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thewidowsghost · 1 year ago

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Daughter of the Sea (Annabeth Chase x Jackson!Reader) - Chapter 4

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I have weird dreams full of barnyard animals and horiffic flashes of golden light.

I must've woken several times, but what I hear and see makes no sense, so I just pass out again. I remember lying in a soft bed, being spoonfed something that tastes like popcorn, only it's pudding. The pretty girl with the curly blonde hair hovers over me, smirking as she scrapes drips off my chin with the spoon.

When she sees my eyes open, she asks, "What will happen at the summer solstice?"

"What?" I manage to croak.

Annabeth - I presumed - looks around, as if afraid someone would overhear. "What's going on? What was stolen? We've only got a few weeks!"

"I'm sorry," I mumble. "I don't . . ."

Someone knocks on the door, and the girl quickly fills my mouth with the pudding.

. . .

The next time I wake, the blonde girl is gone.

A husky blonde dude, like a surfer, stands in the corner of the bedroom keeping watch over me. He has blue eyes - at least a dozen of them - on his cheeks, his forehead, the backs of his hands.

. . .

When I finally come around for good, there is nothing weird about my surroundings, except that They're nicer than I'm used to. I am sitting in a deck chair on a huge porch, gazing across a meadow at green hills in the distance. The breeze smells like strawberries. There is a blanket over my legs, a pillow behind my neck. All that is great, but my mouth feels like a scorpion had been using it for a nest. My tongue is dry and nasty and every one of my teeth hurts.

On the table next to me is a tall drink. It looks like iced apple juice, with a green straw, and a paper parasol sticks through a maraschingo cherry.

My hand is so weak I almost drop the glass once I get my fingers around it.

"Careful," says a voice.

Grover is leaning against a porch railing, looking as though he hadn't slept in a week and his eyes are clouded with grief. Under one arm, Grover cradles a shoe box. He is wearing blue jeans, Converse hi-tops and a bright orange t-shirt that says Camp Half-Blood.

Maybe I'd had a nightmare. Maybe Mom and Percy are okay. We're on vacation and we'd stopped here at this big house for some reason. And . . .

"You saved my life," Grover says. "I...well, the least I could do...I went back to the hill. I thought you might want this."

Reverently, Grover places the shoe box in my lap.

Inside is a black-and-white bull's horn, the base jagged from being broken off, the tip splattered with dried blood.

It hadn't been a nightmare.

"I -" I falter, looking at the horn.

Grover shifts uncomfortably. "You've been out for two days. How much do you remember?" he asks.

"Mom. Percy. Are they really . . ."

Grover looks down.

I stare across the meadow. There are grovers of trees, a winding stream, acres of strawberries spreading out under the blue sky. The valley is surrounded by rolling hills, and the tallest one, directly in front of us, is the one with the hige pine tree on top; even that looks beautiful in the sunlight.

My family is gone, nothing should be beautiful. Everything should be black and cold.

"I'm sorry," Grover sniffles. "I'm a failure. I'm - I'm the worst saytr in the world." He moans, stomping his foot so hard that the Converse hi-tops come off. The inside of the who was filled with Styrofoam, except for a hoof-shaped hole. "Oh, Styx!" he mumbles.

Thunder rolls across the clear sky.

As Grover struggles to get his hoof back in the fake foot, I think, Well, that settles it.

Grover is a saytr. I am ready to bet that if I shaved his curly brown hair, I'd find tiny horns on his head. But I was too miserable to care that saytrs exist, or even minotaurs.

All that meant was that my mom and brother had been squeezed into nothingness, dissolved into yellow light.

I'm alone.

Grover is still sniffling, and my grief subsides for a heartbeat.

I say softly, "It wasn't your fault."

"Yes, it was. I was supposed to protect Per-" the saytr's voice falters.

"Did my mother ask you to protect him?" I ask.

"No. But that's my job. I'm a keeper. At least...I was."

"But why..." I suddenly feel dizzy, my vision swimming.

"Don't strain yourself," Grover says gently. "Here." The saytr helps me hold my glass and puts the straw to my lips.

I almost recoil at the the taste, because I am expecting iced apple juice, but it's not that at all. It's chocolate-chip cookies. Mom's cookies - homemade blue chocolate-chip cookies, buttery and hot, with teh chips still melting. Drinking it, my entire body feels good and warm, full of energy. My grief doesn't go away, but I feel as if my mom had just brushed her hand against my cheek or a bruise from my stepfather, and given me a cookie the way she'd always used to. She would always tell me everything was going to be okay.

Before I know it, I'd drained the glass. I stare into it, sure I'd just had a warm drink, but the ice cubes hadn't even melted.

"Was it good?" Grover asks.

I nod.

"What did it taste like?" Grover sounds so wistful that I feel guilty.

"Sorry," I apologize. "I should've let you taste."

His eyes got wide. "No! That's not what I meant. I just...wondered."

"Chocolate-chip cookies," I reply. "My mom's. Homemade."

He sighs. "And how do you feel?"

"Like I could throw my stepfather a hundred yards."

"That's good," he says. "That's good. I don't think you could risk drinking any more of that stuff."

"What do you mean?"

Grover takes the empty glass from me gingerly, as if it's dynamite, and sets it back on the table. "Come on. Chiron and Mr. D are waiting."

. . .

The porch wrapped all the way around a farmhouse.

My legs feel wobbly, trying to walk that far; Grover offers to carry the Minotaur horn, but I hold on to it. I'd paid for that souvenir the hard way. I couldn't let it go.

As we come around teh opposite end of the house, I catch my breath.

We must've been on teh north shore of Long Island, because on this side of the house, the valley marches all the way up to the water, which glitters beautifully about a mile in the distance. Between here and there, I can't comprehend what I'm seeing. The landscape is dotted with buildings that look like the ancient Greek architecture I'd struggled to read about in books through my dyslexia - an open-air pavilion, and amphitheater, a circular arena - except that they all look brand new, their whie marble columns sparkling in the glittering sun. IN a nearby sandpit, a dozen high school-age kids and saytrs played volleyball. Canoes glide across a small lake. Kids in bright orange t-shirts like Grover's are chasing each other around a cluster of cabins nestled in the woods. SOme shoot targets at an archery range. Others ride horses down a wooded trail, and, unless I was still deleriouus, some of their horses had wings.

Down at the end of the porch, two men sit across from each other at a card table. The blond-haired girl - Annabeth - who'd spoonfed me the popcorn-flavored pudding is leaning against the porch rail next to them.

I study the blond girl for a moment, and, as if she felt my eyes on her, she looks at me, amused. I feel my cheeks darken a little, and I turn to study the two other men.

The man facing me is small, but porky. He has a red nose, big watery eyes, and curly hair so black that it's almost purple. He looks like those paintings of baby angels - cherubs. He wears a tiger-pattern Hawaiian shirt, and he could've fit right in at one of Gabe's poker parties, except I get the feeling that this guy could've out-gambled even my stepfather.

"That's Mr. D," Grover mutters to me. "He's the camp director. Be polite. The girl, that's Annabeth Chase. She's just a camper, but she's been here longer than just about anybody. And that's Chiron." He points at the guy whose back is to me.

I recognize the tweek jacket, the thinning brown hair, and the scraggly beard that Percy had described to me.

"I suppose you must be my brother's Latin teacher?" I ask, and the man turns to me, a mischievous glint in his eyes. It seemed like the glint a teacher might have when he pulled a pop quiz and made all the multiple choice answers the same letter. Through the mischievous glint, I catch the pain and grief in his eyes.

"Ah, good, (Y/n)," Mr. Brunner says, and I catch Annabeth studying me, as if she herself had felt the pang of grief that had pierced my heart when I'd mentioned my brother. "Now we have four for pinochle."

Mr. Brunner offers me a chair to the right of Mr. D, who looks at me with bloodshot eyes and heaves a great sigh. "Oh, I suppose I must say it. Welcome to Camp Half-Blood. There. Now, don't expect me to be glad to see you."

"Uh, thanks," I reply. I scoot a little farther away from him because if there was one think I'd learned from my stepfather, it's now to tell when an adult had been hitting alcohol.

"Annabeth?" Mr. Brunner calls to the blond girl.

Annabeth steps forward and Mr. Brunner introduces us. "This young lady nursed you back to health, Per -." He frowns apologetically, his expression softening. "Annabeth, my dear, why don't you go check on (Y/n)'s ," he puts emphasis on the name, "bunk? We'll be putting her in Cabin Eleven for now."

Annabeth replies, "Sure, Chiron."

Annabeth looks probably my age, maybe a couple of inches taller, and a whole lot more athletic looking. With her deep tan and her curly hair, she is almost exactly what I think a stereotypical California girl would look like, but her eyes ruined the image. They are startling gray, like stormy clouds; pretty, but intimidating, too, as if she is analyzing the best way to take me down in a fight.

Annabeth glances at the Minotaur horn in my hands, then back at me. Then she says, "You drool in your sleep."

Then she sprints off down the lawn, her blond hair flying behind her.

"So," I say, anxious to change the subject. "You, uh, work here too, Mr. Brunner?"

"Not Mr. Brunner," the ex–Mr. Brunner corrects. "I'm afraid that was a pseudonym. You may call me Chiron."

"Okay." Slightly confused, I look at teh director. "And Mr. D, sir . . ." I pause. "I suppose that stands for something as well?"

Mr. D stops shuffling the cards, studying me as if I'd surprised him. "Yes, it does stand for something. But you don't go around using them for no reason."

"Right. Sorry, sir," I reply, and Mr. D looks at me again for a moment. I pause for another minute. "Chiron, sir. What is this place? What am I doing here?"

Grover, who had sat down at the card table, flinches every time a card lands in his pile.

Chiron smiles sympathetically at me.

"(Y/n)," he says. "Did your mother tell you nothing?" he asks.

"She said . . ." I remember, with a pang, Mom's sad eyes looking out over the sea. "She told me that she was afraid to send me here, even though ou - even though my father had warned her to. She said that once I was here, I probably couldn't leave. She wanted to keep me close to her."

"Typical," Mr. D says. "That's usually how they get killed." I flinch. "Young girl, are you bidding or not?"

"What?" I ask politely.

He explains how you bid in pinochle, and so I do.

"I'm afraid there's too much to tell," Chiron says. "I'm afraid our usual orientation film won't be sufficient."

"Orientation film?" I question.

"No," Chiron decides. "You know that Grover is a satyr. You know" - Chiron points to the horn in the shoe box - "that you have killed the Minotaur. No small feat, either, my dear. What you may not know is that great powersat work in your life. Gods - the forces you call the Greek gods - are very much alive."

I take a moment to think about the former Latin teacher's words.

"I suppose that makes sense," I reply hesitantly.

Chiron looks at me expectantly. "Percy always said you were smart, (Y/n)," the man says with a glimmer of appreciation. "What else do you know?" he asks.

"Well," I think for a moment. "I suppose that, if it is true, then the gods would move with western civilization.

Mr. D looks at me and sweeps into the farmhouse, Grover trailing behind him.

"Is there a palace on Mount Olympus?" I ask Chiron.

"Well now, there's Mount Olympus in Greece. And then there's the home of the gods, the convergence point of their powers, which did indeed used to be on Mount Olympus. It's still called Mount Olympus, out of respect to the old ways, but the palace moves, (Y/n)."

I shift slightly in my seat. "Who am I, Chiron?" I ask. I pause, "Who are you?" I add hastily, " If you don't mind answering."

Chiron smiles gently. He shifts his weight as if he was going to get out of his wheelchair.

"Who are you?" he muses. "Well, that's the question we all want answered, isn't it?" But for now, we should get you a bunk in Cabin Eleven. There will be new friends to meet, and plenty of time for lessons tomorrow. Besides, there will be s'mores at the campfire tonight, and I simply adore chocolate."

Then, Chiron does rise from his wheelchair, but there is something odd about the way he does it. His blanket falls away from his legs, but the legs don't move. His waist keeps getting longer, rising above the belt. At first, I wonder if he was wearing very long, white velvet underwear, but as he keeps rising out of the chair, taller than any man, I realize that the underwear isn't underwear; it is the front of an animal, muscle and sinew under coarse white fur. And the wheelchair isn't a chair, it's a box, and it must've been magic, because there was no way that a wheelchair could have contained all of him. A leg comes out, long and knobbly-kneed, with a polished hoof. Then another leg, then hindquarters, and then the box is empty, nothing but a metal shell with a couple of fake human legs attached.

I stare at the horse that had just sprung from the wheelchair; a huge white stallion. Where the horse's neck should be, the upper body of the teacher is smoothly grafted to the horse's trunk.

"What a relief," the centaur says, stretching. "I'd been cooped up in there for so long, my fetlocks had fallen asleep. Now, come, (Y/n) Jackson. Let's meet the other campers."

Word Count: 2532 words

#annabeth chase x reader #annabeth chase x fem reader #annabeth chase x female reader

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ashlingiswriting · 1 year ago

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Sugar

Natalie Berzatto x Pete, angst and fluff, pre-canon, 1.8k for @drabbles-mc

After Pete’s first Berzatto Christmas, Natalie sleeps badly all night long, getting up to use the bathroom, pulling covers on or off, batting away half-remembered dreams.

Pete's on his phone for hours into the night, which is unusual for him. Usually she gets to stare at him, just something to do while she can't sleep, but tonight he hides with his phone under the covers so the light won't bother her, and as a result, he's become a soft glow and a lump in the bed, hardly a person to look at. At some point the outside world lightens, the birds start singing, and she's so tired she goes into the sleep of the dead and stays there, solid, until the light is pouring in cloud-whitened but strong through the curtains.

Opening her eyes, she sees the ceiling is white too, and perfect. She pulls the covers up over her shoulders a little more and looks over. Pete's gone. That was pretty much what she expected.

She looks back up at the ceiling and waits for it to hit.

It doesn't.

Okay, she thinks calmly. Weird. She's just lost the best boyfriend she ever had in her life, a goofy guy who loves her like it's his job and his hobby and his life's purpose all rolled into one, and she doesn't feel anything about it. She probes at it like the spot where a tooth got knocked out, tongue to tender gum, and decides that maybe she's run out of emotions. She used them all up yesterday and now they're out of stock.

That's good, she thinks. She can work with that.

She sits up. Across from her, hanging on the wall, is a large red and yellow painting of flowers that they bought together at an art festival. She didn't expect him to agree on it—there's a violence to the colors despite the subject matter, and the style is disjointed, borderline abstract—but he goes along to get along, Pete does, and that peace is so peaceful that she's never really wanted to question it. Don't chew your fingernails, Bear, you're not five anymore.

Pete actually peeks through the door, like a kid trying to get away with something. Then he sees her, and sticks his whole head in. He needs a haircut, she notices absently.

