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cazshmere · 15 days ago

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12th House Sign in the Natal Chart and How you can Heal and Find Closure from Past Wounds 🩵

materialist🔖

DISCLAIMER : healing is a journey, not a destination, and everyone moves at their own pace. these tips are here to give you a nudge, not to create pressure or perfection. if you’re reading this and some things resonate, that’s wonderful :) take what feels right and leave the rest. and remember, there’s no one right way to heal or find closure. it’s okay to stumble, feel lost, or take a break. trust that every small step forward, even the tiniest ones, are part of the process. be kind to yourself along the way; you’re doing the best you can 🩵

🧩 aries in the 12th house

1. you’re bold in action, but sometimes hesitant in introspection. reflect on fears you might avoid and tackle them directly, like you would any challenge.

2. pent-up frustrations weigh on your subconscious. try activities like boxing, painting, or writing letters you’ll never send.

3. give yourself time alone without needing constant action. Silence and stillness help you get in touch with buried emotions.

4. reflect on times you acted quickly and accept that growth often means making mistakes.

5. indulge in something silly, like playing a game or watching cartoons. It helps you reconnect with yourself. watching your comfort movie with your favourite snacks will surely help

HEALING TIP : try journaling with a twist : write letters to yourself from different ages, like your 5-year-old self or your future self, to see your emotions from new perspectives. this could be super cathartic for you and help you move through the hard feelings holding you back also try meditation that is targeted towards inner peace

🧩 taurus in the 12th house

1. learn to release your hold on past pain. Healing for you often means loosening your grip on comfort zones, even in memories.

2. reflect on areas where you’ve felt unappreciated, finding self-worth from within rather than external validation.

3. you resist change, so make small, gradual adjustments to your daily life that invite healing over time.

4. practice acceptance of things you cannot control or predict; even small, symbolic acts like letting go of a token can help.

5. revisit an old hobby that once brought you joy, like gardening, knitting, or cooking. it’ll remind you of your inner peace.

HEALING TIP : try a sensory grounding exercise: touch something soft, listen to calming music, and smell something grounding like lavender to soothe your mind and body. also something that can temporarily help is watching a super scary movie or just eating spicy food, it can help you distract yourself from your thoughts, at least momentarily

🧩 gemini in the 12th house

1. your mind runs fast, but your 12th house challenges you to slow down and acknowledge buried insecurities.

2. release old narratives, whether it’s past gossip, harsh words, or regrets, let go of thoughts that weigh you down. Practice rephrasing past stories with kindness.

3. try creative outlets that let you express emotions without words, like art or dance, to connect with deeper feelings.

4. when you socialize, make time for connections that feel supportive and honest, without intellectual posturing.

5. quieting your inner monologue helps you access the quiet truths below the surface. Breathing exercises can help here.

HEALING TIP : try recording voice memos on your phone when you feel overwhelmed. Sometimes saying things out loud can help you make sense of them faster than writing.

🧩 cancer in the 12th house

1. you tend to tuck away your deepest fears. Make time to reflect on past emotions without judgment or the need to ‘fix’ them.

2. address any unconscious attachment to people or situations that no longer serve you, knowing it’s okay to need change.

3. offer compassion to yourself, revisit times when you felt misunderstood or unsupported, and give your younger self the love they needed.

4. learn to let go without feeling abandoned. Spend time nurturing your sense of self apart from your relationships.

5. forgive old wounds, allow yourself to release grudges or hurts, understanding that they don’t define your future connections.

HEALING TIP : write a letter to someone from your past you’ve never fully moved on from, then release it (you don’t have to send it).

🧩 leo in the 12th house

1. step back from needing validation, explore who you are outside of praise or recognition. spend time with yourself, just being rather than performing.

2. acknowledge areas where you might have felt rejected or unappreciated. practice self-love that doesn’t rely on others’ feedback.

3. try activities where you’re a beginner. learning something new can help you find power in vulnerability.

4. let go of ego-driven fears, focus on what makes you feel genuinely fulfilled, not just admired. reframe your goals around personal joy rather than approval.

5. reclaim your authenticity by exploring what brings you joy outside of an audience, like a private creative hobby that brings you peace.

HEALING TIP : try visualising your inner child, close your eyes and picture yourself as a child full of hope and joy, and send love to that younger version of you.

🧩 virgo in the 12th house

1. acknowledge that some things don’t need fixing. practice letting go without feeling the need to control every detail.

2. practice self-compassion, allow room for mistakes and honor your efforts without focusing solely on flaws. embrace your progress, not perfection.

3. stop overanalyzing (ik it’s hard but your overthinking is what causes majority of your problems, the more you overthink the more power you’re giving to those unwanted thoughts) give your mind permission to take a break. activities like meditative gardening or painting can help soothe the inner critic.

4. connect with your intuition, trust your instincts rather than rationalizing everything. allow yourself to simply “know” without overthinking it.

5. embrace the chaos haha, let things be messy or spontaneous without judgment. Flexibility helps you grow beyond rigid expectations.

HEALING TIP : try writing a list of what you’re grateful for, it's a simple but powerful tool to shift your focus from worries to abundance.

🧩 libra in the 12th house

1. find comfort in solitude, learn to enjoy your own company, separate from others’ opinions or companionship. practice inner peace.

2. let go of past people-pleasing, allow yourself to address buried feelings of resentment that may stem from overextending for others.

3. balance your inner harmony, focus on inner alignment rather than external harmony. Journaling or meditating on your needs helps you center.

4. heal relationship wounds, reflect on past connections that left an impact. release blame, knowing each taught you something valuable.

5. set boundaries with yourself, give yourself permission to say “no” without guilt. embrace your inner balance, free from others’ demands.

HEALING TIP : you can try a heart-centered meditation to connect with self-love and release neediness for outside validation or try a balance-focused yoga routine, it can be both grounding and soothing, helping you connect with your inner equilibrium.

🧩 scorpio in the 12th house

1. embrace your emotional vulnerability, lean into your feelings without fearing loss or control. Sharing emotions helps relieve hidden weight.

2. release grudges (ik this is something hard for you but letting go is better than holding on to the things that cause you problems - forgive but don’t forget perhaps), practice forgiveness as a way of releasing old hurts that drain you.

3. face your darkest worries with courage, knowing they don’t define you. Write them down and let them go.

4. reclaim personal power, you’re literally THAT bitch don’t forget that queen, focus on how you can empower yourself from within, instead of seeking control externally.

5. trust others with your feelings when it feels right; vulnerability can be deeply healing.

HEALING TIP : you can try shadow journaling by exploring both light and dark thoughts to understand yourself more deeply or if you want something fun instead try listening to a mystery podcast or an immersive story app where you can dive into thrilling narratives. this helps you tap into your emotional depth while being entertained, offering healing through mystery and intrigue.

🧩 sagittarius in the 12th house

1. look inward for meaning, sometimes answers lie within, not in new experiences. find fulfillment in self-reflection rather than escapism.

2. explore spiritual grounding, sagittarius craves meaning, so find practices that connect you to a sense of purpose, like guided meditation.

3. release judgment and let go of self-criticism about past “mistakes.” accept that growth is a journey, not a fixed outcome.

4. embrace introspection by giving your adventurous mind permission to slow down and find contentment in stillness.

5. cultivate patience please (so so important) you may be prone to quick fixes; practice patience with yourself and your journey to healing.

HEALING TIP : start a personal travel vlog (even if it's just to document your local adventures) or use digital journaling apps to record your thoughts, dreams, and philosophical insights. It’ll allow you to process your emotions while in a fun way <3

🧩 capricorn in the 12th house

1. release pressure to always be “on”, let go of needing to achieve every moment. It’s okay to just “be” sometimes, without a goal in sight.

2. forgive your past mistakes, address any old guilt you’re holding onto. you’re allowed to grow beyond your old decisions and learn without punishment.

3. embrace vulnerability (very important) being open about your feelings doesn’t weaken you; it strengthens your ability to understand and trust yourself.

4. trust life’s timing, not everything has to be perfectly planned. lean into moments of uncertainty and find peace in simply experiencing.

5. reflect on your worth beyond productivity, spend time exploring who you are outside of what you “do” or “produce.”

HEALING TIP : try weekly self-check-ins to connect with your needs and desires, away from the hustle of daily demands.

🧩 aquarius in the 12th house

1. embrace your quirks and shadows, you have a unique mind, so allow yourself to be different even in your struggles. reflect on hidden fears and accept them.

2. let go of needing to understand everything, release the need to overanalyze or intellectualize every emotion; trust that some things are just felt, not solved.

3. balance independence with connection, don’t isolate yourself too much. healing also comes through genuine human connections.

4. explore spontaneous introspection, give yourself the freedom to meditate or journal in unconventional ways, like painting or singing.

5. lean into self-compassion, you may be hard on yourself for being “too different” or processing wounds and hurts “differently” but learn to embrace that unique perspective as your strength.

HEALING TIP : try creative expression exercises that bring your thoughts to life, like freeform art, dance, editing, posting stuff online (blogs, reels etch) or sound journaling helps too.

🧩 pisces in the 12th house

1. set healthy boundaries with emotions, your empathy can pull you into others’ feelings. spend time differentiating between your own emotions and theirs.

2. give yourself closure without finality, understand that sometimes closure isn’t perfect or neat, and let go of needing every question answered.

3. create a soothing retreat, build a healing environment, like a cozy corner or blanket fort lmao, where you can escape and connect with your inner peace.

4. release victim mentality, move beyond past hardships by reclaiming your personal power and seeing yourself as a survivor, not a sufferer.

5. TRUST. YOUR. INTUITION. you’re naturally in touch with the unseen. lean into that gift by tuning into your feelings without judgment.

HEALING TIP : create a healing playlist filled with calming music, or even soothing ASMR sounds, to help you unwind and feel safe in your own space.

banner & pic credits to the rightful owners <3

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astralnymphh · 2 months ago

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𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 (𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐬)

summary: your suspicious encounter has given ellie her five minutes and her knife—but can she truly measure insincerity? reader discretion advised: seattle!ellie x fem!reader, angst (with comedic and romantic undertones), reader is a stranger, reader has a sibling, inevitably changes the trajectory of the canon storyline, inherent tensions, interrogation tactics; knife (obviously), drawing blood, smacking, punching, collectively getting beaten to a pulp. ellie has ran into someone who matches her energy, maybe even dominates it. whew. lots to interpret. memo: this came to me in a daydream!!! yay for getting beat up!!! footnotes: word count (4.3k), masterlist, palestine masterpost, read this, proofread by the lovely @caraphernellie!

It is an aching, scathing thing: this world.

In the mornings, the most godless sounds awaken. Salvation takes pitiless dances with self-righteous societies, and the meek have inherited the earth.

If you have a bounty—an idea of revenge—you must be fain to bleed every happy accident dry of information, and bleed yourself.

“Where's Abby?”

You are a happy accident. Urging for an alibi, your appetite stared down the barrel of several guns. The soldiers of this hospital you sought out on eroding patience were not helpful. If anything, lethal. They seemed guilty of selling out; failing to fulfill their scrap of the bargain, dodging explanations and lily-whiting themselves with some careless, out-of-the-blue, bullshit argument for why the agreement changed, why they acted against the inertia. All these sour months, yet nothing to compensate for time. Just conflict.

You were owed fifteen guns from this deal. Fifteen!

The debate fired in a deep corridor, right above the bowels of the hospital. Some bitch—Nora, you think, plated the verdict first and coldly before making off someplace else. Almost like you weren't really there. Still bleeding for clarity, you had everyone else in the hospital browbeaten, interrogating one after another, interrupting their plans to clear out the place. You used the threats in your mouth and the appetence of your revolver to show them you meant blood and business, simultaneously. Some heads went rolling.

Then, the place got infiltrated, making you an emergent exfiltrator. Like fire in a timber house of innocents, death caught quickly. Gunshots cracked at a singularity. A couple fired, then there would be a pause, muffled commotion, a horrifying scream, and a shallow rain of bullets come again.

It became instantly understood that it was a single person; a party would bring more noise. Frightened seconds became bodies on the floor in minutes, the melody of throats choking on blood padding the halls, and like time in a nutshell, one note of that melody played right outside the room you lurked in.

You recall a muttered echo: “Fucker,” which taunted the loud gurgles of blood, and rang as a sign that it was too late.

Her narrow and thorough eyes had the emptiest and deepest rooms flipped upside without warrant. Not even the silent take-outs, blind-covered windows or the secrecy of your location evaded interest. She craved some of that action.

You interrogated one room of stubborn people, only to be interrogated by a trespassing 'nother. Fucking coincidence, right?

God, and this girl is just terrible at cross-examination! Don't let her in a courthouse, of any quarantine zone. If they exist.

Ever.

It has gone on for a minute now. She continuously asks these redundant questions and tries cheap intimidation tactics her daddy probably demonstrated on several unlucky incidents like yourself—or maybe it's improv. Sure fuckin' sounds like it. And, not to mention, an extravagant amount of profanity that even the devil himself would blush at.

