#now. how on earth do i begin to tag this. um. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nsharks · 1 year

Text

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part nine —other parts

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader words: 3.2k tags: death. blood. zombies of course. reader menstruates. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn't here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival. a/n: no comment

The beam gave a nasty cut to your hand.

Tetanus, blood, infections— more threats.

You sit on a rock by the river to fix it up. Before you can dab on the hydrogen peroxide from your new med kit, Blue insists on doing it for you— soft fingertips against your broken skin. She is by far a gentler nurse than her father. You focus on her pink cheeks and scrunched nose as she concentrates. It helps you ignore the sting.

"You scared the shit out of me for a second there, Twix.”

"Sorry. I guess I need to work on my balance."

She gives a stilted laugh. The gauze comes next, just a thin layer since the bleeding has already stopped.

"Thanks for asking him to help me," you add in a whisper. You smile. "I don't think I've ever had a friend save my life so many times."

Blue cuts the gauze and begins tying it off. "I didn't actually have to ask him this time, you know. Like I said, he doesn’t hate you.”

You glance to where Ghost has taken the short break to lean against a tree and drink some water, pale jaw and pink lips exposed. An actual human hides under all that gear and horrifying mask. It annoys you that he doesn't just take it off.

You look back at her, eyes rolling. “You're lying."

She closes the med kit and shrugs. “Friends don't lie."

The afternoon sun bleeds white light over your cheeks as the three of you keep walking. Just meters away from the river, Ghost points out a small cabin. One that hunters used back in the day, you bet. He says it could be a good place to stay for the night. The scent of the rushing water nearby should do some to mask your human scent.

Rolling hills take place of the trees. To the west, you can see the faint outline of mountains dipped in white snow. Well, as much of mountains as you can find in England. They are not nearly as tall as the ones your parents used to take you skiing to in France.

You grow quiet and let Blue do all the talking. Maybe you are embarrassed after almost falling into the river.

Just when she asks - How much further? - something strange pops up in the distance. White medical tents— well, you assume they were once white. They are now torn and grey, with some blue crates beneath them. Confusion swells in your chest and you can't help but speak up.

"Why is this all here?" you ask, your boots stepping over some stray medical tools. Scalpels, tweezers, and syringes. Pressed into the rich earth like fossils. You would pick them up if they weren't rusted past the point of being useful.

"I don't know," Blue answers. "Ghost?"

"Emergency medical camp the military set up," he says.

"After shit happened?" she asks.

He gives a curt nod as he looks around at the remnants. "Those that were left were tryin' to help survivors in the first few days. Didn't last long, though."

"Is that what your friends were doing after you ditched them?"

"Told you, kid. They weren't my friends."

"Alright, teammates. Whatever. Were they helping with injured people here?" she asks curiously.

"A few of them were.”

Blue looks at you. "Twix, did I ever tell you about that?"

"Um. About what?"

"Well, Ghost was supposed to be working when shit happened," she raises her brows and juts a thumb at him. "But he snuck away from his post to get all our stuff and come find me and my mum."

You swallow at the mention of her mom and avoid looking at Ghost. "Snuck away?"

"Yeah," she nods, "It's called dessert."

"Desertion," he gruffly corrects her.

"What?" you ask.

"He abandoned his assignment," she explains. "But he always says he would do it again if he had to. Anyway, he used to talk to his teammates on his radio to see how they were and stuff— what was happening. But then they got too far away for it to work."

Of course Ghost had a radio.

Paul had one, too. You can remember huddling around that radio like it was a mouthpiece for some god. The static grew choppier and choppier over the first few days. The channels dwindled. Eventually, it stopped working altogether and you didn't learn much about what happened in the outside world. You did learn that London was one of the quickest cities to succumb to the infection. Then, Paris, Bangkok, and Chicago.

Everywhere.

You process the new information as you keep walking through the tents, peering into some opened crates to see if anything is left— nothing is.

Now you know Ghost left his post when he found out about the virus. He stocked up on supplies and then got Blue and her mom. By the way Blue mentions her, it must be an old loss. How long did her mother survive with them, then? Did she use to live in the cabin with them?

You don’t know why your stomach grows tight, but the questions in your brain fade once the military base comes into view.

"Finally," Blue sighs rather dramatically.

A high, chain-link fence surrounds the place. There are a few buildings and some abandoned vehicles that look like jeeps. The fence has multiple gaps cut into it so climbing is unnecessary. Ghost leads the way. You continue sniffing the air. With your bandaged hand, you keep your bow poised and subconsciously walk closer to their footsteps.

Ghost takes you to the main building in the center. The British flag flutters beside it on a pole, faded and as meaningless as the one sewn on Ghost’s bicep.

"Are we going through the barracks again this time?" Blue perks up.

"We have to go through 'em to get to the armory,” he says.

"Cool. There might be some good shit left behind."

There isn't much good shit, actually.

You don't know what the other military base they went to was like, but this one is unsettling and seems to be ransacked. Sunlight pours in through the shattered windows. Scattered papers and strewn bones decorate the tile floors. Thick cobwebs hang in the corners.

As you walk through the hallway of old dorms, Blue and Ghost stop looking in them after the first four turn out to contain only tipped-over cots, walls smeared with old blood, and even a few scampering vermin that make her yelp and grab hold of Ghost's arm.

He grows stiffer than usual. You don’t have to pry off the skull mask to know what he is thinking. Ghost is not the only person who thought of coming here. If these rooms are mostly empty, then what is left in the armory?

Still, you check out a few more of them on your own as they walk up ahead. You rummage through closets and drawers. You find three pairs of men's socks. More useful than one might think.

In one room, you kneel down by the unkempt cot to dig a black backpack out from under it. You can’t believe that Ghost, as big as he is, ever slept on these things. The backpack’s zipper catches as you try to open it, the metal teeth rusted, so you cut a hole in the fabric with your knife. Inside, you find another military-grade knife to add to your arsenal and some wrapped ready-to-eats.

When you check the closet, the sight of a full skeleton causes you to jump back in a startled step, a few rats running out between your boots.

"Oh, fuck," you mutter, noticing a bullet hole in the skull. A handgun lies beside the body, but you discover the magazine to be empty. Whatever bullet it once had was likely spent on this person's suicide. You stick it in your bag, anyway. A preserved uniform hangs loose on the bones. There is a mouth-sized tear in the forearm of the right sleeve, fitting for a bite. In the breast pocket, a silver chain spills out. Curiously, you grab it. A dog tag with an engraved name catches the light. John MacTavish. You run a thumb over the letters.

“Sorry, John.”

You decide to respectfully put it back in the pocket, and head out, satisfied enough with your modest finds. It’s not like you own as much as Ghost does. You leave the room and run to catch back up with them.

"You okay? Find anything?" Blue asks.

"Not much," you quietly admit. "A knife and some new socks."

"Finally. Your old ones are starting to stink," she remarks with a playful smirk.

You scrunch your nose at her, making a face. “Gee, thanks."

She returns the teasing gesture just before Ghost’s arm ushers her behind him.

The moment he does, your guard rises back up. You slap an arrow onto your bow. You smell them before you see them. Four - no, five - drag out of opened doorways up ahead along with a cacophony of whistled moans. Most are still dressed in the same military uniforms as the skeleton you found. One isn't wearing anything at all. It’s disgusting.

Ghost doesn't bother to let Blue practice this time.

He shoots the faster, fresher one first as it runs up to them. For the slower ones, he saves his ammo and opts for the axe. The sight of him effortlessly striking their skulls is almost enough to distract you. Almost. Your fingers release the string and send a headshot to the last one. It is a perfect shot. An arrow straight through the milky-white eye. One of your best.

You meet his eyes just as he slips the axe back to his waist, shooting him a raised brow. The two of you hold an awkwardly long stare-off. Though you loathe to admit it, you hope for some type of approval - for once - but all he gives is a short nod.

Blue retrieves the arrow for you and you tuck it back into your quiver.

"Great aim, Twix," she quips. "Where did you learn how to use your bow?"

"My old friend taught me a bit," you say as the three of you step over the fallen corpses.

"What was his name again?"

"Paul."

"Oh, right." She pauses, and then: "Were you having sex with him?"

"Jesus Christ, kid," Ghost says.

"What?" She peers up at him.

Before he can say anything else, you answer with a light flush crawling up your neck, “No, I wasn’t. He was just my friend.”

The three of you make it to the armory.

The aluminum door is already parted open. Ghost clicks on a flashlight and gives the room a quick sweep of fluorescent light before entering.

A number of pried-open crates and olive-green cabinets litter the inside. Drawers hang open like a tornado ripped through. A few stray rifles lay scattered on the floor. Ghost picks up each one and checks for cartridges. Empty. Each rifle is thrown back on the floor with more force than the previous. He needs more ammo, not more guns.

Whatever was in this armory is gone. This truth hangs heavy in the air. The mood shifts. Blue doesn’t talk. Billows of growing frustration roll off Ghost's body as he continues to search through every crevice and every drawer for almost an hour.

You know what he is feeling, even if he half-expected this.

It is a feeling that made you cry in the empty pharmacy. For Ghost, it ends up driving a clenched fist into one of the cabinets, dented metal left in its wake. He swears explosively. Another shudder runs through your spine, stealing your breath, but it feels far different from the one his soft voice invited.

"Is there... is there anywhere else we can check, Dad?" Blue speaks up softly. “Maybe in all those cars outside?”

He takes a moment to breathe before answering. "We don't have time to check ‘em all.”

“Well, maybe we could come back in the morning and look a bit more?”

“Maybe,” he says, but you read the tone in his voice. It is unlikely there is ammo left in the vehicles, and even if there is, it is definitely not as much as he was hoping to have found in here.

Before leaving, he stuffs one of the rifles in his backpack. An uncomfortable silence consumes the journey back through the hall.

You make it outside again. The afternoon has aged. You need to get back to that hunting cabin by the river before the threat of dark.

Ghost guides you back towards the fence.

You hear Blue's soft humming. The flap of the old flag. Your own steady heartbeat.

And then, out of nowhere, he stops and grabs Blue's arm to bring her to a halt beside him. He looks around. Confused, you scan the view up ahead of you, but all that is there are a few of those military jeeps and the fence you entered through. You sniff the air. It doesn't smell particularly awful.

Then, the cause for Ghost's unease arrives loud in your ears.

A single gunshot sounds from a direction you can't discern. Your heart stutters. The suddenness freezes you for a moment. In your peripheral, you think you catch a brush of movement in some bushes to your right.

Ghost quickly pulls Blue behind one of the vehicles for cover. Only when you feel the rush of another bullet whizzing past your shoulder do your legs finally move— so fast that your feet catch on the ground and you stumble down beside them. Your knees dig into the earth as you land on your hands, but you quickly lift up and press your shoulder against the side of the car.

You choke. "Ghost… people."

People are fucking shooting at us, is what you mean to say. Panic steals your voice.

Who? How many?

Another bullet ricochets off the other side of the car, clanking against the metal. And then another. Glass shatters.

Ghost doesn't respond to you. Underneath the loud sounds, a soft voice whimpers. You finally look to where Blue is propped up against the large tire, Ghost kneeling at her front. His hand is tightly clamped over the side of her right thigh, and it is now that you notice the blood soaking through her jeans and his glove.

Blue's blood.

Crimson and glistening.

She whimpers again and her fingers twist the fabric of his coat.

"Dad, it— it feels like it's burning," she cries out, her cheeks turning wet from a sudden onslaught of tears.

"Fuck. I know, baby. I know."

She flinches when another gunshot rings out. "W-What do we do?"

You try to form a proper thought— try to make sense of everything. Before you can, Ghost grabs your hand, firmly replacing his hold on her wound with yours. The warm liquid immediately drenches your palm and you swallow, pressing as hard as you can, attempting to pack it crudely.

He speaks decisively. "Stay here with her. Wrap it up.”

"Ghost, you don't know how many fucking people there are," you say, panic turning your voice into something unrecognizable as you place your other hand on his arm. The muscles tense and leap.

“I didn't fucking ask you. I am telling you. Now do it."

He doesn’t give you the opportunity to protest again, but you wouldn’t even if he did because you fully realize that this is the best course of action. He needs to get rid of them. You need to tend to her wound. A strangled cry leaves Blue's lips when he departs. You coax her with soft hushes.

"It’s okay. He'll be right back.”

Urgently, you sling the bag off your shoulder and take out your own med kit. You don’t think twice about it. Not for a second. Not when all you can think about is making sure her soft, blue eyes stay open. When you move your hand from her thigh, the sight worries and relieves you at the same time.

You don't know much about bullet wounds, but you know where the femoral artery runs, and by the looks of it, it was missed. Still, a nice chunk of her flesh has been torn, revealing obliterated muscle. You don't see any bone or bits of metal, but it is hard to see much of anything with all the blood.

With fingers that shake, you use the same gauze she nursed your hand with to begin tightly dressing her thigh. As you do, your eyes flash up and around in a feeble search for where Ghost could be, but you can’t see him from behind the vehicle.

"Is it bad?" she asks, voice laced with a tremor. When your gaze returns to her, you notice that pale lips replace her usual rosy-pink ones. Her forehead is sheened with sweat.

"It looks worse than it is," you say.

"Are you... are you telling me the truth?"

"I am. Promise," you whisper. "Friends don't lie, right?"

Sporadic gunfire continues to pierce your ears. It sounds more distant now. You have no idea if it belongs to Ghost or whoever these people are. You push the uncertainties away, assuring yourself that he can handle however many of them there are, and focus on tying off the gauze, desperate to keep her blood in.

Blue suddenly blurts out, “Twix.”

You look up and meet her eyes. They are pointed at something behind you.

#simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #zombies

2K notes · View notes

minustwofingers · 1 year

Text

exoplanet p.3

pairing: ellie williams x fem! reader (ur a girly girl in this one!!) (she/her pronouns)

summary: you’ve won the life lottery as one of the few people on earth with parents who gained admittance to the most prestigous safezone in the world after the outbreak. but after a lab accident sends you out to jackson, wyoming, real life hits you fast. it’s a good thing that a hot lesbian finds u. (lol). mean ellie at first, slowburn, enemies to friends to lovers, fem reader asf

warnings: (PLEASE READ!) explicit language, violence, description of a medical procedure sans anesthesia, recreational drug use (idk how else to put it ellie gets absolutely zonked in the beginning), reader overthinks asf and is a little neurotic but that's why we love her x

a/n: hey guys! thank you so much for the wait! it's been genuinely insane how sweet and incredible all of you are. i've never felt so appreciated for my writing!! also, some notes: this chapter is heavily inspired by my last relationship. sorry if it's not as immersive bc of it! and also i don't have ANY medical knowledge so...cast a blind eye when u get to that scene

part 1

part 2

tags: @prettyplant0 @666findgod @sawaagyapong @rystarkov @buzzybuzzsposts @addisonnie @galacticstxrdust @parkersmyth @pinkazelma

wc: 6.6k

enjoy x

“One more time.”

You gave Ellie a withering look from where you were sitting at the end of her bed.

“Please,” she said, drawing out the s. “Just once more. I promise.”

“Fine.” You rolled your eyes—a habit of hers that you were quickly picking up—and took in a deep breath. “Fuck.”

Ellie lost it, peals of laughter bouncing off the walls. “Another one. Say something else.”

“I don’t understand why you think this is so funny,” you said.

“You say it so weird.”

“I enunciate,” you clarified. “I don’t ‘sound weird’. It’s called pronouncing every letter in the word and not having a lazy mouth.”

“Please,” she gasped. “At least say bitch. You haven’t said that one yet.”

You looked her dead in the eye. “Bitch.”

If you weren’t already certain that Ellie was high out of her mind by the smell of her room and the general haze in the air, the way she howled with laughter and fell back on her bed would’ve made you entirely positive.

This was new. You’d begun to hang out with her in her room after dinner—that was normal—but when she’d knocked on your door smelling heavily of weed once you’d said goodnight to Joel, you were nothing less than shocked. Of course, she had none left for you. Which was probably good, because only a sober mind could navigate a night sitting on Ellie’s bed without doing something really, really stupid.

“I can’t believe you call me weird,” you said, tucking your feet under her and giving her a pointed look.

“You’re so lucky you didn’t grow up where I did,” Ellie said, wiping a tear away from her cheek as she tried (unsuccessfully) to rein in her giggles. “You would’ve been eaten alive, good lord.”

“What were you like as a kid?” you asked, resting your chin on your knees.

She considered for a moment, growing more somber. “Um…I don’t know if you would’ve liked me very much.”

“What do you mean? Of course I would’ve liked you.”

“No,” she said, swiping at her face so she pushed a strand of hair away. “I don’t think you would have.”

“Why not?”

“I was…” She paused, picking at her cuticles. “Back then I didn’t have anyone. I was an orphan, you know. My parents were never in the picture, so I was the only one I could count on. I was really rough around the edges and could be nasty. But I probably would’ve ignored you like I did everyone else. “

“Everyone? You didn’t have anyone? No friends at all?”

Ellie blinked, and her gaze remained fixed on her hands. “Basically, yeah. I mean, there was one girl, but that’s…I don’t want to talk about that right now, actually.”

“That’s okay,” you said, reaching forward to touch her knee. She flinched at the contact but didn’t brush you away. The image of a young, scared Ellie living somewhere alone made your chest ache. “You don’t have to tell me.”

“What were you like?” she asked, tilting her head and meeting your eyes.

“Hmmm…” Mirth crept into your tone. “What do you think?”

“What do I think?” Ellie echoed, her eyes cloudy as she thought. Then a small smirk formed on her face. “Oh god, were you one of those spoiled brats? Were you a mean girl?”

“God, no,” you said, raising your eyebrows. “Not mean.”

“Then what?”

You paused. “I was really shy, I guess. And quiet, too. I didn’t do much but read for a good 10 years of my life. I used to have awful pronunciation because I would spend more time reading than talking to anyone. But I think I would’ve liked you.”

Ellie shook her head.

“Yes,” you said. “Maybe I would’ve been a little scared of you. I probably would’ve never had the courage to talk to you. But I would’ve liked you, I think.”

“Scared of me?”

“Yeah.”

“Why? I was a kid.”

“I was mostly going off of how I felt when I actually first met you,” you said, shrugging.

She gasped theatrically. “You’re scared of me?”

“No!” you said, smacking her knee. “That’s not what I mean. You’re just really intimidating.”

“Intimidating?” She looked at you incredulously.

“You’re so tough,” you explained, feeling heat grow in your cheeks. “You seem just—I don’t know, just so capable. There’s nothing you’re too afraid to face, nothing you’re too afraid to say.”

“That’s not true,” she said lightly.

“Well, of course I’m sure there are things that you’re afraid of,” you amended. “But you hide it so well. You just seem so…fearless.”

“Hm,” Ellie said, letting her head rest against the headboard. “I think you would’ve made me a nervous wreck. If we’d met when we were kids, I mean.”

“Why?”

She shrugged. “I’ve never met anyone quite like you before. You’re just so untouched.” She winced. “God, no. That sounds gross. I just mean…I dunno. I wouldn’t have known how to act around you. You haven’t had to harden up like everyone else I know.”

“Are you saying I should develop trust issues or something?” you asked, your voice a teasing lilt.

“You know,” she said, nodding seriously, “That is part of it. It was really off-putting how quickly you trusted me. But I guess that’s just a product of where you grew up.”

“Yeah,” you said softly. “I wonder how I would’ve turned out if I’d grown up like you.”

“Can I be honest?” Ellie asked.

“Sure.”