"Hey," he says, a little rueful. "Are you awake? Darn."

Pete is the only man left alive who still says darn unironically, and he's wearing a powder blue sweater vest over a collared shirt in his own apartment on a holiday, and Natalie really would have married him.

"Yeah," she says carefully. "I'm awake." If she stays very still, maybe her insides won't get jostled. Maybe they'll stay asleep, and she'll keep on feeling nothing.

"I see." He comes to stand in the doorway, no more comedy to him, and says, a touch nervously, "So, I've been thinking."

"Yeah, it's okay, Pete," she cuts in. She didn't drink much, but she still got a Christmas hangover. "It's okay."

He smiles, brow furrow, all puzzled. "But how—"

"It's okay, okay?" Her heartbeat is starting to get faster, and that odd thing in her stomach might be nausea. "It's okay, Pete. Just. Just go ahead."

She smiles, which is the worst moment to start feeling, and of so course it's the moment the hurt hits her in the chest.

"Okay," he says, a little befuddled still, but relieved. He leaves. There's some sounds from the kitchen. He's packing up.

Five minutes later, he's back, bearing a tray that he sets down on her bedside table very carefully. Then he sits down beside her, pointing, proud.

"So that's fruit juice, morning mix of orange, pineapple, and a little bit of lemon. That's cinnamon sugar toast with loads of butter. I put it in the toaster oven so it would get all, like, caramelized? And that—" Pete pauses. He clearly cannot think of any ingredient or process details that he can elaborate on. "—That's scrambled eggs," he says. He looks to her, hopeful, but all she can do is look at him, then back at the food.

It occurs to her that Pete is quite possibly not breaking up with her after all.

"Oh, are you allergic to pineapples?" he says, apologetic already.

"No," Nat says slowly. He wouldn't make her breakfast to break up with her, right? Because breakfast is kind, but breakfast in bed right before a breakup, that's deranged. "I'm just—" But isn't everyone deranged? "—I'm just wondering, what made you think of cooking today?"

"Well, I read that book Carmy was talking about," he says, and it's the earnestness that gets to her, the excitement. He's got a spiel all ready, he's ready to dive in.

"Yeah?" she says, a new smile breaking across her face.

“Yeah," he says, even more excited than before, smiling now because she's smiling, and that's it. She launches herself at him, wraps her arms around his neck, holds tight. He holds her like he knows what he's doing, all big enveloping warmth, right hand rubbing her back. He doesn't question it.

“How’d you get it so fast?” she says, half-into his neck.

“Oh, I downloaded the Libby app ages ago. You know, it's like the best of both worlds. You get to support the library, but at the same time it's on your phone, so you don't have to worry about losing a physical copy, and—"

Nat's laughing now, so Pete turns his head a little and kisses her. Aims for her forehead, misses, gets all hair. Kisses her again anyways.

"You okay?" he says.

"Oh, I'm just all weird after last night," she says, peeling herself away a little, wiping her hair and tears out of her eyes in one quick movement. "So what did the book say?"

She knows, from the way he pulls one of the blankets up and around her, that he's caught the tears. But he just puts his arms around her little cocoon and keeps going.

"It's really interesting, actually. A little dense, but not academic. Kind of what you'd expect from Carmy?" He thinks on that for a second, then keeps going. "I couldn't stop thinking about this one part, which was less about cooking and more like this essay on personal history, and how sometimes, if there's something you really can't escape, like a thought or a memory or a person or a place, instead of trying to run away from it, you're better off trying to change the context. And there was a bunch of psychology stuff in there, but I'm not sure I really got all of that. Basically, though, it's about changing associations. Or adding associations."

His left arm still loosely draped around her, he reaches out, all six foot one inches of him straining, and manages to pick up the plate with the buttered cinnamon sugar toast on it. He holds it right under her nose, and she inhales. Her mouth waters.

"So," he says. "Sugar."

Nat gets it immediately.

"Sugar," she says, poking one of her hands out of her blanket cocoon to retrieve a slice.

"Sugar," he repeats, and then he sort of arranges himself against the headboard to be that much more convenient a human recliner, takes his own toast, and crunches away. "I'll run laundry today," he says, as if to pre-empt any comments about crumbs, though she wasn't gonna make them.

The toast is crunchy and decadent, with a surprising little edge of salt mixed in with all the sweetness, and Nat melts into his chest. It's a good silence, a long one, long enough to let all the residual doubts drain away.

Shortly after all the toast is gone, Pete's about to go for the eggs, and she intervenes. She kisses him.

The eggs end up going cold. The sweater vest ends up on the floor.

Some time later, right back where they were, though they're naked this time and sharing the blanket. Nat's staring at the painting again.

"We should get rid of that, right?" she says. "We should get something else. I don't know what I was thinking. It's not very you."

"No, I love it."

She looks up at him. He really is so funny, her man. "No, you don't."

"No, but I love the way you love it. Of all the paintings at the fair, this is the one that you stood and stared at the most. And I remember, you didn't even want to talk to the artist cause you wanted to stare at it for longer. You're so smart," he says, like that's not a non sequitur.

She can't help herself. "But you don't love it."

Pete looks from the painted poppies to Nat.

"I love you," he says. "That's, like, the same thing, right? Kind of like the transitive property in geometry."

Her forehead furrows for a second, and she just keeps looking at him. After a while, she finally says, a little slowly, like she's made a discovery, "My brothers think you're stupid."

"Yeah," he says, with the placid acceptance provided to him as a proprietor of two diplomas, a Chicago Stock Exchange salary, and childhood principally featuring a golden retriever named Noodles.

"Yeah," says Nat. "They're stupid."

Pete only laughs. "Oh, Sugar. They're your brothers."

She tilts her head to the side.

"How was that?"

"Sugar? That was..." Natalie thinks on it, then nods. "Pretty good."

"Didn't fix it," he acknowledges.

"But it was pretty good." She settles back into the crook of his arm and lets the twin comedowns from sugar and sex wash over her, warm and sleepy. She closes her eyes. Another silence, this one even better than the last, absolutely content.

The punchline comes months later, when they're both waiting in the hospital to for the chance to meet Richie's little girl. She was supposed to arrive hours ago. The labor's gone badly, Nat's nerves are shot, Mikey's nowhere to be found, and Richie's pacing the hall clutching an un-smoked cigar like it's a weapon. Donna arrives.

Pete says, going loud so she can hear him over the battling sounds of her mother and the nurse, "Now we just need to figure out how to put an Are You Okay in the toaster oven."

Nat laughs so hard that her mother actually stops arguing with the nurse to turn and look at her, but before she can say anything, Mikey comes sweeping in to say it for her: "What's so funny?"

"Nothing," Natalie says. "Nothing." She elbows Pete, who's already spotted it too: Richie making a beeline for the nurse with an unhinged glint in his eye. Pete heaves himself to his feet and prepares to try for an interception, while she does hers without even standing up, throws her arm around Mikey and makes him bend down for his hug.

"Always something going on with you, huh, Sugar," he says. He smells awful, but he hugs just as well as Pete does, and she kisses his bearded cheek.

"Oh yeah," she says, with the placid acceptance provided to her as the proprietor of health insurance, half an apartment, and an engagement ring hanging on a chain around her neck, keeping secret till such a time as it will not upstage Tiff's big day. "That's me."

#fanfiction #the bear fx #natalie berzatto #natalie berzatto x pete #the bear fanfiction #mine

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jackrrabbit · 3 years ago

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open season thirsts [3/?] /// Dabi x f!Reader (18+)

Request: my darling sara dm’d me this request for halloween-themed dabi creeping on poor innocent reader <3

@printhes ily for getting me to make a halloween playlist in fucking september. your mind unparalleled. this is just a drabble but i’ll consider continuing it for real halloween…

Tags/warnings: stalking, mentions of alcohol/drinking, drugging, angel costume ok ok

everything seems a little more spooky on halloween.

your mouth tastes like cranberry juice and white rum and bacardi breezers and you wonder if it stained your lips red. the halloween party you were at was fun, but you shouldn’t’ve had that fourth drink…and you shouldn’t’ve said you’d walk home alone. it’s cold. you didn’t bring a jacket because you thought it would ‘ruin the outfit’, or something—and hey, 5-hours-ago-you has a point. this year you decided you were going to be an angel for halloween, and you don’t own anything that fits over the wings.

still. damn it, why didn’t you bring something to change into? sure, you’re probably not the only pretty girl stumbling down the sidewalk in a too-short costume and too-high heels past midnight on october 31st, but the stretch of pavement you’re walking down is weirdly deserted. no fellow post-party walk-of-shamers, no random teens in ribcage t-shirts smoking in huddles, not even the perpetual annoying men who seem to think yelling about your tits as you pass by should be taken as a compliment.

you don’t know this area of the city well—you took the bus here, and by the time you left the party the buses weren’t running anymore. according to google maps your place is less than a mile away, but everything around here looks unfamiliar. chain link fences, brick walls, rows of iron grating covering closed storefronts. you pass a club you’ve never heard of and hear a snatch of the music pumping from inside—‘this is halloween’, the marilyn manson version. so stereotypical...the clubs have to stick to the theme, right? they played this song at your friend’s party too, and now it’s going to be stuck in your head for weeks.

but the music’s fading into the background now, and the only thing you can hear is the clickclickclick of your shoes against the concrete and the buzzing of the streetlights overhead. mist is hanging low and thick in the air, seeping through the thin satin of your slip and lifting cold sweat onto your skin. the dark feels darker than usual. you check your phone for the dozenth time since you started walking…

no signal.

that’s weird, isn’t it? the neighborhood you’re passing through has gotten steadily more residential than urban, but it’s not like you’re in the middle of nowhere. you stop dead, hold up your phone and turn in a tight circle, trying to coax out a few bars of data.

nothing. damn it. well, you know you have to keep walking in this direction for a while. hopefully if you go far enough, you’ll get somewhere you recognize. you take a step forward, making for the next orange halo from the streetlight at the end of the block.

god, it’s so quiet. shouldn’t there be—like, a dog barking or something? a couple yelling at each other, crappy teen music from a house party, some kids snickering to each other while they TP their principal’s house—something. it’s halloween, for fuck’s sake. it shouldn’t be this quiet. it’s making you imagine things…

…like another set of footsteps behind yours.

click. the heel of your strappy white pump hits the sidewalk. click. you take another step. thud.

you’re imagining things. you stop in your tracks again and twist around to look behind you. there’s no one there, just the blue-black expanse of sidewalk disappearing between the trees. you’re just imagining it.

you start humming. just to have something to listen to that isn’t your shoes and your own nervous breath. as predicted, that fucking song is stuck in your head, so you start murmuring the lyrics quietly.

“come with us and you will see—“

keep going. keep walking. the house next to you is decorated like a 9-year-old’s halloween fantasy—big inflatable jack-o-lanterns lit from the inside, plastic bats hung on strings over the stairs, cotton batting stretched out to look like cobwebs. there’s even a hunched-over witch mannequin sitting on the porch swing with an empty bowl in its hands, the kind of thing you’re sure would bust out a terrifying animatronic cackle if a kid got too close. the next house has foam gravestones sticking out of the yard. the next house has gigantic purple-striped stuffed spiders twined into the trees near the entrance, and the next house—

“—scream in the dead of night—“

the light overhead flickers.

someone’s behind you.

you heard it for sure this time. footsteps, not yours. and the sound of someone flicking a lighter on. you’re not sure why that knowledge makes you shiver—weren’t you wondering why the hell no one else was on this street just a few minutes ago?—but you pick up the pace, almost skipping in the direction of the next light down the block.

don’t look back, you think. maybe you’re still imagining it, maybe the atmosphere is getting to you and you’re nervous for no reason. keep singing. “—everybody’s—everybody’s waiting for the next surprise—“

someone laughs—low, a man, mocking—but don’t think about that. your heart is beating like crazy, fuck, you’re an idiot, who walks home alone on halloween while dressed like the sluttiest angel since lucifer? damn it—your little white slip is riding up on your thighs and you smooth it down with cold damp palms. you can’t run in these shoes, not really, but you want to. he’s probably just passing by. he probably thinks you’re an idiot for running away. you’re being really rude, it’s really—you’re panting—

you hit the circle of light and the rush of adrenaline from being able to see around you makes you pause, turn involuntarily behind you to look for him. but once again, there’s nothing there. maybe you really were dreaming it up. maybe you’re too tired or you’re drunk or maybe you’re losing it.

either way, it’s time to call a damn uber. no more walking in the dark in a nightdress and fluffy white wings. you shrug your phone back out of your purse to check if you have signal yet—one bar, but the map isn’t loading. it feels quiet again and you realized you must’ve stopped singing so you pick up where you left off while you twist around again seeking a better connection. “something’s coming…no, what is it? something’s waiting now to pounce and how you’ll—“

“scream?”

weight on your shoulders. you whip toward the yellow streetlight and he’s in front of it. he’s dressed up, you think dazedly, he’s dressed up for halloween—dark eyes dark hair all those piercings and his face—but then your brain catches up and you try, you try to scream, except a hand is folding something over your mouth and pinching your nose shut and he’s squeezing around the grip you have on your phone until the pain is unbearable and you have to drop it—

you hear it hit the ground. your phone. it probably cracked. but you can’t look, can’t check, can’t bend down. how are you supposed to? a man, a man has you, he has you. the cigarette hanging out of his mouth glows blue and then a cloud of bitter smoke hisses out into your eyes.

his face. god, that has to be a costume, it has to. you need to breathe but he’s holding a damp rag over your mouth like some movie villain but you need to breathe. you shove a fist into the hard muscle of his torso and nothing happens. could you kick him? your legs feel shaky.

you make a whimpering sound and the corner of his mouth curls up into a smile. “are you trying to fight?”

your lungs are screaming. you need oxygen, your head is starting to spin. air rushes into your lungs before you even realize you’ve taken a breath and it tastes wet and warm and sickly sweet. he adjusts his grip so he’s holding you more securely, ready to lift you up when you fall. feels warm against him. you’re already getting dizzy but you shake your head, push weakly against the dark fabric of his shirt.

“save your strength, angel,” he laughs softly. one of those horribly scarred hands cups the side of your face where you’re staring up at him and he pinches your cheek. “…you’re gonna need it.”

