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ronearoundblindly · 1 month

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Hideout (Interlude)

touch-starved!Nomad Steve Rogers x motel employee!reader (see series)

Written for @whiskeytangofoxtrot555's birthday from her premise ask 💜 but also serves as a wee prezzie for @blogbog710, @targaryenvampireslayer, @navybrat817, and (belatedly) the lovely @ellethespaceunicorn! (What the heck is in the water?? So many bdays I didn't know about!)

Summary: Your birthday ritual is interrupted.

*You do not need to know anything about this series to enjoy this blurb.* Warnings for suggestive eating, a sweet kiss (literally), cuddling in minimal clothing, but otherwise, just fluff and feels! WC 1.2k

Of course, you don’t always do this. Sometimes you’re out with friends. Sometimes your parents make a huge deal out of late dinner. Sometimes you draw the short straw and have to work the front desk, but not tonight.

The searing red of the digital clock counts down for you (or up depending on how you look at it). Soon—very soon—it will be midnight, and you can wish yourself the first ‘happy birthday.’ To some that might seem sad, but it’s become a ritual of you putting yourself first. Birthday parties may be for children but celebrating YOU should never go out of style.

The red flickers. New numbers. New you. Older, wiser, and alive. It’s a beautiful thing.

Your eyelids fall heavy after your long soak in the tub, the lingering scent of the bubblebath still warm on your skin. You’re content and tired. You hum as a smile tugs the corners of your mouth.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Why you aren’t startled is a hope you don't admit aloud, a greedy, gluttonous vice that piles on to a reality you cannot share with a single living soul except…

Steve Rogers, the fugitive Captain America, crouches outside your window, nimble and stealthy, having climbed to the slant of roof without you noticing.

But you wished for him. You always wish for him to come back.

Your smile grows as you slide off the edge of your bed and press your hand to the pane of glass. He mirrors the gesture, unhurried, soft. It’s just a moment more before you lift the latches and invite him in.

Whispers of ‘hey’ are exchanged while Steve crawls through, but he only answers your surprised “what are you doing here?” with a kiss to your forehead and a long hug.

You taught him how to hug like that. He's taken it to another level as anxiety melts out of you faster than it did in the bath.

His warm skin smells of pine and leather, likely from wearing his decrepit Cap suit to sneak around the woods behind your house. It fits his mountain-man vibe these days--full beard, hair curling beneath his ears, desperate loneliness he uses you to brighten.

You're not sure Steve comprehends how much light he brings to your life in return, but you soak up what you can.

He stands tall, still grinning, and drops a small, structured backpack to the floor. From it he pulls a pastry box, a little pack of candles, and a lighter. He goes through the entire process of preparing your cupcake in his palm before stretching out his hand.

The tiny, flickering flame shimmers in his twilight eyes.

“Happy birthday, Tops.”

As you gently take your treat, it occurs to you that you’ve never told Steve Rogers your birthday.

“How did you know?”

Technically, the question is casual, but you’re still curious.

His eyebrows shoot up, dramatic and comical shadows cast across his handsome features.

“Well, see, in my…position—” Wax drips onto the towering icing while Steve rubs his neck, guilty and avoiding your eyes. “I have to take certain…precautions, and I was just—”

“Did you look me up? Online? Do some research, huh? Check up on me?”

You’re teasing him, but it is fun to see the huge man kneeling at your bedside squirm. His blush is crimson in the candlelight.

You poke his burly shoulder. “You were checkin’ me out…”

“It’s not like that,” he whispers. “Anyway, make a wish, birthday girl.” Steve pushes the cupcake higher in your hold, encouraging you with a wry smile.

Your breath is swift and precise, your desire so clear at the forefront of your mind that picking a wish—another wish, since he’s already here—takes no time at all.

Steve maneuvers himself to sit up on your bed, pulling you to into his lap.

“Good surprise?”

“The best,” you whisper.

You remove the candle and hold the bottom to Steve’s lips. “Lick.”

He sucks off the icing slowly, keeping his eyes locked with yours.

You playfully run your finger through the frosting and taste it, too. If you ever told him your favorite cake flavor, you can’t remember that either, but he clearly knows.

“Tasty?” he asks, a swipe of his tongue wetting his lips.

“Uh-huh.”

You take another dollop and offer your finger to him.

He chuckles. “It’s all yours. I’m not fond of super-sweet things.”

“Oh?” You let the whipped, buttery sugar dissolve in your mouth, thinking. “You’re fond of me, so…are you saying I’m not sweet?”

Your concern is overly dramatic, but Steve stares, biting his bottom lip. “No.”

“Then what do I add to the flavor?” You pull down a corner of crimped paper to try the cake itself. He’s still pondering when you clean lingering stickiness off your thumb.

“Clarity,” Steve finally says. “You offer clarity in a very blurry life.”

His hand on your back shifts to cradle your head, bringing you closer until you’re captured in an intense but chaste kiss. He cups your cheek in his other palm and licks across your sweet lips until you open for him. Steve devours you like you are the real treat, uncaring if his offering splats on the floor. It’s not on fire anymore, so who cares?

Something else occurs to you, jolting you to break away.

“How long can you stay?”

Steve pets down his beard, restarting his brain. “Till morning, I guess, but then I should go. I don’t want to ruin any of your other plans.”

Unbidden, you inhale swiftly and are overtaken by a yawn.

He’s wildly amused by that. “Tired, Tops?”

“No,” you lie, feeling another one coming on. “If I eat the rest of this, I’ll have energy.”

“Or—“ Steve plucks the confection away before you can slam it in two bites flat “—you can finish this for breakfast and get some sleep.”

You whine in protest because every minute you sleep is a minute with him wasted. He senses exactly that.

“I promise to stay right here all night. Come on. Get comfy.”

He repackages your cupcake to keep it fresh while you crawl into bed. You’ve never seen Steve have to remove his suit, and to watch, it looks tedious and involved.

“Took a second to master, I tell ya,” he mutters once the top is off.

Another minute and he’s shuffling under the covers beside you, aligning his body to snuggle yours, keeping you facing him.

Again his hand finds your cheek, his thumb brushing across your skin gently. He’s purposefully lulling you, placing the most delicate kisses over your forehead, his beard tickling your nose and making it scrunch up.

“Sorry,” he breathes.

You tilt upwards to steal the apology right from his lips. Usually, your time together is dictated by his needs, even if he doesn’t ask for the attention. It’s uplifting to have no worry of caring for him explicitly. This is just you with him, zero pressure, tons of love, nothing between.

“Hey, Steve?”

You wait for the deep rumble of a hum from his chest

“Thank you. I don’t think I ever said that.”

He smiles against your mouth, breaking away with a swift double peck.

“My pleasure, sweetheart.” He pulls you flush to his chest, sighing happily when you toss your leg over his hip. “Happy birthday,” Steve whispers into your hair. “Thank you for letting me in.”

You fall asleep with him everywhere, in your arms, in your lungs, and in your heart. Your wish is that he never leaves, and for tonight, he’s doing the best he can to make your every wish come true.

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses

@jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @brandycranby @buckysprettybaby

@late-to-the-party-81 @bigtreefest @mistressmkay @astheskycries

@rogersbarber @blogbog710 @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes

@mrsevans90 @lemonadygirl @umadirectioner @mrschandlerbing @as-white-as-snow-love

#steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #nomad steve #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x female reader #steve x reader #hideout series #touchstarved!Steve #touchstarved mc #captain america fanfiction #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain america fluff

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amuyyi · 3 months

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recess .

synopsis; you were an ideal student. obedient, quiet, educated, and experienced. oh haewon was not. immature and childish, yet still above you academically and with everyone wrapped around her finger. everyone except you. you refuse to be reeled in by her natural charm and hope to make it out of this project alive, with or without her.

trope; non idol!haewon x fem!reader, sort of academic rivals to lovers, uni au, fluff,

wc; 5.1k

cw; some swearing

a/n; just wanted to write something a little silly :3 seeing haewon with kids is so </3 didnt proofread again and im zzzz

“… and Song y/n, your partner will be Oh Haewon.”

“WHAT?!” A pair of shrill voices rang out throughout the classroom, causing not only the students but also the professor to jump at the sudden sound.

You wildly grip at the pen within your hand, the plastic material beneath your fingers creaking and threatening to break at any second. No. There's no way you’re paired up with her.

Oh Haewon, second year university student, business major, and the bane of your existence.

She is loud, immature, annoying, always out partying, a chronic class-skipper, never pays attention during lectures, and never actually talks about the material during discussion. She claims that everything she does is a form of “networking,” but you don't buy it. It's all just an excuse to keep on slacking off. Despite this, almost everybody who came across Oh Haewon’s path practically fell in love with her at first sight.

Everyone except you.

The worst part about it all? Was the fact that she was seemingly the best performing student out of all the classes you two ended up taking together. She somehow managed to even beat you. No matter how good you do during exams or projects, or how long you dedicate to studying, Haewon always manages to get a higher score. You don’t think she even studies!

You, Song y/n, were a perfect student. Business major, second year, and valedictorian of your graduating high school class. You were quiet, but confident, you always turned your assignments in on time and dedicated many hours of rigorous study time for all of your classes. You held a paid internship on campus as well as an executive board position within a business club on campus and a volunteer organization as well. The odds were entirely in your favor.

Your horrified gaze slowly shifts towards the other girl from across the room, who sat in her seat with her hands dug deep within her dark bobbed hair. Seems like Haewon wasn't all too fond of the idea of being your partner either.

Timidly raising your hand, you try to speak up, try to fight for better treatment for you and your sanity, but the professors ice cold glare cuts you off as he speaks,

“As of now, partner assignments are final. If there are genuine issues between partners that hinder either one's ability to create an effective marketing strategy, come to me in a week. No sooner. I specifically hand picked your partners for a reason.”

You silently slump back down into your seat, defeated, and you can hear a faint thump from across the classroom. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Haewon’s face buried within her desk. Must’ve slammed her head into the table at the news. You would have done the same if you cared as little for your image as Haewon did.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

The sound of snickering and nails quickly tapping against a phone screen was all you could hear within the silent study room. Your eyebrow twitches irritably as you try to focus on the powerpoint slide in front of you, but the words on the screen seem to melt into one another as you hear the girl slam her hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh.

Unable to subdue your temper, you slam your laptop screen shut, the sound bouncing off the rooms walls as Haewon jumps within her seat, nearly dropping her phone as she stares at you with comically wide eyes.

“Are you serious right now, Haewon? I haven’t even seen you actually add anything to the presentation since we got here.”

The shorter girl rolls her eyes as she leans back in her chair, avoiding your gaze as she responds, “We already established who’s doing what, I can just do it later,” She shrugs, and the careless sight irritates you to no end. “You do the more technical stuff like research, budgeting, or whatever, while I do the stuff that actually matters like target audience analysis and promotion– ‘cause I highly doubt you know how to actually charm potential investors with that stick up your a–”

Heat rapidly rushes to your face as you lunge forward across the table, hand slamming onto the table as you stick your finger in Haewon’s face to cut off her sentence. “That is just… So… Disgusting!! How can you even speak to me like that?!”

You knew how to socialize and talk to people…! It's just that nobody ever wanted to stick around, that's all… And you preferred it that way, actually. Nobody can drag you down if you simply stick to your numbers and graphs, no people involved.

Haewon snickers at your response as you sit back down, rubbing your temples as you try to steady your breathing, a bit embarrassed that you allowed yourself to snap like that in front of her of all people..

“Look, if you were just going to do it all at home, why are you still here?” You try to speak in a neutral tone, but it was difficult to remain composed after your outburst. You can feel your eyebrow twitching once again as you speak.

A sinister smirk forms on her lips as she finally looks you in the eye. “‘cause I know it pisses you off.”

You have to firmly bite the inside of your cheek to the point where you worry about drawing blood in order to hold yourself back from tackling this girl and beating her to a pulp right then and there. Taking a deep breath, you simply open your laptop and get back to organizing the format of the presentation in silence. Fine then. She can go on and be that way and be uncooperative. What did it matter to you? It seemed like you had to do most of the work, as always. From above the top of your laptop, you can spot Haewon rolling her eyes once again and resume texting whoever may be taking her attention away on the phone.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Unfortunately, Haewon was not as incapable as you expected her to be. She actually put some effort into her parts of the project, and they were actually pretty good. She knew exactly what people wanted, and even proposed ideas you never would have thought to be effective on your own. Haewon was a people’s person, and people with that kind of natural charm make it far within the world of business. Asking to change partners would prove inefficient for you.

You’d never tell her that to her face though.

For the rest of the month, you and Haewon had come to a mutual agreement. Meet once a week on Wednesdays, around 2-4 PM at the business building on campus. Work on the project, then leave. More often than not, the two of you would work in silence, and you simply chose to not make any comments if she happened to be on her phone giggling to herself during the session. She wasn’t worth it. Besides, you had other things to worry about. Upcoming midterms, exec board event planning, your internship. It was a lot, but you could handle it as long as everything went according to your precise and calculated schedule.

Haewon had been pretty respectful of your established meeting time for the past three weeks, but of course, something had to come up when week four came around. Right when you had another major presentation for your business club to prepare for as well. You had been settled down into the study room you always rented out every Wednesday tapping away at your laptop when your phone vibrated. Unusual. You had do not disturb on.

Oh Haewon [13:55] – hey

Oh Haewon [13:55] – i wont be able to make it to the business building on time today

Oh Haewon [13:55] – i would ask to rain check but i know ull throw a fit bc i ruined ur schedule or sum

Oh Haewon [13:55] – so can u just meet me at the child development lab instead?

… Child development laboratory? Your eyebrows knit together as you stare at the text on your screen. What could she possibly be doing there?

Come to think of it, you don’t really know much about Haewon to begin with. You tried to rack your brain for any information about your class partner outside of the obvious, and… Nothing. You knew nothing of her hobbies, interests, actual activity outside of her public outings. Not that she really mattered or interested you in the slightest, but the idea of simply being out of the loop with someone who played a major part in your weekly schedule made you a bit… Uncomfortable?

Sighing, you begin to pack up your belongings. She could have at least told you this before you already arrived and got settled in the private study room. That's what you get for being 30 minutes early to everything, you suppose. You now either have to move everything in your schedule back, or do a whole revamp of the entire week. You take a breath. It’ll be fine.

If your memory serves you correctly (in which it always does) the next bus that arrives will take you near the lab. An annoyed huff leaves your lips as you zip up your bag. So much for routine.

Your phone rings out one more time.

Oh Haewon [14:07] — skasdkfj apple kjj k

You’re convinced Oh Haewon has officially gone crazy.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

After hopping off the bus and walking in whatever direction Google Maps told you to go, you eventually found yourself at the doors of a building you’ve only ever occasionally passed by on walks. It had a mural of multiple colorful images along its walls, from a giant sun with a smiley face to different kinds of flowers and other doodles scribbled on the brick. Your eyes shift towards the side, where a fenced in play area lay. The sounds of multiple children laughing and screaming made a small smile form on your lips, and you couldn’t help but approach the edge of the fence to watch the young ones play.

You weren’t all too big on kids, more focused on your own academics and staying afloat while in university, but the sight of them still managed to soften your harsh demeanor. They were so innocent and pure, you sometimes wish you could go back in time and relive your childhood once more. You catch sight of a little girl chasing another, flower in hand. The both of them laughing excitedly before one screamed out, “let's go show Haewon-unnie!!”

Haewon-unnie?

Cocking your head to the side in confusion, you watch as the pair of girls scamper towards the wall of the building, where a very preoccupied Haewon remains, squatting down while a horde of children literally climb all over her. One of the kids had a hold of her phone, and another was choking her, his arms wrapped around her neck in an attempt to dangle off of her like some sort of monkey bar.

You would’ve laughed at the sight if it didn’t look like Haewon was on the brink of actually getting taken out by a mass of children.

“Haewon?” You call out.

The smothered girl’s head whips towards the direction of your voice, though she struggled to exactly spot you as one of the little girls started to cover her eyes very aggressively as she begged for a turn to play with Haewon.

“Y-Y/n?” She squeaks out, gently shaking the climbing kids off her as she meets you at the fence, one of the kids in her arms as the rest of the kids flock after her. It almost looked like she was a mother duck with her little ducklings.

The child in her arms was holding a rolled up pillbug, and you find yourself incing away at the sight of the isopod, a bit deterred from bugs. “Hey,” Haewon simply greets, looking a bit exhausted, but you couldn’t tell if it was from the kids or the sight of you.

“Hey…” you greet back awkwardly, looking down at all of the kids by Haewons feet. You had no idea how old they were— honestly you had no idea how kids of specific ages were supposed to look like, but with how these kids were acting, you assumed they were possibly around kindergarten age?

Each and every kid had something very interesting to say.

“Haewon-unnie, can you please play pretend with us? We need a dog!!”

“Haewon-noona, look at this dead mantis I found!!”

“Haewon-unnie, who's that?? She's reaaallllyy pretty !! Can she play with us?”

“Yeah yeah!! Can she? Huh??”

Haewons face immediately flushes red as she uses her free hand to cover one of the little girl’s face in its entirety as she goes, “Hyunjoo, shush!”

You cover your mouth with your hand to hide the smile forming on your lips, “So… Is this what's stopping you from being able to meet today?”

An exasperated sigh escapes Haewons lips as she nods, “I can't leave until one of the workers or researchers on shift turns up and it's been like an hour and nobody has shown.”

