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descendantsramblings · 3 months ago

Note

Maybe some dating headcanons for Morgie and Hook with a more dominant gn! partner?

And maybe some nsfw headcanons if ur ok with it but no need

I do not do smut, however I will cross over into makeout scenes. So if you consider that nsfw then sure it's nsfw. I hope you meant together because that's surely how I did this.

Also this is so different from my normal posts tone wise, let me know how we feel about it?

Any way!!! I haven't written head canons since 2021 (I think the Gil ones? Maybe Harry's idk) it feels so good to write them again.

The Dominant Type

James Hook x GN! Reader x Morgie le Fay head canons

No pronouns used

'Warnings: Sfw dominance, make out/heated scenes including hickey mentions (probably the furthest I'd ever be comfortable going) , pet names, reader is possessive but not in a toxic way, Polyamory (obviously) I talk about Hook's hair an ungodly amount read into that what you will

Word Count: 1.6K

Originally, back in freshman year when it all started, it was just you and James

But by Junior year James couldn’t deny that Morgie had a thing for you, he knew it should make him jealous but something about how his roommate- his best friend- stared at you was so hot

And you’d have to be stupid to pretend you didn’t see that the sorcerer had a little thing for your boyfriend, hazel eyes always locked on Hook’s pouty lips while the two spoke, constantly trying to find a reason to touch him

When the two of you confronted it, talking about the boy between lazy kisses, both of you came to the realization that you wanted him too

So who could blame you two for asking him if he wanted to join you?

At first, Hook tried to hide that he was so submissive when it came to you, but Morgie-Who had watched from the sidelines for years by that point- knew better than that. It was no shock that you wore the pants so to speak

Quickly it fell into a rhythm, You were always the dominant one while Morgie and Hook were both switches in their own right. There was no true rhyme or reason to who leaned more submissive, it just sorta worked out

Hook Focused head canons:

He won’t admit it outside of the two of you but James is needy

And a giant brat

You never know if you’re getting him lounged across you like a house cat or extreme sass and attitude until one of you puts him back in his place and you love the unknown aspect of it- of him

He loves to hit you with a “make me” when you tell him to do something (Morgie gets an equal but different “bite me”) just to see the way you smirk, knowing he’s in for it

He’d die if his other friends knew though (Something that drives Morgie crazy because Hook is the biggest tease he’s ever met and he loves to catch an attitude in the hideout)

He loves to playfully pull away from your lips so you’ll thread your hands through his hair and force him to hold still while you kiss him properly, sighing into your mouth at the contact

James adores when you baby him though, he longs for it

Morgie making him sit on the bathroom counter so he can shave his face or you straddling his lap and putting his makeup on for him

If his boots come untied, you’re on the ground tying them for him before his mind has fully processed that it even was undone.

Doing his hair for him, or messing up his hair, really just anything that has to do with you touching his hair

He loves to push his luck in public for the thrill of you or Morgie shoving him against the door or wall to kiss him the second you’re all alone

Pull his hair while kissing him, Force him to look you in the eye while you speak. He eats it up, he likes when you two get more aggressive with him, especially if it’s you. The way you refuse to deal with his attitude drives him wild

If he thinks Morgie is getting more attention than him he’ll lay across the two of you and genuinely pout, whining about how you both “hate him and want him to die” because he is the most dramatic boy to ever live

You often hold his hook, leaving his good hand open for Morgie to take but if you’re in the middle of the two of them it’s always his good hand, rubbing calming circles on the back of it with your thumb

Buries his face in your neck when he’s upset, playing with his hair while he’s snuggled into you like that will always calm him down

He’s melting into your touch if you or Morgie wash his hair for him, it’s his favorite act of love

Polishing his hook for him is also a love language in his mind

If y'all are spooning he absolutely has to be the little spoon

Loves it when you undo his shirt for him absent-mindedly pressing kisses on his face and neck and shoulders as you do. There’s nothing more to it, just you doing something minor to care for him all on your own

He can’t sleep alone, if you’re not over he’s curled up against Morgie (not that the sorcerer would complain about the way his head fits so perfectly in the side of his neck, the boy is so warm when even in the summer Morgie can find a reason to shiver)

You call him “Honey” and he just melts, kissing you before you can finish your sentence or staring you with those big puppy dogs eyes until you kiss him

Morgie Focused Head canons:

Unlike his boyfriend, Morgie very rarely has an attitude but by god is he clingy

Making grabby hands at one of you when you dare to be in a different part of the room from him

Laying on your back if you’re refusing to cuddle him for any reason because he needs the closeness

Adores laying on top of you with his arms tucked underneath you

And he doesn’t care who sees it when he’s being needy, he proudly claims the two of you, you make him feel safe

He can pout like no one’s business though, Morgie knows how to get his way and make Hook think it was his idea (doesn’t work on you though, something he’s come to accept)

Hug him from behind, it makes him feel good to know you give him affection just because you want to and not because he asks for it

He doesn’t prefer to be babied but he does like to be taken care of, to him there’s a major difference

Loves when you put one of your jackets on him and zip it up for him or when you drape it over his shoulders when you notice him shivering

Or standing between your -or Hook’s legs- letting you wash his face after calming him down, the gentle motions gaining you all of his attention

He prefers to be in between you two, the middle spoon or the middle person while y’all are walking side by side, he likes to know he has both of his partner’s attention without having to fight for it.

Doesn’t mind if you or Hook get rough with him but he prefers gentle touches. Softly hold his jaw while you kiss him, slide a hand into his back pocket when you walk with an arm around him. Card your fingers through his hair while he’s laying in your arms talking to you

He likes to sit on the floor, between your knees with his head in your lap while you play with his hair

He loves verbal dominance too. “Let me help you”, “Baby, come here”, “That’s my boy” it makes him feel appreciated, like you really see him

Sits on your lap a lot, likes to feel your arms wrapped around his waist and your cheek pressed against his shoulder (likes it more when you tell him to do it)

He’s definitely the type to distract you from what you need to get done so he can lay in your arms for longer

Loves praise, you can get him flustered by simply telling him he did a good job on a test

Whiny, worse than Hook when it comes to being whiny, the boy nearly begs for things

Loves it when you get possessive over him, especially when Uliana is giving him a tough time

Nuzzles against you like he’s trying to scent you (maybe he is)

Call him “Baby”, “Sugar”, or “Sweetheart” and he’s a mess between your adoring hands, eyes looking up at you with stars in them

Even if he’s not as submissive, he’ll sometimes ask you for permission for things (Mainly if you’re kissing James and he wants to)

When he is feeling completely submissive though, he loves looking to you for approval, nearly glowing if you specifically give him permission to do something without him having to ask (not that he needs your permission to begin with)

More of them together:

Morgie isn’t a brat on his own but when they’re both feeling more submissive Hook has no trouble coaxing him to be bratty with him. You have your work cut out for you if it’s one of those days. Nothing’s worse than one sassy man but two of them

If you are sleeping over, most of the time you lay between them, they’ll both lay their head on your chest, letting their intertwined hands rest on your stomach. You’ll scratch Morgie’s head with the hand on his side while your other arm is around James’ waist pinning him to you with all three of your legs becoming one big tangle in Morgie’s bed

Grabbing the nape of Hook’s neck to pull him off of Morgie’s lips when you walk in on them making out, kissing him from behind while Morgie’s lips find a new home on the boy’s jaw. His half-lidded doe eyes look so pretty while he’s looking at you with hunger in them.

Or holding Morgie still while Hook tickles him, the boy is absolutely the most ticklish person you know.

They both love seeing you get jealous, especially since they know you can’t get set off by them. Heaven forbid some princess starts flirting with James or Uliana gets too handsy while trying to get Morgie to do something she wants. They know they’re going to end up with your hands all over them, whispering in their ear about how they better know they’re yours. It’s unbelievably hot to them

Heaven forbid they decide they want you to stop what you’re doing so you’ll pay attention to them, they’re pulling out all the stops until they can get what they want from you.

You’re always touching one of them in some way, sometimes both of them. A hand on Hook’s shoulder, a leg thrown over Morgie’s lap, your arms both wrapped around their waists.

Leaving visible hickeys on them, literally marking them as yours -especially on their jawlines or collar bones (something Morgie does in fact beg for)

Sometimes Morgie kisses James purely so you’ll grab him by the neck to focus him back onto you. He doesn’t do it often but something about kissing you over his shoulder like that while James’ hands are on his hips is intoxicating

#descendants #descendants imagines #descendants rise of red #descendants fanfiction #descendants x reader #james hook #morgie le fay #morgie x reader #james hook x reader #morgie le fay x reader

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ghostif1ed · 2 years ago

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Hi honey! I don't know if u r taking requests right now but if you do I have one. Can you make a standalone where Ghost and F/reader are together for like 1/2 year(s) and she is always like really nervous around Ghost and can't look him in the eye for too long because she is really shy and Ghost kind of like the effect he has on her. Something along that way :)

Thank you so much and have a great day!!🤍

ɞ - 𝑤𝑒𝑎𝑘 𝑖𝑛 𝑡𝚑𝑒 𝑘𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑠

𝑠𝑖𝑚𝑜𝑛 "𝑔𝚑𝑜𝑠𝑡" 𝑟𝑖𝑙𝑒𝑦 𝑥 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑐𝑎𝑛'𝑡 𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑘 𝑠𝑖𝑚𝑜𝑛 𝑖𝑛 𝑡𝚑𝑒 𝑒𝑦𝑒𝑠- 𝚑𝑒 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑠 𝑖𝑡 𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑎𝑚𝑢𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔

𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: 𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑠𝑤𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑? 𝑔𝑛 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 ( 𝑖 𝑡𝚑𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝑚𝑏 𝑖𝑓 𝑛𝑜𝑡) 𝑓𝑙𝑢𝑓𝑓 𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑎?? 𝑎 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑟𝑎𝑏𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑙

𝑤𝑐: 830

𝑎/𝑛: 𝑚𝑦 𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑠𝑡 𝑟𝑒𝑞!!!! 𝑠𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑦 𝑡𝚑𝑖𝑠 𝑡𝑜𝑜𝑘 𝑠𝑜 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑙𝑜𝑙 𝑖 𝑎𝑚 𝑡𝚑𝑒 𝑏𝑖𝑔𝑔𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑐𝑟𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑜𝑟 𝑚𝑏𝑚𝑏. 𝚑𝑜𝑝𝑒 𝑡𝚑𝑖𝑠 𝑚𝑒𝑒𝑡𝑠 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑒𝑥𝑝𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠 𖠌 𝑏𝑡𝑤 𝑚𝑦 𝑟𝑒𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑠 𝑟 𝑜𝑝𝑒𝑛 𝑠𝑜 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑎𝑠𝑘!!

anyone would be nervous if a 6’4 buff military man locked eyes with you. right? possibly- but does knowing him for 4 years make it any better? does dating for two of those years help? nope. looking this hunk of a guy in the eyes didn’t get any less nerving, even after knowing him for so long.

the way he trapped you under your gaze made you nervous. it made your fingers drum against your cargo pants -it made your heavy boots tap on the concrete. he must know, he gave it away by the way he held his stare- not daring to look away. he knew it made you nervous- he knew it made you weak in the knees. maybe if you could look him in the eyes for longer, you’d see the glimmer in them when your eyes drifted down and your face went hot.

the first time he noticed- it was a team briefing. you were sat across from him, he was looking at you- as always- and he began to zone out. he admired your face- your beauty. the way you chewed on your cheek in concentration as you listened carefully to the orders price was giving out . he was lucky to have someone like you in his life. someone to trust, someone to kiss, someone to hug.

at first- he didn’t notice he was staring at you. but when price slammed something onto the table - most likely harder than he intended to - it snapped him out of his trace. he was confused- to say the least- he didn’t understand the ways your eyes were darting all over the place… until he did.

your fingers - which were resting against the table - were fighting against each other and your knee was bouncing at a particular pace. he knew it was yours- the table was rocking and soap - who was sitting on his right - was completely still. as for gaz, he was sat, on a chair, away from the table, why? god knows - but that left you.

he understood now- you were nervous. why? because you were caught under his gaze.

that moment, he was thankful for the mask. it hid the smirk on his face. well- not that you could look for long enough to see it. he was still staring at you- he realised. maybe he should stop. let you focus. so he, thoughtfully, looked away- though not before taking one last glance, just for fun.

the second time, he’d actually forgotten. you were all cramped into a little plane, on the route to a mission. soap was squashed up beside you, practically locking you into the wall. ghost, however, was facing you, the tip of his boots pressed against yours. he was looking at soap, who was waffling about god knows what- it was always hard to keep up with what the scot was saying.

you- were also listening. just not so intensely. you didn’t bother to turn your body to look at soap, you couldn’t, he had you trapped against the wall. so, you had to look straight ahead. right at ghost.

you did your best to avoid his eyes. you stared at the wall of the plane, his vest, the badge on his jacket - hell even his gun. but you found yourself staring back into his eyes. you loved his eyes- you did, even if it didn’t seem like it. you loved the way they sparkled in the sunlight- the way they lit up when you walked into a room. but you just couldn’t maintain eye contact.

he tried to listen to soap- for a change - he really did, but eventually, the man became a buzzing in his ears. so he turned his attention back to you. as soon as his eyes began to move, so did yours. you looked away as quickly as possible- deciding the marks on the floor were much more interesting to look at.

ghost, although hidden by the mask, raised an eyebrow at this. again, he didn’t understand why. he racked his brain for the memory or the reason. oh. right.

the corners of his lips perked up, and he kicked his foot against your boot. he watched your eyebrows furrow, and your teeth gnaw at your bottom lip. he kicked again, and again until you were forced to look at him. he was having far too much fun for a man about to head onto the battlefield.

you- on the other hand. god, this was the furthest thing from fun you could imagine. he was your boyfriend for christ’s sake. you hoped he would never notice. the height difference between you two always meant you stared directly at his chest and you almost always sat next to him. maybe you cold try look at him, just once more.

so the next minute- you were staring right into his eyes. maybe a couple of seconds passed, you could already feel your face getting hot, your fingers start to twitch against your knee. fuck sake. you caved in again, looking away.

and you swear you heard the faintest sound of a deep chuckle come from him.

୨ ࣪ ˖ . ࣪ ˖ . ࣪ ˖ . ࣪ ˖ . ࣪ ˖ . ࣪ ˖ . ࣪ ˖ . ࣪ ˖ . ࣪ ˖ . ࣪ ˖ . ୧

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mistyresolve · 2 years ago

Text

| His Foresight - Simon “Ghost” Riley X Medic!Reader (Part 3)

Word Count - 3.7k

Summary - It’s been a couple months since you last had contact with Lt. Simon Ghost Riley. While you are repairing your tarnished reputation, Simon is on the other side working from the shadows and doing everything he can to take back his words. It isn’t until the three-month marker that you finally face him again, this time you’re willing to hear him out. If only because you guys are going to be team members.

Tags/Warnings - Blood and Injury, Depictions of war and violence, Explicit Language, Character Death, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, Maybe a little bit of angst, Mentions of childhood trauma

A/N - as we near the end of this storyline I would like to thank everyone for their love and support and I appreciate every one of you guys 🤍🤍🤍 I am also going to post a brief POV from Ghost later, and one more part, two at tops.

Part 1 ❤︎ Part 2

Masterlist ❤︎ Tag List Form

It had been a month since you last spoke with Ghost and since then you learned three things. The first was that he truly was a ghost. He haunted hallways and existed only in rumors and whispers. He made himself seen only when he wanted to be. For the rest of his assignment, he kept his distance. You figured since you have yet to see him it was because he was better at spotting you first and turning in the other direction. Soap would still drop by and fill you in on the latest 141 gossip. It didn’t go over your head that Soap never had any gossip about Ghost. Never once did Soap mention him. Whether Soap figured out that something had gone down on his own or forced it out of Ghost himself was a mystery. You didn’t have the energy or care to ask.

The second is that whatever he had been previously telling the higher up was either rescinded or someone had put in a good word about you. If it was Ghost or not, you also didn’t know. Nor did it matter if it was him, the damage was done. You put your hand up for every opportunity, followed every rule, and every patient that came to you left you with positive feedback. You were an HR dream.

The third was that you missed his company. Even a month after you were still fuming, still ready to rip his tongue out should you see him again. Still heartbroken and yet some part of you still missed Ghost. You kept a very tight leash on that part of you and squashed it beneath your boot. How was it fair that his fuck up, and his selfishness resulted in you losing a friend. It wasn’t, and that’s what you were most bitter about.

After two months, you have decided to let go of the anger and hurt. It wasn’t going to help you now. You kept yourself preoccupied with work and more work. You were still based in the new camp, now dubbed Fort Cardinal, which has since become one of the biggest bases.

You were just leaving the mess hall after breakfast when you were intercepted in the hallway.

