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sp1cy-t0ss · 1 year

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Antares

https://archiveofourown.org/works/45534721

The first thing Nightwing hears upon regaining consciousness is ominous chanting. A man’s voice rings out over the rest, ranting about an Eternal King, infinite power, and -- oh boy -- sacrifices. He tunes it out to assess the situation.

He’s in an old warehouse. Robin’s here too, looking even more annoyed than Nightwing feels, and both of them have their hands and ankles bound in rope. His comm is on silent, just as he left it, like an idiot. The ranting man and his followers in matching robes are gathered around a ritual circle in the middle of the floor. Yeah, that tells him all he needs to know. They need to get out, now.

Unfortunately, that’s exactly when the leader finishes his speech and turns to them.

“So,” the man asks with a cruel smile. “Which of you ‘heroes’ will have the honor of bringing our Lord to this plane?”

“I will.” Robin’s voice is sharp, unyielding.

The man is obviously surprised to receive an actual answer to his taunt, but obliges. He pulls Robin away without another word.

“What?! No! Robin, you can’t--” Nightwing’s protest is cut off with a punch to the stomach from one of the robed lackeys.

“I have my reasons, Nightwing; it must be me.” Robin’s face reveals nothing, but he gives a subtle hand signal: I have a plan.

Nightwing forces himself to calm down. They’ll get out of this. He just has to trust his Robin. While everyone’s eyes are off him, he quietly works at the amateur knots.

The leader drags Robin into the circle without a fight. He raises a jeweled dagger, intentions clear...

But Robin is faster. He bites his own wrist, hard, and spits his blood into the circle. The runes light up in terrible Lazarus green, and Robin pushes himself upright with a malicious grin.

The lead cultist scrambles back from the circle and into a deep bow. The chanting stops as his minions follow suit. Robin continues to look far too smug for his situation. Nightwing feels a headache coming on somewhere under his renewed panic.

This is his plan?!

There’s a blinding flash of light. When the spots clear from Nightwing’s vision, the Eternal King is floating in the circle, mere feet from the bound Robin.

The Eternal King isn’t quite the grotesque horror he expected. Their body is a glittering black void, a sleek humanoid shadow with misty white hair and bright, bright eyes of toxic green. A cold fog rolls off of their body in waves.

“Antares,” the shadow rumbles, and Nightwing feels static thrum in his bones with the sound. The room is painfully cold, but the King doesn’t seem aggressive yet. Maybe they really can bargain their way out of this mess.

Robin doesn’t flinch. He looks the Eternal King right in the eyes, utterly fearless, and smirks. “Hello, Beloved.”

What?

The King stares silently, floating closer. For a long moment, no one moves. No one speaks.

“My lord, does the sacrifice please you?” The ringleader cuts in, standing up with a greedy gleam in his eyes.

Something in the air changes as the King turns toward the man. Something cold, electric, heavy under the skin. Nightwing suppresses a shiver as he works through the last of the rope.

“You d̵̢̛a̵̼̽ṙ̴͎e̵͙̐.”

The leader pales and falls to his knees. “My Lord, if this offering is insufficient, we have another--”

The King s̴̱̖̺̺̓͊̕̕ć̵͇͇͔̈r̴̥͐e̸̥̬͌̂̌̊a̴̭̔̓̀̔͘m̵̯͑̋͌͠s̵̗̤̻̭̍̿, a furious howl that blurs Nightwing’s vision and claws his ears. The sound is everywhere, driving him to his knees. Growing shadows seem to absorb his little brother just as Nightwing realizes he’s blacking out.

They’re falling, they’re falling someone help they’re screaming he’s screaming make it stop dead on impact blood and bones make it stop make it STOP--

When he comes back to himself, it’s quiet. Nightwing blinks tears from his eyes, gasping for frigid air that pierces his lungs like knives. The floor outside the circle is covered in blood splatter. The cultists have all been struck down, and many aren’t moving.

But he’s not looking at them.

Because the monster is coiled around Robin like a snake, eyes burning as it surveys the room. Robin seems unharmed for now, but he has to get his baby brother away from that thing.

He steps forward, and those endless green eyes lock onto him. It snarls at his approach, revealing multiple rows of teeth. Claws subtly tighten on Robin’s shoulders. Nightwing sinks into a combat stance, and the creature braces itself to leap.

Pure, animal instinct screams that Nightwing won’t survive this fight.. It doesn’t matter. He’ll give his all like he always has, and Robin can escape. The others will find a way to take it down. He just has to buy time.

“Dove, it’s alright.”

To Nightwing’s amazement, the creature freezes. It turns to look at Robin, warbling in apparent confusion before turning back to Nightwing with a hiss.

Robin grabs its face in both hands and forces it to look at him. “No. That’s Nightwing, remember? He will not harm us. I am safe. We are safe.” His voice is steady, soothing as he gently presses their foreheads together. A spark of awareness slowly returns to ‘Dove’s’ eyes.

“Come back to me.”

The monster sags in Robin’s grip, slowly folding in on itself until a nearly-human teen with snowy white hair is left floating gently in its place.

Robin smiles, gentle and shockingly warm. “There you are.”

‘Dove’ is shaking. Their eyes are locked on Robin, as though he’s the only thing in their universe. “Antares,” they breathe, before wrapping Robin in a tight hug.

Robin briefly looks to Dick, gesturing toward the cultists. He then returns his attention to the distraught being, resting his chin on their head and both hands on their back. The obvious dismissal makes Nightwing uneasy, but the kid has a point. They'll just have to check him for hypnosis or mind control back at the Cave.

Now that Nightwing is actually looking at the cultists, their injuries are horrific. Deep lacerations, stab wounds, frostbite, severed limbs...none of them seem likely to die with medical treatment, but every last one is maimed.

The ringleader is worst of all. His eyes are gouged out, and his hands ripped off and cauterized by the same unearthly frost that burns scattered marks into his skin. An unfamiliar symbol has been clawed into his chest.

Nightwing looks back to the circle, where Dove is quietly sobbing. Their face is tucked securely into Robin’s neck, and Nightwing hears whispers of I was scared and can’t lose you too.

This is the same person?

By the time the cultists are all secured and the police have been called, Dove seems to have calmed down. Time to play the diplomat. Again.

Damn, maybe Steph has a point about Eldest Daughter Syndrome.

“I, uh, hate to interrupt, but we should probably get out of here, yeah? GCPD will be here in a couple minutes,” he proposes with a friendly smile.

Dove wipes their eyes. “Right.” Then they look around the room and wince. “Uhm, sorry you? Had to see that? I...panicked. You’re okay though, right? Not hurt or anything?” The question is disarmingly earnest, and there’s nothing but concern in their eyes. Hm.

“Nah, not a scratch,” Nightwing dismisses. Then he remembers he’s apparently talking to a king. “Thank you for saving Robin, Your Highness,” he adds with a bow of his head.

“Nuh-uh, no titles. Gross.” The King makes a face, then smiles with renewed cheer. “Call me Phantom. He/him, ghost, and general pain in the ass, at your service!” He floats higher and punctuates his announcement with a midair flip. “You might as well know, since we’re gonna be seeing each other a lot now.”

Crap. “I’m afraid I don’t follow,” Nightwing ventures.

‘Phantom’ exchanges a meaningful look with Robin. Nightwing barely has time to register the mischief on both their faces before Robin pulls the being down into a kiss.

A deep kiss now. Really deep. Yeah, they’ve definitely forgotten he’s here.

When they finally separate, Robin looks quite satisfied. Phantom, however, sticks out a forked tongue and scrunches his face. “Blech, blood. What did you...” His eyes land on Robin’s still-bloody wrist, then the droplets still in the circle.

“You didn’t.” A grin creeps across his face. “You have me on soul speed dial and you still hijacked a whole-ass summoning!”

“Tt. I was making a point.” Robin crosses his arms.

Phantom cackles. “You are literally the most dramatic person I’ve ever met!” he crows.

Robin raises an eyebrow and gestures to the warehouse full of mangled cultists. Phantom opens his mouth to retort, but it’s at this point that Nightwing finally manages to pull his jaw off the floor and speak.

“Robin,” he says with deliberate calm. “What the fuck.”

And then they hear police sirens. Fantastic.

“Crap. Don’t worry, I got it!” Phantom declares as he rips a green hole in existence. Robin is unfazed, which is rapidly getting less and less surprising.

A woman in the corner stirs. Phantom makes a ‘one moment’ gesture before he stalks over and yanks her forward with a growl. “You’ve kept your tongue for a reason. Spread the word: Robin is mine.” (Robin stands taller, obviously pleased by that extremely concerning statement.) The woman nods frantically, and Phantom drops her to the ground.

Without further preamble, Phantom zips back over and shoves both vigilantes through the rip.

Just like that, they’re all in Damian’s bedroom. The two boys immediately sit together on the edge of the bed, while Dick remains standing. Dick doesn’t even know where to begin, so he can only give a helpless ‘why’ sort of gesture. Thankfully, Damian seems to take pity on him.

“Richard, this insufferable fool is my Beloved. His name is Danny, and he is seventeen.” Then he smirks. “You may refer to him as High King Phantom of the Infinite Realms; The Tyrant’s Bane, True Balance, Son Of Stars, Pride of Time, Death’s Chosen--”

The ghost groans dramatically, flopping across Damian’s lap like a wet noodle. “Oh my gawd, Dames, why would you tell him that?”

"It is very important that Richard recognizes your position and authority.” Damian says, not even trying to sound convincing.

Danny reaches up and pushes at Damian’s face. It brings to mind a pair of cats, especially with Damian doing his best to look annoyed instead of fond. “Betrayal! I want a divorce!”

That’s the last straw. Dick chokes on his own spit and has to thump his chest a few times to breathe right again. With monumental effort, he manages to wheeze out a strangled “Are you MaRriEd?!”

Danny tries to sputter out a reply, but Dick is distracted by Damian laughing. It’s a low, light sound, with no attempt made to disguise it.

“Of course not,” Damian says. He cards a hand through Danny’s hair, the other boy sighing contently and looking up at him with adoring neon eyes. “We've only courted for seven months now. It will be another three years before we wed.”

Dick is just. Gonna ignore that last bit. For his own sanity. “Wait, how did you keep a whole boyfriend secret for seven months? In this family?”

“Bribery.” “Threats.”

Yeah, that sounds about right. Babs and Duke probably know then.

“Cool, good to know. One more question.” Well, more like a billion, but he may as well start with an icebreaker before the inevitable interrogation. Besides, it’s a big brother's duty to embarrass his siblings. “Why Dove?”

Damian says nothing, but his deep blush is almost audible.

“Because I’m cute and fluffy!” Danny chirps.

“Hardly,” Damian scoffs. “It’s because you are raucously annoying and constantly crash into windows.”

Literally everything about this situation is baffling, but Danny looks so offended that Dick can’t help but laugh.

“You lying asshole!” Danny screeches.

Damian turns to Dick. “He attempted to use a grapple three times and broke eleven windows; four of them with his face. I have videos.” Danny gasps, the two start bickering, and Dick is left to his thoughts once more.

Even as the pair separate to point fingers and trade increasingly creative insults, their body language is completely relaxed. As much as Dick is panicking about a powerful undead monarch around their family, Damian is happy. He has been for months, now that Dick thinks about it. He’s been loosening up a little, leaving the manor more, and even mentioning a few new friends (though he refuses to use the word.)

Whoever or whatever Danny is, he’s been good for him.

“Well,” Dick cuts in, interrupting an inventive declaration about overripe cheese. “We’ll obviously need to talk about this. But for what it’s worth,” he smiles. “I’m happy for you, Baby Bat.”

With that said, Dick walks out of the bedroom. Danny gives him a grateful smile, and a quiet thank you, Richard can be heard as he closes the door behind him.

Dick walks away at a leisurely pace until he reaches the end of the hallway, where he promptly breaks into a sprint toward the Cave. Checking the Batcomputer to make sure Damian hasn’t noticed the planted bug yet, he turns on his comms. Unsurprisingly, the entire family is yelling and demanding answers.

Well, at least he won’t be the only one having a heart attack tonight.

#dp x dc #dead serious #they're 16 and 17 #danny says he wants a divorce at every mild inconvenience #danny has dozens of titles and damian has memorized every last one entirely to annoy him #they alternate between adorable cats and those heckling muppets #spice writes #dc x dp #danny x damian

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barefoothighlander · 1 year

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i loved your simon x sunshine wife can you please do one with konig ? love your work!!! <3

of course, thank you so much!

warnings: none just fluff, mention of anxiety

It was a pretty big shock to the team when they found out you and König were married, he was always quiet, keeping to himself where as you would burst into rooms, chatting with anyone who wanted to.

Contrary to popular belief he was talkative, but only when you were home, he'd tell you about his day, animals he'd encounter on his way home if he saw something he thought you'd find interesting.

He loved listening to you talk, ambling about whatever was on your mind, his eyes practically heart-shaped at the way your face lit up, your infectious smile that he loved.

You'd find things to surprise him with, somedays you'd try to cook or bake something that would remind him of his home considering he spent so much time away.

On his most recent deployment, you made it your mission to try and learn some German to surprise him.

