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burntheedges · 3 months

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KATE! Your conversation heart says: SO SWEET!

And now your ask!!

Joel acts like he doesn't care about Valentine's Day, but you know he secretly likes a little fuss. How would you surprise him?💗

I love this question, Megan! I was thinking about it all last night and then whoops, I wrote this.

hearts

joel miller x gn!reader | 1.4k words | ao3 tags/warnings: fluff, post-outbreak, established relationship, drink mention (coffee), not betaed

...

Joel closed the front door behind him and slumped against it, tired. He was always at least a little bit tired, these days, but today had really been something else. From his patrol partner's horse throwing a shoe to their slow trek back that took twice as long as normal to Tommy yanking him into some meeting about renovations for the dining hall to Maria pulling him aside to talk about patrol assignments, it was getting to be too much. He wasn't used to having all of these people looking for his advice or needing his time, not anymore.

He was home early for once, but he was absolutely exhausted. He took a moment to just breathe, leaning against the inside of the door, eyes closed. He marveled briefly at the fact that he was standing in his own house, a house that he somehow shared with you, and took a deep breath. He shook his head and reached down to pull off his boots.

As he did so, Joel’s attention was caught by something unexpected.

There was a small paper heart sitting in the spot where he normally left his boots by the front door. His brow furrowed as he reached for it. It was blank, but he flipped it over and saw the number 1 in what he suspected was your handwriting. He huffed a short laugh, shaking his head.

He slipped his boots into their normal spot and stood with a muffled groan, heart in hand. He glanced around the hallway but didn't see any other hearts, so he pocketed it and headed for the kitchen.

Standing at the counter, his hands moved almost without his conscious input to reach for his mug and the coffee pot. If he hadn't been keeping an eye out, on alert for something, he surely would have missed it. He glanced down just as he was about to pour his coffee and found another heart waiting in the bottom of his mug.

Fighting a tug at the corner of his mouth, Joel slipped it out between two fingers and flipped it over. Sure enough, the number 2 greeted him. He fought a smile as he tucked it in his pocket and poured his coffee.

Turning slowly, he let his eyes sweep over the rest of the kitchen, but didn't see any hearts. He decided to follow his normal path and started to walk to the living room, coffee in hand. He set it on the side table and fell back onto the couch. He pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers and closed his eyes, taking a moment to rest after his long day.

Shaking it off, he glanced over the living room, but he didn't see any hearts in here, either. As he reached his hand out for his coffee, though, he felt it brush against something, and looked over to find a heart tucked underneath the corner of the picture frame on the side table. The picture was a polaroid of you and Ellie, making silly faces for the camera. He couldn't fight the smile this time as he flipped the heart over and found the number 3 waiting for him.

Joel reached into his pocket for the other two and lined them up on his thigh, looking at them as he sipped his coffee. He wasn't sure what to do next. Were there more hearts waiting for him? Where would they be? He usually came home, took off his boots, grabbed a drink (coffee, typically, on long days) and sat on the couch for a bit. Sometimes he read a little or played guitar, but he’d finished his book last night and he could see his guitar on its stand by the fireplace. No hearts.

He rubbed his jaw with one hand as he finished his coffee, considering. He tucked his hearts back in his pocket as he stood and headed back to the kitchen to put his mug in the sink.

As he did so, he looked through the window over the sink to the front yard, and noticed a heart tucked into the frame of the window on the right side. He wouldn't have been able to see it from his spot by the coffee pot earlier, he realized.

Fighting an outright grin, he slipped it out from behind the frame and flipped it over – 4. He tucked it into his pocket carefully.

Exhaustion lifted from his shoulders as he spun around, on the hunt now. You'd predicted his every move so far and he wracked his brain to figure out what you'd think he would do next. He started heading for the stairs, thinking about how sometimes he liked to change his customary flannel out for a sweatshirt on cold days. You'd found one for him on a patrol and beamed when you gave it to him, proud of the gift.

Joel almost jogged up the stairs, turning into the bedroom you shared and heading straight for the dresser. He slid the drawer open and frowned as he saw his sweatshirt was not in its usual location. But then he shut the drawer and turned, and realized it was lying on the bed like you'd carefully set it out for him. He'd missed it as he’d almost run into the room.

Sitting right in the middle of the Texans logo on the front of the sweatshirt was a heart – 5. He couldn't fight the grin anymore as he slipped off his flannel and slipped on the sweatshirt. There was a warm feeling building in his chest at being so seen, so known.

Hearts in his pocket, Joel turned and headed back into the hallway. He stopped at the top of the stairs, unsure what to do next. 5 hearts, 5 stops on his usual path after arriving at home. But what next?

As he stood there, wondering where to go next, he heard the unmistakable noise of someone walking down the back porch steps into the backyard. He smiled and headed down the stairs, turning sharply at the bottom to look for you.

The sight that greeted him in the backyard chased away any remaining worries he was holding onto from his day. You were standing in the middle of the yard, arms crossed, back to him as you relaxed in the afternoon sun. He leaned against the porch railing and watched, smiling.

"You comin' down here, Miller?" You didn't turn as you called out to him, but he could hear the smile in your voice.

"Appreciatin' the view." His voice was deep and gravely, and he watched with interest as you shivered. He pushed off the railing and walked down the steps, long strides making quick work of the grass between you. Before you could even start to turn he slipped his arms around your waist and buried his face in your neck.

"What's all this about, baby?" He pressed a kiss to your shoulder and you sighed.

"Did you find them all?" You smiled as his arms tightened around you.

"I found 5. Were there more?"

"Just one." You grinned even though he couldn't see it and guided his hand to slip inside your jeans pocket, where the last heart was waiting for him. This one wasn't numbered, and you leaned into his embrace as he flipped it over to read it over your shoulder.

Happy Valentine's Day, Joel. I love you.

You watched as he carefully closed his fingers around the heart and felt him pull you even closer. "I love you too, darlin'. Sorry I don't have anything for you."

You shook your head. "I already got what I want, valentine."

He huffed, and you knew he knew you meant him. "You sure about that? Seems like a bad deal. Might be gettin' swindled."

You turned in his arms and slipped yours around his waist, looking up to meet his eyes. He looked apprehensive, which just wouldn't do.

"I know you, Joel Miller. And I know that you're exactly what I want."

You watched his smile take over his face before he ducked his head.

"Well, in that case, let me make you dinner, baby." He pressed a soft kiss to your lips and you smiled into it. "And then I’ll show you how happy I am to be your valentine." He kissed you again.

"Deal." You let him turn you and you walked back inside your home with his arm around your shoulder and yours around his waist.

...

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x gn!reader #valentines day #joel miller fanfiction #ask me anything #x reader #tlou fic

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loubombshell · 1 year

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Imagine Nikolai being drunk.

Nikolai Lantsov x Fem!Reader

It was a beautiful evening. The sun started to set, turning the entire sky into a beautiful red while the ocean reflected the color. A refreshing breeze blew trough y/n's hair, making her take a deep breath from the salty taste of the wind. Her eyes followed the wind, that filled their sail. Most of the time a Squaller was responsible for the wind, carrying them around the ocean, but right now they had enough of it to sail on their own. Y/n sat on a bench near the railing just enjoying the view and the sound of the waves.

A shadow walked up behind her and sat down next to her, one on her left and one on her right. The girl turned around and looked at Tolya and Tamar joining her.

"Do you need anything from me?" She asked with a little smirk.

"Don't act like we just come around when we need something." Tolya scoffed.

"The last time you talked to me was- wait let me think." Y/n put a finger on her chin, pretending to really think. "Oh yes! It was when you lost your sword and thought Nikolai added it to his weapon collection." She chuckled about it.

Tamar laughed a bit about the conversation and put a hand on Y/n's shoulder.

"You're not completely wrong. It's about Nikolai, he and the whiskey got pretty close to each other- like really close." Tamar told her honestly and Y/n sighed a bit about it.

"On my way." Y/n added and made her way under deck. She didn't hear him singing old sailor songs, which is a good sign.

So far, so good.

The creaky door opened, revealing Nikolai's chambers. There was a desk, with different maps either drawn by him or getting ripped from a book. The lamps hanging from the ceiling swayed to the left and right with the rhythm of the waves, that were hitting the ship.

In the middle of it, Nikolai stumbling from left to right also with the direction of the waves. Y/n had to bite her lips a bit, trying to hold her laugh, she came in and closed the door behind her.

Nikolai turned around by the sound of the closing door, looking at his girlfriend standing in the room too, he let out a drunken smile.

"Y/n!" He raised his arms happily. "The girl of my dreams." He chuckled and walked towards her. "Whoops." He let out when he swayed pretty much to the left side.

"Princess of my Kingdom. My leading Star. Fire of my love and-" Nikolai called her and put both of his hands on her shoulders, as soon as he reached her.

Y/n crossed her arms infront if her chest and raised her eyebrows up. "Are you finished?" She stopped him.

"-and my little mermaid." He smirked and tapped her with a finger on her nose.

The girl was charmed by his words, even if he won't remember them the next day. She wanted to keep a straight face, but after his last sentence she lost it.

"I hope you know, that alcohol isn't good for you and your body." She told him honestly. "You're not going to get older than 40 when you keep doing." She added.

"Are you saying you're going to miss me in a few years then?" He smirked.

"Of course dumbass. I want to see your beautiful face in wrinkles." Y/n joked smirking.

Nikolai looked horrified to her and touched his own face.

"Oh no! I never thought of this." He admitted.

Y/n laughed even more about it. "Come on, let's get you to bed." She took his hand and lead him towards his bed.

"You could've just said so many minutes ago." Nikolai smirked but Y/n couldn't take him seriously with his drunk face. She just shook her head with a smile and pushed him into bed, helping him to take off the shoes and threw them into some corner of the room and sat down on the side of his mattress.

"Are you going to sing for me now?" Nikolai asked with a smirk and looked to her.

"If you want me to wake a shark up, sure." She told him smirking. She was a terrible singer, but she had her qualities elsewhere.

Nikolai chuckled a bit about it. "I can teach you, I'm a great singer." He smirked arrogant. "Do I get a goodnight kiss?" He leaned on his elbows.

Y/n rolled her eyes with a smirk and leaned towards, wanting to give him a little kiss to the cheek but in the last moment her turned his head and she kissed his lips instead. The girl didn't pull back, she stayed like this for a few seconds before ending the kiss with a smile.

"You taste like alcohol, idiot." She pushed him back into the pillow with a smirk and stood up again.

"You're not going to join me?" Nikolai asked her.

Y/n shook her head laughing. "Goodnight, Nikolai." She closed his door and walked over to the little cabinet with his liquors in it, she grabbed every bottle and walked upstairs again with the many bottles drowning every single one in the Sea.

#nikolai lantsov #nikolai lanstov x y/n #nikolai lanstov x reader #shadow and bone #Shadow and bone x reader #Shadow and Bone imagines #patrick gibson #nikolai lantsov imagine #nikolai lantsov x you

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bucking-mustangs-with-wings · 1 month

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buckxbucky Band/Punk AU

Bucky was so hungover it wasn't funny, the first day of the festival was all a blur of amazing fucking music and clashing bodies and alcohol, a lot of alcohol. His head felt like it was being jack-hammered from the inside and his brain was about to liquefy out of his ear-holes. "Curt, man, I love you, but I really wanna go back to the hotel, I feel like I'm gonna hurl and if I do it's gonna be all over you," he slurred, holding a hand up to try and shield his squinted eyes from the sun that seemed too bright at that moment. Curt's grip on the front of his tank top didn't budge as he pulled a half-blind Bucky through the mingling wall of bodies towards the stage, one of the bands just finishing up their set. Fuck, why did everything have to be so loud? "Too bad, Bucky. Not my fault you turned into a fish on the first night of the damn festival. I wanna watch this next band and I'm not gonna let you make me miss 'em." Bucky could only grumble as he was dragged along until they made it to the barriers, right up in front of the stage and as close as they could get to the music and the bands lined up to play. The current band was just finishing up, shouting their thanks and appreciation out to the crowd. The sound of the cheers and feedback from the speakers turned Bucky's stomach and made his head throb even harder, but he had promised Curt he'd go with him every day of the festival, especially when he saw how excited Curt was to see a certain band. He'd managed to weasel out of him that he'd developed a crush on the drummer, a guy called Ken Lemmons. Who was Bucky to deny his best friend from seeing the latest object of his obsession and affection? Bucky squinted up at the stage "What did you say these guys were called again?" "The B-17's" Curt repeated for what was probably the millionth time since they'd made it into the city. As if on queue, the giant screens at the back and sides of the stage changed to the band's name, B-17's lighting up in giant white graphics as music started blasting through the speakers. Bucky couldn't help the smile that Curt's enthusiastic whooping caused, but his smile faded slightly when he looked up onto the stage as the band started filtering out, five guys running out onto it to get to their positions. He felt his jaw go slack at the sight of the guy who grabbed the mic, piercing blue eyes that Bucky was actually close enough to see scanning out at the hundreds of people in the crowd, a blinding perfect smile splitting his face as a hand came up to brush unruly dark blond hair out of his face. The guy looked like a fucking angel. Tattoos peaked out slightly from the sleeves of a blue overshirt. Bucky couldn't hear a damn word that was being said as the guy started speaking to the crowd, grin never wavering. "See something you like there, Bucky?" Curt teased knowingly from beside him. He didn't have to look at his friend to see the playful smirk that was on his best friend's face. When the guy started singing though, a deep and absolutely perfect voice projecting from the giant speakers on either side of the stage, all Bucky could think was Ohhhhh fuck...