“L/n?” the private asked.

“Yes?” your brows furrowed.

“Crawford wants to speak to you. He’s in his office.”

Crawford was the commanding officer, and when he summoned someone to his office it could mean only a few things. Most of them were bad. You pivoted and headed towards HQ. You might have taken the scenic route too. Pausing at the entrance to Crawfords office. “Sir,” you stood by the doorway waiting for your CO to acknowledge you, “you requested I come to see you.”

He looked up from the files splayed out on his desk, “Take a seat.”

You pulled out a chair opposite him, your palms began to sweat and you wiped them on your pants. Racking your brain to try and remember if you had done something wrong, or inappropriate, but came up blank.

“How many years have you been with us?” he questioned, folding his hands over the papers.

“Four, Sir,” you straightened your back and squared your shoulders.

He stared at you for a second, his face hard, before nodding and looking back to the papers. They were your files. A collection of reports and logs and records, “It’s of my understanding that you’ve voiced your desire for a transfer.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Since your enlistment, your peers and superiors have had nothing but good things to say about you. Your records show that you excelled in both the field and the classroom. Never missed a work day, never late,” he began listing things off from the note in front of him. You couldn’t tell if he was impressed or irritated, and it was psyching you out. He paused as he flipped through, “Have you fully recovered from your injury?”

“Healed like a dream,” you offered him a tight-lipped smile. It did, after the first couple of weeks you were back at work in full force.

“Good to hear,” he flipped a page back so it was facing you, “Any idea what this might have been for?” It would have looked the same as any other report aside from the fact that it was entirely redacted. Whatever was written beneath had been obscured by a thick black line.

You leaned forward, your smile fading into a frown. You shook your head, “I have no idea. No.” This was the first time you saw your files all laid out like this, so you were just as lost as him. Whoever redacted it must have been of higher status than him if even he didn’t know. Then again, you weren’t sure about what happened behind closed doors. You met his eyes, trying to read what he was thinking and when you couldn’t you wanted to melt into your seat.

“There’s been an opening,” he leaned back in his chair, “Aerospace medicine has requested a combat medic. It’ll be a one year contract. Should you take this position you will be sent out for a three week training program and your first assignment will be right after that. ”

If it weren’t for those four years of service and learning that people like your CO didn’t like a show of emotions you would have hopped around his office. So, you remained silent, waiting for him to continue.

“The captain of Special Task Forces 141 has requested you himself for their next mission.”

Your heart dropped.

“Captain Price?” you echoed. Maybe it was a different 141.

“Correct,” he waved a hand, his patience shortening, “Yes or no?”

“Yes,” you answered before you could think it over, and he excused you before you could process your answer. This was what you had been asking for, what you were working towards, and now that it had been offered to you you were left uneasy. Working with the 141 was an honour and a nod to your capabilities. It also meant working with Lt. Simon Riley. You couldn’t unscramble your feelings about the implications.

You determined that professionalism would yield the best outcome.

You were packed and heading out for your training by lunch.

When you entered the briefing room, it was as relaxed as you expected from the 141. Which was not at all. The air was thick and sober. You were half an hour early and still the last to arrive.

“Morning,” Price stepped around the table everyone was surrounding.

“Good morning,” you replied, making your way to the table. Laswell met up with you during your training to give you a rundown on what to expect. You were going to be their combat medic, yes, but you could fight and shoot just as well as any other soldier. You even had the grounds to brag about your close combat skills. Laswell was visibly pleased when you told her your dad forced you into mixed martial arts when you were ten years old, and could take down a full-grown man like he was a bag of flour.

You scanned the table and the map splayed out was a replica of the one Laswell had provided. You tried to hide the smile and pointed to the empty medicine vial on the map, “Is that supposed to be me?”

“Aye,” Soap puffed his chest out, “that was my doing.”

When you looked up at Soap, you purposefully ignored the large burly man dressed in all black beside him, “Creative,” you noted how Ghost seemed to shrink back into the shadows at your indifference towards him.

Soap had actually picked everyone's avatar, a sniper bullet, a lighter, a toy skeleton, and an angel wing that looked like it used to be a necklace, and a battery. You couldn’t decide whether to laugh at the figurines or the fact that everyone accepted them.

Price ran through the plan, the target, and his expectations of everyone. He revealed that the target was going to be “Cameron Rowe” , a former sergeant turned rogue. His headshot was stabbed into the table with a knife. You recognized it as Ghosts, the blade usually fixed to his thigh.

“Since we have no real idea as to where Rowe will be we’ll be splitting off into teams.” You had to suck your lips into your mouth to keep from making an argument when Price moved your vial next to the skeleton on the map. “Soap and Laswell with nest at the top of these two buildings,” he pointed to the two highrises in front and behind Rowe’s apartment building. “Doc and Ghost will take watch at the port,” he dragged his finger to the loading docs, which was usually Rowe’s meeting place. “Gaz and I will be tailing his informers and hopefully, catch them in the act.”

You had a sneaking suspicion they stuck you with Ghost was to balance out the teams. Ghost was a one man army, you were basically going to keep him company. Or so they thought. You didn’t plan on sharing a single conversation with him, and you knew you could easily hold your own. The 141 had plans of not only taking down Rowe but finding out whoever he was working with. So, they couldn’t just pick him off in his apartment building.

After the briefing and everyone knew their role people started to filter back out. You stayed behind to speak with Price, having a few questions of your own.

“Captain,” you started and he turned back around, “Why ask for me?” This assignment was only temporary, you weren’t a part of the 141, but Price could have picked anyone in the world to help with this job.

“I read your file,” he closed the door behind him, coming to meet you by the table again, “You have an impressive background, and it makes me wonder why you chose the medical field.”

You were at the top of your class for both basics and medical school, so it was a genuine curiosity. He also probably had access to your life before enlistment, “It’s what I wanted,” was the only answer you could give him, and it’s the only one you had.

He hummed, his eyes turning to slits, “Then why agree?”

“I’ve been waiting for something like this since day one. How was I supposed to say no?” You’ve been waiting for an opportunity to show your versatility. This mission might have been overkill but it was what you wanted. Beggars can’t be choosers.

“You’re a strange one,” Price crossed his arms over his chest, “You’ll fit in great,” he looked like he had something else to say but changed his mind. He tilted his head towards the door, “Better go and get some rest, we leave at 0400 tomorrow.”

You nodded, parting off with a “Thank you,” before heading to the door.

“Can we talk?” Ghost was waiting outside the door when you left the room.

You shot him a blank look, “About?” you kept walking down the hall not waiting to hear his answer.

He followed after you, “I want to apologize.”

You exited the building and met with a blast of the hot sticky air of summer, the sun was getting low in the sky, “Go ahead, Judas” you turned to him, making eye contact with his chest. You gritted your teeth when you had to look up at him, “I’ll keep it civil for the sake of the mission but I don’t want to be your friend.”

His shoulders loosened as if he had just received the best news, “I understand,” he shifted back on his feet, his tired eyes scanning the area, before returning to you, “I was out of line. I was mixing private affairs with work, I see that now. And I’m sorry. I was being selfish and I wasn’t taking your needs and wants into consideration. So, if you’ll give me some grace and let me show you how good I can be.”

“Keep your fingers out of my business and I’ll think about it,” you quipped.

He lifted his hands before him, splaying his fingers out before curling them into a fist, “They’re put away,” he might have broken your trust and crossed you but he was still the friend you lost and missed. He was going to have to work for it either way. This was a start.

“We can talk more later,” where there were fewer listening ears and watchful eyes. “I’ll come to you when I’m good and ready. For now, just stay away from me,” you’d think after 3 months you’d have figured out what you’d say to him, but you didn’t. And tomorrow you were going to be trapped in a room with him, so you were going to have to cross your t's and dot your i’s tonight to present them to him for tomorrow.

He physically flinched at the dismissal, but he took a step back, providing you with space, “Of course.”

Your chest twisted at the sight, you didn’t like treating him like a disease, but you refused to let it blind you of the truth. Still. You sighed, cursing yourself for what you were about to say, “Thank you, for apologizing.”

His eyes crinkled in the corners and you could have sworn they gave way to a smile. The awe-worthy occurrence was sadly hidden underneath his mask. You rolled your eyes at him before pivoting and walking towards the barracks.

You sat with Laswell on a stray crate on the tarmac while you waited for the rest of the team to arrive. The two of you just people watched, with her occasionally pointing someone out and telling you a little about them. This guy was grounded a couple of weeks ago because he arrived at work still drunk from the night before. That guy had a crazy, entitled wife.

The chopper started its engine and was ready for lift-off at exactly 0359.

“Doc, about our talk yesterday. I also figured you want to take part and get some revenge for yourself,” Price bellowed over the sound of the chopper, and he ducked below the propellers. Realization sprung to life in your chest. Price had asked for you to be on this mission because you had something to gain from it. This Rowe guy, this squealer had been the one to rat out the convoy to the enemy. He was the reason you were injured, and the reason Butters was dead. This wasn’t the sleight of hand of Ghost but Price. It put your nerves at ease and allowed you to be a little less angry with the former.

“I appreciate it, Sir,” you nodded at Price. He clapped a hand over your shoulder and hopped into the helicopter after you. Being squished between Price and Soap made you feel a little safer with the fact that there were no doors on the heli. Ghost took his spot on the side of the heli, letting his legs hang out the side, his gun at the ready. Gaz sat opposite him and Laswell adjacent to you. Her pack and gun took up an entire seat. She reached into her front pouch as the heli lifted off the ground, pulling out a chocolate bar. Your mouth watered. Chocolate was hard to come back at base, people traded whole MREs for one bar. Soap handed you a headset for the chopper just as she noticed your drooling expression.

“If you promise you can get an appointment with the chiro, I’ll give you some,” she waggled the bar in front of her, a trade.

“I know both the chiropractor and the masseuse,” you countered. She made a look of delight, before reaching into her pack and tossing you your own bar.

Oh, you liked her.

You stuffed the back into the small day pack at your feet, saving it for later. Acutely aware that if you opened it here at least two people on this aircraft would put their hand out for a piece. You eyed Gaz and Soap.

The helicopter had been an hour's flight, and they had landed on a field. Without permission, you might add so you had to be quick on the exit. A line of blacked-out SUVs and trucks was waiting for a quick escape. Price ordered everyone to join up with their duo, and head to their discussed position.

Ghost strode for one of the SUVs, opening the back to place his pack and guns. He stepped to the side to allow you to do the same and closed it after you. He was spinning the keys around his finger when he turned to you, “Who’s driving?”

You didn’t respond, instead, you opened the passenger door and slid in. From the side mirror, you could see him look up at the sky, take a couple of deep breaths, then clasp his hands together before moving to enter the car. He was silent the rest of the way, his attention on the road. Even through the mask, you could see his jaw tighten and flex.

He parked the SUVs at the back of the building, between the wall and another vehicle. He lead you into the building, a warehouse or collection center of some sort into the offices on the second floor. He pointed out exit routes and potential areas to hold our position. The gravity of his pointing stuff out like that said a lot about how he thought this mission was going to pan out. The thought should have frightened you but knowing that the Ghost was fighting on the same side as you had the opposite effect. The office he brought you into was already vacant, with nothing but an empty desk and a chair on each side. He locked the door and placed his gun on the desk, and informed Price over the radio that we were in place. You made your way to the window, pulling one of the vanes down to peek outside. The window gave a good view of the entrance of the port and a decent view of the sea cans.

“How long will he have to camp out here?” you asked, letting go of the blinds.

“The day. Maybe into tomorrow,” he shrugged, as he started pulling things from his pack, “Depends on Rowe, really. Price and Gaz have the biggest probability of catching him. Laswell is going to be our eyes in the sky, and Soap already has access to the cameras in Rowe’s apartment, and a couple in this harbour.”

You took a seat in one of the swivel chairs, “And you?”

He paused, his eyes refusing to meet yours, “I’m more for after we catch him,” he cleared his throat. The question made him awkward, he didn’t want you to know what exactly it was that he did. You had your ideas and presumptions already but his hesitation had you second guessing.

“You the one who’s going to get the information out of him?” he picked up one of the blades he had laid out on the desk, turning it over in your hand. He watched you, following your movements with predatory grace.

“Is that why I’m here?” you continued, “To make sure he stays alive long enough to give you that information?” He was the butcher and you were the surgeon. A strange dichotomy.

He stilled, “I don’t want you to see it.”

“It”, being what he was going to do. What he was trained to do. What he was good at. You placed the knife back on the table, pushing away with the wheels on the chair. You prepared yourself for the upcoming confession. Playing this out in your head last night was way easier than actually doing it.

“You know, I think you and I have very similar pasts,” you looked down at your hands, at the lines and curves etched into them.

“Don’t say that,” he shook his head, and his shoulders rolled forward.

“I also think we took very different paths, though,” you saw it in his eyes the moment you met, the wounds that were too deep to see on the surface. It was why you understood him, and why you were going to forgive him, “You don’t have to hide it from me, Riley. I’ve seen the worst in humanity, and I know that you are nothing like them”

You didn’t think he was breathing, didn’t think he was in his body. When you met his stare, his eyes were wide, and his pupils were pinpricks. You stood up from the chair and walked to his side of the table, “Can I touch you?”

It was barely noticeable but he nodded. You wrapped your arms underneath his arm and pressed your cheek to his shoulder. He immediately returned the gesture, his arms encircling your shoulders, his one hand reaching up to cradle your head to him. He released a shuddering breath, and if you closed your eyes and focused hard enough you could hear his heart hammering against his chest.

“There isn’t anything you can do that will make me think you're a monster,” you whispered into his shoulder, “Aside from maybe sabotaging my career,” it was almost a joke.

“Noted,” you could hear the smile in between his words. Feel the relief thawing his muscles. You pulled back just as Soap and Laswell confirmed their position. Ghost took a step back himself, “We should get set up.”

He pushed the desk so it was against the same wall as the window, propping his gun onto and looked down the scope to the entrance of the port.

You settled down and at the end of the desk, it was going to be a long, boring wait. You set to counting the bullets in the magazine Ghost pulled from his pack if only to find something to distract yourself. You were elated when he pulled a deck of cards from his pack and the two of you played a couple of rounds of poker, then switched to go fish. There was also the occasional chatter about what each other did in the three months you were separated. The both of you had become incredibly busy.

It was nearing dusk by the time anything of importance aired over the radio.

Price’s eager voice came through, “Ghost, Doc, we’re following the informants to the port. Be at the ready.”

Part 3.5, Part 4

Masterlist ❤︎ Tag List Form

A/N - the sniper bullet is Soap, the lighter is Price, the toy skeleton is Ghost, the angel wing is Gaz, and the battery is Laswell. Also, also, Price is definitely playing Cupid.

Tag List - @thychuvaluswife ❤︎ @shuttlelauncher81 ❤︎ @marytvirgin ❤︎ @stickygumchewer ❤︎ @lauraliisa ❤︎ @jungcoccc ❤︎ @lovelyladymayyyy ❤︎ @lululandd ❤︎ @chrissyfishywissy ❤︎ @naxxsstuff ❤︎@sididakra-jo, @yukisawer ❤︎ @q8852p ❤︎ @lostinsideourminds ❤︎ @kat-nee

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #cod ghost #ghost mw2 #MW2 #cod #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley angst #simon riley x reader #cod x reader #mw2019 #mw2022 #call of duty #MistyGhosties

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youfreakinturltle · 2 years ago

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Protect You Pt. 4

(A/N): Okay friends! So sorry for the delay, life has definitely been interesting lately! Here is part 4 in the Protect You series! I believe this will be the final part and is kind of a long one! I based the haunted house off a house that’s actually in my home town that I visited once before it was bought. The TLDR of it, I have no idea what this house’s backstory is, it is not open to the public, nor was it when my stepmom and I decided to go take a look lol! But this is based off an experience I had when I was about 15 and the house was up for sale before being bought by a lovely family. Out of respect for the family and their safety, I won’t be giving in depth details on the exterior of the house, nor it’s location, but I will say I grew up a whole 5 minutes away from this house so it’s image is forever engrained in my mind. For the story’s sake, this will take place with the house as it was when I visited! Hope y’all enjoy!

Warnings: pirate mentions, ghosts, slight violence,some language, blood mention, mild nsfw (mostly bc I’m too awkward to go past mild 🥲), death mentioned (don’t worry, no one dies lol)

As you grew accustomed to your, as you began calling it, “second life”, you noticed that all in all, not much changed. You still went on all of the guys’ adventures, stayed at their house, and kept watch over them when it came to the paranormal. When your body was returned to you, you looked exactly the same as you had when you died. Still in your black corset (which served more as armor than an accessory in your previous life), white tunic, and leather jacket, pants, and boots. And luckily, your daggers were still snugly in place on your lower back. Some time before you died you’d had the local armorer on Nassau add holsters for them onto the back of your corset, forgoing the need of a clunky belt like your crew mates. You did take notice though upon returning, the lack of bullet holes in your clothes, something you hadn’t realized Mara had taken care of until you woke.

