#writing has been uh really fucking hard lately so who knows when this will see the light of day lol
Text
Fic: Closer
cowritten with @astroboots
Fandom: Moon Knight
Pairing: Jake Lockley x F reader (x Steven, x Marc)
Length: 5.6k words
Rating: Explicit 🔞
Warnings: This fic contains explicit sexual content including dirty talk, spitting, anal play, and anal sex. (That's it. That's the fic.)
Summary: Jake checks an item off his bucket list, and you both thoroughly enjoy yourselves.
Notes: Many thanks to @guruan who fixed our my extremely questionable Spanish (any remaining mistakes are entirely my fault) and whose deliciously debauched art is a never-ending source of inspiration. More thanks (and uh... oh god, sorry 🙈) to the poor anon who submitted the prompt that spawned this to Cici last Kinktober and had to wait a whole year to see the damn thing. And, of course, ALL my love to my darling cowriter and 🤡💖🤡 sister, @astroboots, who always makes writing a joy, and without whom this never would have been started, finished, or posted at all.
[ twp’s Masterlist | boots' Masterlist ]
Jake hasn’t spent a lot of time in the driver’s seat over the years. For a long time he only fronted on rare occasions. Life or death situations mostly. Those hair-trigger moments when the body is in critical danger and a moment’s hesitation is all it’d take for all three of them to wind up dead.
Those times when things are too much for Marc or Steven to be able to handle? That’s when it’s Jake’s turn at the wheel.
It’s why normally the first thing he sees when he opens his eyes, in command of the body, is the source of imminent danger:
The face of the man who has a knife pressed against the collar of his military uniform in the middle of a desert.
A panoramic view through the windshield of a truck that is seconds from veering off a winding cliff-side road.
A long-haired Jim Jones wannabe staring down at him along a glowing walking stick protruding from his own chest.
But things have been different lately. For one thing, he’s been spending a lot more time fronting, and not just in dangerous situations.
For another, he’s learning that there’s so much more world out there than he’d ever imagined. There’s Ben & Jerry’s peanut popcorn flavored ice cream, Saturday karaoke nights, Derby Girls and you.
Always you.
You were just Steven’s girl first, and then somehow against all odds Marc got involved too, and now that Jake’s been allowed a taste, he's never letting you go. You’re his guide to the wide world, the road map keeping him on the right route, the safe resting place when he’s tired. Su alma, his soul.
And right now you look exhausted. Your thighs shaky and trembling, matted hair glued to your forehead, all of you dripping with sweat and other things. Steven must have really worn you out before he ceded the front.
Sweet, shy little Steven—Mr. Sunshine—who just fucked you seemingly within an inch of your life before he remembered that he needs to share.
And Marc thinks Jake is the unhinged one.
The punch of adrenaline that always comes with fronting is still running through his veins, and he’s already hardening at the sight of you on your stomach, ass up in the air on display for him, Steven’s come just beginning to drip out of you. It doesn’t matter that the body just came, it’s Jake’s turn now.
He slides his rapidly stiffening cock through your slippery folds, nudging the head against your clit, you and him both slick and sloppy with Steven's come and your own wetness.
“Aaah – Jake,” you gasp sharply into the pillow.
You know it’s him. He doesn’t know how. You haven’t even turned around to look at him, but somehow you just know. You always know. It’s an uncanny magic trick that impresses the hell out of him every time.
Jake grips one side of your ass in his free hand, squeezing hard. You’re all smooth skin and soft flesh under his finger, your cute little asshole peeking up at him. You’d kill him if he’d called it that out loud. So he doesn’t. He bites his tongue, swallowing down the groan that’s simmering in his throat at the sight of you.
He can't resist sliding his thumb over that little pucker. He barely even brushes over you when you let out a pretty gasp for him. His cock is fully hard now, and it jerks against you at the sound, so he does it again, just to see if you’ll make the same noise twice. You do.
Then you moan, sharp and keen, and he has to pull back, hand sliding over his slick length once before he leans in and replaces his thumb with the head of his cock. Taking his time, he slides it along the curve of your ass before nestling himself snugly between your cheeks. He makes an absolute mess as he goes, smearing the shiny slick left by Steven all over your bare skin until everything is a glistening sheen under the dim light as he begins to thrust forward, sliding his cock between the valley of your cheeks.
Jake's dreamed of taking you here. He wants to take every fucking hole you have, fill you up and cover you with his come until it's dripping off of–out of every inch of your body.
Mierda. Even just the thought of it has heat climbing his spine, and his cock jerks in his fist and spitting even more precome into the mess already covering your spine and the rounded curves of your ass.
He thrusts against you again, fucking himself between your cheeks, and you mewl quietly, pressing back against him. Maybe he won’t even fuck your pussy this time. Maybe he’ll just stay right here and rub his cock on your gorgeous ass until he comes all over it. Add to Steven’s mess with one of his own. He’ll do it. And reach around and rub your clit so you come too.
Maybe if he can get you used to the idea of his cock rubbing against your ass, maybe one day you’ll let him put it inside too.
"You can, you know," you mumble out into the pillows, and Jake freezes, heat streaking down to his balls, and he has to grip himself hard at the base to avoid painting your ass with his come right then and there.
Shit, did he say that out loud? He’s pretty sure he didn’t. He must have heard you wrong. Or he misunderstood. You can't possibly be offering what he thinks you are.
"You can try putting it in. I might ask you to stop if I don't like it, but..." you your knees slightly, and the move has your ass practically wiggling at him in temptation, "It feels good right now."
Jake's brain stalls out. His body flashes hot all over. The back of his neck is tingling. He squeezes the base of his cock so hard he thinks he might be in danger of doing permanent damage, but he'll be damned if he comes on your ass right now when he’s just been told he might get to come in it.
Gritting his teeth, Jake breathes through his body’s urge to come, pushing down the near-overwhelming need to shove his cock into your tight little asshole immediately. He knows he has to prep you if there's going to be any chance of you enjoying this, and he needs you to enjoy it because he wants to be able to do it again (and again and again and...)
Shit. He needs to get on with it, or he's going to finish before he even makes it inside.
Jake makes himself let go of his aching cock, leaves it bobbing and dripping in midair, and turns his focus on you.
Leaning closer, he uses both hands to pull your ass cheeks apart, and just looks at you for a minute, watching your body clench around nothing.
"You want me to fuck you here, sweetheart?" he demands, sticky thumb sliding down through the mess of your slick and Steven’s come to circle your puckered hole, almost but not quite touching it, "Gonna let me put my cock inside this tight little hole and fill it up with my come?"
You whine, your whole body shivering under him, and he grins, satisfaction buzzing in his veins when your hips cant further up, trying to get him to touch you.
It’s fucking adorable is what it is. He is starting to understand why Marc likes to edge you now. How could he not? You’re always so reactive and needy when you’re denied. You make it so fun to tease.
Sliding his thumb down, he slicks it around and around, just to watch you whine and shiver and shift, hips chasing his touch. His dick jerks with every noise you make and every time your body visibly clenches.
As fun as this is, a bright delight humming in his chest at your every little reaction, Jake doesn’t have the patience to tease you for long.
He’s not like Marc. El Jefe seems to have infinite patience when it comes to this, but it’s only a minute or two before Jake can’t wait any longer. He feels like he’s going to jump out of his skin if he doesn’t get inside you one way or another. So he stops, holding his hand still to let you “catch” him.
When you do, he sucks in harsh breath, heat punching through him as he watches you rub yourself against his thumb, heart rate spiking as you lean back, the tip of his thumb pushing inside just a little.
It's barely anything, but the feeling of you parting to let his his thumb slips inside, then squeezing him back out is addictive. He presses harder, wanting more. His thumb slides a bare inch inside, and his groan barely covers the strangled sound you make, body tensing under him.
Sweat breaks out on his forehead along with the realization that he cannot fuck this up.
"Alright, mi alma?" he asks, trying to sound sweet and gentle, but his voice, low and eager, betrays him. A starving wolf in a sloppy sheep disguise. He’s not fooling anyone, not himself and certainly not you.
Reigning himself in as best as he can, his fingers close into a fist with tight tension blaring in every nerve. Then he unfurls his palm to pet his hand over your back and down your side to give your ass a gentle squeeze.
“Do you need me to stop?"
"N-no," comes the shaky answer, and Jake thanks any gods who might be listening, "It feels a bit odd, but..." you squeeze around his thumb, hot and unbelievably tight, and Jake swears under his breath, "It’s a good odd, I think. Just– just give me a moment."
You shift slightly, clenching again, and his cock jerks and throbs like the nerves of his thumb have somehow been reattached directly to his aching length. He really fucking doesn’t want to come before he even gets inside you, but right now he’s not sure if that’s in the cards for him.
Then you push back against him, and his thumb slides in another half inch, and both of you gasp. He pulls out slightly and risks a small thrust back inside. He's rewarded by another gasp and a small moan, so he does it again, a little further this time, and this time the moan is louder.
Fuck, you look so good like this, ass all slick and slippery. Before he even knows what he’s doing, Jake leans forward, spitting onto the curve of your ass right above where his thumb is inside you.
You jerk when it lands on your skin, and he likes that. Likes that even though he’s done it before it always seems to take you by surprise. Likes how his spit looks on your skin too, shiny and slick as it slides down the crack of your ass to join the rest of the mess he’s smeared there. Likes that when he pushes it into your tight little asshole, it’s one more way that he can be inside you, make you a little bit more his in a way that will linger after he’s no longer with you.
You whine as he pulls his thumb all the way out, he spits again, hitting his target, directly on your pretty little asshole, then he presses in again, shoving more of his spit into you.
Like most things when it comes to how he feels about you, Jake doesn’t entirely understand why he likes this so much. It’s primal, somehow, a deep-seated need to mark you with himself–his spit, his scent, his come.
His cock is aching, throbbing in time with the way you clench every time he pushes his thumb into you. Jake can't stand it, has to wrap his free hand around himself, gripping as hard as he dares, and stroking slowly. He grits his teeth against how good it feels, red hot pleasure searing up his spine as he leans in to slide the head of his overwrought, leaking cock along your ass, right next to where his thumb is shoved inside.
"You feel how hard you make me?" he demands, pressing himself against you, relishing the way you shift and moan again, body still squeezing around his thumb, but loosening with every passing moment as you relax. It also has the added benefit of his precome dripping down to lubricate things even more as he thrusts into you a little deeper each time. "Fuck, I can't wait to get inside this tight little hole. You gonna let me in, mi alma?"
"Yes, yes, Jake! Please!" you cry out, only partially muffled where your face is pressed into the pillows, and he damn near loses it again. Has to press his cock against you hard, almost to the point of pain as fire licks out along his nerves, threatening to send him over the edge.
"You want this cock in your ass right now?" he grits out, vaguely aware that he should probably spend more time prepping you, stretching you so you can take him easier, but he can't wait another fucking second.
He pulls back, pulls his thumb out, and you whine out his name Jake, Jake, Jake as you push your ass up and back, chasing his touch.
He looks down to see a blur of movement between your legs, and realizes that at some point you shoved a hand underneath yourself to rub at your clit.
It’s pure impulse. He doesn’t think. Before he even realizes what he's about to do, Jake’s hand flashes out, coming down on your ass with a sharp crack that sends your flesh jiggling in an all-too-appealing way.
You cry out, sharp and high-pitched, but Jake knows from experience that it's a cry of shock, not of pain, and he quickly follows up on his advantage.
"Naughty naughty, sweetheart,” he scolds, “Who said you could touch yourself?"
You freeze, obviously caught, and several seconds tick by where he watches approvingly as the mark left on your supple skin from the impact of his hand shades into a darker hue before you whine again, "Please, Jake. I need– I need–"
That's more like it.
"Pobrecita," he croons to you, enjoying the way you relax at his gentle tone, "Do you need more?"
You nod into the pillow.
He leans in and smacks his cock against the same place his hand struck. You jolt, letting out the hottest fucking sound, so he does it again, and has to grit his teeth against the noise that wants to escape him at the sensation.
"You want this cock, mi alma?" he demands, voice harsh, "You want me fuck your ass with it right now?"
"Yes. Yes, Jake. Fuck, please. YES!" you pant out, sounding as desperate as he feels. You’re pressing back against him, hips shifting so you can press that pretty little hole right against the tip of him, acting for all the world like you're going to fuck yourself back onto his cock if he doesn't give it to you fast enough.
It's a heady feeling, to hear you beg for him, and part of him wants to hear you do it again, and again and again. To leave you there, begging for him as you struggle to fuck yourself on him. Lucky for you, he is nothing like Marc.
"All you had to do was ask, mi alma," he grates out as he begins a slow press forward, "All you ever have to do is ask, and I'll give you the world."
Your body yields to him, the head of his cock slipping inside, and he has no more words. Only a strangled groan to match your whine as you clamp down hot and impossibly tight around him.
A sparkling clarity descends, time dilating, stretching out the way it does when he's in the middle of a fight, and he can only be grateful because he's barely clinging to his composure by the tips of his fingers here.
One truth stands out above everything else: he can't hurt you.
He has to go slow, keep control, make it good for you.
Jake wraps an arm around you, fingers tangling with yours to rub desperate circles around your clit, and he breathes a sigh of relief when you relax slightly under and around him. Still he doesn't move, not sure if he can without losing it and pumping you full of his come right then and there.
It's only when your hips start to move, hitching forward against his fingers, and then back to fuck yourself a little farther onto his aching cock that he dares draw in another breath, dares to meet your movements with small thrusts of his own, fucking in a little further each time.
And you take him just like that, little by little. One slow press, one torturous inch at a time, until he's buried as deep in you as he can go.
"Fuck. Jake," you gasp out, clenching hard around him, and he groans.
He makes the mistake of looking down at where you’re stretched tight around the base of his cock, taking every fucking inch he has to give, and the sight hits him like a punch to the gut. His hips stutter forward involuntarily, and somehow you take him even deeper.
You make a strangled sound, clamping down so tight it borders on the painful, and he freezes, shuddering behind you.
"¡Mierda! ¿Estás bien?" he demands, has to stop and mentally scramble for the words before he can ask again in English, "You okay, mi alma? Shit, did I hurt you?"
"N-no. I'm okay," you pants out in response, "You can– You can move, Jake. Please. Need you to mo–"
Before you even finish the sentence, he’s already pulling out and easing back in. It’s a tight fit, your body hugging him so snugly that nothing else would fit.
Lento, he reminds himself, gently. Not too fast. Gritting his teeth against the demands of his body, he presses himself in and out of you as slowly and carefully as he can manage, and he tries to keep his fingers moving on your clit. His free hand grips your hip, fingers digging in until he’s sure it must be painful, but he can't make himself let go.
You whine, writhing under him as he inches back into you.
"Jake," you pant out, nearly sobbing his name, "Jake, Jake," and he slows further, worried that it's too much.
"No!" you cry out suddenly, and Jake freezes on instinct, holding still as you prop yourself up on one elbow, turning your upper body sharply to one side so you can glare at him over your shoulder, "Don't bloody stop. I want you to fuck me."
The words hit him like a blow, knocking the air out of him, and the determined look on your face stabs him right in the heart, his whole chest pulling tight.
"You've been so patient, Jake,” you cajole him, ���and it's good. Better than I thought it would be. I want you to stop holding back. Fuck my ass for real. Let go, Jake."
Fuck, he loves you so fucking much. The feeling is so big, he doesn't know how his body can contain it. He wants to move mountains, conquer the fucking world just so he can lay it at your feet. He'd give you anything.
But the only thing you're asking for right now is his cock, and that he’s just as desperate to give you as you are to take it.
He pulls out slowly, one… last… controlled… withdrawal, then he slams into you so hard it drives you forward across the bed away from him. Digging both hands into your hips, he yanks you back to him, back onto his cock.
"Like this?" he asks as he pulls out and slams into you again, "You want it hard? Like this, mi alma?"
"Yes– Fuck– Yes–" you gasp out between harsh thrusts, "Ja-Jake!"
His name breaking on your lips is the sweetest fucking sound he’s ever heard in his entire life, and it severs the last threads of Jake's control. He lurches forward with a roar, driving himself into your tight little ass over and over again, as hard and fast as he can go.
The force of it knocks you off your elbows, flattening you into the bed, but Jake just yanks you back, repositioning his knees as your hands scrabble uselessly at the sheets.
Every thrust is deep and relentless, burying himself inside you as deep as your body will let him, giving you as much of him as you can take. Until his hip bones are pressed flush against your ass, until his cock is buried inside you to the root, until every inch of him is enveloped by you.
He's so lost in the feel of you, he doesn't realize he’s fucked you all the way across the bed until you're precariously balanced on the edge of the mattress.
Your knee goes first, slipping sideways off the bed mid-thrust, and it's enough to pull him off balance and send you both tumbling to the floor.
Instinct takes over, and before Jake even has a chance to consciously register what’s happening, he’s already twisting, shielding your body so that he takes the brunt of the fall. He winds up hitting the hardwood ass-first before coming to rest with his head against the nightstand and you in his lap.
Miraculously, you’re still connected, the force of the fall shoving you down on his cock farther than ever before, the feeling of being lodged so far inside your tight ass more than enough to overwhelm the slight pain in his tailbone from the fall.
There's a moment of stunned silence, then you start shaking, trembling in his arms, shoulders vibrating against him. He has half a second to worry that he’s fucked up badly enough to make you cry before a loud, bright sound rings out in the room.
You’re laughing. Oh thank fuck.
"Oh my god, Jake! You just fucked me off the bed, quite literally. That's definitely a first!" you exclaim, twisting around to giggle down at him, eyes crinkled with amusement, mouth curved in an open, full-toothed smile. Jake has a handful of seconds to marvel at how beautiful you are before you shift in his lap, your body clamping down around him, and any last lingering shreds of control he might have been clinging to are gone.
Jake lifts his hips, fucking up into you, and watches your eyes go wide, a gasp falling from your lips.
It's not enough.
He grabs your hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh and rolls to his knees, and your gorgeous laughter dissolves into a broken cry of surprise as he drags you with him. The sound melts into a long drawn out moan that has the tip of his ears tingling. He can’t think, all he can do is keep going as he fucks forward into you again, his chest tight against your back as he forces you down onto all fours so he can keep fucking you.
Fuck. The wood floor is hard and uncomfortable under his knees, digging into his kneecaps. He knows it must be worse for you with his weight bearing down on you, but he can't make himself stop.
He's been dreaming about taking you this way for so long, and now he finally gets to. He knows, he knows he should stop and check on you, should move the two of you back up onto the bed where you'll be more comfortable, but that pretty little ass is stretched around him so perfectly, tight and hot around him, and his need is riding him hard.
Heat prickles from the tip of his fingers, spreading along the nerve endings along every patch of skin, fuck. It’s everywhere, expanding across the span of his chest, pooling in his abdomen, gripping into his lungs. He can’t breathe. Can’t stop. Can’t–
"Lo siento," he stutters out. "I'm sorry, mi alma. I can't– I have to–" Words leave him, and all he can do is pant against your neck as his hips jerk into you with increasingly sloppy thrusts.
His end is approaching fast, whether he wants it to or not, and he barely has the presence of mind to shove a hand underneath you, rubbing desperate circles over your clit with fingers gone clumsy with need.
He has to make it good for you. He has to. He has to–
Por fortuna, it only takes a minute for you to tense underneath him, sobbing out his name and tightening around him so forcefully that he can't keep thrusting, his cock locked in place by the tight clench of your body.
The lack of movement is enough to stave off his own orgasm, but just barely, the pleasure is overwhelming, teasing at the tip of his tongue as you shudder underneath him and you flutter rhythmically around his cock. It's so similar to being inside your pussy when you come, but it's different too. The pulse of your pleasure there squeezing him so tight it's nearly painful, but its so, so fucking good.
He breathes through it, pressing open-mouthed, panting kisses against the skin of your back. Does his best to keep his fingers moving on your clit, trying to prolong the moment for you, to draw you pleasure out as long as he can. He wishes he could see your face.
Next time, he promises himself. Face-to-face next time, so he can watch every expression you make as he fucks you full of himself and see the pleasure break across your face when you come with his cock lodged deep inside.
All too soon, you're collapsing forward onto one elbow, your other hand shoving at his where it's buried between your legs, and he lets you push his hand away, planting his palm on the ground next to your head.
You turn weakly to look up at him, pulling partially off of his dick as your body sags like you can’t keep yourself up.
"Are you ready, mi alma?" he grits out, dimly aware that he's shaking as he braces himself above you, "Ready for me to fuck this tight little ass full of my come?"
"Mmm," you hum, sweet and contented under him, "yes, please."
That's all Jake needs to hear.
He slams his hips forward into yours, and the force of the first thrust knocks you forward off your elbow, your chest meeting the ground as you half-collapse under him.
Jake follows you down without stopping, fucking into you hard. You sink a little further towards the floor with each thrust until you're flat on your stomach, but Jake still doesn't stop. He can’t, though he's sure he must be flattening you. Doesn't think he could stop if his life depended on it
He's grinding into you now with increasingly sloppy thrusts, burning heat burrowing into the base of his spine as he holds back his orgasm by sheer will, slurring out endearments against the back of your shoulder.
“Mi alma. Mi vida. Reina de mi corazón.”
And you are. His soul. His life. The queen of his heart. You are all of that and more. His gorgeous, perfect love, taking him, all of him, exactly as he is.
"Do it," you say from underneath him, and reality seems to recede, his vision tunneling in on your lips as they shape the words that just might kill him.
"Fill my ass up with your come. Fuck it into me as deep as you can. I'm yours, Jake."
Jake's orgasm crashes into him like an unexpected switch. Like a bomb going off. Like a knife sliding between his ribs, sharp and sudden. Pleasure sears though every inch of the body that has never felt more like his than it does at this moment, his forehead pressing against the warm skin of your back as he empties himself inside you in pulse after pulse of aching release.
By the time the last shuddering spasm subsides, Jake feels wrung out like a bloody rag. He barely manages to avoid collapsing on top of you, mustering just enough strength to roll the two of you to the side so that he’s no longer squishing you. Pressing a gentle kiss to your shoulder, he carefully pulls out, then pulls you back against his chest, curving his body around yours, and the two of you lay cuddled together like that for a long moment.
Eventually, his strength returns, along with the awareness that the floor he’s holding you on is both hard and probably not all that clean given Steven’s penchant for pouring sand all over. You deserve better. He gets up first, and carefully helps you rise to standing, waiting a moment to be sure you’re steady on your feet, before guiding you gently into the bathroom.
When he flips on the bathroom light, the shadow of his reflection in the small round mirror transforms into a flushed, wide-eyed Steven who mumbles, “That was… God, that was… ”
He doesn’t seem to be able to find the words. Jake’s not sure he could either, but Mr Sunshine doesn’t need to know that, so he just shoots the mirror a smug smile and tips an imaginary cap in that direction before he moves to turn on the shower.
You shiver a little when he steps away from you, so once the water is running, he wraps both arms around you, encouraging you to lean against him while you wait for it to get warm. You do, wrapping one arm around his waist in return and curling into his chest like there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.
Jake just watches you. Tilting his head back and slightly to the side to get a better angle, he lets his eyes roam over your face, taking in the soft curve of your cheek, the eyelashes feathered against the soft skin there nod that your eyes have fluttered closed, the hand you’ve settled against his chest, right over his heart, the way your lips curve up into a slight content smile.
You’re beautiful.
You always are, but right now, something about this moment makes Jake’s chest tight. It steals his breath as surely as if there were hands wrapped tight around his neck, choking the life out of him. But instead of stealing his life, it’s as if you’re giving him more of it, pumping him full of its essence, filling his chest until he doesn’t know how his body can contain the feelings you inspire in him.
The bathroom is getting warmer, steam starting to form on the mirror, but Jake is loath to relinquish his hold on you. You seem equally uninterested in leaving him. You’re snuggled contentedly into his chest, but the way you slump lower and looser with each passing second tells him that he needs to get you moving fast, before you fall asleep standing up.
“Water’s warm,” he tells you, and you hum sleepily against his chest. It’s so, so tempting just to carry you back to bed, but he knows you’ll be happier if you’re clean.
“C’mon, mi alma. Into the shower. Vamos.” He herds you gently backwards until you’re standing under the spray.
You hum sleepily up at him without opening your eyes, and he’s worried for a moment that he’s lost you to sleep already, but you stay standing when he cautiously releases you.
Reaching for your soap, he quickly lathers up a washcloth. The smell of the soap—the smell of you—quickly permeates the small space, and he breathes deep, letting the familiar scent wash over him. He runs the cloth gently over your shoulders, taking extra care with the still-visible bite mark one of them left there, then down over your chest. The skin of your breasts is soft and warm under his fingertips, and he’s half tempted to try for another round, but he feels strangely protective of your soft sleepiness.
Instead he dutifully rinses you off, letting the water cascade over your body.