This is gonna go into my slowly growing WIP folder now, so get ready for me to absolutely brainrot over this now in between writing and contunuing Game of Survival (it will be continued, so don't stress, it's my first baby, it's not being abandoned 😂😂)

BONUS the song that Buck would end up writing and performing on stage for Bucky in the future:

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heart-of-gold-outlaw · 5 months

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Happy Holidays, You Idiot (Soap x Ghost)

By the fucking grace of God, the 141 gets leave for the holidays. Soap almost feels like kissing someone. It's been too long since he's been home, and even longer since he's seen his family. He's looking forward to it—can't wait, really—but then he hears that Ghost will be spending Christmas alone and, well... that just won't do. One thing leads to another, and that's how Soap winds up back home, masked L.T. in tow, ready to brave the season... and pretend he doesn't have a massive crush on his superior officer.

Too bad Soap's family can see right through him. Hopefully Ghost is a little more oblivious.

AO3

It's a goddamn Christmas miracle. It has to be. Lately, leave's been few and far between for the rest of the base, let alone the 141, and Soap had already prepared himself for the inevitable "no, I won't be able to make it home for the holidays" conversation he'd need to have with his mother. She always understands, eventually, even though Soap knows it kills her to not have her youngest home for Christmas. Still, she usually tells him not to get himself into too much trouble, and Soap pretends he doesn't hear the worry in her voice.

"I know ye can handle yourself, dear," she'd told him one Easter, "but please tell me ye've got someone to look after ye."

"Aye, Ma, I do," he'd reassured her. "We all take care o' each other." Then, before he could stop himself: "And nobody's takin' me down while Ghost's still breathin'."

"Ghost?" Soap had winced at the curiosity in her voice. "Is he the one with the mask in that picture ye sent us?"

"Aye, that'd be him."

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, he's a right terror!"

Soap had laughed, told her she didn't know the half of it, and that had been enough to get her to stop worrying for the time being. He hadn't made it home for Christmas that year, either, but his mother seemed a little more okay with it since she knew he was in good hands.

Now, though, Soap can hardly believe it as Price announces they can all go home for a few weeks. There's a barely hidden smile on the Captain's face as Gaz lets out an excited whoop and immediately dashes towards his room to start packing. Soap tries not to immediately follow suit. He's excited, sure, but he knows that if he starts getting ready now, he'll finish too early and have nothing to do until the plane takes off. The anticipation would just about kill him.

His eyes flick to Ghost, who takes the news as silently as he takes everything else. Briefly, Soap thinks he sees a flash of something behind the mask, but it's gone before he can think too much about it. He frowns. Ghost never takes leave, never talks about it. As far as Soap knows, he stays on base if he can, doesn't tell anybody where he goes if he can't. Regardless, Soap's pretty sure Ghost is alone no matter the occasion.

The thought of his lieutenant spending the holidays by himself makes Soap's heart twist. When Price leaves to start making preparations of his own, Soap jogs to catch up to Ghost, who's already halfway out of the room. Ghost glances down at him, eyebrow raised, but doesn't say anything that would suggest Soap should clear out.

"So," Soap says as casually as he can. "We get t' go home for the holidays. Bit of a surprise, eh l.t?"

Ghost lifts one shoulder in half of a shrug. "Bound to happen eventually."

"My ma's gonna be thrilled. Da, too." Soap smiles, already looking forward to seeing them both. "And I s'pose I should tell my brothers as well. Bastards."

At this, Ghost finally looks at him. "You have brothers?"

"Aye." Soap rolls his eyes. "Two of them. They just about skinned me alive when I enlisted, said if they wound up burying me, they'd dig me up just to kill me again." He snorts at the memory. "I'm the youngest, so I guess it's their job to give me hell."

Ghost huffs at that, something halfway between a laugh and a scoff, and Soap grins.

"What about you?" Soap can feel his curiosity threatening to drown him. "What are ye gonna do with all this free time, eh?"

For a moment, Ghost doesn't answer. If Soap wasn't watching him, he would have missed the way his eyes widened ever so slightly behind the mask, the way his shoulders tensed like he's ready for a fight. It must be a sore subject, and Soap feels his smile dim a bit.

"Ye don't have to tell me," he starts, but Ghost is already shaking his head.

"Thought I might stay here," he says, like it's normal and obvious and decidedly not the saddest thing Soap's heard all day. Brown eyes glance over at him, and Ghost must see something on his face, because he shrugs again and continues: "Holidays don't do much for me."

Soap gapes at him. "But it's Christmas."

"It's December 10th, Johnny."

"Ach, ye ken what I mean." Soap rolls his eyes, recognizing the diversion for what it is. "So... what? Ye'll spend the whole time on base?"

Ghost hums. He sounds entirely unbothered by the whole situation. "Something like that."

He's clearly trying to get Soap to drop the subject, and indeed, there isn't much to go on. But Soap's not so easily deterred. The holidays are a big deal in his family—especially Christmas—and he can't imagine anyone wanting to spend them alone.

That's when the idea hits him: the wonderful, beautiful, absolutely idiotic idea that's sure to get him in more trouble than he's worth.

"Well now," he says, his smile returning with a vengeance. "I can't have ye spendin' Christmas by yerself, Ghost."

As soon as the words leave his mouth, Soap knows he's in for it. He doesn't regret them, not in the slightest, but it's far too late to take them back.

Ghost eyes him suspiciously. "What's that s'posed to mean?"

"It means," Soap isn't sure why his heart suddenly beats a little faster in his chest, but he skillfully keeps it from showing, "that yer comin' with me."

It's definitely not protocol to give a command to his superior officer. And it shows. Ghost stops walking so abruptly that his boots almost squeak on the floor, and he slowly cranes his head to the side until he's staring down at Soap. For a moment, Soap's not sure he's going to survive long enough to make it home for the holidays, and he starts going through a mental catalogue of people he wants at his funeral.

Great. Wonder what cemetery my brothers'll have to dig me out of.

Ghost keeps staring at him, face carefully neutral. Neither one of them so much as breathes.

"What?" Ghost eventually asks, breaking the silence. His voice sounds like he's swallowed a bag of rocks.

It's even harder than usual for him to focus, what with Ghost's eyes, still smudged with greasepaint, looking at him so intently. But Soap holds his ground. He can already feel the corners of his lips twitching with another mischievous smile.

"I said," he continues, rolling his shoulders back, "yer comin' with me. To Glasgow. For Christmas."

Ghost shakes his head. "No."

"Yes."

"Johnny..." A warning.

Soap chuckles and punches Ghost lightly on the arm, pretending that his skin doesn't light up at the contact. "Aw, c'mon l.t," he whines. "It'll be fun! Da always makes too much food anyways, an' I can show ye around the city."

"I don't—" Ghost rubs the back of his neck and looks away. "I don't do holidays, Johnny."

"That's because ye've never spent them with my family." Soap practically bounces on his feet as Ghost starts walking again. "Ye can still wear the mask, if that's what yer worried about."

Ghost huffs out a sigh. "That's not—I'm not worried about anything, Sergeant. I just don't think it's a good idea."

"It's a great idea!" Soap knows he's practically begging at this point, but he can't bring himself to care. Nobody deserves to spend Christmas alone. Not even Ghost. "An' if ye won't come with me, then I'll stay here... but yer gonna have to explain to m' Ma why she won't be seein' her babe."

It's a low blow for sure, but if Soap's learned one thing in the 141, it's that in order to win, you have to fight dirty. He sees the exact moment it works, watches as Ghost glowers at him like he's ten seconds away from ripping Soap's head off with his bare hands. Soap just beams at him.

"Fine," Ghost grinds out through his teeth.

He sounds irritated, but there's a hint of softness in his eyes that Soap's learned is mostly reserved for him. His heart does a flip, but he forces it back down before it can beat out of his chest.

"Knew ye'd warm up to me, l.t," he says, patting Ghost on the arm again before turning around. The entire time, he'd been walking in the opposite direction of his room. "Just ye wait: we're gonna have a blast!"

/ / /

The full gravity of what he's done doesn't hit Soap until later that evening. He's in the mess hall when it happens, listening to Gaz rattle on about what to get his little sister for Christmas. Admittedly, Soap isn't really paying attention. His mind keeps wandering back to Ghost. The man was really prepared to spend the holidays alone. Worse than that, he was prepared to spend them on base. Soap knows Ghost is a private man, probably doesn't get out much even when he does go home. It sounds like a lonely life. Not that that's too unusual—in their line of work, it's all part of the gig.

Still, it doesn't sit right. Soap has to wonder what happened in Ghost's past that turned him into who he is today.

"—oap. Soap. Are you even listening?"

Gaz's voice brings Soap back to reality. He blinks, disoriented, and then smiles apologetically.

"Sorry Gaz," he says. "I was thinkin' about something else."

Rolling his eyes, Gaz reaches for his cup of water. There's a barely-noticeable smirk on his lips as he takes a sip. "Those thoughts have anything to do with a certain masked l.t?"

Soap groans, head tilting back to hit the wall with a dull thunk. "How'd ye know?"

"It's not that hard to guess."

Sighing, Soap leans forward and absently mixes the mashed potatoes on his tray. He hopes Gaz is the only one who can read him so well.

"Can I ask you a direct question?" Gaz says after maybe three seconds of silence.

Soap shrugs and shoves a forkful of mashed potatoes into his mouth. "Shoot."

"Are you two fucking?"

He inhales the potatoes instead of swallowing them, and nearly hacks up a lung trying to get them out. Gaz watches him instead of helping. There's a knowing look in his eyes that makes Soap's face flush.

"Gaz, what the fuck?" He chokes.

To his credit, Gaz doesn't waver, just keeps looking at Soap with that same steady smirk. "Well?"

"No!" Soap vehemently shakes his head. "I'm not—he's not... I don't even think he... Gaz!"

Gaz laughs and slides Soap's tray away from him. "Calm down, MacTavish, it was just a question."

"Pretty personal one."

Without his food to mess with, Soap bounces his leg up and down underneath the table. Gaz gives him a shit-eating grin, tips his fingers in a mock salute, and downs the rest of his water.

"For the record," he says, ignoring Soap as he glares at him, "I think you two would be cute together. I mean, you're obviously head over heels for the guy—"

"I am not."

Gaz quirks an eyebrow. "Really?" He lowers the glass of water to give Soap a look. "Then why'd you ask him to spend Christmas with you?"

Soap's eyes widen. "How did ye—"

"Price."

It takes a moment for the name to register, and then Soap drops his head into his hands. Great. Ghost must've complained to their Captain, and now word's going to go around the whole base. Price may be good at keeping classified information a secret, but he's terrible when it comes to gossip.

"He was going to spend Christmas alone, Gaz," Soap finally says. "Christmas. What was I s'posed to do?"

When he finally brings himself to look up, Gaz is laughing at him.

"John MacTavish," he says as he slowly shakes his head. "You are so fucked."

Hey hi I don't even go here, but have chapter one of a SoapGhost Christmas fic

#soapghost #john soap mactavish #soap cod #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #ghost x soap #ghoap #ghoap fic #soap x ghost

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oliver-quick-ens-my-pulse · 1 year

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You and Me

Ominis Gaunt x reader

Summary - Request for “I'm absolutely obsessed with your ominis fics. this is the first time I've requested a fic ever but i was wondering if you'd write an ominis x reader fic based aroud the song 'come what may' from moulin rouge. i was watching it last night and realised its literally so perfect for him. thank you, sorry for the req i love everything you write <3”

Word Count - 932

Warnings - angst

A/N - I'm not one to write with song lyrics or anything so this will just be very fluffy, loving Ominis and reader okay after the fact I realized I went angsty on accident so whoops

Ominis wasn't completely sure where your head was at after everything that had went on with Sebastian and his uncle. He barely knew where his head was trying to grasp everything that was now broken and damaged.

