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aventurineswife · 2 months ago

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Can I ask for aventurine with an s/o who looks really giddy and excited except they're actually really nervous and depressive inside to the point they randomly stop acting happy one day and tell Aventurine that he can break up with them anytime he wants since they don't feel sufficient for him? Like they don't think they can compete with the pretty ladies he must see at the casino?-

“You're Everything”

Summary: Aventurine has always been able to read people, but the one person he can't quite figure out is you, his partner. Though outwardly cheerful, you've been hiding insecurities beneath your bright demeanor. One evening, during a quiet moment at home, your walls finally come down as you confess your self-doubt, feeling unworthy of Aventurine’s affection. This revelation shatters the illusion that everything is fine, and Aventurine takes the opportunity to reassure you of your worth.

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Romance, Emotional Support, Insecurity, Reassurance, Vulnerability, Tender Moments, Established Relationship, Confessions, Trust.

Warnings: Mild emotional distress, Insecurity/confidence issues, Mild mentions of self-doubt.

A/N: shit why does that sound like me...? 😕💔

Aventurine had always been able to read people, to sense when something wasn’t quite right, when the masks people wore didn’t match the truth lurking beneath. But there was something about you—about how you always wore that giddy, almost dizzying smile—that kept him second-guessing himself. You never seemed to show your hand, always too busy hiding your true feelings behind that infectious energy.

It had taken time, but over the months of your relationship, he’d come to know you better, catching the subtle hints when your laughter wasn’t quite as bright or your movements just a little too stiff. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t worry—his strategic mind always assumed something was amiss, but you had become his anchor. He’d convinced himself that he didn’t need to dig deeper, that everything was fine as long as you looked happy. But deep down, that little seed of doubt always lingered, nestled in the back of his mind.

And that day... that day it all came crashing down.

It started with a quiet evening at home. The two of you had shared a meal, laughed about something trivial, and as always, you had worn that bubbly, almost too-exuberant smile. But there was a shift, a subtle drop in the energy that only someone who had spent so much time with you would notice. The tension in your shoulders, the way your eyes darted away when he met your gaze—it was like a veil had dropped, leaving a raw vulnerability behind.

You didn’t say anything at first, as if waiting for him to notice, to say something. But then, just as he was about to speak, you broke the silence.

"I don't think I'm good enough for you." you muttered, voice strained. Your hands trembled slightly, though you tried to keep them hidden in your lap.

Aventurine’s heart twisted. The moment you said those words, the mask shattered, and the heavy truth hit him. You hadn’t been your usual self—hadn't been genuinely happy—and he knew it was time to uncover the secret you’d been holding in.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, studying you carefully. “What do you mean by that?” His tone was soft, but there was a depth of concern behind it.

You swallowed, trying to compose yourself, but the words kept slipping out in a rush. "I—I don’t know, I just feel... like you could do so much better. I see how you are at the casino, surrounded by all those beautiful, confident women, and I... I can’t compete with them. I don’t even feel like I’m enough for you. You can... break up with me anytime you want. I wouldn't blame you."

The words hit Aventurine like a sucker punch. He froze for a moment, his usually steady hand twitching as he fought the urge to reach out and pull you into his arms. But instead, he stayed where he was, keeping his distance, allowing the weight of your words to settle between the two of you.

His gaze softened, his eyes fixing on you with an intensity that left no room for doubt. “You think I’m with you because of how you compare to others?” he asked, his voice a little more stern than usual. But underneath it was something deeper—something fragile, as if he was trying to keep his own composure intact.

Your head hung low, and you nodded, unable to meet his eyes. “I don’t know… It just feels like... I’m not enough for someone like you. You deserve someone who can make you happy without all this baggage."

Aventurine let out a small sigh, shaking his head slightly, as if processing the sheer weight of your words. His lips twitched upward into a soft, bittersweet smile, the kind that spoke of knowing something far deeper than surface-level impressions. He stood and walked over to you slowly, his movements calculated, but not with the usual sharpness of someone managing a deal. No, this was different. His steps were careful, as if afraid of shattering the delicate balance between the two of you.

Reaching out, he cupped your chin gently with one hand, lifting your face so you would meet his gaze. "You really think I care about comparing you to other people?" His voice, though steady, held a quiet intensity that resonated through you. "Look at me. Look at me, and understand something."

You blinked up at him, your heart thundering in your chest.

Aventurine exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “What matters to me, what’s always mattered to me, is you. Not the ‘pretty ladies,’ not the ones who look perfect on the outside. I’ve never cared about that. Not when it’s you who can make me laugh when the world feels like it’s closing in. Not when it’s you who makes me feel... human, not just the strategist, not just the Stoneheart. I don’t need anyone else."

You felt a pang in your chest at his words, but it only deepened when he continued.

“You think you're not enough, but you're everything. The fact that you’re here, sharing this with me, means more than you can imagine. You want to know why I chose you?” His voice was softer now, coaxing, as if breaking through a dam that had held so much back. "Because you're you. You don't have to pretend to be someone you're not. You never have to compete with anyone else, not when I’ve already chosen you."

Tears welled in your eyes, but you didn’t wipe them away. His words felt like a balm to wounds you hadn't realized were so deep.

Aventurine gave you a small, sincere smile, his gaze unwavering. “I’m not going anywhere. And if you ever doubt it again, I’ll remind you. But I’m asking you now, don’t doubt yourself. Not for a second. You’re exactly what I need, exactly what I want.”

The weight that had been crushing your chest seemed to lift, and for the first time in a long while, you breathed a little easier. You couldn’t help but let out a shaky laugh, your lips curving upward despite the wetness still on your cheeks.

Aventurine laughed with you, the sound warm and full of tenderness. “There’s that smile again. I’m never letting go of it.” He wiped a stray tear from your cheek with his thumb, his eyes glimmering with something you couldn’t quite put into words.

In that moment, you understood. You weren’t just his partner. You were his, completely and irrevocably, no matter what the world outside thought or how you felt inside.

And with that, you finally let the real smile break free, one that didn’t feel forced, one that was only for him.

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midnightbears · 1 month ago

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✿ duskbound, afterlight.

#STARRING: cybertronian femme reader & other characters.

#TAGS: fighting. lots of fighting. wounds. mentions of pain. flashbacks. 'alluding' to prostitution.

#NOTES: i actually feel so weird for this chapter because not much happens (in a sense), but i can't stress enough how much i want you to feel the mc as an actual character instead of this just being a romance story, and i'm establishing this not only for you but also for myself! you will need to read the mc's character arcs and individual chapters, even if they're long or you might think are unnecessary. if you don't read them, you're going to miss out on crucial points of the story! character arcs for your mcs are essential! even when they're just y/n! y/n is still a character, and they need a good backstory and moments to flesh them out thoroughly. fanfiction should be made with as much love and care as a 'real' book would need to be. with my usual rant issued, enjoy <3

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

You remembered setting down the tiny bundle of belongings you carried, the meager possessions you owned neatly placed on the edge of your new berth, and your new pickaxe and hammer drill. You were still deciding where to put your things when the voice of who would be your new berthroom companion caught you off guard, breaking the silence like a sudden gust of wind.

“You can come out, my love. All is well.”

You had quizzingly looked at her after the words left her mouth, but you grew even more confused when you realized she was not looking your way. Instead, she was looking at the small locker at the end of her berth.

There was a hesitant creak, the metallic sound echoing in the quiet room. A small servo gripped the edge of the locker’s door, trembling slightly, and then a tiny figure peeked out—a sparkling, her frame barely more than a fragile outline against the dim light. She was almost painfully small, her light turquoise plating catching the faint glow in the room.

“Come here, my light,” Starlight called out gently, extending a servo in a welcoming gesture as she sat at the edge of her berth.

The sparkling hesitated, her optics flicking nervously between you and her carrier. Her whole frame trembled with uncertainty.

You tried to make yourself look smaller, less imposing, feeling your spark crumple and crush with sympathy and curiosity at the existence of such innocence in this hellhole. So many questions and doubts ran through your processor at a speed that even the most talented racers would be jealous of.

Then, with a deep vent that sounded almost like a sigh, the sparkling took a cautious step toward her carrier. And another. And another. Until she was close enough to be scooped up into her arms.

“There you are,” She said with a tender smile, gathering the sparkling to her chest as if she were the most precious thing in the universe. The little one buried her face against her mother's chassis, and you could hear the faint whirr of her tiny cooling fans as she snuggled close, seeking comfort in the familiar embrace. Her servo moved slowly up and down the sparkling’s back. “I’m sorry for scaring you, sweetie. You’re very brave, are you not?”

Suddenly, she looked at you.

“I’m glad they sent another femme, I wasn’t about to take chances with someone who wouldn’t understand what it’s like.” She said. Although her voice was steady and unembellished, an undercurrent of intensity ran through it—tender and fiercely protective, issuing a warning. You could sense that this caution wasn’t aimed at you, but rather at some shadowy threat that lingered just beyond reach. “If they’d sent a mech, I would have thrown him out myself.”

You blinked, taken aback by her straightforwardness. You nodded slowly, trying to keep your expression open and unthreatening. Your voice was a little hesitant, unsure of how to respond to her. “I... I’m glad I’m here too.”

“Good,” she said, a half smile on her lip components, her gaze not wavering. “Then we’ll get along just fine. I’m Starlight, this is Vaportrail... she’s my everything. And I won’t let anything—or anyone—hurt her.”

Her tone now had no softness, only a hard-edged determination that made your spark tighten. This wasn’t a carrier who would let her guard down easily, not for anyone, and certainly not for someone she didn’t trust. But there was a flicker of relief in her optics, a softening around the edges as if admitting that your presence didn’t feel like a threat was a victory all on its own.

Which, in a way, made you very sad.

You opened your dermas, unsure of what to say, but Starlight cut you off with a small smile, her laughing, purple optics seizing you. “Don’t take it personally. I’m just... careful. They don’t make it easy for femmes like us. Especially not for carriers. I’m not about to apologize for doing what I must to keep her safe.”

You nodded quickly. “I—I understand. I don’t want to intrude. I just... I didn’t realize you had a little one here.”

“No, it’s fine,” Starlight said, waving a servo dismissively but not loosening her hold on Vaportrail. “You’re here now, and that’s that. They didn’t exactly ask my opinion before sending you, but... you seem alright.” Her optics scanned you up and down like she was weighing you, judging if you were genuinely trustworthy. Whatever she saw, it made her relax a fraction. “We’ll see how it goes.”

There was a silence that felt heavier than it should, and Vaportrail shifted a little, peeking out from the safety of her carrier’s hold. Her optics were still wide and oscillating, but there was a flicker now, like the spark of a tinderbox, and you managed a tentative smile. It felt awkward and unsure, but it seemed the right move because Vaportrail didn’t look away.

Starlight’s expression softened again, just a little, as she glanced down at her daughter. She leaned in and murmured, “This is…” She looked back up at you precipitously, “Sorry, what’s your name?”

You told her your new designation, the new number of the H branch in Mining Outpost R–02. You’d need to get used to it, but it would be easy enough. The overseer of your branch had already taken to refer to you as simply ‘8’.

Starlight almost grimaced at your words but soon looked down at the sparkling. “This is H-08. She’s going to stay with us for a while.”

The sparkling didn’t respond, but she didn’t hide either, and you took that as a small victory.

Starlight turned her optics towards you, revealing the complexities within her gaze—gentleness intertwined with determination, a fierce sense of protection that nearly felt rebellious. Above all, you noticed a tentative hope. It was delicate, nearly fragile, resembling something seldom relied upon and sustained by pure resolve. It felt like she was challenging you, silently urging you to either validate her doubts or, maybe, to offer her a reason to believe.

“Just make yourself comfortable,” she said with a half-smirk. “But don’t go thinking you’re a guest. You’re part of this now. And if you’ll be here, you’ll do your part to keep her safe, too.”

You nodded, meeting her gaze with all the sincerity you could muster.

“Of course,” you said. “I’ll do my best.”

You didn’t expect to follow Bluey’s advice that well.

Although you still felt anxious, there was one important lesson he ensured you understood, which was the primary reason you were managing to perform mediocrely well in the current match. Five simple words, but ones he made sure to drill into you, even at the cost of hearing him utter the sentence in your dreams.

“Always keep your head cool.”

The arena bore the scars of your prolonged clash—scorched craters, gouges in the walls, and the acrid tang of overheated metal. Across the battered expanse, your opponent circled behind a wall of waste metal. He was tall and bulky, his frame a juggernaut that had already tested your limits more than once.

A younger you might have faltered by now, let exhaustion or his relentless power shake your resolve. But this wasn’t then. You adjusted your stance, steadying your frame and keeping Bluey’s advice sharp in your processor. This wasn’t over yet.

