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ghostskiss · 9 months

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Handle It

Pairing: Simon Ghost Riley x F!Reader WC: 5.1k Summary: Reader is taking a shower and someone decides to crash the party. Warnings: 18+ Exhibitionism (risk of getting caught), shower sex (kinda), SUB SIMON, teasing, begging, sub to dom to…sub, finger sucking, oral, fingering, penetration, overstimulation, spit, creampie

Hot water beads down your back. Well, maybe that’s a bit too generous. It’s hardly trickling out of the showerhead above you, and the water’s lukewarm at best. But it feels great, your eyes are closing, your muscles are relaxing, and you almost forget that it’s a communal shower. That anyone could walk in and join you at another showerhead, there’s several in here, meant to get a group of people clean to save time. Time’s important in the military, you know this. So does everyone else, but there’s an unspoken rule. If someone’s in the showers, you don’t join unless absolutely necessary.

Which is why you’re allowing yourself this moment. You’d announced to the group that you were hitting the showers after the operation. And true to your word, as soon as you’d stepped out of the vehicle, you beelined it to the building. Soap joked about joining you, earning a punch from someone in result. You hadn’t cared to look behind you to confirm who it was, instead you’d waved a hand over your shoulder, acknowledging that you’d heard him, but wasn’t threatened by his constant yet harmless flirts. It was how you two communicated. It was a nice break in the violence and mayhem Task Force 141 found yourselves in. Even if Ghost and Price rolled their eyes at the banter, you could tell it eased their nerves at times. It’s hard to hold onto humanity when you see the worst of it day end and day out.

Getting the bar of soap into your hands, you rub it against your skin, ridding yourself of the dirt and grime from today’s work. It’s normal to get dirty doing what you do, and yet no matter how you wash yourself, it feels as though you’re never clean. You’d scrubbed your skin raw once, after a mission, coming out of the showers with irritated skin. Still. You were never clean. Today didn’t feel like that. The operation went well. There was no killing, no torture, and for once, it was an easy day. You want to savor this feeling, knowing that today went right, how relaxing the water is, feeling somewhat clean despite the past.

A knock rings through the showers, bouncing off the walls. The soap slips through your fingers as you jump with sound, the relaxing feeling you had now long gone. The knock has authority to it. It has impatience. Gritting your teeth, you rinse off quickly before turning the knob to shut the water off. You leave the poor soap on the ground, moving to the cement wall separating the showers from the door of the building.

“What?” You call out, a little irritated. Sure, you’d been in here for a bit longer than normal. But it was the one time you’d actually felt…nice.

A deep voice from behind the closed door comes to you. You resist an urge to roll your eyes. Ghost.

“Been in there a bit. Other people would like to clean themselves before heading in for the night.”

This, you do roll your eyes at. He’s right. You’re hogging the shower, but there’s an unspoken…thing you have against Ghost. He’s stoic and a bit miserable to be around if you’re being honest. He’s too serious, all the time, he never likes to have fun, and if you and Soap are going back and forth, he’s got to voice his displeasure. You secretly think he’s jealous. You think that he either is jealous of the relationship you have with Soap, or he’s jealous of Soap. Probably the former since you two can hardly stand each other.

Sighing out, you cross your arms over your naked chest. Right, you’d almost forgotten where you were.

“Well,” you start out, a bit snarky, “there’s always room, Lt.”

You’re joking, obviously, already moving to wrap a towel around your body. Without waiting for whatever response your lieutenant is trying to muster up, you cross the space from the cement wall to the door, hand gripping the handle to wrench it open.

There he is, in all his glory, towering over you. He’s ditched the mask he wears in operations or important meetings, donning his comfortable skulled balaclava. In fact, he’s changed out of most of his gear. Bare hands, black Henley shirt rolled up to his elbows. Of course, his lower half is clothed in his usual black pants, and he still has his boots on. Yet he looks more naked and vulnerable than you do in your little white towel. He looks at a loss of words.

A playful look crosses your features, a smirk teasing your lips as you prop a hand on your hip. Before you can get a word out, Ghost shifts forward quickly with a grumble tumbling out of his chest, pushing you back into the building with his presence alone. You frown a bit as you move backwards to accommodate his size as the door behind him closes you both in, confused as he glares down at you.

“Christ, could you not waltz around in nothing but bloody a towel?”

Another attempt to not roll your eyes comes over you. “What’re you, shy? It’s not like I’m completely naked.” You gesture at yourself; it’d be as if you were wearing a strapless dress. Granted, the towel is tiny, you’re wet from the shower, and you’re definitely not wearing any panties. Still, you had no idea Ghost was such a prude.

“Really?” Ghost’s gaze trails hotly down the front of your body. Suddenly your face feels hot. He’s never once looked at you like this. Like he’d…

A shaky breath escapes you before you laugh it off, “If you can’t handle me in a towel after shower, I doubt you’d be able to handle being around me in the actual showers.” You jerk a thumb over your shoulder as you watch his gaze follow it behind you. He can see the room of showers over the wall. You think you see his jaw clench under his mask.

This is bad. You’re jokingly teasing him the way you and Soap talk. This is uncharted territory, and you’re not sure you can keep the act up. With Soap, it’s harmless fun. You both know you’re not interested in each other. It’s easy to try to get a reaction out of each other, to see who says the most ridiculous shit first. It’s a stupid game. With Ghost, it’s dangerous. It’s nerve wrecking. It’s serious because he’s serious.

Suddenly he’s looking back down at you. You try not to fidget as you stare back at him. You can’t read him. You’re about to talk to break whatever this tension is, about to tell him the showers are his.

“No, I probably can’t.”

Did his voice drop an octave? Why was it making your skin heat? What was going on right now? You feel like your brain is malfunctioning. Your gaze drops down to the broad slope of his shoulders, and down his frame, distracted a bit. Of course, he’s attractive. You’d be insane to not think so. Even if you’ve never seen his face. It’s the way he holds himself, it’s the way he’s built, it’s his damned voice, and his eyes and everything else. But he’s your lieutenant for Christ’s sake. He’s mean sometimes. He’s ruthless, a brute, a –

“Let me see. I want to try. To… handle it.”

You freeze, eyes shooting back up to his. “You -?”

His chin dips to your towel, “Take it off.”

For a moment, you’re both watching each other. Ghost’s got his eyes on yours, unwavering. He’s really serious about this, you realize. Your thighs are clenching together now, trying to relieve the ache. You were joking, you think, about him not handling it in the showers. Now you’re thinking maybe you’re the one who can’t.

Shakenly, your hands raise to the knot tied at your breast. Your actions stop for a moment, silently waiting for him to tell you to stop. The command never comes. You can’t believe you’re doing this, bearing yourself for your broody and moody higher up. For him. All because you don’t want to back out on what you started. Suddenly, you want to prove him wrong. That he can’t handle it. That you’re not affected at all by his words or actions, or more importantly his inactions. The towel drops.

It’s loud with how silent it is in the room. Who knew a damp towel could be so loud? Your gaze doesn’t leave his, holding it, even as you stand bare in front of him. A smirk quirks your lips. He’s avoiding looking at you. That’s how he thinks he can move around the situation at hand.

Testing him, your hand brushes against your own collarbone, trailing slowly -- tantalizingly slow. Still, his eyes never wander from your own. So, this is how you could play games with Ghost. It’ll be fun to see him break.

“You’re not looking,” you start, stating the obvious.

“Never said I had to. Only said that I could handle being around you.” He shrugs, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Like he won the game.

You laugh a little at that, and watch his eyes ever so slightly dip to your lips before coming back up to your eyes. Your own hands are wandering your body now, groping a bit at your chest. His hands clench at his sides.

“Are you going to take a shower, Lt?” A breathless noise leaves you as you ask, your fingers pinching one of your nipples. Fuck him. You’re so turned on right now it’s ridiculous. He doesn’t have to look. Just the thought of being here in front of him while he’s fully clothed doing this, while the two of you are alone and anyone could walk in –

“No. And quit that.” He growls out, knocking your hand away from your breast. He still hasn’t looked, but you’re guessing he’s getting a view from his peripherals.

“Quit what?” You feign innocence, your hand that’d been knocked away now dips in between your thighs eliciting a soft moan from your lips. “You said you’d try. If you’re not going to take a shower, you can watch.”

Ghost has no words for you now, his pupils dilating before your very eyes. Spreading your legs a bit wider to get a better reach on yourself, you continue. Slow pressing circles on your clit, your arousal slicking loudly in the air. Your free hand goes back up to your tits, to continue groping, pinching, pulling.

Finally, he breaks. He breaks when your pussy squelches around your own fingers, his burning gaze trailing down your body to the hand that’s pulling such noises out of you. A groan sets loose from him, and you shudder from the mere sound.

“Kneel.”

Ghost’s eyes shoot back up to yours in question.

“Kneel, I said. You can get a better look.” Your tone is set in stone. Despite the burning ache you’ve got, the need for him to touch you, you feel in control.

He hesitates for a moment before lowering himself down to the ground, knees pressing against the cement. His eyes have yet to leave yours.

“You can look but don’t touch.” Your breath hitches, arousal seeping into your very being seeing him like this. Listening to your commands. You watch his hands clench on his thighs, his attention going back to your pussy. Your breath hitches at his stare, feeling the heat of it. He doesn’t have to touch for you to feel his attention. It’s making you sloppy, messy, and wet. You keen, a brief thought of asking him to touch you, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction.

Staring down at him as your fingers continue to tease yourself, you watch him just as intently as he’s watching you. He seems fixated. You wonder if he’s drooling in his own mask. The front of his pants looks tight. His hands are clenching and unclenching on his thighs, his shoulders shuddering when you make a noise in the back of your throat. You watch him tense as you ease a finger in yourself. Your clit is throbbing, aching, begging for attention, you’re teasing yourself just as much as you’re teasing him. Slowly pumping the one finger in yourself, you press another one in, mewling out as your hips buck a little upward.

“Let me taste you.” He rushes out suddenly. Ghost’s voice is gravel, scrapping across your body. Your head nearly tips back at the sound of it, another pitiful noise leaving your mouth.

Stay strong. Stay strong. You shake your head, unable to give him an actual answer as your fingers create a devastatingly slow pace, slick coating your fingers and thighs.

“Fuck. What’ll take? Let me taste you.” He’s demanding now, knuckles white with how hard he’s gripping the material over his thighs.

You pant, trying not to stammer. “Beg.” It comes out stronger than you feel right now. Core burning with the need to come.

“Please.” He grits out through his teeth, angry eyes coming up to your glassy ones.

“You don’t sound sincere.” You laugh breathlessly, shaking your head again. Your fingers pause, coming out to press softly against your clit. If you press any harder, you have no doubt you’ll come. You don’t want to give it to him yet. Ghost watches the action, a growl coming from him.

“Please,” he tries again, looking back up at you to see if it was good enough. It’s not and you tsk at him. “Please, let me taste your pussy. Let me put my mouth on you. Please.”

The last plead is strained, almost a whine. Your fingers dip back in, curling as you pump them again. Your head falls forward a bit with a whine of your own and you try to gather your bearings. “How are you going to taste me with your mask on?”

Quickly, he tugs it upward, only exposing his mouth. Christ. His mouth. He’s got a scar running down his lips. His jaw is clenched, and you curse whoever created him. He’s handsome, even if you’re only seeing the bottom half of his face. You watch his tongue tease his full bottom lip, his mouth opening into a soft pant. He’s eager. You catch another whine in your throat, fingers leaving your pussy to press against his mouth, covered in your own wetness. He opens his mouth, latching onto them, sucking and licking, taking anything you have to offer.

You watch with a newfound feeling. Here you have your lieutenant on the ground, kneeling and begging, sucking your fingers like it’s his God given right. Like he has something to prove. That he’s desperate enough to be debased to nothing. He’s moaning at the taste of you, following your fingers as they leave his mouth, like he’s not ready to stop cleaning yourself from them. He’s tilting closer as he watches them disappear back to your throbbing sex.

“No,” you tell him, stopping him from following your fingers all the way, “that’s all you get.” You moan out, your fingers wet with his spit now circling your clit. You need to come like this, having him at his knees in front of you.

“W-wait. Please. I’ll do anything. Fuck, please. Let me give you what you want, I can make you cum. With my mouth please –”

His begging sends you over the edge, not stopping as you cry out loudly, pussy clenching on nothing as your fingers circle and circle. It’s long and crippling, and you almost feel your knees buckle, your free hand gripping the cement wall behind you. Fuck, he’s not shutting up. It drags it out, hearing him whine and beg, a man who you thought could never be like this. You rip your hand away from yourself, panting, thankful for the wall behind you holding you up. Your thighs are quivering and wet from the orgasm, breath trying to catch up to your pounding heart.

Ghost is quiet now, looking up at you, waiting for your next move. His mouth parts, like he’s going to start up again and you hush him.

“Clean me up.”

You barely have the sentence out before he’s shooting forwards, hands gripping your thighs to make room for himself. He pulls one of your legs over his shoulder, tongue latching onto your already overstimulated clit. You cry out, hands shooting up to his masked head, trying to pull him away as he laps at your cream.

“A-ah, wait, Simon –” You start, squirming, trying to get away from his mouth and tongue. You feel him smile, the bastard.

“Think you can tease me like that? Huh?” He growls as he laps at you, tongue not missing an inch of your pussy. His words vibrate through you, not bothering to really pull away to talk. He’s violent in the way his mouth attacks you. “Think you can just do what you want to me?”

You stutter, about to apologize until he starts to add his fingers to the mix. Two thick fingers of his slam into you, pumping up as his tongue flicks your clit. You cry out, tears in your eyes as you take it. He’s going to make you come again, this fast. Too fast. You feel dizzy, vision fuzzy.

“Making me sit in front of this pretty pussy and not letting me touch or taste it.” He groans, and then chuckles as you bare down on his fingers, clenching hard. “Oh, you gonna come again pretty baby? Come on then.”

He’s mean. Meaner than you were to him. You’re panting, quivering, and aching, your pussy making obscene noises as he assaults all of your senses. You know you’re coming before you feel it. Like a delayed reaction. Gasping and bucking, he’s saying something again that you can’t register because your hearing leaves you, your sight leaves you, every sensation and thought is gone as you cry out, coming and coming again. Somehow in the midst of it, his fingers and mouth leave as you come back down to your body, and he’s holding you up, thank God. You doubt the wall behind you would’ve helped at all. Your fingers are clenched on the material of his mask, and as you blink down at him, chest heaving, you see his wet mouth smirk.

A flash of fear goes through you. This was the Ghost you know. The ruthless, cold, domineering, Simon Ghost Riley. Not the man that’d been on his knees begging. Not the man who’d let you command and tease him. He sets down the leg that’d been over his shoulder. You’re not sure if you’re still completely all together. He stands to his full height, and you shiver, trying to sink yourself back into the wall behind you as much as you can. His hand comes up to your jaw, gripping it gently as he tilts your head back.

“Open.”

You obey, lips parting, mouth opening. Nothing could prepare you for what he does next. He leans into you, pressing up hard against you, lips barely hovering your own. He spits. Fluid enters your mouth, and you moan, swallowing it up. It’s your own arousal, sweet and warm and oh. Your wet lashes flutter shut as Ghost licks the seam of your closed mouth, lapping at you before he nips and bites and kisses you. The kiss he’s giving you isn’t gentle. It’s consuming and you cry into it as your hands find purchase on his shoulders, sliding up to his neck to haul him closer to you. He answers your cry with a groan of his own, his hands cupping your ass to lift you up. Your legs come around him, locking your ankles behind his back to keep him close. Your sensitive pussy is pressed and rubbing against pants, the feeling abrasive and raw but you can’t stop from grinding against him.

“Tell me what you want. Tell me and I’ll give it to you.” Simon mutters against your lips, licking and biting still. You’re breathless and whimpering against him, his words going straight to your core as you move against him. He’s helping you, moving with your hips, matching you move for move. You’re distracted, unable to give him an answer as you kiss him back, your trembling fingers sliding a bit under his mask to grasp the back of his neck. He hisses out in pain when your nails dig in. “I’ll give you anything baby, please. Just say the words.”

“I – I want…” you gasp, your clit pressing against the seam of his pants. You can feel his length hard and heavy against you.

“Fuck, please. Please tell me.” He’s begging again, rutting his hips up against you, hands keeping you still as he continues.

“I want you.” Is all you can muster; all you can think about saying. You swear your brain isn’t working correctly. Even before this started. You must’ve hit your head during the mission.

"Want me? Want me to what?” He stops moving.

You groan out in frustration, head tipping back a bit before you look up at him. “Please, Simon. You’re teasing me now.” You’re not sure you like how quickly the tables have turned.

Ghost laughs a bit, breathless himself. You think he’s going to drag it out further until he sees the pout furrowing your brow. “Alright. I am. I’ll give it to you.” He still keeps you wrapped up against him, one hand holding you, the other going in between the two of you. His knuckles brush against your bare sex and you moan lowly, watching him unbuckle his pants, pulling his hard cock out. Precum is dripping down the length of it and your throat dries at the sight of him.

Concern must be showing on your face with how big he is. Another chuckle from him, “You can take it pretty baby.” Your concern dies out as he slides the length against your wet pussy and you bite down on lip, trying to contain your noises. You want him in you, size be damned. He runs the tip up and down once more before pressing against your entrance, pushing in slowly. This time, you can’t contain the low moan you have. He gives it to you slowly, pumping his hips up into you, letting you adjust to his size. It’s stretching you open, and you feel like he’s splitting you in half. It’s heavy and deep and throbbing –

“Oh.” You let out, almost surprised it feels so good. Addicting. You feel drunk.

A sadistic laugh comes from the man in you, his cock slowly pumping into you. He’s being nice, giving it to you this softly. His hands are pulling you back onto his cock, pinning you against the wall and his hard body. Your legs tighten around him as your nails dig into his shoulders.