“I don’t think you’d still be here if you were me,” she said, her eyes crinkling. “No offense. You just have zero survival skills. I swear that shit has to be genetic. I’ve never met someone more averse to violence in my life.”

You sighed, pressed your hands deep into Ellie’s comforter as a thought hit you. “I think if you’d been born in my position, you would’ve been greater than anything either of us could ever dream of. Much greater than me.”

“Definitely not,” said Ellie. “There’s no fucking way I’m studying the way you apparently do. I honestly think I’d take being an orphan over the study schedule I saw in your bag.”

She was of course referencing the time table you’d roughly sketched up the morning before you’d ended up in Jackson. It was blocked to the minute, citing the study content and the location of said study session. She’d been beyond horrified to see it.

You laughed, nudging her socked food with yours.

“Is there music? In Terranova?”

“Oh,” you said, startled at the abrupt change of subject. “Uh, yeah. Of course. I listened to it all the time.”

“I used to have a Walkman,” she said, leaning back as she reminisced. She was lying flat on her back now. “It ended up breaking a while ago, but it was like my child.”

“Have you ever seen a movie before?” you asked, sitting up rigid straight as the thought occurred to you.

“Duh,” she said, giving you a weird look. “Do you think I live under a rock?”

“How many?”

“Hm.” Ellie began counting, ending on her second hand. “I think 6?”

“You’ve seen a total of 6 movies in your life?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want to see more?”

She shrugged. “I mean, I guess. It’s just tough to find CDs that are still functional after so long.”

“Hold that thought,” you said, holding a finger in her direction as you stood up.

“Hey!” she called as you bolted out the door. “Where are you going?”

You came bounding back to her room in a matter of seconds, your laptop in your hands.

“What the fuck?” she said. “Isn’t that your homework thing?”

“Yes,” you said, feeling around for an outlet, “But I also have a ridiculous amount of movies downloaded on this. Our dorm wi-fi is shit and I have way too much storage on this thing, so I just download, like, every movie I’ve ever wanted to watch.”

“Your dorm what?”

You waved your hand. The last thing you wanted to do was explain to her how the 802.11 standard allowed wireless connections a few years after the outbreak. “Not important. Here, come look at this.”

Your laptop roared to light with the help of your charging cord. Quickly, you typed your password in and opened your downloads. Ellie hovered over your shoulder, squinting at the screen with confusion.

“Here,” you said, opening up the album that had everything you had seen for your entire university career and passing the laptop to Ellie. “Use the touchpad—there, yeah—to navigate. Press to click. These are all movie files that I’ve seen. We can watch them on my laptop. Some of them were filmed in Terranova, too, so they’re post-apocalypse.”

She perused the selection you had for quite some time, the glow of the screen lighting up her face against the dim room. “Okay. This one.”

And thus began a tradition. Each night after you’d finished showering and Joel retired to his room, Ellie would come knock on your door and ask if you wanted to come over. You’d talk for a while, then open your laptop and pick something out to watch. Ellie was never high after the first time, which was unsurprising considering that there definitely wasn’t a way to get any in Jackson. Where she found any the first time was still a mystery to you.

A week or so after your first patrol with Ellie, Joel had taken it upon himself to teach you how to shoot. You were surprisingly not as bad as you’d expected, but the rebound was tough to get used to, and you were still hung up over the whole “killing living things” part.

Your first patrol—first real one—came quickly, and before you knew it, Ellie was handing you the same gun you’d dropped the first time with a suspicious look.

“Don’t kill one of us with that thing,” she warned. “Be smart, okay?”

“Sure thing, boss,” you said to her, mock saluting as best you could while you were leading Japan to the mounting block.

She rolled her eyes. “Please act normal or I’ll make you carry around that glorified pocket knife instead again.”

The patrol began as usual, Ellie leading you down the same path you went last time. It was a beautiful day out, with the early spring sun filtering through the evergreen trees that populated the woods and birdsong filling the air.

Though conversations with Ellie were getting easier (given that it actually seemed like she wanted to talk to you now), you were still starstruck. Nothing that you did and nothing that you thought could get you to stop seeing her the way you did. You were routinely distracted by everything about her. It was a wonder that you could even function as a normal person around her, much less handle a weapon and a horse.

You two had nearly made the full rotation when your surroundings exploded in action.

“Fuck,” Ellie hissed as someone behind you two fired a shot that narrowly missed Shimmer.

You whipped around, gun in hand, to see two men—two normal men who weren’t infected. One held a bow, the other a gun.

The one who had fired the first shot never even stood a chance. He was down on the ground seconds after you’d seen him, Ellie’s aim taking him out before you could even ready your gun.

The second man notched an arrow and managed to draw it back and release into the air right as Ellie’s bullet struck him, sending him falling back.

“I don’t think there’s any more,” said Ellie, slightly breathless as she scanned the forest. “Sometimes outsiders pull this shit—try to kill us for our supplies. I’ve never seen them this close to the wall, though. I’ll have to tell Maria and Tommy.”

Normally, you would’ve felt up to making some sort of sarcastic comment about how that was a really unconcerning thing for her to tell you and that you actually felt so much more comfortable going on patrol knowing that there were also just run-of-the-mill people trying to kill you, but a twinge in your lower body distracted you.

Slowly, nervously, you looked down. Air immediately left your lungs.

“At least we’re done,” Ellie was saying, wiping her hands off on her thighs and slinging the gun over her shoulder. “What a crazy end for your first actual patrol, huh?”

When you didn’t answer, she turned to you and saw the arrow sticking out of your side,

“Shit,” said Ellie, jumping off Shimmer and reaching you in seconds. “Shit, shit, shit. Oh god.”

“Am I going to die?” you asked, staring starstruck at the blood escaping the outline of the arrowhead. You couldn’t feel anything anymore. Were you in shock?

“No,” said Ellie firmly. “Absolutely not. Do you need help getting off?”

Before you could answer, she was already helping you down, carefully avoiding the protruding arrow.

“Listen,” she said, back to being her unwavering self, “We’re right by the wall. I’m going to help you walk in, and then I’ll grab some supplies, okay? Don’t try to pull the arrow out. You hear me? Don’t.”

Swallowing hard, you nodded. She helped you walk the few steps to be carefully concealed by the wall, then grabbed the two horses and darted past you, making a break for Maria and Tommy’s cabin.

In a haze of confusion, you could see Maria running out, holding a box out to Ellie in exchange for the reins of the horses. Ellie said something that made Maria point towards you. She nodded, then ran back to you.

By the time that she’d reached you, the shock had begun to wear off, replaced by the stinging pain from the object that had impaled you. It was worse than anything you’d ever felt before in your life, and it took all you had not to keel over.

“Hey,” she said, reaching out to grab your face so you had to look at her. “Don’t be afraid. I’ve done this before, okay? I’m, like, the master. It’s going to be alright.”

“Done what before?” you managed to grind out.

Ellie let go of your face to dig through the box Maria had given her, producing a needle, a bottle of rubbing alcohol, and what looked like a spool of thin thread.

Horror slowly trickled through you as you realized what was about to happen.

“It doesn’t look all that deep,” Ellie was saying as she examined the arrow. “So I don’t think it’s hit anything. It’s just going to be a nasty hole. I’m going to pull it out now, okay?”

You let out a strangled scream as she grasped the arrow’s end and yanked it out without warning.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Ellie repeated. She threw the arrow over her shoulder and knelt so she was hovering over you. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you gasped. You were most certainly not. You couldn’t quite get your eyes to focus, and your heart was beating out of your chest.

“Alright,” she said firmly, grasping your shoulders and pulling you up so you were slumped against the wall. “Sit up straight, alright? Also, this is going to hurt.”

At first there were just snipping sounds as she cut part of your shirt away—then something cool and wet pressed to your wound. You cried out again as a fresh white hot pain bloomed in your middle.

“I know, I know.” Ellie’s voice was consoling as she reached up to brush away the sweaty strands of hair stuck to your forehead. “Just a few more seconds.”

“Fuck—off—” you gritted out from your teeth.

Ellie’s eyebrows shot up. “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that. Just this once.”

She released the alcohol-saturated cotton pad, throwing it aside and fussing with the thread and needle until she was satisfied.

By the time her fingers were ghosting over your abdomen again, you couldn’t pull your eyes away from the puncture wound and the needle she was wielding.

“Don’t look,” said Ellie. “Pick something else. You don’t need to watch.”

“I hate needles,” you whispered, choosing the air over her shoulder to be your focal point.

There was a prodding at the top of your wound, and you hissed.

“I can’t say I’m a fan myself.”

Something pierced through your skin, and your midriff exploded in pain.

The edges of your sight went fuzzy, stars forming in the corners of your vision. Someone that sounded suspiciously like you cried out. Your cheek rammed up against something solid and warm.

Once the initial sting had faded, you realized that you’d slumped into Ellie, your face buried into her neck. She didn’t make any move to push you off, instead just taking one hand to brush up and down your arm with a feather light touch.

“You're fine," she said firmly. "Everything's going to be fine."

Your fingers curled around the hem of her shirt as the needle exited through the other end of your wound, pulling another whine from your throat. It was easier to not feel like you were about to pass out when you were crushed into Ellie, clinging onto her and just focusing on the way she felt against you.

“Hang on, I'm almost there,” she muttered a few stitches later. You’d quieted down, only letting out the occasional gasp as she pulled the thread through. “You're doing so well. Just one more.”

Now that you were more conscious, you had no idea how she was managing to stitch your side while you were nearly on her lap, but she continued to weave her needle through your skin, pulling it taut.

“And done,” said Ellie. You felt her take another cotton square to swipe against your skin.

You laid against her for a few more moments, panting as the shock slowly began to fade. She shifted, and for a moment you were sure that she was going to shove you away, but then the hand she’d lifted hesitantly rested on your head, her fingers parting to card through your hair.

“How did you learn how to do that?” you asked, your voice muffled from where you were pressed against her.

“Trial and error.”

Her joke was enough for you to finally let go, sitting back against the wall. Her hand slithered out of your hair, resting back in her lap.

“Shut up,” you said. “That’s awful.”

Ellie shrugged.

“I’m sorry,” you said, feeling the bumpiness of the stony wall press into your back. “I have a really low pain tolerance.”

“So I’ve noticed,” said Ellie, the side of her mouth quirking.

“I’ve never been hurt before,” you heard yourself saying. “Like, beyond the occasional splinter or bee sting or accidental scrape or ankle sprain. It’s just not something that happens.”

“Must be nice.”

You smiled sadly. “Yeah. It’s not nice being weak, though.”

Ellie looked away from you then, silent as she packed up the first-aid kit. Then: “I don’t think that’s true.”

She’d said it lightly, like it was meant to be an offhand comment, a throwaway addition that wouldn’t be remembered by either of you. But the sentiment still struck you, twisting your heart.

You were less capable because your survival had never required anything more. You were weak because you could be.

Her voice from the night she’d been high floated back to you. You haven't had to harden up like everyone else I know.

Out here, weakness was a luxury few could afford.

“Not so untouched anymore, huh?” you said, since you didn’t know how else to respond.

“I won’t tell anyone if you don’t,” quipped Ellie. “But if I were you, I wouldn’t lose sleep over it. I still consider needing to be held to get 4 stitches as being soft. You haven’t changed a bit. No offense.”

Your cheeks burned bright red. “I—”

“I’m teasing,” she said before you could defend yourself. “Arrow wounds suck. I get it.”

“Right.” You turned away, keeping your gaze fixed firmly on the ground beside you. With feeling more yourself came the inevitable shame at what you’d just done. What had you been thinking, touching her like that? Grabbing onto her like that?

This was going to haunt you for the rest of your life.

“Don’t make that face,” said Ellie. “I’m sorry for saying that. I didn’t mean to embarrass you. It really is fine.”

It was not fine. It would never be fine. You wanted the thugs to come back to life and finish you off, and then have the earth open up and swallow you for good measure.

Ellie probably thought of you as an overgrown child. You doubted that there was ever a point where she could see you as anything equal. If she ever knew how often she appeared in your imagination, she’d probably be disgusted.

She called you pretty a contrarian voice in your head reminded you. Don't you remember?

But maybe she hadn’t meant it. She hadn’t said it explicitly: “Y/N, I think you’re pretty.” She just hadn’t argued when you’d pointed it out. Maybe because she was being nice, or maybe because she was actually being sarcastic.

“You were really brave, okay?” said Ellie. “Your first armed confrontation and you did well.”

“I didn’t shoot anyone.”

“It could have gone worse,” said Ellie. “You could’ve accidentally shot me. Or died. And neither of those things happened, so that’s successful in my book.”

“That’s very glass half-full of you.”

“That’s me. Ever the optimist.”

You snorted.

That night, Ellie knocked on your door and asked you if you were up for another movie. You found yourself sitting on her comforter, plugging in your computer and booting it up minutes later.

Physically speaking, it had always been a little awkward to fit two people on her twin bed if they weren’t right next to each other, given that your laptop screen was a very unimpressive size. When you’d first started watching with her, Ellie would rest against the headboard, her legs stretched out in front of you while you would sit with your legs crossed, positioned sideways so you weren’t accidentally pushing her legs off.

But after the day you had had, your back was sore and your whole body ached. Sitting on something soft without any back support as you angled yourself to look at the screen was quickly proving unsustainable.

“Pause,” said Ellie about ten minutes in. You’d been watching an older sci-fi flick—Ellie’s choice.

You complied, leaning forward and pressing the spacebar. “What’s up?”

“Are you even comfortable sitting like that?”

“Yeah,” you said.

“Liar,” accused Ellie, crossing her arms over her chest. “Don’t think I don’t see you ‘discreetly’ cracking your back every 2 minutes. It’s ruining the movie.”

“Sorry,” you said, shaking your head and smiling in exasperation. “It’s from all the years I spent hunched over a textbook.”

“You know, you can sit up here,” she said, patting the space beside her. “I don’t bite.”

“Jury’s still out on that,” you said, though by the time Ellie let out a laugh you were already unfolding your legs and moving so you were next to her.

She leaned forward, grabbing the bottom half of the laptop and lifting it. “Hey, do you want a blanket?”

“Sure.”

Ellie’s other hand grabbed the edge of her comforter and held it up.

Hesitantly, you slid your legs under and watched as Ellie did the same, awkwardly holding the laptop in the air before you were both settled enough to rest it on your covered right thigh and her left. “Better?”

When you nodded, she reached her tattooed arm out and pressed play. The audio picked back up, but you couldn’t for the life of you focus on the movie.

When Ellie had asked if you’d wanted a blanket, you were expecting her to toss the throw blanket that would really only fit one person at you, not invite you to get under the blankets with her. That was significantly more intimate.

You two were sitting close enough that your sides were touching, from shoulder to thigh. You could feel her chest lift with each breath, feel the heat coming off of her.

After a while, Ellie properly laid down, taking the laptop and hoisting it up so it rested on her lower abdomen as she settled into her pillow.

You gulped, your eyes flickering between her face and the screen. Ellie’s gaze was fixed intently on the screen, her eyes half lidded with exhaustion.

You could be tired too. You weren’t, of course—your heart was racing a thousand miles an hour. But she didn’t know that. It was normal to lay down next to her, right? You’d done that with Irena more times than you could count, and it was never weird. Yeah, you could do that.

Also, if you were totally horizontal, you would stop getting distracted by the sliver of her skin that her crooked shirt showed of her chest.

In a moment of blind courage, you scooted down so your head was lying right next to Ellie’s. She didn’t seem to react, just extending her hand from under the covers to steady the laptop as it wobbled from the movement.

Her sheets smelled like the soap that you used to wash your hair—a cottony freshness that had the slightest hint of lavender.

“Are you going to fall asleep on me?” asked Ellie after a while, her voice nothing more than a whisper.

“I could ask you the same thing,” you responded, equally quiet. Then, because you hadn’t made enough rash decisions for the night, you angled your head so it rested in the space right above her shoulder.

She inhaled sharply but didn’t move. On her next exhale a piece of her auburn hair tickled your forehead.

“How’re your stitches?” she asked suddenly, like she'd just remembered.

“They’re okay. I think. As stitches go.”

“After this is over, I’ll check on them,” she said. “Don’t let me forget, okay?”

“Okay,” you whispered, suddenly feeling shy. It was one thing for her to cut off your shirt and see your skin when she was trying to save your life while you were mentally gone. It was another thing altogether to pull up your shirt without adrenaline coursing through you.

You didn’t pay any attention to the rest of the movie, instead hyperfocused on the rhythm of Ellie’s breathing and the fact that if you moved just a little your chin would be on her shoulder.

Her mention of the stitches wasn’t helping at all, either. Now all you could think about was the embarrassing way you’d basically tried to crawl under her skin, burying your face into her and clutching at her clothes like you were a child.

A part of you was disappointed that you hadn’t been more lucid at the time. If you had, you would’ve been able to clearly remember the softness of her skin against yours. You would’ve been able to enjoy it for what it was—the only time you’d be able to touch her like that.

Because you couldn’t go around just grabbing onto her shirt and getting into her lap. That was a one-off, the only time that the rules were waived. You couldn’t touch her like that now, now that you didn’t have any excuse. It wasn’t allowed.

But sometimes you wanted to so badly that it hurt.

The movie ended abruptly, wrenching you out of your thoughts.

“Hey,” whispered Ellie. “Sit up so I can see.”

Reluctantly, you pressed yourself up from your back and began rolling up the hem of your shirt. Ellie twisted to face backwards, her thin top riding up and showing part of her back as she reached for the lamp.

Once golden light returned to the room, Ellie turned back and bumped your hands away. She bent over, tilting her head so that she was looking at the stitches straight on.

They didn’t look bad, you had to admit. Though you wouldn’t consider the actual experience of getting the stitches a 5-star experience, Ellie had clearly known what she was doing. The surrounding flesh didn’t look angry or irritated, and she’d pulled the stitches just tight enough without it puckering.

She prodded at the side, then gave a satisfied nod. “Looks good. What did I tell you? I’m really good at this sort of stuff.”

“I think you would’ve made a really good doctor,” you said once she’d sat up straight again. “Under different circumstances.”

“Is this you telling me that you don’t think I’m a good doctor now?” she teased.

“Your bedside manner could use some work,” you offered.

Ellie laughed then, shaking her head and crossing her arms over her chest. “Yeah, yeah. You lived. You'll get over it.”

“Did you go to school?” you found yourself asking, hung up on the thought of Ellie as a potential medical student. If she’d been in one of your intro biology classes, you never would’ve been able to pay attention. That was a fantasy you could shelve away for later.

“Sort of,” said Ellie, looking down at her arms. “I went to a military prep school run by FEDRA. I didn’t graduate though—obviously. I was long gone by then.”

“Right,” you said, remembering that she’d mentioned that she’d been 14 when she’d left Boston. “And what was it like?”

She paused, opening her mouth before closing it. “It was—unkind. Joel's told me about schools before the outbreak. It was nothing like that. There were some normal classes, but most of it was meant to prepare us to be soldiers.”

“Is that where you learned how to do sutures?”

“Among other things.”

Terranova had no military academies, given that there was hardly any military presence. The founder of Terranova had bodyguards and there was a police force that controlled the borders, but it was nothing like Ellie described. With invisible borders and a social order that valued peace and tranquility over all else, there was no real danger posed to any of the citizens.

But from what you had learned from movies and books and comments from older people, you had gathered a very dim picture of what a military academy looked like—harsh, strict, and cruel.

“I’m sorry you had to grow up like that,” you said.

“It’s okay.”

“Is there anything you would want to study? If you could?”

Ellie’s eyes closed. “Yeah. There are a couple things.”

She did not elaborate.