Fingers snap in your face. “Hey,” she barks. The table beside you is one of her foresaid tactics. It gets slammed. “Where is she?” Her wrathful gesture makes you glance only by a virtue of instinct. Clearly, this hand gets all the action.

Simmering reds from all that yelling have curled up her cheeks, painting her in a flit of desperate, pathetic rage. She is a strange clash of auburns and browns. In eerie-black rivers, bleeding up the walls, she is a darling brunette. But in the closeness of light, it washes into a gutsy auburn. Blinding and fiery. Those eyes have you engrossed too, damn: a penetrating, cat's-eye green you could fuck up in the sightline of. Her mother give her those?

Whatever. Why she needed to find this girl, you have no clue. Where this girl in question is—you still have no clue! This is useless. In fact, to her pursuit, you are useless. Files would better serve her mission, which thousands upon thousands sit in this hospital waiting to enlighten the blood-hungry half of the population with information. Surely she knows how to fucking read, right?

Yet, your sun of escape had set indefinitely, predestining you to writhe and mope in this tangle of uncomfortable ropes for however long until she was satisfied—or suffocating you. Fight, fight, and fight all you want; there is no abdication in negotiation.

“Did you ever think to ask the guards before slicing their throats?” You cock your head, sassy, contemptuously, without a care. It's an easy antidote for you to suggest given your mental innocence to the horrors outside that door. The prelude to this tangle of ropes is an interpretation of screams and guzzles—your favorite! “Too late now, though. Oops.”

Annoyance rolls from the pit of her teeth “Oh, my fucking..” She sounds irritable, eager to snap, and she turns her back to you for the sake of her sanity.

There is a faint sound of her fingers, squeezing on the mechanics of her lovely handgun. Maybe, just maybe, she'll knuckle under now; abdicate in the sweetness of another murder? Shut your trap by boring a bullet through it?

“Do you ever quit it with the snark?” She swings back around, hunching arms-crossed.

Nevermind.

You chart your own thoughts for a possible half-genuine, mostly clever answer, eyes rolling up. “Hmm..” Checking if it lives on the ceiling, like a perfect spring apple, ripe and pendant for picking. “Not recently, no.”

That strikes a nerve. “Oh, great,” she bluffs, that empty ink of doubt rich in the short, artificial reply. Certain smilings you often earn from fed-up someones. “Guess I'll have to try harder to get it outta' you, huh?” Her face fades, broadcasting something a little more serious, though those hooded eyes are the least daunting thing.

“Oh, so hard—”

Bam! Nailed right in the cheek. No sign, no second-rounds needed. The faithfulness of four knuckles pulled through your jaw, your teeth. It aches, and your sense of vantage is knocked for a moment, flopping your head back from where she clocked it.

You swish your cheek against the throbbing, staring with provocation. She stares, too. Through the old, grimy light above, you see her conscience emptying out: upper lip snared up, brows pulling to meet a center, heavy breathing. You believe judgment exits through every exhale.

“I saw you in here, rummaging through files and shit. You know something.” Her chin becks to you, foregrounding you as the first pawn of evidence. “Where'd she go?”

“Up my ass, bitch.”

Her mouth flinches at your immature fulmination. Offended, or disgusted. Rigid cords accentuate in her neck. “You smart-mouthed cunt!” she seethes, and her angrily mumbling that leads too smoothly into another blow to the maw, getting all up in your twisted face. “Where?”

You sling back. “Clearly not right in front of you, damn it!” Spitting the blood stilling in the pockets of your gums, you damn her; aim for the tip of her converse. Panting, you bring your eyes up slowly to glare. “Who shit in your rations?”

“We don’t—hmph, I don’t do rations.”

Throwing a joke put a cork in her incursion, slipping up her words. You have to laugh. Furrows pinch between her brows, then she scans you up and down, face contorting into slow inspiration. They widen, discern; something you said alludes.

What is she thinking?

”Are you FEDRA? Undercover soldier?”

Your smile fades. “What? No.”

She motions to the bodies entrailing the floor. “Then why'd you kill them?”

“Got in my way.”

Her lips press into a line, and she huffs. Appraisal demanded conjectures, and you weren’t giving her anything. Things that may nail the target right in the eye, or miss by a small mark. You came here for one thing and one thing only, and that's none of her business—but, she wants to make it her business. Clothing you in warfare made it psychologically easier to absolve herself.

Two can play at that game. “Are you an undercover soldier?” you spin the question, blood in your mouth stirring a grudge. This situation might fall more into place if tongues point to yes. “Which zone hired you for reparation? Or would that be the Seraph—”

“Not a soldier.” Her interruption is resolute. She holds something harsh in-between the teeth, a stiff rehash, unable glarings. “I'm not FEDRA, I'm not a Scar..” The floor seems to interest her eyes. “Actually, what I am is none of your goddamn business.” She only looks up at you at the end, eyes narrowed.

“Neither am I yours.”

For smart-mouthing, you expect a third kiss of violence to erupt your gums—nostrils, perhaps—and she relents. Silence perverts the room, leaving an uncomfortableness to stretch from her stare. Gulps, blinks, and breaths that invocate. She expects you to give her a thesis, glaring like a hawk. A glare that depicts, “You are my damn business.” without ever having to gorge a throat.

You watch her right fist fumble together, blanking out on the earth-stained nooks. “Just assumed someone so blood-hungry would be an undercover soldier that has it out for rebel militia groups trying to battle authority. Maybe you wanted to snuff out the Firefly legacy? Once and for all?”

The coarse skin of her tattoo looks storied. Covered in things you lack context for.

But are you not self-same?

“Ex-Fireflies are finicky fucking people,” you begin to rasp in the vowels, clearing your throat. “Fuckin' hate them.”

Nothing is said on her end. Nothing of solace, nothing of condemnation, not even a different opinion. She traces all the lines quietly; squints at your lowered face, weighs your scars, conjecturing what your reputation must be to wear wounds like these. They must be gorgeous enough to ignore, because she prowls closer and slips into her back pocket, pulling a switchblade. Mahogany, and storied indeed. Fresh blood, old blood.

You peek up when you hear it flick. “Last chance,” the rigid-lipped girl warns. And like she has experienced an earnest, diabolic and pardoned shift in mind, her eyes look prepared to see you choke. “What's it gonna take?” She would slice you if it meant bleeding the infinite resolve out of you.

Fingertips dance on the handle of it. Pitifully, agitatedly dancing under the shadows. “Reasons, maybe?”

“Yeah? Wanna be like that?” She braces an arm on the chair, caging you, leaning in. Warm, arrowlike words hit you. They smell of breath. “Someone was hunted, tortured and killed, right in his own fucking town. Planned attack, too.” The cold, keen edge of the blade is pressed against your pulse, provoking a swallow through you. Tight in freckled hands, bloodspill is ensured. “That enough for you?”

“Oh,” you chuckle unamusedly. “Revenge doesn't solve shit.”

“Then why the fuck are you here?” The growing pressure of her hand leaves a thin, immaculate cut, no drippage. Your subtle stonewalling escalates the tension in her, and so, she slowly buckles under; teasing the knife with a little taste.

Muted pain hisses from you. “Not revenge,” you plume, showing her your eyes. “Wolves got somebody I know held hostage and is unfairly expending them for their work. They won't let 'em off as agreed.”

Eyes reveal lies.

“Bullshit.”

You disengage from the delicate stinging on your neck, confounded by her. “Okay, and what makes your excuse more plausible?” Either you wear an embittered smile, or it wears you. Her cynicism is almost predictable. “I was owed shit from these assholes.”

“Which assholes?”

Of course, every detail is of the essence. You get her, to a degree; she is enraged justice in the form of a girl, but is overwhelmingly that. Rage. She spreads her pawns inside out and envisages a judging of gospel in their exposed guts. Interpreting the files, the conditions, the realisms of things said. Was that soldier truly vulnerable? Did they die weaponless, fearful, and innocent? Is innocence even a condition, given the crimson in her eyelines?

She looks lost in all the blood.

The temporary break opens to your heavy sigh. “Think her name was Nora.” Lasting throbs from the punches minutes before worsen as you speak. You crinkle your face against them. “'Dunno, don't care. Just want my brother back.”

You cannot tell if your answer brings satisfying insight, hearing only her inhales go in, and out. Knife laying inert, you receive no pain for it, but no freedom from it, either. She opens her mouth a bit, and bloomed breaths fan over you, like a response is meant to come out. Then her bloodied, bottom lip folds in, rubbing against her top, brows set low, and you know the contents of her mind are crafting a narrative.

Measuring your high-stake sincerity.

“Is that enough for you?”

Her eyes are sharp when you ask.

The weight of inflection, the material of fluency. Both are determiners. You, for the past five minutes, have acted a soft and blunt manner in the face of one jury. Maybe facetious, too, but it changes little.

She picks herself up from her wander-faced brainwork, and concentrates outside of her mind. “'Kay,” she drones, cocking her head. “Where is Nora, then?”

You sigh. “Probably upstairs.” The fight for life continues. Behind the chair, your wrists contort quietly for a weak knot. “Or gone. Depends how long you take to untie me.”

One corner of her lip crooks. “Huh, you really think it's that easy?” Her face compliments the eerie line perfectly. She slides the blade past your collarbone, without pressure, and pierces it into your sleeved arm. Slow torture of twisting. “Tell me where, exactly.”

Gouging torments worse than simple incisions. With cuts, you can leave ugly reminders. But with a debased conscience and an end goal, she hopes to wind the information out clean; create a perpetual torture that loosens your tongue. She does not flinch, does not glance with hesitation while the tip draws a sweet, ugly, crimson vortex above your inner-elbow. Those steady eyes bore other holes into yours. Lingering, reading your pain.

Your windpipes fill with a groan, and you clutch at the bundle of knots behind you. “Fuck!” The pain does torture you. She is exacting in the way that it does. Torturing your skin, your thoughts. It forces a puncture of annoyance in your gut for not having much else to say while she bleeds you for it. You try to fathom her situation at large.

“Fuckin' lucky I haven't slit your throat yet.”

Then, it clicks.

“Come on, where?” Her impatience hits home.

You know where the blind spots are in this situation. Context shines clearly. “It's not just some random guy you're getting revenge for, huh?” Struggling under knifepoint, your words slip out with the violence of a tear. Scratchy, compressed.

But the gouging technique of her fingers stop, saving you a second.

“What?”

Her face and voice incarnate offense identically. There had to be some nasty reason backing your statement, another round of your clever inaction to distract a sure demise. Yet, it still chokes. She wants to finish this, but you are by far the most thought-provoking victim her switchblade has ever laid infliction to. You can make a girl hesitate pretty damn well; it frustrates her. Makes her culpable, a gilded conscience whispering in low tones to let it back in. Reverting her to one of the many things that Seattle made her find fucking sickening: empathy.

Thinking.

She slaps a band-aid on those exposed nerves, keeping her heart small, and begrudgingly narrows her eyes into confrontational lines. The knife softly listens.

You continue. “Obviously, this someone is special,” attesting brashly, not so formally as a court would mandate. Just loud enough to film over the sound of your binds loosening. “Who goes all this way for somebody they don't share blood with?”

Regardless of how bold, how unoriginal this shot in the dark is, the revenge-high girl drops her lip. She's trying to pin a conceivable falsehood to your words, but it conflicts with the perfection of them; you aren't entirely wrong.

An irritated sigh claws open the air.

Forget it—she isn't looking to be mutual. She didn't chase a rumor to carve sympathy. Histories shall keep to themselves. “So? Don't play fucking stupid with me,” she reproaches you, introducing the pressure of her knife down on your thigh. “If she's gone, you're gonna show me right where she's headed.”

You watch her empty hand reach back. “Then?”

The sounds of paper halt. She frowns at your strange cross-questioning. “Then—I'll let you go.” Her reply is reluctant, so full of an unsure breath. “But only on the condition that you aren't fucking bullshitting me.”

The hand once-empty arcs from her back pocket, unfolding an outdated map of Seattle before your eyes. Damn, does she need an exact time too?

“Where?”

Hence that, the knife eases silence with pain again. There are tense cords on the crest of her palm from pushing it in. You almost absently and sullenly admire the true beauty of the flesh wallowing in contemplation; chances are, you may know too much now, and could cause wounds in her plan if let go. Providing her the intel she thrives for won't save you—it will kill you.

So, while so much as a long wince takes up your throat, you think of something else.

“Come on,” she nags, twining the knife into your kneecap. You counter with a cry, the vulnerable, warm shine threatening to paint your undereyes. “Could be done with this already. Eyes up here.” It crept up so quick.

But before you succumb, the roughness around your wrists becomes a nothingness, and your fingers grasp for light. Reprieve, a pardon to injury; you take it into your own hands.