“That’s it. It’s all yours, isn’t it?” Ghost dips down to nip your lips as you whimper. “Been wanting this pussy wrapped around me for so long, baby. Fuck.” He moans lowly as you keen at his words, clenching around his girth. “Teasing me when you have no idea what I’d do to you. For you.”

He’s going slow, dragging this out as long as possible. He’s pressing in deep, rolling his hips before pulling slowly back, letting you feel every inch of him before starting all over again. It’s driving you insane. It feels like it’s going on forever, his slow thrusting. He rocks into your soaking cunt, easing his throbbing cock in you smoothly and repeatedly. Ecstasy has taken hold of every fiber of your being. You hardly feel conscious, as his words lull you into lust, his cock pacifying you into drunken state. He won’t shut up again as you cry against his lips.

“Pussy feels so good. So good. Fuck. You can have this dick whenever you want baby, just say the word and it’s yours.” He moans lowly, the sloppy sounds of your pussy and his hips thumping into you with languid strokes are overpowering your thoughts. His words make your pussy clamp down on him and he moans again, not afraid to let you hear how good you’re making him feel.

“Si—” you gasp, mouth falling open against his, trying to pull him up closer to you.

“Tell me. Tell me, sweetheart. Fuck.” He rasps against you, his hips stuttering slightly at the sound of your broken moans.

“F-fuck me. Please fuck me. Simon, please.” You beg, not afraid to be pulled down to your knees like he had been. To be debased to nothing just as you had done to him.

He’s not just pliant, he’s willing. Eager again to please you. You know he could’ve done what you had to him, teased you, made you beg more, made you want and want and need. But he gives it to you, just like he promised he would. Your pussy flares as his thrusts get heavier, deeper, faster, rougher. It’s destroying you as much as it’s freeing you and your eyes roll back a bit. God, you’re going to cum again.

A knock sounds. Not unlike the one Ghost pounded on the door earlier. You gasp, trying to stop running to the hurdle you’re launching towards. Your body doesn’t get the memo, or doesn’t care, and it certainly seems Ghost couldn’t care less that someone is right outside the door. The man makes a frustrated noise, at you or the knock, you’re not sure. He clamps his hand down over your mouth as you try to contain the noises you’re currently making. You want to tell him to stop, someone’s right there, but he keeps fucking you. God, he’s so mean and cruel and –

“Lt?”

Your heart shudders in fear. Soap. No, God, no one can see this. Ghost fucking you against the wall, completely clothed, unrushed. Despite the fear of being caught, you feel a whine catch in your throat as you thrash again Simon’s relentless fucking. He hushes you quietly, slamming roughly into you now. You stop a squeal, but just barely, a loud yet pathetic squeak leaving you as euphoria bursts through you, pussy convulsing around his cock.

“Just a sec, Johnny.” Ghost throws over his shoulder, a smile playing on his handsome face. He hardly sounds phased even when just moments ago he was the one loudly moaning into your mouth. He hardly sounds winded even with the rough thrusts he’s delivering into you, fucking you through your orgasm. You claw weakly at his chest, angry at him, still coming down from the heaven he just gave to you.

You think Soap leaves, you’re not sure, but Ghost moves his hand from your mouth, back to your ass to bring down onto his cock. He’s using you now, making you meet him thrust for thrust, drilling your G-spot with such precision that your vision fades for a second.

“No, look at me. That’s it. Good girl. You’re so pretty baby. Such a good girl. You gonna let me fill you up now? Haven’t I been good enough for you? Huh?” He’s mocking a bit, but serious. His own form of a joke that you have no power or brain to call him out on. All you’re feeling, all you’re thinking about is his cock ravaging you from the inside, still, overstimulated. Your body hardly cares. It’s right there, right at the edge, ready to jump and to give him your all. You’re too dumb, blinded with pleasure, staring up at him as he growls down at you, throbbing cock ready to give it to you when you say the words. Maybe he really is under your command after all.

A whine comes from you, frantically nodding to him, hands scrambling on him to try to find solid ground while you’re in a different time and space with the fucking he’s giving you.

“No, you have to tell me baby. Fuck, tell me I’m good baby. Tell me I was good, and I can fill you up.” Simon’s begging, whining lowly in the back of his throat, his hips getting sloppier and shorter, pounding into you.

“You’re good. You’re good. Simon, you’re good. It’s so good. Please, pleasepleaseplease come in me.” You’re begging, sobbing, actually, tears streaming down your face as you try to catch up with your body. It hurts, it hurts so fucking good, you make a long and agonized noise against his mouth, he’s kissing you again, sucking your tongue, running his against your teeth, pulling sucking overstimulating –

Simon makes his own devastated noise, a low and shattering groan of pleasure and you feel it just as you’re coming, milking him into you. His cock is surging into you, pumping hot cum with each deep thrust. He’s grinding into you, fucking you both through your orgasms, making you see stars as you cry into his mouth, fingers tearing into his back through his shirt. His hips finally still after what seems to be eternity, your pussy still clenched around him. He keeps himself deep in you as you both try to gather your bearings as well as your breath. You’re staring at each other, panting, chests heaving. He brings a shaky hand up to your cheek, cupping it as he runs his thumb over your tears. The tenderness makes your heart clench. All he’s done tonight surprised you. He leans down to place a kiss against your lips as tenderly as the thumb that stroked you. You kiss him back gently, a little worried where this was going to leave the two of you.

He pulls back, eyes bouncing in between your own. He seems to sense your worry and he sighs, pulling out slowly. You almost want to cry at the loss of him. Ghost sets you down steadily, keeping his hands on you as you wobble, legs weak. You hold onto him and look back up, ready to question what the hell this meant. He shakes his head a bit and nods towards the showers.

“I think I can handle taking a shower with you. But it’s gotta be quick baby.”

Shocked, you stare at him incredulously before you burst out into a terrible laughing fit. You’d almost forgotten how you got here in the first place. You watch his mouth quirk up into his own smile before he starts to laugh a little too. You grab his hand, tugging him with you towards the showers.

“C’mon then big boy. Show me how you handle it.”

#guys. i'm sorry for my absence #i had to get out of this man's chokehold i'm not kidding #and then you know what happened?#THIS came to me in a dream #A DREAM #CALLING SIMON “GHOST” BECAUSE HE'S FCKIN HAUNTING ME!!!!#hope you enjoyed kiss kiss love love #simon ghost riley #cod mwii #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you

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calumfmu · 2 months

Text

spread thin

Summary: You and Steve have been best friends for the entirety of your lives, always platonic and nothing more. As graduation approaches, you find yourself wishing that something would come out of this decades-long relationship. During a recurring Friday movie night, you confess your feelings to him, not realizing the man had felt the same way the entire time.

cw: 18+, mdni, smut, fem!reader, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, unprotected sex, fingering, creampie

2.9k+ words

The boy in front of you was beautiful. He was everything that you had pictured in a man, yet nothing of the sort that you imagined yourself to be with. He was handsome, charismatic, funny-- every good thing that could come with a boy.

But he wasn't yours.

Steve was everything and everyones before the label of yours could be applied.

"yn?"

His voice sounded throughout the fluorescent room, it's white walls allowing you to be caught in the midst of your thoughts. You met his eyes, his dark brown searching for clarification in the color of your own.

"Sorry, just..." your hands tightened around the broom, glancing down at the foot of tile you hadn't realized you were sweeping repeatedly for the last ten minutes. "A lot on my mind, graduation and all."

He stood there for a second, nodding as his hands graced the cash register in front of him. He had a hint of something on his face, something you couldn't recognize from his normal expressions. He suddenly shrugged, shaking his head to himself as he paid attention to the machine.

"Well... I'm just about done here," he supplied before closing the drawer. "Whenever you're done, I was thinking that we could head to mine? Movie night, drinks?"

You nodded, smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. This was normal between the two of you. You have been best friends since kindergarten, it was always SteveandYn and YnandSteve.

He smiled back at you, walking around the corner.

"Well, let's get out of here, then." He took the broom from your hands, placing it in its respective supply closet. "I found a copy of that new horror movie on VHS, and you're going to love it."

As you two closed up shop, you made your way through the mall. His car was parked in the back of the lot, giving you ample time to think of what had been plaguing your mind lately. These feelings for Steve hadn't came out of nowhere, they had been building for the last couple of years as he became more popular. King Steve as they called him. You held back the eye roll of the remark, knowing that people didn't understand the true character of the man.

Calling him something like that only emphasized his woman-user ways, but did not touch on the sweetness he had to him. He was painted as a player, someone that did not care about women. Deep down, you knew that wasn't true.

His shoulder bumped into yours, shaking you of your thoughts. Steve opened the passenger door, holding his hand out as he did a faux bow.

"M'lady."

Giggling, you rolled your eyes and settled in the car as he made his way over to the driver's seat. As he got situated and started the vehicle, he glanced over at you.

"What's going on? You've been so... distant lately."

Sighing, you turned your head towards the window.

"'S nothing, Steve."

He pulled out into the main road, leaving the mall further and further into the distance. "You've been so weird, it can't be nothing."

"I'm fine." You smiled through your teeth, covering the true gnawing at your heart that plagues you. He spared a glance in your direction, huffing as he knew you were lying.

"Sure."

The rest of the car ride was quiet, only the sounds of the radio quietly buzzing some song in the background. Steve tapped his fingers to the beat as you focused on the drive in front of you, cars passing as he made his way to his house. With every block, the dim street lights hit your face, exposing more and more of the true emotional state that you were in. It was becoming too much to hide now.

You hadn't noticed as he pulled into his driveway, a dark house with no one home in front of it. Your passenger door suddenly opening startled you.

"Jesus, Steve," you mumbled, getting out as you smoothed down your work uniform. "Give a girl a warning, yeah?"

"Oh, quiet. 'S not like you would've heard it anyways," he had a grumpiness to his voice, something that only confused you even more. What was wrong with him?

You followed him through the front door, lights turning on as he made his way to the kitchen. A beer was placed in your hand, and you looked down to inspect it. The cheap kind, PBR. So it was going to be one of those nights.

Steve loosened the collar of his uniform, letting it hang open as he cracked open his own drink. He was still staring at you, as you leaned against the counter.

"You're really not going to tell me?" His brown eyes were huge at this point, his bottom lip jutting out as he pouted in your direction. "Please, yn?"

You took a swig, grimacing at the bitter taste of the beverage.

"'M just stressed about graduation," you answered, twirling your drink around as you focused on the exposed part of his chest. A tuft of hair poked out there, you imagined what it would feel like between your fingers.

"What about it?"

You broke the focus, walking closer to him so you could take a seat on the counter beside him. He turned his body towards you, forearms leaning on the white tile as he looked up into your eyes. This angle allowed you to see into the deep brown of his irises, the overhead light hitting in a way that made your breath catch in your throat. They were the same eyes you remember from childhood, his long lashes that framed them always so right.

You took another sip of the drink in your hand, thumb playing with the tab at the top of the aluminum. His hand reached out, touching the top of your thigh where your navy blue shorts ended.

Nervousness settled over you as his thumb began to rub small circles on the exposed skin.

"Come on, you could tell me. Anything, remember?"

The look in his eyes and his begging was hard to resist. You had always told Steve your secrets, your worries, no matter how ridiculous they seemed to be.

You sighed, ready to let this burden off of your chest. Now or never, yn, what's the worst that could happen?

"I'm just worried about what's coming next," you said, finishing off your drink this time. The empty can hit the tile next to you, ringing throughout the kitchen. "Things changing, people growing, leaving."

His brow furrowed, confusion crossing hit features. He stood up, settling in closer to you. His eye level was right below yours this time. You could smell his cologne mixed in with the faint smell of ice cream. So enticing, yet you had to ignore it.

"Are you talking about us?" His hand left your thigh, moving to place his hands on either side of your waist. His waist sat in front of your crossed knees, body leaning slightly as he looked into your eyes. Heat settled into your core, your body reacting to the proximity of him between your legs. "You know, nothing's ever going to change between us. We've always been best friends, always will be."

And there it is. The pit of your stomach gnawing as that realization settled over you. Best friends.

A familiar sting hit your eyes as you began to blink it away. You thought you were being inconspicuous, but he noticed.

"Hey, hey, hey." His voice was a whisper now as he stepped closer, pushing your thighs apart. His hand reached up to touch the side of your cheek, thumb brushing under your eye.

Concern was etched all over his features. He searched your eyes for an explanation, his calloused hands rubbing over the delicate skin of your face. He was so close now, you could lean in and kiss him. Feel the true pout of his lips against yours.

"...Steve," you muttered, shaking your head. "I was just hoping tha- you know, what, nevermind."

He was patient, waiting for your words to come out as the two of you sat in silence. Your mind was racing, thoughts of King Steve with a million other girls floating around. Why tell him when he can whoever? You've been friends for years, why would he want to hear this now when there has been years where something could have happened.

"Tell me."

You sighed, taking a deep breath as you closed your eyes. It was easier to think with them shut, the beautiful boy in front of you no longer being a distraction.

"I was hoping things would stay the same between us," you blurted out. Your heart was racing, word vomit on the tip of your tongue. "Things would stay the same in college, but I know they won't because you're going to be focused on the next interesting person, the next beautiful girl who's not me and is so much better than me."

He didn't answer, but you felt his hand leave the side of your face. The pit at the bottom of your stomach growing more. You kept your eyes closed, finding comfort in the darkness.

You chose to continue, "I just hear everyone talking about King Steve this and King Steve that, and I just can't help but think about how much worse it will be once you're no longer forced to be friends with me."

Suddenly, you felt a mouth on yours, slightly chapped lips brushing against yours quickly. Your eyes flew open, staring at the boy in front of you.

Steve had a smile on his face, eyes drifting over your shocked face. Your mouth opened and close as you find yourself at a loss of words. You found the words, a single syllable escaping your lips before he shushed you.

His hand returned to his cheek as his lips found yours again, moving with a fever that was missing previously. He seemed more urgent, needy in this moment as his hands began to explore your body.

Before you knew it, your legs were opening wider, inviting his body even closer to your core. You felt drunk, despite the single drink running through your veins. It was intoxicating, feeling his mouth against yours and his fingers in your hair.

Is this real life? You couldn't help but think you were imagining it all.

Steve breaks the kiss, fingers dancing at the bottom of your shirt, threatening to lift the hem there.

"Can I-?" He began to lift it as you nodded vehemently, lifting your arms. It came off your frame, exposing you in your white bra. The cool air hit your body, quickly replaced with the heat of his body.

His lips finds your jaw, slopping making his way down your neck. Pants escape your mouth, your vision becoming blurred as his fingers find your waistline. His thumb dipped into the band of your pants, teasing to expose your edge of your panties.

"S-steve, please."

All you saw was a flash of his hair as you were pushed back slightly, the pants beginning to slip down your hips. You adjusted the way you were sitting, allowing Steve the ease to free you of the restriction. He leaned down slightly, placing sloppy, open mouth kisses to your chest bone, hands returning to their residence of your hips.

You placed a hand in his hair, pulling him back up to meet your lips. He smiled through the kiss, nipping at your bottom lip. Your legs wrapped around his waist, bringing him even closer as you felt his bulge rub against your heat.

You muttered a fuck as he began to rub against you, cock hard against the restriction of his own pants.

"Want more, baby?" He whispered, hand coming up to grab at your breast, squeezing in all the right places. You threw your head back in ecstacy, hips shooting up to rub against him even further. Your hands found his own waistline, pulling as you struggled to get them off.

"Patience now, my love."

His sweet words made you ache even more, grinding your heat against the shape of his cock. The free hand remaining on your hip moved, brushing over the wet spot you were making in your panties. A small shout escaped you, nerves throbbing at the feeling of his thumb brushing against your clit over the thin cloth.

You looked at him, all his glory as he stared hungrily down at your panties. This thumb was brushing over your clit through your underwear, watching as the wet spot increased.

"Is it that, baby," he breathed, glancing up at your spent face. Nodding, you spread your legs further, mewling as his index finger dipped them to the side. He brushed over your fluttering hole, paying attention to the way you arched your back.

Eyes closing involuntarily, your breath hitched as you felt his two of his fingers playing at your entrance. Your thoughts jumbled, focusing only on the feeling of his digits slowly pushing in. You mewled, white heat crossing over your body as they pushed in further, beginning to slowly pumping in and out of you.

"Fuck Steve, m-more." You couldn't hold back anymore, your hand reached up to grab his at your breast. Blinking your eyes slowly, you stared into his hooded ones, watching as he removed himself from you. He fumbled at his waistline, pushing his pants low enough to free his cock, swollen and dripping with need.

You reached out to it, pulling him closer. Your lips met again, a desperate connection of the moment as his fingers rake through your hair. He tasted like spearmint and the remnants of his beer, breath heavy against yours as his cock rubbed against your center.

He pushed your white panties to the side, his cock in hand as it rubbed against your wet entrance. You couldn't get enough, arching your hips so you could feel him closer, hard and firm.

He guided himself within you, stretching you wide. You couldn't tell if it was him or you at this point, throbbing with desperation as your hips bucked wanting to feel him closer.

Steve stopped at the hilt, hips flush against yours as your legs locked behind his thighs.

"Good?" He asked, breath heavy at this point and words incoherent. He went back and forth between squeezing his eyes shut and trying to stare into yours. Your tightness throbbed around him, clouding his thoughts with the feeling of wanting to take you fast and rough.

"Yes, baby, more."

You pulled him even closer to you, the hook of your ankle rubbing against his pants bunched up at his thigh. Only now did you realize, he was still wearing his uniform, wrinkled and bunched up, exposing only his groin and the bottom of his stomach. The desperation of this moment fueling him to see you in your glory, wanting to have access to you as fast as possible. You watched as he reared his hips back only to push into you once more, slowly but feverish in their movement.