You blink your eyes open long enough to shoot him another warm, sleepy smile, and the contentment in his chest seems to expand, taking root and spreading with every breath until it feels almost too large for the small space of the shower.
He steps out, reaching for a towel, and drys you off gently, before doing the same to himself with much less care.
Then he carries you back to bed and tucks you in, doing his best to straighten out the wrinkly covers before pulling them up over both of you. Curling his body around yours, he holds you tightly to him. There are a lot of things in this world Jake can do without, has done without. But this– you are no longer on that list.
In the cozy warmth of the bed with your body pressed against his, his eyes feel heavy. Jake never used to fight to stay in the driver’s seat, not once the excitement was over. But he clings to consciousness now. He wants to prolong this moment when his vision is filled, not with yet another threat to body, life or limb, but with something altogether perfect: the sight of you drifting off to sleep, your head nuzzling into the pillow, a slight smile on your face… safe.
It’s the last thing he sees as he falls into a deep, restful sleep.
.
Thanks for reading!
—
Want more to read?
from @astroboots: ’boots’ Masterlist ...or follow astroboots-writes and turn on notifications to be notified when something new is posted
.
from @thirstworldproblemss: twp's Masterlist | Author, Fic & Fanwork Recs ...or follow @thirstworldproblemss-writes to be notified of new fic
#moon knight#moon knight fic#jake lockely#jake lockely x reader#jake lockley x you#f reader#oi stuff#fanfic#astroboots#thirst world problems#lemon#q#red flags 'verse
583 notes
·
View notes
Text
finding a present you got them.
all characters depicted in my writing are from my own imagination and do NOT in anyway represent nor reflect the people in real life :)
➩pairing: ot8 x gn!reader
➩genre(s): fluff, boyfriend!stray kids
➩warnings: swearing, violence (not bad i promise), suggestiveness
➩wc: 4.2k (4,200) each varies from 330-700 words!
➩author’s note: isn’t it funny how you’re reading this and it not actually happening to you? come my love, let us hold hands whilst we cry and be delusional.
chris
You decided to visit Chris at work. You had bought him a present that you think he would really appreciate. Greeting the staff members, you made your way up to his studio and entered the code to get in.
You always loved seeing him hard at work, it was just something about how he concentrates so deeply on a song that was so sexy to you.
You walked in and placed your bag and some food you got him on the sofa. He had his headphones in so you gently wrapped your arms across his shoulders and placed a kiss on his cheek. He instantly paused what he was working on and took off his headphones.
“Hey baby what are you doing here?” He asks excitedly as he brings you to sit on his lap. He doesn’t let you reply straight away as he draws your face closer to his to kiss you lovingly.
“I have a surprise for you.” You say softly.
“Is that so?” He says raising an eyebrow at you. He pats the side of your thigh as you get up and run to your bag and pull out the gift box you have.
You make your way back over to him, but you miss the almost sorry look he gives you before it lightens up again.
You hand it to him to open and he does, careful not to make a mess of the wrapping paper. As the item is revealed he gasps.
“Wait woah, I wasn’t expecting these! Baby thank you so much oh my gosh!” He gleams.
“You like them?” You ask as you watch him pull the new noise cancelling headphones out of the box.
“Like them? Babe I love them. Thank you so much!” He says pulling you onto his lap to place kisses all over your cheeks.
“There’s more waiting for you at home.” You say laughing at how cute he looks trying his new headphones on.
“Is it the new joggers you got me?” He says admiring his newest addition to his studio.
It was as if the DJ had just scratched the record and the waitstaff just dropped flutes of champagne. It hadn’t dawned on Chris what he had just said until he looked at you and the smile fell from his face and the reality of what he just said settled in.
“Oh fuck. I meant what is it? Haha.” He awkwardly laughs to try and cover up his mistake. It was too late though as your arms had begun their journey to cross over your chest and your bottom lip en route to stick out.
“No don’t do that.” Chris says now mirroring your pout. “I promise that was a mistake. I wasn’t going to tell you that I saw you wrapping up my gifts. You looked too cute and happy to ruin the surprise.” He explains trying to pry your arms open. Lucky for him you weren’t putting up much of a fight and he wraps your arms around his neck and carries you over to sit on the sofa.
“You deserve an Oscar for that performance” You mumble. He chuckles lightly and sways you gently.
“I do don’t I?” He agrees, but it earns a sharp glance his way and he quickly apologises.
“Well since you knew I was going to give you those. Can you be surprised when I say I also brought you dinner?” You ask.
“That I didn’t actually know so let’s eat together. Then I’ll treat you to whatever dessert you want as an apology”. At that your face broke it’s annoyed exterior and you both smiled.
He may have known what you got him but at least he tried to act like he didn’t. Honestly, who could ask for a better boyfriend?
minho
You’re laying on your bed on your stomach scrolling through TikTok’s. Your ‘For You’ page has been filled with loads of videos that have been making you laugh, some getting a snort out of you.
“Uh oh seems we have a little piglet that has entered the house.” Minho says jumping on your legs and straddling your thighs.
“Rude and disrespectful. Though these are really funny videos.” You say humming with laughter. Minho starts making a beat, slapping your butt cheeks and giving them a squeeze here and there.
You would act surprised, but his infatuation with people’s bums are something that should be studied. But by STAY, not you. If you come across one more video of him attacking the boys’ butts you will start to side eye him.
He continues his impromptu song-making session as you continue to scroll. Doongie strolls in and jumps up on the bed, curling up by Minho’s pillow. Resting his little head to sleep to the sound of ‘drums’, he is startled by your eruption of laughter.
“Shh you woke Doongie. What are you even watching that’s so funny?” Minho says now laying fully on top of your back leaning his head around yours to see your phone.
You go to turn and explain to him what the video was, but a strong scent filled your senses. A scent you have smelt before, but certainly not on him.
“Min, babe, I like your cologne. Is it new?” You question carefully.
“Yep! I was looking for your nail file in your bag and found a wrapped present addressed to me. So I obviously opened it. I smell good don’t I? I’ve been receiving a lot of compliments from it today. Thank you by the way.” He says dismissively, giving your cheek a quick peck.
“How long ago did you find it?” You say trying to seem unbothered.
“Hmm, maybe a week?”
You choke slightly. So all that panicking thinking you had lost this really expensive cologne was for nothing. Because your boyfriend had found it and was getting all the compliments from your present to him.
You turn around the best you can underneath him, your phone to one side replaying the video over and over again. He looks down at you with a cheeky smile.
“Not cool.” You say.
“Oh come on, I’m sorry. I couldn’t pretend I hadn’t seen it though. Does it make it better that today was the only day I had worn it?” Minho says in between planting kisses all over your face.
“No.”
“Forgive me? I know of some ways I can make it up to you. Ways that will need for me to reapply it once I’m finished.” He purrs winking at you.
You turn your head to stop him from seeing the way you blushed at his words. He gently grabs your chin and turns your head to face him again.
“I think you squeezing your thighs together is a yes hmm kitten?” He whispers against your lips. Unable to control your breathing, you groan and run your fingers through his hair.
“Doongie, please leave. I don’t want you to see just how I am going to show my forgiveness to Y/n.” He says directing that at the orange fur ball but smirking at you.
It seems Doongie got the message because he swiftly exited the room. Just as long as you both don’t overrun and miss his and his sibling’s dinner time like last time!
changbin
Changbin walked in the house and threw his gym bag in the utility room to unpack later. He had finished early at the studio today so he thought to get his gym session in earlier today and surprise you.
However, there was no sign of you anywhere. He went to your shared bedroom and that’s when he heard the shower on and your lovely attempt at singing one of their songs.
Deciding he would very much like to join you in the shower, he goes to the wardrobe to grab a clean towel. Something had caught his eye, a bright red bag at the bottom of the wardrobe tucked away in the corner.
His interest piqued, he pulls the bag out and brings it over to the window to see it better in the light.
Inspecting the gym bag he smiles knowing this was all you, but then he finds ‘Chang-been getting swole!’ written down the side. He lets out a roar of a laugh clearly amused by your choice of word play.
It seems he was laughing for so long and very loudly that he didn’t hear the shower turn off and you call out his name.
You come racing in to find him bent over laughing wiping stray tears. Changbin immediately stops laughing when he feels a sting on his backside. He turns around looking at you incredulously, holding the cheek you just attacked.
“Should’ve named it ‘Chang-been caked up’ that shit jiggle.” You tease, wrapping your towel tighter around you.
“How. Dare. You. Smack my butt and then say it jiggles.” Changbin says eyes wide. Momentarily looking at you in your towel, but then back up to your face.
“How dare you laugh at the present I was going to give you?” You fire back. “Plus I couldn’t help myself, it’s just so juicy.”
“Yah!” he says before chasing you around the house. You had better hope you run and hide quickly if you still want to keep your backside!
hyunjin
“Babe?” Hyunjin pokes his head around the corner of the kitchen looking for your whereabouts. He was in the studio finishing a painting before he heard you scramble in. Usually greeting him with a kiss, he hadn’t seen you. That was an hour ago.
Trying his luck upstairs again, he sees the door to his studio is shut. That’s strange, I could’ve sworn I had left it open? He slowly approaches the door, placing the side of his head on the door to listen for any sign of you inside. Nothing.
He swings open the door and sees crumpled wrapping paper thrown all over the room. However what catches his eye is the mahogany wooden box, open to reveal the most finely crafted paint brush set.
He makes his way over to admire the collection, gently picking up and inspecting each brush before setting it back down in its designated spot in the box.
He quickly tiptoes out of the studio, making sure he left everything as he found it. As he was walking down the stairs with a wide grin on his face, he runs straight into you.
He jumps back all dramatic whilst you stand there staring at him with one eyebrow raised, a lollipop in your mouth.
“What’re you doing?” You question, folding your arms.
“What, no kiss hello? What flavour lollipop is that?” Hyunjin asks not giving you time to answer as he snatches it out your mouth and puts it in his.
“Yum strawberry, imagine that?” He releases the sweet with a ‘pop’ and places one arm on the wall. “Well I mean it is red so one could only assume. Though nowadays watermelon sweets are red so it could be tricky to decipher which is which. Then again you could just read the label-”
You groan overzealously which halts his rambling. You drop your arms and head in defeat and lackadaisically wander around him to the kitchen.
“What?” He says right on your tail. “Did you want the lollipop back? I mean you can have it if you want, but it’s kinda tasty.”
You shut him up with your lips on his. His eyes are wide as he looks at you quizzically.
“I hope you enjoy them my love” You say rolling your eyes as you caress his cheek.
Hyunjin bashfully looks at you and places the lollipop to your lips. You part them willingly to let the sweet treat in and immediately you are lifted off the ground and spun in the air.
“Thank you thank you thank you!” He exclaims as he spins you causing you to laugh. He places you down gently, removes the lollipop from your mouth and places a soft kiss on your lips. “I love you sweetheart.”
jisung
Jisung was playing games on your phone and singing some of their unreleased music as you were in the kitchen cooking.
He was about to get ready to belt the next line when a notification caught his attention.
‘Your Dior Order Confirmation…’
He may have gotten excited and clicked on it considering you were both talking about some Dior sunglasses the other day.
What had surprised him though, was the style that was seemingly what you had bought, looked a lot like the ones he had on his wish list. Matter of fact, he is certain they are the correct ones.
“Hey Ji, dinner’s almost ready!” You yell from the kitchen. He gets up hurriedly and makes his way into the kitchen, getting plates from the cupboard.
Though he tries, he can’t contain the excitement that is clearly showing on his face.
“What’s got you smiling so brightly? Did you complete a hard level of Wordscapes?” You ask plating the food.
“Me?”
You look around the empty apartment. “Yes you, ain’t no one else in this place.”
Jisung is still gleaming as he makes his way around you, getting glasses and filling them up with your respective choice of drink. As he goes to walk past you again, you carefully stop him, placing your hand on his chest.
“Ji…what did you do?” You ask him slowly.
“Nothing! I just love you so much. You are the best ever and I’m going to marry you someday.” He says smiling down at you. You smile softly and place a loving kiss on his lips.
──・──・・✿ ・・──・──
Your belly was fully after finishing your dinner. Jisung had washed up and insisted you both have ice cream for dessert. Though you felt you were about to explode.
As he was digging around in the freezer, you checked your phone for any messages. As you unlocked it, you were surprised to see the page it was left on.
You put two and two together instantly and couldn’t stop the rumble of laughter. He really did remind you of a toddler in many ways. It did bum you out sadly that you couldn’t surprise him fully with his gift, but it’s okay.
His mood was much more jovial since he had read that email and you found it unbelievably cute. Now here he was stuffing his cheeks with ice cream. You called his name to see the full ‘quokka face’ in action. Big eyes, raised eyebrows and big puffy cheeks. You leaned in and kissed his lips, they were cold and tasted like chocolate. You wiped the edge of his mouth with your thumb and sucked off some of the creamy goodness.
“I love you and your inability to hide anything from me” You chuckle. He tilts his head and swallows what was left in his mouth.
“Why would I hide anything from my baby?” He asks genuinely confused.
“I know you read the email.”
He starts shaking his head apologetically and mumbling incoherent apologies. “I really am sorry, I didn’t mean to look at it, but I was just playing the game and then it popped down on the screen and then I got excited because we were talking about it the other day. I’m sorry!” He rambles.
“It’s okay JiJi” You laugh watching him scramble to put the bowl once full with ice cream down and cuddle up with you.
“When I said I was going to marry you, it wasn’t because you buy me things, but because I really do want to spend my life with you. You take such good care of me when I sometimes don’t.” He confirms.
“I know, I would never think you would marry me for my money because you’re obviously not doing well for yourself huh” You joke.
“Ha ha real funny”
“Okay okay, I love you and your wallet Ji.” You tease kissing his forehead before snuggling up to him.
felix
“Fifi and the flowertots~” You sing around your shared apartment looking for your boyfriend. You went into his gaming room and was shocked to see he wasn’t there gaming or building lego sets. You take a look at the office chair he has and remember all the conversations about him complaining about his neck and his back.
You sigh softly and continue down the hall to the kitchen, humming along to the song of choice you use to call your boyfriend.
It certainly wasn’t a lovely day as what you saw stopped you dead in your tracks. It had been a while since Felix baked, but that wasn’t what surprised you.
It was the ginormous chef’s hat he was wearing. The one that you had bought as a set with his-
“Oh hi doll, ‘m making brownies!” He exclaims facing you with flour on his cheeks. You look down at the apron he’s wearing.
‘Don’t brown nose me for my brownies >:(’ it reads. His eyes follow yours and he looks down at his apron.
“Oh yeah, I really liked it and I couldn’t wait to bake with my new attire. So…I put it on and started baking.” He sheepishly admits, bringing his fingers to his neck.
You run over to him, unable to deny how cute he looks in his gift and pull him into a warm embrace.
“You know you look really cute right now. That’s the only thing from stopping me being mad at you for unpacking my gift and wearing it without me giving it to you.” You giggle.
“Cute? I don’t know, I think I wanna look sexy in this.” He says cupping your face with both hands and pretending to think.
“That’s an easy solution to fix. Clothes off. Apron and hat on.” You propose. You see a faint colouring of pink adorn his honey freckled cheeks.
“Oh. I mean. Well yeah sure.” He chokes out. You smile and bring his lips down to meet yours. He smiles into the kiss and releases with a sigh of content.
“Hey Lix”
“Hmm?”
“Don’t ruin my surprise again.” You say smiling.
“Don’t worry doll I won’t! You can have some freshly baked brownies as a sorry.” He clears his throat. “Then maybe we can test the whole, just apron on thing.” Felix lowly speaks.
“I would say you would make me a very happy person if you did both” You smile and kiss him once more before moving to sit at the island and patiently wait for your brownies.
Lucky for you, he thinks that’s his only gift. It’s going to be hard work lugging a gaming chair to his gaming room without him noticing!
seungmin
You fumble with the keys in your hand trying to unlock the front door. Why you thought you could carry your bags, some food shopping and takeout all in one trip you don’t know. Yet here you are cursing at some metal for not getting in the hole.
Suddenly the door opens and your fingers breathe, the weight being lifted off of them. You walk inside and close the door quickly. Careful to not let all the heat from the house escape outside.
“Thanks minnie” You sigh as you kick your shoes off and join him as he unloads the shopping.
You wrap your arms around him and rest your head on his back, enjoying the warmth he emits.
“This hoodie is so soft, I am definitely stealing it for a day” You say rubbing your cheek against it.
“Aht Aht! Stop rubbing up on my hoodie. You’re not stealing this one, this one is special.” Seungmin says turning round to embrace you properly and place a kiss on your forehead.
“Why?” You say as you step out of his embrace slightly and look at his new hoodie.
Wait.
“You gotta be shitting me.”
“The food smells so good, I’ll plate it up. You go find something for us to watch” He says ignoring your last words and grabbing the food containers.
“You’re wearing it!”
“Sight is such a spectacular thing to have. I’m lucky we are both blessed to see” He nonchalantly states.
“Why can’t you be a normal boyfriend and wait for me to surprise you with a gift instead of you surprising me by wearing it?” You say lightly slapping his arm to which he fails to hide his smile as he tries to avoid the onslaught of hits.
“‘Cause then I would have to pretend to not know that you got me a gift. I always know as soon as I see you looking at the labels of my hoodies or asking the boys what clothes I’ve been looking at recently. It’s cute.” He smiles kissing the pout off of your lip.
“Thank you baby I love it. Now let’s go eat.” He says kissing you one more time before tapping your butt to send you off to the living room.
One day you’ll be able to surprise him with a gift. Just not any time soon.
jeongin
You and Jeongin are walking hand in hand down the street, running errands and aimlessly browsing in stores. One of your errands was to pick up your ring that you had got replenished.
“I’ll be right back, ‘m just gonna get my ring. You can go in the clothes store and I’ll meet you in there?” You say giving a slight squeeze to his hand.
“You sure? I don’t mind waiting.” He says looking at all of the jewellery in the store before settling back to your eyes.
“Yeah I wont be long, plus I’ll know what section to find you in anyways” You reassure.
Jeongin nods once before squeezing your hands three times. ‘I love you’ he says through the action and you quickly respond, giggling to yourself.
──・──・・✿ ・・──・──
Getting your ring back took longer than expected. So much longer that when you went to find Jeongin in the store you knew he’d be at, he was already waiting outside of it sat on a bench nearby.
He had a big bag of clothes and shoes that he said he would show you once you were home. He said he ‘Couldn’t help himself’ and ‘You weren’t there to monitor him’. To which you just rolled your eyes in response.
Now you’re sat on the sofa as he gives you a fashion show, which you are thoroughly enjoying.
“And for the last outfit, drumroll please” He announces around the corner. You start to tap the armrest of the sofa to mimic drums which cues his entrance.
The smile that once adorned your face fell all the way to your knees as you stared at his outfit open mouthed in shock.
“That is not a ‘he’s so sexy I want to rip those clothes off of him’ look.” Jeongin says freezing in place at your reaction.
“Bitch...”
“What did I do?” He says mildly panicking.
You quickly rush to your bedroom and pull out a ginormous gift box from underneath the bed. You run back in and practically throw it in his arms.
“Woah! You got me a big gif-”
“Shut up and open it.” You interject. He looks at you taken aback before quickly doing as you say.
He reads the little note you left on top. ‘Thought you would look good in this <3’. He coos before he looks further inside the box.
Oh.
He pulled out the shirt and held it up in front of him. He clears his throat and lays it on the back of the sofa. He then pulls the jeans out the box and places them below the shirt. Laying the outfit out in full, his face goes pale. He looks back in the box to see a pair of shoes.
“What the actual fuck is going on in Beyoncé’s planet earth right now?” He speaks solemnly.
You look down at his outfit and then to the sofa, then back to him. You had literally bought every piece of clothing, including the shoes, for him and was planning to gift it to him.
Without intention, you both put up your fists and start to circle around each other.
“Who are you, imposter?” You threaten, bucking up.
“Me? You’re the one that’s in my head apparently. How did you know I would get this exact outfit.” He retorts.
You go to throw a punch, but he ducks out the way just in time. He stumbles slightly and you use that as the opportunity to strike him in the stomach.
“OW!” He screams. You feign gasp and step back.
“Oh sorry! I didn’t mean to actually hit you!” You lie. He huddles over sputtering and pretending to die. You crouch down besides his body and get close to his face.
“You ever pull some freaky shit like that again, I will send your ass to Area 51. Trust.” You whisper before placing a kiss on the side of his head.
“Oh and I’m keeping the outfit for myself!” You say grabbing the clothes and putting them in your room.
Jeongin sits up and starts uncontrollably laughing to himself. He grabs his phone and starts a group facetime with the boys.
“You will never believe what just happened.”
ʚ hope you enjoyed ^.^ you can support me by liking, commenting and reblogging! it is heavily appreciated ᵕ̈ ɞ
i do not permit my work to be translated or reposted in any way, thank you.
© 2023 diddybok
#skz stay#skz x reader#skz fluff#skz fanfic#stray kids fanfic#stray kids x reader#skz han#skz felix#skz hyunjin#skz lee know#skz chan#skz changbin#skz jeongin#skz seungmin#skz x gn reader#stray kids x gn reader#skz#stray kids#another day another slay
705 notes
·
View notes
Text
honeysuckle (guy/honey, redacted audios)
Guy is having not-so-wholesome thoughts about his recently turned roommate-to-lover.
NSFW CONTENT!! (minors dni pls!)
(suggestive, making out, dirty thoughts, implied sexual content at the end)
3.2k+ words [ao3 link] [masterlist]
[cw/notes: idk man guy is horny and theres a lot of horny stuff but it's not SUPER explicit (i think) and plsplsss im asking for feedback bc this is the first time writing something this suggestive hope u enjoy!! OH also as always theres probably grammatical errors and guy might be OOC]
A HUGEEE thank you to the wonderful @slushiepizza for all the amazing suggestions and support throughout writing this fic!! this rlly would not be finished without ur help thank you for ur service in providing quality guy/honey content SHAKING U RN ILY!!!
Guy is a daydreamer.
Ask anyone who knows him, from his grade school teachers to his apartment neighbors, and they can attest that Guy never seems to run out of topics to talk about. Never a dull moment, much less a dull idea to mull over when he’s around.
In fact, his imagination is something he prides himself in. After all, as an aspiring writer, it’s what gives the very soul of all of the stories he wants to share with the world—whether it’s the exciting plot of a potential novel he has been writing (and rewriting) all night throughout the week or an epic fantasy he was able to make up on the top of his head and narrate to the kids by the playground of the middle-school he makes deliveries to.
Guy is a daydreamer.
And it might be the very trait that would be the root of his current predicament.
Slow hands, languid movements
“Does this feel good, Honey?”
Heavy breaths, sharp gasps
“You can get r-rougher, babe. I can take it…”
Warm bodies, warmer lips
“M-mhm, Guy…”
Fuck. Their lips…
“Guy?”
Fuck.
“Guy!”
Fuck.
“Hello? Earth to Guy? You with us, buddy?”
Shit. Fuck. Fucking shit.
“Wh-wha-what? H-hi! Yeah, of course I am. I am here. On the earth. Present. With you guys,” Guy cleared his throat awkwardly after seeing the unconvinced, deadpan looks on his co-workers' faces. Rosa specifically had her brow raised in suspicion to which Guy responded with a nervous smile. “Uh, what’s up?”
“What’s up,” The woman repeated, “Is your constant staring into space! You almost burned the dough if it weren’t for me keeping an eye on you! I’m used to your head in another world but you’ve barely said a word for the past few hours!” The others nodded in agreement.
Rosa's hard eyes softened, “Is everything okay with you? Something botherin’ you or what?”
Right. Dough. Pizza. He’s making pizza. He’s kneading dough. The flour clinging to his hands suddenly felt heavier, the scent of basil overwhelmed his nose and the chattering of the customers increased in volume but that meant that everything was starting to make sense. He took in his surroundings, which were quickly clearing up for him, to finally decipher that he was still in Max’s, in the kitchen and it was still his shift.
Definitely not with his recent roommate-to-lover and definitely not in their dimmed bedroom, straddling them on their bed with a delightfully sinful expression painted on their face as his shaky hands slowly creep up between their—
Oh my god.
The very thought of them already leaves Guy's legs feeling like jelly. These daydreams had been a problem for him for quite some time. It wasn't like it was a crime to get all hot and bothered over his partner! Yet, lately, an unexplainable sense of shame builds inside him whenever his mind wanders to more…impure scenarios with them.
Because despite what anyone might think of him and how he jokes about it, he's a little scared of being intimate with someone—no—with Honey.
Oh fuck, someone asked him a question.
“Uh, yeah, I’m fine. Just a lil’ tired, I guess.”
And he isn’t lying, really. The fatigue of making pizzas and serving tables was no joke and, with all the very interesting fantasies occupying his mind, his shift slightly just got more difficult to get through than what he was used to. (Thank god he's not on delivery duty right now. He's self-aware enough to know he would get into an accident with his current situation)
His co-workers still looked suspicious but accepted his answer nonetheless, hurriedly going back to their tasks to avoid the wrath of their manager. The man let out a sigh of relief as he resumed his own tasks for the day.
