#cybernya writes

[cyber-nya]

Concussed

Smoker has to keep Tashigi awake until she can be examined by the medics after a violent battle with New World Pirates. Fandom and Pairings: One Piece - Smoker/Tashigi Whumptober Prompt: Forced to Stay Awake

A/N: I'm not doing the prompts quite in order? This is technically the prompt from the 8th but whatever, I'm posting it today. (Also, Happy Birthday Tashigi!)

AO3 Link

“Tashigi!”

The bark of Smoker’s voice causes her to jump. Her glasses fall askew and she trips over her own words in an attempt to apologize. Instead, they come out as a jumbled mess of syllables rather than a coherent thought, to which Smoker frowns.

“You have to stay awake,” he mutters, mouth full of cigars. She can feel his glare from behind his sunglasses.

Her head throbs; they’d been in a fight with some New World pirates before everything went fuzzy. She still needed to work on her Haki - god knows Smoker tells her enough times that she’s not strong enough yet. But Haki wouldn’t help a hard knock to the back of her head.

Tashigi blinks as the room spins slightly.

Maybe if she’d paid more attention, if she’d practiced more, trained more —

“Tashigi…” Smoker’s voice is softer now, and she finally pieces together the fact that they’re in his office. He crosses the small room, made smaller by his stature, to kneel in front of her. “Stay awake for me. You have a concussion and we have too many inj—“

A low pitch rings in her ears as Smoker’s voice fades out. Tashigi narrows her eyes as she tries to read his lips, but there’s so much happening. The ringing in her ear peaks for a moment and she winces, hand pressing at the cartilage in the hopes that something would cause it to stop.

Smoker’s thumb rests at Tashigi’s chin, turning her head left and right to assess her. Her pupils were dilated, and when the sun came through the window of the dimmed office, she winces. Smoker huffs, sliding her glasses to the top of her head. Tashigi makes a noise of protest before the light softens - Smoker had removed his sunglasses and slipped them onto her face. They sat crooked on the bridge of her nose, far too large for her slim face, but it’s an act that is appreciated. 

The contact on her chin is gone as he stands, gazing down at the young captain. Smoker bites down a little too hard on the two cigars hanging out of his mouth as he turns. He’s responsible for her well-being, and yet she still managed to get hurt. He needed to do better. Smoker clenches his fist and grabs his den-den mushi, barking orders for the medical team to visit his office stat. 

“Vice Admiral?” Tashigi speaks softly, her words slurred. The ringing in her ears pitches again and she closes her eyes.

Smoker turns back to her, exhaling plumes of thick smoke as he slammed the receiver down. He had to keep her awake until she could be examined, and he knew exactly how to do it.

“Tell me about the 12 Supreme Grade Blades, Captain.” 

At the request, she perks up. “Y-Yes sir!”

[the-corpse-regards-you]

For the fanfic asks (if you still do them xD): 20, 26 and 41

20. Any ships which you surprised yourself by liking?tana/futa and enno/tana/futa... how did this happen lmao. why am i so deeply into this. 26. How do you come up with your fanfic titles?i have noo idea tbh. it took me weeks to come up with ‘learning us’ lmao. most are just one word and wips are song lyrics atm41. List and link to 5 fanfics you are currently reading:Waiting for a miracle is one 👀 KinoNari A Little Bit of Magic (Hogwarts AU) and Somewhere Only We Know (magic au with elf!enno) EnnoTana by @thepessimistsblogand sorry this is cheating as i’m behind on all other fics i’m following, but i’ve gotten some sneak peaks at some fantastic fics/outlines by cybernya, ziba, trashquing, and noyabeans that i'm super excited about, those are most of what i’ve been reading atm. i def recommend anyone check them out if they want fic rec, and they each write diff style stuffthank you so much for the questions!! ♥♥♥> Fanfiction Ask

[cyber-nya]

Baited

Gol D. Roger x Reader

A pair of young, upstart Marine officers think they can use you as bait in order to get the Roger Pirates to turn themselves in. What a mistake to make. Whumptober 2024 Prompt: Used as Bait *Gender-Neutral Reader (referred to as 'pretty' once) written in second person POV. *No use of Y/N. a/n: hiiii i'm down bad for a lot of one piece men. this is pre-canon, and could be in the "learn to do it" universe if you squint. anyway, protective!roger drives me insane. mmm.

Read on AO3! Or read on below!

“You’re making a mistake,” you spat, “this won’t end in your favor!”

The officer leading you yanked on the chain; the one behind you laughed, poking his rifle into your back.

“You’re the one who made the mistake here,” the one in front - an odd blond bowl cut peeking out from his cap - chuckled. “We’re just doing the right thing to rid the world of pirates and their associates.” The acid dripped from his tone and his partner dug the barrel of the rifle further into your back to emphasize his point.

You huffed, stumbling as they all but forced you to trip.

Today was supposed to be relaxing; a quick trip to shore on this island you couldn’t remember the name of. Crocus agreed to take you - and the boys - in an effort to maintain a low profile while he purchased the necessary medical supplies. Shanks and Buggy had run into the general store, enamored with thoughts of sweets, while you stared into the window of the dress shop across the street. That one moment of distraction was what landed you in the current predicament, dragged along the streets towards the pier by a pair of ill-tempered Marines. They’d snatched you right there, one cuffing your wrists together and the other clasping a hand over your mouth as they pulled you away from the shop window. 

(Buggy and Shanks realized something was wrong when they called out to you, asking how much candy they could purchase. The young boys dropped their potential purchases and bolted out of the store, catching a glimpse of your hair as the officers dragged you around a corner. They yelped, quickly finding Crocus in the pharmacy.)

It was honestly a matter of time before some upstart Marines tried using you as bait.

With the ocean - and the Oro Jackson - in sight, the officers paused and exchanged glances. As if on cue, your transponder snail began to warble. 

“We’ll answer that for you,” the blond officer smirked, reaching into your pocket to retrieve it. His hands wandered briefly and you jumped as he finally turned on the device.

Ca-lick. 

“I believe you have something of ours.” Roger’s voice rang out from the snail.

“Roger! It’s just two of them, and —“ you started, shouting quickly before the butt of the rifle met the back of your head. You crumpled, seeing stars and black dots. 

“Pretty thing. Shame they can’t keep their mouth shut,” the officer laughed, his partner snickering cruelly as he held a boot on your back. The air crackled and you felt the skin on the back of your neck stand.

“Oi!” a pair of young voices called out from the road leading to the town. Buggy and Shanks ran quickly, Crocus alongside them. “You leave them alone!”

