#not the middle of the road the actual sidewalk
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calimanc · 4 months ago
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I came out of the festival toilets and loads of people were looking through the fence and apparently there were deer because we were next to a deer park and I was like who cares about those fuckers, the last deer I saw almost took out my rental car and had me doing a soccer mom arm save on my cousin on the way back from the liquor store last month at the family reunion and my husband had to remind me that they are NOT pests in this country and that people actually think they're very majestic.
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theworstcreature · 1 year ago
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I wish all city/town designers who purposefully make every single fucking road without any sidewalks whatsoever a massive go die in a hole
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twilightkitkat · 28 days ago
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Wade would start holding hands with Logan as a joke, but Logan would refuse to let go.
Wade just thought it would be a funny gag and that Logan would shake him off, like he did in the void. After all, there's no way Logan would actually be willing to hold his hand in public. He tolerates Wade's antics, but that's it.
But... Logan lets him? Holds his hand tighter, even, gripping it firmly. Wade looks over, confused, only to see a small content smile on Logan's face. It makes his heart skip a beat.
When they get to a fence that cuts through the road, Wade is sure that he'll have to let go. He silently mourns the warmth of Logan's hand in his. But Logan doesn't let go. He just raises his arm above the fence and they keep holding hands over it.
When they get to a pole in the middle of the sidewalk, Logan pulls Wade in closer and they just barely manage to squeeze past it. Hand-holding still intact.
Even when they get to the grocery store, Logan has one hand on the shopping cart and one hand in Wade's. He lets go of the shopping cart to grab ingredients, and Wade has to help him with his free hand.
It's awkward to contort around each other when bagging their food and checking out, but they manage. They carry all of the bags in their free hand, loading them onto their free arms. Wade has never been more glad for his strength.
They keep holding hands all the way to the apartment, and they only let go once they're inside to put the groceries away. And then Logan's pulling him onto the couch beside him and putting an arm around his shoulder and Wade is the one who has to fight a giddy smile, this time.
(Without fail, they hold hands every time they go out together after this. Logan even initiates it, most of the time, as if something would be fundamentally wrong with the world if he couldn't cling on to Wade the second they stepped outside.
Logan had been about to reach out for Wade's hand right before Wade grabbed his. When Logan felt Wade's palm slot against his, it was like coming home all over again.)
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breathinlove · 5 months ago
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sticky fingers ellie williams
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read this
synopsis: you and your best friend got popsicles on a hot day, but ellie finishes hers first.
cw: swearing, dialogue heavy at first, homoerotic friendship i fear, hinted themes, dirty minded hoes who act oblivious, a whole lotta mouth and tongue but no nothang but slighhhhhttttlyyy nsfw.
a/n: idk what this is it just came to me as i had a popsicle in the morning lmao... i js missed writing.
you're walking home with one of best friends, ellie, after a day at the park. it was a boring and oppressively hot day. you had bought yourselves ice lollies to help survive the sultry weather.
"is it good?" ellie speaks, pointing to your yellow popsicle.
"yeah, ellie, it's good." you say, matter-of-factly.
"i love pineapple." she looks away from you as you come closer to the crossing, both you looking to the sides of the road in sync.
“i know, me too." you reply shortly, not giving her the time of day, rapidly crossing the street. ellie stays silent, but not for too long.
"well..." she mutters when she catches your trail.
"yes?" you know what she wants but you still play dumb. you're not gonna give it to her.
“just a taste—" she starts whining, and you cut her off.
“nope." that's all you say in response.
you turn the stick horizontally as you get to the middle of the ice lolly, you suck on it and she's snorts heavily. she seems to drag her feet along the sidewalk.
“please, it's so hot out here.” ellie insists on the subject.
"it’s not my fault you fucking gobbled yours." you giggle, flicking her forehead.
she lets out a cartoon-like ‘ouch’ and she pushes your arm.
"bruh, it was small." ellie complains before wiping sweat off her nape, where strands of hair stuck onto.
“doooon't caaaare.” you smirk.
you bite the ice off the stick and she looks like she's mourning its loss. ellie loves pineapple artificial flavoring, despite choosing not to eat too much actual pineapple because when you two ate a bunch of pineapple slices together, you ended up with prickled tongues and mouth ulcers. it wasn't fun.
you can read her expression well enough to let out a chuckle, almost choking on the juice that pools inside your mouth. she clicks her tongue at the sound of slurping coming from you, she focuses on the noise of lawn mowers on your neighborhood instead, but they're just as annoying.
"ellie." you mutter with a heavy breath, she can hear what remains on your tongue moving. she hums in response.
you know ellie's annoyed. you were friends, but you were afraid that you had spoiled her. whenever you denied her anything, she'd catch an attitude. and you liked teasing her. you thought she looked cute when she'd look away from you with a serious face over something so small as a popsicle.
“lukami.” you say, he contorts her face in confusion, and you slurp at the juices to clear your words.
“look at me." you repeat, now coherently, grabbing her cheeks.
“yeah? what do you want?" she looks at you, and you take a disgustingly loud and final slurp.
ellie knows the pineapple stick is gone now, and she didn't even get to taste it. she pictured herself tasting it off your lips, or even your tongue. she wondered if she'd able to feel the refreshment if she sucked on your tongue after all the sucking you did on that popsicle.
“guess what?” you smile, she takes a little too long to answer and you wonder what goes through her mind.
but well, she's nasty, isn't she? she wanted it, no matter if it meant licking around one of her best friend's mouth. she's upset, but she knows it's silly.
“what?” she shrugs.
"i have popsicles at home.” you say excitedly and you look giddy, your sugary fingers still on her face.
“whatever," she looked away, forcing away from your hold. "get those sticky fingers away from me."
"that's a great album, by the way." you ignore her demand, chuckling.
you mess with her cheeks, smearing her with the syrup on your hand. you left a spot on her lips, she licked it. finally, she knows what it tasted like and she yearns for more.
“you're so messy, ya know?" she smiles wide.
you look at your hand as she grabs and holds it where it was, against her lips. you stop on your tracks completely, feeling her tongue stick out of her lips and coming in contact with the pad of your fingers, it tickles. you giggle.
she hums at the sweetness of it and looks up at you from your fingers, what a kid!
"ellie, please, what's wrong with you?" you laugh, and she does too. sugar puts her in a good mood.
“should've just let me taste it.” she speaks.
you would've thought she was done but ellie takes your index finger inside her mouth for shits and giggles, her warm as the day tongue massaging your finger as she sucks on it.
“you're so stupid.” you say, using minimal to no strength to push her face with the hand she entrapped. she smiles around your finger.
you feel the desire to slide your finger further into her mouth to wipe that shit-eating grin of her face. you imagined how ellie would look when she gagged on it, the shock in her eyes would be amusing, you assume. these thoughts run around your mind.
you think she might have an oral fixation by the looks of it,you look around, making sure no one was watching this seemingly obscenity.
"god, ellie.." you sigh in defeat when she flutters her eyes shut. you watch, mind running around her soft features and braking on her pursed lips, tainted red from her late watermelon popsicle.
then she releases your finger, after god knows how long (now that your fingerprint is practically part of her tongue’s muscle memory). you snap back to reality, freshly cut grass smell hitting your nose and unbearable sun hitting your skin.
ellie looks proud of herself.
"it really was good. what flavors you got at home?" she asks and starts walking again. you clean your now spit dirty fingers on your shirt and walk with her, enumerating the flavors of popsicles your dad had bought and stacked in the freezer.
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mediumgayitalian · 9 months ago
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prev
———
By all accounts, Will knows what he’s doing.
He still drives like a godsdamn maniac.
“Do you want us to die?” Nico hollers, cheeks aching from the force of his grin, belly flipping at the peal of Will’s laughter.
The bike is exhilarating, as Will weaves it around cars at unbelievable speeds, working with the bike like it’s a part of him, like it’s not a separate thing he has to move. He steers it with a natural ease Nico’s only really seen in some of the best pegasus riders in camp — he knows the machine intimately enough to anticipate how it moves, how it reacts. It really is an extension of his body.
He left any panic about gripping onto Will somewhere in Long Island — to let go would be suicide. He has to hold on to stay onto the bike, to know to lean when Will leans, to tense when he tenses. Besides that, he’s having fun. He’s not the one driving, so he’s free to rest his helmet on Will’s back and watch as the world whips by — dizzying, really, as the speed of the bike making the green-budding trees melt into the bright blue skies, mix with the tar black asphalt, glow under the sparkling sun. The whole world looks like sidewalk chalk after it rains, a swirling mass of colour and streaks as artistic or more than what it was before it was washed away. The only indication that they’re actually going anywhere rather than standing straight in the middle of a kaleidoscope is the spots of roadside green that pop up every now and again, or a heavy lean to the side and Will switches lanes.
As they pull out of New York, Will starts to slow down. The dizzying mass of colours calms until everything’s at a slow spin, as Will mellows out to a speed that can be registered on a mortal odometer. With less wind whipping all over, Nico can actually hear him.
“Better than a flying chariot?”
Nico grins. “Definitely.”
“Another great thing about this is that it has a CD player. Two-nothing for the sad hunk of wood.”
By great thing Will of course means the same four songs I’ve been obsessed with for a month playing over and over and over until you are ready to launch yourself off the bike and join the dead raccoon at the side of the road, but that still doesn’t manage to ruin it. Something about driving top speeds in the early spring air makes it hard to be annoyed about annoying.
(Or maybe it’s the way Nico can feel Will’s muscles shift every time he moves, or how he winks every time he catches Nico’s eye in the mirrors, or the lowkey kind of sinful the way he straddles the seat. But Nico is quite happy sharing a name with a river in Egypt, so he ignores these fun facts and continues to delude himself, an art in which he is become quite wondrously skilled.)
Somewhere between Jersey and Delaware, the traffic picks up again, so Will shouts for him to hold on and cranks up the speed. Nico clenches tightly around his waist, squeezing his eyes shut, this time, and listens to the roar of air as they shove through it fast enough to rival sound. When they’re drifting, again, Nico can feel an incline, and looks up just in time to watch Will exit off the highway.
“Are we here already?” he shouts, incredulous. He knows his ADHD makes him bad with time, but jeez — it can’t have been more than an hour, an hour and a half.
“Not yet,” Will says, barely having to raise his voice as they come to a stop, heel of his boot clicking on the pavement. He checks both ways and then, once nothing comes around the bend, pushes off and guides them down a winding back road, tipping around curves and speeding down hills. Nico’s stomach bottoms out every drop, and he can’t clamp down the giggle that pushes out his throat, as ridiculous as it is. Luckily, Will’s giggling, too.
In a few minutes, they pull up to an old, rusted gas station, with signs so old they’re hand-painted. Will kills the engine and flicks out the kickstand, pulling off his helmet and shaking out his hair. It’s such a tangled mess that Nico can’t help but reach out and tug on a lopsided curl.
“I didn’t think this thing needed gas.”
“It doesn’t!” He pats a dark piece of glass in between the handlebars. “It’s solar-powered. But I figured you could use a minute to stretch your legs, and frankly, if I don’t eat something soon I genuinely might cook you.”
“You forgot to eat today, didn’t you.”
“…No.”
As soon as he speaks, his eyes start to water. His throat swells. He holds his breath for a noble four seconds, and then starts wheezing.
Nico sighs heavily. “Dumbass.”
Hauling him upright by the collar, Nico drags him towards the little corner store. This, at least, is familiar. Will gets caught up in his work easily, and forgets to do things like eat or move or, on one particularly amusing occasion, breathe. (Just tipped right over, one day, onto the floor, mid-poultice. There is a chip on the side of the stone mortar to this day. Nico, Will’s other friends, and his siblings take shifts bringing it up to dunk on him properly. Last he checked, Lou Ellen commissioned Jake Mason to make a plaque to hang on the infirmary wall, memorializing the incident forever.)
“C’mon, stupid. Let’s get you a sandwich. And Benadryl.”
“I’m honestly fine,” Will wheezes, cheeks swelling slightly.
“Stop talking,” Nico orders. “You’re making it worse.”
Wisely, Will clamps up. That, or his throat is starting to close. Either is likely.
His stubborn determination to continue lying despite being literally allergic to it would be impressive, if it wasn’t so irritating.
A little bell rings by the door when Nico pushes it open, making the person sitting behind the counter look up.
“Ah,” they say sagely, folding up their newspaper. “Demigods.”
Immediately, Nico’s on alert. Before he can draw his sword, though, Will lifts a hive-spotted hand in a wave.
“Hey, Berchio,” he croaks.
The person at the counter — Berchio — smiles ruefully.
“Benadryl?”
Nico nods hesitantly, still a little wary at the stranger, but Will is starting to keen over, now, and Nico didn’t think to bring an Epi-Pen (since the allergy is totally avoidable, William, you are your own worst enemy), so he’s running out of options. “Please.”
Chuckling to themself, Berchio ruffles around a shelf by the checkout counter, locating the familiar bottle after a minute — Will gets himself into these situations a lot, he has a serious twizzler problem and should consider getting his own stash instead of lifting it from the Hermes cabin and then lying about where it went — and rolling towards them. The spokes of their wheelchair have little skull charms on them that make a pleasant tinkling noise as they spin, making Nico trust them instantly. He should get Chiron wheel beads. That’s sick as hell.
“Here, kid. Drink water, too, you’re going to dry yourself out.”
Will garbles out a thank you, choking down the medicine. As all meds do with Apollo’s children, lucky bastards that they are, it works quickly, and in minutes he’s breathing right again.
“Gods, I love oxygen.”
“You are a human disaster,” Nico informs him. “Like, hugely.”
Will takes a sip of his water, pondering that. “Is that more embarrassing for you, or for me?”
“Why the hell would it be embarrassing for me?”
“Well, since you like me so much.” Nico chokes. “I might be a disaster, but at least I don’t have a crush on one.”
“All this wheezing,” Berchio sighs. “This must be Nico?”
“The one and only,” Will says cheerfully. He reaches out and touches a warm hand to Nico’s throat, immediately clearing his airways. Now no longer struggling for breath, Nico darts out and punches him, hard, on the arm.
“Ow! Meanie!”
“You are such a derp-faced dweeb,” Nico hisses, fully aware he’s red in the face. “Why are you — why are you this way.”
“I’m gonna tell Chiron you were bullying me!”