A small frown tugs on your lips as you listen to what Haewon has to say, watching as multiple children tug at the hem of her shirt from every direction, and one was even trying to untie her shoe. Haewon looked.. Helpless, albeit a bit desperate as well. None of this was your problem really, worst case scenario you just had to do Haewon’s half of the work that was meant to be completed today. Yet you still find yourself looking between the overwhelmed Haewon and the kids and feel a sense of familiarity towards the circumstance… You can't believe you were doing this.

“I.. Can probably help you out until someone arrives.”

Haewons eyes widen as the kid in her arms tries to feed her the pillbug, in which she arches her head away as she speaks, “Really? I wont be messing up your perfectly punctual schedule you have for today? I bet you had to make some sacrifices to come here.” She teases near the end of her sentence, and you feel your face heating up once again.

“I don't….!” You exhale, “Have a schedule…” You lie through your gritted teeth before shaking your head, “Look, do you want my help or not? The sooner we get this done, the sooner we can get back to–”

“The project, yeah yeah I know. That's all it is with you, isn't it?”

Offended, you open your mouth to retort until Haewon opens up the fence gate to allow you in, immediately sending around two or three children your way, tugging at your hands, shirt, and pant legs as they guide you inside.

“Don’t be too rough with her, guys!”

For the next hour or so, you had learned a lot whilst working with the children at the lab.

For starters, you had learned that Hyunjoo had a crush on Jeonghyun last week, but now has a crush on Hwan after Jeonghyun accidentally spilt grape juice on her dress. Also, Bora and Somin are best friends, but only one of them got invited to Kiwoo’s birthday party on Saturday, so there's some unresolved tension in the air.

Alongside the lives of these children at the facility, you also learned a bit about Haewon.

“Yeah, I spend my free time volunteering here when I don’t have class. There's not a lot of teachers here who research, and there's even less students majoring in child education or anywhere else in a similar, so I figured it’d be nice to help out while my schedule is still free,” Haewon says while sat down in a comically small chair, watching as a small girl pours muddy dirt water from a toy teapot into her even tinier toy teacup.

“A lot of parents within the town need a place to drop their kids off while they work their usual nine to fives, and the children's education department needs all the help it can get. Sometimes I skip class to cover shifts just so these kids aren't alone… And sometimes I just skip because I’m hungover,” she chuckles.

You feel your heart melt a bit at Haewon’s words as you hold one end of a jump rope, aiding the two girls from before in their game. Haewon was actually… Sweet? At least with kids. They all seemed to naturally flock to her, and she had no problem talking and interacting with them in return. You on the other hand were a bit awkward with the kids, but it was alright because kids don’t think anything is awkward at this age. This wasn't the lazy, inconsiderate asshole you’ve been despising for the past year.

Staying silent, you nod as you simply listen to Haewon ramble on, sharing little tid bits and stories of her life you never would have heard otherwise.

“I tried to get my roommate, Jinsol, to join me one day and it went to actual shi– I mean, it went horribly,” Haewon corrected herself with a very indiscreet cough before continuing on, “They all ignored her! When she tried talking to them she made the kids cry. She didn't even do anything and they already didn't like her!” She laughs out as she makes her way to tend to another kid, a little boy latched onto her leg as she goofily limps her way across the playground.

“Still, I’m surprised they like you so much. You’re normally such a stick in the mud. Maybe the kids see something I don't.”

Furrowing your brows, you look back at Haewon, but she was already preoccupied trying to separate two boys that were trying to make beetles fight in a plastic bucket. See something she doesn't? What does she even mean by that?

The children had the both of you running around like headless chickens. A pair of girls wanted to play house with you two, and assigned you and Haewon as “mom” and “dad.” Needless to say, it was awkward, the first interactions between you and the shorter girl being rather stiff and tense– but you also learned that you are actually an incredible child actor once you got into it, and played the role of “mommy” perfectly in (all of) their eyes.

Another pair of boys wanted to use you and Haewon for a piggy back ride race. Apparently, being cooped up inside studying all of the time did not make you the most fit person, and Haewon quite literally left you and your piggyback partner in the dust. You couldn’t be mad about it though, she the kid looked happy.

In due time, a fellow university student finally arrived, apologizing profusely for the tardiness as Haewon simply waves her off, insisting it wasn’t a big deal and she wore out the kids to make things easier for the next shift.

The pair of you wave goodbye to the kids as you close the fence gate behind you, dusting off your hands as Haewon lets out a sigh of relief, taking a moment to relax and stretch as a cool breeze picks up. You decide to close your eyes and take in the peace as well. You don't know when was the last time you really did anything “fun” or even let loose for that matter. The kids were a lot, but it was refreshing. Different.

The sound of Haewons stomach growling breaks the comforting silence, and you open your eyes, looking at the shorter girl with a quirked brow.

“Have you not eaten yet?”

“Ahah… No.” She sheepishly comments, “Normally I grab something to bite between my shift and our study sesh on Wednesday, but I’ve been helping out for hours by now.”

Unexpectedly, a wave of concern washes over you as she speaks.

“It doesn’t matter though, let's find somewhere to finish up the last part of our project and we can finally leave each other alo–”

“You’re going to eat.” The words almost seemed foreign coming out of your mouth, or perhaps they felt that way because you were speaking them to Haewon.

Confused, Haewon stares at you as if you’ve grown a second head. “What?”

“You’re going to eat,” you repeat matter of factly, “You can't focus on the project if you’re hungry.”

Quickly tapping into your phone and looking into google maps, you were quickly able to find a restaurant nearby for the two of you to dine at.

“There's a restaurant about a 10 minute walk away from here. It closes at 7. We’re going.”

Before Haewon can even get a proper response out, you had already grabbed onto her wrist. You really didn’t want to think too hard about what you were doing… What are you even doing? Shaking your head, you drag her down the street, the bob haired girl nearly tripping on her own two feet before she falls in line next to you, just about as confused and unsure as you were.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

The walk to the restaurant was… Fine. Albeit a bit awkward. Haewon wasn’t really expecting you to take her somewhere to do anything but study, and you weren't really expecting yourself to do that either. Apparently Haewon was the type to strike up conversation when things become awkward– unfortunately for the both of you, you were the complete opposite. So for the next 10 minutes, Haewon would make some off comment and you would simply mumble or hum in response.

Soon enough the two of you arrive at the restaurant and its definitely more on the high-end side. Dark yet warm mood lighting illuminated the interior, and the pair of you were seated near a quiet corner of the establishment, a charming bell shaped light hovering above the two of you as you blink. This setup was a bit more… Romantic, than expected; but if the food was as good as the place looked, you decide it was worth looking past.

You were handed menus as well as lemon water, and you peek over the paper to look at the girl across from you.

“Order whatever you want, I'll pay.”

A dry laugh escapes Haewons lips as she places the menu back down on the table, “oh no you’re not.”

Her response catches you off guard, and it 100% was shown in the contortions on your face. You were certain she would have jumped on the opportunity for free food. This girl was simply full of surprises, wasn't she?

“You helped me out today with the kids, I’m paying you back like the gentlewoman I am.” Haewon’s statement was firm, but you were stubborn.

“Oh yeah? With what money?”

“Hey!! I work for my money! You don't know me as well as you think you do, y/n.”

“Uh huh… so tell me then. Who is the true Oh Haewon?”

After placing your orders (you had gotten malatang while Haewon very stubbornly got herself an order of galbi and a strawberry lemonade) Haewon props her elbows on the table, resting her chin on her hands as she smirks, “what do you want to know?”

You guys then proceeded to spend the next two hours eating and chatting. Turns out Haewon wasn't all too bad company when she wasn’t existing to purely spite you. Haewon shared many interesting things about herself, like how she actually doesn’t like drinking at the endless networking parties she attends, or how she was actually fluent in spanish, or how she had no idea what she wanted to do the first year of college, but ended up transferring into business because it was the only thing that simply clicked for her. After some pressure, she even caved in, reluctantly admitting to be… Envious of you?

“Me??”

“Uh, yeah! I mean I do well in my classes and stuff, but you practically reek of academic perfection— it's actually kind of sickening,” she snorts, taking a bite into the meat on her plate as you roll your eyes. “You’re basically every professors favorite ideal student.”

“Me?? The favorite??” You scoff, “I thought you were the favorite! You act out and talk about anything in class and the professors still love you regardless! You get nearly perfect grades on every exam and have a million friends in every department, you don’t even have to try!”

“Seriously? No way. I know I'm funny and all, but I know the professors are disappointed I wasn't involved with any extracurriculars or anything. Probably think I'm wasted potential.”

“Well I know for sure they were concerned I have like, no friends or connections. That's wasted potential.”

“Wait— do you think—“

A moment of realization hits both of you like a truck.

“Ohhhh… that's why professor Wang paired us up.”

“Yup.”

A short pause passes between the two before you snort, holding back a laugh as Haewon giggles, running a free hand through her hair as she shakes her head, “That's so dumb…”

Allowing a comfortable silence to pass, you finish up your food. It was good, and you kept your eyes out for the server to approach so you could pay. Haewon had excused herself to the bathroom, and you paid no mind to it as you absentmindedly scroll through your phone, remaining attentive to your surroundings as you do so.

After a few minutes, Haewon returns, a very untrustworthy smile curled on her lips as you squint at the sight. What is she trying to get at?

“Alright, let's head out!”

You look up at Haewon from your seat in confusion, “but I didnt pa—“

That familiar smug grin was plastered on Haewon’s face again. “I paid for it already.”

“What?! How? When?”

“I didn’t actually use the bathroom.” She snickers while leaning on the table, arms crossed in satisfaction.

Haewon seemed to have more manners than you expected as well, it seemed. She beat you at your own game, as she always seems to do. You’re left there shocked for what felt like a whole minute before you shake your head, chuckling dryly as you get out of your seat.

“Okay Oh Haewon, you win this time. Let's go.”

Haewon wiggles her eyebrows teasingly as she follows you out the doors, “‘this time,’ huh? Are you implying there will be a second time?”

You raise your hand to silence the shorter girl, and she can't help but laugh at the gesture. You bite your lip to hold back your own laughter, but a silent puff of air still manages to escape your feeble attempts.

Her eyes light up as she notices this. “Aha! I saw that! Come on now, y/n. Why are you holding back on me? What? Are you afraid to show any signs you might like me a little now?”

Under normal circumstances, you’d find yourself seething with rage at the other girl's comments. You’d think to yourself: who was she to poke fun at you? She's nothing but rude, childish, and every other insult above. Under normal circumstances, you wouldn’t be allowing yourself to laugh freely into the air, the sky above you and Haewon slowly morphing from blue to orange as you finally release all of the tension pent up within you.

But this wasn’t a normal circumstance. You honestly had no idea how you even really ended up here to be honest. You were supposed to be at home by now, typing away at yet another project for some big club or company in your large sea of responsibilities. Instead, you find yourself walking down the sidewalk on the outskirts of campus with no other than Oh Haewon, your (now seemingly one sided) academic rival, laughing away, and actually thoroughly enjoying her company.

The pair of you find yourselves back at the lab, but the air was quiet this time, the stars above beginning to emerge from the blanket of night. You lean your back back on the fence, arms propped up behind you as you look back at Haewon as she stands in front of you. You weren't that much taller than her, maybe by an inch or so, but the fact that she had to crane her neck ever so slightly in order to make eye contact with you gave you a teeny tiny ego boost.

You can’t believe you were smiling right now, and it was because of the girl in front of you. “Y’know, I thought I had you pegged, but turns out I was wrong. You’re not all too bad when you decide to be.”

Haewon grins playfully back at you, absentmindedly fiddling with her fingers as she nods, “You’re not as prissy and snobby as I thought you were either.”

You simply hum in response, taking a moment to look back up at the stars scattered throughout the sky. If you didn’t go out tonight, you would've missed all of this. You can't remember the last time you actually took a moment to enjoy the night. It was beautiful.

“So… About this ‘next time’ you mentioned…”

Your gaze shifts back down to Haewon, and you notice she's inched closer. Smiling, you remain leaning on the fence, undeterred. “What about it?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, y/n. Are you saying you want to see me again even after this project is done?”

It's finally your turn to be smug. “And what if I am?”

Haewon is caught off guard. “...Then… I would also like that.”

Your smile softens as you take one of her hands in yours. Haewon’s hands were surprisingly small, and also quite soft. You slowly raise it to your lips and plant a soft kiss on the back of it, letting the feeling linger for a moment before pulling away, still holding her hand in yours as you look at Haewon. Her pale skin turns bright red for the second time today. A soft laugh leaves your lips at the sight.

“Cute.”

Unfortunately, your romantic gestures are met with a punch to your side and a flustered groan as Haewon twirls around in an attempt to hide her face. “You really are annoying, you know that?!” She exclaims, already walking in the opposite direction as you chuckle. When was the last time you had fun like this?

“So. Same time next week?” You call out, and you’re very charmingly met with a childish middle finger stuck into the air. With that gesture alone, you already know she’ll make it to the next project meeting right on time.

#kpop x female reader #kpop fanfic #kpop #kpop x fem reader #gxg #gg fanfic #kpop gg x reader #kpop gg #oh haewon x reader #oh haewon x fem reader #haewon x reader #haewon x fem reader #nmixx #nmixx x reader #nmixx x fem reader #Spotify

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peachesofteal · 11 months

Note

Ok but the comic of the fantasy Ghost and Soap got me thinking about Princess Darling 😭

Princess darling who is a war prize for the guys? Who is delivered to them after the sacking of her father’s territory, a last ditch effort for him to save his neck? And they look like this?

18+ MDNI

“Take my daughter.” He wheedles, slick as a snake, eyes wide and desperate as the flick between them and you. “She’s pure.” Your mouth drops open in outrage, heart thundering in your chest loud enough it rattles your ear drums.

“Father-“ The one in the skull mask with a black hood tilts his head at the sound of your voice, towering over you, gloved fingers flexing on the hilt of his sword.

He can’t mean to give you to these men. They’re… so big. And half covered in blood.

“Quiet.” He snaps, silencing your protest. Your eyes find the floor, counting the grooves and ridges of the marble. Your ribs pressurize around your lungs, squeezing, kneading, keeping your breathing too light in your already too tight corset.

“Ye’ve naught been married?” The brown haired one cocks his head with interest, and your knees tremble. You try to look away, escape the burn of his ice blue eyes, intense gaze unwavering as bear down on you, and your cheeks heat beneath the scrutiny.

“P-please. I know she’s older but-“ You want to cry. Scream. You’ve never been married for many reasons. Not that he cares about a single one of them. Not that the health of his daughter, or her feelings, have ever mattered to him.

“That’s enough.” Skull mask says. He looks at his partner, silence louder than a scream. You can only see the one man’s eyes, but they squint for a moment, before relaxing.

And then, he nods.

“We accept.” Your father loosens a sigh, the exhale loud over the echo of your gasp.

“No!” It’s a sputter, desperate and shocked. “No! No, father- you- you can’t!” He can’t. He wouldn’t. Would he? Send you off with these… marauders?

“Be silent.” He whirls, hand darting through the air to grip your upper arm, fingertips sinking into your skin like daggers. The shriek is automatic, half instinct, half muscle memory, and you flinch away, but he doesn’t let go. He digs in, trying to drag you towards the two and you gasp for air, panic cooling your skin and the sweat on the back of your neck.

“Let me g-“ You scream, choke out a half cry, only for it to be stolen from your lips by the swing of a sword.

Blood spurts from your father’s elbow, where it’s been cut clean off, his forearm and hand falling limply away from your body, a ruby red fountain spraying all over your face, your chest, your dress.

Your father howls, hand going to clamp over where his arm is now a bloodied stump. You’re stunned, frozen in time, just watching as he stumbles to his knees, face twisted in anguish.

You’re so distracted, that you don’t even know the blue eyed man has come up behind you, wrapping a thick arm around your waist. You feel his mouth, his breath, ghosting along your ear, warmth tickling your skin as the skull face turns to give him a nod, sword hanging precariously over your father’s bent neck. “Time to go, love. Close those pretty eyes for me now.”

You don’t know why, but you do. You let your eyes slip closed, let this monster scoop you up, let him cradle you to his chest. If you keep your eyes closed, you can just pretend. Pretend this isn’t happening. Pretend it’s not real.

There’s noise in the background, but a big hand covers your ear, pressing you against his leathered armor, right over his heart.

“Good girl, darling.”

#peaches asks #peaches writes #ghoap x reader #soap x ghost x reader #f!reader

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dalishious · 2 years

Text

Catching up with Thedas

We’re getting another time-skip between Dragon Age: Inquisition’s Trespasser DLC and Dragon Age: The Veilguard. Here’s a summary of things that have happened in the supplementary material leading up to this. Obviously, major spoiler warning for everything discussed here.

If this summary intrigues you, I would definitely suggest checking out the full stories for yourself. They’re all great—especially the comics. The characters in the comics are so good and that’s not something you get to appreciate just in summaries.

