#prompt: guilty conscience
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So many ways to see the sunrise
@febuwhump 2024: Day 13: “you weren’t supposed to get hurt”
@badthingshappenbingo: guilty conscience (card is at the end)
Rating: Teen And Up
Words: 1,158
Fandom: Vat7k
Warnings: Violence, Injury, Crying
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Title is from Everything Moves by Bronze Radio Return
Varian held his notebook up to the light of his staff, his eyes tracing the lines of the map he had sketched. He was deep in the jungle now, having to fight his way through hanging vines and stalks of bamboo. He was close; according to the map, the temple should be just a few minutes away. So, he continued on, his face set and his steps deliberate. Then, finally, his boot hit the solid stone of a cracked pathway, and the temple came into view.
It was made of blocky structures with carved out windows that were stacked on top of each other, looking like almost a puzzle of rooms. The textured stone was spotted with patches of sunlight where the beams shone through the layers of leafy canopy above. Vibrant green vines hung off it, draping to the ground.
Varian took barely a seconds’ glance at it, though. Instead, he tucked his notebook into his jacket and continued forward, only one thing on his mind—getting to the last key before his mom could.
Varian stepped into the darkness, his staff illuminating just a small circle around him. His eyes scanned the blackness for a second before he reached into his coat and pulled out a vial, then sprinkled the dust it held out onto his fingers. It was a dark maroon, with specks of shimmering lavender and a dark, rusty blue that shone in the light of his staff. He pocketed the vial, then snapped and flicked his wrist forward in one fluid motion, shooting the dust into the air. The dark metal pieces of his glove scraped together as he snapped, sending a spark tumbling across the powder. It caught ablaze right as it was flicked across the room, carried by the small lavender particles it contained. A line of fire was suspended in the air in front of Varian, casting a bright red glow over the room. Then, the line split into two as he moved his hand to the side, dragging the line away from the center by the darker particles, forced to follow the movements of Varian’s glove. He pushed the remaining line to the other side, then stepped forward, farther into the temple.
A voice came from the other side of the room. “Clever.”
Varian nearly jumped, but instead he swung his staff forward and held it steady, ready to lunge forward at a moment's notice. He exhaled. “Thank you. Mom.”
“Of course, sweetie.” She stepped forward, illuminated by a faint green glow. “You really are quite talented, Varian.”
“Thanks, but that doesn’t really mean much coming from you.”
“Well why not?”
He frowned. “Uh, you’re kinda evil.”
“So? That doesn’t mean anything. I can still call you smart, and I’m still your mom.” She continued forward as Varian stood, frozen, still pointing his staff at her.
“Yes, it does.”
Ulla smiled, a tinge of pity in her eyes. “I know it’s been a while-“
“It’s been 17 years!” He shot back, his muscles tensing up. “You’ve been gone for all of my life, and when you finally do come back, the first thing you do is try and get revenge on someone, not to mention the fact that you’re digging up things that shouldn’t exist in the first place!” He gestured wildly with his staff, his eyes wide and screaming.
She cocked her head to the side. “Demanitus spent years making these compounds. He created these powers for a reason,” She explained, her voice careful, but toeing the line of rage.
“Yeah, and he split them up and hid them across the world for a reason, too,” Varian retorted. “This stuff is dangerous, and that means nobody should be able to use it.”
“Not even for science? Experiments?” She moved closer. “Aren’t you curious about what they can really do?”
“I know what they can do, and so did Demanitus.” He dropped back into something of a fighting stance. “Which is why I can’t let you have it.”
Midnight blue daggers of metal shining like oil spills shot out of Varian’s pockets as he lunged forward, pushing his staff out ahead of him. Almost immediately after, Ulla returned his attack with a pillar of crystalline amber, shooting out of the ground in front of him. He jumped back to avoid it, but still continued to attack. Varian shot the daggers forward and pulled them back with incredible precision, always keeping them just out of Ulla’s reach. She, on the other hand, pushed forward with huge walls and boulders of green crystal, forcing Varian back. They traded blows in a careful dance, Ulla pushing Varian back but neither doing much physical damage.
Varian was forced to retreat to avoid getting crushed, but as he did so, he stumbled. One of the daggers wavered in the air for just a second and before he could correct it, Ulla grabbed it out of the air. With her other hand, she scooped a handful of the flaming powder from the line, then swept her hands together.
With a clap that could’ve almost been thunder, molecules crumbled in her hands and melded together, fusing them completely. The new compound flooded the room with a shining white light, seeming to flicker between states of matter every second.
“No,” Varian whispered. The fear in his eyes seemed to soak into his soul before he pulled himself out of his head and pushed his daggers back towards her.
This time, though, they were met with seemingly triple the amount of force as previously. Walls of crystal so tall they scraped the roof of the room hurtled towards him, giving him barely enough time to dodge. Then they would crumble, then dissolve, spreading puddles of acid all around him. Varian was fumbling, barely able to keep his daggers in the air as he tried to dodge Ulla’s attacks.
He looked back, trying to find solid stone to stand on. He looked up to see a flame covered bolt of magic shoot through the air, straight at him. A figure jumped in front of him, then fell to the ground.
Varian blinked. The world snapped back into his head as he stared at the body in front of him, and its familiar shock of blond hair. He spoke so quietly it was almost inaudible. “Hugo.”
Emerald flashed in his peripheral and his head shot up. His arm flicked out and a dagger followed. With deadly precision, it managed to just graze her temple. He wasn’t watching as she collapsed.
He fell to his knees and stared in disbelief at Hugo. “No, no, you weren’t supposed to be here,” He muttered, his voice dissolving into a sob. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.” His voice finally broke. “Hugo I’m sorry. This is all my fault and I’m so sorry, please-“
His world was dissolving around him and his world was laying in his arms. He didn’t think he would get either back.
#writing#creative writing#febuwhump#febuwhump 2024#febuwhump day 13#bad things happen bingo#prompt: guilty conscience#fandom: varian and the seven kingdoms#hugo vat7k#varian vat7k#varigo#vat7k#varian and the 7 kingdoms
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An entry for @badthingshappenbingo because for once my writing mojo has actually came back. Also this is the first fic i've written here so woot.
Fandom: Helluva Boss
Characters: Millie, Moxxie, Blitzo
Prompt: Guilty Conscience
Summary: When a mission in the human world goes terribly wrong, Millie's left with nothing but her thoughts as she waits for Moxxie to wake up. Blitzo come to keep her company and tries to get her mind off things.
BTHB Card under the cut to save space
#badthingshappenbingo#helluva boss#prompt: guilty conscience#Millie x Moxxie#I don't really want to tag the characters even though i should?#anyways have fun reading this#fanfic#writing#my writing
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Bad Things Happen Bingo, Guilty Conscience
Title: Take Away My Reproach
Rating: Teen and Up Audiences
Fandom: B: The Beginning (Anime)
Relationships: Keith Kazama Flick/Gilbert Ross, Keith Kazama Flick/Lily Hoshina
Word Count: 1236
Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43769754
@badthingshappenbingo
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Blame
By KyberCrystals94
Read on Ao3 here!
Whumptober 2023|Day 3|Prompt 3: “Make it stop.”
Bad Things Happen Bingo|Prompt: Guilty Conscience
Rating: G
Words: 499
Summary: The Batch argues over what to do for a suffering brother.
“What should we do?”
“We can’t take him to medical.”
“We also cannot allow him to suffer further.”
“Then think of something else! I thought you were supposed to have superior intelligence, di’kut.”
“Hey, leave Tech alone. This isn’t his fault.”
“I’ll leave him alone once he stops suggesting we take Hunter to medical. It’s like he doesn’t remember what the Kaminoans do to failed experiments like us.”
“We are not failed experiments. We are valuable assets. They would not waste years of research over something as simple as a migraine.”
“Leave it to the human computer to take the long necks’ side over his own brother’s.”
“Crosshair!”
“I am not siding with them. I am simply stating the facts. We are prolonging Hunter’s suffering because of your trepidation that him being treated by the Kaminoan medical team would automatically result in his being decommissioned.”
“You are so focused on the facts, and yet you refuse to acknowledge the fact that your precious Kaminoans have never given us a reason to believe they have our best interests in mind. We are experimental products off an assembly line. If we are defective, we are unsellable. Worthless in their disgusting, greedy minds.”
“Make it stop,” a weak voice whimpers from the darkened corner of the barracks where Hunter has been isolated, interrupting the escalating argument.
Wrecker shoots Crosshair a dark look before making his way over to their suffering brother. He presses his large hands on either side of Hunter’s head, knowing the pressure sometimes brings some relief. Hunter’s face is soaked in pain induced tears. He chokes on a suppressed sob. “Please, I don’t care what they do if they can just make it stop.”
Tech and Wrecker turn to look at Crosshair. The young sniper keeps his fiery gaze steady on the engineer.
“Fine,” Crosshair snaps. He shoves a finger hard into Tech’s chest and snarls, “but if anything happens to him, it will be your fault.”
“Crosshair,” Wrecker growls a warning, tone uncharacteristically quiet for Hunter’s sake, “knock it off. Tech is right. We don’t have anything we can do for Hunter here. And what if this isn’t just a migraine? What if it’s something worse? I know we don’t trust the Kammies, but we don’t have any other choice.”
Crosshair bites hard on the toothpick he’s been abusing between his teeth, and it snaps. He spits the splintered remains on the ground before he leaves the barracks in roaring silence.
“He doesn’t mean it, Tech,” Wrecker says, once the door slides shut.
Tech’s eyes are on his data pad, putting in an emergency request for medical assistance. “I know,” he replies. “Crosshair is unfortunately cruel when he is worried; however, it is…distressing, nonetheless. Medical is on their way.”
“Hunter’s going to be okay.” Wrecker gently tries to dry Hunter’s face as the cadet continues to quietly cry.
Tech sighs, finally meeting Wrecker’s gaze, eyes shining behind the glass of his goggles. “I hope you’re right.”
#whumptober 2023#day 3#prompt 3#“make it stop.”#bad things happen bingo#guilty conscience#fanfiction#star wars#the bad batch#the clone wars#tbb tech#tbb hunter#tbb wrecker#tbb crosshair#cadet batch#star wars tbb#sw tbb fanfic#migraine#ao3 fanfic#ao3 writer#fics by kyber
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They were so cool, so pretty. The way the sunshine would play on their face, dancing around piercings and light sparkle-makeup? Completely mesmerizing, and they were so nice too-
“It’s so annoying! It always happens that I make a friend and then they get crushes on me or fall in love with me, but I don’t like them that way! I just want a friend, y’know?”
… it was purely aesthetical appreciation, I can totally say or think you are pretty and mean it in a platonic way. Everybody does it!
Haha.
Ha.
#hehe guilty conscience 🥰#honestly now i want a fanfic abt this lmao#so#fic prompt#writing prompt#i’ll think about it and then Not Write It so#hm
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✎ ❝general relationship headcanons!❞
syzoth (feat. ashrah), baraka, raiden
love languages
fluff
thouple (syzoth + ashrah + reader)
thank you guys for so much support! im just going this hc thingy while I think up this for the raiden story (which hopefully won’t take too long). please enjoy!! ᰔ
ᰔ syzoth :: quality time and gift giving
he is not uncomfortable to talk about his passed family, honestly syzoth would enjoy if his partner was interested in that part of his life. whether it’s recommending visiting their grave site, or sharing his grief—is something that he greatly appreciates.
the reason ashrah and syzoth work so well is because they’re both trying to right their sins, having you be there and being supportive means the absolute world. he shows you that through small thoughtful gifts (mostly trinkets that he finds at markets or on his walks).
idk if anyone is actually interested in a thouple with them…but hear me out 🤲. I genuinely think ashrah and syzoth would be so well rounded and loving. date nights either in Shaolin’s gardens or mileena’s palace (probably in the library), always romantic with stereotypical candle light and a nice dinner. syzoth thinks it’s important to make it special as possible since there’s only a few times when you’re all together.
