#never thought i’d be able to build something like this and it’s not my usual style

[simspaghetti]

Now that spring has sprung it's time for a full eco-shipping-container-house tour!

Starting downstairs, there's the kitchen, living room, and the laundry room which leads through to the bathroom

[guess-my-next-obsession]

endure & survive | i. endure & survive

pairing: post-outbreak!joel miller x single mother!reader

chapter content: MINORS DNI, written in dual POV/first person POV, no description/name given to reader, reader is a single mother, age gap (twenty-ish years), grief, gun talk/threats

word count: 2.1k

series masterlist | next chapter

READER

Everything was brutal in the wild open land that used to be this country before the world as we knew it crumbled before us. 

I’d spent fifteen years in the Denver QZ before I’d had enough. Food was scarce and often tainted with mold, animal droppings, or just plain inedible. Hunting and growing food wasn’t an option either, not in the crowded, dilapidated, concrete confinements of the QZ. The powers above tended to hoard all of the fresh shit to themselves anyways and hand out the scraps as if it was a blessing rather than a betrayal of the system they were put in place to uphold. But when you’re starving, even scraps and trash become appetizing. Sickening, most often, but appetizing nonetheless. Luxuries like new clothes, fresh sheets, a decent pair of shoes, and a place to take a warm shower were non-existent. All we had was all we had. You either made do, or you took from someone else. Someone dead, or someone you planned on killing. People like me--people who couldn’t stomach the violence against my neighbors as easily as some of us--chose to just make do.

It was a miracle that I made it out of the QZ alive. 

It was even more miraculous that I’d been able to survive out here in the open for as long as I had. 

Eight years, to be exact. But I hadn’t been alone for all of it. 

I used to have a partner, someone willing to brave the unknown and dangerous at my side, until a nasty bout of pneumonia we couldn’t treat took him from me. Kit and I were as close to married as two people could be in this post-apocalyptic world, and we’d made it longer than most people did outside the supposedly safe walls of the QZ. Together, we rebuilt the dilapidated cabin nestled somewhere in Wyoming that I still call home and built a secure perimeter, shielded by thick evergreens and overgrowth. He was with me for a little under two years out here, but even though he’s gone now, a piece of him remains with me. 

Our son. 

As I lay on the threadbare mattress tucked in the corner of the open cabin and count each of Colt’s breaths, I feel a familiar pang of longing and grief. Longing for his father. Grief that he’ll never get to meet him. 

He’s six now. Just entered that stage of troublemaker and explorer and everything that would stress out any parent in a normal world. But in this world—a world where one slip up could mean the end, or worse—it’s more than stress I feel. I’m terrified. 

It’s been months since anyone has gotten close to our safe haven, and even longer since I’ve come across an infected, but the threat is always there. When Colt was younger, it was easier to manage the thought of having to pull that trigger when someone—or something—got too close. But now I worry about what it’ll do to him to have to watch me kill in order to protect us. I worry it’ll change him, mark him for a dark and violent future he should have never had to chance. 

But I’ll do what I have to do in order to keep him alive. 

I’ll trek across the entire country, chart a boat and sail to new worlds, kill and fight and give my life if it means he has the chance to live his. 

For now, though, he’s safe and sound asleep in my arms, soothed by the rise and fall of my chest as I prepare for another sleepless night. 

JOEL

The mileage is wearing on me. I know it. The pain in the ass teenager besides me sure as hell knows it, if her snarky comments about needing to find me a cane or a walker are anything to go by. 

My boots have seen better days, but it’s been that way for years now. Usually, I’d have found some way to snag a newer, less worn pair off a dead man or tucked away inside some crumbling building, but I haven’t been able to take as many chances with Ellie with me. 

We’ve already had enough encounters with danger between Boston and wherever the fuck we are now. Clickers, tyrants, and more death than either of us would like. Kansas City alone was almost enough to take both of us out. I have no desire to test our luck all for the sake of warmer feet. Besides, Ellie’s shoes are alright. No holes, no soles coming apart. If she’s good, I’ll find a way to manage. 

But there’s no denying the limp in my walk, no matter how hard I try to hide it. It’s cold as hell out here in the woods, and at my age, with my past injuries, it’s taking a toll on me. My joints scream with every step, my back aches like it’s on fire, and that’s only the physical. 

My mind is feeling the wear and tear of this journey more than I’d like to admit. I’m panicky and exhausted and paranoid as all hell, and I can’t be any of that if I want to keep us safe. 

The kid’s gotten pretty good with a gun, but given our limited ammo supply, she hasn’t gotten as much practice as either of us would like. But at least I know if it comes down to it, she’ll know what to do. I cling to the hope that she’ll never have to put that knowledge into practice, but I know better than that. She’s already had to bail my ass out more times than I’d like. 

“I can see steam coming out of your ears with all that thinking, old man,” she says as she sits across from me at the campsite we’ve claimed for the night. There’s a fire crackling between us, big enough to ward off some of this icy chill but small enough not to bring too much attention. “Whatcha thinking about?”

I heave a sigh that has little to do with her and everything to do with the fact that I’m thinking about too fuckin’ much these days. 

Safety. 

Food. 

Warmth. 

Sarah. 

“Thinkin’ how much longer I’m gonna have to put up with this twenty questions shit you like to play,” I say instead of the truth. It’s easier if she doesn’t know what’s going on in my head. She’s just a kid, whether she sees it that way or not. She doesn’t need to add my shit onto her plate. 

“Well, we’re like…what? Only a few hundred miles away from Salt Lake now?” she asks, tracing her finger over the map on her lap. “All goes well, me and my charming commentary will be out of your hair in a few weeks.” 

Doubtful, but I don’t voice that thought. I still don’t have much faith in anything related to those goddamn Fireflies, but a plan is a plan. Tess made me swear to see this thing through with Ellie, and as much as I hate the fuckers, they’re still the only people that might be able to point me in the direction of Tommy. 

“What kind of music did you listen to back in the day?” Ellie asks as she folds her map back up and into her backpack, seemingly content to move onto another subject. “Wait—no, let me guess. Something old and boring like the Beatles.”

I scoff out of amusement. “First off, the Beatles aren’t boring. But no. More of a country music guy, myself. Merle Haggard, Willie Nelson, Waylon Jennings, Marty Robbins. That kinda thing.”

She shrugs. “Never heard of ‘em.”

“They were before your time,” I say, shifting my legs so that they lay outstretched along the thin blanket I’ve got beneath me to keep the snow from dampening my clothes. “Before my time, truth be told.”

“So you just like old shit, then,” she says, and I shoot her an unamused look. 

“Y’know, it’s been about twenty years since we’ve had any new shit come out, so anything you like listenin’ to is pretty damn old, too,” I reply before tacking on, “Smartass.”

“How old’s Nirvana?”

“90’s.”

“Pearl Jam?”

“90’s.”

“Shit. What about Metallica?”

“Jesus, that’s what you like listenin’ to?” I ask, shaking my head. “No wonder you act like that.”

“Like what? Totally fucking cool and wise beyond my years?”

“Was gonna say feral, but yeah, sure,” I say, fighting a chuckle. 

Despite the exhaustion, despite the fact that I’d long since forgotten how to laugh, this kid almost brings it out of me. She’s the total opposite of Sarah, and yet I can’t help but think the two of them would get along like peas in a pod. After all, their favorite pastime is the same—busting my balls. 

“Y’should get some sleep,” I say, ending her game of twenty questions before she talks me to sleep. “Sun’s gonna be up in a few hours, and we need to get a move on. Storm’s comin’ in soon, and last thing we need is to get stuck out here in it.”

“A little breaking and entering in the books tomorrow, then?” 

“If we can manage it,” I reply with a sigh, watching her as she rolls onto her side and stuffs her backpack beneath her head like sleeping out here in the wet snow is completely normal and not fuckin’ miserable. “Y’need an extra blanket over there?”

“No, mother,” she sighs. “Youth keeps me warm. Too bad those days are long behind you now.”

I roll my eyes and look up at the dark sky, counting stars to keep myself from chuckling. “Shut up and go to sleep, then.”

READER

A crunch outside wakes me from my sleep. I’m a light sleeper at best these days, a raging insomniac at worst, but that’s what’s kept us alive this long. My ears have trained themselves to detect even the slightest of unusual noises around the cabin. Even in my sleep, I’m able to distinguish the sound of an animal crossing our land from an intruder—or worse. 

Thankfully, this doesn’t sound like an infected or a clicker. I don’t have the mental or physical energy right now to deal with a rabid creature, for lack of a better word. 

I shift my weight carefully so as to not disturb Colt as he sleeps beside me, and climb out of our bed. My boots and clothes are still on, as are his—you never know when it’s going to be time to run, and the few minutes it takes to get ready might mean the difference between staying alive and becoming a monster. Grabbing the shotgun I keep beside the bed, I carefully step across the wooden floorboards of the cabin, avoiding the loose ones I know creak under even the slightest bit of weight. I don’t need Colt waking up and asking questions. Not when I don’t know who’s waiting outside. 

All of the windows are boarded up, save for a few peepholes I intentionally left for moments exactly like these. I’d be an idiot to swing my door open without getting a peek at what waits for me on the other side, shotgun or not. Sticking my eye up to the sliver in the old wooden boards, I scan the front of the property, taking in the thick blanket of snow covering the ground and looking for footprints marring its surface. When I find none in the front of the property, I move to the window on the side of the cabin, searching there, too. 

And that’s when I see our intruder. 

A man--older than me by a decade or two--carefully scans the clearing around the cabin, no doubt searching for traps. He’s lucky he’s managed to get this far without running into any. That, or he’s simply done this enough to know exactly what to look out for. 

When he nears the side of the cabin, only a few feet from the window I’m pressed up against, I force my breath to steady and carefully move back to the front door with my shotgun cocked and in hand. I don’t give him time to find his way up the steps of the front porch--that would be too close to Colt for comfort. Instead, I slowly, silently, open the door and step out into the icy cold. Tiptoeing across the snow-damp wood, I round the corner and lift my shotgun just like Kit had taught me all those years ago, aiming directly for my intruder’s head before issuing a single, clear warning. 

“You’ve got five seconds to turn around and forget you ever saw this place before I shoot your fucking head off.”

[gh0stly-mp3]

the path to you

yukimiya x gn!reader

synopsis: you and yukimiya pass by each other every day, put suddlently you stop appearing and he gets worried

tags: fluff, yukimiya is a gentlemen, strangers to friends/lovers, can be seen as platonic

warnings: mention of illness, might have some grammatical errors

a/n: hey! just asking, would you read a mma fighter!male reader fic? been thinking about it too much. byee 🏃‍♂️ - requests are open

Yukimiya is the type of person who likes to observe the things around him, as if every detail has something special to it. After all, one day he might not be able to see anymore.

He's not sure why, but ever since he started seeing you every day, at the same time, walking the same path, something inside him became… curious. It’s not like he was looking for anyone, but you… well, you always seemed interesting.

Every day, you would pass each other by. You two never spoke, but little by little, a kind silence started to build a connection between you. Yukimiya began to look forward to that moment, the moment when his eyes would meet with yours, even if it was just for a second. You always looked down or away, but when your eyes met his, he loved it. A shy smile, maybe, something that suggested you were starting to notice him too.

Yukimiya is not the type of person to shy away from approaching someone, quite the opposite. He has always been charismatic and confident, with his confidence up high. He’d stand there, sometimes just smiling, waiting to see if your shy smile would appear again. And it always did, even if quickly, like a reflex.

Then, one morning, the unexpected happened. You weren’t there.

At first, he thought maybe you were just running late. It happened from time to time. But when the next day came, and then the next, and the next… Yukimiya couldn’t help but feel a knot in his stomach. It wasn’t like you were great friends or anything, but… your absence bothered him. The poor boy found himself looking at the spot where you’d usually be, waiting for you to show up, but nothing.

The days turned into weeks, and he tried not to think too much about it, but the anxiety only grew. It wasn’t normal, I know, but… He was really worried.

And then, after two weeks, there you were again, with that familiar gaze and the lightness in your steps. His heart jumped.

The moment your eyes met, Yukimiya couldn’t hold back anymore. He couldn’t just smile from a distance like he used to. The need to know if you were okay, to understand what had happened, overtook him.

"Hey… I know you don't know me, but we pass by each other every day. And you suddently desappeared, are you okay?" - He asked, more urgently than expected, not really knowing what he was doing. - "My name is Yukimiya, by the way".

You seemed a bit surprised, like you hadn’t expected him to approach you directly. But then, your eyes softened, and with a small laugh, you said: "Yeah, I’m fine. I… was really sick these past few weeks. But I’m better now. Thank you for asking!"

Yukimiya felt an immediate sense of relief, but something else surfaced too. A desire to… be closer. To know more for you, if I could.

"I’m glad you’re feeling better! Sorry for approaching you like this" - He smiled, feeling the conversation open up in a way neither of you expect. - "If you want, I… could invite you for coffee later, just to talk. I don't know if it sounds weird, but I wanted to know you better."

What he didn’t expect was your look, almost surprised, but also with a hint of interest. What had once been just exchanged smiles on the street now seemed to have transformed into something more meaningful.

"I’d love that!" - You replied, and that simple answer made his heart race. - "I was also kinda interested in getting to know you. Let me give you my number!"

And so, with a shared smile, you both went your separate ways. But something inside Yukimiya told him that the routine of fleeting encounters were going to evolve into something more.

[leather-n-velvet]

High & Low: Part VII

A Drew Starkey x singer/actress!oc SMAU

Summary: While on hiatus from touring and wanting to branch out with her career, Ivy Blake auditions for OBX, immediately hitting it off with none other than Drew Starkey during their chemistry read. As tension and drama brew between the two, can they get through the highs and lows that come with fame and relationships together?

A/N: Small blurb today along with the usual posts! Kind of a filler chapter. Enjoy!!!

Dividers by: @cafekitsune ⭐️🌙

Previous Part // Masterlist

Ivy was confused, to say the least. Why on earth would O*dessa be messaging her about Drew? Irritation flared inside her as she considered even opening the message.

She glanced over at Drew, who was peacefully sleeping, completely unaware of the constant thoughts plaguing her mind regarding his relationship with O*dessa. He didn’t recognize the discomfort she felt each time her name came up. It wasn’t like Ivy to be so wary of a friend of her boyfriend; she usually made a significant effort to get to know them. But something was stopping her, especially after her conversation with Madelyn just a few days earlier.

It felt as if she didn’t want to accept the possibility that her suspicions were valid, and she certainly didn’t want to confront them head-on. She knew she needed to talk to Drew about her feelings, but how could she bring it up without sounding crazy and jealous?

Ivy wanted their relationship to thrive on communication and honesty, and if she didn’t confess her feelings now, she feared she would only build a wall between them. She understood that she’d never be able to fully let him in if she didn’t start now.

Letting people in had always been difficult for her. After being played and used by too many people in her almost 26 years, she learned those lessons the hard way. This time, with Drew, she refused to let that pattern continue. She had fallen hard for him and, for the first time in her life, saw a future with someone. There was no way she could throw that away over some silly insecurities.

These thoughts kept her awake until the sun began peeking through the cream-colored curtains in her childhood bedroom, causing Drew to start stirring.

Ivy felt his arms wrap around her, pulling her to his chest and pressing a kiss to her neck. “What are you doing up so early?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” she sighed, turning in his embrace to lay across his bare chest, melting into him. “Guess I had a lot on my mind.”

His arms tightened around her. “Anything you want to share with the class?”

She chuckled half-heartedly, her heartbeat thrumming nervously in her chest. “Actually, yes. It’s about O*dessa.”

Drew stiffened. “What about her?”

“She messaged me on Instagram last night, asking me to get you to reach out to her.”

“I feel like there’s more on your mind than that.”

Ivy hesitated, feeling her hands start to shake as the fear of potential confrontation took over. She didn’t like being that girl—laying her insecurities bare and discussing her feelings. In the past, it had always led to conflict. She had a habit of bottling things up just to let them go without a fight, finding herself a human doormat. This relationship with Drew would not be like that, even if it physically pained her to go against everything she was accustomed to.