“Would you look at that? We’ve got the deckhands and the doctor here now!” the officer holding the transponder said while he motioned for his partner to aim his rifle at them. They stopped in their tracks, the two boys wide-eyed.

“You don’t know what you’re doing." Rayleigh’s voice came from the snail this time.

“Of course we do; we’re Marines, doing our job. Turn yourselves in now and I won’t hurt them too badly.”

“You’re making a mistake,” you said once more, causing the boot to dig into your ribs. You hissed, closing your eyes as the officer’s weight pressed into you.

“We told you already, the only one who made a mistake here is y—“ the blond officer said, before a crackle in the air cut him off. 

Everything else had gone still - the trees, the waves - in the wake of Roger leaping from the Oro Jackson. He seemed to be shrouded in a red aura as he landed feet away from the group, with a look on his eyes only a few lived to remember.

“You think you could take one of my crew,” Roger snarled, brandishing his sword from its scabbard, “and get me to turn myself in?” He barked a laugh - not his kind, gentle laugh, but one that was dripping with sarcasm and danger - before taking a step forward. “You’re dealing with the Roger Pirates, boy.”

The officers took offense to that; the blond one tossed the transponder to the ground, nearly missing your head as the delicate device shattered and he pulled out his pistol. The one with his boot to your back jolted and you felt something in your rib cage shift rather painfully. You whined and squirmed, adrenaline pumping - you’ll figure out what that was later.

Now, though, Roger was itching to fight. The two Marines who captured you wouldn’t be much work - no, it would be more about sending a message than just simply defeating them. He took one large step, and with a sweep of his sword, sent both officers flying to the side. 

Buggy and Shanks jumped and punched the air together before realizing they should help you. They scrambled quickly, helping you up as Roger laughed once more. The pistol and rifle clattered to the ground, cut in half as the Marines screamed.

“Told you this was a mistake,” you hissed, bound hands awkwardly clutching your ribs as the boys helped you to Crocus.

Your warning fell on deaf ears as Roger grabbed the shirt of the blond Marine, tip of his sword pressed to his neck. 

You don’t remember much else of the fight - Roger slipped into a blind rage at the sight of you in pain - and your head spun from being hit with the butt of the rifle earlier. The adrenaline was wearing off now that you were safely being ushered back to the Oro Jackson, with Rayleigh waiting at the railing of the deck for you.

It was only a short while later, while Crocus checked for a concussion (which you had) that Roger returned, knuckles splattered with blood that certainly wasn’t his. He appeared to have barely broken a sweat throughout the altercation.

His attention was focused on you immediately, gently taking your hands in his. Thumbs gently brushed against the raw skin as Roger pressed his forehead to yours - a promise that no Marine would ever dare try using you again.

[cyber-nya]

learn to do it

a canon-divergent au in which the roger pirates hire a tutor for shanks and buggy.

[cyber-nya]

little princess

while in alabasta, houdini wakes up as a child without any memories of her adult life. crocodile now has a little princess to take care of. a/n: yeah this is just crack. one of many kid fics. likely ooc for crocodile but i think he just has such a soft spot for houdini in this au that it's fine.

Crocodile frowned. Houdini was supposed to meet him for coffee this morning - yet it was twenty minutes past their scheduled time and she still hadn’t shown up. It wasn’t like her, not when she was so excited to try this new coffee shop he’d funded. He checked his watch one last time before heading towards her bedroom. Perhaps she’d just overslept? If anything, she probably got into another book from the library, and stayed up all night reading..

When Crocodile approached the door, he froze. He heard something - someone - sniffling inside. It didn’t sound like Houdini - gods above he knows what that sounds like. It sounds younger, afraid. Had she found someone in the morning and taken them in? Crocodile knocked with his hook, gently tapping the door, before the sobbing picked up.

A chill settled at the back of his neck as he shoved the door open.

In Houdini’s bed sat a small child wrapped in a blanket, eyes wide and sobbing.

“Houdini?” he called out, wondering if she’d simply stepped to the bathroom. He looked around for her, stepping towards the en-suite. Lights are off…

“H-How do you know m-my n-name?” the small child hiccuped, peering from the blanket. The cigar fell from Crocodile’s mouth as he tentatively stepped forward. She sniffled, her whole body trembling. It’s then that he noticed the color of her hair, the shape of her face; the freckles that dot the bridge of her nose and her cheeks. “W-Who are you?”

“Oh, Princess..” He murmured, leaving the forgotten cigar to smolder on the tile floor. Something inside his heart stirred; she looked so afraid, so alone this small. It felt… wrong.

“You - hic - know me? W-Where am I?” Houdini whimpered, shying away from Crocodile as he neared the edge of the bed. “P-Please don’ ‘urt me.” More tears spilled down her face as he reached out to her with his good hand. She backed away, trying to press herself into the pillows behind her.

He paused when he saw her flinch. Princess wasn’t just her nickname - he knew it was her actual title. A title she discarded when she ran away from a wedding she didn’t want, from a family who was selling her off for nothing more than land and power.

Given the way the small version of Houdini was reacting, her life was far worse before she clawed her way to Alabasta. Now was not the time to be proud of how strong the woman he … cared for… was.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said softly, unsure what would earn her trust in this state. Crocodile assumed he was dealing with a Houdini who could be no more than six years old, based on how she looked.

“I told Papa I would be good…” she said softly, shaking her head. Her small hands grip the blanket tightly and Crocodile snarls. It causes the small girl to whimper, and he immediately regrets his lapse in restraint. He’s not soft, but to see such a small child instinctively react like this? (This certainly explained a lot of Houdini’s current behaviors… and it also reminds him a little of Miss All-Sunday’s past.)

“Your Papa isn’t here,” Crocodile said sharply, running his hand through his hair. He knelt at the side of the bed, keeping his distance as Houdini exhaled sharply. “It’s just you an’ me, Princess.”

She sniffled, wiping her still-falling tears from her face. “I’m scared.”

Crocodile took a deep breath. He’d work out the logistics of this later, when he could light up a fresh cigar and think. But for now, he had to prioritize Houdini. “Don’t be,” he muttered, beckoning her closer. “I’ll take care of you.”

Houdini stared, hesitant to move closer. The man at the edge of the bed was massive, and while he was a complete stranger… he wasn’t. Something told her it was okay. She kept the blanket tight in her grip as she shuffled forward on the bed, swallowed whole by the nightgown she woke up in.

“That’s my girl,” Crocodile whispered, offering his hand out to her. He watched as she stared - and he stared in turn, too. She was small, so small as she tentatively grabbed his fingers. Probably barely came up to his thigh if they were both standing. His heart did something funny in his chest and he ignored it; later, later.

