#i meant to knock a few of em out in the same post | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

strawwritesfic · 2 years

Text

Rocket Raccoon x Guardian!Reader: Nutcracker

Summary: Maybe it’s not time to say goodbye quite yet.

Rating/Warnings: T (implied depression; implied self-isolation; set post-Endgame; complete disregard for the size of the Guardians’ ship)

Challenge: "25 days of Christmas" Challenge by Sweet-n-Chaotic on Lunaescence Archives.

Tag List: @imaginesfire

Nutcracker

Once upon a time, a younger you had flown throughout the galaxy looking for a place to call home. Once upon a time, you’d learned that home was not a place, but a people. Once upon a time, you saved that galaxy with your people. Once upon a time, you’d understood what belonging meant. Then came the Infinity Stones. Then came Thanos. Then came the Snap. You lost everything you fought for—well, almost everything, and you gave up what you had because you couldn’t stomach losing anything more.

That had been six years ago. All you had lost had been returned to you. Most of the Guardians (plus Nebula) welcomed you with open arms. You belonged again…only you didn’t. Even back on board the ship with them, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something deep inside you had irrevocably changed. What had once been your family transformed into a group of people you avoided speaking to at all costs; what had once been your job became a list of tasks you refused to do. All your time was spent alone in your quarters hoping no one would bother coming to see you.

A sudden knock on the door one afternoon intruded upon your miserable attempts to sleep through the day. So caught up in them had you been that you hadn’t heard the rest of the team entering the ship. You swore as you threw yourself out of bed. No time to check the mirror; quickly combing your fingers through your hair would have to be enough to throw off suspicion. Hopefully whoever it was wouldn’t be able to tell you’d spent the duration of their hunting for Gamora on the planet moping underneath your covers.

They knocked again. You sped over as quickly as you could considering the debris that lay strewn across your floor in the dark.

“Coming!” you shouted. “I’m com—”

You opened the door to reveal Rocket standing outside. Being so small, he easily slipped past you before you could step out into the hall to speak to him.

“Jesus!” he said as he looked around.

His horror was not unjustified. Any stabs you might have taken at cleaning up after yourself suffered the same problem as everything else in your life: a complete lack of interest once the chore was begun. They were your quarters, however, so no one had discovered the filth you lived in until that very moment.

Instead of picking up a top so grimy it was growing things, though, Rocket picked up one of the many similar knickknacks lining the shelves. “I still don’t know how the hell you sleep with these creepy things staring at you all the time.”

“They’re nutcrackers,” you said.

“I know. I also know I have some grenade launchers that would do a much more impressive job crackin’ ‘em if you really need some nuts cracked.”

“That’s not the point.” You pulled it out of Rocket’s claws before he could break the jaw on this one, too. “People on Earth collect them. They’re cute.”

“Cute. Right. Knew I shouldn’t have let you live there without me for five years. You came back weird.”

Tears filled your eyes at that remark. You tried to look away so that Rocket wouldn’t see them. Unfortunately, you weren’t quick enough nor was the room quite dark enough for him to miss your expression entirely.

“Hey,” he said, and when that didn’t stop your sniffling, he said it again: “Hey. I didn’t mean it that way. Don’t—you can’t just start crying like that—”

When you did not answer, you heard him sigh. Then his tiny hand grasped a few of your fingers. He led you over to the bed and yanked you down with him as he sat on your mattress.

“C’mon, [Name]. All I meant is that I miss you. We all do. You spend all your time in here. It’d be one thing if you just didn’t want to bother savin’ the galaxy, considering how ungrateful the galaxy is, but you don’t even want to help us find Gamora.”

You shook your head. What you were about to say would hurt him, but it had to be said. It had been on your mind for a very long time. “I’m leaving.”

“What?”

“You’re right. I came back weird. I’m not being of any use to anyone. So. I decided I’m leaving the team. Mantis deserves a bigger room anyway.”

“That’s not what I meant either! I just wanted to come by to say—guess it doesn’t matter what I wanted to say. But here. If you’re really leaving, you should take this.”

Very, very slowly you looked over at him. In one of his hands was clutched a small, red object: a nutcracker. You let out a gasp as you took it.

“I saw it at the store today,” he said, “and thought of you and your collection of weird soldier guys. Didn’t even steal it. I bought it with credits and everything. You can ask Groot. Anyway, I should go. You’ve got a lot of packing to do.”

“Rocket.”

Your hand encircled his wrist before he could leave for the door. He shot you a questioning look that you answered only by leaning forward and giving him a hug. A few more tears leaked from your eyes into his fur.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

He pushed you back a little with a light claw to your cheek. Though he’d once eschewed all signs of affection, you could see it pooling in his beady eyes then. “Just don’t give up on me yet, [Name]. ‘Cause I sure as hell ain’t giving up on you.”

“Okay.”

That seemed to be enough for Rocket. He scuttled away without another word. After a long time of gazing down at your gift, you finally put it away in a place of honor right next to your bed. Once upon a time, you’d happily belonged. Maybe you could find that once upon a time again.

325 notes · View notes

echos-newlegs · 3 years

Note

Hi!! Can I please get wolffe with 1 and 4 smut please!!!! Thank you!!!!! 🥰

Playing Around

😏 heck yeah you can- but I apologize if it’s bad. It’s nearly 1am, I’ve never written anything for Wolffe before and I started writing another story halfway through the smut??? So if you get lost, I really do apologize. I think I fixed it though. I had to reread it a good three times lmao.

A small PSA to the others who requested, I see em all and I will get to them when I can. I start a job on Thursday so stories may be a teensy bit delayed from my posting at least once a day ordeal!

Wolffe x Reader: “It’s okay, just pretend to be my date until they leave,” and “your hair is so soft...”

Warnings: Sexual content, language, female receiving, protected sex because it is frowned upon using kids as distractions during war.

You sat at the bar with Wolffe and his brothers. 79’s was slowly starting to get more crowded. You wouldn’t really mind if the moment Wolffe walked off someone hadn’t stole his spot at the bar next to you and began hitting on you. “What’s a pretty gal like yourself doing in a joint like this?” He wasn’t a clone, but even if he was one. You still wouldn’t be amused.

You were a Jedi. Trained by General Plo Koon himself. Which was how you were so close with Wolffe— yet it still took everything in you not to knock the guy next to you off the bar stool and walk out. “I’m here with some friends.” You told him, truthfully. The man snorted, and you frowned. “Where are they then?” You motioned your head to Boost and Sinker, catching a glimpse of Wolffe heading back your way. Eyes locked on the intruder in his seat.

“And him,” you spoke. Pointing off towards the commander with a small smile and a wave. The guy turned. Flashing a glare to Wolffe then looking back to you with a dopey smile. “Well, doll, if you want to hang out with a real man..” you glared. You couldn’t stand random people giving you pet names. “I’m just over there,” he pointed to a table with a few other guys. Who all looked away when you looked over.

Wolffe finally made his way over and stood next to you. Practically towering over the man. Eyes still locked on him with a look that could kill. “Is he bothering you, Cyar’ika?” He asked, then glancing to you. Gaze softening for a second. Before hardening once he looked back to the other. “Who’s this, your boyfriend?” The guy snorted, and you grabbed your drink, taking a sip to try and calm yourself down. “I’m whatever she wants me to be, now get out of my seat.” Wolffe growled, and you glanced over to him. Brows a bit raised. Smirking behind your glass and the man cowered away.

Wolffe sat next to you with a sigh, and you leaned over. Pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you, Wolffy.” You teased. You were the only one that was really allowed to call him that without him getting pissy. “Anything for you, general.” You snickered, watching as his face heated up a bit. It wasn’t the first time you’d kissed his cheek before, but he always acted so nervous. Even if he knew you just meant it in a friendly manor, or so he thought.

“Wolffe, don’t call me General when we aren’t on the field. I don’t like it when you call me that. Makes things feel, too formal.” You told him, and he nodded. Sighing, and glancing over to you with a small smile. “Yes, y/n.” “Better.”

You chewed on your bottom lip, watching him with a grin. Wolffe looking back to you with furrowed brows. “What?” “So you’re my boyfriend, hm?” You giggled as you watched his eyes narrow on you, then widen in realization. “I was just trying to get him to leave, I didn’t mean-“ you interrupted him by raising your fingers to his lips. “Wolffe, it’s fine.” You spoke with a small smile. “I really do appreciate it, if it weren’t for you they’d probably be waiting for me outside for when I left.” Wolffe looked back to the men at the table. Then moved his attention back to you. “Well..” he started in, “if it’s okay, just pretend to be my date until they leave?” He spoke, and you were the one to shyly look away now. “I’d appreciate that.”

You had to remind yourself throughout the night that you two weren’t actually on a date. You were just being friends. You’ve known one another since General Plo got Wolffe in his Battalion. It was nothing new for the two of you to hang out outside of work, but you wished it was more than just in a friendly manor.

You sighed, the guys had left a while ago, yet you still felt on edge. Turning to Wolffe, you tapped his shoulder to get his attention. Since he was talking to one of his brothers. You could tell he was frustrated by the way his shoulders tensed when you touched him. He quickly relaxed though once he realized it was you. “I think I’m gunna head,” you spoke, and he turned around fully to face you. “Oh okay, you want me to walk with you back to your quarters?” He asked, and you nodded. “If you could, please?” He smiled, you were one of the few that were able to make him smile by just offering softly spoken words. “Plus since you’re my date, it’s the right thing to do.” You shot the tease at him. Snickering at his signature eye roll.

You jumped from the stool, landing on your feet. The two of you, well mainly yourself. Said your goodbyes to the others left in the cantina. Then off the two of you went. Wolffe holding the door open for you, and following you out.

The two of you walked down the street a ways until you could find a cab to wave down. Climbing in and heading back for the hanger. The ride wasn’t really too long, though it was quiet. You were thinking of what you could say to him. What you could do to maybe tell him that you wanted to go on a real date sometime, but before you could. The cab was stopped and you had reached your destination. Wolffe paying the fee and the two of you climbing out and heading back for your quarters,.

You walked the halls in silence, as usual. Though you really didn’t hate it. You weren’t too fond of silence when you had so much to say all at once. “Thank you again, for tonight.” You spoke the first thing that came to mind. Once the two of you reached the door to your room. He gave you a bit of a grunt, and nodded. “ ‘f course.” He spoke, hands resting at his side. You reaching over and grabbed his one hand. Both of you watching your movement closely. “I mean it.” You spoke, the two of you catching one another’s gaze. “For a fake date, I enjoyed every second of it.”

Wolffe was practically staring into your soul at this point. You squeezing his hand, and then relaxing your fingers in attempt to let go. Thinking you upset him, but he had a firm grip on your hand. You weren’t complaining though. “I enjoyed it too,” he murmured and you bit your lip. Glancing to the side, then back to the commander. “Did you wanna come inside?” You nearly whispered, and he nodded slowly. You opening the door to your room. Then pulling the male in behind you.

He paused for a moment, and so did you. You both back in the same position you were in in the hallway. “Can I kiss you?” He asked, and your breath caught in your throat. “Yes,” you said, nodding your head along with your words. Freezing up when his calloused hand reached up to cup your face and stroke your cheek with his thumb. Leaning down to press his lips against yours.

You had been waiting for this moment for what felt like forever. You’d dropped hints, kissed his cheek, hugged him, held his hand, everything that you thought he would notice. Since he wasn’t the best with understanding flirting. It flew over his head half the time anyways.

He pulled back after a moment. His fingers moving to trace your jaw. Whimpering a bit and your eyes fluttered open. Just in time to see a switch flip in his eyes. He pressed you up against the wall. Kissing you again, though this time it was rougher than the last. You yelping into it when your back pressed against the surface. Arms moving to wrap around his neck. Moaning into his mouth when he shoved a leg in between yours and up against your warmth.

He took this to his advantage, shoving his tongue into your mouth and the two of you battled for victory. Though it was stupid of you to even try. He was winning from the beginning, and soon his tongue was roaming every inch of your mouth.

You brought your legs up to wrap around his waist. Hands moving to undo his upper armor and he helped you out. His top half now left in his blacks. As his armor fell to the floor with a clank. Now it was your turn. Wolffe pulling the little armor you wore off, and the two of you were ripping each other’s shirts off like that was your jobs.

His mouth traveled to your neck in nearly an instant. While your hands roamed his exposed chest.. Moaning when he sucked and bit down on your skin. Thankful he was leaving most of the bigger marks where you could cover them. You’d have a lot to explain to the council if they found out you were sleeping with the commander you were occasionally the general of. When Plo needed the help or was off doing something else.

You ran your fingers through his hair. Tugging a bit when he moved down to your breast. One hand squeezing while his mouth sucked. Making you squirm, especially when his mouth swapped over to the other and your ignored one was left with cooling saliva.

It wasn’t long before he was peeling you from the wall and slamming his lips back against yours while walking you to your bed. He placed you down, parting from you for a second so he could remove the rest of his armor. Which he did effortlessly. You doing the same, slipping your pants off as he did as well. The two of you left in nothing but your underwear now. Eyeing one another like you were starving and each other’s bodies were the only thing that could feed you both.

He climbed back over top of you. Eyes roaming your skin, then moving back to your face with a lust filled gave. Though he had a look of admiration as well. “We can stop, whenever you want,” he assured you, and you nodded. You knew he wouldn’t force you into anything you didn’t want, but the words were still so sweet to you. Reaching up to hold his face with your hands, and pull him down for a short kiss. Pulling back and he was chasing your lips for more. “I can assure you I’ve wanted this for longer than I’d like to admit.” You spoke, and he smirked. “Good to know I’m not alone.” He nearly growled. Beginning to trail kisses down your body once more.

You were squirming so bad. Needing some sort of friction and attention. Basically shaking as he licking and bit your skin. Panting like a dog in heat when he moved to your thighs. Now pinching along your sensitive skin. “Wolffe, Kriff, please,” you mewled. The commander smirking as he moved his fingers to lightly trace over your underwear. “Please what?” You were going to get him back for this, but right now you couldn’t think clearly. “Please touch me,” you huffed, and he listened.

He pulled your panties down your thighs, bringing his face even closer to your entrance. Arching your back when he blew against you. You were already so sensitive and you needed some form of release. Wolffe moving his fingers to rub against your folds and then up to your clit. Flicking his tongue out to imitate the same movement his finger did. Which had you unwinding. Hands moving to tangle in his short locks while your legs wrapped around his head.

He continued licking you and sucking, like you were all he wanted to eat. Fingers pushing in and out in an upbeat tempo. Your body beginning to shake as your climax started nearing, “oh Kriff, Wolffe.” You gasped, and he could tell you were close just from the shake of your voice. Pulling back and you let out a whimper. Looking up to him with a pout, and he grinned as he kneeled between your legs. “I’m not done yet,” he assured. The gruffness of his voice making you shudder.

He pulled his boxers off, and readjusted himself between you. You eyeing him for a moment, and watching as he held something between his fingers. Then slipped it over his dick. You weren’t sure how he was keeping a condom hidden, but you weren’t about to ask. You were just thankful he wasn’t about to unintentionally knock you up.

“Did you have this idea all along, or were you planning on taking someone else home.” He chuckled at that. Leaning down to kiss your cheek and press the head of himself against your entrance, making you squirm again. “I’ve had this idea for a while, but never had the chance to act upon it til now.” He murmured against your skin. Kissing your temple, then down your face to your lips as he pressed inside you. Your arms and legs moving to wrap around his body.

He was a lot to take in all at once, thankful he moved in slowly. Thankful for the kisses and sweet nothings he used to help distract you. Once you were finally ready though, you moved your hips up a bit. Nearly melting at the feeling of pleasure that coursed your body. Wolffe obviously feeling the same by the grunt and the way his nose scrunched.

His one hand held onto your hip while the other was pressed beside your head on the bed. Rocking his hips while your finger tips pressed into his back. Eyes locked on one another. Giving him a nod and he picked up the pace. The sound of skin on skin and your guys’ short and ecstatic breath filling the room. Both your eyes falling shut as your both neared the end. “Kriff-“ Wolffe grunted, and you leaned up to burry your face in the crook of his neck while his thrusts quickened. Getting sloppier and more uneven as he chased his orgasm and pushed you to your own.

You let out a small cry, muffled by the skin of his neck as you reached your limit. Your walls clenching around him was enough for him to topple over as well, letting out a cry of his own. Riding out his orgasm with a few more sloppy thrusts, before pulling out of you and rolling off of you with a groan. The two of you laying on your backs panting. Trying to live out your highs. Once Wolffe was down from his he moved to remove the condom, tying it and tossing it in the bin next to the bed. Then climbing back next to you in bed.

He lied on his side, facing you. Unsure if he should touch you or not. Both your chests still heaving and sweat was beading on your forehead still. “You just gunna.. stare at me?” You asked, turning your head to look at him, smiling tiredly as a small lop sided smile crept onto his own face. “Wasn’t sure what else to do,” “you can hold me, for a start.” You didn’t have to tell him twice.

His arms reaching out and pulling you close to his body. You pulling the covers over the both of you, since the cold was slowly staring to creep up on you. Humming a bit when his hands repay through your hair. “Your hair is so soft,” he muttered. Making you smile, kissing a few of his scars on his chest while you cured up next to him. “Maybe I’ll let you use my conditioner in the morning,” and you did. He loved it, too. Because each time he caught a whiff of the shampoo and conditioner out on the field, all he could think of was you. Which was enough to keep the commander fighting, for you.

#commander Wolffe #commander Wolffe x reader #Wolffe #Wolffe x reader #lemon #star wars #star wars writing #the clone wars #writing #clone wars x reader #clone wars #the clone wars x reader

252 notes · View notes

lokiondisneyplus · 3 years

Text

Most Marvel post-credit scenes hint at the future. Loki opted for a blunter approach: the God of Mischief would return in season 2.

Based on the final turn of events, there was really no other choice: Loki (Tom Hiddleston), having journeyed to the furthest point in spacetime with his variant Sylvie (Sophia Di Martino) to meet the founder of the TVA, a scientist-turned-survivor-of-multiversal-war known as He Who Remains (Jonathan Majors), finds himself zapped into a new reality when his lady self slays the omnipresent being. The mind reels!

Creator Michael Waldron takes delight in the endless possibilities of Loki’s core premise. And as a veteran of Rick and Morty, he knows what anchors a mind-bending show, and what will keep Hiddleston’s character hurtling through his chaotic, rewritten future. Below, Polygon talks to Waldron about landing on the key choices of Loki season 1, what to expect from season 2, and a bit on his next project, the wrestling drama Heels, which is set to premiere on Aug. 15.

Did you know there’d be a second season of Loki from the beginning or was that choice made later in the process?

Michael Waldron: We always knew that it was a possibility. We always knew that we wanted to propel Loki and these characters out into the MCU after this, into further stories. But that didn’t really crystallize as a sure thing until we were in production and everything. And as we were really figuring out the finale.

So you were still cracking the ending as you shot the show?

There was a hiatus due to the pandemic. So things were constantly being retooled because of that. I think, by and large, everything with He Who Remains and the Sylvie-Loki conflict was always there. But that cliffhanger was the sort of thing that suddenly became a really appealing opportunity, a chance for that to lead into a second season.

What element of the series helped you crack the macro story of Loki, and made all the other pieces fall into place? Each episode almost feels like a standalone adventure, similar to Rick and Morty, but what helped it all click?

The first couple of weeks in the writers room was just laying out the individual episodes. It was very important to me that each episode stood on its own, and you could say “This is the Lamentis episode,” “This is the apocalypse moon episode,” “This is the Void episode.” I didn’t want it to just be cut up chapters and have one long continuous story. Obviously, we had to figure out the time travel for things to slot into place. I think a big idea for us was the way you get around the TVA by hiding in apocalypses. That felt like such a big, cool, exciting idea that it drove the action of episode 2, episode 3, and in a way it’s like Alioth is the ultimate apocalypse that He Who Remains is hiding behind. That sci-fi idea cracked a lot open for us. I know that after we had that I went home and I slept a little sounder.

Did adding the multiverse to the Marvel Cinematic Universe feel like blowing something up or expanding it, in terms of narrative possibilities?