The scene shifts like rain. Shock jerks her eyes wide when the chair clatters, and you drive her backwards—heels scattering, hands thrashing in a flit of desperation—and her special switchblade is suddenly against her. You swipe it tracelessly, catching her off-guard and cursing. Threatened palms puncture you repeatedly in the shoulders, trying to shove you off as she is slammed into the wall, knocking out the incentive she held so dearly like a candle.

Her hand dives below where you can see, definitely headed for the leather gun holster that clasps her thigh. She struggles to unload it. Before she can even wrap a finger, your reflexes are a step ahead, ridding her of that precious, immediate solution. You bash the damn thing into her nose.

“Fucking cunt!” she shouts with her lip snared down, the raging shape of her teeth evinced. Her hips struggle against you, palms now reaching to eclipse your sockets, both in a desperate fight to recapture her authority. Careful, she might bite!

Everything transpired so quickly. You feel whiplash as you toss the gun, brace her arms and show her precisely what lies ahead—scratching the surface, knife on her pale pulse.

Struggle exists no longer; the weapon buys you surrender. She focuses her lingering energy on catching air, slack under your fingers.

“Well, shit!” Your chest opens with a degrading laugh, one she abhors. Screw looking at you. “Guess it really was that fucking easy, huh?” You begin a soft dint in her neck with the pricked end, inciting her to swallow a lump.

It does not fall quietly. She cracks open her lips and blood from her nose weeps in. “Please, stop,” she pleads, loud and clear. Instead, she is entrusted meekness as a desperate measure. That flesh you loom could be wool, a startled wool, and she would be a lamb. An innocent condition. Either fits her, since either way, she is tense and looking at the inanimate space behind you. Guiltily, flinchingly.

Only one curiosity will complete you. “Name?”

“Ellie.” It rushes like another life is at stake. Since when is she soft with a heart that can break? Whatever it is, it got her in this pretty predicament. “Why?” she raises, tone wary.

“Harder to kill somebody with a name.” Cute name for a murderer.

Her teary eyes narrow with confliction.

Ellie all but understands you. Your enigmatic nature has brought her to enmity and pity thus far—and on the precipice of murder—but now you're offering complete mercy? That's a hard thing to want to accept. People these days almost prefer, by an all-embracing scale, the venom, the simplicity, and the diabolical origins of the ethos of this apocalypse. Sometimes, it comes easier up and down the throat. Belonging eroded, and this country is a skeletal memory of itself, nothing will endure. Ellie understands that; she was born into it, and so, it is her and that is eternal.

So why you choose to spare her, has her scrunching her nose and pinching those signature frown-brows. Though, in the lurid light of her being that somebody with a name, she appears more strangely relieved, even if death sits at her throat still. Getting her to end this was your why and wherefore. You don’t care, you don’t have the time. So, you let the sun set.

Her eyes quirk up, and meet an equilibrium between her and you. They look dimensional with intrigue, somewhat proportionate to almonds. Gentle, springtime in the middle. “You're not gonna kill me?” Eyes you won't harm.

“No,” you announce it like it is solace, hard-fought. Tucked eyes and no strings attached, you sure are serious about this. “You aren't an issue to my efforts or some soldier telling me to come back tomorrow or to fuck off, so.. yeah.” The switchblade flicks back into the shell. You hold it out to her, and that itself sells the deal. “Congratulations.” A simple resign.

She lets it slip into her palm. Hugs the weight, rolls the wood on the curls of her knuckles. “Hm,” she hums timidly. Feeling it now, eliminating you would have changed nothing. If anything, weighed on her conscience in the dells of nightfall.

But she still lacks information. She needs to get it somewhere, somehow.

Thoughts begin to trickle: if her fingers can do such fragile things as plucking a guitar, should they be considerate?

Should she start now?

After a silent break, and a wipe of her bloodied lip, she decides to try. “Is your brother with them?” Wearing some sympathetic face absent of a smile; you're too preoccupied to notice if she does. “Sounds tough what you're going through.” Yeah, she cares enough to try.

You recess from looting. “The Wolves?” Crouching low.

“Yeah.” Her voice cracks, involuntarily.

God, this girl is a paradox of hypocrisy. First, she doesn't want your sympathy, and now she is a fraying thread of it. Loosened seams all over. You grin at her, rooted tall to the floor several feet away, but you are too in favor of doubt to look grateful now. “Oh, so now it's not bullshit?”

“That was before,” she laughs tentatively, traipsing closer. You leave her fidgeting, the natural gravity of her hand not knowing what to do, where to fall to. Debris crunches under her converse as she stands stock still before you, her stillness an invitation.

Again, she says nothing. Nothing as you aimlessly stare and travel over her little chafings. Waiting on your reply, your movement, your hitches of breath. Hidden languages of the body. There, you would make this mutual, or tell her to fuck off.

Maybe she believes you can benefit her still. Benefit each other.

Yeah, right.

Nothing promising sprouts from what is uncomfortably introduced.

It makes you scoff. “If you’re proposing some sort of win-win deal, then..” You heave briefly from your chest lugging up your backpack as you stand. “I've had my fair share. No thanks.” Telling her to fuck off, cordial as possible.

“Yeah,” she rethinks. “Dumb idea.”

Seeing her face shift is quite the telling. An easy withdraw. Whatever she wanted to do, it wouldn’t work in the long run.

The steel door is guttural when you push on it. Groaning in the hinges, it instills a tension over your shoulder; she is still back there, reloading her guns, probably watching you. It gets you thinking, your hand hesitating. You may have no clue where to go yourself, but it would snip your thorny curiosities if you knew her destination. You know a small something.

“Check the operations base.”

Her shotgun clocks open. “Operations base?”

“Near the stadium. Think Nora is heading there,” you disclose, to entice, glancing over your shoulder. She needed that. “Be careful though, you’re public enemy number one now.”

She collapses her gaze. “Yup.” Her hatred was safely disposed of, so she takes your concern gently.

After all, you remain strangers.

“Hope you get where you’re going.” The shotgun locks back in place.

Now is when you say nothing. You leave, without a spontaneous prayer or hope for her future.

Better to forget this ever happened.

“She wasn’t in any of the polaroids.”

Day closes inside the theater. Abdication takes place in the far-back dressing room, where wounds are dressed, and afterthoughts are festering. Ellie thinks restlessly about it.

What were the chances?

Ellie takes the needle into her riven skin without a flinch. The back of her lungs fill into, with long breaths, the tender palm of Dina, who asks, “Did she have information, at least?” as the suture threads through.

“She could've killed me.” Her fingers creep up her neck, feeling at her collarbones. The thought makes her mind turn. “But..”

Dina finishes with a knot on the carnic reminder. “But you're okay,” she conveys her gratitude. To higher powers, to luck, to you—whoever. She collects the hand from her collarbone, shielding her own over and embracing it against Ellie's abdomen. “Scratched up, obviously, but here. Safe.”

The gesture is fragile. Ellie clutches softly at her own stomach, grooving trails of her fingers. She wants to say something, but her mind everlastingly obsesses over your intel. “She said Nora's stationed in their operations base.” Her arm kindly slips from Dina and ravels into her shirt, tossing it over her head. All this bloodshed has given her a one-track mind. “Somewhere west of here, near a stadium, uh—think that's site two on our map.” She stands and smooths the crinkles. “Thanks for the help, babe.”

Dina can only hope well. “Mhm.” But she loathes this metamorphosis. Day after day, it leaves her feeling secondary. “Just be careful tomorrow, okay?” She has to continue physical contact to keep herself above, rising after Ellie. “We're rootin' for you.” Pressing a smile into her warm neck.

It repurposes itself onto her lips. “Yeah, like my groupie?” Certain smiles Ellie tends to forget she can share, and kiss, even if fleetingly. Thought fades all.

Hard to forget what happened.

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hunnidmilly · 2 months ago

Text

over it. - sefa f. +millytober+

am i really that much…to handle?

*y’all met him as solo sikoa, i met him as fine ass sefa w that long ass hurr😩 ignore the time stamps on the messages, i noticed an error and had to redo one 🙂‍↕️*

warnings: cheating (semi; not established), ex’s to lovers, eating out, oral sex (femme receiving), use of n word, mentions of sex, mentions of breeding, aggressiveness, choking.

parings; sefa fatu (solo sikoa) x black!reader.

you rubbed a hand over your face, throwing your phone on the couch. your nerves began to rise, at the thought of sefa wanting to pop up again. the last time you two saw each other…it wasn’t pretty. to simply put, you wanted more from him and sefa was just going on the road to start his wrestling career. the night ended in him calling you ungrateful, and you calling all types of ain’t shit ass niggas left and right.

you were ready to take that next step with him; you stood there and poured your heart out about wanting to be exclusive, how much you loved and cared for him, being with him made your heart swell…and he just threw up all over it with his bullshit.

he told you, how the fsw brand wanted to finally sign him on; he couldn’t make time for a serious relationship right now, the long distance, the different time zones, he wanted to completely focus on getting everything in place to soon join his family at the top in wwe.

to many, they considered you selfish. but who gives a fuck what they think? your man told you he couldn’t be with you, couldn’t even fuckin’ try…because he got a job. okay.

you were ungrateful ass fuck and a clingy selfish brat, and took that title proudly. it didn’t matter. when you walked out the door of his condo a year and a half ago that was it. he flooded your phone with messages and calls begging you to hear him out, and to apologize.

you simply ignored him.

you did eventually caved after a few weeks. he promised no arguing, keeping his hands to himself, and full immunity to voice how you felt…0 truths and all lies. the night ended with you bent over his couches arm rest as he pounded into you from behind, engraving his aura into your pussy. he almost didn’t even leave with the way you kept creaming all over him.

while you both agreed to break up, he wasn’t leaving without a goodbye gift. although he knew you were on birth control, he made sure to pump all of his cum deep into you; even falling asleep with his dick plugged into your pussy to make sure it would reach your womb.

sefa wasnt slick; he wanted you to wait for him to reach a comfortable pace, so the two of you could be together again. you couldn’t bare it. waiting for a man who invalidated your feelings when you wanted to finally take that next step? all because he couldn’t handle it? you ignored the fuck out any communication he attempted. as weeks went by the phone calls, messages, emails, and even letters slowly faded, until he completely stopped. he finally got the memo. you moved on with life.

after going out for drinks one night a few months ago, you met rodney. he never quite compared to sefa, but he was okay. he was great at conversation and took you out on dates, but that was all. for two months, you’ve been giving him the run around

he wasn’t getting any pussy, with how he sweated you. he wanted to be under you all day, over your house, on the phone, kissing all on you, questioning you about where you are, who you been with, how you know em’. all he got was to be able to play around with your tits and your pussy a little with his hands. whenever he’d attempt to do more, you’d push him away.

you liked rodney, but you couldn’t stop wanting your man back. nothing compared.

a swift knock on your door sounded as you picked a playlist. summer walker’s over it album was going to be the mood tonight. you looked in the mirror by the door as you reapplied a thick coat of lipgloss, before opening it.

your heart thumped out your chest at seeing sefa. here he was after a year, his hair tied into a low ponytail, dark grey sweatpants and a matching sweater, with jordan’s on his feet.

“you always braiding muthafuckas’ hair in booty shorts?” his eyes raking up and down your body slowly

“this is my house. i’ll wear whatever i want. cool with you?”

“didn’t i tell yo ass chill the fuck—“

“i don’t have time for your bullshit. i’ll braid you hair and then you’re leaving. that’s it. c’mon.” you left him at the door with an eye roll to walk towards the couch

sefa’s eyes stayed planted on your ass, watching it jiggle as you walked away from him. he had to bite his lip and mentally count down to keep himself from getting hard. the way he felt? he wanted to bend your ass right over the couch arm rest and see if your pussy was still always ready for him.

your smart ass mouth was one thing, but he finally got what he wanted. here he was right back in your space again, and this time he he wasn’t leaving without making sure you weren’t going anywhere.

“sefa, i don’t have all day. hurry up, i got things to—.” you spoke again opening the jar of grease and spreading your legs, before the sound of your phone ringing caught his eyes

“aye man, who the fuck is rodney? deadass?” his teeth grit snatching your phone about to press answer

“stop! nigga, are you crazy!” you yelled out snatching your phone back from him, “ya know what? get the fuck out. i’m not playin these games with you. it’s been a year. you thought i was gone wait around? life moves on. just like you did.”

“that’s yo fuckin’ problem right there. yo stupid ass don’t listen. i never moved on. i said what had to happen for me—“

“it’s always you. just you, you, you. never us, or even me!”

“oh, so you and rodney? that’s all you, baby?”

“you’re absolutely insane…” you shook your head amazed at him “you care more about if another nigga has been fucking me, than anything else. you’re such a bitch for that shit. get ou—“

you words were cut off at sefa bringing his hand to wrap around your throat, putting just the right amount of pressaure that made you submit to him. immediately you quieted down, tucked your tail between your legs and looked away, knowing eye contact would be the one thing to send you over the edge.

you could your pussy began to drip through your panties, the ache starting to form at the aggressiveness he displayed. you tried to subtle squeeze your legs shut to create small friction there.

