head turned in their direction and metal shoulders sank in relief. “Oh, thank god.”

Something shifted in the rubble pile and Virgil reacted, his right claw slamming into the chunk of masonry threatening to fall. “Let’s get you out of here.”

Scott didn’t need to be told twice as the remains of the building creaked around them in warning. Grabbing John’s arm, he hustled his brother out through the gap past Virgil.

The engineer’s eyes on the both of them.

No doubt there would be a medical examination in their near future.

Shoving John gently ahead of him, Scott turned to keep an eye on Virgil.

His metal clad brother stepped back carefully, letting rock fall in his wake.

Then, as if the final domino had been tipped, the entire pile began collapsing in on itself.

Scott took a step towards Virgil only to have his arm yanked on from behind.

“Damnit, Scott protect yourself!” John dragged him through the remains of the rubble as a cloud of dust roared behind them.

“Virgil!” He dug his heels in, fighting John’s hold.

“He’s wearing his armour, Scott. You are not! Move!”

It went against everything. He had to protect his brothers first. But John was right. Neither of them was wearing enough protection. Virgil was.

He had to trust.

Trust that Virgil knew what he was doing.

When put in those terms the answer was simple. Of course, he trusted Virgil.

Perhaps it was fate he had issues with.

John dragged him clear of the building and the cloud of dust. Two, nestled on her landing struts, was a wonderful sight.

And then Gordon was grabbing at him. Alan was yelling his name and there were dusty hugs and clunking helmets.

But still the cloud…

“Virgil?”

As if summoned, his brother strode out of the haze, cogs whirring and pneumatic systems hissing, metal glinting in the sun. His goggled eyes searching until they latched onto his brothers.

Thank god.

A matter of strides and he enveloped his engineer brother in a hug, metal suit and all. “Thanks, Virg.”

His brother exhaled in a huff. “What on Earth were you thinking?” And so began the rant about worrying about a brother encased in metal when a building is falling when he wasn’t and could have been killed with a single rock. You idiot.

It went on for some time.

John smirked at him for the entire tirade.

-o-o-o-

Next

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Scott Tracy #John Tracy #Virgil Tracy #where there be dragons au #an attempt at Steampunk

[ofpineapplesanddawns]

No one asked, but I woke up with the idea: 

Crowley and Aziraphale meet Lucian and Peter.

Anyway, this couldn’t possibly go wrong! :D 

This isn’t set in any of my aus, this is just it’s own thing, but I’d like to think that Peter and Lucian got married somewhere down the line...? (after Peter becomes a lycan? Vampire? Shh, this is just for this au. Maybe. I dunno.)

On with the fic!

--

“It’s hot, it’s tacky, it’s loud and obnoxious and full of too many people!” Crowley grinned, throwing up his arms. “Welcome to Las Vegas!”

“This isn’t my first time being here, dear boy.” Aziraphale sighed. “We were here in the fifties, remember? You tried to get yourself into the Rat Pack?”

“And you nearly threw Frank Sinatra out a window, I know that.” Crowley was still grinning. 

They were here for a vacation, one they both thought they deserved after everything that happened. They decided on going to America this time around, it’s been a while, and somehow Vegas ended up being their destination of choice. Crowley had planned a lot of the travel and such for them, best flight, best seats, and a hotel he chose. 

It was... nice, Aziraphale guessed, for a building that clearly belonged to the 90s and 2000′s. Oh, how he missed the classics, most of those were gone or turned into family attractions. This one seemed a little more... adult? If Aziraphale had to give it a word. 

The Hard Rock Hotel had been Crowley’s choice, and it seemed obvious why he picked it. It seemed very up his alley in terms of style and such, minus being kept extremely clean, but humans couldn’t clean like a stressed out demon could. They made their way to their room, got their stuff settled, before Crowley took Aziraphale out for dinner.

At least that had been nice, the place was very much more his cup of tea, and had been delicious! Afterwards, Crowley insisted they should see a show, because you can’t go to Vegas without seeing at least one obnoxious stage show!

But what to see?

“I think we should see this one.” Crowley pulled a pamphlet from the inside of his jacket, one of many that Aziraphale knew he snatched up when they were getting checked in at the front desk. 

Aziraphale took the pamphlet and looked at the front.

