#just imagine the rest of her is behind a table or something lol

[quarterlifekitty]

Promethean

fuckboy!Soap x Shy!Reader x Ghost (college!au) p.2 here’s part 1

Uhh warning soap isn’t in this chapter and reader isn’t acting very shy rn lol

Simon managed to drag you, shocked and still on shaky legs, into his surprisingly clean car and across town to a little cafe. The guy with eye bags behind the counter starts making his order as soon as he comes in the door— must be a regular.

At the counter he points to a couple of items in the display case, before prompting you— you stutter out your go-to, and Simon whips out a beat-up debit card before you can think to pull out your wallet.

The largest size of earl grey almost looks normal in his large hand, a plate of pastries in his other mitt. You grab your own drink and follow where he tilts his head in gesture.

When you sit, he pushes the plate towards you. Like he’s dropping a fresh kill at your doorstep—a courting gift. Eat. Be provided for, sensitive doe. You pick up a danish, if only to ease the clench of his fist on the table. He pulls the black surgical mask down to sip his tea in a way that’s almost hilariously delicate given his permanent scowl.

You couldn’t have sat in silence for more than 10 minutes. But it feels like a lot longer.

“Simon. What are we doing here?” You probe quietly. Saying his name when you’ve never actually been introduced to each other feels wrong. Like you’ve stolen a piece of him that he hasn’t given freely.

“He never takes you out,” he grunts. As if that explains anything.

“It’s not… what we have isn’t like that.”

——

Simon chews on your overly diplomatic response for a minute. That’s what it must be, chewing— why else would he grind his teeth together when his tongue is still wet with his favorite soothing beverage?

You’re kind. Kinder than the mutt deserves.

“But you want it to be.” He says it with an almost biblical level of finality. Your pastry making the plate clink against the table as you drop it back down.

“What would you know about what I want?”

“You’re an easy read. S’how y’got yourself in this situation. Soap’s not exactly a rocket scientist when it comes to chattin’ up birds, you’re jus’ an open book.”

Simon shamelessly stares at your lips as they quirk in anger— so unused to vitriol. It’s gorgeous.

“So he’s using me. I know. Is that what this was about? Taking me on a pity date to let me down gently? Or did you just wanna see if you could have a go as well?”

Seeing you like this. It’s something else. He’s seen you mope around so many times, silently begging for crumbs that will never be tossed your way. It’s even harder to pull his gaze from you, now that you’re hissing. He wants to dig his teeth into your heart shoulder and rip out the bruise Johnny left you with.

Soap is his best friend.

“He’s a dickhead. You don’t need him. You’ll find something better.”

Simon has never been what he would call “something better”. Not in any sense. But this might be the first time he’s wanted to be.

“I won’t,” you say with the lower half of your face hidden by the sipping of your drink. As if it’s quenched your fire, and all that leaves you is vapor. “I’m not… the type.”

He gets it. Really, he does. He’s not the type either— or so he’s thought. You’re making him wonder if he’s imagined that about himself— the same way you’ve clearly imagined it about yourself.

“What’s the rest of your day look like?”

“…Nothing set in stone.” The not that it’s any of your fucking business goes unspoken, but is plain to see in the air between you.

“Lemme take you around. On a date. Be mine for today. If y’hate it, I’ll drop you back at yours and the next time you come round, I’ll mind my business and keep the door closed.” Well, that’s the most you’ve ever heard him say in one go. And it begs a question.

“What happens if I like it? You’ll fuck me in a different room of the same frat house?” Your unimpressed look makes him feel ravenous. She-wolf is threatening to turn her eyes from the display. Rejection. Not an option. “Or maybe you’ll ask me to go steady,” you huff under your breath like it’s a bad joke.

“If y’like it, then you’ll stay mine, and y’won’t fuckin’ want for anything. You’re supposed to be worshipped, not begging for scraps at a mutt’s door.”

He really didn’t mean to say it like that. He meant to bite his tongue. He’s trying not to think of how hot it would be if his intensity scared you into pissing yourself. He’s trying not to let himself show through the lines. It’s not working. Any of it.

The venomous bile that spills from behind his teeth reminds him that his eloquence is just one of many reasons why he’s single. Why he should be muzzled instead of kept. He doesn’t know why he’s taking it upon himself to do this. Selfishness, maybe. There’s plenty of better men he could’ve put up to the task, easy. The man who wants to feel blood on the back of his throat makes a terrible savior.

He feels like he can see your pupils dilate. You pick up your danish again and take a bite. You hold it out for him to try. It’s a test. You don’t think someone with eyes like his can handle doing cutesy, saccharine things. Like what couples do. That must be it.

He tries not to think of his teeth going past the flakey flesh of the pastry and sinking into your fingers. When his tongue meets the butter between the layers, he tries not to think of the salt sweet flavor of your sweat and tears. A seed from the blackberry jam gets thoughtlessly crushed between his molars— he hopes the bitterness will suddenly wake him up and he won’t be a beast crying for love at the heart of the world anymore.

It doesn’t.

[lulunothulu]

Okay hear me out…Ballerina!Reader x Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin. One day he passes a dance studio and sees reader practicing and he’s mesmerized by her grace and elegance. He ends up seeing her at the Hard Deck and when he tries to flirt with her, she’s completely and totally unimpressed with his antics. It’s like a couple weeks later when he runs into her again and tries a more toned down approach which she seems more open to.

That or maybe like head cannons if they’re dating? I just think it’s cute to picture a douchebag losing his mind at the pretty girl not giving him an ounce of attention he so desperately craves. 🤭

OMG I LOVE THIS I also know nothing about ballet so let’s see how this goes lol I’d also like to apologize for taking so long to post this 😭 depression likes to kick my ass sometimes. 

"A Pretty Ballerina"

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Ballerina!Reader

“Short cut it is,” he mutters.

Jake thought he would take the short cut to base, something he rarely did because it required walking through the little stores that were scattered throughout town. Today the little streets were slightly busy. Cars drive by him on their way to work or school, there’s civilians walking in and out of shops—probably buying things they don’t need.

He’s in the middle of passing a dance studio when he turns to look in and that’s when he sees you.

You’re beautiful.

Slender body moving like liquid at whatever it is you’re dancing to. Your arms move like wings of a bird and you’re standing on your tiptoes in some ballet shoes.

A ballerina. The prettiest one he’d ever seen.

Not that he’d seen a lot…but still.

You were an intoxicating sight. He didn’t want to look away—he couldn’t. How could he when the most perfect and graceful person was right there? You’re dancing so beautifully and with so much elegance, that he could barely see the way you lightly furrow your brows in concentration.

Then, you’re spinning on one leg, the other wrapping and twirling you faster and faster. He imagined the world seemed like a blur to you. He must be a blur.

And then you stop, arms stretched out and head held high with a slight smile on your lips. Then, you were slouching and arching your back. He watches as you crack you neck and look in the mirror before you.

He’s about to go in and tell you how beautiful you looked, when he gets a call from Coyote.

“What?” he says as he answers the phone.

“You’re gonna be late and Maverick is pissed. Where are you?” he says on the other side.

Jake sighs. “I’m on my way.”

He glances back into the studio to find you looking at him, eyes curious and had tilted to the side. You were even more stunning, especially with your eyes on him. Jake awkwardly lifts his hand up and waves at you, a cheeky grin pulling his lips back. You wave back and almost crack a smile had it not been for the text he received from Coyote.

Coyote:HURRY UP

Jake sighs but turns away from you, almost jogging all the way to the hangar.

~*~*~*~

Jake had forgotten all about that pretty ballerina he saw that morning. That was, until he was at the Hard Deck and saw her walk in with a group of friends.

He was in the middle of trash talking Rooster into not scoring at the pool table when you’d walked in. His words died off his lips and his eyes followed you to the bar where you now stand, a beer now in your hand and making its way to your perfect lips.

“Hangman!” Phoenix calls out. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you just got distracted by a very pretty lady.”

Behind him, he hears a few chuckles, but doesn’t give them the satisfaction of turning and looking away from you. Instead, he chugs the rest of his beer, lightly setting it on a table beside him and begins to stalk toward you.

He didn’t know what he was going to say to you. All he knew was that he need to talk to you.

He stands to your right, asking Penny for another round of beers before turning to face you and your friends.

“Hey Penny? Can you add another round for these ladies?” He winks at your friends but then focuses back on you.

“Coming right up,” Penny tells him.

Your eyes search his in the same curiosity, you gave him that morning before you perk up a bit. Your eyes practically twinkle at the sight of him, smile growing when you finally speak.

“Wait, you’re the guy I saw standing outside of my studio this morning.”

“I am,” he says. “And you’re the beautiful ballerina I saw.”

You chuckle, unimpressed by the compliment. “Are you stalking me?”

“Not at all. I saw you walked in and decided I’d come buy you and your friends a beer.”

He watches your eyes flick up and down his body and almost flexes his muscles at you.

“Are you even allowed to wear your uniform around like that?” you ask him. “My dad was in the Army and he was never allowed to go to bars with his uniform on.”

Jake shrugs and flashes you a smile. “I can because I’m a naval pilot.”

“So you’re arrogant?”

Jake is taking a back at how blunt you are, but he smiles even wider. “Why? Does that turn you on?”

“No,” you reply. Penny sets a new beer in front of you and your friends, which then prompts you to stand up from the stool you’re sat at. “Thanks for the beer…” You look at his name tag on his chest. “Seresin.”

Jake is about to respond and ask you out on a date when you abruptly stand with your friends and cross the bar. Jake is so dumbfounded by your actions that Penny has to tap him roughly on the shoulder to get his attention.

“Here are your beers, cowboy.”

~*~*~*~

It’s been weeks since he’d seen you. He even tried walking by the dance studio a couple of times. Jake was starting to get desperate and almost went inside the studio one time. It wasn’t until today, two weeks later, when he randomly decided to take his shortcut again.

And there you were.

You were in a pink leotard with a matching skirt, your hair was freely around your shoulders instead of the usual bun. You were sitting on the floor, tying the last ballet shoe and rotating your head to stretch your neck muscles.

At the side of you, Jake knew he needed to act quickly before he could talk himself out of it. So he took a deep breath and pray to God you wouldn’t call him a stalker before he pushes the door to the studio open and enters.

When the bell over the studio door jingles, your head whips up in his direction. Jake almost falls to his knees at the sight of your perfect eyes, your perfect nose…your kissable lips. He wants to scoop you up into his arms and kiss them, to apologize for coming in a bit strong at the bar two weeks ago.

“Hi,” he says. Hi? That’s all he has to say?

“Hi,” you reply. “Can I help you?”

“I, uh,” Jake starts. “I’ve been looking for you.”

Why did he say that?

“Looking for me?” You question. “Why?”

Jake clears his throat and scratches the back of his neck. “I wanted to apologize about how strong I came off at the bar.”

“Oh?”

“I’m not always…I mean I’m not—” Why was this so hard for him to say? “I didn’t mean to come off that hard. Actually some days I’m worse.” he shakes his head and chuckles. “I don’t know why I said that.”

When you laugh, Jake swears the world stopped spinning, and his heart began to beat fast, faster, and harder in his chest.

“I’m sorry I came off that way. I just think you’re very beautiful and I think you dance beautifully.” Jake can feel his cheeks and ears reddening. “And I was wondering if maybe you’d like to go out for dinner sometime?”

Your eyes widen in surprise, but then fall back into a normal size—a smile growing on your beautiful lips.

“Well, you don’t seem like a weirdo. Aside from the fact that you did try to find me two weeks later,” you tell him.

“Actually, I came this way at the exact same time every day in hopes to find you.”

You scoff. “Who, me?”

“Yes, you.” Jake’s voice is earnest, almost pleading for you to believe him. It makes you open your mouth in an “O” and just for a second, he feels like you’re about to say no.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

You nod. “I’ll go to dinner with you.”

The relief Jake feels in his chest echoes as a sigh from his lips. He walks toward you and hand you his phone. “Let me have your number?”

You smile, but begin to type in your number into his phone. From your peripheral vision, you can see him anxiously twiddle his fingers.

“You don’t get nervous a lot do you?” You ask.

“I don’t,” he tells you.

“Good,” you say, handing him his phone back. “I don’t either.”

“So…I’ll see you tonight?”

You smile at him and at that, his world shatters into a million pieces. The only thing left is you. 

“Of course, Seresin.”

he turns to leave but stops in his tracks before saying, “My name is Jake, by the way.”

“Y/N,” you tell him.

Y/N.

“I knew you’d have a beautiful name,” he tells you. He walks to the door, opening it slightly before turning back to you and smiling. “I’ll see you later, Y/N.”

He’d never been more excited to see the end of the day than he was today. All because of a pretty ballerina.

Omg two posts in one day??? I’m on a roll 😂 For more: check out my MASTERLIST

[cosette141]

You, Me, and Who You Used to Be | CS Fic (CSSS 2024 Gift for BelovedCreation)

Merry Christmas!!

I'm your Santa this year!! :) 🎄🎄

Using your prompts of pining, Enchanted Forest, and angst with a happy ending, I give you:

Summary: (CS movie divergence) After getting her parents back on track, Emma’s magic returns. But before she can conjure a portal home, Killian is abducted. Alone in a world she knows nothing about and with no idea how to find Killian, Emma enlists the only person—or rather, pirate—who would be as motivated to save Killian as she is. However… Killian’s past may just be what destroys the future. CS

AO3

Words (so far): 5k+

NOTE: This is currently only the first chapter of this fic - long story short, the fic I spent weeks on just was not coming together, so I last minute changed to this one. It was an idea I had written the beginning of years ago that I remembered when I was trying to find something to align with the prompts you gave me :D so I knew it would be perfect to write for your gift!! I spent the past week working super hard on this trying to get it finished for you in time, but it was getting so rushed and you do not deserve a rushed gift!! So I decided to give you the first 5k words now, and I'll be updating it with the rest over the coming weeks! :)

Chapter One (under the cut!)

A/N: Story context: This is a canon divergence of the CS movie, which begins right after Emma gets the wand from Rumplestiltskin. (He does not send him to his vault of do-not-touch things in this version tho. We’ll pretend Elsa gets to Storybrooke some other way lol. I’ll also be ignoring Marian, which, the show pretty much did when it just ended up being Zelena anyway lol. 

Emma smiled at the faintly glowing wand in her fingers, feeling the warmth of the return of her magic, lighting a glow in the vast dining room of Rumplestiltskin’s castle. 

Everything was back on track.

Including herself.

Perhaps she had been trying to take the easy way out, blocking her magic from returning so she could go back to New York with no ties left behind. 

But more than anything, it was Killian’s smile now that made the warmth inside her grow even more, and if it wasn’t her imagination, made the wand spark a little brighter.

“It works,” whispered Emma, staring at the wand in awe, eyes snapping to Killian. “My magic is back!”

“I knew you could do it, love.” said Killian softly, a relief in his eyes, like it was for both the possibility of getting back home, and for the fact that he still blamed himself for her powers being taken in the first place. 

