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clearlydiamondz · 4 years ago

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Make Up For It

Erik Stevens x OC

Part ONE

p.2

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After a year of not seeing Erik, Jada has been faced with him in a sticky situation.

Warnings: Blood, Mention of Medical Procedure

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Jada laid back into the bathtub, letting the smell of the sweet candles fill her senses. She needed this.. in so many ways than others. After working 12 hours all week this week in the ICU, she was finally off for the next three days. She spoiled herself with some crab legs and dirty rice. She caught up in some of her reality T.V and her favorite anime (7 Deadly Sins), and now she was relaxing in her bath tub.

She was dozing off until she heard the noise coming from her downstairs. Instantly she jolted up. At first she just thought it was her imagination until she heard whispers. She got out the bathtub before walking into her bedroom and grabbing her pistol that her brother King, got her to protect herself. She wrapped the black robe around her body before slowly opening her door.

She walked down the stairs, holding the pistol taking it off of safety. She turned the corner to hear the talk get louder. “I thought you said she was off these days?” She recognized that voice. It was her brother.

“I thought she was here.” She recognized that voice too. How could she not? That was her ex-boyfriend. Erik Stevens. Gosh she missed him. How could she not? They’ve been together since high school. She was his right hand women while he ran his empire. But after a really bad break up, she cut all ties with him. Now it’s been almost year since she last seen him.

“Bruh let’s just dip.” That was a voice she did recognize.

She turned on the lights before saying, “Give me a reason why I shouldn’t put a bullet in each of your knee caps.” she said. That was until she saw Erik and the other boy holding her brother up. “What the hell happened to him?” she said putting the gun on safety and placing it on the side table.

“We were at the club, next thing you know gun shots were being ring. He got hit.” Erik said as she closed her eyes. He was lying out his ass.

“Lay him down on the couch.” he was laid down as he groaned. She unbuttoned his shirt seeing the wound. “What time did this happen?”

“Not even 30 minutes ago..” her brother said as she nodded licking her teeth.

“So you guys think I’m stupid.. right?” she said looking at the two of them.

“What are you even talking about?”

“If this happened 30 minutes ago, why is there brown dried up blood already around the wound. And you can see around the area where the skin in starting to die.” she said pointing it out. “I know you like the back of my hand, you’re lying to me.” she snapped standing up pointing at Erik.

“We ain’t lying it’s-”

“I’m sorry.. who are you?” she asked the random man.

“Oh, I’m DJ.” he said as she looked between the three of them. She stood up.

“Tell me what happened.” she said looking at the three, as Erik rolled his eyes.

“Bruh we’re not fucking lying.”

“Okay.. play dumb then. I’ma play along with ya ass.” she walked to her kitchen, grabbing her house phone dialing 911. “Wait wait, don’t call 911!” King exclaimed. He looked at Erik nodding his head.

“We were doing a raid between one of the rivals, it went left. They hit him and we just came back into town.” Erik said as she closed her eyes.

“Why didn’t you guys go to a fucking hospital!” she yelled at him as King scoffed.

“And risk going to jail. No thank-”

“Shut up King! Do you not understand that you could have died! I don’t give a fuck about none of that shit!” she snapped at him. King sat back, listening to his sister. “And the fuck am I suppose to do? I don’t have supplies here?” she asked Erik tilted his head in confusion.

“What about the emergency kit we had.”

“I threw it out. Supplies in there was expired. And why would I keep knowing that you-” she stopped herself before looking at her brother. “You need to take him to the hospital. The wound is already getting affected.” she told them as King groaned.

“Jada look, I understand you’re mad at us but-”

“This does not have anything to do with being mad, look at my fucking brother Erik.” she snapped at him.

“Jada… please. I can’t go back to jail man.” King said to her. She saw the tears building up in his eyes as she scratched her forehead. “Someone stay here with him, we can go to the pharmacy up the road to get supplies.” she said turning around. She walked back up the stairs to get dress.

“I’ll go with her.” DJ said as Erik scoffed.

“Nah nigga.. I see the way you lookin at her and that shit ain’t happening.” Erik said. DJ stared down at Erik crossed his hands over his chest. “You tryna fuck my-”

“Aye.. first of all that’s my fucking sister you’re talking about. And two, I’m right here.” King said as Erik rolled his eyes. Jada came back down with grey stacked sweatpants, a black tank top, and black flip flops. She had a white rag in her hand before walking to King. She took off the button up as he winced out.

“Hold this on his wound. I don’t know how much blood he lost so let’s try and keep what he has in his body please. Put pressure on it.” she told him. He followed her instructions before grabbing her keys and her gun placing it in her waistband.

“Nah, we are driving my car-”

“Do you really think you’re in the position right now to make any decisions?” she cuts him off. Erik smacked his teeth listening to her. He’s not even going to lie, he miss this. She was the only one on planet Earth that he allowed to talk to him like that.

“Plus, if what you said is true, there are people from the raid all over this city looking for you. You’re car is probably being searched for as we speak.” she said making her way to the garage. They got into her car, as she backed out of the driveway. They rode through the dead city, the car silent.

“You know I didn’t mean for him to get hurt.. right?” she gripped the steering wheel, before nodding.

“Erik I know..” she said looking at the road. “But you didn’t have to lie..” she reminded him.

“I just know how you get when it comes down to him..”

“Yeah but you also know that I don’t like being left in the dark.” she said pulling into the parking lot. She found a close parking spot before stepping out. He followed her inside seeing her grab the things she needed.

“We need to stop by the hospital. There’s a couple of things that we need to get that they don’t have in here.” she said.

After paying for everything, they made their way to the hospital. “Stay here.” he instructed her. “No I need to come with you.”

“Erik It’s fine.. I got this,” she walked into the

“Excuse me, who are you?”

“Oh I’m the lead for the ICU unit. I left my charger in the break room and came by to pick it up.” she said as the nurse looked her up and down.

“Yeah. Hopefully it’s still in there.” You know how people can get with their sticky fingers.” she joked as Jada chuckled. She went to the supply closet before grabbing some of the items she needed. She made her way out to the car to see Erik sitting in the car.

“You got everything.”

“Yeah, let’s head back.”

After this little procedure, she had them put him in one of the spare bedrooms she had in her house. She told them to leave the room so she could have privacy with her brother. She sat on the floor on the side of the bed as he looked at her. “I know this isn’t how you wanted to spend you day off.” he said to her as she nodded.

“I’m so glad you know so..” she said to him as he chuckled.

“I’m sorry that I lied to you..” he randomly said as she chuckled.

“I’m just glad that you’re alive...” she told him as he nodded. There was silence before he spoke up. “You know Erik still wants to be with you.” he said as she scoffed.

“Erik is the least of my worries right now, no offense.” she told him as he chuckled.

“I’m serious, give that nigga a chance. Do you know how much he’s obsessed with you? Asking me every other day are you okay? Do you need money? Like damn call her your damn self.” he mocked him as he chuckled. Jada looked down on at the ground playing with her hands.

“You need to rest. I’ll be back in a few hours to refill your IV.” she told him. She kissed him on the forehead before turning the lights off and walking out his room. Erik stood on the other side of the hallway.

“How’s he doing?”

“He’s fine, he didn’t loose that much blood thankfully.” she said.

“That’s good.” he said putting his hands in his pockets.

“I need to talk-” “Can we talk?”

They both said at the same time. They both laughed before she said, “Let’s go to my bar and have a drink?”

They walked to her bar as she grabbed two whiskey glasses, pouring some Hennessy into each one. He grabbed it before taking a sip. “I miss you..” was all she said before he looked at her leaning against the counter. He smirked bringing the glass to his lips.

“That must’ve been really hard to admit.. huh?” she hit him in the arm as he chuckled. He placed the glass on the counter before looking her up and down.

“I missed you too... that whole situation spiraled outta control honestly. And it’s a shame that shit had us to stubborn to not talk to each other for almost a damn year.” he said as she sighed looking down.

“What does that mean for us?” she asked him as he walked closer to her closing the gap. He basically towered over her making her weak in the knees.

“I feel like we both know.” he whispered to her. “I don’t know about you, but I got a lotta of making up to do.” he said hooking his index finger along the strap of the tank top. He let it hang off her shoulder as tilted her head over. He placed soft kisses on her shoulder as she sighed in pleasure.

“I have to makeup for a birthday, valentines day.” he whispered. He undid the other strap.

“Erik..” she whispered as he pulled away from her.

“Can I make it up to you?”

#killmonger fanfiction #eriksteven #erik kilmonger #killmonger

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floatinginwords · 4 years ago

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Jaskier headcannon - Your wedding

Pairing: Jaskier x fem!reader (Im sorry to my gender neutral friends i didnt realize i kinda made reader a bit fem till i stopped writing and i was bit lazy to edit it, ill be more mindful next time)

A/N: Something quick i made, I would have spent more time and made it a bit differently and better (cause i kinda think this is a bit terrible) but midterms is this week and ive been juggling so much but i hope you like and have a good day regardless

- Jaskier as always would want to go big but you quickly shut that down, not needing the stress of planning a wedding. You wanted it peaceful and full of love. Simple yet beautiful.

- You decide to get married near a willow tree by the village you grew up in

- You had preferred it being only the two of you and an officiant but Ciri had overheard the planning and begged to go

- You couldn’t say no, you end up inviting her as well as Geralt and Yennefer.

-Jaskier was excited to finally marry you, to be able to call someone my wife, and be called husband

- He didn't like being separated from you the night before. Yennefer suggested it, then Ciri insisted it to not have bad luck, then you complied thinking maybe it was for the best

- He had grown accustomed to having you in his arms at night so for him he was restless the next morning, nerves spiked up more than usual.

- Yennefer and Ciri are you're maid of honors. They help you get ready, doing your hair and make up. They notice your quieter than usual

- The previous night had also messed you up as well. You had missed waking up next to him and hearing his voice. And its not that you two are attached to the hip, its just you prefer to be with each other than without. Who wouldn't when one found their soulmate?

- Though you agreed to the separating for the night, the superstition of bad luck had really got to you. You wanted this to work and you wanted this to last. And its all you thought of last night was all the ways this could go wrong.

- And You’re not nervous because you know this is exactly what you want but you worry about Jaskier and if he would grow cold feet. And though you know him better than that, the scary thought is still there

- Geralt is Jaskier best man and doesn't really help the groom get ready but provides a ear to the bards endless babbling. Ciri jumps from room to room as they all wait on the arrival of the officiant.

- “How's my beloved, how is she?” Jaskier asks when Ciri makes another appearance.

- “I don't know, she's not really talking.”

- If there was one thing Jaskier knew about you it was that you loved talking. He would understand if you were near strangers but you were around people you were closest too. So he knew there was something wrong

- “Right, excuse me.” Jaskier says to Cir, whose blocking the door, wanting to find you

- “Yennefer said that you can’t-” Geralt lifts Ciri up, giving Jaskier the perfect getaway. He can Ciri yelling at Geralt as he walks away

- At the front of your door, Yennefer guards. Jaskier puffs out his chest and puts on his best brave face, “Yennefer-”

- “Took you long enough” She says to Jaskier, walking away.

-He finds you lost in space lookin beautiful in a sleek white dress, the lace veil on top of your hair, for a moment he gawks

- As soon as you notice him, you jump up “Jaskier you cant see me.”

- He takes your hand “Dove, don't tell me you believe in something silly like that.”

-” What if i do?” You ask shyly

- He shuts his eyes, “ Then i will look no more.”

- You laugh at him and clutch his hand tighter. “open you eyes. I missed you.”

- He smiles and his eyes twinkle at the sight of your smile. “Are you okay?”

-”I'm better now.” And you were now that Jaskier was by your side.

- The officiant comes minutes later. Jaskier stands by the willow tree, Geralt walks you down the aisle. Yennefer and Ciri watch as you go. You swear you see a tear drop from yens eye

- Both you and Jaskiers smiles are wide and goofy as you both say your vows and declare your undying love and commitment to one another

#jaskier headcanon #jaskier #jaskier x reader #the witcher #jaskier x you

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appalachianwiine · 3 years ago

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Swim Chapter 9 - A Friend

Chapter 9

And if it feels like it's already over

Lean in closer, rest your bones

You've got a friend when times get mean

Yeah, in the meantime I'm on your team

“In the Meantime” - Randall Kent

The day passed in an odd sense of time for Carol, while the kids and her classes kept her busy enough the moments between periods and over lunch seemed to stretch on forever. The opening and closing of the heavy classroom doors shoved and yanked by teenagers all too ready to leave class brought back clear memories of heavy hospital doors being swung open and the room filling with people. Every time a phone would chime or the office would call she’d be dragged back to memories of the nurses calling in codes and shouting for doctors.

3 o’clock came and went and instead of staying after to grade papers or work on paperwork she started cleaning up the classroom to leave. To get to the hospital by 430 she needed to be out of here by 4. She moved robotically through the motions of wiping down the desks and straightening the textbooks. Her mind was with Lydia and Daryl now.

She knew all too well the feeling of being in one of those rooms, time lost to the hospital. Morning, noon, and night change to first shift, second shift, third shift. Hours turning to IV drip times and vitals checks. It could crush a person alone like that and Daryl seemed to think he was very alone. She got the sense he had been for a long time and it worried her. It reminded her of Leah and Matthew really, they’d come from a small farm in northern Georgia and despite all of Carol’s pushing and offering and turning up Leah had never been friendly. Even Ezekiel hadn’t managed to get more then a few words at a time from the woman and he could get just about anybody to talk. She didn’t want to see Daryl and Lydia facing the same sort of isolation.

Carol stopped to pick up coffee for her and Daryl on the way to the hospital. It wasn’t a lot but sometimes a warm drink that wasn’t crappy hospital coffee could make a difference. Pulling into the hospital parking lot she spots a familiar face. The dark haired woman and little boy who’d come to see Lydia and Daryl a few days ago.

“Excuse me!” Carol calls, hurrying to catch up. The woman turns around. “Sorry sorry are you going to see Daryl and Lydia?”

“Yes.” The woman nods. “You must be Carol, from the group. I’m Dr. Grimes.”

“Yeah, Carol.” Carol nods. “Dr. Grimes, it’s nice to met you. Have you known Daryl for long?”

“Seven years almost. Carl was just a baby when my husband and Daryl started working together.” Dr. Grimes says. “I’ve been Lydia’s pediatrician since Daryl adopted her four years ago.”

“Oh.” Carol frowns, “Then you -”

“Caught the cancer?” Dr. Grimes nods. “Yeah, something was wrong, I pushed the lab to expedite the sample, and I’m glad I did it but I have to say that wasn’t ever a call I expected to make in my career. Especially not to someone I know so personally like Daryl. It’s the worst phone call I’ve ever made.”

“I can imagine.” Carol nods. “But I’m glad he has friends behind him, he needs them.”

“Well maybe you could tell him to call every now and then.” Dr. Grimes mutters, pressing the elevator door button. “He nearly gave us a heart attack the first time he called. It was nearly a full 24 hours after he came to the hospital.”

“It’s overwhelming.” Carol frowns. “Learning your kid is that sick, I’m sure he didn’t mean to worry you. He’s a nice guy.”

“He’s too nice.” Dr. Grimes sighs. “Carl step away from the doors or they won’t close.” She pulls the little boy back a step or two by his shirt. “Every time i call it’s vague answers and I know he doesn’t want to worry us but still…”

“He doesn’t want to be a burden.” Carol nods. “It’s - it’s pretty common in this world. Most people pull away when they learn you or your child has cancer. And the ones that don’t - we don’t want to burden the people who stay.”

“He’s always been like that.” Dr. Grimes sighs. “I just wish I knew how to help so he didn’t have to ask.”

“I can help with that.” Carol offers. “If you want.”

“Really?” Dr. Grimes says, ushering Carl out of the elevator. “What can we do.”

“Well - right now… everything is kind of managed for them, the doctors and nurses tell him how to clean, when to eat and sleep, what medications to take when.” Carol explains as they begin the walk down the hall. “When they get home, it’s - it’s going to be a lot scarier. Because then everything is on Daryl. If you’d like my help I’d like to help prepare the house for when he and Lydia get back. Pill organizers, cleaning supplies, wound care, that sort of thing.”

“Okay.” Dr. Grimes says. “Yeah, of course we’ll help.”

“Moooommmmm” Carl whines. “You’re being slow.”

“Alright, alright.” Dr. Grimes rolls her eyes good naturedly. “Sorry about him, this is the most he and Lydia have been apart in a long time. They were in the same class at school, and they were supposed to go to camp together this summer.”

“It’s fine.” Carol chuckles, picking up the pace slightly.

Lydia’s room has a white board attached to the door reading;

LYDIA DIXON - 8 YRS

IV VINCRISTINE

“Mom what’s vin - vin -” Carl frowns. “That?”

“It’s medicine baby.” Dr. Grimes says. “To help Lydia get better, but it might make her feel sick so we need to be quiet and calm when we go in okay?”

“Okay.” Carl nodded solemnly, reaching for his moms hand.

