#This is my first time I drew this flame boi

[danisha-tdh]

Man, I really enjoyed this goofy ghost lord-

I used to watch it as a kid, this guy is my fav childhood character. Soon I grew up, and yet still my fav.

So, umm... anyone wanna save this pic?-

[prophecyoflunarflame]

gonna start tagging my friends more often, especially on asks like this

@legendarylily @luoisalunitic

Some silly headcanon Grimm stuff for all you goobers

[ckret2]

The second dimension has burned (along with half the neighbors) and now there's a bunch of survivors stranded in Dimension Zero; which means the gods have to talk Bill into letting them leave.

Which should be easy, right? They're a bunch of gods and he's just one puny little mortal. Look how small he is.

Puny little mortal. 👍

Here have a fic.

This is part 6 of an ???8-ish??? part plot about the Axolotl meeting this friendly harmless innocent little triangle in the wake of the Euclidean Massacre and then getting repeatedly slapped in the face with all the atrocities Bill's committed. If you want to read and/or look at the pretty art on the other parts, here's one, two, three, four, and five.

####

It hadn't taken long for VENDOR to make preparations to receive another ten million-odd sentient refugees; but then, the Axolotl supposed it wouldn't, considering that THEY could pop out a planet capable of supporting quadrillions at the snap of a finger. (Somebody else's finger, presumably, since vending machines didn't have any.) The most time-consuming part had been determining which gods would be responsible for the refugee shapes currently stranded in Dimension Zero once they were rescued—for speaking for them, for finding out what they ate and supplying it, for finding new suitable 2D and 1D homes for them in dimensions with compatible laws of physics and chemistry. The Axolotl doubted the shapes themselves had been consulted on who they'd like to speak for them.

And then, THEY'd approached the unstable border barely holding the miasmic rubble of half a dozen burned universes inside Dimension Zero, and said, "I hope you're ready to come out of there."

And just like that, the barely visible, twinkling yellow light in the center of the dimension appeared at its border, as if he'd always been there.

Behind the triangle, deep in their "dream realm," the shapes that the triangle had kidnapped/rescued from the cosmic flames, living and dying and undying and unliving, were still trapped in their eternal dance party. How many of them were paying attention to the proceedings through their forced dance? Did any of them understand the negotiations the triangle was making on their behalf? 

The Axolotl was sure their "Magister Mentium" wouldn't allow anyone but himself to speak for the shapes, but VENDOR could find that out the hard way. The Axolotl didn't see any benefit to trying to warn THEM first.

And as expected, the triangle retorted—just as haughtily as VENDOR—"I'm ready to talk. Are you?" The triangle was swirling a drink in a red disposable cup as though he were aerating a fine wine, looking for all the world like he'd been waiting there for hours and VENDOR was the one late to an important meeting.

VENDOR grumbled something that the Axolotl didn't catch besides the word "attitude," and then said, with a diplomatic air that just edged into patronizing, "Well, as long as we're making progress. Come here, let's get started."

"Hmm... nah," the triangle said. "Howsabout you come over here."

VENDOR stared, THEIR camera whirring as its focus narrowed in on the triangle.  "Excuse me? You expect me to get closer to that thing?" (The Axolotl assumed THEY meant the entirety of Dimension Zero.) "Absolutely not. You're already right on the border; just go through it."

The triangle was, indeed, right on the surface of Dimension Zero, like a fleck of glitter stuck on a bubble. He swung back and forth along the dimension's cellophane skin a few times, as though weighing up the thought of peeling himself off of it; and then shrugged, lounged back against the barrier, and sipped his drink. "Naaah, don't feel like it. You come to me! Get cozy! It'll be intimate!" The triangle purred unseductively, "C'mere, big boy, lemme whisper in your... whaddaya got, microphones? An intercom? What are you, some kind of office building?"

"Of all the—! I'm a vending machine!"

"Wooow, really? You're yanking my chain!" He drew a ghostly blue chain out from the esophagus under his eye like a clown pulling a trail of handkerchiefs out of his sleeve.

"It says 'Vendor' on my face!"

"Really? I figured 'Vendor' was the name of the company renting you!"

VENDOR gasped. "You think a god can be rented—?!"

While THEY tried to find adequate words to express THEIR outrage, the triangle's chain disappeared and he squinted at the silver continent-sized logo listing VENDOR's name. "I don't know how you expect anyone to read that anyway; it's all one color," he said. "Well, they make 'em large where you're from! But okay, vending machine, get over here and lemme whisper in your coin slot."

"No!"

"Hey, big as you are, narrow as I am, I bet I could slide right in without even touching the sides!"

VENDOR shuddered hard enough to set off earthquakes on several of THEIR planets. "Is this how you speak to all your gods, mortal?" The two cops at THEIR back bristled menacingly—the crablike cop with two mushrooms for eyes clacking his claws, and the cop made of two interlocked flaming wheels spinning faster and burning higher. 

"Whoa, since when are you one of 'my' gods!" Smugly, the triangle said, "I thought I heard I'm in Lady Morgenstern's district."

Before they could come to blows without ever starting the discussion, the Axolotl called over to VENDOR, "He can't come closer. He's the only one able to keep his dimension from collapsing back into a singularity on the refugees—he has to stay in there in case emergency maintenance is needed."

"Ugh," VENDOR said. "Nevermind, stay where you are then."

With a singsong lilt to his voice, the triangle said, "If you insii-iist!" He settled back against his bubble and took a long, slow sip from his drink.

The Axolotl hated to admit it, but in spite of it all—the horror, the massacres, the cult recruitment, the dancing corpse puppets—he was starting to really like that triangle.

Along with VENDOR and THEIR unofficial police escorts—both of whom seemed content to do nothing but lurk behind THEM and look imposing—several of the gods involved with helping the refugees had assembled to observe the negotiation with the triangle. The storm cloud currently in charge of the Apocalyptic Threat Task Force's operations—who had less to do now that most of the cosmic fires were under control—was drizzling over several other apoc agents, and the tornado in which it carried its personal effects twisted back and forth in a figure 8 beneath the cloud, as though it were pacing in place. At some point, the barricade keeping the reporters from getting too close to the scene had been breached, and now dozens of them—messenger gods, gods of wisdom, gods of truth, twin-headed deities of secrets and revelations—circled the scene with enormous eyes and sharp ears and pens and recorders and cameras.

Until it burned down, the Axolotl had always called Dimension 2 Delta a "wall," because that was always how he was oriented to it during his daily commute—flying home with the dimension to his side—and the now-bloated Dimension Zero where the wall used to be was oriented the same way; but up and down and left and right were arbitrary directions in space when you could just rotate and change them. VENDOR and THEIR accompanying gods had reoriented themselves in relation to Dimension Zero so that it was like a floor rather than a wall—so that they were looking down on the triangle, and forcing him to look up at them.

Even the Axolotl had unconsciously reoriented himself so that he matched the other gods. He couldn't pretend he had any business in this discussion as anything but an uninvited witness; he'd been flying in nervous circles around the group, only just barely within the perimeter established by the reporters, gazing down into Dimension Zero as he did. Even though the triangle was staring straight at VENDOR, his slitted eye felt like one of those trick paintings that gave off the impression that, no matter where the Axolotl was, it was looking directly at him.

He ended up circling near the Time Giant, who was also avoiding the conversation as she worked on her official report on what she'd found in Dimension Zero. As he passed, she absentmindedly patted his head between his frills. Her glove was coated in grease, heavy metals shavings, and stardust.

The triangle said, "So pitch me your big evacuation plan."

"You don't need to worry about the details; it's our responsibility to handle the situation, not a mortal's."

"Humor me," the triangle commanded.

VENDOR valiantly bit back the urge to say something else snide. "Fine. It's a simple process, at least for you. First: you'll all be temporarily relocated to a safe world, where you'll be taken care of. Somewhere... suited to your species's anatomy, as best as we can manage on such short notice." As THEY spoke, THEY began idly flipping through THEIR worlds, juggling them between THEIR coils, apparently mentally measuring up the triangle before THEM against THEIR available selection. The Axolotl had seen THEM do that earlier. A nervous habit, he supposed. The god from the urban planning committee deciding where a few more residents could be moved.

A few of the partiers far below the triangle had apparently noticed the conversation, and had broken off from the party to fly a little closer to the barrier, eavesdropping on the discussion. There was a quiet flurry of excitement at the suggestion they might be getting a planet. (They had so little in there, didn't they?)

"Second: we clean out the rubble that fell beneath the multiverse and ensure everything is stabilized again. Third: we set off Big Bangs to put up new 1D pillars and 2D walls where the old ones used to be, and repair all the standing walls and pillars that were damaged in the fires. We'll likely recycle much of the rubble into the new dimensions. There, that's nice, isn't it? Your new dimension could be made out of what's left of your old one." THEY talked like an adult who didn't like kids trying to persuade a child that this new toy was just as good as one that had been accidentally thrown away.

As VENDOR spoke, the triangle slid off his tall black hat and held it in his hands, looking down at it. No, the Axolotl realized, not at it—into it. He was looking at his speck. The little pearl that contained the scant remains of his universe.

"Fourth: all the refugees are returned to their native dimensions or their replacements."

The grip on the brim of his hat tightened. The triangle looked up sharply.

A few of the shapes who'd broken off from the dance party to eavesdrop looked dubious of this news—the Axolotl noted the line that the triangle had been dancing with earlier among them—but the vast majority looked ecstatic. One of them—a nearly square blue rhombus—rushed back to spread the news to the rest of the party.

But he stopped without reaching them when the triangle demanded, "You think you're going to split us up?"

"Of course! You can't possibly be placed together long term—you're all from so many different dimensions that your molecules probably don't even operate on the same laws of physics." VENDOR pointedly added, "Besides, I know some gods are very eager to have their people returned to them." The Vitruvian Mandala must have talked to THEM about how the triangle got his new followers. (How many of the listening shapes were eager to return to their gods?)

The triangle stared at VENDOR, eye wide and expression unreadable; but for a split second, an inferno of absolute fury raged behind that blank white sclera. "What about me, genius? You don't have a god to foist me off on."

"No, I suppose not," VENDOR sighed. "Naturally, as the last surviving soul from your dimension, you'll be afforded a few more special protections than the others." (The triangle didn't protest the accusation that he was the last.) "Eventually, you'll have the option to move into an afterlife in whatever replaces Dimension 2 Delta, but until then, you'll have to be housed elsewhere, just like the other refugees. Did you have diplomatic relations with any of the neighboring dimensions?"

He said tersely, "No."

(Then that settled the question for good, the Axolotl thought: none of the other shapes came from his home dimension; and he really hadn't known the shapes he'd kidnapped from other universes and called "his" people.)

"Of course not. That will complicate finding another dimension to move you to, but I'm sure he'll help you with that part."

VENDOR tilted in the Axolotl's general direction. Terrific, THEY'd progressed from accusing him of being a stranger's lawyer to volunteering his services.

"Of course, you should expect to be judged and sentenced by the standards of whatever afterlife you join—"

The Axolotl cut in loudly, "I think he'd rather remain a wandering ghost." It was clear the triangle still saw himself as alive. (Maybe, to his species's culture, he was still alive. If the Axolotl had learned anything during his service as a psychopomp, it was that death was as much cultural as it was physical. Most species saw a soul shedding its body as the end, but others saw it the same way as a butterfly shedding a cocoon.)

VENDOR shuddered in distaste. "I can't believe this district still hasn't outlawed letting unruly expired mortals meander around."

Of course THEY were anti-wandering ghosts. The Axolotl didn't know what else he expected. He made a mental note to throw a campaign donation at Municipalitron before the next election. "Yes, it is still legal, and technically isn't illegal on a district-wide level anywhere in the multiverse—wandering ghost legislation is decided at the dimensional level—"

"You can explain his options after he's come out here into civilized space," VENDOR said sourly. "The bottom line is, everyone gets sent home. And that's the plan! All right?" THEY glowered down at the triangle.

With a flick of his wrist, the triangle's hat poofed out of his hand and reappeared above his top angle. "If you want my opinion—"

"There is nothing I have ever wanted less."

"—you're wasting a lot of time creating a worse solution to a problem you invented! Splitting us up, gentrifying our dream realm, forcing us back under gods and locking us up in afterlives? Yikes! We're not refugees, we're liberated—for the first time in our lives! We don't need to be 'sent home'! We're already living in our home!" The triangle put unnecessary emphasis on the word living.

The excitement slowly drained from the eyes of the listening shapes. They looked so tired. How many were already dead? How many wanted to rest in an afterlife?

The triangle said, "Look, I can save you a lot of time on red tape and bureaucracy." He gestured back into Dimension Zero. "Just give us an empty spot outside reality's butthole, we'll pack up our dream realm and fly it there ourselves, and then everything's hunky-dory!"

"Pack your— Fly it—?!" VENDOR scoffed in disbelief. "You must be mad. It would most certainly not be 'hunky-dory'! Your little organic mortal mind can't even grasp how much more difficult, dangerous, and inefficient it would be to relocate and rebuild this wreck instead of simply recycling what's left of it and setting off a new Big Bang. Is it even possible?" THEY'd directed this last question to the Time Giant.

"Hm?" It took her a moment to drag herself from her paperwork and process the question. "Hell, I hope not. It's the worst idea I've ever heard."

"See? I don't even know which district's jurisdiction such a ridiculous project would fall under!"

"So what's the problem?" the triangle asked. "It probably won't be yours! You can foist the paperwork off on some other sucker!" (The Axolotl choked back a laugh.)

"It would circle back around to the urban planning committee eventually," VENDOR said wearily. "We simply don't have room for a—" They turned to the Time Giant again. "How big is this dimension, anyway?"

"'Bout twenty percent bigger than D-2Δ was."

"Oh, what a disaster. Two dimensional?"

"Technically, zero, but it behaves like it has five or six."

"Absolutely barbaric." VENDOR rounded on the triangle. "We don't even have zoning for an oversized zero dimensional property shaped like a six dimensional property! Every last Planck length in the multiverse is already in use; this is a planned community— Are you paying attention?! Don't you roll your eye at me!"

He was indeed rolling his eye as he took a long, slow sip from his red plastic cup. He held up a finger to signal VENDOR to wait until he'd finished. This wasn't doing the triangle any favors, but the Axolotl had the sneaking suspicion he'd decided to ignore VENDOR because VENDOR had started to ignore him.

"Of all the—you're the one who wanted to waste my time finding out how your evacuation will work! You could at least listen!"

VENDOR still thought THEY were giving instructions to a mortal who didn't quite yet fully understand that it was his responsibility to simply obey, and the triangle still thought this was a parley between equals in which he had the option to say no. And, the Axolotl realized, they were both wrong.

A single reality could simultaneously operate on so many vastly different scales. The Axolotl could still hear the triangle saying that he felt every dying thing that fell into Dimension Zero; he could still see the triangle's gaze unfocused from pain and the distraction of holding up a dimension on his back. While a minor local elected official was arguing about zoning law, a mortal was suffering a trillion trillion deaths.

And on a smaller scale even than that, a trillion trillion lives were suffering death—once.

The Axolotl wondered—what justice was there in the fact that the most trivial concerns of gods were infinitely vaster than the worst horror a mortal could ever endure?

(But what justice was there in the fact that one mortal could force so many more to endure the horror with him?)

The triangle finished his drink and sighed, "Yeah, yeah, I'm listening." Like a bored child fidgeting in his seat, the triangle peeled off Dimension Zero's skin and swung backward into his dream realm, so that he was dangling over his eternal party with the soles of his feet still stuck to the bubble. "And all I'm getting out of your yammering is that you want to destroy my dimension because you don't want to deal with a little red tape!" (He stared at the eavesdropping shapes. They flinched and retreated to the party.)

"No," VENDOR said venomously, "I'm saying we can't move the rubble pile you're calling a dimension, because it would require knocking down half of existence to restructure it around your whims."

"Great! Which half do you want me to knock down?"

The Axolotl could faintly hear the click of VENDOR's camera shutter closing and reopening in horror.

The storm cloud had been brooding quietly back with the other apoc agents while VENDOR and the triangle attempted to negotiate, but now it let out a thunderous rumble as it swept like a cold front into the discussion. "Out of the question. The whole point of clearing out the rubble is to prevent any more damage to the surrounding dimensions. We're not going with a plan that causes more apocalypses."

"Oh, for— No one's talking to you, Fog Brain!" The triangle tried to wave the cloud off. "Who do you think you are, the Killjoy God of Stopping Apocalypses?"

The cloud's tornado swerved down to hold its Apocalyptic Threat Task Force badge where the triangle could see. "Yeah, actually."

He gave it a dirty look. "Okay, Officer Fun Police. Here's the deal: me, my people, and my miasma in here are a package deal. I'm not going a-ny-where without them, and they're not going anywhere without me. So if you don't want us knocking the stilts out from under your palafito, then you'd better make an offer better than Coin Slot's little refugee plan!"

"Your people? What gives you the right to speak for them!" The storm's tornado jumped in intensity from F0 to F2, and only grew faster the more it spoke. Through its clouds, the eye of the storm glared down at the triangle. "You mean the people I've watched die all day thanks to your attempts to kidnap them from their own dimensions?!"

The triangle glared right back up into the eye without flinching. "Yeah, and my attempts to rescue them from our world would have a lot better success rate if you incompetent losers didn't keep getting in my way!"

In a startling display of unity, the storm cloud and VENDOR both started shouting at the triangle, one after the other: "Rescued?! The ATTF was already rescuing them! We're professionals! You're the one mucking up all our operations—"

"And you're the only reason these mortals need rescuing! You caused this crisis in the first place; you spread all the fires—"

"—and mangled or cremated half the people you're trying to save—!"

"You're forcing millions of people to float aimlessly in an unstable, barren void! Those mortals belong out here, under divine supervision, on a real world!" VENDOR punctuated this with a rev of THEIR motors and THEIR coils half twisting forward, like THEY were tempted to launch THEIR whole stock of worlds at the triangle in anger. "I am a vending machine full of planets. Any one of these would be better than your colorful cesspit! What are you offering?!"

The triangle was glowing red-hot, trembling with rage. "Everything they were ever told they can't have," he said. "Freedom. Immortality. Utopia!" With a noise like a whip crack, the triangle snapped his arm down (up?) to point at his eternal dance party; and suddenly his eternal party was right there, and he was in the middle of it. "This is what I'm offering! Isn't that right, gang?! We're keeping this party going forever!" A loud roar of voices cheered in response. (It was, the Axolotl thought, nowhere near ten million voices. The shapes that had been eavesdropping earlier had blended back into the crowd. The only one the Axolotl could still see was the blue rhombus, glaring resentfully at the triangle.)

With an impressive synthesized approximation of the sound of speaking through gritted teeth, VENDOR said, "Why would you want to squat in the rubble of half a dozen destroyed dimensions when we could recycle it into a new dimension?!"

In truth, the Axolotl was wondering the same thing. He could understand if the triangle were just trying to maintain his independence from an overbearing god—the triangle clearly liked being in charge—but then why not offer the rubble from Dimension 2 Delta in exchange for the right to rule the new dimension that would be made with it? VENDOR would never agree to that deal—not that THEY even had the authority to agree—but that hadn't stopped the triangle from making even less likely demands. Or why not trade the rubble to the gods in exchange for an equivalently-sized stable universe to throw his unending party in? Hell, why not say he'd take a newly-vended planet as long as he could rule it without any unwanted divine intervention? His people didn't want to live like this. Why did he?

With great dignity, the triangle straightened out his hat, casually swirled his drink, and floated up off the surface of the bubble—and the Axolotl realized that the triangle hadn't been standing "upside down." All along, he'd been doing the same thing VENDOR had done to him: repositioning himself so that the surface of the barrier between the zeroth dimension and the third dimension was his floor, so that the gods he spoke to were beneath his very feet.

He didn't answer VENDOR's question. Instead, he asked his own: "Why would I want to be a dead freak in somebody else's universe, when I can be an eternal god in mine?"

So many things—his insistence that he was alive, his contempt for the gods that tried to assert their superiority, his determination to repair his own reality, his absolute control over his people—suddenly made sense.

VENDOR leaned away from the triangle. "You? Think you? Get to be? A god?" THEIR two police escorts, who so far had managed to stay silent, burst out in mocking laughter.

The triangle stared imperiously down upon VENDOR, THEIR hundreds of worlds, and the countless gods watching. "It seems to me like I already am one!"  Arms outstretched, he gestured around himself at Dimension Zero, at his eternal party. A cacophony of every song at once poured out into the higher dimensions and all lights shone on him like a strobing halo. "I created a universe by myself! A dream realm where ideas and reality overlap, where a thought's just as powerful as an act! A dimension of color and life that's free from all laws and restrictions—even gravity! If that's not godly, I don't know what is!"

Honestly, the Axolotl thought it was kind of impressive that the triangle had spun his failure to get the gravity working into a perk.

The crablike cop hooted with laughter and said to his partner, "How stupid does he think we are?"

"You're no creator god," VENDOR said. "Everything you have fell in from Dimension 2 Delta and its neighboring dimensions—we know that much."