In the same way that after the first couple Iron Man movies, and with the first Avengers, suddenly these movies were kind of going to space. Then we had Guardians. I think of the multiverse as another version of that. It’s new ground to cover, and particularly interesting because characters meeting other versions of themselves and other versions of people they know is... cool. That’s just a cool sci-fi concept! But I think with anything, as you expand outward, it only works if the humanity remains. It’s exciting to watch characters dealing with big crazy multiversal conflicts because we can see ourselves in them. I think you just have to hold on to the humanity that makes these stories work in the first place.

Did you go back to the Thor movies for Loki? Was there anything to find in the past of Marvel as you were paving the future?

Absolutely. I mean I watched them many times, contrary to what Twitter might think because I did some bits on there saying that I’ve never seen Avengers and I upset some people [laughs]. I have seen it many times. “Confirmed: Loki writer has seen Avengers and saw it before writing Loki show.”

In fact, I was watching all these movies on a loop in the writers’ room. I gleaned so much because you watch the evolution of the character. Avengers was particularly informative because our story picks up Loki right after that, but I also I found a lot of inspiration in Thor: The Dark World, a maybe sometimes maligned movie that I actually really enjoy. I just think there’s great stuff with Loki being tangentially responsible for the death of his mother, how he reacts to that. That is the start of his journey of that version of Loki’s redemption, so I was inspired by that.

What’s propelling the characters into season 2? Where are you headed in basic terms?

In season 1, you saw a lot of characters reckoning with and questioning their own glorious purpose, and that glorious purpose changing, [characters] realizing that that can change. Everybody except for Sylvie. I think she holds onto hers, which is vengeance, and to the detriment of us all, perhaps. And we’ve got a Loki who, at the top of our show, assessed himself as a villain and, I would argue, at the end of our show, has become a little bit of a hero. There’s nothing more heroic to me than fighting for the right thing and losing. You see that washing over him as he’s there back at the TVA, after Sylvie has knocked back there. And then he gets up because that is what heroes do — they keep going. So I think that you’re gonna see a Loki that looks at himself in a different way certainly that at the top of this.

Do you hope to explore more of Sylvie’s backstory in season 2?

I guess we’ll see. We certainly have our own rich backstory for her, stuff that didn’t get to make it into the show. Elissa Karasik, our episode 2 writer, wrote a lot of amazing backstory for Sylvia and everything. So those ideas exist out there.

And her version of Thor?

Tune in.

How did He Who Remains come about? Did you bring the character to Marvel or was that a character Marvel hoped to introduce?

I was pushing and our team was pushing early on in the writers’ room that it should be a version of Kang up in that Citadel, sort of fusing the mythology of He Who Remains with a little bit of the Immortus mythology. And that was a thing we were excited to do. And it became clear that it actually made sense for our story. The only way we were going to do it was if it made sense, but it was like, who had a better argument for creating the TVA to prevent other versions of themselves from existing then a guy as evil as Kang the Conqueror?

You wrote the upcoming Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness — did Marvel hire you for that after Loki? Does the movie feel like a continuation of the show?

Yeah, that opportunity came as we were getting ready to start production on Loki. It was a pleasure. I got to work with Sam Raimi, a hero of mine. I was in London for five months making that movie at the top of this year. We had a blast. I think that it’s a continuation in as much as ever every Marvel movie is to some extent a chapter in an ongoing story, but these things are meant to stand alone and the most important thing about Doctor Strange too is making the most kick ass Doctor Strange movie we could.

Is Loki a two-part show now or are you invested in telling a longer story with future seasons beyond season 2?

Time will tell, but I do my hope is that season 1 stands on its own. We always wanted to tell a complete story there. And in whatever the next chapter may be will stand on its own as well.

Your next show, Heels, is already on the way. We got a big preview out of Comic-Con this year, but I’m curious about the scope of this story. You’re starting with two brothers running an independent wrestling franchise, but you’ve dropped the name “Vince McMahon” a few times — is this about the building of an empire? Would you liken it to The Godfather or Breaking Bad?

I always thought about it a little bit of a Scorsese-sort-of rise, and we’ll see if there’s a fall. Starting from humble beginnings and trying to build some crazy. Wrestling was certainly not always the empire that it is and that’s what’s interesting, to watch the evolution of a family-run wrestling business from something you do in your small towns and perhaps a national, even global empire. That would be a really compelling arc for a show over the course of several seasons. I’d be excited to explore that.

What’s the most dramatically fulfilling wrestling moment you’ve witnessed? What’s the bar for the wrestling drama of Heels?

It’s gotta be Hulk Hogan turning heel in the WCW. There was an invasion storyline, these guys from WWF, Kevin Nash and Scott Hall, came over and they were the bad guys. It was at a Pay-per-view and and they were beating up on the good guys that you love, and here comes Hulk Hogan in the yellow and red and he’s the hero. “The Hulk’s gonna get ‘em! The good guy’s here!” And then the Hulk just leg drops Randy Savage. That was the original Red Wedding. I just think about the boldness of turning him heel. To a little kid... I wasn’t even like a massive Hulk fan, but he was just such a mythological figure. What a chance that Hulk Hogan took as a performer, as a bankable kind of movie star at that point. That was bold, risky storytelling and it set off two years of amazing storytelling with Hogan just playing a craven, cowardly heel and just being so evil. I really respect the hell out of them for doing that. That was a great storyline.

#michael waldron #interview #loki #s1 #s2

60 notes · View notes

bowlegsandbiceps · 3 years

Text

Suptober Day 7: Young at Heart

i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)

Teen / Death!Dean & Human!Cas / Destiel / 5,073 words

Read on AO3

Suptober Masterlist (A03)

It was a snowy evening in the heart of winter when Death roamed the streets of Chicago. You wouldn’t have known him from any other young man, bundled as he was in a worn leather jacket, jeans and boots but there was a certain static about him that made other pedestrians give him a wide berth. He was headed to the fire station on the corner of Hope and Clairmont, humming a Billy Joel song as he avoided slush piles and other humans alike.

He posted up against a telephone pole, making sure to breathe so any passers-by would note the cloud of air passing his lips on every exhale and assure themselves that he was human. It was the least he could do. He checked his watch, an old Timex with a cracked face, and shoved his hands in his pockets. Any minute now.

Across the street, a young girl hurried into view from around the corner, her arms full of a bundle. She looked up at the sign over the fire station door, looked down at her bundle, and swallowed hard. A tiny arm rose from the bundle, naked and red. The girl took it and tucked it back inside the blanket. She sniffled, setting the bundle gingerly down on the top step before backing away slowly. One step, then another her eyes remaining on the pile of blankets before her face crumpled and she turned to run, a dry sob echoing down the empty street.

Death pushed off the telephone pole and made his way leisurely across the street. The baby had started to cry, cold now without its mother to hold it and keep its limbs covered. Death looked down at it, feeling its little heartbeat slow. He crouched down, breathing directly onto the child, and knew he was likely making its final moments worse, a wretched thing like him, even if he was trying to provide a little warmth.

Then something unexpected happened. The baby quieted and bright blue eyes opened, holding Death captive in an intense stare. Death couldn’t feel things, he mused, but if it could, surely it would have been charmed by the babe who instead of recoiling from its impending end, raised a hand toward him, beckoning.

Death raised a cautious hand, one finger hooking in that tiny fist and he was surprised at how strong it was, despite the hypothermia. The child held his gaze still, just looking not pleading or frozen in horror and Death glanced at his watch again, noting the time. He looked up at the firehouse door, the sound of laughter dulled by the heavy metal. If only the girl had knocked before she ran. Death looked back to the child, its ethereal stare snagging his again.

Death raised his hand and knocked.

Inside the firehouse, a number of men made an uneasy circle around the strange man holding a bundled infant. Death hadn’t meant to stay but since he’d already gone and messed with the strings of Fate he figured he might as well assure that the child was taken care of.

“You found him on our stoop?”

“Yeah, you know, I figured some poor kid musta left him. Safe harbor and all.”

Death looked around then down at the babe who seemed to be transfixed by Death’s face. Death wondered what he saw, why he wasn’t scared. His little soul was a speck of shining light, strong and hearty though his body was frail with the beginnings of pneumonia settling in his lungs.

“Why didn’t you take him to a hospital?”

Death blinked and the man recoiled slightly. “Well, he was left here, and don’t you have EMTs on staff.”

One of the men seemed to shake himself out of a stupor and stepped closer. He shivered as Death transferred the baby into his arms, the brush of his hand on Death’s coat giving him a sudden vision of fire and smoke and a strange sense of vertigo as if falling through the floor. He coughed, moving to lay the child on the table and it immediately started to cry. Death hovered closer moving into the child’s line of sight and it settled down though still made discontented noises as he was poked and prodded.

“Did you see who dropped him off? A firefighter asked and Death shrugged, hands back in his pockets.

“She was young. Hurried off before I could say anything.”

The firefighter narrowed his eyes but didn’t question it. “Did she say anything? Why she was dumping him? If he had a name?”

Death paused, looking down at the boy whose eyes were on him bright blue as all newborns are but there was an electricity in them. Death laid a gentle hand on the child’s head, feeling the soft down of hair, the fragile skull.

“No,” Death said finally. “But his name,” Death smiled and the child seemed to smile back. “Is Castiel.”

“Cas-tee-what?” One of the fire fighter’s whispered to another and Death turned towards him, causing both men to step back.

“Castiel. The Angel of Thursday.” Death’s thumb swiped across the child’s forehead. “The Angel of Solitude.”

Death was a busy man, lots to attend to and never in the same place for very long. He worked mostly with children, preferring to be the one to usher them to the other side but as time passed he found himself returning to one place over and over.

The child he saved had been adopted almost immediately by a couple who’d lost many children of their own. Death may have pulled a few strings with Fate but the outcome was ideal. Castiel grew up well-loved and cherished by a mother and a father who understood the great gift they’d been given. They even decided to keep his name, something that pleased Death immensely. If he gave the grandparents a few extra years because of it, well that was his business.

It was a windy day at the beginning of spring when Fate suddenly shifted and Death lighted down in Chicago once more. Castiel, climbing around on the jungle gym at the local park, his babysitter on the phone several yards away was forty-five minutes from an untimely end. Death hung back, hands in the pockets of his leather jacket as he watched the scene play out, an older man making his way over. Death eyed the babysitter as the man approached Castiel, holding a leash and collar.

“My dog got out of her leash! Can you help me find her?” The man said, his face drawn in grief but Death saw into his heart and his rage rumbled as thunder in the distance.

“Oh no!” Castiel exclaimed, jumping down and touching the leash in the man’s hand. “I’ll help you find her. I got a dog too. His name is Marshmallow.”

The man offered his hand and Castiel took it.

Death was there in an instant, one hand on the man’s shoulder. When the man looked up, his mouth opened in surprise and he gasped his last breath. Castiel cocked his head to the side at the man crumpled on the ground before he looked up at Death. Death could only stare back.

“What happened?”

Death shifted from foot to foot. “He was a bad man. He wanted to take you.”

Castiel’s eyebrows rose and he looked down at the cooling body on the wood chips. “Is he going to be okay?”

Death fought a smile, eyes flicking to the reaper nearby before waving them away with the man’s wretched soul. “He’s gone to where he belongs.”

Castiel nodded and offered his hand. “Wanna swing with me?”

Death’s neck jerked in surprise but found himself carefully slotting his hand in the child’s and allowing himself to be lead off to the swing set.

“I’m Castiel. What’s your name?”

Death paused thinking back to a time when he had a name. “Dean, I think.”

“Hello, Dean.” Castiel looked up at him, his face dominated by large blue eyes. “Wait, you think? Don’t you know your own name?”

Death huffed. “Well, no one has used it in… a very long time.” He cleared his throat.

“I’m sorry, Dean.” Castiel grabbed onto one chain of a swing and turned to sit in it. “It must be lonely, no one knowing your name.”

Death sat in the swing next to the boy and pursed his lips. “Maybe a little, but it’s not so bad. My work keeps me busy.”

Castiel kicked off with his feet and began pumping his legs, reaching higher. Death lifted his head to watch. “‘Daddy says ‘all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy’ I asked him who Jack was.” Castiel let his feet drag along the ground, grinding to a halt and Death felt a smile quirk at his lips as the child’s head tipped to the side in confusion. “But he just laughed.” Castiel’s head righted itself. “Not at me though. Sometimes I’m funny and don’t realize it.”

Death surprised himself with a laugh, the sound carrying on the wind and making the group of people gathering around the corpse by the jungle gym shiver. The babysitter was still on the phone but the commotion was stealing her attention. Death turned to look at Castiel, rocking back and forth in his swing, his eyes on the horizon.

“Hey, just so you know, for next time, any stranger comes up to you asking you to go somewhere with them you kick em in the shin and scream your head off,” Death rested his palm atop the boy’s head and Castiel looked up at him, a small smile playing across his lips. “Capiche?”

Castiel gave a deep nod. “I capiche.” His eyes had found his babysitter who was now frantically searching for him. When her eyes landed on him, Death hid himself from her. “She looks really mad.”

“She’s just scared,” Death replied and Castiel looked over at him. “You wandered off and she didn’t know where you were.” And a guy dropped dead about six feet from where you were playing.

“Castiel!” The babysitter skidded to a halt in the gravel in front of Castiel’s swing, pulling him into her arms. “You scared me.” She picked him up, hooking him on her hip. “Come on we need to go.”

The child heaved a deep sigh as if resigned to his fate. “Okay.” He twisted in her arms, looking back at Death, and gave a small smile. “Goodbye, Dean.”

“Bye kiddo.”

The babysitter was already starting to walk away and she snorted, looking over her shoulder then at Castiel. “Who are you talking to.”

“Dean. He’s my new friend.”

Death sat smiling until they were out of sight.

Castiel was eight when his dog Marshmallow was going into his fifteenth year. Death generally let the new recruits handle the animals but on a scorching summer day, he found himself standing at the gate of the big craftsman on the corner where Castiel lived. He looked up at the second-story window, the one he knew to be the young boy’s who was getting bigger every day.

They’d met many times over since that first encounter in the park and to Death’s surprise, Castiel always remembered him and knew him by name. Now seemed to be no exception, the front door opening to release Castiel into the world. His dark hair was an unruly swirl beneath the baseball cap he wore, his matching t-shirt proclaiming he played for the Mustangs, sponsored by Nally Ford.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel said with a small smile as he approached. Death smiled back but his eyes caught on the white ball of fluff that was attempting to make his way down the porch steps to follow the boy.

Death let himself in the gate, striding forward and they met halfway, Castiel looking up into Death’s face while Death peered down into his. There was no fear there, no anxiety. There never had been, a wonder Death never could truly comprehend. Marshmallow gave a low growl. Death glanced down at the old dog, barely any teeth left in his head but ready to bite at the smallest provocation. That was about right.

“Marshmallow. No.” Castiel looked down at the dog then back up into the face of Death. “He’s just grumpy because he doesn’t feel good.” Castiel watched as Death crouched down, hand reaching. The growl ceased as Death’s hand hovered over the dog’s head and Castiel squatted down to pet him, hands gentle around the old dog’s ears.

“Yeah, about that,” Death began softly. “This is going to be hard for you to understand, Cas, but Marshmallow is very old.” As he said it, the dog’s eyes sank closed. Castiel rubbed his ears.

“I know.”

Death swallowed hard, his hand moving to hover over the dog’s back and Marshmallow’s legs gave out, his body rolling to the side as he began to pant. Castiel rubbed his belly. “And when dogs get very old, well, they have to go.” Castiel looked up at him. “And when that happens, someone comes to get them.”

Castiel looked down at the dog who was panting, tongue lolling out the side of its mouth. He ran his fingers through the curly white fur at his side. “Not the dog catcher…”

Death chuckled. “No, no not the dog catcher. Someone who helps them make the transition to their next journey.”

Castiel continued to play with Marshmallow’s fur. “Who?”

Death licked his lips, sucked in a breath he didn’t need. “They look like ordinary folks, sometimes you can see them, other times you can’t.”

“Like you?”

Death blinked and took a moment to marvel at the feeling of surprise, something he hadn’t felt in eons. “Yes, like me.”

Castiel looked up at him, blue eyes steady but solemn. “You’re here to take him, aren’t you?”

Death swallowed hard, the sorrow in the boy’s voice cutting him deeper than tears ever could. “Yeah, Cas. I’m sorry.”

Castiel sniffled a bit as he looked down, petting down Marshmallow’s side. “You’ll look after him? Wherever you take him? He won’t be alone, right?”

Death placed a hand on the back of Castiel’s neck and waited for a shiver that never came. Finally, he spoke. “Yes, of course, Cas.”

Castiel sucked in a deep breath and sat down on his butt, folding his legs so they butted up against Marshmallow’s legs. “Can I have just a few more minutes?”

Death glanced at his watch and nodded. They sat there, young boy and ancient entity as the dog’s breath became more shallow. Castiel dug his fingers into the thick curls of Marshmallow’s side and folded himself in half, pressing his face to its chest. The dog fussed attempted to lick at Castiel’s ball cap. Castiel breathed in deep and Death found himself doing the same, smelling cut grass, sweat and the musky odor of an animal nearing its end.

“It’s time, Cas,” Death murmured, his voice low and Castiel lifted his head, face tear-stained now, but he wiped them away with the back of his hand. He placed his hands on the dog’s side, looked up at Death, and nodded.

Death allowed the dog to sniff the back of his hand, accepting the feeble lick before he carded his hand through the curls at the top of his head. Castiel’s hands that had been rising and falling with the dog’s labored breath stopped. Death curled his hand and brought it to his chest, holding it there for the feeble soul to feel safe on its journey. His other hand when to the top of Castiel’s head.

“Go get your father. He’ll help you with the ritual.”

“Can’t you stay?” Castiel asked, blue eyes shining with unshed tears and if Death had a heart it would have broken.

“I’ve gotta get Marshmallow to where he belongs.” Dean knuckled away a tear that was making its way down Castiel’s cheek.

“Okay,” Castiel lowered his head, looking at the cooling body of his beloved pet. He looked back up. “Goodbye, Dean.”

Death was unprepared for the boy to wrap his arms around him in a tight squeeze before getting up and walking back towards the house.

Castiel was twenty when his fate changed again and Death nearly didn’t make it in time. In the back seat of a car, driving way too fast down a dark winding road, Death appeared next to him, his face striated in moonlight. Castiel jumped, his reflexes slower with the alcohol in his veins.

“Dean?”

“Cover your face, kid.” Death muttered as he braced his feet against the seat in front of him and threw out an arm.

When they hit the tree at 63 miles per hour Castiel’s body slammed into his arm and Death could feel the ribs break, felt the punctured lung as if it were his own. The driver was halfway through the windshield, another reaper already there to take him. Death waved them away as blood slowly filled Castiel’s lungs.

He coughed, choking on the acrid liquid, unable to get a full breath. His hand twisted in Death’s leather jacket, tugging, blue eyes wide and for the first time Death saw fear there. He couldn’t stand it. He reached past the headrest in front of him, touched the mangled face of the boy there and he immediately stopped breathing.

“You can’t do that!” A voice sharp from outside the car and Death nearly jumped out of his skin when he turned his head to look out the window and found the small blond woman standing there with her clipboard of names. “It’s the other boy’s time, Dean.”

Death glared out at her, throwing open the door. “You got your soul. Get out of here.”

“You reaped the wrong-“

“The hell I did,” Death yelled and every animal in the forest quieted, the wind through the trees died down.

The two of them watched as headlights appeared down the road, slowing when the driver saw the wreckage. Death and Fate stood side by side on the shoulder of the road as the good Samaritan talked to Castiel through the back window, promising him everything would be alright.

“He’ll make it.” Death heaved a sigh, hearing the sirens in the distance.

“Just barely,” Fate muttered, consulting her clipboard. “One of these days you’re going to run out of favors.”

Death turned to look at her. “Not any time soon.”

It was three days later in his half-empty dorm room that Castiel attempted to take his own life. Death arrived just as Castiel kicked the chair out of the way, his body falling with an extension cord wrapped tight around his neck right into Death’s arms. A quick flick of his pocket knife and Death had freed Castiel, laying him gently down on the floor as he coughed and sobbed.