He began to roll his hips, urging moans and pants out of your mouth. He kisses them away, swallowing them as you become louder with each thrust of his hips. The pleasure fills your body, drawing you closer and closer towards that breaking point as his hips continue.

His hands are at your hips, fingers gripping your ass as you sit on the counter, sliding back and forth with each movement he makes. His nails leave little half moon marks as his knuckles grow white, fucking into you relentlessly.

Ah, fuck and yes, baby and you like that escapes his mouth, mouth agape as he watches you unfold in his grasp.

You're almost pissed off at him, at yourself, for not doing this sooner. But the thought escapes your mind, the feeling of euphoria dripping over you as he brushes over something deep inside you. Shock waves took over you as a white heat came over you, exploding and tingling throughout your spine.

Your mind was clouded as you rode through the shock waves, pulsing around him as he thrusted deeper, closer towards his own peak. A low, guttural noise escaped him as you felt him release deep inside. His chest heaves as he rides through it, burying his face into your shoulder. A bite mark was left in its place, the feeling of stickiness between your thighs as he slowly pulled out of you, leaving you with a small moan.

He brushed over your slit one more time, over stimulation coursing through you with a small yelp.

Steve's face was buried into your shoulder, nipping and kissing at the bitten skin there as the two of you struggled to catch your breath. His skin was slightly damp from the high, his chest rising and falling against yours.

"Can I tell you something, yn?" His voice was in a whisper.

You nodded, losing all words. He chuckled, leaning his head back so he could look you in your eyes.

"I knew you felt that way," he supplied, coy smile on his face. Your eyes widened as you hit his chest, laugh erupting out of him. "I felt the same."

"Steve!"

"I was just waiting for you to make the first move. I can't be King Steve when I'm with you."

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #fanfic #steve x reader #steve harrington x you #drabble turned fic #my writing #I've been thinking how much I love this man #and I had to put it down in words #hope you enjoy #kisses

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eurydia · 3 months

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"The only time I’ve felt at home is when I’m with you."

my latest Tavlor one-shot, Home, is now available on AO3 ❤️ it's an explicit work, please see the tags for detailed info.

[Home on AO3]

thank you once again to @rainyssafespace for the beautiful reference: [x]

title is a song by Mumford & Sons

#tavlor #bg3 #zevlor #tav x zevlor #zevlor x tav #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 fanart #bg3 zevlor #oc: saoirse #I've been meaning to draw one of these hand kiss artworks I've been seeing a lot!#i couldn't find the original pose so this is slightly different #thank you rainy for all your gorgeous photos <3 #i hope you enjoy this as much as I did c:#i love drawing him and Raph in candlelight #baldur's gate 3

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stellariah · 6 days

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foolish heart, common tongue — Mammon x reader

⊹ word count: 1.8k ⊹ content: sfw, slightly suggestive, fluff to angst to fluff again, light marking (love bites), Mammon is a little possessive but not in a creepy way, Mammon calls you "sunshine", reader/MC is referred to as you/your. ⊹ warnings: none. ⊹ a/n: hi. I love Mammon. Sorry for making him sad here.

Mammon thought he was in love with the sun. He has been trying to convince himself that is why his heart feels so hollow.

It was the way that its rays shimmered and danced along your sleeping frame in the early morning.

Your little snores and sighs had stirred him awake. He woke up disoriented, still not entirely believing that you were really there—that he was really there. But there you both were, tangled in your soft sheets and the warmth of each others’ embraces in your bed in the Human World.

He spent a long time just watching you sleep, the sunbeams shifting from a gentle orange to pale amber to a vibrant yellow as the minutes slipped by. They paint your skin and hair like a canvas. A living, breathing work of art.

It was the way that its rays sparkled in your irises, making them glisten like tiny pools of molten gold, as you blinked away the sleep. You shined brighter than a pile of a million Grimm—more than any gem or jewel or coin he’s ever seen.

It was the way that its warmth made your skin feel beneath his lips as he made a trail from your chest to your neck, to your cheeks to your lips, to fully wake you up. He loved the way your heated skin tingled his lips.

You giggled at first, still in a sleepy stupor. But as his lips travelled higher and higher, your laughter faded to soft whimpers. When you moaned his name and thread your fingers in his hair, he thought his heart would beat out of his chest. He craved you. He was greedy for you.

“Good morning, Mamms,” you sighed, your eyes fully opened.

“Mornin’, my sunshine.”

You pulled him into a searing kiss, lips to lips, and your sun-warmed hands traced along the marks on his chest. He was so lost in your touch that he didn’t feel you flip him over. You were stunning wrapped up in your sheets, but somehow you're even more so with your smiley face above him, illuminated by the sun.

It was the way the faint pinky-reds and oranges and purples of the sunset sky illuminated the love bite he made on your neck as you made dinner that evening.

The mark itself was faint on your skin, but the sunset streaming through the kitchen window streaked the tender punctures with its inky plum, lush coral, and soft scarlet. He glided his fingers along the expanse of your neck, narrowly avoiding a swat from the spoon in your hand, feeling the tiny indents and watching the colours shift as he disturbed the rays. He lowered his head to trace it with his lips and tongue as he tugged the fabric of your shirt down to reveal more of your skin—of his marks on his human—to his greedy fingers and mouth.

“Mammon, I’m trying to cook,” you chided, trying and failing to wiggle your way out of his grasp.

“I can’t help it. I need ya.”

“You always need me.”

“Never,” he whispered, pressing another kiss to your skin between your newly exposed shoulder blades. “Enough.”

“You’re insatiable, you know that?” you laughed as you spun around in his hold, flicking the stove off as you went.

“Maybe you should stop making it so easy to love ya.”

“Mammon,” you said, as you cupped his face in your hands. He leaned into your touch, nuzzling his nose along your palm. “I want you to love me.”

It was the way that the sun was gone when his heart was ripped from his chest.

He knew that he and his brothers could not stay in the Human World forever. But, when the night of their departure came, he didn’t expect that you would be staying.

You told him it was to continue studying with Solomon and developing your magical abilities. He thought that was bullshit. You could keep studying in the Devildom. You argued. He yelled. You cried. He cried, too, because there was no way he could change your mind.

The moon shone across your face as he stepped towards the portal that would take him home. He hates the moon for making him see you so sad.

He watched as you hugged each of his brothers, exchanging whispered promises to stay in touch and make it home safely as they stepped one by one through the portal. He watched as your face crumpled when you stepped towards him. He still couldn’t believe that you were not coming with him. How was he supposed to leave you here?

“Mammon, I love you,” you cried as you wrapped him in your arms.

And like the coward he is, he pulled himself from your embrace and stepped into the portal without a word. He watched you fall to your knees, sobs wracking your body, before you disappeared.

He’s awake with a jolt—his head colliding with his textbook—and you’re not there. There’s no sun either.

He had fallen asleep in class again. It’s been months of this recurring nightmare. As he rubs his eyes, he smears fallen tears across his cheekbones. The pages he has fallen asleep on are wet and warped.

He doesn’t miss the sun. He doesn’t love the sun. It’s always been you. He loves you, but he’s ruined everything.

“Is it the same dream again?” Satan asks quietly from the desk beside him.

He just nods refusing to raise his head. He didn’t need to explain his tears anymore. His brothers all knew. Asmodeus casts a knowing look from across the classroom and Leviathan pats his shoulder as he exits. Mammon wants the ground to swallow him whole.

He manages to gather his books and exit the classroom, but his feet just won’t work the way they should. He stumbles several times as he tries to get down the hallway to his next class. After tripping again and slamming into a set of lockers, he resigns, weary frame and broken heart finally crushing him to the ground. Mammon curls himself into a ball and sobs until sleep finally takes him.

The next time he wakes, Mammon is in his room in the House of Lamentation. He doesn’t know how he got there. Honestly, he really doesn’t care. His bed is comforting and your sweater he has wrapped around his pillow still smells faintly of you.

He opens a bleary eye to quickly check his D.D.D. There’s a text from Beel letting him know that he and Lucifer found him and carried him back to his room and that Belphie was coming to check on him. He stamps out a quick “thanks” and then tucks his nose among the threads of your sweater. He tries to fall asleep again, but an incessant banging on his door disrupts him as soon as his eyes get heavy.

“Who's banging on my door?! Get lost!”

“Mammon, it’s me,” Belphie calls from the other side, the wood panel muffling him. “I think you are gonna want to come out here.”

“Oi, I said fuck off! I’m tryna sleep!”

The door splitters against the wall with the force Belphegor uses to fling it open. The sound of the wood cracking and the flood of hallway light make Mammon dizzy.

“Belphie, I ain’t telling ya again. Get out,” he warns, but his youngest brother persists, yanking him from his bed. Mammon hisses, but it does nothing to dissuade Belphegor.

“You’re coming with me. Stop being a baby,” he scolds as he carries Mammon out of his room.

“Oi, I’m not a-”

His retort dies in his throat at the sight of you down the corridor. Your hair has gotten longer and your eyes are blown wide, but it's you. His human.

He’s dreaming still—he has to be. There is no way that you’re here. Mammon pinches his arm and rubs his eyes as Belphegor sets him on his feet.

“It’s not a dream, Mammon,” Lucifer says from somewhere behind him.

There is no sun in the Devildom, but he has never felt warmer or brighter than he does right now, watching his soulmate run to reach his waiting arms. As soon as you are within reach, he grabs you, pulling you tight against his chest and nuzzling his face along your neck.

“Sunshine,” he sobs, voice broken but so full. “You’re here. You’re really here.”

“I’m sorry for being away for so long.”

“When do ya have to go back?”

“Mammon, I’m not going back.”

“What?”

“I’m not going back. At least not for any extended period of time. Being away for that long was torture.”

“You’re telling me,” he chuckles as you swat his chest playfully.

By the next breath, he has you up off your feet and in his room, slamming the fractured door behind him to muffle the cries of protest from his brothers.

“What happened to the-”

“Ah, Belphie got angry 'cause I wasn’t coming out and broke it,” he replies before dropping you unceremoniously on the bed. With a brief incantation and a swish of your wrist, the door is as good as new and the sounds from the corridor cease entirely.

“What did ya do?”

“Magic,” you laugh as you wag your fingers in the air. “So we can have some time alone, if that’s okay?”

“I love you,” Mammon blurts out, as your expression morphs from giddiness to pensiveness as you wait for him to continue. “Sunshine, I was a coward. I can’t believe I didn’t say it to ya back before I left. I’m so sorry. I love you. I’ll love ya forever.”

“Mammon, you’re not a coward. We should have talked more about my stay. It was my fault.” Mammon shakes his head and you sigh. You’re just as stubborn as he is.

“Now get your ass over here. We have months of cuddles to make up.”

He is in your embrace again in an instant. He missed the feeling of your body wrapped around him—the smell of your shampoo as he lays kiss after kiss on your forehead, along your cheeks, and down your neck. When he finally reaches your lips, you’re crying and he wipes at your tears with the pads of his thumbs.

“I love you, Mammon. More than anything. And I’m not going anywhere without you again.”

Though the Devildom was dark and sunless, he has existed here for millennia without some burning star. He has his sunshine in his arms, and this time, he is never letting you go.

©stellariah 2024 | do not copy, repost, translate, or feed my work to AI

#obey me #obey me mammon #mammon x reader #obey me mammon x reader #om mammon x reader #om mammon #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me swd mammon #obey me fanfic #obey me fanfiction #if you #if you've seen this fic before...no you haven't lol #i love this lil guy so fucking much it's unreal #i wanna kiss him so hard on the face #anyway...hope u enjoyed #sio writes

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yaekiss · 10 months

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#Mailroom Open!　──　hey my darling <3 letter delivery for kaeya and i’d love to have a yandere w/nsfw reply back! any petnames are good with me, i promise <3 letter below the pink!

“To my dearest, Kaeya,

It’s almost shameful how you have me wrapped around my finger. There’s only so much a man can do when you fill my mind, and even in work, I can’t help but imagine what you’d be doing, how you’d let me shower you with all the affection such a jewel like yourself deserves. A day spent without you feels sacrilegious nowadays with how you’ve carved your place into it.

How are you faring back in Mondstadt? It must be a chore with so little to do without me there with you, but I know the wine will always be sweet and the flowers always in their lively beauty (though it can’t compare to yours, I’m sure.) I hope you’ve kept an eye on Diluc: you know how he works himself, so have him take it easy every now and then. He runs the tavern you love so much, after all.

I can’t see you soon enough. May the gods bless me so that I can be back home sooner than I know.

— Your love”

( in a box containing the letter, there’s a bottle of regional wine intricately wrapped with a gold bow, alongside a bouquet and a lace choker. you know i had to do it <3 )

꩜ Letter Content: Dom! GN! Reader x Yan! Subby! Kaeya, no gendered terms for reader, Kaeya calls you "my heart", mentions of alcohol, mentions of blood, unhealthy and obsessive relationship from Kaeya, lmk if I missed out anything ! ꩜ Delivery Notes: Phew! He sure replied fast, it's almost as if he knew you were sending a letter to him! :3c Anyways, I wonder what he replied with? ꩜ Wanna write a love letter yourself? Check out it out here!

In return, Kaeya sends back a box as well, no bigger than the envelope stuck to the top of it. The deep royal blue envelope’s material is glossy and pearlescent, holding it under the moonlight produces a faint shimmer, one that reminds you of his eye.

Upon opening the letter, your senses are greeted by the waft of Kaeya’s perfume, the same one you gifted to him months back when you returned to Mondstadt from yet another arduous work trip. Eyes scanning over the contents of his reply, the words are written in outstanding but legible cursive, impressive penmanship (tsk, always a showoff). His love letter reads:

“Addressed to my one and only,

Much thanks for the presents, my heart. You truly know my tastes, the wine was magnificent and went down smooth, almost impeccable. The only thing that could improve it was if you were there as well. I do so dreadfully miss you too, I find myself sighing whenever I reach out for your hand only to remember you’re away in Fontaine for work. Are you sure I can’t convince you to leave your job? I could take care of you, you’d never find yourself needing anything, other than me, of course.

I digress. Back to the subject at hand, Mondstadt is, well, the same as always. Nothing much to report about. My days are immensely duller without you around, obviously. Diluc’s still not much fun to be around but I suppose he’s been well, so no need for you to… (There’s some words scribbled out here with a squiggly doodled arrow pointing to it, saying “Ignore this! :)”) fret over him at all.

It’s just that… I can’t bear to be away from you, my heart. You say I have you wrapped around my finger but it seems to be the opposite. Since you entered my life, it was as if you were Orpheus: coming to rescue me, but unlike the tragedy, I won’t lose you, and you won’t lose me. Not even the gods above could keep me from you. Not one moment does my mind stray from the thought of you and how I need you close by and the way I can’t bear to… (The words are scribbled out again, this time it’s messier, shaky lines uncharacteristic of his usual neat strokes. Another squiggly arrow points to the dark mass of ink, saying “Ignore this too! :)”)

All I want to say is, we are much closer than you might think, my heart. I’ll keep this short, I’d hate for you to bore of me.

Counting down the days till we truly meet again,

- Kaeya Alberich -

P.S. I have a picture in the box reserved for your eyes only, enjoy ♡”

Removing the lid of the box, a vial on a gold chain catches your eye, it glistens, almost as if beckoning you to wear it immediately. Its contents are a deep red and swishing it around reveals how it clings to the sides of the bottle. Not wine then. There’s a tag hanging from a ribbon tied around the clasp, in Kaeya’s signature handwriting it reads, “So I’ll always be around my heart.” Flipping it around, there’s 2 reddish-brown thumbprints on the back, stamped so that it looks like a heart.

After putting the accessory on, you move on to pull out a smooth card stock from the bottom of the box. How scandalous. The cavalry captain is shown, knees tucked under him on the bed as he’s clad in lacy white lingerie, hands on the sheets in front of him as his arms push his tits up to accentuate them. A white garter belt wraps around his thigh and fuck, the tip of his cock is peeking out of the sheer ivory fabric, precum already drooling from his slit. The bouquet you gifted him is in the shot as well but what really draws your attention are the dribbles of wine cascading from down his lips to his chest, staining some of the white lace a deep crimson. To top it all off, he’s wearing the lace choker you sent him, how obedient!

However, the more you look at the photograph, the more off putting the atmosphere becomes. The background looks suspiciously like the rooms of the hotel you’re currently staying at. The lighting is the same hue. The furniture matches up too. Everything is strikingly similar, right down to the carpeting. Squinting, you can just about make out the room number on the keys captured in the shot.

It’s the room next door.

Thanks for reading! Consider supporting me on kofi if you enjoyed this or check out my other works hehe ♡

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chio-chan2artbox · 4 months

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Minutes later…

Take the Leap - Part 5 (End)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

#perryshmirtz #perry the platypus #heinz doofenshmirtz #human perry #Heinz deserves love #finally Heinz gets a hug #agent p #phineas and ferb #no kiss because in this story Perry hasnt realize he has romantic feelings for heinz #heinz thinks its a one side love ;(#hope you enjoyed!

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chimchiri · 2 years

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In his room, Sal is going through a stack of love letters he found, trying to stay as quiet as possible.

Small request/gift related to this ask for @killemwithkawaii (+ anon who was genius enough to ask for love letter content <3). My god did I like that ask.

There are few things better than blushing, completely flustered Sal, barely able to handle his adrenaline-pumped heart. Give me ALL the emotions, ALL the stuttering and ALL the trembling!

#here's your gift!#hope you enjoy it as much as I loved drawing it :>#especially love and embarrassment #Feeling the shivers down your spine from being so flustered #getting adrenaline waves #is all just *chef's kiss*#sally face #sal fisher #cw yandere #?? eh I'll tag it anyway #my art #my god I'm such a sucker for grandiose emotions #make it INTENSE!

