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#i feel like his cloak is too boring in this shot
talesofesther · 1 year
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would you kiss me in a crowded room?
Eddie Munson x Reader
Summary: There was always a push and pull with Eddie. He'll kiss you in an abandoned corner of the library and then barely talk to you in the cafeteria, but will look like a kicked puppy if you so much as think about giving him a cold shoulder. You care for him, deeply, but sometimes, he confuses the shit out of you.
A/N: Let me say already that this is by no means my best work. It's just something I randomly wrote while bored, with a bit of Halloween spirit. Definitely not very proofread.
Masterlist
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The burn of vodka was unpleasant down your throat, still, you kept on drinking, tilting the red solo cup until the last drops of your drink were gone.
You didn't know whose house this was, honestly you didn't care. Halloween was one of your favorite holidays, and when a friend finds you a party to go to, you don't ask many questions. As a last-minute call, you snatched a long, black cloak and a witch's hat from your closet, pairing it with a dark dress you hadn't used in a few good years and a pair of boots so you had a costume.
The music was loud in your ears, you could feel the drums of it on your chest; the lights were dimmed inside, making it hard for you to avoid stepping on the many discarded cups that littered the floor whilst you danced. Tina held onto one of your hands, moving wildly around and taking you with her. She smelled of alcohol, you did too probably, but you knew for a fact that she drank twice as more as you did.
"You're making me dizzy," you giggled, holding onto her shoulder with your free hand.
"Come on, I feel like I'm dancing with a mummy, you're too stiff," the girl jumped on the spot as if to emphasize her point, the cat ears she had on her head bounced with the movement.
"You're the one that's too loose," you said, but followed her lead nonetheless.
You had long since lost count of how many hours had passed since you arrived when the house started to feel way too cramped. You desperately needed fresh air.
The backyard was huge, shiny pumpkins adorned the stone path that lead you to the pool and lounge chairs, there was a patch of grass with a few trees further back, fake spider webs and makeshift ghosts were hung up on the branches; it felt like a different world compared to the raging party inside. Just a few people stood outside, mostly ones that were too far gone on drinks, and, to your surprise, one Eddie Munson sulking in one of the lounge chairs, beneath the starry sky.
The leather of his jacket was shining with the few lights that surrounded the pool, he wasn't looking at you and you took that as an opportunity to look at him. His eyes were dark all around, eyeliner painting the lids, and he had fake blood down the corner of his lips and to his neck, all giving his skin a paler tone.
You smirked, the chilly wind made your cloak flutter around you, walking up to Eddie with one boot in front of the other, "vampire Eddie," his eyes shot quickly to you, a smile of his own already forming and only increasing yours, "I like it. Suits you."
Eddie leaned back on his palms, his eyes nothing but black orbs in the night as he looked you up and down. "A witch," he began, and you couldn't help but feel heat creeping up your neck because of his attention.
He got up, extending a hand to you and wiggling his fingers until you took it, only for him to turn you around so he could see you from all angles, "always knew you were magical, sweetheart."
Eddie's voice was all warm and sultry, sending a pleasant shiver down your back. You ducked your head, your hand still gently held up by his, "you flatter me, Munson."
"Nothing but the truth passes through these lips," as if there was a gravity field around you, Eddie lowered your hands only to intertwine his fingers with yours. He smiled something shy, a timid tilt of lips as the only telling against the confidence in his tone. "I wasn't expecting to see you here," he said, his free hand tugging on the edge of your cloak as if you'd slip away.
Maybe he knew you better than you gave him credit for. "Roll for perception?" You raised an eyebrow at him, letting go and stepping away to walk along the pool's edge.
You heard him groan, and then the quick steps that followed before his shoulder bumped yours as he fell into step with you. Personal space was not in Eddie's dictionary when it came to you, not that you minded.
"Come on, I was going to call, but I came for just a few sales, last minute thing," his curls bounced with his steps, lower lip caught between his teeth and eyebrows up as he looked at you through his lashes. Eddie was nervous. "Humour me," he tried.
"Like you wouldn't roll a natural twenty," you muttered under your breath, gazing at your reflection in the pool's water.
Eddie's fingertips grazed the top of your ear as he pushed back strands of hair. Only to see you better, he told himself. "You know I would," he kept his voice just as quiet, the music coming from inside the house almost clouded it.
Your eyes closed for a brief moment just so you could turn to him, just so you could take a breath and will your heart to calm down. "I came with a few friends," you shrugged, trying to placate him, "and they're probably wondering where I am, so…"
"Do you wanna come back with me?" Eddie blurted out before you could leave. "We can smoke or, I could play something for you, or- or just be together?"
The small smile you gave him then held no happiness at all. You grasped the collar of his jacket in one hand to hold him in place, just long enough so you could peck his lips. A kiss that could barely be called a kiss, it wasn't the first and wouldn't be the last. "See you around, Eddie." You squeezed his hand before you turned to leave in lieu of saying; I'm not mad, but two can play this game.
Eddie didn't fight it when you walked back into the house, but he should have. His lips still tingled with the ghost of your touch as he gripped at his hair, mumbling countless curses under his breath. He considered throwing himself into the pool, if anything, the coldness of the water would numb everything else he was feeling.
You played some bear pong, gave Tina a peck on the lips in a game of spin the bottle, and danced some more, anything to keep your mind busy. But it didn't take long for you to find Eddie again, he was leaning back on the kitchen counter, red cup in hand, and looking for something in the crowd.
The burn of vodka was unpleasant, but it gave you a dash of confidence you wouldn't dream of while sober. Granted, the colorful lights did little to kill the darkness of the house, and most people were already beyond remembering anything tomorrow morning.
So it was easy to mold your way amongst the bodies, to walk the rest of the way to the kitchen and to him, before you could think better of it.
Nonchalant as ever, you stopped beside Eddie without looking at him, picking up a skull-shaped candy and throwing it in your mouth.
You could feel him shuffling closer to you, the warmth of him blossoming a color in your heart you couldn't find anywhere else — much as you might try. Eddie took your hand, a bold move considering the crowded room, he brought it to his lips and kissed each knuckle. You still didn't look at him.
"Don't shut me out," his voice was so low compared to the banging of the music, you felt more than heard the shape of his words on your fingertips, "please."
Eddie spoke softly and looked at you even softer, his eyes were glistening bright with the colorful lights when you finally met them with your own. There was always a push and pull with Eddie. He'll kiss you in an abandoned corner of the library and then barely talk to you in the cafeteria; he won't call you to parties but will look like a kicked puppy if you so much as think about giving him a cold shoulder. You care for him, deeply, but sometimes, he confuses the shit out of you.
"I won't, when you don't give me a reason to." You snatched your hand back, ignoring how it tugged at your heartstrings.
Dark curls fell like a curtain over Eddie's eyes when he ducked his head, his fingers rhythmically tapping the counter beside him; "I was just… trying to give you an out."
"And who said I want one?"
"You should."
"That's not for you to decide," you said a bit harsher, causing Eddie to finally look at you again, his eyes twitching as he tried to hold your gaze. You sighed and took off your witch's hat, running a hand through your hair in frustration. "Whatever, I don't care," you shook your head and walked away, not looking back. Your feet carried you all the way to the front porch, as far away from Eddie as you could get.
You braced your hands on the railings, already considering walking back home because you were so done with this party.
"What's a pretty face doing here alone?"
An involuntary groan escaped you when you heard his voice, James or Josh or something else irrelevant was his name.
"'m not alone," you grumbled, stepping away when he invaded your space.
"Looks pretty alone to me." He smelled strongly of alcohol and weed, slurring his words as he reached for your waist. "Let's get a drink, sweet thing."
"No thanks, no company at all is much more appealing," you smiled all sweet, hoping he'd just give up.
"What's your problem?" Apparently not. He made to grab onto your arm, but ringed fingers caught hold of his first.
Of course, he followed you.
"She said no, man. Just drop it," Eddie said, steadily, as he subtly pushed the man away and stood in front of you.
"What's it to you, freak?" The guy puffed his chest out as she spat the words. "Mind your own business."
Part of you knew where this was going. You curled a finger around the belt loop of Eddie's jeans, tugging gently. "Eddie leave it, let's go."
Eddie chuckled, straightening his posture and standing a few inches taller than the guy, "oh I am, and why don't you mind your business, get in there, down a few more drinks, and do us all a favor and pass out, yeah?"
As much as you might like the protective side of Eddie, it was the wrong thing to say. The guy got red with anger, if anything for the sole reason of having someone talk back to him. Neither you nor Eddie saw his punch coming, fist colliding squarely with Eddie's cheek and nose.
A few sober-ish people gathered around quickly to hold him back, but the damage was already done. Eddie brought a hand up to his nose and felt wetness there, blood was dripping steadily from one nostril and mixing with the fake one from his makeup.
The crimson color made your stomach twist and turn, a knot forming in your throat. You grabbed the hand Eddie wasn't holding under his nose and started dragging him away from the party. He followed you blindly, his eyes were half-lidded because of the sharp pain.
Your boots crushed the damp lawn as you looked around, the music from inside the house growing lower and lower, "where's your van?"
"Just around the corner," he motioned to an empty street, far away from the prying eyes; it was barely illuminated by yellow street lights that had bugs chasing their warmth. A quiet corner of the world.
You stomped your way there, throwing your hat over the van's hood once you reached it. "The hell were you thinking? Taunting him like that, do you have a death wish?"
"I was thinking that he wasn't gonna give up on you that easy," Eddie pulled away his hand and grimaced at the sight. He could feel the metallic taste of blood on his upper lip.
"Oh, so you make him punch you?" You crossed your arms to keep yourself from reaching out, palms already slick with perspiration.
Eddie brushed the sleeve of his jacket under his nose, hissing at the sting it caused. He somewhat curled in on himself, too aware of your eyes not leaving him once, "I had it under control."
"Evidently," you scoffed and Eddie winced at your tone. It hurt you just as much. You sighed, leaned your head back — the dark sky was full of clouds, only a few stars peeking through, the wind only getting colder — and dropped the act.
You walked up to Eddie, all careful and slow just as you did with the stray cats you wanted to pet, raising both hands to cup his cheeks; "let me see that."
Eddie gulped when you touched him, growing stiff, as if bracing for a scolding. You saw his eyes get wet when your thumbs brushed his cheekbones, a tiny tear clinging to his lower lashes that you chose to ignore.
"I don't think it's broken," you took hold of your cloak, raising the ends of it to his nose. You gently cleaned away the blood, tracing the shape of his cupid's bow. Eddie scrunched his eyebrows when you touched the bridge of his nose and the reddish part of his cheek, whimpering a little. You muttered apologies under your breath.
The moment felt way more intimate than it should. Eddie reached for the hand you had on his other cheek, holding it in place when he kissed your palm.
You sighed. This guy.
You dropped your forehead to his shoulder in some sort of an awkward embrace; "you can't do shit like that, Eddie." You let go of your black cloak, sneaking your hand under his jacket, under his shirt, palm brushing the warm skin of his waist. "Can't get yourself hurt 'cause of me."
The music of the party, the crickets singing and the sizzling of the street lamps were nothing but background noise. Eddie kissed your temple, arms closing around your shoulders and pulling you closer; bits of the affection he had for you spilling more and more. "Did you mean it?"
You frowned, tracing random patterns on his back and feeling his goosebumps under your fingertips; "mean what?"
"That you-" he hesitated, as if the words were choking him. "That you don't care?"
Subconsciously, you squeezed him tighter, "of course not."
Eddie nodded, you felt it, an exaggerated motion to try and calm himself down. He tucked his head on your shoulder; "okay," the word came out so shaky you barely recognized it.
You pulled away and Eddie almost panicked, but you kept your hold on him, only moving to wipe away the last droplet of blood that escaped his nose; "I do care about you," you started, knowing damn well he needed to hear you say it to believe it. You traced the shape of his eyebrow with your thumb, all the way to his hairline to bury your fingers in his curls, trying to memorize every curve of him, "so much, Eddie. But you have to let me."
"I want to," he breathed, pupils were blown wide and shining bright as he cupped your cheek, rings cool against your skin. "More than anything, I want this," he said, to the way you clung to each other.
So what's stopping you? You silently asked with a tilt of your head.
The nervous energy bounced off of him as Eddie ran a tongue over his bottom lip. You're not sure if he knows it, but Eddie’s face plays out his emotions like a book. "But you shouldn't settle for someone like me." He said it quietly, as if speaking the words out loud would make you believe them too.
"Someone like you?" You let out a breathy chuckle, squishing his cheeks with both hands and forcing his eyes to not leave you. "Eddie you're such an easy one to love, you gotta know that. There's no one else I'd rather be with."
Though a single tear met the pad of your thumb, Eddie smiled, shape a bit crooked because of your hands; you dropped them to his hips again, waiting, wishing he wouldn't pull away.
He dug his teeth into his bottom lip, smiling something teary, hair bouncing when he nodded his head; "Yeah?"
The small word was filled with hope and desperation, almost making you tear up as well.
"Yeah." You'd tell him that every day if he asked you to.
With his heart almost beating out of his chest, Eddie leaned down, brushing his nose with yours. And any other coherent thoughts slipped his mind when his upper lip grazed yours. He caught your lips with his in no hurry, in a way he'd never done before; clinging to you with everything he had, eyebrows just a bit furrowed, and tilting his head to be as close as possible. You could feel him, in every sense of the word.