It didn’t take long for you two to settle back into your routine of meeting in her room each evening and watching one of your downloaded movies. Following the night after you’d gotten your stitches, you wouldn’t even have to ask—Ellie would pull up her comforter and let you slide in next to her without giving you a second glance.

You’d also gotten over the fear of touching her. Now, when you flopped back so your head was on her pillow, you’d adjust until you were nestled into the crook of her neck. She never once reacted to it, remaining perfectly still unless she was adjusting the laptop or messing with the sound.

Because it was normal, of course. You and Irena would rest your head on each other’s shoulders sometimes. That was something that friends did.

One night a week or so into April, you and Ellie made a harrowing discovery: there was only one movie left in your collection that you two hadn’t seen together.

“Damn,” said Ellie, furrowing her brow. “And there’s no way to get more on here?”

“I’m afraid not,” you said, frowning. “To download more or stream one, I’d need either an Ethernet cable or a wi-fi connection. Neither of which function out here anymore without cell towers and maintained cables.”

“Right,” said Ellie, though her face told you that she didn’t understand a word that had come out of your mouth. “So—this is it?”

“Yeah.” Your finger hovered over the play button. “Savor it, I guess.”

When you settled back and into her side, the heavy weight of dread settled into your stomach. Now that you’d finished showing her your entire collection, it’s not like she’d have a reason to invite you over every night. And there was especially no reason for you two to lie so closely together unless you were both trying to watch something on a small screen.

Once again, your excuse to touch her was gone.

You pressed closer to her as your mind raced. There was no way that Ellie didn’t see what you were doing as platonic, right? Was it possible that she was creeped out by how touchy you were but just tolerated it to be nice?

Maybe. You swallowed hard, keeping your eyes fixed on the screen. Ellie didn’t see you like…like that. She spoke to you like you were an obligation, a burden. Because you always had been. You’d been a responsibility thrust on her by a father figure who felt like he was indebted to you from that stupid bag of coffee you were lucky enough to bring.

Oh, god. Had Joel told her to befriend you? Had he asked for Ellie to pretend like she enjoyed spending time with you and to put up with your privileged, soft-hearted nonsense?

The knowledge that you were spiraling wasn’t enough to stop you. You did the best that you could—tried to remind yourself that it’d been a while since she’d looked disgusted with you, recall that she was outspoken enough to tell you to fuck off if you did something she didn’t like—but it was to no avail.

Ellie reached forward and hit pause on the movie, thrusting you both into silence.

“Is everything okay?” she asked after a moment.

“Yeah, why?”

“I can feel your heart going, like, crazy fast.”

You froze. “Oh. Uh, yeah. I was just thinking.”

Ellie pushed the laptop off of her, sitting up to give you an odd look. “About a near death experience or something? You running a marathon up there? That shit’s not normal.”

You laughed nervously. “It’s really nothing. Just an, uh, suspenseful movie.”

Which was actually really stupid of you to say, because you were watching some obscure Tarkovsky film that did nothing but pan over burning buildings and pensive men. For the past 5 minutes, there had been nothing on screen but the back of a car driving through traffic with minimal sound. Also, it was in Russian, and the English subtitles made zero sense.

There was a reason why this was the last movie you chose.

“This is the most boring fucking movie I’ve ever watched in my life, so you’re a dirty fucking liar,” said Ellie. Then her face pinched in worry. “Wait. Have you taken a look at your stitches lately?”

Before you could answer, she was grabbing a flashlight off her nightstand and yanking the comforter off you. She was pulling your shirt up when you finally found your voice.

“Wait!” you said, grabbing the bottom of your shirt and yanking it back in place. “It’s not—I don’t have an infection, okay? There’s nothing wrong with me. I really was just thinking, okay?”

“About what?” She reached back to place her flashlight back on the stand without taking her eyes off you.

“It’s nothing important.”

“If you say so.”

She picked the laptop up and placed it back on her thighs, lying back down. You followed suit, but this time you didn’t touch her, opting to keep as much distance as you could so she wouldn’t hear the stuttering of your heart.

Not even 5 minutes had passed before Ellie sat up to pause the video again.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

“No. Why?”

“You’re acting weird,” she accused, but there wasn’t much conviction behind her voice.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that you’re acting weird,” she repeated, shutting your laptop off and moving it to the bottom of her bed, despite the protests that left your lips.

“I don’t understand,” you said. “I’m just watching the movie. I’m not doing anything. “

“You’re not watching the movie,” she said. “You weren’t even looking at the screen. What’s got you so bothered? Did I do something?”

“Of course not.” You pulled your legs under you so your legs were crossed and your back was against the wall. “You don’t need to worry. It’s honestly fine. I’m sorry if I’ve done something to imply otherwise.”

Ellie rubbed the bridge of her nose, sighing. “You stress me out. You can just tell me, you know? No need to be so cagey. I promise I’ve heard worse.”

“Don’t be so quick to say that.”

“Okay, now you have to tell me,” she said. “I’m never going to know peace again with a hook like that.”

You were about to open your mouth to tell her that it was stupid and that it didn’t matter, but something stopped you.

That was the coward’s way out. That’s what you’d always done—hid your feelings and concealed your emotions. That’s how you’d been raised. That’s how you thought everyone was. But now that you’d spent 2 months in Jackson, you’d realized that some people actually just said what they thought. And that, in the grand scheme of things, it was a better system than the Terranovian culture of superficiality.

Just because the you 2 months ago would have shook her head and changed the subject didn’t mean the you now had to.

Maybe this you could be different. Maybe, for once, this you could be brave.

“I really—” You stopped yourself. Saying I really like you didn’t even begin to encompass what you felt for the girl sitting across from you. To distill the sheer magnitude of your feelings down to four words felt criminal. The swell in your chest that never went away whenever you were near her could never and would never be adequately represented in the puny offerings of the Latin alphabet and the English language, and if you were going to do this, you were going to do it right.

You dared to look up at her for a moment. She was completely still, her green eyes reflecting the dim moonlight from outside. Once you met her gaze, you couldn’t bring yourself to pull it away.

“I’m really sorry that I’m putting you in an uncomfortable position for saying this,” you began (because old habits ran deep, and you would rather die than be impolite), “And I totally understand if you don’t want to talk to me after this. And I’m sorry for not telling you earlier.”

“As much as I’m sure that this is some sort of cultural cornerstone for you, please spare me the 6 foot long disclaimer script,” Ellie drawled.

“Right.” You gulped. “Anyway. As I was saying.”

“Any day now.”

At that moment, she had never looked more perfect. Your eyes had adjusted to the dark lighting, so the weak moonlight that spilled in from the window above her created a halo around her head.

“It’s you.” Your voice came out tiny. “You’re all that I can think about, and I don’t know what to do.”

There. It was off your chest.

For a moment, it was as if you’d suspended time, stopping Earth on its axis as you both held your breaths. There was nothing but silence and the occasional wooden creak of the old house’s foundation in the wind.

Ellie’s face betrayed nothing, save for something in her eyes and the disappearance of the smirk that had been on her lips moments before.

Then she spoke, her response whispered.

“Come here, then.”

final a/n: NOW HOLD ON before you show up outside my dorm with pitchforks and torches 🗣️🗣️🗣️ i'm so sorry but this was a necessary evil as this was going to a massive scene without the chapter break. also a disproportionately massive chapter compared to the other ones coming out. i write very quickly and should get the following part out in a timeframe similar to the first 3 parts. thank u for reading ! tell me what you think abt this chapter while you wait x

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams self insert #ellie williams x oc #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams imagine

1K notes · View notes

shdo-xplosion · 11 months

Text

PART TWO: CLINICAL

☼masterlist☼

01 <-☼-> 03

warnings: 2.4k; captivity, telepathy, restraints, non-con, forced orgasm, fingering, squirting, toys? (more like tools), speculum, ben-wa balls (sort of), insertion, medical play? in the name of research, we call bakugou ‘kat’ for now! (this chapter is hard to tag)

notes: hahahaha um hi. this is gross. and it’s only going to get worse, so prepare yourselves. (˵ᵕ̴᷄ ˶̫ ˶ᵕ̴᷅˵)

tags: @ssplague @makepastanotwar13 @kaidabakugou @kiarathace @kllrkitty @itachiwho @siempre-entre-dos-opciones-blog

let me know if you would (or would not) like to be tagged, but you must have your age somewhere visible on your blog!

You recognize the blond alien immediately. It paces into the room without giving you so much as a glance, just walks straight to the control panel behind you that you’ve yet to get a glimpse of.

“What are you doing?” you ask now that you know they can all understand you. When it still doesn’t acknowledge you, you try again. “Hey!”

This time, with your neck craned uncomfortably, you’re met with an intimidating scarlet gaze.

What?

Your eyebrows raise at the sound of his voice. His mouth didn’t move at all which leads you to believe… “You’re telepathic.” Something that scientists on earth have just barely begun to figure out.

The alien grunts and nods.

Does that mean you can hear me too? you think and are met with another throaty noise of confirmation.

For a few seconds, you’re in awe, fascinated by how advanced they are. Then the implication sets in, and you shut your eyes.

So, you’ll always know what I’m thinking then.

Yes.

Just another leg up that these terrifying creatures have over you and your crew mates. There’s no way out of this. Any plan you may come up with, any plot to escape, they’ll know from the beginning.

Closing your eyes, you look back to the high ceiling as the alien fiddles with the panel. All you hear are little clicks, but then the table beneath you begins to move, the extensions that your legs are bound to spreading apart. On your chest, the tiny massage balls become firmer as they roll over your tits, and when you begin to squirm the straps around your wrists pull tighter.

Fuck. Fuck fuck. What is about to happen to you? What is—

Relax. I’m only here to do research.

“What kind of research?” you ask frantically, your voice too loud as it rings through the room.

I have to see what your body is capable of.

My… ?

Your cunt, it says explicitly, sending shivers down your spine.

You’re so used to tears flooding your waterline that you barely even notice it now.

You whisper between heavy breaths, “are… am I going to…”

This isn’t the impregnation phase, no.

Phase. So there’s a phase. The fact that this is not it brings you minimal relief as the promise of it still hangs over your head.

The creature walks around to the end of the table and waves a tray of some sort over. Telepathy and telekinesis? Or is it something else?

It sits down on a chair you had no idea was even there, then lifts the thin covering off of your legs so that you’re exposed to it.

Wait, wait, you stall, trying to give yourself just a little more time to get mentally prepared. What’s your name?

You wouldn’t be able to say it.

Try me, you insist, chest heaving as you panic.

As expected, the alien makes a noise void of any softness. Ktsk, like someone being strangled.

Okay, you chew on your lip as you think of what to call it. Kat. Kat works. Less like a choke, more like a scream.

Fine.

You feel hands on your knees, travel higher and higher, and again, you stop him. “Hold on!”

He actually sighs in what sounds like exasperation. What?

Are you male or female?

There’s more than just male and female here, he corrects, which makes sense. I am male, though.

You can stop calling him ‘it’ now. It doesn’t humanize him since he isn’t human at all, but it somehow makes him slightly less of a monster, a beast that lives in your closet rather than under your bed.

Without any more questions—any that can be answered anyway—you lay your head back and inhale deeply. There’s nothing you can do to stop him from touching you, so you need to do your best to make peace with it.

He doesn’t trace patterns up your thighs or waste time with gentle touches, just leans between your legs for a closer look. You wince when you feel fingers spread your lips, not because it hurts but because it’s cold.

Body tensing, your hole clenches in front of him, prompting Kat to run the tip of his finger over it. It feels curious, as if he truly has no idea what he’s looking at. Do the female aliens not have anatomy like you?

Kat prods around in a way that would be amusing in any other situation, but no giggles escape you, only shallow breaths.

When he tries to push past your entrance you let out a high-pitched sound of discomfort, ow ow ow, and it makes Kat stop immediately.

What is it?

You can’t just… push something in there dry, you explain. You need some kind of lubricant otherwise it hurts. You’re teaching him for your benefit, keep him from tearing anything.

He switches gears, hesitant and possibly confused. If he’s anything like earth men, he’s too embarrassed to ask for any extra information on the matter.

Feather light touches dance around your hole now, spreading your folds apart again. The first nudge of your clit makes your body jolt in shock, almost impressed that he found it so quickly. You think you can feel him staring at your face, but you refuse to look at him. Your thoughts are already giving too much away.

A pleasure point?

Yeah. No reason to deny it.

Kat touches the bundle of nerves again, like a button at first, but when all it does is make you scrunch up your nose, he begins to flick it instead. Back and forth, back and forth. You feel it begin to swell, becoming more firm, more obvious, the longer he toys with it.

A different kind of pulse between your legs proves that his actions are affecting you, a subtle throb deep in your pussy that makes slick coat your walls.

Lubricant? he thinks.

You hate yourself as you nod. It’s a biological response, your voice of reason reminds you. You don’t like it, but this is natural.

Kat doesn’t say anything else, just dips a fingertip into your hole to gather your arousal, dragging wetness over your folds and slicking your clit with it. His touches become smoother, which makes it feel better, which makes you hate yourself even more. This is sick. Even with your logic you can’t help but believe something is wrong with you if your body is enjoying this.

He is an alien. An alien who almost killed you. Who put a parasite inside of your captain and plans to do the same to you.

I didn’t do anything to your captain, you hear, and you’re about to argue, but before you can think of a comeback, Kat slides a thick finger into your pussy. He presses in slowly, but it only gets deeper and deeper. You hadn’t actually realized how big his hands were.

You can’t place the noise he makes, but you think it might sound… satisfied?

He twists his hand a bit, wiggling the digits inside of you. You understand what he meant by research now. It all seems so clinical. You sort of expect him to pull out a notebook.

Without asking, Kat begins to move, pushing his finger in and out of your body. You bite your lip hard and squeeze your eyes shut. The bindings on you feel so much tighter all of a sudden. You can’t close your legs at all, can’t use your hands to hide yourself. All you can do is let him touch you.

As he fingers you, he brings his other hand up to touch your clit again.

Fuck.

Is that good or bad?

You don’t want to tell him. Don’t want him to know that it does, in fact, feel good. But you can’t deny it. He can hear your thoughts. Even though you don’t confirm it, he knows.

Faster. In and out, the pad of a finger rubbing over your clit. He pushes another inside of you, your hole stretching at the intrusion. A slight burn accompanies it, but at the first downward twitch of your mouth, Kat speeds up on your clit.

The tip of one of his fingers is dragging over your g-spot, and it feels wonderful. Makes a certain pressure build in your pelvis, in your bladder, and as more hot tears fill your eyes, even hotter squirt begins to dribble down your folds.

If Kat is confused by it, he doesn��t make a show of it, just continues the same motions as your legs start to shake. You wonder if he’ll understand the concept of overstimulation. What will happen if he doesn’t?

Helpless, you remember. You’re helpless.

The third finger makes you groan out loud, back arching, and the movement brings to attention the device locked into your chest. Your tits are tender now, nipples hard enough to peek through the see-through tubing. You’re embarrassed at how your body is reacting to him. You can’t remember the last time you were this wet, the last time slick dripped from your cunt in thick strings.

What is he thinking? Has he ever seen something like this before?

No. Your body is different from our females.

How?

He removes his fingers and you swear you almost whimper at the loss.

Smaller. Tighter, he says, and then, softer.

You blink up at the ceiling, not sure how to respond. If humans are smaller, surely you can’t tolerate being pregnant. Probably can’t even tolerate taking one of these alien cocks. It’s a vulgar thought, but it’s still there, and it’s still troubling.

Is that all? Are you finished? you ask. You don’t even care that you haven’t actually cum.

You see the strange, blond spikes of his hair move when he looks up your body to lock eyes.

No. I still some more tests.

A test that involves some kind of speculum, stretching you open open open until you’re breathing through your teeth. He uses something to swipe at your gummy walls, reminds you of getting swabbed at your old physician’s office, only you doubt Kat is screening for cancer or STDs.

Then, still stretched to your limit, he begins touching your clit again. All of your muscles tense, but you can’t actually clench like you’re used to, the tool wedged inside of you preventing any type of contraction despite your body’s want to do just that.

And something about that, that feeling of being pulled so thin, wide open and vulnerable, it makes your eyes roll back. Kat is swiping multiple fingers over your swollen clit, drops of squirt streaming down the tool, the curve of your ass, and the table beneath you. Your spine curves as much as the restraints allow it too, and with a shuddering breath, you hit your climax.

Oh my god, my god, fuck fuck fuck. Normally your cunt would pulse and spasm with every wave of your orgasm, but it can’t, your body trying to force the barrier out of you without success.

When it finally stops, after it feels like it never will, you tremble and gasp and try to ignore the way your vision is dancing with little white dots.

“Okay, that’s… that’s it, right? You got what you wanted?”

Kat slowly slides the speculum from you and places it on the tray next to him, not looking at you as he answers, no.

He examines you again, no tools, just his red eyes and thick fingers. Your pussy is swollen with blood flow, coated with enough slick to dull some sensation, but every tap to your clit makes you whine. This time when he makes you cum, he’s able to see the way your cunt clenches, hole tightening then loosening.

He holds you open, swirling the tip of his finger around your sloppy entrance so that you squirm.

Final test, he thinks, moving to retrieve something else. When he holds three shiny spheres in your line of vision, you shake your head. They have to be two inches in diameter. There’s no way…

I just need to see how much you can handle, he tells you as if that answers all your questions.

Resituating himself between your legs, Kat presses one of the balls against you, slicking it up with your juices before lining it up with your entrance and slowly pushing it inside of you.

The stretch actually isn’t bad, not after so much prep. Your muscles are spent and relaxed, covered in viscous arousal.

Using his fingers, Kat pushes the ball as far as he can, hitting the wall of your cervix so that you jerk and cough.

There’s one.

The second is much the same, your pussy greedily sucking in whatever it’s given. With two inside, you feel the weight, how they crowd your insides. Three will be too many. You know that for sure.

But Kat still tries, slipping the last smooth ball inside of you, making the others shift where they’ve settled in your guts. As soon as he moves his finger, that final ball slips right back out, the sensation disturbingly pleasurable.

Kat grunts in disapproval and pushes it back in, trying to get it in a little farther this time.

It’s not gonna… they’re too big.

You hear a little huff when the ball breeches your hole again, rolling onto the table.

Fine. We’ll just try again soon.

Nothing’s gonna change, you tell him. It’s not like my vagina is just gonna grow another couple sizes.

Kat stands up and looks at you, eyebrow cocked, one side of his mouth just barely pulled up.

Don’t worry. I’m sure I can figure out some ways to stretch you out better.

He disposes of his tools then gives the straps around your wrists a little slack. As he starts toward the door you call out loud, “wait! Aren’t you gonna get these things out of me?”

Kat turns then slowly paces over to you. Your eyes go wide when he leans down close enough for you to feel chilled breath on your face.

No. He puts a thumb on your chin, pulling down until your bottom lip reveals your teeth. You watch as his split tongue darts out of his mouth, quick as a flash as he catches one of your tears on it. I wanna see if you can do it by yourself.

But…

I told you already. I need to see what this cunt can do.

Needs to see how much you can take, if you’re strong enough to birth his race.

You already know that you’re not.

2023©️shdo-xplosion. please do not plagiarize or repost my work to any other platforms.

#bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou smut #bnha x reader #mha x reader #tw dark content #tw noncon

514 notes · View notes

sillygoosealert · 9 days

Note

hiii🌚🌚 you should totally make a little thing where we’re running from danny during a trial and get stuck in a window while trying to vault and yk.. he fucks us from behind and it’s like a “help me step bro i’m stuck🥺” kinda position yk HEHEHE 😈😈😈

Sorry i fell off the face of the earth for a few days i had to like idk reset myself ☆(≧∀≦*)ﾉ

Never say step bro I'm stuck again I'm not even joking I'll block you, Stinky

Danny Johnson NSFW, raw, has no aftercare, and a little plot but mainly smut, he’s MEAN (cannon bc because he murders people), um actually he's also COCKY (cannon bc he kills people), and he calls you piggy ( cannon because he likes horror and that is a black Christmas reference) knife stuff

Fog whisps around you as you are forced into another trial. Another day another round. Is it day, or is it night? You may never find the answer.

The entity is cruel in your clothing, a skirt to your mid-thigh, and a button down. Nothing to keep in the warmth. Nothing to hide you from the reality that is the cold red forest.

You think your teammates must all be together- not including you, because a generator is done at lightning speed. Then you hear guttural screams, plural, also at lightning speed. Maybe you shouldn't get them, you'll too just die. Survival of the fittest. They won't remember the trial if you let them die, it's like they have a reset- or something.

You're crouching, lurking, and waiting. Not for long, as The Ghostface jumps out at you.

‘Boo’

He's snickering and taunting you. Mocking the screams of your now-fallen teammates.

A jungle gym is in sight, if you abuse the window and stun him, perhaps the hatch could be located. Maybe you're too tubby, or maybe because the entity is against you, but the window gets blocked from the top halfway through. You do not make it, you are stuck.

He’s snorting and making animal noises behind you.

‘What’s the entity feeding you that you can’t get through the windows?’

‘Oh, it’s blocked.’

He grabs your thighs and tries to pull you out. However, his pullout game must be weak as you do not budge.

He keeps his hands on your thighs as he whistles.

‘Can you not get out?’

‘No?’

‘Does this happen a lot?’

‘First time actually’

You're shivering, it's too much. He's too casual about it.

‘I could cut you in half and play magician, that would be rather amusing ’

‘Please don't’

‘Do you have something else in mind, piggy?’

Nothing. Actually, you're crying a little, but you don't say anything.

He starts to coo and awe at your noises, rubbing and kneading your ass.

He goes around to your other side and pulls out his camera. You’re a mess. Wiping away tears from your cheeks and eyes.

‘That's it. Perfect. That's the picture I'll keep of you.’

He’s taking a couple photo’s. More than needed. Maybe he likes it when you cry, the glossy kind of look.

‘Just me and you babe, whatever will we do?’

He snaps the band on your panties. You just realize nothing is left to his imagination from where he is now standing again.

‘Are you scared?’

‘A little’

There isn't any reason to tell the truth or lie to him. But you think he likes it when you're scared, something kinky.

The cold plastic of his mask is pressed into your ass. He's sniffing you..?

You can feel the squeeze of his hands on your thighs, groaning into them.

He takes off the mask, not that you can him. But the feel of his warm tongue is enough to assume he took it off.

But that's not the only thing to come off, as he slips off your panties as well.

Spreading open your folds, you can hear the shudder of the camera as he takes pictures of your pussy.

You know it's wet, it was dripping on your underwear. What lewd photos he now will have. Blackmail material?

He begins sucking on your clit, shoving his face into you.

Messy, unplanned, and purely out of want.

That's not how Danny usually went. Besides all the times he did things out of rage, like the laser tag incident..

After he's mixed his spit into your cunt, he's ready.

Pulling up his cloak and pulling down his pants, he stares at you.

You're pretty. And you have a nice ass.

Maybe you would make a good girlfriend, maybe.

But he just wants to fuck you right now, really hard

He pumps himself before sliding in.

He's thick, but also kinda lean?

You're shaking again, this is much too abrupt for you

Pinching your leg, he pulls out his blade.

‘A little blood never hurt anyone, right?’

He starts to cut into your thigh. His thrust growing more erotic

Putting the knife away, he smacks the place he just sliced up

Yelping, you start to cry, again.

‘I like that- you crying. Sob for me’

‘You're doing good, do you like merely laying there as you get violated? This could happen to anyone, whore or not. Does that scare you?’

A rhetorical question, he just wants you to cry while he scratches your bleeding leg.

He starts to rub your clit, whipping his knife out again.

‘Where do you want me to put my signature?’

‘It hurts- stop, please..’

Caving GF into your back is a blur to both of you, as he is still occasionally slapping your body around while thrusting considerably too hard

He pulls out and cums all over your wounds, covering them slightly in semen.

‘People would be shaking if they saw this. Are you shaking because of me?’

You didn't even realize you weren't stuck anymore. Only after you fell backward you realized.

‘I'm going to let you go back. But I want you to tell them what I did to you- scare them. Let them know they are not safe from me.’

‘Okay, I promise, I'll tell them’

He picks you up and walks around with you clinging to him.

When you are near the hatch, he puts you down.

‘A picture- for you, to keep’

He's sitting with you on the ground, keeping you in his lap. Putting his face right next to yours- actually, you don't remember when he put the mask back on. You didn't get to see his face.

The light hurts, but he gives you a little polaroid with the two of you face to face, cheek to cheek.

It would be cute if he didn't just cut up your legs

Tucking the photo into your bra, he drops you into the hatch. How kind of him.

He waves goodbye, you do not wave back.

It wasn't bad, it was just a lot. Rushed? Scary? Harmful?

Kinda hot, but you really hope he doesn't keep those photos. For blackmail reasons..

🎀

#dead by daylight #dbd ghostface #ghostface x reader #ghostface #dbd killer #dbd #dbd x reader #dbd x you #dead by deadlight #dead by daylight x reader #dead by daylight x you #dbd ghostface x reader #daisy writes #danny jed olsen johnson #danny johnson #danny johnson x reader #danny johnson x you #jed olsen

81 notes · View notes

satoruslovergirl · 5 days

Text

“ SO, DO YOU STILL PLAN ON LEAVING ? ”

|| FEATURING : gojo s. afab!reader

|| SYNOPSIS : you thought you could leave gojo after a hook up…you thought wrong.

|| TAGS : Fem bodied reader, implied breakup sex, very light body worship, cunnilingus , vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, creampie,

|| A/N : First post !! Please just kind and give me feedback if you can 💕💕.

“ You don’t know how long i’ve been wanting to do that..” satoru whispered into your ear. the cold air from his mouth made you shiver, causing you to begin to slightly squirm under him. your nude body’s created a certain warmth as they rub against eachother—one you hope to never ever feel again.

You find yourself coming to a realization; it finally clicked in your mind. You had just slept with your best friend..shit..this was bad, really bad. Especially during a breakup—everyone makes bad decisions during breakups…

You attempt to slowly push him off of you and flee for the nearest exit—well door; you are in his apartment after all.

“Y’going somewhere.?” his voice made you freeze. For a few moments, the only thing covering up the awkward silence was the blasting air conditioning.

What to say—What to say.. Does this make him think you didnt like it, because that would be a total lie. How on earth do you find a good excuse to get the hell out of here..?

“ I-um..I really enjoyed this, but I should leave. I have a busy schedule. ” You break the silence; this isn’t too harsh, is it?

“ You try’n to leave me already; forget all of this happened? ” satoru gasps and chuckled deeply. You could tell by the tone of his voice that he had taken some offense to your comment, but he was trying to cover it up.

He isn’t taking this seriously—well of course he wont; the thought of the two words together were idiotic. Satoru. Serious. He’s never serious..

You quickly get fed up with his nonsense. “ Listen, this was a mistake. I was horny and you were the first person i saw— ”

“ Sure didn’t seem like a m’stake when you were cumming all over me; or have you forgotten that already? ” Satoru swiftly responded, not a hint of embarrassment. To be honest it sounded more like…annoyance.

You roll your eyes and begin to twist and turn under him. “ Let me go— I have things to do! ” you strain out. You cant help but to giggle slightly; the feeling of his soft fingers grabbing onto the plushy flesh of your thighs and waist gave off a tickling sensation. After a while you got fed up with feeling and yelled out —“ Fine! ”

“ If i stay here for a few more hours, will you let me leave and forget this ever happened ? ”

Satoru, being himself, agreed immediately. His fingers trail up and down your skin ; it’s almost like he was trying to get under your skin, literally.

You close your eyes for a few minutes, trying to zone out everything that has happened until you felt…it..

Toru had always been a risky person; for instance, that time he made out with a girl in the locker room…when everyone was in there. But he was always cautious near you. Following your demands, getting you gifts, taking care of you in general; those where the reasons you became friends with him. But the thing he was doing right now was not a thing the friends do.

He trailed his fingers between your legs and stops around your clit. He pressed down on it so hard, it felt like electricity. It stung, it hurt even, but it also felt—soo good.

“ M-mhm ” you whimper . You want to get up and leave, to save yourself the embarrassment, but you couldn’t. It felt too good. You were frozen..

“ Round two ..? ” he whispered.

You want to say no, to leave and act like none of this happened. But you just cant. Satoru has always intrigued you, to be honest, this was a dream come true disguised as a mistake.

“ Yes…i want it, please.” you mumbled into his shoulder; it felt as if you were trying to stop yourself from saying it, but you want it too bad.

He removed his hand and slowly got on top of you. He stares at you in admiration before leaning in

He brings you into a soft kiss; well it started out as soft, and he got rougher and rougher. You pull away for a few seconds to try and catch your breath.

“ Why did you stop? ” he says with a shaky breath; his piercing blue eyes drill holes into your body.

“ I-..need air. ” you say; your heart racing with desperation.

“ I’ll give you air— ” he cuts himself off as he brings you back into a kiss. His tongue skillfully jammed down your throat.

Regardless of the fact you continued to kiss him back, your tongue is always a beat behind him; But you just cant get enough…

After several long seconds of kissing, he stop. He stared at you like a beast who had just caught its prey. Slowly, he trailed down your body, all the way to your breasts. He pinches your hard nipples, causing you to let out a sharp squeal.

“ Toru! are you trying to kill me!? ”

He playfully rolls his eye — as sassy as ever. “ Yeah..kill you with orgasms.” He quickly began to suck them, staring at you the whole time.

“ S-satoru ” you whimpered out; the sensation started to make you moan uncontrollably.

He pulled your legs apart and nests himself between them. “wish i could live in this sweet cunt” he licks away at your core; each lick making the inside of your thighs stickier, lewder, and makes wet squelching sounds echo through satoru’s penthouse-like apartment. It doesn’t take too long before your a squirming, writhing mess on his white silk bed.

“ P-please ” you manage to whisper out through your quickly developing climax; tears build up in your eyes, threatening to roll down your face.

Coming out from between your legs, satoru stops staring at you and starts to stare at your pussy. He looked like he wanted to devour you.

“ You taste like heaven.. ”

His fingers slowly slip into your pussy, teasing and spreading your sensitive walls, looking in awe at the way they pulsed around him.

Your body pulled his fingers in, guiding his fingertips to that sweet spot that you so desperately wanted to feel him rub against.

“Oh my god . . . shit, that feels amazing,” you breathe out; your eyes begin to roll due to the overstimulating pleasure.

You begin to tremble with anticipation..Right there—that spot he’s hitting… Just as you were about to reach your climax—he stopped.

Before you could comprehend anything, he flipped you over. Your head was now pushes into a pillow and your ass was in the air.

Satoru slowly became to ease his cock into you. “Fuck..You’re so tight..” He gasped out and flung his head back. “You good?” He checks up on you to make sure everything is fine.

You nod, giving him reassurance and telling him he could start,

He began to slowly fuck you. His soft fingertips trailed down your ribcage and grab onto your hips. He gradually starts to speed up. Soon enough, his movements were relentless; each thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

The intensity of his touch, the way he held you so close, made you feel completely consumed by him. The sounds of your moans mingled with his own groans of pleasure, creating a symphony of desire that filled the room.

“M-mmh—yeah..keep sucking me in, just like that..”

“ Toru-u..shit— ”

Satoru's hands roamed over your body, exploring every inch of your skin as he continued to move inside you with a rhythm that was both primal and intoxicating.

The feeling of his weight pressing down on you, the heat of his body against yours, only added to the overwhelming sensation of pleasure that threatened to consume you.

As he quickened his pace, the tension in your body built to a fever pitch, each thrust pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Toru—cum..Im about to cum!” you yell out as your climax builds up once again. Your eyes fall to the back of your head again and you grip onto a pillow, in hopes of making your orgasm less intense.

Satoru was hitting all the right spots; the spot that not even your ex could hit.

Finally both of you scream out in ecstasy as you came. “Shit!—” your legs give in and you fully fall into the bed. Satoru rolled over and laid next to you. His chest was now sticky with sweat and weaving up and down. He was quite literally breathless.

And as you lay there, exhausted and sated, you couldn't help but feel happy. Satoru just did something your ex could never do. You started to fall asleep, that orgasm made it almost impossible to stay awake. But before you can fully fall asleep you feel a light slap on your arm.

You look up and see Satoru hovering over you.

“So..Do you still play on leaving?” he teased.

You almost forgot how much of a tease he was..But he was your tease.

#jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #jjk x reader #jjk smut #pls follow me #first post #shadowban test

92 notes · View notes

sparklingsin · 2 years

Text

— five ways to say i love you | steve harrington

+ steve harrington x fem!reader

tags: fluff, banter, steve being steve, some angst, some gore - like in the show, s4 canon adjacent

a/n: no summary since this is pretty self-explanatory. hope you have a good read! feedback is appreciated!

one.

The Wheeler basement is warm, separated from the world, the Upside-Down, the lab. Shielded from trouble. A distraction from whatever danger lies ahead. The kids are sitting around a table with Eddie, who is making a face at them — they're engrossed in what seems to be quite a stressful game of DnD. You don't try to pretend that you understand it.

Nancy is half-asleep on Robin's shoulder who is reading the latest "Teen Beat". Beside you, Steve's busy shooting daggers at the kids table, one of his arms curled behind you on the couch. Not quite touching you, but close enough that you remember it's there once every few minutes.

"Do you want to kill your only best friend?" you ask and Steve pries his eyes away from the group to look at you, eyebrows still furrowed.

"Wha— look, it's just that the kid barely tells me anything anymore, okay? I'm just a little — "

"Jealous?" you interrupt.

"— worried," Steve finishes, mouth twisting into a frown at your words.

You pout at him. "Aww, that's sweet. Mama's worried."

Steve shoots you a look. "Tease all you want, but if something happens to that little shit, it's on me, you know?"

"Aw, I'm sure Dustin loves you too."

Steve gives you another stink eye, then turns back to the kids. You try your best to suppress the smile that tugs at the corners of your lips.

A beat passes before Steve quips again, absentmindedly picking at some loose threads on the arm of the sofa, still gazing at the kids.

"I mean, I worry about the other kids too. About all of us. Robin, Nance. You."

You try to ignore the warmth that mushrooms across your chest.

"Should I be scared that you're worried about me, Harrington?"

He looks back at you. There's a twinkle in his eyes, that flares up that new found feeling in your stomach. You don't want to acknowledge it but it begs for your attention.

"Maybe."

two.

Steve walks eight paces under your window before deciding that he's going to do it. He finds a small pebble in the yard and tosses it at the window, praying to anyone who's up there listening, that you're awake.

Much to his relief, you open the window a minute later and peer down at him in the darkness. You seem to stare at him for a moment— understandably so, given the ungodly hour— and then gesture for him to come up.

Two tries later, Steve is tumbling through the window and into your room.

"Shhhh," you mutter to him in the dark, and he freezes, stilling himself beside your desk.

"What are you doing here?" you ask, voice an octave lower than usual and Steve realises with a start that you had been sleeping after all. If your slightly puffy eyes and pink pajamas are any indication.

"You look like hell," you add, looking him up and down. He hadn't changed from his slacks and white t-shirt and his hair was probably rough from all the tossing and turning. Thankfully though, you don't seem mad. Only confused.

"Right, um," he begins and then shuts up. Now that he's here, he realises how terribly pathetic it is for him to be doing this. How cowardly, how very unmanly.

"Steve?" you ask, reaching out to grab his shoulder. You're so warm, he almost sighs out loud.

"Shit. Yeah. Hi. So, I did come here," he says, but stops again. Because how can he say what he wants to say? How do you tell someone that your house it too big, too empty? That the halls go on forever without a soul in sight? That he lies awake at night, wondering what he would do if he found himself all alone in the world much like he is in his house?

"Earth to Steve," you call again, and now there is concern seeping into your eyes but Steve really, really doesn't know what to say. He simply looks back at you, something cold unfurling in his chest.

"Uh, can I sleep here?" is all he can muster. He braces himself for your reaction, for you to call this weird and refuse but you only tilt your head ever so slightly.

"Of course," is all you say too. There's some recognition in your eyes that leaves him feeling bare but he is grateful that you don't say anything else. He watches you plop into bed and pull one pillow to the corner that is by the wall and fluff it up.

"Okay," he says glancing around your room, "Just give me a pillow, a blanket and I'm good to go."

You stop in your journey of trying to find one edge of the blanket and look up at him, eyebrows knitted.

"Good to go where?"

"Sleep on the floor I mean."

You look at him like he has grown two heads and then pat the space on the bed beside you.

"Don't be stupid. Sleep beside me, there's plenty of room."

three.

"Find it?" Steve calls from beside the bed just as you spot the locket under a couple of envelopes in your drawer. It a pretty large thing— you're not sure how you had missed it the first time. You open the locket to reveal a set of pictures. One of Max, when she was about nine, and other, of your mother.

"Yeah," you answer, putting your arms around and behind your neck to try and clasp the chain together. The darned thing is too small unfortunately and your arms grow sore before you know it.

"Jesus. Here," Steve mutters, having spotted your struggle from where he had been trying to find the necklace under your bed. Without waiting for your response, he gently plucks the delicate chain from your fingers and moves behind you.

The chain clasps together with a satisfying click. As he lets go of it, the tips of his fingers brush ever so gently against your spine and you watch him in the mirror as his eyes move from your neckline to your face.

"All done," he whispers, breath warm on your neck. You can feel his silhouette behind you — those broad shoulders and arms that you don't want to imagine being held by.

But you do anyway.

"Thanks for doing this with me," you whisper, without taking your eyes off of him in the reflection of the mirror. He doesn't look away and your heart skips two beats.

Your fingers fidget with the locket.

"I'm just worried about Max," you say and then bite your tongue, surprised by your own admission. Something in his eyes— it catches in your chest and coaxes your concerns out of you.

"Hey, hey," he says softly, turning you around to face him, his hand slipping into yours. The touch sends a spark up your arm, but it warms you.

All this while, you had been trying to put on a brave face for your sister. But standing in your house, being faced with memories you only think of on the coldest nights— the reality impales you with a terrifying finality. A tear escapes the corner of your eye.

You don't want to see the ruth in Steve's face as he tilts your head towards him with a soft Hey. His eyes are round but far from pitiful.

"She's going to be okay. We're going to make sure that she's alright."

four.

Steve's throat is closing up. A demobat's tail wrapped firmly around his neck restricts all airflow as a swarm of its siblings sink their fangs into his sides. Metal coats his mouth, the agonizing pain sending a shockwave though his body. He can't even scream; the sound builds and dies in his throat. The incessant attacks provide him a surge of adrenaline to thrash at the bat's tail, but in vain. Its grip is too tight. He can already feel the energy start to drain out of his arms as his brain begins to shut down.

If it has to end this way, Steve thinks, he wants to see you before it does. The Upside-Down starts to dim before his eyes as he tries to picture your smile. Radiant, warm. Everything this hell-hole isn't.

Then suddenly, the demobats are screeching around him and his sides are not being torn apart anymore.

