#the hand not being fully in the socket bothers me but this was my favorite photo of the few i had sooo

[ghostlychief]

Don’t Blame Me

Pairing: MW2 Ghost x f!reader

Summary: They say love makes you crazy, so can they really blame you?

Warnings: mentions of blood, knife usage (stabbing, stabbing people’s eyes, eyes being ripped out of socket); mentions of combat fighting; hints of torture and injuries from torture; typical MW2 lore

NSFW, MINORS DNI: blowjob, fingering, eating pussy; missionary; creampie; aftercare

WC: 7k+ (IK IT’S LONG)

A/N: hello hello! here is the long awaited ghost fic that’s been in development for quite awhile. Thank you so much for participating in my pole, and i hope you enjoy!!! I really let myself indulge in more of the gore this time around, so please read with caution if that kind of content bothers you.

ENJOY🫶🏻🖤

--

You didn’t know blood could be this thick.

But, as you cut through the swarm of your opponents, you really don’t care how much of it gets on your clothes, seeps into your crevasses, and splashes on your face. No, you really don’t give a shit. Your only objective is to get to Ghost, and quickly.

All you see is red, literally.

Before you even fully process what you’re doing, the knife in your hand has already sunk into a neck, blood spurting everywhere, drenching you further.  You carry on, the one person you’re trying to reach at the forefront of your mind.

Should you have felt some remorse for the lives you ended? Probably, but it was like you brain was turned off. Actually, no, that’s incorrect. It was like your brain was wired differently, like it was wired to focus on one thing and one thing only: retrieve Ghost.

You can’t recall when you two got separated, or when he got captured in your last mission. All you remember is the pain you felt when you noticed he’d been taken.

You could blame yourself for his capture, but you decided to turn your fury towards someone else rather than yourself. You realized over the years that self-loathing wasn’t very efficient. It tends to waste time.

It was easy after all; it’s not hard to hold contempt towards the people that stole your lover away from you.

This was their doing. I’m only showing them the consequences of their actions.

It’s what you had to tell yourself. Otherwise, you didn’t see how you were going to come out of this alive. You had to redirect your rage, your frenzy. You had to channel it through your veins, making sure it heated you, and coursed through in a way that burned.

It had to be this way. It was the only way to help you be relentless against your opponents.

You were pretty proud of your knife skills; it was your favorite weapon after all. You always made sure to carry at least two with you at all times.

Today, you strapped on four and you were lucky, since you lost your first two about ten minutes ago. They were no doubt lodged into someone lying on the ground, pierced through their eye. That was your sweet spot, never failing you to effectively take down your opposition.

By this point, it felt like you had sliced your way through a hundred men and yet you still haven’t reached the door of the facility Ghost was being held in. Hope was on the horizon though because you could faintly make out the top of the door frame, which egged you on further. Your muscles worked tirelessly as your arms continued to swing at the men attacking you.

Occasionally, you would move your arms in a quick jabbing motion, repeatedly stabbing the opponent in the stomach and then you would land one last finally blow to their eye, your signature move some would say.

One of the downsides of this move was that sometimes, it took a lot of strength to pull your knife back out of the eye (hence your missing knives), which resulted in pulling their eyeball clear and out of its socket.

Not the best outcome of this tactic, but it is what it is.

Unfortunately, for your last victim, this very thing happened. You were thankful when his screams died down quickly.

You had a moment to catch your breath, hanging your head, quivering hands resting on your upper thighs. You looked up just in time to see someone charging at you, yelling, and with their own knives in their hands.

You noticed that they were the only one alive left outside.

One more. I can take care of him.

You swiftly moved to the side, but could hear the whisp of his blade cutting through the air. That was no good- he got too close.

Time to fix that.

Since you were so deft in your knife wielding ability, you also had a knack of being light on your feet and quick. Something that certainly benefited you.

While the man was no doubt taller and heavier than you, you were faster and anticipated his movements with ease. Sooner than later he too was on the ground, finished, with a sliver blade in his left eye, your red hand-grip the only thing you could see sticking out of his head.

You decided to leave it there, as a parting gift of course.

That’s where you got your nickname, Red Eye, seeing that your weapon of choice was wrapped in a blood-red grip that blended in with the blood that seeped out of your victims’ eye sockets. You thought the nickname was silly at first, but you just grew to accept it over the years. What can you say, you like the fancifulness of it every once in a while.

While you always had reputation, this name made your reputation grow into something almost bigger. While your peers and opponents knew you as the women with the red soaked blades, this name gave you a more, how should you put it?

Eerie reputation.

After stepping over your last remaining victim, you finally reach the double doors, leading into the building Ghost is being held captured in.

Before you entered though, you heard a voice through your comms. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Red Eye.”

Fuck me.

You hear Soap over the comms, “Wait for backup. We’re detecting three bodies via heat signatures”

You let out a groan, but made sure that your comms didn’t pick up on that.

“We don’t have time for that. I need to engage now.”

“You will do no such thing.” You hear Price’s voice cut through, stopping you from opening the doors.

“It’s a miracle you made it this far without any back up. Don’t test my patience.”

Ok, so you may have left without anyone knowing and got a two-hour head start before the rest of your team caught up to your location.

It’s just- they were taking, what it seemed like, forever to develop a plan to get your boyfriend out of captivity. You get it, logistics need to be air tight. But this was Ghost, Simon. Your Simon out there.

You knew he could handle what was given to him, but that didn’t ease any worry or hurt left in your heart, and it made you see red with anger.

That’s how your more or less ended up here, alone, slicing through about 30 men all by yourself. Not the smartest move you admit, but you had to get to Simon. You knew his time was running down, like a sand timer, each minute gone left him more perilous than before.

You were definitely going to get your ass kicked tomorrow at debrief.

You were just about to go in, thinking to hell with listening to orders, when you hear at least two sets of feet jogging across the gravel.

“Jesus, Red Eye. Leave any for the rest of us?”

You just roll your eyes at Soap, ignoring his comment. “C’mon guys, we need to hurry. Let’s take the last of the fuckers out and get Ghost back home.”

“Roger that.”

You go in first taking point, Soap and Kӧnig flanking you.

This time around, you have your handgun out, but your knife is safely held with your left hand, resting on the underside of the muzzle.

The hallway is dark, but it’s to your advantage. You think you see a light source coming from the hallway on the left that you’re coming up to, so you raise your left hand and point in that direction, signaling to Soap and Kӧnig.

This is where you come across the first person.

We must be close.

You let Kӧnig take him out. He comes up swiftly behind him and locks an arm around the man’s throat. First knocking him out, but then ultimately, finishing the job.

You three continue down the long corridor. They seem to go on forever. Sweat drips down your temple, and you hastily swipe it away, not wanting anything to obstruct your vision.

As you come closer to the end of the hallway, you start to hear something.

You raise your hand to signal Soap and Kӧnig to stop, and turn around so they can see you raise your pointer finger up to your lips.

You listen for the sound again, and you realize what it is this time.

Your blood runs cold, and goosebumps form on your arms, freezing you in place as you listen to the deafening sound that doesn’t seem to stop.

Ghost is screaming.

You don’t think you’ve ever heard him be this loud, let alone sound so full of pain. You have to pull it together though, you’re almost to him.

You continue on, making a right this time, and Ghost’s screams become louder. It’s good and bad of course. Good because he’s near you and you’re close, bad because he hasn’t stopped screaming.

You wonder how long this has been going on for.

You feel a heavy weight float down your chest, that takes its resting place in your heart. You find it hard to breath, and it takes every fiber in your being not to go into full panic mode.

You get closer and closer to the room Ghost is in, but you don’t hear him anymore. There is no one outside guarding, so the remaining two people must be inside with him.

Your stomach churns over.

You hadn’t realized it, but you fell behind both Soap and Kӧnig, but without a beat, they took your spot at point, leading you to the door.

They bust in first and immediately go after the two men that were standing by Ghost, who is strapped to a chair. It’s your job to get Ghost free of his confines.

But when you look at him, you freeze all over again.

He’s slumped in the chair, hands and feet bound by thick ropes that are no doubt leaving crude burns in his skin.

His pants have rips and holes in them and from further examination, you realize it’s from cigarette burns and cuts from blades.

You can’t see any damage on his arms but you’re worried what his shirt is hiding on his torso. You realize he’s slumped because he’s knocked out cold, probably from a concussion. But you know he’s alive because you see the slight rise and fall of his chest. It’s ever so faint, but it’s there.

You look around the room and notice a medium size table with different kinds of weapons and tools splayed out along the length of the table. You notice some have dried blood on them, while other tools are still dripping red. Rags litter the table as well. They’re dirty and also have traces of lingering blood.

Once again, you feel the embers burning through you, and you feel like you’re about to explode into a fury of rage.

You turn towards the two men that Soap and Kӧnig took down.

The two bodies lie on the floor and before you realize what you’re doing, you crouching over the first man, and with your blade, you start stabbing both of his eyes, switching on and off between the left and right. While you do this, a blood curdling scream leaves your lips.

It’s both terrifying and heartbreaking; a fine line dances between the two.

You snarl at the now eyeless man before you crawl your way over to his counterpart and release the same anger and revenge onto him. Your screech never faltering.

You don’t realize what you’re doing until you feel strong arms come up behind you and lift you off the dead man.

You start fighting their hold and it’s then when you start crying, your scream turning into a sob. The exhaustion finally getting to you.

“We got him. He’s going to be ok; it’s going to be ok.”

That’s the last thing you hear before everything goes black.

--

When you wake, you notice you’re lying on something soft. When you come to, you realize you’re on a bed, under a thin layer of covers and your head rests on a firm pillow.

You squint because the lights are overly bright but when they adjust, you notice the infamous florescent glow, meaning, you’re in the medical ward of the base.

You sit up, and you notice no aches or pains outside of your regular soreness you felt after fighting for an extended period of time. Your head also hurts, but you don’t really care.

You want to know where Simon is.

You notice a nurse a few feet away and you wave her over.

“Excuse me, but why am I in here?”

She gives you a tight-lipped smile. If you didn’t know any better, you would say that she’s nervous. She fidgets with her hands before answering you.

“Well miss, you fainted on your last mission. They brought you here to be examined.”

She moves over to the end of your bed and takes out the clipboard that resided in the pocket.

“Here, let’s see.” She looks over your paper before looking back at you, still with a trace of uneasiness.

“Seems like everything is OK. Your vitals are normal, and you have no major injuries, just some light bruising on your arms and hands. You are welcome to leave when you want.”

You glance down and notice the light purple that spans across your knuckles.

Before she can scurry away, you ask, “Wait, where are they keeping Ghost?” You shake your head, “I mean, Simon Riley.”

A look of pity crosses her face before she answers, “He’s in Ward C miss; the intensive care unit.”

She leaves before you can ask her anything else.

What the fuck was her problem?

You jump out of your bed, but immediately regret that decision when your head starts to throb right above your left eye.

Now is not the time for a migraine.

You make sure you have all of your belongings before you rush over to Ward C. Right before you are about to enter through the doorway, Price comes through and stops you with a hand placed on your shoulder.

He looks down at you – you’re really getting tired of being the shortest on the team- and squeezes your shoulder gently.

“Before you go in there, guns-a-blazing, he’s doing ok, alright?”

You just stare up at him and nod. Although it was good to hear Simon was doing ok, whatever the hell that meant, you still had so much anger left in you. So much you were hoping that just the sight of Simon healing would help quell you.

You walk past Price, a determined spring in your step, ready to be reunited with Simon. It’s been so long since you’ve last seen him.

Three weeks.

Three weeks he was gone, and you thought he was never coming back.

The intensive care unit is unusually empty so it’s not hard to find which bed Simon is occupying.

You quietly walk up to the side of the bed, and you are finally by his side.  

“You don’t have to tiptoe around me bug, I’m awake.”

Simon’s voice startles you and your head turns towards his. You notice his left arm is in a sling but a lazy smile graces his lips.

If you weren’t in a medical facility on base, out in the open to the prying eyes of the public, you would have immediately burst out crying just at the sound of his voice.

Instead, you let out a breathy, “I thought I lost you.”

Unlike Simon, your face has no hint of happiness. Your lips are slightly turned down, quivering and your eyes start to well up with tears, but you will them not to drop.

Your hands are balled up in fists but you bring yourself back down. You are here for him after all; it’s not the other way around.

You slowly unclench your fists and then gingerly sit down on the side of Simon’s bed, right at his hip.

That’s when you bring your hand up to trace down the side of his face, feeling the familiar stubble that never fails to tickle you when he kisses you.

Your hand comes back up to rub his cheek and you say again, “I thought I lost you, Simon.”

He brings his hand up to cup yours that still rests on his face. “I know, I know. But I’m here, and I’m ok.”

“Are you though?” You can’t fight it anymore, the tears stream down your face, their streaks burning your skin.

His hand that was resting on yours comes up to rub your head. “Promise.”

After that, you and Simon laid in his hospital bed for the remainder of the day. He fell in and out of sleep, but you were just thankful he was alive and breathing next to you.

--

It’s been about three weeks since Simon’s been back. He’s out of his sling and most of his bruises and wounds have healed. Expect for the deeper lacerations on his thighs. He also has some scarring from the cigarette butts. But over all, you would say he’s doing pretty alright, all things considered.

You’re both currently on base, since you needed to attend multiple meetings today, and you’re eating lunch in the cafeteria.

“So, I heard you went kind of, feral, when you came to rescue me.” Simon has an innocent look on his face, but you see him trying to hid his shit eating grin.

You narrow your eyes at him, “And who did you hear that from?”

He just shrugs nonchalantly, “No one in particular.”

You scoff. Fucking Soap.

You knew he must have told someone, if not Simon himself. He was quite the gossiper.

What a fucker.

“Well, did you want me to ask them to be friends?”

Simon lets out a low laugh. “That would have been funny.” You look up at him and see his eyes are lit with amusement.

You let out a sigh, but a ghost of a smile dances across your lips. You know he’s feeling better since he’s joking around.

--

Another three weeks has passed and you find yourself in the typical meeting room. The one you all use before a mission. That means this will be your last debrief before you jet off to where ever the location is in a few days.

The meeting goes well up until the part where Price says “And Ghost, you will wait here at the rendezvous point.”

You interrupt him, “Wait what?”

The room goes silent as you stare down Price.

“There’s no way Simon is going on this mission. Nope. Not happening.”

“Well, y/n, you don’t really have a say in this. Do you?”

The trace of condescendence has you short circuiting but you keep your cool. You glare at Price, “If Simon’s going on this mission, then count me out.” You don’t notice the slip of his name. Usually at work you call Simon Ghost or LT, but never Simon.

You storm out of the room and head back to your desk to gather your things to leave.

You hear someone lightly jogging behind you, and you have a hunch about who it is that followed you out.

You feel a hand softly grab your elbow and you hear Simon plead, “Wait.”

You sigh and turn around. Looking up at him you confess, “Look, I need to cool off for a bit. We can talk at home, ok?”

You see Simon contemplate whether to let you go or not, but he just gives you a curt nod. He gives your arm a gentle squeeze where his hand still rests, “Ok, see you at home.” --

You basically scowl your whole way home. Listen, you know you have some slight anger issues, but you’re working on it.

You get home after the long day and quickly make way to the shower, needing to feel the hot water run down your head and back. That will calm me, you think.

Once you step out of the shower, you already feel better. You’re clean, and you smell like your favorite soap. You change and do your normal routine after a shower then head to the kitchen to make yourself a warm cup of tea.

Evening tea is one of your favorite treats and it always seems to quell your nerves. Because that’s what you are right now, nervous.

You don’t want to fight with Simon, no, not at all. But you can’t help but feel frustrated at Price, and subsequently him, for deciding that he’s ready to go back in the field. Because from your perspective he’s not. Hell, it’s barley been a month and a half, and you think he needs more time to cope with what happened to him.

Sure, he’s seeing the base’s therapist, and he’s doing everything he can to keep his physical body healthy, yet you can’t help but the ball of worry that has formed in the pit of your stomach, fester. Something keeps nagging at you, and you don’t know what it is.

You just don’t understand how Simon can bounce back so quickly.

Luckily you didn’t have to wait too long for Simon to get home. And when he does, you find yourself perking up on the couch when you hear him come through the door.

He lets out a soft “Hey,” in which you respond just as softly back.

“I’m going to go shower and wash up, but then we can talk, yeah?”

You give him a nod, but also confirm, “Sure, that sounds good.”

His shower felt like eternity, but you know you only feel this way because you’re on edge. Again, you don’t want to fight with him. You just, you love him so much, you can’t stand to lose him again. No, it can’t happen again.

You hear soft footsteps on the tile as Simon makes his way through the kitchen to the living room where you’re still seated on the couch.

You look up at him before he sits down and grant him a quiet smile, and reach out your hand to his. His large hand grasps yours in his, and his thumb traces your knuckles. He then sits down next to you, and now his fingers are tracing over yours, relaxing you just a smidge.

You can feel his warmth radiating off of you instantly, and it takes ever thing in you to not glue yourself to his side.

You both slightly turn to each other, and funnily enough you each say “So,” at the same time.

You giggle and he lets out a low chuckle that makes your insides swarm. You miss him.

“You go first, bug.” The hand that has been tracing yours pulls you closer to him, and he embraces you in a warm hug as you both sit on the couch.

Before you start, you simply just bask in Simon’s embrace, not wanting to let go just yet. You begrudgingly pull away, but still keep your fingers connected in their little dance.

“I’m sorry for storming out today at our meeting. That was unprofessional, and uncalled for, but I just don’t see why you have to go on our next mission.”

“Aren’t you still hurting from what happened to you on the last one? I guess I just don’t understand why you want to go back in the field so soon.”

There’s a pause before you add, “How do you know you’re ready to go back?”

One thing you appreciate about Simon is that he never interrupts you, and he always lets you finish your complete thought before adding his.

When he can tell you’re done, he sighs and says, “Because, y/n, that’s what we’re trained for.”

“I wouldn’t have this job if I couldn’t put the pieces back together after every mission.”

You guess that makes sense, but you’re still concerned about him.

“Listen, I get that, I really do. I guess what I want to make sure of is that you’re actually doing ok and that you’re working through whatever happened to you.”

He’s told you the gist of what happened, and he confides in you whenever he feels like he needs the extra support, but you know that there are some things he’s still hiding. Which, you’re not going to push him to tell you, but you hope at some point he does.

He gives you a slight smile, “That’s why I love you. You’re always looking out for me, and I appreciate it so much, but I’m really doing fine, ok?”

He shifts so he’s leaning in closer to you, and now it’s his turn to cup your jaw with his hand. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, and you nod at his answer. “I love you too.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

You grant him a smile in return and then he pulls you in for a kiss.

--

The kiss deepens and before you know it, you’re straddling his lap, one leg on either side of his thick torso. You’re a mess as you straddle him, and you wrap your arms around his neck, wanting to be closer to him, if even possible.

He wraps his arms around you and subconsciously pulls you closer to him. His large hands span across your back as he holds you close to him. Your center brushes against his you let out a moan when you feel this contact. You run your hands down his neck and shoulders, feeling the taught muscles underneath his black t-shirt. As you rock your hips against his, you hear him let out a moan, which only eggs you on further.

“Fuck, y/n. Keep doing that again.” His hands travel down to hold you hips, almost as if he’s trying to help you move against him.

Your hands move in tandem and they come to rest at the base of his t-shirt, your fingers playing with the hem. You’re itching to take it off of him, and he seems to understand what you want, because he pauses kissing you to help you take off his shirt.

Now shirtless, you bring your hands up to his shoulders and then trail them slowly down his torso, nails ever so slightly scraping against his skin. You can feel each ridge and bump from his abs before your reach the hem of his sweatpants. Your fingers graze over his happy trail before you start toying with his sweats.

You run one finger along the hem of his grey sweats, then ever so slightly, your finger enters his pants, you run your finger under his sweatpants. You’re teasing him, and you can tell he’s getting antsy by the way he shifts as your finger runs along the band of his briefs.

As you continue to tease him, you trail or lips over his chest. Your lips wrap around one of his nipples, the unpierced one, and you softly bite him before you run your tongue over his nipple, suckling.

He moans out a gentle “Fuck,” and one of his hands comes up to grasp your hair.

You move over to his other nipple, the pierced one to be exact, and you once again softly bite him then suck. You make sure to spend your time here because you know this is one of Simon’s favorite thing during foreplay. Once he’s taken care of there, you continue to trail your lips down his abdomen, and now you’re finally at his center.

You get off his lap and sit on the floor in-between his spread legs. You place your hands right above his knees, and you look up at him with your swollen lips.

“You’re going to be good for me tonight, right?” You rub your thumbs in soft circles on his legs, waiting for his answer.

You see him gulp as he looks down at you, and then his lips quirk, in a smirk.

“What do you say?” Your hands stop their ministrations and you tilt your head, understanding what he wanted.

“Please.”

His smirk deepens, “Good girl.”

At his greenlight, you come up on your knees so that you can reach him better. Your trail the hem on his sweatpants one last time before you start pulling them down off his hips, making sure that his briefs come off too. He lifts his butt to help you, and now you’ve successfully taken his pants and underwear off.

You greedily take in the size of him. His dick is hard and slightly curved as it lays against his stomach. You wrap your hand around him, he’s so thick that your hand doesn’t close around it the whole way. You pump him slowly, as you look at him. His eyes are blown out and he leans his head back against the couch. You smile at him before you lower yourself. You link one strip up his dick, making him squirm underneath you. You then you bring up your hand to start pumping him. As your hand moves up and down, your lips come up to kiss the to crown of his dick.

You look up at him again, locking eyes and then wrap your lips around him. Once your lips make contact, he lets out a low moan. You continue to sink down on him. You move your head up and down, trying to adjust to his size. The part of his dick that you can’t fit into your mouth, you cover with your hand, pumping him up and down.

Your hair falls around you, and at this, Simon carefully takes your hair into one hand, putting it into a makeshift ponytail.

“Fuck, baby that feels so good.”

You continue to suck on him, hollowing out your cheeks. You know he’s close when you see his abs start to clench and his legs start to stiffen.

The moans he lets out has your getting wetter and wetter by the minute, and you squirm, trying to ease some of the pent-up tension you’re feeling.

Your unoccupied hand comes down to play with his balls, gently squeezing them and that is what does him in. He lets out a louder groan and you feel his warm come shoot down your throat.

You keep your mouth on him, cleaning him up before you slowly take yourself off him. You wipe your lips with the back of your hand and you sit back on your heels, smiling at him.

He runs a hand through his hair, and lets out a low chuckle.

“Damn, you really did a number on me there.” You laugh yourself and you come up to the couch, sitting beside him so you can turn his head to give him a lingering kiss.

You give him a few pecks, “What can I say, I’m good at what I do.” Your eyes are bright as you look at him, and his hold the same amount of affection and adoration.

His low voice cuts through you, “Now it’s my turn to make you feel good, alright?”

You give him a brief nod, “Please.”

He pulls you back into him, and then starts to push you back so you’re lying on the couch under him. He’s kissing you frantically now, his tongue entering your mouth.

“Take your pants off for me, would you?” His hands make their way to take your shirt off, and while he does that, you slip out of your shorts, underwear gone with them.

“Thank you, baby.”

He keeps kissing you as his hand comes down to your center. He first cups you, and then brings his pointer finger to rub against your clit. As his pointer is stimulating your clit, his middle and ring finger run along your slit, gathering up all the wetness that formed over the course of the last half hour.

You see him bring his coated fingers up to you. “Taste for me,” he breathes. And without any hesitation, you suck on his fingers, tasting yourself, making sure to look at Simon while you lick his fingers. He watches you with fire in his eyes.

“Good girl.”

You’ll never get tired of hearing him call you that.

He brings his hand back down to your pussy and then enters two fingers in you, stretching you out deliciously. You whine as his fingers enter you; they feel so good inside you.

Luckily for you, your boyfriend has quite large hands, which equated to long, thick fingers, and he always knew what to do with them.

He starts picking up the pace, and the squelching sound his fingers make is deafening, and the only thing you can focus on as they move in and out of you.

You didn’t even have to ask before he’s adding in a third. You feel yourself clench around him, and you’re already losing your mind and he hasn’t even properly fucked you yet.

He’s hitting you right in your sweet spot, and your hands come up to hold him by the shoulders. He moves down ever just a hair, and you’re not sure why until he lowers his head. He spits, and then connects his lips with your clit, moving his tongue around your sensitive bud.

The addition to his lips on your clit has you seeing stars and you start to feel that familiar build up. You tumble over the edge, a bright warmness spreading through you.

Simon removes his lips and fingers from you and you’re both panting heavily. He’s bracing himself with one arm as he looks down at you.

Your hair is messily strewn across the couch behind you, and your eyes are bright. Your chest moves up and down as you try and catch your breath. You smile up at him, this time your teeth showing.

He gives you a peck on your lips. “How was that?”

You sigh, “Amazing.”

Another kiss is pressed on your lips and you can faintly taste yourself on him.

“I want to properly fuck you, and that can’t be done on the couch. Bedroom, yeah?”

You nod up at Simon acquiescing to his suggestion.

“Alright, up you go then.”

He swiftly pulls you up and off the couch into his arms. You squeal at the sudden movement but it turns into giggles as Simon carries you bridal style to the bedroom.

“Wow, my night in shining armor.” You lazily loop your hands around his neck as he leads you both to the room. He just laughs at your statement.

Once there, he gently deposits you on the bed, and wastes no time picking up where you left off.

He crawls on top of you and starts to kiss you up your stomach and chest, finally reaching your mouth. His kiss leaves you burning, and your hands eagerly reach for him, pulling him down further into you.

You wrap your legs around his torso, and feel his dick brush up against your center, hard once again.

He pulls away to look at you, eyes connecting. “Do you need any more prep?” He brings a hand up to brush away some of the flyway hairs that covered your face. His hand lingers, cupping your head, and his thumb brushes your cheek in a soothing back and forth motion.

Smiling you answer, “No, I’m good.”

“Ok.”

Bracing himself above you, his hand trails down to grasp his dick. He gives it a few pumps before running it along your slits, and lightly taps it on your overly sensitive clit.

He then slowly guides it into you, the stretch much bigger than what his fingers could offer. You both let out a sigh as he fully sinks into you, eyes connecting at this very moment. Once he’s fully inside, he gives you some time to adjust, his hand moving to hold your hips, thumb moving in circles.

“You okay?” He asks, looking down at you. You look up at him, “Yeah, I’m good, you can start moving.”

At your consent for him to move, he does just that. He pulls his hips back before he pushes them back into you. He starts off with a steady pace, not too fast, not too slow. You’re surprised he’s not pounding into you relentlessly like he usually does. This time his thrusts are much more calculated, calm, like he’s got all the time in the world. The slower drag of him against your walls makes you roll your eyes back, reveling in the feeling of him.

It’s only him, that’s all you can think about, all you can feel. You let go of the heaviness you’ve been feeling to focus on being with him now. It’s not hard, he makes you feel like you’re floating anyways.

Your fingers run down his face, down his shoulders, taking in as much as you can of him. Then you run your hand down his tattooed arm, mapping the intricate details of his tattoos and running over the protruding veins due to him propping himself up. Simon watches you as you run your hand across him.

He gives you a particular harsher thrust, eyes trained on you when you moan and clutch his arm a harder. He picks up the pace just a little, loving the way you look beneath him, taking his cock so well.  