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omgrachwrites · 3 years ago

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Playing The Hero - Chapter Five

Pairing: Harry Potter x Ravenclaw!Reader

Summary: Soulmates have a way of seeing and feeling each other’s emotions by a gem that is set in the palm of their hand which glows with magic. The colour of the gem on the palm of your hand, erratically changes between different colours. Unbeknownst to you, every time the gem on your soulmates palm glows blue he feels very over protective and worried. That’s just what happens when your soulmate always plays the hero. Soulmate Au

Warnings: fluff, lil bit of angst

Words: 1992

A/N: This is just a filler chapter, the action will be in the next one, hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think! I love you all! xxx

masterlist

Yellow - Happy, Secure, Excited

Red - Scared, Nervous, Unsure, Angry

Grey - Stressed, Worried

Blue - Sad, Hurt, Frustrated

Orange - Overprotective

Chapter Five

Tensions were running high as you made your way into The Great Hall, completely kitted out in your Quidditch uniform, you were elated to be Ravenclaw’s Captain this year. It was the second match of the season and Gryffindor had won their match against Slytherin so pretty much the whole of Ravenclaw house were looking to you today.

With a smirk on your face, you walked up to Harry, Ron and Hermione, Hermione was the only one who was facing you and she was looking at the two boys with annoyance plain in her eyes. Though, if you were being completely honest, annoyance towards Ron and Harry seemed to be Hermione’s default setting.

“Ready to lose today, boys?” you snickered as you slid onto the bench beside Hermione. Ron looked almost green as he looked down at his half eaten breakfast but he was always nervous before a match so it didn’t really surprise you.

What did surprise you though, was the tight smile that Harry shot you, not rising to your banter like he usually did. He’d been acting a little strangely lately, almost secretive, you wondered what was going on.

“Are you okay, Harry?” you raised an eyebrow as you reached out to grab a goblet of pumpkin juice, “you’ve been looking glum ever since Slughorn’s dinner party. Was it really that bad?” you giggled, trying to lighten the mood a little.

Before Harry could reply, Hermione spoke up in a hiss, “yes, Harry. Why don’t you tell Y/N what’s been going on?” you had never heard Hermione sound so annoyed before and you bit your lip as you glanced over at Harry.

Harry looked furious as he glared at his friend but his emerald eyes softened as he looked at you and met your eyes. He sighed and ran his fingers through his already messy hair, “you’re mates with Malfoy, aren’t you?”

You were so surprised by his question that you almost choked on your pumpkin juice, “I uh, know him pretty well but I wouldn’t exactly say that we’re friends. Why are you asking, Harry?” you asked, eyeing him warily.

Hermione shook her head as she went back to reading her newspaper once more and Ron chose that exact moment to drop his fork on the floor with a deafening clang and he disappeared beneath the table.

“Do you think that he’s been acting weird? It’s just with Voldemort coming back, it seems like it’d be a smart idea for me to keep an eye on my enemies,” he shrugged it off like it was nothing, like it was the most natural thing in the world. But to him, perhaps it was the most natural thing.

For a moment, you just sat there dumbfounded, but Harry was looking at you so intently that you thought you’d better come up with an answer for him, and quickly, “uh… no, I don’t think he’s been acting weird, not any more than usual though,” you let out a weak laugh but Harry didn’t seem too impressed.

Harry nodded with a disappointed look on his face, the disappointment made your heart hurt and the opposite of butterflies swarmed in your stomach. He took a drink from his goblet and glanced down at his watch, it was painfully obvious that the conversation was over. You couldn’t help but feel deflated and disappointed yourself. It got even worse when Hermione shot you an apologetic look full of sympathy.

With a shake of your head, you got up from your seat, intending on getting yourself some breakfast, “I’ll see you guys on the pitch, I guess.”

“Y/N, wait,” Harry sighed and you glanced back at him with hopeful eyes, practically holding your breath, “if you see anything odd, you will tell me, won’t you?”

The hopeful bubble that had begun to form in your chest abruptly burst and you could almost feel the pang from it. You scoffed, shaking your head, you just couldn’t believe him. The gem on the palm of his hand caught your attention and you saw that it had turned blue. You knew exactly what Harry’s soulmate was feeling, you were wondering what they were upset about.

“Good luck, Ron,” you smiled over at the freckled red haired boy, who had promptly emerged from beneath the table. He gave you a weak smile in return as you glanced at Hermione, “see you later, Hermione.”

Without so much as a backwards glance at Harry, you stormed down the length of The Great Hall and through the huge oaken doors, you were much too angry to eat breakfast now. The cool air felt good on your heated skin as you made your way through dew soaked grass. On your way to the Quidditch pitch, you bumped into Pansy Parkinson who was smoking a cigarette. From the look of her red eyes and the streaks of mascara on her cheeks, it was obvious that she’d been crying.

“Buzz off, Y/L/N,” she sighed, her bottom lip trembling but she fell into step with you all the same.

“Please, Pansy, I’m in no mood for this today,” you grumbled as you rubbed your temples, when the Slytherin didn’t say anything to retaliate you glanced over at her, “are you okay?”

You expected her to ignore you or tell you to go away again so you were very surprised when she actually answered you, “Draco Malfoy is a prick,” she sniffled.

You rolled your eyes as you tied your hair up, why was everyone so obsessed with Malfoy all of a sudden? It seemed to you that Pansy should be spending her time with someone who actually noticed her and was worthy of her time.

“Yeah, I already know he’s a prick,” you mumbled, “if I were you, Pansy, I’d tell him to fuck off.”

Pansy scoffed at your words, “shit, if only it was that easy.”

You had no idea why Pansy was so into Malfoy, sure he was handsome and all but his horrible attitude and his prejudice ruined his good looks.

The Quidditch match was a really close one, Ron was doing really well once he’d got started and it seemed as though he had plenty of adoring fans in the stands. Ginny Weasley was an exceptionally good player and it was difficult to save some of the goals that she sent your way. Harry was just as distracted as you, but unfortunately, he wasn’t distracted enough, because he ended up catching the snitch just as you’d seen it, securing the win for Gryffindor.

Your team – and you – were of course, disappointed with the outcome of the match, but you were glad that you didn’t go down without a fight. As you were walking back up to the castle, intent on getting some good food in your stomach, Ron caught up with you.

“That was a great game, Y/N!” he grinned, his cheeks flushed from the chilly wind.

You smiled, “it was a good game, you did really well, I don’t know why you don’t have more confidence in yourself, Ron, you’re a great Keeper.”

Ron’s cheeks nearly went as red as his hair and he mumbled something beneath his breath as his graze dropped to the frosty ground.

“I’m sorry about this morning, by the way. Harry was being a real prat.”

You rolled your eyes at the memory as you walked into the blazing warmth of the castle, “it’s fine, it’s hardly your fault. I just wonder when Malfoy and Harry will be making their love affair public.”

Ron snickered with a shake of his head, “oh, don’t worry, I’m sure that it’ll be any day now.”

As you walked into The Great Hall, you ran into Neville who was flushed and looking very nervous, “I’ve been looking for you, Y/N,” he bit his lip as he fiddled with the sleeves of his jumper.

“Are you alright, Neville?”

“I was just um wondering whether you could help me with Snape’s essay that’s due in a couple of days,” he stuttered and looked at you with wide eyes, almost as if he was scared of the answer.

You smiled, “oh Neville, of course! I’ll meet you after dinner in the library tomorrow?”

Neville nodded, looking so relieved, “thank you so much, Y/N,” he hugged you before wandering off to get some food.

It was deathly quiet in the library; the only noise was the incessant patter of the rain against the windows as Harry looked through the bookshelf with a sigh escaping his lips. This was a mess, he felt like a weirdo, watching Y/N help Neville from the corner of the library but he was too nervous to go up to her – especially when she was with one of their classmates – after the way he’d acted the previous day.

He heard a breathy laugh from behind him and he didn’t need to turn around to know that Hermione was making fun of him, “what?” he grumbled.

“I don’t understand why you won’t just go over there, and apologise to her,” her voice was distracted and when Harry turned to look at her, he discovered that she had her head in a huge dusty tome.

With a raised eyebrow, Harry scoffed, “yeah, there’s no way that I’m going over there while Neville is there.”

“So, you can go up against Voldemort, but you can’t go and talk to Y/N while Neville is there?” Hermione ignored Ron’s wince and sputtered protests as she peeked at Harry from around her book.

Harry narrowed his eyes at her but she’d already gone back to her book, The Chosen One sighed as he ran his fingers through his hair and pushed his glasses up his nose as he looked around the bookcases again. Neville was currently packing up his books so Harry deemed it safe to go over, he shelved his pride and got to his feet, ignoring the annoying smirk on Ron’s face as he finally emerged from behind the bookcase.

As Harry was walking towards Y/N, Neville was walking away and their paths crossed, “hi Harry.”

“Hello, Neville,” Harry smiled wanly at him as he approached Y/N who was scrawling on a piece of parchment. Harry cleared his throat, but she didn’t look up, “Y/N.”

With a small sigh and a raised eyebrow, she finally glanced up at him, “hi Harry, what’s up?” she asked as she went back to whatever she was writing on the piece of parchment.

Harry suddenly started to feel nervous and hot around the collar as he fiddled with the sleeves of his jumper, “look, I’m sorry about yesterday, okay? I was stressed over Quidditch, and I really thought that Malfoy was up to something but maybe I was wrong,” he mumbled, he knew he wasn’t wrong but maybe it would appease her if he told her he was.

The surprise was plain on her face as she glanced back up at him before she shook her head, quickly recovering in the process, “don’t worry about it, it’s not like I was really bothered anyway,” she shrugged.

Harry swallowed, trying to ignore the pang in his chest and he was so close to asking her if that was true but he didn’t dare. Instead, he only nodded, “well, I just wanted to say sorry anyway,” he mumbled, “I’ll see you later.”

He turned to walk away but stopped dead in his tracks when he heard her speak up, “Harry wait,” she sighed and he glanced over his shoulder to look at her, “you guys played amazing in yesterday’s Quidditch match. If you really want to make it up to me then you can invite me to the party when you win the cup,” she laughed.

“Yeah, yeah, for sure. I’ll give you the password,” he grinned.

“Great, see you later Harry,” she smiled and went back to her parchment, when Harry finally left the library he felt so much lighter.

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

@annemagus @smiithys @elayneblack @amelie-black @pregnant-piggy @justadreamyhufflepuff @yoitsalexxxxx @potters-heart @voiddylanobrosey @wilddxchildd @padsfirewhisky @lozzybowe

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dolenphic · 3 years ago

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Types Of People (pt.5) shades of orange

ORNAGE -

the sound of opening a soda can, has a pretty room, sharp grins, adrenalin, writes heart felt birthday cards, dyed hair, browsing Wikipedia for 2 hours, those foxy smirks, neon signs, always in trouble and kinda drags their friends into it too, piercings, late night talks, using shower as a coping mechanism, spray paints, finding home in unfamiliar places, lace up boots, dates to McDonalds, will come to your house at 2am if u upset, needs more sleep, juice boxes, inside jokes, playful teasing, abandoned beaches, loves cuddles, hates staying at home, midnight snacks, misty forests, swallowing hard, torn pages, wandering for hours in art galleries, the smell of smoke, wearing at least 2 rings at any given time.

YELLOW ORANGE -

gardening in the morning, pressed flowers, acoustic guitar, comedy movies, yellowed pages of fav. books, circular glasses, burying their feet in the sand, constantly has a water bottle with them, only cries when they’re by themselves, staring at the moon, comfy socks, natural makeup, good grades, the color of eyes when the sunlight shines into them, spiral staircase, cursive letters, antique shops, when they’re not taking notes in the class they’re sleeping, fountain pens, brick floors, quote pictures on the walls, old diaries, has a weakness for cats, frozen lakes, over stuffed bookshelves, knitting needles & wool yarns, hanging plants, very patient, late but always with a reason.

MACORONI & CHEESE -

risk-takers, thrift stores, potted plants, polaroid cameras, the reflection of light on the water, still has a CD player, grassy hills, probably has strict parents, colorful hoodies, believes that there is good in everyone, practical, great cook, flowers in empty coca-cola bottles, running through the rain, fairy lights, likes spending time alone, art god, craving a home near the sea, open curtains, skateboard with a wobbly wheel, nintendo games, singing in the shower, jean jackets, wishes to sit at the bottom of the pool, doodling, can speak to all sorts of animals, enjoying their own company, great at keeping secrets, antique silver watches, a safe person to be around.

PEACH -

enjoys animated movies, stands up for someone who can’t stand up for themselves, fluffy blankets, hugging a teddy bear, tie dye shirts, soft giggles, loves floral patterns, holding hands, cozy borrowed hoodies, silver jwellery, long walks in the park, random adventures, follows a bunch of photography accounts on insta, soft skin, aesthetic notebooks, collecting stones with weird colors, watching movies under big blankets, amazing storyteller, bunnies, passes works on time, loose curls, getting lost in a crowd, friends with everyone, poetry on mythical creatures, video games, frosted donuts, heart shaped glasses, horrible at money management.

APRICOT -

cheers you up with warm hugs, puts succulents in their room, cute freckles, has watched every movie on netflix, plushies, scarily good with numbers, self made flower crowns, sensitive, tells you their fav. song, wishes to fly, bubbles, scented candles, wears soft sweaters when they feel lonely, hopeless romantic, flickering candles, frank but fair, trying to help as many people they can, scented markers, staring at the clouds, loves fairytales, silk pillowcase, in love with the sky, tan lines, stressed and it shows, dancing in their room, chapped lips, reckless driver, cuffed jeans, Japanese cherry blossoms, gentle cuddles on the couch, hot chocolate, the warmth of a sunset.

#types of people #orange aesthetic #orange #yellow orange #macaroni and cheese #peach #apricot #aesthetic #writing #tag yourself #colors #aesthetic writing

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someonewhowannadielol · 5 years ago

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My name is 01001010 01001011 (Alien!Jungkook! x Human!Reader)

Summary: “So you’re a human?” The alien that looked and acted like a human asked. The only difference between him and you was that he had two upside down triangles starting from his jaw going down under his shirt. Also, he was huge. “I’m talking 8 foot tall” huge.

Warning: Daddy kink, Dirty talk, size kink, cunt slapping, Jungkook being rlly big, fingering, nipple sucking (?), Dom/sub themes, and Jungkook being a curious alien.

Genre: Fluff, Smut

Word Count: 6.3k

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

COVID-19 vs Human kind. Human kind was pretty much fucked. In front of your eyes, the world population went from a staggering 8 billion people to an exponentially low 1 million. Within two years. It was in October 2020, when scientist realized that instead of working on a vaccine, they needed to discover a place where those free from this deadly disease could live. Safely and peacefully.

Then, the people of Jubal, stepped in, and it was pure chaos. You still remember the day, 14thof December 2020. Everywhere; social media platforms, billboards, NASA’s speech, everything revolved around the message they sent us. They wanted to help us. Surprisingly, we knew nothing about them, but they knew everything about us. From our appearance to our food, cultures, languages, and what not. It low key creeped you out, not going to lie.

Nonetheless, we began building the transport link through their help and finally, one year later (pretty much the brink of our extinction), we were on our way to a new life.