. . .
ᰔ baraka: acts of service, words of affirmation, physical touch
what baraka truly needs is another leader. there is so much responsibility placed on his shoulders with the colony—but of course he would never truly ask you to help, he’s stubborn and well…has a guilty conscience. you would need to insert yourself without needing to be prompted. assertiveness and responsibility is something he finds extremely attractive, as well as being compassionate, gods knows that it’s also something he needs.
physical contact is foreign to him, after years of being alone once his family passed and being ill. he adores it when you bring some type of normalcy to touching him, though he’s the first to pull away. baraka knows the risk he puts you in everyday, if he can limit the chances of tarkat spreading to you—while still indulging this relationship, he will.
like asking for extra leadership—he wouldn’t pursue you. baraka wouldn’t ever expect another chance of love, in all honesty he would think that his pining is one sided. Though once you’ve established a relationship with him, he’s open with you. private moments with you are filled with him thanking you for the work you put in the colony, and how you treat not only him but others. even though he’s no poet, he makes sure you know he cherishes you.
. . .
ᰔ raiden: words of affirmation and quality time
usually he pursues people that he highly respects. you don’t have to do something exceptional, but having passion for your own beliefs is what he values in a person and especially in a partner. also it would be admirable if you were interested in his own goals and aspirations, after all raiden’s prospective has changed much once the events in outworld has passed.
raiden is humble…but he likes showing off to you—not exactly out of place of smugness but he enjoys when you are impressed at his talents. he smiles so brightly whenever you compliment him on his achievements or on his hard work in general. it’s probably one of his top motivation besides him genuinely enjoy what he’s doing.
if you two ever got the chance to go back to fengjian his first goal would to introduce you to his family, he has to be a mama’s boy. he cares deeply for his family and he wants you to feel included in that circle. besides visiting them, he’s taking you to see the sites and old hang out spots. leading you along by holding your hand keeping you close (I love him he’s so sweet ugh). it means everything that you’re willing to listen to his childhood stories and just with him in general to visit his hometown.
sadly i’m trying to keep his to minimum since my own little headcanons for him should show up in the story i’m writing for him :]
thank you for reading!
#baraka x reader#syzoth#mk1 x reader#mk1#mortal kombat#mortal kombat x reader#raiden mk1#syzoth mk1#baraka#hcs#fluff#raiden x reader#x reader#ashrah#ashrah x reader#ashrah x syzoth#syzoth x reader
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Three Women Perplex the British Government
1362 words / Prompt: Journey / A sequel to Sixth Sense. (Just in case you were wondering what Molly decided to do!)
---
He doesn’t recognise the woman standing before him. His mother trained him well, though, so he rises and gestures at the chair.
“Please.” He glances at Anthea, who is giving him an inscrutable look from the doorway. The one that says he’s offended her in some way that she will neither admit nor explain.
Anthea closes the door. Mycroft regards the woman, who is still standing.
“Please,” he repeats, giving her a generic smile.
His visitor is regarding him as well. Studying him. No smile. “I’d rather not.”
She’s a tiny woman, and he’s a tall man. If she would only sit down, he could sit as well, and it would not feel so much like he’s bullying her. That’s not his style, at least not with women. Small women, dressed in hand knit jumpers.
He has no idea what she wants, but is afraid that some persuasion might be necessary. Not the bullying he reserves for his brother, or even the subtle manipulation he aims at John Watson, a difficult man to intimidate.
“Miss…?” He feels like he ought to know her.
“Molly Hooper,” she says. “We haven’t met. I’m—”
“Yes, of course. Doctor Hooper. How can I help you?” He looks down at her, desperately wishing she’d take the chair. “I should thank you,” he remembers to say. “Your help was greatly appreciated. I hope my brother expressed that to you.”
“I’m here about John Watson.”
“Ah.” He narrows his eyes, anticipating the outburst of sentiment she will unleash. “I’m maintaining surveillance on him. You need not concern yourself about any retribution against him. He is safe.”
“It’s not that,” she replies, folding her arms across her chest and glaring. She’s about as intimidating as a kindergarten teacher, but she’s making him uneasy.
He should have anticipated this. Sherlock assured him that she would play her part well, and Mycroft himself managed the business about the body. But even a goldfish might have a conscience, especially if other goldfish are asking questions.
“Are you receiving any scrutiny over your part in the plan? That can be handled.”
“No, it’s fine. What I mean is, John isn’t coping well with Sherlock’s death.”
“Ah. My brother asked you to assist him in keeping Doctor Watson in the dark, and you’re feeling guilty that you know things which he does not. I assure you that we considered all possible scenarios, and none of them involved taking Doctor Watson into our confidence.”
“Why not?”
“Doctor Watson is a soldier. He is used to death and equipped to handle grief.”
“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” she says, glaring in earnest now. “It’s been months. Have you seen him?”
“My people are keeping a weather eye on him.”
“But you haven’t called on him?”
“He would not appreciate hearing from me, Doctor Hooper. I’m afraid my concern will not help him.”
She closes her eyes briefly, shaking her head. “You made a mistake. You and Sherlock.”
“There were not many options before us.”
“Was it you or Sherlock who decided not to tell him?”
“My brother has a great deal of sentiment for Doctor Watson. I’m afraid I had to dissuade him.”
Her voice raises. “Because he loves John?”
“Doctor Watson is not…” He considers how he should word it, decides that being forthright will end this conversation sooner. “My brother’s feelings are not returned. Cannot be returned. Sherlock is gay, and Doctor Watson is not.”
“How do you know?”
“He has stated this publicly several times. Sherlock knows as well. In order to undertake the task he set for himself, it was necessary to leave him behind. I have no doubt that the doctor will meet a lovely woman and be married before long.”
“I don’t care what label you put on him. He loved Sherlock, and it’s killing him that he’s dead. He has PTSD. When they met, he was suicidal. If anything happens to him—”
“Miss Hooper. If you are considering breaking your promise, I must warn you. This matter involves branches of our government whose existence is unknown to most people. I would hate to—”
“Don’t threaten me, Mr Holmes,” she says. “At this point, what is the harm in telling him? If there are still snipers trailing after him, you haven’t done a very good job, have you? And if there aren’t any snipers, there’s no reason not to tell him.”
He has erred. This woman is no goldfish.
And Anthea keeps asking him about Watson, suggesting that it’s time he knew.
And then there’s this other woman. Mary Morstan, she calls herself. A complication. She vexes him.
“Very well,” he says. “I will handle it.”
---
“Well, I’m back,” John says.
The headstone is silent, as it should be. John Watson does not look like a man who expects an answer from a block of marble. He squares his shoulders and stands at parade rest, hands clasped behind his back.
“I’m back again,” he repeats. “I just wanted to tell you something.”
He looks uneasy, Mycroft thinks. A confession, then.
“When you died, I thought I’d never… find myself again. I wasn’t good, not for a long time. Maybe that would surprise you.” He smiles grimly. “Well, you’re beyond surprise now, so I may as well say what I didn’t say the first time I came here. No, I’m not going to ask again. I know there’s not going to be any miracle. You’re not… coming back.”
He lowers his face into his hand. For a moment his shoulders shake. Mycroft waits.
Drawing a deep breath, he raises his head. “So, this is it. What I should have told you… when it might have made a difference. Maybe it wouldn’t have, but I wish I’d said, just in case… well. I love you. I always did.” Choking back a sob, he continues. “You didn’t do that, though. No sentiment. Caring’s not an advantage. Yeah. But I did. Love you.”
The sentiment is so thick, it’s almost nauseating. Mycroft desperately wants a cigarette. Reminding himself of what he’s here to do, he waits.
“Once, I asked you for a miracle. But there aren’t any miracles, at least not for us. And now…” John wipes his eyes on the sleeve of his jumper. “Now it’s time. I know I’ll never be over you, never forget what it was like… but I’m alive, and I think I have to do something to stay that way. Get on with it, try to have a life without you.” He clears his throat and sniffs. “I met somebody. She isn’t you, but I think you would have liked her, that she would’ve been the one who finally passed muster. I know she would’ve liked you. So, I’m giving it a go, asking her. To marry me, I mean.”
He makes a sound that might be a laugh, or maybe a sob. “I have to try,” he says. “I wish… well, it’s no use. I love you, but you’re not here. And I just can’t be alone forever. So.” He straightens his back, nods at the black marble. “This is goodbye, Sherlock.”
As he turns, Mycroft steps out. John’s eyes widen, then narrow with suspicion.
“Doctor Watson,” he says. “There are several things you need to know.”
—-
When he opens the door of his office, Anthea is waiting for him.
“Well?”
“You were right.” He sighs and meets her eyes. “Good call.”
The look on her face softens into a barely-detectable smile. “I’ve taken care of the Morstan woman. Extradition is underway.”
“She was…?”
“Yes. Different name, but she’d done several jobs for him. The Americans will be glad to have her back. She won’t be visiting us any time soon.”
He nods, suddenly weary, and sinks into his chair. Too much sentiment, too much emotion. It’s exhausting. “Now we only need to bring my brother home.”
“We’ve received word this morning that he’s on his way to to Serbia.”
“No.”
“No?”
“Intercept him. We’ll let Baynes and his team handle that. Sherlock needs to come home.”
Her smile broadens. “As you wish.”
The door closes behind her.
“Good journey, brother,” he whispers. “No more surprises.”
---
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Dangantober Ghost Photo breakdown
Dangantober Ghost Photos
with some little behind the scenes ghost shenanigans
they may be ghosts for a while....
Full breakdown of each character below ↓
MAJOR DANGAN SPOILERS
The main idea was inspired by Sayaka, the avoidable tragedy of her death, and the vengeance that allowed her to name her killer from 'beyond the grave'
Each ghost is stuck, or trapped in some sort of loop, compelled to act according to certain 'rules', much like how they lived under monokuma within the Killing Game.
Each rule has some connection to a ghost's talent, aspect of their life, or death. Reminding them of their regrets in a fashion that wouldn't allow them to pass on.
Sayaka "Don’t swap the dormitory name plates."
Her fate in the game was a self-fulfilling prophecy. She was so scared of being trapped in the school, that she trapped herself. It seemed like a perfect stimulus for a ghost, going over the events of her death again and again, but never being able to break out of the cycle. She always leaves behind the message, as she'll never know if Makoto understood her regrets.
Mukuro "Don’t pick a fight in the gym."
Mukuro's haunting is based entirely on how her death was a result of picking a fight with monokuma, and how she loses everything. Her lingering grudge creates an animalistic aggressive atmosphere like a Fenrir Wolf, her stoic soldier persona lost as she lashes out at people who remind her of her failure. She hides herself like she did in life, only visible in reflections as Junko's shadow - and will try stab you in the back, playing out her own betrayal.
