#Sudden temperature drops ruin me

[stardustedknuckles]

So what I'm hearing is that I will be absolutely useless Wednesday with sinuses exploding.

[7s3ven]

HELL-FIRE. luke (pjo) - pt 1

PART 1 > PART 2 (in progress)

IN WHICH… Y/N doesn’t want to admit it, but perhaps she and the mischievous son of Hermes have more in common than she originally thought.

“Maybe it’s a blessing in disguise. I see my reflection in your eyes.”

Warnings : mentions of abuse

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

—

The cold water lapped at Y/N’s shoulders as she sank into the tub placed strategically in the corner of the empty cabin.

Life as a forbidden kid was hard. You had no siblings and everybody was expecting you to do grand things. A small sigh slipped past Y/N’s lips as the water heated up until it was at a temperature that almost scolded her skin. Perhaps it was because Hades, the king of the Underworld, was her father but Y/N always found herself fascinated by fire. She loved to watch the blue, orange, and yellow flames flicker in the dim darkness.

It wasn’t until her arrival at Camp Half-Blood did it all make sense. Y/N, the daughter of Hades, was able to control fire. Though, she hadn’t quite gotten the hang of it. It all came in random bursts and every time she walked along the crisp green grass, a trail of brightly lit flames slithered after her.

The Demeter kids hated her for ruining the plush red roses that took them weeks to nurture. Y/N could understand their fury and she did her best to avoid their plants now, especially because her fire favoured the taste of Demeter’s flowers.

A quiet knock on the wooden door interrupted Y/N’s peace. She slowly rose from the water, droplets running down her finger tips. She slowly dried herself with a soft cotton towel before slipping her bright orange shirt over her head. She slid on a pair of loosely fitting pants before turning the knob, harshly pulling the door open.

“Do you need something?” Y/N asked, frowning at the small kid in front of her. He trembled and took a nervous step back.

“Luke… he… he told me to give this to you.” The kid stretched out his hand, practically shaking as Y/N stared down at the dark red rose. A lousy gift in her opinion.

Luke was the son of Hermes and the head counsellor of his cabin. He was popular amongst the campers and girls constantly swooned over him. Y/N, on the other hand, had no interest in romance. It had always been that way ever since she was born.

Y/N was conceived into this cruel world with a cold and empty heart. Her mother thought of it as a personality disorder at first until she realized that it was just how Y/N was. No amount of love forced into her arms could change the deep anger boiling inside of her.

Y/N took the rose, peering at it and scowling. “You’ve done your job. Scram.” She shooed the young Hermes kid away, almost shoving him off her rickety wooden porch. She caught sight of Luke watching her through the clean window of his own cabin.

He had never shown much interest in her before until a year ago, where we witnessed her easily take down some of the best fighters in camp.

He grinned at her, a gesture that should have made her heart flutter. But it didn’t. Y/N silently stared at him, feeling the sudden heat rush to her fingers. She lit the rose alight and it didn’t take long until only a few crisp and blackened petals remained in her grasp.

She quickly dropped them, scattering the remains of the once beautiful flower everywhere. It acted as a constant reminder that no matter how hard Luke tried, she was simply immune to his charm.

It’s not like Y/N didn’t want to love, because she did. She saw the Aphrodite kids treating Valentine’s Day like it was some big festivals. And she noticed how many of the boys in the Apollo cabin always had their eyes glued to one of the Athena girls.

They looked at her like she was a pile of treasure; like a precious jewel. They stared at her with such admiration and adoration that Y/N felt a little jealous. How come she couldn’t love while others could?

It was probably because of the darkness lurking within her, feasting away at every small spark of happiness until it was gone, resting in the belly of the beast. Anger, jealousy, and hatred consumed her easily. And she was bitter because of it.

It was pitch black by the time Y/N collapsed on her soft mattress. She was clad in shorts and a black crop top to battle the humid weather during Summer. She was half asleep when a quiet tap and rattle woke her.

Y/N quietly groaned. She knew who was waiting by her window, wearing a spare camp t-shirt and dusty grey shorts that stopped above his knees. His tapping become quicker and sharper until Y/N had no choice but to fling the window open.

“What?” She hissed at Luke.

He always came at the same time every night. Twelve o’clock sharp in hopes of wooing her. Y/N wasn’t stupid, she knew he was after something else that wasn’t romance related but until she figured out what, she wasn’t comfortable being alone in his presence.

Luke simply smiled, resting his chin on the sill. “Walk with me?” He questioned, jabbing a thumb over his right shoulder.

“It’s past curfew.” Y/N sharply retorted, glowering at him. Beams of moonlight shone down on the pair, acting as if the world were a stage that needed to be lit. Y/N could clearly see Luke tilt his head to the side, gazing up at her through his lashes.

“It’ll be quick.” He was persistent as always.

“What part of not interested confuses you?” Y/N threw the covers back over her body, prepared to crash her head against her feathered pillow and let her eyes flutter shut.

"One walk and I'll stop annoying you for a week."

That made Y/N pause. She stared at Luke, narrowing her eyes. A week wasn't long but it was better than putting up with his presence constantly. "Okay." She slowly said, causing Luke to victoriously grin. He pumped his fist.

"If we get caught, you have to take the blame." Y/N warned Luke as she stepped out of her cabin, pointing sternly at him. He wrapped a lock of her H/C hair around his finger, standing too close to comfort.

"I'd take every blame for you." He whispered, playfully winking. Y/N rolled her eyes in reply.

"I'd let you rot in a ditch." She pushed him away, storming down the stairs of the small porch. He clicked his tongue, eyes glazing over her movements. He jogged to catch up with her, his hand brushing against her leg.

The slight breeze surrounded the two of them as Y/N glanced up at the shining stars, her eyes darting around to spot all the different constellations. Luke followed her gaze, arching an eyebrow.

"What are you staring at?" He asked, licking his chapped lips. Y/N's eyes darted to look at him before she rolled her eyes, not saying anything.

"Can't you take a hint to be quiet?" She muttered after a minute of painful silence.

"No, I can. It's a choice to annoy you." He slyly smiled, bumping Y/N with his hip. She scoffed, shoving her hand into his face.

The crickets chirped loudly as Y/N walked past them, Luke following close behind. The air was colder now and Y/N relished the feeling of it against her skin. She almost forgot the son of Hermes was with her before he cleared his throat.

"No fire following behind us?" He questioned. He was used to the flames that often licked at Y/N's ankles but never dared burn her.

"That would get us caught." Y/N retorted. She faltered for a second, "Me, I mean. It would get me caught."

Luke lowly chuckled. "Nah, too late, Blaze. You said us. So there is something between us. And here I thought you only saw me as an obnoxious idiot."

Y/N sharply clicked her tongue, glaring at him. "Don't call me Blaze. And yes, I do see you as one."

"What would you prefer then? Conflagration? Inferno? Oh, what about Holocaust?"

"I didn't even know you knew those words." Y/N uttered, blankly staring at Luke. But Blaze was surely better than being called Holocaust.

"Blaze it is." Luke slung an arm around Y/N's shoulder, carefully testing the waters. The smell of burning flesh wafted through the air and Y/N quickly shrugged Luke's arm off, panicking slightly.

"Don't touch me." She said. It was supposed to be a harsh command but it came out as more of a desperate warning. Y/N's eyes darted to Luke's burnt skin. She scowled, at both his persistence to hold her and her inability to control her angry flames. It's not like she was actively trying to hurt people. It just... happened.

"I think it's time for you to leave." She said, her voice nothing more than a whisper. "Get your arm checked."

"It's late, no Apollo kid will be awake." His sizzling flesh didn't phase him in the slightest. He had dealt with worse, far worse. Like Clarisse's spear. "Besides, I like walking with you."

"At least soak your arm in water. It'll bring down the stinging sensation as well as protect it from risk of infection." Y/N was hesitant to even get near Luke, afraid of what her ability might do lest she lost control. But Luke was fearless. He'd grip her wrist a million times, even if it meant getting burnt, just to feel her skin against his.

He was like Icarus, unrelenting in his pursuit for greatness. He adored Y/N like Icarus loved the sun; too fast and too close. In a way, Y/N was death reincarnated. Pupils so big that it was unsettling, a glare so intense it could swallow you up, and a dark grace that followed her every move. Icarus died with broken wings but a fulfilled soul, just as Luke would if it meant he could hold Y/N.

Y/N led Luke towards a small pond and dipped her hand into the cool water. It started bubbling and Y/N instantly recoiled. Luke watched her, curious.

"Why do you do that?" He asked, gaining Y/N's wavering attention.

"Do what?" She muttered, furrowing her brows in confusion. Luke lightly chuckled, staring down at the rippling water.

"The fire thing. And heating up water. Why?"

Y/N shrugged. "It's not like I do it on purpose. It's random. Heating up water is easy enough but the flames are weird. I've tried spotting a pattern but I just can't see it." Y/N held up a finger, heat rushing to the tip. A flame flickered but it wasn't like her usual orange or blue ones. It was pink.

A light pink hue reflected off Luke's face as he peered at the fire, his eyes darting to follow its wild movements. He slowly dipped his charred arm into the water, grinning at Y/N who found slight amusement in playing with the pink flame.

"You ever think your flames follow your emotions?" He piped up, tilting his head to the side.

"Excuse me?"

"Your emotions. Maybe they control your fire." He shrugged, "Your flames are usually orange but when you get angry, which happens a lot, they turn blue. And the pink... I don't know. Love?"

Y/N sneered. "Love? Who would I be in love with?" It was a ridiculous suggestion. Stupid, even. Love didn't exist in Y/N L/N's world. Luke raised his brows, silently gesturing to himself. "I'd rather kiss a dragon."

Luke reached out to touch the flame and Y/N pulled away in a panic. "Don't!" She exclaimed, but Luke's hand was already waving through the fire. It didn't hurt in the slightest and Luke smiled. Y/N's whole hand exploded into pink-toned flames and she jumped, waving her hand around until the fire went out.

"Blaze... Do your emotions... scare you?" Luke asked. Y/N lightly scoffed, glaring at Luke as she always did. A flicker of blue glazed over her E/C eyes and then it was replaced with orange which quickly shifted into pink. And it finally returned to blue before disappearing as quickly as it came.

"Your eyes... they, uh..." Luke didn't know how to describe it. "Do they... somewhat flame up a lot?"

"Ignore that." She grumbled, shielding her face from Luke's hawk-like gaze.

"You intrigue me. Why do you act so bitter all the time, Y/N?" Luke questioned, clearing his throat. She paused, lightly biting down on her bottom lip. He didn't have room to judge because despite carrying around a kind and caring facade, Luke was just as mean as her underneath it all. Y/N just... didn't bother to hide it while Luke turned his head every time his eyes darkened or his lips curled into a disgusted sneer.

"I don't have a reason. Do you ever think that maybe I'm not acting and that I was born this way? Because I'm pretty sure I was."

"There's a reason for everything."

"Okay, you want to know why?!" Y/N exclaimed, fed up with all his questions and teasing. Luke calmly gestured her to continue.

"I hate them. I hate the deities above who call themselves our godly parents. They are just as fucked up as us, if not more. I mean, what were they thinking? Fucked up people give birth to fucked up kids. They underestimate us and abandon us and still think that we'll worship the ground they walk on. If I'm being honest, I don't think they love us. My father... Hades... he had an opportunity to save me from the abuse my mother was inflicting on me."

Luke's facial expression softened. His eyes locked with Y/N's angry ones and for a split second, he saw himself in her. A demigod desperate to prove themselves to their parent only to be disappointed.

"And you know what was worse? I saw him. I met him. He came to our house one day and I didn't know it was him in that moment but after I got here, it all made sense. The man who randomly showed up on the doorstep all those years ago and acted like he knew everything about me... was my father. The same man who dumped me in the horrible care of my mother. Hades, the supposedly only God who loved his half-blood child, actually abandoned her when he had the choice to take her with him."

"I get what you mean." Luke muttered, shifting closer to her. She didn't stop him. "I feel abandoned too. My dad, he did something similar. I agree with you when you say that the gods don't love us... because I don't think they do either. We're just... their pawns. You see this scar?"

Luke's finger trailed over the scar that adorned the side of his face. "My father... he gave me a quest that Hercules had already completed. I didn't want to do something someone else had already done but I thought, how hard could it be? And I failed it... I failed the quest. And some stupid dragon scratched me and gave me this scar."

"I don't get why they think we're expendable." Y/N's hands clenched into fists and she clicked her tongue. She turned to Luke, flinching at how close he was all of a sudden.

It all happened too quickly. One second Y/N's lips accidently brushed against Luke's and the next the whole field around the pond burst into a flood of pink flames. Y/N and Luke stood in front of Chiron, hands clasped behind them. Luke stared at the ground in shame while Y/N wasn't scared to look Chiron in the eye.

"You not only snuck out past curfew, which is breaking rules, but Miss Y/N, you also burned a fellow camper and set flames to the grass."

"Chiron, sneaking out past curfew was my idea." Luke, as promised, took responsibility for his actions. "And she can't control her fire and I provoked her so I deserved it anyway." Luke shrugged.

"That still doesn't excuse your behavior. I expect you to clean all the sword before the Ares kids mess them all up again."

Y/N scoffed under her breath. "This is all your fault. I can't believe I snuck out with you of all people." Y/N poked his shoulder and a small pink flame danced across his shirt before dissolving into thin air.

"Pink means love." Luke teased.

"I will burn you again." Y/N threatened, stomping on his foot.

"Hey, you wouldn't burn your ranting partner so soon, would you?" He grinned.

Y/N didn't want to admit it but she did share a lot of similarities with Luke. From their hatred for the gods to the feeling of being abandoned. "Talking with you wasn't entirely terrible." She muttered, rolling her eyes.

"Thanks, Blaze." He gently grasped her hand, pressing a chaste kiss to her knuckle. Y/N jumped and everything went up in flames again. Literally. "Y/N... Y/N, you're on fire. You are on fire!" But it didn't hurt. The flames wrapped around her like a comforting blanket as Luke stared at her in both awe and confusion. "It's kinda cool actually. It looks like you're glowing." Luke chuckled while she glared at him, wildly trying to pat the pink fire out.