The one thing he chose to focus on for the moment was you. He had rushed back to the castle for damage control and he knew you had stayed back with Sebastian. He was worried about you, but he also knew you could take care of yourself if it came down to it. You'd certainly proven that.

He paced the Undercroft nervously, hoping you would come to find him after things were taken care of. He didn't think he could face Sebastian right now if he were to show up instead of you. His ears perked up when he heard the door open and the sound of tentative footsteps walking into the room.

"Ominis?" Your voice was soft. He rushed over to you, enveloping you in his arms. He felt how you slumped against him, beginning to cry. The burden Sebastian had forced on the both of you was much too great.

"It's okay, Y/N. I'm here, I'll take care of you."

Ominis knew he needed to be strong for you. He also felt he needed t convey how deep his feelings for you were, he felt desperate to hold onto you and hide you away from anyone who could curse you or lead you astray. It was his duty to protect you and to forgive you for trusting Sebastian.

He used gentle motions on your back, up and down to comfort you. You had nearly all your weight thrown onto him, clutching fistfuls of his robes.

You looked up from his chest to gather his attention, your voice barely above a whisper.

"I didn't think it would go this far. I just wanted to learn and I thought that's what we were doing. I didn't think he would — " your choked on sobs before you could finish the sentence, burying yourself back into his form.

"I never thought he would either. You're not anymore of a fool than I am, we knew his intentions. We never anticipated his methods." His voice was calm and you didn't know how he was able to speak like that. The gentle vibrations atop your head as he spoke were soothing.

You two stayed quite for a while until he guided you to have a seat with him on the stone floor. You sat across from him and he leaned forward to hold your hands in his. You only now calmed down enough to realize how strange it was that he was being so touchy with you. You'd held his arm or hands many times, but you truly hadn't expected him to sweep you up into his arms on arrival.

Nonetheless, you were grateful. It felt as though everything had fallen apart. Everything was going to change, but at least Ominis was still here. You'd grown to care about him more than he had even known. As he took your hands in his, you exhaled a sigh or relief, relief that you still had him.

"Y/N, I don't want to overwhelm you, but I would like to speak about something important. I need you to know how much fear I had leaving you with Sebastian after that entire scene. How much regret I would have had if...if anything worse happened.

"I've had few people in my life that I cared about so deeply. I love Sebastian even if I never see him again. I love Anne as well. They were always like siblings that I wished were really mine, but it's been different with you.

"You've become a dear friend, surely the only one I have left at this point, but I love you beyond that. I so often wonder where your future is going to take you and if it's in a direction that's far away from me, what could I do to follow if it did?

"I think about you every time we're apart during the day. I'm thinking about tracing the lines and divets of your hand while we walk. I think about feeling you in ways I never have been, in ways I've never felt anyone before, but I want to memorize every part of you."

You sat slightly stunned at his confession. You couldn't find the words to return his sentiments, so instead you picked up his hand and guided it to your lips, placing a lingering kiss to his knuckles.

"If I tell you I love you, Ominis, I just fear you will resent me for my part in Sebastian's error. My errors. It isn't fair to ask that of you, no matter what I feel."

He leans forward, nearly cutting your words off before replace his hand on your face with his own lips. You returned his affection with desperation as he swiped your lips with his tongue before pulling away.

"I love you and I can't lose you. It's you and I now."

You felt tears in your eyes once again, feeling undeserving of his sentiments. He nudged your hip with his hand, encouraging you to move over to his lap. He opened up his legs and pulled you between them, cradling you close to his body.

You murmured that you loved him too before he pushed a hand through your hair and guided your face up to his. You could see the soft look on his face even through his pale blue eyes before his lips met yours again.

#ominis gaunt #ominis #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis gaunt x mc #ominis gaunt x oc #ominis gaunt x you #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy x reader

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pink-tea · 1 year

Note

could you write something with sub!beomgyu who acts jealous after you spent a little bit too much time with another txt member, he gets super pouty and possessive over you and you're not sure why until it finally clicks and you make it up to him? <33 it can be short! i love ur work, thank u for feeding us in the sub!txt drought

i am happy to keep the people fed!! as proven with my most recent overspending in buying txt albums and their recent deco kit (which i can't even regret, it's so fucking cute </3), making sure they have dinner on their tables frfr, but thank you so much for the compliments!! as for jealous clingy beomgyu yesyesyesyesyesyesy-

☆ very very very suggestive but it never actually gets to smut? idk how to rate this

☆ 1967 words (whoops) (i made up for how long it took me to post with the length)

☆ jealous beomgyu, hair pulling, tiny tiny leg riding/dry humping (im starting to notice a pattern of things that i like to write bye), mean talk but it's more condescending than actually mean

beomgyu knew it wasn't right for him to feel this jealous. i mean, seriously, there's no way you'd ever look at hueningkai the same way you looked at him. but still, he can't help the way he monitors your interactions with the maknae out of the corner of his eye.

it was just the way the two of you played around so much, so touchy. always light slaps on each other's arms, giggling and laughing right in front of him, and he smiles and laughs too because he loves you both so much, but he just can't help the thoughts creeping in. what if there was something going on? maybe you liked the idea of younger, taller men-

beomgyu almost wanted to kick himself for thinking that way. you wouldn't do that to him in a million years, and huenginkai wasn't that type of person either. but still, he winces at the curl of jealousy in his stomach as the two of you play around during your friday gaming sesh.

he hadn't even noticed he was staring until you did, catching his eye and giving him such a loving, happy smile that it made his stomach do flips. how could he ever doubt you?

"you okay?" you ask lightly, tilting your head and looking so content that he couldn't help but smile back.

"i'm doing great," he replies, doing his best not to side-eye the shit out of you and one of his closest friends for the rest of the night. to his credit, you didn't seem to notice anything, only pouting and kissing him sweetly once you had to go back to your own apartment.

he loves seeing you smile, he realizes (although it really wasn't anything new) as he watches you jokingly blow him a kiss goodbye. he catches it and cheesily tucks it in into his pocket, making you giggle. he just really really doesn't like anyone else to be the reason you smile.

and everything's fine until beomgyu starts acting weird enough for it to be brought to your attention.

"you haven't come over for our gaming fridays in a while!" hueningkai complains one day, the comment meant to be light and off-handed. but it makes you pause, hand stuck midway into a box of popsicles. you were here in the boys' dorm for the first time in weeks, waiting for beomgyu to finish getting ready to go to a new boba place that opened a little while ago.

you hadn't even noticed how many gaming fridays the two of you had missed, but now that you thought about it, it's definitely been more than 4 already. beomgyu had been insisting on dates a lot more recently, going out to eat or watching a movie, or maybe just chilling and cuddling on the couch—in your apartment. you didn't even notice the way the time was flying by, more invested in your boyfriend's pretty eyes, his soft lips trailing kisses down your neck and on your collarbone, fingertips pressing into your skin as he begs you to call him yours.

"huh, yeah, i guess it has been a while," you ponder, finally pulling out a popsicle before patting huenginkai's head with your free hand. "you can count on me being here next friday," you promise, ruffling his hair and giggling at his whines and protests. so caught up in your platonic affection for the boy, you didn't even notice beomgyu until his arms were wrapped around your waist, chin plopped on your shoulder.

"i'm ready now, let's go," he huffs, words muffled into your clothes. you halt your ministrations, biting down the last of your popsicle before giving hueningkai one last smile.

"alright, be a doll and throw this away for me please! thank you-" you shove the popsicle stick in huenginkai's hand, barely able to finish your words before beomgyu is tugging you towards the door. you let out a noise of surprise, but let your boyfriend drag you to the door as you frown in confusion. hastily returning hueningkai's worried wave of goodbye before you're out, you wonder what has beomgyu so riled up.

"woah, hey, is everything alright?" you question, stumbling a bit in your attempt to keep up with his pace. his grip on your hand is tight, possessive, but there's a pout on his lips. beomgyu's the type to pout cutely, trying to appeal to you or get on your nerves, but this time he seems genuinely upset.

he doesn't answer your question, and you fall into a heavy silence as you walk down the darkening street, the warm rays of sunset making beomgyu look pretty even when he's upset. you don't say anything until you're passing by your apartment (you really didn't live far from them).

tugging on the hand the still hasn't let go, you force him to look at you, irritated and not bothering to hide the glare in your eyes as you look at him for the first time in 7 minutes.

"what the hell is up with you?" you hiss, your aggravated tone visibly making beomgyu flinch as bothered look only worsens. he looks away from you, opting to stay silent as he stares at the brick walls of your apartment complex. your patience only thins, and beomgyu yelps as you harshly shake your hand out of grip.

"look, if you're upset then we don't have to go on this date, because i have no clue why you're even mad at me for-"

"i'm not mad at you," beomgyu grumbles, holding his discarded hand close to him as he still stubbornly refuses to make eye contact with you.

"then what is it," you sigh out, exasperated.

a few more beats of silence pass by before beomgyu lets out a noise of discomfort- embarrassment. he groans and brings up a hand to mess with his mullet, "it's just...i don't like how you keep spending so much time with hueningkai" he admits, ears burning red as he stares at the floor.

you stare at him, shock and just a bit of relief flooding through you. you finally let a long, tired sigh escape you. your boyfriend wasn't mad, he was just fucking stupid.

"come on," you command, turning around and starting to walk up the stairs to your apartment. you make it up a few steps before turning around, beomgyu watching you with wide and confused eyes. your own eyes narrow at the sight.

"now."

the tone of your voice makes beomgyu startle and hastily walk up the stairs behind you. he didn't mean to get you mad, he thinks sulkily. maybe you were mad at the fact that he was jealous, mad over the fact that he had the audacity to get possessive when he obviously didn't own you.

you feel his gloom behind you as you walk up to your apartment door, but don't say anything, opting for silence. it's only when your keys jangle to open the white door that there's finally any noise, and you motion beomgyu to go inside first once it swings open. he hesitates before stepping in, hearing the door eventually close behind him as you walk in as well.

he only has a few moments to acknowledge your presence before suddenly he's gasping as the wind gets partially knocked out of him, pinned against the door.

he wants to wince at the feeling of his back crashing against the wood, but he doesn't get much time to think as your lips crash onto his. he whimpers into your mouth, lips parting open to let you have your way with him as his arms drape over your shoulders and claw at your back. one of your hands grips at his waist, the other gripping his chin in order to lead the kiss where you want.

his lips are soft and you can faintly taste the honey from his lip balm, but it's not nearly as sweet as the feeling of beomgyu melting into your body. he manages to groan out your name as you pull back, tugging at his bottom lip with your teeth in a way that has him staring back at you with a pathetic expression.

you let go and his lip falls back into place with a wet 'pop' and you take this time to properly glare down (metaphorically, the bitch is 5'11 </3) at the man.

"jealous, huh?" you scoff, making beomgyu wince as he whines at your mean tone.

"you were just being really touchy with him! always giggling and shit during our gaming fridays," he huffed, his worries finally revealed. the mention of the gaming days makes your eye physically twitch. no wonder he's been scheduling friday dates all of a sudden, this brat.

"touchy? touchy how?" you press on, voice cold as you focus on making the man squirm under you. you roughly shove your leg in between his thighs, ripping a mix between a gasp and a moan from his throat as it presses against the half-hardness of his dick. "like this?" you ask, peering dangerously close at his expression as he pouts and hesitantly shakes his head no.

"not like that? what about this?" you reach up to grab a fistful of black hair and yank beomgyu's head back, earning a soft cry as his head thunks against the wood of your door. you suck and bite harshly at the sensitive skin of his neck, feeling him squirm in your hold as you force the flesh red and irritated. beomgyu doesn't know if he should focus on the throbbing pain in his scalp or on the way he's steadily getting turned on by your aggressiveness.

"probably not, huh," you comment, releasing his hair to softly grab at his chin again. his eyes are barely focused, and you almost want to coo at the pretty sight of his dazed look and spit covered lips. you fucking adored beomgyu, it almost offended you that he thought you'd be looking at other guys.