Carol leans forward and knocks on the door.

“Come in.” A tired, gruff voice says.

Carol pushes the door open and holds it for Dr. Grimes and Carl to go in first. Lydia is curled up in a ball on Daryl’s lap, pale as a ghost and wrapped in a blanket.

“Carl!” Lydia mutters, moving off Daryls lap and holding her arms out. Carl looks up at his mom and she nudges him forward. That’s all it takes for him to rush over and embrace Lydia.

“Hey Daryl.” Carol smiles. “I brought you decent coffee.”

“Thank.” He mutters, rubbing his eyes and sitting up. “T’ be hones I think I’m too tired t’ tell the decent stuff from the shit stuff.”

“Long night?” Carol asks.

“Yeah.” Daryl mutters. “Thanks fer comin’.”

“Of course.” She offers a supportive smile.

“How’s Carl an’ Judith?” Daryl asks turning to Dr. Grimes.

“Judith started walking, much to Shane’s horror. I sometimes forget this is the first baby he’s responsible for.” Dr. Grimes chuckles.

“Hey that’s a hell of a shock.” Daryl says. “Imagine getting a four year old and having no parenting experience.”

“You’re doing great.” Dr. Grimes says.

“Thanks Lori.” Daryl mutters. “So uh, you met Carol?”

“Yeah we ran into each other in the parking lot.” Carol nods. “So, how you holding up?”

“Um.” He glances at Lydia and Carl, who are now both wrapped in Lydia’s blanket on the end of the bed and whispering to each other. “It’s uh - it’s been a rough day. Henry and Ezekiel came by earlier, tha’ was nice. But It’s just kinda...”

“Numb?” Carol asks quietly.

“Yeah.” Daryl nods. “Numb. I was uh lookin’ at this binder and it’s - it’s like… it’s insane. I mean, three months in the hospital getting intensive chemotherapy. How do - how I even prepare for that?”

“You ask for help.” Lori whispers. “And you take it when it’s offered.”

“She’s right Daryl.” Carol says. “Those stays are impossibly hard when you’re on your own, so you let us help.”

Daryl didn’t look so sure about that, and next to her, Lori folded her arms. “Daryl Dixon. You’re not on your own anymore and trying to do it all on your own isn’t going to let you focus on Lydia. So you’re going to let us help. Got it?”

“Alright, alright.” Daryl runs a hand over his face.

“And right now you’re going to let us help by going down to the cafeteria with Carol and getting some real food.” Lori continues, looking over at Carol and raising an eyebrow. “Because if theres one thing you look like you could use right now it’s a good meal and an adult conversation.”

“I shouldn’t leave Lydia.” Daryl argues.

“She’s fine.” Lori insists. “She knows me, and she and Carl can watch a movie.”

“Lyd?” Daryl asks quietly. The little brunette turns back to look at her dad. “You okay if I go get some food with Ms. Carol?”

Lydia cocks her head and looks between the two of them. “I… I guess. You’ll come back?”

“Soon as I’m done.” Daryl nods, leaning over and kissing her hair.

“Okay.” Lydia nods.

“You two want to watch a movie?” Lori asks, motioning them out of the room.

Daryl lingers and Carol reaches out and touches his arm lightly. “Come on, they’ll be fine.”

Daryl doesn’t say a word until they’re out of the room. “Sorry about Lori she’s just -”

“She’s looking out for you.” Carol cuts him off. “I know it feels awful leaving her right now, but you have to take a minute to recharge too. Come on, I’ll buy you lunch.”

“You don’t have -”

“I’m doing it.” Carol insists. “We can go over that if you want.” She nods at the binder still in his hands. “I uh, I know pretty well whats in there. I’m sure you have questions.”

“Oh.” He frowns at the folder. “Do uh - do we have to?”

“No.” Carol says, stepping into the elevator. “We can just chat if you want. Try to get your mind off of everything in there.”

Fifteen minutes later she and Daryl are sat with a soda and sandwich each at the back of the cafeteria. Daryl seems to realize he’s hungry and inhales half the sandwich without a word, he pauses abruptly, mayonnaise on his face and turns red.

“Sorry.” He mutters, reaching for a napkin. “I uh -”

“No need.” Carol smiles. “I’ve been there, any food you have eaten has been eaten in between what little sleep you’re getting.”

“Not gettin’ much ‘f either at the momen’.” Daryl mutters. “Lydia was up most of the nigh’ sick again. Probably will be again t’night. The only time she settles is when I hold her.”

“Yeah Sophia was like that.” Carol nods, taking a bite of her own sandwich.”

“I’m usually pretty strict ‘bout everyone sleepin’ in their own bed but I can’t bring myself t’ say no right now.”

“Sophia only slept with me when she was sick too.” Carol nods. “I was always bad at saying ‘no’ while she was sick, but they do need some semblance of structure and routine.”

“Yeah.” Daryl nods taking a swig of his coke. “Tha’s gonna be hard, I know when we get home an’ she’s safe an’ secure again she’s gonna lash out an’ stuff, but I’m gonna have a damn hard time keeping boundaries.”

“I did too.” Carol nods. “Sophia was processing a lot at her diagnosis - our living situation had changed, I left her dad, it was a nightmare.” Silence hangs between them. “Have they said when you’re going home?”

“Hopefully sometime next week.” Daryl mutters.

“Okay.” Carol nods. “Lori and I are going to get the house ready for you okay?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” Carol sighs. “You’ll need some things, medical supplies, pill organizers, hand sanitizer, bedding. Something I like to do for the families here is help get their house ready to be home again.”

“You don’-” He stops, seeming to take what they’d said earlier in. “Thanks Carol.”

“It’s why I’m here.” She says, taking a bite of her own sandwich. “No one was for Sophia and I and I’m not gonna let that happen to anyone.”

“Her dad a dick?” The blunt way he says it makes her raise her eyebrows. “Sorry.” He mutters sheepishly. “I uh - I shouldn’ ha-“

“It’s fine.” She says quickly. “He uh - he was yeah. I left because I thought he hurt our little girl.” The words tumble out before she can stop them and she blinks, stunned at herself. She never spoke of Ed. She never spoke of why she was single. She left it at messy divorce and that was that.

“Shit.” Daryl mutters.

“Yeah.” Carol nods.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“Nah.” He shakes his head. “It ain’. Ain’ nothing I can say gonna make it okay neither.”

There’s that blunt honesty again. Harsh, but welcome. No ‘I’m so sorry that happened’ or ‘you’re so strong’ just ‘ain’ nothing I can say gonna make it okay neither.’

“You’re special victims yeah?” Carol asks.

“Yeah.” Daryl nods.

“So I guess you’ve seen some of that.” She nods.

“Yeah.”

Silence hangs between them again.

“Thanks.” He says. “Fer all yer doin’ fer Lydia an’ I.”

“You don’t need to thank me, I’ve walked this path before. A little closer then I’d like, so if you need anything or just want some adult conversation just call.” Carol says.

“I- yeah, I will.” Daryl nods. “I uh, didn’ mean t’ scare ya this mornin’ if I did. I jus’ - you’re the only person I could think of to call.”

“That’s what I’m here for.” She smiles, reaching across the table and squeezing his hand. “You’re a good dad Daryl, and you’re gonna get through this.” Her attempt at a reassuring smile falls a little flat, because this time she’s not telling the entire truth. He will get through it, but Lydia? She was a different story all together, one with possibilities no parent wants to face.

#caryl fanfic #twd fanfic #caryl fanfiction #twd fanfiction #daryl dixon #carol peletier #lori grimes #carl grimes #lydia twd #lydia dixon #caryl #the walking dead fan fic #the walking dead fanfiction #fic; swim #cancer tw

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7demonhoes · 4 years ago

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The demon boys during a night out drinking with you

This turned out a little longer than expected, whoops. Hope you like it!!

Warnings: alcohol mention, swearing

Gender neutral MC

Mammon:

Ya’ll know the avatar of greed doesn’t know when to stop when he’s having a good time

So when the two of you decide to go bar hopping, he goes a bit crazy with his liquor

He’s taking shots of rum and tequila like the Four Horsemen are going to ride through the Devildom the next morning

Even with that devilish tolerance of his, he feels those shots eventually and is staggering by the time you two decide to go home

"MC hold my hand" "MC carry me"

If you hold his hand, he swings your arms back and forth like a giddy little kid

He loses that tsundere personality when drunk, instead using every excuse to touch you-- an arm around your shoulder, curling a finger around your hair, teasingly poking you in the side

"MC I have a secret but I can't tell you what it is shhhh" *mushes his finger against your lips*

While you walk home, if some demon even tries to LOOK your way he's shrugging himself off you to go fight the poor bastard

"You lookin' at MY human? I got dibs on that one, ya hear?"

If you don't snuggle with him for at least half an hour once you get back home he'll be pouty for the rest of the week.

Satan:

One day you wake up with the best idea: sneak drinks into an escape room and try to get out together while absolutely plastered

*Cue detective Satan*

"MC I've connected the dots. I know who locked us in here."

"Satan that's not the point of this at all."

"It was the man who was pretending to be helpful by showing us around the building. He locked us in here."

"Satan that's literally his job"

Once he finally remembers what you're actually doing there, he solves the riddle in minutes.

You spend the rest of the night wandering the shops of the Devildom, occasionally wandering into a restaurant or bar to get some more drinks.

Satan gets the drinks with the coolest names or the beers with the most aesthetically pleasing bottles/cans

You guys decide to head back a little early but once you pass a park on the way home Satan dashes into the trees

"What the FUCK are you doing??"

"MC shush I heard meowing!"

Aaaannnd now you two are hiding a cat in the HoL. Satan is glad to raise a child with you.

Asmodeus:

Bitch you're going CLUBBIN

You guys coordinated your outfits and are looking fine af

Asmo is all about class: Martinis, cosmos, pretty much anything in a fancy looking glass

Drinks just as much as Mammon but mostly because you two are dancing so hard he barely feels it

"Honey you're looking fine but that outfit would look much better around your ankles"

When the two of you have to pee, you become best friends with every other drunk person in the bathroom

Compliments and flirts with everyone he sees

His dancing is very…. Sensual. Yumm

Once you guys decide to walk your sore feet home, he has his arms wrapped around your waist the entire time

"Oooh we have to do this again! I had the greatest time with you!"

If you're feeling like having some fun with him, you know that the night is far from over

All of the other brothers are jealous the next morning because you and Asmo are giggling at your new inside jokes during breakfast

Beel:

The bars you want to go to have snacks? He's in.

He's just happy to spend time with you

He drinks for the taste-- he likes beer, especially stouts

It's a pretty chill night, honestly-- the two of you sit and talk in dimly lit, quiet bars

You hit one last bar, thinking that it'll be a short stop but you end up staying there until close because of the wonderful conversations you're having

You stand up to leave and the world swivels around you. Holy crap did you actually drink that much???

Beel's obviously feeling it too, but he's more focused on keeping you from stumbling than his own lack of sobriety

He ends up getting too worried that you'll fall so he just sweeps you off your feet and decides to carry you bridal style

His chest is a very nice pillow cuz, you know, tiddies

He's super affectionate while drunk. He nuzzles his cheek on the top of your head while carrying you, humming quietly as he does

"You can go to sleep MC, I don't mind, even if you do snore"

Once you get back home, he carries you up to your room and gets you ready for bed-- he even goes so far to do your skincare routine for you.

He decides to lie down with you (just for a bit!) but accidentally falls asleep with you curled in his arms. He greets you the next morning with a huge, warm smile

Levi:

By some miracle, you convinced him to leave the house

He complains a bit about not being surrounded by his 2-D friends until you find an arcade that also serves drinks

The two of you compete in Every. Game. Loser has to drink.

You're sloshed pretty quickly. You think you could beat a nerd who's constantly playing games in his room? Sucker.

Levi likes fruity drinks. He's not ashamed of it, but he never really drinks in front of his brothers because they tease him for it

"You're different, though. I mean, whatever! It's not like I care what you think! I mean don't get me wrong, I like you a lot but-- GAH!"

When he's drunk he's actually hilarious. Everything he keeps to himself is just blurted out of his mouth and damn that boy is funny

"Business idea: Fuckin…. Light Up Heelies. If I wore those babies to RAD I'd be drowning in bitches"

On your way back home, he decides to tell you all of his secrets. Nothing is embarrassing when you're drunk. He will later regret this.

"MC you could punch me in the face and I think I'd say thank you. No really. Just punch me. I've been thinking about asking you for weeks"

The two of you stay up late watching stupid vines/tik toks and laughing so hard that you wake everyone else up

Belphie:

It's really hard to get him drunk because after a few drinks he gets even sleepier

You jokingly suggested that you just hook him up to an IV filled with vodka and he said yes. You think it's a horrible idea but now he wants to try it

You compromise by taking five shots back to back

You realize that was a mistake pretty quickly but Belphie feels awake enough to go out

You guys go to lively clubs and bars, but Belphie's version of dancing his bobbing his head while sitting down

Trying to keep up with demons is hard. How are you this drunk. Belphie's barely even tipsy and he's had more drinks than you

Homeboy likes to order the grossest kinds of alcohol on the menu "What? It's cheap"

"MC want to see something fucked up" *does it without waiting for your answer*

He tries to convince you to give him a piggyback ride on the way home

The kind of drunk that calls you names the entire night like "loser" "crackhead" "my dumb human"

Tries to run into ongoing traffic like seven times

Tells you he wants to play games and chat when you get back home but he just passes out against your doorway

Lucifer:

This man is all about dimly lit, classy establishments that serve overpriced cocktails with cool names and ingredients

Definitely a whisky/bourbon/wine guy

There's a piano at the lounge. You tell him to go play it, and he flat out refuses

*Four drinks later* "And here's a song I wrote for you during the lonely hours of the night"

He slowly becomes more and more affectionate-- placing his hand on top of yours, touching the small of your back whenever you walk anywhere together, resting his palm against your thigh

Compliments your outfit all the time

He slowly lets his guard down and he starts fondly talking about all of his brothers and tells you his favorite stories

You thought Mammon was an attention-seeking drunk? He's nothing compared to the touch starved, caffeine deprived Lucifer

"MC let's slow dance" "MC I'm so happy you're here" "MC I wish you could stay with us forever"

He keeps you close on the way home, his arm around your waist. He occasionally digs your face into the crook of your neck and his hot breath triggers goosebumps to tingle along your flesh

"Sometimes I dream about you, me, and Diavolo traveling to some distant country and living together without ever thinking of the world's problems"

Cooks for you when you get back and uses every excuse to stay up just a little bit longer with you

#Satan's and Levi's are my favorites #obey me #obey me shall we date #shall we date

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colonel-insomniac · 4 years ago

Text

Heather— Conan Gray

And we are back! sorry for the long wait, i graduated, I’m getting ready to start uni, ive been a little busy. Anyways, read other Spongebob One-shots HERE and if its a while before i release another one, pls read my book The Other Planet HERE because I aim to publish it after rewriting. "I still remember, third of December, me in your sweater, you said it looked better on me than it did you…"

Bobby was slumped in a chair, chin resting on an arm that was propped up by a cafeteria table. Prom was a bust, that's really all he had discovered tonight.

Everyone always says prom is a magical night, and bonds are formed that will never break, and maybe Bobby is being a little over dramatic about this, but this dance turned out to be a total waste of seventy-five bucks.

Truthfully, he'd wanted to be asked to prom, and by Patrick. But when it became clear that wasn't happening, his mom had insisted he still go, despite his lamenting about not wanting to. She'd promised him that he would later wish he had gone. Bobby supposed it would be better than being sprawled on the couch, watching movies.

Now, however, all he wished to do was watch movies. Since he'd walked through the doors of the high school gym, Bobby had a flighty feeling gnawing at his insides. And he knew it was heartwarming when Pat walked through the doors with his mom, but he couldn't help wishing he was walking through that entrance with Patrick.

Bobby had ducked into the bathroom—accidentally into the girls first, where they asked why he looked upset after their initial shock—the boy's bathroom, where he locked himself in a stall, and sat for a couple minutes.

His heart was beating fast, so he pulled out his phone and played some Subway Surfer's in an attempt to calm down. It was just Pat after all, his best friend for life. There was no reason to be nervous.

And that's when he wound up at this table. He'd weaved his way through the throng of dancing kids, chatting with a couple of them before moving on. Bobby had managed to catch a couple of glances at Patrick, who was seated at a table with his mom. But they weren’t talking, he was looking around with a frown.

“Only if you knew, how much I liked you, but I watch your eyes as she walks by…”

Bobby had a sneaking suspicion that Patrick liked Sandy, a really smart Texan. He had no proof of this, of course, besides how much they seemed to hang out these days. Bobby felt bad about that thought. She’s not a bad person, Sandy, that is. She’s really smart, and shes’ pretty, and nice, and all good things. But Bobby had been missing his best friend recently. He’d tried talking to Edward—or Eddie, as Bobby called him, despite Edward’s scowls—but it was evident that the tall, clarinet playing, art adept boy was consumed with work, and consequently had no time to talk.

