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kirstoons · 1 month ago

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SDV Sebastian x Female Farmer (Yandere)

Author: Me (kirstoons or Pink_Femonade)

Editor and Queef: @gayrahim

TRIGGER WARNING: NSFW, 18+ content, MDNI, mature and sexual themes

Author’s note: I’ve begun posting this fanfic on my newly created AO3 account (Pink_Femonade). I’m updating my AO3 before I post here so feel free to check it out if you want the latest content. Also, thank you everyone who’s been supporting my writing and also my fan art 💕

Chapter 3:

Summary: It seems like the universe is out to get you as your plans fall apart rapidly.

It’s 6:00 AM Tuesday, Fall 9 and instead of being woken up by your usual rooster call, you’re roused by the loud buzz of power tools. Clearly Robin has already begun her work, so you might as well get up so you can complete yours as well.

You peek out the window before you get ready, just to make sure she’s alone out there with no other members of her family, specifically Sebastian. Seeing that the coast is clear, you begin your morning routine. As you hastily shovel down your slightly-under fried eggs, you begin making plans as to how to handle your night away from the farm and any possible contingency plans should they fall through.

After finishing all your chores on the farm and giving a friendly wave to Robin, you head over to Leah’s house with one of your best aged bottles of cherry wine to help sweeten the deal. Not that it’s necessary since Leah is your closest friend here in the Valley, but it’s more of a “thank you” gift for when she happily agrees to let you spend the night this coming Thursday. Plus, it’ll give you a chance to tell her all the crazy shit that’s been happening with Sebastian (omitting certain details obviously).

As you approach Leah’s little cabin, you see her round the corner of her home with a concerned look on her face and phone to her ear. You only catch a few words at the end of her conversation before she spots you and proceeds to end the conversation. She waves and embraces you with a quick hug, still maintaining a worried look on her face.

“Hey, everything okay?”, you ask with genuine concern. It’s not often you see Leah this stressed out.

“Not really,” she half-heartedly chuckles with a defeated look in her eyes. “I have a wicked bad termite infestation so I’ve been on the phone with exterminators all morning. The fastest appointment any of them have is for tomorrow but because of how bad the infestation is, they’re gonna have to fumigate my house, which means I have to stay somewhere else for the next three days.” She gives an exasperated huff before she continues. “So… I’m looking for a temporary place to stay and also trying to move all my wood sculptures out of the termites path of destruction. Thankfully, the one thing they haven’t gotten to is those so I’m trying to keep it that way. Mayor Lewis said I can store my sculptures and supplies in the community center for the time being so… it’s something.” She looks down at the ground, collecting herself before and looks back up to you. “So what’s up with you?” she asks in a joking tone trying to maintain some optimism in the situation.

“Oh, I…” You debate whether or not to tell her you also needed a place to stay since your problem seems far less dire than hers. “I just wanted to stop by and give you this.” You hand her the hand-packaged bottle of wine with a sympathetic smile.

“Fuck, this is exactly what I need.” She pulls the cork out with her teeth and takes a very VERY long swig. With wine dribbling down her chin, she asks, “think you have room in that big ole farmhouse for one more?”

It’s hard to hide the true disappointment in your voice as you remind her that you’re having work done on the house and that you were also looking for a place to stay. You also apologize for being unable to help your good friend when she really needs you.

“Oh yeah, I totally forgot you were getting some work done. That’s exciting, though. And you don’t need to apologize. I’m sure Elliot will let me crash, especially if I bring this wine with me.” She glances down at the half drunk bottle of wine. “Or maybe I’ll get him some of Gus’s crab cakes.”

You both let out a light laugh which helps ease your minds and you part ways to focus on your next steps. Plan A was a bust and it was your most solid plan, making you a bit nervous. You remind yourself that you have contingency plans for this very reason. You take a deep breath to rally yourself as you begin walking to Sam’s house.

*****

“Oh shit, that sucks,” Sam says after you explain your situation to him. You even add Leah’s predicament to your story to show how your options are running out. He listens intently but sometimes you swear it’s going in one ear and out the other.

“So anyway, that’s why I was hoping I could crash with you? I know you’d need to ask your mom and I’m totally fine sleeping on the couch.” You try to plead your case as convincingly as possible.

“I’m really sorry, Y/n, but I can’t. My little brother got some virus or something and now it’s spread to my mom, so the whole house is in quarantine.”

Fuck. Fuck. FUCK!!!

“I bet Abby or Seb could help you out though,” he suggests with that sweet grin of his. He’s always so sweet and willing to help but hearing Sebastian’s name sends a cool chill down your spine. Damn, it’s impossible to be mad at Sam with his puppy dog expression and sweet sincerity. He’s always been so warm and kind to you, even when you were the new girl in town.

“Yeah, I’ll probably ask Abby next. Thanks, Sam.”

As you turn to leave, Sam calls out to you, “I bet Seb would prefer you ask him!” It’s an innocent tease, but you feel your cheeks burn bright red as you try to laugh along with him at his little “joke”. You bury your rosy cheeks in your jacket as you book it to Abigail’s place.

You’ve returned to your normal pigment by the time you reach Pierre’s store. You head to the far door near the counter, giving Pierre a brief wave as he finishes up with a customer, but before you reach the door, Pierre calls for your attention.

“If you’re going to see Abigail, I’m going to politely ask you to refrain.” He hands the customer their receipt and waits for them to gain some distance before continuing. “She’s grounded for the next two weeks.”

Uhhh isn’t she a grown woman? You keep your thoughts to yourself, as you watch your last chance at a place to stay (that’s free of Sebastian) evaporate before your eyes. You’re desperate at this point so you try one last ditch effort.

“Oh gosh, I had no idea,” you respond, really laying on the charm. “It’s especially bad timing cause I really needed a place to stay this Thursday.” You go on to explain the construction, and the following series of unfortunate events, hoping to earn sympathy points, and persuade him to make an exception. “So that’s why I’m urgently searching. I promise I won’t be a nuisance and I could stay on the couch rather than Abby’s room.” Your desperation is becoming evident and you rapidly search your thoughts for more convincing ideas. “And I’ll promise not to talk to Abby while I’m here… and…”,you trail off trying to think of a better argument, but Pierre stops you.

“I’m sorry, Y/n. I really wish I could help you but this just isn’t a good time.”

Fucking dick. If he did actually want to help you, he’d agree to let you stay.

“I understand,” you say with a tinge of bitterness. “Oh, I used that wonderful deluxe fertilizer you suggested. It worked wonders on my yams! I might stock up for the rest of my crops too…”

Pierre narrowed his eyes at you and your blatant attempt at bribery. He paused for a moment and you felt a tiny glimmer of hope that he was actually considering your offer.

“The answer is no, Y/n. I hope to see you back another day for that fertilizer.” That was definitely his way of asking you to leave. You give a polite nod in acknowledgment and leave the shop.

How? How is all this happening now?! Why does it feel like the universe is working against you?!

As these questions rage in your mind you turn the corner of the building, hoping to get some explanation. You swiftly approach Abby’s window and give it a few stern taps. You can hear shuffling from the other side and it takes a sec for Abby to come open the window.

“Hey what’s up?” Her tone is clearly irritated though you know that irritation isn’t directed at you. The fact that you came to her window leads her to conclude that you are already aware of her circumstance.

“Why’s your dad pissed? I mean I know he’s pissed a lot but this seems pretty extreme,” you ask, matching her same annoyance in solidarity.

Abby rolls her eyes and explains, “he found my weed stash. I have no idea how he even found it or why he looked through my stuff.” You did find this strange cause you knew where Abby hid her weed and you thought it was a damn good spot, too. She kept it taped to the backside of her nightstand drawer, so you’d have to pull the drawer completely out the the stand in order to get it. “Maybe he saw me pull it out or something?” She tried to rationalize before continuing, “But he obviously knew something since he knew exactly where to look.” It’s clear she’s suspicious that someone ratted her out to Pierre but only you, Sam and Sebastian knew where she kept it.

A lightbulb goes off in your head, and all the color drains from your face. Abby takes notice of your shift in demeanor.

“What? Do you know something?” She presses forward on the window pane urging you to share what you know. But you don’t have any proof, and she’s known Sebastian way longer than you, so why should she believe you? It would also make you look very suspicious, too, if you were to suggest him as the culprit.

“I’m just worried it’s… my fault because of… that time I left my lighter in your room! Like, what if he saw it and was like ‘why on earth is there a lighter in Abby’s room?!’ and then decided to search around?” You can feel your stomach in knots as you wait for Abby’s response.

At first she’s a little puzzled by your admission, but then she gives a soft, reassuring smile. “I seriously doubt that’s what tipped him off but it’s kinda cute that you feel that kind of guilt. Especially for something unintentional.”

You let out a sigh of relief and decide to explain your original intention for swinging by. You can’t help but think that this also gives you a stronger alibi of not being the one who snitched.

“Damn, that is hella unlucky,” she says. “But I’m sure Seb can help you out. He hardly leaves the house anyway so there’s no way he’s got plans or anything. Though, I can’t blame you for trying to find somewhere else instead.” Your ears perk up at this comment.

Has she seen the stuff he does? Has he done it to her? Are you finally not alone in this and someone else knows how fucking batshit crazy this all is?!

“Oh, yeah,” you say, trying to play it cool but wanting her to elaborate. “What makes you say that?”

“Oh, you know…. cause boys are so gross.” You feel your heart sink into the deepest pit of your stomach. You give an agreeing smile and nod, holding in the fact that you just want to scream. Abby continues. “I mean, can you imagine what Sam and Seb’s rooms would look like if you held up a black light. Ugh, it grosses me out just thinking about it.”

Again, you agree with her and accept your defeat. You trudge your way back to the main road and you head back to your farm with your head hung low. It’s a chilly evening and Robin is still working when you return, so you approach her and let her know that you’d like to take her up on her offer. She seems so pleased to hear you accept her invitation and begs you to join them for dinner that night, as well. Being the people-pleaser you are, you reluctantly agree and head inside. The dread of Thursday is already setting in, no matter how hard you try to push that feeling away.

You plop down on the couch, worn out from physical and emotional exhaustion. You get a text notification on your phone and as you go check it, expecting it to be Leah with a termite update, your breath catches in your throat.

Sebastian:

Glad you came to your senses and accepted the invite. Such a good girl

It feels as if your heart could pound right out your chest as you read and reread his text. You have so many questions and are completely terrified at this point.

Do I… should I… respond?

You shakily type your reply.

Y/n:

Why are you doing this? How did you do all this???

He responds mere seconds later, though it feels like an eternity of watching those three little dots appear, disappear and reappear over and over.

Sebastian:

So impatient. I’ve got to hold onto some of my secrets, you know? Be a good girl, and wait just a bit longer. I’ll be sure to reward my princess for her obedience

A second text soon follows.

Sebastian:

Also, I’m sure this goes without saying, but let’s keep this between us. No need for anyone to know our little secret, right? You’re such a good, obedient girl. However, if you do go and tell anyone else, that would make you a very bad girl, and I would be forced to punish you

You drop your phone beside you and lay there on the couch, staring at the ceiling. You’ve grown tired of trying to out maneuver Sebastian and his sick games, leaving you begrudgingly accept your fate. You lay on the couch for hours, unable to bring yourself to move, until you eventually fall into a restless sleep.

#sdv farmer #sdv sebastian #sdv sebastian x reader #sebastian x farmer #stardew sebastian #sdv #stardew valley #sdv smut #sdv fanfic #sebastian yandere #sebastian stan #stardew smut #stardew valley fanfic #stardew farmer #yandere

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drysdalesworld · 4 months ago

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Can I send in a request for Jamie? Maybe him and reader who live together get a puppy and she spends all her time cuddling the puppy and Jamie gets jealous. Just something cute and fluffy :)

of puppies & jealousy

ahh such a cute idea, i love! tyty for requesting & i hope you like it <3

pairing: jamie drysdale x fem!reader

genre: fluff

warning(s): none!

note: pre-tade era! also, so sorry it’s short!

The topic of getting a dog was something that wasn’t new with you and your boyfriend, Jamie. He had been begging you for weeks to cave in and come with him to the local animal shelter a couple of blocks down to get a dog. And when you finally did, he was so over the moon.

He showed you all the profiles of the dogs at the shelter, eyes wide and smile beaming as he swiped through each one on his phone. He didn’t have a preference per se, but you could tell which specific dog he liked more as his smile seemed to get bigger once he scrolled onto the animals profile.

Jamie had been so excited to do this with you. He practically talked your ear off the entire ride to the shelter and back to your shared apartment. You couldn’t tell who was louder between the two, your boyfriend or the new dog in the backseat.

Weeks had gone by since the two of you had adopted your new fur baby. Let’s just say, it wasn’t the easiest in the beginning.

Rocco, or Rocky as Jamie liked to call him, tore through every furniture in your shared apartment. First, it was the couch your parents had given to you after you moved out of their house just a few years ago, so it didn’t really matter if the material of the couch had a couple of puppy bite marks embedded in it.

Then it was the bed post. You nearly had a heart attack and two when you saw a pretty decent size of the leg of the bed post missing when you had bent down to grab some dirty laundry from the floor. Jamie had rushed him to the vet as you sat in the backseat tearing up about Rocco having potentially swallow some wood. But, all was well after an x-ray and good pets from the veterinarians. No swallowed wood, thankfully.

And lastly, the beloved thrifted rug you had gotten as a birthday present, had been practically torn to shreds after you and Jamie had came back from date night. Poor Rocco was given no treats or pets for the rest of the night.

Albeit the beginning of having a new puppy and the ups and downs of navigating life with basically a toddler in animal form, you wouldn’t’ve traded it for the world, especially when Rocco began to prefer you more over your boyfriend.

“It’s no fair, babe!” Jamie whined, pout on his lips as he watched Rocky cuddle further into your chest on the bite infested couch. “You didn’t even want him in the first place and now he likes you more than me”.

You giggled at your boyfriends childish tone, scratching the dog behind his ear as he gazed up at you with half his tongue out. “Don’t hate the player, Jam. Hate the game”.

Jamie only groaned and frowned further, “But you still love me right?”.

The mans question made you want to roll your eyes and shake your head at how ridiculous he was being. “Of course, Jamie. I will always love you,” you replied, unoccupied hand reaching out to scratch his scalp.

“Okay, good. I can’t have Rocky taking my place as your number one,” he grumbled, head relaxing against your thighs. “I love you too”.

Both Rocco and Jamie were rendered useless and in puddles as you continued to scratch at their most sensitive spots. You sometimes thought Jamie was more of the puppy than Rocco.

“You’ll always be my number one, Jams,” you whispered quietly as both boys, human and dog alike, began to drift off into a peaceful slumber.

Yeah, you wouldn’t trade this for this world.

#drysdalesworld #drysdalesworld works!#hockey x reader #nhl x reader #jamie drysdale #jamie drysdale x reader #jamie drysdale x fem!reader #jamie drysdale imagine #jamie drysdale drabble #jamie drysdale blurb #jamie drysdale x y/n #jamie drysdale x you

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corroded-hellfire · 1 year ago

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Infestation, Oppression, Possession - Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: You warn Eddie about playing with a Ouija board, too bad he doesn’t listen.

Note: As a horror movie junkie, my personal favorites are the possession ones (esp The Conjuring, where the title of this comes from) so here’s a little Halloween horror starring Eddie

Warnings: playing with ouija board, possession, general spookiness because tis the season

Words: 2.7k

“Please promise me that you won’t play with it,” you beg your boyfriend. “They’re dangerous.”

Eddie chuckles and shakes his head. “Babe, it’s just a piece of wood with some paint on it. How could it be dangerous?”

You eye the Ouija board sitting on his bed, the planchette inconspicuously resting on top of it. There are no shortage of horror stories and cautionary tales warning people away from playing with such a dangerous game. You’ve spent the better part of the last hour relating these worries to Eddie, who seems to think nothing of them at all–or about the fact that he bought it to begin with. It doesn’t seem to matter how much the whole thing bothers you.

“You never know who or what you’re communicating with,” you tell Eddie. “You could be opening a portal for something evil.” “So, you think a demon is going to decide to come here to little ol’ Hawkins? And will want to possess me? I’m flattered.” Eddie raises his eyebrows and lets out a small chuckle. A groan slips from your lips as you rub your hands over your face in aggravation.

“Just…please,” you beg as you stand up from where you’re perched on Eddie’s amp. “For me? Just throw it out.”