The triangle was silent for a long moment; and the Axolotl got the sense, by the look in his eye, that he was choosing his next words very carefully. Like a creator god preparing to speak a reality into existence.

Voice low and hard, he said, "You don't think it got in here all by itself, do you?"

VENDOR gasped sharply. THEY weren't the only one. A crackle of thunder and a low rumble filled the still space—followed by hundreds of tiny, twinkling lights from the outer ring of gods, the flashes of the reporters' cameras. Recording the mortal who claimed he'd killed an entire universe.

The triangle, glaring defiantly down at them all, seemed to glow a little brighter with each flash.

No. Not that curious, cocky, bright-eyed little triangle. The Axolotl couldn't believe he had wanted to destroy his own dimension.

But... he did believe the triangle had done it. On some level, he'd known.

The storm cloud cut in, "Hold on, hold on, hold on." It seemed to be the only one who could find something to say. The Axolotl was sure it had known, too; it had only been waiting for confirmation. Making a valiant effort to rein in its rage, it retrieved its interview and asked, "How did you destroy your dimension?"

The triangle's hands curled into fists, crushing his cup. "I didn't say I destroyed it. I renovated." He said it so haughtily. He said it like he needed to believe it himself. "It was close-minded and claustrophobic! It needed a lotta work! The whole thing ended up being a teardown! A place like that, the only thing you can do is—burn it down and start over."

The Axolotl could hear the triangle's voice catch and fall quieter as he regretted his choice of words before he'd even finished saying them. His heart broke. No. He knew the triangle didn't mean that. He was torturing himself to keep as many of his people alive as possible, he couldn't have meant to destroy all those lives—

The triangle raised his voice again—not quite shouting, but straining to project his words, to ensure everyone, everyone, would hear him. (Over the next trillion years, the Axolotl would come to think of this as the default way he spoke.) "We're building a better world here. One where we're all finally free. Isn't that right?!" His undead, undying revelers cheered and applauded. This speech wasn't for the storm cloud; it was for his followers and the reporters. He was putting on a performance. What a show it must be through the cameras: the lights, the music, the proud glittering shape in the center of it all.

The storm demanded, "How did you do it?"

The triangle hesitated again, searching again for the right words, the right story. His eye darted to the side, toward his listening people. Like a bad radio signal, the dance music was infected by a rising static hiss.

But before he could come up with an answer, VENDOR snarled, "It doesn't matter; that's all we need to know! We don't need to wait for him to enter the third dimension anymore—" THEY turned to the cops, "—arrest him now!"

The triangle flinched. "Wait, what?" He glared accusatorially between the Axolotl and the Time Giant. "You! You set me up!"

"Did not," the Time Giant muttered resentfully. "I gave the ATTF my verbal report. What they do with the report ain't my problem."

The Axolotl didn't even respond to the accusation. Operating on pure reflex, he'd already dove in front of the triangle, gills flared and curled forward, putting himself in between the accused criminal and the gods of punishment.

"You can't be serious!" His gaze darted in disbelief between the gods he'd spoken to the most throughout this whole wretched incident. The Time Giant's jaw was set hard and she kept her face turned from the scene as she continued to work on her official report; the storm's cloud had darkened and its rain fell heavy and cold; and VENDOR—well, VENDOR still looked like a vending machine, but the Axolotl had no doubt THEY were determined to carry this through. "He's a refugee seeking asylum! You should be worried about getting him and his people to safety!"

The Axolotl felt the triangle's eye on him like a laser. "They can't do that." (He had only heard that nervous waver in the triangle's voice once before. Yesterday—before Dimension 2 Delta burned—the very first time the triangle had ever met a higher dimensional being.)

"We can." VENDOR's camera focused on the Axolotl. "Unless you have any legal objections."

He nearly demanded THEY explain what legal grounds THEY possibly had to arrest him—and then realized what an idiot he was for not seeing this coming. He'd been so blinded by the fact that he was sure the triangle hadn't meant it that he hadn't registered what the triangle had done.

The triangle had burned down multiple dimensions by ignorantly messing with the fabric of reality. He'd selectively targeted entire populated worlds—and accident or not, he'd incinerated them. On the immense scale of crimes this triangle was operating on, personally kidnapping millions and slaughtering billions who got caught in the crossfire was the least of his sins. VENDOR didn't want the triangle shuffled into some afterlife to get him out of the way; THEY wanted him damned.

But the gods had divine laws, and how they judged the mortals and sentenced the dead were among the most complex branches. What you could punish the living for, and what you had to wait until their death to punish; whether a ghost could be allowed to wander; where a psychopomp could escort the dead; when and how gods could reincarnate a soul... Rules, rules, rules.

And one rule was that a god couldn't legally arrest a mortal outside their own jurisdiction, under any circumstances, without permission from a god who did have jurisdiction.

Any gods who once held jurisdiction over the souls born in 2Δ were dead. The only gods who could arrest the triangle now were whatever gods had authority over the territory he was in.

No one and nothing had ever had authority over Dimension Zero.

The triangle had stumbled his way into the only pure neutral territory in all of reality. He could not be legally arrested.

That was why VENDOR had been so eager to get the triangle out of Dimension Zero; that was why THEY were so impatient with his protests and questions. This was all just a ploy to lure out the triangle so they could make an arrest that neither the witnessing reporters nor the neighborhood's most stubborn afterlife lawyer could legally challenge.

However... those were the rules for arresting a mortal. Arresting a god was different.

Any gods that operated on a higher than galactic level agreed that nothing mattered more than preventing divine threats to the multiverse, by any means necessary. Whoever could make the arrest should make the arrest, and they'd figure out who was in charge of the troublemaker later. Jurisdiction was irrelevant when it came to stopping a god who committed crimes against reality.

Which was exactly what the little triangle had claimed to be.

"Well?" VENDOR pressed. "Any problems, attorney?"

The triangle had the kind of eye that gave off the impression that he was always looking at you, no matter where you were; but now it felt different. Now, the Axolotl truly felt the triangle was looking��directly at him.

It wasn't one of those creepy being-stared-at feelings that made his back prickle and his gills curl. It was more like the sensation he got in court whenever one of his clients was looking to him for support and protection, when the Axolotl was the only thing standing between them and death, damnation, or worse.

The Axolotl wracked his brain for any reason to object to an arrest. He was sure, he was sure, that the triangle didn't want to hurt anyone... but the Axolotl's opinions weren't relevant. The triangle was a self-professed god who had confessed to deliberately destroying his home dimension. He was more than an active threat to existence itself—the fires were still burning.

But... "You'll have to prove he's a god." Which was more difficult than one might think. A legally airtight definition of what was and wasn't a god was notoriously elusive. "If you cross dimensional lines to arrest him and then can't prove he's divine, any decent defense attorney could get the whole case thrown out." Which was maybe a slight exaggeration—any decent prosecutor wouldn't let a mortal who'd destroyed a dimension go unpunished, even if they had to hunt him down with their own scythes and fangs—but the Axolotl didn't see any judges here to call him out.

"Pinky's right," the crablike cop said—and only then did the Axolotl realize he and the flaming wheels hadn't budged an inch at VENDOR's order. "Shoulda waited for him to come out."

VENDOR spluttered indignantly. "But you don't have to prove he's a god to arrest him, do you? Just—just that you had reason to think he's one? Isn't that how it works?"

The crab's mushroom eyestalks and the wheels' hundred eyes exchanged a look. The wheels said flatly, "If we claim we had probable cause to believe the mortal's a god because the mortal himself said so, we'll be laughed out of the courtroom."

"Hey! Are you calling me a liar?!" The triangle flared red hot. Some of his shapes had stopped dancing again to stare at the argument. "I made a dimension! If that's not godly, what is?!" Frustrated, he gestured again at the party behind him and the dream realm beyond. (One of the shapes who'd stopped dancing waved.) "Were you listening to that part of the conversation? Or didja get too many retinas to leave room for a cochlea or two, Eyeballs?! How about you, Pinchers; is that gunk growing out of your shell clogging your ears?"

The rings' flames blazed a bit hotter as he seethed, but the crab's two mushrooms reeled back in offense and he clacked his claws furiously. "Those are my brains, you idiot!"

"No kidding?"

The Axolotl swore he could see the malice in the triangle's eye as he thought of ways to abuse this new information. Before the triangle had a chance, the Axolotl dove in the way of his line of sight to the cop and hissed, "Shh! Whose side are you on?" Handing his future prosecutor ammo was bad enough; he had to insult the cops too?

"I could ask you the same thing! All I hear you doing is telling them a better way to arrest me!"

"You don't want to be charged as a god—!" 

"Maybe I do!" Growing more heated, he shouted, "Nobody could do this by accident! It's impossible! Obviously I meant to do it, how could it have happened if I didn't mean to do it?!"

Oh, the Axolotl thought. Oh. Oh, no. This poor child.

The crab laughed loudly. "This pipsqueak's funny!"

"You're a mere mortal with some magic tricks," the flaming wheels said coldly. "You probably have a superpower or two. That doesn't makes you a god."

The triangle's gaze locked onto the cops like a prison searchlight on two escaping convicts. His eye darted between them, sizing them up like a predator choosing the easier prey; and then focused on the crab. "You want me to prove it?" He shoved his crumpled red cup over to one of his nearby followers. (In his rage, he didn't seem to notice that he'd shoved the cup into his follower, in the middle of his 2D organs.) The triangle pointed at the crab. "Come over here! I'll show you!"

"He thinks we're stupid," the rings said.

The crab jabbed a claw toward Dimension Zero. "If you were a god, I wouldn't have to come over there for you to pull whatever dumb trick you're trying! You'd be omnipotent enough to just do it!"

"If you're so sure I'm lying, you've got nothing to lose! So what are you waiting for?! Sounds to me like you're scared! Afraid a little mortal pipsqueak might hurt you if you step into his domain? You scared of pipsqueaks, Pinchers?"

The crab clacked his claws angrily. The two wheels' fires flared up, their furious eyes as bright as stars, glaring at the triangle with the force of a hundred steel-melting sunbeams. The crab growled, "Of course I'm not scared of a stupid little—"

"Then what're you waiting for, fungus brain?!" The triangle didn't even squint under the burning ring lights. If anything, he seemed to soak up the light, growing brighter by the second. He slung an arm around a nearby trapezoid (who started as the Magister Mentium somehow gripped her through a dimension she couldn't see) and said, "Everyone here knows that you're a big, scared coward who's too afraid to face down one puny little mortal. You big chicken!" He turned to shout to his imprisoned people, "Hey everyone, look at the big chicken who's scared of a mortal! What a loser!" 

"Fine! I'll show you what a god is—" Claws crashing together like thunderclaps, the crab stormed up to the border of Dimension Zero.

The second the crab stuck his face through, the triangle twirled upside down.

The entire dimension turned upside down with him. It ground against the nearest walls as it laboriously rotated; all of reality shuddered.

The shapes trapped inside shrieked.

The crab wobbled back.

His face was upside-down, the stalks of his mushrooms were tied in a bow, his claws were attached backwards, and his shell was unevenly coated in purple glitter glue. "Well," he said woozily, "I think that triangle's a god."

"Now will you arrest him?" VENDOR demanded.

The flaming wheels shook themselves out of their shock. "Fall back, kid," they said sharply. "I'll handle this."

"Sure, sarge." Trying to get his mushrooms untied, the crab cop stumbled sideways back toward Dimension Zero. One of the other cop's wheels hooked around one of his legs and tugged. The crab stumbled sideways the other direction. 

And then the wheels turned their full attention on the triangle. "It's too bad hubris isn't illegal here." The rings grew, and grew, and grew hotter, and hotter; until, at last, they were vast enough that one ring could have held a supermassive black hole in its circumference. "YOU COULD HAVE LEARNED THE EASY WAY WHY IT'S A BAD IDEA."

The wheels whirled like some eldritch cross between saw blades and pulsars as they approached the border of Dimension Zero. Their countless eyes opened and shut in hypnotic patterns, red and blue, red and blue. The reporters' camera flashes petered out; the ones taking notes into recorders fell silent. The power that poured off the whirling flaming wheels, both physical and psychological, was suffocating. Even as ancient and powerful as the Axolotl was, and even though the display wasn't aimed at him, he could feel it like a pressure on his lungs—feel it like swimming through water without oxygen. This was the sort of god that could incinerate a million worlds with one rotation. 

But the triangle only momentarily flinched back at the red and blue flashing; and then the display made the triangle stronger. Soaking in the heat, the light—glowing brighter, hotter, redder, angrier. "You wanna get me?!" 

The empty space around him burst into flames—pale, blue flames, reeking of burning hydrogen. Several of the more lucid nearby dancers shrieked in terror.

The helpless shapes burned up. But the triangle simply burned.

He grew in size, larger than the Axolotl, than VENDOR, than even the flaming wheels—larger than all the assembled gods combined—filled the entire visible cosmos with light. "Then come get me!"

Lightning and his knuckles both cracked menacingly; and the sound echoed across a dozen fracturing realities. Gouts of fire erupted from Dimension Zero, shooting from the second dimensions into the thirds. The gods froze as the fabric of reality vibrated with trillions of trillions of voices screaming in agony as they were incinerated.

The triangle's eye was wider than the twin rings' circumference. Dimension Zero pulled taut around him. Dimension Zero was triangular. And though it hadn't moved, it was clear that the gods were no longer looking down at Dimension Zero; they were staring up into it.

The twirling rings skidded to a stop as they realized that, in all their million-world-incinerating wrath, they were a matchstick next to this volcano. "Whoa—whoa! Stay back—"

"Whatsamatter, handcuffs? Can't handle the HEAT?!" The nauseating, kaleidoscopic miasma behind where the wall used to be lurched toward them. Every god flinched back as the formless color feigned grabbing at them. "Shoulda thought of that before you stepped into my kitchen! I'll boil you alive!" The triangle let out a terrible, hysterical, shrieking laugh that echoed between the stars. 

Columns of roiling colors, like amoeba-like feelers the size of a galaxy, bulged out of Dimension Zero, curled around the edges of the crumbling husks of the neighboring dimensions—2 Gamma, 2 Epsilon, 2 Zeta—and reached out, looking for somewhere else to get purchase. Whatever had filled Dimension Zero appeared to be trying to crawl upside-down out of its prison and into the third dimension. In all his existence, in his worst nightmares, the Axolotl had never seen anything like it before. Oozing reality dripped lava-lamplike from Dimension Zero, lurching closer to the shaking twin-ringed cop, preparing to crush them like two pieces of cereal in a formless palm—

And then existence itself let out a howl of pain.

Everyone froze.

The triangle shrank back to his usual size with the speed of a balloon popping. His wide eye darted around nervously. "What."

The multiverse was still. The triangle shook it off, pushed against the border of Dimension Zero, and tried again to squeeze his dream realm out of the bloated singularity into the multiverse—and reality screamed again, like the sound of solid metal being twisted and ripped in half. Its echoes continued long after the triangle froze again—followed up by an alarming series of creaks and punctuated by a CRACK that made everyone assembled flinch.

The Time Giant swore and muttered, "That sounded like something important."

The triangle jerked back again, and only then seemed to notice that he was still burning. He looked at his hands, coated in pale blue flames.

The Axolotl couldn't see the trapezoid the triangle had had his arm around a moment ago.

The apoc agents were already a flurry of activity. The storm cloud—so terrified that it had started hailing—shakily pulled a walkie-talkie from its tornado and demanded info on the status of the second dimensions, trying to figure out what had cracked and what they could possibly do to mitigate the devastation. Replies tumbled in, overlapping each other, frantically reporting fires in dimensions the Axolotl had never heard of before. He could already see how the line of blue fire on the cosmic horizon had grown so much brighter, stretching out into space. Please, don't let the fires have spread to the third dimensions.

The triangle was shaking like a leaf in a hurricane. Trying to sound more confident than he looked, he squeaked, "I think I've made my point! I'll let you losers off with a warning this time!"

The cops had somehow managed to put the entire line of reporters in between them and Dimension Zero. The crab ducked his mushrooms down when the triangle addressed them. The rotating rings shrank a little smaller, but muttered, "Well—we're—we're watching you."

The triangle surveyed the ring's hundred eyes. "Yeah," he drawled, "you look like you're good at that."

Voice shaking, the Time Giant barked at the triangle, "Are you nuts?" She gestured furiously toward the growing line of fire on the horizon; spurts of blue flame were still erupting into the third dimension. "I told you that moving around would damage—!"

"Don't. Don't provoke him," the Axolotl said. "He still has hostages in there."

"Hey!" the triangle shouted, and the Axolotl flinched. The triangle strained against the thin membrane of Dimension Zero to lunge at the Axolotl. "Watch who you're calling hostages! Hey, are any of you hostages?" He whipped around to stare at his people.

None answered. The ones who were lucid and living simply stared in silent terror.

"That's what I thought!" the triangle said. "Now, why aren't you dancing! Is this a party or not!" He whipped around again to face the Axolotl. "If you wanna go too, let's go. Just try to enter my kingdom, see what happens."

"No." The Axolotl could take it. The Axolotl was an axolotl; anything he lost, he could regrow. But the shapes that would be caught in the crossfire couldn't.

"Didn't think so," the triangle snarled. "If you want to kidnap my worshipers, you'll have to come in here and get them." His voice dropped to a deep, booming growl that echoed through the stars. "Because we're staying. Right. Here."

The Axolotl could hear VENDOR's motors whining in stress as THEY tensed up at that ultimatum, but THEY knew better than to argue. The triangle's eye twisted into a satisfied smirk.

The triangle couldn't leave his "dream realm," the Axolotl realized. That was why he threatened to fight anyone who crossed his borders: he couldn't attack them before then. He could crawl out of Dimension Zero, but not without dragging along the entire world he'd built inside of it. No wonder he hadn't even considered VENDOR's plan to move him somewhere else so Dimension 2 Delta's rubble could be recycled. He and his miasma were a package deal.

But—why couldn't he leave his dream realm?

"You know you can't stay in there," the Time Giant said, gently pushing aside the Axolotl when he tried to shush her. "It's too unstable—"

"I'll repair it."

"And I told you the entire multiverse will collapse if you keep making 'repairs'—"

"Your multiverse isn't my problem," the triangle said icily. "I can stabilize my dimension just fine. Maybe you need to get off my hypotenuse and worry about stabilizing your own dimensions." He was speaking past her now, talking instead toward the reporters—talking to the whole multiverse.

"It'll be your problem when the omnipocalypse crunches you, too! What'll you do when all those higher dimensions crash down on yours?!"

The triangle spread his arms and said, simply, "Welcome them to the party."

####

(Thanks for reading!! If the art lured you in and this is the first chapter you read, this is part 6 of a 7-or-8-or-9 part fic that keeps getting more parts, about the Axolotl in the immediate aftermath of the Euclidean Massacre. I'll be posting one chapter a week, Fridays 5pm CST, so stick around if you wanna watch the Axolotl deal with the fact that the sweet little triangle is, in fact, the bad guy. :,(

It's ALSO chapter 61 Part Six of an ongoing post-canon post-TBOB very-reluctantly-human Bill fic. So if you wanna read more of me writing Bill, check it out. If you're not sold on the idea of a human Bill fic, I've also got a one-shot about normal triangle Bill escaping the Theraprism if you wanna read that.

If this is NOT your first time here and you already knew all of the above: tbh this is probably all of you at this point, but I'm maintaining hope that contextless art of Bill & the Axolotl doing stuff will continue to lure in curious new readers until this arc is done lmfao.

At long last, the characters learn what the audience has known the whole time. This chapter had several big moments, looking forward to hearing y'all's thoughts!!)

[cher-rei]

bad days— lamine yamal [ l.y ]

you drew stars around my scars [cardigan– taylor swift]

pairing: lamine yamal x fem!reader

summary: after being subbed off during a match, lamine needs nothing more than to go home and lay in your arms

genre(s): fluff and comfort

[w.c: 1k] masterlist

notes: hiiii <33 how's everyone doing?? I'm sorry that I've been gone, I just started writing my finals so I've been a little pit of touch! and probably will be for a few weeks... but it's okay!!

lamine’s eyebrows knitted together in minor shock and confusion at the touchline. the substitution board was up— his number 19 clearly displayed in red to indicate that he was coming off. at the 66th minute.

there was a bitter taste in his mouth as he trudged off the pitch, his head hung low as he took his ansu’s hand since he was coming on in his place. he made sure to send his coach a blank glance before taking his spot on the bench with hector.

it wasn't long before he tossed his water bottle at the cooler in front of him. a frustrated groan left his lips, startling hector beside him who watched with sympathy as his friend sat with his hands covering his face.

with a lopsided smile, his friend lightly tapped his knee in reassurance, but that didn't simmer down the boy's bubbling negativity and hurt.