Bobby had sat down in the chair he’s now in, spinning stories out of the pattern on the table to keep himself occupied. Even he was aware how pitiful that sounded. Sandy and Edward had come up to him, separately of course, and chatted for a bit each. He’d grinned when Eddie voluntarily sat next to him, but Eddie had made sure Bobby knew he was only talking to him tonight because of how Bobby had been one of the few to treat him kindly. At that, Bobby’s mouth fell open in shock. Eddie was such a fun person to be around in his opinion. He’s going to have to talk with people and tell them how awesome Eddie is.

Bobby half listens to what Eddie is telling him, nodding his head in agreement as he thinks of how he can help the talented man. Soon enough, Edward decides he’s talked enough, and excuses himself. That’s when Sandy practically leapt out of the almost non-existent shadows, nearly giving Bobby a heart attack. He jumps a little, and Sandy smiles, apologizing for startling him. “You? Scare me? No, no, I was just getting up!” Bobby tries, knowing that Sandy knows it’s a lie.

“What a sight for sore eyes, brighter than the blue sky, she’s got you mesmerized, while I die…”

“Mhm, sure.” Sandy gives him a knowing look. “Why are ya camped out here anyhow?” Bobby shrugs, not wanting to explain. “Patrick has been lookin’ for ya, he seems worried ‘bout somethin’.” Bobby looks away, feeling guilty.

The ever-perceptive girl takes note of the expression on Bobby’s face, and in one motion, pulls out a chair and sits down. Bobby keeps his head tilted towards the table, hoping she won’t want him to talk about it. “Now, what’s wrong Bobby? You’ve been actin’ stranger than a cow dancin’ at a disco rodeo.” Bobby’s eyebrows scrunch together, a little confused by the saying, but then he shakes his head and thinks up a response.

He shrugs, “Nothing, I just don’t wanna be here anymore.” Sandy’s own eyebrows shoot up, and she asks what he means by that.

“Why would you ever kiss me, I’m not even half as pretty, you gave her your sweater it's just polyester, but you like her better, wish I were Heather…”

Bobby lifts his shoulder again, not sure of what to say or how to say it. He blows air out, watching a strand of his hair float up and fall down again while he thinks. Sandy see the discomfort on his face, and drags him outside, into the quiet. The air out here fills Bobby’s lungs, pleasantly warm. It smells like spring, hope, rebirth, renewal. “Now talk.” She orders, and he has no choice but to admire her persistence.

“I kinda like Pat.” It’s a low whisper, and Sandy’s face brightens. Bobby frowns. “What’re you smiling about?”

Sandy quickly irons out her face, assuring him that there’s nothing going on, gesturing for him to continue. “But I think he likes you, not me.” Bobby stares hard at a tree, watching as the moonlight pokes through the holes in the leaves.

Sandy makes a sound in the back of her throat, and Bobby can’t quite place an emotion to the sound. “He’s a great guy, I would know, I did spend the past 17 years of my life with him.” Bobby continues, turning to Sandy and plastering a bright, fake smile on his face as he grabs her hands. “Pat’s a lot of fun to be around, he’s also really soft.” Bobby stares up and away from Sandy, trying to keep his emotions under control.

“Bobby, you’ve got it all wrong—” Sandy starts, and Bobby numbly thinks how she does look pretty ethereal right now, and kinda all the time. How could someone not like her?

“Watch as she stands with her holding your hand, put your arm 'round her shoulder, now I'm getting colder…”

“Trust me, Sandy, it’s okay. If you like him too, you should tell him. You guys will…have a lot of fun together.” He’s trying to work himself up to be happy. He should be happy for the two anyways.

He hardly hears himself as he continues on, rambling, Sandy watching him with eyes that keep getting wider. It’s when he’s starting to turn to go back inside, and turning her too, that Sandy seems to snap out of her shock, and grabs Bobby’s shoulders. “Listen Bobby,” Bobby opens his mouth to ask something, confused, but Sandy shakes her head, so he nods. “You gotta trust me on this one. Pat doesn’t like me. I know who he likes, and this person is at this party. Patrick’s plannin’ on tellin’ them tonight, so you oughta at least go and see him.” Bobby shakes his head, once, before Sandy frowns at him. “He’s itchin’ to talk to you, been missin’ you all night, and y’all are both actin’ pretty dang stupid.” Bobby’s too confused, puzzling over that last part, and before he can protest it, Sandy’s grabbed his hand, and drags him inside.

“But how could I hate her? She's such an angel, but then again, kinda wish she were dead, as she walks by, what a sight for sore eyes, brighter than a blue sky, she's got you mesmerized, while I die…”

“Sandy…” That’s all Bobby can get out. The cold of the air condition raises goosebumps on his arms, and okay, maybe that isn’t the only reason. Because now, he’s going to be face to face with Patrick, and only Sandy knows why she’s doing this.

He didn’t think he was wrong though, about Patrick liking Sandy. But now that she’s said that it isn’t her, Bobby feels almost like he’s been thrown into an existential crisis. His stomach clenches, and he desperately tries to stall by any means necessary, but Sandy doesn’t buy any of the excuses he’s giving her. She just tells Bobby to trust him and keeps moving.

Bobby sees Pat sitting with his mom. His back is towards Sandy and Bobby, but he nods his head at whatever his mom says. Sandy deposits Bobby in a corner, and tells him to “wait there and don’t move,” before making her way over to the pair.

He debates slipping away, now that Sandy’s back is turned, but he’s frozen instead, helplessly watching the scene unfold in front of him. From what he can see, Sandy puts a hand on Pat’s shoulder, greeting his mom, who smiles at her. Patrick’s looking up at her, and she briefly addresses him before pulling him up. Bobby’s heart is beating wildly in his body, and he swallows as Sandy brushes off the shoulders of Pat’s suit before leading him toward Bobby.

“Why would you ever kiss me? I'm not even half as pretty, you gave her your sweater, it's just polyester, but you like her better, I wish I were Heather…”

Patrick catches sight of Bobby before the pair is in front of him, and Bobby finds himself mesmerized by Patrick. When they stop, Sandy waits for a beat or two, and exits, aiming a pointed glance at Bobby, the meaning of which he is able to immediately decipher. She’s telling him to confess. That thought sends him into a state of panic, and he blushes, not sure what to do or say.

“Hey.” Is the first thing to come out of his mouth, and he considers literally face-palming. Instead, however, Bobby watches Patrick’s face scrunch up.

“Why have you been ignoring me?” Bobby flinches at the emotion underneath the question. He never meant to hurt Patrick, never thought he was.

But now he knows better. “I thought you liked Sandy, I was trying to stay out of the way so you could tell her.” Pat looks taken aback by Bobby’s confession.

“I don’t….” Pat starts to say something, but trails off, looking slightly confused.

Bobby breathes in, stomach knotting and unknotting over and over as he debates saying it. He closes his eyes. “I like you.” Those three words stop everything. Bobby’s mind goes still, and he knows it’s impossible, but he swears it feels as though his heart has stopped.

His hands drop to his sides—funny, he didin’t remember lifting them to begin with— and looks to the side, away from Patrick. He struggles—and fails—to keep a couple of tears from escaping, and he brushes them off, sniffing. “It’s okay, though. You should talk to the person you like.” He starts to back away, back hitting the wall behind him.

“Wish I were Heather, wish I were Heather…”

“Bobby, you should’ve told me—” Pat starts, grabbing the shorter of the two and wraps his arms around Bobby. “I was trying to figure out how to tell you that I liked you.”

Bobby’s confused. Patrick likes him? “Wait what?” Bobby smartly asks. Patrick breathes in, and exhales before responding. Bobby supposes he’s thinking about what to say.

“I like you too. I’ve been hanging out with Sandy to get advice on how to tell you. I–we—eventually decided I should do it tonight, at prom.” Bobby doesn’t realize how tightly he’s holding onto Patrick, he’s too focused on listening to what’s being said.

He breathes in, and is surrounded by the scent of Patrick, Hot Topic’s Sugar Cookie scent. Bobby knows Pat would never admit to shopping there, so around the holidays, when they release the scent, Bobby buys a ton for Pat just in case he should run out. “I would never just stop hanging out with you.”

“Why would you ever kiss me? I'm not even half as pretty…”

“Sorry,” Bobby mutters, knowing Pat will hear it. “I should’ve asked if everything was alright instead of assuming and hiding. Especially since we've been best friends since birth."

Patrick shakes his head, and after a minute, both feel as though the hug has branched into the awkward category.

Bobby decides it's probably rude to not say hi to Patrick's mom, and when he brings that up to Pat, his best friend (who likes him back?) offers an arm with a goofy grin. Bobby takes this in stride, placing his hand on the inside of Patrick's elbow, trying to match with an equally enthusiastic grin. The pair set off towards the table Mrs. Starr is sitting at, finding Sandy chatting with her.

"Hey Mrs. Starr! Hey-a Sandy." Bobby leans down to hug Patrick's mother.

"Bobby and I were gonna dance." He tugs Bobby over to the floor, and Bobby waves at the two, sending a smile their way.

"Pat, I can't dance." Bobby mutters, but he wraps his arms around Patrick's neck anyways. In return, the taller of the two places his hands at Bobby's waist, tentatively, as though not sure whether Bobby was fine with it.

The contact sent a shiver down Bobby's back, stepping closer to Patrick. "Sure you can, anyone can dance, really." Patrick snorts softly, and Bobby elects to leave the matter, leaning his head on Pat's shoulder.

"You gave her your sweater, it's just polyester..."

"So," Pat begins saying something, and Bobby peacefully listens. "Would you like to go with me tomorrow and get ice cream in the park?” Bobby leans away, playfully grinning at Pat.

“Is that a date?” Bobby laughs a little, knowing the answer already. Pat punches Bobby lightly on the shoulder.

“You know it is.” Bobby can’t resist leaning up on his toes and placing a chaste kiss on Patrick’s cheek. When he pulls back, he’s delighted to see the faint pink blush on his companion’s cheek.

And if anyone were to ask him, he definitely did not squeal when Patrick picked him up and spun him around.

“But you like her better, wish I were…”

#patbob #spongerick #spongebob #patrick #sandy #mr krabs #squidward #spongebob the musical

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yakocchi · 5 years ago

Photo

(Eisuke) The King’s Training – “Try to Satisfy Me” // Episode 1

A bit of context for what this is from: otona love is their mature hub for existing Voltage series and their original adult series. So it’s just essentially 100koi+ (Love 365) except you have to play it on a shitty web browser and also pay more monies per story. technology

For a while I thought I imagined seeing this story in the site, but actually voltage just got lazy and didn’t tag this story with anything. Legit, you can type “eisuke” and “suite room” in the search and it doesn’t show up. it shows up on the kbtbb store page but… whack. almost reminds me of how useless the 365 app search can be

Episode 1 is free (!!!) so if you wanna follow along with a portrait of eisuke (bc I didn’t post further screencaps) then… there you go

this ep is… not adult-adult, but eh. It’s the later eps that do the adult content or w/e

eisuke nonsense behind the cut

…

At the penthouse, where it seems like I’m always being summoned to come over… Within seconds I was already thrown into bed, and I weakly pushed against him.

[MC]: “N-No, don’t…” [Eisuke]: “Stop trying to hide every single little thing.” [Eisuke]: “Do you intend to make me say that over and over again?” [MC]: “Even then, doing this all of a sudden is a bit embarrassing…” [MC]: “Can you at least turn off the lights?” [Eisuke]: “Will that be all from you?” (This is bad… his mood quickly went sour.)

When I shrink away from the icy gaze above me, the sheets are then mercilessly torn away. [MC]: “Ah-” [Eisuke]: “Are you not in the mood to entertain me?” [MC]: “ah… Please, wait-” (As it is - it’s impossible!) Tightly shutting my eyes, I brace through my shame and-

(He shut them off for me!) [MC]: “Thank y–“ [Eisuke]: “…” In that split second I sigh in relief, he suddenly grabs onto my ankles. [MC]: “!” [Eisuke]: “From here, I won’t let any more complaints come out of you.” He forces himself between my knees, a smirk on his face. (Seems like it’ll be a long night…)

…

The next day – (I’m dead… dead tired…) (I only had resisted him for a little bit, and yet I was punished until morning…) I groggily continue to make the bed when I stagger a step and bang into the cleaning wagon. [MC]: “Aaah-“ [Erika]: “MC, hold it. What are you doing?” [MC]: “I’m sorry for causing more unnecessary work for you!” Waking up to tidy the massive heap of fallen amenities, Erika hands me the new sheets with a thud. [Erika]: “You know, you’ve been slacking off too much lately.” [Erika]: “Even if you’re Mr. Ichinomiya’s girlfriend - let’s not get too carried away now, hm?!” [MC]: “Of course not!” [Erika]: “As punishment, please do the rest of the cleaning by yourself!” (So that I can keep up with Eisuke, I’ve been working my hardest.) (‘Getting carried away’, I haven’t done anything like that…) Erika leaves the hotel room, and I was left alone to continue cleaning.

…

That night–

(If I don’t hurry, I won’t make it on time!) Flying out of my dorm and dashing through the hotel lobby, two figures then intercept my path. [Ota]: “Oh cool, perfect timing.” [Ota]: “We’re going up to the penthouse, so come and serve us some coffee.”

the… the main lobby where they all hang out is called the penthouse too, right in jpn they use “organizers’ room” which… that aint it in engl i remember that much. right??? oh no look what you’ve done voltage, this is what happens when you make 1 kbtbb update a month

[MC]: “Uh, right now?” [Baba]: “Ota, you gotta call that off for now. If she’s in this much of a rush, you should just sympathize with the dear.” [Ota]: “Ahh, gotcha.” [Ota]: “So, you were peacefully relaxing in your room after work when you got a call?” [Baba]: “Something along the lines of ‘Get to the penthouse, you have 5 minutes’, as they say?” [MC]: “It’s just as you say! Well, I have to-“ [Ota]: “Looks like Eisuke’s ‘training’ has wrapped up with flying colors, huh?” [Baba]: “Then, how many minutes do you have left on the timer?” (Oh, no- by just talking to them for a moment, my five minutes have passed!) I cut the conversation short and jump onto the penthouse elevator.

…

[MC]: “-So, I’ve kept you waiting!” [Eisuke]: “You’re late.” [MC]: “?!” Opening the door - Eisuke was right there, leaning against the immediate wall. He approaches closer, apparently irritated. (Th-That scared me… It couldn’t be that he was actually sitting around waiting for me, right?)

season 1 mc u will soon realize he has no hobbies despite having billions of dollars to invest in any hobby ever

(I should apologize for now) [MC]: “Sorry,” [MC]: “Before I got on the elevator, I was occupied talking to the others…” [Eisuke]: “I didn’t permit you to give me excuses and the like.” (No matter how you look at it, he’s clearly in a bad mood.) I feel a chill run down my spine before he grabs my wrists and pins them above my head. Trapped between the door and his body, I timidly ask, [MC]: “Are you… angry?” [Eisuke]: “I’m going to retrain you.” He leans his face a breath closer before licking my lips. Instinctively opening my mouth, he slips his tongue through and caresses inside. [MC]: “…Mmn-“ [Eisuke]: “…” Every time he bites the tip of my tongue, the wet sound echoes through the silent room. (Eisuke’s kisses are always so sweet, as if to melt me-) In these kisses filled with his desire that yearns down to the core, my mind grows hazy. …thump, thump… (Footsteps?!) [MC]: “Um, isn’t there someone coming up the stairs?” [Eisuke]: “And what’s the matter with that?” With a devious smile, he had snapped off a few of the buttons on my blouse. [MC]: “Please wait, someone can come in and see us…“ [Eisuke]: “Don’t kick up a fuss.” [MC]: “Ah... S-Stop…” -Knock, knock! [Soryu]: “Eisuke. Are you in?” [Eisuke]: “Yeah.” [Soryu]: “I’m opening the door.”

MA BOI SORYU DUN DESERVE to be part of ur sic voyeuristic ways u eggplant lookin ass

lol idk if the engl version has this yet but remember the eisuke story where he swaps bodies with soryu and then soryu was pretty much like “no TOUCHIN MY BODY IS SACRED” and that was like season 17 my season 1 boy dun need this

(Th-This is a problem…!) Rattle, rattle-

[Soryu]: “…Are you in the middle of something?” [Eisuke]: “I’m busy right now.” [Soryu]: “Then I’ll ask you from out here.” (Th-Thank goodness…At some point Eisuke had locked the door.) As I finally let out a sigh of relief – While Eisuke normally conversed with Soryu, he began to further undo my clothes. (He’s opening up my blouse, and my bra is…) (But if I make a sound here, it’s likely that Soryu will find out what’s going on.) I twist my body in a subtle attempt to resist, but with a great force I was pressed even harder against the door.