“Sweetheart,” Eddie says as he takes a few steps over to you. He places his hands on your shoulders and presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “Relax, okay? I’ll be careful.”

“Can’t you just–”

“Baby,” Eddie interrupts you. “Go to work, okay? I promise I’ll put it away.”

“You should throw it away,” you say sternly. “Or burn it. You’d have fun doing that, I know.”

Eddie chuckles and presses another kiss to your head. He slips his arms around you and tugs you against his chest. “Come on, sweetheart. It’s okay. Just go to work and try and forget all about it, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you mumble, pulling out of his arms. “Serving greasy burgers to angry truckers is really going to take a load off my mind.”

Calloused fingers gently grip your chin and tilt your head up. Soft but chapped lips press against your own and you close your eyes as you lean into the kiss.

“I love you,” Eddie whispers against your mouth.

“I love you, too.”

“Everything is going to be fine,” Eddie assures you. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? Bright and early with two coffees.”

“Make sure you don’t drink half of mine before you get to my house this time,” you say as you swipe one of your boyfriend’s hoodies from where it’s sprawled across his desk.

“No promises,” Eddie tells you as you slip the sweatshirt on over your head.

You press one last kiss to his lips, avoiding looking at the devil board on his bed, before heading out to work.

Eddie huffs a laugh to himself once you’ve left. He’s surprised that you’re so worried about the Ouija board. Usually, you’re so cool and collected, always logical and tactful in your way of thinking. It’s not like you to believe in some silly superstition. Maybe it’s just getting too close to Halloween, Eddie thinks as he picks up the board and planchette. Corroded Coffin should be by in about twenty minutes for a songwriting session, but first, Eddie thinks, perhaps the guys will have some fun and try to scare one another.

The next night, Eddie’s lounging on his bed, guitar perched on his lap as he strums a few new chords that the band came up with last night. His amp is on since Wayne isn’t home, turned down just enough so the neighbors won’t complain. Fingers glide over the strings as Eddie plays around with the sounds of a possible new song. A beautiful melody flows to meet Eddie’s ears, but the moment he lets his eyes slip closed to lose himself in the music, the amp cuts out.

The sudden silence has Eddie sitting up and frowning at the amp in confusion. Gently setting his sweetheart down on the bed, he leans over to fiddle with the controls on the amp. It’s still turned on, all the dials are set just as they should be, so why did it go quiet? Eddie pushes himself off the bed to make sure the plug hasn’t come loose. A deeper frown etches on Eddie’s forehead as he sees the plug snugly in place in the outlet.

“Stupid old trailer,” Eddie grumbles as he gets down on his knees. “God damn electric problems.”

The outlet above the one the amp is plugged into has Eddie’s lamp connected to it–the same lamp that’s currently on and shining brightly next to his bed. Yanking both cords from the wall, Eddie tries putting the lamp’s plug into the bottom outlet, just to make sure that’s what isn’t working. The moment the prongs snap into the wall though, the light illuminates his dark room again.

“What the fuck,” Eddie mutters under his breath. He switches the lamp back to the top outlet and puts the amp back into the bottom one. “This amp is new, what the hell? Stupid piece of–”

Earsplitting feedback abruptly rings out through the amp, causing Eddie to fall back on his ass and cover his ears. Heart beating faster than a hummingbird’s wings, Eddie stares at the amp with wide eyes. The racket only lasts five seconds, but it’s enough to freak Eddie out.

“O-Okay…” Eddie says as he pushes himself back to his feet. The room is quiet once again. The lamp is on, his guitar is still nestled against his pillow, and the amp sits there inconspicuously on the stained carpet.

“Jesus, this place is a shithole,” Eddie says, trying to convince himself it’s just some faulty wiring in his old home. He sits back down on his bed and the moment he grips the neck of his sweetheart, the bleating sound of the phone ringing in the hallway has him jumping out of his skin. Once his mind registers what the new noise is, Eddie laughs at himself as he sets his guitar back down and heads toward the phone. “You’re a wuss, Munson. Yeah, yeah, I’m coming, keep your pants on. Hello?”

“Hey, Eddie,” your cheerful voice greets through the phone.

“Hi, babe. Hmm, I take back what I just said then.”

“What?” you ask.

“I told whoever was on the phone to keep their pants on as I walked down the hall. I take that back now.” You can practically hear the smirk on your boyfriend’s face.

“Who said I’m even wearing any?” you tease.

“I’m listening.”

The mystery of the faulty sound equipment quickly fades from Eddie’s head.

Eddie huffs as he uses a flashlight to look through the pantry. The damn lights in the trailer are flickering like crazy and it’s driving Eddie up the wall. At first, he’d thought it was just the lights in his room, but it seemed to follow him down the hall and into the living room as well.

Searching for something to eat, the aggravation only hits a new high when the flashlight in Eddie’s hands also starts flickering.

“Okay, what the actual fuck?” Eddie demands. He bangs the flashlight against his palm and the beam becomes steady once more. “Thank you.”

As if the lights heard his pleasure, they all turn off at once–even the flashlight.

“Are you shitting me?” Eddie shouts. The darkness comes on so quickly that Eddie’s eyes take their sweet time adjusting. He bangs his head on a cabinet as he shuffles out of the kitchen. Like someone flipped a switch, the lights come on all at once–even ones that weren’t turned on before. The sudden brightness burns Eddie’s eyes, and he drops the flashlight to cover them. Slowly, the lights fade back to their usual strength and Eddie is able to open his eyes without pain. He blinks them a few times, still getting them to adjust to the brightness when the front door opens and Wayne steps inside.

The older man shrugs out of his jacket and hangs it on a hook near the door. He eyes Eddie where he stands, eyes watering from how sensitive they are right now.

“What’s with you, boy?” Wayne asks.

“Did you pay the electric bill?” Eddie asks in return, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands.

“‘Course I did. Why?”

“Because these damn lights are going crazy,” Eddie says, flinging one hand in the direction of the nearest lamp. “Just wait, they’ve been flickering for an hour now.”

Wayne stands near the door with his hands on his hips, looking around the room at the different lights that are on. Eddie squares his jaw when not even one little flicker occurs.

“Smoke a little too much tonight?” Wayne asks with a chuckle as he walks past his nephew and into the kitchen.

“I didn’t even…ugh, never mind.”

“You want a grilled cheese?” Wayne asks, opening the fridge.

“Sure. Thanks.” Eddie plops down on the couch and stares at the ceiling. The lights had been going crazy–right?

“Did you sleep at all last night?” you ask Eddie at lunch.

Dull brown eyes slide over to you, dark bag eyes beneath them puffy and prevalent, and seem as if they look right through you.

“A little,” Eddie says with a shrug.

“Dude, you look like shit,” Gareth says.

The Dungeon Master raises his hand to flip off his friend while he lowers his head down to the lunch table. He felt like shit too, but he wouldn’t give his friends the satisfaction of knowing that.

Over the next few days, Eddie only looks worse and worse. His face begins to look drawn, his skin a sickly shade of greenish gray. His clothes are more unkempt and wrinkled than normal, appearing as if he’d slept in them the night before. Every morning on the way to school you’d try to get out the knots that had accumulated in your boyfriend’s hair during the night. There hadn’t been a time when his hair had been this much of a pain before. Eventually, you just slip your red scrunchie from your wrist and tie his hair into a ponytail at the base of his neck.

“Are we getting pizza tonight?” you ask as Eddie parks his van in the Hawkins High parking lot.

“Babe, I’m not even going to Hellfire tonight,” he tells you, all emotion zapped from his voice.

“You’re not going to Hellfire?” you ask in shock.

“No,” Eddie grumbles as he pulls the keys from the ignition.

“Why don’t you just go home, baby?” you suggest as you reach over and move a few loose strands of hair out of his face.

“Maybe.” Eddie gives a half-hearted shrug and shoves the van door open and slides out. Frown still pinched on your face, you follow him out and stick by his side as long as you can until you have to go to your separate first periods.

Your phone rings as you’re buttoning your jeans the next morning, and you hop over to pick it up.

“Hello?”

“Hey, sweetheart.” There’s no energy in Eddie’s voice, the sound raspy and gravelly. “I can’t take you to school today. Not getting out of bed.”

“Aww, baby,” you coo. “I’m going to come over and take care of you. I’ll be there in twenty.”

“No,” Eddie responds. “You’ve got a test today, go to school.”

“Can’t hear you. I’m coming over. Bye.” You hang up before he can protest again; because you know he will. Eddie’s hoodie from the other week is still hanging over the chair in your room so you toss it on before heading out the door to your car.

Eddie looks as shitty as he sounded when you get to his place. He’s sprawled out in bed, the covers tucked up under his chin and his eyes half-lidded as he tries to focus on you. You sigh as you sit down on the edge of his bed. When you reach up and move some hair off of his forehead you feel that his skin is surprisingly cool against your fingertips. You’d expected heat there–most likely a fever raging inside of his body.

“Are you cold?” you ask. Eddie nods, seeming like he hardly has the energy for even that. “I’ll get you another blanket.”

The room feels chilly to you as well, but not enough to warrant two heavy blankets being piled atop of you. Something is definitely going on inside of his body. As you open Eddie’s closet to grab another blanket, your eyes land on the Ouija board sitting on top of a pile of dirty clothes. The room suddenly feels hot as your temper flares. Anger builds up in your chest and your nostrils flare as you snatch up a blanket. Spinning around to face Eddie again, you stomp over to him.

“What the hell, Eddie? Why is the Ouija board still here?” you demand.

Eddie groans and turns his head to bury it in his pillow.

“Talk quieter, please,” he begs.

“Answer. Me.” Despite your anger, you’re not heartless. You lower your volume as you shake out the blanket and lay it across your boyfriend’s body. “Did you play with it?”

The guilty look that crosses his face gives you his answer before he opens his mouth to croak out, “Yes.”

“Eddie,” you whine, running your hands over your hair. “What if that’s what’s wrong?” You gesture to him lying down on his bed, lethargic and exhausted.

“Stop,” Eddie groans, squeezing his eyes closed. “M’just getting sick. Or worn down.”

“But you don’t know–”

“Babe, calm down,” Eddie begs, trying to inject as much fervor into his voice as he can. “It’s not from some dumb game. That’s ridiculous.”

The only reason you bite your tongue is because he looks so miserable bundled up in the middle of his bed. Deciding to let it go for now, you sit down next to his head and card your fingers through his curls.

“Can I get you anything?” you ask him softly.

“Just you,” Eddie answers, mustering up a small smile to give you.

As you lean down to press another kiss to his forehead, you swear he feels even colder than he did a few minutes ago.

Eddie still isn’t back to himself the next week. In fact, he says he feels worse. You weren’t able to take the whole time off from school or work, but any moment that wasn’t spent somewhere you were obligated to be, you were at his side. He refused to go to the doctor and even Wayne couldn’t get him to go. It seems the shittier Eddie feels the more stubborn he is.

On Thursday, you don’t have work, so you head to Eddie’s place straight from school. He hasn’t been able to answer the door since he’s been staying in bed most of the time, so you just let yourself inside as usual.

“I’m here, Eddie,” you call out, not too loud though, in case he’s asleep. Your sneakers join the small pile of shoes near the front door, and you pad down the hallway to your boyfriend’s room. Confusion furrows your brow when you don’t see him in his bed. A glance behind you confirms that he’s not in the bathroom, so where else could he be? You take a few steps into his room and spot Eddie standing near the closet, his back to you. His back is straight as a rod and his stained Marlboro shirt and blue plaid pajama pants hang loose on his thin frame, even thinner from lack of food lately.

Cautiously, you take a few steps in his direction. The hair on the back of your neck is raised but you’re not sure why. It’s just your boyfriend.

“Eddie?” you ask timidly. “Are you okay? What are you doing out of bed? Eddie?”

A few heavy silent moments hang in the air. Then with a sudden sickening cracking sound, Eddie’s head snaps towards you. With a gasp, you take a step back. His eyes are entirely black. No trace of the dark brown that you love so much or the white that should be there. Pure black, darker than night. A sinister, toothy smile slides onto the mouth you’ve kissed so many times before. Your body trembles from the inside out as you stare in horror at whatever you’re witnessing in front of you. Eddie’s mouth opens, but the growling voice that comes out does not belong to him.

“Eddie isn’t here anymore.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fic #eddie munson imagine

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promiscuouspomegranate · 25 days ago

Text

|| COCOON

fem! yan x fem! reader TWs: So fucking unsettling.

Lucille was a pretty girl—obnoxiously so. She was the kind of pretty that would cause one to strain their neck in search of their own reflection to see how ugly they were in comparison. They would always be uglier than her and often would blush for the shame of their own homely faces or plain appearance. This is how Lucille knew she was a pretty girl, not because people told her—no, they were far too insecure to do so—but by how miserable they looked whenever her presence graced the room. With whatever soul she had, she felt a deep, almost sadistic pleasure in it, but with how her concealed lips would form into a thin smile, nobody knew. Her father would often scold her for her debauched behavior and often wondered what he did wrong; perhaps he had been too lenient or delicate with his precious child—though he never did anything of any nature, he was simply there. Lucille hated the man but had no justification for her hatred, as he never laid a hand on her or yelled with a belligerent tone. She surmised that he had some hidden evil that he dared not to tell her; perhaps he was a drunk, a sloth, or a degenerate. Yet, she knew why she really hated the man, because she knew that behind his glassy baby-blue eyes, he saw her.

Lucille’s eyes were far prettier than her father’s and, if she ever met her whore of a mother, her eyes would be prettier than that skank’s. They were wide malachite-colored things that usually had pupils so dilated you could see your reflection in them. Her most recent ex-boyfriend frequently teased her and said he always thought she was high out of her mind. He would have to repeat himself more than once whenever he said anything. She never paid any attention. He left her at the start of spring break, and a day later, he left Duruston. Nobody remembered his name, they just knew him as Lucille’s boyfriend.

She wanted to leave Duruston too, but she did not have the money or the means. So, she spent all her time doing the usual things—wandering the strip mall, getting her nails done, letting the artificial glow of the tanning salon mask the shadows she couldn’t. At the bug-infested diner, she picked at greasy fries with her friends, spoke in half-laughs, and ended most nights at the cemetery. Most of the time, she did not have to even glance at her thrifted designer purse; everyone paid for her things. They just expected favors in return.

Except for Butterfly. Butterfly never asked for favors, except for that one time when she bleached her hair, and half of it fell off in the shower. Butterfly was a sweet girl, the sweetest girl Lucille had ever met—Lucille was so convinced of this that she thought if she were to bite into Butterfly’s pallid skin, all her teeth would rot out. Lucille had a habit of noticing every little thing Butterfly did; her green eyes would often sparkle with some form of stolen light and shine with a glow akin to grief. Butterfly never noticed this. She was always too busy fidgeting with the hem of the blue sweater Lucille bought for her.

“You’re cold again,” Lucille mumbled before turning down the C.D. Butterfly made for her—a collection of David Bowie’s greatest hits. “Hm?” Butterfly’s head perked up from the magazine she was reading, “Sorry, I didn’t—” “We should go to the tanning salon; I want to tan again. Am I pale? I think I look pale, and you know Blake doesn’t like ghostly girls.” “We could, but I hate it there. You could get skin cancer one day, Lucy,” Butterfly closed the magazine and tossed it over the bed, “I worry about—” “I’ll grab my purse, just wait in the car, okay Butterfly?” “God, would it kill you to call me…” Lucille exited her bedroom, gently closing the wooden door behind her. She traced her well-manicured fingers across the yellow walls, counting how many individual linoleum tiles were on the floor. She reached the kitchen and found a Franklin taped to the refrigerator beside a sticky note that read “For dinner — Dad.” She stuffed it into the pockets of her jeans, grabbed the keys from the counter, and left the house. The winter sun was sinking into the line of pine trees just beyond her house, seemingly disappearing and only leaving an embryo-colored glow in its wake. She started her father’s Ford Focus, honking the horn three times so Butterfly would rush out the front door. She had timed Butterfly’s movements in the back of her head; right now, she was probably taking a deep breath and reciting a prayer. In two minutes, she would come stumbling out the front door, holding her star-shaped messenger bag and rummaging around for the latest C.D. her mother let her buy. “You’ll like this one,” Butterfly smiled, her head tilting down and a light, coy blush crept over her face, “My grandmother recommended some oldies to me recently, I— I really love them.” “It’s so… you,” Lucille sighed, rolling her eyes as she tuned out the voice of Frankie Valli for the hundredth time. “Is that a compliment?” Butterfly’s blush turned shameful, and she paused the C.D., fidgeting with the radio, “Never mind, we can listen to the station.” The rest of the car ride was silent. Lucille was not expecting that outcome at all—no, something was terribly wrong with Butterfly. She broke a part of her nail as she held the wheel, choking the hot-pink faux fur cover, ripping the fuzz off with her index and thumb. Her dilated eyes stared at Butterfly, who was too occupied fidgeting with the hem of her sweater. The sweater Lucille bought for her. “Can we park close to the salon this time? I don’t want to walk through the drizzle,” Butterfly’s hand found its way on top of Lucille’s, cautiously placing her calloused fingertips on her slender fingers. “Anything you want,” Lucille mumbled, finally facing the road again, and loosening her grip from the wheel. “Oh, you chipped a nail. You’ll—” “I’ll get Blake to pay for my new set. He said he would after what I did for him last week,” Lucille pulled the car into the parking lot. Butterfly took her hand off Lucille’s and grabbed her messenger bag, leaving Lucille alone to take a deep breath. Lucille took many shallow breaths, and she felt like she was stealing all the air from the world and choking on it. She watched Butterfly walk into the tanning salon—that idiot was probably fumbling over her words. Lucille decided to help her, again.