She sat up, turning to face him and occupying her hands with the hem of the threadbare t-shirt she had dug up from high school. “Um, there is. I’ve just had this feeling about her. Like there’s something off about her vibe. The whole thing with the event mix-up last week has been really bothering me.”

Drew closed his eyes, mentally battling the guilt about the situation. He had been deciding whether to tell her that the entire thing had been a setup, manufactured by none other than O*dessa herself.

“Baby, why didn’t you tell me about any of this?”

Ivy sighed, avoiding his gaze. “I didn’t want to cause any problems. I know you’re close to her, and I’d never tell you who you can and can’t be friends with, but my gut is just telling me something is off.”

“Do you not trust me?”

“Of course I do. I just think it’s her. She seems very dependent on you, and I get that, but…”

Drew noticed Ivy’s shaking hands as she started to pick at her nails—a nervous habit that usually emerged when she felt anxious or overwhelmed. It pained him to see her so torn up just discussing something that bothered her. If he could, he would personally confront everyone who had ever made her feel like a burden for sharing her feelings. He knew how hard this was for her and he hated that he couldn’t help her more.

His hands found hers. “Sweetheart, look at me.”

She glanced up, meeting those denim-blue eyes that she adored.

“I swear to you, you have nothing to worry about. We are just friends, and we have only ever been just friends. You’re my girl. I feel terrible about missing your event, and I promise to start writing everything down so there aren’t any more mix-ups.” He rubbed his thumb across hers, feeling her shaking start to lessen. “But I need you to talk to me about things. I know your past has made you hesitant to open up, but this is different, baby. We’re different. I want to know every single thought that goes through that beautiful head of yours.”

“I’ll try.”

______

drewstarkey

Liked by haley_james, JillianBlake, and 2,347,766 others.

drewstarkey happy birthday stink 🧜🏼‍♀️

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User1 HAPPY BDAY IVY

user2 this is so cute

User3 no one’s gonna talk about the 2nd pic???

railaslovechild THEIR BIRTHDAYS ARE ONLY A DAY APART 🥹

user4 HBD QUEEN

starboyd

Liked by JillianBlake, brooke_starkey, and 123 others.

starboyd Happy birthday, angel 🩵

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sonotivyleague 🥹 happy to be spending and almost sharing a birthday with u 🩵

madrecliner I TOLD YALL TO STOP IT 😭

lacigurl HAPPY BIRTHDAY GORGEOUS 💋

brooke_starkey happy birthday, pretty girl! ☺️

ivyblake

Liked by drewstarkey, hichasestokes, and 23,387,977 others.

ivyblake it’s been a good day 🩵

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madelyncline 26 HAS NEVER LOOKED HOTTER

carlaciagrant happy bday gorgeous girl 🫶🏾

madisonbaileybabe HAPPY BIRTHDAY ANGEL FACE

drewstarkey🪽🩵

user4 HI DREW

user5 DID ANYBODY SEE DREW’S STORY JUST NOW??!

railaslovechild OMFG DID HE SET THIS UP?! MY HEART 🥹😭

o*dessaazion hbd

user1 🤨 @/user2

user2 @/user1 🥸

sabrinacarpenter happy birthday darling 🩷🩷🩷

TheIvyLeague HAPPY BIRTHDAY QUEEN 🎁🎉🎈

ivyblakeupdates HAPPY BIRTHDAY YOU LOVELY HUMAN

ivyblake

Liked by brooke_starkey, railaslovechild, and 21,332,456 others.

ivyblake happy birthday drewby doo, hoping you had your daily pb&j to make it the best day 🩵

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drewstarkey I suspiciously had a freezer full of Uncrustables this morning, any idea how that happened???

ivyblake that’s so strange 🤭

user1 they aren’t even trying to hide it anymore 😂

railaslovechild MARRY EACH OTHER RN

madelyncline Happy birthday drewseph!!!

DrewIvyUpdates SO CUTE HBD DREW

DrewIvyUpdates wait is that IVY'S NECKLACE IN THE 3RD PIC

sonotivyleague

Liked by haley_james, lacigurl, and 213 others.

sonotivyleague birthday boy 🩵

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JillianBlake happy birthday sweet boy!

starboyd thank you mama Jill! madelyncline already in good with the in laws I see 🤭

rude_boy hbd drewseph!!!

lacigurl HAPPY BIRTHDAY BESTIE!!!

o*dessaazion

Liked by ivyblake, drewstarkey, and 877,323 others.

o*dessaazion Happy birthday Joseph. Keep eating that pb n j once a day, it's really good for ur bones

View comments

user3 ummm, did she just somewhat copy Ivy's bday post???

user4 this is umm.... yeah

user5 Ivy liked....

hater1 I LOVE U GUYS

haley_james lol...ok

user4 HOLY FUCK user2 did not see that coming

A/N: Not Haley being messy 🫣

THANK YOU for all of your support!!! Please let me know what you think and don't forget to like and reblog! My inbox is always open for any thoughts or discussions you would like to have about Drew/Ivy! I would love to hear from y'all.

Taglist: @davinashifts333, @rafegf-real, @chalahyung01, @jjmaybankmylovee, @f4irywor1d

[thebibliosphere]

I saw your post about ingram, and out of curiosity, is there some advantage to going through the whole self-publishing thing with retailers when you're just starting out? like I mean the way that fandom zines work is that they don't even bother going through ingram or amazon or whatever. they just set up a social media site (usually twitter) to gain followers, open preorders (usually 1-2 months in length) to generate the costs of printing upfront, and then sell anywhere from a few dozen to several hundred copies of their books (usually artbooks, but anthologies exist too). I've seen some zines generate over a thousand orders. they're kind of like pop-up shops, except for books. maybe the sales numbers aren't so impressive to a real author, but the profit generated is typically waaaay more than the $75+ apparently needed for Ingram Spark, so I still feel like new authors could benefit from this method too, especially if they just need some start-up cash to eventually move to ingram if they want to for subsequent runs of their book. I think authors would also have to set aside some of the pre-order money to buy an ISBN number to have printed on their book, and I'm not really sure what other differences there are, but I just wanted to ask about it in case there's some huge disadvantage I'm missing!

So, popup zines work well for some people, and I know some authors who kickstart their work successfully. But for a lot, it's just not feasible as a long-term stratedy. Or even as a means to get off the ground.

Fanzines succeed primarily because an existing fanbase is willing and ready to throw money at something they love. They’ve got a favorite writer or artist they want to support. Supporting all the others is just a happy by-product. They also take a HUGE amount of short-term but intense planning that just doesn’t always jive with how some of us work.

I, for one, would never offer to organize a fanzine. I’ll take part in them as a creator, but I’d rather throw myself off a cliff than subject myself to wrangling that many people and dealing with the legal logistics.

When it comes to authors doing anthologies, it'svery much the same. The success of the funding often hinges on having other big-name authors involved whose existing fans will prop up the project. Or having a huge marketing budget.

Most self-pub authors have zero marketing budget. I’m one of them, and I’m under no illusions that my work would not be as popular and self-sustaining as it is if I didn’t have a large Tumblr blog.

When I thank Tumblr in my forewards, I am utterly sincere. Tumblr brought fandom levels of enthusiasm to an unknown work and broke the Amazon algorithm so hard, that Amazon thought I was bot sniping my way to multiple #1 spots and froze my sales rankings.

That’s not the norm. And while I could probably kickstart my own work as an indie creator, that’s because I’ve put literal decades into building up a readership. I’ve been doing this since I was 16 and realized people thought I was funny. I didn’t know what to do with it or if I’d ever actually write anything, but it meant the groundwork was already there (thank you, past-me). I basically fell upward into my success by virtue of never being able to shut the fuck up and wanting to make people laugh. Clown instincts too strong.

New or first-time authors trying to sell their work without that will find it infinitely harder.

All of that aside, even if an unknown author somehow gets lucky and manages to fund their work, there’s still the question of shipping and distribution logistics. Are you shipping everything yourself? Better hope you’re able-bodied and have the time for it. (for reference, it took me months to ship out 300 patreon hardbacks because of my disabilites. It damaged my back and hands. I couldn’t type for several weeks after I was done.)

Are you going to sell primarily at conventions? Better hope you’re able-bodied, have the time and don’t have cripling anxiety about being in large groups...

Also, will selling a dozen to a few thousand copies in one burst be sustainable in the long run as a career? Not for me. Doing things via Ingram and Amazon means I earn a steady trickle of sales for the rest of my life provided the platforms remain and so long as I keep working and can generate interest in the series, not just when I have funds to pay for physical copies to sell. The one-time (in theory) cost of $75 to distribute through Ingram gets paid off pretty quick that way. And it doesn't require the same logistics as doing the popup/crowdfund.

Ultimately, it comes down to what you are capable of but also the type of work you’re doing. If you’ve got an extended network of fellow creatives who will back you or you’ve got a large following elsewhere, doing it like a popup might work for you.

If you’re an exhausted burnout who can’t fathom the short but intense amount of organization that sort of thing requires, not to mention doing it over and over and over... Ehhhhh. No thank you.

[st-el-la-luna]

Call of the Valley {Call of Duty x Reader/Stardew Valley AU｝

Prologue: Grey

➔ gn!reader ("you"/"your" pronouns used), thoughts of violence, mentions of death

no character introductions yet, just some world building. unedited

Series masterlist!

next

997 words

Grey walls. Grey ceilings. Grey floors. Grey desks. 

Everywhere you look is grey. From the meticulously lined cubicles to the desks lacking any personalization. From the uncomfortable chairs to the equally as uncomfortably sticky floors. From the company provided coffee mug to the company provided calendar. From your coworker's outfit (you swear that sweater used to be blue) to the contents of your lunch. 

It’s all grey. 

You sigh as you push around the mushy overcooked rice on your desk before you. In the silence of the office, you might as well have fired a gun, the sound a stark contrast to the usual deadness. The only sounds typical of this purgatory you call work are the tap-tap-tapping of keys and the clicking of mouses. Plus, the occasional beep of the microwave, or slam of the fridge door (you swear that fridge has been here longer than any employee. The way the lightbulb buzzes when you open the door sounds like a cry for help. A plea for you to end its decades-long misery. You, of course, don’t. If you must suffer, then so too must the fridge). 

Someone clears their throat from the entry of your cubicle. You turn away from your sad little lunch to find your sad little supervisor. Who, surprise, surprise, is dressed in, you guessed it, even more grey. 

“Something the matter?” she asks you with a smile that makes you want to use your cheap plastic fork to carve out her eyes. “I could have sworn I heard something.” 

“Yeah, sorry,” you try for a smile in return, not sure why you bother considering you hate her guts as much as she hates yours. “I’m just... tired.” 

“Well, tired or not, you know better than to bring that kind of attitude to the workplace. Big smiles, remember? The atmosphere matters you know!” 

“Right, yeah,” you nod, barely able to stop yourself from rolling your eyes. “Big smiles.” 

“Come on, let’s see it,” your supervisor says, tapping the sign on your cubicle wall *Smile, you’re with Joja!* You put on a smile which she returns with a patronizing scrunch of her nose, talking to you like one would an unruly child. “There, that wasn’t that hard now, was it?” 

It wouldn’t be too hard to use my stapler to knock your teeth in, you bitch. It’d only take a couple of hits... All the red would really brighten this place up... Ever heard of colour theory? 

“Yeah,” you smile. “Not that hard.” 

Your computer beeps. Your lunch break is over. You haven’t touched your food. 

Your supervisor's smile widens. The brown-nosing corporate shill that she is. “Well, you’d better get back to it... And try to do better this afternoon. Your numbers have been trailing all morning. I’d hate to have to write you up.” 

“Yeah,” you say as you drop your food into the rubbish. “I’m sure.” 

Your computer goes off again, demanding your attention. Your supervisor stands there for a moment longer than she needs to, as if checking that you’re really going to work, then hums, pleased, and walks away. 

It’s going to be a long day...  

But hey, look on the bright side, you won’t be doing this forever. 

One day you’ll die. 

Die... The thought echoes in your head for a bit. Die... Die... 

Your gaze falls to the drawer of your desk where the letter from your late great-uncle sits, waiting to be opened. You didn’t know the guy much, the family didn’t really talk about him, and he never came to any gatherings. But he had no kids and, well... No one really. He’d been thrilled when you had expressed interest in enlisting in your early teens. He taught you all the tricks of the trade and then some. 

He was less thrilled when you told him you’d changed your mind. 

It really wasn’t that shocking news. He’d kept talking on and on about pulling some strings, using his connections, but it’s just... not what you wanted anymore. You weren’t a kid anymore and well, you had to be realistic. 

Besides, they didn’t want you to enlist. You’d tried and well... While you passed the physical tests fine and were more than smart enough to work in intelligence or as a bomb tech, your psychological tests were... Less than stellar. Which was difficult to explain to a man who, despite having watched countless of his friends die and witness atrocities you could never fathom, thought that mental illness was a sham created by the youth to get out of doing real work. 

It’s not like you’d caused his heart attack. He was already sick. And all the smoking and drinking from his days on active duty surely didn’t help. He got himself too worked up over something small, and well... His heart just couldn’t take any more of it. 

Speaking of being unable to take anymore... you can hear your supervisor coming back around. You look between your monitor and the desk drawer. Monitor. Drawer. Monitor. Drawer. Monitor. Drawer. Monitor... 

“I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to write you up. Just know this isn’t-” 

“I quit.” 

And, just like that, you grab your few personal belongings and shove past her to the door, manilla envelope clutched in your hand.  

She sputters something behind you, makes a move to grab your wrist. You dodge. 

“You can’t be serious,” she says. “You... You can’t quit now! It’s the busiest time of the year!” 

“I just did... Oh, and Stacy?” 

“Yes?” she asks, almost hopeful. 

“You’re a right bitch. Just wanted to let you know.” 

Her entire face goes red as her cheeks puff out. “You... I... Wh...” 

You leave her there to her aneurysm, walking into the elevator and letting the doors close behind you. 

You lean your head back against the grey wall, resting your weight against the railing. You glance at the envelope in your hand. 

God... Please don’t let this be a mistake.  

please comment and reblog to support my writing! asks are always open! Literally nothing inspires me to write more!

who should we meet first and how?

taglist: @tooloudarts @cadotoast @elaineiswithyou-blog @thigh-o-saur

Masterlist!

[stellar-constellations]

Nemlei's December 2024 Devlog

A snippet of the Devlog for those who haven't read it yet.

If you want to see the whole devlog, go to the Steam page for the Coffin of Andy and Leyley. Or click this link: https://store.steampowered.com/news/app/2378900/view/4453592738017838121?l=english

Hello, my stars! Normally I don't bother addressing the progress reports or the devlogs for The Coffin of Andy and Leyley; however, this one devlog did stick out to me.

I almost felt like as a member of the community that I had to say something, even if it wasn't personal or directed to me at all. As someone who joined this game due to hearing the controversies of the creator and what they're doing, I feel like I can speak on at least MY behalf for the non-incest supporters.

What's under this cut might contain opinions you don't agree with. Don't be like Nemlei's haters and target me, just scroll away if you disagree with me. I will not engage in an argument with a stranger online where I don't even know their face; that's childish.

Under this cut will feature: opinions potentially different from yours, incest-related topics, oversharing of my life, and sexual abuse. If you are not comfortable with that, just scroll away and don't keep reading.

I had never knew who Nemlei was until I heard about the controversy surrounding them. When I heard about the game featuring incest-related topics, I was pretty disgusted. Incest in 2024? I thought we evolved far enough from the past to forget about this.

The reason why I'm so against incest is because I have siblings myself; biological siblings, half-blooded siblings, and step siblings. So I always found it revolting. Whenever I thought of the incest in Nemeli's game, I always felt disturbed because I always thought of my siblings.

It's like when you watch a movie and the father dies (if you have a good relationship with your father, that is) I would always ball my eyes out. I've always been pretty sensitive when it came to family due to the fact I was raised to always love your family so long as they love you; but I never took that sense in something farther than familial love.

