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gremlingottoosilly · 4 months

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The Horror and The Wild (yan!Emperor!Konig x fem!Reader) COD Fantasy AU

You decided to visit Konig's harem. Turns out, they like you as much as the emperor himself. Tags and TWs: Dub-con, aphrodisiacs, power imbalance, breeding kink, size difference, age difference(Konig in his forties, Reader in her twenties), medieval/fantasy AU, Konig is a pervert AND an evil dictator

Word count: 3274 AO3

Your husband has a harem. It didn’t bother you as much as you thought it would – he is the emperor, after all. You’d be more concerned and surprised if he didn’t have an army of perfect women lust all over him – catering to his every whim, to every last one of his perverted desires. You read about kings having harems in books – you think that the king of your country had at least a dozen mistresses, although none of them were an official part of the court. Empire is a bit different in its customs – every territory in its big hold wanted to give the sole ruler their greatest treasure, so the politics could be ensured through maidenhood of their daughters. — Little empress is so shy…is this her first time with an angel?

A woman – you think her name was Stiletto, or something equally sharp – was holding you tightly, her breasts against yours, her hips straddling yours in hold that didn’t make you feel unpleasant. If anything, you loved it. Reminded you of the sessions you shared with the Princess. Something that had to be hidden far, far away. — I would r…I think we should discuss, ah, the further fate of the… She holds you close, her lips on your neck. You whimper, looking back only to see König in a relaxed pose, drinking something – you don’t think it was wine, way too golden for anything like this – out of the transparent, beautifully sculpted goblet. For some foolish reason, none of the women in his harem were particularly interested in him – but you counted at least four who already proposed to make your night better.

It made you feel ecstatic.

It made you feel shy. You came to the forbidden part of the palace, the one that almost no one is visiting – with the goal to drag at least a few of the servants by their hair, thinking that it would just ensure that you won’t be poisoned later. You came here expecting to be assassinated by some lovestruck princess – but you were kissed, held, and touched by many of them. Your legs already spread wide enough to reveal the edges of the thin laces of your undergarments, your emperor enjoying the show as the women of his harem made a blubbering mess out of you.

— Are my women not treating you well enough, little princess?

— Y…your Highness, this is… You whimper, feeling a soft hand on your breast. König was there too – his palm enveloping your chin, gently tilting it so he could kiss you, your face hidden by the fabric of his hood slowly lowering over you. His kisses are softer now, much warmer than they were before – maybe, finally stealing your virtue prompted him to be softer. Maybe, he knew you wouldn’t be running away or trying to kill yourself anymore – so he was able to share with you the softness he previously kept hidden. Maybe, he was always soft and you just never got to see it – but now you can’t help but stare at his softness, taking in every last inch of it. You feel like a fool, honestly.

There are beautiful women touching you, whispering sweet nothing to you. There is a beautiful man who is devoted to you completely – who burned down an entire castle and took your country just so he would be able to marry you. Yes, with all of these people – powerful, beautiful, angels and gods walking on this sinful earth, you still felt like a servant. Dirt under their boots – the indoctrination of your class is making it impossible to think of yourself as someone who is worthy of even the tiniest bit of praise.

You think about your princess – if she is alive or not. If she remembers your sacrifice or curses you for it. The news of your wedding should have spread far and wide, even with the little notice that König gave to the bordering kingdoms – and you wonder what would her reaction be. You are getting too far ahead of yourself, after all, You should know your place by now, all things considered.

König and the girls – you think one of them was the duchess, send here as a peace offering only to be held up in the lower harem, with the Emperor only seeing her for one time and then retreating back to his chambers – only let go of your when you started sniffling, an action so freakingly ugly for an empress. You should never show your true emotions – you knew this even from your years with the princess, with other servants being as cruel as devils while she wasn’t looking. Perhaps, you still haven’t outgrown this mentality.

— What’s wrong, meine Liebe?

— You’re disturbing the Empress, your highness.

— I am her husband!

