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imyourbratzdoll · 9 months

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𝒂 𝒅𝒂𝒚 𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒇𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒚 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒓’𝒔 𝒄𝒂𝒃𝒊𝒏

hello, I want to thank @foxyprincessworld for inspiring me to write this.

connected to fairytale

summary - it has been a while since meeting ari in the woods, and while he goes out to gather food for you two, you manage to get yourself stuck.

warning - smut, inter-species, tiny fairy, stuck, slight fingering, creampie.

18+ only please, the gif and headers I use aren't mine.

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

Ari had gone out to gather some berries and vegetables from your little garden outside the cabin, ensuring you’d be stocked up for the rapidly approaching winter. While he was out picking, you were fluttering around the house, ensuring things were clean and neat. Since you met Ari that fateful night, becoming his partner, the cabin also became your home.

You had been cleaning all day in your human form, making sure you could cut the cleaning time in half with your size before finding a spot that no large thing could reach. You wave your hand, allowing your magic to dance over you and shrink you into your fairy form. You fly over to the area, noticing through the small hole that it has become dirty. You knew Ari didn’t care about these things, but you did. So, you began to clean, softly groaning as you kept missing a few spots, pulling yourself further into the tiny hole, your hips catching onto the sides. You wiggle, huffing when you realise that you are stuck. “Oh no… I do hope Ari gets back soon.” You let out a cute little sneeze as the dust tickles your nose.

Ari grins at the basket in his hands, loving that it’s filled to the brim and that he can show you what he’s managed to gather. He heads into the cabin, setting down the basket on the table and then looks around confused, wondering where you are as you usually came to greet him. “Fairy? Bear here!” He grunts, scrunching his nose. “Little Fairy?!” Ari begins to walk deeper into the house, becoming worried that something may have happened to you.

“I’m here, Bear. I’m okay. I’m just stuck...” You sigh and allow magic to flow through you, appearing before your man.

Ari stares at the bright ball, following it as it slowly leads him to where you are stuck. The ball disappears when Ari stops where you are, and his eyes widen. “Oh, Fairy! How?” He can’t deny that his cock twitches when his eyes land on your exposed arse, your dress lifted from wiggling. “Stuck?” You still weren’t able to teach him how to speak proper sentences, but you found it endearing with his short answers. Knowing he tries so hard, his face always scrunches up, trying to find the right things to say, and the thing you love most about him is even though it becomes hard for him sometimes, he never gives up.

“Yeah, Bear. I’m stuck, and my magic cannot get me out of this one.” You pout, not noticing that the more you wiggle, the more that becomes exposed, causing the giant bear behind you to become aroused. “Could you please help me?”

Ari nods, too preoccupied with how your arse jiggles and your sweet honey pot glistens. He licks his lips at the thought of honey and how delicious you taste. “Help after,” Ari growls out, quickly ridding himself free from his pants and gripping his thick, monstrous cock. He begins to stroke it, grunting as pre-cum leaks from his angry tip.

“What? Ari, what do you mean after? Bear?” He ignores you, too lost in his mind now. You softly squeak as his finger connects with your dripping cunt. You now understand what is happening and allow your magic to wash over you. “You can enter, Bear.” You whimper when he pushes his thick finger inside, stretching you and curling it, ensuring you are wet enough to take him.

“Okay?”

“Okay.” Your head falls forward as he pulls his finger out and replaces it with his member. His tip stretches you wide as Ari pushes in. “Oh, god…” He rests his hands against the wood, fucking into you harder and faster, enjoying how your tight walls squeeze him.

“Not god.” Ari growls, fucking into you harder. “I Bear!” Your tiny body rocks back and forth, and your eyes roll back as the pleasure intensifies. Your walls pulsate like crazy around Ari, causing a groan to slip out. “My Fairy!” Your arousal builds, leaking alongside his thick base, coating him and creating a white creamy ring. “So pretty and tiny.” He hums, staring down at your stretched-out cunt with a dazed look, entranced by how hot it looks.

Your fingers curl, nails digging into your palm. “B–bear! I’m going to–” You cut yourself off with a strangled moan. Your vision becomes white as your walls squeeze around him, and your juices squirt out of you. You fall limp, exhaustion hitting you. Ari continues to thrust into you, throwing his head back as his balls tighten, cock twitching. He releases thick amounts of cum into you, coating your walls.

Once Ari empties himself, his cock softens, and he slowly pulls out of you. “Bear, help now.” He grumbles, wiping off the sweat on his forehead before punching the wood, snapping it enough to rip it away and pull you out of the tiny hole. He lies you on the palm of his hand, looking down at you with a soft look, “Fairy, okay?”

You snuggle into his palm, looking up at him with a sleepy smile. “I’m okay, Bear. Thank you.” You give him a soft tap and sigh as he moves you to the chair. Your hand waves, and you feel your body slowly grow, allowing you to become human-sized. You stretch, kissing Ari’s palm as he rests it on your cheek. “How did your picking go, Bear?”

The smile on his face makes you think he’d be able to brighten up a room with how bright and gorgeous it is. Ari quickly moves over to the basket and brings it back to you, showing you the many things he picked. You smile, eyes dancing around the many different colours. “You did wonderful, Bear! I could maybe make some soup for dinner and a pie for dessert.” You slowly stand, legs feeling like jelly.

Ari places the basket back down and pulls you into him by the hips. He looks down at you with such love and adoration, like he cannot believe he has you in his life. “Bear love Fairy… S–so much.” He wraps an arm around your waist while his hand cups your cheek, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss on your lips. “Pretty Fairy.”

You smile, eyes becoming clouded with love. “I love you too, Bear, so much. My big handsome bear.” Your hand rests flat on his chest, and the other cups his cheek, stroking the soft beard underneath before moving up to scratch between his cute bear ears. “Why don’t you get some rest? You’ve been working so hard lately.” Your lashes flutter as you continue to stare up at him. “I’ll prepare dinner, okay?”

Ari shakes his head, huffing. He peppers kisses against your face, smiling at how beautiful you look. “I help.”

That night you and Ari make dinner, and as that is cooking, he helps you prepare dessert. You couldn’t have wished for anything better. He’d wrap you in his arms as you made the food before pulling you over to the couch, holding you against him while you both waited for dinner. Your hand rested against your stomach, knowing that when you finally told the news to Ari, he would be so happy. You’d finally have everything you had ever wished for.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

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muneca-lemon-steppa · 6 months

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ANGELLL!!! I AM OBSESSED W YOUR ALFIE FICS. I loved your 'A brother for Cyril' fic and I wanted to ask if you'd consider a kinda 'sequel' of Alfie and his wife introducing the two dogs and Alfie thinking they'll hate each other only for them to actually become the perfect dog siblings?! Please don't feel bad if you need to decline, I'm just throwing random ideas at the wall as I saw you were seeking some. sending you lots of love always and thank you for the work you do ❤️

Anon!!! Hi friend ah this was so so sweet!!!! Thank you for sending this in this was literally such a kind message I feel so blessed!!! I hope you enjoy this story, I took it a little further than I anticipated, but I hope it satisfies 💕💕💕 sending my love! - Mo

A Brother for Cyril: Part 2

Alfie Solomons x Wife!Reader

Warnings: language, mentioning pregnancy

One thing is for certain... Alfie could never deny you anything.

To someone on the outside of your relationship, it would looked as though you were irreperably spoiled. Alfie absolutely doted on you... in his own way. It didn't make sense to those on the outside. One moment you two were fighting as if your lives depended on it, hollering and shouting obscenities, arguing about the best way to handle something. The next moment he had you in his lap, chuckling into your neck, 'begging' for forgiveness with kisses and whispered promises, "Oh treacle don't be cross with me now! Give a kiss yeah? You can't be mad at your husband forever!"

And you couldn't. You could never be truly cross with Alfie. Even when you were fighting, it wasn't truly directed at him. It was just your passions overflowing and exploding, ignited by his own stubborness. And God did you love setting each other off. For the making up was so sweet.

Alfie loved spoiling you. He loved giving you things. A sweet treat from the bakery. Delicate earrings and necklaces from his jewelry shop, engraved with his initials. A bouquet accompanied with a sonnet of his own composition. Alfie loved to dote on you endlessly, and loved to give you any type of happiness.

But this was a rat dog.

Alfie could not believe that he was actually stuck with this piece of lint. And was even more in shock that not only was he stuck with it, but you loved the piece of fur. Alfie was struggling to keep the scoffs at bay, as he watched you coo and caress the puppy, as it gave small kisses to your fingers. “Oh Alfie I’m so happy we’re going to have another dog. We really did need another puppy.”

He prayed you didn’t see the rolling of his eyes. This wasn’t a dog. Cyril, now that was a dog!! This ball of fur was pathetic! Cyril was big and strong, and was good at things! Like guarding the house and playing fetch and roughhousing on the floor. And Cyril just looked impressive! What would people think if they saw this piece of dust walking on the end of a lead held by him? Could it even walk? It was being cradled like a human baby the entire time. It was tiny… what if Cyril ate it? Alfie placed a heavy hand on your shoulder, “Now darling, don’t be shocked if Cyril and…”

“Barty.”, you reminded him.

“Yes right Barty, if they don’t get along. Cyril is a man’s dog. He probably won’t want to fraternize with the likes of Barty.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at your husband, “Fraternize? Alfie, Cyril is a dog. I don’t think he’s overly concerned with social standings in the dog park.”

“Well dear see that’s where you’re mistaken. Me and Cyril yeah we talk. Man to man. And I’m not sure little Barty here will be able to keep up. He seems a little delicate.”

“Alfie you’re not even giving him a chance!! He is just a baby!”

You held up Barty to look into Alfie’s eyes, “Look at his face darling!! He can fit in! Cyril and him are going to get along perfectly!! He just needs your love and acceptance!”

Alfie stared into the barely open eyes of the puppy, and just squinted, as if trying to measure the baby’s spirit. You moved Barty closer to Alfie, being nearly nose to nose, neither Alfie nor Barty blinking. And then Barty licked Alfie’s nose with a yip.

“OH LORD! BARTY!” Alfie lurched back, spluttering and rubbing the minimum slobber off his nose. You just cackled in your seat at your ridiculous husband. The mad baker of Camden upset by some dog slobber! “Alfie! It’s just a kiss! And Cyril’s slobber is much worse!!! You don’t care when it gets on you! You don’t mind his kisses!”

“Well first off Cyril does not kiss! Cyril snarls! And Barty and I just met! Where does he get off kissing already!”

You couldn’t stop laughing and teasing your dear husband. He was such a secret to the outside. To everyone else, he is ferocious and unfeeling. Absolutely mad and vicious. But your Alfie… your Alfie had such a different side to him. You weren’t naive. You knew what this life entailed. Hell, you were his secretary before you were his wife. You knew what Alfie was, and knew what it took. But you weren’t afraid of him. Alfie wasn’t just the King of Camden. He was an animal. But he was also tender and artistic. He bellowed and roared and tore through men like nothing. But he also whispered his undying love for you every night, and pressed hot kisses to each of your fingers every morning. Alfie was everything. And that’s what people missed. And it’s what you cherished. That you got to hold the Mad Baker and Alfie Solomons in one.

When you got to the house, Alfie waved to Ollie goodbye, and guided you through the door, hand firmly on your waist. As soon as he opened the door to your home, the pounding sounds of massive paws fill your ears. Cyril makes a bee line to his father, and immediately starts pushing his head against Alfie’s stomach, “Hello my boy! My Cyril!! You miss your papa and mum yeah? You’re so good, you watched the house for me yeah?”

Cyril’s sweet face broke out in a large smile, panting and leaning in to Alfie’s touch. After giving all the love his boy needed, Alfie finally straightened, preparing to witness what may be a bloodbath. “Alright Cyril sit my boy sit. We have brought you something.”

Alfie motioned for you to hold out Barty, “Cyril my boy, mummy and papa have decided that you need a brother. This here is Barty, and you’re going to teach him how to be a real dog.”

“Alfie!”

“Well he’s not a dog darling! Go on put the little runt on the ground, let Cyril sniff him out.”

You gently put Barty on the ground near Cyril’s front paws. You stand back up, shifting closer to Alfie, waiting for what was to come.

Barty managed to pull himself onto his tiny paws, sniffing the air around Cyril. Cyril’s head went to the side, as if trying to understand what was just put in front of him. He leaned all the way down sniffing Barty for a long time and then… gave him the biggest kiss Alfie had ever seen.

Cyril began to bark, and bounce around with all his young dog energy. Barty began yipping excitedly hopping around Cyril’s feet. “Barty! Are you so excited to meet your big brother?” You we’re so excited, so happy that the dogs were getting along, and Barty had been accepted into the Solomons pack.

After dinner, you and Alfie took your tea in the parlor, nestled together, enjoying each others presence and the radio playing softly. Cyril and Barty were snoring together close to the fireplace. Barty was snuggled right against Cyril’s stomach, legs kicking ever so often, lost in a dream.

“I cannot believe this… Cyril has gone soft.”

From your place on Alfie’s chest you swat him, “Leave them alone. It’s sweet.”

“He romped. He’s never romped before.”

“Well you did tell him to teach Barty how to be a dog. He’s just being a good big brother. I saw him trying to play tug of war with him. It was very sweet.”

Alfie just grunted, staring off into space. Until he hummed out, “Sweet heart?”

“Yes darling?”

“Would you ever want… human puppies?”

You sat up straight, “… do you mean babies?”

“Nevermind it was stupid.”

You laughed loudly, grabbing his shoulders for him to face you, “No you stubborn man! It’s not stupid, I just have never heard someone say 'human puppies'."

He just mumbled to himself, as he typically does, but still grabbed your wrist, pressing a kiss to the inside of your palm. Meeting your eyes you feel those butterflies in your stomach that still haven’t left after all of these years, he presses you “Well?”

You sigh, smiling softly, thinking and considering as your fingers comb through his hair, “Hmmmm I’ve thought about it. Had dreams about it. I’ve always wanted a big family, just like how I grew up. I’ve thought about you holding and playing with the children. Absolutely spoiling them with your affection. Teaching them. Being the man that I know you are. I just didn’t think you wanted kids.”

Alfie leaned into your touch, still holding your hand, “I just didn’t think I’d have the chance. You know… to have a family. Thought I was getting too old. Then here you come… crashing in my bachelor life. And now… I just keep thinking about it.”

You leaned in, heart glowing at his vulnerability. You knew it was sometimes hard for him to discuss those deep feelings, it made him feel exposed. But the fact that he still opened up like that to you, it spoke to the volumes of trust between the two of you. Pressing a soft kiss to his lips you whisper, “If you want children Mr. Solomons, let’s have them.”

You think you see a small glitter of a tear threaten to show itself in his eyes, before he says, “Cyril could teach them how to be dogs too.”

The rest of the evening flows in laughter and kisses. As you dream with him about what the future holds, Cyril admires from his place on the floor, keeping his new little brother safe, and thinking about the new siblings sure to come.

#alfie solomons #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons x y/n #alfie solomons x you #alfie solomons fanfic #peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic

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officialaemondtargaryen · 9 months

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A Fine Line [part 3]

Summary: You've been with Aegon for a little over four years and the relationship just isn't the same. His brother isn't helping the situation, either. This is a Modern Day AU!

Pairing: Aegon x Reader / Aemond x Reader

Word Count: 4.0k

Author’s Note: Sorry it was late! I don't know if my M,W,F schedule is going to work. I just want to say thank you all! I really hope you like this one and please, I would love to hear your thoughts & predictions! I basically screech like a pterodactyl whenever you guys leave comments! Tag list is open!

Warnings for the entire series: severe angst, cheating, unprotected sex, jealousy, lying, possessiveness, stalking, manipulation, and language, alcohol use, recreational drug use.

Read Part Two | Read Part Four

Playlist here

The light from the early, Saturday morning sun filtered into your bedroom through half-opened blinds, illuminating tiny specks of dust in the air. It was warm with Aegon pressed against your back; his soft breaths fanning over your shoulder. You stirred softly, turning so that you were facing him, doing your absolute best to not disturb him so that he could continue to sleep in.

It broke your heart to look at him now, knowing that your relationship was hanging by a thread. Wondering how you got here, how you arrived at the platform of whatever these feelings were that you felt for him. Caught between the memories of what you had once before, and feeling as if you were in this bed alone, despite the fact that he was laying right next to you.

You moved, swinging your feet over the side of the bed as you stood up with a sigh. Aegon groaned, his arms reaching for you before turning back over on his stomach and going right back to sleep. His wavy, golden hair splayed out on the pillows as he shifted deeper into them. The duvet pulled down, exposing his freckled shoulders. It took everything in you not to reach out and touch him.

Even your fingers balled into a fist, nails digging into your palm to keep yourself from it. Why? You'd wind up disappointed, feeling unwanted, and he'd be annoyed that you woke him.

The thought made you want to cry.

It was around noon when he finally emerged from the bedroom. You had lost track of how long you'd been sitting at the kitchen table; a bagel untouched on the plate in front of you. You jumped slightly at the feeling of his hand on the back of your neck, just briefly touching you as he made his way to the coffee maker. It was a fleeting moment, his fingertips leaving you just as quickly as they came.

He was in a white t-shirt and a pair of boxers. Despite his disheveled appearance, he looked close to angelic- even with the dark circles under his clouded, blue eyes. You could hear him inhale and exhale heavily with his first sip of coffee; shoulders rising and falling with his breath.

When did it become this way? This silence?

You used to look forward to Saturday mornings; knowing that you had two full days with him to yourself. You'd spend every weekend tangled on the couch or in the bed, not getting up unless you absolutely needed to. Weekends in the summer were always fun, too. He'd always find something for the two of you to do; getting high at the beach, spending your days at Coney eating corndogs and funnel cake until you wanted to throw up or throw yourselves right off the end of the pier. You missed his ice cream cone kisses and the way he would lay his head in your lap as you would read whatever novel you had brought with you that day.

"Colleen Hoover," you whispered to yourself as you absentmindedly stirred your lukewarm coffee; the last book you remember reading on a beach towel under the hot, July sun.

"What was that?" Aegon asked, turning to face you.

You were broken out of your trance and looked up at him. "What?"

"I think you went somewhere," a goofy smile replaced his signature pout. When you didn't say anything, his smile faltered. "Did you sleep okay?"

"Mm," you hummed and took a sip of your coffee before making a face. It was definitely lukewarm- cold, even. "So, awards ceremony tonight, huh?"

Aegon rolled his eyes, "If I could just not, I would not."

You stood up and dumped your cold coffee down the drain and sat your cup in the sink. "But babe," you sighed softly and reached for him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. "Look at everything you've accomplished, what you've become! You've worked so hard!"

His eyes were glued to the floor. "You're right," his lips turned up into a smile as he looked up at you through fair lashes. His hands caressed the skin on the back of your arms. "I've worked really hard, and soon it will all pay off and we'll buy a house and get a dog." His forehead pressed against yours as he sighed. His eyes fluttered shut. "A golden retriever, we'll name him Sunny."

"Sunny sounds like he's a really good boy," you whispered and moved to place a kiss on his lips.

"The best," his body became less tense.

You smiled as you stood like that for a moment, just swaying back and forth as he held you so close that you could feel his heartbeat. He was so warm in your arms that you felt like you were holding onto a piece of the sun. You turned your head to place a kiss on the side of his neck, lips brushing the soft skin under his ear, wanting nothing but to tell him that you loved him, that you missed him, that you wanted things to go back to the way they were. But your eyes fluttered open as you heard his phone vibrate on the counter, the moment instantly shattering to bring you back to the reality of your mediocre life. Aegon tensed, his head falling to your shoulder as he groaned in annoyance.

"And so it begins," he mumbled. He let the phone ring, knowing that Otto would call back immediately after it went to voicemail.

Before he could leave the kitchen, you stopped him.

"Hey, would you mind if I invited Aemond to go bowling with us tonight?" You asked, gnawing on the inside of your cheek.

"Not at all," he shrugged. "It'd probably be good for him to get out. Let me see what this fucker wants and then I'll text you his number."

Aegon left shortly after, having been summoned to some "pre-ceremony conference" just to finalize the details of the evening. He had sent over Aemond's contact information before he left, promising that he would see you later tonight. Suddenly you found yourself alone, the silence sitting with you like a friend that you'd run out of things to talk about with.

You stared at your phone for what felt like hours, thumbs hovering over the keyboard; not sure why 'hey, did you really want to go bowling' was such a hard thing to say, but you typed it and deleted it about one hundred times. The final time you typed the words, you quickly pressed the tiny, blue arrow, sending the message into the void before setting your phone face down on the table and standing up.

Before you had even turned to walk out of the kitchen and towards your bedroom, you heard a ding! The butterflies in your stomach, which shouldn't have been there, fluttered mercilessly almost making you nauseous. You inhaled at the sight of the words on the screen, your eyes scanning them over and over again: "Of course, I'll see you there." What was most likely an unambiguous winking emoji at the end of that sentence- because in your experience, men didn't know what emojis even were- was staring back at you with a strange tension that caused a knot to form in your throat.

It was wrong.

It was all so, so wrong.

You placed your phone back down on the kitchen table and shook your head; fighting an internal battle with the guilt and the excitement that you felt. Neither one was winning, but both were slowly tearing you in half.

The thought of cancelling crossed your mind as you showered, but only because you found yourself fantasizing about every possible scenario that would lead to this night ending with you on your back in Aemond's bed. You pictured a navy blue duvet and cold, cotton sheets; a wooden headboard tapping against dark colored walls. Your legs clenched together at the thought of his weight pressing down on you.

As you continued to get ready, the images were becoming ingrained on the back of your eyelids. Every time you closed your eyes small details would change; positions, locations, where his mouth was on your body, the lighting of the room, the scent of his cologne, if his hair was up or down. You had tried to reason with yourself, that this was a completely normal feeling, that you just hadn't been laid in a while.

It didn't make a difference.

You half-hoped that he wouldn't follow through with his plans to meet you at the bowling alley. However, when you turned the corner on to 9th Avenue, you noticed his lithe figure leaning against the outside of the building. You stopped for a few seconds, watching him as he stood there; his warm breath swirling in the frigid, January air as he checked his phone.