You extended your arms to him as he entered the door, "Willkommen zu hause, meine liebe" You struggle through the words, squinting your eyes as you try to remember them. Even behind his hood, you could see his face light up, his eyes crinkling as he smiled, "Where did you learn that?", "Tried to learn some while you were gone, is it terrible?" You scrunch your face and he shakes his head, stepping forward to wrap his arms around you, "You're pronunciation is off but, es ist perfekt, meine liebling"

He enjoyed how tactile you were, always having your hands on him somehow, his favourite was when you played with his hair after a long day. Every morning before he left for work he'd wake you up to braid it for him, insisting that you did it so much better than him and you happily obliged.

You were a naturally curious and extroverted person, stopping in the street to have conversations with strangers, asking to pet their dogs as you walked hand in hand with him, the idea of chatting with strangers made him nervous, scared they'd be intimidated by him but you always held his hand through interactions.

If he was anxious you'd pull him aside and wrap your arms around him, providing some sort of pressure on his chest to help him relax, reminding him to breathe.

He was utterly surprised when you first began dating, his face flushed as you asked him out on a date, most people crossed the street when they saw him, his large mask-clad form roaming the streets, but not you, you didn't treat him differently than any other person.

It took him a few months to be comfortable enough to show you his face, nervous you'd dislike the way he looks but he practically melted into your touch when you stroked a thumb across his cheek, tucking loose hair behind his ear.

"It's long, your hair, I thought it'd be short" "You don't like it" "I love it"

The wedding was small, held at your home with just a few friends, the team and minimal family, you had let him choose the food for the occasion while you took to decorations. Picking flowers from the garden that the two of you had made, it helped with his stress to tend to the flowers, having to be responsible for something so fragile.

You had gotten closer to the team and encouraged him to do the same, inviting them over on weekends and stopping by the base when they were there, it was no surprise that you got along with the men and it helped him get to know them better, lightly laughing along as you joked with Soap and Price.

"Cannae imagine how big your kin will be, I mean the man is massive" König practically choked on the air in his throat as Soap joked. "You have no idea, Johnny" You laughed, König dropped his head in embarrassment, laughing while you leaned to rest your head on his shoulder.

It was a weekly occurrence that you had to remind him that you weren't made of glass, every touch so gentle and careful like it he pressed too hard you'd shatter.

In public his hands always sought some part of your body, whether they settled on your waist or lower back, you grounded him.

He'd complain a lot about how you'd steal food from his plate but the truth was he thought it was cute, how you'd try to sneak bites away while he wasn't looking, or attempt to distract him while he was cooking so you could pick at the food.

Sometimes when he was really tired or stressed he'd slip back into German, forgetting that you couldn't understand every word and apologizing.

"will dich nicht verlassen" He grumbled, you hummed in response, turning his head to peak an eye at you "M'sorry, forgot for a minute" "S'okay, I like hearing you speak" "You can't understand me" "Your face says more than you think" You smile, kissing his forehead while his arms wrapped around you, tugging you into him.

It was a struggle every time he left home, not knowing when he'd be home, but the wait was always worth it, watching him walk through the door and immediately relax his shoulders at the sight of you, his eyes staring at you the same way they did when you first met.

Willkommen zu hause, meine liebe (welcome home my love)

es ist perfekt, meine liebling (it’s perfect my darling)

will dich nicht verlassen (i don’t wanna leave you)

#konig #cod konig #konig fluff #konig call of duty #konig x you #konig imagine #konig x reader #cod x reader #cod mw x reader #cod mw2 #mw2022 #konig mw2

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agentnico · 3 months

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Dune: Part Two (2024) review

I’m fully aware that the Dune sequel has been hit by acclaim from both critics and audiences, and I shall share my own thoughts in due course, but also whilst presenting itself as a serious and sophisticated piece of artsy science fiction tackling challenging themes of religion and politics, from a marketing standpoint this film has been a major farcical meme. From the popcorn buckets shaped like suggestive sand worms (or more so accurately as deformed buttholes) to the viral TikTok video of an unnamed man riding a makeshift sand worm around a cinema lobby on his way to Arrakis, or more likely to one of the gazillion screenings of Dune: Part Two. But yes, absolutely mad bonkers advertising techniques, and not at all reflective of how seriously and straight faced the actual film plays. Anyway, let’s talk Duuuuuuuuuuuuuuuneee…..

Plot: Paul Atreides unites with Chani and the Fremen while seeking revenge against the conspirators who destroyed his family. Facing a choice between the love of his life and the fate of the universe, he must prevent a terrible future only he can foresee.

Controversial opinion - I was not a fan of the first Dune. I thought it was all spectacle and no substance, and even then in regards to said spectacle, it was just sand. Lots of sand and bland dark visuals. I understand that the first movie acts as a massive exposition piece with lots of world building and introductions of all the characters and various political families and the spice trade and all that sweet jazz, but honestly it all felt so dragged out. Also a lot of narrative choices felt really immature and I did not buy it. In fact, the only memorable part for me was that female voice screaming on the music score every time something crazy happened, and my does that woman have some strong vocal pipe work! Like damn, her screams…. I really felt them!

Going into Dune: Part Two, I was very much of two mindsets. One was more so a feeling of obligation to watch it, as I wasted 3 hours of my life watching the first one that I felt I deserved some kind of closure for my efforts. The other being Denis Villeneuve. Aside from the first Dune, he’s a director that has constantly impressed me with his unique vision and style. Simply look at his past filmography! Prisoners. Enemy. Arrival. Sicario. All impressive pieces of genre filmmaking. Then there’s Blade Runner 2049, that took the classic Ridley Scott movie and managed to improve on it and become one of the most thrilling science fiction epics of the last decade. Also the trailers looked appropriately exciting, and it seemed like the second movie was actually gonna deal with some serious shit finally. Again, my problem with the first Dune wasn’t that it was slow. I mean, I can happily watch Paris, Texas any day of the week and be mesmerised by the empty yet beautiful takes of the American desert. It’s more-so that the first Dune felt aimless and messy. As for Dune: Part Two?

Well, if we’re going to use The Lord of the Rings terminology, and boy am I happy to refer to the dear-to-my-heart Middle Earth whenever I have the chance, then Dune: Part Two holds the scale of The Two Towers. I may not agree with all of it, and there are still some moments that drag, though The Two Towers is also guilty of that - I’m looking at you Treebeard! But overall this is one hell of a cinematic experience and achievement. Visually for one this is eye-candy. And yes, yet again there’s lots of sand, but this time around Villeneuve manages to find very creative ways to add/take away colour to make many sequences truly impressive. There’s an early scene where the Fremen are fighting Harkonnen goons in the desert and the entire thing is seeped in this blood orange palette, reminiscent of the Martian Chronicles, and then there’s the part where we are introduced to the Harkonnen home planet where the entire screen is drenched in hardcore intense black-and-white due to their sun only giving out white and black light, and instead of fireworks there are these watercolour stroked exploding in the sky, to of course the much talked about eye-dropping sand worm riding into battle scene that had the feel of the giant elephants appearing in The Return of the King, and yes that was another most delightful reference to Lord of the Rings! As I was saying though, the entire movie visually is certainly something to be in awe of.

Also Hans Zimmer’s score!! Of course the man’s a genius, having composed so many of cinema’s greatest musical compositions. I can recommend his Live in Prague performance! Hit after hit, and I find myself spinning it on my record player a good few times. Hans Zimmer’s Dune: Part Two soundtrack feels like a thunderously bombastic continuation and expansion of the first film’s more quiet and moody opener, and that shift in tone allows for some truly spectacular weaving of the composer’s thematic tapestry for Dune – with the finest new thread being the absolutely gorgeous love theme for Paul and Chani. A truly beautiful piece that echoes the heartbreaking tragic nature of the central romance of the film. Needless to say I’ve already pre-ordered the limited edition coloured vinyl of Dune 2’s soundtrack from Mutant (the new Mondo).

As for the narrative, as that is where I felt the first film faltered the most in my humble opinion (which I share so publicly online). I really do feel like the sequel is a major set up, for since the first one focused more on the endless word building and set-ups, this movie is all about the character developments. The scope is still big with the various political and religious elements that are tackled and explored throughout, however at the same time Dune: Part Two manages to feel more intimate compared to its predecessor, with the unravelling of the romance between Paul and Chani, but more so the inner struggles of Paul Atreides, as he tries to balance his emotions of revenge with the feeling of wanting to belong somewhere, as well as his denial of being called the so-called Messiah to the Fremen people. Look, the idea of the chosen one has been a concept that has been done over and over again, however I felt here they managed to really make it feel unique and different, with Paul choosing not to take this major responsibility due to visions of the future where he sees this choice result in darkness and dread, yet at the same time realising he has no choice but to follow his destiny and calling. It’s powerful stuff.

The cast list is stacked in this one. Timothee Chalamet is a rising star, having previously excelled his dramatic chops in Call Me by Your Name and his charismatic whimsy in last year’s Wonka, but this is by far his most impressive acting feat. You truly feel his character turning from boy to man, and it’s a real and raw performance. Zendaya shares great chemistry with him, but also in her own right gives a strong turn as a warrior Fremen conflicted with what she sees and thinks. Javier Bardem’s Stilgar adds a slice of surprising humour to the mix, being so obsessed with Paul being part of the prophecy that anything he’d do, Stilgar would find that to be part of what has been foretold. Paul Atreides could literally fart and Stilgar would observe in wonder proclaiming “as it was written”. There’s also a tiny No Country for Old Men reunion with Bardem being joined by Josh Brolin, who’s alright by the way, though it’s a typical Brolin brute role. Charlotte Rampling as the Reverend Mother continues being truly despicable and honestly that wench deserves to be put in her place - the movie’s ending is very satisfying in this regard. There’s also some newcomers to the Dune world too. Florence Pugh as the Princess reminded me a lot of Padme from Star Wars, and Christopher Walken I felt was tad miscast as the Emperor. Don’t get me wrong, Walken is a great actor, but his way of speech has been impersonated and overdone so many times that it is difficult to take him seriously in a role like this. Minus a couple of strong deliveries Walken felt really lazy here. You know who wasn’t lazy though? Austin Butler! This guy understood the assignment, playing the psychotic nutter Feyd-Rautha and he’s truly unrecognisable. Even his voice is different. Gone is Elvis and in cometh his Skarsgard impression! He’s brutal and maniacal and was honestly superb, and I wish there was more of him in this movie.

Again, it’s far from a perfect movie. There are parts still that drag, and certain times where things feel surprisingly rushed, but overall this is an experience through and through, and unlike my feelings after the first film, here I find myself really looking forward to the inevitable third part. In fact f*ck it, who am I kidding - this movie is bloody incredible!! Like I can’t even - it’s abso-fricking-lutely spectacular!! And by the way I read a bit about the Frank Herbert Dune books now and the future sequels are gonna be mad, just saying. Paul’s son becomes this half-man half-worm known as the God Emperor! Things are gonna get weird! Anyway, Dune: Part Two - go see it if you haven’t already. And in Austin Butler’s voice: “may thy knife chip and shatter”.

Overall score: 9/10

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kotias · 5 months

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We Are In Our Eden - Gentle Winter

Part of the series We Are In Our Eden, co-written with @daneecastle and all set in That South Down Cottage.

Gentle Winter

Word count: 671 words

Winter had settled much quicker than usual in the region.

One week, Crowley was basking in the sun in their garden, the next week he was shivering in a blanket and clutching the hot pocket that Aziraphale had prepared for him against his stomach. Shuffling around the cottage like a clumsy ghost, he was seeking any source of heat he could find, desperate to keep himself from falling into his usual winter slumber. But eventually, his body complained loudly enough that he caved, and stayed in bed for the entire day, gorging himself into the angel's lingering warmth and smell.

This. This had to be his best winter yet.

He had tried to convince Aziraphale to stay one hour -two hours -come on angel, you have all day, stay!- But sadly, it didn't work. He did not fully despair however- like the brat that he could be, he would call out to him regularly, asking for undivided attention and for the return of his warmth and smell into the bed, even for just five, ten minutes. And of course, the angel indulged. He was holding him tight, nuzzling into his neck, purring into his ear, peppering kisses wherever skin appeared.

“Crowley! Your kisses are distracting me. Either you do something about it or you let me get up so I can make a hot bath for us. What is it?"

Crowley huffed into his neck, refusing to budge. Oh, a bath sounded tempting! “No moving. Miracle the damn bathwater in and I'll get us in it." He was getting drunk on his smell, desperate to keep him close.

More than once in the past, he had mumbled about only catching up on six millennia of waiting, at times when Aziraphale was gently complaining about having things to do, requiring them to let go. He was so full of it all, of the love he had not been allowed to feel.

“Crowley!" He tried to wiggle free but the snake was not letting loose his coils. “Crowley, dear, I can't miracle everything. Sometimes the good things involve actually going through the process of doing it." He waited for a moment, but Crowley was far too busy growling with content against his body.

“That's a big fat lie, angel, there's nothing worse than waiting for the bath to fill. Look-" He snapped his fingers, and the bath was filled with hot water.

“Crowley, you are being such a brat!" He tried to get free again, but the demon was quite adamant about his need to stay tightly coiled around him.

Of course, he was eventually rewarded with fingers going through his hair, making him purr into his neck. “Your turn now, bring us into the bathtub."

“Ah- hmph. Fine. Then let loose your coils, you wily snake!"

He huffed again, but obliged, letting him go for the time being. "Off we pop then, angel."

Aziraphale sat up and got out of bed. He turned around and pulled the warm blankets off the demon and off the bed entirely, like the petty bastard that he was. “Now get up and get undressed!" He turned away, starting to undo his nightgown. “Or no Hanky Panky!"