Leon "Don’t play with baseballs near the hallway"
It seemed like the worst fate for Leon would be being stuck, static in his unwanted role as The Ultimate Baseball Star. As with his murder, he couldn't help himself, but resorted back to those skills to dispose of evidence. His animosity making the game almost unplayable for everyone else, he releases all his frustrations toward himself, almost zombie like, at a scapegoat: baseball.
Chihiro "Don’t enter the locker rooms at night"
Chihiro's murder and trial was mostly co-opted by red-herrings, like Genocide Jack and the location of the murder. So the idea is that the story got warped by a series of Chinese whispers; Genocide Jack miscast as a 'bloody Mary' style urban legend, Chihiro a forgotten footnote. Based on how Hina thought Alter Ego was actually Chihiro's ghost; I thought the haunting could work more like a séance or a ouija board; asking Chihiro questions beyond the veil much like how AlterEgo helped the class, Chihiro is only trying to help.
Mondo "Don’t eat the butter in the cafeteria"
I REACHED for Mondo, I know! but he got turned into BUTTER! I wanted to incorporate his execution with his motive to murder, so his ghost is based on Calabar beans, supposedly able to sort the guilty and the innocent. If you swallow without worry the poison might not spread, but if you eat cautiously and chew; you'll die.
He appears slowly, enough that you can ignore him, the same why you might ignore your guilty conscience. He may be a hypocrite, but in a way he's trying to save you from his own fate.
Taka "Don’t pass notes in the classroom"
Not unlike Sayaka, it's another case of replaying actions when they were alive, but Taka is still continuing his role as 'Hall Monitor' His prompt is passing notes since that's what lead to his death, originally the note you were passed in class was going to be written by Taka but that felt like it broke his own rules. He disappears if he's ignored, much how he faded after Mondo's death. Ishida is only triggered if you interrupt his routine, disrupt his pace, and create disorder from what he sees as order, holding Mondo's pickaxe almost like a reaper's scythe.
Hifumi "Don’t play hooky in the art rooms"
I know Hifumi is the 'Ultimate Fanfic Creator' in the english, but my brain always autocorrects that to 'Doujin Author' instead. And given his focus on fandom culture, I thought his haunting playing out like a video game, something in the zeitgeist like Slenderman the Eight Pages would be appropriate. Originally I had you collecting his artworks, with Hifumi hunting you down, blinded by the blood covering his glasses. He creates his own narrative much like how Celeste convinced him to go through with the murder. He certainly casts himself as a 'protector', expressing glee at being justified in his actions.
Celeste "Don’t default on your debts"
As much as you could see Celeste's talent as unwholesome, she took absolute pride in it, and part of that was following through on a bet. Celeste does seem like the type to always find an angle; so she will find a way to exploit those around her into spoiling her, but that's not enough to dispel her stripped aristocracy. She's not in some vast ornate fireplace, she's in an incinerator where you burn rubbish. And the Versailles Witch won't let you get away if you get close enough to see her indignity.
Sakura "Don’t be disrespectful in the dojo"
Sakura was very difficult since, like Chihiro, she's got no real impetus to become a vengeful spirit at all. But given her choice to betray the class to protect her dojo, it would be cold comfort being forced to watch over a facsimile of a dojo, at arms length, in a fashion like Tantalus. Her statue is based on Nio, muscular wrestler like figures who stand at the entrance of shrines to protect them from evil. She functions a little like SCP-173, she can only move if she's not watched.
---
Given that the sdr2 kids were all remnants of despair, and all had the potential to be as monstrous as Junko - I tried to link them each to an urban legend or a cryptid or similar, to make them another degree removed from humanity.
Additionally, their rules are written to sound more like threats, than the THH kids' warnings, to make the distinction that they were more dangerous, far more active.
Imposter "Never copy someone else’s work"
There's a common belief that everyone has a doppelgänger, a normal extension of the concept that there are only so many different faces in the world, so some are bound to be potentially near identical. But it's often seen as a bad omen to see yours - a signifier of your imminent death, or maybe a tragedy. The Imposter craves the sensation being someone else, so they don't have to be left with the void that is their own personality. By reducing you to the imitation they show you a fraction of their own personal despair.
Teruteru "Never take someone’s food without asking"
Although it could be argued that all the ghosts are kinds of Poltergeists, but I wanted Teruteru to have less of a physical appearance but to express himself through the items in the kitchen - the thrown knives, the rattling pans, the food, much how he was truly himself whilst cooking, but outside of that he projected a false and vain persona, a persona which has been burned away. There's also a reference to the crimes he's implied to have committed whilst a remnant of despair, namely cannibalism.
Mahiru "Never record over something without checking"
A large part of Mahiru's philosophy surrounding photography is in capturing the smiles and happy memories of her subjects. Writing over any of those would be unthinkable to her. She's based on Spirit Photography, ghosts and apparitions appearing in celluloid, with some aspects of the Ring, a ghoul able to cross over and reach you through a medium which something shouldn't be able to. The AV equipment she haunts is supposed to have been left behind by classes 77 and 78, the only other echoes of them that remain at Hope's Peak.
Peko "Never knock on an occupied stall"
I know it's unfair! But she spends so much of case 1 in the toilet, and disposes of the evidence in case 2 in a bathroom.... Plus, I based her haunting on Hanako-san, a ghost who haunts a toilet stall, and only appears if someone knocks at her door. Peko cannot act alone - she can only act if she's called upon, if someone asks for her. Her multiple hands juggling the masks of the many identities she wears as she has none of her own. The colourful façade of 'Sparkling Justice' being her most memorable, and overriding her own face. Delicate yakuza tattoos wrap around her fingers, and she's missing her little finger on all but one of her hands - a common yakuza punishment for failure.
Ibuki "Never interrupt someone’s musical performance."
If Sayaka is a siren, Ibuki is a Banshee, not only due to her singing voice, but also as she heralds the death of Hiyoko. Ibuki became trapped in someone else's elaborate web which lead to her death, so in her haunt she becomes twisted within the threads of her own vocal chords - as a reference to how she couldn't tell anyone what was wrong due to the despair disease. Her exceptional hearing helping her locate you, like a spider finds flies through the vibrations of the web. I was also inspired by the so-called suicide song, Gloomy Sunday, and getting such a song stuck in your head
Hiyoko "Never taunt someone with hurtful names"
I wanted to make the rules more specific than just 'don't be a bully' so I used Hiyoko's vice of name calling as what makes her zone in on you; much how she picks apart insects when we first meet her.
She's mistaken for a Zashiki-warashi, a harmless child spirit, a Japanese yokai in ode to her love of traditional Japanese culture. She's actually closer to a Usutsuki-warashi, a bad-omen, spirit of a child culled during famine when there wasn't enough food to go around - much like Hiyoko was culled to remove her as a witness.
Mikan "Never feign being sick"
Mikan was partly based on Annabelle, the possessed Raggedy Anne doll, in how her innocent and clumsy nature belied the darkness beneath, but also how she was ultimately still just Junko's puppet on a string. Her only place of control is in the nurse's office where she can inflict her own feelings of helplessness onto her patients.
(but there was also definite inspiration from the Silent Hill 2 Nurses, not just in the eerie way they move, but also how they are objectified, much like how Mikan is.)
Nekomaru "Never cheat in a sporting event"
St. Elmo's Fire (witches fire not the movie) is an electrical phenom, an omen that precedes a lightning strike. Based on his appearance plus his transformation into the electrical Mechamaru, it also is reference to the electrical pulses that control the beating of the heart. Nekomaru essentially treating a bad-sportsman with the taste of a future where an infirmity forcibly retires them. Originally I had him drag them from underground to slow them to a crawl, but it seemed against Nekomaru's principles.
Gundham "Never harm an animal"
Gundham would probably revel in the exaggeration of his myth; it's what he would do when he was alive. He's one of the more cryptid like, more of an animal than a person anymore, his transformation based on a Rat King. This phenomenon is where several rats get their tails tangled together with dirt creating a ring of trapped rats encircling their knotted tails in the centre. I originally thought to recreate it with hamsters, but given his beloved Devas survived him, I thought keeping it being rats was better.
Nagito "Never throw something useful away"
Nagito is a difficult one since he would find no compunction continuing his test of hope vs despair, much as his role as servant in UDG. The Honest Axe parable has a woodsman drop his old axe into a lake, a river spirit offering him a gold and silver axe asking if those were the axe he dropped. If he refuses he is rewarded, but if he dishonestly accepts he his punished. If you accept Nagito's offer, you admit that you gave up on the item too soon, as a microcosm of giving up hope, you get a taste of his karmic luck as 'reward'.
Nagito probably has a very good idea how to break their bonds as ghosts and allow them to pass on, but he won't give the ultimates the answer so easily.
Chiaki "Never delete someone’s saved game"
Some of you were right on the money, Chiaki was based on Ben Drowned, I was originally going to draw her like the 'elegy of emptiness' link statue but it was so goofy, I went more classic .exe/doki doki style. Like many of the more positive characters, she's not really fit to be an evil spirit, and plus she was never actually a remnant of despair. The ominous foreboding feeling she gives you is a heightening of paranoia that would hopefully steer you away from contacting the other ghosts.
Junko
Is the culmination of everything, the source of every rule.
There's no despair after all if there's no one for her to torment, her vitriol enough to outlast her own death in canon by several games, she's dragged every victim into her purgatory.
Like with the killing game, those she's trapped with her have the chance to 'beat her' but the game is rigged in her favour. She may be unable to manifest unless every rule is broken, but she's a master of manipulation. She's been the one to spread the rumours, so that people actively seek out to 'break' her rules, supernatural happenings being encouraging rather than deterring, making more people tempted to see for themselves.
The ghosts were given just enough autonomy to believe they have agency, when they're trapped in Junko's loop.
If each ghost moved on, she'd have no one give her an endless stream of despair, no hauntings to spur on the thrill seekers/ghost chasers, no reason for all her rules to be actively broken by one person.
She'd be slowly forgotten, slowly dissipate, and essentially disappear.
Originally I had Junko's haunting take place in the principle's office, She would call you over the tannoy, but I chose to make it more ambiguous. The idea was that, were she able to manifest, she was the only truly fatal haunting.
Imagine the despair if they found a dead student in the principle's office.
I just wanted to thank everyone again, I had a lot of fun with this!
It isn't a strict au, so if you wanted to play around with it, go ahead :)
I hardly have a monopoly on ghost aus after all - there are loads of far better thought ones about, so if you liked this I'd recommend checking some out!
#danganronpa#danganronpa ghost au#dangantober#horror fiction#THH#SDR2#thh spoilers#sdr2 spoilers#long post#I do wanna say this was an october drawing/writing challenge#I was fully flying my the seat of my pants#god this took me way longer than I thought lol#I had to retype this TWICE I love tumbl
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S.W.A.T. (CBS Series)
Jim Street x fem!reader
I Didn't Know Where Else to Go
1.2k+ words | fluff | You lose your keys during a rainstorm and can only think of one place to go.
Opposites
1.9k+ words | shy/quiet!reader | fluff | Hondo finds out you're dating someone, but doesn't expect it to be Jim Street, your total opposite.
Do Something!
2.3k+ words | fluff | 20-David is tired of watching you and Street pretend not to be in love with each other, too oblivious to realize your feelings are reciprocated. When you distance yourself from Street, they have to encourage him to do something.