Eddie tasted like sunshine and chocolate and just a bit like blood; most of all, he tasted like the prettiest of promises.
⋆* ☾ ⋆*・゚:⋆*・゚
Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are very much appreciated. <3
Eddie’s taglist: @milkiane @bookfrog242 @alicefallsintotherabbithole @science--hoes @cherrypieyourface @tssf-imagines @daph-505 @astream-ofconsciousness @fentyreligion @fantasylovestoryme @justabeautiful-letdown @crazyrapunzel @yessica41 @dancing-hillary @bakugouswh0r3 @jakebasement @zervopoulouu @forverdaydreamer-blog @fromthedt @oeuryale @mcueveryday @witchbinchstories @call-me-magpie @loveshineslikethesky @luvmybbies @tvserie-s-world @agirlsguidetolove @hallothankmas @sweetpeapod @forsaken-letters @hazydespair @fangirling-4-ever @electric-cabaret @ollyoxenfrees @twinkofmydreams @paola-carter @masterlistmanic @xceafh @andraimeide @esoltis280 @eddielives1986 @totallynotkaibiased @just-love-reading 
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xxkitty13 · 5 months
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Halloween Special
LA Buggy x Fem Reader- One Shot
NSFW, Violence, Blood (slight gore)
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A/N: I know Halloween is over, but I was not able to post this sooner. If you're still in the Halloween spirit or just wanting some smut, enjoy!
It is the night before Halloween, the local bar is filled with people celebrating the arrival of the spooky holiday. Tourists love to visit this particular island due to its large festival on Hallows' Eve. Boats pack the dock; visitors swarm the lively town in hopes to get wasted. Despite the variety of people, the island has not run into any problems. This will all soon change.
The bar reeked of alcohol, drunk men stumble in and out the doors. Women too pass their limits, dancing the night away. With the arrival of the tourist, single locals took the opportunity to find some fun. The worn out sailors were easy prey, but not everyone looked for a fling. Unfortunately, y/n was dragged into this mess. Her friends, Syalie and Blev, would get bored of the men in their town. Every year they looked forward for the fresh meat.
"Loosen up girl, dance with us," the slim tall blonde slurred.
"Syalie is right. We can't be the only ones having fun tonight," the woman with pink hair screamed. She is the shortest of the trio, but always managed to stand out when they partied.
"You guys are passed drunk."
Her friends only laughed as they sandwiched her at the dance floor. She too had her fair share of drinks, even so she did not like to black out at parties. You never know who’s watching.
Nevertheless, the ambiance at the party seemed safe enough. She joined the dancing duo, enjoying the music. The alcohol is getting to her, she swayed her hips away not caring how ridiculous it might be. Y/n began to get carried away before she slipped. She fell back, hitting a cloaked man at the nearby table. The other covered figures gasped. She sobered up and immediately stood up. The man looked at the empty mug and large wet stains on the bottom half of his body.
"I am so sorry..."
Her hands covered her face in embarrassment. It is a good thing no one else noticed the small incident as people were too focused on partying.
The man gripped his fist and banged it on the table before looking at the woman. Y/n felt her face become hot, scared of what the man will do to her. Her legs trembled, slowly backing away.
"Don't worry about it"— he raised his gaze at her—"you'll just have to repay me another time."
Even though his hood covered his identity, she could clearly see his green-piercing eyes staring into her soul. That look felt surreal. Feeling uneasy of the situation, she only nodded back and grabbed her friends.
"Please can we leave?"
"I don't know, can you?" Blev's head bobbed, giggling away.
"I'm being serious, I'm scared."
"Ugh okay. There's no hot guys here anyway," Syalie mumbled.
Y/n grabbed the two women and barged out of the bar. She could still feel the mysterious man's eyes burning through her back. There's something sinister about him and she did not want to find out. She shook that weird notion out her mind, hoping to never see him again.
🕷⋆⁺₊⋆♱♡♱⋆⁺₊⋆🕷
The following morning the townspeople prepared for the night's festival. Meanwhile, the girls stayed in the comfort of their beds. They awoke with a massive hangover and had pains throughout their body. Y/n overheard Blev rustling above her— the two slept on a bunk bed. The three shared a small house together and all had small jobs to pay their monthly rent. Y/n and Blev shared the master bedroom and Syalie occupied the second room of the house.
With groggy eyes, y/n sat up, staring into space. She had a nightmare prior to waking up. A dark presence watched over her in the dream, always lurking at every corner. It brought shivers down her spine. She shook that weird feeling away and hesitantly got out of bed. They have a long day ahead of them.
The women volunteered to help set up the plaza. Balloons were attached to light posts, skeletons hanged at the tree branches, spiderwebs overlayed the bushes, and other spooky items were displayed. The festival would begin at sunset, they hurried home to get ready.
It’s not Halloween without costumes. Y/n dressed as a jester, Blev as a vampire, and Syalie as a cowgirl. Simple outfits to assist at the food stands. They would still enjoy the event after the stands close and the actual party would begin once the children go to bed.
“Whew, what a night. I’m glad our shift is over with,” Blev sighed in relief.
“Well let’s get going then,” y/n said closing the door of the stand.
Not even taking a step away, a man who’s dressed as a pirate approached the woman.
“Am I too late?”
They all looked at each other confused.
“Yes, it’s closed,” Syalie replied.
“Aw, well that’s too bad. I was hoping I would’ve made it in time.”
The pirate walked closer. “You better reopen,” he pointed at Syalie.
“What? No. I said we’re closed.”
“Wrong.” He then whistled loudly, three other men dressed as pirates emerged from the bushes.
“Destroy that stand and the others while you’re at it.”
“Yes captain!” they shouted.
The gang of pirates broke the windows of each stand, ripping apart the cash registers. They threw all the money in large bags, only leaving behind destruction.
“No! What’s wrong with you guys, stop playing pirates and gives us back the money!” Blev yelled.
“Oh honey, we’re the real deal,” the captain laughed.
He noticed all women wore matching bracelets. Each one made of gold— jackpot.
“Give me those bracelets,” he demanded.
“No, these belong to us,” Blev stated.
“If I have to cut your hands off for them, so be it,” the pirate threatened.
Y/n immediately threw her bracelet to the man, nudging her friends to do the same. They hesitated, but there was nothing they could do about it.
“Thank you ladies, it was nice doing business you,” he snickered.
“Come on fellas, to the ship!”
The gang ran off to the woods, leaving the mess they made at the street.
“We could have fought them off,” Syalie huffed.
“No, we’re weak. Our lives are more valuable than those bracelets,” y/n said.
“I don’t care. We worked hard for those and we will get them back.”
Syalie stormed into their stand, pulling out a large kitchen knife.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m going after them,” she stormed off to the woods.
“Are you crazy? They’ll kill you! Y/n what do we do?” Blev shouted.
“Come on, let’s stop her before she gets hurt.”
The two chase after their friend, who began to quicken her pace. They called out to Syalie, but she already sprinted into the dark woods.
“It’s so dark, how can she track them with no light?” Blev questioned, breathing heavily.
“I don’t kn-”
A loud scream echoed. It’s high pitched, most likely from a woman.
“Syalie!”
The women hurried their pace. The screams became louder and louder. A light emerged as they ran closer and soon came across the gang of pirates. Syalie rustled against the captain, who had her at a chokehold.
He laughed, watching the poor girl struggle. He snatched the knife out of her hand and pointed it to her neck.
“Let her go!” Y/n and Blev yelled.
The pirates, who held torches, stopped their scene and looked at the women.
“Well, well, well. . . looks like we have more fun coming our way.”
He placed the sharp part of the knife on Syalie’s neck.
“You’re fools and now you’ll die with your friend,” he cackled.
The man lifted his arm up, ready to slit her throat. Syalie closed her eyes awaiting her gruesome death, but seconds passed by and nothing happened. She opened her eyes and felt a warm liquid drip on her neck. The knife dropped to the ground and more liquid dripped on her clothes.
With his grip gone, the woman managed to free herself. The captain fell face forward and that’s when they noticed a large blade protruding out his mouth. Syalie gaped at the sight, he’s dead.
His crew met a similar fate. All falling one by one. The women scream, hearing the gurgling sounds from the dying men. They crouched to ground, hoping not to get hit by the flying weapons.
A sinister laugh echoed around them. The sound of footsteps drew close. A faint light slowly emerged from the other side of the woods.
“You know, it’s rude not to say thank you.”
Y/n looked up to see the man. His torch covered his face, though she noticed he wore a large hat. Taking a closer look, it seemed to be a captain’s hat. She gasped, they’re more pirates on the island.
The mysterious man walked towards the dead captain, retrieving the blade out his skull. Blood oozed out, only making Syalie gag.
He placed the torch in the same hole he took out the blade, burying it deep. The pirate then sat on his dead body. They could all see his face now. His red nose shined brightly from the flame’s light. The glitter on his face shimmered with every flick the fire made. The face paint resembled close to y/n’s makeup, only lacking the cross bones and large painted mouth. Y/n is captivated by the man’s features, whose cheekbones stood out the most, giving him a sculptured look.
“Now I only came to take out the competition, but I just remembered that I’m missing my compensation,”— he pointed at y/n— “you owe me.”
Perplexed by this, her eyebrows furrowed. “Owe you? I don’t know who you are.”
“Tsk,” he shook his head. “You caused a mess at the bar last night. Do you know how uncomfortable it is for a cold drink to fall on your groin?”
It took her a minute to digest the accusation, then it clicked. He’s the cloaked man she accidentally spilled the drink on.
“That was you?” she gasped.
"Ah, I see you remembered now."
"Why did you do that?! Now he's going to kill us too!" Blev angrily called out.
"I-It was an accident, I swear!"
"Who are you anyway? You better not hurt my friend," Syalie grunted, holding her bruised neck.
"Me? Does my look not ring a bell?"
The three women looked at each other, having no clue about the man's identity.
"With that big nose of yours, you're obviously more of a clown than a pirate," Syalie giggled.
The pirate's face frowned. "Nose?" He rose from his seat, angered by the comment. "What did you say? I'd shut my mouth if I were you or you'll end up like him." He picked up the torch, now covered in blood, and stomped on the man's skull.
The crunch sound made everyone gag in disgust. Brain matter had splashed out, little specks hit Blev, making her freak out. Y/n could not bear to watch the indented skull crack before them. The clown pirate removed his bloody boot and wiped the red liquid on the ground.
"I'm Buggy. . . and I'll be your worst nightmare," he boasted.
He approached y/n, who shook in fear. With her shaking legs she able to take a couple of steps back.
"As it turns out, this island doesn't have much to offer. However, me and my crew found something worth our time," he eyed y/n up and down, giving her a devious smile. “Cute costume.”
"You all will be given a head start to be fair. I'll give you 2 minutes to hide before we hunt you down."
"Hunt? We're not prey," Blev said.
Ignoring her comment, "Once you're in our hands, there will be no escape."
He chuckled, retrieving back from y/n. "Let the hunt begin."
Buggy blew his torch out and the rest of the fallen torches from the dead crew went out too. It is pitch black now. The women, in utter fear, ran away from the spot. They could no longer see each other, but the jingles of the jester hat helped them stay close.
"Let's stick together," y/n huffed out.
"Okay!" The two agreed.
They ran with all their might, barely avoiding stumps and branches on the ground. The lights from the plaza became visible ahead. It's a small hint of relief, but time is still ticking.
"What do we do? We can't let him find us. I'm so scared," Blev cried.
"We don't have time to think, let's keep moving forward. The crowd at the festival should hide us," y/n grabbed their hands and rushed into the plaza.
"We should tell the police, they'll help us," Syalie mentioned. Her friends nod in agreement.
People were already drunk and danced away in the middle of the plaza. The smell of smoke and sweat filled the air. This year's festival brought in a larger crowd, making it impossible to move around. The women tried to hold onto each other, but the dancing people would bump into them. Blev was the first to get swallowed in the crowd. Y/n tried had lost her grip as a large man shoved against her.
"Blev!"
"Y/n! Keep moving, I'll find my way to the police station!"
Her and Syalie continued sliding their way in the chaotic mess. Syalie felt a pair of hands grab the sides of her hips. She snapped her head to see the owner of the hands.
"Where are you going little lady?" The drunken man mummbled.
"Ew let me go!" She slapped his hand away.
The angered man swung at her, but she managed to avoid the hit as the man's fist connected with another person. A fight broke out between the two and Syalie was shoved against the people moving out of the way.
"Syalie, where did you go?!"
Y/n, in midst of the screaming, had no luck. Her friends are now separated from each other, this is not good. Regardless, she composed herself and continued to find a way out. It was not long before she made it out of the suffocating crowd. She regained her breath and looked around the vicinity. It's to her luck a police man stood watch at the door of a building.
"Please, I need help!" she ran towards them. "There's someone trying to kill us!"
The cop turned around and gave her a puzzled look. "What are you talking about? Are you drunk?" He questioned.
She stood before him and realized it was not a cop. He was only waiting for his friend to come out of the haunted house. She stood alone now, the police station happened to be at the other side of crowd. It would take another blow on her time, it’s worth a shot. As she took a step forward, a gliding motion slipped past her head. The blade hit the door, causing a small crack.
Y/n looked back from where it came from and felt her heart sink. It’s Buggy. His eyes seem to devour her whole. Without a second thought she entered inside the haunted house.