“Tell him! I’ll tell him you were the one to sprinkle instant mashed potatoes all over the grass before it rained, not Cecil!”
Will snaps his mouth shut. “I told you that in confidence.”
Nico smiles smugly. “Well, that’s on you. My loyalties are about as secure as my parent’s relationship.”
“If you two are finished flirting,” interrupts an amused voice, making both of them jump. Berchio watches them with their arms crossed, eyebrow raised in a similar chiding way to Chiron last time he caught Nico attempting to sneak an entire tray of brownies from the kitchen (mark his words — as soon as he can shadow travel again, no other camper will be seeing a brownie as long as they shall live). They shake their head, tutting exaggeratedly. “My, my, Will, I’m beginning to understand why you mentioned him every time you opened your mouth. I figured you liked him, but this is ridiculous.”
For once, Will is the one to flush crimson. He stutters something entirely incomprehensible, gesturing vaguely towards Berchio, and then frantically towards Nico, and finally squawks something about trust and the breaching of it. He goes red to the very roots of his hair, clamping his own mouth shut mid-sentence and scowling something awful.
Suddenly, Nico gets it. This is why no one ever leaves him alone. Oh, he is loathe to give the assholes he’s friends with credit, but…
When does he ever get to see Will — confident, easy Will — go scarlet?
“So you like me,” he says, shit eating grin stretching across his face. “Oh ho ho ho.”
“Oh, shut up,” Will snaps, without any heat. “Last time we played volleyball you got a concussion ‘cause you couldn’t stop staring at my chest and took a ball to the face.”
“That — it was — that hit was malicious,” he sputters. “And how is it my fault you’re always ditching your shirt at the first available opportunity like some kind of whore? I couldn’t not look!”
“Avert your eyes, then, scoundrel!”
“I — don’t call me a scoundrel! You’re a scoundrel!”
“You’re both late, is what you are,” Berchio interrupts again. “Will, I assume you’re running an errand?”
Still a little flushed, Will nods. “Yes. Thanks, Berchio. We’re picking up parts in Roanoke, I just stopped for some food.”
“He forgot to eat this morning,” Nico pipes up. He figures that Berchio seems comfortable enough with Will that they can act as a disappointed authority figure, which will make Mr. Daddy Issues Solace crumple like a castle built on a pillar of sand — he needs the humbling. (Also, Nico will get him on a healthier track or die trying. It’s not fair that he gets to be a big hypocrite about good diet and eating and sleeping habits and then turn around and act a fool. Someone needs to watch out for the idiot, or he’s going to get himself killed, and then Nico is going to have to spend the rest of his life in the Underworld, yelling at him.)
“William.”
Nico’s theory is proven correct. Berchio stares at Will with the perfect mix of disappointment and concern, immediately triggering the scramble-to-please expression on Will’s face. He practically stumbles over himself trying to follow after him and get fed.
“Are you happy with a sandwich, Nico? I know Will’ll eat anything that even remotely looks like food, but most of us have standards,” they tease.
Nico snorts at Will’s offended pout. “Yeah, a sandwich is more than fine. Thanks, Berchio.”
After handing them both a sandwich they pull from one of the many fridges in the little convenience store, they guide them outside, parking their wheelchair next to the curb they sit on and joining them in a little picnic.
“So how do you know each other?” Nico asks, gesturing between the two of them.
Will answers first, because Berchio, who is a polite person with manners, takes the time to swallow their food.
“I stop here all the time,” he says, garbled, making both Nico and Berchio wince. Nico takes the initiative to kick him.
“Stop being disgusting and explain yourself without showing off the contents of your mouth,” Nico threatens, “or I’m going to stab you again.”
Will swallows, sticks out his tongue, and continues.
“First time I used the bike, I got it into my head that I should go visit my mom. Would’ve been fine, except I was thirteen and hadn’t been outside of camp in six years and got chased by a pack of empousai the second I left the city, basically.”
“I was collecting herbs and sensed him coming,” Berchio explains. “He crossed the borders I have set up; I hid him here. Now he stops by whenever he’s travelling to chat.” Berchio smiles warmly. “I appreciate the company.”
Will grins back. “Me too! Plus, I very much appreciate the herb exchange. Speaking of which, I have your goldenrod.”
He digs into his jeans pocket, pulling out a bundle. He hands it over to Berchio, who accepts it gratefully, handing over their own bundle to Will.
“And your witch hazel.”
“Berchio’s an Ipotane,” Will explains, catching sight of Nico’s furrowed brow. “They’ve been doing this healing stuff for centuries. They’re real good with salves.”
Nico shakes his head fondly. “Even when you’re being cool, you’re a nerd.” He gestures to the bike. “Taking your secret motorcycle to visit your secret mentor to learn more about healing. Gods, it’s like Apollo made you in a lab.”
“You take that back! I contain multitudes!”
“And now you’re quoting famous poems, dear gods, try to prove my point better, why don’t you —”
“Blah blah blah!”
Nico grins at him, rolling his eyes, and Will is just as playfully dramatic with his bit lip and hidden smile and the hair he tucks behind his ear like he does when he wants to touch somebody but isn’t sure if it’s invited. Nico answers the question for him, reaching out and flicking his knuckles as an excuse to touch his hands. Will takes it, beaming.
“Thank you for the food, Berchio,” Will says when they finish, leaning down to hug them. “We gotta get going, but I’ll be back in a couple weeks. I had a dream about an outbreak, so no doubt the infirmary will need restocked soon.”
“Bring your boyfriend next time,” Berchio suggests, grinning when Nico goes red at the term. “Watching the two of you was not unlike one of Sterne’s famous productions.”
“I take offence to that,” Will says haughtily.
“Good. You needed humbling.”
“Nobody appreciates me around here!”
Nico bites back the I do that threatens to escape his throat. Gods, he’s so embarrassing. Whoever taught him how to speak should have to pay for their crimes.
They head back to the bike, waving goodbye to the Ipotane and speeding off. The drive the rest of the way down south is much calmer, bellies full and energy somewhat spent, and it helps that there’s no traffic. Will cruises, keeping time with the sun that’s inching across the sky, ignoring Nico’s suggestion to attempt to race his dad. They arrive in Roanoke in good time, following Nyssa’s scrawled directions to the parts shop.
The shop is old, visibly, paint peeling and smelling strongly of car grease. As Nysa predicted, the person they speak to — a mechanic, by the look of her jumpsuit — doesn’t ask so much as a single question at the two teenagers rolling up to her doorstep, heading to the greasy shelves of car parts and grabbing what they need with a shrug.
“Well,” says Will slowly as she piles them on the counter, “that’s…more than I anticipated.”
Nico looks at the stack of twisted metal. He looks at the bike. Finally, he looks at his dumbass friend.
“Solace.”
Will scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah?”
“Solace, tell me you have space to put this stuff.”
“Well, we can try the seat compartment?”
Nico buries his head in his hands. “Solace.”
“What!”
“You know what, lughead! We cannot do the one thing we came here to do! Gods!”
“I usually go on supply runs for the infirmary, okay!” Will cries. “That stuff is way less bulky! I forgot to compensate!”
Nico groans. At this point, they’re going to have to bus back, or something equally as stupid. And what are they gonna do with the bike? Gods, if Nico was here by himself and also maybe possibly with Reyna, who could share her strength, he’d just —
He stills.
“Oh, no,” Will says, pointing a stern finger, “oh, no, di Angelo, I know that look, you have been expressly banned —”
“Relax,” Nico grumbles. “Don’t you trust me?”
“With everything,” Will says automatically, then flushes for the second time that day. “But that is not the point —”
Deciding he will return to that later — and he most certainly will — Nico darts forward. Before Will can stop him, he puts both hands on the pile of parts, lunges towards the nearest shadow, and shoved them in, withdrawing as quickly as he can manage.
“Nico!”
He waits.
“Oh, you fuckin’ — you goddamn son of a mother!”
He checks his hands — still solid.
“I am going to smash you flat an’ feed you through a goddamn juicer! You fuckin’ heart-stopper!”
He grins. “I told you I could do some Underworld magic.”
“Underworld deez fuckin’ nuts!” Will stomps forward, grabbing Nico’s hands to do his own inspection. “What part of doctor’s orders are you missin’, huh? You think I wanna watch you fade again? You think I wanna —” His voice cracks, hands tightening around Nico’s wrists. Nico softens immediately, smug look melting into something gentler.
“Will.”
“You coulda died, Nico, you coulda faded to — to nothin’.”
“Will.” He flips his hands so his palms meet Will’s, and squeezes, smiling gently. “Feel my vitals, dork. Am I fading?”
Will exhales. “No.”
“Am I close?”
“…No.”
He squeezes again. “I’m fine, Will.”
“You scared me.” The anger in his voice has faded into something soft — something afraid. Suddenly the hands on his wrists feel more clingy than anything, and a twinge of guilt goes off in Nico’s stomach.
“I’m sorry.” He squeezes Will’s hands one last time, and when that doesn’t do much, lets go to wrap around his cheeks, instead, forcing him to meet his eyes. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“I don’t mean to restrict you,” Will says softly. “It’s just — I worry, is all.”
Nico taps their foreheads together, smile pulling at his face. This, he can — this he can deal with. This version of Will, soft and nervous and caring, makes it a lot easier to slide his fingers into the mess of Will’s curls, to run his thumbs over his cheekbones and feel him shiver.
“Would that have anything to do with the alleged crush you have on me?”
Will grins. “It might.” One of his hands comes up to rest on top of Nico’s, brushing over his knuckles. “All your moonin’ after me had me looking twice, I guess.”
“You’re such a dick,” Nico scoffs, and yanks him down to meet him in the middle, laughing, swallowing his smile and relishing in the warm press of their bodies. It’s — gods, it’s everything, it’s a thousand times better than he imagined, and at the same time everything he expected. Will smells like wind and sunshine and his lavender shampoo, and his hands are roughened from all the antiseptic he has to use, and his lips are surprisingly chapped, but the press of his cheeks is soft, and the feel of him is overwhelming. It feels, as cliche as it is, like the final burst of a firework after watching the smokey trail of the rocket with bated breath, watching it crest the night sky before exploding, finally, amongst the stars, it’s like —
A cleared throat startled them apart.
“Anytime y’all feel like paying for those parts, it would be great.”
Will grins sheepishly. “Sorry,” he says, pulling out the money Chiron gave him. His grin turns sly, and Nico’s knees turn to jelly. “My boyfriend’s just super distracting.”
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starcrossed-lov3rz · 4 months ago
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The Vow Spoken Through Time - Part 11
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Daemon x Rhaenyra x Wife!Reader
Series: Series Masterlist
Warnings: MDNI, yelling, plot
Tags: marriage, poly relationship, Daemon being hopelessly in love with his wives, Queen!Rhaenyra
Words: 1.2K
Description: Y/N is having a rough morning. She's fired. She's hungover. She's in a stranger's bed. She's waking up in a new world? She's married?!
Rhaenyra and Daemon's day started normal. Waking up next to their darling wife before tending to their duties. The difference? Their wife is speaking in riddles and has no memories of them.
Check out more works in my Masterlist!
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The tree behind you is identical to the heart tree in the keep. But as you look out, you and Daemon are clearly standing in the middle of a city park. The street and cars are visible from your position. 
“We’re in my world now.”
You walk around, trying to get your bearings. 
“Where are you going? We need to get back!” Daemon caught up to you. 
“No, Daemon, I spent months letting you and Rhaenyra try to convince me that my life wasn’t real.” You continue walking until you hit a road. Looking at the name, you sigh in relief. That witch outdid herself. Not only are you back in your world, you’re in the same city and just a few blocks from your apartment. 
“What do you want me to say, y/n? That I’m sorry?”
You scoffed, “actually that would be a lovely start.” Speedwalking down the sidewalk, you try not to think about all the weird stares you’re both getting. 
“Y/n,” Daemon grabs your arm to stop you. 
“Hey man, leave her alone!” A passerby stops, grabbing Daemon’s arm in an attempt to pull him away.
“If you wish to keep that hand, you will remove it at once,” Daemon growls.
“It’s okay! No one is going to hurt anyone!” you jump in. “Thank you for stopping, but I promise everything is fine. My husband is just in the dog house at the moment.” The stranger’s brows furrow, but he releases Daemon’s arm. He’s openly staring at Dark Sister on Daemon’s hip. “Oh Jesus H. Christ,” you sigh, rubbing your forehead. “We are….uh…cosplayers. Yeah, my husband and I cosplay, and this was for a photo shoot.”
“No we-”
“Yep, we are just big fans of that medieval times shit!” 
The stranger nods slowly, clearly regretting his choice to stop. “Well, um, have fun with that? Sorry, I just saw this dude manhandling-”
“No worries,” you say, pulling Daemon to walk away with you. “Thanks for looking out for me.”
Daemon is seething as you walk away, his hand drifting down towards Dark Sister’s hilt. “Why did you interfere? I had that handled!”
You don’t even try to bite back the laugh. “Really? You had it handled? What were you going to do, cut off his hand?”
“Yes!”
“Welcome to 2024,” you snort. “Even if you did, someone would have called the cops on the lunatic running around with a sword.”
“I am the Prince Consort-”
“I promise you no one here cares,” you groan. “We don’t really do all that here.”
You drag Daemon into your apartment building’s entry, running into one of your downstairs neighbors. “Hey Dani!” you say, “Going for a beach day?”
“You know it girl,” she grins, hoisting her tote bag up. “Gotta get some use out of the bikini and find myself a sugar daddy.”
“Where are we, and why is that woman in her small clothes?” Daemon asks, not bothering to lower his voice. 
Dani glares, pulling her coverup closed. You’re shocked, but you elbow Daemon. “I am so sorry for him,” you stumble over yourself. “He’s….he’s amish. They don’t have bikinis….or apartments?”
She nods and leaves, clearly upset. 
“Daemon what the fuck? You can’t just say tha-”
He doesn’t even have the decency to look apologetic, merely looking down at you with a grin. “Do you have a bikini as well?”
You groan, hitting the button for the elevator. “You’re something else, you know that? I have half a mind to leave you alone so I can sulk in peace.” You hop on the elevator, and Daemon follows warily. He looks very unsure of the device. “You’re lucky I love you,” you sigh.
“What’s stopping you from abandoning me in this world?” Daemon asks. “You were clearly ready to cut all ties to us.”