Honestly, you had imagined them to look like- or well, to not look like how they looked. You’d expected Pokémons, or weird looking octopus, or even insects. But they looked just like you, expect they were way bigger in size.

After half a month or so, you had started to get used to the atmosphere. Almost similar to Earth, there were two sides to this planet, a much hotter plane, where the temperature never went below 104 Fahrenheit. You remember going there when you first arrived here, and oh god, you hated it. The temperature was too high for you; they didn’t know what ice cream was (how can they not know! You thought they knew everything, yet they’re unaware about one of the most popular desserts on Earth), you absolutely hated sweating and no amount of air conditioning could stop it, and the beach just looked out of place. The sand wasn’t the usual pale brown shade, instead it was just the color of the ocean itself – it adapted to the shade of the flowing water into a green-blue hue. Weird. Also, there was one sun in the morning, and three in the evening, gradually coming as the hours passed by.

You had also noticed that all of them ate food at the same temperature. Nothing was cold like ice, or hot like a fresh pizza. The concept was new to them, and when you asked for the water to be cold at the first restaurant you went to – the waiter just looked lost. The poor soul, he was told to make the humans feel at home, so when he realized he couldn’t do what you asked to, you just felt really bad. Still, it was funny that a seven-foot tall man was scared of you being uncomfortable. It was cute, honestly.

Also, almost similar to Earth, the two places had different types of Jubals living there. The sunny side had more tan skinned people, with bright, blond hair and bright eyes. Whereas, the cold plane Jubals had fairer skin, darker hair and doe eyes. The one similarity being – they were huge as fuck. The average height was around seven foot for men, and around six foot for females. So, standing at a 5 foot 2 inches (almost three inches I swear!), you felt tiny (and intimidated sometimes, but you weren’t going to admit that.

After finalizing that you definitely didn’t want to live in the hotter part of the planet, you moved to Corellia, it was cold there but not in the way you expected it to be. In the morning, it was perfectly fine, the cold breeze was nothing short of comfortable, but as the evening came, it started to get cold to the point where you couldn’t bear to go outside after 6 PM. Sometimes, you think you might have underestimated the cold here at night, because the two beautiful moons brought such intense cold that you wouldn’t dare go out at night. They gifted you a cozy one bed apartment with a really good heating system, which you appreciated. Also, you had never been so glad that you brought the microwave from Earth, without it, you didn’t know what you would do.

Ever since you moved, you had pretty much been lonely, because of the lack of contact with humans. Most of them preferred to live in the hotter state, wanting to get tanned - and to fuck the surfer Jubal hotties. You still remember parting with your sister and her ranting about this Jubal she met who was so “dreamy” and “good at surfing”.

As usual, you were just trying to get used to the food here, thankfully, they had a smaller section of “human,” food that mostly consisted of cup noodles, vegetables, chicken and chocolates. Getting groceries was intimidating at first (honestly, it kind of still is), because everyone and everything was so large, and everyone just kept staring at you. You still haven’t interacted with a Jubal on your own, it’s not like you were scared – you were – but also you didn’t really know how to go up to one. Until now, the only two Jubals you’ve met were the grocery store cashier and the landlord. Sigh.

You were so happy when you saw the new addition of real, organic milk in the grocery aisle! Thank god you got a break from that horrid almond milk. It was just water pretending to be milk honestly, and whenever you poured it in your cereal, it felt like drowning them in water, yuck. But, as much as you could try, you just would not reach the goddamn shelf. Why did these Jubals have to be so tall! Why couldn’t they just make this aisle according to human size!

You heard someone shuffle behind, but paid no heed until you heard laughter burst and immediately looked back to see one of them laughing so hard, his body shook.

“You- you’re so tiny!” He barely managed to get that sentence out of him, since he couldn’t stop his outburst.

Of course, you were offended.

“I’m actually not! You all are way too big!” You didn’t really know how to respond, because this was just so sudden.

“Hm, I don’t think so, you’re smaller than average earthlings. But it’s okay, because it’s adorable,” so, you were really surprised when you felt him behind you, reach up to the milk shelf and grab a container of it. Of course, being the dumb idiot you were, you suddenly turned around and had to face him again. You hadn’t noticed his physical features before, but now that you did. Holy shit.

He was tall (I know, it’s obvious by now), and had such, clear, fair skin. Two upside down triangles were on each side of his jaw and went down, disappearing under his coat. He looked at you with such doe, curious eyes, almost as if he was entertained by your mere presence.

“Here you go,” he handed you the container of milk – while still being really close (not that you minded it). Despite the irritatingly bright fluorescent store lighting, his hair shined, and looked so soft.

And after that, he just followed you around the store, and you honestly didn’t really know what to do.

“You know, I’ve been trying to find a human since a month now, but I’ve heard most of them moved to the Southern part. You should’ve done that too, because Corellia is too cold for you. You’re a little slow,”

And you’re a little piece of shit.

“But now I found you. You’re really adorable, the books didn’t tell me that. Ever since humankind moved here, I’ve been really studying Earth. Did you guys really had pink leaved trees? And forests? It must be so cool for so many trees to be in one place. I also really want to meet a lion,”

“You can’t just meet a lion,” you chuckled, he was weird, but somehow, it wasn’t awkward around him. He radiated this warm energy that you hadn’t seen in the Jubal people around you, and it was comforting, made you want to stay by his side – even if it meant answering his dumb questions.

“I can, you can’t. It would eat you, because you’re bite sized for it,” he continued to comment on your petite stature, and the worst part is that you couldn’t even defend yourself, especially when he kept towering over you.

“Hey! Stop making fun of me,” you tried to push him but the basket was too heavy for you, so you ended up just… awkwardly not being able to do it. Suddenly his – huge – hand swoops in and carries the heavy grocery basket as if it was nothing.

“You should’ve told me it was too heavy for you,” he sounded almost as if he was scolding you, and coo-ing at you at the same time. His eyebrows bunched up in frustration as he mumbled something along the lines of ‘how can I protect you if you won’t tell me what you need,’ but you couldn’t really make out what he said.

You were just pulled out of your thoughts when you heard him put something in your basket. Something that the Jubals ate, not humans.

Should I ask him to leave? No, that’s way too rude. Then, should I ask him why he’s following me?

“This is delicious, you should try it,” He spoke while continuing to look around the store, and put random items in your basket. There was a variation of their fruits (this one had a gradient of yellow and orange, with huge spikes coming out from the top), cans with God-knows-what inside (the one he put in your basket had cherry colored pentagons on it, and a juice bottle that contained neon green juice. You were not looking forward to drinking that.

“I don’t even know how to make all of this. What if I can’t eat it?” You were scared of most of these food items, you got sick easily, and didn’t know how to cope if you fell sick here. Without the medicines, you’d probably die.

“I’ll cook it for you if you want to,” He looked at you and smiled, “I know humans are fragile, so don’t worry, I made sure to get the ones which would be safe for you,” he said, while petting your hair, and smiling. You instantly fell in love with it, it wasn’t like the way he laughed at you earlier, but somehow, it was far more beautiful. His eyes crunched up into half-moons, cheeks being bunched up, he almost looked like the small bunny you had as a pet when you were younger. So. Cute.

“But I don’t even know your name, why would you do this for me?” You really were curious, why was a Jubal so interested in humans? So far, most of them have just maintained a distance from you.

“Because I want to keep you,” he looked at you, and the duality of his presence made you shiver. The small bunny smile morphed into a more serious face, his already dark brown eyes, turned into a slightly darker shade, giving you the chills.

“You can’t keep me,” you didn’t know how to fight this argument, you almost wanted to laugh and act as if you thought it was a joke, but you weren’t an idiot – and nor was he.

“I know, I can’t find the Earth word for it, I want to be with you, is what I mean,” he mumbled as he tried to find something in the cereal aisle.

The grocery trip was actually not as weird as you’d expect it to be. While you both didn’t know anything about each other, not even names (not that Jubals had actual names, they just talked through their minds?)

And as soon as you reached the cashier, before you could even take out your money, he nod, and paid the bill.

“Hey! I can pay for myself, you don’t have to do this!”

Honestly, you didn’t really know what to say after he said, “I’m paying, now be a good baby and stand still,” where did he even learn to speak like that?

It was starting to get cold now, and after you exited the heated mall, it was visible that you shivered every time the cold brushed up against your figure. You should’ve worn the third sweater, sigh.

“So you’re really a human?” He said, as he carried your groceries and followed you, on your way to the apartment.

“Yeah, I’m Y/N,”

“How can you be a Y/N? You just said you were a human,” He asked, really confused. Were you pranking him? He learnt in (one of his many books about humans) that humans liked to prank each other for entertainment. He found the idea amusing, but right now he couldn’t decide whether you were pranking or joking.

He didn’t understand the difference between pranking and joking, either.

“I- What? No, I mean I am a human, but my name is Y/N,” you were definitely amused at his seriousness, yet you couldn’t help but be intimidated by his tall figure. Also, you felt bad that he was holding all the groceries, so you decided to grab one of the bags from him.

“Y/N!” He stopped dead in his tracks after your fingers brushed against his, “I just remembered you can’t bear the cold after 6pm, so you have to wear many clothes to protect yourself. You’re already so cold,” he felt your hand, and his was so warm and felt right, intertwined in your hand. His hand was so huge, that it enveloped yours easily, and you could really notice the size difference now.

He quickly transferred all the grocery bags into his left hand, and continued to give you his coat, and held your hand again, and it felt… nice. The fact that he smelled so good, helped too, you couldn’t exactly put your finger on it, but it was really comforting.

You were quite used to the stares you got on the streets from other Jubals, and always thought that they would go away, but it’s been two weeks, yet they still continue to look at you up and down, so you finally asked him. You still didn’t know his name, and didn’t know whether you should ask him or not, was it insulting?

“Why does everyone keep staring at me?”

“Because you’re so cute,”

What. It was almost like you forgot how to breathe. How could he say that all of a sudden, out of the blue? Also, you actually could not breathe, because while he had long legs that lasted for days, you had much smaller legs and it was starting to get hard to keep up.

“Hey! Could you walk-” you took in a breath, wow, your stamina was really, uh, shitty, “could you walk a little slow?”

He looked back at you, and tilted his head almost as to ask ‘why?’, but understood quickly. Then, he flashed one of his cute smiles, again, the smile that did things to your heart that you hadn’t felt before.

“Do you want me to carry you?” He also had read previously that humans can get really tired, and sometimes not even have the strength to move on. Especially females, they were more fragile, and he could physically see that too, because you were just so small. The average height was supposed to be 5’4 or even 5’6 for human females around your age, but you seemed smaller than that. But you also didn’t seem to be a child because those under the age 18 were always with their parents right? He had almost started to doubt those textbooks he bought on humans.

“No, I can walk myself,” You tried to defend yourself, and started to mentally curse as to why you asked him to slow down.

You finally reached your apartment door. Honestly, you had thought that he would stop following you after you reached the apartment building… but he just continued to bring the groceries in.

Should you invite him in? Did you even clean your living space? You probably had your underwear lying all over the place, since now you lived alone and had no fear of someone else coming in your private space.

“Can I come in?”

Well, you didn’t want to say no to him, he’s been really nice so far, and you had to admit, picking up groceries was really hard to do, and you weren’t exactly physically active enough to carry all those bags that he easily carried in one hand.

He then walked himself to the door after putting the groceries in the kitchen. What really surprised you was how he looked back at you, not how he looked before. Before, he looked with warmth, and now. Now, he almost towered at you, reminding how much power he really has over you. He looked at your lips, and then back at your eyes and tilted his head.

“W-well, it was really nice to meet you,” you said trying to break the tension and to distract yourself from the obviously gorgeous man.

“I hope to see your cute face again soon,” he smiled one of his bunny smiles again, and kissed you on the cheek before disappearing under the stairs.

You curled yourself up in your blanket, and tried to sleep, but that Jubal kept intruding your thoughts.

Would you get to see him again?

The next time you saw the cute Jubal from the grocery store was next week Saturday. On Earth, entertainment was in the form of movies, arcades and concerts. Similarly, here too, people had a theatre – instead of a movie on a projector, it was shown in 3D form, almost like a live performance, expect there were holographic figures.

You looked around, and by now you had taken into account that Jubal people weren’t afraid to show off their skin – even though it was crazy cold here, their bigger bodies could compensate by giving them more body heat. Unfortunately, your smaller stature couldn’t provide you with the same amount of heat and you always had to bundle up in three or even four layers to keep yourself from freezing or catching a cold.

You were watching a really heated up scene, and it was getting kind of… uncomfortable. While others were simply watching casually, as if it was nothing out of the ordinary, you kept shuffling in your seat – so it was a pleasant surprise when you felt someone cover your eyes from behind you.

“Wha-” instinctively, you looked behind, and it was the same boy (or man?), from the grocery store.

“Hey,” again, you waved at him, almost as a form of habit, and he looked at you as if you did something quite weird. Without any questions, he tried to imitate you, but he was really stiff so you couldn’t help but let you a laugh.

“I know I didn’t introduce myself much better last time, but we don’t really have names. Still, I decided to get one for myself, because once I get a human, she should be able to call me something,”

Did he… did he mean that you were his human?

“Well, what did you settle for?”

“My name is 01001010 01001011. I thought it was really similar to the ones that humans have. Do you like it?” He asked with a proud grin, as his face lit up.

You tried to keep your laughter in, you really did but you when it did come out, you felt like wanting to die. His face crumpled up almost as if he was ashamed of his name as he increased the distance between the two of you.

Nice one, Y/N, you made the only person who cared enough for you sad.

“Hey, look, it’s a nice name, it’s just not very human-like,” you explained to him.

“It’s the binary code for a human name,”

Because of the constant conversation you both were immersed in, the Jubals beside you were starting to get annoyed – and while they didn’t say anything, probably because they didn’t want you to feel bad (you still did, for trying to ruin their experience for this live-movie thing), you decided to head out with him.

As you both walked in one of the main parks situated in the middle of Corellia state, he settled on a spot in the corner of the massive area.

“Would you like to give me a name?” he looked at your face with such intensity, that you couldn’t help but feel insecure and want to cover your face.

“Well, what did those binary numbers represent?” you really did want to help his get a name, after all, he was your first friend here.

“I want to be called JK, but my friends told me it was a ridiculous human name, because no one was named JK before. So I settled for its binary number. They approved of that,” his eyes shone of much when he talked about it, his long lashes were uprightly curved and you couldn’t help but swoon.

You fiddled with your sweater as you gave him suggestions, but none seemed to suit him.

“Jake? No,” you were starting to get frustrated at this, “Hm, maybe Jacob?” you shook your head again, unsatisfied.