"Come on, just admit you like me, Blaze. Even just a little bit. You find me pretty, don't you?"

"I do not!" Y/N exclaimed, the flames growing stronger. Luke teasingly raised his brows, staring at her with a knowing smirk. She scoffed, spinning around.

"See ya later, Blaze!" Luke called out as she stormed away. She turned around, deeply scowling at him.

"Shut up!" She shouted, a glowing trail of fire following after her and burning its way through the grass. Campers squealed at the sight, jumping out of the way.

Luke chuckled to himself, watching when Y/N sneered at a young Apollo boy. "She's so cute." He muttered to himself, shaking his head in amusement.

From the window, Chiron sighed at the familiar sight of Y/N's fire. "She's getting stronger." He said, frowning.

"So? At least her pink flames are harmless, unlike her blue ones. And don't get me started on that huge blowup she had last year. I didn't even know black flames existed until she blew up! More like exploded!" Mr D scoffed, shivering at the memory of Y/N's black flames. It was like a massive bomb went off.

Chiron was silent for a moment until he looked at Mr D. "She likes Luke." He quickly said.

Mr D instantly sat up, slamming his hand against the table in front of him. "Oh, yeah, definitely! I started shipping those two ever since they started bickering. Catch up, Chiron!"

TAG LIST : @lostinhisworld @julielightwood @outerbanks-stuff @jennapancake @csifandom @evrybodydies1 @kkrenae @s0ulsniper @annispamz @justanotherkpopstanlol @soraya-09 @simpforeveyone @papichulo120627 @corpsebridenightamare @lilacspider @prettylilsimp @urmomsbananabread @ur-lacol-dsylexic @hottiewifeyyyy @kamiliora @be-bap @finnickodaddy @th0tblckgrl @shoyofroyoyoyo @uniquely-her @imafrkinsimp @syraxesrevenge @ahh-chickens @dracoslovergirl @midnightstar-90 @8812-342 @liv1104 @krkiiz @arialikestea @ch16rles @lizziesliz @maryclx01 @lukecastellandefender @yuminako @coryoskywalker @julielightwood @crybabysbakery @jsbaby @liviessun @p3pperm1nttea @angie-esc @purplerose291 @prettylilsimp @10ava01 @froggiesstalks @happy-jj @czennieszn @gisellesprettylies @loveyava @csifandom @luvvfromme @mashiromochi @kamiliora @yorksyree @mqg125 @jamesmackreideswife

[shockercoco]

I Told You So

Timothee Chalamet x reader

Warnings - none, fluff

Word count - 703

a/n -  request: Timothee gets sick halfway through a vacation and worries he’s ruined it but Y/N assures him he didn’t. (They are on vacation so Timothee can take a break from working so much) - it's kind of short, but I hope you enjoy :)

Timothee had been sick for a couple days leading up to the day the two of you were supposed to leave for vacation. You had told him several times that you were fine with canceling the trip or postponing it for a later time when he felt better, but each time he would brush you off and tell you that he was fine.

After all, there were only a handful of times throughout the year where he wasn’t busy filming or attending press events. When he did have time off, he used it to make up for all the lost time between the two of you.

“It’s just a small cold,” Timothee had told you the night before the trip.

His head felt heavy and cloudy, his nose was clogged so he couldn't smell, and his body ached. Overall, he felt like shit, but he didn’t want to let that stop you guys. He knew you had been looking forward to this vacation for months, and he didn’t want you having to take care of him during his time off.

“Babe, just a couple days ago you were telling me how terrible you felt, and now all of a sudden you feel better?” you countered. “ You’re sick, Timothee, just admit it.”

Somehow, he hadn’t gotten you sick, despite being around you practically every minute of the day. Your back was to him as you continued to clean the kitchen. You could hear his feet moving against the tile floor, coming closer to you, but you kept your back facing him. He took the cloth you were using to clean the counters out of your hand, trying to get your attention. You let out a sigh as you lean against the counter and let your eyes meet his. 

“I promise you, I’m good to go on this trip,” he insists as he gives you a reassuring smile, hoping you would just drop it.

Which you do. Against your better judgement, you let Timothee convince you. Throughout the plane ride, you kept looking over at him to make sure he was okay – he had noticed this out of the corner of his eye, but he chose to ignore it.

When the two of you had arrived at your rented villa on the beach, It was Timothee’s idea to not rest and to explore the area. The two of you had even gone for a swim in the ocean later that night.

On the second day of your vacation is when Timothee took a turn for the worse. When he woke up that morning, he felt like had gotten hit by a truck, he had no energy to move. He knew he couldn’t lie to you anymore.

“I’m sorry,” he told you as you gave him some medicine that you had stuffed in your luggage just in case he needed it. And boy did he need it.

“It’s okay, really,” you say as you sit on the bed next to him. You place the back of your hand on his forehead to check his temperature.

“No, it’s not okay. I didn’t want you to have to take care of me on your vacation. I ruined it for you,” he sighs as he looks at you. He felt awful, and it wasn’t from the pounding headache he had.

“You didn’t ruin it, Timothee,” you reassure him.

“But we can’t do any of the things you wanted to do,” he says.

“We’ll be here for another week, I’m sure you’ll feel better in a couple of days. The most important part is that I get to spend time with you,” you say as you run a hand through his curls. 

“Yeah, spend time with your sick boyfriend,” he mumbles.

You playfully roll your eyes. “How about you stop complaining and let someone take care of you for once. It’s about time I pay you back for all the times you took care of me.”

Timothee thinks for a moment before saying, “You know what, you’re right. This is overdue. Remember that time when you had food poisoning and you threw up on- "

“Don’t say another word,” you cut him off. He just gives you a smirk in return.

Like what you see? check out my masterlist :)

[n3ptoonz]

Love your work babe!

Figured I send some ideas over!

Asking johnny to fuck you from behind for the first time, like being nervous and asking him to bend you over and take you how he wants!

puts on sunglasses and flashes smile thank you, thank you very much

'Suga Baby'

Pairing: SugarDaddy!Johnny Cage/F!Reader

Fandom: Mortal Kombat 1 (2023)

Warnings/tags: Smut; Explicit, mirror sex, creampie/breeding kink, use of "princess" "baby girl" "good girl" "doll" and "baby", scent kink if you squint, prob my first time ever using the word 'pussy' in a fic, reader a lil shy, COCKY JOHNNY CAGE, doggy style/backshots, the only "she" used here is in reference to reader's vag LMAOO, dirty talk, sorry for any typos or unedited indicators

shoutout @igotcaged for the sugar daddy idea 😝 thought i'd double it 😼

Word count: 1.4k

what i was envisioning while writing 🫦:

Finally, some down time with your favorite man ever: Johnny Cage. AKA your sugar daddy of 7 months now. Who would've thought your days as a waitress would be cut so short when one of your favorite actors dropped in after winning a few big awards? He did. It had been his mission ever since his divorce to make the hottest woman he could find his sugar baby. He fucking loved spoiling people, so why not include you?

Truth be told it was no bother that he would do what he wants for however long since you would still get a weekly allowance. Though...you did want to celebrate his latest self-directed film "Mortal Kombat", which by the way, smash hit, winning Movie of the Year with him. In the 7 months of living with him in his mansion, you two only ever got to be intimate like twice. He was always busy with production, meet and greets, script writing, and protecting Earthrealm. He barely had time to wink at himself and pose in the mirror!

So tonight he comes home, a little tipsy he'll admit, but aware enough since he's not drunk. He was about to start rambling about a myriad of things when he was stopped in his tracks by the beautiful sight of you leaning against the back of the couch in his Versace robe and the lingerie he bought you for your birthday--how convenient that it matched what he was wearing tonight at the awards. He could smell a bit of the perfume you liked to wear lingering around the living room mixing with the faint smell of his favorite cologne on the robe too.

It was...intoxicating.

"Somebody was eager for me to come home..." he teased, slowly walking up to you and wrapping his arms around you. "You never told me there was another after party."

You smiled and wrapped your arms around his neck. Bringing up one of your hands you pulled his face closer so you could look him in the eyes. "Well, that would've ruined the surprise now wouldn't it?" you replied. Next thing you know you could feel him pick you up and throw you over his shoulder, palm over your ass and all. His sudden determination had you giggling and smiling.

He moved with vigor and intent to his massive bedroom in hopes you also were just as eager to fuck him like he was with you. The way your breasts sat to the way your thighs made the fabric of the garters stretch just a tad brought all together with that perfume...you'd think he was a starving lion released from its cage (no pun intended).

Your back gently hit the cool satin linens of his king sized bed. The mixing temperatures of that with his hot kisses all over your jaw already had your vision fuzzy. You gasped and bit your lip so you wouldn't be so loud as he just got started, but him realizing that only gassed him up more.

"Johnny..." you softly whined in his ear. Your nails were subconsciously dragging against his prized biceps as the thought had crept into your head. You wanted back shots. Though the nervousness started to appear since again, you've only gotten intimate twice, and both times were nearly rushed in a semi public setting for the fun of risk--and one of those times was you giving him some bomb ass head.

This time you needed him to bend you over and do with you what he wanted to. Especially now that you two have all the time in the world.

Johnny lifted his head to see the slight plea in your eyes, wondering what's going on behind those eyes. He grabbed your waist and pulled you into his lap. "Don't be shy, princess, tell me what's on your mind." he said, dragging his surprisingly soft fingers gently up and down your torso and eventually gripping your ass--he's obsessed with how the fabric feels, especially with you wearing it.

His gaze from under you was making you even more nervous. You really didn't expect to be so close with him, let alone be sitting in his lap and telling him what you want. Besides money, of course.

"Do you think you could...fuck me from behind this time?" you said. You tried to mask most of your nerves by leaning down towards him, the bra part of your lingerie nearly giving out over his face, and grinding your hips down onto his growing if not full erection. "And no, the quickie at that party two weeks ago doesn't count. I want you to-"

--

"-'fuck you like I own you', was it? To bend you over in front of this mirror and watch your eyes roll back from how fuckin' hot you look taking all of me? Aw, you're so good for me, doll."

Johnny was no poser. For the most part, what you see is what you get. In this context, he has every right to channel this side of him. There you were on your hands and knees on the bed, barely being able to focus on how either of you look as he shamelessly watched your back arch so he could keep hitting that same angle that made you see stars.

You loudly moaned and bit your lip again. It was drawn out and matched his pace with every thrust that connected. He fell in love with the growing sound of your pussy getting louder with every pump. Your slick was running down your thighs the wetter you got and Johnny was just silently thanking the elder gods above only he got to see such a view. He was just getting turned on more by the second since he could also get a look at himself and you in the mirror.

"Shit, have I kept you waiting too long? I'm sorry, baby girl. I wish you would've told me she was begging for me." he said. The "she" in question being exactly what you thought it was. "Look at that...she was made for me." he continued. He gestured to the feeling of you clenching around him in response to his dirty talk. It really has felt like it's been too long, but he was surely making up for it.

"Harder...slower...please..." you groaned out. You so badly wanted to get the most out of this as much as you could. He let go of your hair and placed his hands on your hips, stilling his movements without pulling out. He leaned down next to your ear and said,

"Whatever you want, baby."

And from there, you could feel him in your stomach. He made sure to keep pulling back and pushing forward hit that spot he knew could get you to be more vocal. So far you were mostly just whines and soft moans of approval, but damn it he fucking loved how you sounded when you weren't able to contain yourself.

"I know, babe, I know it's big." he muttered, but loud enough for you to be able to make out his words. "But I know you can take it. Be a good- agh" he inhaled sharply in between sentences.  "-girl for me- ...yeah? Fuck..."

He silently cursed to himself as he could feel himself about to cum. You had such an effect on him already, but the tears and sweat making you shine had him ready to be a damn father. And honestly in this moment in time, he wouldn't even mind.

You buried your face into the mattress the closer you got to cumming. He could overhear you say you were about to even if your words were slurred and muffled. His grip around your hips got tighter as he picked up the pace again, begging you to let him cum inside. All you could get out was a loud muffled array of whines in agreement. You both needed this carnally, and he was in no opposition to it.

As he shot his thick warm seed against your walls, it didn't take long for it to start spilling out onto the back of your thighs. You came right after him and loudly moaned to your heart's content. Hands gripping the sheets and tears rolling freely down your face. It took him a bit before he stilled his moments because he couldn't stop getting turned on. Your muffled screams of pleasure were music to his ears.

He pulled out and watched it drip out of you and let me tell you, nobody has ever seen him grin wider in his life. You sat up as you tried to calmed down, watching yourself pant and tiredly smile in the mirror. He leaned down and kissed your neck a few times while wrapping his arms around your waist before muttering with a smirk,

"I hope it's a girl."

[lisenberry]

Haven't done a Feral Friday in a while, and I'm a bit stumped on the current chapter of BDSM Price.

So, let's skip ahead to a bit I was able to write that comes further along in the outline. Just a tease at where we're going.

MDNI/18+/NSFW

CW: Dom!Ghost, nonparticipating Dom!Price, bondage/rope play, temperature play/wax, spanking/pain play, angst, sub drop.

Was this his way of apologizing?  Or was he trying to put you back in your place?

“Don’t look at him.  Look at me,” Ghost demanded, bringing you back to your center.

And John didn’t look at you, not when Ghost tied you up and hung you from the hook in the door frame, or when you sucked his cock hands-free while he lazily dripped paraffin wax between your shoulder blades. 

“Bloody hell, Cap.  Is she always like this?  This is what I’ve been missing?  Taught her to give a good head, did ya?”

No, John didn’t look up once when his friend took turns warming your ass and pussy with a crop, as strings of drool and slick soaked the floor from both ends of you.  There was no vibrator this time.  John never used one, didn’t have one in his box of tricks, so Ghost sloppily worked you over with his fingers and his tongue before slipping himself inside.

You were used to the stretch of John, but it was something new and different from Simon.  Far from the cold and sanitized nature of your previous encounters at Life Connect 141.  He barked out oaths and moaned praises like he’d been given a gift so exquisite, he would hide it under his pillow.  Carry it with him everywhere.  Wear it into the ground.

