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ghnosis · 7 months

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and just like the Rain...

it's the first properly cool night - it finally feels like fall. the tip of your nose even got a little chilly on your run in the Abbey grounds.

so you run the shower extra hot, and it stings a little when you get in, but it's a good sting, a warm water on cold skin and tired muscles sting, and you relax into it.

you go through the motions, tired and happy: wash your face, your piercings, your body. your soap smells comforting, familiar - it smells like bedtime, the end of a long day.

it's halfway through soaping your torso that you feel it. the droplets running across your skin almost feel like they're getting... thicker. more substantial? it halfway occurs to you to be grossed out - did some sort of creature die in your showerhead, this is a nightmare - when the laugh whispers across the back of your neck.

the Rain Ghoul has arrived, to enhance your shower experience.

warm, stinging drops ooze down your shoulders, pouring down your front, across your nipples, curving down each breast. your skin feels alive, red from the heat of the water and achingly aware of its every inch. the drops continue, over your belly, down your hips, clinging to the shape of your ass, down towards your center but falling from your body before it starts to really matter. other little rivulets course down your thighs, your calves, your ankles -

pushing your feet apart, insistent, stronger than you'd think shower water could be, especially in your ancient apartment. the sensation is so startling (not unwelcome, though) that you scarcely notice what the streams down your arms are doing.

they're gently, so gently, guiding your upper body down, encouraging your hands to rest on the edges of the tub, then keeping a constant pressure circling your wrists, reminding you not to move. wriggling will only encourage him. matching pressure traces your ankles, water kissing you with heat. as you lean forward, agreeing, Rain's water slides over your back, down your chest, agonizingly dripping from the peaks of your breasts. you moan softly, and Rain's voice drips past your ear.

"I've got you now," he croons. "But I bet you wouldn't move, even if I wasn't holding you spread like this, hmm? Tell me how I feel, pet."

Drops race across your eyes, lips, your throat. You open your mouth to answer him and water plays across your tongue. "You're- you're everywhere," you sigh, and he laughs again.

But he is. Between your thighs, licking across your nipples, biting at your hips, and trickling straight down to the core of you. Flowing across your asshole, between your lips, but always, always dropping off before it reaches your clit. He leaves you like that for some time, everywhere at once except for where you really need him but never quite reaching it

until

until the drops falling off your nipples start to feel like little bites.

until the water running down your back takes on the sensation of two hands, gently spreading you open. "Let me see you," he growls, and your knees want to buckle but can't - other "hands" grip your hips, your rib cage, circling you, keeping you upright. they eventually form serpentine bands, tracing like shibari. you make a truly ugly sound of pleasure and he growls again into your ear, delighted. "Slutty little thing, aren't we?"

it feels like you're melting, like the water is washing years of stress off you via edging. a little river flowing between your spread ass courses over your opening, then parting, one smaller stream over each side of your folds, once again avoiding where you need him most.

"Rain, please," you gasp out, but his water floods your mouth, never going down your throat, just washing across your parted lips, playfully preventing you from speaking. the river becomes another hand-sensation, tinglingly warm. a thumb circles your tight rim, making your back arc, the current-like "ties" around your wrists and ankles keeping you from moving too far out of the position Rain wants you in.

the thumb becomes a probing middle finger, long. he pushes it so slowly inside of you, the whole focus of your being flooding to that point of penetration, that delicious fullness. the middle finger is joined by the ring finger, his pointer and pinky fingers sliding across each side of your labia, reminding you of an aching emptiness elsewhere. the sound you make must clue Rain in, because the water ghoul laughs in your ear.

"Dew told me you were a little whore," he purrs. "but I didn't know just how much. are you so used to being fucked by all of us that just one of us isn't enough for you?" you don't get a chance to answer; the water flowing around you solidifies, pushing you slightly forward, and then Rain is standing behind you, so solidly present, but the water is still holding you face-down-ass-up, still swirling patterns across your belly and breasts.

the water-hand burying itself in your ass becomes a physical hand, and Rain hisses at the feeling of your tightness on his fingers. "Such a good little slut for me," he coos, and his thick cock is suddenly between your legs, sliding back and forth across your entrance. his free hand slides down your side, across your shoulder blades, then settles on the scruff of your neck, firmly keeping you in place.

he pulls his hips back, sliding his entire length from your clit to the base of his fingers in your asshole, and then his tip is at your entrance, and then he is stretching you open. he releases a guttural sound as he pushes into you, some unintelligible groan, then "so fucking tight like this," and then he's setting a rhythm between his fingers in one hole, his cock in the other, and his water is still running over you everywhere else.

and you hang like this, completely fucking covered in Rain, and suddenly your exhausted body gives up. your own fluid pours down your thighs and his, and he's absolutely roaring behind you, laughing and telling you what a good girl you are but his hips and his hand are working double time, keeping you squirting, making your legs shake

and then he's really roaring, the sound of his pleasure echoing off the walls of your tiny bathroom as he empties himself in you, the water that is his essence and element washing your outside clean as he paints your inside. he is the only thing supporting your limp form, and he's still inside you and outside you and everywhere, and he continues to hold you even as he softens inside of you. his hands are gentle and his water warm, no longer stinging-hot, as he cleanses you of both of your juices.

there's a fluffy towel waiting for you once he's finished.

#no beta we die like men #raindrop ghoul #rain ghoul #rain ghoul smut #rain ghoul x reader #I didn't even dare to copyedit this myself sorry #my laptop is gonna die #it's a race against time #but I had to get this out for y'all #ok to reblog #encouraged to reblog even #female reader #though I do wanna rewrite this as mountain/rain and gn reader #dommy rain #monsterfucker adjacent?#dunno how to classify this one #rosie writes ghost

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niki-phoria · 7 months

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⋆｡°✩ celebrating spooky season with enha

includes: various halloween adjacent scenarios, lots of fluff lol, forgive me if some of these are a little repetitive

a/n: inspired by this prompt list by @novelbear !!

gn reader (no pronouns used)

⋆｡°✩ heeseung

heeseung startles beside you when a loud crack of thunder interrupts your previously quiet apartment. a soft chuckle escapes you as he presses himself against your side. “don’t be such a scaredy cat,” you tease, reaching over to reassuringly pat his thigh. “relax. it was just some lightning.”

“i’m not,” he whines, though you don’t miss the way he startles when yet another flash of lightning illuminates your previously dark apartment once more. “it’s just… i’m not a fan of thunderstorms.”

you gently tighten your hold around his body, tugging heeseung even closer to you. he leans back against your chest, curling even further into your side. your touch is gentle as you rub a comforting hand against his side. “i’m sure the storm will pass soon.”

“i know,” he nods. shifting slightly, you turn to look out the window. raindrops fall in waves, leaving long streaks as they roll down your windows.

you reach up to brush your hand through heeseung’s hair, tangling your fingers in the soft strands. he lets out a soft sigh at the comforting feeling, relaxing further into your touch. “why don’t we stick to horror comedies next year?”

“yeah,” heeseung sighs. his grip around your waist tightens slightly as yet another low rumble of thunder interrupts the previous silence. “that sounds like a great plan.”

⋆｡°✩ jay

your eyes remain fixated on your tv screen, watching intently as a figure steps out of the darkness. the score is foreboding as it slowly begins to pick up. anticipation slowly continues to build as the soundtrack continues picking up - growing louder and more intense with each passing moment.

the movie finally reaches a climax when the killer suddenly jumps out, accompanied by a scream as he slashes his knife into the main character’s arm. jay gasps at the intrusion; he instinctively placing a hand on top of his chest over his racing heartbeat.

you do your best to stifle a chuckle underneath your breath as you shift slightly to be closer to him. “are you okay?” you whisper.

“yeah,” jay nods. “it was just a stupid jumpscare.”

“come here,” you murmur, opening your arms in a gesture for him to join you. jay doesn’t waste a second, moving across the couch to lay his head against your chest. you smile as he relaxes his body against yours, letting you wrap your arms around him completely. “is this better?”

“much better,” jay hums. you lean down to press a kiss against the crown of his head before finally returning your attention to the still-ongoing movie playing on the screen.

⋆｡°✩ jake

your feet sink into the mulch as you wander throughout the pumpkin patch. the breeze blowing through the air is just cold enough to chill your bones, making you tuck yourself further into jake’s hoodie. the fleece - although comfortable - does little to warm you from the autumn air.

you eagerly scan through the various squash surrounding you in search of the perfect one. pumpkins of various shapes and sizes are littered around the field, though none of them catch your attention enough to make you pause in your hunt.

“babe,” jake calls from nearby. he’s kneeling down in front of a large, orange pumpkin sitting on the ground. it’s already been cut from the tangle of roots it had grown from. “what do you think of this one?”

jake shifts to the side to make room for you to kneel down beside him. rolling up the sleeves of your hoodie, you run your fingers against its smooth skin. small patches of dirt stick against the pumpkin’s skin; it’s shape is nearly perfectly spherical. “it looks good,” you nod, reaching over to pat its side. “it should be big enough to carve.”

“i thought so too.” he reaches around the pumpkin, lifting it up from the ground in one smooth motion. “come on,” he grins. “i can’t wait to get started.”

⋆｡°✩ sunghoon

sunghoon leans over your shoulder, silently observing each of your movements as you carefully drag the knife back and forth against the thick skin of the pumpkin. your countertops are all but completely covered in pumpkin innards; seeds scattered about decorate your kitchen.

you wrap your hand fully around the knife, gripping the covered blade tightly in your fist as you readjust your hands. but before you can continue your carving, sunghoon reaches out to catch his hand in your own. “careful,” he murmurs as he moves your fingers out of the way.

“this is harder than it looks,” you mutter. your fingers occasionally slip against the thick pumpkin skin, the innards making it difficult to keep your grip around the knife steady.

“i know,” sunghoon chuckles. you pause, taking a step back to check your progress. the pumpkin has been scraped as clean as possible and large chunks have been successfully cut out but the design is barely legible.

“here,” his hands feel soft against yours as sunghoon reaches around your waist. he places his hands over yours before he begins gently guiding your movements. “let me help you.”