Right off the rift, a scare actor jumped at her. She yelped, only making her panicked state worse. The door flinged opened, Buggy knocked the actor to the ground as he entered.
“Times up,” he snickered.
Adrenaline rushed through her blood vessels as she bolted deeper into the attraction. The eerie ambience added to her freight. Sounds of wailing agony filled the dark hallway. Another actor jumped out of a small closet. Buggy’s heavy footsteps got closer, y/n pushed the person away and hid in the closet.
The confused actor stood up from the floor and turned to see the pirate clown right in front of him. He punched them right in the jaw, causing them to hit the wall harshly.
“Oh darling, you can run, but you can’t hide.”
Y/n held her hands over her mouth, hiding the heavy breathing. She heard Buggy leave the area, the sound of his footsteps faded away. Her breath hitched. She used her clammy hand to turn the knob of the door, the hinges creak at the movement. She slowly pushed it open, avoiding the high pitch sounds of the hinges.
The door covered a partial part of the right hallway. The darkness made it hard to see, she then turned her head left. The coast is clear, or so she thought. A large pair of hands grabbed her body from behind. Buggy had hidden behind the door, waiting to jump at his prey. He held his hand over her mouth and the other gripped the torso. He shoved her in the closet once again, closing the door behind them.
"Shhh, they'll hear us, or do you want me to kill them?" he whispered.
A light shined through the cracks of the door, footsteps followed and continued down the hallway. Y/n almost pissed herself at the predicament. Her heart pounded with all its might. The lub-dub sound is loud enough to ring through her eardrums, Buggy felt the pumping of her blood vessels.
The pirate reeled her in closer, squeezing his arm slightly under her bust. The woman's body shivered in absolute fear, the jingle of the bells filled the tiny room. "Calm down, love."
He loosens the grip on her, and y/n takes the opportunity to bite through his gloved hand. "Fuck!" he yelled.
She flings the door open and runs down the hallway, the bells ringing along the way. Buggy chuckled and followed the sound. She came across the stairs and decided to go up. It's then she realized her mistake, there's only a couple of rooms and dead ends.
"You have nowhere to go, so give it up," Buggy teased, heading up the stairs.
Despite having no way out, she dashed to the end of the hallway. Suddenly a tight grip squeezed her throat, the force pinned her to the ground. Her hands felt the source of the choking— it’s a hand. With widen eyes, she screamed in shock of the deed. Buggy hovered over her body, his raised arm had a missing hand.
“The look on your face is priceless,” he laughed.
“Please, don’t kill me!” she cried out.
Buggy’s hand let go of her throat and instead grabbed both of her wrist in place. “Kill you? Why would I do that to such a pretty little thing.” He crouched down, his face leaned in.
“Y-you’re not going to kill me? Then why are you hunting me down?”
“For the thrill,” he let go of her wrist as he stood up, his hand clicking back in place.
Y/n sat up and crawled a bit away from him.
“What type of sick game are you playing?”
He let out a small chuckle, “A fun one.”
“You psycho,” she approached the pirate and gave him a hard slap on his left cheek. The hit stung her hand.
Buggy is applaud by the action and held onto his stinging cheek. Y/n regretted that, but it felt so good to let our her frustration. She jumped back, awaiting for his outlash, but the pirate only laughed.
“Oh, you’re feisty one. I like that.”
“You’re weird.”
“Very,” he smirked, removing hand off his wrist once more.
Silence filled the hallway. The tension between the two arose. His green orbs stared into her eyes, the difference in power is obvious. It became rather awkward, not knowing what to say about the uncomfortable situation.
“So what do you want from me?” she managed to spat out.
He hummed, “I want you.”
A flash of heat rippled through her face. “Me?”
“I saw you last night at the bar and the way you danced captivated me. You’re the treasure I seek after.”
In shock of his confession, she walked closer and slapped him across the face.
“You could’ve just asked me that night! Instead you pursue me and made me think I was going to die,” she screamed at him.
“Is that a yes?” he held the side of his face, grinning.
“H-huh? N-n, wait. . . I-”
Buggy placed his hands on her hips, swiftly wrapping his arms around her waist. She stopped her rambling and covered her flustered face with her hands.
With his lips centimeters away from her ear, he murmurs, “Come on, let me show you a good time to replace the trouble I caused you.”
His sweet voice is tempting. He then proceeded to gently nibble on her earlobe, causing a small mewl to escape her mouth. His member twitched at the sound.
“May I?” his lips slightly rubbed against her neck.
Y/n’s hands rest on the side of his shoulders, she turned her head to allow access to the spot. “Mhm,” she softly hummed.
He first gave a small peck on her warm skin, followed by a few more trailing down her neck. She rolled her head back, taking in the sweet touch of his lips. Buggy thrilled by her response, decided to finally go feral. Grabbing the woman he barged into a nearby room. Props lay on the available bed, with his floating hand he pushed them to the ground. He closed the door behind them, locking it.
He tossed y/n onto the bed, who managed to avoid sliding off the edge.
“Get ready darling, I’m about to give you a night you’ll never forget,” he removed his brown coat and threw it to the ground. His striped vest allowed a full revelation of his muscles.
He removed his captain’s hat, “You like what you see?”
Embarrassed, she directed her gaze off his biceps. Buggy approached the woman laying in front of him, removing his clothing, except for his briefs. His built is lean, hair covered his body and his happy trail made y/n gleam in excitement.
“As much as I love your jester look, you don’t need it any more,” he ripped apart the part portion of the top and removed the hat.
She held onto her bra as he ripped apart her pants. The cold air raised goosebumps all over skin. A wave of shame came across her, she’s practically nude in front of a man she barely knows.
“What’s wrong baby? Don’t be shy. . .” Buggy attacked her neck, letting out his hunger for the taste of her skin.
Y/n hitched at the loving warmth on the side of her neck. He sucked on her warm flesh, leaving behind a large red mark to claim her as his. His now bare hand cupped her cheek, his face leaned in for a kiss. The pirate’s red nose made the kiss interesting, but it didn’t bother her. In midst of the excitement, she gently bit his bottom lip, pulling it so slightly. His eyes darken and deliberately smooched her, letting his tongue loose in her cavern.
Their tongues met, dancing away in the warm enclosure. Y/n’s hands pulled Buggy’s head in, deepening the passionate kiss. He sucked on her tongue, enjoying the small mewls she would make. The two stop to catch their breaths, he looked down at her. His red makeup made a mess, the smeared paint covered her mouth.
He took a scoot back, his face lingered above her covered breast. He grasped the bra and ripped it off her chest, exposing the lovely sight. His hands cupped each boob, squeezing them gently. His thumbs pressed on her needy nipples, caressing them with ease. He squeezed her hard buds, making her let out a small moan.
“You like that?” he sultry whispered.
Y/n’s blushed face only stared at his working hands on her breast. He chuckled as his mouth gobbled her left tit. He nipped at her bud, pulling at it gently.
“Oh-” she gaped out, enjoying the warmth on her breast.
Buggy sucked on each nipple as he continued his play with the other. His tongue would swirled between each needy bud, the tip purposely running by the small opening. He left the swollen nipples and kissed her chest, trailing down to her stomach. Her back arched as she felt her lower regions flutter. His kisses stopped at the trim of her panties.
With a pull of his teeth, he gritted, “Let’s see how you look like love.” He swiftly removed the panties with the assistance of her legs. Y/n, feeling vulnerable, closed her legs shut. Buggy placed his hands in between her soft thighs. “Be a good girl and open wide for me,” he murmured, kissing the insides of her thighs.
She hesitantly listened, allowing Buggy to take a peak at her most intimate part. He placed his large hand over the exposed flesh, his fingers traces down her wet folds. Shivers trailed down y/n’s spine.
“Tell me, have you ever been touched by a man before?”
The room went silent. Buggy’s index finger slowly made its way to her leaking hole, circling the entrance. She flinched at the touch.
“J-just once. . .”
Buggy couldn’t help to feel jealous at the thought of another man touching her this way. “Hm, you’ll never remember that moment once I’m threw with you,” he said with a devious tone.
A sudden hot sensation ran through her folds. The tip of his tongue flicked her throbbing clit. “Ah,” her soft moans made him hungry for more. He began devour her aroused pussy, lapping the juices that would flow out her small hole. He detached his tongue, fucking the insides of her clenched walls. His thumb pressed gently on her swollen bean, rubbing it just right. The pirate watched as her ecstasy unfolded in front of him.
Y/n toes curled at the motion of his tongue, her fingers gripped his bandana and hair, pushing his face onto her pussy. His stubble scratched her vaginal folds, adding to the stimulation. The tongue reattached back into his mouth, who now softy sucked the dripping wetness from her hole. His hands held her thighs as his textured nose rubbed against her sensitive clit.
She’s ready for the next level, Buggy slipped his index finger in, feeling the warmth swallow it whole. Due to her moaning mess, she did not notice the foreign part inside of her. That’s when his middle finger slid in, he curled them, watching her back arch. Using the same hand, his thumb rubbed against the needy clit as he fingered her.
“Do you want another?” he asked, kissing her shaking thigh.
“Y-yes,” she moaned, rolling her eyes back.
Without hesitation, his ring finger rammed inside of her. He quicken his pace, enjoying the sounds coming out of her sweet mouth. His cock twitched at every sinful moan, his harden erection became more painful by each note. He felt himself give into his instincts, not thinking about the strength of his finger fucking.
He stopped his motion before y/n could reach her climax. She groaned at the lost feeling of his fingers.
“Sorry babe, but I don’t want you having too much fun without me.”
He stood up in front of her, showing the large tent on his briefs. He pulled the fabric down, showing more of his blue fluff. His harden erection sprang up, precum already dripping out of his slit.
“I would love to feel your pretty little mouth on my dick, but I want to make you mine already,” he said stroking his member.
He placed his tip on her pussy, sliding his tip between the wet folds, teasing. Y/n only watched, loving the slight rubbing as he guided the tip over her drenched hole. His dick slowly pushed in, he grunted at the tightness. The girth of his dick stretched the entrance of her flesh, making her yelp.
“It’s ok baby, it’s almost in,” he cooed.
Her pussy took him in nicely, a sweet warmth clenched around him. “Fuck,” he gritted. He continued to push in deeper, feeling his member throb in arousal. “There it goes. . .”
He huffed out as y/n teary eyes caught his attention. With his torso upright, his detached hand wiped the tears off her cheek. The blue fluff of his lower region touched her skin and so did the base of his dick. Practically in the missionary position, he began thrusting inside of her, his hand still cupping her face.
“Nngh-” she held onto his free hand, whimpering.
Buggy used his other arm to hold her thighs as she wrapped around his torso. He started to chase the high, loving the tight sensation on his swollen cock. Pure ecstasy engulfed him, he leaned in to the side of face and snuggled the crook of her neck. Y/n’s hands hugged over his shoulders, taking in each thrust. She cried out, the pounding is rough, but pleasure overtook the stinging pain of each hard blow.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck-”
“Damn, baby. . . I didn’t think you’d be so tight. . .”
Vulgar words filled the room, each one becoming louder and louder; and more incoherent. Buggy lifted his head up to see the incapacitated woman below him, submitting to him. His hand gripped her neck, softly chocking her. She gasped at this action as his fingers tighten around her. Her vision darken, unable to respond back. He loosened his grip and instead grabbed a fistful of her hair.
The pounding became more viscous, the two were a moaning mess. Buggy’s climax approached, he held back his orgasm as much as he could. Sweat glistened on his forehead as his breathing became unstable. His core tighten, ready to unleash his load inside of her. Not able to go any longer, he grunted, letting his hot cum fill her wrecked pussy.
His weak body fell on top of her, barely catching his breath. Despite the intense fucking, y/n has not reached her climax. The pirate removed his soften member, letting the white substance ooze out. His detached hand made its way to her lower region, not caring about touching his own cum, he fingered her. The motion is overwhelming, stimulating her to the max. It’s not long before she reached her orgasm. The two’s heavy breathing filled the quiet room.
He rolled over, pulling her body over his. Her head laid on his hairy chest.
“Oops, I came in you,” he huffed out.
With the wave of pleasure gone, she had clarity over the situation. “What?” she said with a panic voice. “You did that on purpose!”
He chuckled, stroking her hair. “It’s not my fault your legs wrapped around me tightly.”
She sat up next to him, hiding her breast with her arms. “What am I going to do? I can’t have a baby with a pirate. . .”
She the pointed at him. “Pirates are all dead beat fathers, of course you would do this to me!”
He rolled his eyes, “Did you not hear me when I said I’ll make you mine?”
“I-I, what?” she gave him a dumbfounded look.
He got out of the bed and walked over to the pile of clothing on the floor.
“Come get dressed, I’m taking you with me.”
“I can’t. You destroyed my costume.”
“Oh, right. . .”— he grabbed his coat and tossed at her— “use this.”
She sighed and wrapped her body with it. Buggy finished dressing up, he picked up his captain’s hat and placed it on y/n’s head. He smiled as it flopped to the side, obviously too big on her.
“You should be honored to be the captain’s bride,” he smirked.
“Bride? Since when are we getting m-” she was cut off as Buggy lifted her body up, bridal style.
She clenched the flaps of the coat, making sure her skin did not show. She tried to protest, but he stuffed her mouth with glove. The two leave the haunted house, the scare actors look at each other in confusion, not wanting to ask about the situation.