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carnivalcarriondiscarded · 5 months

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okay, this is a halfway to 7k unedited fantasy au snippet! Out Of Context as usual!

some warnings for this one: blood, gore, major character injury, graphic description of injury <3 i had fun w/ it not sorry <3

The front door slams open, stalling all conversation inside. A flash of lightning illuminates the two forms huddled in the doorway, one considerably larger than the other.

Barnaby staggers a half-step inside, dripping water all over the floor. That alone has Howdy putting down the glass and moving across the bar to better assess the situation. Eddie is struggling to support Barnaby’s listing weight, and both of them are clutching at Barnaby’s belly. They’re both soaked through.

Someone gasps, and the folks seated nearest to the door stand and back away, muttering in alarm. Howdy’s stomach plummets. Some of the water puddling on the floor is too dark to be just that. Barnaby’s front, under where his massive paw is clutched, is drenched dark as well.

Eddie catches his eye - he looks wild with fear.

“Out!” Howdy thunders. “Everyone out! I don’t care about your tabs or if you’re not done - if you have a room, go there, if you don’t, scram!”

Some people cast him and Eddie dirty looks, but they start to get up, grumbling all the while. Howdy couldn’t care less. Not when Barnaby is leaning so heavily on Eddie, his breathing so labored that Howdy can hear it amidst the shuffle and scrape of patrons leaving.

“What happened?” Julie yells, running across the room from the neighborhood booth.

“Make sure everyone gets out,” Howdy says, redirecting her. Julie doesn’t look happy about it, but she complies. The patrons start to clear out faster with her aggressive ‘assistance’. Howdy throws his drying towel off to the side and nearly vaults over the bar to help support Barnaby. He reaches to sling Barnaby’s other arm over his shoulders-

“Don’t!” Eddie cries. He doesn’t let go from the wound, and Barnaby cringes away from Howdy with a breathy echo - “Don’t.”

“Why not?” Howdy says, panic rising in his throat. He looks closer at the wound Barnaby and Eddie are holding - this time he has to swallow down bile. Glistening, blood-slicked pink pulses under their hands. Barnaby whines softly. He’s terribly pale under his fur.

“Everyone’s gone!” Julie announces.

Howdy snaps out of his horrified trance. He points at the bar. “Clear a spot on the floor for him on the floor, make sure we have room to work.”

Julie makes a frustrated noise but complies once again. Howdy slips around to Eddie’s side and trades places with him, but Eddie doesn’t let go of the wound. The sudden weight makes Howdy stumble, but he quickly widens his stance and starts shuffling them to the area Julie is clearing. They help Barnaby lower to the ground, and every pained whine and gasp is like an arrow to the heart. Eddie whispers apologies all the way down. Barnaby’s free paw leaves scratches in the bar’s cherry wood.

“Ed, I need you to get my supplies from my room,” Howdy says, rolling up his sleeves with quick, expert flicks.

Eddie looks at him like he’s crazy. “I can’t let go!”

“I’m here to take your place - four arms are better than two, now get!”

Eddie still hesitates, but slips away once Howdy puts all four of his hands where Eddie’s measly two were. It’s hot, and wet, and - and -

It becomes immediately clear that this is a wound they can’t fix, not without an extraordinarily talented healer.

“Julie,” Howdy chokes out, “get Poppy.”

“Okay,” Julie says faintly, right behind him. She slowly backs away, and all at once sprints for the front door. A burst of fresh, rain-filled air blows inside before the door closes again. The cold shock makes Barnaby flinch and gasp.

“Hold on, Barn.” Howdy forces himself to look at Barnaby’s face instead of the pulsing guts bulging from the gash someone sliced across his belly. The soaked fur under and around it looks purple. “Help will be here in a jiff, so don’t you go falling asleep on me.”

“Tryin’,” Barnaby wheezes, and his voice has never sounded so much like music, “tryin’ not to. It’s - stars, it hurts, Howdy-”

“I know, but you gotta hang in there, pal. Poppy will fix you right up.”

“I…” Barnaby makes a wretched noise that sounds like a sob, “I don’t wanna die.” He whines, a leg weakly kicking out as his guts twitch. “M’ not ready, Howds, m’ not…”

“You’re not going to die,” Howdy insists even as Barnaby’s blood soaks his hands and sleeves.

He doesn’t want Barnaby to die, either, but who knows where Poppy is - there’s no guarantee that she’s home, and even if she is, her abode is clear across town. Julie is a fast runner, but in this weather… with such a distance…

Barnaby is going to die.

Howdy will do his damned best to keep that from happening.

Clattering precedes Eddie sprinting around the corner. He checks the bar hard, but doesn’t fall or flinch. He takes the hit and slides to his knees by Barnaby’s side and opens the pack. Howdy almost reaches out to rummage through it himself, but Barnaby’s paw starts to slip from the wound.

“No no, none of that.” Howdy nudges it back into place with his knee and tries to jostle Barnaby with the same motion. “Eyes open and paw up, Barn.”

“Tryin’,” Barnaby whispers. His eyelids flutter in a vain attempt to stay open. His breathing rattles.

Howdy doesn’t need to tell Eddie what to look for, and thank the heavens for that, because Howdy doesn’t think he can look away from Barnaby’s pained features, much less form words that aren’t incoherent prayers to any god that will listen. Barnaby’s paw slips, and Howdy has to lunge to keep his insides from becoming his outsides. Just his hands aren’t enough - he needs to use his forearms. There’s so much of it.

Eddie scoots forward and holds up a potion, and Howdy nearly howls in anguish. “Not that one! The healing potions - the red ones!”

“I know that!” Eddie snaps just as viciously, which is enough of a shock that Barnaby gains a moment of startled clarity. Eddie uses it to coax him to drink the golden energy potion. “I have some healin’ powers of my own - I can buy him more time than your bruise busters, and you’re fresh out of those, anyway!”

Out?

Howdy stares at his pack in horror. That’s right. He hasn’t restocked - oh, he’s a fool! He allowed himself to grow complacent and reliant on Eddie and Poppy’s healing. He has no time to thoroughly curse his inaction, as Barnaby’s paw comes back up to the wound, and his back arches as he wails his agony. The potion kicked in. Eddie quickly shoves his paw away again and holds his hands to the corner of the gash, his palms glowing orange.

“Oh, oh no,” Barnaby sobs, his boots and claws scraping wood, “Ed, stop-!”

“I’m sorry,” is all Eddie says. He shoves Barnaby’s paw aside when he tries to pry Eddie away. Barnaby grabs for the nearest thing with his other paw, which happens to be Howdy’s thigh. Howdy bites back a pained hiss at the feeling of claws digging sharp through his pants. The cold water saturating Barnaby’s paw soaks the fabric in seconds, creating a contrast to the pinpricks of hot welling up under the claws.

Howdy eyes the healing glow and the strain on Eddie’s face. It won’t be enough - Howdy doubts it will give Barnaby any time at all. The thin corner of the gash slowly knits together, but the rest of it is too wide, too deep. The only reason Eddie can heal any of it at all is due to how clean the slice is. The blade that created this wound must have been freshly sharpened, or enchanted. Howdy can tell at a glance that it cut through Barnaby like a knife through marmalade.

Eddie heals the other tapered end. He and Howdy exchange a glance - Howdy sees it in his eyes that the healing is just a platitude. Blood continues to soak Barnaby’s pants, Howdy’s, their hands, Howdy’s clothes, the floor.

Abruptly, Howdy is keenly aware of how quiet the tavern is. Rain drums on the roof and thunder rolls outside. The fireplace crackles. How long will it take to scrub the blood out of the wood flooring? How long will Howdy spend staring at the scratches etched into the bar?

“How- Howdy,” Barnaby says. He isn’t gripping Howdy’s leg as hard anymore, but he gives it a weak squeeze. “Gotta tell ya - hng - somethin’. Shoulda… told ya sooner, but-”

“Save it for later,” Howdy says quickly. “You can gab all you want when you’re better.”

There likely won’t be a later, or better, and that’s half the problem. Call Howdy selfish, but he won’t let Barnaby make this hurt more than it already does. More than it will. He would rather live with a might’a than a could’a.

Barnaby knows it, because his eyes mist up and he nods weakly. “Yeah. When I’m… when I’m better. Can I ask a fa-favor?”

“Anythin’,” Eddie murmurs. Howdy had forgotten he’s there.

“Find Wally for me?”

Eddie lays a bloody hand on Barnaby’s arm, steely determination flashing in his eyes. “We will. I swear it on my patron’s light.”

“That’s a…” Barnaby pauses to grimace and swallow thickly, “a big promise, Ed.”

“I’ll make sure he keeps it,” Howdy says.

“M’ sure you will. But, but… if Wally really is gone… hey, I’ll say hi to ‘em for ya.” Barnaby manages a shaky half-smile. “At least that’d be one - one good thing ta’ come outta this, huh?”

Howdy’s composure cracks. He chokes down sobs as he slumps over Barnaby, uncaring of the awkward position or the insides sandwiched against his front, drenching his apron and shirt with blood. He hides his tears in Barnaby’s cold, waterlogged ear. Barnaby uses what little strength he has left to turn his head, weakly nuzzling the side of Howdy’s face. His breath is warm. Weak, but warm.

Distantly, Howdy hears Eddie curse and ask “Where are they?” The clink of his armor fades, and the door opens just enough to let in the scent of rain. Howdy hears more than feels Barnaby breathe it in. As close as they are, Howdy can hear the wet rattle in Barnaby’s chest.

Should Howdy do something to make him more comfortable? Would Barnaby’s herbs ease his pain? Even if it would, if anything would, Howdy can’t let go. That would hurt him more, and Howdy refuses to give up that tiny sliver of hope that something can be done.

The door slams open to let in a thunder of footsteps. Howdy snaps upright, and he’s certain that if he didn’t have a job to do, he’d collapse.

“Oh dear, oh-” Poppy squawks loud enough to make everyone cringe, her feathers fluffing up. “My feathers, that’s! Oh! That is much worse than what you told me!”

“One can hardly fault her,” Sally says before Julie can respond. She kneels by Howdy with Poppy right behind her. “Are you with us, Barnaby?”

No response.

Howdy goes cold. “Barn?”

Sally briskly taps Barnaby’s cheek until he twitches, his eyelids barely lifting before falling shut once more. “Still with us!”

If Howdy wasn’t already crying, he’d start now.

“Can you fix it?” Eddie asks from off to the side.

Julie paces anxiously. “Of course she can! Poppy’s the best healer for miles, there’s nothing she can’t do. Right, Poppy? He’ll be up and joking in no time!”

“I.” Poppy’s feathers shake as she dances them over the open wound. “I will most certainly try, but I can’t do it on my own. It’s too severe for my magic to do much of anything. Sally, dear-”

“No,” Sally says immediately, her glow dimming. “You cannot be serious, I won’t - I simply will not-”

“You must. We all need to work together - Howdy and Eddie need to hold the wound shut. It won’t just be you.”

“We need to what now?” Eddie says, even as he settles on Howdy’s other side. “What’s going on?”

Howdy feels sick. “You and I have to make sure his insides stay inside, while Sally will-”

“Sally won’t,” Sally says. “As much of a nuisance as he likes to make himself, Barnaby is my friend! I could never-”

“Then you’re alright with losing him!”” Howdy snarls. “Perhaps you’d like to trade places with me and feel him die under your hands instead!”

Sally gapes at him, stricken. Her mouth flaps for a moment before she shuts it firmly and turns to the wound, lifting her hands.

“What does she have to do?” Julie asks.

Everyone ignores her - not out of unkindness. Poppy nods to Eddie and Howdy. Eddie places his hands in the spaces where Howdy can’t completely reach. They exchange a glance and push.

There was a time when Howdy received an overpacked shipment of linked sausages. He had no room to store it yet, but the sack it arrived in tore. Shoving them back in - even with all four of his hands - was nigh impossible. It was impressive how the sausages had managed to fit at all, because the sack was certainly too small.

Shoving Barnaby’s guts back into his stomach is a lot like that.

Barnaby cringes and moans in his nearly-unconscious state, feebly trying to get away from what is certainly agonizing pain. His brow bunches up, and he whines high in his throat.

Howdy can’t spare a thought to it. Blood and organs squelch as Howdy and Eddie rush to cram it all inside - there’s no time for caution. As soon as the last slip of pink is inside - it’s so, so dark and red past the blue - they squeeze the wound shut to the best of their abilities. Barnaby sobs quietly.

“Now,” Poppy says, and Sally’s palms burn hot enough to make Howdy’s skin itch.

She holds her hands to the sealed gash, and Barnaby starts wailing. Too weak to thrash, he just writhes softly and keens, tears freely spilling down his face and carving dark tracks in his drying fur. His paw twitches around Howdy’s leg, claws digging in again like he wants to grab or yank or something.

“Almost there, Barn,” Howdy lies. Part of him wishes Barnaby would fall fully into unconsciousness. It would be dangerous, but at least he wouldn’t feel this.

The acrid stench of burning fur and flesh fills Howdy’s nose. Sally and Eddie both gag. Heels rapidly click across the tavern as Julie sprints to the nearest waste bin, and she retches loudly into it. Howdy barely registers it - he’s barely breathing, himself.

“Well done, all of you,” Poppy murmurs as Sally cauterizes. She holds her wingtips to the cooked flesh of the wound as Sally continues, and they glow coal red. The wound glows with it, the angry blistered flesh smooths and pales, and blue fur starts to grow back before their eyes.

Barnaby’s paw falls from Howdy’s leg as he starts to slump, cries petering off into agonized whines. Poppy doesn’t seem alarmed, and Howdy just wants his pain to stop, so no one moves to keep him awake.

Soon, Sally has to shuffle in front of Howdy and Eddie to continue. They’re loath to move, so she awkwardly lies across their laps and reaches. As soon as she burns her way to the end that Eddie healed, Poppy gives them the all-clear.

Eddie lets go first, slumping back on his heels. Sally is still draped across Howdy’s lap with her head pillowed on Eddie’s. The three of them catch their breath as they watch Poppy brush her healing feathers across Barnaby’s stomach. Julie staggers over to them and kneels next to Eddie. She leans against him, sniffling. Howdy doesn’t have it in him to protest when Eddie not only loops an arm around her shoulders, but around Howdy’s waist as well.

Barnaby is finally unconscious, his features slack - Howdy places a hand on his chest to make sure, and the shallow rise and fall of it is more priceless than all the coin in the world. Howdy slowly sits. His hand trails down as Poppy pulls her wings back, and his fingertips dance on the silvery smooth line of a fresh scar.

“I’ve done all I can,” Poppy says with a gusty sigh. “So have the rest of you - again, well done. You all did splendidly.”

“I don’t feel splendid,” Sally croaks.

“Well… you are. Quite splendid. Let’s get him up and to a bed.” Poppy’s first attempt at standing fails. Sally all but leaps up to help support her, and she laughs nervously. “I’m afraid that took quite a bit out of me. There was more to heal than I expected, dear me.”

“Will he be okay?” Julie asks.

Poppy looks at Barnaby with a soft, sad look in her eyes. “I can’t say for certain. It’s up to Barnaby, now… all we can do is make sure he’s comfortable. A-and keep a close eye on him! There could be, ah… complications. Infections, and the like. Mh, I’m sure it won’t come to that, though. Sally’s fire should have burned out anything nasty.”

Howdy belatedly realizes that he needs to help carry Barnaby. He kneels on shaky legs and gently maneuvers Barnaby’s dead wei- unconscious weight to the side. Howdy slips his upper arms under Barnaby’s, using his lower set to help support his back. Eddie takes one side, Sally and Julie take the other. Poppy does her best to help, but she can only lift Barnaby’s unbloodied leg with her beak.

They shuffle their way to a ground floor room. There’s plenty, but Howdy once again chooses to be selfish and brings them to one near to his own. Near is subjective - Howdy lives on the second floor, but the staircase to his private suite is as close to Barnaby’s temporary room as it can get. Barnaby will be sleeping right below Howdy. If anything happens, he’ll hear.

They get Barnaby onto the bed, and all of them breathe sighs of relief - and mild pain, in Eddie’s case as he stretches his back. Poppy asks for Julie to stay and assist her with getting Barnaby adjusted.

Howdy doesn’t wait for a dismissal. He stumbles his way out of the room with Sally and Eddie in tow, his heart jackrabbiting. It feels like he grabbed hot coals, or swallowed a bolt of lightning. He’s shaky and ill and he just held Barnaby’s intestines in his hands.

Howdy leans over the bar and blindly grabs a bottle from underneath it. He uncorks it with his mouth, spits the cork to the side, and starts chugging. The alcohol burns as it goes down. It’s cheap, bitter, and easy to focus on. He comes up for breath with a small gasp and coughs, wincing at the aftertaste.

Cleaning supplies clatter as Eddie brings them out of the supply closet - Howdy wasn’t aware he knew where that was. It’s just a bucket of water and a scrubber. Not that he’ll do much good. He’s still caked in blood and mud. Dishes clink as Sally cleans up the ample messes that the patrons left behind. Howdy takes another swig and stares blankly at the shelf behind the bar.

The blank eyes of the Wally-puppet stare back at him. At least the real Wally wasn’t here to see that. Howdy doesn’t know what he would have done, or how he would have reacted… best not to imagine. In any case, Howdy hopes that by the time they find Wally, this whole experience will be nothing but another story.

Howdy goes to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand - oh. Right. It’s still covered in blood. All four of them are. The blood glistens when Howdy holds out his hands. It’s warm and tacky, clinging to his fingers like sap as he spreads them.

It’s Barnaby’s blood.

These hands were inside of Barnaby’s gutted stomach, and Howdy can still feel the sickening heat and the way it all pulsed and twitched and-

Howdy copies Julie’s example and vomits into the nearest acceptable receptacle. The alcohol tastes better going the other way, even if it burns worse.