Steve's eyes shoot open, to find you looming above him — cheeks streaked with tears and grime, fending off the incoming swarm of bats with a boat paddle. Your presence seems to give him a bolster. He tightens his grip on the bat's tail and bites off a chunk. The wretched creature screeches, instantly loosening its grip on his neck and the oxygen rushes into his throat — almost choking him, but it is a welcome pain. Feeling returns to his fingertips in the form of a faint buzzing.

Standing up and swaying slightly, he swings the creature around by it's tail, slamming it to the ground with a final thud before using his foot to rip it in half. The blood streaks across his slacks but he is too tired to care.

Three things register in his head. One) You are here, in the Upside-Down. So are Robin, Nancy and Eddie. Two) He is alive. Three) You're throwing yourself at him and he immediately wraps his arms around you, shaking. You are trembling too, and a sob bubbles up from your throat.

"What—" he pants into your hair, "What are you doing here?"

You pull back and reach for his face, cupping his cheek. It is too dark to be entirely sure but save for a couple of scratches you seem mostly unharmed. Your eyes are swimming with tears and he desperately wants to comfort you but his on hand is shaking so badly, he is glad you're there to steady him.

"You didn't come up for 3 minutes," you run your thumb across his cheekbone.

"How could I just leave you?"

five.

"You okay in there?" Steve's voice jolts you from your thoughts.

Nancy and Robin trudge several feet ahead of you, Robin's flashlight swinging wildly as she talks animatedly. You look up at Steve, and try to gauge if you should lie or tell the truth.

"I'm just thinking about what pizza I'm getting after we torch this asshole," you quip after a moment and Steve laughs. A good laugh— the kind that travels up your chest and warms your being.

"I'm assuming it's classic margherita?" He asks, slowing down to keep up pace with you. He swings his torch around, keeping an eye out for any movement.

You scoff. "What do you take me for, Harrington? I have taste, alright?"

He laughs again and it is a truly wonderful sound. "Alright, alright. Then what is it?"

"Well, we'll find out if we all make it out alive, eh?" You regret the words as soon as you say them. A silence falls between you again, cold and clammy, much like the surrounding air or lack there of.

A moment passes before Steve nudges his shoulder into yours. "The first thing I wanna do if I make it out alive is talk to this girl."

You turn to look at him, puzzled, but he's looking at the ground, gaze trained on the light thrown by his torch in front of him.

"Tell her how I feel."

You feel your heartbeat rise just ever so slightly just as a branch snaps under Steve's foot. He kicks it aside and steps over a vine.

"She works at Family Video with Robin and I. I only met her a few months ago, but I feel like I've known her forever, you know? She gets me, and I know I am a little stupid about somethings but I get her. She is the only thing that makes complete sense to me. She's so smart, so brave, so beautiful and she— she makes me laugh. She makes me laugh so much."

Steve jumps over a wide log, and you feel like your heart has grown wings and fluttered it's way out of it's cage.

Every word of his feels like it's filling you with air, lifting you gently off the ground. It feels too much, like you're dreaming and might wake up anytime soon, crying about losing something so perfect.

"Steve," you manage, but your voice is weak and croaky. If Steve hears you, he doesn't look at you.

"We've been through so much together, in such less time and I don't think I could have made it this far if it wasn't for her. I don't.. I don't want to share this with anybody else. If I don't make it out alive... my only regret would be not telling her this. And telling her that—" he pauses in his tracks and finally turns to look at you. The expression on his face knocks the wind out of you. Nobody has ever looked at you this way.

"That.. I love you," he says, voice soft as silk and all you can do is close the space between you two to pull him in for a kiss.

You didn’t think, not for a second, not when you had first realised you liked him, that Steve Harrington would return your feelings that you kept so well-guarded. You imagined that friendship was as far as it would go, and tried your best to be indifferent to the growing feelings in your heart.

But the truth was, Steve got you like nobody did. Saw you like nobody else did.

When Steve pulls back, his eyes are shining with something so fierce, you think you might burn under his gaze.

"I love you too," you whisper against his lips and he sighs as if a humongous weight has been lifted off of him. You kiss him once more, then twice and rest your forehead against his. The smile on his face fills you with a newfound courage to face the impending doom.

"We're making it out alive, you and I."

#i think i like this?#stranger things #steve harrington x fem!reader #stever harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #steve harrington smut #mywriting

2K notes · View notes

kaylinelizabeth4004 · 8 months

Text

Between Two Lungs/Heaven is Here Pt 2

SYNOPSIS: Y/N tries to process the idea of eternity and reincarnation. Aziraphale begins to identify his feelings for both Crowley and Y/N. Crowley is pining and moody

WORD COUNT: 7k

TAGS: Aziraphale x Reader x Crowley, Aziraphale x Reader, Aziraphale x Crowley, fluff, soulmates, pining, kind of confession, so much fluff, emotional hurt/comfort, pov third person, fluff and angst

A/N: i didn’t mean for this to be as long as it is, and I mean the story itself. But there will be a part 3. This focuses more on Aziraphale, next more on Crowley. Sorry this isn’t as long as the last but felt like it was wrapped up

She felt like she was vibrating as a human, small little shakes destroying her entire sense of balance. Nina had made her take her break, though it was far too early in her shift, and she sat in the back with her legs shaking so violently the table rattled. She'd broken her mug that was sitting on top of it. Y/N was absentminded the entire shift, messing up orders and stuttering with each customer she talked to. Eventually Nina pulled her aside during a lull.

"What is going on?"

"What do you mean?" Y/N asked, eyes wide as she seemed to realize that this wasn't a 'here's the sugar, don't forget the napkins' spiel - the kind of spiel every new person got during the first month of their job, that was both helpful and insulting - but a 'you're fucking up spiel' - which was significantly less enjoyable and filled the receiver with such shame and embarrassment they considered the different cliffs nearby. During a particularly intense thought she considered the cliffs of Broadchurch, before remembering that was from a television show.

"Don't be daft. You've been a good barista these past few weeks, then that couple comes in and you're dancing like a bee."

"A bee?"

"They dance to communicate," Nina said plainly, as though it was an obvious comparison. Nina was sometimes so in her own head, tracking her own thought process, that she couldn't comprehend why it wasn't someone else's immediate thought as well. It was something her shrink told her to work on.

"Oh, sorry. I, they just rattled me." Y/N tried to ignore the image in her head of Nina moonwalking while firing her or someone salsaing on their way to tell someone their son has tried tragically. It was terribly funny and she was not in a terribly funny sort of mood. Demons and angels did that to a person.

Nina stared at her for a moment, "you a homophobe?"

"Oh! Oh my god, no. Never, that's not what I mean. No, no, no," she was rambling, not knowing what to say and now terrified her boss thought she was a homophone. She tried to consider how to explain to Nina that she wasn't homophobic, she'd just been pulled aside by a literal angel and demon who told her that her soul has been trapped on earth for more than 2,000 years eternally connected to them with their miscommunication and angst, which means that when the world does indeed end in fire she will definitely be there and might not have a place to go after the fact aside from miserable eternity. So she settled on saying something close enough to the truth that Nina wouldn't think she's a piece of shit that should be fired. "They, they made these comments about fate. Eternity and whatever. It wasn't bad, they weren't bad, I just got spooked. Not really religious, didn't know what to think of it."

Nina blinked rapidly and paused, letting Y/N's words sink in. "You're like this cause you're having a crisis of fate?"

"I- I, well yeah. It sounds silly. Just got to me."

"We get missionaries in here all the time, the Mormons won't leave me alone. You gonna be like this every time someone mentions God?"

"No! This is a one time thing, I promise. I'm not usually like this. I think it was the de - redhead, he drank like a lot of espresso and he was talking very intense-like." Whenever she got anxious her language devolved into likes and ums, stutters and little comments that only made sense to herself. She sometimes wished she could press an off button to stop the random shit that just decided to spew from her.

Nina looked at her with a sort of blanket skepticism she carried into each conversation. One of the things Maggie both loved and struggled with. Eventually she nodded, "right, okay. Life gets tough, people throw us off. I get it. I'm gonna send you home today, you're a mess even if it is a one time thing. Next time this happens, you tell me so we can fix it." Y/N's shoulders slumped at being sent home, feeling like she failed Nina. Nina, being surprisingly observant, went to reassure her, "shop closes in an hour anyways. Only one person comes in regularly and it's my partner, I'll be fine."

Y/N nodded, untying her apron and hanging it up. Nina gave her a smile as she left, trying awkwardly to comfort her. She really did appreciate the attempts, even if Nina's somewhat harsh demeanor failed to always communicate that.

Y/N loitered outside the shop for a minute, staring at the antique shop of 'Mr. Fell' who she'd come to realize just a few short hours ago belonged to the actual angel Aziraphale. She should go talk to them. They'd told her to. Aziraphale had insisted that she come over after her shift to discuss this situation more, maybe she could start to recover some of her past memories. She'd gotten a few initially, remembering the ring and Crowley's eyes. Crowley had suggested he just make Nina forget she was working and to let her go freely. While tempted by the demon's offer, she'd only had this job for two weeks and wasn't about to risk it all. Though it clearly wasn't the worst of her problems.

She began to cross the street to the building. It was tall and cute, tucked on a street corner and just old enough to be charming. Windows with drawn blinds teased at stacks and stacks of books, but even without approaching the door she knew it'd have a closed sign. Nina had told her when she first started at the coffee shop that the bookshop was never open, the owner liked having space for his personal library rather than actually selling any of his precious books.

Parked in front of the shop was a black Bentley. It was a vintage style though Y/N knew nothing about the year aside from it was older than 1980, and even then it was a hazarded guess. It was sleek, kept in prime condition. Inside one of the windows there was a film with two bullet holes printed on it, something that made Y/N smile. Her grandfather had one of them as well, said he'd bought it because of James Bond. In the back seat she spotted a cardboard box labeled 'troublemaker' with a plant sticking out of it. It's leaves were wilting. Somehow, without even being told, Y/N knew the Bentley was Crowley's.

She lingered in front of the doors. She wanted to knock, she had to knock, but it was bloody scary to face your entire past, present, and future in one go. But, with bravery unmatched since the laudanum accident in the '30s - the 1830s, that is - she knocked.

Behind the door she heard two voices talking, the deeper grumbling and getting closer as he walked to the door. Then it swung open with a gusto, revealing the shape of Crowley.

She swallowed. He was imposing, tall and thin as he peered down a just slightly crooked nose. His hair was beautifully curled back on his head, though the slightest hairs fell onto his forehead. Though his spectacles covered his eyes, she let out a breath knowing those eyes were still there. His eyes had been a constant in her life.

"We're closed- oh. It's you." He said, his voice getting hoarse as he stared at her.

"Who is it - oh! Dear, you're here. Come, come in." Aziraphale said from further in the shop, standing with a book in his hands and spectacles on his nose. He looked kind and sweet, back straight and plush, pink lips curved into a smile. Crowley moved aside for her, letting her cross the threshold with anxious steps. He slammed the door shut.

The bookshop was exactly as she expected. Stacks and stacks of slightly dusty book shelves, covered with as many books as possible. There were horrors, romances, histories, science fictions, fantasies and Bibles. A remarkable number of bibles actually. They had a whole row shoved full of copies of the Bible. Y/N didn't feel like analyzing why an Angel would want well over 20 copies of his group's history but who was she to judge? She owned 5 copies of her favorite book, the Hunchback of Notre Dame. Perhaps a little boring as it was a classic, but the story had hooked her since she saw the enamoring - although a slightly questionable choice to be a children's movie - Disney adaptation. One look into the music and she was glued to the story. The shop smelled of vanilla and old books, a combination that helped calm her racing heart.

"Hi," she said softly once she realized the unearthly beings were staring at her expectantly.

"Hi," Crowley said back. He hadn't taken his spectacles off, and she didn't like that.

"I, um, I love the shop. It's so warm."

"I can, err, lower the temperature if you require, dearest," Aziraphale said, wanting to help calm her but not knowing how.

"No, I meant the atmosphere is warm. Like a hug. But t-thank you," she said. Then after a pause she added, "Aziraphale."

"Would you like a cup of tea, dear?" Aziraphale said finally after a long moment where the three exchanged glances at one another, unaware of what to do next. The tension was so thick she briefly wondered if she jumped from a ledge if she’d be caught in it’s stupid bloody web. A weird and kind of stupid analogy but it seemed to bring her back to reality. Silly things always did.

She let out a breath, "fuck yeah."

Crowley chuckled at this, sauntering back to where he'd been sitting by Aziraphale's desk. Aziraphale gave a curt nod and went into some back room. She lingered by the door.

"C'mon over here, I don't bite," he said, taking a sip of wine from a glass she hadn't seen sit on the end table. His posture was sprawled on a comfy chair, one leg hanging over the arm of it.

"I'm beginning to doubt that," she said with a little laugh, grateful for his relaxed energy to bring down some of the tension. She walked over and sat on a sofa that was surprisingly comfortable, letting herself sink into the cushions.

"Only if you ask, darling," Crowley said with a wink. He immediately regretted the wink but tried not to let it show. He was never an intentionally flirty individual so when he did say flirty things, often by accident, he cringed at himself.

But she just flushed at his words and got comfortable on the sofa. She wasn't upset, in fact she shot back with a, "only in your wildest dreams, love." The term love sent his human heart racing and he quickly looked away. Only Aziraphale had made him feel this way and he hadn't even begun to process those emotions, let alone do it a second time for her.

Aziraphale returned with two steaming mugs of tea and a bottle of wine which he promptly handed over to Crowley. She thanked him and sipped the drink, letting out a happy sigh at the cinnamon thrown in. She loved cinnamon.

"How are you feeling, my dear?" Aziraphale asked, his eyes wide and full of concern. "It can be a lot to take in."

"I'll admit I've kind of been in a state of shock. It doesn't feel real. Not that I don't believe you, I mean you did stop time and I remember your ring. It's, it's kind of frightening, actually? If that doesn't sound childish."

"Earth's full of s'frightening things," Crowley said in a strange sort of reassurance.

"Right, well while I appreciate that sentiment, you two aren't from Earth. So it's another layer of frightening."

"Perhaps we could help ease your worry by answering some questions?"

"Oh, I don't know. I have so many, I don't want to waste your time." She said, running her tongue over her lips quickly. She was struggling to maintain eye contact.

"Darling, you aren't a waste." This kind statement came, surprisingly - or unsurprisingly depending who you asked, as Aziraphale watched with a fondness towards a certain demon Y/N couldn't explain - from Crowley. "We could ask you some as well if you'd like. Even the scales a bit."

She blew out a breath, nodding. Her heart was racing inside her chest. Strangely enough she did trust these two unearthly beings, but she didn't know what to do or say. She'd never imagine herself being in a situation like this before, and she couldn't fathom the words. They slid on her tongue but wouldn't come out. So she meekly said, "you first?"

Aziraphale and Crowley exchanged a glance. Aziraphale smiled when he looked into Crowley's eyes, remembering how he and Y/N had agreed they were the demon's best feature. They made him look so kind, even if it seemed a roundabout sort of way. Crowley, on the other hand, was admiring the way Aziraphale guided what felt like such a new and unknown conversation. The Angel took lead with a breath and a kind smile, "what is your favorite dessert?"

Her mouth dropped slightly as her eyes lit up, she hadn't expected such an innocent question. "I- I don't know. I can be quite picky. Maybe Tiramisu? I quite fancy that."

"How lovely! Such a wonderful choice." Aziraphale clapped eagerly, now craving a nice cold Tiramisu with a warm cup of coffee right beside it. And of course water as a palate cleanser. Oh and perhaps -

"What-," she started, then seemed to lose steam. Y/N straightened, setting her mug down and sitting more firmly. "When did you meet me? First meet me?"

Crowley gestured for Aziraphale to start. The Angel began, "we met you in 55BC. You couldn't have been more than 25, maybe a little younger given you were unmarried at the time. Crowley and I went to eat oysters, and you were in a corner crying. Julius Caesar had just announced his invasion on Britannia, and you had a brother and father who were both in the Navy. You worried over their safety. I blessed you eternally, and Crowley cursed you eternally."

"What made you curse me?"

Crowley looked embarrassed, "I wasn't used to the whole cursing thing so it was a surprise for s'both. You tripped over my foot and called me an asshole."

Her eyebrows shot up and she laughed slightly. Then she stilled, searching her brain for as much memory as she could. It was hidden in the back of her head, hazy ideas of what happened with no coherent life story. She mused to herself that all those hyper realistic historical dreams she had must have some founding in her experience. Her experience. There was a Y/N that existed out of this body and this name, and she existed over 2,000 years previously. She was a sister and a daughter, she had fears and worries just like she did now. It was a frightening concept.

Crowley seemed to notice Y/N sink into herself, mind moving so quick with all these ideas. He couldn't well tell her not to overthink it because even trying to think about it was overthinking it, but he knew he had to be careful with it. Ease her into the world with little memories here and there. "You like Shakespeare?"

"Oh, I, yes I do. I love Shakespeare's works. I performed in one of his plays in secondary school."

"Which one?"

"Taming of the Shrew," she laughed. "Horrible meaning nowadays, but I was lucky enough to be Katherine. It was fun yelling and banging things up on stage."

Crowley and Aziraphale chuckled, they would have loved to see that performance. They imagined her standing brave, eyes sharp and shoulders pulled back as she spat venomous words to all of the men who dared to stand in her way. She was a passionate woman - time couldn't steal that - regardless of her acting ability, they wanted to see and feel it all.

"Did I ever see Shakespeare?"

"Funny you mentioned it, dearest, but yes. We met you once at Hamlet's rehearsals. You were quite enamored with the stage," Aziraphale looked wistfully into Y/N's eyes. "I know it seems odd to say given the strange circumstances, but it's one of my favorite memories of you. Before I realized who you were, I always thought fondly of the girl who broke in to see a Shakespeare show. You were so excited to be alive and experience life, that can be quite refreshing for an immortal creature."

Y/N's chest felt tight and she tried to swallow the emotion in her chest. She'd been there, seen it with her own eyes with people she didn't know she'd known and would know. The idea of reincarnation, of a soul going through the motions of life forever, haunted her and she suddenly felt as though she couldn't breathe. They were being wonderful with her, patient and kind. They knew that the concept of eternity wasn't easy, a brain couldn't wrap around it just right. It was so much, it was too much. She felt trapped and stupid, so stupid - shouldn't she be able to process this? Characters in film and book seem to understand the confusion around them like it was common sense, they don't panic over each thought related to what it is. Her chest was tight, she closed her eyes and tried to fight back tears she didn't know were there. This was too much, why would some God give all of this to humans?

She suddenly felt a hand along her back, gently rubbing up and down. It was Aziraphale, hands large, warm, and consistent along her spine. She released a shaky breath. "Breathe with me, dearest. Inhale... exhale. Inhale..."

Crowley appeared, sitting on the floor and leaning against the coffee table. He pointed to her hand and asked, "May I?"

She nodded and he lifted it, letting his fingers rub mindless circles into her palms. They were short and sweet, running up to her elbow and down to her finger tips. They made her shudder but in the best way.

Her heart started to calm down, the world stopped spinning beneath her. She focused on Aziraphale's warm hands on her back, Crowley's ginger touches to her arm. They were kind and gentle. It made her feel safe, it made her feel appreciated. In the back of her mind she felt those stupid, mindless thoughts about self loathing and incompetence.

Crowley seemed to sense these feelings. Whether he could read her mind or she was just that transparent she didn't know, but he jumped in. "Y/N, it'snot bad to question the universe. The universe is bloody strange, no one can make sense of it."