He just simply continued to laugh at you being so serious, occasionally playing with hair and pressing a finger to your soft cheeks. When he commented on you being soft, you couldn’t help but blush (and when he compared you to one their red fruits, you couldn’t help but blush harder (you denied it, obviously)).

“Jungkook!” you remember reading that word in one of the books you had in high school literature.

“Jungkook? Do you like it, baby?” He played with your cheeks with happiness, he was happy that you were no longer frustrated or angry. Finally satisfied and happy. Of course, you blushed at the word of endearment, but didn’t tell him to not say it.

Oh. Well, after that, he just continued to ask you about humans, and more specifically about you. You were amused by most of his questions,

“What is sarcasm?”

“Why do you like pizza so much, when it’s detrimental for your health? You shouldn’t eat it, I’ll make good food for you,”

“How do you make stereotypes?”

“Why do people get cosmetic surgery?”

And each one of them seemed normal for a Jubal to ask until,

“Why do humans like cuddling?”

At this point, you were quite tired, but still thought it would rude to ask him out, because he seemed really curious, every question coming right after you answer the last one.

“I guess, we just like to be touchy and close,” you said and you tried to suppress a yawn, but it just slipped.

“What was that? Was that a sigh? Or a yawn? Are you tired? That was so cute, do it again,”

“Just a little tired,” you said as you rested you head on his shoulder without realizing to do so. It was also getting really cold; the second moon had started to show up.

You both got up, and the walk back home was really pleasant. He kept cracking jokes and dancing on the pavement. You tried to imitate his dance, but your flow wasn’t as steady as his. How could someone dance so good like this, yet not be able to wave correctly? Your fingers intertwined again, and you leaned more into his body this time. You could barely reach his mid chest, that’s how tall he was. But somehow, you didn’t mind it because you both fit so perfectly – as if two parts of one puzzle.

As you reached the door of your apartment door again, you felt Deja-vu. He looked at your face, studying it carefully and looking back at your eyes, however instead of just looking at your lips this time, he leaned closer and looked back at you – almost as if asking for permission to kiss you. You nodded, and wow.

As his lips drew closer to yours, you could feel him cupping your face with both hands, one of them gradually descending to the back of your head as it found its place in your hair. They were incredibly soft, and almost overpowered you, because you didn’t expect this. As he slid his tongue and slowed himself, you found yourself wanting more, leaning towards him.

Before realizing that you needed to breathe, you started to choke, as he pulled himself back, and chuckled before saying, “Baby girl, take it slow, I’m all yours.”

“Want more,” is all you can say before leaning towards him, wanting to kiss him again. But unlucky for you, he just moved back before laughing again, and this time you pouted and slightly punched his chest.

“Now, you’re just being a brat, baby, you’ll get what I’ll give you, understand?” You could feel his breath fanning your face, and his eyes were no longer twinkling like they did, but instead were full of lust and an animalistic hunger.

‘’Jungkook, please,” you had never really been serious with boys in your high school, and so, this was the first time you had actually felt something down there. It was almost like someone – or Jungkook – lit a fire in your core, and you couldn’t help but just want more.

Fumbling hands opened the door to the apartment and you both tumbled in, messily but both of you didn’t care as you headed to your bedroom. On the way, he messily kissed your neck that made your knees buckle in a way that even walking was difficult.

He tossed you gently on your bed, that was way too big for the apartment, and ran his fingers through your hair, to you neck, and to your chest. He attacked your neck again, and started to form a pattern with his tongue as he pressed harder on some areas and trailed lighter on others.

You couldn’t help but let a whine escape your mouth when he left your neck unattended to take off your sweaters and cardigans till you were only in your undergarments and a see-through white dress.

“Fuck, baby girl, you’re so beautiful,” he said as he attacked your lips again, this time being harsher with his movements, as his tongue slipped in your mouth, doing wonders to his body.

“J-Jungkook, please,” you felt so much, so sudden, and even in this cold, the heat was too much for you – the heat inside you wanted to escape, but you didn’t know how to ask him.

“Yes, baby? Tell me what you want,” his amused voice made it obvious as to what you wanted, but still he continued to tease you, torment you, put you on the edge, “Tell daddy what you want,”

You took in a gasp as he unbuckled your bra strap from behind, free-ing your breasts, and the very next second, tore your fragile dress.

“Hm, tell me baby girl,” he asked you once again, as he took in one of you nipples in his mouth, his tongue encircling your bud, as one of his hands pinched the other one.

“Jungkook I-” you gasped as you felt a slap on your clit, it wasn’t that harsh because he was being careful, and you were still in your panties – but it just turned you on more.

“Baby, you have to call me Daddy, do you understand?” he said as his free wrist kept putting pressure on the top of you panties, making you want to rip them off, so you could finally feel him where you wanted to.

“Yes,” you said, and whined after he took off his mouth from your nipple to look at you, and after a second you understood what you had to say, “Yes Daddy, I understand,”

“Such a good girl for me, so pretty,” he said as he kissed your cheek, and you just couldn’t stop blushing. He was so harsh, yet so gentle at the same time – and it made your head spin.

“Now, be a good baby, and tell Daddy what you want him to do to you,” he said as he neared your ear, “does baby want daddy to wreck her pussy?”

You couldn’t help but shiver before speaking, “I want Daddy to make me feel good,”

His fingers slowly trailed your body, making you moan and buckle your body up towards him. You looked at him, his ears tinged red, and his eyes were darker than before, he almost looked like a fallen angel. He chuckled, looking at you seem so helpless, so fragile.

You were so soft, so ethereal, like an angel from the sky and he was there to taint you, to make you his.

He teased you by playing with the band of your underwear, he put two fingers in your mouth and you instantly slicked them with your saliva, making obscene noises that blended in with your moans. Then he trailed those two fingers right above your covered clit, and you couldn’t help but buckle up again, wanting those two fingers inside of you.

“Be patient, princess,” and it felt like an eternity as he circled his tongue in your belly button and it so, so, so slowly trailed down and down, and he finally took off your panties with his teeth.

“So wet, baby, you’re making a mess,” he commented as he rubbed you with one finger, and using the other one to encircle your hole. He pushed it a little inside, easily as your slick helped him, before looking back at you to see if you were comfortable, and when he got the green light, he continued to push it entirely in, “Such a good baby for me, think you can handle Daddy’s cock?”

You nodded in exasperation, his finger was long and hit all the right spots, but you needed more. He added another finger, while rubbing your clit with more pressure and making circle patterns with his tongue below your belly button. You were so near, so so near, you just needed that one push off the edge.

“Well, you’re going to have to work for Daddy’s cock, baby, think you can take this monster?” He took out his finger with a pop, as soon as he felt you clench down on his finger.

“Daddy, f-fuck me, please,” you moaned, missing his touch. He looked just as a mess as you were, panting and taking off his shirt. You continued to admire his body, he didn’t look buff like gym rats, but instead he had a lean, slightly muscular body.

He continued to tease you by biting his lip and taking off his boxers extremely slowly. You whimpered when his cock was free against his stomach, and it was bigger than any you’ve been before while watching porn. It was even bigger than the dildo your friend bought as a joke for your birthday present, and you had started to doubt if he would fit inside of you.

“Suck Daddy if you want to cum, princess,” he groaned as he pumped himself a couple of times before you put your mouth on his head.

Not having any experience before, you didn’t really know how to start, but you gave little kitten licks at his head, and then took it in your heated mouth. He didn’t taste how you had imagined, instead it was more like a salted caramel toffee you had, it was delicious and you wanted more. You continued to take more, and more of him and suddenly gagged because you couldn’t take anymore – only to realize you had only taken half his dick in your mouth.

“Can’t handle more? I guess you’re too small for Daddy’s big cock, huh?”

The thought of his not fucking you was almost terrifying at this point and you continued to let your throat loose and tale more of him, until you felt his cock twitch, which made you moan. Tears spilled out as he fucked your throat, fast and hard.

“Such a good, pretty baby for daddy, taking my cock so good, princess,” he groaned before pushing in it a couple of times and taking it out.

“Such a naughty baby, making Daddy almost cum,” he kissed you again, tasting his own cum, before dipping down again, “you need to be punished, huh?”

“Daddy, please t-touch me,” you whined, grabbing his hand and putting it in between your thighs, and surprisingly he slapped your inner thigh.

“Being such a bratty baby now, I guess I do need to punish you, you don’t deserve Daddy’s fingers,” he said trailing again lightly all over body, but stopping as soon as he neared where you needed him the most, “touch yourself,”

You were dumbfounded, but when you saw his serious look, you shyly dipped your finger into your heat, and circled them around, but even after two fingers, it just wasn’t enough. You wanted more, you needed more.

“Daddy, please, I c-can’t, I need you,” you cried out while rubbing yourself between your legs, filled with your slick.

“Such a needy princess, always demanded Daddy,” he tsked before adding two fingers inside you, and as you gasped, “but Daddy adores you, so he’ll help his pretty little baby,”

You moaned, not holding back, as he pumped those fingers, and let his tongue work magic on your clit. He continuously pumped his fingers back and forth, while torturing your bud and the heat inside of you kept growing and before you realized it, “Jungkook, I’m going to cum!”

“Cum on my fingers, baby, go on,” his movements became more faster and you trembled under gaze, and unconsciously arched your back before letting yourself loose. It felt like heaven.

Even after this, you had been surprised to see that he didn’t stop and the stimulation was too much for you, as you tried to get away from him, but he held you in place, his wrist holding your pelvic in place.

Despite your whimpering and moans, he took his mouth to your perked up nipple again, and scissored his fingers, to prepare you for his cock. Then, he looked at you, cupped you face and kissed you again, this time more soft, as if you were a china doll, going to break at any given moment.

After letting his dick sit on your bud, he slowly let the head of his cock find your entrance and pushed it slightly. You let out a cry, he was too big for you, but he shushed you and pressed against your lips again before letting it enter little by little. You quickly grab his upper arm and clench it, the pain and pleasure were starting to combine again and you nodded, letting him know that it was okay to continue.

The raw emotion in his eyes was enough to let you go on, and when you were finally full, you looked down only to find you could only take half of him, he was just too big for you.

“Baby, fuck, you’re too tiny, can’t even take all of me,” he groaned before moving slowly, and then finally setting a pace that was safe, but unsatisfactory for you.

“J-Jungkook, f-fas-ter please,” you whined as he started becoming harsher, and his finger started abusing your bud again, and you couldn’t help but realize you were close again. This time, it felt more intense, more powerful.

He was so big, that you could feel him everywhere, it almost felt like he was ripping you apart, but the pleasure was almost overwhelming and the way his cock filled you up made you insatiable – you just wanted more, and more. You could feel your walls being pushed everything he buckled inside you, but he just did it so right.

“Baby, you’re so cute, gonna cum for Daddy?” he kissed your nipple and trailed up to your lips before diving a tongue into your moaning mouth. You nodded, and felt your second release come near.

“J-Jungkook, you feel so good,” you moaned as your walls clenched around his cock, and finally you gushed out, and trembled as you rode your orgasm. Simultaneously, he too, slammed his hips a couple times before cumming deep into you. As he took himself out, cum poured out of you, and he chuckled before taking it and spreading it over your face. Globs of cum covered your red cheeks and entered your mouth.

“You look so pretty with my cum on you face, keep it there until tomorrow morning,” he kissed your nose and coo-ed when you squirmed in embarrassment.

You could feel tugging and pulling when you felt someone wake you up and instinctively, you said, “Just five more minutes.”

“But you said that the last time,” Jungkook looked at you, his breathe fanning your face.

Too close, too close, too close. You looked at other way and tried to close your eyes.

“You’re so cute, like a small puppy,” he coo-ed at you, making your stomach feel things you’ve never felt before.

“I- I’m not like a puppy!” You tried to fight back in your sleep, but couldn’t help the blush forming on your cheeks and ears.

You could feel the dried up cum on your face, and wanted to wash it off, but feeling too sore to move.

“Can’t move, princess? Was Daddy’s cock too much for you, last night?” he coo-ed at you, mumbling about how cute you were, and how he wanted to baby you and make you his.

“I’m too sore, Kookie,” you whined into the pillow and were taken by surprise when he lifted you and carried you to the tub.

“It’s okay, I’ll take care of my little human baby girl,” he said as he laid you in the lukewarm water and washed your body softly.

CLICK HERE FOR PART TWO

You were starting to feel more at home, even more than when you were at Earth.

A/N: That’s a wrap! Hope you like it. Go to master link for more!

#bts smut #Jungkook smut #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts reactions #bts reader insert #bts preferences #bts #jungkook bts #jungkook scenarios #Jungkook #jungkook reader insert #jungkook reaction #jungkook x reader #Jungkook daddy #jungkook fluff

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smolfailure · 4 years ago

Text

FUCK IT, DREAM SMP HOMESTUCK AU

but it's only half shitposts and there are actual Thoughts in there.

You don't need to have read the comic to understand because I tried not to spoil anything major, but it'd help if you knew basic stuff about classpects, SBURB and the hemospectrum.

disclaimer: i'm not a good pixel artist and this is my first actual sprites ever so please be kind to my weird pixels

The Kids:

Tommy

Fundy

Techno

Tubbo

tommy, tubbo and fundy one of the kids because they're the kids in dream smp canon (with fundy being son of wilbur)

techno's there because i want to make a dave strider reference (haha get it because techno's name is also da-- *gets shot) and also because they are both coolguys except instead of using irony, techno has adhd

The Trolls:

Wilbur Soohte (fuschia)

?????? Ehrret (violet)

J????? Shlatt (purple)

Nihacu Niikki (indigo)

Skeppy Diamon (cerulean)

Quacki Tthiey (teal)

Philza Myncra (jade)

Dreame Wastkn (lime disguising as olive)

George Notfou (gold)

Sapphe Nahfpe (bronze)

Badboy Haelow (burgundy)

don't come at me saying only females are allowed to be jades and fuschias; gender is fake and this is an au

more of the AU and the talksprites are under the cut:

Tommy

Lunar sway: Derse. Types in: Red

chaotic. the first person to be introduced.

when he gets introduced instead of the “Zoosmell Pooplord” bit, Tommy is initially going to be the name inputted but then backspaced it and decided that Tommyinnit was better and he was fuming until he’s named Tommy.

Gives me big Blood/Hope vibes. Blood because a lot of the conflict of the dream smp connected to someone breaking his trust or harming the things he cares about, Hope because a lot of the plot of the dream smp stems from Tommy starting shit based on his ideals and what he thinks is right.

the first to instigate fighting against the trolls

bbh contacts him once and tommy keeps cursing until he disconnects from frustration rip

wields Gunkind and his only strife weapon at the beginning is the Vlog gun. He has Gunkind as his strife specibus mainly because he looked up at schlatt and he imitates him.