He swiftly carried y/n towards the dock, not caring about the weird looks they received from the festival’s crowd. It didn’t take long before they reached his ship. Once on the deck, he placed her down and she finally spat out the glove.
“You kidnapped me! Who said I’ll go with you?” she yelled.
“Well that’s too bad for you. A pirate takes what he wants,” he snickered.
“What about my friends? I don’t want to leave them behind, they’re practically my sisters!”
Before Buggy could answer, someone interrupted, “We’re back captain!”
Two men aboard the ship, both holding a woman each. The two women happen to be her friends, Blev and Syalie, y/n ran to them. The two embrace their friend.
“Are you guys okay? I’m glad you’re here, but how can this be?” Y/n questioned.
Blev and Syalie, who clearly had smudged makeup, look at each other and back at the the men who brought them to the ship.
“It’s a long story, but we could say the same about you?” Syalie giggled.
Y/n is puzzled about the situation and turned to face Buggy, who only raised his hands up.
“What can I say, Cabaji and Mohji took real good care of your friends.”
She wrinkled her eyebrows together and cringe at the thought of her friends being railed.
“You can’t say you won’t go without your friends. Now, let’s set sail from his miserable island,” he ordered.
Cabaji and Mohji went to their posts, preparing the ship for departure. The three women huddle close, all not taking in the reality of being captured by pirates. Buggy approached them and reached into his pockets, pulling out their gold bracelets. He handed it to them.
“Welcome on board ladies. You are all now apart of my crew, but before you meet everyone, let’s settle you in,” he grabbed y/n’s hand as the other women followed behind.
“Don’t worry love, no one will dare touch you here. Besides, you carry my seed now.”
Y/n blushed at his statement, she held her stomach, not sure if she’d like to carry his offspring. His thumb gently rubbed her hand, assuring her fate with him. She took one last look at the island before they headed before deck. There’s no future for her there, the small jobs would not cut it for the long run.
“Okay, you better not be a dead beat,” she said, squinting at him.
He only laughed, “Of course, you’re mine to take care of.”
Assuring her concern, the four walked down the stairs to the floors below, awaiting the new journey ahead of them.
🕷⋆⁺₊⋆♱♡♱⋆⁺₊⋆🕷
A/N: It’s been years since I last wrote smut. Hopefully it wasn’t too shabby. On a side note, I got behind on my projects, so the next chapter of my fanfic will take a minute to write. For now, I hope this will satisfy you all!
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r3dkn0ts · 9 months
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I wanted to start something on my own ( the ask box is open pls send requests I am bored ) and got inspired reading some prompts, so here's the DBD Killers' reactions to getting horribly flirted with! Including some of my own pick-up lines because I'm bad at flirting
Badly Flirting with The DBD Killers: Part 1 Featuring Evan MacMillan, Philip Ojomo, and Max Thompson Jr.
Themes: GN!Reader being cringe, an attempt at comedy, slight fluff, and implied smut Warnings: Canon-typical violence
The Trapper / Evan MacMillan - You got cornered while injured with no other survivors nearby. Shit. Might as well give it a shot, right? - "Hey, are you a hundred dollar bill on the ground? Because I'd pick you up and spend every bit of you immediately." - Your voice was wavering as you said it, even though you tried to look as nonchalant as possible. - Evan's loud puffing behind his mask made the silence even more deafening. Was he gonna mori you now? Probably. - "Nice try", was the only thing he said in his rough accent before swiftly downing you and putting you on a sacrificial hook. - He definitely wasn't going to admit that your pick-up line made him chuckle a bit inside of his head, or that it made you look cute. - He couldn't stop thinking about that for a while.
The Wraith / Philip Ojomo - Trapped in a corner in the garage at Gas Heaven, your friend Ace had dared you to finally confront The Wraith about how you felt the next time you met him in a trial, even supplying you with a pick-up line. - You certainly weren't one to back down from a challenge! This was stupid. - "Are you a fine wine? Because I'd love to taste you." - Philip stared down at you blankly, darting his stark white eyes between the concrete floor and your face. - Had you actually flustered him? Body language was all you really had to go off of, and the fingers on his right hand were twitching. - Before you knew it, he rang his bell to cloak and darted out of the building, leaving you alone in the cold garage. - Did you offend him? What if he's already in a relationship? Ah fuck, you didn't think of that. - You didn't know it, but he watched you run out of the exit gate, cloaked. You didn't even see him for the rest of the trial. He was too embarrassed to face you any time soon. - Much to his surprise, that was the first time he had ever gotten physically aroused after being taken into the fog. He had business to take care of after you left.
The Hillbilly / Max Thompson Jr. - The three other survivors were sacrificed. You thought you were about to get chainsawed in half, but he stopped revving when you looked like you were about to say something to him. He was curious. - "Hey, if you were a vegetable, you'd be a cute-cumber!" - Your comment made him tilt his head to the side like a confused puppy and lower his chainsaw. Did you just compliment him? Why? - His second assumption was that someone had dared you to compliment him as a joke. He was always the butt of the joke, so why would anyone actually compliment him? He's hideous! - You noticed him getting caught up in his head, so you took a chance and gently placed a hand on the deformed flesh of his arm. He flinched a bit and looked back down at you. - "Are you okay? I really did mean that. I think you're cute." - Max simply stared at you in silence. He was really, really confused. Were you serious? You sounded serious. - He looked back down at the hand you still had on his arm. You went to take it back, scared he was angry, but he grabbed your wrist as you did and pulled your smaller hand into his. - For a moment, he just looked at your hand. Your skin felt so nice against his. He had never felt someone touch him unless it was meant to hurt him. He liked this new feeling. - For once, Max felt himself smiling. He knew he had to let you go, though. So he let you leave through the hatch after you promised him you'd visit him later.
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little-diable · 4 months
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The Ghost of Christmas Present - Dean Winchester
Part 2 of my Christmas series! A big thank you to @deathofpeaceofmind for writing the ghost part, I simply love working with you, Vi! Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated. Enjoy my loves. xxx
Summary: Dean had pushed the reader away many months ago, thinking she was better off without him, but when a strange dream pushes her back towards him, Dean can't help but fight for their love.
Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, oral (f), some angst, some mentioned heartbreak, small fake dating part
Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader (2.3k words)
headerby @deathofpeaceofmind
Series Masterlist
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Snow kept falling from the sky, white flakes that rested on Baby’s windshield. A sigh left Dean, eyes flickering between the falling flakes and his phone, thumb hovering over her contact. Fuck, what was he thinking? She wouldn’t pick up, especially not on Christmas Eve. 
It was his own fault, he had pushed her away, he had told her to go, he had picked his selfish ego over (y/n) and her warm, loving heart.
But now he felt awfully alone without her near. Dean had never been one for celebrating Christmas, had never been one for dwelling over old days he couldn’t relive, especially since she had always been right there to distract him. Until the day she no longer was. Dean had watched (y/n) leave with teary eyes, had watched her drive off into the night as Sam’s angry words kept ringing in his ears.
It was his own fault, he had been too scared, he had decided to run away from the love he felt for her, he had picked his loneliness over a life with (y/n) by his side.
For a few moments Dean kept staring at his bright phone screen, wondering if he could give it a try, wondering if she’d perhaps pick up the call, but before he could call her he locked his phone, throwing it onto the backseat. He reached for a bottle of beer, popping open the lid to drown some heavy gulps. Dean didn’t have the right to feel lonely, he had told Sam that he could celebrate it with his current fling, he had told the people caring about him that he didn’t want to be around anybody. But fuck, he hadn’t ever felt this lonely before.
Dean had to cuddle further into his jacket, hiding away from the biting cold as he redirected his gaze to the falling snow, it was his own goddamn fault for being stuck in this mess. He could still hear the angry words he had spoken to her, could still hear the begging words (y/n) had whispered, confessing her love to the man who had stared her down with a stoic gaze. 
Fuck, how he had wanted to wrap her in his arms, to repeat the loving three words he had been longing to speak for years, but deep down Dean knew that she deserved better, a man who’d always stay with her, a man to settle down with, not somebody like Dean, definitely not somebody like Dean. 
He finished his beer with another sigh, eyes fluttering close as he sank further into the seat, perhaps he could simply sleep this night away, perhaps he could forget about her for at least a few hours. And with one last murmur of (y/n)’s name, Dean gave into sleep’s call of his name. 
……
As Dean fell asleep, the world around him shifted. The familiar interior of Baby transformed into a surreal dreamscape. The falling snow outside the windows seemed to dance with an ethereal glow, casting shadows that writhed like ghostly figures in the night.
Suddenly, a hearty laugh echoed through the car. Dean's eyes shot open, a figure, draped in a dark cloak, occupied the passenger seat. The Ghost of Christmas Present, a manifestation that bore both the weight of wisdom and the ephemeral nature of time.
Dean squinted at the figure, his sleepy mind struggling to comprehend what was happening. The ghost turned to him, eyes bright and warm. "Dean Winchester," it spoke, its voice echoing with a resonance that seemed to reach into the depths of Dean's soul.
"What the hell is this?" Dean mumbled, still unsure if he was trapped in some cosmic dream or if the beer had taken a more mystical turn.
The ghost's features shifted, its face taking on a familiar visage — a mix of (y/n)'s warmth and the sternness of his own regrets. "You've let love slip through your fingers, Dean. You pushed it away, denied it, and now you find yourself drowning in the cold solitude you created."
Dean's heart tightened, the weight of his actions settling in his chest like an anchor. "What do you want from me?" he demanded, the lines between defiance and desperation blurring.
The Ghost of Christmas Present gestured to the snowy expanse outside the Impala. Scenes unfolded like phantom memories — (y/n) leaving, the echoes of her love, and the void that now consumed him. "This is the path you've chosen. Loneliness is your companion, and regret your constant shadow."
As the ghost spoke, the snowflakes seemed to whisper tales of missed chances and unspoken confessions. Dean's eyes, haunted by the memories of his own words, betrayed a vulnerability he tried hard to hide.
"Can't change the past," Dean muttered.
The ghost's eyes bore into him with a knowing intensity. "But you can shape the future, Dean Winchester. The present is a gift."
With those words, the dreamlike scene dissolved, and Dean found himself once again in the familiar warmth of Baby. The ghost was gone, leaving him alone with his thoughts and a heavy heart.
As the snow continued to fall outside, Dean stared into the night, contemplating the choices that led him to this point.
……
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Her voice rang in his ears, dripping with annoyance and anger. Dean had to take another step closer, foot stopping her door from falling shut. For a few seconds neither of them spoke, wordlessly conversing with their eyes holding a biting contact, shooting shudders down Dean’s spine.
“Can I come in? Just for a few moments.” He whispered his words, preparing himself for another angry stream of words to leave (y/n). But all she did was stare at him, pondering over her choices before she reached out, tugging him into her home with her hand resting carefully in his bigger one.
“You’ll follow my lead, and if you don’t fuck this up we can speak later.” (Y/n) didn’t give Dean a chance to reply, eyes furrowed in confusion as he was pulled into her living room, taking in unfamiliar faces that looked at him with wide eyes. He barely paid the words (y/n) spoke any attention, explaining to her family that her boyfriend was finally here even after telling her that he was away on a business trip, all he could focus on was the feeling of her warm hand pressed against his. How he had longed for this for the past months, how he had imagined her standing this close, but now the reality felt even better, more loving, even though she was probably full of hatred directed at Dean. 
“Hello, it’s nice to meet you all, sorry for showing up this late.” With a smile thrown his way, Dean was pulled into a hug by (y/n)’s mother, forcing him to let go of (y/n). His eyes met (y/n)’s once again, even though she wore a smile that clearly managed to fool her family, her eyes told a different story, leaving Dean to grow tense once again. He had dug his grave, and now it was on him to crawl out of it once again. 
“Dean, it’s so nice to finally meet you! (Y/n) has told us so much about you, and about all the trips you two took together.” A soft chuckle left Dean as he took the bottle of beer (y/n)’s father reached out for him to take, sharing a smile with the man who was still wearing his jacket, and his snow covered boots, unsure how these next few hours would play out. 
……
“I hate you, so fucking much.” Her words were swallowed by the moan leaving her, head falling back against the kitchen cabinet. (Y/n) was sitting on her counter, thighs spread with Dean buried between them, eating her out as if it was his first time ever tasting a woman. With his arms slung around her thighs, Dean kept her pressed against his face, glistening eyes watching her fall apart. “Fuck, I almost forgot how good you are at this.” 
"You know, I don't think you hate me that much, otherwise you wouldn't have lied to your family." His chuckles vibrated against her skin, forcing yet another moan out of (y/n). She was close, close to letting go with his name rolling off her tongue, no matter how much she’d try to keep the sound bottled in. Dean Winchester had hurt her, more than anybody had hurt her before that, and yet she couldn’t help but ache for him and for his touch, and yet she couldn't help but cling to the memory of her life with Dean and Sam.
“C’mon let go for me, sweetheart, I want you to cum on my tongue first before I fuck you.” With one hand tugging on his roots and the other pressed back against the cabinet she was resting against, (y/n) came. She choked on Dean’s name, allowing her eyes to flutter close as the overly intense sensation thumped through her.
Dean didn’t give her much time to calm down, pulled down from the counter and flipped around. With her front pressed down on the counter she had been sitting on, (y/n) waited for Dean to free his cock, fumbling with his clothes before he momentarily froze. He wanted to speak out, wanted to groan about not having anything on him, but the breathless “I’m still on the pill” she moaned managed to urge him on.