"still think i'd touch hueningkai like this? think i'd like having him here instead of you?" you ask harshly, seeing beomgyu wince as he tried to shake his head no despite the grasp you have on his hair. his vision starts to get blurry, and he realizes that his eyes have started to water up, but either you don't notice or don't care enough to stop talking.

"you've got some nerve to be accusing me of looking at other people the way i look at you, choi beomgyu," you scold, releasing his hair in order to grab his chin again and tilt his head up to look at you properly. "couldn't look at anyone else even if i tried, so fucking pretty that it hurts my feelings sometimes," you simper, attempting to sweet talk but it only makes beomgyu feel like he owes you an apology even more.

"m' sorry," he mumbles, head drooping in shame. you almost laugh at the sight, sighing affectionately before pressing a sweet kiss to his lips. beomgyu stills against your lips before crumbling at the affection, body melting against yours before he's gasping into your mouth. you can feel the way his back arches and his body presses into you, your knee pressing harshly against his clothed dick.

"it's ok, you know how to make it up to me," you smile, beomgyu's hair tickling your cheek as his head falls forward onto your shoulder. his hips slowly start to rock against your leg, precum staining his boxers at the friction—at the feeling of your body caging him in. you grab the arch of his back, roughly forcing his hips harder into you as he cries out your name against your neck.

guess you'd just have to reschedule your date for later.

#sub txt #sub idol #sub beomgyu #sub choi beomgyu #dom reader #choi beomgyu x reader #txt smut #kpop smut #pinktea asks #got a little carried away #gn reader

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punsmaster69 · 4 months

Text

22/DEC/20XX

"NOOO!!"

"Who did this."

(they definitely said it as a period.)

frisk's cookie was ruined in red sprinkles. the sprinkle container's lid sat in the middle.

"Really? You know EXACTLY who would do that."

flowey made a very non-discreet leaf-point towards me.

"whaat?"

"i would never."

"can't believe you would even accuse me of such a thing."

"You already ruined one of mine with that, of course it's you!"

going to put sprinkles over my own splotchily iced cookie, it suddenly twinned theirs, but in cyan.

"whoops."

i plucked the lid of the sprinkle container out of the icing and set it aside.

it stuck to the tablecloth.

"What's the matter? Got a taste of your own medicine, trash bag? How's it taste?"

"dunno. haven't tried the cookie yet."

his smug face dropped.

"That's not what I meant, idiot."

"i know."

"Do you?"

"nope."

"Why did you say you did?"

"because i do."

"You JUST said you don't."

"i don't."

"Do you do or do you don't?!"

"what? that's too much doing."

"let's start over."

"Wh- NO! We're not doing that!"

"i know."

"You don't!"

"i do."

"You don't!!"

"Will you two cut that out already?! It's like listening to two parrots!"

for once, flowey agreed with undyne.

——

"SANS. LOOK!"

"wow."

"...is it you?"

"OBVIOUSLY. WHO ELSE WOULD IT BE, WITH SUCH A DASHING RED SCARF?"

"i see it now."

"very cool, bro."

"WHAT DID YOU MAKE?"

"this. my magnum opus."

"THIS IS A BLANK COOKIE."

"two blank cookies."

"STUCK TOGETHER...?"

"sugar cookie sandwich."

"YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO DECORATE THEM, NOT STICK TWO TOGETHER AND CALL IT A DAY!"

"you're right."

"should have been three."

"I'M NOT SAYING TO ADD 𝗠𝗢𝗥𝗘."

"if i add less, they won't be a sandwich anymore."

"WHY DO YOU WANT THEM TO BE A SANDWICH AT ALL?"

"because i can decorate two for the price of one."

"YOU DIDN'T DECORATE EITHER ONE."

"yeah, it was a steal. decorated zero for the price of two."

"IS THIS ALL YOU'VE DONE??"

"no."

pointing to the cyan mess.

"there's that one."

"DID YOU EVEN ADD ANYTHING TO ONE OF THE GINGERBREAD HOUSES?"

"i added a peppermint."

"𝘈 PEPPERMINT."

"a peppermint and two gumdrops."

"....WELL. IT'S MORE THAN LAST YEAR."

"PROGRESS!"

"Are your standards for what is 'progress' not a bit low..?"

"THEY HAVE TO BE WHEN IT COMES TO HIM."

"you know me; seeing how low the the bar is and still barely tripping on it."

"WHAT DID YOU MAKE, MS. TORIEL?"

"I have been getting this house standing."

"and sneaking the candies."

"Just a few here and there."

"and a cookie."

"I at least frosted mine before eating it, unlike someone."

"wonder who that could be."

"YOU'RE STILL EATING THE COOKIE."

"we'll never know."

——

𝙨𝙡𝙖𝙢.

the table shook as undyne smashed her fist into their gingerbread house.

i hardly saw the finished product before they decided on eating it immediately.

as a result of the table shaking, papyrus sighed as the other toppled over as well.

"At least we were pretty much done."

frisk consoled.

"now you get to eat it."

various pieces of gingerbread were passed around the table, as well as decorated cookies.

——

asgore was here but couldn't stay too much longer, so we packed him a nice to-go bag. papyrus even put a bow on it.

——

considering how long he's been doing food stuff, it should come as no surprise that grillby's decorated cookies are neat and pretty.

he and tori's are both on the same level, really.

flowey tried his best.

so did papyrus.

and anyone who's not the aforementioned same level.

didn't expect frisk to struggle with it so much.

"It's so goopy, dude! How does anyone work with icing??"

——

they stared at the icing tube in their hand.

"just gonna hold onto that all night?"

"....."

"Can I slurp it like a yogurt tube?"

"I've been fighting the urge this whole time."

"let me see."

"paps, are we gonna need these icings again?"

"NO, I BELIEVE THEY WERE JUST FOR TODAY. ANYONE CAN TAKE THEM."

tori was too engaged in conversation with undyne and alphys to be paying attention.

grillby couldn't care less.

he's used to someone downing odd things in his vicinity.

mettaton and napsta wouldn't care even if they were paying attention, either.

"promise to brush your teeth extra good tonight?"

"Yep."

"if you get sick from it, that's on you."

"Yep."

"ok."

"go ahead."

——

flowey poked at them, face-down to the floor in front of the couch.

with a slippered foot, i tapped frisk's side.

"so."

"So?"

"regret?"

"Regret that my body couldn't take it. I don't, otherwise."

"ok. if you do get sick, don't do it on your old lady's carpet here."

"I woon'tt."

doofus.

"think i should try it too?"

"Please do! I'd love to see you drop to the floor exactly like this idiot."

flowey said, also eating straight up icing.

he seems only benefitted from what'd be a unhealthy amount of sugar for anyone else.

"see you on the floor in a few minutes, kid."

——

"YOU DID WHAT? I CAN'T HEAR YOU WHEN YOU'RE TALKING INTO THE CARPET."

"drank icing."

"𝗧𝗛𝗔𝗧'𝗦 WHY YOU ASKED ABOUT THE ICING??"

"yep."

"WHY, BROTHER?"

"sounded good."

"FEELS LESS SO, BY THE LOOKS OF IT."

"i'll get over it."

dual sugar overload aside, it's chill down here.

#undertale #journal #sans #flowey #papyrus #frisk #toriel #sans and frisk #frisk and sans #sans and papyrus

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topsyturvy-turtely · 6 months

Text

SNEAK PEEK at chapter two of MISSING!

A/N: happy birthday @safedistancefrombeingsmart!! 🥳🥳🥳 originally wanted to finish chapter 2 of missing (which is based on smartin''s edit) for you but life is too busy for me lately. however i wanted to prove i am actually (kinda) working on chapter 2 surprise you a tiny bit so here is the shortened version of the beginning of chapter two!! i hope you enjoy it. guess i'm kinda glad to know you 😜😘 hope you are having a wonderful day!

please keep in mind, that this is a draft! "[…]" signals that this is a part that i am not yet publishing. the word document got about 2100w so, i am really not that bad at writing ch2! (if we ignore that i didn't even get to the important part yet…)

WARNING: MAJOR SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER ONE! read first chapter on ao3!

~~~

Even before Sherlock had left the hospital building, he called Lestrade. He started talking before Lestrade could start an unnecessary greeting phrase, “Tell me every little detail you know about this case. And I mean everything.”

“Sherlock?!”, Greg asked. “Where the heck are you?! One minute you were here looking at the-“

“Charing Cross Hospital. John is hurt. Badly. In fact, he is-“, Sherlock’s breath caught in his throat.

He exhaled, seeing John unconsciously laying in the hospital bed, the bloody arm- arm stump. It wasn’t the blood that bothered him so much. It was the bones, the veins, the tendons - everything that was supposed to be attached to John’s hand for god’s sake – that made him feel sick, angry, and terrified. What if John was never gonna have his hand back? Never be able to cook, read, tie his shoes again? Sherlock knew for a fact it would make John miserable, absolutely heartbreakingly miser-

He had to focus. Find the hand. To find the hand, he had to know more about the case. He finally finished his sentence. “John is missing a hand. The doctor said she can reattach it, but it has to be quick. Give me everything you know. I am not going into details.”

“Shit, Sherlock. That is horrible- holy shit. Are you sure you are okay searching-”

“Greg.”, the consulting detective’s voice was sharp, intolerant. He could not lose any more time. “This is not the time for compassion towards me. This is about John. Finding his hand is my first and foremost priority. Tell me everything about this case. Now.”

Lestrade finally seemed to overcome his temporary attack of compassion and started to lay out the case to Sherlock.

[…]

"That’s it! That’s their connection!”, Sherlock concluded after their conversation.

“You- That’s true. Thank you, Sherlo-“

The consulting detective hung up on him. He raised a hand to call a cab. He got one immediately. “Just over Hammersmith Bridge. Drive fast, I’ll double the fare.”

"In a hurry, mate?”

Sherlock glared at the cabbie through the rearview mirror. The cabbie’s smirk left his mouth, because he hurriedly shifted into first gear and drove away. He was fast but not as fast as Sherlock would have liked. Sherlock paid with a generous amount anyways. Thames Path, secluded somewhere between the trees. That’s where John was found. The nurse had given him coordinates and with his phone Sherlock found the place pretty quickly.

Branches were snapped, dirt was posched up, a pool of blood was in the middle of a clearing. Sherlock got close, knelt down, tried to find more clues.

Then he heard shouting, he looked up but his vision was blocked by darkness, a heavy smell stung his nose and then Sherlock hit the ground with his back.

~~~

A/N: i hope you don't mind me tagging a few more people? and i hope the people don't mind either xD it's just that most comments on ao3 were like "OMG CONTINUE ASAP!" so i thought... that would maybe nice of me to tag other people? even though i did yet another cliffhanger with this teaser... whoops.

tag list! (tell me if you wanna be added or removed please 💚) @justanobsessedpan @helloliriels @catlock-holmes @fluffbyday-smutbynight @inevitably-johnlocked @hisfavouritejumper @rhasima @forfucksakejohn @ohlooktheresabee @turbulenttrouble @so-youre-unattached-like-me @totallysilvergirl @peanitbear @train-mossman @loki-lock @smulderscobie @timberva @grace-in-the-wilderness @chinike @jawnn-watson @whatnext2020 @escapingthereality @missdeliadili @kettykika78 @musingsofmyown @7-percent @speedymoviesbyscience @astudyin221b @francj15 @ladylindaaa @we-r-loonies @mxster-jocale @sherlockcorner @noahspector @our-stars-graveside @jobooksncoffee @macgyvershe @myladylyssa @battledress @a-victorian-girl @dreamerofthemeadow @oetkb12 @ohnoesnotagain @mutedsilence @jawnscoffee @raenchaosandcozyadashofmurder @lisbeth-kk @quickslvxrr @compact-and-beautiful

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jjhallisey · 6 months

Text

Daddy's Home

Pairings: John Price x afab nb!Reader [Reader has had top surgery in this drabble]

CW: Daddy Kink, Breeding, Spanking, Cunnilingus

Word Count: 1,989

A/N: This chapter was SUPPOSED to be out ages ago. Then my partner called me and got me completely side tracked for 2 hours, whoops. This was a super self-indulgent one for me so I really enjoyed writing it :)) I hope y'all enjoy it too. Also I don't think I mention Price's beard at ALL in this and that's a travesty in and of itself, I'm sorry.

You had spent a few hours waiting on the couch, your eyes locked on the TV. Though, you weren't really playing attention. You were waiting for the front door to open, and for your partner, John, to walk through the door.