Seconds later you felt a vibration in your pocket: "I'm here."

"I have to ask, what is your haircare routine because I've yet to see you have a bad hair day." You texted back.

He looked up and around until his gaze caught you, a small smile tugged at his lips as he pushed himself off of the side of the building. You joined him at his side, your neck craned to see his face.

"It is surprisingly simple, but if I told you then I'd have to kill you," he said so smoothly he could have rehearsed it. "And I like you," he added as he opened the door into the bowling alley and gestured for you to go inside. "So, I'd rather not say."

You smirked at his words, eyes rolling slightly. "If you ever change your mind, here's my business card-" of course you had one with you. "My readers would love to know."

He chuckled at that, "I absolutely will," and tucked the card in his coat pocket. "So who's birthday is it?"

"My coworker, Jace," you replied as you scoured the lanes for Baela and Jace. "He's probably a few years younger than you, writes really thoughtful obituaries." You spotted Baela and waved. "Baela is here, too. You met her last night."

You weren't sure why you felt nervous. Aemond certainly didn't seem to be. He was so calm and collected, and cool, as if it was effortless to him; as if he didn't command every eye to look at him the moment he entered a room. The look on Baela's face couldn't have been further from calm, collected, and cool. Her white curls fell over furrowed brows and her lips were pushed to the side.

Jace just looked happy to be there.

"Hey guys," you greeted as you stepped down to the table they were sitting at. "Happy birthday, Jace!" You moved to give him a quick hug. "Jace this is Aegon's brother, Aemond. Aemond, this is Jace. Aegon couldn't make it, some work thing."

"Lucky me," Aemond smirked as he shook Jace's hand. "It's nice to meet you." He then turned his attention to Baela. "Lovely to see you again, Baela."

Despite her rigid expression earlier, you did see her cheeks turn just a shade darker as he kissed her knuckles. You smiled to yourself.

"You guys should go get shoes," Jace mentioned. "Unless you're afraid to lose."

Aemond's eye squinted as he looked at Jace and laughed, "In a hurry to get shown up on your birthday?"

"Go get the shoes!" You groaned at him, pushing him towards the rental counter. "I'm a size __." Your eyes followed Aemond as he disappeared through the crowd before you turned your attention back to Baela. "What?"

Her arms were crossed over her chest. "I'm just concerned," she says softly. "You've been here all of five minutes and I haven't seen you this happy in two years? I just don't want you to do something that you'll regret."

Your shoulders slump and you rolled your eyes dramatically. "Baela, I'm just-" you stopped when you saw Aemond making his way back over to the table. "Being nice! Two people can be just friends."

She gave you a look but dropped the subject as Aemond dropped your bowling shoes in front of your feet. Someone ordered a round of shots, and then a second round, and a third. It was starting to get warm, the music was loud, and you felt good. Aemond was surprisingly extroverted, despite the enigmatic aura he typically projected. He seemed so nonchalant, like he belonged there, like he was good at it.

The game was obviously competitive, with Jace and Aemond doing their best to one-up each other with every strike. They carried most of the score, while you and Baela joked around, not really caring. You stepped up to the line, getting ready to throw the swirly purple and teal ball down the lane.

"Wait, wait, wait!" You heard behind you. A flurry of pale blonde hair bounced towards your side. "I've watched you throw three straight gutter balls, please, allow me?"

"What?" You gasped. "I know we're behind, but I'm not going to cheat and let you take my shot for me!"

Aemond held a hand to his chest, "The fact that you would even insinuate that I'd allow you to cheat!" He scoffed. "Please, just-"

He turned you back to face the pins, the contact of his hands on your shoulders made you disoriented. You tried to breathe, but it was so warm in there. There was a slight rosy hue to his otherwise pale cheeks as he towered over you. His hands lingered still on your shoulders. You tried not to pay attention to the way his fingers pressed into your skin as your blouse shifted beneath his grip.

"Put your feet here," he instructed and pointed to where you should stand with his toe. One hand dropped to the small of your back, you swallowed thick. "Now," his lips were dangerously close to your ear. "Line your ball up with that pin and when you step up to throw, bring this leg back."

You felt the inside of your body clenching as his hands dropped to your waist. Your cheeks flushed as the hair on the back of your neck stood straight.

Following his instruction, you took a few steps up to the pine and released your ball. Within seconds it curved to the left, falling straight into the gutter once more. You turned to look at him with a disappointed frown. His lips couldn't help but begin to turn upwards at your failure.

“I thought you said you were good at this?” You say to Aemond, giving him a playful shove. "We're going to lose!"

"And you'd blame me?" He asked with a smile.

"You instructed me right into a gutter ball!" You threw your hands up.

"My instruction was flawless, as always," you could hear the double entendre in his voice. "Not my fault you couldn't focus."

"I beg to differ," you quipped under your breath, knowing that he was close enough to hear you.

On his next turn, Jace bowled a strike to win the game. The scores weren't even close, but it didn't matter. You'd had more fun tonight than you'd had in- well, since you could remember. For a moment, you'd wished Aegon had been here, but you shut the door on that thought as you checked your phone to see that he hadn't texted you- not even to check in- since he left the apartment earlier.

Your eyes connected with Aemond as you slipped your phone back into your pocket and you smiled softly. You hardly knew him, but you could tell he knew; Aegon was his brother, after all.

"Another game?" Jace asked.

"I don't think I have another game in me," you chuckled. "My shoulder is killing me after the three games we just played."

"The three games you lost, you mean?" Jace countered.

"Hey, I know it's your birthday, but I will still kick your ass!" You laughed as you slipped out of your bowling shoes.

"We'll have a rematch, soon." Aemond interjected, holding his hand out to Jace. "Good match."

"Girls versus guys next time, maybe?" Jace laughed and shook Aemond's hand.

"That wouldn't be fair," Aemond mentioned with a cocky smirk.

"I wouldn't underestimate us," Baela added as she slung her arm over your shoulder and began walking with you towards the counter to drop off your shoes.

The midnight air was numbing as you stepped out of the comforting warmth of the bowling alley. You were almost instantly sobered, feeling tiny flecks of snow fall to your face. The sidewalks were still buzzing and the traffic on 9th Avenue was still busy as car horns sounded in the distance; a reminder that you lived in a 24 hour city.

"Anyone want to go grab a slice of pizza?" You asked. One, because you needed something to soak up the alcohol in your stomach. And two, because you knew that once Jace and Baela left, you'd be alone with Aemond.

Baela hugged you tightly before holding you at arms length, she mentioned something about going to church with her parents tomorrow morning and promised to see you bright-and-early Monday morning. Jace was already flushed from having a few, too many drinks, and Baela urged that he needed to get home.

You weren't necessarily disappointed, just anxious.

"Thanks for coming," Jace smiled warmly as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder in a side hug. He extended his fist out to Aemond, "it was good to meet you, man."

"Likewise, have a good night." His voice was soft through a tight-lipped smile.

You watched as Baela and Jace turned the corner, before turning your attention to Aemond. The headlights of passing by taxi cars shined in his crystalline eye, making him look as if he were unreal; a marble statue dressed in all back with his hands shoved into his pockets. You weren't sure what to say to him, if you should stay or go.

"Can I walk you to the train?" He asked and you exhaled with a smile.

"I'd like that," you replied.

The closest subway platform was two blocks down on 42nd. You did your best to keep up with his long strides, but it proved to be difficult. He had to stop a few times, turning to you with a smile while he waited for you to catch up. You mostly talked about work to keep the conversation going. The one thing you had noticed about Aemond was that he was a good listener, whether he actually cared about anything you were saying or not, he at least seemed to be interested.

He talked about himself, too, which you enjoyed. He talked about all of the places he had travelled to last year and how happy he was to be back home. He gushed about being able to see his family again, specifically his mother and his sister.

You'd never once heard Aegon speak about his family in such a way.

"Can I ask you something?" You said after the conversation had faded out. Your train was running late, but Aemond had been willing to wait with you so that you weren't alone.

"I can't guarantee I'll have an answer, but go for it."

"Why didn't you tell Aegon that we had met in the grocery store?"

He looked at you, his eye narrowed. "Honestly, it's just easier not to say anything sometimes." He spoke, a pensive expression across his pointed features. "Why didn't you?"

You dropped you gaze to the concrete floor. "Because it's just easier not to say anything, sometimes." You repeated his own words, knowing exactly what he meant.

"Hm," he hummed as he leaned up against a brick column. "You know," he said after a few moments of silence. You looked back up at him. "This can't happen." He motioned to the space between the two of you.

"What? Never!" You replied quickly. "I'm appalled that you're even assuming."

"I'm just making sure we're on the same page," he held his hands up defensively.

"We are," you agreed.

"We are?" He asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Yes, we're friends," you replied sternly. "That's all it can be."

"Good," he stuck his hand out for you to shake on it.

You shook his hand with a firm grip, but he turned your hand over in his, placing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. It made your heart flutter every time. The announcement that your train was arriving played on the overhead speakers.

"Thank you, Y/N. For tonight." His blue eye was piercing through you. "That was the most fun I've had in a while."

They way he said your name and the feeling of your hand in his made you wish he'd just take you home with him; to that navy blue duvet you were picturing earlier. But that was just a fantasy that lived in your mind only, and would never- could never come to fruition. He was right, Baela was right, this couldn't happen.

"You're welcome, I'm glad that you had a good time." You said softly, doing your best to hide your disappointment that the night was ending. "Thank you for coming with me."

As the train pulled up to the platform, you wished that he would pull you into him. The crisp air was thick with tension, and even though you had just agreed to the terms of this- you weren't even sure if you could call it a relationship- friendship, a look lingered in Aemond's eye that told you he didn't mean any of it.

"Friends," you repeated, reminding yourself and him of the deal that you had just made.

He nodded, "Friends."

"I hope you have a good night, Aemond." You pulled your hand from his slowly until it dropped to your side. The doors to the train opened and you found yourself a spot next to the window, forcing yourself not to look back.

Aegon isn't home when you step into your apartment. It's almost too dark and cold, and quiet, and you feel like you shouldn't even be there. You don't even care to hang up your bag and coat, you simply toss them over the arm of the couch. You've got a slight headache and you're starving, and all that you can think about is something you shouldn't be thinking about.

Your phone vibrated as you headed into the kitchen.

Aemond.

"Thanks again, I hope you made it home safe."

You found your thumbs typing a reply before you could even think if it was a good idea or not, "Anytime! I just walked through the door. We should have definitely gotten pizza, but I guess leftover lasagna will work."

Not even bothering to heat up your leftovers, you make your way back into the living room with a Tupperware of lasagna from last night and a fork. You click on the television, catching up on the news before flipping it over to one of your favorite shows.

"You've beaten me, I've got cereal."

You laughed and typed, "That kind of suits you."

Over the next two hours you had squeezed in three new episodes of your show and discussed everything from food, to movies, to philosophy with Aemond. He'd leave you the occasional voice note when he didn't feel like typing a reply, and you'd try not to think about how good his voice sounded at this ungodly hour. You'd try not to think of him sitting back, half-lidded on the couch, in a very comfortable sweater and a pair of joggers with a smile on his face because he was texting you.

It was almost 3:00 AM when you finally got a text from Aegon.

"Don't feel like you need to wait up for me. I love you."

Tagged: @tssf-imagines @gothicwidowsworld @itsabby15 @possiblyafangirl @namelesslosers@toodlesxcuddles @hiraethrhapsody @heavenly1927 @chainsawsangel @hanula18

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thelunarsystemwrites · 1 month

Text

Beauty might be simple.

Dust had seen... a lot, of alternative universes. There were ones where his kind starved, where monsters had wings or fishy tails. He's seen ones where roles seemed to be reversed, or interchanged.

But... out of everything, he never considered one where...

Bunnies?

Dust was staring at a field of flowers, where—If he was guessing somewhat correctly. These... bunnies, were... fighting?

On one side, had these extra round creatures that had similarities to the Stars. While the other ones held closer to the bad Sanses, such as himself...

Man, they sucked at fighting.

The... Ink, one? Was flipped over on his back, his tiny little stubby legs kicked effortlessly. The one that looked like Killer paused mid battle to start cleaning his paws. The Swap one was... either pushing, or nuzzling one that looked like Horror. And, these things were small. The size of kitten at best. Plus... they were so round? Why were they so round?

Either way, Dust scoffed. Apparently these things could talk, too, or atleast one of them—as the goofy Nightmare one was screeching.

"N-No, you fools! Get back into battle!" He yelled, his voice pip squeak. While the Dream one was trying to flip over Ink, failing miserably and flipping over himself. He made tiny distressed yips, before getting distracted by a butterfly, flipping on his feet again and following it while hopping.

Dust sighed, coming closer. He just needed to find wherever the fuck Killer went, his Killer. And they could go home.

The Nightmare one looked at him, and hissed. Instead of tendrils, it just had a lot of floppy ears. "A mortal! Retreat you buffoons!" He demanded, teleporting away before Dust could get a word out.

He groaned. "Killer!" He called out again, hoping he hadn't run off too far.

As he approached, the bunnies all started looking at him. Their little chattering went down, as they began to hop over to him, quite literally bouncing.

"...ugh." Was all he managed out, these things.. they were nuzzling him? Being oddly affectionate.

One, the Killer one, started nibbling on his shoe, causing him to try and kick it away. "Stop that..." He murmured, the bunny just bounced like a ball...

Weird.

Russeling came behind him, and he snapped over with a sharpened bone ready to defend himself—

Boop.

Dust was put face to face with Killer, who held a bunny that looked like... him.

"...You shouldn't sneak up on me." He lowered his weapon, as Killer chuckled a bit.

"Dust! Look, it's you!" He said in a teasing manner, shoving them into his arms.

"H-Hey!" Dust tried to drop it, but his arms tensed for a second...

It was just, so soft... like a marshmallow.

Killer giggled, before gasping, "THERE'S MINE!" He scooped up the bunny that looked like him, squshing it on his face.

"We're not keeping them." Dust declared as he finally set the Dust one down.

"Oh c'mon! Wouldn't be the first time we kidnapped something from an AU!~" Killer was now trying to hold Dust, and Horror bunny as well.

"No." Dust, the actual one, crossed his arms and gave a stern look.

Killer pouted, metaphorically jiggling them in his arms as he opened his jacket to stick them in.

"...Don't." Dust warned, as Killer cheered when he got them into it, zipping it up, their three little faces stuck out in front of his face.

"Yup, doing it."

Dust groaned. "...fine." He stuck his hands hands his pocket, looking away, down towards the star ones. The ink one was still stuck on his back, but fell asleep cuddling up to the Swap and Dream one...

It was almost cute.

He sighed. "Let's just get back... I swear if one of those things poop in the castle..." He muttered as he helped Killer pushed the bunnies to be more hidden.

"Heh, got it!"

And with that, they teleported home.

(Inspired by @ant1quarian!)

#biblically inaccurate bunny #dust sans #killer sans #Biblically inaccurate bunny Dust #BIBs #There's just a lot of bunnies #Bunny #Bunnies #Utmv #Aus #sans aus #undertale aus #fiction writing #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #writing #Fic #ficlet

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ohbo-ohno · 6 months

Note

a place that feels eerily familiar to you, like you knew it in a dream + price !! 🫶

congrats on so many sillies following you!!!

1k game here

this one was kinda hard to think of something for but i hope you like it! also thank you ily <3 i love my sillies

2.2k of john price x single mom reader. this is kinda labyrinth inspired, except i've never see labyrinth so we're going on vibes alone. no smut! this is another one with very little of the character requested, but im gonna get better about not doing that i promise <3

You're gobsmacked as you stare at the scene in front of you.

The walls are painted almost aggressively bright, with rainbows crisscrossing over each other in every direction, random bursts of white you think are meant to be clouds. The colors make you squint a little, you didn't even know paint could be that bright.

It's almost painful to look at. It's also... familiar. You're not sure why, but it is.

You shake off the odd sense of déjà vu, refocusing on your goal.

"Alice?" You call out again, cupping your hands around your mouth and shouting as loudly as you can. "Alice, baby, where are you? Can you hear me?"

Nothing.

It's hard not to fall to your knees and just give up. The only thing keeping you standing is the memory of your sweet baby girl in that man's arms. Her little cherubic face tucked into his neck, tiny body dwarfed by his massive form...

You force a full breath into your lungs, then another, then another. You won't be able to help Alice if you can't keep your head.

"Alright, think," you whisper to yourself, taking another moment to scan the room. "If I were a piece of shit baby-stealer, where would I keep a perfect angel?"

Nothing responds.

The room is definitely meant for a child, but scaled up to your size. The door you'd come in through has disappeared, leaving you stuck in this weird rainbow nightmare.

There's a bed against one wall - not really a bed so much as a stack of no less than six mattress one on top of the other, all with the same purple bedsheets. They nearly reach the ceiling, and on the very top your sure you can see several stuffed animals.

There are bookshelves against one wall, floating shelves styled after unicorns where the books rest along their backs and the unicorns themselves stick out from the wall. It's horrendously impractical - all you can think about is how much dusting they would need, how dangerous they could be if they fell on top of someone.

The floor is a nice hardwood with a large plush rug in the center, stylized to look like a white cat curled up in a little ball.

The room is spotless. Nothing is out of place, there's not a spec of dust anywhere to be seen, and nothing is stained. You wish your own daughter's room was this clean, but three year old's are a very messy species.

This room is clearly meant for a kid, but you can tell it's never been used. No child could keep a white rug so clean.

You sit on the floor in front of the purple bed and try to collect your thoughts, eying the room around you.

The man - John Price, he'd said around a cigar - had been clear about your task. Find your way out of the labyrinth in twenty-four hours, and you'll be reunited with your baby.

Of course the jackass had neglected to mention it's a magical labyrinth. Of course he hadn't told you that the maze would literally reconstruct itself right in front of your eyes.

This room had appeared practically out of thin air too, which is why you suspect that no one's ever been here but you. The whole place has an air of cleanliness that leaves your skin crawling.

The walls though... there's something so familiar about them.

It hits you a few moments later.

You'd had a coloring book as a little girl that was rainbow themed - each page featured a rainbow in a different setting, or a different shape, or an animal with rainbow patterns, things of that nature. Your favorite page had been the one without any design but rainbows, arches crisscrossing over each other in every direction. You spent hours painstakingly coloring it properly, despite the fact that it was nearly impossible to tell where the top of the rainbow was in certain places.

You'd begged your mother to paint your room like that, promised her that you'd help, that you'd never complain about your chores again, all typical little kid stuff. Your mother had refused, and you'd forgotten all about it by breakfast the next day.

That pattern from the coloring book is the same one decorating the walls, complete with the incorrect colors in certain places. That's where you remember it from.

And... and that bed. Mattress stacked on top of one another, purple bedsheets. It's just like an old copy of The Princess and the Pea your father brought home one day. You had been so entranced with the idea of a bed so tall that you'd never even cared about the end of the story. You vividly remember begging for a tall bed like the princess had, and you'd gotten it - you slept in a loft bed for most of your teen years.

It's clear from there what's going on. The unicorn shelves are plucked from your memory too, originating from a years long obsession with the mythical creatures. The rug, now that you think about it, matches one your kindergarten teacher had. The whole room is filled with things that you thought would be great in a bedroom as a little girl.

So.... how do you get out?

There's no door, no windows, no attic, nothing. Just a sealed rainbow box.

You skim your memory as quickly as possible, trying to imagine any sort of escape route you might've wanted. When you were little, you'd gone through a phase of wanting to live in a tower like Rapunzel, but that had a window. You also tried to run away once, becoming very enamored with the idea of living in a tent. You'd wanted to live in a treehouse for a bit, and that....

Oh. That's it.

You'd wanted to live in a treehouse, and your father jokes that you would roll right out of the hatch when you were asleep. You'd proudly said nuh-uh and told him how you'd drag the mattress over the hatch every night.

You glance over your shoulders at the six mattress stacked on top of each other and sigh.

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

It takes a while, but you finally manage to shove the last mattress away from it's spot.

Not only is there a trapdoor beneath it, there's one singular pea.

You'd laugh if you were any less exhausted.

You leave the rainbow room all but destroyed - the stuffed animals had gone flying and knocked off the books, and the floor is almost completely covered by mattress - but you're far too excited about your small win to worry about cleaning up.

You climb down the ladder in a tiny, enclosed space, breathing slowly to keep yourself from hyperventilating. It's almost pitch-black and you can't fight off the image of the walls shifting around you, deciding you're not supposed to be here and.....

You breathe a sigh of relief when your feet hit the floor.

Your first instinct is to call out for your daughter again, hope that she hears and cries out for you, but this room - dark and undecorated - is dead silent. The kind of silent that feels wrong to break. So you inch forward towards the only door you can make out along the wall.

Your hand shakes as you push it open, tense as you reveal....

A nursery.

A nursery with your baby in it, your little girl all curled up in a crib that she's a bit too old for. She's wearing something different than what you had her in, but she's real and she's safe.

You step froward on instinct, standing at the side of the crib. Just as you're reaching in to grab her and run, a voice speaks up from behind you.

"What are you doing?"

You jolt, spinning around and pressing your back in front of where your baby sleeps.

It's the man again. He can barely fit through the doorway (literally ducks) and he's broad enough to nearly block it. He's almost cartoonishly large, with tree trunk thighs and arms, a soft padding around his body that makes him look both terrifying and nice to hug.

His beard twitches as he frowns at you, thick eyebrows dipping low over his eyes.

"You're not supposed to be here."

You shake your head a little, getting your racing heart under control. "You said if I could find Alice in twenty-four hours I could go home."

He shakes his head slowly, stepping further into the room. The door disappears behind him. "No, I said find your way out of the labyrinth and you could keep her."

Against your own will, you feel tears start to sting in your eyes. "But..."

"How did you get here?" He asks again, shifting back a bit. His face softens just slightly, but that isn't saying much.

"I found a door," you say. "Under the mattresses."

He hums. "You remembered, then."

Now it's your turn to look confused. "Of course I did. It was my dream as a child."

His head tilts to the side as he takes a few steps forward. "You would be shocked how many parents have forgotten their own dreams. It's pathetic," he spits.

You try to push a little further back as he comes within reaching distance, but you have nowhere else to go.

"Pathetic?"