“I knew you’d be a gem, dove.  Such a sweet little toy,” he muttered, as he pulled harder on the rope that held your hair, arching your back even further.

His enthusiasm was so contagious that you came just like that, on his cock before he pulled out and painted your blistering ass with his spend.  You could tell the skin was split in places by the way the salt in his seed stung and burned as he spread it around like a salve.

If he touched your clit again, you wondered if you could come a second time at the fresh sensation of it.  But you were too tired to ask.  Too drained to speak.  Wrung out and soiled like a mop that had scrubbed the floor.

It was everything you’d wanted...once. 

And yet, it was John who reached out to hold you up, while Ghost carefully untied you.  Finally showing some notice, some attention.  Too late, you thought.  Once freed, you turned into Ghost instead, on wobbling ankles and numb knees.

“I’ve got you, dove.” 

He carried you to the sofa, wrapped you in your robe, and traced circles on the back of your head as you slowly came down.  You laughed into his shoulder as he joked about being ruined for the 141 for good after that and lit a cigarette.

But before long, he looked at his watch and kissed the top of your head. 

“That’s my time, hon,” he mumbled, lifting you up gently and helping you sit on your own.  The ache along your backside was not nearly as strong as the one in your heart.  It never was. 

“It was good to see you again, Simon.”  You smiled and squeezed his hand once before letting him go.  For good.

You sat there, awkwardly, in the living room you’d come to know so well while John followed him out to the hallway.  Their voices were too low to hear what they were exchanging.  A sudden, frigid dread crept along the back of your neck, despite the coziness of your thick robe. 

The chill turned to a quaking, as your teeth chattered, and you fought to still your hands.  An adrenaline crash, you recognized.  A sub drop.  You’d heard about them, but never had one.  Not with Ghost before, and never with John.

And now you were alone, with tears streaming down your face, and uncontrolled panic in your chest.

Before John could come back and see your sorry state, if he even came back at all, you fled to the shower and turned on the stream.  Willed it to heat up faster while you tested it with trembling hands. 

“You need any help in there, sweetheart?”  His voice was too soft, too concerned.  You couldn’t take it.  Not from him.  Not like this.

You didn’t want to think about what had just happened.  The consequences.  Why he’d done it.  Why you’d agreed to it.  You just wanted to go home. 

How’d things get so wrong?

It was you, you realized.  It had always been you. 

[ouiouimochi]

hi I noticed that u were pipino hehe... since it's her months already, can I req how the characters react to f!reader basically celebrating Christmas literally MONTHS early

thankyou for requesting anon! I'm guessing you meant ber months? funny thing is I've gotten started on writing something for that prompt already but you requesting it also urged me to finish lmao… it's kind of rushed? but I do hope you enjoy it!

Never too early to celebrate the holidays!

context: so here in the Philippines, we actually start preparing for Christmas(heck even celebrating it) in September or the start of the ber months. now imagine how the defense force reacts to you practicing this

pairing/s: various kn8 x reader

genre/s: scenario type, slice of life, romance if you squint well, comedy, crack

wc: 2k

warnings: some characters may be ooc, not exactly canon compliant, grammatical errors, no beta we die like cattle, character studies just went out the window in this crackfic, careful for whiplash sweeties! huge mood changes

⁠༚˳•⁠⁠°. ☆ﾟ⁠˖⁠*⁠･⁠｡⁠ᴥ⁠༚˳•⁠⁠°. ☆ﾟ⁠˖⁠*⁠･⁠｡⁠ᴥ⁠༚˳•⁠⁠°. ☆ﾟ⁠˖⁠*⁠･⁠｡⁠ᴥ⁠༚˳•⁠⁠°. ☆ﾟ⁠˖⁠*

It was an unusually relaxed day in the Defense Force, free from the hectic stress of kaiju threats and the like. The day was spent training as usual, but everyone can tell that the atmosphere wasn't heavy with the burden of protecting Japan. They just knew, despite their doubts, that it wasn't the calm before a storm— the worry that their respite would soon be ruined by the stupid beasts that had been haunting them since time immemorial.

There was a distinct chill in the air, signaling the start of the crisp season of autumn. The officers of the Defense Force were already used to the drop in temperature, however some were not completely immune.

You were currently surrounded by your fellow recruits, talking about the sudden cold.

“It feels quite colder than last year,” Kikoru mentions, a small shiver running down her body. She rubs her hands together to gain warmth.

“Yeah, it wasn't this bad then.” Haruichi agreed while burying his hands deep into his parka jacket.

The group continued walking through the streets of the city, their batch having been approved for a day off after training.

“Reno, how in the damned hell are you unaffected?” reno my ice ice baby girl- Iharu hounded the mint haired male as he picked at the other male’s choice of outdoor clothes, the latter responding with a raise of an eyebrow and a shrug.

“We should get warm drinks,” you piped up as everyone expressed their agreement at your suggestion.

“I know just the place.” Haruichi pulled out his phone to show the group a cafe located not too far away. Before long, everyone arrived at the establishment with the ring of the bell above the door.

“Hot chocolate would be perfect,” Kafka sighed out, everyone else thinking of what warm drink to get as their eyes scoured through the menu.

“I'll probably have my usual coffee.”

“Maybe matcha tea?”

“Hot milk tea for me.”

“Macchiato.”

“There's no eggnog?” imsosorryidkwhatchristmasdrinktoputlmao a hum followed as the whole group stared at you with varying emotions.

You had a finger to your lip in thought while scanning the menu. You had your eyebrows slightly scrunched in concentration, debating what to get. A few gazes lingered on your face for a bit too long.

Noticing the silence, you looked at your friends and tilted your head. Realization creeps on your face and you cover your mouth with one palm, bowing apologetically.

“My bad, I didn't mean for everyone to wait for my order… I'll get the same as Reno then,” you sheepishly said.

⁠༚˳•⁠⁠°. ☆ﾟ⁠˖⁠*⁠･⁠｡⁠ᴥ

“Hold on, I think I have to go get my package.”

“Again? That's like the 6th one this month, (Y/n).” Kikoru stopped walking before turning to you to raise an eyebrow while resting her hands on her waist.

You shrugged your shoulders, seeing no problem in buying stuff with your own money coughcoughnarumicanneverjkcough.

“What's wrong with it? It's not like I'm broke from buying stuff from Yamazon, no? Unlike…” you trailed off, letting your blonde friend finish for you.

She sighs in response, dropping her arms to her sides as you two resume walking.

“As much as I want to say a comeback, you're right about my moronic teacher… I swear, he always asks me for money.”

“Oh, Kikoru…” you pat her back, laughing lightheartedly, “but I do gotta wonder how he does that when his paycheck is more loaded than mine…”

Your younger friend shook her head, already done with the conversation. She waved you goodbye when you two had to separate ways.

You hummed on your way to the office where one receives any delivered goods from outside the base. You waved and smiled at the nice lady at the desk you managed to get acquainted with from your recent visits.

She pulled up a few boxes from under her desk, creating quite the stack. The lady sweat dropped when her eyes trailed from the piled parcels to you— realizing that it'd be quite troublesome for you to carry alone.

Meeting her gaze and knowing what she was thinking, you shook your head and pulled a thumbs up.

“Don't worry, I can handle this. I just have to sign here as usual right?”

She only nodded, still a little worried as you started stacking each box carefully in your arms. Her concern only raised when your head was barely peeking out from the topmost package.

“Thank you again!” and you somehow safely maneuvered yourself out the doorway without hitting anything.

You were doing pretty well despite having most of your eyesight blocked, having to rely on your other senses. You gotta be thankful that all that training paid off, but perhaps you may have overestimated your capabilities.

Although, you could've sworn nobody was in the vicinity as you felt no other presence— heard no other footsteps, rustling of clothes, or even breathing—, you still failed to react fast enough when you collided with someone at the next turn.

Your eyes widened in surprise while some of your packages flew upwards. Everything was in slow motion but you felt a faint warmth wrap around your back and waist to catch you from falling.

You focused more on the packages that were about to fall— afraid that some of the items would break— and caught them… except for one that soared a bit too far from your reach.

Thankfully, the person who you collided with managed to grab ahold of the last box. You closed your eyes and sighed in relief.

A deep playful chuckle reverberated in the air. Your eyes opened to be met with the cheeky grin of Vice Captain Hoshina. implayingfavoritesperhaps

You blinked at him before standing up straight and off his arm.

“Vice Captain Hoshina, sir! I apologize for the disrespect, but I am unable to currently salute you, sir…”

The man only laughs and waves it off with a friendly smile, a hint of one of his canines poking out.

“At ease,” he scanned you from head to toe, “quite a hazard to walk around with ‘ya vision blocked, no?” still in his hand was the package he caught for you.

“I was holding up quite well due to your training…” you stared up at him before narrowing your eyes jokingly, “But your movements had no sound at all, not even a rustle of your clothes.”

He hummed before taking half the pile of boxes in your arms.

“Where to?”

You tilted your head curiously at his gesture. Alhough it was not unusual for the vice captain to be kind, he usually didn’t show it in such a straightforward way. Nonetheless, you appreciated how he still left some for you to carry on your own.

You smiled and answered him, both of you falling in step towards your destination.

“So what're these for? Noticed you've had deliveries the past month as well.” The purple haired man queried.

You had a slight skip in your step, quite excited to open up the packages that you received. In response to his inquiry, you smiled up at him with a glint in your eyes, “Just some early gift buying for the holidays, sir.” before turning your head away to hum a tune in your head.

‘Christmas shopping in September?’

Hoshina’s eyes remain trained on your form, processing what you just said, before he shook his head and just let you be. Everyone else had learned to not to question you much no matter how… eccentric you were at times. Your eccentricity was one of your charms anyways.

“Careful with what you buy, don't want ‘ya ending up like a certain captain of the First Division…” He advised, finding the opportunity to poke fun at said person despite their current absence.

You rolled your eyes, finding it funny that this is the nth time today Captain Narumi was slandered. “I'm more responsible with my money than you all think, sir.”

Far away in the Ariake Maritime Base of the JAKDF, a certain two-toned haired male let out a sneeze while he was busy playing on his gaming console.

Hasegawa shook his head, “that's what gaming all night gets you,” the older man chided his captain as the said person only covered his ears, unwilling to listen to another lecture.

⁠༚˳•⁠⁠°. ☆ﾟ⁠˖⁠*⁠･⁠｡⁠ᴥ

Another yoju drops dead on the concrete ground, everyone’s comms crackling to life.

“Immeasurable amount of yoju bounding to Zone Beta, honju’s whereabouts are unknown,” the familiar voice of Operations Manager Okonogi made itself through the earpiece.

“There's just no end to this!” an officer grumbled as everyone else started bounding to the designated zone.

“Kaiju horde spotted, permission to engage?” You announced into your device while readying your gun, being the first in position. The horde had an average of only 3.6 fortitude level— however, their numbers were what made them problematic. The operations room gave you the signal, indicating that it was something you could handle with your capabilities despite only being a recruit.

You wasted not another moment, immediately pulling the trigger of your pre-aimed gun. A yoju drops as its fellow species trampled over its fallen corpse.

The ground was rumbling with the beasts’ stampede through the open road. Yet again, another shot, another corpse. They were still far from your position, so you continued to efficiently gun down kaiju after kaiju.

You get into a steady beat, unconsciously following a certain rhythm from the back of your mind. You remain locked in, completely washing out most of your surroundings— well of course you are still aware of what's going on around you, just more hyperaware than ever.

“First Division backup has arrived at Zone Beta”

You continued firing away, by now the horde was noticeably dwindling away already. A pair of red glaring lenses watched on, having the pleasure of watching your work first hand as the owner was fastest to arrive.

Captain Narumi only wanted to quickly clear the largest wave of kaiju emergence of the year by far— cursing already how his division had to do a joint operation with the Third. Color him impressed as he just observed how you could clear the horde pretty much on your own. He was mesmerized by the timing and pattern of which you fired your gun—

He narrows his eyes when he realizes something, noticing that it was like you were casually playing a rhythm game with the monsters. Well, that wasn't exactly what made him pause…

‘She isn't shooting them down in the beat of a Christmas song, is she?'

⁠༚˳•⁠⁠°. ☆ﾟ⁠˖⁠*⁠･⁠｡⁠ᴥ

“Do any of you think that maybe—just maybee—(Y/n) is actually insane?” Iharu randomly blurted out as the usual group of recruits gathered around. You weren't present at the moment since you were called to the captain's office for something.

“You’re the madman here for being brave enough to even question it.” Kikoru stated matter-of-factly.

“We're literally surrounded by unique people, why are you only pointing fingers at her?” Reno raised an eyebrow, ready to defend you anytime.

“I mean… it's only September… and she's already making holiday preparations!” The pink-haired male tried to explain.

“...He does make quite the point.” Kafka nodded along.

“Eh, how are you all sure she's been doing so?” Reno challenged.

The eldest of the group mentioned what he noticed, “Hasn’t (Y/n) been craving and looking for Christmas season food—”

“You've no right to judge a woman's sudden urge to eat something.” Hakua interjected, the tall female always so passionate when it comes to cuisine.

“Come to think of it… Her part of the room’s been unusually cramped with some packages...” Akari’s mellow voice echoed out.

“It's not really our business to pry into how she uses her paychecks though…”

and so the group bickered back and forth— one half providing ‘evidence’ of your weird behavior, the second half making up possible reasons behind them.

“She’s been humming ‘All I want for Christmas is You‘ by Mariah Carey the past 2 weeks for fuck's sake!”

⁠༚˳•⁠⁠°. ☆ﾟ⁠˖⁠*⁠･⁠｡⁠ᴥ⁠༚˳•⁠⁠°. ☆ﾟ⁠˖⁠*⁠･⁠｡⁠ᴥ⁠༚˳•⁠⁠°. ☆ﾟ⁠˖⁠*⁠･⁠｡⁠ᴥ⁠༚˳•⁠⁠°. ☆ﾟ⁠˖⁠*

notes: CRYING SCREAMING HOW DO I WRITE HOSHINA TALKING I FORGOT HOW TO WRITE HIM HHHHHHH (too lazy to edit his parts, this has been in the drafts since the start of september… kinda wanna get it over and done with-)

this was hella rushed, isn't it obvious I made different parts at different days? its a mess just like me :P

[lokis-army-77]

Pretty Girl and her Hoodie Guy

Modern!Eddie Munson x fem reader

Word Count: 2.4k

It was supposed to be a sunny day until it wasn't, but that's okay because maybe love is right around the corner... or the bus stop.