While you knew the time you woke up to catered to far different forms of fashion than you were used to, you realized it was also a time period where most people wore what they wanted without a care. So, taking this into account, you typically styled yourself how you would’ve when you were still a pirate. Often opting for a tunic like shirt, some leather pants with knee high boots, of course lots of jewelry, and your ever reliable jacket. On occasion you would wear your corset over your tunic of the day, but typically opting for forgoing it.

Today was one of those days where you not necessarily wanted to wear your corset, but rather had to. You see, the guys decided for their first night of Hell Week to visit a little known, but very haunted house in Texas. They couldn’t find anything online about the house or its story, but had been told about it by a fan online. The mystery behind it, not knowing what could possibly be there, is what unnerved you the most and prompted you to bring your blades. The girl online had told them briefly about her experience, being too afraid to delve too deeply. Among her recount though, included a book being thrown at her head. Of course it wouldn’t be a nice spirit, that would be too easy.

You’re sitting in the front passenger seat next to Colby, who was driving, your hand held tightly in his. About halfway from the airport you noticed his hands had begun to shake, so you quickly took one in yours and had yet to let go, too embarrassed to admit you needed it just as much as he. Something about facing the dead after having your life returned to you left you feeling uneasy. Like every spirit you crossed paths with since knew your secret, and they were angry about it.

Before you know it the car is turning off the main road and into the short driveway of the faded pink house. Immediately, you get a sinking feeling in your gut, but you quickly push it away when you turn around to smile at Sam who was speaking into the camera in the back seat. Today it was just the three of you and Kat. You loved the other guys, but sometimes their antics could be a bit much during an investigation. Once the car is stopped the four of you step out and take a look around. Thankfully, because the house is foreclosed, you’re allowed to be on the property so you don’t have to worry about anyone driving past and seeing you. Going inside on the other hand, that you’re not too sure about.

After finishing up the intro for the video, Colby turns to the group and asks if everyone is ready to head inside. There is a hesitant chorus of yes’s that causes all of you to chuckle nervously.

“Don’t worry guys, I’ll protect you from all the scary ghosts,” you say laughing as you grab onto Colby’s hand again. Not wanting to waste any more time, you lead them all to the porch. Walking up the steps you notice a tin cup sitting on the railing of the porch right next to the stairs.

“That’s not weird or anything,” you think to yourself before continuing on to the door.

“How do you think we get inside? You think there’s a window unlocked somewhere?” You hear Kat ask from behind you.

“Hmm, maybe…” you say thoughtfully, your hand already traveling to the doorknob in front of you. To everyone’s surprise, the door clicks open with ease.

“Okay… getting weirder…” you think walking through the entryway. But before you can get any further, you feel a firm hand on your right shoulder. Almost like it’s trying to push you into the floor. Whipping your head around to look at Colby, you ask what he wants.

“What are you talking about? Are you okay?” He asks looking at you with concern.

“I swear I just felt a hand on my shoulder… I’m sure it’s nothing, I’m okay,” you say shaking your head a bit and smile up at him. Everyone else walks in behind you and astonishingly enough, all of them felt it too. You look around the entryway and see stairs to your right with what looks like the remnants of a reading nook to the right of them next to the door. To your left is a sunroom, chimney in the middle of the far wall with windows completely surrounding the remaining wall space. Inside are a few bookshelves on the left, half filled with old books that look to be falling apart, a small couch in the center, and a grand piano on the right. You take note of the fact that the top of the piano is wide open and the fall board, or key lid, is shut with the bench pushed under it.

Moving on, you walk past the stairs and into the living room where you see another, larger couch in the center, another fireplace, some end tables, empty bookshelves, and a large somewhat empty picture frame above the fire place. At first glance, it appears as if nothing was ever in it, but looking closer you can see that a painting had been torn out of it as some of the edges are still sticking out of the frame. This immediately causes you to begin exercising extreme caution, and your hand goes right to one of the daggers on your back.

Behind you, you hear Kat let out an ear piercing shriek as she all but launched herself into your arms.

“What?! What happened? Are you okay?? Kat what’s wrong?” Sam asked frantically, pointing the camera to the ground out of respect for his girlfriend.

“Is a- it’s- it- a- a- r-r-RAAAT!!” She finally gets the word out, still violently shaking in your arms. You all let out a breathy laugh of relief as you attempt to calm the girl down. You all are about to walk into the kitchen when you suddenly hear a rattling noise from the sunroom. Furrowing your brow, you look to Colby and motion for them to go into the kitchen while you investigate.

Walking quietly through the living room, you don’t realize you’re holding your breath as you unsheathe your daggers to hold them in front of you. Your steps stutter when you feel a finger ghost it’s way down the scar across your eye, the one you received in your fight against Captain Flint so long ago. Back when you still gave a shit about him. Chills make their way down your spine as you begin to realize something that utterly terrifies you. You can’t see this one. You could always see the spirits, even after you woke back up, no matter how strong or weak they’ve been. But this one, you can’t see, you can’t hear, you can barely even sense its presence. Like it’s purposefully keeping itself hidden. But from what you can sense, it’s bad. Very bad. It almost feels familiar but you just can’t place it.

Shaking off the feeling, you finally step into the sunroom once again. As soon as you set foot in there though, the grate that had been firmly closed in front of the fireplace came crashing open as dozens of bats came flying out at you. In an instant, you threw yourself to the floor with a loud thud, narrowly avoiding them.

“Shit! (Y/N) are you okay?! What was that?” You hear Colby call from the kitchen.

“I’m fine! Just some bats, a little creeped out, but I’m okay.” You rise to your feet once you confirm the bats have all made their way upstairs. Figuring the noise you had heard came from the bats, you make your way back to the group in the kitchen. As soon as Colby sees you he reaches his hand out for you to grab and asks if you’re sure you’re okay.

“I’m okay, but we shouldn’t linger long. I have a bad feeling about this place. There’s something watching us, but I can’t see it.” You say taking Colby’s hand in yours. He immediately looks worried as he is the only one fully aware of the fact that you can still see spirits.

“You can’t… you’re sure?” Fear written all over his face, he begins looking around as well.

“I’m still here with you guys, alright? Everything’s-“ You’re cut off from trying to calm them all down by a loud, crystal clear, music note chiming across the house. You all freeze before slowly turning your head towards the sunroom once again.

“You’ve gotta be shitting me…” but before you can utter a single other word, you all hear plain as day: a beautiful interpretation of a song you hadn’t heard in a very long time. Coming from the piano that should by no means, be making any noise above a dull thud, let alone playing as clearly as it is. None of your friends can figure out why you just went as pale as a sheet as they wouldn’t have any way of being familiar with this song, for it was one sung on your old ship. One only members of your former crew should know.

“We need to leave. Immediately.” You don’t realize how badly you’re shaking until Colby rests a hand on your shoulder. You’re in the middle of trying to calm down so you can properly protect them when you hear something so jarring, it sends you to your knees. A deep, low hum, the note carrying out across the house.

“The king… and his men… stole the Queen from her bed…”

“What the hell is that?!” You hear Kat shriek from beside you. You’re now on the ground shaking so violently, you can no longer answer her. You now have a feeling as to who this could be. And you have the slightest inkling as to why this being would be so angry with you. Though the thing you can’t figure out is how he ended up here of all places. Somewhere so far from your home that it just doesn’t make sense.

“…and bound her in… her bones… the seas be ours… and by the powers… where we will… we’ll roam…” the deep, unsettling voice continued.

“You guys need to leave.” You tried convincing them to get out of the house. You so desperately didn’t want them to experience a remnant of your past. Especially one as jarring as this.

“Not a chance. I’m not leaving you here alone,” You hear Colby blurt out next to you. Before you can respond though, you hear everyone start screaming as you feel cool metal touch your neck. Right beside your ear, you hear a deep raspy voice say, “sing… the song… be reminded… of yer brethren…”

The touch of the blade seems to bring you back to your senses, as you’re suddenly calm and no longer shaking. You’re about to comply when you see another figure step out of the shadows. This new figure, you can see first off, but has a visible, heavy limp. Each step he takes, accompanied by a loud thump of wood on wood.

“Ye remember him… don’t ye? Or have… ye forgotten us… in this new life of yers…” the being behind you seems to spit out the words “new life”, as if the thought of you having anything remotely good happen would be a sin.

You finally manage to croak out a single word as tears begin streaming down your cheeks, your friends almost completely forgotten now: “John.”

You feel warm liquid trickle down your neck, indicating the skin had now been broken. More screams permeated your consciousness, bringing you back to the present. Looking up at Colby, who is now white as a sheet, you urge them to run. You make the correct assumption that they can at the very least see the blade at your throat. You’re not sure how much they can see but you aren’t taking any chances.

“I won’t leave you! Not after everything you’ve done for us!”

“Please, Colby. Take them and go. I’ll be right behind you,” you said, trying to sound calm and brave. Truth be known, you hadn’t been so afraid since before your death, but you couldn’t let them know that. Finally listening to you, Colby takes Sam and Kat’s hands and runs out of the house with them.

Letting out a sigh of relief you turn back to John, “why- what happened? Why are you here?”

Instead though, the being behind you speaks, “ye mean… ye didn’t hear… we lost… ye were right… shoulda listened to ya… they brought us here… to rot… shoulda just… hanged us wit’ our dignity…”

With this, your suspicions are confirmed. This being- no, this man behind you, is Captain Flint. Instead of being fearful though, you grow angry. So angry you can no longer even bring yourself to ask what happened to John’s leg. Your rage that had been building for over 300 years had finally boiled over. At Flint, Vane, Charleston, even John. Why? Why had they done that to you? You had been nothing but loyal to them. You did anything and everything Flint asked of you, going so far as to keep his stupid fucking secret from the crew! How many brothers had you lost because of them? How many lives were on your hands because of them? All you know is it was so many you still can’t wash off all the blood.

As your rage grows, so does your spirit energy. Something you came to realize you could still manipulate after returning to the physical world. Though instead of controlling it, your anger causes it to grow at a rate you had never experienced. Everything from furniture to photos start violently shaking as doors and cabinets slam open and shut.

“(Y/N)!!”

Whipping your head to your left, you see Colby.

“Colby… Ye silly scallywag… What on Earth are ye doing back here? I could hurt ye…” You think to yourself upon seeing him. But it’s too late, your power has already reached a cataclysmic point of seemingly no return. With the last bit of control you can muster, you send Colby flying back out of the house and slam the door shut.

As soon as the door slams to a close a scream rips from your throat and the last thing you see before blacking out is John reaching for you. You barely hear him say, “I’m sorry,” before your vision fades.

When you come back to you find yourself lying in bed. At home. But how? The last thing you remember is- oh… John. But what happened?

Climbing out of bed you see that you still have your clothes on from before. Though now for some reason your shirt has blood stains all over the collar. Stumbling your way into the living room you’re greeted with a gut wrenching sight. Kat in Sam’s arms, the both of them with tears streaming down their faces, and Colby sitting silently on the couch staring blankly ahead. You step out further and they are alerted to your presence. Kat quickly flings herself at you, sobbing all the while about how scared they were to find you “like that”. Sam gently tugs her away so Colby can step forward and take you in his arms. He squeezes like you’re going to disappear again.

“Guys… what happened back there?” You hesitantly ask them, having taken notice of the blood stained towels in the trash.

“We were so scared. We just… heard you scream and then bangingandthislightand-“ you cut Colby off as he begins speaking faster and faster. Assuming your role of group mom, you sit everyone on the couch so they can explain what happened. To make a long story short, apparently you accidentally blew the house up, sending the spirits over at the same time. When they found you you had been covered in wooden boards and debris, dirty but otherwise unharmed. Though they were highly alarmed to see blood coming from your nose, ears, and eyes. Which would explain your shirt and the towels. You calmly explain to them that there’s nothing to worry about, that just tends to happen when you overexert yourself. Though you have to contain your laughter at the bewildered looks you get from that comment.

You do ask them how they managed to get out of there without getting the attention of the authorities. You chuckle, shaking your head thinking to yourself, “ah, sink me… can’t take these scallywags anywhere,” as they tell you about grabbing you from the debris and high tailing it out of there before anyone had time to show up. “Well… they’d make decent pirates at least.”

You all take some time to decompress together in the living room before branching off to your respective rooms. Walking into your shared room with Colby you announce that you’re going to wash off all the dust and dirt from that house. You can practically feel him staring a hole in your back and you can’t decide whether it’s out of concern or intrigue. You decide to act on the latter and pull your shirt over your head as you walk into the bathroom, playfully tossing it behind you into the bedroom. Behind you you hear an excited little “Ooo!” followed by the pattering of footsteps. He rounds the corner as you’re shimmying out of your pants and turning the water on.

“So… does that shower have enough room for two?” You giggle, looking over your shoulder at him.

“Hm… I suppose it could… if only someone could help me out of the rest of my clothes.” You grin back at him sending him a wink. Turning back around you lift your hair up for him and almost immediately feel his gentle fingers on your spine. Letting out a soft sigh, you feel the clasp of your top come off. The feeling of his lips on your neck and his hands sliding down to your waistband takes over your senses and suddenly there’s only Colby. He’s all you can see, hear, feel. He’s the only thing you crave. Regaining just enough control you step under the warm water and gesture for Colby to follow you.

Since meeting Colby he’s become your happiness. Your entire world. And two years later he proves that you’re his world too. When he takes you to Nassau, back to your home, and proposes to you in the very fort where you spent most of your previous life.

The year following the beautiful proposal, you have your wedding. As Colby puts it, “One fit for a Pirate Queen.” The two of you spend the rest of your life together in bliss, hunting ghosts and chasing happiness.

*Thank you all SO SO MUCH for sticking with me through the Protect You series!! I’m so sorry for the long wait, as a reader I know how frustrating that can be, so I really appreciate you guys!!

**Tags:

@iwantsleepplz

@katie-tibo

@trashmouthsahra

@astropotato5

@givemethemaknaes16

@starsaroundmyscxrss

@somerandomrants

@chewisophogus

@kay-811

#colby brock #colby brock x ghost!reader #colby brock x reader #colby brock x y/n #ghost!reader #pirate!reader #sam and colby #protect you series #fanfic #protect you

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wisteriasymphony · 6 months ago

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Miraculous Mortality - Transmutation

CW: gun, body horror, blood and pus and ickiness :( also like. toxic yaoi vibes i guess

It had taken hours to find a suitable shelter—Hours that Jaqueline arguably did not have. Every bandage she once had was now coated with blood and pus, and the boils on her arm just continued to grow and burst and multiply like they fed off of her. Damn that Helix Vert—She could admit he'd pulled a fast one on her, but that was the last time she'd ever let that slimy bastard get that close.

Jaqueline huddled up against a wall, letting herself sink to the floor. She'd lost control over her good arm, too, making everything even harder. Her satchel needed to be opened with the same hand that held her gun, and that hand also had to—It was annoying, in short. If she had any bullets left before recharging, Jaqueline would track that bastard down and make sure to pay him back double for the mess she'd been put through.

Jaqueline fiddled with her revolver, sticking it to her jaw.

"Amalgam."

Jaqueline felt the path of the bullet through her skull, the feeling just as painful as always was. But it made watching her targets writhe in pain all the better, as she knew what it felt like when the copper shrapnel burned through flesh and spread a fire like no other through every nerve. She'd be catatonic for the next few minutes, and then just in debilitating pain for another hour—that was what made shelter so invaluable. If she'd dealt with it in the middle of a horde, she'd be dead meat. And if she was dead meat while the infection was still in her... that bastard Helix would have a carte blanche to her skillset. And there was no way in hell Jaqueline would let anyone take her gun, cause she was sure it was all she needed to be the last woman standing.

Her infected arm began to spasm, dripping pus onto the dirt and gravel as the infection was burned out. And it was never exactly pretty either—The boils and open wounds would suddenly explode in number, her arm splitting apart at the seams and spraying viscera everywhere. Jaqueline threw her head back against the wall, grinding her teeth from the pain. She'd get Helix good for this, she swore it. Tie him up with his own string, force him to grovel at her feet before she stamped his head through the ground with her boot. And if he didn't beg for mercy, she'd find a way to make him—stick her revolver against his head and force his brain to rewire. Imagination was the limit to Amalgam, and Jaqueline chose Iciss because she was as creative as she could be cruel.

The infection was nearly staved off—only mere remnants of the poison remained in the greenish-yellow tint of her veins. Through her grunting and panting, Jaqueline forced a smile; She could only imagine the look on Helix Vert's face when he realized just how easy it was to ruin his 'hard work'. It wouldn't be so easy the other way around, now would it?