He had been on deployment for a few months now, though you were never allowed to know the details of each deployment. Only when he was leaving, and when he would be back. Despite knowing the approximate time of when he would be returning home, you always spent the days of his return in a frozen state. Not really able to make yourself do anything until he finally walked through the door.

This time though, you forced yourself to start working on dinner. You pushed yourself off of the couch with a slight hum before making your way over to the kitchen. The first thing you did was put on your music, hoping that it would distract your brain enough to not be staring at the door letting the food burn.

Soon, you had successfully busied yourself, bopping around the kitchen to your music as you waited for the noodles to cook. You figured you couldn't go wrong with a simple spaghetti. Not too hard to burn if you got distracted, and easy enough to eat quickly if John had other plans for you once he got home.

You didn't hear the front door open and close over your music, so when you stopped to stir the noodles in the pot of boiling water and felt John's strong arms wrap around you, you jumped. The reaction earned a low, rumbling chuckle from his chest as he peppered kisses along your neck and jawline. "Hello sweetheart," his voice was low and rough. You could tell he was tired, but you also knew from the hardness pressing against your ass that neither of you were sleeping anytime soon.

"Hi daddy," you respond, your voice barely above a whisper, but holding the seductive edge that drew him crazy.

"Hurry up and finish cooking dinner so we can have some fun, yeah?" He hums as he continues to assault your neck and jawbone with kisses and gentle nips.

You nod in response and thankfully, the noodles are done. You drain the water into the sink and then dump the sauce into the pot, making quick work to plate you both the meal and taking it to the dinner table.

- - -

After cleaning up dinner, John had immediately picked you up. Your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist and your arms around his neck. His hands fall to rest on each of your ass cheeks, gripping at the supple flesh to earn a quiet moan from your lips. He didn't bother to take you to the bedroom, instead he sat you down on the dining room table. His eyes wander across your body, taking in everything about you, everything he loves.

You were wearing one of his old t-shirts and your favorite pair of underwear. It was something you wore around the house often when you didn't have much to do for the day, but it always drove him insane. His hands moved your hips as he sat you on the table, making their way under the band of your underwear to grip and knead your soft skin. Once his hands were on you, he couldn't get enough. The way your soft skin felt against his calloused hands. You couldn't get enough either, the way his rough fingers trailing against your skin sent shivers through your body.

With a simple movement, he pulled you to the edge of the table. Your dripping core now pressed against the hardness restrained by his pants. You never needed much work when he first came home, your desire for him arousing you enough itself, but he never went without getting you properly worked up. His hands moved from your hips, slowly up to your chest. His fingers gently traced along your top surgery scars, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. The thought of how happy you were once you had gotten the surgery done, running around the house with nothing but underwear on like he often did, made him beyond happy. After a moment, he pulls off your shirt, placing a gentle kiss on your lips as it gets dragged up over your head.

"I love you, darlin'," he says huskily as he pulls away, moving to place kisses on your neck. As he works his way down your neck and to your collar bone, he begins to leave hickeys where only you two could see them. 'Our little secret, pet.' he would say after your first few times together.

Your hands began to trail up his arms, feeling his hair and muscle definition underneath the pads of your fingers. It was always like this when he first came home - as if you two were relearning each other's bodies, feeling each other like it was your first time together again. Your hands made their way up to his shoulders before you began to drag them down the front of his chest. When you reached the hem of his shirt, you tugged it off of him, throwing it to the floor with your own for the two of you to pick up in the morning.

His hands began to make their way back down to your hips, where he tugs your underwear off, tossing them haphazardly to the side with everything else. He kneeled down, throwing your legs over his shoulders. One hand moved to rest on on your hip, the other circled around your thigh to allow his hand easy access to your throbbing core. His thumb dipped down to spread your folds, your wetness already visibly leaking onto your thighs. "Hmm, look how ready my pet already is for me," he hums, dragging his thumb back up to circle around your clit.

"Always for you, daddy," you huff, your breath getting caught in your throat as pleasure began to course through your body.

A small chuckle escaped his lips before he moved to lick your entrance, letting his tongue flick over your sensitive bundle of nerves. You let out a quiet moan, your hands moving to intertwine with his hair. "Fuck," you breathe out as he continues his assault, throwing your head back.

"Watch your words, pet," he murmurs before slipping his tongue into your opening. Despite his warning, you weren't going to listen, knowing it would earn you a firm slap to the ass while he buried his cock in you later.

He continues to work his tongue inside you, his finger circling your bud. As your moans grew louder, he kept his pace, knowing that your impending orgasm was building in your core.

"Ah fuck daddy," you moan out, letting your head fall forward to look at him, "I'm close."

When his eyes meet yours, he pulls his tongue out of your entrance, flicking it across your clit. That was all he needed to do to send you past the point of no return, waves of pleasure coursing through you as your legs instinctively tried to close on either side of his head. He attached his lips to your clit, sucking lightly to help you ride out your orgasm. When you were trembling at the action, he finally pulled away, licking his lips.

"Hm, what did I say about watching your words, pet?" he coos as he stands up.

"Sorry daddy, it just felt so good," you say sheepishly in return, but he knew all too well that you weren't. A chuckle rumbles through his chest as he picks you up again, carrying you to the bedroom.

"On all fours," he states as he sets you down on the bed, and you do as your told. You get comfortable on the bed so your face is against the cool pillow, ass in the air to present yourself to him. "Look at daddy's obedient slut," he hums happily as you hear the buckle of his pants, soon followed by the fabric hitting the floor. You try and push your ass higher in the air in response, earning a chuckle from your other half. "Such an eager pet, and look at that pretty little cunt."

You felt the weight on the bed shift as he climbed on, coming up behind you. You jolt slightly as you feel his hand connect firmly with your ass, but the pain soon turns into a pleasurable sting.

The feeling of the tip of his cock rubbing against your folds causes you to push back onto him, but his hand is quickly pressed against your rear to stop you. A soft series of tuts can be heard from him before he says, "Be patient pet, you'll get what you want." Which only causes a whine to escape your lips as the need for him to be inside you grows. He had always been a little bit of a tease, but he easily made up for that.

As he lines his tip up with your entrance, he snaps his hips forward, sinking his full length into you in one stroke. You felt your mind go hazy as you let out a loud moan.

He started slow, thrusting into you patiently and deliberately, quiet groans and huffs of air escaping his lips as he watched you take all of him. "Such a good pet, you look so good taking all of daddy's cock."

As his pace picked up, you felt the haze in your mind go stronger. It dwindled your brain down to be a good submissive slut for daddy, no other thoughts daring to enter your head. Another firm slap on your ass has you babbling mindless nothings, pushing yourself back to meet John's strong thrusts.

"Hm, look at how needy my darlin' is, are you gonna take daddy's cum like a good slut?" he growls as he leans down against you, his chest blanketing your back with warmth. You nod eagerly in return. "Your words, pet," he coos.

Somehow, you manage to get out a mumbled "yes daddy," earning a smile from him. He straightens back out, his thrusts now becoming as strong and as fast as he could make them. Now hitting your sweet spot with every thrust, both of your orgasms growing in unison.

"Gonna let daddy come inside you and breed you like the good pet you are?" he groans, his hips beginning to stutter.

"I-I'm close," you pant out, burying your head fully into the pillow.

"Come with me pet, come with daddy," he encourages. The way his voice is so breathless and needy for you sends you over the edge for the second time tonight, your walls squeezing his cock as you tremble. Waves of pleasure crashing over your body.

John continues to thrust into you, chasing his own release, and soon he joins you. He buries his cock deep inside of you as his seed flows into you, quiet groans and gasps escaping him as he milks out every last drop.

Even once you both were coming down from your high, he stayed in you, leaning over you again and nuzzling his head into your neck. "Gotta make sure it takes, yeah?" he murmurs, peppering small kisses along the crook of your neck.

You guys had talked about kids together, but you had yet to get your implant taken out. So it was all fantasy at this point.

Once he grew soft, he pulled out and you both collapsed on the bed. He laid next to you on his side, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you so your back was against his chest. "I love you," he mutters as he buries his head in your neck again.

"I love you too," you whisper back, your voice hoarse from the encounter. It's not long before you're both drifting off to sleep.

AO3

#john price x reader #john price #captain john price #afab reader #halliseywritesprice

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autisticblueteam · 1 month

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Appears from the ether again, after months of only being present enough to fill my queue up, with some WIP snippets from the gen:LOCK re-write I mentioned before...

And also finally adressing these tags lmao, sorry @thesouppond I realise these are like 3 months old.

#FUCK IM JUST SEEING THIS NOW???#FUCK YEAH 2024 SEASON OF EVERYONE GETS TO REWRITE GENLOCK CAUSE FUCK S2#Ahem anyway hi genlock moot :)))#I love your writing btw! Ive read your existing GL fics theyre great!#at this point if someone can give me a GL fic i havent already met I will forever be indebted to you i am DYING for GL content

We're really out here trying our best to do better by GL than HBO did huh!! I've been loving Reloaded, it was so nice to see someone else pop up in the gL tag after it was comparatively dead for so long. I've been working on my re-write since just after s2 came out and it was lonely in there for a while there lmao.

So I'm glad you enjoyed the couple of fics I've already done! I'm re-using parts of one of them for the actual re-write since I'm going for the 'keep the basic bones of s2 but aim to fix the execution into something less shit/re-work the worst bits' and I didn't want to write that first nemesis fight over again from total scratch lmao...

I want to finish writing all of the re-write before I post it in full, but that does mean it's taking forever whoops.

I'm still not past the introduction of Sinclair as his portion is so involved and I keep getting distracted by other projects/hobbies, but I did finally get to a point where my take on Sinclair is actually fun to write! I'm keeping his boyfriend because I did at least like that Sinclair was made canonically queer and they're actually cute when I'm just doing my own thing.

So since I feel like posting some WIP bits, here's my favourite Chris/Sinclair stuff I've done so far.

“YEAH! Take that you fucked up tin can!” Sinclair winced. The shout was like an ice pick being driven into his skull, but it was also what finally drove him to lift his head. There ahead of him, wielding a large piece of debris in one hand, was a heavyset Asian man dressed in torn clothes and covered in grime. He reared back, and for a split second Sinclair thought that projectile was for him, until he heard an impact, and the last of the humming died. The man brushed off his hands, pride written on every feature, and in that moment he was the most beautiful thing Sinclair had ever seen. “Coast’s clear!” the stranger called behind him. There was movement, but Sinclair didn’t care to look, his attention caught by the man’s approach. “And we’ve got a live one.” Sinclair’s throat was so dry he broke down coughing twice, in the time it took the stranger to kneel in front of him. “I-I’m not Union. I-I know— with the uniform, and the—” Another violent burst of coughing cut him off. The stranger handed him a canteen and a crooked smile. “Yeah, no shit. You’ve got way too much emotion on your face to be even a defector,” he said, and if Sinclair wasn’t so busy chugging the offered water, he might have mustered a laugh. “That, plus, the lack of helmet, the collapsing, and the drone getting ready to turn you into a novelty cheese grater kinda gave it away.” “Christ, I could kiss you right now,” Sinclair blurted and then regretted in quick succession. Fuck. He’d been in near solitary too long, his filter had worn away to nothing and he was making a damn fool of himself in front of the first sane people he’d seen in weeks. Except the stranger just… laughed, good-naturedly. “Close, the name’s Chris, not Christ. And I’d say buy me dinner first, but it’s a bit hard out here.”

AND then a little later...