Major takeaways:

The Venatori are still active, especially in Tevinter, where a woman named Aelia (who is now imprisoned by the templars) took over after Corypheus was defeated and attempted to raise a powerful demon buried under Minrathous. The demon is still resting there, and the remains of the Venatori are still about. Although, the Antivan Crows have been hired to assassinate Venatori agents, and are picking them off one by one

The Qunari are invading the north again, and the following cities have been taken over: Ventus (Tevinter), Carastes (Tevinter), Neromenian (Tevinter), and Treviso (Antiva). They plan to move further into Rivain. However, the Antaam are on thin ice with the rest of the Qun, having acted against orders in the city of Ventus – suggesting there may be fracturing of leadership. This is further implied through the Ben-Hassrath declaring neutrality on the war with Tevinter. At the same time, the Qunari are also searching elven ruins trying to gather information about the Dread Wolf

There is a group of elves known as the Agents of Fen’Harel infiltrated all over Thedas and stirring up shit, including fanning the flames of war between Tevinter and the Qunari

The red lyrium idol has been everywhere, man… It was taken out of Meredith’s statue by the Carta, somehow wound up Tevinter, possessed by House Qintara, where it was traded it for information to House Danarius, where it was then stolen by Cedric Marquette, who gave it to Tractus Danarius, who brought it to Nevarra hoping Mortalitasi would help unlock it, where it was then taken back to Tevinter, only to somehow end up in Solas’s hands

Speaking of red lyrium, guess who is also still active? The red templars. And they are serving none other than an awakened but still crystalized Meredith Stannard in Kirkwall, who is known as “The Crimson Knight” by her followers

All Grey Wardens have been summoned to Weisshaupt for reasons unknown

The Grey Wardens have uncovered the remains of a dwarven thaig called Hormok, where beneath it they found elven ruins with signs it was a place of worship for Ghilan’nain. In these elven ruins, they find a magic pool that turns creatures into spliced-up monsters with parts of different beings melded together. While the wardens destroy this place, there are still eleven others out there somewhere

The Arlathan Forest has come alive with magic, changing place and time within it

Solas is in possession of an elven artifact called “the crucious stone”, with unknown powers

Dragon Age: Knight Errant (9:44)

Vaea is an elven squire to wandering knight Ser Aaron Hawthorne. She is recruited by Charter to rescue Tessa Forsythia and Marius (from the Magekiller comics) from where they were caught on their mission. They were sent by the Inquisition to infiltrate Starkhaven’s palace and steal a book with research on red lyrium in Sebastian Vael’s possession. Vaea successfully rescues them and then steals the book herself, but not without a fight with Cedric Marquette, an Orlesian scholar who is also after the book on behalf of the lingering Venatori. It’s found out from the book that the Venatori may already be in possession of red lyrium, and Vaea offers to go to Tevinter to investigate. Aaron agrees to join her, aware and supportive of her work for the Inquisition.

Dragon Age: Deception (9:44)

Olivia Pryde is a con artist working in Ventus, Tevinter. The city is under high tension because of an imminent Qunari invasion. She pretends to be a Magister investigating Calix Qintara, the son of a reclusive fellow Magister, until it’s discovered that Calix is also a con artist. They try to outdo one another in a con contest against sister and brother, Francesca and Florian Invidus, but both are revealed as liars. In their fleeing, they run into Ser Aaron Hawthorne, who coaxes them into helping with his and Vaea’s mission. Vaea’s goal is to steal the red lyrium that was taken from Kirkwall supposedly held in the Qintara estate. Also ending up as part of their plan is a deal with two Antivan Crows, (later revealed in Tevinter Nights to be Teia Cantori and Viago De Riva). While the Crows create a distraction—though one that ends up with the death of Florian—Olivia and Calix con their way into getting floor plans of the Qintara estate, which Vaea uses to successfully break in. Unfortunately for everyone, Francesca pushes her way through and demands to speak to Magister Qintara to reveal Calix has been posing as his son, only to find out that Magister Qintara has been dead for years, and his former elven slave Gaius has been posing as him in order to collect valuable information to pass on to the Agents of Fen’Harel. Vaea discovers that the vault that was supposed to contain the red lyrium is empty, having already been sold to House Danarius. At the exact same time, the Qunari attack the city of Ventus, throwing their mission into a very time sensitive window to escape. Olivia sacrifices herself in order for Vaea, Aaron, Calix, and Francesca to flee the city.

Dragon Age: Blue Wraith (9:45)

Outside Carastes, which has been overrun by Qunari, Cedric Marquette flees from a chasing squad of them with a strange sarcophagus-like device in his possession that he is taking to Magister Nenealeus, who trains slaves into perrepatae; mage-killers. (He was the Magister who trained Marius.) Also chasing after Cedric is Vaea and her crew, hoping he will lead them to Castellum Tenebris, home of House Danarius, where they want to recover the red lyrium. Francesca leaves the group, and Vaea decides to chase after her to convince her to stay with them. Francesca is told by a family friend that her father was taken by the mysterious Blue Wraith (AKA Fenris). She decides to pursue Fenris and rescue her father in an attempt to prove her worth to him, with Vaea tagging along. They find Fenris, but it turns out he did not in fact take Francesca’s father, but rather her father is working with Magister Nenealeus. Inside the Nenealeus’s estate, they discover it has been overrun by Qunari, and overhear an enslaved elf tell the Qunari that the Magisters plan on using an elven sarcophagus artifact to infuse an elven perrepatae with lyrium. Fenris flips out and attacks, recognizing that they have restored the means of which he was experimented on. Meanwhile, Aaron and co. track Cedric down to his meeting with Nenealeus, and the Magister, realizing they are being watched, uses the sarcophagus on a human slave. The slave goes crazy and attacks Aaron’s party, before exploding. With Aaron’s party as well as the Qunari in pursuit of Nenealeus, Cedric, and Francesca’s father, they launch several more human explosives to escape, but Francesca “rescues” her father. He is furious at her for this, and attacks, forcing Francesca to kill him. Calix realizes he’s not cut out for such death and destruction, and departs from the group. Fenris joins them, and together Vaea, Aaron, Francesca, Tessa, Marius, and Fenris head for Castellum Tenebris.

Dragon Age: Dark Fortress (9:45)

Tractus Danarius, bastard son of Magister Danarius, welcomes Nenealeus and Cedric to Castellum Tenebris, which sits on the outskirts of Neromenian. Nenealeus reveals his plan to infuse the elven perrepatae, Shirallas, with red lyrium, believing he will be so powerful as to drive out the Qunari and then expand Tevinter’s control of Thedas back to the glory days of the empire. Vaea and Fenris capture and interrogate Tractus while the others act as lookout, and gather the information needed. Fenris wants to kill Tractus, but Vaea convinces him not to, as they need to get out of Neromenian ASAP since the Qunari picked the perfect time to invade. The Qunari find Tractus still tied up and he tells them about the ritual as well, so they prepare to go to Castellum Tenebris too. Vaea manages to sneak into the castle and then lets in the others through a secret passage. At the end of the tunnel they find a chained up high dragon. Vaea and Fenris attempt to flee the dragon while Aaron, Francesca, Tessa and Marius fight off the Venatori, while the Qunari attempt to break in through the front gate. While all this is going on, Nenealeus completes the ritual on Shirallas, infusing him with red lyrium. Fenris makes a deal with the Qunari to join forces against the Venatori. Marius and Vaea are able to take out Nenealeus, and Fenris and Aaron are able to defeat Shirallas, with the help of Cedric who switches sides at the last minute and reveals his weakness. This comes at the cost of Aaron’s life, though. Tractus gets away, and forces Cedric to hand over the red lyrium idol he stole. Solas watches this from an eluvian.

Dragon Age: Tevinter Nights (post-9:44, exact times unknown)

[RELATED POST – Dragon Age: Tevinter Nights Review]

(For more information on Tevinter Nights, I recommend checking out my review linked above.)

Three Trees to Midnight

After the Qunari took over the city of Ventus, they sent the healthy men into work camps on the outskirts of the Arlathan Forest, put to work cutting down trees. Myrion is one such worker, but is secretly a mage. He is chained up to an elf named Strife and immediately calls him a “filthy knife-ear” three times in the same paragraph, insulted to be paired with him. (He continues to do so the entire story, by the way.) They get in trouble for fighting. Strife is revealed to be an undercover Dalish, (though originally from Starkhaven). He was sent to rescue another Dalish elf named Thantiel who uncovered the Qunari invasion plans, though Thantiel was poisoned with an overdose of qamek, irreversibly turning him into a mindless labourer as well. Strife uncovers the plans and he and Myrion escape into the Arlathan Forest, after Myrion uses his magic to help them get away. In the forest they meet up with Irelin, a shapeshifting member of Strife’s clan, who takes off to spread word to other Dalish Clans of the Qunari plans to move into Rivain. The Qunari are also tracking the two escapees, and when the lead Qunari catches up to them, they take him out with the power of teamwork. When the rest of the Qunari catch up, the Huntsmaster reveals himself to actually be Saarbrak of the Ben-Hassrath, sent to investigate the Antaam working against the Qun’s orders in Ventus. Saarbrak kills the lead Qunari and lets the escaped prisoners go. They free themselves from the chains tying them together, and Strife leaves with Irelin, who came back for him.

Down Among the Dead Men

Audric Felhausen, a new member of the Funeral Guard, is recruited by the Mortalitasi’s Mourn Watch, (an elite fraternity among the Mortalitasi that act as guardians of the Grand Necropolis,) to track down and find the pre-maturely possessed corpse of nobleman Penrick Karn in the Grand Necropolis. Karn is after Duke Janus Van Markham, who also died in the mutually-fatal duel Karn perished from. Audric and Mourn Watcher Myrna head into the tombs after Karn. In their exploration, Audric comes to realize that the human Audric was killed at Karn’s funeral, and is actually a spirit possessing Audric’s body. Myrna hoped that taking Audric with her would help settle him into peace. In the end, Audric challenges Karn to a duel, but when Karn breaks the rules of the duel, Myrna rids the body of the spirit of Pride within it. Back in the Mourn Watch headquarters, Audric is offered a position in their library.

The Horror of Hormak

I actually already wrote out a long summary of this story here: [LINK]

Callback

(I’ll be honest: I only skimmed this one. It’s boring as fuck and I told myself I’d never read it again the first time I slogged through it, but here we are… So if I missed something actually important, my apologies. But I doubt it.)

Sutherland and Company, as well as a bunch of other NPCs from Skyhold, return to the Skyhold fortress to investigate why the remaining caretakers have gone silent. They end up fighting a demon of Regret, formed out of the plaster of Solas’s murals. They send the spirit back to the Fade, and leave Skyhold abandoned.

Luck in the Gardens

This story is told in the form of “Hollix” (an alias), the Lord of Fortune protagonist who is a master of disguise, recounting it at a tavern in Dairsmuid. Hollix tells a story about how they were hired by Dorian Pavus and Maevaris Tilani to hunt down a monster that was terrorizing Minrathous, called the Cekorax. The monster was first encountered by the Venatori, who were searching for an old cave under the city. It steals the heads of its victims and makes them part of it. They are able to destroy the Cekorax with the help of Dorian and a little girl named Mizzy.

Hunger

On their way to Weisshaupt, the dwarven woman Evka Ivo from Orzammar and elven man Antoine from Orlais, both Grey Wardens, stop in a small Anderfells village called Eichweill. They come to find out that people are disappearing in the village. The two come to uncover that it is werewolves responsible for the disappearances. The son of a noble named Renke starved in the woods and attracted a hunger demon, turning him into the first werewolf. Evka and Antoine hunt Renke down and fight him, and Antoine ends up getting bitten himself. However, they set a successful trap back at the village and kill Renke, believing Antoine and the others affected are now safe from the curse with its source defeated, and the demon banished.

Murder by Death Mages

Lord Henrik, a Mortalitasi, tips off the Inquisition that there is a plot to assassinate a noble in Nevarra. Sidony (from Dragon Age Inquisition’s multiplayer) is sent by the Inquisition to stop this, as she was raised by Henrik. She goes to meet Antonia, another Mortalitasi mage and friend of Henrik, who invites Sidony to attend a party hosted by a noble named Nicolas Reinhardt, where she will be able to meet with a man named Cyrros. Cyrros is an elf who has everyone in debt to him by knowing the secrets of every noble in the city, and Antonia suggests he will be able to help Sidony discover the assassin. Sidony recruits Cyrros as a partner in her investigation, after he says he believes it’s a Mortalitasi responsible. They find Reinhardt’s dead wife, and Cyrros attacks Sidony. She wakes up and overhears Nicolas Reinhardt reveal that he hired Cyrros to assassinate his political rivals and blame it on the Mortalitasi, but now thinks Cyrros killed his wife, which Cyrros denies. Sidony raises the corpse of Reinhardt’s wife and commands it to attack them both, killing Reinhardt and Cyrros. Sidony believes everything to be over, and goes to Henrik’s funeral, where she meets Antonia again. Antonia spills that she was the one who killed Henrick and Reinhardt’s wife, and traps Sidony in the tomb. Sidony somehow escapes though and goes after Antonia, planning to kill her.

The Streets of Minrathous

Neve Gallus is a private investigator hired by Otho Calla to uncover if Quentin Calla (his nephew) has fallen back in with the remains of the Venatori. Neve follows Quentin and witnesses his fatal stabbing by a figure in a bronze mask. The next day, Neve is told by Knight-Templar Rana Savas that another suspected Venatori was murdered the same night, named Lady Varantus. Neve is invited into the Templar investigation, up until the Varantus family request it closed to avoid bad press. Neve then meets a mysterious man who tells her the murderer, named Aelia, is after a set of clay discs held by Venatori agents, and gives her one of these discs. Aelia ends up attacking Neve for the disc—or rather, the “seal” as she calls it, and leaves Neve for dead. Neve saves herself though, and meets the mysterious man again, who is really a man named Flavian Bataris. Flavian reveals that there is an extremely powerful demon sealed beneath the city of Minrathous, and Corypheus planned on releasing it to destroy the city and build the centre of his new empire over it. The plan fell to the wayside when Corypheus was defeated, up until Aelia took over the remains of the cult, and now plans on summoning the demon herself. Neve informs Knight-Templar Savas of this plan, but storms out in frustration over the Order’s lack of willingness to do anything about it. Neve then heads into the Catacombs where Flavian told her the ritual would be held, and tries to stop it. At first she is unsuccessful on her own, but then three templars, including Savas, show up to back her up. They defeat the Venatori and arrest Aelia.

The Wigmaker Job

In Vyrantium, Ambrose Forfex, a successful wigmaker, is told by Crispin Kavlo and Felicia Erimond that he should cancel his wig show because The Antivan Crows have been assassinating Venatori agents. Ambrose decides to put on the show anyway. Sure enough, Lucanis Dellamorte and his cousin Illario Dellamorte prepare to infiltrate the party. There is a bit of tension between them, because Illario wants to become the next head of the House after their grandmother Caterina steps down, but people talk about how Lucanis should take that position, despite him having no desire to do so. They are interrupted by someone poorly trying to listen in on their conversation, and kill the eavesdropper. In his pocket, they find a letter sighed ‘A’, believing him to be sent by Ambrose. After sneaking into the party in the courtyard, Illario distracts a guard with his charm in order for Lucanis to get the keys to the place. They regroup after Lucanis kills the other guards inside. They find an enslaved elf girl, but Lucanis refuses to kill her, and she is all too happy that they are there to kill Ambrose, so they let her go. In Ambrose’s work room, they uncover the secret to his perfect wigs: He feeds his slaves red lyrium to create red-lyrium infused hair. Lucanis destroys the elven artifact Ambrose keeps in his workshop to prevent the veil from tearing, and while the party is erupted with demons. Illario leads the slaves of the estate that are able to escape to safety and freedom, while Lucanis confronts Ambrose. Ambrose shovels his magic wig hair into his mouth and becomes an abomination, but Lucanis still successfully kills him. The following day, Crispin and Felicia visit Magister Zara Renata and inform her that Ambrose is dead. Crispin says Zara will likely soon be a target herself, to which she responds that she has plans to take down Lucanis.

Genitivi Dies in the End

This story is impossible to make a summary of, because it’s told in the form of Philliam writing down what happened but full of fabrication, making it unclear what is real and what is fake. So nothing really matters. The only known fact is Rasaan, (a Qunari tamassran introduced in the Those Who Speak comics,) is leading a search for elven ruins trying to find information on the Dread Wolf. That’s really all that matters, I promise.

Herold Had the Plan

Dwarf Bharv and elf Elim, two Lords of Fortune, were after an amulet held at the Grand Tourney. Their friend Herold already died, and now they are on the run from Starkhaven guardsmen, along with their hired help, Panzstott. It turns out Panzstott is the real reason they guards are after them, as he stole the precious Celebrant sword, supposed to be given to the winner of the Tourney. He is working for a woman named Lady Lucie, who promises that she will help Panzstott find his sister, who left to become a Grey Warden and has never been heard of since. Lucie believes the Celebrant belongs to her, because her dead husband was the last Champion. A fight between everyone and the guards ensues, where Elim and Bharv are mortally wounded—however, it turns out the amulet has magic healing powers, and saves Bharv’s life. He heads to the pre-arranged meeting spot and gives the amulet to Vaea (from the Knight Errant-onward comics.)

An Old Crow's Old Tricks

After a group of Tevinter soldiers led by Magister Bicklius attack the Dalish clan Oranavra, the remaining clan members reach out to make a contract with the Antivan Crows to kill the soldiers. Lessef, an elderly Crow but still deadly, fulfills the contract, killing the soldiers one by one. In the end, she stands off with Bicklius, and in addition to killing him, steals back a precious halla statue he stole from the clan. Lessef then runs to her getaway boat yelling in Qunlat so that the soldiers she let chase her believe the attack was from the Qunari. Her partner Tainsley sails them away, happy that his uncle’s clan will get their halla statue back.