Jaqueline's arm buzzed as she finally regained feeling in it. Still, she couldn't bring herself to move it, stretch the fingers that were seconds away from rotting off at one point—All she could do was lie there, drained and nauseous, until the pain fully subsided. It'd be a damn shame if she got jumped again, cause then she'd just have to fight through it instead of giving herself the luxury of a nice rest. But no matter what she put her body through, Jaqueline's spirit would never weaken or waver. She would never die.

-----

big thanks to...

@bakawitch (Creator of Miraculous Mortality AU)

@nocturnal-notes (Contributor for Beetum/Helix Vert/ I thought you would want to see this anyways :3 )

and whatever lovely individual contribued to Iciss hm i wonder who that could be guess we'll never know

#to start: i totally support mortality adrinette.#i love how their opposing powers were revamped to fit the au and i could SO ship it #....but can Jaqueline have a one-sided toxic psychosexual obsession with René #like she's just always thinking about how much she wants to kill him. to the point where it can't be classified as hate anymore #and rené is at most annoyed but is probably just wrapped up in other things #miraculous mortality #ml au #cw body horror #cw blood #cw guns #writing blurbs

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snailsgoingdowntown · 1 year ago

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Day 2 of (attempting) writing blade until he comes home.

Blade x fem! Reader

Two: mention of violence, ooc blade most likely.

Minors/blank/ageless blogs dni

This blog contains/interacts with/created dark content. Dni if you are uncomfortable with that.

Summary: In which blade gets the wrong idea and is currently planning out your brother's funeral.

He doesn't like to talk.

His silence is a warning, head cast down as the sunglasses cover his eyes - he's in disguise today, with a black beanie and new set of clothes. The only thing that remains is his hair style, and despite it being so... Unique, people don't notice. Maybe it's because that you're just so used to him that you could easily pick him out in a crowd.

Ironic considering you don't even know his name.

The train ride is bumpy, a little worn out on a planet you were dragged to (Your brother thought it would be a good idea to send you to another planet with a man you barely knew) and the man also seems annoyed at the situation as well. Probably pushed into it by the pretty lady with purple hair, shades used for nothing more than decoration on the top of her head.

The man before you felt more like a bodyguard than an actual travel companion.

Maybe that's why they sent him along with you - to make sure your blind date goes as planned.

"... So, uh, have you been here before?" Your gaze remains where your hands are, fingers messing with the garter strap on your thigh. It snaps against your tights, stinging the flesh underneath. Black was always a lovely color.

"No."

Deep, rumbling through his chest, the romantic in you swoons over his voice. The rational part of you gulps down the unease that comes with him. He's a ticking time bomb, temper hidden underneath a shallow layer of detachment from the world. He enjoys chaos too much to be completed detached.

You haven't been the victim of it yet, but from the way he fist fights your brother on the few occasions they agree to it, it's obvious he enjoys violence too much. Like he's a mad man barely holding on by a thinning thread.

"Ah. I see... I'm sorry for asking, but did uh... Did my brother say anything?"

"About?"

Your foot taps against the floor; how do you ask this? Would it make you seem snobbish? Or nervous or annoying even more so than you already are with him, or -

"The date."

It feels like time stopped. The awkwardness could be felt without even a word addressing it, and now you're glad that he inisited on sitting at the very back row, away from the other passengers.

The longer he stays quiet the more nervous you get.

You take a risk and glance at his face, only to see his brows furrow and lips in a scowl. It doesn't even take a second for your eyes to drop back down to your lap. Your heart is about to burst and you think you might cry if you don't yell, pressure building up in your chest, anxiety making way to your throat. You're sure he won't actually hit you, but the aura surrounding him is still fearful and dark regardless.

"... Date? Is that why you're all dressed up?

If wearing a knee length lavender dress with sheer sleeves is dressing up, you wonder what is idea of formal wear is. It's causal at best, no effort put into it, old heeled boots instead of cute heels, ponytail instead of a complex braid. Everything your brother didn't want.

"Ah, I guess you didn't know..., " your head droops, "but um, yeah. He organized a date for me." You croak out, masking the tremble with a laugh. You might die from stress at this rate.

You can hear him heave out a sigh, the farbic of his pants ruffling as he crosses one leg over the other. He sounds annoyed, almost growling out, even;

"I don't date."

... Did you hear that right?

Your head snaps back up, blinking at the man across from you. He can't think... Does he?

"... Um... The date isn't you. I think they sent you here to keep an eye on me."

The rest of the ride is silent as you realize misunderstandings are bound to happen from here on out if your brother doesn't tell both him and you everything.

"I hope you have enough money for a funeral."

#hsr #hsr blade #blade x reader #blade honkai #honkai star rail blade #hsr x reader

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hoppingonjim · 1 year ago

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learning love again (i) - holland march

chapter one. summary: i really wanted to make a little fic about holland meeting his old love again and again throughout the course of his life. so here we go! cw: mentions of losing virginity, talk of america/political views of war, brief mentions of the vietnam war

she was eighteen when they met. and nineteen when the military swept him away. it was for america and back then she could understand, there was no higher pleasure for a man than dying with stars and stripes adorning his heart. there was no greater shame than hiding behind a borderline.

a street lamp was the first time his eyes soaked her up. limbs crossed over, back against a void of color. with the eyes of bardot and the body of cardinale he swore he fell in love. did her mind possess curie? a streep lamp stalked above him as he inquired her for her name.

“mary.”

“that's my mom's name. that was also jesus' mom's name.”

“that's nice.”

the woman only gave a smile. eyes glanced upwards to the canopy that flickered above, “what's your name?” the boy would only watch for a brief second, fingering his pocket for a pack and lighter.

“holland,” soon a companion of a light screamed between them, making messy love to the stick suddenly dangling below his cupids bow, “my mom liked the country holland. so. now i'm named holland.”

“ah.” the closeness grew far. the repellence of smoke sniggering in her nostrils. until they flared, “i don't like people who smoke.”

in a matter of seconds the cigarette found the soles of his boot, “that better for you?”

a smile dressed itself in the light swirling above, “yes.” when her wrist grew itchy of her curfew she suddenly kept the distance between the two close, “i'll catch you later, okay holland?”

she was eighteen when he dressed her in a luxury menu. treated her eyes to the cul-de-sac of spaghetti. the vines and checkered table cloths that draped over glossed wood. an ambiance of gold and the adriatic.

“what's the cheapest thing on the menu?”

“you're not getting the cheapest thing.”

a crinkle popped from the furrowing of her eyebrows, quizzically she watched him, “what do you mean? it's not cheap here. i don't want to blow money..”

that sentence would see its hand once holland gave her a swooshed hand motion, “you're yapping. i'm paying. buy what you want.”

she was eighteen when he alleviated a confession with a staggering stutter.

“i t-think i l-love you.”

tangled limbs resting in limp sheets. joints deep in discombobulated slumber while the sun beckoned for a crowing rooster. navy coating her clothed back. navy encapsulating his matching boxers.

“think or you do?” her voice bore no volume. a mingling whisper.

“i do.”

“i do too.”

she was eighteen when he held a virgin in his arms, nineteen when his sheets were the last to feel virginity. nineteen and lonesome, she wore the title of his only companion. in those navy sheets roses fell scattered and trampled. his parents enjoyed their slumber next door as they made love, innocently. giving their minds over to passion and their bodies to the palm of the other. with moans waltzing with low groans, the gentle sun remained hushed. the sudden man snapped his hips, celestial bodies tuned into comic ballads. beethoven's symphony ringing out with every muffled crack that leaped from her voice. breathless and panting.

"holland, how are you not worried about- holland, oh my god you're inside of me- oh my god your dick is- oh-"

"doesn't it feel wonderous?"

the suns kiss on the wavering weeds outside stood a void from inside the window pane. and when she gave herself to him, and he found a climax, their bodies fell into one. the velvet curtain closing as the scent of diminished chastity grew thick. a question echoed about his first time and in came a lie. vulnerability husky under the guise. and while they tip toed under their new title to the washing machine he swore to himself his lips would never behold the truth. his virginity was washed up on those sheets too.

she was nineteen when home seemed like a good option. here was the time for picnic play of war to unveil a realistic shoulder. for little boys to mold into their mossed figurines. under a street lamp she found squalor plucked on her knees. the collection of rain fall staining a once stunning plaid hem. the velvet curtain withdrawing to the sight of her hands gripping onto the bulk of his jean clad thigh.

“stay, please-america will never know. just stay, stay?”

the girl he had assisted into transcending womanhood mirrored a child once more. breaking over. porcelain lips shattering with every deafening word. his own were lost on the train he was sure he would be taking. a mind heavy on decision and a heart torn with two sacrifices.

“i love my country mary, right now america needs to be my love.”

“will america remember if you die though? i will! i'll remember if you die! i'll remember your name holland, and your eyes.. america will call you lifeless and put you in a bin of meaningless men. just stay with me.. please.”

“get off the sidewalk mary.” a tone imitating the wading winds that croaked the downfall.

“you aren't being made to.”

“i'm staying with america, mary.”

“but i love-”

“go home mary.”

she was nineteen when she was thrown the pitiful ending with her knees soaking up abandoned down pours. the array of dusted water pooling around her once pure white dress. on the sidewalk she surrendered to fate with rain soaking her flag.

he was twenty one when he took a train. when he casted aside her letters that piled on his front stoop. distractions were something he couldn't tear himself from. on the train he sat with empty pads beside him, the others crammed ahead. their eyes gaunt at the faces of their weeping future widows. swallowing his affection, his eyes found his creased palms. still he felt blessed to feel her touch, to dance with streams of her stranded tresses. to guide her into the land of absolute pleasure he could grant. with a grumbling stomach he continued to feel full of home made mac and cheese. the only dinner she could properly serve. in his lips he could taste the entire year he knew her for. from when he questioned her identity to when he left her questioning his heart.

she was twenty one when she spotted a doppelgänger of the man she wasted pens on. where she discarded stamps.

“is that, holland?”

her sister, tall and eclectic, wondered aloud. her neck claimed by a dangling ring gifted by the man that had rang their doorbell numerous times in one week. all mary could remember about the man was that he was taller, muscular, his name was either jackson or jake- mary was unable to remember.

with a tense throat she glanced at the man who had clutched her butterfly heart in the creased palm of his hand before he'd drop the butterfly into a discarded moth. the man who ushered her thorned moans into his ears, the boy who made earnest love to her on navy sheets.

“no.. i don't- no..” a stammer pushed through. the sight of a scraggly man holding the mature hand of a golden decorated lady.

mary glanced down at her very own strands of hair. plain brown.

she was twenty one when she realized it indeed was the real man. the con artist bishop.

#the nice guys #holland march fic #holland march x you #holland march x reader #holland march smut #holland march #jackson healy x reader #jackson healy #the nice guys fic #the nice guys smut #the nice guys 2016

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mlm-writer · 11 months ago

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Synonyms for Penis (Shrek x Deadpool)

Pairing: Shrek x Wade Wilson aka Deadpool Rating: Explicit Words: 1361 POV: Third Summary: The Big Tober Day 28 - Annual Shrek fic Note: DID NOT EVEN PROOFREAD THIS BECAUSE I DO NOT WISH TO READ THIS AFTER WRITING IT (Pic credit I am so glad someone else had the same idea) Tags: Shrek's [insert synonym for big] [insert synonym for penis], satire (or is it), 4th wall breaks, there is a little angst at the beginning for some reason, belly bulge, manhandling, unprotected sex, he growls uwu and cumflation

“Don’t you think it is… odd?” Shrek questioned as Wade pushed him into the armchair. The light from the fireplace made the merch seem like just a silhouette as the red-clad fool made himself at home in the ogre’s lap.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Wade cooed, before grinding all over his green companion. “Why would anyone want this? Who wants Shrek smut and who would ship a sexy, sturdy man with a green daddy? Well, let me tell you, papi, sometimes it is irony that drives the mind, but there is no telling when irony becomes something more.” Shrek had no fucking clue what Wade was on about. His facial expression said it all, but as per usual, Wade paid it no mind.

Wade nuzzled Shrek's muscular neck. Shrek could feel the rough material of the mask against his sensitive skin. This was not their first time, but Shrek also felt like they had not swapped enough bodily fluids that it was his place to question the mask. He had seen every other part of his friend and he thought it was safe to assume the scarring extended to the human's face. “Hey my honeydew melon, stay focused.” Shrek blinked and hummed, mentally pulled away from the questions that plagued his mind. “I know that look my delicious lime.”

Wade booped Shrek's nose. The ogre looked up at the human in his lap with his big, chocolate brown orbs. “You do?” The merc couldn't help but think that the man whom people referred to as a monster looked nothing but cute. Unfortunately, he knew that look too well. Shrek wanted more. Not in the sense of a relationship - or maybe he did what did Wade know anyway - but something that felt much more intimate. If Wade thought about it for more than a second, there was no reason to assume Shrek would be repulsed by his face. However, Wade had never had a single thought in his life.

Wade reached behind him to start unzipping his suit. Shrek immediately reached out to help. The ogre might be better at freeing Wade from the costume than Wade himself. Marred skin appeared from underneath red fabric. Wade had to stand up for a moment to remove his boots so he could get rid of the suit. “Another time, ok?” Shrek understood. The mask was the last line of defence, the barrier that held together the pieces that made up the merc with a mouth. The ogre gave a nod. Then the human was on his knees, helping him get rid of his pants. Wade was not even attempting to fully undress Shrek. As soon as the deep green, hefty pole was revealed, Wade had his tongue on it, lapping at the onion-flavoured precum staining the thick, mushroom-shaped tip. Shrek’s grip on the chair tightened, his mud brown eyes focused on the bit of skin that was revealed from Wade pulling his mask up just below the nose. He had seen that textured chin before; it drove him crazy.

The edge of the mask scraped along Shrek’s long dong as Wade ran his tongue over the entire 10 inches and counting. The ogre was not at full hardness yet, but with the way Wade’s scarred hands glided over his member slick with the merc’s saliva, it would not be long until Shrek was at his full 15 inches. Shrek rid himself of his shirt. His thick fingers fumbled with the laces on his clothes, but he managed. He couldn’t see Wade’s eyes, but he sure could feel them latching onto every sliver of exposed, chartreuse flesh.

The contrast of his dad bod against Wade’s toned form used to make the sensitive ogre self-conscious, but with his chest exposed, the human on his knees sounded downright pornographic. Wade had never been subtle about how horny he was whenever Shrek showed some skin. The human seemed to be impatient, forgoing the rest of his blowjob and making himself at home again in Shrek’s lap. Shrek put his huge hands onto Wade’s slim waist. “What are you doing?” He inquired in near panic, the idea of Wade taking him without any prep chilling him to the bone.

Wade reached behind him, holding Shrek’s long John in between his luscious cheeks. “Don’t you worry about a thing, daddy,” Wade cooed as he rose as high as he could to press the emerald tip against his puffy wet hole. Shrek tightened his grip onto Wade’s hips, firmly asking him to let him at least finger him a bit. Wade sighed as dramatically as it was loud. “Shrek, babes, it’s the 31st of December and this was supposed to happen on the 28th of October. You realise how overdue our fuckfest is and now you want to keep the writer from joining his family on the couch just for a little fingering scene? Fuck that, let’s get to the real deal; it’s overdue.”

Shrek had once again no fucking clue what Wade was on about, but he could not exactly protest. The head of his massive schlong slipped right into Wade’s tight hole. The green hunk let out an inhuman growl, perhaps because he was not a human. Wade rode the head with no problem as if he had been stretched already. However, Shrek had no memory of Wade ever having the time to sneak off without him to do that in the past hours they spent together. “How?” he grunted out in the split second of clarity he had to speak. Right after that single syllable left his exquisite lips, he could not say anything, only moan in ecstacy.

“Fanfic logic, baby,” Wade replied with a shit-eating grin, before pushing himself down onto Shrek’s enormous plonker. He was barely halfway and he already felt like that green baguette was about to exit through his throat on the other side. He rose up a little, trying to coax his body into taking more, but it wouldn’t give.

“Where is your fanfuck or whatever logic now?” Shrek growled impatiently. Wade huffed and prepared to give it another shot, but Shrek gripped him firmly and lifted him all the way off his piss weasle. “Since you’re so eager to get speared through like a shish kebab, let me help you.” Shrek stood up, kicked his shoes and pants off and manhandled Wade face down ass up onto the cold floor of his swamp estate. He grabbed Wade’s back melons, spreading them wide. The merc’s hole was gaping wide, but they both knew Wade could do better. He guided his pickle back into the winking shithole in front of him.