“i said watch yo fuckin’ smart ass mouth. you been turnt all day wit my ass. i’m sick of that shit. you been giving other mutherfuckers my pussy?” he growled out into your ear bringing your body flush to his “now yo ass quiet as a fuckin’ mouse? answer me.”

you kept your mouth shut. part of you liked this side of him, you wanted him to be rough with you; show you how much he missed you. that he still cared.

“ight…i see i gotta find out myself. get them shorts off. panties too.” he rushed out as he pushed you towards the couch, “bend over.”

you pushed your thumbs into the band of your shorts and panties pushing them towards your ankles before stepping out of them. your lower body moved over the arm rest, perching your pussy on full display for him.

so roped up in your thoughts, you didn’t even hear ur phone buzz again. this time, sefa reaching over to answer rodney’s phone call.

“yea…look at that pussy. so fuckin’ wet fa me. gotta inspect her first. see who else she had.” he panted before easing two fat fingers inside you

“ah!” you softly moaned as his fingers curled to rub that spongy spot inside you

sefa’s eyebrow raised; he didn’t always remember a lot, but he knew how pussy felt. his pussy felt. it was still just as tight and wet as when he was last in it, “damn bae. kept my pussy nice and tight, fa’ me? yea?”

you lost the power to string a sentence together, only focusing on fucking yourself on his fingers and releasing loud moans, “you been takin’ care of this pussy? givin’ her the attention she need since daddy’s been gone? tell me whose pussy this is.”

“i-it’s your pussy, sefa. oh my god!” you cried out, unable to hide how excited you were he was finally back—the wetness easing down your legs a testimony to that.

“gimme your hands, mama.” you quickly obeyed him moving your arms behind you, him positioning your hands to spread your ass cheeks to allow him to spread you open, “pretty ass pussy, my girl so fuckin’ messy, gotta clean her up.”

you were so fucking sweet and ready to be fucked with his tongue. he lowered to be eye level with your pussy and reached forward to suck your clit into his hot and wet mouth. he hummed at the taste of you on his tongue and sent vibrations through out your body.

your cries of ecstasy sounding like a lullaby in the room. he pressed his face further into you, his beard occasionally scratching against your sensitive clit. you widened your legs to give him better access to run his beard on you. he gripped your thighs tightly as he took your pussy whole into his mouth—flicking his tongue in and out of your entrance.

the room echoed with the sounds of his obscene slurping and sucking—drowning out the noise of summer walkers voice.

“aw fuck! sefa! don’t stop…pleasee, don’t stop.” you shrieked, your nails creating crescent moon shapes on your ass cheek to relieve some of the pressure. your thighs quivering as you grew closer to flooding his tongue with your cream

him harshly sucking your throbbing clit back into his mouth, turned that into a reality. your cum gushing out your pussy onto his tongue as your entire body convulsed. you couldn’t stop shaking, sefa’s tongue still licking and sucking making your eyes roll to the back of your head. your pussy now getting sensitive and twitching around his tongue. your mouth opened on a strangled cry, erupting in a shuttering orgasm for the 2nd time on his tongue.

you were paralyzed and your mind was blank. your tears and spit making a dark spot on the couch cushion. all you could wanted to do was lay there and take the assault of his tongue, even if you couldn’t take it anymore. he gave your clit one last suck and placed soft kisses around your entrance, before standing back to his full height.

“tell rodney, you ain’t finna be seein’ him no mo, baby.” his voice deepened and filled with urgency, ready to get back to reminding you who he was.

undoubtedly, you belonged to sefa. you always di—wait,

rodney?

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hyukalyptus · 2 months ago

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sexting w txt hcs

oooohhh interesting....

cw. sexting, pet names, fem reader, everything is implied, nothing rly happens, sendng nudes/audios, cunnilingus, masturbation.

yeonjun - he's already rly flirty over text anyway, like thinkin of how good u tasted this morning... or miss your lips baby.... but then when y'all are far apart for a few days, especially if ur in different time zones, he'd have full blown, cumming in his hand sex w u over text. and omfg the nudes this man would send......he'd send them at the worst possible times, making u tingle while at ur desk job or while ur on the train. and honestly, could see him writing corny lil poems, confessing his love for u in response to seeing ur tits.

soob - i feel like he's pretty subtle, only happens every once in a while when its straight up sexting ykwim? BUT i can see him recording voice memos of him cumming in the shower and sending them to you with a miss u sm baby... and his little GIGGLES omfg. and i think he'd ask u for nudes a lot and always has the cutest reactions, like that's my girl....thank u my love

beomgyu - silly, fun sexting. like can i see ur bewbs babe pls? but his nudes would be amazing. the lighting, the framing, omg he's such a picky bitch about how his nudes would look. i could see him being the type to make u cum from just his texts while he's like getting his hair done. he's about to go on stage but ur in ur living room w ur hand in ur panties.

tae - oooohhh soo complimentary omfg. more so like,, making love you u over the phone ? like baby, u mean so much to me and i'm gonna prove it to you tonight. or i hope you know how beautiful you are. do i need to show you with my cock when i get home? or i feel so close to you when my arms are wrapped around u and ur wraped around my cock <3

hueningkai!! - ugh omfg, i feel like he'd be a little awkward with it at first, not rly sure what to say, but then get suuuper confident and sends u dirty shit all day long. some are artfully crafted like i crave exploring every inch of you until there’s nothing left but us, bare and breathless in the dark. and some are lewd and basic like, can't wait to fuck you, lovey dove <3

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sparklemaia · 4 months ago

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Heyyy!!

So I've recently read a lot of your comics about top surgery, and I really resonate with your experience (I haven't had it myself but I'd like to). I've recently been exploring my own gender and realising I might be non binary, but I guess I feel sort of an imposter in that I want to keep my name and pronouns (afab), despite feeling like I never got the memo about what a "woman" is, which I know is fine, but I guess I was wondering how the shift from your agab into realising you were nb felt?

Like, you seem to describe your gender as sort of unknowable and indefinable, and I guess that's sort of how I feel? I just want to be... More me. I guess what I'm really asking is, how would you define/feel about that shift into realising you were nonbinary, do you still feel connected to your agab, how do you reconcile the two?

Sorry for the long ask!

Hi, this is such a good question! I actually DO still feel pretty connected to my agab. I feel like I am a girl but also more than a girl but also not enough of a girl, simultaneously. (Weirdly, I never ever feel like a woman, and definitely not a man, but I do feel like an adult at least some of the time.) Top surgery was 100% the right decision for me; my body feels so much more correct and I am grateful every single day this procedure was accessible to me. (I was on a low dose of T for a year and a half too, and I basically just got biceps and a sliiiightly lower voice out of it. We stan.) I simply don't have strong feelings about how these things do or do not map onto gender identity or other people's perceptions of my gender. I am generally perceived as female, and that's fine! Like, close enough! I often feel somewhere BETWEEN cis and trans, or even between cis and nonbinary, and sometimes I joke that I'm just "nonbinary for insurance purposes." I mostly use she/her pronouns, although won't object to they/them. I like my "feminine" name -- I chose it myself years ago for reasons unrelated to gender and I have no plans to change it again. In terms of gender presentation I'm usually somewhere in the "tomboy femme" zone. Basically, I've been through a medical transition but not a social transition. Which is not very common, or at least I haven't seen much representation of it! (Be the bad trans representation you want to see in the world, i guess??)

Even though the words are often used interchangeably, I feel more alliance to genderqueer as a label than nonbinary, because nonbinary feels too clinical and "third checkbox"y to me, whereas genderqueer feels more expansive and undefinable and dynamic, with space for the ways in which I both am and am not performing girlhood correctly. When pressed to pick a gender word for myself, that one feels the closest. But if I'm filling out a government form or whatever? Yeah sure F is fine.

A lot of where I land with this stuff, though, is just kind of relaxing my grip on language. Top surgery was a relief, it helped me feel present in and connected to my body. Ultimately it doesn't matter much to me how much of that was *gender* dysphoria and how much of it was just... something I wanted, a way to make my body feel more like mine, to align my mental image of myself with the thing I had to stuff into clothes and walk around the city every day. I believe very strongly in bodily autonomy, and in making our lives as easy and comfortable and joyful as we can for ourselves, without needing to have a clean and tidy explanation for our choices. It is very possible to know with reasonable certainty that you want something, that it will be a net positive for your life, without being able to articulate, even to yourself, WHY you want it. It doesn't need to have a bigger meaning than ahh yes, this feels right. At this point in my life, I'm more invested in marveling at the sheer improbability of my own existence than in wedging myself into the taxonomy of known and acceptable gender narratives. I'm just a person, here for the merest twinkle of a moment in cosmic history, making soup and knitting baby hats and admiring bugs and singing off-key and cutting my own hair and doing my gosh darn best to light my tiny patch of night sky with stories so that you (and you, and you) feel less alone on your own journey through the unfurling dark. Gender is just such an inconsequential detail in the narrative of my life, and pretty open to reader interpretation anyway.

Not having to wear bras is pretty great though ngl

#genderqueer #what even is gender #gender stuff #lgbtq #nonbiary #transmasc #queer #top surgery #gender transition #trans #sparklemaia answers

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edenesth · 11 months ago

Text

The Key Keeper

Pairing: royal guard!Mingi x keykeeper!reader

Word Count: 1.3k

ATEEZ Masterlist

"Mingi, you're injured!"

Your eyes widened in horror as the head of the royal guard shielded you from an oncoming arrow, taking the hit in his back. Gritting his teeth, he reassured, "I'm fine. You go first; I'll catch up with you soon."

Panicked tears welling up, you shook your head and protested, "No, how can I leave you behind?!"

He softened at the sight of your tears, realising that your distress hurt him more than the arrow in his back. To assure you, he smirked teasingly, "What's this? Are you worried about me? I thought you hated me."

Clenching your fists, you resisted the urge to hit him, "Stop, this isn't funny! We need to get out of here together!"

Against his better judgement, he cupped your face and pressed his forehead against yours, "Listen to me, you're the royal key keeper, and these keys should be your top priority. Protect them with your life, and I'll protect you with mine," His heart ached as he saw your teary eyes tremble, "I promise I'll be there with you before you know it. Now go."

Left with no choice, you clutched the palace keys tightly and ran as you were told. Your heart broke as you threw one final, painful glance back at Mingi to see him forcing himself back onto his feet.

Everything happened so quickly. Just moments ago, he had approached you at your workstation, clad in full armour.

"Why are you here, Song Mingi? Don't you have better things to guard?" He rolled his eyes at your sarcasm, "In case you missed the memo, word got out that the pirates are heading for the King's blade."

Your eyes widened at the revelation, "The King's blade? Are they out of their goddamned minds? How ambitious can these fools get?"

He sighed, "As much as I agree with you, we don't have time for idle chatter. We need to secure the blade and move it to a safer location. On your feet now, keykeeper."

Shaking your head in disbelief, you hurriedly gathered all the keys that held access to every corner of the palace, following him as you both navigated a secret passageway leading to the King's treasury.

Just for now, you had to set aside your disdain for Mingi. Despite being longtime rivals in your respective roles – him holding the highest position among male palace staff and you, his female counterpart – the urgency of the situation demanded cooperation. While he focused on the palace's security, your responsibility lay in safeguarding all the keys.

You did your best to remain civil, but his incessant commands were testing you, "Could you move a bit more quietly? It's almost as if you're trying to tell the whole world where we are." He hissed, shooting a frustrated glare in your direction.

Suppressing the urge to retaliate physically, you scoffed, well aware that engaging in a physical confrontation would be futile given his status as the strongest guard in the entire palace, "If my presence is such a burden, why not assign someone else to guard me? You could be safeguarding the King himself, but no, here you are..."

He halted suddenly, causing you to collide into his back with a yelp, "Hey! Why'd you—" Your words were cut short as he turned around, casting you an intimidating gaze, "Wishing the general was here with you, huh? Dream on; he's happily married."

Your jaw hung open at his victorious smirk as he continued on his way. Battling the surge of embarrassment, you reminded yourself that your crush on the renowned general was merely a passing infatuation. After all, he was currently deployed in the war zone, accompanied by his devoted wife.

How dare Mingi bring up that old crush? It was just innocent admiration, and you certainly weren't the only one captivated by the formidable military leader.

Before you could reprimand him for his unprofessionalism, the unexpected attack unfolded. It all happened in the blink of an eye; the only memory etched in your mind was him swiftly wrapping a protective arm around you, turning you away just as he jolted from the impact of an arrow piercing his back.

Now, tears streaming down your face, you fought the urge to run back to him. The sight of him being hurt affected you more than you had anticipated. You never knew you would ever be capable of feeling this way for him, considering how you were constantly at each other's throats for as long as you could remember.

He always found a way to get on your nerves, and you couldn't stand the sight of him. So, it bewildered you why your chest now throbbed with worry for him. Perhaps, in the face of his sacrifice, you realised that there was more to your daily banter than met the eye.