“Fuck. Right there, baby,” you breathe. He hits that same spot again, but this time you move up the bed a little from the force of his hips. Your breasts jiggle as you shift up the bed and Simon’s eyes are travel to your chest. He brings his hand up to up one of them, rolling his thumb over your nipple. Simon keeps this faster rhythm with his hips, slamming into your now quivering pussy, showing you no mercy as he pounds into you with force.

His thrusts are powerful that leave the breath knocked out of you.

He removes his hand from your breast to wrap it around your leg. He positions your leg so it’s resting on his shoulder, now giving him a new angle into you. This position allows you to feel him move even deeper inside you, now feeling the tip of his dick hit your cervix, which makes you whine. His thrusts continue their hard motions, but his pace starts to slow down.

Simon’s hips start to falter a little bit in their smooth rhythm, a telltale sign he’s close. At his praising, you unconsciously clench around him, making him breathe out a silent curse as his hand tightens on your leg that is propped up on his shoulder.

“Si, I’m close,” you whine. You feel so full, so consumed by all things Simon, the only thing you can focus on is him and the building orgasm that threatens to spill over.

“Me too.” Simon removes his hand that’s been propping your leg up and moves it down to your clit, and starts to rub slow circles on the bud, making you squirm. You bring your leg down from his shoulder to wrap it around his torso once again pulling him closer to you. You drag your hands down and up his back as his thumb continues to abuse your clit. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

With a few more thrusts from Simon and the quick movements of his finger on your clit, you feel the coil in you snap, and it snaps hard. Your orgasm washes over you, a blinding white light that makes you feel like you’re going to pass out, and you call out his name one last time.

Your eyes squeeze shut and you see stars, as your pussy clamps down hard on Simon’s dick. He’s a moaning mess above you as he feels your orgasm that’s traveling through your body, your walls contracting around him.

He curses out a soft “fuck baby” and then he’s following just a hair behind you, traveling over his precipice as well, emptying inside of you. You feel his come paint your walls as your pussy continues to clench around him, as you ride out your second orgasm of the night.

He collapses on top of you but is careful not to crush you completely. You’re breathing heavy as you both come down from your highs, both sweaty messes.

He lifts his head to look at you. There’s a soft smile on his face and you smile back.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, bug.”

Your smile falters, “I never want you to leave me like that ever again. Got it?” Your voice is firm, but there’s an underlying trace of tenderness. Your hand comes up to push his hair back, waiting for his answer.

“Never.”

“Good.” You pull him back down to you for a kiss.

He slowly peels himself off of you and whispers out, “Wait here.”

You lay on your back, legs bent as you wait for Simon’s return. When you hear him entering the bedroom, you slightly sit up and you notice a washcloth in one of his hands.

He kneels back on the bed and gingerly pries your legs open so he can clean you up. He delicately starts wiping your center, his first few strokes making you writhe due to oversensitivity. His hand rests tenderly on your knee, thumb stroking back and forth as he wipes you clean. He must have run the washcloth under hot water because it’s wet and feels warm against your skin.

When he’s done, he pecks the inside of your knee and gets up off the bed to go throw the washcloth in the hamper. When he returns to you, he’s in his boxers, and he has a t-shirt in his hand.

“For you, my lady.” You laugh at him and take his shirt, pulling the soft material over your body.

You both clamber under the covers, and are now wrapped up in Simon’s arms.

There’s no place you’d rather be right now, and you’re so thankful the universe allowed you another chance to be with him like this.

If he didn’t make his way back to you, you don’t even know what you would have done. Probably would have gone mental, but who could really blame you?

#Simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #mw2 ghost x reader #cod ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x you #ghost x you #cod ghost x you #mw2 ghost x you #simon ghost riley fanfic #simon riley fanfic #ghost fanfic #cod ghost fanfic #mw2 ghost fanfic #simon ghost riley imagine #simon riley imagine #ghost imagine #mw2 ghost imagine #cod ghost imagine #simon ghost riley smut #simon riley smut #mw2 ghost smut #cod ghost smut #fanfic #Simon ghost riley #simon riley

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

not allowed iii, m | jjk, myg

pairing(s): jungkook x reader x est. relationship yoongi

summary: Your relationship with Min Yoongi, SUGA of BTS, is unlike anything else in the entire world. At this point, it’s almost like telepathy with how close you are. Still, he surprised you. Such as asking Jeon Jungkook to fuck you. Once. Twice. And this time Jungkook is waiting for you, with Yoongi. 

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; established relationship with Yoongi (and they basically have heart eyes whenever they see each other lol); tiny bit of angst; feels and fluff; smut (fem reader, dirty talk, voyeurism, f and m-receiving oral, fingering, m-masturbation, partial handjob, doggy, double penetration/spit roasting); idol!BTS; takes place after 2021 GDA, yup blond JK is best boy and kind boy

mentions of the pandemic because this is based on real time

–

You closed the door behind you and breathed out slowly. It was late, quite dark outside. Most people would be asleep by now. You unhooked your black face mask from your ears and pushed the hood of your black parka down, releasing your hair. 

Ah, there was always stress and adrenaline to get here.

You had stated working again, so you weren't here every day anymore. You had to go back after all, if you wanted to keep your job. You worked from home most days and, with the current state of the world, now it was all the time. Still, you couldn’t take any chances. You made sure to get tested and have your results before coming here. Negative, so you were good. 

You turned on the light. 

A blond bullet collided into you.

"Oof!"

You had to plant your feet and brace for impact, and you still almost toppled over. You would have if it wasn't for the strong arms that encircled you and lifted you up, making you dizzy as you were spun around. 

"Ack, J-Jungkook..."

You could feel your eyes rolling in their sockets. You were put firmly on the ground and still being squeezed to death. 

"I'm so happy to see you!" Jeon Jungkook, the Golden Maknae of BTS, exclaimed, albeit in a hushed tone, but no less excited. "I was surprised when you said you could come today!"

You managed to blink your eyeballs back in place to see Jungkook's animated face above you, blond hair fluffy and bouncy from spinning you around. He wasn't wearing any makeup and he smelled freshly washed, as if he had taken a late shower. His brown eyes were sparkling as he grinned at you, showing off his bright white teeth. You hadn't seen his ash blond hair in real life yet, only on television. 

You smiled at him. "Yeah? Did you miss me?"

Jungkook nodded quickly. "I wanted to show you my hair." He bent down and placed it against your nose. You could smell the nice scent of the herbal product he used. “Do you like it, noona?"

You chuckled. "Of course, I like it," you said fondly, nuzzling the dark roots of the blond locks. It felt nice inhaling his familiar scent, a comforting and clean one. "You're my lock screen."

"I've been betrayed."

You chuckled as you heard the raspy, sleepy voice of Min Yoongi, your boyfriend. Owner of said apartment you were in right now. The lazy center of your universe. The reason why you even bothered to run around in the dark. The reason why you had to match your schedule with the guard shift so the security that recognized you could turn a blind eye. Not all of the security recognized you, just the ones Yoongi had a careful and stem conversation with. That’s how it had to be.

All because Min Yoongi was also SUGA of BTS. Agust D. Lil meow meow. The softest fluff with the sharpest tongue. 

You looked up to see Yoongi padding down the hallway in a black long-sleeved shirt and a pair of loose black pants. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, squinting, but with a small smile on his lips. Jungkook released you as Yoongi neared, your body automatically wandering towards him. You reached into your oversized parka coat and pulled out your phone. You had changed the outside once again, to a TinyTan SUGA clear case, to show off the multi-chrome purple finish of the BTS S20+. You turned it around in your hand and pressed the side button. The screen lit up, revealing your lock screen.

"Thanks for standing next to each other. It made picking a lock screen much easier."

It was a picture of Jungkook and Yoongi, standing on stage right before the 'Life Goes On' performance at GDA 2020.

"I missed seeing you there," you added softly, holding your phone tightly. It was weirdly emotional, knowing Yoongi was back. How could he ever think anyone was going to forget him? “It’s always better when the seven of you are together.”

Yoongi chuckled, fluffing the back of his black hair. "Ah, back to working hard once again..." he complained, but you could tell he didn't mean it at all. 

And for you.

You wanted him to be on stage again. You wanted him to be busy again, doing what he loved, getting into nonsense in Run BTS!, looking cool in photo shoots, back to actively making music all the time. You were an independent person and you didn't necessarily need your significant other to always be beside you. For the longest time, you had even been quite comfortable with it. But the little while of Yoongi's sudden rest made you realize that it was nice to always be around him. To be somewhat normal, even if your relationship couldn’t and would never be fully normal.

And now you were disturbing his sleep. Now, not just his, but Jungkook's too. And maybe... Maybe that made you a burde–

Yoongi suddenly stepped up and tapped you lightly on the forehead with two fingers. 

"Stop that train of thought right now."

You frowned and bonked him right back with the back of your hand. "What if I was thinking about dick, huh?"

"If you were thinking about dick, you'd be on Jungkook's right now, and then I'd be pulling up a chair to watch the show."

"What if I was thinking about your dick, hmm?"

"Do you even remember what my dick looks like?" Yoongi replied haughtily. 

"Of course, I do. You painted the fucking Mona Lisa on my tits the last time I was here."

"Hm, you're right."

Jungkook was laughing hard behind you, the high-pitched one that came out when he couldn’t help himself. Both of you turned to see Jungkook with his arms around his stomach as he cackled at your bickering. 

"It's like..." Jungkook wheezed. "It's like watching hyung fight himself and losing..."

"I’m not losing," Yoongi retorted, pursing his lips. 

"You always lose."

"Because I let you win."

"That's true, because you love me."

You smiled cheekily at Yoongi. You thought he was going to give you his usual snappy comeback, but instead he leaned over and kissed your forehead. His  hair shaded his eyes a little. He smiled at you, dark brown orbs sparkling. 

I do love you. 

"You wanna spend all night standing here or are you going to join me in bed?" Yoongi teased, ticking his chin at your sneakers. 

You pointed to Jungkook. "Is he coming too?"

The laughter instantly left Jungkook’s face, replaced by nervousness. "Ah... I don't have to..." he stammered. "If you guys want to be alone... I only wanted to say hello..."

"He's coming," Yoongi said purposefully, ignoring Jungkook's ramble. "He's been waiting two hours to stick his dick in you."

"Hyung!"

You raised your eyebrows as you stepped out of your shoes. "I stated my arrival time in the text. Did you not tell him?"

"I told him, but he came right after shooting. Just in case you arrived earlier."

You smirked and tugged on Jungkook’s white shirt. "Did he tell you why I can only come at specific times?"

"I know, but..." Jungkook chewed on his lip. "Hyung said he would try and see if you could come more often."

You smiled ruefully as you took Yoongi's hand and followed him down the hall. You were still holding onto Jungkook's shirt, so you lowered your hand to take his too. He looked surprised for a second before you squeezed it reassuringly. The white with his blond hair was a good choice. You wondered if it was done on purpose. He was even wearing nicer black trousers, although his shirt wasn’t tucked in.

Was it for your sake?

"Ah, I don’t know if that’s possible. Don't want anyone to find out, after all. And," you added with a chuckle. "I don't want to get you in trouble either, Jungkookie."

"He's already in trouble," Yoongi laughed. "Taehyung caught him mumbling your name in his sleep."

Jungkook's cheeks instantly flushed. "I-It wasn't sexual!"

You blinked at him. "No one said it was."

He turned redder and grabbed your parka, hiding his face behind the big hood. "R... right."

Maybe you were being too greedy. Maybe you should have kept your mouth shut so Yoongi wouldn’t feel pressure to indulge in your fantasies. Maybe you were asking too much.

The sigh came out of you, heavy with self-doubt.

"Maybe we shou–"

Yoongi's lips were suddenly on yours, kissing you deeply. Your eyes widened as he pressed you against Jungkook's hard body, watching you through half-lidded eyes. He could sense your worry and perhaps he guessed your reaction. You hand reached back to hold onto Jungkook to prevent yourself from falling, but your eyes were on Yoongi, the one who knew you best, the one who knew that he too was asking a lot from you, the one who was trying to remind you that everything was okay. His dark brown orbs were telling you, we will take everything step by step, and his lips moved on yours, I love you. You mouthed it back with a smile. 

Yoongi pulled away, the smile reaching his eyes. 

"You're the most special person to me."

Your heart softened, hearing those familiar words from your current favorite song. 

"I thought that was for ARMY."

Yoongi raised an eyebrow in mock distraught. "Are you not an ARMY?"

"Of course."

"Then it's for you too."

Yoongi was like that. He couldn't and wasn't the kind of guy to write you traditional love songs, but he gave you all sorts of other things. Small things, actions that seemed trivial or nonexistent to others. And maybe someone else would overlook those things, but you knew how difficult it was for him to show affection, even more so because of his job. To be honest, you were similar, showing your love in nuance and teasing. Also, you liked the treasure hunt that was Min Yoongi. And above all, most importantly, he listened to you, listened so deeply it felt like he knew what you were thinking. 

There was nothing like the telepathy been you and Min Yoongi. 

Jungkook was sniffing your head. 

"What's this small?"

You almost laughed at his childlike tone. Yoongi smiled too, leaning forward and sniffing your temple, next to your hair.

"Oh? It's fruity."

"It's peaches," you explained as Jungkook parted your hair to sniff deeper, as if that was going to do anything. He was probably just trying to fuck up your hair. "I ran out of shampoo and they didn’t have my usual at the store."

You were suddenly aware that you were squashed between Yoongi and Jungkook’s bodies as they two of them were smelling you, Yoongi’s arms around your waist, Jungkook’s hands on your hips. Despite being fully clothed, the position was sending tingles up your spine, your breathing shallowing, tickling Yoongi’s cheek as Jungkook brushed your hair to one side, pressing his lips against your bare neck. You felt Yoongi’s lips on your jaw, kissing against your pulse. You whined a little, one hand bunching against Yoongi’s shirt as your other hand drifted down to Jungkook’s right hand on your hip, stroking his knuckles.

Yoongi reached up to unzip your parka.

“W-wait, be careful–” you started, but Yoongi shushed you, nuzzling your cheek.

“I will be,” Yoongi whispered softly. “That’s why Jungkook’s here to help me.”

You bit your lip as Yoongi unzipped your coat with his right hand, using his left to hold the placket down. He kissed up to your mouth as his hands slid into the coat, fingers brushing against the red flannel underneath. Jungkook’s lips were moving up to your ear, lightly nipping at the curve and making you shiver, chest bumping against Yoongi’s as your ass hit Jungkook’s crotch.

“I…” You shut your eyes, trying to concentrate as Yoongi sucked on your lower lip. “I don’t deserve this…”

Yoongi clicked his tongue, biting at your lip roughly. You opened your eyes to his disapproving glare, eyes dark from his lowered lashes. His large hands squeezed your waist.

“You’re not allowed to say such things.”

You felt the heat spread from his hands, pooling into your core.

“Isn’t that right, Jungkook?”

Yoongi ticked an eyebrow at you as you gasped a little, Jungkook’s lips on your earlobe, voice lustful and deep.

“That’s right, noona. Let Yoongi-hyung and I ruin you.”

…

Help.

Yoongi’s fingers began undoing the buttons of the red flannel, one by one. He was well practiced at unbuttoning shirts with one hand now. A skill that he had honed for himself and for you. He smirked as you noticed, whispering your name in a slow, purring drawl, deep and raspy, dark brown eyes watching you and drinking in your reaction.

Min Yoongi was scary. He knew how to make you wet instantly.

And then Jungkook did the same, breathing your name into your ear in his silvery low octave. Your hand on Yoongi’s shirt clenched and tugged him close, moaning into his lips, kissing him hard. Jungkook’s hand slipped out of yours and reached up to your shoulders, pushing your clothes down, revealing your bare skin. Taking them off you as your tongue slid into Yoongi’s mouth, his soft pants against your lips as your hips grinded into Jungkook’s crotch, feeling him harden at your closeness. Your parka and shirt slid to the floor as Yoongi pulled you forward, closer and closer to the bed, Jungkook encouraging you by smacking your ass with his hips.

Yoongi broke the kiss with a flick of his head, making you whine in disappointment. He chuckled, looking down at you with a devious smile.

“Jungkook wants something from you.”

Yoongi turned you around with his hands on your hips, colliding you with Jungkook’s hard chest. You gasped a little, looking up to see Jungkook chewing on his lower lip, bunny teeth flashing. The tiny mole under his lip bounced with his biting. His golden hair framed his apprehensive brown eyes, finally making eye contact.

“What’s wrong, Jungkook?” You tilted your head. “Do you want me to blow you again?”

Jungkook’s ears flushed red. “A-ah, n-no… I mean, yes, but…”

Yoongi snickered, unhooking your bra with his right hand. He lowered one strap and then the other, stripping it from you and tossing it aside. Jungkook’s cheeks tinged pink, eyes immediately dropping to stare at your tits. You smirked, placing your palms underneath them and bouncing them a little. You felt Yoongi’s fingers dancing down the small of your back, hovering around the waistband of your black sweatpants.

“Why aren’t you dressed like how you are on your Instagram?” Yoongi muttered behind you. “False advertising.”

“You have an Instagram?” Jungkook blurted out, still staring at your nipples.

You rolled your eyes even though Yoongi couldn’t see you. “Because someone would notice, obviously.”

Yoongi clicked his tongue. “Just one time…”

“Wait, how come I don’t know you have an Instagram?” Jungkook whined, hands coming up to settle on your breasts and squeezing them. You lowered your hands, gasping as Jungkook’s palms rubbed against your hard nipples.

“You never asked,” Yoongi answered, snapping the waistband into your skin. “Also, it’s private.”

“C-can we talk about this later?” you panted out.

Jungkook grinned and dropped his hands a little, brushing his fingers against your nipples. You moaned softly, your vision shaded by your lashes, seeing his mischievous smirk.

“Mhm, as long as you promise to show me after.”

You scoffed. “Sure, it’s not that interestin–” You whimpered as Jungkook pinched your nipples, rubbing them between his fingertips. “A-ah, Jungkook…”

He breathed your name, no honorifics, and your eyes locked with his. Fuck, he was so handsome with his ash blond hair, reminding you of when Yoongi had blond hair. Ugh, so fucking hot. You felt your sweatpants being shoved down your hips but you barely noticed, lost in daydreams of blond Yoongi and blond Jungkook.

“Can I eat you out?”

You were abruptly yanked back into the present by Jungkook’s request.

“Yes.” Fuck. You said that far too fast and far too needy. Jungkook grinned, removing his hands from your breasts. “Ah, I mean…”

He leaned forward, pressing his nose against yours. “You’re out of it today.”

You felt Yoongi’s fingers slip under the waistband of your panties. His lips were traveling down your back, kissing down your spine. You trembled slightly, swallowing as you stared into Jungkook’s dark brown eyes.

And you couldn’t help but think, was this really okay? Was this fair, for you to have both at once?

Jungkook tipped his head, lips against yours. He seemed to sense your hesitation. “I thought you wanted me?” His soft hair brushed against your cheek, golden rays blocking your vision. “Thought you loved looking at me?”

“I do,” you whimpered. “I love looking at you.”

Yoongi fingers pulling your panties down, down, liquid leaking out and clinging to the inside of your thighs. Your cheeks heated, realizing how wet you were.

“Then what’s the matter?” Yoongi purred against your lower back.

“Don’t… don’t want to hurt you, Yoongi,” you whispered against Jungkook’s lips. Your vision blurred and you blinked rapidly. Ah, why was the world so heavy all of a sudden? Why couldn’t you be calm as usual? Why couldn’t you roll with it as usual?

Because you missed them.

Them.

Jungkook kissed you tenderly as Yoongi stood back up, his lips pressed to your ear.

“There’s nothing like us. You know there isn’t.”

He was right, of course. There was nothing like you and Yoongi.

Jungkook pulled back and Yoongi’s right hand appeared in your periphery, his long fingers tucking Jungkook’s blond hair behind his left ear, giving you a clear view of Jungkook’s beautiful eyes, the unique shape, the rich brown color, the way they looked at you, as if he was afraid you were going to disappear. Waiting for the heartbreak.

“And there’s no one like Jungkook,” Yoongi murmured. “You want him. He wants you. Isn’t that enough?”

And Yoongi was right again. There was no one like Jungkook.

“I’m sorry, Jungkook,” you breathed. “I’m sorry, but I really do want you so bad.”

“You can have me. However much you want,” Jungkook replied. Eyes locked with yours, meaning every word. He tilted his head, leaning in again, lashes lowering, breath against your lips.

“I want you to take it all.”

But Jungkook wasn’t the only one who said it.

Your eyes widened as you heard Yoongi echo Jungkook’s words right into your ear.

“Take it all,” Yoongi growled. “Take it and don’t hold back.”

Your name fell from Yoongi’s lips, your name, like a spark to fire, igniting you. There no one like Yoongi, snapping you out of your doubt, taking your heart and holding it tight while turning you on. You grabbed Jungkook’s white shirt and yanked his body to yours as you kissed him, inhaling his clean scent, his lips an addiction. And there was no one like Jungkook, because what both of you thought was just a crush, just a one-time thing, wasn’t. For some reason, you couldn’t stop and he couldn’t stop, hooked on the taste of his lips and his tongue sliding against yours, moaning into your mouth as you moaned into his, feeling Yoongi’s hands on your hips, pressing you into Jungkook’s clothed crotch, some of your juices getting onto his pants and staining them.

Jungkook pushed your head up, breaking the kiss and gasping, eyelids fluttering. He pressed your head back against Yoongi’s shoulder, kissing down your chest, running his tongue over your skin. You shuddered, head falling back down to watch him. Chocolate orbs to yours as he licked your left nipple, twirling his wet muscle around it, covering it with saliva. You whimpered at the dirty action, arching your back to press the hard nub into his mouth. Jungkook whined in his throat, closing his lips around it as you humped your chest onto his face. He sucked hard, hollowing his cheeks, intensifying the feeling as Yoongi teased your other nipple, pinching it and rolling it between his fingers.

“Fuck, Jungkook, fuck…”

Your thighs squeezed together, desperate for friction.

Jungkook released your nipple, licking it a few times, letting you watch the swollen nub get slapped back and forth by his tongue. You shivered, hips bumping into his. Jungkook’s strong hands came up to hold you still.

“Don’t waste it by rubbing it all over me,” he teased. “I want it in my mouth.”

You clutched his white shirt and yanked up, making Jungkook yelp with your force.

“Take it off,” you half-growled, half-whined. “Need it off.”

Yoongi chuckled at your impatience as Jungkook wiggled out of his shirt, throwing it aside. He looked back at you, blond hair covering one of his eyes, smirk on his lips.

“Better?”

Ugh, Jungkook was so attractive. The shape of his broad shoulders, his sculpted arms, the fucking tattoos that shone on his tan skin, the way his body trimmed down to that v-line. Your eyes roamed down his torso and then back up, licking your lips. Jungkook raised his eyebrows, completely aware of your staring.

“Yes. Much better.”

You took him by the shoulders and pushed him down to his knees. His eyes widened, stumbling a little as he knelt for you, hands coming up to grip your hips for support. You pushed his left hand away, hooking your leg onto Jungkook’s left shoulder and presenting your pussy right into his face. He gasped at the sight, eyes glued to your dripping core, lips parting wetly.

“Fuck,” he breathed hotly. You squirmed, trying to get into his face, but his right hand held you down, drinking in the image in front of him, left hand finding your ass and gripping it tightly. “You smell so fucking sexy.”

“Jungkook, please…”

His eyes flickered up to your face, half-lidded with lust, dipping his head down.

“Can’t resist you,” he mumbled. “I just have to have a taste of his nectar.”

And then his tongue on you, licking a fat stripe across your opening, moaning as your flavor invaded his tastebuds, his hand lifting your ass to tip your hips into his hot mouth. You gasped, pressing into Yoongi’s chest, your hands reaching behind you and gripping his slim waist. You had to tilt your body and lock your upper arms so you wouldn’t bump into his left shoulder by accident. Yoongi hummed soothingly, aware of your consideration, hands gently kneading your breasts as Jungkook’s wet tongue slid into your hole, witnessing your wanton expression as he sucked out your juices, adding a little suction, removing it, driving you insane.

“A-ah, yes, fuck, Jungkook, yes…”

When was the last time Yoongi ate you out? Months ago. Yoongi had a tongue unmatched, the perfect combination of speed, pressure, and technique. His tongue technology, one might say. Jungkook’s tongue was softer, less practiced, but he made up for it with enthusiasm and his intense gaze on you, moaning into your pussy. You slid down a little and cried out as his tongue made contact with your sensitive clit, his tongue pressing against it and swirling, sending shocks of pleasure through you, your thigh tensing against his cheek.

“Mm, yes, Jungkook, right there…”

Yoongi pinched and pulled your nipples. You snuck a glance at him, looking up, and realized he was looking down at you. His lips curved upwards to a playful smirk as he noticed your curious gaze. He tugged at your nipples, earning your soft whines.

“You moved down to put less strain on my shoulder?” he murmured fondly.

You nodded quickly, gasping as Jungkook sucked on your clit, causing you to roll your hips into his face. Jungkook grunted, digging his fingers into your ass, spreading you out under him. Fuck, his mouth was so soft and so warm, adding to your heat. Your hands worked into his hair, pressing him into you, his slurping sounds so lewd that your legs were quivering.

His eyes flickered to yours, pupils dilated, nose in your crotch, and, fuck, Jeon Jungkook was just so hot, on his knees and eating you out like a fucking buffet, his tattooed arm curved around you and your right thigh on his left shoulder, pressing against his cheek as your fingers curled in his blond locks, humping his face to add friction. Either Jungkook was inherently good at eating pussy or he had somehow rehearsed this and, considering his profession, you were guessing the former.

The Golden Maknae lived up to his name in appearance and talent.

You didn’t want to lean too much on Yoongi, so you put more of your weight onto Jungkook. He seemed to feel nothing at all, busy clamping his lips down on your clit and sucking harder. You sank your teeth into your lower lip, wail in your throat, squeezing your eyes shut as all of the sensations piled on you at once – Yoongi’s deft fingers playing with your nipples, Jungkook’s scorching mouth and tongue abusing your swollen clit, your hands gripping Jungkook’s soft hair and fucking his handsome face – and it was too much, all too much as your lower lip popped out of your teeth, moaning loudly as your orgasm radiated through you, throbbing waves rippling from your core as you came into Jungkook’s waiting mouth and chin, leaking all over his skin, dripping down his neck. He groaned, vibrating your clit, and you gasped, rutting into his face roughly, pressing your head into Yoongi’s torso.

“Oh, God, fuck, Jungkook, Yoongi…”

You weren’t sure if Jungkook was suffocating or not, but Jungkook himself didn’t seem to give a shit, cleaning you off with his tongue and burying his nose into your pussy, rubbing it against your clit. Your hips bucked at the sensitivity, your leg falling off his shoulder as you sucked in a breath. It forced his mouth to retreat, and you were greeted with the sight of Jungkook’s eyes slowly opening, his nose, lips, and chin covered in your glistening, viscous juices. He made eye contact with you, hand coming up to wipe it off, pink tongue sliding out and licking it from the back of his hand.

“Hah…” Jungkook panted, hungrily sucking up your taste. “That’s my drink of choice.”

You chuckled. “Sorry you can’t get it at a bar.”