⋆｡°✩ sunoo

“hey, look!” sunoo smiles, pointing towards a nearby field. “there’s a corn maze.”

“do you want to go check it out?”

he nods, gently tugging you along towards the attraction. “let’s go!”

your feet sink into the dirt with each step you take as you wander inside. stocks of corn surround you, openings leading towards various different directions. “let’s go this way,” you murmur, wandering down the left path. wind easily blows through the makeshift walls of the maze. shivers run down your spine, sending a chill through your entire body.

sunoo furrows his eyebrows in concern when he notices the goosebumps arising along your skin. “are you cold?”

“a little.”

“y/n,” sunoo pouts. he wraps his hands around yours, wrapping your freezing fingertips in the thick fabric of his sweater. “you’re so cold. why didn’t you say something sooner?”

“i’m fine,” you chuckle, though it doesn’t deter him from slipping his hoodie off of his own body and all but shoving it over your own. the fabric feels nice against your bare skin; it warms you almost immediately. “why don’t we finish the maze and then we can go home and cuddle, okay?”

“okay,” sunoo hums.

⋆｡°✩ jungwon

smudges of face paint decorate your fingertips and hands as you carefully swipe the paint across jungwon’s features to recreate charizard’s appearance. your hands slip when he poorly stifles a laugh underneath his breath, causing a small smudge of misplaced orange paint to stain a larger area of skin than you were expecting.

“stop moving,” you whisper. knees pressed against both sides of jungwon’s hips; your body hovers just on top of jungwon’s. you readjust your hold on his face, leaning back as you momentarily set your makeup brush aside.

“i’m sorry!” he chuckles as he pulls back slightly. “i can’t help it. it tickles.”

“you’re the one who wanted to have a couple’s costume and now you can’t even sit still long enough for me to put on the makeup,” you let out a faux exasperated sigh.

“i’m sorry, jagi.” jungwon moves to rest his hands against your hips, gently coaxing you closer once again. his fingertips slip underneath the fabric of your shirt just enough to brush against your bare skin. goosebumps arise in their wake sending shivers down your spine. “i’ll sit still. i promise.”

a soft smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you lean in once again. “you better.”

⋆｡°✩ niki

you’re pulled out of your dreams to the feeling of soft kisses being peppered all over your skin. first it’s your cheek. then your nose. forehead. lips. “ki?” you mumble, eyes blinking open as you shift to sleepily look up at him. “why are you still here? don’t you have practice today?”

a soft smile graces his face as he reaches up to push a stray strand of hair away from your eyes. “i asked for the day off a few weeks ago. i wanted to spend halloween with you.”

“really?”

niki chuckles as he nods. “really.”

you excitedly push yourself up to wrap your arms tightly around his shoulders, tugging him down until your lips meet in a sweet kiss. smiles linger on both of your lips when you pull away. “how were you thinking of celebrating?”

“movie marathon?” he asks, reaching over to grab your tv remote.

“sounds perfect.” you curl yourself against his body, leaning your head against his chest. niki’s arms rest comfortably around your waist as he switches the tv on. “so, what are we watching?”

he hands the remote over to you, leaning down to press a kiss against your temple. “whatever you want, love.”

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yoonavii · 8 months

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𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓

Rich bachelor! Law x Reader

Description: On your courthouse wedding day, hope and determination fueled you, but your fiancé's absence and the revelation of a secret girlfriend shattered your dreams. In that moment of heartbreak, Trafalgar Law, an eligible and wealthy bachelor driven by the need for his family's inheritance, appeared. He offered a life-altering proposition: marry him in exchange for financial security. You immediately accepted without hesitation, unaware of the thrilling twists and turns awaiting you on the unexpected love journey.

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄

The city of Sabaody appeared almost surreal under the persistent downpour, the streets glistening with rainwater and neon lights reflecting off the wet pavement. You hastily exited a yellow taxi, its tires sending up a spray of water as it sped away. Clutching your umbrella, you dashed up the stone steps, the raindrops patterning a rhythmic tune on its canopy. Inside the courthouse, the atmosphere was a stark contrast to the bustling, rain-soaked streets. The corridors were lined with heavy wooden doors leading to various courtrooms, their dark oak contrasting with the white marble floors. The scent of rain-soaked coats hung in the air, and the soft murmur of conversations between lawyers and clients filled your ears.

Finally, you reached the designated courtroom, your heart pounding as you pushed open the imposing wooden door. The judge, an imposing figure in a black robe, peered over the rim of his glasses. He tapped his watch with a measured impatience, the seconds ticking away audibly in the otherwise silent room. With a flush of embarrassment, you offered a hurried apology, the words echoing in the hushed space. The judge leaned forward, his voice carrying the weight of authority as he remarked, “You’re ten minutes late.”

Your gaze swept over the room, noticing the familiar faces of friends and family who had gathered for this momentous occasion. Panic surged as you realized your fiancé was conspicuously absent. The judge’s stern tone deepened your anxiety as he asked, “Where is your fiancé?” Desperation took hold, and you retrieved your phone from your pocket, trembling fingers fumbling as you dialed your fiancé’s number. Each ring felt like an eternity, and your hope dwindled with every unanswered call. Finally, it diverted to voicemail, and you excused yourself from the courtroom, stepping into the hallway. The fluorescent lights above flickered slightly, casting an eerie glow on the gray walls. As you tried your fiancé’s number once more, your heart raced. Outside, the relentless rain painted a picture of uncertainty, mirroring the doubt and concern swirling through your thoughts.

As you continued to redial your fiancé's number, minutes stretched into half an hour, and the stress began to gnaw at you like a relentless itch. Frustration and worry etched lines across your forehead. You kept glancing at your phone, hoping for any sign of life from your missing partner. Unable to quell your anxiety, you allowed your gaze to wander, and it landed on an open courtroom adjacent to yours. A courtroom wedding was in progress, and the atmosphere inside was surprisingly festive. The bride and groom, dressed in exquisite attire, exchanged vows with radiant smiles.What struck you as odd was the extravagance of the guests' attire. They sported both recognizable luxury brands and some that seemed to be known only to a select few. It was a stark contrast to your own choice of a simple courthouse wedding.

Your attention was briefly diverted when a slim, tall man around your age exited the room. He exuded an air of sophistication and confidence. His golden eyes hinted at a hidden depth, and his chiseled face framed by slicked-back black hair added to his allure. He was dressed in a minimal yet elegant all-black ensemble, oozing a kind of charm that was hard to ignore.

For a moment, you found yourself admiring his appearance, but then a wave of guilt washed over you. You had no business checking out other men when you were supposed to be getting married today. Your gaze returned to your phone screen, desperately waiting for your fiancé to pick up, your heart heavy with worry and doubt. As you waited anxiously, a voice from inside the courtroom called out, “Law.” It was the groom, and you mentally noted the name of the handsome man as Law. You watched as Law turned to the groom, annoyance flickering in his golden eyes. He whispered something to the groom, who appeared chastened and immediately apologized, bowing in deference.

Your curiosity piqued, but before you could dwell on this interaction, your phone finally came to life. Relief washed over you as you asked your fiancé if he was okay, explaining your concern for his unresponsiveness earlier. However, instead of your fiancé’s voice, a woman answered the call, and your heart sank. As the woman’s words cut through the air like daggers, you found your voice despite the turmoil inside you. Anger and disbelief fueled your response, and your tone was sharp as you retorted, “What are you talking about? This can’t be true!” The woman on the other end of the line, her voice dripping with condescension, replied, “Oh, sweetheart, it’s as true as the sky is blue. Your so-called fiancé has been seeing me for months behind your back. He’s been spending money meant for your shared expenses on me.”

Your mind reeled, and you clenched your fists, desperately trying to process this shocking revelation. In a mix of anger and heartbreak, you shot back, “How could he do this? We were getting married today! Who are you, anyway?” She laughed again, that same cruel laughter that grated on your nerves. “I’m the one who’s been keeping him entertained, while you were here planning your wedding like a fool. I’m the one he’s chosen over you, darling.” Tears welled up in your eyes, and you couldn’t help but feel a sense of humiliation and betrayal. “You… You’re destroying my life!” you exclaimed, your voice quivering with emotion. She remained unapologetic, her voice cold and dismissive. “I’m just telling you the truth. He never loved you, sweetie. You’re better off without him.” You demanded, in a trembling voice, that he pick up the phone and confirm the terrible truth himself. After what felt like an eternity, he finally picked up the call. Your voice was seething with anger as you confronted him.

With the phone pressed to your ear, you could feel your anger rising like a tempest. "Is it true?" you demanded, your voice trembling with a mix of hurt and fury. "Tell me you didn't do what she said." A heavy sigh on the other end was followed by a heartless admission, "yeah, it's true. I haven't loved you for a long time. I've been using you, living off your money while saving everything for my new girlfriend and our new life." Each word cut deeper, igniting a burning rage within you. "You heartless, selfish... Do you even understand how much I've struggled because of you?!" Your voice quivered with a blend of sorrow and anger. "I gave you chance after chance to change, to be a better person, and this is how you repay me? I regret every moment I ever spent loving you or feeling pity for you!"

The line went silent for a moment as your fiancé absorbed the force of your words. Finally, he responded, "Well, I don't need your pity or your love anymore—“

With those words, you reached a breaking point. The torrent of emotions, the years of suffering and betrayal, all culminated in a moment of sheer frustration. Without thinking, you slammed your phone onto the ground, the sound of it shattering echoing through the hallway. Your heartache was now accompanied by the pain of a destroyed device, symbolizing the wreckage of the life you had built together. As you sat there in the dimly lit courthouse hallway, shattered phone in hand, your focus consumed by the turmoil of your own life falling apart, you were unaware that Law had been observing your situation with keen interest.

Just as Law opened his mouth to perhaps offer some comment or consolation, his own phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID and picked it up, his expression quickly shifting from curiosity to irritation. It was his father's financial advisor on the line, and they delved into a discussion about his father's will. Law's brows furrowed deeply as he listened, and he finally interrupted, frustration evident in his voice. "Why are you discussing this with me when my father is still alive? Is something wrong?" The financial advisor explained matter-of-factly, "Your father instructed me to discuss the beneficiaries with you in case anything were to happen to him. It's a precautionary measure, nothing more."