As his grueling shift came closer to an end, he was more than ready to take the apron off and get the absolute fuck out of that kitchen.
—
Guy might actually be the first person in all of Dahlia to dread coming home to an apartment that he shared alongside his (literal!) dream partner who was waiting for him after a long, tiring day at work.
Honey, who was all bundled up in a blanket on the couch, paused the show playing on the T.V. to face their boyfriend and properly greet him, “Hey, welcome home. How’s work?”
“It was shit. Did you eat already?”
He saw them already heading their way to their small kitchen, reaching for something in the refrigerator. “Yeah, I left some for you in the fridge. We can heat it up if you want?”
“Nah, it’s okay. I ate back at the restaurant. What are you watchin’?” But before he could get a reply, Guy’s body stiffened when he felt a light shock from where Honey had suddenly touched his upper arm.
Light touches.
Heavy panting.
Hot air.
“Oh, f-fuck, Guy. Do that again, hon. Please. Don’t stop, don’t—”
“ —think I didn’t hear you, mister! What do you mean your day was shit?” If Honey had noticed their boyfriend flinching at the mere tap on his shoulder, they didn’t comment on it.
“U-uhm,” He coughed and shrugged lamely to hide his reaction. “Just the usual stuff.” The man put down all his stuff on the nearby coffee table. “C-can I just lay on your chest for a while? If it’s okay with you.”
Despite Honey’s aloofness, they can recognize when their partner is truly in need (And who could say no when their boyfriend’s usual chaotic self sounds so adorable being shy?) The gentleness in their gaze was enough to calm Guy’s frazzled mind, even just for a bit, before sitting on the sofa and patting on the empty spot beside them, albeit looking quite unsure on how to comfort him.
“C’mere. Do…do you wanna talk about it?"
Guy simply shakes his head before letting himself crash onto the couch and into his beloved's (with the second "e" pronounced!) welcoming arms—or, at least, what welcoming might look on Honey. He can feel the rigidness of their posture, remembering how awkward they can be with physical touch, yet here they are, going out of their comfort zone just to make sure he feels better.
It makes him guiltier to know why he was acting like this in the first place.
“Can you…talk about your day instead, Honey?”
They rolled their eyes with a fond smile, “Fine, but don’t think I’m letting go of it that easily, m’kay?”
As Honey recounts the events of their day (which honestly isn't much), their stiff demeanor eventually relaxed to the point where they were more comfortable with absentmindedly giving affection, unaware that they’d been playing with Guy's hair for the past few minutes. The gentle massages on his scalp were a much-needed distraction for his mind.
That is until he felt a sharp tug from Honey in an attempt to untangle their fingers between his messy locks.
Fistfuls of hair.
Skin on skin.
Arched backs.
"Fuck, keep doin’ that, Honey. Oh–”
“—shit! Sorry about that. Did I pull too hard?” Honey was already moving their fingers away from his head before Guy quickly (a little too quickly) halted the movement. Guy guided Honey’s hand back to its original place on his head, squeezing ever so slightly.
“No! It's okay, Honey. Just…keep it there.”
Honey gives him a knowing smirk, “You are acting so weird, you know that?”
“Just indulge in a poor man’s wishes, will you?” Guy dramatically lamented, really wanting to avoid the conversation and go back to relaxing and getting some rest.
“Whatever you say, man,” They replied, resuming from where they left off with their story.
As much as Guy would love to listen, his focus started wandering elsewhere as his mind drifted to sleep.
The ticks of the clock, the scent of Honey’s body wash, the number of their eyelashes.
The texture of Honey's soft blanket.
Messy sheets.
Desperate thrusts.
Sweat dripping.
"Oh god, G-Guy, I think–I think I'm g-gonna–"
"--come?"
"H-huh?" Guy hadn't realized how hard he was gripping the throw pillow on his lap. At this point, he’s going to expose himself one way or another if he keeps being out of it. He tried his best to compose himself, hiding his distress behind a laugh. "S-sorry, Honey. Could you repeat that?"
Honey did a face, softly chuckling for a bit, before repeating their question. "I said; 'I'm gonna go buy a gift for Ollie’s birthday tomorrow morning, do you wanna come? It’s your day off tomorrow, right?”
“Uh, y-yeah. Of course. I’d love to, Honey!”
Honey stared for what felt like forever before making a face again, this time, looking like they had just been enlightened by something and letting out a snort that was so adorable, Guy almost forgot why he was avoiding their gaze.
"Pfft– Guy, you—" Honey said through their stifled giggles (that was a tell-tale sign of the belly laughs they only share with him and no one else). They never got to finish the sentence, trying but, ultimately interrupting themselves with their own laughter.
He smiled, happy to see them show this much emotion towards him when to others they tend to be more closed off (albeit, a little confused about what caused it so suddenly). “I'm what, Honey? Hey! I'm what? Do I have something on my face?”
“You’re—pfft!”
Familiar playful slaps targeted his thighs with a faint sting he’s too far used to. He notices that their smile had their teeth showing, too busy laughing to cover it with their hand like they often do.
Guy’s crumbling.
He knew his desires were seeping through the cracks and it took all of his willpower to resist tackling them then and there—to feel every inch of their body and give them every last bit of pleasure they rightfully deserved. But he can't. He shouldn't.
So, he opts for a kiss on the cheek instead.
Something sweet enough to mask how hard his mind was reeling with overly aggressive affection. As he continued with his fleeting, featherlight attacks on Honey's face, his lips felt the smile that their mouth formed (accompanied by an out-of-breath “Guy, that tickles!”) and he found that pulling away was more difficult than he thought.
After a while of innocent pecks and bubbling snorts, Honey raised a hand to wipe a tear from their eye. They were looking directly at him now, eyes soft with their lips slightly parted and panting from laughing too hard.
Lips. Their lips.
“Guy, you good?”
A man can only have so much self-control before he breaks.
The next few moments felt like a blur. A hitched breath, a tightened grip. His lips hungrily meet theirs and the moan he immediately lets out was almost pathetic. But he couldn’t give a damn about anything other than the pleasurable weight grinding down on his crotch.
They felt so good. Everything felt so fucking good. The spinning in his mind paired with the aching throb of his cock were all too much to handle that he can’t even tell if this was real or if it was the same fantasies that had been torturing him all day.
No. It’s real. It’s all real.
Despite the haze in his surroundings—despite all the noise—the only thing occupying Guy’s thoughts were the whimpers coming out of Honey that were better than anything he could have ever dreamed of.
“Fuck,” He swore under his breath, the friction against his growing bulge breaking down any sense of sanity he had left. Guy squeezed their thigh a little harsher than intended, making Honey loudly moan out in surprise.
He took the opportunity to slip his tongue into their mouth, lapping up all the sounds he managed to coax out of them. Honey’s hands found their way to his hair, tugging like last time with more intent than before and it dragged out a needy whine from his throat muffled between their lips.
Unfortunately, the breathlessness he was experiencing isn't the same type he feels when he's around Honey and he remembered that humans do, in fact, need oxygen in their system. He pulled away from them for a quick breath, taking pleasure in how they desperately chased his lips with a soft whine, before immediately aiming at their jaw, sucking, licking, and biting skin as it trails down on their neck.
Honey is quick to respond, their fingers ghosting the hem of his work uniform before sliding them up, keeping his squirming body steady by grabbing his waist with one hand as the other roams to his chest, the shirt riding up with it and they feel his heartbeat speed up against his ribcage.
The sensation leaves Guy lightheaded. He swore he could see stars, especially after their warm palms stroked past a particular spot he didn’t even know he was sensitive to. The action had him writhing under the weight on his lap and Honey’s sudden thrust against his clothed dick brought out a stuttered gasp from him with his hips bucking up involuntarily.
“Shit, baby,” Honey whispered, the strain in their voice evident as they grind down harder just to hear Guy’s wanton moans one more time. “So fucking needy.”
Hot breaths.
Bare skin.
Intoxicating scents.
This felt like Deja vu.
Guy had seen this before. He dreamt of it so much that it felt like second nature for his body. During nights when his partner hadn’t been home yet and he was feeling oh so, lonely—so desperate. Nights when his imagination had gone truly wild, the same scenario that he had been replaying over and over again. The one where he would have them in a panting mess.
He vividly remembers what goes next. The movement is practiced—etched into his memory. Every bone, every nerve in his system practically has it memorized in its core.
He pins them on the arm of their sofa, the air is hot and heavy. One final passionate kiss, one final slip of his tongue, one final grind between their legs, and his hands would reach down, down where they needed him the most to—
“A-ah, Guy, w-wait!”
And just like that, Guy’s mind snaps back to reality.
“Fuck, I’m so sorry.”
“I-it’s okay.”
“No, no, I’m really sorry. I–” He hurries to back away, pushing off his body and sitting upright with an arm’s distance away from an equally disheveled Honey. Fuck, they looked so pretty with their lips swollen like that. His eyes guiltily avoided the abundance of purple marks he wasn't even aware he left on their neck. Shit, focus! “I don’t know what came over me. I’m–”
“Guy, it’s okay, I like it!” Honey cuts him off, not allowing their boyfriend to give himself to blame for something that didn’t even need his apologies. “I like it a lot. I was just…worried. Ever since you came home you were acting kind of off and I don’t want you to go through with this when I feel like something’s bothering you.”
Honey reaches out to him with concerned eyes, which should probably be an indicator for Guy of how odd he has been acting as of late. Their fingers find his knuckles, gently tracing circles on them as they patiently wait for his response.
Guy never knew his heart could beat faster, given how…intimate their latest activities were, but here he is, out of breath and falling in love all over again.
“I-I know this is kinda weird and I’m being really weird and everything is weird right now but I…uhm. Well, I guess you were right about me being all bark but no bite after all, eh?” He cringes at the way his voice cracked at the end and clears his throat for the nth time today.
“Okay, what I’m trying to get to is that…I've…been thinking about you…in a not-so-wholesome way for a while now. And I know, I know, this isn't new. I've flirted with you before and you already said you were okay with it, even with the raunchier ones but I'm just…"
Guy nervously looks away to the side, his eyes downcast to avoid Honey's curious stare. "This feels like a whole new thing now that we’re actually together and it really means a lot to me. Us. You're actually one of the best things to ever come into my life and I don't want my lack of…keeping it in my pants…to make you uncomfortable. I’m sorry for not saying anything sooner."
The deafening silence that followed his vulnerable confession might possibly be one of the worst things he ever had to experience. Then, a sudden giggle tore through the tense atmosphere.
Honey was laughing again.
“I-I’m sorry I didn’t mean to laugh but w-was that the thing that’s been bothering you?”
They moved closer to their boyfriend, that's currently sporting a comically betrayed look on his face. “I've noticed your hard-on already, Guy. And don’t worry, I've been…thinking about you like that too for a while now.”
Guy wished nothing more than to get swallowed by the ground beneath him.
“I–What the fu–YOU—!” Guy sputtered, not quite sure if he should feel relieved or embarrassed at the moment but one thing stuck to his thoughts, Honey felt the same.
“Honeeeey! You can't just say that and—I can’t believe you would—! Oh, you have no idea how much I've been through today!”
“I'm sorry!” But their shit-eating grin says otherwise and Guy can't help not to get mad anymore with that face. “Besides, it was kinda cute seeing you all flustered for once. Serves you right, you brat.”
“Oh wow, I’m the brat in this situation? You…torment me and now you degrade me with such scornful slander?” The man places a hand on his chest melodramatically. “I’m heartbroken, Honey…and still hard!”
"Hm…Well, then," Honey's half-lidded gaze directs itself to Guy's lips. The sultry tone of their voice tickles his brain in the best way possible. "Do you want me to—"
Guy lets out a surprised squeak as his back suddenly hits their sofa with a forceful 'thump!' Their hand is placed on the side of his head, fingers twisting around his curls. The other found its way on his thumping chest, carefully sliding downwards at an antagonizing pace.
"—lend you a hand? After all, I must’ve been quite the headache for you, in more ways than one."
“Oh no,” Guy started, easily maneuvering their positions to have his partner on their back “No, no, no, you’ve been teasing me for far too long, Honey.”
“Let me," He drags his hips across theirs and he revels in the way Honey chokes on their breath. “Handle this. Is that alright with you, baby?” He wishes he could take a picture of this moment. Seeing them writhe under him was a sight he never wanted to forget.
Honey gulps before their lips form a nervously excited grin. Their pupils are blown wide in anticipation. "You better get to work then, Guy."
Then, they slowly lean towards Guy to whisper their next words to his burning ears, “And don’t worry about being rough, hon. I can take it.”
Guy is a daydreamer.
But no daydream can ever compare to the reality he's going to be experiencing right now.
#redacted audio#redacted asmr#redactedverse#redacted guy#redacted honey#redacted fanfic#suggestive#mdni#sten writes!#wow how long since i last used that tag
271 notes
·
View notes
Note
Could you perhaps write something where gn!mc is just,,, a complete asshole. Fully standoffish and rude, I think it'd be hilarious [bonus points if they have a traumatic backstory for WHY]
No bonus points for me because my asshole MCs exist in a state of suspended animation and they're just like this Because They Are.
Now, I go on and actually explore my idea from an earlier prompt that MC being standoffish would derail the entire plot of OG Season 1 since it requires them to help Belphie get out of the attic.
And if you're wondering, yes, Solomon is quoting KJV Book of Revelation at the end there.
How Your Year-Long Vacation In the Devildom Ended in the Apocalypse
or; Asshole Standoffish MC says what?
Ship: None
Word Count: ~1.3k
Triggers: Uhhhh... (points to the title)
-----
You're not here to make friends.
And you're definitely not here to date any million-year-old demons who look like they stepped out of the pages of Esquire.
You're here because you're Fate's favorite bitch, and apparently you haven't been suffering enough lately.
So you go ahead and announce all that to your host family the first time you all sit down for dinner.
"...Are humans like that?" asks Asmodeus, looking between you and his brothers. "...I...I don't remember humans being like that."
"Wow. Okay," says Leviathan, staring at his Switch. "First of all, what's your damage. Second, you should probably find the demons who are interested in dating you and let them know, lmao." He fist-bumps Mammon without looking up from the screen.
"What's Esquire?" asks Beel.
"I'm gonna go eat in my room," you say. "Goodnight."
As you leave, you hear Mammon mumble, "Well, they were right about being a bitch."
------
Things aren't any less irritating at that stupid school. Honestly, who names a school after themselves and the fact that they're royalty? Was he just trying to make an easy acronym? Seriously. 'Royal Academy of Diavolo'.... It makes you cringe, hard.
So you sit in the back of all your classes and doodled your favorite sleep paralysis monsters getting closer and closer to the foot of your bed over the course of the day. You're just getting to where you can see the empty white scleras staring up at you when Dumb, Dumb, and Dumber turn up, A.K.A. the other exchange students, A.K.A. Simeon the Angel (dumb), Luke the Baby Angel (also dumb), and Solomon (dumber), the immortal human sorcerer and also the ancient king of Jerusalem? (Like, that Solomon? What the fuck, why does he look like a twenty-three year old anime boy?)
"You must be the newest exchange student," says the tall angel.
"Yeah, and?" you answer.
"Hey, you don't need to be so rude to him!" says the baby angel. His voice makes you want to throw yourself into a furnace.
"Yeah, and?" you answer again.
"Haha! So the new student has some spunk! I like that," says the Biblical king.
"Why are you all bothering me? I was drawing my sleep par--"
"We should all hang out at Purgatory Hall sometime," suggests Simeon, proving he hasn't been paying attention. "By the way, why did Diavolo end up putting you in with the brothers instead of situating you with us?"
"Because I walk around naked at night and I don't care who sees, and there's a child in your dorm."
"Really?" asks Simeon, covering Luke's ears. "Why do you do that?"
"Because fuck you, that's why. Leave me alone."
"I don't remember humans being like that," murmurs Simeon to Solomon as they walk away.
------
"I'm a human too," says the demon in the attic.
"Uh-huh," you say with undisguised skepticism. "And you want me to forge pacts because...?"
"Because then you can release me. Us humans have to stick together."
You let that hang there for a few seconds before dropping the ax.
"...So I know you're Belphegor. Because your fucking picture is up in the house. You absolute moron."
His expression drops.
"You idiot. You lying shit. Don't waste my time like this again. I'm not forging pacts with any demons. I know you missed my first dinner here, but to sum it up: I'm not here to make friends."
"I don't remember humans being like this," he mumbles to himself. "Wha- hey! Wait! Where are you going?! Come back! Come- come back!!!"
-----
It's Diavolo's birthday party, and Lucifer forces you to come.
By that, I mean he physically picks you up and drags you there while you struggle and rage.
"I don't remember humans being like this," Diavolo says to Barbatos with some concern as he sees you carried thrashing through the entry.
"Oh, they absolutely are," argues Solomon. "I only calmed down after I'd been around about a hundred years. But for their stage of development, I'd say they're pretty much par for the course."
Barbatos stares blankly at Solomon as Diavolo nods sagely. "I see, I see... I suppose I'll have to keep that in mind when selecting our next exchange student."
-----
"Finally! The year is almost up, which means this loser's going back to the human world, and Belphie's gonna come back home!" cheers Mammon.
"Very expository of you," Satan replies dryly.
"Oh, Belphie is Belphegor, right? Your youngest brother?" you ask, looking up from the knife you've been sharpening. It's one of the chores you reluctantly accepted over the course of your stay here. You're taking care of your knife duties while brothers 2 and 4 cook dinner.
"Uh, obviously," snorts Mammon. "Why, what do you care? You'll be gone before he gets here."
"I forgot I never mentioned this to any of you. He's in the attic."
Mammon and Satan stare at you. Mammon chuckles nervously. "Whaaa? Don't be stupid, there's nothing up in the attic. Lucifer doesn't even let us go up there."
You stare back at him, unblinking. The two brothers glance at each other.
-----
You sit on your suitcase in the front hall of the House of Lamentation as the place goes up in flames.
Beelzebub is in a mindless rage, cursing Lucifer and breaking down walls. Every now and then, the entire house rumbles, indicating its structural integrity is just that much less solid.
Leviathan summoned Lotan in a moment of panic when Mammon kicked his door in and announced that Belphegor was going to war against the human world and Lucifer and Diavolo and he'd better pick sides before he got drafted, so the entire ground floor is soaked in a few inches of water and tentacles keep reaching out from the depths of the house. You swat them away whenever they get too close. You're not sure where Levi is now, but based on the fact you can hear Mammon screaming and pounding at the bathroom door, you can make a good guess.
Asmodeus released Cerberus from the basement after charming him, and when he realized the dog was too enraptured to obey Lucifer, the pressure got to him and he fled. Now the two are on the war path to Majolish, because 'all this drama is stressing [them] out' and 'this is how [they] cope, okay?'
Lucifer is grappling with Belphie and Satan, who, upon hearing that Belphie intended to rebel against Lucifer, joined his cause. He keeps trying to bang their heads together; you can see it happening in front of the fireplace down the hall. But Satan's tail keeps slashing at him like some sort of prehensile melee weapon and it's clearly at least somewhat effective.
Looking up, you see what appears to be a pair of dragons grappling in the sky, and all around you are the sounds of screams and sirens. The earth rumbles around you, and even the stars seemed to be falling from the sky.
"I can't believe you did it!"
You turn around in surprise as the door opens. Solomon stands there, beaming at you like a proud father. "You really did it! You broke the sixth seal!"
"Sorry, what?"
"'And I beheld when he had opened the sixth seal, and, lo, there was a great earthquake; and the sun became black as sackcloth of hair, and the moon became as blood!'"
"Sorry, what?"
The roof begins to cave in, so you step out of the way, and Solomon laughs maniacally.
"It's still going! 'And the great kings of the land said to the mountains and rocks, "Fall on us, and hide us from the face of him that sitteth on the throne!"'" Another chunk of the ceiling crashes directly in front of you.
"Are you high?"
"Yes!"
"Share."
So we smoke a joint, staring up through the broken roof into the starless sky, watching demons and brawl, awaiting the breaking of the seventh seal: silence.
#ask response#dthc#daytaker fanfic#i have no idea what happened towards the end#i just went all out#obey me#obey me fanfic#fanfic#solomon#mc#lucifer#diavolo#satan#mammon#barbatos#levi#simeon#luke#asmo#beel#belphie#ensemble#anon ask#i might be inconsistent with my writing time-wise but you can't deny these mcs i pump out are metal as fuck
50 notes
·
View notes
Text
A few more SSS incorrect quotes
I haven't posted sss stuff in a while and this has been in my drafts for forever so here we go! (Some of these were edited or created by me & take place in a past timeline- also don't ask why some of the spacings are weird idk)
Silas: Do you cook?
Roma: I made a cake once.
Marshall: Yeah, it was good.
Roma: Really?
Marshall: Don’t make me lie twice, Roma.
Orion: Some people are like slinkies.
Rosalind: What?
Orion: Not really good for much but bring a smile to your face when you push them down the stairs.
Rosalind:
Rosalind: Please don't push Alisa down the stairs.
Orion, pushing Alisa down the stairs: Too late.
Benedikt: You need to stop swearing so much.
Oliver: Shut the fuck up.
Benedikt: Yeah, that's not how you do it.
Oliver: Alright sorry. It's just that it's hard not to swear. The words just creep up on me when I least expect it.
Benedikt: Now now, don't be like that. Just replace the swear words with 'beep' and you'll be fine.
Oliver: Shit the beep up.
Benedikt:
Oliver: SHUT, DAMMIT! I MEANT SHUT!
Orion: I've never encountered a problem that can't be solved by an spontaneous musical number.
Juliette: BEHOLD, the field in which I grow my fucks! Lay thine eyes upon it, and thou shalt see that it is barren!
Alisa: Uh, I think I got your lunch. *Holds up a note that reads: ‘I am very proud of you. Love, Orion’*
Rosalind: Oh yeah. I didn’t think this was for me. *Holds up a note that reads: ‘Be good. For the love of God, Please be good.’*
Rosalind: I owe you one.
Orion: It's ok, you can just date me and we'll call it even *winks with two eyes*
Alisa, after getting a library card: Now I know what true power feels like. *proceeds to climb on top of the bookshelves*
Roma: Guys, Orion is missing.
Celia: Good.
Alisa: I tried to write ‘I'm a functional adult’ but my phone changed it to ‘fictional adult’ and i feel like that’s more accurate.
Orion: Oliver is at that very special age where a kid only has one thing on their mind.
Phoebe: Girls?
Oliver: Homicide.
Phoebe: Hey! Wanna hear a joke?
Silas: Sure.
Phoebe: Your life!
Silas: Actually, my life isn’t a joke, jokes have meaning.
Phoebe: Silas...no.
Orion: Now, if I may speak for good-looking people everywhere...
Oliver, rolling his eyes: Only as their rodeo clown.
Benedikt: Celia, we tried things your way.
Celia: No, we didn't.
Benedikt: I did it in my head and it didn't work.
Roma, clearly exhausted: Did you have to stab them?
Future Katherina: You weren’t there. You didn’t hear what they said to me.
Roma: What did they say?
Future Katherina: "What are you going to do, stab me?"
Juliette, calling from the other room while sharpening her knives on a bowl: That’s fair!
Roma, rubbing his forehead, annoyed: In what world?
Alisa: I desire moisture.
Oliver: Please just say "I want water" like a normal person.
Silas: You know I think my life has value.
Orion: Who are you and what have you done with Silas?!
Sorry for not having posted anything Secret Shangai in a while- just been super busy. Probably not going to be as active on here just because I literally do not have the ability to be- but I'll hop on every so often and check in! Thank you to everyone doing their best to keep the fandom alive, I'll continue to try to contribute to that! <333
#chloe gong#foul heart huntsman#foul lady fortune#secret shanghai#our violent ends#these violent delights#last violent call#secret shanghai finale#secret shanghai series
25 notes
·
View notes
Text
A little love post to HORROR JRPGs
Content Warning:
So I'm gonna be talking a lot about some pre-Undertale era RPG Maker Horror games, and this post is gonna contain both spoilers and the discussion of the following:
Blood and Gore
Psychological horror
Child abuse
Sexual assault
Suicide
Violence
Fictional minors being put into very messed up situations, because that's just the kinds of games these are
Other upsetting themes
Hetalia (because I can imagine that all of us have very complex feelings about this fucking franchise. It existing feels like it needs a warning)
This post is a nostalgia trip and exists purely because uh. I have literally no one else to talk to about these games, and please just click away if any of the above makes you uncomfortable in any way. Some of this stuff can't exactly be handwaved as just being products of their time.