Once the dry heaving stops, Howdy sinks to the ground, shaking with silent sobs. His legs curl up and he presses the heels of his upper hands to his forehead, hugging himself with his lower arms. The crimson-soaked fabric of his shirt squishes and sticks to his skin.

Everything Sally carries rattles, and every few minutes something falls. Chipped cups, shattered plates, clattering platters. After each breakage, she picks up the shards and keeps clearing the tables. The constant swish, swish, swish of scrubber bristles on wood fill the silence between rattling dishware and rolls of thunder. Eddie scrubs at the one spot on the floor, where Barnaby sat. The water he pours and scrubs quickly turns pink, then red.

The door opens, letting in yet another gust of air. It slowly closes, and Frank’s shrill voice cries out, “What in the heavens happened in here?”

Anger rises sharply in Howdy’s gut - and vanishes as soon as it came. There’s no use in being mad at Frank - they didn’t explicitly go with Eddie and Barnaby on their day trip. He was gathering information. There was no way he could have known what would happen.

Frank belatedly notices the thick trail of blood on the floor, and sidesteps it before rushing to Eddie. “Is everyone okay? Who’s hurt? That’s not your blood, is it-”

“It’s not mine,” Eddie says, not looking away from his task. Swish, swish, swish. When Frank reaches for him, he waves them off. “Stay back, it’s a mess. I’ll take care of it - I’m taking care of it.”

He isn’t taking care of it.

Frank takes a step back, his eyes wide enough that Howdy can see the whites of them clear across the tavern. Frank looks over the trail of blood, the puddle, bootprints, the smeared handprints, and the sheer amount coating not only Eddie, but Howdy too. Sally doesn’t make a move to acknowledge Frank as she stacks wood platters and ceramic plates. More blood stains her from where she kneeled in it, and laid across Howdy and Eddie.

A scraaaaape precedes Julie backing into the tavern proper with a large tub of steaming water. Howdy makes a desperate sound and scrambles over to it. He thrusts his arms into the water and scrubs furiously at his skin and sleeves, ignoring the burn of the slightly too-hot temperature. Julie’s stare sears into him for only a moment before she takes a shuddering breath and steps out of the splash zone.

“Frank!” she says a touch too loudly, oozing false cheer. “You’re back! Did you find anything?”

“Did I - what does that matter! Julie, what’s going on?”

“Oh, Barnaby got a little hurt, but he’s resting now.”

Frank incredulously gestures to the tavern’s general state. “A little hurt?”

“Barnaby’s fine now,” Julie reiterates. “Poppy is taking care of him.”

“How did - why did - what -”

Howdy slowly stops scrubbing. His skin feels raw under his fuzz as he stands, water sluicing from his arms. He unties his apron as he returns to the bar and tosses it over a stool. He sits on the one next to it and snatches the open bottle of - whatever it is. It’s alcohol. That’s what matters. He rests his head in his hands between acrid swigs.

“Everything is okay! Poppy is the best healer around, it’s nothing she can’t handle,” Julie chirps. No one calls her out on the proven lie. She starts collecting straggling dishes alongside Sally. “We’re just helping Howdy clean up.”

In his periphery, Howdy catches Frank side-eyeing him. He chugs from the bottle for a moment and slams it back down, if only to make a point. Frank is the only one to jolt at the sharp bang.

Frank slowly crouches by Eddie, frowning deeper than normal. He mutters something too quiet for Howdy to hear from the other end of the bar. Eddie says something back - Frank lays a hand on his shoulder, and Howdy scowls miserably into his drink. His thigh itches.

Swish, swish- the scrubber finally stills. Eddie shoots to his feet, his armor clattering loudly, and he steadies himself against the counter as his other hand flies to his forehead. “Oh no. Oh, no…”

Everyone stills, and the tension in the room thickens palpably.

“What is it?” Frank asks.

Eddie looks at Howdy with horror in his eyes. “We lost Wormie. Barn dropped his hat when we were ambushed - there was no time to stop. We couldn’t…”

“Show me,” Howdy says, leaping off of his stool and charging for the door. Eddie follows hot on his heels.

The rain is freezing. It soaks Howdy through to the bone as soon as he steps out from under the tavern awning.

Howdy doesn’t dare go back to get a coat, even if all he has on are his thin work clothes. The cold nearly knocks the breath out of him, but he focuses on the alcohol warm in his stomach and plunges into the storm. He slows just enough to let Eddie - and, apparently, Sally - pass him. She carves a way through the pitch black night.

Mud saturates Howdy’s boots and the cuffs of his pants. It sticks unpleasantly to his skin and only worsens the chill as they run past dark buildings. Few windows glow orange, proving how late it’s gotten. There’s no way of knowing how long it’s been since Barnaby was injured. Even with Sally,’s light, it’s going to be impossible to find Wormie in this weather.

Howdy’s eyes burn as they leave the town’s muddy streets and plunge into the terribly dark forest. What if they don’t find her? The thought is almost too much to bear. Howdy doesn’t think he could face Barnaby when - if - he wakes up. They’ve already lost Wally, and that alone has had Barnaby in shambles. But if they lost his beloved little worm, too?

It feels like they run through the woods for hours. Eddie keeps slipping and tripping, but manages to keep his legs under him. Howdy’s mind whirls with what-ifs and maybes and hows and whys. Eddie and Barnaby were ambushed so far away - why did they come to Howdy’s tavern instead of going right to Poppy’s? How horrible was it to go all the way into town in that state, in this weather? What if Wormie drowned, or was trampled, frozen, taken -

“I think it was here,” Eddie shouts over the thunder and rain. A flash of lightning illuminates the ground through the waving treetops.

“You think?” Sally says. Howdy wishes he had said it first - now is not the time for Eddie’s navigational dysfunction!

“I don’t know, Sally! I wasn’t really paying attention on account of keepin’ Barn’s insides from spillin’ everywhere!” Eddie doesn’t say it to be cruel, Howdy knows.

It doesn’t stop him from feeling unsteady all over again, or stop Sally’s glow from dimming. He glances around like he expects to see more blood, though even if this is the correct area, the rain has washed any evidence away. Howdy turns in a circle, tangling his upper hands in his hair.

There’s no way of knowing. There’s no way of finding such a tiny, sweet little creature- lightning flashes, catching on leather outside of Sally’s glow.

Howdy lunges for the hat, uncaring of how his knees sink deep into frigid mud as he snatches it up. The hat is grimy, but undamaged. Even Ms. Beagle’s feather is intact. But when Howdy turns it over, his heart sinks.

Nothing inside.

Nothing on the ground around it either, even when he digs through the mud to make sure. Eddie hesitantly touches Howdy’s shoulder, and Sally’s warm glow envelops his back.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says. He sniffles. “I should’ve grabbed her. I should’ve-”

“You prioritized our bard,” Sally says. “We can’t fault you for that.”

They can’t. Howdy… Howdy wants to, but he can’t find it in himself. He’s cold, he’s tired, he wants to go make sure Barnaby is being taken care of. He looks around a final time, blinking against the rainwater pouring over his eyes.

Nothing but muddy soil, bushes, trees, darkness.

Howdy clutches the hat to his chest and stands, stumbling slightly. His friends steady him, and his face pinches. He shouldn’t have drank so much at once. It’s finally getting to him, and soon he’ll be of no use at all. He can already feel the faint buzz in his head.

“We’ll come back in the morning,” Sally promises, tugging gently on his lower arm.

Howdy makes a pained noise. She won’t make it to morning. It’s too cold, she’s too small. All they’ll find is her little frozen body.

“Hold on.” Eddie holds out an arm to stop them. “Can you hear that?”

“It’s impossible to hear anything over this storm,” Sally says.

“No, no… I’m sure I heard something. It was a - a little, it was a little…”

Peep.

Howdy’s waterlogged antennae snap upright, and he whips around to stare at a nearby tree. A past storm must have nearly blown it over, as half of the base seems uprooted. Gnarled roots arc and tangle out of the ground. Howdy falls to his knees in front of the dark hole under the trunk.

Another peep comes from inside.

“Sal, I need your light,” Howdy says, fumbling for her. Her golden glow fills the space, and he nearly sobs.

Wormie squints up at them, curled into a tiny ball and shaking like the wet leaves she lies on. Mud covers her colors - if her eyes weren’t open, one could mistake her for a twig. Her harness blends into the rest of her. She peeps again.

“Hey, gal,” Howdy murmurs, reaching into the shelter. Her antennae make a feeble attempt at raising, and she stretches her neck out towards his fingers. He slips them underneath her and lifts her out, making sure to shield her from the rain with his body.

“Thank the stars,” Eddie says wetly. “For a moment there I thought we lost her.”

Howdy curls his fingers around Wormie, his heart breaking at how violently she shakes.

“Should I take her? She must be freezing, the poor thing” Sally says, holding out a hand. Howdy holds her out, and Wormie lifts her head as Sally’s warm glow washes over her. She blinks at the offered trade, then drops her head and nestles into Howdy’s palm. Sally retracts her hand. “Apparently not.”

Howdy hooks the hat over that hand, and Wormie lets out a mournful peep. He lets Sally and Eddie pull him through the forest, staying hunched over the hat and murmuring reassurances. He starts quietly crying again at some point. The rain washes away his tears and sounds. By the time they return to the tavern, he’s exhausted himself. They all stumble through the doorway as a soaked, grimy trio.

Julie and Frank flurry over to fuss over them, but Howdy staggers past their worries. All he knows through the cotton in his head is that he needs a hot bath. He leaves their chatter behind and makes his way down the hallway, only pausing to listen at Barnaby’s door.

Poppy is humming to herself. Howdy sags against the wall for a moment, taking solace in how calm she sounds. For a moment, he imagines going inside and resting at Barnaby’s bedside, but… later, he promises himself. When he’s in clean clothes and feels less like collapsing.

Climbing the stairs to his room is a feat in itself, but Howdy manages it without tripping over the steps. He closes his door behind him and sighs, tempted to just fall asleep on the floor and deal with everything later. But Wormie is still shivering in his hand, and he might as well kill two birds with one stone.

The hat is placed on the table for cleaning. Howdy hates to let go of Wormie, but he places her on the crown while he runs a bath. Not for the first time he thanks his past self for investing in this revolutionary tech called plumbing. All he needs to do is turn a valve, and hot water pours right into a fixed tub in the corner of his large, open room.

For a long moment he yanks at the valve, not understanding why it’s not working- ah. He’s turning it the wrong way. He blinks forcibly and twists the right way, and water pours out. He watches it drain until it registers that he should plug the tub.

Oh, the headache he’s going to have when he wakes up…

Howdy strips as he makes his way back over to Wormie, leaving unsalvageable clothing items strewn about. It’s a blessing in disguise that he was drenched by the rain - it kept all of the blood from drying, so his shirt and pants come off easily instead of sticking to his skin. He’s still stained red underneath them. Howdy undoes his ponytail and picks up Wormie. He carefully loosens her harness and slides it off, revealing a patch of spring blue and green bands underneath.

He holds her to his chest as he steps into the filling tub. Steam rises off of it, and it clears his stuffed sinuses. He inhales it grateful and sinks into the water, clenching his teeth when it laps over the punctures in his thigh. He closes the valve and settles with a groan.

Wormie peeps at him and looks over the side of his hand at the water with longing in her big eyes. Howdy carefully lowers her until the warm water pools over his palm. Wormie finally stretches out as he rubs his thumb over her. Mud flakes and sloughs off of her, and she wriggles happily. She dunks her face and thrashes a little to properly soak herself. He gently runs a soap bar over her until she’s nearly white from the suds, and lowers her into the water so only her head floats on the surface.

Once she’s clean, Howdy grabs a small hand towel off of a nearby shelf, soaks it, and piles it on the side of the tub. He places Wormie on it and she happily starts burrowing. It occurs to him that he could look for some sort of floatation device for her, so that she could splash around to her tiny heart’s content, but just the thought is exhausting. So, a waterlogged towel it is.

Before Howdy completely ruins the water by scrubbing more blood and mud into it, he washes his hair. The rain had already undone the ‘do, so at least he doesn’t have to scrub out the styling paste. He squeezes the water out as best as he can and slicks it back.

Watching the red caking his skin dissipate into the water is nothing short of a relief. He stops when he gets to the minor injury Barnaby left him - he can’t tell if he bled or not. If he did, it was overshadowed by Barnaby’s blood. He sits on the edge of the tub to better inspect it.

The wounds are shallow and nothing to write home about. They don’t need bandaging, though even if they did, the time for that has long since passed. Barnaby must not be dulling his claws like he usually does. Thankfully they weren’t entirely sharp, or Howdy suspects he’d have much larger holes in his thigh. Three punctures on the outside, one on the inside. Howdy opens the water valve a smidge just to wet a fresh towelette and properly clean the wounds. It would help no one to get them infected - Poppy needs to save her energy for Barnaby.

By the time he’s satisfied with his cleanliness - if he weren’t so tired, he’d have gone for a fourth round of soap - Wormie is dozing in her damp towel. He opens the drain before grabbing a fresh hand towel, this one dry. He carefully lifts Wormie out of it and wraps her in the soft fabric. Her eyes open for only a moment before she settles again, purring.

For a long few minutes, Howdy just sits and holds her, watching her antennae twitch as she falls asleep. He absentmindedly rubs the towel, and Wormie’s purring increases as she’s dried.

The sound of the last of the water draining pulls Howdy’s attention away from the tiny animal. He carefully gets out of the tub and puts Wormie back on the table, still wrapped up. Once again, he looks longingly at his bed.

Howdy dries off and dresses in loose sleep pants and leaves it at that, not wanting to bother with a shirt. He rarely sleeps with one on, anyway. Too much of a hassle. He slips Wormie out of her towel and brings her downstairs, once again having to move slowly with much paid attention as to not fall with his leaden legs.

Poppy emerges from the room as Howdy reaches the ground floor. She turns and startles. “Oh! Howdy, you startled me. You look much better… though your hair is still wet - you’ll catch a cold if you leave it like that.”

Is it? Howdy brushes his fingertips over cold strands plastered to his neck. Oops.

“Are you alright? You look quite unsteady…” Poppy comes over to him and squawks softly, her neck pulling back. “Is that alcohol? Howdy, are you drunk?”

Howdy shrugs one shoulder. Talking takes focus and time, but he manages, “I may be a little tipsy. No worries.”

“Many worries, dear.”

“How is he?” Howdy deflects as he walks past her, partially leaning against the wall. He nudges open the door and rests against the doorframe. The blankets cast over the small room’s bed rise and fall in stark contrast to how shallow Barnaby was breathing earlier.

“On the mend,” Poppy murmurs, following him inside. He slumps into the armchair already pulled up to the bed. “He might sleep for some time… he’s been through quite an ordeal. Anyone would be tired after so much healing, let alone after… well.”

Howdy carefully places Wormie on Barnaby’s neck. She stirs, and starts forcibly purring as soon as she registers the shade of blue underneath her. She doesn’t perform her usual party-seizure like she usually does when seeing Barnaby - she just burrows into his fur. Howdy has to wonder if she’s simply exhausted, or if she can tell that something is wrong.

“I don’t believe we’ll encounter any complications with his health, thank goodness” Poppy says. “By my estimates, he should be up and moving within the week. I’d like him to remain on bedrest for a few days more than strictly necessary, but I doubt he’ll want to stay put.”

If Howdy weren’t so worn out, he’d tear up yet again.

Of course he won’t stay. Barnaby will charge out the door as soon as he’s able, hellbent as he is on finding Wally. No one can blame him. The others will likely continue the search tomorrow, if not the next day. All Howdy can hope is they find something promising for Barnaby to wake up to.

He crosses his upper arms on the bed and pillows his head on them. He fights to keep his eyelids open, watching Barnaby’s peaceful face. He looks calm, his features holding no hint of pain. A warm weight drapes over Howdy.

He starts to lift his head, but Poppy says, “It’s just a blanket. Rest, Howdy, you need it. Barnaby will be here when you wake up.”

Howdy means to thank her, but the word comes out as a weary sigh. He lets his eyes slide shut, and slips into deep sleep a second later.

#I PROMISED CHAT I'D POST THIS SO HERE IT IS #tenderly kissing barnaby's unconscious forehead <3 #i do it out of a place of love and affection <3 #my favorite form of gore is gut stuff soooo.... its reserved for my fav characters <3 #love me some insides becoming Outsides!#snippets from the bog #wh fantasy au #alright not much else to say. im tired!#today was... a Lot. need to sleep... need to shower i forgot to do that...#wait no side note #i absolutely fucking love writing wormie. she <3 #actually i have a whole extra scene for when barnaby wakes up maybe ill rb this w/ the addition #At Some Point! when the mood strikes!#but yes i hope that those of you who read this enjoyed <3 #i certainly did!

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loversmore · 10 months

Text

2minwonhan + flowers

for @seoksgyu 🤍

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da-birb-writes-sometimes · 9 months

Note

hi dove!! congrats on 100 followers!! ┌⁠(⁠・⁠。⁠・⁠)⁠┘⁠♪ if it's not already taken, i'd like to request the "long-distance relationship" prompt and 🥺🌃📞 with jade (bc im obvious)? for backup, maybe "stargazing" and 🌠🙏⛺ with deuce? as always, you don't have to write it if you don't want to

thanks for always spreading joy and chaos on my feed hahaha, you're such a sweetheart ʕ⁠っ⁠•⁠ᴥ⁠•⁠ʔ⁠っ

Long-Distance Relationship; Jade Leech

Content; Gender-neutral reader, hurt/comfort

Word Count; 800 (on the dot)

AN; The final drabble for the 100-follower event, and the third Jade drabble! I hope you like the direction I took this in, Rinna! *hands you a tissue just in case* As a reminder, do not put my work — or others for that matter — into AI as it steals. Link to Masterlist

It felt weird, being back home. Being in your bedroom, the one that had all your personal belongings. Your clothes. Your memories. You were back, no longer in Twisted Wonderland, which you dared not share with anyone else save they question you, or worse off, it wasn’t real. But it was real, the photos showed that much. Photos of your friends. Photos of all of the different events. Photos of the man that had captured your heart. A coy smile, a glint in his mismatched eyes, and hands that would gently hold yours. You missed Twisted Wonderland, you missed Jade.