Law's irritation lingered, but he couldn't deny the weight of the conversation. As he concluded his call, his thoughts seemed to drift back to you, sitting there with your world shattered, much like his own feelings of betrayal and uncertainty about the future. As the conversation with his father's financial advisor continued, Law's irritation gave way to bewilderment. The advisor disclosed a surprising update to his father's will, something that caught Law completely off guard. His voice filled with curiosity and disbelief, Law questioned, "What is it? What did my father do?" The advisor hesitated for a moment before delivering the unexpected revelation. "Your father updated his will recently. In it, there's a condition for you to inherit his wealth and properties. You won't gain access to your inheritance unless you're married for more than a year."

Law was struck speechless by this revelation. His father's desire for a daughter-in-law and the prospect of a grandchild had always been a topic of discussion, but he never imagined his father would take it to this extreme. Law sat in stunned silence as the weight of his father’s unconventional condition settled upon him. He never thought his father’s desire for a daughter-in-law and grandchild would manifest in such a peculiar way. The advisor’s voice brought him back to the conversation, “Your father made this decision to ensure the continuation of the family legacy. It seems he was quite adamant about it.” Law could hardly believe it. It was as if his father was orchestrating his life from beyond the grave. A mixture of frustration and resignation washed over him. “Is there anything else in the will I should know about?”

The advisor assured him that he had covered the essential points, but Law couldn’t help but contemplate the unexpected turn of events. His father’s plan seemed to be unfolding like a complex chess game, and Law was left to grapple with the implications, all while sitting in the courthouse hallway where your own life had taken a dramatic, painful turn.

Law's gaze lingered on you for a moment, and when your eyes briefly met, a fleeting connection sparked between you. However, you quickly looked away, wiping away the tears that had been streaming down your cheeks as you listened to your own life unravel over the phone. In the midst of his own turmoil, Law's determination grew stronger. He couldn't let this opportunity to secure his inheritance slip through his fingers, regardless of the price it might entail. He leaned closer to the phone and instructed the advisor, "Tell my father that I've met someone and that we were planning to get married at the courthouse."

Unbeknownst to him, your ears perked up at his words, and your heart raced. Normally, you didn't jump to conclusions, but the timing and context of his statement left little room for doubt. A sense of disbelief and curiosity washed over you, as you wondered if his words could somehow be connected to the dramatic events unfolding in your own life. Law's confident gaze locked onto you as he interrupted your thoughts, revealing that he had been listening to your conversation with your now ex-fiancé.

The shock of the situation left you momentarily speechless. With a calm yet determined tone, Law explained his unexpected proposition. "You're not getting married to him," he stated matter-of-factly. "I need a wife, and I can assure you that you'll be well taken care of, both physically and, most importantly, financially. You won't struggle ever again." The words hung in the air, and for a moment, you couldn't believe what you were hearing. It was as if you had stepped into the pages of a romance novel, and this modern prince was offering you a castle and a princess title. You pondered on it briefly, the weight of the decision heavy in the air. Then, with newfound determination, you met Law's gaze and agreed, "Alright, I'm in. Let's do this." It wasn't every day that life presented such a surreal opportunity, and you were willing to take the leap into this unexpected twist of fate.

©𝐘𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐈— Any sign/evidence of plagiarism made from outside this name will be dealt with by whatever means necessary. Legal action may occur if non fanfiction works are plagiarized.

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monsterously-high · 1 year

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Dolls & Doll-adjacent Things I’ve Been Obsessed with This Month 💖 (plus links!)

1. Antu Dreamlike Teaparty Centaur BJD’s

I’ve thought about these constantly since they were revealed. They’re just so SWEET 🥹. I have a couple coming in this week, I really hope I get the purple one!

https://www.kikagoods.com/products/antu-dreamlike-tea-party-action-figure-bjd-blind-box-pre-order-in-2023-q1?variant=43787307057386

2. Ddung Clown Doll

Ddung is a Korean doll line I just learned about! They seem to fall between collector and playline— the bodies are study & the outfits are very detailed and well-constructed. This clown is EVERYTHING

3. Licca Chan Bunny Outfit

Okay so this is an outfit FOR a doll and not a doll itself, but oh my god look at Licca’s fluffy bunny outfit!! UGH!! Basic Licca dolls can be relatively affordable. Plus, the clothing sets usually fit rainbow high 👀

4. Dorothy Forest Spirit

These are figures more than dolls, but I just adore these little deer ladies!! I have the one with the green raindrop dress, and I bring her around everywhere to keep me company. Their sitting position makes them so easy to display!

5. Teennar Campus Blindbox BJDs

They’re fruit themed, they’re fashionable, and they’re SO baby!! There’s also going to be a series of figurines and a set of Sakura-themed recolors for this line!

#thanks for tuning in!#I might start doing monthly roundups of products I love #can you tell I’ve been getting into blind boxes lol #kikagoods #dolls #figurines #blind boxes #licca chan #dorothy #teennar campus #bjds #antu #penny’s box #dreamlike teaparty #centaurs #doll collecting #my thots

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yandere-toons · 2 years

Note

Have you ever thought about releasing your drabbles or flash fictions ? This might be a silly question but I just absolutely adore your writing style and am so inspired by it so I always love getting new content from you 💓💓

WARNING: implied stalking + kidnapping, psychological manipulation, toxic mindsets.

* * *

You stepped into the corridor to spot Miles Morales rounding the corner in the opposite direction of your dorm room, his eyes downcast as he hurriedly rubbed some webs off his palms. “Miles!” You lifted an arm to wave at him once he turned.

Miles whirled around and stood as tall as he possibly could have, bouncing on his heels a bit. “Yeah?” He tightened his grip on his backpack straps when you walked toward him with a curious frown.

After glancing at your surroundings for any prying eyes, you looked at Miles and whispered, “My roommate didn't come back again last night.”

Another glance proved useful when it yielded the sight of a group of students looking over their shoulders at you, but a few moments of silence, as well as a brief glare, convinced them to return to talking among themselves.

You turned back to Miles, who had not moved at all. “I was wondering if you saw them by any chance?”

This drew a lengthy “uh” from him as he opened his mouth as if to say something else, only to keep making the same sound. It was not until you tilted your head at him that Miles peeked at the adjacent wall and spoke with a stilted tone as if he were a first-time actor rehearsing his lines.

“I don't know anything about that.”

You slumped in disappointment and scanned the area for another person to ask, so Miles raised his hand and pointed a finger at you with his best imitation of a surprised smile. “But you know who might know? The security guard!”

Just as you were considering the distance between Salas's office and the art classroom, your cell phone rang. A Japanese hip-hop song that you did not remember setting as the ringtone started to echo in the corridor and earned dozens of annoyed glances.

Miles gaped and squeezed the straps on his backpack so hard that his hands began to tremble. A bead of sweat rolled down his cheek, which he wiped with the back of his hand while muttering the words, “Not yet.”

A quick look at the phone screen revealed the caller to be Peter B. Parker.

As soon as you answered the call, your ears were bombarded with the hubbub of a busy restaurant. You could nearly smell the French fries steaming in vats, the patties flipping on grills and other fast food being peddled and devoured over the phone.

Indistinct chatter filled the background, and a rapid series of oinks and slams interrupted a nearby conversation.

Closest to the speaker was the sloppy noise of someone chewing a hamburger and slurping on a straw. “Hey, kid!” came a deeper voice from the other end of the phone, this one slightly distorted and muffled by a mouthful of bread and meat. “Heard you're down a roommate.”

At this, you cocked your head and lowered the phone from your ear. You watched as the screen flashed the name “Peter B. Parker” again, but instead of resuming the call, your narrowed eyes rose to meet the sweat running down Miles's forehead.

“Miles, how does he know about my roommate?”

The sweat was like raindrops on his face now as if there was a thunderstorm crashing and booming just above his head. With his eyes darting from the ceiling to the floor to the walls, Miles was caught on each word and let one too many long pauses fall between his quickening breaths.

“I may have let it slip at our last get-together.”

The volume of his voice kept dropping until he was almost whispering by the end. He had raised his shoulders and tensed them to the point of crinkling his eyes and clenching his jaw at the discomfort.

His fists balled when you continued to inspect him, which drew a perturbed silence from you that you broke moments later. “It only happened last night.”

Miles attempted to relax his fists and looked away, managing a chuckle and a faint smile. “Yeah, we got together early this morning.” His eyes lacked the dark rings that appeared when he spent the night slinging webs and throwing punches.

“Kid? You still there?” questioned Peter B. Parker before you could further interrogate Miles.

A brisk look at the clock hanging on the wall threw a cold chill over you. Its tick-tocks seemed to happen sooner and move the arms faster with each second that you counted them. Turning away, you faced the floor and shouted into the phone, “My art class starts in five minutes!”

The crunch of a French fry being gobbled was audible. “Ah-huh. Wanna grab a burger and tell us about it?”

Just as you were preparing to refuse his offer, one word stuck in your mind. “Us?”

A crash followed the clatter of porcelain plates slamming into each other. The noise shifted from left to right as if someone was sliding across the table, and the thumps of multiple hands clutching the phone were joined by a decisive pig's oink.

The voice of Peter B. Parker, now distant, grumbled, “Yeah, yeah. Like they really want to hear about the golden ratio over lunch.”

This battle for the phone resulted in the comical voice of Peter Porker crossing over into your ear. “I can teach you everything you need to know about art!” His mouth was way too close to the speaker and prompted you to wince, but it was soon wrestled out of his hands.

What came next were the sproings and boings of Porker jumping up and down in a fight to be heard. “I'm a cartoon!” he shouted, running out of breath midway through the declaration. “No schoolteacher can do better than a living art piece!”

Finally, Porker collapsed on the table with a thud and a rattle.