The angle was better, but now Shrek could also use his own strength to shove his colossal meat stick inside his human fuckdoll. Wade gasped as more and more green sausage was forced inside him. Just when he thought he had it all, he didn’t feel hefty balls pressing against his backside. It was never-ending, exquisite torture. Shrek seemed to not care about Wade’s pleasure at all, a single focus on making the shreksiest merc ever envelop his entire spawn hammer.

And when he did, both men were delirious with gratification. Wade collapsed, unable to keep his body up, but fortunately Shrek had him. The ogre moved his hands to get a better grip, only to feel the clear outline of his immense piston through the sweat-slicked skin of his personal whore. His last grip on humanity left him, hips rapidly moving on their own to feel that outline move with it. He didn’t know how long he was railing Wade when he felt semen cover the hand feeling up the outline of his love rod. He didn’t know how long he kept going after that like an animal.

“Just fucking cum already! We’re running out of synonyms for penis over here, unless you want the writer to start using things like baloney pony,” Wade wailed. It was shortly after - for my own sanity - that the outline of Shrek’s flesh flute became less and less obvious, Wade’s belly expanding due to the copious, excessive load being dumped inconceivably deep inside his guts.

—————

REBLOG TO SUPPORT YOUR FANFIC WRITERS

Likes do not help exposure!A comment in tags or replies can sustain a writer for months!

#shrek #deadpool #wade wilson #shrek x deadpool #shrek x wade wilson #shrekpool #kinktober #gay #shreksy #daddy shrek #i hate myself #this hurts me too #marvel #mcu #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #marvel imagine #mcu imagine #imagine deadpool getting railed by shrek what

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cupidsarows · 28 days ago

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Cupid's Arrows

Hotel California

The old belief is that Cupid will strike you with an arrow to make you fall in love. These days due to scientific research, we know that love is actually caused by a complex chemical reaction in the brain… maybe.

Chapter One

Maybe they were looking for each other, maybe someone set them up, maybe they met purely by chance. They met on the subway, or in the office or just on the street or in a coffee shop, Wherever two people fall in love it is there that we meet Romance incarnate, their doe eyes sit above freckles scattered sparingly across their limestone colored face like stars in the light polluted sky. Multi-shaded brown hair cascades wildly about their head, coming to rest just above their shoulders.

Romance is carrying their half drunk iced coffee in one hand, the name on it says Rowan. As they walk into the coffee shops restroom they cross to the sink. After examining a spot above their cupids bow lips in the mirror they begin rubbing their eyes. At first, a few specks of pink eyeshadow fall into the sink but after a few seconds the particles of pink begin to fizz and spark as they fall, swirling around Rowan until all that’s left is the empty coffee cup that they had set on the counter.

Chapter Two

Rowan appears, not in the sky but in a plane that looks a lot like it. Vast, white marble floors extend as far as the eye can see interrupted by the occasional pillared temple opening onto the endless baby blue sky. They wear a polyester turtleneck with a heart-cutout below the neckline.

“Rowan! You’re back!”

Exclaims a young girl in a blue bow and frilly blue and white dress.

“Come on, Mr. C’s waiting for you!”

As she grabs Rowans hand and pulls them forward her other hand brushes the dirty blond hair out of her cerulean eyes and even though Rowan has had a long day, the girls energy is infectious and soon they are running together and giggling. Suddenly she stops, panting, and points Rowan to one of the temples. She walks away as they step forward.

In the temple, on a fold up chair, sits a devilishly handsome figure with sleek white hair pulled back into a stylish man bun. He is wearing Ray-bans and gold jewelry on top of his white tuxedo jacket and matching shirt. His feet are propped up on the long folding table so that you can see his heavy black leather boots and he is leaning so far back in his chair that Rowan is astonished he hasn’t tipped over.

“Well, you certainly took your sweet time,”

Mr. C surveys Rowan over the top of his sunglasses with piercing gold eyes,

“So did you make anyone fall in love?”

Rowan stands a little taller, trying to impress Cupid.

”Yes sir, twenty seven different couples, all European based but I’m planning on hitting the eastern countries tomorrow.”

“Ok? Will they stay together or what?”

“Well-”

“And you know, I’ve been thinking R, you pride yourself on your little matchmaking abilities but I don’t think it’s worth it, you’re severely behind your quota, if you ask me I think you should just start pairing anyone together.”

“But-”

“Also,”

As Cupid continues to berate Rowan a voice growls “I’d have expected you to be happier on your ‘special day’ Cupid.”

“A pleasure to see you too darling '' Mr. C retorts as he rolls his eyes and resumes his chair leaning.

“We’re all ready for your speech, so why don’t you give it instead of picking them apart.” Blaze growls again as he gestures towards Rowan.

One by one the temple fills with dazzling people who take their seats at the table: a small child wearing yellow overalls, a woman with an hourglass body in a tight purple dress, a man wearing a green and dark green checkered suit and finally the girl in blue comes bounding back in cheerfully and begins talking to the overalled boy.

“Everyone be quiet and sit down, ”Commands Mr. C in a loud, strong voice. Blaze mutters something under his breath as he leans against a pillar, picking at his black ripped jeans.

“Ah, you always were a rather pointy arrow weren’t you? Well, you may stay standing.

Moving on, as you all know today is my ‘special day’, Valentines Day. We celebrate every year and every year I am just so disappointed in all of you. Valentine's Day is about love, so why am I not feeling more love in the world? As my arrows you are a direct representation of my power. You should all be taking your jobs much more seriously than this. R is already behind his quota, Objective you’re not doing much better, Familial, there are families out there that hate each other. What are you doing all day?! Platonic, you’re slacking off too. Hate, Shallow, you two are fine but that’s not necessarily great for everyone else, keep doing whatever you’re doing. So…”

Chapter Three

It is about an hour and a half later that Rowan is sitting on his soft bed in his room picking over a piece of ripe melon that he hears a ‘rap-tap-tap’. As he opens his door he is surprised to see Cupid standing there.

“Hey R, can we talk?” Not waiting for an answer, he brushes past Rowan onto the bedside and moves the melon to a spot on the carpet.

“I know you’re technically done for the day but I had a thought and I was hoping you would hear me out?”

Cupid takes off his jacket and glasses, his appearance now contrasting his earlier confidence.

“I thought it might help you to have a larger quota, so that you can’t put too much effort into one couple. It might make you faster.”

Rowan sits on the bed next to him.

“Cupid- Mr. C, it’s not something that can be rushed, I am romance, it’s not something that just happens. It takes time and effort and I’m still matching a large amount of people everyday, about as much as the others.”

Cupid scoffs and says “You can handle it R, besides, it doesn’t actually matter wether the people like each other in the first place, you can just make them like each other.

“No, I really can’t.”

Distressed, Rowan stands up and turns to fully face Cupid,

“Everyone has a subconscious bias in who they love. All I do is bring it to the surface. While theoretically I could force two people in love, the two would be miserable.”

Cupids posture suddenly shifts, leaning forward slightly, looking up at Rowan with his beautiful aureate eyes “Would you do it for me though?”

Cupid stands up, only a few inches shorter than Rowan, he lets his hand brush theirs,

““We used to be so good together,”

Rowan breaths a deep sigh, unable to keep his checks from blushing. There had been a time when they had let their crush get the better of them and anything Cupid wanted was carried out. But as Rowan didn’t feel that way anymore. How could he ever love someone who wanted to control others the way Cupid did.

“I’m sorry Cupid- Mr. C, try asking Pheobe or Owen.” Cupid suddenly gets up and walks to the doorway.

“I’m sorry you feel that way R. Goodnight.”

Cupid snaps the door shut coldly and Rowan lays back in his bed feeling strangely numb. He must’ve dozed off because when he wakes up, it’s morning and the woman in the purple dress from the night before is standing in his doorway.

Chapter Four

“Rowan? What happened between you and Cupid? I saw him walking to the doorway and he wouldn’t say anything to me. I think he’s angry, you were the last person to see him…”

Rowan jolts upright. “Sylvia what do you mean?”

“Exactly what I said, Cupid’s leaving, he’s going somewhere.”

As soon as the words leave Sylvia’s mouth Rowan is running out the door to scan the nearby area for Cupid. Because of his white jacket, Cupid blends in perfectly with the endless white floor. Rowan runs to where he knows there is an entrance to earth and there he sees Cupid preparing to step through the golden doorway.

“Mr.C! Wait!”

“Hmm? What’s all the fuss about R?”

Rowan uses his body to block Cupid from the door, trying in a desperate attempt to make himself heard.

“I’m sorry about last night, that’s what you want to hear right? I can’t help my nature, you made me this way but maybe I can work on it?”

Cupid sneers, his voice suddenly becoming malicious and cutting. “Oh, Romance, I should have done this a long time ago, but what a fool I was.”

Cupid turns his head up as if he can’t even look at Rowan and with a careless flick of his wrist, Rowan feels a force like a charging bull slamming into him, knocking him through the doorway and onto earth.

#cupids arrows #CA #writing #writers on tumblr #writeblr #my writing #writing community #writers #currently writing #creative writing #romance arrow #romance

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rosewriteroyal · 5 months ago

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Rebellion

Part 1: The mysterious Girl

Dann x Fem Reader Apocalypse AU

Warnings: Blood/Gore, Swearing

Synopsis: Its been 5 years since the Virus broke out and K.D took controling the investigation into the cure. The land was a desert, nature has taken over, the safe houses now the only havens around and they are hard to gain residence two. On a mini run, Dann, Louis and Mujin bump into a mysterious girl in a mall, blood running down her arm

They thought they found the cure, the cure to a mysterious disease that's source was never found. Governments all come together to wonder how to solve the issue, but it was too late

This disease was a zombie virus, incurable. Slowly, the reports increased, counting every walker that appeared, country populations being whipped out in seconds.

It had been 5 years since the outbreak. The organisation K.D was formed, they tried everything to make a cure, worked with governments, their option was to drop bombs on large areas of infected, this just killed and destroyed cities and populations of non infected. So they moved to science, trying to find any way humans can be immune to the disease at hand.

CRACK! The rubble and debris of the old mall sounded under the heavy boots of someone. It was silent, very silent, unlike what it would have been 5 years ago before the virus. Kids, teens, and adults would be talking and screaming, the sounds of radio playing the new hit song would be blurring from the speakers, now it's decimated, left to nature.

"Be careful!” A voice sounded behind

"I will” another voice replied, the leader Dann. He had taken 3 of his group on a scavenge to find supplies, not knowing how long it would be until they found another mall or shop around.

"I wonder if there's any walkers in here. I'd hate that” another voice said, hiding behind the broader one. Mujin and Louis, they grew up together, attached at the hip. Where one goes the other goes, Louis volunteered to join Dann on this adventure, Mujin went because of that. A lot of people wonder how the guy has survived just being a leech of Louis.

They slowly walked deeper into the mall, the ropes and wires from the once working lights, ends, and exposed copper wire hung dangerously towards the ground. They spotted an old pharmacy, this is what they needed. They had joined a safe house a few months ago, and one of the children has fallen ill, luckily not by the disease but by a cold that has turned to pneumonia.

"Right, let's see if we can find any medicine and also food and water” Dann whispered as he walked through the old entrance and up towards the old medicine isle, while Louis and Mujin walked towards the little shop situated next door, finding anything food and water since the next large outing won't be until a couple weeks later.

Any noise would echo the halls and that's when they heard the sound of foots steps, running, ever step louder than the first, it was human for sure as walkers are slow, they hobble towards you in packs but this was a single person. Drawing his gun, Dann stopped packing his bag with medicine and creeper to the entrance, gun loaded and ready to shoot. As soon as the footsteps got closer, he pointed the gun out…

He stopped. It was a girl around his age. She panted as she held her arm, wincing a few times. She looked up at the Dann

"Sorry if I scared you. May the entire group is dead because of some walkers, Im lucky, I guess” Chuckling to herself as she tried to slow her breathing, Dann looked at her arm, worried at the condition. Not everyone had water, clean water to disinfect wounds

"Your arm, let me look” Dann said softly, and the girl backed away

"I wouldn't” the girl said

"Why. Where you bitten” Dann said, sliding the gun out his pocket again

"...” The girl looked down, Dann took it as a yes and pointed the gun back to her, right in the middle of her forehead

"When did it happen” Dann asked. He didn't want to kill her, but after watching his mother and brother turn, he knew it was for the best

"This one was recently, maybe about a couple of minutes ago. My first one was 5 years ago and see still kicking around” Dann eyes widened. She had been bitten not once but twice and hasn't changed

"What are you? No one is immune. That's what K.D. said” The girl looked up

"I don't know what's wrong, i think I'm immune…My name is Y/N, by the way” She smiled at him, and Dann pulled the gun down

"I'm Dann. Let me bandage that bite up and clean it. I'll take you back to the safe house and we can talk more there” He stepped closer and grabbed her non bleeding arm dragging her towards the medicine isle he was just in, he saw Mujin and Louis waiting

"Who’s that? Your secret Girlfriend, ah man I knew you could do it” Louis hatred his back “I'm Louis, this us my partner in crime as we call it Mujin” He smiled and looked down eyes widening on fear “SHE'S BEEN BITTEN”

"Guys, guys. It's okay, she might be immune” Dann said, and Mujin looked puzzled

"Immune, but that's not possible” he said, digging in his bag for bandages and handing them to Dann as he sat Y/N on a chair, cleaning and dressing the bite

"So what we going to do with her” Mujin asked

"Take her back to the safe house, have Ivan fully dress the wound and try and figure out how the fucking hell she's immune and why K.D lied all these years” Dann explained as he helped Y/N stand up, picking up his bag with the medicine and handing some to Y/N “Painkillers”

"Thank you Dann” Y/N took two of the pills and swallowed them, following the three strangers out the mall into the sunlight

"So, how you end up in the mall” Louis asked as he struck up a conversation for the long walk ahead

"I was with my group. There were 5 of us, all friends and my sister. We were looking for supplies to last us a couple days, when we were attacked by the Walkers, i only survived with a bite and a few scratches” Y/N smiled a bit thinking back to the group, all of the girls where like sisters, it's was said but they had good times.

"We never got your name” Mujin said

"Y/N”

"That’s really pretty” Louis commented and Y/N smiled.

It was a long journey back to the safe house but a safe one, it would be about a day to walk but they area was cleared so no Walkers would be able to attack unless they broke through the fencing, the tall buildings, the green ivy and other weeds it was pretty, something out of a apocalypse film but sadly it was reality, the world was truly gone and only a few people left, the end of humanity who knew it would be pretty.

#kingdomkpop #kingdom #kingdom dann #kingdom mujin #kingdom louis #Kingdom x reader #Dann x reader #night air network

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carewyncromwell · 1 year ago

Text

"Started out on a one-way train -- Always knew where I was gonna go next -- Didn't know until I saw your face I was missin' out on every moment..."

x~x~x~x

HPHM Cardverse developed by @ariparri // read more about "the Counselor" Duncan Ashe here! // See Jacob as Duncan's Right-Hand Man // credit for the new and improved physics lecture goes to @ag907!! Thank you, sweetie!! 💚

x~x~x~x

It wasn't a surprise to much of anyone when Duncan Ashe became the Jack of Spades. He had become a well-respected member of the previous Jack's court even while still at university, and even throughout his schooling, he was known for being both incredibly driven and ambitious. Even if yes, he also became a bit of a rulebreaker upon befriending Coby McQuaid, his strong work ethic and cleverness were never to be questioned. Combine this with a good sense of dress, and most would agree the young man embodied the part of someone who would easily climb the social ladder.

Duncan Ashe knew where he was going. He was going to be successful, and he was going to do it by beating out all of his competition both academically and in life overall. And that is why he took on the responsibility of working under the Jack of Spades, Ulrich Scheller, while also being a full-time student at the University of Spades. It did result in a lack of sleep, sure, and it did make it so he often had to finish homework in strange locations, such as in the middle of press conferences and against the wall of his dormroom while he got dressed in the morning...but it would all be worth it, in the end. Even if he had to finish up complex physics assignments while sitting on the way-too-full trolley heading out of the capitol, Duncan shrugged it off and just kept going.

Or, at least, he did, when he didn't have random strangers standing next to him on the trolley distracting him.

"Physics, huh? That's fun."

Duncan looked up.

Standing over him was a modestly-sized, rather messily-dressed young man about his age with curly dark hair, carrying a beat-up old leather bag at his side. Unlike Duncan, who was dressed in a well-tailored vest and slacks, this person was dressed for hard labor, with his pants tucked into a pair of scuffed-up black boots and faded oil and grease stains on his long-sleeved linen shirt. Even the muscles outlined under his long sleeves were a good indicator that this person was more of a "blue collar" sort than Duncan was.

"What's this? Fourier transforms?" the young man pointed a grubby finger to Duncan’s homework assignment.