You looked towards the window, seeing the faintest hints of the thin curve of the moon, and only the brightest stars being visible due to all the light. There was no magic… and everything seemed more dull without it. Of course, you would be struck with all these thoughts in the dead of night, with only the barking of the neighbour’s dog and the sound of far-off sirens keeping you company. It was no use staring out the window, or worse, the ceiling, and yearning for a place you couldn’t return to. So you got up and went to your desk, to look through the photos that still moved. That gave you bright smiles… that reminded you that your heart was elsewhere.

You stalled on the one photograph; it was a photo of Jade on a mountaintop, looking at you as the sun set behind him.

“Prefect, let me help you up. Are you alright, it seems like you tripped over something,” you heard his voice play in your head. The photo played on a loop, of him turning around and giving you a kind yet playful look. Of a perfect moment in time.

You didn’t even have time to give him a proper goodbye, having been sucked through a mirror suddenly; much like your sudden arrival. “I miss you,” you whispered.

Closing the photo album gently, you went to the window. Nothing had changed since you left. All of your trinkets from over the years were still in their places. And you don’t really know what compelled you, but you picked up the small snail shell that you picked up from a shop, and you held it to your ear.

If you hold a shell to your ear, you’ll hear the ocean. So you listened, and while it did remind you of the crashing waves at the beach, it reminded you of Jade. Only once you get close enough could you hear them, telling you his thoughts only once you had earned his trust. Earned his respect.

“I find it humorous,” you heard him hum, “how my unique magic is Shock the Heart, yet with you, it feels like it has been cast on me.”

You brought the shell to your lips. “Please, I just want to see him again. To hear him… please.” But the only thing that happened was a breeze coming through the window screen.

There was no magic, so wishes don’t come true here, especially not such large and impossible ones.

I should try to get some sleep… So you crawled back under the covers, clutching a pillow to your chest as you fell into a black, dreamless sleep. But after what felt like only a few short moments, you were jolted awake by the sound of the phone ringing. That’s weird, I usually keep it on silent… UGH, WHY IS IT SO LOUD?! It’s too early for this.

You blindly groped around for your phone, but once you had it in hand you realized it wasn’t the source of the ringing. You checked the landline, which was also not the source. The ringing wasn’t coming from either of the phones. “Where the hell is it coming from,” you muttered. “It’s too early for this!” The sun wasn’t even up yet!

But you found what was making the ruckus; it was the shell. That shouldn’t be possible. It can’t be possible. Shells don’t ring. There’s no magic here that could do that. But you picked it up, holding your breath.

“Hello?” It was Jade. By some miracle, the voice on the other side of the… shell? Phone? Shell phone? Was Jade.

You felt like your centre of gravity had shifted. “Jade,” you choked out.

You heard a soft exhale on the other side of the line. “After so many attempts, I finally found you.” For the first time, you heard so many emotions at once just in his voice. “We never got the chance, but, Prefe-... Y/N, I love you, and somehow, we will meet again.”

He feels the same. He… loves me. “I love you too.”

And the connection between shells never broke, and one day, the two of you shall meet again.

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osamusriceballs · 5 months

Text

The Accident - Part IX

Atsumu x fem reader

Warnings: None

Words:- ~ 1,2 k

About: The phone call with Atsumu! What could he possibly want from you?

Part I II -> Next Part

"Hello?"

"Y/n? It's me, Atsumu Miya."

You glance at Yachi with wide eyes, and she nods frantically, clearly excited by the call. She urges you to respond, gesturing for you to say something to him.

"Oh, yes. Atsumu. Is everything alright?"

"Everything's good. Don't worry. I just wanted to let you know that I've talked to my lawyer, and apparently, we both can't have the same lawyer for the divorce. I've contacted Samu's lawyer, though, and they're willing to help us out. I'll cover the cost, don't worry. They're discreet too, so we don't need to worry about the public getting involved." You try to focus on his words, but his voice flows like honey through the speaker, causing your heart to skip a beat. Yachi taps your shoulder, urging you to respond once again. You clear your throat and quickly start to answer.

"Oh. Thank you. I really don't know what to say. I've been thinking about the public, especially since I found out you're in the Olympic team. I was wondering if the situation would cause problems for you."

"No! No, yer not causing me trouble. It's not like we're under a dating ban. Most of us just try to be discreet about our dating life. Some fans are... a bit obsessed." There's a brief silence, and you debate if you should mention stumbling upon his profile and complimenting him for it. You're technically still strangers, yet it feels like you're the early stages of actually dating.

"But don't worry about that; your husband will take care of that, 'kay?" His tone turns playful, and you snort at the comment. "Okay. Let me know how I can help." You ease back into the couch, Yachi attentively watching you with a curious expression.

"Of course. You could start by telling me about your plans for next week. We need to talk to the lawyers; can you fit me into yer schedule sometime?"

"I have the next week off, so just let me know when works best for you." You smile at the thought of seeing him again, ignoring Yachi's encouraging grin.

"Sure. How about Wednesday? We can have dinner after the appointment; I can show you Onigiri Miya, if ya want? You can say no too; I just thought it would be a good idea to get to know each other. We started rather... unusually." Your cheeks heat up at the memory of how you technically met—waking up naked and married.

"Oh! That sounds lovely, actually. I've seen some pictures of Onigiri Miya, and I'd love to try Osamu's food."

"You've seen pics? Found my Instagram, didn't ya?" His teasing tone intensifies, and you feel even more heat rushing to your cheeks.

"I just- I wasn't trying to-" You stammer, the image of a shirtless Atsumu vivid in your mind.

"Just teasin' ya. Are you getting shy on me now? We literally slept in the same bed; I'd stalk my husband's Instagram too if I woke up married like that." He teases, and you can't help but get flustered.

"I wasn't stalking!" You clarify and clear your throat uncomfortably. "Did ya make sure to follow me? I wanna stalk my wifey too." He laughs, clearly unfazed by the situation, and his lightheartedness quickly transfers to you. "I didn't. I just had a short look; I don't know if I remember your username."

"Oh? You only remember the food on my page? Guess that's the only thing I'm good for. Only known for being the brother of the famous Osamu Miya, chef, and successful restaurant owner. I'll ask Samu to post some pictures of me to gain more followers." He sighs dramatically, and you snort at his exaggerated acting. "Did you just laugh? You seemed so tense before; I'm glad yer feeling better already."

"Thank you. I really appreciate everything." You smile, and even though you can't see his face, you're sure he's smiling too. "And I'll make sure to follow you. Maybe it will help raise your popularity- I want your volleyball career to thrive, after all." He laughs at your words, and you notice Yachi looking at you with raised brows, clearly curious about what you're talking about.

"Maybe I can finance us someday with my volleyball skills. Stick along, wifey. I'll get you an even prettier ring then." You blush feverishly and cough nervously while glance at the ring on the couch table. "The rings don't look too bad actually. The diamond looks almost real."

"Oh, about that. It is real, so make sure to wear it often to show off."

It takes you a few moments to process his words, and you take a sharp breath through your nose as you look at the ring. "What do you mean it's real? Like a real diamond?" Yachi stares at the ring too, and her mouth is agape as she hesitantly reaches for it, holding it in the light. It shines beautifully, and you lean forward to inspect it closer.

"Yeah, real diamond and all that. I found a receipt in my pocket. The rings are from a real jewelry store. I got the certificates for them too. I'll give you the one for your ring when we see each other again."

"I don't know what to say- Atsumu-" You hesitate, gazing at the ring once again. The diamond is not small, not overly huge, but tastefully big enough to shine brightly. "Don't mention it. We'll talk next week? I'll message you the time. I can pick ya up, or we can meet up there; I'm fine with both."

"Okay. Thank you. See you next week, Atsumu."

"See ya, wifey."

You hang up with a smile and stare at the screen for a few moments, until Yachi starts to laugh right next to you.

"'See you next week, Atsumu'- the way you made sure to say his name, ohh, y/n, you're crushing on him."

"I don't even know him, Yachi! And we're in no position to be liking each other; it's just business!" You shake your head and furrow your brows.

Atsumu is a nice guy. Funny, charismatic, kind. And extremely good looking. You know that you realistically have no chance to score a catch like him, and yet, you find yourself married to him. You wonder if he is regretting the whole situation, even though he seems to play it cool. He's on top of his career and you're just distracting him right now in this important phase. He's probably just worried about his reputation, worried that you'd go to the media and claim that he had forced you to do something. He might just be nice to you because he's scared- scared that you could potentially ruin his career. You need to make sure to always remember that and not to let his words get to you.

You'd have to make sure you don't fall for him— or else you'd end up with a broken heart.

#haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu x reader #atsumu #atsumu x reader #miya atsumu #here you go! <3 #I hope you enjoyed this part! <3 #let's see what the next chapter will bring us!#maybe the next irl interaction of y/n and Atsumu~#this feels like slow burn #like damn #they haven't even kissed yet xD #I don't really know how long this will be #but you're in for a long ride! <3 #I hope you're enjoying this little project #I'm still really into this and I'll make sure to update at least once a week #next part probably on Thursday! <3 #LOVE YA! <3 #Sleep well everyone! <3

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malarkgirlypop · 6 months

Note

hihi I had an idea with Joe Liebgott x Nurse where they despised each other in high school and never saw each other again after that. Once the war begins, reader volunteered to become a nurse in aid stations, and one day lieb gets shot in the ass lol and has to go to the aid station where she is. She never imagined he'd become her patient, and he never imagined they'd ever cross paths again, and it feels like they're back in high school all over again

enemies to lovers basically hihi

Goody Part 1 (Joseph Liebgott x Fem!Reader)

OMG This is the best idea. I hope that you like it. This is the first part! More to come after this. As soon as I got this message I dropped everything to write it. I'm so excited for the next part so stay tuned! Also let me know how smutty I can be ahaha. This is based off the HBO show and the actors who portray the characters, no hate to the people involved.

Mr Lancy drones on, my eyes droop as he speaks. My brain can’t handle all the maths questions on the board. Maths is my least favourite subject for two reasons. One I hate it all the numbers they jumble together and I can never make sense of the questions and two Joseph Liebgott is in this class with me. We don’t get to pick our seats either, Mr Lancy isn’t nice enough for that.

So when I walked in on the first day of the year I took my respective seat from the chart that was pinned to the board, I thought there must be an odd amount of students in the class since everyone had a desk partner except for me. I wasn’t too fussed, I was at the back of the class, so I could get away with doing nothing. The bell rang and in came Mr Lancy, he was calling the roster when Joe strolled in. Oh no! I thought, please don’t be my desk buddy! Joseph Liebgott had a reputation around school for being a miscreant, always getting into trouble. He once gave all the boys in our year the most dreadful skullets in the school toilets. He got suspended for a whole week. They never actually expel him, because he is one of the top scoring students in our year. I have no idea how he is so smart when he makes so many stupid choices. I groan internally as he makes a B-line to my desk. Joe and I have never gotten along, I like to follow rules unlike him and he likes to tease me for it.

“Ugh, I’m with you goody!” I glare at the boy as he slumps down into the seat next to me, using the shortened version of the nick-name he has for me, goody-two-shoes.

“Don’t flatter yourself ass-hat, I’m not pleased to be with you either.” I growl at him, clenching my fists on the desk. No one pisses me off quite like Joe does, I see him and I just want to strangle him.

“Ass-hat, that’s a good one. Where did you come up with that?” I roll my eyes, ignoring his taunting. I know that if I bite we will end up in a fist fight on the floor and I do not need him getting me into trouble.

So everyday I have to deal with the ass-hat that is Joseph Liebgott and maths. I sigh, looking at the clock, come on, how has it only been two minutes since I last checked the time.

“Miss Y/L/N, how about you come up and solve this one!” Mr Lancy calls my name, snapping me from the thoughts, shit! I have not been paying attention at all. Joe chuckles from beside me seeing the panic on my face. I send daggers his way, he pretends to cower back. I plaster a tight smile to my face, and make my way to the front, taking the chalk from Mr Lancy. I stand in front of the board, my heartbeat accelerating, a sweat breaks out across my forehead. I don’t even get the equation on the board. I bit my lower lip, glancing out of the corner of my eye, Mr Lancy stands with his arms crossed over his chest waiting for me to solve the equation. My hand shakes as I raise the chalk, feeling pressured to write something. I shakily drag the chalk down the blackboard, it squeaks making me wince. I cringe, I just wrote one. Someone end my suffering. I plead quietly in my brain. A chortle of laughter comes from the back of the room, everyone turns to see Joe bright red in the face dying from a fit of giggles. I scowl at him as he wipes tears from his eyes.

“Well if you think you can do better Mr Liebgott, by all means come up.” I sigh from relief, putting down the chalk and walking back to my seat, I pass Joe who makes his way to the front, he chuckles again as we pass. I clench my fists, don’t punch him. I take a breath trying to control my hatred. I sit down as Joe saunters to the front. He picks up the chalk erasing my shakey one with his hand. He solved the maths problem quickly. Turning and grinning at the class, some of the girls let out dreamy sighs. I roll my eyes. He makes eye contact with me, raising his eyebrows, giving me his signature smirk. I control myself from slapping the smug look off his face as he comes and sits down next to me again.

“Aw goody, you’ll get it next time.” He teases.

“Fuck off!” I say lowly. He chuckles again, knowing how to really get under my skin. I swear he takes pleasure in just pissing me off.

Last day of the year, and we would’ve graduated high-school. I walk with my friends as we collect our year books. We look through the photos, laughing at the terrible ones that were submitted. We all sign each other’s books, writing cute notes to each other about how we will miss each other and how we need to stay in touch. I sit reading all the notes left for me, smiling down at my book. It’s ripped from my hands, I gasp looking up to find a smirking Joe. I groan out loud.

“Give it back ass-hat!” I say standing, maybe this is the day I finally punch this guy in his big nose.

“Aww how sweet!” He mocks pouting, reading all of the messages written.

“Joe! Give it back, or I swear!” I say louder, stepping forward to grab the book from him, but he moves quickly away and holds the book over his head out of my reach.

“Or you swear you'll do what?” He taunts. I raise my foot, harshly stomping on his toes. His smug look replaced with pain. He drops his guard, I take my chance. I leap up grabbing my book from his hand, not realising he is only standing on one foot. He loses his balance as I jump on him. We topple backwards, landing in a heap on the ground. I look down at our position, I straddle his torso, our faces very close together as we both grip the year book in our outstretched hands. I pant in his face, our eyes locking briefly. Before we both snap to our senses.

“Oh god!” I shout, as he pushes me off him. “Get off me goody!” I take my yearbook back.

“Jesus if you wanted to get into my pants, all you had to do is ask!” His smug grin returned.

“Gross, I would never.” I hissed in his face. “Me either!” he retorts with the same energy.

That was the last time I saw the dreaded Joseph Liebgott. After I finished high-school, I went to university and studied to be a nurse. I got my degree and got a job in the hospital. I had only been working for a year before Japan bombed Pearl Harbour. I had wanted to help so I volunteered with a few of the other nurses I was working with. They had scooped us up immediately needing all the help they could get. Before we knew it we were on a boat to Europe, to help the soldiers. We had been assigned to the aid stations close to the front, where the medics sent back their men to be treated and then moved back onto the front again. It was hard work, the men that came in were often in very bad shape, needing assistance immediately. We only had one doctor and very limited supplies. So most of the decisions being made were by the nurses. I liked it, it made me think, tested my limits. Sometimes it tested them a bit too much though. Not everyone can be saved, no matter how hard you try, or go over the scenarios in your head each time, thinking of something you could’ve done differently. After a while the thrill got old. It was more heartbreaking than anything. But the nurses kept each other spirits high, if we were down the men could tell which brought down morale too. We weren’t just here to heal them of their injuries but support them. I always put on a smile, made small talk with the men, built rapports so they felt safe.

Eugene Roe, the medic for Easy company, came into the aid station with other men carrying a soldier on a stretcher.

“Hey Gene!” I chirped to the man as I finished tending to one of the patients.

“Hi Y/N!” He smiled back at me, turning around to tell the men to put the soldier on one of the beds.

“What have we got today?” I said as I approached the medic.

“You’re gonna love this, it’s another ass wound.” He chuckled. I sigh, the men of Easy company have a way of getting their asses shot. It had become an inside joke between Gene and I, we said that it’s because when they were lying down flat that their butts were still higher than their heads, because they’re so juicy.

“Easy men I swear.” I grin looking down at the patient who lay on their front. I bent down looking at the dressing Gene had put on, the man’s pants had been ripped open for Gene to get at the injury.

“Any pain meds?” I asked, lifting the dressing. A fairly deep graze was on the left cheek of the man’s behind. Like the bullet had just skimmed the top of it.

“No, he's a tough one.” Gene replied, giving the man a pat on the back.

“Damn right I am!” I froze, my hands stilled. Not moving, my eyes glanced at the face of the injured man. That nose was unforgettable.

“Joseph Liebgott!” I uttered. Joe craned his head around to look at me.

“Goody?” A shocked look dawned his face.

“You two know each other or something?” Gene asked, watching the interaction.

“Ugh out of everyone, why did it have to be you!” I groaned, not replying to Gene.

“Oh like I’m so thrilled!” Joe retorted in a sarcastic tone. “We went to high-school together, she was a pain in my ass.” Joe looked at Gene answering his question.