Static, the movement of air and breathing of inconsistent volumes filled your ear as the phone was turned upside down and carried at various distances from someone's face. “How does this gizmo work?” asked a low, almost gravelly voice.

Peter B. Parker hummed in the background. “Just hold it to your mouth and talk,” he replied in the middle of a large bite into his hamburger.

The static interference vanished at once, and the monotone of Peter Parker became clear. “Play hooky with us, kid. I used to ditch college every week in my day.”

Hiding between the shouts and struggle of the others was the calmer voice of Gwen Stacy. “We saved a seat for you.” The smile on her face was evident in her tone, with the clear amusement exposing the way she relished watching her comrades squabble.

“It's next to me!” came an excited shout from Peni Parker, who was sitting farther away from the phone.

Gwen chuckled, “She wouldn't let it go until we agreed.”

A wave of cool water sprayed you from above, and the chink-chink of the sprinkler system rained down on the corridor. Screams filled the school as students ducked for cover and hid inside the nearest classrooms.

You looked up to squint through the water, your gaze dropping when the phone line went dead.

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inbetweenimperfectmusings · 11 months

Text

This sea of people,

And somehow you and I are

Adjacent raindrops.

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ansixilus · 6 months

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RULES: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

Tagged by @peyurtle thank ye kindly. I benefit here from a habit for poetical naming, though I have to pull from several sources since my organization is as scattered as my muse's time-share schedule.

Black Wings in Twilight

Topsy Turvy, Purple and Red

Dancing on Cracking Glass

Not What We Seem

Waxing Moon

Summoned, Newmade

Dragon Below, Horizon Eyes

Semiautomagic

Lines in the Fog

The God Machine

Raythe Wormwood

Unity

Xenophon's Song

My Beloved Desert

A Touch of the Beyond

We're Monsters, Not Monstrous

The Monarchs

Keystone Research

Wolf

Raindrop on a Bending Leaf

Glass Masks

System Ghost

My Roommate, the Unspeakable Horror

Who Cares if I was Raised by a Wolf

Overthrow the Reign of Madness

Never Dead Which Eternal Burns

Stitching Together Fates and Shadows

And these ones don't exactly have WIPs, but they're rattling about in my head no less

The End of Wars

Thumb Bone Doorways

A Second Chance at Happiness

I'm A Magic Man

Okay, you made me trawl through my WIP folder and dig up stories long forgotten, fair enough. No, they aren't in much of any order, so the developed ones I'm actually working on are scattered in amongst the old snippets.

I'm pretty sure I don't know enough other writers, nor writer-adjacent folk, let alone as mutuals, but I'll try:

@asexualmonsterfucker Dearest friend, woe be upon thee

@humormehorny I think you're writer-adjacent???

@ernmark I think that's your writer aspect?

@yourozness you're in fandom, close enough

@lynnestra44 Finally, an unambiguous person I sort of know who writes things!

@mageofeternity I think I know who you are under there

@wizardlyghost wait, no, you're, but, who? I? Wha?

@nagia-pronounced-neijia HOW DID I NOT KNOW BEFORE NOW YOU'RE A FANDOM WRITER?

@cinturon-cadena

@thebutterflyoficeandwisteria

@esgiel if you're who I think you are... and if not oh well

@iron-mage

@imsorrywhatsalifeagain I think you do stuff???

@stormfalcon2018 cheap shot, ayyyy!

@hihogandalfaway

@ageblue You're in my notes and therefore my field of fire, have fun!

@kingofthesafetypins do you do things? I don't remember

Okay I'm running out of time this will have to do okay I love you byebye!

#tag game #ask me stuff

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aureoaerosmith · 1 year

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Monsoon Tears

A Kiyoomi Sakusa Fanfiction

Reblogs are appreciated

Part 1

Y/N's heart pounds as she stares at the positive result on the pregnancy test. She has been expecting her period for days, and now, seeing the confirmation of her suspicions, she doesn't know what to do next. She wants to share the news with Sakusa Kiyoomi, but the thought of his reaction makes her anxious.

As soon as Sakusa returns home, she summons the courage to tell him. "Kiyoomi," she says softly, her voice trembling, "I'm pregnant."

For a moment, Sakusa is silent, but then he wraps his arms around her and holds her close. "Thank you," he whispers, his voice filled with emotion. Y/N looks up at him in surprise, and he continues, "I've always wanted a family with you."

Y/N's heart swells with happiness and relief. She knows that Sakusa isn't one to show his feelings openly, but his actions speak louder than words. He takes care of her like never before, ensuring that she eats healthy meals and gets enough rest. He even rearranges his schedule so that he can accompany her to her doctor's appointments.

The season is spring. The Quarter where Sakusa and Y/N lives has a garden adjacent to it. The flowers in the garden are blooming with vibrant colors of pink, yellow, purple, and white. Y/N and Sakusa often take walks in the garden, admiring the beauty and tranquility it offers.

Y/N shares her future plans with Sakusa, like choosing names, which room they should decorate for the baby, hoping for a brave, kind, beautiful, and healthy child. Sakusa doesn't say much, but he smiles, his love and devotion for Y/N evident in his eyes.

Part 2

The monsoon season had arrived, and the sky outside was overcast with dark, ominous clouds. The air was thick with the smell of wet earth, and the sound of raindrops tapping against the window filled the room. Y/N had been feeling uneasy for a few days, the humid weather taking its toll on her body. She was tired and had been experiencing mild cramps, but she didn't want to worry Sakusa, so she kept quiet.However, one morning, as she wakes up, Y/N suddenly feels a sharp pain in her abdomen and faints.

Sakusa goes to their bedroom to check on Y/N and finds her lying unconscious on the bed. He quickly picks her up and rushes her to the hospital. The doctors take her to a private room, and Sakusa calls their parents to inform them about the situation.

The hospital room was stark white, and the smell of disinfectant was overwhelming. Y/N struggled to sit up, but her body felt heavy and weak. She looked around, trying to make sense of what had happened.

Then, the doctor gave her the devastating news that Y/N had suffered a miscarriage. Her heart shattered into a million pieces. All her hopes and dreams for their future as a family were shattered in an instant.

As she lay on the hospital bed, tears streaming down her face, Sakusa sat beside her, holding her hand tightly. He didn't say anything, but his actions spoke volumes. He stroked her hair, wiped her tears, and held her close. The sound of rain pattering against the window provided a soothing backdrop to their grief.

The doctor came in and checked on Y/N, explaining the procedure for the next few hours. He also gave her some medication to help with the pain.

As the doctor left, Y/N turned to Sakusa, her eyes searching his face. "Why did this happen to us?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "Did I do something wrong?"

Sakusa squeezed her hand and leaned in to kiss her forehead. "No, you didn't do anything wrong."

Y/N felt a lump form in her throat. "I feel like I failed you, Kiyoomi. I couldn't give you the family you wanted."

Sakusa's grip on her hand tightened. "Y/N, you didn't fail me."

Y/N clung to him, her body shaking with sobs. "I'm sorry," she said between sobs. "I'm so sorry."

Sakusa rubs her back soothingly. "I want a family with you, Y/N, but we can always try again."

The sound of the rain is the only thing that breaks the silence in the hospital room. The sky is overcast with heavy, gray clouds. The smell of the rain permeates the air, refreshing and cleansing. The drops hit the windowpane, creating a soothing rhythm.

Sakusa rubs Y/N's back soothingly as she sobs softly. He feels a pang of sadness and guilt in his chest. He looks outside, lost in thought, as the rain intensifies. The water droplets cascade down the window, distorting the view outside.

They stay there for a while, holding each other, trying to process their grief. It's a difficult moment for them, but they know they have each other's support to get through it. The doctor gives Y/N some pain killers and sleeping pills. So, she's soon asleep.

Sakusa has always been a private person, never opening up much to anyone, not even to Y/N. He knows that it's something that he needs to work on, but it's hard to let his guard down, especially in moments of vulnerability.

As he sits by Y/N's side, he can't help but feel a sense of guilt. He has always wanted to be a father, to have a family of his own, but he knows that his work has taken up most of his time and energy. He wonders if he has been too focused on his career, too selfish to realize what is truly important.

As he looks at Y/N, he can't help but feel grateful to have her by his side. He knows that they can always try again for a family, but he can't shake off the feeling of doubt and uncertainty. He wonders if they're ready for another heartbreak.

He looks back outside, and the rain has reduced to a drizzle now. The clouds still cover the sky, but he knows that the storm will pass, just like how their grief will eventually fade away.

He leans back in his chair, closing his eyes, and taking a deep breath. He feels the weight of the world on his shoulders, but he knows that he can't let it consume him. He has to be strong for Y/N, to be her support and her comfort. He knows that it won't be easy, but he's willing to try.

Note from the Author: Just so you know, that pic isn't mine! The fanfiction is actually the result of me feeding my wacky ideas to ChatGPT and seeing what it came up with. Thanks for checking it out, though!!!

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angelbaby-fics · 2 years

Note

Also I have two requests if that’s okay!!!!

Going to make a build a bear for readers bday (it’s really fun and they have special birthday hearts)

And waking up to a rainy day and maybe going out and playing in the rain and spending the rest of the day cuddling and eating takeaway

-🧸💗

Rainy Day

Word Count: 1k

Characters: Cg!Stucky, Little!Reader, Little!Peter, and a special appearance from Alpine!

A/N: 🧸💗 Nonnie my beloved!! I love this request so much, and I decided to challenge myself to write it with no dialogue, just feeling. I'm going to do the Build-a-Bear plot in another fic coming hooopefully this week if thats alright!! Eeek!! I'm just so proud of this one, its sooooo fluffy like... well you'll see!! Enjoy!! 💕

You absolutely loved rainy days. Some people, upon waking up to a rainy day, would just pull the blanket back over their head and call it off, but not you. You’d practically dragged Steve out of bed, too excited to try and sleep longer after the rain had woken you. You were now having your breakfast in your bean bag chair next to the window instead of at the table, watching raindrops chase each other down the glass. Steve put on a record before joining your cat Alpine on the couch with a mug of hot coffee in hand.