Completely taken aback and lost for words, Duncan nodded yes.

"Oh, that's fun!" the stranger said brightly. His almond-shaped blue eyes were very bright as he examined the homework Duncan had in his lap. "You've gotten your sines and cosines mixed up, though -- I think that's what's holding you up on the second one. See, the integral of cosine is sine, not the other way around. Oh, and the answer is supposed to be negative -- we don't use absolute value here. Personally I've always preferred Laplace transforms over Fourier, but they aren't as applicable in physics. The only reason Laplace transforms really took off at all was because of that one fascist prat in Hearts who studied them a long while back -- forgot his name, I'll have to ask Mum -- but even if he was a creep in his politics, he did bring Laplace transforms into the modern era. Reckon people would've had to develop an entirely different way to solve higher order differential equations without them..."

For a moment, all Duncan could do was blink blankly. Finally, like a rubber band, Duncan's surprise and utter disbelief snapped back into defensiveness. He slapped his arms roughly over his work to cover it.

"All right!" he said, his face flushed a bit despite himself. "You've -- you've certainly made your point..."

Duncan couldn't help but goggle a bit.

"Are you a math major or something?" he asked. His black eyes lingered on the boy's dirty shirt and toned arms. Surely not -- any self-respecting university student would have to dress better than this --

The young man, though, only grinned. "Nah, no university for me. I didn't even finish high school."

Duncan's mouth fell open. "You didn't even finish -- ?"

You have got to be kidding me. Some high school drop-out is standing here giving me a lecture about how to do my physics homework?

"Well, the schools up north aren't the greatest -- after a while, I just kind of got fed up," said Jacob. "Plus it's not like getting straight A's or gold stars is any actual indication of intelligence -- it's really more indicative of how well you can jump through hoops, and well, even dumb animals in a circus can do that..."

Duncan flushed, offended.

"And yet those 'dumb animals' could do it, while you couldn't," he said sharply.

"Guess I just like applying my brain to more useful activities," the young man said with a shrug.

"Like fixing mechanical horses and streetcars, I suppose?" Duncan said very dryly, shooting another condescending look at the oil stains on the man's collar.

"Sure," the young man said brightly, not sounding the least bit offended. "Though that's only Mondays and Wednesdays -- got Pik's on Tuesday and Thursday and the library on Fridays..."

He abruptly looked up through the window with slight surprise.

"...Hey, don't you get off here? This is the university."

Duncan realized with a start that the trolley was driving on, passing the university.

With a bolt of panic, he shot up out of his seat, his papers spilling out over the floor so he could get up and pull the string.

"Stop! Stop the trolley!"

The trolley came to a screeching halt. Grumbling in anxiety under his breath, Duncan quickly stuffed his papers into his briefcase and then hurriedly stumbled off the car and off to class.

It wasn't until Duncan took a catalogue of all of his paperwork at home that night that he realized he was missing one page of the physics assignment he'd been working on. He grumbled sourly to Coby about it and the stupid guy on the trolley that made it so he'd now have to do the work all over again for close to a hour, before finally giving up and turning in for the night. He'd just have to work on it tomorrow.

You can imagine Duncan's surprise, therefore, when the following morning, the trolley driver actually handed Duncan a piece of paper after he paid her for the ride as usual.

"Jacob wanted me to give this to you, if I saw you," she said with a wry smile. "He worked on it for the rest of his trolley ride home yesterday -- he saw the due date was in three days, so he hoped I could get it to you before then."

Duncan stared. The page was covered with equations, all scrawled in exquisite detail despite the messiness of the writing.

The stranger who had to be named "Jacob" had finished not only the problem Duncan had been struggling with, but all of them.

~*~

Duncan didn't collide with Jacob again the rest of that week. His hours at Pik's (which turned out to be a tavern -- Coby had heard of it, even if Duncan hadn't) seemed to start very early in the morning, way before Duncan was even out of bed, and whatever library Jacob was assigned to, it must not have been on the route the trolley took into the capitol. Even on the weekend, Jacob was nowhere to be found -- likely taking some well-earned time off at home, Duncan presumed. And so the university student didn't have any potential chance to follow up with Jacob about him having done his work for him until the following week, after Duncan got the assignment back. And when Duncan did see Jacob again, it wasn't on his afternoon trolley ride south to the university -- it was through the trolley's window.

That Monday, Duncan's entire day had gotten off to a terrible start when the trolley's doors had gotten stuck in a half-open position, making it unable to run. As fate would have it, though, Jacob had been at the following stop, and upon being tipped off to the trolley's problem, he ran several blocks up to go help. Soon he'd rolled up his long sleeves and taken a toolkit out of his worn brown bag and immediately set about taking the door apart to fix it.

Duncan looked through the window, tilting his head to try to get a better look at what Jacob was doing.

The curly-haired young man had completely removed the door from the trolley and was now cleaning the interior, scraping out the gunk on the inside and lubricating the rusted hinges with oil. His muscles -- exposed by his rolled-up sleeves -- bulged slightly as he hoisted the door into place and held it there with one arm while screwing the hinge back on with his free hand. His bicep flexed while holding the heavy door, making veins pulse to life through his pale skin.

He was strong.

Duncan caught himself staring and mentally slapped himself. Good thing too, because the very next moment Jacob looked up and caught Duncan's eye through the window.

Jacob blinked, his blue eyes widening just a bit. Then they lit up and he gave a happy little nod, unable to wave due to his hands being full.

"Hey, Ashe!" he greeted.

Duncan was taken aback. "...You know my name?"

"The driver told me," said Jacob. "At least she said she thought that was your name...she caught a glimpse of your student ID once, and she thought it said 'Ashe.' And she reckoned you kind of looked like the rest of the Ashe family -- not that I'd know, never much been anywhere downtown..."

Duncan's lips came together just a bit. He'd never been very close to his family -- his father in particular -- so the reminder that people could see any physical resemblance wasn't particularly cheery.

"The name's Duncan Ashe," he said briskly. "And you would be Jacob, right?"

"Right! Jacob Cromwell," the curly-haired man responded offhandedly.

Duncan raised his eyebrows. "Cromwell? As in the Diamond Empire jewelers?"

Jacob's eyes flashed with dislike. "They're my mum's family. But we don't talk to those prats."

Duncan felt a pang of empathy, thinking of his own family. Something a bit more serious then flickered through Jacob's expression.

"...Were you able to turn in that assignment on time?" Jacob asked. "I hoped you hadn't gotten through it all a second time, by the time you got it back."

Duncan felt his cheeks actually darken with a light flush.

"Oh, ah...yes, I was," he said. He averted his eyes. "I did have to write it out again myself so it'd be in my handwriting, but...what you did was...helpful."

If by "helpful," he meant getting the highest marks he'd gotten in physics class so far.

Jacob gave something of a weak smile. "...Well, I'm sorry you had to write it again -- I'd finished it so you wouldn't have to..."

"Well, yeah, but it wasn't in my handwriting, so someone would've known it wasn't mine, if I'd turned it in that way," Duncan blustered. "Anyway, it...doesn't really matter, it did save me a lot of time, not having to do the math myself. Though I am still a little confused about how you knew how to do it, when you said you never even finished high school."

"I read books in the mathematics section of the library sometimes, during the slower hours," Jacob said with an offhand shrug.

Duncan blinked in surprise.

"You learned all that just from reading library books?" he asked. The courtier couldn't help but be impressed.

"Sure," said Jacob leisurely. "Once you get the theory down, all it really takes is putting it into practice. I just finished up the last of the books on number theory," he added almost as an afterthought. "About a third done with the history section too. Though the science section is actually my favorite to explore -- I recently checked out a book on the biochemistry of various viruses, and it's fascinating. It astounds me that the court of Spades hasn't pushed for using the principle of reverse genetics to develop new vaccines..."

Jacob finally finished screwing the door back into place and, with a bounce in his step, straightened up.

"Go ahead and give it a try now!" he told the trolley driver.

The driver did, and with a ding, the door closed and then opened again like a charm.

Everyone on the trolley burst into applause as Jacob and the other people waiting to board outside all climbed aboard. Several even gave Jacob hearty slaps to the back.

"Thank you so much," the driver said, his blanched face curled up in a weak, relieved smile. "I don't know how I'll ever thank you -- "

"Sounds to me like you just did," Jacob said with a rather handsome smile.

"I've got to at least pay you for your work -- how about -- ?"

"Don't worry about it," said Jacob flippantly.

Without even seeming to notice the driver's attempt to protest, he slid a few coins into the slot by the door to pay for his ride and strolled into the trolley. He sidled into the open seat next to Duncan, grinning broadly. Duncan cocked his eyebrows at the shorter man.

"You could've at the very least accepted a free ride," the well-dressed student pointed out dryly. "The driver was clearly trying to offer it to you."

Then maybe you could save up for some halfway decent clothes, he couldn't help but add to himself, eying Jacob's outfit. It was the exact same one he'd seen him in before, though with perhaps one or two more grease stains.

Jacob blinked. "Really? Huh..."

He shrugged this off very easily, though.

"Oh, well -- I can pay for it, so I may as well. Wasn't doing it for pay in the first place, after all."

Did this guy seriously just shrug off the fact that he could've saved some money when his boots looked like they were a few steps removed from second-hand? Duncan raised his eyebrows.

"Just because you benefited from the trolley being fixed doesn't mean you didn't earn some reward for what you did."

"Oh, I know, but..." Jacob shrugged. "I honestly wasn't even thinking of my own commute, right then. I just knew the driver was having trouble, and I was pretty sure I could help, so I wanted to try. I like solving people's problems," he added with another grin.

Duncan considered Jacob for a moment. It was so strange, how someone who could talk so much about absolutely nothing could come across as so...innocent, in a strange way. So sincere and generous, while also being so clueless about other people's feelings and social cues...

Jacob was a strange person. A strange person, but...interesting.

Little by little, Duncan actually found himself smiling too, though much more wryly.

"...Hm."

Jacob turned his focus to the window as the trolley began to move. Duncan and he fell into a contented silence, which was broken when Duncan initiated conversation again.

"...Which library do you work at?"

"The one uptown, near the museum!" Jacob said with a grin. "My mum recently became a curator there...we generally walk home together those days, so we can pick up Wyn from school on the way. Anyhow, Mum's the most smashing curator -- never been great around lots of people, but she's so smart...she outclasses everyone else there, easily. One day she told me about this new exhibit she's been helping with on the history and short-lived reign of the Knave of Hearts -- bloody as all get out, mind you, but brilliant..."

Before long, Jacob had gone on a long tangent about the history behind the Knave of Hearts's reign and the boom in technological advancements that cropped up in the rest of Cinderhaven in response to refugees fleeing the Kingdom of Hearts. Duncan was having trouble following all of it, but Jacob's passion was remarkable enough to sit through -- it was like sitting beside a raging fire just to enjoy its warmth. And in those times when Duncan found himself on the same wavelength as Jacob, he found a strange excitement pulsing through him as well.

"...And well, out of that, we got new tanks, models of mechanical horses, gas stoves -- even our modern streetcars," said Jacob. "All that, just from immigrants coming here, to explore greater opportunities."

Duncan nodded. "I've put in several proposals to the Jack of Spades, for just that reason."

Not that he's willing to do anything the least bit differently than how they've always been done, he thought dully.

"There's so much potential for growth, if we just invest in projects at home. And if Spades invested more in developing those technologies used for transportation, then it could even encourage other technologically sharp minds in other parts of Cinderhaven to settle here."

Jacob beamed. "Oh, for sure! But you know, I reckon that's only one component, the improving of our transportation methods. It's also about the fuel we use."

"Finding a way to increase coal production to meet demand, you mean?" asked Duncan.

"Yeah, sort of -- but to increase production, we'd also have to make improvements on how it's done," Jacob pointed out. "Coal is smashing and all, but it's still a toxic substance. Prolonged exposure runs the risk of kidney damage, lung damage, heart damage...even it just being too close to running water has proved dangerous. Not to mention coal mines are ridiculously unsafe."

Duncan nodded grimly. The Jack of Spades had received several reports about that, though he'd sort of treated it as "par the course," for such "unskilled" labor.

"So you think the first step would be improving conditions for those coal miners," Duncan surmised.

"Right!" said Jacob. "And well, it wouldn't be too hard! We already have windowed submarines that help us breathe and travel safely underwater...all we'd really need is a way to adapt that concept for use in mines! Some sort of a submarine suit, for use underground instead of underwater...oh!"

The curly-haired man abruptly shot to his feet and grabbed the string, tugging down on it sharply to tell the trolley to stop. Duncan looked up, startled, as the trolley came to a stop right outside the university.

"Didn't want you to miss your stop," said Jacob with a slightly cheeky smile.

"I suppose it is the least you can do," Duncan said coolly, "considering you almost made me miss my stop for a second time."

He got to his feet and headed for the trolley door. In the door frame, though, he paused, and he glanced back at Jacob.

"...You work at Pik's Tavern, right?" he asked.

Jacob blinked. "Yeah -- Tuesdays and Thursdays."

Duncan's lips curled up into a very small smirk. "I'll try to pop in sometime. I could use a place to eat with a good discount...that is, if knowing a guy there would put me in good standing?"

Jacob beamed so brightly that his blue eyes actually sparkled a bit.

"10% off your order, if you ask for me by name!" he said brightly.

Duncan's smirk broadened a bit. "10%? That's not bad. All right -- tomorrow morning, then, before I head into work."

"It's a date, then!" Jacob called back, as Duncan finally climbed off the trolley.

Once he'd stepped off, Duncan found his eyes darting up to the trolley as it closed its doors and drove off. He also found his heart beating just that little bit faster and his cheeks flushing as he brought a hand through his hair, looking away again quickly.

A date, then, he recurred Jacob's offhand remark in his own head. Duncan tried to push the memory down, even as it made his lips spread into an amused smile.

Obviously he'd never date an idiot like Jacob Cromwell...but talking with him some more would be fun. It'd be like spending time with Coby, back in grade school -- except with someone who couldn't read social cues and went on ridiculous, rambling tangents about absolutely nothing...

But it could be fun. Listening to Jacob get carried away by his own passions and getting a bit swept up in them himself for a while...that could be fun.

~*~

That day Duncan ended up bringing up the idea of applying reverse genetics to future vaccinations during a meeting with the Jack of Spades and his other courtiers. It was an idea that prompted an muted nod of approval from the Jack, as well as a few side-long glances from the other courtiers that made it clear they wished they'd proposed the idea.

Jacob would've probably been blissfully unaware of those envious looks, Duncan thought to himself in amusement. He probably would've also gone a whirlwind tangent about how to apply the same vaccination principles to the farming of produce or something.

~*~

When Duncan visited Pik's Tavern the following morning, he wasn't served by Jacob, as he'd expected -- instead, after eating one of the best breakfasts he'd had in his life, Duncan found a scrawled note on the receipt his female server had brought him.

10% off, as promised! Hope I cooked the eggs all right -- if you'd like them runnier next time, just let me know. Jacob C

The bloke could cook. The knowledge made Duncan stare at the little note on the receipt a bit longer than he should've.

After stewing in his thoughts for a moment, Duncan finally decided to bite the bullet and ask his server about when Jacob got off work. The server gave him a knowing smile.

"He's supposed to only work mornings," she explained, "but he always stays later. I reckon Jacob would stay and work for a full twelve hours, if we'd let him...but he always heads out, whenever his sister gets here."

Duncan blinked. "His sister?"

The memory of Jacob mentioning a "Wyn" rippled over his mind.

"Carewyn's her name," said the server fondly. "She's a sweet little thing -- smarter than her brother too, sometimes. She's still in grade school, but she always takes the trolley after school to 'pick Jacob up' when he's working here, so they can head home together." She gave a soft laugh behind her hand. "It's absolutely adorable."

The thought of Coby carrying his sister Veruca on his shoulders when she was little rippled over Duncan's mind, and it made something a little softer flit through his expression.

"...I see..."

Well, there went the idea of talking to Jacob some more after he got off work... Duncan considered his options for a moment before speaking again.

"...I'll be off then," he said at last, his voice incredibly business-like. "Tell Jacob I'll be back Thursday morning -- and if possible, I'd like to give him a review of his cooking in person."

~*~

From then on, Duncan would come into Pik's Tavern every Tuesday and Thursday morning on his way into the capitol, Jacob would cook him a scrumptious breakfast spread, and they would talk while Duncan ate. More than once Duncan would pay for Jacob's meal too so that he could eat with him -- if nothing else, he said gruffly, he should reimburse the Tavern for "stealing" one of their chefs for an hour or so twice a week.