Eight Little Talons 🖤

All Eight Talons (the leaders of the most powerful Crow branches) are called to a meeting at the Verdant Isle of Lago di Novo by First Talon Caterina Dellamorte, to discuss the impending Qunari invasion of Antiva. Fifth Talon Viago De Riva is the last to arrive, where he meets Seventh Talon Andarateia “Teia” Cantori, (both of whom were first introduced in the Deception comics.) At their first meal together, the group argue while Third Talon Lera Valisti is notably absent. Viago and Teia are sent to investigate where Lera is, and find her dead, with her body displayed mimicking an infamous Crow murder of the past. The finger-pointing starts immediately and Caterina puts Verdant Isle on lockdown, forbidding anyone from leaving. This especially pisses off Sixth Talon Bolivar Nero. The next morning, they find all the servants have been murdered. Eighth Talon Giuli Arainai was also murdered the same night. Both again, in the style of famous Crow events. Caterina orders Viago and Second Talon Dante Balazar confined to their quarters, as they are the number one suspects. Teia ignores the rule about no visitors and breaks into Viago’s room anyway, where the two come up with a plan to coax the truth out of Dante, with a mixture of Teia’s natural silver tongue and a truth poison of Viago’s making. They are able to confirm Dante is not the killer. That evening, Teia and Fourth Talon Emil Kortez find Dante dead, while at the same time, Viago is attacked by a poisonous snake hidden in his clothing. Before he perishes, Teia returns to his room and finds anti-venom among Viago’s many alchemical vials. They figure out the killer is Emil, and upon confronting him, Catrina takes him out with her cane. Before Emil dies, he reveals he was contacted by the Qunari, and made an agreement with them that if he could destroy the Crows, they would invade peacefully and Antivans could keep their way of life, without submitting to the Qun. The remaining Crows then all stab Emil to death. With the killer dealt with, Catrina, Viago and Teia all make a plan, and send written orders to the head of each House, (the heirs, in the case of those now dead.)

Half up Front

Vadis, runaway daughter of a Magister, and Irian Cestes, former elven servant, are thieves for hire working in Minrathous. They are hired by a mysterious elven woman to steal back an artifact known as Dumat's Folly, which is said to be a piece of the Black City, from the Archon’s palace. They discover that the artefact has been stolen by the Qunari, and are able to track the thieves to Kont-aar in Rivain using blood magic. The two travel to Kont-aar and sneak onto a dreadnaught holding a ton of magic objects the Qunari are studying. But the whole thing turns out to be a set-up by the mysterious elf. She reveals several things in her villainous gloating: That she works for the Dread Wolf, that she has possession of the real Dumat’s Folly, and that the “Dumat’s Folly” that Vadis found on the dreadnaught is actually a magic bomb soon to explode. Her goal is to implicate a Tevinter mage in the destruction of Kont-aar. Vadis and Irian overpower the elf, but the elf bites down on a poison pill hidden in her mouth and dies. Vadis blows the dreadnaught out to sea using wind magic, and she and Irian escape on a lifeboat just in time to avoid the giant explosion. Back on shore, they are interrogated by Ben-Hassrath agent Gatt (from Dragon Age Inquisition), who shares that they were tricked into stealing the artifact in the first place by an Agent of Fen’Harel among their ranks. Gatt says that the Ben-Hassrath will remain officially neutral on the invasion. Gatt suggests they go to Kirkwall, but Vadis and Irian decide to go to Val Royeaux for a vacation instead.

The Dread Wolf Take You

Charter (from Dragon Age Inquisition) attends a meeting with some of the best spies across Thedas at a place called the Teahouse in Hunter Fell, Nevarra. At the table is a dwarf from the Carta, an Orlesian bard, a Mortalitasi mage, and a mysterious Executor from across the sea. She says she invited someone from Tevinter and the Ben-Hassrath, but they both declined. First, the dwarf tells a tale about how he and his crew used a special solvent that softens lyrium, allowing them to extract the red lyrium idol from Meredith’s statue in Kirkwall. At the meeting location a man from House Qintara (from the Deception comics) shows up and takes the idol. Also at the meeting were former templars looking for the solvent that softens red lyrium, but they were all killed in their sleep by the Dread Wolf. The Mortalitasi speaks next, about how a man from House Danarius, (that being Tractus from the Dark Fortress comics), brought the idol to her group of mages, asking for help unlocking it. They do so in a ritual, but it draws the attention of the Dread Wolf, who is angered by them using his idol to “vandalize the sea of dreams”. One of the Mortalitasi mages fled with the idol leaving the rest to die, but the speaker managed to escape with her life. Finally the Orlesian bard speaks of how the idol wound up in auction house in Llomerryn, where the Dread Wolf himself took possession of it. By this time though, Charter has come to realize that the Orlesian Bard is actually Solas in disguise, and asks for her life. Solas kills the other attendees, but spares Charter. She tells him he doesn’t have to do this, but Solas insists he does, before leaving.

Dragon Age: Absolution (post-9:44, exact time unknown)

Elven rogue Miriam and Orlesian human warrior Roland, a couple of mercenaries, are recruited by Fairbanks (DA:I) to join his group, who are tasked by the remains of the Inquisition to steal a magic artifact known as the Circulum Infinitus from the Summer Palace of Nessum in Tevinter. The group also consists of the dwarf warrior Lacklon, the tal-vashoth mage Qwydion, and lastly human mage Hira, who Miriam has a romantic history with. Miriam and her deceased twin brother Neb were formerly enslaved by the man now studying the Circulum, Rezaren Ammosine. She is reluctant to return to Nessum, but Hira convinces her to help. Their heist does not go as planned however, and Hira is captured while Miriam is gravely wounded, but the others scoop her up and flee. Rezaren uses blood magic to contact Miriam in her dreams and tries to convince her to return to him so they can be like his idea of a family, but she refuses. It’s also revealed through flashbacks that Miriam was forced to kill Neb when Rezaren’s mother put a demon inside him to prevent Rezaren from failing his Harrowing, except Rezaren used blood magic to bind a spirit to his body that he now controls. Rezaren’s hope is to use the Circulum to bring Neb back to life for real. Miriam and the rest of the gang stage a rescue mission for Hira, but when they regroup back at their base, it’s revealed that Hira was planning on betraying them to “The Crimson Knight”. Rezaren chases after them, and manages to begin the blood ritual to try and bring Neb back. Neb’s spirit destroys his body rather than return though, and Miriam is able to kill Rezaren. She then asks Hira to choose their relationship over her quest to destroy the Tevinter Imperium, which Hira refuses, and flees with the Circulum, intending to bring it to none other than an alive once more Meredith Stannard from DA:2. Meredith is leading what remains of the red templars. Miriam and her friends vow to chase after Hira and stop her.

Dragon Age: The Missing (post-9:44, exact time unknown)

Varric Tethras and Lace Harding are tasked by Charter to try and track down Solas, all the while stalked by a mysterious figure in Venatori Assassin clothes. Their adventure first takes them to the Deep Roads under Marnas Pell in Tevinter, where they encounter two Grey Wardens, Evka Ivo and Antoine (from the Tevinter Nights story, Hunger). They find an abandoned hideout with an invitation to the home of Lady Crysanthus in Vyrantium, where they investigate next. When they arrive in Vyrantium though, they find it under siege by the Qunari. This doesn’t stop them from breaking into Lady Crysanthus’s estate though, where they meet the Antivan Crows Viago De Riva and Teia Cantori (from the Tevinter Nights story, Eight Little Talons). Viago and Teia were there to kill Lady Crysanthus, but Solas beat them to it by turning her to stone. They discover evidence that Crysanthus was working for the Venatori, who are after an elven artifact called “the crucious stone” located in the Arlathan Forest. Viago and Teia share that the Crows are working against the Venatori, before they all part ways. In the Arlathan Forest, Varric and Harding encounter a group of “Veil Jumpers”, led by Strife (from the Tevinter Nights story, Three Trees to Midnight). The Arlathan Forest has turned into a place of chaotic magic, where space and time mix and mingle in strange ways. The Veil Jumpers help Varric and Harding get to the temple where the crucious stone is said to be located. Within the temple though, they only find a note left by Solas asking them to stop interfering with his plans – Solas now has the stone. Varric and Harding next travel with Minrathous to meet private investigator, Neve Gallus (from the Tevinter Nights story, The Streets of Minrathous). Neve says that Solas has been busy in Minrathous, attacking Venatori, stealing their artifacts, and freeing their elven slaves, who in turn are rising up in his name. Neve shares that there is a group called the Shadow Dragons that helps those who have escaped slavery as a lead about the elven rebels. They find an elf that Solas freed, who shares that there’s a meeting of escaped slaves planned that night at the docks, but Varric and Harding piece together that the Venatori know about the meeting and will attack. They decide to give up chasing Solas in order to help the elves. Varric realizes that there’s no way they will catch Solas at this point, because he knows them too well – so he says they need new help.

Short Stories

Minrathous Shadows (post-9:44, exact time unknown)

A templar named Tarquin plays a card game with a magister, and confronts her on being a Venatori cultist. It’s revealed that Tarquin and the deal are part of a group called “the Viper”?

Ruins of Reality (post-9:44, exact time unknown)

Strife and Irelin (from Tevinter Nights) are lost in the Arlathan Forest, as the forest has come alive with magic, changing and shifting to the point where Strife’s map is no longer reliable, nor is the passage of time. Strife carries an ancestral journal from the Morlyn that began rewriting itself. They find copies of themselves—Irelin says either a mirage or an echo—running around. Irelin turns into a bird to snatch a crystal halla figurine off a statue they find, and the spell ends for a time.

The Wake (post-9:44, exact time unknown)

Viago de Riva, Illario Dellamorte, and Teia Cantori (from Tevinter Nights) all attend an Antivan Crow funeral, implied to be Lucanis’s from Illario’s drunken story-telling about the two as children and him saying “I was always right behind him, you know? Now there’s nobody for me to follow.”

Won't Know When (post-9:44, exact time unknown)

Evka Ivo and Antoine (from Tevinter Nights) fight off a darkspawn horde so a group of miners can escape. They ponder the dangerous nature of being Grey Wardens, before Antoine asks Evka to marry him, and Evka says yes.

As We Fly (post-9:44, exact time unknown)

Neri de Acutis and his sister Noa are old Antivan Crows fighting the Qunari occupation of Treviso.

-----

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stellar-skyy · 1 year

Text

THE WARMTH OF HOME - Platonic Freminet x reader

i. SUMMARY: Freminet welcomes the newest member to the House of the Hearth. ii. CONTENT WARNINGS: Referenced family death. iii. NOTES: STRICTLY PLATONIC, found family, fluff, slight angst, gn!reader, they/them pronouns used, 1.3k words. iv. A/N: this is me coping with the fact that i didn't get freminet or lyney.. at least i have my free lynette 😭😭

The Knave’s hand was as cold as ice in (Name)’s own, the sharp sensation anchoring them solidly in the present. Her rings pressed into their skin, the grooves of the silver making faint marks against their fingers. They didn’t make any move to adjust their grip, content to let the metal carve indents in their hand for as long as she would allow them to keep clinging tightly to hers.

The woman tugged on their conjoined hands, pulling them up to walk beside her, rather than trailing slightly behind.

“Don’t fall behind.” She scolded. Despite the blunt words, her voice was soft, motherly; nothing at all like what a Fatui Harbinger should sound like. The Fatui were the subjects of cautionary stories told in their youth; like ‘better eat your vegetables or the Harbinger might steal you away.' Right alongside the tales of hilichurls eating little kids who wandered away in the forest. They were sly and cunning, twisted monsters who crept across every corner of Teyvat.

They weren’t fierce protectors who rescued defenceless, orphaned children and let them cling to their hands while they walked.

“(Name)? Are you okay?” She asked.

They nodded, hesitantly. The Knave clicks her tongue in displeasure at the obvious lie, but doesn’t call them out on it.

The two walked up to the entrance of a grand house; built from ivory-coloured bricks and sprawling across the yard with arched windows and trimmed hedges. Before either of them had a chance to touch the doorknob, two guards pulled open to enormous doors to let them in.

Standing along the length of the corridor were guards; Fatui, if the masks were any indication. Not a single one bothered to look at the two walking down the hallway, and the Knave herself swept by without acknowledging them at all. Their behaviour seemed all too casual for such a peculiar situation, like they watched a Fatui Harbinger walk down the halls with children clinging to their hand every week.

The two rounded the corner, The Knave stopping in her tracks at seeing a small child loitering in an open doorway. The boy looked young, staring at them with a blank expression, a small penguin toy clutched in his arms.

“Ah, Freminet.” The Knave greeted, finally letting go of (Name)’s hand. They shrank backwards, clutching their hand to their chest. The phantom feeling of skin-to-skin contact sent tingles across their fingers. Somehow, it felt so much colder than before.

“Freminet, please escort (Name) to their new room.” He nodded, his serious expression almost comical when paired with his young face.

“Yes, Father.” Father? Not Mother?

“I will be leaving in a moment, and I will not be back for a while. Make sure they settle in comfortably.”

“Yes, Father.” Freminet bobbed his head slightly. The Knave hummed in satisfaction, leaning down to drop a kiss to Freminet’s hair. She swept away with a swish of her cloak, only faltering as Freminet reached one tiny hand out to grab the end of her coat-tails and stop her from leaving.

The young boy made a displeased noise, raising up the penguin toy to her. The Knave’s face softened, a corner of her mouth turning upwards as she leaned down and kissed the top of the toy as well.

“Goodbye, Pers. Goodbye Freminet.” The Knave paused, eyes lingering on (Name)’s small form. “Goodbye, (Name). I truly hope you find yourself at home here.”

Once she had disappeared around the corner, he shifted away to face (Name), blinking at them with wide and watery eyes. He pulled the penguin toy up higher until it was resting right beneath his chin, looking at them with a tilt of his head. “We should… get going.”

Freminet wasn’t the talkative type, it seemed. He was content silently wandering a few feet in front of them, sneaking glances behind himself every so often to make sure they weren’t trailing behind. The penguin toy stayed resolutely in his grasp, tucked under one arm while he craned his neck to see around the corner of the hall.

Down the halls, through wide and yawning doors that almost reached the ceiling, across carpets that were more expensive than their entire life, they walked; a quiet anxiousness present in their steps. It wasn’t as if they feared the young boy in front of him—he looked like he would snap in two if he was ruffled by a light breeze—but the building itself was something that set their nerves on edge. Maybe it was the guards—posted at the beginning and end of the hallways—or just the way the Fatui themselves roamed the building. Cicin Mages with their hooded jackets and tiny flies buzzing lazily around their heads, Agents that prowled silently through the shadows, visible only with a slight glint of silver at their sides.

There were children too, the further they traversed inside the house. Young kids, from tiny toddlers to older adolescents, casually strolling through in small groups. The smaller ones clung to the older ones hands, while the smallest were carried by the others. They all chatted casually, ignoring the various Fatui stationed around their home, laughing and joking and playing like any ordinary siblings would.

It was surreal to see, the children acting so at ease with so much danger surrounding them. Freminet looked to be the only one who was nervous, but his fear seemed to be more directed at (Name) than anyone else.

“We’re here,” Freminet turned the handle of an ornate door emblazoned with the number 13. The doors along that wall were all decorated with similar gold lettering, as if the place was a hotel. “This is your dormitory. It’s empty, but if anyone new arrives you will have a roommate to share with.”

Roommate.

There was something warm coating their cheeks at hearing those words. How quickly they had gone from living with their loving family, surrounded by the comfortable knowledge that they would only be a few doors away. How could any ‘roommate’ even dream of replacing the people they’d lost? No roommate would have the same footsteps, or the same laugh, or the same way of organizing the room.

Their precious familiarity was gone, stolen alongside their loved ones.

“O-Oh… you’re crying…” Freminet frowned, squeezing Pers. “A-Are you okay?”

“No!” They sniffed, the first word they’d spoken since the Knave had retrieved them.

“Oh dear…” He coughed into his hand awkwardly. “Do you want to go home? Is that it?”

“I don’t have a home,” They choked out through the tears. “N-Not anymore.”

“M-Me neither…” He swallowed, face scrunched up in a childish pout. His eyes looked far too grave for someone his age, already worn down with the sort of weariness that was meant for older folks who had already lived a long life. “All of us don’t have homes… that’s why we’re here. Father rescues us, and gives us a family.”

Freminet crept closer; slowly, like they were a skittish animal who would scuttle away if he moved too quickly.

“I can be your family,”

He was just a boy. Raised in a house filled with other lonely children like himself. Reaching out to one more, offering something more priceless than any material object.

“Okay.” They whispered. Freminet blinked owlishly at them.

“We’ll be family?” He asked, his tone an odd mix of surprise and hesitance.

“Yeah… we can be family.”

For the first time, a smile flashed across the young boy’s features. He held out his hand, one pinkie outstretched. “You have to pinkie promise.”

(Name) extended their hand to meet his, curling their littlest finger around his.

“Promise,” They whispered, feeling something like hope bloom in their chest.

reblogs and comments are appreciated! ♡

#✒️ — writing #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #platonic x reader #platonic genshin x reader #platonic genshin impact x reader #genshin impact freminet x reader #genshin freminet x reader #freminet x reader #arlecchino x reader #genshin arlecchino x reader #platonic arlecchino x reader #platonic freminet x reader

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s-4pphics · 6 months

Text

mourn. intro. (e.w.)

INTRO.

WORD COUNT: 4.1k

WARNINGS: streetracer!ellie, dealer!oc, backstory lemme cook, parental death, mentions of overdoses, funeral, baby ellie :), oc intro… cackles evilly

A/N: last post til eid lol

pay zakat. feed a family this ramadan. k!ll zios.