Normally in the mornings, you could rely on the sun coming in through the large windows to illuminate the room, but the sky was so dark and dreary today that sunlight was replaced with the warm glow of one of the lamps. Soft music drifted from the speakers, mingling with the sounds of the rain and the purring cat. After a while, Bucky entered the room with a still half sleeping Peter in his arms.

Bucky took Peter to the kitchen and microwaved a bottle for him. When that was ready, he dropped Peter off at the bean bag chair adjacent to you before joining Steve and Alpine on the couch. You gave Peter a small wave, which was returned with a smile as the two of you continued staring at the window. The wind shook the trees, the slick leaves glittering against the dark backdrop of the sky. Bucky leaned over to kiss Steve on the cheek, the sound causing Alpine to raise her head, before ultimately deciding that it wasn’t worth losing sleep over and curling back up into a ball of white fluff.

After some time, the record reached its end, and Steve got up to shut the player off. The change in energy made you get up and stretch your limbs, earning a loving smile from Bucky as he admired you. Although the sky was still cloudy and the wind still strong, the raindrops had let up quite a bit since you’d woken up. You asked if you and Peter could go play outside and to your surprise, both your daddies agreed. Steve took Peter and Bucky took you to your respective rooms to change out of your pajamas and into some more weather appropriate clothes. Then, the four of you headed out the apartment door and towards the elevator, all making sure to wave goodbye to the cat as you left.

When the elevator opened to the ground floor, you and Peter both took off running to the giant yard outside. Your rubber boots hit puddle after puddle, splashing up droplets of water that speckled your raincoat. Steve jogged after the two of you with Bucky following not far after, making sure nobody fell and got a scraped knee. A frog jumped out of the muddy grass and onto the pathway, stopping you and Peter in your tracks. You both knelt down to get a closer look, the frog staying still as you admired it before it hopped along its way. Peter chased after it, crouching down on his hands and jumping up just like the creature did. You laughed as you watched him hop around, getting his hands all muddy. You noticed a snail, its iridescent shell glinting as it slowly scaled the side of a tree.

The wind began to pick up a bit, and with it, more rain began falling in sheets all around you. Steve and Bucky beckoned you and Peter back towards them, not wanting to carry either of your muddy little selves. You ran over to meet them, and together you all walked back to the compound, abandoning your footwear at the doormat. When you got back to your apartment, you and Peter took turns washing up, the warm bath a stark but welcome contrast to the cold water pouring outside. When you were both squeaky clean and dried off, changed back into pajamas despite it only being early afternoon, you and Peter both dragged as many pillows and blankets as you could to the living room, setting up a cozy fort to watch movies in with your daddies. This was your favorite thing to do on rainy days.

Steve and Bucky both agreed that neither of them felt much like cooking, but thankfully the perks of living in a compound owned and operated by a billionaire meant 24-hour kitchens on call for whatever you wanted, whenever you wanted it. The food was delivered to your door shortly after Steve hung up the phone, and Bucky put everything on plates, gathering napkins and silverware before joining the three of you on the couch. It was your turn to pick the movie today, and after some contemplation, you decided on Ponyo. Alpine eventually stopped sniffing around everybody’s plates, resigned to the fact that she wasn’t getting any human food, and curled up on the floor in front of the tv.

Suddenly, a loud crack of thunder broke through the atmosphere, and the room was plunged into darkness, the only sounds now the thrashing of rain and yours and Peter’s nervous breaths. The cat shot up from the carpet and out of the room. You reached for Peter’s hand and he gave a reassuring grip, despite being frightened a bit himself. Your daddy wrapped a pair of strong warm arms around you, leaning down to whisper in your ear. He softly reminded you that thunder was just Thor having a bit of fun, and Thor was your friend, he would never hurt you. You nodded, taking these words to heart, and though the thunder continued to shake the walls, you were calm. The arms around you rocked you back and forth, as your other daddy got up to light some candles around the room.

The comfort of your position, the food in your tummy, the warm light and soft scent of the candles, and the raindrops drumming against the glass window made your limbs feel heavy. The fact that you hadn’t seen the sun all day long had you unsure if you were taking a nap or going to bed for the night, but you didn’t really care as a soft pair of lips kissed you on the cheek and let you know you were safe, and cozy, and everything was alright.

Taglist: @babybatdani @cherryynoirr @simpingbutch @xxxqueenlaufeysonxxxxo @mogaruke @flthyhrts @mariexoxosblog @stuckysgirl27 @midnight-dreams-23 @mischiefsemimanaged @0witchtrials0 @my-river-lilly @erynnnn @tired-spider-siblings @tamzindouglas @st3rgirl @rach2602 @bradfordmyworld @keirabux @teddybearsgrr @sleepybabyxo @bunnyweasley23 @simpforsebastianstan06 @angies1021 @acahope311 @marvel1984 @little-love-bee

#stucky x little!reader #little!reader #chloe's fic #bucky x little!reader #steve x little! reader #little!peter #agere fic #🧸💗

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bridgertontess · 1 year

Text

The Best

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Author’s Note: Just a little fluff Benedict story. AU. This is my first try at writing Bridgerton fanfiction. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Summary: You are an up-and-coming art agent in NYC and Benedict Bridgerton is your most talented client- and one of your best friends. You’ve scheduled two art showings in one evening. You arrive very late to Benedict’s art show which is a source of frustration for both of you. AU. 4.5 k. Fluffy fluff.

“Where are you?”

You shook the raindrops off your cell phone to ensure you were reading Benedict's text message clearly.

Damn thunderstorm …. you thought to yourself.

If only you hadn’t forgotten your coat and umbrella at Sebastian’s art show, you wouldn’t have to fight the thunderstorm you found yourself in to make it to Benedict on time. Even though you were new to the job as an art agent, you knew better than to schedule two art shows in one evening. Your stomach tightened at the thought that Benedict may pay the price for your ambition.

You considered texting Benedict back but decided it would detain you even more. You would be at Benedict's art show soon enough, bringing with you pathetic excuses and abuses of your friendship. Benedict's artistic talent was astonishing and you were proud to have him as one of your best clients. As he quickly became one of your best friends in the city, you discovered that his artistic endeavors weren't his only talents. His kindness and charm set him apart from most of the people you met in New York.

Occupied New York City cabs whizzed down the street next to the sidewalk. Not only would you never be able to get a cab on such a busy Friday night, but each cab also seemed to mock you by spraying you with cold water from the street puddles as they sped by.

One more block. Don't give up now.

You drew a deep breath and redoubled your efforts. At some point, you lost the heel on your left pump. You couldn't be bothered with its recovery.

Your body nearly slammed into the glass door of the gallery. Stepping back, you pulled the door open aggressively thanks to the adrenaline that was coursing full speed ahead in your bloodstream. Your gasp echoed through the barren lobby. You blinked the droplets of water from your eyelashes to make sure your eyes weren't playing tricks on you. Instead of a hoard of artists and collectors, you saw sculptures from past art shows. The easels that held signs announcing Benedict’s art show were still where you had placed them the day before as the two of you took your time readying the lobby and adjacent gallery for tonight's show.

The empty bar against the wall instantly beckoned you. Ignoring your meandering stride, you hobbled your way toward it in search of brain-numbing wine. Glancing over the counter to the other side of the bar, you saw the unopened boxes of Benedict's favorite chardonnay that you had ordered for the event.

First things first.

Supporting yourself against the counter of the bar, you quickly tried to make yourself look remotely presentable. You tugged the dripping hem of your short black skirt and adjusted your water-soaked red sweater. You had taken extra care that morning to look especially professional for the day's art shows. Being new to the profession, you knew you had a lot to prove to a lot of people. You smoothed your drenched hair in a pathetic attempt to deceive yourself into believing that you could still pull off a fabulous look for the art show.

And for Benedict.

You searched for a living breathing person among the sculptures and statues while you internally searched for a reason why the lobby would be empty of guests.

You caught sight of Benedict standing alone in the corner of the foyer that led to the inner gallery where his work was being displayed. A shudder went up your spine as you tried to convince yourself that you were shaking due to the frigid thunderstorm rather than the fact that you were still wrangling with an imposing infatuation with him since your mutual friend Granville introduced you months before.

His stare was transfixed on the screen of his cell phone as if he was expecting it to beep with an incoming text. He glanced upward in frustration when it remained silent. While gulping from the oversized wine glass in his other hand, he put his phone into the pocket of his custom-tailored jacket.

He held his usual casual stance despite the growing irritation with the silent phone. You had grown familiar with his usual attire of paint-splattered jeans and frayed t-shirts. So, his dapper look that evening provided yet another layer to your attraction for him. His fitted black pants and crisp white shirt beneath his jacket hugged his toned frame. If any of the artwork in the building were to ever come to life, they would have been jealous of this masterpiece of a man.

Why did he have to be so stylish and attractive tonight?

You placed your cell phone on the counter of the bar, drawing Benedict's attention in your direction. His rapid-fire blinks told you that you were a sight he wasn't expecting. Just a few short hours earlier, you allowed yourself to fantasize about stunning him with your appearance. As his mouth gaped open and his eyebrows rose, you knew you had reached that goal- just not in the way you had hoped. You heard his audible intake of breath as he did a double take of your chaotic condition.

Way to make a graceful entrance.

His quick long strides brought him to where you stood leaning against the abandoned bar. He stole a glance at the puddle of water collecting at your feet.

"What happened to you? Are you ok?" he asked as the edge in his voice cut through the lobby. He shook his head as he scanned your body from head to toe and back again. He quickly took another drink from his wine glass before setting it on the counter. Unable to resist, you reached for his glass and took a swig of his wine for yourself before returning it to the counter.

You began to unleash a manic narrative on your evening to that point, gasping for breath between each phrase. “I'm sorry... Sebastian knew I only had time for a quick drop in… he kept pulling me in a million directions..I don’t know why I thought that I could make two art shows in one night… and then, the storm…”

Breathe.

He took off his jacket and helped you into it without breaking his gaze on you. His jacket was still warm from the heat of his body. You caught his distinctive scent as it enveloped you. You knew it well. After every Netflix mathathon you had shared, he regularly left his scent of vetiver, sandalwood, and his natural musk on your afghan that you kept on your sofa.