Favorite Woman
1.5k+ words | fluff | Street celebrates you, his girlfriend, daily. On Women's Day, however, he steps up to make you feel special and loved.
Worth the Wait
4.0k+ words | angst to fluff | After too much time hiding your feelings for Street, you worry about him when someone begins targeting police officers. When he returns to HQ at the end of the day, he realizes just how oblivious he's been to both your feelings and his.
Be Professional or Tell the Truth
3.1k+ words | TO!Street x rookie!reader | fluff | You and your TO Jim Street have an instant connection but decide to keep things professional. When you're both injured by bikers, you decide to tell the truth instead.
It's Your Life, But Let Me In
3.8k+ words | angst to fluff | You overhear Chris and Molly giving Street a hard time and ignoring his boundaries. When you encourage him to make his own decisions and remind him that you are with him, he realizes how different you are.
Never You
2.3k+ words | angst to fluff | During a date night with Street, he is targeted by several gunmen. He keeps you safe, but when you distance yourself after, he blames himself for causing the divide and worries about how you will react.
My Fighter
3.9k+ words | angst to fluff | When a serial killer you arrested breaks out of prison, you and your team are tasked with finding him. You lie to the team and meet with the killer, but Street rushes to help you and reminds you why he can't lose you.
Wake Up, I Miss You
1.1k+ words | fluff | Prompt: caressing the other's cheek softly, hoping to wake them up that way?
Pretend For A While
4.5k+ words | TO!Street x rookie!reader | fluff / hurt/comfort | You fall for Street on your first day as a rookie, but it takes a hostage situation and a guilty conscience for Street to realize he feels the same.
Self-Sacrificial
2.7k+ words | SWAT!reader | angst to fluff | You like Street as more than a friend, but think he will never feel the same. When you nearly lose him, you accuse him of not caring about you or anyone else because you can't see the truth.
#fluentmoviequoter#navigation#masterlist#jim street x reader#jim street x fem!reader#jim street#swat cbs
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lucky ❦ luke hemmings
pairing: luke hemmings x partner! reader
description: there's nothing more annoying than being sick, but thankfully luke is there to make you feel better. this was requested with the prompt #8 "i'll kiss away the pain, baby" from my prompt list.
warnings: lots of pet names and FLUFF. and a few curse words.
word count: 1,1k.
a/n: hey there friends! 🌟 sooooo i finished this instead of doing my uni work, oopsie... and this is my first sickfic, so i hope it's okay! it's short-ish but hopefully you'll like it anyway. i really need a luke to comfort me the next time i'm sick 😥 i'll see u again 🧡
You were never sick. Well, maybe never was a bit of a reach. Once in a while you caught the flu, but this time it was different. Your head was burning and you couldn’t see properly. Fever.
Thank god the front door opened and Petunia wiggled to the entryway without barking. It meant one thing. Luke was home. You heard him place his keys on the hallway table and take his shoes and jacket off. You squinted your eyes and groaned. Damn, you loved that man, but could he be quieter?
“What’s going on here bubs?” Luke curiously asked as he sat next to you on the living room couch. You had been laying there since the morning. Ever since you had wished a good studio session to him and he went to do what he did best, being creative.
“Shhh, be more quiet baby”, you whispered as you adjusted your blanket over your legs.
“Oh, shoot, sorry…are you okay?”, his tone changed and his sweet, quiet words echoed through your head. You shook your head no.
“Oh no….Do I need to get you anything? Painkillers? Water? We’ve got your favorite lemonade in the freezer if you’d like”. One thing about Luke was that he took the caretaker role naturally. And a bit too serious at times, but you loved him for it. Before him, you didn’t even know men like him existed.
“Lemonade, please”, you whispered. “Okay, I’ll be here in a sec”, he kissed your temple softly and you closed your eyes.
—❦
You woke up to the sound of Petunia barking and Luke cursing the dog off. “Shh, mama’s not well”. You felt Luke’s body next to yours and opened your eyes just to see him looking at you with his worrisome eyes.
“Hey”, your throat was sore. “What time is it?”.
“It’s 6pm. Didn’t want to wake you up, princess”.
“It’s okay. Am starving. Can we order something?”.
“Of course”. So you ordered some cauliflower soup, ate it whilst watching your comfort tv show and went back to cuddling with Luke on the couch.
“Are you feelin’ any better?”.
“Not really”, you sighed.
“I’ll kiss away the pain, baby”, he peppered light kisses to your cheek, jawline and lastly, your lips. You moved your lips against his, feeling some sort of guilty conscience.
“You do realize you have a chance of gettin’ sick too?”.
“Yes”, Luke looked at you with admiring eyes and a smile that could make even the coldest of hearts melt.
“You’re being reckless”, your voice was hoarse, and a giggle escaped your lips.
“I don’t mind bein’ reckless when it’s with you”, he kissed you again. And just like all of those times before, he was able to capture your heart with a single comment.
“Lemonade?”, he asked and reached for the glass on the coffee table. “Please”, you murmured. After finishing the glass of lemonade, Luke kindly placed it on the table. “Do you want anything else?”, he placed his arm around you. You shuffled closer to him and placed your head on the crook of Luke’s soft neck. “No, this is perfect”.
“Good”, he murmured and caressed your hair.
Luke adjusted the blankets covering your body and fixated his eyes on the tv. And so did you until your eyes couldn’t stay open anymore. So you dozed off again, with Luke softly humming next to you.
"We could leave the Christmas lights up ‘til January
And this is our place, we make the rules
And there’s a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you dear…"
—❦
You woke up again, this time to Luke’s phone ringing. With your eyebrows frowned, you looked at Luke. He mumbled a ‘sorry’ and gave a peck on your hairline. Carefully, he got up from the couch and exited the room. You reached out for your phone on the coffee table. You watched some TikToks on low volume whilst you were petting Petunia, who had been sleeping on the couch for the whole evening. The pupper snuggled closer to you and you placed the phone away, holding her in your arms.
“I see my place has been taken”, Luke entered the living room with an entertained smile plastered on his lips. “That’s what you get when you leave my side”, you pouted.
“Am sorry, baby. It was Michael. He needed an opinion on something. Work stuff. Boring. And he wished you a quick recovery”. You thanked him, and motioned Petunia to move. The dog hopped off lazily from the couch.
“How’s the head?”.
“It’s okay. I am okay. I’mma go to bed”, you gave Luke a tired smile and stood up with the blankets hovering over your body. You began to walk, but your head started to feel dizzy. So you stopped in your tracks and Luke walked closer to you.
“You don’t seem okay”, he stood in front of you and placed his hands against the sides of your face.
“Maybe I exaggerated”, you admitted. “Let’s get you to bed then”, he detached his hands, picked you up in his arms and carried you over to your shared bedroom. He dropped you to the side of the bed, lifting the comforter and you got under the covers. You mumbled him a ‘thank you’ and Luke answered with a sympathetic gaze. You studied him, the man of your dreams, and a thankful smile crept upon your face. He stripped off his day clothes, and shuffled next to you. Petunia came into the room with a grunt and waited for either Luke or you to pick her up.
“Geez, Tunes, will you ever learn?” Luke chuckled, got up from the bed and bent down to pet the dog. He picked her up, and placed the pupper at the foot of the bed. Luke reclaimed his place next to you.
“We need to get her the dog stairs”, you insinuated, to which Luke responded with a ‘definitely’. You snuggled into his chest and could feel his steady breathing on your face. He wrapped his arms around you, resting his chin against your head.
“How did I get so lucky with you?”, you hummed and could hear the tempting sound of the dreamworld calling you.
“I am the one who got lucky here, love”, Luke peppered tender kisses on your hair.
“I’ll take care of you if you get sick because of me”, you promised him.
“But what if you are still sick?”, he pecked your head, and tightened his embrace around you.
“Then we might be fucked”.
“Nah, we won’t be. At least we’d still have each other”, he pointed out. You smiled as you closed your eyes. Despite the burning head and sore throat, this was everything you wanted: Luke’s fingers running through your hair and Petunia snoring in the background all while you were falling asleep.
© 2023 bloodhoundluke.
#luke hemmings imagine#luke hemmings fanfic#luke hemmings x reader#luke hemmings x y/n#luke hemmings x you#luke hemmings fluff#5sos imagine#5sos fluff#5sos fanfiction#my writing
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✨CLICK HERE TO BE ADDED TO MY TAGLIST✨
It’s okay.
After a desperate search, Azriel rescues his friend and fellow member of the Inner Circle. Their reunion prompts some revelations about their shared connection and feelings for one another.
What are we waiting for? (Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three - NSFW)
Azriel has never been very good at talking about his feelings and his mate is no different. When both make assumptions about the other’s intentions, heartbreak and miscommunication ensue.
I knew it the first night that I saw you. (Part One) (Part Two)
When the High Lady’s sister sends a friend to your shop in her stead, you find your thoughts are soon captivated by a certain member of the Inner Circle.
Speaking of forgiveness. (Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three)
A spike of fear down the mating bond has Azriel racing back to the Night Court, terrified by what he’ll find. Meanwhile, the Inner Circle grapples with the fallout of a severe case of mistaken identity.
Low on Hope (Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three) (Part Four)
The youngest of the Archeron sisters went to great lengths to keep her family afloat before her sister went over the wall. The nature of her sacrifice was a secret she vowed never the share. That is, until Feyre and new brother-in-law’s magical abilities spoil her plan to leave the past in the past. When old memories become fresh wounds again, it’s up to a certain Spymaster to help piece Y/N back together.
Careful
Azriel discovers something about his half-human mate that alarms him.
Cover Story (Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three)
When a mission leads him to a secluded island, Azriel recruits a friend and colleague to pose as his mate. Their time spent working together reveals more than they anticipated.
Welcome Home
Azriel comes home late one evening to a surprise from his mate, who has spent the evening reading scary stories.
One More (NSFW)
Azriel is nothing if not patient and his willpower brings you to new heights in bed.
Scary Stories
On a camping trip with the Inner Circle, a spooky tale has you leaning on Azriel for comfort.
Wish Things Were Different (Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three)
You know your mate loves you, but as he and Elain get closer, you begin to wonder if he wishes things had turned out differently.
These Hands
Your mate is thrilled about becoming a father, but his past makes him question whether he’s fit for the role.
Retribution (Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three)
When Azriel’s best friend is kidnapped, he fears he may never get the chance to reveal his true feelings for her.
I Need You (NSFW)
Some playful teasing between you and Azriel turns into something more.
Grounded (Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three) (Part Four)
Azriel meets a stranger in the library and finds the course of his life forever altered.
Take Care
Azriel’s mate hasn’t been herself lately, stirring up old fears for the Shadowsinger. [fluff and angst]
Moving On (Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three) (Part Four)
After loving Azriel in secret for years, you decide it’s time for you to move on.
I’m supposed to protect you.
When a sparring match with your mate goes south, Cassian is left to pick up the pieces with a guilty conscience.
I’d do anything for you.
Cassian will do anything to make his mate happy, even if it means sacrificing his own comfort.
Payback (Part One) (Part Two)
After spending the evening teasing his mate, Cassian finds himself in a compromising position when she seeks revenge.
Poison
A diplomatic mission goes awry, leaving Cassian and his mate stranded in the Illyrian wilderness.
Peace
Cassian and his mate reunite after a long, hard battle and take comfort in one another.