I'll draw smthn real quick later just to make up for it I promise
I'm like days late to Halloween but I just wanted to write this after getting a bout of nostalgia lmao
I absolutely fucking love Horror JRPGs - the freeware ones, even though I haven't touched one in a LONG time. I'm talking about the pre-Undertale era freeware games by the way, and in the first place I don't think I can consider Undertale a horror game but that's a topic for another day. OneShot also doesn't count aksjak OneShot gives me existential dread and a nonzero amount of guilt sure, but never terror
But let's dial that back a bit.
To begin with. 'Vir, you're a fucking coward, you run upstairs when you see that someone on TV has a gun. You can't stand watching horror movies. How the FUCK did this happen'
Weirdly, you can thank Hetalia for that. Specifically, the freeware Hetalia fangames that used to circulate on DeviantArt - that shit led me down this rabbit hole. And I guess it made sense, most Hetalia fangames are a coin toss between a horror game and a fantasy JRPG with countries getting isekai'd. I also played the fuck out of those.
For a bit of background, I love video games, but neither me nor my family ever really had that much spending power to buy game consoles, so my selection was pretty limited. Before I turned 18, I remember that we owned a GameBoy, a GameBoy Advance, a PSP, and one of those Fun-Sized Nintendo consoles with built-in games. We never bought cartridges either. I got my first DS from my dad on my birthday when I turned 18, and that's all the consoles that my family has ever owned. Still kinda jealous of my friends who have Switches, but eh - one day.
I just played a lot of Harvest Moon growing up, that's been my object of interest in my elementary days. The most of a horror game that I've been exposed to was watching my friends play Five Nights At Freddy's back in 5th grade.
Then high school happened, and I got new friends and shit - and was introduced to both more conventional horror games and Hetalia. Which is. A really weird combination when I think about it now, but everyone who was alive and kicking around in the early 2010's would know what HetaOni is, and you can see how that slope led to me playing freeware horror games. I'll always be grateful to these games, seeing as I never had easy access to mainstream experiences growing up.
I think I played HetaOni exactly once, on my first laptop. I played most Hetalia fangames exactly once, but they all just stayed on my old hard drive. None of them really had anything interesting going on gameplay-wise, I mean it's RPGMaker and these were people who just really wanted to make Hetalia fangames, but I remember some of them just sticking with me. I'd play them while I was away on trips to my grandmother's house, then watch let's plays on YouTube when I wasn't otherwise occupied with schoolwork. Really when I say Let's Plays I only mean KyoKoon64's - and that's how I was actually introduced to horror JRPGs.
CLOÉ'S REQUIEM
There's been a couple of times where they played some of the more recognizable horror JRPGs on their channel, but the first one I REALLY saw a playthrough on was one called Cloé's Requiem. I don't know what exactly it was about this specific game that stuck with me, and at the time I didn't know that this had like. More warnings than you would usually find on a horror JRPG. Calling it now, please look up said warnings before you try ANYTHING with this game - I can't promise quality and nuance, but I can promise great moments. Those moments stuck with me to this day, SOMEHOW, even after encountering games with better story and gameplay experiences… it's about a cursed 12 year-old boy trying to free a cursed 13 year-old girl, never getting a shot at the normal life he wanted and playing the violin because he can't do much else.
I think this game changed my life. Not in like, any grand manner mind you - but I feel like it's the game that best represented this time of my life as a weird high school outsider who obsesses over games that nobody's ever heard about. I was introduced to a lot of things through this game, it's just this whole volley of firsts that I wouldn't trade for anything else. Baby's first horror game, first jumpscare I ever consented to, first taste of games containing disturbing themes of sexual assault and gore, first trips to Pixiv and NicoNicoDouga - just all the fucking firsts. I wouldn't call it a great game, but it IS important to me.
When I think about it now, it's a game about curses. Michel D'Alembert is a talented violinist at 12, and his alcoholic father milks the shit out of this talent because they're not exactly what you would call well-off. His twin brother Pierre is a pianist, is nowhere near as talented as his brother, and hides his misery over this situation under a big-little brother façade. Cloé Ardennes is a pianist too, she's wealthy, talented, and still plays with her stuffed animals. She is cursed with an insane father who rapes her, and a mother who hates her. Charlotte is a young maid with nothing and tries her best, only to be killed because she happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. Unsurprisingly things fall apart for everybody very quickly.
Pierre's frustrations with his spoiled, lazy brother boiled over, and he curses Michel out in a heated moment. This drives Michel to murder their Charlotte by accident, and she becomes his curse - he runs out of the house, kills cats, and finds himself in the dilapidated mansion that Cloé inhabits. Cloé by this point is already dead, and so is her dad, her parents, and the maids. Cloé's father may be her curse but she is the curse of this mansion, and it transforms into something hostile until Michel comes along and saves her from the shadow of her father. Michel plays her a requiem, and resolves to go home to confront his crimes - and back to Pierre, who regrets everything he's done. Watching the sun rise with a disappearing Cloé in the True Ending will likely be the last peaceful moment he will ever have in his life.
That's like. Not everything that happens in this game, but this post is already so goddamn long and I still have a lot of other stuff I want to talk about. But the gist of it to me nowadays is that these children are cursed with loveless lives and the whims of the adults that have power over them. In the end, their lives are all ruined. Cloé and Charlotte are dead, and we have no idea what becomes of Michel and Pierre when word gets out that Michel killed a maid and assaulted several others in the house in a fit of emotional instability. In every other ending, Michel is killed and Cloé remains an evil spirit, so really this is the best that anyone ever gets out of this experience.
I remember watching a playthrough of Con Amore on YouTube, but I understood none of it because it was in Japanese, and the game itself was untranslated at the time. It follows the cats Noir and Blanc and basically serves as an addendum to the base game - honestly it made me feel sorry for Charlotte, who was nowhere near as psychotic as Michel thought she was. There's also light novels, but international shipping is expensive and I don't know Japanese so. I'll just never figure out what happens to everyone after the game ends I guess
One of these days, I'll buy the remake on Steam - which exists, and I can't say I recommend it if everything I just listed bothers you in any way. But I can't shake the attachment I feel towards this game no matter how many years it's been, nor how uncomfortable its themes are, so you know - maybe one day. I'll go back to it.
IB
So - following that, I got pretty curious about the other games in this genre of freeware horror. Ib is the one that everyone knows the best, both Markiplier and Pewdiepie played it so you KNOW it gets press, but even in Japan this game was a hell of a hit. To me, it's a simple game that I can finish in an hour, but man what an hour it can be.
If you were to play this game right now after seeing how much press it gets (which I think you should, it's on the Switch now! Go get it!), you MIGHT be a little disappointed. It's nowhere near as gory or disturbing as Cloe's Requiem for one and you know - a bunch of blood and guts and ghosts on the walls does not a good horror game make, but make your choices accordingly. Nah - instead this game's staying power lies in its atmosphere. Like how many games can you say take place inside of an art gallery where most of the pieces try to fucking murder you? I mean there's probably a lot, but something about Ib's almost ambient sense of dread and exploration just kind of sticks in people's brains. Everything's a little scarier when the shapes are so close to being discernable but aren't, and I guess that's the appeal and horror behind Guertena's gallery.
Ib herself is a mute protagonist, pretty typical, but she's also NINE, and the game will let you know that no matter how unfazed she gets or how precocious she can be, she is a child all the same - and children break very easily. I personally love how the game barely has to say anything about how shaken she actually is about her situation, because it will show you how - she has nightmares that you can't escape, she sees herself getting hanged, Garry will need to shake her out of her shock when she sees a picture of her parents in the gallery that should not exist. She loses all of her will to live when she loses Garry to insanity. And speaking of Garry…
There's one standout room in this game and it's the Doll Room. 10/10 would NOT recommend it to anyone who suffers from anxiety because WOW I did not think the RPG Maker 2000 engine could ever have been capable of that. Nobody blames Garry if this room fucks him up. I mean come on the dude has to literally rip open the stomachs of dolls to find a paint ball. Those sound effects make it sound like the dolls are made of skin and flesh and all the while the giant fucking doll is creeping out of the goddamn painting while some of the most anxiety-inducing background noise is playing -
Yeah no I don't know why I ever said you'd be disappointed by this game. Or maybe you still would, this is a low-res game made in 2012. But my god does it TRY to scare you in the best ways it can.
One of the best moments in this game I think is the one where Mary and Ib are alone together, and the conversation gets increasingly unhinged with Mary asking Ib questions non-stop with no background noise other than their steps. At this point, they're separated from Garry, and they're trying to find a way back to each other. Garry meanwhile is slowly piecing together the truth about Mary and how dangerous it is for Ib to remain alone with her, all the while still trying to figure out how to get back to both of them.
The section after that is in the Sketchbook which honestly? The vibes of this place are impeccable. Somehow it's fitting that one of the tensest areas in a game about a fine arts gallery is the place made entirely out of childlike scribbles.
Overall, I'd say the experience is well worth an hour or two - I'd recommend it happily over Cloé's Requiem, if only so you can have a taste of what Horror JRPGs were like before Omori came along. Yes I know that Omori isn't Japanese but it's very much in the same vein as these games.
OTHER GAMES
Those were the safe two that planted my feet firmly into the Horror JRPG fandom, but there's a lot of other titles out there, so let's go - lightning round!
Ao Oni is the ubiquitous one, like chances are you've at least HEARD of it in passing at some point in your life. Like this shit made it to the big screen in Japan, that's how much of a deal it was. I've never played the original myself, but it's partly because its formula of stuck in a mansion with a horror that chases you around is present in pretty much every Horror JRPG after its release in 2007. If you want some classic fun with the big blue demon though then you can't go wrong with the freeware version.
Mad Father and The Witch's House are part of what I like to call the Big 3 of JRPGs starring preteen girls experiencing the Horrors™, mostly because back in the mid-2010's I couldn't go three posts without seeing them all together. Mad Father is the only other one of said Big 3 that I've touched, because I was too coward to touch The Witch's House and Ellen's whole deal remains a mystery to me to this day. I think Mad Father got a remake a couple of years ago, so you can check that out if you want, but keep in mind that these two games in particular might not stoke the same kind of magical staying power that Ib somehow retained years after its release, and I know those two rely on jumpscares a lot more than Ib does.
I'll eat my fedora right here by the way, because one of my cardinal sins of being a Horror JRPG fan is that I've never played Yume Nikki. As far as these freeware games go, this is probably one of the more avant-garde ones - it's artsy, atmospheric, and a game best experienced by getting lost in the strange environments it provides. Out of every game on this post, this is the one I'd describe as the most Earthbound-esque, with its horror lying mostly in the surrealist ambience of just… wandering around in Madotsuki's mind. The end is just as quiet as the beginning, but is no less chilling to watch happen. Then you fuck around a little bit on Youtube and you find out what's actually going on, and uh - yeah that checks out, cosmic horror sounds par for the course at this point.
Yume Nikki and OFF are two of the games I think of when I hear about Horror JRPGs being talked about alongside Undertale - and nope, I haven't played OFF either. That's my other Horror JRPG sin. I was a picky teenager, but I've grown now and wow I need to find a time to play these games in peace. OFF actually isn't even Japanese, it was developed by Mortis Ghost and released in French back in 2008, making both pretty old and already pretty weird in the library. The reason I bring up OFF is because it's one of the older examples I know of that also incorporate Earthbound's precision 4th-wall breaks, and that it's a game about judgment and interrogates the player (more you than the Batter you play as, serving more as a vehicle that the game uses to ask questions through) about the choices they make in the game. OneShot is probably the one game in this genre of indie RPG that I know so far that employs this metaphysical idea of the player existing in the game in any kind of charitable fashion (aside from again, Earthbound and to some extent Mother 3), so between it, OFF, and Undertale they're what I'd refer to as the Interface Screw-RPG Trio.
Some other titles that I like are between the same devs, even some that I haven't really played to completion. Cloé's Requiem for example was made by Buriki Clock, and they've made other titles like Fantasy Maiden's Off Hideout and Trauma Traum - the latter I can't play because it doesn't have an English translation rip. Miwashiba is another dev which I think people who have a taste for light lolita goth-pastel colors would like, because my god the character designs in both Alice Mare and LiEat are peak. Don't even get me started on the fashion of 1BitHeart because everything in that game has such an impeccable aesthetic. I think I saw something at one point about 1BitHeart that like. Might count as a shared joke between Xenoblade fans, but I'd be hard-pressed to give context because again… packed schedule, who dis?
Just to talk about Alice Mare a little more, I've actually played this one - it sports a heavily storybook-inspired cast with some unique tastes on the tales. Most of my actual experiences with Alice Mare were from the English Light Novel, which I do still have! I really recommend it to people who have a couple of hours to spare on some light, relatively bloodless horror. Most of these games have Light Novels, come to think of it - hell Ib even has whole audio dramas, one of which was fanmade in English, and from what I remember of it the voice acting for Mary was PEAK.
One last dev I want to talk about is Segawa. I've saved them for last because their brand of horror is reserved mainly for one game, but their other games Farethere City and Tower of Hanoi are no slouches either. I don't know much about Tower of Hanoi (or if it even has an English translation right now), but Farethere City is a pretty cute experience as far as pseudo-horror games go from what I've heard, which is probably good for us because their other standout game is anything but cute.
END ROLL
Ah, End Roll. The last of the Horror JRPGs I've played before school kicked me even harder in the shins and I had barely any time for it. Out of all the games I mentioned on this list, this is the one with the most staying power in my brain - and also the one that influenced me the most.
So, I don't talk a lot about my original works. Nobody asks, so I don't overshare. But some of the prevalent overarching themes of my personal mythos are those of guilt, self-love, and the burdens of love. All of these themes were lifted directly from End Roll - which is to say, End Roll actually only deals in guilt, my brain just ran buckwild with trying to wrap itself around the logistics behind InfoRuss. One of my main protagonists, Rosso, is a dead-ringer expy of Russell - the same goes for Blanco with the Informant. One of the only ways I can describe Rosso and Blanco's relationship is 'selfcest as a metaphor for the painful coexistence of self-love and self-loathing', and how this relationship reached this point was largely thanks to the Informant and his role in Russell's dream.
I don't really know why I've come to associate the idea of self-love with guilt, because that's like. Not what the game is trying to do. The game's express purpose is to tell you the story of a boy who comes to love his victims and self-destructs under the crushing guilt that he carries from killing them. By some weird hand, I've fixated on the Informant and his determination in seeing that mission of the game through - AND his secret boss fight. Actually, I should. Go ahead and describe the build-up to his secret boss fight
You can only access it if you've purchased the optional villa, and if I recall correctly you can only fight him on the last day of the dream. The locked shed next to the villa is revealed to be a library of some kind called the Graveyard of Books and like - sure enough, there's books of every kind just torn apart and scattered about everywhere. The reason for all of this is because of the Informant's jealousy. He is created specifically so he can provide Russell with the necessary information to complete the Happy Dream Experiment, and in this regard he thinks Russell doesn't need anyone other source of information than him. So he does away with the useless other books, except for the strategy guides because that's the only kind of book Russell likes - and thus, the only kind of book that the Informant likes. Notes are scattered in the hallway leading up into his boss room, with the last one sticking out in my mind to this day:
'He thinks he's the most important thing to you.'
Which. I don't know why that line is so important to me. Whether it be because it awakened something weird in me, or because I myself was dealing with my self-loathing in a VERY complicated manner at the time, that line has gone on to dictate the way that I write about my characters even to this day.
It's such a visceral depiction of self-inflicted brutality. Russell Seager is a 14 year-old serial killer who grew up loveless and abused, and has no shortage of things that make every waking moment of his life fucked up. He killed people - some who just happened to be wherever he was at the time, some willingly by his hand - could not feel guilt about any of it, and when he lost Yumi to his drunken father while his nymphomaniac mother watched he snapped and killed both his tormentors. He then turned himself in to the police, a teen on death row. Happy Dream is him discovering guilt through dream versions of the people he killed. Happy Dream is what allows him to manifest the newfound emotions he felt through interacting with the kinds of people that his victims COULD have been. The world he creates morphs into the self-inflicted hell that is his guilt.
Russell has no happy ending, his guilt won't allow him that. Everything around him becomes a reminder of the lives he's destroyed, and how much of a living hell his own life was. Through feeling happiness and love from these fabricated visages of the people he killed, he learned guilt. It's such a weird exercise in sympathy, knowing that you're playing as this remorseless kid going through rehabilitation through extreme means. It either doesn't work, and he's deemed a failure - or it does, and he commits suicide either by confessing his crimes to one of his victims and stabbing himself to death with a syringe, or he stays in the deteriorating dream, never to wake up again.
At some point it honestly just turns into misery porn, if you look at it from a certain angle - this game is set on having Russell die no matter what. I couldn't tell you what EXACTLY it is about this experience was so impactful that it would go on to influence the way I want to spend my life - that is, I want to make games exploring these kinds of themes. Guilt. Sins. If loveless lives can be redeemed and made better. By the time the last day in the game rolls around, it's just a matter of giving Russell closure over his miserable life and choosing for him what his last freedom is going to be.
I think one of the reasons I like thinking about the Informant with regards to Russell is the scene that happens if you choose to go through with the first True Ending. Russell never really much liked the Informant, and the feeling is mutual. Russell is cold to him, and the Informant takes every opportunity he can to rub all of Russell's sins in his face - and that's his job, he represents the fundamental, uncomfortable truths of Happy Dream. If Russell chooses not to leave the dream, he is resigned to its destruction and waits for the inevitable along with the other denizens of Nameless Town. But if Russell chooses to get out of the dream, the Informant returns to Russell in tears, happy that he can finally be back to being a part of him - to this game, it's the ultimate acceptance. Russell then goes on to confess his crimes and the reality of the dream to one of the citizens, and he wakes up when they kill him in tearful retribution by his request.
He grabs the syringe next to his bed, and stabs himself to death, unable to handle the guilt. That's how the game always ends for me. The Informant succeeded, Happy Dream succeeded - and Russell chose to die as person who could finally feel remorse.
It's a regretful story with themes that really shouldn't be replicated in any fashion in real life, but somehow I found it fascinating in the way it explores the facets of the self. It makes me want to ask more questions and explore that angle of self-reflection to the furthest extremes that I can conceivably reach, and I guess that's one of the many reasons why I respect it so much.
SO… WHAT NOW.
Nah, that's kind of it. Like, OF COURSE this isn't all I have to say about the games that I mentioned, but wow this post is so long and I was just pining for the days of a couple of years ago. These games were present for the most transformative years of my life, and uh - whether or not that was actually a good thing remains to be seen, but I'll always be grateful for their presence in the void that I call my gaming experiences.
Horror JRPGs will always have a special place in my heart for how they tell their stories. Nowadays, I've developed more of a taste for fantastical RPGs that prefer to hide their horror in the margins of the narrative, fridging the terror for when the player wants to step back a bit and think about the implications of certain events in the greater world. Undertale, OneShot, and the Octopath Traveler games all tick that box for me - and all of those games are ones I hold dear. Like I'll probably ramble about OneShot some other day, because that's the other game that really changed my life in a way I felt like I can never come back from - but there's just a lot of special things to be said about these neat little self-contained, 6-hour freeware games. For now I'll close this long-ass post out. Happy late Halloween I guess - the M&Ms in our fridge have never tasted better.
#rpg maker horror#rpg maker#horror rpg#ib rpg#cloe's requiem#end roll rpg#ao oni#mad father#the witch's house#OFF rpg#yume nikki#alice mare#farethere city#cw horror#seriously please read the content warnings
33 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hi there :)
I'm the anon that put in the request for a non-con Colby Brock fic. As for the premise I'm leaving it all up to you and your comfort levels with the subject matter.
Thank you so much for responding and even considering writing it <3
Hope you have a lovely day <3
3rd persons pov
It’s currently a Friday night, leaving Sam and Colby stressing on what to film. They constantly get requests, but this weekend is the first weekend in months that they have with their friends. They’ve been traveling a lot lately.
Y/n isn’t new to the group, but she’s barely around. She and Colby used to talk, but that ended quickly. It didn’t even take them a month to break whatever they had, up. Colby was too obsessed and overprotective.
She’s currently sitting on the couch with the group, laughing and talking about how scary the place is that they’re going to explore tonight.
Y/n’s a very forgiving person, and this is why she’s sitting next to Colby. Sometimes they still seem like they’re dating, but they’re not. They just had so much chemistry together that it’s hard to stay friends.
When they do argue though, things go sideways. He usually makes a big deal in private so people won’t see him for what he really is but in public, they just make smart comments about each other.
Y/n hasn’t talked to Sam about the way Colby acts, no matter how many times Sam asks her. They’ve been best friends for too long for them both to argue over someone Colby has known for only a couple of years.
“Hide in seek at an abandoned mall?” Sam asked the group. They’re just naming things to do for his and Colby’s YouTube channel. “Yeah, sound good honestly,” Kevin said as the others agreed.
The group got up and began to put their shoes on. Colby would glance at y/n every once in a while, as she was busy talking to Tara.
Colby can’t seem to get her out of his head. He’s still angry at her for leaving him, just because he was trying to make her better for him.
Why would a boyfriend want his girlfriend out all night at a house party? Why does a boyfriend want his girlfriend to have close boyfriends? He can’t stand her around any dude. All of their argument involved another man.
“Hey, y/n? Could I, uh, barrow to you for a second?” Colby asked as he walked up to her and Tara. “Of course,” she smiled and walked off with Colby to the kitchen in his shared house.
“So, uh, who will you be partnered with while me and Sam seek?” He asked. “No one, actually. I like doing things alone, but I’ll be close to others maybe,” she said, making Colby bite down on his lips.
He’s been trying his best to keep himself from being his old self, but it’s hard for y/n. Why the fuck would she walk around an abandoned mall by herself?
“Don’t you think that’s dangerous?” Colby asked. “Yeah, but we’re all doing it. Plus we won’t be too far from each other,” she said. “Yeah, but you’ll still be alone. Like, that’s not safe,” Colby said.
“I know, Colby, but I got myself, okay? Plus Max might hide with me,” y/n said low, not wanting to make this a big deal. “Oh, so you’re dating again?” Colby asked, sounding angry.
“So what if I am? We’re too old to be holding in something that clearly couldn’t work in any way possible,” y/n said as Colby chuckled, trying to keep himself calm.
“You’re very bold for saying that,” he said. “Bold? This has nothing to do with being bold. We simply just can’t work out,” y/n said. “Well maybe if you weren’t so thoughtless, we could have,” Colby fired back.
“Thoughtless? No, what’s thoughtless is you being insecure then trying to make me feel bad for shit I didn’t even know you didn’t like. You couldn’t even be an adult and ask me to do better. You demanded me, and I don’t do that shit,” y/n began to get angry.
“Well you should have, and maybe you wouldn’t be running around trying to find someone like me,” Colby started getting cocky. “I’m definitely not trying to find another you. I’m searching hard for the complete opposite,” Y/n said.
Y/n rolled her eyes as she took a couple of steps out of the kitchen, but was yanked back by her arm by Colby. She went to tell him to stop, and that it hurt, but he pushed her up against the wall and gripped her neck tightly.
“You’ll never find anyone better than me, y/n. Never! So I’d advise you to drop this I’ve moved on act, and come back to me with an apology,” Colby said as y/n gasped for air.
“Don’t make me wait any longer,” Colby said before letting her neck go and walking off. Y/n coughed as a few tears ran down her cheek. This is why they can’t be together.
“Holly shit, where are you guys!?” Y/n heard Sam yell in the mall as him and Colby were searching to find everyone. They have 12 people to find, which won’t be so easy. Y/n’s off alone since Max wanted to hide somewhere scarier. She wanted to stay in the light.
Walking around an abandoned mall is pretty scary, yet very nice and lovely.
It’s true what Colby said though. Y/n shouldn’t be alone, but who is he to try and keep her safe? He’s so ignorant. Y/n loves Colby but there are too many things off about him.
Y/n walked along the lights, staring at all the art painted on these run-down walls as everyone’s probably scared in the dark. She laughed to herself, knowing she could never sit in the dark for an hour and wait for someone to find her.
“It’s pretty dangerous up here,” y/n turned around quickly at the familiar voice. “Bro, what the fuck, Colby,” y/n said, actually feeling her heart rise faster than it has ever gotten.
“I told you, yet you still fucking did it,” Colby shook his head. “You know,” Colby scoffed, seeming angry already, which she knows doesn’t take him long. “That’s why we never worked out,” Colby said, causing y/n to take a deep breath, already annoyed with him.
“Because you’re so damn full of yourself. You never fucking listen and you make sure to do things to fuck with me. Is that why you’re ducking around with Max?” Colby asked.
“Colby, that’s none of your business,” Y/n said as he slowly started walking towards her. “Yes, it is. You’re my business, y/n, so answer the fucking question. Are you fucking with Max to get back at me?” Colby asked.
“You guys don’t even talk. So what would that even bother you?” Y/n asked. He’s not a step away from her. “Because we’re not done,” he said. “Yes, we are, Colby,” Y/n said, which she shouldn’t have.