“I just need this match to end so that I can go home,” he said softly, more to himself as a reminder to pull through the next 30 minutes and sunk deeper into his seat.

as he trudged towards his house, his shoes scraped against the pavement, a rhythmic reminder of his disappointment. the city lights blurred together, a kaleidoscope of anger and frustration.

he burst through the door to his empty home, a sigh leaving his lips as he remembered that his parents were gone for the weekend. but the passage light was on, the same for upstairs which meant that someone was home.

lamine's heart pounded, a painful sting in his eyes but he hurriedly discarded his jacket and shoes to head upstairs. as he reached the top of the staircase, he heard the faint sound of laughter coming from his bedroom.

he opened the door hesitantly, but his tension dissipated immediately at the sight of you lounging casually with your laptop in front of you, your cellphone in your other hand. you were dressed in your sleepwear, indicating that you were staying the evening.

“hey, champ,” you said with a smile and discarded your phone to the side. “tough game?”

lamine's gaze lingered on yours, frustration melting at your gentle tone. “I got subbed off. again,” he replied, his voice softer than before.

your face lit up with empathy at your boyfriend's reply. this wasn't the first time that he came home upset about getting subbed off, he was even worse when they decided to rest him for a match. he went on about how there was no reason to, and that he was fine but you knew better than that.

you spread your arms and without saying anything lamine happily came to lay in between your legs, his head resting on your chest as you placed a gentle kiss to his forehead.

“talk to me.”

as lamine settled into the warmth of your embrace, his tension began to unravel, thread by thread. your gentle kiss on his forehead sparked a sense of calm, like a soothing balm spreading through his frazzled nerves.

“flick says that I need rest,” he muttered, his voice vibrating against your chest. “but I'm fine. I can keep going.”

your fingers danced through his hair, a reassuring touch. “you're not a machine, lamine. you need time to breathe, and if taking you off with 30 minutes left is the solution that so be it.”

lamine's eyes drifted shut, his breathing slowing as he absorbed your words. he knew you were right, but the frustration still simmered, a stubborn flame refusing to be extinguished.

you wrapped your arms around him, holding him as close as you possibly could. “you're important to the team, we know this. but you're young, and they can't risk losing you. it happens too often.”

his face contorted at the remembrance of pablo, ansu and balde who were out for an entire season, their form slowly returning after their traumatic injuries. but he couldn't help it. he needed to be on that pitch for 90 minutes. he wanted to do everything that he could to help his club succeed.

“I hate feeling like I'm letting everyone down.”

your grip tightened. “you're not letting anyone down, baby. you're taking care of yourself and that takes strength.”

as your words seeped into his mind, lamine felt the weight of his emotions shift. his anger and frustration began to give way to a deeper sadness. a feeling of hopelessness and self doubt.

“I just feel like I'm losing my edge,” he whispered, his voice cracking. his grip around your waist tightened and you took it as a sign to attempt to brighten the mood a little.

you mocked a gasp with a small smile. “what? lamine yamal losing his edge?” your nose scrunched. “impossible.”

your boyfriend’s face contorted in a mixture of embarrassment and amusement, his eyes still shining with unshed tears. “shut up,” he muttered, his voice laced with a hint of laughter. “you're not helping.”

you playfully rolled your eyes. “oh, I'm not?” you poked his side with your index finger and he squirmed a bit. “just know that when you're with me your edge is quite literally non-existent.”

lamine's face turned bright red and he tried to look away to try and hide his smile. “you're enjoying this aren't you?”

you nodded enthusiastically. “I mean it's not everyday that I get to see you this vulnerable right? I'm witnessing history.”

his eyes sparkled eyes sparkled with amusement, and he pulled you closer, flipping you onto your side so that you were looking at him from your side— his face inches from yours. “you're going to pay for this,” he whispered, his breath tickling your ear as he placed a kiss on your temple.

you playfully gasped, your heart pounding in your eyes. “I'm terrified. shaking in my boots actually,” you giggled, squirming out of his hold but he managed to pull you closer.

for a moment the room went silent, lamine's fingers gently tracing underneath your shirt. “I'm sorry for coming home in a bad mood.”

your heart swelled at his apology, saying nothing more and just pulling him closer as a reminder that it wasn't an issue. “it's okay, baby. I've got you.”

lamine's eyes, usually bright and bold, were vulnerable, like a window open to his soul. you could see the pain and doubt lingering in the depths, but also a spark of hope that flickered ever so lightly with every beat of his heart with yours.

you felt like you were drowning in his gaze, but in a good way, like you were floating on a sea of emotions, with lamine as your anchor. the air was thick with tension, but not the kind that made you uncomfortable. it was the kind that made you feel alive, like every cell in your body was vibrating.

his face was inches from yours, his breath whispering against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. you could feel his heart pounding in his chest, a rhythmic beat that echoed your own.

and then, like a whisper of reality, lamine's lips brushed against your ear. “I love you.”

your heart skipped a beat and you smiled, your voice barely audible. “I love you too.”

[daydreamingleclerc]

gorgeous; lewis hamilton

y/n's boyfriend is arguably one of the worst men on the planet, so, she decides to hook up with a pretty boy she meets in a club.

includes; smut, oral (m, f), fingering, degradation, teasing, spanking, hair pulling, face fucking, sir!kink, dom!lewis, sub!reader, infidelity, unprotected sex, squirting. this hasn't been proofread.

this is part of my taylor swift masterlist which you can find here. thank you to @sainzcaleruega and @landopeaches for always hyping up my writing even when i think it sucks <33

he was arguably one of the most attractive people she'd ever seen. that was a fact. his skin glowed under the harsh lighting, somehow making him look ethereal in a sea of sweaty, aggressively lit men and women, and whenever he looked over in her direction her skin buzzed with a sense of anticipation she didn't find anywhere else. a sense of excitement she hadn't felt for what felt like a lifetime.

as stubborn as he was in these situations, he had to admit - she too, was one of the prettiest women he'd ever laid eyes upon. the way she looked so effortlessly, shamelessly gorgeous in a room full of women who'd tried a little too hard to impress drew him to her like a moth to a flame. she didn't have to try, not for him, anyway.

"can i buy you a drink?"

the line was cheesy, and half-expected when she waltzed up to the bar. he watched her every move, as she weaved her way in and out of the crowd with ease, as if it was a habit. her lips curled up into a half smile and she pondered on the origin of his accent.

"i've got a boyfriend," her eyes raked across the selection of flavoured liquor standing on the shelf, and she waited for his reaction to come. he waivered, only slightly. "but if you want to take me home with you i suggest you try a lot harder than buying me a drink."

the man smirked and stood in closer, only by a few millimeters. his hand draped over the small of her back, and in that moment she noticed his scent. he smelled divine, the scent of richness and old money that she'd scoured so hard to find; he smelt like a man who was familiar with the ins and outs of what he was doing and that was almost enough for her to cave.

"what are you drinking?" he questioned. his voice was soft yet firm, and even under the boom of heavy music, she could hear him crystal clear.

"surely you should be able to tell," she glanced over at him for the first time since he struck up a conversation, but soon faced the liquors again, "a man with your intelligence, expertise. you know what a woman wants, so figure it out."

he admired her nonchalant nature, and so he went ahead and ordered for her, "a whiskey on ice and a tequila sunrise," his eyes flickered over to her as he spoke and immediately flickered back to the barman.

"anything else?"

"two orgasms," the barman almost walked away until she spoke, he nodded, and she glanced over at the pretty man beside her, "i'd ask for a couple more, but that's just being selfish."

he leaned in closer again, his fingers brushing her hipbones and marking his territory to those around him. "it's rude to have no manners," his finger's ran up the side of her dress, feeling out the zip just underneath the armpit so he could toggle on it later, "but then again, you'll be using them later."

"you seem oddly confident," she rose to his game fiercely and feistily, her eyes still avoiding him, "it's almost a pity."

her cockiness was arousing to him. he loved it when women fell at his feet, but this game was so much more entertaining for him to play. he couldn't help but hide a smirk. "we'll see who's going to be pitied when you're desperate enough to beg."

the drinks were brought to the pair of them quickly, and he watched as she knocked back both orgasms without a singular hitch in her face - oh, if only she knew how the orgasms he provided would leave her reeling.

"aren't you going to ask me about my boyfriend, about why i'm here in a crowded club all alone?"

it was clear to him she'd played this game multiple times before, but now she'd just confirmed it. "no," he simply smiled, and when she startled, his face grew wider, "judging by the fact you're out, talking to me, allowing me to buy you drinks, means you don't want to talk about him," his finger circled the rim of his whiskey glass, "but it also tells me you've come here to do this before, time and time again, desperate for somebody to show you a good time. am i right?"

her mouth suddenly went dry.

she sucked the cocktail through the small straw, and he waited patiently for her response.

"you could say that's correct," it pissed her off to admit he was right; she didn't like doing that, "do you think you're up to the task?" her eyes looked right into his, and for the first time that night, she allowed herself to get lost in them, "because i don't think you've got what it takes."

their lips were so close in that moment, she could feel his breath fanning at her skin and it ignited a fire inside of her stomach. the tension could be sliced with a knife, and when he placed his finger on her lips to halt her movements, it drove her crazy.

"you couldn't be more wrong, sweetheart."

"prove it to me, then."

her lips puckered slightly so she could kiss the pad of his finger, but in his haste he allowed himself to divulge in the taste of her tongue. sparks flew inside of her stomach at the prospect of what was inevitably going to happen, and when his tongue slid along her bottom lip, she fought it. Y/N wasn't one for giving in that easily.

"i don't even know your name," the man muttered against her lips, pulling away for a short breath of air in the midst of all his hormones, "and i'd, at the very least, like to tell you mine so you know what name to type into your phone next time you go looking for a man to make you feel good."

"you're so cocky," she hummed, pulling away from him snappishly to fumble on the counter for her drink. she admired the lipstick stain smeared across his chin. "it's almost humbling."

"you're so eager," he retorted, allowing himself a moment of composure. her body language was buzzing, and her eagerness to allow him to have his way with her was radiating off of her skin and bouncing among the pair of them like energy. "you might as well just bend over and let me fuck you in here."

he watched as the glimmer in her eyes shone, and cottoned onto the notion that she loved the thought of that. she knew that he could sense it, too, and she cursed herself for allowing her eyes to be so distinctively emotional.

"your eyes say everything you don't, darling," he paused and leaned closer, and when she went in for another kiss, he laughed. "see, i'm already starting to pity you."

he watched as she knocked back her drink, and as much as he wanted to tease her some more and hang back in the club for an hour or so, this was his forte.

"i hope your boyfriends not expecting you back anytime soon," he grabbed at her hand as he pulled her through the crowd, the manner brash and needy, nothing like the way she waltzed through it last time. "my name's lewis, by the way. you're gonna need to remember that."

/

his hotel room wasn't that far of a journey, and Y/N thanked her lucky stars when her initial thoughts were right - he was rich, and she was going to make sure to be calling him again.

"you still haven't told me your name," he said, handing her a small glass filled with tequila soda.

she took a sip, "is that a bad thing?"

"i'd at least like to know your name before i fuck you, yeah," he took a sip of his and perched on the edge of the armchair opposite her. her legs looked deliciously long and slender from this angle, and the light bounced off of them and caused a sleek shine. "is that a bad thing?"

"i suppose not," she hummed, and leaned forward to place her drink on the table. her cleavage squeezed between her arms as she moved and lewis struggled to keep himself composed. "Y/N."

Y/N.

he felt at peace knowing he had a name to put to the face, and it was just as beautiful as he imagined. she leaned back in her chair and her eyes gazed over him, and he was in awe of how she did everything so effortlessly. he leaned over the coffee table and hovered over her, his hands resting on the arm of her chair.

now that they could see one another clearer, and the atmosphere was less intrusive, there was a self consciousness surrounding them, as if they didn't want to get it wrong or overstep their mark; even though they both knew what they were here to do.

when lewis leaned down to kiss her, she melted into him almost immediately, and any traces of the feisty, fiery lady she once was at the bar had subsided. she was his, ultimately and indefinitely his, for this night.

lewis' hands trailed down her arms and along the stitching of the dress in an attempt to find the zipper from earlier. "may i...?" he asked, although when she'd started to nod, he was already pulling it down.

the dress completely unzipped and when lewis sunk to his knees and helped her to shimmy out of it, she didn't stop him. his lips caressed her thighs, kissing at the hot, slightly sweaty skin just to tease her as his thumbs and forefingers massaged at her calves.

her impatience had begun to seep through and it was clear to him she was beginning to become desperate when he noticed the material of her lace underwear changing colour due to the damp patch. he couldn't help but smirk.

his lips trailed across her pubic bone, that was partially hidden by the flimsy excuse for underwear, and as he kissed along the hot skin, she jolted and shimmied in anticipation.

"waiting for something?"

Y/N bucked her hips, but lewis' hands flew to her thighs and stopped her before she could gain any friction from the contact. "i said," he repeated, "are you waiting for something?"

she grumbled, "if you're not gonna fucking do it, then i'll find someone else who will."

lewis' eyes darkened, and she soon realised she was probably going to regret saying those words. he yanked at the material of her underwear and pulled it off in one swift motion, tossing it over his shoulder. "legs up," he motioned for her to swing her legs onto the arms of the chair, and she obliged, swinging them up onto the arms despite the ache it brought to her thighs. "good girl, you do know how to listen."

he savored the moment, allowing his fingers to slide within her folds and touch her delicately, swirling the pad of his middle finger around her clit and pressing softly into her opening. she was mewling, soft little whimpers and hardly-there noise that screamed out so much.

lewis' tongue swirled around her clit and immediately her hands flew to his dreadlocks. his hands splayed across her thighs as he worked his tongue around her, his facial hair only adding to her sensations.

"you taste so fucking good," he pulled away for a minute, and she looked up to watch him conjuring up spit. "i could stay here all fucking night."

she moaned, tipping her head back and getting lost in the feeling of him. she'd never experienced head like this before, and she couldn't quite contain herself. his hands moved from her thighs down to her bum, where one massaged the flesh and the other trailed up to where she needed attention the most.

"are you sure you can handle this? hm?" he cooed, pulling his lips away from her clit and causing her to cry out, "i don't know if you're ready."

"i am," she pouted, "please, lewis."

he smirked, and with that he pressed two fingers inside of her, and immediately she began to clench. "see, i told you i'd have you begging."

his fingers inside of her felt surreal, the way they hit every ridge and curve so well and slid through her wetness. she was dripping down his hand, she knew it, and she showed no shame. his fingertips curled and when they tickled her g-spot she flinched, her legs shooting outwards with a mind of their own.

"god, fucking hell if you keep on doing that i'm gonna cum."

lewis kissed at the inside of her thigh as he continued to fuck her with his fingers, "what did i tell you earlier about your manners, darling? they really are atrocious."

"i-i'm sorry," she mumbled, "please can i...?"

"please can you what, Y/N?"

she frowned for a second but she was whipped into shape quickly when he slapped her thigh. "please can i cum?"

"see," lewis kissed her clit and made her jolt, "that really wasn't so hard, was it baby?"

she shook her head, and when lewis' movements sped up, she saw it as her sign to cum. her legs trembled and her back arched off of the armchair, and she came hard and fast all over his fingers. he looked up at her with hooded eyes as she came down from her orgasm, her arms were over her head tugging at the armchair cushion and her back was still arched. she looked fucked out already, and her heavy breathing made him hard as a rock.

he knew he needed her now, no more waiting. he had to be inside of her, he wanted to make everyone in the rooms surrounding him know he could pleasure a woman right.

she felt a buzz in her stomach at the manhandling. lewis had picked her up from her state on the armchair and pushed her onto all fours on the adjoining sofa.

"do you still believe that i don't have what it takes, sweetheart?"

she turned her face round to look at him, and when he pulled his shirt off to reveal a body full of tattoos, she almost died on the spot. he knew she was checking him out, and he couldn't help but flex a little as he weaved his belt out of his trousers, and when she shook her head with a smirk on her face, she knew she was in trouble.

"well i think you're a fucking liar." he grabbed at her neck and squeezed the flesh softly until she made an audible choking sound, and then he released her. she continued to admire him through hazy eyes, and when he stood completely naked behind her she almost felt her knees give way.

he lined himself up with her and pushed in all the way, leaving her almost screaming at the fullness. he left her no time to properly adjust to his size before he pulled out and slid back inside her again with ease.

"oh, fuck, lewis," she cried out, her head throwing back. he grabbed ahold of her hips and squeezed at the flesh of her bum, slapping and kneading it between his hands. "you're so fucking big."

he left a slap to her bum once more. he enjoyed the ego boost.

"so fucking tight," he grunted as he continued to thrust, each time getting deeper and deeper, "your boyfriend really doesn't fuck you right, does he baby? hm?"

"no," she whined, a yelp of pain drawn from her lips when he wrapped his hand around her hair and used it as leverage, too. "only you, lewis."

he slapped her bum again. "that's the right fucking answer, only i can fuck you this good," his hips were slamming against her bum now, and lewis watched the constant loop of recoils that took place in front of him. "isn't that right, baby? hm? you're never gonna go to anybody else, that pussy's all mine, isn't it?"

"n-no, sir," she choked out, and lewis audibly growled, "nobody else. yours."

he laughed at her garbled nonsense. "good girl, you sound so pretty now that there's not a thought left in that pretty little head."

Y/N knew she wasn't going to last much longer, and lewis could tell because of the wet sounds her pussy was making as he fucked her, and the way she clenched him like a vice every time he pulled back out.

"gonna cum for me, Y/N?" he left a slap to her bum and pulled her right up against his chest by her hair, until he managed to wrap an arm around her torso and lock her in with his strength. her arms wrapped around his neck and she tugged at his dreads. "come on, baby. i know you can."

his free hand reached around and strummed at her clit, leaving her no wiggling room. the overstimulation became too much, and as lewis' lips bit down on her earlobe, she squirted all around him, her pussy clenching and convulsing uncontrollably as she screamed and rode out her high.

it took everything in lewis not to cum inside of her then and there, but he knew he needed restraint. he needed to be careful.

he pulled out of her and she fell limp, but lewis manhandled her once again, "don't think you're finished yet, baby," he pushed the strands of sweaty hair from her face over to the side of her neck, "i wanna see my dick in your pretty mouth first."

she hummed, and took as much of him in her mouth as she could, and lewis couldn't help but thrust his hips. the contractions of her throat gagging around him made his groan, and he had to suck in deep breaths every time he pushed back into her mouth.

spit trickled down Y/N's chin and pooled at her knees on the floor as she sucked at him sloppily. the movements of her tongue combined with his thrusts down her throat meant he wasn't going to last long.

"hold still," lewis said, bunching her hair up into a ponytail with his hand and fucking her face, the noises falling from her mouth at the sensation enough to make him groan. "fu-uck, that's it. good girl."

one hand fell to her cheek and she looked up at him as his dick slipped in and out of her mouth, and he couldn't hold it in any longer. he pressed the base of his dick flush against her tongue, and admired her pretty face as beads of cum landed on her tongue, nose and cheeks.

she gathered it all up on her tongue and he watched as she let it drool from the tip and trickle down onto her chest, merging with her spit and sweat. he'd never been more ready for another round in his life.

Y/N sat back on her heels and when lewis held out a hand for her to get up, her legs wobbled and she had to wait several moments before they regained usage.

"thank you," she smiled, wiping her chin, "i've not had sex that good in a long time."

"ditto," lewis smiled. the pair of them sat back on the sofa in silence, enjoying the company of the other person. "if you want to stay, you can."

"thank you," she smiled again, a sincere, almost apologetic smile. "i'd love that, but i think i need to shower before i make my mind up."

he nodded, and rose to his feet with an outstretched arm, "come with me, i'll help you clean yourself up."

[zepskies]

Strong as Blood - Part 1

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Reader

Summary: After you accidentally break through a solid wood table, you know there’s something wrong with you. You begin to have your suspicions, but can you keep it from Ben long enough to find out? 

(In other words: This is the story of how you and Ben discover that you’re pregnant.)

AN: This two-part fic can be read as stand-alone, but it’s really a bonus sequel to Break Me Down!

Word Count: 4,500

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Angst, fluff, and a smutty ending. 

To find the chronological reading order for the series, check out the series masterlist. ⤵️

💚 Break Me Down

Part 1: “Probably Temporary”

Make no mistake. Ben was still a terrible cook.

He’d sort of gotten the hang of the grill though, even if he technically wasn’t supposed to be smoking meat on the apartment’s second-floor balcony. 

You peeked out at your boyfriend through the sliding glass door to make sure he was still doing okay. He caught you though, and shot you a wink.

He was very proud of his grill. 

We’re so gonna get in trouble with the homeowner’s association, you thought, but you couldn’t help a smile. You obliged him when he beckoned you over, and you slid the door open. 

“Almost done? I think our neighbors are going to complain again,” you said with a laugh. Ben rolled his eyes.

“It’s a bit of smoke, not a fucking forest fire,” he groused. “Let those uppity fucks complain. Bet’cha they won’t have the balls to say shit to my face if I go across the street for a little visit.” 

You soothed him with a hand along his shoulder. It also gave you an excuse to check on his progress. You considered this episode to be a success, considering the balcony wasn’t up in flames this time. And the steaks actually looked good. Not brittle pieces of charcoal, but not raw and bleeding either.  