I scoffed, “Pain in your ass, I doubt it. He was a nightmare, Gene. Always up to no good.”

“Oh I could imagine that. Well I will leave him in your care then, Y/N.” Gene patted me on the shoulder as he made his way to the door.

“Gene, don't leave me here with her! She might try to kill me!” Joe cried, reaching for the leaving medic who just laughed at Joe.

“You’ll be fine, Liebgott, she’s a great nurse.” Gene called to him, giving us a cheesy grin before ducking out of sight.

“I’m not going to kill you Joe.” I rolled my eyes at his antics.

“You tried to kill me in high-school.” Joe protested.

“Yeah well this isn’t high-school. So turn around and let me do my job.” He groaned but did as I asked, burying his head into the pillow and letting out an audible groan.

I got to work, cleaning his wound. I washed out the laceration with clean water, cleaning around the peri-wound as well. It was deep enough to be packed, so I cut my gauze and packed it into the wound.

“Ouch!” Joe groaned. His butt cheeks clenching.

“Sorry, hold still.” I said as he squirmed under my touch. I finished the last of my packing, then placed a clean dressing over the injury. “I’ll go get you some new pants.” I scurried away to get some fresh pants for him. I returned with new pants, giving them to him, before closing the curtain and letting him change. He pulled back the curtain, looking ready to leave.

“Where are you going?” I asked him, as I moved from another soldier’s bed.

“Well you fixed me up so I can go.” Joe said, trying to move past me, I blocked his path.

“We haven't discharged you yet. You will need to stay until it heals fully.” I informed him.

He didn’t look pleased with me. “But it’s fine!”

“Well no, I have packed it and that needs to be changed daily. So you can’t leave. And no before you say it, Gene cannot do it in the field.” I interrupt him, seeing the thought in his mind before he can say it.

“Tell me Joe, what do you do in your foxhole most of the day?” I ask the man trying to get my point across.

“Sit.” He replies, looking confused.

“Exactly, you sit. That wound on your butt, that you sit on, will not heal if you go back to the front.” I explained to him, “Plus, because it’s on your ass, there is a greater chance of infection. So no, you’re not leaving until we say so.” I raise my eyebrows daring him to speak. He gives me a tight lipped smile, sighing loudly. He lies back down on his bed.

“Can you do a double tonight?” Mary asks me with puppy dog eyes. I glance at the clock, I’m supposed to be finishing in about ten minutes and I was so excited to go to sleep.

“Why can’t you do the night shift?” I ask her.

She blushes, becoming sheepish. “I have a date.” She grins at me. I know exactly who she is going on a date with as well, one of the soldiers that she tended to last week. They both became infatuated with each other, she didn’t leave the hospital that whole week, begging to do all of the night shifts so that she could stay with her lover boy. She even did one of my shifts for me, I had the whole day to lie in bed and do nothing. So I suppose I owe it to her. I nod reluctantly, as she grins clapping her hands together.

Night shift isn’t always too bad, most of them men just sleep and sometimes we have people brought in. But due to poor visibility at night, nothing much really happens to warrant a trip to the aid station. But today I feel extra exhausted, because I was fighting the whole time with ass-hat. Every time I turned around I found his eyes on me. Watching me like a hawk. He would smirk at me, while I sent daggers back. He was back to his old antics of winding me up and it was driving me up the wall. All I had wanted to do was go home and lie down. Now I had to stay and listen to him snore peacefully in bed, while I stayed up all night.

I sat catching up on the notes for the day. They were normally brief due to having no real down time to finish them all since we were always so busy and understaffed. I sat tapping my pencil to paper trying to think of what happened to the particular patient I was writing about. I couldn’t help but let my eyes wander to the sleeping Joe. A candle dimly lit the room so I could make out his face in the dark. He lay on his back snoring quietly. His brown hair tousled slightly on his forehead, a relaxed expression on his face, I hate to admit it but he’s very handsome. Only when he isn’t pestering me, I think I could get used to a sleeping Joe, he doesn’t drive me nuts in this state.

I sat staring at the clock, willing it to be 0700 so that I could leave and get some sleep. My eyes drooped as I propped my head up on my hand. Mary arrived early, bursting into the room all excited. I grinned at the young girl, as she made her way over to me. I was eager to hear how her date went with the soldier. She kept me company while waiting for the next shift of nurses to arrive telling me about her night.

“And then he lent in and kissed me.” She almost swooned out of her seat. I laughed watching her. “Oh Y/N it was so romantic, truly!” She lent in closer whispering, “I think I’m in love.”

“Steady on Mary, it was only your first date.” I cautioned the young nurse. But all she did was grin at me. I shook my head, laughing at her again.

“Y/N we need you to stay on just for a little while longer.” Dr. Johns told me, my smile dropped. I nodded reluctantly, knowing they needed me. I did my round leaving Joe till the end. He lay on his stomach reading a comic he had borrowed off of one of the other soldiers.

“Morning Joe.” I said sleepily, not really in the mood for his smugness.

“Morning goody.” He grinned, turning to look at me, his face dropped. He tilted his head assessing me. “Have you been here all this time?” He asked, looking at my face. I’m sure the bags under my eyes gave away my lack of sleep. I nodded barely able to keep my eyes open.

“I just need to change your dressings, can you pull your pants down for me.” I asked, he looked like he was going to make a snarky comment but bit his tongue, doing as I had asked. I removed the previous dressing, cleaned it and then packed it again and applied a new dressing over top. He pulled his pants back up after I was done, rolling onto his side. I didn’t get up immediately, enjoying the softness of his bed. I felt myself nodding off, I put out my hand to steady myself, leaning onto my elbow. My eyes won’t even open. I feel a tug, as my arm is pulled from under me, I fall onto the bed. I feel gentle hands place a pillow under my head. I sigh, feeling comfortable. The bed moves, I hear the sound of the curtain being pulled. The bed dips again, someone takes a seat beside me. I don’t hear much after that, I fall fast asleep.

“Goody.” Someone shakes my shoulder. I blink, raising my head from the pillow. I look up to find Joe lying beside me, one hand on my shoulder the other grasping the comic. I am positioned awkwardly on the bed lying half way down the mattress, curled into a little ball. “I let you sleep for an hour, but people are looking for you.” Joe informs me lying back on his pillow, and continuing his reading. I rub my eyes and yawn. Joe let me sleep on his bed. I’ve been asleep for an hour SHIT!

“Oh shit!” I say springing up from my position. I fix my hair and uniform, straightening out the creases in my dress. I pull back the curtain, trying to make it look like I didn’t just fall asleep on a patient’s bed for an hour.

“A thank you would be nice.” I hear from behind me, as Joe stares at me waiting.

“Thank you Joe.” I smile and leave quickly to try and find the other nurses. The rest of the shift is a blur. I don’t think I would’ve made it without the nap Joe let me have. It was so busy I didn’t even get a chance to sit down and they were supposed to let me leave after the morning but they insisted I stayed since it was so hectic, I didn’t have a choice but to stay. I finally gather all of my stuff and head for the door, passing Joe’s bed on my way out.

“Bye Joe.” I say as I leave, not really thinking too much about it.

“Why are you being so nice, Goody?” I hear him pipe up. I sigh and smile as I turn to face him.

“I can be nice, Joe.” I state.

“I don’t know, I don’t like it. What are you up to?” He squints his eyes at me looking suspicious.

“I’m not up to anything!” I counter, “I’m just too tired to have to fight with you.” Without giving him the chance to reply I leave quickly, saying goodbye to the other men on my way out.

#ass-hat #goody #hehe #are we about to kiss rn?#we love the bickering #like an old married couple #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers imagine #band of brothers #joseph liebgott #i hope you all enjoy #enemies to lovers

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madrabit · 2 months

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Ooh you know I'm gonna take you up on this offer of more fantastic BoJan content! Could you please do one with a mix of 15 and 17 ? (A passionate kiss to distract from something) thank you <3

Yes! We need more BoJan (and I know you know that very well :3), there can never be enough of the two of them! And yes, ofc I can do that! I hope you enjoy it!

And for everyone else, feel free to also send me a prompt if you'd like to!

Send me a number and a ship and I'll write you a kiss! 🩷✨️

15. ... passionately + 17. ... to distract

The silence in the room was suffocating. It coated the space in a weird blanket, making every noise stand out and the ticking of the clock on the wall seemed awfully loud.

Jan was tense, his shoulders pulled up, hands clutching at each other, fiddling with a pick he had found in the pocket of his pants, while his jaw was clenched tightly. His breathing was strained, a frown permanently etched onto his face since they had entered the vet office and he was aware of the vibes he was giving off as he shifted on the uncomfortable plastic chair.

A few seats over a small dog barked, drawing Jan's attention with the high pitched sound and the woman holding the dog gave him an apologetic smile, while she shushed the animal. Jan didn't react, instead he let his eyes fly to the informational posters about how to calculate your pets age on the wall in front of him, over the little calendar next to it displaying pictures of kittens, puppies and other small animals and finally landing on a brochure about how to properly care for exotic pets.

"Are you alright, Janči?"

Bojan's voice was quiet, calm and incredibly warm that Jan couldn't help but look away from the picture of a gecko perched on a branch and meet the shorter man's soft brown eyes.

"Yes", he answered shortly, letting out air through his teeth. He flicked the pick, sliding it through his fingers and his leg started to bounce nervously as he threw a look at the clock, still loudly ticking away.

It had been barely five minutes since the nurse had taken Igor from him. He had watched, almost helplessly, as the young woman had carefully taken the pet carrier from his hands. Igor had been quiet, rolled up on Bojan's sweater that they had put in to keep him comfortable. Usually he would have put a fluffy blanket he had specifically bought in the box, but when he had found Igor laying on Bojan's discarded sweater, the cat hadn't wanted to move an inch and buried his claws in the fabric, still holding it in his little paws as Jan had picked him up. Bojan had let out a giggle and had just taken the sweater to lay it out in the transport box for Igor.

"It's okay, he's a brave little kitty", Bojan said softly, reaching for his hand and interlacing their fingers, immediately knowing what was making the taller man this upset. Jan looked down, seeing Bojan's smaller hand in his and while it might have helped usually, the feeling of worry just didn't fade and he was still tensed up.

"I hate that I'm not allowed to be inside with him", he said lowly, squeezing Bojan's hand maybe a bit too hard as the shorter man rubbed his thumb over his knuckles, not that his boyfriend complained.

Jan had felt his heart drop into his pants as he had seen Igor limp last night after coming back from one of his strolls outside, favouring his right hind leg as he hoppled through the living room. The cat didn't go roam the neighbourhood on his own often, preferring to stay inside and cuddle up with him and Bojan on the couch. Most of the time, Jan would go take a walk with him, giving him the space to explore, but still being there for Igor to return to if he felt unsafe.

The dog barked again, whining a bit and Bojan cooed softly at the pomeranian. Jan was sure that his boyfriend already would've asked if he could pet the dog if the older lady hadn't clutched the animal against her chest protectively.

"It'll be over soon and we'll get him back, he'll be fine", Bojan whispered, playing with the dark haired man's fingers.

"Usually I was allowed to come in with him...", Jan grumbled, his leg still bouncing as he looked through the otherwise empty waiting room again. Next to him, Bojan shifted, putting his head on Jan's shoulder. Soft, brown hair tickled his neck as the shorter nuzzled into his hoodie.

The vet was new, taking over the office of the previous doctor, who had retired. Jan had liked the old man a lot, trusted him to take care of Igor and wasn't bothered if he had to stay behind while his little furbaby got treated. But this guy was new. And Jan didn't trust him yet, didn't know if he was good at his job or not.

"They're taking an x-ray, Janči, I'd be surprised if they allowed you in there", Bojan mumbled, pulling Jan's hand into his lap to take it in both of his, giving a reassuring squeeze. Jan let out a huff, the frown deepening even more. He was tempted to pull away, wrap his arms around himself to hide the way he was still fiddling with the pick in his hands. But before he could think about it further, Bojan stood up abruptly, getting Jan onto his feet as well.

The smaller man didn't let go of him as he made his way out of the waiting room, not even as Jan asked him what he was doing. He didn't even answer, just walked over to the little bathroom, opened the door and pushed Jan inside, swiftly following his taller boyfriend into the room.

The click of the lock turning was all Jan could hear before lips attacked his, arms wrapping around his shoulders, a hand on the back of his head pulling him down into a kiss.

Jan let out a surprised little noise, his own hands almost instinctively coming to rest on Bojan's waist, even as he wanted to move away. The singer didn't let him, just pulled him closer as he deepened the kiss, letting his tongue dart out to trace Jan's bottom lip.

It took a few seconds for his brain to catch up, before he reciprocated the kiss, biting Bojan's tongue and letting it slide between his lips. He wrapped an arm around the younger's waist, pulling him closer and leaning even more into it, almost making Bojan bend over backwards as their tongues met.

Bojan moaned softly into the kiss, his hold loosened slightly as he melted against Jan, his hand dropping to the nape of Jan's neck, playing with the slightly shorter hair there. The touch made a shiver run down his back and he let one hand slide under the sweater his boyfriend was wearing, softly caressing the skin on the small of Bojan’s back.

He felt himself relax as the kiss turned messier, mind only focused on walking Bojan a few steps back, pressing the shorter man against the wall next to the sink. His hands slid down further, coming to rest on that plush ass he loved, when a muffled bark ripped him out of the thought.

"We shouldn't do this, what if they are done now", he said lowly as he pulled back, or rather, tried to pull back. Bojan cupped his cheek, turning his head back again to press feather light kisses to Jan's jaw, rubbing his nose over the dark beard, kissing his way up.

"Two minutes", the younger whispered against his lips, "just a little bit longer, yes?"

Bojan stared up at him, dark eyes hooded and soft, so soft that Jan wanted to melt from the warmth they radiated. Instead, he just leaned in again, bringing their lips together in another kiss that had them both gasping for air.

A few minutes later, they stumbled out of the bathroom, making their way back to the waiting room. The woman, still holding her dog, gave them a pointed look, staring at the little red blotch forming on Bojan's neck that the singer had tried to cover up with the collar of his sweater. Jan gave her another frown as they sat down, reaching for Bojan's hand. The scrunched up, sunshine smile he got in return made his nerves relax again.

They barely had to wait for another ten minutes, spending the time talking quietly, when the same nurse from earlier called for them.

"His leg is just sprained", the vet said as soon as they entered the room and Jan felt his body relax in relief, eyes immediately on Igor. The cat was laying on his side on the table, cleaning his front paws while his tail was swishing behind him, showing his discontent at the whole situation. The second he noticed Jan, he stopped, looking up at his human and gave a loud, clearly unhappy meow.

The vet laughed slightly while he looked over Igor's file, noting something down. "He's gonna be alright in a few weeks, but I wouldn't let him out in that time, we wouldn't want him to break a paw."

Jan nodded, stepping towards the table and leaning down to give his cat a little kiss on the head, right between his fluffy ears.

"He's very well mannered, so it went faster than we thought it would. You can go upfront to pay and then you're all done."

"Thanks", Jan said to the man, who just nodded and then walked to one of the doors to disappear into another room, most likely to get back to the lady with the dog.

"Do you want to take him?", Bojan asked as he picked up the transport box, but Jan just shook his head.

"I can't, i have to pay, you should cuddle him a bit, you know how he gets after a vet visit", he answered, taking the box from his boyfriend. Bojan just gave him a sweet smile as he scooped up the little furball in his arms, giggling softly as Igor immediately bumped his face against his chin and started purring.

"Sometimes I think he likes you more than me", Jan said with a grin, finally able to relax completely now that he knew everything was alright.

"No, he doesn't, I'm just the one who gives him treats all the time", Bojan laughed, turning to the door that Jan dutifully opened for him.

"And I think you deserve all the treats today, don't you, Igor?", Jan heard the shorter brunet coo as he made his way to the front desk, the pet carrier slung over his shoulder.

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sluckythewizard · 12 days

Text

BUT IM NOT A WRITER. something strange possessed me to write my first proper fanfic in maybe a decade. be niceys to me but also grill me so i can get stronger. this one is a stupidly self indulgent bit between Soda and Emizel, a day or so after emizel was sired. CW for gore descriptions, but thats about it i think. image below is a snippet of the start. the rest of the whole dang thing will be under the cut. ive never posted fanfic ever in my life. read my tags for secret behind da scenes commentary

"Oh shit… I think hes dead…" It was another night, another patrol, another fight, and another win, for Emizel and Soda.

Under moonlight, under street light, under interwoven wires above, the two stood here in a quiet and damp alleyway. The air was drenched with the smell of a previous rain, and the puddles of said storm remain huddled in corners and pot holes.

One splashed as soda found himself stepping forwards into one. The residual adrenaline of the fight had left his body shaking, his heart still pounding, his wounds still throbbing. They had still won; or more-so, Emizel had won. A particularly nasty blow to the side had Soda reduced to the side lines for most of the fight, left to watch as his newly vampiric comrade had absolutely eviscerated the competition.

Emizel had only been turned a day ago, but it was impossible not to notice how it had changed him. He already acted so goddamn confident, so on top of the world, and this newfound power, newfound speed and strength, only built upon his insane ego.

The Fangs that they encountered here on this night stood no fucking chance. Emizel was too quick, too strong, and he easily chased off the rivals. It was only now, as the final unfortunate opponent had turned to flee, a clean clock in the jaw sent the human tumbling to the ground with a dull thump, and it did not move afterward.

Soda shifts his shoe out of the puddle, the cold seeping into his sock being one of the few things keeping his mind in his body in the moment. Is the guy breathing?

A low laugh bleeds from Emizel as he stretches his arms, licking his sharpened teeth as he stares off in the direction the remaining Fangs went. Soda knew that look on his face, the look of a tiger pondering on its next kill, he knew well that Emizel wanted to chase them.