Crowley's jaw dropped. “I am in shock!" He slapped the back of his hand on his forehead. “Betrayal! By my own lover! Help me, universe, get me out of this terrible situation!" He cried out, just loud enough that he was confident Aziraphale heard each of his lamentations. But he was fucking cold, and there was no way he'd stay in this situation, now with the covers all gone and having lost their warmth. Concentrating, he let the presence of the angel fill his mind, let himself figure out where exactly he was, before snapping his fingers and leaving his clothes behind as he popped out of the room. “Seriously angel, was it really that difficult?" He mused, now inside the bathtub with barely a splash, an arm resting on its edge, looking at his lover with keen romantic interest.

#good omens #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #good omens s2 #good omens season 2 #aziracrow #good omens 2 #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley #good omens season 3 #GO3 #good omens 3

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5tar-5hin3 · 5 months

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⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹

John Dory x Reader

“A Chance He Can Take”

Part 1 : “An Unlikely Beginning”

Part 2: “And an Unexpected Ending”

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹

Synopsis:

A letter changes everything y/n knows about John Dory’s life.

They learn about how John Dory has brothers, and how he very much doesn’t want to save them.

He’s a terrible brother, and a worse boyfriend…

Well, non-boyfriend.

But someone has to save Floyd. And if John Dory won’t, then y/n will.

Words: 1632

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹

A/N:

Thank you guys so much for the amazing support on the first part! Here is the second and final part for this fic!

TW for one swear word.

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹

A letter arrived addressed to a ‘John Dory’. When y/n opens it, the pieces fall together.

John was hiding all this from them. When y/n thought about it. They really didn’t know anything about John. Just the surface stuff.

The letter said something about his brother, Floyd? Y/n never knew he had a brother, let alone brotherS.

“BroZone? Like THE BroZone?” They muttered to themselves as they read further.

An hour later, John came home.

“John Dory.” Y/n was leaning on the counter.

Hearing his name come out of their mouth stopped him.

“John. Dory. The leader.” They threw the letter at him.

“Y/n?” He began to read the letter. “What’s this about?”

“That’s why JD felt so familiar.” They shook their head. “You hid this from me?” They were hurt. “Did you not trust me? Did you think I’d run off and tell the world?”

“It’s not like that-“

“Explain yourself then!” They yelled, their brows furrowed. A nasty look on their usually sweet face.

“I don’t have to tell you anything!” He rolled his eyes and looked away. “It’s not like you’re my girlfriend or something! You’re just- a friend, with benefits.” He admitted.

Silence.

Even the forest outside went quiet.

It seemed as if time stopped. A collective response from the universe.

A weight came down on y/n’s chest.

“What?” Y/n was taken aback. Their voice very, very soft.

Was everything they did together nothing to him? Did it mean nothing? How could he just admit this? All that time spent together and he said it like this? Were all the times he said ‘I love you’ just lies?

“I didn’t want to tell you about my past, because I didn’t think you needed to know! I didn’t want to relive it either! My brothers left me!” He yelled back. “I just wanted to live without having people to disappoint me.” He growled. “But look at me now. You go poking around in my personal life and broken a trust I’m not sure we can get back.” He paused. “You’ve disappointed me.”

They stood in silence. Y/n struggled to find the words. They pushed back their hair and laughed.

“Wow. So it’s like that? You never loved me? You hate me, and hate your brothers?” Y/n scoffed. “Can’t you grow up a little?” They looked John up and down. They never knew this man could be so pathetic. “Be a big brother, your family needs you. Put the past in the past, JD.” They rolled their eyes. “I don’t care if you hate me now, but you have an obligation to be part of the family. You have to save him. This could be your one shot to get your family together again. So you don’t have to be a sad, lonely sack of shit.”

John was thrown back. He had never seen this side of y/n before. He wasn’t sure what to feel. Like there was more people mad at him than just y/n.

“What you decide to do is up to you. But if you’re gonna sit around and do nothing, then I’ll go out and save him. Someone has to.” Y/n stormed off to grab their hiking gear. They were gonna need help if they were gonna save Floyd. John sighed.

He still cared about y/n. Even if he messed up and said those things. He watched as y/n left Rhonda. The door slammed shut.

What should he do? Go after them?

“Come on Ruby.” He heard it faintly.

Were the last words he ever said to them going to be ‘You’ve disappointed me?’ No. They couldn’t be. His heart wouldn’t allow it. He rushed to the door and ran out.

“Y/n! Wait.” John still loved his brothers. He knew y/n was right. He had to save him. “Let’s go save Floyd.” He said softly.

At first, y/n wasn’t even sure they wanted to go with John. They didn��t even turn back when they first heard John’s voice. They had only paused. He just broke 5 years worth of a relationship down in an instant. He admitted they meant nothing to him. He was already ignoring what had happened.

They growled. They walked back in almost a stomp. But they couldn’t pull it off with their light feet.

“We’ll talk about this,” they motioned between John and themselves. “Later. But right now, you need all the help you can get to save Floyd.”

It got more and more difficult explaining what they were to each of John’s brothers. Because y/n was currently mad at John. John was unsure about y/n. They simply said they were friends. Hiking buddies that met in the Neverglades. But everyone could tell there was some sort of tension. They couldn’t tell if it was a hateful one or a romantic one.

Poppy was the one to speculate most, more so after she saw their attitude towards John. The sweetness they had in their eyes and the warmth in their touch.

Y/n had a caring nature and made sure everyone was taken care of along the way. Even John got the treatment. Though they really disliked treating him so nicely after what he did.

But when Branch was leaving, he said he was leaving first. He didn’t want to be left again. He didn’t want John Dory to have the title of ‘first to leave’.

“First to leave?” They muttered under their breath. They looked at John Dory. They were even more upset now.

Not only did John hide his past, but he lied too. He was becoming a stranger all over again.

Y/n followed Branch out. Someone had to help him. Soon enough Poppy and Tiny Diamond joined too.

*Velvet and Veneer have captured BroZone*

Y/n and the others watched from the vent as the members of BroZone were put into diamonds. They saw Velvet and Veneer throw Rhonda into the closet as the twins boasted about their upcoming concert and how talented they’d be now.

It pained y/n’s heart to see John in one of those awful purple diamonds. Even if they were mad, they still cared. But it served him right for being so heartless towards them. Velvet had taken John and Floyd. Veneer got Clay and Bruce.

“We have to help them.” Poppy said. And they did just that. They took Rhonda and raced after the duo. Confronting them was a whole other story.

They pulled out Clay and Bruce. But getting John and Floyd had proven to be more of a challenge.

“Give me that.” Y/n took a sticky hand from Viva. “If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself.” They threw the hand right onto Velvet’s jacket. Before she could pry it off, y/n had kicked her in face. She pried out John but was caught by Velvet’s hand. She growled as she threw the little troll overboard. “Help!” They screamed as the barely clung to the ship’s edge.

“Y/n!” John ran over. He couldn’t help or see but he still tried. “I’ll get you!” Poppy was ultimately the one to help them up. By now Velvet and Veneer were way out of reach.

The bunch was helpless.

Then Branch began to sing. It threw everyone off at first. It was strange. But then John Dory joined, then Clay, and Bruce. It was like watching them get their spark again.

Soon enough y/n, Poppy, and Viva joined too. Y/n was drawn to be closer to John. Just as Poppy was to Branch. It was something they couldn’t deny. Y/n was still mad, but for a moment they forgot and enjoyed John Dory’s company.

The brothers were released from their diamond prisons and every one of them rushed to Floyd’s side. Y/n was anxious. Floyd didn’t look too good. Their heart sank just as everyone else’s did.

Was he gone?

A moment of silence fell over the group. But then Floyd stirred awake. He was fine! His brothers rejoiced and shared a hug.

Brozone had come back together once more. With a couple new additions. John looked at y/n. Y/n was smiling. They were happy to see John happy.

“Y/n.” John walked over to them. “I’m sorry.”

Hearing an apology from John was not something they expected. John was much too egotistical to apologize.

“And?” Y/n pressed.

“I’m sorry I said you were just a friend. You’re so much more to me. I was upset but that doesn’t justify what I said. I’m really, really sorry.” He took their hands. “Can you forgive me?”

Y/n thought about it. They looked at John Dory and sighed. A soft smile across their lips.

“I forgive you, but that doesn’t mean I’m not mad.” They remarked. “You’re still on thin ice.” John was more than happy to hear they forgave him. He knew they were only joking.

He scooped them up into a hug and he smiled. He laughed with y/n. He gently set them down.

“Can I ask you something?”

Y/n raised an eyebrow.

“Of course?” John dug something out of his pocket. He looked at the small box in his hand for a moment. He got down on one knee. “JD?”

“I’ve made my fair share of mistakes. I was scared of taking chances on relationships before. I was scared of actually admitting I wanted to be committed to you.” He looked up at y/n. “But you’re a chance I’m willing to take.” He opened the box and inside was a beautiful ring.

“Will you marry me?” Y/n’s hands flew to cover their mouth. Their eyes already flooding with tears. They laughed.

“Oh John-“ They took a deep breath. “Yes! Yes!” They smiled brightly and kissed John Dory. The brothers were surprised, but happy. And it’s safe to say Poppy and Viva were thrilled to plan a wedding.

After a moment of just holding each other, y/n spoke.

“I love you John Dory.”

He smiled.

“I love you more.”

#trolls #trolls3 #trollsbandtogether #john dory x reader #john dory #brozone

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jweekgoji · 2 years

Note

Hi <3 are you taking requests? If so, could i request some headcanon/senarios of yandere!five x yandere!reader? I love the manipulative reader series you did and imagine this version to be alittle similar with a dynamic sorta similar to joe and love from the netflix show 'you'.

When five first meets reader she comes across nieve but sweet and he falls for her innocence and kindness towards him. Shes always looking out for him and supporting him and he cant help but wanna protect her. Hes so preoccupied with spending time with her, scaring off any looks from other men and taking advantage of her kindness that he doesnt relise that the waitress at the cafe they went to together last weekend who had written her number on the inside of the napkin she gave to five when giving him and you your coffee has mysteriously gone missing..

He wonders if your just too innocent to really understand what hes saying when he vaguely admits hes done terrible things and you respond with a flippant 'me too' with a smile, little does he know you understand completely.

so i had some researchers about those two from 'you' series and now I'm interested in it!! anon, thank you ~

Five couldn't take his eyes off you.

For someone who is so good at controlling his emotions, he seems to have forgotten how he should behave in such situations.

Something about your pretty figure made him truly have an interest in you, forget about his job, about the obligation to be the hero in this story and spend another sleepless nights trying to save everyone.

And he definitely doesn't need to keep staring at you like that. Come on Number Five, you've got a lot to do and you're a very busy man, just turn away and start doing your work— Oh, fuck, now you noticed.

Five's heart beats faster when he sees your gaze directed right at him and his first reaction was to quickly look away and pretend that he was looking at the clock or just zoning out, while you, by a lucky chance, were just in front of him.

'Just a coincidence' , he justifies himself.

He grumbles, muttering something under his breath, until he finally turns away, trying to fully concentrate on his business and try to ignore that cute picture of your face in his head, your pleasant voice when you ask him to help you with something so simple, light touches on his shoulder when...

The sound of clicking pen is so loud that it's probably already getting on the nerves of his colleagues nearby, but he didn't care what they thought, when all he could think now was you.

You stand so close next to your work colleague that your hands can barely touch their body. You look happy, and Five genuinely enjoys the fact that you can stay in a good mood in any situation. That's why he works so hard for you. One of his main points is to keep watching the people he love are safe.

But could you step back for a couple of meters, please? The second, more jealous side of him is louder in his head and telling him not just to watch, but these are just simple work conversations during a break, right?

Five believes you, he is ready to trust you completely, but the people around you are not reliable and after all those years of his long, eventful life, he knows that every potential person that you meet can actually harm you.

Therefore, as your hero, he is obliged to intervene and protect you, the love of his heart, like a beautiful and not quite young prince, from a big and terrible villain.

You hear a noise behind you and a bright short flash of blue appears for a moment, which makes you smile slightly, already knowing what will happen.

You're holding a cup of coffee and you make an confused, surprised face as you turn around to look at Five, then give him your usual bright smile.

The person with who you just had conversation seems to be just as confused, but now for real, when they see Number Five in front of them, still as gloomy as usual.

Five comes closer to you, his hand resting on your interlocutor's shoulder and squeezing suspiciously tight, with a forced smile on his face that made the other person swallow nervously.

“Sorry friend, I hope you don’t mind if I steal them for a while?” 5 says, smugly grinning.

“Actually, we are—” the person starts, before Five interrupts them.

“Great,” he answers casually, focusing his attention at you instead, smile drops immediately as soon as he turns away from them.

Five is not even trying to listen to what they wanted to say, he quickly grabs your hand and blinks away, not bothered by what others will thought about this scene. Old man had enough of sharing you with everyone else today, now it's his time to be with you.

You almost stumble after this unexpected act of jealousy from Number Five, and his hand holds yours tighter, preventing you from falling.

A soft sighs comes from you when you notice that man's arms were held protectively around your waist.

“Please, warn me when you try something like that next time,” you lean closer to Five, trying to calm him down.

“I will,” he rolls his eyes. “If only you will promise me not to be all day around those idiots.”

You laugh at his words, appreciating his overprotective behavior towards you and only nod at him, which causes a soft satisfied purr from Five.

“Okay, okay,” you try to reassure him and give him a soft kiss on the corner of his lips. “ The same goes for you.”