Sleepless in Velaris
Cassian wakes up alone and comes looking for his mate. As usual, he knows just what to do to help her fall asleep.
ACOTAR Writing Circle Masterlist
Missing Piece (Series Index)
(Nessian x Reader) Cassian and Nesta are happily mated and in love, so why do they feel like something is missing? When a newcomer arrives in the City of Starlight, they learn that their bond is not yet complete.
🚫Requests are closed as of 10/01/2022.🚫
#azriel x reader#azriel x oc#cassian x reader#acotar x reader#acotar fanfiction#acotar#ff#masterlist#acotar masterlist
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Darling, I don't wish you well when you ain't with me (I want you crying)
{P.1} {P.2} {P.3}
ᴄ.ᴡ. ɴꜱꜰᴡ, ɪɴꜰɪᴅᴇʟɪᴛʏ, ᴀɢᴇᴅ ᴜᴘ, ᴅᴇɢʀᴀᴅᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ʜᴜᴍɪʟɪᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ᴏᴠᴇʀ-ꜱᴛɪᴍᴜʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ᴏʀᴀʟ ꜱᴇx, ᴅᴏɢɢʏ ꜱᴛʏʟᴇ, ᴘᴜʙʟɪᴄ ꜱᴇx, ᴄʟᴏᴛʜᴇᴅ ꜱᴇx, ʙʀᴇᴇᴅɪɴɢ ᴋɪɴᴋ
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~They make their way down the street, the cool night air refreshing after the warm and cozy ambiance of the restaurant they had just left. As they approach the bar, she can hear the faint sound of music and laughter coming from inside.
She hesitates for a moment before entering, her conscience speaking louder.
"Maybe this isn't such a good idea," she whispered, feeling guilty and ashamed. "I should probably go home."
His hand rested on her shoulder, his touch reassuring. "Come on, it's just a drink," he urged, a playful glint in his eye. "We've still got plenty of catchin’ up to do, and I'm not lettin’ you go that easily."
Her smile was weak, but genuine, grateful for his encouragement. As they entered the bar, the lively atmosphere enveloped them, with music pulsing and conversations overlapping.
They found a cozy booth tucked away in the corner, and he ordered drinks for them both. As they talked, a growing sense of attraction stirred within her, and she couldn't help but feel a hint of fear at what it might mean.
Her mind was in turmoil, torn between the loyalty she felt towards her husband and the undeniable pull she felt towards Vic.
But it was getting hard to ignore the chemistry that crackled between them.
Trying to quiet the rising emotions, she downed the drink he handed her in one gulp, hoping to distract herself from the dangerous path her thoughts were taking.
As she pounds back her drink, she nearly spits it out, struggling to keep it down. "Woo!" Her face scrunches up, and she shakes her head. "Stronger than I expected."
Vic laughs in surprise, his eyebrows raised in both amusement and concern. "It's just a bit of vodka, angel," he teases. "Looks like someone can't handle their liquor."
She swats his arm. "Hey, it's been a while!" She reaches over and takes a smaller, slower sip of his drink. "I don't drink often, let me build up my tolerance back up!."
"You don't drink often? I almost couldn't tell," he says sarcastically, maintaining a straight face. She shoves him and rolls her eyes, prompting him to burst into a loud, joyous laugh.
She finds herself unable to tear her eyes away from him, mesmerized by the way he throws his head back as he laughs, his stunning smile lighting up his face.
She looked away quickly, searching for a distraction from that awful train of thought before her eyes landed on the bar. She stands up with a smile.
"Alright then, challenge accepted! Let's have a few more drinks, and then we'll play a little game. Wait right here!," she says with a mischievous grin, wiggling her eyebrows at him before darting off to the bar. She hears him chuckle behind her and knows he's shaking his head at her antics.
As she walks away, she can feel the weight of his gaze lingering on her, pretending not to notice the way he stares at her ass.
After a few moments, she returns with two more drinks in one hand and a tray of shots in the other.
He looks down at the drinks in front of him and then up at her, waiting for an explanation. She flashes him a quick grin before grabbing her drink and handing him his.
"First, we're going to drink these vodka tonics," she explains, gesturing to the glasses. "Then, we're going to race! There’s seven tequila shots on this tray. Whoever drinks three shots and reaches the seventh wins!"
She claps her hands in excitement, eager to prove him wrong.
With his signature lopsided grin, he stirs his drink and looks at her. "So, whadda I get when I win?" he teases, his eyes sparkling impishly.
She scoffs, settling back down beside him. "If you win," she retorts confidently, a self-assured grin spreading across her face, "you get to pay for these drinks. But when you lose, you'll let me pick up the tab."
He clicks his glass against hers before taking a sip, chuckling. "You're on," he agrees.
They drank their vodka tonics quickly, feeling the warmth spread through their bodies. As she lined up the shot glasses, she couldn't help but feel a little nervous. She had never been good at drinking games, but she wasn't about to let him know that.
Ready?" she asked, looking over at him. He gave her a nod, and she quickly counted down. "Three, two, one, go!"
She can feel his eyes on her as she picks up the first shot glass, feeling the burn of the tequila in her throat as she swallows it down in one gulp. She reaches for the second shot, her hand shaking slightly.
He watches her closely, a knowing smirk on his face. "Careful now," he warns, taking his second shot easily. "Don't wanna burn out too quick."
She ignores him, her competitive streak taking over. She quickly downs the second shot and reaches for the third. She can feel the alcohol hitting her system, making her head spin slightly. But she doesn't slow down, determined to win.
She braces herself and drinks the third shot. Suddenly, she starts to feel dizzy, her vision blurring. She wavers unsteadily, almost dropping the empty shot glass.
He laughs, grabbing the seventh shot and downing it quickly. "Looks like I win," he said, grinning at her smugly as he wiped his mouth.
She glared at him, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks as the alcohol continued to take its toll on her. "You cheated," she slurred, trying to sit up straight and failing miserably.
He chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "I didn't cheat. You're just no good at holding your liquor" he teased.
"I don't believe you," she insisted.
He stifled a laugh and shook his head. "Believe what you want, but I think you've had enough for tonight. Let me get us some water before we get into any trouble."
As she wobbled towards him with a smirk, she whispered in his ear, “I thought you liked trouble, Mr. Chaos”.
As he turns to face her, she realizes how far she's leaned into him and lets out a small, involuntary gasp. He notices and smiles. "That's just how I am around cute girls like you," he says, placing his hand on the cushion behind her.
She laughs and pokes him in the chest playfully. "You always know what to say, charmer." She tries to look away, but he gently grabs her chin, forcing her eyes to meet his once again.
"Just tryin’ to make you feel special, angel," he says, his voice low and husky as he slowly runs his thumb over her lower lip.
Her eyes flickered between his striking blue gaze and his lips, mesmerized by both. "I could get into a lot of trouble if my husband found out I was here with you," she admitted.
He moved his thumb and traced along her jawline, the touch sending shivers down her spine. "Why would he mind?" he asked. "I'm just tryin’ to make sure you have a good time."
She fought to keep her eyes from fluttering shut as his touch grew more tender. "He gets crazy jealous," she breathed.
Vic's smile was warm as he delicately tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "But he doesn't have to know, does he?" he murmured, his breath fanning against her cheek.
Her stomach somersaulted at his words. "I know, but I can't..." Despite her hesitation, she makes no move to pull away from him.
"Then why stop?" Vic urged, his voice low and tempting. "You're clearly enjoyin’ this."
“You’re a bad influence, Victor..” She says, leaning in, leaving only a hair's breadth of distance between their lips.
He smirks, his eyes darkening with desire. "Oh, you have no idea," he replies, his breath hot against her lips as he finally closes the gap between them.
#victor chaos#butters x reader#vic chaos x reader#victor chaos x reader#south park#sp butters#south park x reader
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Prompt: Satoshi gets a little too close to killing one of the Kombat Kids for comfort and Frost tracks him down to confront him/give him a piece of her mind. Go. :)
hehehehehe
I think it would be Cassie, probably, that would piss Frost off the most
Frost: What the FUCK is your problem?!
Satoshi: I'm not going to let anyone stand in my way, Frost, not even you. I will have my revenge.
Frost: I though we were past this.
Satoshi: And I thought you were on my side!
Frost: You STABBED my GIRLFRIEND! She is in the hospital Fighting for her Life right now! She could die, do you understand that?!
Satoshi: Collateral damage
Frost screams and slams him against the wall
Frost: Listen to me, I do not care that you are angry, I do not care that you are Lin Kuei, I Do Not Care that you are my brother. If Cassie dies because of you, I will kill you myself
Satoshi, derisive chuckle: She really means that much to you? You'd betray your own clan for an outsider who cares more about the latest pop song that she does about kombat? You'd betray your brother?
Frost: Yes.
Satoshi, shocked that she didn't hesitate:........
Frost: You betrayed me first, no matter what I do to you, my conscience will be clear.
Satoshi: Even if you killed me?
Frost: Satoshi Hasashi has been dead for years, I'm not gonna feel guilty about putting him to rest.
Satoshi doesn't know how to respond to that so he falls silent as she tosses him down into the dirt
Frost: If she dies, you die
And with that, she vanishes into the night
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Sweet lies: Chapter 9**
pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader
summary: you have to face a full afternoon with Mia, Emily and, more surprisingly, Andrea, but it turns out to be an enlightening time. Meanwhile, you and Frankie start to need more from each other.
word count: 6k
WARNINGS: face sitting, handjob, cowgirl (unsafe)
AGELESS/EMPTY BLOGS & MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED!
A/N: huge thank you to @cheshire-noir for beta reading this mess, ily. Comments & reblogs are always appreciated 💕
gif: @trashcora
series masterlist | AO3
If there was an award for ignorance, you’d be certain to win first prize.
Within the next three weeks, you have avoided Frankie like the plague. And it worked; the more you ignored, the better you felt. You needed time to process everything and to reach to a realistic conclusion, and having wandering hands with a man who was more or less still committed to another woman wasn’t the way to go.
But, with you being you and carrying some sort of karmic debt towards the universe which clearly has beef with you, the call you receive on a slightly warmer Friday evening in March takes you aback.
“Hey, are you free tomorrow?” Andrea’s surprisingly excited voice asks.
“I think so. Why?”
“Emily and Mia are coming over for dinner and drinks. You know, a girl’s night in. Wanna join us?”
The invitation leaves you dumbfounded.
“You still with me?” she asks.
“Yeah, yeah, sorry. Overthinking.”
“Been there.”
You both giggle, albeit the huge gap in your stomach.
“So what do you say? Are you in?”
Andrea probably needs friendly shoulders for support, and as far as she’s concerned, you are a potential friend to her. But the invitation might turn out to be something even better: an opportunity. This could be your chance to come clean to her, explain it all and hope you won’t be found murdered the next day.
“I’m in,” you smile.
“Great!”
“Do you need me to bring anything?”
“I got everything we could need, but if you feel like bringing wine or anything, no problem at all. I’m sure we’ll find great use for it.”
You giggle. “Okay. I’ll see what I can do.”
“I’ll text you the address.”
“Great. I’ll see you ladies tomorrow.”
When you hang up, you already know the kind of wine you’ll bring with you. You need something with a big percentage of alcohol. If this would be pre-drinking before a rave, you’d just be bringing a bottle of vodka to take the edge off of everyone, but given that Andrea will probably be cooking, things are likely to be a little classier than what’s going on inside your head.