“Uhm, no I just— She should—” “I want room number 13, and bring one of those folding chairs with you, for my Butterfly,” Lucille crossed her arms, sizing the old hag at the register. “Hah, that’s just a nick—” “Sure thing, ladies,” The wrinkled thing said, grabbing one of the folding chairs in the corner with her flabby arms. They entered the room, and Lucille locked the door behind them. She stripped herself entirely, except for the heart sticker she applied just below her navel. She stared at Butterfly, whose face was burrowed deeply into the library’s copy of “The Metamorphasis.” “Can you set the timer for me?” Lucille asked, slowly heading toward the tanning bed, and crawling inside. The lid hummed as it lowered, sealing her in a cocoon of sterile light. The bulbs flickered to life, casting an artificial sun over her skin, too bright and too close. The heat pressed down, heavy and suffocating. She closed her eyes, but the somber blue glow seeped through her eyelids, pulsing like the beat of some distant, unseen heart. “So, how was your week, Butterfly?” Lucille asked, picturing how Butterfly’s face would scrunch in response. “You know I hate that name, Lucy,” Butterfly closed her book, tossing it onto the ground, “Why can’t you just call me—” “Is it because Lorelei gave it to you? Her and I went to blockbuster recently, rented a copy of that movie you recommended. It was so…” “So me,” Butterfly filled the silence, her voice trembling like a leaf blowing in the wind. “You know,” Lucille decided to tease her friend, in hopes it would strengthen the girl, “Lorelei said—”

“Stop.”

“She told me that you—”

“Lucille, shut up.”

“God, you are so dramatic,” Lucille laughed, she could see the silent tears, and could taste the refreshing sweetness of them, “Lorelei just told me about the party you and her went to. You know, the one where you got wasted.”

“Can w-we please talk—”

“I don’t think you’re a faggot, if that helps.”

Lucille heard Butterfly choke on a sob and could picture her pretty little fingers covering her chapped lips, pitifully trying to hide her shame. She bet it was beautiful—like one of those paintings left to collect dust in a gallery. She heard the rustling of books, a bag, and then sneakers. When Lucille emerged from the tanning bed to change sides, the door was wide open, and Butterfly was nowhere in sight.

For the first time in her life, she could feel her pupils shrink, shrinking so small that she could barely see straight.

“Butterfly…?”

“Y//N?”

…

Twelve days, three hours, and a few minutes had passed since Butterfly last spoke to Lucille. Odd, very odd indeed, was all Lucille could make of the situation—Butterfly never did things like this; she always returned to her in the end. She had gotten with Blake, precious little Blake, who paid for everything she wanted, took her downtown, and wouldn’t even record Lucille when she did favors. He was a nice guy, really, one of the sweetest she ever got with. Lucille’s mind flickered through a kaleidoscope of futures—none of them hers, all of them too bleak, and drenched in colors too bright, too wrong. The nausea came suddenly, rising like bile. She stumbled out of bed, each step a stagger across the cold linoleum, the floor stretching longer than it should—maybe she miscounted the tiles?

“To be Mrs. Fern,” Lucille thought, “Is to be dead.”

Her feet sunk into the mud as she headed into the pine forest, her skin drenched in a cold sweat. The pasty moon cut into the woods, illuminating the shadows on her face and hiding her eyes in a veil of darkness. There was an unmeasured rhythm in her footsteps: one… two… three… four… five… six—a waltz of sorts.

“Christ,” she muttered under her raspy breath, “Know she’s out here.”

Then, in the heart of the woods, she saw her. Really saw her. Butterfly stood bathed in moonlight, every shadow bending to her, every leaf trembling in worship. Her face—soft, radiant—blurred at the edges, as if she was slipping between worlds. Lucille’s breath caught in her throat, a sharp, reverent ache. This wasn’t a person standing before her; this was creation itself. God, she thought, whatever was left of her mind ablaze. This is God. Tears stung Lucille’s eyes as she dropped to her knees, arms outstretched, trembling under the weight of revelation. How could she not have seen it before? Every step, every word, every glance—it all led here. To her.

Lucille crawled to her, her ears clinging to the end of Butterfly’s prayer. Lucille’s abhorrent body rose above Butterfly, and she grabbed her face, forcing her to look forward. She slipped her slender hands over Butterfly’s mouth, sticking her fingers over her tongue, choking her words.

“Oh, Y//N, why did you—”

“H-ahng? Hoo arh yoo?”

“You’re so—” Lucille’s hand traveled down to Butterfly’s neck, and she imagined what it would be like to kill a god.

“I can’t breathe.”

“I love you, Butterfly.”

“L-Lucille, is that you…?”

Lucille’s hands slid further, deeper, until the boundary between flesh and god blurred. The warmth of Butterfly’s body gave way to something colder, something unnameable. A wet, visceral sound filled the air—part whisper, part echo, like the woods themselves were holding their breath. Lucille couldn’t tell where her hands ended and where Butterfly began.

The ink on the missing posters faded from the constant storms. Nobody had been able to find poor Lucille.

#❤︎.pomegranate #yandere writing #yandere #yandere character #yandere oc #dark romance #yandere oneshot #lesbian yandere #yanblr #obsessive love #obslove #yandere lesbian

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mediocre-writerr · 2 years ago

Note

hiii!!! Congratulations on 2k! Can i request a wandaxfem!reader where r feels like wanda doesn't love her the same way she does. then r gets terribly injured in a mission and all her insecurities washes away when she wakes up in the med bay with wanda holding her hand... “i’ll be fine for tonight with you by my side, but don’t you know you’re my lifeline) - (lifeline, joshua bassett)

lifeline [wanda maximoff]

warnings: stab wounds, explosion, mentions of breathing tubes, mentions of hospitals, slight mention of throwing up, a few curse words, tried to be accurate, but probably inaccurate medical terminology and scenarios

pairings: wanda maximoff x fem!reader

*not my gif*

“Nat?” Wanda asks. Her phone pressed against her cheek as she stirred dinner for the rest of the team.

She could hear the sounds of beeping and mumbling from the other line. The ex-assassin clears her throat, “Wanda something happened on the mission,” her heart dropped into the pits of her stomach. “Y/N got injured…really bad, actually. Her injuries are so severe that Fury recommended we go straight to the hospital. We had to take her to hospitall. I think you should fly out here as soon as you can.”

There was a pause of silence. Neither of the two girls really know what to say. Wanda’s mouth opened and closed like a fish as she tried to find words. Nat cleared her throat again, “You may want to hurry. Doc said she may only have twelve hours.” Natasha’s voice cracking rings in the witch’s ears.

All of a sudden the phone felt heavy, like she was holding the weight of five elephants in the palm of her hand. The phone crashed onto the floor with a soft thump, catching the attention of Clint and Steve who were setting up the table for dinner. Their eyes land on the distressed girl, “Wanda? What happened?” Steve asked, stepping hesitantly closer to her. His blue eyes searching her green ones, trying to read what had just happened.

The girl couldn’t form words though. Her throat felt tight as tears started to build like towers. Clint picked the phone from off the floor, hearing Nat’s voice speak muffled against the line, “Nat? What’s going on?” His confused expression slowly turns into an urgency as he looks at his Captain. He hangs up the phone quickly, “Steve get the quinjet ready, we need to go. Now.”

Clint wrapped the younger Avenger into his arms, holding her tighter than ever before, “She’s going to be okay.”

It was a simple mission, really, to stake out the Hydra infested warehouse, once it's empty, get in there and steal intel. A mission you and Nat have done countless times. You should’ve known that it would end in disaster when you thought to yourself ‘Oh this is easy! I could be home for dinner!’ Whenever someone says that, it never ends well.

The warehouse was set up in a series of buildings, so it was hard to tell if it was fully cleared. Maybe that’s how you should’ve known it wasn’t going to end well. But honestly, during the stakeout you were falling asleep at the wheel. Your best friend’s arm nudged your side with her elbow, “Usually you’re bouncing off the walls, annoying the crap out of me. What gives?”

You rub your eyes, pinching at the bridge of your nose, “Wanda and I had this huge fight before I left,” you let out a soft sigh, crossing your arms over your cloth and spandex mashed suit.

Natasha’s eyebrows raised in surprise, “But you never leave each other on a sour note before a mission.”

You nod, letting out a soft sigh, “I know hence why I could not get any sleep on the way over here.”

“Are you guys okay?”

“No, I don’t know. I hope so. It was a pretty rough one. So rough that we didn’t even say goodbye to one another before I left. ”

She squeezes your shoulder, “Do you want to talk about it?” Which you just merely shook your head in response. It wasn’t something you wanted ingrained in your head as you were about to fight loads of Hydra agents, “Alright, well, let’s just hope you don’t have a web block when we’re in there. I know how you get when the two of you fight. Now c’mon let’s get in, so we can get home for dinner!”

You throw on your mask, opening your arms up for the Russian, “C’mon little spider,” she rolls her eyes at you. Muttering under her breath about how your powers are literally ones of a spider before she clung onto you, as you swung the two of you onto the roof of the warehouse.

The warehouse was huge, as you and Nat snuck in through the air ducts. You and Nat glance at each other, already discussing earlier how you want to split up the search. She extends her hand out for the two of you to do your secret handshake, in your own way telling one another to be safe, before she splits in the opposite direction from you.

Towards the back of the building, there was one of these hallways leading you into the next building over, so you quickly made your way through. You froze in your spot, your spidey senses tingling, and you could feel someone’s presence around you. Before you could dodge out of the way, the HYDRA agent launched himself at you, tackling you into the crates behind you, pain shooting through your spine. The shock of the attack paralyzed you for a second, before your spidey senses kicked in and you dodged the punch that was coming. You kicked the agent square in the chest, lifting yourself up in the process.

From the corner of your eye you could see a bomb strapped onto one of the SHIELD agents who recently joined, pressing your finger to your ear piece, “Nat! There’s a bomb! They knew we were coming! You need to get out of here!”

“There is no way I am leaving you!” She shouts, “Where in the warehouse are you? I’ll get to you!”

A sharp pain shot through your body, as the HYDRA agent pulled a knife out your side. You let out a yelp in pain before you webbed him onto the wall, “Y/N! What was that noise?!” Nat yells.

You shook your head even though she couldn’t see you, “Never mind that! Call Fury, tell him we need someone who can disarm this. There’s an agent strapped to it,” you rushed over to the panicked agent with his mouth covered in duct tape. Inspecting the wires and the time that read 4 hours, you didn’t notice the way he was thrashing about, like he was trying to warn you about something.

Suddenly, a loud buzzing noise filled your ears, causing you to flinch back. The red numbers, quickly turning to 30 seconds. Your eyes flickered to the trapped HYDRA agent who had the explosive trigger in his hand and a smug smirk on his face, “Hail Hydra,” he repeated, resting his head against the wall as he accepted his fate.

“Nat! You need to go now! Run! Please!” you frantically looked at the wires, trying to figure out how to disarm it. The SHIELD agent in front of you sobbing as he shook his head, looking at the time.

“You need to go too, Y/L/N!” Nat screamed into your ear piece., “Please, Wanda will never forgive me if you blow up right now! I will never forgive you!”

You pulled off the agent’s duct tape, “Hey! I need you to take a breath for me!” you rushed out, trying to get his attention, “Do you know how to stop this thing?” He shook his head frantically.

20 seconds.

“Alright, well I’m going to get this off of you and we’re going to get out of here together!” you quickly tried to untie the ropes that surrounded his wrists, mentally cursing yourself for not bringing a weapon other than your webs. Your side became more and more painful, but you needed to get both of you out of here.

15 seconds.

You frantically start to rip off all the duct tape that strapped the bomb to his clothing, “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon!” you muttered to yourself over and over again.

“Y/N! I’m coming to you! Where are you?!” Nat’s insistent screaming in your ear piece only causes your heart to race more. You rip the bomb off of him and he exhales out a sigh of relief, as he stands up next to you, but immediately falls onto the ground.

You didn’t even notice the way his legs are bruised and broken, most likely from all the torture he endured from HYDRA. You wrap his arm around your shoulders, lifting him up with all the strength you can.

10 seconds.

In the corner of your eye, you notice how fast the clock was trying to tick down. The pressure of him leaning against your little wound caused you to hiss out in pain. You scramble towards the hallway, desperate to try and get out of this side of the warehouse. Your vision slowly became more blurry, yet the sight of your own blood staining your torn suit was so vivid.

4 seconds.

You hadn’t been able to get very far, even though it felt like you were miles away from the secluded corner. You had barely made it out of the room it was trapped in. It was as if a lightbulb went off in your head, and you stopped in your tracks. “What are you doing?!” your fellow agent yells at you, “Why are we stopping?!”

“There’s no way we can escape the bomb in time, but I can try and limit the explosion,” you tell him, trying to explain as calmly as possible.

You turn your bodies around, extending your wrists toward the bomb in the corner. You shoot your web…but nothing comes out. You flick your wrist again and again and again. Each time growing more frantic.

“You’re joking!” you exclaimed.

3 seconds.

“What?! What’s going on?!” the agent yelled.

You shook your head, “Forget that idea! We need to leave now!”

The two of you turned back around and you tried to run towards the end of the hallway as fast as you could. Ignoring the burning pain in your side and the weight of his body against yours. But it was too late.

It was the loudest thing you had ever heard. The echoing boom rang in your ears, as you collapsed onto the other side of the warehouse, as debris started falling all around you. Everything felt too bright as a hot stinging pain ripped through your whole body. You tried to get up, but felt a sharp sting in your leg. A piece of rubble that was on fire rested on the top of your leg, too heavy to move it out. Your eyes fluttered open and closed, slowly becoming heavier and heavier. A thick liquid pooled from underneath you. Nat’s red hair came into your blurry view.

Nat let out a soft gasp as she noticed how part of your face was burnt, “Hey Y/N, come on keep your eyes open for me, okay? The ambulance and the fire department are here. They’re gonna get you out of here,” she whispered, brushing your hair out of your face. But her rare soft voice did the exact opposite as it made your eyes grow heavier and heavier.

When the firemen got you out of there, you were hardly alive. Your breathing could barely be seen or felt, your throat and lungs burnt that you could barely inhale any air. Your heartbeat was irregular and often skipped. Your spandex suit was burned into your flesh and it was surprising that you could even be recognized by how severe some of your burns are.

Honestly, it was a miracle that you were still alive. Something the paramedics and firemen could barely understand.

Nat could barely look at you, she tried her hardest to stay strong, but an overwhelming sense of fear seeped into her bloodstream. While the paramedics struggled to keep you stable on the helicopter, Nat let tears fall onto her lap, looking out at the view. Only looking at you when a deafening beeping sound could be heard, right before you landed.

Your heart stopped beating.

Wanda’s knee bounced up and down all throughout the flight in the quinjet. Natasha hasn’t been giving them updates, there wasn’t much to give after she called you.

They managed to stabilize you, but it was all about if you were going to survive the night. Joining the Avengers came with loads of paperwork. One of them being, what would you want if you had extreme injuries. Basically a DNR form. You were indecisive, so you wrote out what you wanted. If something were to happen to you, you give the doctors 24 hours to do all they could, and if it didn’t work, well that’s when you call it quits.