If only you knew how much jealousy flowed through the royal guard's veins whenever he thought about your stupid crush on the general, how much he enjoyed watching the fire in your eyes during your endless silly exchanges, and how much it scared him to think about the danger you were in when he found out about the pirates.

Yes, he could have assigned someone else to protect you, but he didn't trust anyone to keep you safe. The mere thought of anything bad happening to you before you were aware of his affection haunted him. He couldn't fathom forgiving himself for such a failure.

When he saw the genuine concern you displayed for him, a glimmer of hope kindled within him. Perhaps, hidden beneath the surface, you felt the same.

Before reaching you, Mingi made sure to eliminate every single trespasser; he would die before allowing any of these imbeciles near you. A sigh of relief escaped him as he recognised that these were merely amateur pirates; the situation might have taken a perilous turn if the notorious pirate king had been involved. Fortunately, the captain wasn't foolish enough to attempt robbing royalty.

"Hey, it's safe now. You're safe."

Springing up from your crouched position, you dropped the keys in your hands without a second thought, rushing to throw your arms around the royal guard's neck as soon as he entered the treasury. He held you close and wondered if you could sense the rapid beating of his heart.

You sobbed miserably against his shoulder, "You idiot, you could've died out there!"

He chuckled, feeling his heart melt at your worry, "Why? Would you miss me if I was gone?" The question left you momentarily silent, prompting you to pull away slightly and face him.

"I..." You blinked rapidly, attempting to change the topic, "H-how's your injury?"

Dismissing your concern, he shook his head, holding you firmly when you tried to check his back, "I told you I'm fine; my armour shielded me. I'm not hit directly."

"But still—"

Cupping your face with both hands, he made you look at him, "Stop pushing me away! I'm in love with you, okay?" Your movements stilled, and he reached to wipe away the tears you shed for him.

Frowning, you protested, "That's a lie... if you were, why'd you annoy me all the time?"

He broke into a smile, "I thought it'd be the only way to get your attention."

You scoffed, "Well, that's just stupid."

He grinned, retorting, "But it worked, didn't it? You can't fool me; I know you care about me too."

Left speechless, you felt your heart race when he leaned closer. Your breath hitched as your noses touched, and he whispered, "I was afraid of losing you."

You nodded in defeat, finally admitting, "Me too, Mingi. Me too."

That was all the confirmation he needed. Without hesitation, he finally kissed you, just as he had wanted to for so long.

While you were engulfed in each other's embrace, some of the royal guards arrived just in time to catch both of you in a flustered state, grinning knowingly. Unbeknownst to you, the entire palace staff had been placing bets on the two of you all along. It appeared that everyone would have a lot to celebrate soon.

✨ Bonus ✨

"You know, you may be the keeper of all palace keys, but I'm the only one with the key to your heart."

"Oh, shut up, Mingi."

Aaaand that's a wrap! Hope the final part's decent! Also, damn, Mingi's been wrecking me lately like what the actual frick. Man definitely knows what he's doing to us.

From the bottom of my heart, thank you for reading every part of this series! Do let me know which member's part is your favourite! Don't be shy, I'd love to hear all about it!🤭

Tag list: @aurasblue @marievllr-abg @itsvxlentine @minghaoslatina @huachengsbestie01 @evidive

#edenesth #ateez crazy form #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #song mingi #ateez mingi #mingi x you #mingi x reader #ateez fic #mingi drabble #ateez drabbles #ateez imagines #mingi imagines

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nap-thym3 · 4 months ago

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Sebastian Solace(Pressure) x Reader/Self-Insert, Pt. 2

I actually turned that one-shot into a fic, so If you’d like to see more, I’ll be posting new updates on my ao3 :)

____________

The churning of the ocean, once a peaceful melody you may’ve played as white-noise, is now something that haunts your every waking breath. You can hear it even now. The whooshing of the currents, the bellowing of unseen gargantuan beasts, and the creaks and groans of the facility around you bending and bowing to the pressure of the torrential waters right outside.

Cautiously, you turn to survey the room surrounding yourself. The constant, oppressive darkness outside the thick windows doesn’t help your ramping unease. The idea that anything can be lurking in the inky depths, laying in wait for you to lower your guard. Watching, surveying. Hunting. Your palms sweat as your finger nails dig crescent imprints into your flesh. Every shuddering groan of the structure feels like another nail in your coffin. Darkly, you wonder just how many rooms- no, entire floors, have completely succumbed to the will of the sea by now. You can’t help but feel helpless, every avenue of your mind overtaken by the countless ways your life can be so quickly and effortlessly snuffed out.

What’s there not to be terrified of?

You scoff quietly. When you’d signed up for this gig, there was nowhere in the contracts explaining where exactly you’d be going. If you’d known the horrors residing in these waters, of being helplessly trapped thousands of feet where not even the sun can reach… you may’ve been a touch more hesitant to apply. Or who knows, maybe being confined to the same four-walled cell would’ve drove you here regardless. There was no point on dwelling on the millions of ‘what-ifs’. Your life was already considered forfeit, UrbanShade knew it, Sebastian knew it- hell, even the monsters knew so! It was only a matter of time before you were either swallowed whole, imploded, or drowned. The only one who seemed unable to get the memo was you.

You sigh, massaging your temples in a circular motion in an attempt to mitigate the encroaching migraine. There was no point in marinating in your own existential dread, you wouldn’t give UrbanShade nor its residents the satisfaction of breaking you. You’ve spent near your entire life bottling feelings up, old habits were hard to kick and you certainly weren’t going to try stopping them now.

A little more put together than a moment prior, you continue your journey. You were going to die soon. Maybe not right this second, but your chances of survival were incredibly slim, and you’d never considered yourself lucky or partial to gambling. The truth was plain and simple, inevitable. You were expendable and that was okay. It had to be. It must be. It will be.

Yawning, you passed through yet another sad-beige room. You must’ve opened twenty- no, maybe more like thirty doors?? Possibly??? Anyhow, point was, it was quiet. Disconcertingly so. The ambient hum of the overhead lights droning on had been slowly chipping away at your resolve. It was worrying how long you’ve gone without encountering any threats. Suspicious, even. Not once had you needed to make a detour, or find a key-card to progress. Rifling through the numerous desks in this zone hadn’t provided anything particularly useful either. Aside from the occasional ‘loose asset’ or two that you know The Merchant would be glad to take off of your hands. Oh, and a flash beacon! Though it was all-in-all a pretty lukewarm score. Regardless, you clipped the light-source onto your utility belt. You doubt you’d ever actually need it- not when you have your trusty flashlight and more batteries on hand than you could possibly ever need( Sebastian had given you an exponentially cheap price for those. Claiming it was more profitable to ‘sell them in bulk’ ). The monotonous repetition of pilfering office cubicles was mind-numbing, and you were sick of it.

Feeling frustrated, your pace quickens to that of a jog. Logically, you know you should be conserving your energy. It was reckless to be blindly racing through these halls, but you just couldn’t stand it anymore. If you had to die soon, so be it. But you weren’t going to just sit there like an appetizing bucket of chum and wait for death to come to you. You’d go down kicking and screaming.

Without you noticing it in your rising panic, your modest jog had turned into a run, and before you knew it, you were flying through rooms. Each one a never ending blur of the same layout. Cubicle, desk, door. Cubicle, desk, door. Cubicle, desk- chair? Chair!

Abruptly, you’re sent careening off-balance by an errant swivel-seat. When had that got there?Thankfully, you land on your side, the brunt force of your tumble distributing throughout your body evenly instead of in one specific location. Your expiration date could’ve been that much sooner if you’d somehow managed to break a bone. Stunned(kind of like how toddlers freeze before realizing if the situation calls for a meltdown or not), you remain curled in a fetal position on the floor, chest heaving with exertion. Remember when you said you weren’t an athletic individual? Yeah, that wasn’t an exaggeration.

A strangled wheeze erupts as you inch your hands up to your face, muffling your sounds of misery as pain ricochet’s throughout your body. It’d be one thing to land on carpet- but fuckity fuck, concrete?? Yeowch. God, you were so pathetic. This isn’t even the worst pain you’ve endured during your stay at the black-site. Maybe it was just your exhaustion, but all that big inner-monologuing over accepting your fate on your own terms and all that other melodramatic bogus- only to epically face-plant so soon afterwards? Ugh. Embarrassing. You lay motionless in a limp pile of limbs on the floor, gasping for air like a fish on land.

Slowly, you drag a palm down over your sweat-slicked face, before you rolling onto your front. Your ribcage digs into your organs, but you endure for the moment. Now that you’re not actively moving, you have a moment to catch your breath and scatter the panicked, adrenaline-filled haze that had clouded your mind.

As you lay there on the steadily, increasingly uncomfortable, hard floor; chin perched on your crossed arms, and epiphany strikes through you. This whole time, you’d been brainlessly pressing forward. Assuming there to be only the one way through. But when had this place ever been so simple? Perhaps all you needed was a new matter of perspective.

Just as the thought crossed your mind, your gaze snags on a vent-grille a little ways ahead of you. Similar in design to that of the ones you usually traverse through to visit Sebastian. Oh. Sebastian.

Thinking of the fish-man now, you’re filled with melancholy. Would he be upset if you just… didn’t return? The idea of Sebastian waiting for you to visit again but you never returning leaves a heavy feeling in your stomach. No, you couldn’t imagine him being so easily rattled by your disappearance, no matter how much you’d selfishly hope him to be. The more likely scenario, on the other hand? He probably wouldn’t even notice. The constant ebb and flow of UrbanShade volunteers was sure to prevent people like you from occupying his mind for any longer than necessary. And yet, even still knowing that the shopkeep realistically didn’t hold you in the same regard… you crave to be curled by his side. Goofing off and trading quips, stealing a few precious moments to yourself to pretend that everything was okay. Your brows up-turn, features scrunching not only in physical pain, but internal pain too. You had it bad. Whether it was a case of simply pack-bonding to the nearest individual, or (hopefully) something more akin to genuine connection remained yet to be seen.

Heartbeat no longer thudding in your chest, you rise up on scuffed knees, mildly cringing at the bloodied and torn fabric of your wetsuit. Without anymore fanfare, you crawl into the vent. Through a few winding turns you’re quickly spat out into, finally, a new room. Bouncing onto your feet, the heavy blast-door slides open, and you’re greeted by your typical scene rather than the looping office-space. You don’t waste anytime jumping through the frame, only twisting around in surprise when the door hurriedly slams closed. Well that’s odd, the doors normally stay open, no?

Confused, you watch as the screen, typically presenting the previous room’s number, is instead displaying a pixelated “>:(“

You incredulously snort, unsure how to proceed.

Deciding to err on the side of caution, you timidly shuffle before the entry-way.

“Hello?” You greet, yet it sounds more like a question. Honestly, you felt pretty ridiculous calling out to a door of all things.

The screen goes blank, nothing but a red, blinking cursor remaining stationary. What the fuck? Was someone actively hacking the screens? But why? How?? Were they friend or foe? Unsure, you wave a hand before the display. The cursor doesn’t move, nor do any new messages appear. A little perturbed, you rub your weary eyes. Was it a trick of the light? Or maybe a malfunction? Whatever the case may be, your intuition doesn’t like it. So far, it hasn’t led you astray. Wearily, you turn away from the peculiar door.

Walking down the corridor, you’re surrounded once again by thick plexiglass-glass. This time, however, it doesn’t just stop at little viewing windows. No, everything but the floor beneath your feet and the ceiling above was made of the same reinforced glass. You sway on your feet, suddenly nauseous and feeling entirely too exposed. You can feel your vision tunneling, everything except for the door ahead of you blurring out of focus like a low-resolution camera.

You feel as if you’re walking on a tight-rope, one step away from falling into the oppressive darkness on either side of you. Shakily, you try to focus your breathing. In and out. Concentrate on pulling oxygen. In and out .

So focused on what’s in front of you, you fail to notice as a sickly green light begins filter through the darkness.

Behind yourself, the odd little screen flickers back to life.

“Goodbye :)” It reads.

Sebastian, ever on the move, didn’t stay in one place for too long. Sure, there were a few, self-made outposts he frequented where he felt confident no friends would interrupt his business dealings. But he couldn’t rely entirely on the bumbling ex-convicts UrbanShade ‘hired’ to retrieve the information he sought. No, it was best that if he wanted things to get done right , he shouldn’t shuck the entirety of the workload onto the fools who didn’t even care for their cause. Which was exactly what he was doing.

His frequent routes through the complex weren’t typically above-ground. Neither did he rely too heavily on traversing through water. He was sore to admit it, but despite his genetic ‘enhancements’, there were much bigger fish than him lurking about the complex. Ones that didn’t bargain, nor were they nearly as susceptible to the ways of persuasion as humans were. No, just like him, his fellow test-subjects were nearly all carnivorous in nature. They all hungered so deeply, so ravenously that they rarely deigned to even take a moment to consider before lunging. No amount of shared trauma or sympathies were greater than the hollow of their stomachs. Sebastian’s expression sours.