“It’s complicated,” you say. “I was upset and needed space. But I could never just abandon you here, you wouldn’t last a day and I wouldn’t forgive myself.”
“Does this mean you’re coming home?” 
You step off the elevator, ignoring his question in favor of rummaging under your front door’s welcome mat for a spare key. 
“My love, I’m sorry for not believing you,” Daemon begins. “Nyra is going to be worried sick, please just come back with me.”
“Daemon, I love you but I need time.” You sigh, looking around your apartment for your phone. It was still plugged in next to your bed. Picking it up, you saw the date. “That’s weird,” you murmur, “no time has passed.”
“What do you mean?”
“Today is the same day I woke up as her.”
“You’ve been with us for months though,” Daemon whispered. 
“I guess time works differently when you’re traveling worlds.” You shuck off your dress and rummage through your drawers to find a bra. “I never thought I’d say it, but damn I miss bras.” You slip into a tshirt and jeans before trying to find something for Daemon to wear. 
“My love, are you sure that is appropriate to be outside in?”
You groan, finding a pair of your ex’s jeans and a baggy shirt. “These should fit, just put them on and try to keep your opinions to yourself.”
“But y/-”
“No buts, do you want food or not?”
Daemon nodded, changing in silence as his eyes flickered around the room. “What is this?” he asked, gesturing towards your phone.
“It’s a cellphone. Think of it like a raven, I guess,” you say. “I can use it to write or talk to anyone in the world right now.”
“That’s impossible,” Daemon snorted. “Not even the fastest raven cou-”
You roll your eyes, dialing up your favorite pizza joint and putting them on speakerphone. “Hey, can I order pickup? A  large pepperoni pizza and garlic knots for y/n.”
“20 minutes.”
Daemon stood, mouth agape as he heard the voice come through the other side of the line. You smirked, hanging up the phone. “Just wait until you find out about TV.”
“What is pizza?” 
“The greatest thing since sliced bread.”
“What’s sliced bre-”
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NOTE: It's me againnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn. Not gonna bore ya'll with the life drama, but damn life is crazy. Anyway, here's a chapter PLUS no spoilers but later today I'm dropping the first chapter to a new fic and the main love interest is *drum roll* WOLVERINE BB. As always - some ppl I can’t tag, so if you’re listed on the tag list and not receiving notifications, please check that your settings are on “allow this blog to appear in search results” or message me if I messed up the spelling! ~ Lacie <3
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sunafc · 4 months ago
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Caught in the web – 10, can't cheat
masterlist
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It was the first day of classes after the training camp, Yachi had Y/n’s suit fixed during the weekend and the hero couldn’t wait to wear it again. Y/n had skipped her manager duties to go for a swing through the city, leaving the team with yet another dumb excuse and asking Suna to get her bag because she couldn’t possibly bring it with her.
Now Y/n is sitting on top of the gym’s roof, feet dangling and fingers tapping away on her phone. As she spots Suna and the twins exiting the gym, she’s quick to place the phone in a pocket in her suit and jump down. She follows them from afar, waiting for the twins to leave so she can walk with Suna.
The three guys are talking animatedly about who knows what, Y/n can’t hear them from where she’s standing. She watches as Suna says something that irritates Atsumu right away, gaining a loud laugh from Osamu. The girl gets closer as they reach the point where their roads split. Suna would now cross the road while the twins would continue on the left.
Atsumu says something that Y/n can’t quite pick up and he gets an eye roll from Suna who waves his hand, ‘See you tomorrow,’ he says and turns around to step into the street without really checking his surroundings.
Suna hears a clacson and he hears the twins screaming his name then in less than a second, from the middle of the street, he’s back on the sidewalk. There’s an arm around his waist and the twins both have a shocked expression plastered on their faces.
‘Woah there, be more careful when you cross the street,’ Y/n removes her arm from Suna’s body, ‘You’re too pretty to walk into traffic,’ she says — Atsumu’s mouth drops.
‘Right,’ Suna says, avoiding the girl face, trying his hardest to hide his flustered state, ‘Whatever, what are you even doing here?’
‘I was just passing by–’
‘Yer Spiderman!’ Atsumu points at the hero in disbelief.
‘Close that mouth, flies will get in,’ Osamu says to his brother, ‘Don’t mind him,’ he says to the hero.
‘Shut up, Samu!’ Atsumu snaps.
Y/n chuckles at that before deciding it’s been enough time around the twins, they might get the idea that spiderman is way too similar to some girl they know pretty well. ‘It was nice meeting you two, time to go now,’ she smiles awkwardly then turns to Suna, ‘Should I accompany you home?’
‘There’s no need,’ he mutters, still embarrassed by what happened earlier.
‘I’ll still do it,’ she says, ‘None of us would want you to get run over now, would we?’ she then furns to the twins who nods eagerly at her, ‘See? Your friends agree.’
‘Alright,’ Suna sighs — and then throws a glare at his friends — ‘But no swinging,’ he says.
The girls scoffs, ‘No swinging,’ she waves at the twins then starts walking away with Suna by her side.
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notes:
– kuroo is weird
– that conversation abt the lemon is something that actually happened with my friends bc i love eating lemons (without the peel bc i'm normal) and my partner actually enjoys to only eat the peel (yea they're insane)
– suna was in fact freaking out inside bc spiderman (y/n) saved him
– and bc spiderman (y/n) flirted with him
– samu is so smart (but also so not smart at the same time)
– so this makes atsumu the only one in the trio that doesn't know of spiderman's identity
– suna was maybe a little tiny bit jealous
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slaytheusurper · 11 days ago
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⭑ Love thy neighbour ⭑
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Masterlist
A/N: First Tom Bennett fic team, now why is he so fucking hot!!!
Pairing: Tom Bennett x Neighbour!Reader
Warnings: NSFW, 18+ mdni, dirty talk, kissing/making out, dry humping, Tom hitting from behind, fingering, p in v sex, Tom being a charming bastard.
Summary: Tom needed to hide from his dad after an evening at the pub, surely his pretty neighbour would let him in?
Word count: 3k
The cold draft sweeping through your bedroom kept you awake once again, pulling your sheets up as far as you could didn’t do much either. You cursed the single paned windows for keeping you from your dreams for the third time this week, you had work at the beauty shop as a countergirl tomorrow and you couldn’t afford having no energy. 
It was all smiles and a happy, energised voice while assisting the ladies with any makeup or perfume. It fit you well but it did take a lot out of you, hence why sleeping well was quite important. Then your mind drifted off, a certain blonde haired man clouding your mind. Your neighbours, the Bennetts, were a nice family and you would sometimes even hang out with Lois. 
Lois was one of your good friends and since the two of you lived so close, them living right across the narrow street, you would often spend time with her. She would most of the time talk about Harry, a man you could tell just from Lois’ stories wasn’t quite great but you let her do her thing. 
You had met him once or twice and wasn’t quite impressed. And when you voiced your opinion to your friend she simply stated it was because you just like blonder men. She knew of your crush on her brother and found it quite adorable. 
You were somewhat embarrassed, you were pretty certain he saw you as a friend and as Lois’ friend so you kept it to yourself. However you knew him pretty well and you had been to his rescue a couple of times when the police came down the road, hiding in your house until they left. 
After your dad left to join the army when the war started it had been you and your mum, since she now was the sole income for the family, you decided to get a job as well. So your cousin gave you a recommendation at the beauty shop, hence getting you a job. Which of course you were very thankful for.  
His footsteps were the only sound that echoed through the empty dark street. Everyone was asleep by now, which was obvious as it was the middle of the night. Tom had spent the evening at the pub and even though he wasn’t drunk, he still knew he would be in trouble once he got home.
So he had a choice to make, his feet came to a halt at his front door. Blowing out some smoke from the cigarette he was puffing on before glancing to your window. Your bedroom was at the front of the house, just like his and Lois’ bedroom. 
Would you still be awake? Would you even let him in? And if you did, he would have to be careful not to wake your mum up. Even though the woman liked him, as he was very charming and handsome, your father did not. Of course he wasn’t home now but if he knew he had been in his daughters bedroom, there would be hell to pay.
He had never actually been in your bedroom, just hid in the closet downstairs when the police showed up at his door. He stood there for a minute taking a last drag of his now short cigarette, before stomping it out on the floor. His eyes shifted from his door to your window, he really didn’t want to deal with his nagging dad right now.
Your window it is. He crossed the street and noticed the tiny pebbles on the sidewalk. Picking them up he carefully threw one at your window, he couldn’t be too loud. If his dad heard him inside the house or your mum in yours, he would be in such deep shit.
The tick against the window made you sit up in bed, did you hear that right? Tick...Tick. Now there were two, you definitely heard that right. Throwing the sheets of your body, you got out of bed. Clad in your thin long nightshift, it was new, a gift from Lios for your birthday that was a couple of weeks ago.
As you made your way to your window, you wrapped your arms around yourself to fight the cold. When you peered out, a crooked smile met your eyes. You rolled them at him and he put his hands together in a begging motion as he got on his knees. You stifled a laugh at his stupid gesture and opened your window. 
“What do you think you’re doing?” You whisper yelled at him. “Well I was hopin’ you would rescue me, and here you are.” He whisper yelled back, now getting back on his feet. “Oh really, and how would I do that?” You teased, you knew he wanted to just get inside but why not pester him a bit?
“Please beautiful, can you let me in? I promise I won’t wake up your mum.” His words made your face turn about a hundred shades of red and you contemplated his question. You let out a sigh and fully opened your window. Tom smiled at you and used your, luckily strongly built, drain pipe to get up the wall and into your bedroom. 
He almost tripped and fell into your bedroom when his foot got stuck on the windowsill but you managed to catch him. The pair of you had to keep your laughs in as your mum only slept two rooms down the hall. 
When you let go of him he sneakily glanced at your thinly covered breasts before taking in your small but cosy bedroom. You blushed hard when you caught him staring but sat back down on your bed as he looked around, the moonlight illuminating the room. Then you noticed your pebbled nipples were quite visible through your gown.
You paid it no mind and slightly covered yourself with your arms. “So...your room is nice, I imagined it would be like this. All, well flowery and stuff.” You quirked a brow at him. “You imagined what my bedroom would look like?” He snorted at that and just shrugged. “Dunno just thought it would look like this, can smell your perfume. It’s nice.” 
His charming personality and butterfly inducing words made you completely forget about a very important matter, where would he sleep? “Should I uh… sleep on the ground or?” You smiled softly, “Or?” He scratched the back of his neck and looked around awkwardly. “Or...maybe you wouldn’t mind sharing with me?” 
His words made your face burn and the thought heated your belly. Sleeping next to Tom? In your bed? So incredibly close? Your bed was quite small, since it was just you, so it would be a tight fit. “I don’t know Tom, it’s a very small bed.” He nodded at your words and lowered to the ground, at least the floor was carpeted. 
You sighed, he couldn’t sleep on the ground. There was even less room on the floor and it was incredibly cold with the draft. Maybe it wasn’t so bad to share with him? “Get up.” He smiled and got off the floor waiting for you to get under the sheets so he could join you. But then he started to take off his coat, then his shoes, then his sweater. 
He looked at you hesitantly, “You mind if I take off me pants? They’re not comfortable to sleep in.” He smiled a bit sheepishly. You bit your lip softly and nodded, moving a bit more to the side so he could join you once he was left in his briefs. 
You closed your eyes to give him some privacy and a moment later you felt the mattress dip and his legs brushed yours as he climbed next to you. “You can look y’know?” You softly opened your eyes and was met with his cute smile again. “Did I wake you up?” He whispered. 
You shook your head, “No, the cold was keeping me up so you didn’t.” He nodded and made himself a bit more comfortable. “So you workin tomorrow then?” It was now you who nodded, “Yeah, too bad I won’t have slept much though.” He smiled again at your words and mumbled a sorry.
“It’s fine, cold would’ve kept me up anyway.” He seemed to think for a moment. “If you turn around, I could lie closer to you, keep us both warm.” He once again made your cheeks turn red, but agreed anyway. You turned around, now faced with your flower wallpaper as you felt him inch closer to you.
His front was now pressed to your back and it felt awfully intimate. You could smell the cigarettes he smoked on him and the delicious musk that always clung to him, a mixture of beer, cologne and sweat. Suddenly you felt the draft sweep through the room again and you shivered.
Tom didn’t fail to notice and now wrapped his arm around your waist, the sudden touch making you jolt a bit. “You okay?” He whispered, so close to your ear, his warm breath made you shudder once more. “Y-yeah, it’s warmer this way.” His warm body against yours was the best feeling you had felt in your life.
After a while he shifted again and seemed to cuddle up to you a bit. The sensation made heat pool in your belly again and you could feel yourself throbbing a bit below. The way that this man made you feel was dangerous, and something no other man could make you feel. 
Not much time had gone by when you awoke again but this time it wasn’t because of the draft. Tom shifted again, now seemingly in his sleep. Then you felt it, something hard poking your ass. You weren’t stupid, you knew he was hard. 
You had sex before, mediocre at most but you couldn’t help imagine what it would be like if Tom woke up and just fucked you right on your tiny bed. Your leg started to cramp a bit and this time you moved a bit, getting more comfortable. The movement made your ass graze his covered erection, was it a trick on your ears or did you hear a quiet moan? 
The noise made your core throb harder and so did the feeling of his cock pressing against your ass. He was probably asleep and you wanted to know if you really had this effect on him, so you grinded a bit harder against him this time, under the ruse of getting more comfortable.
“Do that again darling and you would have to do something about it.” The warm whisper against your ear made you gasp. He was awake, fuck. “Or maybe you are doing it on purpose. Maybe you want to do something about it. Hm?” His low voice made the wetness in your underwear worse and all you could do was nod.
“Say it.” You whimpered at his command. “Go on. Tell me what you want.” His hand started to caress your hip. “W-want, want you.” He chuckled. “Yeah? You want me baby? Or my cock?” His words and now tighter grip on your hip made you moan softly. “Both- P-please,  Tommy I need you.” You whined.
You could hear him groan behind you as his hand snaked down to your covered wetness. Two of his fingers carefully caressed the soaked fabric, right on your covered clit. The gentle touch was enough to set your body on fire. 
You pushed your ass against his crotch again and he grunted out a quiet fuck. Before rolling his hips against you in a rougher movement. The action made the both of you moan quietly as your mother was still sleeping in the same house. His hand then skimmed a bit higher against the edge of the fabric. 