“Are - hic - are you sure Papa —“ Houdini stammered, trying to hold back more tears. “Papa isn’t here? I promise I’ll be good, p-please mister…” His size was overwhelming as she got closer, nervously eyeing his hook.

He bit back a snarl at her fear, making a mental note to perhaps threaten her father himself. “Princess, you are far away from your Papa. Far. Away,” he all but spat, trying to maintain his tone. “I promise.”

Another sniffle, followed by a hiccup as Houdini nodded wordlessly. The man’s hand was warm. Safe, even.

“Let’s go get you a new dress. This one is too big for you,” Crocodile said, gently scooping her into his arms, resting in the crook of his elbow. He idly wondered if she could perch on his shoulder in this form, so small against him.

“Can I take a bubble bath…?” Houdini asked so quietly Crocodile almost missed it. She wiped her tears, fingers now tracing the ridges on the gold hook. It felt like an odd request, but then — “If Papa’s far away, can I? He says they’re messy and un.. Uh, un-princess-like. A waste of things, like money.”

The commentary caught Crocodile off guard - he simply nodded. How poorly had she been treated at home as a child? He understood transactional needs and the value of resources, especially out in Alabasta, but…

“Please?”

“I’ll get one of the maids to help you.” He didn’t dare look down at how wide Houdini’s eyes were, or the toothy smile that bloomed.

His cold heart couldn't take it.

[cyber-nya]

Delirium // Sandman

Alabasta's sun is not kind to Houdini. Fandom and Pairings: One Piece - Crocodile/Houdini (OFC) Whumptober Prompt: Sunburn / Heat Stroke Tags: Whumptober, Heat Stroke, Sunburn, Vomiting

A/N: Whumptober is here!! I have a bunch of things brainstormed but not written yet. I'll post them as it comes! Here's a version of Houdini and Crocodile meeting for the first time. AO3 link.

Alabasta’s sun is not kind.

The heat radiates off the ground in waves, the sand scorching as Houdini drags her feet. She’s willing herself to keep moving at this point, having underestimated the sheer strength of the sun and the desert’s heat on her journey to Alubarna.

—  

Someone had almost recognized her in Nanohana, or so she tells herself. An innate sense of paranoia flooded her system as she escaped the city, not considering the danger of her journey. Houdini simply wished to hide from the scrutinizing eyes of the port town, as if someone was watching her every move.

And perhaps, in a way, she was right. 

Someone was watching her every move. 

But not someone who wanted to collect on her bounty.

—

Houdini wipes her brow with the back of her hand as she struggles to stand upright. It comes away drenched, beads of sweat clinging to her hairline. Her head is spinning as she tries to keep pushing; she’d finished her water hours ago. No refill station or even building was on her path so far, and it didn’t look like the upcoming distance had anything promising to offer. Just sand, sand, and more sand.

She pauses for a moment, bending over by a rock formation. She feels light-headed, but attempts to shake it off. Just a little longer, Houdini tells herself. But the words don’t fall from her lips; she blinks, confused as the horizon tilts. A shadow lingers in the distance, but it moves too quickly for her to focus on it.

Instead, Houdini struggles to keep the little water in her system, retching as her hand cradles her stomach. She wills her body to stop, because she doesn’t have much left.

The heat is dangerous, and it may take her before anyone else has a chance to.

She whimpers, her shaking hand reaching for the rock formation in an effort to stabilize herself. Houdini barely holds herself upright as the sun beats down on her, sweat staining her clothes. She stops retching for a moment, only briefly, before she collapses to the ground.

The clouds spin as she blinks up, eyes unfocused. There’s a rustling sound she hears approaching - like a sandstorm, drawing closer - before her spotty vision turns to black.

—

Her head spins as she comes to, eyes heavy with exhaustion as she tries to open them.

Houdini realizes she’s not under the blistering sun anymore. The bed is vaguely soft, though the thin sheets are too warm.  She squints, taking in the sterile lighting of the room. A hospital room, perhaps, but something tells her it’s not quite that simple. She relaxes for a moment before realizing this was dangerous - where was she? What face had she been wearing in the desert? She gasps for a breath, finally seeing the IV line connected to her as panic bubbles violently in her chest.

“Breathe,” a deep voice commands her, and she does; Houdini takes a sharp, shallow breath before turning her attention to the voice.

“Wh —“ she starts, eyes frantic as she takes in the massive figure in the doorway.

The look in the man’s eyes is cold and calculating. His appearance is punctuated with a lit cigar - which, isn’t smoking banned? Houdni’s mind races as she looks down at the IV line. Her skin is angry and red, sunburned from her journey.

How much of her was sunburned? That thought superseded her concern regarding the face she’s currently wearing, only to be pulled from it by the man’s throat clearing.

“You must be pretty stupid,” he laughs, exhaling smoke, “or desperate, to travel from Nanohana without proper supplies.”

Houdini bites the inside of her cheek, aware of her mistake. “Or both.”

“Interesting,” the man hums, and it’s then that she realizes one of his hands is a hook.

She frowns slightly as she turns her gaze back to him, trying to remember what had happened before everything went dark. Why was this man smiling at her as if she were a meal? And how did she end up —

“You’ll need several days to recover,” he hummed, staring down at Houdini. “But after that, I’d like to discuss a few things with you.”

Houdini opens her mouth to object, fearing the lingering threat before he is gone. 

The very same sound she heard before passing out from heat stroke - that of an impending sandstorm - can be heard from the hallway.

[cyber-nya]

mmmm band au beginnings... ace guitarist inspo is phantom ghoul/randy moore tbh

The Spades were an up-and-coming alternative band under the Whitebeard label. Marco was tasked with mentoring the frontman and lead guitarist, Portgas D. Ace, as they embarked on their first tour. Ace was a bit of a wild child - though child wasn’t quite the right word. He was in his mid-twenties, rambunctious, and skilled to an impressive level. The Whitebeard label had picked him up after the label owner, Edward Newgate, found him performing at a dive bar a year ago.

“You can play much bigger shows than this,” Newgate had laughed, beer in hand. The crowd was no more than twenty people, mostly locals. Ace laughed, running a hand through his hair. “You think so?” “You’ve got it in ya, kid.”

The Spades were tasked with opening for The Heart Pirates, a leading alternative band on the charts. It was a modest tour, mostly mid-sized venues. It was a trial for the Spades, to see if they could last being so new to the touring lifestyle.

Only two weeks into the tour, however, Marco had to hire a social media manager. The Spades had gone viral overnight thanks to Ace’s performance, and they needed to get their online presence under control.