Jungkook ticked his head, smirking devilishly. “I can if you’re sitting on the bar, legs spread open for me.”

Damn, what a visual. You straightened with the help of Yoongi, only for his right hand to close around your arm, yanking you to the bed. You started, bouncing slightly as you fell onto the mattress. Jungkook seemed amused, standing up to watch with interest. His blond hair was tousled wildly, messy from you holding onto his head. He smirked, lips dark pink from eating you out, the sharpness of his jawline standing out. But you couldn’t stare at him for long, because Yoongi plunged three fingers into your aching pussy, filling you up suddenly. You yelped, snapping your head to Yoongi’s dark, intense gaze, made darker by his black bangs shadowing his eyes.

“Y-Yoongi!”

He purred your name, giving you a teasing smile, tongue against the side of his pink lips.

“Mhm?”

“W-want…” You gasped as he slowly thrust into you, thumb knuckle rubbing against your inflamed clit, pushing his fingers in, your pussy clenching around them. “Want your cock…”

“Sorry, my love,” he murmured. “Can’t yet. Doctor’s orders.”

You furrowed your brows at him, raising your hips to meet his hand. “I’m beginning you think you’re enjoying denying me.”

Yoongi’s foxy smile implied just that. “What are you talking about?” He leaned down, tongue dancing between his teeth, snickering as you whimpered. “I’m not denying you. That’s why I asked Jungkook to come and stuff his big cock into you.”

You whimpered, biting your lip and snapped your legs closed, eyes rolling back into your head as you came all over his hand, soaking his skin and dripping onto the bed. Yoongi moaned softly as he felt your walls pulse against his fingers.

“Fuck, I love it when I can feel you cum for me.”

You shuddered, muscles tingling with pleasure. Yoongi pulled his fingers out slowly, groaning as he felt you tighten around them, trying to prevent him from leaving. He chuckled, raising an eyebrow.

“Could you help hyung out, Jungkook?”

You shifted your eyes to Jungkook, who suddenly froze, the fly of his black pants wide open, hand down his black boxer briefs. Yoongi noticed your startled expression and turned his head too, both eyebrows raising. Jungkook’s cheeks tinged pink.

“Er…”

“Were you jacking off just now?”

Jungkook’s eyes darted everywhere except Yoongi’s face. “Er…”

“Show me, Jungkook,” you breathed out.

His large doe-like eyes shot to your body to on the bed, legs spreading, Yoongi’s wet fingers hovering over your quivering mound. He stole a glance at Yoongi, who jerked his head towards you.

“She gave you an order.”

“Hyung…” Jungkook whined. “It’s embarrassing…”

Yoongi shrugged, his fingers touching your swollen clit. You jumped, gasping as he rubbed in slow, large circles, stimulating it gently. The sensitive bundle of nerves throbbed against his fingertips, pussy clenching around nothing.

“Y-Yoongi, don’t, I’m t-too sensitive,” you panted, legs threatening to close once more.

“Keep your legs open,” Yoongi said sternly. “Let Jungkookie see.”

You gritted your teeth, hands twisting in the sheets, hips raising to his hand. “I c-can’t… You’re too good, Yoongi…” You had to lock your knees to prevent them from collapsing inwards, feeling him build his speed, eyes fluttering closed as you moaned once more, feeling the pleasure flood throughout, wetter and wetter, your slit opening and closing. You felt Yoongi lean down, his black hair against your cheek. Oh, fuck. His pine-scented cologne. Sex. Yoongi. You resisted the urge to grab his head and fiercely make out with him. He wasn’t fully recovered yet. His voice was that low, raspy drawl, arousing you just as much as his fingers rubbing your clit.

“Open your eyes and see what you’ve done to poor Jungkook.”

You opened your eyes to see Jungkook was closer now, right next to the bed, pants and underwear around his knees as he pumped his cock right next to you, eyes fixated on Yoongi’s fingers and your sopping wet pussy, his pouty pink lips wet and open, blond hair all over his face. The head of his cock was an angry red, veins popping out along the thick length as he smeared his pre-cum over the tip with his finger, hissing at the sensitivity. He seemed to feel your stare and then your eyes locked.

“Jungkook…”

Breathlessly, his name drifting out of your lips like smoke.

His dark brown orbs were nearly black with how blown-out his pupils were. He gasped your name out, needy and desperate, his chin lifting, hair falling back to reveal his lustful dark eyes as his mouth opened, pink tongue lolling out a little.

“Wanna cum with you,” Jungkook begged. “Tell when you’re close. Please.”

You nodded, sharply cut off as Yoongi assaulted your clit, forearm nearly vibrating as he pushed you to the edge, so close, so close that you had to chomp down on the inside of your cheek to prevent yourself from orgasming right then and there.

“Y-Yoongi, he’s not ready yet…”

Yoongi chuckled. “Oh, I know.”

You whimpered, thighs caving in a little, but Yoongi growled deep in his chest, warning you.

“Don’t close your legs.”

Normally you would fight him, but this situation was different. You wanted to please Yoongi, give him everything he asked for because you knew he couldn’t get everything he wanted. Your core tightened, the pitch of your cries hiking as you tried to hold back, staring at Jungkook’s long fingers wrapped around his thick, stiff cock, black tattoos rippling on tan skin as he chased his climax, watching your legs shake with strain as Yoongi took you to your limits. Your wetness was soaking a puddle into the sheets, the scent of your arousal so strong it seemed to prevail all others.

Fuck, you couldn’t anymore, you just couldn’t.

“J-Jungkook… a-ah, gonna cum soon, fuck, Yoongi, fuck, you’re too fucking good!”

Your last words turned into a wild, guttural moan as you came, hips ramming into Yoongi’s hand, back arching, your orgasm pulling you up taut like a marionette on a string, thighs shaking as your pussy throbbed with release. Your juices dripped down like honey, splattering over your thighs and down your ass before you abruptly fell, legs crumpling as Yoongi’s hand cupped your hot, trembling mound, his heavy pants mixing with yours. He groaned softly, feeling your puffy pussy lips and clit flinch and jerk as the aftershocks rippled through your nerves.

Jungkook whined deep in his throat, splattering his cum all over your leg and on the sheets, hot thick strings that made you shudder as it covered your skin. He pumped it all out, emptying it on you. Surely, you couldn’t muster the strength to take a dick right now. But one look at Jungkook and his hand still gripping his cock, slowly, delicately stroking it once more, staring at the mess that both of you made, sweat beaded on his forehead.

Yeah, no, you definitely wanted it in you.

“Jungkook…”

He raised his head, ash blond strands soaked with sweat, wispy around his eyes.

“Want your cock.”

He smirked. “What do you say?”

Now. You resisted the urge to be a smartass. There were other ways.

“Let noona’s wet, tight pussy take care of you,” you purred.

The dominant spark in Jungkook’s eyes flitted away, replaced by his submissive doe eyes, his desire, his desperation. Fuck, it was so fun seeing that, the duality, reminding you so much of Yoongi and his softness juxtaposed with his sarcasm. Yoongi removed his hand, moving to the nightstand and grabbing a towel, reaching over to wipe Jungkook’s cum off you. You sat up, taking the towel from him as you noticed him leaning on his left arm.

“Ah, be careful,” you reprimanded, shooing him away.

Yoongi narrowed his eyes at you. “I’m not broken.”

“You’re not fixed either,” you pouted, cleaning yourself up. You made eye contact with him and he clicked his tongue, nodding. Yoongi was about to move away, but you grabbed a fistful of his sweatpants, pulling him back. He tilted his head, sending you an inquisitive look.

“I shouldn’t do any more,” he murmured. “I can just watch.”

You yanked the side of his pants down and Yoongi arched an eyebrow. Your eyes on his crotch, then back to his face. Your lips parted, tongue flickering out. He could put two and two together.

“You can do some things without moving.”

His gaze sharpened. “I’m going to want to fuck your face.”

Your lips curved into a smirk. “Well, you can’t. You’ll have to sit there and take it like a good boy.” You removed your hand and patted the pillows, grinning. “I want to get spit roasted.”

Yoongi sucked in a tight breath, eyebrow twitching.

“It’s not really a spit roast unless you’re the passive one,” Yoongi tried to argue as he tugged his pants down, getting onto the bed. You scooted down, feeling a hard, firm body come up behind you, hands sliding up your waist to cup you breasts. You moaned softly, pressing your ass against Jungkook’s leaking cock, feeling it throb against your skin.

“Need a condom, hyung,” Jungkook panted, exhaling in satisfaction as his fingers ran over your nipples, earning pleading gasps.

Yoongi reached over to grab one as you reached back, running your hand over Jungkook’s semi-hard length, spreading the pre-cum down the head. Your fingertip touched the slit and he shivered, whining against your neck.

“Noona, don’t…”

You took the condom from Yoongi with your free hand, wrapping your fingers around Jungkook’s cock as he moaned, tugging at your nipples repeatedly. Your hips jerked involuntarily, skin rubbing against the sensitive head, making him groan.

“Need you hard for me.”

You stroked him slowly, not too tight, not too loose, his warm cock throbbing in your hand. You felt one of Jungkook’s hands leave your chest, gripping your hand tightly around his cock. His cock swelled at the sudden stop, pressing against your palm. His lips touched your ear and you shivered at his voice, low and dangerous, almost feral.

“Oh, I’ll be hard,” Jungkook snarled softly. “Impossible not to be hard…” His other hand dropped, snaking down your stomach. You tensed up as he neared closer and closer. Yoongi cleared his throat and your head snapped up to see him tilting his head, observing closely with an amused smirk.

“Jungkook, d-don’t…”

“… In this pussy.”

And you moaned loudly, feeling two of his fingers slip down and spread your pussy lips, engorged clit poking out from your repeated orgasms. Even the small stimulation made you wetter, drenching the inside of your thighs as Yoongi’s hungry eyes watched Jungkook spread you open for him to see.

“Spread your legs for hyung,” Jungkook ordered, nipping at your earlobe.

You whined, opening your thighs and tipping them up for Yoongi to see your glistening, pink pussy lips forced open by Jungkook’s fingers, your walls pulsing with need. Your hand was still around Jungkook’s cock, holding his hardness as you watching Yoongi’s right hand enclose his already stiff length, licking his lips at this dirty display.

“Flick her clit, Jungkook.”

You cried out, hips bucking as Jungkook flicked your clit with his nail, releasing his cock and falling onto your hands, staring into Yoongi’s mischievous, triumphant eyes. The condom fluttered to the bed, dropped by the sudden shock of painful ecstasy.

“P-Please…” Too many orgasms, too much pleasure. It was turning you into a mess, taking over you, leaving you at the mercy of the two men, crawling towards Yoongi, ass up in the air as you went low, looking up at him, pleading him. “Need you in my mouth, Yoongi. Wanna make you feel good.”

Yoongi removed his hand, ticking his chin to Jungkook. “Ask him to shove his dick into you.”

You bit your lip, turning back and wiggling your ass, seeing Jungkook roll the condom down. His eyes on yours, sending shivers down your spine with his intense gaze and naughty smirk.

“Jungkook.” Even his name from your lips seemed to darken his chocolate orbs with lust. “Want your cock to fill me up.”

“That’s too nice,” Yoongi chided.

Your ears burned. But, well, desperate times call for desperate measures.

“Jungkook, please, please use my pussy to cum, fuck, want you inside me so fucking bad.”

He groaned, sliding up to you, gripping your hips, pressing his fingers into your ass, positioning himself right at your entrance.

“You sound so fucking sexy begging for cock,” he purred. “I just have to give it to you.”

And then he plunged into you, both of you moaning so loudly that the soundproof walls were saving you once again, so wet that your pussy squelched around his thick cock. Ah, he just felt so good, so hard and unforgiving, stretching you out forcefully. You turned back to Yoongi, lowering your head as he spread his legs for you, lifting his shirt as you swallowed his cock, eyelids fluttering as his taste was on your lips once again, invading your mouth, familiar and wonderful. You saw Yoongi moan watching you, cat-like eyes shrouded with lust, biting his lip as you sank down, vibrating his cock with your cries as Jungkook’s length fully entered you, his balls hitting your over-stimulated clit.

So full.

Oh, fuck.

You tried to say Yoongi’s name around his cock, hoping your eyes could tell him what you meant. I missed this so fucking much. His perfect length filling your mouth, smelling so good and so him, burying itself in your throat.

“Fuck,” Yoongi breathed. “Fuck, you look so fucking beautiful taking two cocks at once.”

Jungkook slid out a little and thrust into you. You whimpered around Yoongi, staring into his eyes, tightening your throat muscles as you opened your lips, tongue unfurling down, down.

“Yes, fuck, yes,” Yoongi hissed, tipping his head back as he felt your tongue on his balls, his stiff cock throbbing as you rubbed it against the roof of your mouth, slapping his balls with your tongue at the same time, warm saliva dripping down and coating them. “Yes, fuck, you’re so good at that, fuck, I love you so fucking much, a-ah…”

And now Jungkook was really fucking you, hard, deep thrusts that shoved you repeatedly onto Yoongi’s cock. You had to retreat your head a little to prevent yourself from choking, but you didn’t stop licking Yoongi’s balls, his handsome face painted with pleasure, murmuring your name, praising you. You swiped your tongue from his balls to the tip of his member, teasing the sensitive skin underneath the head expertly before sliding back down. Up and down, stroking him with your tongue. Yoongi groaned, hips rising into your throat. Fuck, you loved seeing his normally serious face completely consumed by lust, loved the way he lost himself to you.

And, oh fuck, you loved the how you felt as your pussy was assaulted by Jungkook’s cock, stretching you out, pressing against your walls, filling you up as you squeezed him back, massaging all of him as he descended.

“Your pussy is so tight,” Jungkook panted. “Fuck, so tight and so wet, I love it so much, I love fucking you noona, you’re just so fucking good at taking cock.”

You withdrew your tongue from Yoongi’s balls, encasing your lips around his length and sucking hard, creating a tight, wet vacuum, Jungkook’s hips slapping against yours adding to your motion. Yoongi gasped, spreading his fingers on the bed, head pressed into the headboard. His dark eyes were half-lidded, watching your ass bounce as Jungkook fucked you onto his cock, forcing you to swallow him at a quick, rough pace.

“Fuck, I knew it would be good,” Yoongi breathed, gaze shifting to you and your eyes looking up at him, witnessing his satisfied expression. “Look at you. So fucking perfect, lips wrapped around my cock, Jungkook’s dick squeezed by your pretty pussy.” It made you wetter, knowing Yoongi was liking this, knowing he was aroused seeing you like this. His hand came up and tucked your hair back, fingertips brushing against your forehead. His touch made you whine, encouraging you to fuck Jungkook back eagerly, ass slapping into his crotch, bobbing your head up and down faster, tighter.

And Yoongi’s eyes on you, telling you everything. I want you, I need you, I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

I’ll give you anything I can, because I can’t give you everything.

And Jungkook’s cock was twitching in your pussy, indicating he was close, his husky moans filling up the room as Yoongi’s own breathing shallowed, drinking in every detail, not wanting to miss any moment of you getting fucked so carnally, sinfully full from front to back, whole body shaking from the previous multiple orgasms. You could tell that he wanted you to feel so much pleasure that you were wrecked and it was working, oh, fuck, it was working as pleasure crawled to every fiber of your being, forgetting that your jaw and pussy were aching, forgetting your knees were basically jelly, forgetting you had any other responsibilities in life except making Yoongi and Jungkook cum with your tight, wet holes, so fueled by adrenaline that you rocked your body back and forth, stimulating both at once.

Your eyes locked with Yoongi’s.

Cum for me.

“I’m close,” he murmured. “Tighter. Choke Jungkook’s cock with your perfect pussy.”

You hollowed your cheeks and squeezed your core. You heard Jungkook yelp, fingertips digging into your ass.

“A-ah, c-can’t hold on…” Jungkook rambled, eyes rolling back, gasping for breath. “You’re so lucky, hyung, fuck, so lucky she’s yours.”

Jungkook smacked his hips into you, once, twice, letting out a deep groan as he came, shooting into you, cock throbbing against your walls as his balls slapped your clit, sending you over the edge as you whined around Yoongi’s cock, feeling it jerk in your mouth as he came down your throat, thick, delicious saltiness sliding down, pooling on your tongue, your pussy pulsing in time with Yoongi, drinking him as your pussy shivered around Jungkook’s cock, milking him dry. Your body shuddered hard, trembling from head to toe, the ferocity of your orgasm rattling you, so much so that it felt like the world was spinning. You popped your mouth off of Yoongi’s cock, sliding down against his thigh, wheezing for oxygen.

Yoongi’s hand instantly came up to touch your shoulder, caressing it tenderly. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, hot breath against his skin, knees sliding down, taking Jungkook with you because he also was at the point of exhaustion. Yoongi frowned at you and you gave him a weak thumbs up, cheekily grinning at him, wiping the spit off your chin with his thigh.

Yoongi narrowed his eyes. “Don’t you thumbs-up me, woman, tell me you’re not dying.”

You leaned against his thigh, sighing as Jungkook pulled out of you.

“I’m very pleased,” you exhaled happily.

“I’m glad the god is satisfied with her sacrifice,” Yoongi remarked dryly, trying to sound annoyed but his affectionate smile gave him away. You smiled back before turning around, finding Jungkook on his back, chest heaving, hair soaked with sweat. You scooted down to him, brushing ash blond strands away from his face. His eyes were closed, pretty lashes against his skin, cheeks flushed pink with exertion.

“I… I can go…” Jungkook mumbled. “Give you guys some alone time and stuff.”

“Jungkook.”

His opened his eyes, brown orbs shifting to you. Apologetic, kind.

“Do you want this to be more?”

His lips curved into a smile. It didn’t quite reach his eyes. “No. This is fine.”

“Don’t lie to her,” Yoongi scolded, moving to sit beside you and glare down at him.

Jungkook swallowed, looking away. “I don’t… I don’t want to be a burden, hyung. I don’t want to ruin your relationship.”

“Don’t you think you would have done that already if that was possible?” Yoongi scoffed, placing his hand on yours, rubbing your knuckles.

Jungkook eyes flickered to your joined hands, then to your face.

“R-Really…?”

You exchanged a glance with Yoongi and he poked your forehead, exasperated.

“Have I not maybe yourself clear with you?” Yoongi grumbled grumpily. His eyes shifted down, letting out a long sigh. “I can’t give you everything. I can’t go on dates. I can’t kiss you in public. I can’t even hold your hand or stand near you outside this fucking door.” The frustration was clear in his voice. You wanted to wrap your arms around him and tell him it was okay, but you resisted, letting him get his words out. He turned to Jungkook, his dark brown eyes serious and sad.

“You can’t do that either, you know? It’s lonely. It sucks. You can only have moments like these, behind closed doors.”

Jungkook looked up at him, expression unreadable.

“Then why… why did you share it with me?”

“Because,” Yoongi started, eyes flickering to you. “Because I wanted to make her happy. Because I can’t do everything, but I can do some things. And because Bangtan is everything to me.” Yoongi was mumbling a little, not used to this level of emotion. “If I can maybe make you happy too, Jungkook, why wouldn’t I try?”

You could see Jungkook was also awkward because this was a delicate situation with even more complicated emotions, made more complex that they were two members of the same idol group, almost like brothers in closeness, held to the same rules and the same restrictions. Jungkook blinked rapidly, clearing his watering eyes. He looked away, hastily rubbing them with the back of his hand.

“Will it… Will it be less lonely if I’m with you, hyung, noona?” The younger man swallowed hard, clearing his vision and looking back up at both of you, brown eyes glassy. “Will it… suck less?”

You smiled, nodding slowly. “It would suck a whole lot less.”

Yoongi made a noise of affirmation, scrunching his nose. He was also blinking quite a bit, although he hid it better than Jungkook did.

Jungkook slid his right hand on the sheets, in front of your joined hands. Yoongi’s eyes darted about before he inhaled deeply, picking up your hand and plopping it on Jungkook’s, sandwiching it between the two larger palms. You pressed your fingertips against Jungkook’s knuckles, feeling Yoongi’s reassuring pat on the back of your hand, warmed from above and below.

Yoongi gave you his usual, apprehensive smile, as if he didn’t know what to do with his face when being told to look happy.

Jungkook grinned, bright bunny teeth flashing, eyes and nose scrunching with affection.

You couldn’t resist.

“Is this allowed?” you asked with a wide smirk.

Yoongi laughed, raspy and pretty.

“Definitely not.”

Jungkook sat up a bit, furrowing his brow as if he just remembered something.

“Wait, what about noona’s private Instagram tho–”

-

part iv “That's not allowed! You know what that does to me.“

--

masterpost

#yoongi x reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #yoongi smut #yoonkook x reader #yoonkook smut #suga x reader #min yoongi smut #jeon jungkook smut #yoongi x you #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #bts smut #suga x you

[goodlucksnez]

All//might & Ai//zawa snz fic

So after reading the latest manga chapter where all//might is standing in the rain for a long time I was like “ummm what if he got sick” so I wrote this

also poni really wanted to read this so i would have written more but its okay maybe another time

WARNING FUCKING ANGST BUT ALSO CUTE

Enjoy 2100 words of y//agi//ai//zawa

“Shouta I’m back.” The lanky former symbol of piece said as he entered the small apartment of the underground hero. As he looked around at the dimly lit interior, he could not help but shudder as the cool air chilled his wet clothes from the rainstorm, he just found himself in. Now that he was retired, he had many hours on his hands and he had spent that time doing all he could in the war against the villains.

This last journey, he found himself back to the site of the battle of his successor and class 1A intending to check on the anti-hero supporters who refused to evacuate. It was raining, and the blonde was slowly getting drenched. However, the cold and numbness that normally came with the rain didn’t seem to bother him anymore, as if all of the feeling had drained from his body and he was left a void. As he looked around at the broken buildings and cobblestone of the street laid before him where the previous battle was held, he couldn’t help but see his statue. He remembered that statue…his signature phrase “I am here” engraved on the bottom in granite stone. He remembered meeting with the sculptor and posing for what seemed like hours.

‘Such a long time ago’ he thought to himself.

The smile that was carved into the stone was so perfect, however as he looked at the wide grin, he felt like he was looking in a fun house mirror. The man he saw portrayed in this stone wasn’t him. He vowed to make the world a better place but now that he reached his end, he saw he failed. The world has turned out even more broken after his retirement and he was unable to protect the one student he promised he would. He felt that he’s gone further away than heroism than anyone else. As tears slowly started to cloud his vision he blinked and saw a cardboard sign held up by a thin piece of rope around the statues neck written on it in red spray paint was “I am not here”. As a shudder passed through his body he was brought back to the current reality. He stepped inside leaving a trail of waterlogged foot prints as he made his way to the kitchen. On the cool stonework countertops, he found a yellow sticky note as he began to read the note, scribbled in messy handwriting, he heard the familiar click of the lock as he turned to face the entryway. He saw the familiar black hair of his partner. As he watched Shouta shook out the umbrella that he had in his hand he spoke up.

“I was just about to read your note.”

The underground hero jumped at the sudden noise and as his piercing eyes fixated on the source of the sound he quickly relaxed when he saw the gentle smile of the former Pro. As he stepped inside and put his key in the bowl, it echoed in the quiet hallway. Shouta then motioned to the multiple bags he was holding.

“Don’t think we want to eat Ramen for the rest of our lives do we? Might be a good idea to get some real food.” he said as he continues to carry them into the kitchen and put them down on the counter.

As he put the bags down, he looked over at the wisp of the man standing before him. His diminished stature had taken a toll on his health. Tired eyes sat in sunken-in-sockets. His normally vibrant school bus yellow hair had turned to a grayish yellow mustard color and even though he would never admit it, he saw the clump of hair in the trashcan every morning. He was dying. It was an unspoken truth in their relationship but the underground hero would do anything to make sure he was happy and healthy in the final years of his life. He deserved that after all didn’t, he?

As he began emptying the bags onto the counter, he couldn’t help but notice the puddle of water that seem to be growing larger under the thin man, however Yagi continue to shiver and shake too preoccupied reading a can of tuna. As Shouta reached for the can, he met the eyes and said in a gravelly voice.

“You should change out of those clothes don’t want you catching a cold now do we?”

The former pro simply smiled although it was hard to fully sell it as he turned his head and coughed violently into his soaking arm sleeve. Immediately Shouta furrowed his brow and when he met the gaze of him again, he was quickly put in his place.

“Shouta how many times do I have to tell you, my health isn’t a concern of mine…it’s an undeniable fact, besides you don’t actually get sick from the rain.”

Shouta quickly interjected. “No but you could get hypothermia,” he began to plead “come on will you change out of those clothes…for me.”

As the older man sighed there was a clear rasp in his voice before he nodded quietly and turned to leave, his shoes squeaking on the tile floor as he left the kitchen.

After all the food was put away Shouta turned on the tea kettle to warm some water knowing full well that even with the warmest clothes Yagi could never be warm. As he walked slowly down the hall passing the bathroom and the study, he found himself at the door of their bedroom. He could hear fabric rustling but before he could enter another sound echoed throughout the house.

“hih'TSS-heh!”

A harsh sneeze echoed in the still apartment. ‘Even in his weakened state his sneeze is powerful’ Shouta thought to himself as he pushed on the door letting it slowly swing open. The image before him would startle anyone who knew All Might in his prime. The man had an oversized baggy red wool sweater in his hands. His silhouette illuminated by the ceiling light above seemed sickly and weak. The scar near his appendix which had a spider like web pattern that spread through his torso, as if venom was slowly poisoning his body was in full view. Yagi was bent at the waist and as he brought his other hand up to wipe that his nose Shouta could see small irritation tears had sprung to his eyes.

Shouta took a few steps forward and whispered a quiet bless you, a phrase his dear friend Mic had told him before his departure from this world.

Yagi quickly regained his posture and a slight blush crept into his sickly skin. He muttered a quick thank you before bunching up the wool sweater in a vain attempt to put it on. Shouta reached out his hands and slowly grasped the fabric and as the blonde bent forward, he quickly but diligently guided his his head through the hole in the sweater followed by both his arms.

Once the sweater was on the frail man’s body, he went to the nightstand which was stacked high with different medicines as well as vitamins and other health supplies and grabbed a travel pack size of tissues, before handing one to his partner.

In a voice gravelly but still soft and concerned he asked. “Did you catch a cold?”

All Might sighed his breathe with a distant wheeze could be heard, simply shook his head in agreement before sitting down on the chest at the end of the bed. He then put his head in his hands. ‘Why am I like this, he thought to himself ‘I have someone who generally cares about me and yet I hide, I know I failed as a hero but I have a failed him as a partner as well?’ He quickly turned his head to the side as a fearsome tickle demanded his attention.

ESH!... AhhhttTZZschhuw!...iyy-ih-ESH!"

The sneezes rack through his body leaving him panting slightly. As his lung struggled to breathe, he sniffed at the thick congestion and wiped his nose on the tissue that Shouta and handed him minutes before. As he looked up, he was surprised to find the room in front of him was oddly empty he called out in the voice louder than he intended.

“Sho where have you gone?”

A reply quickly followed “I’m making your favorite soup lay down in the bed will you…also bless you.”