SEPTEMBER, 2009

ANGUISH floods Ellie’s chest as she witnesses decorative rosewood being lowered into the sopping dirt. It’s cinematic; watching herself from a bird’s eye view, floating above her own body. Her brain cranks at an alarming rate. Churning in attempts to convince her that she’s not actually here, staring dead at her mother’s casket. The grass sludges beneath her shoes with every unsteady shuffle of her feet.

There aren't many people around. Three of her mother’s former work friends, a service dog, and the officiant. They’re hardly acknowledging Ellie; no one would be able to stop her from leaping head-first into the ground due to the lowering clouds. Buried and suffocated by grass and mud, a feast for the maggots, but loved eternally. Every cell in Ellie’s body thrums with anxiety. Just when she trusted that her mother’s health was improving, she woke up, shrouded in ice next to a limp body and an empty pill bottle on the nightstand. The same ones her mother took to sleep throughout the night.

That was three weeks ago. She doesn’t remember calling 911.

Her best friend — her only friend is gone. And it’s permanent. This isn’t like how her mother used to scavenge the streets until dawn searching for another job before Ellie woke up. She’s not coming back to crawl into their shared, warm bed, sleep for half an hour, then help her get ready for school. No more oatmeal in the mornings. No laughter. No joy. No symmetry. Ellie’s life is forever scattered. Beaten to death until she’s leaking venomous, black blood.

There’s a man that keeps staring at her with pity: familiarity crushes her every time they lock eyes. She kind of remembers him. Somewhat. She almost forgot her shoes before coming here. He seems more upset than her. At least externally; Ellie’s rotting from the inside.

Her mother’s chamber is completely submerged underneath dirt within the next few hours. The man from earlier is much closer now.

She jumps when he whispers,

I owed your mom a favor.

OCTOBER, 2009

Ellie hates Joel. Hates her mother for leaving her with him. Hates herself for not being able to save her from the claws of addiction.

Joel’s home is always silent during the day. He gave Ellie the grace of letting her stay home until the Spring, but it’s too quiet. Music never plays and they never talk, and it’s driving her to madness. The silence makes her itch.

Until the sun sets.

She already has trouble sleeping. Her insomnia combined with the thunderous clanking that blares from the garage every night is enough to get her sobbing into her pillow until the sun rises the next morning. One night, the noise had gotten so uncontrollably loud that Ellie barged into the garage to shout every curse she recalled her mom screaming into the phone before bedtime.

She didn't expect, however, to see Joel’s legs extended out from underneath her mom’s wrecked ‘57 Chevrolet. Ellie could hear him grunting as cranking and banging of metal took over the space.

… What are you doing?

Joel rolls out from beneath the car on a creeper, face confused and smeared with dark sludge.

Why’re you up?

It’s loud. She snaps. Why is her car here.

Joel sighs. Just trying to fix it up.

For what. Ellie eyes the cracked windshield. She somehow remembers how a rock hit it on the freeway when she was six. Her mom was livid. She can’t drive it anymore.

Joel’s face twists uncomfortably. It’s almost comical; the seemingly boiling child stands at a whopping four-foot-three with her fists clenched, burning holes through her bright yellow Spongebob pjs. Her glare sharpens when he mumbles,

Kid…

So you stole her freaking car? Her eyes swelter, brows hauled downward and hands in fists. He sits up straight, palms up in surrender, wrench in hand. How’d he even get back into their old house?

No, I — He rushes, She asked me to try n’ get it started again. That’s all. I… I shoulda asked you —

Ellie’s not sure why she’s so enraged, but she’s hollering with a pointed index in his direction, berating him, degrading him with sobbed vulgarities. Pushes him hard when he rises to comfort her. Eyes him with so much disdain that he flinches.

She hates him. She misses her mom.

The guest room door slammed shut with the click of a lock. She screamed for her mother for hours. Voice shrieking so loud that the neighbors came knocking after the first fifteen minutes. Cops pounded on Joel’s door and proceeded to conduct a wellness check on the household after an hour.

Their presence made Ellie swallow her scorn. Ellie’s already received a small taste of what it’s like to be in the system. She vowed to never reenter as if her life depended on it.

NOVEMBER, 2009

Joel made Ellie chocolate chip pancakes for her birthday.

Breakfast is silent, per usual. Light clinks of utensils on silverware and breathing are the only proof of life in the room. Ellie refuses to touch the squared slices of pineapple. It was her mother’s favorite, despite her complaints of an itchy mouth after every juicy piece.

Your mom and I…

Ellie pauses, skeptic eyes connecting with Joel’s. He’s treading light, she can tell. The nerves in his fingers are evident; The sorrow in his eyes suffocates her. Joel’s gaze drops onto his plate at the scrutiny he receives from across the table.

She’s a good friend of mine, He mutters before his lips turn downward. Was.

Ellie snorts humorlessly, Way to rub it in.

Joel’s eyes flutter shut as he sighs, I’m… Sorr—

Were you the one she told? Her tone is sharp. Unforgiving. I heard her on the phone a few days before she did it.

A storm flurries in the man’s gaze. A familiar one; It’s identical to when she would catch her mother in the middle of night talking to herself with a bottle in her hand. The winds in his pupils take her back to one of the darkest times of Ellie’s life. Maybe they were closer than she assumed. They look identical when they’re guilty.

I didn’t—

But he did. He’ll never forget being on the other line with Ellie’s mother as she attempted to keep her cries to a minimum. Her croaked wails terrified him. Left wounds in his chest as his heart raced. I can’t do this to her, She’d said, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t! … Please… You owe me…

Joel did what he could over the phone. Made promises to her that he couldn’t keep, reaffirmed how much Ellie loved her. How badly she needed her mother, and eventually eased her sobs into pained whimpers. He believed the calmness she exuded prior to ending the call was a sign of understanding of her importance, but it wasn’t. Her mind and body merely accepted her fate. She was dead two mornings after.

And Ellie was a witness to it all.

Ellie’s eyes roll and sickness floods her, so she stands, You’re a liar. When you’re ready to tell the truth… You know where I am. She doesn’t bother to push her chair in, clean her dishes, pause at his calls of her name. Her feet stomp through the hallway, marrow searing beneath her skin. The guest room door slams shut and she breaks, guarded by the plainness of the beige walls while tears flow.

She knows he knew. Why else would her mother leave her with him?

When Ellie got up to use the restroom hours later, she nearly tripped over a teddy bear holding a birthday cake. With candles. She’s never received a gift before.

She doesn’t tell him that she slept for an hour with it hugged to her chest.

The noises in the garage halt for a week. Ellie still can’t fall asleep. Joel has the same problem, she’s discovered. She finds him sprawled out on the couch one night, burning holes through the roof with a picture frame in his arms. She watches him silently for some time, perched behind the main wall of the hallway.

Hey.

Joel’s acknowledgement earns a gasp followed by scuffling, and he snorts. He sits up and sets the dusty frame on the cushion in front of him, noting how awful Ellie is at hiding; It makes him smile. Barely, but he’s endeared; Her entire arm was exposed. He can even see her duck-shaped slippers from where she’s tucked behind the wall.

Ellie.

She doesn’t come out, and he sighs. His heart twists painfully when he hears a wet sniffle. He’s up and moving when a guttural sob echoes from the hallway, crouching down in front of Ellie with her knees squeezed into her heaving chest. Joel’s heart cracks at her flushed cheeks drenched in salt. Talking won’t calm her, he knows it, but he’s unsure of what else to do. Ellie… isn’t an emotional kid, but he hushes her, attempts to cradle, apologizes softly.

But when her wet eyes pinch open, she unravels and falls into him completely. Her arms squeeze around his neck in a deadly grip and she cries and coughs and whines for her mother. Joel holds her just as tightly as she hangs off him.

We're gonna be fine, sweetheart. He mumbles, and he feels her head shake in denial, tucked in the crook of his neck. His knees wobble, and a soothing hand rises to caress the back of her head; He's never seen a kid this hopeless. It makes him wonder.

What the hell did she witness in that house?

Ellie’s always struggled to fall asleep alone.

Her need to be coddled to dreamland was always a mystery to her mother. Skin-to-skin was a normal trait for infants, toddlers, maybe even a little over, but at age ten? Eleven, and unable to fall asleep without the feeling or knowledge of a loved one present? There was only one time where she recalled her mother carrying her to her own room to rest, but the second the door clicked shut, she was up. Awake. Alert and exposed to harm. Or, at least that’s what she convinced herself.

She crawled into her mother’s bed minutes later and snoozed throughout the entire night. She didn’t hear the end of it when the sun rose.

Joel doesn’t berate her, though.

I can’t sleep by myself, she’d said to him after she calmed from her breakdown in the living room. They’d sat on the couch as he rubbed a comforting palm down her back, her small ones coming up to wipe her wet cheeks.

How come?

She scoffed, Scared of the dark, I guess? I dunno. I just can’t.

Joel hummed in understanding.

I’m like that, too. Sometimes.

Ellie snickered wetly, You’re old, though. It’s not the same.

Joel scoffed and snatched his hand away in mocked hurt. I’m not old!

The gray hairs say otherwise!

That night was the first time they ever laughed together. The first time Ellie laughed since her mother’s death, and it carried on until she knocked out beside him on the couch.

For Joel, though, he couldn’t rest. Not when Ellie favored his daughter that much. Whenever he feels as though he’s progressing, letting go of grief, something life changing — disastrous — forces him right back to square one. Meeting Ellie was one of those moments. He tried to keep his weeping to a minimum as he held her sleeping form, eyes glued to the picture of him hugging his baby after her first soccer win.

DECEMBER, 2009

It’s New Year’s Eve, and Ellie’s trapped inside the garage with Joel.

Watching him tweak her mother’s vehicle has aided her raging boredom… To a certain degree. When he starts getting nerdy and raving about car parts, she tunes him out, despite the slight interest she’s taken with underneath the hood.

The connecting wires, the bolts, the valves and cranks and this manual makes absolutely zero sense—

Can you stop dillydallyin’ around n’ hand me that?

Ellie’s gobsmacked reading is paused when she passes Joel the manual, dark sludge-covered hands staining the fading paper. She cringes.

Ellie watches silently as Joel inspects the contents, nodding to himself as his eyes flicker from the vehicle to the booklet, mapping out his next moves of attack. His eyes sparkle and curiosity sparks in her.

Did you fix it?

Joel only murmurs to himself, and Ellie’s eyes roll. She inches closer to him and waves a hand in front of his eyes. Hellooo? Is it gonna start?

… I think so, kid. His head shakes in disbelief, If I can get that transmission replaced, it might be alright.

Ellie’s brows furrow… What on earth is a transmission?

I’ve been workin’ on cars for a while. I can tell you now that finding such an essential part for a model this old is gonna be tough. Might cost me an arm n’ leg.

Ellie shrugs, You’ll figure it out, old man.

He stares down at her blankly, Gee, thanks. Hand me that wrench, assistant.

Ellie mocks glee on her skip to the rolling cart, Gosh golly dang, does this mean I’m hired?

He jokingly snatches the tool from her extended hand. Little bugger. And just like that, you’re not gettin’ paid. How’s it feel to be outta funds?

WAAAAAAA—

Ellie’s fake wails earn her a deep holler.

Ellie oversees Joel until the clock strikes twelve, following his line of vision on every rusted compartment of the vehicle. Stood attentively at his side as he pointed out the carefully crafted machinery, listing their parts despite Ellie’s protest of forgetfulness. There are so many names for everything; Building cars seems so complicated, but curiosity sparks in her. She starts to think: maybe cars aren’t so boring.

Another sleepless night for the both of them; Might as well commit to movie night. Fireworks are still going off in the small neighborhood hours later. The booming colors in the sky makes Joel's teeth grind. Reminds him of the time he took Sarah to Santa Monica Pier.

Joel?

Mhm?

… What favor did you owe my mom?

Thickness builds in his throat the second Ellie mentions her. He sets the large bowl of chocolate-doused popcorn onto the coffee table, reaching for the remote to turn the movie down. Not off, down. Ellie hates feeling like she’s being scolded.

Joel doesn’t look at her, but her eyes are glued on the side of his face.

Umm… He scratches his face, Did your mom ever mention me to you? Ellie denies with a hum.

Joel’s mind whirs back to the first time he met Anna: sophomore year. He was exhausted, drained, barely making it, but despite being miserable, he still cared deeply for his education. He studied until his eyes burned, jotted down notes until his hand cramped and the librarian was gently urging him to head home.

She… We were friends in college. He fonds, We met at an ice cream truck.

Weird. Ellie notes causally, She hates dairy.

… Yeah. She does. Joel coughs to mask the brokenness in his voice.

Anna was… a genius, to put it lightly. Academically gifted to an intimidating degree. Her mind was a camera; She’d scan one excerpt from the thickest novel once and still manage to repeat it word for word years later. They had comms together; Her voice sounded like tweeting birds whenever she recited her prepared speech like it was nothing. She was an emotional speaker, entranced everyone in the room, and always ended with a question that forced students and professors to self-reflect. Joel wouldn’t call it a crush… Merely admiration. Envy. He was motivated whenever he left comms.

He’ll never forget the image of her, sweating and worn, carrying what seemed like a twenty-pound backpack — all stuffed with calculus books — while ordering a can of Sprite from the humming, beaten down truck. Anna didn’t leave after the vendor handed her the soft drink. She simply turned to Joel, inspected him from head to toe, and turned back to the vendor.

I’ll cover whatever he gets, too. With a thumb aimed at him. He nearly choked.

A free snow cone couldn’t halt the racing in his chest.

I know what you are.

What, He questioned without a stutter.

You fix cars? Anna quirked a brow at him. Joel’s brows pull downward. How did she know that? He’s fixed one car since he’s been enrolled. His buddy pulled up in front of his dorm asking for a windshield repair. But he shrugs, feigning nonchalance. I dunno.

The green-eyed girl scoffs and sips from her nearly emptied can.

You down to replace a tire? Some jackass thought it would be funny to leave a rusty nail in our parking lot.

Our. She must have roommates… or lives where he does, he thinks. For how much? Not a beat missed.

Her shoulders lift, I dunno. How much does a tire cost?

Depends on the model. What d’you drive?

A chevy. Don’t ask the year, I’m not sure. It was a hand-me-down.

A slight pause between them before Anna suggests with a sigh,

Come see ‘er.

Thar she blows.

Joel can’t help but snicker at the woman in front of him, posing right next to her teetered vehicle. It’s quite charismatic; the bright pink bumper stickers, the crisp turquoise paint job, the slight scratch on the trunk. It’s nice. Classically vintage; it suits her.

A beauty, he notes with his eyes locked onto Anna’s. She gives a hum in agreement.

Revive her, if ya don’t mind. I’m desperate and can’t sue, so. Joel nods and inspects the damage on her tire. The air is nearly fully gone, and it’s making her drive slump.

Tire shouldn’t be more than thirty-five… Gonna have to head home for some stuff. Willing to wait an hour? When he turns to her, they’re shoulder to shoulder.

Anna smirks, Whatever you need, mechanic.

My dad, Joel corrects, He taught me the basics when I was like… twelve.

Her voice lowers, Good on him… Earned me a discount, eh? A hand claps down on his shoulder and gives it an encouraging squeeze, and he revs to life.

He swears the tips of his ears are red hot, Sure… minus that deposit. I needa twenty for emotional damages.

Fuck off. Her eyes are soft, Might never go to the shop again. You’re officially my car fixer-upper. Fuck these grease-balls n’ their price spikes.

Joel snorts, You get into that many goddamn accidents?

She leans in closer, and his throat closes. Slams shut. Turns to dust.

You’ll find out, mechanic.

That’s why you’re spending so much time on it, Ellie notes at Joel’s retelling before a harsh gasp escapes her. Dude, were you in love with my mom or somethin’?

The man stutters and coughs, No — what? I told you she was a frien—

Ellie snickers with a judgmental point, Yeaaah, yeaaah, I know how these things go. You sucker!

What the hell — I’m not a sucker… And what things—

Anna and Joeeel sitting in a tree! —

A pillow smacks Ellie dead in the face, and she topples over in cackles. Joel rubs deep in his temples. Ellie would’ve loved Sarah. Two little bullies who feast on his suffering.

No more storytelling. I’m going to bed.

You can’t! Remember? Ellie hollers as tears fall from her eyes. She coos at Joel when he lifts himself off the couch and down the hall, trying to mask his small smile.

Aww! C’mon, old man, it was a joke!

I can’t wait for you to go back to school, ya vermin!

An exhausted Ellie creeps into Joel’s room half an hour later. She sighs in relief when she doesn’t hear snoring. Her mom was the worst when she was tired. She tiptoes across the carpeted floors until she’s in front of the unoccupied side of the mattress, stealthily adjusting the blankets and pulling back the sheets.

She slowly manages to tuck herself in, fixing the pillows so her head rests on the cold side of the case, exhaling happily at the warmth defrosting her limbs.

The second she dozed off, she yanked to consciousness by raspy sarcasm. Her eyes roll underneath her lids.

You can’t, either. Joel croaks, Remember?

JANUARY, 2010

Five days until school. Five days until misery. Five days until… strangers. Ellie’s skin crawls whenever she thinks about being an enclosed space with snot-nosed boys and soggy lunches.

And math… Gross.

Joel has been more than willing to postpone Ellie’s enrollment whenever she becomes anxious, but she always denies his requests. She’s grown to like Joel, but… he’s not the best teacher, especially social studies. Reviewing one of her old packets nearly gave him an aneurysm. She can’t afford to be homeschooled by him.

What's been the best distraction from her impending doom?