Another night of restless sleep awaits you, and you can’t do much of anything the next day. After all, you are about to have dinner with the woman whose man you’ve slept with twice, and have been in love with for a decade. It’s not an easy conversation to have, but it needs to be had. And afterwards, no matter the outcome, you will talk to Frankie as well. The mess you’ve created has to be cleaned up.
You stare at the address Andrea texted you last night, realizing it’s not far from your own apartment. Five blocks away. So you decide to just walk, take advantage of the brisk air that surrounds you in the early spring. You carry with you a bottle of red wine, an expensive one, in hopes of this being a way to loosen up everyone before you have your big talk with Andrea.
You think of her in ways you normally wouldn’t. You wonder how often she’s cried herself to sleep since the break from Frankie. You wonder how often she tried calling or texting him, or thought about him in general—particularly alone at night. And you wonder what exactly prompted her to suggest the break in the first place.
Has she done something similar? Is she feeling guilty about it and needs a time-out to think about everything?
Either way, you want to find out something tonight. Anything that might ease your conscience, really.
You ring the doorbell, smelling food already. The apartment building is very nice and modest, as you fleetingly notice, standing outside the door. Then, you’re met with Andrea’s benevolent and rather radiant face.
“Hi, come on in!”
She’s wearing an apron over jeans and a blouse, and you sneak a gaze at her once you enter the apartment. She’s got no makeup on, and she looks stunning still. But there also seems to be a certain sadness in her eyes. You only know that because you see it in your eyes, too.
Mia and Emily are already there, nursing their glasses of white wine, but they get up to hug you.
“I brought some apple pie and red wine,” you say, exposing them from the bag over your shoulder.
“Mhmmm, yum,” Emily coos, taking a whiff.
“Thank you so much! You can put them on the counter.”
You do as you’re told while the girls inspect your gifts. “Whoa! This is an expensive bottle of wine!” Mia exclaims.
“Seems like a good night to open it,” you smile.
“Tell you what, if this thing with Will doesn’t work, I might call you up because you sure know how to treat a girl right.”
You raise your eyebrows, then chuckle, the sound reverberating across the place. It’s pretty spacious and modest; you walk towards Andrea, willing to make yourself useful, all while Mia pours you a glass of white wine.
“Anything I can do?” you ask Andrea.
“It’s alright, I’m almost done. Thank you.”
“Homemade lasagna and wine? You’re a treat.”
“Barely here for a few minutes and there’s already too many flirtatious comments. Save it for your partners, ladies,” Andrea teases.
“The guys aren’t here tonight.”
“Amen to that.”
“Don’t get me wrong, I love them, but sometimes they can be a bit too—“
“Testosterone-y?”
All three girls turn to look at you with an amused face.
“How on earth did you and Rose survive them?” Emily asks. “In high school, no less.”
“Well, we ignored them a lot. Then again, Benny was the one with a lot of flirtatious comments to make, so we mostly ignored him.”
Emily chuckles. “Figures.”
“They talked a big game, but they were innocent. When it came to doing anything, they were wusses.”
“Figures,” Mia giggles in her wine glass.
You take a sip of your wine as well, allowing it to travel through your stomach, veins and body, warming up your extremities.
“I really like the place, by the way,” you say cautiously. “Is it a rental?”
“It’s my cousin’s place, actually. She’s letting me stay here until things pick up. Hopefully. She’s away for the weekend, which I figured is the perfect opportunity for some girl talk.”
“Speaking of which, what’s going on between you and Frankie?” Emily intervenes. “Any updates?”
Andrea inhales, the question weighing heavily on her. You can tell she’s at a crossroads of some sort, though you are uncertain as to what it is about.
“Not really,” she finally answers with a big sigh.
Seeing her struggle, half there and half not, you go to her side and pick up the plates and utensils, smile, and start laying them on the dinner table.
“We haven’t spoken since we took the break,” she admits. “It was better this way, but I think now… I miss him.”
“Of course you do! God, I’d go crazy if Will and I were ever in this situation,” Mia says. “It’s only natural when you love someone this much.”
Andrea remains silent, and you notice that immediately. You don’t make much of it, but you do take notice. It might not be anything, while it may be something. Or maybe it’s just your mind, desperately clinging onto any hope that this messy situation will resolve itself without real intervention.
Frankie might’ve been a coward all those years ago, but you are one now too.
“Okay, we don’t have to talk about this tonight,” you intervene. “It’s a girl’s night. We’re here to have amazing food, curtesy of Andrea, drink wine and laugh.”
“She’s absolutely right. No boy talk tonight,” Andrea smiles in agreement.
“Maybe some boy talk,” Mia grins devilishly.
“What do you have in mind?”
“Hmm. Let’s see, how about… what’s the best sex you’ve ever had?”
The other girls, including you, make a face, although visibly intrigued by the premise.
“No preparation, just straight to it, huh? Not sure we should disclose such sensitive information though,” you say.
“Come on! It’s good fun.”
“You forget I don’t have any experience with any of the guys.”
Mia frowns. “Really? So you and Santi never—?”
You roll your eyes, taking another sip of your wine. “First of all, I am too sober for this conversation, and second of all, no, we never went that far.”
“I would’ve at least fooled around a bit,” Mia shrugs. “Lord knows that’s one of my very first experiences with Will.”
“Okay, but you have to have a best sex story.”
“What if I don’t?”
The statement makes all the girls stare at you momentarily, the silence installing itself in between the four of you.
“Wait, you’ve never—are you—?” Mia dares ask, realizing she might’ve overstepped her boundaries. “If you are, it’s totally cool.”
“No, no. It’s just… I don’t think I’ve ever had that kind of uh… mind-blowing sex you keep replaying when you’re in a dry spell and stuff.”
You gulp, hoping there is no transparency about yourself as you make that claim. For safety measures, you avoid eye contact with Andrea in the meantime.
“Never?” Emily checks, blushing herself.
“I’m guessing if I were to ask either of you…”
“Yeah, gonna have to go with Benny. The man’s a wild card in the sack.”
You purse your lips together, hoping all of this information will be erased by tomorrow.
“Will might be stoic and all, but let me tell you—“
“In as little detail as you can, please,” you smile.
There is flustered laughter shared amongst the four of you. “So Benny and Will, without hesitation,” you recap.
“Yes.”
“Andy?”
All eyes turn to Andrea, with the latter inhaling deeply, then exhaling.
“It is safe to assume it’s Frankie, right?”
“Of course.”
You drink from your wine, avoiding eye contact with her, even though your stomach nearly chews itself from all the pressure and adrenaline running wild in your body. You’re unsure, but you think you might’ve detected hesitation on Andrea’s part, or at least a guilt-filled sip of wine as she said that. Something in you tells you that it can’t be just pre-wedding jitters that made Andrea suggest that break.
You know that if it were you, you’d never want a break from Frankie, ever. Even under tremendous stress.
“He can get very into it,” Andrea grins, her cheeks flushed. “He’s still Frankie, so there’s laughter sometimes and all that, but other times… especially when he goes down on you. He’s so into it, you nearly black out every time.”
“No way!”
“Swear to God.”
While Mia and Emily exclaim and cheer in the most appreciative manner, you do your best to not choke on the wine. Memories of Frankie’s mouth devouring you overcome you, and your cheeks get just as flushed.
Argument could be made that you’re rather using the moment of bonding to your advantage before you give the strike, but the truth is, you just want things to go well before you can steal a moment of privacy with Andrea and confess your sins. You know Frankie is struggling a lot right now, at least you think he is, and it’s likely a little more time will pass until he takes matters into his own hands and confesses.
The feminist in you wants to get to it first.
“What’s going on with Rose and Santi?” Andrea asks cheekily sometime after the third glass of wine. “They seem to have hit it off.”
“Oh, they really hit it off. Went over to Rose’s place last week to invite her for a spontaneous coffee and heard sounds I’d much rather forget.”
Andrea chuckles. “You know how it is when you first get together with someone. All that tension, laughter and all that.”
You gulp, feeling your throat drier than when you began drinking, so you finish your drink, ensuring you remain on the second glass.
“Haven’t you ever had someone like that?” she asks you boldly. “Someone who gets your heart racing so fast you doubt you’re even breathing? Someone with whom you’d unleash your nastiest and neediest sounds?”
Again you gulp, purposely holding your breath for as long as you can.
“I hope I can have that someday,” you say. “I hope I can freely release my nastiest, neediest sounds one day without having to hold back, or… fearing that I shouldn’t.”
Mia and Emily giggle, but Andrea only smiles at you, the mimic fairly bittersweet. You’re pretty sure you’re outing yourself with those not-so-cryptic words, but so far Andrea remains a wonderful hostess.
Rose’s words coo in your head now: “You won’t say that after you try being indecent once or twice in your life.” Oh, but you have been indecent; twice now, even thrice, and while it may make you feel alive, it also makes you guilt-riddled. It’s not technically cheating, but it’s not exactly clean, either. Andrea might still choose to return to Frankie, by the looks of it, and when that will happen, all of this would’ve been just a big, horrible mistake you will have to live with for the rest of your life.
The topic of love and lust, you avoid as much as you can for the next couple of hours while the girls happily exchange such information and get tipsy. You dare to have a third glass of wine, but that is where you cut yourself off. You do not need another drunken encounter with a certain someone or regrettable drunken choices.
You watch bemusedly as Mia and Emily sneak in the rest of the wine bottle to go to the balcony and giggle over their respective partners, which leaves you and Andrea alone. If there was ever any chance, this is it. So you take a deep breath, steadying yourself, and initiate the much dreaded conversation.
“Can I ask you something? It’s a bit personal,” you warn.
“Of course.”
“Why did you want to take a break from Frankie? You guys seem so happy together.”
Andrea looks at you, her face dropping in the slightest, and she puts her glass away.
“Before I got into medical school, I was a bit of a wild card. Both of my parents are esteemed people with big reputations, intimidating… there was a lot of pressure on me, so I lashed out. Drinking, partying, sleeping around… haven’t exactly made the right choices. But I was interested in medicine, so when I told them that I wanted to go to medical school, they were thrilled. They’ve made their terms pretty clear: school, fellowship, getting my life together, and then finding someone nice, get married, settle down with a good reputation and a wonderful husband. Or wife. They were so desperate to see me settled down that they were okay with even that. If you knew my parents, you’d know how serious that is.”
You giggle, putting your glass away too.
“As faith would have it, I met Frankie during my first years in medical school. I was working at a bar to pay some of my tuition off We instantly became friends, and I liked him. I’ve grown to love him. I learned to love him. And I still do. He’s warm and kind and sweet… everything a good, real man should be.”
“Then what…?”
You fail to see the point, until you finally do. You see it all over Andrea’s face, and in that moment, the sympathy you feel for her aches as much as you do.
“This is not what you really want, is it?” you whisper.
“I know it’s what I should want, because I do love him,” she replies. “But it’s just not quite… right, you know? Does any of this make even the slightest sense? Without me sounding like a horrible person?”
You nod. “He’s not the big love of your life like your parents have advertised. He’s not that feeling of… home, not really. Love should feel like you’re coming home, in all of its coziness and warmth.”
“Yes! So you know what I’m talking about.”
“I have a slight idea.”
Andrea smiles at you, seemingly a little eased, but it only grows your restlessness and anxiety.