Warning: E for everyone!! This is just really cute and if you don't read it I'll be very mad at yall >:(.

The first part of this is based on some pictures I saw on tiktok but I totally forgot to save it so I could give credit for the idea that it gave me.

Masterlist

It has rained almost every day in Chicago for nearly a week. So, the one day the weather forecast called for bright sunny skies and nearly eighty-degree weather, you decided to leave your umbrella in your apartment along with your umbrella. 

The bus ride to campus was dry as could be, the weather was perfect and the slight breeze tickled as it made your skirt flutter around your thighs. The walk to class after getting off the bus was also crystal clear, not a single cloud in sight and the sun beat down brightly, you were thankful for the shade of the trees. 

Three hours later, as you exit the English building, you notice it has gotten darker, clouds have begun to roll in. You sigh as you begin walking to the bus stop, hopeful that the weatherman was still correct about having no rain. 

You and the meteorologist were both proven wrong when, halfway to the bus, the bottom fell out. Big, heavy droplets of rain started pouring down out of nowhere, almost instantly soaking you to the bone. 

You begin to run as fast as your bag full of books and laptop will allow. You can only pray that the rain hasn't seeped through your backpack and ruined your things. 

The bus stop is only a couple more feet away and when you make it under the awning you have a breath and set your backpack down on the bench. Today was such a bad day to wear a white shirt. The water had made it nearly see-through. Your white bra practically shining through the thin cotton fabric like a spotlight was on it. 

As you try to squeeze the water out of your clothes you hear a deep cough, like someone clearing their throat. You look up. To your left is a guy, he's tall with shaggy hair and bangs almost covering his eyes. He's wearing a black hoodie and black jeans even though it had been almost eighty-three degrees mere hours ago. Your eyes catch on the glint of piercings in his ears before they wander to the peak of a tattoo showing just above the collar of his hoodie. 

He looks at you with impossibly big, brown eyes, something you'd imagine only a puppy or a newborn baby to have. 

"Here." He says before tugging the hoodie off. The way he reaches up and grabs the back of the garment to take it off has the shirt under it riding up. You can see an expanse of ivory skin covered in charcoal-black lines, tattoos. They cover almost every inch of skin and you suspect they go farther down, past the waistband of his jeans. 

He shakes the hoodie out in front of you and you hesitate to grab it so he forces it into your shivering hands. The rain and the sudden drop in temperature are making you freeze. 

"Put that on. It'll keep you warm and away from prying eyes." His smile is big and bright as he watches you put his clothes on. 

It's big on you, more than big, enormous. What was a perfect fit on him, swallowed you whole. The hem came down almost to the back of your knees and the sleeves might as well have been a mile long. 

"Thank you," you say softly with an even softer smile back at him. 

"No worries." He then points at your hand and motions for you to reach it out to him. So, you do, without hesitation. 

He grasps your hand in his and with the other, rolls up the sleeve. He then produces a pen from seemingly thin air and scribbles something down. 

When he lets go of your arm, you hold it up. 10 scratchy numbers are etched over your forearm as well as a name. Eddie. 

You go to ask him why he's given you his number when he beats you to it. 

"Call me. I'll be needing that back." He grins, holding his fingers like a phone to his ear. You can't help the shy giggle that leaves you. 

The guy, Eddie as you have just learned, then sprints through the rain and into the bus you hadn't even realized had stopped moments before. 

He leaves you speechless and giddy. Butterflies are fluttering around in your stomach, making you dizzy. You have to sit down or else you think you might faint. 

Never have you had an interaction like this. Something so simple and sweet. He drew you in front the first second you laid eyes on him. 

It only takes you a few minutes to remember to come back to reality. Quickly you put his number in your phone under "hoodie guy (Eddie)" 

.... 

It's a few days later when you finally work up the courage to call hoodie guy. It’s maybe three in the afternoon and as the other line rings and rings your nerves begin to eat at you as you wonder if he did really want you to call him, maybe a text would have been better. 

Your thoughts are cut short when a rather chipper voice answers. “Y’ello?”

“Hi, is this Eddie?” You swear your anxiousness can be heard in your voice. 

“Yeah… and who is this?” He questions. 

“Oh, um. This is the girl you gave your hoodie to the other day, remember?” 

“I remember you.” You could almost hear the smile stretching across his face. “Was beginning to think you wouldn’t call.”

You had it bad. Really bad. Just speaking to him for these few seconds had your heart racing. “Sorry about that. I wanted to wash it before I called.” You give him your name then, shyly introducing yourself. 

He chuckles in response, “Pretty name for a very pretty girl.” 

You’re glad this is a phone call, otherwise, Eddie would see how badly you are blushing. Your face is white hot and beet red, a dead giveaway to how this stranger has totally smitten you with two limited interactions.

You don’t realize you have been quiet this whole time until Eddie speaks up once more. “Hello? You there pretty girl?"

"Y-yeah," you stutter. "I'm here." You blush impossibly harder. 

"Would you like to meet me at the coffee shop by the bus stop we met at? It'll be my treat." There's a hopefulness to his question. 

You nod only to realize he obviously can't see you. "Yes," you answer. "I'd love to."

"Great! Can you be there in thirty?" 

"Sure. I'll head that way now."

Excitedly you begin to get ready, putting way too much effort into your outfit, but hey it's not wrong to want to look good for the guy you find insanely attractive.

… 

Thirty minutes later you are walking into the coffee shop dressed up in a cute, green corduroy pinafore dress, perfect for the upcoming fall weather, and a giant hoodie in your grasp. 

You don't notice the large guy coming up to your side until he's poking a finger into your shoulder to grab your attention. 

You jump at the sudden poke and turn to face the culprit. 

"Oh'" you say surprised. "Hi."

"Hi." He smiles back. "I'm sitting over there if you want to take a seat. What do you want to drink?"

You're quick to shake your head. "You really don't have to do that. I can pay for my part." You start fumbling for your card in the back of your phone case. 

He places a hand over yours. "I insist. What would you like?”

It doesn’t take much for you to give in and tell him your go-to order. After he repeats it back to you, you head to the table by the window Eddie had pointed to. His denim jacket was hung over the back of the chair, leaving you the booth seat to settle into. 

The cafe is relatively empty, save for the two baristas behind the counter and the older man seated at the corner table reading a book, so it doesn’t take long for Eddie to come back with two coffees carefully balanced in one large hand and a plate with a warm croissant. 

You try to help him but he tuts you away, quickly saying, “I got it, I got it.” He sets the plate down first before placing your glass in front of you and his before him. Then, he sits. 

You both take slow sips from your coffee and as he looks intently at you with those eyes, you try and avoid them. 

“This is for you.” He pushes the bread in your direction with the knuckle of his forefinger. 

“I- thank you.” A fierce blush starts to creep up your neck and you busy yourself by drinking some more.

You know that Eddie can tell you’re nervous. Who wouldn’t be able to tell with your seldom eye contact and soft, stuttering words? He starts the conversation off slow, easing you into a more comfortable state, you’re grateful for it. 

Questions like “How’s your day going” to his only little version of twenty questions finally get you to break out of your shell. He makes you laugh, a lot, to the point your stomach hurts and your muscles ache. 

Conversation flows easily after the initial bump in the road. You’ve talked about college and life after; he’s studying in the music department with plans to eventually become a professional musician. He tells you about his dreams and ambitions and you can’t help but feel inspired. You tell him about the book you would love to write one day and he listens intently. He even asks questions and refers to things you stated previously in the conversation. Never have you had such a connection with anyone, not even your closest friends. 

Eddie is so charming and witty that it barely even registers when both of your hands meet in the middle of the table. His larger fingers play with your smaller ones and you converse in your own little world. 

You’re only broken from your state of enchantment with the other when a cafe worker approaches you.

“I’m sorry guys but we close at four on Sundays and it’s ten till.” The worker gives you a strained smile, the underlying message, “Please leave.”

You gasp in shock. “How have we been here for three hours?”

Eddie looked at you, just as surprised. “Well, time does fly when you’re having fun, pretty girl.” 

You shake your head. The complement turned pet name making you blush every time he said it but not as hard as when your name rolled off his tongue. 

“Come on,” he says, standing to his feet. “I’ll take you home.”  He reaches for your hand and pulls you up after you quickly gather up your purse and his hoodie. 

As you walk out, you both apologize profusely to the two workers for staying right until closing. 

“How are you gonna take me home?” You ask. “You took the bus the day we met.” You really didn’t want him spending an extra bus fare just to escort you home.

He gives you a lopsided grin. “I took the bus 'cause I had an inkling not to listen to the weather. This is my usual ride.” Eddie arcs his hand out in front of you both, gesturing to the sleek black motorcycle resting by the curb. 

“Woah. That is actually really cool.” You gush. You had always wondered what it would be like to ride on a motorcycle. 

Eddie reaches out and grabs the helmet strapped to the seat and hands it to you. “Wear this.” 

“What about you?”

“You’re precious cargo, far more important than me.” He answers before helping place it over your head and buckle it under your chin. Then he takes his hoody from your arms and ties it around your waist. “That should cover you up enough.” He gestures to your dress. You hadn't even thought about that detail and his mindfulness had you swooning. 

He gives you a small but thorough lesson on what you do as a passenger before getting on and then helping you on after. 

He drives slowly, taking less busy streets to the address you gave him, and the whole time you cling to him. Your heart beats wildly in your chest at the feeling of freedom as the wind whips around you. Every so often, Eddie will reach for your hand at his waist, or when you are stopped at a red light he automatically reaches back to cup your legs, fingers dragging up the back of your calves. 

You’re sad when the ride comes to a stop outside your apartment building. You are slow you follow him off the bike and even slower to let him remove the helmet. This amazing time was coming to an end and you desperately didn’t want it to. 

You can feel his calloused fingers tickle your chin as he undoes the strap. He’s careful to pull the protective gear off, fixing the strands of hair that fall out of place when he’s done. You cherish the warmth coming from his palm and it really feels like he’s about to kiss you. And you wouldn’t mind if he did. No matter if you only just met him or if this seemed to be moving fast, you wanted to know what those plump lips felt like on your own. 

He leans in and your breath hitches in your lungs, your eyes close as you prepare with the one thing you need at this moment. Only, Eddie doesn’t kiss your lips, instead, he places a gentle peck on your cheek. You deflate, sad his target was somewhere else. 

“Eddie?” You ask softly.

“Yeah?” He mutters your name, eyes staring into yours. 

“I had a great time.” 

“Me too, pretty girl.”

“Thank you for bringing me home.” 

“You’re welcome.” He backs away from you and you frown just a bit. “You should get inside.” 

“I should… I’ll text you?”

“Nothing I’d want more.” He slides his leg back over onto his bike and you turn to walk away.

“By Eddie.” You only get a few feet before you pause. “Oh, wait.” You untie his hoodie from your waist and rush back to Eddie’s side. “Here.”

He shakes his head. “You keep it. Looks better on you than it ever will on me. Plus, it’ll give me a reason to come see you again.” 

You become shy again and the mention of seeing him again, hopeful that this wasn’t just a one-time thing to get his clothes back and that he will answer when you text or call him.

“Bye, pretty girl.” He grins and you watch him put his helmet on but he doesn’t leave just yet. No, he only leaves after he sees you enter your building and you waive to him from beyond the glass door. 

[lefarte]

rahhhhh pretty please taking care of an injured levi 🙏maybe even lost a limb… whatever you want… as long as he is cared for as he deserves

Yesssss of course

Warnings for amputation, emetophobia (not discussed in detail). Hurt/comfort, this could be platonic, and GN reader.

The train had been rolling through the mountains for what felt like days.

After the end of the festival, the train was nearly empty. Very few made it back to board. With no conductor, the train kept on rolling and rolling, as if by magic. You imagined it would keep going until it broke.

Even still, it had stopped in several places, and each of the survivors had left. All but you and Levi remained, with nowhere to go, no stop to get off at.

It was violently chilly within the cabin so you two would sit together. He shook like a leaf. He hadn’t been able to regulate his body temperature since the infection left him feverish and dizzy. You kept him warm by feeding him shots of vodka and holding opium pipes to his mouth. You had torn the curtains off the windows to fashion into a faux-blanket, but in his sleep he always kicked it off.

“Just drink,” You pressed the bottle against his lips, holding his head in your lap. “Drink it…”

He made a miserable whimpering noise, already wasted. “I can do it - hic - myself…”

He grabbed the bottle out of your hands with his own clammy paws. Vodka and the occasional slice of bread had been the only thing keeping your stomachs from churning. The train had long since passed your stop (it had run in a long loop to west Voroniya to Oldëgarde and to Rondon). You refused to leave him alone. He couldn’t even walk.

The bottle slipped out of his hands and broke with a sudden crack. Then, he hunched over and started convulsing, violently, and vomited on your shoes.

“No - fuck - I’m sorr -“ He gasped between convulsions. You scrambled to hold his hair back. “I’m sorr- y - god I’m a - I’m a - fuck up —!!“

“It’s okay!” You held on tightly. He was sweating hard, his whole body cold. “No, you’re okay…”

“‘S nooottt okay…” he panted, letting out one more painful cough. “I couldn’t hold it… I….”

Not knowing what else to say, you gave him a tight hug. He groaned drunkenly.

“I’m not mad.” You ran your hand through his hair.

“I got your shoes…. Dirty…” He muttered hoarsely.

You shook your head. “They were ruined anyway.”

He returned to a normal-ish state shortly thereafter (normal for Levi). He was clearly still shaken up about the noise of the bottle dropping, but he seemed embarassed, and his embarrassment had stifled his panic. You had nothing but more beer to help the taste, which he seemed to have wanted more of anyway. Despite being so small he could really hold his alcohol.

After a moments silence, you heard a hiss of pain from your lap again.

“Does it still hurt?”

“I won’t throw up.” He promised meekly.

“I don’t care about that, does it hurt?” You insisted.