During our marathons, it didn't matter that he preferred foreign films and you were all about rom-coms. The two of you made it work over a bowl full of M&M's. However, you often spent your marathons watching him as he arranged the candies according to color in the palm of his hand before eating them all in one big gulp. You had made a habit of fooling yourself into believing that you always looked away quick enough so that he never saw your stares.

“Better?” he asked as he pulled the jacket tighter around your body, startling you from your memory of when you were confident that you could always work things out in the name of friendship.

A weak smile was your only answer as guilt continued to bubble inside of you.

Crossing his arms across his chest, he opened his mouth to speak. Instead, he looked away with his mouth silently gaped open. His long fingers massaged the back of his neck as he shook his head.

He finally found his words. “I can't believe that you took such a risk tonight. I know tonight was important to you. It was important to us.” As he unbuttoned his cuffs and began to push his sleeves up his forearms, he pulled his lips back, seemingly to keep from saying anything more.

You stumbled a step backward struggling to keep your breathing even. Closing your eyes, you could no longer bear to see the frustration written across his face. Just as it was unlike you to take such a risk with both your careers, it was unlike him to express dissatisfaction so readily.

“Benedict, I can't believe it either.” Instinctually, you reached out your shaking hands to grab his in an attempt to apologize. You still couldn’t allow yourself a glance at his disappointed face.

He sandwiched your cold hands in his, allowing his electric touch to warm them. His gesture of kindness paradoxically calmed and excited you at the same time. Taking a deep breath, you risked looking up to his face again. You caught his stare before he quickly looked away. The corners of his mouth turned upward. He had traded his frustration for concern as he pulled your hands against his body. You took an extra forward step for good measure.

Benedict cleared his throat. “I wish you would have called or texted. I had no idea what happened to you. I was really worried. If it weren't for you, I'd be lost.”

“Well, I wasn't a very good agent tonight. I am truly sorry.”

An exasperated sigh escaped him. “I’m not talking about your job as an agent. I meant that I would be lost...” He quickly looked away, seemingly searching for a way to end that sentence. He shook his head and seemed to abandon that search.

He placed his hands on your shoulders, before allowing one of his hands to slip into the curve of your neck. “Don't be so hard on yourself. Being one of the newest art agents in the city brings with it a lot of pressure. You deserve better treatment than you received from Sebastian. He knew you were just dropping in quickly as a favor. He knew you were sure to get caught in that storm.”

You felt palpitations in your chest when it dawned on you that his frustration wasn’t because you had made a mistake by overscheduling yourself. His frustration came from the fact that he had been concerned for your well-being.

“I am amazed by your understanding when you have every right not to be.” Your mind volleyed back and forth as you tried to decide if it was emotionally safe for you to hope once again that his concern for you indicated more than friendship. Giving in to your desire for Benedict meant risking your professional relationship as well as your friendship.

But wouldn't it be worth it?

He pulled your soaked hair away from the back of your neck and moved it toward your shoulder. He squeezed the water from it and you watched as his eyes tracked a raindrop down your chest into the plunging neckline of your favorite red sweater. You pulled a quick breath into your lungs as he was brave enough to trace its path with his fingertips which were still slightly stained with paint from his other inborn passion. Since the moment he came into your life, you had longed for his tender touch. You had fantasized about feeling his touch on your skin, but you never let yourself believe that it would actually happen.

He. Is. Worth. The. Risk.

"Still cold?" he asked huskily as he brought his gaze back up to your eyes.

“Hot” you breathed before you could stop yourself -even though your teeth were still chattering.

He fluidly bent down to contain you in an embrace while he nuzzled his 5 o'clock shadow into your neck. You felt the traction of his cheek pull along the side of your neck as his parted lips landed motionless on the corner of your mouth. You breathed in his exhale of sweet wine.

He hesitated for a moment that felt like a lifetime before blessing your lips with a tentative kiss. Passion and fear waged a war in your mind. As he pulled his face back, you were provided with the freedom to touch his smooth lips with your fingertip. He pressed his lips against the pad of your finger while stroking your face with the back of his hand.

It no longer mattered that he saw you staring. You drank in his face without fear. You were no longer concerned that you were risking potential heartache to give in to your desire for him. His eyes held your stare with one of his own. You reached up and pulled his face down toward you. Passion had won.

As you turned your head to ready yourself to kiss his beckoning mouth, he unexpectedly mirrored your head tilt with his. You quickly recovered by tilting your head in the other direction again to avoid a dreaded nose crash. You feverishly gave him a decidedly deliberate kiss on his mouth.

He shakily inhaled as if he was preparing to dive into a pool. He plunged into your mouth with a desire that had been squelched for far too long. Clutching his hair, you pulled him even further into your kiss. You grabbed his shoulders as if you were drowning in a wave of your own passion.

You pulled your face upward to steady the panting gasps of your breathing. He took advantage of the access to your throat and planted staccato kisses up and down each side of your neck. He was mapping your body with his mouth as if he had been planning it since the moment you met.

Stopping for a moment, he breathed into your skin “Are you sure...” You didn't allow him to finish his question before forcefully pushing a kiss onto his words. You parted your lips as an invitation to him to invade your mouth. He cradled your head in the palm of his hand as he accepted your silent request. As he darted his tongue into your mouth, you answered with an exploration of my own. You didn't want the kissing to end in case he had notions of telling you that it was a mistake as soon as your kisses subsided. You wanted to pull in every moment for the kisses seemed too important to end.

“Finally,” he said into the shared breaths between you.

Finally.

The crack of the lightning from beyond the doors gave you a brief and unexpected firework show. The rumbling roll of thunder that followed shook you from the bliss of finally allowing yourself to give in to the charms of his man. You both peered beyond the doors to discover that the downpour was growing even worse.

“I’m impressed that you took it upon yourself to run through that storm,” Benedict suddenly remarked. “I imagine getting a taxi would be impossible on a night like tonight. I have to give you credit for your efforts.” Benedict absentmindedly glided his fingertips across your collarbone as he continued to look at the menacing storm.

“I work hard for my favorite client,” you answered as you returned to staring at this man’s dazzling face.

Your mind awoke to the fact that your newfound passion was preventing you from entering the gallery where Benedict’s work was displayed. You longed to make up for your tardiness by at least completing his art show triumphantly.

"But,” you began, “we shouldn’t keep everyone waiting even longer. Let's go to the gallery that has your work. I invited some art collectors that I can't wait for you to meet. Maybe I can do some damage control and they will consider me fashionably late." You glanced down at your disheveled appearance and added “Well, on second thought, I might not be able to pull off “fashionably.”

Your joke fell flat. "Too late,” he winced. “It's over." Glancing around the lobby, you immediately felt foolish for not realizing this sooner.

You grabbed my cell phone from the counter and took a passing glance at the time.

"Already?" You took yet another look at the time.

"You can't will your phone to turn back time by looking at it again," he laughed. You dropped your phone back onto the counter with a little more force than you intended.

"Where did everyone go? I had so many things lined up for you.” You stole a glance at one of the signs you had placed throughout the lobby the day before.

Benedict tenderly took your face in his hands and directed your attention back to him. “Listen to me. The show was a success. I had some really good leads. But everyone started leaving early to beat the storm.” He nodded in the direction of the glass doors where the storm continued to try to beat its way in. “Granville was here but he left too. He took with him his posse of art friends to celebrate the enthusiasm of art collectors everywhere.”

“And you didn't leave with them? I've never known you to pass up a good party, Benedict”

“And miss this sight? This is not your usual look,” he smiled before turning thoughtful. “I wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“Me? Alright? Well, I've proven tonight that this is debatable” you sighed.

“Hey now,” he comforted while bending down to assure that you were making eye contact, “neither of our careers is ruined over one rained out art show. We are both too good at what we do for that to happen.”

“Benedict, you are the best,” you smiled.

“Okay. If you say so.”

You nodded quickly to indicate that this was exactly what you thought. “Well,” you confessed in an attempt to redeem yourself, “while I was at Sebastian's show, I sold that amazing landscape that you finished last week. So tonight wasn’t a total loss.”

“Tonight will never be a total loss.” He took a handful of your hair and squeezed more water from it. An awareness came over his face as he realized what you had just said about his painting. His eyebrows rose as he cackled. “Wait! You actually sold MY painting at another artist's show? That is really ballsy!”

His laugh made your heart flutter as you let yourself grow just a bit proud of yourself. “I know my priorities. You are my priority. Your art sells itself.”

“Well, why are you getting commissions then?” he joked. He smiled with satisfaction.

You shivered.

As he circled his arms around your waist, his large open hands rubbed your back to warm you. Gradually, he gave way to slower strokes along your back. He stopped moving his hands completely as he pulled you closer to his body. You both froze in place. Lingering a stare into your eyes, he moved his fingertips to your face to gently brush away the raindrops that had beaded there.

He reached under his jacket that was now encompassing your body and grabbed at your flesh- each hand moving independently to cover as much of your body at once as possible. You reached around him and traced your open hand down his spine before grabbing the cloth of his shirt as if you could hold on to him and the moment forever. Your desperate desire compelled you to reach for his toned ass in a desperate attempt to pull his body even closer against yours.

“HEY!”

A gruff voice from across the lobby startled both of you and you dropped your hands from each other as if you were schoolchildren caught kissing on the playground. You had forgotten that you weren’t alone in the world, much less alone in the building. You looked over and immediately recognized the security officer of the building.

“If nobody is here for this thing, I can lock up as soon as you leave.”

You wanted nothing more but to leave and get Benedict someplace isolated so you could continue to discover each other with new touches and new kisses.

“We are gone,” Benedict called back as you felt his ample hand grip your ass, away from the prying eyes of the guard. He leaned in and whispered in your ear, “I want you alone. All to myself. It’s been a long time coming.”

An eager nod was your only response as your mind quickly flashed all the ways you had always imagined the two of you having each other.

The guard left the room to turn off the light in the galleries or retrieve keys or whatever security guards do. You didn’t care at that moment. You just felt grateful that he was kicking you out of the building so the two of you could escape to someplace private.