“Let them think they’ve got the upper hand, then take it from them in one clean swoop.”

Your opponent grinned, baring sharp teeth, his optics gleaming with something dark and eager. He lunged toward you, hurling a heavy swing of his greatsword, too fast and keen for a clean kill.

Good. You could work with that.

You ducked low, slipping just out of reach. He lunged forward, his momentum betraying him as he faltered, thrown off balance for a fleeting moment. The crowd's uproar filled the air, their cheers rising in a mighty wave, drowning out all other sounds. Bright flashes of light erupted around you, glinting off your polished armor and that of your opponent, creating a dazzling display that danced in the periphery of your vision.

“Most mechs here don’t think before they swing. Let them come to you. Half the fight is watching them trip over themselves. They’ll do half the work if you let them.”

You let him close in again, his optics narrowing as he swung, aiming for your helm this time. A broad swing of his arm—you had seen it a dozen times in practice with Bluey by now. You sidestepped and his fist cut through space, too slow to catch you. The warhammer in your grasp seemed to flow into your movements, and you did not even feel its heaviness.

He cursed, stumbling again, his frustration evident as he recovered, his vents heaving. Bluey was right; your opponent wasn’t thinking, only reacting. And now, with him unbalanced, it was time to make your move.

"Think quick, strike quicker. You don’t need to go for a kill shot in friendly matches. Just hit them where it hurts.”

So you did. Darting forward, you aimed low with your weapon, catching him squarely in the side with a swift, well-placed jab to his knee joint. The impact reverberated through your frame, his armor giving way just enough for you to feel the shock of metal against metal. He staggered, his vents hissing in pain, and you took advantage of his faltering balance, pressing forward with another strike to his leg.

His frame buckled, his weight crashing to one knee as he tried and failed to push himself back up. His optics flared with rage as he swiped at you again, desperation taking over, but you were already out of reach, watching his movements with a clear, unclouded gaze.

"A calm mind’s your greatest weapon. Most fights end the second your opponent loses his cool. Hold onto yours, and you’ll outlast them every time.”

You watched as your opponent struggled, rage overtaking his features as he realized his momentum had failed him. He staggered back, clutching his damaged leg, his optics wild, searching for some way to turn the tide. But you were already moving, closing in before he could react. A quick swipe to his shoulder joint sent him stumbling back again, a desperate growl tearing from his vocalizer as his arm dropped, sparking where the wiring had split.

The crowd’s roars escalated, but for once, the noise didn’t faze you. You kept your focus on him, your field of vision narrowing down to this one mech and his dwindling options.

“A hit’s only as strong as the bot that lands it. Don’t go for flashy moves if a simple strike will do the job.”

So you didn’t. You kept it simple and calculated, landing a swift, final blow to his remaining arm joint. His frame shuddered, forced down by the impact as he slumped forward, defeated but still functional, vents whirring unevenly as he struggled to catch his breath.

You took a step back, exhaling as you held your stance, ready to react to any last-ditch effort he might make. But there was nothing—no fight left in him, just the slow, begrudging slump of a mech who knew he’d been bested.

Another one. You’d done it! Shifting your helm toward the other side of the arena, you glimpsed the opening that connected the arena to the Gladiators’ lobby, and you swore that behind the bars, you could see a pair of familiar ochre-pigmented optics looking at you.

Bluey was there too, flashing a cheerful, childish thumbs-up as a wide grin spread across his face. He mimicked a series of playful punches aimed at the air, then broke into applause, cheering you on with boundless enthusiasm. You did not mind it. It actually made you smile.

Just as you turned toward the exit, you were so close to doing so as you began taking the first step; a pair of guards came to haul the mech onto a stretcher, and one of them harshly gripped your shoulder, evoking a grunt from your voicebox.

“You’re not done.”

You wrenched yourself free from his hold but stared at him confusedly, “We were the last ones on the list for today.”

“Not anymore.” The other answered for his partner, staring intensely at you despite his visor. “There’s been a last-minute change for your matches.”

‘Bullway.’ You looked away with irritation in your features (never directed at them), which was answer enough for the pair of guards. They began carrying the wounded gladiator away, fighting the urge to stifle their laughs while the mech deliriously quaked about his pain.

With a languid motion, you allowed your shoulders to roll back, reclaiming your position at the heart of the arena. To entertain the multitude of cybertronians around you, you threw your arms wide above your helm, sending a ripple of exhilaration through the crowd, igniting a cacophony of cheers and shouts.

You gazed at them in mild, calculated satisfaction. In some manner, the audience determined the level of excitement in the fight, and you felt a sense of relief knowing it would be exceptionally some time before you started boring them, even if you felt disgusted by their entertainment.

Suddenly, the other gate opened.

He emerged from the shadows. You’d seen him before, though only in passing. You hadn’t paid much attention to him then; now, it was impossible to look away.

His frame was massive, and his armor was scarred from dozens of battles. The faint glow of his optics burned like embers, and the sharpness of his gaze cut through the haze of dust and noise that filled the arena. His steps were heavy and measured, the kind of stride that wasn’t rushed because it didn’t need to be.

He stopped in the center of the pit, his helm tilting slightly as his optics locked onto you.

“So,” he said, his voice low and gravelly, carrying easily over the noise. “This is what they’ve got for me today?”

You tightened your grip on your warhammer, your digits aching. He was assessing you. You could feel it—a predatory gaze that lingered just long enough for you to start overthinking. Still, you said nothing. Words were a distraction. Both Bluey and Megatronus made points about that.

He seemed to take your silence as an insult. His mouth pulled into a sharp grin that didn’t reach his optics.

“They’re really scraping the bottom of the barrel now, aren’t they?” he sneered, his voice dripping with disdain, each word sharp as a dagger. “Sending me, Celsius, some nobody.”

Your helmet shifted slightly, and the question slipped from your dermas before you could rein in your need to make him angry. “Who?”

In an instant, the atmosphere around him transformed dramatically, thickening with an almost electric tension. It surged through him, coiling like a tightly wound spring just moments before it snapped, tight and expectant. The playful mockery that had once danced mischievously in his optics was snuffed out, leaving behind an unsettling void. In its place, a chilling darkness crept in, settling heavily over his features, distorting the lines of his face.

“‘Who?’” he repeated, his voice dropping to a growl. “You don’t know who I am?”

You stared at him, unflinching. “No.”

The crowd caught wind of the exchange, and a wave of laughter rippled through the stands. His frame stiffened, his optics narrowing as the noise grew louder.

“You’re funny,” he said, though his tone suggested he didn’t find it amusing. “That’s good. Keep that up—it’ll make this more entertaining.”

Without warning, he lunged.

For a mech his size, he moved with startling speed, closing the distance between you in a handful of strides. His fist came down like a hammer, a strike meant to pulverize. You twisted away just in time, his blow slamming into the ground with a force that sent tremors up through your stabilizers.

You darted back, your hammer raised defensively as you sized him up.

He was fast, yes, but his movements were heavy, over-committed. He fought like someone who had never needed to think about his strength—who had always relied on brute force to overpower his opponents.

“Stay still!” he barked, his voice sharp with irritation as he swung again, the arc of his arm slicing through the air.

You ducked, letting his momentum carry him past you.

“You’re wasting energy,” you said, the words slipping out before you could think better of it.

His growl was low and guttural, and when he turned back to you, his optics blazed with rage.

“You’ve got a smart mouth, I heard,” he said, his vents heaving. “Let’s see how smart it is when I’m done with you.”

He lunged at you once more, his movements becoming increasingly wild and unrestrained, each swing of his fists wide and erratic. You sidestepped, remembering the footwork Bluey had practically made you memorize. Your opponent wasn’t relying on his tactical knowledge; instead, he was fueled by a burning sense of pride. That pride, however, was proving to be his greatest weakness, as it blinded him to the precision and finesse with which you fought.

“Who trained you?” he sneered, his words cutting through the air like shrapnel. “Or did they just toss you in here to die?”

You didn’t answer. There was no point. Instead, you waited, watching for the next opening.

It came sooner than you expected.

He swung wide again, his arm sweeping out in a broad arc that left his side exposed. You stepped in, driving your hammer into the joint of his leg. The impact sent a jolt up your arms, and his armor buckled under the force. He staggered, a snarl tearing from his vocalizer as he struggled to stay upright.

“You’ll regret that,” he spat, his optics wild with fury.

Once again, you didn’t respond. You didn’t need to.

He lunged again, his movements growing sloppier with each passing moment. His rage was blinding him, clouding his judgment. He was making mistakes, and you were ready to exploit them.

You darted around him, landing a blow on his shoulder joint. He cursed, the sound raw and guttural, as his arm dropped, sparking at the connection. His frame trembled with the effort of staying upright, his vents rattling like loose machinery.

“Fight me!” he roared, his voice cracking in frustration. “Stop running and fight me!”

You held your ground, your optics steady as you watched him. “I don’t need to fight you,” you said, your tone calm, almost detached. “You’re beating yourself.”

The words struck him like a physical blow. He froze, his optics wide with disbelief, before the rage returned in full force. He charged blindly, his movements a chaotic blur of desperation and fury.

You stepped aside, his momentum carrying him past you. Then, with one final swing, you brought your hammer down on his remaining shoulder joint.

The impact sent him crashing to the ground, his frame buckling under the weight of his arrogance. He lay there, his vents sputtering, his optics dimming as he struggled to lift himself.

You stood over him, your stance steady, your frame casting a shadow over his.

He looked up at you, his optics burning with hatred and humiliation.

“Who,” you said, your voice low, broken by your tired breaths between syllables, “are you supposed to be again?”

The silence that followed was deafening.

Then, like a thunderclap, the crowd erupted. Their cheers and jeers mingled in a cacophony that reverberated through the arena walls, their voices rising in a frenzy. Some shouted your name; others hurled insults at the fallen gladiator. The noise was deafening, but you let it wash over you, standing tall as their energy rippled through the air.

Their way of letting you know: That was an excellent match.

You allowed yourself a glance upward toward the tiered stands. The Overseers’ box loomed above, a dark shape crowded with figures seated in detached luxury. A few of them nodded, the faintest inclinations of approval that barely registered against the clinking of energon cubes and muted laughter from their table.

Most weren’t even watching.

Your optics narrowed as you saw what held their attention. A courier had delivered a tower of tiny energon cubes to their table. One of the bosses reached out, plucking a cube from the precariously stacked pile with the same carelessness as a mech selecting a datapad. Another laughed as the tower wobbled but held its balance.

Your spark twisted violently in your chest.

They weren’t watching. After all the effort, after the pain and adrenaline, the gamble of your life against another’s... you weren’t even worth their attention.

A tower of energon cubes was upstaging you.

A surge of fury swelled in your core, hot and all-consuming. You acted before you could think, your frame moving on instinct alone. With a sharp pull, you wrenched a shoulder plate free from your defeated opponent’s armor, the battered piece of metal groaning as it came loose in your servo.

Then, you hurled the plating across the arena. It sliced through the air, the momentum carrying it in a deadly arc straight toward the Overseers’ box.

The piece struck the energon tower dead-center.

The cubes tumbled spectacularly, scattering across their table and clattering to the floor. Shouts of alarm erupted as some of the bosses scrambled back, some leaping from their seats as the impact sent their delicate drinks and datapads spilling across their laps.

The crowd gasped, the collective intake of air almost louder than their earlier cheers. A shocked silence fell over the pit, stretching taut and electric as every optic turned to you.

For a moment, you simply stood there, your plating heaving as the heat of your anger coursed through you. Then, you inclined the upper part of your frame—just a fraction, the gesture somewhere between mockery and defiance. Your optics locked onto the Overseers as if daring them to look away again.

When you finally turned, you saw that the arena gates had opened at some point, the path to the exit yawning before you. You walked toward it without hesitation, without awaiting dismissal, your pedsteps echoing in the stunned silence that followed you.

Behind you, the crowd erupted louder than before, their voices carrying an amalgamation of shock, awe, and delight. They weren’t just watching now—they were riveted.

An excellent match, indeed.

But as you crossed the threshold into the dim corridors beyond the pit, the noise faded into the distance, and you could feel the weight of the Overseers’ glares pressing against your back. For the first time, you were sure they were paying attention.

Good. Let them.