His fingers then moved your underwear down, and he started to kiss and lick your neck, earning whimpers from you. The moment he touched your now bare clit, made you moan a bit too loud, stilling both your movements as your eyes widened in fear. But for moments nothing happened and he continued his movements, but not before warning you.
“Be quiet beautiful, don’t want your mother finding your neighbour's fingers deep in your cunt would you?” You gasped once again, words were dangerous coming out of his mouth. The effect he had on you was insane. 
He resumed, his thick fingers circling your clit. Then he also started to hump your ass again from behind. His own soft groans and moans mixed with yours. “You turn me into an animal baby, bet you could make me cum by just letting me grind against your ass.” The words spurred you on even more and you could feel yourself getting close.
The way his fingers perfectly stimulated your clit made you tremble beneath his touch. Sighs and pants left your lips as he rolled his hips against your ass in a stronger rhythm now, his fingers worked faster too, as he listened to your dizzying responses. 
Soon you were clutching his arm, holding your breath as you were so incredibly close. “Tommy- I’m so close- please-” He sucked and kissed your neck once more and sped up his fingers a bit, the way you gripped his arm was starting to hurt but he fucking loved it.
Then with a louder gasp and whine, your entire body spasmed and contracted, waves of ecstasy crashing through your body. Tom’s hand was stuck between your thighs but he wanted nothing more, the fact he did that to you made his cock twitch in his briefs. 
He had edged himself the whole time while pleasuring you, hoping he would be allowed to fuck you as well. Once you seemed to calm from your high, your body relaxed and Tom could move his hand again, but he wasn’t done. 
“Gonna let me fuck your tight cunt baby? Oh, please let me, need you so bad.” He groaned in your ear, showing you how much he needed you with a harsh pump of his hips. You breathed a yes and hiked up your nightgown yourself, tits on display for him. 
He immediately took advantage of it and massaged them with his freed hand, before tugging off his briefs, now fully naked as well. He took both of your clothes and threw them on the ground next to the bed. Then he caressed your skin again.
Kissing your shoulder and neck, and then he turned your head. Kissing your lips fiercely before stroking his cock a bit. “Do you have a condom pretty?” You nodded and gestured to your nightstand, the condoms still in there from when your ex used to visit. He quickly opened the drawer and pulled one out.
Never had you seen a man rip open and put on a condom so fast, it made you giggle a bit. He smiled at you and lovingly kissed your lips before you turned back so he could move his cock over your glistening folds. His tip caught over your hole and he gasped, “Can I?” You nodded again and he carefully slid his tip inside.
He almost fully entered you with how slick you were and the added lube on the condom. But he made sure to treat you delicately, so he slowly buried himself inside. Cursing under his breath at your warm walls hugging his cock. Once he got to the hilt, he let you get used to his size.
You breathed a please, and he got the hint to start moving. He rolled into you from behind and the small old bed started to creak a bit with his movements, somehow making the whole ordeal more intoxicating. “So fucking good baby, your tight little cunt feels so good, might get me addicted.” He grunted from behind. 
You could barely think as his cock pounded into you, mind blank as pleasure consumed you. Then you felt his fingers on your clit again, trying to sloppily match it up to his thrusts. The bed creaked louder when he drove into you harder, skin on skin slapping now also filling the room.
All attempts to be as quiet as possible flew out the window and now you just hoped you were both quiet enough. Each pound into you drew a moan from your lips, his own groans muffled by your neck he was nuzzled against. “Fuck baby, yes, yes, yes- feels so good, my little slut- fuck-” Your cunt squeezed him at his words making him groan even more.
Your cunt started to contract more and more around him, along with your breathless gasps it was a sign for him that you were close. So his fingers now found a good rhythm over your clit and along with his noises, the bed, your colliding skin and his thrusts, euphoria found you again. Your back arched against him and his hand was once again trapped in his favourite place. You twitched against him and your walls contracted around his cock tightly. 
“Yeah- yeah- baby- come for me. You gonna make me cum- you want that? You want me to fuck my cum inside you?” A moan was the only response he needed and he spilled his spend all inside the condom, moans and gasps left his lips as well, as he thrusted a couple more times inside you. 
Curses left his lips as he made sure he completely emptied himself in the condom, pretending he was filling up your pretty cunt instead. His movements stilled as he held onto you. Both of your heavy breaths filled the room, now quite hot enough. 
After a while he carefully slipped his soft cock out of you and removed the condom. Tying it up before leaving you to throw it in your trashcan. He then picked up your nightgown and underwear and gave it to you with a smirk, before pulling on his own briefs again.
He slipped back next to you and you had now turned to face him, an uncontrollable smile on your face. He pecked your lips before doing it again and again, earning a laugh from you. He wrapped his arms protectively around you and then kissed your cheek. 
And so you fell asleep in his arms and when morning came, you were late for work and had a lot of explaining to do to your mother. Who screamed as she entered your room that morning.
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illuminakisser · 8 months ago
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EVERYTHING WE KNOW ABOUT THE PHIGHTING APRIL FOOLS TOWER AS OF NOW, THIS WILL BE UPDATED AS MORE INFO IS DISCOVERED OR MORE THEORIES ARE MADE.
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ok info about whats theorized to be medkits nightmare GO
Title of game : . (its a period)
Icon is the same as base game, background is the default one
The music playing is just overtime slowed down by a lot
1. MAP
You spawn on a road with sidewalks that have candles, you have a lantern in your inventory.
As you walk you will occasionally see an exit sign.
Halfway, pillars stretch up from the ground, most are normal but some are shaped like hands that reach to the sky. On top of the hands are weird figures with glowing green eyes and horns that look like something from the flaming horns series?
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(thats the closest thing i could find,,,)
At the end of the road is the default Happy Home, though with minor modifications. An exit sign is right at the stairs and pointing at the door. Tube tvs are inside the home, a giant one at the middle against the wall with two stacks of tvs in the corners. The left side has one tv off, while the others are full of red static. They don't do anything when interacted with.
Note: This sorta resembles the thumbnail for scythe's teaser.
They also look like the TVs in broker's secret room (i reached the image limit so cant show ough)
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Outside to the left and on top of the house are the same weird green eyed figures.
2. DIALOGUE
There are many figures running around saying various phrases,
phrases that ive seen:
"Help!"
"you traitor"
"do something"
"be useful"
"please help me"
"Useless support"
"Help me!"
"help"
"please just heal me"
"Please heal me"
"How's your eye?" (Idk if this is random dialogue or subspace dialogue)
Though, some of these figures are saying things from medkit ally dialogue.
Ingame dialogue phrases:
"Do I really want to work with a rebel on my team?" - Banhammer
"Hey!! Great seeing you!!" - Subspace
"How's that eye doing??" - Subspace
3. THE OVERSEER NEXTBOT OR SOMETHING IDK
You are chased by an overseer eye, it can't be stopped permanently. Though, it can be halted by positioning yourself in the right area, however, it has good pathing and can jump extremely high, so you can't hide from it.
Getting caught by it results in an image showing up on the screen, this rewards you a badge the first time you see it.
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Random note: the eye is weirdly clean? im not sure if its medkit's eye or not since I remember soda saying that subspace just threw the eye away,, (not sure if this is still canon)
After this you get kicked from the game with the message "You must kill him to become him."
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The interesting thing is that this is the description of the overseer eye cosmetic.
This probably means something like "you must kill overseer to become him" or something but what does that mean who is killing overseer huh what
↑ ok theories have been made (thank u discord user ankles0560 for the medkit part)
The one killing him might be either medkit or katana.
KATANA : there is dialogue between katana and ban hammer
Ban Hammer: "You can't get involved with the business of the dudes higher up." Katana: "And who will stop me?"
↑ I will expand on this later but im eepy rn help
MEDKIT : ok the whole thing is about Medkit so the kick message is probably the overseer eye talking to Medkit,,
Soda has said that if Katana knew more about Medkit, he would kill him. This could mean multiple things but very interesting hm
Another interesting thing is the jumpscare noise, it is a jumpscare noise used in old games.
The interesting part is what it is, the noise is actually the sound of the subspace tripmine slowed down, whether this was just coincidence or because of the subspace thing is unknown, it might even be both?
EXTRA . CHURCH OF THE TRUE EYE INFO
Not really related to the tower but just what we know about the cult
A religious group within lost temple, not everybody from lost temple is a member of it.
It is mentioned in Medkit's phone dialogue.
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Every member of the cult is missing an eye.
Soda has mentioned that the reason why Sword's eye isn't missing is because he wasn't born in lost temple.
CORRECTION: Sword was born in lost temple, but wasn't raised in it. The point still stands that this is the reason why he hasn't lost an eye.
Based on dialogue between medkit and banhammer, it has been around for a while now. (THANK YOU FOR TELLING ME)
It is unknown what the goals or structure of the cult are currently.
They have a uniform, Medkit, Scythe, and Broker share the motif of outfits of mostly teal.
Scythe calls Vine Staff "blessed" in her dialogue with her, this is related to the cult somehow since in the same conversation Vine says "No! You and your creepy family can buzz off!"
^ According to broker, her curse is rare but she isn't the first one to have it.
They call themselves a family, and call Overseer their Father.
Overseer info:
There is barely any, but this is what we know.
They are referred to as a leader, it is unknown whether they are the faction leader or just the cult leader.
Scythe refers to him as a deity, whether they truly are one, manipulated the cult into believing they are, or the cult simply calls him a deity is unknown.
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An alternative is that she isn't talking about overseer here at all, though if that is so we don't know if she's talking about a sfoth deity or a different one. ← if it is a sfoth deity, it is most likely to be darkheart or venomshank (or maybe even ghostwalker? idk)
btw soda said this. soda wdym
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Feel free to add more info or things i missed/got wrong in reblogs or comments!!
pls do say more info if you have it im making this based on what the guys im theorizing with are saying i didnt have time to do more than 1 playthrough
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seireiteihellbutterfly · 9 months ago
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Second Chance Sorcerer
Chapter 1 - Phantom Tokyo
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Summary: After surviving Mahito's Idle Transfiguration in the Shibuya Incident, Nanami finds himself in an unknown realm between life and death. Will he escape?
Pairing: Nanami Kento x Fem! reader
A/N: I can't believe I actually got around to writing this! *sobs*. I hope everyone does take the time to read it, and enjoys what I've created here. This will be a multi-chapter fic, quite different from the one-shots I've posted before. It was originally made with an OC, which can be read on my AO3 account, but all changes have been made to y/n here.
Thank you @actuallysaiyan for making the lovely title banner and for listening to me rant and giving me all the encouragement to finish this chapter. Everyone needs a cheerleader like you. 💜
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Nanami masterlist
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“You’ve got it from here…Itadori kun.”
Those were the last words Nanami remembers saying before Mahito’s Idle Transfiguration fragmented his soul into smithereens. All he felt was pain, gut-wrenching pain as his soul collapsed and rearranged itself, piece after piece trying various combinations of alignment, trying to come back into some semblance of a whole, like chromosomes after being hit with a lethal dose of radiation.
His eyes squeeze shut, senses overloading as he prepares to meet whatever awaits him on the other side. Would it be a lovely afterlife like he’d hoped? Filled with long days on the beach, reading the backlog of books he’d been holding off on? Laying in the sun, no work, no obligations, just doing whatever he wanted to his heart’s content? He felt warmth against his chest, a bright light emanating from it, and for a split second, it felt like someone was calling out to him, a very familiar voice…
And all of a sudden it stops. With a thump, he crumples on something solid, his side colliding with the surface. Was this it? Was he in the afterlife? Nanami hesitantly opens his eyes and takes in his surroundings.
At first, it appears like he’s landed on a sidewalk that wound deeply into a very gloomy and derelict-looking city. He could make out buildings, traffic lights, and little shops tucked away in between these larger structures, all of them looking abandoned or in various states of disuse. Not exactly what he’d hoped for. Was this actually the Great Beyond? 
Nanami pushes himself to his feet, relieved when he realizes he’s not in pain anymore. Had Mahito sent him to a separate contained domain? He squints, trying to find his bearings. There was no sunlight wherever he was, but the street lamps were lit along the length of the sidewalk, casting shadows along the way. He cautiously looks around. The place looks strangely familiar…
He grasps his weapon, the blade having still been in his hand when Mahito touched him, and advances down the road. As he walks, he realizes with a jolt that wherever he is appears to be a phantom of his neighborhood. He recognized this road now, as he had frequented it so often. Up ahead was the grocery store he would go to every Saturday. And right opposite it, a little cafe he would sometimes wander into for their lovely croissants and artisan coffee. The more he walked, the more he started piecing together a map of this area, astonished at what he was seeing. This certainly couldn’t be a domain expansion. There was far too much detail resembling the real world and, although the place gave a foreboding aura, seemed to be unoccupied except for himself. 
He stops in the middle of the sidewalk, lowers his weapon, and tries to think. Logic was telling him Mahito had sent him somewhere, perhaps a sealed space, rather than kill him outright. But if that was the case, why was he healed? His entire left side which had been covered with fatal burns was gone, the skin healed over like new, his eye regenerated, hair grown back. His clothes and shoes had somehow been restored to their original condition, his glasses back to their position on his face. 
Things weren’t adding up. He continued to walk, then came upon a library he remembered passing by in the real world but had never really paid attention to before. Deciding this was as good a spot as any to glean information about his whereabouts, he enters, squinting through the darkness. Lines and lines of shelves stood neatly arranged in the building. Nanami walks between the rows, pausing in between sections for a brief moment before continuing his perusing. 
He rounds the corner, then quickly presses his back against a bookshelf as he senses an unusual energy signature fading away from him. So he wasn’t alone, and the thought wasn’t comforting. The energy didn’t match a human or a sorcerer, so he had to assume it was a special-grade curse. After his interactions with Jogo and Mahito, he didn’t know what to expect in terms of its abilities. He was tempted to escape but knew he had nowhere to go. If he was trapped in this domain what hope was there to escape this odd being he was sensing?
Raising the clothed blade with its polka dot pattern, he follows the energy steadily, not daring to breathe too loudly as he advances. It moves stealthily and silently, as though trying to elude him. This makes him immediately wary, sensing he could be getting lured into a trap. He follows at a distance, then stops as he comes to a reading section, the area cleared out and decorated with little chairs, poufs, and tables. Struggling to see in the dim light, he moves into the open, instincts screaming that he’s making a mistake. He pauses, trying to sense the energy again.