His current path took him through the utility tunnels, a labyrinth of narrow, concrete halls that he had mapped out over countless excursions. Here, he was less likely to encounter any unwelcome reunions that roamed the more typical halls. His movements were swift and silent, honed by years of surviving in this underwater hellscape.

Body on auto-pilot, Sebastian’s thoughts drifted to you, as they so often did these days. Especially so since your last visit. Sebastian’s chest warms as he recalls the way you’d looked(admired, really) at him. As if he were anything but a monster. Of how you had called him pretty. How stupidly sincere you were, refusing to backtrack as any other sane person in your shoes would do- even as he gave you ample time to do so. He curses his tender heart, maybe the only part of him left that was well and truly human. Most days he wishes that the scientists who swapped his organs and irreparably altered his body would’ve taken his heart too. It certainly would’ve made things a lot easier.

As his mind circles back to you, a small flicker of concern breaches through the current of his thoughts. You were stubborn, he’d give you that, but how long could you really last down here? He knew UrbanShade’s plans, their blatant disregard for human life- er, life in general. Everyone down here was expendable, a pawn in their grand plan. He didn’t want to admit it, but he had grown… accustomed, of your visits. Of your banter and your resilience. It’s been so long since someone’s looked at him and seen anything else other than a ghastly experiment. You spoke with him, really spoke with him, not just at him. Plus, you didn’t even mind his crass attitude- hell! You even matched it more often than not. Most others in your place wouldn’t dare to rebuke his snark. In a cruel place devoid of connection, you were a rare exception.

He shook his head, clearing away any residual gooey ‘sentiments’. Sentimentality was a weakness he couldn’t afford. He had a mission, and attachments would only complicate things. Still, as he navigated the dark passageways, he couldn’t shake the tentative hope of being able to see you again. Wouldn’t that be nice?

There’s a great bellow somewhere above, undoubtedly from that of the ‘eyefestation’. It was one of the more ‘tame’ byproducts of the black-site’s experiments. Well, as tame as anything down here could be. It was sentient, for a start. Sebastian wasn’t sure by how much exactly, and didn’t particularly care- nor had the time to find out. What was important was that it was free of its enclosure now, all thanks to him.

Poor thing, it’s always been easily picked on by the humans. With a long, suffering sigh, Sebastian once again curses his bleeding heart. Soundlessly, he makes a detour to the upper levels.

#roblox #pressure #Sebastian Solace #sebastian solace x reader #fanfiction

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eagle-of-the-zones · 4 months ago

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@xenon-moth I got a free home at https://www.tumblr.com/join/uQbB0yB7 spread the word!

#mcr #danger days #tlotfk #memos from the zones #my chemical romance #killjoy rp

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cordidy · 29 days ago

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Grieving...

The LaDS men helping you after Josephine and Caleb's fake death (cause he definitively is "shady guy" idc).

I took the part of not dating cause I wanted some friendly comfort and since Zayne is a chilhood friend I assumed he would be more present than the others, hence his is longer (😏🤭)

TW : mention of death, funeral

Featuring Zayne, Xavier, Rafayel and Sylus.

English is not my mother tongue.

- Zayne was in surgery when the explosion happened and it's only a couple of hours after you got admitted to Akso's ER, when he got back to his office to relax, that he got the memo as your physician.

- He spends the night by your side, refusing to move until you wake up and holds your hand the next day when the police comfirms they did not find any remains in the rubble of the house.

- The man will be HERE for you all the way down, moving onto your couch the moment he brought you back home. While he can't clear his bussy schedule, his free time will be dedicated to you, making sure you get healthy meals, rest and all the support you need but also leaving you space of needed.

- Zayne is very organized so wether it's the paperwork with the insurance or the funeral organization he will help and will even step up to take decisions when you mentally can't.

- He's madly in love with you but won't try anything innapropriate in your weaken state, going as far as gently push you away when you try to hit on him one night just to feel something else than the despair you've fallen into.

- "Not like this" he will whisper as you try to kiss him before breaking down in his arm. He will hold you while carressing your hair to try and sooth you thou, kissing your forehead gently, lulling you to sleep with sweet words.

- The day of the funeral he stands by your side, holding your hand tight to remind you you are not alone, your fingers intertwined being the only thing grounding you.

- On the following weeks he will abuse his prerogative as you physician to check your tension and run tests to make sure you are not letting yourself drown in sorrow. Dropping by you place after work will also become a habit and he won't hide the fact IT IS to check up on you, no shit given at the side eye you give him while he is cooking you dinner instead of instant noodles.

- Xavier finds out when the news reaches the Association.

- He will volunteer to bring you flowers and condoleances on behalf of your coworkers and will offer to drive you home when you get discharged from the hospital since you are neighbors.

- He will find ANY occasion to show up at your door. "I ran out of sugar" "do you have hot water ?" "The delivery guy (he bribed) gave me your package" all of these just to check on you without saying it out loud cause he knows you don't like people seeing you in a weak state.

- He will barely get sleep as he wants to be sure he won't miss your knock on the door when you'll start doing the same just to not be alone with your thoughts.

- It will become a habit for you to fall asleep on his couch whihe watching a movie to try and change your mind since your place, so full of memories, will become unbearable. His place will turn into your sanctuary even when he is at work as he gave you a spare key.

- After the funeral, once you're back to work, he will always offer to train together whenever he sees that look in your eyes, just to keep you busy and will start to do some overtime (mainly in the firm of sleeping at his desk) so he has an excuse to walk home with you.

- Whenever one of your friend come to visit and he knows he had a couple hours he will take the opportunity to turn the N109 zone upside down, looking for intel

- Rafayel heard about the explosion on the news, like everyone else but did not realize you were involved so, when you did not answer his messages for the past 3 days (cause you were at the hospital) he got pretty annoyed at being ignored, spaming your phone with complains.

- One evening, he shows up at your door unannounced, all pouting and whinning, thinking the bruises on your face are from another "stupid mission" and it's the reason you didn't show up to his last exhibition when he "really needed you to protect me from all these snobs !"

- "You obviously don't care about me or your job as a Bodyguard ! I could have died over the past 3 days and you wouldn't care" He complains dramatically, not expecting you to snap at him (very poor choice of words from his part thou !) and break down in tears, telling him how immature he is, that the world doesn't revolve around him and you don't want to see him again before slapping the door to his face.

- Thomas is the one telling him what happened when he reads about the upcoming funeral in the news and Rafayel is mortified. He shows up at your doors with flowers and when you tell him you don't want them he stops you "they are for your family..."

- He will spend all his nights on the phone with you, talking about everything, listening to you cry or just being there and won't hang out until you fall asleep (also answering on the first ring whenever you call him back if you had a nightmare)

- Sylus is not around at that time but that doesn't mean he doesn't know someone is trying to frame his organization and himself for the explosion. He will remain in the shadows thou while trying to find out who did it.

- Not being involved with you yet, it's not really about you but more about "fuck around and find out" to him.

- Luke and Kieran will attend the funeral discretly to keep an eye on the survivor and see if anything suspicious happens.

- You also start noticing strange little trinkets left here and there, a little coin, a shinny rock, a pretty leaf....

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frostyhelltime · 6 months ago

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Good morning/afternoon! Love your work so much! Could you write what reactions Vox, Alastror and Lucifer (my favorote trio haha) would have when they first realise they have feelings for someone? Like, they are not dating yet, they just got first "o sh*t" moment while eating breakfast or something.

Sorry this took so long! ❤️ Alastor's got COMPLETELY away from me and did not end up being as small as Lucifer and Vox, so I'm gonna give Alastor his own post which you can find HERE.

And thank you!! You're so kind and I hope you like my writing for this as well! I had a lot of fun so feel free to send more requests! ❤️

Vox and Lucifer Realize They Have Feelings For You

Vox x GN!Reader

Lucifer x GN!Reader

Vox

Vox genuinely confuses his feelings of love with simple lust and friendship for the longest time.

It's his possessive nature that helps him realize it's actual feelings instead of just something sexual he wants.

Plus a little ribbing from Valentino and Velvette when that possessive nature shows.

Whether you've had sex with him or not yet is irrelevant. He thinks what he feels for you is just lust, and you get along well and don't frustrate him like his cohorts often do. So obviously he enjoys having you by his side and spending time with you.

But it's Valentino's pushing and prodding that makes him realize, and as soon as he does actually realize it, he goes into planning mode.

Vox wasn't always the biggest fan of the loud club the trio found themselves at, but the music was a little quieter in this VIP section away from the crowds. Which made it a lot easier to actually relax with the drink in his hand as he listens to Valentino chatter about something he's only half listening to until he says your name.

He thinks perhaps Val hadn't noticed, but the way Vox's eyes clearly focused in on Valentino when they hadn't been before says everything, and Vox decides not to comment on the shit-eating grin the moth is wearing.

"Sorry. What did you say about them?" He asks for clarification, since all he actually zoned back in for was your name.

“They're very beautiful, no? I think I'll ask them to star in something. I already have a script that would be perfect for the-” Val is about to continue talking about it when Vox immediately snaps, posture becoming rigid as he speaks before he can even realize what he's saying.

“Fuck no Val.” His face has a look of genuine disgust and the visceral way he responded even has Velvette looking up from her phone for a moment, especially after hearing the distortion in his voice. She's eyeing him to try and figure out what the reaction was for.

Valentino only blinks a few times as if processing actually being told no, and then trying to figure out why. But as soon as it hits him the befuddled expression turns to one of delighted bemusement, snickering as he grinned saliciously at Vox.

“Oh~ I didn't realize you had a little amorcito you were hiding from us.” Valentino sounds so smug as he uses his long cigarette to tilt Vox's face up to see him better. Velvette just snorts a laugh, putting her phone down fully now. This was far more entertaining.

But Vox still didn't get the memo yet apparently.

“Amor…? What. No. We're not dating. I have no idea what you're talking about but you're not asking them to star in one of your flicks.” Vox says concretely even though he's very confused by Valentino's suggestion, pushing the cigarette away from his face in annoyance. Velvette just raises an eyebrow, locking eyes with Val as if to silently ask if their companion was truly this dumb. At least in this area. Val just shrugs and Vox watches this silent exchange, just becoming more vexed by it.

“What?! I can't say someone is off limits?!” He's quickly getting annoyed by the way they're both acting.

“Oh no no. You can ask for someone to be off limits….but no one asks for just anyone to be off limits.” Velvette explains, trying to lead this horse to water, trying to coax his line of thinking in the right direction.

“Well duh. They're great company and I don't want Val or his people ruining that.” Vox says coolly, trying to reel himself back in to maintain his composure.

“Oh, so it's just Val and his lackeys you don't want being intimate with them? Then it should be fair game for me to throw my hat in the ring, yeah?” Velvette asks, tilting her head cockily, a knowing smirk on her face. She didn't actually want to pursue you. She was just baiting him.

"We'd be the cutest couple on Sinstagram don't you-"

But Vox is immediately snapping, taking said bait without even realizing.

“No!”

Another, heavier voice distortion colors the word.

“So it's anyone being with them that pisses you off? That sounds like a genuine crush, not just ‘great company’, campañero~” Valentino takes another drag of his cigarette before taking another sip of his drink, adjusting the busty demon currently sitting on his lap to be his eye candy and thing to squeeze tonight.

Said demon is pointedly avoiding all of their eyes, as if to silently tell them she doesn't hear shit and she won't be repeating anything she hears herself. She values her afterlife enough to know to not mention this to anyone.

Vox’s expression goes through multiple stages, indignation, surprise, confusion, amusement, disbelief, annoyance, and eventually…

“...Holy shit.” He eventually whispers leaning back in his seat, eyes wide as Velvette claps.

“Theeeeere it is! Knew you'd get there eventually.” She snickers, as well as Val, both ignoring the pointed glare Vox was sending them now.

He's not even going to bother dignifying it with a response. He wouldn't give them the pleasure.

For now he just leans back further, grumpily folding his arms and continuing to sip his drink as he thinks.

Now that he's aware he can figure out what to do. Like there is anything to figure out anyway. He's charismatic and rich and powerful. What sinner wouldn't want to be the one to earn his affections? With that certainty in his mind at least, he loosens up a little, relaxing. Surely he can approach you tomorrow. For now he'll just relax here, and let Velvette and Valentino have their silly little laugh while they can enjoy it.

Lucifer

He's the fastest to realize.

Partially because he's actually been in love before so he's familiar with the feeling.

But he's also the first to panic because of it, wondering what Charlie will think.

Their relationship was just beginning to rebuild itself and he's scared about what such a big change would do to what he's rebuilt so far.

He most likely realizes when he's talking to Charlie actually.

Charlie is talking about how much she loves Vaggie, how everything reminds Charlie of her, or how if she sees something wonderful her immediate thought is that she wants to bring Vaggie there.

She's just talking about how she just loves Vaggie so much she just wants to share everything with her, boring and exciting!