She opened her eyes now, blinking away the tears, and looked into his. His glasses were still on and she slowly went to remove them, to reveal the eyes she remembered. These eyes were raw, these eyes didn't lie. They were kind to her. She nodded.

"Dearest, if you are comfortable, would you like to take a rest? I have a bed upstairs if you'd like," Aziraphale said. She turned to look to him. His eyes were glassy and his nose pink, as though he was fighting to hold back tears himself. She liked his face, he had a pretty face. Pink lips with a perfect little Cupid's bow on the top, turned up in an attempt at a smile. She could tell he was struggling, wanting to help her.

So she nodded, stood up on wobbly legs and followed after Aziraphale up a winded staircase to a cozy bedroom. It was small, but covered with antiques and precious books on a desk in the corner. A large bed took up most of the room, made up nearly with beige sheets and many, many fluffy pillows. Aziraphale took his time fussing, folding back the sheets and making sure the pillows were just right. She climbed into the bed and laid her head down, smiling in affirmation.

"Now, dearest, we will be right downstairs. You remember that this situation is frightening, you are not wrong. If you need either of us just call."

She reached out for his hand and kissed his palm, muttering "thank you," against his skin. He nodded, flushed cheeks and ears, and hoped for her to sleep well. She closed her eyes, willing to be swept away in a world without fear.

—————

Aziraphale went down the steps quietly, meeting Crowley back where they were. Crowley had put his spectacles back on, sprawling in the chair. However, Aziraphale knew Crowley well enough to know that it wasn't as casual as it looked. He could tell by the way Crowley adjusted awkwardly that he, too, was trying to hide his emotions. Aziraphale sat down on the couch where Y/N had sat, his hands on his legs awkwardly before he sighed.

Aziraphale poured himself a glass of Crowley's wine, savoring the sharp taste. Crowley's brows shot up and he smirked, "bad day, eh?"

"I still do not understand the concept of sarcasm."

"It's funny, Angel."

"Hardly, if it was funny I would laugh."

Crowley chuckled to himself, sipping the wine. Aziraphale was so unintentionally hilarious sometimes. He glanced outside the window, peeking through the blinds as the sun started to slip behind the buildings. Crowley wondered vaguely how Y/N was feeling, wondered how they could ever make her feel better. There was no good way out of this situation, it'd never happened before and was certainly not going to happen again.

As Crowley thought about Y/N and the world, Aziraphale was caught thinking about the demon. He thought back to how kind he had been to Y/N, how he'd asked for permission to distract her with light touch. His reassuring words she hadn't asked for but he seemed to know she needed to here. The way he understood how terrifying the prospect of life truly was. Aziraphale had had this thought for a while, but it seemed to suddenly strike him that Crowley truly wasn't evil at all. In fact, he was kinder than most angels Aziraphale knew.

Questions. All it has been to cause Crowley to fall was some questions meant out of kindness. And yet questions were what he encouraged, what he did to help Y/N and help Aziraphale. He asked Aziraphale about anything, knowing how the Angel loved to learn and discover. He prompted him to reach farther, do better, not settle for what is known but look for more. Questions paved the way to understanding, which might not always lead to happiness, but it can settle the soul. Crowley had learned a long time ago that knowing is half the battle, but he'd rather stand half a chance than not at all.

"You were very kind to her," Aziraphale eventually said.

"Ngk, she was s'panicking."

"You didn't have to reassure her."

Crowley made a noise in the back of his throat as though he resented that statement, "yous might say that but when you trap someone to eternity, she deserves ki - not bad stuff."

Almost a dangerous slip up. Crowley was typically very aware of the words he spoke and how it could get him in trouble. Though his affiliation with Hell was pretty much done, they still had the power to torture him need be. No use letting the word out that he could ever be 'kind.' Crowley remembered what life was like after the 1830s, and his back seemed to burn with the memory. Scars that never truly heal, but reform, each step more painful than the last. But that was a moment for a different day, different circumstances.

Aziraphale went to speak, then doubted himself. Then he strengthened, reminding himself that things are different. He was going to make a move. "Crowley, I was planning to read my book. Would you - would you like to sit with me while I do?"

Crowley blinked, not understanding Aziraphale's poorly explained request, "I am sssitting Angel."

"Over here." Aziraphale said awkwardly, gesturing to the space around him.

Crowley didn't understand what Aziraphale meant. On the angels lap? Certainly not, neither of them were ready for that level of intimacy. Right beside him? Perhaps, but Aziraphale patted his thigh so perhaps not. The Angel cleared his throat, "I thought, perhaps, you could rest your head on my lap while I read."

Crowley's eyebrows shot up. Ah. Despite himself his cheeks flushed pink, but he wanted more than anything to fulfill the angel's request. He'd never dreamed that Aziraphale would prompt anything.

They stared at one another, realizing what this meant. In this moment they were acknowledging an unspoken part of their relationship, that they were certainly more than friends or acquaintances and far from enemies. That they might 'fancy' each other, as the humans say. This was their person, and they were wrapped eternally with one another. Crowley knew another fact, they were wrapped eternally with Y/N. And they couldn't make their relationship with her function if they could not understand themselves either. He also knew that Aziraphale looked very handsome, ankles crossed and book posed in hand as he waited for the demon.

Crowley sauntered over, laying closer to the edge so his legs could dangle off the arm. Then he let his head fall on the angel's lap. Aziraphale had very strong thighs, always had. They were warm through his trousers, and all of him smelled of vanilla and old books. Crowley let himself close his eyes, cherishing the warmth and surprising comfort of the position.

He felt soft fingers start to scratch lightly at his scalp, musing with his hair as gently as possible. Crowley let out a small moan at the feeling, Satan it felt good to have your hair played with. Aziraphale chuckled.

"What're you reading?"

"Henry V."

Crowley swallowed before asking, "Can yous read it to me?"

Aziraphale smiled, "of course, darling." He flipped back to the first scene for Crowley's sake. "The chorus sings 'O for a muse of fire, that would ascend the brightest Heaven of invention' ..."

Though they wouldn’t say the words until much later, until emotions seemed to swirl round them and they couldn’t not address it, this was the best way they could say it.

It crossed a demon’s mind for the first clear time, I’m in love with an Angel.

It crossed an angel’s mind for the first clear time, I’m in love with a demon.

—————

She woke up the next morning to the sun blinking through the blinds. She hadn't slept that hard in a long time and she let herself wake up slowly, sleep threatening to take her over again. Y/N sighed, that was nice. Aziraphale's room was organized chaos, and as she woke up she let her eyes adjust to all the little things throughout the room. Trinkets.

A snow-globe that looked like early 1900s, multiple copies of Beowulf in various conditions stacked on his desk, a note from Crowley signed with a large signature taped to the wall, a map of England with a pin sticking out of a town called Tadfield. A whole person's history in one collection.

Y/N was significantly calmer this morning that she was yesterday. She'd woken up for a moment during the night and began to let her mind wander to all the possibilities, before stopping herself and falling asleep. Today, she found herself more used to the idea. It was strange, uncomfortable even, but she wasn't panicking.

She got out of bed, rolling her ankles and stretching her body. Her bobble had fallen out during the night and she grabbed it to pull her hair back and out of her face. Then she carefully went downstairs, smelling the warm scent of baked goods wafting its way to her. When she entered a kitchen that seemed hidden behind rooms full of books, she saw Aziraphale in his vest and trousers paired with an apron covered in sweet little hearts.

"Good morning, my dear!" He said when he saw her. He was making some tea and gestured for her to take a seat at the island table while the kettle finished boiling. "How did you sleep?"

"Really well, actually," she said with a little laugh, her voice hoarse from her first words.

He turned to her, smile so genuine it shocked her, "I'm so glad to hear it. I am making us some cinnamon rolls. I've also decided to slice up some apples to go with it, I thought the freshness of the fruit might be nice first thing in the morning."

"That sounds amazing," she said. "Where is Crowley?"

"He said he had some business to attend to. Shouldn't be out long, I assure you, dearest."

She mulled over in mind what 'business' Crowley had. She knew from some of their explanations in the cafe that they don't necessarily work for Heaven or Hell as they used to, they're more or less independent. That left them to live life as they see fit, so what business could a demon have?

"Thank you, Aziraphale. For everything."

He glanced up, surprised. He came over and grasped her hand lightly, "my dear, this is a strange thing that has happened to you. Crowley and I wish to support you."

"If I can ask... why? You could have not told me, you could have continued without dealing with the consequences. I'd have never known."

"We couldn't do that. You didn't choose this, and we did not mean to do it."

"I don't want to be your responsibility, that's not fair either."

He blushed, "It's, err, it's more than that. We want to be with you. In whatever way you'll take us, myself and Crowley. If I may be forward, we've yearned for you for too long to lose you the first time we realize what we have."

"You've not even known me? I could be horrible."

"You are not horrible, dearest. I could feel it if you were. It's ... odd. Our souls are drawn to you and we want you in our lives, even without knowing the details. Both Crowley and I have longed for the woman with the strange encounters throughout time, and we finally found her. The souls are linked, even without reason, and we'll take you in any way we can."

Her mouth dropped open, forming a little shocked 'o.' That was hot. Is that weird to say that was hot? She'd never had a man - granted he wasn't a man just presenting male - confess wanting her, in any way, like that. It made her toes tingle and her heart warm, and she stared deeply into Aziraphale's blue eyes to be certain this was no joke. She knew he was an Angel but she put that aside and looked at him. He said they were drawn to her, and without saying the word implied they'd loved her for years without knowing. She isn't the sort this happens to, she doesn't have creatures who want to know her and understand her like this. It was a pure connection, one built on a link they couldn't understand but knew all the same. Mysterious ways of the Almighty and all. She kept looking into those eyes, searching for any sort of trickery. Despite herself, she knew he wasn't the sort to lie.

The kettle started to screech and Aziraphale pulled away to pour the cuppas, destroying the moment. He slid hers in front of her, just as she likes it. It was delightful.

Y/N watched Aziraphale move around the kitchen. He wasn't a particularly tall man, but he wasn't short either. She let her eyes fall along his strong forearms, revealed by his sleeves rolled to the elbow, lightly dusted with hair. His hands were capable, yet she knew they were soft. He might not be the most conventional sort of attractive, the type that movie stars are, but she was struck by him. Aziraphale had a draw to him that made her blush and glance down, suddenly shy in his presence yet knowing she was safe in who she is.

She realized that she wanted to know more about him, she wanted to hear his stories about his life, regardless of if she was in it. She wanted to know more about his relationship with Crowley, and what they had that seemed to be left unsaid. Y/N couldn't believe the fantastical reality that started playing in her head, a world where she lived and loved a demon and an Angel. Love was getting ahead of herself, she should be more careful. She longed for a good relationship with them, but that didn't mean that it had to be a romantic relationship. But, as she looked back at the Angel she sighed, damn did the Angel have great thighs.

"Dearest?" He asked, eyes wide and mouth just slightly parted as he stared at her.

She glanced down. Her tea had gotten cold and a warm cinnamon roll with apple slices on the side sat in front of her. "O-oh. Thank you."

"Is everything alright?" Damn him for sounding so sincere, blue eyes sweet like candy.

"You won't laugh?" She asked with a small smile, though she'd already made the decision to tell him honestly. She had a feeling lying would not make things easier in this relationship.

"No," Aziraphale answered precisely.

"I was distracted by you. You're so handsome."

Aziraphale seemed to have a little shock, as though he didn't believe that is what she said. "Pardon?"

"I," She laughed softly, embarrassed to revealing that so boldly. Y/N always admired those who were bold, and in the moments it was needed to she would, but she didn't often express those thoughts. Mainly for a fear of being seen as a creep, but also because rejection is a scary thought. But Aziraphale was sweet, and seemed flattered that she thought him to be handsome. "I think you're very handsome. I like looking at you."

His cheeks flushed pink and he took a rushed sip of his tea, "well, thank you darling. I- I hadn't quite expected that. I've been told I'm soft."

She laughed, "so? Soft isn't a bad thing."

"Do you like soft?"

"Sure, I like soft, I like hard. Besides, I believe personality and talent makes a person attractive anyhow, it's not too important what it might look like to society."

"How do you mean?"

"Well, there's plenty of people who look just as the world wants for beauty. And I don't mean to say they're unattractive, they are. But I personally believe that a kind, talented man who might be ugly to the papers is the most attractive you'll encounter. And a mean, untalented man touted as attractive tends to be ugly. Words change appearances."

"You're very wise, my dear," Aziraphale said with a warm smile, placing his hand over hers. She took a shaking breath, looking up at him. He was close to her now, hot breath that smelled of cinnamon hitting her cheeks as a hand lifted near her cheek, "May I?"

She didn't know what he was asking, but she nodded because she knew she'd relish in it all the same. First Aziraphale's hand went to the bobble round her hair, gently releasing it so it fell down. Her scalp itched from the strain, and his fingers gently massaged it. His hands were strong, capable.

She was struck for a moment with a memory that seemed forgotten. Her holding the hand of a kind stranger as she slid a finger onto his finger, the way he'd clutched hers as though he might lose her. They were warm then, kind. These hands had also blessed her when she wasn't looking, guided her safely home, and cared for her at the bank of the river at St James's park. For Aziraphale it was a flash, a mere second as the memories went through her mind but she felt them deeply, surrounding her. She could feel the dirt floor of the Globe theatre beneath her feet, or the way her heart had jumped when she spotted him in 1865. It was overwhelming and beautiful, she saw a whole person's history in her interactions with him, with them. It was stupid, it was silly, but she wanted to know them. She wanted to experience the life she could only remember in fragments.

Y/N hadn't realized that tears had come down her cheeks until those hands that spoke the history came to hold her face. She leaned into his touch, the pads of his thumbs wiping the tears away.

"My dear, may I?" Aziraphale asked, his voice suddenly huskier than she'd ever heard it. Her eyes opened, staring into his. He cried also, gentle tears down his sweet cheeks. She hadn't realized she'd been holding onto his vest.

"Aziraphale... I remember you."

That was the invitation, the consent, he needed. With a gentle sort of ferocity, Aziraphale leaned in and took her lips in his own. It was eager yet restrained as it held her in place, imploring her to feel all that he felt. All 2,000 years of yearning over an unknown idea. She kissed back with an intensity she didn't know she had. She hadn't much kissing experience, not the sort to fancy many people due to her high standards that seemed only met by non-humans, but with each inexperienced stroke she paired it with passion and enthusiasm. He guided her, led her through the kiss with grace. It was like a dance. It was messy at times, noses clashing and tear stained cheeks brushing, but it was perfect. It was Aziraphale and Y/N, and they seemed to understand what the other needed.

They parted from air, their mouths not far from one another's as they let out gasps. Y/N wanted more, this Angel was dangerously close to becoming her own brand of oxygen and that kiss was the best bloody one she'd ever had. Her first was a horrible sort, a lad with no lips and horrible breath.

Aziraphale leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to Y/N's lips before pulling away more definitely. They were both right messes. Mouths swollen and pink, cheeks flushed, and hair ruined. Y/N hadn't even realized her hands had gotten buried in those soft curls, and his explored her locks that now hung free. She had a thing for good hair, and it seemed the Angel did too.

"Did - did I overstep any boundaries?" He asked, having to clear his throat. His voice came back to his normal register, though it seemed to ring with suppressed emotions.

"No," she said simply. "You didn't."

Aziraphale blew out a breath, letting his forehead fall against hers with a soft laugh, "I worried, my dear, that that was a rash decision on my part. You have only, technically, known me for two days."

"I've known you for a lifetime, love."

The nickname seemed to roll off her tongue, as it had the other night with Crowley. Comfortable, easy. And Aziraphale tried to stop the way his vessel's heart jumped at the thought of love. Too early, yes.

"Let's eat our breakfast, shall we?"

"I'm starved," she answered back, sitting on a bar stool and pulling her plate towards her. "This looks delightful."

They ate together with small bits of conversation intermixed between flushed glances when they caught the other staring at them. Aziraphale's food was as good as it looked, sweetness baked into a cinnamon delight that made her roll her eyes back. God she could eat this whole. Or, she supposed, she should say Aziraphale she could eat this whole, remove Her from the equation. Soon Y/N realized that she had a shift coming up at Nina's cafe, and needed to run to her flat to change.

"Your apron is at the front, dearest, with your purse from yesterday. We left them untouched."

"Oh, good, thank you Angel."

She went out and grabbed her purse, checking to make sure she had everything she needed. Then she realized her hair falling in her face. "Aziraphale?"

"Hmm?"

"I need my bobble back."

"Your what, dearest?"

"My bobble, hair tie thing. What you took out of my hair."

Aziraphale hummed as he walked into the main area and towards his desk, an odd yet attractive set of glasses on his nose. "I've not the faintest idea what you're talking about, love. Perhaps it fell."

Ah. Unlikely story. Especially unlikely given the bobble now on the angel's wrist. Guess he fancied her hair like that, round her face. She rolled her eyes and made to leave, before hesitating at the door. "Thank you, Aziraphale. For.. for taking me seriously. It's a strange idea, my soul being immortal and what not. I'm struggling to adjust. But I know that I want you and I want Crowley, I want to figure this out."

Aziraphale's chest seemed to lighten at the words and he smiled at the woman standing before him. She was beautiful and calm as she said this, her hair looking radiant. Y/N was quite right, he fancied her hair indeed. "I'm glad to hear that, Y/N. After your shift, if you'd like, you may come back to the bookshop?"

She smiled, "I'd like that. I, I think I'll pop round to my flat after work first to wash my hair. Let me write my number for you."

Y/N quickly scribbled her number on the front page of a very modern copy of Hunchback of Notre Dame, handing it to Aziraphale and saying, "it's my favorite book. Thought this new copy could handle the defacement."

Then she left quickly and the Angel watched her figure race past the door towards her flat, lips still pink from kissing an Angel.

#good omens #good omens season 2 #aziraphale x crowley #fanfiction #good omens fanfiction #fluff #aziraphale x crowley x reader #aziraphale x reader #so much fluff #angsty fluff #emotional hurt/comfort #binging broadchurch #accidentally made this a series #didn’t mean to but now there will be probably a part 3 and 4 #so sorry to the people who were really invested #sorry this is short

87 notes · View notes

nobodysdaydreams · 3 months

Text

Y'ALL I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHERE TO BEGIN. WTF? WTF?

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

(Or my reaction to Episodes 53-54 of Wolf359).

Welcome back dear readers! Thank you for enjoying my reaction to the Mission Mishap and mini episodes, which were shorter and a lot easier to fit into my busy schedule. I try to make sure I have time to type out good live quality reactions for you guys, so thanks for your patience on this.

Tagging the mutuals who got me invested in this, and if you want to be tagged or untagged from these posts, lmk, or you can follow my blog or simply follow the tag "#bods wolf359 reactions". Anyone who has followed me for a while knows my updates are inconsistent, so I apologize in advance for that and for any spelling/grammar mistakes in my posts.

@sophieswundergarten @oflightningandstars @acollectionofcuriousreblogs @herawell @commsroom @lovelyladylavie

Episode 53: Dirty Work

This episode has gotten a lot of hype from the mutuals. I hope that means Pryce and Cutter are actually gonna bother to show up this time. The two of them did their whole ominous “we’re going to space” thing at the very beginning of this season, well hurry up and go to space then since you care so much! Instead they gave us enough time for Doug to have his radio show arc, which (while it was necessary, and I enjoyed it), just goes to show how much time Pryce and Cutter actually put into this. Which should be evident given that it has taken them at least this long to get to space despite it being their “life’s work” (and for some “higher purpose” they’ll probably monologue about too no doubt 🙄. Hopefully they keep their speech shorter or at least more interesting than Whiskey Boy). Laziest villains of all time sending other people to space the dirty work. Which happens to be the episode title, look at that.