“Ace, you just had to —“ Marco groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Had to what? Perform? On stage?” Ace smirks. He’d done several things these first few stops.

[cyber-nya]

pictured from learn to do it; orchid while reading on the oro jackson. yes, that's rayleigh's jacket.

made with "my baby" picrew learn to do it. a simple self-insert fic featuring gol d. roger and silvers rayleigh hiring a tutor for young buggy and shanks. currently writing in short bursts when i have the brain for it.

[cyber-nya]

Mountain/Orchid featuring a blurb (unrelated to the ship aesthetic) from a ficlet I have stashed away.

Luana belongs to @antifa-luffy

“I know how I can get the Cardinal to the Library —“ Mountain offers, not even letting Orchid finish their sentence. The smile on their face widens and he feels his chest burst. “There’s some records in there about plants kept in the gardens, I could probably pitch the concept of returning to previous practices and ask him to meet me there to review the documents. And if you get Luana to the alcove, and excuse yourself briefly a few minutes before —“

“They’ll run into each other in confusion! It’ll be a meet-cute!” Orchid clasps their hands together and beams.

Mountain blinks at Orchid’s interruption before nodding. Meet-cute. Was that what their first interaction was? Watching the new educator flail after Swiss knocked a stack of textbooks over? Mountain had leaped at the chance to help, long arms catching at least a few of the books. He still remembers the little sound they made in thanks, tail flicking anxiously as he looks around. Orchid’s hair looks brighter than usual, even in the dim lighting of the classroom.

“And then…?” He finds himself leaning forward, only slightly, to close the gap between Orchid.

“And then we watch from the shadows! You can tell the Cardinal to meet in one of the study alcoves. There’s one that Luana and I use when we hang out sometimes - the one with the red velvet lounger - and the upper stacks are right above them! We can watch everything unfold there!” Orchid explains, adjusting their glasses.

“When?” The question comes out softer than Mountain expected, but he can’t tear his eyes from Orchid. His foot scuffs the floor as he sits on the desk.

“Tomorrow? Luana has a shift tomorrow morning, and I might’ve combed through the Ministry TEAMS schedule to find out if the Cardinal was free…”

“Okay.”

“You’ll help me?” Dimples press into Orchid’s cheeks as Mountain nods in agreement. “Yay! Go talk to the Cardinal about tomorrow and then I’ll see you in the library at like… eleven?”

“See you then,” Mountain nods, a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. There was something about seeing Orchid so excited that made his heart flutter. Lucifer below, he was fucked. Mountain hops off the desk - not really a hop, but simply steps off due to his height - and shoves his hands back into his pockets. His palms felt sweaty at the thought of simply hiding in the shadows with Orchid - not about lying to the Cardinal to make their plan work - and wondered what would happen if…

[cyber-nya]

if anyone cares i've been writing mostly oc kinktober stuff

series collection here but as of 10/16 we've got

pegging - oc x oc - sunshine x kieran

titfucking - one piece - crocodile x houdini

kink negotiation re:quintosis use/hypnosis/mind control - the band ghost - aether x orchid + mountain x orchid

spanking - the band ghost - secondo x orchid

not sure if anyone actually wants to read it since it's pretty self-indulgent for the most part, but i'll at least link it.

bonus comfort piece - grounding - the band ghost - phantom x orchid

[cyber-nya]

'Cuz You're Mine | NSFW | Hellhound!Soap x Reader

Soap is in a mood.

He doesn't like when other people touch you - you should be his, and only his. So when you collide with another operator in the hallway the stench on your skin makes him snap.

141 But They're All Monsters AU - welcome to knotting and scent marking with Soap!

A/N: Oh bABY HERE WE GO! first smut entry for me in the 141 monster au sandbox!!!! For some reason I got really fixated on Soap knotting and... well. It's a reader insert fic. Enjoy. Recommended listening: You're Mine by Phantogram.

Read over on AO3 or click on down below:

It’s easy to recognize when Soap is in a mood.

His fangs make an appearance. He snarls more.

And more importantly, he’s always close to you. Almost too close.

You accidentally bump into someone in the hallway and Soap, three steps behind you, snarls, almost lunging.

You’ve got someone else’s scent on you. While the operator you bumped into apologized, it wasn’t going to be enough. He needed you to be his and only his. 

No one else could touch you. 

“Soap it’s —“ you start, protesting whatever fight is about to happen. But when it doesn’t, when Soap doesn’t start spitting Scottish left and right and instead runs his tongue over a fang, you shiver. Your voice shakes, barely able to eke out the remainder of your thought. “It’s fine.”

His nostrils flare - the operator’s scent is mixed with yours, fresh and strong from your full-body collision. You’d walked straight into him by accident, not even seeing him round the corner. He’d touched your shoulders, your wrists, steadying you, asking if you were okay. 

In Soap’s opinion, this operator’s hands lingered too long on your bare wrists. You had a tendency to wear your sleeves rolled up and now — 

Soap then picks up other scents; he’s had to accept that there would be lingering aspects of Price, Ghost, and Gaz on you. You were part of the team, after all. 

You, in a den of monsters.

Soap sets his jaw. 

He grabs your wrist and takes lead, pushing towards the other end of the building where their on-base lodgings were. He couldn’t just take you in a supply closet as much as he’d like to fix your scent in that very second. 

You blink, but go with it. Working with monsters means the unexpected, and not just in sudden appearance changes either. But then something hits you about the way Soap has his hand around your wrist and your heart stutters, thinking about the way he licked at his fangs.

“In.” The single word is sharp and heavy - neither of you has said anything since the collision. 

You oblige, walking into the room - his room - with your heart working its way up your throat. You’d been here before, but not like this - not when he has his fangs bared and a dangerous look in his eyes. Soap is massive when you think about it: not quite the mass of Ghost or the Captain, but still large. Defined biceps flex as he circles you, a hand running through his mohawk. Part of you wonders if he ever just spontaneously has his hound-form ears when suddenly:

“I need t’make you mine,” he bites out, a snarl in his throat. He can still smell it, smell someone that isn’t you or him, or the team. It doesn’t belong here, maybe he should have done something before bringing you into his space -- maybe a supply closet or someone’s office would have been better so the stench --

You stagger slightly. Deep down, it made sense: the way he glued himself to you when he got into a mood, the way he all but tackled Gaz one day after a comment, and now this? After you’d bumped into someone full-force? He could have simply - your brain pauses, wondering what it would even be for a hellhound… and then you realize the silence in the air.

He’s waiting for a response.

Consent.