“I think those are done,” you advised. Ben followed your gaze and nodded. He used his bare hands to turn the foil-wrapped potatoes, just because he could. 

“Why don’t you take ‘em in while I finish up these potatoes,” he said. “How’s the rest coming?”

“Good. I’m about to take the casserole out of the oven,” you said with a nod. Meanwhile, he placed the steaks in a glass dish that been sitting near the open grill. He handed it to you, but you almost dropped the steaks when the hot glass burned your hands. 

You hissed in pain, while Ben caught the dish with both hands. His brows furrowed, first in surprise, then in thinly veiled concern when he looked over at you. He reached out for your shoulder. 

“Damn,” he said. “Didn’t seem that hot…you okay?”

You looked up from your stinging hands and sighed at him in exasperation, but you couldn’t get that mad at him. He sometimes couldn’t gauge things like this when it came to what he could handle, versus what your normal human body could. 

“Yeah. I’ll just break out the aloe. First, let me get some oven mitts,” you replied, but your answering smile retained some good humor. Ben quirked an apologetic smile of his own. He decided to follow you into the kitchen, taking the steaks in himself. 

You grabbed your favorite green oven mitts and carefully took out the veggie casserole. It smelled delicious, but Ben still peered at it over your shoulder when you placed it on the counter. 

“Don’t you look at my casserole sideways,” you quipped. “You need to eat more veggies.”

He leveled you with a dry look. “You saying I’m getting out of shape?”

“God forbid,” you gasped, playfully jabbing at his firm abs with a mitt-covered hand. “I’m just saying, your super metabolism is compensating for a lot of booze and Taco Bell.”

Ben rose a brow at your cheekiness. He drew closer behind you, trapping you against the counter with one hand braced on the edge, and the other sliding up your jean-clad hip. 

“You’ve got some nerve. I don’t talk shit about the stash of Twix bars in your nightstand, do I?” he remarked. He nipped at your ear, making you flinch and giggle. His beard was also tickling your neck. 

“You’re peeping in my nightstand now? How dare you,” you teased. He snorted in response. 

“Please. Your purple vibrator isn’t exactly a fucking mystery to me,” he retorted. You felt his smirk growing against your neck. “Might wanna keep it away from the chocolate though. That could get messy…unless you want it to be.” 

Your body shook with the effort of containing your laughter. He was so fucking gross.

“Don’t you need to check on the potatoes?” you asked. “I don’t want to have to pressure wash the balcony again.”

Ben made a sound of agreement, but was sure to swat you on the ass before he went. You jolted, but you just shook your head with a blush and a smile. 

It had been over a year since you and Ben had moved in together. Already you’d had your first fight as a true couple, your first Christmas, and so many other challenges, large and small, that had all come to solidify one thing for you.

You were happy. Maybe for the first time in your life. 

It just came with some…small caveats, you reflected, as you reached into the fridge to find the jar of aloe vera. Before you slathered some onto your hands, you realized they were no longer red, and they didn’t even sting anymore.

“What the hell?” you muttered. You put back the jar and rested a hand on your hip. 

Well, maybe you hadn’t burned yourself as bad as you thought. 

With that oddity still in your mind, you pulled on your oven mitts again and took up the casserole with the intention of bringing it to the dining table. Admittedly, you were a bit distracted. You didn’t remember about the raised ledge in the doorway to the dining room until it was too late.

You tripped, and though you managed to make it to the table, you gasped when you broke right through the wood. 

The table just seemed to give up when you hit it, cracking in half, and sending you tumbling to the floor with hot casserole heaped on top. You were still stunned when Ben tore back inside. His green eyes were wide, his brows furrowed as he took in the state of you on the floor with the broken table.

“What the hell happened?” he asked, though he bent down to help you up. He checked you for injuries, but both of you found nothing. 

“I’m okay,” you said, a bit shakily. “I tripped, that’s all.”

Ben’s brows raised as he looked from you to the shards of the table. He knocked on the wood surface. 

“Cheap piece of shit. Where’d you get this thing?” he asked. 

You flickered at a smile and admitted, “IKEA.”

Ben shook his head. “We really need to broaden your palate.”

You insisted you were all right. But he insisted, without words, on checking you over again. His hands brushed down your shoulders and arms, your hands and neck.

He held your face in his hands, and he let out a deep sigh. You just smiled up at him, though inside, you were hiding a bit of worry yourself. 

That table hadn’t been cheap. It was solid pine wood. 

But Ben seemed to believe you. He also seemed a bit exasperated. 

“I should just layer you up in goddamn bubble wrap. The way you find ways to break yourself is beyond me,” he muttered. Your lips pursed. 

“I resent that—”

“I’m sure you fucking do.”

“Besides,” you said, a smirk pulling at the corner of your mouth. “What a pain in the ass would it be to unwrap me?” 

Ben huffed, even as his hands traveled down to wrap around your waist and pull you in close. 

“True,” he smirked. “You’re already a pain in the ass as it is.” 

You opened your mouth to mount an indignant protest, but he shut you up the only surefire way he knew how. His kiss was swift, deep, and left you humming into his mouth in surprise. 

But you soon pulled back, brushing a thumb along his chin. “We’ve got to clean up this mess. And…did you get the potatoes?”

Ben thought for a moment, but then his mouth firmed into a line. 

“Shit,” he muttered, and released you to run back to the grill. 

That night, you stood barefooted in your nightgown and took a moment alone in the bathroom to breathe. And to think. And to test the strength in your hands, by bending one of Ben’s metal wrenches like it was a useless paper straw. 

Okay, now you were panicking a bit. 

What the fuck? you thought. You had only ever experienced super strength when you were on V24 (which you had not taken, let alone the permanent stuff). 

But…if you thought about it, there had been one other time when you had felt this strong. And it had been when you were in the hospital, almost two years ago, after Vought Tower collapsed. You’d needed a surgery you might not have lived through. It was Ben’s actions that had saved you…after he donated his blood.

Unless he was somehow giving you transfusions without you knowing, there was only one other possibility you could think of for Ben’s DNA to somehow be in your system…

Holy shit, you thought. And you sat down on the closed toilet. Hard. Enough to dislodge a decorative dish that was perched on a shelf behind you. You gasped, but weren’t able to catch it before it hit the ground loudly. You winced and picked it up, even as you heard Ben’s steps approaching the bathroom. 

“You okay?” he asked predictably, through the closed door.

“Fine!” you said, your voice too high. You cleared your throat and tried to normalize your voice. “I’m fine, just dropped something.”

“Christ. You going for a record today?” he remarked. 

You rolled your eyes. 

A few minutes later, you finished in the bathroom and tried to act as normal as possible as you slid into bed next to your boyfriend. He was watching TV, but he glanced over at you. You knew he was silently assessing you, seeing if you were really okay. 

You gave him a smile and leaned over for a goodnight kiss. You attempted to be chaste, but he deepened it. He slid an arm around your waist and tilted his head, slipping his tongue between the seam of your lips. 

You welcomed him at first…but a tremor of warning flashed in your mind, along with the persistent thought that had followed you from the bathroom.

Should I tell him? 

You didn’t know why your inclination was to hold it in. There very well could be something wrong with you. But if your suspicions were true, then you wanted confirmation first. 

“What’s the matter?” Ben asked. He’d pulled back, sensing your distraction. You came back to yourself.

“Nothing, just tired,” you said, stroking his chest over his shirt. 

Ben looked into your eyes, his face more or less stoic. You saw the way he was trying to get a read on you though, like he didn’t quite believe you. You couldn’t blame him, but you could be very convincing when you needed to be.

He eventually nodded, letting you turn away from him to slip under the covers. Even though you felt the sting of your lie tingling unpleasantly down your spine. 

You met Dr. Tonya Baker at her office in the Supe Affairs building. She’d been Vought’s top scientist, up until last year. After Stan Edgar’s death and the company’s collapse, the CIA recruited Dr. Baker. 

You didn’t like her. Nor did you trust her, exactly, but she had assisted Dr. Vogelbaum when Becca Butcher came to him with a unique problem. Now, Dr. Baker was the only one left with the knowledge and resources to advise you.

And she was able to confirm your suspicions. She came back with lab results while you sat up on an examining table. 

“You’re eleven weeks pregnant,” she informed you. 

Even though you’d been somewhat expecting it, suspicion and knowing were very different things. You took in a shaking breath, and through your shock, you were smiling. Happy, and even relieved.

Until Dr. Baker spoke again. 

“The super strength is probably temporary. A side effect of the fetus’s genetics. But, it’s also advantageous for you,” she said, adjusting her glasses. “This makes it much more likely that you’ll survive the birth.”

Your breath ceased at that thought, not to mention her clinical delivery. 

“Always with that delightful bedside manner, Doctor,” you quipped. All of a sudden, you were feeling lightheaded. 

Or maybe you were just freaking the fuck out. 

When you got home that evening after work, Ben watched you. 

He knew something was off with you the second you walked through the door, pale and pensive. Still, you flashed him a greeting and a smile that didn’t reach your eyes on your way to the bedroom. 

So he followed you. And the fact that you didn’t even notice, even flinched when he dropped a hand on your shoulder, told him that you were more than just distracted. The last straw was when you walked into the dresser while glancing back at him. You hissed and shook out your sandle-clad foot. 

Now, you were injury prone at the best of times, but this was a bit much, Ben thought. 

“Geez, I didn’t even hear you,” you said, trying at a chuckle. “Normally you thud around in those combat boots like an elephant. We’re lucky no one lives below us—”

“What’s the matter with you?” Ben asked. He was never one to beat around the bush. 

Your eyes widened a fraction; unease crept down your spine, but you gave him a quirk of your brow. 

“Excuse me?” 

“You fucking heard me,” he said. His gaze was hunter green, serious, and focused down on you.

“I’m fine, Ben—”

“No,” he snapped. “There’s something off with you.” 

You bit your lower lip. It seemed your boyfriend knew you better than you thought. You’d had a plan though. You had wanted to wait until you had a moment to shake off your anxiety and focus on the good when you sat him down this evening.

But you should’ve known better. Ben was remarkably impatient, even when he didn’t know what he was in for. 

And he got tired of waiting for your answer. 

He changed tactics, reaching for your arms. His grip was firm, but gentle in brushing his thumbs back and forth across your skin. His mouth was in a line, and you caught the concern hiding under his furrowed brows. 

“What’s so bad you can’t tell me?” he asked. 

You looked up into his eyes. Despite yourself, you had to smile. I’m not playing fair, you realized. 

“Okay, come ‘ere,” you said. You took his hand and led him to sit with you on the bed. Pulling his hand between both of yours into your lap, you sighed and thought about how you were going to say this. 

After a moment, you got a burst of inspiration. You held up a waiting finger to him and went into the closet to pull out one of your 25-pound hand weights. It might as well have weighed a pound, for how light it felt. You brought it back to the bed, and Ben stared back at you quizzically. 

“So…I didn’t get that table from IKEA,” you confessed. “It was solid wood, and I really did break straight through it.”

He rose a brow. “All right…”

You then showed him your newfound strength, by breaking the hand weight in half with your bare hands. His eyes widened, making you giggle a bit. You deposited both metal heads into his hands. He considered them, then you. His brows were knitting together even tighter. 

“What the hell—”

“Remember when you donated blood for me, when I was laid up in the hospital a couple years ago?” you asked. “I got your super strength for a day or two afterwards.”

Ben nodded. You had been a bit more than laid up, but semantics, he guessed. He was getting more confused by the moment. 

“Well this time, I’m told it’s also temporary…for the next seven months or so,” you said with a playful smile. 

Ben considered your words. He turned them back and forth in his head… 

Finally, his gaze flicked from yours to the broken weights in his hands. And he tossed them to the floor with a heavy thud on the hard wood. 

You giggled in earnest when he reached for your face with both hands. His eyes searched yours for any hint of a joke, his jaw tight and working. 

“Are you fucking with me right now?” he asked. His voice was a hint unsteady. You smiled bright and covered his hands with your own as the beginnings of tears stung in your eyes. 

“Not this time,” you said. “Ben, I’m pregnant.” 

It took him a moment to register your words. You saw the moment it all finally set in, with new realization etching into his features.

Never once had you seen this man tear up. He turned his face away, but you still caught the edges of his emotion. 

You reached for his bearded cheek, turning him back to you. His eyes were red and starting to shine, even though he was fighting it. A muscle in his jaw clenched, and then eased.

After a beat, his hands moved down from your face to brush down your arms, down your sides and around your frame. He pulled you into his lap, for which you went willingly into his arms. And your tears fell in earnest when he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

You knew what this meant to him, but you still couldn’t help but prod at him.

“Are you happy?” you teased, rubbing his back. Ben huffed and brushed a strand of hair out of your eyes. 

“What do you think?” he countered.  

Your hand moved down to slip under his shirt, gliding over the taut muscles in his back as they responded to your touch. You met him with a small smirk. 

“Show me,” you challenged. 

His lips quirked; that was all the encouragement he needed. Ben’s hands moved to tangle in your hair and squeeze the curve of your waist, bringing you flush against him when he kissed you. You inhaled deeply. Your nails dragged up his back, applying some pressure that made his shoulders twitch. 

You didn’t know what your newfound strength felt like to him, but for Ben, you felt solid in a way you hadn’t before. He could let go of some of his self-control and knead your hips with a force beyond bruising.

He could veer away from your lips and raze down your neck, and give your shoulder a love bite that would’ve drawn blood. Now it didn’t even break your skin. It did, however, earn him a pleased gasp. 

Maybe he’d just have to keep knocking you up, he thought. So you’d always be this strong.  

You started rucking up his shirt first, and had to push him back to even get it off him. After that, all bets were off.

It was a mad scramble to shed each other’s clothes, with Ben not being able to get away with his usual manhandling. Your smile grew, as you now had the strength to literally push back and make him work a bit harder for it.  

He smirked up at you when you managed to take him by surprise and push him back onto the bed. You’d successfully bared him for your gaze, but you still had your bra and panties on as you climbed over him and straddled his lap. 

Ben held himself up with a hand on the bed as the other slid around your waist and hooked you in. You took his face in your hands and gave him the full force of your passion.

Your lips claimed his in a devouring kiss, teeth clicking and tongues dueling for dominance. And you ground down your clothed core against his rising length, earning his groan of appreciation into your mouth.

With a flick of his wrist, your bra strap snapped off in the back. You huffed, knowing he’d probably broken the clasp.

Ah well, I’m about to need new ones soon enough.

The thought made you smile against his lips. You let him pull the bra down your arms and wherever he decided to fling it off to. You thought he might start traveling down between your breasts, as was a favorite path of his to map out.

But then, in one smooth motion Ben had you flipped over onto your back. He grinned at your yelp of surprise, but he didn’t give you a chance to recover. He latched onto your neck again, this time on the other side as he scraped his beard and teeth across your skin.

Meanwhile, you moaned encouragements in his ear while his heavy hand squeezed one of your breasts, rolled a thumb over a pert nipple. 

You trailed your hands down his chest, soothing over golden tan skin and freckles and sculpted muscle until you reached his hard length. You earned a straining grunt from your man as you teased the sensitive flesh, a thumb circling over its weeping head. 

Ben grabbed your wrist and gave you a warning look. “Can’t let me fucking concentrate, huh?”

You just grinned and took his hand instead. You dragged it down your body until you guided his fingers into your underwear, between your wet folds. 

“Ben, I need you,” you said. But your need was already in your eyes. Your skin was on fire wherever he touched, and deep inside, where you burned for him most. 

Ben felt it in your iron grip on his hand, now almost as strong as his own. Your legs curled up his thighs to wrap around his hips, teasing him with the soft promise between your inner thighs. So how could he do anything else but give you what you wanted? 

He teased between your folds with his fingers first. Gathering some of your wetness, he circled over your clit firmly. You whimpered as your back arched in response. 

“Gonna sing for me, baby doll?” he teased. Your breathing became more labored as his fingers continued to play with you, but you managed to offer a small smirk. 

“You gonna make me?” you asked. “Think you need to bring out the big guns for that one.”

Ben chuckled. As usual, you were being a little shit. 

So he brought you to the edge of your release, just with his fingers. You were starting to squeeze them tight with your inner walls, your moans getting more urgent. But he withdrew his digits at the last moment, leaving you panting and confused.

“What…”

He smirked down at you and wrapped his slick fingers around his cock, stroking himself a few times. You watched him with expectant, hungry eyes.  

“You want the big guns, I’ll fucking give ‘em to you,” he said. It made you huff, but you had to smile as he returned to you. He hooked his fingers on the hem of your panties and slowly, torturous, he pulled them down your legs.

Those same hands then traveled back up, gliding across your skin with purpose. Your breath shallowed in anticipation.

He eventually gripped your hips, pushing your thighs up a bit farther, and you lined his cock to your entrance. Your heels dug into his ass and added a bit of force when he pushed inside you. And your moans tangled together along with your bodies.

You fairly pulsed inside, and he felt it in your inner walls wrapped so fucking tight around him. His forehead briefly fell to your shoulder. Even though you were panting for breath, you still soothed him, carding your fingers through his hair. 

Normally he’d be going off at a relentless clip by now. But Ben started slow, rolling his hips back and forth into yours at a steady rhythm that managed to take your breath away and make your toes curl.

His name fell from your lips, reverent and pleased. You felt every part of him as he plunged inside you, and it was incredibly fucking hot.  

He took a moment to meet your eyes. He gave you a grin that softened the hard edges that so often lined his face in times like this. And you realized then what was happening.

Ben didn’t do slow. Not for long anyway. But it seemed like he’d taken your challenge to heart. In fact, you had a feeling he was showing you what he couldn’t quite put into words. 

When he reached a hand to part your folds and circle two insistent finger pads around your clit, you couldn’t help but grip his arms tight enough to bruise him. Your mouth opened on a keening moan.

Combined with his deep strokes starting to brush all the right spots inside you, it had you squeezing on him from the inside as you came hard, and made it known in his ear.

“Fuck—” Ben’s brows furrowed as your release finally triggered his own. And his voice joined yours, muffling in the pillow under your head. You shuddered as he spilled deep inside you. 

Your arms came around his back and held him to you for a moment afterwards, just stroking his back, his shoulders, his neck, whatever you could reach while you both caught your breath.

Eventually, Ben’s lips found your neck. You felt the shape of his smile grow there. 

“Too bad you’re already knocked up, or that could’ve been a great way to bring in our second kid,” he remarked.

This time, it took a second for his words to click together in your mind. As soon as they did, you uttered a laugh that shook both of your frames. You swatted his ass in reproach. He smirked down at you.

“I can't with you,” you said. Though you were still giggling. “You’re just gonna have to wait for the first one to come out of the oven.” 

Ben’s smirk evened out into a grin, his face almost boyish in his glee.

“Well, what can I say, baby? You’re a damn good cook.”  

AN: 😂 Well then. What did you think of how she broke the news? And Ben's reaction to finding out he's finally going to be a dad? 🥹

But of course, it's not going to be all sunshine and roses in Part 2. The reader and Ben reveal the good news to her family, and as we all know, he's hoping for a son...

Next Time:

“Hey,” she said. “You know how much I care about you, right?”

“And where’s this going?” you quipped. But you turned around and gave your little sister a half-smile. You knew what she was about to say.

“So what are you going to do about that?” she asked, gesturing to your man in the kitchen. “Mr. Macho wants his prized stud. What happens if he doesn’t get him?”

You sighed. “Ben’s wanted this for a long time. He’s got an idea in his head of what it’s going to be like, and…we’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”

Keep reading: PART 2

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[carmyberzattosjournal]

Entry 29: Crossed Wires

Screenshot Credit: @boardchairman-blog

Bearblr Promptober Day 29: Corruption (sorta? I tried)

Summary: Carmy's girlfriend (who he calls Darling) introduces him to impact play (flogger), and it wrecks his wiring. Mild smut.

Warnings: Swearing, mentioned fight with Syd, Richie and Nat, casual suicidal thought (1), impact play (flogger), fem reader/lass who is a trauma surgeon, she/her pronouns. (1006 words)

Notes: All journal entries will be titled as such and tagged with #cb journal.

Thank you for reading. Thank you to @carmenberzattosgf for putting together this prompt list. Sideblog for commentary and yapping: @m-z-shoroi

Also, if random letters or words are black/white instead of the colors they should be, that's Tumblr being dumb, I've been fighting it for weeks.

29 Oct 2024

Darling crossed a lot of my wires, but her magnum opus had to be soldering the ones for pain and pleasure together.

The anticipation of getting hit sat as this half-molten brick of brimstone in the pit of my stomach. It churned with the heat of magma, bubbling up as licks of flames that, in the fleeting but eternal minutes I waited kneeling next to the bed with my forehead resting on my folded arms, I could almost feel at the roof of my mouth. I’d spit flames, I was sure of it, if the eon stretched any longer, and they’d fucking annihilate whatever small fragments of me remained coincidentally affixed together after the thrashing I received that day. If I wasn’t non-linear, if I wasn’t being scraped off the fucking pavement and put into a jar when Richie, Syd, Sugar, and I all exploded at each other, it was because of negligence. Because one or some of their barbs was aimed lazily enough to miss the fucking target—not because I had any connective tissue holding me together. I don’t often want to die, but at The Bear partly through prep that day, an otherwise nondescript Monday? I prayed Richie would grab a knife from the block and tear it across my throat.