[Eisuke]: “…” [MC]: “…guh…” His teasing fingertips sneak under the hem of my skirt and stroke the inner side of my thighs. Lightly biting my lip, I desperately keep my voice from leaking out. [Soryu]: “There will be a change in the items up for the upcoming auction.” [Eisuke]: “And this item is?” [Soryu]: “A painting. Ota is currently appraising it, but it’s almost certain to be a forgery.” (What should I do, the current situation is…) I also could hear lively chatter from the penthouse lobby below. In this situation where it seems that if I get even a little careless I’ll be discovered - my heartbeat wildly beats faster. [Soryu]: “Baba is currently looking for an alternative piece, but…” [Eisuke]: “But I thought there was a sculpture in the warehouse?” [Soryu]: “Isn’t that one supposed to be the centerpiece for the following auction?” Eisuke is discussing business matters with his usual expression… as he pulls down the straps of my bra. [MC]: “….Hh…” [Eisuke]: “…” His fingertips glide along to skim against the tip of my breast. (Even though Soryu’s on the other side of the door,) (He’s purposely… on the places where I’m likely to cry out…) [Eisuke]: “I don’t care if we put that one up earlier.” [Eisuke]: “Report that to Baba.” [Soryu]: “I don’t mind that, but…” More and more, the core of my body blazes hotter and I want to lose all of myself to him. (I know that wanting something like that right now is out of line,) (But…) Even if I’m aware of how inappropriate this is, I can’t escape the comfort of the sensations Eisuke gives me. [Eisuke]: “Is there a problem?” [MC]: “…kgh-” Though his words are directed to Soryu, his irises are directly captured on me. When I slightly lean my relaxed body towards him, he strokes my hair in a toying manner. [Soryu]: “…It’s quite difficult to talk about.” [Soryu]: “I’ve had enough of this - Can I at least open the door now?” [MC]: “!” I return to reality upon hearing Soryu’s voice laced with suspicion, and I shake my head to signal my resistance. But Eisuke, without letting go of my body, puts his arms to the back of my knees. (Huh?) (As usual, this is where it ends, right…?) [Soryu]: “Eisuke, are you listening to me?” [Eisuke]: “I do believe I told you that I’m in the middle of something.” When I look at him, my heartbeat picking up - With an amused smirk carved on his face, he presses these lips against my earlobe. [Eisuke]: “Spread your legs wider.”

(End of Episode 1)

If you’re interested in the rest, please consider buying the other episodes! or not. ( ´_ゝ｀) save up ur monies for the things to come, idk. ive been holed up for weeks drinking me choccy milk i dun not got the energy to be voltage pr

#kbtbb #eisuke ichinomiya #kissed by the baddest bidder

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caandlelit · 5 years ago

Note

Tbh I always loved you dabihawks AUs and was wondering if you could do more some time? (*Whisper chanting* Pjo au pjo au pjo au)

..how did u know i liked pjo ??? thats supposed to be a secret

but alright jshsj ok yeah like i havnt been thinking about it for ages

edit: i lost this so so so many fuckin times,,, but here goes. im so sorry its this late anon ive had a fucking shitty few months rip i hope to god you see this

dabi would be a legacy of apollo and vulcan, the roman version of hephaestus, on one side, and khione on the other

and endeavor, his dad, who thinks hes so great cause hes a legacy of apollo and vulcun, married rei, daughter of khione,,so that his legacies have fire and ice

dabi has this weird fuckin blue fire

apollo kids dont have fire but because of his vulcan he has fire, and its even stronger bc of apollo, therefore blue

he and fuyumi are twins

she has ice

genes fucked up and gave him fire despite their bodies being built for wach others quirks

and he can withstand cold temperatures

and constantly wishes he had ice instead so he wouldnt keep destroying his body trying to adjust to his powers especially cause his father made him use them at an early age

shouto is ice and fire, and natsuo is the healer, hes strong, plus a few seer abilities

this also fits in with my hc that natsu is a docter!! so like

thanks vulcan

but mostly apollo, for being so over achieving. your efforts are appreciated

nothing compared to hermes tho i dare u to google what hes the god of

hawks is a fuckinsksjlsksk

a fuckin

ur not ready

half harpy half hermes kid

everyone asks 'duuude why did ur dad fuck a harpy what was he oN'

'uhh, obviously for the wings it'd eventually give me- i dont fUCKIN know man, can yall stop asking'

so hawks has red wings and likes chicken nuggets and considers his dad a huge asshole

'met the guy once, and once was enough'

he was born out of a drunken one night stand (fuck you hermes) and his mom, a harpy who doesnt really care, leaves him soon after she gets bored

hes soon found and picked up by rumi and ruyuuku, half blood duo extraordinare and they eventually find their way to camp

and hes way better at camp, grows up from a hobo chicken to a ray of sunshine

he learns to be good with people and he brushes off any bullying with jokes about himself and gains respect for being such a chill guy

so social skills and diplomacy!!

plus hes good at memorizing things, thanks to the harpy genes

also pretty loud, thanks to the harpy genes

plus, he has wINGS

so,,, wings + hermes kid + all these characteristics = a messenger for the two camps basically sent by the gods

hes the middleman between the two camps as soon as hes old enough to get taxis and can fly well enough travel across longer distances

they meet cause hawks had to go deliver some message to the praetor of the roman camp

and hes stopped by the river where percy met frank and hazel in the books

idk the name its been a while fuck off

by a demigod guard on duty

hes about to fly across

when someone yells

"hey mESSENGER PIDGEON! OVER HERE!"

what the fuck

hawks looks around, flapping his wings in confusion

"yEAH YOU, YA SEE ANYONE ELSE WITH WINGS HERE? DUMBASS"

okay, woW, now hawks is confused out of his mind and pink with annoyance, what the fuck

"dOWN HERE BIRDBRAIN, WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING IN THE FUCKIN' SKY FOR"

oh oops right why would there be someone in the air

hawks looks down sheepishly

theres a roman guard, looking to be about his age, 16 or so, completely ignoring his job and apparently tossing pebbles at the river a few feet away, from the piles hawks can vaguely see scattered around him

he sees him cup his hands around his mouth and shout

"HURRY THE FUCK UP"

okay okay calm your tits

hawks flies down to the guy and lands and hes v confused ok

but the guard guy is way more interesting up close than he was from the sky

hes not wearing his helmet, taller than hawks, his hair a messy jet black, his eyes bright blue and his smile lazy but really cute

and sue him or whatever okay but,,

hawks is a sucker for blue eyes

and then hes being teased

"what were you lookin around for?"

hawks' feathers puff up in indignation and he kicks him in the shin

'shut up asshole, i came down didnt i. what do u want'

the guy laughs

"i just wanted to see your wings, your feathers are fuckin dope"

hawks is kind of endeared at this point, is this guy for real

he offers hawks a pebble and goes

"u wanna try?"

hawks stares

then he shrugs internally, cause why the fuck not, hes here all week why not make a friend while hes at it

he takes the pebble and their fingers brush and its all so cliche

hawks tosses the pebble and then hes being laughed at and taught how to throw pebbles

and they hang out getting to know each other for a solid few hours until someone comes to see why the fuck the messenger guy isnt here yet

aka shigaraki

who drags himself down to the river to see dabi fucking around with the pidgeon guy and he sighs

drags a waving, beaming hawks to the camp while dabi grins wide and waves back

then theyre talking all the time and hawks is making up excuses to fly over at least once a month and dabi is using all the drachma endeavor has to call hawks,

"its for a good cause"

and endeavor hates it because hes a greek hating dick

he thinks the camps shouldnt interact

when dabi discovers this hes fuckin delighted

"fuckin lit, a new way to piss him off!!"

*dabi voice* ive been thinking about that exchange program, maybe i should make the switch!

*constipated endeavor noises*

endeavor is old enough to be respected by a small few, and old enough for most people to wonder why the fuck he isnt dead yet

they eventually go on their first quest together

alone

no one wants to go with them because no one is willing to thirdwheel

shigarakis actual answer was "are you kidding me id rather die"

#dabihawks #dabi #hawks #hotwings #hawks bnha #hawks mha #shigaraki tomura #hc #hcs #dabi bnha #dabi is touya #touya #dabi is a todoroki #touya todoroki #todofam #i highly reccomend pjo to anyone who hasnt read it its fuckin great

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your-iron-lung · 6 years ago

Text

No Shade in the Shadow of the Cross 10

aka ‘The House That Dripped Blood’; available to read on AO3 HERE

Story Synopsis: Some weird low-key occult parties start popping up that Steve can’t in good conscience ignore and takes it upon himself to investigate. Billy gets caught up in the consequences of his meddling, and isn’t it funny? For all the strange things the Upside Down has thrown his way, it’s werewolves that Steve has trouble accepting exist.

Chapter Word Count: 7927

Pairings: Eventual Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington

Genre: Supernatural/Drama/Horror-ish

Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9

Next Chapter: 11

Notes: if you follow me you may have noticed i havent posted in a while- this is bc i spend all my time playing ffxiv instead of setting aside determined amounts of time to spend on writing/drawing and i have a bunch of artist alleys coming up that im ill prepared for and im terrible at budgeting UH YEP bad excuse but WHAT CAN YA DO here we are

(ive also set up a ko-fi account if you want to give drop me some tippy tips if u enjoy the word things i do) ((no pressure tho))

"Bigfoot."

Hopper leaned back in his chair; let it creak and groan under his weight until he knew it was at its limit, and then pushed it a little more. He studied the no-nonsense expression on the hunter before him, and intrinsically knew that the man was speaking truth.

"Bigfoot," the old man said again, speaking a little sterner than he had before once he recognized Hopper's amiable expression of disbelief. "I seen't him out in the woods just the other day."

The aging man had lumbered into the police station almost immediately after Hopper came in, bundled in some worn hunting gear that looked almost as old as he was. The deputies had offered to speak with him after hearing his initial claim, but they'd been refused when Callahan couldn't stop smirking. The old hunter had insisted on speaking with Hopper, who leaned forward now, taking the stress off of his chair to take a sip of the coffee Florence had brought in for him. He didn't look at the old man as he drank.

"So let me get this straight," Hopper began, setting his coffee aside to rub at his forehead, "you came in first thing in the morning worried about a missing friend of yours, but now you're telling me you're worried about Bigfoot."

"You know me, Jim," the hunter said, a slight hint of pleading desperation edging out of his voice. "You know I ain't some crazy old coot. I ain't seen Lamm in a long while, and yessir I'm worried 'bout him, but when I went out to his cabin to check on him I seen it: I seen Bigfoot!"

As incredulous as the claim was, Hopper believed him- not about it being Bigfoot, exactly, but he believed that the man had seen something out there in the woods, and it had the possibility of being that something he'd spent the last two weeks fruitlessly searching for.

Regardless, he didn't want to let the old hunter know he was taking him seriously. The last thing he needed was for his community to think he believed in this sort of nonsense, but people in town were going missing, and people he knew were getting hurt: if his only lead should turn up in the form of an old man believing he'd caught sight of an urban legend, then so be it. He'd follow it through, but he'd be subtle about it.

"You sure it wasn't just a trick of the light or something, Wes? You know your eyes aren't what they used to be," Hopper remarked casually, softening his voice to let him down easy. "And this isn't the first time Lamm's gone missing; you know he's one of those types of shut ins. Remember those weeks he was gone hunting 'vampires'? He's the kind of guy who lives in his own head more than he lives out here, he'll turn up again on his own time."

The hunter's lips twitched into a frown. "Alright, maybe Lamm is a little off kilter," he relented, averting his eyes for a second, "and maybe it weren't Bigfoot, but the tracks it left were huge 'n mighty, by God, and I ain't seen nothin' else like it before. If it weren't Bigfoot, then at the very least it had big feet, Jim, and I ain't never seen feet quite like 'em."

Interest piqued, Hopper became more attentive. "How's that?"

"Well, they was stretched out lookin', for one." The hunter paused, tilting his head slightly as he tried to recall the details of what he'd seen out in the woods. He held his hands up, spaced apart in an approximation of how long the prints he'd found had been. "Human lookin', almost, which is what had me thinkin' it coulda been Bigfoot. They weren't the tracks of somethin' native 'round here, and I only caught but the barest glimpse of it, but it was tall, Jim; taller'n you or I."

That sounded right; the prints he'd found and unsuccessfully tracked were, as the hunter said, 'huge 'n mighty' and matched the description of what he'd just been told. It didn't take an expert's opinion (though he had consulted one) to discern that the markings just weren't natural. Hopper set his mug of coffee aside and pulled out a notepad from one of his desk drawers. He uncapped a pen and held it to the page for a moment before writing down a few preliminary notes for himself on the top line.

The hunter cocked his head and leaned forward to look at what he was writing and said, "That don't look official."

"Because it's not; this one's just gonna be between us, alright?" Hopper said, looking up to meet Wesley's blue, watery eyes. He held the stare long enough to get his point across, waiting for a sign of affirmation before looking back to the notepad and pressing the tip of the pen to the paper. "Tell me where and when exactly you saw this 'Bigfoot' of yours."

The day was cold and grey at its start, with harsh, biting winds ushering in thick clouds that blocked out any hope of the sun ever making an appearance. Steve eyed the sky apprehensively as he made his way back to his car, wary of the way the clouds looked as though they might start dropping hail on him at a moment's notice. Billy feigned disinterest as Steve opened the rear passenger door and leaned in to shove the box of things he'd bought at the Hunting & Camping store into the backseat. Even with his vision obscured in part by the sunglasses he'd elected to wear, he didn't miss the strong look of annoyance that graced Steve's features when he came around to the driver's seat and entered the car with a pout.

"That guy give you a hard time or something?" Billy asked as Steve buckled in and put the BMW into reverse, turning in his seat to hastily jerk the car out of the parking lot. "Why do you look like someone shit in your cereal?"

Steve clicked his tongue. "He just kept asking what a 'kid like me' needed with a bunch of chains and rope and shit. My god, he just would not let it go, like he thought I was trying to build my own sex dungeon or something. Fucking annoying."

"You mean that's not what we're doing?" Billy asked, grinning a bit at the way Steve's face pinched up in disgust. "What'd you say?"

"I told him the truth; said it was to tie up a werewolf. 'It's a full moon tonight, y'know? Gotta tie 'em down or they go all crazy on you', I said to him, and you know what he said to me then?" Steve asked, speeding out of the little downtown shopping area Hawkins played host to and sounding every bit as gossipy as Carol did when she caught wind of a scandal.

"How the fuck would I?" Billy drawled, turning away from the conversation to watch the scenery pass by disinterestedly.

"He said, 'Damn fool kids will never learn'," Steve said, ignoring him. "'Damn fool kids will never learn', like, what the hell does that mean?"

Billy shrugged. "Who knows? As long as he accepted daddy's plastic then what does it matter?"

Steve clicked his tongue again in annoyance and rolled his eyes. "Fuck you."

Feeling the beginnings of a headache coming on, Billy declined to retort. They rode on in silence, the chains in the box Steve had bought clinking together softly in the backseat before the radio was finally turned on to mask the sound.

Regardless of whether or not Steve actually believed something was going to happen to Billy that night, he couldn't deny that the whole day leading up to that evening just felt… off. From meeting up with Billy earlier that afternoon to go by the camping store, to grabbing lunch together before heading over to the Henderson's house, it all felt wrong.

It was something Steve had difficulty pinpointing the origins of, but as they began work on clearing out enough space in the cellar for Billy to do whatever it was he thought he was going to do, he soon came to realize that the feeling of wrongness seemed to stem from Billy himself.

Few words could better describe Billy than 'annoying' or 'smart-mouthed', but he'd been uncharacteristically tight-lipped all day. He'd become a remarkably dull version of himself, and Steve wasn't sure quite how to handle that.

Usually one to argue and bite back at everything Steve said, when he'd begun dishing out instructions on how best to clear out some floor space in the cellar, Billy hadn't talked back to him a single time; merely lit a cigarette and blinked at him slowly, silently acknowledging what had been asked of him before getting on with it.

It was unsettling. Steve could almost say that he hated how submissive Billy was because of how used he'd gotten to the back-talk and smart-ass remarks Billy usually had ready for him, and though, yes, there were times he had wished for this kind of attitude from him, the silence and absolute subordination coupled with all of the other behavioral changes Billy was exhibiting were enough to set Steve on edge.

Billy kept tonguing the gaps in his teeth where they'd fallen out over the course of the week, and he never seemed to realize he wasn't alone. Sometimes he'd jump at the sound of Steve's voice, or shake his head and crease his brow in confusion when he turned around to see Steve moving stuff somewhere behind him, but arguably the worst part of it all was that he stank.

He'd tried to mask it with an overabundance of cologne that had nearly suffocated Steve when they began working in closer quarters, but buried beneath that was a hint of something that smelled awfully rotten. If he had to, Steve could liken it to the stench of the monster they'd encountered in the woods, but he chose not to, instead chalking it up to a severe case of nervous b.o. or something. The implications that the scents could be related bothered him too deeply to believe, and even then he wasn't sure he really wanted to know what the source of the smell was.

The stench of decay emanating from Billy's person was worrisome enough on its own, but with so much to do in order to get ready before sunset, Steve had a hard time figuring out where to primarily apply his focus: there were simply too many things going on for him to worry about one thing more than another.