#midnightbears #transformers #transformers one #transformers x reader #transformers x you #megatron #megatron x you #megatronus x reader #megatronus #megatron x reader #cybertronian reader #d 16 x reader #d 16 x you #tf #orion pax #elita one #optimus prime

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kulemiwrites · 6 months ago

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His Most Prized Possession | Akira Nishikiyama

Genre: Fluff

Rating: Gen

Word count: 2.8 k

Character(s): Akira Nishikiyama, fem!Reader

Author's Note: I started this fic in January of 2022 but I was meant to post it July of that year as a gift to myself.. I have been battling writer’s block HARD since then. I picked this up and dropped it and picked this up and dropped it again and… Honestly, I’m at a point now where I’m not sure if I’ll ever truly ‘finish’ this. But I think I left it at a point where it’s hopefully still readable and basically gets the whole point across? This was basically just gonna be another 5-7k words of Kulemi talking about how pretty she– I mean, the narrator thinks Nishiki is and how in love the reader and Nishiki are with each other lol. So, yeah. Yay for you guys- I shut the tf up for once. (I was forced)

Too long for Tumblr? Read on AO3!

This was the first time someone other than Kiryu had come with him to help him wash his car and he was thrilled that someone was you.

Akira’s dark hair danced in the gentle wind passing through the window, tickling his cheek while stray strands caught in his lashes. Each time he brought the car to a halt, the hand that had been guiding the steering wheel reached up to brush it back, fingertips tender as they grazed his scalp. He’d been wearing a short sleeved shirt that was quite generous in providing view of his carefully toned arms, biceps bulging with each maneuver. The summer air was dry and it kept him licking his lips to provide them with a bit of moisture.

Soon, he’d be asking you to share your chapstick– by way of a kiss. You were sure of it.

The fine hairs on his right arm, relaxed across the window molding, stood, as the air teased through them giving him goosebumps. His self-manicured fingers drummed onto the door panel to the tune of Koi no Disco Queen, a few years old now but just as catchy as the first time he’d heard it.

A soft smile shaped the man’s pink lips, corners twitching in a threat to widen and bare teeth. He fought against those muscles though, knowing that if he gave in, you would tease him and his boyish smile. With his right hand, he wiped at his damp lips, smiling into his knuckles then kneaded into his bottom just a bit before returning to his attempt at stoicism to no avail.

Akira flipped up his blinkers then nibbled at his thumb nail, smirking. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t help himself.

You were going to help him wash his car and he couldn’t be more excited! If he didn’t count the times that Kiryu begrudgingly tagged along, he’d only ever washed his car alone. So, there was something about the prospect of watching you take care of something so dear to him in earnest that made him sort of… giddy, perhaps.

Every so often, he’d switch the hands at the wheel so that he could reach over to your bare thigh and stroke at your supple skin. The gesture was twofold; partly to remind himself that this was really happening and the other to assure you that although he hadn’t said much since he picked you up from the station, he was thinking of you and so very grateful for your company.

When he reached for you this time, you placed your hand atop his and gave him the slightest of squeezes. It concerned him. So, he turned down the radio before glancing over at you with a raised brow– the car again in motion.

“You alright?” he asked, the sudden break in near silence between you two was almost startling.

“I am,” you nodded. “But I guess I’m just a little worried.”

“Really? What are you worried about?” he asked, his thumb massaging at your warm thigh.

“I don't know… What if I mess up, or something?”

“C’mon, what are you talking about? It’s just a little soap and water. What’s the worst that can happen?”

“I could ruin your paint job.” you suggested.

“What are you planning to wash it with? Bricks?” he chuckled.

“Yeah, real funny.” you said, rolling your eyes. “I’m being serious!”

“I know, babe. I can tell and I’m listening.”

“It’s just that...” you began, eyes dancing along the dashboard. “This car is like, your most prized possession or something!”

Akira scoffed, “Is that what you think?”

“Well? Isn’t it?”

“Sure, it’s pretty important to me… Yeah,” he began, now gripping at your thigh. “But I can think of other things that I’d say mean more.”

Approaching a traffic light, Akira slowed the car down to a stop and he used it as an opportunity to face you. His eyes were as gentle as the fingers he brought up to caress your cheek then stroked your jaw. Finally, he smiled at you.

“Babe,” he began. “Let’s try not to overthink this, alright? We’re gonna have fun and I promise that I’m gonna make it worth your while once it’s all said and done. Just… Try to relax for me.”

“I’ll try.” you sigh.

Almost immediately after the breath escaped you, a glimmer of mischief glimmered in your eye and his own widened a tad in response.

“But only if you promise that there’ll be a reward.” you smiled.

He laughed, shaking his head and returning his focus to the road as he began accelerating. “Everyone in this town wants something. Fine, I promise. Whatever you want.”

Folding your arms, you shimmy in your seat and spoke in your most pompous of voices, “Very well, then. I require financial compensation.”

“Understood. Name your price.”

“¥100,000.”

Akira’s neck nearly snapped when he glanced over at you, “O-Oi, isn’t that more than a little steep for someone that’s not even sure they can do it right?”

You gasped, “No way, Akira! You promised that I could have whatever I wanted! Did you not?”

“Uh, yeah, because I was expecting you to say something cute like, ‘a kiss~♥️’ or something like that!” he argued, lips tugging downward. “Ha, ‘¥100,000.’, y’know I don’t pay nearly that much for a professional car detail, right?”

“Huh… So even the ever-flashy yakuza have their limits?” you mumbled, stroking your chin. “Fascinating.”

“Oi, don’t talk about me like I’m some sort of test subject! You know, I expect to get ripped off by randoms in Kamurocho but to be ripped off by my own girlfriend… Fine, if that’s what you want.”

You looked at him with a faux-shocked expression, “That’s all it took for you to cave? Geez, put up more of a fight, why don’t you Nishikiyama! They’ll wring you dry in this town.”

“Listen, a man’s got his pride to look after… Can’t have you underestimating my wallet.”

Laughing, you rolled your eyes then turned to look out of the window. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

He pressed his palm at the top of your head and smirked, “Maybe so.”

The harsh sunlight forced you both to squint. You’d been mentally kicking yourself for not packing a pair of sunglasses or two beforehand, not even the sun visor helped you. He made his final turn then pulled the car beneath a concrete bay, hindering the sun’s rays at last. You rubbed at your eyes, then darted them around at your surroundings taking note of the faint artificial floral notes wafting through the windows and passing your nose. You’d never been to this place before and yet the scent was vaguely nostalgic, almost like summer rain and canned peaches.

There was only one bay and across from it a vacuum canopy on the lot, surrounded by overgrown trees and a single desolate building. It… “belonged to a friend,” Akira told you, a private car wash and from the look of the location, you couldn’t help but wonder if it used to be public and later sold because the original owner couldn’t make a profit.

When you looked over at him, he was stuffing his keys and his pocket and tugging his t-shirt over his head, eager to expose his fit build while he worked. The colorful koi on his back caught your attention when he reached toward the door handle to let himself out and you wondered if it would be okay for him to be brandishing his ink out in public like this. Before you could bring yourself to ask, tossed his top back in, onto his seat behind and winked at you, a flirtatious grin on his lips.

“Time to get to work, _____.” he said, adjusting the waistband of his burgundy board shorts. “You can check me out later.”

“Ugh, please.” you groaned, narrowing your eyes at him but that didn’t change the fact that his comment made heat radiate off your cheeks. He always knew how to fluster you.

You exited the vehicle and stripped down to what you’d prepared to get wet, just in case and then you slinked your way to the trunk where he’d been riffling for his supplies. When you were at his side, Akira sized you up and you could tell from the twinkle in his eye that he approved of your change of clothes.

Very much so.

“Alright.” he said, reaching into his pocket for his wallet.

“Oh, you didn’t need to pay me in advance!” you joked.

“Ha, you wish I was paying you at all.”

“Ah, so you are a cheapskate!”

Akira cut his eyes at you so sharp you might have bled then curtly handed you two ¥1,000 yen notes. “Shut it. I got a job for you, alright?”

“Right!”

His eyes danced over to the plaque hanging on the wall behind your head as you reached for the cash. “Change this out for me, will you?” he asked.

“Sure thing!”

When you turned away from him, you felt a crisp smack at your bottom that startled you but still, you laughed. That must have been repayment for teasing him so much. You didn’t mind. You glanced back at him to find a mischievous smirk playing upon his lips, utterly pleased with himself for managing to cop a feel and get back at you all at once. Shaking your head, you bounce over to the change machine.

It took a little fighting but eventually it ate the notes and spat out a bunch of coins in the equal amount. The money clanked down into the coin return and since there was no surrounding sound to rival it, the clanking made your ears ring.

You grabbed the change and returned to your boyfriend, who had been swiping a long finger along the roof of his car and frowned at the buildup of dirt he’d collected.

“Here you go.” you said, startling him out of his train of thought, attempting to hand it to him.

“Nuh-uh,” Akira shook his head, “This is your job, babe.”

“My job?”

“Yeah, I’ll show you. C’mon.” he said, grabbing the bucket of supplies sitting at his sandaled feet with one hand and leading you toward the control panel with the other. When you reached the wall, he guided you forward, his hand lingered at your lower back. Even without his shirt, you could still get hints of his cologne, a scent that's always been so uniquely him. It nearly made your knees buckle, despite it being far from the first time you’ve taken him in.

“That’s a lot of options.” you said, attempting to distract yourself from the skin of his torso pressed against your arm.

“It’s not so bad once you get used to it. For now,” he began, nudging you close toward the panel, “give it about ¥500.”

And you do.

“Good job, babe. Now, you see that dial? You’re gonna turn it to the sticker with the tire.”

Carefully turning the knob, you found yourself slightly started by the resulting hiss followed by a crack or two behind you. Akira rubbed at your back as if to assure you that it was nothing to be concerned about. Soon, there was a buzz and then the hissing lowered.

“Okay, now you see that gun looking thing hanging up over there?” he said, pointed at the opposite wall. There was a nozzle mounted on the wall that had begun to leak a green fluid. You nodded. “You’re just gonna grab it and use it to coat the tires.”

Sandals smacking the soles of your feet, you set off to collect the nozzle. Your eyes followed the hose up toward the ceiling and noted that the boom followed your direction, knowing that you could relax about accidentally disconnecting something. You pressed the trigger of the wand and frowned when it initially jerked.

“It’s fine, just give it a sec.” he said.

“‘Kay.”

The second pull of the trigger was smoother and you finally began to aim for your targets- the grimy tires and rims. At a glance, you wouldn’t necessarily say that his car was all that dirty. The silver that you were slowly coating seafoam green didn’t appear to have much oil aside from its innermost crevices. Even so, Akira has been speaking about doing this- taking his car for a wash, almost as if he’d been anxious about it, like something bad would happen if he didn’t get it done in time. You thought, if it would make him relax, you were happy to lend him a hand.

When you noticed him closing in on you, he had a brush in tow and he used it to diligently scrub each tire you’d just sprayed. Occasionally, you’d catch him staring at you, a faint smile resting on his lips and he was sure to offer you a couple of words of encouragement or check in to make sure that you were okay. You’d think he was coaching you at a friendly baseball game or something. After you were done spraying the tires, he directed you to hang up the gun and join him on his scrubbing spree with the additional brush he’d bought specifically for today.

“You’re doing great, _____,” he said, joining you and the final tire. “But don’t be afraid to really get in there, alright? Sometimes you’ve gotta be a little tough in those crevices. Otherwise, you’ll be there forever trying to break down that oil and gunk.”

“Oh, right. Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss at your temple before returning his attention to the rim. “Cut yourself a break. Like I said, you’re doing great. ”

Once he was certain that the rim had been thoroughly scrubbed, he took your brush from you, returned them both back to the bucket then led you back to the control panel.

“I never use this one but I’m gonna get it a try today. Wait here, alright?”

He turned the dial to the bug remover, grabbed the sprayer and aimed at his windshield. It wasn’t as if the task took very long but the way you took him in almost seemed to make time stand still. His clenched jaws drew your attention to, for the millionth time, how handsome his facial structure was. His flat high cheekbones, near hollow cheeks coupled with his thin pointed brows made him oh, so pretty but it was his strong jawline and sharp chin that gave him that more rugged appeal.

The one that initially made you worry that getting involved with him would’ve been dangerous somehow and it was, but not for the reasons you might’ve expected. The only trouble he’d caused you was putting you under his spell, by doing nothing but moving about as candidly as this and still managing to steal your breath away.

Wind blew through the bay, sending his shiny black hair, so full of healthy volume, all over his head and with an annoyed click of his tongue, he brushed it back with his fingertips and that’s when he caught you staring. He smiled and with the wind in his hair, he was picture perfect.

“There you are again,” he laughed. “I’m gonna have to start charging you each time I catch you checking me out.”

No matter how much he’d tease you, it always flustered you when he called you out. You couldn’t help it. He truly was breathtaking. “Whatever,” you rolled your eyes. “You wish.”

“So you’re saying I’m wrong?” he said, finally satisfied with his task. “You weren’t checking me out?”

“Very wrong.”