Five just closes his eyes, resting his forehead against yours, enjoying the time he can spend with you and only you alone. He didn't think twice before giving his answer, just quietly mutters : “Deal”.

⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

You love this old man so much, but sometimes you wonder if he does it on purpose?

Does he have to smile like that at every waitress in the cafe?

Should he call every woman he meets as 'dear?'

Does he have to stare at every woman named Delores? I thought you two go through this line a long time ago.

This might be just his politeness or the ghosts of his past, but it makes you clench your teeth in anger, every time you sit on your goddamn place trying to pick an order in this stupid shit hole.

You bite the inside of your cheek as you try to ignore the conversation around you, concentrating, or at least trying to focus your attention on the clock, counting seconds before your order arrives.

“How much longer do we have to wait?” you ask impatiently.

“Are you in a hurry, hun?” Five turns his gaze to you and smiles slightly.

You smile back at him and shake your head, resting your cheek on your hand as you look at him.

“I'm just so tired...” you say sweetly, sighing, to make your words more sounds like truth. “Can't we just take our order and go home instead?”

Five is silent for a moment, as if trying to see whether your words are true. But after a few seconds, he leans closer to you and tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“If you really tired then let's go home.” he gets up from his seat to come and pick up your order.

You just nod and silently follow his every action with your eyes, watching from afar. You wanted to find any reason to leave as soon as possible, trying to exclude any attempts by that annoying waitress who is trying to get close to your lover.

And it was so fucking difficult to control yourself from grabbing that terribly hot coffee from her hands and just splashing it all over her face when you notice those obvious attempts to flirt with your Number Five.

You blink once, then again, interrupting your disturbing thoughts. No, you shouldn't have to think like that, you convince yourself. What will Five think if he saw you like this?

Your slight smile slowly fades from your face and you look rather bored, tilting your head slightly, deciding not to disturb this sweet conversation between the two.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

You were glad to be able to spend a good night next to your lover. Every moment of peace and quiet with Five was very dear to you, especially if it meant that somehow you were able to put this poor guy to sleep.

His hands always holding tightly onto your body, as if afraid to let go and at one moment wake up without seeing you next to him. You were dozing, head pressed against Five's chest, listening to his rapid heartbeat. You was so close to fall asleep again until you felt his hand slowly rubbing circles on your back as if trying to calm his nerves.

Slowly lifting your head up, you look at him with half-open eyes, silently asking what made him so worried in the middle of the night. This was not new to you, it's easy to predict that he might have possible problems with his sleep, knowing how lonely and abandoned most of Five's life was.

“I didn't mean to wake you up,” he mumbles softly, trying to avoid talking to you. “Just go back to sleep, don't worry about me”.

You pout playfully at his words, wrapping your arms around his waist and closing your eyes, “Five,” you whisper. “You don’t have to hide everything from me. Please, tell me what's on your mind and it will get better, I promise”.

Five sighs tiredly and it makes you sure that he will try to open up to you tonight. You never forced it on him, expecting that eventually, someday, he would feel comfortable enough to share with you the things that catches his mind. Your attention was focused on what he might said while your eyes were still resting from a hard, long day.

“Sometimes I feel like I don't deserve you after all the shit I've done,” he curses, frowning slightly. “I'm not sure you even understand me.”

“Many people have done bad things in their entire lives, besides, you had no other chance, Five,” you suddenly say, looking perfectly calm. “And me too, actually. We should just move on from that”.

Five pauses for a moment, his eyes concentrated on your relaxed figure next to him, enjoying the warmth between your bodies. It seems like you didn't really think about what you were saying because of how sleepy you were, Five thinks, so he don't have any idea about the significance of your words, deciding that you, as always, were just trying to support him.

Did you feel bad for what you did? Maybe, after all, you were the same living person, you tend to feel at least a drop of compassion. But right now, you don't care. The only thing that matters right now is to be with the person you care about. It seems that tomorrow morning you should remind Number Five not to go to your favorite cafe tomorrow.

“Yeah, of course,” he says, totally not taking your words seriously as he pulls you closer towards himself, finally closing his eyes and trying to rest, ending this conversation. “ Now let's get some sleep, love”.

#yandere tua #tua x reader #yandere x reader #five hargreaves x reader #yandere five hargreeves #yandere five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves #umbrella academy x reader #yandere umbrella academy #tua imagine #yandere number five #number five x reader

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cricketnationrise · 3 months

Note

Congratulations on 500 followers, babe! It's awesome that you're doing another ficlet fest. Here's my prompt:

Time: 1:30 a.m.

Location: Hollywood

Character: Alicia Zimmermann

Song lyrics: "Another name goes up in lights; you wonder if you'll make it out alive" from "The Lucky One" by Taylor Swift

Rating: T

HI BABE <3 I love this prompt, and I hope you like where it led me! There's never enough Alicia content, so I was really excited for the excuse to write some. 💜🦗

read the rest of the ficlets here!

🏒🏒🏒🏒

1:30am, hollywood

Alone in the back of a taxi, finally hidden from the view of the cameras, Alicia lets her head fall back against the headrest with a heavy sigh.

It’s been a long time since award shows were fun, since after parties were anything other than an obligation pushed onto her shoulders by her agent. Tonight had been especially harrowing: enough meaningless small talk to make her want to tear her hair out, not enough food, and toast after drunken, incomprehensible toast. It was hard to believe that Alicia had ever liked the crush of people; that she had, at one point, craved this part of being an actress. More and more, her perfect idea of a late night features a warm body next to hers, a cup of chamomile, and a delightfully trashy romance novel—not backhanded compliments and uncomfortable shoes.

Above all, Alicia is tired.

Tired of the run around, tired of the hustle, tired of spineless directors and co-stars that didn’t bother to learn their lines. Tired of constantly getting her picture taken, tired of being hounded by the press, tired of being critiqued on everything from her outfit to her choice of project. Tired of the endless travel, tired of remote filming locations, tired of never being in the same time zone as her apartment for more than a week at a time. There just has to be a way for her to have more control over her career. Surely she’s paid her dues by now.

At least her taxi driver isn’t trying to make conversation, or ask for an autograph—either option was liable to send Alicia over the edge tonight. She frowns as they pass a billboard for a new movie, starring some girl she’s never heard of. Blown up to larger than life, it’s impossible to miss the excitement in the starlet’s eyes, the yearning for more. Alicia feels tears gathering in the corner of her eye and looks away hurriedly—when was the last time she had felt like that?

She still loves acting, is the thing. Still loves throwing herself into a character, really connecting with their desires and fears, breathing life into someone who would otherwise just be words on a page. Still loves becoming someone new. But everything else that comes along with being an actress makes her want to scream.

Finally at her hotel, Alicia pays the driver and makes it up to her room in a haze of exhaustion and general torpor. She changes into pajamas and brushes her teeth on autopilot. It's only as she’s reaching over to turn the bedside light off when she notices the red blinking light of the answering machine.

It’s probably her assistant. Maybe her agent. Both of them have been in constant contact on this press tour, keeping her in the loop on travel changes and adding more “quick appearances” to her schedule that end up being several hours and completely draining. But if she doesn’t check it, she’ll miss something important. With a defeated groan she checks the machine, tension leaching out of her when a man’s voice comes from the speakers instead of any of her all-female team’s strident tones.

Hi, euh, hello, Alicia? This is Bob Zimmermann, we met last week at that terrible premiere?

Alicia actually finds herself grinning as Bob’s Quebecois accent and stumbling words spill out into her hotel room, his genuinely hesitant and careful words wrapping around her like a blanket. She didn’t know him from Adam at the premiere party, but a shared eye-roll during the director’s meandering thank you speech prompted her to wander over once it was done. The warmth in his brown eyes was reason enough to keep talking to him after introducing herself.

The message rambles a bit about how awful the movie was (he’s not wrong, it positively reeked of studio interference) and a bit about how his hockey team did this week before he clears his throat. The change in tone has her listening with bated breath.

I know timing is going to be an issue for both of us, but I really enjoyed talking to you last week, and I’d love to take you to dinner and get to know you sometime— Sometime soon, eh?

He leaves the number of his hotel for the next two days and his pager number before saying goodbye. Still grinning, Alicia scribbles down both numbers and turns off the machine. She turns the light out and settles into bed with his voice echoing in her head and thinks.

A single, unlooked-for message, the possibility of a date with an interesting man, and Alicia feels lighter. And more determined than ever to make some career changes — she wants to love her job again, just as much as Bob loves hockey. And she’s been around long enough, has enough clout, that she really thinks she can change her job to suit her desires.

Resolved to sit down with her agent as soon as she’s in the same city again, she closes her eyes, replaying Bob's message in her mind as she drifts into sleep.

Bonne nuit, Alicia.

#cricket writes #the-lincyclopedia #ficlet fest 500 #check please #omgcp #pov alicia #bonus bad bob content #bc i love their love

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goldenqingxin · 4 months

Text

here's a little snippet of something im working on (yes i know i havent updated LOB in a month. leave me alone) ☁︎ jercy, au where they kinda remember each other from when they're at the same place, same time. inspired by e106 at 8:28. also, percy swears like a sailor because i said so. ☁︎

“Watch out!”

“Oh, shit–”

He’s on the floor and he can’t feel his jaw. His fingers are tingling in a very painful way. He swears up and down he hasn’t had his life flashing before his eyes, but like, he feels like he’s dying. It hurts like hell.

“You okay?”

The sight that greets him is nothing short of confusing– a tall, blond boy, around his age or maybe younger, with a purple shirt written SPQR on it. He stands in front of him, crouched just enough to shove his calloused hand in his face. (Why in the world is it rough like that? He looks hardly twelve but he has the fingers of a carpenter.)

“What’s up with the shirt? Are you LARPing?” he asks, not even cursing his lack of filter this time. He’s in a freaky casino with friends who just about forgot they were on a mission to stop World War III. Not that he remembers the details much anyway…

“What’s that?” The boy asks in return. “It’s just a camp shirt.”

Huh, almost like Camp Half-Blood’s. The leather cord on his neck rubs at the skin there. It’s bound to leave a red mark with how tight it is against his nape.

He takes the boy’s hand to get back up on his feet. The last thing he expected was that stupidly strong grip and the sliver of a smile on the boy’s face when Percy nearly fell over. His hand starts tingling again.

“Jason Grace,” the boy tells him cryptically.

“Percy Jackson,�� he answers, because obviously the guy told him his own name.

“You don’t sound like you’re from around here,” Jason says. He has this accent, one Percy can’t really place– something between animalistic and terribly Silicon Valley.

“And you sound like you’re definitely from L.A.”

He’s not stupid enough to waste his time here, talking to this very pretty guy (where did that come from?) in a very strange casino, with two of his friends gods-know where. Or at least, he thinks that for half a second before–

“What kind of camp makes kids wear something from Ancient Rome?”

His eyes drop to Jason’s hand on his hip.

“And what the fuck is with that sword?!”

Jason’s eyes widen, like he’s about to run away. It’s not a good look on him. Percy almost backtracks, or slams his hand against his mouth just to shut himself up for one damn second, but Jason beats him to the chase.

“You can see the gladius?”

“Why are you saying it like you actually speak latin?” is what Percy answers with, because oh yeah, I’ve got my own sword too, but it’s named Anaklusmos or I can speak Ancient Greek, how cool is that! isn’t the best thing to reply with in this context.

Jason looks– conflicted, at first. There’s some doubt in his stormy eyes, and they begin to resemble Annabeth’s more and more as they cloud over.

Oh shit, Annabeth–

“I left my friends back, oh shit, I gotta be out of here as soon as I can, it’s almost the solstice..,” he mutters, more to himself than to Jason, but it finally gets a reaction out of him that isn’t a (practically) blank stare. Not that he minds.

“Yeah, it’s tomorrow. What kind of deadline do you have in the middle of summer though? I thought classes were over.”

The way he says it is almost comically uncertain, like he has no idea how the school system works in America. Which is, honestly, fair. Percy doesn’t either.

Wait.

“Tomorrow? Nah, no way. We’re the 17th. Did you hit your head too?” He laughs, more out of obligation than anything– Jason’s eyes are downright scrutinising now, and in some other context when they’re both older it would’ve been nice but right now it just scares the shit out of him.

“No, I got here just five minutes ago. We’re the 20th.” It’s the way he says it so matter-of-factly that really gets on his nerves.

He grabs the first person that passes by them– some scrawny kid with black hair, and asks them the date once and for all.

His heart stops when the answer is “March 12th, 1932.”

He glares at Jason and sees him glaring back, and that’s all it takes before they’re running to the entrance to look outside the glass doors.

It’s pitch black, and Percy hasn’t been here for more than an hour. It was noon when he walked in.

“The Lotus Eaters,” he mumbles.

“Like, from the Odyssey?” Jason asks, his voice squeaky and scared. It’s the first actual emotion he sees on the guy’s face– literal fear.

“Fuck.”

Jason hums in agreement.

“Well, good luck to you, man,” Percy says before bolting away back to where he last left Annabeth and Grover. He prayed for them to still be there, and for there to still be time left if they make it out of here.

He doesn’t quite catch the small mumble of his name falling off Jason’s lips.

It sounds great when he says it.

#pjo #percy jackson #jason grace #jercy #peep the di angelo cameo #UNLIKE IN THE SHOW.#fanfic #wip #hes acting like a dumbass but he's 12 #its VERY hard to write the thoughts of an adhd 12yo #i tried!