“Ah, the Savior, of course,” murmured Rumplestiltskin from his perch on the edge of his dining table. “I should have known you would have magic of your own.”

Emma suddenly realized just how much Rumplestiltskin knew. “Is it a problem that you know…?”

“It would be,” he agreed, but lifted his hand, where a potion bottle materialized. “However, I have spent the past few hours mixing myself a Forgetting Potion.”

Emma smiled. “Good. Well, let’s do this, then.” She then lifted the wand, about to attempt to bring forth the time portal.

“Wait, wait, wait,” said Rumplestiltskin, jumping down and pushing her hand with the wand down. “Not in here. You might bring any number of my possessions with you.”

Emma winced, eyes finding the myriad of scary-looking things in the castle, wondering just how catastrophic that could be. 

She looked from Killian’s raised eyebrow to Rumplestiltskin. “So where do we—“

But not a second later, Rumplestiltskin’s castle was gone, and suddenly they were outside. Trees, greenery and blue sky replaced the walls of the Dark One’s abode. They weren’t too far from the town below, and not far off was the sea. But they were in an empty enough area of the forest that no one should see anything, and nothing should come with them.

 “Well,” said Killian, giving her another smile, “ready, there, Swan?”

Emma nodded. She lifted the wand again, concentrating on her magic, on the emotion in her chest, bright and raw. The tiny flicker of a portal, like a zipper drawn in the very fabric of the air, appeared before them. 

Killian grinned. “That’s it, lo—” 

He was cut off with a grunt, and Emma’s eyes snapped to him, her concentration broken and the tiny beginnings of the portal fizzled back out of existence. 

Emma’s heart stopped. 

They were no longer alone. 

A burly, muscled man had his arm around Killian’s neck in a chokehold, his other arm pinning Killian’s left arm to his side. Killian let out an angry, surprised snarl, jerking hard against the grip. 

“Hook!” cried Emma, jamming the wand in her back pocket to hide it and running toward him, only skidding to a stop when three other thugs suddenly flanked the first.

“Sw—“ began Killian, his right hand scrabbling at the hold around his neck, but his airway was quickly cut off. Red rushed to his face, and Emma’s heart froze.

“Sorry, darlin’,” said the man’s raspy voice. “We got direct orders to bring Captain Hook in. He stole from us last night, and now he gon’ pay. Pretty stupid to show yer face in the open like this, without yer crew, no less.” A dark chuckle. “Shoulda sailed away when he had the chance.” To someone behind him, he shouted, “Lucky catch, men!”

Killian struggled against them, something angry and feral, landing a blow to the man's gut. The man growled and stumbled, and Killian reared back to hit him again until the man snapped, “Stop fightin’ or the wench dies!” That made Killian freeze, staring at her with icy horror. 

For a moment, Emma and Killian stared at each other, and it felt like time stood still.

Panic rushed through Emma's chest.

Magic.

Magic.

But she had no idea how to use her magic.

And if she took even a step forward, she'd get a sword through her in seconds.

Killian grunted as a second thug grabbed him on his other side, ripping Killian's sword from his sheath.

Panic rose even sharper in Emma's chest.

Killian swallowed, eyes locked onto her. “Go—home,” Killian managed, his eyes pleading and broken, with something in them that looked like goodbye, only making Emma’s eyes burn. 

“Hook—!” breathed Emma, running for him, but froze when three swords pointed in her direction, so close to her it made her stumble back, falling to the ground.

And by the time she made it back to her feet, they were gone.

-.-.-.

Dark had fallen.

The air had chilled. 

But none of it gave her the cold dread inside her chest. 

She’d searched for hours.

But those men obviously knew this forest better than she did, and it was easy to get lost in it. 

Too easy.

She let them take him.

Emma kicked herself.

She should have done something.

She should have done something.

She should have been spending all the time back in Storybrooke learning magic instead of shoving it away.

Because now Killian was gone, and it was all her fault.

She got them stuck in the past.

She was the reason Killian stopped trying to free himself from those bastards.

She was the reason that they may never see each other again.

Emma couldn’t stop seeing his eyes. 

The resignation.

The defeat. 

The horrible, utter sadness.

She was now alone, and she’d never felt this alone in her entire life. 

It was one thing to grow up being alone. 

And it was another thing entirely to find people, to fall for people, and to have them ripped from you.

It was an entirely different thing to know what it felt like to not be alone.

And ever since meeting Killian, more or less after he decided to become a part of something , he’d been practically glued to her side. He’d voluntarily gone back to the land he hated more than anywhere, he’d given up his revenge, he’d found her in freaking New York City —an endeavor Emma still didn’t know how he managed to do—and how he managed to find her in a world he knew hardly anything about?

Emma stopped on the path, feeling the chill of the air. 

Even the air felt different in the Enchanted Forest. It felt… unearthly, which, wasn’t exactly off point. The magic in the land seemed to crackle like a charged atmosphere. The animal sounds, the nightly coos and caws were different, and all this different was unsettling and…

She really, really didn’t want to admit she was scared. 

But Emma didn’t have Mary Margaret with her this time. She didn’t have a princess squad to help her through. And, she didn’t have Hook.

Killian, who was god knew where. 

He might even already be—

No , said a firm voice in her head, trying to quell the hair that raised on the back of her neck at the thought. They wouldn’t have kidnapped him if they were going to be quick about it. 

The idea of him suffering at all…

Emma swallowed, hard, trying to shove down the rush of panic that shook her fingers.

How the hell was she supposed to find him?

She was a complete outsider. 

She not only wasn’t from this town, she wasn’t from this world , and she wasn’t from this time, not by a long shot. 

She was trapped thirty years in the past, and Killian could be anywhere. 

“Go home.”

Emma shut her eyes at Killian’s echo.

Go home.

He wanted her to go home.

He wanted her to leave him here, conjure the portal, and go home.

The very fact that he thought she would made her chest hurt, because how could he think she’d leave him here?

But…

“You really thought I’d let you drown?”

“Given our history, can you blame me for being uncertain? ”

Here she was thinking how he could possibly think she didn’t care about him, when…

“Do you even care about them? Or anyone in this town?”

He said anyone.

He meant me.

And replaying it all, how could she think he’d know she did?

All she’s done since he saved her in New York, was walk away from him.

But she did care.

She more than cared.

And now, she may never —

No.

Emma opened her eyes, ignoring the burn in them.

Determination set into her face, Emma made up her mind without hesitation. 

There was no way she was leaving here without Killian.

The thought of returning to life without him, living without him…

It felt wrong. 

Something about him in her life just made sense. Even now, she felt like something was missing, and suddenly she was wondering how she ever considered leaving her family, leaving him, to go back to New York. 

“Go home.”

She couldn’t go home when he already became her home.

But… 

How on earth—or, how in the Enchanted Forest—was she supposed to find him?

And before they did something terrible and irreversible to him?

“He stole from us last night. Now he’s gon' pay.”

Emma blinked. 

Killian didn’t steal anything from anyone; she knew he hadn’t. He’d been too concerned with messing up the time continuum.

He hadn’t stolen.

But Emma had a pretty good feeling who had.

And Killian was currently paying for his crime. 

Emma smiled grimly, a plan unfolding in her head. 

She started walking, faster this time.

She just hoped the Jolly Roger was still in port. 

-.-.-.

Emma clung to the shadows when she entered the town. 

Thanks to Rumplestiltskin returning her clothes, she was no longer wearing the ragged dress and cloak that they had stolen, and was back in her jeans and leather jacket. Something that, Killian’s voice reminded her, hasn’t come into vogue, ever. So… she had to be careful. They just fixed the timeline; they cannot ruin it all over again.

But Killian was worth that risk.

As she clung to the dark areas of town, Emma was reminded of a younger her, living on the streets, dodging shadowy corners to pitch black alleyways. It was evening, the sky blackening with an array of stars, but the town still bustled with life, mostly around the taverns. 

Emma passed the tavern she and Killian had found his past-self in, and Emma risked a look inside, but he wasn’t there. 

Her heart quickening, Emma suddenly worried he wasn’t even in town.

She picked up her pace, following the path past-Hook had led her down when he’d been her inebriated guide. 

Emma emerged from the cover of an alley, looking up to see the sea, and ships of all sizes moored at the docks. And among them—

Emma felt relief flood her. 

The Jolly Roger. 

She smiled despite herself, picking up her pace. As she got closer, she could see the crew retracting the anchor—

They were leaving. 

Her heart pounding, Emma began to sprint. 

With grunts of heaving, two members of the Jolly’s crew were lifting the gangplank.

It was halfway up when Emma got to it, flinging herself off the dock and onto it, barely making the jump. She slid down the wood, landing in a heap on the deck. 

“What in the blazes—?!”

The two men nearly dropped the gangplank, but managed to finish shutting it, faster, as if worrying that someone else was going to attempt Emma’s jump. 

Her entire body throbbing from the mistreatment, Emma slowly picked herself up from the deck. She quickly noticed at least a dozen pirates were staring at her in shock. 

But a voice broke through the din, and Emma would recognize it anywhere. 

“Well, you don’t bloody see something like that every day.”

-.-.-.

Despite her protests, Emma had been manhandled by two of the crew members and dragged into the Captain’s Quarters a moment after she’d seen him. He’d witnessed her reckless jump onto his ship, but hadn’t said a word to her yet. 

She was currently in the chair opposite his desk, two burly hands on her shoulders keeping her pinned down, and Hook was in his chair behind the desk, staring at her in silence. 

“What are you doing aboard my ship?” he said finally. 

Emma flicked her eyes to the pirate holding her down, then back to Hook. “I’ll tell you, but only you.”

Hook sighed, then flicked his eyes to the man behind her, giving a minute nod and a slight roll of his eyes. Then, when the door clicked shut, he gave her a pointed look.

Emma let out a breath, her heart beating in a frenzy. This Hook was not half as drunk as he was when they last met. His gaze on her was cold and measured and there was no trace of the softness Killian had now. It unnerved her, this air of danger he held, sitting before her. Waiting. 

But Emma swallowed, trying to remember, this is still Killian. Just… buried under two hundred years of pain and resentment. 

It didn’t make her feel better. 

“I need your help.” said Emma at last, holding his gaze. 

His brow lifted, like that was the last thing he’d expected her to say. “My help?” he echoed, lips twisting a little in amusement. “I’m a pirate captain, lass. You’ve mistaken me for someone who gives. Pirates take.”

Emma resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the irony that all he’s done the past two years was give. 

Worry fluttered in her stomach, suddenly wondering if her Killian was all right.

And when did he start being ‘her’ Killian?

Emma let out another breath. “Yeah, that’s actually what brings me here. All I need to know,” said Emma slowly, “is who you stole from last night.” 

She’d thought it through; if she could just get the name or the place of the person who he’d stolen from, she could go find Killian without Hook ever needing to know she was from the future. 

Hook paused. 

Suspicion suddenly gleamed in his eyes. 

He stood, and rounded his desk until he was standing before her. 

The suspicion only deepened in his eyes.

Emma could feel the danger radiate off him like a cologne. 

She was trying not to shrink under his intense gaze when he leaned even closer, his face inches from hers. He searched her eyes.

“You,” he whispered. “I remember you.”

Emma’s heart skipped. “You do?” she breathed. 

She should have known it was irrational to think he meant he remembered knowing her. 

Because his eyes narrowed, coldness in the blue. “You owe me a nightcap, love.”

Emma froze. “Oh,” she said, biting her lip. “Didn’t blame the rum, huh?”

He leaned back slightly, but looked no less predatory. “I’m guessing this is from you as well,” he said, brushing the metal of his hook to his cheek where Killian had hit him. 

Emma winced. “Not exactly—“

He was suddenly in her face again, eyes narrowed, colder than ice. “You were trying to get me drunk. To get on my ship,” he muttered. “Why?”

Oops.

Emma tried to think fast. 

She did not like a version of Killian that scared her, and this one did exactly that. 

As if to prove the point, he raised his hook, tracing her jaw until the tip was underneath her chin, forcing her head up. Emma gasped reflexively, suddenly realizing how bad of an idea this had been. “Tell me,” he hissed, “or this will be rather unpleasant.”

Emma swallowed, trying to stem the rush of fear. To hell with the timeline. “I’m from the future.”

His brow rose sharply, surprise and a little confusion slipping into that cold expression. Clearly time travel was not one of the things he’d expected her to say. 

It was the second time she’d surprised him, and Emma knew he wasn’t an easily surprised man.

Before he could interrupt, she went on, wincing as the sharp tip of his hook stung. “I’m telling you the truth,” she said quickly, fear sending a shiver down her spine. “I’m from… about thirty years in the future. I think. It’s really hard to keep track with all the curses," she finished, which even to her ears sounded like she was crazy.

“Time travel is unheard of.” said Hook, dismissing her whole story.

"You spend two hundred years on an island where time doesn't even exist and this is too crazy for you to imagine?" snapped Emma exasperatedly.

He ignored her. “Now, what are you really doing on my ship? Clearly if you’d gotten what you wanted, you wouldn’t have been daft enough to return.” His eyes looked her up and down, his brow lifting when his eyes reached hers, and Emma glared at him. “And if I had gotten what I wanted, that night would not have ended with you injuring me.” A cold smile. “Well, not in the traditional way, anyway.”

Emma huffed out a breath, almost forgetting just how innuendo-clad he once was. “Look, I’m telling the truth . I need your help to—“ She gasped, the tip of his hook digging slightly deeper. 

“You will tell me what I want to know,” said Hook quietly. He removed his namesake, and Emma winced. “I’ll give you the night to think it over. Lie to me again," his voice lowering, dipping into the personification of danger as his gaze bored into hers, and she tried not to shrink under it, "you’ll be walking the plank in the morning.” He moved away from her, and Emma realized she'd forgotten how to breathe.

“Hook—“ began Emma, but Hook simply barked, “Jenkins!”

The door opened, and one of the men who had dragged her down here walked inside. 

“Take her to the brig.”

Emma’s heart pounded. “No— Hook,” she said quickly as he sat nonchalantly back at his desk. “I need—“

Emma was grabbed from behind and forced out. 

He didn’t look up as they took her. 

But when he thought she was out of sight, she saw him briefly touch his fingers to his lips, something unreadable stirring in his eyes.

-.-.-.-.

Emma waited until she was left alone, and the ship had quieted down enough to suggest the crew was asleep.

They’d bound her hands in front of her, which was their first mistake. 

Feeling a sense of deja vu, Emma felt along the ground until she found something useful. Finding something sharp and thin enough to work, she quickly got to work on the lock to the cage. 

The trouble was opening the door without it creaking, which took her plenty of precious minutes. 

Once free, she left the brig, and quietly made her way to the armory.

It was good that she was familiar with the ship after Neverland. Plenty of hours on the water had her nervous energy getting the better of herself and she’d done some extensive exploring. She’d paced the ship enough to know where its creaky boards were, so she was inside the armory in silence quickly. 