I also don't believe in incest due to the harm that could happen if two blood-related people procreated. As someone who works with children on a daily basis, just seeing them scrape their knee pains me to know they're hurt. If they were in constant pain due to a genetic error that could've been prevented, I would be furious at the parents and pity the kid. I also believe in if the parent was able to go after their own father/mother/sibling, who is to say they won't go after their own child who doesn't know any better?

I do completely understand the argument between fiction and reality. As someone who writes about murder in my stories, it obviously doesn't make me a murderer; however, glamorizing and romanticizing it is where I cross the line. I've always had warnings in my work. I firmly believe that if you cannot tell the difference between fiction and reality, you should not read my work let alone be allowed access to the internet.

Why do I allow murder in my stories but not incest? Well, for starters, incest is a long term kind of ordeal, it usually doesn't suddenly happen, it builds up over time in the acts of grooming and most incest cases are because of unwanted sexual abuse that evolves into manipulation and a eventually the victim developing a toxic love I’d describe closest to Stockholm Syndrome (just without the kidnapping) . Murder however, doesn't always have to be planned, hence why there's first-degree, second-degree, and third-degree. A sudden murder on a stranger doesn't have that psychological abuse on the victim as it happens so fast and they're, you know, dead.

Think of it this way. If I had to go out, I would rather it happen quick than slow. I assume most others would agree with me too. We humans don't like pain, so why would we willingly prolong a person's misery if we ourselves don't like it?

I'm stalling though. The biggest reason I don't support incest is because of what happens to the victim afterwards. My cousin was a victim of molestation from her biological father, and my aunt was a victim of sexual abuse from her step-father (which falls under the category of step-incest).

Incest does not in any means involve consent. My real, biological family did not consent to what happened to them and to this day they struggle from what happened to them at early ages.

Real life incest also seems to tag into pedophilia. Most children who have unfortunately suffered from sexual abuse and assault know their perpetuators as their own family. It’s that gross belief that pedophiles and pro-incesters have alike: “Any hole is a goal,” whether it’s a child or your own blood. It also doesn’t help that those who believe in incest also usually have sociopathic tendencies and beliefs, and there have been crimes of murder committed because of one-sided incestual love; but of course, that’s the real life stuff, not fiction like the TCOAAL game is. My problem is having the audacity to glamorize and romanticize such ill-behavior; not taking into account that it’s fiction.

So, you can see why I'm against incest so much. But that leaves the question: why am I apart of The Coffin of Andy and Leyley community if I don't support their implied-incest, fiction or not?

Because The Coffin of Andy and Leyley is so much more than that.

It's not just incest and those who think it is are completely stupid. It is a "psychological horror game" which means it is supposed to mess with your mind. Horror doesn't mean blood and guts, it's meant to gross you out too, which is what Nemlei understands.

"Psychological" means your way of thinking, psychological horror is supposed to terrorize your brain and test your way of thinking, not terrorize your eyes with an unrealistic amount of blood or a stab wound.

The “allowing murder and cannibalism but not incest” argument? Yeah, that’s not really valid and here’s why.

Yeah there was murder in The Coffin of Andy and Leyley, but it wasn't mindless. Most of the murders were self-defense (killing the wardens to escape, killing the lady in the apartment because she tried to hurt Andrew and tell the wardens, killing the hitman because he tried to kill them first).

The murder of the Graves parents were iffy, but hey, if you believe in revenge murder because of the psychological damage your parents put you through, then sure (fictionally, of course). The murder of Nina was uncalled for, I can't justify that one nor do I really understand why Ashley wanted it other than jealousy and for Andrew to focus solely on her, but go off I guess Nemlei.

And let's not forget the classic cannibalism, which was done to literally survive. There is a law in some places where if you're in a life or death situation with absolutely no access to food, you can cannibalize in means to survive. It’s messed up, but at the end of the day if it needs to be done, it needs to be done.

And it's a horrifying and a mind-boggling concept, and yet so well-thought out! That is the true meaning of psychological horror, it fucks with your brain in a way you can understand why, but don't like it. It’s literally a true example of psychological horror!

I have this saying that I believe in: "You don't have to like a person to appreciate their hard work.”

Even with all the Nemlei controversy, she doesn't deserve the kind of hate she receives. I mean, telling someone to kill themselves? Just how immature are you? I bet you wouldn't say that if you were face-to-face with her; people on the internet are too careless, leaving digital footprints that will trace back to them. Karma will get them, don't worry.

Even if she did purposely instigate others (with this image):

Which was pretty immature and petty to do knowing how crazy people on the internet are, she still doesn't deserve to literally be chased off the internet for her own fictional creations. It's funny how people will hate on her and her work, yet check each and every devlog, stalk her social medias, and dox her. It's disgusting behavior and I'm ashamed to say that they're not even human.

How could you treat a fellow human, with different experiences and problems, different and ostracize them all because you don't agree with their opinions? Haven't you ever heard to shut your mouth if you have nothing nice to say?

I’ve been in a few dark ages myself, but I can never imagine the fear and the anxiety Nemlei must go through on a day-to-day basics because of these so-called “fellow humans” who seek out to hurt her.

I think I would rather jump a cliff myself than tell someone that I don’t even know to commit suicide (or worse, someone I do know, which I seriously doubt you reading this are personal with Nemlei). I have diagnosed depression and take medication for it, so to hear that comment on the wrong day, would might literally be the end of my life; and it’s something I would never wish upon someone else to hear. Especially someone who has a passion and works hard to it; whether you like it or not, it makes her happy, and as long as it’s not actually hurting people in real life, then none of us have a say in it.

But anyways, I think I said what I wanted to say.

Treat everyone with the kindness you were treat yourself. And if you don't treat yourself kindly, start working on it. If you disrespect yourself, others will too. We really don’t live long enough to care about what others think because let’s face it, the whole world will never agree on one thing, it’s why we have separate political parties and laws varying in every country and state.

We really just have to make the best we can in the world. Goodness should be embodied into our realities, not just fiction. Be the change you want to see.

Thank you for reading. If you have a different opinion, don’t bother trying to change my mind. I’m not arguing about this and you’ll simply be blocked.

[boundbyeclipse]

⛓️smut 4 + 🌹fluff 3&5 with Elijah please❤️

hello! thank you for sending in the request! hope you enjoy it ♡

prompts are here.

🌹 3. “My love for you only grows with each passing second”

🌹 5. “I’d be more than happy to date my best friend”

⛓️ 4. “If I kiss you right now, I won’t be able to stop”

The flames danced together in the fireplace as you sat on the red velvety couch at the Mikaelsons place. You sat there all cozy and relaxed, enjoying the atmosphere. You were invited by Elijah who has been your best friend for a long time now. Apparently, he wanted to talk to you, but didn’t say what it was about. And usually, he always tells you everything and anything, so this time, you felt as if he was hiding something. Or, that something seriously bad has happened and he needs your help. With those questions in your head not letting you stay calm, you turned your head and looked at him.

“So, what’s been bugging you?”

Elijah walked up to you, reaching his hand out, looking at you with a little smile on his face.

“Come with me”

You obliged, taking his hand and allowing him to lead the way. He took you to the balcony that was connected to his room. The sun was already setting, drowning the buildings in its rays of sunshine, golden sky looking as beautiful as ever. Light chilly wind rippled through your hair as you leaned onto the metal railing.

“There’s something you’re not telling me, Lij” you tilted your head, observing his side profile as he stared into the distance.

He smiles lightly, looking down before he locks eyes with you.

“You’ve always loved sunsets. It’s one of the reasons why I brought you here to talk. Thought it would be a comfortable place for this”

“I’m here, you know? If you need my help, my advice, a place to stay, anything. Tell me. I’ll do it all for you” you squeezed his forearm, a concerned look on your face.

He sighed.

“The thing is, I’ve known you for so long, it feels like forever. I remember saving you from my own brother and his stupid intentions to kill you. I’m very glad I did. I have such an amazing best friend in my life, somebody who truly cares and I thank you for that. But you know, over time, people sometimes either fall apart, or become closer. We, certainly, became closer. And I cannot lie to myself anymore, nor to you. By saying closer, I mean, I feel something. Something that could potentially either make things wrong, or make them right. So, I’ve been thinking for weeks how to tell you this since I’ve come to a realisation”

You shook your head, trying to catch up with what he’s trying to tell you.

“What realisation?”

“See, I love you as a best friend. But… My love for you only grows with each passing second. The way you smile, the way you laugh, the way you care for me, the way you’re willing to do anything in this world for me. I have fallen for you and I have no idea what will happen next, but I had to tell you. You mean so much to me, I haven’t felt this way for anyone else before”

“Elijah…” you whispered, voice shaky as your eyes filled with tears, absolutely taken aback by his words. But what he doesn’t know yet, is that you feel the same way, but never thought of confessing because he is your best friend. It scared you. But now, knowing the truth, you felt like you had no more fear in you to express your feelings.

“I’m sorry”

“No, no, Lij, listen,” you stopped him from leaving, cupping his face with your hand, thumb rubbing his jawline.

His dark brown eyes glistened as he melted into your touch, heart picking up its pace.

“You have no idea how I feel and you want to walk away? Elijah, I’ve been in the same shoes that you are in for months now. Only that I feared it would ruin things between us for forever, so I hid behind my feelings and pretended like I only saw you as my friend. But no. I’ve come to a realisation too now that you told me what’s going on inside this heart,” you placed your hand on his chest, “I’d be more than happy to date my best friend”

Elijah smiled, grabbing your hand in his, kissing the back of your palm, a tear rolling down his left cheek as he lightly chuckled.

“I would love to kiss you right now”

“You don’t need to ask for permission” you snickered, fixing his tie as you wrapped your hands around his neck, leaving less space between your faces.

“My love… If I kiss you right now, I won’t be able to stop”

Your lips parted, gaze dropping to his lips before returning to his eyes, “Then don’t”

Elijah cupped your face as he slowly leaned in, closing the distance between you two. Your lips danced together, you being the first one to slip your tongue in his mouth. His hands landed on your waist, pulling your body closer as if it wasn’t close enough in the first place.

He soon picked you up, carrying you inside through the open glass door, laying you down on his king sized bed that smelled of silk and roses, standing at the end of it as he unbuttoned his shirt in a hurry. He looked amazing. He was so muscular and beautiful, broad shoulders and strong arms ; you had no hesitation. In your eyes, he was a greek god. The way he threw that shirt away made you gasp, it turned you on so badly you wished he touched you already. You craved Elijah. He craved you.

He hovered over you then, your body tensing up as your widened eyes followed his movements. He helped you with your shirt, kissing you every now and then, until the both of you were equal. Both of you were naked. Both of you were full of lust.

“You are so beautiful, my darling” he cooed, switching his attention to your neck that he showered with wet kisses, leaving you breathing heavily at the sensation.

“Elijah” you breathed, causing him to look up at you immediately.

“Yes?”

“You’re incredibly handsome”

He smiled, a little shy because of your compliment. Still, he carried on as he loved on your body, entering you slowly without breaking his kisses. Your back arched at the feeling of him filling you up, hands flying to grab onto his arms, nails dug deeply into the skin as Elijah moved his hips.

It felt so good that you couldn’t speak a word except his name, which he loved hearing. The way it fell from your lips sounded like a melody, he could not get enough of it. It was hypnotic, Elijah felt as if he was under your spell.

You were nearing your end, the knot in your stomach growing with each second, almost ready to explode. Elijah pinned your hands on your sides, intertwining your fingers as he looked at you, breathing deeply as he knew he was almost there too.

The both of you reached your highs at the same time, eyes heavy but still locked together, giggles filling the room as Elijah plopped beside you. It took a moment to get your breathing back to normal, and soon you laid on his chest, legs tangled under the sheets. Elijah had his arm around you, stroking your hair. He spoke up.

“I love you, you know?”

“I love you too. Don’t ever let go of me”

“I never will. I promise”

[your-local-depressed-fangirl]

My book! WIP

I’d absolutely love some feedback on it! And hope you enjoy! (Wip below cut)

@mentallyunstablequeen101 @solangelo-taylors-version @persassy777 (this is the fantasy book I was talking about a while back.) @the-eclipse-is-in-me

Edit: oooh also @zeuskidrants and @spawnofthedead ‘cause they’ve only seen the og draft :)

Look, I didn’t know what was to come. I knew something was off, but I couldn’t quite place my finger on what was wrong until it was staring me right in the face. By the time I realised it was already far too late…

⸸•⸸•⸸•⸸ 

It was a beautiful, no, perfect night. Elmerina strolled through the empty streets of Tellhara, basking in the moonlight. The heels of her work boots clicked and clanged against the town’s cobblestone streets creating a soft steady beat. She hummed the melody to a lullaby as she walked keeping rhythm with her feet. Elmerina looked around her once more and after seeing that no one was there but the moonlight, shadows, and late night breeze began to sing, slowly crescendoing. She was a one woman band, only she was performing for no one but herself. The moment she reached full volume belting the lullaby at a volume it wasn’t written for suddenly, someone or something appeared from the shadows of the buildings, approaching her silently and… inhumanly swift.

Elmerina halted her singing as she didn’t want anyone to hear her and tried to get a better view of what was around her. Perhaps it was simply a town person out for a stroll like Elmerina. After all it was such a lovely night who could blame them? After a few seconds her eyes were able to make out the shadow clothed walker.

It was Cassandra, a friend of Elmerina's that she had known since as long as she could remember,  but something seemed, no was, off about her. Instead of her confident smile, her lips were spread in an almost evil grin, her teeth barred in a snarl much like that of a feral fox. Her eyes looked different, the colour was ever so slightly off, her usually green-ish Hazel eyes appeared more red even though the light from the moon above was more white with a bluish tint, and she wore a murderous, malevolent, scheming gaze. Cassandra closed the distance between the two and spoke in a voice that was far higher pitched and raspier than the Cassandra Elmerina knew all her life.

“Well, well, Elmerina…” Cassandra smirked and drew a silver dagger with a black leather hilt and shiny black opal embedded in the hilt concealed in her skirt that Elmerina couldn’t recall Cassandra ever having.

Elmerina felt a shiver creep and crawl its way down her back when Cassandra said her name with such malice. Elmerina stepped back and reached for her own dagger that normally rested on her hip, not so much to attack her friend but to quell her nerves, the instinct that told her to run, but she found it missing from its post.

Cassandra, with one quick movement, swung her dagger and pressed the blade to Elmerina’s throat with practiced skill Cassandra didn’t have. 

Maybe she just never told me about her skill with a blade, Elmerina thought only to have her optimism crushed by Cassandra’s features melting away to reveal a ghastly horrifying-looking creature: translucent black skin draped over its scrawny malnourished looking frame with backward bending knees like those of a bird, horse hooves, black beak, piercing bloodshot red eyes with black scleras that bore into Elmerina’s soul sending shivers down her spine, two pairs of arms, peculiar flaps of skin hanging down from its lower pair of arms that sort of resembled the concept of bat wings, and long grimy claws at the tips of its only three-fingered hand-paws that held that black and silver dagger to her neck.

“We… are coming,” That thing said before Elmerina could react and opened its grotesque beak and let out a hoarse choking sound that could only have been its twisted, unnatural version of a laugh. Elmerina stumbled back, startled. It closed its beak and gazed at her with blood-red eyes. “Fear us, those you humans have dubbed…” Its voice trailed off, and it split the surface of Elmerina’s neck with the dagger drawing significant amounts of blood but not digging deep enough to kill her. 

Elmerina gasped in shock and pain. She cupped one of her hands over the fresh wound on her neck; her blood seeped through the cracks of her fingers, warm and wet. The pressure she was applying on it did seem to slow down the waterfall of crimson blood.

“The Fear…” The grotesque creature said, finishing its sentence. It dissolved into black dust crumbling away like a wet piece of parchment being pulled apart before disintegrating and was swept away by the wind. The silver dagger clattered to the floor with a loud CLANG. 

Elmerina reached out with her free hand and bent over to pick up the weapon with her blood on it, but as soon as she touched the dagger, it dissolved as the grotesque creature had and a chorus of terrible cries sounded.