“What’s your safeword, sweetheart?” Darling whispered from behind me.

The sound of leather groaning as she, in all likelihood, twisted the flogger around her hand, pierced the silence further.

“Mercy.” It barely made it past my throat.

Cool strands of leather brushed across my bare back, between my shoulder blades, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. Goosebumps exploded along my arms.

“Shhhhh…” She wove her fingers into and gripped a fistful of my hair. “Relax. Remember, we don’t have to do th—”

“Please, just fucking hit me already,” I whimpered.

“I will once you relax, pretty boy.”

“Fuck you.” It left my mouth before I could stop it. My face erupted in heat. I drew in a breath to apologize, but she cut me off.

“I know. I get it. It’s okay.”

 My mouth wouldn’t move. Wouldn’t produce the apology. A whooshing sound, then a crack, then a sting between my shoulder blades. Exactly like a jump rope to the ankle. Exactly like she’s said it would’ve felt.

“Fuck!” I hissed. I gripped fistfuls of the sheets and recoiled against the pain.

It surprised me more than it hurt, at first. Not the pain, but the little surge of heat in my navel, dangerously close to arousal. Then, the sting faded into warmth and tightness, like something was tugging at my skin. And then the pain came back. Duller. Deeper. Irritating, almost. I wanted her to rake her nails over it.

Oh, I was fucked.

“D-do it again,” I said. “Please.”

Fucked straight to hell.

“That wasn’t too hard, was it, sweet—”

“N-no. No. P-please do it again.”

The second one had that initial spark of pain, but then the sensation went away. Melted into the same dull, distant tightness that was already present. But holy fuck, it felt heavenly. My dick stirred, halfway to half-hard, and all I could think of was—

“Again? Please?”

She didn’t hesitate this time, and I couldn’t stop a groan from tearing from my chest.

“Oh.” She curled her hand around my throat and lifted my head to greet me with a wicked grin. “Oh, does that feel good, pretty boy?”

She wasn’t squeezing, but it was just enough pressure for blood to pool in my head, and I got that fuzzy, floaty feeling. My dick strained in my sweatpants, and all I could do was press up against the side of the bed, try to chase down some friction. My eyes fluttered closed without my consent. Please, squeeze harder. Please, please, fucking crush me in your hands, call me pretty boy again, leave bruises, leave shadows like a fucking dog collar that I can take with me tomorrow. Maybe I’ll act less like a wild fucking animal. Maybe it’ll feel like you’re there and I won’t fucking lose it.

“I asked you a question, pretty boy.” Gentle.

I pried my eyes open. Whispered, “Y-yes.”

Something about seeing her like that, effortlessly in control, a Goddess hovering over me, powerful, commanding, the handler of a rabid animal—listen, I will take Darling however she comes to me. I love her so much, I’ll give her my ribs. I love her so much, it feels like it’s killing me, but I will lie in that grave if it means I can listen to her voice, be enveloped by the scent of her skin, taste her strawberry lip balm, but something about her being in control destroys me. I’m helplessly caught in the riptide of her existence, drawn to her like a moth to a flame. I will give you anything, my love. I am yours. My whole being is at the foot of your throne. I trust you to nurture and protect me more than I do my own blood.

Do with me what you please, my love.

It wasn’t for five heartbeats, wasn’t until I saw her eyes darken, that I realized I whispered it aloud.

The next one stung less than the first two. The one after unlocked some feral part of me that I didn’t know existed, and I bit the side of my hand to keep myself from screaming. Not out of pain, it was something else. Something reflexive, primal, felt like it was damn near under my diaphragm. I was too hot. I didn’t have any layers to remove, and the radiator was still out, so it should’ve been cold in the room, but I was burning up. The sinking, molten arousal in the pit of my stomach undulated and coiled with every strike until one of them, a random one—nothing special about it—set off stars in my vision and ripped a pathetic cry from my throat.

End note: this piece is truncated. The writing fatigue has thoroughly set in. I might write the rest of the scene at a later date.

That was the moment. That’s when the wires crossed.

Part II

[re-colligere]

The Gene Archives: All the Other Ships

More ship stuff, this time all the other guys that aren't fashion disaster <3

As per usual, warning for old ass art and a lot of images.

Fashion Disaster | General Art

I. BRICKSTAR

I think this was my second favorite ship next to Disear back then. I still find them pretty neat (and the 2nd movie certainly added fire to the flames, im sure) but funnily enough it's not in the forefront of my mind as much anymore. For personal headcanon reasons. Still think the dynamic's very fun.

II. JORILEY

um. APPARENTLY? ?? It was probably the heteronormative side of my head that somehow got attached to this average hwhite boy enough to ship him with Riley. I don't know how to feel about them now really...I think they're better as friends. Only half-related but I rewatched Riley's First Date? and that's STILL so funny to me I need more shorts like that actually. Please Pixar I'm begging on my knees I need to see other characters' emotions and stuff as the focus pleas please pleaseeeee

This last one very much doubles as a disear thing, but this gets to be here.

III. JOYNESS

They get to have their own section because I'm not normal about them now, and this disturbing lack of yuri is unacceptable. This is a reminder of my crimes I need to atone for. I'm so sorry women.

IV. THE OTHER SHIPS

Collection of other sillies that I didn't focus on too much, still think they're all adorable though :'] I think a majority of these were tumblr requests as well.

Sorry I did the "Anger pulling Fear's nose to kiss him" twice. I think it's still a fun way to get Fear's tall n lanky ass down to kiss mr. blockhead over there.

Also, Sadness x Sweaters is peak actually!!

V. FANKIDS

There's not that much I made... I drew more fusions than fankids, and I'm putting the fusions in a separate post because I didn't exclusively design them with romance as the starting point for the emotions. Also there's a lot of drawings and I kinda want to fluff up the "general" post with more thangs in there.

Unsurprisingly, it's mostly the disear fankids. Surprisingly, there's also tearnerve babies in here. ??

I've remade Revulsion in his own post, but he does have a little sister! I'm unsure of bringing her back. I probably will...

Good lird....the anxiety.............

[nhularin]

ENOUGH FOR YOU

PAIRING popular bf! sunghoon x f!reader GENRE angst no comfort, childhood friends to lovers to exes, highschool AU WARNING wonyoung hating sunghoon XTRA not as angsty as my other drabbles but..., not proofread, probably some grammar mistakes WC 1.3k series masterlist

june 2nd, 2002

"stop moping around and eat your sandwich"

wonyoung snickered, mac and cheese muffling her voice as your head laid restlessly on the metal ( probably dirty and oily) cafeteria table.

"like seriously, its been five days since he last messaged you. i always knew he was a jerk, pretty privilege is real! hes nothing but a ken doll with the way his words are filled with nonsense"

"leave him alone" you groaned, head still down, you could practically feel the acne screaming from underneath your skin "hes a nice guy, probably just busy"

"busy my ass, dont you see the way he literally follows that loser group like an overgrown chihuahua? if he can make time to buy booze for a bunch of 17 year olds then he can for sure make time for his amazing, smart and pretty girlfriend" wonyoung rolled her eyes as she stuffed bland coleslaw in her mouth

you looked up, dark bags adoring your face, you had been in a relationship with sunghoon since your freshman year. as children, you both had been inseparable ever since you moved to salt lake city, your bond growing stronger with each passing year. but now, as juniors, things felt different. he had recently joined the popular crowd, the same crowd you both used to talk shit about in between classes, and friday nights had become synonymous with parties and new faces.

tried so hard to be everything that you liked

the change had been gradual at first, but you couldn't help but notice how sunghoon had become the center of attention, attracting the gazes of both girls and sweaty boys alike. his charismatic smile and magnetic personality drew people towards him like moths to a flame, leaving you feeling like a mere extra and shadow in his presence.

but it was the encounters with the prettier, more popular girls that cut you to the core. you couldn't help but compare yourself to them, questioning if you were really deserving for sunghoon. the doubts grew louder with each unanswered message, as sunghoon seemed to drift further away.

you only sighed

"lets get this over with. you, pretty girl, find your ogre looking piece of shit of a boyfriend and im gonna stay at the entrance" wonyoung ordered sternly, her voice growing darker as she described your boyfriend

unable to bear the weight of uncertainty any longer and seeing you drown in the growing pool of self pity, wonyoung suggested going to the party where sunghoon tweeted where he was going to be at. maybe seeing him in person would provide some clarity. and so, you found yourself at the heart of the celebration, searching for a glimpse of the person who held your heart.

the night was filled with laughter and music as you stood in the midst of the crowded party. but amidst the lively atmosphere, a heavy sense of unease settled in your heart. you couldn't help but feel like a walking shell of sadness with the absence and lack of your boyfriend's warmth, your messages left unanswered for days dont make your overthinking self feel better either. the persistent doubt gnawed like an aggressive parasite in your mind, making you question if you were truly enough for him.

you found someone more exciting the next second, you were gone

it didn't take long for your eyes to land on him. sunghoon stood near the punch bowl, a radiant smile on his face as he engaged in a conversation with the head cheerleader joonhee. your heart sank at the sight, your fears of being replaceable seemingly coming true, his laughter and the way he touched her arm with familiarity stung deeply in your soul.

"1,2,3 breathe, 1,2,3 breathe" you whispered shakingly to yourself with closed eyes, trying to calm the storm inside of you

overwhelmed by heartache, you couldn't stand to witness any more. and so, running through the backdoor and through drunk teenagers, your breath came in ragged gasps as tears welled up slowly, refusing to fall, just like your pride. you couldn't bear to be in that suffocating environment any longer. the cool night air embraced you as you reached your car, parked in lee heeseungs empty suburb's parking lot.

as you sat in the car, your emotions overflowed, tears still threatened to fall freely as your soul filled with rage and betrayal. it was in that moment, surrounded by darkness and engulfed by doubt, that your vulnerability took hold. the floodgates of your emotions burst open, and a stream of tears cascaded down your cheeks. each tear held your deepest fears and insecurities, each sob a cry for validation and reassurance.

and you left me there cryin', wonderin' what I did wrong

"fucking shit" you sighed as incoming calls of wonyoung flooded your notifications. "should've listened to her, huh?" humorless laughter echoed in your crammy dark dimmed toyota. the silence was unbearable, fuelling the whispers in your head that you were not enough and you havent been good enough for him for a while. that you had lost sunghoon to someone who was prettier, much more interesting than you. but deep down, a glimmer of strength began to flicker within you

"why wasn't I enough?" you whispered, the words escaping your lips like a desperate plea. in the depths of your pathetic despair, you couldn't comprehend how you had fallen short, how you had failed to capture sunghoons attention and affection.

the car's small interior offered a temporary solace, shielding you from the actions of the world outside. the emptiness of the parking lot mirrored the emptiness you felt within, making the pain that coursed through your veins grow stronger. you gripped the steering wheel, your knuckles turning white as you tried to steady your trembling body (and if you were your friend, how you were going to run over your boyfriend)

but as the minutes ticked by, you began to actually listen to the daily "you're enough, you're enough. you deserve all the love and happiness in the world, from someone much better" mantra of your friend, realizing that your worth did not hinge on Sunghoon's approval.

you were more than just a measure of your relationship. you were a person with dreams, aspirations, and a heart that deserved to be cherished, regardless of whether it was by sunghoon or someone else.

with each tear that fell, a flicker of resilience ignited within you. screw him, you refused to let your doubts created by him define you. you refused to believe that you were not enough. slowly, you wiped away the tears, your reflection in the rearview mirror revealing tired and empty eyes

Taking a deep breath, you whispered to yourself, "I am enough, i am enough, i am enough. I am deserving of love and happiness." the words hung in the air, the words a combat fighting the doubts that had plagued your mind.

Don't you think I loved you too much to think I deserve nothing?

"and i deserve if from someone who values me" your voice cracked, dried tears threatening to fall again

as you started the car, the engine's purr resonated with newfound determination. you drove away from the empty parking lot, leaving behind the doubts and heartache that had consumed you. and as you navigated the darkened streets, a flicker of hope emerged, lighting your path towards self-discovery (having a midlife crisis at the ripe age of seventeen is normal, right?) and a love that would celebrate your true worth.

'Cause someday I'll be everything to somebody else

incoming messages!

wony (12 new messages, 3 unanswered calls)

hoonie <333 (3 new messages) OPEN

hoonie <333: i saw you at heeseungs

hoonie <333: its not what it looked like, yn

hoonie <333: you know i only love you

are you sure you want to block 'hoonie <333'?

PROCEED ✓ CANCEL

PERM TAGLIST @misokei @avocarua @sngvhs @essmarye @haechansbbg

SERIES' MASTERLIST @flwerfield @hyhees @mrchweeee @j1nniee @mikaluvsyouu @delulu4-life @mora134340 @beomsbeanie @leep0ems @cIphantom-hive @yla-aira @filmofhybe @nishik1

[ginxyy]

Bloody Valentine

I know I've got to go but I might just miss the flight i can't stay forever, let's play pretend And treat this night like it'll happen again You'll be my bloody valentine tonight

The air was thick with the scent of summer; it lingered on your skin like a favorite perfume, sweet and intoxicating. Your recent tour had taken you far and wide, but with each stop, your heart had been tugged in an unexpected direction, one that led straight to him—Wonwoo. It wasn’t official, not yet, but what had begun as casual meetings in quaint cafes and whispered secrets under starlit skies had bloomed into something more profound and exhilarating.

You had fallen head over heels for him, that quiet boy who wore his heart on the sleeve of his vintage band T-shirts. His dark, thoughtful eyes often danced with mischief as he laughed, and those rare moments where he let his guard down made your own heart flutter like the pages of a well-loved novel. Those evenings spent curled up in dimly lit rooms, sharing dreams and tastes in music, ignited a flame within you that felt both frightening and freeing.

As the golden hues of summer began to fade into the crispness of autumn, you found yourself grappling with the reality of your departure. Soon, life would pull you back into its chaotic rhythm, and you’d be miles away from the boy who had managed to break down the walls you had built around your heart. Each day drew closer to the moment you would board that plane, yet thoughts of him lingered like unpicked petals scattered on a sidewalk.

In a fit of inspiration and an ache in your heart, you decided to channel your feelings into something tangible. You reached for your electric guitar, the one that had been your companion through countless late-night jam sessions. As you strummed a few chords, the haunting melody of “Bloody Valentine” by MGK wrapped around you like a haunting embrace. It was a perfect way to encapsulate the bittersweet nature of your emotions.

After recording the video, you uploaded it to Instagram with a single, simple caption: "Even if the time we shared was limited, my love was true." There was something bold about putting your feelings out into the world, a testament to everything you’d experienced together, even if it felt impossibly fleeting. The last notes of the song resonated in your ears as you hit ‘post,’ a mix of anxiety and hope flooding through your veins.

As the hours passed, you tried to shake off the whispers of worry that fluttered at the back of your mind. What if he didn’t see it? What if he brushed it off like so many others had done? But in that quiet space of your heart, you knew—he would understand. He had to.

Moments later, your phone buzzed in a flurry. A comment from Wonwoo. Your heart raced as you opened the notification. “I saw your post. I’ll meet you at the airport.” Just five words, but wrapped in them was everything you wanted to hear and yet feared. Would this be it? The final goodbye wrapped in the hope of ‘I will see you again’?

Your heart thudded in your chest as you packed the last of your things, anxiety mingling with excitement. The airport loomed ahead, sprawling and bustling with life, yet all you could focus on was him. The thought that it might be the last time you saw him sent ripples of sadness curling in your stomach under the surface of uncertainty.

As you stepped through the automatic doors, the world outside blurred into a backdrop. You scanned the crowded terminal, heart racing as you fought against the tide of travelers. There he was, standing by the barrier, looking as striking as the first day you laid eyes on him. His hair slightly tousled in the summer breeze, he looked like art made tangible, and just like that, a sense of calm washed over you amidst the storm of emotions swirling in your heart.

“Wonwoo,” you breathed, and the space between you vanished as he wrapped his arms around you in a rush of warmth. Your body instinctively molded against his, heart hammering against your ribs. It felt as though all the music swirling in the air paused for just a moment, as if time had graced you with a second chance.

“I saw your video,” he murmured, pulling back slightly to meet your gaze. His eyes were intense, darkened by the weight of things left unsaid. “I rushed over when I did. I couldn’t let you leave without saying goodbye properly.”

The words sent a shiver through you. There was urgency in his tone, an undertone of desperation that mirrored your own. “I didn’t want to make it harder,” you replied, your voice softer than a whisper, “but there’s so much I wish I could say.”

“Then say it,” he urged, taking a step closer. “We don’t need to part like this, love. I want you to know that you’ve made this summer unforgettable for me. Even if it feels short, I’ll always carry this with me.”

The sincerity in his words hung between you like the music of your favorite song, reverberating through your very core. You both knew time wasn’t on your side, yet the connection you had forged felt significant an echo that would carry you through the distance.

“I fell in love with you,” you admitted, feeling the weight of truth lifted from your heart. “I wish I could stay, just one more night one more chance to create memories wrapped in the rhythm of our laughter.”

“Then let’s make a promise,” he said, his voice low and filled with emotion. “This isn’t goodbye forever. We will find a way. You’ll see I’ll never forget you. Not now, not ever.”

“And I’ll always carry you with me,” you promised, the reality of your fleeting time intertwining with a glimmer of hope. As you held him tightly, feeling the rhythm of his heartbeat against your own, a part of you knew that, even amidst the distance, you would find a way to let your love shine through the darkness.

“Take care of yourself, won’t you?” he murmured, as if afraid that the moment would slip away like sand through clasped fingers.

With a bittersweet smile, you nodded. “And you, too. Until we meet again, Wonwoo.”

As you stepped back, the world buzzed back into existence, but in that fleeting encapsulation of love and longing, you both remained suspended for just a moment longer, hearts echoing the promise you both silently made. Love, after all, was a melody that transcended distance. And you were both determined to let it play on, no matter how long the wait.

[minminyoonjii]

*based on an idea I saw, not my original idea*

A/B/O setting where one of the skz boys brings home the omega they have been courting to finally be part of the pack but pack traditions state that she becomes the whole packs omega instead of just the one member's. Therefore, the first time mating as a pack, all members need to be present and participate (or maybe whoever you see as an Alpha of the pack)

Maybe shy or even inexperienced reader? Like they quickly realized she doesn't know much about tradition?

Thank you ❤️

❤️Ultimate Masterlist

💜Rules and Guidelines

🕯Summary: The pack had grown closer to you throughout Jisung's courting and tonight's the night you get claimed as a pack member. The only problem was you didn't know what you were signing up for.

💛AN

This is my first A/B/O-themed fic, I hope I did well.

🌹CW

Cunnilingus|Oral Sex|Creampie|Multiple Orgasms|Oral Fixation|Bukkake|Praise Kink|Wet & Messy|Voyeurism|Knotting|Slow to Rough Sex|Virgin! Reader|Scenting|Bite Mark|Squirting|Aftercare

💌 This is a work of fiction, I by all means don't force ship anyone. They have the right to love whomever they want.

🍄Wordcount: 3.5K

There it stood, the door determining how your relationship turns out. You gulped, "Do they know we're coming?" you asked, fidgeting with your fingers. Jisung nodded, "Yup, they know," he said, watching your nervous figure. "Baby, they're going to love you," he added, rubbing your shoulders. You took in a deep breath, "I know," you whispered, staring at the pavement below. Jisung hummed, "This visit is the same as any other," he said, kissing your forehead. 

"Ji, what made you decide to court me?" you asked, knowing you were stalling. Jisung knew too, "Well, I just knew," he chuckled, holding you close. You rolled your eyes, "That's a shitty reason, Han Jisung," you grumbled, elbowing his stomach. Jisung laughed, not releasing his hold "Fine, fine. You drew me in, like a candle to a flame. I couldn't get my eyes off you, princess," he said, hooking his chin on your shoulder. 

You couldn't hold back your smile, "Alright, Mister poet. That made me feel better," you admitted, ruffling his hair. Jisung hummed, "I'm glad. Are you ready to head in?" he asked, rubbing your sides. You held your hands together, "Ready as I'll ever be," you said, walking towards the door. Jisung smiled, "That's good enough," he said, following behind you. You raised your arm, knocking on the door. It didn't take long before the front door swung open.

"Hello, little one. I hope you're hungry because Minho made dinner," Chan said, letting you in. "It smells so good in here," Jisung groaned, scampering to the kitchen. You giggled at your boyfriend's antics "Is our pup treating you well?" Chan asked, pulling out a chair. You took a seat, "Yes, more than well," you said, smiling at the loud scream coming from the kitchen. Chan chuckled, "That's good. We can talk about the pack details after dinner, there isn't a need to rush," he said, holding your hand.