Emma grabbed the first blade she could find—a knife—and freed her hands, then took the gag from her mouth. 

Gripping the knife in her shaking hands, Emma left the armory, walking down the hallway to the door at the very end. 

The Captain’s Quarters. 

Feeling plenty of uncertainty, but needing to know where Killian was, Emma slowly reached for the door handle, glad the ridiculously loud chorus of snoring from the crew covered much of the noise she made. 

Slowly and without breathing, she opened his door. 

Emma shut it just as quietly, and the noise of the snoring was muted. 

Emma turned. 

The cabin was dark. 

And there, lying on his bed, was Hook. Asleep.

She could see him breathe beneath the blanket. 

Carefully, and avoiding every creak in the floor she knew of, Emma crept up to his bed. 

Then, she held the knife an inch from his throat, opening her mouth to wake him.

“Do I need to explain what a nightcap is to you?”

Emma jumped a mile in her skin.

Hook’s eyes were open, and he looked from the knife at his throat to Emma. A raised brow, he deadpanned, “You escaped.”

“You underestimated me.” she countered. He lifted his brow as Emma continued firmly, “I need you to help me.”

“Help me?” he echoed. His eyes flicked from the knife to her eyes. “You’re taking your life in your hands threatening me, lass.” he said dangerously.

“I’m trying to save your life!” snapped Emma.

His brow hitched higher, again flicking his eyes pointedly to the blade, then back at her. 

Emma sighed, removing the knife from his throat. 

He still didn’t move, eyeing her still suspiciously. “How is it you think you’re saving me?” he asked. 

Emma sighed shortly. “Look. I told you I was from the future. I am. I’m from your future. And I didn’t get sent to the past alone.” She took a breath, hoping telling him wouldn’t implode the timeline. But she was scared, she was alone, and without his information, she would never be able to find Killian. She could only hope that after she saved Killian, he’d still exist when they returned to their time. 

Emma sighed. “When I got sent here, you came with me.” she said finally.

Confusion kneaded his brows with honest puzzlement, and for the first time he looked almost like her Killian. “I… what?” he managed.

Emma sighed shortly. “You— future you,” clarified Emma. “You’re here, in the past, too.”

Hook looked lost in thought for a second. Then— “That was bloody real?”

“What was?” asked Emma.

He sat up, regarding her with both suspicion and shock. “The dream I thought I had of you, up until you foolishly returned.” Emma glared at him flatly as he went on, “I saw…”

“Yourself,” finished Emma impatiently. “Yeah. You punched yourself.” At his very perplexed expression, she went on, “I told him—you—it was a bad idea. So, blame yourself.” He blinked in utter confusion. But, at least, he seemed to believe her story. “Look,” said Emma, “we were on our way back to the future when some huge guys kidnapped him because they said he stole something and he needed to ‘pay for it’.” she finished in a bad facsimile of Killian’s abductor’s voice. Her eyes burning into Hook’s, she said, “What did you steal? Who are they and where did they take him?”

“You’re telling me,” said Hook slowly, “that there is a future version of me out here?”

“Yes,” said Emma through gritted teeth. “Now what did you—“

“Tell me, love,” said Hook casually enough, though the coldness in his words was back. “What is my future?”

“I can’t tell you that,” she said exasperatedly. “Already I need to get you a Forgetting Potion to make sure you get to that future.”

He stared at her for a long moment, a million things happening behind guarded eyes. But finally, his brow lifted a fraction. “And I’m just supposed to believe this?" 

Emma groaned. “What proof do you want?” she said impatiently. “Your father abandoned you and Liam; you used to be in the Royal Navy; you became a pirate after what happened to Liam in Neverland; you’re currently on a suicidal mission to kill Rumplestiltskin for taking your hand and Mila—“

“Stop!” 

Emma froze, having been angrily ticking off the trivia on her fingers, to see Hook’s eyes with more emotion than she’s seen from this version of him yet. 

“How do you know all that?” he breathed. For once, his voice lost Hook’s edge, and he sounded like Killian. The danger evaporated from him in seconds, replaced with something almost... lost. “It’s—it's been centuries since—"

“You told me.” said Emma simply. 

“I… told you,” repeated Hook flatly, words rolling off his tongue like something foreign. The edge in his voice swiftly returned as he demanded angrily, “And why the bloody hell would I do that?” 

“How should I know?” snapped Emma, her anxiety getting to her and sharpening her own tone.

He rose to his feet, and Emma did not like the feeling that he was attempting to use his height over hers to intimidate her. He leveled a look at her, with something different in his eyes, something dangerous in a new way. “Tell me one thing, lass," he began, voice casual-sounding, but underlined with something that sent a shiver down her spine, "and maybe I help you.”

“Why wouldn’t you help me?” exclaimed Emma, standing her ground. “You’d be helping you!”

“That remains to be seen.” He stepped toward her, and damn it he didn’t even need the hook to be imposing. “Tell me, lass.” Another step, and Emma felt her back hit the wall, not even realizing she’d been retreating. His gaze bored into hers. “Do I get my revenge?”

Emma swallowed, suddenly feeling a familiar sense of dread as to when the past version of Rumplestiltskin had asked about whether or not he found Neal.

When the silence spread a little too long, she whispered, “Hook—”

“Do I, or not?” he demanded, voice clipped. Cold.

Dangerous.

Emma felt paralyzed.

The Hook—the Killian —standing before her was completely hellbent on getting his revenge. He’s been at it for centuries, and the anger and pain in his eyes overpowered the blue in them, so much so it was hard to remember that Killian and Hook were the same person.

And here, Hook was his vengeance right now.

There was hardly a spark of him.

If she told him the truth, that he not only doesn’t kill his crocodile, but chooses to live peacefully in the same town as the monster? Gives up not only his quest for vengeance, but turns into a hero?

And worse yet, that he lets go of Milah?

For her?

From the amount of anger she’s eliciting from him right now, she doubted he’d be happy to know that information in particular.

So, she decided to tell him the truth.

Or…

Part of it.

“No,” she said finally, watching his brow shift dangerously. “Not yet.”

He searched her eyes, his face like stone. “Not yet?” he repeated, voice low, almost threatening.

Emma swallowed the fear slipping down her spine, hoping she was still as good of a liar as she once was. “Not yet,” she confirmed, which, still, wasn’t a complete lie. She took a breath, holding his gaze, preparing herself. 

And she lied.

“I’m helping you get your revenge in the future,” she said smoothly. “The Dark One is currently living in a realm without magic. He’s vulnerable. I’m helping you get there.” She swallowed, her entire body rigid. Hook was pin-silent as Emma finished, “We accidentally got sent to the past on our way there. That’s why I need you to help me. If you don’t, you will never get your revenge.”

Emma fell quiet, holding her head high, clinging onto confidence she didn’t feel in the slightest.

Killian could read her like an open book.

If this version of him was as perceptive as he comes to be…

If he found her lying to him…

Again …

Emma tried to ignore the fear prickling in her veins.

He held her gaze, pinning her to the spot with his eyes alone. Watching her eyes carefully, his narrowed. 

Finally, he said, “Why are you helping me?”

Emma tried not to flinch at the obvious distaste in his voice. She thought fast, and found something that held nothing but truth. “Because,” she said, “you did me a favor. I’m repaying a debt.”

His brow lifted. “Quite the debt.”

Emma felt something stir in her chest, thinking of all that Killian has done for her. “It was quite the favor,” she said quietly.

His brows kneaded with question, like he wasn’t sure why he would bother to do her a favor.

Emma was quickly becoming irritated with this version of Hook.

“How are you helping me?” he asked then, gaze boring into hers, almost as if he was trying to poke holes into her story to see if it would leak. “Why do I need you?”

It was spoken so carelessly.

And it hurt.

Emma was surprised at the sudden burn behind her eyes.

She’d brushed off Killian’s affections, his obvious devotion to her, more times than she could count. 

And here he was, looking at her like he couldn’t have cared about her less.

How could she have wasted all the time she had with him?

Getting him back now was the longest of long shots, for—and it made sharp fear race down her spine— he could already be dead.

Blinking away the emotion, Emma huffed out a breath, trying not to appear as hurt by his words as she was. “I’ve got Light Magic,” she snapped, making surprise lift his brow. “You’re trying to kill the Dark One. Do the math.”

He stared at her for a long moment, eyes narrowed, danger rolling off him in waves.

Finally, he spoke.

“I help you, and, him,” he muttered, uneasily over what to call his future self, “get back to your time,” he said slowly, “and then I will get what I want most?”

Emma felt the ghost of a smile touch her lips, for she didn’t have to lie for this one. “Yes.” 

He most definitely will. 

-.-.-.-. TBC

@belovedcreation-kitr-headcanon @cssecretsanta2020 @belovedcreation

[captainsophiestark]

Who You Gonna Call?

Platonic!Ahsoka Tano x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for Fictober 2024! Requested by @ghostofskywalker! Hope you like it Tori! It took longer than planned lol, but it was very fun to write!

Fandom: Star Wars

Day Twenty-Nine Prompt: "How did this happen?"

Summary: When Ahsoka and R2 find themselves in a bit of a scrape, Ahsoka knows exactly who to call.

Word Count: 2,343

Category: Fluff, Humor, Chaos

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

Briiiiiiiing. Briiiiiiing.

I sighed at the sound of my communicator beeping for the third time in a row. I'd ignored incoming calls twice now, but apparently I was suddenly much more popular than I wanted to be. Or else, someone wasn't taking the hint.

It was supposed to be a rare day off for me from the duties of a Jedi and the war as a whole. One day was all I'd asked for, one day of true shore leave rest here on Coruscant without anything else going on or anyone bothering me. The morning had been lovely, and I'd found my way up to my favorite spot in the Coruscant Gardens to lay in the sun, read, and now nap. I'd barely managed to close my eyes, however, when my comm had started ringing like crazy.

When the rings repeated, I huffed a frustrated sigh and snapped my eyes open. I grabbed my communicator off the table beside me, then picked it up with a frown.

"Hello?"

"Thank the Force you finally answered!" Ahsoka's voice came over the line, sounding a few pitches more shrill than usual. I sat up, some of the annoyance fading to concern.

Ahsoka was Anakin's padawan, but I spent so much time with both of them that she was like a surrogate little sister to me. And I knew her well enough to notice the note of panic in her voice.

"What's wrong?" I asked, shifting forward in my seat and getting ready to stand. I didn't need to be Force sensative to get the feeling that my relaxing afternoon was just about over.

"I'm taking care of R2 for Anakin while he's away for the day, and the little guy's going absolutely crazy! He took off on me, and I barely managed to follow him through the Senate building to Senator Amidala's room. He's beeping and screeching and I can't figure out what's wrong! Anakin's gonna kill me if I don't get this fixed before he comes back. I need your help!"

I let out a long, long sigh, then stood on the inhale.

"Alright, I'm coming. I'll be there as fast as I can, just hold tight."

"Okay, but hurry!"

I hung up, quickly collecting my stuff before heading out of the gardens. I didn't want to deal with any crisis on my rare day off, but at least it was Ahsoka and R2 I'd be helping, and not Anakin after he got into an avoidable bar fight or something. If I had to pick between interruptions, I'd always choose one from Ahsoka.

Luckily, it didn't take me too long to get from the gardens to the Senate. Even more luckily, nobody even gave me a second glance as I speed-walked through the hallways to Senator Amidala's quarters.

Nobody was in the hallway outside her room, so I paused to knock on the door. After a moment's delay, the door opened just enough for Ahsoka to peek out into the hallway. She let out a breath and swung the door open as soon as she saw me.

"Thank goodness it's you. Come on, get in here before anybody sees you."

I did, stepping into the familiar space as Ahsoka shut the door behind me. My jaw dropped.

Padmé's living room had practically been torn apart. Cushions from the couch were scattered around the room, papers littered the floor, and a few of the chairs were actually upside down. I shook my head, then turned to Ahsoka in astonishment.

"How did this happen?" I asked. Ahsoka just threw up her hands.

"I don't know! R2 found a way in here by himself, and he wasn't that far ahead of me, so I can't imagine he had time to do this. Not to mention, I can't think of any reason he would. But now he's in the closet in the next room screeching and beeping like crazy, and he won't listen to me or come out! I can't even understand what he's trying to tell me!"

"Okay..." I said, my mind working on overdrive. Ahsoka was clearly no more than a few steps from panic, so for her sake, I had to keep it together. I thought of her as a little sister, and as the older sibling, it was on me to keep it together and help her as well as I could. "Alright, let's deal with R2 first. That way, we can hopefully figure out what's going on, and maybe get some help from the little guy putting all this stuff back."

Ahsoka nodded, following me closely as I headed in the direction she pointed. R2 had apparently holed up in the closet in Padmé's bedroom, and lo and behold, when I opened the closet door, there he was in the corner. His dome whipped around to look at me, and he started screaching so loud and fast that I couldn't make out anything he was trying to say.

"R2! What are you doing?" I asked, shaking my head and moving further into the closet. He screamed back at me, but again, the pitch was so sharp and so fast that I couldn't understand. I sighed. "Buddy, I love you, but you know Anakin's the only one who can understand you when you talk that fast. Slow down."

R2 didn't have lungs, but I swear he huffed at me before trying again. His words still weren't perfectly clear, but I distinctly made out "trap" and "Padmé" amongst just about every profanity in Basic and then some.

I frowned, dropping to my knees and scooting closer to the droid as he continued to whir and beep. Ahsoka spoke from behind me, and I didn't need to see her face to know she was frowing.

"I still couldn't understand most of what he just said. What's going on?"

"I heard the word 'trap'," I explained, leaning down to try to look more closely at the floor R2 was currently resting on. "Not sure what he's talking about, but that's what we're gonna figure out. Can you get me a little more light?"

Perfectly on cue, Ahsoka lit up her lightsaber. I grinned.

"Thanks."

I used a few tools provided by R2 to examine the part of the closet he was currently occupying as well as I could. I wasn't quite up to the same level of mechanical tinkerer as Anakin, but I could definitely make do in a pinch. After a few moments of squinting and finding ways to redirect Ahsoka's lightsaber light, I noticed the slightest depression in the floor, beneath the carpet.

It matched exactly where R2 was resting his weight, like some kind of sensor plate. I swore and leaned back quickly.

"What? What is it?" asked Ahsoka, dancing around me and glancing into the closet to try to see what had caused my reaction.

"R2's on some kind of pressure plate or something. I have no idea what it's connected to, or what will happen if he rolls off of it, but... I think we better figure that out, and quick."

Ahsoka and I immediately set to work trying to unearth whatever mechanism R2 was on the verge of triggering. I had enough forethought to ask R2 if he'd been responsible for any of the mess in the living room, to which he answered "of fucking course not". Since Padmé was one of the Senators most often targeted with threats or attemtps on her life, and her room had been torn to shreds before any of us had gotten here, Ahsoka and I were both on the highest of high alerts.