The giant hole in the wall that Dart made to tunnel out of the cellar was his immediate concern, but Dustin had done a good job of hiding it from his mother by placing a tall shelf in front of it, essentially blocking it off. That didn't mean it wasn't entirely inaccessible, but Steve wasn't sure what more he could do about it. In all honesty, he'd forgotten about it until he'd tried to move the shelf aside and then found himself peeking into the eerie tunnel. He'd knocked over several things in his haste to put the shelf back in place, but Billy hadn't seemed to notice it, and if he didn't, maybe he wouldn't think to use it if- or when- he lost himself to whatever supernatural effects he was experiencing.

"Big if, though," Steve muttered aloud to himself. Turning away from the shelf, he looked over to where Billy was inspecting some old power tools, turning a nail gun over in his hands before setting it back in the box he'd pulled it out of. "So, are we good or what? This baby-proofed enough for you?" Steve asked, startling Billy out of whatever ruminations he'd been lost to.

Billy looked at Steve blankly, face impassive and emotionless. He frowned, and then looked around himself as though he'd forgotten where he was. When he spoke, his voice was monotone and devoid of his usual arrogance as he said, "I don't know, Harrington; is it?"

"You tell me, man, this was your idea." Steve watched as Billy returned his focus on the box of tools he'd originally been rummaging through. Picking up a hammer, Billy balanced its weight in his hands before gripping the handle tightly. Steve distrusted the look in Billy's eye as he held it. "What are you, a child? Quit rifling through their shit, put it back," he said.

Billy didn't reply or even acknowledge that he'd heard him. Ignoring Steve's demand, he stepped up to the abandoned work bench to splay his left hand out over the wood and lifted the ballpeen up.

"What the fuck are you doing? Put it down," Steve said again, his voice rising slightly in pitch when he understood what Billy was doing. He started towards him in an effort to stop him, but halted when the hammer was brought crashing down.

It missed his hand, but the force of the impact splintered the wooden table's surface. Steve gaped as Billy turned around, a cocky little smile turning up his lips.

"Someone could get hurt real bad down here if they weren't careful, huh, Harrington?" he said, a fierceness that Steve hated to admit he'd missed charging his voice. "But we've been real careful cleaning this shithole out, haven't we, pally?"

"You sick piece of shit, give me that," Steve snapped, snatching the hammer away from Billy's pliant grip. "Fuck you, Hargrove; you could've just said you wanted to move this shit out of here."

"Had you pegged as being more of a visual learner," Billy sneered as Steve threw the hammer back into the box of tools. "Your concern was touching, though, really."

"You're the one who came asking me for help, fuckface. Begged me, almost, if I'm remembering right. 'Oh, Steve, help me, I'm so scared of fake movie monsters!'"

Steve hadn't meant to rise to the taunt, but Billy's insufferable attitude had him stooping to his level as he hoisted the hefty box of tools in his arms and lugged them over to the stairway. Billy laughed dryly at Steve's mocking tone.

"We both wish that fucking thing had been fake," he said as Steve placed the box on the ground at the foot of the stairs beside the box of supplies he'd bought earlier. They were both quiet for a moment, their attempt at a conversation dying as quickly as it had been brought on.

"Only one thing left to do then," Steve said morosely.

Billy blinked and turned to face the stairway, eyes rising slowly up to where the cellar doors were propped open wide. Steve felt the guilt of having to lock him in prematurely and had to remind himself that he wanted to be locked in.

"Better hop to it then, Harrington," Billy said lowly, lips curling back into a familiar grin, but without all his teeth in place to flesh it out, Steve found the display to be more unsettling than annoying. "Let's get this sex dungeon set up."

Steve grimaced. "Not even in your wildest dreams, Hargrove."

"Nothing's off the table in my dreams, pretty boy." Billy breathed out a small laugh at the disgusted look on Steve's face, but the grin he'd been displaying slowly fell away. "Is it getting dark yet?"

"Uh, kind of, but the sun hasn't set yet," Steve replied, stepping up into the stairwell to check the status of the sky. It was as dull and grey as it had been all day, the overcast weather acting as a harbinger for the snowfall the local meteorologist had foretold was coming. "If you took off those fucking sunglasses you'd be able to tell."

"These are for your benefit as much as mine," Billy snapped, frowning suddenly.

"Yeah, okay, whatever that means," Steve said dismissively as he began to fish out the cords of rope from the box, letting them spool out onto the ground before gathering them into his hands. "How do you uh, how do you want to do this?"

"Aw, is this kitten's first time tying someone up?" Billy purred, not moving from where he stood in the middle of the cellar, directly under the light. "Who knew 'King' Steve's favourite flavor was vanilla."

Steve rolled his eyes as he brought the ropes over, wrinkling his nose at the mixed smell of rot and cologne that got stronger with proximity. "I've dated girls kinkier than you'd know what to do with," he retorted as he gestured for Billy to hold out his hands.

"Oh please," Billy said with a snort, "there are no kinky girls in Hawkins or I would've found them by now."

"You're obviously not looking hard enough," Steve muttered in response, gesturing again for Billy to hold out his hands.

Shrugging out of his leather jacket and tossing it over the work table he'd splintered, Billy held his hands up obediently and watched stoically as Steve wound the rope around his wrists, binding his hands together roughly.

"What's should our safe word be?" Billy teased, smirking as Steve wound another, longer length of rope over the original knot.

"There is no safe word because this isn't a sex thing!" Steve insisted angrily.

Flustered, he sighed irritably as he wound the long part of the rope around Billy's waist, hating how close he had to get in order to make sure the rope was tight enough, though Billy seemed to be enjoying how close he'd gotten. He kept shifting his weight around, trying, it seemed, to get Steve into a more compromising position. Annoyed, but determined to finish, Steve did his best to ignore Billy's constant movement and the disgusting, rotten musk that was wafting off of his person to finish tying him up.

"Why do you fucking stink so goddamn badly?" Steve finally asked with a scowl, repressing the urge to gag as he tied the ropes off into a clumsy knot. He stumbled away from Billy, reaching up to pinch his nostrils shut so he wouldn't have to smell the rot anymore, but the rancid scent seemed to have lodged itself deep into his nose. "You smell like a dead Calvin Klein model or something, holy shit, did you use a whole fucking bottle?"

The amusement Billy had held while taunting Steve left his face. His smirk shrunk into an awkward grimace as he looked away in embarrassment.

"I don't know, alright?" he admitted bitterly. "It doesn't matter how much I bathe, and between that and my eyes I have no idea what the fuck's going on with me."

"What about your eyes?" Steve asked hesitantly, unsure if he really wanted to know the reasoning behind why Billy had insisted on wearing sunglasses all day.

Billy faltered for a moment, hesitating briefly before reaching up and plucking the sunglasses off his face. With both hands bound together, he awkwardly folded the legs against the lenses and tucked them into the collar of his button up. He turned his gaze to Steve, who couldn't help but suck in a slight breath of surprise.

His eyes were so bloodshot they looked ready to start bleeding straight out of the sockets. There were hardly any whites left in the sclera to be seen as Billy winked at him, looking immensely uncomfortable at the way Steve was gaping openly at him.

"Do they- hurt? Or whatever?" Steve asked, unconsciously taking a few steps forward to get a better look. In the dim lighting of the basement, even the blues of Billy's eyes looked reddish.

"What's it to you if they do?" Billy snapped, suddenly irritable. He squared his jaw and looked away, unable to face the amount of concern Steve was showing him.

The worry Steve felt for the both of them in that moment grew stronger as he backed off, letting the matter of the changes in Billy's physicality drop, despite how alarming they were. "If I don't hear anything an hour after the sun goes down, I'll let you out," Steve said abruptly as he walked backwards towards the stairwell, grasping for the hand rail behind him blindly, unsure why he was so reluctant now to let Billy out of his sight. It was what they'd agreed upon earlier, and he said it meaning for it to sound reassuring, but the way Billy's lips twitched made it apparent he didn't interpret it that way.

Billy didn't respond.

"Well, uh, I guess that's it then," Steve said as he bent down, placing his box of chains atop the box of tools Billy had been messing around with before lifting them up together to carry them up and out of their man-made dungeon.

The cellar doors shrieked loudly as they were closed, a high pitched agony that erupted when the metal grinded against itself uncooperatively. Steve didn't mind that so much as he hated the sound the chains made as he wove them through the door handles, reminding him of what he was doing and who he was imprisoning as the steel rattled sharply against the doors. He winced at the commotion, but continued to loop them through the small door handles until no more could be fit between them. He tested their sturdiness by attempting to pull them open, and to his pleasure, they remained shut. The doors were secured; the cellar, as far as he was concerned, was now a suitable prison. All that was left of him now was to play the role of the jailor appropriately.

He stared down at his handiwork for a moment before the cold, blowing winds prompted him to seek shelter. Already a few snowflakes were fluttering out of the sky, flying into his cheeks as he turned away, re-gathering the box of tools in his arms and headed for the door Dustin promised he'd leave a key for.

Searching under the backdoor mat, Steve found the promised key, and true to the rest of Dustin's word, the entire home was empty, save for the cat that chirped a greeting for him from atop the kitchen counter. With a deep intake of breath Steve glanced at his watch, stepped inside, and shut the door behind him, wondering if he really was prepared for the worst. In the trunk of his car his bat waited for him, ready to be put to use just in case shit really did hit the fan, but he found himself questioning if he'd really be able to use it; bludgeoning monsters to death was one thing, but turning it on a boy he knew was only a monster figuratively was something else entirely.

For both his and Billy's sakes, he hoped it wouldn't come to that.

Shrugging out of his thick coat, Steve set it down beside him as he took a seat on the Henderson's couch. He glanced at his watch again, dismayed by the fact that time wasn't progressing as fast as he wished it was and sat in anxious worry about what the rest of the night might have in store.

But at least he was comfortable and warm.

The cellar was not.

It wasn't the cold that Billy minded, so much as it was the anticipation: when would the transformation start? Exactly at sundown? A little before? A little after? Would he actually end up transforming? And why the fuck did the word 'transform' make him so damn uncomfortable? The unknown factors surrounding his circumstances were almost worse than any of the physical symptoms he'd been experiencing as of late, and he'd been experiencing a lot.

Anxiety wasn't something Billy had a lot of experience with, but it was the only thing he could think of that explained why his heart had been beating oddly all day. It was running at a notably higher rate, as though he'd been playing basketball or working out extraneously, and brought on palpitations he wasn't used to dealing with at the elevated speed.

In short he felt terrible. His whole body ached like it was going through puberty again. Both his arms and legs were sore in ways that mimicked the aches that came with growing pains when he'd had them, but he couldn't understand why he would begin to hurt in that way again. He hadn't had the energy to work out in two days despite eating practically anything he could get his hands on, so the soreness in his limbs was unwarranted. Either his body was preparing itself for the coming night, or he was having an incredibly drawn-out heart attack.

Standing at the foot of the stairwell, Billy felt the cold permeating in through the closed opening and moved away to find a better spot to wait. He wanted rub his arms to bring some warmth into them, but couldn't with the way they were bound. Already the ropes were beginning to dig into his wrists, rubbing uncomfortably against his skin as he realized he wasn't actually that cold anyway, despite the frigid weather; his body temperature had been on a steady incline leading up to now, leaving him with a rosy complexion and a near constant fever, the long-term effects of which left him feeling severely disoriented.

He could barely remember meeting up at Steve's house only a few hours ago to carpool to his kid friend's house, riding with the windows down in spite of the severe wind-chill as they went into town to get lunch and buy rope. Even though they'd ridden together, he couldn't remember now if they'd actually talked about anything or not. All he could remember were the low tones of the radio and the resonating throbs of the wind as it swooped in through the open windows, rushing to fill the audial space between them. It was as though his mind had been steeped in a fog, and he couldn't accurately think through it: everything was clouded over, incomprehensible, like waking up the morning after a bender and being unable to remember everything he'd done the night before, but knowing all the same that he'd taken part in some memorable shit.

Would there be pain, he wondered, and would it come on as suddenly as it had to the character in the movie he'd made Steve watch? Even though 'American Werewolf' was just a movie, stories like that had to spawn from some sort of truth, didn't they?

The dim little lightbulb that hung overhead flickered briefly, drawing Billy's attention to it as he took a seat at the work table's bench, wishing his eyes weren't a dry and sore as they were.

Coming from above, he could hear the muffled sounds of a TV show permeating through the cellar's ceiling. He couldn't help but think ill of Steve in that moment, but if their situations had been reversed, he probably would have been doing the same thing; he couldn't fault Harrington for finding a way to pass the time, though he wished he had something similar to do for himself. There was nothing interesting to hold his attention, and time passed at a dreadfully slow rate.

Stretching out on the bench, he laid himself down slowly, mindful of which parts of his back hurt the most, and gazed up at the cement overhead disinterestedly. He listened to the muffled sounds of the distant television, trying to conjure an image in his mind that corresponded with what little dialogue he could hear, but the rapid beating of his heart overpowered the noises coming from the TV. He closed his eyes and focused on his breathing in an attempt to lower his heart rate, but it just kept going, pounding in a determined rhythm that seemed to be quickening with each passing minute. A bead of sweat trickled down from his scalp and over his ear as he wondered if the tingling he felt in the tips of his fingers was because of the cold or from the ropes being tied too tight.

He flexed his fingers, opening and closing his hands into a fist to try and bring sensation back into his fingertips, but to no avail. They remained numb, and the cause of which eluded him.

Frowning, Billy stiffly sat up and began to pinch at his skin, belatedly realizing that the numbness was spreading slowly down the lengths of his fingers, a sensation that sent a chill running down the length of his spine.

"Oh," he said. "Oh shit."

The pain, when he finally did begin to feel it, started in his feet. There were still thirty minutes before the sun went down.

Billy licked his lips nervously as he tried to get his boots off, his numb fingers and bound hands fumbling uselessly with the laces as the pain centralized in his toes and grew in sudden intensity. He was no stranger to pain, but this was unlike anything he'd ever felt before: it was sharp and stabbing, with each throb of pain stemming from the bones in his toes, as though they were growing more pointed in an attempt to pierce their way through his skin as they elongated. He could feel them cracking; each joint slowly popping free of itself as the bones began to push themselves forward.

"Oh, shit," he repeated, and could hear the muffled sounds of a laugh track from whatever sitcom Steve had turned on upstairs roaring in delight as he struggled to finally pull his boots off.

The stabbing sensation didn't relent, even once his shoes lay discarded by his feet. He peeled away his socks with shaking hands and stared down at his toes.

They'd turned a bright, beet red and were bulging like they might burst apart, his skin bubbling up around toenails that were already starting to peel off. He couldn't help the whimper as he tentatively felt them, a pain like touching a freshly popped, skinless blister causing him to draw his fingers back.

It was real. It was happening.

Sweating freely now, he reached away from his feet to brush his dampened hair away from his forehead as sweat rolled down the sides of his face. He paused when he felt his hair pull free from his scalp, clinging to the back of his hand stubbornly. Billy stared at the loose, curly strands with a horrified expression and reached up with a shaking hand to grab more. When he pulled, a handful of his hair came away easily, eliciting another whimper from deep within his throat. Disgusted and frightened, he threw his hair away to the floor.

Breathing quickly, he hastily rubbed his hands free of the loose strands in a panic and tried to calm himself. His whole body trembled as he breathed in deeply through his nose, wondering if he should try to call out to Steve to alert him that the worst case scenario was indeed unfolding. Another laugh track from upstairs came through the ceiling as he felt a sharp, sudden stab of pain in his ribs, prompting him to gasp loudly and curl forward over himself. He could actually feel some part of his ribcage shifting inside his torso as he tucked his arms in to his sides. Any lingering thoughts of trying to remain calm left him as he transitioned from panic to full on fear.

He stood up not knowing what he was going to do, but regretted it instantly: as soon as he put weight on his foot, his ankle collapsed in on itself and brought him to the floor. A shout almost came out with his fall, but he managed to internalize the pain as he was used to doing and grit his teeth as his foot essentially broke itself in half.

The central part of his foot that arched snapped without warning. Billy swore loudly and reached for his foot instinctively, wanting to hold the break in place, but he couldn't bear the agony that came with the contact. Warm tears leaked from his eyes, and when his other lateral arch also split in half, he couldn't help but cry out.

From up above, the noises coming from the television ceased. Steve must have heard him and was listening for him now, trying to gauge whether or not he should intervene. Billy clenched his jaw tighter, determined to keep quiet, but gasped loudly when two of his molars gave out under the pressure, snapping to the side and coming loose of his gumline. The copper taste of blood filled his mouth as he spat the teeth out, shuddering uncontrollably when he felt the vertebrae in his spine begin to pop, one by one, pushing up against his skin that was quickly beginning to feel too tight.