“It’s rude to chase one with a weapon you know.” A voice says from directly behind him. Nanami startles and spins around to face his pursuant, arms immediately coming before him to block an impending attack. Upon seeing the sight before him, his gaze fills with both fear and wonder, the being in front of him a vision of amazement. 
All he sees at first are a pair of piercing silver eyes that seem to probe the very depths of his soul. There’s a quiet insightfulness to them like he was looking into the eyes of an old friend, yet an unsettling intensity that made him feel apprehensive. The being appeared to lack a shape, but as Nanami took another step back, the light from the street lamps showed it to be made of wisps of black shadowy mist, neither fluid nor gas, swirling endlessly around it. 
Something within him tells him he shouldn’t fear this creature, yet all instincts were telling him to charge the attack before it got to him first. They stood, staring at each other through the dimness, before Nanami gathered his courage and asked, “What are you? A curse?”
The being huffs, as if it was an impertinent question. “What am I…Who am I…The question has been asked for centuries. Yet, even I do not have an appropriate answer…But I am most definitely not a curse.”
It glides silently over the floor, and Nanami instinctively raises his weapon. The being appears to look amused, based on the way those intense silver eyes glowed. “Put away your blade, Nanami Kento. The things I could have done to you once you entered my realm can’t be defended against by you, or even a special-grade sorcerer for that matter. I doubt even Ryomen Sukuna would stand a chance against me.” The smoky form billows, ebbing and flowing as it circles him. 
Not entirely reassured, Nanami puts his weapon back in the holder of his suspenders. There’s an odd feeling of reverence despite the eerie nature of the being. 
“I am what they call The Mediator, The One Before Death, or The Spectator.” It answers his question. 
“And where am I?” Nanami asks the shadow. 
“You are in between worlds, Nanami Kento.”
“In between worlds?” The blonde man repeated skeptically. Did such a thing exist? He had never given death much thought (beyond the dying part), and always assumed it was like being asleep one moment and waking up in paradise the next. To be in between worlds…had Mahito somehow just locked him away in another dimension that was a bleak version of his neighborhood? 
“So…am I…alive? But in another dimension?”
The Mediator looked at him thoughtfully, as though wondering how best to explain to him. “You are alive for now. But you definitely died, otherwise you wouldn’t have ended up here in my realm.”
“I died, and came back to life?” The sorcerer frowned at the obscureness with which this said. “That makes no sense. People don’t just arbitrarily resurrect from the dead. I was severely weakened. My soul was unprotected. Mahito’s attack should have killed me.”
“It did. However, something at that moment reversed the attack and restored the various fragments your soul had shattered into.”
Disbelievingly, Nanami started running his hands over his torso as though trying to find evidence that he had died. It was just…fantastical…impossible…He had survived Mahito’s attack? What divine intervention could have possibly saved him from something so deadly? As his fingers near his wrist, they brush over a small chain, hidden under the cuff of his shirt. He quickly undoes the button and looks incredulously at the small charm, an Aum symbol, dangling from the chain. 
“Y/n…” he murmurs her name softly. His apprentice. He now remembers her fastening one of these to not just him but to Ino and Itadori as well before they were deployed to Shibuya. 
“That’s probably what saved you,” the being said evidently, interrupting Nanami’s thoughts. “Whatever that is, it was imbued with a heavy concentration of neutralized curse energy. So when you died from the attack, that charm activated and repaired your soul.”
Nanami absently fingered the charm, trying to think. Y/n’s ability to neutralize cursed energy had improved immensely under his tutelage, he knew that, but he hadn’t imagined it to this extent. Her other ability included being able to manipulate any cursed energy she neutralized into forms of heat, summoning flames on her palms that towered at least  20 feet tall. How she had imbued the energy into the charm was anyone’s guess. 
“And I’m in between worlds.” He repeats again, trying to make sure he’s not misunderstanding the conversation.
“Indeed. Think of this as your own personal purgatory.” Those silver eyes bore into him like moons against a black sky, waiting to see his reaction.
Purgatory. Nanami pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose, unable to fathom how insane this sounded. “I thought purgatory was for people who needed to be redeemed.”
“It is usually. But in your case, it looks like the veil partitioning the worlds got confused, seeing as how you left one dead, and then suddenly became alive in another. Death probably couldn’t figure out what to do with you so it sent you here instead.”
“So I’m stuck here?”
Despite the miraculousness of it all, Nanami couldn’t help but feel a twinge of irritation. He had been prepared for death for several years now. So much to the point that he had a will drafted, signed, and sealed, declaring all his possessions to be donated to charity since he had no other family or next of kin. A copy of the keys to his house had been entrusted to the lawyer who had helped draft the will. He had all his affairs set in order with the expectation that his death would be sudden and he was unwilling to burden anyone to deal with the repercussions. 
He had known he would die in the line of duty. He had accepted his fate the moment Mahito had laid a hand on him in the underground, welcoming death as a tranquil friend. His whole life had been struggle after struggle, a gamble, clawing his way to stay alive. All he could say was that he had been lucky so far. There had to be a moment when that luck ran out. He had been dreaming of knowing peace and death seemed to be the only option for that. 
“Does it bother you, that you are alive?” The purgatory being asks him curiously, noting his less-than-happy expression. “Most would rejoice at this second chance for life.”
The question hits Nanami with a gravity he hadn’t been expecting. “Most people haven’t lived my life. I’ve done enough. I’m tired. I’ve earned the right to a peaceful death.”
“And yet, it looks like someone desperately wanted you to live.” Those hypnotic eyes wander over to the charm dangling on his wrist. “Is that not reason enough? To not want to die?”
Disturbed by the notion, Nanami grips the charm. Y/n’s energy had kept him alive, unwittingly preventing him from moving on into the afterlife. Whether that had been her intent was debatable. Her desperately wanting him to live? It just didn’t seem likely to him. Sure, perhaps she didn’t want him to die in the way that people didn’t want others to die in general. But beyond that? He couldn’t fathom her being so consumed by the thought of his death that she would create a charm that essentially kept him alive after having his soul damaged to what should have been a point beyond repair. 
Y/n had a late start in her career as a sorceress, and certain concepts about it seemed to stymie her, more typically seen in a younger student than someone her age. He had repeatedly told her to not worry about him when he took her on missions, to value her life more than his. He drilled it into her head when he taught her self-defense, that if there was an opportunity to escape she should take it, the hand-to-hand combat sometimes leaving bruises on her skin because she’d been unwilling to take a shot at him. It always pained him when that happened, marking her, leaving those unsavory blemishes on her but how else was she going to learn that fairness wasn’t something that existed in Jujutsu? Her willingness to get a little scuffed up if it meant protecting him from a curse irked him. She was rather like a kitten unwilling to be shooed away from a reluctant petter. His lips curled wryly as he imagined her expression if she ever heard that comparison out loud. 
‘Don’t be so cruel Nanami san!’ She’d probably say, those large (color) eyes looking at him reproachfully. And for a moment, his mind’s eye couldn’t picture anything else except that; those large (color) eyes, and the shock in them when he told her that he didn’t think he’d live very long. She hadn’t said anything to convince him his mindset was wrong, but she did look like he had betrayed her by expressing his very honest and logical opinion. As though he had broken an oath to her by not saying he wanted to live long and prosper. 
Nanami gives himself a mental shake. This wasn't the time to be thinking about Y/ni's opinion on his death. The bigger task at hand now was figuring out what to do about his imprisonment in purgatory. 
All the while, the shadow hadn’t wavered and had merely continued to look at him work through his inner monologue. Realizing that Nanami had reached a limit, it said, “No, you are not stuck here. At least, not for very long.”
The sorcerer’s head snaps up at those words, eyes narrowing behind the green glass of his frames. “What do you mean, not very long?”
“Well, the neutralized energy imbued into that charm? It’s not infinitely going to remain contained in that. The seal broke when it saved your life, and it’s essentially trickling out little particles of it. It will run out at some point, although it’s difficult to say when that is.”
“And when it does run out?”
“You’ll die.” The being says simply. “And move on into the next realm. That’s the way purgatory is supposed to work. Cleanse you to be fit to live in the realm of death.” 
“And it’s unknown when that will happen?”
The shadow appears to ponder his question before offering a hesitant guess. “A few days, maybe 4 or 5 at maximum, based on the energy intensity that it's currently emitting.”
“And what am I to do for 4 to 5 days here?” Nanami gestures around the gloomy library, obviously not impressed with this arrangement. These extra days before his impending death somehow made a vein pop in his forehead. It was like a pre-death before the actual one.
“Well, you must have noticed by now that this is the neighborhood you used to live in. You are free to wander around here and experience your old life one last time. You can visit your apartment, take the subway and wander around the Jujutsu High campus, or watch a movie in the theater.” The shadow suggested, sounding like a pleasant tour guide for the afterlife. “Think of it as a vacation before your death.”
It struck Nanami as a little absurd but he strokes his chin, considering. “And that’s my only option? To experience my old life before dying?”
“It’s not the only option. You could go back and live.”
A pregnant pause hangs in the air at those words. Nanami’s eyes widen at the thought. He could go back to the land of the living? He hadn’t even considered that as an option. He only had death on his mind. Thoughts of living on a beach, days filled with no responsibility still flickered through his mind but at the same time…
“What is it about life that makes you so hesitant?” The purgatory being asks him inquisitively. 
Nanami opens his mouth but no words come out. Had he been thinking about how to escape his situation that all he had ever thought about was dying? It wasn’t unexpected of him. He had learned so long ago that life was mostly shit, with a few moments of relief folded in. At least it was for curse users. He remembers seeing all the people he knew die, how he had tried to escape from Jujutsu, only to be sucked back in because he knew he didn’t fit in anywhere else. When faced with the choice of remaining in a job of corporate greed, or one that endangered his life but was somewhat altruistic, the choice became apparent. He had returned to Jujutsu. Not entirely selflessly, but with the idea that it was the quicker way out of his misery. 
“Is there nothing you would like to return to?” The shadow presses. “Remember that you are a very rare case. Hardly anyone ends up in purgatory under your circumstances. I would hate to see a life go to waste because you don’t know what to do with it.”
A sudden memory comes into Nanami’s mind. A day of unexpected frivolity, when Y/n, Yuji, and Ino had convinced him to come along to an amusement park. It was an odd day but to his surprise, he hadn't hated it. Y/n had mostly stayed away from the roller-coasters, leaving it to Yuji and Ino, wandering with Nanami to the food stalls, closer in age to him than she was to the boys. It was a strange feeling of domesticity he had never experienced before, almost like they were a hodgepodge family of misfits. It was the closest thing he had experienced to a normal day in a long time. 
But days like that were rare. They were like sprinkles on top of ice cream. People could never have more sprinkles than ice cream. Life just didn't work that way. However, Nanami found himself contemplating his choices. Perhaps he had been so jaded that he thought life was wading through ice cream instead of appreciating the sprinkles? And here he was dreaming about sprinkles when he was stuck in purgatory. 
He sighs and shakes his head. “If I did go back, would it make a difference?” He asks doubtfully. 
The being’s eyes crinkle warmly, almost like it's smiling. “To one person, yes. And isn't that more than enough?”
The charm swings from his wrist like a pendulum. He considers the shadow’s words and feels his heart clench uncomfortably. The stakes almost felt too high, wagering his return to life on the chance that it would make a difference to Y/n. Well, maybe not just her. He frowns as he feels the energy in the trinket resonate for a brief moment when he thinks of her, as though it was trying to convince him to make the gamble. He had never quite paid attention to her energy signature before now, so concentrated within the tiny object; it felt like a warm cup of coffee on a lazy Saturday morning. He feels disconcerted that he could sense this now and it was making him want to change his mind about dying. He sighed deeply, feeling his resolve begin to solidify, even though it felt like he was making the wrong choice. 
“How do I get out of here?” 
The shadow has no features except its eyes, but if Nanami could assign it an expression, it would have to be triumph.  
“I’m so glad you asked.” It appraisingly looks at him, before continuing. “Perhaps you might want to let the lady know you’re alive.”
“Must I?” Nanami asks with a hint of exasperation. 
The shadow looks amused but continues in an even tone. “I’m afraid I must insist. It's better to give people a warning when you’re coming back from the dead. Prepares them for the prospect of seeing you again. Trust me, it’s better that way.”
“And how do I do that?” 
It merely continues to look at him with that amused expression and Nanami almost lets out a growl of frustration. “Listen. I died. Then I was told I wasn’t dead, but I’ll die soon. Then I changed my mind and decided I wanted to live. The least you can do is tell me how to get a message out of here.”
The purgatory being laughs; it’s an eerie noise, yet had all the comfort of a long-lost friend. “Very well 7:3 Sorcerer. It’s simple really. To send a message out of here, all you need to do is blend your cursed energy with the cursed energy of the person you’re thinking about going back to life for. Imbue this energy into a small object which will then find a way to its recipient.”
The elementary way this was said nearly cracks his temper. “Is that all?” He asks, unable to keep the bite of sarcasm out of his voice. 
The shadow chuckles at this, adding to his ire. “It really is. Just try focusing on something other than your disappointment of not dying today.” 
Nanami takes a deep breath and exhales through his nose trying to keep his composure. “A small object…” His hand grips the handle of his blade and pulls it out, eyeing it carefully. The whole blade wouldn’t make it. He just automatically knew it. But he wanted to make sure Y/n would recognize the message was from him. He fidgets with the blade, thinking, and then by accident, the edge of it comes in contact with the Aum charm. 
The blend of energy that shoots through him was a shock; a mix of the warm coffee on Saturday mornings, coupled with the calculated preciseness of a seasoned Q-grader who assessed those coffee beans. The polka dots spattered all over the cloth wrapping the weapon glowed at the edges for a brief second before the blade lost contact with the charm. 
Nanami observed the whole process with fascination. Dormant instinct took over him, and he moved his hand so that the charm now swung over the blade. Focusing on that combined energy signature, he purposefully touches the charm to the blade. Y/n’s neutralized curse energy flows into the blade, and he feels his own beginning to fuse with it. He concentrates on his ratio technique, and with a flash, all the polka dots lift off the blade, glowing with a pale sea foam green aura. 
“Find her,” he whispers to the dots, and in a hazy glow, they vanish. 
Nanami watches, as though in a daze, unable to believe what had just happened. He turns to look at the purgatory being.