— Maybe, this is why she is disturbed. Are you ignoring her needs too, Your Majesty?

— I will nit be ridiculed by my…

— Oh, but please, do proceed, our lord. The princess is crying already.

— You scared her!

— Maybe, she didn’t want to be married. You could send her to harem and make her like us… — And to have you, vile creatures, fuck her till she passes out? — At least we could show you pleasure. Maybe, she’s on edge because Your Highness was…

— I won’t be talking to you about it!

— Ah, but the Empresses’s distress is evident already, our lord. Do we need to cast a potion for your…

You feel their hands on you again, soft touches mixing with rough fingers caressing your face – your cheeks, your lips, passing into your mouth and making you suck for the tiniest bit of a second, leaving right when you started to feel uncomfortable. You feel loved, so thoroughly, by him and by them – and you don’t feel like you deserve to be.

You can’t find a real reason to talk to them – so you do your best to shut up, biting your lips that were smeared with makeup so thoroughly. You felt awful, you felt horrible, you felt like you were going to freaking burst because, by gods, there are so many people around you who deserve to be treated as kindly as possible, who deserve to be treated like equals – and yet, you still feel like a servant. Like a bought pet who was dragged to the house where no one wanted to see you and to hold you – and yet, there are so many people, longing to just… You sigh, curling up in a corner. Distasteful display from an empress – but you could worry about assassins and court intrigues the other day. You don’t have the strength to play in the games of these vile women anyway. Not that you would be able to even if you’d want.

— Meine Liebe, please, you must protect your dignity over those…

— I’m sorry.

— What?

Hands are gripping you tighter, suffocating. You shouldn’t mistake their devotion for kindness, their affection for liability. No matter your cries and pleads, they won’t let you go – and even the girls who looked the kindest, the ones who already got your dresses collected and your hair in elaborate constructions, with their soft hands running up and down your breasts, your hips, your rear – were nothing more but a pack of people who used to get what they wanted. And you shouldn’t think that your opinion would matter – but you could close your eyes and think about your country. Close your eyes and try to enjoy it if only for a little while.

— I’m not…not fitting as a queen.

One of the girls plummets on your lap, her hair spreading across the floor. You start to pet her out of pure instinct – and you can feel König’s hand in your hair, doing the same. Somehow, the tiniest act made you feel even more like a pet and less like a person with power. Maybe, because you never had power to begin with.

— Of course not. You’re an empress, not a… You gulp, worry still in your mind. You are surrounded by people who should look up at you – and yet, you feel like a pet, brought to them for amusement. Then it strikes you – then it falls down to your shoulders, heavier than the crown you never wanted to wear.

A consort empress – no power, no influence, just smile and wave to your people in a pathetic attempt to remind them that you exist. You exist, you exist, for their amusement, for your husband’s amusement, to make the crowd wild with promises of heirs, to make everyone forget what exactly you are doing here. That your job as an empress is to sit back and look pretty, hoping that it would be enough. That it needs to be enough.

— Am I? Seems more like a toy for everyone.

They laugh – they smile and push their hands on you again, surrounding you with swirls of touches and gentle pushes. Back and forth, back and forth. You feel like a fool falling for something as silly as this – being consumed by lust of not just your husband, but also the women who, by all means, are supposed to take you in and leave nothing behind. You were supposed to swirl around in cort intrigues, not in… A hand moves down your stomach, fluttering just above your labia. Dancing on the gentle skin, caressing in a tingling motion – you moan and spread your legs depsite yourself, despite the feeling of apathy slowly growing in your bones. Your body got so used to constant pleasure, it makes you crave it like the last whore in the whole empire. You aren’t sure who is touching you – but you know that König is nearby, his hand tilting your head to the side, so he could look. Enjoy the view – god, you must look like such a mess right now… — The consort is a toy for the whole Empire, Schatzen. You knew this when you agreed to marry me.

— You never asked my hand properly, Your Highness.

— Why would I need to, if I could just chop it off and bring it with me?