And that is when it clicks for him, eyes widening.

“And despite the people of Cannibal Town being…interesting…They have amazing gardens and a gazebo and I can't wait to surprise Vaggie with a date there!” Charlie is talking at the typical fast pace she does when she is immeasurably excited, Lucifer just grinning and nodding along and just enjoying her sharing news about her life with him. There was so much he felt he still didn't know about his daughter and he was very eager to make up for lost time.

“And I heard this amazing new song that made me think of her! It went something like….Oh how did it go...?” Charlie trails off before attempting to sing what words she did remember.

“Or something like that! Anyways! Ugh I even love just sitting next to her while I write out new trust exercises!” She gushes, clasping her hands together as she continues to wax poetic about Vaggie. Others in the hotel didn't really care or were just tired of hearing it, and Lucifer wanted to spend time with her regardless of what they spent the time doing. So it made sense she would gush about her wonderful girlfriend to her dad, who patiently and happily listened to almost anything she wanted to talk about.

At some point during this monologue that he nodded and made noises of acknowledgement during, he stiffened, eyes widening as he realized the parallels between Charlie and himself that he hadn't really thought about before now.

Whenever he saw a pretty part of Pentagram City, his first thought was to show you. When he tried a new restaurant, his thought afterwards was always ‘Good enough to take you there.’ or ‘Not good enough to take you there.’ He adores the time when you're just sitting next to him, reading a book, or drawing, or whatever strikes your fancy that day as he toils away at his latest invention. He just enjoys…existing with you, even if no one is talking. Even mundane things like what he did that morning are things he finds he wants to share with you…he hears songs of love and happiness and his thoughts drift to you without even realizing until the song is over. If all of those things are things Charlie feels about Vaggie…then…

Fuck.

When did this even happen?! At what point did you turn from just a delightful part of his day to a required part of his day? How long has he had these feelings?! Why didn't he realize he had these feelings?!

Okay! No need to panic! He's been in love before. He can handle this. Right? He's the king of hell. Surely he can handle some feelings. He had been in love before!

…Except back then it had been completely obvious the feeling was reciprocated because they literally fell to hell together.

He's still panicking a little inwardly but…perhaps Charlie could help with some suggestions? He doesn't really know if he trusts anyone else to ask them that vulnerable of a question. To expose a weak point a sinner could gleefully take advantage of, to put you in harm's way. He also trusts you of course, but for obvious reasons he can't discuss that with you.

He realizes in his panicked internal monologue he's missed a good chunk of what Charlie has just said, and she realized it too, judging by the concerned look on her face.

“Dad? You in there?” She asks, leaning over him and waving a hand in front of his face to try and grab his attention, smiling when his eyes focused back on her.

"Whew! Thought I lost you there!" She laughs, shoulders relaxing now that he seems to be okay.

“Yes! I'm right here CharChar! Uh. Actually…now that I think about it I was wondering if I could ask you about something…” He trails off, taking her arm and beginning to walk to a more secluded area of the hotel to talk.

#hazbin hotel #vox x reader #vox #ask #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer x reader

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arsnof · 6 months ago

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ArsCo Presents the Inaugural Arsnof's Great American Yard Sard Comics and Sundry Sale 2024!

Hello there! I'm Arsnof. You may remember me from content such as "Canadian Illustrator", "Dungeon Mentat", or even "Transformers Meme". I'm here today to host a celebration of buying things, thinking they're so super cool, and then putting them away and never looking at them again. Comics, books, toys, anime, manga, CCGs, rare webcomic goodies, tiny figurines of yokai, a Little Golden Book adaptation of Gremlins that ends before midnight, Chuck Norris's Karate Kommandos, can you read Japanese because I can't, official Soul Coughing stickers, a hoard of well read Wizards and Toyfares, Funko Pops, feet pics (you can get off, but only if you can correctly diagnose what's wrong first), Transformers...

I could go on forever, but I got it, you want it, we can make a deal (no tongue).

Why is this happening? I'm shit broke and getting shitter. Going down like a Trump Casino. Guy paying his bills on time? I haven't heard that name in forever.

I've been taking care of my ailing father (tried to die on us three times so far this year) and the rest of my family (I don't owe you an explanation, cop) and then someone just up and decided to make my automobile a notomobile.

They didn't have insurance, but that's okay because we have full cov-*hand to ear*-what? We don't? Only comprehensive? Since when? FUCKING shit... Okay, but we still have uninsured motorist, so-four thousand? Four thousand. Dollars. $4,000. To replace an entire ass truck.

We are in desperate need of a car. I've got a lifetime of memories. You, on average, have some change sitting around. Can I have some? I'll trade you stuff.

I'm starting with my comics because they're easiest to catalogue. See something you like? HMU, as the kids say (please God don't let that be a sex thing) and I'll see what I can do. I'm giving the comic shop at which I used to work a vague preference, but I can be swayed.

Next up will be the trades and manga, DVDs of varied origin, toys, and so on.

Criminitly.

If life can stop kicking us in the gender neutral pain zone for five fucking minutes, @paulyollyoxxenfree and I will get back to handicrafts. They're getting back into the amiguroove and I'm going to hit the pad - finish and print Kitty, start Dr. Doctor. Stickers and stuff. I'm not shaving for a while to put me in mall Santa shape by Thanksgiving.

But what if you've got too much money and you're sick of it, but you hate being given things? I take donations. If you put a special request in the memo, I won't even give you the thanks. I'll just spit. I take requests.

Papal

Cache

Fuck, I don't know, antelope? My email - [email protected]

I might make one of those kofi things.

Oh and, heheh, one more thing...

Launching in the fourth quarter 2024, ArsCo is proud to announce Alone With Arsnof, the happening new app that gives you the power to have some one-on-one time *gunshot* wit- *sudden fade to red-tinted black, gunshot echo. Sirens fade in. HE'S DOWN! OVER THERE! THE ROOF? A high-pitched whine. Bright light. The late afternoon sky comes into focus. Fireballs? The sun is so bright. Automatic gunfire. No, jets. Falling. Screams. Recognizable screams. Unrecognizable screams? Inhuman? The sun blinks*

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axelsagewrites · 10 months ago

Text

James Potter*Misunderstandings

Pairing: James Potter x f!reader

Word count: 1661

Can be read as a part two to heroic deed here

Warnings: none

Masterlist here

Being shy and friends with James Potter was already a struggle since he was anything but however you had a new issue now; you’d fallen heads over heels for him. you didn’t need a man to save you but ever since James defended you from those bullies it was hard not to like him.

Before when you walked through corridors you would get constantly shoulder checked and shoved but James had no issues shoving back and soon you found yourself being able to walk the halls without almost getting tackled.

James had also introduced you to the marauders who thankfully weren’t as intimidating as you first thought. Maybe it was because of how tall Remus was or the ladies’ man reputation Sirius had but you didn’t expect to be in a heated debate over breakfast over which magical creature would be the best at quidditch.

“You cannot be serious mate! How would a phoenix even hold a snitch?”

“Oh yeah cause a hippogriff has great dexterity!”

Remus and Sirius continued to bicker as you silently ate your breakfast. Remus was across from you next to Peter while James was sat next to you, Sirius next to him. Peter had ‘borrowed’ Remus’s homework while he was distracted, though you weren’t convincing Sirius didn’t start this conversation as a decoy, while James just laughed at his two idiot friends.

“You, okay?” he whispered, snapping you from your daze.

Shit you’d been caught staring, quickly say something, you mentally cursed yourself, “Yeah um just not a morning problem,”

“Alright sunshine I’ll leave you to daydream,” James laughed, your skin heating up at his words while he tried to buy into the argument.

You and Remus both shared your first class of the day so after the squabbling stopped you both set off to the third floor. “You ever gonna tell him you like him?” Remus asked as if he was asking for the time.

“What? Like who?” you stuttered but Remus just gave you a knowing look, “How did you know?” you sighed.

Remus snorted, a grin playing his lips, “Cmon seriously? yous hang out all the time. you should just ask him out,” he shrugged and your eyes basically bulged out your skull.

“I cant do that. He doesn’t like me like that-“

“Has he ever told you that?” he said making you stop in your tracks.

Remus eventually paused, staring at the confused look on your face, “Do you know something I don’t know?”

Remus sighed, “I know the last girl James asked out embarrassed him in front of the whole common room, which to be fair was his fault for asking so loudly,” Remus said, cringing at the memory of James proclaiming his love for lily in front of everyone and getting told a very quick no. hell even you had heard of the story, “and now he doesn’t talk about that shit anymore but if you ask me I think he does. He never shuts up about you,” Remus said, half rolling his eyes, “No offence,”

“None taken,”

All you could really think about all day was what Remus had said. James even had to ask if you were okay over dinner because how ‘zoned out’ you had been. “I need to return some books to the library,” you said, deciding to end your misery but James didn’t get the memo.

“I’ll come with. See ya,” he said, nodding to the guys and instantly getting up to follow you.

You tried your best to make small talk, but you could feel your palms getting sweatier with each word. After leaving the library you decided to finally do something about it, “Hey you busy this Saturday?” you asked, trying your best not to stutter.

“Eh I don’t think so. No detentions yet at least,” he joked, “how come?”

“Was just wondering if you’d wanna go to Hogsmeade with me?” you said, your cheeks instantly heating up like crazy.

The smile of James face though made your own heart skip, “Yeah sure. I’ll say to the guys yeah?” and just like that it sunk instantly.

“Oh yeah sure totally,”

To say your confidence had been knocked was an understatement and the whole walk down to Hogsmeade you were hanging at the back of the group trying not to show how much you were internally sulking. Yous went to honey dukes first, picking up a few bits and bobs all while Remus was giving you a sympathetic smile and James was none the wiser.

“He’s just clueless you know,” Remus whispered to you at the shelves while James went up to the till, “He probably didn’t even realise you were asking him out,”

“Or maybe he just didn’t wanna hurt my feelings,” you mumbled, instantly shutting up when James walked back. “Watcha get?”

“Chocolate frogs, of course. got you one too here,” he said passing you the frogs while Remus gave you a ‘see? told you so’ look.

Soon you all ended up piling into a booth at the three broom sticks. Remus and Peter were on one side while you, James, and Sirius squeezed into the other. Luckily you got to be on the side not against the wall however because of the tight squeeze you were pressed right into James side. There was nothing you could’ve done though, there wasn’t an empty seat in the place.

“You’d think for a magical pub they could make more seats,” Sirius scoffed as he crammed himself against the wall. “Its your turn for first round Peter,” he said.

Peter rolled his eyes, “Do you keep tabs or something?”

“Yes,” Sirius said, and it honestly wouldn’t shock you if he had it all written down in a notebook. “I’ll take a butterbeer,”

When Peter asked you what you wanted you offered to go with him to help him carry it but also as an excuse to get away from James. Peter however was glad to accept the help.

Meanwhile Remus was slapping James across the head as you walked out of sight. “You dumbass,”

“What?!” James squeaked, rubbing his head, “and ow! By the way,”

“This was supposed to be a date,” Remus half hissed making Sirius look between the two.

“Since when did you do go out?”

“We don’t,” James rolled his eyes, “what are you on about? She invited us all to come here?”

Even Sirius dropped his head into his hand at this point, “Think about what she said,” Remus sighed, “Did she say ‘you guys’ or ‘you’?”

James head tilted as he thought before a small ‘oh’ came from his lips followed by a very annoyed, “fuck!” while Remus and Sirius groaned at their friends obliviousness, “What do I do now? Should yous leave or-“

“No that just makes it weird,”

“Then what do I do?!”

“Shut up since she’s walking back here,” Sirius said, jabbing his elbow into his ribs, “Hey guys!” he said, way louder and happier than normal making both you and Peter share a concerned look.

James spent the rest of the afternoon beating himself up. He’d liked you from the first day he met you, hating that he hadn’t met you sooner and now he’d gone and fucked it up. He was distracted the rest of the day and while the group was walking back to the grounds he found himself hanging back a bit.

You noticed and decided to drop back as well, “Hey you okay?” you asked, genuine concern on your face making James’s heart melt.

“Can I ask you something?” he said giving you an odd sense of De Ja Vu, “See the other day did you mean that you wanted us all to go or like just us?” he said, voice trailing off when you looked away.

What he hadn’t expected was to see your eyes watering when you looked back, “Don’t worry about it, it was dumb and-“you began to ramble but James stopped in his tracks, grabbing your wrist making you turn to face him. “I’m sorry,”

“No, I am,” James said, stepping closer, “I was an asshole I didn’t know,” he sighed, looking at the ground, “Why didn’t you tell me you wanted it to be just us?”

You shuffled on your feet, trying desperately not to look in his eyes, “Just didn’t want you to laugh at me or something,”

James felt his heart shatter, “I wouldn’t have laughed,” he said making you finally look up from the ground, “I’m sorry,”

“It’s okay,”

“It’s not,” James sighed, staring off in the distance making you squirm in anticipation, “You busy tomorrow?”