“Funny,” He stepped over toward you, deliberately slow, muscular shoulders swaying with each step. “I could’ve sworn you were undressing me with your eyes over here.”

“You’d like that wouldn’t you? That’d just feed your little ego, wouldn’t it?”

He smiled goofily, wrapping an arm around your waist and leading you back against the wall, “Maybe a little bit.”

“Oh, well that’s just too bad.” you smirk, letting out a huff.

“C’mon, humor me a little.” he pouted, pressing his forehead gently against yours. “You’re too harsh when you get embarrassed.”

“Who says I’m embarrassed? I’m not embarrassed..”

“Liar.”

“Am not.”

“You so are.”

“Says who?”

“Says you,” he said, pressing his lips to the right side of your face. “Tss, your face is gonna burn my lips off!”

“Go away!” you laughed, pushing against his taut chest in a half-hearted attempt to push him off of you but he didn’t budge.

Despite the less than kind temperature, you didn’t mind being sandwiched between the warm concrete wall and his sweat-sheened body. He caged you in, angular brown eyes glistening as they focused on your lips before darting upward to meet your own.

“You’re too cute,” he whispered, leaning in until his lips were a mere breath apart. You anticipated his kiss but instead all you got was:

“Feed the machine another ¥500, would you?”

Please do not reupload/repost/rewrite but likes and a reblog go a long way! Thank you for reading!

If you enjoyed this, you're welcome to check out more of my work! I have a masterlist to save you browse time!

#akira nishikiyama #nishikiyama akira #akira nishikiyama x reader #nishikiyama akira x reader #yakuza x reader #if this is gone in less than a day- just know my anxiety didn't allow me to leave something unfinished up after all.

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cod-thoughts · 3 months ago

Text

Day 7 of 31 days of COD

Word count: 2.3k

Relationships: gaz/soap, ghost/price (all implied)

Tags: Post-mission, cuddling, fluff, slight hurt/comfort but mostly comfort, feelings realisation.

"Thought I'd find you lot in here," Price murmured, his voice quiet so as not to disturb the sleeping pair. He crossed the room, his movements deliberate, and stopped beside Ghost’s chair. He stood there for a moment, his gaze lingering on Ghost longer than necessary, something unspoken passing between them. Ghost tilted his head slightly, meeting Price’s eyes. "Couldn’t sleep?" “Never can, after ops like that.” Price’s gaze shifted back to Soap and Gaz, something soft in his expression. “They look comfortable enough.” Keep reading under the cut or on AO3

The rec room was dim, shadows stretching across the walls from the single lamp on the far side of the room. Ghost sat in his usual chair, a book in hand, the soft crackle of pages turning the only sound. The mission earlier had been rough—one of those operations where every second felt dangerously close to the last. He could still feel the tension in his muscles, the exhaustion sinking deep into his bones.

But Ghost didn’t sleep easily. Not when the events of the day were too raw, too present. His mask stayed on, even now, hiding his face in the solitude of the room. There was comfort in the anonymity, even if no one was around to see him.

Or so he thought.

The door creaked open, and Ghost looked up just in time to see Soap step through. The Scot moved with less energy than usual, his usual cheeky swagger replaced by a quiet weariness. Without a word, Soap sank into the couch across from Ghost, letting out a long sigh as he leaned back, eyes briefly closing.

Ghost glanced back down at his book, though he wasn’t really reading. The silence between them was comfortable, the only sound now Soap’s soft, steady breathing. Eventually, Soap spoke, breaking the quiet.

"Thought you'd be asleep by now," Soap said, his voice low.

Ghost shrugged slightly. "Couldn't."

"Aye, me neither," Soap muttered, running a hand through his hair. "That was too bloody close."

The admission hung in the air between them. Gaz nearly taken out by a sniper, Soap dragging Ghost back from the brink of an explosion, Price holding them all together with commands that grounded them in the chaos. It had been close. Too close.

"Yeah," Ghost finally said, voice tight. "Thought about it."

Soap didn’t push for more. He never did, and Ghost appreciated that. Silence returned, softer this time, the tension easing slightly.

A few minutes passed before the door opened again, and Gaz appeared. He looked just as worn as the others, his body sagging with fatigue. He spotted them, gave a tired nod, and without a word, made his way to the couch.

"Room for one more?" Gaz asked, though he didn’t wait for an answer before collapsing beside Soap. He leant into him, his head finding its place on Soap’s shoulder with the ease of someone who’d done it a hundred times before.

Ghost watched them quietly. Soap didn’t hesitate, adjusting so Gaz could settle more comfortably against him, his arm resting around the younger man’s shoulders in a gesture that felt both protective and tender. Ghost could see it—the closeness, the familiarity.

"Comfy?" Ghost muttered.

Soap opened one eye, a smirk playing at his lips. "Jealous?"

Ghost snorted, turning his attention back to his book, though his thoughts were elsewhere. There was something about the way Soap and Gaz instinctively sought each other out, the quiet intimacy in their movements, that stirred something in Ghost. He didn’t usually think about these things. Comfort wasn’t something that came easily to him.

Yet, sitting here in the quiet, watching the two of them drift off together, Ghost felt that old ache of longing tug at him.

Time slipped by in the quiet room. Soap and Gaz had fallen asleep, their breathing soft and steady, filling the space with a peace Ghost rarely felt. He was beginning to think about heading to bed himself when the door creaked open one final time.

Price stepped in, his presence like a wave of calm settling over the room. His eyes swept the space, taking in Ghost, then Soap and Gaz, curled up together on the couch. A small, barely-there smile tugged at the corner of his lips before he moved further inside.

Ghost tilted his head slightly, meeting Price’s eyes. "Couldn’t sleep?"

“Never can, after ops like that.” Price’s gaze shifted back to Soap and Gaz, something soft in his expression. “They look comfortable enough.”

Ghost nodded, though his attention was still on Price. He knew this look—knew what it meant. Price had a way of cutting through Ghost’s defences without ever saying much. He was the one person who could see through the walls Ghost built around himself.

"You need rest, Simon," Price said softly, his tone more personal than commanding.

Ghost shook his head. “Not yet.”

Price studied him for a moment longer before sitting down beside him on the arm of the chair. The movement was casual, but the closeness was not. Their arms brushed, and Ghost felt the familiar warmth of Price’s presence settle beside him. He didn’t pull away. Not this time.

Price didn’t speak, didn’t push. Instead, he reached into his jacket and pulled out his phone. Ghost watched as he angled it towards the couch, snapping a quick picture of Soap and Gaz, bundled together like they had the whole world figured out.

When Price looked at the photo, his expression softened even further. "For the collection," he murmured.

"The collection?" Ghost asked, curiosity piqued.

Price slipped the phone back into his pocket. "I’ve got a few of these stashed away. Reminds me why we fight—what’s worth protecting."

Ghost didn’t respond, but something inside him warmed at the words. Price always had that way of grounding them, of making everything feel... lighter. Easier.

Price leant back slightly, his knee brushing against Ghost’s leg as he shifted. It wasn’t much, just a subtle touch, but Ghost felt it all the same. He wasn’t used to this—wasn’t used to letting someone in. But with Price, it felt... different. It always had.

"You did well today, Simon," Price said softly, his voice low, the words meant only for Ghost.

Ghost’s breath caught, the praise catching him off guard. It wasn’t the first time Price had said it, but tonight, it carried more weight. More meaning. Ghost turned his head slightly, catching Price’s eyes in the dim light.

"So did you," Ghost replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The room was filled with the soft, rhythmic breathing of the others, and Ghost felt the tension in his shoulders slowly ebb away. Price’s hand moved, resting gently on Ghost’s arm, a small, grounding touch that sent a shiver down Ghost’s spine. He didn’t pull away.

"You don’t always have to carry the weight alone," Price said quietly, his hand giving a reassuring squeeze. “You’ve got me.”

Ghost’s throat tightened at the words, something fragile breaking free inside him. Price had always been there, a constant presence in his life, but hearing it said so plainly, so intimately, was something else entirely.

"I know," Ghost whispered, his voice rougher than he intended. He moved his arm down to interlace his fingers with Price's, the motion slow, almost tentative—like he wasn’t sure if this was something he was allowed to do. But when their hands connected, Price’s grip tightened gently in response, and a breath Ghost hadn’t realised he’d been holding slipped out in a quiet exhale.

It wasn’t just the touch; it was the quiet certainty of it. Ghost had spent so long keeping himself walled off, but with Price, it felt different—easier, somehow. He didn’t need to pretend, didn’t need to carry the weight of it all on his own.

Price didn’t say anything for a long while, the silence between them thick with unspoken understanding. Their hands remained intertwined, the soft warmth of Price’s skin grounding Ghost in a way that words couldn’t.

"You don’t have to be the strong one all the time," Price murmured, his thumb brushing softly across the back of Ghost’s hand. The gesture was so subtle, so intimate, it made Ghost’s heart pound in a way that caught him off guard. "I’m here. Always."

Ghost glanced down at their joined hands, the way Price’s thumb moved in small, slow circles over his skin. He wasn’t used to this kind of touch—something so simple yet so filled with meaning. His entire life had been spent pushing people away, hiding behind layers of armour, both literal and figurative. But with Price... it felt different.

"I don’t know how," Ghost admitted quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. It wasn’t easy for him to admit vulnerability, but if he could say it to anyone, it was Price.

"You’re doing fine," Price replied softly, his voice like a steady anchor in the quiet room. His hand shifted, a gentle tug pulling Ghost closer. "You don’t have to figure it all out at once. Just... let yourself be."

Ghost swallowed hard, the lump in his throat tightening. He tilted his head slightly, letting his eyes meet Price’s in the low light. There was something in Price’s gaze—something deeper than comfort, deeper than friendship. It made Ghost feel exposed, in a way he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in a long time.

Price’s free hand came up, brushing lightly against Ghost’s forearm before trailing up to his shoulder, the touch deliberate but soft, giving Ghost time to pull away if he wanted. But Ghost didn’t move. He couldn’t. Something about the way Price was looking at him, the way his touch lingered just a moment longer than necessary, rooted him in place.

"I’m not going anywhere, Simon," Price said, his voice quiet but firm, like a promise.

Ghost’s breath hitched at the sound of his name, spoken so gently. He wasn’t used to hearing it like that—wasn’t used to hearing it at all, really. But coming from Price, it felt different. Safe. Like it was allowed to exist outside of the mask he wore for everyone else.

Without thinking, Ghost leant into the touch, his head lowering until his forehead brushed against Price’s shoulder. He felt the tension in his body begin to unravel, piece by piece, as Price’s hand slid up to cup the back of his neck, fingers threading gently through the short hair at the nape of his neck.

"It’s alright," Price murmured, his voice close, soothing. "You can let go."

For a long moment, Ghost stayed like that, his head resting against Price’s shoulder, their fingers still intertwined. He hadn’t realised how much he needed this—needed him. The room was silent except for the soft sound of Soap and Gaz’s breathing, but to Ghost, it felt like the world had narrowed down to this single moment. Just him and Price, here in the quiet.

"You’re not alone in this," Price continued softly, his thumb still tracing light patterns against Ghost’s neck. "You never have to be."

Ghost’s chest tightened at the words. He had spent so long keeping everyone at arm’s length, afraid of what it meant to rely on someone else. But here, with Price, it felt... different. Like maybe he didn’t have to keep pretending he didn’t need this. Need him.

"I don’t know what I’d do without you," Ghost whispered, the confession slipping out before he could stop it. His voice was rough, raw with the weight of everything he had held back for so long.

Price’s grip tightened, his hand a firm, reassuring presence against Ghost’s neck. "You won’t have to find out."

Ghost closed his eyes, letting those words sink in. He wasn’t used to feeling vulnerable like this—wasn’t used to feeling like someone had his back in more ways than one. But with Price, it felt safe. It felt right.

For a while, they stayed like that, the quiet between them filled with the warmth of their shared presence. Price’s hand remained on the back of Ghost’s neck, his touch steady and grounding, and Ghost didn’t pull away. He leant into it, letting himself be for once, without the weight of everything pressing down on him.

Eventually, Price shifted, pulling back just enough to look at Ghost, his eyes searching his face. Even behind the mask, Ghost could feel the intensity of his gaze, could feel the way Price was looking at him like he saw everything Ghost kept hidden from the world.

"Let me in, Simon," Price said softly, his voice barely a whisper.

Ghost’s breath caught, his heart pounding in his chest. He knew what Price meant. He had always known and maybe Ghost was ready to let someone past the walls he had built.

Slowly, Ghost reached up with his free hand, fingers trembling slightly as they brushed against the edge of his mask. He hesitated for a moment, his heart racing, before pulling it up, just enough to let Price see his face—the part of him he kept hidden from everyone else.