"R2, what made you come in here in the first place?" Ahsoka asked as I took out a pocket knife and started tearing up the carpet. Not great for putting this place back in order once we were done, but necessary for tracing back this mechanism to whatever it was linked with.

R2 responded, his beeps marginally calmer now that Ahsoka and I understood the problem and were working on solving it. He said he'd been plugged into one of the building's computer terminals and had found some electronics that weren't supposed to be there, along with a few suspicious messages. So, he'd come here to do something about it.

"But why didn't you tell me what you were doing?" Ahsoka continued. "You know I could've helped you, little buddy."

R2 screeched his response again, something along the lines of concern for Senator Amidala, since he hadn't been sure whether or not she was in her chambers. If she had been here, every extra second wasted could be enough for Padmé to unknowingly trip the trap and suffer whatever terrible fate someone had tried to set up.

I very carefully resisted the urge to point out that, almost certainly, Padmé was with Anakin today. We all knew it was probably true, but we all had a silent agreement not to talk about it unless Anakin finally brought it up himself.

After a little more work, I finally managed to trace some wiring back to the back wall of Padmé's closet. R2 was in a position that made examining where the wires led incredibly difficult, but we also didn't have much choice but to leave him where he was. I climbed on top of the little droid, leaning and manuevering to get the best angle possible, which still wasn't very good. This time, it was Ahsoka's turn to come to the rescue.

"Let me switch places with R2."

I straightened up immediately, facing her with a glare.

"Do you know how dangerous that would be? Both in the immediate, and in the long term? You're lucky I haven't thrown you out of this room yet to keep you safe, since R2 and I are the only ones who have to be in here."

Ahsoka feined shock, then looked around from side to side in sarcastic astonishment. I frowned more deeply as she looked back at me.

"That was strange. My master's not here, but I could swear I just heard him speak."

I huffed a long sigh and rolled my eyes. Ahsoka comparing me to Anakin was a low blow, and she knew it.

"Come on," she continued, moving forward and putting her foot next to R2's on the floor. "We both know I'm easier to maneuver around than R2, and there's no other way for you to get to whatever's back there."

I let out a long, long sigh, but stepped back out of the closet for a moment anway.

"Fine. But if I say run, you run."

"Got it."

I watched as R2 and Ahsoka carefully switched places, ready to help in an instant if either of them needed me. After some very cautious maneuvering, we finally landed with R2 out of the closet and Ahsoka making herself as small and out of the way of the back wall as possible while still keeping one foot on the pressure plate, pushing it down. Just like she'd said, I had much more room to look at and work on the back wall of the closet like this than with R2 crammed in here.

I pried back one of the panels of Padmé's closet, and I almost ruined everything by jumping back and taking Ahsoka with me. Someone had put a bomb in Padmé's closet.

"What? What is it?" demanded Ahsoka as I did my best to get a grip on myself. I swore and took a few deep breaths, then shook my head as I responded to her.

"It's a bomb. Holy shit, don't move. We need to get rid of this, now."

Ahsoka froze as I took my tools and got to work. There was no time or room in my mind for doubt, I just had to trust my skills and the Force and get this thing disarmed.

Time seemed to stop while I worked, but finally, I disconnected the last wire. I pulled the thing out of the wall, gently, and let out a long sigh.

"Okay, you can move," I said, stepping back into the bedroom with Ahsoka while R2 waited anxiously. "We need to get this down to the Coruscant guard, now. And obviously tell Anakin and Padmé when they come back. But, on the bright side, the trashed room is evidence. Which means we can't clean it up."

Ahsoka and I shared a smile, then she nodded, and the three of us headed out of Padmé's room, taking extra care to secure the door behind us. After a few steps, Ahsoka spoke up.

"When we tell Anakin the story... can we leave out the part where R2 almost got away from me, and I called you in a panic about it?"

I grinned. "I don't know. What do you think, R2?"

He chirped and hummed in a way that told us he was happy to go along with Ahsoka's idea.

"That sounds like a yes to me. For Anakin's sake, the three of us were being responsible and calm when we discovered the threat, and we almost immediately brought it to the Coruscant Guard. Without ever tripping any traps or sensor plates."

R2 gave a happy little chirp of agreement, and Ahsoka shot me a relieved smile while giving R2 a little pat on the head. We made it another few steps, R2 getting a little further ahead of us, before Ahsoka spoke up again, keeping her voice quiet.

"So why do you think R2 was checking Senator Amidala's wiring and security so carefully?"

I fought the urge to smile, and ended up with something closer to a smirk.

"Technically, he's her astromech, isn't he?" I said mildly. When I glanced over at Ahsoka, I found her grinning without bothering to try to stop it.

"That's right. Can't imagine there's any other reason."

"Of course not."

The two of us glanced at each other and shared a smile, then carefully returned our attention to the task ahead. Still, I don't think either of us were going to be surprised when Anakin and Padmé returned here at almost exactly the same time tonight.

We were just too good of friends to say anything about it. And Anakin knew us well enough to hold his own in the sibling war, if either of us decided to start it.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989 @space-helen @misshale21

[numberonetacostan]

I'm coming here to say. Taco does NOT gaf about her health. I picture her getting shot someday for some reason and kicking and screaming when the others try to drag her to an hospital or medical room. She is huffy and stubbornly insist that she is fine and she does not need their foolish help. She would not relent until her body practically forces her to relent. I think pickle is like carrying her all panicking like ''WE NEED TO GET YOU MEDICAL ATTENTION NOW'' and taco despite everything being so angry and answering him with ''I'm sorry pickle...IS THIS OUR GUNSHOT WOUND?!?!'' because the man is like insanely worried for her and her health and is practically DRAGGING her, to get medical help. she is annoyed by the moment but when she is like on the hospital bed thinking she finds it sweet that he still didn't left her to die. Taco thinks lowly of herself so, I feel she does not truly understand pickle kindness when these stuff happens, she brings it up to him and pickle looks at her with the most concerned face ever because taco he may be bitter and resentful but he does not want you DEATH taco. I'd like to think this is a bit of the moment they slowly begin to find a bit of a more common ground. There is a lot to be understood they could never be friends again, but, they slowly begin to look out for each other more often. There is something I love and its pickle looking out for knife to find him trying to get a dissociated taco out of her room to eat something, its a bit of, looking at the vulnerability taco displays in post-canon that makes him frown and perhaps just put some pillows in the couch so she can rest more comfortably.

I feel, pickle is pretty scared or at least shaken up by earthquakes, so like after the finale if an earthquake hit taco would be worriedly pacing onto the woods and all her thoughts are pickle and if he's alright, and before she knows it she sneaks into the hotel and places some warm tea on his door. This ends up becoming an habit, everytime there is an earthquake, taco will sneak into the hotel the best of her abilities and place a cup of tea right under his door, and pickle finds out it was her in post-canon when an earthquake hit and she placed some tea on his table and he finally connects the dots (especially because the one leaving tea at his doorstep didn't left any, because she already gave him tea after all.) when questioned about it I imagine taco reluctantly confirms it and tries to leave but hears a quiet ''thank you.'' coming from behind. They may never be the same again but, that doesn't mean they have to hold onto that heartbreak and resentment forever. (as a fun fact I'd like to think they both would team up to mess with OJ and OJ fucking hates it.)

Hi Kiara!!!!^^ Welcome back, and thank you for submitting more hcs!!! :] I'm sorry this took so long to answer!!! I was going to respond to it with the others I went through last night but I quite literally fell asleep in the middle of typing. I was sleepy lol.

NO SHE DOES NOT INDEED

OMG insisting she's fine while she's horribly injured Taco, yes please!!!! Cuz she'd definitely do this before she tries to change and be more open/honest, but even after, if she's in a lot of pain and not thinking straight I can def see her falling back on hold habits, yeah? And she has such a high pain tolerance and is so good at ignoring her body's signals after her time in the woods that I can really really see her not giving in until she physically can't resist at all anymore!!!!! Might make her own injuries worse with her struggling, yeah? >:)

Please you can't send me things as funny as "'I'm sorry pickle...IS THIS OUR GUNSHOT WOUND?!?!" I will stop replying to asks because I will be too busy LAUGHING!!!! /lh /j /vpos!!!!^^ OUGH and it being Pickle who's carrying her!!^^ But Taco is putting on her angry and venomous persona because it's a high stress situation and she's falling back on what's familiar AAAA!!!

And she would find it so sweet after!!! AUGH girl is so very robbed for positive attention and self-loathes so hard she genuinely doesn't understand why anyone, especially Pickle of all people, would want to save her. Her being so honestly surprised when Pickle says he doesn't want her dead even if he's upset with her hurts my heart and you know what I think it would hurt his too even. He's a nice guy!! I am so on the Pickle not wanting to see Taco suffering or hurt train even if he doesn't want to be her friend again so hard. I am the conductor of the train!!!!!!!!!!!! >XD

And them finding more common ground!!! Yes please!!! He does not want to be friends with her again and she must and will respect and accept that!!! But there doesn't have to be vitriol, yeah? He. Would. Not. Enjoy. Her. Pain!!!! hdusihu he would get her help if he saw her dissociating!!! Convincing Taco to eat something!!! <3<3<3

Oh my god and if his fear of earthquakes is something he shared with Taco specifically while they were friends. No one else knows, at least until later. AUGH her giving him her tea as a LOVE LANGUAGE!!!! GAH!!!!^^ Giving tea is such a wonderful love language. (Projecting). And then in post-canon she gets the courage to give him the tea more directly!!! AAAAAA!!!!! AHUgghgh her admitting she's been thinking of him all these years even if she hadn't apologized yet. GUFAH. "They may never be the same again but, that doesn't mean they have to hold onto that heartbreak and resentment forever." YOURE SO RIGHT KIARA YOURE SO SO RIGHT. They may not be besties again but they don't have to have bitterness aaaaaaa!!! They can just. Peacefully exist in the same place!!!!!^^

[frutigerfischl]

OH MY BODY, I HATE THIS BODY

⌗ SONG┆skeleton bones ★ ₊ ˚⟡

⌗ TAGS ┆m!reader, mlm, trans reader, trans comfort, body dysphoria, gender affirming treatment, slight angst to fluff ★ ₊ ˚⟡

⌗ NOTE┆more baizhu content bc I really love him he's my cutie patootie fr, I'm trans so I'm self projecting a lot here lol, basically reader getting gender affirming treatment from baizhu and just overall very fluffy and comforting, song isn't really related to the scenario I just like to name my fics after song lyrics and link the songs so you can listen if you wish, that's all sorry for the yapping ★ ₊ ˚⟡

The familiar scent of herbs clung to the air, heavy and comforting in its complexity. You pushed the wooden door to Bubu Pharmacy open, the gentle chime of the bell marking your arrival. Baizhu stood behind the counter, carefully decanting a viscous green liquid into a set of glass vials.

"Y/N," Baizhu greeted, his voice as smooth and measured as always. He looked up, the faintest smile curling his lips. "I was wondering when you’d come by. Qiqi’s been asking about you."

"She’s sweet," you replied, stepping inside fully and closing the door behind you. "I missed our last walk. I’ll make it up to her soon."

Baizhu’s perceptive eyes lingered on you just a moment too long—not enough to feel invasive, but enough that it unsettled you. His gaze often had that effect, as though he could see the tension woven through your shoulders and the way you hugged your jacket close, despite the warm spring breeze outside.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, his tone gentle. "And I don’t mean your usual complaints about sore muscles or sleepless nights. You’ve been carrying something heavier than that."

You hesitated, already preparing to deflect. "I—"

"It’s alright," Baizhu interrupted softly. "You don’t have to answer right away. Come sit. Let’s talk."

Baizhu led you to one of the chairs in the consultation room. His movements were slow and deliberate, the way he always was—graceful yet burdened by the chronic ailments you’d heard whispers of in town. He sat across from you, folding his hands atop the table.

"I..." You trailed off, unsure where to begin. Your hands fidgeted with the hem of your sleeve. "It’s... I’ve been feeling off. I keep looking in the mirror, and it’s like..."

"Like the reflection doesn’t match who you are," Baizhu finished for you, his voice kind.

Your throat tightened, and you nodded. "Yeah. I thought maybe I could just ignore it, push it down like I always do, but... it’s getting harder. Some days I don’t even want to leave my apartment."

Baizhu hummed in understanding, leaning forward slightly. "I see. And have you spoken to anyone about this? Your friends, perhaps?"

You shook your head. "No, I don’t want to burden them. They wouldn’t understand—not really."

Baizhu’s brows furrowed just enough to show concern. "You’re never a burden, Y/N. And while it’s true that some may not fully understand, I hope you’ll allow me to offer my help."

Your lips parted, but no words came out. Instead, a lump settled in your throat. The kindness in Baizhu’s tone was so steady, so unwavering, that it left you momentarily unmoored.

"I..." You swallowed hard, blinking back the sting in your eyes. "I don’t even know where to start. I feel stuck in this body that doesn’t feel like mine, and I don’t know if I’ll ever feel right. Do you think there’s something wrong with me?"

Baizhu’s expression softened further, his hand reaching across the table—not to touch, but to rest close enough that you could reach out if you wanted to.

"There’s nothing wrong with you, Y/N," he said firmly. "Your feelings are valid, and you are worthy of care and respect, just as you are. But if your body causes you discomfort, there are ways to help ease that pain."

The conversation flowed naturally after that. Baizhu, with his extensive medical knowledge, laid out options you hadn’t dared to imagine. He spoke of herbal treatments that could alleviate dysphoria, routines that could help sculpt your body over time, and—most importantly—a path toward gender-affirming treatment.

"I won’t lie to you," Baizhu said, his voice both cautious and encouraging. "The road won’t be easy, and there will be challenges. But I believe in your strength, and I’ll be with you every step of the way—if you’ll allow me."

For the first time in weeks, the weight pressing against your chest eased just a little.

"You’d really do that?" you asked, your voice quiet but hopeful.

Baizhu smiled, a rare warmth lighting his features. "Of course. You are more than just a patient to me, Y/N. You are someone I care for deeply. It would be my honor to help you find peace within yourself."

Months later, you stood in front of the same mirror that had once filled you with dread. Your reflection had changed—not drastically, but enough that the disconnect between mind and body didn’t sting quite as sharply.

"You look good," Baizhu said from behind you, his voice laced with pride.

You turned to face him, a small but genuine smile on your lips. "I feel good."

Baizhu’s eyes softened as he stepped closer, his hand brushing yours. "That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you."

[hellsbelle999]

hello :D do you have any headcanons about the gang (if u need a specific character, then ponyboy) that you would like to share with the class >:)?

ty for being my first ask 🫶 !!

these aren't the best but hope yall enjoy nonetheless :-)

WC: 778 // not proofread

Pony:

I feel like he and Johnny are really into photography. They mostly show their pictures to each other rather than the rest of the gang, but will occasionally share what they're currently working on. when out and taking photos, they try to follow a specific theme - windows, people, trees - stuff like that.