He pushed into her from behind, carefully, needing to adjust just like she did. For a few seconds neither of them moved, breathing through the almost unfamiliar sensation before he pulled out, only to push back in. Dean fucked her against the counter, fingertips digging into her waist, leaving his marks on her.
Their eyes met in her kitchen window, allowing one another to study their features due to the darkness lingering outside and her bright kitchen light illuminating their features. No words left the two, nothing but moans, groans, and cries, sounds they had been longing to hear ever since they’d parted ways.
“Shit, you’re still so fucking tight, I’ll never get used to this.” Dean’s words left her chuckling, clenching around his cock as the sound clawed through her. It took her a few seconds to reply, struggling to speak as her bundle of nerves started pulsing once again, not expecting Dean to sling his arm around her, circling it.
“Didn’t fuck anybody else since I’ve left.” The words weren’t meant as a confession, as a small glimpse into the life she had lived ever since Dean had pushed her away, and yet Dean couldn’t stop his proud smirk from tugging on his lips. She wanted to call him out on his smirk, wanted to remind him to not let her words go to his head, but she couldn’t, ripped away by her arising second high.
Dean could tell that she was close once again, eyes watching his cock disappearing inside of her with every thrust. He pushed her over the edge within seconds, listening to her sweet sounds as he fucked her through her high, letting go of her before he could follow her down the edge. With a moan leaving Dean, he painted her back white, watching his cum stain her skin. 
Both didn’t speak as he reached for a kitchen towel to clean her, still heavily breathing as they redressed. He watched her intently, green eyes following her every move, wondering if she’d lure him into a conversation or if she’d wordlessly throw him out. (Y/n) reached for two cups as she poured both a cup of coffee, leading Dean back into the living room. 
“You wanted to speak to me, so speak.” The sound of Dean clearing his throat echoed through her home, slowly sinking down on the couch next to (y/n). His mind was racing, still torn between the orgasm he had just chased, and the love he still felt for her. 
“I know there’s nothing I can say to take away the pain I pushed through you. I know I don’t deserve your trust or another chance, I know I fucked up.” A hum left (y/n), wordlessly agreeing with the words rolling off his tongue. “But you know better than anybody else that I’m selfish, egoistical. I thought I was helping you with pushing you away, I really did. But maybe I was wrong. I can’t do this without you, (y/n), I just can’t.”
“So, let me get this right. You pushed me away because you were caught up in some self-pity? You broke my heart because you thought you were helping me, saving me? You’re even more dense than I thought Dean Winchester. I always want you, only you. I took it all, the sleepless nights, the hunts, because for me there is only you.”
Dean cupped her cheek before (y/n) could pull away, pressing a soft kiss against her lips with a sigh leaving him. He couldn't let her go, not now, not ever, perhaps he’ll eventually pay the price, but the dream he had been caught in had proven to Dean that she was the one, the one he couldn’t part from.
“It’ll take me a while to forgive you, Dean. But I’m willing to give you another chance, for the sake of Christmas.”
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determinedowl23 · 3 months
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My own Voices designs!! I wanted each of them to have their own distinct color and article of clothing, which was inspired by @bubblybloob’s designs for them. Individual notes below the cut:
Broken: I wanted his outfit to look haggered and worn. At first I was thinking to have his outfit be like a medieval prisoner’s, but I also added elements of friar robes to go along with Tower’s offer of making us a priest for her. I also made his beak chipped and made it that he doesn’t have the lower set of feathers on his wings (Idk what they’re called- primaries and secondaries I think?)
Cheated: I was stuck on Cheated for so long lol I had no idea what I wanted to do for him. I asked a friend for some medieval outfit ideas and eventually he came up with an executioner and I loved it. He is bitter about his death to Razor. He wants to find a way to kill her himself and will do anything to make sure, even consistently sacrificing LQ in order to get more Voices and become more powerful. And there’s the obvious blade theme going on. I’m pretty sure I had a third reason for it that I forgot too 💀 Now that I’m thinking about it, the Razor route actually kinda mirrors the Witch route, but the roles are swapped…
Cold: I wanted him to wear something an assassin would wear, so I just gave him a cloak lol. I thought that would be a little boring, so I made the front of it look like a scarf. Because…….. he’s Cold.
Contrarian: The obvious thing to do was make him a jester, so I did. The top half of his collar and the color are inspired by Sophist because the Party Crashers brainrot never leaves (I’m watching the Vernias Subathon as I’m writing this post) and if you’ve seen even one of his videos- especially a Mario Party one, you’ll know that he and Contrarian have basically the same personality.
Hero: He’s the main guy, and obviously a hero, so I gave him a knight helmet and cape. The color of the helmet feather changes based on what your Chapter II is (ex. his feather will be magenta during Damsel to match Smitten, and it will stay magenta during Burned Grey. Honestly I may change this lmao) and it’s black in the endgame sequence. He also shifts his cape so that the clasp is in the center during the endgame.
Hunted: Hunted has a torn and tattered vest that’s green to help with camouflage. He and Paranoid have the largest eyes, both because they are always on the lookout for a threat, but it’s more obvious for him and his prey nature. He’s the best flier of all the voices- in fact, he honestly might be the only one who can fly.
Opportunist: Sleazy loser car salesman. He’s the most put together (physically) of them all, and uses this clean look to make himself look “professional” so he can weasel his way out of a sticky situation. I might change his yellow to something less bright, I’m not sure if I like it. I just wanted to make sure his color was distinct enough from Hero’s and Skeptic’s.
Paranoid: His hat and shoulder cape are that of a plague doctor’s, since he single-handedly keeps you alive during Nightmare, and even when Hero takes over the Heart Lungs Liver Nerves™ it’s still Paranoid who’s calling the shots that he thinks are the best. He and Hunted have the best self-preservation skills and best survival instincts.
Skeptic: Honestly Skeptic’s personality was hard for me to identify when I first met him, but I view him as someone who’s skepticism comes from a place of curiosity and an itch to learn as much as he can before coming to a definite conclusion. So I gave him a stereotypical detective cape
Smitten: He’s a bard serenading his beloved Princess! His vibrant magenta outfit represents his love for the darling Damsel <3 His outfit was pretty straightforward lmao. Also, his and Opportunist’s chest feathers are meant to resemble an ascot.
Stubborn: Originally I wanted to make him look like a gladiator, but I didn’t want to give him armor so that Hero would feel more distinct from the others. Plus, he just wants an all out brawl where you and your opponent are even, and if he doesn’t believe in traps, I don’t think he’d believe in armor. Because of that, he doesn’t care too much about clothing. A simple sash will do- a red one so that the bloodstains will blend in. He has a scar over his chest and his eye he gained from the fight with the Princess in Chapter I.
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thatonetwig · 29 days
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Candy Grapes Headcanons! (Chujin x Starlo x Dalv x El Baliador)
Chujin:
• His tail always starts wagging out of happiness whenever he sees any of his boyfriends.
• Chujin often gives his partners small robots or other little inventions as gifts (they usually end up exploding or malfunctioning, but they appreciate the gesture anyway).
• ALWAYS chooses to watch Ben 10 on movie nights...part of the reason why they rarely let him choose.
• He loves headpats and belly rubs, and it doesn't help that Chujin is the fluffiest out of the four of them.
• He has insomnia, but he always sleeps peacefully if he's cuddling with his partners in bed.
Dalv:
• He only feels comfortable sharing excerpts from his books and samples of his songs with his partners (they love them everytime).
• Dalv loves being in the middle because he gets to be surrounded by fluffiness, hugging him tightly from all sides.
• He made a music box with the help of Kanako and Axis to help all of them whenever they struggle to sleep (Dalv composed the song and Kanako and Axis made the music box itself).
• He likes to surprise his boyfriends with a kiss on the cheek whenever he sees them, and they're facing away from him.
• The concerned one. He sometimes gets worried for them even over small things, and it's up to them to calm him down.
Starlo:
• Gives his partners gun training lessons on weekends for their safety (Bailador doesn't like to use them, and Dalv and Chujin can't even hold one properly).
• He thinks of himself as the charismatic one in the relationship, but his boyfriends prove him wrong every time by showering him in compliments and just watching him melt into a puddle of embarrassment.
• Gave his partners sheriff's badges as tokens of his love for them (Bailador wears it openly on his costume while Dalv wears it under his cloak and Chujin under his kimono).
• Starlo sometimes likes to serenade his partners whenever they are bored or in bed, making the mood all the more romantic.
• Unironically a very good chef. He loves to cook for his boyfriends, especially corn-based meals.
El Bailador:
• Loves to sneak up on his boyfriends from behind and lift them up into a tight hug.
• Knows that his partners aren't as passionate about dancing as he is, so he instead teaches them more calming and elegant dances like waltzes.
• Huge motivator. Dalv is struggling to come up with the next part of his song? Bailador performs a dance tailored to the genre of music it is to try and give him ideas. Chujin is frustrated with what he's working on? Bailador is there to comfort him and tell him to take a break.
• Whenever they're in bed, he sometimes likes to scoop up all of his partners into one big group hug with lots of kisses.
• He's the alarm clock for his partners. In the morning, they're always woken up by Bailador dancing around excitedly and encouraging them to get up for the day.
Bonus! Axis and Kanako:
• Having known Dalv, Starlo, and Bailador prior to them getting together, Kanako was very happy to hear that she was getting them as her three new stepdads.
• Axis, on the other hand, was...very confused. ("WHAT? SO, YOU’RE MY CREATOR, BUT HE IS TOO? HE IS? HE IS AS WELL- I DON'T GET IT.")
• Dalv gives them music lessons whenever they come over (Kanako plays the flute and Axis plays an Otamatone).
• Chujin used to let Starlo train Kanako how to shoot guns...and revoked those lessons the same day when she almost shot him and Axis by accident.
• Axis pulls the, "YOU AREN’T MY CREATOR", card whenever he doesn't want to listen to any of Chujin's partners.
• In addition to dance lessons, Bailador also teaches Spanish to Kanako and Axis when he can. In return, they teach him some Japanese (the first word Axis taught him was, "Kuso").
• Kanako gave each of Chujin's partners a string with a gold bell attached to it to welcome them into the family, and Axis gave them nametags with their names engraved on them from the Steamworks (he didn't know what else to gift them and those were the best he could think of).
And that's it for now! I hope you all enjoyed reading this very long list of headcanons!
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ficbrish · 2 months
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WIP Wednesday
[07Feb2024]
This is from a one shot that's part of my Kinktober collection
"The Black Masquerade"
Durge Vistri, 3 years post-canon, Baldur's Gate
“Back in Baldur’s Gate,” Astarion sighed, “I thought we were rid of this place for good.”
They’d finally settled into their room at the Helm and Cloak, specifically the Cloak, because as Astarion put it, “The Helm? Are we peasants, dear?” He pouted on the bed as Vistri fussed with the hideous art on the walls.
“Do you think someone actually chose to make it this way, or was this a mistake?”
“Darling?”
“Hmm?”
“You’re not paying attention to me.”
Vistri couldn’t help but laugh affectionately at the way he frowned. That expression of his was so dear to her heart. It told her she belonged somewhere, that he needed her, in a way lust in his eyes could never manage.
She rung her hands, admitting, “I’m just so nervous!” and jumped on the bed, landing on him awkwardly.
“Ooof!” Astarion winced.
“Sorry,” she chuckled.
He rolled over, tossing Vistri under him. Gazing from above, he stroked her forehead gently with a clumsy palm, and smirked, “You’re not sorry.”
“I wasn’t trying to hurt you,” she giggled, “I wanted to comfort you.”
“No need to fret, love,” his pretty words and expressions were as playful as they were genuine, “I quite like the way you leave me breathless.”
She nuzzled his nose, beckoning for a kiss, “Only fair for you to return the favor.”
It was like a spell transporting them through time. Their lips locked and they were back in Baldur’s Gate, just three years ago. Encircled by cults and tadpoles, their futures so uncertain... Now, here they were again, fighting to secure a new future. Honestly, they weren’t sure which task would prove harder: Defeating a Netherbrain and its cult or securing political alliances for their city. More than a city, it was practically its own nation. A growing, everlasting one at that. They had to prove to all the others that they fit in and made useful allies.
“Shit—Can we do it again?” Vistri asked as his lips left hers, “I wasn’t here.”
Astarion lifted a brow, “What’s on your mind, petal?”
“Here we are, preparing to be first-class whores again. It’s all rather round-about, isn’t it?”
He sighed and crashed backwards onto the pillows, “Is that really anything different from what we do in the ci—?”
“Yes, because it is not our city out there. It’s theirs.”
He pulled her back to settle into his chest, “But it is for our city.”
“I feel cursed,” she whined.
Astarion laughed heartily, “My love, we volunteered!”
“I know.”
“We don’t trust anyone else to do it right. It had to be us.”
“I know.”
“And besides, you practically begged—”
“Blasphemy! I did not beg!”
“You threatened to cast Daylight on poor, bumbling Petras. Poor dear nearly shat himself. It was an abuse of power!”
“What do you know about abuse of power?” she sneered.
“Remember, dear. Yours truly used to be a magistrate.”
“Mmmm… Now I think of it, vampire spawn was an improvement.”
“Only slightly less predatory than the government.”
“I think you forget, we’re the government now too, darling.”