“No! Take me! I want to die!” Castiel twisted onto his knees, grabbing onto Death’s legs and hugging them tightly. “Please. I can’t take it. The guilt, it’s too much!”

Death ran his fingers through Castiel’s unruly hair. “It’s not your time.”

“It was my time,” Castiel wiped at his face, fury in his eyes as he glared up at the ancient entity. “I heard you and that lady talking. She said you reaped the wrong one!”

“You hit your head pretty hard, kid.”

Castiel wiped at his face furiously, getting his trembling legs under him. “I know what you are. What you do.”

Death brought himself to his full height, leveling Castiel with his most pensive stare. “Do you?”

“I’ve always known,” Castiel spit. “And I never cared. You were always my…” Castiel trailed swallowing hard. “My friend. But this, I can’t take this Dean.”

“Why can’t you just be grateful,” Death huffed holding out his arms.

Castiel’s face went slack with shock. “You kill the man I love instead of me and I’m supposed to be grateful?”

Death’s mouth popped open, surprised again, that made twice in a single decade now. “Your… the man you loved? Wow, how did I miss that?”

“You miss a lot of things,” Castiel spit, his eyes hard.

Death rubbed his mouth. “When-“

“Since I was a child,” Castiel heaved a sigh. “Look don’t try to change the subject. I was dying already, Dean!” Castiel’s fists were clenched at his sides. “Why didn’t you let me go? Why’d you have to take him? He was everything to me. How could you not know that?”

Death rubbed the back of his neck, “Life isn’t really under my purview, kid.”

“What about love then?” Castiel got right in his face, nose to nose, and Death stood stock still.

“I know it when I see it.”

“Then you must have been blind that night.” Castiel spun away, running his hands through his hair. “I can’t do this. Please. Take me.”

“No.”

“Why? Why not?”

“I told you. It’s not your time.”

“Are you sure it’s not because you have some weird obsession with me?” Castiel strode right up into what a human would call their personal space. “What is it about me huh? Why me? Why don’t you latch on to some other poor bastard?”

Death swallowed hard. “I can go if you’d like.”

Castiel let out a humorless laugh. “Stay. Go. What do I care?” He let himself fall onto his bed, face buried in his pillow while Death stood watch.

Death didn’t see much of Castiel after that or more like Castiel didn’t see much of him. He’d check in every now and then, saw him graduate college, move to the east coast, fall in love and get his heart broken only to fall in love again. Through it all Death stood watch, sometimes with Fate at his side, like at Castiel’s wedding.

“I could step in,” Fate murmured, an offer she wasn’t likely to make twice but Death shook his head, watching as Castiel beamed with happiness after kissing his husband.

It wasn’t long after that they met again in a hospital just north of Chicago. It was nearing midnight and no one was around. Castiel was sitting with his mother, his husband and father had gone home hours before but Castiel insisted on staying. Neither could understand why Castiel refused to leave her side but didn’t question it. Castiel was a good son who loved his mother very much.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel said as Death hovered in the doorway. “I was wondering when you’d show up.”

“I tried to wait for you to leave,” Death mumbled, looking down at his boots as he tapped his toe on the floor.

“Why?”

Death looked up and found Castiel’s head canted to the side, and he couldn’t help but smile. “We didn’t exactly part on the best of terms when we last spoke.”

Castiel looked down at his mother’s hand, so small and frail in his own. He cleared his throat. “You were right. I should have been grateful.”

“It was a callous thing to say when you were grieving.”

Castiel snorted. “That’s true.” He huffed a sigh. “But ultimately you were right. I didn’t love him. I didn’t know what love was then. Not that kind of love anyway.” Castiel ran his thumb over the thin blue veins of his mother’s hand. “How much longer does she have?”

Death checked his watch. “We’ve got a few more minutes.”

“Then sit.”

Death did, across the bed from Castiel and took in the changes, the strands of gray in his hair, laugh lines crinkling around his eyes and mouth.

“You know you look exactly the same as I remember you when I was four.”

Death grinned. “All that clean living.”

Castiel snorted, a grin pulling at his own lips before it faded. “You’ll take care of her?”

Death nodded. “Of course.”

Castiel squinted, opening his mouth then closing it again. Death heaved a sigh. “Go ahead. Ask whatever you want to ask me.”

Castiel’s cheeks bloomed a lovely pink that Death would see in every sunrise from that moment on. “How’s Marshmallow?”

Death blinked. “I give you one question to ask me whatever you want and you ask about your damn dog?”

Castiel frowned. “I loved that dog.”

Death rolled his eyes and chuckled. “Marshmallow is doing great. Has lots of doggy friends.”

A small smile tugged at Castiel’s lips. “Good. I hope Mom gets to see him.”

“I’ll make sure she does.”

“I’m ready.”

Death gave a small nod, waiting a beat to watch Castiel breath in steadily, his eyes on his mother’s face. Death reached forward, fingers brushing a white curl from her forehead before resting his palm there gently. One of the monitors began to scream. A nurse bustled in quickly, checking in and ultimately turning off the sound, standing by as the old woman took her last breaths. Death took her soul and cradled it to his chest.

“Take care of her,” Castiel whispered and Death gave him a solemn nod before he went on his way.

It wasn’t long after that Fate dealt Castiel another bad hand and Death had arrived to do his duty. Castiel’s husband laid prone on a hospice bed, his once strong body frail and hairless, ravaged by a disease Death hated almost more than he hated himself. Death came into the room unannounced, stood by Castiel’s side as silent tears ran down his face.

Death checked his watch.

“I can feel you.”

Death nearly fell over in shock. Third time in as many decades. Damn.

“Don’t hide, Dean. I’ve been expecting you.”

“I tried.” Death placed a hand on Castiel’s shoulder. “I tried but I’m out of favors.”

“It’s okay,” Castiel sniffled, his own hand coming up to cover the cool one on his shoulder and Death felt the warmth as if it were the sun. “How much time do we have?”

“Couple minutes.”

Castiel nodded, leaning forward and placing a hand on his husband’s shoulder, giving him a light shake. He gasped awake, eyes hazy with pain and medication but something in them still blazed when they landed on Castiel.

“Honey, I want you to meet someone. Can you see him? Next to me.” Castiel turned, looking up at Death, and licked his dry lips.

“Yes,” Castiel’s husband croaked. “He’s just as handsome as you said.”

Castiel let out a watery laugh, glancing up at Death who was not blushing as he reached up to rub his ear. “He’s here for you.”

Castiel’s husband nodded solemnly. “About time.”

Castiel let out a quiet sob and immediately tried to shove it back into his mouth. His husband squeezed his hand as Death squeezed his shoulder.

“Come on now. This ain’t the end. I’ll see you. Hopefully not too soon?” Castiel’s husband lifted his brows and Death gave him a small smile.

“Not if I have anything to do with it.”

Castiel was leaning over, pressing his forehead to his husband’s and breathing slow in his nose and out his mouth, barely hanging on. Death stepped forward, hand covering the one that Castiel held. One final gasp and then the room was silent. Castiel gave a soft cry, feeling warmth rush through him, love and light and something so bright it almost burned. And then it was gone.

Death pulled the soul close to his chest, his other hand lighting on Castiel’s shoulder. Castiel glanced up into the face of Death but was immediately distracted by the small ball of light in his hand. Castiel looked up and Death nodded in answer to his question. Castiel let go of the hand in his and wrapped his arms around himself as the tears came hot and fast.

“Can you please stay?”

Death shifted from foot to foot. “I need to take care of him. But I can come back.”

“Please hurry.”

Death wasn’t really the type to hang around any one place too long but for years after Castiel’s husband’.s transition, he found himself irrevocably drawn to Castiel. He’d always been to a certain extent but the man’s grief had worn down all his defenses, all his excuses to stay away. For once Death was welcomed into a home with open arms.

They sat on the couch and watched bad television. Death had a strange obsession with Dr. Sexy that Castiel found hilarious. Death tolerated all of Castiel’s terrible nature documentaries. It was one night as Castiel was going up the stairs to bed that he paused, looking back at Death who was putting the dishes in the dishwasher.

“I love you, Dean. You know that right?”

Death stood stock still and he’d be goddamned if it hadn’t happened again. He looked up to find Castiel just standing there on the third step, gaze just as intense as it had been when he’d first laid eyes on him as an infant. He didn’t have to say it. Neither of them did so Castiel just gave him a small smile and continued his ascent up the stairs. And that night, Death followed.

It was both the worst and best day of his tenure when Castiel’s time was finally up. Fate in her fussy suit with her obnoxious clipboard arrived to stand at the end of the hospital bed where Castiel lay, Death at his side.

“No more favors. No more tricks,” Fate said softly and Death looked away from the face of his beloved, aged and creased as it was now, while his was permanently stuck as youthful and smooth.

“Can I keep him?” Death asked, staring into the eyes of Fate and daring to hope. “I know it’s not ever been done. I know this is a one-person gig but…” Death looked back upon the only face he’d ever loved, into the only eyes that had ever truly seen him. “Just this once, can I keep him?”

Fate gave him a small smile. “Yes, Dean. He’s yours to keep.”

So Death and his companion were joined at the human’s crossing, bound by Fate herself to walk through eternity together. Sure they quarreled, sometimes even spending a few decades apart but the string that tethered them was unbreakable, a fact Death loved to remind his younger counterpart of.

It’s said that when a couple dies within hours of each other they’re always accompanied by another couple, two men, handsome and young, looking more in love than any cosmic entities had a right to be.

#suptober21 #destiel #supernatural #fanfic: supernatural #deancas #character death #the dog dies sorry #writing by me

30 notes · View notes

shinygoldstar · 3 years

Text

Midnight Snack

DannyMay Day 11: Midnight

(Also DannyMay Shadow, Scars, Power, Nature, Seasons, Teeth can you find them all?)

Word Count: 2271 (not beta’d. experimental writing)

Warning: mentions of ghost cannibalism, nothing explicit

@floralflowerpower – for that ghost cannibalism post

(it’s 1 am so i’m gonna sleep now. might post on AO3 later)

Edit: AO3 Added!

It was mid-October. The leaves are starting to turn yellow heralding the approaching autumn. Danny was happy because that meant the unusually hot weather is almost over. It wasn’t that he’s melting from the heat- quite the opposite, he’s probably the only person in Amity that isn’t sweltering under the sun with his cold core. But due to this exact same reason, his cooler body temperature also drew in water vapor which condenses on his skin, pooling into beads of water dripping down his shirt, making him appear extra sweaty. He can’t wait for the temperature to be cool enough to not change clothes every few hours. Good thing his clothes are purchased by the dozen; no one really noticed him wearing new sets of clothes throughout the day.

It was the contaminated fridge foods that disappeared first. No one missed them. At least until they can’t find the mutated turkeys for their annual Thanksgiving hunting event.

Danny yawned as he and his friends entered Fenton Works. Autumn is comfy. Just the right temperature where he can wear loose clothing and not be stared at for being underdressed for the weather. No ‘sweating’ either. His mouth closed with a click, a bit too fast on his new fangs. Danny winced. The fangs seemed to have grown longer overnight again. At this rate Danny won’t be able to pass them off as normal pointy canine teeth for much longer. It didn’t hurt but the itch is annoying. Danny took a detour to the fridge, grabbing an ice cube from the freezer and popped it into his mouth, absentmindedly chewing on the cubes to take the edge off the itch as they walked down to the basement lab. His parents are at a paranormal convention at a nearby city and won’t be back until tomorrow. Danny and his friends gladly took the opportunity to do their ‘Danny’s quarterly fitness test’.

Danny flipped on the light switch and walked to the center of the lab, transforming into his ghost form. “Okay I’m ready. What’s first on the list?”

Tucker dropped his bag and took out a piece of notebook paper, “Okay, first we gotta do the baseline measurements. Height, weight, temperature, and the ecto reading.” Sam dug through her sports bag, pulling out the measurement tape. She held it against Danny, eyes scanning the tape measurement numbers. “Still the same height.”

Tucker nodded, noting down the measurement in Danny’s health notebook. “Next, weight.” Danny stood over the scale. “Yup, still the same weight too.”

Then it was the ecto-samples that Jack misplaced in the kitchen fridge. Jack warned everyone a few days later (everyone knows to avoid glowing food on normal basis so the delayed warning is mostly just courtesy), but no one could find where it went and assumed it grew legs to join the other tiny ecto-samples lurking as their equivalent of household pests. (No matter how often Maddie tried to patch up the mouse hole it keeps reappearing in the same shape but in a different part of the house as if the original mouse hole got transplanted from its original location)

“Lunch Lady’s right. You need to eat more. You’re still as skinny as ever.” Sam remarked as Danny took the thermometer out of his mouth. “76 F. The ghosts keep attacking me all day and night. You’d think my parents would notice when a ghost sneaks pass them while they work in the lab but I triggered all their ghost alarms just by being in the house so they deactivated the system when I’m around. They must’ve kept it turned off during the day too.”

“Tough luck dude. Ecto scan next.” Tucker passed the scanner to Sam while Danny stood still for her to scan. The machine beeped, “Wow 6.8, that’s quite a jump from last quarter’s 5.1”

“Maybe it was from all the ghost fighting I did over the summer?”

As the leaves began to fall from the branches, ghost attacks lessened in frequency. Not looking the gift horse in the mouth Danny happily enjoyed the lack of ghost attacks to focus more on his studies. If he did well enough, he might even get Bs for his efforts. He also managed to avoid getting detention for the entire week much to the relief of everyone involved.

Two days before Thanksgiving, the Fentons finally remembered their turkeys. But by then it was gone. In a rush, they quickly purchased a pre-made turkey instead. While Danny enjoyed the fact that they’re having a normal family dinner for once, he can’t help but feel like there’s something off about the chicken. As if it’s missing a particular tangy or zingy flavor that would’ve made it richer in flavor. ‘Must’ve been because it’s overcooked.’

"Honey? Have you seen the new ecto-samples I placed in the basement lab fridge?" “Again Jack? This is the third time this month. Have you checked the upstairs fridge?” “I-ah was pretty sure I placed them in the correct fridge this time. Must be some no-good thievin’ ghost.” “I’ll set up the ecto-anti-theft, that’ll get ‘em good! No ghost can escape Jack Fenton for long!”

*Intruder Alert* *Intruder Alert*

Red lights peppered with robotic voice and alarm noises lurched Maddie into full alert mode. She quickly took stock of her surroundings and tried to wake Jack up. But Jack had his earplugs on and continued to snore blissfully. A loud knock on the door caught her attention. “What’s going on mom?” Jazz’s voice floated through the door. Maddie quickly rose to open the bedroom door, swiftly pulled Jazz in and locked the door. “Jazz dear, try to wake your dad up. I’ll go check on the intruder.” Maddie strode quietly to the door then paused, “Have you checked on Danny?” Jazz bit her lips and looked away for a moment “-ah yeah! Danny’s snoring so loud he can’t hear the alarm.” Maddie twisted the doorknob but paused, hesitating. “He’s fine mom.” Jazz reassures her. “If Danny wakes up, he’ll come here first. I’ll let him know what’s going on.”

The alarm rang loudly in her ears as she walked down the stairs to the basement lab, its loud ringing noise effectively covering up the sound of her footsteps. Reaching the basement floor, Maddie quickly crept over to hide behind the shelf on her left, eyes scanning the lab for the intruder.

The glass jars clinked as a shadow moved about the fridge. A very familiar shadow. That didn’t glow. Maddie turned on the lab lights. “Danny?” she started, carefully walking over to face him, her eyes still scanning him to check if he’s really her Danny. The faint, barely noticeable scar on his eyebrow from his attempt to fly off the tree when he was five is there confirming his identity.

“What are you doing down here-?” Maddie noticed the glowing jar in his hand, “and what exactly are you doing?” Danny hazily stared at her; eyes half-lidded. Maddie snapped her fingers to get his attention. Danny didn’t blink. “He's still not awake, Danny come on wake up!”, she shook his shoulders. “Huh? Wuzzat?” Danny groggily woke up. He blinked in confusion.

Finally aware of his surroundings, Danny looked down at his right hand that still held the glowing sample. “Aah!” Danny yelped dropping the sample, then realizing he dropped the sample, tries to catch the jar, fumbling clumsily. Maddie would’ve laughed if it was anywhere else but in this situation. “Danny, do you remember what you were doing?”

“I was doing my homework and was craving for a good cheeseburger?”

---

“And the half-opened jar of ectoplasm?”

“Pickles?”

---

“Dude are you for real? That was priceless!” Tucker crowed with laughter. Sam leaned away from Tucker to avoid the meat spittle, “Urgh! Gross Tucker! Swallow it before you speak!”

Danny grumbled into his glass of milkshake, “’s not funny Tuck. you didn't see her face. She was about ready to scan me for signs of ecto-possession. Good thing my lie about craving cheeseburger and opening the wrong fridge worked. Otherwise I’d be in big trouble if she scanned me now with my latest ecto-reading. Anyways I'm banned from the lab now.” Danny bit into his burger.

“So what really happened there dude? Did you seriously sleepwalk into the basement lab?”

“I think so? I don’t really remember anything before Mom found me in the lab. Only that I was feeling a bit hungry.”

The ghosts stopped coming. Everyone in Amity held their breath when there were no ghost attacks for two weeks straight, then a month. Then two months, three. No ghosts. They let out their collective breath. It might be too soon to hope but for now they will enjoy their ghost-free, perfectly ordinary life. It feels a bit strange to not have ghost related interruptions as part of their daily routine but they didn’t miss the ghost-related reconstruction expenses. The local insurance company employees received a nice bonus for the ghost-free month.

By the time March rolled in, Danny is restless. “Guys, there's definitely something big going on.”, he waved his hands for emphasis. “The Fenton portal is still open yet no ghost came through? Not even Boxy since the North District warehouse thing last month. There’s definitely something big going on. I've been taking the ghost-free break for granted for a while now and it helped save my grades but this is too big to ignore.”

“Dude, maybe it’s because you’re much more powerful now? Your latest reading last week is 8.2. None of the ghosts we’ve met so far is above 6 except for Vlad and the Ghost King.” Tucker suggested.

“You might have a point there, Tucker. We haven’t seen any of the ghosts bothering Vlad so far and he’s definitely higher than 6.” Sam added.

Danny frowned, “Maybe you’re right but I just have this nagging feeling that that’s not quite it.”

Danny entered the Zone with little fanfare. The area around the Fenton portal looked normal enough, the usual rocks and clouds of debris are still floating around in their usual areas. Danny aimlessly passed through the nooks and crannies, ducking under the endless spiral staircase, not entirely sure of what to look for. The Zone felt a bit quiet today but Danny haven’t been to the Zone that frequently to be certain about it.

The Ghost Zone, while still filled with random bits of odds and ends felt empty somehow. It wasn't until he sighted Skulker that he realized he hasn't seen any of the tiny blog ghosts nor the occasional passerby ghosts through his trip.

Luckily or unluckily, Danny quickly spotted someone he knew in the distance. As if called, Skulker turned his head towards Danny, then veered sharply to the left and flew fast in Danny's opposite direction, a first for the self-proclaimed hunter to not hunt his favorite prey. ‘Something's not right and Skulker definitely knows something.’ Danny thought.

Danny quickly chased after him; Skulker could never beat Danny at speed chase even at his best, and he won't be winning today's unplanned race either. “Hey Skulker! What’s going on?” Danny yelled over the gap between them but Skulker gave no reply, diving down deep into the reddish forest ravines of the island below. Not to be deterred, Danny did a quick aerial flip, adjusting his flight angle to follow down Skulker’s path. Danny soon caught up to Skulker and launched him into a nearby rock with sticky ectoplasm to hold him still long enough to talk. Skulker ejected from his metal suit but Danny was faster and caught the real ghost before he can escape.

(Why is Skulker fleeing?)

"Hey Skulker, not hunting me for once?" Danny asked teasingly.

Skulker paled (Danny never knew ghosts can turn pale) and squirmed even more. Danny's smile dropped.

"What’s going on Skulker?" he asked worriedly. “None of the ghosts have appeared in the human world and the Zone looks empty somehow”

Skulker squirmed a bit more but realizing he’s stuck finally said, “Ghost Child, haven’t you ever wondered why the Infinite Realms is never overcrowded?”