SHIELD actually follows it very well, like the agent you saved? He wanted them to do everything they could to keep him alive. Everything. He did not want them to stop trying. So, after the doctors managed to stabilize you, they tried to take you off the ventilator to see if you would breathe on your own, but you crashed. You couldn’t do it. That’s when the countdown began, if they couldn’t get you off and breathing by yourself in 12 hours, per your request you want them to pull it.

A muffled sob escaped Wanda’s lips as she thought more about it. In 12 hours, she could lose the love of her life and the last time she saw her ended poorly.

Wanda takes the elevator up to the tower. Her breath smelling slightly of alcohol from her spontaneous night out with Vision. The two have been on mission after mission lately, so Vision thought it would be nice to have a break. She was going to go straight to her room, but she figured it would be best to get an Advil and water in her before she regretted the drinks in the morning. The elevator dinged and she stumbled through it and to the kitchen, where she found you. You were sitting in the darkness, the only light coming from the moon through the window sill. A couple plates of food sat in front of you as you sipped slowly on a glass of wine.

“Love? What are you doing? It’s late,” Wanda asked, snaking her hands around your neck from behind. She flinched back as you stood up, looking at her with a hard glare that she has never been on the receiving end of, “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“Last week, you promised that we would have a date night for my birthday. You and I have been so busy with missions and training, so when you didn’t show, I just assumed that you were running late with training. Then hours ticked by, and our teammates would come in and look at me with such sympathetic eyes because they knew how much this meant to me because that was all I would talk about for the last week. Peter even came by with a cake and sad eyes because he heard about what happened,” you ranted to her and Wanda looked to the ground in shame. “Yesterday was my birthday Wanda. Yet, you go out with Vision! Of all fucking people! You didn’t wish me a happy birthday, you didn’t kiss me, you didn’t see me all day! All because you were with Vision! And we all know how much you love his attention!”

The words fell from your mouth before you could even think about what you were saying, Wanda’s shame quickly turned to defensiveness as she stared at your tear stained cheeks, “I may have forgotten your birthday and I’m sorry, but is this really about forgetting your birthday or is this about Vision? It’s like you’re jealous or something!”

“Yes, I’m jealous Wanda! And I have every right to be! You and Vision have some sort of connection because of a fucking stone implanted into his head!” You scream.

She shook her head, “He’s my friend, Y/N! Am I not allowed to have friends?”

“I never fucking said that you can’t have friends! Jesus Wanda do you hear yourself?” you bring your voice down to a softer tone, realizing that a screaming match isn’t gonna help fix this, “You forgot my birthday…the Wanda I fell in love with would have never done that. I don’t ask much of you. I just want to spend a couple days with my girlfriend and for her to remember my birthday. All I wanted was a kiss from her and for her to tell me that she loves me, yet you haven’t said that to me a lot recently. Look, I’m going on a mission with Nat in a couple hours. While I’m gone, I guess just think if you really want to be with me still.”

And you walked away without another word.

Of course, Wanda loved you. It was just the fear of the unknown that has made her put a wall up between the two of you. Everything and everyone she has loved, she has lost. Her parents, Pietro, it was only a matter of time before she lost you too. She doesn’t know what she’d do if she loses you.

Wanda bursts into the waiting room, met by several confused eyes from the staff and patients. Steve and Clint followed right behind her, the two of them more rational than she was. They ask for your room number and as soon as she hears the answer she sprints down the hallways and straight to your room.

Natasha sat in the corner of the cold room, watching distantly, like she was off on another planet. She didn’t even notice the Sokovian bursting in. Wanda’s eyes flash to you, your frail body lying in bed. All the color was drained from your face and a burn lingered along your cheeks. She inspected you further, noticing the burns that lingered all over your body. The beeping from the machines echoes in her ears as a wave of nausea overcomes her at the sight of a tube stuck in your throat. All she wants is to hold you, but she’s afraid that if she does you’ll crumble.

She took a seat next to you carefully reaching for your hand. She wanted to tell you that she loved you, that she needed you, and that she was sorry, “Hey Wanda,” Nat finally came to her senses, noticing her teammate sitting next to you.

“I didn’t know it was this bad,” her voice cracked, as hot tears blurred her vision.

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t-“ Nat took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. “I couldn’t find her in time. I was trying to find her, to help her save the other SHIELD agent, but before I could, the bomb went off and she…I’m so sorry Wanda. I should’ve protected her. I couldn’t protect her.”

Wanda reaches for her hand, squeezing it, “It’s okay, Nat. You couldn’t have known,” Clint and Steve finally burst into the room. Clint immediately goes over to console his best friend, while Wanda turns her attention back onto you.

The doctor knocks on the door, giving all of you sympathetic smiles, “Hello everyone. Agent Y/L/N is in very critical condition. The injuries she endured have taken an enormous toll on her mental and physical health. It’s an absolute miracle that we were able to stabilize her. However, the burns and the stab wound are the least of our worries. The smoke inhalation caused her vocal chords to swell which may cause some permanent damage, but we had to do a tracheotomy to help her breathe.”

Wanda’s heart stopped, the reality and severity finally catching up to her. All of the things she dreamed of doing with you. The life you wanted to share with her. Another wave of nausea hit her like a freight train, “And per Agent Y/L/N’s paperwork with SHIELD, later tonight we’re going to try and see if she could breathe on her own and if not, she has asked us to pull the plug. If there’s anyone who’s not here, who you guys think would love to see her, I suggest calling them now,” he clears his throat, trying to stay professional. “I recommend trying to talk to her, coma induced patients tend to be more responsive when they hear their loved ones.”

With that, he leaves the room, a tense air filling the room once more. Steve clears his throat, ignoring the tears trying to swim in his ocean eyes, “I’m going to make some calls and ask if anyone would like to see Y/N. Tony will get them here as soon as possible.”

And just like that Avengers started swarming in like wildfire. Clint called Laura and brought the kids along with her, whenever Clint and Laura needed a date night you’d be there to help babysit the kids. So, to say you were an important part of the family was an understatement.

Tony and Pepper showed up with Peter. Tony and Bruce tried to talk to the doctor as much as they could, asking a million questions about what they’ve tried and what they haven’t tried to help your condition. Thor and Valkyrie even showed up from Asgard, just in case this was the last time they’d see you.

Wanda took a step back, allowing everyone who came to visit you to talk to you, to possibly say their goodbyes. She couldn’t bring herself to talk to you just yet. She watched as some people weren’t afraid to shed a tear, retelling some of their favorite memories with you. While others tried their best to stay strong, demanding you that you’d breathe on your own.

She watched as your room piled up with flowers in the worst way possible. Peter even brings you a small stuffed spider he got at the zoo. Her breathing became more uneven as she watched a usually strong Yelena shed a few tears for her chosen sister, Kate and Natasha, even having to console the younger Russian.

Wanda needed an out, she needed to get some air. Luckily, Bucky came around, “C’mon, let’s go for a walk. I think you need it.” The witch didn’t even hesitate as she just followed him through the door and out of the hospital. As soon as the cool air hit her face, she ran as quickly as she could to the nearby bush and started to empty whatever she had in her stomach.

Wiping the corner of her mouth, she sat next to Bucky on a nearby bench. Neither of them said anything and honestly it's what Wanda really needed. All Bucky did was rest his hand on her shoulder, giving it a tight squeeze, before they sat and watched the cars zoom by.

They didn’t know how much time had passed before someone cleared their throat behind them. Steve had a sympathetic smile on his face, “Wanda, it’s almost time doctor said. If you wanna say something to her, now is the time.” Wanda turned to Bucky and he merely nodded in encouragement.

The Sokovian followed back to your room. Everyone must’ve gotten the message that Wanda was coming back, so they were all waiting in the waiting room when she walked in. She took the seat next to your bed, grasping your unusually cold hand.

“Y/N…” she trails off her voice immediately cracking, “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry for everything. I should’ve remembered your birthday. If you wake up, I promise I’ll remember everything. I’ll remember your beautiful eyes looking into mine, like we have our own secret club. I’ll remember the way you turn up the music on the weekend when I’m trying to sleep in and the way you’d jump on the bed and dance to wake me up. I’ll remember the way you’d squeeze my hand three times whenever you realize how anxious I’m getting or to just tell me that you love me.”

Her emerald eyes met the sea as tears filled them. She cupped your cold cheeks, smiling sadly, “I should’ve been honest with you and I should’ve just told you I was scared. I was scared to fall and lose you. But that does not beat how petrified I feel right now, Y/N. I prayed, Y/N. I never pray, I prayed to a God I stopped believing in when my parents were killed. I’m not saying goodbye to you, just yet. I just need you to know that no one else could ever save me, like you did. Not Vision. Not anyone else. You. You saved me and I can’t do this on my own. So, breathe Y/N. Please. You’re my lifeline.”

Yet another knock interrupted her thoughts as the doctor walked in. He smiled sympathetically with Steve, Clint, and Natasha right behind him. “It’s time,” he walks over to your bedside, throwing on gloves as he gets ready for extubation, “Just to explain what we’re looking for, if she can breathe on her own her breathing will look like she’s just sleeping. If her oxygen levels are normal, it means she’s okay. On the other hand, if she isn’t breathing on her own, she’d be gasping for air, and her mouth will be opening and closing like a fish out of water. Her oxygen levels will also be very low.”

All four of them nod, Nat grasping on to Wanda’s free hand, squeezing it tightly. The doctor slowly starts pulling out the tube and Wanda squeezes your hand three times, muttering a quiet please under her breath. All of them hold their own breath, which is ironic. Each one of them watches your chest rise and fall in anticipation.

For what felt like an eternity, the Sokovian felt a weak three squeezes come from your hand, causing her head to shoot up to look at your face. Your eyes flutter open as you stare into the eyes of the love of your life, “You made it,” she whispered under her breath and a tiny smile crossed your lips as you ran your thumb over the back of her hand.

“Hi Y/N. It’s nice to finally meet you,” your doctor introduced himself. “We’re gonna recommend you can’t talk until directed to. We’re working on reducing the swelling in your vocal chords.”

You gesture for a pen and paper, your hands shaking slightly. He nodded, handing you a pen and a piece of paper before promising to check up on you later. In the scratchiest of handwriting, Wanda watched as you wrote a little note. A small gasp leaving her lips as you showed her, ‘You’re my lifeline too.’

Wanda rested her hand against your stomach as she cried happily into it. Your free hand that she wasn’t grasping reached for her head, running your fingers through her messy hair, in hopes to let her know that everything will be okay.

“I love you,” Wanda whispered to you.

And all you did was squeeze your hand three times.

#wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff imagines #a mediocre 2k party

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sodamnradd · 1 year ago

Text

Hermione Granger was going to die on his operating table.

Fuck.

Draco paced the room and tried to ignore the ghostly girl lying unconscious a few feet away.

Potter was the only person keeping Draco here and, if Granger died under his care, it was all over. The Order would blame him for her death.

“What am I meant to do with you now?” he mumbled, glaring at his patient.

He touched Granger’s pulse and felt it fading. Her skin was cold and clammy. Even her hair seemed deflated, giving up the good fight.

There was no other way.

“Don’t worry,” he murmured, feeling a flash of remorse for the fate he was bestowing on her. “I’ll make sure you don’t fall in love with me.”

The Order promoted Draco to main headquarters. He had his own room and went to bed with a full stomach every night. Sometimes, there was even beer.

But Draco would have slept in moth infested sheets again and eaten stale cereal for dinner every night if it meant staying away from her.

After her miraculous recovery, Granger visited him in the medical wing. Often.

The first time to thank him for saving her life. The second to borrow a book she spotted on his desk, swapping it for one of her own. The third to return his book and tell him about all the ways it had pissed her off. Before he knew it, she’d cajoled Draco into a war-time book club, reading all the books Granger bartered off other Order members.

She started confiding in him about odd things that were happening to her.

“It’s not my problem,” he cut her off, popping open his collar as the room grew three notches too hot.

“But you’re my healer.”

“I’m not your healer. I’m just a healer. A reluctant one. Your idiot friends won’t let me do much else.”

“Help me find out what’s wrong with me, and I’ll have them reassign you.”

“No.”

She was insufferably stubborn.

“See how I did that?” she asked one afternoon, squashing a fly with her palm and resuscitating it seconds later. “That’s odd.”

“That’s magic.” He feigned disinterest, swatting the irritating fly. “Couldn’t you have let it die?” Sometimes Draco wished he had.

“It’s like holding sand in my hands. I have a handful of seconds to decide whether to preserve its life or let it trickle out—Are you even listening to me?”

“I’m counting inventory.”

“Stuff your blasted inventory. This is serious!”

He made her concerns seem trivial, shooing her off and demanding she mind his office hours.

Yet she always came back, always wanted to hear his expert opinion on why Dark Magic was so easy now, why she was quicker than Harry at casting off Dementors, why she didn’t need her wand to perform magic anymore.

One evening she visited him, devastated. “Tell me why I can’t stand letting anyone touch me.”

Red mist filled Draco’s vision, noting her rumpled figure. The state of Granger’s hair was an old joke by now, but he could tell someone’s fingers had been raking through it. Her shirt was misbuttoned. She looked messy and fierce and unbearably debauched.

“It certainly looks like someone tried,” he mumbled, trying to choke down the emotion that rocked through his chest.

“Tell me, Malfoy.”

“How am I supposed to know?”

“Because you’re all I think about!” she exploded. Her face went crimson.

She cleared her throat. “I know my own body. You did something to me that night, didn’t you? When I was injured.”

She stormed forwards, poking him in the chest. “What did you do?”

He snatched her fingers in his fist. It was like he was pure whisky, and she an Incendio spell, set astray. “Fuck.” He dropped her hand at once.

Granger leapt away too, gasping. “Did that just…?”

“You almost died,” he said, physically restraining himself from reaching for her again. “I didn’t have a choice.”

“Malfoy?” Her voice was little more than a croak, her eyes too wide and innocent. Looking at him like-like—

He had to look away. “I split my magical core and gave you half.”

“Like a Horcrux?”

“It wasn’t my soul. But magic is binding in its own way.”

“What do you mean binding?”

“As in, you can tap into it now. It’s yours.”

“So I have my own magic and half of yours?”

He shrugged.

Granger’s mouth fell agape. “How do I return it to you?”

“It’s irrevocable.”

Realisation dawned on her face. “So, all of this,” she wagged a finger between them, “is because of your spell?”

“There’s no ‘this’.” He repeated the gesture. “It’s you and it’s me. Separate.”

She shook her head. “Don’t lie.”

“I’m not—”

“You looked like you wanted to commit murder when I walked in just then.”

He shifted his gaze, jaw clenching. “My magic recognizes itself in you. It’s… possessive.”

“And mine recognizes you,” she concluded. “It doesn’t like me being with anyone else. You knew this would happen?”

“Should I have let you die instead?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted, and Draco tried not to wince. “Is this it, then? We’re bound to each other for the rest of our lives?”

He couldn’t stand looking at her anymore. Remorsefully, he replied, “This is it.”

(883 words, prompt: soulmates from @dhrmonth)

#sodamnrad #dramione #draco malfoy #hermione granger #draco x hermione #hermione x draco #dhr #dramione drabble #drabble #sodamnraddrabbles

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tourettesdog · 2 years ago

Text

DPxDC Dog Prompts

Here’s my collection of DPxDC prompts I’ve made, collected together!

Most of them lean towards Gotham/Batpham content, since that is where my own interests with the crossover are most prominent.

A lot of these prompts have had continuations and fics added in the notes! If you like one, I’d recommend checking to see if anyone’s done more with it.

I might reorganize these some other time, perhaps by length/type of prompt, etc, but for now it’s just roughly in order of when they were posted.

If any links are broken, tell me and I’ll see about finding the link!

Adopting a ghost (just a ghost, right?)

Oops yeah Vlad’s sus

We forgot the clone detail

Let’s try that summon again

Please let me help you’re gross

An electric core

You summoned me so I’m your problem

Halfa (not that he noticed)

Dani and Haly’s Circus

Batman’s a ghost, right?

An anchor to the Zone

Accidentally raising Batman’s son

Stuck in Gotham, losing even more

John Constantine’s accidental trip

A sick trail

Too spooky no thanks

Blood Blossoms across Gotham

Trying to sneeze a way home

Accidental twin(?) acquisition

My dog now

Old friends, unfortunate connections

Dinner interrupted

That dog’s green for another reason

Summoning a guardian instead

Danny isn’t what he expected

An uncomfortable heir

Apex predator Gotham

A girlfriend with a haunting past

Cleansing music

The forgotten queen

At the center of it all

Plans sidelined for a few ghosts

Amity stuck in the past

A dynasty built on ghosts

A haunting joke

A little to the left

Walker hates jokes

Vampiric wards?