“Gods! But you’re right. How did we ever manage such a thing?”
Vistri made a show of thinking deeply, “Hmmm, I think it was… Oh, yes! Somewhere along the lines of founding our own city. It’s all very boring and complicated. Don’t worry your pretty head.”
Astarion buttoned her words with a thumb to her lip. The playful glint in her eye suddenly became saturated with a raw look of pleading. A slow stroke across her mouth to open it for his, and out came a moan that shifted the moment into something serious.
“Astarion…”
They needed to get dressed for the evening, so their clothes were already coming off anyway. What difference did it make if he was the one to peel her shoulders out of her sleeves, slip those tired stockings off her thighs? Would it really make them late if his trembling lips followed his shivering fingers, stripping her layer by layer?
Their first stop on the torture circuit, excuse me, charm circuit, was nothing less than a private masked ball—Some patriar family in the Upper City, the first on their long list of private patriar functions. Gods, it was going to be dull!
“Eomane,” Vistri practiced saying in the ride over, “Eomane. Do you know them?”
The carriage shifted over a lump and bounced, tousling them.
“What?”
She sighed, “Now you’re the one not paying attention.”
“Sorry, it’s just these streets…” Each tavern they passed was an old haunt. All those alleys, graveyards.
Vistri squeezed his hand, “We can leave anytime you want. And I don’t just mean tonight’s affair. We can leave this whole blasted city behind us, and we don’t even have to return to ours. I know! Why don’t we run away together?”
Astarion smiled, “Sure. I mean, we’ve done the whole responsible part for—What? Three years now? Which is more than anyone expected out of either of us.”
“Way more!”
“Let’s do it then. Let’s run away.”
They smiled at each other and punctuated their little fantasy with a peck. An exchange like this was routine, a game they played whenever one of them wanted to quit.
Vistri made a show of slapping her head, “But wait!”
“What is it?”
“Our things!”
“Oh, right! All our stuff is back home!”
“My cloaks!”
“My boots!”
They shook their heads together theatrically.
“Well, now we have to go back home.”
“And in order to do that,” Astarion sighed, “We’ve got to bring back the kind of news that will allow us to show our faces.”
“Guess we don’t really have a choice then, if we want all our stuff.”
“You know. This might be why they say consumerism is sin.”
They broke into a type of laughter that would be sickening for any outsiders to behold. It was beneficial their carriage had a roof and curtains. Only the driver had to suffer.
Astarion groaned as it tapered off, “Gods, I hate this fucking city.”
“I know, my dear. So do I.”
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delta-orionis · 1 month
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Tuesday Again No Problem 2/13/24
My friend @girlfriendsofthegalaxy has a weekly post series summing up things she listened to/watched/made/etc that week, and I'd like to give it a try myself. I tried to do something similar with my Synthwave Sunday posts, but those ended up being unsustainable for me in the long run. I think something in the middle of the week might be a bit easier for me to maintain, but I'm not going to hold myself to a strict standard or anything.
Without further ado:
listening
Mostly the Rain World soundtrack. It’s good to put on when I’m focusing on something else.
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That said, I also listened to Tangerine Dream’s album Hyperborea in its entirely the other day, and I ended up liking it quite a bit. I might have to look into more of their stuff. It’s full of good retro synths.
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reading
I finally started reading Ancillary Justice by Ann Leckie earlier this week, after the poor book had been sitting on my bookshelf, unread, for nearly two years. Good friends of mine have been telling me I’d enjoy it that entire time, but I just never got around to starting it until now. I’m not very far into the book, but I like what I’ve read so far.
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I made a post a few days ago about why I think I have trouble reading books these days. Because of the way my brain works, I have a really hard time keeping characters from a piece of media straight in my head if it’s not a visual medium. I already know this book is going to throw a lot of characters at me, so I’ve been doing my best to write down a list of characters and their basic attributes as I read. I’m hoping it will make this book easier for me to parse, because I really do want to give it an honest shot.
I’ve been mostly reading during my downtime at work, which is few and far between these days, so I expect this book will take a long time for me to finish. Time will tell, I suppose.
watching
Fallow week. Unless Rain World memes and Canopener Bridge videos count.
youtube
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playing
Still playing Rain World. I’m very close to beating Artificer’s campaign, but at this point I’m kind of just milling around getting passage tokens and finding pearls for Five Pebbles to read. I’m not going to be a completionist about it, I mostly just want to see how many pearls I can find before I start to get bored.
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(I’ve brought him seven so far.)
making
I’m continuing to work on my Five Pebbles amigurumi.
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I still need to finish and attach his arms, and then make his cloak. But he should be finished soon! Then I’ll start working on Looks to the Moon.
He ended up being much bigger than any amigurumi I’ve made before, but I’m fine with that. It’s an interesting challenge.
I’m also going to count my recent post about my Rain World iterator headcanons in the “making” section too, because fuck it, media analysis is a hobby too.
Rain World in particular has been a pretty good chew toy for my brain recently. The lore is kind of vague and confusing, but there’s enough there for you to begin to piece together the bigger picture. I recall reading in a devlog, “Some mysteries in Rain World aren’t meant to be solved”, but that doesn’t mean people aren’t going to try! And try I will, even if it does make me feel like that one scene from It’s Always Sunny sometimes.
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thealligatornoah · 1 year
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Falling in love (Cater edition)
At last, I'm back writing! Sorry, I had been facing mental health issues, and it mixed with school work and the fact that I actually didn't know what to do with Cater, plus another project I have in my mind. But do not worry, 'cause today I litsened to phony, which inspired me! That's my favourite cover, btw. Suck it up helped too.
(Holy crap "Ashite aishite" started playing while writing this, 400 likes and I'll write a yandere Cater parody lmao)
Well, let's get it started!
Warnings: is a bit angsty, sorry, I didn't mean to :'D
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When it doesn't catch Cater's interest, he won't be able to focus in it, like studying. But magicam does capture his interest, and his many followers really love his bubbly easygoing personality, they really look up to him. He just has to be positive, even in situations that drain his heart in tears and sweat.
He doesn't like sweets? Just eat them all! You're scared of loosing your friends? Just don't form any strong bonds, easy-peasy! You're feeling down? Just smile to the camera! Isn't it great? This is his life!
The ceremony of a new school year is taking place at NRC. He smiles to his camera to show off how handsome and ominous he looks in his cloak, "#thesameceremonyaslastyears", he writes underneath the picture with bored eyes. But, suddenly, certain magicless human breaks out the coffin at everyone's surprise yet amazeness.
Cater feels as if his heart could get out his chest, and a tiny shade of pink makes its appearance shily on his cheeks. "That guy is so cute, I wanna have a photo of him" he thought immediately.
A few days later, that same boy shows up at Cater's dorm as one of his clones is painting the roses for the upcoming unbirthday party. His eyes lit up, and his mind starts thinking many things at once. He focuses little by little in the ones that he believes as priorities, like Ace having one of Riddle's collars on his neck.
Minutes later, everyone is helping him paint the roses. Not only that, he surprised (Y/N) with his unique magic, yeah, He learned his name! Cater doesn't really understand why, but that plus the adorable smile that boy is displaying right now just melts him.
After finishing, he approaches the magicless human.
-Hey, (Y/N)! -he giggles, blinking an eye- Did ya have fun?
-Oh, hi, Cater -he sends back a smile-. Yeah, Ace didn't stop complaining, but I really enjoyed painting the roses with all of you! -he cheerfully answers.
The young user of magicam gulps as he feels the same exact emotions as the ones at the ceremony slowly start hitting him again, takes out him phone with shaky hands, and coughs softly.
-Do ya want to take a selfie with me? -he asks.
(Y/N) is a bit baffled at first, "He looks like the guy that would make me mad by taking a picture without my permission" he thinks as nodding unconstiously. Did that little surprise catch him down guard?
Cater smiles widely at the affirmative answer.
He will treasure that handsome face on that photo all his life.
But not everything is pink and happy all the time. Like in the next day, when Riddle actually overblots and, thus, puts his life in real danger. Cater's friendships didn't last more than two years, so seeing one of his longer lasting friends in this state actually crushes his soul. But he can't show he is worried, he just doesn't have the permission to be sad.
So as soon as he has the opportunity to hide in the second shot of the unbirthday party, he goes to a spot to have some alone time just to have a breakdown. Tears fall down to the ground when he quietly sobs, he sits down there with a helpless look. "Why is so hard to bottle up the emotions?" He wonders.
He heards footsteps approximating him, so he swipes off all the tears.
-Cater?
He freaks out even more when he sees that it is (Y/N) who is seeing him like this.
-Are you OK? Do you need help? -he asks worridly.
Cater shakes his head, he doesn't speak due to not wanting his... crush? Hearing his voice other than his happy, go-lucky tone. (Y/N) frowns.
-Or company?
This time, he doesn't answer; two of his feelings collide and he just doesn't know what he should answer, his mind is just too blurry right now.
-Get better, Cater senpai... -(Y/N) says goodbye, taking his silence as a negative.
-Wait. -Cater finally demands before it's too late.
(Y/N) looks at him wide eyed, the poor third year is clearly asking for a hugh with open arms. Even the magicless boy is surprised with the fact that he accepted.
He buries his face in Cater's neck as he kneels down so he can reach hsi embrace. The once sobbing mess wraps (Y/N) with his arms.
-Can I trust you? -he quietly murmurs in his ear.
-Of course you can. -(Y/N) answers tenderly as he pats Cater's back.
On that day, Cater learned that he could speak with his crush; in the sense that he feels safe to tell him almost anything he is feeling, yeah, I'm excluding the romantic feelings.
From that day on, Cater spends all the time he can with (Y/N). They speak about anything and everything, if anyone ever makes a contest between them to see who knows each other better, it'd be a tie.
Then, they start to be more touchy with each other. Hugs, laying down on each other, even ocassiomal kisses on the cheeks. It is normal that the other students think that they're a couple, but they always get really flustered out when it happens. Until one damn time...
-You're such a cute couple! -one of the students mistake them.
-I know! -(Y/N) laughs- It's a joke, we're just close friends.
That is the night that one of Cater's pillows has to suffer one of his most long, high-pitched little screams from him, his face in a shade that completely hides the diamond on his cheek and his heart almost exploding. That's it, he has to confess, unless he is going to die much younger he thought he would.
One morning, Cater checks his magicam witing for (Y/N) on the same exact spot he discovered him crying his eyes out. He still can't believe that he feels comfortable showing more faces rather than "happy" to him, but that is maybe the reason he is waiting there in the first place.
-Cater! -(Y/N) waves at him with that cute smile of his.
-Oh god, is Huggy-chi!
The other boy loudly laughs.
-What's with that nickname?
-Shaddup and hug me! -demands Cater, opening his arms.
Almost like a puppy, (Y/N) jumps to his embrace. They both stay quietly like that for a few seconds, Cater is already feeling his stomach flipping upside down, his body shaking at the sensation of the cold sweat on his hands.
-Are you alright? - (Y/N) notices.
Cater takes a deep breath.
-Yes and no. -he answers.
-You know you can tell me anything. -he says patting his back.
-Yeah, but I dunno if you'll like this.
-What do you mean?
-(Y/N), I really like you.
A small scream leaves the magicless human's mouth, and strengthes his grip.
-Huh? What does this mean?
-Oh my god, Cater. Do you mean "like" in the sense of "love"? Please, tell me yes, please.
Cater giggles and lifts up (Y/N)'s chin so he can look at him in the eyes, and careses his underlip with his thumb.
-You're silly, ya' know?
Then, as if they were magnets, their lips attract each other's until they click togheter. Cater's hands leave the embrace to get positioned to (Y/N)'s face, he will treasure this moment even more than the first selfie of the two of them, so has has to make sure to make it as romantic and memorable he can.
When it doesn't catch Cater's interest, he won't be able to focus in it, like studying. But this boy succeded to catch his attention, and he is more than happy to demonstrate him that.
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triscribeaucollection · 2 months
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@foxstronaut: #YEAH SO I DID IN FACT WANT TO SEE IT#this is so good……this au just keeps getting better……….tysm for the link to this post!!#the wider context of the time travel……the fallout of bens betrayal…..#positively eating this up#also if i can ask- what is the ‘shereshoy’ mentioned in ur tag? :0
Shereshoy is the capstone of my Vod'e An Star Wars series, which is ALL about time travel, but I keep copy-pasting the intro scene into different AUs because it is. Definitely one of my favorite bits of writing to date.
Here's the series summary:
Have you ever seen a time traveler dropped into the middle of someone else's butterfly effect? How about several dozen someones? AKA I nabbed all my fave clone troopers and sprinkled them into a much happier galaxy, with a touch of violence on top. As a treat.
Aaand just for laughs, here's the intro scene in question:
---
The Force screamed in the middle of the night, and Ahsoka lurched awake with one overriding thought: not again.
Both lightsabers immediately flew to her hands as she rolled out of bed - boots and outer robes left behind in her sprint for the door. For the first time since constructing her own hab at Luke’s school, Ahsoka regretted putting herself on a neighboring ridge instead of down in the valley among the students.
Even as she ran, the Force flickered with another youngling’s death.
Beams of red light in the darkness, matched to knots of Dark power, drew her forward at even greater speed. Bounding off rocks and trees, the togruta remained nearly silent with every leap; she instinctively shielded herself with the Force to mask her approach, until the moment she burst out over the heads of three Sith acolytes, and let her own power flare.