He hesitated and then nodded. “….hold… me… again… please.”

You sat him up and held his head up to your chest. You felt his pale body shaking restlessly and his stomach cramping. You felt his ragged breaths hitting your neck.

“It’s okay,” you whispered. He shook his head.

“I want to go back,” he croaked. “I want to go back to prehevil. I should’ve… gone with everyone else… I… wish I’d stayed in the orphanage, I wish I was one of them.”

“Don’t say that.”

“…” He nodded.

“At the next stop, we’re going to a hospital. Look, I already saw a house. There will be more nearby. And don’t say you don’t want to go.”

“I can’t walk… my legs…” He closed his eyes. “My legs are gone.”

“I’ll carry you - I don’t know…”

He took a long, pained breath through his nose, and nuzzled into your neck like how a kitten would. His eyes were still closed, he was so drunk he was delirious. This was the first time he had ever gotten so affectionate with you. To anyone, as far as you could see. You gave him a squeeze.

“I’m tired.” He admitted. His voice was close to you, nearly speaking into your ear. “Really tired. Can I sleep with you tonight?”

Your hand went up to gently rub his upper back. “Yes, of course. Of course, Levi.”

He sighed. “That feels nice.”

“Really?” You petted him. “I’ll keep doing it, then.”

He held you tighter and made another small noise. “Thanks.”

After a while, he was asleep, and a backdrop of houses began to roll in. Soon, you’d be in town.

[barbiecrocs]

Bad Acting

Miguel O'Hara

Part 1 Part 2

tags! Actress x Businessman, masturbating(fem)

WC.1743

Barbies Note... I'm like the Boruto Manga the way I'm uploading once a month. Keep em waiting 😜😜😜 Anyway, not much to say but ENJOYYYYYYY

Bad News

You finally make it home after a painful morning meeting with your manager Lyla when you realize how much your back hurts. Setting your purse and jacket on the coat hanger by the door, you start feeling a buzzing sensation from your purse. Digging out the item you find that it’s your personal phone getting lit up by some unknown number. You press decline but they call again and send a text message before you can block them.

“I guess giving me the cold shoulder is the only way to get back at “him”, huh?”

You almost overlook the message, thinking it was some crazed fan who found your number until the gears in your head click. You kiss your teeth when you think of standing toe to toe with him in a heated verbal dispute that was most likely started by you out of sudden anger. “Fucker. How dare you?” You frown, muttering as you type those exact thoughts adding the question, “How did you get my number? I changed it like three times.” Onto the back. The reply you get is immediate. “I’m not supposed to say.” He says which is… ominous for sure but also a little out of character for him. Almost as if he weren't here to start an unnecessary argument with you or ruin the rest of your day. “We have better things to discuss. I have a favor to ask of you, but it’s the kind of thing that should be asked in person if you catch my drift.”

Hell. Nah. And that’s where you’ll leave it. In fact, you’ll wipe the pointless conversation from your memory.

You stare at your phone, the feeling of cringe almost overflowing as you read the text. No, you don’t catch his damn drift. His words don't answer any questions and only confuse you more after he drops a time and place for today before going radio silent.

. Seriously, the audacity of this man! To grab your personal number from where ever the fuck, or whoever the fuck, and contact you early in the morning like a close friend, knowing you are no longer that and hate his guts. Well, not his guts. More like his brother’s to be frank, but in your eyes they are basically the same person. Hell, Miguel is probably where Gabriel learned all his terrible behavior because why wouldn’t he take after his bigger brother? Anyway, despite knowing your distaste for the family, he still tried it? It truly makes you wonder if there's a brain up there, at least a working brain cell. Then he thinks that you’d meet up with him? That you’d do him a favor? Pshhhhh, a dream if he ever had one.

Setting the shower to your preferred temperature, you lock the door and shut the windows to prevent the steam from escaping. You set your phone face down on your bathroom’s pristine marble counter before getting ready to shower and laze around the house all day. Having already kicked off your shoes at the front door, you begin undressing. First, your socks, then leggings, next, your top and bra, and lastly your makeup. Drying your face, you close your eyes as a huge breath is sucked into your mouth and released in one big whoosh as a sigh. Almost all nerves are terminated except the last one that weighs on your mind, telling you this seems like a too-good-to-be-true dream.

But, even if it is, you won’t mind falling for it just this once because you rarely get a full day to yourself. Just think about all the things you can do. The thought makes a pleasurable shiver run up your spine, releasing a certain set of chemicals in your brain, and you refuse to deny what they want your body to do. Finally, the steam surrounds your body and it’s not long until you get caught up in the mood of things and start feeling another heartbeat between your legs. You step into the bathtub, with not only a small gratifying smile on your face but a different objective than what you originally came for. You let the water run down your body, watching it as it hits your chest as a whole before breaking up into multiple streams again. Some travel down the valley of your breast while others go haywire with all types of twists and turns after running down your boobs, ribcage, and curves of your midsection. Once you’re warm, you begin getting into position, knees to your chest, under the bathtub faucet switching the water from the shower head to the nozzle below.

The water wastes no time making its way to your clit making you gasp from the suddenness even though you should’ve been prepared since its release was in your hands. Nevertheless, this miniscule experience doesn’t dull the tender leg-shaking feeling the water gives you. The pressure, the warmth, the wetness, it’s everything as you let the water beat up on your clit in the best way possible. A hand sneaks around your butt, gently feeling around as to not break emersion before sliding your fingers into your pussy, but they don’t do much considering the lack of length on them. But you still crave a little more stimulation even going as far as pulling the hood on your clit back a bit before feeling your orgasm come on too quick for your liking. This is a once-in-a-lifetime experience and you will savor and drag it out for as long as you can. Trying to get more than 24 hours out of the 24 hours the day has given you. Plus, everything feels better when you have to wait for it, just like this day. Just like your orgasm, but it doesn’t hit you as it usually would. There’s a build-up to it that explodes with pleasure in the middle but also plateaus at the highest peak before gradually coming down with half-lidded eyes and a brain that buzzes oh so sweetly with every thought. You push away from the faucet and lay there until you can get a hold of your bearings, letting out a big sigh before rising to your feet to continue where you left off.

You feel excited as you step out of the shower and into your robe and slippers, only to realize that you finally have the opportunity to go through your whole skin and body care routine. The thought brings not only a smile to your face but also motivation to shave your whole body neck to toe. Another shiver skips down your spine but this time it was one of joy. Oh, how ecstatic you were for something so minuscule in others eyes. Mental Health Days with a sprinkle of body care have been one of your favorite things in the world ever since breaking up with your toxic ex. Your mind begins to drift into the past but you quickly stop yourself, only preaching to look forward in life, never back.

In the midst of jamming to your music and putting on your gel face mask you get a call. At first, you roll your eyes thinking it was Miguel again until you remember that you blocked his ass immediately after the interaction y’all had. You pat various places on your counter until looking down and see your phone missing, not having time to look for it, you tell Alexa to answer it for you.

“Hello-” Before you can get a whole sentence out a loud voice overcomes yours, “Finally the little diva picks up the phone. I’ve been calling you for the past 20 minutes. Do you have any idea how much my phone bill is gonna be?”

“You can’t blame that on me. You know, most people would stop calling after the third one and say, “Hm, it looks like she’s busy right now. I guess I’ll call later.” And go on about their day waiting for either a callback or a reasonable time to call again.” You huff, half frustrated that you can’t find your phone and half frustrated that Lyla interrupted your Mental Health day. Unbeknownst to you, Lyla retorts something but as said, it goes over your head as you search your house room to room, upside and down, and inside and out. In defeat, you stalk back into your bathroom, head down only to see your phone on the floor behind the toilet. You can feel your eye twitch before a reasonable roar rips through you and Lyla goes silent on the other side. It seems as if you’ve broken her train of thought because she begins talking about what she truly called you for. Which would seem like a relief for you, but in reality it’s not.

Anyhow, you put your phone down and begin the second half of your skincare, body care.

“Anyway, I noticed that your schedule seemed too empty today, so I did you a favor and-” Before she finishes her thought, you cut her off. 

“NO!” You yell and everything goes quiet. Her breath hitches on the other side and you continue your thought after realizing she isn’t going to chip in. “My schedule is very much full today with me, myself, and I. No room for anything else today, sorry.” You say and right before you can hang up she manages to get a word in. “Oh, come on! You act like I filled up your schedule. I only booked one thing, which you would’ve known if you paid attention to your phone because I sent it to you! Plus you should drop the 'tude! Everything I do is for you and your success. I mean that as a friend and your manager.” Your shoulders sag seeing how right she is when you turn on your phone only to see ten missed calls and desperate texts. “Ugh, what is it even about?” Dread oozing from your voice.

“Read the calendar I sent you.”

“When is it?” You push for an answer which you still don’t get.

“Read the calendar I sent you!”

“Where is it?” You push once more, tipping her over the edge.

“READ THE CALENDAR- UGH YOU KNOW WHAT? I ALREADY KNOW YOU’RE DOING THIS TO GET ON MY NERVES, BYE GIRL.” She hangs up in your face and you silently chuckle to yourself, "Payback." You mutter. Opening up your text messages you see that she sent you one last text after the call.

'Hm, it's a link.' You think as you hesitate to tap, praying that this isn't another meeting.

Your thumb finally makes contact with the screen and a dark bubble in your stomach pops with relief. Well, half relief because it isn't another meeting, but a date?

MYSTERY MAN!! (Information below)

-DRESS FORMAL

-NO MONEY NEEDED (All expenses paid)

-FOOD AND ALCOHOL SERVED

-WEAR GOLD CLOTHING AND JEWELRY OR CLOSE TO IT

-THE DATE SHOULD LAST FROM 8:00PM TO AS LATE AS 12AM

-MOST IMPORTANTLY, HAVE FUN

-LYLA WILL BE IN THE ROOM TO ENSURE NO ONE GETS HANDSY yet ;)

XOXO, Your manager.

Knowing that you most likely won't be able to control whatever happens next, you pour yourself a moderate glass of red wine, turn on your favorite show, and kick back on your sofa to enjoy the rest of your mental health day before getting back up again.

Barbies Note... Two Barbie Notes in this chapter?🤨🤨🤨 Yes. Anyway I just wanted to say that this chapter was a bit of a snooze fest, ik ik but the next chapter should be more interesting with some lore dropping😼

[velvetwyrms]

Just an update about my GaaLee Alien!AU fanfic Falling Fast Through Fragmented Universes:

I’ve finished the second to last part of the chapter that was really important to the story! Only the last section is left to write and you all have a bunch of mini fics in one chapter to read through, nearing 9k words.

Thank you for your patience. It has taken a lot of planning to get to this point in the fic as it creates a lot of really fun setup for the main adventure! 🤩🥰

Here are some goodies you all, including story title reveals and a short snippet under the cut that I’m very happy with!

[Sidenote: Reblogging helps to share and support this project. This stops my hours of hard work from dying in your likes, let’s others enjoy it, and motivates me to draw and write more of this AU! <3]

3x story title reveals:

• Nightjar

• Pink Pumpkin Party

• Neji’s Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

Snippet time: Nightjar

Holocene [Human] Era calendar year: 12,024. Beijing, China. 7:00PM.

Lee has an eyemask that when freshly washed and dried atop his boiler in the airing cupboard, is warm and soft and comfortable over Gaara’s eyes. The darkness underneath is all-encompassing, and the early evening hour means that the volume of the TV does not have to be turned down just yet. Lee had shown him how to use something called a YouTube on a whim before he left for work.

Currently Gaara was being swaddled by the music of a desert ambience video at dusk. Rushing wind and the harsh cries of birds settling down to sleep, shrieking owls, and the scuttling of animals over shifting sand, all greeted his ears like a gentle, familial kiss on the cheek.

Gaara could almost smell the sun-baked aridisol; herbal and dusty. Could feel the particles suspended within the air drying and coating his tongue, and the brisk, freezing temperature drop as the sun dipped below canyon walls. The electromagnetic pull within the softness of sand spilling between his fingertips like water.

It did not feel like an oasis when he was living on his home planet. Gaara was brought forth into his world through blood and through pain, and buried in his bones the old songs of his childhood were waking around him, as the desert came alive at night.

Homesickness floored him with longing so intense that it built as a deep ache in his chest. A raw, still-healing wound prying itself open and clutching at his throat with a sudden, choking despair that took his breath away.

It hurts.

It hurts in its nostalgia, in the knowledge that he will not be able to return to the chattering, trilling, howling environment of which he was born into. At least, not for now. Not for the foreseeable future, not unless he’s careful, but the risk is still too dire, too soon to act upon.

A familiar pressure awoke behind his eyes, shifted in his guts as Shukaku stirred within the embrace of his memories. Gaara could almost imagine it raising its head, sniffing at the air in confusion. His nerves fizzled with anticipation and he held bated breath, before it stretched out sharp, pawed feet and rolled over to settle back down into a deep and dreamless sleep.

Gaara was suddenly made aware of how lonely he felt. He half-expected the tears that welled, creating a film behind his eyelids, to dry out as he opened them, athough the material of the mask ruined the illusion just a little.

He misses his siblings, he misses the biome of his home, he misses his Sand with a soul-deep loss and desperation that he had only ever experienced as a grieving child, and then again in his late teenage years. Aside from the few essential items he possessed, his clothing and the book he carried in his small satchel, his Sand was the only truly meaningful thing that he had left from his homeworld.

He had carried it throughout his entire life.

And now it is gone.

In theory, he could create more. If he were to venture downstairs and cause some small amount of destruction, limited to whatever soil or stone was available from the reach of the main entrance of this block of flats. But it wouldn’t be the same. It wouldn’t smell of home; of clay and blood and iron, the minerals and dust of creatures long dead and eroded away, by the elements or by his own hand.