Danny frowned, puzzled as to where this leads to. “How is this related to this situation?” Skulker stared at Danny stunned.

“What?” Danny asked, suddenly self-conscious, “-was there something I was supposed to know about?”

Skulker sighed, unconsciously loosening a bit of his tension, “You’re so young. So very young. We Ghosts don’t fade as fast as Newcomers arrive from your world. In the Realms, there's a natural system that keeps the population under control. An ecosystem. There's predator and there's prey. And then there's the Apex Predator. There's a reason why Dark was feared. It wasn't just for his harsh rule. It was because he was the Apex Predator.”

Danny struck at the odd wording, "’Was’? Was that because he got sealed?” Danny paused, “But wait- if he's sealed, he would still be the Apex predator. So how-? Wait. Did I?"

Skulker nodded, "Good you're catching on fast. By defeating Pariah Dark, you have proven to the Realms that you're the best candidate for the Apex Predator. And with the new status comes sets of conducts, one your body instincts know well. You've been culling down the uncontrolled excess from Pariah Dark's sleep quite fast. Your hunger would settle down soon of course once balance has been re-established in the Realms."

“But- How- Wait- What-?” Danny looked down at his hand “Hey Skulker--!” but his hand is bare.

Danny’s lips tasted oddly tangy, energized.

-----

(Skulker might've slipped out of Danny's slack hand while Danny is in shock. Danny might've bit his lips hard enough to bleed. It's not that hard with his new fangs. But this is just speculation...)

#midnight snack au #danny phantom #dannymay2021 #DP ghost cannibalism #goldpost #Skulker BS'd on the spot and I took it as worldbuilding material #the added last part is the original ending #interpretation of the final ending is now up to you #😏😏😏

90 notes · View notes

mageofseven · 4 years

Note

Hi I just recently discovered your blog and I’m in love with your writing! I have a little request if you don’t mind. The brothers (and undateables I’d you want to) finding MC bruised and beaten and later discovering they got into a fight with another demon. Thank you in advance if you decide to write this!

Awww thank you so much! I might end up doing the Undateables in another post, but I'll just stick to the Brothers for this one.

And thanks for requesting 😊

TWs: violence, vague s*xual assault

Spoiler warning: 1st year spoilers in Lucifer's and vaguely in Belphie's section

Lucifer:

Was checking out the area under Diavolo's orders.

Apparently there have been some people sneaking around in the old Colosseum and normal methods to keep other demons away from the historical landmark have been futile.

That and word has made it's way that some criminals have been using the place to secretly make dealings

So when he got there, he had expected to find some such people lurking around

Instead he found MC on the ground in the center, bruised and bleeding with their arm bent in a very concerning way.

He rushed up to them, calling their name and checking them for signs of life.

Honestly, the man was having major flashbacks to the day he lost his sister.

This was exactly where Lilith fell and Lucifer had to watch his sister, all broken and in pain until Diavolo came and he had to make the deal that changed everything

The deal that eventually led to MC's existence

Yet here they were now, in exactly the same place and state and the demon couldn't help but break down for a minute with panic he tried so hard to conceal.

The human let out a groan and the man could only sigh in relief.

"MC, oh thank the Devil..."

"Luce...?"

"You'll be alright." He promised. "I'll take you over to have Simeon heal you."

Despite the internal panic and flashbacks of such a traumatic event, he still handled the situation well.

Once MC was all healed up, he asked them what happened.

Apparently, they found a note that someone had stuffed in their school bag, asking for them to meet at the Colosseum.

They thought it was weird, but curiosity had gotten the better of them so they went and were attacked while exploring the ancient building.

The demon had meant to kill her, but sensed Lucifer approaching so they dropped the human and ran for it.

Ends up getting as much info from them about the attacker as he can.

Even if MC doesn't want the demon to die for what they did, they get no say in the matter.

Because of their status as exchange student, this attack is a political issue and the consequences Lord Diavolo warned his people about originally must be put into play.

Politics aside though, Lucifer would never let any being who hurt MC get away with it.

Becomes a lot stricter with what they can and cannot do

Like, they're not even allowed to go for a walk around the block without either him or his brothers accompanying them.

Even changes up their class schedule to make sure they have at least one of his brothers with them per class and they even have to walk MC to their next one.

Any arguments about this from MC or the brothers fall on deaf ears.

He will never let anyone lay a hand on them again.

Mammon:

School day had ended and he was on his way to pick MC up from their class.

Since Lucifer decided the day they came that he was responsible for their safety, he always had to do stuff like this.

He was late today though since his teacher held him back after class.

Blah blah F on the test, blahh blah summer school, blaah blahh blaaaah. Whatever man; he wasn't listening

And because of them, he was late. So much so that when he arrived at the human's classroom, they weren't there.

Lowkey panicked.

Shit. Shit shit shit, where'd they go???

Practically runs in the halls trying to find them

Knows Lucifer will have his head for this if he can't track 'em down.

Ends up hearing some kind of ruckus in the courtyard

And finds a big group of students forming a circle and chanting "Fight!"

"Oh yell!" Is momentarily distracted from his problem and joins the group. "Fight! Fight! Fight--."

Oh shit. That's his human in the circle!

Mammon's brain just started buffering as he watched MC dodge and weave, even getting some good hits in. The second brother was actually pretty impressed.

The lower demon in the fight eventually lost his footing and fell to the ground, giving an opening for MC to give a big kick between his legs and the demon let out a shrill scream. His green skin started smoking and changed to grey as it hardened and suddenly seemed more like stone than a person.

The circle of students started cheering and Mammon's jaw practically hit the floor.

Holy shit, the human did it!

MC fell the ground, panting heavily and bruised from head to toe.

Mammon finally rushed up to them.

"Damn, MC! You're gonna give me a heart attack!"

All of a sudden, some students started running and others just quickly jumped back, revealing Lucifer and Diavolo.

....yep, he's dead.

The two older demons started asking MC questions as they caught their breath and Mammon tried to sneak away.

Lucifer grabbed his brother by his jacket, but otherwise paid him no mind as MC told their tale.

Apparently this demon that sits behind them in their Devildom History class had been giving them crap for a while; calling them names and pushing them around. Today they even started touching them in places that made them wanna break the demon's hand.

MC snapped and told them such. The demon only grinned. Honestly, he was probably waiting for them to say that.

From there, he dragged them out by their hair and the rest is rather obvious.

Diavolo had some of his men carry the demon away. Apparently, the stone-like skin is defense mechanism, essentially the equivalent of a turtle hiding in their shells for that sub-race of demon.

The prince assured MC that the demon will be dealt with and tasked Lucifer with getting them healed up.

Mammon was hung upside down from the roof for a few hours for letting this happen, but MC was patched up and okay in the end.

Leviathan:

He usually buys all of his otaku stuff off of Akuzon

But occasionally, he likes to go out and by manga at this store downtown.

It's a once in a blue moon sort of thing, but he still does it

MC felt like taking a walk so they joined him

The two explored the shop as Levi fanboyed about seemingly every other series he passed.

The otaku had already started a pile of manga he planned to buy.

He didn't even notice when MC left his side until he approached the counter to pay

Boy just assumes you bailed on him at first and sinks into self-loathing mode

Until he heard a scream from outside.

He abandoned his manga and raced out, just in time to see another demon run for it and MC leaning against the building.

Their right arm was bleeding from the holes and claw marks made into it.

The third brother started freaking out and rushed them home, even leaving his books there.

When they get back, Lucifer patches them up with a first aid kit and a little bit of a potion.

MC explains how they were shopping with Levi when all of a sudden they saw Beel outside the store waving at them

She went out to talk to him, but then suddenly, it wasn't Beel anymore.

Apparently, it was a shapeshifting demon and, since they specifically choose Beel's form to take, Lucifer assumed that they must have been watching them for a while and planning this attack. They likely chose Beel because they knew he was someone MC would let their guard around.

Levi felt like crap for letting them get hurt, but MC said it was their fault for being tricked.

Lucifer decided it was both their faults and gave them both a long lecture

Satan:

The fourth brother invited MC out for coffee

The blonde actually really likes the atmosphere of coffee shops and wanted to share it with them

The two ordered their coffee and sat at their table while talking about books. He recently read a book on artic fauna from the human world and was comparing the information he read with their own knowledge

It was a very relaxing experience like most of MC's quality with Satan.

Before the two of left, MC had to stop in the restroom.

That demon waited patiently for the human at their table, but when almost ten minutes went by, he became a bit annoyed and puzzled.

Not wanting to be rude, but also ready to leave, Satan approached the bathroom door

He paused mid knock when her heard a low growl followed by a cry from MC

Now in his demon form, the blonde kicked the door off its hinges. It wasn't locked or anything, but the man was super pissed.

Found a demon pressing MC, who had a gash in their head, against the opposite wall

'An eye for an eye' is more or less the philosophy he followed here, or rather, a head for a head.

He took the demon and slammed his head into another wall over and over again.

MC had to run up and tell him to stop after the other demon passed out.

They left the demon on the floor of the bathroom and Satan, with his arms around MC to keep them close, headed back to House of Lamentation

The human didn't want the other brothers to see them like this and worry so Satan snuck them into his room and went to get the first aid kit.

It was quiet between the two as he patched them up.

"I'm sorry for scaring you." He said as he finished with their stitches. "Seeing you hurt like that just made my blood boil. They deserved it, but you shouldn't have had to watch."

"It's okay... thank you for saving me."

The two spent the rest of the night huddled together in his room, reading and just settling down from the incident.

Asmodeus:

Shopping trip!

Asmo was a bit too enthusiastic about it, but that's part of why MC was all too willing to go

He mainly just wanted to see MC in cute outfits, but also bought a few for himself

Any self-consciousness MC might feel on her own is long gone when they spend time with him. He's always hyping them up and complimenting them and overall making them feel beautiful.

Time spent with Asmo is always a good time and well spent.

The fifth brother does actually leave their side for a bit after they found someone hot to flirt with

MC didn't mind and just let the Avatar of Lust do his thing as they continued to look through the racks.

At some point a very good looking demon approached them and started flirting with them

It became obvious that this dude was one of Asmo's demons, another demon of lust

Even with this in mind though, their attention really did make the human feel special, even if they probably said such sweet words to everyone

MC underestimated the demon, thinking that just because Asmo wasn't the aggressive sort that the demons under him wouldn't be either

Ends up following him out of the store and makes out with him against the wall of the building

They didn't understand why they were doing this, but the human's mind had been feeling foggy for a while now.

Suddenly, MC's whole body started to feel heavy and they were so dizzy that their vision was just a blur

Ends up passing out and waking up a few minutes later to Asmo crying as he stood over them and begging them to wake up

"Azzy?"

The man threw his arms around them.

Finds out that the fifth brother went looking for them when he saw that they weren't in the store anymore. He came outside just in time to see one of his underlings try to suck their soul out of their body.

As soon as they heard their superior's voice though, they dropped the human and ran.

The two went straight home and Asmo was extra clingy with them for the rest of the day.

Beelzebub:

The two of them went together to Madam Screams since they were both craving sweets.

Beel was really hungering for a cherry pit pie (though of course he planned on order other things as well) while MC was really hankering for some chocodevil cake.

The two happily got in line to pick out their treats, but MC stepped out to get a clearer view of the case with all of the treats to see if they wanted anything different instead.

Ends up getting attacked by a famished, minor demon of gluttony and slammed down on the glass case containing the sweets.

Beel jumped into gear; he changed into his demon form and threw the other demon off of them.

During the skirmish, the two ended up breaking down a wall and crushing three tables.

When the fight ended, the big guy rushed up to MC to make sure they're okay.

The human was bleeding and had a lot of glass shards embedded in their back and arms.

Though worried, the sweet boy keeps himself together and carefully takes out the bigger shards.

Rushes them home, treats forgotten.

Once home, Lucifer is the one who gets the rest of the glass out of their back and cleans up their wounds.

Beel stays by their side and lets them squeeze their hand when Luce's clean up hurts too much.

Luce gives his younger brother a lecture for all the stuff he had broken back at Madam Screams, but is surprisingly lenient with him.

The older brother didn't say it (and honestly, he should have), but he was proud of his brother for stepping up and protecting MC, but at the same time, expected nothing less from him.

Yeah, Lucifer will likely get sent the bill, but MC's safety is more important.

Belphegor:

Belphie had fallen asleep during class; no surprise there.

The rest of the students left the room when class ended, but the seventh brother continued to sleep at his desk.

MC found his sleeping face cute and didn't want to wake the demon

So instead, they hung around the classroom, waiting for the Avatar of Sloth to awake; the school day was over and the classroom wasn't going to be used for anything else so they thought there'd be no harm in hanging around.

Sadly, they were wrong.

Another student, a jerk from their Seductive Speechcraft class had waited for them to leave the classroom in order to harass them, but when they didn't come out, he came in.

Eventually had them backed up against the wall and forcing their hand up their shirt, causing the human to yelp.

He tried covering their mouth with his other hand, but MC bit them, angering the demon and leading them to putting their hands around their throat as he yelled at them.

The entire time, the minor demon never saw the Avatar of Sloth sleeping at his desk.

Big mistake.

Belphie woke up and saw the scene before him, turning into his demon form real quick.

Didn't hesitate to grab a hold of the bastard and make him let go of MC, who was now gasping for much needed air.

The seventh brother used his miasma aura to weaken the demon as he was now the one doing the choking with the lower demon.

MC covered their face and cried in their corner on the floor.

It was too similar to That Night™️ and the human was bordering on panic attack because of it.

Once the minor demon passed out, Belphie turned and saw MC crying on the floor.

He rushed up to them, but stopped once MC started screaming and begging for him to stay back.

That look in their eyes... it was the same fearful look he remembered from That Night™️

And it killed Belphie inside because he never wanted them to be scared of him ever again.

He waited for the human to calm down and, with their permission, slowly approached them.

He wanted to hug them, but was afraid that they'd just be reminded of it even more so he held back.

Surprising him, the human hugged him instead.

He held them tight for as long as they needed and started to notice the bruises forming on their neck

The two went home after that and reported the incident to Lucifer before Belphie dragged MC with him for a nap.

He chose Beel and his' room since he knew the attic would probably be too much for them right now.

Cuddled close to them and apologized for all of it. For falling asleep and leaving them defenseless. For the other demon's attack. For scarying them. Above all, that he was sorry for That Night™️

Masterlist

#obey me #obey me otome #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me mc

667 notes · View notes

chudleycanonficfest · 3 years

Text

Four Little Sips

Day 28, Post #2

Title: Four Little Sips

Author: JohnMcHacker

Pairings: Harry/Bill/Charlie (platonic), Harry/Ginny (romantic), Gryffindor Quidditch Team (platonic), Fred/George/Ron (platonic), Ron/Hermione (romantic)

Prompt: In Vino Veritas

Rating: PG

Trigger Warnings: Alcoholism, Referenced death, Language

Note to admin: Thanks for organising, this is my first time submitting, sorry if I'm late or if it doesn't meet requirements. I have also posted to the AO3 collection.

* * *

You see, Harry had never really had anyone just a few years older to look up to. Alright, there was Hermione, but they were classmates and best friends and at roughly the same place in life, it wasn’t the same.

That summer of 1998, in the wake of all that pain and death and sorrow, the Weasleys pulled together and pulled him in with them. On a few occasions, this meant having a few drinks with Bill and Charlie, in various nondescript Muggle pubs in the vicinity of Ottery St Catchpole.

“Just because Kingsley cut you some slack doesn’t mean you have to take the offer,” said Charlie. “You’ve spent your whole life fighting Voldemort, one way or anoher. You deserve to take a break. Live a little. Or else, what have you been fighting for?”

Harry thought of several memorable sunlit days, and found he couldn’t really disagree.

“Or at the very least, know why you’re putting your life on the line, once again,” said Bill. “Well, alright, you were the Chosen One, you had your job to do then. But now that that’s over, you ought to think twice why you’re risking your neck on your own account.”

“Well, I think I’d be good at it,” said Harry. “And someone has to do it. The Aurors are short-handed and too many of Voldemort’s thugs are still out there.”

Bill shook his head, munching a handful of chips. “That’s not good enough. Merlin knows I’d love a crack at the bastards myself. But your neck’s not just your own now, Harry. Ginny has a say too. That’s part of what being together means.”

“Muggle birds ain’t bad,” said Charlie, nodding at a trio of pretty college-age girls gathered round a table across the pub. They caught him watching, giggled, and winked in reply. “Don’t limit yourself to witches. But if you do, don’t mess ‘em around, play fair, and come clean as soon as you can.”

“The most important part of my relationship with Fleur is trust,” said Bill. “We don’t have secrets, and she trusts that I won’t suddenly run off hunting Death Eaters or dragons or Hor... whatever. And I trust her not to do the same.”

“Family’s what it comes down to,” said Charlie, draining his glass.

“Family,” nodded Bill. “Your first responsibility.”

“My shout,” said Harry, because that was something else they had taught him was right, to stand his round, and he went to the bar to get the drinks. When he returned, they had moved on to other important matters.

“Free advice, Potter, take it or leave it,” said Charlie, tapping the side of his nose, “women; you’ll never go wrong if you please ‘em first, know what I mean?”

“Oi! That’s our sister you’re talking about!” snapped Bill, trying not to laugh.

“So what? She’s got fi... four of you looking out for her. Maybe I just want to see fair play.” Charlie winked at Harry. “Let me tell you about what I call ‘wandless magic’, and trust me, it is magic.”

“That’s it, you’re done, Perce is my new number two, it’s you that Mum and Dad should disown...”

“There’s more where that came from, Harry. You want to know how to beat Ron at chess? He can’t play gambits worth a damn. Stick with me, I’ll show you something called a Smith-Morra, aye?”

Advice, experience, honour, laughter. Maybe this was what it was like to have older brothers, thought Harry. It filled a hole in him he never even knew he had.

* * *

Oliver would never have allowed it, but Angelina Johnson was a more fun-loving kind of Quidditch Captain. She passed the word around quietly, and so the five Gryffindor players above the age of sixteen met in the changing rooms fifteen minutes before Potter and the younger Weasley were due to arrive. Of course it was the Twins who’d acquired the goods, however they managed it. Fred produced the bottle of Ogden’s from somewhere under his robes with a flourish, and George grinned toothily as he conjured shot glasses from thin air.

“Alright, I know it was my idea, but just the one, got it?” warned Angelina, pouring the drinks herself.

“Aye aye, Captain,” said Fred. George sketched a sloppy salute her way.

Katie Bell was practically trembling with excitement and nerves. “Oooh, this’ll be my first drink ever,” she said, holding up the glass of amber liquid to catch the light. “Are you sure we won’t get caught?” she asked, looking around as if expecting McGonagall to burst out of a locker at any time.

“Course we can’t be sure,” said Alicia Spinnet. “That’s part of the fun!”

Angelina looked round at each of them, and shouted “For the Cup!”

“FOR THE CUP!” they chorused, and knocked back the Firewhiskey.

Two years later, the three Chasers were standing at the bar of the Hog’s Head, but they had Oliver back now, and Angelina knew somehow that that was important, they were going to go to Hogwarts and find Fred and George and Harry and reunite the whole Team, and it meant she had to do this. She leaned over the counter, rummaged through the grimy bottles and found what she was looking for.

“You’re mad!” said Oliver incredulously.

“Probably,” said Alicia cheerfully, “but we did this every match and still won the Cup, didn’t we? Sixth-years and above only, of course, we had standards,” she said, catching Oliver’s outraged look.

“Don’t tell me you’re going into a real battle and don’t want a drink, Oliver,” said Angelina calmly as she poured, and that was that.

Alicia and Katie and Oliver looked at her expectantly. Angelina searched for the words, and found there was really only one thing suited to the occasion. “Fuck Voldemort.”

“FUCK VOLDEMORT!”

And they did.

But oh God, the price they paid.

* * *

The Leaky was too well-known so they usually frequented a tiny hole-in-the-wall further down the street. The clientele was younger and the enchanted jukebox played muggle hits as well as the Weird Sisters, Mega Maggots, and the Bent Banshees, and that was perfect for the Twins. Perhaps half the entire current range of Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes had first been dreamed up in this pub.