Sometimes Ponyboy will ask Soda to take his film to be processed. If Sodapop sees a picture he really likes (usually of one of the gang since they hardly sit for photos purposely lol), he'll order an extra copy and will hang it up around the house.

Soda just thinks it's cute that pone takes pictures of everybody like that (so does Darry but he doesn't act like it, just silently thankful that someone's getting pictures of all of em)

Bro's gotta be bisexual fr

He's aware that he likes both guys and girls but doesn't question it much. Kinda nonchalant about it and wouldn't think it weird unless someone else said something.

Two-Bit:

Def steals little things for his mom and kid sister (and we love him for that)

Probably just stuff like makeup or a new doll - if he sees it and thinks they'll like it then he snags it right up, employees none the wiser

Partially motivated by him thinking he doesn't do enough for them and wants to make up for it

Since he doesn't have a job they're like hrmmm… ok.. But won't question it/confront him about it directly, just in passing sarcasm or jokes (but they know he stole it ofc)

His mom would come home from work, seeing Two's sister with a new toy or maybe a fresh loaf of bread and some jam on the counter, maybe a new lipstick on her nightstand

While she appreciates the trinkets, she wishes that he would contribute to the family a little more honestly...

Soda:

I imagine that he's really clean and cares for his personal hygiene a lot. Out of all of them, he smells the best lmao. Soda feels like his appearance is all he has going for him, and tries his best to keep up that reputation.

The week pony was missing he started slacking - missing showers, stopped combing his hair, and wore the same unkempt clothing as a result of the depression. All he wanted to do was lie in bed all day, but he had to keep carrying on, just barely.

Clearly this was way beyond his normal behavior and Darry and Steve tried getting him back on his normal routine (and failed).

He didn't freshen himself up until he read about pony in the newspaper, not wanting his kid brother to see him in that sorry state when he went to the hospital.

Darry:

Actually loves cats, but won’t admit it straight up lol.

He “finds” one on the street and decides to keep her. When asked about it, he just says they're easy to take care of so why not.

He loves how quiet and warm cats are, especially when he's reading the paper at the table before work, the house chilled by the morning's air.

Sometimes he'll fall asleep petting the kitty on his chest, leaned back in the recliner after a long day of work (lol such dad energy)

He accidentally teaches her to sit on his shoulders. Darry'd be making dinner or something and this scratchy old street cat would be sat atop his shoulder like a parrot, keeping a sure eye on whatever he's cooking.

Dal:

Slightly afraid of dogs.

He's fine with ones he's familiar with, like a friend's, but if he sees a stray on the street he's likely to hightail it outta there or walk as far away from it as possible

Random:

Before the wreck, I feel like the gang would go grocery shopping with Mrs Curtis 😭😭

Just imagine these scruffy lookin greasers trailing behind this completely unassuming lady. They definitely turn some heads, but the boys help her carry bags and such so she’s not complaining.

She knows they'll all be over for dinner at least one point in the week, so she asks them for suggestions and will send em off with leftovers if there's extras.

The gang being themselves would be goofing around obviously, until either a store employee has to step in and ask them to calm down or Mrs Curtis shoots the boys a glare that immediately sets them in line. … for the most part at least.

I imagine they’d (mostly two bit or dal) would pick up the most random, vile jar off the shelf and be like “hey can we get some uhhhhh … fermented pig’s foot?” which everyone responds with varying Hell No's and ewws

I've honestly got a ton more ideas but I'll cool it and stop here 😭 plz forgive any grammatical errors etc

[kindred-spirit-93]

the challenge

aight yall i just had my best most brilliant idea perhaps ever while listening to the challenge. i have work to do and cant draw for shit but i desperately need to share my visions lol so here ya go:

instrumental

starts with pen in her quarters, setting the scene with le olive tree bed, the loom, penelope and finally the shroud. i picture pen as to be standing infront of her work, the figures almost looking down at her

as soon as i weave this shroud...

her fingertips glide her work (downwards motion) till she reaches the seams (?) where u can see the ends where she undoes her work

though i never thought... ill be here

moves to window and into balcony. curled fists hit the rail thingy with the beat thingy at "but i dont know how much longer ill last...". her eyes narrow in thought and widen with her realisation.

is it finally time... ill be here

she gives the shores her back and looks into her room again, eyes shifting from the shroud to the closed chest, calculating.

--

buying you time [suitors vocals]

it cuts to the suitors, who are chanting in the background, in the hall. setting the scene again with table(s), a view from the ceiling looking at the layout, wall decor idk lol (didnt do my research for this XD)

anyway pen walks in head held high just barely containing a scowl (killer death glare tho) and ignored bc theyre all dipshits.

--

the genius idea i had btw is when she makes her entrance she is dressed in spartan clothes, possibly even a breastplate idk im working it out, whereas for like the past decade its always been ithacan textiles colours and robes (im going to assume each kingdom had its own unique thing go away let me have this) do u see what im seeing?

oh and also she wears le make up, something she never did in the past 10 years (taking this as a mourning thing where she wouldnt wear anything extravagant like her usual crown and stuff. also to spite the suitors bc fuck them. WAR PAINT). pls imagine cool visuals

i genuinely cant over emphasise how regal but also deadly the looks shes serving are here: suns on her face, her (very) long* salt and pepper hair freely behind her (another visual detail of her letting her hair down contrasting how its been tied for a decade)

--

whoever can string my husbands old bow..

she holds the bow above her head for all to see, and raises her voice above that of the rude suitors and breaks the atmosphere (a war cry if u will hehe), giving them the instructions to the challenge. just overall badassery from my queen u feel me.

let the arrow fly... without the best of you

she now has everyones undivided attention and her voice drops again to merely above a whisper but her words ring in everyones ears. she now holds the bow between her two hands, she looks fierce, overprotective. its like she doesnt want her beloveds bow to be tainted by their unworthy filthy hands, yet another sacrifice she makes. she ends with a snarl

though i never thought.. i would not have it any other way

(internal singing here) nose in the air she leaves the room after the first hour she spent tight lipped watching them fail miserably. its cathartic to her lol shes barely holding back her smile if it werent for her unbridled fury. anywho

--

and though i never thought.. just know ill be here

cuts to pen back in her room reflecting afterwards, the sun has now set and her hands are on the rail again, (parallels to the first but lol) this time theyre clasped together. bc wedding ring and aging hands and scars from weaving. god i wish i could draw hands :')

waiting, waiting, waiting...

she once again gives her back to the ithacas shores and her gaze rests on another tapestry, stepping closer with each iteration of waiting.

...oh

ends with her softly reaching out but not quite touching said tapestry (closes her hands just before, in tortured restraint. bc pain): one she weaved as odysseus built their bed. ✨homophrosyne✨ >:')

(i imagine it to be them when they were younger idk it was her courting gift, so probably olive tree with them (in embrace) under it)

are u crying yet?

[hakufuku]

A part of her realized she was leaning closer over him, that her forehead pressed against his. Sansa looked into the violet of his exposed eye, unflinching despite the shadows of darkness lurking beneath its depths. Aemond, in turn, looked back into the impossible blue of her gaze, and their blessed light. Like heaven and earth meeting to kiss upon the skyline, their colors mingled; like one another’s mirror, until they became their own reflections of refracted light and encroaching shadow. “After all, we’re the same, you and I.”

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

hiya! i was making an edit.... which lead to making a caption... which lead to writing a oneshot, lol

concept is: a bunch of show & book canon smashed together, a reunion scene set in winterfell after years of seperation due to forces outside their control, and also perhaps childhood friends?? dont think too deeply about the how and when, just roll with it idk

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

The muffled din of unceasing rainfall mingled with the soft crackle of dying embers in the hearth. She threw a couple logs atop the charred remains of fire, a small plume of ash protesting the abrupt roughness of it, before the flames were gradually revived.

Aemond sat slumped in a chair beside the table they’d once used for taking tea, pouring over histories, or studying new battle strategies. A film of dust had settled atop its smooth, oaken surface — the mark of a few years worth of disuse; the mark of several more arduous months, blatantly ignoring the few years of disuse, refusing to cling to memories that now seemed an unreachable dream. As if in silent protest, Sansa scrubbed the soaking fabric of her cloak-sleeve across its surface. Dust motes swirled in the warming air (it was the first time she wondered if she had a particular knack for disrupting the natural order of things, or perhaps she just rejected the world as it was instead of what it ought to be), and she left behind a streaked mess. She supposed it needed proper care to restore it back to some semblance of its former use, but it was a start.

A cold, tentative hand came to rest over her own, and Sansa blinked away her blurred vision. Odd, she thought, that the rain could reach indoors like this. She glanced at Aemond from beneath her lashes, an apologetic smile ghosting her lips as she realized he’d been watching her most closely. As if after pushing her away all this time, he’d realized he couldn’t let her out of his narrow line of sight. 

Not again. Never again.

Though there was something in the way his gaze, pronounced by a thin rheumy film and deep purple bruises just below, fixed upon her alone, that made her stomach flutter with something she couldn’t quite name. It seemed an unpleasant thought, to choke on butterfly’s wings, and a bitterly nostalgic feeling took hold of her then. She swallowed thickly before rounding the table to help unfasten Aemond’s cloak, if only to escape his unwavering eye.

They were silent as she deftly unclasped his traveling cloak, dripping heavy from the deluge. Though she’d aimed for his blind side, Aemond turned his head to watch Sansa most closely. Her eyes flickered up for only a breath, finding muted surprise and something not ungentle reflected back at her before she looked back to her hands.

“This is something I used to do for my father.” she finally spoke, the gentle lilt of her voice cutting the quiet. Drenched in rainwater, his furs were heavier than she imagined. She remained silent about their weight, reasoning that the dead he carried on his back, that gripped and clawed at his throat like a vise, like an albatross, were far heavier than piles of fabric and the rain to wash him clean. Sansa draped his cloak upon an empty chair in front of the hearth to dry, before returning to Aemond’s side to unfasten a pauldron from his shoulder.

“He and I understood each other without having to say too much.” the silence threatening to swallow her voice was punctuated with each dull thud of his leather armor pieces as she placed them on the floor. “Part of me knew it hurt him, that I wasn’t so open about my true feelings. But he knew I helped to care for him because I loved him.”

He remained deathly still despite the momentary twitching of his hands, his breath shallow as his gaze remained fixed upon a pile of worn books atop her writing desk. Focused; looking, but unseeing. Like cornered prey planning an escape, like a predator thrilled by the chase; she couldn’t discern which role was his, she couldn’t discern which role was hers.

Somehow, the thought compelled her to keep talking, “ — So please, let me do this for you, My Prince.”

His hand found hers again, catching her deft fingers just as she’d moved in front of him and finished removing his chest plate. Lightly, as if she were something fragile (with his touch alone, she was) he pressed her palm flat against his chest, over his own heart. The erratic rhythm was foreign to her, and her cheeks lit aflame as if she were intruding on something private, intimate; something altogether not meant for her.

“It’s rare to hear you talk at length like this nowadays, My Lady.” he said, his gaze piercing, despite his voice hoarse and colored with a tremor (of yearning? excitement? fear?), “We're both aware I tend to be stubborn... and at times single-minded, especially when it counts.” in spite of his assessment, the corners of his lips quirked up, not quite a smile, “But I won’t catch your meaning if you don’t speak it plainly.”

Moments passed, their breaths caught in their throats, fire crackled in the hearth, Aemond’s heartbeat thundered in her ears, butterflies threatened to choke her, and despite still drenched from the unceasing downpour, the room became almost impossibly too warm to bear. Sansa swallowed again, her mouth dry. Her lips moved, but it was another few seconds before the words took form.

“You... most certainly will, My Prince.” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. Her fingers clenched against his chest, twisting in the fabric of his tunic, and she was emboldened by the way his hand pressed securely over her own, as if to encourage her. Her free hand came up to his cheek, fingertips brushing against his jawline, as if to return the way he’d held her in place with just a touch. Her thumb grazed the scar on his cheek, tender against his angry flesh.

A part of her realized she was leaning closer over him, that her forehead pressed against his. Sansa looked into the violet of his exposed eye, unflinching despite the shadows of darkness lurking beneath its depths. Aemond, in turn, looked back into the impossible blue of her gaze, and their blessed light. Like heaven and earth meeting to kiss upon the skyline, their colors mingled; like one another’s mirror, until they became their own reflections of refracted light and encroaching shadow.

“After all, we’re the same, you and I.”

[leonstoenailunderhisbed]

Insurgency: The Uprising

Summary: A totalitarian regime reigns over a South American country in which the virus is being distributed to its citizens at the pretense of a “cure.” Leon was sent to retrieve a sample of the virus mutation when he stumbled upon a group of anti-government activists whose main goal is to overthrow their government. Will Leon help the cause or will he fall down with the government as well?

Warning: Mentions of mature themes. Read at your own discretion. Slow burn. Age gap (Leon is 38 and reader is 21+). Reader is female.

Word count: 4,750

A/N: this is an idea I had for a book I wanted to write. I love dystopian books and movies so I really wanted to write something like this. This will be a series lol.

[part one][part two][part three][part four][part five][part six][part seven][part eight][bonus]

“The relief of giving in to destruction.” - Franz Kafka, Diaries.

“This is an urgent message from the president. This is an urgent message from the president. This is an ur-“

“Hello citizens of Pruye,” the TV warning got interrupted by the screening of a middle aged woman sitting down on a desk. Her suit was black as a flag stood behind her. The colors blue and green with a crest on the far left corner- a serpent. The woman had a brown bob with a few grey hairs. Her eyes were deep brown as her lips remained a bright pink. Her rosy cheeks puffed out the look of exhaustion as she embodied the feeling of a confident and strong leader,

“Today is an important day that all must remember. Tonight, we will launch the cure of all illnesses. The immunity to life. We shall bring peace and harmony all throughout the globe. A change never seen in history… until now.”

“Membario will become the new pharmaceutical phenomena. Our people worked hard for this cure and we shall be the first ones to prove to the world that we, too, can make history. Tonight, you all will be receiving a sample of this cure. Tonight, we will boast in the celebrations of what it feels to be victors! We are proud Pruyanians!”

The TV got turned off by someone, your coworker, “What a bunch of mierda,” Your coworker was an old man, a veteran who served in the war and now worked at where you worked. A canteen right in the middle of downtown Pruye. The streets were made of cement but had plot holes from previous battles.

The Pruyanian government, right before the current president won the election, was peaceful and harmonious in which it allowed citizens to have a voice. After President Mendez took charge, she changed everything.

Streets were patrolled by the Pruyanian soldiers who proved their loyalty to the country. Laws were changed and made to accommodate the president’s demands.

“I just don’t understand why it’s such a big deal, it’s just a drug like opium or morphine,” he continued with a grumpy voice.

“C’mon, Franco. Don’t be a buzzkill. Imagine how rich we can be if we were to sell it to other countries?” Another coworker said, a young woman in her early twenties with dyed hair. Red fiery hair covering what was a previous black raven shade.