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the-s1lly-corner · 5 months

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Tim Wright fluff headcanons

-tim Wright obsessed 🙀 anon

Tim fluff headcannons!

WAHOO! finally going to try to get back into the swing of writing now that im no longer as sick (still fighting off the tail end of my horrid allergies, but otherwise im feeling good! hella tired though) might be a little all over the place//shorter than usual given that i have hardly written all week so my funky flow is all.... raaah! TToTT

i was going to say hes an early bird and sometimes he makes you breakfast, but honestly i can also see him sleeping in.. until the later hours of the morning/bordering on noon... also he doesnt look like a breakfast person. probably smokes and drinks a coffee in the mornings on the rare occasion he wakes up early... though perhaps he wakes up early on purpose to make you something on occasion? shrugs

looks like he can make a mean pancake tbh, cant explain why maybe its the admins envy seeping through because they struggle with pancakes/making pretty pancakes but-

enjoys quieter evenings with you. actually enjoys those calmer days in general. likes staying at home when he doesnt have work or other obligations, usually sitting on the couch letting himself just. relax and exist

i think he would be protective of you, even if this takes place post... everything.. hes lost so much and so much shit has happened and hes not about to have you add to that list. makes sure to check in on you and ask what you were up to while you were out, probably even lightly scolds/fusses over you if you somehow got hurt (from a simple scrape to anything broken).. probably keeps you in bed

but also... i can see him not totally babying you.. stern, but not overbearing if that makes sense?

sometimes melts into your hands if you cup his face, might give you a look if you mess around with his sideburns... doesnt pull away, though

sometimes lets you borrow his shirts, will not take any bs though if you decide to not return his possessions when he asks for them back (difference between you missing him/liking the piece and you not having any real intention to return his belongings)

isnt too terribly tall or short (for characters that are played by real people i tend to base their heights off the actor, looks like tim is roughly 5'7 according to google) so sharing clothes is a common enough occurrence if you're in his height range + dont have to worry about his clothes being extremely huge on you/hang off of you unless you're considerably shorter

... i do think he would offer to buy you matching clothes in your size if you want to match with him, though

i dont see tim being much of a ring guy... but if you guys want to have a matching thing to represent whatever (engagement, marriage, general matching for whatever, ect ect ect really any reason) then bracelets may be your go to ! though i can also see tim wearing a ring around his neck (with a chain, you know?) if you insist on keeping things in that vein more traditional (also admin just loves rings on chains)

#marble hornets tim #marble hornets tim x reader #marble hornets tim x you #mh tim x you #mh tim x reader #tim sutton x reader #tim wright x you

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penny00dreadful · 6 months

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Spies AU - Part 8

Part 1 Part 9 AO3

27th October 2015

In all honesty, Steve had planned to try to go about his life as normal in the week after his conversation with Hopper.

He was going to finish up his own mountain of paperwork from the Fred affair at Robin’s desk with her, without spilling his personal secrets and quite possibly the secrets of the whole fucking company like he’d been on the verge of doing every time he looked at her, end his day as normal, go home, eat, veg on the couch and then go to bed.

Standard boring stuff.

He was going to continue to keep his mouth shut.

Keeping his mouth shut was literally his job.

He was a spy.

Keeping secrets was, like, the main thing he needed to be able to do.

He’d always been good at it.

From his parents dirty little secrets that would have been eaten up at the monthly Homeowners Association meetings, to his own sexuality.

And when it came to the job, Robin knew that there were some things he just couldn’t tell her otherwise people might die.

But the problem with that was in all of those previous circumstances, Steve had been a consummate professional. Even when he had to keep his mouth shut about the kids he was protecting, Robin knew very little and understood. She was good with that. She knew it was a job thing.

This was so clearly not a job thing anymore.

Not even because Steve found the guy so stupid fucking attractive it made him feel like he dropped IQ points whenever he saw him, his brain filled with fuzzy static of prettyprettypretty. But also because he fucking cared.

Steve cared so fucking much about Eddie and wasn’t that just a terribly dangerous game to be playing?

He wanted to know what side of the bed he slept on, he wanted to know what his favourite food was, he wanted to know how he watched movies, if he had to pay attention to every second or if he talked the whole way through. He wanted to know how he tied his shoes or if he stayed in his pyjamas for as long as possible every day or if he had to be dressed to feel awake or how many sugars he had in his coffee or if he ate dairy or had any allergies or what the stupidest thing he ever did as a kid was.

Steve wanted to know everything about him.

And Robin could fucking tell.

She was staring at him from across her desk like she wanted to drill into his brain with her eyes and dig through the mess in there to figure out what was going on.

Because Steve would have told her immediately if it wasn’t job related, they both knew that.

So the fact that he hadn’t and the fact that he so clearly wanted to but still wouldn’t meant it was something got to do with work and Steve just hoped she thought he was hooking up with a coworker or something.

He couldn’t ignore her as he stared down at the papers in front of him, shuffling them around and flipping through them back to front and front to back, trying to distract himself, trying to avoid her eye and just hoping, somewhat hysterically, that if he didn’t pay attention to it then the problem would go away.

But of course it wouldn’t be that simple and he was fit to fucking explode.

He had to talk to her.

Not because he felt obligated to, not because a soulmate bond was an immediate right to all of his deepest darkest secrets, which it wasn't, but because he needed to.

He needed a sounding board, someone to bounce his brain off of. Someone to help him work through his messy thoughts and sort them all out. Someone to tell him he was insane and he needed to stop thinking like this.

Or alternatively someone to tell him to go for it, go get his man and sweep him away from everything dangerous, skipping off into the sunset.

He made it a whole week, stewing at Robin’s desk before he cracked, practically feeling the fissure running down his body, cutting him in half.

“I need to talk to you.” He muttered, head in his hands, hair clenched between his fingers and feeling like he was flayed open, bearing the softest most delicate parts of him in those words alone. Just waiting for her to wrap him back up warm and safe or take a vicious bite, though he knew in his heart of hearts which one she’d do.

He could hear Robin shift where she was sitting, his own gaze still trained on the desk below him while Robin was probably staring a hole through his skull again.

“Okay.” She said eventually, ignoring how Steve’s shoulders slumped in relief. “The local?”

“Yeah.” Steve’s whole body unwound, the tension practically bouncing from his back at the thought of finally, finally being able to get this all off his chest.

He had expected Robin to give him a little more flack for it, for giving in and clearly going against protocol, but she was his guy.

And he knew, he knew that she would always be on his side, no matter what.

“Do you want to go now?” She asked, already cramming her paperwork back into her drawers.

Steve started to follow suit, sorting his own papers out into neat little stacks. “But don’t you need to finish-”

“I can finish it tomorrow, this is more important.”

Steve’s heart swelled, glowing bright and warm. Robin took her job very seriously, but she was also serious about him and Steve loved her for it.

Maybe Steve hadn’t completely thought this one through. He was boxed into a booth with Robin who was acting surprisingly nonchalant about the whole thing, but that could be because she wasn’t quite aware of the gravity of the situation yet.

But he was a spy, right? Part of the job description was to get out of tight spots, literally and figuratively. So if he needed to vault the table and race out of the bar doors before Robin was able to catch him by the scruff of the neck, then he could do it easily, right?

However the way she was looking at him now with slightly raised eyebrows, just daring him to try while she drained her glass told him she would be expecting it.

And she always played dirty.

She went for the hair.

“Okay.” Robin snatched his glass out of his grip, the one he’d been swirling between his hands, trying to find the answers to all his questions amongst the amber and floating foam. She downed the dregs of his drink with a grimace. “I need you to talk to- ugh. I don’t know how you drink that shit. I need you to talk to me, stop talking to the booze.”

Steve shrugged.

He hadn’t even fought her on the robbery of his drink, just stared passively as she did it.

“It’s nice.”

She raised her eyebrows at him. “Talking to the booze?”

“No, the beer.” He slumped lower in his seat. “It’s nice.”

“No, it’s not.”

It was a well worn argument. One they had nearly every time they came here together and Steve knew he was acting strangely. He was usually a lot more defensive of his tastes.

“Evie. C’mon, talk to me.” She threw her arm over the back of their booth and turned towards him, knocking their knees together and bringing them closer. “That’s why we came here, isn't it? Something’s bothering you and you’re ruminating and you’re going to start catastrophizing soon if you don’t let your conscience in.”

Steve huffed, smiling. “You’re my conscience in this scenario, Jiminy?”

“Yes, I am.”

“You’re awful at it.”

“Eh.” She shrugged. “I do okay for myself. You’re still alive aren’t you?”

“Somehow. Despite the drinks you mixed me during Dustin’s 21st.”

“Hey,” she gave him a light punch to the shoulder, “I was trying my best!”

“I didn’t even make it to my bedroom that night. I slept in my bathtub.”

“Steven.” Robin rapped him lightly on the shoulder again. “Don’t disparage that tub. It’s the comfiest tub I have ever slept in.”

“When did you sleep in it?” He sputtered.

“The night of my 25th.”

Steve blinked at her, confused. “But you were in bed with me that night?”

“I started out in bed with you, yeah. Then everything got really spinny. Then many things happened in your bathroom that I’d rather not talk about but I cleaned up after myself so it’s fine-”

“Is it?!” It had been over a year but now Steve was wondering if he needed to nuke everything all over again.

“-yes, it’s fine. Then I fell asleep in the bathtub and I woke up at some point in the morning and wandered back into bed.” Robin shook her head. “But we’re not talking about my 25th and we’re not talking about the horrors your bathroom has seen. We’re talking about your spiralling brain.”

Steve looked down, the smile slipping off his face.

With a deep breath he took her hand in his, sitting on top of the table and began to twist her rings around her fingers, like he could untwist his own thoughts with them.

Robin let him, waiting him out patiently while he tried to think of what to say.

“Do you think people can be good but be stuck doing less than good things because of their circumstances?”

“Yes.” She answered without hesitation, barely having to think about it, it seemed.

“I don’t… I don’t mean like stealing food from the grocery store so they can eat or- fucking forging prescriptions so they can get the meds they need or whatever.”

“I know. You wouldn’t be spiralling if it was as simple as that. You’d be helping.”

Steve couldn’t stop the tick up at the corner of his mouth. She had such faith in him.

“Like that guy in the alleyway?”

“The guy..?” She blinked at him, thinking. “Oh, the hot drug dealer?”

He bit his lip. “Yeah.”

“Then, yeah. Like him.” Robin’s words were soft but her eyes were bright, like everything was becoming so much clearer to her now. “Whatever happened with him, by the way?”

Steve tore his eyes away, looking back down at their hands.

“What if this good person has done some really fucked up shit?”

She scoffed. “More fucked up than what we do?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know if it’s in the ‘more fucked up’ category in my head because we’re the good guys and he’s-”

Steve swallowed and Robin gave his fingers a gentle squeeze, reassuring him that she was there.

“So, he wasn’t just a hot drug dealer?” She prodded, gently.

She truly was his conscience, his soulmate, the other half of his brain.

“No.” Steve shook his head and squeezed her fingers back. “He’s not.”

“Then who is he?”

Steve looked up at her again, darting his eyes in between hers, searching for any reason he couldn’t tell her. Anything. The slightest bit of hesitation or wariness or anything beyond soft curiosity. But there was nothing. She was just filled with concern for him and wanted him to get whatever this was off his chest. She just wanted to help.

If he could trust anyone with this information, it would be her.

“He's my informant. He’s Kas.”

Robin swallowed but otherwise didn’t move. She continued to stare at him, her face impassive and Steve could almost see the buffering symbol circling on her forehead.

She sucked her bottom lip into her mouth and began to chew on it, still thinking, still processing.

Steve held tight to her hand throughout, almost unwilling to give her the option to pull back, even if he knew she wouldn’t.

“Kas is real? He’s not just a myth to scare baby spies and Creel’s enemies?” She asked, her voice even and calm in a way Steve knew she was still working things out in her head.

“Yeah, he’s real.”

“And you think he’s a good person? Kas? The Bloodyhanded? That Kas?”

“I do.”

She looked at him, watching every move incredibly closely and Steve felt like he was going through the most important quiz of his life.

“Why?”

Her question wasn’t accusatory and Steve knew that. It was just fact finding.

“I… I don’t know, honestly. He’s never hurt me. Even when I was quite literally at his mercy in what I’m pretty sure was his torture room, he never hurt me. And then again in Zagreb, with the goons.” He looked up at her. “I didn’t kill them, Rob. I didn’t take them out. He did. I was tied to a chair with a dislocated shoulder. I was finished. And he- I don’t know, I think he took issue with how they were treating me.”

“How they were kicking the shit out of you?”

Steve smiled a little, his mind repeating mine.

“Yeah, I guess. Maybe that was all it was, things weren’t being done his way but… he killed them. For me. I know it was for me. Because they hurt me.”

“Do you think he might have been doing it because he just thinks you’re pretty?”

“How do you know he thinks I’m pretty?”

“Everyone thinks you’re pretty.”

Steve tipped over until his forehead was resting on her shoulder, rolling his head to look up at her. “You’re right, it’s a curse.”

Robin smiled down at him, a gentle comforting thing.

Steve shrugged, an inexplicable shiver crawling down his spine. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and he straightened up, glancing around, expecting to feel eyes on him, but there was no one paying them any attention.

Most were too focused on the game playing out on the big screens around the bar and the streets outside the windows were empty.