Next thing she knew, Colby’s hand was around her neck and she was pulled around a corner and slammed into a wall. Colby pressed his body against her so she couldn’t go anywhere.
“You just don’t understand, don’t you?” Colby asked as he unzipped his pants. “Colby, stop it! Let me go!” She tried saying loudly but the grip on her neck wouldn’t let her.
“The moment you gave me a chance was the moment you became mine no matter what. So that I broke up with you shit, doesn’t me dick to me,” Colby growled in her ear.
Colby pulled y/n off of the wall and then detached his hand from her neck, just to connect them through her hair and push her down to the floor. Now she’s on her knees, trying to make him let her go, but he won’t.
“It’s time to put you back where you belong,” Colby said, seconds before forcing his cock down her throat. She’s done this a lot. Even when he used to force himself in her mouth, it was never in a situation like this.
She began bagging and tearing up and he groaned and fucked her face. “Fucking hell, y/‘n. You still suck cock perfectly,” he said as she struggled to keep her eyes open.
“Just like old times when you loved being stuffed. But now you’re a little stuck-up bitch, and forcing me to do this,” he fake pouted before slamming balls deep into her mouth.
“Fuck,” he groaned as he used his free hand to grab the side of her face. He pushed her head back, causing her to be pinned against the wall as he used her mouth for pleasure and punishment.
Y/n’s been crying, hating herself for even meeting Colby. She should have never given him a chance. Who knew he would have ended up like this with her? He just seemed too sweet, but in actuality, he’s a fucking monster.
“You take me so well, baby. If only you listened, I would be going easy on you,” Colby looked into the poor girl's eyes as his thrust got sloppy and he eventually came into her mouth with a loud groan.
Colby pushed Y/n off of him, causing her to fall to the ground. He fixed himself up and then quickly pulled her to her feet by her hair as she whined.
“This was a warning,” Colby said. He looked at her glazed lips as he hit his own. She doesn’t know how perfect she is for him. “I caught you!” Colby yelled loudly to make it seem like he found y/n.
“Act normal or we’ll have a problem,” Colby threatened before letting her go and walking away. She walked with him, wanting to get this game over with and go home.
One month later
“Don’t fucking touch me, Colby. You’ve already gone too far,” y/n said as she yanked her hand away from him at the bottom of the steps.
Sam had asked her to come over for another friend group video. After they were done, everyone decided to stay around and talk with loud music and drink.
Colby of course found a way to get her alone in the kitchen and talk to her. It started off nice, but he could tell y/n was a bit off. “Have you been drinking,” was all he had to say to set her off.
That’s when she inevitably stormed to the stairs to go to the guest room Sam had told her she could stay in since she’s the only friend who doesn’t live as close as the others.
Y/n stormed upstairs with Colby right behind her. “Don’t start this shit, y/n. You’ve already pissed me off with that drinking shit,” he said as she scoffed. “As if you don’t drink daily,” she replied.
That was when Colby sped over towards her as her back was still turned and grabbed her hair. “Colby-“ y/n tried yelling but he covered her mouth and pushed her into the guest room she was walking to.
“You just keep fucking testing me,” Colby angrily said as he shut the door and locked it. “You Know that I stand on business, so why do you continue to do this shit? Get rid of the damn attitude!” He demanded as I backed up.
“You’re sick, Colby, do you know that? Do you really expect me to want you after what you made me do!?” Y/n genuinely asked. Colby has lost it, but he doesn’t care. He needs her.
“I’m not sick. I just need you,” he said as he stepped towards her. She kept backing up until she hit a bed. Now her stomach sank to the ground. She knows what he did last time, and now that theirs a bed in here, he can do more.
“Help-“ y/n yelled for help but she was quickly cut off by Colby’s hand. They wouldn’t be able to hear her anyway with Sam’s loud music playing downstairs, and Colby knows that. But the thought of manhandling her always crosses his mind, and he can’t help but do it.
“Shut the fuck up,” he growled at her as he used his free hand to yank at her spaghetti-strapped crop until it ripped off of her body. “No!” Her yell was muffled as he continued by forcing her shorts down until they were off.
“Stop! Stop!” She yelled, but this only angered him more. “You use to love this shit,” Colby said as he pulled his sweats down as well as his boxers. He’s always been too big when they had sex, and now that he’ll be rough, she doesn’t know if she can take it.
“You missed me?” Colby asked, rubbing his leaking tip around her clit. He knows he fucking misses her. He can’t go a day without emptying a load because of her. He’s punished him for too long.
“No-“ y/n went to deny but Colby forced his way into her without warning. He pushed until he was fully in her, filling her up with so much cock, she could barely beg him to stop.
“You’re always so fucking wet,” Colby groaned as he leaned down, inches away from her face, and proceeded to thrust slowly in and out of her cunt. He let her mouth go just to hear her whine and cry.
“Please stop this,” she begged, eyes watering and breath quickening. “No,” he thrust into her hard, causing her to yelp. He continued until he had a nice rhythm and paste.
“All this time you made me wear a condom to hide these wet masterpieces. Just for that, I’m going to fill you up until you’re leaking all night,” he threatened as she cried.
Colby licked her tears then began sucking at her neck, making sure to mark her as his. “Once we’re done here, you’re going to have a good ole sleep right next to me, so you understand?” He asked, but she didn’t respond. She kept crying. “Good,” he said, keeping his paste strong.
#18+#18+ content#18+ fic#18+ minors dni#18+ only#18+ post#smut#colby brock#sam and colby#dark!colby brock#cnc k!nk#rough cnc#rough kink#roughfuck
29 notes
·
View notes
Text
The World Will Only Darken Without Candlelight - Chapter 1
The Fox and the Bird
Zelda thinks she’s in for a disappointing summer after she learns that she’s failed to get the highly competitive internship she wanted. That means she has to come back home…back to her father’s renaissance faire to be Princess Zelda for yet another year in a row. Only this year isn’t like all the rest, especially not with this weird new knight who's always following her around.
It’s a bird. It’s a plane. It’s a Hallmark Channel movie. It’s an episode of Scooby Doo. It’s a modern retelling of Breath of the Wild, but one where everyone works at a kinda shitty renaissance faire.
AKA, in which I fuck up again and start writing a new longfic for a fandom I don't normally write for. Oh, and it's another crackpot modern AU. This will also eventually be Zelink, because I can’t help myself after ToTK.
7040 Words
Read it on Ao3!
Shall we stay inside our shells,
As the reaper takes his prey?
The world will only darken without candlelight.
With you I think I’ll try to get to the other side.
“Purah please. If you’re going to ask me all these questions, can you at least turn the music down?”
Red eyes peered at Zelda over the red rims of her ridiculous glasses. And not at the road. Definitely not at the road.
“Please?” she continued to plead. “And watch the road?”
“University made you so boring,” Purah sighed as she relented, fulfilling both requests by turning down the throbbing bass of her beloved EDM down and looking back to the road just in time to honk at the car in front of her that she’d almost rear-ended.
“I’ve always been rather boring, thank you,” Zelda said in her defense. “And while I appreciate you coming to pick me up, I was hoping to make it home alive.”
“Uh, bad news about that,” Purah said, biting her lip hard enough that Zelda could see it beyond the red streak in her otherwise snow white hair.
“Don’t tell me--”
“--Too late for that,” Purah conceded. “Daddy dearest wants me to bring you straight to rehearsal.”
Zelda groaned, then immediately let out a yelp of surprise as she held onto the handle above Purah’s passenger seat for dear life. Purah was swerving across three lanes of the highway to make the correct exit to get to the castle, and she was making it everyone’s problem.
The castle where Zelda’s father played King over his renaissance festival every summer, and she had been his little Princess Zelda for as long as she could remember. The ruined castle he’d somehow managed to purchase from the historical society decades ago, and had made it his life’s goal to turn into a venue for the ultimate renaissance faire. The best in Central Hyrule, so the newspaper ads always claimed. Really, it was always a sort of thrown together thing, with far more dramatics than polish.
Still, it was good fun, but definitely not how she planned to spend this summer in particular. Not how she had planned to spend any more of her summers ever again, if she could help it.
“He can’t just give me one afternoon?” she asked, even as Purah and her erratic driving had already made the decision for her.
Purah responded to that with as much of a shrug as she could manage while driving. “Apparently not. You know how he gets during the week before.”
“You know he told me he was going to pick me up from the airport? I bet he never had any intention of doing so,” Zelda noted, hugging the backpack that there wasn’t any room for in the trunk close to her chest.
“I, well, uh, I can’t say for certain,” Purah offered to that with a shrug. “He seemed in a hurry when he asked me, so at least I don’t think he planned that. He’s all in a tizzy about this new version of the Champions’ Tournament they’re doing.”
“Urbosa told me about that,” Zelda chimed in. “She said dad hired some new kid who’s really good. But that’s odd Purah, don’t you think? He doesn’t hire new people, especially not to be knights.”
“I mean, he is really good, that new guy,” Purah confirmed and began swinging an invisible sword across the dashboard. “Weird, but good.”
“Purah, no offense meant, but anyone who wants to work at a renaissance faire is weird.”
Purah, with her red-streak in her white hair, obnoxious glasses, little red hatchback that had more bumper stickers than bumper and a trunk so full of cables and costume parts that there was barely room for Zelda’s suitcases in it, just shrugged off this offense.
She’d worked for the faire since before she probably legally should have. This year would no doubt be the same as any other, with her taking charge of getting all the technology up and running--from speakers and lights down to the registers up at the ticket stands and food stalls--but also somehow finding time to create and manage an inventory of increasingly elaborate costumes for the cast. In fact, there had been no room in the backseat for Zelda’s suitcases either, because there was an entire Lynel costume in various states of completion stored there.
Purah shrugged, then offered a biting response, “Not as weird as people born into renaissance faire royalty.”
“Like I’d choose this,” Zelda sighed.
“Speaking of choices, I don’t get it,” Purah said as she turned onto one of Castle Town’s main thoroughfares, honking through her pause at the unfortunate soul who was going too slow in front of her. “I’m assuming you’re here because you didn’t get that internship. Besides me, of course, and maybe Robbie, you’re literally the smartest person I know. Why didn’t they give it to you?”
“I…don’t really know.”
It was an honest statement, maybe the most honest Zelda had been with both Purah and herself since getting into this car.
The director of the internship program had all but assured her that this last round of reviews was a formality. She was a shoe-in, what with her impressive academic credentials and the fact that she aced both rounds of interviews. But the email had come a week before the end of this last semester, saying she had been rejected in favor of more qualified candidates.
Who in all of Hyrule was more qualified than her? She’d worked her entire life to get into this field, with the goal of working for this very program. She’d studied and studied, filled her first three years at Hateno University with an insane course load that would make just about any other student break down into tears. Nevermind that she’d let those tears get the best of her sometimes, but never where anyone could see.
Though she certainly wasn’t proud to admit it, more than a few of those tears were shed that day she got the email. Zelda honestly didn’t remember much of that afternoon. She didn’t want to. She only knew that she managed to call her father in the evening, and he’d booked her a flight home.
Home. Was Castle Town really home anymore? Did she want it to be?
She shook her head to herself, lest she start spiraling in Purah’s car. The passenger’s seat of a cluttered hybrid, with still thrumming bass vibrating her bones, was not exactly the best place for a mental breakdown.
Plus, Zelda had promised herself she wasn’t going to do this. She was just going to have a normal summer. Well, as normal a summer as she could have, working at the renaissance faire yet again.
“You not having anything else to say about it speaks volumes, chatterbox,” Purah noted. “I’m sure your dad didn’t tell you this, so someone’s gotta. You know that you not getting this internship isn’t the end of the world, right? You’re still here. Everything’s gonna be okay.”
She reached out to squeeze Zelda’s arm, mostly missing and squeezing her backpack instead, with only two fingers making actual contact with the skin just beneath the sleeve of her blue and white blouse.
“I appreciate it Purah, but I’m fine,” Zelda assured her, back to lying again.
“You’re not fine. You’re almost as quiet as the new guy. And he doesn’t talk,” Purah told her.
“At all?”
Purah shook her head. “Nope. Or at least I’ve never heard him talk. Presumably he can. I know your dad interviewed him somehow. But that’s the whole schtick they’re using for him: The Silent Knight. He either just isn’t chatty to an extreme degree or very committed to the character.”
Zelda sighed, finding herself looking out the window as the city made way, buildings and busy streets alike seeming to step aside, opening up to a view of the ruined castle on the hill.
“It sounds like he fits right in with the rest of the Champions.”
“Revali hates him,” Purah stated.
“Revali hates everyone,” was Zelda’s immediate response.
“That’s very true. But Revali especially hates him because he’s this year’s winner,” Purah pointed out.
“You’re telling me that my father hired some new guy for the Champions’ Tournament, and that he’s making him the winner this year? Purah, you’ve got to be joking,” Zelda said, finally letting go of her vice grip on her backpack to turn fully toward Purah, or as much her seatbelt would allow.
While there had always been a bit of a revolving door of cast members in the Champions’ Tournament--the nightly knight show of jousting and stage combat that had been both the centerpiece and grand finale of every faire day--the honor of “winning” the scripted tournament was passed between her father’s four long-time knights. Mipha would win on feats of grace and compassion or from her deft skills with the spear. Cocky Revali would be handed a scenario where only his superior aim and archery knowledge could pull ahead of the other competitors. Daruk would impress the crowds with his raw strength. Urbosa arguably had the most skill with one on one sword and shield combat of all of them, and would get to show off for her win with a dramatic duel.
But never in the history of the faire had anyone else been allowed to win the scripted tournament.
“Look, I’m as surprised as you are, but I think it’ll be a fun change of pace. Maybe that old coot realized he’s gotta make some changes to keep people coming back year after year,” Purah offered with a shrug.
“That doesn’t sound like my father,” Zelda said, turning back to the view of the castle as the colorful banners and bunting that decorated the ruins joined the picture.
They always dressed the place up nice. She had to admit that. Nevermind that it should have remained in the hands of the historical society to be studied, and not made a spectacle of. But Zelda couldn’t really blame her father, or any of the others who made this faire possible every year. She supposed that was a good enough use of the ruins anyway--celebrating the past, when they were once grand and glorious and not crumbling away brick by brick, year by year.
“I guess he knew this kid’s dad?” Purah continued on. “That probably has something to do with it. He apparently was a knight way back. Maybe you’d remember him?”
“We’ve had so many knights, or at least so many strangers I’ve found passed out on my living room couch one morning and had dad explain to me that they were working for him now,” Zelda told her. “I doubt I’d remember which one of those he was.”
“You should write a book about it. Or get therapy. One or the other,” Purah offered.
“Believe me, I’ve thought about both.”
“There she is. I’ve been missing old sassy Princess Zelda,” Purah said with a grin.
Zelda didn’t bother to stifle the groan that followed. “Please don’t start with the princess stuff. I’m not ready for it.”
“I’m afraid it’s too late for that,” Purah told her as she pointed to the road, and the fact that they were about to turn into the staff parking lot. “Because we’re here.”
“Shit.”
Zelda was really hoping for at least a day or two of some sort of reprieve. Some time to rot in her childhood bedroom. Well, that was still full of princess-themed decorations and accessories as well, so perhaps it wouldn’t have helped. Maybe she should have just stayed in Hateno--found a summer sublease or something, gotten a shitty summer job that didn’t involve wearing a tiara every day.
But Purah was right. It was too late. She was already here.
“Time to put on your crown, princess,” Purah said with far too much excitement as she turned off into the gravel parking lot at the back of the ruined castle.
---
“Oh good, you’re here.”
These were the first words the man known as “King” Rhoam Bosphoramus Hyrule had to say to his daughter. His daughter, who had just faced the biggest disappointment in her twenty-one years of life. His one and only daughter, who had come home in hopes of finding some comfort.
“You were going to pick me up,” Zelda reminded him.
“Sorry, princess. Things are very busy here,” Rhoam said as he gestured to the dusty tournament grounds. “I don’t know if Purah told you, but your old man had the bright idea to change the Champions’ Tournament around, so we’ve been stuck in rehearsal for the last week. But things are looking better. Even better now that you’re here to learn your part.”
“Don’t tell me you changed that too?” Zelda wondered.
She’d been doing the same bit since she was a teenager. She could probably recite it verbatim right there and now. In fact, she thought about texting her roommate back at Hateno University to ask if she did the entire scene in her sleep. There was a decent chance she did.
“Just a little,” Rhoam assured her with a wave of his massive hands. Zelda wasn’t sure how she turned out as small as she was, with this giant of a man being her father. “You still do the whole giving them the blessing thing, presenting them with their cloth. We made Link’s a tunic, so I don’t know how we’re gonna have him put it on without there being a big awkward pause for him to do so, but we’ll figure it out.”
“Who is Link?” Zelda asked, though she could already guess it was the new knight, she still wanted her father’s version of the answer.
“Oh right, you haven’t met Link. Well, I don’t know if you remember, but you did when you were little. His dad was one of our knights back in--”
“Father, there were so many of them. I can guarantee you that I don’t remember,” Zelda cut him off, lest he go on an entire journey through the last twenty years of the faire’s history.
“Eh, you were little,” Rhoam offered as an excuse. He scanned the tournament grounds over Zelda’s head, looking for something. “As was he. But he remembers you. Where is that boy anyway? Daruk! Where is Link? We’re starting up again in a minute!”
The massive boulder of a Goron on the field shrugged his answer and kept hammering at an actual boulder, no doubt practicing the same old trick he always did, where he’d break the rock to the raucous cheers of the crowd.
“He’ll turn up,” Rhoam said, turning back to his daughter. “He’s a good lad. Very responsible, at least when he isn’t wandering off to Hylia knows where.”
Zelda found herself scanning the grounds for anyone unfamiliar, but she knew most of the faces scurrying around the arena. Mipha was over watering the horses. Revali was very loudly explaining how great he was to some poor stagehand who also looked vaguely familiar. Urbosa was absent at the moment, and honestly had been the first person Zelda looked for. Purah had joined her sister, the slightly more serious Impa, who acted as the stage manager for most of the faire’s various performances.
“I’m sure he’s great,” Zelda offered. “I was hoping to talk to you before we went straight into the faire, though.”
“About the internship?” Rhoam questioned.
“I don’t know, dad. Maybe you could tell me that it’s going to be fine? That I’ll have another chance in the fall? That just doing my best is good enough?” Zelda asked of him, finding her hands balling into fists she went on.
Truth be told, he’d only offered her his disappointment so far. Just general displeasure and a plane ticket home.
His exact words on that fateful phone call had been, “Well, at least I can have you work the faire again.”
“I…I thought for sure you were getting it,” Rhoam offered. “Your mother was in the same program. Did you tell them that?”
“I’m not her!” Zelda nearly shouted, only holding back due to the openness of the royal box on the grandstand where they stood and the fact that there were at least a dozen people and five horses on the grounds. Zelda swallowed the last word like a bitter pill. This was the same battle she’d been fighting since she was six years old. Since her mother died. “Even if I was, I doubt that would change anything. I didn’t make it. I did everything I could and it wasn’t enough.”
“Well, you’ll just have to apply again in the fall,” Rhoam said, sticking to his guns. “I know you have it in you, princess. I was hoping you wouldn’t have to miss a regular semester for it, but hey, shit happens.”
“Shit does indeed happen,” Zelda told him, knuckles so tight now they were going numb. “I don’t know why I bothered asking what you thought. You’ve already made yourself clear.”
“I’m just worried about your career options, not to mention medical school,” Rhoam told her. “Money doesn’t grow on trees, Zelda. You need to be good scholarship material.”
“Money grows on trees when it’s for the--”
“--Now don’t start with that.”
A shout from the field stopped them from fully getting into it, thankfully.
“Hey little guy! The King wants you!” Daruk yelled at someone.
Zelda turned to find that who she presumed to be this Link character, was indeed a little guy. A Hylian like her, as small as her, maybe even a bit shorter, waved back at Daruk and started jogging up the grandstand stairs. His dirty blonde hair was pulled back into a wolf tail, and his mud-stained blue t-shirt and ripped jeans spoke of a morning spent practicing. He looked the part of a knight, and certainly of someone who worked at a renaissance faire, but in a very much bite-sized package.
“That’s Link,” Rhoam offered instead of an apology.
“He’s…short,” Zelda noted.
“He makes up for it,” Rhoam assured her. “Link, over here!”
Upon closer inspection, once he reached them, Zelda confirmed that Link was indeed a few inches shorter than her. Not absolutely miniscule, but still not exactly the picture of a tall, handsome knight. He had a certain curiosity sparkling in his blue eyes, and overall wasn’t bad to look at. Just…short.
And, just as Purah had warned her, he greeted them with only a wave.
“Link, this is Zelda. You probably don’t recognize her. You had to be, oh, maybe five? Six? I don’t know. It was a long ass time ago,” Rhoam said as his introduction. “But you said you remembered her.”
Zelda didn’t remember him. Her summers were so full of people. Long time employees acting as surrogate parents, guests fawning over the cute little princess, random vendors giving her ice cream and lemonade just to try to get her to smile again.
The tiniest of smiles lifted the corner of Link’s lips before he seemed to suppress it. His face turned to a stony neutral expression again before he turned to Rhoam and nodded.
“You’ll have to forgive the lad, Zelda. He isn’t much of a talker. But we’re playing that up in the show. He’s going to be the Silent Knight. Good stage name, right?” Rhoam went on.
“Fantastic,” Zelda responded, with purposeful flatness that she hoped her father understood to be a complete lack of enthusiasm for this entire thing.
And for the fact that he thought it was a good idea to have Purah bring her straight to a fucking rehearsal.
“Well, since you’re both here, and I see Urbosa over there, I think we have everyone we need to start again,” Rhoam said as he looked over the tournament grounds again before leaning over the railing to shout, his deep voice echoing over the dusty summer afternoon. “Impa! Get me a script for Zelda. Also say hi to her. And everybody else, places for the Champion’s Blessing scene! We’re doing this again from the top.”
And there it was again. The faire once again won out over her and her needs. Zelda knew it would happen. It did every summer. But still, it would be nice to hear from someone besides Purah that the world wasn’t ending.
It still felt like it was.
Rhoam walked off without another word to start doing what he did best, both directing and making himself the star of the show. Link, at least, offered her a wave goodbye as he turned to head toward the stairs again.
“Hey you! Catch!” came a call from below Zelda.
Which was followed by the fluttering of paper, as a script-shaped missile began flying from Impa’s hand straight toward Zelda’s head.
Only for a hand to reach out and catch it before it could make impact, reacting much faster than Zelda could ever hope to.
Link had turned back around in time to catch the rolled up script, and was presenting it to Zelda as if it were some sort of sacred artifact. He even had his head bowed a little.
As weird as that was, Zelda was grateful not to be smacked in the face with her father’s terrible writing, at least in the literal sense. No one could save her from the figurative smack now.
“Thank you,” she offered. “Oh…wait, um. Hold on, I think I remember.”
She signed for thank you, as no one had taken the time to explain to her why Link didn’t talk. She was left to assume. So she assumed that maybe he was hard of hearing? It was a decent enough guess.
But wait, her father had spoken to him. Link had responded to that. Was he reading lips or did he hear him? Oh well. Either way, she’d already made the sign. No taking it back now.
He lifted his head and smiled his little almost-smile again, but did not sign back. Instead, he offered the script more insistently.
“Right,” Zelda said, trying to summon all of her years of practicing her princessy grace to not inject any further awkwardness into the act of taking the script from his hand.
“Thanks for not letting me bean her, Link,” Impa said as she came up the rest of the stairs to meet them. “Rhoam would have had a fit if I gave her a black eye, even if it was with his shitty writing.”
Link nodded to that and then promptly jogged down the grandstand again. He was rather fast for as short as he was, Zelda had to admit.
“I promise he’s cool,” Impa offered as she followed Zelda’s eyes to him. “Well, as cool as someone who doesn’t talk can be. Anyway, how are you?”
“I could be better,” Zelda admitted.
Purah’s older sister was far more emotionally in tune than her, and had known Zelda longer. There was no point in attempting to hide anything from her. She’d been working as the faire’s stage manager since she was still in high school, after all. And now she was what, twenty-three? Twenty-four?
Zelda could hardly believe her own age, let alone Impa’s. She still felt like the same little girl she so often saw herself as in her dreams, riding on Urbosa’s hip and dripping her ice cream all over the colorful silk of the Gerudo woman’s belly dancer costume.
“Purah told me all about it. I’m sorry things worked out like that, but I’m glad you’re here. Me and the rest of the crew will make sure you still have an amazing summer, even if it’s not the one you wanted to have,” Impa assured her, reaching out to pull her into a quick hug.
“Thanks, Impa.”
At least that much she knew would be true. Her father couldn’t be counted on for much, but Zelda hadn’t given her faire family enough credit. They would definitely make this fun, even on the hottest, most crowded, and most miserable of days. They always did.