Franco snorted as he stared at the TV and then back at the young woman, “Don’t tell me you actually believe her words? She’s manipulating us!”

You sighed and went to clean up a few tables, “You two fight like politicians.”

“Look- I’m just saying is that there are better ways to make a living. I don’t want to work here for the rest of my life,” the young woman replied as she too helped you clean around the canteen.

“Too bad, Esme,” Franco replied as he opened a newspaper and began to read, “Life’s a bitch and you can’t do anything about it.”

Esme raised her brow and looked at you for a brief moment, “He gets old but not his spirit, eh?” She nudged you with her elbow gently.

You stifled a chuckle and shook your head as you went back to the kitchen to clean the used dishes.

It’s always been you three working here. Esme, Franco and you were like family. After President Mendez delivered the order to kill all those who opposed her, your family became a target.

Your brother, around 16 years old, died right before a ceasefire was called. He was with his friends when a group of Pruyanian soldiers appeared and shot him. The cause for the shooting? He defied a soldier and showed insubordination.

Since then you’ve grown resentment to the government- specifically President Mendez.

The ground shook as you were cleaning the dishes. You slowly approached the open door entry along with Franco and Esme, watching as battle tanks drove through the city.

“Coño… what are they doing over here?” Esme asked faintly as she watched the tanks and army pass by. Their uniform blue with the serpent crest embedded on their arm. The red serpent you’ve seen all throughout the city.

“Must be presidential orders,” Franco pointed to a big screen on a tall tower. The tower stood right in the center of the city layout. Its purpose was to guide those who are lost- or maybe it was to show who the powerful ones really were.

You and Esme turned your attention to the big screen, watching as a countdown took place. They were about to distribute the cure to the citizens in 6 hours.

Esme huffed in annoyance and went back to stare at the soldiers pass by. Their boots echoing through the humid streets of Pruye as they held their weapons with a firm grip.

“They’re securing the area…” you whispered as you furrowed your brows. You turned back to look at the screen and listen to what the president had to say, “We will be patrolling the following areas- Pucalara, Miguén, San Jolonia, and San Bandero. Do not be alarmed, this is standard protocol.”

Currently, you were in San Bandero. The heart of Pruye. The soldiers all surrounded the city and held their rifles close to themselves. You watched as the tanks all moved inward, closer to the tower.

“They’re locking us in…” you spoke faintly as you quickly walked back inside the canteen. Esme and Franco exchanged a look as they followed behind you, seemingly confused.

“This isn’t protection like she claims- no. She’s locking us inside the city-“ you frantically said as you got your bag and jacket.

“Y/n, slow down. How do you even know that?” Franco put a hand on your shoulder to calm you down.

You shook your head as you swung your jacket around your shoulders, “I don’t. But knowing her… she’s hiding something and I don’t want to be here for that.”

You walked out of the canteen and walked down the sidewalk towards where the soldiers were blocking an exit. As you neared them, a soldier held out his rifle and aimed at you as he spoke through his helmet, “Turn back around. You cannot leave the area.”

You raised your hands in the air and took a step forward, resulting in the other soldiers pointing their guns at you, “I said- turn back around! Now!”

With a glare you slowly took steps back as you walked away from them. They weren’t letting people out which meant that they were also not letting people in.

As you walked back to the canteen, you noticed how people began to get out of their houses and grow confused at the soldiers. Why were they blocking the exits and entries of the city?

Right as you were about to walk inside the canteen, shots were fired. You crouched down to the floor and covered your head with your arms as you looked over your shoulder and saw soldiers shooting the civilians with weapons launching at them.

Your eyes widened at the sight of the people with machetes and guns fight each other. The sound of bodies falling down to the floor as well as the blood seeping through their lifeless bodies, staining the cement under them.

Rain began to pour down, making it hard for the soldiers to see through their helmets. You watched as a person stabbed a soldier from behind with their knife but then fall to the ground dead as the soldier behind them shot them in the head.

This was war.

-

Leon was called to the main office of the organization he was currently working at. Which was for the government. He found himself inside the White House again for some reason.

As he waited inside a room, he couldn’t help but notice how bright and sunny the weather had been lately. Which was a contrast to what he felt. Drained and exhausted.

The door opened gently and two men dressed in expensive suits stepped inside with a file in their hands. They approached where Leon had been sitting and sat on the couch across from him.

“Good news, your request for a getaway vacation has been approved,” one of the men, balding and tired, said as he laid the file on the coffee table between them. Leon leaned forward to pick it up and go through it.

“And the bad news?” Leon asked without glancing at them.

The other cleared his throat before speaking, “You’re being sent to another virus mission.”

Leon looked up from the file to stare at the two men. Another mission about the virus, when will it ever end?

He sighed as he closed the file and leaned back against the couch, “So another zombie apocalypse. Great, just what I fucking needed…” he whispered as he put the file back on the coffee table, “No.”

“No? What do you mean no? This is important, people’s lives are at risk and we can’t-“ Leon quickly interrupted the balding man.

“You can’t save everyone when it comes to this. I’ve seen it many times, why don’t you all just do what you did back in Raccoon City, huh? Bomb them until there’s no trace of the virus,” Leon got up and began to walk towards the door.

“This is different,” the other man said, causing Leon to stop in his tracks. “This isn’t like the virus you’ve seen before… this is much more dangerous.”

Leon turned around to look at the two of them before walking back to sit on the couch. “Go on.”

“Ahem-“ the man continued, “South America. The branch wants you to go over there and retrieve a sample of the virus. That’s all you have to do. Once you give us the sample, we’ll proceed from there and you’ll get your vacation.”

Leon narrowed his eyes at him, growing suspicious of how easy the mission sounds, “You aren’t telling me everything, are you?”

The balding man laughed nervously and readjusted his black tie, “Not per se-“

“There’s a revolution going on in the country of Pruye where you’re being sent to. They mutated the virus’s genetic code into something more dangerous and they’re using it as medicine- I believe you know where this is going,” the other man said.

Leon nodded and kept quiet as the man talked, “The government is planning on distributing this ‘medicine’ to other countries but we cannot let them. Your mission is not only to retrieve a sample but to also stop the spread and destroy the evidence of the virus ever existing. You will be given a team- both air and land to help you complete your mission. Your task is not let others know the real reason why you’re there. You are acting as a soldier proving aid to the government. Once you have retrieved the virus sample, we will pull you out of the country and bring you back.”

“This time I’m actually getting help. Nice,” Leon replied sarcastically. It was obvious that Leon wasn’t all too excited about this. He’s been used as a killing machine ever since Raccoon City. He’s been tossed around the globe with expectations of solving everyone’s issues. And he’s tired. He’s 38, he should be worrying about other things other than war and death.

His hands rested on his thighs as he began to stand up from the couch, “When do I leave?”

“First thing in the morning, you’ll be on a private plane provided by the government,” the balding man answered.

Leon nodded before finally walking towards the door and exiting the room. As he walked down the halls of the White House, he wondered what life would be like for him. Is this all he’s ever going to do? Was his life purpose about fighting and killing? He couldn’t wait to retire.

-

Smoke covered the entire block. Rain poured down harshly against your skin, causing your hair to stick to you like glue. The smell was of gunpowder and metallic blood infiltrated your nose. A vision full of haze as you stood up from being crouched down on the floor.

Blood.

A lot of blood.

They brought tanks and a helicopter. “¡Al suelo!” Someone yelled.

You got down on the floor as an incoming tank shot a building, causing it to crumble down just a few feet away from the canteen. Your eyes widened in horror at the sight.

People screamed- from pain and from the fight. You got up and ran to try and find Franco and Esme. You needed to get them out of here now.

You staggered as you ran towards the canteen. The debris that had fallen over from the building covering the road. You jumped and ducked as soldiers hid behind them and shot at anyone who they deemed a threat.

Panting through the bloodied streets, you had reached the canteen. You heard groaning and some yelling more up ahead.

You didn’t know what took over you but you found yourself running towards that sound. As you approached the yelling, you saw that Esme had been hit by a piece of debris from the collapsed building. Her leg had been squished and she desperately tried to pry the piece off of her. You kneeled down beside her and pushed the debris aside, watching in horror what had happened to her leg.

Her bone broke and penetrated her skin. Snapped in half like a twig. There was blood pooling down her leg. You froze, you didn’t know what to do. You weren’t a medic but you also weren’t heartless enough to leave her.

You took off your jacket and applied it to her wound, hoping you could at least stop the bleeding. She gripped your arm as she let out a bloody scream in pain.

“Estoy aquí- respira. Todo va estar bien-“ you tried to calm her down but she let out another yell, “y/n it hurts- grragh”

Of course it hurt, her bone was poking out of her skin.

“Where’s Franco?” You asked as you tried to get her distracted from the pain.

She didn’t respond and instead pointed to a mountain of rubble. Metal rods and pieces of cement fell down on top of people. You could see limb pieces- arm, legs. But you couldn’t recognize all of them.

Your eyes followed her finger as she pointed to the gore display.

“He’s under there…” she replied weakly and let out another pained scream.

You felt your breath catch in your throat as your heart rate quickened. Slowly standing up, you walked over to the mountain of rubble. “Franco?” You called out in a panicked tone.

Silence.

You hurriedly kneeled in front of the mountain and hastily moved the rubble away. Taking piece by piece as you denied the thoughts scurrying through your head.

Almost immediately, your heart dropped down to your stomach as you recognize the veteran necklace. With shaky hands, you reached for the necklace and took it.

Franco was dead.

Your vision blurred as you held the necklace on your chest. You let out a blood curdling scream as you trembled in horror.

The ground shook as more bombs blew off. Troops stampeded through the streets, their weapons aimed at the citizens of San Bandero.

You went back to Esme and tried to pick her up, “Come on,” you grunted as she leaned her weight on you.

Dragging her alongside you, you managed to walk further away from the city and towards the exit. The soldiers bordering the entry/exit road had been killed and now laid there lifeless. Their uniforms stained with the red tint of what could be assumed was their blood. Maybe it was also someone else’s.

As you managed to get her out of the city, you walked through the dense forest and laid her down on the ground as she leaned against a tree.

“I’m going to get help- stay here and don’t make a single sound-“

“Leave me,” Esme interrupted you. Her gaze defeated and weak as she looked up at you. “I’m only going to slow you down. You need to get out here…”

Your eyes softened at her, “I can’t leave you, Esme. You’re coming with me-“

“For fuck’s sake y/n! Just go!” She cut you off again. She sighed and closed her eyes. “Just go…”

You stared at her in silence, your feet frozen in place.

“Esme…”

“Just go. I’m not going to live, you saw what they were doing to us… please, Y/n… just go…” she rolled her head back against the tree and grunted softly in pain.

You stared at her in silence as you contemplated your next actions.

“Y/n, go to La Séten mountain…” she heaved as she tried to breathe, “There’s- there’s a group of people who can help you, give them this.”

She weakly handed you a piece of paper with writing on it. You took it and put it in your pocket as you nodded shortly.

“I will…” you whispered as you looked into her amber eyes, “I’m sorry, Esme…”

Esme gave you a weak and faint smile, “Don’t be sorry… promise you’ll live… for me…”

You nodded and held her hand as your eyes welled up in tears, “I will.”

You leaned closer to her and gave her forehead a gentle kiss. She closed her eyes and exhaled for the last time in her life.

You stifled a sob as you let go of her hand. You’ve lost Franco and now Esme too.

You walked through the forest, making your way to the mountain Esme mentioned.

-

“Madam President, the city states have been seized and are under troop surveillance.”

“Wonderful, let the Chief in Command proceed with the plan. We mustn’t delay the delivery.”

“Yes, Madam President,” the female assistant walked out of the President’s office, the same one when the announcement was first made. President Mendez let out a soft hum and stared down at the files in her hands.

“Tonight, we will change lives Doctor Ramirez,” she spoke as Doctor Ramirez walked closer to her desk.

“Yes, we will Madam President and it’s all thanks to your help. Without your sponsorship, we couldn’t have progressed so quickly with our research,” Doctor Ramirez was a tall and lanky man with glasses. His hair was neatly parted at the side and his white coat shielded the suit he was wearing underneath. He exuded wealth and power, much like the President herself.

President Mendez laughed and clapped her hands slowly, “Oh.. Doctor Ramirez, you are too humble.”

“Not all Madam President… not at all,” he replied with a quiet tone. His eyes unreadable.

-

The path to La Sénte Mountain was a rough one. It’s one of the biggest mountains in San Bandero that has been classified as unreachable. There was an abandoned trail that originally was used for horse riding but ever since the country got ruled over by President Mendez, everything turned industrial.

Trees aligned the rail as the tall grass reached up your shins. It had gotten dark by the time the bombs and the shootings all faded in the background. As you took a step up, you turned back to look at the city that was once your home become occupied by soldiers. The helicopter flashed its light in search for citizens. There was smoke and fire coming out of the city from where you stood.

You couldn’t believe this was happening. With a sigh, you continued your trail up the mountain. Unknown to you that you were being watched by eyes hidden in the grass, trees, and bushes.

Hours passed and it was now some time past midnight. You took a break to catch your breath. Sitting down on a rock, you took out the piece of paper Esme gave you.

It was a small map with the word ‘Insurgents’ on it. The map was a layout of Pruye, it contained information about where each government and army building was located around the coast as well as the center of the country.

You tucked it back into your pocket not before hearing a twig snap. Anxiety quickly coursed through your veins and you got up to leave. Whatever was out there was probably not friendly given the current uprising in the country.

With a force against your feet, you kept climbing up the mountain. Climbing for what felt hours until you saw an orange light emitting from a cave.

Fire. Someone had lit up a camp inside a cave in the mountain.

You gripped the edge of the cave and pulled your body up. As you entered, you were immediately met with guns pointed at you. There were about four men pointing their rifles at you as you climbed up. A woman came up to you and dragged you up by your arm, helping you stand on your feet.

There was a table right in the center of the cave with a lantern. And behind that table stood a woman with a scar across her face. Her eye a different color as the scar ran right through it.

“Hold your weapons,” she raised her hand to stop the men from shooting you. The men took two steps back and slowly lowered their weapons. The woman who helped you up left your side and walked back to where the other woman was standing.

“I assume you were told about us,” she began as she went around the table and walked to stand in front of you. She was taller than you by at least two inches. Her hair was short and black. Her skin tanned and full of freckles.

You nodded and took out the note Esme gave you, “A friend of mine told me to come here.”

The woman took the note and inspected it before giving it to the woman who helped you up.

“Another recruit, Esme was really good at recruiting more people,” she said casually. Your eyes widened, she knew Esme?

“I don’t suppose you know what we do or who we are?” She walked back to the table and motioned for you to follow behind her.

As you neared the table, there were papers scattered around messily. Maps and files with important information. The woman turned to you and took out her hand for a handshake, “Name’s Yanira. Welcome to Insurgents.”

You took her hand and shook it with a firm grip, “Insurgents? What are you guys?”