He followed the order he was given and as he climbed into the black satin bed, he couldn’t help but shiver as his body demanded more heat. He found that he was always cold these days, no matter how much he bundled up. It was as if no heat could be retained in this frail body that he now called home. Within minutes Shouta entered the room but to his surprise with an assortment of things. He had a tray, one you would see in an old movie where the wife would dot on his husband, it was decorated in a sheer white tablecloth decorated with pink flowers. It had a bowl of a steaming liquid as well as two mugs and a vase full of sunflowers. As there are sickly sweet smell drifted in the room and Yagi couldn’t help but smile.

“You remembered, my favorite flowers.” He said with a voice thick with congestion. As Shouta sat the tray down over Yagi’s lap and climbed onto the bed, he smiled a slight blush sprung to his cheeks before he spoke.

“You told me a long time ago that you admired sunflowers for their optimism. You said it’s a form of gratitude because it honors the gift of life, always growing towards that bright sun,” his voice cracked as he spoke again “you told me that it turns its head to face the rising sun in the east and it follows the path across the sky throughout the day…. it’s that determination that you admired and that’s what I admire about you…even when you are being stupid.”

The two sat in silence for a few moments before the dull blonde turned to the side and harshly sneezed a triple.

“H-hhdihtt! Hhdddtschhhuww!!...hUDD’tschhuuuw!!”

 Shouta quickly handed him a tissue and began spooning the hot liquid onto the spoon he had brought.

“Open up Sunlight.” The blonde chuckled. “I’m not a child Sho I can feed myself.”

He replied “I know but I promised to take care of you, so just let me do this.”

“Very well” Yagi said as Shouta began to spoon feed the hot liquid into his mouth. The soup was warm and comforting, a hint chicken as well as carrots and other vegetables immediately filled the blonde’s mouth. It was delicious and he quickly swallowed as Shouta filled the spoon once more. But as he drew the steaming liquid closer to the blondes face the steam irritated his nose and he found himself pinching forward.

Hhdddtschhhuww!

As he sneezed, he hit his head on the spoon causing the spoon to fall and land in the soup creating a splash and slightly scolding the skin of both of the pros. Yagi would’ve laughed himself if he wasn’t preoccupied continuing to sneeze.

“N’doe…hHHT! hhnnkkKSCCHHhhuw!! ESHHHUHhhh!! Can hhtt-hhHHh! Hiitt’usszhhuh!! Sto hh-h stop hHHh! Hiitt’usszhhuh!! ESHHHUHhhh!!

Shouta quickly slid the tray to the side table and gently straddled the former symbol of peace. As the blonde continue to sneeze Shouta commanded for him to lift his head. As Yagi did, Shouta pressed hard against the cupid bow of his upper lip and almost immediately then sensation of needing to sneeze dissipated and Yagi breathed a sigh of relief. As he sniffed, he opened his watery eyes to look at a Shouta whose face was determined.

He asked while sniffling back congestion “snf snff ugh what are you doing?”

Shouta smirked before replying “I’ve learned a few things in my day, such as there are certain pressure points in the face that aid in congestion for example.” As he moved his hands to the sunken in cheekbones of the thin man and Yagi, he could feel his sinuses drain and his sighed in relief again.

“Thank you” Yagi basically moaned as the underground hero retracted his hands.

“I’m afraid it won’t last, but for the moment you will stop sneezing which is an improvement on your health…also bless you like 15 times I think.” Shouta said with chuckle “Now how about we both lay down and head to bed.”

Yagi smiled and replied “I love that idea as much as I love you.”

FIN

#sneeze #sneezy #snez #i keep sneezing #sneeze kink #sneezefic #My writing #my fanfic #myfanfic #My fic #sneezefanfiction #sneezefanfic #bnha aizawa #bnha #all might #mha yagi

[develation]

SCP AU

So @emeraldtrainer1 (Ao3), @writingforfunandbecauseboredom (Ao3), and DarkstarWolf53 (<-Dunno if they have Tumblr) did an SCP AU three-way Convo fic some months ago. I really enjoyed the outline and concept and asked if I could expand on it. With their permission and about a month of research into what the actual SCP Foundation is (and holy cow there is so much, no wonder people are all over this) I've finally managed to get a start on this. There is a decent amount of things that are different from their original Convo (via their permission) but it will basically follow the same storyline that they created. Please go check their Convo out, it's a very long and fun read with a lot of good fluff and Angst mixed in.

I will hopefully be drawing some of my designs soon but for now, writing seems to be the way to go. Here is a link to it on Ao3 -> https://archiveofourown.org/works/33213928/chapters/82464553

I'll also have it below in case you would like to read it on Tumblr instead.

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Error: (The End Of All But Me.) There are too many unworldly traits that spiders have that I couldn't just not give to Error, so I've kind of combined their Puppetmaster concept to my design. He has 4 arms with clawed fingertips, his tail is prehensile and his jaw can split open. He has 5 tongues still, 2 of them are spear-like, and can shoot out and impale victims. The saliva produced under the tips of the barbs on the two tongues can liquidity a prey items insides so he can drink them up (still a clean freak, using the skin as a cup and drinking up any mess leaving a skin bag behind). His other three tongues are prehensile and can extend to an unknown length, they are barbed aswell but do not carry the venomous saliva. Strings wrap along his bones from his eye sockets, which he uses to create a nest atop the ceiling of his cell.

SCP-002's (Apollyon class) cell is a blank room (it ask for a TV later on) that goes up vertically 2 floors. The top half is required to be shrouded in darkness as it likes voids of either white or black. It has filled the darkness of its cell with a nest of strings that it spends all of its time in, even when feeding. It does not attempt to attack staff, when asked why it replied with, "Not yet." Personal have not been able to decipher what it means by that statement. In an interview via speakers and mics within containment cell, it was asked why SCP-002 stares off at seemingly nothing for extended periods of time and never touches the ground. Subject responded with, "Busy." When asked what it was busy doing- "Watching." When asked what it was watching- "The world. Everything." Due to this experience, it can be concluded that 002 can view any place in the world and perhaps beyond via "screens". These "screens" are unviewable to anyone but 002 and 001 as the latter SCP had called them so, hence their given name. SCP-002 has a strange relationship with SCP-001 and it can not be determined if 002 likes or dislikes 001.

Ink created Error on accident. In the beginning, Ink didn't know what he was doing, and the brutality of Earth's natural forces of destruction were uncontrollable. If he wanted to bring life to his chosen planet he needed a way to control the chaos. And so through the storm, a new force was born. And even if Ink didn't create it, he did wish for it.

Error is a ticking time bomb for extinction. He waits and watches until he decides it's time for a "spring cleaning" and starts his work. The Ordovician, Late Devonian, Permian, Triassic, and Cretaceous mass extinctions were all him. He deemed the human race ready for a "cleaning" a long time ago and Ink agreed with him, ready to see and make something new. But Nightmare threatened the both of them by stating that he would make the earth forever inhabitable and they would have to kill him before he stoped his rage. Nightmare fears that if another extinction event were to occur he'd lose his boys.

Ink: (God doesn't care about what's right or what's wrong. God just wants to watch interesting things happen.) His form is always changing, different traits from different animals and organisms he's created. Ink is basically Gaia. Born when Theia crashed into Earth around 4.5 billion years ago, he made everything that ever existed. Since he's made A LOT of organisms he has a ton of favorites and the traits from them are what mostly show up when he mutates. Sometimes it's Kaprosuchus with belonged snout and fangs. Sometimes it's Tylosaurus with its marine reptilian posterior. Sometimes it's Chital Deer and their antlers. More often than not though, his tail has consistently stated having bristle-like hair at the tip of it, which is basically his brush. The concept of paintbrushes is pretty new to him since the human race has been around for a short time compared to other species, so while he does have one, his tail is his broomie. If his next from doesn't have it then he just uses his hands and his blood.

Ink can't be contained. It's that simple, he just can't. He just sticks around because it's interesting and hilarious to see his creations so intelligent but so stupid. (remember how humans are still young in terms of Earth's age, so the fact that they're so smart... on a thought level that could almost match his own is so very interesting to see and watch. even if there ruining his planet.) The SCP foundation just has to let him do his thing and hope that he doesn't override 003's and 004's decision to not have an extinction event.

His cell is basically a mini-ecosystem, with all of his favorite organisms living within whether they are extinct or not. He loves his little sample of the world and it keeps him in his cell for a good amount of time so the foundation let him have it. If any of them even touch what is HIS without permission then he rips them apart and feeds them to the baby Rhamphorhynchus. Don't touch his babies.

...Cross though... he can touch his babies... and Dream... and maybe Error... That's it though!

SCP-001 (Apollyon Class) is a being older than all living things, despite his toddler-like mannerisms. Even more infuriating, within an interview, 001 openly admitted to being the cause of all SCP's and their anomalous effects. It stated that they were all just mistakes and/or experiments, testing the limits of their own abilities. 001's quoted response- "You don't get it do you? I made everything here! All of your little "SCP's" are just of my creation as all of you. Sure there all mistakes but, it just proves my point that it's time to start over again. A clean slate y'know? Pfft- wow you look mad! If it makes you feel any better, I don't like most of them either. They were cool at first but... it's like flicking black paint over a finished painting. Sure, you can try to get over it but eventually, it will just bother you so much that you just can't stand it! Well... I do kinda want some of them to stay... If I could just convince Ru..." -shows evidence to this conclusion. Termination trials were approved by the 05 Council, though have not been able to start since 001's creation of a barrier around its cell, preventing entry of anything that tries to pass.

[Note: Error, Dream, and Nightmare are not included in what Ink views as "mistakes". Y'know when you're trying something new and you don't know what you’re doing, yet it works somehow. That's them, happy accidents. Ink adores them.]

Ink finds the attempt of Termination trials on him to be absolutely hilarious. The fact that humanity's insecurity about their lifespan and control is so great that they'd try to KILL HIM. Amazing. He can't believe he's managed to make the simultaneously best and worst organism ever.

Dream: (When day breaks.)  Again he was accidentally created by Ink’s actions in an intense solar storm. The flare drifting over the earth in combination with Ink’s magic still working to bring life brought him to existence. Dream’s design is almost harpy-like, with beautiful golden, sun-like wings with a small feathery crest atop his skull. Two tail-like feathers sprout from the crest that can rise up and down depending on expression and mood. He also has bird feet and legs, and a tail.

Dream adores all life, his is the warmth and growth of the sun (original form being a ball of light and plasma that literally looks like a mini sun). He is basically like a piece of the sun on earth. His cell is kinda like Ink’s, only in the fact that there are just a couple of animal species. Some deer, birds, and insects mainly. Ink obviously just appeared in his cell one day and made it for him. While Dream could be considered to be a Safe SCP, his ability to damage or completely ruin the planet if inraged prevents that classification.

SCP-003 (Apollyon Class) has proven to be a relatively docile creature. It is elegant in nature (like that of a bird) and shows greater empathy towards all life in general. Unlike SCP’s 001, 002, and 004 who view it as more interesting and admirable, more like a pretty crystal than an actual being with its own consciousness. 003 can not be fully contained and has shown the ability to travel through light rays. Its aura has also shown to be some form of anesthesia, and exposure for prolonged periods causes victims to feel more at peace and calm. 003 does have the capability to travel through the “dreamscape”, what exactly that in tails is unknown.

Dream doesn’t agree with the extinction event thing because the Holocene period hasn’t lasted for nearly as long as it should. On the other hand, he does distaste humanity/monsterkind for all it has done to the planet. Even so, he feels like they deserve more of a chance.

Nightmare: (Does the Black Moon howl?)(Death) Complete with the theme of being Dreams opposite, Nightmare was born from a black moon and the combination of Ink’s magic bringing life to the earth. He isn’t an evil force or anything, just the night to the day. His design is pretty true to OG nightmare, although his legs and feet share the same digitigrade format. His tentacles are more ghostly than slimy and they drip upwards instead of towards the ground. His bones also have a ghost;y wisp to them, but it isn’t that noticeable. Instead of only having a turquoise glint in his magic, there are sparks of purple aswell. (His original form being a black sphere of what looks like smoke).

His cell is basically an entrance to a cave system that Ink had made for him. Inside is a galaxy of crystals and gemstones that glow and sparkle like the night sky. A small stream runs through, the light refracting off of the water, adding to the glow effect. It is a nice calm place for Nightmare to just chill in, his separate own little world.

Nightmare is kind of mysterious, in the realm of Error in which he likes to watch things happen. Just lurking in the shadows, a quiet observer. Though, he wasn’t as fascinated by life as the others. So to prevent his boredom Ink made him a present- Killer. Nightmare hated the little thing at first but it didn’t take too long to grow fond of the little guy. Not too long later Ink pronounced his joy in watching Nightmare sigh in frustration by sending 2 more bundles his way -Dust and Horror- and Nightmare had to threaten Ink to stop before any more joined the fray.

SCP-004 (Apollyon Class) is an entity whose intentions are completely unknown. A mysterious being that chooses to dwell in the cave system 001 made for it. The entity refuses to interact with personal unless in interview. And when it does respond, it does so in riddles and metaphors. It seemingly takes joy asking more questions than the interviewer, turning the conversation in its favor. On such question that has been repeated multiple times - “Does the Black Moon howl?” has puzzled personal. Though 004 states that if answered correctly and explained why, then it will share its secrets with that person and that person only.

004 proves to be uncontainable like its counterparts, able to travel through shadows. SCP’s 012, 032, and 024 seem to be “followers” of 004, and regularly go missing from their cells. Most likely 004’s doing.

[Ink created Killer, Dust, and Horror during the era where dinosaurs were still alive, so they have some traits from them.]

Killer: (War) Was created by Ink for Nightmare to keep him entertained. Killer was born as a baby in Ink’s very hands, a little skeleton with curved blades for hands and digitigrade legs and feet (and little quills on his back). Growing up under Nightmare’s care was an interesting experience, but he thought Kill’s everything he needed to know.

-[SCP-012, Keter]-

Killer is fast, very fast. And he enjoys killing things (what a surprise). He’s pretty much the same cocky boi as always. His more SCP side is that he doesn’t seem to ever feel pain and the black liquid that leaks through his eyes. That can be used as a type of venomous toxin to whatever he pleases.

Dust: (Pestilence) You know Epidexipteryx and Therizinosaurus? Those are Dust hands, long with even longer claws. He can also turn into literal dust, more of a phantom or wraith in nature. He can walk through walls, and turn others to dust and grow himself if he wishes.

He and Horror could be twins since Ink made them both at the same time. Holding his little creations in his arms as they wriggled and whined in confusion at suddenly being alive.

-[SCP-032, Keter]-

Dust is pretty quiet and tame. He has his episodes but he stays pretty much the same as bookwrym’s, writing’s, and Dark’s Dust.

Horror: (Famine) Since Horror is a vent crawler I based his design on that. Horror’s second set of arms are like a praying mantis with an extra joint, hands serrated blades almost like Killer’s. He used to sit in trees and wait for prey to walk underneath him, plucking them from the ground with his long arms and eating them alive.

Same thing when in vents, just waits over the openings and plucks a person off of the ground and into the vent (if personal don’t keep up with his feeding times)

-[SCP-024, Euclid]-

Other than his design Horror is pretty much the same as bookwyrm’s, writing’s, and Dark’s concept.

Outer: [SCP-044, Safe] His stardust makes him have luminescent galaxy and star patterns on his bones. He floats regularly without control over it and can sometimes make other objects float, in rare cases people, aswell. Ink made him a jacket where pieces of its hood and aglets float off like a sort of fluffy foam. The pieces orbit him like planets to a star before joining back, making a continuous cycle.

(And yes writingforFUN, he will still keep his anime sparkling eyelight’s).

Cross: [SCP-00X, Thaumiel] Was created by Dr. X to help contain and terminate Keter SCP’s. Being forced to kill his brother when he turned Keter, not completely in control of his actions. Dr. X’s “programing” making him see his brother no longer as such, just an object to be eliminated. When Cross became uncontrollable Dr. X put wiped his memory without the 05’s or administers permission and an MTF was sent after him that came back empty-handed. Cross was brought back soon enough and had his memory wiped.

They bring him back in as a staff member and that’s when the story kicks off, mostly following bookwyrm’s, writingforFUN, and Dark’s original outline/convo.

(I apologize for any typos)

#undertale au #scp au #writing

[moonknightly]

My Best Habit : Santiago “Pope” Garcia x Reader

Word Count: 2.1k+

Request: “I know it’s late, but I don’t know where else to turn.” + love proclamation from a “drabble” game | @damerondjarin​

Warnings: Slightly suggestive, mentions of an abusive relationship, unedited writing, Santi is a little sad but he gets a happy ending. Cursing, as always because it’s me. 

Santiago’s eyes snapped open at the sound of a sharp bang reverberating through his small apartment. He jumped, sitting up quickly, his heart racing in his chest as adrenaline flooded his veins. He cursed gently, digging his palms into his eye sockets. Loud, unanticipated noises still freaked him out every now and again, causing a near overwhelming sense of urgency and sometimes even dread.

Panic. He hated it.

He shook his head, running a hand through his short, graying curls, trying to gather his bearings, willing himself to calm down, but it was useless. Santi knew he wouldn’t be able to fully do so until he figured out where the noise had come from. Discharged for years, and he was still so always on guard.

And so he took a look around the room, thoroughly scanning his surroundings, trying to figure out what exactly had woken him up.

The glow from the TV was nearly blinding, his eyes having not fully adjusted yet to the room around him, but the volume was turned nearly all the way down. He knew for certain that he’d locked all of the doors and windows on top of setting the security system, so he knew it wasn’t an intruder. Nothing seemed to be lying on the ground, having fallen over on its own. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Maybe he’d been dreaming.

But right before he moved to lay back down, the noise sounded again, and this time, he was confused for an entirely different reason. It was without a doubt the sound of a fist pounding against his front door, but it was also the middle of the night — far too late for anyone to be out, let alone bothering him. He sighed a second time, swinging his legs off the couch (he really needed to stop falling asleep there) before moving to answer the door.

The second he saw it was you through the peephole, standing there with tears falling down red cheeks, the panic he’d pushed down instantly returned, but this time, he wasn’t scared. He was worried.

He unarmed the security system, removed the chain, undid the deadbolts, and threw the door open, his hands instantly reaching to take both of yours.

“Cariño, what’s going on?” he asked, his voice gentle and soft.

You could only shake your head, and the look of pure hopelessness that entered your eyes made his heart shatter just a bit more in his chest. He hated to see a woman cry, but he hated it even more when that woman was you.

Santiago pulled on your hands, starting to lead you into his apartment. “Come on, it’s fucking freezing out there.”

You’d hardly noticed, but Pope only frowned further when he felt how violently your body was shaking from the cold.

He shut the door behind you both, securing it again, hands on autopilot — a habit, one that he considered to be his best — before leading you towards his couch, taking the blanket that was still extra warm from his body heat and draping it around your shoulders. He made sure you were nice and bundled up, then walked himself towards his kitchen, looking for any hot beverage he could serve you that didn’t include caffeine.

There was still a canister full of little bags of your favorite Sleepytime tea.

He immediately grabbed it, ignoring the small pang in his chest as he did so, adding water to the kettle and setting it on the stove to boil. He peeked back into the living room to check on you, watching you for a moment as you simply stared at a random spot on the floor. Something had happened, and he was desperate to know what, but he also needed a moment to wrap his head around the fact that you were there, sitting on his couch after months.

No, no. He needed to focus on you. He could dwell later.

Pope shook his head, drumming his fingers against the countertop, tapping his foot impatiently as he waited for the water to boil. He took out a teabag from the canister, setting it in the first mug he happened to grab, then moved to put the tin back in its place, but he froze.

Months. It had been months since you had even spoken to him, and he still had your favorite tea stashed right next to his coffee that he made every single morning. He tried to tell himself that it was just an oversight, just something he hadn’t noticed, but he’d be lying if he said his eyes didn’t catch on that goddamned tea every single day and linger there until he could pull himself away.

It was a final piece of himself holding onto a memory, a ghost — a fleeting image he was so desperate to catch and hold in the palm of his hand once more. He was desperate to hold you again.

And you were sitting there, in his living room, but this reunion wasn’t at all how he had imagined over and over again in his head. You still felt so out of reach.

And maybe that was the reason that he turned away from the counter and walked towards the trashcan, throwing the entire canister away, letting the lid slam shut.

He couldn’t handle the ghosts anymore.

Pope didn’t realize the kettle was whistling at first, but he quickly took it off the burner, pouring just enough into your mug before carrying it back into the living room and setting it in front of you. You looked away from the floor and towards the steaming cup, blinking at it a couple of times.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, voice almost timid.

Santi nudged you gently, a silent “you’re welcome”.

And then there was more silence. More deafening silence that was driving him crazy, because it wasn’t comfortable like it used to be. Not at all. It was filled with tension and anxiety and so many unanswered questions.

The biggest question at the moment though?

“Why are you here?”

More silence. His stomach sank even further, churning. He’d never seen you so unresponsive or closed off before and he wanted to help you more than anything in that moment, despite the fact that his chest still ached from the sight of you alone.

“You gonna tell me what happened or are you just gonna sit there and stare at nothing?”

He wanted to help, but he’d never been the most empathetic.

Your eyes finally fluttered over towards him, though you kept your gaze set on his nose instead of on his own eyes. Those deep, beautiful brown eyes.

“I know it’s late,” you mumbled, thinking he was annoyed or upset that you had come to him at such a late hour, after you treated him the way that you did. “But I didn’t know where else to turn.”

He furrowed his eyebrows, your words confusing him even further. “I don’t understand.”

You sighed gently, taking the mug in your hands, letting it warm your skin as you waited for it to steep and cool down a little more. “I really fucked up, Santi.”

“What happened?”

He watched as you suddenly grew embarrassed, looking away from him again, instead focusing your attention on a random string hanging from your jeans. The quick switch in emotions had his head spinning.

“We were in bed-”

Santiago nearly growled at the reminder of the reason why you stopped speaking to him. He, your boyfriend or fuckbuddy or whatever he was, didn’t like it when you talked to other men, and that included Santi.

You’d picked him over Santi, your best friend. You’d picked someone manipulative and controlling and Pope still hadn’t been able to understand how it had been so easy to abandon him for someone like that, how you of all people could be so blinded. But then he remembered his earlier adjectives — manipulative and controlling.

A little bit of his earlier anger and irritation returned.

“-and I moaned your name.”

And then it was gone again, replaced by...Pope didn’t even know what. Surprise? Happiness? Maybe just a hint of pride?

But that quickly vanished as well, the worry prevailing once more.

“Did he hurt you?” he asked, voice slightly panicked, hands shooting out to check you for some sort of bruise or injury. He swore to God, he was going to kill him if he even thought-

“No,” you answered, shaking your head slowly, hands taking Santi’s, holding them tightly. “No, he didn’t hurt me.”

He sighed a breath of relief, nodding his head slowly.

You didn’t tell him that you were scared he was going to, though, once he stewed in his anger for a while longer, and that was why you had decided to come to Santi’s place instead of going home, since he didn’t know where Pope lived.

“I’m done with him,” you mumbled when he didn’t say anything, finally turning your gaze back to him. “I mean it. I’m not going back to him.”

Santiago relaxed at your words, just a little bit, and he could tell that you were being sincere.

He also felt like a complete ass, blaming you for something that wasn’t entirely your fault, not really. You’d made the initial choice to be with the complete asshat, sure, but he knew it wasn’t your decision to stay away from him. He knew you’d felt trapped.

And so he found himself apologizing to you, reminding you of how you deserved so much better, how he’d always have your six through anything and everything. You sat there and you talked and talked and talked, until another bout of silence settled over you both, but it wasn’t uncomfortable this time. You were both just processing, trying to adjust to all of the information running rampant through your head. Santi finally looked at you, and you couldn’t not look into his eyes this time, lips twitching up into a small smile. He smirked.

“You moaned my name, huh?”

“Shut up,” you groaned, swatting at his chest, stomach flipping with embarrassment.

“You think about me often while you’re getting off, sweetheart?” His expression and his tone were both smug, but you knew he wasn’t really making fun of you, only teasing.

Your own smirk found its way onto your face. “Yeah,” you deadpanned, shrugging your shoulders as if your words held no weight.

Santi’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head, and he choked on his own spit, coughing afterwards though he tried desperately to play it off, wanting to appear unaffected.

He swallowed thickly. “What a coincidence,” he mused, still holding your gaze. “I can’t get off unless I’m thinking about you.”

Your entire body felt like it was on fire at his admission, and all you could do was hold his eye contact, heart hammering in your chest.

And while your words might’ve been suggestive, and your hands might’ve started to wander, everything you saw in his eyes was nothing of the like.

It was something pure, and sincere.

You saw love. You saw patience and kindness and forgiveness. And that silent declaration meant far more to you than anything else in that moment.

And Santiago saw the same reflecting in yours as he slid himself into you after kissing you brainless and touching every inch of your perfect body with his fingertips, the eye contact never wavering, the love only growing.

And in the morning, when you both woke up and moved into the kitchen to start breakfast together, you smiled upon seeing your canister of tea in the same place it had always been to your knowledge.  

Santi had gotten up in the middle of the night and taken it out of the trash, washing it thoroughly before setting it back on the counter next to his coffee.

He couldn’t live with the ghosts anymore, but he couldn’t live without you.

His best habit.

#santiago pope garcia #santiago pope garcia x reader #triple frontier #triple frontier x reader #triple frontier imagine

[dreamer213]

Broken machines: Lights The Dark

Chapter 1 Lovely Day

Italicized: Narration

Bold: Inner Thoughts

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Staring at the foot of Pyrrha Nikos I am broken and helpless. I can not move, I can not hear anything, half of my body has been torn off and is laying a foot away from the rest of me, and my vision is fading.

My systems, my strength, even my voice are…failing.

EVERYTHING IS FAILING! ITS SO DARK! I CANT SEE ANYTHING! I CANT GET UP! MY LEGS! I CANT MOVE! I CANT! I CANT! GENERAL! DAD! ANYONE! SOMEBODY PLEASE HELP ME!

This is horrible. I feel like I still being crushed. I feel-I feel… Scared? It this what scared feels like? Or is it….. death? Am I dying? No no NO! That can’t be it! This can’t be it! I just made my first friends, I just entered my first Vytal Festival Tournament, I just started really living my life it can’t just end. Not here not like this……….Daddy please help me.

…..I….I don’t want to die.

I DON’T WANNA DIE!!!!!!

At that moment Penny’s eyes shot open as she wakes from her nightmare. She sits up in a state of pure distress, taking short panicked breaths, her pajamas and hair are disheveled and the cable in her back ,the connector for her power station, has become loose from its socket from her violent shaking. She looks down at the blanket covering the lower half of her body, with a shaky hand Penny pulls back the covers to reveal not the broken and mangled pair from her nightmare but a set of perfectly attached, full intact, pale and freckle dusted legs. This sight calms her and pulls Penny full out of her daze, she pulls the cable out then flops down on the bed, her eyes glow softly.

Systems Overview:

Optics: Fully Functional

Hearing: Fully Functional

Nerves: Fully Functional

Weapons Systems: Fully Functional

Temperature Gauge: Fully Functional

Power Storage: Fully Functional………………

All Systems Are Functioning And Full Operational.

Penny: Pffft, It was just another dream. That marks two weeks and four days between this dream and the last dream, five weeks and two days from the one before that and two months from very the first. I’ll have to inform the General about this if it continues.