Huffing in great breaths of air, he panted heavily as the bones of his tones finally pierced through his skin, causing most of the flesh surrounding them to burst open like little balloons. Blood splattered across the floor in gruesome, miniature arcs and Billy finally, finally became undone. He shrieked, unable to keep silent any longer as new appendages could be seen inside the flayed bits of bloody skin, slowly growing outward, already a part of him.

Warm tears of pain streaked down his face in thick lines as the skin of his feet continued to be ripped apart, making way for more muscle, new flesh. He wiped at his eyes helplessly and thought he could hear Steve's voice distantly calling out his name, asking if everything was alright.

He blinked, his vision blurred by the tears that would not clear away as he pulled himself over to the stairway.

Shaking wildly all over, Billy stretched out on the floor, realizing belatedly that the waistband of his jeans was growing tighter and tighter. Hissing sharply, he cursed himself for not having the foresight to undress himself as he hastily tried to undo his belt. A pain similar to the initial agony he'd felt in his toes was beginning to manifest itself in his fingers as both of his hands slowly began to turn red, swelling up under the bonds of the rope as he fumbled with the buckle, desperately trying to get it to come free.

"Fuck!" he shouted in frustration, his clothing growing ever tighter as his body continued to bloat. He felt like he was being pinched in half with his belt acting as an unneeded tourniquet. "Fuck! Fuck!"

"Hey! Talk to me Hargrove, what's going on?"

Steve's worried voice trilled down through the cellar doors as he continued vocalizing his frustrations. Billy felt an organ in his abdomen shift out of place before popping, prompting him to groan and curl in on himself before he threw up. His couldn't undo his belt as his vision began to darken.

"Hargrove!" Steve shouted, banging a fist against the steel door. "What the hell's going on? Talk to me!"

"Fuck you!" Billy screamed, unable to articulate anything else as he tried to rub the blackness out of his eyes, but the more he pressed his fingers to them, they more they began to hurt.

A pressure was building up behind them the more he rubbed, and as it increased, his vision grew ever darker. He kept blinking, over and over, feeling his eyes bulge out of their sockets and against his eyelids, trying now to keep his eyeballs in place. He was hyperventilating when he finally went blind, the pressure behind his eyes becoming intolerable eyes before it finally came too much, and his eyes popped free.

He felt them slide out onto over his checks and onto the floor, the slimy, blood-slick nerves leaving tracks of blood on his face as he became totally and completely blind.

"No," he whispered to himself, retching again on the floor as he scrambled across the cement, trying to find the stairs, unable to see. "No, no! This isn't real!"

Beyond the cellar doors, Steve had his ear pressed against the slight crack between the panels, desperately trying to understand what was going on. He wasn't sure what to make of the noises he was hearing, unable to determine if Billy was just trying to mess with him or if he was in actual distress.

"Hargrove," he said impatiently, turning his head to try and peak in through the crack to get a glimpse of what was going on, "you gotta start talking to me, man; what the hell's going on down there?"

"I'm fucking blind," he heard Billy shout, his voice rife with fear. "I can't see anything!"

His voice was shaking as he spoke, and Steve knew then that whatever was happening was legitimate; Billy wasn't one to openly show weakness.

"Okay, stay calm," Steve stammered, but he wasn't sure if that was actually sound advice or not. "It's- it's going to be okay, okay?"

Billy howled, and Steve understood that the pain that carried with his voice must have been terrible to get him to shriek like that. He licked his lips anxiously, not knowing what support he could possibly offer him. He continuously opened and shut his mouth, words of encouragement dying on his tongue before he could manage to speak them.

And then, all at once, the cacophony of agony ceased.

Steve couldn't hear anything over the rapid sound of his breathing for a moment before he finally spoke: "Hargrove? Is… are you okay?"

"Hurts." Billy's voice, quiet, strained, and barely audible over the sounds of things (flesh, fabric) slowly tearing, sounded disconcertingly like he was speaking with a throat full of water. It was gargling and grotesque; completely unlike the smooth, honeyed voice he'd become known for.

"Okay, what, uh, what… what hurts?" Steve whispered in response, fear quieting his previously urgent tone.

"Everything."

"Shit," Steve said to himself, backing away from the cellar door panels as the sounds of something large and heavy being knocked over made him jump. "Just, uh, stay calm," he said, though he wasn't sure if he was saying it to himself or Billy. From down below, he heard Billy groan loudly before going silent again.

Steve's heart was pounding as he hesitated, unsure of what to do. All the details of Billy's haphazardly concocted plan fled his mind as he tried to think back on what they'd agreed to do if something ended up happening, and his first instinct was to open the doors to go down and check on him. He looked at the chains wrapped tightly around the door handles and bit his lip before crouching down and pressing his eye to the crack.

The overhead light wasn't bright enough to reveal much, but at the base of the stairwell there was a small circle of illumination. Steve squinted, ignoring the cold of the steel as he pressed his face against the door, trying to see all that he could.

Blood stains. Torn bits of… something he couldn't quite make out. Dark masses on the stairwell; lots of evidence that pointed towards Billy transforming, but no trace of Billy himself.

"Hargrove," Steve whispered, and then shook his head to clear himself of his cowardice. "Hargrove," he said again, louder and with more emphasis, "dude, you have to talk me through what's happening down there."

He waited, unconsciously holding his breath as he waited for a reply. It was steadily growing darker as the sun slowly sank, making it all the harder to see into the cellar from the tiny slit. Frowning and unable to see anything, Steve turned his head and pressed his ear against the door. From somewhere in the depths of the cellar he could hear something breathing heavily. It was moving, too; he could hear something shuffling, moving around the floor space cautiously.

When he turned his head again to see through the crack, he caught a glimpse of... something large and hulking cross under the light, tall enough to set the lightbulb swinging. He couldn't help but suck in a sharp breath of air, his lungs and throat burning with the sting of the cold weather. The thing- whatever Billy had become- halted just outside the rim of light. Entranced, Steve found he couldn't move as it emitted a low, threatening growl that sounded more like a man impersonating a dog than an actual beast.

From his limited viewpoint, he couldn't see the way the muscles in its legs were tightening, or how it had begun to crouch; he didn't have time to react as it sprang forward, jumping up the stairs in a single leap to ram itself against the doors.

The chains held the doors shut, but the sudden impact smashed the metal against Steve's nose and soon all he could smell was blood as it drained out of his nostrils. He fell backwards, holding his nose as the Billy-creature growled again. Horrified, Steve could only sit in the snow and watch as the doors lurched forward when Billy rammed against them again, trying to escape. The second impact loosened the restraints, and all Steve could do in that moment was watch as they rattled uselessly in place, beginning to slip through the handles as they hadn't been properly locked into place.

Cursing to himself, staggered to his feet and rushed to grab the chains, but as Billy threw his body against the doors again it soon became obvious that even if the doors stayed shut, they were about to pop free of their hinges entirely. Blood dripped down over his lips and onto the metal panels as he tried to think of what he could possibly do to counteract the damage Billy had done. In an act of desperation, he threw himself against the steel and hoped that his added bodyweight would be enough to keep them in place.

If it managed to do anything, he couldn't tell. Almost immediately Billy was throwing himself against the doors again, nearly bucking Steve off.

"Stop!" Steve cried out, grasping for the chains to hold them in place. His fingers scrabbled against the cold steel links even as Billy let out another deep, throaty growl. With the doors as loose as they were, Steve was almost certain the doors wouldn't survive another body-slam. "Give it up, Hargrove!" Steve said again, desperately. "Just- fuck, Billy, stop!"

He braced himself for another impact, but it never came. Eyes closed in anticipation, Steve blinked them open and exhaled shakily, his fingers trembling as he let the chains go. Crystalized air puffed out in front of his face over and over as he rolled off the doors and stood up unsteadily, trying to wipe away the blood that had already frozen over and turned to crust on his upper lip. Somehow, miraculously, his pleading had worked, but before he could take comfort in that fact, other disturbing sounds began to creep back up to him from down below.

Things were being tossed around; the metallic clang of old paint cans being bounced off the floors and walls mixed with the hoarse, angry vocalizations of the creature Billy had become made his blood run colder than the air currently was. The noises Billy was making were at once both animalistic and human, deep and throaty and more akin to the bellows of a moose than a man or wolf.

Steve stood in front of the cellar doors not knowing what to do. Already their plan was falling apart, and he was quickly becoming aware of how vastly unprepared he was to handle the situation. He wanted the security of the bat in his trunk, but didn't trust himself to leave the doors unattended for the length of time it would take him to run back inside and grab his keys to get it, but he felt so weak without it.

Another loud, crashing noise came from within and Steve stilled, listening intently. Faintly, he could hear Billy snuffling about, and after the sun finally completely descended, all was quiet. His nose was throbbing as he stood attentively, but when nothing more could be heard, his stomach sank.

With trembling hands and his mind screaming at him to stop, he knelt by the doors and slowly unwound the chains from the handles. The fact that he couldn't hear anything coming from within didn't sit well with him; he had to make sure Billy was still down there.

He tried to shift the chains as quietly as possible, but with how nervous he was, he had a hard time keeping his hands steady. They rattled noisily against the door, grating on his already frazzled nerves as they slid free. Heart pounding madly, Steve carefully pulled the doors open and took the first step down into the cellar.

It was silent. He couldn't hear anything as he hesitantly took a second step, mentally berating himself over and over for being stupid enough to walk defenseless into the lion's mouth. He had no idea what Billy was capable of now, or if he'd even recognize him enough to (hopefully) have enough sense to not harm him. The lightbulb that dangled freely from the ceiling was swaying, throwing its light around erratically, showing him glimpses of the gore that lined the steps.

Eyes wide, Steve gagged at the sight of the flayed strips of bloodied skin that were splattered near everywhere. He had to avert his eyes as he took another step, making slow progress as he was careful not to step in any of the mess. At the bottom of the stairs he warily peered around the walls, hoping he'd only stuck his head into the lion's mouth figuratively. To his immediate relief, but long-term dismay, there was no trace of Billy to be seen in the space of the cellar.

Exhaling deeply, Steve tried to even out his breathing as he came to stand in the middle of the room, looking around to assess the damage. As the swinging lightbulb steadied, he turned towards where the shelf that was hiding the tunnel had been and found it on the ground, knocked to its side and several feet away from where it had originally been positioned. His shoulders drooped at the realization of Billy's escape.

He went and stood before the opening of the tunnel and felt all hope of remedying the situation vanish. A numbness overtook him as he recognized his responsibilities of keeping Billy captive had changed; he was the only one who knew about Billy's circumstances, and he was the only one who could do anything about it now. Distantly, and much further away then he would've liked, he could hear the muted, labored sounds of Billy's breathing as he escaped confinement through the underground system.

The burden of his responsibilities threatened to overwhelm him in that instant, but instead of letting himself be overtaken by despair, Steve took a deep, steadying breath and rolled his shoulders back. He hesitated for only a minute before he took charge and ran in after him, disregarding his urgent need to turn back and get his bat out of the car. There was no time, he thought; no time to get a weapon, no time to get a flashlight. If Billy was now as the werewolf in the woods was, then he was capable of speeds greater than Steve could muster, and every second mattered. If he lost his trail now, then it would be lost to him entirely. There was no time; he had to go now or he wouldn't go at all.

Alone and unarmed Steve ran, chasing after Billy into the dark, cold tunnel, hoping he would be able to catch him in time, and dreading the repercussions that would come if he couldn't.

#harringrove #harringrove fic #billy hargrove/steve harrington #billy/steve #steve harrington #billy hargrove #werewolf!billy #slow burn #long fic #stranger things #stranger things fic

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cheekymochiiii · 6 years ago

Text

100 Year’s Quest Chapter 18-20 Tea Time

*camera pans to me sleeping on loveseat only to be woken up by my producer throwing a mug at my face*

Me: Mother*beep*! damn it Craig you *beep*! throw that at my mother *beep* face again and I’ll cut your *beep* off and shove it up your—

*screen displays message that says: please stand by*

*screen returns and shows me sitting with my cup of tea cool as a cucmber*

Me: *clears throat* Sorry about that. I haven’t been getting much sleep lately and as a result I’ve been *says through gritted teeth while glaring at Craig* very irritable.*relaxes* I realize I haven’t aired any shows since Chapter 17, but if you haven’t read the new chapter of Fairy Tail’s 100 Year Quest then that is your fault and I’m not bothering to put a spoiler warning right now. Despite my doubts to having a guest on today’s tea time, production—I mean I thought it would be best to have one anyway. Today we’ve got someone who is on Team Natsu and has had a front row seat to all the exciting *beep* that’s been happening in chapters 18-20.

Me: *gesutres to side of stage* Please audience give a warm welcome to the little braveheart Wendy Marvell!

Wendy: *walks in waving with her cute smile* Hi everyone it’s good to see you all!

Me: *admiring her adorable innocence and then remembers I have a show to shoot * Thank you so much for coming on the show Wendy it means the world to me.

Wendy: Well I heard from Panther Lily and Carla that you’re really...*hesitates to find right word* passionate.

Me: Awe that is a very accurate word to describe me, especially considering I’m a Pisces but sometimes I’m an Aquarius. It depends which website you read but for the most part I identify myself as a Pisces more than an Aquarius.

Wendy: *confused* you don’t look like two fish to me or like the terrifying Aquarius I know.

Me: *laughs at her innocence* actually Wendy here in my world our zodiac signs are given to us based on the month and day we are born in. Each zodiac is given a season in the year.

Wendy: then what happens?

Me: absolutely nothing. zodiacs are basically there just to make excuses for ourselves and how we act.

Wendy: so it’s like...alcohol?

Me: *considers this and shrugs* I mean you’re not wrong. Anyway we’re getting way off topic. Let’s focus back on what’s been happening in your world or at least in chapters 18-20. Most of these chapters were pretty *beep* short so there’s that but I’ll take whatever dose of Fairy Tail I can get.

*production tells me in my ear piece I need to stop cursing due to Tumblr restrictions and reminds me I could get flagged for being inappropriate again*

Me: *states outloud* that’s what the beeps are for you mother *beeps*

*production slaps forehead*

Me: Sorry for that interruption Wendy. My producers are being a bunch of *beep*

Wendy: *stunned at language*

Me: *continues casually* I’m not going to focus too much on Chapter 18 because I’ve already briefly talked about it in my last show. I want to give a simple summary of it. For starters I want to talk about you Wendy and what a bad *beep* you were for being able to find a spell that allowed the non-dragon slayers of Team Natsu to actually do some harm to the dragons y’all will be fighting. Naturally, I’m curious about how obtained this spell but I’m assuming you nor the creators will be willing to share that information with me.

Wendy: *genuine tone* I’m really sorry but I can’t share that.

Me: Coming from you, I’m okay with it. So Team Natsu is officially in the battle with the Water God Dragon and boy are y’all struggling. He’s just really letting y’all have it with his magic and this is still only the first dragon y’all have to defeat for this quest.

Wendy: This Quest will definitely be the hardest one I’ve ever had to do.

Me: You guys have been through so much you barely got a breather.

Wendy: I like the adventures with my friends though. It makes my life more full.

Me: Awe

Audience: Awe

Readers: Awe

Me: You are so precious Wendy and you need to be protected at all times. I’m getting off topic again. Chapter 18. Team Natsu. Battle with Water God Dragon. *stops short statements* I mean, that’s basically it. *remmebers* oh yeah Touka defeated all of your guild mates back in Magnolia.

Wendy: I know I was worried about them too. I still am since you guys haven’t figured out what happens.

Me: *waves and says nonchalantly* I’m sure by the next chapter we will. *wonders internally have I been spelling Touka’s name wrong this whole time?*

Wendy: What makes your so sure?

Me: We’ve been focused a lot on Team Natsu these last few chapters, so I’m going to assume with the screaming-into-pillow ending the creators gave us. The scenery will most likely change come next chapter. Anyway, now it’s Chapter 19 and we are still worried about the favorite team in the world, Team Natsu. Y’all are putting up a good fight but it’s not doing much good. In fact, Natsu tries very hard with all kinds of new and secret spells he’s been holding back from us to defeat the Water God Dragon. However, it nearly becomes too much for our favorite pink haired weirdo hero and he begins to be sucked up into a deadly looking whirlpool created by the Water God Dragon.

Wendy: *nods at the memory* I remember. We were all worried about what was going to happen to Natsu.

Me: *sideglances* even Lucy?

Wendy: *doesnt get what I’m hinting at* yes of course she’s always worried about Natsu on missions and if he might get hurt. Natsu too. They both want to protect each other.

Me: *grinning* most interesting *sips tea* Natsu nearly gets sucked into the whirlpool when ta-dah! *makes spirit fingers* a scaley hand snatched Natsu from it. I had a strong feeling from that ending that the hand was extremely reminiscent of a certain dragon we all love...loved.

Wendy: *nods solemnly* Natsu’s father Igneel. All of us lost our parents that day too unfortunately but not in the same way Natsu lost his tragically.

Me: *trying not to cry* I hear that *sniffles* so that’s how we are left in Chapter 19 those bastard creators. *pauses* hey why wasn’t that bleeped?