“What about the refugee railroads?” Chris lowered his beer bottle and wiped his mouth. “Too far.” “Vanguard safe crossings?” “Too far.” “The— fucking Canadian border?” Chris laughed, “Too far. Further than either of the other things. Jesus, dude. You sure you haven’t got a concussion?” “Mostly,” Sinclair said, rubbing his face with his intact hand. “I just— you’re going to die if you stay here. A drone only has to get lucky once.” “And if we go deeper in, we’ll only die faster,” Chris said with a simple shrug. “We already have to pack up and move every few weeks when the line moves. And every time, the Polity border gets a little bit further away. Believe me, man, I want nothing more than to get outta here, but it’s just not happening.” “What if I helped?” The offer fell out before he’d consciously decided to make it, but Sinclair stood by it. Even when Chris looked at him dubiously. “No offence, dude, but you’re just one guy. And two days ago you could barely stand.” “And now I’m fine,” Sinclair insisted. “I’m a soldier. I was decorated for valour after I got my squad out of a run-in with the Union that should’ve killed us all. I was the only one who could even still hold a gun. I swear, I could get you somewhere safe. Are you really telling me you’d rather keep sitting around waiting to die than take a risk?” Chris’s brow furrowed, and he didn’t answer immediately, taking another swig from his scratched up bottle of beer. Sinclair sighed. “Look. I need to get to a Vanguard base one way or another. I don’t want to leave you guys behind if I don’t have to. I owe you my life. And maybe dinner.” Chris almost choked on his drink. “Wow,” he laughed, clearing his throat, “you sure pick your moments, huh?” Sinclair shrugged. “Figure if you’re not actually into it I’ll just blame the concussion.” “That you don’t have.” “Exactly.” Chris rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. “Smooth. Smooth operator. Alright, alright, fine, we’ll talk to the others in the morning. It might be a tougher sell when they’re not the ones getting dinner with a hot soldier out of it, but hey, guess we’ll see.” “Are you looking past the just-got-done-being-tortured chic, here, or is that part of the charm?” “Are you kidding? There’s a whole genre focused on how hot soldier guys look after they’ve been through hell.” “Not sure that’s the intended takeaway of action movies.” “Well,” Chris shrugged, starting to pick at a can of food, “it was definitely my takeaway.” Sinclair laughed. Honest-to-god laughed, in a way he was surprised he was even capable of after the last few weeks. The normality of the moment was like a balm on all the aching parts of him, mental and physical alike. For a moment he could almost forget that the reason he looked like shit was because he’d just escaped the worst experience of his life. For a moment it felt like the fight was over.

Now I just have to actually get through the remainder of my Sinclair set-up and then I'll be only one chapter away from finishing the first half of the fic... so close and yet so far lmao.

#blue is a writer #fic: the only me is me #gen:lock #each part is meant to be like a single season. so part 1 is like a new season 2 and part 2 is like a season 3 #and if i ever actually finish this. i might plan out a 'season 4'#the ending i have planned sets me up for it #i have grand ambitions and so little ability to sit down and just get it done LMAO

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esoteric-mantra-stuff · 7 months

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Themis and Mnemosyne (a Champion of Embers Sequel-Prequel thing)

Heyyy. This is a request thingy for Oski Farouche who wanted to see more Briar and some Medía stuff. I decided to fuck it up completly by also adding in the sad (whoops). Comments and feedback are always greatly appreciated. Hopefully you guys like it uwu

—------------------

"The most important thing was to pick the right fabric," Mother said, grabbing a small square of fabric from the pile in front of her. "If you pick something that is too threadbare, it won't last. This one is fine, for example." She handed you the soft square of fabric. You ran your fingertips over it, careful not to accidentally snag your nails between the threads. "Do you remember the stitch pattern we did last time?" You nodded. It had been the Running Stitch pattern. "Good, I want you to pick the squares you like and stitch them together like this." She grabbed two out of the pile and demonstrated a slight variation on the stitching you saw last time. "This is known as a blanket stitch, can you do it?" You nodded. "Uh-huh! Let me try!" She chuckled upon seeing your enthusiasm. "Go ahead," she said, handing you another pair of cloth squares.

You both worked together on a new blanket, square by square, each old piece becoming a fragment of a new whole. Your stitching wasn't perfect, but you improved as you went along. The evening was warm, and the camp was bathed in the sunlight that passed between the trees. Aster and Viola were busy reading by the other end of the camp. Your sister had always been the fastest learner, so she practiced with your brother each sentence and phrase. The sound of them sounding out the words occasionally interrupted the quiet atmosphere of the mistwood. Your mother didn't engage in much conversation; she occasionally glanced over at your side of the blanket, commending your work or correcting your mistakes. The silence suited you, as you preferred not to get distracted while using a needle, though it was nice feeling her presence by your side. It had been a while since you'd been able to stop and rest. Ever since you could remember, it had been nothing but traveling from place to place and waiting in the camp while your mother sought the great runes. You didn't really get it, but you didn't question it either.

Nightfall arrived soon enough, and your mother examined the half-finished blanket. Each piece of old clothing had been transformed into a single square. Mother looked proud, pulling you into a hug and kissing you between the ears. You laughed and returned the gesture. It was a moment that would remain in your mind, one of your dearest memories of her, even as you grew into adulthood. You would never finish that blanket, just like she would never finish her quest to become Elden Lord. You can only guess what became of it once she….

….

She gave you a small thing made of twigs and some leftover string—a dreamcatcher. It was one of the few remaining items from her that you would bring with you as you fled across the sea. Dinner that night was lovely; it was such a shame that none of you ever noticed the pair of eyes staring from the dark. None of you ever noticed how they longed for the warmth you shared.

—------------------

You were 7 years old when your mother gave you that dreamcatcher.

You were 9 years old when she died.

You were 10 years old when Medía became your new home.

You were 12 years old when you decided to go to the library and pick up a book called Cometas, Cometas, Cometas. (Kites, Kites, Kites). You read some of it while riding the omnibus home. It was a book full of instructions on how to build different types of kites, from the simplest cross design to a dragon made from paper and wood. You grabbed it on a whim, eager to get busy with something. What else were you supposed to do? Knowing your siblings, Lobo would likely shut himself off in his room and Viola would be busy studying. All of you knew what day it was, but none of you would acknowledge it. None of you wanted to talk about your mother’s death. The little dreamcatcher in your chest pocket burned.

It’s strange, but you didn’t talk about her anymore. You never did, you never even acknowledged that she died beyond what’s necessary. As though her very name were enough to disrupt the peace. Ever since you came to Medía, it was all about surviving until that old doctor took you in. You left all the sadness in the backburner, like a corpse stinking up a room. Were you ever going to talk about it, now that things had settled down? Part of you… part of you hoped you didn’t. Because… because you didn’t know what to say. Was there even anything you could say? It’s almost as if the moment someone spoke up, the spell would break and mother’s death would become real. The three of you knew you had to at some point, but neither wanted to be the first. Looking down at the colorful kites that adorned the cover of the book, you felt a pang of guilt. You’re too cowardly, by far.

The omnibus leaves you by your house. A large villa near the end of the village, surrounded by beautiful fields that are interrupted only by the passing train line. Dr. Márkov, a practicing surgeon, decided to take the three of you in as servants a few years earlier. Taking special interest in your brother due to his condition. While you suspected the doctor saw Lobo as more of a patient than a servant, you were not about to reject a warm meal and a roof over your head. Especially when the man didn’t forbid you from going to school or taking days off. That’s just how things were. You wandered up to the main house and wandered into the servant’s quarters. The other servant, a sweet older woman called Mrs Carrera was out shopping today, so you had the kitchen to yourself to make all the kites you’d like. You pulled out your box of cloth scraps and some sticks you whittled down earlier in the week and wandered up to the kitchen, only to be confronted by another figure sitting by the work table already.

“Ah, Lobo!” You said, a bit surprised to see your brother out of his room today. The gray wolf looked up from his magazine, it’s the one with the mystery serial on it. “I… uh….” You said, as you made eye contact with the other wolf. He didn’t look particularly upset, but you could tell by the scent of tears in him that he’d cried that day at some point. “Oh, sorry. I can move if you’re using the table.” The gray wolf said, hopping down from his seat and folding the magazine beneath his arm. He almost wobbled off to the living room when you called out to him. “... Hey, do you… want to make some kites with me?” It even surprised you. You might’ve let him go any other day; but when you looked at him, when you saw how lonely he looked, you couldn’t help but feel like it was your fault. The stench of death lingered in the room, yet you both continued to ignore it. You needed to do… anything. Anything that might help…. Lobo stared at you, his pale lavender eyes met yours. “N-nevermind….” You said, looking away, cheeks flushed. “It was stupid to-” “Okay.” Lobo’s voice broke you out of that negative spiral. He waddled back to the chair and sat down, motioning to you to do the same rather than standing there like a fool. “Mind you, I don’t know anything about sewing, so you’ll have to teach me.” He said, looking over all the colorful pieces of cloth. You couldn’t help but smile a bit. I guess, in some way, you honored her memory that day after all.

You started slowly, teaching him a few basic stitching techniques. He was quick on the uptake, though he pricked himself a few times while practicing on some worn down cloth you were not using. Once he was confident in his abilities, you cracked open the book and browsed the designs together. You liked the basic diamond kite, and he chose a fancier bird wing kite. Slowly and silently you took turns looking at your respective instructions, working on each side of the table. It was a little uncomfortable, but you were glad Lobo was not visibly upset at least. Hopefully working on something distracted him from his sorrow. Out of the three of you, Lobo had been the only one awake and present during your Mother’s murder, meaning he’d been the one to wake you and Viola up the night you had to flee your camp. You could still remember the wild fear in his eyes, like a cornered animal about to fight or flee. There was not much time to explain and you didn’t get the full jist of what happened until you were already on a boat off to a foreign land. An old merchant who was a family friend stashed you away between boxes of melted mushroom and dewkissed herba. That was the last time the topic of your mother was ever breached.

You were done with your kite pretty quickly; a diamond shaped cloth made from different patches, hung on two sticks that kept it tight, all tied together with string. You could not ask for a more traditional kite than this. Lobo was having some trouble with the hem of his own kite, however. “... it won’t stay put.” He said as the bent stick escaped from under the cloth. Your brother’s ears pivoted in irritation. “Here, hold it while I sew it together.” You offered. Lobo held the stick while you carefully threaded your needle through the folded cloth with a whip stitch. His eyes followed each move of your fingers with rapt attention. “You’re very good at that.” He said once you were done tying the end of it. “Ah, it’s nothing….” You said. It’s pretty embarrassing having people see you sew like that. It’s usually something old maidens do, hence why you still keep your cross stitches secret to this day. But Lobo seemed impressed enough. He looked away for a moment, a dark look crossing his eyes. “... I think she would be proud….” He says, his voice not betraying any emotion. Your eyes opened wide and something like a squeak left your throat. You regretted it as soon as you saw him wince at your reaction, as if in pain.

“... sorry… didn’t mean to bring that up now. Just… forget it….” Your brother said, attempting to go back to his kite making. You were not about to let it go, though. “I… thank you… I like to think she would be proud too….” There’s so much more you’d have liked to say. So much you still haven’t said to this day. But it's a start. Lobo stared once more, but this time there was something else there. He looked… happy. “She would.” Your brother restated, returning to his work. There’s so much you didn’t understand, but you think that for a moment you understood how your brother felt. At least a little.

At some point, Dahlia joined in and was happy to make kites alongside you. Despite her seeming nonchalant-ness, you think she wanted a distraction too. The three of you talked about everything going on in each other’s lives, though the topic of your mother did not return. Dahlia would be attending as an apprentice in the academy soon and receive some training in pyromancy, you would continue to work here as a servant, though you expressed interest in joining the military once you came of age and Lobo… well he had been receiving lessons from the doctor in hopes of becoming his assistant. He’d always had a knack for making medicine and at least that would give him options for the future. You got into a small tiff with Dahlia discussing the aerodynamics of a box kite, though it was mostly just for fun. Once every kite was ready, you took them out into the field.

The evening air was fresh on your fur, and it picked up the kites easily. Yours flew up in an instant, catching the midsummer sun in the colorful strips of fabric. Dahlia’s box kite flew steady and strong, having used so many of the sticks how could it not. Lobo’s kite looked free in the wind, a colorful tail and beautiful long wings. You ran around making your kites chase each other across the azure skies, though of course not so fast Lobo couldn’t catch up. It was… nice. Maybe you were a little presumptuous, but you think everyone felt happier for spending the afternoon like this. You certainly did. Later, you would sit in the field and watch the clouds roll by. Mrs. Carrera came over at some point to offer you some tea. Dahlia hurried to the kitchen at the prospect of tea and freshly baked cookies, you stayed behind with Lobo for a moment. “Valerio… um. Briar?” He said as you were brushing the grass and dirt from your pants. “Yeah?” You responded. Lobo smiled, happier than you’ve seen him in a long time. “Thanks… I had fun today.” He said. You couldn’t help but smile right back.

—------------------

You were 15 when you joined the military.

You were 17 when Dr. Márkov died, leaving that villa to the three of you in his will.

You were 18 when Lobo was rejected from becoming a legitimate physician over being “un perro lisiado”.

You were 22 when you would chase after your brother to the Lands Between.