“;Welcome to Fright Night.’” He read aloud. “‘Come see world-famous vampire hunter Peter Vincent save the night from the evils of the living dead, who wake from their crypts to feed upon the living’. This sounds terribly tacky.”

“I think it sounds awesome!” Crowley grinned, of course he would, he liked this spooky nonsense. In the middle of the 20th century, Crowley had dragged Aziraphale to a number of theaters to watch Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee covered in red paint and saying such cheesy lines while pretending to be  Van Helsing and Dracula. Give Aziraphale Bela Lugosi any day of the week. This is what this show made him think of, those Hammer Horror films, but Crowley was a sucker for them, and Aziraphale was a sucker for him.

“Oh, alright, but you’re paying for the drinks.”

--

Lucian didn’t often come to Peter’s shows, he had been to a few already, but sometimes he liked to come in and watch when Peter had told him he had made some changes here and there to spice things up. Tonight was one of those nights, Peter had been going on and on about how they finally let him put in cool lasers into the show to mess with the audience, and he practically begged Lucian to come to the show.

He would have anyway, he liked watching his husband prance about on stage, dressed in a ridiculous outfit and wig while spouting lines and shooting fire from his sleeves. 

The crowd was decent tonight, which was good for a middle of the week show, usually the best audiences were on the weekends. But two voices caught Lucian’s attention, then two very, very distinct scents followed soon after.

He glanced to his left, seeing a blond man taking a seat just a few chairs away from him, with a redheaded man sitting down next to him, talking all the while about how excited he was to see how corny this could be. He even asked if they’d have bats flying about, how cool would that be.

Lucian stared, surprised, at the redheaded man. His style of clothing looked like a much more classy version of Peter’s own, but his voice, his face, they were nearly identical to his husband’s! Yes, he was older than Peter, and his hair a fiery red compared to the chocolate that Lucian was used to, but they could practically be twins.

But the smells coming from them... they weren’t right, they didn’t smell like humans should. The blond smelled like a rich cologne that seemed to be covering up something like ozone, with dusty books mixed in, if that made sense. 

The redhead smelled like a snake, and the slightest hints of something volcanic laid under the surface, covered with perfume? 

Then the redhead looked in his direction, and even with the shades on, Lucian could feel they were making eye contact. The man who looked like Peter raised an eyebrow, his nose twitched, and he then smirked before taking a seat.

Lucian decided to focus on the show, it was about to start.

--

“He’s not human.” Crowley pointed out from where he stood off to the side with Aziraphale, eyes on the long haired man from the show. It was weird, he looked oddly familiar, and even from this distance, Crowley swore that the man’s eyes had to be the same shade of hazel as Aziraphale’s own.

Actually, he thought that those two shared the same cute nose. Huh. 

“What makes you say that?” Aziraphale asked.

“I can smell it, he’s not human. There’s undertones of it, but he smells like wolf.”

“A werewolf? Gosh, I haven’t seen one of those in centuries.”

“Mmmm, not since France.”

“What do we do about this?” Aziraphale asked, looking at the man just as Crowley was. He seemed to be waiting for someone after the show. Which had been more fun than Crowley expected, Aziraphale had suffered through it and complained quite often, but Crowley loved tacky horror stuff, and this certainly had it in spades. 

He’d love to shake that Peter Vincent guy’s hand if he could, and maybe give him a few pointers about how to properly move about in leather pants. The demon did have years of experience.

Crowley sighed. “I dunno, I don’t think he’s botherin’ anyone. And it’s not like we’re here to take ‘im down, ya know? He could just be a fan of dumb horror stuff, nothing to worry about, angel.”

“I hope you’re right.” Aziraphale sighed and they heard a shout of a name, Lucian, before a tall, lanky man came running through a set of double doors nearby. He jumped and nearly knocked over the long-haired man, wrapping his long limps around him.

“Hey babe.” Crowley heard the man say, oh! Oh, he recognized the voice, it was that Peter Vincent guy! So he was wearing a wig! Alright, he owed Aziraphale lunch tomorrow.

“And hello to you as well, my love.” Said the other guy, Lucian was it? He kissed Peter on the cheek before whispering something to him, Crowley couldn’t quite catch it over the chattering of the crowd of humans around them. 