Jack and Janet Drake go for a dig

Swapping ghosts for folks

Trapped for too long

Jason Todd: a bad anniversary

Taking care of a severed soulmate

Tim Drake has a portal accident

Disabled Dani

Technus hacks for a good cause

Freakshow picks up a stray Jay

Trying to save yourself without knowing it

Beast Boy’s a little bit spooky

The Fenton and Drake feud

A ghostly Batman

Johnny and Kitty from Gotham

Wtf just happened to the Earth?

Hood and the Holiday Truce

A Little Baby Man infestation

Jason, silent since the grave

A tomb like a cocoon

Deaged: there the whole time

Red Hood, ghostly beneath the helmet

When vigilantes ruin your disappearing act

Ghostly soul marks

Summonings and sharing exes

The call of a ghostly stone

An ill-advised cat burglary

Clockwork might not have been the best choice

Val moves to Gotham

Summoned in his stead

Damian gets to pick for once

A concerning return to AO3

The side effects of cleansing a core

Killed and saved by a joke

Red Hood gets souped

Gotham wants Jason back in his grave

A friendly ghost Robin goes missing

Wes needs to learn to shutup

Corrupted vs pure ectoplasm: FIGHT

Demon twins: an unfortunate “corpse” discovery

Demon twins: menace of Gotham

Ivy and Harley in Amity

Occult shop in Gotham

John gets pawned

Demon twins: Sam in the know (derogatory)

Crown too big for he gotdamn head

Little Baby Man after king fight

#dpxdc #dpxdc prompts #dogprompts #batpham

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snwusberry · 8 months ago

Text

pairing: wooyoung x black!reader

genre: fluff

warning(s): communication issues (please don't hate me), drinking, mention of a messy past relationship, food/eating.

wc: 5.7k

note: this shit took me literal months to finish writing, like no kidding. the wooyoung brainrot was so real though so here it is.

reader's pov

02/10/2023

"easy now, wouldn't wanna burn holes into the board with how hard you're staring." i hear a comment at my obvious indecisiveness and i look up at the insanely handsome cashier in front of me.

"huh?" i ask and he smiles. he has an absolutely gorgeous smile, might i add.

"you've been standing here, staring at the board for quite a bit." i tell him.

"oh, my apologies."

"oh no need to apologize, i was just pulling your leg. let me know once you've decided."

i hum for a bit and i take a moment to take in his features quickly. he's got sharp but gentle facial features, if that makes any sense. he has a mole on his cheek and on his bottom lip which just adds on to his attractiveness.

"actually, what would you suggest i get?" i requests and he smiles.

"well the best sellers from our seasonal menu are the pumpkin pie latte, the ginger-cinnamon rooibos tea, and the cinnamon chai latte."

"i'll get..." i trail off and mentally curse myself for my indecisiveness. from now on i'm googling menus.

"you could always choose one and come back and try the others." wooyoung tells me which breaks me away from my train of thought.

"only if i enjoy this one though."

"of course."

"well then for today, i'll have one regular pumpkin pie latte."

"sit in or to go?" he asks, tapping away on the screen in front of him.

okay weigh out your options girl. if i sit in, i get to look all cute and mysterious in front of the extremely handsome cashier but if i go, i can be even more cute and mysterious, completely out of sight. that's a good idea. if i stay, i'll probably embarrass myself anyway.

"hello?"

"to go. sorry" i tell him and he smiles.

"alright." he says more to himself and he hands me a slip woth my order number. "here you go. they're busy with your order at the back, it'll be done shortly."

"thank you."

i go sit nearby the front counter so i can hear my order number when another customer walks in. a girl, probably around my age and i watch his interaction with her. very similar to how he was with me and i immediately snap out of this daydream world i let myself wander into. i need to focus on other things because i do not need a man to throw me off my loop. much less one i don't know.

he calls my order number though and i stand up to go get it.

"enjoy your drink. hope to see you come back." he tells he with a wink. stand up.

"thank you and that is to be decided." i reply which causes a brief chuckle from him.

17/10/2023

is it too late to turn around? i'm quite literally at the door of the café where that extremely attractive man works.

'come on girl, you saw him flirting with another girl, don't let yourself think you're special.'

yeah, i'd rather bellyflop into crocodile infested waters before allowing myself to even let a man have me by the throat like this, there's more to life. even if he's hot and has a nice smile and enchanting eyes...

just as i feel myself turn around i make direct eye contact with him through the glass of the door. now i could either leave and never come by here again, or go in.

'yeah i'll leave.'

i try to turn around when i bump into someone else who's trying to get in which leaves me with no choice but to go in. i mean, logically speaking, i very well could've gotten out of the way and fucked off back home but i didn't really think of that until i felt myself walking towards the counter, letting the man go before me.

as he orders, i stand behind him, fighting the urge to chew my nails right off. i can still leave, honestly...

"hello, what would you like to order?" his smooth voice cuts through the thoughts in my head.

"huh?"

dumbass

"would you like to order anything?" he asks again.

theres a very good chance he doesn't even remember me so, you know what? i should be fine.

"may i please have the ginger-cinnamon rooibos tea please?"

"sit in or to go?"

"sit in." i answer without even thinking about it which is yet another dumbass decision.

"alright, they're working on your order. you can grab a number and it'll be right with you." he instructs and i nod as i'm about to get an order number. "i take that you enjoyed your drink last time."

"hmm?"

"if i recall correctly, you said you'd be back provided that you enjoy your drink, the pumpkin pie latte. how was it?"

okay pause and let me regroup because my ability to think clearly was gone the moment i thought of coming back here. the latte was good though.

"oh... yeah it was delicious."

"i'm glad you liked it. it took a bit of convincing to even get them to add a seasonal menu."

"this whole thing was your doing?" i ask him and he nods

"yeah. they haven't had one since the last manager left long before i started working here."

"when did you start working here?"

"about 2 years ago, i believe. uh... do you live around this area?"

"yeah. i actually work at the call center not too far from here."

"oh? how come i've never seen you around?"

"i could say the same to you, uh..." i look a little closer at his nametag.

"wooyoung. my name is wooyoung." he tells me with a smile.

"i'm y/n."

"i'll keep that in mind." i smile at him and he obviously returns it.

☆★��

my best friend squeals like a little baby raccoon at my little "confession". that being that i found interest in someone which hasn't happened since my last breakup about a year ago.

she always said, "heal from what? girl you ain't injured, onto the next!!" nevermind the fact that i put my all into a, seemingly, one-sided relationship.

"okay okay, tell me more."

"sarah, i only seen and spoke to him twice. finding interest in someone doesn't mean i'm trying to get emotionally involved with them. i know nothing about this guy.

" yeah but you said it felt like he was flirting with you." she pushes but i shake my head at her.

"yeah and i also said he probably flirts with other customers, maybe that's just how he is."

"okay since you don't wanna be 'emotionally involved' as you say, just fuck him and let off some steam. lord knows you need it."

"immediately no! you know how that shit ends sarah, it always ends in tears and i'm simply not willing to risk it. sorry to disappoint chief."

"but life is about taking risks"

"i'm not gonna sleep with him sarah. what if hes already tied down, first of all and secondly, i've had enough emotional distress this past year. i wanna focus on myself."

03/11/2023

focus on myself was the biggest bullshit i've told myself because what the actual fuck am i doing here again?

i sigh, walking to the café yet again. i've come here another, like seven times since the last time and engaged in a small conversation with the handsome cashier each time. he's got this thing about him that makes me so drawn to him and i know it's probably the dumbest thing i'm letting myself do, especially since i quite literally barely know this guy, but i'm already in too deep to try and get myself out.

"someone's here later than usual." wooyoung says upon my arrival to the counter.

"it's been a long ass day, i don't even wanna talk about it."

"alright, then we won't. rooibos tea?" he asks and i nod. talk about paying attention to detail.

"may i also have a lemon blueberry cheesecake slice please?" i ask and he smiles with a nod.

"sit in or takeout?"

"sit in." i confirm with him and he nods and prints out the slip.

"you know the drill." he smirks which i quickly look away frok for my own sanity.

"thank you." say and i turn to walk to the table.

"hey uh, y/n."

"hmm?"

"i'm actually clocking off in a bit but i need to get something for someone and i kinda need a second opinion on it so would you like to help me out?" he requests but unlike his usual confident behavior, he seems to be a bit nervous.

i smile at him before answering, "sure, why not."

"thank you, i appreciate it."

"no problem."

☆★☆

wooyoung and i walk side by side in the little shopping center nearby and i'm not gonna lie, it's a bit awkward. i'm willing to thug it out though.

"so what are we getting and who for?" i ask him and he hums.

"it's almost my friend's birthday and i wanted to get him something but i'm kinda bad at things like this so i needed a second opinion." he explains and i nod.

"so what's he like?"

"hmm?"

"your friend. what is he like? what does he like?"

he stops in his tracks to think a little which makes me stop too.

"well he's really reliable..." he says, his words trailing off.

"so insightful."

"well he's really into fashion. he experiments and all that cool stuff with his clothes."

"does he sew?" i ask him and he hims before shaking his head. "alright. uhh... make him something."

"do i look like i do arts and crafts?" he asks me with a finger pointed to himself.

"yes?"

"i'm sorry." he apologizes but o shake my head.

"don't worry about it. let's get him his gift." i reassure him and he nods cautiously.

we walk around the shopping center trying to think of something to get for this mystery man and i'm not gonna lie, it's difficult. it's already hard to think of a gift for someone you know, how do you think shopping for a stranger would be any easier?

the part i am enjoying though is spending time and getting to know wooyoung. he's really great company so being around him feels refreshing compared to being around the same 3 people who don't really give a fuck about what i do with my life, other than my best friend, of course, but life got so busy for both of us that we can't just make plans to meet up all willy nilly.

"hey, his birthday party is actually next friday, you should come by." he says to me as we're walking and i stop in my tracks.

"is that a good idea? i don't wanna like, intrude or anything."

"nonsense, i'll tell him you're with me. it's an open invite so..." he trails off and i sigh.

i've been dying to go out and have fun anyway, and meeting new people has never been an issue for me so why the hell not?

"okay fine. but if he looks even the slightest bit uncomfortable with me being there i'm going straight home." i tell him sternly which he smiles at.

"okay deal."

"the party starts at 7pm."

We reach the bus stop where there's a bus approaching in the distance.

"here take my number my number in case you need someone to pick you up for the party." he suggests and i nod, giving him my phone to write down and save his number. "don't hesitate to call."

"got it. thanks." i reply to him and get into the bus and i look at my phone and see what he saved his number as.

'woo 🔥🫦'

he cannot be serious.

all i can say to sum today up is, it was refreshing.

☆★☆

"HE ASKED YOU TO WHAT?!!!" sarah exclaims.

"calm down. he literally just invited me to a party."

"his friend's birthday party! you're locked in already." she says with emphasis on 'friend'. "do you think he invites every customer to his friends' birthday parties?"

"i don't know maybe?"

"babe, you built your walls so high that you can't even see over them. he's interested in you."

"i don't know..."

"i say go. at least let yourself have fun."

"fine." i say, finally giving in, i mean, it's just a party if we really think about it.

10/11/2023

i hesitantly click on call and the dial tone rings loud in my ear as i wait for him to pick up. maybe i should just hang up and just stay home in the comfort of my bed tonight.

"hello?"

too damn late.

"hi, wooyoung? oh, uh this is y/n from the café. you said to call if i need a way to get to the party."

"y/n, hi. i thought i came in too strong that day, you didn't stop by."

"sorry about that. i was just a bit busy, that's all."

LIE!

"that's good to know. uh, just tell me where to pick you up and i'll be there."

"the bus stop we went to last week."

"okay i'll be there in a bit."

"thank you." he hangs up and i sigh into tge cold air, looking down at my outfit. i hope i'm not overdressed... and i hope he likes the gift i got. it's just a necklace because i genuinely don't know what to get for him and i didn't wanna go empty handed.

surely enough though, wooyoung pulls up in a white car and he opens the passenger's window.

"you coming in or what?" he jokingly asks with a smirk on his ridiculously handsome face and i scoff before entering.

"nice ride." i say, looking around the interior the car and then i turn to look at him.

"thanks, it's yunho's." he admits and i nod. i don't even know who that is but sure. "oh he's another friend of mine, you'll meet all of them today, don't worry about it."

"i'm excited." i beam, turning the volume of the radio up when i hear mamacita by chase atlantic playing and start dancing in ny seat, singing along to the song just overall vibing. "come on wooyoung sing!" i exclaim over the loud music and he sings along with a wide smile on his face.

☆★☆

we get out of the car at a club and wooyoung gets something in the car while i walk ahead and wanter off to the entrance without him but the bouncer blocks the way.

"sorry, were closed for tonight. invite only." he says and i stand there not knowing what to do.

"don't worry, she's with me." wooyoung's smooth voice says behind me and i look back at him and take in his entire appearance. he's wearing a black and white patterned shirt which isn't buttoned all the way, showing off his chest with black jeans and black boots and his hair is pulled back by a pair of sunglasses on top of his head.

he looks too good.

"my apologies." the bounced says and opens the door for us to enter.

"look at you, cool guy. 'she's with me.'" i imitate his voice and he rolls his eyes. "you guys rented this place out?"

"yeah, just the vip area. it's one of those nights where we act like we have more money than we actually do." he jokes and i laugh. "here we are."

he opens the door and let's me walk in before him. the lights immediately draw me in and the music hits my bones but i fight the urge to start dancing since i'm yet to meet everyone here.

"come with me to meet the others." he leads me to the upstairs area where there's a red-haired man talking to someone. i'm rendered speechless at how absolutely gorgeous he is.

"joong, i'd like you to meet someone." wooyoung announces, getting their attention. "uh, this is y/n. i mentioned inviting a plus one for tonight."

"hi guys." i greet with a wave.

"you're the one wooyoung begged me to invite." a man with red hair says stepping forward and i nod.

"yeah that would be me. it's nice to meet you."

"nice to meet you too. i'm hongjoong."

"belated happy birthday hongjoong. i hope you like this." i say and hand him the small gift bag i've been holding.

"you didn't have have to bring a gift. thank you." he smiles, taking the bag. "thanks for making it tonight. please enjoy your night."

"thank you."

wooyoung and walk to a group of people who are sitting around a table and chatting it up.

"hi guys."

"woo, you're back." a really tall, insanely handsome, pink haired man yells over the music and his eyes fall on me for a second. "and who might you be?"

"i'm y/n." i respond, stretching my hand out.

"i'm mingi." he smirks, taking my hand for a handshake.

"this is yeosang, those ones over there are san and his girlfriend ari, jongho went to get drinks with seonghwa and that's yunho and his girlfriend, rissa. guys this is y/n." wooyoung cuts between mingi and i to introduce me to everyone else.

"nice to meet you guys."

"you too. care to join us?" ari asks, holding up a shot glass with some clear liquid.

"now we're talking." i breathe out and make my way to the small circle consisting of san, ari and yeosang.

ari hands me a shot glass and pours me some vodka. i take the shot, letting the liquid burn down my throat and i cringe at the bitter taste.

"so what do you do?" san asks, leaning into ari a bit more.

"i'm a call center representative." i respond to her while putting ghe glass down on the table in front of us. "it's really boring though."

"i could never be one, honestly." ari sighs out and i nod in agreement.

"i've been damn near quitting so many times. what do you guys do?" i ask back, trying to keep the conversation going.

"well i just got laid off work at an accounting firm and san and yeosang work together as personal trainers at the gym nearby."

"more like you got fired." san comments and the girl looks at him with a deadpan expression.

two other men return with bottles in hand who im guessing are jongho and seonghwa. now does wooyoung only associate himself with good looking people? because everyone i've met today is insanely hot.

hongjoong returns from wherever he wad and that's when i hear my song boom through the speakers which immediately gets me on my feet. i've spent a good hour mingling with everyone, getting to know them. it's time to shake some ass.

the alcohol is very well in our systems and i feel rissa grab one of my hands and pulls me up to start dancing to the song.

"come join us birthday boy!" i yell to hongjoong who's standing around with everyone else.

i was definitely over thinking coming out here tonight because i'm having so much fun with these people.