“I’ve done some mistakes in the past, and I have done some recent mistakes too,” she says, voice breaking. “I am by no means proud of them, but… I will make things right. I’m just afraid it might be too late. I think I should stick this out, see it through. My parents were over the moon about me and Frankie and they practically set the whole engagement up. So doing this… it’s the right thing.”
Your first instinct is to grab her hand, squeeze it and thus reassure her, and Andrea seems baffled as you do so. But you don’t pull away. You want her to know that you do not mean to hurt her, in any way. Even if it’s through one simple touch.
“It’s not the right thing if it has you feeling this way,” you tell her. “It’s not, because this is not how you want things to be. If anything, it’s… unfair. But—do you want to see this through?”
Just as she smiles brightly at you, you see her face change, causing you more nervousness.
“I have to,” she answers, though you have difficulty believing her. “My parents can be very intimidating, as I said. And if this wedding doesn’t take place in June… I’ll be that wild teenager again, incapable of making the proper choices.”
“You aren’t.”
“Can I ask you something?”
You gulp, then nod. You’ve never felt more paralyzed in your whole life.
“Frankie told me about you, how close you guys were in high school,” she starts. “I can only assume he fucked up things.”
“Why?”
“The way he was so determined to avoid even looking at you? That is textbook guilty Frankie Morales. He’s like a puppy, either his eyes get too big and wet that you can’t resist them and he clings to you, or he avoids you altogether.”
You break into laughter, much to your own surprise. “Sounds about right.”
“So what did he do?”
“He uh… he stopped talking to me a few months after I moved abroad. No warning, nothing. He just… left.”
“That must’ve hurt like hell. I’m sure you care about him very much.”
“I did.”
“And now?”
You falter, afraid once again that you are painfully obvious. But maybe it’s for the best. Maybe this is the push you need.
“I still care about him,” you confess. “It doesn’t just go away.”
“I figured as much.”
“Andrea… I’m sorry.”
She stares at you like you’ve gone completely crazy, and maybe you did, but you need at least one win for today. You need at least the apology to come out of your mouth, otherwise you won’t ever forgive yourself.
“I am so sorry,” you repeat, eyes teary.
“What are you apologizing for?” she asks with a little adorable chuckle.
“Just… I’m sorry. Sometimes I care too much. That’s why I like to keep people at bay, it’s easier. But I do care. I care so much, it—it haunts me.”
The way she stares at you while you’re on the verge of mental collapse is more than just sympathetic. It’s understanding. You’re waiting for her to explode, to confront you or anything similar because there is no possible way she does not intuit, in the slightest, what you’re talking about, but the reaction never comes.
But you do get something you wouldn’t have thought of. Andrea leans in and hugs you, and a tear rolls down your cheek in spite of your best efforts to conceal it. You’re in too much shock to speak, but it might be for the best right now. You relish into the hug, reciprocating, crying silently.
When you make eye contact with her again, she wipes your cheek, and you tremble.
“Why are you crying?” she asks, like your reaction is the one that’s ridiculous.
“I am not an evil person. I don’t mean harm, I don’t want to hurt anyone. I didn’t want it to happen this way, not at all. I should’ve stopped it earlier, way earlier. I am so sorry. If caring for someone makes you an idiot, I am the biggest idiot on this planet.”
Andrea hugs you again, rubbing your back gently in the process. You hadn’t expected that reaction out of you, but you suppose that all of what you’ve been hiding has been so bottled up, it was bound to be released under one form or the other.
“Sounds like you’ve got a lot on your plate,” she tries to coax you.
“A smidge.”
You both laugh, in spite of everything that’s eating at you, and she wipes your cheeks again, staring at you in the most serious way.
“You can’t blame yourself for caring about someone,” she says, and you instantly nod your head.
“Andrea, it’s more than that. It’s—haunting. It’s consuming me.”
“Love makes us all idiots. But it’s not a crime to care, even like this.”
You try to clear your head, and you downright stare at her, trying to see if the nonsensical stuff you’ve muttered so far makes any sense for her.
“I don’t think you understand what I’m getting at here,” you say, heart in your throat.
Andrea smiles, and it is the most bittersweet gesture you have ever seen in your life.
“It’s okay,” she says, leaving you dumbfounded.
“It’s not! Frankie and I—“
She holds your hands, looking right at you. “You don’t have to say it.”
Your eyes widen in panic. Blood goes cold in your veins, and your whole body freezes “You know?”
“Not know know, but Frankie’s spent too much time and energy into making sure he’s not even sitting around you for me not to guess that something’s up. You guys were best friends in high school. Things couldn’t have turned out so bad that you were this distant.”
“Andrea—“
“Don’t. We’re not together right now. We’re separated.”
“I know, but still…”
“I know Frankie, and sometime soon, he’s gonna burst through that door and ramble on about… whatever it is.”
You frown, shaking your head. You’re more confused than before; this doesn’t feel like relief. It feels more puzzling and trickier than what you’ve been dealing with so far.
“How the hell are you so composed and down to earth right now?” you ask her.
Andrea doesn’t respond. That, in return, brews potential answers in your mind, ones that you do not want to confront her about. This is a conversation to be had between partners, and your part is more or less done, in spite of its anti-climactic result.
Either she’s the coolest person on this planet, or there’s something even worse in the middle.
“You guys should really see the sky, it’s full of stars!” Emily announces all of a sudden.
A while after that, you’re all on the balcony, admiring Boston’s skyline, clear and filled with nothing but stars. There’s not much you say after that; but your mind, your restless mind, it spins and works overtime, filled with endless questions.
Quite frankly, you’re surprised at yourself. Sitting here, in front of this door, at this hour, it also feels cheap, but you’ve practically gotten that boulder off your chest, and now you’re guided solely by your emotions. You’ve never truly acted on impulse, especially not when it came to how you are feeling, but now seems a good time as any.
You knock several times, waiting restlessly. When the door finally opens and you’re greeted by Frankie’s fluffy, messy hair and his puzzled gaze, you brace yourself. You walk right by him, inside of the apartment that he shared with Andrea less than two months ago, and you’re feeling both bold and insane.
“I lied,” you open your speech, staring right back at a very confused Frankie.
“What?”
“You saw right through me. I can’t lie to you, I never could. I could lie to everyone but you.”
Frankie braces himself, half curious as to where you’re headed with all that, and half dumbfounded already.
“So here it is,” you say, advancing to him. “I do love you. I’ve loved you since I was eighteen years old, and I am damn sure I will love you when I will be seventy eight. You are the love of my life. You are the reason why none of the relationships or flings or flirts that I have had in the past ten years have worked. I don’t blame you, or even myself. It’s… chemistry. It doesn’t just go away. And believe me, I—I have tried. Oh, how I’ve tried. I have tried… so fucking hard, it exhausted me. It drained me, mentally and emotionally. Loving you is both the best and worst thing that could’ve happened to me. So I am here, telling you that I love you with every fiber of my being because I know you love me too. And because I want you to make an informed decision.”
He frowns, hung onto every word you just spewed at him ever so passionately and intensely.
“I want you to have all the facts before you decide how the rest of your life will go,” you continue, breathless yourself. “Which is why I’m asking you—“
“To choose you.”
You stare at each other, emotions vibrant in your chests.
“No,” you tell him sharply, shakily. “I am asking you to man up, get your shit together and talk to Andrea. We can’t keep doing this, not like this. We can’t pretend it doesn’t mean anything because it does.”
“I know.”
His voice is soft and understanding, and that in return breaks you in unexpected ways. You reckon, at this moment, he’s just as overwhelmed as you are, if not more.
“Talk to her,” you resume. “Because each time you leave, you chip a little more at my heart and I’m not sure how much more she can handle. Every time you walk out the door, away from me, you find a new way to hurt me, and I have to relive it all over again.”
“I never wanted that. It kills me to do it, I just—“
“I know, I get it. I do. What I said before, all of it… it’s true. And I only said it because tonight was weird and emotional as fuck, and I am done hiding and lying and pretending like none of it was ever real. It hurts me, it hurts you, and it hurts Andrea too.”
“I know. I had to go, though. Last time we—I had to.”
“And I understand that. But I need you to understand me, too. I’m not a homewrecker or a cheater. Neither are you.”
Frankie is barely breathing by this point, even less so when he feels your breath on his face, your presence both soothing and startling.
“Andrea and I are separated now,” he mutters, feeling his mental faculties weaken with each second spent in your presence.
“I know. But it doesn’t really diminish what we’re doing here.”
“You—you control me.”
You back away momentarily, examining his face with dismay. “Don’t be ridiculous,” you nearly mock him.
“You do,” Frankie pushes. “You absolutely fucking do. I belong to you. You think I don’t want to be a better man? You think that I don’t want to dedicate myself completely to Andrea, to our engagement and our life together? You don’t think I want to be the honorable man you left?”
You snicker, feeling the pinnacle of the evening finally settling in at its most emotional moment.
“I didn’t leave you. It was the other way around, if you’ve forgotten.”
“I could never forget the worst thing I’ve ever done! Fuckin’ Pope won’t let me forget it, but he has no fucking clue that I am my own worst enemy, and nothing he could ever tell me about that decision to cut you out of my life could compare to the hatred that I have for myself. Nothing, ever.”
You watch him breathless, eyes teary once more, but not from regret. Not this time.
“I love you,” Frankie mutters, clinging onto your hands like he’s drowning and they’re a life vest. “I am so in love with you, you have no idea. I am so sorry for being too much of a coward to tell you back then, but I am telling you now, at the worst possible time… I love you. You’re the love of my life. My heart’s so full of you, I can’t really call it my own anymore. My every feeling is controlled by the look on your face, by the sound of your voice and the way you breathe. I, I for one… I can’t breathe when you’re not here. Feels like I’ve been holding my breath and drowning for the past ten years.”
“Francisco…”
The moment your forehead touches his, you know you’re a goner. But you both need this, you both need to feel this moment as deeply as the words cutting you.
“In two months you’ve managed to bring me back to life and destroy me at the same time,” he breathes. “I can’t sleep, I’m—I’m useless without you. I watch for you, I exist for you. I wanna just… be free. Be free with you.”
“So do it,” you say, your touch featherlight on his cheek. “Prove that everything you just told me is true. I don’t wanna hide, I don’t wanna break Andrea’s heart, and I don’t wanna sleep with you in a hurry, with our pants barely down.”
“I’ll make things right. I’ll make things right by you, by her, by everyone. I fucking swear.”
He cups your cheeks, pulling you in and simply holding you. When you gaze at him, you notice the tears in his eyes, the exasperation in them, all of it. You crumble on the spot.
“I told Andrea,” you say.
He frowns in the slightest. “You did?”
“Kind of. It was very weird. Still not sure she knew what I meant, but she seemed sure the two of you would talk soon. But I did, anyway. Now it’s your turn.”
He nods frantically, leaning in to press a chaste kiss on your lips that you know you should be rejecting, but God, it feels so soft and caring you can’t help it. You can’t push away, not anymore; you simply can’t, not for the life of you.
So you kiss him tenderly, like all the time in the world is at your feet. You kiss him deeply, your mouth a hot furnace emanating sheer desperation albeit the rather gentle moment. He feels it, too; he feels it all through the way your body is glued to his, and he finally allows himself to live in the moment, to enjoy this moment in all of its inhibitory and needy glory.