Elmerina looked up to the sky now filled with black smoke and something more sinister. 

The cries had been the announcement that there were swarms of ginormous, somehow even more terrifying versions of the grotesque creature that had called itself the “Fear” circling above her, teaming up with the clouds of smoke to block out the light of the midnight moon. 

It was hard to see but Elmerina saw a horrific mass of wings, teeth and talons circling the night sky above. The hoard of beasts dive down as a perfectly in sync unit and converge upon her with their limbs and claws extended, as if preparing to skewer her like a kebab. 

Elmerina tried to scream and yell, to intimidate them and scare them away with any luck, but not a single sound came out of her lips, she felt the words vibrate through her vocal folds but it was as if her words were silenced as they came out. Her eyes unfocused as blood dripped from her hands Elmerina’s neck still bleeding out of control. She fell to the ground unable to stand and curled up on the cobblestone, defending her vital organs and her head out of instinct and closed her eyes.

This can’t be happening, Elmerina’s scattered continuous thought. This can’t be the end… 

⸸•⸸•⸸•⸸

Elmerina opened her eyes to find herself on her own bed drenching in a cold sweat and the light of the early morning sun. In her room safe and sound exactly the position she had fallen asleep last night. But one thing was different, Elmerina felt a stinging pain in her neck, the same place that thing had cut her. 

It was just a dream, just a dream. her thoughts told her. More like a nightmare but nonetheless a figment of her imagination. Just another of the very ominous dreams she’d been having. 

Oh how far from the truth that line of thinking was…

Elmerina clawed her way out of bed falling flat on her face with a grunt before picking herself back off the floor and stumbling towards her dresser and looking in the mirror. She saw a nasty red cut where dream-her got cut before it vanished without a trace. 

A trick of the light… it must be… but alas she would probably forget this encounter like she always seemed to when something strange happened and be left with only the ghost of a memory and a strange feeling that something odd had happened. 

Elmerina changed into her day clothes and braided her long locks and pinned it in an updo to be out of the way for the day with a long sharp hairpin which also doubled as a means of self defence if need be, although the chances of Elmerina actually needing to use the hair pin for self defense. All the locals knew better than to try their luck with her in a fist fight or any sort of fight for the matter. Elmerina was still cautious and had that hair pin along with a dagger her late mother had given her. She doesn’t know what mother in her right mind would give a young child a knife, but she has it and she’s not about to be ungrateful. 

Finally after what some would call an average amount of time getting ready for the day and others would say an outrageous amount Elmerina finally left the confines of her room. 

Down the hall from her room her little brother’s room was still closed. A peculiar occurrence as he typically woke up before her. Elmerina gently knocked on the door of the room just loud enough to hear but not loud enough to scare the boy inside. 

Just as Elmerina put her hand on the door handle to go inside, a voice from behind her made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up with perfect chorus posture. “What are you doing? Why are you going into my room?” 

Elmerina turned around faster than one could say the word ‘turn’; her hair would have hit her in the face had it not been pinned up. “Goodness Neldawin! I thought you were still asleep and I was just about to wake you. How do you sneak up on me like that?” Elmerina said, letting out a sigh. This boy will be the death of me…

Elmerina’s little brother, Neldawin, let out a mischievous giggle. “Little brother magic,” He said leaning against the railing of the staircase with a mischievous smile donning his face, his dimple only added to the picture. 

Elmerina rolled her eyes though the corners of her lips were slightly upturned. “No such thing.” she replied, ruffling Neldawin’s shaggy brown hair. 

“Yes such thing.” Neldawin argued, crossing his arms, furrowing his brows, widening his stance, puffing out his chest and drooping his lips in a pout.

“Whatever… I’ve got to tell Lamira to start teaching you grammar,” Elmerina rolled her eyes, smiled at Neldawin, and ruffled his hair. 

Neldawin’s mouth opened to retort when the two heard a loud thud from down stairs.

[siconetribal]

Put it on My Tab (19)

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!reader

Warning: Frustration, Online Gaming, and Revelations

A/N:

Please comment/like/reblog. If you’d like to be tagged moving forward, please let me know! I’d also greatly appreciate it if rebloggers remember to add the tags (or some at least).

As always, a huge thank you and shout out to @harlequin-hangout for the amazing banners you made for me.

If you’re new to the story, please check out the master post for the rest of the chapters.

All occupants of Wayne manor knew Jason was in a sour mood. To what extent or why was not clear, but it was obvious in his lack of snippy banter and increased silence, and when he did respond, it was sharper than usual. It was as if he was regressing back to the days when he was still finding his footing amongst them. He and Bruce never had an outwardly discussion clarifying everything, but there was something that was done to help build a new foundation, regardless oh how shaky that was.

They tried to approach the second Robin in a variety of ways, trying to unearth the reason for the sudden slip into anger. Some thought Bruce and him had an argument, while others thought there may be trouble in the Outlaws. Neither was able to confirm their suspicions, and any attempt to do so was met with aggression and deflection.

Annoyed by all their brown nosing, Jason left the manor and spent the next couple of nights at his own apartment. Of course, I’d have no privacy in a house full of detective vigilantes. He rolled his eyes as he rolled out of bed and made his way over to his computer. Plopping onto the chair, he let it wheel backwards before pulling himself forward by the desk. He stared at the game icon on his desktop for what felt like the umpteenth time today. His fingers drummed just below his keyboard as he eyed his mouse, which rested only a couple inches away. I can’t just log on and act like I haven’t been gone in forever. She’s probably pissed that her online buddy has been MIA for so long. He ran a hand through his hair and leaned back, the chair reclining with his weight. This is my only way to even speak to her, though. I cleared up the bill crap, maybe I can meet her again through here? Fake that I didn’t know who she was? Not like she’d ever know that I knew anyway. Pursing his lips to one side, he intensely stared at his ceiling, as if it held some sort of secret that would aid him in his decision to long on or not. 

“Fuck it, I’m logging on!” The seat swung forward with him as he sat up and logged onto the game.

Arkam_Knight has logged in. The italicized text popped up on the screen, much to Y/N’s surprise. Her character was currently standing in the town square looking at the request board for something that was easy enough for a solo hunt. Seeing the name of her dearly miss comrade was an answer to her desperate pleas for some miracle because there was no mission that allowed solo entry. She eagerly opened the chat box and began to type.

<Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes! Where have you been?! I would’ve called the police for a wellness check, but I don’t have a clue on where you live.>  She watched the ellipses bounce then vanish repeatedly for a couple of minutes. The longer he took to reply, the more concerned she was becoming. An unknown weight slowly creeped onto her shoulders. Anxious thoughts spun around in her mind. The distant ding of his response was able to rip her from the thoughts.

<Yeeeaaah, my bad. Work was crazy and shit had me all over the fucking place trying to clean up. I can’t go into detail, a lot of confidential crap.>

<Yeah, I figured. So, I know you can’t tell me what you do for a living, but I’ve come to the conclusion that you’re working as a high level officer of some kind. I won’t ask you what branch, but sounds like you do work city wide, which I have no clue how you handle that.>

<Someone’s gotta do the dirty work, right? It ain’t for everyone. It just so happens that I’ve got a knack for it.> He added a little proud sticker. <You’ve been MIA yourself, I’ve logged in a few times and saw you hadn’t been on in a while.>

<Where do I even begin? Life has been kicking both of us in the asses, it seems.> She sent an exhausted sticker. She paused for a few minutes, staring at her blinking cursor. How was she going to explain it all to him? Would it even be believable? She, herself, also found it hard to swallow was true. From dealing with Waynes to meeting two of Batman’s partners to being part of a claim investigation because of the collateral damage to the building.

I thought dealing with snobby rich kids and wild Karens was as crazy as my life was going to be. Who knew I’d be entangled with crime fighters and a Trust Fund kid. She slumped in her seat, slowly tapping at the space bar to let him know she was still there. Erasing the long gap of emptiness, she sat up once more.

<Give me a sec, gotta organize my thoughts on this.>

<Damn, that much? Take your time, I’m here.>

<Thanks.> She smiled at the animated thumbs up sticker was sent. At least I still hot my friends.

Jason sank back into his computer chair, rocking back and forth and swinging side to side as he awaited for her response. Watching the symbol of her typing appear and disappear multiple times was far more torturous than he anticipated. He knew what she was going to tell him, he was there with her. She did not know that, and he did not know how she took any of it. The only thing he could rely on were the facts, but that did nothing for his nerves.

If someone told him that he would wake up one morning in a hotel room next to a stranger, who knew how to get under his skin and take over his thoughts, he would have laughed at them. If they told him she was his online gaming buddy as well, he would have scoffed the added detail and never spoken to the person for being out of their mind. And yet, here he was, months later, talking to that very strange woman, battling between keeping in touch and cutting all ties. 

If things could just go back to when we didn’t know each other, it could just be simpler. I can’t even game with her without feeling some sort of way. He rubbed his chest as that uncomfortable weight sank onto his heart. I should’ve just paid the bill and let it be. Why did it matter if she knew me or not? I knew she got screwed over because of me, I should’ve just ended it as soon as I found her. His irrational actions bothered him. He was a cold and calculating vigilante that played by his own rules. He even ran the crime world for a time when he was completely at odds with Batman and was blinded by his heightened rage. He survived death and a beating from the Joker. Handling a hotel bill for a girl should not be this difficult, and yet here he was stuck in quicksand. He glanced at his computer monitor and his eye twitched at the site of the dots vanishing again. “What is she doing, right a novel?!” He threw his hands up and heaved a heavy sigh.

He swung his chair straight at the ding and leaned in close to the monitor, skimming the paragraph before forcing himself to read from the start.

<Ok, Dickens, you didn’t tell me you were publishing a novel! Lol, give me a sec to read all this.>

 It started off as he expected, she mentioned their first few meetings and how she fumbled with trying to hide herself. He could not help the snicker that came at her admission of being angry at him, but a grin quickly took over when she confessed that she found him good-looking. 

“Damn right, you did! I’m fucking handsome!” He boasted, puffing his chest with pride before diving back into the text. I came that night and those pricks were there, ok, Nightwing and Red Robin came crashing through the window, fine, so then-wait, what the fuck! His gaze snapped back to the two mentioned vigilantes and the incident he was not aware of at all. “When the fuck did this happen? Did Dickhead do this on purpose?! I’m going to enjoy getting answers out of him later.” He cracked his knuckles as a wicked smirk took over. He carefully read through the incident and soon realized that this was in fact a coincidence, but his ‘darling’ older brother failed to mention it to him. At least they left her a tip.

Pushing forward, he read about the following insurance claim filing that was on going to prove that this was not something staged. Then there were her concerns about a particular caffeine addicted young teen who was another Wayne with another name. His mind instantly flashed to the memory of Tim’s coffee cup.

Don’t tell me he’s in on it too! Nosy assholes, Jason was ready to flip his computer table but kept his composure. No, he can’t be. He hasn’t been asking me shit or tailing me in any way. That means this is just his need for coffee, and she makes damn good coffee. He reasoned himself back into a state of calm to read onwards. The name of the detective in charge of the claim has him seeing red. He paced the length of his bedroom to avoid breaking his only means of communication with her. “Oh, I’m going to kill him. I’m going to kill him the next time I see him! That was on purpose, he chose to take the lead on this because I told him her name. Dickhead is in for a world of pain.” His voice rumbled in anger as he expended the rage through physical activity. 

He sat back in his seat when he felt he was calm enough to, and continued to read the rest of what she had to say. She finally got to their last evening together. He made her brownies and she was really touched by it.

<I was purely joking about the brownies, but he actually went through with it! I don’t think I’ve ever dated a guy who made me brownies, and he’s a stranger! It’s insufferable just how perfect he is for dropping such a huge bill on my head!> She punctuated with angry stickers. <I didn’t want to eat them, though. I wanted to keep them forever, like a memento since-well, I’m getting a head of myself.> She dove into the details of their diner date. He remembered that night, they talked for hours, but it felt like hardly any time had even gone by. <I hated asking him to pay, but I had to. It was getting to be too much for me and my roomie. He was great about it, a real gentleman. I said to just help with what was left, but he paid me the whole thing! I really had him wrong in my head. We ended up staying out late, talking. I don’t think I’ve ever had such an easy conversation with a guy before. When the diner had to close, he took me home and even waisted until I got through the front door. But now I don’t have any reason to talk to him, and he hasn’t made any effort to reach out to me either. Which loops back to the brownies. I wanted to keep them as a memento because it looks like that chapter is closed. But all of his efforts would’ve gone to waste. They were really good, which sucks. Now he’s even more of a jerk wad because it’s not fair! My roomie has plans to celebrate my freedom, but I’m not so sure. I want to, but it involves the tip from Nightwing and Red Robin. Would that be considered evidence or something I should hand over to the detective at my formal interview?>

The infamous Red Hood sat there, speechless, with his head swimming from his and her emotions. She clearly wanted to keep up their friendship, and he did too, but it was not safe. She was already linked to two of them, which was bad enough. He knew he was the worst of them to ever be associated with, and that made this more irritating for him. He muttered profanities as he slammed his fist on the desk. If only he could untangle himself from all this, everything would be fine.

<Shit, you really were busy. Glad to hear he paid his dues like a man. But if he’s so hot, why not just ask him out yourself?> He suggested. He needed to act like any other citizen. He needed to distance himself from himself in her mind. <Did you really serve Nightwing and Red Robin while they were on a mission? I definitely wouldn’t have thought about giving them coffee in the middle of all that. Though, he sounds like a weirdo saying your name so many times. I doubt he was threatening you, maybe he’s got some weirdo fetish? I’d say keep away from him. As great as he is, a masked guy flipping through the Gotham night in spandex must have some sorta thing.> He insisted. That’s what you get, Dick-wing. He smirked. <The tip is yours to keep, you served them, and they gave you a tip. Unless it had some secret message or some sort of flash drive, cash isn’t going to be a dig deal. Plus, they didn’t ask you about the tip though they saw it on camera, you’re good. It’s yours, use it.>

<Yeah, she said the same thing. Said it was a gift from the heavens and I shouldn’t be so paranoid. Also, no way in hell am I asking him out! He’ll think I’m some gold digging hussy! The guy paid for dinner and the hotel bill, I think I’m the last person he wants to see again!>

<Listen to me, I’m a guy, trust me. If he thought you were a gold digger, he would’ve ended shit right away or left you at the diner. The guy made you brownies! I think you can give him some slack and think that maybe, just maybe, he likes your company too?>

<If he liked it so much, why hasn’t he texted me?>

<Because he’s a bigger dumbass and overthinks like you? Thinks you hate him or that you don’t want anything to do with him because he landed you in shit?> He countered. <You don’t have to do anything, I’m just saying thinking about it. Whatever you choose, just don’t abandon me again! Solo raiding was horrible!> He added a few tearful stickers to gain sympathy.

<You think? Alright, alright, I get it! Sheesh, I just told you, I didn’t vanish on purpose! I promise, I’ll keep in touch as best I can! I don’t have to OT anymore, so that’s promising. Thanks for listening. Now, let’s go kick some monster tail!>

<LOL, anytime! I thought you’d never ask!>

Tags:

@vbecker10 @wordsfromshona @harlequin-hangout @harpy-space @tild3ath @gone-batty-fics @princessbl0ss0m @dakotall @antiquecultist

[lumiconic]

“ if you’d say you love me ”

✧ some way or another, every member of the global pop sensation 6REEZE has fallen head over heels for you.