☆★☆

we partied into the early hours of the morning until we couldn't. like literally everyone is exhausted and ready to hit the sheets.

"thank you for letting me crash your party hongjoong. i had fun." i thank hongjoong who goes in for a friendly hug.

"it's not a problem. it's always great making new friends. get home safe, alright."

"i will, thanks." we hug one more time and i say my goodbyes to everyone.

"remember what i said girlie." ari yells to me and i salute to her and turn into someone, coming eye to eye with that horrendous patterned shirt that he managed to pull off.

"come on, let's get you home." he offers and i smile shyly.

"i wouldn't wanna be a bother. besides, i can make it there on my own."

"i have no doubt about that but let me earn my gentleman title here. besides, it wouldn't feel right dragging you here then leaving you to find your own way back." he insistently tells me and i fake a shocked gasp.

"not even because you wanna make sure i get home save, that you're worried about me? i'm hurt."

"and dramatic, let's go."

15/11/2023

i walk into the familiar café without a second thought this time and walk straight to the counter where wooyoung is standing but he's looking elsewhere.

"hey." he looks up and stands up straight.

"you know i'm starting to feel like you only come here when it's my shift." he teases with a smirk but i don't let my guard down one bit.

"oh please, i only come here at this time because it's when i clock off from work."

"aww no other reason? not because you like to see my handsome face?" he questions.

"no it's not that..." i trail, pretending to be in thought before i trail my eyes to him and he's looking at me unimpressed.

"just order and get out of here."

i briefly laugh at his mini outburst. just briefly.

"i'll get the usual." i tell him and he nods, taking down my order.

"and you'll sit in because no matter how much you deny it, you're obsessed with me."

"oh i'm so obsessed, i only frequent this café at this exact time just so i can sit and stare at your handsome face. is that what you wanted to hear?"

"yes, here's your order number. you know the drill."

"wooyoung, i didn't say i wanna sit in."

"you did just now. go on."

i shoot him a glare that he returns a brief sarcastic smile at. i just take the next number from the stack and go to my regular seat.

ever since hongjoong's party, my friendship with wooyoung has developed from acquaintances to actual friends. like he even sent a goodnight text the other night and i felt my heart hiccup. i thought my poor lifestyle choices were catching up to me.

"your order madam." i turn to wooyoung who's now in front of me with a tray in hand. him and i both know he's not supposed to be delivering orders so why is he not behind the counter?

"wooyoung?"

"here before the manager catches me out here." he informs me, looking over his shoulder to check if he's been caught.

"i didn't order an apple crumble though."

"it's on the house. look, i like you y/n and, i don't know, i guess this is my way of showing that. i know it's not the best way to tell you all this but can we talk after my shift?" he asks and walks back behind the counter. just in time for the customer who is just now entering. it's the same girl from all those weeks ago, if my sight is as clear as i believe it is, that is, and i feel my heart sink watching the two of them interact.

have i really let my guard down this much already? i don't know what to do...

23/11/2023

i haven't talked to wooyoung in like five days and my left eye is starting to twitch. there is really no reason for me to ghost him so suddenly, especially after things have been going so well, i mean, i'm locked in with his friends now.

i'm being stupid, and i know i am but the fear of getting my heart broken again overpowers the little bit of critical thinking i have.

"y/n, have you spoken to wooyoung? he's been a bit besides himself." rissa asks me while the movie plays ever so softly on the television. i introduced her and ari to sarah and we all decided to crash at ari and san's house and bust out some movies. only thing is, her and sarah literally passed out minutes into the first movie so it's just rissa and i.

"what do you mean?"

"yunho said he's been in his head the last couple of days."

"oh... i don't know, i haven't really noticed." i tell her quietly and she deadpans at me.

"oh really?" she asks with an unamused tone in her voice and i shrug. "what's really going on?"

"i'm scared of letting myself fall for someone because i don't wanna get my heart broken again."

she turns in her seat to face me completely and she sighs.

"it's too late for that, don't you think?" she questions and i look at her im confusion.

"what do you mean?"

"i mean that you've already fallen for him. you're distancing yourself because you already have and you don't want it to go any further."

i think to myself for a quick second...

i've found myself enjoying his company to the point where i can't wait for the next awful day at work so i can go see him at the café. i get excited when he texts and smile so wide seeing his name pop up on my screen.

fuck this i'm in too deep now.

"seen the light huh?" she asks anf i sigh frustratedly, burying my face in my hands. "you really think wooyoung would break your heart?"

"i don't know... he doesn't seem like he would, i mean, he's so sweet but i've been blindsided before."

"i understand you're scared but trust me, i've known wooyoung for a good five years now and he's never gone out of his way to hurt anyone's feelings."

"okay well who's that girl wooyoung was flirting with at the café?" i ask her and she shrugs.

"what girl?"

"there's a girl with long, ass-length, blonde hair. she's moderately short."

"no way you're intimidated by her."

"you know her?"

"if the person you're describing is who i have in mind... there aren't a lot of blondes in this area. you're probably talking about yuri."

"yuri?"

"she's like, obsessed with wooyoung. he's a really fun and charismatic man so it's easy to be swayed."

"how lovely." i sarcastically comment.

"sorry. she took everything he said as a hint and she's convinced that he wants her but he doesn't. he's just kind to her, that's all."

"and has he made it clear to her that he's uninterested?"

"many times. she says he's in denial."

"wow."

"yeah. so you have nothing to worry about. that man is probably losing sleep wondering what he did wrong for you to stop texting. in your attempt to preserve your feelings"

"i hurt his..." i finish her sentence and she nods.

"his birthday is coming up but the party is this saturday. he'd like you to come."

"i owe him an explanation."

"yes you do."

25/11/2023

the girls and i are getting ready for wooyoung's birthday party at rissa's apartment and i am stressing out, like my leg is bouncing up and down at such a high speed that it feels like my whole body is vibrating. the past two days i was trying to find the right words and put them together.

"girl this isn't an unprepared speech for school, just apologize and tell him how you feel." sarah tells me but that does not help how i'm feeling right now.

"it's not easy."

"come on. you look too hot to be sulking in the corner. i'm a hundred percent sure he's gonna wanna talk to you and hear you out." ari comments which lifts the mood a bit. i even cracked a teensy smile.

"come let's go ladies." rissa says and we file out of the house.

☆★☆

we just got here and there's already someone throwing up in a bush. this is gonna be fun.

"y/n come!" sarah pulls me with here wherever she's going.

"i need to find wooyoung."

"exactly, you need to take a shot before talking to him!"

"sober babes. i need to talk to him completely sober." she let's go of my hand.

"okay then, go look for your man, i'll be by the drinks."

"right behind you." rissa agrees, walking away with Sarah and i sigh.

"i need to go find san, wanna come with me?" ari asks and i turn to look at her. "where you find san, you find wooyoung, come."

i nod and follow her lead the way to the living room of the house where there's a bunch of people there.

"the life of the party is here!" ari announces and makes her way to san who let's her sit on his lap but there's no sign of wooyoung in here. did bro ditch his own party?

"hi everyone."

"y/n, you look stunning." mingi compliments me while walking my way. he takes my hand and makes me do a little spin.

"why thank you mingi. i guess i could say the same to you."

"hey, don't hurt me like this." he says, putting a hand on his chest on fake offense.

"you'll be alright. has anyone seen wooyoung?" i ask everyone but all i get as a response is murmurs across the room.

"check the backyard." one of the men say and a nod with a little thank you.

"okay thanks."

i make my way to the exit to the back yard where it's a bit emptier than inside. it's quieter with crickets chirping somewhere in the plants wnf a nice breeze cools down my skin. it's easier to breathe out here in comparison to the stuffy air inside but alas, there sits wooyoung on the grass with a can of beer in hand.

i can do this. i owe him an explanation after all so i go and sit right next to him which attracts his attention but his blank expression doesn't leave his face upon seeing me.

"hi." i greet him to break the ice but the tension between us is palpable. i clear my throat before attempting to speak again. "wooyoung, can we talk? please, i'm not here to defend myself..."

all he does is silently take a sip from his can and i let out a breath. this is gonna be difficult.

"wooyoung."

"you know, you could've at least told me you weren't interested instead of making me fall for you and look stupid for it." his words cut deep that i don't think i can even come up with any words to say to him.

"i was wrong, i know, and i'm really sorry for that. it was unfair of me to do that to you, you didn't deserve that and i feel horrible for what i did." i apologetically tell him but my eyes are glued to the grass patch in front of us.

"can you at least tell me why?"

"i'm a coward. running seemed easier than letting myself fall for you. i didn't have the best relationship with my ex and our breakup wasn't pretty either, i was in shambles and left to pick up the pieces and put them back and i thought i had finally done that, but clearly i left some of them behind." i explain to him scoffing at my own words at the end. "i saw you talking with a girl i thought you were flirting with and i put all my defenses back up and ended up doing to you what i was scared would happen to me."

"please, she's been annoying me for years now. i've never been interested in her and i've made that clear, i wouldn't flirt with her if i've been trying to get her off my arm. i like you, y/n. let me be there for you. there's no point in restricting your feelings like this. let yourself fall, i'll catch you."

"will you catch my baggage too?" i question and he shifts so that he's sitting in front of me.

"i'll carry it for you y/n."

"wooyoung i like you too and i won't lie and say i haven't imagined us together a couple of times. i'm willing to let my walls down for you if you're still willing to be in my life like that."

"yes, i'll be your boyfriend." he says confidently and i shake my head in disapproval

"i didn't even ask though."

"okay then ask because i'm getting impatient." i laugh at his excitement.

"will you be my boyfriend?" i finally ask him and he puts a hand over his mouth with a gasp all dramatic like a little schoolgirl who's crush liked her picture on instagram.

"yes, i'd love to be your boyfriend." he beams and i smile back at him.

"oh and before i forget. i got you this. it's not much but it's from my heart." i tell him, handing him the gift i got for him.

"what's this?" he asks, taking the small box in his hands.

"open it." i tell him nervously and he does just that and he takes the metal keychain out, smiling when he reads what's written on it.

"you like it?" i ask him nervously.

"yeah i do." he smiles, looking at it.

it's written 'ginger cinnamon rooibos tea with a little teacup hanging from a different chain.

"a significant part of how our relationship blossomed." he says and i let out a relieved sigh.

"i'm glad you like it."

"thank you y/n. for giving me a chance with you and for this."

"it's a pleasure."

"let's go inside, i wanna tell everybody that the cute girl at the coffee shop is now my girlfriend." he exclaims and i laugh as he helps me up.

"let's go."

we walk into the house with wooyoung telling everyone we pass by, "she's my girlfriend."

"hello everyone, i'm back here with my girlfriend." wooyoung says to everyone in the room.

"so it finally happened huh?" hongjoong asks and we nod rapidly.

"she's a yapper." sarah 'whispers' to everyone in the room.

"great because he does too." san confirms and everyone agrees that there's a lot in their hands with us being a couple now.

"oh it's 12 o'clock." rissa announces and we shout a happy birthday to you wooyoung and i hug him tightly.

"happy birthday boyfriend."

"why thank you girlfriend." he smiles and everyone mumbles a choir of disgusted comments.

#wooyoung #jung wooyoung #jung wooyoung imagines #wooyoung imagines #jung wooyoung fluff #wooyoung fluff #wooyoung scenarios #wooyoung x black reader #ateez x black reader

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 year ago

Text

Up All Night 5

Warnings: dark elements, noncon, age gap, narcissim, probably name calling and nasty words, other dark elements. Proceed with caution. (older!reader)

Note: I wasn’t serious about this but now I were. Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

You know you won’t get much sleep. It’s not unusual. Whether you’re staying late to clean up after the manchild or getting in early to do the same, your nights are short and restless. That one is particularly disturbed as you are innately aware of his presence on just the other side of the wall.

He is in your space. The one place in your life he hasn’t invaded. Until then.

You sink into a shallow sleep. The world looms through a thin sheet of concsciousness as your breathing forms a calming rhythm amidst the distant noises of the nocturnal traffic. You roll over and nestle down deeper, reaching for a more succinct respite.

You push your hand up under the pillow and bury your face in the pillow. You don’t have much time left. In an hour or so, you’ll have too get up and go through your morning routine. It may take longer considering the pest that’s infested your apartment.

Your worries pervade even your dreams as the vision of the office rises hazy behind your eyelids. You sit as you always do, typing as you glance back and forth at the empty office. Again, not unusual yet there is a sense of something amiss.

You look at your screen but can’t read the words. You push back the chair, the wheels squeaking loud as you pivot and search the space. It’s completely empty. As you turn back, even your desk is gone.

It is impossibly frigid and suddenly stolid as the office walls fade to gray. You groan as you float into the limbo between reality and dreams. Neither is much different from the other, blending in a twisted muddle of stress.

“Mmm, baby,” a deep rumble rolls through you, “silky… I like it.”

Your eyes snap open as you feel the rustle of your satin nightgown, a blaring heat against your back, the scent of cologne and alcohol roiling together in your nose. You reach down to stop the creeping touch as thick fingers push up the lace trim of your nightie. You growl as you cling to Ransom’s hand, jerking your elbow back into his ribs.

“What the fuck are you doing?” You croak through your dry throat, tearing his arm off of you as you roll onto your back.

“Huh?” His confusion catches in his throat.

“Why are you in my bed?”

You reach over and tug the chain the bedside lamp, the light shining through the ivory shade. You’re greeted by the sight of Ransom’s broad shoulders and his bare torso, pelvis barely hidden by the corner of your duvet. You blink and scowl at him.

“Why are you naked?”

“What the hell?” He sits up, “I thought– what the hell? How did I get here?”

“You tell me,” you snarl.

“I woke up on the couch and… I figured… I pulled some ass–”

“You are an ass,” you hug the blanket to your stomach, “get out of my bed.”

He doesn’t move. He looks at the door then back at you. You furrow your brow as his eyes wander down your neck. You raise the duvet as your nostrils flare.

“You’re couch kinda sucks–”

“Get out–”

“Come on. I won’t touch ya. And I’m still a little drunk,” he pinches his fingers in the air, “you really shouldn’t leave me alone.”

You glare at him. You think of getting up and stomping out to sleep on the couch yourself. You won’t do that. He doesn’t win here. This is your domain.

“You can get up or I will make you get up,” you sneer.

He squints and lets out a scoff, “what if I told you I’m already halfway there?”

You shake your head, “what?”

He looks down at his lap, spreading his hand over the blanket as the fabric shifts and reveals the nakedness of his thigh. Your lips curl and an audible noise of disgust crawls out of your throat. Your fist hits his shoulder before you can think.

“You are disgusting.”

“Hey, you should be flattered. A lady your age… waking the beast–”

“I am not some stupid young thing,” you retort.

“Don’t have to remind me,” he rolls his eyes.

“Maybe I should remind you that you are my boss. This is unseemly.”

“What are you gonna do about it?” He falls back against the pillow, “if you’re not gonna solve the problem. Isn’t that you’re job?"

“Do you have no shame?” You spit.

He smirks as he folds his arms behind his head. He pushes his chest out and wiggles his hips, the blanket threatening to reveal even more. Revulsion courses up your spin and fills your stomach with bile. In a million years, you would never touch Ransom Drysdale.

You sputter and recoil. You grumble as you turn your back to him and stand, tugging down your nightie as you stand and snatch your watch from beside the lamp. You check the time. Another early morning.

“Go to sleep then,” you grit, “you’ll be a lot more tolerable then.”

You sweep out of the room as you slip the watch around your wrist. You pad down the hall and rub your itchy hot eyes. Your head is already pounding. The thought of coffee consumes you, promising some relief before you face another day of that man and his incompetence.

#ransom drysdale #dark ransom drysdale #dark!ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #drabble #up all night #au #club au #knives out #series

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wehaveimagineshere · 8 months ago

Note

Heyyyyy it's Couldn't Sleep aka inciting Carlos request back at it again. I was wondering if I could ask for a sort of pseudo-followup I guess? Where the reader has a nightmare about their not-so-great childhood and Carlos comforts them and tells them it's ok to cry and they're finally safe now. I uh....... didn't have a great night. cptsd for the win. Anyway love you, Ren. Hope you have a good day. Again, thanks for writing my other prompt. I'm gonna try and get a nap in today I'm still so sleepy.