“Alright, alright, what about this, George? Prank greeting cards.”

“You’re crazy, Fred.”

“Cards that won’t stop singing. Howler cards. Exploding confetti cards. Exploding firework cards!”

George finished his beer and signalled to the barman for another. The barman hesitated, then poured as George slapped a handful of Sickles on the counter. “Confetti yes, fireworks, I dunno,” said George. “Cheers, Fred.”

“It’s brilliant I tell you. Mud in your eye,” said his twin brother, and they drank. Then, quietly, Fred asked: “How’s the family?”

“Same old. They’re doing well. You should see the sprogs, it’s a hoot,” snickered George. “Ron and Gin and Harry and good ol’ Hermione, sneaking around trying not to get caught shagging like rabbits. God, the sights I’ve walked in on...”

Fred chortled along with George, and he finished the pint. The bell over the door jingled and new customers came in, but the twins barely glanced that way.

“Speaking of which. About her... you should do something about it, George,” said Fred kindly. “I see all the signs and I know you do too. She’s waiting on you. Go be a gentleman, Georgey-boy, go on.”

George sighed. “Not you too. Look, I get enough of this crap from Bill and Charlie, alright?”

“You two need each other. Besides, it’s too quiet around the flat.”

All at once, George’s face crumpled. “You don’t get to say that. Not you. Not you! YOU don’t say that!”

Fred said nothing, he only smiled, and walked away. George turned his head quickly to follow him, but as always, Fred slid out the corner of his eye and was g...

And then it was another Weasley brother standing in front of him.

This time, it was Ron they’d sent. Good old Ron, lanky and solid and biting his lip in sympathy as he came to find his older brother sitting alone at the bar hunched over a half-empty glass. On the counter beside him was one untouched full pint, the frothy head long since evaporated.

“Come on, George,” said Ron gently. “There, I’ve got you. Let’s get you home.”

* * *

She was a girl made of facts and reason.

That was just the way she was wired.

“Dutch courage,” she said to herself, eyeing the glass of probably cheap plonk as if it was poison. Which technically it was.

“What’s that?” asked Ginny.

“Dutch courage,” she repeated. “It’s a muggle term, meaning the confidence gained from drinking alcohol, according to the Cambridge English Dictionary. Although,” she amended, “it’s derogatory to Dutch people and we probably shouldn’t say things like that.”

“I’ll keep that in mind in case I meet anyone from Orange Tulip Land,” said Ginny, rolling her eyes. “You certainly don’t need that sort of thing, Hermione, you’re one of the bravest people I know!”

Probably just hyperbole, thought Hermione, as that would be quite something, given that Ginny hung around with Aurors and Quidditch players and her boyfriend Harry Potter, or ‘His Excellency Most Spiffing Chosen Boy Who Lived To Kick Voldemort’s Arse’ as George called him. She picked up the glass, sipped it carefully, decided she quite liked the taste of Chateau Diagon Alley or whatever this was, and had a bigger swig.

Here’s a fun fact: it takes 6 minutes for the brain to react to alcohol.

Six minutes later, she didn’t think she felt any different. Warmer perhaps, but the New Year party was in full swing and Hermione thought maybe it was just the ambient temperature rising from all the people circulating, moving, dancing, talking, laughing.

Fun fact: drinking is ‘fun’ because alcohol lessens tension, eases social interaction, and reduces inhibitions.

Hermione sat in her corner and nursed her glass and knew she wasn’t really a social drinker, or any kind of drinker, or even at all ‘sociable’ to begin with. She envied how effortlessly Ginny and Bill and Parvati and everyone else were visibly enjoying themselves; Hermione would honestly prefer a nice book, a pot of peppermint tea, and perhaps with the company of...

Breathless from joking with Aurors and Obliviators and Patrolwizards and friends, Ron flung himself down beside her and threw an arm around her, and Hermione’s stomach fluttered pleasantly. “Alright there, Hermione?” He followed her gaze towards the wineglass. “Not poisoned, is it? Cause that’s no fun, believe me.”

Fact: I want to say I...

“That’s not funny, Ron, you could’ve died,” chided Hermione, although she couldn’t help giggling. “No, I just... it’s Dutch courage.”

“What’s that?” Hermione told him about English soldiers and gin and bravery, and the way he looked at her as he listened made her feel warm all over. “Nice. You know everything, Hermione,” Ron said admiringly.

“Not everything,” said Hermione wistfully. “I don’t know how to have fun at parties. Well, maybe that’s one more thing I do know now,” she joked lamely.

Fact: I...

Ron laughed at her probably atrocious attempt at humour, and said “Rubbish party anyway. Too many plonkers just wanting to be seen with heroes like Harry and Neville” (characteristically, Ron excluded himself from that category, Hermione observed) “and they’re only here because Kingsley said they absolutely had to be. I’d much rather have a quiet night in at home with you, Crookshanks, a nice fire, maybe a...”

No, I don’t know everything, thought Hermione. But I know this fact. “I love you, Ron Weasley.” And she grabbed him and snogged the hell out of him, ignoring the catcalls and cheers that rose all around.

Was it really the Dutch stuff, or was it all her own self, after all?

To be continued...

#chudleycanonficfest2021 #HP fest #hp canon pairings #canon fest platonic #canon fest romantic #submission #tw: alcoholism #tw: referenced death #tw: language

30 notes · View notes

honeybeezx · 3 years

Text

Armor - Oberyn Martell x Reader x Ellaria Sand - Part 5

Author’s Note: This took me literally forever to write😂 A lot will be happening in this chapter and the chapters to follow, but because of that, they may take longer for me to write. Thanks for baring with me guys and I’m so glad you all have been enjoying this as much as I love writing it!

Summary: The Silver Hawk competes in an archery competition at The Red Keep.

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: violence, blood

————————————————————-

Don’t fuck this up, don’t fuck this up.

The mantra played over and over in your head as you laced your boots. Your hair was braided down your back, but no matter how hard you tried, a few whips of hair fell over your face. You knew it would not hinder your ability, but it annoyed you all the same.

“You ready for this, Little Hawk?” Bronn clasped his ginormous hand against your back and you nearly had the breath knocked from you. You bit back a cough and tried not to seem shaken by his surprise endearment that really felt more like an attack.

“Of course I’m ready.” You replied simply. You were confident in your abilities, but something didn’t seem right. There was a feeling rooted in your gut that told you to run, to get out of this as fast as you could. But your mind told you you were too far to turn back now.

Bronn smiled before looking at the flap of your tent, the only thing between you, the arena, the challengers, and the high society of Westeros. “Shoot straight, girl. Stun the livin’ daylights out of ‘em. Make anyone who ever underestimated you regret it.”

You smiled softly at Bronn. He was alright...sometimes.

You both turned your head at the trumpets sounding just outside your tent.

“Think that’s my cue.”

“Give ‘em hell.”

You adjusted your brace, made sure your quiver was tightly strapped to your back, and your bow tight in hand.

Time for battle.

You walked out of the tent and forced your eyes not to water at the blinding sun. It was such a large shift from the shaded tent, were you not accustomed to training your eyesight in various types of weather, you might have shed a tear or two at the brightness. You wondered if the other competitors could do the same.

There were people on all sides of you. It was overwhelming. Normally you could scout your area, eliminate threats before taking your place to shoot. Here the threats were like your own personal wall, a couple hundred of them surrounding you, anyone willing to strike at any moment.

But above them all were the only two you were seriously concerned about. Cersei, and her son, King Jeoffry of the Seven Kingdoms.

You introduced yourself and gave a small bow. This was the first time meeting the king after all. Both looked less than amused.

“You’re the best archer in the seven kingdoms?” The boy-king laughed. “Is this a joke? I have squires bigger and more impressive than you. You’re a...woman.”

If the king was trying to mock you, he was going to have to try a lot harder than that. What he had said hundreds of men had said before. “My skill doesn’t depend upon physical stature. Only a steady arm and a sharp eye. I’d like to compete and give a presentation of my skill if it pleases the king.” You responded with all the airs of a highborn. Highborn. You were no lower than them. If anything, you were above them where morality was concerned.

“I hope your skill is more impressive than the sight of you. My uncle speaks of you very highly, and I don’t like being disappointed.”

Imagine how the rest of us felt when you became king.

“Your uncle hates being wrong as much as you don’t like being disappointed, your grace. I don’t think he would have encouraged me to enter this most esteemed competition should he think you may be disappointed or should put his intelligent reputation at risk.” You teased, not above mocking your friend in public.

He sighed and rolled his eyes, but knew he should choose his words carefully around the king. “You won’t be disappointed. I’m clearly not keeping her around because she’s good company.”

“She’ll put on a good show.” Cersei smirked.

It will be quite a show when you’re removed from power.

“We’ll see.” You took that as your cue to leave, knowing that was about as much as you could take from the Lannisters.

But when you turned around, you were finally met with the other competitors. They all looked intimidating, but you didn’t feel intimidated. You would only feel that once you saw their skill. You had learned a long time ago that many men liked to look tough without actually being so, and in the skill of archery, no amount of muscle or fancy armor would help you win a competition.

You estimated about 25 yards between you and the target as you stood before it. You had it targets from farther away, but whether or not you could hit the center of a target was another matter completely. You couldn’t remember the last time you had shot arrows for a tournament. Your arrows were meant for damned people, not for sport. But you could use more money, you needed money to survive.

At least that was how you were going to justify all this to yourself.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the sun catch something shiny and gold. You turned your head to find Ellaria in a peach-colored dress with gold embellishments, and Oberyn in a burnt sienna cloak with the very same embellishments. Both pairs of eyes had settled on you, sparkling with excitement. Oberyn gave you a small nod of encouragement. Show them what you have, brave girl.

“The rules are simple.” The squire began, bringing you and the other competitors to attention. “Whoever does not hit the center of the target is eliminated. After each round, the contestants will move back more and more until one person is standing. Competitors, draw your bows.”

Everyone did as commanded. You took a deep breath.

“Shoot.”

You let the arrow fly without a single thought.

It pierced the center of the target effortlessly. The tall, brutish man next to you did the exact same thing. You saw a few others had as well, and a few who had missed by just a sliver. The man glared at you, but you held your gaze.

You’re the competition here. Most of these people probably know who you are and want nothing more than to beat the legendary Silver Hawk. Do not let some man with more muscles than brains take your place.

“Walk 15 paces back.” The page instructed. You all did as you were told. When the page was sure everyone was in an even line, he signaled to draw your bow again.

“Shoot.”

Your arrow pierced the middle of the target once again, just a hair away from your last arrow. You were making this look easy. No one left this round. The obvious amateurs were gone within the first round. The real competition began now.

It was the same thing over and over again, and honestly? You were getting a little bored. Shoot. Walk back 15 paces. Shoot. Walk back 15 more paces.

Until it wasn’t that anymore.

You were at the edge of the arena. You didn’t even notice that it was only the brute and you. He had hit every single arrow in the middle of the target just as you had. You could tell his bow was handcrafted, and his arrows were from the smoothest steel. He was as knowledgeable as you when it came to wielding a bow, a worthy competitor too, as much as you didn’t want to admit it.

The target was easily 75 yards or so away. You didn’t know if even you could hit that. This was certainly the farthest you had ever been. You would have never taken this shot if it were an animal or someone you needed to eliminate. Was this easy for your competitor? He didn’t look even a tad nervous, you hoped you didn’t either. You did look focused though, as you considered the distance, the wind, your own strength. Would your bow even shoot that far?

Guess you were about to find out.

“Archers, draw your bow.”

You did as you were told, and closed your eyes, just for a second. You felt the fletching brush against the tips of your fingers, your hand holding onto the leather grip firmly, the cool silver of your arrow brushing against your cheek for just a second, your feet planted into the earth. The world fell around you. All you knew was the arrow, and how to make it fly.

And it did.

Flew just inside the center of the target, just barely making a bullseye.

The man’s arrow was just outside.

“Yes!!!” Bronn jumped up and pumped a fist in the air. “That’s our girl!!”

“Did you have any doubt that she could do it?” Tyrion asked cheekily, secretly elated that his champion won the whole tournament, that his friend had her moment of glory.

“It seems I will find myself short of some money.” Oberyn chuckled. “Your Silver Hawk, Lord Tyrion...she is very special.” He said, smiling at you from afar.

Tyrion smiled too. “Yes, she is.”

You let yourself laugh as the sound of applause filled your ears. Even your opponent offered his hand.

“You’re a fine shot. I’m just glad the stories are true. I didn’t want to leave here disappointed.” The man winked at you before taking his leave. You were about to take your leave as well when a voice called out over the cheer of the crowd.

“Wait!”

Your head whipped around. For a moment you forgot the golden-haired king entirely. He studied you with a vicious glare in his eyes that made you uneasy. You tried not to show it, but it was no use.

“Bring out the prisoner from yesterday.” The king commanded.

After a moment, the guard brought out a prisoner in chains. He was a big man, balding and bearded. He looked scared out of his wits and you were more nervous for him than you were for yourself.

“Chain him to a post.”

The guards did as they were told and chained the prisoner to one of the posts holding up the arena. The scared and nervous expression that matched his let him know you were not in on whatever this was.

“Place an apple on his head.”

Fuck.

A target was one thing, but a man’s life now rested in your hands. If you missed, it was his life in the line. The pressure was more intense now. The tournament was to uphold your reputation, it was all you had. But this was something much more frightening. To take the life of terrible people who hurt other people was one thing, to take the life of an innocent person was another, and even more so, to do it by accident.

“Shoot the apple.”

You once again scouted the distance. It was far, but you wouldn’t hurt this man. You would aim high, you’d rather miss far over his head than to pierce it. You gave a small nod to the man. I won’t hurt you, I promise.

You set your target. You aimed a bit higher than the center, not wanting the arrow to be any closer to his head than it needed to be.

1...2...

The juices of the apple ran down the man’s temple and dripped from his chin. The man looked like he could have passed out from relief, or maybe because he didn’t breathe that entire time.

“Oh sweet gods above, thank you! Thank you milady, don’t know ‘ow to repay you”

You smiled kindly at him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “No need to thank or pay me. I don’t harm people without actual cause, and you’ve done me no offense.”

“Now shoot him.”

Your heart stopped in your chest. Your eyes grew wide, looking. To the other to make sure you heard that right, but his fear matched yours.

Even Tyrion looked to his nephew in horror. “Perhaps, nephew, you forget that this is a tournament and not an execution. This is not what she signed up for, this is not what we agreed on.”

“I don’t need to comply with your deal or her conditions. I am king, and you would do best to remember that, uncle, before you are the one tied to the post.” Jeoffey spat.

You tried to clear your head. How could you possibly get out of this? “If I am to shoot him, I would like to know the nature of his crimes.” You demanded.

“He stole wine and has been rotting in a cell. He takes up space there. I want him disposed of.”

All of this for some wine? “Surely your grace can find some other use for him? There is much to be done around the palace with your wedding approaching so soon, is there not? Perhaps he could serve as staff around the castle or-“

“Look at him!” He spat. “He’s fat, pathetic, and lazy. He’s no use to me. Shoot him or die, those are your options.”

Oberyn stood before the queen regent, his fist balled. “Convince your son to forget this. The Silver Hawk has done her part, she’s won the tournament. She kills for Tyrion, not Jeoffey, and even then she does not strike me as the type of person to just kill anyone. Everyone’s been entertained enough.”

Cersei just smiled something wicked. “I have no influence over my son. He is king, his word is the law. If the Silver Hawk is as good as she says, she’ll be able to do this, I doubt you have any cause for concern.” She smirked before sipping her wine.

Oberyn gritted his teeth and narrowed his eyes at the queen. “She will not forget this if you make her take this man’s life. She does not kill without reason, but the murder of this man would give her cause to take revenge in the future. Don’t put her through this, and don’t give her an excuse to send one of her arrows flying in yours or your son’s direction.”

Cersei laughed. “You think she would be so stupid? She won’t do anything, not if she values her life.” Cersei leaned towards the Dornishman like she was letting him in on a secret. “The Hawk needs to learn when she is beat, when her arrows can’t save her. This will just teach her. This is good for everyone.”

“Good for everyone? Or good for your pride?”

They didn’t call him the Red Viper for nothing. His tongue was as quick as a snake's bite.

Cersei narrowed her eyes. “Step down Prince Oberyn. You and the Hawk aren’t winning this one.”

Oberyn and Tyrion shared a look of dread before returning their attention to you.

Your mind reeled. Think, think, think. What would Tyrion say or do to get out of this?

Shoot him or die, those are your options.

You took your position and tried not to look at the man for too long. He was trembling, crying, trying to break free and you couldn’t take it. You let your arrow fly.

The man let out a wail as the arrow pierced his leg. But before Jeoffery could protest, you intervened. “You asked me to shoot him my lord, so I did. You wish to dispose of him. Perhaps, Prince Oberyn, you will accept this man as a gift from Kings Landing, welcoming you to our city, and being a most gracious and humble guest. Do with him as you please since he is not fit to stay here.”

Oberyn chuckled and gave a dazzling smile. Now how did she come to think of that?

“Of course. Dorne welcomes all people. You would be most welcome in my family’s city. I could use a court jester. Once I have him trained you may visit him in Dorne, King Jeoffery.” Jeoffery seemed to quite like the thought of that. But you knew better. The same Oberyn who spoke of equality among people, the man who spoke of love and compassion would not make a joke of a poor, innocent man. And Jeoffery would be too consumed with power to think about taking a nice little trip to Dorne. “He may return with Ellaria and I when we depart.” Oberyn nodded.

You knew it was dangerous to say anything right now, you were already dancing with death as it was. But your eyes met the Prince’s, and at once he understood your level of gratitude.

“Take him to Prince Oberyn’s quarters. Chain him up there. Let the Dornish deal with this filth.” Jeoffery scoffed.

Cersei looked as if she could order to have you killed right that instant.

“Why don’t we enjoy some wine of our own to celebrate my champion’s victory? All this excitement is leaving me parched.” Tyrion suggested before his sister could do something brash.

And just like that, the festivities came to an end. As soon as you were out of sight, you stealthily followed the guards to the Lannister brothel. Firstly to escape any harm, secondly, to find the man you had just shot. You entered the brothel through the window, only to be met with the shocked face of a young girl.

“Where’s the man with an arrow in his leg?” You asked one of the girls frantically but in hushed tones. You didn’t need the guards or other Lannisters knowing you were here.

“H-He’s up the stairs in the back rooms on the left. He’s in a bad way.” The girl croaked out.

Sometimes you forgot how intimidating you could be.

“Do you have alcohol? I have to tend to him. I need alcohol and some cloth.” You tried asking in a much softer, calmer voice.

The girl nodded and scurried off. You made your way up the stairs and found the farthest back room on the left. You found the man withering in pain on the bed.

“You need to try and control your breathing. I’m not going to be able to help you if you’re all panicked. I know it’s hard, but you have to trust me.”

The man nodded and tried to hold back the tears in his eyes. You took deep breaths, and he tried breathing with you. “You saved my life...damned my leg but saved my life. Went through an awful lot of trouble. I’m surprised Cersei didn’t kill you right there.”

You knelt next to the man to observe his wounds. “Cersei doesn’t scare me.” You said confidently. “Just because she has power doesn’t make her a true ruler, nor her son, or any of the Lannisters. They only have power if they think we fear them.”

“Most do fear them though. And if they ‘ave the power they can ‘urt us, they ‘ave ‘urt us. Nearly killed me over some wine.” He huffed.

“If more people stood against them they wouldn’t have so much power.” They would have their status, they would have their wealth, but if the people started revolting, the people would stand a chance. Sadly, you knew the Lannisters already evoked too much fear into the hearts of the people they’re supposed to be protecting for anything to happen, at least not now. “I understand...not wanting to stand against them. I’m under the protection of Tyrion so I have more freedoms. I’m just glad King Jeoffery reacted well to the decision not to kill you.”

“'Aye, that makes two of us.”

You turned your head at the sound of a door opening. You were expecting the young girl from before only for your eyes to meet Ellaria’s dark ones. She came in with the cloth and a bag of assorted ointments which she promptly dumped on the bed before unchaining the man.

“How are you?” She asked the man frantically, her mind only focused on helping him.