✧ kunikuzushi, venti, kazuha, heizou, aether, xiao ; fluff, slight hurt comfort ; idol au ; not proofread

  the first to be sucked into your irresistible gaze is kunikuzushi, known as the main dancer kuni to 6REEZE’s devoted fanbase, STORM’S EYE. it’s almost funny, considering how kuni is known for being the sharpest and most angry member of the group, who dismissively flicks his hand at fans pleading for his autograph. somehow, it was always you who was able to see past his thorny exterior to the blazing passion underneath.

  as the group’s manager, you know almost everything about each of the boys, from their favorite colors to their most coveted dreams. only kuni refused at first to open up to you, calling it a waste of time because he had more important things to do than team-building. there were some tiny hints of disappointment on your face whenever he opted out of the group hangouts early, but you never forced him into anything, no matter how eager everyone else was.

  yet, there was some tiny part of him, buried far beneath, that almost wanted you to make him. to be given an excuse to learn more about you, and to be known as well as you knew the other boys. he never acted on it, and so it’s by complete chance the first time you show having knowledge of him beyond what he’s voluntarily shared.

  he was in the rehearsal room, packing up his bag and wiping the sweat off his brow after another long day of practice. while his singing and rapping skills were mediocre – for an idol, of course, which made them still far above average – he had been scouted solely for his skill at dancing and thus had to train much more in that area than any other. while it was his passion, he still found himself exhausted beyond belief at the end of the day.

  you opened the door without looking up, talking on the phone to someone about future marketing plans (i’m sorry, but if you want heizou to model that line then you need to take aether too because he doesn’t have enough deals yet). kuni cleared his throat.

  your head shot up and your eyes landed on him. “kuni!” you said, sounding surprised and ending the call with a tap of your finger. “oh, do you want this? here – ” you dug in your tote for a moment, then tossed a bottle to him. startled, he threw out his hands and almost fumbled the catch. 

  “ragnvindr energy?” he read the label out loud. the neon pink coloring on the plastic wrap almost hurt his tired eyes, but he was still able to discern the title. “what is this?” 

  “isn’t that your favorite brand?” you asked, sounding surprised.

  “yeah, but – how would you know that?” he said, the usual bite in his voice gone, replaced by confusion as he stared at the bottle. you tilted your head. “well, you bring it practically every day and keep it in your bag, so,” you shrugged, “i just noticed. that one’s my favorite, so i thought i’d have you try it too. which flavor do you like best?”

  there was some strange pulse of feeling through his chest at those words. that casual recognition, the easy way you stated that you had noticed something about him. that you were paying attention. He couldn’t explain why it felt so important. so heady and exhilarating in a way that almost rivaled the feeling of dancing.

  “green tea,” he said, without thinking. “the more bitter it is, the better.”

  you laughed, and he sucked in a breath. the sound was like – the first rays of light peeking over the horizon in the morning; like rain drumming on leaves in the midst of a storm. like music. so easily, he could be lost in that rhythm the way he gets swept into a song even in just the first few beats of an addictive melody.

  “green tea, huh. you aren’t supposed to have that much caffeine, but i saw how hard xiao was pushing you today.” you lifted your shoulders in a what can you do gesture, then pressed your index finger to your lips. “maybe try to drink more water in the future, but for now you definitely deserve this. let’s keep it our secret, okay?”

  “o-okay,” kuni stumbled over the word, surprise still freezing his wide-eyed expression in place, hating the choked breath lingering in his throat as you smiled back at him. a blush rose to his face at the sight, coloring the apples of his cheeks bright red. “thanks.” 

  “of course! once this next m/v comes out, you’ll have more room to breathe,” you said reassuringly. “just hold out til then.” he nodded, not trusting himself to speak without his voice cracking embarrassingly. what is this? [name] of all people, causing this reaction? get yourself together! they’re just your damn manager, not your – 

  he silenced his inner thought before it could finish that humiliating sentence.

  “well, see you later,” you said, waving goodbye and leaving the room as you tugged your phone out of your bag, already returning to your itinerary of plans to make. there was silence for a long moment, his eyes still focused sightlessly towards the door. kuni looked at the bottle in his hand, turning it over multiple times before unscrewing the cap, lifting it up, and dumping the whole thing over his head.

  he stood there for a moment, the smell of artificial sunsettia flavoring soaking through his hair and cool, sticky juice dripping down his cheeks, soaking into his long sleeved exercise shirt, and pooling at his feet, an speechlessly angry and dumbfounded expression on his face. the heat in his cheeks refused to dissipate. then he took a deep breath in, hoisted his bag over his shoulders, and headed for the showers.

  the second person to be enchanted by you is venti, the main singer, with a pleasant, boyish voice that can go unexpectedly deep and serious. considered immature and childish, he’s also the most rebellious of the group, in a way; the one who would disappear for hours at exactly the wrong times, fetching expensive gifts for the other members and interrupting meetings with the company heads to interject his own opinions on music and production.

  this was yet another day that he was spending doing the opposite of what he was meant to; visiting a local café, one of his personal favorites because of their cutely decorated cakes and lattes, wearing thick black sunglasses and a face mask.

  currently, he was hurrying away from the café, holding a bag with a small box of petit fours and a caramel-apple flavored special edition coffee, trying to lay out his plans for the rest of the day. i just need to get out of here, then i’ll get right back to the company and start practicing again. it’ll only be about ten minutes to go straight home, it shouldn’t take that long…

  “oh my god! is that venti?! like, from 6REEZE?!” 

  … damn it.

  “can i please get a photo? i love 6REEZE, i know all your songs! i have, like, every single photocard released since you debuted!” the nervous babble of the girl who spotted him was admittedly somewhat flattering. “h-hey, sure, a photo’s fine!” venti said, a dazzling smile leaping to his face as he bent slightly to make a peace sign at the camera. the girl clutched her phone in both hands as she took the photo, like it was a priceless item of some kind. 

  “oh, me too, please! you’re my favorite!” begged her friend, bouncing excitedly; her hysterical voice reached a new pitch as venti did finger hearts in her photo. “hey, what’s going on over there?” “what, is he some kind of celebrity?” voices began to bubble through the crowd at the noise, and soon enough, there was an entire group of people shoving up against him, asking for pictures and autographs and asking questions that he could barely hear. 

  panic was starting to burn in his chest, flustered words of hey, excuse me, i’ve really got to go spilling from his lips, with no end in sight to the mayhem. then, he spotted a familiar figure; you, hand shielding your eyes from the sun, peering out over the crosswalk for, presumably, him. your gaze lit on the commotion, and then on him. your jaw dropped slightly in surprise at the uproar being caused simply by his presence. 

  he made eye contact with you through the crowd, panic sparking in his eyes, an unmistakable help me forming on his lips. there was annoyance on your face, and for a second he thought you were going to leave, but instead you opened your mouth as wide as it would go and shouted, “HEY! IS THAT CHILDE FROM DCKZ?” pointing – somewhat unkindly – at a random passerby, a tall boy with bright ginger hair.

  screams rose from the crowd, the unique sound of teenagers seeing their favorite, most handsome celebrity crush, and in the following roar of sound as the poor boy was swarmed without warning, venti was able to slip away, flicking his sunglasses back down onto his face. 

  you met him in the center of the crosswalk, quickly starting to walk again. you chided him gently, smacking his arm with the back of your hand at his impulse to suddenly disappear, and he apologized, only sort of meaning it.

  “part of me is kinda annoyed that someone like childe would get more attention than me,” venti remarked wryly, hooking his mask with one finger and pulling it back over his face, careful to tuck his two toned braids into the back of his hoodie. “with his one-note singing, he shouldn’t have half the audience i do.”

  “sure, but don’t worry, that won’t last for long,” you said, your eyes sparkling with determination as you strode confidently through the streets; venti’s slightly shorter legs scrambled to keep up with your quick, assertive pace. “you’ll be a superstar someday. i’ve always been sure of it.”

  there was a sudden, strange feeling of a lump in his throat; his green eyes flickered to your back, the 6REEZE tour hoodie that you were wearing and its list of sold out dates written down the smooth, high quality fabric, and strange whispers of memory fluttered into his mind. a thousand days spent practicing, the moments right before rising onto the stage, his heart pounding so hard he could barely think and sick nervousness boiling in his stomach, rendering him almost unable to speak. and you, of course, holding out a water bottle, a sheet of lyrics, a helping hand, as always.

  his breath caught and a frantic whirl of thoughts spilled into his mind. the feeling that there’s something he was always overlooking before, something obvious that he never noticed even though it was right in front of his face, like he was missing something crucial, something so important that now that he had noticed its absence it was like a puzzle piece had been cut out of his still beating heart.

  wind blew past his face, and time seemed to slow down in the next second; you turned, a smile flitting to your lips and the words “hey, go a bit faster!” falling into the air as your hand flashed out, connecting the space between you, and grabbed his wrist. in that moment, there was no other way to describe you than… angelic, with golden sunshine drenching your face, your fingers cool against his skin, and he struggled, suddenly, to take air into his lungs.

  “anyway, what did you leave for?” you asked, abruptly breaking the spell. venti shook his head, disoriented. “w… what? oh – i,” he held up his paper bag sheepishly. “i wanted to get a coffee.”

  “oh? from where?”

  “just this café i like,” he said, almost embarrassed of the answer. “well, can i try something?” you asked. he fumbled in the bag for a moment before taking out a small pastry, a layered cube of strawberry shortcake. you popped it into your mouth and chewed for a moment, and he found himself holding his breath with the hope that you would like it.

  “wow, that’s really good,” you said with surprise. “can i come with you next time?”

  there was no excuse for the shot of adrenaline that rushed through him at the innocent question, and he was so thankful that you weren’t facing him as a giddy smile crossed his face. “sure thing!” he said, brightening, and quickened once more to continue in pace with you.

  the third person to melt into your fascinating mind is kaedehara kazuha, the songwriter of the group and main rapper; a fan favorite for his calm and relaxing exterior that belies a fierier soul underneath. it helped, of course, that he wrote extremely popular and romantic songs. you had a strong friendship with him, as he was the member you had known the longest, practically since he was a trainee and you were both much younger.

  right now, he was laying on the floor of your apartment and listening to a demo track of a new song, already planning the words to the sweet, delicate piano melody, while you sat on the couch scribbling in a spiral bound notebook, eyebrows knit in a concentrated expression. you heaved a sigh, ripping out a sheet of paper and crumpling it into a ball before tossing it on the floor frustratedly. kazuha paused the music. “what’s wrong?”

   “i’m just – trying to figure this out,” you sighed. “the words just won’t come to me.”

  “what are you writing?”

  “… poetry,” you said begrudgingly. when he laughed, hiding the surprised and excited thump his heart made when he heard that word, and then the following shock at those emotions, you threw a pillow at him. “stop it! you write this kind of thing too!” 

  “yes, but i get paid to do it,” he pointed out, refraining to mention that it was also his main pastime outside of his idol duties. “can i see it?” you shook your head instantly, and his lips tugged downwards into a frown. so, [name] writes poetry. what a coincidence. his eyes glittered, fixing his unhappy look on you.

  you closed your notebook and gave him a big smile, slightly pained in a way he could only recognize due to your years of friendship. “really, it’s just a hobby. it’s about time for dinner anyways. shall i start making something?”

  “no, show me,” he requested, tilting his head, dark red eyes locked onto yours. “please?” he wanted to see them so badly, a hint of desperation seeped into his voice. he almost cringed at that sound. but why was he so curious? of course, he inexplicably loved the idea that you had one of the same hobbies as him. composing poetry and songs? it was as if you were made to be together.

  he bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, and tasted salt on his tongue for a second, the pain jolting him back into his right mind. partners, of course, is what he meant. friends. nothing more than that. how could he be having such stupid thoughts about you, his oldest friend? 

  your voice drew him into reality again. “okay, fine, just don’t judge me. it’s… really dumb,” you admitted, closing your eyes and cracking open the spine of the notebook. kazuha ran his fingertips over the paper, ridged with line after line of your cramped handwriting in thick ink. as he took in the contents of the pages, his eyes widened. this is…

  “a love poem?” he said aloud. you squeezed your eyes shut as he started to read the words halfway down the page. “… lost to me like dandelion fluff / i grasp for another handful / another breath, wishing for you cupped in my hands.” he rocked backwards, clapping his hand over his mouth not soon enough to muffle the laughter.

  your cheeks colored and you snatched the notebook back. “ugh, kazuha! get out of here! i didn’t even finish it yet!”

  “no, no! i’m not laughing at you!” he said, though he was a bit. such a tacky way of words, and yet… “it’s just so sentimental, i never would have expected this from you. it’s, sort of sweet.”

  “well, you never know,” you said, placated slightly by his words. “and anyway, i’d never show it to anyone but you. it’s just for fun.”

  you’d never show it to anyone but me? logically, he knew there were a thousand reasons for you to say that, ranging from him being another poet, to him being your close friend. and yet, he latched onto the one he wanted the most. 

  “who’s it for?” he asked, as casually as he could, as calmly and slowly as he could. as if there was no meaning behind that question at all. as if the idea that such a poem could maybe, possibly be for him didn’t make his heart explode into fireworks of joy, without him even knowing why. no, not quite; of course, he knew why. his job was writing love songs, anyway. he had just never thought that of all people, it would be you who caused these feelings he’d sang about a thousand times yet never experienced.

  “i’m not telling,” you said, sticking your tongue out childishly before looking embarrassed. his heart plummeted into his stomach. even though it was an answer to be expected. he couldn’t explain this crushing disappointment at your refusal to speak. “w-well, anyway… why don’t we go get something to eat now?”

  it was unmistakably an escape from a conversation you didn’t want to continue. yet, kazuha wanted to ask you to wait, so he could see another poem of yours. even if it led to heartache, he wanted to know so badly that it almost hurt. the possibility of you writing something like that for him was something he wanted more than anything in that instant. and yet…

  more than that, he wanted you to be comfortable around him. that was truly what he wanted most. so… “okay, sure,” he obliged, and you set down your precious notebook as the two of you stood to leave, him casting one more glance towards it and wondering after its tantalizing contents. 

  as you both stood in the elevator, waiting for its descent to the bottom floor, he turned to you. “hey, what was the name of that poem again?”

  “dandelions,” you said, another embarrassed flush tinting the tips of your ears. “it’s silly, but— ”

  “no, it isn’t. dandelions,” he repeated, the word tingling on his tongue. it felt like he was on the verge of something new, somehow, that familiar warm, sparking feeling he always got right before an idea for a brand new project. “i like it.”

  the next single is soon released, titled wishes in the breeze, a heartfelt ode laced with sugary-sweet declarations of love for an unknown person. you find a copy of the tape– its cover plastered with an image of the boys sitting together with their backs to the camera, kazuha in the middle, one eye showing as he turns his head– outside your apartment door; in the liner notes of the tape are shreds of a poem in red ink.

  the third to fall prey to your beauty is shikanoin heizou, the main visual and most outgoing, charismatic member of 6REEZE. of course, he’s quite talented as the other members, but his true strength is in his magnetic personality that draws in new fans almost every day. he always knows just what to say, a perfect comeback locked and loaded on his tongue and ready to burst no matter what the situation is.

  after wishes in the breeze won ‘best new pop song’ at a prestigious teyvat awards event, you and 6REEZE were invited to a celebration dinner with many other famous artists. heizou was standing with the other members and holding small talk with a punk-pop girl band trio that recently released an album that swept the awards, golden apple. 

  “heya, [name] just came in,” the shortest girl said, tilting her head towards the entrance. “ain’t  that ya manager, heizou?” he smiled instantly, and agreed, “ah, yes!” with a gleeful look on his face. “i wasn’t sure they were going to show up, they don’t usually like big crowds, but i guess this was too important of an opportunity to pass up.”

  he swiveled to greet you, hand already raising in a wave, and as his gaze landed on you, the world seemed to stop turning for a moment, the words falling out of his mouth and disappearing.

  highlighted underneath the dancing lights, there you were; in a forest green tuxedo, the silken material of your sleeves almost glowing as you rubbed the back of your neck nervously. your hair was styled in such a way that you looked like royalty, sweeping over your shoulders, and when you turned your head slightly and the bright color of your eyes was caught in the glimmer from the spotlights above, he could just feel his heart in his throat and the bittersweet taste of longing.

  heizou was unable to speak for a few seconds, almost unable to breathe. it was lucky for him that kazuha caught sight of you and waved you over, because he couldn’t get a single syllable out, let alone a greeting. you crossed the room to the small group.