I'm so sorry this is coming out so late! I hope you were able to sleep and you've been getting okay sleep since you sent this in. CPTSD is not fun ever, and I'm so sorry you have to struggle with it. Remember that you're strong, courageous, terrifying, and you can shake the world off its axis if you put your mind to it <3

But most of all, you're safe. Especially in Carlos' arms <3

~*~*~

It's a prison that you can almost forget about.

Its claws can become almost blanket soft, a whisper against the skin. Its footsteps can fit almost perfectly into your own, the same shoe size and indent in the sand. Its voice can become nigh indistinguishable from your own, praise and happiness flowing freely.

But in the end it is still a prison. Its claws still sharp, digging canyons into your arms, your chest. Hounding your every step, threatening to trip you up. Telling you foul and disgusting lies, wrapping you into a world of darkness and fear.

It is a prison you have yet to find the exit to, as you go from one room to another. As you are once again forced to relive what should only be distant memories, distance feelings, the claws digging deeper and deeper into your flesh. You try to remind yourself of the people who matter, who care about you, but it tries so desperately to hold you in place, to keep it company in the rot infested darkness. Choking you, trapping you.

And all you can do is scream. Scream into an endless void that swallows your very sound, your very heartbeat, what makes you you as you endlessly struggle, the blood endlessly pouring down your limbs and pooling at your feet.

An endless ocean, suffocating, thick--

Your eyes fly open as you jerk up, lungs struggling to suck down air as you scramble backward, back hitting the headboard, eyes darting to asses the threat, to find the exits--

"The door is over there, and it's open."

You hear him before you see him, a small gesture capturing your gaze as he points. Fear roots you in place, eyes boring into his, watching his body language, his expression, waiting for--

He's at the edge of the bed. No, he's standing at the foot, arms up, palms pointed your way.

Something eases in your chest.

"You're okay," you hear him say as the fear crashes, leeching your limbs of energy. "You're safe, sweetheart."

Glancing once more about the room, you note the drawn curtains, the cracked window. The rumpled blankets at the foot of the bed and to your side, too far away for you to have done it yourself. The water bottle on your bedside table, unopened, and indeed the bedroom door ajar.

Looking up once more, you finally take in Carlos. Shirtless, hair askew, shoulders tense, you recognize the look he's giving you as your muscles finally relax.

"Carlos," you whisper, dragging your knees up to your chest and hugging them tight.

"Hey, honey. I'm here. What do you need?"

All you can do is reach out a hand.

He moves slowly, deliberately, giving you all the time in the world to shift away as he crawls back onto the bed, hand grasping yours and bringing it to his chest, pressing your palm above his heart.

"You're safe, sweetheart," he repeats, bringing his free hand up to gently wipe away the tears you didn't realize had escaped. "You're home, with me. And I won't let anything hurt you, you know that."

You nod.

He reaches over, gently drawing you against his chest, loose enough so you can back out if needed.

Instead you melt into him, the tears coming freely, wracking your body as sobs escape. You're so tired but so wired, your brain struggling to align itself out of the dream and flashbacks, trying to remind itself that you're safe now.

You've always been safe with him. Especially as Carlos tucks you in close, his heartbeat now in your ears, a steady, constant rhythm in your life.

"You're safe," he says again, quieter, as his fingers run across your shoulders, your back. "You're safe. Take a deep breath." You do, holding it until until he says to let go. As you take your fourth breath he reaches to grab the water bottle. "Here. Take a drink."

It takes a moment to open the cap, but the cool water sliding down your chest helps ease more of the tension, cooling the stove heating your blood. Sighing, you set the bottle down and rub your face. "I'm sorry."

"For what? Having a nightmare? I get them too."

"For waking you up. For..." For the fear, the sadness, the helplessness, the anger, for a damaged version of yourself. "For this."

"And what is this?" he asks, brushing more tears from your cheeks. "For how amazing you are? For how you're ride or die for the people you care about? How badass you are every day?"

"I--"

"Sure, maybe you put dye in my shampoo once and I walked around with green hair for a week. But it was Saint Patrick's Day. Most people wear a green shirt or something, I had green hair."

A smile tugs at your lips.

"I had people come up to me going, 'Carlos! What awesome hair!' and I went, 'Thanks! My partner gave it to me!' and then got to listen to how smart and cool they thought the idea was."

"You put dye in my hot chocolate and turned my tongue blue in retaliation."

"We're not talking about that right now."

This time you chuckle, and the sound prompts Carlos to kiss the top of your head. "Wanna help me brainstorm ways to turn all of my coworker's tongues blue?"

"Do I get anything out of it?"

"Aside from being the mastermind? Maybe a kiss or two. Depends on how well your plan works."

Shifting your head up, you give him a smile and kiss his jaw. "Deal."

#resident evil #carlos oliveira #carlos oliveira/reader #carlos oliveira x reader #carlos oliveira/gn reader #carlos oliveira x gn reader

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neallo · 2 days ago

Note

supernatural au meronia where mello starts living in a house haunted by a victorian child ghost

hi ahgjdksghsd i love this prompt. i did not parse this initially as "near is the victorian child ghost," which i think is maybe what you meant, so i did not write that. however! i hope you will still enjoy this. ~850 words, not really edited, may eventually continue :3c

When he hears the knock on the door, Mello is expecting it. He has an appointment, and his guest is two minutes early, which he appreciates. His time isn’t worth much, anymore, but he still prefers not to waste it.

He crosses the large, creaking house, with its dust and cobwebs and half-full cardboard boxes, and swings the front door open, a greeting on his lips. The words die in his throat before he can get them out, though, and his body freezes there in the frame. He gapes.

“Hello,” the boy on his porch says. “Is this the residence of Mihael Keehl?”

Mello’s brain whirs, trying to make sense of several concurrent realizations.

One: the boy on his porch is not the person he made an appointment with.

Two: this boy is, without a doubt, the most beautiful creature Mello has ever seen in his entire life. He has short, wavy, snow-white hair, the face of an angel, and the big-shiny eyes of a baby cow. His mouth is pink, and perfect.

Three: this boy is also, without a doubt, a boy he went to school with. A boy he spent twelve years in cut-throat competition with, and who he came second to, over and over. A boy he was routinely, unnecessarily cruel to, in ways no one would ever forgive or forget. Near.

“What?” Mello hears himself say. He sounds really, really stupid.

“I am visiting on behalf of the Lawliet Center for Spirit Management Services,” Near says crisply. “My appointment is with one Mihael Keehl.”

It occurs to him, then, that Near never knew his real name. He doesn’t know Near’s, either. Wammy’s had a number of unconventional methods, and one was the early assignment of and strict adherence to aliases, even outside of school walls.

You are no longer yourself, they told the children. You’re one of many, yet still unique. You are exceptional, now.

It was a weird-ass school. Mello’s never gonna finish unpacking all the shit they went through there.

“That’s me,” he says faintly, belatedly. “Are you the exorcist?”

“My name is Nate River,” the man says crisply, pulling a business card out of the pocket of his button-down shirt and presenting it to Mello, “though you may also call me Near. I am a professional esper. My abilities include exorcism, which is the service I understand you are seeking today, but that is hardly the extent of them.”

Numbly, Mello takes the card and pockets it, staring intently. Near looks blandly back at him. There is not a trace of recognition in those eyes.

Has Mello really changed that much? Sure, he’s got the scar, now, which does cover about thirty-five percent of his face, but he’s not that much taller or broader than when they graduated, and the parts of his face that weren’t burnt to a crisp are more or less the same as they’ve always been. It seems hard to believe that Near would really not recognize him.

“Sorry,” Mello says after way-too-long, again. “I talked to someone else, at the office. I wasn’t expecting you.”

“Your initial consultation was with my partner, but he is with another client— a severe spirit infestation. I’m sure you understand.” Near smiles; it looks stiff, and strange, like an expression practiced in the mirror, but not perfected. When they were younger, he only smiled in a weird, spooky way, but it was a sincere expression. This one is hollow. “I have familiarized myself with your case, and I am confident in my readiness to handle it, if you will allow me to.”

If he recognizes Mello, he really doesn’t wanna let on— not that Mello can blame him for it.

“Right, of— of course. Come in,” he tells Near, stumbling as he steps aside.

“The notes from your intake interview indicated that you predominantly encounter the spirit in your bedroom,” says Near, his voice echoing off the wooden walls. “I assume that’s upstairs, but I would like to walk through the ground level of the house, first. In homes as old as this one, there are frequently multiple presences, but if one is potent enough, it may prevent the others from manifesting until it is exorcised. I would be dissatisfied if I failed to resolve your problem in a single visit.”

Mello winces at something (real or imagined) in Near’s tone. Subtext: I’m gonna be pissed if I have to see you again.

“Right.” Mello trails after him. “Yeah, uh— I mean, look wherever. I’m not— I’m not unpacked, but—”

“Interesting,” Near interrupts, though the word is spoken softly. “You said the presence is a child, correct?”

“Yeah.” Mello studies Near’s profile as the younger boy crouches to trace the wall. “It’s, uh. This old-timey looking kid. Victorian, I think.”

“I see.” He hums, and presses a hand to a crack in the plaster. “Ah. Your insulation is inadequate. There’s a draft here.”

“Oh,” Mello says. “How do I fix that?”

Near stands, brushing his hands off on his pants. “I have no idea. Let’s move on.”

#death note #mello death note #near death note #mihael keehl #nate river #meronia #my writing #asks #anonymous #ficlet requests

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polarisbibliotheque · 2 years ago

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Dante and Vergil with their s/o giving them late Christmas presents

Pairing: Dante x Reader; Vergil x Reader

Summary: Interestingly enough, Christmas was a time of the year when demons decided to cause mayhem - giving the whole crew enough work for months to come. Because of that, you didn't have the chance to buy your dear devil a present... But that wouldn't stop you from showing you cared.

Age restriction: none, really. Dante's present you can interpret as NSFW only if you WANT to. It pleases all readers: you can read it as something very silly or kinda spicy - and BOTH go with our red devil. He is a seducing goof, really.

Author's notes: I'm not in a very jolly Christmas spirit this year and feeling quite meh about the Holidays, so maybe this can cheer up some people who are on the same vibe as me. Sometimes we're not on our best days and it's ok if we're not on the Holiday vibe - you're not broken. It's fine if you don't feel great.

ALSO IMPORTANT DISCLAIMER: the poem on Vergil's part is a song lyrics I've written a long time ago and I went through my notes to find something I liked for this one. You're welcome to share if you like, but please credit me. It's my first time sharing this sort of work, so be nice about it ^^

Dante

Oh, Christmas. Jolly time, beautiful time, snowflake insanity time and carols playing everywhere a human – or demonic – hearing could reach.

One thing everyone seemed to forget, was the high incidence of demons causing pure mayhem. You understood Halloween – based on Samhein and all that – but Christmas…? Maybe demons liked to follow the Wheel of the Year as well and wreaked havoc during Yule?

Well, you settled with that explanation. Demons were all about magic, solstices, equinoxes, and such, so Christmas should be one of those magic heavy times too.

It was a bummer that the Devil May Cry always got busier that time of the year.

After the family and the crew got together, Dante started celebrating and waiting eagerly for it every time December 1st arrived on the calendar. Prior to that, though, you knew your red devil wasn’t much of a celebration type of guy – for a long time, he had no one to celebrate it with; therefore, he allowed the date to die inside his heart.

Hunting was his – and yours, to be honest – way to stop thinking about it. If you were busy, you wouldn’t notice that loneliness that seemed to approach during the jolly time.

You sighed, while walking back home in the streets of Redgrave. With hands inside your coat’s pockets, your sword was carefully kept inside a guitar case you caried on your back – something you learned with Dante to be less obvious of your status as a devil hunter to other people. You were just another tired musician, coming back home after a tiring day at work.

And what a day. You received so many calls, the crew had to cancel Christmas and each one go to a job and clear one demon infestation at a time. That meant no Christmas food, no cozy drinks, no jolly songs on repeat and no presents.

With your feet marking your way in the snow, the snowflakes spiraled as you let out another sigh. You wanted to give Dante a present – to show him you cared and all that, even after he told you he didn’t want anything. But that was the thing about him: Dante never wanted anything and always thought he didn’t deserve it.

If you could only grab him by the shoulders and shake that stupid belief out of his head. It was funny even how many times that type of thought crossed your head – but it was a staple of living with Dante.

You could hear people celebrating inside their houses. It was very late and probably in the middle of the night – you didn’t carry a watch or something to tell the time since a demon blasted your cellphone in two during a job and it took you more than a year to scrape some money to get a new one. Nevertheless, you learnt to tell the time by the skies and, giving how late it was, Dante probably was coming back from his as well.

He would be tired – or at least sore from all the fighting – and certainly in need of a shower, just like you at the moment.

Crossing the heavy wooden doors of the Devil May Cry, you left the guitar case and dirty boots by the jukebox, noticing how Dante’s were missing – that meant he still wasn’t home.

As you went up the stairs, you still thought about his gift. You could give him a pizza for the night and Dante would be happy. One would think it would be great to have someone easy to please around, but it did make your life more difficult: you had no idea what to give him when you wanted something to be really special.

Everything was special for Dante.

Reaching your room, you finally smiled while searching for some clean pajamas. That little thought made you realize something – and search for a beautiful ribbon you could wrap a present with.

“Ei, babe! Still in the shower?”

“Hey, Dante! Just got out!” You answered while drying yourself with the towel. You could hear a little laugh in his voice as he walked around the room on the other side of the door.

“Damn, seems like I lost my chance for a nice shower with ya tonight!” His voice was a little muffled, making some effort with something. If you knew him well, Dante was finally taking his boots off and would remain sitting on the bed for a while to let his feet rest.

“Oh, I was desperately needing a shower.” You sighed, making him giggle a little. “How was your job today?”

“Eh, same as always… Nothin’ special, just a bunch of buffoons thinkin’ they’re gonna conquer the human world.” The sigh in his voice made you lough this time. You found it lovely how you always could hear his smile in the way he spoke back at you. “What…?”

“Not a usual thing hearing you say ‘buffoon’. You’re really Vergil’s brother, huh?” You couldn’t stop giggling as your fingers fumbled with the beautiful stripe of red cloth that would be a beautiful bow when you’d be done with it.

“What can I say, babe?” You already knew Dante so well, his shrug was in his voice, as well as his smugness. The cocky smile was beautifully plastered in your mind – and you’d hope you’d never forget it. “You start livin’ with the prince of darkness there, you get a few of his mannerisms.”

“Hmmm.” You tried to hold back a laugh, but the wheezing was recognizable even to Dante in the room. “Now I’m imagining good ol’ Verge dressed as Ozzy singing Paranoid like a crazy metal dad.”

You could swear Dante’s laugh could be heard through the whole shop – and you couldn’t stop yourself from laughing alongside him. Moments like those were better than any presents you could give him.

“Ha! Now that would be a sight to see!” He coughed back. “But ya know, don’t mention this to Verge, but he used to like Black Sabbath and uncle Ozzy when we were kids.”

“Nooooo…! You’re joking!” As soon as your voice achieved the heights of disbelief, Dante just laughed in response. “Verge is a Sabbath guy?!”

“I’ll say two things: Mr. Crowley and War Pigs.” Dante’s voice disappeared for a few seconds before coming back again. “If ya sing one of these by his side, Vergil knows the lyrics by heart.”

“Man, I gotta do that one of these days…!” You giggled to yourself, hearing Dante falling on the bed. Probably sitting, waiting for you to come out of the bathroom. “What about you?”

“Oh, I love uncle Ozz and Sabbath! Who do ya think introduced metal at home?!” With a sigh, you knew he was stretching and finally starting to relax. “But yeah, I was more into AC/DC, and later bands like Mötley Crüe. Verge said it was all one hell of a noise and he couldn’t focus on readin’.”

“Huh. As if you can focus on Sabbath.”

“Touché. He knew some songs on drums too, he just liked complainin’…”

That was a good present for you. Having Dante remember things of his life and talk to you about mundane things, like music, was something that always warmed your heart – you loved everything about him, but spending time together and just getting to know each other more and more… That was something only his soul could gift you.

“Talkin’ ‘bout complainin’, is everything alright there, babe? Or did the toilet swallow you?”

“Oh, you know. Just a couple of sewer demons, I’ll be done with them in nooo time.” Your answer made both of you laugh – although, sewer demons were indeed an annoying breed of devils. “I’ll be out soon, red devil, chill out. I have a surprise for you.”

“What…? Surprise…?”

That suddenly kicked into his head: it was Christmas. Dante had completely forgotten about it. He was so used to not celebrating, that going about it like a normal day was just average to him. All the lights in the street, the snow, the songs, the smells of Christmas food… It was something he had learned to ignore.