And if I had to guess who is going to be doing Pryce and Cutter’s dirty work, my money’s on Whiskey Boy. Well, actually, my money’s on free-will deprived Hera, but I hope I’m wrong.

Well this is rare. No preview ads to skip through. Huh.

Oh, Minkowski 🥺. We know you didn't want to kill anyone. Don't worry, I will give you justice in fanfic if the show doesn't give it to you here.

HILBERT. Shut up. Even in death, you still don't get it do you? Minkowski has a right to be upset. Even if anyone on this ship makes it back to earth, they are still gonna be extremely traumatized.

Doug, what are you up to now?

And no, Lovelace. Minkowski is not okay. None of you are okay.

"23rd time is the charm!" That's the spirit, Doug! 🥰

Oh right, the reset that Hera has been putting off.

Lol, Hera's "Good Boy". There you go Doug. You see, he can be taught.

"Get him to do what he's told!" Well that would likely be Hera's department.

Not the bottles of beer song. I swear, why are Kepler and Jacobi even still here? What are they contributing? 🍻 "Don't do anything stupid?" a bit late for that.

Um...what is this? Who was that? Wait is that Maxwell's ghost talking to Jacobi?

Do not be a bad guy again Duck Boy. 🦆 That is how your friend got killed, remember? Do you want to be a dead duck?

Well at least we got some music. Nice work, Doug! 🎶

VERIFICATION CODE WHISKEY. a;lsjkfklsdjfk I KNOW Kepler came up with that one. I don't care that it's a legit code, I know it is, but he probably puts Whiskey in every single secret code of his.

Doug. GET BACK INSIDE.

Not demolitions. Jacobi. You fool. You impulsive explosive dumb-dumb. Do not blow up the ship you're on.

"Now I may not be as smart as my late colleague" understatement of the century Jacobi.

Oh great. He's willing to kill them all. Fantastic. Oh and Kepler's coming too. OH. Because Minkowski killed Maxwell and Kepler let her die and had no remorse. Jacobi wants revenge. Oh. Oh no...

"How's your day going?" been better.

Kepler's speech...so was he working with Jacobi this whole time? Convincing plan if he was, but I gotta say Kepler, I don't know if that's gonna work as smoothly for you this time around. Jacobi seemed pretty upset, and there would be no reason for him to reveal that now when he has the upper hand.

SHOOT HIM!

AS:Jlkfjsdlkfjlkds I KNEW IT!!!!!!!

"Pretty please with sugar on top" oh we're going there.

And after hearing about how Kepler bought him explosives...this whole betrayal thing really did go to the next level with them.

"Is this an elaborate prank to teach me a very important lesson?" askjdfkld;jf I love you Doug. 😂 And that would be hilarious.

Poor Doug...that's it Doug! Go into the star! That's what they want! Why do they want this? Who knows. It is weird though. They presumably know that humans die if they do that, and if they wanted them dead there's a million more efficient ways to kill them.

"Blow Kepler's brain's out" "Jacobi...where are you going with this?" Wow, Whiskey Boy really IS slow, isn't he? Maybe it wouldn't have killed him to shed a few fake tears at Maxwell's funeral.

"He was the one who put her in the line of fire, and you should be the one who has to do it."

That does make sense. Because Kepler won't care about shooting Minkowski or anyone else, and while Minkowski certainly wouldn't enjoy dying, she's still tortured with guilt over the fact that she killed Maxwell. But force Minkowski to relive that trauma, intentionally and painfully, and taking everything from Kepler...oh man Duck Boy really did think this through.

"You complete and utter idiot..." YES PUNCH HIM JACOBI! Unconventional grieving process is an understatement.

"I don't want to kill anyone" "Else" ouch.

And yeah... this is Jacobi's "2 birds one bullet solution"

Jacobi is unhinged.

"This is it. Either she shoots you or I kill everyone" yeah it really is over.

Jacobi. You don't need to do this. You really don't.

PHONE CALL?

No. Do not call Pryce and Cutter. Do not call them Jacobi, I don't care if you want to tell them off do not give them information do not call them. Do not call anyone. Maxwell is dead, who does he even have to talk to? Is he gonna call his family? Maxwell's family?

Kepler begging Minkowski for a backup plan...Jacobi really DID beat him...he's nothing now. Though to be fair, he didn't have much to begin with.

"There's no bomb?" Then...what is...oh no. Jacobi what is this game?

"I'm not crazy, that stuff's dangerous!" 😂 Why is Jacobi evil Doug sometimes? I swear if it wasn't for the circumstances they would be friends.

"You've been through plenty, just sit tight. It will all be over soon." I don't know if that's meant to reassure Lovelace or sound ominous Jacobi, but if it was the former, you really gotta work on not sounding like the bad guy.

"Blue, being sucked in, process, killed the original captain Lovelace...the door." There you go Doug! I knew he could figure it out! His science fiction knowledge really comes in handy.

That is a big risk, especially since you don't know what these aliens want, or their history with slimy business man and his evil science girlfriend!

Yep. Leap of faith. Scary stuff, especially when your trust has been broken before.

"Why couldn't it be snakes" Doug, be careful what you wish for.

"How could he? After everything we've been through?" Kepler, be serious. You stalked him, brought him expensive Whiskey and sweet talked a desperate and broken man into joining your murder organization, showed him creepy levels of favoritism at various points in time (especially coming from you of all people), and had zero remorse when you let his best friend get killed. That's what you've been through.

"Will he blow us up" "Yeah." "Can you override his override?" "No. He and Maxwell handled that. I trusted them." Yes, Kepler. And they trusted you. Now one of them is dead. Let's think about this for a moment. I'm sure if we all put our heads together, we can get to the bottom of this mystery of why Jacobi has betrayed you for apparently no reason.

Is Kepler's back up plan shooting Jacobi? OH MY GOSH IT IS...AND YOU WONDER WHY HE BETRAYED YOU? Kepler, you moron, he's probably listening to this entire conversation. He might be deciding which side he wants to back at this very moment. Now is the time to act really really sad about Maxwell and very very broken up about how you treated Jacobi. Not openly admit that you threw Maxwell's life away to get what you wanted, and that you'd throw Jacobi's life away to save your own skin. Otherwise, Jacobi might just end up shooting YOU when he walks through that door.

"Who is putting your station in danger?" You Kepler. You are doing this.

"For once in your life, shut up" About time someone said that Kepler.

"You're hurt, we all are. But you don't have to kill anyone." Oh Minkowski, I know you're trying but Duck Boy is not in a rational space right now. He's literally trolley probleming you right now.

Okay now Minkowski is going insane. Minkowski stop. JACOBI STOP.

If Kepler was a better man he would shoot himself to end this instead of muttering "this is crazy" at the drama that he is directly responsible for. He really does not know when to keep his mouth shut, does he?

"It's not too late to change your mind." YES MINKOWSKI. TEACH THEM GOOD MORALS. It's never too late. Thank you, finally, someone gets it.

"After everything he's done, after everything you've done?" Yes, and after everything you've done too, Jacobi.

Tell him Minkowski. "I know who you're angry at. It's you. Because you could have backed down but you didn't. We both did. We killed two people. And that's eating you up inside."

I love this so much.

"We kill them. Whatever orders, whatever they did, we did it. That's what the riddle teaches you. However you make the choice, you still make the choice. The blood is still on your hands." "You know what doesn't help? MORE BLOOD"

The cycle ends here! YES MINKOWSKI!

"What will?" Jacobi is listening! Come on Duck Boy. You're waddling your way there. You can do it!

"Twenty bucks says I figure it out first" is this really happening???? Is this really happening???? Please tell me Duck Boy doesn't relapse. I need someone to come to reason.

She never had a bullet. You never had a bomb.

YES, Shut Kepler up! FINALLY the team up we deserve.

I'm glad Lovelace and Minkowski are checking in on each other. And you two both deserve command. You need each other. You all need each other.

Oh Hera. She missed the whole thing. 😂

"What did I miss?" Well, Jacobi is a sort of good guy now (or at least an ally), Kepler still sucks, and everyone forgot about Doug.

Wait. DOUG WHAT ARE YOU DOING?

NO DOUG. NO DOUG NO. AT LEAST GO BACK TO THE SHIP AND TALK IT OUT WITH THEM FIRST.

Well that WAS a wild ride. Maybe one of my favorite episodes so far. I can see why y'all were hyping it up.

Episode 54: The Watchtower

Huh. No more pre-episode previews again. And who is this?

Oh Doug. Oh dear. Doug, you poor thing, I'm glad you had a breakthrough but you probably should have talked this through with everyone first.

Doug. Oh Doug. You're the main character and there are a lot of episodes left. You can't just casually throw yourself into the star midway through the season and die like that.

Something is coming out of the star? Reaching out towards, Doug? Oh boy. Well...

...yikes. What is he saying?

Hera is probably listening to this like "oh Doug...Doug what did you do?"

I love how Doug is still talking to Hera. 💕 "Any objections? Good girl." Well that certainly parallels the last chapter...

Wait. Two more stars? Triple star system? That's pretty cool.

Um. What is that? Aliens? ...hopefully nice aliens?

...or not. Oh dear.

...and um. Where is Doug now? Woke up? Woke up from WHAT?

Did the aliens put Doug back in the ship?

Or...is this now clone Doug? I hope not.

Well at least there's breathable air and gravity in this alien hotel.

Mirror? Yeah that is a creepy touch. Considerate, yet creepy.

Self-repairing mirror? Again, cool but creepy. And Doug is prefect for this. They got the movie from YOU MIND Doug. They built this creepy hotel for you, I'm guessing.

And when the alien shows up, I bet it's gonna be one that looks like you or your loved ones given that they used your voice already.

What was that noise?

Are they just keeping him there?

"Let's get our probe on" Doug...they are. What do you think this is?

Yep...alien Doug. Hi alien Doug. :) 👋👽

"Tell me this isn't where I die and you take my place. My dad always said I'd die if I wasn't more careful..." it's alright Doug, I've been told that myself plenty of times.

What?

Words. Speak more words.

Why do they need Doug to speak words?

Ah yes. Mirroring and learning. That's what they want. But why? Why Doug?

Crippled by a language limited by what? Yet achieving interstellar momentum? Uh...what? Symbiological base set of language?

Doug singing the alphabet 😂

DIE????

What is die? The concept is unknown? Oh...oh dear. Explain that it's a bad thing Doug. Explain that it's a very bad scary thing.

"I hate it when Kepler and Jacobi are right" Don't we all Doug, don't we all?

Stops existing!

Incomplete understanding of the universe.

Yes, yes, to dust you shall return, no matter is created or destroyed it simply changes form, but you seem very unnaturally calm about this.

All matter is reused and repurposed. Ceasing from existence is not possible. ...well that's true...but...YOU are something else now. YOU are gone. Something else is in your place now.

Bob. Bob. "Limited time?" "Unsuitable for his biology?" So you DO know what death is. Because you understand that a place unsuitable for his biology = no Doug.

Wait. In the NETWORK? WE? Bob. Are you a hive mind?

"You learned to speak English?" "Correct. It has also lead to debate over whether YOU can speak English." Dang, they really came for him there.

The process? Why are you evaluating Doug?

"Terms you can understand may take some time" Well for super intelligent beings, you should be smart enough to dumb it down.

Don't like that laugh. "A place very very far away from here." Interesting.

"The farthest point away from civilized space"

I see. And what exactly does civilized space look like?

"Discomfort should pass quickly" time is relative, so I hope you're right, Bob.

He gave Doug knowledge? Well, that might be a good way to one up Cutter.

Okay transfer between stars...I'm guessing no, because they didn't use the sun. Huh. I was correct.

Red = no, Blue = go. Well, Bob, sometimes the basics are all you need.

Another species. Rearrange matter? I see. So they are basically aliens with god-like powers that join together to form a superpower.

And they're recruiting humans...but they seem unimpressed so far. Why would they...oh.

They want the music don't they? They've never...they don't have music, but they like it for some reason.

Well then just send them up a band, seems like an easy solution.

Examination, evaluation...surrogates of specimens?

"Unnecessarily dramatic description" "The wolf doesn't even know it's a wolf!" "We arranged atoms" "You brought her back from the dead" "The distinction is irrelevant" Doug, please explain it to them. They really did do Lovelace dirty.

OH MY GOSH THIS IS EXACTLY LIKE WHAT CUTTER DOES TO PEOPLE. Spy on them, and if he likes them, they get to join his special secret club. And if they don't like you...I think we both know what happens Doug. They DO have a concept of death. They just prefer not to call it that.

"Ideally isolation" Well at least they are semi-ethical.

"If they can't be isolated" "redistribution into different atoms" SEE I KNEW IT. They call it redistribution because they can't accept the moral idea of killing people.

"They are given a new purpose." Bob...Bob this is immoral. This is horrifying.

"Terminology is inadequate" his terminology is spot on Bob.

"Our interest in your species is not moral. It is technological" Yeah Bob, I think you made that VERY clear when you said you were willing to kill everyone on Earth if they didn't play nice.

You don't deserve our music Bob. Not one note. Which is...a sentence I never thought I would type as a reaction to this show, but here we are I guess.

They can turn back time, escape death, and traverse space, but they don't have music Doug! Most of their language isn't auditory. They have it, apparently, but not to the extent where they'd develop it.

Commander Zhung...valued the tech more than anything.

Oh. I'd like to have met Commander Zhung (I hope I'm spelling that right). She sounds...she sounds nice if that was her reaction to hearing music for the first time.

"You haven't figured out sound recording?" No, Doug. "The music?" There you go, Doug.

And um...I think the aliens might be more into the oldies and by oldies I mean the classics Doug. The old school classics. Stick to classical music. Not sure they're ready for rock and roll or rap or pop or country.

In time they'll learn more about each other, slowly. Okay...so they have some time. That's good. 14,000 YEARS? Oh no wonder they don't fear death. They live a ridiculously long time. And yeah Kepler is in for a treat.

And then...he woke up.

But um...where has he woke up? Near the star? But where is the ship?

"Everything is completely under control"

Why...why does Minkowski sound like a robot? I mean, she usually sounds pretty strict before she snaps at Doug for risking his life, but the actress sounds distinctly creepy here, I don't like it.

Creepy music? Hera struggling and begging him to run?

Oh no. Oh no no no no no...Cutter and Pryce came didn't they? Oh no...Oh no...

Oh Cutter, you bastard.

And I don't have time to listen to anymore tonight. Or this weekend, or for a while, gosh DANG IT, BUT THAT WAS SO GOOD.

Well, I hope you guys enjoy this. I have a lot of emotions so I'm gonna post this with no edits and scream about it in a discord chat somewhere. Bye!

14 notes · View notes

dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice · 1 year

Text

To the Shadows that Cry Witch /// Chapter 9

Hello! I've finally managed to access my documents which means I'm posting on time! I do apologise for the random POV change throughout, but it was the only way I could get what I wanted to write flowing properly. I also just want to say thank you to those who have given me support, you all mean the world to me. But other than that, enjoy! <3

Summary: Welcome to Middle Earth! We're currently in the Shire, though not for long. Dark times are ahead. Enjoy your stay!

Tags: Kíli x oc/reader - Fíli x oc (POV to be written soon) - Thorin's company x ocs/reader (platonic) - fluff - angst - SUPER slow burn - crack - Bagginshield

Word Count: 1716

Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of Minor and Major Injuries from last chapter.

Taglist - comment or message to be added!

PLEASE START FROM THE BEGINNING IF YOU HAVEN'T ALREADY OK LOVE U

Want some background music? Check out my Soundtrack Playlist!

Now available on Wattpad and AO3 (please let me know if links aren't working)

< Chapter 8 // Chapter 9 // Chapter 10 >

PART 1: Chapter 9 -

The Teletubbies could never

Numinous (Definition): Feeling both fearful and awed by what is before you. (Adjective / Origin: Latin / nu·mi·nous)

The place was almost identical to how we had pictured it.

Round hallways of cream framed by planks of dark, golden brown, with intricate furniture taking up every possible area, but nothing disorganised, each object having found it’s place.

“And you call me a hoarder.” I murmured to Kay as we both stared. She didn’t retort straight away this time, too busy absorbing the sight in front of us as I picked up and fiddled with some random object.

“Holy fuckkkk.” Was all that she eventually said.

“Excuse me!”

Damn, I almost forgot he was here. Bilbo seemed to find his voice quicker than earlier, marching over, a frown on his face at Kay’s choice of words. I made sure to discreetly slide the thing in my hand back where it was whilst watching the ordeal amusedly.

“I would very much appreciate it if you refrained from using words like that.” He lectured; one arm tucked behind his back as he wagged a finger at her. I snorted quietly at the sight of Kay looking down at him with wide, guilty eyes. And the fact that swear words existed here. “Such profound language will not fly here, especially with me.”

Looking down myself, it occurred to me that I didn’t realise that he would be this small. No matter how many times I stood a measuring tape next to me, I couldn’t really comprehend his size back home. If he headbutted me right now, his head of bouncy curls would only just reach the bottom of my ribcage. I mean I’m 5’9, so he was always going to be miniature next to me, but even comparing him to Kay, who only reached around my nose at 5’4, next to her this guy was the definition of tiny. He looked as though he couldn’t hurt a fly.

However, he most certainly had proof of denying that last statement, his feisty mothering personality most certainly making an impact, as levelled us with a stern gaze from two and a half feet below.

Oh right, we’d hardly spoken a word, let alone to him directly, and we were currently in his house!

“So sorry! I – uhhhh.” Kay began hesitantly, before elbowing me. I eyed her accusedly, but quickly looked back down at the hobbit.

“Oh! Uhm, I don’t suppose you know where we are?” I questioned.

He looked between us, perplexed as he was most likely trying to reason why two women were probably wandering unknowingly in the forest behind his hobbit hole. He had noticed earlier as he politely investigated our rucksacks, unbeknownst to us, that we carried no weapons, and the contents within didn’t look as if they would last them a day. We most certainly didn’t look like merchants or travellers. He didn’t even go on adventures and he knew us two weren’t cut out for travel.

“Why, you’re in the Shire of course!” He answered. “Now, what business do two big folk have coming to Hobbiton?”

“Um.. no business?” I replied.

“We’re lost!” Kay chimed in.

“Lost?” He frowned. “What on Middle Earth were you doing, getting yourselves lost?”

“Well… We went to visit a waterfall, near our home, and haven’t been able to find the way back since.” Explained Kay, figuring the truth was the best option.

“And we’ve errr— never been to or heard of the Shire,” I added, half-lying. “So we must be incredibly far away.”

“Never heard of the—! By Valar you must be far from home!” He spluttered, his slight irritation from them landing in his garden now replaced by a new wave of sympathy, as he realised these girls with their nervous eyes, muddy, ripped – also highly unusual – clothes, entangled hair, and just their overall dishevelled appearance, seemed to truly be a bit too far away from anywhere familiar for their liking. A slight twinge of guilt panged in his chest at his slightly unorthodox attitude earlier, clearly they were in some state of shock.

Taking in a bit more, he also noticed they seemed a lot more injured than he thought, watching as they’re expressions contorted uncomfortably whenever they moved, along with one of them nursing a bandaged hand that had blood seeping in some places.