"Yes. How are you supposed to fulfil your child's dreams if you can't remember your own?"

"But... but not all dreams are meant to come true."

He scowls at you, leaning a little further forward. "Really? You don't remember how devastated you were when you didn't get that treehouse? Or the rainbow walls? You cried for hours, I saw it in your memories. Why would you want to put your daughter through that?"

That's... invasive, but you try to move past it. "But my dreams weren't always good for me. I couldn't sleep in the treehouse, what if something went wrong? There could've been a storm, or someone in the woods, or I could've gotten too scared to go inside - any number of things. And I would've been bored of the walls by the weekend, of course my mother didn't spend days painting them just for me to be over it before I even said thank you."

He hums a bit, bringing a hand up to stroke his chin. "You would deny your daughter's dreams because you don't want to create them, then?"

You scowl at that, holding yourself back from poking a finger into his chest. "Are you calling me lazy? How dare you! You know, I work two jobs to take care of that little girl all by myself since her daddy's a deadbeat, I work myself to the bone making sure she can eat, and you call me lazy for not painting the walls the colors she wants?"

He latches onto the wrong part of the sentence. "Her father's not in the picture?"

You glare at him. "That's what you got from that?"

He seems to be stuck in deep contemplation, taking another step forward so your chests nearly brush and you're forced to stare up at him.

"So, it's not for a lack of love, then?"

"What? Of course not. If I could, I'd give Alice everything she could ever want and more. But that's not how the real world works."

"It's how the labyrinth works."

"Excuse me?"

He gestures broadly to the nursery. "The labyrinth is kind to her inhabitants. She gives them everything they desire, because it's easy for her."

You've never been more confused in your life. "Okay? Good for her, then."

You get the feeling he's reached a conclusion that you can't even see in the distance as he nods to himself, leaning to the side a bit to glance at Alice. You fight down the urge to leap over the crib and cover her body with yours.

"Then you will stay here."

That jerks you back to reality. "Wait- what?"

"You will stay in the labyrinth, where she can provide for... what did you call her? Alice? Yes, Alice. You and Alice will be taken care of here."

"But-" you splutter. "But I found her! You said I had to find her!"

He shoots you a slightly exasperated look. "No, as I said before, you had to find your way out. You didn't. And look at that, time's up." A timer appears in the air in front of him, ticking down to zero. "Now you and little Alice are mine. It's been a little empty around here recently, it won't be the worst thing to have company for a bit."

You feel heat rush to your face. "No! Let us go, you can't keep me here on a technicality!"

He smiles - a real smile, brightening up his eyes - and surprises you by cupping your cheek with one big paw.

"Oh my dear, it's my labyrinth, I can do whatever I want in it. And it's not a technicality, though I could keep you based on several of those too."

You fume as you glare up at him, hands curled into fists. "I'll find my way out. You can't keep us here."

He chuckles, patting your cheek once before stepping away. "Oh, yes, I think you'll be fun to keep around for a while, darling. Try your best to escape, if you'd like. I don't think I'll mind finding you lost a few more times."

#im gonna be real with u anon idk what happened with this one and im sorry if it sucks #also i know this doesn't feel like price im SORRY #price x reader #john price x reader #cod fanfic #call of duty fanfic #bo writes #1k celebration

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sirfrogsworth · 1 year

Text

I just wanted to highlight this beautiful artwork that my good friend, Chis a.k.a. @whosthewhatnow created for me.

This drawing was inspired by this post about my dad and his animal magnetism.

If you don't recall, I said...

"I’ve always said I don’t believe in heaven but I do believe in dog heaven.

It is my hope FrogDad gets special permission to go there and hang with Otis, MacGyver, Reggie, and Buttons."

I also mentioned this in my eulogy...

I said that we had pet newts as children. However, when I went to look up pet newts, none of them looked like what we had. In fact, I couldn't find any lizards that looked like what we had. Perhaps they were some kind of lizard that was a popular pet in the 80s but fell out of favor with pet stores.

In any case, the mystery lizards are sneaking into Doggie Heaven.

And, of course, there is my dad's famous John Deere riding mower that he used to take Otis on countless walks.

And Chris included all of the beloved doggos of my childhood.

My first was a Welsh Corgi named Buttons.

She would walk me more than I walked her...

Then we adopted a Cairn Terrier named Reggie.

Reggie was found at an illegal breeding facility and rescued. He was kept in a cage nearly all of his life and it pained him to walk on hard surfaces for several months until his paws healed. We suspect he was abused by a large male, because he was terrified of my dad when we brought him home. He would run under the bed anytime my dad entered the room. This was probably the ultimate test of my dad's dog whispering powers. He slowly and patiently worked with Reggie, devising all kinds of creative trust exercises. He would lay on the floor with his belly exposed and start crying and acting sad. Trying to show Reggie he was harmless and pathetic and nothing to fear. And every time Reggie got close, my dad would bribe him with cheese.

And just like every other dog we've had, my dad won Reggie over and they became best friends. They were constant cuddle buddies.

No other large male could ever get close to Reggie. My dad ended up being the only one he would ever trust.

We felt Reggie could use a companion to help cure his trauma and depression and maybe help him socialize a little better.

So... we got a puppy!

My first ever experience with a puppy. He was a West Highland White Terrier--commonly referred to as a "Westie."

We wanted a name that paid respect to his Scottish heritage and we loved this popular show on the boob tube in which a man fixed things with chewing gum and a paperclip.

So I suggested we name him after that favorite TV hero...

Angus MacGyver!

Or "Mac" for short.

MacGyver was a bit like Otis 1.0. He was a tiny ball of energy. He loved to play. He was mischievous, but always cute about it, so he rarely got in trouble. Though he was not nearly as smart as Otis. If dogs could take IQ tests, Otis would have tested as a genius. I am embarrassed to admit how often I was outwitted by a hairy loaf with legs.

But MacGyver was just a normie. Not dumb. Not a genius.

Reggie didn't know what to do with a puppy at first. But once Mac grew up a little and calmed down a lot, they did end up being proper pupper pals.

Doggo dudes.

Canine cohorts.

Scottish scalawags.

Reggie mostly just sat at a distance as MacGyver did dumb things. Mac would get into trouble and when we caught him, Reggie would just stare at us like, "I was an impartial observer. I had no part in these shenanigans."

And last, but certainly not least... I think you all remember this troublemaker.

My dad was all cuddles and play time.

But my mom and Otis had a very special relationship as well. Otis would "help" my mom with her chores. They'd go from room to room and my mom would do her cleaning and dusting and vacuuming. And Otis would disrupt all of it--to her delight. She liked to talk to him like he was an adult human. She swore he could understand her. They'd just gab and clean.

Their antics doing chores together inspired one of my favorite Corg Life comics that Chris also drew.

So, thank you to Chris for always creating such beautiful things for me.

If you need any artwork, I highly recommend hiring him. He even does watercolor paintings.

Chris Gugliotti [ Facebook | Instagram | Tumblr ]

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imaginejamesandsirius · 2 months

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Can you write about James absolutely hating valentines day because it’s a day where he has to keep watching people try to woo Sirius... little did he know, Sirius only has eyes for him <333

Sirius is laughing.

The audacity of that traitor, just laughing the laugh that’s supposed to be only for James to hear, because of something Luca—or was it Liam?—said. James knows he could’ve come up with something much better, something that would’ve made Sirius laugh even harder, then turn to him with those beautiful, glittering grey eyes and cheeks flushed from the cold and the alcohol and the joy.

But he can’t, obviously, because Liam the utter dipshit is taking over Sirius’ life. James and Sirius were supposed to restock on some of their pranking supplies that day while the rest of the student population were busy locking lips and celebrating at Puddifoot’s when the slimy git decided it would be a good idea to replace James in Sirius’ Valentine’s weekend plans. As if watching people make passes at Sirius wasn’t annoying enough already. And then stupid Sirius with his stupid face that James stupidly can’t say no to, decided to stupidly agree to a stupid date at Three Broomsticks.

James scowls harder, hoping the intensity of his glare could yank the tosser out of the seat that should’ve been his. All that happens is Luca taking Sirius’ amusement as a sign to inch closer, sliding his hand up his knee. And Sirius just smiles at him, all warm and inviting. James wants to throw up. Maybe he could even aim it at Liam and call it an accident. Even Sirius wouldn’t be nice enough to continue entertaining a bloke covered in vomit.

His train of thought is interrupted when someone bumps into him from behind. “What the bloody fuck,” comes a muffled swear with a faint Welsh accent, telling James that it’s just Moony. Belatedly, he remembers that he’s under his cloak. “What—oh, don’t tell me, Merlin and Morgana, is that you under there, James?”

James pokes his head out and grins sheepishly at an exasperated Remus and a bemused Regulus. “Hello, kind sirs, how may I help you?”

“What are you doing here? And why the hell are you hiding?”

James sniffs. “Well, I would’ve been with Sirius, but seeing as I’m so unimportant that he replaced me, I’m bored. Also, I’m not hiding, I’m just preventing this beautiful heirloom from my ancestors from collecting dust.”

Regulus snickers. “The way that thing gets used, there’s no way it would collect dust, even without you using it to spy on my brother.”

“I’m not spying!”

Remus hums, quickly looking around. “So you’re just creepily watching his date under your cloak so he doesn’t notice you?”

James sniffs. “I need to make sure my replacement meets my standards.”

“Salazar’s saggy balls, you’re transparent as fuck. You ought to be ashamed,” Regulus says, dragging them to a secluded booth. He digs his feet under James’ arse for warmth.

“I'm sure I don’t know what you mean,” James replies hotly, poking Regulus in the ribs as retaliation.

Remus raises an eyebrow. “You mean you’re not jealous?”

“That’s exactly what I mean.”

“Really?” It should be illegal how Regulus could inflect so much emotion into a tiny word. He had no right making six letters sound so disbelieving.

“I just want to spend time with my best friend, goddamnit, without a random blonde wanker hanging off of him. Why is that such a big deal?”

“Last I checked, I’m one of your best friends and you never mope around when I go on a date,” Remus remarks.

“First of all, you’re this close to getting removed from my list of best friends, and second, I like Regulus even more than I like you. There’s no need to mope because it’s Reggie. Louis or Liam or whatever is not Reg.”

“As flattering as that is, you still aren’t making any sense,” Regulus says. “If you’re not jealous, then why does it matter who he’s dating? S’not like they’re getting married.”

James, who had resumed glaring at Sirius’ table, swirls around. “You think they might get married?” he nearly screeches. “There’s no fucking way I’ll let—”

Regulus and Remus each grab an arm to pin him down. “Nobody’s getting married, bloody hell, how can you still be in denial?” Remus grumbles. “You’re even worse than Sirius.”

“I’m going to pretend like I know what that means, only because the alternative is Sirius keeping secrets and I don’t like that,” James says, yanking his arms from their grasp. “I’m calm now, you don’t need to keep holding me.”

The moment the two sit down, James dives under the table and makes a run for it. Regulus nearly gets a hold of him, but James’ Quidditch reflexes are enough to pull away.

Regulus turns to Remus, eyes wide. “Should we—”

Remus pauses, then shakes his head. “Not our responsibility to talk sense into those two. Honestly, for two students at the top of the class, they can be such idiots sometimes.”

“Sometimes?”

“Okay, maybe a little more than that,” he concedes with a laugh.

Regulus smiles. “Do you think they’ll finally confess?” he asks into the crook of Remus’ neck.

Remus kisses his dark curls. “Not counting on it.”

“Hel-lo gentlemen,” James sing-songs as he squeezes into Sirius’ side of the booth, effectively blocking Luca’s hands from moving further up. “Nice day out, innit?”

“James Potter,” Sirius’ date greets with a smile that’s strained at the edges.

“That’s me!” James says brightly. “So what’re we having today?”

“Prongs,” Sirius hisses under his breath. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Crashing your date,” James says. “Why?”

Sirius presses his eyes closed, breathes out, and then stands up. “I’m so sorry, Louis, to cut this short. If you’ll excuse us.” He pushes James out of the booth and drags him outside.

“What the hell, James?” Sirius asks, furious. He begins pacing back and forth, hands clenched at his sides. “I was enjoying my date. Why did you have to come and ruin everything?”

Something heavy falls to the pit of James’ stomach. “I’m sorry, I ruined everything?”

“Yes!” Sirius snaps. “You talk about Lily all the damn time, and now that you’re finally dating her, you decided you’d rather spend Valentine’s ruin my chances at having a nice boyfriend?”

James blinks. “I’m not—we’re not—we broke up weeks ago, Pads. And we were supposed to spend Valentine’s together. Not with Lily or anyone else.”

Sirius pauses, taken aback. “Well, just because you don’t have a date doesn’t mean I can’t. We hang out all the time, why can’t I spend Valentine’s with someone I like? What’s wrong with me dating someone?”

“I don’t mind it when you date all those random birds,” James says, voice quiet. Nothing about this conversation is going as he expected, and he’s torn between equal amounts of anger and hurt. “I just don’t like Liam.” He doesn’t bring up the fact that up until now, he had thought that Sirius had liked spending time with him, preferred it even, to the company of others. He doesn’t bring up that he would rather spend time with Sirius than anyone else because it feels clingy when Sirius clearly doesn’t seem to share the same sentiment.

“Louis,” Sirius corrects. “What, because he’s a bloke?”

James sputters. “What? No—it’s not—I don’t—Pads, you must know I don’t care about that.”

Sirius scoffs. “Then what is your problem?”

“Louis is,” James says. “I just don’t like him. I don’t want him to be dating you. I don’t want you dating him. ”

“If it’s not because he’s a guy, then what is it?”

“I don’t know,” James replies miserably. He feels off-kilter and can’t get the right words to come out. “I just don’t know.”

“So it is because he’s a bloke. There can't be any other reason why,” Sirius sneers, voice icy. James knows the Black’s ability to be cold and aloof remains in Sirius, but he never expected to be on the receiving end of it. It makes his thoughts screech to a halt. A lump forms in his throat, making it impossible to speak.

At James’ silence, Sirius laughs humorously. “Just great,” he spits out. “Of bloody course you’d be a fucking homophobe. As if the universe doesn’t hate me enough.”

James opens his mouth to correct him, to tell him that that has never been and would never be an issue, that it’s something else but he just doesn’t know what. When he looks up, though, Sirius has already stormed off, leaving behind a cloud of confusion and hurt.

“Remus told me I’d find you here,” Sirius says. He’s swaying on his heels by the door to the Room of Requirement, which currently looks like the Potters’ living room. He looks hesitant to enter but stubborn enough to not turn back. James turns to look at the dancing flames in the fireplace, knowing Sirius would see it as an invitation to come in.

“I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions too fast,” Sirius begins. “Or, well—I mean, I still would like to know why you don’t like Louis, but I didn’t mean to call you a homophobe.”

James doesn’t respond, taking some time to mull over his answer. Sirius sits cross-legged on the ground next to him, knees close enough to touch.

“Pan,” James blurts out. So much for coming up with a thoughtful response. Upon Sirius’ confused look, James clarifies, “I’m pan. Would be kinda stupid to be a homophobe, don’t you think?”

Sirius nods slowly, looking away for a moment and swallowing harshly. “Good for you. Um. That’s—that’s great. Obviously. That would be rather stupid, yeah.”

James looks at him carefully. “Erm, does that change things?”

“No!” Sirius exclaims. “Of course not! No, it’s just great. Now that we established that we’re both single and queer, I can finally take you to those Muggle pubs and hook you up with a gorgeous person of your dreams.”

James turns away, knowing Sirius’ words are futile. Now that he’d had some time to think since the disaster of the morning, it was obvious why he felt so angry at seeing Sirius on a date. The person of his dreams wasn’t some stranger at a pub, but Sirius himself. He could imagine Regulus and Remus’ gloating faces when he told them.

“That won’t help,” James says.

“Maybe not, but as I always say, a good shag here and there can make life a lot better. Even Remy agrees with me now.”

James tries but fails not to think of Sirius in dim-lit alleys with handsome men on their knees. “Remy is a horny little werewolf who gets his back blown out by Reggie on the regular. Obviously now he thinks that’s the solution to everyone’s problems.”

Sirius stills. “Godric’s tits, James!” He summons a throw pillow from one of the sofas to hit James with. “I don’t want to think about what my baby brother does with his boyfriend—Merlin, gross, I need an Obliviate. Why the fuck would you mention that ?”

“You don’t seem to have a problem with them fucking when you’re asking them about it,” James teases. “You ask Regulus himself. Why is this worse?”

Sirius’ pale skin pinks immediately, which makes James’ stomach sink. “Because this is about Regulus and Remus,” he says, voice eerily steady. “When I ask, it’s just about Remus.”

“Oh,” James murmurs. “Oh, hell, I shouldn’t have brought that up. I know you said you’re over Moons, but—"

“Wait, no,” Sirius interrupts. He pushes himself onto his knees in front of James. “That’s not what I meant at all.”

“Sure,” James says, standing up quickly. He doesn’t believe Sirius, of course, having caught him looking longingly at Remus one too many times whenever they hang out. There’s a tight feeling in his chest that’s not going away, this horrible jealous thing. He wants to hit Sirius and grab him and kiss him, and he wants to punch Remus too for good measure. He likes Remus, he loves him even, but fuck if it wouldn’t be nice if Sirius stopped wanting everyone but James for once.

“He’s probably right,” James says after a while, Sirius still on the ground. The firelight dances off of Sirius’ handsome features, illuminating the slope of his nose and the downturn of his lips.

“Obviously,” Sirius says after a beat, fixing him with a calculating look. He’s still blushing, but whether that’s from the heat or the memory of Remus, James isn’t sure. It makes James burn something fierce inside.

“Sorry,” James says again, once he’s determined that it’s most likely because of Remus. “I know it must be hard, especially with your brother in the picture—”

“Fuck’s sake, Prongs, would you shut it about Moony,” Sirius says, smacking James’ thigh with the pillow again before grabbing his hands where they lay uselessly by his side. “I’m not into Remus anymore. That was years ago, and anyway, I’d never do that to Reg. Do you ever even listen to me?”

James shrugs, looking anywhere but at Sirius on his knees between his thighs in front of him. “You’re the one who still thought I was dating Lily.”

“I know you broke up, but I thought you’d be back together by now,” Sirius admits. “It’s just—you and Lily, I dunno, just work. It always gave me hope, I think, to see how you two came to be friends. Like maybe I’ll also find someone I love who loves me that much someday.”

James wants to throttle him. Wants to yell at him that he already has someone who loves him, someone who knows him better than anyone else, someone who’s right there if only Sirius wanted him back. Instead, he blurts out, “What Lily and I have isn’t like you and me.” Realizing how that sounded, he quickly adds, “Or you and Remus.”

Sirius groans, letting his head fall onto James’ hip. James’ knees almost buckle at the warm breath on his legs. “You seem awfully insistent that I still fancy Remus when you’re the one who doesn’t like Evans anymore despite being so hung up about her for years. You could just, I dunno, ask me like a normal person.”

James jerks back, hating himself for the hurt expression flitting across Sirius’ face at the motion. Sirius blinks up at him for a moment, maintaining eye contact as he tilts his head curiously to study him. Then, seemingly after finding what he’s looking for, he leans forward to follow James’ motion. There’s a determined quirk at the corner of his mouth, but the tenseness in the set of his shoulders betrayed his nerves.

“Wh—what do you mean?” James manages to ask, voice weak. Sirius rolls his eyes and smiles softly as he reaches out to curl a hand just above James’ knee.

“Jamie,” he says softly. “Jamie, Jamie, Jamie. You think too much, do you know?” His eyes are lit golden-bright, and James wants to kiss him. Then Sirius’ other hand finds the pillow he had hit James with before and places it under his knees.

“What are you doing?” James breathes out. Sirius only shakes his head, pulling James closer and brushing his knuckles just above James’ waistband. He hitches up his shirt to expose a sliver of skin, then presses his lips just under James’ navel.

“Fuck,” James gasps. He realises belatedly that his hands had come up to tangle in Sirius’ hair, gripping him in place.

“You could’ve just asked me,” Sirius repeats, tongue slipping between his lips to wet them. James shudders. “Instead of using your cloak to spy on my date and be jealous and miserable all day.” His tongue darts out again, sliding hot and wet and perfect up the dark smattering of hair that leads down beneath James’ boxers.

“How—oh—how do you know?” James asks, mind a mess of scrambled thoughts as his world narrows down to Sirius and his slick tongue and clever fingers working his boxers down. He’s sure he’s hallucinating because the Sirius he knows likes men Remus and Louis, blokes who take up less space in a room, who are quieter and more thoughtful and don’t resort to petty things like sabotaging their best friend’s dates because they’re in love with said best friend. Sirius doesn’t like guys like him, who are selfish and hopeless and—

“Stop. Thinking.” Sirius emphasizes each word with a harsh swipe up his cock with his tongue. James whines, high-pitched and demanding, and Sirius smiles up at him.

“You look so pretty like this, Prongs,” he whispers between sucks. James swallows.

“Oh,” he gasps. “But you’re—oh, yes, fuck, you’re a natural at this—but you’re in love with—with Remus?” His words end up more of a question as Sirius tongues his slit, but Sirius gets the message and pulls away slightly, glowering.

“For the love of Merlin and Morgana and all that is holy, would you shut up about Remus,” he tells him forcefully. James nods, unthinking, laser-focused on the line of spit between Sirius’ reddened lips and his dick. Sirius notices and his features soften, an indulgent smile on his face, and squeezes James’ fingers at his sides.

“In case this doesn’t clarify things, James Fleamont Potter,” he says quietly. “James. Jamie. Prongs. My gorgeous, idiot best mate, my partner-in-crime. What the hell makes you think that there’s ever been anyone but you?”

James stiffens and pulls away. Sirius lets him take his time to gather his bearings. “Don’t joke about this, fuck, Si, if you’re joking—”

He shakes his head. “No. No, Prongs, this is it. I—I love you, okay?”

“For how long?” James rasps. His mind is whirling.

“Does it matter?” At James’ insistent look, Sirius sighs and looks away. “Fourth year, I think, is when I knew for certain. But it started even before that.”

“You’ve loved me for this long?” James breathes. “Holy shit, Si.”