*production informs me that bastard isn’t that bad of a word compared to the ones I had been using and reminds audience that this show is for mature audiences only despite the bleeped out words because beeping everything is a struggle for the editing team*

Me: okay now it’s on to the most recent update, Chapter 20. We find out that scaley hand that rescued Natsu is indeed a dragon! We, being the readers, also notice how incredibly and unmistakingly similar this dragon and Igneel look.

Wendy: We were all honestly terrified when this dragon revealed himself. We didn’t know whether he was there to help or hurt us.

Me: Understandable I mean look at that thing. However we find out he’s mostly there to motivate Natsu to defeat the Water God Dragon and ultimately decides the best way to help Natsu is to set the fish city on fire using its own fire. While this seemed discouraging the dragon wants Natsu to consume the fire so it will help him defeat the Water God Dragon. The dragon also says he wants to fight Natsu at his best himself. So why does this mysterious Igneel-looking dragon want to help Natsu and also fight and defeat Natsu? Well that’s what the big reveal of this chapter was.

Me: *takes dramatic pause*

Wendy: *smiles knowingly*

Audience: *holds breath*

Readers: *yawns*

Me: *SHOUTS* ITS IGNEEL’S MOTHER *BEEP* SON YALL. *STANDS UP CAUSING TEA TO SPILL* HIS “TRUE” SON. AND BOIIIIII I’D BE LYIN IF I SAID THAT BOI AINT FINE BECAUSE HE IS ONE GOOD LOOKIN DUDE. I MEAN DO YALL SEE THOSE TATTOOS?!? ALSO WHAT THE *BEEP* DOES THIS MEAN? HES A FIRE GOD DRAGON! HO-LY HELL

Wendy: *nervously sips her tea and realizes why Panther Lily and Carla called Me intense*

Me: *still raging* I JUST CANT BELIEVE IT! I CANT WAIT TO SEE WHERE THIS IS GOING AND IVE GOT A FEELING ITS GONNA BE GOOD *relaxes and sits back down* Just wow Wendy I cant wait for what this Quest has in store for us because we are only 20 chapters in and it’s been ridiculous.

Wendy: *still smiling* I know it’s an exciting quest and adventure that truly tests the feelings, will, and strength of our team.

Me: *tearing up* I can only imagine. I can’t wait to get to the end of this long and winding road but I also want it to last forever because I don’t want Fairy Tail to end.

Wendy: *stunned* what do you mean, end?

Me: *saddened* we originally weren’t going to find out what happened to y’all on the 100 Year’s Quest but then, thanks to this super cool and awesome fandom, we were able to push the creators to continue the manga.

Wendy: Wow we really owe a lot to our fandom then

Me: *nods respectingly* yes yes we do. I know I owe a lot to my followers here on the blog, er, show.

Wendy: Why’s that?

Me: Apparently 500 people like my blog, I mean show, enough to follow me for every time I post something new. *begins meaningful speech* I couldn’t be more happy or thankful for every single one of them. I never imagined I would have this many followers because I started with 0 followers and had no connections or friends on here who already had followers and give shout outs to me, right away of course, but now people seem to like what I post and I literally couldn’t be more thankful for them. I post for them.

Wendy: *tearful* that was a really lovely speech.

Me: thanks Wendy. I suppose I should make an edit dedicated to all of them.

Wendy: that’s a nice gift and very kind of you.

Me: no *shakes head and looks off into the distance* how kind of them.

To be continued...

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modharlow · 6 years ago

Text

Today was one of those days again. The sky looked stormy yet shed no rain, the sun barely peeking out for a second before sheltering itself away. People were bustling about to do their everyday work, all seeming to enjoy themselves. Oh, how you wish that were you, but alas it was not. No, you were out here, passing through Valentine, because some sorry excuse of a father left the camp again. “Probably drunk off his ass again.” You lowly hissed out.

When Charles came up to Dutch and reported the missing man, the leaders eyes happened to fall on you to retrieve him. Fortunately he also sent Arthur with you. “I trust you kid,” Dutch started off as he lead you to your horse, “but not enough to believe you won’t kick Mr. Swanson’s ass.”

Well… at least he was cautious because he was right. If it had been just you, you would’ve beat the man black and blue—mostly out of anger but if you happen to fix whatever the hell was going on in that mans brain then that’d work fine too.

It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve lied hands on him, though you never want “too far”. Given everything he’d done, or hasn’t done for better words, you going easy on him was a mercy.

”Aw, now now, little birdy,” Arthur’s voice cut through your thoughts, “I know that face. Don’t tell me you plannin’ on killin’ him this time?” His tone was joking but you couldn’t help the silent “and if I do?” that came out.

Letting out a whistle, the outlaw adjusted his hat. “You ever gonna tell me what’s the bad blood between you two?”

”On my deathbed, maybe.”

”Don’t be like that.” He replied, his tone growing soft. “He’s still your father. Doesn’t help that he’s always drunk, I know, but he’s tryin’.”

You swore you’ve never felt such hot rage boil deep inside your veins. Your knuckles turned white from your grip in the horses’ reins and your teeth clenched down to prevent you from shouting at your friend. “Arthur,” your voice was tense, just like your body, “don’t be defendin’ that man when you’ve no reason.”

The ride was silent now, save for the goodhearted people that said hello to either of you as you passed, until you both made it out of town.

Arthur let out a long sigh before taking lead and changing the direction you both were going. “C’mon, we’re gonna talk this out, you ‘nd me.”

”Arthur-”

”We’ll find him, trust me. We always do. Right now you just need to explain to me why the hell you hate his guts so much when neither of you even look at each other.”

You took note at the new destination. It was somewhere away from the roads, perfect for a private talk.

Now it was your turn to let out a long sigh. You didn’t say anything until you both ended up by some trees. From there Arthur got off his horse and motioned for you to do the same. When you did he sat both you down at the foot of a tree, perfectly protected from prying ears and the possible rain if it were to happen.

Leaning his head against the tree, Arthur spoke. “When you joined our camp you were so happy, so giddy. You didn’t have a care in the world. It was… nice. A nice change of pace.”

”I was young then. I didn’t understand anythin’.”

”What makes you think you understand now?”

Scoffing, you turned away from him brought your knees to your chest. Silently, you said, “I understand enough to know he’s a dead-beat dad.”

”Feel like elaboratin’?”

It became silent again. The horses were eating grass as the tree swayed itself side-to-side, birds flying overhead in a mixture of dull colors. All were unaware of the grief and burning hatred you held inside.

Taking in a deep breath, in through your nose and out through your mouth, you started to pick at the dirt and rocks in the ground. “I was four when mama died.” You breathed out. “I didn’t know that’s what it was. Just thought she was nappin’, y’know? She’d always seemed so… tired.” You faintly turned to face Arthur. “Was like she lost her light.” A soft chuckle filled the moment. “Guess in the end… she did, huh?”

”I’m… Listen, I-”

”You wanna know how she died, Arthur?” You were facing him now, your face calm yet the grip you had on a spare rock from the ground said otherwise. “She used the exact mechanisms my father’s usin’ right now.” You turned your attention to the rock in your hands, fingers nimbly toying with it. “Turns out, you know, that she didn’t want a child. She wanted to be free… but was tied down because of me—and dad? Oh, well, he had his teachings to do. No, he could never come home on time or spend some moments with his only kid.” You tossed the rock away from you, your eyes narrowing to keep yourself at bay. “Don’t think he wanted a child either.”

”Now that ain’t true.” Arthur interjected before flinching slightly at your glare yet not faltering. “I dunno about your mama but Reverend loves you.”

”If he loved me then why the hell are we out here having to look for his sorry ass?!” You yelled, getting up from your spot and walking away a few steps. “If he loved me then why was he never there for me? When men would be lookin’ at me weirdly, or when kids would hurt me ‘cause I only had one parent? What about when I was almost kidnapped ‘cause his dumbass had a damn “meeting” to go too, huh?”

Arthur got up too with his hands held up in surrender as he took careful steps towards you. “Easy now. It’s okay. You’re okay.” But his words fell on deaf ears as you let your pent up emotions explode inside you.

”I was six when I learned what death was. I tried killin’ myself, then tried again a few months later. I was eight when I tried to talk to him only for him to push me away. I was nine when I ran away before comin’ back. It’s funny, you know, ‘cause it was like he didn’t notice I was gone.” You swallowed down the sob that desparely wanted to come out, instead letting whimpers leave your mouth. “I was fourteen when I realized he didn’t care for me. He never did, he only worries about himself—if you can even call whatever he’s doin’, “worrying”.”

You furiously wiped at your eyes, teeth eating away at your bottom lip to stop yourself from crying more. “Arthur. Arthur, I’m bein’ honest when I say this,” you took in a shaky breath, “I’ve dreamt of killin’ him. I’ve always felt free when I did it, too. It felt so refreshin’ to me. Was like chains were melted off and I could finally run again. It’s a feelin’ I chase after every time we have to look for him.”

When you looked up at Arthur with those vulnerable eyes, he was at a loss for words. He thinks back to his own memories of you being that happy-go-lucky kid he grew up with and felt his chest tighten. So was that all a facade so you could hide away your pain? How had he not noticed to sooner? Did anyone else know? Dutch? Hosea? You were close to those two but… did you ever really let them in?

”I’m… I’m sorry, I…” Those were not the words he wanted to say. Truly, he didn’t know what to say. He knew Swanson was not an ideal father but this—this is how you were treated? How you lived your life? “I don’t… know what to say.”

”No one ever does.”

After a short pause, Arthur felt his own anger begin to form when your died down. “Why the hell do we still keep him ‘round then? If he’s like this to you, then why don’t we just get rid of him? You’re the only one we really need. You hunt, fish, and you can even haggle someone almost as well as Hosea! He doesn’t do shit-”

”Arthur, I thank you for feelin’ my anger for me but it’s… I hate him, I do, but it’s more complex than that.” Now you felt bad for pulling your friend along with your emotions. You should’ve kept your mouth shut like you always had, only showing anger when it was just you and your dad alone.

Huffing, Arthur let his hands hold onto his belt as he leaned on his foot. “Well… we got all the time in the world for you to talk.”

While you dried off your wet face with your sleeve, you tried to formulate the correct words. “It’s… hard to explain. If he’s gone then… I’ll have no more blood-family. ‘Nd despite everythin’, well, he still let me go with him to join Dutch when he could’ve left me.” You voice trailed off, your eyes straying from the looks Arthur was giving you. “I-I know, okay? It’s idiotic for me to feel like this even after all that’s happened but I just—I can’t leave him to fend for himself. He lost his wife, ‘nd now I’m all that he has. Even if we don’t talk…”

”I don’t think I’ll ever understand you.” Arthur muttered as he took steps towards you. “I ain’t ever been in your boots so I guess I can’t say much but,” cautiously, he put his arms around you, “if you ever want his ass gone, just say so. Or if you… if you wanna leave ‘nd let him stay with the gang then… that’s alright. Just tell me beforehand, okay? I’d be mighty down if you up and left without a goodbye.”

You nodded your head while you returned the hug. Your eyelids stung and your body felt heavy from your outbursts of emotions, though you couldn’t deny how safe you felt right at this moment.

Closing your eyes, you let yourself get lost in the feeling of being openly loved by someone you held dear to you.

Arthur had been your first since you were first welcomed to the gang and a side of you berated yourself for keeping silent from him for so long. Still, within these moments, you felt alright. You felt… free. “I won’t leave. Not when I have someone like you lookin’ out for me.” You tried to bury yourself deep into his chest, wanting to stay with this comfort for much longer. Softly, you whispered out, “Thank you.”

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1111ljk · 7 years ago

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Request: Name

Anon Request #1: 6/8/17

two-shot.

count ➵ 1,403 words

genre ➵ angst, fluff, a lil comedy, [WARNING: some cursing in there]

theme ➵ bestfriend!jungkook

characters ➵ jungkook, you

PART 2

PART 1/2

Jeon Jungkook. It was a name so familiar to your lips that saying it would be no different to breathing air. It was a name you found comfort in, a name you called at times of trouble, misery, despair, happiness, and all sorts of things. It was also a name you screech at the top of your lungs at seven in the morning at a bus stop.

“Jeon, do you even use your new phone for the right reasons?” you hissed, fingers crumpling the collar of his blazer as soon as he was in your reach. You drag him up to the bus, scanning both of your cards (which you kept at all times because Jungkook, that darned boy, could never remember to bring his own shit).

“Duh,” he answered matter-of-factly, panting as he uses your shoulder for support. “Gotta catch all them Pokemons!”

You rolled your eyes at his statement, about to head to your usual spot until you felt yourself slightly pushed to the side. He beats you to the window seat this time, focusing his attention on Seoul’s lovely morning sight. Meanwhile, you stood with your arms crossed, a foot tapping against the soft floor of the bus. “Excuse me?”

Jungkook looks up to you, eyes fluttering as he innocently hums a ‘hm?’.

“That is my spot.”

The boy blinks, turning his head to check the headrest. “Don’t see your name written on it.”

Jeon Jungkook, you almost forgot, was a name that irritated you as much as it comforted you. But instead of arguing for it, you grumpily took a seat next to him, hugging your bag in annoyance. He chuckles in return, a breathy light-hearted one, as he slung his arm around your shoulders. It gave you a good view of him as he focused back on the scenery.

You never really noticed how good-looking Jungkook really was. That was an understatement. Jungkook was a total definition of a man. He had a jawline that even guys would fawn over, veins in the right place that girls would gladly count(creepy thought though), and big sparkly eyes that you would give in to any time you fought. Jungkook was breathtaking.

Jeon Jungkook was more than just a name to you. It was more than just a popular example at college that girls threw around when asked about their ideal type.

It was the name tag you first read in fifth grade after a couple of guys picked on your for your quirky pigtails. The owner being a chubby classmate of yours who helped you up and told you your pigtails were cute after he pulled both of them and ran. You cried, yes, but he scared away anyone else who made you cry, claiming only he had the right to do so.

It was your playdate in sixth grade that your mother had endlessly and excitedly talked about the previous night. You were definitely surprised to see him on the playground with his mom. There was an awkward silence for the first few minutes, until he spoke what you’ve been holding back to say. ‘Aren’t we too old for playdates?’

It was your first girl friend’s crush and a name she later on hated. Jungkook was notorious in his younger days for being such a heartbreaker. Unfortunately, you were his bestfriend and the target of stickly thin, baby-faced eighth grader girls’ hatred. It was alright. He promised to buy you pancakes every morning.

It was the caller ID you see every day after school in the ninth grade and up until now. It was ddukbokki on Mondays, kimbap on Tuesdays and Wednesdays, and ramen on Thursdays and Fridays.

It was a name you grew to love and hate at the same time. Jungkook was your bestfriend, your other half, basically your family. It was a name that was like air to you, you were so used to it - yet why did your heart suddenly decide it was okay to skip a beat?

It had been weeks since you felt that first thump in your heart. Every day, you started to understand why Jungkook was so appealing to the rest of the female population. Sure you knew he had a very nice face, you knew he wasn’t particularly good at books and papers, but he was the star of each and every sports team there was at your institution. Of course, you knew that if he gave enough interest, he would be the class genius as well. Jungkook was a modern prince - courageous, attractive as hell, and most importantly, he was so kind. At least to you. It scared you. It scared you how the reasons were getting clearer and clearer.

Jungkook always sits next to you whenever a chance is given. Today was one of those days. He slides ever so smoothly to your right poking your cheek as you chugged a glass of milk. “Whatcha doin’, ugly?”

You roll your eyes, an instinctive response at whatever he says. “What do you want?”

He let out an overly-dramatic, high-pitched, K-drama laugh. “Watch a movie with me,” he whined.

“Don’t I always? Like, every Friday?” you raised an eyebrow.

Jungkook grins, suddenly pouting and poking his index fingers at each other, before clinging at your arm. “I wuv you.”

Normally, you’d wince, throw something at his face. You’d be repelled by his ugly cutesy act. But there it was again, that thump. Then another, and then it got to the point where your heart was a beating mess. Fuck, you thought.

He looks up at you, smirking smugly. “Are you blushing?” he coos. “Cute.”

Then your heart was on overdrive.

Days had passed since then and now you were at his house, in the lousiest outfit you have ever put together, not really minding it since it was only Jungkook who’d seen you this way. You let yourself feel comfortable on his bed, which was almost like a second bed to you anyways.

Waiting for him to come back, you decided to set up the movie on his laptop. To your surprise, he had a password. It was strange. Jungkook was a careless and reckless man. He had no time for such things as passwords. Hell, he’d probably forget his own password. You shrugged it off anyways. You had no idea what his password would be though, but you tried anyways.

ironman97

Wrong.

ironman

Wrong.

You searched through all the possibilities in your head. Jungkook may have put a password but you were sure it was nothing complicated. After all these years, the one thing you really learned about him was that he was not a man who was into complication.

leejieun97

Correct.

What an idiot, you thought. An idiot fanboy. Of course, his love for IU never ceases. You roll your eyes and waited for it to load. He left his Facebook page open and your heart crumbled a little. Everything was the same as you had always seen except for that open chat box beside yours. Jungkook was seeing someone?