As he and Jacob sat together, they would talk about various things -- economics, dirigibles, medicine, anthropology, music, renewable energy, joke shops, trains, mythology, biodegradable alternatives to household goods...anything and everything. They'd also talk about themselves, sometimes. Jacob would gush about his sister Carewyn, who was as sweet and small as a cherub, but brave and smart as a whip, and his mother Lane, who was soft-spoken and hated crowds, but was the gentlest and smartest person he knew. Duncan would talk about Coby -- about how laid-back and fun he was to be around, about all the trouble they got into at school together...about how much he loved his sister Veruca, and how much Jacob had reminded him of his best friend. Duncan would talk about his father and how they never spoke after the death of his mother -- how Duncan was working at the court of Spades and was determined to really be somebody, his own person, on his own and successful and free to do as he liked. Jacob would talk about how his father abandoned his family, leaving Jacob to drop out of school so as to help keep his family afloat financially through his multiple part-time jobs, and how he taught himself using books from the library, since he lacked the money or qualifications to attend university himself. Sometimes Jacob would even sing! Duncan caught the other man's tenor voice echoing several times out of the kitchen on his way out to greet him, and each time the soaring, carefree tone would make Duncan's heart skip a beat.

The two young men would talk and talk until finally both Jacob and Duncan had cleared their plates and had to get back to their respective jobs. And at Duncan's job in particular, he found the subjects of his meetings with Jacob returning to his mind more and more, whenever he'd meet with the rest of court.

"If we're looking for funds for these projects," Duncan proposed one day, "then perhaps technology could provide some solutions. Sure, we don't have enough money to pay for a new school right now...but investing in energy that's renewable, rather than single-use, could make it cheaper to refuel the machines needed to build these new structures. Water, for instance -- it's still only been used on the large scale right now with dams, but hydroelectric power could be a great alternative, if it could be duplicated on a smaller scale."

Afterward the Jack of Spades actually pulled Duncan aside to speak to him privately.

Ulrich Scheller was a very austere, by-the-book sort of man. Duncan had never once see him smile, and he and Coby both reckoned no one had ever heard him crack a joke in his life. Ulrich was very tall and stiff-shouldered, dressed in a high-necked black and white tweed coat that made him look like a vicar. He was losing some of his blond hair, so he'd combed his gelled hair down a bit to obscure it, but it didn't appear comical: if anything, it only made his forehead appear taller and his face appear longer and pointier, by extension.

"Your idea is really quite inventive," said the older man, his eyes boring into Duncan very carefully. "I hope you don't mind if I discuss it with the King, when next I speak with him?"

Duncan was startled. The Jack actually wanted to tell the King about something he'd suggested?

"Of course not," he said very quickly, once he'd recovered.

"Good," said Ulrich.

He crossed his arms behind him, strolling over to the window and looking out.

"...The King was very positive, when someone passed along your idea about vaccines. He came to me specifically requesting that I invest more in our local laboratories for the coming year. ...I don't think I've ever heard the King speak so passionately about infrastructure before."

The Jack's eyes watched Duncan's reflection in the window carefully. Duncan felt like an invisible hand was squeezing his stomach in a vice grip.

"...Thank you," Duncan said after a moment.

"Your hard work and resourcefulness have garnered quite a lot of attention," the Jack pressed on. "Investing in biodegradable tools, applying submarine technology to mining equipment...even the Ace of Spades has noticed. I think I even caught her expressing some interest in some of your ideas -- or at least, adapting them for her particular department..."

Ulrich gave Duncan an almost curious look.

"I must admit, Mr. Ashe...you are an impressive young man."

Duncan felt ill.

The praise should've been so validating -- after all, Duncan had worked incredibly hard, and he did want to be seen as valuable to the Court of Spades...but he'd only brought up Jacob's ideas because they were objectively good ideas -- they had to be, if the King reacted so well to them! Duncan hadn't really planned to take sole credit for those ideas...and now that he was set to, he found himself feeling trapped. On the one hand, he didn't want to take credit for ideas that Jacob had come up with all by himself, without even a formal education...but on the other hand, he didn't know how the Jack of Spades would respond to the knowledge that Duncan had earned all of this respect through promoting ideas developed by someone else...

"Mr. Ashe?" said Ulrich. "Is something the matter?"

Duncan shot out of his reverie. "No, sir."

He paused. Jacob's grinning face swam over his mind.

"Guess I just like applying my brain to more useful activities."

"Wasn't doing it for pay in the first place, after all."

"I honestly wasn't even thinking of my own commute, right then. I just knew the driver was having trouble, and I was pretty sure I could help, so I wanted to try. I like solving people's problems."

Jacob never looked for any kind of reward, for the work he put in. He didn't ever seem to want anything selfishly for himself. All he ever seemed to care about was solving problems -- knowing that what he'd done had been helpful to others...

Even so...

Duncan swallowed.

"...I can't take credit for those ideas, sir," he admitted lowly at last. "All I did was share them -- "

"Shared them at very critical moments," Ulrich cut him off smoothly. "They were timely and educated suggestions. You clearly put a lot of thought into them..."

"No, I didn't," Duncan said, a bit more loudly than he meant.

He very quickly reigned his emotions back in as best he could.

"...I mean, yes, they were applicable to the task at hand -- and yes, I have worked hard, and I appreciate you noticing..."

The young man swallowed again, trying to steady his courage.

"...But those ideas...I didn't come up with them on my own. They weren't even my ideas in the first place -- they're someone else's."

Duncan averted his eyes, unable to look at his superior.

"...He's the inventive one. I just...recalled his ideas, during those conferences."

The Jack of Spades considered Duncan for a long moment. Then, to Duncan's shock, he actually smirked slightly.

"Mr. Ashe," Ulrich said coolly, "you misunderstood my compliment completely. I never expected all of those ideas to be solely your own invention -- for however smart you fancy yourself to be, you are still only a student," he added rather dryly. "You have so much still to learn -- about politics, about the world. About mankind overall. That's why it's a remarkable talent, to discern which voices to listen to...to pinpoint good ideas when you hear them and promote them to others who might be too afraid to pursue them, despite their novelty. ...It's a talent I've lacked for a very long time..."

The Jack turned around to face Duncan properly, his arms still folded stiffly behind him.

"Yes, perhaps others presumed these ideas were fully germinated from your brain, but I was never so foolish to. Speaking from experience, however -- there's nothing inherently wrong with being influenced by the people around you, especially if they are both valuable and trustworthy. And from the sound of things...the people who've inspired you have been fortunate enough to earn your trust."

Duncan felt that hand squeezing his stomach loosen its grip. He relaxed slightly, relieved that his position hadn't been compromised -- but there was still something restless, in his feet.

"...Thank you, sir," he said.

Duncan paused. Then, after a moment, he spoke with a big more strength in his voice.

"Sir?"

"Yes?"

"There's this man I know. He's my age, but his mind...it's inventive, truly inventive, in a way mine isn't. ...I think he'd be invaluable, in developing new interior projects for the Country of Spades."

Ulrich cocked his eyebrows, interested.

"If you think so, perhaps you should invite him to court."

Duncan's heart gave a leap of surprise as Ulrich strolled over to the door of his office.

"...You give your approval, sir?" Duncan asked, delighted.

"After tonight, Mr. Ashe," the Jack said cryptically, "I don't think you'll need it."

He didn't explain himself at all before he strode away.

It was only when Duncan returned home that he found the official Spades-sealed letter that had been delivered to his door.

Dear Mr. Ashe, We are pleased to inform you that you have been nominated -- with nearly universal approval from the Court of Spades -- to take on Master Ulrich Scheller's position as the Jack of Spades.

~*~

Within a few weeks, Duncan had taken on the mantle of the new Jack of Spades. The same day Duncan was inaugurated, Jacob Cromwell put in his letter of resignation at the mechanic shop, Pik's Tavern, and the uptown library near his home and took a full-time job as an advisor and technology expert at the court of Spades under Duncan.

The rest of the courtiers honestly didn't know what to make of Jacob at first, but fortunately even those who'd looked upon him with the most scorn eventually came to see how truly brilliant the young man was. More than a few times, Patricia Rakepick tried to coax Jacob to make some more militaristic modifications to his blueprints -- but to Duncan's satisfaction, Jacob always ended up finding a way to blow the Ace of Spades off.

"Why would you use mining suits on a battlefield anyway?" Jacob asked with a deep frown. "They'd get trashed up so fast you'd have to fix them over and over...so pointless..."

Duncan smiled wryly. "Guess I shouldn't be surprised you have more interest in building mechanical bees than bombs and tanks."

"Well, of course!" said Jacob as if it were obvious. "Mechanical bees can help with the shrinking bee population. With artificial pollinators in the mix, we can both help the environment and improve food and medicine production! Not to mention the technology could be applied to larger models, once it's perfected -- imagine! Mechanical winged horses that can pull our own modified flying carriages! Mechanical carrier pigeons to deliver messages! Maybe even mechanical dragons! Imagine the uses that could give to a welder, or a baker...anyone in the culinary industry, really..."

Duncan found himself smiling absently as he let Jacob go off on another one of his dreamy tangents. His subordinate's blue eyes had drifted skyward ages ago, as it often did whenever he was thinking hard, but they sparkled like happy aquamarine gems.

Jacob hadn't had a lot of opportunities in his life, prior to meeting Duncan. After meeting him, though, Duncan hoped he'd have more, much more.

Because someone this resilient...this brilliant, this passionate, this idealistic and good...even with all the disadvantages he'd had and all the struggles he'd had to overcome and all the reasons he had to resent the world and his place in it...

He deserved to be celebrated. He deserved to be great, and appreciated, and successful -- to be able to do what he wanted to do and chase all of his sky-high dreams as far as they'd take him...

Jacob deserved to feel important. Because...he was. To Duncan, at the very least...he was important.

#cardverse au #hphm cardverse #duncan ashe #jacob cromwell #my writing #coby mcquaid #veruca mcquaid #carewyn cromwell #graaaaah I love these two so much #doesn't matter what universe #LMAO though duncan I see you eying my boy #1) bad fashion but cute 2) smart AF 3) muscles 👀👀👀 4) CAN COOK OMG 5) wubs his sis like my BFF awwww #you are so whipped boy hahahaha

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bunnyanqel · 9 months ago

Text

A Pleasure Doing You—I Mean Business (1)

[1] [2] [3]

Summary: Maria's never met anyone who's snagged her attention—and made her libido rage—quite like Eddie Munson. When she meets him after class for a weed deal, she gives him an offer that she hopes he can't refuse: herself.

Warnings: NSFW, smut, dirty talk, 18+, MDNI, clothed sex, outdoor sex, mentions of cancer (brief), mentions of chemo (brief), come as lube, inexperienced but not virgin eddie munson, creampie, discussions of condoms, unsafe sex, frottage, coming in pants, enthusiastic consent, bisexual eddie munson

｡ﾟﾟ･｡･ﾟﾟ｡ﾟ。 also on AO3 ! 　ﾟ･｡･ﾟ

Eddie had come to one conclusion: cheerleaders were bratty, stuck-up, prissy girls that only wanted one thing from him. He’d grown used to the way they used him for sex and for drugs until something better—someone they could show off to Mommy and Daddy—came along.

So when Maria, one of the Black cheerleaders, approached him during lunch, he’d already steeled himself. His cock did too, filling the fly of his jeans even though he tried to tell it she was the root of all evil. But, as per usual, his cock didn’t agree and, with the way it throbbed behind his fly, thought she was a sex goddess.

Against her silken brown skin and halo of perfectly coifed curly black hair, the almost gold shade of her eyes was unsettling. Like a jungle cat’s. Even without the eyes, the way she moved—with grace, with feline fluidity—reminded him of a puma, except the microscopic cheer skirt ruined it. One wrong move, or a particularly sharp wind, would reveal whatever she was wearing underneath, which of course made him think about her panties. That did fuck all for subduing his errant dick.

“Eddie Munson, right?” She had a soft voice that was hard to hear over the din of cafeteria mayhem, but he heard her loud and clear. When Maria spoke, you listened; that was just one of the Ten Commandments. Thou shalt not kill, thou shalt not commit adultery, and thou shall listen to Maria.

“Yup, sweet cheeks. What can I do for you?” He looked her up and down, taking in that tiny scrap of a skirt that bore so much well-defined thigh and leg and the sleeveless vest that left her equally defined biceps on display.

“Don’t call me sweet cheeks or I’ll be forced to cause bodily harm,” she said dryly as she leaned a hip against the table. The boys at the table watched her with a mix of wariness and awe. Gareth was staring at her breasts because he, like Eddie, knew a fine woman when he saw one. Still Eddie was tempted to smack him. “And I need a favor.”

Eddie dragged his gaze away from her chest and looked up into her golden eyes. Christ, they were so pretty…and his mind was in the gutter, imagining them gleaming up at him as she sucked his cock. Of how she’d looked rubbing her undoubtedly pretty, puffy cunt all over his thigh.

He cleared his throat. “What type of favor, sweet” —he caught sight of her murderous expression— “…ness?” It came out stilted like he’d choked mid-sentence.

Her impassive expression flickered for a second before it was replaced by a deep, twisted scowl. “No nicknames.” She examined him in a quick, intense once-over that he felt in his balls. Fuck. “You sell weed and shit, right?”

Like a bucket of ice water being overturned, he was shocked back into reality, his mind firmly booted out of the gutter. He drummed his fingers on the table top and warily eyed her. Tried hard not think about flipping her skirt up like some pervert. “What’re you looking for hypothetically?”

“Weed,” she replied calmly, like it was a normal conversation to be had in a crowded cafeteria.

Like it wasn’t completely out of the ordinary for a girl, let alone a cheerleader, to approach him and be seen talking to him. In broad daylight. Where anyone could see them. But he had the feeling she didn’t really care about rumors and high school hierarchy, and he found her that much hotter for her devil may care attitude.

“Not for me,” she clarified. “My cousin.”

Curiosity piqued. “What’s stopping your cousin from asking me herself?”

“Chemotherapy.”

She said it so casually, so blasé, that it took a second to register, and when it did, his gaze flicked up to her cold face. There wasn’t an ounce of humor in those eyes. She wasn’t joking.

“So I’ll meet you,” she went on before he could apologize for sounding like a complete tool, “after school at four P.M. at your spot. Goodbye.” She turned on her heel, her skirt flaring, and he saw the glorious curve of her ass cheek. Booty shorts—she was wearing booty shorts. And there wasn’t a panty line.

He watched her march away, that gorgeous ass twitching with the swish of her hips, and wiggled his eyebrows at the stunned boys at the Hellfire table when he turned back to them.

“And that’s just business,” he said roughly even though his mind was elsewhere. Like how her tits would feel in his palms or the smell of her went cunt.

The rest of the day passed like molasses or quicksand, slow and mind-melting, and he kept replaying the interaction in his head. The shape of her thick lips, the timbre of her voice, that icy attitude that made him all the hornier. The urge to see her lose her cool, to see her unravel, had wormed into his stupid horny brain and made a home there.

Which made him wonder very, very naughty things.

Sexual things.

What was she like outside of these corridors? What did she sound like when she came on a dick if she was into men? Would she be as demanding and brusque as she’d been in the cafeteria, all no-nonsense? Or would she melt, turning pliant and creamy?

His cock refused to soften the entire time so every time he was able, he would adjust himself. Fuck, if this kept up, he’d be raw by three o’clock. Raw like he hadn’t been since he first discovered jerking off and rubbed himself raw.

By the time classes officially ended, he’d ripped off the belt to ease the pressure on the head of his erection. It wasn’t the same relief as wearing lose pajama bottoms but it was a million times better.

Show time, Munson. He grabbed his lunch pail, locked his van, and headed into the woods.

#eddie munson smut #my writing #bunny's writing #bunny writes

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plaindangan · 1 year ago

Note

Natsumi, Mahiru and Chiaki had their differences, but one thing they all agreed upon was getting under Hajime's pants.

And after hearing about a bet he made with some friends, they wasted no time to put their plan into action.

Hajime lost the bet, so now he must walk through HPA wearing... A Cow outfit that barely covered a thing and exposed his 'Lower Ahoge' to the World? Well, a bet's a bet.

But then, Hajime got dragged into a locker by you-know-who and was greeted with his crushes all wearing Cow-printed Bikinis. The three Girls VERY eager to start 'milking' the Bull in front of them~

So Hinata had to be a good 'farmer' and mate with the Girls by also 'milking' their Breasts!!!

Disclaimer: Below is content that's more on the racy side! If not for you, you probably shouldn't read!

He was gonna kill Kazuichi for this stipulation. When they made that 'winner chooses punishment' bet, Hajime expected he was just going to have to pay for the guy's meals for a bit.

Dressing up in a cowprint speedo, boots and horns, was not anywhere close to what he expected!! And he had to walk around Hope's Peak in this!? It could barely even cover his-!! He blushed as, once again, his long junk poked out one of the sides of his speedo. Damn it, why did Kazuichi have to buy this so small!?