Sirius turns away, cheeks reddened. “Does it matter?”

James sits on the ground in front of him, taking his face into his hands. “Yes, it does, you bloody mutt. I thought you were in love with Remus this whole time.”

He shrugs. “That was just an excuse to hide that I was in love with you since I first knew loving blokes was a thing.”

“Damn,” James whispers. “Oh my god, Si, how did you manage? I only just realised how I feel about you today, and I already lost my composure, like, twenty times.”

Sirius laughs, and James feels something inside him settle into place. “Well, as a reward for my patience, can I continue what I started?” he asks, gesturing to James’ lap.

James smiles. “Sure,” he says. “As long as I get to return the favour. And first, I want to do this.” He takes his glasses off before turning Sirius’ face to his and tentatively pressing their lips together. He’s sure he’s never felt anything half as wonderful until Sirius wraps an arm around him and presses in close. And then he’s finally tasting Sirius, and can identify a hint of himself, and then his brain stops working.

Sirius pulls away, after what could’ve been hours or minutes. James chases after him blindly, sparking a chuckle out of Sirius. “Prongs?”

“Yeah?”

“Happy Valentine’s Day.” When James looks up at him, he’s grinning cheekily. His eyes are sparkling and his cheeks are flushed, and James idly thinks, I made him look like this. A surge of affection bubbles up in him, and he quickly places kisses all over Sirius’ face, prompting more laughter and kisses.

“I love you,” he whispers into Sirius’ back, hours later when they’re both sated and sticky and riding the high of requited love. Sirius turns to face him, hair wild and face open.

“I love you too, James,” he murmurs, and James feels giddy with the knowledge that Sirius was only in love with him, not Louis or Remus or all those other people he’d pulled in bars. That this was just for the two of them. James and Sirius, Sirius and James. As it always had been, and as it always should be.

#prongsfoot #bambibelle #james potter #sirius black #fanfic #background regulus/remus #filled #hogwarts time #no voldemort au #getting together #starlitmusings

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lively-potter · 3 months

Text

— moon struck ; jjk ; two

— moon struck ; jjk

— genre ; strangers to friends to lovers/kinda grumpy x sunshine/smut/fluff/angstwithahappyending 🥹

— warnings ; body insecurities ( mentioned ), eating disorder ( in the past but mentioned ), oc deals with a severe amount of anxiety and panic attacks, violence, smut ( later ), FLUFF, love struck jungkookie 🥹

— find me on Wattpad ; @/LivelyPotter

— word count ; 1.4k

— part one

— my masterlist

— 2024 © @LivelyPotter

river's pov; five pm "Bye, Sarah! Bye, Mrs. Goode! See you tomorrow!" I waved, voice a higher pitch due to nervousness.

Moon gurgled happily within my arms as I clutched onto her for comfort, my cheek falling onto her little head as Mrs. Goode and her daughter waved goodbye with matching wide smiles.

Shivers tumbled down my spine when it was only Moon and I inside the room.

I had hoped that by this time the rest of the parents would arrive after Jungkook did. But, as always, Jungkook would be here in time. At exactly five o'clock.

Oddly enough, the rest of the kids' guardians came early to pick them up due to a football game at Ashley Waters High.

It was at this moment I realized that today, the good lord was most definitely not on my side.

With a resigned sigh, I closed the entrance door and walked back towards the playroom to gather Moon's things and pack them back into her diaper bag her dad packed and left with her the days she was here.

Setting Moon to play on the soft carpet with some soft toys, I folded her stained clothes which she had dirtied when playing with her food earlier, wrapped them up in a paper bag, and slid them into the sleek black backpack that had the moon phases on the front below the zipper.

"Gah!" The shrill that left Moon's lips had me jumping when she threw a white fluffy bunny off her lap to grasp the purple one.

I giggled to myself and crawled towards her to hand her the bunny. "Here, little Moon."

She sent a gummy smile up at me before her mind and attention were taken over by the toys in front of her.

Seeing she was now taken care of, I hummed to myself, putting her other toys and snacks inside the bag before zipping it shut.

My shoulders slumped in relief once all of Moon's items were in her bag. I always felt awkward and hesitant to go through another person's bag — permission given or not. It was still awkward for me.

I dusted off my pants and pulled my long hair back into a high ponytail, feeling tiredness creep into my joints. Babysitting energetic kids while surviving on five hours of sleep would exhaust a girl.

Stifling a yawn, I laid on my tummy in front of Moon's little feet and played with her toys for her as she laughed — clapping her teeny hands together.

"A-gan!" She demanded, cutely outstretching the purple bunny.

"Okay," I giggled, feet kicking back and forth in the air. Time passed as I pretended to make the bunnies dance.

I was so involved in making Moon happy that I failed to realize a looming dark shadow swallowing my frame — watching intensely.

That was until Moon looked over my shoulder and screamed shrilly — little tears of joy already pricking her wide doe eyes.

"You girls having fun?" I felt my heart drop out of my bottom at the sound of Jungkook's husky, orotund voice.

I felt that familiar ball lodge itself in my throat as Moon whimpered happily and scrambled up, the little ruffles of her little pink dress shifting around her tiny knees.

"Da! Da!" She shrieked happily, and waddled past my tensed, frozen limbs to cling onto Jungkook's pants.

I forced back a whimper of my own, this one of fear, and slowly turned my eyes to stare at his black Balenciaga combat boots.

Moon tugged at his dark jeans and pouted, sniffles coming from her throat, "Up! Da, Up!" She demanded in her cute voice, wanting to be picked up and cuddled.

I felt his stare pierce through me, and I shivered and shied away. It was like I was naked — and he could see entirely through me.

I didn't like that.

It was an odd, uncomfortable feeling. And I did not like odd and uncomfortable things.

Jungkook's hands came down and grasped Moon's little waist and hoisted her up to cuddle against his robust, toned chest.

I avoided looking in his direction as he mumbled sweetly to Moon — greeting her happily after being away from her the whole day.

I scurried over towards the cubbies and withdrew Moon's diaper bag — knowing he was looking at me.

Panic bubbled up inside me as he drew closer, tugging at the white tank top and white button-down shirt he wore overtop.

I quickly took a glance down at his black studded belt and felt my breath catch.

In the blink of an eye, he was standing right in front of me, Moon happily and quietly resting in his huge tattooed arms.

Keep calm, River. Please don't make a fool of yourself.

For dingleberries sake!

"Thank you for watching over her for me," he spoke softly as if he was afraid to say the wrong thing. "She always has fun here." He chuckled, eliciting a gurgled laugh to leave Moon.

It only made my head sink lower.

He made me feel like a child again. Small, weak, and so submissive.

"No problem!" I squealed dumbly, fumbling with my arms as I wrapped them around myself and met his eyes shyly.

"I...I love spending time with her." I admitted in a low whisper, feeling a tiny ounce of proudness rushing through my veins.

His boba-like eyes gleamed happily when they met mine and his breath seemed to catch in his throat as he willed the eye contact to continue.

The soles of his boots squeaked on the linoleum floor as he shifted his feet.

The sound made my eyes fall to the floor and I jerkily held out the handle of Moon's bag.

I opened my mouth, but no words would leave me. My limbs seemed frozen, and I couldn't move.

His stare stuck me in place and didn't allow movement.

"Thanks," he rumbled and reached forward to grab the bag.

His huge warm tattooed hand brushed against my tiny one, making me gasp and jump back from the contact of his skin sizzling against mine.

My heart rate amped up and raced inside my chest.

Dingleberries! What was that?

I peeked up in time to see Jungkook's jaw rock back and forth as he opened his mouth, before snapping it shut. He licked at the silver hoops through his bottom lip, naturally drawing my eyes to his lips.

I blushed at the otherworldly handsome man in front of me and inched back.

He was scary, but dingleberries — he looked so perfect. Like he jumped out of my fantasies.

"...I better get going." Jungkook broke the silence and stared down at my frame which he dwarfed with his huge muscular build.

Moon had already fallen asleep during our awkward, yet intense encounter.

"Yeah," I whispered back, wrapping my arms around my stomach.

Jungkook let out a grin.

His boba doe eyes watched me and observed my figure before he stepped away and slowly left the room, not forgetting to look over his shoulder every few seconds to make sure I was there.

Where else could I go?

I was still frozen, rooted, and unable to move until he was well away from the daycare center.

***

third pov ; jeon jungkook ; six thirty pm

Jungkook couldn't help the boyish smile that was on his face as he and Moon watched yet another episode of Paw Petrol before Moon's bedtime.

All that was on his mind, at this moment, was River.

She had spoken to him!

She looked like she could have fainted before him, but he talked to her!

Jungkook felt his toes curl in excitement at the future possibilities. He knew she was intimidated by him, most people were, but he hoped in time, that she would look past his domineering aura — apart from the bedroom, that is — until he could show her that he was nothing to be afraid of.

His aunt and mother always told him that he was just a big ass teddy bear on the inside.

His hand tingles at the memory of him purposely brushing his skin against her little tiny hand — and fuck, her skin was so silky soft.

Jungkook nearly growled at the remembrance of her jasmine and laven scent wafting off her little womanly body.

Moon tugged at his shirt, dragging him from his thoughts to show him her favorite part of her show.

"I see, baby." He assured her beautifully adorable daughter, placing a kiss on her little head as she splayed out on his chest.

As he rocked Moon to sleep, Jungkook could only wonder what tomorrow would bring.

Would he finally get to talk to her again?

Or was it just a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity? author's note ; ✨ I hope you enjoyed the chapter! I love jungkook, river, and moon sm 💜✨

#wattpad #bts fanfic #dilf jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook x oc #moonstruck #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook au #jungkook smut #bts army #jungkook fanfic #moon #jungkook #jeon jungguk #bts jungguk #wattpad fanfiction

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iiiknowplaces · 3 months

Text

peeta mellark x reader.

summary- after losing your beloved sister to the war, you had lost yourself. peeta still loved you, though you had withered away.

warnings- fem!reader, angst, happy ending, depression

it had been over a month since he had last checked up on you. the last time he had tried, you told him to stay away and give you space. so, he did. it was very difficult, only getting tiny insights on your well-being from greasy sae, the lovely old woman who would bring you soup every week. he had finally decided it was time he take things into his own hands. he hadn't seen you once during the month, not even a peek of light from your shut blinds. he gripped the door handle to your small house in victor's village, preparing himself for whatever he may see. finally, he pushed the door open, and with a creak of the hinges, came the revelation he was looking for. he looked around, his eyes darting around the small place. as soon as he took one step in, he felt the gloominess looming over the house seep into his chest, leaving a heavy feel. he glanced around once more, not seeing you at first, before his eyes landed on the couch in the corner, facing a television. and there you were, his beautiful girl. curled up in a ball, head on your knees. your hair was unkempt, you looked thin and pale, and your once bright and shining eyes were dull and cold. you were a shell of the girl he once knew. you looked dead. but unfortunately for you, you weren't. you wished you had gone instead of her, but you didn't. so now you rot alone. his heart shattered into a million little pieces at the sight of you. the girl he loved and cared for so much... gone. you didn't move a muscle at his entrance, not even a bat of the eye, and his heart stopped for a moment. you were slowly dying, and he had a feeling he was too late. he took a few steps closer, his caring brown eyes filling with tears. he blinked them back, before muttering your name quietly. your eyes darted to him, before looking back straight ahead. at least you were alive, but it pained him to get no response. he slowly sat down next to you, analyzing the room. he noticed that even though you were facing it, the television was coated with dust, a sign of no use. as he looked around more, he saw that everything was covered in dust. he looked over to you, looking at your appearance. he noticed you were wearing baggy clothes, sweats and an old jacket, which also looked dulled. he decided he needed to say something, anything. "hi, sweetheart." he said quietly, getting no acknowledgment except a slight flinch. he tried a different route, desperately wanting a response. "how are you feeling?" he asked with a caring look to his eyes. his question was quickly pushed aside though, as you muttered a "you came back?". you hadn't thought he would actually return after you blew up on him, you thought you would be alone forever. your voice was hoarse from no use, which he noticed. the question broke his heart even further, he had never felt worse. "of course i did." he replied. you turned your head slightly, looking over at him, with the tiniest glint of hope in your eyes, which didn't go unnoticed. he smiled at you, brushing hair out of your face and kissing your cold forehead softly. he wouldn't stop until you were better. he would go to the ends of earth for you, and that's exactly what he did. within a year, you were back up and running, not completely your old self, but definitely healthier. you had your days, but he was always there to help. you would never be alone again.

#peeta mellark x reader #peeta mellark #peeta mellark angst #peeta mellark fluff #peeta mellark x fem!reader

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anne-chloe · 5 months

Text

Underground | II |

Jareth/Goblin King x F! Reader

Summary : You begin your journey into the Labyrinth, and you almost lose your footing.

"How do I get in?"

You grumbled to yourself, pacing up and down the wall that prevented you from entering the labyrinth. You'd been searching for a way in for at least 15 minutes, and by now you were despairing in frustration. How were you supposed to complete the labyrinth and save Harry if you couldn't even get in?

Is this what the Goblin King meant by his labyrinth being complicated?

You stopped, huffing loudly while setting your hands firmly to your hips. You stared at the wall ahead, practically glaring. There must be an entrance that you just weren't seeing. Maybe it blended in with the wall, it was camouflaged and that's why you couldn't find it so easily. It would make sense, seeing as how it guarded the castle.

You were never very good at puzzles, or mazes actually. You were kidding yourself when you'd said you had completed mazes before. You'd never gone through a maze by yourself, and there were always workers scattered throughout to offer help to those that needed it.

You highly doubted that there would be guides within the labyrinth offering support.

A noise caught your attention. You lowered your hands and turned to the side, now staring at a creature from behind. A fairy, it looked like; a small thing, giggling and fluttering around in a small patch of flowers that was dusted with glitter. It seemed as though everything had a sparkle to it. It made the labyrinth seem less dangerous than it obviously was. A false sense of security.

"Excuse me?" You timidly asked, now approaching the fairy with exceeding caution, afraid that you'd frighten it off. It stopped messing with the flowers and turned to look at you, now falling quiet with curiosity. You crouched down and held out your hand, watching in childish delight as it perched itself into your palm. "Hi," you whispered happily, "I'm looking for the entrance to the labyrinth. Do you happen to know the way in?"

The fairy nodded eagerly, and pointed to the spot directly where you had been originally looking. You stood and turned, gasping in surprise as a large, gated door appeared where the wall used to be. You moved towards it as they slowly opened with a creak, and a ball of fog rolled out.

You looked down at the fairy and beamed. "Thank you for your help." You watched as the fairy hovered above your hand, a squeak leaving her mouth as her tiny hand waved, reflecting your delight. Then, she fluttered away, returning back to the flowers that you had found her in.

You stared into the foggy entrance, nose crinkling at the lack of vision. You began walking in, immediately spotting that the path either led left or right. You hummed in thought, wondering which way would be best to take. And staring down them, you couldn't see a visible turn or curve in either direction, leaving you with little ways to weigh out the pros and cons. Instead, you covered your eyes and decided to spin in a circle, and whichever way you stopped would be the way you'd go.

To the right.

You shrugged, feeling indifferent and set off walking. The fog began to fade out, and the sun beamed down from the sky. You stepped over roots embedded into the ground, and ducked under twigs that poked out from the walls. You kept your hand trailing on the wall, your eyes fixated ahead.

Another 15 minutes passed with you walking utterly straight. And soon you started to frown deeply at the lack of turnings and twists. There weren't any dead ends, and the pathway just seemed to continue onwards no matter what. You paused in the middle of the labyrinth, taking a moment to scan your surroundings in hopes that you'd missed any clues or signs. But no, there was nothing but glitter sparkling under the sunshine, and twigs that stuck out and often caught your hair.

"This is..." hard. You didn't want to admit it out loud, for the fear that the Goblin King would hear you. You didn't want to admit defeat so early on, not when Harry was depending on you.

God, you felt incredibly guilty for wishing him away. It had simply been a heat of the moment phrase; you didn't realise the consequences behind it. If you'd have known about its power, you would never have spoken those words. But, a part of you whispered cruelly that he deserved it; he had cheated, after all, and he even admitted that he'd known this woman for months before being caught. Your bottom lip quivered and your eyes threatened to produce tears again; how long would he have continued if you hadn't have caught him?

You hoped the goblins were poking fun at him for only wearing a bedsheet and nothing more. You hoped they'd tear it away from him and run wild around the castle, taunting him for his nakedness. You hoped he was sulking, reflecting back on everything he had done to cause you pain; you hoped he was wishing he'd never met you.

You shook your head, ridding yourself of those thoughts. You needed to focus on solving the labyrinth. If you continued to think about Harry and everything that had happened, you wouldn't make any progress. You could think about him later when you were in a better place to do so.

"'Allo."

You tensed at the voice. Glancing around, you felt your skin crawl at seeing nobody there. You blinked, weirded out.

"Down here!"

You tilted your head down, eyes scanning the floor, and finally, the wall. It was a worm. Wearing a scarf and a hat. You stared in surprise, having expected something else other than a worm. Perhaps a bird of sorts that could speak, or maybe another fairy as kind as the one you met at the entrance.

"Oh..." you muttered, lowering yourself again so you could speak with the worm a little better. It was strange, talking to creatures like this. You pushed aside the oddness of it all, and tried to remain focused on asking the correct questions. "I don't suppose you know the way through this labyrinth?"

The worm shook its head. You sighed in disappointment, having expected such an answer but feeling frustration nonetheless. "Nah, I'm just a worm. Would you like to meet the missus?"

You blinked at the worm, holding back a laugh. It had never crossed your mind before that worms might have relationships too, albeit not as complicated as a humans would be. "Uh, no thank you," you replied, smiling at the idea of making friends with a worm and its partner. "I'm on a bit of a tight schedule. Is there any particular reason as to why there's no turnings?"

The worm tilted its head. "No turnings?" It repeated, astounded by this information. "No, you're mistaken. There's a turning right in front of us!"

Alarmed, you looked over your shoulder and stared at the wall. You couldn't see an entrance anywhere. It was just a normal wall. You looked back at the worm, feeling slightly betrayed that it would shatter your hopes like that. "There isn't," you corrected, "it's just a wall."

"You're not looking close enough!" The worm insisted, nodding its head towards the wall.

You furrowed your brows together and stood up. Carefully, you held your hands out in front of you and took steady steps forwards. As you neared the wall, you expected your palms to come into contact with the cool stone, but instead you walked beyond it. You gasped in delight, pleased that the worm hadn't been messing with you and was correct.

"Oh, thank you!" You beamed brightly. Again, you were left with the choice of going left or right. You eyed both pathways in deep consideration. Well, hadn't you gone right the first time? You resolved yourself to go left, just to switch up the directions you were taking.

"Don't go that way!"

You stepped back, startled by the worms warning. "What... why?" You asked, now wearily looking down the path you had almost taken. Were there horrible creatures lurking down there? Traps and tricks that would only hinder your journey? If so, you were thankful that the worm had stopped you from advancing any further.

The worm shook its head. "Never go that way." Is all it said, and the grim look on its face only confirmed your suspicions. Dangerous creatures. The Goblin King had warned you that his labyrinth was dangerous and complicated, and so far he hadn't lied to you, and neither had this worm.

Grateful for the correction, you thanked the worm again and bid your goodbyes.

You continued onwards, pleased that you were starting to finally make some decent progress in the labyrinth. You were beginning to worry that you weren't smart enough to solve it; perhaps you weren't smart enough, considering you had acquired the help of a fairy and a worm to guide you. Nevertheless, didn't that make you smart for asking? Surely that made you resilient in your own way.

You hummed a gentle tune as you walked on, now spotting the gaps in the wall that the worm had pointed out. You were met with a few dead ends, and a few twists that confused your whereabouts, but you soon found yourself out of the beginnings and in the very middle. You grinned, feeling exceedingly proud.

Take that, you thought smugly. It's not that complicated once you know what to look out for.

You again found yourself in a section of the labyrinth that seemed almost dedicated to twists and turns. You walked up steps and found yourself stuck, and you'd turn back around and walk into another dead end. You tried not to let your frustration grow. You glanced in the direction of the castle, keeping it in your sights and pushing forwards, taking the paths that pointed in its direction.

And as you walked, you found your mind wander in to the popular production of Aladdin. It was sold out on every night, and you were forever grateful to have been cast as Princess Jasmine. You hummed along to the tune of Arabian Nights, finding that the song was bringing you confidence and comfort as you continued to navigate through endless dead ends and false paths.

A few words you found yourself singing aloud, your voice echoing around the silent labyrinth.

"Oh, the music that plays as you move through a maze, in the haze of your pure delight."

You stepped over a stone block that stood jagged out of the ground. You headed down some steps, your fingers mindlessly brushing against the stone walls that seemed so randomly placed, but you knew they were thought of with meticulous care.

"You are caught in a dance, you are lost in a trance, of another Arabian night—"

You froze, eyes widening slightly as you assessed your newest challenge.

A drop in the floor. You peered over the edge, your shoe catching a stone and kicking it forwards. Down the stone went, and you watched in a grimace as it continued onwards, its end not making a single sound. You glanced over, noting how the other side was too far to jump across. You ran your fingers through your hair, knowing you'd need something to assist getting you across.

You scarcely looked around, finding nothing but other stones in sight. None of them were nearly big enough to block the drop. You frowned.

It's not like you could turn back and find another direction to go. You needed to go through this part, because slightly in the distance you could see the beginnings of a healthy green hedge, meaning you were definitely on the right pathway. This was something put in place as a challenge, something to slow down your progress.

You could always run and jump and pray that you'd make it, but you shook your head at the stupid, desperate thought. You'd land yourself to certain death, or a life threatening injury. You couldn't risk hurting yourself when you needed to find Harry. And if you were stuck down there, what use would you be? None.

You thoughts flashed to the Goblin King, who would surely be monitoring you. You wondered if he was impressed with how far and fast you'd come. Was he watching intently? Did he admire your ability to march onwards without giving up?

You huffed out a short laugh. Are you stupid? Surely the Goblin King wouldn't be engrossed in whatever you were doing. He must be busy ruling over his subjects, possibly creating plans for how he'd fit Harry under his rule. He probably didn't care much about your progress at all.