You nodded, relaxing under his touch "Thank you," you whispered, feeling the anxiety in your chest subside. Jisung wrapped his arms around your neck "Princess, they're bullying me," he whined, rubbing his scent all over your face. You pursed your lips, letting yourself get smothered in rich honeysuckles. Chan held the back of Jisung's nape "Jisung, you're getting your scent everywhere," he chastised. Jisung huffed, submitting to Chan's hold. 

Your eyes widened, seeing Jisung submit so quickly "Woah," you whispered, drawing a chuckle from Chan. "Hyung, can you let me go now?" Jisung sulked, blood rushing up his neck. Chan released his grip, "Is this common for you?" he asked, looking at you with sympathy. You laughed, "Yeah, but it's fine Chan. Though I do have to say, almost every piece of clothing I own smells like him," you said, stroking Jisung's cheek. 

Minho gasped, carrying a variety of meats "Han Jisung," he said, setting the food on the table. Jisung whined, "Hyung, not you too," he said. Minho glared at him, "You scented the poor pup's closet." he said, passing the plates around the table. "With consent," Jisung mumbled, taking a seat next to you. Minho looked at you with the same sympathy "I'm so sorry about his behaviour," he said, placing the food on your plate. 

You shook your head, smiling "There's no need to be sorry, I allowed him to scent my clothes," you said, taking a bite of Minho's mashed potatoes. "You smell so much of Jisungie hyung, I can barely smell you, Noona," Jeongin said, handing you a glass of water. You gulped, "That's probably a good thing," you said, taking another bite. Chan furrowed his eyebrows, "Why's that?" he asked, placing some meats on your plate.

"My scent is a bit strong, is all," you said, tasting the meat Chan gave. Hyunjin chuckled, "All of our scents are strong," he said, sipping his water. You nodded, "That's true but my scent spikes at any emotion I give off. It's better to wear a scent blocker," you explained, trying the meat with cranberry sauce. "Scent blockers aren't good for you, little one," Chan said, putting his utensils down. "Yeah, but my side effects aren't the worst, just a little rash now and then," you said, ignoring the concerned gazes from the pack.

Warm citrus surrounded the table, like a thick syrup of comfort. You finished the last bit of your dinner, leaning against Jisung's shoulder. He kissed your hair, "They wouldn't mind your scent, princess," he whispered, taking a bite of his meal. You hummed, "I guess," you mumbled, closing your eyes. Jeongin poked Jisung's arm "What does Noona smell like?" he asked, tilting his head. Jisung chuckled, "See," he whispered, rubbing your back. 

You huffed your cheeks, blinking your eyes open. "I think it's best you ask her yourself, Innie," Jisung said, patting your arm. You gulped, "My scent smells like berry champagne," you said, answering Jeongin's question. Jeongin nodded, "That sounds sweet," he said, putting his utensils aside. You smiled, "Is it, but it can turn sour really quick," you said, sitting up. Jisung stacked your plate on his, "I'll bring these to the kitchen. Go pick out a seat in the living room and make yourself comfortable," he said, kissing your nose.

You wrinkled your nose, making your way to the living room. "Little one, could you sit here?" Chan asked, gesturing to the seat in front of him. You nodded, curling up into the seat. Chan smiled, handing you a pillow. You buried your face into the pillow, melting into the scent of tonka. 'Very suiting' you thought, taking note of Chan's scent. "Since everyone is here, this is our first official night with our new pack member," Chan said, patting your head as he spoke. 

You preened, excitement buzzing under your skin. "Congrats Noona, you're finally our pack's omega," Jeongin said, stroking your cheek. Your smile dropped, "What?" you asked, furrowing your eyebrows. Chan looked down at you, "What's wrong, pup?" he asked, tilting your chin towards him. Your lips parted, looking into his eyes "What does Jeongin mean about me being the pack's omega? Wouldn't I just be Jisung's?" you asked.

Chan furrowed his eyebrows, "Don't you know the traditions, little one?" he asked, keeping his hold under your chin. "Wh-what traditions? I wasn't raised in a pack," you explained, breath stuttering. Changbin tilted his head, "Are your parents rogue?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. You shook your head, "No, I just didn't grow up in a pack environment," you said, averting your gaze. "Are we the first pack you got involved with?" Chan asked, pumping out his scent to calm you down. 

You nodded, taking deep breaths of Chan's scent. "Poor pup probably doesn't even know what she got herself into," Minho said, brushing your hair from your face. "Am I going to die?" you whimpered, heart pounding within your chest. Chan chuckled, "Of course not, little one. The tradition isn't a sacrifice," he reassured, wiping your stray tears. "Oh," you sighed, wrinkling your nose. "Have you ever mated with anyone during your heats, angel?" Hyunjin asked, looking at you. 

Blood rushed up your neck to your ears, "No, I usually wait it out," you said, feeling your face burn up. "You didn't try to ease the pain?" Felix asked, leaning against Hyunjin's chest. You whined, "I did, but I'd always lose my rhythm," you said, fading into a mumble. Felix cooed, "Aren't you adorable," he purred, leaning forwards. You looked at Felix then back up at Chan "What does the tradition have to do with my heat?" you asked, not knowing how to feel about Felix's stare. 

Chan sighed, releasing his hold on your chin "Pup, I need you to listen to the words I'm about to say and consider them carefully after. Can you do that for me?" he asked, running his fingers through your hair. You keened, deep purrs rumbling from the touch. Chan cooed, "I need a verbal answer, little one," he whispered, stroking your cheek. You shivered, furrowing your eyebrows at the sudden mind-numbing fuzz clouding your thoughts "Yes, alpha," you whispered, nodding at his command.

"Good girl," Chan smiled, letting you rest your cheek on his palm. You nipped the pad of his hand, licking right after. Chan chuckled, "You can scent my wrists, little one," he said, gently brushing his free hand on your scent gland. You growled, raising your shoulders in defence. Chan kept his eyes on yours as he rubbed the scent blocker off. You whimpered, biting into his palm in retaliation. Chan clenched his jaw, making sure the suppressor is gone from your skin. 

Sour champagne filled the room in waves, the tart scent of berries hitting the back of everyone's throats. Chan pumped out his own scent, hoping it would defuse the situation but it only made it worst. You gasped, eyes widening as you tried to catch your breath. Soft wheezing and stuttered breathing squeaked from your frame. "Fuck. Bin the windows, Min the ventilation," Chan instructed, airing out the scent-congested room. 

"You're safe, little one. Alpha knows it's a lot, but you're alright," he said, taking note of the subtle red spots on your neck. You whined, covering your neck in hopes that your scent would just disappear. Chan gruffed, gently removing your hands away "There's no need to feel distressed, pup," he said, kneeling in front of you. Thoughts spun through your head, "Why are you kneeling, alpha?" you asked, adding more questions than answers. 

Chan looked up at you, baring his neck. You gasped, taking in deep shallow breaths. "I know you want to scent someone, little one. Get it out of your system and scent whoever you want. The suppressions can cause your scent to build up, making it more concentrated than it's supposed to be," he explained, watching as you take in each word he said. You bit into your bottom lip "Can I?" you whispered, purrs rumbling within your chest. 

Chan nodded "Go ahead, little one," he said, not expecting your sudden weight on him. He grunted, wrapping his arms around your waist as you straddled his lap. You mewled, scuffing against Chan's neck. "That's it, good girl," he whispered, tilting his neck further. You whimpered, head spinning from the way your scent mixed with his. Deep tobacco notes from his tonka scent mingling with your refreshing berry champagne scent felt right. 

"It smells like an after-party in here," Changbin pointed out, melting into his seat. Jisung chuckled, "Intoxicated already, hyung?" he teased, wrapping his arms around Changbin's. "Definitely," he said, pressing his tongue against his inner cheek. You panted, pulling your face away from Chan's neck. "Feeling better, pup?" he asked, taking note of your dilated pupils. You nodded, catching your breath. Chan cooed, "You smell so sweet, little one," he said, scratching under your jaw.

You purred, baring your neck for him. Chan chuckled, "Such a good omega," he praised, removing his hand. You whined, squirming on Chan's lap. "Little one, you don't know what you're doing," he gritted, holding your waist still. You squinted your eyes, breath hitching when you felt something twitch beneath you. Chan sighed, "Look at me, pup," he said, redirecting your attention. You looked at him, his hair tussled and messy from your scuffs. 

"The tradition isn't anything scary, I promise. I just have to claim you," Chan said, watching you regain your bearing. "How?" you asked, tilting your head. Chan rubbed your stomach, "Have you watched anything sexual before, little one?" he asked. You nodded, "I have. Is Alpha going to have sex with me?" you asked, playing with his fingers. Chan chuckled, "That's pretty blunt but yes," he said, moving his fingers within your hold. 

You gruffed, bringing his fingers to your mouth "Is it going to hurt?" you asked, nipping his index finger. Chan frowned, pressing two fingers into your mouth "Of course not, it's never supposed to hurt unless you want that on purpose," he said. You pulled his hand away "Oh, I always thought it was supposed to hurt," you mumbled, nuzzling Chan's palm. "There's so much you have to learn, little one. Do you mind if I teach you?" he asked, stroking your cheek. You gulped, "Okay," you said, biting your bottom lip out of nervousness. 

Chan kissed your nose, "Don't worry, pup. I'll take my time with you," he said, laying on your back. You yelped at the sudden shift, feeling a pillow perfectly placed under your head. Jisung smiled, stroking your cheek "Channie hyung is going to take great care of you, princess. If you need him to stop, say red. Okay?" he said, rubbing your abdomen. You nodded, spreading apart your thighs. Jisung chuckled, "That's our sweet omega," he said, kissing your forehead.

You whined, feeling a familiar throb from your core "It hurts," you whispered, clawing into the fur carpet beneath you. Chan lifted your hips, tugging off your skirt "Alpha knows, little one," he said, removing your slicked panties. You shivered, clenching around the chilling air. The scent of boiled-down champagne filled the whole room, thick slick coated your folds. Chan groaned, positioning himself between your legs "Absolutely gorgeous," he rasped, kissing down your inner thighs.

You shuddered, wanting to close your legs but Chan held them down " Alpha, pl-please," you keened, not knowing what you were begging for. Chan hummed, placing a soft kiss on your clit. You squeaked, flinching your arms to your chest. Chan chuckled, "So sensitive," he whispered, flicking the tip of his tongue against your clit. You gasped, bringing your arms closer to your body. "Alpha," you whimpered, arching your back at the stimulation.

Chan growled, making broad strokes between your slicked folds. You moaned, arousal building in your abdomen. Chan groaned, savouring the thick globs of champagne hitting his tongue "Fucking hell, little one," he cursed, slurping up your slick without an ounce of shame. You cried, sensitivity washing over you, "Al-alpha, I'm scared," you whimpered, feeling the coil within you tighten. Chan cooed, kissing your pulsing pussy "Don't be afraid and let go, pup," he rasped, lapping up your slick with more vigour.

"H-hgh," you whined, squirming from Chan's tongue. Chan growled against your sensitive nub, drawing a silent scream from your lips. You mewled, arching your back "Alpha!" you wailed, squirting your arousal. Chan moaned, head clouding with lust "Good omega, squirting all over your alpha," he praised, pulling away from your throbbing core. You stared at Chan with half-lidded eyes. Chan smiled, brushing back his slick drenched hair. "Fuck, hyung. I think I just came in my pants," Hyunjin said, palming his hardened cock. 

You sniffled, "Alpha," you whimpered, making grabby hands towards Chan. "Aww, are you feeling alright, pup?" he asked, smothering your face in kisses. You nodded, burying your face into the crook of his neck. Chan chuckled, baring his neck "You're doing so well, little one," he praised. You purred, letting his scent envelop your senses. Chan smiled, gently removing himself from your hold. You hummed, content with the warm fuzzy feeling. Chan stood up, tugging off his sweatpants and boxers together.

Felix whistled, "A full course meal," he teased, staring at Chan's length. Seungmin sighed, "Pixie, stop disturbing Chan hyung and come here," he said, spreading his legs. Felix giggled, kneeling between Seungmin's thighs. Chan shook his head, a smile etched on his lips "I hope your libido is controllable, little one," he said, booping your nose. You giggled, biting your lower lip as Chan came closer to your core. He slicked his fingers in your arousal, "I'll go slow, pup," he said, pushing his finger to his second knuckle. 

You whimpered, rolling your hips to his thrusts. Chan hummed, "Can you take another?" he asked, rubbing your clit in tandem. You nodded, "Yes, yes, yes pl-please," you begged, clenching his finger. Chan chuckled, slipping another finger beside the first "Good girl, just relax for me," he cooed, stretching your tight walls. You mewled, digging your nails into the carpet. Chan another a third finger, working you open for his hung cock. You moaned, whimpering whenever he curled his fingers against your g-spot. 

"I think you're ready, little one. Do you need me to stretch you further?" he asked with four fingers spreading your semi-gaping hole. You shook your head, sweat beading your forehead "Need alpha n-now please," you stuttered, getting impatient from waiting. Chan shuddered, using your slick to coat his cock "Alpha's got you, pup," he said, lining up his cock head with your pussy. "Please," you whimpered, making eye contact with him through your half-lidded eyes. Chan growled, pressing his cock within your walls. 

You mewled, letting Chan push your legs closer to your body with each inch he eased in "So big," you slurred, purring at the feeling of being filled. Chan groaned, pressing his forehead against yours "You're still so fucking tight, little one," he cursed, rolling his hips. You gasped,  soft moans spilling past your lips "Fa-faster," you stuttered, cupping Chan's chest with your hands. Chan grunted, "As you wish, pup," he rasped, quickening his tempo. You keened, melting under his deep thrusts.

Chan growled, fucking into your warm walls with tender thrusts "Taking me so fucking well," he gritted. You whimpered, "Alpha, alpha, alpha" you slurred, pleasure fogging your every thought. Chan pressed his lips to yours, pulling you into a deep kiss. You moaned into the kiss, deep purrs rumbling within your body. Chan chuckled against your lips, quickening his rhythm. Your breath hitched within the kiss, accidentally clenching your walls around Chan's cock. "F-fuck," he groaned, throwing his head back. 

Your skin prickled at his raw groan, sending goosebumps down your arms. Chan shuddered, regaining his bearing "My god, little one. I don't I can hold back anymore" he said, rutting his hips. "Then don't. Please alpha, don't hold back," you pleaded, wrapping your legs around his waist. Breathy moans escaped Chan's lips. "Do as the princess says," Jisung rasped, stroking Changbin's cock in tandem with Chan's slow ruts. Chan felt himself losing composure, "Okay, if anything happens say red and I'll stop, pup," he said, hooking your legs over his shoulders.

You nodded, "Okay, alpha. Pl-please fuck me hard," you sniffled, heat spreading under your skin. Chan growled, staring at the subtle bulge appearing with each drag of his cock within your hole. "Please," you whimpered, staring up at him. With that, the remaining composure Chan held left. He pulled out slightly, drawing a loud whine from you, only to fuck you in one quick thrust. You choked on your whine, sputtering as Chan fucked you in a hungry daze. "Alpha!" you wailed, arching your back.

Chan gruffed, nosing your neck while keeping his unrelenting pace. You sobbed, tears streaming down your cheeks at the constant pleasure setting your nerves on fire. Chan grunted, feeling his knot grow with each thrust. You bared your neck for him "Chan!" you wailed, pushing against his thrusts. Chan clenched his jaw, reaching his hand down to rub your swollen clit "Are you close, little one?" he asked.

Your body tensed up, bundling parts of the carpet into your palm "So so cl-close," you choked up, quivering under Chan's mercy. Chan picked up his tempo, fucking his knot into your walls. You cried out, feeling his knot stretch your walls further. Chan grunted, "Cum for me, omega," he commanded, fucking his knot into your pussy. "F-fuck!" you cursed, cumming around Chan's cock. "Fuck," Chan groaned, nosing your neck as his knot locked itself within you. 

He kissed up your nose, "Relax omega," he whispered, sinking his teeth into your scent gland. You mewled, writhing under his hold. Chan growled against your skin as your walls flutter around his knot. He rolled his hips and with one last powerful thrust, his knot snapped. A copious amount of semen filled your pussy. Chan pulled off your scent gland, "You're ours now," he growled, licking the mark. You purred, milking every last drop of his cum. 

Chan shifted your legs off his shoulders, "There's one more thing you have to do, pup," he whispered. Jisung stroked your hair, "This will be quick, princess," he said, cumming on your torso. One by one they came on you, coating their scents on your body. You giggled, tasting the citrus scent you smelled from the dining table. Chan cooed, finding you endearing "Our little omega," he said, scooping the cum for you to taste. You parted your lips, sucking Chan's cum slicked fingers till there was nothing left. 

Minho tapped Chan's shoulder, "Wipe her down, we'll get the bath ready," he said, handing Chan a wet towel. You preened under Chan's gentle touches. "The pack's bed is ready, there are clothes from everyone if you want to nest, princess," Jisung said, wiping the cum off your hair. You nodded, barely able to open your eyes. Chan chuckled, "Such a sweet and sated little one," he said, stroking your cheek. You gave him a dopey smile, "Thank you, alpha," you slurred, exhaustion catching up to you. Chan cooed, "It's our pleasure," he said.

[ryleigh130]

Frostbite- - - ryleigh130

Summary- reader gets hypothermia on a mission and the boys help warm them up.

Relationships- platonic!taskforce 141 & gn!reader

Characters- cap. price, soap, ghost, gaz.

Word count- 2.2k

Warnings- hypothermia, profanity, 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself], usage of c/n [code name/call sign].

Note- This is my first ever fanfiction written on here so please leave me suggestions on how to improve! This story is inspired by the creator @python333 so go and check out their work it’s absolutely amazing! If you would like to leave a request for me to do a specific prompt feel free to message me! That’s it, thank you and I hope you enjoy! <33

It’s. Fucking. Cold. The three words repeat in your mind over and over again as you consider voicing your complaints to the team for what had to be the 8th time in the last 30 minutes. You couldn’t help it, it was cold. Freezing actually, you and the others were assigned a mission in the middle of butt fuck nowhere Siberia so excuse you for being cold.

To make matters worse for you, you’re the only 141 member currently suffering the biting cold as you were the one who drew the short end of the stick and got put on sniper duty whilst the others get to enjoy the warmth of actually being in the building they’re trying to get the info from.

With that thought, you sigh and shift your position slightly from where you are laying looking through the scope on your M107. It wouldn’t be so bad if you were actually moving around but instead, you’ve been laying in the same position, in the snow, for around 3 hours and you’re starting to loose feeling in your fingers and toes.

“[c/n], how copy” your radio sparks to life as the gruff, British accent of your Captain comes through.

“Still fucking cold, are we almost done here? I’m freezing my balls off out here” you groan, tentatively flexing your fingers trying to spark life back into them.

A low chuckle is heard over the radio as you can practically hear Price roll his eyes from where he is positioned, “you’ve mentioned. But yes, as soon as Soap plants the bombs we should be good to go. How’s it looking Soap?” A clicking can be heard over the radio when suddenly the loud, Scottish voice of John “Soap” MacTavish booms through,

“Aye Cap’n, jist aboot done” you hear another click and a hushed exclaim of victory, “Aw set!” You practically let out a cry of relief at the thought of going back to the safe house and getting warm,

“Took you long enough!” Gaz’ teasing voice pipes up before promptly getting shut up,

“Oh shut it you bawbag” Soap’s voice is light as you hear their footsteps going down the halls to escape the building. You watch through the scope of your rifle making sure to keep an eye out for any rouge enemies that might be hanging around the building the team was gathering the info from. You see Gaz leave the building first, followed by Price and finally Soap. You frown slightly, waiting a few moments before radioing,

“Ghost, how copy” you wait a few seconds before radioing in again, this time sounding more worried, “Ghost, ho-“ before you could finish your sentence, Ghost’s voice, accompanied by the sounds of gunshots filter through

“Solid copy.” He grunts out “I’ve got a few on my tail now but I’m taking care of it” you hear more gunshots as you look through your scope trying to spot Ghost’s form. Suddenly, an alarm rings through the building, you watch as dozens of enemy soldiers flood into the building your team once occupied,

“Fuck Ghost, incoming” you manage to warn before you hear Price’s loud and commanding voice boom,

“Ghost! Get out of there now! We need to detonate this thing now!” You hear Ghost reply with a short grunt. You watch as Ghost’s body runs out from the quickly populating building spraying round after round at accompanying enemies following. You try and help the best you can picking off as many enemies as possible before you hear Soap’s shout,

“CLEAR!” And with that, the building goes up in flames. You duck your head from where you’re positioned to avoid the ash and debris from the burning building,

“All Bravos, how copy?” You hear Price’s voice through the slight ringing of your ears,

A chorus of “Solid, copy”’s respond to the Captain, including your own as you begin to pack your weapon up to head out.

“Brilliant, alright everyone good work. Let’s regroup at the safe house 5 clicks from this position.” A murmur of approvals ring through the coms as you absentmindedly hum your approval and mute your radio. You finish packing up your gear when you hear a twig snap somewhere close by. You perk up and draw your M18 from where it’s positioned in the small holster on your thigh. As quiet as a mouse you sneak through the snowy brush to where the noise originated, peaking through the tree line your heart sinks to the bottom of your stomach as you see a squadron of about 9 soldiers approaching your position.