He turned back to face Robin. “I don’t think it’s just because I’m pretty. I mean I haven’t seen him out saving orphans from fires or pulling kittens from trees but… I don’t know. He just doesn’t feel bad.”

They stared at each other in silence, Steve slumped and fidgeting through his nerves and Robin so still and all-seeing it was like she was some statue on top of a church.

“Okay.” She said simply.

“Okay?”

“Yeah, okay. If you don’t think he feels bad then I think he’s probably not bad.”

“Oh. That was… easy?”

“Evie.” Robin brushed her thumb over his knuckles. “You’re the best judge of character I know. I trust you.”

“Risky thing to do.”

“I don’t think so.” She smiled at him again, bringing his hand up to place a kiss along his knuckles. “What brought this conversation on?”

“I don’t know. I-” he shrugged. “I’m worried about him.”

“Why?”

“I think I might have gotten him in trouble with his higher ups. Or his higher up, singular.”

She grimaced. “Creel?”

“Yeah, he was the guy who I stopped from killing Fred-”

“You stopped Kas?” She nearly shrieked, but remembered to keep her volume low at the last second.

“Yeah, I know. But I think on some level he might have let me. Like the guy is much faster than me, not as strong but very quick and I was able to disarm him and get him up against a wall? It just doesn’t add up. And I think that has put him in danger. I don’t know, just something he said.”

“What was it?”

“He-” Steve sighed, curling himself up as much as he could, leaning against Robin who put an arm around him. “He asked if I would be worried. And that was kind of all he asked, he didn’t elaborate but it sounded like he was asking would I be worried if he went missing or got hurt or something.” He pressed his forehead into her neck. “I haven’t heard from him since.”

“Is that unusual? It's only been a few days.”

“No, but it feels different this time.”

Robin nodded. “And no one else knows? Hopper or-”

“Hopper knows.” He muttered, tensing and feeling her whip her head around to try to look at him, her hair catching him in the eye.

“Ow.”

“Hopper- Evie, do you really think that’s a good idea? He could… He could strap him down for interrogation or hide him away at the other end of the world under lock and key so he doesn’t-”

“He won’t.” Steve said, his voice firm and sure.

“You can’t know that-”

“I do know that. Because I won’t let him.”

Robin’s arm stopped its up and down soothing motion over his bicep.

“You really mean that, don’t you?”

“Yeah. I do.”

She cursed under her breath, flicking him in the forehead. “Fuck, okay. I guess we’re doing this then. This fucking guy better be worth it.”

“You don’t have to-”

“Yes I do, Steven.” She sighed, squeezing him tighter. “You think if this all goes tits up and you have to go against The Agency, I’m gonna let you flounder around on your own? You’d be fucking lost without me.”

“I would. I’d be so lost, Bobbin.”

“So what did this Kas guy say when you asked him to run away with you.”

It was Steve’s turn to freeze now.

“Uh…”

“Oh my god, Evie. You haven’t even asked him?”

“I did! Kind of… I-”

“He said no?”

“Not in so many words. He refused… but he said ‘I can’t’.”

“That’s not straw clutchy at all.”

“Let me clutch my straws in peace.”

“Fine, fine. Are you gonna continue to do that here or at home? You need your space to think?”

“Yeah.” He sighed. “Yeah. I need to figure out how to… I don’t know. Convince him to exit the employment of one of the most dangerous men in the world.”

“Want me to come with you? We could continue to drink about it?”

Steve gave her a little chuckle. “No, not that’s okay. I need to brainstorm some crazy scenarios and have you talk me down from them and I can’t do that if you’re there when I’m coming up with them.”

“Ah.” She nodded. “The old Scoops Ahoy way.”

“Yeah.”

Robin pushed herself to her feet and continued to hold onto his hand as he sidled out of the booth and they made their way out of the bar.

Just before they parted ways, Robin pulled him into a tight hug, squeezing him as fiercely as she could.

“You know I’m with you no matter what, right? No matter what happens. If you cause an international incident… again or-”

“Almost caused an international incident.”

“Sure, sure whatever.” She waved her hand dismissively in front of her. “But like… no matter what I’m in your corner.”

“I know, Rob. I know. I’m with you too.”

He pressed a quick kiss against her forehead and when they’d finally said their goodbyes, he headed home, his mind swirling with thoughts on what the fuck he was going to do about the whole situation.

How he would even find Eddie again to be able to convince him to leave.

Could he? Could he convince him?

What was even holding him down to Creel’s service at this stage?

The whole way back to his apartment, and into the elevator, he was thinking about it, staring off into space.

It was only when something started to niggle in the back of his mind to look around, he saw it.

Hidden in the groove on the button to his floor was a smudge of blood.

It was so small, barely visible, practically invisible to everyone else but not to him.

Okay.

Hopefully someone had just gotten a nosebleed or something and the cleaners hadn’t come through yet.

What were the chances he would be so lucky?

Pretty fucking low.

He had a weapon or two concealed on his person. He almost always did unless he was sleeping or showering, so he dropped into a crouch, pulling one of his smaller guns from his ankle holster.

Most of the field agents didn’t carry one. The men didn’t anyway. Because apparently having a small gun was an affront to their masculinity.

Like a bullet ripping through the air gave a fuck about how dainty the gun it came from was.

When he straightened back up, he pulled his small dagger from his belt, mostly handle with a little triangle of sharpened metal at the end but it would take less than that to sever a carotid.

Bracing his dagger hand under his gun, he kept the barrel pointed towards the ground as the elevator doors opened upon a blissfully empty hallway.

There were no more hints that anything was wrong.

No more blood, no bullet holes in the walls, no mud streaked footprints on the carpet, nothing out of place.

That didn’t stop his heartbeat slowly climbing as he approached his apartment door.

He’d have loved to hover for a few moments, listening in to see if he could hear anything but of course the thing was soundproofed.

Well, there was nothing left for it, he had to go in.

He’d been stuck in a safehouse for long enough before, he’d be damned if he put himself back in one willingly.

Plus, it’s not like he knew someone was in his apartment.

It could be nothing after all.

Yeah, right.

All doubts left his mind when he lowered his hand to unlock his front door, palming his dagger and tightening his fingers around his door handle to activate the unlocking mechanism through his biometric security.

But only one lock clicked open.

Just one sound.

Not the multiple quiet whirrs and clicks that should be audible.

Which meant someone else had opened his door while he was out.

So someone was inside.

Or had been inside and since left.

“Fuck.” Steve cursed to himself under his breath.

He fucking hated sweeping his apartment for bombs or poisons spread onto surfaces.

It was so fucking tedious.

He just wanted to collapse on his couch and continue to drink his problems away, at least for a little bit.

Well no chance of that now.

Steve let go of the handle, allowing the door to swing open and gripping his dagger again under his gun, wrists locked across one another as he pointed the barrel around every corner before stepping through.

Immediately his eyes zoned in on the difference.

His lovingly reupholstered couch had an unmoving and silent shadow of a body spilled over the cushions.

Almost as if they could be asleep.

He couldn’t tell who it was in the darkness.

Panic gripped him, crawling up his throat as he went through the mental checklist of who it could be, who could have been left there as a message to him, a warning to stop pursuing.

Could it be any of the kids, any of his fellow agents?

Robin?

But he’d only just seen her, they wouldn’t have had time, right?

Plus, they used code names. Anyone who had overheard them talking would only know her as Birdie and outside of work they just looked like any two friends?

How could they know she was his guy in the chair?

They couldn't, right?

He’d only just seen her, it couldn’t be her?

Steve was just about to take another step forward to get a better look when the shadow moved.

A pained, wheezing voice called out to him.

“Hello, sweetheart.”

Part 1 Part 9 AO3

Schedule Update Post

Divider by firefly-graphics

@geekymagicalpotato @estrellami-1

Big thanks as always to @hbyrde36 for the magnificent beta work and to the STWG for their motivation

#steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve x eddie #eddie x steve #penny00dreadful #steddie fanfic #steddie fic #fanfic #pennys anniversary event #spies au #spy steve harrington #robin buckley #guy in the chair robin #cat and mouse spy fic #assassin eddie

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yeor-yeona · 1 month

Text

the whiskey teaser

pairing: stray kids han jisung x gn!reader

warnings: alcohol use, implied drinking and driving (nothing bad happens), 3rd person, reader is bi/pan, spelling/grammar issues

word count: 1463

a/n: this is just a teaser for now but it's been sitting unfinished in my google docs for months lol if anyone likes it i might complete it!! the plan was around 15-20k so its gonna be a bit of a slow burn,,, not much is happening rn but feel free to comment any suggestions pls be constructive tho :)

Looking around the establishment for what felt like the hundredth time in the last hour, you swirled around your glass, relishing in the clinks made when the hard rock of ice met the delicate glass containing it. You’d come here looking for a distraction, anything to pique your interest for even an instant; to bring anything else to the forefront of your mind just long enough to ease the load of your thoughts. And to no avail. A few people had come up to you, trying to spark a conversation, with and without ulterior motives. You’d indulge them, albeit speaking only a few words at a time before they had lost your interest and you let them know that.

The first was a man, slicked-back hair and a get-up far too fancy for the environment. He called you beautiful, offered you a drink, and you obliged him. Asking for the most expensive thing sold there just to see his expression. Before you could even get a sip in he was on a tirade about his oh-so-important job as a CEO or CFO or some other acronym with a ‘C’. As hard as you tried to engage in the conversation, he never gave you the opportunity, ending every story he had about his “terrible employees” with a ‘right?’ or ‘you know?’ and then continuing on without leaving you a second to even nod in agreement.

It got old fast and soon you were right back in your head, thoughts moving a mile a minute toward the one thing you wanted to avoid thinking about. Then he asked, “Are you even listening to me?” You responded with a blunt, “No.” Earning a scowl from him as you now became the object of his scornful speech. He called you a “gold-digging bitch” and a slew of other things that people tend to find offensive. But you didn’t care, why should you? He was a stuck-up asshole who doesn’t know how to have a decent conversation. The only thing you’d gained from the exchange was an overpriced drink, which you continued to drink as he kept yelling, bringing unwanted attention to the two of you. By then you couldn’t even make out what names he was calling you as his voice faded into the background. You couldn’t tell how long it had continued either until he finally stormed off, ushered away by the staff, still muttering under his breath.

You were a little glad for being a regular at this point, getting kicked out of the bar would have been a terrible way to end your night.

Maybe 10, 15 minutes passed before another person came up, trying to get your attention. This time a woman, in a lacey black dress and racing jacket. The way she looked at you with those bright blue contacts, made you somewhat uncomfortable, but she was decent enough conversation. She mentioned she was from out of town, visiting for a funeral, here looking to have a little fun before heading back home. You almost would have taken her up on her many offers to do so, if not for the way she spoke to the bartender after he supposedly made her drink wrong. When she turned back to you, you made some excuse about being busy later that night, the first thing that popped into your head and she got the memo. Leaving you without another word.

The others that came and went weren’t as interesting, quickly repulsing you in one way or another, but you’d determined yourself to stay a little while longer. In hopes that you’d find someone, something to do. Though it was in vain.

You downed the rest of your drink, delighting in the warmth it brought to your core. You gathered your things, giving a final nod to the bartender before leaving the building.

Seeing the patter of raindrops hitting the glass doors, you pulled an umbrella out of your bag, opening it as you stepped out. It was a short stroll to your car, only two or three blocks away, but long enough to shake away any last remnants of alcohol that may be clouding your judgment.

You walked slowly, basking in the sights around you, people running into buildings, failing to prevent themselves from getting soaked, cars zooming by, splashing puddles that had been created in potholes, storm drains sucking in as much water as they could, making tiny whirlpools. You remembered loving these sights as a child, loving the feeling of jumping around in said puddles, not loving the wet socks you ended up with after. But you kept walking, brushing off the nostalgic feelings growing in your heart, you didn’t deserve to enjoy it.

You reached a crosswalk, the light was red and the speed of the vehicles before you, even in this weather, was enough to discourage you from continuing anyway. As you waited, you heard a sound, it was a sniffle, you weren’t sure if you were imagining it or if it was you yourself.

You turned your head towards the origin and there stood, well sat really, a man. His head was rested in his arms, held up by his knees. His wavy brown hair glistened under the street lamps, clinging to the sides of his face. He was decidedly underdressed for the weather, with an oversized white t-shirt, that too clung to him from the rain, and a pair of light-wash ripped jeans.

For some reason, you couldn’t turn away from the sight. You wanted to know why. Why he was sitting out here in the rain, weeping so hard his body shook. So hard it shook even the furthest reaches of your heart.

From the corner of your eye, you could see the light change and the cars come to a stop. You should have minded your business, you should have walked across the street and went home to wallow in misery, you should have, but you didn’t. Instead, taking cautious steps toward the man, until you were right before him. You stuck out your arm, shielding him from the downpour with your umbrella, unflinching as the cool droplets now soaked into your attire.

You stood there for a few seconds, not uttering a word. You hadn’t even known why you’d done this to begin with. No, you knew.

You couldn’t convince yourself you did it out of the kindness of your heart. This was selfish, an indulgent way to prove you weren’t like the people you’d seen earlier today, like the people who hurt him. It wasn't entirely true, but excuses exist for a reason.

He looked up at you, pulling you out of your thoughts. Even through his questioning stare, his eyes were bloodshot. He must have been here for a while.

You held the umbrella closer to him, a wordless offering. Still obviously confused, he took it. And you took your opportunity to swiftly leave, walking with more purpose now as you crossed the busy street seconds before the light switched back to green and the engines of the cars, now behind you, roared to life.