You began searching the nearby area for anything that would help you across. Then, you stumbled upon a large slab of stone. You grinned and tucked your fingers underneath, using all your strength to lift it up and drag it across the floor. It scraped loudly, its weight protesting to your determination. You grunted and puffed for air, feeling your hands and shoulders ache.

You had to pause several times to take a break. You frowned down at your scuffed fingertips, noting how red and raw they were looking from gripping a stone slab like that. But you continued on with your plan, determined to have it work as a bridge of sorts.

Once you reached the drop again, you began pushing the stone slab rather than pulling. It just about touched the other side before you ran out of stone to push, meaning it would work but would possibly be unstable. You wiped the sweat from your brow and gently placed your foot on the edge, testing it before throwing your entire body weight into it.

And so you began walking across. You held out your arms for balance. You refused to look down at the drop, and you instead focused on your feet. One foot in front of the other. Carefully creeping over to the other side.

A slight noise caught your attention. You paused, risking the chance to look up. A crystal ball rolled down the stone path, heading a steady pace in your direction. You blinked curiously at the sight, wondering where it had come from and why it appeared without a single blemish.

Then, the crystal ball stopped and it made a tiny tink as it gently bumped into the stone slab you were standing on. Your chest tightened in panic, and suddenly the stone slipped off the edge. You cried out and launched yourself forwards, fingers barely grabbing the ledge and holding you securely in place. You whimpered, feet dangling as the stone slab vanished bellow, noiseless and endless as it continued to plummet, just like the stone you had kicked.

Your fingers burned with the pressure of holding you up. You cringed, desperate to pull yourself up yet lacking the strength to do so. You tried, arms shaking as it hoisted your weight, your head poking over the top. You gasped, managing to tuck your arm on top of the ledge, securing you a lot better than your fingers had.

The crystal ball remained just a few inches from the ledge. You glared at it, practically hearing the Goblin King laugh at your misfortune. How could you possibly think he wasn't watching? He must be dearly entertained by this entire situation. He must have cackled when you screamed in fright. How cruel.

Finally, you gave one last pull and managed to roll onto the ledge. You awkwardly caught your arm on a jagged stone sticking upwards, tearing the skin on your forearm. A streak of blood trickled down, and you hissed at the sudden pain. Looking on the bright side, a cut on your arm was better than plunging endlessly to your death.

After catching your breath and allowing your heart rate to settle, you reached over and snatched the crystal ball from the floor. You eyed it suspiciously in your hands, wondering if something would happen. But nothing did. It was useless. You scoffed loudly, hoping that, if the Goblin King was still watching, he'd hear your displeasure for nearly getting you killed.

You stuffed the crystal ball into your pocket and shakily stood up, now heading towards the pathway with the luscious green hedges rather than jagged stone walls.

While you hoped it would be easier to navigate, you had a trembling feeling that this wasn't the last time that the Goblin King would interfere with your journey.

#fan fiction #the labyrinth #labyrinth 1986 #Jareth #the goblin king #goblins #goblin king #labyrinth #x reader #female reader #fantasy #romance #singing #fairies #fae #faeries #adventure #Jareth x reader

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benedictscanvas · 1 year

Note

Hi!!! I hope you had a good extended break!! As a writer myself I totally get the need. 😊 I love your writing!! Can’t wait to see what inspiration takes you on your journey next

As for a request, can I suggest prompt number three on the meaningful gestures list you linked with either Eddie Munson or Benedict Bridgerton (my two current obsessions 😂🤭)

Have fun writing lovely!!!

Ames 💜

this is a gorgeously sweet ask, so i hope you enjoy some sweet benedict fluff! thank you so much for being lovely <3 | 0.6k words, gn!reader

When Benedict invited you over to his house, you were imagining an afternoon of tea and pleasant chatter with him and his mother who more than once had insisted you call her Violet. There would be longing looks passed between you in moments of quiet, perhaps, and you even dared to dream of a moment in which the two of you reached for the teapot at the same time and your hands would brush for just a moment.

You had not expected Violet to be busying herself with preparations for Daphne’s next ball of the season, nor for your reluctant stand-in chaperone to be Eloise. You certainly hadn’t expected said chaperone to put a hand on your shoulder five minutes into your visit, murmur something about a book she had to get back to before leaving the room moments later.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N, I never thought that Eloise would just-” he cut himself off before he disparaged his sister too much in your presence, “If you no longer want to spend the remainder of the day together, I’ll completely understand.”

You tilted your head at him to work out his meaning. Benedict was far from being a shy man, and the two of you had spent many a ball away from prying eyes when you found a corner to yourselves to talk. He’d also made his feelings on the unspoken rules of society quite plain from the night that you’d met, so it couldn't have been that. Taking this into account, his questioning could only be driven by his concern for your own comfort and the thought made you shiver.

“Do you want me to leave, Benedict? Only because you did promise that you’d show me your latest masterpiece and I am ever so keen to see how you’ve immortalised me in oil paint,” you said, eyes bright with gentle teasing. He hadn’t noticed the amusement in your face, if the pink tinge dusting across his cheeks was any indication.

“I’m worried I’ve given you the wrong impression,” he began tentatively, and you bit your lip to stop yourself from chuckling at his delicacy, “I’m afraid my newest work is not of your likeness, though I would, of course, be honoured to someday paint you, if you’d allow me. It is only that I do my best work when somebody sits for me, you see, and I would hate nothing more than to do your beauty an injustice by simply attempting to recreate it from memory, rather than-”

He was rambling and hardly thinking about his words and they were still so utterly complimentary. It was too much, and you didn’t want to stop yourself. You shuffled over towards him on the sofa slightly to accommodate it, then reached out two careful hands to the sides of his face and simply held him. It stopped him in his tracks.

“Benedict?” you murmured softly, thumbing tiny brushstrokes onto his freckles. He stared, jaw a little slack, in response, hands stuck at his sides, “I was teasing. You make it rather easy for me, actually.”

He let out a breathy chuckle that sounded more strained than he had intended. Finally able to move again after the brief spell you had placed upon him, one hand circled your wrist in a cautious embrace.

“And you make everything very, very difficult,” he eventually whispered in return, though you knew he was simply trying to join in the teasing.

“You’d like me to stop, then?”

You knew the answer. He knew that you knew. It was clear in the way his eyes flickered across every feature of your face, in the way they bounced away quickly when he glanced downward. In the restraint that only showed in the tick at the back of his jaw.

“No, I don’t think that would do,” he admitted, hand sliding up, up, up your wrist and flattening itself against the back of your hand when you grinned. He leaned into it, “I should think, if it would make you happy, you could continue at least a little longer.”

There were words at the back of your throat that you might have swallowed down if it weren’t for the way he was looking at you and the fact he wouldn't allow you to pull your hands from his face. You looked down at your lap and spoke them.

“I would like to be in the business of doing things that make you happy, Benedict. If you’d let me.”

Like the restraint had snapped, just for a brief second, he turned his head and pressed a featherlight kiss to your palm. It had been so light you barely felt it, but your sharp inhaled gasp echoed in the space left between you. He smiled like he had done nothing of the sort.

“Only if I am allowed, by some miracle, to make you happy every day of our lives, from today on. Does that sound favourable, my love?”

The term of endearment was enough to break your own resolve. Using the hand that wasn’t caught in his, you lightly traced his brow bone, cheek bone, jaw bone, one finger sliding along the planes of his face to keep the sunlight from bursting out of your abdomen right there. His eyes were alight and the warmth found there was worth drowning in.

“Favourable indeed, Lord Bridgerton.”

if you would like to request something, please do so here! i'd love to hear from you :)

#benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict x reader #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton imagine

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noodleblade · 5 months

Note

holiday idea~ kobd seeing snow for the first time

I wrote the majority of this within an hour of you sending this and then I forgot to edit it for a week dncfkjsfksnfksf ;---; BUT I hope you like some cute, dumbie fluff:3

Ao3 Link X

Knock Out stared out into the white abyss with piecing skepticism.

“I think it's just water, K.O.,” Breakdown muttered beside him.

“But we don’t know that,” Knock Out hissed.

Beneath the metal awning, he was safe. Cold- over the course of this flesh planet’s night cycle dark clouds dropped the temperatures to a frigid chill and unleashed this white… something -but safe. They had just wanted some shelter from the night, but now they were trapped, stuck beneath the thin metal roof for who knows how long. What if it collapsed? The white flecks looked weightless but Knock Out could see how they had piled around them, their exact weight unknowable. What if the roof fell in and they were crushed? What if the white dustings were infectious? Sickly? What if-

“Only one way to find out,” Breakdown hummed with a mild rev of his engine.

“Wait-” Knock Out protested, but it was too late. Breakdown released his brakes, rolling forward. His protective, pleasant warmth went with him and Knock Out shivered as he could only watch in fearful agony.

Breakdown’s wheels hit the white piles with a squish , flecks landing on his roof.

Breakdown froze and Knock Out felt his spark drop as his partner sat immobile, windows fogging as the cold crept up his frame.

“Breakdown?” Knock Out whispered before trying again louder, more insistent, “ Breakdown.”

A loud, rumbling laugh rolled out of his partner before Knock Out saw him shift, pulling out of his alt to stand. Breakdown spun on his pedes, arms wide as he flashed Knock Out a grin.

“It’s safe!”

Knock Out remained still beneath the safety of his tin shelter, eyeing the flecks land and melt? on Breakdown’s chassis.

“Then what is it?”

“I don’t know,” Breakdown admitted. He held his palm out watching as the little specks landed and disappeared into tiny puddles. “I think it's frozen water.”

Knock Out wasn’t too sure about that. It wouldn’t be a complete surprise. After all, they had already witnessed on multiple occasions as water dropped from the sky above, dumping across the land. The inhabitants of this planet seemed unworried about it, crafting little plastic shields to cover their helms. The shelter he was in now served as a protective measure for their automobiles, though it didn’t solve the issue of the water pooling at his tires. Nevertheless, the frozen water did not reassure Knock Out in the slightest.

“Think of all the water stains,” Knock Out winced. His finish was already in desperate need of a detailing. He didn’t need to ruin it further.

Breakdown hummed an acknowledgement but his attention was focused on a particularly large clump of the white frozen water. He reached for it, servo hissing as the heat of his frame met the icy cluster. Once his frame matched the temperature, Breakdown was able to pick up a palm sized clump. With a minimal amount of patting, he was about to mold it into a spherical ball.

“You can hold it?” Breakdown said in awe.

“Put that down!” Knock Out yelped, panic edging his words. “You don’t know if it is safe! It could seep to the protoform! You don’t know what that is-“

“I’m fine, Doc,” Breakdown’s smile was gentle as he crushed the clump in his palm and dropped what little remained solid. “It’s just water. The organics wouldn’t leave their stuff out if it was bad.”

Knock Out could see several cars blanketed in the supposed icy water. Logically, he could see Breakdown’s point, but he still couldn’t bear the idea of what it would do to his precious paint job.

“Come on, K.O.,” Breakdown tried again, coming closer to Knock Out’s feeble little shelter. “Just touch it. And-” Breakdown continued over the warning rev of Knock Out’s engine “-I’ll personally detail you when we get back to the Nemesis. The whole package: wash, buff, wax . I can even touch up your flames.”

Knock Out couldn’t say he wasn’t tempted. Just the possibility of the warmth of the Nemesis and Breakdown’s hands on him almost was enough to make him disengage his brakes. However…

“You already promised me that when we took this little road trip,” Knock Out reminded him, not without a slight, teasing purr in his voice. If he played his cards right… “You’re going to have to do better than that, Darling.”

“Spoiled brat,” Breakdown grinned back, his laughter bubbling up. “You know I’ll do whatever you want.”

The words had barely left Breakdown’s mouth before Knock Out fired off his request. If he had to suffer in this icy, wet mess for Breakdown then, “I get to detail you. For as long as I want.”

Breakdown blinked, his helm cocking to the side in contemplation. “Really?”

“Mmm,” Knock Out hummed, his engine purring along. “We can do each other. ‘Make a whole night of it. What do you say?”

It was rare Breakdown would let him, far too concerned with looking out for Knock Out. Which was a cover. Breakdown had admitted once that he felt he didn’t deserve it . Knock Out had been waiting for a chance to prove him wrong.

“If that’s what you want,” Breakdown murmured, his voice almost shy about the concept.

“You act like you don’t want my hands all over you.”

“I didn’t say that.” Breakdown turned his gaze back to Knock Out’s windshield. “Not that you’ll get to if you remain cooped up under there.”

“So we have a deal?” Knock Out asked, making sure his brake unlocked with a loud click.

“We always have a deal, Doc.”

#kobd #knock out #breakdown #tfp #transformers #anonymous #asks #my fics

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redisaid · 10 months

Text

Beneath the Blue Moon - Chapter 8

Full

Oh hi. I missed the girls. I’m back on the train of this bullshit again.

Expect a new poll for choices on chapters 9 and 10 in a few days.

7052 Words

Read it on Ao3!

When the wind bends the branch to softly touch me, When the band plays your song, I feel strong enough to keep dreaming, Even when I'm all alone, Our love goes on and on.

Sylvanas decided that there was no worse idea ever had than that of trying to host a luncheon across the span of two ships tethered to one another. And as painful as the creaking of rope and wood and canvas against one another was to her elven ears, the fact that Jaina was just a gangplank away from her, and had been this entire time, yet still would not look at her, was far worse.

Otherwise, the summit was going well. As well as could be imagined, really. Horde and Alliance alike were enjoying tea and finger sandwiches on a sunny day in the harbor of an offshore island deemed too far away from Dazar’alor to pose a threat. Both of them were digesting Sylvanas’ words with their food, her explanation of the threat that faced them all, and the price she feared the world would pay for the theft of her soul.

Her selfish dooming of Azeroth. Nothing unusual, really. Old news before it was even news.

Just as the situation was with Jaina. The only time she’d looked into her eyes in over a decade was across the throne room in Lordaeron—when Jaina had come to save the Alliance’s bid to take her city from her.

And succeeded.

She was powerful, a ball of stress that was honestly only more beautiful for it. She looked incredible in her Kul Tiran uniform, even today, sulking with a greatcoat draped over her shoulders, unbuttoned otherwise for the heat of the Zandalari sun.

Just because she wouldn’t look at Sylvanas didn’t mean Sylvanas couldn’t look at her.

And honestly, over the years, in the scant times that they’d shared space since, all she could ever do was look at her. To look at her, going on, changing, becoming something without her. In the absence of her.

Sylvanas wondered if the emptiness had gnawed at her? The lack of what once was? Their connection, bone deep, severed even as Sylvanas still walked this world. Maybe it was the years of having had time to process it properly, as Sylvanas didn’t, that had hardened Jaina to her. To this need.

It was a need. Like the living needed water and air and food and shelter. Sylvanas was dead, still, and needed none of these. But she needed Jaina. She needed her like withered elves needed mana. Like—

“Warchief, a moment of your time?”

Anduin Wrynn. A lad of annoying height that he’d only gained in the last few years, loomed over her in his ceremonial lion armor, a polite smile tugging at the corner of his beardless lips. Last she’d seen him wear that armor, it was when she’d run from him, defeated at Lordaeron, wondering after the apology that seemed to echo in Jaina’s eyes.

Still too broken to understand it, but questioning all the same.

“By all means, High King,” she said with a nod.

In all her life and thereafter, Sylvanas had never imagined she would be nodding to a king. A boy king besides that, but even so, she had thought she would remain nothing more than a General, still giving a full bow to Anestarian, hoping he’d hold on a few more centuries and spare her from doing the same to Kael’thas.

Anduin came to stand with her on the aft deck of the Banshee’s Wail, mounting the stairs with a plate of tiny sandwiches still in hand.

“I have to admit I was rather fascinated by your tales of the Shadowlands,” he told her. “And what you’d experienced there. I was hoping you might answer some questions for me, about the nature of death.”

He would be disappointed to know how little she knew. How little she cared to know. Sylvanas could tell him exactly what death was. Unfair. Broken. A thing that ground one down, bones to dust. Souls to anima. A transformation to smaller parts, in which, along the way, the whole was lost forever.

A thing that made the decay and disgust of decomposition seem kind.

But instead, she said to him, “You may ask what you wish. I will share what I know, but I would hardly call my knowledge of the Shadowlands encyclopedic.”

“You mentioned there being other realms of death, besides the place you called the Maw. I was wondering…”

Wonder away, she almost wanted to tell him. Sylvanas herself had only seen glimpses of them as the Jailer’s servants had escorted her through a tour of the unfairness of death—the great separation and unending that awaited all living things.

Beautiful Bastion, its angelic embrace a front for a great lie—consuming the souls of heroes to turn them into willing servants and ferriers of yet even more souls. Malevolent Maldraxxus, where the souls of the warlike could play at war for the rest eternity, never satisfied with an end to their violence. Repentant Revendreth, whose aesthetic honestly didn’t miss, but otherwise enslaved the souls of the evil to extract from them in exchange for the slim hope at a better fate.

There was no better fate. Not even in Ardenweald, among the eternal forest, caring for slumbering gods. The Jailer had taunted her, telling her this was where she’d been headed before Arthas had rent her soul in twain and damned her to undeath and her eventual bargain. But even in her kindest end, Sylvanas now knew she would have become nothing more than a nymph of the woods that did not remember herself.

Or Jaina.

Or Lirath. Or Mother and father. Their souls too, were already lost in this machine of death. One that still very much deserved to be broken.

But not at the costs she had already paid.

Sylvanas waited for him to seem to finish his question, though she did not truly listen to the rest of it. “I’m afraid I’ve seen little outside of the Maw.”

She lied through simplicity. Much as she wished Anduin to enjoy his little sandwiches and hear out her request for peace, she was not here for him.

She was here for the woman who wouldn’t so much as set foot on the Horde side of the ships, and had all the reasons in the world to stay where she was. The Alliance side was made up of one of her ships, actually. Her flagship was larger, but sat lower in the water overall to the point where such side by side anchorage was possible for them. Still, it made Sylvanas nervous. All canons and teeth.

Jaina had a right to every one of those guns.

“I just wondered if you might know where my father went. Where a man like him would go to his eternal rest?” Anduin asked.

The porcelain plate in his hands reflected sunlight dully up at her amidst an array of cucumber, mayonnaise, and white bread. King Wrynn could not look her in the eye as he asked.

Bastion? Perhaps. Varian was a hero, certainly, and Sylvanas remembered well the time they fought side by side, deck to deck on different ships in the sky and not at sea. The way it made her thick black blood seem to race again to fight beside a warrior of equal skill, despite their opposite factions. It was only recent, very recent to one with both an elf and an undead’s lengthy perception of time. She would not soon forget the feeling.

But Varian was headstrong. Willful in the way Alliance men seemed to excel at. A warrior through and through. Perhaps he fought in the endless battles of Maldraxxus.

But death was infinite and terrible. Its realms expanded on and on, like the twisting tower of Torghast. It was not for mortal comprehension. It was not meant to make sense, or to be fair.

“I’m afraid I don’t know,” was the most honest answer she could give him. “But, as you do, I would hope he rests peacefully, and remains as such. I cannot recommend the alternative.”

Anduin Wrynn had never heard her make a joke before. That occurred to her as he stared at her, one bushy blonde eyebrow cocked in disbelief.

Not many people from the other ship had heard her make a joke before, actually. Or even on her side of the gangplank.

Among the many disservices of her death and the loss of her whole soul was that the world had forgotten she was funny.

She used to be very funny.

“Right,” Anduin eventually said, catching the gape that his mouth was starting to form and closing his teeth with an audible click. “Perhaps I might draft up a letter with a list of questions, or put you in contact with a scholar to chronicle your knowledge.”

“No doubt many will be interested. I’ve already been approached by the Reliquary and my own Apothecaries since my announcement to the Horde,” Sylvanas informed him.

She had no doubt that she would be made to recount her singular experiences a hundred times over. If Azeroth survived to care about them, that is.

“But,” she continued. “My priorities at the moment are ensuring that we work together to protect the world of the living and my people alike from that which may threaten us.”

Diplomacy never felt right to her. Even as successful as she had been at it here and there. She was a creature of trails and trees, not of contracts and meetings.

Or graves and the ink darkness of night. Lingering fog and dripping horrors. Teeth gnashing at rotting flesh.

Reconciling the two was still too difficult to keep in the forefront of her mind. Both parts of her had known a life of duty and objectivity coming first. That, at least, Sylvanas could focus on.

Even as her eyes tracked the deep blue of Jaina’s greatcoat from across the deck.

“Right,” Anduin said again, nodding along and picking up a tiny sandwich in meaty hands that must have come from his father. “If you want to discuss anything in specific about the draft agreement I’ve put forth, before we bring it to the table here, let me know.”

It was good, for a draft. Sylvanas had nothing to bring up. She knew that the other leaders of the Horde would be happy to squabble about the particulars and pick it apart. She was only concerned with setting a limit on the time they could do so. Dread and anxiety were her constant companions, even as she didn’t settle her thoughts on her disparate existence. Time, she felt, was a borrowed luxury they did not have to throw around, though she could not say why exactly.

She hadn’t bothered to go into descriptions of the Jailer’s forces to great degrees. “The Scourge, but worse,” was approximately what she had told the Alliance to watch out for. But her vision had been clouded by the black feathers of Mawsworn. The dull gray metal of armored constructs. The sharp bone of skeletal horrors.

“It is a fine agreement for the time being,” Sylvanas told him. “One that I will work to ensure the Horde honors as we face this threat.”

“I will tell you there is some skepticism on my side that there is a threat at all,” Anduin said, still holding the sandwich. “Not from my part. You are quite obviously changed to my eyes, if you don’t mind me saying so. Something has happened to cause that, and I believe you there. But others aren’t so quick to trust.”

No, they would not be. Not Genn Greymane, his silvered fur bristled as he stalked the deck of Jaina’s ship, one of the many not to leave it. In fact, the only ones to cross the gangplank thus far were Anduin and Baine.

As Sylvanas’ eyes flitted briefly away from Jaina, they noted her sisters were nowhere to be found on the Alliance ship. Neither, it seemed, had the courage to face her, or represent their factions of stolen elves. Stolen names.