[valkyrieromanoff]

⚰️HALLWAY GHOST: Sam Monroe x you (day 20 of 31)

synopsis: you and Sam break into the abandoned school to investigate whether the ghost in the hallway really existed.

warning: none

a/n: hello there, i don’t why but i can’t stop writing about him, hope you enjoy it ;)

ᴄʀᴇᴇᴘꜱ ᴄʟᴏꜱᴇʀ ɴᴏᴡ ᴄʟᴏꜱᴇʀ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰᴏᴏᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴏꜰᴛᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀɴ ꜱʜᴀᴅᴏᴡ ᴀɴᴅ Qᴜɪᴄᴋᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀɴ ꜰʟɪᴇꜱ

"It's definitely just nonsense," Sam muttered, his tone flat, trying to mask the slight tremor in his voice as he watched you pry open the old school window. Midnight bathed the building in a haunting stillness, with only the faint glow of streetlights and the distant moon illuminating.

"If you're so sure," you teased lightly, "then help me open this, and we'll settle it once and for all." Sam sighed, rolling his eyes but stepping closer. His hands brushed past yours as he heaved the window higher, casting a fleeting glance at the creeping shadows beyond the glass. His skepticism remained, though it clung to a thin layer of bravado.

You slipped through the gap first, legs swinging into the darkness of the empty school. Sam looked away out of respect. He followed quickly, his feet landing softly on the floor behind you.

With flashlights in hand, you wandered deeper into the cold, hollow corridors of the school. The air smelled of mildew, stale and abandoned, the silence pressing in around you. You were grateful the school’s security system was nonexistent in the 60s, meaning no alarms to betray your late-night investigation.

"Second floor, near the chemistry lab—that's where they say it happened," you explained, your voice cutting through the thick, oppressive quiet. The beam of your flashlight scanned over rows of lockers, each creak of your footsteps echoing unnervingly in the empty hall.

Sam quickened his pace toward the stairs, his flashlight flickering briefly. "Let's get this over with," he mumbled, his earlier nonchalance sounding more like impatience. His attempt to hide the crack in his confidence was clear, especially when you caught him glancing nervously over his shoulder.

"If you're not scared, why the rush?" you teased, moving closer to him. He didn’t respond, only quickened his steps. You smirked and continued, "You know the legend, right? About the ghost boy? It was back in the '60s, this place was an all-boys boarding school."

Sam shot you a bored look. "Yeah? And?"

"And fifty years ago tonight, a group of boys lured one of their classmates into the chemistry lab. They were dabbling in dark stuff, offering him as a sacrifice to the devil." Your voice dropped low, adding a dramatic flair as you narrated. "They never found his body, but some say his spirit's still here—trapped, wandering these halls. Lost, forever."

A sudden thud—like a tree branch scraping against a window—made both of you jump. Sam let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, forcing a casual laugh, though it came out strained.

"Please, I’d rather die than be stuck in school forever," Sam quipped, trying to regain his cool. You nudged him playfully.

"Well, he's already dead, so..."

You reached the stairs to the second floor, a strip of old caution tape fluttering weakly in the stale air. No one had set foot here in decades; crumbling plaster and broken bricks littered the steps. The atmosphere thickened with an ominous chill as you ascended, the temperature dropping noticeably.

"Here we are," you whispered, barely louder than the wind that whistled through shattered windows, sending goosebumps down your spine. The hallway stretched out before you, lined with half-ruined doors, dark and foreboding. Sam snorted, trying to maintain his cynical veneer.

"See? Nothing." His voice echoed down the deserted corridor. But then, as if on cue, one of the classroom doors slammed shut with a force that reverberated through the floor. You gasped, clutching his arm, your pulse racing. Sam froze, his breath hitching as he scanned the shadows for an explanation.

"It’s just... the wind," he muttered, though his voice wavered. "Come on, let’s go."

"But what about the ghost?" you whispered, fear creeping into your tone as you looked down the hallway, feeling unseen eyes on you.

Sam tugged at your arm, trying to drag you back toward the stairs. "It’s all bullshit. Don’t get spooked."

Just then, a slow, metallic scraping sound echoed through the hallway—the unmistakable sound of something heavy being dragged along the floor. And then, a piercing screech, like nails on a chalkboard, ripped through the silence, making both of you flinch.

Without thinking, you bolted toward one of the classrooms, pulling Sam in with you. The door slammed shut behind you, and in a panic, you both shoved a table and chairs against it. As you slid down to the floor, your backs pressed against the wall, you sat in tense silence, hearts pounding in unison.

"If it’s a ghost... it can walk through walls, right?" you whispered, barely able to think clearly.

Sam let out a shaky breath. "Ghosts don’t exist."

You tilted your head toward him, raising an eyebrow. "It’s Halloween... the night when the veil between the living and the dead is thinnest."

Sam chuckled nervously. "And where’d you hear that? Some horror movie?"

"I read it on the bathroom door."

Despite the fear, he laughed softly, shaking his head. The tension momentarily broke, but it lingered between you both. "I still don’t believe in ghosts," he insisted, though his voice lacked the confidence it had earlier.

You leaned your head against his shoulder, your heart finally starting to slow. "Maybe we should just wait it out. Until morning."

"Yeah..." Sam agreed, his voice soft, though his eyes remained fixed on the door, the fear growing quietly in his gaze as the legend of the ghost seemed to take root in his mind.

[light-end-dragon]

Chapter 1

Cain: Okay! This is definitely the place that request was talking about.

Arthur: Yes, the map that was included all but confirms it, but…Master Sage, do you sense anything? 

Akira: No, I thought this would be a desolate place, but there’s nothing really distinct…

The three of us tilted our heads in concert, confused about the outcome.

We were visiting a deserted town in the Central kingdom, on yet another report of an incident caused by the Great Calamity. 

“There is something terrifying haunting the ruins of the former town-the air is so cold scary it’s so horrible please come quickly” That was all the chaotic contents of the letter said, so we went immediately to investigate-

Bradley: Lemme give you what I think. These weird-ass air chills and fear they’re talkin’ about or whatever- it ain’t caused by the Calamity at all. 

Arthur: Is there a reason you’re able to be so certain, Bradley? 

Bradley: It’s real simple. You lot would even be able to figure it out eventually; do you see any signs of the Calamity bein’ here? 

Bradley: Cause there aren’t any. And so my job here is done. 

Cain: Okay, okay. Look, I know you’re just here for the pardon, but we can’t exactly bring a proper end to this deal like that. 

Bradley: Who gives a shit about proper? If it’s nothin’, it’s nothin’. 

Bradley: The twins jus’ flapped their traps about  “helpin’ investigate this strange incident.” If you want me to hunt down this 'chilly thing', I’m gonna need some extra incentive. 

Bradley gave a flippant wave of the hand, but for some reason, his gaze kept shifting over to the forest on the other side of the ruined walls. 

Akira:  ….? Um, Bradley, is there something over–

Bradley: Have a good rest of yer night there-don’t fuck ‘round too long! 

(Sound of Bradley whooshing away.)

Arthur: Ah-! He’s gone…..

Cain: Of course he is…..but at any rate, I should probably wrap it up this one time now. 

Cain: Magic and curses aren't the only things that would cause chills and strange behaviors like this. If its poison or a sickness, it’s better to let doctors take the stage. 

Arthur: That is a good point….Master Sage, Cain and I can report back to Drummond this time. 

Arthur: It may be useful to approach this from a different angle for us to help the frightened residents….would that be okay with you? 

Akira: Of course. Please, if you two wouldn’t mind…

Arthur: Thank you very much, Master sage. Then shall we return to the Manor as well?

Cain: Yeah.

Cain nodded, but then oddly his gaze drifted over to the ruined walls. He muttered something under his breath, like he didn’t want anyone to hear. 

Cain: Still…it wasn’t from the Calamity? 

Cain: This has to be where that incident took place, though….

Akira: That incident….?

Arthur + Sacrificium: ….!

With a sudden snap, both Arthur and Sacrikitty turned towards the forest. 

Just one beat behind, Cain turned around as well, ready to face whatever it was. 

(Sound of wind blowing through.)

There wasn’t a chance for me to wonder how or why as a cold icy wind flew past my face.

Because the temperature then dropped dramatically, to an unnatural degree. 

There was no need to ask Cain or Arthur what was going on; I understood instinctively.

Something terrifying was heading towards us from the forest.

Akira: (Oh God, oh God, I’m so scared, it’s so scary so scary so scary scary oh God….) 

Nothing was even happening, yet my legs gave out underneath me, forcing me to shakily sit on the ground.

(Sound of clothes shifting as Akira falls onto the ground.)

Hugging Sacrikitty close, I buried my face into its body, feeling like I was losing control of myself from the horrid chill. 

I was afraid I might let out a cry if I didn’t. 

Cain: Akira?! Are you okay??! 

Arthur: Master Sage……I-what….why…why can’t I move?!! 

Arthur had his gaze cast deliberately down, like he was trying to avert his eyes from something. 

(Sound of leaves rustling in the distance.)

As he did so, the trees in the forest started rustling. 

Something was coming; something I must not look at. 

Akira: Aahh…..

It was just a fleeting shadow on the edge of my vision, but it was enough for me to form a picture; a strange, distorted figure covered in a pitch black mourning veil, dragging the train along in the dirt.

A swollen, distorted head shaped like rotten fruit; skeletal arms so long they almost touched the ground; and a body that was twisted a complete 180 degrees towards us.

Akira: …..ck……

Arthur: Th…that's…..the spirit…..

Cain: Master Sage, Arthur!

(Sound of footsteps running.)

Neither Arthur nor I were able to raise our heads still, but I heard the sound of frantic footsteps as Cain burst out between us and the approaching figure. 

Cain: Run!! I’ll hold it off!!

Arthur: C….Cain! No….it’s dangerous!

Cain: That’s why you need to get out of here!! Go, now!! 

(Sound of Cain drawing his sword.)

Cain raised his sword as the sound of gravel being crunched underfoot drew nearer. 

Cain: Fuck, this really is some sort of demon! I…I can see it just fine…..

???: sA…W……saw…

???: You…sAW it.

Cain: Huh? 

???: You saw iT….you sawit yousawityousawityousawitYOUSAWITYOUSAWITYOUSAWITYOUSAWITYOUSAWITYOUSAWYOUSAWYOUSAWYOUSAWYOUSAW

Bradley: ….Don’t make eye contact, you fucking idiot!!!

(Sound of magic, then several gunshots being fired.)

An echo of a gunshot rang out, and instantly the oppressive chill faded.

When I finally managed to raise my head, I caught a glimpse of the spirit trying to flee into the forest, Bradley hovering above us on his broom.

Cain, who had stood his ground between us and the demonic being, lowered his sword with a sigh of relief.

All the while tears of thick, oozing blood trailed from his golden-colored eye. 

Akira + Arthur: ….?!

Cain: Uaah!! What the-what the hell-?! 

Bradley: Fuck, this is why I wanted to get outta here!

Bradley cursed up a storm, all the while wiping at his eyes with his thumb. Even so, I could still see the dark red color that stained his skin.

Akira: Cain! Bradley…!

Arthur: Are you two okay?! I’m so sorry, it’s because I couldn’t move……

Cain: It’s not your fault, Arthur. See? The two of us are fine-

Bradley: We ain’t fine.

Bradley: This blood’s the sign of a curse. Me an’ Mr. Knight here are cursed.

Arthur: Cursed…?

Bradley: Yep.

Bradley: That thing will keep huntin’ us down, even to the ends of the earth. Just to kill us.

-----------------------------:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･------------------------------

Cain: Faust, thanks for coming. I’m real sorry to bother you like this.

Faust: It’s fine, really.

A short while after. We had moved from the abandoned town to a meadow far away from any civilization.

Arthur had sent a letter to the Manor to beg for Faust’s help in the matter, and he had arrived here as well.

According to Bradley, the two of them could only use weak magic now, about what it took to fly a broom.

Any more than that, and that “Wandering Lament” would immediately be able to sense them.

Faust: Anyway, you were saying you were cursed by this wandering spirit..? 

Bradley: This shit’s your specialty, right? Can ya fix it? 

Faust: I have all the necessary components to try, but the curse is powerful. I can’t say yes with any sort of certainty.

Akira: Um, this “Wandering Lament”.....what sort of spirit is it? The fact that it would hunt you down to the ends of the earth…..

Faust: The remnants of a deceased person that manifests from a powerful grief or some sort of lingering attachment. At this point, I wouldn’t even call it a ghost anymore; it’s just a shadow of their former self; one that’s forgotten everything. Their name, why it is they were grieving, until the only thing it has left is hatred. 

Faust: If you make eye contact with it, it forges a connection between you; and it will indiscriminately hunt down anyone who does so.

However, it didn’t seem like they’d be able to turn the tables on the demonic spirit and defeat it to end the curse.

Once a soul came into contact with this "Wandering Lament", it became akin to a water bottle that held a poisonous stone. Even if you took the stone out, the water wouldn’t become drinkable again.

And a soul that’s eaten away at by this deep resentment the spirit held would start drawing misfortune and calamity onto themselves. And before long, amidst all that ruin, they too would die, grieving and anguished.

[solrika]

I know the GI is dead by the time "The Honorable Ones" happens, but what's fanfic for if not fudging canon? Inspired by this picture of vamp!Kallus after Bahryn.

~

The last thing Kallus remembered was blinking up at the too-bright operating lights, claws absently twitching against white sheets. Then–the briefest moment of quiet dark. Consciousness ebbed in like waves lapping against the Fortress Inquisitorious–sudden, jarring jerks, like cold water in your face. 

There were fingers in his hair.

Terror had him sitting up past tearing pain, twisting to look–and just as fast, calm swept through his mind, breaking like sunlight over the ocean. He sagged, caught himself against a narrow shoulder. Muttered, “Pedaari?”

“Hound.”

Kallus let himself be eased down against the pillows. Tonguing at his lip–his fangs had managed to draw blood–he glanced around. They were in a private room, with walls and a door, instead of the flimsy privacy of curtains that he’d come to expect from the medical bay. “What’s going on?”

“You gave the doctors quite a scare.” Pedaari pushed the hair back off his forehead, and this time, Kallus leant into the touch. 

“Oh?”

“You coded three times.” The corner of Pedaari’s lip curled up in the barest snarl. “Incompetents, unable to handle a basic surgery. You’re fortunate I brought Inquisitorious medics with me.” 

Kallus frowned, reflexively reaching up to rub at his chest. He found new bandages, sticky with bacta. A quick glance at his IV bag confirmed his guess. There were so many painkillers swimming in the solution, and even kolto; they must have cracked his ribcage open again.“I–my heart stopped? From a leg surgery?” 