You could feel eyes on you as you walked steadily up the street, probably his, but you didn't turn around to check.

Finally reaching your car, you pulled your keys out of your bag, unlocking the door with a beep. You got in quickly, putting the key in the ignition and turning the heat to max. Maybe giving your umbrella to a stranger in the middle of what was basically a monsoon, wasn't the best idea. You sat there warming up for a few minutes before clicking on your seatbelt and taking off.

The ride back home was calm, rather than turning on music to drown out your thoughts like you normally would, you embraced the sound of raindrops hitting against the windshield and the hum of the engine. The brake lights before you reflecting off the ground creating a sea of red. The distraction usually bothered you, but now, all you could do was revel in its beauty.

Even when someone cut you off, you weren't all that angry. Rather than honking or muttering curses under your breath, you simply made space for them and went on as if it never happened.

Would it be overdramatic to describe this feeling as euphoric? You were soaked down to your underwear, fans blowing at max speed, making your eyes water so that you had to blink them back, lights reflecting off the wet surfaces almost blinding you. But you weren't mad at it.

It felt easier to embrace the negative knowing that even though your day failed, you may have made someone else's a little better. “Should I start doing stuff like this more often?” you whispered to yourself.

home ✿ masterlist

#han x reader #han jisung x reader #han x you #han x y/n #han jisung x you #han jisung x y/n #skz han #skz han jisung #skz x reader #skz imagines #han fanfic #han jisung #han jisung fanfic

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youwouldntlietopapa · 4 months

Text

The Words That Were Never Spoken: Chapter One

His warm leather glove slides from your neck up into your hair, pulling you closer so he can claim your mouth. Deeply, passionately, a parched man who’s discovered an oasis. Hints of coffee still on his lips and the faint smell of tobacco lingering on his clothes. His other hand pressing into your lower back as if you ever needed to be encouraged to press yourself against him. As if it’s not exactly where you’ve wanted to be for what feels like a lifetime. Nose brushing against yours and his mismatched eyes staring into your soul, so close that his lips brush against yours when he whispers. “Sorella…”

“Sorella?” Copia says a little louder and you jump.

Shit. “Sorry! Sorry. Just… got a bit lost in this text.” You wave at the ancient tome in front of you. There is extremely little to get lost in considering the text is about as exciting as watching paint dry.

The Cardinal smirks and there’s that mischievous glint in his eye. “That would be a very impressive feat, Sorella, with your eyes closed.”

What might have been an endearing pink flush from being caught daydreaming immediately becomes a deep red that rushes up from the collar of your habit up into your hair. But he only laughs and brushes off your apology. His hand gently pats yours in a way you’re sure you won’t be thinking too hard about for the rest of the evening.

“It is late. Later than I should be keeping you. I already ask too much, trapping you in this dusty basement all afternoon.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I offered to come help. It’s hardly a terrible chore to get a quiet afternoon with my friend.” Without thinking, your hand wraps around his, giving it a light squeeze not really letting go until your brain catches up with what you’re doing.

He makes that face, the one that breaks your heart every time. Like it’s something special or undeserved. That you’d be there because you want to be, not simply because you’re obligated. “Still, I keep you too long.” Copia smiles a little shyly. “It is late and I won’t keep you all hours. You need rest.”

“So do you.”

“I will, I will… in a while.” He pulls another heavy book toward himself you can already guess will have him stuck at that table until sunrise. “My word, cara.”

“Of all the sins, my dear Cardinal, lying might be the one you’re worst at.” You tease, standing up and starting to tidy things up for the night. “If I leave you here alone, you’re either going to fall asleep at this table or you’re going to pretend that five shots of espresso is a replacement for sleep. Neither will be good for you. Come on. Up. We’ll come back to this tomorrow.”

“But-”

“No buts! You need actual sleep! You deserve to rest, Cope. Whether you’ll admit it or not.” You walk around the table to his side and push the heavy book away from him. It takes every ounce of willpower not to cup his cheek with him looking up at you like that, so you settle for taking his hand once more. “You may not know this about me, but I’m actually quite protective of my friends. It’s a weird quirk I have, wanting them to be healthy, happy, and cared for.”

“Sorella…” He pouts, giving a very weak defence.

“Fine. If you’re staying, I’m staying.” You say firmly, letting go of his hand and marching back to your seat defiantly. “Either it’s acceptable to stay up all night, working yourself to death, or sleep is important and you need it as much as anyone.”

“You are being ridiculous.” Copia huffs, but you know the look he gets when he’s actually angry and that isn’t it.

“Only as ridiculous as you.” You smirk, sliding your foot under the table to nudge the toe of his shoe. “So? Do I put on another pot of coffee or are you going to finally admit that I’m the sensible one.”

He laughs and shakes his head. “Sensible might be a stretch. Stubborn, more like. But I concede. You win. We work more tomorrow, si? You will join me again?”

“There’s nowhere I’d rather be.”

Copia finally gets up with a groan, rubbing his backside while you definitely don’t watch too closely or think about how much you’d like to offer to take over for him. “These chairs will be the death of me before the need for sleep.”

“I promise to burn them all to avenge you.” Your arm slips through his, leading him back through the stacks and toward the stairs.

“I can always count on you, cara mia.”

Together you walk through the quiet Abbey halls. Everything feels different at night. More private and smaller. During the day it’s hard to find time to yourself, always Siblings and Ghouls here and there. But in the dim light and the silence, it’s just the two of you. Right up until the hall that leads to the Clergy wing, headed away from where your own quarters are with the rest of the Siblings. Not so different from any other hall in the Abbey, but just then, it seems to you, to be the ugliest, most loathsome hallway you’ve ever seen. Every step closer to it is reluctant and stopping next to it feels like leaning over the cliff’s edge, staring down into the pit.

But Copia seems blissfully unaware. Smiling softly and trading your arm in his for taking your hand. “Sleep. I promise.” He reassures, as if that were the only thing on your mind. “Breakfast tomorrow?”

“Absolutely. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

His lips brush the back of your hand, moustache tickling just enough to get a smile. “I will see you then, Sorella.”

“Until tomorrow.” You turn and start toward your quarters, calling back over your shoulder before you lose your nerve. “Ti voglio bene.”

……………...

Copia stands in stunned silence as you disappear down the corridor, hand still hovering in the air, right where it had been when your fingers slipped free of his. Watching you leave is always a challenge, but this feels like some new level of hell. Or heaven. He can’t decide. Some realm of pain and pleasure in equal measure that makes him want to chase after you and pour out his heart and soul, while at the same time making him even more sure you have no idea what you do to him. And all he can settle on is to stand there, motionless, watching you go until you vanish from sight.

“Ti amo…” He whispers in the silence of the hall, cursing himself for a coward and dropping his hand to his side.

His quarters, when he finally manages to get his feet to cooperate enough to get back to them, seem especially dark and empty. Like a piece is missing. The piece he can still feel pressed against his side, holding his arm, making sure he takes care of himself and noticing all the little things most people overlook. He sighs deeply and shakes his head. Foolishness. Taking something good and comfortable and safe, and trying to make it something it’s not. Risking everything for his own selfishness.

And yet…

Copia’s practised fingers struggle with the buttons of his cassock, too distracted, lost in his thoughts. Finally managing to free himself. Trying to ignore the rush of shame as he brings the fabric to his nose, inhaling deeply to catch the faint smell of your perfume still lingering there. He strips off the rest much faster as if making up for the time spent shaming himself will erase it all together. But, in the end, it just leaves him ashamed and naked.

Not a first time for that either, the spiteful voice in his head reminds him.

He snatches a make-up wipe and roughly cleans off the paint around his eyes. Well aware that the job he’s done will have him looking like Robert Smith in the morning, he simply can’t bring himself to care. Of all the hundreds of thoughts racing through his mind, not a single one is a concern over that. Copia, as if to demonstrate that very fact, flops down onto his bed and groans into his pillow.

He’d missed you at breakfast or, more accurately, he’d missed breakfast. An early morning meeting meant that he’d made do with a danish from the tray provided and a paper cup of whatever they were trying to pass off as coffee from the same urn they’d been using since the dawn of time. But, waiting on his desk, when the meeting was finally over, was an insulated travel mug still full of hot coffee just the way he liked it. He didn’t need a note to know who’d left it. No one else would have thought to do it or remembered his schedule at all.

Copia flops onto his back, staring up at the ceiling, wondering how in all the levels of hell he’s supposed to get to sleep. Alone. In his empty rooms. Wishing for things he should put out of his mind.

When he’d seen you, finally, and you’d smiled that easy, unguarded smile. Slipping your arm through his and teasing lightly. Agreeing without hesitation to join him in the basement archives, his personal work dungeon. Smelling like sunlight and flowers from the garden. His need to have you there conflicting with the crime of dragging you into the dark while the afternoon sun made a halo of fire and gold of your hair.

He can still feel your arm tucked into his, your hand softly squeezing his fingers, the familiar weight of you leaning against him just so when you walk by his side. Imagining it here, in his bed. The familiar weight of you pressed against his side, your arm draped around him, your hand softly squeezing… caressing… stroking. He closes his eyes and huffs, giving in and letting his hand drift along with his thoughts. Fingers tangled in your hair and the taste of your lips.

Each time you’d licked the tip of your finger, concentration unbroken from the dusty old scrolls and manuscripts, his heart had skipped a beat. His own concentration and resolve were far weaker than your own. Each time your foot brushed so casually against his, or your fingers rested on his arm to get his attention, or your voice was kept low in the stillness of the archives like you’d worried about anyone overhearing what was just for him, he found himself lost entirely.

He breathes out your name, not daring to voice his desires any more than that. Your words echoing in his head. “Ti voglio bene.” You must have been learning in secret, beyond the little bit you’d learned from him. Who else was there to learn for? And that phrase specifically… Maybe it was nothing. For a friend. A close friend. But maybe it was more. Maybe it was everything. “Ti voglio bene.” He can hear your voice so clearly, moaning at the thought of it joined with the touch of your hand. At the thought of it mingled with your scent and your warm skin pressed against his. The taste of you on his tongue. “Ti voglio bene… Ti amo… Copia.” His whole body shudders with a want and a need, an ache at his core.

The walk back up had been torture. The struggle to keep a calm smile on his face when he wanted to scream. Every step closer to that damned hallway where he’d have to let you go. Trying to focus on every little thing except that. All the details he wants, needs to remember. Closing his eyes and letting you guide him, even for a moment, just to focus entirely on the warmth of your hand, radiating through the sleeve of his cassock. Unable to simply let go, shifting his arm and moving his grip down to your hand. “Don’t go.” It had been on his lips. “Don’t leave.” He would beg if he had to. Beg and plead. “Stay with me. Stay tonight. Stay forever. Please.” Anything but that practised, placid smile and the same timid bullshit as the last time and the time before that and the time before. But his own voice betrayed him and the only thing left was to place a kiss on your hand. Play the gentleman again and smile like it wasn’t killing him.

His hand isn’t your hand, but the vision of you there, looking down at him in that way that leaves him stumbling over his words and struggling to form a thought. Like he’s worth something. More than something. That he’s worth the time and the energy. That you want to be there, with him. And maybe, just for a moment, he can pretend that you want to be with him. It’s enough. For a moment. Grabbing a pillow to muffle his cry as he spills his need and shame over his chest and stomach.

“Ti voglio bene.” Echoing in his head.

“Ti amo.” He whispers in the silence of his room, closing his eyes against the truth and dropping his hand to his side.

#ghost fanfic #copia x reader #MDNI

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puppyspiral · 1 year

Text

present

zhongli x gn!reader smut

summary: it's zhongli's birthday! you didn't have a present prepared, though, so you improvise

warnings: oral m!receiving, not beta'd, ooc once again i cant write genshin characters

a/n: this was fun to write i feel motivated for once !! also i left the ending kinda ambiguous lmk if u want me to make a second part!

word count: 814

“It’s your birthday?” You asked excitedly, shooting up and leaning over the table with a grin.

Zhongli cleared his throat, averting his eyes. “Ah, yes. I don’t like to make a big deal out of these things.”

You scoffed, “‘These things.’ Your birthday is supposed to be a day all about you!”

He pursed his lips, “Well, no matter. Spending attention on myself is rather pointless, don’t you think?”

You laughed before you realized that he was being serious. “Oh, come on. I bet you’re just not all that happy about being old.”

“Age is a fickle thing,” He replied, and you gave him a confused look but he didn’t seem to want to elaborate.

You sighed and sat back down, defeated. “I could’ve gotten you a present, you know. You should tell me these things in advance.”

He chuckled a little, “It’s fine. I don’t mind.”

You were determined now, though. You thought for a moment and a terrible idea popped into your head. “I think I have an idea for a gift. I dunno if you’ll like it, though.”

A bemused look crossed his face. “And what might that be?”

You bit your lip and smiled, “Trust me on this one.”

You stood up, pushing out your chair and crossing over to him. “Can you scoot out just a bit?” You asked, tilting your head to the side innocently.

A puzzled look crossed his face but he complied nonetheless. You moved to stand before him and then dropped to your knees. “What are you–!” He cut himself off when you slid your hands between his legs, prying them open just enough for what you wanted to do.

You made quick work of unbuttoning his pants and slipping his soft cock out of his underwear. You looked up at him, wondering what kind of face he would be making.