“I honestly hope that I’m wrong, Wyrnn,” she told him. “I hope that nothing happens. But I fear that we will feel the Jailer’s wrath and fear we will feel it soon. My promise remains regardless of whether that happens or not, though. Azeroth has spent too long at war, and I no longer wish to be the cause of it.”

“What changed your mind?”

Sylvanas was hardly prepared for the question.

A dead body, dripping salt water on her table in the cabin just below them, was the root of the answer. But Derek Proudmoore’s rotted corpse was mostly a symbol. A message to her from her. From beyond her.

You are better than this. You are better than a pawn in someone else’s game.

Sylvanas knew what she wanted, and knew then, as she stared down a decision she did not want to make, that it wasn’t that. She wished she made this long ago, honestly. At the peak of Icecrown Citadel. Over Vol’jin’s dying, fel-ridden body. Before the flames were launched at Teldrassil.

Early as she could go back, honestly, but it would never be enough.

Her hands were already stained with blood from the moment they’d become her own again. From the first flex of spectral fingers that was her will and hers alone, after her death. But before then, they’d been used to rip the faces off of elven children. To rend the land that had birthed her so deeply that it was still scarred to this day. Bodiless, monstrous, and broken beyond repair—she had been irredeemable from the very start of her unlife.

Even now, soul restored to wholeness, hands corporeal but still stained with that blood and so much more, there was no fixing it. There was no forgiveness. No justice. No redemption to be sought.

There never would be.

Sylvanas’ eyes still tracked the blue greatcoat across the deck of the Kul Tiran ship. No doubt it was hot, but Jaina kept herself beneath it as if it were a shield that protected her from the foulness of the very air.

Foul, perhaps, because of who it was shared with. Truly, all Sylvanas could get from her over their renewed bond since the ships both docked was a feeling of general annoyance bordering on aversion. It pulled at the bottom of her stomach and tightened her chest.

Only then, as he waited for an answer, did Anduin’s eyes follow hers and land on the real answer to his question.

How could she explain that to the boy king? That even in her undeath, her brokenness, her grief over her own life, she could not violate the bond that had once tied her to Jaina. She could not bring herself to attack her directly. The thought had repelled her, like one magnetic pole to another of the same charge. It was never an option.

And even Jaina, in all her disgust, had looked sorry at Lordaeron for being willing to do what she was not.

A memory stirred in Sylvanas’ mind, so vivid now with her newfound ability to connect to the fullness of its emotions. Once, she and Jaina had sat on the beach outside of Windrunner Spire, an outing prompted after their recounting of similar childhoods spent by the seashore. The beach outside the Spire was mostly rocky, and only had a small strip of smooth sand on which they’d laid out a little picnic.

It had been the day before they had to leave one another. Jaina laughed and teased and loved her. She smelled of mana wine and pomegranates and honey pastries. She leaned in for a kiss, on that perfect afternoon, and asked as she pulled away, “But where will we live?”

The question was a loaded one. No answer was correct. The first difficult to navigate strait in the sea of their union. Sylvanas wanted to answer that here at the Spire was good. But Jaina was an agent of the Kirin Tor, based in Dalaran. Sylvanas hated Dalaran, and was the Ranger General of Quel’thalas. But Jaina was also technically heir to the Kul Tiran admiralty, and would presumably need to return there or name her younger brother heir instead some day. Back then, her father still lived and was still young enough to the point it wasn’t the forethought on anyone’s mind, save maybe Sylvanas’ as she worried for them. And then there was the Alliance, based in Lordaeron and not Stormwind back then, that called to the loyalties of both of them.

Sylvanas had listed all of these in a panicked tirade of sorts, wanting to find the answer.

It was Jaina who had arrived at the real answer with a smile, “Don’t worry so much. We’ll figure it out.”

They never got to even try.

“I see,” Anduin started. “Well if—”

“You wretched beast!” A Thalassian screech came from just below them, causing both Anduin and Sylvanas to lean over the railing to see the source.

That happened to be Velonara shaking an offending pest off of her boot. The offending pest being a small pink dinosaur that was clinging onto the black leather, gnawing at the laces.

Nathanos ran over from where he’d been entertaining Gallywix and his goblins, prying the creature off with a desperate whisper of, “How did you get out?” before carrying it back into the aft cabin with a huff.

He was successful in that at least, despite the creature’s protesting squawk and sharp little teeth that no doubt left a few tiny holes in his gloves.

“Fascinating wildlife here in Zandalar,” Anduin noted as distraction was removed.

“Yes, fascinating,” Sylvanas agreed dryly.

She’d have a talk with Nathanos about smuggling his newest pets onto diplomatic missions later.

Thankfully, as Anduin seemed to be following her gaze across to the other ship again, another distraction was provided in the form of red hair and golden armor. Lady Liadrin stood on the last step up to the aft deck, seemingly waiting to be invited to join them.

Still a stickler for decorum, after all these years. Sylvanas hadn’t spoken to her since, save to grant orders. Once, she had considered her a friend.

They even went on a terrible date once, centuries ago. Absolutely awful. Liadrin had tried to order for her at the restaurant, and it had only gotten worse from there. And now here she was, waiting to be acknowledged. It must have physically pained the control freak that Sylvanas knew lay beneath all that armor.

“Matriarch,” Sylvanas said with a nod in her direction.

Liadrin still looked like shit. Like she’d been run over by a goblin trike and left in the streets of Orgrimmar to die for it. She did her best to hold it together and bowed gracefully and appropriately to Sylvanas and Anduin, but the signs were there. Something was wrong. Deeply wrong.

And Sylvanas was struggling with wanting to actually ask what that was, when she was owed no such answer.

“Warchief, High King,” Liadrin said as she rose.

Anduin was respectful in his own nod to her, offering a greeting, “Bal’a dash, Lady Liadrin.”

His pronunciation was not terrible, for all it was worth. And while Sylvanas expected Liadrin not to have any interest in his attempt, her golden eyes only settled on the young king. A question burned in them. A question she did not ask.

Her gaze instead flitted around the boy king, left, then right, then back to him. Searching for something.

There was nothing up here but Sylvanas, Anduin, and the ship’s wheel. Maybe it was some Light thing? That, at least, Sylvanas had never understood in any of her lives. Nor had she cared to. Especially now. Religion was not the realm of the dead.

“It’s no rush,” Liadrin began, finally, “but I was hoping I might borrow a moment of your time before we reconvene, King Wrynn.”

“Certainly. We have not spoken since the Legion’s invasion, and I treasure any opportunity to speak to a sister in the Light,” was Anduin’s very warm and seemingly genuine answer.

Only he didn’t get to continue on to the point of turning Sylvanas’ undead stomach with his religious drivel.

The afternoon sun flickered strangely out of the corner of her eye. Sylvanas banished the thought, just another vision of dread. Another fantasy of what could come for her, for all of them. The price she would pay for the faint blue glow of the moon she kept hidden on her wrist beneath her clawed gauntlets, matching that which would be similarly hidden by the golden gauntlet on Jaina’s casting hand.

The price she’d paid to be ignored and shunned yet again. Sylvanas was coming to the conclusion that she did indeed deserve it. Her best hope was this peace, and buying herself a few years of good behavior, of attempted redemption where there could truly be none, just to be heard. To be seen. To be looked at, even, with anything other than pity or silent apology.

But then the sun flickered again, this time catching the hard gold of Liadrin’s eyes enough to rouse them from the dark bags that sunk beneath them. Enough for Sylvanas to follow her gaze to the west.

“Mawsworn!” she shouted.

No one but her knew the meaning of the word, of the dark silhouettes that flocked toward them, shading out the sun with a mass of black feathers. They looked not too dissimilar from her Val’kyr, but larger. Fiercer. Intent. Whereas the Val’kyr waited on orders, inert but for the occasional flap of wings, Sylvanas had never seen a Mawsworn that didn’t have some terrible mission on their mind, always flying toward something.

And now they were flying toward her, and her peace summit.

Deathwhisper was in her hands in an instant. No Thas’dorah, certainly, but she could make it work. No doubt things would be better if she’d accepted the Jailer’s gifts, the chained arrows he’d promised in exchange for more and more dirty deeds.

Only now did she regret not taking him up on the offer.

“That’s what they look like? I don’t under—”

Anduin was cut off from his confusion by Liadrin drawing her sword and standing between him and the western sky.

“Arm yourself!” she ordered someone she had no business ordering, gruff voice grated even deeper by her apparent exhaustion.

That was enough to shake Anduin out of his questioning, though he muttered, “They look like angels,” as he drew his father’s famed sword.

They were not angels. Angels lived in Bastion and forgot themselves. Angels carried the dead into the machine to chop them up at the behest of yet even more masters. Nowhere could anyone be free, even in death.

Not, at least, if they didn’t fight.

Sylvanas knocked an arrow and looked to the combined forces of Horde and Alliance leadership on the decks below her, scrambling to her warning call. Satisfied that the Horde ship had a suitable amount of Dark Rangers with bows drawn as she had, even Nathanos, and plenty of Orcish axes and Tauren totems alike joining them, she cast a look over to the Alliance ship.

And to a blue coat beneath which hands were forming to host an icy spell. Jaina’s eyes glowed with arcane, visible even from this far away, as she stood between most of her own people and the new threat.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you!” Sylvanas shouted over the water and wood. “Watch for their chains!”

And then they were upon them. So fast did their black wings carry them across Azeroth’s sky that it was seemingly unnatural. No time to think of where they could have come from or how or why. Well, the why Sylvanas was certain of, at least.

They’d come for her.

She fired the first shot, an arrow that ripped through the black feathers of the winged skeleton, slicing just the corner of its dark cloak. Wide and misaimed.

The product of fear. A deep fear that Sylvanas had not felt in years. A fear not for herself, but for those around her. For Anduin. Liadrin. Even traitorous Baine, who didn’t think she’d known of his dealings with the Alliance. And Jaina.

Of course, Jaina. But she shot second, and her ice lance hit true, striking a Mawsworn from the air and into the ocean with the force of it.

Truly, what an honor it was to be destined for such a powerful woman, who had only grown into that power and beauty over these last hard years. What a privilege, even if she wouldn’t deign to look at the broken creature that was Sylvanas Windrunner.

Sylvanas knocked another arrow. She fired. She hit deep into an eye socket this time, causing another Mawsworn to fall. She listened as Liadrin and Anduin whispered blessings under their breath, laying hands on one another to trade them.

She knocked a third arrow, but didn’t get a chance to fire before a chain shot out toward her.

Liadrin dutifully deflected this with her shield, offering Sylvanas cover to fire behind. The fear dissipated, and suddenly her dead heart was full of a feeling of ancient camaraderie. Of memories of Liadrin when she still wielded the mace of a priestess, and was no less fearsome in her white robes than she was in her golden and crimson armor. Of times when she’d done this before, standing between Sylvanas and an Amani troll. An Alliance footman. A shambling undead horror. A massive, horned demon.

This was just another enemy. Another in the unending chain of threats that Azeroth seemed to face. And as shaped by war as Sylvanas was like no one else, she had to remind herself that she was not the only one so molded. Maybe not to such a degree, but she wasn’t about to debate that with Liadrin.

She was grateful, she realized, as she fired over her shoulder with a little smirk on her face.

“Ready yourselves!” Sylvanas delivered one last final warning as she made a fifth shot over Liadrin’s red ponytail.

The decks became crowded with black feathers and magical chains. They were just as soon filled with broken bones and battered pieces of dull gray armor. While she didn’t like being caught off guard, the place to do so was certainly around the best and brightest that each faction had to offer, as it seemed none of them had a problem with this initial onslaught.

Nathanos had hopped up on the aft deck to join them, and flashed her a grin as he buried one of his axes into a screaming skull. Midship, Saurfang headbutted another skull with such force that it cracked loudly enough to draw her attention a moment later. She caught sight of Genn Greymane with a fibula in his wolven mouth. Maybe an ulna. The area around Jaina was just coated in ice, several Mawsworn either frozen within it or shattered by it.

They were many, but they were fragile. They were not meant to be here in the living world, and it seemed to be a weakness to them. Their bones were brittle, Sylvanas realized as she cleaved yet another skull near in two with a close range shot.

This was a battle that could be easily won.

Even Anduin was holding up next to her, green boy that he obviously was. He’d made a good run of it at Lordaeron, and had shown courage then, but his heart was not in it. That much was clear to Sylvanas. He didn’t have that streak of joy in the kill to him. She doubted he’d even enjoy a good hunt, and would weep instead for the animals.

But, he still cut clean through a ribcage. A leg. An arm. A haze of black feathers.

And somehow missed the chain that wrapped around him.

His grunt of surprise was what alerted her as he was lifted into the air. The Mawsworn that had tangled him made haste to fly up, up, and then off.

They weren’t here to fight. They were here to take. Zovaal didn’t care how many of his abominations he lost in the process. He only needed to rob Sylvanas of one of her allies, or her own freedom, to prove that his vengeance was not to be trifled with.

And she wasn’t about to let him win another battle. Never again.

She rolled out of the cloud of Mawsworn that had descended on the aft deck, up to the rail that stood between her and the sea. She took aim, willing the necromantic magic that bound her to unlife into her arrow until it swirled with darkness, hoping that would be enough. She fired at the chain that held Anduin aloft, slowly raising upward to bring him into the embrace of the Mawsworn that was carrying him off.

Her shot hit true, determined as she was that it would. It snapped the chain, but left the boy king falling rapidly toward the ocean.

Sylvanas didn’t hesitate. Much as she hated her banshee form, and the memories she still carried of those days where she watched its clawed hands move against her will to aid Arthas in destroying Silvermoon, she slipped into it without lingering on those thoughts. There was no time for it.

She shot forward at speed that almost matched that of unnatural Mawsworn, managing to catch him just before he hit the waves. He would have hit them hard, covered in that ridiculous plate, and sunk below them immediately. There was no other choice.

Even though he shied away from her and the scream that echoed from her spectral mouth unbidden as it must when she was this way.

Sylvanas wanted to warn him to cover his ears, but she couldn’t speak when she was like this. She could only scream.

No wonder Jaina wouldn’t look at her. She was still dead. Broken. Monstrous. A war criminal on her best day. An abomination no different than those that attacked them at her worst.

As she soared back upward to the aft deck with him in her arms, Sylvanas couldn’t help but notice the blue glow on the wrist that curled around Anduin. Even temporarily banishing her physical body, and the mark that contained that fire, she was not without it.

But she didn’t have time to contemplate that either. She surged upward with one last blast of a scream, reminding herself to beg forgiveness from Anduin later, and summoned her corporeal form once she had him dumped safely onto the deck once more.

A little bit unceremoniously, perhaps. A little rougher than necessary, surely.

For the Undercity, Sylvanas thought to herself as she took up Deathwhisper again, and went back to filling Mawsworn with arrows. For the Undercity indeed, she stood over Anduin as he got to his feet and got ready to continue the fight. She made sure to turn around at her earliest opportunity, and shoot down the one that was coming back from the sea, having realized its prize had been stolen from it.

As easily as they fell, their numbers were so great. So much so that Sylvanas lost count of how many she’d downed quickly. She was also busy keeping her eyes on the sky to ensure that no one else was being taken, but it seemed only Anduin had been caught unaware by the chains thus far. She’d dodged more than a few of her own, grabbing him by his tabard to drag him with her up to the railing overlooking the lower deck. Large as he was, she was stronger. Yet another point for undeath today.

What she saw there was nothing short of disappointing. Most of the Mawsworn were clustered on the aft deck of her ship, and between her, Anduin, Liadrin, and Nathanos, had mostly been dispatched. The Horde below had dealt with nearly all that assailed them already.

But the Alliance ship didn’t fare as well. Only Jaina seemed to be a deadly force enough to leave her icy corner of the Kul Tiran flagship fully clear. Otherwise, it was still a haze of black feathers and battle cries.

“Horde, what are you doing?” Sylvanas questioned of idle axes and swords, arcane and Light alike. “Protect our allies! We must work together!”

With one last quick check to make sure that Nathanos and Liadrin had a handle on the remaining Mawsworn on the aft deck, Sylvanas turned to Anduin and told him, “I’m afraid your little papers must wait. Allow me to prove the truth of my words. Fight with me.”

“I didn’t doubt you in the first place!” Anduin protested as she led the way across the gangplank to the deck of the Kul Tiran ship.

The Kul Tiran ship, where it seemed the Mawsworn had realized who was to be feared there. Who was to be prioritized. Or perhaps, who the Jailer had sent to target.

Whose capture and subsequent torture in the bowels of hell itself would hurt Sylvanas most.

The remainder of them were closing in on Jaina, chains lashing out only to meet wave after wave of ice, shattering them each time. Impressive as it was, Sylvanas knew she couldn’t keep it up forever. Mana was a thing in limited quantities, even for one of Azeroth’s most powerful mages.

Certainly its most beautiful, eyes aglow with magic, greatcoat forgotten and frozen to the deck beside her, white braid whipping in the wind.

As much as Sylvanas enjoyed looking at her soulmate in her battle fury, she was here to help her, wanted or not. She took aim and fired at a Mawsworn that was getting too close, and nodded to Anduin as he ran to assist the woman he apparently would refer to as his aunt, despite their lack of blood relation.

Bones clattered to the polished wood of the deck, darker and slicker than that of her own ship. Ice smashed and shattered into crystalline explosions that tingled Sylvanas’ sensitive elven ears. A dwarf threw a thunder-laden hammer that whizzed past her. Genn was snarling off to her left, but at the Mawsworn he was biting at and not her. And finally, the Horde followed. Saurfang crashed into a skeletal figure that was flanking her right. A spectral dinosaur came across the gangplank, summoned by the muttered words of Talanji to assist. A goblin rocket was aimed with surprising care and managed to hit only a pack of Mawsworn that were cutting off the aft deck of the Alliance ship from the rest of the fight.

In her efforts to get to Jaina and help, Sylvanas hadn’t realized how close they were. Suddenly, it seemed, they were nearly back to back—Sylvanas facing west to keep an eye on the sky, and Jaina facing east to blast the last big group of Mawsworn with a cone of ice wind, freezing them in place for the coming rush of melee fighters to smash to bits.

Only when she heard the panting breaths of Jaina thrumming against her ears, did she realize this was the closest she’d been to her in over a decade. The last time she’d heard her this winded, this close, it had been for much better reasons. Much more pleasant, at least.

Sylvanas turned to the east to see if there were anymore enemies, but was only met with blue eyes.

Blue eyes, looking at her for the second time in all these years. This time not begging for an apology Jaina would not give. Could not give.

This time, they were regarding her as if she’d never seen her before. Curiously. Cautiously.

Almost like the first time Sylvanas ever saw them, when Jaina came through the portal with Vereesa in tow, chattering to her about how excited she was to have potentially found her sister’s soulmate for her.

How beautiful she’d been then too. Young, but knowing. Her hair shining gold to match the leaves of the forests of Quel’thalas. She’d been a vision in the purple and white livery of the Kirin Tor. With her curious blue eyes, and the smile she’d given her after that first cautious look.

Sylvanas hadn’t been what she expected. Jaina hadn’t been what she’d expected either. But somehow, they’d been perfect for each other.

But this time—thirteen years and countless tragedies later, Jaina did not smile. She turned away, searching for Anduin before asking him, “Anduin, are you all right?”

He wasn’t in the best shape. Sylvanas could see blood dripping from one of his ears, likely the fault of her banshee wail. The foul magic of the chains that had wrapped him had left a nasty red mark in their pattern across his cheek. He was far more winded than Jaina, even, but was able to give her a nod.

Still, she checked him over, pushed at his breastplate to stand him up straight so she could confirm he was otherwise unhurt.

“Sylvanas saved me,” he blurted out when he managed to catch his breath.

“I saw,” Jaina told him, speaking under her breath, but not quiet enough to avoid being heard by an elf.

Sylvanas watched as she flexed her casting hand, and the other one briefly came to touch it, shaking. She turned and looked at Sylvanas again, still seeming to be undecided.

But across their bond, weak as it was, Sylvanas felt a tug. A pull. Magnetic in the opposite way she’d been thinking of before. A draw that demanded they be together. The very laws of physics itself would not allow for anything else.

The deck was soon awash with activity that swept Jaina from her vision before they could connect. Leaders gathering, now all on the Kul Tiran ship for the first time—examining remains of their enemies, wondering at the suddenness of the attack, the strange chains, the purpose of it all. Some mutters, too, of how convenient it was that this had come just after Sylvanas had warned them. Of how it could be another one of her tricks.

Again, she’d not given them reason to suspect otherwise. It would not take one battle, one rescue of an enemy leader, to prove her intentions.

Sylvanas knew this would take years, if she was lucky. Restoring even the smallest amount of trust in her among the rest of Azeroth would be a near impossible feat. But, at least they would all understand what to watch out for now, if nothing else.

She was about to look for Nathanos or one of her Rangers to ask for a report from them when a hand reached for her upper arm. A gap between her pauldrons and gauntlets that all Ranger armor had, to allow for the movement of one’s arms. A gap one would only reach for if one was familiar with it, and looking to make contact with skin.

A gap where Jaina Proudmoore’s hand started a feedback loop that Sylvanas hadn’t felt in thirteen years. Even through the cloth of her glove, Sylvanas could feel her feeling her feeling her feeling her. The coldness of her skin. The curiosity. The hesitation. But still, she was touching her. Trying to get her attention in only the way she could.

Sylvanas turned to face her, wordless, only feeling. Only feeling her and Jaina’s sensations of one another mingle and merge until they were indistinguishable. Was that her shock or Jaina’s? Was the cloth on her skin or Jaina’s? Was she surprised at herself and how she reacted, how much this took the wind out of her sails, or was that Jaina’s Kul Tiran expression leaking through her thoughts.

It was too much and not enough at once. Sylvanas wanted to run. She wanted to pull away. She wanted to pull Jaina to her, cover her skin with hers, regardless of how cold and dead it might be, and lose herself in this heady feeling. She wanted the true completeness of her soul that was only found in her arms. She wanted to rewind time itself, and forget all these sins that had kept them apart, had kept her desperate enough to commit them in the name of the hope of this.