Soap is biting back every primal urge in his body to just tackle you to the floor and make every inch of you smell like him. His eyes shimmer - that reddish, dark, ember color you’ve seen before moments of pure violence - and the hand not occupied with his mohawk is clenched at his side. He needs an answer before something inside him snaps, before the piece of his humanity that cares deeply for you is overrun.

“Okay.” You barely manage to get the word out, biting at your bottom lip. You feel shy under his gaze, knowing, knowing how much strength this moment requires. Your hand plays with the hem of your henley and you nod. “Yes.”

The tension disappears from Soap’s body immediately and you smile. His shoulders drop, hand finally free from twisting and pulling at his own hair. He looks at you, wide-eyed, and licks at his fangs just like he did earlier in the hallway. It makes you shiver, and you stumble toward the bed. 

Before you could take any more steps backward, his hands are on you, holding your shoulders, moving to your forearms, your hands, pulling them from where you had been playing with your shirt. He brings them to his face, inhaling the scent of you, focusing on you instead of the other smells that lingered, before nuzzling his cheeks into your soft skin. Your hands cupped his cheeks, rough with two days of stubble as you looked up at him, larger, calloused hands enveloping yours. The dark embers in his eyes are now light and warm, just like how he felt in your hands. 

 Soap nuzzles your hands before kissing at one palm, then the other; all he could smell on your fingertips now was his own scent, strong and heavy. His chest rumbles when he recognizes your scent masked by the musk and flames as if you’d been lit on fire.

You feel a little lightheaded as Soap kisses at your palms and your fingertips, his tongue darting out to suck and lap at the digits. A noise escapes your throat as he works his way towards your wrist and you squirm as his hand holds your wrist out for him.

“Mine,” he growls, mouthing at the spot where the stranger had held you, stabilized you. Goosebumps prickled as you shivered, wavering on your feet. This was far more than you expected, far more intimate and overwhelming as stubble and fangs bite at your skin. “Mine.”

Your knees buckle slightly, losing your balance, and Soap presses your body to him as he steadies you. He manages to guide you to the bed, your original destination, and you feel his cock straining against you. 

It’s thick and prominent in his jeans but you don’t see that until he lays you back against the mattress almost panting. He’s on his knees, admiring you, kissing at your wrists, and it’s there, bulging in his pants.

You swallow thickly, your throat going dry. Soap chuckles as he finishes masking that sour stench on your bare skin from earlier, letting go of your wrists and caging you in with his arms. He’s leaning over you, nose-to-nose. You feel warm, but not as warm as he burns.

“Enjoyin’ this?” he whispers, moving to rub his cheek and nose against your face, taking in the scent of you. It quickly becomes you and him, and his chest rumbles again. 

You feel the vibration of his chest against yours as he lays on top of you, mouthing at your neck before working to the other side. It’s hard not to squirm and whine softly as his tongue drags across your skin. 

“Aye, I think you are,” Soap hums, hungry for more. His hips roll between your thighs and you feel his cock hard against your core. “All mine.”

His hands are warm as he slides them up under your shirt, up against your smooth belly. Soap mouths at your neck, biting softly - he wants to consume you whole. He pushes the fabric of your shirt up, up and over your tits before he has to shift and pry it off you. You’re shifted - hand at your back propping you up for a moment as he peels the henley off of you. It messes with your hair and Soap nudges his nose against yours for a moment while he finds the clasp of your bra. That’s gone, too, and the cool air of the room hits your skin - much colder than you thought it’d be. You’d think, if you could, about how hot Soap runs but instead you’re too busy being dizzy as his hands cupped your breasts, pushing you back down into the mattress.

You shiver and whine and Soap smirks as he licks down your neck to your nipples. Teeth and fangs drag against your skin and you feel like you’re on fire - the kind of fire you’ve caught wafting off Soap. The kind of fire he causes that sets everything to burn.

Words fail you as he focuses on your tits - one supported in his warm grasp while he sucks at it, the other gently rolling the other’s nipple between pinched fingers. Your hand reaches, finally willing your body to do something, and finds the back of Soap’s head. Nails scratch into the shaved-down side of his mohawk and it drags a groan - a growl - from him. 

He switches to the other breast and makes that same noise when you scratch at his head once more. With a soft pop, he pulls back from you and takes a long, deep breath as he settles on his haunches. His eyes shimmer between various shades - his natural blue, that dangerous burning ember color, and gold - as he brushes a hand over your belly. 

“Mine.”

He’s picturing something you can’t see as you prop yourself up on your elbows - but that doesn’t matter as he drags you close by the waistband of your jeans, spreading your thighs against his kneecaps. Soap dips to kiss at your belly button before peeling away again, stripping out of his clothes. 

He’s eager, fangs bared as he tosses everything to the floor - shirt, shoes awkwardly toed off. His belt is tossed to the side and falls off the bed with a clink. Shirtless and nearly panting, he licks at his lips as he grabs your legs. Soap pulls your legs up to toss your shoes across the room - one of them hits the door - and then pulls at the button of your jeans. It pops, landing on the ground as he pulls a little too hard in an attempt to get you out of your pants. 

You open your mouth to say something and then suddenly, everything is cold again; you’re left in your panties with the air gone from your lungs. That was smooth. Even with breaking the button off. 

Your chest heaves and there’s something electric in the air: Soap is looking at you as if you were a meal. 

He can smell your arousal distinctly, mixed with his own scent that he’s marked you with. 

Well, marked almost all of you with.

Soap’s fangs are bared as his hips thrust - you’re frozen, back against the mattress as his hands brush the back of your legs. The pads of his fingers almost burn for a moment as he takes a breath, eyes fluttering closed.

He wants to remember this moment as he presses your knees to your chest, staring right at the damp spot on your panties. The little pieces of lace and the white, dainty fabric pull a snarl from his chest once he gets a good look at you - damp and quivering. He’s bent over your core, shifting himself to lay down and nearly fuck the mattress with the way you smell and feel under him. The only moment of clarity he has is that he cannot shred those panties off you - as much as he’d like to burn them right off, to peel them apart with his fangs, he can’t.

He wants to see them on you again. 

So he very, very carefully inhales and lets one hand slide down your thigh to peel the wet fabric off. Fingers hook under the waistband and lift, the other hand pressing you back to raise your hips. It slides between your thighs as he lifts it just enough to get his head under.

You cannot breathe, not like this, not while Soap is staring down your cunt and  --

He licks into you, both hands gripping your thighs once more. Everything is so warm - his hands, his tongue - and the room almost spins at the sensation of his tongue pressing into your folds. You bite your fist, moaning while your hand finds his head, fingers gripping a fistful of mohawk. 