“So y/n, I guess this just means we have an excuse to plan another art show together.”

“Well, that declaration is the best part of my day”

“So far,” he said his voice low and seductive.

You tried to think of something clever to say, but his flirtation struck you so hard that you forgot how to speak. Your only answer was a frozen smile that you were sure bordered on demented. You pulled yourself together and exchanged your smile for a wink and wondered if that was any better.

“So,” Benedict continued, “Granville has his celebration. It's our turn to celebrate.” He reached over and raised his nearly empty wine glass in my direction. “To selling MY painting at Sebastian's art show. To misadventures that lead to adventures. And finally,” he raised his glass higher as he added flirtatiously “to the way that sweater looks on you.”

You bought yourself time by pressing your cold hands against your blushing cheeks to warm them. You needed to up your game beyond a demented smile and a wink if you had any hopes of matching his flirtations with your own.

"Well," you began, "my coat and umbrella have indeed abandoned me and my heel is probably floating down 23rd street. Since they seem to be having quite a time tonight, I think it's only fair that we follow suit. So, what is this adventure you spoke of in your toast?"

"Our usual go-to? A movie marathon at your place?”

It was your turn to be inviting. “Well, maybe not quite so usual this time.”

Raising an eyebrow, he commanded, “Uber it is. We need to get you someplace warm.”

Someplace hot.

“Great,” you cheered, “I'll grab a bottle of your fave chardonnay. You deserve only the best”

You pulled yourself up across the bar to reach for a bottle of wine. Because it was just out of reach, you wiggled your body further across the counter, flailing your arms toward the wine. Giddy at the idea that your night was not over yet, you giggled “To us!” as you continued to thrash across the counter of the bar.

“What in the hell are you doing? What is THAT?” You heard him laugh as you continued to wiggle on your stomach. “You are leaving puddles of rainwater everywhere.” You felt his arms encircle your waist as he pulled you down from the bar. He spun you toward him as he pulled you into his body. He didn't let go, pressing himself harder against you. Every part of him felt hard against your body. You could no longer resist the feel of him. Not that you ever could.

Vetiver. Sandalwood. Musk.

You felt the earth move beneath you as you stumbled into him. Your damaged shoe sliding on the wet floor, coupled with finally succumbing to your desire for Benedict, knocked you off your balance. He reached down, hooking both your thighs from behind to lift your feet completely off the wet tile floor. Instinctually, you wrapped your legs around his waist. Without a word, Benedict pulled your shoes from your feet, each in its turn. He smirked, throwing the shoes across the floor and you both watched as they knocked over an easel that held a sign announcing his art show.

You felt a sudden jolt as Benedict repositioned his hands to grab your butt to stabilize both of you. You laced your hands around his neck as he pressed his forehead against yours. Your rapid breathing was in perfect syncopation with his.

You pressed against his cheek as you whispered into his ear, “I've wanted to do this for a very long time.” Pulling his collar away from his neck, you lapped at his bare skin to pull the taste of him into your mouth. Goosebumps rose from his skin with each taste.

He cleared his throat. “Me too,” he rasped. “And I want to keep doing that for a very long time.”

As if to prove his point, he pushed his face into the bare chest above the scooped neckline of your sweater and traced his tongue along its neckline. You never imagined that his lips discovering your body could feel so blissful.

You heard the insistent honking of a car horn outside the building but you couldn't bear to turn from Benedict to look outside. He glanced over your shoulder and you both knew that your Uber had arrived. You couldn't resist another lingering kiss.

"Let's go," he breathed into your mouth with authority and you both knew his demand had more than one meaning. He easily reached one arm over the counter of the bar and grabbed a bottle of wine. Wrapping his arm tightly around you while holding the bottle in his hand, he said “Running barefoot through the storm is not on the agenda for tonight.” He smirked as he carried you into the raging storm.

He literally threw you onto the backseat of the Uber, landing you butt first to the other side of the car with your legs across the backseat. He playfully stalked you on all fours crawling toward you across the seat. He called out your address to the driver without breaking his predatory eye contact. His white shirt had been drenched by pressing into your sweater during your make-out session and further by the storm. You couldn't wait to rip it open to reveal his chest. So, you didn't wait. You had waited long enough since the day that you met him.

The driver called back. "Between the storm and the traffic, you are in for a long ride"

He climbed on top of your body which was soaked in every way possible. His usual cheeky nature couldn't remain at bay as he whispered into your ear "That's what she said".

You both exploded with laughter as he said to the driver, "Take your time." He leaned into your neck and whispered against your ear "I know I will."

A guttural sound escaped your lips. It could only be followed by your favorite sound in your vocabulary.

Benedict…

“Benedict.”

The sound of your own voice startled you as you realized that you had said it out loud instead of in your own thoughts. “You are the best,” you added.

He answered by exploring your mouth with a deep soul kiss. As he pulled back from your lips, his trademark impish grin made another appearance across his face as if he was enjoying his own thoughts.

“Well,” he smiled, “the best is yet to come.”

#benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #benedict bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction

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rosewood-mountain · 3 months

Text

Rosewood Mountain

Chapter 2 - Body Horror

The relentless tapping of raindrops on the glass shattered the silence of the room, pulling Jacob from his restless sleep. The space briefly lit up as a flash of lightning pierced through a small gap in his curtains.

Jacob groans as he sits up on the couch, stealing a glance at the standing clock, ticking in the corner. The hands read 6:45. He had managed a few hours of sleep, but his body yearned for more. It had been days since he experienced more than a couple of hours of sleep, the fatigue weighing him down like a stone, dragging him deeper into the waves of madness.

With a sigh, he unfolds himself from where he had curled in on himself and stood. His bare feet pad across his creaky wooden floor. He slipped down an adjacent hallway into his kitchen, sneaking as if not to wake the house itself.

The back window presents the surrounding forest, trees creating an oppressive blanket of shadow obscuring all that call the woods home, and with everything roaming the woods, seldom does one feel alone.

Jacob shook his head, trying to ease his troubled mind. It was in vain. His vision narrowed on a flash of color on his counter, tucked in a corner, right beside an old teapot.

He caught his breath and his eyes burned as soon as he registered what he had been staring at.

A gold cross necklace.

“Fuck!”

Jacob staggers back, the mere sight of the cross burning him. His back slamming against the wall behind him as lightning blinds him briefly. The old house groans and shutters. The walls were awake now.

His teeth grit tight, eyes squeezed shut. His breath came in short pants as he swore he could hear Lucy’s soft voice.

“Your tea will be cold soon babe, hurry,” her voice echoes in his mind. Her soft face was etched behind his eyelids.

Lucy stood by his stove after a church service. Her soft hands unclasped her necklace and set it aside on the counter.

She smiled at him as he walked over, her hands wrapping around the mortician's neck, holding him close as she captured his lips in a soft kiss.

His visions of her vanished as quickly as they appeared. All that remained was her corpse, mutilated and perverted as she laid back on his embalming table. Jacob could only find solace in Detective Laz's sympathies, as they were the only thing left.

Jacob swore as he snapped back to his senses. His sleep-deprived brain blurs the lines between his memories and reality. He wanted to take the day off from work, to hide, to mourn, but Lucy couldn’t wait. He knew she couldn’t.

He stumbled to his feet. Grief had dragged him to the floor without him noticing. His hands lurch toward a dusty cabinet he hardly touched.

Inside, his late father’s old bottles of whisky stand. Each bottle invoked dread within Jacob. Taunting him. With a snap, he forcefully squeezes the closest bottle in his hand, feeling the plastic crumple beneath his grip. His movements were erratic as he found a glass, filling it to the brim with the lukewarm alcohol.

The house fell silent, still despite the storm raging outside. Watching Jacob with silent judgment for depending on vices. Jacob stood defiant against the feeling, stomping back to the living room, challenging the oppressive walls. Jacob crashes down onto the sofa, setting his drink down on the coffee table. His eyes narrowed toward a bottle of sleeping pills prescribed several months ago. With little thought, he retrieved a pill from the bottle and washed it down with his whiskey. His face contorts with the stinging burn of alcohol.

He takes a defeated gulp of the glass and lets his arm drop. The familiar sting of tears etched into his cheeks, unsure when he started crying. Jacob no longer wanted to feel. He storms back into the kitchen, abandoning his glass for the bottle he started on. He flings the cap off and begins chasing the bottom.

------

Laz sighs, taking a long drag from his cigarette. Eyes watching the rain pelt the windshield of his police cruiser. His headlights reflected against the wet asphalt. The idle chatter from his police stereo fades to background static.

The department and he had followed all leads to their ends. It was apparent the suspect had departed from the Loger Motel a day earlier. The name used was fake. All they had was the car. A car that likely was hundreds of miles away by now.

Laz sighs and turns down a familiar road, driving up to an old gas station. The buzzing fluorescent lights make it stand out like a lighthouse in the rain. Pulling in, he elected to just sit. His mind whirls as he tries to go over the facts again. To find an excuse for the killer to remain in town. Perhaps it was a local, and they had rented the car for the crime. That would explain why Lucy got in the vehicle, seemingly by her own free will.

With a curse, he slammed his hands against the wheel. Taking a final drag from his cigarette before snuffing it out in his ashtray.

The lull of the night droning on. For a moment, Laz considered calling it a night. Leaving his patrols to keep a lookout, to go back to his office and reevaluate.

The soft rumbling of a car caught his attention. With a quick glance in his rear-view mirror, he observed the car headlights approaching rapidly. The vehicle raced past the gas station, well over the speed limit. Just as he is about to turn on his light for a traffic stop, he stops. As it raced down the rain-drenched streets, a red Austin Allegro swerved down a turn towards the main road out of Rosewood, and up the mountain.

“Mother-fucker!” Laz nearly screams as his car roars to life. His foot slammed the petal to the floor as his tires spun for a moment, skidding out of the gas station with a squeal. Sirens blaring as he gives chase. Grabbing his radio, he tries to call for backup. Only to be met with static. Not willing to lose the suspect, he bit his tongue. He had taken bigger risks before. He had his whit's and his shotgun in the passenger seat.