You are 23 years old, wandering up to Ranni’s Rise alongside Aster and Viola. You still don’t talk about your mother much, though at least now there’s been some discussion of it. After your brother disappeared, you assumed the worst and guessed that your father might have found him and tried to take the Fingerslayer Blade by force. You’re ashamed to admit that you thought your brother was defenseless against him. Who would have thought the one to kill would be him? And it all started when that black sword arrived by mail. Inheritance to be bestowed upon the legitimate heirs. You should’ve known it was something shady. Either way, you were glad to find him, even if it made it clear you needed to talk about things. There’s the distinct sting of betrayal in knowing your brother didn’t trust you with this darkness that brewed for years, and you still feel like it’s your fault. There’s things you need to say, the only question is when.

Aster taps the stonework floor with his sword, a new one made to compensate for the weight of his new arm, revealing the path down to a secret basement. Iji, the old troll you found on the road to the manor, said he would rather have us take whatever we can find of use there than to let it rot. You don’t really understand why he was being so friendly towards you, but Aster assured you he was no threat. Whatever, even if he were to be a threat, you’d kick his ass anyway.

Father’s room is a little strange, not that you expected him to be a slob or anything, but you find his room to be surprisingly cozy. A big bed, antiquated, but so is everything in this country, a sturdy desk with well cared for books, a tiny silver music box made for hands far smaller than yours, a chimney though no one has cleaned it in a long time and a training dummy. Frankly, you’re a little disappointed there’s nothing more interesting. Viola stayed up investigating the witch's quarters, meanwhile Aster is more interested in seeing how he could get the desk out of the room. You’re about to leave when something catches your eye. Fabric peeking from within the wardrobe, a little splash of color among the muted colors of the bedroom. You open it, immediately bringing your hands up to your mouth as you gasp loudly. Inside, beside some noble looking clothing that absolutely reeks of wolf, is a half finished patchwork blanket.

You try your hardest, you really do, but you can’t stop the tears. You pick up the blanket and sit on the bed. It creaks under your weight. You stare at each patch, remembering the ones you picked, and the ones she did. You trace a finger over each seam, careful not to snatch your claws on the threads. You see as your tears hit the fabric, darkening it in little spots. The thing is still unfinished, but you bring it close to your chest and close your eyes. You try to get your breathing under control, but you can’t do it. It’s like the dam has burst and there’s no stopping the flow of emotion that washes over you. You’re vaguely aware of Aster approaching. The bed creaks again under his added weight. He doesn’t make fun of you for crying, but he also doesn’t say anything. You’re about to open your eyes and try to pretend to be fine, but then he puts an arm around your shoulder. You don’t really understand why, but you feel like you finally know what you’ve wanted to say for a while.

“... there’s never enough time… never… it’s never enough….” You stutter through, but Aster hugs you tight. He’s listening. “... I really tried to make peace with it. I-I thought I could, but… it just… it wasn’t enough time… Then….” You hesitate, but a warm hand on your back reminds you of someone else. “Then… I thought I shouldn’t say anything because… because I'd just screw things over… I-I didn’t want to be a burden… s-so I tried making myself useful instead….” You sob, your eyes are still closed, but you hear someone at the doorstep. “... I’m so sorry… Aster… Viola… I’m so sorry for ignoring this… I’m so sick of pretending I’m fine with it… I-I’m so sick of pretending there was enough time….” Viola sits by your side as well, the bedframe complains once more at the weight of three quarter wolves. You feel her head on your shoulder and her hand over yours.

The three of you sit together on the bed. They let you cry your heart out, without judgment. It’s embarrassing feeling so vulnerable, but you’re also… glad. Aster runs his hand up and down your back, Viola runs her finger over the back of your hand in a soothing motion. After what feels like an eternity, you begin to calm down. “... There’s never enough time to do the things you want….” You finally say, opening your eyes to see the unfinished quilt matted with teardrops. The trail of tears doesn’t stop, but you feel the deluge slowing down. “It never was fair… I think even Father would have agreed.” Aster says. You look over at the gray wolf to your left, but he’s looking ahead into the space between the bricks of the cellar wall. “... I made a mistake believing I should get revenge. Maybe… maybe if I’d been more willing to let it go and see how you were hurting. Then I could have done things differently… maybe Father would be here to apologize and make things right ....” He shakes his head, returning the eye contact. “I’m sorry… I was so stuck in my own head, I couldn’t see how you were hurting too.”

To your right, you hear Viola speak as well. “I have to apologize too. After Mother died, I felt I needed to keep you both safe. To make sure you’re never in need, and I thought I could achieve that by studying hard and climbing to the top… I guess I never considered that what you needed was not a provider… but a sister….” Viola extends her hand to touch the one behind you as well. “It goes for you too, Aster. I knew our mother’s death affected you greatly, but… I’ll admit that I was at a complete loss… so I didn’t say anything. I’m sorry if you felt I forgot about Mother and the things she did for us. I was just… afraid….” You notice that a bit of her makeup has run down her cheek. It seems the three of you had the same idea, albeit expressed differently. You let out a sad chuckle. “I… I’ll forgive the both of you… If you promise to forgive each other.” Aster and Viola pull you into a hug from either side. It’s a deal.

The blanket becomes the center of attention once you pull away. “It really is a shame that it’s unfinished….” Aster says, looking at the space where future squares might be placed. “Although, we do have some fine fabric here… albeit its scent is a bit… uh… ripe.” Viola exclaims, looking over your father’s old clothes. Aster pipes in after her. “I do have some thread I found in the desk, and scissors. Could be useful….” You look down at the unfinished blanket. “... are we finishing it now, then?” You say, reading into the clear intent of their words. “A fetching idea I would say.” “Yeah, obviously we are.” Both say in unison.

You spend the rest of the afternoon finishing up the final squares of the blanket. You scold Aster a few times since he keeps stitching it up like you would a corpse, when you specifically told him to use the blanket stitch. Viola takes to chopping up parts of the old clothes into squares. Luckily they’re not moldy, but some of them do have holes from years of use. You take the leftover fabric home, though the light… uh… pheromone smell might not leave…ever. You don’t really know what you’ll use it for, but it seems wasteful to toss them just for that. All in all you have a lot of fun. The blanket is completed, a story that took 15 years to write, now ended with a chapter penned by all three of you. The corpse in the room has been buried and the flowers planted in its grave. You take out your little dreamcatcher, you’ve patched it up so many times and yet it still carries the same feelings it did so long ago. For once, you feel like you can look at it without sadness or guilt, but with hope.

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lizzie-bennetdarcy · 6 months

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Trick or Treat!

🎃👻🐈‍⬛

Happy halloween, friend!!!

Most of my treats right now are of the Red, white, and royal blue flavor, and I am uncertain if you go there? But I do have an alternate ending for my sc passions and pastimes fic that I decided not to go with, but couldn't bring myself to fully delete. Fair warning, I think it does end fairly abruptly and it has absolutely not been edited, so don't get your hopes too high 😘

Under the cut so it's not obnoxiously long

"Stevie, what are you talking about?" Patrick asks, sounding more confused than freaked out, which is far better shape than David is in.

Stevie looks between them. "You really didn't figure it out?"

"Obviously not. So are you gonna tell us what's going on before I lose my shit?"

"Did you ever have it?"

"Stevie, I swear to god —"

"Guys!" Twyla interrupts. "It's like an escape room, but instead you have to escape a whole house!"

"What?!" David and Patrick chorus.

"We honestly thought you'd catch on eventually, but then we got separated. Stevie was a little worried, but I told her you'd be fine with Patrick."

"Why were you guys sneaking around here in the dark?" Patrick asks.

Stevie shrugs. "Thought we heard something. Turned out to be you guys."

"But why in the dark?" David asks. "Why did you turn out the lights in the first place?"

"Oh, we think that was an actual power outage," Twyla explains. "This probably would have gone a lot better if it hadn't. A lot of the rooms unlocked automatically, so that might be how you were able to get down here. there's supposed to be a couple ways to solve it."

"Or, we're just really good at this stupid game of yours," David snips.

"Clearly that's not true," Stevie says, with a Look at David. "Now, you can either keep complaining, or you can let Twyla and I finish this thing."

David throws up his hands. "Fine! But hurry. I'm sick of being here."

Stevie turns to Twyla, and they pour over a paper Tyla is holding.

"Okay, based on this, the key should be in the fourth row, three shelves down, which is… oh! Right here."

"There's still like 50 bottles on this shelf."

"One of the bottles should be open. It'll be in there."

The four of them quickly scan the shelf in question using the meager glow from the flashlight, and Patrick is the first to spot it. "There! The cork has clearly been taken out and out back in."

Stevie grabs the bottle in question and yanks out the cork, tipping the bottle so that the small silver key falls into her waiting palm.

"Success!" Stevie cries, and she and Twyla take off.

"Where are you going? Wait for us!" This time, it's David who grabs Patrick's hand, and tugs a laughing Patrick along beside him.

They catch up to Stevie and Twyla, and watch as Stevie wrestles with a padlock on the cellar door while Twyla holds the flashlight for her. "Go, Stevie, go!" She cheers.

The lock makes a satisfying click, and Stevie shouts, "ah-ha!" She pulls out the padlock and pushes up to open the doors, revealing the cool, clear night outside.

Twyla whoops, and the two of them run out, leaving David and Patrick to follow along behind.

"So that was fucking awful," David says, as they follow the girls back to their cars.

Patrick nudges his shoulder. "I don't know, David. I don't think it was all that bad."

"Did you miss the part where we were effectively kidnapped?"

#enjoy your treat!!!#happy halloween!!!#trick or treat

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mercurygray · 1 year

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for thirsty Thursday, recovery with lip and marj ? :0

recovery - rubbing someone's back repeatedly to help work tension out their body

The worst part was the knowledge that nothing he had was going to make it better.

Bronchial pneumonia, the surgeon had said. Not a damn thing to do about it except warm blankets and hot drinks and somewhere without a draft - all the things they really didn't have at the moment. Penicillin would clear it up, no problem, but they didn't have that, either - still no medical supplies.

So Carwood Lipton was carrying a bucket of boiling water up from the cookhouse, and hoping that none of it spilled.

The house the CP was in had been nice, once, before the war - peeling wallpaper and a dilapidated piano were a testament to that. The couch Marj was lying on was nice, too, or had been - not that it mattered now. Everything was covered with plaster dust and who knew what else.

"What's she got to complain about?" Luz was asking some unseen third person as Lipton carefully made his way back inside. "She's got a couch, she's got a blanket, Lip's gonna be back in a minute with some tea. She's fine. Snug as a bug in a rug."

But she wasn't fine - nothing near fine. Every time he heard that hacking cough he was back to being eleven or twelve, listening to his sister suffer through whooping cough in the second bedroom, his mother staying up to all hours to make sure she was still breathing.

But she could still look up when he came in - could still smile. "Is that hot water?"

"Thought you could breath the steam," Lip offered, setting the bucket down gently so Marj would have space to swing her legs down and lean over. He fumbled in his pocket for the teabags, eventually finding them and dipping his empty canteen cup into the water, dropping the bags in and watching the color change. After a minute or so he glanced at the other people in the room - a new lieutenant, who still very much had a shine on his boots, and a face that Lip had to work for a moment to place.

The name came to him eventually. "Webster. How you doing?"

"Just fine," Webster said. "How are you, Sergeant Lipton?"

He didn't want to answer that, not really - and was spared from doing so by Speirs returning to the command post, and Marj struggling to sit up a little. "Captain Speirs, this is lieutenant Jon-"

"Gordon, for christsakes, will you go and get some sleep or something? There's a bed back there with real sheets."

"Just want to be helpful, sir," Marj offered, the water forgotten for a moment before she started coughing again.

Winters and Nixon made another sudden appearance, and Marj struggled, again, to get up, but it was no use - Lip held her down, his eyes meeting Winters' with desperation.

"Gentlemen, why don't we give Gordon some space?" Winters said lightly. "You'll hear better what I have to say out here."

The new lieutenant snapped his heels in a salute, a movement that made Nixon laugh, and Lipton sat down next to Marj on the couch, carefully holding his canteen mug while she tried to sit up a little and set off another coughing fit. He pressed a hand to her back, rubbing slowly and feeling the heat build between his hand and her jacket. Maybe, if he did this long enough she would warm up, and the pneumonia would go away, and she could get a little peace. But that didn't seem likely any time soon.

Marj finished coughing and looked at him with a tired, bleary eye. "You know, if you wanted to get my brassiere off you could just ask."

Lip rolled his eyes. "Yes, that's exactly what I was thinking of doing. Have my way with you and then have you cough all over me all night."

Another cough, smaller this time. "I probably got this from you."

"That is very uncalled for, Sergeant Gordon. I resent the implication."