Fuck me. You practically groan, you know you won’t be able to take them all down at the same time so you do the only sensible option, you run. Expertly navigating through the snowy taiga, you run, duck, and jump over the obstacles in front of you. You can hear the pounding of footsteps behind you and the whizzing of bullets flowing past your body, barely missing their target. You run until your lungs burn and your eyes water from the cold air. You look around seemingly cornered by the enemy soldiers and the barren landscape when you spot it. A frozen over lake and possibly your one chance at survival, without a chance to second guess yourself, you’re running towards the lake. You hear yelling in the distance followed by more gunshots as you continue towards the lake. You reach the shoreline and tentatively put your body weight on the ice, judging by the fact it didn’t immediately crack, you take the risk and start sliding toward the other side. Luckily you are small and light enough to be able to tread across the slippery surface. You look over your shoulder to see the soldiers staring at you and continuing to try and shoot you. Before you could react, a stray bullet embeds into the icy surface and a loud crack and be heard. You look down in terror as the ice begins to crack and splinter. With a new objective in mind, you quicken your pace to the reach the other side of the frozen lake.

It’s too late. You’re about 3/4ths of the way when the ice suddenly relents under your weight and you get plunged into the deep icy depths of the water. The icy water causes your body to immediately freeze and jolt in pain as the below freezing water feels like pins and needles getting pushed into your skin slowly. You sink toward the bottom of the frozen pool before your mind catches up with your body and a gasp of air leaves your mouth. You’re choking on the icy water as you struggle against the cold, slowly and painfully you make your way back towards the surface. Your head emerges from the water first, then followed by your hands as you desperately try and grab onto something to be able to drag yourself out of the water. You can’t get a grip on the slippery surface causing you to gasp and sink back into the water, kicking your feet one final time you propel yourself out of the water and onto the ice. With the last bit of your remaining energy you fling yourself to the safety of solid ground on the other side of the lake.

You lay on the snowy ground shivering violently. You look out at the side of the lake where you came from and notice the soldiers were gone, must’ve thought I was a goner, you think bitterly. You don’t have time to reminisce on it as the wind picks up and reminds you that you are currently shivering, wet, and unable to feel your own body. Weakly, you try and turn on your radio to signal for help. You almost cry when you realize it’s gone, you must’ve lost it when you fell in. Coughing violently, you shakily get on your feet, stumbling once, then twice, you manage to stand and take unsteady steps towards where you assume the safe house should be.

The hike takes longer than it should’ve as you continuously stumbled and fell, taking longer than you care to admit to get back up and continue. It’s around 1700 judging by the just setting sun, when the small cabin comes into view. You almost weep in relief when you see it, you pick up your pace into a small run and, promptly fall down face first into the snow. You lay in the snow no longer shivering as your body begins to shut down, No! Not like this, I’m right there! You feel yourself thinking. You feel as if you hear a noise that resembles a door opening and voices yelling but you chalk that up to your imagination as your vision slowly fades into black. With one last tired breath you close your eyes and let the warmth take over you.

When you wake up, you’re burning, and not in a nice way. You feel as if your skin is on fire and is about to melt off your bones. It hurts, painfully so and you make sure to vocalize your discomfort with a pained screech. You try moving your body away from the burning heat but your muscles won’t respond to your brain so you can do nothing more then just let out pained screeches as tears flow down your face. Faintly you can hear hushed voices trying desperately to soothe you but you’re too out of it to notice. With one last screech you black out, in the back of your head you feel as if you can feel a hand card through your hair.

When you wake up again, the pain is still there but significantly lessened. You can feel yourself lying on what you assume to be a mattress with possibly the fluffiest blanket you’ve ever felt on top of you. You try opening your eyes, the light took adjusting to but after a moment you are able to look around the room where you are laying in. Almost immediately you spot the sleeping form of Captain John Price, he’s leaning back in the old wooden chair he’s on with his mouth open in a soft snore. His hand is laying on your covered leg comfortably, he looks tired and worried like he hasn’t slept in a good while. You look around the room trying to figure out where you are before you make yourself known. With a small clearing of your throat Price violently jerks awake and stares at you for a moment before he moves into action,

“Jesus Christ you’re awake!” He states as he starts to worry over you. He gently takes his hand and puts it over your forehead, frowning at what he feels, he moves toward yours eyes. With a flashlight he checks your eyes and nods once before setting the flashlight back aside. Once he finishes his initial exam, he surges forwards and wraps you in a tight embrace,

“NEVER do that again, you hear me?!” He started firmly, his voice laced with clear worry and concern. You chuckle lowly and rasp out,

“My bad, next time I wanna take a quick dip in the pool I’ll wait until summer.” This obviously was the wrong response as Price fixes you with a firm glare,

“I’m serious [c/n]! Do you have any idea how worried we were! First, you were MIA for 2 hours! Then, you show up DRENCHED in −5 °C weather! And THEN, we find you face down in the bloody snow! [y/n] we thought you were dead!” He scolds. You look down with a light blush of shame tinting your cheeks but before you could apologize, the door slams open causing you and Price to jump. In rushes both Soap and Ghost as they storm over to your bedside. Soap grabs your hand and holds it to his face,

“Steamin Jesus kid, ye gave us quite the scare there.” He says into your palm, Ghost approaches his side and stares at you in worry,

“How are you feeling?” He asks. You open your mouth to respond when suddenly footsteps echo through the hall and Gaz comes barreling into the room.

“[c/n]!” He rushes to your bedside and pulls you into a tight hug,

“Gaz! Quit it! Ye gonna hurt the lad” Soap scolds immediately as Gaz pulls away sheepishly with a muttered apology. You take a moment to gather your thoughts before looking back up at the team you consider family.

“M’sorry” you mutter out, tears threatening to fall, “they- they came so quickly and and I tired to run but I couldn’t lose ‘em so I tried to cross the lake but then they shot at it and I fell in and itwassocold-“ your rambling coming to a stop when a firm hand lands on your shoulder. You look up to see Price, Ghost, Gaz, and Soap staring at you with an unreadable expression.

“Hey, hey kid. It’s ok, it’s ok. You’re safe now” Price soothes gently. “It’s gonna be alright we’re here.” He continues giving you a soft look. You nod looking at your shaking hands when suddenly clothed hands cover your own. You look at Ghost as he warms your still cold hands with his own, you feel a hand in your hair and smile as you lean into Price’s touch. Soap and Gaz bring up a chair next to your bedside and sit close to you, protectively shielding your body from further harm. With the team you consider family so close to you, you give into your quickly tiring eyes and fall into a deep, comfortable sleep.

[devilmayfamily]

Can I request a shy S/O who has a crush on Vergil/Dante/V and they draw the boys secretly in their sketchbook with little notes like "saw him in those dark blue jeans again he's so beautiful" or "how do I tell him I love him?" etc. The boys stumble upon this and they're so flattered they blush to their chest.

Why is this literally me lol. Hope you enjoy!

Dante

Your sketchbook was filled with sketches of him mostly during training since it was the only time his focus couldn't ver towards you at any given moment

You've indirectly gotten better at drawing action poses and the male torso because of this and the fact that this man goes full Grey Fullbuster and takes off his shirt to train

The other time you're able to draw him is when he's asleep, a magazine covering his face

One particular position you found him laying in had you write a note of "Idk how he's sleeping like this" next to the sketch of it.

Dante has noticed you with this sketchbook and hadn't thought anything of it until he realized he never sees you drawing him in it

His curiosity got the better of him one day and decides to take a look while you left it unattended.

The first few pages were as he expected, sketches of Shadow when she was around, the girls of the team, and even some of the orphanage kids playing from when you would visit Nero and Kyrie

Towards the middle of the book, he found all the sketches of him you'd been hiding

He looks over every single one and reads all the little notes you've left behind

He finds the whole idea of you sketching him cute and endearing

Seeing a particular sketch of him asleep, face facing you, with the note "He looks like he gives nice cuddles" has his face a flame, red tracing all the way down his neck

You drew this scared up man so soft, it was like he was looking at someone else

Vergil

You find going unnoticed by Vergil to be easy

He's always either reading or beating up Dante when not on missions

Vergil finds your sketchbook when he mistakes it for his collection of poems on a particularly sleepy morning

Opening it, he's taken back by all the drawings

It's obvious you have some skill

As he turns the page, he finds an entire spread dedicated to him reading

At the very bottom of the page it reads "he's always reading this thing, i wonder what secrets it holds"

Vergil softly smiles, a faint heat resting across his cheeks wondering if he could share a piece of himself with someone again

He was ready, wasn't he?

Flipping the page he finds a spread dedicated to him cooking, fighting, even simply being dressed up in a suit

"I'll admit, he's sexy in a suit"

Vergil's face sets a flame, the man shutting the sketchbook and replacing it finally with his poems

You become curious by the new sets of suits in the coming days but never complain

V

Griffon stole the sketchbook when you left it unattended

He scolds the bird for digging in your private processions but with a little coaxing from Griffon he looks inside

He's not surprised to see sketches of Shadow and Griffon, the bird boasting about how good he looked

As he turns the page, Griffon teases him for the bright pink blush that spreads across his face upon seeing sketches of himself

"My beautiful muse" is written in a beautiful cursive next to a sketch of V smiling

He flips the page expecting to find something different but it's more drawings of him

"May he ever know how he sets my heart a burning"

V can't help but adore you right then

He smiles, closing the sketchbook as you approach

He looks up to you, his smile causing one to spread across your own face

Griffon makes some comment about leaving you two to it before disappearing

[number-onekidqueen]

𝐌𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐅𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐞

Based on Moth to a Flame by the Weeknd & Swedish House Mafia

Post-tlt!Luke x Apollo!fem!reader

Angst - 3.1k

warnings: suggestive themes, Steve is a warning 💀, reader is cheating with Luke, SPOILERS FOR THE LIGHTNING THIEF AND A TINY BIT OF SEA OF MONSTERS.

It wasn’t him. 

That was all you could think about as your boyfriend kissed you passionately in front of the whole camp. Sure, he was an excellent kisser, but it wasn’t as nice as it could’ve been. 

If it was him, he would’ve known to leave the breathtaking kisses for private. Known that you hated to make a scene. Would’ve put your comfort before his lusty need to kiss you-

You couldn’t think that. He was evil. And he had hurt your terribly. You refused to say his name even now, six months after his departure. He had left you and betrayed the whole camp and was conspiring with Titans, trying to start a war. 

Steve…. Wasn’t like that. 

You liked him. He was nice and treated you like you should be treated. He was a spectacle to be around. 

You still remembered all the drama from when he’d first asked you out. It was a story, all right, just like Steve liked.  

You hadn’t been in a great place then. You cried every night over him - you still did - you avoided the Hermes cabin like it was a plague, and you just felt numb and empty every day. 

And then he’d asked you out. Steve was from the Ares cabin, and after he had left, the red team had been having a lot of luck with winning Capture the Flag. 

It had been another one of Steve’s victories, and he’d been triumphantly waving the flag around before he passed it to his teammate, and drew the camp’s attention.  

“So, thanks to me, we get the best chores, best privileges. Thanks Chiron.” And Ares cabin roared as Chiron nodded awkwardly. “Still, I want one more thing. I have to have one more prize. Her. I’d like to ask y/n l/n to be my girlfriend.”

And your friends had talked about this for a while before, how they seemed to just know Steve had a crush on you - even though you couldn’t see it - and how they thought you guys would be perfect together. And how it would help you get over him. 

You said yes. 

And it was a fairytale from there. 

Every time he won Capture the Flag, (which was every week just about) he’d pick you up and spin you round, kissing you. It became a tradition, a victory kiss. And they were long, burning, breathless kisses, and he would continue even when you tired and stopped. He was passionate that way, all about making your pulse quicken. But not as much as did when he-

At dinners in the pavilion, you would share a peck before every meal while you queued. He was always next to you, and although it was kinda dull having him dismiss your friends so he could talk to you privately, at least you had the company right? And you always shared your extra food with him when he was hungry, and sometimes he would try to feed you sandwiches teasingly, which everyone cooed at. You wished they wouldn’t-

On weekend nights, you’d come back with him to Ares cabin secretly, and he’d make out with you in his bed, telling you he deserved his girlfriend after a long and hard week. And you would kiss and kiss and kiss and your lips would be swollen, your head would be spinning and people would roll their eyes and talk about how stupidly in love the pair of you were. 

Like a fairytale. 

Except, it had a bit of a twist. When he finally tired of your body and lips, and let out a few gentle snores, then you would escape. 

You started the habit the first time you couldn’t sleep after one of your make out sessions. 

It was idiotic, but you couldn’t fight the way you were still loyal to the traitor you had called your lover, how you felt sick to the stomach each time you felt Steve’s arms around you, tighter and more cage-like than his had ever been. You couldn’t fight the way your mind flitted between the two boys, comparing and contrasting between them to the detail, draining you of your sanity as the night stretched on. Hypnos didn’t bless you with rest, and you cursed the god that had ever created overthinking. 

You’d walked out, your arms huddled around you like his should be, and you stumbled in the cool darkness all the way to the beach. 

And in the obscurity of the night, you would let your heart break properly, as completely as it needed to. You would sin, become the villain of your own fairytale. 

You would whisper his name, over and over and over, as you would tell him everything that had happened to you. Every event that had transpired since he left. Eventually, you’d bring old Polaroids of the pair of you you’d hidden away, and an old flickering torch to view them with. A lot of the time you simply sobbed your heart out, whispering his name again and again into the sands, this beach the only place you could ever continue to love him. 

Usually, you were out for a while, bathing in your midnight misery, sometimes until Apollo deigned to let the Sun give light to the sky. 

It wouldn’t make you happier. 

Once everything was visible, occasionally you stared at the ocean, spotting the distant specks that were ships. You wondered if any of them were his, stupid Princess Andromeda, with all the horrifying monsters aboard you’d heard about. 

It was torture, thinking like that. That he was one call away, that you might scream across the waves and he would hear, and yet you were worlds apart. 

Once the sunshine heated your skin, you would drown your love in the daylight, and head back to Steve, your… lover. 

It was an awful, unhealthy routine. You knew that, and felt so many tremendous ways about it. 

But it was also beautiful in a painful way you’d grown to love. 

It was much the same tonight. 

Relief like a tsunami washing over you, as you began to feel the sleepy inhales and exhales of your boyfriend. The fifteen minutes it took you to softly slip out of his embrace unnoticed, and how they dribbled by slowly. A quick check for harpies, a speedy walk to the beach down the faint path your careful steps had created. 

Than the silence. 

Agonising, serene silence. 

The stars would hear his name again, as you spoke, the only witnesses to your traitorous actions. 

You’d only said his name once, listening as it faded into the sounds of the night, the chirping of insects and breeze in the trees. 

Crunching footsteps disturbed the peaceful aura. 

Instantly, you were on your guard, cursing yourself for lacking in a weapon. No matter how heavy the clunky torch was, it would be no match for fangs or talons. You held it up regardless, circling around on your feet as you searched for the source of the sound. 

“Is that a torch? Man, I’m outta here.”

You might’ve died. Your heart stopped. Your breath caught. Everything inside you froze. 

It was him. 

Him. 

Your torch lowered as he approached, the moon casting a holy glow on his face and distinct scar. 

He looked exactly as you remembered. 

Tall, lean, eyes deep, dark and entrancing, curls the rich colour of cocoa. 

Handsome as Adonis-

No. You raised your torch again, as you reminded yourself who this boy was, what he had done to you. No, you did not trust him, even if you missed him. 

“It’s me. I’m not here to hurt you,” he reassured, approaching you softly as if you were the dangerous one, “you don’t have to be on guard.”

Being you isn’t enough anymore, you wanted to scream. 

“What are you here for then? Are you planning some attack at camp?” You asked instead, horrified. 

“What are you out here for? Are you planning to join me?” He whispered back, smirking. 

“I- no, no. I could never do what you’ve done- what you do, no-“

“Yeah, yeah, I’m horrendous, I get it,” he interrupted, impatient, “but you’re still out here. And you were saying my name.”

The last sentence was almost… sensitive and hopeful. You didn’t like the way that vulnerability made you feel. 

“I did not. I have not said your name since the day you left, the day you betrayed us.” You denied, shaking your head and backing away from him. He followed you, even as you feet moved left and right. 

“Please, stop,” you begged, scared now as he continued to step where you stepped. 

“No, I came back for you,” his expression and voice changed, no longer smug and smirky. He was desperate, genuine. “There hasn’t been a day I haven’t thought of you. I still love you, y/n, and the biggest mistake of my life was leaving you here.”

Your eyes welled at his words. This was all you’d ever wanted to hear. 

“You can’t just say that, you- you-“ your voice broke, and you finally stopped your retreat as your back hit a tree. “You left me for six months. You can’t just come back randomly, if you loved me you wouldn’t have left and-“

There was only a foot between the two of you. And it was rapidly closing, each steady footstep bringing you nose to nose. You couldn’t stop it, and you didn’t want to. 

“I-I- what are you doing, I can’t do this, whatever this is- I have a boyfriend and um, what-“

Your foreheads were almost touching. He was frowning, your guess was at the mention of Steve. Your eyes met, and you glanced away, knowing if you met his gaze once more you would give into anything he requested. 

“If you loved your boyfriend,” he breathed, each word becoming hotter and breathier as it neared your lips, ”you wouldn’t be out here crying and saying my name like a prayer.”

It was impossible to resist. Your eyes met again, and it felt as if you didn’t have a choice as he leaned down to kiss you. Your body was just following what it yearned to do. 

It was just as fantastic as you remembered. 

Blazing, spectacular, thrilling fireworks all through your body. On both of your lips burning and tingling with electric attraction, as they moved at a seamless speed. On your shoulders, as he massaged the bones, his hands brushing the length of them. In your blood as every particle of you seemed to hum in joy and satisfaction. It was an eager, sweet kiss, and it was precisely what you’d been missing. 

Why had you been trying to be a princess in a fairytale?

It was one of the only things you and he agreed on. You hated fairytales. 

You preferred thrillers. 

In sync you drew apart for breath, panting hard and grinning. After a short pause, you couldn’t hold it in anymore,. 

“Luke,” you said.

It was like saying a dirty cuss word that held powerful meaning. A secret no one wanted revealed. This was the loudest you’d ever said it in months, and you felt glad at the release of his name from your heart. 

It was the magic word for Luke. 

Immediately his lips were on yours, and there was no restraint this time. If that kiss had been hungry before, these were starved. 

Every ounce of anything either of you had felt was developed into that kiss. It was a myriad of different emotions, conflict and similar feelings rebelling and intertwining as your lips and tongues danced. I love you. I hate you. All I want is you. I’ve missed you. All I think about is you. I’ll never love someone how I love you-

“Come with me,” he begged, breaking apart as you shuddered for breath, and how could you refuse if he looked at you like that?

Luke beamed at you, seeing as you weren’t rejecting him and eagerly took your hand in his. The familiar warmth almost caused you to faint. 

And then he was leading you swiftly away from the beach, into the woods, and towards another part of the shoreline. 

You were almost giggly, as he pulled you along, over logs and past dense patches of lush shrubbery. It was like you were sixteen again, sneaking away from harpies and head counsellors so you could stargaze and kiss. 

You made it to his ship soon enough, the Princess Andromeda.

It was certainly fit for royalty. 

The style and size of the boat caused you to stop a moment, your jaw dropping. 

Luke continued to tug at your hand, pulling you along and towards the deck before you could reconsider. You figured you were too far gone to turn back now. But you didn’t want to either. 

“C’mon,” he urged, as you rapidly ascended the steps onto the ship. He led you inside, and down a few corridors, before he opened a door to what looked to be his room. 

It was grand, stylish. A double bed stood in the centre, a desk and ensuite to the left, and a wardrobe and bedside table to the right. You knew then that this was probably bigger and better than anything he’d ever had in his life. You wondered if he ever got lonely in the large space, or simply always felt like a king. 

Your thoughts were removed almost violently out of your head as Luke kissed you abruptly, pushing against you and using your back to close the door behind you. 

“I missed you,” he muttered against your lips, his arms twisting around you and hoisting you up, as if you were a bride. 

You laughed then, giddy, and said it back to him. 

He placed you on the bed softly, grinning and giving you time to shift about and be comfortable before he climbed over you, hovering above. 

The romantic assault ensued soon after. He tasted and smelled the same, and even though you were in new surroundings, it was like coming home. 

 “Your boyfriend,” he panted, laying heated kisses like freckles down your neck, “does he kiss you like this?”

“No.” The answer was breathy but definite. 

You could feel his smirk on your collarbone. “He doesn’t know, does he? About what you do out there. Try and talk to me, look at photos of us, cry. I’m your secret.”

And he was exhilarated to be your secret it seemed, because the kiss he gave you then was heart-stopping and sped up, like all the love scenes in thrillers. 