“Message sent. Now, how do I get out of here?”
The shadow being had been looking at the spot where the polka dots had vanished. It swirls around and looks at him in the eyes. 
“By facing your deepest regrets.”
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en-ternity · 27 days ago
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welcome to en-ternity’s LIBRARY! for now i am posting it just as a matter of organization. all the stories listed here are yet to be (re)posted ♡
REBLOGS, LIKES, COMMENTS, or any type of interaction are (going to be) more than welcome! ♡ just please be aware that i write SFW and NSFW stories. it’s correctly labeled and the respective warnings are going to be on the main post, therefore i am not responsible for your media consumption
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HEARTS IN THE WIND
Heeseung never had believed in love — or at least, not in the real thing — not the capable of awakening his soul and bringing peace to his mind kind of love. It was something to other people, in other places, but not to a street racer like him in the small county of Hongcheon. Yet, in the summer of his twenty-four, you came into his life, and from the moment he saw you, he knew he was a goner
╰ strangers to lovers, street racing & summer romance|coming soon
NIGHTS LIKE THIS
When you messaged Heeseung telling him you had a bad day, you hadn’t expected him to do anything about it. The sad emoji he sent you as a reply being his only resort. It was the end of the semester, after all, both of your desks were cluttered with papers for the upcoming exams. And to add to the situation, he had taken his car to the garage this afternoon, something about the brake pad being worn out and making the idea of him driving to your place in the middle of the night impossible. But then, he was there
╰ established relationship|coming soon
THIS IS HOW YOU FIND FOREVER
Heeseung wasn’t the type of boyfriend to buy you expensive bouquets or take you to fancy restaurants. No. He was the type of boyfriend to pick flowers on the sidewalk for you and order food past midnight. He laid blankets on the hardwood floor of your living room and made picnics on it. And then, when the bowls were empty and the wine sank in, he was the type of boyfriend to ask you to dance with him. Barefoot and clumsy, Heeseung loved to dance with you
╰ established relationship|coming soon
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HEAVEN KNOWS
Aside from Jongseong’s whispered jokes of desiring to eat you alive, your boyfriend never had been anything but gentle with you in bed. Kind hands and soft touches, always patient, and always putting you first. Not that it was bad — no, he was the best you ever had. But it had been inevitable for you to not grow curious about what he meant by his eccentric statement. So you asked
╰ established relationship|coming soon
THE LONG WAY HOME
When you told your parents you were going to move to New York, they made you promise a single thing: you would make your way back home every Christmas. No matter how busy you were, you should be in Seattle for Christmas. And through years, it had been an easy thing to do. But then — the worst snowstorm in the country’s history caused your flight to get canceled, and you found yourself on a sudden road trip with your ex-classmate — who always had a secret crush on you
╰ ex-classmates to lovers & christmas special|coming soon
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MEET ME AT OUR SPOT
The luxurious hotel of Shinhwa had only one rule for their employees: do not get involved with the guests — and in special with their daughters. Jake always had been pretty good at following it throughout all those summers of being the hotel’s lifeguard — well, until you came
╰ forbidden love & summer romance|coming soon
STRINGS OF FATE — mini-series
The blood feud between the southern kingdom and the northern kingdom was a tale so old. It had worn thin by the amount of times it had been rolled and twisted by foreign tongues. The original words now nothing but a memory of a tale too often told, but you knew you were supposed to hate Jaeyun just as he was supposed to hate you
╰ royalty & soulmate|coming soon
THE POTTERY SHOP AT THE END OF THE WORLD
Falling in love with your older brother’s best friend certainly wasn’t one of your summer resolutions. Actually, meeting him wasn’t even part of your plans. But one day, you happened to have no other option than to appear unannounced at his little pottery shop in Seogwipo, a stray kitten in a pet carrier and asking for a place to stay, and well — you couldn’t help but do
╰ older brother’s best friend & summer romance|coming soon
UNTIL THE SUN NO LONGER SHINES (BABY, I’M YOURS)
It’s not that Jake disliked the nights of sex — he just tended to like the mornings after a little bit more
╰ established relationship|coming soon
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WRITTEN IN THE STARS
During the course of your relationship with Sunghoon, you had found a dozen ways to wake him up, yet tracing his moles definitely was your favorite one
╰ established relationship|coming soon
THANK YOU FOR PASSING BY!
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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 10 months ago
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Second Best 1
Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.
My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.
Characters: Lee Bodecker
Summary: The newly-single sheriff sets his eye on an unexpected match.
Part of the Backwoods AU
As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.
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"You're so boring. Vanilla," Greta teases as you push through the grocery store door to the sidewalk.
"Simple but tasty," you roll your eyes, "as if Rocky Road is so exciting."
"Whatever," she follows you to the picnic table just outside the store. 
You sit as she swipes her tongue around the heaping scoops and you take tiny licks of your own. You pull the napkin closer to the top to catch the melting drip. She presses her lips to the ice cream before popping them off and licking them clean. You frown at her but she's looking past you.
You crane to look over your shoulder. Sheriff Bodecker stands by his cruiser, sunglasses on as he stares in your direction. He wears a crooked grin as he leans his weight on one heel, emphasizing the pudge around his middle.
You turn back to hide your disgust.
"He's a bit old for you," you chide.
"Old and rich. Single now, too," she continues to fellate the cone as you try not to hurl up vanilla.
"Charming," you muse.
"Loosen up," she hisses, "not all of us are pure little virgins.
"Shut up," you exclaim, "am not."
She arches a brow in challenge and you try to shrug her off. Your cheeks burn and you try to cool off with another lick of the cone. She's your best friend but she can sure be cruel.
A shadow approaches and blocks out the sun. You glance over from the corner of your eye and see the silhouette of the Sheriff's broad hat brim. Greta tugs on a strand of her  hair and leans forward so her tank top slumps down her chest.
"How are you doing, sheriff?" She purrs.
"Fine day out," he drawls, "I'm doing just good. You girls enjoying the sunshine. Stayin' outta trouble."
"Trouble? I wouldn't know anything about that now," she flirts with a wink. You smother your sarcasm with the dessert.
"Oh, you don't?" He puts a hand on the table and leans, "I didn't see you down at The Horn last Saturday?"
"Did you? You didn't say hi," she intones.
"Suppose I was feelin' shy," he chuckles.
"Gret, come on," you shift the cone as you try to sop up the melting ice cream, "let's find some shade."
"You can go," she dismisses with a flick of her fingers.
You huff and look between her and the sheriff. He glances down at you and grins.
"Sorry, sweetie, I'm not meaning to shoulder ya out," he turns and stands straight, crossing his arms over his stomach, "you know, I'm not a selfish man. I can handle both of ya."
The airs knocked out of you at his suggestion. You're not a prude by any means. Maybe not experienced but you're open-minded. He just isn't your type and you shouldn't be his.
"Um," you swallow and stand, "I... I'm going to grab more napkins."
He scoffs as you step over the bench and you quickly skirt away. If he didn't have a badge, you would tell him where to go. You're so tired of Greta doing this. It's exactly why you don't go to the bar with her.
You go inside and stride back up to the ice cream bar. You grab napkins and send Oskar a smile over the top. He chuckles at the mess trickling down your hand.
You decide to wander the aisles and give Greta a chance to sow her endless wild oats. Ugh. The sheriff? Really? Word is he left the new librarian for a waitress his deputy was dating. Then they didn't last more than a week. 
It's gross how the old women gossip and say the librarian didn't do enough for him, that she never gave him a child. The man needs a legacy and you can't blame him for finding someone who can deliver it. Ew. This place is so backwards.
You finish the cone and go into the bathroom to rinse off the stickiness on your fingers. You head back out, hoping it's enough time for the sheriff to get a call. As you emerge, you see Greta walking with him to his cruiser.
"Really? You're just going to ditch me?" You snip as you approach.
"Now, darlin', you're welcome to join us," The sheriff turns with a wink.
"Um, no thanks," you say curtly and the corner of his lips twitches, "I'm good. Greta--"
"I don't feel like sitting around doing nothing," she snorts, "if you don't wanna have fun, go home."
You scowl and look away. It's not the first time, it won't be the last.
"Fine," you jut out your chin at her, "have fun."
"Don't be jealous?" 
"Trust me, I'm not," you snarl, "next time you call, I won't answer."
"You will," she snickers, "I'm your only fucking friend."
You wave her off and twist on your heel. As you do, you notice the sheriff watching you. You quickly avert your eyes and stomp away.
You can't help but quake with anger. As shitty as Greta can be, she's right. She is your only friend. You hate this town.
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littlenightma · 11 months ago
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Hello. Could you write more about Sheriff Eric Newlon (if he's dark or yandere it would be great.) Your article about him was great.
Yandere!Eric Newlon Headcanons
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• Eric comes off as a normal guy. Always has a smile on his face, greets everyone with warmth and is always there when someone needs him. His dazzling charm sucked you in. No one could have ever seen the darkness brewing beneath the surface of his nice guy facade.
• Eric thrives off of protecting you. He loves the way you curl into him with his coat wrapped around you as you two walk down the sidewalk or when you tighten your hold on his hand when you pass a group of unfamiliar people. You have no idea the lengths he would go to in order to keep you safe.
• No idea.
• And damn it what kind of man would he be if he allowed you to wander the world without him, alone, naive to the dangers that were lurking around every corner.
• Eric isn’t just in love with you. He’s obsessed with you. Everything about you Eric thinks about every waking hour of the day from your twinkling eyes, your gorgeous hair, down to your luscious body. He’s practically itching to get off his shift so he can drive home to find you curled up on the couch waiting for him.
• He has access to everyone’s files at the station, including yours. Especially yours. He keeps a copy locked in his desk drawer, tucked safe and sound, where he can pull it out whenever he wants to. All of the info he could ever want to know is right there within arm’s reach.
• He knew which cafés you preferred, which stores you liked shopping at, and where you got your car maintenaced. He knew everything about you before you even knew his name.
• You didn’t actually believe running into him as much as you did was all due to chance, did you? Silly one, you should know by now when it comes to Eric, nothing is ever just a coincidence.
• He pulls it out when he’s having a particularly bad day in order to run his thumb across the picture he took of you while you were out shopping with your friends. You’d stayed out longer than usual so he felt the need to check up on you and he got so enthralled by your beauty that he just had to snap a photo to remember the moment forever.
• You start noticing Eric’s paranoia emerge the longer you two are together and the more his feelings for you grow. At first, he comes as extremely protective, but then it progresses into something more darker, more…possessive.
• When he comes home to find you not there, he checks his phone. To his dismay there is no text and he becomes scared thinking that you were hurt. Call after call there is still no answer. Eric rarely shows himself so when you come home in the middle of his breakdown he is instantly in your face asking you question after question not letting you answer the first one. He chides you about not informing him of your whereabouts and berates you about who exactly you were with.
• You brush it off, believing it to be a symptom of being a cop for so long. You explain that you had to stay back at work to put finishing touches on a project and this seems to calm him some. He pulls you into a hug.
• “I’m sorry I acted like that, baby. I just get so scared when I don’t know where you are.”
• Puts a tracking app in your phone and on your car without you knowing. He can’t allow that to happen again. What if you had been hurt and what if he didn’t reach you in time? He can’t risk it.
• Black Friday shopping was always off limits to you, but when your friends invited you to go with last minute you decided to go. Eric had been constantly hovering and you yearned for space.
• What a stupid decision on your part.
• Eric is livid. He’s like a bull ready to charge as he’s driving out to find you. When he does, he is suspiciously calm. He asks you to come with him and you do and on the way home you apologize but he doesn’t say anything. His eyes are trained on the road. Inside the house though it’s like a matador had finally raised their red flag.
• He’s roaring. “I fucking told you not to be out on Black Friday! Why can’t you listen to me?! I’ve lost so much. So many people. I can’t lose you. I won’t lose you!”
• “Eric, you can’t expect me to stay home when everyone’s out shopping.”
• And then he snaps. He yanks your hair, his handsome face dangerously close to yours. “Don’t fucking do it again or I swear to God you’ll regret it.”
• And the worst part is that no one would ever believe that highly adorned and doting Eric Newlon would ever do something so horrible and so vicious.
• You’re stuck with no where to turn. If you leave, he’ll track you down with the plentiful resources he has at his disposal. You are trapped, forever his.
NSFW 18+
• You have pushed Eric past his limit. You are tied to the dining room table, legs spread and mouth gagged. He has presented you like an oven-baked turkey and he can’t wait to take a bite out of you. He runs his cock over your slick opening teasingly, preparing you to get basted by his cock.
• “You really don’t know what you do to me, do you? After everything I have done for you, all the love I have ever given and you still want to leave me.
• He thrusts exactly three times. “So. Very. Ungrateful.”
• You moan against your gag. Your body is betraying you. It accepts him with open arms, like he was meant to be inside you. You tried so hard to get away from him, but he always managed to reel you back in.
• Eric sees the turmoil on your face, sees the fight you’re having with yourself. With every snap of his hips he knows he’s closer to breaking you down and he’s desperate to do it.
• He pours cranberry sauce on your chest, letting it dye your chest maroon. He rubs the sticky liquid over your body and it looks like blood. Your blood.
• “I could fake your death so easily, you know. Then lock you up and keep you all to myself. No one would come looking for you. Or I could always find someone else who will appreciate my efforts.”
• You fight your binds, not liking that he was talking about someone else while he was rearranging your guts.
• “Ah, so you do care. What is it, dear? Want me all for yourself then?”
• Crawling on top of you, he unknots the gag and kneels over your face. He puts his cock to your mouth. “Why don’t you show me just how grateful you are.”
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zwhoreo · 1 year ago
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A fic of Luffy and Reader first meeting please 😍🙏 ( I love how you write Luffy)
tysm !!! <33 this turned out so cute i think
meeting him - luffy x gn!reader
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fluff
summary: while watching the ocean on your front steps one evening, you meet a boy named monkey d. luffy. he tells you about his life as a pirate, and teaches you how to skip rocks in the sea
words: 1.6k
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Evening is just around the corner but the sky is still high enough over those clouds on the horizon that there’s warmth on your skin, golden and marinated. You’re sitting on the stone steps of your front garden and watching the waves crash on the white sand in the distance, because it’s warm enough that it’s still worth it to be here, letting the breeze weave your fingers.