-----

Jacob groans as his head pounds, an empty bottle slipping from his grasp to clang to the floor between his feet where he sat on that red sofa. The room warped and melted in on itself as the alcohol and pills mixed in an ungodly concoction.

Lifting his head, he stares straight ahead. His once cozy living room now spinning and rocking like a ship in a storm. His stomach lurched.

“Jacob.”

The mortician froze. Stuck in place, he hears his name called. Wondering if it was maybe the groaning of his home.

“Jacob.”

The man gulped and lifted his head, turning toward the sound. Eyes meeting a painting of Mother Mary. His heart stopped.

The painting had changed.

Jacob stared into wide, uncanny eyes that seemed to follow him. Her peaceful expression warped into one of rage, hate, and disgust as she witnessed the man on the sofa.

“Jacob.” The painting hissed at him.

The man leapt off the sofa scrambling across the floor, a guttural scream leaving his throat as he slammed a hand down. Hot pain shot up his arm. Looking down, Jacob heaves. A large nail impaled his through the palm. Blood oozed from around the wound. Lifting his hand he clutched at his wrist sobbing like a scared child as he continued to scoot further from the painting.

The painting was laughing now. Illuminated by lightning, the Mother caught up in a strange and inhuman euphoric state. Her mouth opened far too wide. A third large eye staring at him from inside the void of her maw.

“What are you!” Jacob shrieks as he tries to look for a way out, his vision tunneling leaving him disoriented and lost inside his own home. Eyes landed on other paintings, Angels, Saints, and the Messiah himself all staring with wide eyes. All depicting inhuman grins on their painted lips, the holy now perverted into beasts. A cacophony of laughter and hymns filled his ears.

“Jacob, Jacob, JACOB!” the voices chant louder and louder. The man wept in desolation as blood poured from his hand, staining the floor, the baseboards, and the walls.

Jacob felt himself dry heave. His stomach was flipping. Was he on the ceiling? His home felt as if it was crushing him.

“What do you want from me!?” he screams back at the walls. Watching as lightning flashed once more and in an instant, the expressions changed once again. All the faces were wiped clean. Blank slates of flesh.

“Forsaken”

Jacob grits his teeth wanting to deny it, but his voice has died. Sobbing loudly as he brought his hand in front of his face. Howling like an injured animal as he grabs hold of the long bent nail. Had he been sober he would have left it alone, to call for help, but in his altered state his logic was nonexistent. Yanking it free, sending blood across the room. Splattering against the painting of the holy Mother.

“Stand”

Jacob felt his lungs ache as he forced himself to obey, blooded hands leaving grotesque imprints on his wall. Was this what divinity was? Was this God's will?

“Please … .please. What have I done to forsaken you?”

He wept stumbling towards the photo again, a religious stupor falling over him. His mind crumbles with each slow tick of the clock. Every whisper and insult.

"Because you have done this, Cursed are you above all livestock and all wild animals!

You will crawl on your belly and you will eat dust all the days of your life."

Jacob felt his vision tunnel further, legs shaking as they began to give out. His hands fly out as he catches himself on the sofa. Falling onto it with a thud. On his back he stares at the ceiling unable to move, staring at his hand, through his hand. Warm blood dripped down his face. Unable to fight any longer, his hand fell to his chest limply, His wound oozed and soaked his shirt through to the skin as Jacob slipped into unconsciousness to the sounds of maniacal laughter and church hymns.

#body horror #character development #murder mystery #horror #lgbt representation #rosewood mountain #thriller #web series

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abloginnameonly · 7 months

Text

Fun

@oc-tober2023

This was becoming a routine.

Ubek would normally appreciate the predictability if he could count on her for anything else, stupid girl. All he’d asked her to do was drop a package at a house in the south district: two blocks down and one east from the town square, directly across from the large house with the green door, preferably without being noticed. And if she could manage that, then all she was expected to do after was wait in the designated spot back in the square.

So why, several hours later, did he find a swarm of children where there was only supposed to be one.

Braze had changed her outfit since that morning - she’d shown him before how she sewed two different patterns together so her top was reversible like his own coat, and how the sleeves could be pinned to different lengths - and her hair was down in short springy curls from the scarf she’d had them tied in, so she was at least doing the minimum. But the noise. At least a half dozen little bodies shouted and shrieked at a pitch that already made Ubek’s head pulse.

Maybe the girl really is as deaf as she pretends to be when I’m talking to her, he mused sourly.

Adding to the cacophony, she as rolling a small clay jar filled with seeds or pebbles or some other bits for a continuous shifting rattle while her scarf twirled and flitted about until Ubek was finally passing close enough to hear.

“With their hero now far away, the Thunder Queen grew bolder. She shouted to the people below loud enough for their armor to rattle, ‘Why do you all remain here like lambs in a butcher’s pen! This is your final warning: Leave now!’ CRASH!” She whirled the yellow scarf in a great circle over her head and flicked it out - snap - in front of their faces. The children started, then erupted into commotion.

“She’ll never win,” a chubby young boy declared. “The winds were already turning on her! They’ll bring the hero back!”

“She’s trying to get them to run because she’s afraid!” from another with matted hair.

“And the lake’s too sick with blood to give the Queen her water back! She’s weak! The hero will kill her dead, just you watch!”

…Sure.

Before Braze picked their attention back up, Ubek whistled a soft pattern. She caught it after his second call of it and made a quick scan of the crowd. Ubek was half turned away buying a pear. He didn’t particularly like them, but it was as good a prop as any. Transaction done and trusting Braze to follow, he turned and walked down a street. Behind him, Braze was making a reluctant goodbye.

“But we do need a hero to finish the story, right?”

“Yes! Yes!”

Hurry up.

“Then I charge you, my renegade little raindrops, to find one. Find our hero, wherever they may be!”

There were varying levels of assent and a polite effort of applause from some of the stand owners who’d been subjected to the noise nearby and the mass finally broke apart to allow Braze down an adjacent street. Ubek kept a leisurely pace until she met him at a corner and they continued on in the same direction.

“You were supposed to be at the bench,” he said after a block.

“Bench was taken.”

“Was all your sense taken too?” She rolled her eyes, but Ubek pulled her chin back to him. She was getting tall enough to actually meet his eyes. “I’m serious, you’re making a real habit of pulling out spectacles like this.”

“There were, like, two other entertainers there, relax. One was taking a break to fuck the fake fortune teller and another singing by the fountain.”

He sighed.

“That’s fine now, but what about-”

“It’s been fine the other times too,” she insisted. “I’m not as stupid as you expect me to be.”

“You have no idea how stupid I expect you to be.” Braze grinned like it was a joke. “Alright then, how much money did you get then?”

She had the audacity to laugh at that.

“Are you kidding? Most of those kids were barely ten, and not particularly wealthy ones at that.” Ubek had to take several long moments to process what the girl was saying. She dug around her pockets and pulled out three copper pieces. “Someone’s parents tossed this to me for watching her kid while she shopped, I guess.”

“Are you telling me-”

“Oh- No, wait. One of these is just left over from some food I grabbed.”

“Do you mean to tell me that you didn’t even earn anything while you were out there making a fool of yourself? Did you even try?” Was he angry? No, not quite. He couldn’t seem to work past “baffled.” It was enough to make him suspect whether he was actually the one who raised her the past thirteen years.

Despite keeping his voice even for the public setting they were in, Brazeheard something and her arms crossed. Now she was defensive, here we go.

“What?” she demanded. “I did what you asked. And you wanted me to wait in the area after. You found me, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but you-”

“And do you know how often people want guards to chase off strange loitering kids?”

He narrowed his eyes. He’d been a strange loitering kid once himself, that’s why he chose populated areas for her - specifically to try to avoid that. “You never mentioned-”

“Because I took care of it.”

Ubek gave her shoulder a smack - she interrupted him a couple times too many and he was pretty far past done with that. She scowled and huffed at him, but continued after with less attitude. Better.

“You always say you don’t wanna babysit (which is good, because you’re terrible with people that you’re not threatening) and that I should be able to do things on my own, but then you get all…pissy and weird when I do. It would have taken five minutes, tops, to finish what I was doing, but then you came in like a surly old cuss and made a big thing of it; now it’s weird that I left just like that after being there all afternoon.”

“I didn’t-” Damn this girl. He’d negotiated with some of the most dangerous people on the coast for much higher stakes than this. Why did he feel more and more often that he was losing conversations with this child. “I just need you to behave professionally. One of these days you’re going to get us both in trouble because you’re not paying attention.”

She glowered at him for a moment, then dropped her arms and looked away. But before he could conclude the conversation over, she mumbled quietly, “I was just having fun…”

He didn’t look at her, but he could see her in his peripherals. It was a stark change from just a few minutes ago. Well, it was bound to happen sooner or later, life was difficult for folks like them. Even her mother-

His jaw flexed. They continued walking in silence. Braze followed him into another right. Noise began to pick up ahead and, still not looking at her, he could feel her suspicions needling into him. Entering the square again, he could see the fountain musician packing his belongings away, and the fortune teller’s tent was still closed. Just the passive murmur of the crowd.

Ubek leaned himself back onto a bench.

“Well then, if you think your sudden departure could draw attention, wrap it up then. Should have said so to begin with.”

Braze stared at him, trying to read his face.

“You said you needed five minutes, so that’s all you have; Go!” he snapped.

It took another second for the relief and delight to swell over her face. Then she tamed herself, posturing as if she hadn’t really cared to begin with. He couldn’t tell if he was being mocked or she just picked that up from somewhere.

“Easy.” She tossed her hair.

“Shameful line of work, entertainers,” he called after her.

“Oh, is the thief going to preach to me?” she shouted back. He’d give her hell for talking like that out in public. Five minutes would give him plenty of time to build up steam. But he tossed the pear away while he waited. It was making his stomach twist.

#oc-tober #oc-tober2023 #braze #we love a paternal mentor figure who is so so emotionally stunted #voted number 1 least qualified in tricynth thirteen years in a row

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