“Tomorrow, Theramore,” Jaina whispered to her, hand still on her skin. “I will meet you. We can talk. I…”

Sylvanas’ eyes traced down from Jaina’s own blue eyes to her lips. Lips she could still remember kissing. Lips that she remembered setting alight the mark on her wrist with the sweetest kiss anyone could ever receive.

The kiss that marked a life that would no longer have to be lived alone. That meant she would have a partner, forever. For as long as this chaotic world of theirs would let them both live, at least.

And perhaps beyond that.

She watched as those lips mouthed a word, seemingly running out of breath and will to speak it.

A world Sylvanas had taught her.

“Rea’anath,” she’d said once, cradled in Sylvanas’ arms in her bedroom at the Spire.

“Bonded soul,” Sylvanas had translated for her. “In case you hear anyone call you that in reference to me.”

“Should I call you that?” Jaina had asked.

“You can if you’d like,” Sylvanas had told her before leaning in to kiss the word out of her mouth before she could say it again.

But now, on the deck of her ship, surrounded by shattered bones and ice, Sylvanas could only stare after her as Jaina’s hand left her arm, and she ran to catch Anduin again as he surveyed the damage. She could only chase after the echo of their looped feelings. Of a touch she didn’t deserve and wasn’t ready for, even if it was what she’d wanted most, killed and died again and again to get back. Of a word she was so certain she’d never hear her say again, not fully voiced, but still attempted.

A bond renewed. A flame fed to roaring. A longing that consumed her as emptiness once had.

#sylvaina #Sylvanas Windrunner #Jaina Proudmoore #fanfic #beneath the blue moon #sorry for the months long hiatus on this #but damn if it wasn't a treat to write catty sylvanas again #i missed her so much

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youlikefanficdontyousquidward · 10 months

Text

Little less than super, soldier

Basically an oc x zemo fic but I'm going to write it in y/n style because that's what I'm comfortable with ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Also I am still working on Avatar and Spiderman fics just taking a self indulgent break because the FOCUStm is on Zemo rn.

Your characters background is clear as the story progresses but if you'd prefer to know it going in this is a post on it! And this is a short fic of that info too ✌

This is a part one... I got so excited and wrote a few more ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Summary: Sam gets back up from an old friend, meanwhile y/n is struggling to deal with Zemo.

warnings: for now canon typical violence, tho later chapters will contain mild body horror. Warnings will specify.

Nicht - Don't

Tut mir leid - I'm sorry

Soldat - Soldier

(My german is very basic so feel free to correct me!)

Sam hadn't seen you in years, not since he watched you walk away from him, Bucky and Steve. He couldn't argue with their decision, it was for the best. You were a wreck and despite his best hopes he knew you were right. If anyone knew you were alive they'd use you again.

Still he wasn't too surprised when you turned up at his house. He'd only been back from dust a few days earlier but he'd heard from others that you'd been there. Stepping up to help when people around the globe needed you. He hadn't realized the broken person he'd met screaming in a cell had so much heart.

Still you were a ball of nerves, being overly polite and stumbling over your questions. It was a far cry from the swearing, snapping venom you'd spit when the Avengers had you and it put him a little on edge. You just wanted to know if he was okay, if they all were and that you'd be leaving again. He'd given your shoulder a squeeze, despite the flinch, and wished you the best. You'd settled quickly under his had and that was the first time he saw you really smile.

He found the number a few hours later. A tiny scrap you'd somehow tucked into his own jean pocket. A small note, "Just in case." He felt oddly proud of who you'd become and kept it into his wallet.

That day passed into fond memory but every so often a little note and number would turn up. A small reminder you were out there and willing to help again. A few times he thought to call but he didn't. No point worrying you or pulling you back for nothing.

Only this wasn't nothing now. He and Bucky were stumped and with the threat of super-soldiers and he knew you'd want to know. Though the idea of dragging you back it was horrible. He felt the weight of his decision bearing down on his shoulders. Sam slumped further into his chair as he eyed the message. Then with a last deep breath in, his thumb tapped the glass.

Sent. Delivered. Read. Ellipsis.

Then nothing. He waited, head in hands, regretting it immediately. It wasn't like you wouldn't be a huge help but dragging you back like this? It just didn't feel right. Even if you came what could you know anyway? Hydra weren't exactly open with you about things whilst in there clutches. Hell you might end up coming to draw gun fire and that thought twisted his gut. Sam watched the screen until his eyes burnt, then let his head hit the desk.

The buzz startled him some time later. He flung out his seat, scrambling to the message. Bucky, whatever he had been up to after visiting Zemo he was ready to meet. Sam's shoulders sagged as he read the text. He wasn't disappointed, not really. He knew he was asking too much by contacting you. The risk to your freedom was eminence. There was no telling who was still out there looking for you, other than SWORD anyway.

Still Sam couldn't help but feel down as he got his things ready. God only knows what Bucky had done and meeting him across town in some garage didn't bode well.

Maybe you'd settled down somewhere, maybe you were happy. He hoped so, that you'd chosen yourself. Sam fortified himself, squaring his shoulders as he headed to the door. No point stalling, he needed to find out what Bucky had been up to.

He swung the door out quickly but found his feet rooted in place. There you were, frozen with a hand in the air ready to knock. A mess of hair, in sweatpants and an old thread bare t-shirt, looking rather stunned. He stared a moment, watching your mouth bob open and shut, over night bag slipping down your shoulder.

"Y/n!" Sam couldn't help the grin that spread across his face. To his relief your posture relaxed and you returned his smile. "Come on, Bucky might have something, we'll meet him across town."

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

You knew you should try to stop bouncing your leg but every time you lost focus it jumped to life. You didn't want Sam to see you worried like this. He'd always been so kind to you and you didn't doubt he'd let you leave if you asked. You couldn't however, no matter how much it felt like jaws were gonna snap down on you.

He'd been so nice in the car over, being careful to avoid touching you, asking after your life, avoiding making you speak any specifics. You appreciated that, although your run down, rented flat and part time jobs were hardly worth the effort. Hell you'd struggled enough making nice with coworkers, maybe a fresh start would be nice after this.

You'd wanted to call Sam. You'd wanted to check in with him and his family. For a time you even considered contacting Wanda but you never liked someone else in your mind with you. No you'd resigned yourself to the loneliness. Maybe you should get a pet.

"Is it Bucky?" Sam offered, eyes glancing to you before returning to scanning the room. "You know after Wakanda he's..."

"Yes I know." You interrupted, stilling yourself again. You'd actually gone to see him shortly after checking in with Sam. A guilty part of you had felt relieved when he'd disappeared. Though after the five year absence you felt you had to see him too.

He'd been starting therapy at the time, was working, he was doing well all things considered. Still you'd felt the need to check, to be sure the Soldat was gone. You'd left then satisfied that the man you'd known wasn't behind those kind sad eyes and that this Bucky that stood in his skin was not a threat. Still an incredibly able soldier just not of the winter variety. Anyway it wasn't him you were worried about.

When Sam had fully explained the situation you'd blanched. These flag-smashers had access to the serum. Not the same one you'd had pumped into you but a better one. One that left them with the strength and power of Captain America, not just side effects.

Still no matter what it cost, you couldn't leave knowing the serum was out there somewhere. So you'd focus on that, let it anger you, burn away any doubt and drive you forward.

You heard him before you saw him. Loud deliberate steps, Sam must have let him know you'd be there. Unless they were so as not to startle Sam. Regardless there was little more than a tight smiles shared before Bucky led you both further in to the garage.

You wouldn't say you were on comfortable terms with him yet. He was still guilt ridden about the Soldat's memories with you and you were still a little unnerved with a new man wearing the same face. It was nice to see him so happy though. Even in this circumstance his mood seemed far different than you'd ever seen him. Here's to therapy you supposed.

Bucky's plan seemed rather extreme. Break Zemo out and have him help. You had to admit it seemed rather extreme. The ex Colonel was part of an elite intelligence op and had a history of hating Avengers. Though he also hated super soldiers more so that might keep him on their side. Enemy of my enemy and all that.

Except you'd be among the enemy in that case. It wasn't outside the realms of possibility that Zemo didn't know about you. After all his search through the leaked files where rather singular in their aims. Your particular information had been lost or redacted so heavily that without specific knowledge on you it would be hard to link the two.

You continued to follow behind Sam, keeping your eyes on the shadows, watching your back. Some stress was elevated when Bucky flipped the lights on, continuing his back and forth with Sam after shooting a soft look at you. Nothing got past his notice.

If they kept this bickering up you'd be there all day. You slunk over to a car under the lights, perching on the open bonnet. You couldn't help the fondness in your smile as you watched their amusing relationship. Giggling to yourself as Sam rolled his eyes with his whole body, raising his brows to you.

"Look, let me just walk you through a hypothetical. Can I just walk you through a hypothetical." Bucky started.

"What did you do?" Sam questioned, his brow furrowing as he turned back to face him.

You felt tense again, arms uncrossing from your chest. You weren't quiet sure what was going on now. Clearly Sam had caught on to something you'd missed. Bucky launched into a far too detailed plan and you felt a shiver run down your spine. Every hair stood on end as the dawning realization hit.

"You didn't..." You almost whispered as Sam interrupted again. Then the door was opening and your ears were ringing. Your heart pounded in your throat as Sam charged forward in front of you. You were still stunned, now behind them both as Zemo entered the garage, dressed in a guards uniform.

He caught eyes with you for a moment, taking his hat off before returning to Sam and Bucky's argument. His eyes seemed to drift back to you before he interjected again.

You found yourself standing under his scrutinizing gaze, drifting closer to Sam, inching him further between you and Zemo. You barely followed what was being said, waiting for him to pull a gun or stop staring. Either was preferable in this moment.

"Okay." Sam spoke, defeat in his tone. You clenched your jaw. You didn't like this. If the guy wasn't gonna attack he was going to manipulate his way to his release, you were sure.

Still he seemed cooperative, leading you all back to a larger room filled with old cars. They were expensive things but you didn't let your eyes wander from him. Choosing to break the middle of the pack, you kept yourself between Sam and him. Despite his words and values you wanted to remain vigilant. If you could do nothing else you'd shield Sam.

Other than a few snide comments he seemed true to his word. He drove the group of you to an airport in mostly silence. Peaking back at you and Sam through the mirror.

"So all this time you've been rich?" Sam said incredulous at the sight of the privet jet on the tarmac. You'd calmed down a little, walking by him and Bucky's side as you followed.

"I'm a Baron Sam, my family was royalty until your friends destroyed my country." Zemo spat back. You couldn't help but snort at his comment. You regretted drawing his attention again when he stared back at you. You looked away until his attention left, drawn else where.

Bucky and Sam eyed you a moment and the indignation flared in you again. "What? They dropped that city on me." you hissed quietly. You weren't sure you wanted Zemo to hear that. Sam looked stunned blinking at you before he was turned back to the plane. You fell back in step behind the group as you approached.

You suppose you never did tell him about that. Just letting it stew with your general hatred towards your then captors back then. It'd been a huge loss to you. A life built there crashing down on top of you, leaving you broken and pinned for days. You shook the memories away trying to forget the carnage.

Zemo greeted an old butler looking guy at the steps. To your delight he was wearing the little white gloves and everything. Sam awkwardly nodded and you gave the man a genuine smile as you passed. He was just like the caricature on TV. He looked to be 100 and considering his familiarity with Zemo he could've known him all his life.

It soon set you on edge to be at his mercy 1000 feet in the air. With a knowing look he could fly you all anywhere and you'd be none the wiser. Certainly wouldn't make a change from most flights you'd been on, at least your hands would be free.

Zemo smiled at you as you boarded, gesturing to the seat opposite his own. You ducked your head, shifting quickly to the back behind Sam. If the staring was bad in the garage you sure as hell didn't wanna experience it in direct line of sight.

You didn't catch his name but Zemo spoke to the butler in Sokovian for a moment, implying he'd give out of date food to Sam and Bucky. Angered you huffed, Zemo turning at the sound. You caught his eye, keeping a glare set on his smug expression.

"Nicht." You bit out through gritted teeth. Your Sokovian was rusty but you saw the slightest change in Zemo's expression, before it settle back into a cat like grin.

"Tut mir leid." He nodded, turning back to face forwards again. Sam's head peaked at you from round his seat but you just slumped back into your own. Staring out the window and gripping the arm rests as the plane took flight.

Not long into cruising altitude Zemo angered Bucky. You hadn't been paying them much attention by this point. You'd found yourself relaxing and had become dazzled my the ice on the window and fluffy clouds below. You were startled back by the sudden movement of Bucky. Jumping up and catching Bucky's eye as he took his hand off Zemo's neck and slumped back into his seat, his book back in his hands.

Cursing under your breath you moved to the seat in front of Zemo now. You resigned yourself to a task to keep you awake, stop them from killing one another.

Zemo spoke an apology, but it seemed more probing than you liked. To your relief Sam seemed to turn the conversation back to lighter topics. You slid further into your seat a moment before Zemo began pushing again. You glare into him, not missing the way he glanced at you when he said "innocents die."

A small pang of fear hit you but you bit back a response. He'd clearly caught the hint of resentment you felt towards what happened in Sokovia. Still you kept your gaze level as you bit your cheek and allowed Zemo to continue.

Madripoor, you'd only ever been there in passing. The lawless nature allowed you to obtain some fake documents for relatively cheap. It was too risky to stick around though, too many dangers, too much risk of outing yourself.

Worse still Bucky was gonna have to put on an old mask.

Soldat

#my fics #helmut zemo #the falcon and the winter soldier #kinda wanna write a sam x reader too now #zemo x reader #zemo x oc #little less than super soldier

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trashyswitch · 7 months

Text

How to Tame Bowser's Army

Luigi ends up in the darklands despite what happened the first time. In his hand is a rock, and a UV flashlight...and after seeing the rock's true beauty thanks to the UV light, Luigi's discovery unintentionally reveals a tamer, more silly side of Bowser's army.

This fanfic was suggested by my darling, Drew. Aka: @anxious-lee-ler. Though I spoiled some of the story for you, I hope you enjoy the whole story put together.

I don't personally believe in crystal healing or Chakras...but I won't judge you if you do. I just saw a cool rock on the internet, and thought 'Oooh! Fanfic idea?'.

And here's what the Sodalite rock looks like.

Luigi walked around the darklands, unsure how to fully navigate this scary place he had ended up in the first time he arrived at the Mushroom Kingdom. The first time, he was a ball of nerves and this time…he felt no different. He tried to avoid as many turtle skeletons as he could, and jumped onto the rock pieces that littered the lava in the darklands. He looked up at the castle and gulped. Gosh…why did he ever agree to do this…

He sat down on a black rock and took a few breaths to try and overcome his nerves. Mario didn’t understand why Luigi would want to go back here after the nightmares of what happened last time. But…compared to being caged over the lake of lava on the ship and knowing he was gonna be a sacrifice…this was a little bit easier for him to handle. Though it didn’t mean the reasoning was any better…he was still stepping into Bowser’s territory without his knowledge.

The thing was…he was trying to see if he could get some closure on his fears of the Darklands. Mario had stupidly told him that ‘if you want to lessen your fears about it…why don’t you go there and face it head-on?’...and Luigi took that question to heart. He saw how Mario always faced his fears head-on as well, and…he wanted to be more like him. Maybe a bit of bravery could help him feel better about what happened.

Though…maybe he should’ve waited until he felt more mentally ready to do this…because currently, his whole body was shaking from anxiety, and his mind was already spiraling into a mix of real memories and worst case-scenarios based on those past memories.

He got back up and dusted the ash off his pants. Ash constantly filled this place. The only things that seemed alive in this place were the huge trees with misshapen branches. Even then…he’s unsure if they’re actually living in this environment, or if they’re just dead and refusing to fall down just to scare him and spite him. It’s…a mystery.

Luigi pulled out the large rock that was in his pocket. The other reason he wanted to go here was because…this was the darkest place he could think of, to try out this mineral he had found at a shop. The closet at home had given him a nice idea, but…It was crammed and it didn’t show the full potential of what this rock could reveal. He had seen pictures of it online, and he knew…he would get more success if he went to a really dark atmosphere. Normally he’s not a person who enjoys rocks…but this one had a really nice blue color to it…and the person who sold it to him, generously gave him a 2-in-1 UV flashlight half off because of how beautiful it was supposed to look in both normal light, and UV light. But the owner of the store had a dedicated room in the back specifically for seeing rocks like that…So…Luigi wanted to try it himself.

Luigi walked to the lava river, and pulled out the flashlight. He pulled out the rock and noticed it was dark in here. No UV light shown in this place naturally…meaning he was correct to get the flashlight. Luigi held the rock up with his palm, and…turned on the UV light.

Luigi widened his eyes when he saw it.

Whoa…It was…gorgeous! Actually, gorgeous doesn’t even begin to describe it! The rock looked like a tiny galaxy at first glance! Purples, reds, bright blues, lavender purples…Wow…

He turned the rock around in his hand slightly and admired more of the colors that were on the rock. It…He couldn’t believe how pretty they were. This was so worth the extra money spent on it. He was right: This was the best place to see a mineral like this. With it being so dark, Luigi could see it in its full effect!

“Whooooa…” Something said.

Luigi jumped and looked up, almost dropping the rock in the process. “WAH-” He reacted before freezing in place.

Oh no…A dry bones! What was he supposed to do?! All he could think to do was freeze right now! Cause if he screamed, then it may just make things worse for him. And if he runs, then the dry bones will start chasing him! So…he said the only thing he could muster. “S-Sorry…” Luigi mumbled.

The dry bones looked at the rock, before looking at Luigi. What…was it doing? He’s just…standing there. “Oh…” Was all it said.

Luigi blinked, unsure how to handle this situation. Isn’t the skeleton turtle gonna try and hurt him? Why hasn’t he called on his friends to doggy-pile him like the hooded guys in the masks did the first time?! Was Luigi even screwed?! He has to be screwed, right? There’s no way they would tolerate a trespasser while King Koopa is locked away.

But…The dry bones looked down at the rock, and pointed to it. “Do it again.” It said.

Luigi was taken aback slightly, but quickly fiddled with the UV light and turned it on, shining it onto the rock. The rock showed off its pretty galaxy-like glow. The dry bones stared at the rock with a very similar awestruck look on his face. Luigi was struggling to understand why this skeleton turtle liked the rock so much. He began to wonder if he should throw it away like a human playing fetch with a dog, to encourage it to go away. But…Luigi knew that the moment he removed the rays of the UV light from the rock, it would go back to darkness.

Luigi quickly raised his guard when he saw the dry bones moving. It had started walking slightly closer to Luigi, attempting to get a better look at the rock. As a result, the all-too-familiar fiery pupils started to show themselves in its eye sockets.

Luigi quickly widened his eyes and tensed up, preparing to run for fear of the skeleton turtle trying to trick him into being captured. “AH- H-Hold on s-s-sir!” Luigi mumbled, visibly shaking.

…Sir?! Was this thing even a boy? Or a girl?!

The dry bones stopped in its tracks, and noticed Luigi’s nervous shakes. He backed up to his original spot and turned to look at the rest of the darklands. “Hey guys! Come here.” The dry bones told the air.

Suddenly, a few dry bones came out of the ground and started to walk closer. When they noticed Luigi right away, their pupils shined with fiery rage as they immediately started screeching and running towards the enemy.

Luigi yelped and started speed walking backwards. He had been tricked! And NOW THEY WERE GONNA GET HIM! How could he have been so stupid?!

“WAITWAITWAIT-” The dry bones started standing in front of Luigi, attempting to protect him. His friends were coming quickly, meaning he didn’t have time to explain. He turned his head to the left as fast as possible. “T-The light! Show them quickly!” The dry bones yelled to Luigi over his shoulder.

Luigi widened his eyes and quickly attempted to follow his instruction. He fiddled with the rock and turned on the UV light before shining it onto the rock and showing them over the boney arm.

Suddenly, the dry bones stopped dead in their tracks…and started staring curiously at the glowing rock. The dry bones moved out of the way, so that Luigi could show them the rock. Luigi slowly started spinning the rock as he showed it off, revealing all sorts of other colors hidden within the little rock.

A dry bones walked a bit closer to Luigi and looked closer at the rock. “What…is it?” the dry bones asked.

Luigi reluctantly began to calm himself down. They were more interested in the rock…than in him. Not that he was complaining, of course. Distracting the enemy is ten times better than being captured and killed by the enemy. “It’s…” Luigi cleared his throat slightly. “It’s called Sodalite.” he explained.

The dry bones looked at the rest of the rock, and pointed at a certain spot on the rock. “Is it a meteor?” It asked.

Luigi tilted his head. Was he asking this because of the galaxy-esque look to it? Or because…he sees something different? Luigi looked at the back of the piece of sodalite, and widened his eyes when he saw the bright orange glowing dots on the stone. He hadn’t seen this side of the rock before now. The shopkeeper didn’t even show him this side! Maybe it was showing it now because of the lava? Or…maybe there was some other reason…

Suddenly, a red little nub came up and stole the rock right out of his hand! Luigi gasped. “Hey!”

Then, a shy guy pulled his arm down, while another shy guy took the flashlight out of his hand! “Give that back!” Luigi reacted, holding his hand out.

One of the shy guys held up the rock, while another shy guy turned on the UV flashlight and shined it onto the rock. The collective of shy guys all stared at the rock, awestruck by the mineral. “Ooooooooh…” The shy guys all said in unison.

Luigi bit his lip. What’s he supposed to do now? Wait till they’re finished? Or take it back? He understood the appeal of such a rock, but…enough to steal it from him?!

Luigi put on a brave face and decided to try and get the rock back. When he reached out for the rock, a shy guy quickly noticed his hand and handed the rock to another shy guy! Luigi widened his eyes and reached for the rock, but paused when that shy guy threw it to another shy guy!

These cloaked men were currently playing hot potato with the rock, refusing to let Luigi have it back. Everytime Luigi would reach for it, a new shy guy would take it! The shy guys were so mesmerized by it, that they refused to give it back to its rightful owner! The same thing could be said for the UV flashlight. They just didn’t want to accept that it wasn’t theirs. They stole it…therefore, it’s theirs now.