But the guy on the ground.. It was one punch to the face, and the wicked crack sound that came from it had planted a seeding dread within Sodas chest.

As he steps forward, around the puddle, the resulting sound made Emizels attention click back over to Soda, the snap of his gaze making Soda flinch.

The two lock eyes, and Soda weakly gestures to the limp body on the floor. "The uh.. I think.. Is that guy dead?" He finally asks, having a hard time keeping contact with Emizels intensely red eyes.

Emizel turns his attention to said body, tilting his head as he goes to kick at the thing, turning it over. "Man no way hes dead, I punched him once." He mutters.

"Well, yeah, but his head almost twisted all the way around when you did.." Soda steps up to stand beside Emizel, the two boys standing with their hands in their pockets, down at this unfortunate, limp body.

"Should we hide it?" Soda asks, glancing back over at Emizel, who had.. An odd look on his face. He was clearly pondering something, but Soda could only guess whatever was going on in that brilliant head of his. He knew and trusted that Emizel was smart. If anyone could figure out what to do about this, it would be him.

But the lack of an answer had anxiety chewing at the back of Sodas rib cage, and after a second, he speaks up again, compelled to fill what he perceived as a tense silence. "Like.. I dunno, I've never uh... killed a guy..." He shrugs, prompting Emizel to let out a big sigh.

"He's not dead man, just out fuckin cold." Emizel kneels down next to the body, putting an ear up to its chest, and pondering on that for a moment. An uncertainty twists his expression, as he decides to instead place a hand on the victims throat, checking for a pulse. A moment passes, and seemingly finding nothing, he pulls back.

"Uh... Okay, so he might be dead."

Something about the confirmation from Emizel made a shiver run up Sodas spine. That, or maybe it was just the breeze agitating the cold water in his shoe.

"Huh… Damn.." Was all that Soda could really get to leave his mouth. Which was hardly a splash compared to the torrent that was slowly churning in his head. They just killed a guy. Or, Emizel just killed a guy. And it was so easy. They had to hide the body now, right? That was the usual progression here? Getting caught for murder was way more extreme than getting caught for breaking mailboxes with soda cans. It was so, so disturbingly easy. It really was just one punch. It's not like the Fangs are weak by any means, so just one punch? And this guy is dead? Forever?

Or, perhaps by human means, their rivals were fairly tough. But Emizel was on a whole other level. No mortal could stand up to him now...

"Hey, are you okay?"

The question had pulled Soda back from his head, his gaze flicking back over to Emizel, who was looking up at him with those eerie, piercing red eyes. Soda felt another shiver.

"Uh, ieah man, I'm all good." Soda nods, swallowing down whatever anxiety was bubbling up in his throat.

But Emizel didn't seem satisfied by his answer, standing back up and staring down his human comrade. Soda couldn't meet his eyes, his gaze instead traveling downward, and pausing on Emizels red, cut-up shirt. There was something off about the color, the way it seemed darker in some spots, brighter in others.. Wait, wasn't Emizel wearing a white shirt before all this?

The vampire boy seems to pick up on Sodas expression, following his eyes down to his shirt. "Oh, yeah! While you were on the floor, the knife guy got me a little" He says, a stupidly simple smile on his face. Soda was about to let out a laugh at how unbothered his friend seemed by it, but it gets caught in his throat when Emizel goes to pull his shirt up.

The sound of the bloodied fabric peeling away from skin made Sodas own skin crawl, but that wasn't nearly as bad as the sight of the intense gash running from his collar bone, down to his stomach.

"Oh, fuck dude!" Soda gasps, but Emizel laughs it off. Even despite knowing Emizel well, Soda was still surprised by just how much Emizel could shrug off. "Shit, doesn't that hurt, dude?"

"Oh yeah this fucking hurts!" he says with a laugh, his smile big and toothy and proud as he presents this egregious wound. Swollen and angry, pulsing with a slow heartbeat, and still oozing with thick, dark blood.

The sight of the split flesh, and the glints of bone beneath the dark, dark red all tugged at Sodas gag reflex, and yet he couldn't pull his eyes away. So Emizel's just been walking and talking so normally this whole time with his chest just cleaved wide open? Soda felt just as impressed as he felt horrified.

It wasn't until Emizel reaches down to poke at the abhorrent wound that Soda snaps out of it. Watching his friend press his fingers into the bloodied flesh, and slowly pulling it apart, allowing more ichor to seep from the gash, it was too much to watch at this point.

Soda reaches up to put a hand on Emizels wrist, the vampire boy stopping, and looking up at his friend.

Soda found himself freezing again when he locks eyes with Emizel. He was going to say something now, right? "U-uhm.." Is all he really chokes out, giving Emizels wrist a gentle tug. "D-do you. Uh. I suppose a hospital Isn't a place you can go anymore..?"

Emizel just smirks at that, letting Soda pull his hand away from the wound. "Oh, yeah no, but it's fine. I mean, I don't think it's gonna kill me" He shrugs. It was so, so impressive just how unphased Emizel was by all this. Fuck he's actually so cool.

"Well yeah man but it's like, still a bleeding hole. Like you're soaked in blood dude, I'm pretty sure that even a vampire needs that stuff on like, the inside." Soda rubs the back of his head, still unnerved by the sight of it all. "Vampires have like, super healing, don't they?"

"Oh yeah like, regeneration powers. I know I heal faster sometimes but I dunno how to just, activate it on command.." Emizel hums, his eyes narrowing down at his own injury, as if trying to will it into mending. Soda looks away, unable to watch that vile gash ooze any longer.

"I dunno man, how do they do it in like, video games?" Soda tosses the question out, trying to click together some sort of solution in his own head.

"Uhhh.. Huh, video games.." Emizel repeats to himself, chewing on the thought while idly poking at the laceration; until an idea audibly flickers to life in his head. "Oh, I just gotta refill my blood meter. Or whatever."

"Oooh yeah, blood meter!" Soda perks up, "Of course, see this is why you're the brains, man" Soda smiles, glancing back over to his cool friend, but immediately needing to look away again when the sight of that egregious gash tugs bile back into his throat.

While Soda averts his eyes, Emizels eyes wander back over to the body, and that classic 'Emizel has a bad idea' smile creeps across his face.

"Well, if this guys dead, I'm sure he's not gonna need all that blood.." He grins, kneeling down next to the body again.

The word 'wait' had hardly gotten the chance to crawl from Sodas mouth, before Emizel lifts up the arm of the unfortunate body, pulling the sleeve back, and immediately sinking his teeth into the exposed wrist.

The sound and the sight of blood gushing around Emizels teeth made Soda cringe, his hand impulsively coming up to aide his own wrist. An empathetic phantom pain made his wrist ache, his imagination simulating the feeling of shark teeth cutting into skin, sinking deep into the flesh, and clacking against bone. That was a lot of blood, that was streaming down the arm of this fodder.

A low growl bleeds from Emizel as he adjusts his teeth, cutting into more flesh, opening the wound further, and allowing a pulsing torrent of red to stream down his chin, onto his coat. It was an annoying thing, to clean blood out of clothing. Most of the Demons deemed it easier to just let the stains remain. But the night that Emizels throat was torn open, and liters upon liters were granted freedom from his human form, the unbelievable mess had practically changed half the color of Emizels iconic coat.

That was the first time Soda had ever seen that much blood from one person. And well. This would probably be the second.

The sight was unnerving, but it was impossible to look away. The alley was quiet, save for the distant bustle of a distant city, which made the noisy squish and squelch of teeth gnawing on flesh all the more apparent and nauseating.

Emizel had become a monster for sure, and watching it feed on something was… thrilling, in a way. It reminded Soda of feeding a pet spider, or lizard. A mouse for a snake.

It's a heavy thing to witness, the end of a human life. The fear of death is a primal thing, and Soda was no different from any other living thing. He figured everyone else feared death just as much as he does. Well, maybe except for Emizel, of course.

It made sense. Emizel was such a cocky and noisy kind of guy, but hes always had the power to back it up. Even when he lost, or seemed at his lowest, Soda still saw this sort of fire in him, one that Soda admired.

Of course Emizel would be the one to become something like a vampire. Something that Soda had always figured was just a fantasy creature thing. He wondered; if vampires were real, what else was real? Werewolves? Zombies? Unicorns? Are there real demons? Like from hell? Is hell real? Is he going to hell?

The sudden ttteeeeaaaaarrrr of flesh rips soda from his wandering thoughts. Emizel was tugging his head away from the arm of his kill, his teeth clamped down into the chewed meat, and pulling it apart. Soda had seldom seen so much of the inside of a human arm, and the sight of spilling threads and squirming veins was hardly something he ever wanted to stomach again.

"Oh fuck, dude, hey-" Soda steps forward, raising a hand, but the way Emizel snaps his head back over to him, twisting to an unnatural degree, Soda cant help jolting back.

Reddened teeth glint menacingly in the low light, a threatening growl thundering from its clenched, dripping jaws. Emizels eyes were focused, yet wild, glowing with whatever light they could reflect.

Sodas eyes were wide, and his body was frozen in the thick, electric tension within the air. It was like staring down an angry dog.. Suddenly a light bulb in his head flickers to life. It was kind of like an angry dog, right? One hunched over a meal it didn't want to give up. Memories of old encounters and unfortunate dog bites resurface in Sodas head, and with that experience, and with those lessons learned, he gathers the courage to react.

He shuts his eyes, keeping them closed for a few seconds, as he slowly pulls back his arm, and slowly steps back. It was an eye contact thing, wasn't it? Eye contact makes dogs angry, right? That was how you dealt with an angry dog? As he pulls back, and takes in a breath for composure, he finally dares to peek at the angry vampire before him again.

Its snarling had died down, but its eyes were still trained intently on Soda. After a tense, and agonizingly, slow pause... It blinks back, lowering its head back down to its meal, but keeping its anxious stare on this potential threat.

A relieved sigh falls from soda as the tension finally melts. He didnt realize he was holding in so much of his breath. "O-okay, man.. It's yours, you uh.. Earned it.." Soda mutters, stepping back further, until he was standing in a sufficiently dry enough space to sit down in. Now that he wasn't standing, he was finally taking into mind just how much his hands were shaking.

It's odd. Soda couldn't really describe this feeling thrumming in his chest as something like fear.. Nausea? For sure. Disturbed and rattled? Oh absolutely. This was certainly a sight he would have a hard time scrubbing from his eyelids when he sleeps tonight. But he wasn't scared. The memory of the night that Emizel was sired still coated the inside of his mind like an unwashable film. Even in that moment, when the unnatural teeth from the unnatural maw of an unnatural thing hovered over his throat, he couldn't say with confidence that he was scared.

Emizel really is his best friend in the world. And he knows with his whole heart that Emizel feels the same. He knew and trusted that his best friend would never hurt him. Not too badly at least. He loves Emizel, and would give anything to support him.

Like a mouse to a snake.

This really is an incredible power that his comrade had come across, and Soda especially felt a sort of pride in his friend. He felt it was worth it to help him feed it.

The bile in his throat had made its point, and Soda agreed, that watching someone die, and get torn apart and drained might be too much for him. Despite how much he hated the Fangs, the end of any human life seemed like such a jarring thing. To have such an intense fear finally get confronted. Would he go to hell?

Maybe he couldn't just feed people to his friend. So an alternative could be donated blood, right? Soda wouldn't mind giving up something like blood. His body makes it for free, after all. Maybe some other Demons would agree to give up some blood too. But they shouldn't have to take on such a burden. Soda wouldn't mind being the only one. The only one. The only one.

His hand comes up to rub at his neck, as his imagination conjures up what it might feel like to have teeth sink into his flesh. He's been stabbed before, is that sort of what it would feel like? Would he have to get stitches? He didn't really want to get stitches, so maybe there could be a more effective way to get the blood out of him. And there was so much vital stuff in his neck too. There's' a vein that's safe to cut into somewhere, right? He would have to look that up later.

A STARTLING RINGING;

Splits the moment,

Prompting both Soda and Emizel to jolt in shock,

As the phone in Emizels pocket rings away.

Acting as if nothing abnormal had taken place, Emizel pulls out his phone, and answers it.

"Heyy, Johnny! Yeah we chased em off, I don't think those bastards will be infesting this street again anytime soon. Yeah, ieah we'll be heading back soon. Oh fuck yeah dude, save us some!"

Emizel covers the speaker of his Nokia, turning back to Soda with a big smile on his violently bloodied face. "They got some pizza waiting for us back home, dude!" he whispers out to him.

Soda does his best to crack a smile, and to suppress the look of unease that probably stained his face, as he stares at the literal murder scene that's been splattered about in front of him.

"Oh, yeah, hell yeah man.." He swallows down the bile again. "What kind of uh.. Soda did they get?"

Emizel ponders that, before turning back to the phone to ask Sodas question.

"Sprite and a big pack of that one strawberry mountain dew" Emizel tosses the answer back over to Soda, who gives a nod, and thumbs up.

Mountain dew is so neat, Soda really liked all the wacky flavors those guys come up with. The thought of going home and opening a can of soda was certainly a comfort. After witnessing all this blood and gore and viscera, Soda absolutely needed to get back home and get a nice cold glass of something bright red .

As Sodas mind wanders off to soda, Emizel wraps up the conversation on the phone, before hanging up, and standing up.

The movement had pulled Sodas mind back into the moment, enough for him to timidly voice a concern he's had since the start of this debacle.

"Uh, hey, so.. The body, should we… Uh.." He gestures vaguely to it, and Emizel grants it a nonchalant glance.

"Eh, I can toss it into a dumpster or something, I dunno. I'm sure its fine. I'll handle it."

The vampire boy goes to pick up the corpse, the wound in its mangled arm no longer even dripping with blood, the flesh pale from the absolute absence of red in its veins.

"Go ahead and meet me by that one mailbox, the one with the bullet hole in it." Emizel casually instructs, tossing the drained body over his shoulder. "I'll catch up."

"Uh, yeah, okay.." Soda musters up a nod, and the strength to rise back up to his feet, wincing as that bruise on his side makes itself loudly known again. He still felt anxious, but even despite it all, he knew he could trust Emizel to take care of things. He always does. "Just stay safe man, I'll see you there." Soda assures with a smile, and Emizel matches it, tossing him a wink. And then suddenly- -He's gone! If Soda had blinked he would've missed it, but he was fortunate enough to just barely catch the glimpse of Emizel darting off at an inhuman speed, probably looking for a place to dump the body. Right, he would take care of it. Emizel always makes sure his crew is taken care of. Well... Guess all that's left for Soda is for him to walk back to that meeting spot. He looks around the alley for a moment, taking in the sight of that enormous pool of blood in the middle of the concrete. Or whatever the floor of this alley is made from. He ponders on the present moment a little longer than he meant to, the shock of it all leaving him aimless for just a few, soothing moments of just, decompression. The night is quiet, vast, and cold, but the stresses of just the past 5 hours had left his body radiating with fiery aches and pains, so the chill of the occasional clawing breeze was welcomed. Except for when said breeze agitated the cold water still soaked into his sock. He should step in another puddle on his way back to even it out. The smell of rain still rested heavy in the air, heralding another storm on the horizon. There was that, and then, well, there was also the blood. The stench of it felt far too intense to just ignore it, the metallic miasma making itself maliciously unmistakable. Maybe the impending storm will wash this mess away... He looked forward to putting this unfortunate night behind him. With one last rattled, but deep breath, he stuffs his hands in his pockets, and turns away, strolling back over to the mailbox that Emizel had described.

He couldn't wait to get home and drink some soda with his friends.

#NO TAGS ON THIS ONE BC WELL. IM SHY. IM TAKING A BIG LEAP JUST BY ALLOWING U TO REBLOG THIS. IF IT BREAKS CONTAINMENT THATS UR FAULT.#i unfortunately suffer from the disease of 'i hate everything i write the day after i write it' BUT IM GETTING TREATED #I WILL NOT BE HAUNTED BY THIS WEAKNESS FOREVER. AND HEY LOOK THIS IS THE FIRST ACTUAL FIC BIT IVE EVER FINISHED..#ITS SOMETHING TO BE PROUD OF!! AND BY JOBE I WILL BE PROUD EVEN IF I HATE IT.#i dont always need to be the one who likes my art bc i know Someone out there will always enjoy it.#and to that someone i say: omg thankyou i LOOOOVEE YOUUUUUU!!!!!#JUST DELETED A WHOLE RAMBLE I JUST HAD ABT NERVOUS DISCLAIMERS FOR MY ART BUT I DONT NEED EM!!#GET CONFIDENT GET CONFIDENT GET CONFIDENT. ANYWAY. so emizel and soda huh #THEYRE SO CUTE TOGEEHTERRRR TEEHEHEHEHEEEE they are the homies that kiss eachother goodnight like CMON #but uhh so hey your bestest friend in da world just got turned into a freaky creature thing that eats ppl #ieah yknowthe guy that u care about alot that u had to watch get bled out by another freaky creature thing in an alleyway #yeaaah and you were super hurt and weak and stupid and u couldnt do jack nor shit to help him #what was i talking about again. RIGHT so hes even cooler now bc he cant die n hes super strong n his arms can be knives. sometimes.#but also he can eat people now. and sometimes he cant stop himself from eating people. and thats kinda scary. but in a cool way.#but also in a disturbing way. but also in an interesting way?but also in a freaky way.the feelings ARE MIXED!!!ATLEAST I THINK THEY WOULD B #okay again i havnt listened to the suckening ina bit. so its been a minute since i absorbed their personalities. i could be misreading or #misremembering or misconstruing or mischaracterizing or WHATEVER. i think the confusion carries its intended effect #LOSING MY TRAIN O THOUGHT. anyway i love soda n emizel i hope they get locked in a saw trap together or somethign. for enrichment.#TALOS GRANT ME THE STRENGHT TO POST MY CREATIONS ON LINE!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUGHHH!!!!!!!

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