Peter frowned, raising an eyebrow, then looked in the direction of him and Aziraphale. Then Crowley watched as he curious smile came to his lips and he got out of Lucian’s arms, walking over with a swagger that Crowley could respect. “Sooooo... did ya like the show?” He started, looking between Aziraphale and Crowley, before he eyed the demon up and down.

“Oh, it was great.” Crowley smirked, crossing his arms, leaning to one side. “Loved that part with the shower of blood comin’ from that one vampire you shanked, made my friend here nearly lose his dinner.”

“I wasn’t expecting it!” Aziraphale scoffed, pouting. “You know I’m not too keen on this spooky stuff.”

“Yeah, well, big spooky fan, me.” Crowley said, seeing that Lucian was walking over. “Anyway, had a great time, it was totally worth the ticket price.”

“It’d better have been, it takes a lot of work to make something that brilliant!” Peter replied before looking at Lucian. “Babe, I’m just not seein’ it.”

“Seeing what?” Aziraphale asked.

“My husband, this is Lucian, Lucian, this is... uhh...”

“Aziraphale.” The angel greeted. “And this is Crowley.”

“Charmed. Yeah, Aziraphale and Crowley, cool, well, Lucian here said that this guy,” Peter gestured at the demon, “looks just like me and I dunno, I’m not seein’ it. I mean, if this is true, nice, I’ve always wanted to hit on myself that wasn’t just me drunkingly flirting with my reflection, but yeah.”

Crowley snorted, looking at Peter. Hmm... alright, he could... kind of see it. Same height, very similar voices, Peter looked a little younger than him, but nah, they were too different, totally different guys. Both with a great taste in black clothing, Crowley could respect that.

“Actually,” Peter continued, “I’m thinkin’ Lucian, you and Aziraphale could be the twins here.”

“What?” They both said at once and hey, Peter had a point. Crowley could see it now that they were closer together, Lucian just looked like what Aziraphale would be if he were a werewolf.

Actually, that was a pretty hot look, and with that leather jacket included... he wondered if he could convince the angel to wear one similar to it... 

“My love, I do not see anything about this man that makes us look like twins.” Lucian frowned.

“I have to agree with Lucian here. I’m not sure where you see the resemblance.” Aziraphale said, looking rather puzzled.

Peter made a noise, rolling his eyes. “Uhg, you’re blind or somethin’, it’s so obvious. Maybe it’s some weird thing for supernatural beings to look similar or have a counterpart, I dunno.”

Crowley raised an eyebrow. “So, you’re aware?”

“Yes.” Lucian nodded. “You and your friend here are... not human, are you? I can smell it.”

“And we can smell that you are not as well.” Crowley gestured to Peter. “Him included, it seems.”

Peter shrugged. “Hey, it takes some immortality to look this good, ya know? Come on up to my penthouse for drinks, I’m sure we’ve got a lot we could discuss. Plus...” He looked at them both, smirking. “I’m not quite done checking you two out.”

There was a loud sigh from Lucian, who mumbled something under his breath. Aziraphale looked a little flushed at this bluntness, but Crowley grinned. “Sounds like a fun evenin’, lead the way, Mr. Vampire Hunter.”

Well, this Vegas trip just got interesting.

--

Peter is straight up the DT character I know who would try to get another DT character into his bed in the first five meetings of meeting them. 

#john's drabbles #lucian x peter vincent #ineffable husbands #good omens extended universe

[bri-flores]

Bloody Wickedness

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland 

Format: Series 

Reader: Pregnant, female reader 

Warnings: Violence, blood 

Other Info : Credit to @tri3tri​ as this was inspired by Canon and Second Wife AU. Not a lot of Yandere! Malleus until the next chapter.

Summary: [Y/n] successfully escaped Malleus suffocating obsession, but with a heavy price. Now she is running for her and her unborn child's safety. Will [Y/n] survive the brutality of the angry villagers?

‘Run, [Y/n]! Just run!’