Not many people are around at this time of night, the world is peaceful and still, but that’s why your head turns, in curiosity and focus, at the sound of wooden sandals on the sidewalk ahead, a heavy thwacking of aimless stumbling, the horizon bends with a silhouette of a boy walking down the cobble path and looking ahead, dazed, smiling over nothing.
You lock eyes. Large, brown, thoughtless and friendly eyes. You’re captivated and for some reason your heart folds in on itself in a way you can’t quite explain. His features are delicate, oddly beautiful in an unlikely sort of way, a hazel tan and greasy black hair blowing gently in the wind beneath an old, frayed straw hat. He looks like he’s been out at sea for a very long time, but although weathered he’s incredibly youthful, an older teenager, you think. He’s dressed like a pirate, you know this look well, they come into taverns drunk on cheap rum and leer at the young girls, picking fights, you didn’t think there were many good pirates left these days but something about this boy is so profoundly different. He’s not like anyone you’ve ever seen before, in some way you can’t place.
You watch him, keenly interested now, chin resting on your hands. Maybe this is why he comes up to you, crouching so close in front of you, no shyness present in his face. There’s an old scar under his left eye, tight and pale with age.
“Hiya!” His voice is raspy and loud. “You seen my crew anywhere?”
“Your crew? Mm, I don’t know. I haven’t seen anyone come by here for a while.” You find yourself talking differently than usual, not like you normally do with strangers, it’s something in your voice, your annunciation, that catches you off guard.
“Aw, really? There’s a lady with orange hair and this guy and he’s got green hair and three swords and-” He stops in the middle of a frustrated gesticulation when he sees your blank eyes. “Mm. Ok, I’ll go look in town.”
And just like that he gets up to leave. You’re saddened, but you find your words catching in your throat. Don’t leave.
But he pauses a few paces away, turning back after a brief consideration. “Hey, ya got any food? I’m real hungry.”
You look up, breath hitching. Yes, yes, this is something you can do. “Oh, yeah, I just baked some bread, actually. I’ll go get it if you wanna wait here.”
“Ooh! Sounds good. Hey, thanks!” he calls to you warmly, turning back, trotting to your front steps as you go inside.
The bread basket has been cooling on the windowsill, the crust is golden and steam wafts through the room and wets your hands as you pick it up to bring it to him. But when you come outside again he isn’t on your steps, or in your garden, you look around to find him but he isn’t anywhere, not until you step into the road and look over the rock embankment.
There’s the boy, he’s sitting in the white sand and playing with rocks, stacking them in lopsided towers with great intent. You smile when you see him. He isn’t gone. So you climb onto the beach and come to him, he grins casually, like you had been there all along, and his eyes light up when you set the bread in front of him.
“Ahh! This looks soo good!” Before his words are finished he’s already eating messily, he doesn’t care about the sand on his hands, he’s so focused.
You sit by him. You lean in, admiring his face, finally speaking, “I’m [name], by the way.”
“I’m Monkey D. Luffy!” he proclaims with enthusiasm, still not looking up. “It’s good to meet ya!” And he goes back to eating, as if this simple greeting has made you best friends and now everything is solved, but that name is familiar somehow and you like him so much already and you need to know more.
“Are you a pirate?” you ask with a tilted head.
“Mhm!” Luffy says through a mouthful of bread, “and I’m gonna be king of ‘em!”
“Pirate king, huh?” You raise your eyebrows, you’re charmed by him.
“Mm! Do you like the sea, [name]?” You feel like he’s been shifting closer to you, you hear him all around you now, his chewing remains consistent, loud.
“Yeah, I mean, it’s one of the prettiest things in the world,” you say honestly, the waves glitter in front of you, an infinite land-sky, glitter on pearl on galaxy-blue. Sunspots, stars, they twinkle on its surface.
“It’s real fun to be a pirate,” he chirps, finishing the bread and turning to you, his smile is gleaming and his voice is soft but gleeful.
“Yeah? What kinda stuff do you do out there?” You just want to hear him speak more, you realize.
“Ah man, everything! We go on tons of adventures, and we sing, and we get to make new friends wherever we go… and we look for treasure! We’re tryna find the One Piece!”
He returns your enchanted stare. He makes it all sound so easy, taming the cruel sea. His chest rises and falls, breaths heavy with excitement, his hands palm at the sand and hey, he’s really moving closer now, isn’t he? His eyes are so sparkly, it’s impossible to look away from him.
“Wanna skip rocks with me?” he asks before you have time to reply. He’s distracted so easily, reaching happily for his little tower, weighing the smooth gray stone in his hand.
Aren’t you looking for your crew? you want to ask. But you can’t let go of him yet, this mysterious, perfect boy. So instead you say, “sure, if you can teach me. I’m not great at it.”
“You live by the sea and ya can’t skip rocks?” Luffy laughs at you, tossing his stone into the sea with a snap of his wrist, it bounces once, twice, spinning in the air, a battle to fly from the ocean’s hunger, before it’s pulled beneath, disappearing into the surf.
Your hands touch as he gives you a rock, perfectly round and smooth, warmed from his palm. You throw it but your arm falters, it falls with a splash, gone before it could fly, a ripple of a memory left on the water, nothing more. Luffy laughs at you again.
“Nah, that ain’t it, you gotta flick your arm and keep it straight.” He moves close enough where you can feel his breath on your skin, hot and thick. “Mm,” he murmurs in your ear, voice low and ripe, “like this…”
He’s behind you, leaning against you, taking your arm and positioning you for the right sort of throw. His skin feels strange, like warm rubber, but your mind is so clouded with him, with his musky, overpowering scent and the tickle of his hair, you don’t notice much of anything. By accident, for the briefest moment, his salt-dried lips brush your shoulder, this is like lightning within you. But for Luffy this is nothing, it means nothing to him to be this close, it’s just what seems so natural.
You throw again, a smaller rock this time, aided by his hands on your arm. You’re so dizzied by his touch and you expect it to be even worse this time but to your surprise the rock skips once, a single heartbeat.
“See! Ya did it!” Luffy shouts joyfully, slapping you on the back, a little too hard, before pulling you in for a hug.
This is the best hug you’ve ever had. So tight, so warm, he buries his head in your shoulder, his weight nearly knocks you into the sand. You grab him back, by pure instinct, you want this closeness never to leave you.
But in an instant he’s pulled away again, unfazed by his own affection. He adjusts his hat carefully, looking back at the water, face content. He throws and skips one last stone.
“Mh, my crew’s prolly looking for me, huh?” Luffy stands up, dusting off his jeans, tilting his head at you. And then he offers you a hand, pulling you up with him, you’re face to face again and he places a hand firmly on your shoulder and says, “you can come if you want.”
“Huh?”
“On my crew. You can come be a pirate with me!” And again he has that way of saying things so simply. He doesn’t know you, how could he be so sure? But in his eyes you feel so incredibly, impossibly known.
He turns around, ready to walk away down the beach into the dying sunlight, and he turns to you once more and says, “you gonna be here tomorrow?”
“Yeah, I will!” you call to him, and he flashes you a broad smile, a thumbs-up, before running away into the horizon. You know he’ll come back.
Romance isn’t even in your mind. You just have this intense feeling for him, a certain kind of instantaneous love that goes deeper than any of that. You feel bonded, like you’ve never felt before, and you don’t know how it happened. You just stand there in the sand, dazed and misty eyed. You want so desperately to see him again. Deep breaths, calm your body, tonight you’ll have time to dream about what you’ll say.
You could see the world with him. You want to right now, very badly, so why not? Maybe it is that simple.
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brianlesshetaliawritings · 4 months ago
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hey, since your request are open, can you write a Yandere Russia x reader? A scenario where the reader is a foreigner and he goes in reader's country to meet some important businessmen, just to fall for reader who was just standing in front of a store like🧍. Thank you❤️
Yandere Russia seeing reader for the first time
note: i loved this idea so much. thank you anon. this'll be in russia's point of view, and i'm sorry it took me so long. like really long.. to do this. if you request anything else pls specify that it's you so i can make it priority and make up for it by being faster next time.. just like add a star to it or some shit like that. i hope this is what u wanted but im not certain :(
!! yandere content. if you can't handle any behavior possibly seen in a yandere please don't read this. !! (example; obsessive, stalkery, possessive, violent, or generally horrid behaviour.)
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It was late when Russia was finally allowed to leave. Not his worst work day, but certainly not his lightest. Actually, he's been rather busy, this being his third country in this week alone. Luckily though, he's finally able to have some peace. Stroll around and take a view of the surrounding cityscape around him. He feels a bit out of place, but that's to be expected. It's something he's used to (even in his own country..)
But as he's walking, something hits him. He hasn't ate today. Too caught up in the busy-ness of the morning to even had thought about it. And he really doesn't want to enter a resturaunt, or cook at the hotel.. So he settles on something simpler. He'll just get himself a quick meal at a corner store, whatever pre-made thing is available really he isn't picky.. Had too hard of a life to be choosy with things such as food.
Looking through the streets, he finally finds one. The bright lights of the sign a bit bright as he looks at it too long.. He squints, blinking a bit to regain his sight and looking down to- oh? At this hour? He stares for a moment before slowly looking in the other direction, just to be sure he won't get noticed. God, they're gorgeous. So much so he doesn't even feel hungry anymore, or exhausted, or anything. It's like the very presence of this mysterious stranger just caught him. Something he struggles to not rocket focus on, and he hasn't a clue why. Blinking, he looks down at the road. Why's he so focused on this random person just looking at the signs in front of the store window tonight? Maybe he's just so tired he can't focus.
Shaking his head, Russia walks across the street and goes past them, having to use every tiny bit of control he has to not gawk at them the entire time as he goes through the door. Making his way in-between shoves, he decides to just try and not get caught absolutely enamored by this beautiful individual he just found himself. Carefully looking through all the chips and jerky and whatnot he decides to lean down and settle on some potatoe chips. An easy answer. And as soon as he stand back up, his eyes conveniently land right back on the very person from earlier! They went in after him and yet they're checking out earlier. He looks over their outfit, then the counter. What they got looks good..
Putting his chips back up, he goes to the back of the store. Where is it all.. Grabbing the drink you got from the fridge before looking all about the store to get the rest. And he sighs once he finishes. He sort of wishes he didn't decide to avoid you, internally kicking himself in the ass for making that decision. Quickly getting his items checked out, he steps outside the door, looking both ways.. There. Turning. He follows you at a steady speed, not too slow, not too fast. But then, a crowd spawns from the middle of norwhere as you're passing a street and.. Your gone. He looks around, but there aren't any signs of you anywhere. Standing at the sidewalk of the intersection, he sighs, frowning. Just as quick as you showed up, you dissapeared.
He doesn't know why, but he has a feeling this person will haunt his mind until he finally finds them again. Hell- they already are. And it's making him increasingly frustrated that he didn't try and come up to you. His grip tightening a bit on the bag, he makes a promsie to himself. He'll find you. Even if it's the last thing he'll do.. He'll find you.
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canarydarity · 1 month ago
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(Happy Team Rancher week!! :D this is for today, the last day, AU fest. this is an au that I've had on the back burner for a while, but its for a ya book series I read in middle school and absolutely adore, and so I'm really glad I was able to finish this scene up and get it out here for the event!! The very basic premise is that Tango, Impulse, Skizz, and Etho are students at a teenage spy school. On their first ever field training mission, Tango meets Jimmy. Exceedingly, exceptionally normal Jimmy. Enjoy :) <3)
Hermitville looked as if every store-front was painted neatly on wooden slats and propped up from behind by a 2-by-4, its display perfectly weathered and distressed to look as if you could turn the cardboard handle and walk through the door of a family-run business, 75 years strong. But the fact was that you actually could do that—these were real stores in a real town, no matter how striking their resemblance to the set of every small-town-America movie in the world, ready to be broken down and disposed of to make room for the next.
The phenomenon was always made worse by how little Tango actually entered the town despite living 12 miles down the road from it. Its existence was just close enough to feel, parsable from the air like the scent of rain off asphalt, and simultaneously far enough to be alien to him, made all that much weirder by its small town charm, suffocatingly mundane and unconditionally normal. No strings, no contingencies, no Christmas dinners interrupted by last minute covert missions to foreign embassies. 
There were string-lights hanging between the lamp-posts, it was cute. Tango felt unbelievably itchy. 
The comm in his ear crackled. “How ya doing up there, Legacy?” 
Skizz sounded like he was enjoying himself entirely too much. It made Tango grumble a little under his breath, not caring if it was loud enough for the comm to pick up or not. Maybe if he was lucky, the others would attribute it to static. 
Or maybe they’d attribute it to Etho, giving he whined back, “I hate that code name.”
“Okay, Prodigy.” Tango cut in, knowing Etho would hate that one equally as much if not more. What could he say, he gets bitchier when he’s grumpy, and wandering around in the cold stuck in the state of perpetually failing his first CoveOps mission was certainly doing it for him. 
“Tang—”
Maybe he went a little too hard, though, if he got Etho to break protocol and use his real name over what technically counted as a confidential communications outlet. Oops.
“Tango,” Impulse interrupted—not overly-peeved enough at his friend to use his real name, just equally as hopeless when it came to CoveOps to the point he likely forgot they were supposed to be using code names in the first place. “Where are you, I lost you again.” 
Tango didn’t have to turn around and face the direction he’d last seen Impulse to be able to picture the frown that he absolutely wore. Besides, that would give up his cover, and staying hidden—unmemorable, ignorable, unnoticeable, any of those were fine—was just about the only field trait Tango had. 
“Over by the bank, Impy.”
“Well, wave your arms or something.”
Tango nodded at an old lady who was walking down the sidewalk in the opposite direction of him, glaring like they were in a store and Tango was sweating carrying too large and heavy a bag as he suspiciously made his way toward the door. She glared harder at his attempt of being polite and turned her head away as they passed one another by. Tango just really couldn’t get enough of that small town charm. 
When she was behind him he dropped the grin and responded, “That kind of defeats the purpose, now doesn’t it?” 
What could’ve been a break of static but was probably Impulse groaning cut through the comm and Tango winced. At least he was good at getting passed by, he imagined Impulse was failing to do even that at the moment. “Well, how am I supposed to follow you following Doc if—”
“He’s flipping,” Etho cut in, and Tango didn’t glance to the left at the park where Doc—their certifiably batshit insane countries of the world professor—was currently using every trick he’d ever been taught on how to lose a tail; not that he knew he was being tailed, he was just that vigilant. Constantly. Cause that was how every normal and well-adjusted person lived their life. 