“Well, other than an arrow bein’ in me leg I’m just great.” He quipped.

“He’s calmed down a lot. We should be ready.”

Ellaria nodded her head, knowing what you meant.

“Ready for-“

Before he could finish, you quickly removed the arrow from his leg. He howled in pain, but Ellaria was working fast. She made quick work of using the ointments and tying his leg tight with the cloth to stop the blood flow.

The man was sobbing and gripping your arm like his life depended on it. It hurt, but you bit back your pain. Didn’t seem right to complain when the man just had an arrow ripped out of his leg.

Oberyn entered and knelt next to you, offering the man a cup. “Drink this. It will help with the pain and help you sleep. It’s a sedative of sorts.”

The man quickly downed the tea, willing to do anything to get rid of the ridiculous amount of pain. He handed the cup to you and laid his head back against the pillow. “Thank you, all of you. I owe you all my life.”

“Just get some rest. Your body has gone through a lot today and you’ll need sleep to recover your strength.” You chided, standing up to leave. Oberyn and Ellaria followed to leave the man in peace.

“Thank you for helping him, both of you. He is alive because of your kindness.” You thanked. You couldn’t help but be a bit surprised. Most royalty would not have cared about the life of one poor commoner, but neither of them wasted any time in helping him. The more you learned about the two of them the more questions you asked. Why were they so different from the highborn you’ve met? You shouldn’t like them as much as you do. Highborn were supposed to be snobbish, egotistical, and rude, they were supposed to be like the Lannisters.

But they weren’t.

“It is you he should thank. If you wouldn’t have tricked the king like that, you would have had no choice but to kill him to save yourself.” Ellaria reasoned.

But you were having none of it. “I still shot him with an arrow. He would still be in pain were it not for the ointments and tea. And you,” you began, turning towards Oberyn, “were you serious about bringing him to Dorne?”

Oberyn smiled and nodded. “Yes, though I am in no need of a jester, my family keeps me entertained enough.” He laughed. “But I will take him to Dorne. From there he can do as he pleases. If he does not wish to stay in Dorne I will find him passage somewhere else. Every innocent man should be free. Stealing some wine does not warrant death, nor imprisonment when they have enough Dornish wine to fill the Shivering Sea.”

“Thank you.” You smiled kindly, placing a hand on his arm. You both locked eyes for a moment and your heart skipped a beat.

What the fuck is this?

Why were your cheeks getting hot? Why did your whole body feel warm and light?

“Ahem.” Ellaria intervened, smirking all the while. You broke your gaze and returned your attention to Ellaria. “I am not as generous as my lover. I demand payment for my services. I spent good money on those ointments.”

You were surprised by Ellaria’s sudden shift in behavior. She had all the riches in the world and she wanted payment? “I earned my money and you have-“

“A dance.” She interrupted before you could rattle off your other five reasons why she wasn’t getting your money. “A dance at the boy Lannister’s wedding. One with each of us.”

Of course that’s what she wanted.

You wanted to say no, you almost did. But Ellaria had spared her ointments and Oberyn put himself in harm's way just by siding with you when you tricked Jeoffery. Sure, Jeoffery had been amused with the idea of the man as a jester for the Dornish, but Oberyn didn’t know the king would go along with it. And they both of them were certainly not going to be in the good graces of Cersei now.

Not that they were to begin with, but this certainly didn’t help matters.

“I don’t know if you even want to make that request, Ellaria. I’m not a dancer-“

“We will teach you.” Oberyn interrupted before you could protest more, clearly excited by his lover’s suggestion. “I am familiar with certain dances, but Ellaria is the best dancer in Dorne. She can teach anyone to dance.” He purred, pulling her closer to his side before they gazed at each other lovingly.

It was disgustingly cute.

Ellaria playfully hit his chest. “He praises me too much, but I will teach you. You are light on your feet, no? You will not be as bad as you think.”

You sighed, knowing you were going to regret this. “Seems I cannot refuse.” You gave them both a soft smile. “I owe you both, and seeing as I am employed by a Lannister, I can’t very well avoid paying my debt. I would be honored to share a dance with both of you.”

“Good.” Ellaria smiled cheekily. “And since it was my idea, I get first dance.” She teased her lover, in which he grabbed her waist forcefully and pulled her close to him, pecking her lips, but sparing you any more public displays of affection.

Secretly, you didn’t mind. They were actually quite cute when you didn’t have to scold them for trying to make you so flustered.

“I suppose I can live with that considering I will have the pleasure of dancing with the two most beautiful women in the capital.”

You smiled softly and blushed.

Then you quickly remembered yourself.

You cleared your throat. “Anyways, I need to return to The Red Keep. I’m sure Tyrion is waiting to scold me about infuriating his sister again. I better get it all over with now.” It was a lame and rather pathetic excuse, but if you didn’t leave soon you were afraid they would make some remark on the sudden flustered state you now found yourself in.

“We will see you in a few days then. Stay guarded, Silver Hawk. Our actions did not please Cersei, she was rather determined to see you kill that man today and she did not get what she wanted. Find us should anything happen.” Oberyn instructed, his sultry voice turning into something much more serious.

Ellaria’s eyes met yours. She was worried, genuinely worried. Every part of you wanted to somehow console her, to assure both of them that you would be okay. But you felt the beating of your heart pick up the pace. Tyrion, Shae, Bronn, they all worried about you, but it was always lighthearted, worry hid under a joke or a tease. But the Dornish knew no such thing, they felt everything, wore everything on their sleeve, and damned all who had anything to say about it. It was a different kind of bravery. It wasn’t charging head-first into battle, but it was more than you could ever muster, more than you’ve ever known or allowed yourself to feel. And it scared you. Because one person caring for you like this was intimidating, two people were terrifying.

“I will not hesitate to seek you both out should anything happen.” You promised. They had earned your trust, despite every bone in your body that still rebelled against them. They risked their alliance with the Lannisters and went out of their way to help a man they didn’t know, a man they didn’t have to save. There was something to be said in that.

You exited the brothel and returned to the palace. You stocked your arrows and checked your armor. The wedding would only be days away. What would become of the Dornish? Would they ever return? Could you ever go to them?

And why were you thinking of these things? It didn’t matter where they would go. They would do as they pleased and you would go where Tyrion led. Tyrion, Shae, Bronn, they were home. But when you slept that night, your mind was filled with flashes of warm oranges, golds, yellows, bronzed skin, sharp features, dark hair, and eyes that could switch between sharp and kind in an instant.

But you didn’t see red.

Not yet.

————————

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

—————————

Tag List (if I’m missing someone or if you would like to be added please let me know!): @ilikechocolatemilkh @rpcvliz @janelongxox @evyiione @grogusmum

#armor #oberyn x you #oberyn x you x ellaria #oberyn x reader x ellaria #oberyn martell #prince oberyn #game of thrones #game of thrones fic #got #oberyn martell imagine

78 notes · View notes

bothcreativitybois · 3 years

Text

TMST Chapter 10

(Sorry everyone who got the notif for the first time I posted it, it was on the wrong account) This chapter is dedicated to the person who has beeing going through and liking (and I assume reading) all the chapters today. The Valentines Day class was meant to be one chapter but it ended up being too long so I split it into two, not including after the class ;] Ao3 link Wordcount: 2299 Ship: Intruality TWs: Swearing, sexual refrences, food Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 Taglist (ask to be added): @crazydemigod666 @star-crossed-shipper @newtnotfound @3amthebitchinghour @idont-freaking-know @someoneiwasnt @crownofrats @the-sympathetic-villain @cute-and-angsty-princess @lonelymuffin @bloodyjay-0666 @im-an-anxious-wreck @fantasticallytired @obsessive-fallen-angel

"I swear if you wear that same green flannel you've been wearing for two years I'll cover your car seats with bacon grease and let Cain go at ‘em." Roman commented as they leaned against the doorway of their twin's bedroom. "But it's lucky!" Remus protested as he looked at the shirt in his hand. Roman rolled their eyes. Remus clung to that shirt more than just physically, he'd won the election in that shirt. It was the shirt he wore when he became mayor. He'd worn it nearly every day since. Roman rushed forward and snatched the shirt. Remus tried to grab it but Roman dodged him and jumped on the bed, holding the shirt above their head. "No!" Roman mock scolded. "Give me my fuckin' shirt!" Remus shouted, pulling Roman off the bed. Janus watched the two bicker and fight like they were kids again, but with more swearing. "Remus, you're my brother and I love you, but I will rip this shirt to shreds before I let you wear it tonight. I mean, when was the last time you even washed it?" Roman lectured as they were pinned by Remus. "It's lucky!" Remus shouted. Roman thrashed their body sideways and knocked off their twin. "It's filthy!" Roman spat as they bolted across the room to Janus. "This is for your own good!" Roman quickly tied the shirt around Janus' waist with a double knot. Janus' eyes went wide as he looked down at the shirt then back up at Remus who had now set his sights on him. Janus was the fastest of the group, he sprinted down the hall with ease and locked himself in the bathroom. Roman and Remus watched from the bedroom. Remus wasn't gonna waste his energy when he knew he wouldn't catch Janus. He looked over at Roman. "That was a dirty move." Remus narrowed his eyes as he spoke. Roman smiled. "That was a dirty shirt." Roman clapped their hands and reached into their handbag. "You're gonna wear this and a nice pair of clean jeans." Roman pulled out a deep green silk shirt with a black heart embroidered on the breast pocket. Remus took the shirt in one hand and looked over it with hesitation. "You know this isn't what-" Remus began but Roman cut him off by grabbing his hands. "Trust me." Roman pleaded. Remus sighed and his body slacked. "Fine…" Remus got changed, he left the shirt open enough that his chest hair poked out. When he was done he sat in front of the bed so Roman could braid his hair. Remus was never good at braids, the first time he attempted was their first day of high school and he tried to follow a guide online but just ended up with a giant knot. He went to Roman to show the new hairstyle. But Roman forced him down and brushed out the knot, saying they knew what was best for him. Remus never bothered learning after that, if he needed his hair done he just asked Roman. “It’s not a date…” Remus attempted to reassure himself. “Right?” “Nah. Just two dudes getting dressed up, hanging out and doing a romantic baking class for two on Valentine's Day.” Roman mocked. They don’t need to give advice when Remus is like this, just an outside view, and a few well placed insults. Remus sighed. “I clearly tried to ask him on a date!” Remus laminated and cracked his knuckles. A nervous habit he’d picked up as a teenager. “You said four full words and none of them were ‘date’.” Roman reminded him as he pushed Remus’ hands back down so he couldn’t crack his knuckles. Admittedly not one of Remus’ smoothest lines. “He’s just so… soft. Y’know? What if I’m too much for him?” Roman just nodded. Those two were thirstier than herding dogs after a sheep drive, there was no debate on whether they actually had the hots for each other. “But everytime I’m around him I feel this high I haven’t felt before. I don’t know what to do about it, and I surely don’t wanna make him uncomfortable. I just want to...” Remus wasn’t sure how to finish that. He didn’t know what he could do about this feeling. “You want to..?” Roman prompted. Remus looked down at his lap. Roman had done this before, they’d been in a fair share of relationships. Maybe it was time to be honest? “I keep thinking about him.” Remus admitted. “At first it was just

fantasies, regular dirty stuff. But they became more… domestic. I just want to hold him, see him smile, pull him away from work when he’s tired but just to cuddle. I want to see him every day, kiss his head each night. Am I trying too hard to be someone he would like? I mean I’m not really doing it consciously but… I don’t know...” Remus tried to explain. Roman laughed speechlessly and turned Remus to face them. “You really do have it bad, huh?” Roman mused. Remus just nodded. Roman suddenly got serious. “That’s what happens when you want more than just a hook-up.” “We didn’t-” Remus started angrily then took a deep breath in and out. “I don’t even know where to start.” Roman turned him around again to finish the last bit of the tight french braid. “It is actually painful to watch you two.” Roman joked. Remus tried to turn but Roman pulled his head back. “Roman, I’m serious!” Remus begged. Roman tied off the braid with a hair tie and turned Remus again, both their faces serious. Roman looked hard into Remus’ eyes. It was a look he’d never quite seen. They could always read each other but not this. This was something new. Roman sighed. “Tell him.” Roman finally advised. Remus’ eyes went wide. “If you keep this in it’ll eat you apart and god knows what you’ll do. Just rip off the band-aid and tell him. Not like you’ve struggled with that before.” “He’s going through so much right now… would it be selfish of me to dump it on him?” Roman gave their brother an impressed look. Remus never thought things through like this, he just ran in head on. “He really has done a number on you.” Roman sighed and pat Remus on the shoulder. They pulled something from their handbag and tucked it in his breast pocket. “My lucky pen, nothing can go wrong now.” Remus looked down at the scratched and chewed back end of the pen sticking out of his pocket. “You fucking hypocrite.”

The bakery was more full than Remus, or anyone really, had ever seen it. The interior wasn’t done yet but they had made it as presentable as they could for the class. Roman split off from Remus to go find Logan while Remus searched for Patton. It was hard when every five seconds he was stopped by a couple who wanted to talk to him. “Mayor Remus! Lovely to see you!” One man greeted. “Hey Remus! Long time no see!” Another couple said. Remus kept conversations short, he was already late and needed to get to Patton. He eventually pushed and excused his way through the crowd. The moment Patton saw Remus’ arm he pulled it into the kitchen. “I said five.” Patton reminded him as he went back to work. Remus stared at Patton. “Nevermind just come help me set out these mixing bowls, thankfully Logan was kind enough to help me put out the tables and-” Patton realised Remus wasn’t talking. He looked up to see Remus staring at him with a slack jaw. Patton smiled slightly. Remus really couldn’t take his eyes off Patton, mostly off the tight ripped jeans that fit so perfectly. Or the adorable baby blue ruffled asymmetric top with cute pink hearts, teasing a glimpse of Patton’s shoulder. “You…” Remus tried. Why was this happening again? Why when he had walked in so confident? Why could only Patton, the one person who he wanted to talk to non-stop, make him so speechless? “Sexy.” The breath caught in Patton’s throat and his face got hot. “Not bad yourself.” Patton said quietly in reply. He could see just a glimpse of Remus’ perfect chest with how low the shirt was buttoned, really that was all that he needed. Remus cleared his throat in an attempt to fight the creeping blush. “Uh so, bowls?” After everything was set out and everyone was gathered and had on aprons, they stood and stared at the front where Remus and Patton were. Patton suddenly got nervous, so many people were looking at him. He’d been practicing what he’d say all week but now the words were stuck in his mind. Remus could feel Patton trembling next to him. Remus grabbed his hand from behind the counter. Neither of them looked down, they were scared that if they did it would somehow break the spell. Patton smiled to himself and took a deep breath, Remus didn’t realise how strong Patton’s grip could be. “Hello everyone!” Patton said, letting go of Remus’ hand. Remus nearly reached up to grab it again but stopped himself. “Happy Valentine's Day and welcome to our lovey dovey date night baking class! You may already know my assistant, Mayor Remus.” Remus waved at the group. Patton’s voice was happy but still stiff and nervous. He couldn’t quite loosen up. “Today we’ll be making two simple recipes that you can make again at home. The first is a lovely red velvet cake for two, then after that we will try to make some adorable little heart shaped pie pockets on a stick where you get to write cute little messages to your partner.” Remus lit up. “Wait… we can write anything?” The crowd watching laughed. Patton looked up at Remus with a professional presenter smile, the kind he’d only seen on game show hosts. It didn’t suit Patton as well as his usual smile. “Anything that fits on the label.” Patton said. He got out a mixing bowl and began making the batter for the first dish with the set out ingredients. He narrated each step with Remus jumping in with a joke every second sentence or so. Remus watched as Patton relaxed into the baking, his fake smile became the sweet grin he always wore and his voice slipped back into its regular tone. This was the Patton he came to see. “Now I’ll come around and check everyone's batter, when I give you the all clear Remus will give you your ramekins.” Patton announced when they finished mixing the ingredients. “Ah yes… ramekins… I know what those are…” Remus looked around lost, the crowd laughed again. Patton picked up a large container of small ceramic dishes and handed it to Remus, he took out a pair and held them up. “Oh! Tiny bowls!” Patton took the ramekins he held up. “They’re all different colours, make sure to remember your colour.”

Patton said and put the ramekins back into the container. Patton went around to each couple and tested their batter. He mixed it a little, stuck his finger in and let it drip, then tasted it. He would add a little more of this or that then declare them ready. Eventually they got to the back where Roman and Logan were. Remus loomed closer to Patton protectively. “Logan…” Remus muttered. Logan nodded in response. Roman and Patton looked between the two, the tension was denser than the batter. “You two are doing great up there!” Roman said cheerily in an attempt to distract them. “And looking great may I add.” Roman winked. Remus knew that smile, that was Roman’s 'my plan worked' look. “Thanks to you.” Patton said as he grabbed their bowl to inspect the batter. “Yes, you two have quite an interesting dynamic with your striking differences. I admit it is entertaining to watch. It’s like watching snow fall around a campfire.” Logan added. The words ‘striking differences’ got stuck in Patton’s mind. “You need to mix it harder.” Patton said, trying to push the looming dread away. Was he the snow or the campfire? Neither sounded like a good choice. He tilted the bowl so Logan and Roman could see. “See these little flecks, that’s the butter.” Patton gave the batter a good stir and showed them again, the butter fully mixed. “How’d you do that so quick?” Roman asked in amazement. Remus shifted the tub of ramekins onto his hip so he could grab one of Patton's arms and lifted it. “He’s got good brawn for a shortstack.” Remus said, squeezing Patton’s arm. The twins laughed. Patton blushed. Remus poked Patton’s stomach. “I’d love’ta see what he has under there too.” Patton flinched away as the twins laughed again. He blushed but also felt uneasy. Before with Remus he could just assume he was joking, but now he knew Remus had feelings for him. He shouldn’t know, he should’ve respected Remus’ privacy and not listened into his conversation. But now he had heard it he couldn’t unhear it. He couldn’t help but hear an extra layer to everything Remus said, he didn’t know what to do. He was still deciding what to do about his feelings for Remus, he didn’t want to flirt back and lead him on when he hadn’t made a choice yet. “The batter’s good now.” Patton said dryly as he took out the ramekins and placed them on the counter. Roman and Remus shared a confused look as Patton trodded back to the front of the class. “Alright, split the batter evenly between the two ramekins. It should fill them both a little more than halfway.” There it was again, that fake smile.

#the mayor's sweet treat #intruality #intruality au #remus sanders #ts remus #patton sanders #ts patton #roman sanders #ts roman #logan sanders #ts logan #roman took over #sanders sides fic #sanders sides fan fiction #sanders sides small town au #food tw #tw food

16 notes · View notes

gryphonablaze · 3 years

Text

heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeey who wants a one shot fic that I wrote for daughter of the lilies by the awesome meg syv, aka bludragongal who I’m not gonna actually tag here bc I’ve tagged her in half a billion posts already ,,

the fic is titled ‘saving face’ because I love me some puns

‘Eugh, snow… I hate it, I hate it I hate it I hate being cold…’ Lyra was sitting as close to the fire Thistle had started as she could without being burned.

‘Hey, are snowstorms a thing? Like magic storms, but snow?’ Thistle asked. Everyone was quiet for a while.

‘Don’t know. Probably, but hope not. Anyway, cave is goot place to trap heat. Glad ve found. Also glad Thistle can make voodless fire. But vhy only now bring up?’

‘Beceause most places we camp chalk won’t stay on the ground, so it wouldn’t work anyway. It’s complicated, too. I don’t remember half the runes. And you can’t write ‘em down without setting the paper on fire.’

‘Then… how did you get it to work?’ Brent asked.

‘Muscle memory. I couldn’t teach someone how to do it, but I could draw it out with my eyes closed if I needed to. When I was a kid, every fireplace in the house used these. The kitchen, too.’

‘You vere raised by mage? Is that vhy you not go to magic school?’

… Oops.

‘Er… yeah.’

‘Hrm. Explains vhy you so goot.’

‘Ooooooh, backstory!!!!’ Lyra teased. ‘You’ve said your dad didn’t like animals, and apparently he’s a mage. What else do we know? I need to start taking notes.’