She shakes her head in dismissal

….No that would be useless. Informing him will result in me being sent to the lab for some diagnostic tests and a few scans. And since my systems aren’t showing any signs of error it’ll just be waste of time and resources. And we can’t afford to waste more of ether. Not now (Sighs).

She reaches into the drawer of her nightstand and pulls out a book and pen, she makes a few quick notes then return the items to their place, gets up, and begins her preparations for day ahead. She brushes her teeth, changes into her work clothes, tidies up her hair, puts on and securing her rocket boots, grabs her backpack, then heads down stairs. Right after turning back around for one last mirror check before she goes.

She arrives down stairs to see her Dad setting up the table with two plates of breakfast and two mugs, one filled with coffee, the other strawberry milk. As he finishes up Pietro spots Penny making her way towards him. He smiles brightly, his little girl is up bright and early again today.

Pietro: Good Morning, Sunshine of mine.

Penny: Good morning Dad.

Pietro: How are you doing this morning?

Penny: I am functioning optimally and all my systems and programs are running correctly.

Pietro: What about the “dreams” ? Are you still having them?

Penny: N-no I have not. (Hiccup)

Pietro: Uh Huh. Now Penny you know that I love you ,and you know I will always be there whenever you need me. But I can’t help you when you need me if you don’t tell me.

Penny: But there isn’t anything you can do about this. This isn’t an error or virus or anything to do with my specs or my hardware, there’s nothing wrong with me for you to fix.

Pietro: Not everything is matter fixing broken parts, sometimes it’s more a matter understanding emotions and talking about hardships. I’d be happy to help you with both whenever you want.

Penny: Thank you Dad but I do not think that will be of any significant help with this problem. And with the increase of my responsibilities, the rise in overall military activity and “ the project” I cannot add another issue to my daily routine. So please let’s just leave this problem be, just for little while.

Pietro: I understand I wouldn’t bother you about anymore. Now come here eat your breakfast, the foods getting cold.

Penny: Dad I don’t need to eat.

Pietro: But you can eat and makes you happy, isn’t that a good enough reason for doing it.

Penny: Okay, okay but I only have ten minutes and fifty three seconds to spare. If I stay any longer I’ll be running behind schedule.

Pietro: Well we can’t have that now can we? Better sit down and eat while you can!

Penny quickly takes a seat in front of her plate. She looks at her meal, two sunny side up eggs two pieces of welled spiced sausage and white toast cut into two triangles. She takes a deep inhale, picks up her fork, and takes her first bite. The eggs have warm welcoming taste as the yolk isn’t too runny and the whites are just the right amount of chewy. The sausage is tender and juicy, the rich meat flavor with a of spicy kick makes hard to stop from eating too fast. And rounding up the plate the wonderful toast has come out just right today, not too soft nor too burnt with a generous amount of butter on top. A pure blanket of soft crunchy buttery goodness. But once the food all gone the only way to finish up a proper breakfast is with a morning beverage. For today that morning beverage is cold and sweet strawberry milk. A creamy and sweet way to put some sugar and vitamin D into your morning.

It’s nothing special really, just a simple everyday meal but for Penny ,someone so new to the practice of eating and enjoying food, it is a moment of pure and utter bliss.~

Penny: Delicious as always, thanks Dad.

Penny gets up and turns to leave.

Pietro: Wait! Aren’t you forget something?

Penny: The dishes?

Pietro: No.

Pietro goes over to her, spreads his arms out, and gestures to her.

Penny: Oh!

Penny leans down and warps her arms around him. She stays like this just long enough to soak in her father’s warmth, he give her a kiss on the head as she pulls away.

Pietro: I love you Sweetheart.

Penny: I love you too Dad. I’ll be home before 10 pm.

Penny walks to the door gives her dad a quick wave and is out the door. Once on the streets she clicks the heels of her rocket boots to active them then takes off into the sky to begin her daily responsibilities.

7:30 AM to 12:00 PM Patrol Mantle’s streets

After a quick aerial scan of streets below Penny lands a starts to survey the area, everything seems to be in order store owners are opening their shop doors, groups of children are walking to school, the buses transporting the mine and factory workers, though noticeably less full then usual, are running according to the schedule, and the late night patrons of Sammy’s Pub are finally heading home from another night of intoxication. Mr. Calves, a man known for being a destructive alcoholic, is slumped against the building and losing consciousness fast.

Penny: Mr. Calves please leave this area and return to your home immediately. The owner of this establishment has already stated several times that you can no longer loiter here after business hours and has asked to have you trespassed if you refuse.

Claves looks at Penny with disgust as he shakily stands up. He downs the remaining liquid in his bottle, he then swings the empty bottle at Penny’s head! Once the bottle is within inches of her face Penny grips him by his forearm, applying just enough pressure to stopping him in his tracks. While holding him steadily Penny calmly takes the bottle from his hand and gingerly places it on ground, straights up Calves’s clothes, then looks up and makes eye contact.

Penny: I repeat please leave the area and return home. Or I will have you trespassed and will have to take you to the near military station.

Calves finally takes the hit and skiddes away. As he leaves Penny turns her attention back towards the streets just in time to see a group of small children heading to school. A little boy with light blue hair and a little gap in his teeth notices her while walking with his friends.

“Hey it’s Ms. Penny!” he shouts, this grabs the attention of the other children as they all turn their heads at the mention of the friendly neighborhood protector.

Soon there was swarm of little hands waving wildly and a chorus of “Hi Ms. Penny” “Good Morning Ms. Protector” and “ Hi Ms. Hero” can be heard from blocks away as the parents tried their hardest to get their awestruck children to keep on their way with little success. Penny smiled brightly and waved back at them, this had become her favorite part of her morning patrols since she was tasked with the role of Mantle’s Protector. After a month or so of handling both the Grimm and crime in Mantle the people had began to recognize her as somewhat of a neighborhood hero. Although they would not approach her often most adults would wave to her as she passes by them during patrols. The children would look at her with fascination and wonder asking all sorts of questions like how she flew, why was she was so strong, and if she could give them a ride on her back while she fled around! And the elder, especially the older woman, would treat her like one would a sweet child, telling her not to stay out too late, reminding her to wear thicker clothes when it got cold, and would give her small treats like candies, small cookies, and leftover baked goods whenever they had the chance.

This is what gives her work so much meaning. The comfort and happiness she saw in their eyes, that’s what Penny was protecting, that’s what she’d repeat to herself whenever things got difficult. As long as the people, her people, were safe she could handle whatever role or new responsibility the higher ups decide to throw at her. As long as she could fight they could smile and as long they could smile she could fight.

“RING” “RING” “RING”

Penny’s scroll rings, a loud blaring alarm, it’s a status update from the security officers in charge of the surveillance drones there are two on going altercation happening sixteen blocks away, a small fire twelve blocks east, One large Grimm at the southern most edge that’s proving to be a problem for the morning squadron, and a small pack of Grimm making their way towards one of mines due southeast. In summary a normal morning in Mantle.

Penny: And like clockwork my morning peace has comes to an end. If I help with the fire first and handle the altercations a few blocks ahead then fly max speed across town to get to the Grimm I should be able to cut off the pack just before they reach the mine.

She puts her scroll away and turns to take off but not before giving the crowd one more wave as she clicks her heels and twirls as she jets up into the air. She then does a very showy wink and peace sign for the crowd and flys off.

1:00pm to 4:00 pm Training With Military Huntsman

After cutting off and taking down the pack of Grimm Penny heads to the military training center to add the other hunters as they hon their skills in biweekly training sessions. Now most days Penny will just set the facilities to train the specific skills each team needs to work on for both group and individual training. But Penny will join in if a session requires another person or if she is specifically requested. Today is Team FNKI’s turn and they’ve requested that Penny train with them, though it was more like Neon begged for two full hours to have Penny join them so she could play with Penny’s “pretty light swords”.

Once the boys are all set with their individualized training, Neon and Penny are left at the center for a 1 vs 1 sparing match. Neon playful circles Penny rainbow trailing behind her. She smiles coley ,twirling her her nunchucks and her tail, as though she doesn’t have a care in the world.

Neon: you ready to dance Penny? Cause I’ve been dying to see if those cute swords of yours are more then just a light show.

Penny: I can assure you Neon Katt my swords are indeed military grade weapons, the lights are an indicator of the connection between them and my systems so I may use them freely. They are also optimal for fighting in the dark and at night.

Neon: And you just ruined the joke killjoy. So if you’re done talking I’m just gonna beat cha with my chucks, ‘Kay.

Neon changes her stance then charges at Penny, she swings her chucks wildly at Penny trying to land a hit. Penny dodges her rapid attacks for a bit but that soon fails as Neon only grows more fierce with each swing. Neon closing in she’s just about to landing a hit but when she brings down her chucks something blocks her, she loses her balance and is pushed back. Once she regains her composure she see Penny with one of her swords in hand and smile on her face. Penny looks at her for a second then let’s go of her blade letting it flow upward to above her head. Once’s it there she releases the rest of her arsenal, the blades fanning out around her like a peacock’s tail creating a beautiful but deadly display. Penny raises her hand to Neon and gestures for her to make a move.

Game on.

The girls continue their sparing for the duration of the session, when the time almost up the door to the training room is swung open. The elegant Winter Schnee enters the room with a loud bang, grabbing everyone’s attention and stopping them dead in their tracks.

Winter: Team FNKI Your session is over please clear out so the next group may enter.

With that the boys grab their things and start head towards the door while Neon stands there sulking.

Neon: Aww man, But I wanted to play some more.

Flynt: Kitty no it’s time to go, say goodbye to your friend.

Neon: Ugggh, fine..

Neon begins to leave, looking upset and defeated she skates to the door but right as she’s about to leave she perks up and skates back to Penny.

Neon: You have your scroll on you?

Penny: Yes.

Neon: Gimme it like Now!

Penny hands Neon her scroll, Neon starts fiddling with the scroll until she finds the app she’s looking for then starts typing. Once she’s done she hands the scroll back to Penny.

Neon: If you’re ever bored or want tickets to our next concert hit me up ‘Kay.

Penny: Okay?

Neon: Awesome, and don’t worry about calling too late I’m a real night owl.

Flynt: KITTY!

Neon: OKAY! Bye Penny Pop, later Winter Wonder. See you losers in few days!

Neon rolls out of the room while Flynt looks back apologetically before leaving with the rest of his team. Penny and Winter are left standing in the room in an awkward silence.

Winter: Penny, go change the settings for the room to my presets.

Penny: Right away Ma’am

Winter: And Penny.

Penny: Yes Ma’am?

Winter: Don’t get distracted. We don’t have time for distribution.

Penny: Yes of course Ma’am.

Penny leaves the room and heads to the control room to change the settings. Once she’s finished she call a co-worker to take over as she grabs her things and leaves for her next task.

5:00 pm to 8:00 pm Filling Out Reports At The Military Outpost

After a quick flight from the training center Penny heads to the nears Military Outpost or Military Station to fill out reports on petrols, arrests, Grimm sightings and kills, and any oddity or security issues she might have noticed in between her commutes are the cities. Basically everything that needs to go on record throughout the day was to written and submitted at this time.

This was is the part of the day Penny dislike the most. After hours of detaining criminal, fighting Grimm, training with military huntsman, and keeping the community safe sitting at a computer, in an uncomfortable chair and typing everything out for hours on end was truly mental draining. Recounting an entire day down to the mundane details, filling out arrest form after arrest form, document after document is just so soul sucking and horrible. But this what she and every military member had to do when their work day comes to an end in order to keep the system running.

Penny walks in to the station she shows her identification to the front desk assistant, she is then given a usb, and boozed into the main building. Once she’s in she looks for the nears open computer, once she finds it she sits down, logs in to the system, inserts the usb, and gets to work.

After two hours of typing away Penny’s close to finishing her work a bit earlier the usual when Chief Stones, the man in charge of the station, comes running towards her with a phone in hand.

Stones: Poledina, I just got off the phone with the southwest shipping facility. They need some extra security on today’s shipment transfer and they asked for you specifically, so get down there.

Penny: Yes Sir.

Stones: And don’t forget to come back and finish your reports once you’re done.

Penny: ………Yes Sir.

After saving her work and removing the usb Penny grabs her things, heads outside and straight to the sky. After a near hour or so of flying Penny spots the facility coming up on the horizon. She’s getting closer when suddenly a truck comes zooming past her at an intense speed. It’s the shipping truck! But why is it going so fast? Where was the security detail that was supposed to be escorting them? And why is it going off the normal route? Penny stops and gets ready to jet off after the truck when-

“ HELP! SOMEBODY HELP US!”

That’s when Penny turn back and sees smoke. The truck could wait someone was in danger and she was the only one there to help. She flys towards the screaming only to find it’s the security detail! The vans been thrown on it’s side and a fires broke out. The guards have made out of the vehicle but most are injured some are unconscious the strongest of them is waving Penny down with one arm while keeping a wound close with the other.

Penny: Penny Poledina Mantle Main Security, What happened here?

Long: Seth Long Transport Security, there was a breach at the facility it turned out false alarm but once we got back they’d already set off smoke bombs in loading dock and ran off with the truck. We tried catch up with them but I think they saw it coming they set off some sort of trap and blow us off the road. Our van got flipped 5 of my men were injured 3 are out cold there was nothing we could.

Penny: We need to get you and your men to a medic right now-

Long: WAIT! There’s 1 man still in that van, he was driving when we gave chase and got stuck when we crashed. He’s names Tony, please you gotta save him.

Penny looks at the man for a moment, the desperation and fear clear in his eyes, she rips a piece off her skirt and uses it to dress Long’s wound then heads for the van. It doesn’t take her long to spot Tony, he has multiple injuries, has breathed in a lot of smoke, and is losing consciousness. Penny pulls out one of her swords and cuts him out the seatbelt. Once he’s free she gently picks him up and jets up and out of the van. When they’re back on solid ground she sets Tony down next to Long, Long gingerly pats Tony’s head and mouths “thank you” to Penny before his strength finally gives and he passes out. Penny pulls out her scroll and calls for medical attention, in the meantime she does everything she can to keep the men stable until help arrives.

It takes a few hours for everything to get cleared up but soon everything has documented and everyone in need of medical attention has either been seen or sent to the hospital for a few nights stay. With that Penny quickly heads back to the station to wraps up her reports for the day then heads home. It’s one thirty in the morning, it been a very long day and all Penny can think about is getting home, taking off her boots, getting out of her now dirty work clothes, and getting some sleep. Before she knows it she’s standing at her front door, she grabs her keys and quietly opens the door trying her hardest not to make too much noise so she doesn’t wake her dad, only to find him waiting for her at the table with a warm plate of chicken and rice with tomato soup. Penny smiles at him and heads to table for a nice late dinner and some family time. Once dishes are done and Dad’s gone off to bed Penny goes to her room, she takes off her boots, grabs some clean pajamas and heads to her bathroom she then washes off the day’s dirty and grime, puts on her pjs and heads to her bed. Once she’s in her bed she plugs herself into her power station, tucks herself with her nice warm blankets, snuggle her head into her pillow, and falls into a hard earned and well deserved night sleep.

#penny polendina #broken machines #rwby #rwby fanfiction #cute #this girl deserves a day off and jar of Nutella #pietro polendina #fanfic

[amoretheiwa]

Closet Conversation

Tim and Kon have had a thing going for a little while now--a friends-with-benefits kind of things. But Tim isn't sure he can't keep up the pretense of only friendly feelings towards Kon. So things start to come out... That's basically it.

Read on AO3

Read on Tumblr below the cut

Tim found himself hating Kon just a little bit when the Kryptonian finally pulled completely away and didn’t seem even nearly as out of breath as he was. Sweat made Tim’s face damp and he willed his arm not to swipe at his forehead, chest still heaving.

Kon grinned at him—teeth blindingly white and lips still swollen—as he began to reach for his costume pieces.

“I think I have a new favorite room here,” he said with a wink.

Tim pushed down the emotions—and arousal—that evoked and rolled his eyes.

“If every place we did anything like this in ended up as your favorite room, half the Tower would be your favorite.”

Kon raised and wagged his eyebrows.

“Exactly.”

Tim scoffed and turned around, searching for the discarded pieces of his uniform. In the midst of their little…tryst, the oddest things ended up in the oddest places. His boots were in opposite corners and his cape was stuck over the door handle.

“One of these days someone is going to need something in one of these closets and they’re going to find way more than they expected.”

Kon snorted.

“So what? Good for them.”

Tim tensed for a split second before going back to getting dressed. Their friends with benefits arrangement was mutually beneficial. Kon got out his insane amounts of pent-up sexual tension, Tim got stress relief and the added bonus of close proximity to his current crush/best friend. If he could even still call it a crush after the past few years.

Maybe it was the Bat-training, maybe it was his attempt at keeping feelings out of the whole thing, whatever the reason, Tim was finished getting dressed even as Kon was still looking for his top. Tim allowed himself to watch as his friend floated up to the top of a cabinet. His butt looked good at this angle. Tim felt his cheeks flush and turned around, crossing his arms. Robin tradition or not, he mused bitterly on the stories he had heard from Dick, messing around in random rooms in Titans Tower does not seem smart or safe.

“That was dumb,” he muttered under his breath, closing his eyes.

“What was?” Came Kon’s voice most definitely too loud and too close.

Tim whirled and glared at his…friend.

“This,” he gestured at them both, at the room. “This whole thing was and every time we have done it and probably every time we will do it. It’s a dumb thing with dumb perks.”

Kon furrowed his brows, blue eyes glinting.

“What’s dumb about it?”

Tim scoffed.

“Everything. It’s firstly unsanitary,” Kon outright laughed. Tim pursed his lips. “Secondly, it could end causing problems between teammates.”

Kon tilted his head.

“How so? Unless you don’t like my skills,” here the half-Kryptonian wiggled his  hips, “I don’t see any reason to stop.”

Tim felt his heart jump and his blood roil. Ignoring the fact that Kon could hear all the ways his body was betraying him if he was even bothering to pay attention, Tim continued. He turned around again, crossing his arms.

“Say you and Cassie get back together, or you meet someone else. It just would be problematic!”

Kon shrugged and pulled his shirt on. He went to tuck it in as Tim spoke again.

“That was dumb.”

“I know. I heard you the first three times.”

“Crazy dumb. Crazy, stupid sticking fingers into light sockets kind of dumb.”

Tim glared at the wall, not saying anything else. Before he knew what was happening, Kon was pinning him against the wall just as he had been before, only this time both his hands were above his head and Kon wasn’t touching him anywhere else.

“What’s so dumb about this, Tim?” He asked in a low, sultry voice. It wasn’t exactly the same as his sex voice, a little more serious and less out-of-breath, but still far from his hero's voice.

“Is there something that bothers you about this Tim, or is it something about me?”

Tim swallowed, his throat suddenly extremely dry. Even though they had just spent quite a bit of time in there, certain parts of his body were telling him they were more than willing and ready to go another round, maybe even two, with Kon.

“This isn’t a personal commentary on either of us, Superboy.”

Kon leaned in closer to Tim but still didn’t touch him anywhere else. The familiar tingling of his TTK wound its way up from his ankles to rest low on his hips, pushing him further into the wall. He attempted to swallow again.

“Isn’t it though? You don’t have any problems with Bart and Jaime, or Steph and Cass.”

Tim tensed and a good portion of his arousal went away.

“Because they’re all in a public, committed relationship. Any of the potential fall-outs are at least partially anticipated.”

Kon pulled back some.

“Really, Tim? You’re going to go full-on Bats on me like this?”

Tim resented the fact that even Kon called him out on his more Bruce-like qualities—it wasn’t like Jason and Dick weren’t enough. He grit his teeth and tried to pull his wrists free from Kon’s hands. The clone didn’t fight him but didn’t let him just slip away, either.

“This has nothing to do with being a Bat, and even if it did that wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing.”

Kon floated back some, giving Tim some more space without really freeing him.

“No, you’re right,” Kon put a hand through his hair, “this has nothing to with being a Bat. This has everything to do with you and your repressed emotions. It might make you fit in with the rest of your crime-fighting clan but you didn’t inherit it from them.”

Tim contemplated slapping Kon right then and there. The only thing that stopped him was knowing that being the one to initiate physical contact would mean Kon had won in some sick twisted way.

“I’m no detective but I think there’s something else that makes you see this as dumb,” Kon said softly, almost gently.

Tim flinched and closed his eyes. He was by far not prepared for this change in tone. Fighting, he could do—it’s all he and Kon had ever done before they became friends. But emotions, pity? Hell no.

The silence in the closet was deafening, and if his heartbeat was even half as loud to Kon as it was to him he knew there was no point in hiding. They stood there for what felt like hours before he opened his eyes. Behind his mask, he felt a sense of anonymity rarely afforded to Timothy Drake-Wayne. But in front of Kon? Kon-el, Conner Kent, the clone of Superman himself and containing Lex Luthor’s DNA, was not stupid. Even if he liked to be underestimated as such. He knew it was a lost cause that he was going to have to either come up with a really good lie (even by his standards) or tell the truth, as heart-wrenching as it would end up being.

Tim was just about to open his mouth and say—he didn’t know what, but something—when their communicators went off.

“All Titans, come in. We’re needed ASAP!”

Kon pulled all the way back this time and sighed.

“We’ll finish this conversation later.”

Tim didn’t follow Kon out immediately, instead letting his head fall back against the wall.

If I have any say in the matter we won’t.

Tim had almost forgotten about the uncomfortable conversation that happened after his and Kon’s most recent…meeting. Almost. And God did he hate that he couldn’t bring himself to just calling it what it was—sex, ­unattached and as platonic as it can get sex. Fucking, banging if he wanted to be crude, but it wasn’t much more. No making love for Tim Drake. No, he is much too busy and sleep deprived as it is, let alone emotionally repressed as others had so kindly put it.

He would have completely forgotten about the fact that his best friend (are they even still best friends at this point? What were they supposed to be?) still wanted to talk if it wasn’t for said friend. Tim had hit the showers—finally—after their quick mission. A gangbanger that had gotten too big for his britches decided to dabble in Venom and wrecked a few city blocks by the time they were able to stop him.

While he pulled on some civvies, Tim winced. It was far from the worst battle he had ever been in (hello Ra’s al Ghul, Damian) but bruised ribs were bruised ribs. ­­­­A knock on his door had him tensing. His schedule did not allow him to spend much more time at Titans Tower. After all, he had business back in Gotham of both the suit-and-tie kind and the crime-fighting kind.

“Come in,” he called out. Whichever Titan it was hopefully wouldn’t take up too much of his time.

He heard his door open but knew immediately it wasn’t Bart or Cassie; both of them would have instantly been chattering about something or other. Tim knew in his gut it was Kon before he turned around.

“Do you need something?” He asked, voice cold in a manner he didn’t frequently use on friends and family, just barely keeping himself from crossing his arms.

Kon made sure the door was shut before walking over to Tim’s desk and sitting in his seat. The clone leaned back a tad, just enough that his t-shirt rode up his jeans some. Tim was suddenly very grateful for Kon’s fashion taste and the fact the high-waisted jeans covered skin that otherwise would have been visible and very distracting.

“Yeah, I do, but not right now. This is more of a…a prelude to talking about what you and I need.”

Tim made the split-second decision to not sit down but did finally give in and cross his arms.

“Fine. I don’t have much time so spit it out.”

He hoped that the minute shaking he could feel wasn’t noticeable, but who was Tim kidding? Even with half of Superman’s genes, this was still a superpowered Kryptonian. He leaned against his dresser, the distance exactly enough to not be awkwardly far away but not so close as to make the conversation too intimate, too personal.

Kon eyed Tim. It wasn’t a sensual checking out or aggressive sizing up, just a drawn out and unsubtle observation. Tim began to fidget, a tell and a nervous habit Dick and Bruce had yet to fully train out of him.

“Well?” He finally prompted, undeniably impatient.

Kon leaned forward, his elbows on his knees and hands clasped together.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about what you brought up earlier, man, and I want you to know that I wasn’t just being a jerk for no reason.”

Tim snorted.

“Like you’ve ever needed a reason to be a jerk.” Kon snapped his head up and glared at Tim.

Tim raised his hands in surrender, genuinely regretting the words.

“Sorry, I’m sorry, that was uncalled for. Continue.”

Kon pursed his lips for a beat before doing just that.

“Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that I still stand by what I said earlier even if some of the…personal digs weren’t relevant. It’s a Bats thing to stay emotionally unattached and I’m not like that. I hate it, I actually really hate it. So even though we’ve got this friends-with-benefits thing going on you’re still one of my closest friends. Besides,” he leaned back again, grinning now, a glint in his eyes and the beginnings of a smirk around his mouth, “it’s not liked we don’t keep each other happy.”

Tim swallowed. His heart was racing but he also felt kind of faint. Instinctively the oblivious side of him wondered if he had maybe been poisoned but he knew instantly that that wasn’t the case.

“So you’re saying that you want to keep this up, nothing changing, even though I think it’s dumb?”

Kon groaned and closed his eyes, rubbing his hands over his face.

“I don’t know man. Ideally, there’d be more than just amazing sex in random rooms but since that’s all you’re gonna give that’s all I’m gonna take.”

“Fine b—wait, wait what?” Tim’s voice squeaked in a way it hadn’t in a few years. Kon’s eyebrows furrowed and his cheeks flushed slightly.

“Do you like me?”

Kon looked miffed at having been interrupted but shrugged.

“Yeah, man, I guess. We are friends after all.” Tim stood up and shook his head.

“No, no, you don’t understand. Do you like like-like me? Like, physically and emotionally attracted to me? As in don’t want to just fuck?”

Kon rolled his eyes.

“Well duh. Why do you think I broke it off with Cassie? I straight up seduced you dude, I just realized pretty quickly you weren’t into me on the same level. It’s cool though.”

“Why did you think I’m not into you? I thought it was obvious and you were just humoring me while getting all the benefits.”

Kon raised his eyebrows and opened his mouth to speak but froze. He dropped his head back and started laughing.

“What’s so funny about this?” Tim said, speaking louder so that he could be heard over Kon’s laughter. Emotions were racing through him like a heard of horses but the most prominent one had rapidly become confusion.

“It’s, it’s just that this whole time I, I tho-thought,” Kon wheezed, “thought that you. I don’t know, I just didn’t think you were interested that way.”

Tim felt his jaw metaphorically drop.

“Are you kidding me? We could have been dating this whole time?”

Tim ran his fingers through his hair and gripped it, pacing. Kon stood up and smiled. He walked up to Tim who had begun muttering at light speed, and gently stopped him, holding his shoulders.

“Tim, hey, Rob,” he said softly.

Tim looked up at him and sighed. He bit his bottom lip, and Kon’s eyes flashed down toward his lips.

“Let’s let go of this whole mess and just start over, okay?”

Tim nodded vigorously. Kon grinned and leaned in, kissing him softly. When he pulled back, Tim seemed to be a little in shock.

“So, Robin, Tim Drake-Wayne, would you like to go on a date with me tonight?”

Tim pulled back a little and stared Kon down.

“As much as I want to say yes, I’m way too busy tonight. How about tomorrow? I can make time for a few hours if you can.”

Kon grinned and kissed Tim again, lingering this time.

“I can always make time for you, babe.”

“Babe?”

“Well, yeah, if we’re boyfriends then I reserve the right to call you babe.”

Tim couldn’t deny that he wasn’t getting flustered and flustered quickly.