  “how fancy,” kuni scoffed, sharp nose turned up as he jutted out his chin. “no wonder it took you so long to get here, primping like this.”

  you pulled at your sharp collar. “it’s a little stifling,” you said with just a hint of sweat to betray your flustered interior underneath your calm expression. “i don’t usually get dressed up like this, but… it’s for such a special occasion, and it’s a little fun too – ”

  “it looks amazing, [name]!” venti exclaimed, stars in his eyes as he grabbed your hand and pumped it up and down. “seriously, the best! you didn’t have to go so all out for us, we would have been happy with just a fancy sash or something,” he laughed. you accepted his handshake without a change of expression, as the other boys oohed and aahed dutifully.

  “i mean, come on! this is so fancy, i’m shocked to see [name] all dressed up and looking sharp! i wish we could see you like this more often,” venti continued, turning to look at heizou with a smile. “right?” 

  the question was surely meant innocently, as a query for the other contender for flirtiest member. it was most likely that venti had expected only a oh yes, it’s quite stunning, but not as stunning as [name]’s cute face by itself. but heizou had no smart remark, instead offering only a “yeah, it’s fine,” with a flat, unchanging face, before turning on his heel and practically running for the exit. “hey!” venti said, surprised, as if trying to call him back, but it was no use; the red-head boy was already out of earshot in a matter of seconds.

  “ah… ? heizou?” you said, taken aback as you watched heizou’s rapidly retreating frame. “did i… do something wrong?” a strange sadness seemed to fill your chest, and your hand fell away to rest limply by your side.

  pushing through the double doors, heizou finally managed to escape. he ducked around a corner, hunching over and staring at the floor, his breathing fast with exertion and agitation. “that’s… just not fair,” he mumbled into his hand, palm pressed to his mouth and face burning red. “to suddenly show up in something like that? it’s practically playing dirty… ”

  he sunk to the floor, getting dust on the legs of his suit, but he barely noticed, burying his face in his hands with only thoughts of you rushing through his head. he had no doubt the others were wondering after him, but there was no chance he could go back in his current state, barely able to think straight. 

  “man, [name]… you really are dreamy.” 

  though the mood of the celebration was dampened by heizou’s partial absence and your dejection, you managed to go to bed that night with a smile on your face due to the fun atmosphere and the others making a special effort to cheer you up. the next time you saw heizou, he presented you with a gift box tied in an intricate knot with a silk ribbon. inside, was a less formal version of that outfit, in a popular style that you could wear out on the street.

  “because you said you thought it was fun,” he says, tucking his hands behind his back to conceal their shaking. “i thought you would like something like this. to wear whenever you want. but if it’s too much, or silly, i – ”

  “i love it, heizou,” you say firmly, cutting him off. “thank you.” when you hesitantly pulled him into a hug, his arms came up automatically to wrap around your back, his breathing almost stopping with an nervous thrill that traveled up his spine. he wondered for a second if you could feel his heartbeat and how fast it was pounding inside his chest, before pushing the thought aside and letting himself just feel the warmth of your arms for that short moment.

  the fifth person captivated by your kindness is aether, the youngest member and the least experienced, with no solid lead position. every person in 6REEZE has their fair share of fans, but he had a noticeable lack of support compared to the others; the company that managed the group, SHOGUNATE ENTERTAINMENT, just seemed to have it out for him, barely giving him any solos or spending any time marketing him.

  of course, no one ever voiced their concerns at his treatment aloud, not when he seemed so truly optimistic. nobody wanted to be the person to make that grin disappear. spending all day, every day practicing, waving the others off when they asked him to take a break, every moment was dedicated to the betterment of his idol persona, never letting that golden smile drop from his face.

   it felt like it was a thousand degrees on the set of their next m/v, yet aether was still practicing, the sound of their upcoming release today and tomorrow blaring through his ears. it was the only song he had heard in at least a week, but he couldn’t take a break for even a second if he wanted to remember the whole thing without one mistake.

  when his twenty-third(? he lost count around number fifteen) runthrough of the song finally finished, leaving him kneeling on the floor, he shut off the music. in the silence of the empty room, there was some kind of pounding still echoing in his head, making it hard for him to think straight. as he rose to his feet, his vision blacked out for a moment.

  “aether, you’re still here?” said a sudden voice, laced with surprise. he looked up to find you, apparently having just entered and in the midst of rearranging a couple of set pieces. as your gaze traveled over him, your eyes widened slightly. “are you okay? you look so pale.”

  “yeah, ‘m fine, just – just tired,” he mumbled, swaying on his feet slightly. your worried expression swam before his eyes. “is it hot in here, or… ?” were his last words before he stumbled and fell, the ground rushing up to meet him faster than he could react with his exhausted, nonresponsive limbs, eyes closing and unable to think properly.

  huh… ?

  the world pulsed around him in blinking black dots. somehow, he hadn’t hit the ground yet. it felt wrong that he would still be falling; he forced his eyes open with great struggle, and found that you had caught him. how strange… why couldn’t i move… ?

  you gently lowered yourself to the floor, allowing him to rest his head against your leg. “aether,” you said, your voice pained and worried, “how hard have you been practicing? have you taken any breaks today?”

  “no, i was trying to learn the choreography without – ” the words caught in his dry throat, breath scraping painfully, and you looked even more worried as he coughed. “without pausing at all.”

  a tch sound escaped your lips, expression more concerned than he’d ever seen it before. “you must be so dehydrated.” you bit your lip. “aether, you know you’re just hurting yourself this way. this level of work… it’ll hinder your progress, rather than help it.”

  despite the discouraging nature of your words, it was gratitude for that acknowledgement, and some thick, warm emotion that brought a strange moisture to aether’s eyes. he tried to rub at his eyes, but his hand was shaking too hard. “no, i have to do this.”

  “why?” you demanded.

  he barely knew how to put it into words. “i’m just… the weak link,” he said, tears pricking for a moment before he blinked them away, one hand resting on his temples and shielding his face from your concerned gaze. “i’m not good at anything, so i have to practice and practice to make up for – ”

  “you’re not the weak link, aether,” you said firmly, your voice so kind and earnest that it almost brought tears to his eyes yet again. “you’re like – the glue, you can do everything perfectly well. there’s nothing wrong with not having a specialty. you work so hard, and always go out of your way to support everyone. don’t let me hear you talking like that, okay?”

  “but – ” he tried to protest, then almost melted underneath the force of your angry, anxious eyes. even with the embarrassment of being in this situation, there was some foreign ember of warmth in his chest that burned hotter with every word from you. he couldn’t explain it, but it was like hearing those things from you was rejuvenating somehow; soaking into his body and leaving him feeling looser, calmer in its wake. he didn’t know if it was because it was you specifically, and he was almost afraid to think about it. 

  “no buts!” you snapped. “i refuse to listen to you thinking this way about yourself. you’re incredibly capable and strong, and don’t you dare bottle this up and work yourself to the point of passing out again. i know you can do it, without punishing yourself for no reason. it’ll be okay.”

  “… okay,” he nodded. you pressed your hand against his forehead and winced. “you better not be getting sick. now go home and rest up. i don’t want to see you here again until tomorrow afternoon, got it?”

  you walked him to the exit, making sure he drank almost the entire contents of his water bottle, with orders to go to sleep extra early. yet, even with those directions, he tossed and turned almost all night, still feeling the force of your laser-hot gaze every time he closed his eyes. 

  the day filming started, there was no doubt in him that he could nail the entire choreography. even xiao commented on his movements seeming more sharp than usual, his voice more fluid as well. of course, there was a reason for that, but he would never have voiced it aloud that he wanted just one more second of your eyes on him. just one more word of praise that felt so much more real coming from you than anyone else.

  there was a six-second focus on him for the second chorus, and he poured all of his saved-up energy into that moment. “i want you here, i want you with me in my arms,” he sang, throwing his entire body into the next twirling movement, and pointed straight at the camera with the unfaltering wish that you would see and know he was speaking to you. “you’re my love, the one i’m wishing for, today, tomorrow, forever!”

  the sixth member of 6REEZE to love you is xiao, the center and leader of the group. though STORM’S EYE has no shortage of love for him due to his mesmerizing voice and mature good looks, he is the least social of the boys, known as ‘ice prince’ because he’s so aloof and cool at fan events. there is no one in public knowledge that he chooses to let his guard down around; even in vlogs, he barely socializes and keeps to himself, practicing or listening to music on bulky headphones.

  SHOGUNATE ENTERTAINMENT works mainly out of an enormous compound filled with training rooms and facilities for all of their groups and other productions. the residence reserved for 6REEZE is attached to it. technically, it could be shared by the group, but the only people who really live there are venti and xiao, and venti is almost always out on other business (or so he claims) anyway.

  the roof of the apartment has an amazing view of the entire city and the sky. it’s the perfect place to go when a break and fresh air is needed, meaning xiao can almost always be found there. and now, after an incident in which a very important standalone project where he was meant to collaborate with a girl group has been cancelled due to strong pushback from fans, he’s vanished, and you know exactly where he’s gone.

  watching the door still swinging shut from his sudden exit, president miko clicked her tongue carelessly. “ah, so immature. do you remember when we were young enough to be able to throw tantrums whenever things went awry, ei, dearest?” she tilted her head at the purple haired woman, who sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “we could secure another collaboration, but apparently not with any girl group. perhaps xing/yun or LUPICAL… ?” she mused. “could someone please go after him?”

  “i can – ” kuni volunteered, already raising from his seat, before you rocketed to your feet, pushing your chair in. “i’m on it! please email me your consensus later!” the other boys watched, taken aback, as you gave a hasty bow and practically sprinted out.

  you found him on the roof, of course, leaning over the balcony with a stony line to his jaw. you approached, and he raised his hand without greeting. “what happened back there?” you asked tentatively.

  “how can they take away an opportunity so selfishly?” he spat. you weren’t sure whether he was talking about the fans or SHOGUNATE ENTERTAINMENT, but nodded anyway. as the leader, he was naturally under the most stress, and when he got into a bad mood there was nothing to do but wait it out. 

  “i don’t know if i can do this anymore,” he said, feeling the smallest crack in his voice and dragging a hand down his face. “we’re always being watched, always having to obey stupid rules that don’t even make sense! this was an important collaboration, i’m not a commodity that will lower in value if i work with a girl! if our fans can’t handle us acting like normal people, they aren’t even our fans, are they?”

  “i know,” you said, trying to soothe him, placing a hand on his arm only for it to be shaken off. he glared out at the city for a moment, eyes focused above the horizon. “it’s just not fair,” you continued. “but xiao, there are alternatives – ”

  “i don’t want alternatives,” he interrupted, “i’m not sure if i even want to be an idol sometimes. all these rules are too much.” he turned and met your eyes. “and you know the worst one of all.”

  “of course i do.” you reached out and tucked a lock of hair behind his ear. “but are you serious about not wanting to be an idol? because, if you ever chose to leave the company, i… can also leave.”

  “you can’t put your career in jeopardy just for this.” he gave a frustrated huff. “this stupid company is just so stifling. i didn’t think being an idol would be like this when i first signed up.”

  “well, that’s why i’m here, right?” you offered. “to make your life easier. my career isn’t as important, so as your manager, i could – ”

  “you’re more than my manager.” his tone was gentler, the earlier roughness somehow melting away, and the words were quiet enough that nobody could possibly hear, meant only for you as he tilted his head, golden eyes finding yours. “you know that.”

  “xiao.” 

  “i won’t let you endanger your own job prospects if i leave.”

  you stared at each other for a moment. the wind stirred your hair around your face, framing it in the most beautiful way. his heart caught in his throat. the painful look of uncertainty mixed with determination that you wore was sure to be mirrored on his own face.

  “i would never stay here, without you,” you said finally, your voice tight. “i’ll go wherever you go.”

  he opened his mouth, unable to form words as a response to this, and you looked at him. there was nothing in your eyes but earnestness, and he thought for the millionth time how heart-stoppingly beautiful you were. he cupped your face with both hands, and there you were in silence for a long second, the cotton candy sunset gleaming down onto you.

  “[name],” was the word that finally escaped his lips, taking in your sweet scent that enveloped you like an angel’s aura. you wrapped your arms around his neck, murmuring xiao in the quietest voice, a secret that wreathed through the air, like smoke curling into a calm breeze. “i love you.”

  you kissed him, then; and when your lips met, he felt his worries melt away, and the overwhelming thought that he couldn’t care less if the whole world knew about your relationship; it was like he could feel everything, like he was frozen and time only started moving again when you were together. eternity could pass in a heartbeat and he would never know, not when he was holding you.

  whether 6REEZE was together or not, whether he stayed an idol, or the trifling problems of his everyday life – nothing like that seemed to matter when he was with you. it felt inconsequential. no matter what the company wanted from him, he could do it; as long as he could continue to kiss you like this, he would do anything in the world. 

© lumiconic ; please reblog and follow if enjoyed

[my-darling-boy]

Have you had any ✨Ghost Experiences✨ in Scotland yet? Meet any new ghosts???

Ohhhh plenty, but far too many to list without going off on a ramble haha

We’ve done many overnights in castles and old buildings up and down the UK with a team of investigators which has led to really neat experiences, some of them absolutely poignant. I think my favourite interaction has been with a sweetheart of a young seaman called William aboard the RRS Discovery docked in Dundee, also the best K2 session I’ve ever had was there. But yeah, various castles, historic buildings, manors, prisons, etc with some really fascinating results.

I do like how it’s also putting the mediumship to the test which is something I still don’t really like bringing up in general to people but I have apparently shocked investigators/employees at these places with describing events, people, and other things with detail that is not even public or only known privately by people who frequent that location. Nearly all locations I’ve never been to and make a point not to read up on them before I go, which makes these instances more compelling? I often don’t even know the significance of what I’m (sheepishly) describing only to be told I just described a specific thing that happened in a room when there’s no way I could know about said thing. One of the best instances of this was on the RRS Discovery when trailing behind the group in the lower decks, I stopped suddenly. It felt as though something SMACKED very hard and very sudden right where I was standing, someone had lost their life in this very spot. I thought with the boilers around perhaps someone had been hit somehow and died or maybe fallen from the above platform and hit their head on the metal below but was told there were no known records of someone dying in that room and that the platforms didn’t exist at the time. I was perplexed by this as I was 100% sure something had happened there but I just ignored it, maybe I was wrong. We get up to the top deck finally and are told about a boy who, in 1901, tragically fell from the crows nest and died. The investigator and I suddenly realised I had been standing directly below the spot he would have hit on the upper deck when he fell. Another would be a nice young man I’d encountered at a private castle who seemed to be wearing some sort of chainmail and white tunic, followed me around for most of the night, and at one point I picked up on a story about a strange looking gold disc with all these markings on it on the alter in the chapel which he immediately told me not to ask about and refused to elaborate more, I had no idea why he was so adamant about this. I later learned after enquiry the castle historians have documented the place being used by the Templars and it’s a private fact at this location that the Templars have buried artefacts beneath the castle they are working to recover… most notably, beneath the chapel. I’d be talking for ages if I described the other occurrences, but that’s one I’ll always remember!

All and all, I do actually recommend doing it, even if you don’t believe in the stuff, because you get entire historic locations basically all to yourself, at night, which is cooler. I once sat for nearly an hour in a 200 year old jail on the floor, in the dark, at 2 AM, just chilling. On free roam while everyone is usually at base, I’ve been able to explore places by myself, in the dark, opening doors to rooms not even shown to us, panning my torch to old paintings and artefacts in basements to attics and bedrooms and so much more. I’ve sat alone in century old ships and played sea shanties which echoed hauntingly down the passageways. Sprawled out in the pews of medieval chapels in the pitch dark, wandered dark castle corridors alone, sometimes I’ll sing out old songs and just listen to it drift out through the halls and rooms. You feel like some character in a novel, it’s quite a liminal space! Like all these places where so many other people came before you, where people lived and died, sometimes even right where you’re sitting, and you’re able to lay out on the stones in the dark with it all and just feel connected to it yk?

Anyway that still ended up being a ramble HAHA so yeah! I recommend it for both believers and those less inclined because at the end of the day, you’ve basically got several hours of private access to historical locations, at night, no tourists, and sometimes to places the public isn’t allowed at all, and hey maybe something Strange will happen while you’re alone in the darkness.