The lass kept repeating that to herself. She took a quick peek over her shoulder to see if she had lost the group of men that kept chasing her. After confirming that the men were nowhere near her, she decides to stop next to a dark pine tree that was close to a lake. [Y/n] took this time to catch her breath. Using up the little energy she had left [Y/n] went up to the lake’s water to check her reflection. The maiden was horrified by what she saw, her silky [h/c] hair now tangled up, lips tainted with dry blood, the once beautiful dress was now ripped to shreds, and with bruises as well as deep cuts adorning her fragile body. [Y/n] kneeled down to grab a bit of water and began to splash it on her bloody face. The noise of crunching leaves and sticks could now be heard getting closer. This made [Y/n] tensed up in fear. Struggling to get up in time to make a run for it, but it was too late. One of the men had grabbed her shoulders and scream in her ear,

“Useless human! Useless human!” Another man came in front of her with a long log in his hands. “Kill the human!”, the man chanted. The girl could hear the others chant as well. [Y/n] could feel the fear eating her alive. She closed her eyes in surrender, letting a few small tears escape in the process. Out of nowhere she felt a painful burning sensation on her back. [Y/n]’s mind screamed out as the pain drove through her back repeatedly. The burning pain stabbed her like a scorching knife. She wept at her own suffering. Now all she could hear was the boys around her laughing and singing. She rolled up in a ball of self agony and fear, wishing that the boys would just stop. Purple welts started to form across her back like a disease beginning to spread. It hurt to breathe and she wondered if the boys were ever going to stop.

The men evenly stopped after beating her for several minutes, but only because one of them wanted to see the damage they had caused. A tall man came up to her and pulled her dress down revealing dark purple and bloody bruises lining her back. The others thinking that it wasn’t enough punishment decided to start back up to beating her again. [Y/n] opened her eyes back up and the fear and agony that once was there now consumed by hatred and anger. Her body trembled with fury, she let out a loud scream of pain that sent birds flying away. Eyes that once held a fine [e/c] hue were suddenly becoming red. [Y/n] could no longer feel the logs hit her back, but could still sense a burning sting. Her mind went blank after that. Unlike the girl, -who could no longer feel anything- the others begin to feel a burning sensation all over their body. They scream and twitch in agony. The pain increased in waves and small lulls giving them false hope of an end. She could hear the men around her screaming and shouting. As time passed the screams began to get cut out, one by one. After all the screams died, the girl came back to her senses. [Y/n] got up from her curled up positing and saw the men scattered on the ground. They looked like broken dolls over the bloody grass, limbs at awkward angles and heads twisted in such a way that there was no way they could possibly be alive. Now the young men have become abandoned shells left to rot in the open.

After seeing the aftermath of the horrific act she had done, the girl could hear the rest of the villagers coming for her. The images of bright flames and sparks of magic were the only thing her eyes could see. With little time to spare, she jumped into the water. Darkness enveloped her. The cold water closed in around her, filling her with a deep fright. She tried to hold her breath for as long as she could. Dirty water splashed onto her little red eyes. The coldness had started to wrap around her like a blanket. Her heart was beating rapidly in panic with no sign of calming down. The urgency for air was more apparent than ever. Her head began to pound, screaming for oxygen and warmth. With incredible speed [Y/n] had gone up to the surface, gulping at air. Without barely making a sound she went under once again. Sinking down faster than before with her heart hammering harder against her ribs. Nobody had seen her since the villagers were circling around the brutal scene. When [Y/n] could no longer hear the talking of the villagers, she surfaced once more. She noticed that the men's bodies were gone along with the villagers making her eyes go back to [e/c]. 

As the girl began to walk back up to the pine she caught a glimpse of her reflection. Deep wounds sliced her back flesh. It was heavily oozing out blood and there were bluish-purple bruises forming around them. She lightly presses her hand against the center of the cuts and sucking in a sharp breath as the pain spirals all across her batter body. Her legs struggle to keep her up but eventually the burning feeling made her fall to her knees. Colorful sports started to dance around her eyes. She lay on her hands and knees creating blood pools onto the dirt, soaking her bare legs. Pressing her hand to her back sealing one of the wounds shut.

‘It hurt to walk but I need to go now. Malleus can catch me at any time! I have to give my child a better life,’ she thought. Standing up she began to run toward the border at superhuman speed. Most of the wounds heal in the process at an impressive pace. Leaving a trail of blood that a wolf with silver-like fur begins to follow.

A/n: I hope you enjoy this @tri3tri​. This series is a mix of both the Canon and Second Wife AU . The next chapter is coming soon. For my readers out there remember that requests are open. Have a nice day.

~With love Writer 

#yandere malleus draconia #yandere twisted wonderland #tri3tri #tw blood #tw violence