“Alright, Kon,” Tim grinned, “it’s a date.”

#timkon #tim drake #conner kent #amoretheiwa writes #closet conversation

[angelicamerlinbarnes]

A Chronicle of the Life of Sirius Black, as told by Regulus Black

TEN TIMES Regulus didn’t matter and the one time he realized he’d mattered all along / TEN TIMES Regulus was jealous of Sirius and the one time he realized that Sirius’ happiness was his happiness

1. Sirius being in Gryffindor [Without Me - Halsey]

The day Sirius is sorted into Gryffindor, Regulus is at home, a scared little ten-year-old alone with their hateful parents for the first time ever. Sirius sends him a letter every day, always kind, always joyful, and it helps, it does. But Sirius was sorted into Gryffindor. He’s the first Black in centuries not to be in Slytherin, and he’s proud of it. Almost offensively so. And Regulus tries. He does. He tries to be brave, he tries to follow his brother’s example. But there he is, the huge, frumpy Hat on his head, and even as he pleads, Let me be with my brother. Please. He’s the only thing that makes me happy. Please, please, please, let me be with Sirius, the Hat shouts, “Slytherin!” and something in Regulus’ chest breaks as the Hat grins and Sirius’ eyes cut with betrayal. Regulus swallows down the feeling, settling beside Severus Snape (a boy Sirius hates) at the Slytherin table and trying not to cry. The day Regulus is sorted is, he knows, the last day Sirius really loves him.

2. Sirius having non-pureblood and real friends [Hurts Like Hell - Madison Beer]

Sirius doesn’t really look at Regulus anymore. Not the same way, anyway. Besides, he has friends to keep him company now. Friends who have all sorts of blood and these mischiveious glints in their eyes and so much fucking love for Sirius it makes Regulus sick. And Regulus has friends too, sure - friends like Lucius Malfoy and Mulciber and Bellatrix and Crouch. Slimy, disgusting scumbags who he knows will end up killers. But Regulus isn’t an idiot, and he knows that any kid who travels alone in this school doesn’t survive. So he lets them serve as his shield, because Severus only wants Lily and Sirius doesn’t want Regulus, not anymore, so if he doesn’t want to be alone he better shape the fuck up. But Sirius thinks Regulus likes these people, Sirius thinks Regulus believes in blood purity, Sirius thinks Regulus is just like every other dark wizard they’ve ever met and Regulus doesn’t know what you’re supposed to do when the only person you’ve ever loved thinks you’re a killer and hates you for it.

3. Sirius having the courage to stand up to their parents [You should be sad - Halsey]

When Sirius finally does come back home with him, there’s this fire in his eyes that wasn’t there before. He doesn’t just ignore their parents anymore. He speaks up, speaks loud, and boldly goes on and on about the greatness of Gryffindor and that half-blood friend of his, Remus Lupin. He defends werewolves and slanders Death Eaters and he even calls their mother a bitch. To her face. And they punish him, oh, do they punish him. Crucio! after Crucio!, but Sirius does not budge. He keeps talking back, he keeps being himself, he keeps cursing out their ideas and challenging every little thing they say, and Regulus can hear him screaming from the basement at night, where they lock him up without food. And Regulus brings some food down every night he can manage, taking in the sight of his beautiful, beloved brother battered and bruised and angry, and Siris will always smile at him. But then he looks at Regulus for support during one of his fights with their parents and Regulus can only look down at his lap, his words caught in his throat. And just like that, Sirius is a different person. And this Sirius has a heart that doesn’t know Regulus’ name. But Regulus’ still knows Sirius. Always, always Sirius.

4. Sirius kissing boys (half-blood werewolf ones at that) [Little Miss Perfect - Annapantsu cover]

And then, in fourth year, Regulus sees Sirius kiss a boy. Not just any boy, either - Remus Lupin, that half-blood werewolf that’s supposed to be a secret. And they’re smiling and laughing and, oh Merlin, they’re holding hands. And then Sirius touches Remus’ face and kisses him again, the two of them grinning into each other’s mouths as Regulus stares, unable to stop. Because he wants to kiss boys. He wants to kiss James Potter and his infuriating smirk. He wants to kiss Severus Snape and his stupid frown. He wants to kiss Peter Pettigrew and his crooked grin. He wants to kiss Amir Levis and his perfect smile. He wants to kiss boys, boys, boys, but no. Because he’s not brave, he’s not a Gryffindor, he’s not Sirius, so he can’t kiss boys. And so instead he stares. And he stares, and he stares, and he stares until Sirius sees him and storms over, asking him if he has a problem and shoving him back until Regulus is running down the hall, trying not to cry until he’s alone, because Sirius hates him, hates him, hates him because he thinks Regulus hates him, and for the first time in his life Regulus can’t even deny it.

5. Sirius wearing dresses [Alyssa Greene - from “The Prom”]

One day in fifth year, Sirius shows up to their Potions class in a skirt. He stands there in the doorway, a hand on his cocked hip and the other hanging down as he smirks and cuts his eyes around the room. Regulus can’t breathe, and neither, it seems, can anyone else, as the entire room basks in silence. Finally James pipes up, “Lookin’ good, Sirius,” and Sirius grins, ducking his head to the ground in embarrassed happiness as he makes his way over to Remus, tucking himself into his side with a smile and a kiss. And Regulus looks down at his stupid tight pants and imagines they were a lace dress instead and everything inside of him calms. He glances at Sirius the whole lesson, desperate to talk to him, but as he catches Sirius’ eyes, the truth you’re beautiful, Siri gets caught in his throat and instead outpours his snarky hurt, “Nice skirt, Black,” and Sirius’ eyes go squinty with his own hurt and Regulus finally learns what wanting to die truly feels like. But he can’t take it back, and Sirius is already stalking away, his head high, and so Regulus shoves the pain down where he shoves everything else and he hates and he hates and he hates all of it, but mostly himself.

6. Sirius running away to James’ house [Fake - Lauv, Conan Gray]

And then Sirius leaves him. It’s Regulus’ fucking birthday and he’s only fif-fucking-teen and his favorite person in the world is leaving him. And Regulus is begging, pleading, screaming, as he tears at Sirius’ clothes and grasps desperately for his hands, crying, “Please, please, please, don’t leave me here alone, don’t let me go, don’t leave, stay here, stay here with me, let me be with you Sirius -” and then Sirius is whirling around and grasping Regulus by the neck, tugging him in and searching his eyes, his own cold, and Regulus can’t breathe. Sirius leans in, blood and tears making his skin grimy to the touch, and he whispers, “Come with me.” And Regulus hates himself, hates himself, hates himself, because he says, “Yes,” and then shoves Sirius out the front door and locks it tight, cowering before their wrathful parents as his mother raises her wand and whispers, “Crucio.” And Regulus screams, screams until he can’t even hear it anymore, screams until all of his breath has left him, but Sirius doesn’t come. Because Sirius is brave, and Sirius has left, and Sirius doesn’t love Regulus anymore.

7. Sirius having someone who loves him just as fiercely as Sirius loves them [Take Me to Church - Hozier]

Regulus doesn’t believe in love, okay, because love is absolute shit. The only person Regulus has ever loved is Sirius, and Sirius fucking hates him right down to his bones and so Regulus thinks that maybe love is just bullshit some sunshine mother made up for her child to believe in, if sunshine mothers even exist that is, because Regulus only knows his monster of one. But Sirius does believe in love. Regulus knows this, because Regulus Black is not a blind idiot and Sirius Potter loves Remus Lupin. But Regulus knows better than to assume he’ll be invited to their wedding. He knows what Sirius thinks of him. He knows Sirius hates him, no matter how bright Regulus’ own heart burns for him. But Regulus gets a little something in the mail anyway - not an invitation, of course not, but a letter, written by one Remus Lupin, asking if Regulus would pretty please make just the tiniest bit of time to come and see them on the big day, only five minutes if that’s all he can spare, because Sirius will want him to be there even if he’s a stubborn git who refuses to say it. (Remus’ words, not his.) And Regulus burns it, burns it like his shattered heart and hopes that the memory of it burns too soon, but Regulus is not one to deny simple truths, and the most simple truth of all is that all Regulus can be bothered to care about anymore is whether his brother is happy, and so he goes. It’s only for a moment - he doesn’t even make himself seen. But he stands outside the tent populated by the countless friends and family Sirius has made in the same time Regulus has lost his only one, and he watches as his brother dances with his werewolf husband. Watches as they press their foreheads together, as they smile, as they share a kiss. As they spin and twirl and sway, as their friends join them. Regulus watches, and Remus looks up and sees him and smiles, and Regulus apparates away with a heart that is no longer burning, but bleeding.

8. Sirius having a blank wrist [World Burn - from “Mean Girls”]

Regulus doesn’t make it fully back in the door after the wedding before his bitch of a mother is shoving him up against the wall as his father grabs his other wrist and tugs it out so hard he feels his shoulder snap out of his socket for a moment. Regulus finally manages to take in his surroundings, a house full of hateful cousins and bigoted aunts and uncles and they all have snakes and skulls on their arms and Regulus looks down at his blank wrist and back up at the slimy smirking man slithering towards him with the evil eyes and he cries, “No. No. No no no no no no no no -” and when the man’s wand stabs his arm he screams louder than he ever has before but nobody fucking hears him because he is Regulus Black and he is all alone and he is a Death Eater. And he flees, apparates as soon as they’re off him to Sirius’, but there’s a wand pressed against his throat there too. And Sirius is shoving him back, pushing him towards the open window as he places himself carefully in front of his new husband, sleepy and still somehow smiling kindly at Regulus even as he sees the Mark on his arm, and Regulus bursts into tears. “I’m sorry,” he pledges. “I’m sorry, Siri, they didn’t give me a choice, they made me, Siri, I -” But his brother doesn’t understand and his brother hates him and his brother spits, “You had a fucking choice, Regulus. You always had a choice. All you had to do was come the fuck with me.” Regulus can’t breathe. “I love you,” he cries, but Sirius just shakes his head. “You have no idea what love is,” he says, and casts a quick Stupefy, shoving Regulus out the window for good measure. And Regulus lies there, staring up at the sky and listening to the peaceful silence of his brother’s home, the home he shares with someone who loves him, loves him far better than Regulus ever could, and he sets his jaw and pulls down his sleeve and apparates himself back to the Dark Lord. Because they may be Death Eaters but at least they fucking want him.

9. Sirius volunteering to fight instead of being forced [This Is Why We Can’t have Nice Things - Taylor Swift]

Regulus lives like a ghost. He might as well be dead. But nothing ever seems to kill him. Instead he drifts along, killing innocent Muggles, torturing witches for information, and obsessively reading every article about the Order and Sirius he can find. He’s just about ready to wither away when he finds out about the Horcruxes. And he’s resigned himself to death at his brother’s wand when he’s suddenly filled with a burning, untameable fire - Sirius got to choose to fight. Sirius gets to choose his battles. Sirius got to choose his side. And for the longest time, Regulus resented him for that. Because why should he get all the choices just for being the fucking Gryffindor? Except, Regulus realizes now, a Mark may have damned his reputation, but it hasn’t damned him, not yet. But he will be damned if he doesn’t get it the fuck together and take control of his miserable life. So Regulus decides to take his wand to that cave and find that fucker of a necklace. Regulus decides to find the rest of those fuckers and destroy them all too. Regulus decides to be brave. Regulus decides to be a fucking Gryffindor, because fuck the huge, frumpy Hat. It doesn’t know jack shit about Regulus Lupin. It doesn’t know anything about him at all.

10. Sirius having a child [lovely - Billie Eilish, Khalid]

One by one, Regulus finds the Horcruxes. One by one, he destroys them. He knows he’ll die for it, but for now no one suspects him and he’s finally found his purpose in life. Sirius may not love him anymore, Sirius may hate him now, but at least he’ll be safe. At least he’ll be happy. Because Merlin, oh Merlin, Regulus will stare down Voldemort himself if it means his brother survives this war. And then, he hears the news - Sirius and Remus have had a child. Three, actually - Newt, Hermione, and Luna Lupin. All adopted from casualties of the war. And of course there’s three of them, Regulus thinks - Sirius always said he wanted a house full of laughing children. That never changed, even after he fell in love with Remus. He still wanted loads of children. And when Regulus finds out, he hates him. Hates him because those children will never know Regulus as their uncle, because his brother, their father, hates him. Hates him because he was a child in a war who could never just fucking be a Gryffindor when he needed to, who could only ever say he loved Sirius more than himself, more than life, more than anything, and never act on it. And Regulus will never have children - he’d wanted to, he’s always wanted to, but no one had ever loved him enough to stay. And then he’d signed his death warrant with a Mark and a Horcrux, and he knew no child would ever be brought into the world under his name. But at least, at least, he swears - he solemnly swears, making an Unbreakable Vow - his nieces and nephew will be safe. They will grow up with both of their fathers. They will grow up with their cousins and aunts and uncles. They will grow up in a world without war. There will only be one cost, he thinks, one price that they will not know about - as he stabs the last Horcrux through the heart with his last Basilisk fang, he knows, deep in his bones, that they will lose only him in this war. And that’s never really been much of loss, has it?

1. Sirius lives a long, happy life surrounded by the people he loves, people who love him right back [Anyone - Camila Cabello]

(NOTE: Some of Regulus’ dialogue here is lyrics from the aforementioned song.)

And then, the final battle is upon them. Flashing lights and flying spells, and Regulus sees Sirius across the battlefield. His breath catches in his throat, and he’s about to go to him when he sees Voldemort, standing on a precipice and vulnerable. He lays eyes on his brother for what he knows will be the last time, and he whispers, “I love you.” Then, he makes his way up the battlefield’s taunting hills to his death with a newfound resolve. Taking in a deep breath, he raises his wand with a steady hand and whispers, “Avada -” Voldemort doesn’t let him finish, whirling around like a shot and shouting, “Sectumsempra!” Regulus feels his chest ripping open, feels himself stumbling backwards, and lets his gasp of pain answer Voldemort’s sick smile, “Avada Kedavra…” His smile fading, Voldemort falls with Regulus with the force of the curse. But where he falls and shatters on unforgiving rock, Regulus falls into warm arms. Looking up at the tear-streaked face of his brother, he smiles, his eyes sparkling as he comes back to life. “Siri?” He asks, raising his shaking hand to Sirius’ cheek. Sirius’ eyes are wide with panic as he scans Regulus’ body desperately, muttering useless spells over and over as Regulus just smiles at him. “Are you proud of me, Siri?” Sirius looks down at him finally, whispering back, “I’m always proud of you, Reggie. You’re you.” Regulus grins. Sirius has gone back to muttering desperate spells, but Regulus can feel himself fading. He knows his time is up. So he whispers, “Siri. Siri. Siri, look at me, please.” Sirius looks down at him, eyes still frantic. “What, Reggie?” Regulus keeps smiling. “If you ever move on without me,” he starts, remembering the lyrics to that song he heard so long ago. Sirius’ eyes widen with the realization and he starts shaking his head frantically, turning back to Regulus’ gaping wounds, “No. No, you are not dying. I can save you. I’m going to save you. Reggie, you can’t -” Regulus shushes him, gently dragging Sirius’ face back to him. Looking into his brother’s eyes, he smiles and smiles and smiles. “If you ever move on without me,” he rasps again. “I need to make sure you know -” Sirius sucks in a breath. “Reggie -” “You are the only one I’ve ever loved,” Regulus confesses, and Sirius sobs. “Reggie…” “Looking back on my life, you’re the only good I’ve ever done.” Sirius shakes his head, grasping Regulus’ hand. “No. No, you’ve done so much good -” “Yeah, you,” Regulus interrupts. “If it’s not you, it’s not anyone.” Siriu’s face collapses. “Regulus…” “I love you,” Regulus murmurs. “I love you, I want you to know that. Your happiness is my happiness. I love you. I died for you. I lived for you.” Sirius shakes his head, leaning down to press his forehead to Regulus’. “I love you too,” he rasps. “I love you too. I never stopped.” Regulus smiles. He can feel his life leaving him. “Smile for me,” he asks, grasping Sirius’ hair almost painfully. “Smile for me, please, Sirius.” Sirius smiles. “Thank you…” “Reggie. Reggie. No, Reggie, no -” There is a white light. Regulus looks up. He smiles. He closes his eyes, and he walks into the light. Finally, Regulus Lupin breathes.

Regulus Black’s hand falls from Sirius Lupin’s cheek. The sun rises.

#sirius and regulus #sirius black #regulus black #marauders #wolfstar #angst #music #love #sorry not sorry #please don't kill me #harry potter #forgotten heroes #oh for merlin's sake just let them be happy sorry no <3

[lover-of-skellies]

In Deep Water

Sooo... ye. I did a thing. This is supposed to be a lil recap kinda thing for Nep and Gill's past, since I hadn't posted anything for that yet. Hopefully it turned out alright,, but if it's not quite up to par, I apologize in advance ^^" I'm still really tired, and the fuckin angst in the beginning hit me right in the feels

There's some gore and violence, but for the most part, I don't think it's that bad. Nothing to be hugely concerned about, at least

All of this happens before Betta's born, so she's not in this part sadly enough

Chest heaving as he gasped for breath, the skeleton monster stared at the gruesome scene laid out before him; his favorite human was sprawled out in the snow, their eyes wide, and their face fixed in a clear look of terror. Crimson stained the snow that surrounded them, and from the side of their neck, their upper arm, and shoulder, there were large chunks of their flesh missing. One of their arms was torn clean off their body, and one of their legs had also been mangled and bloodied.

Looking down at himself, his eye lights constricted into the smallest of pin pricks, fear taking hold of his entire being as his gaze locked on the blood that stained almost the entire front of his jacket. His slippers were drenched in the scarlet fluid as well, and he let out a strangled cry, his sockets watering up with blue tinted tears. Beginning to tremble, his eye light shifted their focus to his hands, which were covered in the blood of his friend.

There was something that held a metallic taste in his mouth, and as he began to recall what happened, a wave of nausea washed over him. He doubled over, his nonexistent stomach turning. Hitting a certain point, he nearly doubled over, emptying the contents of his stomach into the snow before him. His entire body ached and he broke into sobs, not bothering to wipe the last bit of vomit from his chin. He covered his face with his hands, his shoulders shaking as he began practically wailing, trying desperately to muffle his voice.

His soul trembled within his chest, and then small cracks began to form along the edges of it as he choked out, "Oh my god, oh no... oh shit, what have I done? What the hell is wrong with me? Why did I did... I didn't mean to, I swear. I... I've doomed us all, haven't I?"

Footsteps could be heard crunching in the snow and approaching him, and his feet remained rooted in place as he was greeted by the familiar voice of his younger brother, "SANS? SANS, ARE YOU ALRIGHT?! OH MY WORD, WHAT HAPPENED TO THE HUMAN?!" Sans' voice was weak, no more than a whimper as he responded, "You gotta get outta here, Pap... It's not safe." Ignoring his brothers words, Papyrus approached him from behind, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. Sans flinched at the unexpected contact, his sockets widening, and as he slowly turned to look up at Papyrus, blood staining his clothes and coating the lower half of his face, the younger of the two looked back at him, clearly in shock.

Blue tears rolled down Sans' cheekbones and he trembled, his voice barely audible, "...I did this, Pap. I'm... I don't know what's wrong with me. You need to leave, I don't wanna hurt you too." The taller brother sighed deeply, momentarily closing his sockets. Opening them again to look at Sans, he chose to completely disregard the blood on his clothes, leaning down to very delicately wrap his arms around his elder brother, tugging him closer to himself and lowering his voice, "I'm Not Going Anywhere, Brother. Not Without You." Sans let out another sob, acting on impulse as he latched onto Papyrus, attempting to hide his face.

Their moment was interrupted as another voice pierced the silence, its tone laced with venom, "You... Of all the things you could've done, you broke the ONE rule I gave you! Just how foolish are you, Sans?!" Sans whimpered, sniffling and reluctantly peeking at the person who'd addressed him. Immediately recognizing them, his sockets widened again and he turned to fully face them, panic written on all of his features, "I never meant for this to happen, I swear! I didn't... I didn't wanna do this. I'm so, so sorry, please forgive me! I'll do anything to make it right!"

Crossing their arms over their chest, the deity narrowed their eyes, scoffing at his words, "You're such a half-witted fool. Spilling human blood was the ONE thing that was prohibited! As long as no human blood was spilled, I gave you and your people COUNTLESS YEARS of peace and prosperity. I protected the lot of you, and you've taken that for granted!" Sans held his hands up and immediately shook his head, "N-No, I haven't! Honest! Please, forgive me! I'm begging you!"

They merely rolled their eyes, "I cannot, Sans. If I were to let it go this once, who's to say you won't do it again, hm? You yourself can't even be certain of that, can you?" Sans pressed a hand over his mouth, trying to muffle his voice as tears continued pouring from his sockets. Papyrus frowned, clearing his throat and gaining the attention of the deity, "Um... Excuse Me... May I Say Something, Your Greatness?"

The deity nodded, silently giving him their permission to speak. The younger of the two skeleton brothers wasn't sure what to say or do, but he spoke anyway, his magic beginning to radiate waves of what felt like some sort of hopeful desperation, "I Know My Brother Has Broken A Rule You Set In Place, That Meant The World To You. I Can Assure You Though, He Didn't Mean To Do This. It's Not Like Him To Do These Sorts Of Things, I Promise. Just Look At Him... He's Crying And Pleading With You For Your Forgiveness. If It's At All Possible, I Humbly Ask That You Look Inside Yourself and Try To Pardon Him. Please. Just This Once."

The divine being arched a single eyebrow, "Are you defending his wrongdoing, Papyrus?" In response, the skeleton in question shook his head, "No No, Absolutely Not. I Agree That It Was Very Wrong Of Him, But Please... Please Forgive Him. Grant Us Your Kindness, And We'll Make Sure This Never Happens Again." Sighing, the god rubbed one of their temples, squeezing their eyes shut. The skeletons remained silent, save for Sans' broken sobs and whimpers, awaiting their God's decision.

When the entity opened their eyes and stared at the two with a look of firm resolution, Papyrus felt all the hope in his soul immediately die, shrinking back the smallest bit at their words, "Then so be it. If you'd defend him, brother or not, that places you on the same level as him. The two of you are to live out the rest of your days as the terrifying beasts that the humans have come to fear. And since Sans seems to love the taste of human flesh enough to go and violate the single rule I've ever given you and the rest of your people, that is the only thing you'll be able to feast on. It will sustain you, but it'll be the only food that will give any sort of satisfaction."

Still sniffling and trying to blink back tears, Sans stared at his bloodied hands, his sockets widening as he watched the tips of his phalanges grow sharper. He opened his mouth, trying to force out a string of words, but froze as his ecto tongue grazed his teeth, feeling how sharp they'd also become. As a second row of serrated teeth began to grow within his mouth, Sans cried out, pain shooting through his face.

His vision went white and he blindly tried to reach for Papyrus, unable to see. Fearing that he'd gone blind, he sobbed, "Pap?... Papyrus, where are you? Why can't I see?!" Papyrus began to respond, his voice dying in his throat as pain shot through his face, his teeth also beginning to change. When his own vision went white, he was frozen, his own sockets widening and beginning to water up as well. Watching them with a cold, blank expression, their god remained silent, appearing unphased.

As the skeletons' vision began to slowly return, they rubbed their eyes and blinked, once again freezing in place as they saw each other; they'd been given claws, sharpened teeth, and their sockets had gone white, without a single trace of an iris or pupil. Visibly frightened, Sans looked to the deity, "Hey, what'd you do to us?... Why are you punishing Papyrus too, huh?! He didn't do anything wrong!"

They tilted their head, still gazing at him blankly, "Well, didn't I just say you were to live out the rest of your days as terrifying beasts? You wouldn't have been terrifying if I left you as you were." Papyrus blinked, trying to process what just happened. Sockets watering up and orange tinted tears dripping down his cheekbones, he pulled his scarf over his face, filled with shame and fear. He resented the way he looked now, just as he resented the pangs of hunger within him that were urging him to devour the corpse that laid nearby.

As the other monsters began to emerge from their homes, Sans' crime revealed to them, his sockets watered up again and he fumbled for an explanation and an apology, and he watched in horror as their confusion and shock began to morph into disgust and anger. They began to shout at him, and as they began to summon their magic to attack, the crowd parted. Making his way through the gathering, the flamesman silently surveyed the scene before him. Sans looked to him, his voice pleading as he apologized more.

The realization sunk in, as to what would happen now, and Sans felt his blood run cold. Grillby's flames became hotter, and he cast a wave of fire at the skeletons, offering no hesitation or remorse. He was just as doomed as everyone else. Sans was quick to shortcut out of the path of Grillby's attack, taking Papyrus with him. Nearly choking as another sob left him, Sans placed himself between Papyrus and the gathering of angry monster, "Don't hurt my bro, please! I'm begging you! He's never done anything to any of you, and he didn't do anything wrong! He's not the one who did this, it was me! I'm the one you should dust! Please... dust me, but leave Papyrus alone. Please, I'm begging you..."

A rock was thrown, rocketing toward the shorter of the two skeletons and striking the side of his skull, causing him to cry out as a small crack formed, and as he tried to regain his bearings, a small figure darted through the crowd. He barely had enough time to process what was happening before a knife was drawn and they slashed at him, his sockets wide as tears dripped down his face. His ribs and sternum cracked and chipped under the blade of the knife, and he felt fresh blood begin to drip down his chin. Was that... was that his blood? No... it couldn't be. There was no way-

The small figure zipped around him and made a beeline for Papyrus, and he cursed. There was no way in hell they were going to hurt his brother. Something within him snapped and he lunged forward, tackling the human child to the ground. Hunger pulsed through him as he caught the scent of blood again, and he growled lowly, baring his teeth. They were flipped onto their back, and as they immediately tried to slash at him again, his eye twitched and his frown became a wide, crooked grin. He roughly grabbed their wrist, and with a sickening crack and their terrified, pained shrieks, their arm was torn from their body, their hand still clutching the handle of their knife.

He chuckled softly, his voice hoarse as he leaned over them and murmured, "Game over, kiddo. I'd say 'm sorry that it had ta go this way, but that'd be a lie. I never did like ya too much, y'know?" There was another shrill scream that he immediately silenced, his jaws clamping down on their rather thin neck. Serrated teeth now embedded in their flesh, he sharply jerked his head, effectively shredding their throat and destroying any verbal capabilities they had left.

He pulled back, looking down at the human beneath him, momentarily horrified at what he'd just done. Tears dripped down his face again and he trembled, hiding his face with his hands. Sans' mind grew hazy, and his sniffles and sobs shifted, gradually transforming into raspy laughter. A magic attack struck him and he yelped, momentarily surprised, before fixing his gaze on the crowd and narrowing his sockets, his twisted smile stretching across his face again as he rose to his feet. Oh, they were gonna pay for that.

As another barrage of magic attacks flew toward him, he merely shortcutted out of their way, trying to ignore pain he felt pulsing through him from his chest each time he moved. Papyrus' voice gained his attention and he looked up, his smile falling as his sockets went wide and he stared. Water flooded from within the surrounding forest, and as the other monsters caught sight of it, they had the same reaction that he and Papyrus did.

Some of them were frozen in fear, and some of them began to run. The water reached the town, crashing full force into the small shops and houses, destroying everything in it's wake, including whatever monsters who were unable to escape. Most of the towns' inhabitants were either killed by the impact, or drowned, save for maybe a lucky remaining few, along with Sans and Papyrus.