A gasp snapped you out of your ten second misery and, in your panic, you minimized the browser.

“How did you know my password?” he breathed out, placing a hand over his mouth.

“Well, genius, leejieun97?”

He blushed and threw a chocolate bar at you. “Shut up! IU gives me life.”

He jumps into the bed, an awkward silence filled you both as you stared at the desktop view. You could feel a tense aura.

“So, you saw, huh?” he finally spoke up.

It took you a second to answer. “Yeah.”

“I was gonna tell you, I swear,” he tries to apologize, hugging you from behind. You didn’t see why he needed to. It was his life after all.

You let out a half-hearted chuckle.” Congrats, loser, your ugly ass finally got a girlfriend.”

“Um, sweetheart, this,” he points to his face. “...is almost as good as your Hyungsik.”

You blinked. “Okay, coconut head ass lookin bitch.”

“Excuuuuuuse me?!” he bellowed as he pounced on you to tickle you.

That was the first time you felt uncomfortable being in the same room with him. For some reason, you wanted to go home, stay in bed all day. You didn’t understand why you hated it, but through out the thrilling scenes of Iron Man where Jungkook gleefully cheered for his favorite superhero, you realized.

You liked him.

A/N: THIS TOOK SO LONG SOMEONEKILL ME. I FORGOT TO EDIT AND PUBLISH IT. IVE HAD THIS IN MY DRAFTS FOR MONTHS LKFJGLKFD.

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swissmissficrecs · 7 years ago

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First-Person POV Fics

I just saw a post complaining about first person POV fics and I was all ??!!??!? because some of my FAVORITE fics are in the first person, to wit:

(Disclaimer: This is by no means an exhaustive list of all the first-person POV fics in my bookmarks. This is just the ones that were appropriately tagged. If I have time I’ll go through more closely and make a second list.)

Act IV by SilentAuror (39K, Johnlock, Explicit) After Sherlock is shot, John moves back into Baker Street. They spend the autumn together as John tries to make sense of his life and make some important decisions about both Mary and Sherlock. Canon-compliant, excerpts from His Last Vow.

Against the Rest of the World by SilentAuror (151K, Johnlock, Explicit) Sherlock has been away from London for nine hundred and twelve days and counting, and has no idea what sort of reception to expect when he finally returns. Post-Reichenbach.

Anyone Else by SilentAuror (39K, Johnlock, Explicit) Sherlock is in the middle of a case involving a vigilante serial killer when he discovers that John has been cheating on Mary, and not with him.

Coming of Age by 221b_careful_what_you_wish_for (13K, Johnlock, Mature) It’s not easy growing up when your father is best friends with Sherlock Holmes. It’s even harder when you stumble across their secret.

He Was a Friend of Mine by SinceWhenDoYouCallMe_John (38K, Johnlock, Explicit) Sherlock presses his nose into my hair and inhales. “Told myself the whole way here we wasn’t gonna get into this again,” he says low. His breath moves soft against my scalp, and his words rumble deep into my bones. It sounds like the open sky throwing wind against the boulders up on Baker, rattling the thin walls of the tent with the rushing force of the mountain.I hum. I don’t believe him for a second – steppin’ out of his gleaming white Ford back in Signal with his best shirt on and his curls all combed lookin’ up at me like he just took a breath after five years of holding it.I know because I did the same.

Hounds by quietasasleepingarmy (21K, Johnlock, Explicit) Sherlock enlists John's help with a case that falls far beyond his area of expertise. Post-HLV.

Mind the Gap by sweetcupncakes (45K, Johnlock, Explicit) An introspective journey through the life and relationships of Sherlock Holmes. "I can hear the bones hum beneath pale and freckled skin, this sack that holds my form together. Bits and pieces that start at the bottom and end at the top, hiding the blood, muscle, fat. Cells, knit together, constantly in motion. They'll live and die, and replicate, until total equilibrium is met."

Not Broken, Just Bent by Schmiezi (87K, Johnlock and Warstan, Explicit) "For a second, I allow myself to remember teaching John how to waltz. There is a special room in my mind palace for it. A big one, with a proper parquet dance floor. For a second, I go there. I remember holding him, closer than the World Dance Council asks for, excusing it with the fact that we are training for a wedding, not for a competition. For a second, I feel his hand on mine again, smell his sweat, hear the song we used. For a second, I allow myself to love him deeply. For a second, only a second, that love reflects on my face." Fix-it for S3, starting at the end of TSoT. Written from Sherlock's POV. If you like to see Mary as one of the good guys, you might want to stop reading right here.

Penumbra by Saki101 (46K, Johnlock, Explicit) A gothic AU of the Sherlock universe inspired by the universe of Dark Shadows (the television series), presented in four episodes*, and written for the Miniseries March Challenge at Fall TV Season Sherlock. Preview: In Maine, there was Collinwood and the three centuries of history that were woven into its walls. In London, there is Holmeswood Manor (or the Manor on Baker Street as the urban legends have it), tucked now into a city street when once its oak woods rolled from the heath to the river. John’s grown up with its stories of ghosts and wizards and things that hunt in the night. They are certainly not going to keep him from interviewing for a residential post at the Manor because he cannot afford London on an army pension and there could not possibly be any truth to the tales.

Pattern Behaviour by SilentAuror (14K, Johnlock, Explicit) Sherlock doesn't even know why he resents John's dates so much. Until the day he does know. Slight angst, unrequited feelings (but don't let that scare you off!)

Shallow Grave by SilentAuror (31K, Johnlock, Explicit) Starts as Sherlock's plane is taking off at the end of His Last Vow. When he finds out that Moriarty is alive and that he's being recalled from his mission, Sherlock decides that he should have told John how he felt before he left. So he walks off the plane and kisses him.

Table for One by SilentAuror (13K, Johnlock, Mature) Sherlock has returned to London, only to find that the John he left behind has changed. Why is he spending so much time alone in cafés, hardly eating, limping again? Why has he become so beige? Sherlock slowly begins to realise that this is not going to be as easy as he had thought.

The Quiet Man by ivyblossom (157K, Johnlock and Warstan, Explicit) "Do you just carry on talking when I'm away?"

The Progress of Sherlock Holmes by ivyblossom (62K, Johnlock and Warstan, Explicit) “I had,” he said, “come to an entirely erroneous conclusion, my dear Watson, how dangerous it always is to reason from insufficient data.”

The Road Less Traveled by verityburns (56K, Johnlock, Mature) Sherlock realises that John's dating habits involve an unacceptable level of risk... what if he meets an unusually tolerant woman and ends up getting married?

The Semantics of Crop Circle Formation: a case study by Sherlock Holmes [unpublished] by canolacrush (41K, Johnlock, Mature) "Look at these photographs," I said, gesturing to the wall of crop circles. "What do you observe?" "Crop circles," John replied."Obvious. What else?" "Are...are those intestines surrounding them?" "Yes. The majority are bovine and ovine in origin. The farmers who have acquired these crop circles in their fields have also had a tenth of their livestock murdered and arranged thus." "Why?" John said, presumably in a rhetorical fashion.I detest rhetorical questions. "That is what I must find out, John."

Through the Looking Glass by obsidienne (96K, Johnlock, Mature) When you chase criminals over rooftops, death is always a possibility. We woke up in 1889 instead. Which is not a place two men in a relationship want to be.

Tomorrow’s Song by agirlsname (24K, Johnlock, Mature) How can he think a relationship with me would be a good idea? I am the sort of person to take a break from my life and when I come back after two years, I expect to find it exactly as I left it. In reality I find it shattered to pieces. (I actually equate you with my life. When did I start doing that?)

#rec list

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ruffsficstuffplace · 8 years ago

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The Keeper of the Grove (Part 72)

The dining hall of Manor Schnee had been temporarily turned into a combination situation room/planning area/mess hall for the space and the slapdash nature of their operations.

Among other Queensguard, Agent Gumshoe waited there, pulling out a Fizzle Stick from her breast pocket, putting it into her mouth, and lighting it with her antique Zippo. The tip of the candy started to crackle, the sugar inside it melting and pouring out the other side, and she began to chew.

“They say we were all lucky that we came when we did, guns blazing and putting all kinds of holes in the plans of the Heralds and whoever the hell the ‘Council’ are,” she said. “Poor bastards don’t realize we Queensguard didn’t have the winning numbers on our tickets, and probably never will.”

Used to it, and with their own eccentric quirks beside, none of the other agents commented.

“It’s a hard life, being a Queensguard.

“You got your personal issues, your awful pasts, and your honest desire to make a difference in this world and help people out by putting holes in others, wondering if you’re a fuckin’ hero who deserves a parade, or just a gun with two legs someone else is throwing into the fray for them.

“Then you join the program, and everything goes to even deeper shit.

“Physical training that’ll make the Old World’s Marine Corps weep. School, the kind of eyebrow burning usually done by people lookin’ to tack some fancy letters to their name, have people callin’ em Dr. Whoever-The-Fuck. And don’t get me started on the third part of our training…

“Psychological Conditioning’ they call it, if only because ‘Mental Torture’ doesn’t sound as nice.

“They build us up, then seni through straight through hell and back, then send us back for however many go-arounds it takes before we break. Then they pick the pieces up, glue ‘em all back together best as they can, rinse and repeat, until they either wash out, or they come out the other side one certified Badass Motherfucker who can take on goddamn anything.

“You can’t do something like that without leaving plenty of scars, though, some of them more obvious than others.

“Take Agent Qi, here. Fuckin’ obsessed with the number 7, and his fancy revolver.”

“Seven is life,” Agent Qi said. “Six bullets, one barrel—seven.”

“Won’t say no to a mission that doesn’t have anything—and I mean anything—about it that is or adds up to seven, be it the time the shit’s going down, the letters in the name, or even the coordinates on the map.

“But if it does, you can be sure as shit he’s going to coast through all that with a smile on his face, like he’s the luckiest man in all the realm.”

“Then there’s Agent Gwendolyn, AKA ‘The Knight.’

“Lost her whole team in a mission where she was shadowing all the other functioning nutcases we call ‘Queensguard Agents.’ Almost died along with them—had actually, for a few seconds before her suit’s revival protocols kicked in and zapped her brain back to life, but either something went wrong in the process, or it was that particular moment that she cracked like the rest of us Rank 7’s did, got it in her head that the only way she was going to get through this and more if Gwendolyn died, and was reborn as someone better.

“So now she goes around narrating everything like me, except she calls herself ‘The Knight.’”

Everyone stopped as a new agent walked in, carrying a tray of food in her still armoured hands.

“Hello everyone,” Winter said.

Gumshoe pulled out the free seat next to her.

“Thank you,” Winter said as she sat down, and began to eat.

“You’re welcome, doll. If’n you don’t mind, I’m gonna continue my whole shtick with you.”

“Go on ahead, Gummy, it’s not like it isn’t all over the Info-Grid,” Winter replied.

“Thanks, doll.” Gumshoe replied. She chewed what remained of her fizzle stick for a few moments, then continued.

“And then there’s Winter.

“You’d think the name was her call sign, seeing as she’s got a reputation for keeping her cool through everything; melting her walls and becoming the warmest damn person you’d ever met in your entire life if it’d serve her mission well to butter you up before she cut straight to your heart like a hot knife; and being more than a little bit of a bitch, but no:

“That’s what her grandma named her, like she could see in the future and decided to save a future lover the trouble of nicknaming her their own version of ‘Frosty the Snowbitch.’

“So what’s wrong with someone who sounds like the mythical Queensguard Agent that makes it through training completely intact? Even someone who looks about as well-put together as can be like Ironwood has got his issues.

“Five words: The Keeper of the Grove.”

Winter choked on her food. Gumshoe picked up her drink for her, she took a long swig then sighed in relief.

“You need me to stop, sweetheart?”

“I’m fine...” Winter whispered.

“If you say so. Anyway...

“As Fear is a pretty helpful emotion for getting your ass in gear when you need it to, she didn’t beat it out of her so much as she made it so that she was scared of as few things as possible. Maybe she might get startled or uneasy, but never shitting-your-pants terror.

“It had seemed like a good idea at the time: she was already pretty well and tramautized from a horror show way back when she was still a sweet and innocent kid, and what would be the problem with being scared exclusively by someone that only existed in myth, pop culture, and really bad costumes on Eve of the Ether?

“When it turns out they live in Reality too, that’s what!

“As the Keeper was terrorizing her and her little sis in this very mansion, us crazies in the Queensguard thought Winter had finally broken for good, that this time, there would be no picking the pieces back up and gluing them back together. All we thought we were doing when we hauled her conked-out ass back to base was fix her as much as possible before we set her up for a nice, quiet civilian life with a hefty pension and a whole lotta perks beside.

“Then we all watched the Keeper 86 her sister on live holovision, and it turned out that the only thing in little tiny pieces that couldn’t be put back together was what we thought was reality.

“Nothing new, really, considering all the other crazy shit that happens in Avalon that necessitates an even crazier bunch of loons willing to protect it—AKA the Queensguard—but it still caught us all off guard.

“By the time we realized our big mistake, her sister was dead, the rest of her whole family was in the ground or may as well have been, and since she only ever kept working for us to keep her sister safe, she had pretty much lost everything she ever gave a fuck about.

“And what do you do with someone with nothing to lose?

“Give them everything to gain—namely, the Shepherd Suit Mk. IV, the latest in the line.

“First, Piper’s gearheads strapped guns and sturdy pieces of scrap metal to exo-suits originally made for hauling boxes around, then we started slapping armour and weapons designed specifically for getting shot and shooting right back, and then we shrank it down so you if you wanted to enter a building, you’d only have to duck to avoid banging your head, than break down the door and take a good chunk of the wall while you were at it.

“So where do we go from there?

“You make it smaller, faster, and strap some wings and the very cutting edge in energy-weapons to it, is what you do.

“There’s only three things that are keeping the Big Guys Upstairs from equipping every single trooper with these:

“One, it’s expensive as hell to mine, refine, and use this much Exanite and a shit-ton of other super-rare metals that all the armour, the weaponry, and the wiring needs.

“Two, it eats up power like a bus full of relapsed alcoholics at last call for Happy Hour, which is why it’s a damn good thing it can take out entire armies in the blink of an eye.

“And three, once you put it on, you can’t ever take it off—unlike its older siblings, the spine-jack on this thing becomes part of your actual spine.

“We thought we were just making the best of a very bad situation like usual, squeezing out some more use out of someone we thought we were going to have to put out to pasture, and who didn’t want to go there yet, either.

“But it turns out, the timing couldn’t have been better, because now the little sister turns out to be a whole lot less dead than we thought, we’ve got a messiah gone missing and possibly rogue, and a whole bunch of loonies with alien magitech and animal ears running about the whole realm causing hell and talking about something they call ‘The Truth.’

“You could be blind, and still read all the signs pointing to the one place that has the answers to all the latest mysteries Avalon is throwing at us:

“The Viridian Valley.

“So how many of us loons are going with you out there, soon as it gets dark and we don’t get turned to people-jerky soon as we step out the barrier?” Gumshoe asked.

“None,” Winter replied. “I’m going in with two Tinmen, and that’s mostly for recharging my core.”

Surprise came over all the agents faces.

“Seriously, doll?” Gumshoe asked.

“Yes, seriously,” Winter replied, her serious expression the most serious the others had ever seen.

“Sure you won’t end up putting your waste-management subsystems on overdrive when you eyeball her?” Gumshoe continued.

“I’m sure,” Winter replied. “I may have been absolutely terrified of the Keeper for almost all my life, but that ends now, because the face of my nightmares has kidnapped my little sister, brainwashed her, and seduced her.”

She raised her fists to the sky and started screaming.

“DO YOU HEAR ME, KEEPER?!

“YOU SEALED YOUR FATE WHEN YOU ‘KILLED’ MY LITTLE SISTER ON LIVE HOLIVISION, AND I’M ONLY MORE DETERMINED TO UTTERLY ANNIHILATE YOU NOW THAT YOU’VE KISSED HER ON LIVE HOLOVISION, TOO!

“I’M SCORCHING YOU WITH MY LASERS LIKE BOTH THOSE SCENES WERE SCORCHED INTO MY BRAIN—ESPECIALLY THE SECOND ONE!

“SERIOUSLY! WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?!”

Winter sighed and got up from her seat. “Excuse me, everyone, I need to go get some last-minute repairs and upgrades before my big mission...”

“You do that!” Gumshoe yelled, as she and all the other agents were gathered up at the furthest corner away from Winter as possible, holding up their guns and projecting shields.

Winter left the dining hall, the agents slowly returned to their seats.

“Turns out there’s a fourth downside to the Mk. IV!” Gumshoe muttered as she chewed the last of her fizzle stick, pulled out a new one with shaking hands. “If it turns out the person you put it in is STILL pretty batshit insane, getting them out of the suit is going to be a LOT harder than putting them in…

“Like I said: we thought it was a good idea at the time...”

#rwby #fanfic #the keeper of the grove #white rose

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