Price’s gaze softened, his eyes warm and full of something Ghost wasn’t sure he had words for. But it was there, in the way Price’s fingers gently brushed his cheek, in the way he looked at him like Ghost was something precious, something worth protecting.

"You’re safe with me," Price whispered, his voice filled with quiet certainty.

And Ghost, despite it all, believed him.

Their eyes met, and for a brief, heart-stopping moment, there was nothing between them but the quiet understanding of what they had been tiptoeing around for so long. Price’s hand rested on Ghost’s cheek, and the simple intimacy of that touch, of this moment, was enough to make Ghost feel like maybe, just maybe, he didn’t have to carry the weight of the world alone.

Slowly, cautiously, Ghost leant forward, his breath catching as their foreheads touched, the gesture soft but filled with meaning. Price didn’t pull away, didn’t flinch. He stayed right there, his hand still cradling Ghost’s face, his thumb brushing lightly against his skin in a way that made Ghost’s heart ache.

"You’re not alone, Simon," Price murmured again, the words a quiet promise.

Ghost closed his eyes, letting the warmth of Price’s touch, the safety of his presence, wash over him. And for the first time in what felt like forever, Ghost allowed himself to believe it.

#call of duty #cod #john price #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #ghostprice #q's 31 days of cod #soapgaz #q writes #priceghost #gazsoap

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askew-d · 10 months ago

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Can I ask your top 10 fav fics ever (from any fandom, if you don't mind)?

Also, just curious, is there a story behind your name "askew-d "?

hello, there! sorry for the long wait, i forgot to check my notifs :( i will do better next time. thank you for this question! i feel like i’ve waited ages for someone to ask me exactly that, lol. i could talk about well-written fanfics forever!! can i give you a hug? because this is wonderful, really.

let’s go for it! my range of fanfiction that i enjoy vary, but one thing remains: i will adore your fic, no matter the fandom, if it’s written with passion and if it contains good, poetic introspection. i love poetry. for me, if there’s melancholic tropes of any kind i’m into it. immortal character and reincarnation? give me now. supernatural elements or slice of life with doomed narrative? i’ll ignore sleep to read it. angst with happy ending? my endgame, for sure.

however, i also adore silly, comedic, cute pieces of domestic life or otherwise. i had a hard time choosing from my bookmarks for this, and i also reviewed some of my favorites, it was fun. before we continue, here are some of the tags that i don’t dive into for whatever reason: porn without plot (it personally just doesn’t interest me at all), non-con, gore, a/b/o dynamics, soulmates au. sorry if you were hoping for it! i’ll try classify them into an order of what i like most.

1. jellyfish, by mystery twin, for the haikyuu!! fandom — i read this when i was finishing high school and coincidentally the story talks about finishing high school! i have a personal attachment that makes me reread it every year. it’s some sort of tradition at this point. not to mention i love kagehina dearly.

2. teen project to change the world, by animeloverhomura, for the mo dao zu shi fandom — respectfully speaking, i would find this author and give them a big hug. their writing is spetacular! if you've never seen this one and you're into mdzs, know it's a story where the characters get to see every event from the novel and donghua, even the dead characters. they watch wei wuxian journey, can you believe it? so goddamn entertaining. promptly waiting for the next update!

3. a hundred or so hellos, by iwillstillopenthewindow, for the haikyuu!! fandom — remember i said i love melancholic stories? well, this one broke me so hard, i had to mention how i hold it with tenderness (we love things that breaks us, dont we?). this fandom manages to write the cutest, most unhinged things sometimes. even it's an anime about sports. i always get amazed by it.

4. no certainty of doors between us, by betts, for the mo dao zu shi fandom — certainly the most silly little fanfic i've ever seen, it's hilariously sweet. i want everyone to read this masterpiece because, seriously, whoever did this deserves only the best. so, so, cute. it had to be in my top 10!

5. their kindred encounters, by fireflavoredwhiskey, for the untamed rpf fandom (bjyx) — you know those kinds of shows, books, any piece of media, that tears up apart? well, this one was it for me. it's a very famous one that deserves all praise, certainly well-written and enjoyable to the core, with doses of angst, romance and beauty overall.

6. as the clouds part and clear, we finally meet again, by 12262325, for the mo dao zu shi fandom — aaaaa, i was truly torn between putting this in the third or fourth place, but i ended up putting it here. come on, i love an age difference kind of story, especially for wangxian, and this one was perfectly done. sweet and funny. the development? the yearning?? outstanding!! i read this many times already, i'll never get tired.

7. pursuit, by emleewrites, for the haikyuu!! fandom — mystery, romance, lawsuits, poker games, adventure, slice of life, AMAZING depictions and so, so goddamn well-written? that's what you're looking for in any fanfiction. the author dedicated herself entirely for this story, and, like i said, i love stories that are written with passion, you can see it pouring through every paragraph. besides, highly entertaining. i'm not very into long fics, but once i started it off, i couldn't stop. that's how addicting it is.

8. linger by the door (i’ve always been yours), by piecrust, for the mo dao zu shi fandom — epistolary?? have i mentioned how i love it?? some of the phrases in this are gold, in my bookmarks you can check some of them (i ought to make a list of my favorite fic quotes, btw, i will sure do it). through each letter i could comprehend more of wei wuxian's feelings and his internal conflict. i love feeling this connected to a character.

9. all the world is ours to take, by khrys, for the fugou keiji fandom — i have more than one favorite fanfiction for this couple. you know these kinds of developing relationship where the transition from (maybe enemies too) friends to lovers happens so smoothly that it feels like they've been soulmates first and foremost at the end? i don't even know how to explain. i just love how, when they finally are together, it's like they've been together for years. and they just... made it official? i like it. i love my mr. kambe haru.

10. he won’t tell you that he loves you, by hellshandbasket, for the house m.d fandom — i found this to be the most fitting, perfect story for this specific couple. they deserved more stories like this, but we dont see it anymore. i would hightlight the feelings realization in this one, that is so fucking real? haha in any case, it's a fanfic that i enjoyed a great deal.

that's it, i guess! i wanted to add link click fanfics also, however i barely started reading fanfictions from its fandom, i'm drowning in it lately but it's just a start. perhaps very sooon!

oh, i’m gonna finish explaining about the name! in my native language, i’ve heard someone tell me before that ‘life’s a little askew, nothing’s ever perfect’, and that quote remained in every biography of any english website i ever went to. then in literature class someday i had to write about historical women and came across this one named anne askew (i wanted to write about the mostly barely-spoken women). it was the second time i saw this word. i didn’t think of it as a proper name before, but then i had to create a nickname for my ao3 profile and thought, humn, why not just ‘askew’? the quote has been engraved in my heart anyway, so i went for it. we’re all flawed and askew. so, yeah, it just… fit? the ‘d’ here on tumblr it’s only because my surname has a ‘de morais’ in it. i also liked that it resembled ‘alaska’, the john green character i was kinda of obsessed with back in my teenager grunge phase. i don’t like these kinds of books anymore, but i guess some details stay with you. do you think it’s weird? never thought of changing.

thanks for this outstanding ask, it certainly entertained me. and hope you have a nice sleep today, big hugs coming your way! 🤍

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goddessofroyalty · 11 months ago

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Fandom: One Piece

I wanted to play around with Luffy’s relationship with ZoSan in omegaverse and kept coming back to this idea of him being really invested in them bonding because it means people know they are taken and nobody could take either of them away. This is basically that.

Pairings: Zoro/Sanji, (you can also definitively read Zoro/Sanji/Luffy into this but Luffy's relationship to them can also be read platonically)

Tags: omegaverse

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

Their captain apparently has an uncanny ability to know the exact moment they formalized their mate bond.

Maybe it’s a result of that sense of smell of his that is far sharper than any beta’s should be. Or perhaps it’s just part of the seemingly unconscious awareness he has of when exactly his crew need him. But they have only just settled in the afterglow of proper mated sex, pressed against each other with a dull ache of a fresh bite on their necks and the warmth of heat still under Sanji’s skin when knuckles knock against the door in a hurried song.

“Are you guys done? Let me in!” Luffy calls from the other side.

Zoro shares a look with Sanji. It’s pointless trying to deter him they both know.

Sanji roots around to reach for where he left his cigarettes by the makeshift nest as Zoro gets up to let their captain in. Slipping on pants on his way like modesty is something they might care about now.

Luffy practically launches himself over to Sanji once the door is open. Wrapping stretchy limbs all around him as he twists Sanji’s head to the side to give him a better a better look at the fresh bite on the gland on Sanji’s neck. One they hadn’t even known they were planning to do until they were in the moment and the weight of everything suddenly hit them and made them finally realize they had been dragging it out for no good reason.

“Oh, wow,” Luffy says, prodding against the tender flesh. “You can see each of Zoro’s teeth.”

Zoro grunts at it, pacing along the borders of the room moving stuff around. If asked he’d likely claim he’s looking for something to drink but from where Sanji’s sitting it looks more like an alpha marking the border of their mate’s nest.

Sanji should probably be annoyed at the implication that he needs to be protected, or worse, guarded over like some stolen treasure.

He’s not because it’s not. They trust in each other’s strengths but watch each other’s backs.

Luffy demands Sanji’s attention back onto him by nuzzling against Sanji’s neck as if he’s trying to rub his beta scent over that of an alpha’s fresh mating. If anyone could it would be Luffy.

Zoro watches it with more patience than could expect of an alpha as someone else paws over their mate. Especially when said mate is still in the middle of a heat and the bite is so fresh. Even if the person in question is his pack head. Zoro’s trust and loyalty in his captain stronger than instinct.

“Everyone will know you’re Zoro’s now,” Luffy chatters happily as he continues to examine the bite like it’s more interesting than just teeth and flesh. “They can’t take you from us now.”

Sanji swallows his guilt at the words. Tries not to think of how comforted what is a rather possessive declaration from their captain makes him.

“How will they know they can’t take Zoro though?” Luffy asks. Twisting his head to look over at where Zoro is pacing.

“He has a bite too,” Sanji assures their captain. There was no way he was going to let this be a one-way claim.

“Really!? Let me see!” Luffy stretches out an arm to tug Zoro over to sit next to them on the nest. Untangling himself from Sanji only so much so he can press and twist Zoro to better see the bit on his neck as well.

Zoro glares weakly at them both for it. But he lets Luffy do as he pleases.

“Oh! Zoro’s bite is deeper than Sanji’s!” Luffy says with a laugh.

“What!?” Sanji says the same time as his new mate.

Luffy grabs hold of Sanji’s head to twist it so he can see his neck and bite better. Eyes darting between the two bites.

“Yeah. It’s definitively deeper. Sanji really didn’t want anyone taking Zoro,” Luffy confirms with a laugh.

Sanji hadn’t thought he had bitten down any harder than Zoro had him. He had only been returning what he had been given.”

“Hey captain,” Zoro says, his gaze locked on Sanji, eyes darkening by the moment. “Can you leave us for a bit?”

“Huh?” Luffy asks, his nostrils suddenly flaring. “Oh, you need to bite him some more now?”

“Something like that,” Zoro agrees. And Snaji is very glad he’s still wrapped up in the nest, because he doesn’t want Luffy knowing how much of an effect that tone in Zoro’s voice has on him.

“Right,” Luffy says with a nod. Detangling where he has his limbs wrapped around the two of them so he can leave.

“Have fun,” he says before slipping out of the room but Sanji isn’t really paying attention to him anymore. Much more focused on how Zoro is climbing on top of him, alpha-scent thick in the air.

“Don’t want anyone else taking me?” Zoro asks, all teeth.

“Shut up,” Sanji says, pulling him closer for a kiss.

#One Piece #ZoSan #ZoSanlu #roronoa zoro #zoro x sanji #vinsmoke sanji #monkey d. luffy #blackleg sanji #Omegaverse #One Piece omegaverse #black leg sanji #I accidently a ficlet

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untoldreader · 11 months ago

Text

A Fateful Encounter

Summary

The reader's path crosses with Maria Hill's in an unexpected twist of fate, setting the stage for a deep connection to form

Warnings

None

Tag List

@alexawynters

The bustling streets of New York City pulsed with energy as I made my way through the crowd, my heart and mind consumed by the daily grind. It was just another ordinary day, or so I thought. Little did I know that destiny had a different plan in store for me.

Lost in my thoughts, I absentmindedly looked up and our eyes met. There she was, Maria Hill, a formidable presence with her piercing blue eyes and confident aura. In that instant, something shifted within me. It was as if time stood still, and the world around us faded into the background. It was a connection that seemed to transcend mere coincidence.

I stumbled, caught off guard by the intensity of the moment. "I'm sorry," I managed to utter, my voice barely a whisper in the bustling city sounds.