Instinctively rushing to Papyrus, Sans grabbed onto him, using his magic to maneuver both of them through the water, trying to find the surface. Just as everything seemed to be over, the earth below them began to shake and split open. A second wave of water hit them without a warning, immediately sweeping both of them into the deep pit that'd just been created, and as Sans pushed Papyrus to a more shallow area, adamant that his younger brother try to save himself, one of the remaining monsters appeared. Gripping onto Sans' jacket, they yelled and cursed at him, roughly shaking him out of anger, and he tolerated this for no more than half a second before he lashed out, turning them to dust.

As if his body was moving against his will, he licked their dust off of his hands, and then was quick to devour their soul, which was all that remained of them. Absentmindedly swaying his feet in the water as he used magic to keep himself in place, he looked around, the reality of the situation finally kicking in. He was horrified and he hated himself for what he did and what he'd become, shaking and erupting into loud, obnoxious laughter. He laughed so hard that tears began to run down his face, and carelessly discarding his jacket and letting it sink, he pressed a hand to his head, his sockets wide and his face fixed into a look of sheer, morbid delight.

Papyrus called out to him and he fell silent, blinking in confusion; his brother cried out for "Sans." He was Sans... right? Sans the skeleton? That was still him? No, no... it couldn't be. Not after everything that just happened. Not now that he'd become some sort of freak.

He shook his head, deciding to abandon his warring thoughts in favor of returning to his brother's side, right where he belonged. In time, the two very gradually began to adjust to their new lifestyle; while Papyrus lurked at the bottom of their lake and continued making his rounds, just as he did when he was trying to become a member of the royal guard, Sans busied himself with... other things.

Namely, tracking and hunting, and making sure the both of them were fed. He became detached and separated from his past self, embracing his life as a human eater with open arms. Papyrus wasn't sure how that was possible; personally, he hated this new life. He hated always being wet, he hated never feeling clean, he hated the huge lack of puzzle making, and most of all, he hated having to devour innocent humans to survive. To him, the humans were supposed to be their friends, not their food.

They stopped keeping track of how much time had passed, the events that brought them to this new life rapidly shifting into nothing more than a distant, fuzzy memory. One that both of them sometimes struggled to remember, at that. The forest was quiet and peaceful, and Sans took great joy in killing off the humans who entered, both for the sake of getting food, and also for maintaining the peaceful atmosphere.

Becoming bored with only hunting humans after a while, Sans took to hunting animals as well. Then, if by some small chance a monster wandered into their forest, he'd cut them down too. Papyrus was horrified, having found his elder brother licking monster dust off his hands and shirt. Eating other monsters was a taboo thing to them, and it had never been discussed before. Papyrus voiced his disagreement with it, trying to get his elder brother to see reason and stop, before he delved too far and indulged in this cannibalistic behavior anymore than he already had.

Sans, being Sans, was stubborn, refusing to stop. Papyrus continued trying to talk him out of it, but gave up after a great while, concluding that there was no point in arguing when Sans refused to listen or take anything into consideration. The two remained just as close as ever despite their obvious differences, and they'd gone on about their lives, just as they'd done before. Everything was normal and fine, and that was the end of it.

That was, until the day a promiscuous skeleton with purple eye lights appeared.

#undertale #undertale au #nep.exe #gill.exe #writing #underlust sans #lust sans #👀 #a challenger approaches #idk man #I'm really tired ok #i tried

[nilesflynn]

So, I have played a lot of Fallout (mostly 4 as I don't have anything that runs the first 3 anymore and I hate the New Vegas controls with a passion and the one thing that really bothers me is fixed no matter how you map them) and so from my random comments while playing through 4 a few times to a friend(?) of mine apparently came the inspiration to write me into a fan fiction for NaNoWriMo (which I'm too dead inside to participate in this year) and she's sent me the file so I can read as she writes it... Not sure if I should be insulted by the way she writes me or flattered at how accurate she's been.

Also, the playlist she made for it is great so I'm sharing a bit:

“Yeah… we’re finished.” Winlock threw an arm around his shoulders on the way to the door, easily dwarfing the man as he leaned close like he was imparting some secret advice, though he still spoke loud enough MacCready was sure to hear. “Listen, kid, you don’t want to hire this guy, he used to run with the Gunners.” The stranger’s smile was devilish and cold.

    “Don’t touch me,” before any of them had even noticed him move, there was a knife in his hand pressed to Winlock’s side where a little extra force was all it would take to puncture a lung, “we’re not friends and I don’t take kindly to being told what to do even on the best of days," he paused as his charming smile took on a wicked light, "today has not been the best of days.” Winlock caught a glimpse of something on the stranger's belt and paled slightly, raising his hands in mock surrender and, as if to hide the fear, chuckling darkly with a shrug.

    “Your funeral.” The stranger watched them leave with little interest, but still didn't return his attention back to an annoyed, albeit wary MacCready until they were long gone, returning the knife to somewhere in his belt past what looked at a glance like a white plague mask of some sort.

    “Look, pal. If you’re preaching about the Atom," he doubted it with as many strings of beads and crosses he saw hanging around the stranger's neck tucked mostly into his black pilot's jacket and hoodie, "or looking for a friend, you’ve got the wrong guy." He sat back down, fully expecting the stranger to leave like the others had after learning he ran with the Gunners, "If you need a hired gun…” MacCready paused to look him up and down as if thinking it over, “then maybe we can talk.” The stranger was small and lean, maybe a little shorter than him and dressed in dark pants bound at the calves and tucked into well-worn combat boots to reduce noise when he moved and an old t-shirt under his coats all topped with glasses, a lot of bruising, and an airship captain’s hat that hinted either he was part of the Brotherhood of Steel or had at some point managed to steal it off someone’s head. MacCready was more inclined to believe the latter; the guy didn't carry himself like a soldier and there wasn't a lot of Brotherhood presence in the Commonwealth, a welcome change from the Capital Wasteland.

And then there was that mask when he angled toward MacCready again and he got a better look, taking in what looked like a large rad crow's skull with glassy lenses in the sockets mounted over a gas mask. It was familiar, but he couldn't quite put his finger on why.

    “Maybe,” the stranger called his attention away from the mask as his gaze drifted back to the merc, lifting his hat briefly as he raked fingers taped beneath the fingerless wool gloves through wild red-brown hair and bought himself a moment to study him before replacing the hat, “Why don’t you tell me who those guys were first.” 

    “A couple of morons looking to climb the ladder of success by stepping on everyone else on the way up. You shouldn’t be surprised though, that’s how it goes when you run with the Gunners.” A smirk tugged at his lips for a split second before he finished off his bottle.

    “That’s humanity,” he muttered the words while his gaze drifted across the rest of the room, “Gunners… they’re a gang, right? Organized raiders, just shy of being classified as a cult,” the smirk again, but it remained longer this time, “I’ve killed enough of them by now, I’m familiar.” MacCready nodded slowly as the stranger looked him up and down again, “But you don’t seem the type," he spoke with a blunt tone like he didn't rightly care if anyone took offense at his words.

    “Stuck with them for a while 'cause the money was good, but I never fit in. That’s why I made a clean break and started flying solo.” He scoffed at that.

    “That’s a clean break? I’ve been doing it wrong my whole life.” MacCready ignored the sarcasm, though his slate-blue eyes narrowed into a glare for a second.

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/31BlYvdYBgZ2leg28Y063N?si=jN7G9Jk1QESmzdZ4_GIWog

#writing #write #writer #music #Favorite Liar #nanowrimo #national novel writing month #fallout #Spotify

[ask-thegoatbro]

Easter’s end

It was over, the Human holiday known as Easter was over and with that there wasn't much for Asriel to do now but return back home as he took a break from everyone. He went to the deepest depths of the ruins to take that break. At least now he can spend some time with his family a bit longer before the day ends. Sadly as he went through the ruins there was only silence and dust throughout the pathway making him learn what has happened. Chara had killed everyone once again during his time of allowing himself to handle his own thing that was going on.

Walking...

….Walking...

...And more walking...

...And more dust...

...And more silence...

...Even through the snow there was not even a sound...

...It was just silence as the peaceful town was vacant of life...

...Dust...

...And more dust throughout the pathway...

...No one around...

...All of them “sleeping”...

As dust and more dust continue being seen...

and then...

….He was stopped as the First Fallen Human was blocking the pathway as he was in Waterfall. The dark field with the colorful glow of the ECHO flowers. The glow of their red eyes was unmistakably recognizable with the sinister giggle as they held onto their real knife.

“Asriel, I'm sorry if you expected to go all the way home. Surely as “smart”  as you are you'll know that there's no point in returning home. After all, you're thinking it already aren't you? With these words in your pathetic mind “”Mom! Dad! T-their dead! Y-you've killed them, didn't you Chara?!”” They said with another giggle as the hand holding onto the knife went close to their face.

“Well, yes Asriel~. They are dead my dear, dear best friend~. Congrats, you have a little more of a brain cell in that dusty head of yours.” Chara said in such a tone that was supposed to only demean him.

Chara's smile grew as they saw those white furry paws clenching into fists of anger knowing they were getting under his furry magical body.

“When is it enough Chara?!” Asriel yelled out in a fit of anger.

“Enough? Asriel, Asriel, Asriel... There is no such thing as “enough”. The only thing there is, is when everything has finally been ERASED for good. This terrible ugly world where EVERYTHING must go, Humans, monsters and everything else that does not matter to me.  Only then, Well... to me is when everything is set right~”

His eyes widen as he heard them speak, taken aback from their words as if they were insane! The only thing he understood is what he knew for a time. That what they had been doing is what they believe is right to them. To Asriel what they were doing was wrong and that his way is the best for everyone, that Chara is just putting the monsters through suffering to the point there will be nothing left. The world that he knew would be lost forever... He cannot let that happen, not when there is a happy ending for his people where Monsters and Humans can coexist!

“You're insane!” He shouted those two words at them

“Insane? Can you really call me that when you went insane yourself, Asriel? I mean boredom does a lot to a person, doesn't it? I guess when you can kill yourself and load your SAVE file as a flower then I guess that would drive anyone to become genocidal. After you all so help them so many times, perhaps that's the deal sealer. Helping people, what's the point if it doesn't benefit you? I'm sure you understand that question. I wonder, what benefit you this time around? Redemption? Surely you aren't worried about your people because you care so kindheartedly.”

“It doesn't matter! I just want my people to live their lives happily! I do not seek any form of benefit!” He said as he sways his arm horizontally as he took a step closer to the fallen child. The fallen child who just grins at his words.

“Sure, Asriel. I believe you, oh wait...  you may actually believe those words. You are an idiot, after all, I do not believe your empty words. Then again, it changes nothing. After all, do you hear that?”

“I hear nothing...”

“Exactly, all those “sleeping” monsters. They already has been laid to rest by my lovely tool that helps them sleep so easily. All the while I get rewarded with their LOVE~.  Helping monsters like that surely does pay off. Doesn't it, Asriel?  Tell me what was your favorite tool? Was it the vines, your pallets or was it your lies to help them slee-?”

Before they could finish they tilt their head fully to the left as a fireball nearly hit them, feeling the intense heat that could be felt on their rosy cheeks.

“Oh? Pre-ejaculation there, my best friend. Surely you want to disappoint someone, hmm~?”

With a chuckle, they easily step to the side avoiding another fireball, although it may seem like they just simply went to the side the speed of theirs was immense The speed of the fireball was quite slow to them.  Suddenly they smile as Asriel dashes towards them and with a horizontal slide of his arm, a wave of fire came out of his paw only for Chara to leans backward with their red eyes watching the flames go past them and fall upon the ground behind them causing a small wall of flames.  With a sudden counter-attack, they swing their knife vertically just for the Boss monster to barely dodge it... Actually, it wasn't a perfect dodge as suddenly the mark of the knife's cut rip the torso section of the sweater. Thankfully Asriel himself wasn't cut.

Asriel steps backs and the appearance of many flames came at once, raining down upon Chara's location only for them to dodge each one as they get closer to closer to Asriel as he continues making a limitless rain of fireballs downfall at them. Once, Chara was close enough his eye barely caught wind of the attack and step back as he saw the vertical slash coming at him. The Boss Monster was able to back but then there it was a sudden pain at his left arm...

and then the sound of a...

THUD!

What landed on the ground wasn't some normal object. What it was made the Boss Monster yells out in pain as it was his left arm that was slice clean of off him. There it is laid onto the ground for just a moment until it dissipates into dust while dust spills out of where his left arm was meant to connect to.

“Well Asriel, I got to hand it to you, seeing you survive with your whole arm off is surprising. You aren't as fragile as many of those monsters are. You've grown stronger, haven't you? That makes me happy... After all, weaklings are boring.”

“AAHHH!! CHARA!! CHARA!!!!”

“Yes, I'm Chara~”

Suddenly with a sinister grin, they saw Asriel in rage rushing them with close-range fire attacks wave, and with the waves of fire coming off from his paw was burning the paw that was left. Their grin widening with every attempt showing them how far he has come which just brings such sadistic excitement on their face. Soon it wasn't just those waves of flames that left fireballs behind, no, now fireballs were appearing around them that homing right at them.  They felt the heat causing their body to sweat telling them that he meant business and that his fire magic has progressed immensely.  They even had to lean back once more but as well slice a fireball in half to just make sure it split away an inch from them.

“YES~! YES~! THAT'S IT ASRIEL, SHOW ME  HOW MUCH YOU WANNA KILL ME~! SHOW ME HOW MUCH YOU'VE GROWN! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA~! AHAHAHAHA~!”

Their laugh was maniacal with widening red eyes that glow brightly as they saw fire raining down upon them along with those being made to home on to them. He was being wonderfully reckless as his paw was burning and on fire. Using everything he has got to kill them, at least try to kill them! It was glorious!  Absolutely glorious!

“COME ON, ASRIEL! FASTER, YOU NEED TO GO FASTER IF YOU WANT TO HIT ME~!”

Their eyes saw the sudden paw at their face and a sudden combustion of fire coming out of it but that trick won't work this time. They twist and move their body to the side allowing them to slide past Asriel and give a quick but deep stab into the center of his back. As they pull it out they turn to face his back that had the large hole that stabbed caused upon his sweater and body. But, what Chara did not expect is the continuation of flames bursting out as he turns, flames that were burning his paw along with burning everything it comes across too as the paw moves with his body and aimed at Chara. Taking by the surprised of the moving flame they barely were able to react with it burning half of their body before they sudden lunge directly in front of him, his face looks down as his eyes meet with theirs...

...That is until he lost sight of one of his eyes with the agony screaming from the Boss Monster as the knife of the fallen child was inserted into his right eye socket. All the while Chara embraces the flames burning the left side of their body, their cruel murderous expression smiles with such glee as they dig the knife further into it.

“An eye for an eye Asriel!”

Their smile became twisted as they dig it even further into him. Fireballs raining down upon Chara and Asriel alike while the goat's flames that were coming out of his left paw intensifies. Fire consuming and trying to melt the left half of Chara's body but once Chara fully digs the knife into Asriel's socket they quickly pull it out along with his right eye with it and rushed out of the flames, showing half of their body melted and burned down. Chara's left eye was still connected but yet... It was melted and barely functioning. While black goop was coming out of their eye and the melted parts of their body that was on fire although it did not seem to bother the fallen child.

He stares upon them with his left eye as his right eye socket was now a large hole spilling dust, the flames that were being created died down as what was left with a charred paw and flames consuming the remaining arm of the boss monster. Asriel felt it, his body starting to give out even with the determination that lingers within him. The loss of dust from his arm and right eye was being so much that the magical nature of him was fading. The fireballs that were appearing no longer appearing just to show that he had reached his limit for this conflict.

Asriel was no Undying, there will be no stronger revival form from him nor does he need it. He was stronger, he believed he was stronger than Undyne even in that form due to his nature as a Boss Monster. Those who are stronger than normal monsters by default. Him being alive even with the loss of a limb and eye an shows that. Seeing the half-melted Chara proved that he was getting stronger but what he was worried about was that Chara wasn't using their full strength, they were never using their full strength. They only wanted to toy with him and yet as each encounter passes, they would put in more of their terrifying demonic power of their immense LOVE into it. What level were they...?

Asriel could only do one more action and Chara could feel it from the one eye that was scanning them.

[FIGHT] [ACT] [ITEM] [MERCY]

*Chara

*Check

[CHARA 9?ATK ?9 DEF ?? LV]

[YOUR BEST FRIEND = )]

Asriel's remaining eye widens as his information was limited. Was it due to his weakened state...  using one eye to check on them? There was a 9 but it was the second number. No, he should have known. They are indeed over anything he could think held imaginable. That was the true ability of the red SOUL. To break and forgo limits. Rather it was staying alive with 00.0000000001% health or going beyond LV 20. The red SOUL's true ability is indeed frightening depending on who's the person with the SOUL is.  But, knowing if the full power Chara has wouldn't be shown. That was solely was Chara's own doing, holding themselves back and slowly putting in more with each new conflict between them.

“The look on your face, Asriel. It's so exhilarating. I can sense what you are feeling, the sense of how terrifying I am to you and how weak you are compared to me. Even if you grow stronger, what then~? It will only go one way for you. You are nothing more than a worm looking for a way out of the dirt where you belong. Trying desperately to find a way out when in reality once you do... the cruel world will just show you there was no point in escape~. You've already lost Asriel, once I came back... There was no turning back for you and this disgusting world.”

Chara paused as they slowly walked up to Asriel, who couldn't even make the slightest movement from such a weakened state as the fire continues to consume more and more of him. A sinister tone that was filled with deadly cunning spoke to him.

“Course, you helped me so much my dear best friend. Even as you try your hardest to stop me you only paved the way for me to come closer to my goal. I have to thank you, honestly. Thus, I play with you as my thanks. After all, isn't that what you wanted? To continue playing with that best friend of yours, me~. Don't worry, Asriel. I LOVE playing with you too. You're the only one that can satisfy me, not our sad parents, not that idiot skeleton, not that pathetic monster they call a heroine, not a failure creation of a robot and certainly not that useless sad sack of bones who think he is one to judge. You, my precious dear best friend is the only one that fills me with such excitment~”

He felt the melted hot hand staining his right cheek with its black goop as they bought their face close to each other.

“Chara...! I... I will...”

“You'll~, You'll~? Don't worry, I'm sure you won't haha~. Maybe you will be stronger next time. Hopefully that time... You won't be so disappointing, As-ri-el~”

Without him able to react to the feeling of a quick cut across his throat was felt...

slowly, the cut became wider...

...Wider...

...And wider...

...Until the Boss Monster's head was torn off from its body and falls upon the ground only to become dust...

And with a loud THUD!

His body falls down towards Chara who kindly step to the side to let it hit the ground and watches it become nothing more than Dust and Ash from the flames that were on it. The underground became silent as Chara was left. Being all alone as they wait for the forced LOAD to happen, licking their knife and enjoying the taste of dust that was on their knife.

ASRIEL HAS BEEN KILLED!

TIMELINE WILL LOAD AUTOMATICALLY DUE TO PARADOX!

FORCE LOAD WILL COMMENCE SHORTLY!

#asriel dreemurr #chara #undertale #tw: death #tw: gore

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Beneath an Aurora Sky ch. 11

Summary: The South Pole Station is equipped for research and Edge has always made sure things run smoothly for the inhabitants. His charges are meant to follow his rules and regulations, and in turn, he makes sure they survive in the arctic temperatures. It takes plenty of hard work and determination and Edge, along with his crew, can handle both.

He wasn’t counting on one of the newest researchers. He wasn’t expecting Rus.

Tags: Spicyhoney, First Time, Arctic AU, Hurt/Comfort

Notes: So, bourbon came up with an amazing AU and did some lovely art for it: please look at it and love it.

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four

Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten |

Read Chapter 11 on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

The next morning, Edge reluctantly resisted the temptation to go to Rus’s room and check on him. To begin with, it wasn’t really appropriate to show so much favoritism, no matter how amusing it was the others at the station. He was here to keep them safe, not entertained.

His other reason for was more for his sanity. Trying to sleep the night before had been less than successful, his mind was filled with Rus, pretty Rus and his eager kisses, wondering if that eagerness would be extended to other areas, how the soft sounds he made muffled between their mouths would be in the open air. If Edge went to him this morning, he didn’t think he’d be able to resist if Rus invited him in again and he couldn’t shirk his duties no matter the temptation.

Instead, he wasted a shower token and stood beneath cold water until his bones were chilled, dressing briskly before heading down to the dining hall. Deciding to give in to Rus’s charms didn’t mean there wasn’t a great deal of work he needed to get done today and tonight…well, he would deal with that when it came.

The obscene pun that floated through his thoughts was firmly pushed aside, along with the mental picture of his brother grinning at it. A stroke of luck that Red was vanishingly unlikely to be up for breakfast this morning; his healing sessions took a toll and much as Red hated enduring them, he was usually happy to take advantage of the excuse to sleep in.

In the dining hall, the large table was already mostly filled, and to Edge’s surprise, one of the benches held Rus. He skipped breakfast regularly and after last night, Edge expected the same, the drunken flock that followed Undyne sleeping off whatever hangover they’d been granted.

His worries earlier about being invited into Rus’s bed now looked to have been for naught. Rus looked rather wan, his skull a shade paler than normal. It was a match to the other scientists who’d been with them the night before, the three of them looking more like extras in a polar zombie film than researchers. Breakfast this morning was a hearty porridge with plenty of topping to add, syrups and jams, berries grown in the hydroponic gardens and a dish of chopped dried fruit. Delicious and filling, perfect for dealing with the subzero temperatures, but those three were stirring their bowls apathetically more than attempting to eat any of it. Rus was slouched over his dish, his skull propped up on one hand and his sockets closed.

Unlike Undyne, who was shoveling in her portion eagerly, her bowl heaped high with all the fixings. She swallowed before flashing Edge a sharp-toothed grin. “Morning, boss!”

“Good morning,” Edge said evenly to the table in general. There were several empty seats he could have chosen. A message was being sent by taking the one directly next to Rus, and while Undyne surely got it from the way her needle grin widened, Rus didn’t seem in much condition to appreciate it.

Edge leaned over to him to ask softly, “How are you feeling, Rus?”

One of his sockets opened with a nearly audible creak, the pale eye light bleary and tinged orange. “thinkin’ about changing my middle name to regret.”

A mumble of agreement came from the others further down the table. Those two were leaning against each other, one holding up the other and Edge felt a faint jealous pang that he couldn’t do the same for Rus. No matter that a relationship with any of the researchers wasn’t against the rules—they were all adults and could choose to share whatever beds they liked—but some decorum was necessary. His command of the others depended on it.

That didn’t mean he couldn’t offer some soothing, and while he was trying to decide where he could safely touch Rus in front of the others, the kitchen door opened. Bonnie emerged, ducking a little to avoid clipping her long ears against the doorframe and carrying a tray of steaming cups. That in itself was unusual; coffee was readily available at all times in vast quantities, one of the largest supplies they ordered. She only set a one of the mugs in front of Rus and the other two in front of those who’d made the mistake of taking Undyne up on her offer of a drink.

What is that? Edge signed, warily curious, but Bonnie only gave Rus a light nudge, pointing to the cup.

Rus sat up straight, blinking, then took the cup and sniffed it. He cringed, his face clearly reflecting what he thought of the contents. He started to sign something, paused, and made a shoving aside gesture to begin again. He was facing away from Edge who only caught flashes of his hands, but Bonnie was watching him, her scarred face twisted with amusement.

When Rus finished, she shook her head and pointed firmly at the cup again. Whatever it was, Bonnie wasn’t taking no for an answer, and Rus sighed exaggeratedly, picking up the cup again. His face scrunched again in distaste, but he swigged back the contents, coughing and gagging lightly as he swallowed it.

The mug was nearly slammed to the table as Rus quivered, scrambling for his water glass and downing half the contents. By now, everyone was watching him, mostly with a sort of dismayed awe, or in Undyne’s case, glee, except the young women from the night before. Their horrified looks kept darting from Rus to their own mugs to Bonnie, who was waiting patiently for them to drink it.

“it does help,” Rus rasped out, flicking his bony finger against the mug. The ceramic chimed lightly. “old monster recipe, you’ll feel a lot better after. only problem is you need to drink it for it to work.”

“Is it safe for humans,” one of the women asked uncertainly. She was peering into the cup, attempting to identify the murky contents.

“oh, sure, it’s fine. you’ve all had a recent tetanus shot, right?” Her head snapped up and Rus laughed. Some color was starting to return to his skull and that alone was a good testimony, “kidding, kidding, yeah, there’s nothing in it that isn’t food-worthy. it’s just not usually mixed together. don’t think about it too hard, get it down the hatch, keep it down, and it’ll help.”

Edge fully expected them to both decline and instead, head back to their rooms to search out whatever analgesic they’d brought with them. It was certainly a surprise, and a pleasant one at that, when both of them clinked their mugs together in a sort of toast before slugging back the contents.

True to Rus’s word, getting it down was the most difficult part. Sweat broke out on their faces immediately, their eyes nearly bulging as they gagged down the sludgy liquid. Everyone was watching them avidly, taking in the latest episode in this ongoing drama as both women managed to swallow it, slamming down their mugs in triumphant unison.

“water,” Rus called, “trust me!”

Again, as one they scrabbled for their glasses, drinking them down and by the time they’d finished, some of their pallor was already receding.

“That actually helped,” the first woman said, wonderingly. She turned to Bonnie and her signing was awkward, one speaking by rote rather than a learned language, but it was still a recognizable ‘thank you’.

Bonnie’s smug expression flashed with shock. Unsurprising, no other researcher who had come to their station ever bothered trying to communicate to her in her own language. They took their food as their due, their heads and thoughts buried in their notes. Rus was the first exception, but a Monster speaking in hands wasn’t nearly as astonishing as a Human. Bonnie signed back ‘you’re welcome’, every movement slow and deliberate, chosen for one who was not fluent, and the Human woman smiled with delight, awkwardly mimicking until Bonnie nodded in satisfaction.

With a huff, Bonnie gathered up the mugs and disappeared back into the kitchen, paying no mind to the astonishing scene she was leaving behind.

Another researcher, one of the climatologists, spoke up, “You said it was an old Monster cure. Do you happen to have the recipe?” He already had a pen in hand, poised over a blank sheet of paper, but Rus shook his head.

“sorry,” Rus smiled wryly. “i can’t boil water without causing an incident and bonnie probably isn’t going to share her trade secrets.” Almost, Edge expected some belligerence, the common reaction when telling a Human researcher that he wasn’t allowed to know something; recipes, Alphys’s research, the Core. But he took it well, only sighing in mock disappointment and set his pen aside.

“If you want to try it yourself, I bet Undyne would be more than happy to help out,” the other woman said wryly. She was starting to show more interest in her oatmeal, spooning up a mouthful.

Laughter rounded the table, Undyne’s the loudest of all, “You bet, come on down to the kitchen tonight, nerd, I’ll show you some real research.”

More laughter, and Edge could hear the warm rasp of Rus’s, throaty and charming, so close to him. The table settled down, everyone digging back into their breakfasts. Even Rus, who began adding brown sugar and berries to his bowl, stirring it into a sugary sludge. He was left-handed, Edge realized, his right hand resting on the table between them as he spooned up mouthfuls of porridge. Sitting next to him was a message of its own and Edge knew that lightly settling his ungloved hand over Rus’s was another, not quite twining their fingers together, allowing for escape.