Marj smiled and tried to say something, but the words got caught in her throat and went into another coughing spell. Lip tried to rub her back the whole time, and when it subsided she looked over at him. "Please don't stop, Car. It feels really good."

Never, Lipton thought to himself, hand still moving back and forth. "You want to drink this tea? Should be good for your throat." She nodded, and took the cup, holding it under her nose to breath the steam again, sipping gratefully.

"When this is over," he said, quietly, letting her head rest on his shoulder. "I want to sleep for a month. I want a real bed, with real sheets, and a dozen real eggs for breakfast."

Marj made a mumble of agreement, still sipping her tea, and Lip continued to move his hand up and down her back, still thinking to himself things he didn't want to jinx by saying aloud.

I want cream in my coffee, and sunshine, and the morning paper. I want to wake up next to you and know exactly where I am. I want to make it better, Marj Gordon. Always.

#i have written a thing #marjorie gordon #1940s girl gang #mercurygraypresents

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giggly-squiggily · 2 years

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Hello, friend! It's so good to have you back! It took a couple of days for me to work up the courage to put in a request since it's kind of repetitive, but just...you write Hinata and Kageyama SO WELL, I just can't get enough of it! <3 (Still don't feel any pressure if you're not feeling it! I totally understand!)

The specific idea I have in mind at the moment is a sleepover (at whose house, idk) where Kageyama is ready to go to bed earlier than Hinata, but Hinata refuses to let him actually sleep because then it wouldn't be a "real" sleepover if they didn't stay up all night. So Kags decides to wear Hinata out by tickling him to pieces until he agrees to at least let him sleep, if not go to sleep himself as well. (Bonus points if they fall asleep together in a platonic fashion. ^^)

Again, please feel no pressure to do this! I know I ask for fics about these two from you basically every time; I just truly love the way you write them. I reread them allllll the time!!

Thank you, have a wonderful day, drink water - all that good stuff! <3

Aww! Thank you so much friend! I appreciate it immensely! And ahh these two! It's been a hot minute since I've written for Kageyama and Hinata, so this was alot of fun! I hope you like it! :D

Have an amazing day friend! Remember to stay hydrated and that your a fantastic person through and through! :D

“Why don’t we do that?” Hinata asked out of the blue one evening.

“Do what?” Kageyama looked up from his shoes, brow furrowed.

It was after practice, the boys chatting amongst themselves as they put away volleyballs and swept up the gym. As he was finishing up, Hinata overheard Yamaguchi asking Tsukishima about sleeping arrangements.

It was a small question, but it stuck to the middle blocker like glue, worming itself into his brain and refusing to budge. “Have sleepovers.”

Kageyama looked ready to retort, only to pause. “I…don’t know. You never asked to come over before.”

“That’s because I didn’t know if I could! And you never asked either!” Hinata blinked, the reality that they never slept at each other's house was wild to him. Almost a whole year of friendship and not one sleepover! “How have we gone so long without one?”

“Is it really a big deal? It’s not like we’ve never shared a room.” Kageyama stood, stretching out his arms as he and Hinata made their way home. “We all bunk together when we go to training camps.”

“That’s not the same! Those are with everyone, and it’s for volleyball. We need to have a sleepover with just the two of us!” Hinata nodded determinedly. “We gotta know what we’re like at night! What movies we watch, who’s the best pillow fighter- what kind of snacks the other keeps at their house!”

“Oi, calm down.” Kageyama waved him off, shaking his head at Hinata’s growing excitement. “If you wanted to know any of that, you can just ask?”

“Again, not the same, Kags! Sleepovers are an experience!” Hinata bounced over so he was walking backwards, smiling up at the setter. “Don’t tell me you’ve never had one before?”

Kageyama stiffened, and for a moment, Hinata worried he may have pushed it too far. Then the other shoved him lightly, nearly toppling him backwards. “Shut up! Of course I’ve had sleepover’s before! Just…not in a long time, that’s all.” He blushed and looked away, clearly embarrassed. Hinata softened, reaching out and patting his arm.

“It’s no big deal, Kags. Really- tell you what?” He lit up again, his energy returning full force. “Let’s do it at my house! Mom and Natsu are visiting our grandparents this weekend, meaning we’ll have the whole house to ourselves! I’ll ask if you can come over! We can get all the things! What do you say?”

Kageyama looked considerate, mulling over Hinata’s offer as they crossed the road towards their homes. Finally he sighed, holding his hands up in defeat. “Alright, fine. I’ll ask if I can come over.”

Hinata whooped, starting a nearby cat and earning a “Shut up, Boke!” from the setter.

It didn’t matter- Kageyama was coming over this weekend!

~~~

With the okay from both their parents, the boys agreed to meet up Saturday evening for the big event. At least- to Hinata it seemed like a big event. He was practically shaking with excitement on the phone as he planned everything out with Kageyama.

The setter had no idea why it was so exciting for the other. It was a sleepover- not nationals. Still, Hinata was happy, and he couldn’t deny it felt nice, being a partial reason for that.

It wasn’t long before Saturday rolled around, and Kageyama made his way over with a bag of sleeping stuff on his back. He reached for the doorbell, suddenly nervous. All of Hinata’s giddy nature that week suddenly rubbed off on him- making him hopeful and weirdly anxious. He didn’t want to let the other down.

“Welcome to my kingdom! You may enter, peasant!” Hinata cheered as he opened the door, grinning from ear to ear at the other.

Forget letting the other down- it was a war not to kill him this weekend.

“Who the hell are you calling a peasant?” Kageyama growled, giving chase as Hinata twisted on his heels, racing into the house. “Come find me, oh great king of the court!” He called back, thus beginning their night of shenanigans.

~~~

“You are not doing that.” Kageyama stared in horror as Hinata dumped every kind of candy he had into his popcorn, topping the monstrosity with so much chocolate syrup it made Kageyama’s teeth hurt.

“Why not? Sweet popcorn is the best!” Hinata grinned, sticking his hand into it and mixing it around. “I do this all the time when I go to the movies!”

“How are you not dead? That looks like a sugar rush leading to cardiac arrest.” The setter sublty hid his own bowl- a normal batch of popcorn without much fixings. He didn’t trust the redhead not to toss in a few extra “ingredients”.

“It’s a sleepover, Kags! You gotta be adventurous!” Hinata took a bit, smiling around his sweet treat. “Try some!”

“Ew no!”

“Scared you're gonna like it?”

“....” Kageyama reached out and took some, making a face at the goopy sugary parts. He took a bite.

You know…it wasn’t bad.

Too sweet, but not terrible.

“It’s okay.” He decided, earning a laugh from the redhead.

“Come on! It’s movie time!” He cheered, grabbing their drinks and his popcorn before running to the main room. Kageyama followed, falling back to look at the chocolate syrup before shaking his head, grabbing it on the way out.

~~~

“Make…it…BLUE!” Hinata slapped down his uno card, a plus four glaring back at the fuming setter. “How the hell do you keep getting plus fours?” He grumbled as he reached into the deck, collecting his cards.

“I don’t know- I’m just lucky like that.” Hinata grinned, snickering behind his cards as he watched Kageya search his hand, pulling out a blue seven. “Good on the court, terrible at card games! That’s our Kageyama!”

“Shut up, Boke! I’m good at card games!” This was a fat lie. Even in training camps with the others he sucked at card games. He was almost always dead last- the rare times he came second to the end was when Daichi took the loss. “If I could set in Uno, I would!”

“Setting cards- would that even work?” Hinata imagined the taller boy trying to push a deck into the air, the stack raining down around him. “It would make a mess, no?”

“...whatever.” Kageyama rolled his eyes before grinning. With a grin, he slapped down his plus four. “Ha! Make it red!”

Hinata slapped down his own plus four on top of his. “Stack rules. Plus eight- make it yellow!” He wheezed as Kageyama assaulted him with cards.

~~~

“Hey, Kags. Wake up.” Hinata poked the other gently, shaking him from his sleep. They had been going for a few hours now, and Kageyama was starting to get tired. He peeked at the clock in the background- midnight. “What? It’s bedtime, boke. Sleep.”

“No way! It’s a sleepover! We gotta stay up as long as possible!” Hinata seemed to lack any real exhaustion. If anything, he was vibrating with energy- the bowl of sugary popcorn he devoured during their movie seemed to finally take effect.

On the flipside- Kageyama’s own chocolatey popcorn seemed to make him even more tired. Sugar always made him sleepy, and it was no different now. “Why? We’ve got the entire day tomorrow. I want to sleep.”

“We can sleep in tomorrow! The night is young! Come on, don’t clock out on me now, Kags!” He gently shook the other, practically rolling Kageyama around like he was making bread. The setter tried to ignore him, closing his eyes and pulling the blanket up higher. “Go away. I’m sleeping!”

Hinata stopped, and Kageyama could practically feel the pout aimed at his back. Followed by the grin. It all came to a conclusion when Hinata poked his ribs, making him spasm in the blankets. “Aye! What the hell?”

“Wakey wakey, Kageyama! Don’t make me tickle you!” Hinata raised on his knees, wiggling his fingers gleefully. “Better get moving before the tickle monster comes!”

Kageyama considered his options. Sleep or be tickled.

Or…

“Bold words to say…to the real tickle monster!” He twisted in his blankets, shaking them off before grabbing Hinata’s waist, pushing him into the pillows around them and tickling like there was no tomorrow. “Someone won’t let him sleep, and now he’s pissed!”

“Aheahahahahaha! Eehhehehahahahaha! Kahahahhahahgeyahahhahahama! Wahhahahahhait!” The redhead squealed, squirming and thrashing beneath the other. His cheeks were already heating up, the glowing smile on his lips full of happiness. “Yohoohohhu jeeheheherk!”

“Oh, I’m the jerk? Mr. ‘Won’t Let Me Sleep Because It’s A Sleepover’ calls me a jerk?” Kageyama pushed the other one down gently, sitting on his thighs as he carried on his mischievous game. “You’re a bold one, boke! Really bold!”

“Kahahhahahhahagehehehhahhahhamahhahaha!” Hinata threw his head back in mirth when the other switched to pinching, giving every inch of his sides a little shock that left him squeaking like a mouse. “Ahehehehe! Kahahahgs! Aheheahhaha! Tiihiihme ouhuhut! Tiihihme out!”

Instantly the setter stopped, pulling his hands back to let Hinata breathe. “Are you okay?” He asked, suddenly worried he went to far.

“SIKE!” Hinata roared, shooting up and shoving Kageyama into his blankets, returning the favor with a spasm of tickles against his ribs. The setter howled, cursing up a storm as he laughed helplessly beneath him. “Shihihihihihihiihihit! Hihihihihiiihihnatahahhaa youhuhuhou suhuhuhuhuck!”

“Say poop! Don’t curse so much!” Hinata chided in amusement, earning a few pig snorts from the other boy. “Hehe, there it is!”

It wasn’t long before Kageyama got the upper hand once more, their tickle fight turning into a full blown war as pillows got mixed in. Squeals of laughter echoed around the house, any cares they had tossed alongside their fluffy weapons.

~~~

“Hehe…heh..d-did I wihin?” Kageyama huffed, lying on his back with his arms spread out, cheeks painful from how much he smiled.

“Heh…no wahhay…I totohohtally won…” Hinata giggled, curled up on his side and watching the other with wet eyes. He was smiling just as much, reaching out and poking the other. “So thehere!”

Too tired to argue, Kageyama huffed out a laugh and turned to look at Hinata, a surge of victory coursing through him when the redhead yawned. I win. “You look tired.”

“‘M not. Just…tired.” Hinata scooted over, using Kageyama’s chest as a pillow as he made himself comfy. “You tossed my pillow away…I’m using you.”

“Your’s is…” The setter gave up as he heard soft snores rising from below. Hinata was out cold. He shook his head and dragged over his own pillow, tucking it behind his head. He looked down once more, daring to pat the other gently. “Heh…you know. I haven’t had this much fun at a sleepover in…well, forever.” He closed his eyes, letting sleep finally come forward. “Thanks for that, Hinata.”

Just as he drifted away, he swore he felt Hinata pat him gently, as if he heard him.

I hope this was good!

Cloud 9 (Taglist)

@thatbigbisexual29, @myreygn, @duckymcdoorknob,

#haikyuu!!#kageyama tobio #hinata shoyo #sleepovers #tickle #tickle fic #fluff #dorks being dorks #platonic #I had an absolute ball writing this!#I kinda got carried away with it aejrajeajkklearaekl #But I hope you like it nonetheless!#Also when you see this welcome back! :D

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