Fundy

Lunar sway: Prospit. Types in: Orange

it was his idea to play SBURB but only through Dream.

he talks to dream the most among the other trolls fwt stans getcha juice this is the rosemary of the session

dream’s the one giving him exposition about the game so that’s how he knows how to play SBURB.

wilbur trolls fundy once and instantly adopts him.

“You’re my son.” “How does that even work??” “I was one of the people who created your universe. It’s basically the same thing.”

Fundy relents anyway.

Techno

Lunar sway: Derse. Types in: Pink

dave strider but dead-inside voice + rose lalonde english major vibes

he slices the text box when you try to name him "Dave " like in

techno gives me time player vibes (contantly on the move. his skyblock series, his “stays in the pit” monologue,) but also rage vibes (anarchy, the “theseus” monologue, political alignment is Chaos) alas i am not sure what class

uses Tridentkind and claims "it came from god"

it was dream, he accidentally transportalized one of wilbur’s weapon while he testing the transportalizer.

Tubbo

Lunar sway: Prospit. Types in: Green

the jade harley of this session. the only thing keeping them from going apeshit. where would they be without him.

but also jade harley in a sense that he seems nice and wholesome but also don’t fuck with them they can mess you up

Heart/Life vibes??? someone good at classpecting help

i put them in prospit bc of the "tubbo third eye" instead of tubbo having a sixth sense or smth, they see the future from the clouds of skaia when they sleep

wields Stress-relieverKind at some point

bonus: everyone’s actual hair colors

Ideas about the Trolls

no i haven’t done their sprites yet bc it would take so much time and i’m not even sure if people wanna see more of this au skjdkdsakdfkl,, but i have Design Ideas.

events of the dsmp revolution are just a FLARP session drawing parallels to how the homestuck trolls had a FLARP session that spoiler alert: destroyed friendships. dtrio, eret, will are involved. eret betrays will's faction and wilbur's still Bitter over that.

on the context of alternia (highbloods and lowbloods) lmanburg and dreamsmp have their roles SWAPPED. the emancipation theme thing is completely gone since highbloods are in more power than the lowbloods (the dream team) .

wilbur made a faction called l’manburg because he wants a place where he and his fellow highbloods could make drugs vibe.they take a piece of land that was owned by the dream team. in normal circumstances, they shouldve stood down because lowbloods aren't supposed to start shit with highbloods (especially a group of highbloods that has the alternian heir among them) but dream turned it into an activism thing about lowblood rights. the story plays as close as possible without tommy or tubbo in it (which is pretty hard ik but this is the best can do).

like in the dreamsmp revolution, dream kinda let wilbur do what he wants but this time he has more reason to because he’s in a lower caste. dream really only fought back when wilbur announced that he’d be building lmanburg on their land and calling it theirs.

eret betrays wilbur by supporting the lowbloods and wilbur and co. technically won but only because he finally called the drones in, as a reference to how lmanburg absolutely got crushed by the dream team in the smp but technically won. l’manburg keeps the piece of land and the dream team scatter away to find a new home.

wilbur soot's a fuschia because a) he's in a position that has a lot of power, b) yknow how he wrote a song about squids and his thing with sally… yeah.

eret's a violet because nobility!! dream looks down on him because he's ambivalent on fighting for lowblood rights when he's in a power to do so "you just sit there, and you look pretty that's it"

also like eridan he has a minor aesthetic mutation (herobrine eyes) that won't classify him as a mutant.

jschlatt is purple because it makes sense thematically because of the gamzee parallels (a. substance abuse b. if you know what happens in act 6, you know this already but spoiler alert, he ruins the main protagonists' lives) also he's a funnyman he deserves the clown caste

quackity's a teal because he’s a law student. moving on--

ok but for real it also makes sense thematically because he's the one who wrote the thing that tricked schlatt into agreeing also he gets manipulated by schlatt which also draws parallels to certain events in the comic

skeppy and bbh are BEST FRIENDS despite being highblood and lowblood respectively. initially, skeppy just wanted to bother bbh but they grew to be good friends in time. y’know like how they actually becane friends :D

philza minecraft is a jade because dad friend. also works thematically, because spoiler alert he gets to murder a seadweller for going batshit crazy.

he also god tiers early. he dies fighting his quick undead denizen (haha baby zombie) but the consorts of his land carry him to his quest bed because he’s treated them all so well.

dream was initially going to be another caste but then i realized that means i have to make his hoodie something other than green which is unacceptable so its a good thing the fact that he's a lime works out

dream was the one who thought of playing sgrub in the first place- initially only planned to have gogy, sap, and bbh in the session but then realized that they four won't be enough so he invited more into his session

he’s also the first to go godtier ez clap blind speedrun not sure what classpect tho

the only reason why dream avoided being culled at birth for being a limeblood is because his rng is That Good. he quickly picked up the fact that he’s not supposed to exist and masqueraded as an oliveblood and kept mostly to himself to avoid suspicion.

george is still colorblind but he has lazer eyes along with it instead. dream lives with him in the same hive since being a mutant means dream doesn’t get a lusus of his own (dnf fans getcha juice “and they were roommates”)

despite living in the same hive, he never really figures out that dream is a limeblood. possibly because a) he’s colorblind and when he sees dream bleeding he just sees yellow b) he’s just that fucking oblivious and it’s so valid of him.

sapnap’s a bronzeblood mainly because i know he’s the instigator of the pet war with tommy also because i associate him with the color orang in my mind so bronze it is

that’s the end of this long-ass post!! if you have other ideas PLEASE i want to hear them. i don’t know the other streamers i mentioned in here very well so if you have ideas that would be fitting to them like with classpect or lunar sway that would be GREAT.

the only thing i’m confident about in here are the kids’ lunar sways. i’m not an expert in classpects and homestuck lore so there’s that too!! i just wanted to make this post because adhd means that the idea wouldn’t shut up until i finished it. This initially started as a single shitpost edit of tommyinnit talksprite but then the hiveswap 2 trailer came out and that means i have to combine my two hyperfixations.

also i have ideas about potential quadrants but idk how much of that is breaking some streamers’ boundaries about shipping (even the non romantic quads such as kismesistude, morallegiance and auspisticism) so i decided not to include it.

edit: apparently people want more so i made a discord server as a place to brainstorm!! please pm me to join!

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one-small-nightmare · 4 years ago

Text

One Small Nightmare

Based on One Small Dream by @calcium-cat

Chapter 3

A few seconds of silence passed by. The younger version of nightmare blinked and finally spoke. “who.....WHO ARE YOU GUYS?!? W-WHAT IS THIS PLACE.” He pointed at them and then saw his hand “w-wait why is my hand.....” He looked at the rest of his body. “Wait why am I covered in black goo?!? W-what did you guys do to me!?!” “W-we didn’t do anything! Don’t you remember me nightmare?? It’s me, Dream.”

“D-dream....?” The goopy skeleton said. “Yeah it’s me! Don’t you remember?” Dream replied. “You do look like my brother, but how can I be sure that your not pretending to be him?!?” Nightmare crossed his arms. “B-besides he’s not a grown up yet.” Dream tried to think what he should say. He decided to say some of the truth but if he said all of it maybe it would be too much right now. “Well s-something happened that made me a grown up...” Dream Lied about that part. “And why your all goopy is because back at the village...you were guarding our tree because I was doing something else....and then the villagers came....they...cut down the tree and you tried to save an apple but...it was corrupted and you...ate it...” Nightmare looked at Dream with some tears starting to form. “I-I ate......it?” Nightmare asked. Dream nodded with a sad expression. “then you....scared the villagers away and I tried to stop you...but-“ Dream was cut off by Nightmare starting to cry. “D-Dream *sniff* I *hic*...I’m...I’m sorry!“ Nightmare said while crying. He went over and hugged Dream tightly, his tentacles subconsciously curling themselves around them. Dream looked down at nightmare a little bit surprised but then smiled. “Nightmare it’s ok! I forgive you” Dream said with a smile. “Y-you do..?” Nightmare asked. “Of course I do!” Dream said while hugging nightmare. Nightmare wiped his tears. “*sniff* O-ok.....so then where are we.....” Nightmare asked. “We’re at....uh....our new home! With two of my friends..” Dream replied. Nightmare looked at blue and ink. Blue waved while smiling. Ink seemed to still be processing what just happened. “I don’t trust them.........” he finally said. “Don’t worry they’re good! They won’t hurt you!” Dream responded. Nightmare still looked unsure of the other two. Dream spoke “You can..um..stay in my room!” “Ok..” Nightmare replied. Night,are got of the sofa and went over to Dream. He hid behind Dream and looked at Blue and ink. He then followed Dream to his room.

“Well, I wasn’t expecting that to happen...” Blue said. “Right Ink? ........Ink?” Blue looked at Ink. Ink was still staring unblinkingly. “iiinkk” Blue waved his hand in front of Ink’s face. “INK!” blue shouted. “HUH, WHAT, WHERES THE FIRE- oh” Ink said. “You were kind of zoned out” blue told him. “Oh...wait where did nightmare and dream go?” Ink asked. “They went to Dream’s room. Nightmare doesn’t seem to trust us though.” Blue responded. “Then again he hasn’t met us before so we just need to get him warmed up to us!”

Nightmare hurried to catch up to dream, his head hurt and he couldn’t remember much for some reason. Maybe he had a bad headache? “M-my head hurts.......” Nightmare finally said to Dream. “Don’t worry, You can rest in our new bedroom!” Dream replied. They walked down the hallway until they reached a white door with yellow star stickers on it. Dream opened the door and let nightmare go in first. Nightmare slowly stepped into the room looking around as Dream turned the lights on. The room was painted gold and white with a sun and moon glow in the dark sticker on the ceiling surrounded by star stickers that also glowed. He went over to the bed and sat on it, leaning on one of the pillows. “S-so you said your head hurts..?” Dream asked. “It does but I guess it’s not as bad right now. It hurts more when I try to think back on what happened before you found me. But I can’t remember anything from there......” Nightmare responded. “It’s ok, atleast we found you! And your not hurt apart from I guess a headache.”

Dream replied “I guess, but this is all really new. I don’t even know what these things do.” Nightmare lifted up one of his tentacles which where moving around by themselves. “And now I’m also covered in some weird goo and there’s two new monsters here. I thought we were the only skeletons in the village.”

“W-well I saw them one day and they’re nice and we became friends. You don’t have to worry about them!” Dream responded. “I still don’t really trust them...” Nightmare said. Dream walked over to the bed and sat next to Nightmare. Nightmare leaned on Dream. Dream had a slight smile.

Dream opened his phone and texted the star sans group chat. Hey blue, can you make some lunch for all of us including nightmare? Then he quickly added to the text Something EDIBLE. He turned off his phone and looked at his brother, who had fallen asleep. He gently placed laid his brother under the sheets and quietly walked over the door. He turned of the lights, the stickers glowed as Dream silently closed the door.

About an hour passed. Nightmare was thrashing around in the bed. A loud noise had waken him up earlier. He didn’t see Dream anywhere so he tried to go back to sleep but was unable to. He was bored anyways so he decided to get up and explore.

He opened the door a crack to see if anyone was infront of it. No one was there so he opened the rest of the door slowly and stepped outside. He found himself in the corner of the hallway. There were two ways he could go, forward and right. He decided to go forward. The hallway was pretty long with some locked doors until he found a big door. He decided to open it to see what was there, and there was a small library section there. It looked so cool!

He went inside and saw a ladder. It was hard to push but he was strong! He pushed it over to a section of a bookshelf filled with many colorful books. He climbed up the ladder as it wobbled slightly and looked through the books. He saw a book called The Moon and Sun and decided to take it along with two other colorful books. He climbed down and went to go back to the bedroom when he heard a sound coming from the other part of the hallway that he didn’t go to. Whatever was happening over there must’ve been what woke him up in the first place. He decided to leave the books on the bed and then go and investigate. He peeked from a corner and saw one of the skeletons that Dream said were some of his friends. The skeleton was wearing a short blue scarf and had blue eye lights. It looked like he was cooking something. He looked around the room until he found a skeleton with a stain on his cheek bone looking directly at him. “AAAAAH-“ Nightmare yelped while stepping back. “Hey there, Don’t be afraid!” The skeleton responded with a slight worried expression but also slightly smiling. “Ink, remember! He’s not used to us yet.” The other skeleton yelled. Nightmare ran away to him and his brother’s bedroom and closed the door. He could hear some muffled voices as he sat on the bed and turned a lamp on. He didn’t trust those skeletons, he would’ve stood his ground and been brave. It’s just that they caught him off guard is all.

He heard the bedroom door open and braced himself. He then realized that it was just his brother coming in. “Dream!” Nightmare ran over to him hugging his leg. Dream smiled. “Lunch is ready!” Dream said.

“Lunch?” Nightmare asked while looking up at Dream. “Yeah! One of my friends prepared lunch for all of us!” Dream replied.

“O-oh. I saw them earlier, one of them spoke to me.” Nightmare said. “Oh yeah, Ink said that he saw you and said hi but then you ran away.” Dream responded.

Nightmare became a bit embarrassed. “W-Well they just scared me a little bit is all. I-I wasn’t expecting him to talk to me all of a sudden.”

“Well, come on! Let’s go eat lunch!” Dream said. “O-ok..” nightmare said with a bit of an unsure expression.

He followed Dream to the dining room where the other two skeletons were waiting. The one with the blue scarf waved at him. The other one named Ink smiled at him. He sat down as Dream handed him a sandwich for lunch with a cup of orange juice. “Thank you...” he said to his brother.

Dream sat down and they began to eat. Nightmare took a bite out of the sandwhich. It was good! Then the skeleton with the blue scarf spoke to him. “Hi there!”

“H-hi..” Nightmare shyly replied. “My names blue! I made lunch for us. And this is ink, he’s the one who spoke to you earlier.” Blue said. Ink waved and then spoke. “Sorry if I scared you!”

“I-it’s ok...” Nightmare said. “I just wasn’t expecting-“ he was interrupted by him sneezing. “Bless you!” Everyone said. Nightmare was a bit embarrassed. He also coughed a little bit and sneezed again. His nose was getting stuffy. “Nightmare are you ok?” Dream asked worriedly. “I-I...I’m not sure....” nightmare felt a bit dizzy.

“Nightmare? Nightmare!” He heard dreams voice say as it faded away and he passed out.

This one is a bit of a long one but I finished it! Hope you guys enjoy :3

Also remember to go check out one small Dream!!