“Um I don’t think so- “

“Great! Good great um quidditch practise ends at 2,” James said as he began to ramble, “So I’ll come get you at half 2 and we can go back to Hogsmeade tomorrow. Just us yeah?” he said, finally looking back at you with a hopeful smile.

“Like a date?” you asked, your own lips tugging into a small smile.

James grinned at your reaction, “Yeah like a real date. Without those losers,” he said making you laugh, “I wanna do it right okay?”

“Okay,” you said, “It’s a date,”

“Great,” James said, breaking out into a cheesy smile when suddenly you both heard whooping and wolf whistles behind you, “Oh fuck off,” James groaned as you began to laugh.

Sirius all but ran over, flinging his arm around James’s shoulder, “Fucking finally mate told you to just ask her,”

“You don’t get the credit for this!” Remus butted in, totally offended by Sirius’s comment, “I made this happen!”

“Nu uh,”

“Yu uh,”

As the two began to bicker you suddenly felt James take your hand. You looked at him, eyes wide but he just gave you a small smile as he tugged on your hand, leading you away from his nutcase friends. “Walk me back to my dorm?” you asked.

James grinned down at you, “Always,”

Taglist sign up here

General taglist: @strvngestark @headinfantasy @meg-ro @427120lxld @obx-josie18 @ravenmoore14 @tessakate @justtilly @jjkjbhj @clairacassidy @valeskafics @perla434 @selenestar78@urmomsgirlfriend11 @urfavnoirette @randomstory56 @qardasngan

Mauraderss Taglist: @sashadevil766 @weasleytwins-41

Heroic Deeds tags: @layla2-49

#james potter imagine #james potter x reader #james potter fluff #james potter #young james potter x reader #young james potter imagine #young james potter #mauraders imagine #mauraders x reader #mauraders fluff #harry potter imagine #harry potter x reader #harry potter fluff

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love-lilly02 · 9 months ago

Text

The Challenge pt. 5

Authors Note: this one is gonna make yall mad, i already know it. Also i think i'm gonna have to create a schedule of posting on weekends as apperently all my ideas for this story hit on fridays.

Chapter warnings:

minor character death, mentions of suicide

“You can’t do that!!”

“I can and I will.” Laswell said, closing the file. “She’s on a solo Op and that’s final.”

The boys all rolled their eyes, sighing heavily.

“Let one of us go, Las. We can’t just let her walk into the lions den-“

“Price, that’s enough. She has her assignment, you have yours.”

“But we don’t have an assignment.” Price stressed.

“Exactly.”

Another round of complaints.

You had left the room long ago, departing as soon as you had received your mission. A solo op, just an intel gathering. Get in, get the information, get out.

Get out of one of the most heavily guarded buildings in all of Russia.

What could go wrong?

“Okay, I’ll be the one to say it.” Kyle stepped up, leaning forward in his chair. “I don’t trust that she’ll be able to get out of this place. Even with her level of skill, that’s something no one’s been able to pull off without dying.”

“If you’re worried about her, you can say that you know.” Laswell said simply, raising an eyebrow.

The whole room went quiet.

“Alright, look. I don’t know what’s going on between you four and her, but get it under control. I had enough of it when you lot-“ she points to Ghost and Price-“ wanted those two-“ She points at soap and Gaz- “to join your… whatever this is. I’m not dealing with four children mooning over my best asset.”

“We are not moonin’-“ Ghost protested at the same time Price said “I thought I was your best asset?”

Laswell just rolled her eyes.

“I’ll put you boys on cam duty. How’s that?”

“It’s enough.” All the boys agreed.

You could feel their eyes on you as you adjusted your weapons for the fiftieth time. The suit they had you in was very different from the gear you normally wore, instead of cargo pants and a vest you had on a completely black bodysuit with a matching hood and shoes. Various knives and fewer guns than you would like were hidden among your body, and you kept anxiously touching them to be sure they were actually there.

You looked like the Black Widow from the Avengers. As far as you could tell, the boys thought so too, with the way they kept sizing you up.

You weren’t entirely sure if you liked that fact or not.

You knew exactly why they had chosen you instead of Ghost or Kyle for this mission- you were a lot quieter. They could think quickly and kill faster, but at the end of the day you moved around quieter, left much less noticeable tracks than they did.

This stupid challenge supported that idea.

“Keep touching ‘em and they’re gonna rust, lass.” Soap called over the comms, and you shot him a glare. For the sake of the mission- and your life- you had decided to temporarily cast aside your feelings for their last behavior, allowing them to talk to you again. Some people, like Gaz and Price, understood you would need space after what happened. Ghost and Soap, however, did not get the memo.

“She’s allowed to touch ‘em, Johnny. They’re her knives. ‘Sides, I don’t suppose knives can rust by just touching ‘em anywho.”

“Awh yea they can! I’ve seen it ‘appen me self.”

“Drop it,” Price warned.

Both boys responded with a simple, “Sorry captain,” and the helicopter was silent again.

“Okay. One more time, what are you doing?” Price couldn’t help but be nervous as your drop zone crept closer and closer.

“I get dropped off and enter through a side window, go through some rooms and get to the main center to put the information on the computer with a red chip into a flash drive.

Price nodded and ran his hand along his beard, a nervous habit you noticed he developed.

“Okay, good. The boys and I will tell you where to go and when it’s safe over comms, and-“

“Price. I’ve heard the debrief over fifteen times now. I got it.” You said, doing one more quick pat down to make sure all your knives were in order. “I trust you. Now you need to trust me.”

“Drop zone approaching!” The pilot called, and they all watched as the plane opened to reveal the darkness of the night.

“Wish me luck,” You said, pulling the hood over your head.

“Luck,” they all chorused back weakly.

And you jumped out of the plane.

Anxiety coursed through Ghosts veins as he watched you jump. A while after, thirty seconds as planned, you deployed a parachute, barely visible in the night. It was dangerous to have a black parachute in the dark but it was a risk they needed to take.

There was complete radio silence the entire time you landed. That was another rule, unless you were receiving directions or telling them something important you were to be radio silent at all times. To “make sure no one hears or picks up anything,” as Laswell said.

Ghost thought it was a load of bullshit.

Simon agreed.

Truth be told, he worried for you. Both of him did. This was something he wouldn’t be able to pull off, not even with years of training for it. And they were sending you in with less than a few hours notice?

A suicide mission.

He hadn’t asked, if this was what you wanted to do. He didn’t ask if you were okay with risking your life, possibly dying, for the “greater good.” He honestly wanted you to disagree, he wanted you to protest, say they were stupid for sending you on this mission.

But you had just listened quietly and took the file.

“At the drop zone, headed to the entrance.” Your messages were short and to the point, and he could see the others relax at your words.

“Right, stay on standby,” Ghost said, loading up the cameras.

“Copy.” Then silence.

Once he got the feed loaded he quickly scanned the cameras for you, his eyes flicking back and fourth.

“There,” Kyle said, pointing to one screen. You were kneeling behind a bunch of crates, watching the entrance carefully.

“Okay. Move left, there’s a side entrance, you might have to pick a lock or two.”

“Copy,” and you moved towards the door. They watched as you crawled, seemingly gliding across the concrete floor. Once you reached the door, it took a total of three seconds for you to slip inside.

“Door’s are locked. What’s the next move?”

“Shit, that was locked?” Soap asked, even though his comms were off.

“Suppose so. Two desks down to your right.”

And so it continued. They gave you directions and watched as you absolutely flew though the levels of the building. Till finally, you were where you needed to be.

“Okay, transferring the information.” It shouldn’t take that long, Ghost told himself. He watched as you stayed crouched behind a wall, nervously tapping on your thigh as the transfer commenced.

“Done!” They could all head the relief in your voice, even if you tried to hide it. You put the computer back where it belonged, tucking the flash drive in your pocket.

“Good job, now head out the way you came, it’s-“ Ghost stopped short when he saw two men walk into the room. They were soldiers for the enemy team, the Russian flags in the middle of their vests displaying that. To your credit, you heard the voices and stayed pointedly in place.

The two of them spoke in gruff Russian to each other, monitoring the room carefully. They were going a bit too slow, getting a bit too close for Ghost’s liking. And, based on the way Kyle was gripping his shoulder, for him too.

They kept snooping, till finally one of them jumped out into your hiding spot.

It was absolute chaos after that.

You stabbed the one who found you, using his body as a shield when the other started shooting. You fired your own shots and landed one with rough time to drop the guy you were holding and run out of the room.

By this point, multiple alarms had been tripped, and you abandoned all sense of decorum, flying down steps quickly.

“Get the fuck out of there!” Ghost yelled over comms.

Apparently that didn’t warrant a response.

The cameras he was using to track you were being taken over, and he was quickly loosing visuals.

“Mirage, do you copy?”

“Mirage, what is your position.”

“Damnit Y/N, answer me!”

But he was met with silence.

And for the first time since Las Almas, Ghost felt truly afraid.

For what it was worth, you had heard Ghost yelling over comms. And you had wanted to respond to him, but the current circumstances made that harder than you would have liked.

There were soldiers shooting at you almost constantly, and maybe about two or three snipers on other buildings. And you had about five more stories to get down, not to mention an entire parking lot- which was swarming with soldiers, you checked- and somehow get back on the evac vehicle alive.

One step at a time.

Having cleared two floors already, you burst through a nearby office, breathing out a small sigh of relief when no one occupies it. Over the comms you hear a voice saying something, but it’s Price now instead of Ghost.

“Mirage, there’s a supply drop headed your way, what’s your location?” He doesn’t sound as worried, and you can’t help but wonder where Ghost went.

“I’m hidden in an office, sir. If there was a drop there would be no way for me to reach it without being ambushed.”

You’re met with silence for a moment, before Price comes back into your ear.

“Copy that, just get to the parking lot in one piece. We’ll take it from there.”

You just roll your eyes. As if that wasn’t your plan to begin with.

The stairs seem endless as you run, down flight after flight after flight. You seriously considered taking the elevator but decided against it- they were Russian, not stupid. Once you make it to the room you entered the building through you’re throughly disappointed to find it’s occupied by a few armed guards. Nothing you couldn’t handle, so long as you went out quietly.

Carefully, you made your way behind the first one, pulling one of the longer knives out of your thigh holster. In your other hand, you slip a throwing knife, crouching silently.

It takes a good few minutes before you’re able to make a move, throwing the knife in the eye of the guard at the door before you stab the one in front of you in the neck. The other two load their guns, but you’re faster, flinging two more throwing knives across the room into their heads. You allow yourself the time to collect your knives and slip out of the door, just in time to hear more gaurds enter behind you.

Close calls that just keep getting closer.

You’re able to see the parking lot now. And as you expected, it’s absolutely swamped with enemies. There were small cracks in the defenses, however, just small enough for you to slip through if you were careful.

You stuck to the shadow of the trees, figuring darkness was your best cover. Carefully, you picked your way through the ranks of men receiving instruction, having to duck to hide behind cars multiple times. Finally, you were close enough to make a break for it and just test your luck.

And that dammed supply drop just had to show up.

Immediately, it set off widespread panic, and in the chaos one of the soldiers stumbled over to your hiding spot. Before you understood what was going on you were being hoisted up by multiple soldiers and brought into the center of a light, surrounded by angry Russians who were yelling at you in one of the few languages you couldn’t understand.

Finally, one man walked up to you and said simply, “Where is the band of coonies you work for?” He looked kind of familiar, with almost a dad bod and dark eyes to match.

“Don’t respond, that’s our target.” Price insisted, and as if he could hear him, the target looked up to your ear.

“American.” He spat out the word like a curse, and looked at you with an even nastier scowl. “A shame, you are very pretty.” He said something in Russian, and the men all raised their guns and pointed them at you.

“Wait!” You shouted, and to your surprise, the target stopped. He turned to you slowly, and raised an eyebrow, signaling for you to continue. Carefully, you moved your hand to where the flash drive hid, pulling it out. It glinted red in the bright spotlights, and the target stopped dead in his tracks.

“What is that?” He asked, stalking closer to you.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” You teased further. God you had a bad habit of teasing men. Maybe it’s what got you into these situations.

“Give it to me,” He said, practically running at you.

“Mirage, whatever you’re about to do, don’t. Do it.” Price was yelling, and you could hear the chaos of the helicopter behind you.

“Listen to me, American girl. I will give you one chance to give me that flash drive. And maybe we will let you out alive.” The target stopped a good distance away from you, holding out his hand. You just smiled.

With a flick of your wrist, the flash drive was replaced with a pin. “Over my dead body.”

And a grenade went off- right where you were standing.

Authors Note: this is completely random but i've decided to open my inbox for requests, not just COD but across all fandoms, and i'm doing a bit of blog reorganizing so i'll get to them fairly quickly (tonight that is)

also don't hate me lol the next chapter will be out next week if all goes well

My Masterlist

#cod x reader #poly 141 x reader #task force 141 x reader #poly 141 #simon riley x reader #john price x reader #simon ghost x reader #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick

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