[rosemarycovet]

In my room- billy loomis x reader

(billys pov)

“are you gonna let me in?

“hello?helllooo?”I heard tapping from my window knowing exactly who it was

I was trying not the drift off in class as stu rambled about some nonsense when 2:45 the bell went off

thank god I thought to my self I got up and quickly left the class room speed walking through the halls with my head held low

I didn’t bother acknowledging anyone

many people think i’m odd just because I keep to my self I only talk to stu and our ‘friend group’

which are other people I don’t consider worthy of my time

but I mostly walk alone

avoiding girls that gush over me and the pathetic boys at school trying to start small talk with me

as I walk out the school building I avoid the sunlight with my chalky tone

some may say i’m a gaslighter and manipulative which they aren’t wrong

with my ‘piercing eyes’

I get home I don’t say anything

like there’s anyone to greet ain’t no one there

my mother had abandoned me

and my father is barely ever home,I don’t care.I walk in and right up stairs to my room

I go straight to bed take a quick nap and just wait patiently until dark because that’s when the real show starts

———————

‘Tap tap tap’

———————

I hear from my window I smirk knowing exactly who it is

I see her

(y/n).my baby is what I like to call her

she’s as beautiful as ever as she gives me a sweet soft smile

she’s young and pretty

she comes to my room and we talk at night

she’s demonic and bloody in my eyes

but she holds me tight every night i’m in my bedroom with her i’m never alone

and I kiss her cold lips until morning comes then she’s gone and i’m off

but she only exists in the dark of my room

as me and my ‘friends’ are sitting at the fountain for lunch I sit next to stu as randy sits in the middle of stu and tatum and Sidney is next to tatum

god how much I hate Sidney she’s the reason my mom left me

yet she doesn’t even know

I kept catching her staring at me yet pretended as if I didn’t notice

I know she likes me it’s obvious

but my feelings are the opposite for her

I wish she would die

I wish I could kill her right now

I have planned to kill her with the rest of the group but making stu my partner

there’s so much of sidney I can’t stand same with the rest of them as they talk about meaningless stuff

and all I can think about is my love

I’d do anything for her

as me and her laid in my bed I do adore her as I said before I’d do anything for her and it’s always in my room that we’re the closes

I try to smile but i’m always frontin

but I do love her and at least that’s something.She doesn’t talk much but when she does it gets cold

usually we just lay there and we hold eachother

we’re lovers we don’t need others

certainly i’m all she needed and she is everything I need I don’t need anyone else but her

one night one of my mother’s cat that she also had abandoned had jumped up on the covers

and it scared my baby,cause she don’t like pets.

she had scrambled out of the room

It had made my blood boil that the cat had frighten my baby so I twisted it’s fucking head of its neck

“look baby it’s bloody it’s gone it’s doomed” I had cried out to her

“please come back to the room..don’t ignore me” I begged her

this was more than a sick love story

If she was ever to leave me or was left with out her I’d bring a gun shot to school

and I will for any reason if she wants me to

I hate it that she has to leave when the light comes on and if I had it my way the fucking sun would be gone

sometimes when we’re kissing I start shaking when she slips me that tongue it taste like bacon

she looks sad

uh-oh something wrong.my baby’s upset

“baby what’s wrong?” I asked her as I tuck a strain of her hair behind her ear

“billy one of the neighbors kid had spotted me sneaking in and now I can’t come back cause they know our secret”

unless I can make them keep it if I do she’ll still be able to come

the next day i’m in their backyard as I slipped my ghost face costume on with a shotgun and knife

cut the screen,I went and found the kid

blew a blow of spaghetti to the side of it’s head Then their daddy was next he ran down the hall as I chased after him he was quick to fall as I shredded his throat.

I gripped the knife and started stabbing the shit out of his wife

after Is was done with them I went back home a bloody mess still in my ghostface costume with a job well done

as I washed up in the sink and but the bloody costume in the washing machine waiting for baby to come

like I said I do anything for her

I waited and and hated for 3-4 hours to hear her tapping

then finally she arrived as always she had a soft smile on her face as I held a smirk

“baby I got rid of them you don’t have to worry”

she stared at me a bit surprised

“you got rid of them?..for me?”

“of course baby I’d do anything for you”

she smiled and ran up to me as I picked her up and took her in my room

[viperwhispered]

A ficlet to expand on the thoughts I shared here about Emi in book seven (so this will contain some spoilers).

You can find more information on my yuusona Emi and her relationship with Jamil here on the masterlist.

“Mrah, so where are we now?” Grim demanded to know. Sebek and Silver were both looking around, clearly on guard.

They were standing in front of a red, wooden two-story house, the gravel crunching under their feet. On their right, they could see apple trees, berry bushes and a small meadow split in two by a dirt road. To their left, partially obscured by the foliage, was an assortment of agricultural buildings, their roofs sagging and walls grayed out with age. And behind everything, surrounding them from three sides, there was water peeking through the trees, glimmering in the sunlight.

Suddenly the broom that had been leaning against the porch flew into Emi’s hand.

“Knew it!” she said with a delighted laugh.

Without giving herself time to think, Emi turned around, bursting into a sprint down the road on the hillside, away from the house. Running never was this light in the real world, but here… She pushed off the ground, spread her arms - and remained aloft, her feet tucked beneath her as she glided over the road and higher up to the air.

“Emi!”

Sebek sounded angry, Silver concerned, Grim baffled, yet the confusion was evident on all of their faces.

“Remember what you said about the dreams being tied to the person who’s dreaming them, Silver?” Emi called out from above them, her voice tinged with mirth as she pushed herself higher. It felt a little silly, flapping her arms like this to get higher in the air, but if it worked…

“Well, this dream is mine.”

She angled her palms, thumbs tilting downwards, and glided back towards the rest of the group, landing softly next to them.

“There’s a few things that tend to happen quite often in my dreams, and I did wonder if I’d be able to do them now as well. Seems like it works.”

Emi walked towards the house, easily tossing the tub meant for gathering rainwater high up in the air. She lifted a palm, cupped her hand, and the tub hovered, only descending as Emi allowed it to.

“But you are magicless, human. What is the meaning of this?” Sebek demanded.

Emi only gave him an amused look, too exalted to be bothered by Sebek’s usual brusqueness.

“Not in my dreams, though. Not even before I got to Twisted Wonderland, even if I thought magic was only fiction,” she responded lightly, letting the tub settle on the grass next to the garden swing.

“So what is this place?” Silver asked.

“Oh. It’s my grandma’s house. I often spend time here in the summer - or at least used to, when in my own world.”

Which meant that they were seeing a piece of the world Emi comes from, plucked from her memories. There was a new curiosity in all of them, even Sebek, as that realization set in.

For her part, Emi tried to swallow down the homesickness swelling up her throat and stepped up to the front door, turning the handle before pausing.

“Oh yeah. Malleus did say he’d make sure we’re only having good dreams… But still, be careful if it’s dark somewhere, or if you can’t turn on the lights. Upstairs, especially, and in the basement.”

Grim's eyes widened.

“Careful? Is there something dangerous in here?” he yowled.

“Only if it turns into a nightmare. And with the four of us, we'll be fine. I often beat things to pulp myself nowadays, at least if I'm lucky,” Emi said casually, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“Just what kind of dreams do you have, human?” Sebek demanded.

After all… This timid girl from another world certainly didn't look like someone for such violence, even in her dreams.

“I suppose there's a fair bit of fighting and running and stopping bullets and throwing people around,” was Emi's wry response.

Which certainly did not lessen everyone's confusion any. Would she really be able to do all those things here, just like that?

While they were there, Emi took the opportunity to show everyone around. Talking about how her family would gather here for Christmas or Midsummer celebrations, showing off the sauna in the house - and the second one down by the lakeshore.

But she also tried out a few other things: passing through windows without breaking the glass, jumping up to the roof and gliding off again. All the while, there was that expression of delighted mirth on her features, the enjoyment of being able to do such impossible things - even if it all was a dream in the end.

There was even a part of Emi that wondered if she'd even be able to challenge Malleus in this place. Probably a foolish notion, considering his power and experience, but still…

At the very least, she would definitely need to ask the others to help her with some experimentation.

This will depend on his things end after book seven, but it's very much possible that at some point Emi will ask Malleus to let her visit her dreamspace again. Sure, it kinda fuels her homesickness, since she tends to dream of familiar places, but it also lets her experience being powerful in a way she rarely gets to feel - especially in Twisted Wonderland, where she's surrounded by mages.

They might even be trying things out together with Malleus to figure out just what kind of things Emi can do in the dreams, when she doesn't have to worry about waking up too soon.

Though I can certainly imagine Malleus being surprised that she’d let him put her to sleep like that, after what happened when he overblotted and how displeased Emi was with those events.

Tagging @scint1llat3 @diodellet @moonyasnow @bibi-cha

If anyone else would like to be tagged for Emi / jamemi things, let me know!

[oncewhenalongtimeago]

The Jealous One pt 10

Pairing: Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Fem!Reader

Words: 4,344

You really don’t know how to make bread. Hiccup doesn't know how, either.

Tags: fem!reader, silly, ambiguous timeline, Snotlout Jorgenson, Ruffnut and Tuffnut Thorston, Jealous!Hiccup, Post RoB/DoB, Pre-RTTE, unedited

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Oh hel.

You stared down at the crumpled and half-covered plants by your feet sitting just at the base of a sheer rock wall, grimacing deeply at the wilted stems and leaves. Not a single sprout looked at all viable.

You bemoaned the thought that it might have been your fault that they ended up in such a manner- mud fights weren’t exactly conducive to healthy plants, nor were mudslides, which happened on Berk with a higher frequency than you thought they should, and the way it looked, the plants had been picked much too thin to make any kind of recovery- under normal circumstances, they should have been able to avoid any measurable damage- one or two mudballs, especially, but they looked sort of miserable, actually.

You wondered who had been picking them dry.

You sighed, feeling the full force of the sun on your back. You were sure you’d have to take responsibility, though you’d love if not another soul knew about your involvement. You could try and fix it up on your own, but-

You processed the vague sound of crunching mud- and after being so suddenly pulled from your musings, you nearly startled. 

There went that idea.

You looked to your side with wide, uncomfortable eyes to greet another pair of slumped shoulders and startled eyes.

There stood Hiccup in his casual clothes, old green tunic pulled from what was most likely a deep crevasse in the piles of his room’s junk hidden under his work desk and his bed.

“I, ah-” Hiccup started, his voice slightly more nasal than usual, “Had nothing to do with that.”

You grimaced harder, turning fully to face him.

“I think I’ve been- I’ve been picking them dry.” Hiccup said, shuffling to match you, his palm grazing his elbow before coming up to brush the hair on his forehead, running it down the back of his head until it nearly reached his neck,  “My leg- It gets worse when I’m, ah- …”

You glowered at him as he dropped his arm. You hoped your eyes were conveying your displeasure- culprit.

“It’s not exactly… Comfortable.”

He started shuffling and winced. 

 You could see the point at which he considered shifting again but decided better of it.

“You need to add more padding.” You said, brows furrowed evenly.

You knew he already had some padding in his pant leg, sewn to fit his stub, but you’d always thought he might need more in the socket of his prosthetic. You’d never said anything aloud, though- he, like you, could be quite stubborn and blind, especially when he was proud, which he was very often when it came to the things he’d built.

His original prosthetic was made by Gobber, though it was inspired heavily by Hiccup, which was something to be proud of, and Hiccup had had a hand in its care, of course, and had plans to add a few tweaks of his own.

“You think?” Hiccup asked sarcastically, looking at you with a grimace of his own. “I don’t think I’ll be able to carve in enough of a bed to keep any real padding- It’s going to shatter on me the next time I take a knife to it.”

“Yes.” You said, hoping he got blisters.

A brown-haired woman stormed past the porch on which you stood, wooden steps before you, rant wildly, though you could tell she was more impassioned by the wild mood than truly mad, "-I’d rather eat out home than be up at the hall, not with the bread- Have you noticed the difference? Audacious-brazen- the nerve-!”

You looked down at the bowl in your hands, covered by a rough, clean cloth, glowering at the poor excuse for a lump of dough you knew was cradled within it as you stood by the side between two buildings in Berk’s village center, waiting for Thora to return, listening albeit unwillingly to the rabble of the folks surrounding you.

You had been making a lot of bowls of dough recently.

It was unusually cheery out and even more bustling than usual- nearly everyone was out with a smile, though you found you weren’t so interested.

“-Aye, I ‘ave got a nice cutting of wood, if you find any interest– it’s good fer ‘em leg-making- and arm fixin,’ of ‘ourse, if yer fixing to make another, and I’m sure ye’d be needin’ some of ‘at soon.” You watched Johannes proposition Gobber out of the corner of your eye, who was clearly not paying him any attention, waving him off as he sipped out of his ‘cup’ arm- a mug with a handle stuck in it carved in the shape of a peg, easy to fit into his prosthetic’s screw hole.

Across the way, Johannes had a shallow cart of what looked to be just-recently-sanded strips of wood, thin and polite looking. 

You furrowed your brows, wishing you were anywhere but there as he droned on- It was a rare day whenever anyone was unable to sell on Berk -a miracle, really- for Gobber was an easy buyer.

A tall red-headed woman burst past you, storming down the dock, hauling a large cart of barrels behind her like a field animal, “-Streams of cloth-!”

He thought himself wise and clever, but the old blacksmith was perhaps the most susceptible on the island to the advertisement of any decent material. He had a chest full of useless materials, though he often ended up doing at least something with most trinkets.

You shuffled, boot soles scuffing against the wood below, hoping that your dough was enough to land you a job in the Great Hall- they were so picky up there, really, the old maids- though you had to admit your culinary skills were quite poor.

You resisted the urge to rub the back of your head, recounting, ruminating and stewing your most recent run-in with Hoark’s wife. 

She was the resentful type, one of the ones who had been pestering you and Snotlout with chores, not that he hadn’t deserved any of the pestering, but- Oh, you’d surely told her that if they wanted you to do any more you’d have to be paid. She’d respond by tossing a bowl towards your head, scolding you with something about public service and the Chief and dragons. 

You shot something sour back about never having been a Rider- and, well, you’d gotten a bowl to the head for your efforts.

Exhaustion- you were up to your ankles in it.

Your arms worked hard into the pristine wooden counter, pushing and rolling dough over ground grains in the open hall of one of Berk’s newest buildings- you weren’t sure anyone had settled in yet, and that was just as well.

As you’d recently learned, with the lack of a proper kitchen in the Great Hall- it was poor, really, they’d set up shop here for the time being. You wondered when it would finally be declared a community building like the library had been, something which you’d taken a lot of joy in.

It was about time, really, and it was awful nice not to have to ask around for books or notes anymore, though some of them had the tendency to go missing, and without any real book-watcher to keep an eye out, many missing slips went unaccounted for.

You rolled the dough below your hands- dark and grainy- extra hard into the wood, a dark brown, smoother than any other table you’d known, sanded and sealed in a way that made it harder for any dough-bits to get stuck in the cracks and rot-.

You prayed to any God that would listen that Thora would be impressed with it this time- cooking was one of the least indulged-in activities on Berk and was not one you were particularly well-practiced in. It was one of your least favorite activities, in fact, but you needed the job if you were going to buy back the plants before anyone had noticed them missing and kicked up a fuss.

As you’d learned through careful reading, some of them you could only get from Johann and you knew for sure that that old liar played favorites.

It was a shame you couldn’t get coin any other way, but most things had been accounted for and you’d been stoutly refused pay for most of your chores. 

You listened to the voices dancing and mingling from the open window, the wide open space and propped open doorway making you feel quite naked even separated by wooden walls from the outside. 

You nearly scowled as you heard the voice of a woman, a portly blonde -very pretty but also frazzled- and you heard the vague idea of some other voice as hers mingled with something deeper.

You wished you were making stew instead. You could handle an alright stew. Snotlout would like your stew… If you didn’t tell him you were the one who made it.

You cursed the dough for the highest time that day.

Really, You had asked around and now you were starting to suspect that the dough-making test had been a torture that Thora had cooked up just for you.