Previous Chapter ( 2 )

#undertale fic #one small nightmare #story #Swapped OSD #OSN #osd #babybones #one small dream #undertale au

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lovelylogans · 4 years ago

Text

spring cleaning

there’s a pack rat in the family. who it is will not surprise you.

part of the wyliwf verse.

warnings: food mentions, alcohol mentions, general messiness, jokes about hoarding

pairings: patton/virgil, offscreen logan/roman

word count: 2,412

notes: hi! this is just a quick little fic as i beta and finish off the next chapter of debutante. this is based off the gilmore girls season three episode twelve “lorelai out of water” cold open. takes place the spring after the main storyline, after alliance but before debutante.

⁂

virgil’s phone buzzes at 10:13 am on a sunny spring sunday. he pauses just after he drops off the brunch plates for mrs. torres, babette, and east side tilly, digging around in his back pocket to squint at his recent texts.

logan sanders: Please help.

any other time, this kind of text would probably send anxiety flooding his veins like ice water. as he’s been warned, sure, he’s a little anxious that he’s misreading the situation, but he shakes that aside and snorts.

“called it,” he mutters under his breath, before he wipes his hands on his apron and types out christ, you’re folding easy this year. is that a new record?

a brief pause. then, No, the record was twenty-four minutes. To be fair, that took place when I was ten years old, we were moving into the house, and you were already going to be involved, so I perhaps I should propose that does not count against my spring cleaning record.

ah, that’s right. god, helping patton move had kind of been a nightmare. helping anyone move is a bit of a nightmare, but with patton there’s a whole new layer of shenanigans.

Another buzz. Also, I need this to be hastened along. I have a Socratic seminar in English tomorrow, and though we have settled on a tentative truce I refuse to let Dee achieve the highest grade in the class.

he shoots back i’ll be there asap.

“jean,” he calls to the counter, but jean, having been warned as well, waves him off.

“i got it, at least he waited till the we hit the between-masses lull.”

“you’re the best,” he says, hanging up his apron and ignoring mrs. torres’ hoots about his arms—he's like ninety percent sure she’s spiking her own orange juice so she can have a screwdriver with her pancakes but he hasn’t caught her with a flask in hand yet—and heads out the door.

the citizens of sideshire are fully soaking in the pleasure of a sunny spring day—it’s one of those days, where the weather’s warming up slowly, but there’s sure to be more cold snaps before they fully settle into spring, so lots of people are taking advantage of it. families are sprawled with picnic blankets in the grassy town square. the “long-haired freak” (taylor’s nickname, not his. virgil’s pretty sure his name is dave, but also, he’s not totally sure his name is dave, and as such usually avoids any complications by saying “hey, man,” whenever virgil sees him) is out hawking fruits and vegetables from his garden. lots of people are out on walks, some with earbuds or headphones on, some calling out jolly greetings to other people taking advantage of a blue sky and temperatures that are soaring above freezing.

“hey, virgil.”

“hey, felix,” virgil says, craning his neck to catch sight of—well, he guesses felix and riley are technically his tenants? but that always feels weird to say—his neighboring business owners. felix is busy making sure a promotional poster’s taped to the window. “how’re things?”

“ah, y’know, y’know,” felix says, waving their hands around. “weather’s warming up, so we’re getting into busy season. guess people want to be able to flaunt new ink in the warmer weather, y’know?”

“hey, speaking of—” virgil says.

“oh, yeah,” felix says, scratching at the half of their head that was once shaved bald but is now growing in stubbly. “you wanna have riley do one this time? they can draw up some sketches for you, if you want. or i can, if you want, but it might be a minute ‘cause i’m all hands on deck for this massive full-back piece.”

“nah, riley’ll be cool, it’s been a minute since they’ve done one for me,” virgil says. “i’ll drop by later with some reference photos, ideas and stuff.”

“i’ll make sure they’re refreshed on what your style is before the consultation,” felix says. “appreciate the business.”

“appreciate you and your spouse taking over this empty shop so taylor didn’t get a chance to,” virgil returns, as he usually does whenever felix or their riley thanks him for something. he’s really awkward about accepting gratitude, he’s working on that with emile and patton.

“god, could you imagine taylor next door,” felix says with a theatric shudder. “bad enough he runs half the town.”

“i’ll call tomorrow to make the appointment?”

felix flashes him a thumbs up, and virgil raises a hand in farewell as he continues on his way.

he ends up pushing his sleeves up to his elbows as he walks to the sanders’ house, occasionally saying hey to other residents of sideshire, or tilting his face up to the sun.

this winter’s been brutal, even worse than it usually is for the northeast, with absurd amounts of blizzards and ice. on the days where it wasn’t shoveling ridiculous amounts of snow on the whole town, the sky had been gray and overcast, and what little sun there was could barely stream weakly through the clouds.

but now, the sun sinks softly into his exposed skin, warming him without overheating him thanks to the breeze, carrying the sweet scent of tentatively blooming flowers planted by particularly audacious gardeners.

it is a perfect, lovely spring day.

by the time he gets to the cheerful yellow clapboard house, he’s taken enough deep, calming breaths to ensure that he is a calming presence. he ascends the stairs of the wraparound porch—oh, huh, looks like patton or logan’s making an attempt at being a gardener, that looks like mountain mint—and knocks lightly on the front door.

“please come in,” logan shouts, sounding exasperated, and virgil obligingly pushes the door open.

he toes off his shoes, even as he overhears patton’s voice, cajoling.

“hug-a-world! c’mon, you’ve gotta remember your hug-a-world!”

hug-a-world, virgil mouths to himself, before it comes back to him in sudden, vivid technicolor and he rounds the corner.

and, sure enough, surrounded by the detritus of the sanders home, patton and logan sit in a hastily-cleared space in the middle of their living room, patton holding a stuffed ball tight to his chest.

“of course i remember the hug-a-world,” logan says, still with that tone of exasperation, but lessened now at the sight of a beloved childhood toy.

“you can’t make me throw away your hug-a-world,” patton declares viciously, which would almost be believably threatening if he were not clutching a stuffed ball made to look like a globe to his chest, and if his curly hair was not sticking up in a configuration that virgil thinks of as chaotically unruly, and if he were not wearing a pink-and-blue sweater he usually busts out around easter, and if someone did not know patton as a person. “you learned all seven of your continents on hug-a-world!”

see, without fail, almost every year patton gets suckered into the whole concept of the spring clean. and, without fail, logan or virgil will try to point out that he does this every year, and patton insists no, really, this time for sure he’ll get rid of some of the clutter around this house, it’s about time!, and then he gets sidetracked getting attached to objects he finds that he suddenly cannot bear to get rid of, despite the fact that said objects have typically been buried away in a dark closet all the rest of the year.

which means that logan and virgil sit with him and try to point that out, and patton wavers, before he decides to keep or donate or trash it, and it seems like it’s going okay, until the next thing he touches turns out to be another thing that he suddenly cannot bear to give up.

it’s gotten a little better since that time they introduced the marie kondo method, but also, that much worse, because of course he insists that everything sparks joy!

but this is way more mess than usual. there are cardboard boxes and piles of clothes and bits and bobs that are in piles that come up to his ribs. virgil squints it at it suspiciously.

“attic,” logan says wearily, in explanation. “he got boxes out of the attic.”

oh, shit, the attic. god, that thing is stuffed to the brim with boxes, no wonder the living room looks like someone upended the odds-and-ends drawer for a giant into the house.

“but—c’mon,” patton says, in that same sweetly coaxing tone that usually makes them all throw up their hands and leave the rest of this spring cleaning mess for next year’s spring clean. he holds out the hug-a-world to logan. “hold it. marie says so.”

“marie does not realize that she has a special case with my hoarder of a father and therefore should customize the approach of sparks joy, because you have too wide a definition,” logan says, but he reaches out and takes the hug-a-world with both hands anyways.

virgil examines logan holding it, thinking suddenly of a much tinier logan with a gap in his front teeth holding the same toy in the same way, though the fabric had been much more vibrant shades of blue and green then. there had been a solid stretch of time that the hug-a-world had been the toy that logan had hugged falling asleep, back in the poolhouse. he’d taken the hug-a-world to the diner and to school and all around the inn and to the princes’ apartment and back again.

a side of logan’s mouth twitches up, and then, as if suddenly conscious of it, he forces the corners of his mouth to turn down as he stares at it.

“remember?” patton repeats, staring at logan and the hug-a-world fondly. “we used to take turns to squeeze it as tight as we could and then wherever our pinkies would end up, that’s where we were going to go together when you grew up.”

“yes,” logan says, and then loses the fight against his mouth, because it twitches up into a smile again. “many a trip to uzbekistan was planned that way.”

“look!” patton says, pointing and tilting his head. “that’s canada, then, where’d your other one get you?”

logan moves his other pinky in order to squint at the faded fabric. “i believe that’s cambodia. possibly vietnam, i was rather splitting the border.”

“why not both?” patton says pragmatically, or as pragmatically as he can sound planning a potential trip based off hugging a ball.

logan hesitates, holding the ball.

“look,” patton says. “hey, how about virgil helps clean it up, and the hug-a-world can live in your room?”

logan chews at the inside of his lip.

“if it sparks joy,” patton sing-songs.

logan heaves a sigh.

“the hug-a-world will live in my room, then,” he says, before looking to virgil. “we’ve started a pile for you right here,” and pats a pile of what mostly looks like clothes that can be either repaired, repurposed, or sneakily donated.

virgil takes a breath, and says, “i’ll crack open a window and put on some music, then. patton, you take your allergy medicine today?”

patton tilts his head to think about it.

“that’s a no,” virgil says. “i’ll grab it on the way. water, snacks? we’re gonna be here for a while.”

“are we?” logan says doubtfully, twisting to look at him.

“we are finishing spring clean this year!” patton insists. “i mean it this time!”

logan arches his eyebrows at virgil, and virgil mouths play along, and logan sighs before he turns back to the pile, pulling out an old jacket at random.

“i have never seen you wear this. it should be donated.”

“that was from raf, we can’t just toss it!” patton cries out in dismay, and virgil heads for the kitchen.

he fills up three glasses of water, chops up some celery and apples, fills up three mini ramekins with peanut butter, and sets it all on a tray, along with the round white pill that patton takes for his allergies.

he plugs in his phone and scrolls to a roman-made playlist, lowering the volume so that they’ll be able to hear each other, and proceeds to make his meandering way around the piles of Stuff as best he can without knocking anything over.

on his way, he moves to crack open the windows of the living room, allowing the floral-scented air to waft into the messy room, to hear the chirping of the birds under patton and logan’s debating.

he pushes aside a pile of old books on the coffee table and sets the tray down, mostly ignored as logan manages to triumph and tosses the jacket into a box labeled DONATE.

virgil settles down next to his pile, sitting in criss-cross-applesauce, and gosh all of the clutter of patton and logan’s lives looms over them like a mountain at this angle.

“okay,” virgil says encouragingly. “good, that’s good! raf’s old jacket will probably make some other teenager very happy to have it.”

patton sighs, staring after the jacket. “yeah, i guess.”

“this is good,” virgil says stubbornly, before tugging at a piece of fabric sticking out at random and unearthing a blanket.

“oh, i was wondering where that got off to!” patton says, delighted.

“i thought that got lost in the moving shuffle,” virgil agrees, because the last time he saw this he was pretty sure it was tossed over the back of their rented apartment couch.

“so this blanket has not been washed in at least six years,” logan says.

“well, that can be fixed!” patton points out. “i say keep.”

“we’re never going to finish,” logan groans.

“of course we’re gonna finish!” patton says.

“yeah, logan,” virgil says unconvincingly. “listen to your dad.”

patton beams at him, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek; logan rolls his eyes, before he turns his attention to the blanket.

“so, you claim keep for your room,” logan says. “you already have so many blankets.”

“well, we can always use more blankets!” patton points out. “worse comes to worse, we’ll put it in the linen closet.”

logan tilts his head, before he sighs, and places it in a pile of other fabrics that they seem to have decided to keep.

“all right, fine,” he says, then fishes out another piece of fabric. “next item—”

“look how fast we settled that!” patton says brightly.

“pretty fast,” virgil agrees dutifully.

“we’ll totally finish spring clean this year,” patton says confidently.

(they do not finish spring clean this year.)

#my post #text #my fic #my fanfiction #the sideshire files #sideshire files #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #moxiety

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lluvguts · 3 years ago

Text

Cool Blue ; Chapter Four

⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚

hold you here, my loveliest friend

⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚

☽ warnings: none

☽ fic masterlist

⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚

The air in Alberto's room was stuffy and filled with the uneasy smell of the sweat his bare skin on the sheets left after a fitful sleep. He flung an arm from the blankets to fiddle with the window latch until his sluggish muscles threw it back and open, letting fresh ocean air inside.

He opened his eyes. His face was covered by the white bedsheet like a dead man or just a boy realizing his mistakes much too late and he quickly threw that off of him, too. With the window open and the bottom of the frame just inches from Alberto's nose, nothing stopped the sunlight streaming across his feverish skin in beams and the shadow of the white chipped frame to cast a thin shadow as relief to his sleepy eyes.

The sleep was thick in his green eyes, as he suffered through an uncomfortable dreamless night spent mostly staring at the ceiling with Luca's face burning a hole behind his eyelids.

Oh, God. Luca.

A quick glance at the nightstand was all it took. The polaroid photos were undeniably there. Their white corners, their colored reflections in the daylight. Making those feelings from the night before stir again.

"Alberto? Are you awake yet?" Massimo had his hand splayed flat to the door and knocked.

He jumped at the sound of his father's voice behind the door. Alberto cursed himself for not having a clock in his room, even though he was fervent on the opinion that they were useless and dumb and didn't look nearly as stunning as the sun overhead to tell the time. But now, with the sky streaming in and more worried knocks sounding through the thin walls, Alberto ran a hand through his hair and guessed it was nearing noon. Why hadn't Massimo woken him at dawn with Giulia, to begin the day's tasks? It wasn't like him to allow Alberto to sleep in...

Alberto rolled out from the sweaty confines of his bed and stood, wobbly, to respond.

"Uh, yeah, Papa? Sorry, was I supposed to be up earlier?" He said as he went to the door to open it for Massimo. He saw his father, fully dressed and looking hesitant while Alberto was still in his pair of thin cotton shorts and an equal expression of confusion.

Massimo swapped his worried frown for a quick smile, and affectionately ran his hand across the top of Alberto's messy curls.

"It's okay, son. I figured you, uh," His hand fell back to his side, fidgety, uneasy. "...Needed the rest."

"Yeah..." Alberto let out a high, nervous laugh. His voice was still groggy and dry from sleep, coming out sounding wrong. He coughed, only making their already thick silence even thicker, then stared up at Massimo. He desperately needed a glass of water and maybe a shirt just to top things off.

"Why don't we...uh..." Massimo tried again, searching for the right things to say in the wooden floorboards. "...Have breakfast? Go get dressed and I'll start the coffee."