Still, it wasn’t what she wanted. Or what her father wanted for her. And, in a rare moment of honesty with herself, Zelda thought for just that moment, that perhaps it was getting harder and harder to reconcile those two things.
“People! I said places! Where is everyone?” Rhoam shouted from the field, as if on cue.
---
And so Zelda found herself in her usual spot, on the circle of stone tiles that had been arranged into a mosaic portraying the Triforce and the old royal seal of Hyrule’s ancient monarchy within it. Her father was nothing if not a stickler for having at least some historical accuracy at the faire, and had gone to great lengths to research and restore what he could of the original grounds. This mosaic and its imagery were among those projects.
Zelda blamed that for her true passion. As great as studying for medical school was, and wanting to follow in her mother’s footsteps as a research doctor, her medical textbooks didn’t quite hold her attention like archeology could. The history, the artifacts, the ruins like those she’d grown up around--Hyrule was full of these little windows into the past, just waiting to reveal answers to questions long forgotten. It was fascinating.
Fascinating enough that she’d managed to make it her minor, even though very few classes overlapped nicely with her pre-med track.
Fascinating enough that, at times, she could almost forgive her father for getting lost in the fantasy version of it.
So she did her best to put on her most regal Princess Zelda face as she read from the script, adding a new blessing for Link to his new storyline.
“Hero of Hyrule, chosen by the sword that seals the darkness. You have shown unflinching bravery and skill in the face of darkness and adversity, and have proven yourself worthy of the blessing of the Goddess Hylia. Whether skyward bound, adrift in time, or steeped in the glowing embers of twilight--Dad, really? This is so verbose.”
“We’re well past the review or rewrite stage on this, princess. The faire opens this weekend,” Rhoam shouted down from the royal box, where he’d taken up residence again once the scene started.
Zelda rolled her eyes and continued on, “The sacred blade is forever bound to the soul of the Hero. We pray for your protection…and we hope that--that you two will grow stronger together, as one.” She had to look up again from that one, addressing her father in confusion, “Wait, him and the sword or…?”
“Pretty sure it’s the sword?” Daruk answered, scratching his head. “Honestly I was lost when Impa was reading this part for you too, kiddo. You reading it doesn't make it make any more sense to me.”
“Yes, it’s the sword! This is all based on the legends of the Hero and the Master Sword. Come on people, you’re supposed to be acting out history. You should know it!” Rhoam complained from above.
“Ancient legends aren’t exactly historical, Rhoam,” Urbosa reminded him, then nodded toward Zelda. “Continue on anyway. We need to get you some sunscreen after this, little bird. The heat is vicious today, even for me.”
Of course she was worried about sunscreen. The Gerudo woman had been the closest thing Zelda had to a mother after her own mother died, but that didn’t mean she had to act like it.
Though yes, the summer sun was quite hot already. It made her dread sweating in the heavy fabric of her usual princess costume all the more, but thankfully, for today, everyone was still in casual clothes.
“Right,” Zelda said, taking a deep breath and reaching out again to hover her hand over Link’s shoulder.
The Silent Knight, for his part, was dutifully bowed and on one knee before her, and hadn’t so much as flinched for all of the disruptions. He was so still that not even a single new wrinkle had been added to his dirty shirt this entire time. Was he wearing cowboy boots under those jeans? Of course he was. Of course…
Zelda shifted her focus back the script in her hand and continued on with the increasingly flowery speech, but was finding herself losing steam over the words. Honestly, she just wanted to go home. She wanted a shower. She wanted to order a pizza from her favorite place in town, eat too much of it to the point of mild regret, and then pass out. She’d been up since six in the morning to make that flight. All for her father to just throw her back into this world without so much as a hug?
Really, why did she bother to come back here?
“Gee, this is uplifting,” she heard Daruk whisper under his breath as she droned on.
“Wasn’t this your idea?” Revali snapped back at him with far less subtlety, but still quiet enough not to stop the scene again. His deep blue Rito feathers spread wide from his wings as he went on, “You’re the one who told Rhoam to add all this pomp and ceremony and nonsense to this scene! And if you ask me, the whole thing does seem to be overkill. Really, who in our audience is going to care all that much about this boy?”
“Oh, give it a rest,” Urbosa quietly scolded him as she pushed her long red ponytail off of her shoulder. “That boy has been getting more attention from her father than she ever does. Well, at least she’ll find out soon enough.”
Great. Another thing to look forward to dealing with this summer. And for the other knights to be worried about her for it. Zelda really wanted that shower and pizza more than anything else right now.
But when the words on the page ran out, and her name no longer appeared on the script, Zelda couldn’t help but look down at him. At this Link.
He was just a kid. Well, not really. He had to be at least as old as her, if she was supposed to remember him that is. But he was scrawny and small. Honestly barely believable for winning a tournament over the likes of the other Champions. Sure, the audience loves an underdog, she could almost hear her father saying as much now--but really, this kid?
Zelda, of course, knew the legends her father was referencing in that lengthy speech of hers. They were where her name came from, after all. They were her favorite bedtime stories, back when she was young. Back when things were still okay, before her mother died.
But they were just stories. Stories that were mostly the same, but slightly different in each iteration. There was always a Hero, some bright young man with unmatched courage. He always found or was given some sort of magical sword. It talked to him in some of the stories, shot magical beams of light in others, or sometimes just emitted a soft glow in the presence of evil. And he always saved a princess named Zelda from some evil monster or corrupt king. Every time.
Only Zelda was pretty sure she didn’t want or need saving. Much less from some odd young man who didn’t even have the courage to say hello to her.
Some hero he made.
---
The following day--exactly one late night hot shower and an amount of pizza that Zelda wasn’t proud of later--the temperature was even hotter and the sun somehow even brighter. Her father, in all his kingly compassion and good judgment, had decided that this was the perfect day to impose a full dress rehearsal and costume review on the entire staff.
“No different from last year,” Purah informed her as she inspected her from the blessed air conditioning of the ladies’ dressing rooms. “You haven’t changed a bit, and the dress is still in good shape. Thanks for making my job easy.”
“I suppose that’s a good thing,” Zelda noted as she adjusted the flowing bell sleeves of her princess dress, trying to think of any other reason to delay stepping out into the heat in this ridiculous thing.
But it was no use. She’d be wearing this dress all summer, regardless of the temperature. Purah had made her another outfit a few years back with some leggings instead of the heavy skirts. It was a little better, but she could only get away with that one on days where her father was too distracted to disapprove. He didn’t think it was “princessy��� enough, and wouldn’t take her insisting that the leggings were historically accurate fashion for Hylian nobility of the time period for an answer.
“I still have the pants version, you know. I don’t see why daddy dearest doesn’t let you at least do walkarounds in that,” Purah noted with a little frown as she looked Zelda up and down one last time.
She herself was in her full Sheikah getup, honoring her people’s heritage with a sort of pale gray robe that covered most of the red leggings and bodysuit she wore underneath. Unlike her older sister, she didn’t opt for the Sheikah eye symbol painted on her face, but she also had less of a chance of being seen “on stage”.
Honestly, it was all so ridiculous. Her father treated the entire faire as a theater production, or a theme park that warranted a much more expensive ticket price than they could ever hope to ask for. Referring to employee only areas as backstage, calling said employees cast or actors, forcing even the third party vendors to dress up in period clothes--it was all just overkill for what amounted to a pretty average regional renaissance festival.
But there was no telling that to the King.
“Remind me in a few weeks and I’ll see if I can get away with it,” Zelda said. She peered in the mirror of a nearby vanity and adjusted her tiara a bit. “For now, I think I’m stuck in this thing.”
“Sure thing,” Purah nodded, but then moved to step in front of her before she could leave. “Check it there a second. I’m putting us on TikTok this year, and I want to show the people your fit.”
“Purah, I understood about half of the words that left your mouth just now,” Zelda informed her.
Purah, however, was too busy pulling out her phone and grinning at the screen. “Look princessy.”
“That’s been my job since I was six years old.”
“Okay good, so do it.”
Zelda let out a brief sigh, but did her best to pose for whatever Purah was asking of her.
“Now turn or spin or something,” Purah said. “And don’t tell me you don’t know what TikTok is. You’re my age.”
“I’m usually too busy studying to mess around with social media,” Zelda said, repeating an excuse she told her fellow students so often that it was nearly as ingrained into her head as her speech for the Champions’ Tournament.
“That’s a lie. I follow you on Insta, you know. You take really pretty pictures. Boring, but pretty. Now spin,” Purah demanded.
Zelda knew she wasn’t getting out of here without a spin, so she spun. The action made her smile, remembering how she’d spin around with all the little girls who would come to the faire in their princess dresses. They were so excited to see her year after year, even after they grew out of those little dress-up princess costumes themselves.
Still, Zelda could always make guests like them smile. And maybe that was worth sweating in royal blue velvet all day.
“I still have the faire’s Instagram account,” Zelda realized as she finished her spin. “I should probably start posting on it.”
“I’m surprised you dad didn’t ask you to,” Purah noted, tapping on her phone with a little grin that told Zelda she must be satisfied with the footage.
“He still thinks the key to success is advertising in the newspapers, so I don’t think he knows enough to ask. Better it stays that way,” Zelda concluded. “Now, do I have permission to leave?”
Purah was still too busy smirking at her phone. “I’m gonna add so many sparkles to you.”
“I’m taking that as a yes,” Zelda responded and walked around Purah with no further resistance.
She gathered her own phone from her locker on the way out. Of course, there were no phones allowed on stage when there were guests at the faire, but the rule would not be enforced for the next few dress rehearsal days. It would be a great time for getting enough shots to fill up all the social media accounts for the rest of the summer. That meant a lot of pictures to be taken on top of all of the other wrangling her father expected her to do. But luckily for her, photography was Zelda’s second passion after archeology.
And doubly-lucky, her dress had pockets.
She loved a dress with pockets.
“I’ll head for Goron City first,” she announced to herself as she exited the dressing rooms. “Daruk will no doubt need some help getting his booth in order.”
She had a bad habit of talking to herself. She liked talking. It helped her organize her thoughts. And it wasn’t problematic if no one was around to hear her.
It was only when she’d rambled her way through the end of that second sentence that she noticed her footsteps were echoing. But that wasn’t possible? The crunch of the gravel was definitely bouncing off something. But there were only cloth tents, the gravel pathway, and the trailer that made up the dressing room behind her. Nothing to echo off of, unless…
Zelda stopped and turned, only to find that Link had stopped with her, and remained about five steps back from her.
He was decked out in his Champion’s garb. Her father had decided to scrap the gifting of the cloth to the Champions from the main show and just have them wear the tokens of Princess Zelda’s favor with their regular Champion costumes. Pretty much the entirety of Link’s costume was that token--a tunic of a slightly brighter shade of her royal blue, embroidered in white with his symbol, which was that of the legendary sword.
All very extra, as Purah might say.
The causal knightley look was completed with various belts and pouches. Of course, attached to one that was slung from shoulder to waist on him was a massive purple and gold scabbard, in which his prop sword sat--peace-knotted of course.
It would only come out of that scabbard for the tournament, of course. Zelda had yet to see what he could do with, as the previous afternoon’s rehearsal focused entirely on the opening ceremonies and not on any of the actual stage combat, but apparently even Urbosa was impressed with him, so he had to be decent.
“Hello Link,” she said as she looked him over. “Your costume fits you well. I see Purah’s been hard at work.”
He nodded to this, blue eyes earnest and expression neutral. Not even offering a hint of his opinion on the matter.
Well, that was going to take some getting used to. Especially if he kept just…staring at her like that.
“I suppose I’ll see you at show rehearsal in a bit. I’m going to check on some things and take some pictures for the faire’s Instagram,” Zelda explained, pulling her phone out of her pocket to wiggle it in evidence and waiting for him to give her some sort of sign that she could politely exit this one-sided conversation.
Link nodded again.
The awkwardness of his silence might kill her, if the summer heat and her own anxieties didn’t beat him to it.
Zelda decided that was enough and she could leave, only to hear the dual crunching of gravel yet again.
She stopped.
Link stopped with her.
“Are you…following me?” she asked, barely turning her head enough to be able to see him from the corner of her eye.
Link’s expression changed, only for the briefest of moments again. A look of concern passed his face for half a second, bending his eyebrows slightly downward and scrunching his nose, but it all smoothed back to neutral again.
He nodded.
Zelda turned to face him, not bothering to conceal her annoyance this time. “Let me guess, my father asked you to keep an eye on me? To make sure that I was doing what he asked?”
Link seemed to think about this one for a moment before he nodded again.
Zelda sighed. She wasn’t getting paid enough for this. Actually she wasn’t really getting paid at all. Her father had decided that instead of giving her wages for her work at the faire, that he’d put them into a bank account he would use to help with her tuition. And while she appreciated that, and had been able to save herself from taking much in the way of student loans for it, it wasn’t all that satisfying to have nothing in her own bank account to show for all this work.
She found herself pinching the bridge of her nose. This wouldn’t be the first time her father had assigned one of his employees to keep tabs on her. That had actually been Impa’s first job, but she’d been reassigned to stage management after Zelda became too good at evading her.
But Link. Link didn’t talk. Link couldn’t be distracted with a conversation. Link was new to the faire and didn’t have a friend she could foist him off on.
She was quite possibly stuck with him for at least the rest of rehearsal week.
“Well, come on then,” Zelda said, turning back to head for Daruk’s blacksmith shop. It was set up on the northeastern side of the grounds.
She didn’t look back.
Link, as he would continue to do without fail for the rest of the day, followed without complaint.
#zelda#breath of the wild#zelink#fanfic#the world will only darken without candlelight#i will come to regret how long that title is for sure#are we going to retell every single memory and then have link speedrun botw at the end?#you betcha
33 notes
·
View notes
Text
Writing Prompt #1
Characters reaction to being kidnapped.
I wrote this like, two years ago and was going to post it when I finished it’s sister piece (my ocs reaction to being kidnapped) it was supposed to represent a proxy who has dealt with the operator for years and is comfortable enough to know what is and what isn’t it’s influence and my oc was supposed to represent someone newer to all of this, not yet realizing the thoughts they can’t control aren’t their own.
Let me know if you want to see that sister piece! I need motivation lol
Anyway! Enjoy reading
————————————————————————
Brain woke up with a headache worse than it usually was, trying his best to figure out what the fuck exactly happened and why he was tied to a chair with a bag over his head. The last thing he remembered was that he was out on a simple mission, surveying the forest and getting rid of trespassers to appease the Operator. It had been a quiet night with the only interesting thing being the cabin he found. He previously remembered it to have been abandoned, however there was clearly light coming from inside. He didn’t waste time giving thought to it, figuring it was too late for any camper to be awake. He’ll make this job quick so he can get back sooner.
The first step in and he didn’t have time to react to the harsh hit to the back of the head, hard enough to make his vision blur but not enough to knock him out. The masked man whipped around to attack his attacker back only for the same pipe to hit him across the forehead. This time rendering him unconscious but catching a glimpse of a striped hoodie that he could almost remember. Of course the one time he doesn’t make a plan he gets the shit knocked out of him.
Lost in the dark with his pounding headache all that was left was to try and wiggle out of the ropes. Alone with his thoughts of how much of an idiot he is for actually being able to get caught like that, only to feel more like an idiot after struggling for 20 minutes and getting nowhere. At least he was alone and no one could see how stupid probably looked.
“You look like a fuckin’ idiot. Would you give up already?” The familiar voice causes him to freeze in his seat out of disbelief. Becoming very aware of the other breathing in the room. How was he breathing? Brian watched the tapes after everything- he watched Tim kill him. There was no way he could come back. Yet here both of them are. Two dead men sitting in the same room occupying the living world once again. Brian’s shock wears off after remembering his own untimely demise.
“Wow Alex.. you knew I always wanted a surprise party. Unfortunately..it ain’t my birthday yet’ “ Brian dryly chuckles at his poor attempt at humor, flinching at the sudden light hitting his eyes when the bag is ripped off. Alex’s angry face stares down at him, reminding Brian just how real all of this is.
“Shut the fuck up. You- you’re supposed to be dead!” His tone is stern but clearly Alex hasn’t accepted this as quickly as Brian. It's enough to keep the grin on Brian's face despite the fact he probably has a concussion. This’ll be interesting.
“I’m supposed to be dead? What about you?” He raised an eyebrow while tiling his head to the side to mock him. He squinted his eyes to try and make out any wounds on the others neck to no avail. There was nothing, like it never even happened. Just like Brian’s head.
“Stop fucking looking at me like that, asshole.” Alex stumbled out, running a hand through his hair while he paced in front of Brian. “I- I had your fucking body.” He crazily gestures with his hands, “And now you’re here? Are the rest of you alive too? How many times do I have to kill all of you??” His voice cracks into something broken, catching Brian off guard and causing him to refrain from calling Alex a creep for holding onto his body. Alex slumps against a wall, looking utterly defeated.
“...uh” Brain starts, not really sure how to comfort the guy who tried killing him for 6 years and currently has him tied up in a chair. “Maybe give up on the whole…killing us thing? Clearly it’s not working.” He continued to fidget with the knots around his wrist while Alex wasn’t paying attention. He had recognized the knot from rock climbing and now that he could see he could possibly undo it.
“Very funny.” Alex practically growls at him but he isn’t on the verge of tears anymore, instead he is fidgeting with a familiar looking gun. Of course even after dying he kept a cold hard clutch to the gun, Brian almost laughs but he doesn’t want to get shot at. He has plans with Tim that he doesn’t want to miss so he’ll have to try and survive this.
“I wasn’t joking. Do you really wanna waste the rest of your life re-killing all of us? You know IT can bring us all back whenever’. I don’t know how but- Hell! You’re a perfect example of that. Video proof of you bleedin’ out and not a single scar from it on ya.” Brain rambles on, holding in a sigh of relief when he feels the ropes around his wrist come undone. He holds onto the rope and keeps his hands behind his back. Waiting for a moment where he’ll be able to free the rest of himself and get away from his old friend.
“I forgot that you don’t know when to shut the fuck up.” Alex holds onto his head like it's going to split but he makes no other attempt to show that he's in pain. “When did you get so annoying anyway? It’s like you want me to kill you.” His voice shakes and Brian wonders if he can feel it yet too, the distaint buzz in the air. This will be over soon.
“You can avoid it all you want, Alex.” He takes the moment that Alex is vulnerable to sneak his pocket knife and start sawing at the rope around his ankles. “You can’t do anything to stop him..believe me, we all tried.” A clicking of a gun causes him to freeze while he was still looking down at his shoes, heart sinking into his chest while he started considering how this might all end.
“What did you get from ‘YOU TALK TO MUCH!’ It wasn’t a fuckin’ invatation, Bri.” He sat in his same spot only now he was aiming his gun at him. Casual from doing this so much, from killing them all before- everyone but him. Brian finished his job before he got the chance. Was that why he was so mad? Or was it the ever increasing headache that made him want to tear his own head off, one that was all to familiar. Brian slowly looked up at him to watch his face switch to realization and back to anger. “Did- DID YOU FUCKING SUMMON IT OR SOMETHING??”
As if on cue IT stood between the two of them but ITS attention was all on Alex, leaving Brian so he could think clearly enough to get out of the restraints. He grabs his stuff that Alex took off him, just his masks and gun that thankfully were easy to find with the chaos. Brian turns to leave the cabin, squinting a little due to most likely having a concussion. He was almost out and was content with leaving Alex alone in the woods. Alex’s screams wracked his brain until he was halfway out the door, he was alone with the static but he felt as if he could understand it.
A voice that he always mistook for his own internal dialogue told him what to do, like it was his own thought. But he knew that was ITS influence yet he couldn’t help but follow. Take him. The longer he stalls the louder he gets. He’s one of us. Even if Brian didn’t agree he couldn’t put up a fight, he was too tired to fight back anymore.
He left after throwing the unconscious Alex over his shoulder, avoiding ITS glaze while draping the mask over his head. His midnight plans were definitely ruined now.
#marble hornets fanfic#marble hornets#brian thomas#mh hoody#mh hoodie#tim wright#alex kralie#writing prompt#creepypasta#angst#deflecting with comedy
14 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hellooo I saw ur post about fic requests and how u want to write parts that people will read so I wanted to ask u please for more of slasher field trip! :)) I’ve found it very compelling and I like it a lot! No pressure to actually write, just thought I’d tell u I would like it a lot!
Sorry, I know I lollygag on this and Slasher Party, I am trying to get them done, but they require a bit more energy and thinking
--
Gaz sat on his bed and tried not to focus on how overwhelmingly lonely he was. He got up and decided to go to a cafe in order to ignore it. The notes had slowed down and… Gaz would have been lying if he said he didn’t miss them.
He’d had another hookup on Friday. Some random guy named Evan who had ended up dead the next day. So, Gaz was no longer having hookups. He didn’t want to blame himself, but Tyler, Mr Smith, and Evan all ending up dead…
It was a massive coincidence, one he very much wanted to ignore. Though… who would kill for him? Who the fuck would kill anyone because they slept with him? Alright, reasonably he knew it had to be connected with the notes that kept popping up.
Or, used to pop up. He hadn’t received one in a couple days. Why did that upset him? Why did he care? Why?
He shook it off and carefully headed into the cafe, despite how early it was. This cafe was open 24/7 for studying students, since a lot of night classes let out late. He ordered a tea and a snack before going to a table, sitting down and holding his head.
Laswell had suggested he see a therapist but… what would they do? He wasn’t really that depressed, he definitely wasn’t suicidal, he was just lonely… He doubted a therapist would be able to fix that. Besides, maybe they’d just try to fuck him, too.
Frustration settled into his chest and he just tried to sip his tea and push the issue out of his mind. What did it matter, anyway?
“Hey, are you okay? You look upset.”
Gaz blinked and looked up, flushing when he saw Alex. “Oh. Yeah… Just… having trouble sleeping, I guess.” Well, he definitely couldn’t consider Alex, now. He did not want him to end up dead. How unfair… He’d maybe had a chance with Alex, but that had been killed before it even began. “What about you?”
“I have troubles sleeping at night. Nocturnal, I guess.” Alex shrugged and sat in the seat across from Gaz. “Any particular reason you’re having trouble sleeping?”
Gaz hesitated before just shaking his head. “After Mr Smith died, I just… I don’t know. It’s weird, I feel like every guy I’ve hooked up with lately has ended up dead.”
“I’m sure it’s not every guy…” Alex frowned, and Gaz furrowed his brows when he noticed him fidget. Ah, probably grateful he never went for it.
Gaz snorted. “No, I mean… I’m sure it’s just a coincidence but… I don’t know, it’s had my head full, I guess.”
Alex smiled, sympathetically. “I understand… I can imagine it’s a lot.” More than a lot. Gaz felt antsy just having a conversation with Alex but… He doubted anything could come from just a conversation… Besides, he was more than convinced it was just a coincidence. “Hey um… you want to come back to my place? Not for… anything just… I don’t know, we could like watch a movie or something?”
He looked awkward and Gaz’s heart just melted. Oh, he wanted to. He wanted to so bad but… What if it led to something? What if Alex died? No, he couldn’t handle that. Rational people would go to the police when three of their hookups die. Gaz wasn’t rational, but he wasn’t going to let Alex die. “I… I can’t…”
Alex frowned. “Oh uh… Alright. No, that’s okay.” He shrugged it off and smiled. “I’m content to keep talking to you, here…”
Oh, Alex respecting his boundaries shouldn’t make Gaz want him more but he did… He wanted Alex so much more, now, and it was hard to ignore… “Okay.” He smiled, trying to fight temptation to give in and take Alex up on his offer… Oh, it was probably coincidence, anyway, right?
Surely nothing would happen, right?
“You know, maybe a movie wouldn’t be so awful… might take my mind off of things.” Gaz decided, against his better judgment, and smiled. “Just a movie, though… right?”
“Whatever you want it to be.” Alex nodded. “Nothing more or less.”
“Well, then a movie sounds fun.” Gaz relaxed and then gathered his stuff up, following Alex out of the cafe.
They went back to Alex’s place, and it was only a short walk from the cafe, though it was in the opposite direction of Gaz’s dorm building. He followed Alex up to his apartment, surprised by the size of it. Apparently, Alex got it for half of the normal rent because he also worked for the apartment building on the weekends. He revealed this while rambling to Gaz about it and taking Gaz’s jacket from him. “I love it, though.”
Gaz thought it was very nice. A bit empty but… Alex claimed to have just moved in a month or so before. Not much time to make it a home, yet. “It’s a little big for just me but… I’ve considered a dog.” Alex sighed.
Very nice furniture, but it was furniture Gaz wouldn’t be afraid to sit on. Black suede, it looked like, and it was very comfortable looking, an L shape with a very nice looking black coffee table. He took a seat when offered and Alex went over to a very large entertainment center where a massive amount of DVDs and a huge tv rested. “I have a lot of movies on DVD and whatever I don’t have, I could probably stream if you give me a minute, so any idea what you want to watch?”