Binge watching Cars for the billionth time… And helping Joel patch up that blue Chevy.

They celebrated their first victory last night for repairs, at least: Joel stuck and twisted the key to start up the engine, and it managed to stutter to life. For less than five seconds. The headlights barely came on and an old Foreigner record broke through the crackly speaker. They rejoiced with the brightest smiles as their hands slapped the dashboard before the vehicle crashed out once more.

A glimmer of hope. A chance for reconnection. Anna’s sending them messages. The joy in that car shifted to grievance; Joel had to cradle Ellie in his lap as she wept into his shoulder.

But there’s hope. Ellie wanted nothing more than to get this car working after that. Duty calls, though, and the alarm’s coming from a backpack.

You got this, kid. Stop stressin’.

Ellie, without a doubt in her mind, does not got this.

Screaming children, muddy slides, bloody band aids; they’re all on the other side of that office door. Her worst nightmare has come to life, and she desires nothing more than to hide out in her mom’s car forever. The bag strapped around her shoulders matches the weight of a body. She refuses to let go of Joel’s hand as he speaks with the giggly receptionist who’s too happy to see him (what the hell), but it's okay; he’s holding hers just as tightly. Just as paranoid, apparently.

She’ll be with Mrs. Lawson for the remainder of the year. Ellie hears the receptionist say over her pounding heart, She’s incredible! I’m sure they'll develop an amazing bond.

Ellie’s palms are sweltering. Joel must feel it because his thumb nuzzles into her wrist. She’s not built for this. Maybe returning so soon wasn’t a great idea. She can’t do this without her mom.

Cool backpack, Spidey, is said from behind her, and she stiffens instantly.

She has a Spider-man backpack.

Hush. An older man’s voice replies. Sounds strained. Stressed, but he only receives a light snicker from her in return.

Ellie watches with squinted eyes as a young girl gets escorted towards the front of the office by… the principal, she assumes? He seems fancy in his suit slacks.

You stay right here until I get your uncle on the phone, The suited man is stern towards the girl, who plops down on one of the waiting chairs. Backpack and all, You can explain to him how you swore at a teacher. I’m not dealing with this from you today.

M’kay, Mr. Harris.

Ellie observes the entire scene indiscreetly. Her stares are obvious, glued to the clearly agitated dean who stomps into his office.

Where’d you get your backpack?

Ellie’s stunned at your sudden whisper. She shocks herself when she quietly stutters,

Um… Walmart?

You smile, I like it. I want one.

Ellie simply nods, but gets paused before she can redirect her attention to Joel.

Are you new? Your voice grows quieter when you look over your shoulder. Right at the principal’s door. I am, too. I just moved schools.

This shocks the brunette. The new year just started, and you're already locked in the office with evidently angry staff.

Yeah… I’m new.

Something in your grin shifts. Ellie’s nails lock into Joel’s hand. … Interesting—

Young lady! Did Mr. Harris give you permission to speak?

You audibly ponder like the attendance clerk asked you to solve a riddle.

No, ma’am. I apologize.

Then hush. Not another word.

Ellie watches you fold your hands politely, twiddling your thumbs. Your eyes don’t leave her backpack.

Ready, kiddo?

Her eyes finally reconnect with Joel’s, encouraging and chocolate, and she nods. He guides her to the office exit where her new life resides. Before their departure, she can’t help but take one last respectful glance over her shoulder. She finds you staring with a quirked lip and your wrist outstretched like your shooting spider webs at her. Ellie jerks her head forward and releases the breath she’s been holding.

What a weirdo.

tagggiiiiessss :3: @inf3ct3dd @fleshunger @sawaagyapong @elliesbitchh @aouiaa @elliesatchel @williamellieslilho @elliewilliamgfooc @bready101 @myluvforstarz

#ellie williams smut #ellie williams au #ellie williams #ellie williams angst #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams tlou #lesbian #streetracer!ellie #works 𖧧࣪#ellie williams x f!reader

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beneaththeiceomic · 2 months

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Final character designs + how they’d write their names!

#beneath the ice #character art #final design #unless I decide otherwise #I’m really new to this whole comic thing #I’m sorry page 1 won’t be out for a while so enjoy character content #I’m gonna post some drawings of side characters soon #Digital art #Digital drawing #I hated their old designs so here we goooooo #It’s my story and I change the character’s appearances willy-nilly if I want to #Webcomic #beneath the ice comic #oc art #original character #Anne-Lisse #Idalia

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backtothefanfiction · 20 days

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20 Minutes | dad!peter imagine

A/N: just a quick one before I sleep. I saw a gif from we live in time and just suddenly became very needy for some dad Peter again. It’s been a little while, hope you enjoy. If you know the Bluey episode that inspired, you are a real one and I have love for you. Also MJ stands for May Junior

Warnings: this is just some dad!peter fluff, everyday domestic parent stuff even though your hubby is the local superhero

The moment he climbs through the window, he’s already wishing he was back in the other side of it.

“Ahhh good, you’re home.” You say cheerfully as you enter the room. “Here, hold this.” You say, holding out your two and a half month old to him, just as a cry of “Muuuuuuuuumm!” called out to down the hall.

“What? The? Huh? What?” Peter frowns at you confused as he stands in the middle of the room in his spider suite, toddler in his outstretched hands as you’re already beginning to leave the room, another call of “muuuuuuuuummm!” echoing down the hall.

“I just need 20 minutes.” You tell him.

“But I just got in.” He protests.

“20 minutes.” You reason cheerfully, like it’s no time at all and he will be fine.

“Maaaaaaaahhhhmmm!” The voice down the hall comes again and he can see the way your shoulders rise and the corners of your lip twitch at your 4 year olds whine of your household moniker.

“Daddy’s coming in just a minute!” You call back to the young girl out in the living room.

“Can I at least take the suit off?” Peter tries to reason as the toddler in his hand starts to pull at the stretchy material.

“Just 20 minutes.” You repeat to him again as you begin to back away. “20 minutes.” You say. You can hear his small frustrated huff that no doubt was paired with the famous Parker eye roll, but you didn’t care. If you didn’t get 20 minutes to yourself and a moment to go to the bathroom in peace, you were probably going to throw yourself out of the window your husband just climbed through.

Okay maybe that was a little dramatic, but in your defence he had been out longer than he said he would on patrol and MJ has regressed back into her clingy phase. As you locked the bathroom door and pulled out your phone in order to have a quick scroll through social media and a catch up whilst you sat on the loo, the reason for your husbands tardiness quickly became apparent.

There was video after video popping up of footage from peoples phones of Spider-Man saving a family from a car wreck. As you watched the masked figure swing into action again and again from different angles, watched him pull the two kids from the back of the burning car, your irritation before quickly subsided, instead making way for pride; for your husband, his family values, his care for the people of your community. Memory after memory of him sharing both special and also mundane moments with your two children flooded your mind, making your heart glow and your tummy all fuzzy and warm.

When you eventually emerged from the bathroom 20 minutes later and made your way back down the hall, that fuzzy feeling only grew as you saw him sat on the sofa with your two children tucked in tightly to either side of him. He had put on your fluffy robe over the top of his suit, the legs and sleeves poking out beneath the pink fabric comically, as he read a book to them.

As he turned the last page, MJ cried, “Again, again, read it again daddy.”

“But May, I’ve already read it to you three times. Maybe we should give another book a go.” He tried to sway her.

“Again!” She insisted and you loved the way he laughed with her as she giggled at her own cheekiness.

He looked up to you then as you leant against the door frame, hopefully. “Or maybe Mommy can read it.” He stated.

“Orrr,” you began to counter as you saw May’s eyes light up at the sight of you and the prospect of you reading her, her favourite book of the moment for the umpteenth time that day, “we could go out for ice cream.” You suggested.

There was a piercing shriek as May got up from the sofa at the sound of the trigger word. “IIICCCEEEECREEEEAAMM!” She screeched before running off to find her shoes.

“Ice cream?” Peter asks with raised brow as he stands to hand off your youngest back to you.

“Yeah,” you say with a coy smile, “I think we’ve all earned it.”

“Well, if that’s the case, I best go get out of this suit then.” He muses.

“Oh really?” You whine. “But this is such a good look on you.” You joke.

“It’s a good thing I love you Mrs Parker.” He grins, a leaning forward to kiss your lips.

“I love you too.” You smile.

“IIIICCEEEEE CRRREEEAAAMMM!” May bellowed excitedly as she came back in the room, her shoes on the wrong feet and her jacket inside out. Both of you couldn’t help but laugh.

“You get changed, I’ll help her out.” You smile.

“I love you.” He says again as he begins to back away. “You’re my hero!” He shouted across the room to you, reminding you your just as resilient and heroic as he was- and sure, you couldn’t swing from buildings or save kids from the back of burning cars, but you could look after both your kids alone for 6-8 hours of the day and live to tell the tail; and that in itself was a heroic act too.

#for the mums #peter parker x reader #andrew!peter parker #peter parker #peter parker imagine #spider-man #andrew!peter x reader #tasm!peter parker #tasm peter parker x reader #dad peter imagine #dad peter is a dilf!#dad!peter x reader

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throatofdelusionincarnate · 5 months

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Honeybee

Horror! Sans x Reader Oneshot

Here’s a little self indulgent crap from me to you because I cannot get my mind off of Horror Sans lately :)

Might be posted to AO3 later under the same username throatofdelusionincarnate

Word Count - 2,478

—

The soft grumble of thunder draws you from your sleep. You turn, glancing at the clock on the bedside table and blink a few times. Six thirty. On a Saturday. You rub your eyes and sigh. Soft rain patters against the window of your apartment and beside you Sans slumbers on.

You watch his large chest rise and fall for a moment. When you first got together, you thought it was a choice he consciously made. Something to make him seem more human. Though, after months together, you had realized it was just something he did. Perhaps it serves a purpose, pumping magic through his body as yours does blood. Or maybe it’s just a subconscious habit that he’s picked up. Either way, his large breaths comfort you.

Gently, you place a hand on his skull, just directly under the large wound that decorates the top of his head, and stroke his cheek with your thumb.

You won’t be able to go back to sleep, not with the growing thunderstorm outside. Still, there’s no reason to wake him up. You know how difficult it is for him to sleep, and you’d prefer that he gets the rest he needs. You can entertain yourself for a couple of hours.

You lean forward and place a chaste kiss on his brow bone. He stirs for a moment, then returns to his rest, a stifled snore escaping. A small laugh leaves you and after one final peck on his nasal cavity you swing your legs over the bed.

The apartment is cold, per usual, and goosebumps climb up your legs before spreading to your arms, then tips of your fingers. You shuffle towards the closet, each step feeling like ice beneath your feet.

You disappear inside the small walk-in, shutting the door before turning on the light. The sudden brightness causes you to squint, and for a moment you only stand there, adjusting to the feeling of being awake.

Once you can finally see, you rummage through your clothing for pants and some socks. You slip on a pair of very loved sweatpants, tying them at the waist so they don’t fall down. Then, you perform your best balancing act as you put on your socks. Regrettably, you roll the sweatpants over them, hiding the bacon decal and the phrase “make today sizzle!”

After your legs and feet are successfully bundled up, you turn to Sans’s stash of clothing and grab out a comically large grey sweatshirt with red lettering that says “BAD TO THE BONE” on it. You slip it over your pj shirt, allowing the hem to hang just above your knees. You swim through the sleeves for a moment before your hands emerge and you can push the cuffs to sit at your wrist.

You shut off the closet light then stumble out of the dark bedroom as Sans continues to softly snore.

The world is quiet save for the interspersed roll of thunder. So long as you’re up, you might as well make some breakfast. By the time you finish Sans will most likely be awake. His rest comes in short bursts.

If you remember correctly he crawled into bed at two last night. Four hours is longer than he normally sleeps, but the rain does tend to make him more tired than usual.

You pull your phone out of your pocket and click on the music app and press shuffle. A soft song radiates from the speaker and you leave the phone propped up on the counter to play as you cook.

Slowly, you collect your ingredients, settling for pancakes and bacon. You hum along to the song, whisking pancake mix together with milk, extra vanilla, and a dash of orange juice.

The rain grows heavier outside, pounding against the kitchen window. The occasional streak of lighting brightens the room before thunder overtakes it.

You pry open the package of bacon and set a few slices in the pan, watching them curl and sizzle against the heat.

Thunder booms and you jump as a large set of arms are folded around your waist.

“m’ sorry. didn't mean to scare you.” You settle into the grip, looking up to see Sans standing over you.

A small laugh spills from you. “The thunder startled me, though I still can’t get over how quiet you walk.” He leans his head down and you press a quick kiss to his teeth. “Did I wake you?”

He straightens back up and shakes his head. “nah, storm got loud. slept for too long anyways.”

Gently, the two of you begin to sway. He rests his skull on top of your head. You pull an arm free to grab a fork then flip the bacon over to let the other side darken. “Ah yes, because five hours is such a crazy amount of time to sleep.”

Sans just hums in response. The two of you will probably end up on the couch today, so you’re almost certain that Sans will get another couple hours of sleep. You might sneak in a little nap yourself. The rain is definitely making you drowsy despite just having woken up.

“Chocolate chips in your pancakes?” You ask, pulling out the bacon and setting it on a paper towel-lined plate.

“you know me so well,” he rumbles above you.

“I should hope so,” you grab a small measuring cup and dip it into the batter, then pour it onto the pan to cool. “We’ve been dating for almost a year now. I’d be a poor partner if I didn’t know how you liked your pancakes,” You pour more batter into the pan.

“You’re gonna have to let me go if you want chocolate chips.”

“or we could awkwardly shuffle over to the cabinet together.” Sans offers.

You roll your eyes and tap on his arm, “C’mon big guy, let go.”

A small gasp escapes you as you're lifted off your feet. Sans cradles you, a large grin on his face. “hmm… don’t think I will.”

You squirm a bit in his grasp, giving him a playful glare. “Sans the pancakes are going to burn.”

“i like mine a little crispy anyways.” He says.

“Well i don't!”

He shrugs, red eyes tracing over your features. “i ‘spose i can be persuaded… if ya got something good to offer in exchange for your freedom.”

“How about a not-charred breakfast?” You answer.

“tempting, but i might need a bit more. inflation is crazy right now.”

You sputter under his gaze. “You’re unbelievable!”

Though despite your protests, you stretch upwards, pressing your lips to his teeth. Sans returns the gesture, melting into you before pulling away. “There, now can I flip the pancakes?”

“m’ afraid you forgot tax.”

“Oh my god,” you deadpan. “How do you stay open with these business practices?” This time, you reach your hands up and pull his skull to you. Your nose presses against his cheek and you nuzzle him.

“what can i say,” Sans beams, red eye blown out and a light blush on his face. “my customers are very loyal.”

Finally he sets you down, though one hand still holds yours. “No accounting for taste,” you say, giving his fingers a quick squeeze before letting go.

Sans lingers, turning to lean against the counter as you grab chocolate chips. You scurry back to the pan and open up the bag before sprinkling the chocolate all over the pancakes. Then, you grab a spatula and flip them.

The tops are a very dark brown, verging on black. “These are yours,” you declare, nudging Sans with your hip.

He shrugs, “m’ not picky.”

You smile, “Yea I know. You’re my big cuddly garbage disposal.”

“who else is gonna eat the tomatoes off your burgs?” Sans’s hand sneaks forward, slipping into the bag of chocolate chips. He pulls out a small handful and tosses them into his mouth.

Playfully, you swat at him. “We’re not gonna have enough for the pancakes if you eat all of them.”

He ignores you, and grabs a single chip out. Sans makes eye contact with you, and you silently return it, daring him to. He does. With a self-satisfied grin he pops it into his mouth.

“You little shit!” You exclaim, snatching the bag up and setting it on the opposite side of you, away from his reach.

“awhhh c’mon hun,” he attempts to reach over you but you place your full weight against him to keep him back. You know he can easily move you if he wants to, but this is just play. Plus, he enjoys letting you win. “it’s just a few chocolate chips, i ain’t hurtin’ anyone.”

“I would like some in my pancakes,” you huff. “Once I’m done with them you can have as many as you wang.” You let up on the pressure and grab the spatula, putting the two slightly burnt pancakes on a plate. Gently, you push it into Sans’s hands. “Go butter these, hm?”

He sighs, “making me do manual labor this early in the morning? butter be grateful you’re cute.”

You snort, “Awh, you’re making me melt.”

“heh, good one. this is why you’re my butter half.”

Sans moves past you, plate in hand. As he crosses, you can see a skeletal hand try to reach into the bag. You gasp, and slam your hand down on the opening just before Sans can steal anymore chocolate.

“my genius plan, thwarted.”

“Butter luck next time,” you grin, hand still over the bag.

He chuckles, “you might’ve won for now, but I’m gonna get that chocolate eventually.”

He walks to the table, stopping quickly to grab a knife from the silverware drawer, then sets to work on doctoring up his pancakes.

With him gone you whip up a couple more batches, saving a generous handful of chocolate chips for Sans. The lull of rain and music settles you after your playful banter and you find yourself lightly humming along as you gather various accouterments for your meal.

You set the plate of pancakes in front of Sans and he gets to work on buttering those while you travel back and forth from the kitchen. You bring out the bacon, whip cream, syrup, and then two glasses with a couple juice options.

Finally, you settle in your seat across from Sans. He offers you the plate of pancakes first, knowing that you’ll take whatever you want and then he can have the rest.

You take two of the six and stack them on your plate before handing it back to Sans. Then you grab a couple of slices of bacon before sliding that over too. He eyes food and grabs the syrup, dousing his plate with it.