She let go of your hand and focused back down on the table, “We are an organization looking to overthrow President Mendez from her position. She and her minions have been controlling our land far too long. It’s time we claim back what’s ours.”

An anti-government group. And they’re fighting the Pruyanian government for freedom. You furrowed your brows and stared down at the table as well as Yarina kept speaking, “We need as many people as possible if we want to make this happen. You’ve seen how they treat people back in the city states. Why don’t you join us?”

You looked at her with wide eyes, “What? Why would you want me to join? I don’t even know how to shoot a gun.”

Yarina chuckled softly, “You’ll learn. We’ve got plenty of people who can teach you different things,” she leaned closer to you, “We’ve been preparing for this moment. All we need is more help. And you- I have a feeling you can help us big time,” she whispered and then leaned away.

She focused back on the table and continued discussing whatever it was that she was talking to the other people.

Join them? You can help them? Up until now you were just a girl working in a canteen living paycheck to paycheck. And now everything turned upside down. The army has taken control of four city states and you’ve lost more people.

It was no lie that a war was coming but to actually partake in it was terrifying, at least to you. But witnessing how everyone seemed to have the spirit and the faith that everything will work out in their favor is beginning to persuade you.

What more do you have to lose? You’ve lost your family and now your friends. It’s time to fight back for what was once yours.

“Okay,” you nodded slowly and looked at Yarina.

“I’ll join you.”

Yarina smiled brightly and hung an arm around your shoulders, celebrating with the other insurgents.

It all felt so overwhelming yet so real. This was happening and there was no turning back.

“Okay, here’s everything you need to know so far,” Yarina pointed to the map.

“The coast has been guarded up by the navy army of Pruye. President Mendez sent out an order to not let anyone in or out of the country. The ports have been closed and the soldiers are patrolling the beach.”

She then pointed to the center of Pruye, right on San Bandero, “San Bandero has become the military center of the country and is where most of the soldiers have been patrolling. This is where their control comes from. If we can target and destroy their center from this point then we have a chance at liberating the other city states.”

You furrowed your brows, “It’s not easy. I’ve seen what they brought. Tanks and helicopters. Are you sure you want to target them first? What about the civilians?”

Yarina let out a soft exhale, “We can perform an underground evacuation- some of our soldiers will go in the sewers and take people out of the city towards the forest. Once the people have been evacuated, we will proceed and attack the main tower.” She then pointed to a tall building colored in red right in the middle of the map.

“This is where most of the military controls the country. If we can hijack and steal their data, then we can convince the rest of the country to join us. And we can also delay the soldiers from terrorizing other city states.”

She already had a plan for everything. No wonder Esme knew about this. If this group was this good then that means that there’s hope for liberation.

“Okay…” you began slowly, “What do you need me to do?”

“You, my friend, have a special mission,” she slid a piece of paper your way.

“The United States will send some troops over here to aid President Mendez. I want you to go back to San Bandero with a few of my people and infiltrate their meeting location,” her finger pointed to another building on the map, “This place is called La Fundación de Membario. It is heavily guarded by soldiers. The place is where President Mendez is currently staying at. She’s going to personally welcome the Americans and give them a run down of what Pruye has been up to. She’ll most likely tell them about us and knowing her-“ her tongue clicked against the roof of her mouth as she stared at you.

“She’ll want the Americans to target us.”

You pinched your brows together and looked back down at the files of the American soldiers that were expected to come, “But why is the U.S. sending their military over here?”

“Because President Mendez sent an emergency alert to their President. She declared her country was threatened by us and needed backup. So, the U.S. playing God in all wars- decided to send their people over here to control us.”

You looked up at her from the files as she spoke again, “But you know what I think? I think they don’t stand a chance against us. We know the country better than anyone. They’ll die right before they can touch land,” she replied quietly.

She sounded like she wasn’t lying. It was a promise to herself and to the people of Pruye.

“When do I start?” You asked after putting the files back down on the table.

“Tomorrow morning. You can stay at our camp and we’ll teach you the basics. For now, you should rest. We’ve a long day tomorrow,” she patted your shoulder and walked deeper into the cave. The other insurgents gave you a look and some gave you a firm nod as they followed their leader.

You exhaled shakily as you looked out the cave. From now on, you were a soldier. No longer the girl working in a canteen. That life was long gone.

You were now part of the Revolution.

[mostlyghostlyy]

What do you think Dale’s favorite food is?

I dont think he has a favorite. Or if he does, i am not the right person to ask lol.

I do think he enjoys anything you cook for him. He probably loves the idea of domesticity. The thought that you love him enough to prepare him meals would take this man out. He doesn't seem like he eats a lot, or at least not good meals. I wonder what he was eating in Ruth Harker’s house. Just stealing stuff from her fridge?

Imagine he’s downstairs in the basement, and he catches the scent of homemade dinner, and whats that? You’re calling his name? You told him you were making dinner, but he assumed you were making it only for yourself.

He’d quietly skulk up the stairs, eyeing you from the doorway of the kitchen. You’re dishing food onto two plates now. He allows himself another whiff, coming up behind you and resting his chin on your shoulder. He asks if you called for him, and you tell him you had. “Dinner’s ready, baby. Lets eat.”

God he cant remember the last time he had a home cooked meal. Something piping hot and prepared with love. The first bite hits his mouth and he yowls in delight, praising you on how good it tastes. You seem pleased at his reaction. “I'm glad you like it, Doll.” You smile warmly at him, hands supporting your head, elbows on the table. Now his cheeks are heating up. Pinkish hue contrasting his pale skin.

[lesvii]

Wanted

Steph was in her apartment, this events takes when el sin nombre escapes from her prison jail, but in other circumstances as she looks for somewhere to lay low for a bit.

Original character cause i hate to put Y/N lol.

Also this is a F!reader for now i just feel comfortable writing wlw shit so..

————————————————————————

The door clicks as you open it, Steph was getting out of her third shift from the bar, serving alcohol to drunk and nasty men wasn't an easy job, but hey she got the money. She was so tired from this day, she irradiated a smell of faint tequila from her body, i think some men dropped some on her. Steph just didn't care anymore, getting a shower and getting ready for bed seemed more important than everything by now. As Steph closed the door with her feet, she went and looked for the TV remote in the couches as she found it she turned the TV on, as she didnt care what channel it landed on, she went to get herself a cup of hot water and some herbal tea Steph loved to drink when you felt extra tired. As the noises of the TV mumbles on your head she didn't pay attention to it, her eyelids forced to stay open as she poured the hot water into a cup from her kitchen, she stretched her body to reached the tall drawer up on the wall of her white kitchen to grab the bag of tea, as she pour it into the warm cup. As she grabs the cup to take a small sip, something on the tv catches her attention.

´´Citizens we have an important announcement to make, as you know the biggest drug lord in Las Almas has been captured but in the last 24 hours we been informed that she's now a fugitive, please take precautions, sleep with doors locked, dont go outside alone at this late in the night. As for the military we haven't received any news from them confirming this event.´´

Steph could see a imagine of the said woman appearing on the news, short black hair, brown eyes, intimidate look, she kinda look a little muscular as she find herself staring at El Sin Nombre picture with a smile, she… kinda looked like Steph type honestly, if it weren't for the fact she runs the biggest cartel drug she would for sure into her. Steph looks at the tv unamused brushing it off, probably just the channel wanting to make more views, lately the news has been field with a lot of junk, she grabbed the remote as a call incomes in Steph´s phone.

As Steph looks above her shoulder sitting in the couch she overlooks her phone ringing in the kitchen table behind her, she sighed as she gets up sipping her hot tea leaving it behind a small table besides the couches, she walks to the table as she reads whos calling, as she reads the name she knows its her best friend, what was she doing calling her up this late at night it was past midnight now.

Call Incoming Melanie

´´STEPH– did you saw the news!?¨ Melanie was practically screaming through the phone.

As Steph found her friend's voice irritating she turned the volume a little bit down.

``uh— yeah i guess i just did, what about it?´´She said as she passed through the space of the table to the couch, grabbing her tea as she walked through the kitching resting her body on the kitchen counter.

´´The shit everyone is talking about?!´´ Melanie replies.

´´uhh… elaborate please? I just got off a 12 hour shift. I feel like I can't think straight anymore..``Steph said rubbing her eyes, as she heard a faint giggle from her friend

´´Well i've never seen you think *straight*´´ Melanie said jokingly, as Steph is literally a lesbian.

´´ Haha, you're so funny…No but seriously what about it?´´Steph said as she started to get more curious.

´´The drug lord women???´´ Melanie said practically whispering at the phone, there was a few seconds of silence before Steph spoke again.

´´Oh yeah I heard something about she escaped and shit, but dont worry not even the military base has confirmed anything i'm sure is just fake bullshit´´Steph said as she took a sip of her tea.

It was getting cold by now, all the apartment lights were off and the only source of light was the TV in front of her and the moon shining from a window near the kitchen. There was a faint chuckle on the phone line.

´´ But you know she's kinda hot…´´Steph said giggling on the phone.

´´Oh my god Steph don't even start on this, get your lesbian ass off this WANTED woman and get someone, i was starting to think the guy that came to your apartment the other day was your affair´´.

´´Oh god no– the plumbing guy haha– no of course not… i'm only for women and women only´´. Steph said while she winked on the phone.

´´Hmmm… But you know she's kinda hot i guess´´Melanie said as Steph took a few breaths in and they both burst out laughing, she kinda needed this, Melanie always finds a way to cheer up Steph even in those bad bad days.

´´ I'm telling you… if she came out knocking at my door, the door won't be the only thing open for her´´Steph said chuckling as she whispered the last words. Her and Melanie stayed on line for a few minutes more until the clock hitted at 2:30 A.M. They said their respect goodbyes.

´´Its too late now girl, i should get going… good night dont let the sicaria fuck you in your sleep or you wont remeber it´´´

´´Haha.. So funny Mel, good night talk to you later´´.

Steph was the first one to hang up, with a faint sighed she put the cold cup of tea on the washer as she thought of washing some leftover plates from yesterday, but quickly washed it off as the tiredness started to hit her up with her yawning. She scratched her tired eyes with her hands as she kept yawning and strolls out of the kitchen ready to walk through the leaving room and go upstairs, but she quickly remembers she left her phone back in the kitchen.

´´Ughh…´´ She groaned as she took a turn to enter the kitchen again, and found her phone on the kitchen counter, she quickly grabbed it. She was on her back facing the entrance of the kitchen. Suddenly a harsh move of an unknown body is present behind her, a strong hand covering her mouth to keep her silent. Steph quickly began to panic. Who are they, she thought? She was facing the front view of the kitchen and the person was behind her, she could feel a strong arm wrapped against her face as they kept her silence, and… a chest? Of a woman?.

´´Don't scream, chula´´. A faint whisper came from this woman getting close to Steph's ear as she spoke.

Oh fuck.

[geometricalien]

Hello! I couldn't remember if you shipped them or not, but for the OTP/Self Ship ask could you do #s 8, 22, 23, 30, 37, 38, 47, and 58 for AkaFuri?

I do ship them! Sorry for the delay as well, it did take a hot minute to think everything through.

8. What happens if one of them gets sick?

Here's the thing, I think Akashi rarely gets sick. If he gets a symptom or two he is quick to start taking the necessary precautions and medications, he is way too busy to get sick. But the second it does actually impede him, it crashes on him all at once. It's the whole “after a stressful period, you may be prone to succumbing to illness.” When he accepts there is nothing to do but ride it out, he becomes an absolute pathetic baby refusing to rise from bed. Furihata can’t help but laugh at the sight of Akashi being so pitiful whining that he stays by his side and cuddle but it's also really fucking cute. He has a secret file of sick Akashi pictures on his phone, just him sleeping with a red nose or wrapped in a burrito of blankets with this small pout at the camera.

When Furihata is sick, you know Akashi is not going into the office. He’ll be doing work at home and doting on him like no one's business. I think Furihata would tell him he’ll be fine alone, go to work, and fall asleep only to awaken and go in the living room to find Akashi at the dinner table with his laptop and paperwork while Akashi has Furihata’s favorite soup simmering on the stove. “I told you to go in.” “I did. I went in and told Matsu-kun to move my meetings and then I grabbed some of those ginger ale’s that settle your stomach when you are sick.” After that, Furihata moves to rest in the living room with the television on at a low volume and drifting off to the soft taps of Akashi’s laptop, secretly pleased.

22. What reminds each of their partner?

I think violins, piano, scissors (lol), classic tea serving ceremonies, roses, crisp lines, shogi, a devastating ankle break, prideful cats that turn to butter when you scratch behind their ear, tweed and turtleneck sweaters, the smell of coffee, thunderstorms, 9:00 pm - the time in Tokyo they would call each other when living across the world: are just a few things that remind Furihata of Akashi. While books, cheap dime a dozen blue ballpoint pens, cluttered and messy sticky notes, physical CDs, old bookstores that are more like haphazard collection of books weighing down a maze of shelves than anything commercial and ordered, daisies, saving the best bite for last when eating, dogs with big round eyes, the fresh scent of earth after rain, 7:00 am - the time in New York they would call each other when living in different countries: remind Akashi of Furihata.

23. Who’s more likely to convince the other to stay in bed come morning?

Akashi. Akashi is a cuddlebug of the highest degree. Come the weekend and without any obligations, Akashi likes to stay tangled together. Take that as innocently or sexually as you like, because they are both true lol

30. Your OTP gets to pick out each other’s outfits; what is each wearing?

This is actually so hard agdhshsj because do I go with some everyday wear? Cute date outfit? Fancy gala clothes? And then how do I show that? So. Instead. I'm going to do what I do in spare time anyways and go to one of those tik tok outfit generators and imagine wlw akafuri ❤️☺️ In my mind, Akashi dresses fem- think long red silky hair, bows and lace, fully owning her body. While Furihata dresses queer- chunky wolfcut, bold patterned collared short sleeved button down shirts, lowkey baggy chill streetwear clothing.

Okay so here is Akashi’s outfit for Furihata: I think Akashi uses this opportunity to play dress up? So she puts Furihata in clothes she wouldn’t normally wear but would look fucking great on her. I’m not sold on these exact pairs of shorts but something black and casual is in line for my vision. Also I almost had a heart attack imagining Furihata in this and so did Akashi ahdhsjsks

Here is Furihata’s outfit for Akashi: It is very professional and put together with the nice balancing of brown, pink, and light blue. I also think she would get Akashi this cutesy cherry sweater and Akashi would wear it.all.the.time.

37. Which is more likely to swear?

Furihata fldjsakfj It’s not gratuitous but every now and then he uses it as an exclamation. I can not see Akashi swearing at all, if he is going to insult you he isn’t going to call you a motherfucker or an asshole, he will call you a worthless illiterate scum. Bro is pulling out the 2 cent words to read someone to filth.