Maria's stern expression softened, and a faint smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "No need to apologize," she replied, her voice carrying a warmth I hadn't expected.

As she walked away, the memory of her gaze lingered, stirring something deep within my heart. It was a feeling I couldn't shake—the sense that this encounter held a profound significance, that I had just crossed paths with someone who would change the course of my life.

Days turned into weeks, and I found myself yearning for another glimpse of Maria. I caught myself daydreaming, imagining what it would be like to be in her presence once more, to explore the depths of our connection. And fate, it seemed, had plans to bring us together again.

One evening, a message arrived, shrouded in secrecy, with the sender's identity concealed. "Meet me at the coordinates below. Trust your heart," it read.

Intrigued and filled with a mixture of anticipation and nervous excitement, I couldn't resist the pull of the unknown. I followed the coordinates to a secluded spot, where Maria awaited me, a glimmer of anticipation in her eyes.

"You came," she said softly, a hint of surprise in her voice.

I nodded, unable to contain the emotions swirling within me. "There was something about you," I confessed, my voice trembling with honesty. "Something that drew me in from the very beginning."

A smile played upon Maria's lips, a subtle acknowledgment of the undeniable connection we shared. "I felt it too," she replied, her voice filled with a tenderness I hadn't seen before. "There's a love that defies explanation, a devotion that binds us together. Are you willing to explore what it means?"

In that moment, I knew that there was no turning back. The love between us had ignited, a flame that burned with an intensity I had never experienced before. With unwavering resolve, I met her gaze and whispered, "Yes, Maria. I'm ready to dive into the depths of this love, to embrace the devotion that binds us."

And so, with that heartfelt affirmation, our journey began. Little did we know the challenges that awaited us, the tests our love would face, and the strength of devotion that would be required to overcome them.

As days turned into weeks, Maria and I found ourselves inseparable. We explored the city together, hand in hand, discovering hidden gems and sharing our deepest thoughts and dreams. With each passing day, our love grew stronger, expanding like tendrils intertwining our hearts.

Maria's presence in my life brought a sense of stability and purpose that I had never known before. She was my rock, my confidante, and my partner in every sense of the word. We faced the world together, supporting each other through the highs and lows, and celebrating every triumph as a team.

But amidst our joy, shadows loomed on the horizon. Maria's work with S.H.I.E.L.D. demanded her unwavering commitment and often placed her in dangerous situations. Our love was tested as we navigated the complexities of her duty and the sacrifices it required.

There were nights when I lay awake, my heart heavy with worry, waiting for Maria to return safely from her missions. Each time she walked through the door, unharmed but wearied by the weight of her responsibilities, I held her tightly, cherishing every moment as if it were our last.

But even in the face of adversity, our devotion remained steadfast. We chose to embrace the love that bound us, to find solace in each other's arms and draw strength from our connection. It was a love that defied logic, that defied the odds stacked against us.

As the months turned into years, Maria and I built a life together—a life filled with love, laughter, and shared dreams. We supported each other's ambitions, pushing each other to reach new heights. Our devotion was not just romantic; it was a commitment to nurturing the growth and happiness of the other.

Yet, with every passing day, the world continued to change. New challenges arose, threatening the delicate balance we had created. Forces beyond ourcontrol tested our devotion, pushing us to our limits.

One such challenge came when Maria received a top-secret assignment that would take her away for an extended period. It was a mission of utmost importance, one that required her expertise and unwavering dedication. As she shared the news with me, her eyes were filled with a mix of determination and sadness.

"I don't want to leave you," Maria whispered, her voice choked with emotion. "But this is something I have to do. It's my duty."

Tears welled up in my eyes as I fought to hold them back. I understood the weight of her responsibility, but it didn't make the impending separation any easier to bear. "I'll be waiting for you," I replied, my voice filled with a conviction born out of our love. "No matter how long it takes, my heart is yours, and I'll be here when you return."

With a heavy heart, I watched Maria depart, knowing that our love would be tested in ways we couldn't yet comprehend. Time stretched on, and the days turned into weeks, then months. The ache of her absence was a constant companion, a reminder of the love we shared and the sacrifices we made.

During those long months apart, we relied on letters and occasional encrypted messages to bridge the physical distance between us. Each word penned on paper carried the weight of our devotion, the longing we felt, and the unwavering commitment to each other.

In those letters, we poured our hearts out—sharing our triumphs, our fears, and our hopes for the future. We supported each other from afar, offering words of encouragement and love that transcended the limitations of distance. Despite the challenges we faced, our connection remained unbreakable.

Finally, the day arrived when Maria's mission was complete, and she returned to my waiting arms. The joy that flooded my heart was indescribable as we embraced, the weight of our separation melting away in that single moment of reunion. We had weathered the storm, and our devotion had emerged stronger than ever.

But the challenges didn't end there. Life continued to test us, throwing unexpected obstacles in our path. Yet, with each trial, we leaned on the foundation of our love and commitment, strengthening our bond and reaffirming our devotion.

Together, we navigated the complexities of life—supporting each other through career changes, personal losses, and the ever-changing landscape of the world. Our love was a beacon of light in the darkest of times, guiding us through the storms and reminding us of the unwavering connection we shared.

As the years passed, Maria and I built a life filled with cherished memories and shared experiences. We celebrated milestones, big and small, with hearts brimming with gratitude for the love we had found in each other.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

And so, our love story continues—a testament to the power of devotion and the resilience of the human spirit. Our journey is not without its challenges, but we face them together, bound by a love that knows no bounds.

For in the end, it is the devotion between us that sustains and nourishes our love, a flame that burns bright against all odds. Together, we embrace the unknown, knowing that as long as we have each other, love will always prevail.

Are we liking this?

#maria hill x reader #maria hill #marvel #Relentless Devotion

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ivy-loves-chocolate · 2 years ago

Note

I saw you were asking for suggestions, and I have several ideas for Krauser, but here’s a few.

He gets injured (fluff,a bit of angst)

You find him, after he gets infected (angst)

And you and him taking a vacation. (Fluff, could double as nsfw)

Do with these as you want, love your writing <3

I like all of them! Will write them in order and tag you on the rest 💖 I hope you’ll like this one! ☺️

Krauser gets injured, and you help him:

"You need to be careful." You said as your fingers traced the scars on his face. Blue eyes were looking at your face, showing admiration and worrying at the same time.

"I'm fine, it was just a superficial wound." He tried to assure you, hiding the fact that he got scared too.

Krauser was a tough guy, no doubt, but even he needed support from time to time, even if he denied it. That was the case during one mission, where he was shot in the arm.

Yes, this time it's just a superficial wound, but you don't know next time. What if they get you..."

Being the careful partner you were, you took him to a safe place to treat his wound. Luckily, the bullet just scratched him.

He watched in silence as you wrapped a bandage over his bicep. He didn't stop you because he knew it was useless. The thing is, he doesn't like it when you take care of him, not because the attention bothers him, but because he feels weak and useless. He thinks that he should be the one to protect you during missions, even if you are more than capable of doing it yourself. You tried telling him that he doesn't have to do everything in the field, but that was Krauser. He was willing to work hard for both of you so you wouldn't have to worry about a damn thing, both during missions and in your personal life.

After healing him, you two were caught in an intimate moment, in which Krauser pulled you close in his embrace and you glued yourself to his body instantly. His arm wrapped around your waist, holding you tight, and you caressed his face. As you were running your thumbs over his scars, you began to remember their story, how he got them, giving you more reasons to worry about him.

"I'm a big guy, I can handle myself." He said it as if he had read your thoughts.

"I know, it's just, I don't understand why you have to be so stubborn sometimes."

"I'm not stubborn if I'm trying to protect you."

"Oh my God, you are so...."

"Annoying?" he said with a smirk.

"Yes."

Another pause followed, in which you kept caressing his beautiful, beaten face, ignoring his "tough guy" act.

"Look what they did to you."

"Some ice, and I will be good as new."

"You're incredible..." you scoffed. Even if you were mad at him, your worry was more visible on your face.

"C'mon, doll, don't look at me with those eyes."

"What eyes?"

He didn't reply, instead, he leaned forward to kiss you. He didn't have the energy to argue anymore, he just wanted to feel you. His gesture took you by surprise, as he never did that before during a mission, but you couldn't complain either because you enjoyed feeling his warm and soft lips over yours.

"Be careful, please..." you said between soft and tender kisses.

A little make-out session quickly put him in a better mood.

"No matter how stubborn I am, you still look out for me." He said it in an admiring tone as you went to regroup with the rest.

Someone's gotta watch over you too." You were happy that he finally confessed. "Wait."

You ran your fingers through his blond hair, pulling back some rebellious strands of hair that fell down his face.

"You're good to go now."

He pulled you by your waist again, placing a quick kiss on your cheek, and then you focused on finishing the mission.

#resident evil #resident evil 4 #resident evil 4 remake #jack krauser #krauser #krauser x reader #krauser x f!reader #fluff #ask

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aziraphales-library · 1 year ago

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Lost Fic #157

1. Hello, first of all thank you for all your hard work 🫶 really appreciate! I'm looking for a fic i read about a year ago: unfortunately i can't remember much, so i apologise if it's a vague description. I also think i might be mixing some facts with this fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/39533883 so i’m sorry if i’m making it hard to find. Trigger warning from here on (depression, su! c!de): the fic was set in the crowley's flat and the characters were canon (im pretty sure it was set a short time after S1's canon events, but somehow C still had holy water). Crowley had just suffered some sort of physical and emotional trauma (r@pe? sorry, i can't quite remember) and couldn't trust neither Aziraphale nor himself. He fell in a state of depression and couldn't see any other way out but use the holy water in his safe. (Spoilers) | remember a scene where he weakly walked to the safe and wrote a note, then tried to reach the thermos but was stopped last second by Aziraphale. Thank you in advance🫶; and if you manage to find it, congrats😅 - anon

2. Helloo I hope it's not too hard to find but I lost a fic on ao3 a bit ago I didn't finish reading and was hoping someone recognise it, it starts off with post apoca-nope Crowley being confronted by demons in his flat who tell him to stay away from aziraphale and summon a screen through which to view him. buuut since there was no audio they all missed a conversation between aziraphale and god in which god gives him a golden string (I think) and explains that metatron has been giving orders independently from god, then asks aziraphale to go to heaven and stirr up trouble. And that's when I accidentally closed the Tumblr app and lost it :( - anon

3. so theres this fic i was reading where its post canon but basically crozira gets locked up in heaven and crowley does his snake thing and releases them both (was in the beginning ish) but thats all i remember 😭😭 im sorry if this is too much to ask for, thank you in advance!!! - @stars-v3ria

4. Hello! I hope y'all are doing all right in what I imagine is a swamp of new asks from season 2's approach. (Writing this in the final few weeks til release.) I'm writing in search of a lost fic--I've scrounged through the Aziraphale's True Form tag but come up empty. It was T, M, or E rated, and more or less a true form sex fic, but may or may not have included genital sex. The part I remember (which I think was the focus of the story, it being a oneshot) was framed as a divinity/grace kink scene in which Aziraphale revealed his true form to Crowley. It was overwhelming to him (verging on pain iirc), but also very beautiful, intense, and possibly sensual or sexual. The part I really remember, though, came at the end-- Crowley, crying, used their safeword, which was "Amen." And after that I think it was more on the tender side. Would you happen to have encountered such a story? Thank you very much for your time, and potentially that of your followers-- I very much appreciate all the work you do for the fandom. <3 P.S. In case this reaches the author, and you with to remain anonymous, please know that the fic really stuck with me and I was merely searching for it in hopes of leaving a comment to that effect. <3 - @elderly-worm

5. Hello! I was recently told about the (cursed) movie script and was told that there is a fanfiction of Book and Show Crowley saving movie Aziraphale from movie Crowley. The person said they're sure they read it on ao3 but cannot find it now and I'm extremely curious. Any help would be very appreciated and thank you so much for the library you're doing here, helped me to find a lot of gems. - anon

If you know any of these fics please include the number in your reply! Thank you :)

- Mod D

#good omens #lost fic #ineffable husbands #mod d

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crispyjenkins · 11 months ago

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savage price of piety "crispy has lost control of their life again" celebration sneak peek

okay here's one from one of my favorite things i've ever written, which isn't actually posted yet, but everything for it so far is tagged with #savage price and is linked on my fic masterlist, which is my pinned post! (mostly gen but with a surprise rarepair, time travel/reincarnation, found family, william miles’ a+ parenting, accidental subterfuge, desmond goes by miles mostly, inspired by study of flight by @esamastation but with a twist!, only somewhat historically accurate swears)

But it’s Ezio that broaches the subject, Leonardo having had to return to his studio so as not to upset said city’s patrons,

“Were you raised in Castello Tarazed?”