Well, on the flip side, he was at school early so no one would really see him so far...right? He was proven wrong as, when he was turning a corner to his locker and found several pairs of hands suddenly yank him in. He so caught off guard, that he wasn't able to resist and began to panic...up until heard a voice.

"Well, well, would you look at what we have here, ladies?~ A hot 'bull' to milk~" said...Natsumi?! As Hajime got a good look, he could also see that she wasn't alone with Mahiru and Chiaki being with her. But that wasn't all. After all, when you were pressed up against the walls of a small locker, you were pretty much unable not to look at what three beautiful women were wearing while pressed up against you.

All three women were wearing cow print bikini's that barely seemed to fit, especially in regards to Chiaki (which looked as if it was about to burst any second now). Their breasts were pressed against his body and all three stared at him lustfully.

"I-It seems that way, Natsumi..." Mahiru stammered out. Out of the three, she clearly looked the most flustered, but her eyes were completely enamored with Hajime's cock, especially with how it was growing erect the more things continued. Chiaki also, noticed smiling slyly as her fingers traced over his tip.

"Then let's do our best to get every last drop from him out! Hajime?" He looked at attentions to the gamer, while trying not to moan out loudly from the affair.

"While we're milking you, won't you help milk us too?"

"Y-yeah!! I-It's only fair, right?"

"You ain't selfish enough to leave us three hangin', riiight?~"

With expectations from this trio and his own lust for them spiking, Hajime found himself eager to meet this 'challenge' as well. As they worked his dick, her constantly found himself groping and squeezing their breasts to a symphony of moans from the girls.

All doing their best until every party in that locker had been fully drained of their milk!

#DRhinata-R18 #DRnanami-R18 #DRkoizumi-R18 #DRnkurzuryu-R18 #twistedhyness asks

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thecheesiestswiss · 2 years ago

Text

Snow Queen Au: Meeting A Stranger in the Cold

Here is an excerpt that I wrote for the Snow Queen Au. You can also check it out on ao3. Let me know what you think!

Technoblade opened his eyes and was greeted with the sight of his rickety wooden ceiling. It's been 4 hours, and he still couldn't get to sleep. He spent the entire time tossing and turning in his bed, trying to get comfortable to no avail.

It was just too cold.

He never had a great tolerance for the cold, but it was never this bad. Techno chalked up this newfound sensitivity to the illness he caught about a week ago when he was playing in the snow with Ranboo. He never saw that tiny shard of glass coming.

Luckily, besides the overwhelming pain and slight bleeding it caused, it didn't severely damage his eyeball. Maybe it just grazed it, seeing as Ranboo couldn't find any remnants in his eye.

Yet, despite surviving such an obvious attempt on his life, the universe couldn't let him off too easily.

He had a pretty nasty cold, and he wasn't getting any better.

Techno gently shook his head to clear his depressing thoughts and sat up in his rock-hard bed.

A few feet away lay Ranboo, sleeping carelessly away in his own bed, letting out soft snores. At the very least, it didn't seem like he caught whatever Techno had. Ranboo was already in enough danger by living in a tundra that was constantly snowing. Techno didn't want to add to that.

Techno felt a small smile creep onto his face before he flinched in pain. He quickly pressed a hooved hand against his chest and pushed, making sure to breathe deeply to lessen the ache.

After a few seconds, it disappeared leaving only echoes of pain behind.

Sighing, Techno begrudgingly peeled his blanket off and got up from the bed. Immediately, he started to violently shiver from the cold but was determined to complete his goal.

The reason why he couldn't sleep was that the roaring fire that was lit a few hours prior had been sadly snuffed out. Techno knew that he should have gotten more firewood before nightfall, but at the time he was lazy and didn't consider the repercussions of his actions.

He was certainly feeling it now.

Well, no time like the present. If he didn't get any firewood, he won't be the only person to suffer.

Quickly, Technoblade began to pull on 3 of his warmest sweaters and double-layered his pants and socks. He was still cold, but at least he wasn't shivering.

Slipping on his ice-resistant boots and heavy red cloak, Techno grabbed his axe and opened the outside door. He made sure to close it firmly on his way out.

There were many things that sucked about living in a snow-covered remote village where everyone feared you and your ward. However, the sights were definitely one of a kind.

Blizzard season hasn't started yet, so the sky was clear of any clouds. Maybe it was Techno's imagination, but the stars seemed to twinkle more during nights like these. Instead of the freezing, hardened snow that came from the harsh conditions, Techno was treated to the carefree, powdered sugar consistency that kids loved to roll around in.

Techno let out a small breath, seeing it appear directly in front of his face. He did it a few times, trying to see if he could change its shape as if he was smoking a pipe, but quickly realized that he was getting off track.

With a crack of his neck to dispel the tension that was growing due to the chill, Techno made his way to the forest that was a few hundred feet away from his and Ranboo's cabin. Once he arrived, he found a few scraggly-looking trees and began chopping them down. Raising his axe, he heaved it to its side and it collided with the trunk with a dull thud. This continued until the tree fell to the ground.

" There we go. Take that tree. No one is a match for Technoblade," Technoblade said to himself.

He made quick work of cutting the tree into smaller logs that he can fit in his house. Using a net, he placed the freshly chopped logs inside and heaved them over his shoulder. Dragging them through the snow will make them wetter, which is not what he wanted if he needed a fire.

Techno decided that the tree provided just enough wood for him to last the night. It would be best to get more tomorrow with Ranboo.

Just as Techno finished wrapping the net securely around the logs, he noticed that it had started to snow. In fact, it started to snow incredibly hard.

" Oh no," Techno groaned, realizing his mistake.

Just because blizzard season wasn't here, doesn't mean that there couldn't be any blizzards. And it seems like one was developing right now. Blizzards were dangerous. They were cold, brutal, and blinding. You could be 5 feet away from your house and wouldn't even know it.

Technoblade was more than 5 feet away from his cabin.

Techno rushed out of the forest as fast as he could, but he was weighed down by both his axe and the logs. Just as he exited, the blizzard picked up speed and intensity, leaving Techno basically blind.

Techno rapidly took a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself down.

" Okay, it's okay. I'm definitely not going to die here, nope. The forest is right in front of the cabin. All I need to do is keep going forward and I will eventually reach it," Techno thought. He slowly began to move his way forward.

Each step felt like he was moving through tar. His bones were freezing and besides the howling wind, all that Techno could hear was his teeth chattering.

5 minutes turned into 10 minutes. 10 minutes turned to 15 minutes.

Needless to say, Techno felt that his situation was starting to get dire. Thank God he wasn't having a coughing or sneezing fit right now, but who knows how long that streak of luck will last?

The cold was starting to affect his head. It felt as if someone in his skull was violently beating against it with a hammer.

Suddenly, as if the Gods felt pity for poor Technoblade, he saw a yellow light appear a few feet in front of him.

Ranboo must have noticed that he was gone and turned on the lights in their cabin.

With a near-manic grin on his face, Techno felt a burst of energy enter his body and he started to jog toward the light. As he got closer to it, he noticed a shadowed figure start to materialize in front of him.

This made Techno frown in concern.

" Ranboo! What are you doing outside? Get back in! You're going to get hurt-"

" What's a Ranboo?" the shadowed figure asked.

Techno stopped running when he heard the voice. Squinting, Techno realized that there was no way that shadow was tall enough to be Ranboo.

Ranboo also didn't have a Northern accent.

The light started to get closer to him. In his confusion, Techno didn't move as he watched the figure approach him, holding an ornate silver lantern.

It didn't take long for them to be standing face to face.

It was a man. A blond man with shoulder-length hair, striking ice-blue eyes, and a scruffy beard on his chin. Seeing that he had wings, Techno could tell he wasn't human. However, besides the wings, the man didn't have any out-of-the-ordinary features.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. His clothing sure was strange.

He was wearing a white button-up shirt, black slacks, and long-laced leather boots. On his hands, he wore black silk gloves with an assortment of rings on his fingers. The only warm thing on the man would be his very fluffy white coat that was so long it dragged across the snowy floor. The green and white striped bucket hat clashed with all of his outfit, but it suited him in a weird way.

How this guy wasn't a popsicle astounded Techno. Maybe he had a high tolerance for the cold.

A very high tolerance.

They both stared at each other for a few seconds, Techno in awkward awe, and the man... Techno wasn't quite sure. Maybe he was also confused at seeing a pigman with an axe at 3 in the morning. Then again, he didn't look confused. He seemed... happy? He was smiling, but Techno wasn't sure if the smile was genuine or if that was the man's default.

He was thinking about this too hard.

Seeing as how the man wasn't planning on doing anything, Techno cleared his throat and said, " Er, Ranboo is my... roommate. I thought you were him, but... you aren't."

The man tilted his head to the side like a cat. His hair moved, allowing Techno to see that one of his ears was pierced with a sapphire earring.

" No, I am not a Ranboo. My name is Philza. What is your name?"

Techno didn't see the harm of giving this man his name, since maybe this would be a good segway for him to leave. The man might have been fine in the cold, but Techno wasn't.

Already, he could feel his chest start to tighten.

" My name is Technoblade. Listen, I'm in a bit of a hurry. If you saw my cabin, can you point me in the direction of it?"

" Why?" the man, Philza, asked innocently.

Techno felt his confusion grow.

"... Because it's cold and I want to take shelter. Also, Ranboo is waiting for me and I have firewood. I rather not have him freeze to death. He owes me 6 years of rent money."

Now it was Philza's turn to look confused.

" You don't want to stay in the cold? You rather return to your crumbling dwellings with a person that depends on you completely without giving you any form of compensation?"

" I mean, that's kind of a rude thing to say."

At first, Techno felt a bit annoyed at what Philza said. Then, he realized that they were getting nowhere in this conversation and that Philza might have been a bit out of it from being out in the snow without any proper protection.

" Hey man, my cabin isn't too far from here. You can stay with Ranboo and me until the snow clears up. You're probably freezing to death right now. We can talk more when we reach the cabin," Techno said, feeling a bit awkward about inviting a complete stranger into his home. But it didn't feel right to just leave this guy here. He didn't look anywhere near prepared to survive in such a harsh environment.

Philza stared blankly at Techno. Suddenly, both his hands shot out and grabbed Techno's face.

Techno shouted in surprise and found himself being physically dragged down to meet Philza's eyes.

Before he could ask what the hell the man was doing, his breath caught in his throat.

Philza's eyes bore into his soul. The cold around Techno disappeared completely. All that he could focus on was those ice-blue eyes. The longer he stared at them, the more his chest felt frozen. The world around him didn't matter. Ranboo didn't matter. He didn't matter. All that mattered was looking into those eyes-

Techno was forced to close his eyes when a series of coughs wracked his frame. In his moment of lucidity, he blindly pushed against Philza, causing him to stumble back. He let go of Techno's face.

Techno fell to his knees as he continued to cough, saliva pooled rapidly into his mouth and dripped grossly onto the snow. His head felt hot, but the rest of him felt cold.

What was happening to him?

" You were telling the truth."

Techno quickly looked up to see Philza kneeling above him, blue eyes wide with amazement and excitement. He had a wide grin on his face.

It made Techno feel scared.

" You want to go back home. I see it in your heart. Despite how miserable that cabin is, how terrible this village treats you, you love that house and you love that child, Ranboo, was it? More than that, there's something quite special about you. My snowflake isn't affecting you the way I thought it would, despite it still being in your eye."

" Snowflake?" Techno croaked out before he was wracked with more coughs and shivers.

" Yes," Philza rested his cheek against his hand as he continued to watch Techno struggle below him, " You were supposed to embrace the cold and crave it. The cold in your heart would cause you to lose your emotions, and then it would freeze your body. It seems, in fact, you're doing the exact opposite."

It took a few seconds for Techno to realize just what Philza was talking about.

The glass shard to his eye when he was playing with Ranboo.

Techno's eyes shot open as horror smashed into him like a freight train.

There was a legend that the villagers whisper around this time of year. A legend about a man who, every few decades, chooses his victims by blowing a snowflake into their eyes, blinding them from feeling the warmth of their loved ones and blocking them from feeling warmth for others. It would cause their hearts to grow cold until eventually, they turn into ice statues, serving the man for all eternity after he takes them away to his kingdom made of ice and snow.

The legend of the Snow King.

Techno didn't pay too much mind to the legend. While they fascinated him, he didn't believe in fairytales and when Techno and Ranboo first arrived here all those years ago there was nothing about this village that screamed 'haunted by a mad immortal supernatural being of unknown power'.

Seeing is believing, and Techno would be a fool if he ignored all the facts pointing to a very obvious answer.

This stranger was the Snow King, and he was incredibly screwed.

Techno struggled to get up, but his limbs were too weak, not that it will stop him.

He wasn't going to die like this.

He slowly started to crawl forward, away from the king and away from this situation.

" Where are you going?" the king asked.

" Home," Techno grunted out, "your invitation has been revoked just so you know."

Before he could even crawl an inch away, Techno felt a hand wrap around the collar of his coat and yank him up. Right away, he began to wiggle around to dislodge the grip, but the king didn't budge. He began to half carry half drag Techno with one hand towards a certain direction. The lantern that he carried with him swung back and forward with each step.

" Let me go! I'm not going to become one of your creepy statues for all eternity! That would put a major wrench in my plans to become a billionaire."

Techno continued to struggle until his eyes caught a glimpse of his cabin. A scant few feet away from it was a massive, silver sleigh. In front of it attached by leather reigns stood 8 huge, majestic-looking caribou.

Techno was shocked silent until the king all but tossed him into the back of the sleigh. He landed on the leather seats with a grunt.

He tried to get up, but the king simply pushed him back down with one hand.

" Don't worry, mate. It would be a crime to transform you into another ornament for my collection."

Just as hope began to rise in Techno's chest, it was immediately squashed when Philza flashed him a mischievous grin.

" Just as much of a crime as letting you go, that is."

" You're such a jerk," Techno wheezed. He tried to push his way up, but the king was too strong and he was too weak.

Philza chuckled in amusement as he watched Techno try to get up only for him to cruelly push him down again.

" Now, now. While I admire your determination, there's no use in struggling now. We'll be in the sky soon, and I'd rather you not tumble out of the sleigh and fall to your death."

" Make me, you discount Santa Clause," Techno said as he glared at this massive annoyance in front of him.

The king lifted a brow before placing his palm over Techno's head, covering both of his eyes.

" Good idea."

That was the last thing that Techno heard before pain quickly gathered in his right eye socket.

He was gone before he could even scream

.~:':~.

Philza let out a sigh of relief when the boy finally stopped struggling. Cautiously, he lifted up his hand. Techno was out cold. It was still his snowflake after all. While there were some things that were out of his control, he was able to accomplish that much.

Philza was about to make his way toward the front of his sleigh before he noticed something. Even in sleep, Techno continued to shiver.

He felt a tugging sensation in his chest. It was a feeling that he thought he lost forever.

After a few seconds of deliberation, Philza slowly slipped off his fur coat and draped it around Techno, arranging him so that he was laying evenly on his back in the comforter of the sleigh.

Out of habit, Philza gently brushed his hand across Techno's fluffy hair, moving it away from his closed eyes.

Philza stayed like this for a while, staring at Techno as he stewed in the emotions that he was feeling. Eventually, however, he sighed and got up.

It was time for him to return home. While it wasn't exactly what he was expecting, he got what he came for.

Philza slid up to the front and took his seat. He gripped the reigns and, with one snap of them, caused the caribou to settle.

He closed his eyes and imagined.

He imagined the wind in his hair and snowflakes whipping across his face.

He imagined the smell of ozone and the sight of his breath forming wispy clouds in front of him.

He imagined happy giggles and cool hands cupping his face. Warm brown eyes crinkled happily as they stared deeply into his own.

His eyes snapped open and, suddenly, they were flying.

Careful to keep control over the sleigh so it wasn't shaking too much in the air, Philza took the time to take in his surroundings.

The sky itself was a beautiful place, but the winter skies were breathtaking.

The stars sparkled the prettiest during winter, and the heavens only blessed his domain with the magical light which spanned from mountains to oceans.

His wings ached to touch the sky once more.

He ignored this by turning his attention to his newly required package.

Safe and secure. He could see Techno snuggle deeper into his coat before stilling once again.

With a grin, the Snow King, commander of the Aurora Borealis, ruler of the Winter realm, and Champion of the Stars snapped his reigns once more, causing the sleigh to fly faster.

He was eager to arrive at his kingdom, unaware that he might have picked up more than one passenger that night.

#dream smp #fanfic #technoblade #philza #technoblade centric #fun little holiday story for the whole family #ranboo #swisscheesits #fanfic prompt

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