"Okay," Alberto placed one of his feet behind the other, still standing there awkwardly. Wasn't it a little late for breakfast?

Machiavelli slipped through the gap in the door as Alberto closed it, unprompted, and left Massimo to get the coffee grinder. He sighed against the door frame, scooping up Machi though the cat had his protests.

"Santa Mozzarella..." He breathed, burying his sunburned nose into Machiavelli's neck. The phrase reminded him immediately of Giulia and he smiled around the cat's fur.

He carried Machi in one arm as he, in his dazed, barely awake state, yanked open dresser drawers looking for a shirt and, finding none to his liking, slammed them half-shut.

His head felt too heavy to teeter above the rest of his body, like all of the empty dreams he'd had that night were really just static filling up his brain. The cat growled at the sharp sound of the dresser, and equally at Alberto's annoyance so early in the morning.

"What am I gonna do, huh?" Alberto set the Machiavelli down on his bed and pulled on a customary tank top. Machi burrowed into his sheets, letting out all sorts of odd noises.

He growled deep as he sniffed the bed, then pawed angrily at Alberto's pillow, looking so cross at the linen for no apparent reason until it clicked.

"I know you smell him," Alberto bent down and stroked Machi's raised fur to calm him down. "I can't get it off."

The cat glared at Alberto out of the corners of his orb-like yellow eyes. He continued to paw and swipe at the pillow, hissing and huffing the whole time.

"That's Luca," Alberto kept his voice low and pointed at his bedsheets. "What you're smelling? Yeah. That's all sea monster."

Machi blinked slowly and stopped for a moment. His tail had been lashing wrinkles into the sheets but it hovered, flickering his interest. Then he returned full force to his havoc and dug his claws into the mattress.

Sighing, Alberto left the cat to destroy his bedsheets and went into the kitchen. Massimo was humming gently a tune Alberto didn't know with his back turned, the coffee maker grumbling and gurgling to his right while he sliced oranges with his hand. He had a cookbook propped to one side of the orange to steady it as he brought the knife down.

Alberto stepped in to help him, pulling the book away and holding the half of the orange.

"There," Alberto said, smiling.

Massimo chuckled and handed Alberto the knife. "Thanks. How about you cut the rest of these up for us, and I'll pour the coffee?"

"Sounds good to me."

Massimo shuffled around Alberto in the small kitchen space, grabbing coffee mugs off nailed-in hooks and pouring out generous amounts into both of their espresso cups.

Alberto tried to focus on cutting up the fruit but he was still stuck on the fact that Massimo, who woke up with the sun and couldn't spare a moment to rest, let him sleep through the early-morning fishing?

But Massimo broke the silence before he could ask. He slid one cup over to Alberto, then pat his back, motioning for the dining table.

"Listen, figlio. I already did the fishing for the morning. All we'll have to do is check the nets in a few hours."

Alberto arranged the orange and grapefruit wedges into little rows on his plate, then bit his lip and re-arranged them. "I figured that much."

Massimo grunted and took one of his oranges. "Do you know why we're sitting here, Alberto?"

"Uh...no?" He said in that annoying high keen again, unable to keep his voice level. He really didn't know why Massimo wasted his own time doing all of the work himself...just to have a late breakfast with him? Was he in trouble?

"Am I in trouble for something, Papa?" Alberto voiced his internal worry. The grapefruit flesh he'd torn from the rind was splayed flat and bitter on his tongue.

"Oh, no. Of course not." He smiled through his moustache, a bit of citrus juice clinging to the bottom of it. "I just wanted to tell you that I understand. And that I'm here for you."

He blinked. "Understand what?"

Massimo didn't miss a beat--even though Alberto knew that under the table his hand was clenched. "I understand that...you're getting older, and as you get older there are some...changes, and that's okay. You don't have to tell me about her unless you're ready."

Alberto inhaled the espresso wrong and he felt it burn through his nostrils. He coughed harshly, holding one hand to his throat and spluttered. "What?"

Getting older? Changes? Most of all, girl? Was he walking around blindfolded? He might have only been born with one arm...but he certainly had two fully-functioning eyes.

Massimo put his hand back on the table and took his mug, dainty in his large grip. "I should have seen the signs a long time ago. Never home...the weird smell...how nervous you are at dinner...I see it now, Alberto. So, tell me about her, yeah?"

Alberto paled. With Massimo, there was no way around this. What he said was final, so if he thought Alberto had a female love interest, then he had a female love interest.

"I...uh, she's--" Alberto took another scalding swig of coffee to distract himself. He felt a blush creep up, in the least delicate way possible, on his cheeks. "She's really great."

"What's her name?" Massimo picked at the fruit on the table, eyes flickering from the plate to his squirrelly son.

"Lucia!" Alberto blurted out, chest tight. Massimo barked out a hearty laugh and squeezed Alberto's trembling hand across the table.

"Don't be nervous, my boy! This is great news! And what does she look like?"

He felt like a fish out of water, which made him think of Luca, which made his cheeks redden, so he was stuck with his lips parted, completely stunned.

"She um...has really pretty...uh, eyes?" Alberto tried.

Massimo's dark gaze sparkled with joy for his son and his hold on Alberto's knuckles tightened. "That's okay, Alberto. Don't worry. I won't tease you over your lovely Lucia..."

Oh, God. Alberto gulped and scanned the room for something, anything to look at other than Massimo. The orange rinds. The coffee stain on the napkin from a previous breakfast. Giulia's sock left balled up in the corner by the humming ice box.

"...We'll have to meet her!" Massimo laughed. He'd been talking while Alberto was panicking, and his green eyes widened in horror as he took in the words.

"Oh, I don't think that's the best idea--"

"Nonsense!" Massimo stood from the table, collecting their plates. "Any girl who likes mio figlio will have to meet the rest of the Marcovaldo family! But, Alberto,"

He set the plates down again in his burst of excitement, leaning with serious eyes and a serious, but equally scary hard set of his mouth. "You two aren't...you know--"

If there were more espresso to drink in Alberto's mug, he would have gratefully choked on it.

"--Because if you are, son, I should know about it."

Was this nightmare ever going to end?

"T-That's okay Papa, because that's never g-going to happen!" Alberto almost shouted.

"Oh, I wouldn't say never. It all will happen in it's own time--"

"May I be excused...?" Alberto glanced up wildly at his father, blushing and sweating and hating every additional second this conversation lasted. "Please? I...I have to get something in town! Flowers!" What was he thinking? "Uh...yeah! Flowers for Luca--Lucia!"

"Oh, well..." Massimo straightened up, some of his cheeriness dampened. "Okay. Be sure to grab some for the house too, yes?"

Alberto made a beeline for his bedroom. "Yes, Papa."

"Girls love roses, Alberto. Get her some roses."

"Roses! Got it," Alberto cataloged that information away into his brain for never-use. He felt unexplainable guilt for stringing Massimo on like that, but what else was there to do? Try and convince him that, just like he was born missing an arm, Alberto was born attracted to something....different? And, just as daunting, being made another way didn't mean it was wrong?....Right?

Machi peeked his head out of the mound he'd created of Alberto's sheets, mewling when he examined the worry that creased his brow. He grabbed his wallet on the nightstand, making a pointed effort to avoid looking at the photos. Knowing they were there made him acknowledge the fact that whatever he was feeling was there, too. It was real. He was real.

"Yeah, Yeah. Soak it up while you can," Alberto waved an arm at Machiavelli now curled up around Luca's smell, then shut the door. "Little traitor."

/ / /

With the sun rising higher in the sky, it was the perfect time to sit outside the thin streets of Portorosso to smile and relax--unless you were Alberto. Who, after finding a bouquet of wildflowers for the kitchen window at the negozio di fiori, was sitting in a patio chair overlooking the fountain with his knees pulled to his chest. The flowers sat on the circular table next to him, catching the sun's warmth and sparkling through the clear plastic they were wrapped in. Alberto sighed and let the side of his cheek rest on one knee, twiddling with the metal holes grated into the table. A finger brushed the thin petals, muttering to himself and replaying the conversation he'd had with Massimo for the last hour. He didn't want to admit it, but he missed Luca. Maybe after he dropped off the flowers at home he could go see him again.

"Waiting for your special someone?"

Alberto jumped and sat upright, looking at the shadow that had intermingled with the honeycomb of the patio table, then back up at the voice. It was an older woman, who despite the heat had a thick shawl draped along her shoulders, smiling around greying brown hair.

The woman was fixed on Alberto with a knowing glance at the flowers.

"Oh! Uh--yes, signora." He dug one hand nervously into the back of his hair. The streets were next to empty a half-second ago...

She reached down to take Alberto's hand. "Signora Aragosta."

"Alberto Marcovaldo," He shook her hand, surprised by her skin unmarred by sun or wrinkles, and the thin sheen of sweat that beaded on her knuckles. Signora Aragosta let out a small laugh, still bent down to stare at Alberto.

She sniffed the air, dark eyes flickering around at the buildings behind him.

"How long have you known the sea folk?" She asked him in a hushed voice, covering the side of her mouth with the shawl so as not to draw any attention to herself.

"S-Sea folk?" Alberto leaned back in his chair, not at all enjoying where this was going. Did she work with Ercole's parents? Did she somehow find Luca...?

She tapped Alberto's bare shoulder, freckled and tanned. "Don't think you can fool me, sweetheart. I could smell him on you from a mile away."

"You...can? Is it really that, uh, obvious?" Alberto whispered back while gaping at the old woman. "And how did you--you know it's a him?"

Signora Aragosta giggled to herself. "Relax, boy. To everyone else," She ironically gestured to the empty street. "The scent is just regular old fish. The smell of a male's scales is much stronger, more potent. Not as sweet as a female's...But I'm a bit surprised that I've found it again, after all these years."

"Found what again?" Alberto couldn't help but ask, knowing it was private but this woman had decided to share anyway.

She kept her gaze low and ruminative, looking to the flowers as she spoke. "I almost forgot what they smelled like, so strong it burns your nose, no?" She laughed a bit and playfully flicked her own nose. "I miss her every day."

"Your own...friend?" Alberto said carefully.

Signora Aragosta steeled herself and tipped up her chin, looking stern. But perhaps all Alberto did was mistake her graveness for grief. "My wife."

"And she's? You're--?" Alberto couldn't get the words out he was so startled by this news.

"Oh, hush. I'll just tell you," She pulled out the chair opposite him and settled in.

#luca #luca movie #luca fanfiction #luca and alberto #luberto #luca x alberto #alberto scorfano #luca paguro #luca 2021 #disney luca #luberto fanfiction

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thewidowsghost · 3 years ago

Text

The Daughter of the Sea - Chapter 4

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

I have weird dreams full of barnyard animals and horiffic flashes of golden light.

When she sees my eyes open, she asks, "What will happen at the summer solstice?"

"What?" I manage to croak.

Annabeth - I presumed - looks around, as if afraid someone would overhear. "What's going on? What was stolen? We've only got a few weeks!"

"I'm sorry," I mumble. "I don't . . ."

Someone knocks on the door, and the girl quickly fills my mouth with the pudding.

. . .

The next time I wake, the blonde girl is gone.

A husky blonde dude, like a surfer, stands in the corner of the bedroom keeping watch over me. He has blue eyes - at least a dozen of them - on his cheeks, his forehead, the backs of his hands.

. . .

On the table next to me is a tall drink. It looks like iced apple juice, with a green straw, and a paper parasol sticks through a maraschingo cherry.

My hand is so weak I almost drop the glass once I get my fingers around it.

"Careful," says a voice.

Maybe I'd had a nightmare. Maybe Mom and Percy are okay. We're on vacation and we'd stopped here at this big house for some reason. And . . .

"You saved my life," Grover says. "I...well, the least I could do...I went back to the hill. I thought you might want this."

Reverently, Grover places the shoe box in my lap.

Inside is a black-and-white bull's horn, the base jagged from being broken off, the tip splattered with dried blood.

It hadn't been a nightmare.

"I -" I falter, looking at the horn.

Grover shifts uncomfortably. "You've been out for two days. How much do you remember?" he asks.

"Mom. Percy. Are they really . . ."

Grover looks down.

My family is gone, nothing should be beautiful. Everything should be black and cold.

Thunder rolls across the clear sky.

As Grover struggles to get his hoof back in the fake foot, I think, Well, that settles it.

Grover is a saytr. I am ready to bet that if I shaved his curly brown hair, I'd find tiny horns on his head. But I was too miserable to care that saytrs exist, or even minotaurs.

All that meant was that my mom and brother had been squeezed into nothingness, dissolved into yellow light.

I'm alone.

Grover is still sniffling, and my grief subsides for a heartbeat.

I say softly, "It wasn't your fault."

"Yes, it was. I was supposed to protect Per-" the saytr's voice falters.

"Did my mother ask you to protect him?" I ask.

"No. But that's my job. I'm a keeper. At least...I was."

"But why..." I suddenly feel dizzy, my vision swimming.

"Don't strain yourself," Grover says gently. "Here." The saytr helps me hold my glass and puts the straw to my lips.

Before I know it, I'd drained the glass. I stare into it, sure I'd just had a warm drink, but the ice cubes hadn't even melted.

"Was it good?" Grover asks.

I nod.

"What did it taste like?" Grover sounds so wistful that I feel guilty.

"Sorry," I apologize. "I should've let you taste."

His eyes got wide. "No! That's not what I meant. I just...wondered."

"Chocolate-chip cookies," I reply. "My mom's. Homemade."

He sighs. "And how do you feel?"

"Like I could throw my stepfather a hundred yards."

"That's good," he says. "That's good. I don't think you could risk drinking any more of that stuff."

"What do you mean?"

Grover takes the empty glass from me gingerly, as if it's dynamite, and sets it back on the table. "Come on. Chiron and Mr. D are waiting."

. . .

The porch wrapped all the way around a farmhouse.

My legs feel wobbly, trying to walk that far; Grover offers to carry the Minotaur horn, but I hold on to it. I'd paid for that souvenir the hard way. I couldn't let it go.

As we come around teh opposite end of the house, I catch my breath.

I study the blond girl for a moment, and, as if she felt my eyes on her, she looks at me, amused. I feel my cheeks darken a little, and I turn to study the two other men.

I recognize the tweek jacket, the thinning brown hair, and the scraggly beard that Percy had described to me.

"Uh, thanks," I reply. I scoot a little farther away from him because if there was one think I'd learned from my stepfather, it's now to tell when an adult had been hitting alcohol.

"Annabeth?" Mr. Brunner calls to the blond girl.

Annabeth steps forward and Mr. Brunner introduces us. "This young lady nursed you back to health, Percy. Annabeth, my dear, why don't you go check on (Y/n)'s bunk? We'll be putting her in Cabin Eleven for now."