“Like I said.” The snarl became more pronounced. “Incompetents.” 

Kallus hummed assent, vaguely upset that he’d essentially died three times and hadn’t noticed at all. Another glance around the room failed to turn up any clues as to where they were, and he asked, “Are we still on Konstantin’s ship?”

“Regrettably, yes.” Pedaari’s eyes glinted in a way that spelled trouble for the admiral. “I still have business with him.” 

Letting his eyes slip closed, Kallus muttered, “You’re not allowed to kill him.”

“He almost killed you,” Pedaari hissed. 

“Ah.” Allowing himself a grimace, Kallus said, “So you heard about Bahryn.” By now, he should have been used to the way the air thickened in response to Pedaari’s anger. It still made a nervous shiver shoot down his spine. Wanting to placate, and not entirely sure why, he added, “It turned out fine, Ped. A merchant ship picked me up.”

“Half-dead from the cold and with a ruined leg, yes.” 

“Half-alive.”

With a low growl, Pedaari retorted, “Until these butchers got their hands on you.” 

The pressure increased, and with it came a noticeable drop in temperature. Ribs tightening in sudden anxiety, Kallus managed a relatively calm, “Pedaari. If you keep this up, you’ll be the thing freezing me solid.” 

A beat of silence, in which Kallus refused to hold his breath. Then, grudgingly, “Apologies,” and the crushing pressure retreated. 

He felt Pedaari shift, and opened his eyes just in time to see the Inquisitor pick up a familiar folded pelt. Which meant– “You raided my room.” 

Pedaari simply blinked, as if the breach of privacy was nothing. Perhaps, to him, it was–he’d always seemed to treat Kallus and his property as an extension of his own belongings. Shaking out the pelt, the Inquisitor gave it an appraising look. “You’ve kept it well.”

Rolling his eyes, Kallus muttered, “Stop staring at the damn thing and cover me up.” 

“Impatient,” Pedaari scolded, but he leant back in, tucking the fur around Kallus’ body. 

Kallus let himself be moved, and then– “I’m still cold.”

“Such ingratitude.” Pedaari grinned, though, flicking up a corner of the blankets. And then waited, damn him. 

Usually, Kallus could have out-stubborned him, but today he was sore and still had tiredness dogging his mind. It wasn’t worth their usual dance. With a huff, he relented. “Oh, you–just get in.” 

It was a tricky fit, considering Kallus’ shoulders and Pedaari’s armor, but one they’d made before in much less agreeable places. He’d grown used to the way Pedaari’s belt jabbed him in the stomach. Pedaari, in turn, had grown used to the prick of claws between armor plates, and the jut of Kallus’ nose against his neck. 

They settled into place, Pedaari resettling the fur more securely around Kallus’ shoulders, carefully slipping a pillow behind his back. What had to be a touch of the Force kept his ruined ribcage a few breaths from crushing itself against the chestplate of Pedaari’s armor. Kallus squeezed his eyes shut against a sudden prick of tears. He had felt warmth since the ice moon, of course, had come back and turned the heater on high in his tiny room. Somehow, though, this felt–

Kallus pressed himself further into the strip of skin above Pedaari’s collar. 

Softly, stroking up his back, Pedaari asked, “Are you hungry?” 

Into his neck, “Usually you make me earn it.”

“Under the circumstances,” and Pedaari’s hand swept up to hold the nape of Kallus’ neck, giving it a gentle squeeze, “I think you’ve done enough.” 

Kallus opened his mouth, lapped against hot skin just to feel the twitch of fingers against his spine. Murmured, “How did you know?”

“Mm?” 

“That I was—” he swallowed around the idea of dying, unconscious and unable to stop it. Like the ice moon, but worse, because at least then he’d been awake. “That I needed help.”  “I told you, Hound.” Pedaari squeezed again, a little harder. Obeying the implicit command, Kallus bit, groaning softly as his mouth filled with blood. It was always so sweet. “I take care of what’s mine.”

[itstheendofthegoddamnworld]

Vampyre Hunter: Dimas

A/N: I’m back after a bit of a hiatus. I will be keeping updates to a minimum. Yes, the title is from Witcher. The Witcher-esque idea has returned after I made Daelora the Wood elf. This is set in the same universe as her story, maybe in a different part of a different town.

Relationship: male monster x gn (gender neutral) reader

Tags: gore, violence, lots of blood, swearing, angst-filled.

Word count: 3k

Part 1    |    Part 2

Support me on Ko-fi!~    Patreon

Silver for Monsters

-

The snowstorm poured in from the north, chills mixed with the howling gale, screams neither belonging to those living nor dead.

Steunzen had the worst winters: for hundreds of years the town had stood, yet it barely survived a winter or its storm. You had to be blessed with a bountiful autumn before it was swept away with chills and deaths.

The Saints could’ve brought a better harvest by year’s end. You thought, finding yourself gathering more wood in the shed. A simple tailor, you lived a comfortable life, yet winter came and ruined everything, including your sales from far out of Steunzen.

You had enough to get you by, though it was not much to keep your home warm. This year’s storm must’ve been the worst in your twenty-four years of living; cursed the people whispered, Steunzen was cursed from some malevolent evil.

Gossip spread along the wind with ease, from house to house, business to business, and people spoke of what evil it was. Some saw it, some guessed: a being that snuck at night into people’s homes, draining them of their blood similar to the Vampyres of the West.

Foolish, you thought, just to keep children behaving. There would be no such thing.

But people grew restless with their accounts. Starting small: missing chickens, a dead household cat, before the worst came to a vicar living near you.

A wild beast, you thought, still in denial, though your fear had not heightened.

You sighed, wiping the frozen sweat from your brow, still warm to the touch despite the coolness. The temperature had dropped dramatically, meaning you had to get back inside before the cold reached your hearth, and it would take forever for you to bring the flames back.

From the howling winds, the trees seemed to look like figures, swaying harshly as everything around you screamed. It was only when you thought you had been dreaming: a moving shadow, a tree that had come to life.

No, it was far from that.

He sat on a pale horse, its rider as dark as Death itself, lurking through the blizzard like a whispering shadow. He appeared before you like an apparition, his horse silent as he looked upon you.

He was dressed all in black, disguised in the darkness that you did a double take to the stranger.

It was hard to guess his features, a cowl covered his face from the cold, though the one thing visible were his eyes: intensely red, startlingly bright, like a bloody backdrop for carnage. They burnt like flames, tired and worn, yet they hid something only he could’ve witnessed. The hardships of man can be deadly, and even more so to those who have lived it.

It was only through your staring that you comprehended the muffled words coming from his covered mouth. “I’m sorry?” Your scarf blew the wind to bristle against your skin, pebbling with goosebumps.

“Would you take a humble stranger into your home?” his voice was rumbled and deep, smooth as a skipping stone, making your heart leap from the suddenness. “The cold had taken me off course.”

You blinked at him, wiping away the snow and sleet, before nodding hastily as you grabbed what you could. Any foolish homeowner would send him on his way with a curse defiant on their lips, but you were brought up to be kind to those, no matter what. Silently, the stranger dropped from his horse, keeping the poor animal sheltered, whilst he solemnly followed a few paces behind you.

“My grandmother always said to be kind to strangers.” You called over your shoulder, heaving the wood through to stand beside your hearth, burning brightly. “What brings you to Steunzen then? Unfinished work?”

“I was called for trouble,” he pulled the cowl off his face, revealing a mop of a brown-red beard, enveloping most of his face from its messiness. “I travelled for six weeks to get here in time.”

“Six weeks is quite impressive, I must say. We haven’t seen a stranger for quite some time.” You offered to take his coat, which he gave hesitantly, watching you put it on a nearby hook. “That was before the storm came in.”

The stranger made only a noise, a deep hum in the back of his throat. Not much of a talker, huh? You observed, resuming with what you could, hoping the snowstorm would die down to allow him to continue on his travels.

You watched as he looked over your small home, not much to keep many in, but it was quaint and homely for you and you alone. Strewn silk and wool decorated mannequins, pins marking places where cloth stayed in place. The stranger didn’t need too long to put two and two together to realise your work had been put on hiatus.

This man must’ve seen lots. You thought as an uneasiness settled when under his reserved, deadpanned stare.

“Are you in need of products, sir?”

“Products?”

“Yes—er, how should I say it? Razors, soap… a bath? Merhaps that would be good to keep yourself warm from the cold outside, hmm? You have been travelling for some time after all.” Your words are careful, careful not to offend him. He was, after all, caked head to toe in mud, something else was stuck to the leather of his waistcoat, and it did not look like just mud and dirt.

The stranger pondered your words in some time of silence before he grunted in agreement, with his lack of words. “That would be generous of you.” He finally uttered cumbersomely.

You readied yourself in prepping him the water upstairs, grateful to have some time not to be stared at by him. It had been some time since you had someone visit you, let alone stay in your home.

The water took some time to gather, but it was a great comfort as you dipped your fingers over the surface, bubbles prepared with the best-smelling oils you had. Razors you provided for an older brother you kept for safekeeping, it would’ve been useful if he decided to shave the heavy messy mop that was growing from his face.

You slipped past when you told him it was ready, and the stranger awkwardly waited outside before shuffling past with a nod your way in thanks, shutting the door with silence following. You worried for a second before a pregnant pause settled and you decided that yes, maybe he had had a bath before and didn’t need supervision.

Saints forbid if I were to see a man naked. Your cheeks rouged, thoughts unbecoming filtered in your mind but you shook them away as you settled to make a meal not now just for you but for extra.

You left him for some time whilst you prepped for dinner, occupying yourself as you scolded yourself for inviting a random stranger into your home. He could’ve been the beast that was killing people in their beds! How foolish do I need to be to not realise that?

Heavy footsteps descended down your narrow stairs, and with your back towards him, you called. “Is rabbit okay for you?”

“Yes.” His voice was sharp and roguishly deep. You were head-deep in the bowl you were mixing as you turned around. “I suppose we should be lucky we’ve gotten so much—oh wow.”

“What?” He was mid-way drying his face, water droplets cascading down from his head. You now knew his long hair wasn’t a dull dark brown, but was hidden a bright red colour, red as his eyes and brightly reflecting the flames off with the light. His scruffy beard was gone, now replaced with angular features and smooth pale skin. There was a boyish, youthful look to him once that fox’s pelt stuck to his face was gone, as if to hide his true age; now he had seemed no older than you.

“No—you look… it must be nice to have a bath again.” You averted your gaze when your eyes drifted, realising his shirt and doublet had been removed, his shirt hanging around his shoulders, walking around in his drawlers not even tied up, barefoot on your carpet.

At least he’s clean. You could only be satisfied with that, and you don’t think the stranger would’ve been grateful for being nagged at similar to his mother.

“Is there a name I can call you by?” You asked, situating to chopping more vegetables.

There was silence for a brief second, before he answered. “Dimas, just Dimas.”

You nodded as you told him your name, your life living here and what you did if he didn’t notice. You spoke and spoke for him to listen as if you had gone so long without speaking to another. All he did was listen, and give small grunts of approval he was listening, but not once, did he utter anything about himself. It was as if he was keeping it hidden on purpose, even if you asked a question, he would only give one-word answers.

There was a harsh knock on your door, startling you as you looked out the window. The wind is still howling, who could be out here? You wondered, fearing another lost stranger had come looking for shelter.

“Stay there, I’ll be right back.”

Rushing to the door, the hooded man gave no response, only watching from the corner like a gargoyle perched at the door, hunched as if ready to pounce when it finally opened.

The door slammed and shuddered against the doorframe when you pulled, a force much stronger than just the gale. There, standing before you, the wrinkled kind smile of your neighbour you’d known since you were little.

The old woman carried nothing to keep her against the cold, nor did she look affected by it, rather, she stood as if it had been the height of summer, dressed simply in a shift white dress, ready for bed. The townspeople whispered and gossiped, telling one another she was slowly losing her mind.

You stared back at her owlishly, ready to usher her either back to hers or through your door. “Ms Beckett, you shouldn’t be out here in this weather—where is your son?”

“My son?” She was still smiling when she asked, though there was a sinister nature to how she sang it. “Oh, the fool went to bed, it’s a surprise I kept him around for so long.”

You looked back behind her, to her house, nothing out of the usual stood in its path, though the door swung open back and forth with the force of the wind, dark and desolate stood the inside.

“Tomir, is here hurt? Must I go get the doctor?” Prepared to run over, you were ready to brace for the storm.

“No, that won’t be necessary. He’s been dead for some time.” She said matter-of-factly.

You hadn’t had one foot out the door before something in your mind was telling you, screaming at you to not leave your home. You stared at the old, frail woman in front of you, eyes in horror. “He… he’s—”

“Yes, oh yes, he’s fucking dead, finally. I popped his head clean off his fat body, squishing it like a melon, ripe and tasty. Oh, by the Saints was he delicious. I couldn’t help it, how delicious he was.” She swayed with the blizzard as if entranced, her demeanour and words as twisted as the Hells themselves.

Her eyes never left yours as she continued sweetly. “And when those little flames to your lovely home die down and the cold settles in your bones, I will come for you and bash your pretty fucking head in just like his, and every other fucking piece of shit in this shitty town-”

You didn’t know if it was your conscience that was pulling you back or the harsh current of the air, but there was a strong force on the back of your scarf, pulling you back and away from the door. Appearing as a ghost once again, the red-headed stranger was striding out in strident steps.

From his open palms, you watched as a ball of molten flame appeared, bright and burning as if he had picked up some from the flames of the fireplace, lifelike and smouldering. He was muttering something close to it, and as soon as he spoke the words, the ball of flame flickered with more life, the ball appearing bigger, stronger, before-

With a grunt, he threw it with a long throw, and you watched it land not far at the feet of Ms Beckett. The flames licked up the hem of her nightdress, and soon enough, it was spreading upwards, faster and brighter.

Before your eyes, the flame burst and she was engulfed from her bare feet up to her chest, her screams were silent as she stood in her spot, eyes aflame.