‘Hey, cut it out.’ Brent ‘gently’ punched her in the shoulder. Didn’t seem like he meant it, though.

There was a noise like the clattering of a rock.

The fire went out.

Something whistled in the air. Thistle leaped to her feet at the same time that everyone else dropped like flies.

‘What the--’

Behind her were five cave elves.

Her teammates were unconscious, and there was some sort of antimagic that put out the fire… and rendered her defenseless.

Claws cut through the air. The cave elves expressed confusion when she dodged the blow. Thistle went for Brent’s discarded sword.

They clearly hadn’t been expecting for her to be able to see in the dark.

They seemed to get over that surprise quickly.

One of them said something, and the others backed away. Did he want a one-on-one fight?

Apparently.

Despite not knowing how to use it, Thistle was at an advantage with a weapon. Even so, she was still on the defensive. She dodged more than a few attempts at disarming her.

Did cave elves have some sort of honor-duel system? Was that a thing? Would they be left alone if she won this fight? Was it to the death? Not like she could ask, between the language barrier and being preoccupied with combat.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw one of the other four standing over Lyra, a fist raised, ready to concuss her.

Oh, so this was a distraction.

She flipped like a switch.

‘rrrrRRRRAAAAAAAGGHH!!!!!’ Thistle took a powerful, haphazard swing at the dueling elf. His surprise earned him a shallow slash on his leg.

You don’t get killed by being careful, she heard Gwen scold her. You get killed by being reckless.

Yeah, well, she had no magic and was outnumbered five to one. No amount of careful could save someone from that. Might as well do something.

With another roar she rushed at the other one, who immediately jumped back so as to avoid being skewered.

A phwt! through the air and something stung her in the neck. She picked it out. It was a dart. Paralytic poison, by the feel of it. Would put someone out of commission just long enough to knock them unconscious. Good thing it wouldn’t affect her.

Thistle chased another elf away from Brent and turned toward two that had just now stopped arguing over how to handle Orrig. She stepped forward. Something swept her feet out from under her.

‘GAH!’

In an effort not to land on the blade, she tossed it aside with both hands. Which meant she could not catch her fall. Thistle hit the ground face-first. She tasted blood.

It was hard to get any air without inhaling blood. But Thistle was saved from the effort of trying. She choked as one of the cave elves pulled her up from the ground by her hood.

And then dropped her. She landed hard on her knees, and fell into a coughing fit trying to catch her breath. She barely heard the cave elves panicking amongst themselves and running away.

~~POV switch~~

The fire went out.

He couldn’t move.

‘What the--’

Foreign chatter, the swing of steel, the sounds of struggle. Something was here, and Thistle was fighting it, alone, not using magic. If he had to guess, the talking sounded almost like the two cave elves that took a bite out of his arm a few months ago.

He heard Thistle let out a scream of pure fury. Damn. He’d seen her angry before, but he was very glad that this wasn’t directed at him.

He was starting to regain movement when he heard a yelp, followed immediately by a sickening crunch. Brent managed to remove the poison dart from his shoulder. Gods, this was like the cave elf job. Thistle was hurt, and he couldn’t do shit to help her. He could barely reach out an arm in futile desperation.

A gasp. Distressed conversation. Something had started wailing like a child. He heard footsteps running away. Just like the cave elf job…

As the assailants grew more distant, the fire relit itself and began to grow from a flame barely the size of a candle. Thistle noticed the light and pulled her hood up. There was just enough for Brent to see the outline of long, pointed ears and short fluffy hair. Ears like Lyra’s. So she was an elf? Huh.

No, right now was not the time for wondering what she was hiding. He could see blood on the ground and all down the front of her vest.

‘Are you guys alright?’

‘You’re asking us if we’re alright?’ Lyra’s words were slightly slurred. ‘You look like… I can’t even think of something witty. You’re covered in blood, and you’re asking if we’re alright?’

‘Yeah, well, poison is usually more dangerous than a nosebleed. If it isn’t wearing off by now, then it’s a different type than I thought, and that could make for some serious problems. But you’re talking, so that’s a good sign. Brent? Orrig?’

‘Vill be fine.’

‘Yeah, I’m okay.’

‘Good.’ Stiffly, Thistle got up and went over to her bag and dug out some gauze to hold against her face. ‘Now that the antimagic is gone,’ Her voice was nasally, ‘I’m gonna set some wards. I should’ve done that first thing.’ she started grumbling. ‘It even crossed my mind, but I chose not to, I almost got us all kidnapped or killed…’

‘Did you know there vere things in cave?’ Orrig asked sternly.

‘Well… no, but I still--’

‘Then is not your fault.’

#daughter of the lilies #fanfic #one shot #poor thistle being badass and having to save everybody #remember that meme I reblogged a while ago #the button dillemma template torn between 'want to see fave char badass and competent' vs 'want to see fave char broken down needing care'#well hehehe #you best believe I'm smashing both buttons so much rn #dotl

17 notes · View notes

voreconnoisseur · 4 years

Note

Ok but I need more Obey me vore- could you do some protective/possessive vore with the brothers? (And if you want the undate-ables to)

Yeeeeah babey this ones protective AND possessive! But for some of these asks I’m gonna be doing one bro per ask, with a long post, so hope you enjoy Mammon!

Getting in Trouble - High Stakes!

“Alright, listen up, human, ‘cause I’m only gonna tell you this once. If you’re gonna come with me, you have to stay hidden.”

As soon as you’d found out about the underground casino, you knew Mammon had to know about it. It practically had his name written all over it. And ever since, you’d been begging him to take you with you. He’d refused, initially, saying that it was dangerous... until your ordered him to take you with him. And then, of course, he’d reluctantly agreed.

“If any of them see you, it’s gonna be a mess. They’ll be all over me trying to get their hands on ya. And let me tell you, it is a TOUGH crowd there.”

You nodded enthusiastically. The main reason you wanted to go was because you knew you’d see Mammon at his peak. He was good at this sort of thing, despite what one might think with his tendency to overspend. You wanted to see how he played when the stakes were high!

And oh boy, were stakes going to get high.

***

Mammon had headed straight for the blackjack table. Peering from the pocket of his jacket, you couldn’t quite see the cards he’d been dealt. You could only hear and feel his reactions as he played. And from the sound of it, things weren’t going so well for him.

“Stand,” you heard him say, hesitantly. You saw the dealer flip his cards over... he had 21.

“...Dealer wins.”

“Shit.”

Mammon heaved a sigh, knocking you over inside his pocket in the process.

“Guess I’m out. I don’t have anything else to bet.”

The dealer spoke again, and the words that came out of his mouth sent a chill down your spine.

“The human in your pocket. I’ll bet everything you lost tonight if you put the human on the line, too.”

You could feel Mammon freeze.

“Eh—what’d you say?”

“The human. In. Your pocket. Why’d you bring it if not as a bargaining chip?”

There was a worrying silence. Surely, he would never—

“Fine. I’ll do it.”

Of course. Of course he’d try to get his money back at any cost. Of course Mammon would do that. You could imagine the *ka-ching* in his eyes.

You squirmed against Mammon’s hand as he grabbed you roughly and pulled you out from your hiding place, setting you down on the blackjack table.

“Mammon, why—“

Mammon put a giant finger to your lips—then brought it to his own; the symbol for quiet. You suddenly remembered your pact with him. You could stop him at any point and he knew it. Perhaps he had something planned...

You sat on the table, hungry gazes of the dealer and a few other demons watching burning into you. Your heart pounded—if something did happen, could Mammon protect you?

Now, with the full table in view, you could watch everything that happened. Mammon had a determined look on his face—a confident one.

The intensity just kept building as they played. A push. ANOTHER push. And now, with low value cards, Mammon was taking hits again and again.

You looked up at Mammon, whose eyes had previously been on his cards. Now he was focused directly at you. You could see sweat beginning to bead on his face, and yours probably didn’t look too different. But for just a split second, Mammon winked at you.

You’d come up with a secret sign a while ago at the House of Lamentation. It meant “cause a distraction.” Usually to prevent the other brothers from noticing something that would otherwise cause... problems. Right now, he was trying to tell you to do the same here.

“Hit me.”

As soon as the dealer started to flip the next card, you began to kick up a fuss. You screamed, cried, hyperventilated—and it worked. A few other demons came over to investigate. Even the dealer’s eyes left the cards for a second.

“Shut up down there,” he said, glaring over at you.

And that’s when Mammon swapped the new card for one he’d hidden in his sleeve.

To your surprise and relief, (and unlike many of Mammon’s plans) it worked. He’d swapped the card with a card that would give him exactly 21, and he’d done so before the dealer had even had a good look at it.

The dealer was forced to take another card and ended up busting. Mammon grinned, sliding all of the stacks of Grimm back into his bag, and snatching you from the table.

“Welp, better luck next time! Thanks for the refund~”

As he headed toward the exit, you scolded him.

“Mammon! That was really risky! I could’ve been that guy’s lunch! And what if he saw you cheat??”

“Aww, relax, Y/N. I would’ve just grabbed you and ran if it came to it. But then I wouldn’t be allowed back. Besides, the guy was TOTALLY cheatin’ even worse than me. He had the deck stacked. Or something like that.”

“...”

“...Come on. Like I would ever let MY human get taken by this random asshole.”

“Okay. I forgive you. But can we get out of here?”

“I’m already on it.”

You could see from your spot that Mammon was heading to the door, but. Uh oh.

“Don’t look now, but that guy doesn’t look happy with you.”

A demon who looked like some kind of bouncer, or bodyguard, or... henchman was blocking Mammon from leaving. His arms were crossed, showing off his rather beefy biceps. You could hear, additionally, someone approaching Mammon from behind. He turned to look and you saw him: the dealer from before.

“Hand over the human, cheater.”

Mammon froze, and you could feel him gulp.

“Wh-what are ya talkin about? I won completely fair and square!”

“Oh yeah? Then what’s this?”

The demon held up a card.

“Found it under your chair. You should’ve lost that round, but you got rid of it, didn’t you? Now. Hand it over, and I’ll even let you keep the rest of your shit. Otherwise...”

He slowly slid his index finger across his throat.

With a lightning fast motion, Mammon turned away, snatched you from his pocket, slid you INTO HIS MOUTH—

And turned back. He spoke, and his somewhat muffled works vibrates around you as you sat in the pocket of his cheek, saliva pooling around you.

“About thaft—shorry, but tat human wash my lunch today, sho no can do!”

You squirmed, kicking Mammon in the teeth, and instinctively he put his hand to his face, pressing against you in your fleshy pocket.

“Yeah right. It’s in your mouth. Spit it out.”

With an abrupt motion, you were sucked back out from Mammon’s cheek, and brought back into his tongue. It ran over you a few times, almost hesitantly, before you felt his head tilt back and...

He swallowed.

You were pulled downward, legs first, into Mammon’s throat, which then squeezed and squashed you downward. As soon as the pressure let up, you gasped, splashing downward, hearing Mammon sigh in relief along with you. Where you were now—his stomach, was glowing a faint gold in some spots, giving you a good look at your surroundings. It was roomier than one might think, rippled and moving and alive...

You snapped back to reality as you heard him speak again.

“Like I said, no can do! Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m outta here.”

“Yeah, no. Get him.”

Your world lurched as Mammon broke into a sprint. You weren’t too worried about his situation—Mammon’s true strength was his speed, so he’d be able to get the two himself out of this. You waited it out somewhat uncomfortably as you were tossed about (at least your surroundings were squishy) for what felt like hours but was probably more like a few minutes. Eventually, you stopped being tossed around and Mammon slowed to a jog, panting, before stopping.

“Phew. Think we lost ‘em.”

You could feel something poke you from the outside.

“Y/N? Ya doin’ alright in there?”

Now, to deal with the situation at hand.

“Mammon, why did you eat me?”

“Cause I sure as hell wasn’t gonna let those guys eat you! Listen, if anyone is gonna eat MY human, it’s gotta be me.”

The golden glow intensified around you. It must have something to do with his sin, you thought, based on how it glowed while he spoke.

“Mmhm. But if you were just going to run away anyway, you could’ve left me in your pocket, stupid.” You gave a playful kick to the spot you knew Mammon’s Hans was resting. You felt a rough jab in your general direction in response.

“Er, well—You know what? How about I just leave you there and digest you!? Yeah, that’ll show you. In fact, MAYBE that’s what I was gonna do all along!”

“Yeah, well, you keep forgetting I have a pact with you. So all I would have to do is tell you to spit me out.”

“Grr...”

“...but you know what? I’m pretty comfy. I think I don’t mind staying here for a little while while we get home.”

You could tell he was pleased, because the ripples of his stomach glowed warmly. You let yourself sink into the folds and sighed.

“Where are we, anyway? I can’t see anything in here...”

“That’s a great question.”

#shall we vore #soft vore #safe vore #protective vore #g/t vore #canon character #male pred #replies #anon #I have been dead for a while and working on this for months #but the asks WILL be answered

149 notes · View notes

obeiii-mee · 4 years

Note

Hi there! If its okay, could i ask for headcannons of the brothers finding out MC is an Artist? Something like, finding there sketchbook or napkins w doodles on them jfjdjs Or maybe they catch MC glancing at them alot while trying to draw them? hfjd Ty!! Your writing is really good~

Of course it’s OK! I’ve always liked the idea of MC having a really interesting hobby and teaching the brothers about it. I feel like all the brothers would be very supportive of them, even if they all had various reactions to their hobby but I really love writing wholesome moments like that. Sorry this took longer to come out, I made them really long to make up for it!

Also thank you. Your compliment means a lot :)

————————————-

The Brothers’ reactions to MC being an artist:

Lucifer:

-Well if you’re going to glance at him every two minutes, he’s bound to notice

-I mean, you’re pretty damn obvious

-Lucifer got pretty used to you whipping out your sketchbook whenever you could

-So for you to start doodling in his office while he worked wasn’t exactly unheard of

-He caught you staring at him before looking back down at your drawing, continuing your series of furious scribbles

-Now you piqued his interest

-“You seem very focused there love. What are you drawing?”

-Scared the crap out of you because he rarely ever talks when he’s working

-You were reluctant to show him but Lucifer has his insisting face on

-When you passed him the sketchbook, he momentarily froze

-Your drawing was so detailed and full of emotion, capturing him slumped over his desk, exhausted but determined to finish the work he’s been assigned

-He was so surprised and stunned, for a second, he forgot to breathe

-“It’s not exactly one of my best drawings yet but-“

-“You never fail to impress me MC.”

-He suspected you were drawing him but he wasn’t expecting this much effort to be put into it

-He would definitely keep all your drawings of him

-Loves all your work but secretly adores your sketches of him best

-Lucifer would occasionally look over your shoulder while you sketch, taking a peek at what you’re drawing and smile to himself

-He’s never felt this much pride for someone else before

Mammon:

-Was pissed you would rather spend time with an object rather than him

-It annoyed him at first because he couldn’t tell if you were listening to him or not while you had your nose stuck in your sketchbook

-Basically, he was jealous of a sketchbook

-You can’t do that Mammon, that’s Levi’s thing

-So one day he decided to see what the fuck was so great about that giant notebook you always have with you

-He turned your entire room upside down searching for the damn thing before finding it

-He flipped through it and I’m sure the entire House of Lamentation could hear his gasp

-You drew him for pages and pages in all sorts of positions and styles and he was a flustered tomato going through them

-You willingly drew him? The scum of a demon who could never do anything right unless it involved money? You put your time and effort into these sketches and doodles despite him being condescending and a dick at times?

-Excuse me but this man is already head over heels in love with you, you can’t keep giving him reasons to fall for you

-He was so engrossed into your work that he didn’t notice you behind him

-“Mammon why is there a mess in my room-“

-“HOLY SHI-AHHH!!!”

-Too embarrassed to even think of an excuse for going through your shit

-“Ah those...I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have drawn you without your permission Mammon-“

-“Are ya kiddin’ me? MC, I feel insulted that you didn’t tell me about this sooner. Can...Can I keep some of ‘em??”

-Now he insists that you draw him as often as possible and would even pose for you (he loves the attention let’s be real)

-He wants to see all of your drawings and will endlessly support you

-Thought about using your skill as a way to make money because art can be very expensive

-But in the end, he dropped the idea

-Why would he sell something so precious to him??

Levi:

-He probably has a sketchbook too

-You guys draw Ruri-chan together in your own styles

-Levi always insists that you’re much better at drawing than him tho

-Your talent makes him a little jealous but at the same time he’s fascinated

-Was so surprised when he found out you were into sketching

-Levi was even more surprised when you showed him all the drawings you’ve worked on for your favourite anime and video game characters

-OK but how come you’re so perfect? Not only are you a lovely person that is willing to watch anime with him without insulting his opinions but you can draw? W...h...a...t...?

-He requests several sketches of ‘The Tale of the Seven Lords’ characters and will actually tape them to his wall

-Some of them are right on his Ruri-chan shelf

-“Hey normie, do you...do you mind teaching me how to draw? I want to learn.”

-Is 100% determined to learn how to properly sketch from you

-You started drawing him as well, usually while he games

-You better stop, he’ll have a nosebleed if you keep being so nice to him!

-Draw him as an anime character and he will start fangirling

-“Phew. OK I’m finished.”

-“What did you draw?”

-“Hentai.”

-“This. Is. A. Masterpiece.”

-Will proudly show your work to his brothers (usually the same drawing more than five times)

-What did an otaku like him do to deserve you??

Satan:

-He found out you were an artist fairly quickly

-I meant he found tissues with doodles you left behind everywhere

-He kept all of them

-It was so refreshing for him to see you so invested in your drawings the same way he is in his reading

-You’re still under the impression you’re being sneaky by drawing him while he has his nose in his books

-You ended up finally gathering enough courage to show him one of your portraits of him

-He had a reaction similar to Lucifer’s really

-Praise!

-He made your drawing into a bookmark

-Idk how but he did

-You leave him a few doodles of you and him being all lovey dovey and he absolutely adores them

-Will lose his marbles if anyone says anything remotely negative about your style or talent

-Draw him fluffy animals pls he will literally have them framed and fixed up in his room

-Also if you draw any of his brothers (specifically Lucifer let’s be real) in a silly way he will actually start snorting with laughter

-You sketch him pretty damn often and he can’t really complain

-It’s really peaceful when you two are in the library and you’re working on your doodling while he reads aloud to you

-Buys you equipment like pens and pencils and even sketchbooks when he knows you’re running out

-He’s really delighted when you come over to show him your drawings

-Once he caught you staring at a cat as you started sketching it

-He actually didn’t think it was possible to love someone this much

Asmo:

-Noisy little fucker that he is and in need of drama, he looked through your sketchbook

-Thought it was a diary at first but nope

-Imagine his surprise when he found pages upon pages of drawings of his brothers and him

-Except his weren’t really a surprise

-He’s gorgeous of course you would want to draw him

-But oh my God, do you realise how much he values art??

-I know he looks as if he only thinks about sex but he definitely has a thing for creativity and art like painting and photography

-“MC darliiiing~? Why didn’t you tell me you can draw?”

-He actually shrieks at how well you’ve captured his beauty

-He insists that they look like actual pictures of him

-Takes several pictures of all of them and posts them on DevilGram

-A bit salty when you drawing anything else but him

-However, he can’t deny that you’re one of the most talented individuals he ever met

-He comes up to you every day and lractically begs you to draw him

-One time you came in your room to find him naked and asking you to draw him

-Is actually kinda good at drawing himself

-Specifically people

-He has enough experience exploring the human body so he surprisingly enough, knows a thing or two when it comes to body proportions

-“MC draw me like one of your french girls~”

-I’m sorry I had to do that

-He also likes the attention he’s getting when he poses for you

-He may think he’s the most beautiful being in all three realms but he definitely thinks you’re the second

-So he often offers to draw you too

-He likes having cozy chats with you while you draw

Beel:

-You left your sketchbook behind in the kitchen with him

-Mammon needed your assistance to get down from where Lucifer hanged him after one of his failed money schemes

-He knocked a glass of milk nearby it and had a panic attack for a minute

-Legitimately thought he ruined the whole thing

-Was actually about ready to cry because he knew how important your sketchbook was to you

-Looked through it just to make sure there were no splotches or anything

-To say he was relieved when he realised it was fine would be an understatement

-He was kinda drawn to your sketches, most of them carefully drawn and expressive, even some of the ones you scribbled out

-One specific drawing caught his eye though

-You drew him and Belphie together, with his twin brother’s head resting on his shoulder while Beel ate

-He was mesmerised by your talent and by your thoughtfulness

-Beel felt bad about it but he kept looking through your sketches, enchanted by everything in it

-You drew him and his brothers several times

-It’s safe to say the discovery of your drawings brightened his day

-Gave back your sketchbook later

-He apologised for going through it without your permission more than he needed to

-You had to accept his apology because he looked like a kicked puppy

-Feels very honoured whenever you let him look at your work

-Is more than happy to pose for you!