Rus stilled briefly, his spoon hovering in the air between the bowl and his mouth, dribbling porridge. Then he moved, but not to pull away. He only turned his hand over, meshing their fingers together and if it was slightly awkward trying to eat while holding hands. Edge found that he didn’t mind.

He could feel the weight of Undyne’s stare, her palpable satisfaction, but she said nothing, only helped herself again to the porridge pot, piling her bowl high with fruit and a heavy douse of syrup.

Edge’s own bowl was plain, with only a little dried fruit stirred in, but eating it was satisfying, and scraping up the last of it came far, far too soon.

~~*~~

Today was one of Edge’s days to work in the hydroponic gardens and normally he enjoyed it, picking over the plants for dead leaves, gathering the produce Bonnie requested for the evening meal.

But now with his thoughts lingering on his possible evening, the damp air seemed aggravating, too warm and claggy, clinging uncomfortably to his bones. Edge never claimed to be one of great imagination, but some heretofore undiscovered creative side of his thoughts seemed eager to suddenly prove their skill, offering him sly images of what Rus would look like it his bed, his pale bones against Edge’s sheets.

Ridiculous thoughts; he hadn’t even asked Rus if he would be interested yet. It could very well be that he had time-sensitive research ongoing and he didn’t have time to spare for Edge’s whims. Flirtations aside, that was what Rus was here for and it would be a very expensive waste for him to neglect it in favor of a little indulgent bed play.

The truth of that had no effect on Edge’s libido and while once it had been dormant, only showing itself on the rare occasions that Edge woke in the mornings to find a need for a little self-service, now it was well and truly roused. Demanding satisfaction in the form of a tall, slender skeleton with a soft laugh and teasing smile.

The crackle of the radio interrupted his untoward thoughts, his brother’s staticky voice coming out, “boss, you need to come down to the radar, right now.”

“On my way,” Edge said, already sliding on his coat. He bundled up hastily, hunching against the wind as he crossed over to the main building. The radar was in a room off the main entrance, meant for easy access. There was another in Alphys’s lab and he was sure she was looking at it with the same bleak dismay as Red and Undyne when Edge came in.

He didn’t bother shedding any of his outdoor gear, boots leaving puddle on the floor as he demanded, “Report.”

“There’s a storm blowing in,” Undyne said grimly. She tapped the screen where a large blob of red glowed. “We didn’t get an alert earlier because it wasn’t supposed to head this way. Looks like it decided to take a detour.”

“Who is still out?” Edge snatched away the sign-out sheet when Undyne held it out, scanning it.

“The seal gals are already in, I saw them coming in when I grabbed the sheet, I just didn’t give them a chance to sign off. But boss,” she pulled up the last sheet, tapping the surprisingly tidy signature at the bottom. “Rus went out to Checkpoint #3 after breakfast and he ain’t back yet.”

“He could be heading back right now,” Red pointed out.

“Or he could be standing out there with his ass hanging out and have no idea what’s coming,” Undyne countered. Her voice was sharp as her teeth, rich with concern. “We can’t reach him on the radio, but that station’s behind a ridge, communications have always been shit. Or the snow could already be interfering. Alphys’s been working on it, but—"

“I’m going out,” Edge announced abruptly. He tossed the sign-out sheet down on the table with a clatter as he pulled his gloves back on.

“Boss—“

But he was in no mood to hear their protests. “Even if Rus is headed back, he drives so slowly, he wouldn’t be back in time to beat the storm. He won’t make it if I don’t go out there.”

“you go out now, you’re staying out,” Red warned. His eye lights were dark, implacable. “unless you bump into him right outside the door, when you find him, you get to one of the shelters. don’t try to head back, not even in the cat.”

“I don’t need you to tell me how to handle a rescue,” Edge snapped, turning to the door. “keeping the researchers safe is my job!”

“Our job,” Undyne cut in, stilling him, “and no, you don’t. But you’re pretty damn fond of the fashion victim and you don’t have the distance you usually do.” Neither of them so much as flinched from his temper, following behind him. “Red’s right, you two will be safer in a shelter than trying to head back, you’d do better to shack up. Take one of the Core kits, just in case.”

“they ain’t been fully tested,” Red protested.

“They’ve been tested enough,” Undyne countered. She briskly unlocked one of the storage lockers, pulling out one of the units. It was the size of a lunch box but much heavier, a compact version of the Core that Alphys had been designing and tweaking. At the moment there were only a few locked up and scattered around the buildings in case of emergency. “It can work as a heat source. The shelters all have kerosene heaters anyway, but this works a hell of a lot better and if it doesn’t, you’ll still have the others as a backup.��

He took it, balancing the weight in his gloved hand even as Red eyed it warily. His brother shook himself visibly and said, “if you’re going, you need to get gone, bro. take any of the snowmobiles, they’re all fueled up and checked over. be fucking careful.”

“I will,” Edge promised. He dared to lay a hand on his brother’s skull, gloves scruffing over the knit cap that covered his injuries. But that was all and he turned on his heel, heading back out.

There was nothing but white emptiness on what little view there was of the hardpacked snow that made up the roads, no signs of the headlights of the Cat heading in. He hurried to the vehicle shed and the snow was already falling as Edge turned the snowmobile towards Checkpoint #3, obscuring his vision through his goggles. He knew the route well and didn’t hesitate, the headlight cutting through the darkness as he pushed the machine to its limits, the engine roaring over the sound of the wind.

There was a little time yet and he would need all of it.

tbc

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #beneath an aurora sky

[optimusphillip]

OptimusPhillip Reviews 16: Transformers: Generations Soundwave (WFC: Siege)

It seems that the old Micro Change Transformers can never get a proper update these days. Megatron can’t be a gun because that’ll apparently get kids shot, and a robot that turns into a camera or a microscope just doesn’t please the kids like it used to. But the thing that never ceases to amaze me is that apparently, kids don’t even know what cassette tapes are. Primus help me, I’m only nineteen and I already feel old! As a result, Soundwave and Blaster always feel the need to get creative... even when they’re marketed towards people who do know what cassettes are. Anyway, today we’ll be taking a look at Siege Soundwave, the latest attempt to update the classic communications officer.

Spaceship Mode

It seems that when Hasbro can’t think of a new vehicle mode for a Decepticon, they default to “Cybertronian spaceship.” As a result, Soundwave transforms into a flying brick with booster rockets and landing skids. At the very least, he proves my point about Hasbro forgetting the battle damage feature wrong. The entire top of the vehicle is slathered with silver weathering detail, as are the sides of the nose. It’s one of the busier examples of battle damage, and I’ll admit, probably my least favorite. At the very least, I don’t think the vehicle had much aesthetic value to detract from in the first place. On the plus side, all that sculpted detail I love so much is still here. I like the little antenna sticking off the back of the ship. Brings a bit of interesting asymmetry. Though I do question the decision to give him a cockpit.

In terms of functionality, it’s pretty much as much of a brick as it looks. You can play around with the position of the thrusters, but I don’t think that’s intentional. It feels like they just aren’t locking in the way they should. Most of the functionality comes from the weapons gimmick. Each thruster has a COMBAT port on it, where you can attach his weapons: a pair of matching cylindrical blasters with stubby little barrels. He also has his third weapon, a double barreled blaster that stores by tabbing in beneath the right thruster. All of their barrels are compatible with the blast effect parts, but strangely not the thrusters themselves. Though be careful when putting a blast effect on the “Concussion Blaster”, since the peg on that one is designed to slide in for a robot mode feature. Just remember to push back on the rear and you’ll be fine.

Aside from that, there’s not much to the spaceship mode. It’s honestly kind of a throwaway mode... but you do have an alternative.

Lamp Post Mode

Yes, after many years of fan-modes, Hasbro has finally made a real bonus mode. In this case, Soundwave is capable of transforming into the lamp post mode seen in the pilot episode of the cartoon, and to the toy’s credit, it doesn’t just consist of putting Soundwave into a T-pose. That said, it still has a lot in common with the robot mode, and it doesn’t really do much in this mode either: what you see is what you get. It’s more a fun novelty than an actual mode, and it is a lot of fun.

Conversion

Converting from spaceship to robot (or lamp post) is fairly bare-bones at its core, but actually does have some interesting tricks, particularly in the way the legs transform. Not only do the side panels of the legs fold up to hide the thighs, but the feet are cleverly concealed by a set of panels, which collapse up to fill the cavity left behind by flipping them out. From there, most of it involves flipping parts around the torso. The arms split apart and fold up from underneath the ship mode, and the waist assembly comes down from the back, and the thrusters collapse into a backpack. Take special note of the rear antenna, however: it must be folded down in order for the right arm to tab into place, and for his shoulder cannon to peg in.

Robot Mode

Soundwave continues the trend of Siege toys mimicking their G1 counterparts ludicrously well. Granted, Soundwave isn’t a particularly hard design to replicate, but they still pulled it off really well. The battle damage is, of course, still present, but it’s far more subdued here than in spaceship mode, since most of the spaceship roof is hidden away here. Now it’s mostly in his legs, with some scuff marks on his forearms, and my personal favorite detail: the cracks spider-webbing in his chest. It’s a clever way of incorporating the design feature, though it probably won’t win over those who still dislike it. Me, though, I like this level of battle damage, and would like to see more toys take the approach of this mode.

As far as other painted details, it’s about what you’d expect from a Soundwave: red bands around the wrists, silver on the faux tape deck buttons, a fully painted chest door, and some extra detail on the shins. Of course, the head sculpt is 100% Soundwave, though his eyes are done in yellow plastic rather than red, like his original toy. It’s kind of odd: eye color is usually the one thing Hasbro keeps from the cartoon over the toy, which makes Soundwave kind of an outlier among his teammates. Still, he’s got some good light piping, and if it really bothers you, a red sharpie should do the trick.

Siege has been a great line for articulation, and Soundwave so lives up to that standard. Ball jointed neck, universal shoulders and hips, with skirts to provide forward clearance, bicep and thigh swivels, double-jointed elbows, 90 degree knees, a waist joint and ankle rockers. Though I will say, the right shoulder does have a tendency to pop out of its socket. You know, as much as I found the antenna amusing, I feel like I’d rather have a secure shoulder.

For extra functions, the robot mode adds seven new COMBAT ports, meaning he can be armed up with extra weapons if you so desire. Of course he gets his classic shoulder cannon (or “Sonic Cannon”), which now has a jointed peg to serve as anti-air fire, as well as his “Concussion Blaster”, which lacks the midway extension, but still gets its blast effect compatible slide-out barrel. He also gets the “Blitz Charge Blaster”, which is unique to this version of the character, and which I honestly don’t use very much. Sometimes I’ll peg it onto his arm or something, but it just doesn’t feel right giving it to him. Though interestingly, it can actually be used with Siege Megatron to recreate his back-mounted cannon, in case the sword-gun doesn’t work for you. I may actually just end up doing that with it instead. And of course, the weapons can be combined to form the “Sonic Compression Mega-Blaster”: basically Soundwave’s two main weapons strung together with a gray rod. It’s honestly kind of underwhelming, though it’s length is impressive. I’m guessing this is the reason the Charge Blaster was included, but it feels like an odd choice, considering the two main weapons can just peg together on their own, and if anything look more cohesive that way.

But of course, it is Soundwave, and so it retains his classic gimmick. Pressing a gray button on his shoulder causes his chest compartment to spring open, with enough space to accommodate one cassette. None are included, however, so you’ll have to buy them separately. I like how his left hand has an extended finger, so he can actually be posed ejecting the tapes. One thing that merits mentioning, however, is that the chest door has no permanent stopper to keep it from going all the way down. Instead, it’s held up by the waist piece, which isn’t doesn’t clip in all that securely, so opening the chest may mess with some alignments. Oh well, it’s not a huge deal.

Normally, this is when I’d go into my final thoughts on the figure, but there is one thing I feel deserves a mention...

Boombox Mode (Fan-Made)

“If a Soundwave toy exists, fans will attempt to turn him into a boombox.” --Rule 84

It’s honestly not surprising that fans have made a boombox mode for this figure. Not only is Rule 84 totally a thing that I did not just make up, but this figure is so well-articulated and so accurate to the G1 model that it’s honestly child’s play to figure out. Of course, the legs aren’t designed to look like the sides of a boombox, and the thighs aren’t well hidden, but it’s still more than passable. That said, there’s one hiccup: the arms. The arms have no place to go in boombox mode, meaning they have to come off for everything to sit flush. Fortunately, they’re just on mushroom pegs, so they can be removed by hand, but it still means you have parts lying around. If you’re willing to shell out 15 bucks, however, you can buy a set of add-on parts that peg into the hollow parts of Soundwave’s arm mounts, creating a track for them to slide along. I personally do not see that function as being worth an additional $15, especially when I could 3D print a set of my own for cheaper (not counting the cost of CAD software and the printer itself, both of which I already have access to).

Function-wise... it’s a boombox. It retains the spring-loaded compartment from robot mode, but aside from that, it’s just a box.

Final Thoughts

If you love classic Transformers, this toy is a must-have. His official vehicle mode is forgettable, but his robot mode is phenomenal, and a great representation of his G1 self. In addition, not only does he have the secret lamp post mode, but he can also easily assume the best boombox fan mode I’ve ever seen on a Soundwave toy, making him an overall well-rounded figure, especially if you get the upgrade parts. But of course, what is a tape deck... without tapes?

#transformers #war for cybertron #siege #soundwave

[let-it-raines]

Love your stories! They're so extraordinary and you're one of my favorite authors! Here's a prompt for you "You fell asleep on the plane and I started making funny faces at your kid to keep him amused and the steward mistook us for a couple." Thanks!

The gif totally applies if you use your imagination, I swear. Also, thank you for your kind words, Anon! For you to say that is so sweet, and it caused a smile to bloom on my face when I got this prompt a few weeks ago as well as right now :D

After being home in London for three months, a part of him wants to stay with his family, his mum, Liam, and Liam’s wife and children, but a much larger part of him aches for the familiarity of his flat in Boston that he’s lived in for the past decade. That is home to him now, and he knows that the ache of missing his family will fade until it is bearable the longer he is away from them and the more miles he puts between them. He’s thought about packing up and moving back across the pond more times than he could count over the years, but something has kept him living in America. He has just never been quite sure what that mysterious call to stay has been. Maybe it is the novelty of living somewhere new, though Boston is as familiar to him as London now. Maybe it is the fact that as much as he loves his family, England holds some of his worst memories. Or maybe it is simply because he’s built a life for himself in America. He has a job he actually enjoys, mates to spend time with, and a place to rest his head that is all his.

However, none of that keeps the sting of saying goodbye to his family from affecting him as he boards the plane that will take him home. Some of that is likely due to the fact that it is five in the morning, and his head pounds behind his eyes so ferociously that his eyes may as well come out of their sockets. As he settles down into his seat, a blessed window seat for the long journey ahead of him, he thinks that maybe the flight won’t be so bad. Maybe he’ll get some sleep. And then a woman and a small babe that can’t be older the half of a year slide into the seat next to him, and while they are quiet now, he knows that they won’t stay that way for the next eight hours. He doesn’t blame them for it. That is simply the nature of children and is to be expected when you spend any amount of time with an infant.

He is just so damn tired.

The woman and her lad are mostly silent for the first hour of the trip as her boy sleeps and she watches a movie on the screen attached to the seat ahead of her. He finds that despite his tiredness and the pounding of his head, he becomes distracted by his neighbors. He can’t outright stare at her without making her uncomfortable (and frankly being creepy), but he does manage to pick up on a few things. She’s got long blonde hair that is twisted into intricate braids that remind him of the way Liam’s wife wears her hair. He’s never quite understood how women do anything but a simple braid down their back, and he’s curious about it as stray pieces of her hair fly away from their constraints and land near his shoulders in the cramped seats. He believes that she has green eyes hidden under the blonde of her eyelashes, and he wonders if her son has matching emerald orbs as well. The lad’s got a small hat on, but his brown hair pokes out underneath it from where it’s gotten mused during his slumber. He must get that from his father.

Where is his father?

It’s none of Killian’s business, but when you’re trapped in a flying vessel for hours on end you become fascinated with your seatmates. He once rode next to a woman who was allowed to bring her cat with her, and she spoke to the cat for the entire three-hour plane ride.

He’s mildly allergic to cats.

It was hell.

Just as he gets lost in his musings, the lad begins to stir, his small eyes fluttering open to reveal the darkest brown eyes he’s ever seen in a child so young. He looks nothing like his mum, and that shocks him a bit as the only children he knows are the perfect combination of their parents. But he also doesn’t know much about kids, so he wouldn’t use himself as an example of infant expertise.

The lad starts to fuss a bit, small cries emanating from his mouth, and the woman’s eyes shoot away from the movie screen to look down at her boy.

“Oh crap,” she mutters, taking her headphones out and adjusting him while she reaches down to look for her bag that’s stuffed under her seat, shuffling through the contents trying to find whatever the item is that seems to be alluding her. She’s obviously flustered and trying to balance everything in her lap while the plane hits a bit of turbulence doesn’t help he cause.

“Love?” he questions, tapping on her shoulder so that she’ll look at him, her green eyes (he was right) blown wide like she’s been shocked until they squint and her brows furrow almost like she’s angry at him.

“I know, I know. I’m annoying for bringing a baby on a plane, but I’m trying to keep him as quiet as possible, I swear.”

She’s obviously not had good experiences traveling with her son before, and he doesn’t want her to think he’s cross with her. He simply wants to help out for everyone’s sanity.

“It’s not that. I was just going to suggest that I hold the lad for you while you search through your bag. Or maybe I could search through the bag to help you find whatever it is you’re looking for if you’re not comfortable with me holding him.”

“Would you,” she begins, her lips parted in surprise, “you’d do that? You’re not pissed that you’re sitting next to the woman with the crying baby? You actually want to help.”

He was at first, but that’s just because he was bloody exhausted. He still is, but he’s pushing that aside. “I’m not pissed, no. He’s nothing but a wee one. He can’t help that he’s crying. You can’t either.”

“I mean, he’ll stop crying if I feed him, but I can’t find my nursing stuff to take to the bathroom. Plus, the entire plane is shaking, and I’m pretty sure I’ll get yelled at for moving around. Or I’ll bust my ass.”

He reaches up to scratch at his ear, suddenly nervous for a reason he can’t quite pick out. It’s like he’s scared of what this woman who he doesn’t know will think of him, and he’s never been one to worry about others he’ll never see again. “If you’d like to switch seats with me for more privacy, you can feed him here. It’s not a bother to me, but I know others can be prickly about that.”

She rolls her eyes before she smiles, and something in his stomach stirs. “You have no idea.”

He and the woman manage to switch seats with only a little fuss and one pointed stare from their flight attendant before she’s feeding her boy, the cries stopping and the woman sighing in relief.

“My name is Emma, by the way. I feel like if you’ve seen part of my boob you should probably know that. Though, I can say that hasn’t always been a true fact.”

He chuckles, mostly because he doesn’t know what to do as he did, in fact, accidentally see part of her breast, but also because the lass manages to have a sense of humor when at least fifteen people on this plane likely want to yell at her.

“I’m Killian, and I fear if I show you something equal I’ll both be a horrible human being and get arrested.”

“So your chest is that scary then?”

Oh, she’s feisty then. He can appreciate that.

“Like Wolverine’s.”

Emma snorts, and as awkward as it is, he finds himself smiling at her. “I don’t know if I’d constitute that as scary, just hairy.”

“That’s scary to some women.”

“A human being exited my body, so I don’t think something as simple as chest hair is going to scare me. To be honest, I kind of like it.”

He kind of likes her.

He and Emma talk for the next couple hours of their flight. He learns that she was in London visiting her brother who had yet to meet his nephew due to the distance between London and Boston. He’d offered to pay for her flights so that she could come, and she accidentally let it slip that it was the first time she’d had any help with Henry (that’s the lad’s name) since he was born. That’s what allows him to piece together his question about Henry’s father and where he is. Okay, so only some of the questions. He’s got many more about how a man could leave a woman as captivating as Emma and a child as precious as Henry, but it’s none of his business so he presses no further.

He does check to see if she’s wearing a ring, though. He can’t help himself.

She doesn’t share much about herself, but she doesn’t have to for him to know that she’s brilliant with a quick wit and very obviously gorgeous. He finds that he may be a bit infatuated with the woman he’s just met, and even if she is the dreaded “woman with a baby on a plane”, she’s the best seatmate he’s ever had.

Take that cat woman who was most definitely not Halle Berry.

Emma would probably be better than Halle Berry anyways. The altitude may be causing him to lose his marbles.

About halfway through their flight, Emma leaves with Henry to change his diaper, and when she comes back, he finally notices the bags under her eyes that most likely match his.

“Emma, love, I can hold him if you want to take a nap.”

She hesitates and brings her bottom lip between her teeth while she studies him. She’s obviously not used to help, and he can understand her not trusting him fully. He’s a stranger, and she can’t just be handing her baby off to anyone, even if they are on a plane where he can’t run off with the lad.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“Okay, just, um, if he starts fussing and I don’t wake up, wake me okay?”

“You’ve got it, love.”

Emma hands Henry over to him, and after she checks to see that he won’t fuss being in Killian’s arms, she settles herself down against the window, propping her head on the sweater she’s bunched up and falling asleep more quickly than anyone he’s ever seen fall asleep while on an airplane. It’s almost like magic.

“Alright, lad,” he bounces Henry up and down on his leg until he’s adjusted enough in his lap, “let’s see if we can find something colorful for you and me to watch while mummy sleeps.”

If you’d asked him five hours ago if he’d spend part of his flight watching cartoons and quietly singing nursery rhymes while he tickles a baby’s stomach and makes funny faces, he’d have said no. He’d have said bloody hell no, actually. But he’s somewhere over the Atlantic with a woman’s head resting on his shoulder as she sleeps (his heart rate is most definitely not beating at a normal pace anymore) while her child clings to his neck and is softly puttering against his skin, the both of them drooling onto his shirt. He doesn’t…mind it, actually. He kind of likes it, likes the fact that he’s helping out a kind soul simply because he can.

Plus, it keeps him busy, and the time seems to pass by much more quickly, and for the first time in his life while flying, he doesn’t actually want that.

Emma’s been out for about an hour and a half when the flight attendants start making their rounds for drinks, and he’s not sure if he should wake her or not to see if she wants a cup of coffee. He doesn’t get the chance, though, because the attendant is speaking to him before he even realizes it.

“Would you or your wife like a cup of coffee? Water? A soft drink?”

“Oh, um, she’s…I…she’s not – ”

“Coffee,” Emma mumbles beside him, picking her head up off of his shoulder before rubbing the sleep out of her eyes with her fists. He misses her warmth almost immediately. “I’ll take a cup of coffee.”

“How do you take it?”

“With as much cream and sugar as you have, please.”

“And you sir?”

“I’ll take it black.”

The attendant hands them their coffees in disposable travel mugs, something he appreciates it because it’s already easy to spill a cup of liquid on a plane when it’s just himself, but he cannot imagine what it would be like to drink one with an infant. When the attendant finally leaves, he looks over to Emma to see her practically inhaling her caffeine, the scalding heat of it seemingly not affecting her while he places his down on his tray to cool.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t correct her on you being my wife. I didn’t mean anything by it. I was just…I was startled, and it seems I forgot the English language. A bloody waste of thirty years of learning it if you ask me.”

Emma simply chuckles into her cup before placing her hand on his forearm and squeezing. Heat courses through his entire body, and he’s not sure if it’s from Emma’s touch or the fact that she was just holding the hot coffee and her hand is physically hot.

Both. It’s both.

“Don’t think anything of it. It’s easier not to correct than to try to explain. I had about fifteen people compliment my brother on his ‘adorable son.’ Henry looks nothing like David, but you put a man and a woman together with a kid and bam, they’re married.”

“Seems much less complicated than going to the courthouse for a license.”

“Yeah, but the nine month waiting period is a bitch.”

He barks out a laugh that not only causes everyone around them to look at him but for Henry to wake up as well, his eyes widening and frantically searching for something familiar until he finds Emma, his chubby little arms immediately reaching for her when he spots his mum.

“Hey, baby,” she coos, putting her coffee down on her tray before taking the lad out of his arms. “Were you good for our new friend? Yeah? I didn’t hear you cry once.” She turns to address him, worry suddenly in her eyes that causes them to widen. “He was good, right? Like, you’re not going to hate me for the rest of this flight for having a fussy kid and drooling on your shirt. Sorry about that by the way.”

“Think nothing of it, love. Your boy drooled on my other shoulder, so I’ve got two reminders of you to wash when I get home.”

“I never asked earlier. Are you…do you live in America or are you just visiting?”

“I live in Boston. Charlestown more specifically.”

“Dorchester,” Emma replies, a smile blooming on her face, and he can’t help but return it. “Maybe we’ll see you around if you’re up for people drooling on you some more…not that I drool often, just to clarify.”

“So it was a one time thing then?”

“Let’s go with that.”

Talking with Emma causes the flight to be over at an even quicker pace, and before he knows it, he, Emma, and Henry are heading toward baggage claim, Henry’s diaper bag over his shoulder and Henry on Emma’s hip.

“You don’t have to carry it, Killian.”

“It’s not a problem, love. It’s what a gentleman would do.”

“And you’re a gentleman?”

“Aye, I’m always a gentleman.”

His luggage comes first, and he goes to grab it while Emma points out her red suitcase for him as well, and he returns to she and Henry with two suitcases, a car seat, and what he hopes is a normal smile on his face because this woman and her son have him all flustered in a way that he hasn’t been in years.

“Would you, uh, would you like to share a ride home, love?”

Blush rises in her cheeks before she shakes her head no, and he tries not to be too disappointed in that. “My friend is picking us up, but thank you.”

He simply nods his acknowledgment, not knowing what else to say until Emma pulls her phone out of her pocket and types something out before thrusting the device in his face.

“You can put your number in there if you want. I figure if you can have a good time with me and Henry on a plane, imagine how well we’d get along when not so constrained.”

“Swimmingly. We’d get along swimmingly.”

He waits with her until her friend arrives in a bright yellow bug, and before she leaves, she presses up onto her toes and leaves a kiss against his cheek, her lips warm and soft against his skin. A shiver runs through his entire body, and he prays that Emma doesn’t notice the gooseflesh rising on his arms and the hair standing at attention on his neck.

“It was nice to meet you, Killian Jones. I’ll text you.”

And then she heads over to the car, setting up the car seat and buckling Henry inside before he hears her friend say “who’s the hottie and why isn’t he getting in the car with us?”. Heat rises in his cheeks while Emma throws her head back to laugh, her neck extending and her braided hair falling against her shoulder before she winks at him and they drive away, like a bright yellow dot in a sea of gray.

Unknown number: You want to get some coffee that’s not stale sometime? My driver has agreed to babysit.

Killian: Tell your driver that the “hottie” says he appreciates her for doing that. It’s a date, love.

The next time he flies to London, Emma’s sitting beside him with Henry in his own seat next to her. They booked their tickets together, and when the flight attendant asks him if his wife would like some coffee, he says yes without hesitation.

#cs prompt #cs fic #captain swan #captain cobra #captain cobra swan