And then…The shy guys all jumbled themselves into a circle and started hiding the two items between them. When Luigi walked up, the shy guys turned to look at Luigi in a horizontal line with their hands behind their backs.

“Alright, enough is enough. Give it back to me now.” Luigi ordered.

The shy guys looked amongst themselves and started scratching the tops of their own masks with their nubs, almost like none of them had it anymore. But Luigi wasn’t falling for it. Not by a long shot.

“If you don’t…Then I’ll body-search each and every one of you until I find it.” Luigi told them.

They all looked at each other, looking almost confused or puzzled…almost like they didn’t know what a body search was. But their puzzling didn’t last very long…because at that moment, Luigi sprung right into action.

Luigi grabbed the first shy guy and started poking and squeezing the shy guy’s sides. “Where is it?” Luigi asked, feeling around for any pockets on the hooded cloak. Right away, the shy guy squeaked and started wiggling around, letting out little bursts of surprise laughter. “Where is it, huh?” Luigi asked with a smirk.

It let out its signature shy guy sounds in an attempt to say either ‘No!’ or ‘I don’t know!’, before covering its tiny mask hole of a mouth with its red nubs.

The other shy guys backed up slightly, shocked to see Luigi tickling their red shy guy friend! Was a ‘body-search’ just another word for tickling? Or did it mean something different? Was tickling involved in every body-search?! The shy guys quickly started mumbling amongst themselves, unsure how to navigate an unusually tame situation. They were used to more aggressive punishments…not tickling.

Luigi felt around the cloak hood and the neck before putting the shy guy down. “You don’t seem to have it.” Luigi said as he put the shy guy down. “Okay. Who’s next?” Luigi said with a smirk.

The shy guys looked at each other, unsure. Whispering between each other, Two of the shy guys quickly pushed a random shy guy out from the line. The shy guy that was pushed out, grew shocked and panicky as he realized he had been non-consensually volunteered by the others to go next! He turned around and tried to get back in the line, but the other shy guys all pushed him back out to Luigi.

Luigi walked up and gently grabbed the back of the cloak, before lifting the guy off the ground. “I guess you’re next in line?” Luigi asked with a smirk.

The shy guy wiggled around, and began visibly sweating as he struggled to get out of Luigi’s grip. Luigi giggled and wrapped his hands around the shy guy, before squeezing and feeling around for a flashlight or a rock. “Keep still, and this will go quick. Okay?” Luigi told him as he felt the outer part of the cloak.

The shy guy started letting out higher-pitched giggles, sounding a lot more feminine than the first shy guy. It attempted to stay more still, but still found itself kicking his feet all speedily.

Luigi quickly noticed this difference in laughter, and actually showed off more of a genuine smile in reaction. “So you guys have different kinds of laughter too.” Luigi reacted before feeling around the neck and the sides of the red hood. “That’s a little funny.” Luigi admitted as he felt the back of the neck and up the head of the hood.

When Luigi felt the back of his neck, the shy guy immediately lifted its shoulders up and kicked his feet a little quicker. It turns out this specific shy guy was really ticklish on his neck. But as much as Luigi wanted to learn more, he had to put him down once he came up empty-handed.

Luigi put the shy guy down. “Alright. You don’t seem to have my stuff either.” Luigi said to him. “Anyone next?” He said.

Quickly, another shy guy raised its nubs up into the air! This shy guy had a darker blue cloak on instead of a red one! And its mask was slightly crooked on its face too.

Luigi couldn’t help the chuckle that left his own mouth. “You really wanna go next?” Luigi asked.

The blue shy guy nodded rather eagerly, before running up and jumping up and down like a toddler wanting to be picked up by its mama. Only, this was an enemy that he was pleading towards!

Luigi laughed and shook his head with a smile as he caught the little shy guy mid-air, and started to feel his hands around the outer cloak for his things. “Do you know where my stuff is?” Luigi asked playfully.

The shy guy shook its head and wiggled around, showing off more of a kiddish laughter compared to the others. It wiggled around in his arms and kicked its little feet in the air. But when Luigi felt around the armpits, the shy guy flapped its arms and threw its head back, laughing a little bit harder! Luigi raised his eyebrows in surprise at first, not expecting such a reaction! But this silly reaction from the shy guy, had only made Luigi’s smile widen.

And right when Luigi got to the back of the cloak, he quickly saw a little glowy v-shaped light coming from the inner cloak! That could only mean one thing: The flashlight was turned on, and hidden within this shy guy’s back! Luigi moved his fingers to the top of the back bump, and started pushing down on the bump to make it move down the cloak. This only made the shy guy wiggle around even more, leaving the shy guy almost hysterical with laughter.

“Now whose bright idea was it to give the most ticklish shy guy the flashlight?” Luigi asked teasily.

The shy guys looked amongst themselves and shrugged their shoulders one by one. This reaction only made Luigi laugh more as he caught the flashlight that fell out of the bottom of the blue shy guy’s cloak. Luigi turned on the flashlight, and shined it on his hand to make sure it still worked. With proof that it did, Luigi put it into his pocket and looked at the others. “Okay. Now the rock.” Luigi told them.

The shy guys looked amongst themselves, attempting to find the rock’s location. But a few seconds later, the shy guys stopped looking and shrugged their shoulders.

“Still wanna do this the hard way, huh?” Luigi asked with a smirk.

The shy guys all looked at each other, before taking off running from Luigi.

Luigi widened his eyes and pulled out his flashlight again before turning it on and chasing after the shy guys. Luigi went to the left, and shined the flashlight on the backs of the shy guys to look for the rock. When he caught the far left shy guy, Luigi shined the light on the cloak to see if he could see any glowing. But when the flashlight came up with nothing, Luigi started tickling and feeling around for the rock on the shy guy.

The shy guy squeaked and laughed, letting out a long fit of laughter that Luigi could somewhat recognize from an earlier body-search. The thing was, this shy guy had already been body-searched. But there were 3 of the same shy guys in red cloaks, which made it hard for Luigi to properly differentiate them! So now, all of them are going to be getting the same treatment.

With the first red shy guy empty-handed, Luigi put him down and took off after the second red one. The second one was running with a light green shy guy beside him…a shy guy that Luigi had not searched yet. But determined to get the majority-colored shy guys taken care of first, Luigi focused on the red one.

Luigi picked up the second red shy guy, and shined the flashlight against every angle of the cloak. But when nothing turned up, he put the flashlight into his own mouth and started feeling for a rock from outside the cloak. The red shy guy let out a burst of laughter that Luigi hadn’t heard before. This shy guy sounded slightly lower-pitched than both the first, and second red shy guys combined. So…this was confirmed to be the untouched red shy guy from earlier!

But coming up empty-handed, Luigi put him down and took off for the last red shy guy. He knew this shy guy was likely gonna be empty-handed. But…maaaaaybe Luigi wanted to hear this shy guy’s laughter again…

When the man caught the third red shy guy, Luigi shined the flashlight on the different sides of the cloak. But with no shining light from the cloak, Luigi put the flashlight in his mouth again and started feeling for the rock with his hands against the outer cloak. The shy guy started letting out its higher-pitched giggles from earlier, followed by the kicking of the feet and the flapping of his arms. Luigi smiled and tickled this one for a slight bit longer, before once again turning up empty-handed, and putting it down.

Then, Luigi took off running after the green shy guy. The green shy guy turned around a bit when it heard footsteps, and screeched when it saw Luigi getting closer to him! The shy guy tried to go a bit faster, but didn’t see the rock that was in the way of his steps! Its foot ended up falling into the large rock, tripping over it and barrel-rolling into a tree nearby.

But as the green shy guy rolled on the ground before, something big and bright fell out of the shy guy’s cloak hood. It was pink, purple, red, different shades of blue, and slightly orange. Luigi slowed to a stop, and picked up the rock. It was his sodalite rock! This green shy guy had it this whole time! Luigi sighed with contentment as he held it in his hand. But when he felt ready, Luigi put the rock and the flashlight into his deep pockets and walked up to the tree.

Luigi’s shadow surrounded the green shy guy, making the shy guy worried. It looked up at Luigi with fear, visibly shaking and cowering against the tree. The tree branches were too high to climb up and get away from Luigi. So all it could do…was accept its long overdue fate.

Luigi wiggled his fingers at the shy guy, before picking it up and skittering his fingers all over the green shy guy’s sides. “Just because you involuntarily gave me back my rock…” Luigi poked around the shy guy’s belly, making it squeak. “Doesn’t mean you’re free from the tickle weegee’s wrath~” Luigi teased.

The shy guy wiggled around as much as it could, and laughed helplessly in his arms. All of these shy guys seemed to have one tickle spot in common: the sides. And this shy guy was no different. Amidst its wiggling, the green shy guy managed to wiggle itself so its body was facing Luigi’s chest. So when it realized what position it was in, the shy guy struck and tickled the closest tickle spot it could reach: Luigi’s neck.

“EEEHEEK!” Luigi yelped and did all he could to not drop the green shy guy. “Hehey! No tickle backs, you evil nutjob!” Luigi reacted, tickling its neck in retaliation.

The green shy guy leaned its head back and laughed while shaking its head, as its vulnerable neck was playfully tickled by Luigi’s nimble fingers. It was rather amusing tickling a shy guy. Luigi ended up having a lot more fun with the enemies than he ever expected. He would end up telling Mario about the experience, and though the environment was still scary, the experience would still help him overcome the fear of Bowser’s army creatures.

Though it would take a while for Mario to fully believe Luigi ‘tickled the shy guys’, he would later meet up with the dry bones that met Luigi when he arrived with the rock in his hand. These dry bones would confirm that not only did he tickle the shy guys, but the shiny rock actually kept him alive long enough to make it back to Mario to tell the tale.

Mario could not have been more proud of his brother for overcoming his fears…even if it meant he left without telling Mario where he was going…

#playful #body searches #sodalite #uv light #ticklefic #ler!luigi #lee!shyguys #just having fun #pretty rock go brrrr #the super mario bros movie

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fayefayefaye90 · 4 months

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i’m intrigued by all of these 👀 but if no one else asked about it yet, pregnant lesbians is at the top of my list!

This is actually a wlw thread series on my twitter account! It’s four parts so far, to be continued. But since this is a new platform I’m just going to post the whole thing here! Enjoy folks!

Stevie isn’t supposed to be this person.

It’s one thing to miss out on college, and another thing to fuck strangers in bars, and an entirely different, entirely worse third thing for Stevie to be nineteen years old and walking into the Planned Parenthood with a positive pregnancy test in her purse.

As it is, Teddie told her about this place, a big city clinic that makes her feel like she’s on an entirely different Earth from the one she’s always known–not a single face she knows, not an eye on her, so unlike every person she’s ever seen because unlike every soul in Hawkins, they don’t know her name.

Teddie offered to go with her too, and she’s regretting not taking her up on it. Something about Teddie’s skinny shoulder sitting just an inch or two above hers makes her feel more comfortable, like someone else is in charge for once, but that’s why Stevie couldn’t do it—she needs to do this alone.

The front desk checks her in and when the nurse asks And what can we do for you today, dear? Stevie isn’t sure what to say. She wants to know her options. Actually, what about just dying? Dying doesn’t seem terrible, and she has the bizarre thought that if she could check in for a routine Death treatment, one that’s covered by Medicaid in the state of Indiana, that would be just the thing, rather than confront any of it. What will her parents say? Her old friends? Fuck, /Keith/?

He already thinks she’s an airhead, judgmental despite the fact she’s seen him lick cheeto dust off of his own work vest.

She wants to know her options. Mostly she wants someone to tell her that it’s okay–that maybe she fucked up, maybe she needs help, and advice, but it’s okay, it’s going to be okay.

If she could scrape out the inside of her brain, get rid of the grime, the sludge of other people’s feelings, other people’s fears and thoughts, she’d know that what she most deeply wants is to stop, to feel this. To give in to the knowledge that there’s the beginnings of a little person inside of her, and /feel/ it. Her body–this body that can’t seem to do much of anything since high school, nothing but house her scrambled egg brain and run a decent mile–is growing a life, nurturing it, blowing it up like a little ball of dough that’s going to flounce outward and become a whole cake—one that can see, and blink, and hear, and sniffle, and think.

She wants to ask the nurse–is it wrong that I can see it? That it feels so right, like maybe the only thing that’s ever been right? Because it’s so wrong, of course it’s wrong, the whole thing! I think I remember his name—y’know, the guy—but you could tell me it was something you made up and I wouldn’t know any different; fuck, it could’ve been Bob Hope and no wonder I don’t remember any condom—and I’m supposed to want something more, right? I’m supposed to wait for the white dress, white picket fence, white gold and diamond on my finger, something more than this…

…but what could be more than this?

She was supposed to wait, but she didn’t wait. And she doesn’t die. She leaves the exam room with vitamins and a stack of brochures. Looking down at her stomach, it seems the same, maybe a little bloated. Six weeks, they said. Thirty-four more.

Imagining this tiny ball of mucus that’s becoming the smallest little human, she breezes through the waiting room as if in a dream, forgetting those eyes who’ve never seen her before.

It was Teddie’s idea.

Jeff wasn’t a fan, really. They’d just been friends for so long, and there was something frantic, uncomfortable about the whole thing. Teddie could tell she was being weird. But she just had to find out.

“I just need to know,” she’d say, pretty much every day, every morning of that stifling, hot, boring summer. Getting off of night shift at the plant alongside her uncle, wired, not being able to sleep. Trudging down the lane, over to Jeff’s, where his mom had already poured her a coffee—every morning. “I just need to feel it once, and then I’ll be fine.”

“This is a way bigger deal than you think it is,” Jeff would say.

“Untrue,” Teddie would lie. She’s always been a bit of a misfit, sexless and strange, but if she goes much longer without knowing what it feels like to intimately touch a man, she thinks it might do real damage, permanently alienate her. It’s a big deal, to her. So she’d say, “It’s an extremely little deal. It’s nothing. And like, I trust you! You’re my friend.”

“That’s the problem, Teddie,” Jeff finally says, one day. “I just think you trust me a little too much!”

“Impossible—”

“It’s… it’s important, the first time! And what if it’s… what if it happens, and it’s not what you wanted?”

“What do you mean?” she looks at him, sincere. She’s playing dumb; she knows she is, and she doesn’t normally do this, but he can’t keep saying no, “I’m literally asking you to do it.”

“And… and then what? What if you don’t like it? What if it… doesn’t work?” Jeff bites his lip, holds his elbows, thumps one heel in a dancing rhythm on the porch. They both know what he means. Her plan. The whole, kickstarting her interest in guys thing.

It’s a harebrained idea that’s gnawed at her for weeks—since she graduated high school at the age of 21, still a tender and awkward virgin with a deep seated fear of this /thing/. It’s something little—this inexperience, this absence of interest—but with every passing day it has greater power to turn her into something big: a freak, an alien, something too weird to ever truly fit.

Especially… especially since she started working at the video store. Especially since she’s been spending so damn much time with Stephanie Harrington.

She can’t listen to Stevie talk about dating, about picking up guys anymore—she can’t keep feeling this way—this heat, this mortification, whenever she hears about it, whenever she remembers how different they are, the two of them. They should be the same, in this way. They should be the same with this, even though they’re so different. Teddie’s having difficulty parsing her feelings about the whole ordeal, but this will /help/, she knows it.

“But what if it does.. work?” Teddie says, plucking the thread where her t-shirt is unraveling. “If I just knew what it was like, and then I could like, y’know, I would get a boyfriend? I wouldn’t be acting like this anymore. I could just like, be normal about it! And I promise I won’t fall in love with you, just because you’re my first time, or whatever.”

Jeff snorts, audibly, rubbing his face. “Yeah, no, I’m not worried about that.”

“Good!” Teddie says, face flushing. It’s the heat, she thinks. That’s why she’s so sweaty, and her heart rate is doing a weird lurch that she hates. It’s why she’s so uncomfortable.

“I still think you’re insane,” Jeff says, “but if it’s this important to you—”

Teddie’s head whips in his direction, her tangled hair spinning like the blade of a helicopter.

“Wait, seriously?” she asks, then cheers, “Jeff! Yes! Thank you! Thank you!”

Jeff sighs, accepts the hug that’s offered.

So, they do, later that day. Sex. And It’s fine. Just—fine. Teddie doesn’t try to kiss him, doesn't want to make it weird, but he stops her partway through, holds her face and kisses her anyway, closed lipped, like a reassurance, and she’s weirdly grateful; it feels the friendliest thing he’s ever done for her.

But, yeah, Teddie learns: sex is fine.

It’s what they find out afterward that’s not fine.

Not for the first time, Stevie is jealous of Robin.

Because Robin can eat anything without gaining any weight. He has the longest eyelashes Stevie has ever seen on a human. And Robin is very obviously, without question or doubt, a gay man.

Since they were children, people have been making comments about Robin—almost never kind. Robin, whose only friends are girls. Robin, who has the lisp, the voice. Robin, who has the walk. It’s obvious on Robin: the whole gay thing.

When they were in school, Robin was called every slur in the book. Their peers, they did the wrist thing. They’d joke about him owning heels and dresses. Robin never played sports; Robin failed gym class and had to do summer school because he wouldn’t touch a locker room. He’s paid for it in missing teeth: the whole gay thing.

He’s incredibly strong; he’s had to be. Everyone knows.

No one knows about Stevie. No one knows what she’s come to learn about herself.

She still sleeps with men, and it’s fine. It’s fun. It’s enough to keep it away—the thoughts she’d rather not explain to anyone. She’s hoping the baby takes that away actually: a form, a curving shape she hasn’t been able to stop thinking about. It’s a shape that has more recently developed particular features, a certain face.

As if reading her mind, Teddie runs into family video with her hand over her mouth.

Eddie is trying. She’s really trying to hold her life together.

It’s an old story: up late, never early enough. Never early enough to make the coffee without spilling something, never early enough to get dressed without having to change something. Never early enough to drive to work without speeding, never well fed enough to take her giant multi vitamin without wanting to hurl.

She’s running into Family Video with her hand over her mouth. Stevie barely has time to look at her funny before Teddie darts to the bathroom to throw up.

Teddie’s mortified when Stevie follows her in. Wide eyed, between hurls, she has something stuck to her lip. She gags at the feeling and wipes it off before sticking her head back into the toilet.

“Dude, don’t come in here!” Teddie says, then spits into the toilet.

“Relax, Munson,” Stevie says, voice low and calming; she’s crouching down to rub Teddie’s back. Her thin fingers work across Teddie’s neck, gathering and holding her hair in a low ponytail.

“Yknow, It’s funny? I’m the pregnant one, but you’re the one over here puking.”

“You haven’t puked?” Teddie says, deeply upset by this. “You’re the one who’s supposed to puke!”

“I know,” Stevie chuckles, rubbing the spaces in Teddie’s spine with the other hand as she retches, dry this time. There’s hidden strength in her hands, gentle strength like that of a long standing tree, or a grandmother who’s rubbed more children’s backs than she can count.

Teddie spits, again, feels the tenderness in Stevie’s hands which is too much, too real. Stevie’s breath coming over her shoulder is too sweet smelling, too kind to be in this video store bathroom. It’s like she doesn’t even know what Teddie’s doing.

Teddie feels the bizarre urge to make this funny. If it’s funny, it’s not anything else.

“You have a thing for this?” Teddie says.

“What?”

“Y’know, like a fetish? Girl on her knees in the video store bathroom—”

Stevie wrinkles her nose, but she’s smiling, Eddie can hear it in the way she says, “ew.” Score one for Munson.

“Because it would be fine if you did,” Teddie says, on a roll now, spitting the last of the ick from her mouth. “I’ve heard pregnancy does weird stuff to you.”

“Well,” Stevie says, with a laughing grin, “maybe you’re pregnant, too.”

Teddie snorts, regrets snorting, feeling the cold mucus in her throat make a sour resurgence. “Fat fucking chance,” she says.

“Not getting laid, Munson?” Stevie says, something too casual in her voice.

Teddie goes cold, feels herself pale.

“Oh, shit,” she says, meeting Stevie’s eyes with a grimace. She feels the panic, coming on. “What am I going to do?”

Teddie gets her own trailer a few days before she has an abortion.

Just the idea of something growing inside of her—something alive, not jus bacteria but a whole animal with a brain, the idea that something like that would feed off of her energy until it was ready to emerge from her in a bloody show that could kill her—it doesn’t exactly fill her with maternal longing. It’s more like something from a horror movie that’s also taking place in outer space.

Now, Steph could do it. She could make it look metal: ripping a child from her womb, strong and defiant and glistening with her own blood, ready to attach the suckling infant to her heavy breast, roaring with pain and triumph as bonding chemicals surge through them both. Steph could do it.

Teddie’s not Steph.

She tells Jeff beforehand—not for any reason but guilt. It was her idea, after all. She’s the one who said it probably wouldn’t take. It was her first time and she was on top—it wasn’t supposed to take.

They’re sitting on her new front porch, just behind Wayne’s trailer. She can see the window of her childhood bedroom, where she had sex with a man for the first time. The only time.

“Oh thank god,” the man (the boy, really) says, head in his hands, relief coming off of him in waves. Teddie’s not trying to have a baby either but she’s a little insulted.

“My parents…” he continues, “man my parents would kill me. After making me marry you, they would kill me.”

“What?” Teddie rears back, not expecting that, “Oh god, what the fuck?”

Her mortification must show on her face.

Jeff looks like he’s going to laugh, but he almost always looks like he’s going to laugh. That’s part of what she loves about him.

He says, “Hey, jackass, I’m not trying to marry you either—“

“What, like you and me? Church basement? Like with the dress and the suit and everything?”

“I’m serious. Like the plague. Mr. And Mrs. Jones.”

“But they wouldn’t have to know,” Teddie interrupts, “if I kept it.”

Jeff looks at her, incredulous. He sucks on his braces for emphasis.

“Oh yeah,” Jeff says, “like you’re just going to have your Black baby running around the trailer park with your Black best friend, and nobody would know—”

Despite herself, Teddie starts to laugh. Jeff’s relief and her own bubble up like soda fizz.

“You’d be running after him like ‘Get back here Eomer!’ And I’d just be sitting here, sipping coffee, like that baby has nothing to do with me..?

Teddie gets up for more coffee, still laughing.

#wlw steddie

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