... What.

Desmond stares at him in bemusement, wondering how the fuck he knew anything about that, and also why that’s the first thing he’s asking him. Isn’t he curious about Desmond’s father? Don’t he and Leonardo already have a theory on his relation to the Auditore?

Ezio doesn’t elaborate, crossing his arms as he leans against the support of the rooftop loggia Desmond had been taking a break in, rough-spun sheeting pulled aside to let the sunlight in. Back-lit as he is, Ezio’s expression is even harder to see with the hood, though Desmond isn’t sure he’d have been able to actually read it even if he could.

After another minute of blinking at each other, Desmond slowly asks, “What?” and no, he isn’t thrilled when it gets a fond little uptick of Ezio’s mouth, pulling at their shared scar.

“Castello Tarazed,” he repeats, with a nod upriver towards the area of Rome it’s in, the rione that’s been known as Borga for... a very long time. It was even still called that in the 21st century, if Desmond is remembering one of Shaun’s rambling info-dumps right.

They can almost see it from the Island, situated right at the bend of the Tiber that stretches between the Vatican and the Castel Sant’Angelo, and though they can see said castel from where they are right now, they are too far away to pick Desmond’s old home out from the skyline.

Desmond licks his dry lips and glances away, before forcing himself to look back. “It’s been abandoned for years,” is what he says, though he isn’t sure why. His time in the Castel Sant’Angelo wasn’t great, he’ll admit, but the years before that with a man that raised his sons like Bill Miles did...

When he’s thought about revealing everything to the remaining Auditore, of explaining his life in the future, he’d never once considered telling them about this.

Standing over him, Ezio hums thoughtfully and unpins Desmond from his gaze, surely aware of his discomfort. “Eight years, yes. Locals say it’s haunted.”

Suddenly Desmond can’t feel his fingers. His right arm. The back of his head where it used to be cradled by the Animus.

“The tenders of the nearby Frisian Schola who were around that long ago claim everyone on the grounds of Tarazed was killed in a single night, but someone powerful covered it all up to avoid the scandal, and then never sold or gave the property away.”

Why is he asking this, why is he phrasing it like this, why doesn’t he just accuse Desmond like everyone else—?

#crispy writes #savage price #absolutely do NOT think about the timeline i beg you #i am Gay and Tired #title from poor isaac by the airborne toxic event #which was my second most-listened-to song last year #anyway i'm trying to commit to finsihing long fic before i start uploading them which is why i haven't posted this one yet #even though i'd tie myself to a train track to talk about it #not star wars #yoinking some tags from the last posts:#this whole fic is based on the trope of time travel des not knowing how to lie for shit and people making assumptions (à la study of flight #except their assumptions turn out to be mostly right #des isn't ezio's kid tho 👀

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blue--ingenue · 8 months ago

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One Fell First, And One Fell Harder [Ch.2]

Author's Note: i think this is the fastest i've ever cranked out a chapter. forewarning: Albus is an incredibly unreliable narrator! boy is so plagued by doubt and so afraid of giving himself hope that he completely misses that the pining is mutual. anyway, happy reading, and as always, let me know if you'd like to be added to the tag list! :)

“Rose Granger-Weasley!” Scorpius crowed. “I just asked Rose Granger-Weasley to be my friend!”

Albus couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled from his chest. “And she said no!” he laughed, gripping the banister for support. Scorpius furrowed his brows. “I asked her. I planted the acorn! An acorn that will grow into our eventual allegiance.”

Albus sobered instantly. The conversation was amusing when they were talking about Rose rejecting his advances. He didn’t much care for the part where Scorpius daydreamed of a future with the object of his affections. Someone who wasn’t Albus. A tendril of jealousy pushed an exasperated huff from his chest and he rolled his eyes. He closed the remaining steps between them. Not for the first time he was reminded of the six inches of height Scorpius had on him. He hoped Scorpius wouldn’t notice how flushed he had become.

“But Rose…hates you,” he tried to reason. He didn’t want to hurt Scorpius’ feelings, but neither could he endure another moment of this conversation. And what kind of friend would he be if he allowed Scorpius to get his hopes up? He pulled at the hem of his robes, a nervous habit he’d carried since first year.

“Correction!” Scorpius reprimanded. He was standing just a step beneath Albus, and as he playfully stooped the subsequent breeze ruffled his hair. “She used to hate me.”

They were nearly nose-to-nose. Scorpius’ pupils were dilated, eyes dark despite the gentle upturn of his lips. A circlet of gold surrounded them and briefly Albus was gazing into the eclipse they witnessed together a year ago. A lifetime ago. The sun had been shrouded by the moon’s silhouette, a gilded darkness. Then and now Albus was bewitched.

Albus met his tender gaze and felt the tendril dissipate from the warmth of his smile. They were but a breath apart now. A stubborn lock of platinum hair brushed Scorpius’ cheek and in a split-second Albus wondered how soft it would feel if he reached out. If he gently tucked the strand back into place and confessed even half the things he kept hidden away. Albus could spend hours listing all the beautiful, wonderful things he loved about Scorpius.

And then that second passed, and Albus remembered his place. He was Scorpius’ best friend, and they were talking about his feelings for his cousin. Albus ducked his head to hide his blush and nervously wrung his hands in his lap.

“Did you see the look in her eyes?” the oblivious boy continued. “That wasn’t contempt…” he pressed closer. “That was pity!”

Scorpius was close. Too close, and yet somehow out of reach. A bitter taste filled Albus’ mouth, “And pity’s a good thing?” he bit out.

He didn’t want to talk about Rose anymore. Most of the time he could pretend that the idea of a relationship didn’t cross his mind. He could make-believe that Scorpius didn’t want a boyfriend, or a girlfriend, and that they could remain content with just each other. Scorpius was practically waxing poetic. “Pity is a start! A foundation upon which to build a palace. A palace of harmony.”

The jealous tendril lashed out, gripped his heart and twisted. Albus surged forward and placed his hands on Scorpius’ shoulders. He held him there, held his gaze. The words burned his tongue as he forced them out. “And that’s who you’d want? In your palace?” Say ‘no.’ Say my name. He willed the thought. It felt like casting a non-verbal and he willed all his hope into the inches between them. He’d never been good at those.

“Yes.” Scorpius’ expression remained unchanged. The Black Lake undisturbed by ripples, reflecting the truth of his unrequited feelings right back into his face. “Isn’t it?”

He felt himself at the bottom of the ocean, an anchor of despair hitting the murky floor and burying itself in deadened silt. Immovable. Final. He couldn’t-

“Hi!” Rose chimed. He bolted up, picking up all the messy, gnarled feelings and shoving them into a closet for later. A primal part of him thought, mine, and he held Scorpius’ shoulders as he stood. He glared at her over tufts of platinum blond. She smiled at them. Scorpius was undoubtedly smiling back. She glanced pointedly between the two boys expectantly. Albus didn’t know what on earth she was expecting, but he wished she’d just find it and shove off.

The tension thickened by the second. He let his hands slip from Scorpius’ warm shoulders and wiped his sweaty palms on his cloak. It felt like they were standing in a burning house, casually inhaling the blackened smoke. Rose was the first to break the silence. “You know, this is only going to be weird if you two let it be weird.”

She explained slowly, as if she were talking to children, and Albus’ temper flared. Scorpius craned his neck to look up at Albus, as if he were waiting for him to answer for the both of them. What the shit was happening? Albus felt so confused he momentarily forgot about the anger boiling just beneath his skin. The two seemed to be having their own silent conversation, some sort of unspoken agreement that Albus wasn’t privy to, and yet was expected to answer for. How long had Rose been standing there? Did she suspect? Would she figure it out and tell Scorpius? Two sets of eyes blinked up at him and he panicked, pretending to wave to someone at the Gryffindor portrait entrance. Despite the fact that the rest of the corridor was empty, and the portrait door was shut. Good god.

He pretended not to notice and committed to looking the other way until a hole opened up in the ground and swallowed him. The universe might’ve been merciless, but Scorpius was not. “Received, and entirely understood,” he chirped. He heard Rose’s heels tapping against the tile and thought she had left until- “You good, Albus?”

She was concerned about him? He turned slightly, suddenly remembering how close he was to Scorpius. His cloak whipped about at the motion and a wave of Scorpius’ shampoo crested his senses. Honeysuckle.

“Mmmhmm,” he croaked. Smooth, he cringed internally. She seemed to take pity on him, or had seemed his squeak sufficient, and turned on her heel. She disappeared down the Gryffindor Tower stairwell and they once again left in silence. Albus felt worn out, deflated. “Maybe you’re right. Pity is a start.”

Scorpius seemed to bounce back immediately, impervious to the awkwardness. “Are you headed to quidditch later? Slytherin are playing Hufflebpuff! And it’s gonna be a big one, and-”

“I thought we hated quidditch?” He interrupted. Was this just another change he’d been too self-absorbed to notice? Or maybe he was just going to watch Rose play. Of course he would. Scorpius’ voice cut clean through his thoughts. “People can change,” he countered.

Albus stilled. He looked, really looked, at the boy before him. There was a determined set to his shoulders and an intensity in his gaze that only appeared when his courage was being tested. The air between them was charged. With what, he didn’t know. A golden thread of something - hope - dangled between them, tangled among words unsaid. “Besides, I’ve been practicing,” Scorpius continued. “I think I might make the team, eventually. Come on,” he grinned and spun on his heel. Albus rushed forward. “I can’t.” It pained him to say, “My dad’s arranged to come up.”

Scorpius was perplexed. “He’s taking time away from the ministry?” Albus hung onto the banister, for once towering a head above Scorpius. “He has something to show me. Or, share with me. We’re going for a walk,” he elaborated. “I think it’s a bonding thing.” They looked at each other for a beat. Then they cracked at the same time.

They mimed vomiting and groaning, the notion so foreign it felt like the time James had tricked him into eating a whole box of his Uncle Ron’s Puking Pastilles. The exaggerations faded into laughter, and Albus felt lighter than he had in days. He gasped, “Still, though, I think I’ll go-” his breath left in a huff as he collided with something warm. It took a moment for his brain to register that he wasn’t daydreaming. Honeysuckle. Scorpius was hugging him. Clinging to him like a koala, his head turned and tucked against his chest. Albus went rigid. He hesitated. Could he let himself have this? In the end it didn’t matter what he thought. His arms wrapped around Scorpius of their own accord, and he held him just as fiercely. It felt so right. He loved Scorpius. It was a golden, honeyed happiness that spread from his chest all the way outward, one that reverberated and echoed back like church bells. He closed his eyes. Just for a moment, he let himself slip into his favorite delusion. That Scorpius loved him just the same, in all the same ways. He ripped himself away before it could settle too deeply.

He sputtered. “What’s this I thought we didn’t hug?” Scorpius shifted nervously, but when he looked up that same determined look was back. “I wasn’t sure whether we should. In this new version of us.” Albus heard the words, but it was that hopeful, pleading look in his eyes that gave him pause. It was the same look he caught in the mirror, after he’d finished crying in the lavatory. When he felt so frustrated and lovesick he could feel the pain like a lead weight lodged in his chest. That hopeful golden thread was back, dangling at the periphery of their conversation. Just between Scorpius’ words and the truth Albus so desperately wished was waiting. Hope. A chance. That’s all he needed. He grinned.

“I’ll see you at dinner.”

Taglist: @hoomandoescosplay

#scorbus#fluff#angst#albus x scorpius#scorpius malfoy#albus potter#albus severus potter#scorpius hyperion malfoy#the cursed child#harry potter and the cursed child#hpcc

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jvkeslvr · 2 years ago

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welcome to my heart ; p.sh

established relationship, non-idol, ft. rest of ateez a little bit kissing + hugging, use of endearing nicknames & a bit of "i love yous"

wc: 698

send me an ask if you like to be in the future fics~

a/n: happy (late) birthday to my ult bias wrecker seonghwa. i hope you enjoy this as much as i was writing it. please let me know what you think of it, feedback is most appreciated <3

tags: @ateezlovenet

you heard footsteps approaching the dorm door, standing by with joy, you were being very giddy. turning the door, you were about to greet your boyfriend, but your face hit something hard. making the thing that you ran into, chuckle. it was yeosang. you groan.

"aw, y/n. you hurt my feelings," he laughs as he taunts you. "seonghwa hyung is on his way. he was just behind me," yeosang enters the dorm, keeping the door open for you. then you saw the familiar head of hair and face approaching you. so you quickly walk into the building, closing it. then the door swung open.

"happy birthday, seonghwa!" you squealed as you hugged your boyfriend tightly. he chuckles as he wraps his arms around your smaller frame, kissing the top of your head. your bodies sway side-by-side slowly.