“What are you doing?” You screeched, grabbing at his hands in anger, confusion and fear for witnessing a murder. But when you looked back to the old woman crumpling to the ground, the flame begin to die down and cinder, did you realise her skin had turned to look like leather.

Her body fell like a piece of sheetrock, limbs thrown around her legs, twitching and groaning. Her body was bare, an unpleasant sight as you watched in horror as her legs and arms snapped up in awkward and broken positions, cracking not in the right place, groans and moans leaving her mouth.

Her body grew in size, her leathery skin grew dark to appear greyish-purple, and spikes sprout from her back as her ribs broke. In your vision, appeared something horrific, one from the Hellish grounds.

You didn’t have time to gawk and be frozen, moving not on your own as you were dragged into your home in time to see Ms Beckett’s back snap and curl, a vicious cry screeching into the darkening sky.

“She… how-” Your words were dry in your throat, and you found yourself being sat by the fireplace, instructed by Dimas to stay away from the windows, the same ones he covered with the curtains.

“She is not the woman you once knew. It was never her.” He was moving around you in a blur, moving with not knowing what he was picking up or using.

You stared back up at him, tears spilling down your cheeks. “What… what did you do to her?”

“I spoke in the tone of the Elders. Used to banish the tarnished soul from the body they’re using as a vessel to keep them grounded.” Dimas explained, and you witnessed him pull from his back a sword.

It sung when he unsheathed it, the metal was bronzed and long, humming with life drawn from who knew what but only the Saints. Dimas turned back to you one final time, eyes burning with determination.

“Keep that flame burning, no matter what.” With that, his fiery red flaming hair was the last thing you saw before he stormed out the front door, rushing with a cry as screams followed.

You clung to yourself for comfort, trying to keep an eye on the flames as you could only hear the sounds of screeches and metal clanging, sharp and ear-deafening.

It was hard to not see what was happening with the curtains drawn, you could only listen. The creature once your neighbour cast a shadow against the window, large and hunched, spiked and possessing a look of slime, grabbed another by their throat and with a yank, its shadow grew large, growing bigger in seconds before the sound of glass breaking brought a scream to leave your lips.

Dimas flew back inside through your now broken window, following with a claw, spindly fingers, trying to grab for him by the throat as he swung wildly back and forth with his sword. He got two swings in, black blood pooling as the creature cried once more, dropping the redhead to the ground as he crumpled like a ragdoll momentarily.

You found yourself crawling in an attempt to grab him to pull him back, but he noticed you approaching, eyes turning back to look at you, screaming, “Get back from the window!”

You obeyed, looking back and forth to the window and source of heat in the room, with no sight of the creature anymore. “Where is she?”

A large thump drew both your heads to look up suddenly, large and making the floorboards churn and creak. You looked back at one another, fear slicing through your body like a chill. “By the Saints.”

“Get behind me.” He grabbed you rougher than intended, pulling you behind him as you gingerly held onto the back of his shirt, staring around and everywhere at once, trying to figure out where she was. You caught the scent of the oils you dropped into the bath for him: elderflower and chamomile – it worked great in soothing you, trusting the man in front of you.

The sounds above shifted with the creature moving inch by inch, every second ticking by dragging. The sluggish movements finally stopped right above your head, and silence followed.

Dimas moved to hold his position, whilst you waited in dreaded doom, eyes casting to look over in time to realise why the room was suddenly becoming cooler.

The hearth was perishing with its flame diminishing.

Suddenly, with a cry, the floorboards above cracked and exploded open with a rush, time moving slowly as you and Dimas were separated, falling different ways to the ground, avoiding splintering wood flying around your head.

You felt the splinters get caught in your arms and legs, pricking as if charring you from a fire. You screamed out, catching a glimpse of the beast in front of you. It moved as if it had no bones, his lower body it dragged with its many gangling arms. The head looked like a human skull, though it looked like it was melting like the rest of its body, skin blistering and burnt from the flames that caught it.

Whatever it was, it was staring right at you, its sights set on you and only you.

You scampered back on the floor, moving as quick as you could before your back hit the wall to the door, watching as it dragged its body towards you. You watched with wide eyes, its skull-like head opened its mouth, bigger and bigger, needle-like teeth protruding from its jaw as if ready to swallow you whole.

You shut your eyes tightly, giving a prayer to the Saints that your death would be quick. But instead, it did not give a cry or the pain followed. For instead, you heard the sound of metal, burning as it stuck into something. The creature gave a long cry and when you opened your eyes, Dimas was stood above it, the pointed edge of his sword stinking in its unhinged jaw. The sword point stuck out the other side, and you watched the remaining life roll out of its blank eyes, body going limp.

Pulling his bronze sword forth, black blood pooled as its crashed to the ground, quickly transforming into the same colour of its blood, a large ball of slime screeched so high-pitched that it nearly shattered your eardrums, before slipping into the cracks of your floorboards, heat returning back into your home once again.

The silence in your home was deafening, staring up at the redhead in a mixture of confusion and awe. “What… what was that?”

“A Bezkost,” Dimas replied nonchalantly, wiping the blackened blood from his sword, sheathing it back as he pulled something from his pocket, placing it down in the exact spot the creature left through. It appeared to be a silver coin, with an odd, unfamiliar symbol facing upwards. “Keep this as protection in your home always. It will drive any evils from returning.”

You sat on the floor in silence, no words forming before Dimas moved close to you, sympathy in his eyes as he offered a hand for you to take. You slapped it away, harsher than expected, answers ready to be asked with no way of saying them.

“You… You are not who you say you are,” There were tales of them from old, travelling from as far as the town built on Dwarven ruins Bolsveen, to the city of Monalin, to barren Briar. Their sights were now seen as close to the gates of your quaint town, Steunzen. Nothing came good when they appeared in one’s town, nor were the people proud to have one visit. “I can’t believe I brought a fucking Vrah into my home.”

The word was simple, yet it held the doom and fear that carried when men spoke it. Slayer.

Vrah were built like the monsters they pursued: tormented to harsh experiments, boys and girls as young as six are robbed from their mothers, never to be seen for decades or centuries, until they’re living lives as long as the earth itself.

He was no different, a monster borne amidst chaos.

“I do what I must to protect those, for the people of this town.” Dimas’ words were straightforward and he did not raise his voice once. It was alarming to see how calmly he spoke, yet his eyes held the most bitterness, the most for heartbreak and forlornness. “Steunzen was cursed with the Bezkost feasting on your neighbours for decades.”

You couldn’t wrap your head around his words, denial and stubbornness wrought in your veins. Before you registered what you were saying, the words were spat out with such malice. “We lived just fine before you showed up. All you bring is death and annihilation.”

His face broke to show he was hurt by them, but it was a sad acceptance in his eyes you saw too. He’s heard those words many times before, over and over again. All from people who were too scared to understand or to thank him. It was expected in his long life.

“Get out.” You uttered, not wanting to dare look over at him. It hurt to know you felt deceived, but you also had to remember that he saved you and everyone else in your town. Who knew if you would’ve been next to meet the fate of Ms Bennett’s son, but your anger had not melted, burning bright.

Dimas spoke your name softly, hurt present in his words and movements, skittish as if dealing with a petrified and injured animal. “I won’t say it again. Get. Out. Of. My. Home.”

The redhead looked back at you in silence, gathering his things as he silently and defeatedly moved out to leave, leaving out the front door before you could only hear the crunching of snow, his footsteps receding as he got to his horse, leaving with only you left, crying softly into the scarf that smelt of ash and decay.

[indignantlemur]

Writing process question: With a story as long and involved as Emigre, do you have a master plot plan with an idea of where things will go all the way till the end, or are you sort of making it up in sections as you go? Or somewhere in between?

Hello! I started out, some 12 years ago, with a nebulous plot idea and a bunch of characters with a broad idea for an actual story in the background. I knew where I wanted my characters to go, the big scenes I wanted to write, and I had only a vague notion about the ending.

That worked for me for the first little while, but then my computer died and I lost my vague guideline notes. After that I was completely lost and totally disheartened. Regrettably, this coincided with some very unpleasant happenings in my personal life, and ultimately I ended up stopping my writing entirely.

Since returning to writing, I've salvaged all of the plot points I can recall and I've actually sat down and written out a point-for-point roadmap. I've patched as many plot holes as I can with this roadmap, tried to account for all of the characters that have been mentioned even once, and have a very thorough accounting of what happens from now until the end of the story. This has actually been hugely helpful, and I find it a lot more productive than my old, off the cuff method of writing.

So, for example, I'll usually set up something like this:

Bulreeng Taal: Dagmar and Thelen go to the local festival. Mixed results. INCLUDE:

A. First Vrath-Thelen encounter, goes poorly ; "I just wanted to talk to her and walk her home -because I thought she was in danger- and I was an idiot. I forgot how words worked and came off like an ass." B. Differing reactions to Dagmar, nice positive feels and disappointing negative reaction C. Draw from [inspiration 1] and [inspiration 2] for the festival but keep it alien! Figure out colours/themes, traditions, lore! D. Themes of healing and moving on/letting go throughout E. Enemies-to-loves starting vibes? See if it fits. F. Dagmar and Thelen have a conversation about boundaries, Tha’an/Sannev politics, and making an effort. Establish bestie-dom! IMPORTANT SUBPLOT INFO: Plant seeds for Dagmar/Thelen, maybe Vrath/Thelen where applicable but don't break the chapter for it

2. Date with Shral! (NOTE: Same day as BULREENG TAAL.)

A. Shral and Dagmar chat; expand upon dynamic, emphasize themes of calming and settling each other. B. SHRAL LAUGHS. Great maple syrup heist, ridiculousness. C. Constellations and lore! Write up a draft of a creation story, figure out themes and tidbits. Contrast the Star Thief with the Great Maple Syrup heist? Skip if it breaks the flow. D. Dagmar's gear failure - look up details for hypothermia, cold shock, and reactions to sudden, extreme temperature drops. Make it realistic. Gear fails gradually, a little at a time, before abruptly cutting out. E. If it fits, revisit intimacy between Dagmar and Shral. Consider realistic hesitation and reasons for caution - for Dagmar especially. Work with limitations from that perspective. F. Character development point: Shral is more open during intimacy, versus closed off and stoic otherwise. Contrast important! G. Ruin an arbiter's day, drop hints about Shral, make Dagmar oblivious. INCLUDE: yellow flash, identification cards, autopilot. “What’s wrong, Esheth? You look like you’ve seen a sea spirit.” / “I think I pulled over an Am Tal operative for speeding today.” / “...Oh shit.” / “It gets worse.”

The important thing about setting up my notes this way is not to hold them up as hard and fast rules but as guidelines. Sometimes the dialogue I'd like to include doesn't quite work, or the scene progresses more organically if I skip a bit here or leave some exposition for later on.

Currently, I have the entire story mapped out until the end, with two story arcs to complete and a bunch of additional chapters as well for various bits of lead-up, lore, exposition, and development. I also have about a dozen side stories tentatively mapped out in a similar fashion, too!

Cheers, and thanks for the ask! <3

[deada55]

Room Temperature

for kloktober day 5: Abigail Appreciation Day

synopsis: meet Jane during an evening at home with her "gal pal" Abigail.

I wanted to flex my newfound female OC-building skills, so here's Jane, a gay club owner/real estate investor, whose situationship has taken a really weird turn.

“Exhaustion, huh?”

Jane grabbed the remote and nestled back into her spot on the couch without spilling a drop of wine. She pulled her hair from her eyes, then gathered it all to the right to keep it out of Abigail’s mouth before she let her head rest. She took a sip: the sangria she’d made wasn’t cold enough for her thirst. The clicks of the TV flickering between channels, then streaming services, shot through the rush of the city streets below.

“I’m not going to make you talk about it, I was just saying-“

“I’m ok talking about it, I just don’t get what you want me to say.”

Abigail flexed her upper back and sat up, leaving Jane to awkwardly lay against the warm spot in the throw pillows. “I’m going to take a lap.” Her footsteps across the shag carpet living room were silent. To get the subway-tiled greige bathroom door to close, she had to kick away a purple brush jammed full of auburn hair. When it clattered against the baseboard, Jane stood up to grab it, her leg hair prickling from a sudden chill.

She caught a look at herself in the floor-length mirror at the end of the hallway and shrunk. Tall as she was, moisturized, dressed in pajamas she loved (for their comfort AND the way her breasts poked the front forward, nipples prominent but casual and covered,) being there for Abigail was still tough. 

It wasn’t the way Jane’s wet hair made Abby gag, or the lethargy, or the nights Abigail came to work with her, watching queers the world over sweat and rejoice in strobe-lit dancefloors, just so she wouldn’t have to be alone with insomnia. It wasn’t not knowing, it wasn’t coming to accept that what had happened to Abigail was perfectly senseless and unexplainable. The press talked about Magnus’ suicide as an equal tragedy and it left the both of them speechless. In their bed, when they could share it, Jane’s adoration and relief came second to laying with only their feet touching, pulling different blankets around their shoulders. Jane thought she understood all that. She drove to the appointments, she cooked, she was patient, she didn’t press, she didn’t ask Abigail for anything, and she knew Abigail wouldn’t give it if it wasn’t necessary or requested. She’d save her energy, she’d heal in time, she kept moving. All Jane could do was wait and hope it kept her in the picture.

But she cheated. With a man. With an insanely rich and stupid man. 

They’d been trapped in a situationship for years, showing up at each other’s apartments, swapping spit after a couple fruity blended drinks, “networking”... Her Dethklok contract was her retirement fund. She’d lucked out. Jane kept buying properties, finding managers, firing people, selling properties for double what she paid for them, raising the property values in downtowns and abandoned sites of Dethklok’s concerts (rubble and ruins and broken glass.) 

She hoped she was over that damage of a lesbian worrying that a man could do her job better for the bisexual community, but it came back like a poorly aged joke in a favorite movie. Nathan Explosion, half-witted, spoiled, incoherently mumbling and screaming, might be better than her after all.

But nothing was too good for Abigail.

She came out of the bathroom with brighter eyes and her bathrobe tied. “Ok. You ready to watch ER?”

“Yeah. Want some edamame?” What was popcorn to salty, hot beans?

“I think I’m OK. Meet me at the sofa in five?”

“Always.”