“Oh!” You exclaim, standing up. He lifts his gaze curiously as you dart back into the kitchen, grabbing the remaining chocolate chips. You set the bag in front of him. “For you!”

Sans smiles, pouring out a couple, “thanks hun.” He reaches across the table and gingerly arranges them in a small smiley on your pancakes.

You grin down at the happy looking face, “I hate to destroy such a cute gesture.”

“here lemme help,” Sans plucks one of the eyes off and eats it.

“Hey!” You protest playfully, reaching over to nab one of his chocolate chips. “There. We’re even.”

“‘spose we are,” He beams. “eat your food before it gets cold.”

You don’t have to be told twice. The two of you tuck into breakfast, a comfortable silence overtaking the room as you both enjoy the meal before you.

The constant rumble of thunder keeps you company as you finish up. Sans stands first, having finished his large plate of food, and grabs the serving dishes to take them to the sink. You stay behind, a bit slower at eating, and finish your food. Once done, you stand and bring your dirty dishes to the kitchen.

“you can just leave ‘em in the sink.’ He offers.

You nod, setting the dishes in the sink, then reach around to grab the washcloth. Gently, you nudge him to the side so you can wet the fabric down. You squeeze out any excess water and move back out of Sans’s way.

Quickly, you start the music back up and begin to wipe down the counters. A smooth voice comes out of the speakers as “Honeybee” by The Steam Powered Giraffes begins to play.

As you clean off the counters, removing any specks of flour and grease, you sing along. Behind you, Sans also begins to hum. You smile to yourself, enjoying the rasp of his deep baritone.

Everything is a peaceful, perfectly curated mix of noises that comforts you.

The sink shuts off and the clatter of dishes stops. Large arms squeeze your waist then spin you around to face them.

You look up at Sans, washcloth still in hand, and arch a brow. He removes the cloth from your grasp and replaces it with his hand, his smooth bony fingers enveloping yours.

His other hand stays at your waist and the two of you begin to sway. You get the hint and place your free hand on his chest, not quite tall enough to comfortably reach his shoulder.

Sans’s wide eye doesn’t leave you, and his usual expression melts into something akin to fondness.

“You didn’t have to smile at me, your grin’s the sweetest that I’ve ever seen. But you did. Yes, you did.” You sing softly as the two of you hold each other.

He brings your hand up to his teeth, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. You practically become a puddle. Your head rests on his chest, cheek pressing firmly into his shirt. His smell envelops you. It’s chalky and tinged with blood, but you don’t mind.

The two of you had made peace with his gory past long ago. Survival isn’t pretty, but in the face of starvation one does what must be done. Now, all you can do is keep him full and offer comfort and affection when he has a difficult day.

“you didn’t have to offer your hand. ‘cause since i’ve kissed it, i’m at your command. but you did.”

The world around you seems to disappear, and you cling to him, savoring the rumble that reverberates through his soul when he sings.

“set me free, my honeybee.”

As the storm rages outside, you and Sans remain. You know that neither of your lives have been perfect. His, less so than most. But in this moment, you’re grateful for everything that brought you together. You’re grateful for burnt pancakes and stolen chocolate chips; for thunderstorms and way too early mornings. You’re grateful that you get to call Sans yours.

Hello goodbye, I’m rather crazy, and I never thought I was crazy.

But what do I know?

I let myself go.

#horror sans #horrortale #horror sans x reader #horror sans x reader oneshot #sans x reader #sans undertale #undertale #reader insert #horror!sans #horror!sans x reader #fluff #dancing in the kitchen #I love that big man with all my heart #easily one of the sans ever #ehehheheheh baby boy #mwah !#my writing #oneshot #murph monologues

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ckret2 · 1 year

Text

This chapter is a whole lot of Bill and Ford talking and I couldn't think of a good illustration for it, so have a funny comic instead.

Here's chapter 9 of The Pines Have Captured Human Bill Cipher And Nobody Is Happy About It (otherwise known as Wasting Away Again in the Goldilocks Zone). Sept 13 2024 - now updated for TBOB compatibility!

####

Ford knocked on the bathroom door. "Time's up. You've had your two hours, Cipher."

There was no reply.

Ford glanced at Stan.

Stan grumbled under his breath and cracked his knuckles. "BILL!" He pounded on the door. "Either you come out of the bathroom, or we're dragging you out by your ankles!"

No reply.

"That's it," Stan snapped. Ford nodded in agreement and took a step back to cover Stan as he opened the door.

The bathroom reeked of chemically-enhanced rotten eggs. From knee-height down, every single surface in the room was plastered with curly blond hair. Behind the bath tub—naked, curled up in a ball, and hiding beneath a towel like a child—was Bill.

Stan and Ford gaped at the scene. And then they cracked up.

"Most—" Stan wheezed, "Most people just use shampoo! But hey, whatever floats your boat!"

Trying to sound stern and failing, Ford said, "I hope you plan to help clean this up."

Bill didn't reply.

Stan coughed and pounded on his chest. "Gah. Almost choked on my dentures."

"How did you do this? I know we removed the blades from the room." Ford was glad he'd put on his boots. He picked up a bottle of hair removal cream from the bath tub and tested the weight. Almost empty. "You didn't use this on your scalp, did you? It's far too caustic to use around the face."

Stan asked, "How do you know?"

"I've experimented with many shaving techniques, Stanley."

Bill didn't reply.

"Bill?" Ford's smile faded. "Did you burn yourself?" If he was burned badly enough, that was an infection risk—the last thing they needed was to haul their prisoner to a doctor...

He took another step toward Bill. Bill tightened his arms around his knees and retreated further into the corner. And still he said nothing.

####

Stan and Ford agreed that dragging Bill's naked butt out of the bathroom wouldn't do anything to help protect Gravity Falls from the horrible alien triangle menace, and also wouldn't make them feel particularly noble; so they left the door open, told Bill to get dressed and get out, Stan went back to bed, and Ford sat in the attic window seat to wait.

It took almost thirty minutes before Ford heard Bill trudging upstairs. He had dressed, thank goodness, but still had the towel draped over his head, like a Victorian widow in a mourning veil. Ford wondered if it was bad to find the sight of his obvious distress so funny, or if the fact that it was Bill made it okay.

Bill got close enough to his window seat nest to spy Ford's boots from beneath his towel, veered off to the side, and curled up in a corner of the attic.

"Well," Ford said, to say something; and then drew a blank. Finally, he said, "The next time you claim you're out of practice at a basic human task, I'll believe you."

Ford could have sworn he heard the towel-covered lump hiss like a leaky tire. Had he gotten a laugh?

The ice broken, Ford went on: "Are you injured? That stuff can burn even when used correctly. And—you did not use it correctly."

No response.

"Just—why did you—why?"

No response.

"Say something so I know I don't have to call an ambulance and tell them you're in shock." Ford did not relish the idea of explaining a mysterious woman with no ID to a hospital.

Apparently, neither did Bill, because he muttered, "I don't need medical assistance." And then, "So I didn't want hair. Baldness isn't a sin. Get off my back."

"That's a heck of a way to get rid of it."

"Yeah, wow, I guess so. I wonder why I didn't just use a razor."

"You could have... You could have asked for a shave."

Bill let out another tire-wheeze laugh. At the thought of asking for help, or at the thought that he'd have received it?

"Bill—"

"Go away."

Ford frowned; but he got up, headed downstairs, and shut the bathroom door as he passed so Bill couldn't go back in.

And a few minutes later, came back with a sandwich made out of the first odds and ends he could find in the fridge, and a six pack of hard apple cider. "Here." He set the plate and six pack on the floor near Bill. "Mrs. Ramirez hasn't touched it, I promise."

Bill didn't move, not even to see what food Ford had brought.

Ford shifted his footing nervously, his common sense insisting that he'd demonstrated all the decency he was obliged to and that it was time to go; and then he sat down again on the window seat. "Listen," he said. "Bill." (He shouldn't be doing this, he shouldn't be talking to Bill Demon-Triangle Dimension-Destroyer Cipher, eternal nemesis, ruiner of Ford's life, threatener of his family; but right now, it was hard to see Bill Cipher beneath the hurting human.) "I've—been here before. I know what it's like to—to be trapped in an alien dimension, surrounded by hostile locals, with no way home." He tried not to think about the fact that Bill was the main reason Ford had been trapped, or that Ford was now one of the hostile locals, or that the locals (and Ford especially) had a damn good reason to be hostile to Bill, or that they all didn't want Bill to get home. He was kind of curious find out where the heck he was going with this conversation. "I know what that... grief is like."

Ford thought it might be an insult to suggest Bill was capable of grief; but Bill didn't twitch. Ford went on. "I know how tempting it is to—to ignore everything but the fight ahead. Never mind hot food, shelter, showers, fresh clothes, a comfortable bed. Luxuries you can tend to when your work is done. But—a fire can't keep burning without fuel and fresh air. Depriving yourself those 'luxuries' doesn't turn you into some ascetic warrior-monk. It simply... burns you out. It makes it that much harder to achieve anything." Ford shrugged. "I—learned that the hard way."

He tried not to think about the fact that Bill had been the fight Ford had burned himself out for. Or the fact that Bill no doubt saw Ford as his fight. Or the fact that Ford didn't want Bill to achieve anything. He immediately regretted the decision to find out where he was going with this conversation. What was he doing?

Voice muffled, Bill said, "You think you're the only person who's ever had to get used to an alien dimension before?"

And Ford remembered—a moment too late—that Bill had destroyed his home. It was so easy to take that information, the horrific enormity of it, and stop there; but follow the implications one step further, and that meant Ford had never once seen Bill in his own dimension. As long as Ford had known him and billions of times longer, Bill had been a stranger in a strange land. Ford should write off this conversation as a loss and leave.

"This isn't my first rodeo," Bill said. "But hey, thanks for coming back up just to patronize me. It's really what I needed tonight."

To hell with leaving. Ford wasn't letting Bill get the last word in after he'd tried to do something nice. "This is your first time being a human in an alien dimension," Ford pointed out. "You said it yourself earlier—I've bathed hundreds of times since you last did. As an energy being, you've never had to make time for regular showers, or sleep, or exercise, or..." He almost said food but paused. He'd seen Bill eat as a triangle. Was that fun or necessity? Never mind. "You probably think those chores are beneath you—but your body needs them whether you like it or not."

Bill laughed harshly. "Wow, this is rich coming from Dr. Food Pills who bathes monthly."

"Hey! I've improved since my postdoc days and if you were half the stalker I know you are you'd know that!"

Bill didn't argue; he just changed his angle of attack and muttered, "'Eat better and bathe more,' says the guy who locked me out of the fridge and bathroom."

"I—" Well. Ford couldn't really argue with that. And he didn't regret it. "I know it's... not an ideal situation." The opportunity hung in the air for an and I'm sorry, and Ford self-consciously hurried past it. It was the thing one said in these situations, but it wasn't true. He wasn't sorry, he shouldn't be sorry, Bill was here on death row. "But I'm just trying to..." The sentence died. Why, exactly, was he trying to help Bill?

"Why would I want any help from you?" Bill's voice was venomous; and under the circumstances, Ford couldn't fault him for that. "Even if you didn't kill me and capture me! For all your talk of needing shelter and comfort when you're stuck in another dimension—you never accepted any help from me. But you think I can't take care of myself?"

Ford stared at Bill. (Not that there was much to stare at, except the top of a towel.) "I never accep—? You never offeredany help!" Not that he would have accepted it if Bill had, but just the outrageous suggestion that Bill had been—what?—charitably offering interdimensional refugee services that Ford had stubbornly turned down—?

"I never got the chance! You dove into the first wormhole you could find—you didn't even bother to say 'hi'!"

"Why would I say 'hi' after everything you—! Plus, you placed a bounty on my head! Within thirty seconds of my arrival!"

"So I got excited!" Bill uncurled just enough to shrug. "Anyway, the bounty was to bring you to me alive! C'mon, Stanford, I know you steered away from the frats in college, but you know what a little friendly hazing is, right?"

Flabbergasted, Ford echoed, "'Hazing'?" And then, even more disbelieving, "'Friendly'?"

"Sure!" One eye, almost luminescent in the shadows beneath the towel, peered over Bill's knees. As if Bill was as baffled as Ford and needed to see him for himself. "You built us a portal, you got cast out of your dimension into ours—you were gonna get a hero's welcome! You'd joined the gang! You were one of us!"

"I'd—spent weeks trying to stop you!"

"So?"

Ford gaped. Bill was a liar, he reminded himself—a liar, a manipulator, and a conman. He'd say anything to portray himself however he thought most useful. Ford remembered arriving in the Nightmare Realm. He'd relived it over and over—in hundreds, if not thousands of nightmares. "That was no welcome party. You were surrounded by an army of monsters."

"Hey, those are my pals you're talking about!" Bill laughed—a sincere, easy sound. It was unnerving, how real that laugh sounded. "Hate to point out the obvious, Sixer, but you've got a handshake that '30s Hollywood woulda designed a whole movie monster around. Who are you to judge appearances!"

Ford's thoughts flashed briefly to the Glass Shard Beach freak show he'd met as a child—the humans who'd called themselves "monsters" and who'd called Ford their "abnormal ally," the frightening friendly freaks who'd welcomed him warmly. He pushed the thought away. Bill wasn't running some kind of weirdo sanctuary; he thought making Ford think he was would win him some sympathy. "You were sitting on a throne. Made out of optical illusions. Like a self-appointed tyrant."

"Oh! You noticed my throne!" Bill's head lifted a little more. "Hey, I got that custom made! It's upholstered with the torn fabric of reality! Say, did it look three-dimensional to you? I'm told it looks 3D if you cross your eyes just right, but, well, you need two eyes to cross 'em."

"Wh—" Ford blinked, trying to remember what the throne had looked like. "Was it... not 3D?"

"No way! Do you have any idea what it'd cost to upholster a whole extra dimension in the fabric of reality? I'm not about to drop that kind of gold on a feature I wouldn't even use!" Bill grinned up at Ford. All Ford could see was the one eye and his teeth. "But hey, if you couldn't even tell the difference—I guess the autostereogram detailing was worth it!"

And Ford thought, he means it. Bill, mad thing he was, never thought that being Ford's friend and destroying Ford's universe were mutually incompatible. When he'd arrived in the Nightmare Realm, Bill hadn't been hunting him, he'd been welcoming him. Lounging on his stupid tacky throne, hanging out with his terrible friends, feigning a punch at the new guy to make him flinch before laughing and inviting him to the party. And Ford—sleep-deprived, terrified, paranoid—hadn't seen it.

And then Ford thought, he's lying. It was over thirty years ago—thirty-one, technically (time ticks ever on)—and Bill could say anything he wanted about what he would have done if he'd caught Ford, because he hadn't caught him. Today, Bill probably thought his comfort, if not his very survival, was dependent upon convincing his captors that he was so much less a threat than they thought he was. It's all a harmless misunderstanding! It was no misunderstanding and Bill wasn't harmless.

Ford got to his feet. "We remember that day very differently."

Bill's smile faded into the dark. "Yeah. Guess so." And then his eye disappeared as well as he curled in on himself and vanished under the towel. That wasn't like him. Ford had expected at least a little gaslighting.

Strange body in a strange land. And a recent death (metaphorical or literal, Ford still wasn't sure). Of course Bill was more subdued than usual.

Ford told himself not to worry about Bill. (He was unnerved that he had to tell himself.)

"Well." He gestured vaguely at the sandwich, decided against doing something nice like reminding Bill he needed to eat, and said, "Don't waste food."

He mentally chided himself as he walked downstairs. He'd been careless; he'd almost let his guard down in front of a friend who'd betrayed him. He'd been nice to Bill. He'd tried to encourage Bill to take better care of himself—when Ford was plotting to kill him, for crying out loud! Why? Because the human body made him forget this was Bill? No. Because Bill had tricked Ford into seeing him as a friend again, for just a moment, talking about parties and pals and—of all things—his stupid upholstery? Also no; that had come after Ford had offered compassion. It would have been nice if Ford could have blamed Bill. He'd like to think that he was being manipulated; it would free him from any personal culpability. But Bill hadn't done anything—except look miserable.

And that didn't line up with how Ford remembered Bill. Maybe that was what had thrown him off? But—he wasn't sure. Ford had spent thirty years with his thoughts spiraling around Bill, and now it was hard to think about Bill at all without second-guessing every thought that passed through his head. He was a recovering Cipherholic—and the fastest way to fall off the wagon was getting exposed to your addiction. He'd have to ask Stan for a reality check.

Another question gnawed at him as he kicked off his boots and climbed back into bed. When he'd been cast from his dimension, the portal was still functional, just uncharged. There was nothing Ford could do from within the Nightmare Realm to either reactivate or destroy the portal. Bill had seemed in too good a humor to have had punishment on his mind; and since Ford had been both useless and unthreatening, Bill probably hadn't wanted to recruit him for his help or eliminate him for Bill's safety.

So what had Bill wanted him for?

What had Bill wanted him for?

He'd probably just wanted to kill him. For no particular reason. For fun. Bill didn't need any other reason, Bill was insane.

Ford tried to convince himself that was true.

####

Bill had gotten careless. He almost let his guard down around a friend who'd betrayed him.

He couldn't really blame himself. He was a consummate extrovert with nobody to talk to. Captivity in and of itself was bad enough; but without his friends, he was... bored. That was the word. Bored.

But he was fine.

Bill's stomach ached. He peered at the food Ford had brought.