"thank you, jagiya," separating from the hug, he bends down slightly to look at you. his gaze on your lips. as if reading his mind, you lean forward, connecting your lips together.

the kiss was sudden, catching seonghwa off-guard a bit. but he quickly reacts, resting his hands on each other side of your head, slightly pulling you closer. the kiss was soft, but tender. you could feel the love that this man has for you, as you do for him as well.

you both hear someone clear their throat. you both pull away, you look away sheeplishly, blushing hard, while seonghwa displays a small smirk. he then walks over to the couch, sitting in between mingi and san.

turning your head back over once you calmed down, patting your cheeks softly in an attempt to cool your cheeks, you looked over to the person who cleared their throat.

it was of course, hongjoong.

"finally," he groans as he rolls his eyes, causing everyone around to laugh. including you.

"oh joongie, i know you love me," you tease as you grab his cheeks and squeeze them. he rolls his eyes once again.

he stays quiet, as he knows you're right. you finally release him, hands immediately soothing circles on his cheeks from your ruthless hands. you walk over to the couch, sitting on the floor in front of your boyfriend.

"happy birthday, hyung!" mingi slaps seonghwa's shoulder, and an audible wince comes out of his mouth. mingi stops laughing once he sees the look in hwa's eyes, immediately getting up to bow slightly at the older man.

jongho was on his little corner of the couch, playing on his phone. he looks over between you and seonghwa and said, "happy birthday, hyung," not taking his eyes off his phone, he raises his hand, creating a fist.

hwa awkwardly fist-bumps the younger's fist, wondering what the heck just happened?

"happy birthday hyung!" wooyoung laughs-yelled from the kitchen. yunho and hongjoong (who walked over there once you sat down by seonghwa), wince at how loud he is.

"woo, take the cake out," hongjoong and you said at the same time. which in turns makes you laugh, hongjoong joins a second later.

wooyoung places the cake on the kitchen counter, yunho lights the candles that were already placed on top. yeosang goes to turn the lights off. now the only things being illumnationed are you, seonghwa and the others.

san is the first to sing happy birthday, the others soon follow. you locate your phone to record this special moment. being the two mischievous ones, san and wooyoung dipped each one of their fingers into the cake to swipe on seonghwa's cheek and forehead. they laugh as they high-five each other.

seonghwa groans but thinking quickly, you kiss the areas where the cake smears are, whispering "i love you" over and over again.

"hurry! hurry and blow out the candles," hongjoong placing a small, firm grip onto seonghwa's shoulder.

"make a wish!" you quickly added.

he blows the candles out. "whatcha wish for, babe?" you question your boyfriend, he turns his head to face you.

"i didn't make one. i have everything i want, right here," he smiles as he holds your hand, kisses the back of it, and looks at all of his best friends as they all smile back at him.

thank you for reading banner by @moonstrider9904 credits to them!

a/n: i know that the ending sucked. i haven't written in a while so i'm a bit rusty. but i do hope you enjoy it. thank you for reading <3

#navigation #ateezlovenet #jas-masterlist #seonghwa fluff #seonghwa fanfic #ateez fluff #ateez x reader #ateez soft hours #ateez seonghwa #atz fluff #atz x reader #atz fanfic #seonghwa x reader

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firawren · 1 year ago

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"Transformation" A Beauty and the Beast fanfic

Chapter 3, “Emerging,” rated T, now posted

Chapters: 3/17 now posted Fandom: Beauty and the Beast (Disney Animated Movies) Rating: Explicit

Romantic relationships: Belle/Beast, Gaston/Lumiere Platonic relationships: Gaston & Belle, Gaston & Beast

Key additional tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Love, Happy Ending, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Monster Fucking, Pregnancy, Miscarriage, Redemption, Family, Friendship, see full list of tags on AO3

Excerpt from chapter 3:

“Beast, I love you.”

Her tender words collided into him with the sudden force of a bolt of lightning, and he squeezed his eyes shut against the unexpected jolt for a moment.

But already dazzling light swirled around them, around each of the servants, streaking across every surface of the castle. When it cleared, everything had been transformed: a teapot into a woman, a clock into a man, dark gargoyles into pink cherubs, black stone and sharp iron into white marble and gilded gold flowers.

Everything, except, the Beast.

He looked down at his furry paws. Unchanged.

But that was forgotten as soon as he lifted his head to look at Belle. She was frozen to the spot where she stood, eyes and mouth open in shock.

“What, what just happened?”

He stepped toward her and gathered her in his arms. “I’ll explain it all, but, Belle, you love me.” He said it not like a question, but like a fact that he had to repeat out loud to try to make it make sense.

She nodded, a hint of a shy smile tugging at her lips. “Yes, Beast, I love you, and I want to stay here with you.”

Joyful warmth filled his body. “I love you, too, Belle.” He felt a sudden bitter pang of disappointment that he didn’t have a normal mouth to kiss her with at this moment, but it was quickly swept away by the pleasure of seeing the love for him shining in her beautiful eyes.

She lifted her hands to his face, slowly threading her fingers into the fur at his cheeks, then gently pulled his face down to hers and rubbed her nose against his. “So I can stay?” she murmured.

“Stay.” He slid one paw up her back to cradle her head. Oh he never wanted to let her out of his arms!

But a commotion out in the hallway made them break away from each other right before it burst into the room in the form of a slender man with a long nose and a stout man wearing a formal wig.

“Master, you did it! The spell—” Lumière froze and stared, and every muscle in Beast’s body went tense.

“Why are you…unchanged?” Cogsworth asked, staring at him too.

Belle gripped Beast’s arm, looking back and forth between the two men. “Who are you?”

Continue reading chapter 3 “Emerging” of “Transformation” on AO3

Summary:

Belle said she loved him. Everything transformed to how it used to be.

Except the Beast.

Forced into a new deal with the Enchantress, Beast will remain in this form forever. Belle doesn’t mind; she’s happy with him no matter what he looks like. Beast tries to just be happy, too, and for a while, everything is wonderful. Beast doesn’t know how he got so lucky, and Belle finally feels at home. But when the trauma of his past resurfaces, the future they’re trying to build together comes tumbling down.

Gaston’s ideal future isn’t going to plan either. Instead of getting married to Belle, it looks like he’s becoming friends with her, while developing feelings for someone else he’d never expected. This wouldn’t be so bad, except that the closer he gets to both of them, the more he learns to question his values and feel guilty for his past. And when that past finally comes to light, he stands to lose everything he’s gained.

This is a story about how sometimes the things we want to transform can’t be changed, and sometimes the things we think are hopeless can transform through love.

#transformation fic #batb fanfic #beauty and the beast 1991 #batb 91 #beauty and the beast #belle x beast #belle #the beast #gaston #lumiere #monster fucking #sexy times #fanfic #disney fanfiction

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inkovert · 11 months ago

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Was torn between using this to respond to a tag game and just posting the full snippet and the snippet won out so here - have a scene I just wrote of Spencer and Cami being cute (aka bantering).

“How much did you hear?” I asked, unprompted.

I was thankful that I didn’t need to clarify what I was referring to. “Enough,” he said.

I picked at a loose string of fabric on the couch. “It’s official. I’m a terrible person, aren’t I? Risking my brother’s friendship over something that turned out not to be worth it in the end, stringing the guy along when I wasn’t sure I was into him, dumping him and keeping it a secret from my brother. All sounds pretty messed up if you ask me.”

“Sure, if that’s what you want me to believe. You’re a terrible person. Making a series of innocuous, mundane decisions and bruising a sensitive jock’s fragile ego. What a monster.”

I glared at him. “Are you mocking me?”

“Do you deserve to be mocked?”

“Not when I’m being incredibly vulnerable and baring my soul to you. You know, you suck at comforting people,” I scoffed.

“A— not my job. B — you don’t want me to comfort you, you want me to help you wallow in self-pity and self-loathing.” I gritted my teeth as he nonchalantly flipped the page of his book. “What I don’t understand is why you’re letting him win. Tell you the truth, it’s making me lose the small ounce of respect I was starting to have for you.”

I narrowed my eyes. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“You told him off, stood your ground. Even when he was flinging petty insults as a last-ditch effort to get under your skin you didn’t indulge him. You won. And now you’re sitting here letting all the crap he said get to you because you aren’t satisfied unless you convince yourself that something was your fault.”

My lips pursed. “I don’t appreciate being psychoanalyzed.”

“I don’t appreciate being spoken to when I’m trying to read, but you insist on doing that regardless.”

With a grunt of frustration, I shifted around in my seat.

“Must you sit like that? Your shoes keep digging into me.” His tone was slightly irritated.

“Tough.”

His gaze cut over to me. Setting his book aside, he grabbed at my ankles, ignoring my yelps of protest, and draped my boots over his lap. Resting his forearms atop my shins, he opened his book and resumed reading.

Pouting, I attempted to wriggle free, but my legs were pinned beneath the weight of his arms.

I huffed in resignation. “You’re wrong, you know. The decisions I made weren’t innocuous. They hurt people, my brother especially. Or it will, when I finally tell him the truth.”

“So, it’s your fault for not having the clairvoyance to see this guy turn into an asshole, and not his fault for being one. That makes total sense.”

I shook my head at his sarcasm. “Have you never blamed yourself when someone you care about got hurt, even if it wasn’t completely your fault?”

In the rare absence of an immediate retort from him, I peered over to catch the ghost of a regretful smile on his face. “Story of my life.” I stared curiously at his profile, wondering where his mind had just went. “So, you were selfish for once. Made a choice and it affected the people around you. Good. That’s what it means to be human and to exist in this world. At least your choice didn’t do irreversible damage. No one died. All this pain is temporary.”

His words touched a tender wound in my heart. I chuckled bitterly. “Not every choice I’ve made turned out that way.”

“Not all of them do. But that doesn’t make every bad thing that’s followed automatically your fault.”

My breath hitched. Taken aback, I gaped at him. Then turned away as fresh tears pricked the back of my eyes. I tried to sniffle quietly so he wouldn’t notice, but his head turned at the sound.

“Are you crying?” he asked incredulously.

“No!” I insisted in a thin, whiny voice that was thoroughly unconvincing.

“Why the hell are you crying now?”

I covered my face. “I don’t know! It’s your fault! You can’t just say things like that!”

“Say things like what?” He sounded genuinely lost and confused.

“I don’t know, okay! Just shut up for a second and leave me alone!” I would’ve kicked him for emphasis, but my legs were still trapped under his arms.

He sighed. “My god, you’re such a mess.”

“You don’t think I know that!” I wiped at my wet cheeks. “It’s just…no one’s ever said that to me before. It just caught me off guard.”

“Everything you say and do catches me off guard and you don’t see me bursting into tears.”

“’Course not, that would require you to have emotions.”

Ignoring me, he pulled his phone from his jacket pocket and checked the screen, closed his book. “We should get going.”

“Oh, right —” The loud growl of my stomach interrupted my reply.

Spencer smirked. “We’ll stop by a drive-thru on the way back.”

“That would be nice…” I said sheepishly.

I swung my legs off him and rose to my feet. A book clattered to the floor. The Little Prince. I’d forgotten I was still holding onto it.

I picked it up from the floor, then turned to punch Spencer in the arm as he walked past me. He raised a brow.

“That’s for being an asshole.”

“Sorry, did you do something?”

Irritation surging, I punched him again with more force.

He made a show of studying the ceiling as he walked on. “Is there a draft in here or something?”

I begrudgingly followed him to the front of the store, studying the cover of The Little Prince thoughtfully.

“Wait,” I said, forcing Spencer to hang back at the exit. Stepping up to the counter, I slid the book toward Gio. “How much for this?”

Back in Spencer’s car, I nestled the plastic bag with my new purchase in my lap.

Spencer eyed me. “I can’t believe you bought that.”

“Why not? You made it sound interesting. I wanna see what all the hype is about.”

“I didn’t expect you to actually read it,” he muttered, tugging at his seatbelt and clicking it in place.

“I make no promises that I actually will.” I slipped the book out of the bag, running a thumb across the cover. “But you said it was your favorite book, and that it effectively made you into who you are now. So, who knows, maybe if I read it, I’ll understand you a bit better,” I shrugged.

Feeling his stare on my cheek, I glanced over, a mix of wonder and bewilderment breaking through his impassive exterior.

It quickly melted away and he shook his head, saying in a low voice, “I’m confident no amount of books in this world could make me understand you.”

#wip: MDE #writeblr #writing community #creative writing #original writing #but I'm really happy with this scene so pls enjoy ☺️ I have so much fun writing their banter lol #edit: fuck Tumblr - I tried to insert a line break image from Pinterest and it hid my post from my dash :') wtf :')

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