“Mine,” he whispers into your pussy, pressing your thighs back and apart to open you up further. 

You taste as you smell: heavenly. Now you’re mixed with him - not completely, but it makes his chest rumble as he laps at you.

Soap’s tongue licks upwards to find your clit and you nearly scream at the sensation. It’s strong, a slightly different texture than you expected, and feels so goddamn good. You’re on the edge already, whimpering as he looks up at you from his place.

His. 

His.

Any longer like this and Soap could feel you were going to lose it, going to cum all over his face and  -- 

He didn’t want that. Not when he wanted to make you his right now. He wanted to cum together with you, as much as bringing you to release first would have made him very happy. Soap pulls away, licking at his lips as he sits up. He yanks his remaining clothing off in one go, standard-issue boxers and jeans kicked to the floor. 

You whine, so very close to the edge, and prop yourself up.

The bulge in his jeans was not lying: Soap is large. He looks down at you as he palms himself, precum leaking out of his angry and red head. You watch, mouth open as he strokes - and that’s when you see it.

A thicker area towards the base of his cock.

A knot, waiting.

Given the whole hellhound business you’re not surprised, not entirely - okay, maybe the wind was knocked from your lungs and you can’t seem to close your mouth. It’s overwhelming as you blink, darting up from Soap’s face to his cock and then back again. 

He’s panting, chest heaving as his thumb spreads the precum over his shaft; the scent of you and him mixed with both of your arousals is clouding his mind. He wants nothing more than to fill you - 

“Mine.” This time, it’s a deep snarl with bared fangs as he leans down to press the head of his cock into your dripping cunt. He dips his head, chin to his chest as he pushes in slowly - the ache is mind-blowing as he enters you. You’re warm around him, and even then he’s hot, so hot it makes you squirm. 

 Your head hits the mattress, crying out as Soap thrusts in and out of you, slowly.

He’s trying to be careful, his breaths sharp as he tries to focus. The length of his cock is soon almost entirely inside you, the room nothing but the sound of Soap’s panting and your whining as he stretches you. His hands grip the back of your thighs for a moment and then he’s caging you in with his arms, cheek pressed to your cheek. 

“Fuuuuckin’ hell,” he murmurs before he begins to thrust harder, snapping his hips into yours. 

Your hands find his shoulder and the back of his head, nails scratching down what little expanse of his back you can reach. It coaxes a growl out of him, gets him to kiss and suck at your neck as he turns from your cheek.

It’s not that hard to work you back to an orgasm, not with the way he fills you. If there was space between you, you’d be able to see the bulge of his cock as he slides in and out, filling you to the brim with his size.

Soap huffs, pants into your skin as he frantically thrusts into you, causing you to choke on another moan. He snarls as he bites at your neck now, lapping at the bruising from his fangs and almost nearly drawing blood. You clench around him and he hisses, and that’s when you see stars.

The knot shoved into your pussy is expanding, trapping you and Soap together.

He’s as close to the edge as you are.

Words fail you as the sensation becomes overwhelming, your gasps-high pitched as your nails drag sharp lines down his back, as your other hand grabs a fistful of hair.

“Gonna cum,” Soap snarls, nostrils flaring as he rubs his face against yours, “gonna make you mine.”

You whine out a pathetic please as he fucks you, head spinning as you barely hold on. The knot feels so fucking good while each thrust feels like he’s trying to force it deeper into you. Everything is tight, so tight --

You keen and practically black out as Soap shoots white-hot cum into you. The sensation causes you to cum again, and again and again as he presses his sweaty forehead to yours. Bits of his mohawk stick up as your eyes flutter open and your breath hitches. He’s finally stopped filling you with cum - and it’s not slipping out from behind the knot. 

It doesn’t really register with you as you’re hardly capable of thought.

 

Soap struggles to stay still, struggles to not thrust into your cum-filled cunt plugged up by his knot. The sensation feels incredible for both parties - he just wants to buck into you more and any chance of separating gets extended by a solid thirty minutes. He finally settles for adjusting off his knees, pressing a kiss to your forehead to shift the both of you onto your sides. It’s an awkward attempt to cuddle, but it works;  Soap holds you close as you finally come to.

“Bloody hell,” Soap whispers, licking at his lips as his nostrils flare.

The room smells like sex - sex, and him, and you. It clears his mind, his entire body relaxed as you curl into him. The hand that isn’t wrapped around your shoulders gently strokes your cheek as you try to decide if you’re going to stay awake, or if you’re going to sleep.

It’s going to be a while at this rate.

After nearly an hour, Soap’s knot had softened enough to let you separate.

You both whimper at the sensation as he pulls out, your pussy no longer stretched to the brim, no more bulge where his cock and cum sat inside you. It leaked out, still steaming hot, onto the blanket and thighs. 

You groan as you roll onto your stomach, Soap no longer attached to you. He’s up, getting a cloth and water and getting ready to tend to you. 

(He realizes, in hindsight, that was a lot to take at once. Quite literally. He grabs the ibuprofen, too.)

He chuckles, deep and warm as he finds you in your new position. The room is a mess, clothes everywhere and it smells like you and him in a way that will probably never leave the room. It gives Soap a sense of pride as he looks at you.

“Mine,” he whispers to himself under his breath before kneeling on the bed to clean you up.

[cyber-nya]

A ghost. An illusion.

They are always, always real.

Oops! Ghost x Houdini. Thinking about how Ghost found her in the bathroom, broken and sobbing and asked her to come back, come back to me. She’s sharp at first, before he holds her close - teasing, biting comments - until she’s crying against him in the shower searching for reality. He will always, always keep an eye on her now. Even if she doesn’t notice.

[cyber-nya]

PLEASE YOUR VAMPIRE!PRICE SNIPPET IS GIVING ME THOUGHTS ALONG WITH THAT ART YOU LINKED???? GOOD LORD

-that könig anon

heheheh.

— - —

Sure, the way he hauled Houdini between buildings was nothing like the hunt he enjoyed… but Price almost favors the whimper falling from her lips over any other noise a victim has made.

Fae blood was slightly sweeter, slightly stronger than human blood. It took less to replenish Price; but that didn’t mean he stopped early.

“Next time, give me your neck,” he grunts, finally pulling his lips from her wrist.

Houdini giggles, dizzy. “I thought - I thought this wasn’t the way it worked.”

Price stares down with deep red eyes as he stands to full hight.

Houdini had been mostly herself for this mission, so he stands a full foot taller than her. It tickles something in the back of her brain as he licks the blood from his lips. Her eyes are wide - nearly all pupil - as she stares up at him.