Their helmeted heads snapped upwards. In the span of two heartbeats, her white sabers slashed, and those same heads fell to the ground, their bodies following after a brief pause.
Ahsoka landed in a battle-ready crouch, positioned defensively over a boy collapsed on the ground. When no further Sith revealed themselves, she deactivated and tucked away one lightsaber, freed hand reaching for the teenager at her feet. “Jacen?”
“I’m okay,” he rasped, heart pounding hard enough her lekku could feel the vibrations. “What- what’s happening?”
“Another Purge,” Ahsoka said, fighting hard to keep her voice level. “Can you feel Ezra?” After a moment’s pause, his face scrunched with desperate concentration, Jacen nodded. “Then let’s go. I’ll watch your back.”
The boy staggered upright, and led her around to the far side of the school buildings: student sleeping huts, a kitchen and meal hall, storage and laundry and library. Most of them bore scorch marks and other damage, while further up the valley, the actual temple where Luke handled meditation and combat training burned.
Storm clouds rumbled overhead, an echo of the fury roaring in Ahsoka’s mind. Twice, cracks of lightning revealed fallen bodies as she and Jacen ran past.
Another set of Sith attempted an ambush, only to falter when they registered her white lightsabers. Ahsoka didn’t hesitate to leap forward and deal with them swiftly, before any attention could be turned to the padawan beside her. Jacen, thankfully, didn’t attempt to join her, nor did he comment afterward - but his Force-presence shivered and pulled in even tighter on itself.
The next enemies they came across were a squad of stormtroopers, concentrating fire on a solitary figure, who deflected incoming plasma bolts and shot back his own with the same weapon. Ahsoka could sense two more younglings hidden behind Ezra’s billowed cloak, and increased her speed.
One trooper spotted her mid-charge. He and his neighbor turned to shoot at the new target, but their bolts went wild, too far off the mark to even require deflection. Ridiculous, Ahsoka could hear in her mind, as she spun and slashed, No brother would have gotten off Kamino with aim like that; do they even bother training these shinies, or just hand ‘em armor and a blaster and a new set of orders?
Faster than droids, but not nearly as fast or coordinated as clones, which meant Ahsoka carved through the stormtroopers within moments. As the last blaster fell in pieces to the ground, she saw Jacen dash past to crash against his favorite teacher with a desperate hug. Ezra wrapped an arm around the boy’s shoulders, the other still holding his lightsaber. “Ahsoka?”
“Get to my ship,” she ordered, as another peal of thunder rang above their heads, and the first few raindrops began to fall. “Don’t wait for anyone else, just take off and get to safety.”
Expression grim, Ezra nodded, and turned to drop into a crouch. He helped Alora get to her feet, the girl holding Grogu against her chest. “Pypey?”
The teenager shook her head, headscarf gone, face covered in tears. Ezra didn’t waste any more time before hustling her and Jacen off, towards the hidden landing pad where they kept hyper-capable craft. Ahsoka barely waited before hurrying onward again.
She passed more bodies; some students, some stormtroopers, the occasional Sith in black and red armor. The rain began coming down harder, turning the ground slick with mud, dragging visibility down to mere feet and severely impacting how much Ahsoka could sense with her hollow montrals.
But the Force didn’t falter. Every leap took her from one mostly-stable spot to another, following further death knells and surges of power, all the way up to the front steps of the old Jedi temple set into the mountainside. All the way to Luke.
Despite his much smaller stature, he moved like Anakin, and she could feel the intense emotions racing through him. One trooper after another fell, Luke refusing to let any of them put so much as a single foot on the steps into his school, his Academy. More bodies sprawled across the stones behind him; only one still flickered faintly with life.
Ahsoka took over the fight.
She landed ahead and just to one side of Luke, better positioned to defend the one student still gasping for breath. “Go! Take her and go!” Her fellow Jedi hesitated, clearly torn between multiple directions. “She’s dying, Luke, take Jaina and go, NOW!”
His Force-presence flared, then settled, decision made. Ahsoka felt the man lunge, scoop up his wounded student, and bolt into the Temple. She knew he’d follow a secret route out to the far side of the mountain, where an overhang sheltered his old X-Wing. With any luck, Artoo would be waiting, engines already fired up and ready to take off.
Even without luck, Ahsoka would buy them enough time to escape. Raindrops sizzled off her lightsabers as she swept them through the air, evaporating into steam that trailed after her every movement.
And Ahsoka moved.
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jittyjames · 29 days
Text
WIP WEDNESDAY
aka the first day of whump: the musical sneak peek 🤭 enjoyyyy
"I knew I would find you here."
Her voice came gentle like a breeze, as light as bells. She might have known where to find him, but he had known in turn it wouldn't be long before she showed up. As each hour of seclusion and silent mourning passed, he knew she would venture out to find him. And here she was.
Neither of them could be alone for long.
He didn't speak as he pried his eyes away from the place where Judas breathed his last. She was standing a few steps away, the wind rustling through her hair, whipping it gently across her cheek, over her shoulders. She stood there watching him with her reddened, teardrop plagued eyes, standing back, almost as if she were afraid of him, of the way grief hollowed him into something unrecognizable.
A shell is what he was. An empty shell.
She clutched a familiar garment close to her chest, hugging it to her as if she loathed the day she finally had to let it go, as if it was the only thing keeping her grounded. Her fingers grasped the fabric so tightly, it looked painful.
It couldn’t be as painful as the pain that shot through his chest at the sight of it, though.
"I buried him with his hamsa," Mary spoke gently. He couldn't pry his eyes off the blue cloak in her pale hands. They still bore marks of their own. Bruises, scratches, and broken nails were a testament to how hard she fought, marring over her delicate skin. So many times she had tried to run to him, to attempt to rescue him. It had sent a lurching pain through his chest every time the Romans shoved her to the ground, barking abuse and leering at her. He had been scared then, he realized. He had wondered if they would hurt her, if they would just because she was making it so obvious who they were to each other. He wasn't sure if they ever did. He could never be sure of what happened after he died. It's not like anyone would tell him. None of them wanted to discuss it. They wanted to live in a fantasy world, where everything was right. Now, he briefly mused that these hands could be marked from the burial of their lover. Mary would have clawed at the dirt, fingers snagging on stray sharp stones and the rain-caked mud. She would have cried alone, so soon after burying Jesus. He hadn't actually asked if she had been the one to prepare him for his own, but when he had awoken, he could smell her myrrh on his skin. It had been telling enough. It gave him his confirmation. They didn't have to talk about it. "He had taken this off, though. I found it along the way. Afterward. I've kept it, but... I think you need it more. You deserve it more."
Jesus deserved nothing. If it wasn't for him, Judas would have been the one to claim it. He would still be clothed in it, clutching it to himself as he grimaced against the cold. He always chilled. His body would forever be cold now, never to feel warmth again. Jesus shivered, too.
"He loved you just as well as he loved me," Jesus murmured instead of saying any of the self-loathing words that sprang forth in his mind. He longed to reach out and touch the fabric, letting his fingers ease over the familiar dyed linen. He wanted to hug it to his chest, to bury his face into it, never to resurface. It would be the closest thing to an embrace Jesus would ever get from Judas again. But what gave him the right to that?
Mary had tried to go after him. Mary had cared. Mary had been the one to find him, bury him, grieve him.
What had Jesus done?
He had only been the one to drive him to the noose.
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Note
👀 — from @emyn-arnens
Ooh, thank you! So these snippets here are for a WIP that was born out of a question I’d been rolling around in my mind about how Celebrimbor got the Elven rings to Gil-galad, along with a bit of something more AUish. I still hope to get this into a fully fledged fic at some point, but here are some pieces of it:
“I would rather not be here as much as I suspect you don’t wish me here,” Maglor said, his silver eyes shining like stars from the shadows of his hood. “But there was no one else that my nephew could send.”
Elrond shot a look at Gil-galad but the King’s gaze was intent on Maglor’s face his expression revealing little.
“You assume much,” he said at last. “And are not quite honest. There is at least one reason that you would wish to be here, I imagine.” His eyes flickered to Elrond, and Maglor pursed his lips together, averting his gaze. “You told Elrond you bore an urgent message from Celebrimbor. What do you have for me?”
Maglor pulled from within his cloak a letter and a velvet jeweler’s bag that he set on the table.
. . .
“He is not dead yet,” Maglor said in a low, broken voice. “I would feel it if he were, but it’s only a matter of time. Sauron will not let him be rescued.”
Elrond’s gaze flickered to Maglor but his father did not look at him, hand still over his eyes. Gil-galad said nothing for a long moment, his expression grief stricken, then he shook himself.
“We will still try,” he said briskly. “Elrond, give the order for the army to begin preparations. We’ll leave as soon as we are finished here.”
Again Elrond cast a glance at Maglor, but rose to go speak to the chamberlain outside to have him take the message to the barracks. Gil-galad watched him go, then looked back at Maglor who had lifted his head to watch him.
“Thank you,” he said quietly. “For taking care of him.”
“Of course I did. He’s kin,” Gil-galad responded instantly then remembered to who he spoke. There was a faint, bitter smile on Maglor’s face as if he guessed his thoughts.
“I’m aware you don’t consider me kin, High King. It matters not.”
Before Gil-galad could form words, Elrond had returned, resuming his seat beside Maglor and taking his bandaged hand gently in his own again. “Atar, you need to rest and eat,” he said. “And let me tend to your hand.”
Maglor was already shaking his head though the weariness and soul grief in his eyes was clear as a beacon. “No,” he said. “We need to finish this now. I’ve infringed on your King’s good will too long as it is; I’ll take my leave as soon as we conclude.”
“You will do no such thing,” Gil-galad said sharply before Elrond could even open his mouth. “You rode long and hard to reach us at great peril with this burden, you will at least allow yourself to be cared for.”
. . .
“He said he explained everything in the letter,” Maglor said quietly, not looking at the rings that glowed brilliantly on the black velvet.
Gil-galad’s brows furrowed. “He did. But I wonder what he told you.”
He looked up then, silver eyes narrowing in suspicion, but answered. “The rings were made to mimic the elements of the strongest Valar, and in tribute to the lines of Finwe’s sons. Nenya was made specifically for Galadriel. He said one would be for you.”
“And the third?”
“The third he said he’d made for himself,” Maglor returned bluntly. “But that since it wouldn’t be possible, he would trust to you to find someone for it.”
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that-angry-noldo · 1 year
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not to spam you with asks but also I feel like you’re my girl for an Aerin x Tilion snippet during the war of wrath I NEED TO KNOW WHAT THEY WERE UP TO ❤️❤️
your wish is my command. hope you enjoy <3
-
Aerin bends over the side of the boat, threading her fingers through the cold wind currents. "It's cloudy again," she remarks. "Do you think we'll need to clear out the clouds?"
Tilion looks from above, steadying the steering wheel. "Eh. No, I don't think so. As far as I can tell, they're not Morgoth's. If Manwë doesn't take care of his skies, I won't be doing it for him."
"Sad," Aerin sighs. "Clearing out the clouds is fun."
"It becomes boring after few decades of sailing."
"You become boring after few decades of sailing," Aerin rolls her eyes and walks away from the edge. She climbs up to where her husband is standing, and takes a deep breath. Up here, the stars are both close and distant; it takes a moment for her to tear her eyes aware from the skies and look back, down to earth.
They stand like that for a while, enjoying the silence. Aerin shivers under her cloak, and squints.
"Is that... a battle down there?"
"Huh? Where?"
"A bit to your left. I can't see as good as you so I'm not sure, though."
Tilion stares. He's quiet for a moment. Then, he perks up.
"Yes, there's a battle! Would you hold the wheel for me?"
"So you get all the fun?!" Aerin protests. Tilion is already by the ship's edge, and she takes a moment to fix the course and prevent the wheel from spinning before joining him. She squints again, but sees nothing except for ridiculously small figures - more bugs then people.
"That's Ingwion," Tilion says confidently, and jumps on the taffrail. "You see that golden blob? That's him."
Aerin sighs. "I need glasses," she says. "I can't see anything from here, it's all a blur. What are they into?"
Tilion tilts his head and reaches for his bow. "I think they were ambushed. There are too many of the enemy troops."
"Oh," Aerin says. "Are we going to do something?"
Tilion shoots her a wink. "Do you want to see me in action, beloved?"
"There are people dying, Tilion."
"And do you want me to help them die less?" Tilion grins and draws an arrow. "Let me show you why were they calling me Quickshot way back when."
Aerin watches as he takes aim. "Tilion," she says solemnly. "I'm going to remind you of that nickname every time we share a bed. There are so many jokes in my head, and not one of them is appropriate."
"Beloved, please focus. Look!"
He releases the arrow, and Aerin watches, mesmerized, as it shoots through the sky and disappears. Tilion remains still for a second, and then lets out a triumphant yell. "Perfect shot! Brillant shot, Aerin! Wait, wait, let me try once more- yes! Again! Are you proud of me, Aerin? Another one! I think I deserve a kiss for that. O-ho-ho! And that shot deserved domething more than a kiss, if you know what i mean-"
"Tilion, the only thing you're going to get are the dishes you still didn't wash," Aerin smirks, squinting into the distance. Tilion releases another arrow and turns to her, looking with sad eyes.
"What, not even a small kiss? The smallest kiss? The most petite smallish kiss from the beloved?"