Instead, Tango kept walking the way he’d been going, stopped to look both directions before crossing the street, approached the closest vendor and bought himself the first thing on the menu without stopping to look at what it was. 
Why on Earth Professor Beef thought the best way to ease them into the field of Covert Operations was to assign them to tail their most paranoid and least sane staff member was beyond him. He could imagine what Beef would say if Tango dared question this decision of his out loud: well you don’t have to get it, you just have to do it. Yipee, he was so glad to be taking this course. 
He couldn’t look for Doc, so he looked for Etho instead. He scanned the street, the sidewalk—hell, even the rooftops—but there was no sign of him. He was that good. 
Show-off, Tango thought as the vendor whistled to get his attention and he turned back with a smile and a thanks accepting a corndog. Nice. 
Tango headed off again, this time towards the park, the direction Doc had been going in, presumably, before he’d flipped. He saw Skizz amidst a sea of letterman jackets, smiling and laughing and miming throwing something with his hands; the crowd he’d accrued laughed with him, boys of all shapes and sizes slapping each other on the arm and guffawing over a guy they would all swear later that they’d had to have had a class with at some point. 
Their methods were different, but it was undeniable—mission one, and Skizz and Etho were good at this. They’d all known they would be. 
Tango wandered around for a while longer, ate his corndog and listened to the chatter of his fellow operatives over the comms, always keeping their updates on Doc’s position in mind and staying busy as he steered clear enough as to not get noticed but close enough he could keep his options open should an opportunity arise. 
In theory, the mission was simple: what soft drink did Professor Doc like to drink with his funnel cake at the Hermitville fall carnival? In practice, it was a lot harder than it looked. They’d all been students of Doc’s for almost 5 years, and while this meant they might know him well enough to predict his patterns in what was maybe a reasonable way, it also meant he knew them well enough to call out their first and last name if he spotted them—and to skip the questioning portion of the interrogation in favor of going directly into doling out detentions. 
This was their professor who used a trusted—and highly confidential—surgeon to give him a new face before the start of every school year for the sake of avoiding some long list of threats still interested in apprehending him that he constantly alludes to but never explains. And Beef wanted them to tail him. It’s not like they had any chance to succeed. And Tango was missing Below Deck for this.
The carnival was beginning to thin out, slowly, by the time anything interesting had begun to happen—at least to Tango. The square had one of those large metal things that looked like a lamp-post but actually had a giant clock in the center, and based on the last time he’d seen it and his impeccable internal clock, it could only be nine-fifteen p.m. It was like this place couldn’t get any more boring if it tried. Tango couldn’t stand it. Tango was jealous. 
He was cutting through the alley behind the town’s lonely diner, heading towards Skizz’s last known location, and was about to throw a line out over the almost eerily empty silence of his comm when Skizz spoke first. Something about the sound of his voice nagged at Tango, and it occurred to him before he opened his mouth to respond that he’d heard Skizz speak out loud, not directly in his ear. 
A second later, and it wasn’t just Skizz. At the first raise of Doc’s voice, Tango stopped walking and leaned as hard as he could into the brick. “I don’t even want to know how you got out and—actually, how did you get out?”
Tango only spent a moment questioning whether or not he was about to make a mistake before he leaned towards the edge of the alley until he could get enough of a picture of what was going on. Doc’s back was to him—thank god—but Skizz and Impulse were done for, the two of them sitting on a bench before their increasingly irate professor. Skizz was at his most diplomatic, sitting still and face severe with the kind of look that said I am listening to you and I understand. Impulse was cringing so hard at the having-been-caught that his left eye looked swollen shut.
Skizz raised one of his hands to halt Doc’s tirade—a risky move, but if anyone could pull it off it was Skizz. “Professor, if you’d just let me explain—”
“Explain what!” Tango winced with his friends in solidarity, even though he wasn’t the one getting reamed. “You’ve been following me for thirty minutes, which means you have to be—wait,” Doc said, as if a thought had suddenly occurred to him. “Wait a minute—where’s Beef?”
Tango watched as Skizz and Impulse—spies in training, yes, but still teenage boys at heart—shared a look with each other that gave away exactly what Doc needed to know. Skizz said: “Why I don’t know what you could mean, Professor, we were just—”
“Oh you—” From behind, Tango watched Doc shake his head to cut Skizz off, and then he did something kind of miraculous: he turned and tossed something—something shining and made of brown glass, something suspiciously bottle shaped—into the closest trash can. “Go on, now. Back, back to where you came from.” 
Tango stared at the garbage that couldn’t be more than twenty feet from him, even as Doc herded two of his best friends off of the bench and on into the night, the vague direction of the mansion; in his peripheral Skizz turned to glance at Doc and open his mouth, one more attempt at reason, before Doc departed one more and I’ll be giving you an extra credit assignment to really complain about. 
Tango honestly wasn’t even sure they were out of sight by the time he left the wall and the relative safety of the alleyway, not even considering the risk as somewhere inside he reeled at the thought it couldn't possibly be this easy. As he crossed the street, half of him expected to get scruffed by the back of his shirt and dragged all the way to his dorm, the other half expected to look inside and find the bottle to already be gone, even though his eyes hadn’t left the can, and for Etho to wander out of some shadow with it already in his hand. But the street was blessedly, amazingly quiet the whole time Tango made his way over. 
The garbage can was mostly empty even though the town had just had a carnival—because of course it was, towns like this probably didn’t produce any trash at all, Tango should’ve goddamn known—meaning Tango had to brace one of his arms on the lip of the metal can and hop slightly with his other arm outstretched to grab the bottle and pull it safely out of the trash. 
The condensation had made the paper labeling start to peel away in places, but the brand was still, for the most part, entirely legible—their mission was complete, and by Tango no less. He couldn’t wait to get back and rub it in Etho’s face. 
Tango tossed the bottle in the air and caught it, mood turning around for the first time all night—not even the 12 mile walk home in the dark could daunt him now. 
He turned around to begin his trek and found himself instead frozen immediately to the spot. 
There was a boy. 
Across the street, paused in the middle of the sidewalk and staring right at him, was a boy. And he’d seen Tango. 
Tango, whose only natural talent in CoveOps was going unnoticed. Tango, whose codename was cipher, after a joke Impulse made about his tendency for hiding in plain sight. Tango, who’d just rooted around in the garbage for someone else’s trash. 
The boy stopped to look both ways before crossing the street, even though it was now almost 9:30 pm and seemingly passed town curfew by how empty it’d gotten. There were no cars by sight nor by sound on this road or any of the surrounding blocks, but the boy looked to his right, then his left, then his right again before stepping off the concrete and onto the asphalt. There was even a moment of pause when his foot touched down on the road, and a slight furrow to his brow that had Tango imagining him thinking but there’s no crosswalk here! 
A better spy might’ve done something else—found the closest out, used the perfect excuse or expertly timed joke—but Tango just stood there, and watched the boy approach. 
“Hi there,” he said, a slight Virginia twang to his words that really drove home the all-American look about him, the swoopy blonde hair and lithe but athletic build—perfect for winning throws at football games or moral-gathering posters of government propaganda. 
“Do you….dig through trash cans often?” The prom king illusion shattered immediately as the boy cringed and shook his head, descriptive adjectives like polished becoming more awkward, perfect turning into endearing. “No—that sounded rude, I’m so sorry, I meant it as more of a joke, really…an unfunny one, I guess.” The rounder part of his cheeks pooled, filled deeply with blush. 
Tango opened his mouth, unsure what he planned to say, but then the boy went, “Oh my gosh, not that I judge that—or, well, maybe a little. But I—I’m sorry, and I shouldn’t, that’s wrong and, and—“ he paused abruptly, his head clearly moving faster than his mouth, the level of disaster that was this conversation running away from him and seeming far worse than it was when it’d started. 
“There are nicer trash cans, even,” He said when he opened his mouth again, and Tango nearly lost his mind, turned his laugh into a cough and wondered if all exceedingly normal people were so…cute. “Closer to the center of town. I can…show you where those are instead, if you prefer?” 
Tango couldn’t help his smirk. “You offering to take me on a tour of the nicer trash cans in town?” 
“I—“ Tango watched the boy's face buffer as all the things he just said caught up to him, and he looked down, bashful. After a moment, he smoothed out the embarrassment like wrinkles on fresh sheets and looked back up at Tango confidence renewed. “That or a milkshake, maybe?” 
The boat had stopped rocking, they’d made it to solid land, and the conversation righted itself and worked its way towards something normal—or at least, what Tango thought normal was supposed to look like. He’d never been asked something so simple as would he like to get a milkshake with a cute and utterly mundane boy. 
Things that Tango most definitely was not. His cover, on the other hand…
Right, his cover. In a logical and completely sane move, Tango blurted out, “I have a cat.” 
The boy blinked a blink that pushed his whole head back an inch from its force. “Ex…cuse me?” 
“I have a cat,” Tango repeated, begging his brain to fill him in on the rest of the reasoning behind why he said this particular thing at this particular moment. Were cats deathly allergic to milkshakes, or something? Well, screw his imaginary cat, Tango wasn’t! 
He said: “She…likes to play with bottles. I kinda grab them whenever I can.”
“Etho!” He added, and then mentally slapped himself upside the head. This was precisely why he wasn’t supposed to be anywhere near field work. “That’s my cat’s name, yup! Mhm, so, I’d take you up on that, but—“
“But you have to get back to your cat?” The boy said, his cheek bunched under one of his eyes like he wanted to believe that but had heard one-too-many a ridiculous excuse before and wasn’t quite sure. 
“Exactly.” Tango let out a breath. Jesus Christmas this was hard—where the hell was Skizz when Tango needed him? Oh, right. This was not at all how the night was supposed to go.
Conversation lapsed, but Tango failed to notice his opportunity for an out. The spy in him knew deep down that this was his chance to leave, to apologize for the lack of a milkshake and laugh off the fumble that was their interaction and begin his long walk back to school, knowing by the time the boy god home he’d forget all about having met Tango at all; the teenager in him stared at the freckle at the inner corner of the boys left eye. 
“Sorry, you’re new around here, aren’t you?” 
Tango continued staring. This was the third time the boy had apologized. 
“What makes you say that?”
“I’ve lived here…all my life?” His voice lilted higher at the end, almost like he was posing a question rather than making his case. “Everyone here has lived here all their life and I’ve…never seen you before.”
Tango has too, in a way. Home was a complicated concept for a spy; he may not be one yet, but his parents were—he knew enough to understand. It wasn’t like his childhood went untouched from the transient nature of spy work, a suitcase and go-bag always ready by the door. Even if he was the one being left and not the one doing the leaving, Tango knew flexible, he knew inconsistent. 
For years his most stable constant had been school, his mom in the headmasters office, Skizz Impulse and Etho. Where was home but here? 
He couldn’t say that, that wasn’t the cover. After years of being told I’ll be back soon with no indication of when soon was and little clarification of back from where and absolutely zero certainty that was something that could be promised, Tango resented lying. He wasn’t meant to be forming covers—he was meant to be locked in a lab somewhere, but one term of CoveOps at the start of sophomore year was a requirement. A requirement Tango would have to get through. 
Tango had never seen the boy before either. He didn’t know how to respond. 
“But, hey, I guess I’ll be seeing you around? At school?”
“No!”
The word was short and sweet, one syllable, something if the rampant apologizing was any indication the boy had not insignificant experience hearing. But his head tilted on the axis of his chin, lilting higher into the air and away from the middle of his chest—the dog that thought it’d heard a word it knew and was trying to determine if it was of the good or bad variety. “…No?”
Tango cringed. Probably visibly. “I’m…homeschooled,” was the lie, this time. 
“Oh, alright,” Tango hoped the drop in his tone was disappointment and not disbelief. He hoped the boy blessedly naive of the ways Tango was being false and not incorrectly assuming him indifferent to their chance encounter. 
Unwilling to bet on the chance and deeply reluctant to do what he knew a good spy should—remembering too many holidays gone remiss, and birthdays of the ill-get-you-next-year variety—Tango said, “I’ll be around, though.” 
The boy brightened, one of those artificial lamps that mimics sunlight where sunlight doesn’t reach, from darkness to light in mere seconds—like it was simple, easy. Ill so readily forgotten. 
“Good,” the word was delivered with an amicable nod. “Better get home to Etho, then.”
There was a moment of pause as Tango prepared to exclaim Etho?!? Suddenly in fear that he’d somehow found the one normal boy who wasn’t normal at all and was actually some sort of enemy spy, Tango accidentally blubbering his way through giving up national secrets he didn’t even know he knew—and then he remembered what he named his fake cat. 
“Right! Etho, yes…right, gotta get back to,” —had he given his fake cat pronouns?!— “yup! Okay, bye then.” 
Tango turned with great effort, his eyes shut and the rational part of his brain begging him to get a grip, his hands clasped tightly around the slightly icky with condensation bottle of soda that he’d come here to claim and by some miracle had. He hadn’t gotten more than a step or two away before the boy called, “Hey, what’s your name?” 
And Tango made possibly the stupidest decision of the night—despite all the competition, that’s pretty impressive, he knows—and called back, “Tango.”
“It was nice to meet you Tango!”
Tango smiled over his shoulder at the boy, walking backwards down the road he’d been so cautious to cross before, wanton joy on his face and something Tango didn’t dare to name, hands in his pockets. “You too,” Tango laughed. 
“My name’s Jimmy, by the way!”
The comm in his ear crackled to life after too long staying suspiciously silent before Tango could do anything about that, and he heard what he knew to be Etho saying, “Cipher, meet me at the corner of Pine and Cherry.” 
The sobering bucket of ice water dumped on your head after a particularly rough all-nighter, Tango felt his nerves wake up one by one; his spine was suddenly straighter and everything a little more on edge than it’d been a few minutes ago. He resisted the urge to scan the roofs and the streets and the shadows. He ignored the shame that said he just got caught doing something he shouldn’t have been; he kind of already knew that, but something in him also wished this had just been for him. Bye Jimmy, Tango thought in reply before saying, “Yeah man, on my way.”
Forget milkshakes and normal boys, Tango had some bragging to do. Other than to resent lying, if there was anything being the child of spies taught him, it was how to mask disappointment. 
He turned the corner toward Etho without looking back. 
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