 And then the kissing stopped, because you both stupidly needed to breathe, and he lowered his head to your neck, his nose brushing the hollow of it as he regained oxygen. 

You sat up yourself, and while he continued panting, reached for the hem of his shirt. He froze, his eyes meeting yours in shock. He nodded insistently. 

It wasn’t the worn edge of his camp t-shirt you were used to, but the smooth fold of a new, better-fitting, more expensive one. 

You pulled it off, slowly, your fingers scraping against his sides in ways that made him shiver. It finally travelled over his head, and you tossed it somewhere on the floor, before cupping his face in your hands. 

“I’ll never get over you. I never have. Steve is just Steve and you’re you.” You whispered, lovestruck. 

You were sure he would’ve answered back something just as personal and romantic, but your fingers had found their way to his scar, the ridged line he’d loathed and you’d come to adore. All the words seemed to have evaporated from his mouth. You traced the length of the scar softly, before kissing every centimetre of it. His eyes had fluttered closed, and he was still. It was one of the only times his face looked so delicate. 

He sank down into the mountain of pillows,  yanking your shirt off and tossing it, and you hovered over him, tracing and smoothing your hands over the tense planes and valleys of his chest and shoulders. He inhaled and exhaled sharply, and you knew how much your care and adoration of him and his body meant to him. 

He was even more muscly than before, somehow, and you marvelled at the strength and might of your beloved boy, as you began leaving a burning line of kisses from the hollow of his neck to his navel. 

He shuddered, making little noises at each touch of your lips to his chest. 

Once your lips had finished that journey, up and back, you settled into his side, tucking your head under his chin and on his chest. 

His heart was racing, and as was yours, and the close, intimate feeling of it all was enough to make you beam. He turned his head to face you. His eyes were earnest, shining with clarity and joy. 

“You’re the only good thing in this world. I love you.”

And the world seemed to stop once your lips met again, because everything was perfect. 

Your heart, mind and body, all in the right place, cradled in his arms. 

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thrills only last so long before they wear off. 

The sunshine that streamed in through the porthole was like a warning from your father, a reminder that your actions were against everything you loved. Everything you believed in.

A reminder that while you loved Luke, you loved Camp Half-Blood more. 

You left your heart there, tucked between his sheets, nestled in his warm embrace. The loss of it tore your chest, as you tiptoed through the corridors, gasping at the monsters you could now see and swearing at yourself as tears flooded your vision. 

Maybe you should’ve woken him, you thought, given him one final kiss. 

You never would’ve been able to leave. 

You settled for leaving a note. 

You will always have my heart. 

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

He was awake. 

Of course he was. You’d always been restless, while you overthought and he’d woken as you tossed and turned softly. 

And he knew. 

Knew then that you were going to leave him. 

It was all over. 

He’d wanted to hold tight then, keep you as his, and never be parted from you. 

But he couldn’t. 

He knew he couldn’t even though he wanted to, even though he had promised himself he would never lose you again as you fell asleep entangled with him. 

It was the hardest thing in his life, feigning sleep as you silently slipped away, as you brushed his cheek in goodbye. 

You will always have my heart. 

They would always love each other. 

Always be torn apart. 

He realised bitterly you’d each be moths, drawn to the heat of each other, but always scalded and sent back by the flames. 

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

(For your lovely rollo event.)

Rollo, how do you feel about children? Either just in general or perhaps.. if you would ever want to be a father in the future?

Like Fire, Hellfire.

“Children?”

He handled the word as though it were a skunk—innocent and harmless for now but primed to spray at the first hint of danger. A muscle in his face ticked. It was though he wished to shift into a different emotion but hadn't yet decided which one.

Handkerchief out, Rollo sucked in a breath through his teeth. The usual disgust or disapproval was not present in full force. Today, it was tempered by hesitance as he tip-toed around the subject.

"They have the capacity to be rambunctious. Like fire, difficult to tame. I’m not certain I can match their energy," he said vaguely. “The children in the City of Flowers are free-spirited, and that tends to result in acts of mischief. Whether their pranks and games disturb public peace depends on the time and place. I'm not fond of the instances when they do."

A slight grimace crossed his features. "There was once an incident when a boy blew hard into a magically charmed handkerchief, and the noise it produced startled the baker at the cafe I was frequenting. He had just pulled out a fresh batch of croissants from the oven. The croissants ended up all over the floor... What a waste of perfectly good food. The baker, too, was quite upset, as you can imagine."

"What happened to the boy?"

"Ah, him. He attempted to abscond from the scene of the crime. In his rush to escape, he paid no attention to his surroundings and collided with me." Rollo waved a hand. "The baker's rage was upon him in an instant. The boy was shaking like a leaf in the wind—he grasped onto my robes to keep himself upright.”

Rollo drew out a sigh that ended in a small smile. “I managed to smooth things over with the baker, though I also spoke with the boy and had him apologize. One must atone for one’s crimes—that lesson was surely instilled in him that day.”

"Aw, it was nice of you to step in and speak on behalf of the little guy." You found yourself smiling as well. Even though Rollo-san always has this stern air about him… "You really have a soft spot for kids, huh?”

His frown quickly returned. "No, I wouldn't say that. I was merely holding the boy accountable for his actions. Children can so easily be led astray without proper instruction and moral guidance. Who is to say he wouldn’t be a repeat offender if he was let off the hook?”

"Someone's in denial," you said in a teasing singsong. “It’s okay to confess that you’re good at taking care of kids, you know.”

“… I am not,” he insisted. “I am most content observing the children go about their simple days. I do not wish to take a larger part in their lives beyond that.”

A terrifying thought nipped at him from the dark crevices of his mind.

I don’t have a right to.

If his heart were a house, then a window had been thrown open, letting the outside in. A hole opened in the dark, and incriminating light rushed to fill it.

A flower of pain blossomed in his chest, its thorns driving deep into his flesh. The blood that rose to the surface was both hot and cold. Burning scorn, icy remorse.

A deadly duo.

Spiraling.

I wasn't able to protect the one that mattered most of all. My magic came too late. I'm in no position to be a big brother, let alone a father, a grandfather, an uncle, a guardian of any sort…!

I’m not worthy.

Rollo gritted his teeth. His soul ablaze, his mind jumbled with emotions running high. He pushed back with teeth and nails.

It’s not my fault. I’m not to blame!! The one who cast this flame is…!

“Rollo-san?”

You were staring at him, concern seeping into your eyes. Curiosity, too, had bloomed there. It was the same sort of expression one makes at a a stray on the side of the road. Sorry for it, but uncertain about drawing near to check its condition.

He gasped—realizing he had been making a most frightening face. Rearranging his features back into some semblance of calm, he cleared his throat.

“… Suffice to say, it is impossible in this current state of affairs for any child to grow up safe and free of sin. Around every bend and corner, there is temptation of magic calling out to them. How cruel!” he lamented pityingly. “The poor things, like lambs led to the slaughter.”

You shuddered at the gruesome image—human children like lambs.

Poor things, echoed your head. Poor Rollo, echoed your heart, thinking such things.

“Until I can bring about that magic-free world into fruition, I cannot commit my efforts toward any other endeavors,” he concluded. “A world without all the pain and suffering of this one… I intend to see my goal through to the very end. That is my utmost priority.”

A fairer world for all.

For the children.

For him.

[cheynovak]

Old Hollywood

Characters: Soldier boy x Y/N Female character     

Summary: At the end of an opulent party, Ben, Hollywood’s golden boy, takes his girlfriend Y/N on a quiet walk home. Her silence a reminder of Ben's earlier thoughtless behavior. Regret softens him, and he approaches her with a quiet apology, asking to dance

Warnings: nothing too graphic.

English is not my first language 

*Please do not copy my work, reblog/comments/likes are appreciated* 

The party glittered like a scene pulled straight from a dream, an intoxicating mix of laughter, jazz, and the clinking of glasses. Ben, or Soldier Boy as the world knew him, sat at the center of it all, as effortlessly commanding as ever. The cut of his tuxedo was immaculate, the sharp lines accentuating his broad shoulders and lean frame.

His hair was slicked back with precision, his smirk a magnetic pull that drew people to him like moths to a flame. Around him, a small circle of Hollywood elites and his old war buddies hung on every word he spoke, laughing a little too hard at his jokes, their admiration almost palpable.

But Ben’s attention wasn’t on them. It was on Y/N.

She sat beside him, her presence quiet but powerful. Her gown was a masterpiece: the bustier sculpted her waist and accentuated her figure, while the feathered skirt swirled with every slight movement like liquid moonlight.

The city’s elite might have had their jewels and their silks, but none of them could compare to her. Her beauty wasn’t just in the way she looked; it was in the way she carried herself—graceful and unassuming, a rare treasure in a world of gaudy excess.

And she was his newest possession.

Yet, despite her beauty, she was subdued tonight, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. Ben noticed. He always noticed. But instead of addressing it, he leaned into his role, letting the room admire him as he cracked jokes and sipped champagne.

He wanted to bring her into the spotlight with him, but every time he tried, she withdrew just a little more. His frustration, always lurking beneath his polished surface, slipped out in subtle ways—a dismissive comment here, a clipped tone there.

By the time they left the party, the tension between them was a silent undercurrent. The city air was crisp as they strolled through the streets, the buildings above them sparkling like diamonds against the night sky.

Ben slid his hand to the small of her back, a protective gesture that also served as his way of grounding himself. He didn’t say much, just let the sounds of the city fill the quiet between them.

He stole glances at her, the way her face caught the glow of passing headlights, the way her dress fluttered with each step. She was heartbreakingly beautiful, and for once, he didn’t know how to tell her.

When they reached their apartment, Y/N slipped out of her coat and moved toward the record player, her movements fluid and familiar.

She chose a record and placed the needle with care, the soft crackle giving way to the soulful strains of a jazz melody. She poured herself a drink, the amber liquid catching the low light of the room, and stood by the bar, her back to him.

Ben leaned against the doorframe, watching her.

The tension in her shoulders, the silence that felt heavier than the night itself—it gnawed at him. He replayed the evening in his mind, his clipped words, his casual disregard for her quieter nature. His frustration at her reluctance to shine the way he believed she should had turned him into a brute.

He hated himself for it.

“May I?” he asked, his voice softer than it had been all night, as he stepped toward her and extended his hand.

She turned to him, her eyes searching his face for a moment before she placed her hand in his. He guided her to the center of the room, his other hand settling gently on her waist. The music swirled around them as he began to sway, their bodies moving in time with the rhythm.

At first, she was stiff, her movements hesitant, but he held her close, his thumb brushing against the small of her back in slow, reassuring circles. He leaned in, his lips close to her ear. “You looked like an angel tonight,” he murmured, his voice low and reverent. “The kind of beauty that makes the world stop.”

She tilted her head slightly, her body relaxing as his words melted away the barriers she’d built up. His fingers grazed her chin, lifting her face so their eyes met. “You have no idea how lucky I am, Y/N,” he continued, his voice thick with emotion. “I don’t say it enough, but it’s true.”

Her lips parted, a soft breath escaping, but before she could respond, he dipped his head and pressed a kiss to her shoulder, his lips warm against her skin. He trailed upward, slow and deliberate, pausing to brush his lips against the curve of her neck, where he felt her pulse quicken beneath his touch.

“Forgive me?” he whispered, his breath hot against her ear as he nipped at the lobe. Her soft gasp was all the encouragement he needed.

When he finally kissed her lips, it wasn’t the bold, brash kiss of the star the world knew him to be. It was tender, filled with the kind of vulnerability he only ever showed her.

His hands cupped her face, his thumb brushing over her cheekbone as he poured his heart into her, into them. The world outside faded, leaving only the music, the dim light, and the heat of their embrace.

As they swayed in place, their foreheads resting against each other, he whispered, “I love you, Y/N. More than I can put into words.”

Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears as she smiled softly.

The night might have started with tension, but now, in the quiet intimacy of their home, there was only love.

Ben's kiss deepened, his lips trailing softly along her jawline, then down to the curve of her neck. His touch was reverent, his hands sliding up her sides, the callouses on his fingers brushing against the soft silk of her skin. He didn’t rush, didn’t overwhelm her—he simply worshipped her, like he always did, but tonight with an extra layer of tenderness.

“You don’t even realize it, do you?” he murmured against her neck, his voice thick with emotion. “The way you pull everyone’s gaze without trying. You don’t need the lights or the camera—you shine on your own.”

Y/N leaned into his touch, her breath hitching as his lips trailed lower, brushing over her collarbone. His hands slid over her waist, kneading gently, his thumbs brushing the curve of her ribs like he was savoring the feel of her.

“You remind me of something I can’t quite name,” he said, his voice a low rumble, “something rare. Like the first warm breeze after a long winter—or the way the sun feels when it breaks through the clouds.”

His words settled over her, soft and intimate, filling the spaces between them as he pulled her closer.

He kissed her shoulder, then the hollow of her throat, and she shivered as his hands traced the flowing fabric of her gown. His fingers found the feathers at her hem, teasing the edge of her skirt as if to test whether she’d let him explore further. She melted into him, giving him silent permission.

“You know,” he said, his lips brushing against her ear, “I thought I’d seen it all. Hollywood, war, the ugliest and the most beautiful things in the world. But then I saw you that first day on set, and I swear, my whole world stood still.”

Her hands slid up his chest, finding their way to the knot of his tie. She tugged gently, and he took the hint, shrugging out of his jacket and undoing his tie with a practiced flick of his wrist. As it fell to the floor, his hands returned to her, sliding around to cradle her back as he held her against him.

“I remember the way you looked under those studio lights,” he continued, his voice rough with the memory. “You weren’t even the star of the scene, but you stole it.”

Her cheeks flushed, but before she could respond, his lips found hers again, silencing any protests or doubts. His hands wandered, not in a hurried or possessive way, but with a care that left her breathless.

“And then,” he said, breaking the kiss just long enough to murmur against her lips, “when I got to know you, really know you... It was over for me. You’re not just beautiful—you have this soul that catches people off guard, that makes them see the world differently."

"You made me see differently. Be different."

She cupped his face, her thumbs brushing over the sharp planes of his cheekbones. Her chest swelled with the weight of his words, the raw honesty in his voice.

“Ben,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

He pressed his forehead against hers, his breath warm and steady, grounding them both. “You don’t understand, sweetheart. You’re it for me. The reason I keep trying, keep fighting, keep wanting more. Not for the fame, not for the legacy—for you.”

His lips descended on hers again, slow and deliberate, as if he could pour every unsaid word into the kiss. His hands slid down her sides, tracing every curve with the care of a sculptor rediscovering his masterpiece.

“You’re everything I didn’t know I needed,” he murmured against her lips. His gaze locked with hers, dark and earnest. “And I’ll spend every day proving I’m worthy of you.”

As his lips resumed their exploration, trailing lower, mapping the bare expanses of her skin, she felt herself fall deeper. Not into him, but with him, into the world they’d built together—a world where he could show her, one kiss at a time, just how much she meant to him.

Ben turned her gently, his hands firm but careful as he guided her to face away from him. His fingers brushed over her bare shoulders, pausing at the small zipper nestled at the back of her dress. He leaned in, his lips grazing her ear, his breath warm and tinged with desire.

“After that first on-set kiss,” he murmured, his voice a low growl, “I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Every night, I dreamed of you. Of tasting you. Of hearing you moan my name.”

Her breath caught in her throat, her heart pounding in response to his confession. His hands moved to the zipper, slowly tugging it down as he spoke, his words soft but charged with intent.

“I wondered how your skin would feel,” he continued, his lips brushing along the back of her neck, following the path the zipper revealed. “How you’d tremble under my touch. How you’d melt if I kissed you here...” He pressed his lips to the newly exposed skin at the base of her neck.

“And here...” He kissed lower, his mouth tracing her spine as the zipper gave way. His voice dropped even further, his tone molten as he continued. “I wanted to know how you’d sound when I finally made you mine.”

The dress loosened, sliding off her shoulders as his lips continued their descent, trailing heat along the line of her back. He knelt behind her, the fabric pooling at her feet as his hands found her hips. His fingers splayed, gripping her firmly as if to steady himself, his thumbs brushing over the curves he’d worshipped in his mind a hundred times before.

His lips found the small of her back, pressing open-mouthed kisses that left her shivering under his touch. “You’re even more beautiful than I imagined,” he murmured, his voice thick with reverence and hunger.

One of his hands slid lower, grasping her behind as he leaned forward, his lips following the curve of her spine. “Perfect,” he muttered, squeezing softly, his touch both possessive and adoring. “You drive me crazy, you know that? Every inch of you.”

She couldn’t stop herself from leaning into him, her body responding to the way he touched her, the way he spoke as if she were the only thing that had ever mattered to him. And maybe, in this moment, she was.

Ben stayed on his knees, his hands firmly on her hips, guiding her to turn back toward him. As the dress slipped fully away, he looked up at her, his darkened gaze tracing every line and curve of her body as if committing her to memory. His hands slid up, brushing her thighs, then her waist, reverent and deliberate.

“You’re a goddess,” he murmured, his voice rough with want. “My goddess.”

He leaned forward, pressing his lips to her belly, slow and soft, lingering as if he could taste the heat of her skin. The contrast of his stubble against her softness sent shivers through her, and she couldn’t stop her fingers from tangling in his hair, tugging him closer.

He kissed his way upward, his lips trailing just below her navel, then higher, pausing to worship every inch of her.

Her breath hitched as his mouth pressed between her ribs, then between the curves of her breasts. His lips were warm, his tongue teasing as he whispered against her skin, “This is where I belong—here, with you, like this.”

A moan slipped from her lips, soft and unrestrained. “Ben...” His name left her mouth like a prayer, her voice trembling with need.

The sound of her moan lit something wild in him, and he surged upward, capturing her mouth with his own in a kiss that was as desperate as it was consuming.

His hands gripped her waist, pulling her closer as his lips moved against hers with raw intensity. The taste of her, the way her mouth parted for him, the way her nails scraped against his scalp—it undid him.

He broke the kiss just enough to whisper against her lips, his voice a low growl, “Say it again. Say my name baby, who do you belong to."

“Ben,” she breathed, her voice shaking with longing.

His lips crashed into hers again, devouring the sound, his hands sliding up her back to hold her firmly.

--

And cut!” startled Y/N. She blinked, the vivid daydream that had overtaken her mind fading as reality snapped back into focus.

She was sitting off to the side, waiting for her boss, Soldiee boy to finish his scene. He was starring in a new romantic movie set in the 1940s. But her thoughts had been far from professional.

As she watched him storm off the soundstage, barking complaints at anyone within earshot, her heart sank. Ben’s temper was infamous, and today was no exception. “Everyone here’s a damn idiot!” he ranted, his voice booming as he made his way to his trailer. “Can’t act, can’t direct, can’t even hold a damn light right. It’s like working with amateurs.”

Y/N hesitated, biting her lip before rising to follow him. She trailed behind him like a shadow, small and uncertain, her mind still reeling from the fantasy that had played out in her head. What was wrong with her? She knew better than to get lost in thoughts like that about him. Ben was her boss, her larger-than-life, impossible-to-please boss. She had no business thinking about him like that.

But the memory of her daydream lingered, her skin still warm with the imagined heat of his touch. She shook her head, silently berating herself as she followed him into his trailer.

The door slammed shut behind her, and Ben turned, already pacing like a caged lion. His tuxedo jacket was slung over one arm, his hair slightly mussed from the long day of filming. He looked every bit the larger-than-life star he was, his presence filling the small space effortlessly.

“What’s with you?” he asked suddenly, his sharp green eyes narrowing as he looked at her.

Y/N froze, her cheeks flushing as she realized her face must still be red from her earlier thoughts. She shook her head quickly, avoiding his gaze.

“N-nothing,” she stammered.

Ben’s expression darkened. “Don’t do that,” he snapped. “Don’t act like all those annoying little bitches who giggle and blush and waste my fucking time."

"If you have nothing useful to say, just leave.”

The words hit like a slap, and tears pricked the corners of Y/N’s eyes. She turned away, heading for the door, trying to hide the sting of his words, but it was no use. He noticed.

“Hey,” he said, his tone softer now, his hand reaching out to grab her wrist. “Y/N, wait—”

But she didn’t let him finish. Fueled by frustration, hurt, and the whirlwind of emotions she’d been fighting since she worked for him, she spun back around and did the only thing her heart told her to.

Rising on her toes, she pressed her lips to his, her hands gripping the front of his shirt as if to anchor herself.

For a moment, the world stopped.

Ben didn’t move. He didn’t push her away, but he didn’t pull her closer either. His body was tense, rigid, as if he didn’t quite know how to react. Y/N felt the stillness like a weight in her chest, and mortified, she pulled back, her hand covering her mouth.

Her voice trembled as she whispered, “I—I’m so sorry.”

Without giving him a chance to respond, she turned and fled, the door to the trailer swinging shut behind her.

Ben stood frozen, his lips still tingling from the kiss. His mind raced, replaying the moment over and over again.

Y/N, sweet, unassuming Y/N, had kissed him.

And instead of reacting, he’d just… stood there.

Not knowing what to do.

--

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