As for me, I absorbed as much of his appearance as I could whilst he spoke. As aforementioned, he was unusually short, considering the faint lines on his face didn’t show signs of childhood youth, and observing further, I saw that he had the strangest of features. His ears, half hidden by his curly locks, were wide and pointy, reminding me that of an elf. I secretly gawked at his feet, because they were the most abnormally large feet I had ever seen, especially for someone who didn’t even look as if he hit 4ft. Not to mention they were incredibly hairy. Along with his handmade dressing gown, looking as if it was crafted from a quilt blanket from some charity shop.

How peculiar.

“Sooooo,” I began as a sudden thought came to mind, drawing Bilbo’s attention. “How did we end up in your house exactly?”

“Well,” he began, albeit slightly nervous. “I happened to find you both quite knocked out, and I wasn’t going to let you both freeze to death in the pouring rain, so I took the liberty of taking you both in and lending you the guest room.” He explained, waving his finger down the hall at the room we just came out of.

“So you’re saying you dragged two unconscious strangers… into your home?” Kay questioned, a slightly concerned look on her face.

“I mean, it’s not often that—that we get big folk around these parts.” he rambled as he shifted on his feet, feeling the tips of his ears turning pink under the pressure of our slight interrogating. “Certainly not ones that I-er, find falling from my roof.”

“Your roof?!?” We both replied, completely perplexed.

“Well by the sounds of it, you had quite the tumble!” He exclaimed with a slight laugh, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder at the front door. “Landed smack dab right in the middle of my bush, you did!”

“Oh, then where were we…” I trailed off.

My stare wandered from Bilbo to the door at the end of the corridor, and within a moment I was down the hallway, ducking under beams and through archways until I arrived at the door. It took me a second, but I managed to figure out the handle and it wasn’t long until I was in the fresh air.

Kay had followed, leaving the poor hobbit trailing after us in confusion. Coming to a stop next to me, we took in a sight we never thought would be possible to see.

Rolling green hills stretched in front of us and we stared. And stared. As if we haven’t done that enough already over the last day or so. And I then realised that it was the hobbit’s circular doors that I had tried to make out through the distance in the rain last night.

By the looks of it, and by some miracle, we had stumbled mindlessly into the bloody Shire. I mean, we would’ve known if we were in the goddamn Shire yesterday if it hadn’t been so DARK. Neither of us could even begin to describe how we felt, all I could do was really try my best not to scream or cry as I dug my fingers into my palms, and I could guess that Kay was having a similar reaction. Who wouldn’t? The Shire was literally the dream place, and we were stood right in the middle of it. Not the movie set, no, like, the genuine real Shire, and with, by the looks of it, real hobbits.

My mouth just hung open as I whipped my head around, feeling both amazement and excitement rise within me. “Whaaaaaatt the—” I started, but stopped myself from completing that sentence, feeling Bilbo’s stern glare on the back of my head.

Finally shaking myself out of it, I carried on with what I came out for. Scouring the ground, I spotted where we had landed, the now half-flattened bush twisted oddly and I gazed uncomfortably at the splots of our blood dotted around, the red shining in the morning light against the vibrant green.

Taking the path down to the closed gate, I stepped over it, not bothering to take the time to open it since it barely reached past my knees, though being careful with my injured ankle. Taking a few more steps back, I managed to be able to look up the hill Bilbo’s house resided in, following the trail of flattened wet grass and mud streaks until I zoned in on the top.

There was the grass bank we were on! Though now I realised it was a hill, with several chunks missing, along with the evidence of a miniature landslide.

Looking back at the two remaining confused at the door, I called out.

“We must’ve accidentally wandered here, and we’re travelling across the top of the hill when we fell!” I explained to Bilbo as I pointed. Kay raised her eyebrows and nodded in both agreement and realisation.

Now happy with our explanation, Bilbo clapped his hands to get our attention.

“Right!” He declared and we both looked down at him, jumping at his sudden switch. “Follow me!”

He waved his hands about, frantically beckoning us towards him as he led us back into Bag End. Me and Kay shared a quick glance, excited grins on our faces as we followed him back in. We both bent over at the low height of the door frame, me doing so the most, much to the chagrin of my ribs, but we were able to straighten out as the ceiling inside stood somewhat tall enough. However, I could still feel the ceiling brush the top of my head when I stood at full height, and I realised my time spent here would consist of me avoiding any ceiling fixtures along with the low, circular doorways. ‘But it was forever worth it, considering where I was currently’, I thought to myself, making sure to dodge the chandelier in front of me as we walked deeper into the hobbit hole.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Please let me know if you want to be added to the Taglist!

< Chapter 8 // Chapter 9 // Chapter 10 >

Return to Fic Masterlist

Return to Navigation

Can't wait to see you on the 19th May for Chapter 10! Also please comment if you want to be added to the Taglist <3

Taglist:

@opheliasdrowningg @mrsdurin @g1gglef1t @qmabailor @jupiterrdarling @emstar07 @geewoo-ko

(Message me if your tag isn’t working)

#the hobbit #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit x you #the hobbit x oc #kili x reader #fili #kili #fili x reader #hobbit x reader #fili x oc #kili x oc #thorins company x reader #thorins company #To the Shadows that Cry Witch #big soup #kili durin

21 notes · View notes

janfraiser · 2 months

Note

"This sounds so cheesy, but be my Valentine?" "It's March." for Ronon/Jen

This prompt made me laugh out loud so I just had to start with it. Set in the canon timeline but no specific episode tag

Jennifer is fighting the losing battle of trying to keep the latest research-worthy medical records organized the way she likes them when Ronon ducks into her back corner of the infirmary, dropping two chocolate bars in front of her. Her interest is instantly piqued, because those never cease to be a hot commodity, even during the weeks when things are calm enough that they can come back and forth from Earth. The two he’s offering are cookies ‘n’ cream and a 70% cacao dark, and her mouth begins to water.

“Jen.” Ronon is holding out a bouquet of daffodils and some smaller white and yellow flower she doesn’t recognize, and he has an adorable befuddled look on his face. “This sounds so… cheesy, but, uh. Be my Valentine?”

She opens and closes her mouth a few times, caught off guard by the amount of Earth slang happening. “Um. It’s March?”

“So?”

Jen has a sneaking suspicion Ronon has not grasped the entire concept of Valentines. She tries to tread carefully, not wanting her explanation to come out as a rejection. “Well, Ronon, Valentine’s Day is, like, a specific holiday. In February. It was a few weeks ago… remember when General O’Neill showed up and Colonel Carter put half a dozen marines on kitchen duty for asking why he was here?” Not that she blames the Colonel. She certainly wouldn’t care for military snooping if someone looked at her the way General O’Neill looked at Sam. Almost the way Ronon is staring at her now. Hm.

Ronon falters, the bouquet dipping as he lowers his outstretched arm. “Oh. I’m late, then. Sorry. Sheppard, uh, made it sound like a less specific form of courting, like it was just about being dramatic about showing interest in someone.” He meets her eyes, looking uncharacteristically nervous. “I thought you might like dramatic.”

Jen feels her cheeks heat at the idea of him thinking about how to impress her. "That's so sweet of you," she says, her voice cracking. She steps out from around the desk to take the flowers from him. "I'll get some water for these..." she ends up filling a beaker to temporarily put them in, but it's the best she has right now. "Thank you so much Ronon, I-- you didn't have to do that."

His face falls. "You're not interested."

"No! I mean, yes!" Jen buries her face in her hands. "Yes, Ronon, I'm interested. I've just... never had someone go to this much trouble for me. The chocolate is insane, and the flowers too, I mean, gosh, where did they come from?"

Ronon shrugs. "Some from the botanists, some were native wildflowers Teyla helped me find. I picked all yellow ones 'cause it's so dreary down here." He looks around. "No offense."

Jennifer licks her lips, her mouth feeling dry. Taking a chance, she steps closer and wraps her arms around his neck, even though she has to go up on her toes to do so. "I love them, Ronon," she says. "I definitely like you dramatic. But I-- I like you normal, too."

His eyes might as well be staring into her soul. "Dramatic is more fun." And then he leans down and kisses her so intensely that she doesn't even have the breath to gasp in surprise.

The kiss is insane. She's never felt anything like it. She understands now why romance novels are so fond of the term 'mind blowing'. She dearly hopes nobody gets injured in the next, like, hour, because she's going to need more than a minute to recover, or even better, to keep kissing Ronon. And the he slides his hands down to her butt and bites her lip and her mind just goes blank.

When they part, Jen closes her eyes for a minute, her head spinning. "Holy crap," she breathes.

Ronon strokes two knuckles down the line of her jaw. "You okay?"

"More than," Jen answers, sure she's grinning like an idiot as she looks up at him. "Um. Do you wanna... go for a walk?"

"Absolutely," he agrees. "I just want to spend time with you. Whatever you want to do."

"Well, you took away most of my brilliant ideas with all that kissing," she says, giggling a little, "but getting out of here seems like a good first step."

Ronon slides an arm around her waist, his hand dipping into the back pocket of her uniform pants. "Lead the way."

#sga #sga fic #jennifer keller #ronon dex #julie writes #ronon/jen #skipps tag #this was WONDERFUL to write thank you #enjoy the mini sam/jack moment hehe

4 notes · View notes

stuck-in-the-ghost-zone · 2 months

Note

MAC I HAVE A QUESTION. VERY IMPORTANT. what on EARTH is the suckening. i have seen posts on ur blog with blood and such tagged jrwi suckening and i am so so intrigued i love blood and gore and fucked up homoeroticism <3 pls pls pls tell me what the suckening is i am on my knees begging rn

oh dude holy fucking shit . so. u know i have been posting about jrwi it has been my main thing since like november. well. in case u do not know. its a dnd podcast run by charlie slimecicle, grizzlyplays, condifiction and bizly. their main campaign is called Riptide and its the one with the fish guy and all the pirates. WELL. they have a patreon and on their patreon they sometimes do mini campaigns! let me preface this by saying i have never even REMOTELY had an interest in paying for ANYTHING on patreon only because i fuckinf hate subscription payments and also im usually hesitant about paying money for fandom things especially in the content creator sphere etc etc you know how it is . HOWEVER. god their pther campaigns are so fucking worth it dude. the long running secondary main campaign thats been going along around the same time as riptide is called Prime Defenders and its a superhero themed one! i am just at the beginning of season 2 rn its so good william wisp my absolute beloved. (something else rlly cool is that they rotate being the dm for each of the campaigns and i think that makes each of them really fresh and unique bc everyone has a different dm style and a different way of telling a story. god i fucking love dnd and collaborative storytellint its incredible)

ANYWAY IM GRTTING SIDETRACKED. so during hiatuses from riptide and pd they sometimes run limited campaigns that only go for a handful of epsiodes. one of this is. regrettably. called the Suckening. its run using the vampires: masquerade ttrpg setup and ruleset which is. obviously. centered around vampires. CHARLIE SLIMECICLE is the dm and i fucking love it because god that man has a mind for horror. (he also ran blood in the bayou which was a 4-epispde mini campaign using call of cthulu and ive listened to it like 3 times now bc its got nasty bug body horror in it hooooly shit its so good) ANYWAY. um . its not *as* homoerotic as the fanart makes it out to be. just a warning. but there is a scene where two homies drink each others blood (one is a human one is a vampire. theres this think in the masquerade called blood bonding and its like. if you get a human to drink your blood on three separate occasions they become your servant basically. really homoerotic stuff in theory) and when the vampire is scolded for it he goes "well he already loves me. hes my boy" and they generally have that dynamic going on. fizzfangs i lvoe you.

ANYWAY UHHHHH. the first ... four? five? episodes are up for free on YouTube and theyve got a fun little visual novel style to them with the official character art :] heres a link 2 the first ep!!

youtube

the rest (there are 8 episodes as of rn!) are totally on patreon but if u end up listening and liking them enough to want the rest hit me up because ive got those download links i can share with u bc ur my beloved mutual and i love sharing things with my friends so they dont have to pay for them <3

#whiskey PLEASE if u end up listening. plead efor the love of god talk to me about jrwi #its been in my brain for so fucking long dude i love them so much. obsessed. unhealthily #gillion tidestrider has taken up permanent residence in my mind. hello gillion i love you.#if u want a breakdown of the player characters (and also soda) i would be happy 2 give them to u. but this ask was already so long #this is my can of worms you cannot open it ill be so annoying.#i was feeling a specific type of way last night which is why you suddenly saw an influx of fizzfangs posts im not sorry it will happen again #oh also grefgor is there hes my angel the light of my life. i fucking love everything about grefgor forever #from the top rope my prince!#hes like. u know when theres a prince and a knight and theyre a little gay about it. yeah.#i looooove grefgor.... i love shilo i love emizel i ESPECIALLY love soda #....arthur is there too i guess #hehe #friends!!!#asks #hi whsikey. im going to be so annoying to you

3 notes · View notes

mari-ocs · 1 year

Text

Pretty in Purple (Thomas Thorne/OC)

Summary: Octavia buys some lingerie to try and impress her boyfriend, but how will he react when he sees her wearing it?

Tags/Warnings: Smut (18+ ONLY). Modern/Alive!AU. Lingerie. Praise. Oral Sex (F!Receiving).

A/N: I was looking through a list of Kinktober prompts, and while I don't have the self-discipline to write 31 fics and wait until October to post them, I was inspired by a couple of them to write fics for my Canon/OC ships - the prompt for this one was "lingerie". Also, this is the kind of lingerie I was imagining Octavia wearing while I wrote this. The fic kind of just... ends, but I didn't want to push it, so I may end up adding more to it later.

Word Count: 1282

Octavia stared at herself in the mirror, anxiously studying her appearance. How was she supposed to know whether she looked completely ridiculous, or whether Thomas was going to like it? Why on earth had she let Kitty convince her to do this?

Just yesterday, Octavia had accompanied her best friend Kitty on a shopping trip, when Kitty had spied a lingerie shop and insisted they go inside. Octavia was hesitant, but Kitty ended up convincing her to come and look with her.

All of the lingerie was so pretty, if skimpy — though she supposed that was entirely the point — but Octavia’s eye was caught by one particular set. It was purple, a lacy bra with what looked a very short, nearly see-through dress attached to it, so you could see the panties beneath. She didn’t think that she was being obvious about staring at it, but apparently she was wrong since Kitty quickly interrupted her thoughts.

“Ooh, that one’s lovely,” Kitty said with a giggle, reaching out to touch the fabric on the mannequin. “It’d look great on you, and I bet Thomas would love it.”

“Y-you think so?” Octavia asked, feeling her face warm up at the idea of wearing this kind of thing for her boyfriend. “You really think Thomas would like it?”

“Definitely! You should buy it and surprise him!” Kitty suggested, seemingly extremely excited by the idea. Octavia was unsure of whether it was a good idea, but once again, Kitty managed to convince her — and they were soon exiting the shop with that exact lingerie set in a bag.

And now, the next day, Octavia was planning on surprising Thomas with what she had bought, but she was beginning to think twice about it. What if it didn’t really suit her? And why wasn’t Kitty here to calm her nerves and convince her that everything was going to be okay (well, to be fair, it would be a bit awkward for Kitty to be present)?

Suddenly a sense of dread washed over Octavia, and she felt like she needed to take this off right now and hide it under the bed somewhere, or perhaps burn it to ashes. This had been a terrible idea, even if Kitty had meant well. She turned away from the mirror to begin undressing, when the bedroom door opened.

“Octavia,” said a voice, breathless with disbelief, and Octavia turned to see Thomas standing there, his eyes travelling up and down her body.

“Thomas!” Octavia squeaked, bringing her arms up to cover her chest. “I-I didn’t realise that you were back yet…”

“I only just got in.” Thomas closed the distance between them, taking one of Octavia’s wrists and lowering her arm so she was no longer covering herself. The other soon followed, and Thomas’ eyes settled on her cleavage for a moment. “Where did you get this?”

“Um, from the shopping centre yesterday… I thought I, um… I thought I might surprise you…” Octavia looked up at him, face flushing at the sight of his blown-out pupils. “Does it… does it look alright?”

“Are you joking? You look perfect, absolutely stunning!” Thomas wrapped his arms around her, pressing their bodies close together, and she was able to feel the evidence that he certainly wasn’t lying. One of his hands moved to grip the edge of the fabric of the back of her skirt, running his fingers over it. “I mean, you always look stunning, but…”

Bashfully, Octavia averted her gaze, a small smile gracing her lips. It was certainly a relief to know that Thomas was impressed, and that she hadn't wasted money and embarrassed herself. "Thank you." She soon felt Thomas' hand gently grasp her chin, tilting it upwards so that she was once again making eye contact with him.

"Perhaps... you would allow me to prove to you how wonderful you look?" Thomas grinned, and Octavia felt her heartbeat quicken at the look in his eyes. Even though this had been the whole point of putting on the lingerie, it was still quite thrilling to know that her plan had worked.

Octavia nodded, and before she knew it, Thomas' lips were on hers, his kisses already overflowing with passion as he began to back her toward the bed. Her arms came up to rest about his neck, and Thomas' hands gripped her waist.

Once they were at the bed, Thomas broke the kiss, taking the moment to lift Octavia up and place her down carefully on the mattress. Only a few moments later, Thomas was on the bed too, situating himself above her with all of his weight on his hands, allowing him to continue to admire her beneath him.

"You are so beautiful, my dear. Utterly perfect," he declared, before leaning his head down to attach his lips to her neck. Thomas gently kissed and nipped at the sensitive flesh, relishing in the quiet gasps that passed Octavia's lips. Slowly and steadily he moved downwards, making sure to kiss every inch of skin before settling at her cleavage. "The most beautiful woman on Earth."

Thomas peppered kisses against the tops of her breasts, as his hands caressed her thighs beneath the skirt, making her squirm beneath him and hope that he would hurry up a little. He then moved to mouth at her nipples through her bra, the thin fabric not obstructing the feeling of his lips against her.

"You are like Venus in the flesh," Thomas mumbled, and it seemed that he was feeling just as impatient as Octavia, because he decided to skip worshipping her stomach with kisses and move his head straight between her thighs. His eyes flickered up to her face for a moment, the question he was asking obvious to her without him saying a word.

Once again, Octavia nodded, and Thomas got straight to work, pulling her panties to the side and licking a long, slow stripe from her entrance to her already swollen clit. Octavia let out a shuddering moan, gripping the duvet beneath her in her hands as Thomas continued working magic against her with his tongue.

Octavia's quiet whines and whimpers were like the most beautiful symphony to Thomas' ears, and at that moment he had but one goal: to hear more of them. He alternated between licking her clit and gently taking it between his lips, following whatever method elicited the most response. His need to hear her more and more grew, leading him to bring his fingers into the mix, slowly inserting a single digit into her dripping entrance.

Thomas' fingers crooked against her sweet spot, causing Octavia to cry out sharply. Another long finger joined the first, and he could feel her fluttering and tightening around them, wanting nothing more than to witness her release.

"Come for me, darling, I want to feel you come for me," Thomas told her as best as he could without taking his mouth off of her for too long, and it seemed that was all the encouragement Octavia needed to allow herself to fall over the edge. She practically sobbed out Thomas' name as she came all over his fingers, and he gladly guided her through her orgasm, pleasuring her until she was spent.

Thomas pressed kisses against the inside of Octavia's legs as she came down from her high, whispering quiet praises after each one; how beautiful she was, how sweet she tasted against his tongue, how the sound of her moaning his name was more melodic than any song he could hope to hear. His loving words seemed endless, and if Octavia would allow him, he would carry on saying them for the rest of his life.

#thomas thorne x oc #octavia x thomas #octavia (ghosts oc)#bbc ghosts oc #oc x canon fic #oc x canon #oc x canon smut #writing #nsft text #original character #original character x canon #fandom oc

7 notes · View notes