He lets himself fall on the couch, with you atop of him, your hair tingly over his face and your warm breath a gentle awakening that yes, this is in fact happening, and yes, he’d been granted a second chance to make things right—even if it’s complicated and messy. He lets your hands roam over his body, relishing in the way they settle right above his crotch and the tantalizing way you make eye contact with him. He gives you no indications as to what his intentions are, and yet he is still shook when you seemingly read his mind.
Frankie watches in a blurry haze as you dispose of the clothes that cover up your upper half, realizing that he’s never actually seen you naked. He can’t help the appreciative sigh which leaves his watering mouth, nor can he help the way his calloused hands lift you up halfway in an attempt to help you undress completely. Then, you return the favor and help him undress as well, your emotions all over the place as you gaze at the marvelous body now exposed before you.
Frankie instantly begins to press kisses over your neck and collarbones, and, since the day has been weird and challenging enough, you reach below, wrapping your hand around his cock and watching his face contort in mixtures of pleasure and pain alike.
His moans are growing with each stroke you give him, and you are absolutely enamored by the way he looks and sounds. You still don’t feel well about the whole situation, given that it remains unclear, but then why does this feel so incredibly satisfying?
He’s trying his hardest to stay conscious, but when you lean down below to play with his balls, he grunts louder than ever before, eyes closed and head backwards in the most forbidden ecstasy.
You don’t get through with it, though; next thing you know, Frankie’s hands grip the flesh of your thighs, shifting you so that your core is on his face. You hold your breath, panicking in the slightest. You’ve never done this before and you’re not sure you’re capable of handling it.
“Frankie—“
“It’s okay. I got you.”
Breathless, you watch him press you all the way onto his face. You let out an exceptionally loud moan, much to your own surprise, the sensation of his tongue lapping at your folds unlike what you’ve felt before. From this angle, as your cunt rests on his whole face, it feels like he’s drinking straight from you. You can feel him everywhere, from your cunt, all the way to your thighs and the way he’s grabbing them and the way his cock is resting hard against his stomach. Heat spreads dangerously under your skin, nesting in your veins as his mouth diligently eats you out. You think of how hungry and insatiable he is for you, how utterly needy, and you damn near lose your mind.
The little voice at the back of your head returns with the same famished more. You need more, you need… him, completely. So you rip your own pleasure away from your body, rubbing down his body till your hand curls around his cock and guides it to your soaked entrance.
That first push through your walls is maddening. You both moan as you start moving in circles, having Frankie watch you, absolutely mesmerized. He holds you closely, and after a little while he even reaches to your face to kiss you. It’s such a rush, being inside of you and kissing you, holding you so close. In this moment, as he starts to thrust upwards to meet with the movements of your hips, he never wants to leave you or see you go, ever again. All he wants to know is the taste of your lips, the heat of your pussy and the unilateral breaths as you try to steady yourself while you’re on top of him.
You can finally feel the day’s tension weighing heavily on you, residing deep within your bones. Because now you finally allow yourself to let it all go, and when you feel your muscles contracting, your walls fluttering around Frankie, your mind suddenly goes blank with a peculiar clarity.
You come with a loud cry, and so does Frankie, mere seconds after you. He helps you ride out your orgasm by pressing his torso to yours, kissing you messily in between. You then cup his cheeks, staring at him with the goofiest smile on your face.
“Stay,” he asks you. “Just tonight, till it all blows over.”
Frankie’s barely moving inside of you, but he still is nonetheless, and it’s definitely impacting his decision-making skills at this point.
“Okay,” you concede, just as he’s pulling out with a slight grunt.
You kiss him sweetly, the seal of your lips pressed together a promise of a better tomorrow.
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#frankie morales#frankie morales x reader#frankie morales x you#frankie morales fanfiction#frankie morales fic#frankie morales smut#francisco morales x reader#francisco morales x you#francisco morales fanfiction#francisco morales fic#francisco morales smut#frankie morales x f!reader#frankie morales x female reader#francisco morales x f!reader#francisco morales x female reader#triple frontier#triple frontier fanfiction#triple frontier fic#pedro pascal#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal fic#pedro pascal smut#sweet lies series
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June of Doom Day #21
| Memory Loss |
June of Doom Prompt List
"Oh Superhero..."
Superhero sighed as they felt arms wrap around them from behind, a chin resting on their shoulder. "You're thinking too hard..."
Hero's tone was light and playful, but Superhero could hear the concern there. They wanted to know what Superhero was thinking so they could help.
But Superhero couldn't tell them.
How were you supposed to explain to your romantic partner and closest friend that they'd once been a villain? One who they'd kidnapped and who's memory they'd wiped? One who they'd spent the last year lying to to try and get them to properly reform?
And now that they'd succeeded, that it weighed so heavily on their conscience that they couldn't look at their partner without feeling guilty?
"Sorry," Superhero sighed. Sorry for everything. "Just... there's that new Supervillain case that's been stressful."
"Well," Hero hugged them closer. "Is there anything I can help you with?"
Superhero had been trying to keep Hero and Supervillain as far away from each other as possible, not wanting old experiences with Supervillain to possibly trigger Hero's erased memories. Supervillain and Villain had been close, and if anything was going to bring back Hero's memories, it would be them.
So Superhero had made sure Hero worked on every case except for Supervillain's. They made sure Hero was always kept too busy with other things whenever Supervillain became a problem again.
Superhero shook their head. "I think I've got it, it's just overwhelming."
"I'm sorry, darling." Hero rested their head against Superhero's, smiling faintly. "I'm sure you'll get them once and for all."
And hopefully not try and do a memory wipe on them. Villain thought, knowing they shouldn't say that part out loud.
#yea yea trope as old as time but its fun#hero x villain#villain x hero#juneofdoom#heroes and villains#hero x villain community#writing#writing snippet#starry-night-author#superhero#hero#superhero x hero#hero x superhero#superhero x villian#villain x superhero#supervillain#villain
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Sterek Fic Rec - December 2022. Is it still December? Yes, for about 5 more hours, oops! Here is the final monthly rec list for the year. I hope everyone is doing something nice to bring in the new year (snuggling into bed absolutely counts!).
Many times, Many ways by Jmeelee (1/1 | 3K | Mature)
He turned around and stormed toward his Jeep. Derek called out his name, but Stiles flipped him off over his shoulder. He jabbed the key into the ignition, roared the engine, and smoked the tires as he peeled out of the parking lot, but not before he cranked down the glass and screamed at Derek from the driver’s side window, “Merry Christmas, motherfucker!”
OR
Five times Stiles and Derek ruined Christmas, and one time they fixed it.
Build A Wolf by PalenDrome (nerdherderette) (1/1 | 5K | Teen)
Derek is a romantic. He dreams of finding his mate, of connecting with that special someone who will make his heart swoon.
[Excerpt]:
"Who says I need to be in a relationship to be happy?" Derek asks, his hackles rising. Besides, Boyd has it all wrong. Derek has Die Hard on his Christmas queue.
Yippee ki yay.
Boyd holds up both hands. "Not me. If you want to be a bachelor forever, I'm not one to judge."
"But I am," Erica says. "You don't date anymore. Hell, when's the last time you even got laid? Which would also be fine, except it's not, because you're miserable and it's obvious that's not what you really want."
Sometimes Derek has a hard time following Erica's logic. Unfortunately, this is not one of those moments.
"It doesn't matter," he says, digging the excess rice out from his wrap. "I'm better off alone."
Mint Condition by fairytalesandfolklore (1/1 | 955 | Teen)
He checks the clock, frowning in concern. Stiles had said he was going to change and that he'd be right back, but that was over twenty minutes ago. He's about to get up and go check on him, when the all-too-familiar tune of his least favorite song in the entire world starts playing on the stereo, and out comes Stiles wearing nothing but a jauntily perched Santa hat and a pair of the tiniest shorts Derek has ever seen — bright red satin to match his hat — and when Stiles twirls around to give Derek the full effect, he can make out the words naughty elf emblazoned across his asscheeks.
Derek can do little more than stare open-mouthed as Stiles saunters toward him, sucking on the end of a candy cane in what he probably imagines is a seductive way, shaking his ass in time to the music — which, ugh. (As far as Derek is concerned, if hell had a soundtrack, it'd be an endless loop of Santa Baby…but it's Stiles, so he'll make an exception.) Overall, the effect is actually quite charming, and Derek would be lying if he said it wasn't doing something for him.
And then Stiles starts talking.
lube and determination by bleep0bleep (2/2 | 4K | Explicit)
It's a holiday classic: homesick boy wants to make a pumpkin pie while studying abroad, boy realizes the only place to find vegetable shortening is a sex shop, and boy makes fool of himself in front of other boy.
Little talks by Vendelin (1/1 | 5K | Mature)
“Your favourite is here,” Danny says, smirking. “I tried to steal him away by giving him some extra attention, but he just looked uncomfortable.”
Stiles snorts, though he’s secretly pleased by his regular rejecting Danny. “He always looks a bit uncomfortable. I bet he’s married with a kid and a permanent guilty conscience when he’s here.”
It had been quite the surprise for Stiles to realise that he had a regular. A pretty young, hot regular, on top of that.
In which Stiles is a stripper, and Derek is the always-polite regular at the club where he works.
Depth of Field by midnitekween (1/1 | 7K | Explicit)
Stiles loves taking pictures of his pack.
Kiss It Better, Kiss It Back Together by crossroadswrite (1/1 | 3K | General)
For the tumblr prompt: stiles is cursed by a witch to forget the person he loves the most so everyone thinks it's Lydia but it's not and the only way to get the memories back is through a kiss
i see forever in your eyes by hufflepuffbaby (1/1 | 1K | Teen)
Stiles looked at his big bad Alpha, with his blush and his thumbhole sweater, and Stiles found he didn’t care if it was a bad idea, he was going to relationship the fuck out of Derek for as long as he was allowed.
Flufftober Day 5 : "Oh, no, you're a morning person"
Make You See It by sparkandwolf (thatnerdemryn), thatnerdemryn (1/2 | 2K | Mature)
Stiles didn’t say anything and Derek was grateful for leaving him speechless.
“Your mind, the way it pieces together every last puzzle piece, the way it connects dots that the rest of us didn’t even know were there, it’s--” Derek let out a breath against Stiles’ ear and reveled in the chill it sent through Stiles. “You are the most powerful of all of us.”
no matter how far away you roam by elisela (1/1 | 2K | General)
Stiles regrets not getting a tree.
He hadn’t been feeling very festive—decorations were reminders that he was spending the holidays alone, so he’d decided not to put them up, but now it’s Christmas Eve and there’s not even a strand of lights around the room to cheer him up. Watching Die Hard hadn’t worked, neither had The Grinch, and Derek hadn’t answered his phone the last three times Stiles had called him today.
It’s 7:34pm on Christmas Eve, and Stiles is ready to give it up and call it a night.
princecharmingwinks special mention (Oh my gosh I love the smut in this and the humour and everything else.)
Come Fly With Me (Or Don't) by stilinskisparkles (1/1 | 15K | Mature)
Stiles is overworked and stressed out when his flight home gets delayed due to copious amounts of snow. He finds entertainment with one Derek Hale, whom he hasn't seen since high school but really doesn't mind getting reacquainted with.
Especially when it turns out Derek is surprisingly hilarious and will reluctantly play snap with him. And can walk on his hands.
Made it through another year team, well done one and all. Happy holidays and see you in the new year ;)
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