“Oh, babe… You…”

But Dante’s mumbles were interrupted as soon as you emerged from the bathroom wrapped around the red ribbon; a perfect big bow resting on the top of your head as you opened your arms. You found him sitting on the bed, shirtless, stretching his legs after a tiring day of hunting – his dumbfounded sky-blue eyes staring at you in awe for the couple of seconds you took him by surprise.

“Merry Christmas, cowboy!” You giggled back, a wide smile on your lips. “I couldn’t buy you a present, so…” You signaled to yourself, opening your arms again right after.

“Damn. I love you, babe. Have I told you that already…?” Dante murmured with a beautiful big smile on his lips, taking your hand on his as you approached. “Merry Christmas, beautiful. Sorry I couldn’t get ya a present this year.”

“It’s ok. You’re already my present, big guy.”

Dante just kissed you in return as you sat on his lap. The only way for you to know how much your words meant to him, was by the rhythm of his heart, beating like fiery drums.

He wouldn’t mind receiving that Christmas gift every year.

Vergil

The last demon fell on the floor, slayed by your very own ghostly white Mirror Edge. Your hands were covered in blood, as well as the snow covering the ground in that Christmas night.

The moon was high in the sky, celebrations already starting to come to an end inside homes all over Redgrave. Vergil once told you there were times of the year, usually celebrated by witches and occultists in general, that held power – and Christmas time was one of them.

You had to take a different job than Vergil in order to keep demons at bay that night; returning home, then, was a lone path. Quietly walking in the streets, you kept your hands warm inside your pockets, watching as people went back home or just turned off the lights to go to sleep.

“I do recall Christmas at my family’s home…” Vergil said calmly, watching the snow falling outside while he kept his hands warm with the cup of fancy tea you brewed for the night. “It all seems like a distant memory. I…” He halted his words, furrowing his brows as Vergil carefully chose his words. He wasn’t one to speak without intention and, when it came to his feelings, he always struggled to find the right words. “…Spent too much time in Hell. Time itself is a concept forgotten on those lands.”

“Hmmm. Were you aware of the passage of years…?” You kept focusing on your painting; sitting in front of it, you let Vergil speak, paying attention to his words but being careful not to overwhelm him with attention. He raised his eyes to you, watching as your hands carefully painted the snow from the night outside – Vergil knew it required trust from you to allow him to watch you creating something.

“Sometimes…” He let out a deep, controlled sigh. There was a type of tug inside his chest every time he talked about those memories; as if something inside him was twisting and leaving him breathless. “Some minutes seemed like years… And some years seemed like seconds. I only realized how much time had passed when I saw Dante for the first time.”

“Huh. Makes sense…” You muttered, making him raise one eyebrow. You reached for something on your paint desk and Vergil gave you your teacup – he always feared you would accidentally take a sip of dirty paint water in your moment of being absorbed by your art. He had done that countless times while reading; it was something he wasn’t proud of. “I wouldn’t have wasted time trying to know what year it was if I was falling apart after crawling out of Hell. Makes sense you only noticed when V united with Urizen again.”

“Hmmm.” Vergil agreed with a subtle nod, brewing your words inside his mind. You seemed to be the only person he could openly talk with and not be judged – there was something of welcoming about it. “I… Forgot. How Christmas is like. I know the memories; I know the traditions. But I don’t know the feeling anymore… I see just a ritual that only has meaning if people believe in it. In Hell, no one believes in anything; the only thing keeping you alive is a small light of hope that one day you will make it out of there. The rest…” And Vergil did a vague gesture with his hand, preparing to take another sip of his tea. “Is frivolous.”

“Only survival matters.” As you added, he nodded alongside you.

“And keeping yourself. Not allowing your soul to die. If you lose that, not even your body can bring you back.”

That conversation with Vergil marked you. They were just a few words before he went back to reading and you focused again on your painting, singing a couple of songs ever time your heart felt like it. Surprisingly, it was something Vergil enjoyed while reading – as well as mindlessly massaging your feet and calves you usually rested on his lap while both of you were concentrated on something else.

Vergil was easing back on Christmas. It was a lot of work – he wasn’t specially loved by anyone but you and Dante in the crew, but everyone was warming up to the blue devil. Trish and Lady found it easier to welcome him given their history together, and Nero was working on his own feelings of having a father – and one who didn’t even know him, to top that. The first Christmas together was a miracle and the second Christmas, Vergil already showed he was a lot better at thinking of gifts than Dante – they usually didn’t remember people actually expected to receive something, but Vergil always knew each one’s preferences.

He never expected anything back, though. It had something to do with him atoning for his sins, but there was something else as well. If you didn’t get in the festive spirit, Vergil wouldn’t get into it as well. Time and important dates were a real struggle to the blue devil – as he said before, there wasn’t such a thing in Hell.

Vergil was completely tone deaf when it came to noticing the passage of time: it was common between you two a few reality checks. Vergil usually approached and you helped him make sure what he was living was real – not one of his many hallucinations when incarcerated – and when were you. “When” as in how many weeks had passed since an important event, how many months, how many hours. That way, you helped him with his time dissonance.

He probably didn’t even remember it was Christmas… It was your job to remind him, then.

As Vergil entered your room, he could hear the shower as your voice entangled around the notes of water in a song he didn’t recognize – not that he needed to, for Vergil loved hearing you sing.

Leaving his coat on the back of the chair, he sat on the bed to take off his boots. It was a relief, really. The moment the day ended, and he came back home – it had been a very long time Vergil didn’t really have a routine of winding down, changing to comfortable clothes and sleeping in a warm, comfortable bed. He always took some time to close his eyes and feel the ground under his feet, focusing on how grounding that was.

His heart seemed to go back to its own place – a forgotten place in his chest, filled with a warm sense of safety. He could only define it as the feeling of love and protection he longed during all his years of seemingly endless suffering.

There were days in Hell that indeed felt like an eternity. Sometimes, Vergil questioned if everything he was living with you was real – working in the Devil May Cry, talking to his brother again, getting to know his son. It was a dream, and dreams were prone to ending.

Shaking his head, Vergil took a deep breath before taking his boots and opening the closet to keep them safe and sound in their proper place. The next piece was his vest, carefully kept in a drawer.

Vergil calmly went back to the desk, in order to get his coat and hang it inside the closet – hearing while you turned off the shower and started to dry yourself, still humming your song of choice. It was one you had shown him before, that he could identify.

As soon as his fingers touched his coat, Vergil furrowed his eyebrows – his eyes meeting an envelope with his name atop of his read of that month. That was your handwriting; that he was certain.

Taking the envelope between his fingers, Vergil turned it around, finding the words “Merry Christmas”.

Oh.

He had forgotten about Christmas.

Vergil stared at a lost spot on the wall for a while, internally complaining about his lack of awareness of important dates in a human world. Shaking his head once again, he finally opened the envelope, finding a simple piece of paper with your handwriting – a poem, by the way you framed it on the sheet of paper.

“When I believed life was concrete and coal

You made my heart rain gold

Dripping like honey over your chest and arms

I want to glimmer with you amid the stars

Your breath caught on my lips, kept in my soul

Your sparkle entangled in my hands, I will never let go

In the silence of the Universe, witnessed only by Venus and Mars

I give you, my love, my soul and my heart.”

Vergil didn’t know that poem.

He read those words again and again, breaking the meaning and feeling behind them. His silvery eyes had never seen them before, but there was something of different… Something that seemed to wrap around his heart and make his eyes threaten to feel more than he usually allowed them to feel.

Until he found the little note on the bottom of the paper.

I know it isn’t perfect, love, but I wrote this poem for you. It’s the sincerest thing I can give you this Christmas. I hope you like it as much as I liked writing it.

“Oh, you found it.” Vergil was lifted out of his storm of thoughts by your voice, recently emerged from the bathroom. He turned around, having a stern look on his face and his hands holding the single piece of paper for dear life. “Merry Christmas, my dear. I hope you like your present. I didn’t have time to buy anything, and I wanted to give you something meaningful.”

Without any words, Vergil approached you with the same resolution he did when he had an enemy in sight. You just looked at him, trying to understand his reactions – Vergil was always a box of surprises. He never reacted like everyone else did, but it was to be expected after all he had been through.

You were caught completely by surprise when he wrapped his arms around you, tightly holding you against his body – his face hidden in the curve of your neck. His heart was aligned with yours; and that made you smile.

It was the first time Vergil was the subject of a heartfelt poem – not just a heartless reader searching for some tenderness.

I blame Duff McKagan’s Tenderness for that last line and overall feeling of this ending part

youtube

This Tenderness. I love this man, I love this song, and it was Vergil written all over. It's also really comforting on trying times, give it a listen ;)

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lazodiac · 8 months ago

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It's time again to look at Thunder Junction's cards and try and divine where each and every one of these bad boys are from.

Also just a note in case people are curious; since Tumblr has a 30 image limit per post, I'll be doing all of The Big Score at the end, after all the colours and stuff. It's my prerogative and I'll do as I please. If you missed the first part, you can find it here! So without further ado, it is time for...

BLUE

While I don't think EVERY mount is from Thunder Junction Proper... newts ARE a creature that shows up in the west. I was initially thinking this could be for Eldraine, especially given it belongs to an archmage, but... ultimately, I think this is a native to the plane.

Another native, and dare I say this is a CHARISMATIC crab. I love the crystals on its back! I also love the blue cacti nearby it? Those are real by the way!

There aren't many turtle-men in Magic. Three, in fact, before this one; the Lagoon Sage, a Quandrix student, and a Kappa from Kamigawa. The Kappa has a VERY distinct look, the Quandrix is a sea turtle, and the Lagoon Sage is a snapper just like the Thunder-Thief over here... and I'm gonna make a called shot and say this is from Bloomburrow as a result!

Homarid are a Dominaria specialty, so this racist bastard is absolutely from there.

Djinn of this type are only found on Tarkir, so this one is easy. He's taken a break from his dragon-infested plane to relax under a waterfall martial artist style, and that's just kinda fun.

This is a tricky one, since the ability is pretty plane agnostic, and the design doesn't evoke much in it... but her collar DOES have the typical three-fang Dimir tell, and it'd fit both colour and what she's doing, so lets go with Ravnica.

Sadly a cursory Wiki glance tells me only that this guy is from America.

... okay okay, taking this seriously; the wings and the scroll and the steps, the name, all the flavour suggests this is from Amonkhet for me. It could be from elsewhere, but this feels the most "correct" for lack of a better term. I wish cards like this would get flavor text reprints down the line though...

These are some home-grown ghosts, and we know from various other stories (Gideon, Elspeth, etc) that when you die you go to the afterlife of the plane you're on... so these are some newly "born" natives.

These unfortunate individuals are from the dead plane of Oregon.

... what? I already used that joke? Okay fine. There really isn't any actual signifiers here, and the only humanoid in the art is too indistinct to tell. Given the content of the card is trying and failing to ford one of Thunder Junction's mighty rivers, I'm calling this card "native to the plane" for lack of anything else appropriate.

Oh hey it's everyone's favorite running gag from Ravnica. Fblthp is an easy one, so instead of elaborating more on our mono-eyed friend instead I'll bring up a question I want any of you reading this to answer.

Didn't they say during the initial preview teasers that there was an important plot event happening in the background of this card? That never bore fruit and I can't remember the exact preview stream I heard it, but I swear I did. I want someone to confirm this for me. I'm abusing my power.

Regrettably, the flavor text makes this spell be sourced from Oko's Home Plane. I do love this weird tumbleweed creature though!

God I hate Oko he's such a scum bag (derogatory).

A personal favorite character of mine, Geralf is an Innistradi born and raised, here to investigate the Thunder of the plane- as well as test how mana bonds work for planebound folk now that they have access to planar travel. Good luck, sir.

An obvious native of the plane. I quite like the flavor of this card as well by the way, it's just a clever way to incorporate the geysers you would occasionally see in the old west.

Another Thunder Junction native! It's wild how many of these there actually are, but wild animals do make up a bulk of cards in Magic so it's not THAT unreasonable.

Fun lore tidbit; allegedly the Thunder only started after the Omenpaths opened up. No one has lived here before that so no one can confirm that is true, and this flavor text suggests otherwise.

One of the only cards showcasing the least important members of Oko's gang of ruffians! Kaervek and Satoru busting out of jail thanks to the help of Annie Flash. The framing of the card makes it feel more like Kaervek's doing the real world (valid, Satoru is a loser this entire story) so I'm gonna call it for Zhalfir here- and yes even though technically everyone from Zhalfir is from Dominaria, it's a plane all its own now. I make the rules here!

The Fomorian made star-key to open up their vault on Thunder Junction, I feel like it is safe to say this was made here. It's got little arcs of Thunder and even looks like a deputy star, so it fits the vibe.

Fun fact; being a six pointed star, plus the fact that in the story they mentioned the sixth slot started glowing purple, I briefly had the idea that they might be implying the Fomorian's know of Purple magic and we'll get it in the big Space set we're getting down the line. Then I remembered Cosmium is purple and a major energy source for the Fomorion people, so nevermind.

I can't confidently say this is from Bloomburrow, given we don't know how big the people of that plane can get- so far they've maxed out at Badger and Fox- but I really don't know where this guy could be from otherwise! Maybe Ravnica? So lets call this Bloomburrow until corrected otherwise.

Incidentally this is one of my favorite pieces of art in the set. Love this fucking guy.

Beyond all the art signifiers, I believe it was straight up said on twitter this is a Therosian Sphinx, so she's from Theros. Good for her. Why is she wearing spurs...?

I'm fairly confident this is meant to depict Stella Lee, and she's from the Atiin people, so that's where this is from! Rundo meanwhile sounds like a Ravnica, but that's just some trivia.

This one I'm not fully sure on. The little bird like flecks of white in his magic, the watery energy... I feel like I've seen it somewhere before, but I can't quite place it. The red and blue suggests Izzet but then he's a Slickshot, the red-blue faction on Thunder Junction. I'm gonna go with my gut and say Ravnica, though.

Shit like this is why I wish we'd gotten a planeswalker guide...

Blue, so far, has some of the most easy and obvious ones to place, and for this I'm thankfully. This guy is a Stitcher, so he's from Innistrad. Easy as.

She's got some of the Sterling Company aesthetic going on, but I'm a stickler for stupid jokes so I'm gonna say she's from Zendikar. The armor could evoke Sea Gate, and they've always been good with ropes so why NOT translate that to combat?

Like with the earlier ghosts, dead-then-revived means you're native to Thunder Junction... but also this guy is clearly an Obscura from New Capenna, using some of his old magic, so I'mma call it for the big city here.

Oko's big bad gang preparing for the heist of the life-time. Since it's Oko's big idea it's from Oko's stupid plan.

The sort of misty blasts of fire and ice we're seeing here is aesthetically similar to the "gunfire" magic of New Capenna. I love this guy by the way.

Hey wait a second Ashiok can't do stuff like this. They can only read nightmares, not minds!

YEah for those of you who don't know, the Ashiok in this set is actually Jace in disguise! So this is from home-grown celtic Vryn mind-shredding. Our hero(?) ladies and gentlehommes.

An actual Sterling Company goon, though at least this one has a funny joke to his card. I still really like the work they did in making sure every weapon used in the set has the needed arcing loop for Thunder to channel through it.

Oh right the reason why we're here. I'm gonna say New Capenna again, because there's basically no defining traits here. Also god I just realized he's missing the front brim of his hat and it looks terrible. Graywater pay your men properly they can't even afford complete hats!

It took me a bit to realize what was happening in this card. The lady in the back is only choosing the final Spree option here, swapping around the Outcaster and the Hellspur's clothing. Rude!

Clothing swap spells seems like a funny prank to pull at magical college, so Arcavios is where this is going.

I think in cases where I just cannot make any reasonable assumptions based on art, I should look at mechanics. Flashback is usually in Innistrad... but this lady's neckline is WAY too exposed for that Even accounting for the new plane... honestly I give up, the only real identifying factor here is her little lockpick device, which... kinda looks Kamigawan? Lets go with that.

The vibe, the way she wears her hat, and the little phone cord(?) on her belt makes me think of New Capenna. Look some of these are really difficult and I gotta go by vibes!

And that's the 30 card limit, give me a half second for part two!

#outlaws of thunder junction #Magic the Gathering #MTG #OTJ #Planeswalker #blue mana #nerd stuff

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