Admittedly? Gaz didn’t watch many movies. He just… couldn’t focus on them long enough. So, he just shrugged. “Whatever you pick will be fine.” He looked around the apartment, liking how open it was. The kitchen was separated from the living room not by a wall, but instead by a kitchen island, which had two stools sitting in front of it.
The kitchen itself, while not massive, had a decent amount of counter space in it. Not useful for Gaz, he didn’t cook much. “Do you cook?” He asked and saw Alex glance back at him.
“Oh. Yeah, a decent amount. No one to cook for me and I’m not one for eating out. Not that I want someone to cook for me, I’m self sufficient.” Alex chuckled and shook his head, finally picking out a movie. “My mom wants me to find a nice girl, settle down… I’m not really for that, though.”
“Oh?” Gaz tilted his head. “Is it the girl part or settling down?”
“Oh, I’d love to settle down.” Alex came back over to him. “Getting married, making a life, that sounds nice. It’s the girl part. I’ve never been interested in them. Probably her fault.”
Gaz frowned. “What do you mean?”
“She sexually abused me.” Alex was blunt, it shocked Gaz. “Pretty heavily. She would have me dress up like my dad and… have sex with me.”
“That’s awful.” Gaz frowned, furrowing his brows. He couldn’t imagine… “I… I hope you don’t still talk to her.”
“No. She’s dead.” Alex sighed. “Someone… broke into our house and stabbed her to death. When I was 17, it was pretty horrible. I don’t think they knew I was in the house, or they might have killed me, too. I found her body in the morning.”
“Oh…” Gaz blinked and then bit the inside of his lip. Alex was so open about it… Gaz doubted he’d tell another soul. He hardly wanted to talk about what happened with Tyler, he’d barely been able to tell the police about it. “I… I’m sorry… being around Tyler when he died… that was bad enough, but I couldn’t imagine it was my mom… Even if… if…”
“It’s alright.” Alex smiled at him. “It’s been three years, I moved on. It was… difficult, I’ll admit, but I did. It helped me get away from her, as horrible as that sounds.”
“I don’t think it sounds horrible…” Gaz admitted. “She was abusing you, I… I’m glad you were able to get away.”
“Me too.” Alex sighed. “But, yeah, never interested in girls. I prefer pretty boys…” His eyes turned to Gaz and Gaz looked away, flushing. “Alejandro, Ghost, and I have that in common, though, I guess. Well, we have a lot in common.”
Gaz nodded, able to pick up the unspoken implication. He settled into the couch, unsure what to say, and tried to focus on the tv, though his mind was racing. He really couldn’t imagine… He used sex as a coping mechanism, but it was always consensual.
Though, what was Gaz really coping with? Was loneliness a good excuse to call it a coping mechanism?
He blushed when his face was touched and he was made to look at Alex, biting the inside of his lip. “God, you’re so beautiful when you think.” Alex murmured. “It’s like I can see every thought as it passes through your head, right across those eyes… I can’t comprehend them, but… I’d love to.”
Gaz felt his skin go dark red and he couldn’t help just melting. He wondered, briefly, if this is what romance felt like and… maybe he was easy, he could accept that about himself, but he wanted nothing more than to give in… “I can hardly comprehend them, myself.”
Alex shook his head, smiling. “You’re too intelligent, I highly doubt it.” He let go of Gaz’s face and then his eyes moved down to his mouth.
If Alex was trying to seduce him, it was working… Whatever you want it to be. Nothing more or less. Fuck… Gaz leaned forward and Alex met him, and the kiss was soft… delicate. Wonderful. He understood that moment in movies where there were fireworks, because he swore he felt them.
Gaz went to push forward, but then Alex was breaking away. “I don’t-” Alex started and his eyes opened, though they were soft as they met Gaz’s. “I don’t want you to mistake my intentions, I don’t want just sex.”
Oh. Disappointment coursed through Gaz’s body, because he knew he’d never be worth more than sex. Alex didn’t want him. “What do you want?” He murmured, furrowing his brows. “I…”
“I want love,” Alex shrugged. “It’s cheesy, but I do. I want a relationship. I want to be happy, I want…” He paused and then he reached up and touched Gaz’s face, his thumb running over his lips. “I want every piece of you and then I want more…”
I want every piece of you. Of you.
Oh…
Gaz softened and then he was just melting. “But… nobody wants me for more than sex.”
“I do. Anyone who doesn’t is an idiot.” Alex shook his head and he moved his hand down to Gaz’s neck, resting it there, gently. “Tyler was an idiot. Mr Smith was an idiot. Evan was an idiot. I mean, Tyler had the opportunity in his hands and he was just going to waste it. I would never do that. I would never waste having you like that.”
Gaz stopped. “What?” He’d never given Alex details, just said they’d gone on a date and Tyler had died. “I-” He went to back away, and thankfully Alex let him.
But, he kept talking, “I would have just let it happen but then he had to speak to you so cruelly, too, and that just wouldn’t work for me. Being stupid is one thing, but to waste the precious time he had with you and then to just… insult you like that. No, no, I couldn’t let that fly.”
Realization struck right into Gaz’s chest. “What are you talking about?” He knew what Alex was talking about. Blue eyes… Looking at him not with malice but… affection.
“I was just so angry… I tend to get carried away, I’m a bit passionate, and… I was going to explain to you, then, everything. Take you home… keep you, but you were so scared and… I wanted to wait. Until you were comfortable. I thought, later, when you were going to meet with Mr Smith, that then would be perfect. But… you were preoccupied. I thought you might think I was bombarding you. So, I backed off. And wouldn’t you know it? He was an idiot, too. Those pictures you sent him? He would show his friends. He bragged about how easy you were. How much you cared for him. You didn’t deserve that… So, he had to go, too. Evan was just collateral damage, I have no real reason… Just another careless idiot that didn’t deserve you.”
Gaz stood while Alex was talking, about to back away towards the door. “You… You killed them.”
“I did.” Alex nodded, his eyes watching him. He smiled. “Gaz, you don’t think I’m going to let you leave, right?”
Gaz wasn’t going to give him the choice. He turned to rush to the door, but Alex was there before he made it, standing right in front of the door. “Oh, Kyle…” He didn’t look malicious, even then. But, Gaz looked up into Alex’s eyes, at the bright blue eyes that had been in his nightmares, and he shivered, stepping back. They still held that same affection. “Alejandro said Rodolfo and Soap had similar reactions… Farah warned me that her girlfriend had freaked out, too.”
Gaz paused. “Farah… Farah… what?”
Alex reached and touched Gaz’s face, and Gaz couldn’t find himself backing away. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
“You’re a murderer… You… You murdered Tyler and Mr Smith! Evan and… who else?”
“Eh… It’s a list.” Alex shrugged. “You don’t want to know. No one else that you know, don’t worry. I don’t feel bad for who I’ve killed… I wish I could, but I just don’t. I just feel bad for frightening you.”
Gaz stared at Alex in horror. “Why?? Why would you… you do that?!” His mind was caught on the names. Alejandro said Rodolfo and Soap… Farah said her girlfriend… Did that mean Alejandro and Ghost were… were murderers too? He needed to get away, he needed to tell the police, he-
Alex leaned forward and kissed him, again, soft and tender and… gentle. Loving. His arms moved around Gaz and pulled him close, carefully.
And Gaz…
God, he really was easy, wasn’t he? Because he gave in. He was so lonely, he was so desperately lonely, and he wanted nothing more than to be loved, and to be held, and to have someone want him, so he gave in.
He kissed Alex back.
--
Hey! Just a reminder that this series and others are ask based, which means I'll only write other parts if I have asks for it! Which means if you want more, go ahead and send an ask for the next part!
Do you want to be added to this taglist? Reply to this post that you wish to be added to the taglist and I will start to tag you in it every time I post it. You can also use this form!
@Wittymanatee @Humanmilkerr @vergilnelosparda @cathsolos @thegodofsleep @bl-nk-sp-ce @captainsimcoe @del79jji @stardust-medic99 @thatnerdnamedtj
#slasher fieldtrip cod au#Alejandro Vargas#Rodolfo Parra#Alejandro x Rodolfo#Aledolfo#Call Of Duty: Modern Warfare II#Call Of Duty#Kyle Gaz Garrick#Gaz Cod#Alex Keller#Alex COD#Gaz x Alex#Alex x Gaz#call of duty modern warfare#call of duty modern warfare II#Johnny Soap Mactavish#Simon Ghost Riley#Soap Cod#Ghost COD#Soapghost#Ghostsoap#Soap x Ghost#Ghost x Soap#Macriley#Call Of Duty Modern Warfare 2
23 notes
·
View notes
Note
Can perhaps write mallek and/or lanque with a sick troll s/o who is just completely fucking miserable when sick??
So sorry I'm late anon; I wanted to finish up my last WIP before getting into another. I hope you're feeling better!! I wrote a silly little Mallek drabble FOR YOU! I am also residenting absolute evil when I'm sick, so I totally get it <3 This was a super fun lil fic to write, thanks for the prompt!! EDIT: Sorry, I missed the troll part of this ask! I really don't write that for future reference, unless it's either a headcanons only post (i.e. not fic) or canon chara x canon chara.
Osmosis Jones Was Blue, Too | G | 1426 words | AO3 link
___
It's a well known fact that an object in motion stays in motion. What they don't tell you is: an object at rest is rarely allowed to stay resting.
You, however, have found your ace in the hole, your golden ticket: the word sick? Hell, even just the implication: it always brings the conversation to a grinding halt.
POLYPA: hey * me and tegs are * having movie night *
POLYPA: subs * not dubs *
YOU: Sorry Polypa, but I don't think that's a very good idea...
POLYPA: i think it's * a great idea *
POLYPA: do you know * how hard * it is to get * teg to agree * to * subs *
YOU: I think I'm getting sick :(
Bam. Nipped that right in the bud.
VIKARE: ~ Heigh-ho old chum! ~
VIKARE: ~ How fares the winds your way? ~
YOU: Not great. I feel like teeth are growing in my throat and my nose is runny and dry.
VIKARE: ~ Ah, yes, the dentification of the swallow collumn. We've all been there sport chin up.~
VIKARE: ~ And my word guy have I got some advice for you! ~
MSPAR: I think it's just, you know...
VIKARE ~ Hey now chum why the sudden reticence? ~
YOU: The "s" word... you know...
VIKARE: ~ What on Globgolyb's shifting seas man you put that word away. ~
YOU: I'm S
VIKARE: ~Cease this at once. ~
YOU: i
VIKARE: ~ Skies above! You don't have to do this!~
YOU: ck :(
VIKARE: ~You WHAT!~
- VIKARE'S HUSKTOP HAS EXPLODED -
Second time proves the hypothesis.
Zebruh: ♦️ Good evening, my lovely, hornless friend. ♦️
Zebruh: I saw the video of you and the Grandmaster on chitter earlier this evening.
Zebruh: Might I say you managed to look raidant. ♣️ Well, as radiant as one can next to the splendor that is Marvus Xoloto? ♣️
YOU: Gee, thanks for the neg. It's not just my legs that are running...
Zebruh: Ahem. ♠️ Pardon? ♠️
MSPAR: Would you like a sinus infection, free of charge?
Zebruh: Depends, ♦️ which sinus? ♦️
YOU: I'm sick, dunkass
Even though he seems to be feeling particularly conciliatory this evening, Zebruh hasn't responded to you in the twenty minutes that have passed since you dropped the dreaded S word.
But, ah here's the tricky part.
MALLEK: yo;
MALLEK: sup;
MALLEK: hey;
MALLEK: i know you = there;
MALLEK: i can see you through my viewfinder; you really need to update your passwords;
MALLEK: wait;
MALLEK: forget i said that;
MALLEK: you = uh; typing a lot;
MALLEK: i have a keylogger on your palmhusk;
MALLEK: that = less creepy and invasive;
MALLEK: right?
YOU: No, not really.
MALLEK: damn it;
MALLEK: well i can see you through my viewfinder;
MALLEK: and you look different;
YOU: Yeah? Like what you see?
MALLEK: did you secretly start the cyborgization process?
YOU: Yes. That is definitely what's happening.
MALLEK: without me :(
MALLEK: actually can you ignore the frowny face;
YOU: What frowny face?
MALLEK: heh;
MALLEK: so seriously; what = with the new look;
Ah. How do you drop the news without halting this conversation in its tracks?
YOU: Okay.
YOU: Promise you won't freak out.
MALLEK: "freaking out" =! in my vocabulary babe;
YOU: I have noticed that trolls really do not like this word.
MALLEK: uh-oh;
MALLEK: = the word "intimacy" or "self-reflection?"
YOU: Self-reflection is two words, Mallek.
MALLEK: so; who = it exactly that you = getting intimate with;
YOU: Besides you? This box of tissues is really getting a run for its money.
MALLEK: heh; nice;
MALLEK: i usually use a sock;
YOU: OKAY?? That is not what I meant. GOD!
If you weren't flushed already from being sick, you are now.
MALLEK: okay; i = lost now;
YOU: I just want to remind you that "freaking out" is not in your vocabulary.
MALLEK: that = also two words;
YOU: Yes. Glad we're on the same page.
YOU: I am.
YOU: Not.
YOU: Unsick?
MALLEK: what;
YOU: I'm sick, okay?? And I'm miserable and nobody seems to care.
MALLEK: i wish you would have told me;
MALLEK: i could have spent more time with you;
MALLEK: :(
MALLEK: don't ignore that emoji;
YOU: Sad face. Noted.
MALLEK: should i get a hold of that rustie;
MALLEK: you know; the one with the shovel?
YOU: Unless he's the sole provider of benadryl and chicken soup on this planet, I think we can leave Fozzer out of this one.
And like that, the theory is concluded. Mallek does not text you back. You make a few silly faces into the view finder, but even that doesn't entice him to talk to you.
Frowny face. Not noted. Sigh.
___
You only realize you've been dozing when a knock at your door wakes you up. The fatigue is like a physical thing, a weighted blanket sewn into your body.
The knocking is mostly a formality; each strike against the wood pulp sends the door rattling forward a few centimeters. This unexpected guest must be a friend.
But, as you open the door, a scream builds up in you so intense that you just. Scream. There's nothing poetic about it. It's been a long time since you've seen ET, but you do know "aliens" and "the dominant population, now in a hazmat suit" is never a meet cute.
"Who is in here!" you shout on instinct. You grab a paper cup of water and throw it at the intruder. It splashes harmlessly against their hazmat suit.
"Whoa! Hey!" calls a muffled but distinctly masculine voice from within. It gives you pause for all of about five seconds; why do they sound so familiar? Until the six foot long forceps come out.
"Get the hell," you pause to wipe your runny nose on your sleeve, and then cough for good measure, "away from me!"
It doesn't work; the forceps are headed your way. They grab you expertly by your midsection, you you simply flail around until you flop on the ground. Like a rabid fish out of water. The intruder gets in your space. You stick your middle finger up at them.
Then you kick them square in the belly.
They makes a noise like "oooaauuugh," and then "damn, you kick hard. It's me!"
Mallek unzips the front of his ventilation hood; beneath he is wearing an n-95 mask with the zig-zag of scorist. How did he get that on such short notice?
"What are you doing here?" you ask as he zips his hood back up. If you weren't out of breath from your stuffed up nose, you certainly are now after the fucking alien escape olympics.
"If I tell you, promise not to kick me again?"
"No," you say through a wry smile.
"Well then, maybe this will explain it." He sets down a lock box of some sort, roughly the size of a six pack. He fiddles with the top for a moment before it lets out a beep, and then the lid opens with an outpouring of steam. He takes the forceps again, uses them to remove the contents, and then sends them your way.
A perfect, plastic bowl of chicken soup, a two pack of pink and green sludge that you suspect is Alternian day and nyquil respectively, and a cellophane package of spoon, salt, and pepper is thrust your way.
"I'm the sole provider of chicken soup and benadryl on this planet," Mallek says, full of lumpy pride in his ill fitting hazmat suit.
Oh, he wasn't freaking out because you're sick. He's freaking out because he isn't 100% your sole provider, and also anxiously desperate to prove how much you need him.
"Nerd," you say, throwing the cellophane wrapper at him. It sails about two inches through the air before floating pathetically to the fround.
Well, shit. You're floating pathetically down, too.
You eat your chicken soup on the group, Mallek hovering over you from six feet away. Every cough and sniffle sends him lurching for the door; you make sure to do it as often as you can.
About halfway through your soup, Mallek asks, "are you going to die?"
The only part of his face you can see are his eyes, as large and shiny as porcelain plates.
Only Mallek can out-drama you regarding your own illness.
"Yes," you say. His face crumples even as you smile.
"Is the soup helping? I made it myself."
"Hm," you slurp your way through a thought. Surely, for all the mess and nastiness in his kitchen, he must have invented some super strain of anti-sickess, alien mold by now, right?
Mallek keeps staring at you with his big ol' eyes.
You smile. "Feeling better already."
#hiveswap#mallek#mallek adalov#mallek x reader#mallek adalov x reader#can you tell i jsut really wanted to write dialogue today?? lol#i did not edit this or reread it or anything so if theres typos lmk
50 notes
·
View notes
Text
Unattainable Part IV (Eddie X Theater Girl From School)
I know other people write different stories at different times. I promise I will do that. I'm just extremely invested in Eddie and Theater Girl. Lol. That both deserve to be happy. I would have loved having someone like Eddie in my life when I dealing my own BS.
Warnings: Adorable and caring Eddie Munson. Theater girl has a drunk mom who is mean as hell. She's also dealing internal anxieties.
Word Count: 2,535
“That is amazing! I’m really proud of you! Ooooooo!”, the sound of Eddie strumming his guitar nonsensically reverberates through the phone as he enthusiastically continues to shout his praises. “So, when is the play again? I need to check my calendar to make sure I’m available.”
“Oh,” I reply in a sarcastic tone, “ok. I know how busy your schedule can get between selling pot to cheerleaders and playing your guitar on the floor until 2am on a weekday.” He laughs as he strums his guitar again. “It’s in March. Right before spring break.”
“Cool. Cool.”
There’s a calm silence as the excited energy dies down. I can hear him start to strum the first few notes of song but I’m not quite sure what it is.
“You don’t have to come. I mean if you don’t want to. It’s fine if you can’t make it.” I regret it as soon as the words come out of my mouth.
There’s the sound of feet shuffling on his end and the light bump of him hanging his guitar back up on the wall. “Why wouldn’t I come? You worked really hard to get the part. Plus, maybe I can get you to autograph the paper thing they give out before the show.”
“The program?”, I giggled. “Or booklet. Paper thing works to.”
I can hear him open his window as he huffs out smoke. “Yeah. That thing. I don’t have an autograph on any of my other ones so…”, Eddie’s voice starts to trail off.
“Other ones?”
“Yeah. The…uh…other programs…from the other plays you did.”
“You actually went the other plays?”
“Look, Mrs. Rivers said we could get extra credit if we went to see the school’s production of Hamlet and wrote about it. As I’m sure you’re well aware, I need all the extra points but it doesn’t matter because here I am 2 years later but whatever! I DID try and I DID buy a ticket. You were the lady. The one that dies.”
“Ophelia”, I say trying to hide the smile that’s slowly spreading across my face.
“Sure. I don’t fucking remember.” He cackles making me laugh as well. “But I do remember you were wearing this pretty blue, long sleeve dress. Your hair was kind of pulled back but still down around your shoulders. Every time you walked around; it was like you glided.” He paused at that moment. I wasn’t sure if he was waiting for me to say something. I didn’t even know what to say.
For the past few nights this week Eddie and I had been having these telephone conversations. We would talk about music and movies. I told him about my audition and he even let me practice a few times with him. He told me about school, Hellfire, and even made a feeble attempt to explain D & D to me. This is the first time since our first conversation that he spoke like this. The problem was I couldn’t understand why anyone would put in that kind of effort for me. What was even scarier was how much I enjoyed it; how much I just enjoyed talking to Eddie in general. When will it all start falling apart?
The sound of his window slamming shut brought me back to reality. “After that I started going to any play that you were in. My favorite was”, his voice gets deep as he begins to sing, “I’m siiiiiiiiingin’ in the raaaaain.” We both laugh. “You were the girl that couldn’t sing. You were hysterical!”
“Ha! Lina. Yeah, I can’t sing to save my life!”
“Well, I think you’re an amazing actress.”
The grin on my face gets wider. “Thank you. I wish I had known I had a stalker for 2 and a half years. Would have really boosted my confidence.” I roll over and look at the clock. “Eddie, it’s almost midnight.”
“I know. It’s early.”
“No, dork. I mean it’s late. We have school and then I have a date with some weird metalhead guy tomorrow.”
“Oh no. Not a metalhead! Those type of freaks are the worst. Do you want me to scare him off for you? I’ll already be in my camouflaged outfit since I’m stalking some actress tomorrow night so he won’t see me comin’!”
I giggle again as I lean over to turn of the lamp on my bedside table.
“Can we talk for a couple of minutes longer?” he asks.
“Sure.”, I say groggily; laying my head on my pillow.
#################
I wake up the next morning with the phone still in my hand near my face. On the other end I can hear Eddie’s heavy breathing. I don’t remember when I feel asleep but knowing what I’ve learned about him so far, I definitely crashed first. My stomach fills with tiny butterflies as I lean over to hang up the phone.
The rest of the day goes by much too slow for my liking. I was always checking the clock waiting for it to be 4 so I could go home and start getting ready. During lunch, I walked by the cafeteria to see if he was there. I thought maybe if I just saw him, it would make the rest of the day more bearable. Peaking my head in through the door, the first group I see are the band kids near the cafeteria stage that is normally used for school assemblies which is code for Principal Higgins getting all the grades together to convince us to “just say no” to drugs. My eyes scan further into the room making note of the of the usual cliques. I see the jocks near the back wall with Jason Carvor at the head of the table. Ugh. I’ve never understood why he’s so popular. The kid is an asshole who can barely make a basket. I guess it helps when your dad makes a lot of money and has provided “charitable” donations to the town.
Suddenly I feel something small bump into me pushing me slightly forward.
“Oh my gosh. I’m so sorry! I wasn’t paying attention!” Chrissy Cunningham reaches out with her small hands and places them on either side of me as if she’s trying to hold me steady.
“No. No. Its ok, Chrissy.” I laugh awkwardly. “Honestly, I’ve bumped into so many people lately I’m starting to think I’m turning into Sue Storm.” She looks at me with this polite grin; nodding her head. She has no idea what I’m talking about. “Sue Storm. Comic book superhero who turns invisible. My stepsister is obsessed so whenever my dad makes us talk…”, I notice her big eyes start to glaze over. I shake my head and reach out to lightly tap her arm. “…Anyway, never mind. No, I’m fine. You…go enjoy your lunch.” I don’t get how people say I’m a good actress but I can’t manage to act normal in front of other people.
“Ok. Again, I’m really sorry.” She paddles off quickly towards her table. I run my hands over my face wishing I could just disappear. Thank God Chrissy is as nice as she is but I don’t think I could have been more awkward. As I turn to head for the library, my eyes meet Eddies. He’s sitting a far off table with the kids I saw him playing D & D with. The are shouting over each other debating about moves and monsters. He’s leaning back in his chair, his arms crossed, with an amused smile on his face. Had he seen my exchange with Chrissy? Oh no. I’m going to go die of embarrassment now. I gave him an exasperated, small smile in return. His grin grew as he looked at me and silently mouthed the word “Stalker” following it up with a wink. I rolled my eyes; giving him a tiny wave as I turned to leave.
###########
“You got this. You got this. You got this.” I chant to myself in my vanity mirror. I decided to dress as normal as possible while still looking “date nice”. I went with my regular jeans and some knee-high, black leather boots. I found one of my dad’s old blue jean jacket vests and slinked it on over a black tank top with my hair pulled back into a tight ponytail.
“Wow. Where are you going all dressed up? I mean if that’s what we can call this.”, my mother gestures with her hand my way. I closed the cap to my lipstick, giving myself one final look in the mirror. I got this. I can do this. Getting out of my chair, I walk over to my bed, and grab my bag hurling the strap over my shoulder. My mom is leaning against the doorway of my bedroom; glass of vodka clinking in her hand. I check the clock (5:54pm) and start to make my exit out of the room. She doesn’t move out of the way and instead just lifts the glass to her lips.
“I asked you a question.” she sneers. I push past her making my way down the hall and down the stairs. She follows me down, right on my heels. “Look! I’m just asking as a concerned parent. Can’t a mother inquire where her kid is going on a Friday evening?”
I turn sharply to face her. “Yes, a mother can but a mother is also present the other 6 days out of the week so,” I shrug my shoulders at her as I make my way towards the front door. “I’m going out because I’ve earned it. Between school, theater, taking care of myself AND YOU; I think I’ve earned some fun.”