-But that might be a bit of a problem seeing as he tends to move around a lot

-“Whoa, that looks just like me! The food I’m eating looks really realistic too...which is making me hungry. Let’s go to Hell’s Kitchen, you can finish this there!”

-Supportive bean

-You gave him a family sketch of him and all of his brothers once

-Normally, he only likes gifts he can eat

-But he treasures that drawing more than food at times

-“This...this is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me! Thank you MC! But uh, someone’s missing in this drawing.”

-“Ah shit, who did I miss?”

-“You.”

-If anything ever happens to Beel or his happiness I swear to Lord Diavolo-

Belphie:

-OK but you left your notebook just sitting there right next to him???

-How do you expect him not to look through it?

-Belphie doesn’t care much for privacy

-And he doesn’t exactly have morals either

-He didn’t even know you were into drawing

-Which to be fair, wasn’t scandalous considering he sleeps 20 hours a day

-But he wants to be more involved in your interests so that’s why he took initiative with your sketchbook

-Idk what he was expecting but definitely not a sketch of him staring back at him

-His heart skipped a beat but I don’t even know if demons have hearts

-The cheeky little shit took pictures and may or may not have made on your drawings of him his wallpaper

-Most of the drawings were of him sleeping, surprising...absolutely no one

-“So that’s what you’re up to whenever I go to sleep huh? So cute~”

-But besides all that, he is really touched

-I mean, if there’s anyone undeserving of your love and respect is the piece of shit of who tried to kill you

-Yet here you are, continuously showering him with affection and now this

-Probably spent hours looking at your sketchbook while you were at R.A.D

-Didn’t say anything to you when you came back except handing your notebook back to you

-Though he was less of a smartass and more affectionate for the rest of the day

-Next morning, you took the liberty of waking up before him and sketching him again

-He grabbed your arm halfway through your doodling and grinned at you from under the covers

-“Drawing me again huh? You won’t mind me doing this while you’re at it then right?”

-Now he’s sleeping in your lap

-Whenever you show him your work, he makes a small approving noise but he’s seriously impressed

-Draw Lucifer or Lord Diavolo in any offensive manner and he will actually start giggling

-Gets all huffy puffy when you draw his brothers instead of him (we all know Beel is the exception)

-I may have a thing for Belphegour

Al~

#obey me #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me imagines #obey me leviathan #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me satan #⭐️ requests #☂️ demon brothers #🕯 general

573 notes · View notes

thefanficmonster · 3 years

Text

Kick Some Ghost Ass

”Until Dawn Gang x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Swearing, Sex jokes (excuse my bad humor)

Genre: CRACK, Humor

Summary: It’s one thing when trouble finds this gang, but why don’t we take a look at what happens when they go actively looking for trouble. Needless to say, chaos ensues and no one is spared. Some are more affected than others, and some are dead-ass traumatized, but isn’t that just how life is in general?

Requested by my dearest ever - Until Dawn Anon. Hi lovely! I’ve missed writing your requests and I’m really happy to be back, creating another chaotic fic! I’m sorry it has taken me so long to post it but here it finally is - crazy as ever! I hope you enjoy it! Love you to Blackwood Pines and back baby ❤❤❤

I don’t know how I’ve found myself in this situation but I’m not complaining. If I get to do dumb crazy shenanigans with my crew, I’m ready for just about anything. Not to mention I’m no stranger to ghost hunting. I’m that kid that made DIY Ouija boards and took them to cemeteries with their terrified friends. You should’ve seen us leaving after capturing no ghostly activity - my friends relieved as fuck, and me pissed as fuck.

But today, I’m not expecting nor will I be accepting any disappointment. Especially not with Jess swearing on her Chanel purse that she wasn’t making things up when she said she had a haunted house she wanted us to visit. I must say, I appreciate this group’s enthusiasm when it comes to the paranormal. Never have I had someone who catches my vibe on the subject so well, let alone an entire gang all sharing the same opinion as me - that ghosts, demons and poltergeists are so fucking cool. Sure, Emily took a bit of convincing and Jess is not one to give a shit about the other world creatures invisible to the human eye, but something allegedly happened that changed her mind.

Her a-hundred-and-something-year-old great-grandmother passed away recently and though the death itself didn’t shake Jess up as much as it probably should’ve, the events that followed led to this moment right now - the eleven of us pooling out of two minivans that have pulled up to a terrifying looking house in a wooded are of the suburbs. Jess literally gathered us all on an ‘emergency meeting’ in the courtyard of our college just so she could explain the situation in detail - she doesn’t do well with explaining things in general, let alone when she’s hysterical - so we only understood what she was trying to say when she mentioned the word ‘ghost’. That’s when we all started listening more closely, with the exception of Emily, Beth and Sam but the latter two were intrigued despite trying yo hide it. You can only imagine how excited Josh, Chris and I were, Mike and Matt following a close second behind. Ash was a tiny bit more hesitant but Chris convinced her to give in. And just like that, a week later, here we are.

“I gotta ask, did your great-gran own a VHS player? Or a chest in the attic? Bonus points if there’s a creepy, child-sized doll in there.“ Josh asks as he yanks all the equipment he insisted we bring out of the trunk of the minivan.

“Quit fucking around, Josh! This is serious!“ Jess complains from the spot she’s standing in, shivering in the cold autumn breeze.

“Yeah, Josh! VHS players, creepy dolls, that’s all child’s play.“ I scold him as I pull on my jacket, wrapping it around me more tightly, “Shit gets serious when there’s a secret basement.“

“Y/N!“ Jess shrieks in exasperation. Honesty, how am I supposed to NOT bother her when doing the opposite is so much easier and brings more amusement? “You’re not helping!“

“Wasn’t trying to.“ I wink at her, driving her into a new level of fury that almost leads her to chuck her phone at me. If it weren’t such a prized possession of hers, I’m pretty sure she would’ve chucked it with the intention of knocking me dead. I’m lucky she has the aim of a drunk toddler that spun around fifteen times.

“Hey, quit pissing my girlfriend off, will ya?!“ Mike, who is basically halfway inside the trunk of the other van calls out to us.

I roll my eyes but choose to let it slide. However, someone else doesn’t. Emily does a dramatic turn on her heel, turning to face Mike, or at least the only part of him which is visible. You can imagine how hard it is arguing with an ass like THAT. I don’t know how Emily does it but oh well, I guess I do it too, in a way.

“So it’s girlfriend now, huh? No space between the words?“ Oh that smile she’s flashing him, it could make the Devil himself shiver. I find it kinda hot though - it means shit’s about to go down or hit the fan, either way, the rest of us will be entertained.

Mikey boy straightens up, gracing the rest of us by-standers with his dazzling features. Nah, I’m capping. I honestly think Mike is as attractive as I am patient - very little, almost not at all. It’s surprising how him and Jess are now apparently together since I always pegged her to be the superficial type.

“Got a problem with that, Em?“ He asks, eyebrow raising, head tilting to the side. Oh yeah, it’s on now. But, as someone who’s been quite excited to do some ghost hunting, and also as a representative of the peanut gallery formed of the rest of us who find it amusing and annoying, I feel the need to cut it short before it goes where it shouldn’t. I came to see some exorcist shit, not Keeping Up With The Bitter Exs.

“Jess, I sure hope your grandma is a blood-thirsty ghost cause I can think of at least two people I’d serve to her on a silver platter.“ I snatch the keys the blond has been jingling nervously between her fingers and jog up the stairs to the front door.

Ok I maybe overexaggerated the eeriness of the house. It sure wouldn’t sit right with you if you saw it around sunset or at night, especially not if it’s foggy, but a horror movie house it is most certainly isn’t. It’s pristine and well kept, not a single crack in the walls, the only reason it’s unsettling is because: 1) We’ve all seen a few too many horror movies; 2) There’s been reports of ‘ghostly activity’ - as far as Jess is to be trusted.

While I’m surfing through all the keys, checking each and every single one of them on the door because the real key is unmarked, I can’t help but overhear the conversation going on behind me on the porch.

“Can you believe we got all this in a single day and for a discount on top of all?! Whoever says Craigslist sucks isn’t doing it right.“ Chris’ enthusiasm over the deal him and Josh got on the ghost hunting equipment has been what’s keeping a wide grin on his face this whole time. Though I’m proud of my boys for not getting murdered by the Craigslist seller, I must say I hate that I lost the bet we had - I had to pay them each ten bucks if they didn’t get scammed/kidnapped/murdered and I’m now twenty bucks poorer. I’m not saying I value those twenty bucks more than my friends, though my broke ass needs all the bucks it has and all the dollar bills it could get, but Lord knows I hate losing.

“Yeah, and the guy was only mildly sketchy.“ Josh adds just as excitedly and proudly, “To be honest, Cochise and I were probably the scary looking ones in that parking lot.“

A look over my shoulder shows the twins, Sam, Matt and Ash giving the duo skeptical and somewhat disappointing looks and shakes of their heads. I’ll admit, the equipment is in very good condition and it’s the complete set for ghost-hunting, according to BuzzFeed at least. I’m impressed with the purchase - probably had something to do with how scary Chris and Josh actually look. The all-nighters we’ve all been pulling lately have taken a toll on them worst with the dark circles and bags under their hollow eyes, pale faces and brains turned to mush. I know I’d give them a discount to avoid them pulling out meat cleavers on me.

“That’s all fine and dandy guys, but do you know how to work any of this?“ Sam asks, hesitantly lifting the EMF reader and turning it in her hand, analyzing it with a curious gaze.

Josh and Chris exchange a look before the former replies, “Just the cameras and voice recorder, the rest falls on them.” He points a finger at me and laughs, “Though they aren’t able to work something as simple as keys, they are more than qualified to be a ghostbuster.”

“You know, Josh, jokes on you, I can work keys! Jess, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to be able to work well with organizing things, hence my problem with these keys.“ I hurl the bunch of keys connected my a scarlet keychain at Josh, “Lemme demonstrate my true skills.“ I hop down the flight of stone stairs and approach the pile of equipment the guys have created smack-dab in the middle of the house’s driveway.

“Oh, I gotta see this!” Mr. Ex-Class-President all but runs over, frowning when we all turn to look at him just as I pick up the spirit box to show off how it works, “Oh that’s what you meant. So you aren’t taking your clothes off?“

Jess and I are alike in one thing - the need we feel to chuck objects at people who piss us off. “You’re girlfriend is, like, right behind you, Munroe. Have some decency!”

“I was gonna enjoy a show as well, but I’m guessing we won’t be getting one.“ The girlfriend in question replies, looking at me quizzically as though that’s gonna convince me into discarding my outfit.

“No, unless you’re a ghost.“ I point the device I’m holding at Mike, “But if your boyfriend here keeps acting up I might turn him into one.“

“That sounds kinda kinky.“ Beth’s comment surprises me. The wink she sends me even more so. “And I kinda like it.“

Ok, ok, ok, hold on.

Flirting with Munroe is one thing, but Beth is a completely different story. I can be threatening Mike with a knife one moment and cracking sex jokes with him over cold beer the next. While Beth actually has the ability to get me flustered and blushing, and my close relationship with her brother doesn’t help. Mother fucker can just whack me upside the head every time he catches me fussing over my silly crush on his sister.

“Ew, you too! Keep it in your pants or at least get a room.“ Emily doesn’t miss a beat when it comes to being herself. She’s truly a garbage bin full of treasure.

“We’d do the latter if SOMEONE could get the door open.” I glare daggers at Josh who is making hopeless attempts at what I was doing earlier - unlocking that damn door.

“I’d be more than happy to come through for you ladies.“ Mike says, getting in a stance of a runner before a race, his body directly opposite the door.

Oh I can’t wait to see where this is going. I SHOULD RECORD IT.

“Mike, it’s still breaking and entering and it’s still against the law even if the person’s dead.“ Sam points out, entering her mother-like mode, ruining the fun and causing me to pout at her. She gives me a look of disappointment - one worse than I’ve ever seen on my parents - so I just shut my trap before she can also express said disappointment through words and have me feeling guilty for the rest of the day.

A loud crash suddenly echoes causing us to turn our heads to look for the source of the terrifyingly startling sound. One glance is all it takes to put our minds at ease and a second one is enough to provoke different reactions in all of us - the broken window telling the story of where Josh has disappeared.

“What did I just say about breaking and entering?!“ Sam shouts after him while the vast majority of us are cracking up like hyaenas. Jess is just gaping at the broken window next to the front door in disbelief. She obviously can’t decide whether to join in on the fun or serve as back-up to Sam. Josh did technically damage private property that’s partially hers, but if you ask me it serves her right for not marking her keys.

“Sorry, I was too busy breaking the window to hear that part of the conversation!“ Josh’s apologetic smile appears on the other side of glassless frame. I can’t tell if he’s genuinely sorry or holding back laughter but either way, he looks innocent enough for Sam to let him off the hook as long as he doesn’t cause any more trouble - in which case: tough luck. Chris, Josh and I are nothing if not troublemakers, especially when we’re together. Chris tones it down when Ash’s around, and the same goes for Josh with Sam while I’m simply problematic regardless of who’s watching. My chaos is untamable, it’s a blessing and a curse and I love it, even though it’s landed me in hot water more than once. It’s nice to be around people on the same wavelength - chaos resides within this group and not a single one of us can hide it.

“At least we have a way in now.“ Ash offers Josh a helping hand in this argument after she recovers from the overwhelming fit of laughter. “I hope the broken window doesn’t anger your gran, Jess.“

The blond snaps out of her trance briefly, “No, she was a very sweet lady, but damn is Josh creative!” She hurries to correct herself, “Destructively creative.”

I hurry to correct her once again, “Chaotically creative.”

“Guys, do you mind coming in? It’s very creepy standing here alone!“ Josh calls out to us, looking over his shoulder at the interior of the house, “I’m expecting to be snatched and dragged to that secret basement we mentioned.“

“Mention it one more time and I swear to God-!“ Jess screams, fists tightened.

Before her angry wrath could crash atop us, we all make our way into the house through the broken window, carefully avoiding the shards of glass strewn about. One step inside and we’re met with the upmost of horror clichés - a drop in temperature. We’re all wearing thick hoodies because the weather outside is chilly in and of itself, but said hoodies aren’t as efficient at holding the house’s cold at bay and away from out skin.

Chris and Matt make their way in last, carrying the equipment consisting of three cameras, flashlights for everyone, an EMF reader, a spirit voice box, a voice recorder and a motion detector. I help them hand a light to each group member as well as a ghost-hunting device before we venture onward.

“If I were your grandma’s ghost, I’d be ten times more pissed about that window. It looks to me like that lady payed a lot of attention to keeping things in order.“ Matt comments while he examines the expensive looking painting hanging in the hallway.

I hear Emily scoff, “Unlike some.” but the remark is said so quickly and quietly I’m pretty sure I’m the only one who heard it.

Jess laughs, “She did like things in order, but she was never as strict as you might think. As I said, she was very sweet.“

“So do you just not take after her at all or were you adopted?“ Emily’s remarks are no longer a mumbled jumble of words, “No, nevermind, of course you’re not adopted. Your parents are smart people, they wouldn’t have chosen you if they had the chance.“

Jess laughs again, much more menacingly this time, causing me to exchange a look with Hannah who’s walking beside me. “Twenty bucks says one of them isn’t making it out of here.” It’s just a matter of time, to be honest. If not the lodge, or any party we’ve ever attended as a group, this haunted house is the perfect opportunity for a murder. We could even argue it was a ghost.

Luckily, the two cats clawing at each other’s throats don’t overhear, “No, my parents aren’t stupid, but your boyfriend clearly is. He chooses to date you! Or are you holding him captive or something.“

Ok that’s enough. I can tolerate a lot of things, but people calling one of my best friends stupid is not something I’m about to put up with, “How dare you call one of my hoes stupid?” I sneer at Jess, eyes narrowing.

“I thought I was your hoe too!“ She fights back, looking almost offended.

“Even more reason you shouldn’t have called him that! I don’t tolerate my hoes not respecting each other.“

I don’t get to see where this argument goes because Ashley’s shriek echoes throughout the hallway, stealing mine as well as the attention of everyone else.

“There’s a ghost in here!“ Making it to the doorway of the room she’s in first, I peak my head inside and see the EMF reader she’s holding going nuts as if it’s detected something.

“Don’t worry, Ash, there’s a dead cactus here. That’s not the ghost we’re looking for, is it?“ Chris, my amazingly bright friend says, quirking an eyebrow suggesting that remark was nothing short of dead-ass serious.

“Chris, darling, that’s not how it works. Cactuses are plants.“ I point out as sweetly as I can as to mask my laughter.

“Don’t the same ghostly rules apply?“ The genuine look of confusion he gives me almost makes me lose it.

“Ok children, leave the room, we need to set up a motion detector to be sure.“ Beth says with a tone that suggests she’s more than over our insanity. Jeez, count on her and Sam to start parenting us through our chaos. They are of high authority, must admit - one genuinely feels bad if they don’t comply to whatever these two girls demand.

We all pile out in the hallway while the twins set up this interesting motion detector with green dots. I don’t know what Jess’ granny looked like, but I bet that even the most unattractive of people would look hella good with this lighting. Thankfully the room is dark enough with the shutters closed and the curtains drawn, allowing the dots to be perfectly visible.

We stare at the minimalistic room littered with fluorescent green dots on every surface for maybe a minute or two but not much happens to the disappointment to some and relief to others. However, as if not wanting to let us down, the ghost makes a shy appearance if the shift of the green dots is anything to go by.

“Oh shit, is that a ghost?“ Chris whispers, sounding as amazed as I feel in this moment.

“It better be.“ I mutter in response, refusing to blink and risk missing anything important.

The sudden presence of the obnoxious noise of the spirit voice box makes us all jump. As I turn my head to glare at whoever’s using it, Josh speaks up. “Are you an attractive ghost?”

“Josh, that’s my great-grandmother, you ass!“ Jess barks with disgust in her voice.

In the meantime, I catch glimpse of Mike rolling up his sleeves. Oh shit, this ain’t good.

“I’ve been waiting for this!“ He shouts victoriously, cracking his knuckles.

Knowing this won’t end well, the first thing I do is snatch the camera from Chris’ hands and turn it on.

“Um, Mike, what do you mean?“ Sam’s back to being concerned, turning to the rest of us when Mike doesn’t give her a response, “What’s he gonna do?“

“Fight it.“ I answer as though it’s the most normal thing to ever have been done, “Or, ash he calls it - kick some ghost ass.“

“A freaking ghost?! He’s gonna try to tussle with something he can’t see?“ I can’t tell if Matt’s tone is disbelief, amusement or disappointment, but I believe he isn’t about to try and stop or dear ex-president in his pursuit and that’s all that matters. I ain’t about to let someone stop whatever’s about to go down from going down.

“That’s still my great-grandmother, you dumbass!“ Jess shrieks with something alike terror.

“Don’t worry Jess, I’m sure she’ll go easy on him.“ I say in an attempt to reassure her but I can’t even be bothered really, I’m too laser-focused on the circus that’s about to take place in front of me.

Mike, as if encouraged by my words, charges into the room. Much to his dismay, before he could even reach the ghost, he’s met with a much more vigorous enemy - the carpet. The rascal trips him up and Mr. Munroe falls flat on his face.

The group stays silent, looking at the glorious aftermath of the glorious fall. Told ya these lights could make everything fabulous. Must say, it’s truly an honor for me to have been able to catch all that on tape.

“10/10, would ghost-hunt with Mikey Munroe again.“

47 notes · View notes