You wanted to scowl again as you heard the noise of a crowd approaching the doorway once again, though you released it slightly as they bustled past.

You were slightly displeased as a straggler separated from the bunch. You caught him out of the corner of your eye as he stumbled over wood, a pleasant expression over his face as he looked back, the cheering of Gobber now loud and obvious past the door frame, growing quieter as he walked away.

You’d been running into him a lot as of late.

“What’s going on out there?” You asked, before he could speak. “It sounds like everyone’s out throwing a party. It’s not Snoggletog, is it?”

You turned your attention away from the bread

“...Something like that,” Hiccup said dryly. “Pre-festival.”

“Really?” You braced your hands against the edge of the table, the wood below creaking as you leaned over it. 

You stuck your tongue out slightly, furrowing your brows at its sealed surface.

Despite its newness, it was a very poor counter; craftsmen had been, clearly, ignorant in the art of table-leg making, its sides slightly unbalanced and nailed into the floor. Compared to anything else you’d be able to find anywhere, it was probably one of the worst tables ever.

The other islands told you so- or, their trades, really. Berk’s carpenters could  be considered novice in comparison- the exploration of anything other than fighting was... A privilege the inhabitants of Berk had only been recently afforded. 

You wondered how the youngest children on Berk felt, having been able to grow up in a world without dragon fighting.

You’d always wondered as a kid, on war-torn Berk, how the other settlements had even been able to make something so smooth or beautiful. 

The quality of the simple chairs and tables Johann had brought over on the very rare occasion had seemed otherworldly and had been sold fast- to be fair, though, it would probably be much easier for anyone to achieve that same level of quality in craft in any place with fewer conflicts.

You cringed as another loud shout echoed in from the outside, where the sun from the window felt nearly burning against your eyes.

“Here, let me-” Hiccup pressed the house’s shutters closed before going back to close the door, kicking away the stopper with his foot. 

You felt every muscle in your body release as the noise from outside became more muted, looking down at your dough with new eyes.

It looked dark and slightly green, deflated like a sad, dry booger.

…It might have been overworked. You were no expert, though. 

“I’m going to have to make a new batch.” You grumbled.

Hiccup shrugged, coming around the side of the counter, “...It looks fine to me?”

You didn’t even mind as he edged closer, too busy mulling over your failed batch. 

“Are the others nearby?” You asked.  

They hadn’t been around recently, so of course you’d assumed they’d been off doing Rider-ly things with their leader. The suckers had ditched you pretty quickly after the mud fight and you hadn't had the chance to mingle with or chase after and wrestle down the others recently, either, as they’d probably wanted you to do- though you knew they’d wander back eventually. 

“...They’re up at the hall, probably, if you want to meet up with them. They’re managing the decorations, I think.” Hiccup said. 

You hadn’t been around, looking around for work, nagging the Vikings that strayed from the late meal. Berk’s hardest workers always skipped it, staying out way past the setting of the sun- they were usually the ones who needed assistance but were too stubborn to ask for it. They also tended to be fond of their alone time, too disconnected from Berk’s larger circle to absorb any of the most recent news- when you were younger, you’d imagined you might end up like one of them.

“Decorations?” You asked dryly. You wouldn’t put the Twins in front of a yak, much less in charge of any decorating. 

You were sure that hall would look unholy by the time you were able to see it again.

“Yeah,” HIccup said. His hair was slightly mussed and once again darkened, so he must have spent some more time in the forge, then. “You…?”

“Thora,” You grumbled, “She’s got me kneading bread all day, though I have no idea why.“

You turned his words over in your head again, then you perked up with confusion and slight skepticism, “You said something about a pre-festival?”

“Ah, yeah.” Hiccup said before he asked cautiously, “She’s… trying to hire you, isn’t she?” 

“That’s what she told me.” You grumbled, before sighing with defeat, letting your hands drop from the counter and giving way as your shoulders slumped,  “She’s been lying to me, though, hasn’t she?”

You stepped back from the corner and looked up finally, just in time to catch as Hiccup’s eyes darted from your feet back to your face. 

The hairs on the back of your neck prickled as you begrudgingly took him in, back in his leathers, which looked almost polished, his underclothes darned and hair groomed if not clean, which looked almost unusual compared to his now-usual windswept look.

Though you had been making efforts to keep your mind off of it, then you were startlingly aware of his close proximity, taking careful, quick, unwilling measures of it in your mind, pulling details and etching them into permanent stone tablets and storing them away on dark-toned, foreign shelves. 

You hadn’t had much time to get used to him again after your last real encounter.

The hug you shared- well, it had been, admittedly, private. It was a simple hug, though you loathed to share the experience with anyone else.

Hiccup pursed his lips, which was all you needed to know you’d been right. “She’s been… more focused on other things, so… Yeah.”

You grimaced, glancing away and nearly running a sticky hand over your head, before thinking better of it. 

…Great. You’d been roped into more unpaid labor.

Hiccup looked at you oddly again. 

You recalled something you’d heard earlier, and if he was right, then she was giving out your misshapen bread at the hall- maybe that was why. It was a mystery solved on his end.

You were probably not going to settle for a job at the hall, then, or risk the wrath of any others. You had to say that most of the bread that you tasted  in the hall was poor. Unfortunately, though, you knew yours was worse. 

“I don’t know how to make bread.” You confessed, glaring at the sacks of grains littering the corner of the hut and the sparse few bags slumped against the side of the counter table, melding to where table-leg-wall met wood flooring. “I don’t like making bread.”

You had half a mind to kick the sack, but you knew from experience that your toe would surely be stubbed, so you glared at the sizable boot-shaped indent in its side instead.

“...Does anyone like making bread?” 

You turned your glare towards Hiccup, before reminding him, “Festival.”

You were sure at this point you’d age early, with how often you’d been straining your brows.

“There’s going to be one,” You stated more than asked. 

“I-Ah, yeah.” Hiccup brought up his hand to rub at his chin, furrowing his brows, “I didn’t really- plan it, but, well, I think my Dad-Well, he sent a letter, and Gobber got ahold of it, and someone looked it over- there was something about expecting a warm welcome back, and harvest is soon, so-”

“Really?” You hummed, thinking. 

Unlike your other Viking kin, holidays were few and far between- you had only two, Thorsday Thursday and Snoggletog, though you were sure you’d heard talk of more in the most recent years- wishful thinking, for the most part, but if it was true, and the people had been decided arbitrarily and not that it was time to celebrate, then you were sure there would be tons more to come.

“Right,” Hiccup said, crossing his arms and shrugging. “...Do you need any help?”

You gave him a look that you knew would encompass all of your skepticism at once, something you knew would say, ‘are you serious?’

It was… Maybe a bit too obvious that you did, however, you did have your reservations. Hiccup wasn’t a great cook at all- he could manage a very, very simple meal but you knew he always relied on the Hall’s meals to get by, and he was far from a baker. 

At his responding second shrug you sighed and rolled your head back. Fine.

“C’mere,” You said, shuffling slightly to the side. 

Awkwardly, Hiccup moved right up next to you- he didn’t take the side you’d expected, which startled you some, causing the hairs on the back of your neck to prickle. 

A glance back at Hiccup’s face told you he regretted it too, his expression stiff and his shoulders too, awkward as if he didn’t know what to do with himself.

“What? So I…” Hiccup reached past you, his arm brushing against yours as he touched the dough. 

It would have been so easy for him to turn the rest of the way and press himself against your back- You sighed nearly shakily, pulling the dough in two, your arms jerking as the tough dough snapped in half. “I wouldn’t know.”

You handed the smaller half to him, then grimaced at it mournfully. “It’s too hard.”

“Is there… What do I do next?” Hiccup asked.

You grimaced. You’d run out of milk and other grains- most of the bags you had left were just oat and wheat. “More water and dough- that is all I’ve got.”

“Hmm,” Hiccup grimaced back. “Where’s the…”

You nudged the sack leaning closest to you with your foot, grains shifting stiffly as your boot made contact with the rough sack. You were careful not to jostle it too hard- though it was mostly limp, leaning against the floor and flat wooden table-wall, you’d cut it open by the top, and you knew one hard knock would be enough to cause whatever was left inside to spill across the floor. 

“The water’s-...” You looked off to the side, craning your neck where, to your left, an array of spoons and bowls lay neatly mounted on one wall, a small, polite bucket of boiled water, nearly empty, sitting below it all, with what you knew was a wooden bowl floating inside, right where you’d left it. “I’ll get the water.”

You let out a short puff of air before walking around Hiccup and going for a bucket. 

You paid no mind to him as you’d bent down and peered into it, where your shallow bowl had flipped upside down somehow and the wood had gone from a dry dark to an even darker, water-soaked, nearly jet-black.

Behind you, Hiccup grunted. 

You heard a small thump and heard what sounded like fabric shifting- he was kneading the dough, then, you assumed- possibly. He was most probably unclean, yet your dough was trash dough anyways, so perhaps it was for the best.

You  grabbed ahold of your bowl with a sigh, flipping it over with your fingers and scooping up a decent measure of water, holding it carefully yet casually in one hand as you stood up and turned back towards Hiccup who had, while you were not paying attention, grabbed ahold of your sack of flour.

Somehow he’d turned it upside down, the flap holding the sack closed slowly unfolding itself, the beginnings of a muffle rushing building, not unlike the sound sand made as it poured out from between your fingers. 

“Wait, I-” You startled, stepping forwards and dropping the bowl, which fell to the ground with a clatter and a splash. 

Before you could reach out in full, Hiccup’s shaking yet tight grip on the sack meant that with all the force of a Nightmare, a pile of flour exploded over both the floor and your dough piece, resting miserably and floppily over the counter.

Your eyes fluttered open with astonishment, the shifting of the skin over your face feeling thicker as you opened your mouth, a heavy cover of flour laying across it. 

You blinked down hurriedly, tugging at your tunic and staring at the heavy layer of nearly edible silt along your front. As it thickened under water- well, it would be the worst trouble to clean.

Besides you, Hiccup coughed, eyes clenched shut, the flour’s sack mostly empty and lying abandoned against new wooden floors- you hope they’d already been sealed. They should have been, but there were a few lazy folk and you knew you’d be feeling standoffish if, well, they hadn’t been. 

You let your arms fall limp as you glared at the large pile over the countertop, a building ticking feeling growing in your throat.

Once he settled, you glanced at Hiccup, a sour look on your face, then you glanced away, stubbornly flicking some flour over towards him with two fingers.

“This is your fault,” You said stubbornly, denying your own clumsy lack of foresight and tossing Hiccup into the spotlight. 

“What- hey,” Hiccup began before you yourself began to cough.

You puffed, and right after a cloud of white and beige grain bloomed into the air and sank with the slowest abandon onto the already thickly covered countertop.

Maybe it was the poor timing, or the comical, nearly hysterical silence which followed, or maybe it was perhaps a sudden reaction and refusal to accept what had happened and to perhaps smother any awkward tension with laughter, but you’d had to clenched your lips shut then, stifling a sudden onslaught of laugher, something choking and joyful-ugly in your throat- sharp as if you’d just seen one of the Twins tipped by a Yak instead of vice versa or you’d heard a Terror spill a bucket of fish over someone else’s yet, and yet this felt much lighter.

In the silence you’d left behind, it was Hiccup who laughed, an awkward, unsure thing, flour splattered across his face like dry dirt. 

You had to snort then, shoulders jerking, a hand coming up to your nose to wipe away the grainy powder there and staying there as the joy wracking your frame grew to be too much, causing you to nearly keel over.

You stumbled forward, almost tripping over onto Hiccup, your bent head knocking into his shoulder, his hands coming to grip your sides as he struggled to stay standing.

“Sor-sorry,” You said, your hands coming to grasp at his upper arms, your fingers curling around them as you lifted your head and smiled at him.

“I-I,” Hiccup started.

You weren’t sure you’d even had a moment with anyone that was so simple and sweet. Not even with Hiccup, when you were younger, snider and sillier.

He didn’t stop like you assumed he would, leaning closer and closer- your eyes were wide, so much so they felt almost watery as he leaned in, noses nearly knocking, blessing you with a stiff press, thin lips meeting yours with simple heat and hard intention.

Oh Hel.

You made a small noise in the back of your throat as he pulled back, your face blank but still reeling from the last press of lips, your hands flat against his arms instead of curled around them.

You were there and not, feeling strongly the heat of Hiccup’s palm nearing your back yet practically soaking in the wooden-ness of your limbs. 

“I-I,” You tried, glancing to the side, then back at Hiccup, scrambling for even a thought, something to say- instead you just leaned closer, his breath curling at your lips, shaking.

“Do you…?” Hiccup tried, his head tilting slightly more to the side as he too leaned again, his eyes falling slightly lidded, mouth hanging slightly open and his lungs beat with heavy breath and heart.

He pulled you close again, nearly flush. 

You pressed back into it with nearly a confused whine, though you were no less invested, tugging him closer to you, the both of you turning smoothly for the single instant you’d both been pressed together before you pulled apart again.

“What…?” Your fingers clutched at the fabric of his sleeves as your head fell to his shoulder, resting in the place where the edge of one leather pauldron dug into your forehead.

You matched his shifting, as his chin rested just barely over your shoulder-ensconced head, the both of you moving in some tight, quiet, easing dance, all stiff limbs and smooth, small movements.

 It hadn’t been much, but it had been enough to leave you panting, your face hot enough and your eyes nearly burning as you struggled to come back to yourself.

[jjsm2002]

Miguel O’Hara x Reader

An anomaly was spotted on Earth-2045 who had the ability to multiply, blend in with it’s surrounding and unfortunates is able to jump fro universe to universe. You and the other spidermen/spider women were tasked to capture the said anomaly.

Due to the distance you and the others would have from each other to capture the anomaly, each of you were mic’ed, meaning that any little whisper or murmur, all of you could heard it.

“Any sight of the Anomaly?” Miguel asked into his mic.

“None so far, I thought it would be easier to spot them” Jessica said with annoyance in her voice

“(Name)? Anything from your part of the city?” Miguel asked, pinching the bridge of his nose

“Nope, clear on my end” you said, with so much softness in your voice that it made Miguel’s shoulders relax and his heart skip a beat. Gwen, who scoped out the city with you replies with hesitancy in her voice, “Maybe it would be best if we patrol the city for a bit, maybe it would show up?”

Miguel huffs, “We don’t have time for that, for all we know it could’ve moved to another universe”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine bossman.” Hobbie says while leaning against a brick wall, scoping his area. Miguel’s eye twitches at the nickname

Lyla pops up and giddily says “oh it’s here alright, my sensors indicate that it hasn’t jumped dimensions yet”, causing Miguel to sigh and roll his eyes, giving into the idea of patrolling the city.

Peter B chimes in beside him “if it weren’t for the anomaly, it would’ve been nice just swinging around, it feels great, just like the old times.”

As you swing from building to building you started to hum distractedly, this is something you usually do while you patrol. Jessica and Gwen are the ones who usually hear it since you partner up with either of them during missions.

Your soft hums gets picked up by the mic causing the gang to hear it. Jessica glances at Miguel with a look of recognition in here face and mouths “do you hear her?”. Miguel’s face softens lip quirking up a bit but turns his face away so that Jessica doesn’t see it. His heart melts as you start humming a bit louder

“A voice of an angel I’d say” Hobbie comments, a smirk on his face

“There’s always music coming out of her and it’s always so relaxing to hear it” Gwen says to her mic with adoration in her voice

Somehow through their commentary, you’re just in your own little world, softly humming with much tenderness in you voice

Miguel closes his eyes trying to relish your sweet hums and tunes, not realizing Peter B was staring at him with shock in his eyes, he’s never seen Miguel this relaxed before. He looks over at Jess, pointing at him and mouthing “are you seeing this?” Jessica chuckles and shakes her head. Her Chuckles causing Miguel to snap his eyes open, glaring at his two comrades but it doesn’t hold a lot of heat in it.

“You two say anything and I’ll fire you.”

Gwen and Hobbie in the background starts cackling as they pick up on what happened.