He had a shocked expression on his face and a pink flush placed prettily on it. “If I knew this was your idea of a present, I might’ve said that my birthday was every day” He breathed out and you giggled a little.

“Wow, Zhongli. Didn’t know you were such a slave to your desires,” You murmured, gently stroking his cock with your hands.

“Mhmm,” He said, not really paying attention to your words.

You took one of your hands away from him and spat into it before placing it back on the member. Your stroking grew a little faster as he hardened in your palms.

Once he was at full hardness you thought to yourself that he had a really big dick. You had first thought it when you took it out of his pants while soft, and you thought it again seeing it in front of you like this.

You gently licked at the tip, the taste of his precum filling your mouth. He whimpered and you couldn’t believe you were getting that type of noise out of Zhongli of all people.

You swirled your tongue around the head of his cock before taking more of it into your mouth. You sucked enthusiastically and he made more sweet noises. You took more of him into your mouth and he placed his hand on the back of your head, guiding you to take him deeper.

You obliged, hollowing your cheeks until your nose was nestled at the base of his cock. You began to gently bob your head and he groaned a little. “Faster,” He mumbled, his hand gripping your hair, using it to move you how he liked.

You gagged as the tip of his cock touched the back of your throat. It was worth it, though, seeing the look on his face. He was completely blissed out, eyes glossed over and a deep flush on his face.

Drool ran down your chin as he continued to fuck your mouth, starting to buck his hips up into you.

“Your mouth feels so good,” He moaned, the tone something surprising to hear from him.

The praise encouraged you to keep going and then his grip tightened on your hair, more so than before. “Oh, Archons, I’m so close,” He rasped and a shiver of excitement went through you at this news. That meant you were doing a good job.

“Ngh, fuck!” He moaned as he bucked up his hips a final time, his cum spilling into your mouth and onto your face as you pulled off of him.

You swallowed what was in your mouth and wiped some of it away. “There’s quite a lot. Have you not done it in a while?” You asked, licking what was on your fingers off.

“No. I haven’t had the time or the chances,” He said, chuckling a little.

You hummed, “Then, shall I indulge you for a bit longer? It is your birthday.”

He swallowed and you watched his Adam’s apple bob, “That sounds wonderful.”

#my writing #zhongli x reader #zhongli x reader smut #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x reader smut #zhongli

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gaylittleeddie · 1 year

Note

You want Soapghost asks, you get them… headcanons, share. It’s my favorite thing to ask bc we’re all so creative and I love it.

oh I used to make a whole tiktok series on this so I’m happy to oblige.

- Most ppl make Soap the picky eater but I actually think the opposite. (No hate to the ppl who do obviously). Ghost is the picky eater. Outside of missions, he’s very meticulous about what he eats. He doesn’t like certain textures and if it has a weird aftertaste he won’t eat it. Soap however, will eat anything you put in front of him like dog

- Soap has a thing for bad boys and always had. Any man that screams elusive and dangerous, he gets infatuated with. So he’s not at all surprised by his crush on Ghost. He does get surprised by him falling in love with Ghost, though. He’s had a strict no allowing himself to fall in love rule after he had joined the military, afraid of leaving someone behind. So in a way, both Soap and Ghost were each others exceptions when it comes to falling in love.

- Ghost is one clingy mf. Sometimes, if Soap is sketching something or watching tv, he’ll take the object from his hands and toss it to the side before settling onto his lap, pulling him in for a cuddling session. Soap calls it “dedicated to Simon time.” Each time the Scot just laughs lightly and hugs him tightly. This only happens when they’re alone tho.

- They try to keep their relationship a secret for as long as possible and it’s actually Rudy that ends up clocking them on it. Alejandro and Rudy had come down for a visit. Rudy took one look at them and said, “Glad to see you finally got together.” This causes both Price and Gaz to look over at them in confusion.

- Soap actually cut his hair into a Mohawk for two reasons. 1) it looked cool and his parents always told him no to it growing up. 2) he has a terrible habit of tugging at his hair aggressively when he’s stressed and had originally planned to cut it all off in a buzz cut but couldn’t fully let go of his hair. It’s harder to rip at like this.

- they are always in each others spaces. if soap is standing, you’ll find ghost pressed up behind him as he talks to someone. If ghost is somewhere you can guarantee you’ll see soap right next to him

- Ghost gets man flu. Badly. ghost whenever he’s sick and will spend the whole time complaining and latching onto Soap

- Although Soap will eat anything you put in front of him, if there’s a sudden hard object in his food or a weird crunch, he’ll convince himself it’s a bug or bones and will be unable to finish it.

- Price had caught onto Ghost’s feelings as soon as he had heard Soap switch from “Mactavish” “Sergeant” or “Soap” to “Johnny.”

- They communicate sometimes via tapping or squeezing Morse code into each others limbs. This is both on missions and when they’re around their friends. Bonus if this is what gets them together.

- Ghost tends to shut himself away and hide when he has a breakdown. Soap is always able to find him.

- Soap apologizes a lot when he’s breaking down. Ghost reassures him it’s okay and that he doesn’t have to apologize.

- Ghost is a really attentive boyfriend. He puts his all into loving Johnny, even if scares him. He tries every day to fight against his trauma that’s begging him to run and hide. When they first started nearing more than friends, Ghost tried his best to stay away but just couldn’t. He never was toxic to Soap. Just tried to emotionally and mentally distance himself by trying to spend a more normal amount of time with him where he tried to be more friendly than lowkey flirty. Nothing worked. So then he figured if he was going to do this, he’ll treat it like he treats a mission and give it his best shot at succeeding. Be the best he can be in his role. They have a very healthy relationship bc of it.

- Soap has two sisters. One older (by only a year. He was an oops baby as she loves to tell him) and one younger (by two years). His older sister has always been overprotective over him. She’s headstrong and practically helped their mother raise the two younger siblings since their father was always working. His younger sister is more on the shy side. She’s very quiet. Doesn’t defend herself much. She likes music and art and is actually a famous violin player. His older sister is a stay at home mom to two wonderful children. An elder boy and a girl. She named the girl after Soap bc she said said she reminded her so much of him as a baby. Her name is Johnna. Soap thinks it’s because she was born after he just left their house for a slightly longer leave.

- My friend hammy and I actually both have this one. Ghost likes photography. He takes pictures of his loved ones off guard with a Polaroid camera and keeps them in a fire proof box underneath his bed. He does this bc he really has nothing to remember his original family by, so he tries his best to keep memoirs of his found one. Soap takes up a majority of them.

- Sometimes if Soap isn’t paying attention to him when they’re on leave, Ghost will just straight up pick him up and haul him over his shoulder to bring him wherever he wants to go. Soap always loudly protests about this but let’s him do it anyways.

- Ghost is gay and demisexual. Soap is bi with a heavy male lean.

#I refuse to believe they’re not canocally in love #I love them so bad #I will forever make them soft #ur honor. them.#takes ur military men who’ve committed war crimes and makes them fall in love #fuck u. *softens up ur military men*#simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #soapghost #ghostsoap

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multimilfs · 2 years

Text

Emily Charlton x Fem!Reader: Crisis Mode

Summary: "Ew. Get away from me. No--not you. You stay."

AO3

A/N: I chose to do this for Emily because the line feels so perfect for her. I've never really written her before so this was a lot of fun!! So fun in fact that I'm pumping this out before work haha. I hope you all like it!

Prompts found here!

Tag List: @multifandomfix @escapetodreamworld @ghostsunderstoodmysoul

Warning(s): None

Though it was par for the course by now, you’ll never get used to rounding the corner and hearing Emily’s frazzled “I love my job, I love my job, I love my job.” With a job like her’s, it was impossible to blame her for how she had to stay afloat. Miranda—amazing and talented as she is—can be the devil to work for.

You came in early on the hunch that something was going to go terribly wrong. Sometime mid-trip, you wondered if that was just how it felt to work at Runway anymore; but you were too close to the office to turn around. When you stroll through the doors to see everything in pure chaos, you know it was the right choice.

The first thing you register is Nigel running past you. Not a speed-walk or a jog, sprinting. Jocelyn follows at his heels babbling under her breath. On instinct, you make a beeline for the desks outside of Miranda’s office. If they were acting like this, she couldn’t be here yet.

That’s when Emily’s mantra reaches your ears and you know the day is going up in flames. The second assistant is silent, staring between her computer screen and the papers on her desk like she couldn’t read a word of it. She looked haunted. Dark shadows under her eyes and pale skin tell you she is either very sick or severely malnourished—though you saw that often enough—and you need to get her away from Emily before she ruins anything.

“You,” You say, pointing to the second assistant as both snapped their heads to you, “Go get something to eat. I don’t care if it’s a dried cranberry or something greasy, go, and don’t come back until you can do your job.”

Emily hisses out your name and you ignore it until the second assistant leaves, then she snaps, “What do you think you’re doing!?”

“Getting her out of the way. She wasn’t going to be of any help to you, Em. Now, tell me what’s going on.”

Emily takes a deep breath and all of the days problems are unloaded; The Central Park shoot was canceled for some official city event, the new collection of Prada belts have gone missing, Miranda wants the run-through pushed to this afternoon, on and on and on it goes until you’re worried Emily is going to pass out.

You step forward and place a hand on either of her cheeks, missing the blush that erupts there, “Breathe, Em, you’re better to us alive.”

She takes a deep breath and when you’re sure she’s calmed, you offer a smile, and launch right into your plan of attack. You’d been Miranda’s assistant too once. When you’d done your time, you asked to move to the makeup department with Serena; you’d always loved painting faces and Serena was a master. Miranda had been pleased—as pleased as she could be—to oblige.

You were a bit rusty, but when you’ve played the role of Miranda’s assistant, it never leaves you. It’s like second nature to sit back at the desk and start rifling through papers.

“I’ll call the city and arrange everything with Central Park. Call the Closet staff and let them know that anything they’re working on currently is on pause, finding those Prada belts are first priority unless they all want to be out of a job. If Miranda wants the run-through today, she’ll get it, and I need at least three passable spreads from each department,” You’re dialing the line to the makeup department, smiling and saying smoothly down the line, “Serena darling, I’m with Emily, we’re in crisis mode. Can you do me a favor? Yes, I’ll explain later, but there is a pair of scuffed Manolo Blahniks in the Closet that are supposed to be used in the run-through today. Can you fill in the scuffs with eyeliner until we can send them back? You’re the best. Ciao.”

The wide-eyes and look of awe from Emily make you stop up short. You forgot that she’s never seen you in this role; by the time she came to Runway, you were comfortably in the makeup department with Serena. Offering a shy smile, you get to work, trying to ignore the way her gaze makes you blush.

It takes some subtle threatening and maneuvering, but the Central Park shoot is back on. The team will have to work fast but it’s better than losing the whole thing. Emily informs you that they’ve found the Prada belts and they’re being sent up. Staff around Runway are also bringing up their spreads for the run-through to see if they’ll pass.

Serena stops by with the formerly-scuffed Blahniks in hand and you examine them with a hard eye. If you’re really looking for it, you can tell they’re filled in. You hope Miranda isn’t hyperfocused on details today because they’ll pass if she’s distracted.

By the time all is said and done, you have an hour and a half before Miranda is supposed to show. You’re only waiting on the run-through staff at this point. Sitting on the edge of Emily’s desk and talking through the changes—pausing when she answers a phone call—is nice. It’s a brief moment of calm you rarely get with the assistant. Sure, the two of you go out sometimes, but it’s different seeing her at work. She’s in charge here when Miranda’s gone.

You believe that one day, should Miranda ever step-down, that Emily is next in line for Editor-in-Chief. No one sees what she does and has the experience at Miranda’s side. It’d be perfect for her.

You’re waiting patiently as Emily takes a call when her face drops, “Emily?” You whisper.

She hangs up the phone in silence. Her eyes, now wide, look up at you. There is pure and unrestrained horror in them. You feel a pit growing in your gut.

“Annie just canceled. She’s sick.” Emily says.

It takes you a few moments to realize she means Annie Leibovitz, the photographer for the Central Park shoot. You want to rip your hair out. Everything was going so well. But instead, you take her hands, and start to slowly walk her through how she can fix it.

You’re interrupted by everyone walking in with their run-through spreads. Seeing you and Emily at the same desk, they crowd around, talking a mile a minute and shoving garments in your face. A gaudy rhinestone belt nearly smacks you in the eye, but you’re still trying to deliver comments on each item. The noise is overwhelming.

“Enough!” Emily declares.

She’s moved away from the crowd and when you move towards her, the whole crowd follows. They’re silently holding out their garments now.

“Ew. Get away from me,” Emily snaps and you startle, stepping back just as everyone else does. She grabs your arm and pulls you back into her space, “No–not you. You stay. The rest of you organize your things in Miranda’s office and go, we’ll call if anything is especially heinous.”

They all pause and stare.

“Now!”

They scramble as if Miranda made the call herself. You watch it all happen with a small smile, impressed at the way Emily took control of everything. She looks at you and shares your smile. Neither of you think about how she’s still holding onto you.

All of them leave quickly, heads down and muttering apologies as they pass. You barely hold in a laugh. It’s only when she gives your arm a gentle squeeze that you realize you’re still touching.

You stare at one another for a long minute and you’re weighing the dangers of kissing her; so far you’re most worried about how it’d smudge her lipstick, the rest seems worth the risk. But her cell beeps and the two of you reluctantly separate.

Her lips purse and she takes in a long breath, “Miranda’s on her way.”

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