His heart does that funny little thing it did early when she whimpered as fangs pierced flesh. He growls, wanting to say something — but gunfire echoes nearby.

Houdini jumps, a little wobbly on her feet.

“Let’s go,” Price hisses, taking her unmarked wrist and pulling her back towards the team.

[cyber-nya]

141 but they're all monsters au and whew houdini just. offering an arm out. they're stranded in a scorched town and it's been days since he last fed.

"please, john."

"you know that's not how it works."

houdini's eyes flicker colors for a moment - fae bullshit ghost had commented one evening - before she settles on a brown.

the brown eyes she'd met her captain with upon first assignment, before either of them knew --

it causes him to acquiesce.

he hauls her into a crevice between two smoldering buildings, tongue licking at his lips.

it would be a lie if either one of them said they didn't enjoy the moment his fangs sunk into her flesh.

[cyber-nya]

83% | Sunshine/Ghost

Sunshine is tasked to work on a major project - a terabyte of interrogations - by Laswell. In the process, Sunshine turns to bad habits and loses all sense of time. 141 comes back from a mission on Christmas Eve and knows something is wrong.

A/N: I originally wanted to write something cute for the holiday but here we are. Whoops. Slapping this into the Compromised timeline.

A few warnings:

Tags as seen on AO3: Bad Decisions, Overworking, Dehydration. Exhaustion, Dissociation, Hurt/Comfort, Mental Breakdown, Soft Simon "Ghost" Riley, Implied/Referenced Torture. Implied/Referenced Vomiting, Implied/Referenced Eating Disorder/Disordered Eating, Christmas Eve, Out of Character Kate Laswell

I am not kind to Kate Laswell here. Gross mischaracterization/out-of-character actions for the plot. Sorry! Someone had to be the bad guy here!

No explicit descriptions of violence, torture, or vomit, but it is all heavily implied. The stuff that Sunshine watched is not something she should have done alone or with the work habits she has.

I am not a medical professional. I tried to make the IV/aftermath of like, three weeks of overworking herself as realistic as I could but it's probably wrong.

Please take care of yourselves!

Read over on AO3 or down below!

Sunshine was tired. Tired and feeling rather broken; the holidays were meant to bring warmth and light to all but instead, she spent the three weeks prior to Christmas huddled in front of her computer station watching interrogation recordings. Lots of them.

Everyone seemed to forget that not ever file or recording was simply recon footage, bodycam videos, or drone aerials. 

She didn’t.

But she made it look like she forgot, made it look like she had an easy job with 141. All smiles and her namesake. Bright, sunny. Warm. Nothing crackling under the surface, nothing broken or wrong with her.

Days blurred together and the bile in her throat lingered as she processed video after video. After months of manageable content, it was fitting that the end of the year brought something more disturbing. The last time she’d dealt with interrogations, it’d only been one video - not a whole hard drive recovered featuring missing operators.

Laswell grounded Sunshine to work on this daunting task. 

“You’re the only one with eyes I can trust right now.” Laswell had said behind closed doors, pressing the hard drive into her hands.

Sunshine quickly fell into old habits from her early years - skipping meals, staying in her tiny office, too much caffeine - in an effort to plug through the terabyte of files. The team flits in and out of the base, not around long enough to notice their beloved Sun slip into darkness. They’d heard of hushed secrets Laswell was concerned about, so they didn’t bat an eye. Peace could never rest when there was evil afoot. Sunshine was just as much of a player as the entirety of 141 was.

Back to Mexico, Spain, and even Egypt they went, carrying out their own duty.

But suddenly it’s Christmas Eve and everyone’s back. Soap claps Gaz on the back as Price immediately lights a cigar. Ghost is looking, looking --

They know something is wrong when Sunshine isn’t at the hangar to greet them. Two years of missions with her on their team and this was the first time she missed a welcome.

Sunshine didn’t even realize it was the holiday as she typed a report up. The date registered vaguely at the bottom of her screen but it didn’t matter, not when peace took priority.

Real peace. Not Christmas peace.

Her fists clenched and unclenched as she stretched between bouts of typing, fingers cold to the touch. A half-eaten cup of instant ramen sits next to her monitor, cold after being left untouched for hours. When was the last time she’d slipped down to the cafeteria to eat? The days blur as she thinks about it for a moment before returning to her task at hand.

Maybe she’d be free of the nightmares by the time the new year rolls around. Maybe she’ll be able to actually get some sleep and be done with the hard drive Laswell pressed into her hands with hushed words. Sunshine could feel that she was close - a lot of the files were duplicates, but that still didn’t make things easy.

Her throat tightens as she details the incident in the latest video, hands shaking as she types. Some of the interrogations were light; some of them were the reason a second trash bin had to be snuck in.

If she never left her office, then no one would see --

The room is briefly flooded with light from the hallway before a shadow fills the room. Sunshine snaps around in a panic, wide-eyed. She should’ve grabbed something, anything --

Ghost swallows the lump in his throat as he pulls her into his arms and kneels before her chair. 

“No one’s seen you for days,” he murmurs as he cups the back of her head.

A confused noise escapes Sunshine. “What are you talking about? Why are you back already? Is everything okay?”

He pulls back, eyes narrowing as he finally gives Sunshine and her office a once over. He’s ignoring the cup of ramen and the scent of sanitizer in favor of the bags under her eyes and the way she trembles in his arms. Her shirt is threadbare and he notices she’s in sweats, wrapped in a blanket; her monitor shows a progress bar of 83% and that’s when he sees the paused video screen. “Fucking hell is that the --” Ghost begins to grit out, cupping her cheek with one hand as he forces Sunshine to look at him. “What are you working on --”

“It’s fine! I’m - I’m fine,” she lies, eyes watering.

When was the last time she spoke to another person? Her mind blanks for a moment as Ghost curses, footsteps echoing in the hallway from the open door. Oh, that’s right, she idly thinks, when 141 left for Egypt. When was that?

“Captain, we need t’speak with Laswell now,” Ghost barks, turning away from Sunshine for a moment. His eye twitches and his accent is always heavier when he’s angry. Price appears in the doorway and Ghost gives him a look before clearing his throat and turning back toward the woman in front of him. “Sunbeam, love, it’s Christmas Eve. We’ve been gone for a week an’ a half.” He’s back to being gentle, his other hand brushing the wild wisps of hair from her face. His thumb catches a loose tear as it breaches containment, wiping it away. 

Sunshine blinks, almost dumbly, as the dissociation fades away for a moment. “It’s… Christmas Eve?”