"Mmm... let me think."
"No?"
"No," she grins, wrinkling her nose. Tilion groans and draws another arrow.
"You're the worst."
"But you love me."
"I do. Now, stop teasing me, beloved. I'm trying to win a battle here."
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nirikeehan · 9 months
Note
For the DADWC: This is from the "Invisible Cities" prompt list: "A city whose outskirts keep expanding, bringing waste and confusion along with it," perhaps for Samson?
Heeee thank you Ann, happy Friday! Ended up noodling around with some ideas for a far flung future installment of nightmare au with this one. Thalia and Samson discuss a changed Val Royeaux in a world where Corypheus won.
For @dadrunkwriting
WC: 732
---
Samson beckoned Thalia to the palace balcony. “You’re not gonna jump this time, are you?” he asked, half-joking. 
“No.” Thalia felt the chill of the air through the thin fabric of her dress. She tried not to shiver. 
He put a hand on her bare shoulder, frowned, then removed his cloak and offered to drape it around her. Thalia inhaled sharply and looked away. She did not want to accept his hospitality, but she did not wish to offend him, either. 
It did warm her, though it smelled vaguely sour. Thalia placed her hands on the marble balustrade and said, “What did you wish to show me?” 
Samson leaned one arm against it, legs crossed at the ankle. “Just lookin’ out there, at the city. What do you see?”
Thalia followed his gaze. “Lights,” she whispered. Val Royeaux was much transformed from the last time she had visited, but that had surprised her the most. So much of the landscape had been dark and dead, with whole villages laid to ruin. Val Royeaux, on the other hand, seethed. The streets were overcrowded, teeming with refugees from the war, and it was clear the city’s infrastructure couldn’t handle the strain. “People, clinging to life. No matter the cost.” 
“Yeah,” Samson agreed, his voice distant. “Feels like home.” 
Thalia studied him. He looked almost wistful, if he was capable of such a thing. She had noticed the shield he carried with him into battle — kept polished and pristine on a mounted rack in his pavilion when not needed — bore the crest of Kirkwall. He carried some sort of pride for the place with him, something she found curious. Everything she heard from Cullen made the city sound dismal. She wondered if it was even still standing. 
“I suppose that makes sense,” she said carefully. “Kirkwall must have felt the strain of the influx of migrants, after the Blight.” 
Samson smirked. “Kirkwall’s problems started long before the Blight, little lamb.” 
“So I’ve heard. I’ve never been.” It was strange, to think they were both Marchers — that they had anything in common at all. 
“Me, I was born and bred there. Cut my teeth in Lowtown, with the other cutpurses, thieves and local riff-raff.” 
Thalia narrowed her eyes. Why was he offering her this information, a glimpse into his history? She didn’t trust it. “I see.” 
“Does that bother you?” 
“Why would it?” Thalia chewed her lip and averted her gaze. “You’re one of the most powerful men in the world now.” 
“Mm.” Samson sighed, shifting his weight, and she got the sense he was trying to tell her something, but she couldn’t parse the words. 
He slunk closer, smoothing the collar on the cloak that she hugged to her body. She managed to keep from flinching. “One. And the one higher’n me ain’t even a man.” He took hold of her chin, lifted it so that she’d make eye contact. Thalia hated when he did that. “You’ve never met her, have you? Calpernia.”
Thalia shook her head, noting the sneer that curled his lip as he drawled the syllables of her name. “I heard she’s the Empress now, after Celene…” She trailed off. She still wasn’t sure what had happened to Celene, wondered if Samson would fill in the blanks. 
“That she is. And she’s made a bloody mess of things.”
Thalia’s eyebrows shot upward. “Oh?” 
“Look around you, my sweet. Rubbish piling up in the streets, the stink of too many people crammed into too tight a space. Murders on every corner. The capital of Orlais. Calpernia never cared a whit for any of it. All she ever cared about was her precious Tevinter. Corypheus wasted this place on her.”
He’s jealous, Thalia realized in wonder. She tried not to let this revelation show on her face. “It sounds as though she might be trying the best she can with limited resources.”
“Ha!” Samson snorted. “A delicate answer, but entirely wrong.” Samson sighed. “We must be careful. Now that we’re here, Calpernia will want to see us. You must do your best to charm her; she doesn’t—” His words faltered, his thin fingers straying from the cloak to the strap of her gown. “She doesn’t care for our arrangement. Doesn’t understand it.” 
Well, she won’t be the only one, Thalia thought, but did not say. She didn’t understand Samson most of the time, either. 
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blnk338 · 1 year
Note
my adult teeth got pulled out and i need to had like a couple shots of anesthesia, so rn im dealing with the after effects and it's a bitch omfg im in tremendous pain and in need of comfort :"") if reaper got her teeth pulled out and is like high on anesthesia, what would ghost do
im gonna use this as my announcement for VALENTINES DAY REQUESTS :DD
msg me a cod character (rwys or mw22, and roach) and whatever you'd like and ill do a short drabble/imagines/headcanons! whatever you prefer (but pls lmk if u want something specific!)
sorry about the aftermath btw homie i hope u feel better <3
Ghost isn't good at comforting people, he's hardly good at comforting himself
But seeing Reaper quietly go about her day in pain was the last thing he wanted to watch
Absolute silence came out of her; nodding or signing her responses. He fucking hated that she wasn't firing some light-hearted insult back at Soap or shoving Ghost's own words back into his face-- he wanted her to annoy him and pester him, but she'd been so quiet all day.
She'd slumped herself into her room hours ago, letting the team know she was "filling out reports"-- yeah, right
He carefully stepped over to her door and knocked a few times after checking the hallways-- clear of any wandering eyes-- before he heard the lock click and the door squeak open
She looked just as bored as usual, but her eyes told him all he needed to know. The usually lively, emotional glitters in her gaze were dulled, drowned out by the aches in her jaw
"Papers from Price," he muttered, holding up the stack he'd carried down the hall. He watched her eyes flick down, dread joining her pain, taking the stack from him with a nod and a sigh.
Swallowing back the anxiety that sat in his throat, he pulled out a too-fucking-loud bottle of Advil, holding it forward after the documents. "And... something to get you talking again."
Her eyes lit up, glancing from the little white bottle to him, blinking a few times. "The uh," fuck, he couldn't meet her eyes for more than a second at a time, "--the files are already filled out." Price actually gave him the stack of papers hours ago, but he made sure to get all of the unimportant stuff out of the way so she could relax.
Confusion cloaked her features under the mask, yet it was clear as day to him. She opened her mouth to ask, but he glanced once down the hallway, then back to her again, talking before she could. "Get some sleep, Sergeant."
Gulping back another lump of nervousness, he inhaled, breath hitching in just the slightest, "Take care of yourself."
Terrifying, to say the least. But he did it. Even if it was the most agonizing thing he'd done all day, he hoped that little branch of care would extend enough to make her feel better.
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west-tokyo-incidents · 8 months
Text
Frozen Needles || Part 4
"How long do you think it'll spend awake?" Desir hisses under his breath as the trio make their way around the lake.
Click shakes her head, "I don't know. Last time it was barely awake for ten minutes." She mumbles. She can still hear it in her head.
The roar had been something akin to the great bellow of a plane just over their heads. Loud enough to shake the ground and hurt the ears.
Something had pissed off the Kingsnake.
But it's awake again. And has been for the last three hours. Now is their best shot of getting a good look at the lake.
Closer to the dead tree, Click examines the thing up and down. It's a log that looks like it had been jammed into the shore line. Maybe it had once been alive and growing there, then something killed it and it began its slow tilt towards the water. It still has some branches higher up, but Click won't need to go that far up.
Icicles hang from those branches, a frozen mockery of the needles that had once adorned those same branches. She glances at her partners and nods. Rage nods back and goes to the treeline, beginning to patrol the edge of the woods. Desir perches on a rock jutting above the others on the shore, keeping his own watch of the open space.
The surface of the lake ripples with an unfelt breeze.
She takes a step onto the wood, and hopes it holds.
-----
Boon crouches on the roof of a building, staring down and through a broken window in the building next door.
The 'Kingsnake' as they've codenamed it now, made a very, very big mistake.
They had been able to figure out a specific fluctuation in radio signals when it possessed the body in the compound. And therefore...
Boon has tracked those signals in the Alpha timeline, the parasitic one, to this place.
It's almost comical how far off they'd been. The Kingsnake had fully uprooted the douji and masters and taken them here.
The Appalachian mountains. Technically, these mountains had once connected to the French Alps, millions upon millions of years ago. The range is older than the evolution of bones.
So their nest is here. Somewhere down there.
A gust in the snowstorm makes Boon duck his head against it. Enlil next to him curses at it.
"Fucking hate this weather."
Boon grunts his agreement.
"Any luck?"
Enlil shakes his head, "Not without risking too much. We need to head back, get reinforcements. Better cloaking gear. My clones' gear keeps freaking out past a certain depth. I'm setting up cameras down there, but they're likely to get found, and fast.
Boon nods, "We'll have to move the compound."
"Ugh." But beyond that, Enlil doesn't comment. The clones come up and they disappear to reunite with their original.
"Might be a Cross job, this one. Boring, but... If we can locate them, he can snuff out their souls."
Enlil nods, and the two disappear into a small tear in time that Boon rips open.
-----
She doesn't know what she expects to see. Kneels at the furthest point she feels safe to go on the tree.
The lake, where it isn't frozen at the edges, is black. It's like staring down a well that you can't see the bottom of. No fish, but she doesn't expect any. According to her sensors, it's deep. Way too deep for a lake.
The surface of it moves just slightly, even though there's no way there could be a current.
But what keepa her still, frozen in place... Is the deep, haunting, sense of apathy.
It feels like whatever is in there could flick a finger and send her flying with as much care as someone flicking a bug off their water bottle in the summer heat.
It feels like when Songbird took her to the edge of Mother's body and she saw the Labyrinth for the first time.
And above all that, she wonders...
What the hell happens to the ones the Kingsnake shoves into this thing?
She sits there for a moment, lost in her own mind... Before she realizes the depths aren't so empty.
Something is looking back at her.
Her hair stands on end.
There's no glowing eyes to pierce the blackness, no gigantic form of any monster. She's staring down a dark room and knows there's something in it. Something looking back at her.
And she can feel a sick kind of joy in that gaze.
She scrambles off the log, nearly falling in twice, before Desir catches her and she curls up against him.
"They're in there." She whispers.
"What?"
"They're still in there. The ones he drowned. They're still alive. One saw me." She shakes her head, "We need to go."
Desir just nods, then whistles to Rage, and the three head back out.
Click wants to shed her skin, peel off her face, get rid of every part of her that had been seen by... Whoever that was. Whatever it was.
She's glad for the familiar snow that crunches under her feet, the smell of blood in the air, the pang of hunger in her systems.
"Click...!" Desir is calling her. How long has he been calling for her? She turns around. She'd gotten farther ahead of them than she realized. She waits for him to catch up, "What the hell did you see? I've never seen you spooked like this."
She shakes her head, "I didn't see anything... But I felt it. And it was happy, Desir." She shakes her head again, "The Kingsnake has no idea what he's doing. Whatever that lake is... He isn't in control of it. He's just throwing bodies into it like it's a trash can."
Rage stares at her out of the corner of his eye.
"I've got to wake up. I have to. I have to warn them."
Desir grabs her shoulder, "Click. You know we can't do that. We don't know how."
Click shakes her head, nearly in hysterics, "Desir, I have seen creatures that tear through timelines like butter. I've seen douji who learn to craft entire dimensions at will. That? That isn't something we can handle like we usually do. If they find the Kingsnake and kill him... He's the only thing holding this place stable. I don't know what will happen if he dies, Desir. I have to wake up...!!"
"We don't know how!!" He snaps, yelling. Rage snaps at him, his vocal cords breaking and bleeding heavily as he snarls at Desir.
Click freezes in place, her lips curving into a snarl.
Rage pushes himself between them.
The tension stays for a moment, but Desir shakes his head, "I'm sorry... But unless the Kingsnake lets you, you're not waking up. And we both know he isn't going to do that."
"..." She stares at him. Her shoulders slowly drop down.
He's right. She hates it. Hates it more than anything. Tears sting cold at the edges of her eyes.
God, what she wouldn't give for a drink right now. A trip to the Roost.
Kvas...
She doesn't even realize she's trembling until Rage gently pushes his muzzle under her arm, comforting her.
"...Let's get back to the den, okay? We still have food. And Jealousy's still asleep. We can't stay in the trees for long." He looks up and around, "And the last thing you need is to die and wake up halfway across the mountain."
She nods numbly, running her fingers over Rage's mane before turning to follow Desir. She stays with them this time. For a while... Her mind is blank. But slowly, gears begin to turn again.
With each crunch in the snow, another turn of the crank. Goldie's tale about the lake waking people up is a lie, obviously. But many people who aren't Frostbitten can still wake up. People who aren't under the Kingsnake's control.
How do they keep waking up? Is it because they're alive? If so, does that mean she's been killed in the waking world? That can't be true. She's under the observation of Urban Ghost AND Bloodline. Maybe they've taken her body out of the timeline to keep her safe.
No, Desir said before he was killed that the Kingsnake had forced Rage to keep sleeping, to keep him here.
She pauses, staring at the snow for a second.
Desir turns and looks at her, "What is it?"
"I need to talk to him."
"Who?"
"The Kingsnake."
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