After a moment, he dragged over the six pack and popped out a can of cider. Nothing better to prove he was fine than some good old I'm Fine Juice.

That bathroom could be useful. He'd never be trusted in there for two hours unsupervised again, but if he mastered the art of the ten-minute shower and claimed he still needed an hour, that would give him some uninterrupted privacy. He could work a little magic in that time, even if he was limited to human capabilities. Most local female humans wore makeup, Melody probably kept hers in the bathroom; and in a pinch, there was toothpaste and shampoo; he could write with those. You could get a lot done with two mirrors, running water, a writing tool, and a human body full of blood.

Maybe he could call for help. Acquiring the supplies to get a call through to Hectorgon or Amorphous Shape would be difficult, much less calling any of his outerplanar pals; but Kryptos kept a psychic line open in dimension 46'\, if Bill got his hands on some candles he could reach him. At least, assuming Kryptos bothered to pick up the call. Bill hated the thought that his fate rested on whether or not the most annoying person in the multiverse felt like taking a call from an unknown number, but what could he do about it? If he could just reach the mindscape, this would be so much easier—

No, that wasn't quite accurate. He could reach the mindscape. He dreamed. He just... couldn't control it.

This body clamped onto his soul like an iron maiden. He couldn't just shed it like an old coat, the way he'd always effortlessly moved in and out of physical bodies before. He'd tried, curled up in the window for hours at a time, meditating silently, reaching for that point where he quietly detached from his borrowed form—but never grasping it. A couple of times the effort had exhausted him into falling asleep.

He knew his way in and out of human bodies—along with plenty of other earthling bodies and the bodies of aliens from countless dimensions. Leaving it should have been easy. There was no good reason for him to still be stuck.

But there were plenty of bad ones.

Three possibilities: thanks to the unconventional way he'd left the Theraprism, his power was still sealed away (if not removed entirely), and he was simply too weak to disentangle himself from this body's neurons; the reincarnation process had fully turned his soul from a triangle into a human; or, something about the Theraprism's machine locked souls into their new bodies. Maybe to keep the newly-rehabilitated from immediately shedding their body and returning to their old ways.

A lock that simply needed to be picked would be the best option—but with his limited powers, it was also the hardest to identify except via process of elimination. He could start by figuring out humans' own techniques for controlling their dreams and shedding their bodies and see if that helped him. (Part of him hoped it wouldn't. If it did, it would be all the more likely that he really was just a human—the worst possible option.) He was sure Ford had done some reading on astral projection at Bill's suggestion, maybe he still had those books somewhere. Bill couldn't just ask for them. Ford wouldn't trust Bill with them.

Not yet, anyway. But with time...?

Ford's little visit had been unexpectedly encouraging. He'd been a fool to ever offer Ford freedom and power instead of leaning on humans' soft spot for vulnerability. The whole woe-is-me routine was clearly working. Even if Ford had probably only pitied him because...

Under the towel, Bill's scalp burned. He could feel the alien contours of his head.

Never mind, never mind, never mind. This was all part of his strategy. This was his plan.

The point was—he thought, for just a moment, he'd gotten a glimpse again of the Ford that was his friend.

Bill could use that.

He'd keep working on Ford, softening him up. Ford had already brought food. Rookie mistake. So few humans realized that once they'd done one favor for someone, they'd set themselves up to make every favor after that a little bit easier. Bill would have Stanford Pines wrapped around his finger again in no time.

And until he'd worked his way back up to big favors, it might be nice to have someone to play chess with again. He was bored. He missed his friends.

He missed home.

He missed himself.

A lump formed in his throat.

To drown it, he popped open the first can of cider, chugged it in several large gulps, and reached for the second.

####

(This is sort of the first chapter we've had to slow down since this fic started, so let me know what y'all think!)

#bill cipher #human bill cipher #grunkle ford #gravity falls #gravity falls fic #gravity falls fanart #my art #my writing #bill goldilocks cipher

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treedaddymcpuffpuff · 1 month

Text

BENEATH MILES OF STONE. XXII ;

❛ chapter map. ❛ John Wick x Fat fem reader. ❛ TW: nsfw. ❛ divider by saradika.

Fear gets her between them faster than she usually can be; she wedges herself into the gap and pushes Michael back.

John barely flinches at the contact with a palm he wasn’t expecting. He reaches for Michael, but stops when she attempts to shove him away with her own weight. The apparent look of anger on his face, comically garnished with flour, not at her but behind, toward her friend, puts her pulse in her ears. The world sways a bit as Michael tries to get past her. She holds firm, using the width of her body to block him off.

“Why are you protecting him?!” Michael demands. “He fucking kidnapped you!”

She and John both grit their teeth at the same time. “I’m not protecting him,” she hisses, looking directly at John but addressing Michael when she says this, terrified for her valiant friend’s life.

John stares at her, eyes narrowed. She stares back defiantly, skin burning and heart rate fast with anticipation. It’s stupid to stand between him and something he wants to maim, but the fact that he doesn’t already have Michael’s neck in his hands is testament that he doesn’t actually want to hurt him… not badly, at least. This calms her down, but she stays firm, blocking Michael from getting at John and vice versa.

Michael rolls his eyes. “I’m so scared.” His tone is mocking.

“Michael, please stop,” she pleads, “I don’t want you to die today, okay?”

Michael snorts and glares at John above her head.

John eyes him for a moment, upper lip twitching from annoyance so subtly that anyone who didn’t really like to look at his face wouldn’t notice.

“What is he doing to you that you’re so afraid of him?” Michael is now suspicious.

She slaps her head into her palm, sighing, and decides to try and mediate with words rather than her body. “He was keeping me safe, Michael. Something happened and I was being stupid for trying to leave.”

Michael sizes him up, and John almost grins. “Uh-huh.”

She opens her mouth, but John answers for her. “Michael?” His voice is calm, which only serves to poke her adrenaline higher.

“John,” Michael replies, spitting the name out better than any high school mean girl ever could.

She interjects. “John,” voice trembling, “This is Michael, he’s my roommate.”

“Hello Michael.”

“Heyyy,” Michael’s voice is laced with disgust.

“Do not hurt him,” she tells John.

Michael rolls his eyes, John rolls his jaw.

Tension sizzles hot, beading sweat on her neck, and she attempts with her softest, pleading-ist voice: “Can we just…start over? Please? I didn’t want it to be like this.”

Michael sighs. “Oh, hun…fine. But he’s on thin fucking ice.”

John finally smiles, with teeth, and even if there is a white powder handprint on his cheek, it doesn’t lessen the intimidation of his features when he does.

“Johnny?” She implores, looking up into his blackened eyes.

“I’m good,” John says.

He sits at the tiny kitchen table with a cold Coke while she looks over the mess on her counters.

“What are you making?” She asks, peering into the bowl.

Michael picks up the stirring spoon and shoves it to her face. “Taste,” he says.

“Michael, this is delicious! John, do you like cinnamon apple bread? Michael makes the best. Fucking. Cinnamon apple bread.”

“Never had,” John replies, toying with the edges of the chipped table.

“You’ve never had cinnamon apple bread?” Michael asks, spinning around.

“Not until nowwww,” she sings, smiling bright at him. “If you’re okay with staying…? John?”

“He better be. There’s no way I’m letting you go that easy.”

He looks between them, shoulders tight, thinking of how he’d be better off in a standoff than here. “Okay.”

The forehead kiss from her is worth it, and Michael, surprisingly, is not insufferable. He’s content to sit on the couch and eat cinnamon bread, which is delicious, and listen to her and Michael catch up and be charmingly nonsensical. A few times, she attempts to include him, before understanding that he’s more comfortable in the role of observer in social interactions, and smiles apologetically before changing course.

He likes watching her. The way she moves and talks, the infinite compassion in that tiny soft body astounds him. The roommate has a little burn on his finger from the oven, and she fusses over it until he lets her patch it up with cream and gauze.

John gets jealous of the way she is with Michael, which doesn’t surprise but does irritate him. While they watch a movie, he pulls her possessively into his side and wraps his arms around her despite halfhearted protests. Maybe he can’t entertain her as well, and make her giggle as endlessly, but he can trap her and never let her go.

So there.

“I can’t believe you’ve never seen this. Popcorn?” She whispers.

He nibbles it off her fingers, unwilling to remove his hands from her waist.

When the movie is done, Michael find an excuse to drag her away for a minute. “It’ll just be a second, need you to tell me what looks best for my date before Johnny boy steals you away again.”

Upon a glance back at John, he is scowling menacingly at the prospect of her being away in another room, and even makes to pull her back from Michael’s clutches before he sees and concedes to the pleading look on her face, and sits back down with a grumble.

Michael is on her as soon as he shuts the bathroom door. “Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god. That. That out there. Jesus Christ, he is delicious.”

“Yeah,” she agrees, not really knowing what else to say, worried that her knight in shining Kevlar is going to get the wrong idea about her and Michael.

“Yeah?!” Michael demands, jumping up on the counter. “Yeah?!” He sighs. “You’re in so much trouble, you know that? That man is gonna eat you alive and pick the bones clean, baby girl.”

Her face screws up, and he holds his palms up to stop the avalanche of thoughts no doubt ready to cascade through her brain. “Now listen,” he says, and she doesn’t, “I am not saying he is in any way too good for you or some dumb shit like that that you’re mind is inevitably concluding. I’m saying that that is a fucking wolf, and you are a sheep, and he’s going to ruin your life and I’m worried.”

Michael might be too perceptive for his own good. “Ruin my life?”

“Ruin you for any other man,” Michael corrects.

Too late for that.

“Babe, I am really not trying to be funny. Blink twice if you need help.”

She tries to contort her face into something other than an amused smile and fails miserably. “I like him Michael. I really like him.”

The understatement of the fucking century.

John helps her pack a bag. He raises an eyebrow upon seeing the dress, a flouncy colorful thing that would pair lovely with braids and his face shoved between her thighs. He puts the bag down on her bed, grabs her while she’s rummaging in her closet, and sticks her up on her little dresser with his hips wedged between her legs.

“John, we—“

His mouth makes her stupid so easily, hands wrapping around her waist and clutching down, saying this is mine without words, and this too while he sucks her upper lip into his mouth.

His tongue seems to find new tender places every time it traverses the expanse of her neck and jaw and collar, the little crevices of honeyed sweat unexplored by any other before him, a treasure under her ear that makes her squeal.

“He’s right,” John says, pressing light kisses over her jaw.

“What?” She breathes, clutching onto his jacket so hard the leather creaks and dents.

“I am going to eat you alive.”

And then he licks the bite from her teeth off her lip, and kisses her so sweetly she wishes he would be meaner just to press some of the ache from her mouth…and heart…and hands and fingers and toes and right between her parting legs where his fingers sneak in and curl.

She’s slippery and soaked, and he raises an eyebrow in amusement at the contrary protest her mouth gives, kisses her again to swallow a low groan as he thumbs at her clit and tugs at her front walls.

She doesn’t want the roommate to hear, doesn’t want him to know she’s a wanton creature with desires and afflictions, and that’s understandable, but unneeded because, “I have you, dollbaby, I’m here. I’ve got you.”

And she’s his no matter what, because he says so. Everything else is trivial.

He makes her cum and lets her bite his flesh so she doesn’t make too much ruckus (a wasted effort, on her part) then pulls his fingers from her tight little cunt and sticks them on her tongue. “Suck,” he says, watching her obey, lick and slurp her own sweet pussy juice of his digits.

His cock flares against his thigh, and he gets jealous, so he has to have a bit of cream for himself before she gets its all.

“See how good you taste?” He asks, fingers leaving in a wet pop from his mouth. “See why I can’t get enough of you?”

She tries to answer, but he kisses her, takes her tongue’s attention from syllables and despite the swollen, sensitive apex of her thighs makes her buck against him for more.

He groans against her mouth, because the dresser puts her right in line with his angry cock, and she grinds up against it, looking up at him through half lidded eyes, shy and needy and completely, helplessly irresistible.

He settles his hand around her collar, and smiles. “Hurry up.”

“Sure you don’t want me to take my time?” She muses, giggling evilly at the prospect of his painfully turgid cock.

“Oh?” He asks, pressing a little harder at her throat and watching her eyes flutter in pleasure. Good to know. “Wanna get fucked like an animal on your dirty blood stained mattress? Let Michael hear me ruin you and that pretty little cunt?”

She squirms, bucks her hips, and he chuckles. Too fucking easy. He loves it. “You little harlot.”

She kisses him again, maybe to shut up him up so her pussy stops clutching violently in need, and he laughs into her mouth despite the ferocity of her tongue and teeth.

“I want you to make love to me,” she tells his lips.

He doesn’t let her turn away from him when she says it, and his heart might as well have been shot through. “Finish packing.”

She smiles one more kiss into his mouth, bumps foreheads, and then lets him take her down off the dresser.

“Do you think this dress is okay?” She pauses, with it bunched in her hands and ready to go into the bag. “Probably not.”

“We can find something else,” he assures, unconcerned but already scheming up a pretty outfit for her.

“Oooooookayyyyyy,” she sighs, pushing it into her bag, anyway. She looks down, into the confines of the dresser it came from, and recognizes the robins blue cover of a forgotten gift, and smiles wide.

“Here, I got this for you.”

The big novel looks so tiny in his hands—it reminds her of when she was a kid, and everything seemed bigger compared to now—as he flips it over and reads the spine. “Oh, have you read this?”

“Uh, no. I just thought you’d like it. It’s about assassins and love. Have you read it?”

“No.” Then, he notices or rather realizes something: She doesn’t own any books. None that he’s seen. No shelf or stash. Her little case of DVDs lying next to the TV is the only entertainment he’s spied, and he wants to know why. “You don’t have any books?”

She shrugs. “I don’t read much. I mean, I used to. When I was young. A lot. But I just have no time for it, with work, you know?”

He blinks at her, feeling suddenly very horrible. Feeling like buying a house and stocking it with every book and movie she wants and keeping her locked in there to read and watch and eat and relax and fuck.

“What?” She crosses her arms in front of her chest defensively.

“I love it,” he motions at the gift.

She gives him one of those smiles that threatens to turn his plasma into syrup and continues packing.

Michael wraps her into a big hug before she goes, glaring over her shoulder at John, who decides then that he likes him because of how much he seems to care about her wellbeing.

When she walks out, John lingers a moment to slip an unmarked envelope into Michael’s hands, and when he looks up to ask about it, John is gone, and the door is closed as if he hadn’t been there at all. Inside is a check to cover the rest of her rent for the next six months, along with a note explaining this.

Of course, Michael immediately texts her after she’s safely buckled into his passenger seat, and of course, she confronts him. There is nothing about her that would indicate she’s okay with someone doing that for her, and John doesn’t expect acceptance right away, although she’ll have to get used to it sooner rather than later. He explains, casually, “It’s not because I think you can’t pay it, or that I owe you something. I want to do this for you because that money is trivial to me compared to your security and happiness.”

“Twelve thousand dollars is trivial to you?” she asks through a mix of gratefulness and sheer outrage that he would even think of spending that much money on her.

He thinks about how to answer that, whether to tell her he can make that in three hours sitting at Viggo’s bar and ensuring no one decides to kill him, and decides that he wants to be as honest as he can. Gently honest. Ease in. “Twelve thousand means something else to people with my salary. It would be like ten dollars for someone middle class.”

She blinks, then, surprisingly, laughs at him. At the raised eyebrow and the quick glance to probably check and see if she’s gone completely wacko, she reassures him of her dwindling sanity. “You paid my rent with blood money.”

He cringes, but agrees.

“I can’t John. I know you do what you do, but I can’t. I’m telling him not to cash the check.”

The willpower it takes not to stop this car, spin and drift on the icy road, park at the corner and bend her to his will either by bending her over his knee or bending her in half while he fucks the fight out of her in the cold back seat is tangent. This reminds him that she is too ethical, too moral, and that he will need to ruin both of those illusions sooner rather than later.

A second later, all his anger fades when she speaks soft and timid, manipulating him with the big-eyed pout on her pretty face without knowing she’s doing it. “Are you mad?”

“I’m irritated,” he tells her, brushing his knuckles over her cold puffy cheeks to soothe the ache of truth. “But I understand. Although don’t think that will stop me from trying to convince you otherwise.”

He grins, and she shivers under his touch, because John can be very convincing. She supposes it’s not hard for him to be, especially looking like he does, carrying himself like he does.

——————————

She is trying on her flowery dress, and it’s tighter, spilling the fat of her tits over the top and framing the soft bulge of her tummy obscenely. She turns in the mirror, smooths down and sucks in and decides she hates it far too much to let anyone see her in it let alone John—except he’s already in the doorway, leaning casually and watching her, eyes downturned.

Out of all the things she can cover, her hands instinctually wrap around her stomach to hide it, and he smiles, deciding that is where he’s going to lick and kiss and suck first.

“It’s not—“ he’s on her, pressing her against the counter and bruising her already chafed mouth, uncurling her little fists and pinning them on the counter. She moans against his teeth, pressing her hips into his thighs, and he bites her bottom lip to distract her from where his hands cup and kneed. It doesn’t work very well, not for too long, and she’s torn between sensitivity and shyness, immediately covering his hands and giggling. She buries her head into his chest, holding onto him, not protesting just yet, and he inhales her.

“Johnnnnn, that tickles.”

“Oh, poor thing,” he tuts, not stopping.

His teeth nip the spillage of her tits while he hikes her dress up around her waist, and then remembers his sweet thing wants to make love, and grins and this little morsel of heaven before him. “Take your pretty dress off and get in bed.”

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