“Yes, Sunbeam,” Ghost whispers. “Christmas Eve. Wouldn’t miss the holiday with you. Made sure to get back on time, isn’t that right boss?”

Price pulls his gaze from the screen - he’s noticed, now, too - and clears his throat. “Sure is.”

“Oh.” Sunshine makes a small sound like the puzzle pieces are sliding into place.  Reality comes quickly. Sunshine takes a sharp breath as her method of dealing with her work crumbles. “I -- I -”

Ghost hushes her, thumb brushing her cheek. “Shh, hey, it’s okay, love. It’s okay. Can I pick you up?”

Sunshine nods. In her head, she starts counting; five things she can see, then four things she can feel. One, a skull balaclava. Two, light eyelashes muddied by eyeblack. Three, the shadow of Price --

He carefully stands up, pulling Sunshine into his arms. She feels lighter than the last time he picked her up, right before their last send-off, and she’s trembling. Ghost keeps the blanket wrapped around her, taking a deep breath to center himself.

Price backs out of the room as they headed toward the medical wing; she needed an IV for fluids before anything else. 

(And a fuck-ton of counseling if they understand what she’s been working on.)

Captain Price is the one who lays into Laswell first, who claims she had no clue that Sunshine had been working like this. She admits fault at tasking Sunshine to work alone on the files, but nothing else. Price leaves her office with his bucket hat clenched tightly in his fist.

Ghost stays by Sunshine’s side - Laswell could come to them. 

“Hold my hand, Sunbeam, they’re just gonna insert an IV -” he whispers, taking one hand in his while the nurse takes her other. It was a fight to even stay within arms’ reach of her, but one look at the attending doctor and he could stay. Ghost was not a man to be taken lightly in the moment. Especially not now.

“I’ve -  hic - I’ve ruined Christmas, haven’t I?” Sunshine cries, wincing at the insertion of the needle. “I didn’t realize, I - hic - I didn’t even buy presents…”

The nurse tapes the tubing and slips out wordlessly.

“Shh, no -  no love. You didn’t ruin anything.” He could only imagine what she’s seen. Hours upon hours of footage they’d recovered off a hard drive in an abandoned post. Coercing operators to break under the worst conditions and threats. 

Sunshine whimpers softly, awkwardly adjusting herself on the uncomfortable bed. Ghost lets go of her hand only for a moment to fix the blanket she’d been wrapped up in, spreading it on top of the thin sheet. 

“We’ll do something once you’ve rested up an’ feel better,” Ghost continues, voice soft. “You’ve been nothin’ but brave and strong. The best of us. Take a nap. I’ll be right here.”

She nods, feeling rather pathetic. But exhaustion has seeped into her bones and she relaxes as the IV works its magic. 

Ghost pulls up a chair next to the bed and takes watch, waiting for Laswell to come crawling out of her office to apologize. Sunshine looks at peace as she sleeps, though the dark circles under her eyes concern him.

Just how long had she been working on this project?

“Three weeks?!” he hisses, stepping away from the bed.

Laswell stares at Ghost, not entirely willing to back down. “She’s the best we’ve got for this work, and you and Price and I all know that.”

“So when she went missing -”

“I knew where she was. Holed up, working through the terabyte of  --”

“She is one person, Laswell. One.” Ghost holds up a single finger as he inhales sharply. Careless. His voice is thick and strong as he steals a glance at Sunshine from over his shoulder. “One person should not have to shoulder all of that data. You and I both know how gruesome some of those interrogations got. Reassign the remaining files.”

“Lieutenant Ri--”

“Reassign. The. Rest.” He cut her off, almost snarling.

“Alright, alright.” Laswell acquiesced, putting her hands up. She turns on her heels quickly, exiting the room. “--Merry Christmas.”

Sunshine took more than a nap - she slept most of the day, with Ghost at her bedside. A nurse had come eventually, terrified of the 6’4” figure sitting next to the bed (forgive her, she’s new) before she worked up the courage to remove the spent IV and rattle off some suggested food for when she woke up over the next few days. He’d gotten permission to keep her under observation for the next week, and even scheduled an intake session with one of the shrinks on base for her. 

The look he’d seen in her eyes when he found her in her office reminded him of his own.

When she finally wakes several hours later, Sunshine nearly cries on the spot. Ghost soothes her, pulling her into an embrace. 

“I --” she starts, crying into his vest. He’s still in his vest!

“Shhhh, you don’t have t’explain anythin’, Sunbeam. I’ve got you,” Ghost whispers, one hand around her waist and the other petting the back of her head. “You deserve a break.”

Her mind darts to 83% completion, her body tensing under his grasp. But then he moves a hand, pulling up his mask to kiss her temple. 

“A real break,” he whispers, “starting with Christmas.”

Sunshine nods as he scoops her up into his arms, the last three weeks having caught up with her. She fits against his chest perfectly, blanket wrapped around her as they headed towards the living quarters.

There, Gaz, Soap, and Price would be waiting - complete with cups of red and green Jello - to celebrate a very late Christmas Eve.

(And later, once they’ve kicked everyone else out, Ghost would pull Sunshine into his chest, small and strong against him to give her his present. Not another shirt of his to sleep in, but a necklace he’d ordered months ago: a silver chain with two charms - a skull and a sun.)

[cyber-nya]

141 but they're all monsters au:

price is a vampire because wow that art is gorgeous and of course he is. i literally cannot brain anything other than "hot" because listen, okay, i like vampires. always have. they just make the brain go "brrr"

soap, if we lean into "demo expert" is an elemental.... maybe he's also like - hellhound shifter-y to keep that fire useage but also i def sort of see him as a werewolf or shifter of that type? i don't think i'm making much sense here... though if we want to lean into Scottish folklore, Cù-sìth???

ghost is self-explanatory. maybe closer to death than traditional ghost. absolutely terrifying. man has no footsteps.

gaz could be a few things, i'm not as confident as pinning a monster type onto him? i'd originally said fae that has more of a focus on magic use (in contrast to houdini below)? but i'm not sure. i need to do more digging. there's a trivia bit in his wiki page about his skins named as swords so part of me wants to lean like... dragon. for giggles. (update: he's possessed sword/armor. has a dragon form bc why not)

bonus oc info:

houdini is fae, but with more shifter/glamour abilities. very much the roanoke version of herself turned up a bit

sunshine... sunshine is really hard to pin down. in my heart, i want to do an au where she's a mermaid but that's best for au instances and not "we're all monsters here." so....fae? (Update; SUN GODDESS)

honestly if we had to use the Seelie and Unseelie courts.. sunshine is Seelie while houdini is Unseelie.