She glares at me as she finishes off the glass in her hand slamming it down on the kitchen counter. She casually saunters towards the front door and opens it for me. A van slowly pulls up out front and I can see Eddie in the driver’s seat. He unbuckles his seat belt and I quickly push past the screen to get to his car before either of them notices each other. I’m not that lucky.
I quickly opened the car door myself. Eddie hadn’t even made it around to my side before my mom shouts my name. “Hey! Whatever fun you decide to have tonight. Make sure to wear protection. That’s how your father and I wound up with you and we all know that story ended!” We both froze and my eyes squeezed shut. One thing. I just wanted one thing for myself.
I didn’t open them again until I felt the vans door open a bit and a large hand grab my own lightly prying it from the door handle. “Ok. Come on. Let me help you up here.” Eddie’s soft voice whispered delicately. I pushed against his hand and steadied myself up into my seat. He double checked to make sure I was inside and shuts the car door with a loud thud. I kept my eyes focused on the windshield. I couldn’t let my mother see me cry. I couldn’t let anyone see me cry. I couldn’t let anyone know I was vulnerable because if they did… I shut my eyes again holding back any on slot of tears. Because if they did, they would think I’m weak.
#######
Eddie didn’t say anything after we left my house nor did he try and force me to. It was a few minutes before I was able to actually look at everything including Eddie himself. He was had on his same cut up jeans and army style boots but he was wearing a plan black shirt instead of the usual Hellfire or rock band memorabilia. Over that he had on a leather jacket that fit perfectly around his broad shoulders. He smelled a bit like he tried to cover up his usual smoke smell with cologne but he didn’t quite succeed which made me grin to myself. I like the cigarette smell to be honest. I lean over and put my hand his shoulder lightly tugging at the leather.
“If I had known you were going to wear this, I would have worn those matching leather pants.” I said trying to hopefully reclaim the evening. Eddie quickly glanced at me, smirking, turning his attention back on the road.
“You’re halfway there with those boots so close enough.”
“How far out of Hawkins is this place?”
“Not to far. Maybe another 10 minutes or so.”
“Oh cool. Why this place in particular?”
“Well, for starters not many people from Hawkins are there so no one’s walking around screaming freak at me every time they pass.”, he says a bit sullenly. I wouldn’t have guess things like that would bother him. He always seems so confident. “Also the bartender there doesn’t card so bonus!”, his face lighting up again, “Plus the bands are alright. I’ve played here with my band Corroded Coffin a few times.”
“Let me guess. Guitar?”
His hand comes up towards my face as he wiggles his fingers in my direction. “Beautiful and psychic! Ooooooo.” I giggled, playfully swatting at his hand. He placed it back on the steering wheel as our laughter died down back into silence. “You do look gorgeous, by the way.”
Before I can say anything, we turn into a parking lot. “And here we are!”, he playfully exclaims swiveling the van into a vacant parking spot. Eddie unbuckles his seat belt and quickly shuffles around to my side to open the door. He extends his hand for me to take.
“M’lady.”
I reach for it jumping down towards the gravelly concrete. “Why thank you.” I say giving him a curtsey.
“Oh, my lady,” his eyebrows furrow as he saunters over till he’s directly in front of me. “You bow to no one. You are royalty and deserve to be treated as such.”
My eyes lock with his. I search through them for any sign of reason. Why me? What did I do to deserve this? Maybe it’s too good to be true? People like this aren’t real. Maybe I should enjoy it while it lasts but am I prepared to be hurt like that again. All I am met with is sincerity.
As if another force has taken over my body, I lean forward and wrap my arms around his waist, hugging him tightly. I can tell I’ve thrown him off guard because his hands fly upwards in confusion. With everything going on in my life it was nice to not feel like a burden on someone for once. Even if it IS for a short time, I needed Eddie to know how important this was for me and the only way I could think of at the moment was this.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
Slowly, I feel his arms come down around me; one arm wrapping around my waist and the other around neck. His hand delicately but firmly holding my cheek to his chest as his chin comes down resting on the top of my head. For the first time in a long time, I feel safe in every meaning of the word.
#eddie munson#eddie fanfic#stranger things#joseph quinn#eddie munson fluff#i love it#eddie stranger things#joseph quinn stranger things
127 notes
·
View notes
Note
Questions About Creating Your OCs, going with 1, 3, 14 and 19 for Kimon!
:D oooh thank you this was so fun! and also got so damn long lmao
1. What was the first element of your OC that you remember considering (name, appearance, backstory, etc.)?
this is so HARD because kimon is actually a compound of two old rp characters of mine. my very first rp character, siegfried, was an aggressively ordinary and well-adjusted farm boy who is doing the journeyman portion of his apprenticeship to become a carpenter. kimon’s appearance is directly derived from him, and in a way he’s an older siegfried that went through darker shit. as in, they share a certain shounen protagonist vibe. kimon’s namesake is another, later rp character, who himself was a spiritual successor to siegfried! the idea of a field/combat healer who is desperately trying to get away from the circle of violence comes from this proto-kimon.
as you can see, i tend to come up with characters concept first. for kimon too, my first thought was "hey, it would be cool to really fuck around with the idea that a necromancer is just a very late healer. maybe have a healer character who accidentally turns himself undead/into a lich.” then immediately after, if not simultaneously, i smashed old characters together to create a base to add to, haha!
3. How did you choose their name?
so i did not want to reuse the name siegfried, because it’s long and would be shortened to either sieg or fried and i don’t like either of them, and i’m pretty sure i chose it just because learning that nightmare from soulcalibur was actually siegfried was hilarious to me at the time. (i was around 15, it was like… 2007 or 2008?) kimon was the more recent oc that was a closer relative to current kimon, so i went with kimon for him too. i don’t… like the old kimon much, outside of the field healer aspect. it was kind of a rough spot in my rp career. i’m p sure the name came from a random generator, or from some baby name site? i just vibed with it. though… for a while i was worried people would think i just yoinked the final o from kimono. I think there were joking drawings of him in a kimono because of it? anyway. the name also fits the naming language i fucked around with for a while, so that’s why it stuck.
(and yeah it’s pronounced ki-mo-n, stress on the first syllable, because it stems from the time when i was writing exclusively in finnish. idk how else people might be inclined to pronounce it tho? let me know if you read it in a different way!)
14. If you had to narrow it down to 2 things that you MUST keep in mind while working with your OC, what would those things be?
he has literally died and reanimated himself to keep going. to keep protecting and healing those important to him. he will say it’s because he had no other choice due to the circumstances, and yet he keeps destroying himself instead of leaning on others.
under the cool and controlled exterior, this is a short guy who has had to get incredibly tough very young and has since been marathoning Challenges. there’s an Attitude to him. on the anime vs mmo healer spectrum. he’s wayyyyy in the ”get up, you die when i say so” corner. small dog energy, but not the impotent rage type, but the type where you’re scared for your life.
19. What is your favorite fact about your OC?
noooooo i can’t choose! uh, outside of stuff that’s also just some of my favorite story moments/concepts… i’m just really fond of the fact that when he’s using magic, the stronger it is, the more his eyes glow and the more they go from blue to white.
#igotasked#the Need to draw proper ref images of the crew keeps growing#i'm having entirely too much fun
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
OH GOD OH FUCK
Another sexy dream and this time I remember and wrote everything down
I even remember the mystery man's name. FUCKCKCK
Dr.Sterling ( that was his name in my dream vccdfg)
You were a student at a prestigious College. You have graduated a year ago and now you're coming back to your College to attend an event where they will come back the old students as well as welcome in new ones.
The school follows a certain dress code with uniforms that are expected to be worn upon school grounds.
Scrambling to find your old uniform cursing under your breath at the for the mandatory
Cursing louder when your neck scarf was nowhere to be found.
"Fuck it... who would care"
You took your usual seat you're signed one.. a chair with paper stuck to it written with your name is Green ink.
You saw him... short slicked back back light brown and green eyes a man in his mid-30s... yours heart racing. It's him up on the stage wearing his glasses and that face that made him look pissed off constantly
Dr. Steerling a strict rule stickler, with his class being one of the hardest to be in according to the other students. He was also pretty much this University's pride and joy since attended School top of his class and even graduated years early.
And the man you had a crush on since coming here. He was good looking, he was built had a good face is thick and nerdy glasses just made him more appealing to you. To restrict his lessons were hard and his assignments were harder, but he never treated any of his students less than what they were. You are all adults all with your own lives he never questioned further on an assignment missing or late. Students who are suffering in this class he would pull aside and ask if they needed help...
But it was in this class where his stickler nagging self truly came to be. God forbid your textbook that you bought yourself has any creases in it Or if a segment was too easy he would purposely make it harder. Thinking that this would help his students and not have them cry in their dorms trying to figure out to write a paper on quantum theory due tomorrow.
Your eyes met his for Split Second before grabbing and speak into the microphone.
"Welcome new... and returning students, welcome... as you may know this University Prides itself in being..."
Your friend sitting next to you rolled his eyes. "Really... this speech again you have no idea how many times I heard that when I missed homework"
" well that's because you missed so many he stopped thinking it wasn't your fault"
You whispered
At this point Steerling has gotten off the stage and is walking around.
" this isn't High School I don't want to see any unruly Behavior, on school grounds. Those in Violation of this will be punished-"
Dr Sterling goes over every single rule to the new students, solidifying their exact thoughts of what kind of teacher he would be and hoping praying not to have his class later.
During his whole speech you couldn't help but notice how his eyes would wander to you.
After his speech another teacher takes over while he walks with a paper in his hand over to your row.
"Ah ___ good to see you again"
He says handing your piece of paper...
A dress code violation referral, in the classic pink color your friend tried to hold back their laughter.
" when we say full uniform we mean all of your uniform"
Pointing to your neck your scarf being nowhere to be found.
"Come with me, I'll walk you to your car... I need to talk to you"
Uh-oh your heart filled up with panic.
He takes you out of the Auditorium and into the parking lot. " it's been a year"
Your anxiety and fear immediately disappearing upon hearing his now shaky voice.
Sterling clears his throat pushing up his glasses.
" it's been a year since you've graduated..."
You nod.
You're poor ex Professor was sweating trying to find the right words to say
" i-i um... I've wanted to... See you more, outside of school I mean but I never really got the chance to-"
You smile " you were never one for small talk huh"
You kept walking before turning around realizing that he has stopped in his tracks.
He sighs looking at the ground before adjusting his frames his green eyes Pierce into yours
" do you how much I've yearned
For you?"
He says taking one step.
" Surely you noticed how often I looked at you"
Another step.
" the way you would stare off into space staring out the window ignoring my lesson. I would have called for your attention back if you weren't so cute!"
SLAM
He has you pinned against your car feeling himself press against you.
The pink paper that was in your hands now crumpled and crushed.
Sterling stares down at you his glasses sliding off his face. Realizing what he has done
"Oh God...i... I apologize I didn't mean to-"
His tongue immediately invaded your mouth playing and dominating yours his kisses getting hungrier and hungrier. His lips moving in tendon with yours
Abandoning the paper in you wrapped your arms around his neck smashing your lips against his chapped ones seeing his eyes roll back at just your lips broke you with ease you got him onto the nearby grass Thanking yourself for parking so far away from everyone else
His tongue invaded your mouth playing and dominating yours his kisses getting hungrier and hungrier.
You broke the kiss his neat hair now disheveled, his glasses uneven, his dress shirt wrinkled, and his coat stained with grass
"Yes! Yes! Oh Sterling, I've wanted you for so long."
Hearing you mutually confess your attraction to him something with him him broke.
His hand came down under the back of your neck grabbing it pulling you closer and whispering " do you have any idea how Wild you have driven me?"
" ever since you stepped foot in my classroom oh God that perfume I don't know what it is but it made you so irresistible, it was like an aphrodisiac"
His chapped lips bruise yours again
" that sent drove me up the wall every day, ha...ha you're even wearing it now."
Sterling gripping your ass pulls you closer to grind his hips against you feeling his restraining bulge in his pants.
You couldn't hold back a moan at the friction he felt so big against you
At this point the two of you are kissing so hard your lips started to hurt.
" please doctor! I need this I need you please I need you inside-"
You heard him growl at the use of his title like this obediently begging for you to be fucked. Sterling needed you to, needed to bully his cock as deep as he could and fill you up with everything he has.
However they were still in public in the back of the school no less.his hand clapped over your mouth
" orientation is almost over at this point. forget your car, get in mine I'm going to drive somewhere secluded and I am going to take you. do you understand me?"
27 notes
·
View notes
Text
i wanna start off by telling u i am sorry!! i wanna tell u about all this crazy shit in my head, and want to open up and want to talk about my feelings but no matter what, i just cant make out the right words...? like it feels like cant properly put my thoughts and emotions into words i guess??
all i want to do right now is cry and scream and let it all out because its killing me inside. i cant take it anymore. i feel weird. i dont want to do anything. i always feel tired. i dont have any energy. a part of me broken. something is def weighing on my heart. i just feel so fucking suffocated. i feel like i am so far behind in life that i will never catch up. everyone is doing so many things with their lives. and i am just here. i really dont think i can do this its getting dark again. and im afraid. im too tired to carry on. i want MYSELF back bro is that too much to ask for? i deffff know its getting bad because even sleep and music dont help and i feel sick all the time and i just want to disappear. i really feel like there is no happy ending for me . thats why getting through the days is hard rayen i honestly from the bottom of my heart know its all for nothing. u guys are waiting for me to get over it, to finally do something with my life, and i know u guys are getting impatient. but what u guys dont know is that im already gone. i dont like who i am. there is nothing good about me. i am sick of wasting my time. i am worn out. i so fucking tired. the anxiety consumes me at times i feel like i cant breathe i cant think straight intrusive thoughts of self distraction consume my mind i am sooo fucking sick of this version of myself!!!!! im fucking tired of the poor choices i keep making. i truly believe i have hit rock bottom. this is the humblest i have ever been because my ego has nothing to be proud of. i know i knowww it is important to be gentle with myself but its also crucial to be honest. im not taking care of myself. im doing drugs, im on social media all day. i either dont eat healthy, or i dont eat at all. i dont exercise. i watch things that arent positive and go to sleep and wake up late. i am sick to my stomach as i write this. i just want to go up from here because i cant live this way anymore. i dont wanna live this way anymore. but like if you never felt like the way i do right now... the drained , depression . WORTHLESS feeling ... then u cant say shit about me "getting better starts with yourself bs" LIKE UH ? YEAH I HATE MYSELF AND DONT GIVE A FUCKKKKK ABOUT NUN SO WTF DOES THAT EVEN MEAN??? like i honestly didnt even think i would be alive at my age i thought i wouldve been dead by 20 so u can only imagine how lost i feel lol. i dont know what to do with my life and i feel like im just wasting away most days. and i dont fucking know how to fix it. maybe this is my time for me and im supposed to be enjoying it for exactly what it is? like i dunno i just know i always fucking ruin EVERYTHINGGGG . i casually sabotage all my positive relationships with negative delusions because my life doesnt feel real unless something dramatic and destructive is constantly occurring. i really want to kill whats inside of my head. i hate living like this day after day. i just want my pain to end bro . i see how everyone looks at me like i’m a burden, how they fake concern only to switch up at me the next second. i don’t want to be this way, im so lost and alone and i just don’t see the point anymore. this is the loneliest i have ever felt. i don't have a shoulder to cry on when im sad, i have got legit no one to go to. i have noooo tears left to cry dude. my heart hurts so much. my insides are burning. i dont know how to help myself. i legitimately try and i make it worse. i wanna scream all this hurt and pain out. can i just lose my memory just so i can take a break from feeling this way? im not sure how long i can handle this alone anymore all honesty .
AND i wouldnt say im "addicted" to drugs and alcohol (JUST YET lol) butttt what i hate about liking them is that once you know how that high feels and the break from reality you get from everything you will FOREVER know how good it felt and thats the problem. u can be days, months, years of being clean. but i know when you quit its gonna be hard years down the road. i would take it alllll back and not start doing any of it. it turns from "just one time trying it" to "i promise this is the last time" but all honestly i dont know how to stop or be normal in this world sober anymore.
and to sum it alllll up i just want / need someone who can hug me and tell me that im not as worthless as i think i am i feel so fucking empty sometimes and its so exhausting to feel nothing and everything at the same time.
#tw depressing thoughts#@hate myself#journal#made with tumblr#sad aesthetic#thoughts#depressing shit#love yourself#sociopath#kill me
2 notes
·
View notes
Note
Do you have any thoughts on what dating Dr Gloria Nathan would be like? Also I love this blog and hope that you are feeling better soon.
Awwww you’re too sweet! Honestly made this page just because I ran out of fanfiction to read so I was like I’ll just keep my fics here. Now I’ve got some regulars who seem to enjoy my work, plus a community of people as stoked on this show as I am. And thank you! Had PT today, which was ROUGH but now I get to write this! 🥹😁
Dating Dr. Gloria Nathan would include…
Oh she’s had bad fucking luck when it’s come to love.
She’s ready. Ready to love with everything she has and then… the rug gets pulled out from under her. Who knows. Maybe it’s just not her thing.
She’s lost a little bit of that bedside mojo working in Oz. So when she’s asked as extra hands at the local hospital, she’s told she’s a little stand offish with the patients.
“Breath in. Breath out. Breath in.”
“Shake it all about?”
Her eyes flit up to see you on the bed, smile on your face.
“Oh, you’re joking sorry. I, uh, don’t get out much.”
“I can see that. Good for my health. Bad for yours.”
She chuckled again. You were funny.
“I knew you were gonna be a good doctor.”
“How so?”
“You were 30 minutes late. I’m not being a dick. My mom always told me be wary of a doctor that’s on time. It means they care about the schedule more than the patients. If someone needs extra care, they get it. I can tell, you’re a good doctor.”
She checked how many painkillers you were on, but found nothing.
“Is this a make a wish clinic? Do I get to make a request?”
“You’re not dying, but sure.”
“One night out with the beautiful but terrifyingly serious doctor? For a dying person’s sake?”
“Again; fractured wrist. Not dying.”
She’s giggling like a school girl by the time she leaves your room. She wonders if it wouldn’t have been a complete breach of protocol to leave her number with you, but shakes it off. She’s a professional.
When you leave the hospital, you wait by her desk.
“Mr/Mrs/Mx L/N-“
“Can you at least let me bring you coffee tomorrow? Or lunch on your break? Just to say thank you.”
“It’s not just a thank you, is it?”
“Nope.” 😇
She doesn’t really expect to see you the next day, but you’re holding eight coffees.
“What happened?”
“I realized I didn’t know how you take your coffee. So I prepared seven alternatives to the black coffee I got you. All the milks and sugars.”
Sister Pete is watching from her desk and can’t help but giggle. Gloria is taken a little off guard.
Somewhere Tim is being mopey because someone else likes Gloria.
“Thank you, you really didn’t have to go through the trouble.”
You smile good-naturedly.
“Not a trouble.”
She smiled at you and tells you she has to go take care of a patient.
“One of those many cups has my number on it. Maybe give me a call?”
She agrees and then continues to work. Her and Sister Pete have lunch together.
“Saw Starbucks came to visit you at work today.”
Dr. Nathan explained the situation.
“He/she/they’re really sweet but… I don’t know. Think I’m a little too uptight for dating right now.”
“I don’t know. Starbucks seems sweet.”
Sister Pete learns your name later but all she calls you is Starbucks.
You text for a little while, her always blowing you off because she’s busy, but she appreciates the good morning texts all the same.
She gets all red faced and bashful whenever she’s complimented.
She’s grown a thick skin in Oz that’s hard to undo.
You show up at the hospital, but she’s back in Oz for the day Sister Pete tells you. You look dejected and just say “oh. Thank you.”
“Why don’t you step back into my office. We can talk if you’d like?”
“I promise I’m not some stalker. We talked and she seemed really nice. I figured if she didn’t have the time I could make it for us. I don’t know. I think I’m just annoying her. I’m gonna stop now.”
Sister Pete listens to you non-judgmentally.
“Tell you what, if you don’t receive a text by tonight telling you that she’s interested, I think you should stop… just let me talk to her first. Figure out what’s going on.”
“You would do that?”
“For you. For her. For a little romance.”💝
You’re about to leave the room when Sister Pete says; “shd likes French toast, fluffy cats, and the beach.”
Sister Pete makes good on her word to talk to Gloria.
“I talked to Starbucks today.”
“He/she/they were here?”
“Yup. Asking about you. Wondering if they should stop pursuing you before they annoy you.”
Gloria thinks for a second. She feels badly for you, really. She does like you; the kind eyes and the jovial personality.
“Why are you dragging your feet? I can tell you care about him/her/them.”
“Since my husband-“
“And Tim and O’Reily. I know, Gloria. You’ve had terrible luck. But it’s never going to get better if you don’t take some chances.”
She thinks about what Sister says all day. All night. You get a text at two in the morning.
Hi, Mr/MrsMx L/N. I’m sorry I’ve been so aloof. I’d like to have dinner with you tomorrow if it’s not too much of a trouble.
You respond with this:
She didn’t stop laughing for twenty minutes.
You to to the diner Tim took her to.
She always gets French toast. Has a love for it but hates cooking. She gets powdered sugar and blackberries on top.
You rapid fire questions to get to know her. Her small talk is crap.
She likes berry flavored anything. Gets way too into watching Judge Vonda B. She also loves swimming.
You ask what her favorite flavor of milkshake is. She thinks for a second.
“Orange dreamsicle.”
You surprise her with one on her shift the next day.
She finds she really enjoys being at around you. You seem to genuinely care about her.
It takes her a while to talk about herself without prompting. She’s just generally very closed off.
When you guys do go out, she prefers smaller things.
Wine tastings, cafes, book stores.
She prefers just spending time around you, not necessarily the whole city.
You find out she likes having sweet snacks while she works. Sister Pete lets you into her office one day in secret.
When she comes in the next day, her desk if filled with treats.
Pulparindos, pelon pelo rico, and revocladitas (watermelon, her favorite)
The Latinos are jealous lol
Murphy and Tim tease her a little for being so smitten.
When you come to pick her up from work one day, you meet them, Tim being a little bitter about losing Gloria.
“Wow, Gloria, it’s like they’re your boyfriend/girlfriend/partner.” -Tim teases.
Gloria looks at him, and then at you, and smiles:
“Yeah, I guess he/she/they are.”🥰
You love seeing her work; she’s so passionate.
You deal with a few O’Reily jabs here and there
After a while, Gloria is able to talk about what happened to her. With Keenan.
You hold her as she cries and tell her she’s safe.
She really does feel safe with you.
Everyone at work notices her smiling more, that broken look in her eyes is gone. 😄
You learn she’s not bad at cooking, but she hates it, so you cook often.
She likes to watch you cook as she does her work at home.
She’s stupid for the Harry Potter series. Remembers reading them as she was getting her doctorate.
(Not so much after Joann’s newest rants but that wasn’t really known in the early 2000s.)
She likes to marathon the movies.
You find her novelty food like the Bertie Bots every flavored Beans, chocolate frog, popping chocolates.
She enjoys them all, especially when you dress up in your house robes for her.
She’s a Ravenclaw. All the way.
She likes gardening. Keeping a small tomato and cucumber garden. She grows MASSIVE cucumbers.
“Hey, we need to talk, Y/N.”
You get nervous.
“I just… I mean, I’ve said these words so many times I didn’t think I could still mean them. I love you, Y/N.”
You actually do dance in front of her this time. 😁
She’s a very good domestic partner. Always helps around the house no matter how tired she is.
You get married, because you decide together to get married.
She still plans a proposal.
Something small and personal.
She takes you to a secluded spot in the city. A rooftop of her old building, in her old neighborhood.
You watch the sky together, counting the birds and planes overhead.
“My life is better with you. I hope yours is better with me.”
The ring is simple. Just a band and a stone, but the stone is bright yellow like the sun. It’s a gorgeous ring.
The wedding is with all of the Oz crew. Sister Pete and Mukada congratulating you. Murphy making Tim not act like a mopey asshole the whole time. Howell is raiding the bar.
You adopt a cat together afterward. A beautiful rag doll cat that becomes your baby (even though you adopted older because Gloria said it wasn’t too late for anyone to find love)
Her/his name is Maria/Peter.
(For obvious reasons lol)
She speaks in Spanish to her little baby doll.
“Thank you, Y/N, for everything.”
“Te amo.”
“Te amo, Y/N.”😘
Bonus: You get Christmas sweaters to match every year. Usually with one half of a joke on one, and the other half on the other. No one can deny you’re a cute couple. ☺️
#hbo oz#oz meme#gloria nathan#awwwww#she got some happiness#I know I’m way too sunshine and rainbows for this show#but it makes me happy to give characters a happy ending
1 note
·
View note
Last Seen Blogs
genericnam
GenericNam
ooglywooglies
silent hill 2
trashhole
My State Of The Art Trash Heap
medardocevallosucg-blog
MEDARDO CEVALLOS
incandcscent
𝖇𝖚𝖗𝖓 / 𝒷𝓇𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 .