38. Who is more sexually experimental? Who’s more vanilla?

Keep in mind, i'm the bitch that wrote akafuri/midotaka foursome. Between them, I think Furihata would have more sexual experience but it would still be vanilla between them for a few years. They slowly add spice over the years they are together, I think it is also Furihata who opens the door to this sexual experimentation. Akashi is so prim and proper, I don't think anyone would really plant the seed in him to pursue Spicer sex. No locker room talk in school. He doesn't really have time to look into the culture of sex. I can only see Kuroko telling him about his sex life and even then that's a maybe. But Furihata has all of these things. He has locker room talk. Time to learn the culture. Takao or his buddy's tell him what they do. I also think Furihata does have a submissive side that he wants to explore with Akashi and wow would you look at that, they fit together like puzzle pieces.

47. Does either of them have a secret that could potentially ruin their relationship?

Scenario 1: If Bokushi never reintegrated, the secret that would ruin their relationship is if Furihata had a favorite of his personalities and/or hated one. That's his brother. It's both of them or neither of them.

Scenario 2: I mentioned briefly earlier that Akashi went overseas for graduate school. I think a secret that could ruin their relationship is that one night, he went drinking with some college friends, got drunk, missed his boyfriend, thought he saw him in the bar, kissed him, had sex with him, and only realized at dawn his mistake. That one beside him was a stranger. They were still dating but their relationship was strained. They missed each other. Akashi wasn't able to support Furihata. And Furihata felt like he was holding Akashi back, limiting him, not enough for Akashi. Akashi knew if he told him what happened Furihata would take it as confirmation of his worst insecurities. Now years later, reunited, he thinks about telling Furihata this secret now and then. But he's not sure if it's something Furihata will laugh off or be deeply betrayed by and end things. When he is sure Furihata’s response will be laughter, there is a ring sitting at the bottom of his desk drawer waiting.

58. Who’s more likely to hold a grudge after an argument?

Interesting… Akashi holds a grudge like the best of them but if it's Furihata… He is quick to melt and forgive. So I gotta go with Furihata. Akashi accepts a kiss and an apology and it's forgotten. Furihata needs action, commitment, and genuine sorrow. But I think it would be Akashi pulling up old arguments while in one to be petty.

[existslikepristin]

I edited this post with my (essentially) finished paint job as well as a rundown of how I got crushed in the first game, in case you're curious to hear about my utter failure that kept me from posting this for a week, lol. If you're not, there's smut after this Keep Reading line

Tags: NSFW, S.M.U.T., genie, anal

(Story Index)

On the table again…

You rub at your temples and finish stepping out of your shorts. You’re hearing a lot of things that feel rather unnecessary, and frankly, you’re more than a bit tired. “Can we just… let’s go with the table again.”

Joy snorts back a laugh and nods. “Sure thing, master.” And with that, she floats into the air again, drifts horizontally over your head, and settles onto her back on the table. The mug of tea lands next to her face and a curly straw appears, allowing her to sip at it without getting up. She points her legs straight toward the ceiling, blocking her face from view, and, like a dancer—imagine that—, she slowly spreads them to either side. Her ass is still plugged, and her lack of a vagina is still very weird.

“Not trying to be presumptuous with the missionary position, master. Just thought you might like to see how my titties bounce this time. Or feel them. They’re yours to do with as you please, after all. Like the rest of me is.”

You step up and pull the plug out of her ass, taking a bit less time to appreciate the beauty of the action than before, as you’re just in it for the fucking this time. You take note of the brief deluge of your cum that follows, but ultimately pay it no mind, shoving your cock past it and into Joy’s butt.

For a second, Joy gargles sensually, but then swallows the mouthful of tea and moans instead.

It’s just as effortless as the first time, fucking Joy’s asshole. You glide in and out, getting massaged all the way. You could get used to this.

And yup, you’re used to it! You’ve already grown accustomed to it. It’s only been like half an hour since meeting Joy, and you can see yourself buried in her ass for probably forever. Not that you’ll literally do that. Probably.

Joy pulls her legs up a bit, and you take in the view except for her weird lack of pussy. Her thighs jiggle with each of your thrusts, her lips gape as she pants, and her boobs tempt you with their bounces. She did specifically say she was getting on her back so you could see them, and she did say they were yours, so…

You lean forward, scooping Joy’s tits into your palms. They’re just barely too large for your hands, which, as you think about it, doesn’t quite make sense as a measurement for boobs. It’s not clear exactly how you’re supposed to define a handful. Like, Joy’s tits aren’t that big. If you had to guess, they’re even a little smaller than the average (or so you assume from all the porn you watch). With the way they spread out from your fingers a bit as you squeeze though, you're not so sure you can call them a handful or even know exactly where to measure from. The bottom of the tit is pretty easy to determine, but where it ends on top is more nebulous. You could measure a handful if they were upright and you were behind her, cupping them. You suspect then she’d be just about a handful, but so could any number of other boob sizes. You might have to start specifying between heaping, rounded, and leveled handfuls perhaps, like in recipes. Then, of course, you’d need to take into account the size of your hand—

“Something on your mind, master?”

Options:

Yes. It’s time to go to a strip club, so you can take some scientific measurements. Right after you’re finished here.

Oh shit, right! You’re supposed to be meeting with a friend of yours tonight! Right after you’re finished here.

Suddenly you want to bake something. Tell her to help you bake something. Right after you’re finished here.

You’re still thinking about other exotic fucking locations. That was the second place vote… You don’t even have to finish here.

[jokerislandgirl32]

Karma’s A B*tch…

So I heard the news surrounding the JoJo version of this song and this version, and I had to listen to both and watch the videos (bit traumatized by JoJo’s ngl… she’s literally looked like Pennywise at one point and he freaks me out, so yeah…).

I am personally crazy about Brit’s version, and the music video for this version fits the lyrics perfectly! So, it made me think about Zach and Violet (of course, lol)! And even though they don’t “cheat” on each other, there are undertones of infidelity in their relationship prior to them getting together because they both pursue other relationships while in love with each other. If that makes sense.

So, I see this as a Zach song because he regrets what he does to Violet, but after finding out she’s dating too he becomes jealous and hopes karma will seek revenge on her. But Zach’s spiteful wish does not play out as he hoped…Violet’s hurt in the process, in ways he never imagined.

See below cut for some fic clips, connections to the song. Please note that there are mentions of infidelity (kind of?), cursing, implied abuse, ill wishes, mentions of alcohol consumption and drunkenness, and implied illness.

“Another late night, another crazy mood And I didn't think twice what it would do to you I was a wild child, you always knew it It was a matter of time before I blew it…”

I stood slumped in the doorway to my hotel room looking at Gourmand with annoyance, he stood in front of me holding something behind his back, “what do you want?”

Gourmand shuffled his feet and produced a tea service tray, “I-I know you left sick…I thought some peppermint tea might help.”

I raised an eyebrow at him, grimacing at the mention of sickness that had landed me under the table and in my room for the entire evening, unknown to him or anyone else in attendance I hadn’t just eaten too many clams…I was so drunk I felt like I’d pass out at any moment, but I wasn’t drunk enough to not know he hadn’t just come to my room to give me tea, “oh yeah? You care about me? You wanna make sure I’m okay, ha! If I didn’t know better I’d say you have a crush on me!”

Gourmand’s eyes met mine, a serious expression on his face, “I do…”

I felt my jaw drop. All I had been thinking about that day was Violet. So much so I’d tried to drink her memory away… and it hadn’t helped, but this…this opportunity…it wasn’t one I could pass up. Maybe I couldn’t drink her memory away, but replacing the relationship I so desired with Violet, for one with Gourmand instead…wasn’t such a bad option.

“Why don’t you come on in,” I purred, giving him my most charming smile.

Karma's a bitch, I should've known better If I had a wish, I would've never messed around When I saw the pics of you with HIM, I felt the knife twist Karma's a bitch, and HE’S with you right now

I growled as I saw the social media post sent to me from one of Violet’s old schoolmates, Iris. Violet was in bed with another man! That creep Travis who’d tried to hurt her the night I kissed her, the night she let it slip she loved me, the night I fell for her! She was with him and not with me!

How could she do this to me?!? Sure, I’d been with Gourmand, sure I’d stopped any romantic advances toward her, but I loved her! I wanted her! She was meant to be with me, not a creep like him! Well, I decided, she can have him, she can do whatever she wants. I don’t need her! And she’ll get…she’ll get what’s coming to her.

“And when I lay me down to sleep, it's not your body next to me This lonely room feels so empty, just me and my regrets…”

I lay in bed staring at a picture of Violet and me together from her high school graduation, she looked so happy, vibrant, beautiful. My hand had been resting on her stomach, I’d started tickling her to get her to laugh for the picture and she’d placed her hand over mine to stop me…then her aunt had snapped the photo…it looked like we were a couple.

I turned over trying to get her off my mind: she was with Travis, I’d just broken up with Gourmand, all of this was my fault. At that moment my cellphone rang, I usually would have ignored it at such an hour, but the number said it was coming from North Carolina and that piqued my interest. Violet was in North Carolina, maybe she’d gotten a new number?

I answered the phone trying to keep my voice steady, but it broke from my anticipation, “H-Hello?”

“Zach?” It wasn’t Violet’s voice that greeted me, but that of her cousin Paige.

“PAIGE?” I shouted, jolting up in bed, “why are you calling me now? Do you realize what time it is?!?!”

Paige sounded different, not her usual sassy and sarcastic self, it sounded like she’d been crying, “I’m sorry Zach, but it’s Violet…something is wrong, she won’t talk to me…It’s that boyfriend of hers…”

She paused sniffling, “I know…I know Iris sent you the picture, and I know you are mad and you haven’t been talking to her, but it’s not what it looks like…look at it again…At her back and arms…the scratches…Violet’s being…I think he’s hurting her…Zach, please come down here, she’ll listen to you, she’ll talk to you. Please help her….”

My mouth went dry, I shakily opened the pictures app on my phone and look at the picture I’d cursed at every day since I got it…Paige was right…something was very wrong…and before I broke down in tears of my own I choked out, “I’ll be there tomorrow, we can talk about it more…let me know where to meet you,” before I disconnected the call.

An anguished sob left my throat, “THIS IS ALL MY FAULT!”

Picrew Used

I know this is a lot to take in, but I hope you all enjoyed it! I’m really trying to flesh out Ziolet’s story, and posts like this are part of that process!

[bhaalbaaby]

Penelope Gortash Kaine

i have too much of these three, but here's a snippet of a scene that would never happen (Penelope free-use with Gortash at a meeting between the Dead Three Chosen. Ketheric is not involved but he's there lol)

Ketheric begins speaking, a long speech about something Penelope doesn't know. She tunes him out, clenching around Gortash. He doesn't react that she can see, but she feels his hand slip from her waist to between her thighs. Would she moan out? Ketheric would probably smite her on the spot.

She keeps her head down as her brows furrow, biting her lip hard. No, she wouldn't make any noise. She can feel an external prodding in her mind, gentle and cautious.

Kaine.

She swallows hard as she makes up thoughts, deciding to make him jealous. Gods, he's so thick, her mind repeats, as do images of her ride on the way here, the fact the carriage didn't get rocked off the road.

Kaine's eyes burn into hers when she glances over at him, trying to keep her face as neutral as possible. She looks away again as Gortash picks up his pace slightly as Ketheric goes to the board of their plans, talking and droning on.

Penelope tastes blood in her mouth from how hard she bites the inside of her cheek. How much longer is this meeting? She tries not to pant, his other hand stroking her tail. How is Ketheric not noticing? She leans forward, lifting her hips slightly for some reprieve as Gortash moves forward, bringing her back down. She huffs, her heart skipping over itself. She glances back at him, panting. She can feel Kaine's eyes hot on her.

Gortash smirks as he pulls himself out, her glance warning enough. Her legs feel like putty as she relaxes back in his lap, his cock out of sight. She takes a deep breath and curls up in his lap, wishing he didn't get her wound up with the little bit they've done. She lets her mind wander as Gortash pets her, this time more inclined to talk and interject.

The tension between the three men is unbearable. She slips off Gortash's lap, pulls her dress down, and paces quietly. Kaine looks annoyed as she stares at the giant mural behind his head. She comes closer, standing close to the seated man. She can feel his warmth at her side. She imagines him taking her in his lap, declaring his turn, and showing Gortash how it's done.

She stares hard at the painting, letting the desire wash over her. Kaine clears his throat, sitting forward. "You should leash your pet, Enver." His tone is cold and unfamiliar.

Penelope steels as she looks down at the man. "She's fine to wander. Besides, she knows who she belongs." She takes a step away from him, cursing Kaine in her head. Just as she has to work, so does he.

She returns to Gortash, his cock hardening under her ass. Just for that comment, she'd get him back. She rocks her head against the counselor, who sits and listens as Kaine speaks. Kaine looks past her until Gortash readjusts, his cock slipping inside of Penelope with ease.

She's slightly embarassed at how wet she is, the noise obvious. She decides to distract him, bouncing her hips against Gortash. She's so surprised Gortash is not reacting as she can barely contain herself, unsure if it's from being worked up by Kaine or if the angle is just right. She closes her eyes, panting quietly as she rides him, her breasts barely staying contained in her low-cut dress. Could she come like this? She clenches around him as she rests against the desk.

As Kaine speaks, his voice enters her mind. "You're getting so close, but you're not thinking about him. You're thinking about me, wishing I had you over this table, making you cry my name."

Her toes curl as Gortash grips her tail, pleasure shooting through her brain. She has to be quiet. She looks up at Kaine, wishing he would come over and fill her mouth. "Ah, not now, naughty girl. We'll have to decide your punishment later." Kaine whispers as she moans softly. She covers it with a yawn.

Gortash slows down, pulling her back towards him. "That was an amazing speech, Kaine. You are becoming quite the leader." Gortash says as he slips out Penelope. He moves her with ease as he stands, his turn to speak. His seat is warm, but it's not the same as feeling his body under her.

Kaine still lingers. "Touch yourself." She looks at him, exasperated. She doesn't know how Ketheric didn't see her riding Gortash as hard as she did. She doesn't trust that the old man would allow this to continue if he saw her. She sits inconspicuously, slipping her hands between her thighs as her fingertips flutter over her wetness. "Good girl…"

She stops when Gortash stands behind the chair, massaging her shoulders. Kaine looks amused as Penelope takes a moment to readjust.

"I'd say we end this meeting for now," Ketheric says, resting his head on his fist. He looks tired but pleased.

"Good. We shall stay for one more day before I must return Penelope to the city."

Ketheric rolls his eyes as he stands. "What you do with your pet matters not to me."

Gortash scoffs as he looks towards Kaine. "I suppose when you've been dead for years, your libido never comes back, huh, Kaine?"

Kaine smirks as he stands, "Perhaps. Or it's more controlled."

Gortash smiles, proud of himself, as his hand rests on her waist once Penelope stands. "You should join us this evening, Kaine. Penelope is such a treat." Penelope's eyes panic at the thought. She's sure Gortash knows they have slept with each other, and he's initiating it now…