You gulp, thinking again – gods, your choice in marriage is as horrible as the legends say. Especially since there are no legends of him yet – his rise to power is too fast and too early – and since you never had a choice on the matter anyway. Since there is no way you could have escaped this.

— Would you like it, then? To kill me for spare parts?

He laughs, and the others followsuit. You feel weird – you don’t understand them, their reactions, you feel like your head is going to burst from all the emotions being contained deep inside. You take a deep breathe and think. Trying desperately not to seem insane. — This would be a waste of a perfectly fine princess.

— She’s an empress now, your highness.

— Oh, but she will be a princess to us, ja? They giggle – and you feel dragged to the other room, finally alone. Not as much as you linked to be – König is still there, his hands are keeping you in place firmly. Fingers playing with the edges of your outfit, you feel somewhat sated and drained already. Your maidenhood throbs between your legs, soaked and warm from the touches and nice words of the women of his harem – and you feel weird, knowing that he allowed this infidelity to happen on his watch. At least you knew he never touched a single one of these women, although they were gifted to him. At least you know that he is ready to throw you in for the wolves in order to satisfy you while he is away doing everything an evil ruler should.

He lets you sit on a chair, pulling you in his lap – an intimate position, the outline of his cock is poking at the outline of your rear even through the skirts of the dress you wore. He pushes his face in the crook of your neck and you feel the tingling sensation of his tongue outlining your skin. You don’t want him to make you even warmer, to play with you more than all of his harem did – but it’s a welcomed distraction. You still feel like an imposter who never deserved to even be here in the first place…

— You do realize that you not being a princess doesn’t matter, right, Schatzi?

He cocks your head to the side, making you look at him wide-eyed, surprised. You are pressed against his chest, your face dangerously close to his – you want to get as far away from him as possible, but he whispers in your neck like it’s a gospel. You’re inclined to listen.

You don’t answer – you just let him keep going because, in the end, this is what a good empress is supposed to do, you think. Sit tight and listen and listen and use all of the space in your head to get into theirs. You feel like a fool even trying to attempt this, but…you never listened to the stories about your husband before he came into your life – and now you’re fabulously undereducated on the matters of his life.

König’s hands are going up, into your cleavage – almost ripping your corset open and not caring for how expensive it was. He has a terrible habit of running every pretty thing he buys for you – and you bite your tongue as to no scold him for leaving your breasts out, the diamonds and ripped seams on full display. You feel like a fool, knowing just how inappropriate he is with you. And how you allow him to do it.

— I would never accept that stuck-up royal of yours as mine. As a part of the harem, maybe. To forget about her bloody existence.

You bite your lips, a scowl escaping your expression. You don’t want to act like this, but she was still your princess – whenever she is now, if not dead and forgotten even by her own people.

— Don’t…don’t speak of Her Majesty like this.

— What a loyal servant you are, meine Liebe. Why not put that loyalty to me?

— Do you also need help with wearing your own clothes and warming your jewels?

— Maybe. If I get to feel your hands on me each time you do it.

You feel your cheeks burning. Your teeth are clenching, your hands and gripping your skirt, almost ripping the delicate material to shreds. Oh no – you’re getting used to a rich life, not even caring for your own clothes and how expensive it would be to replace them. König kisses your forehead, laughing, and your entire face and neck are burning now – the expression of his affection always makes you embarrassed, even if this is, by far, the most innocent thing he did to you. Much more pure than…no, if you’d start thinking about it, the space between your thighs would be wet again – and you already established just how sinful it would be.

— You are making it look like I have to worry about every maid who swings her skirt around you.

— Hm. I don’t think that my maids are half as cute as you.

— So you went to steal maids from other countries?

He chuckles, holding your chin in an iron grasp. You can’t turn away and save your graces when he is taking his mask down, smiling like a cat who got the cream. Perhaps, he is just like a cat – a ginger one, arrogant and smug, with rare stubble grazing over your sensitive skin as he plants a sloppy kiss on your lips. He is hungry, devouring you with each stroke of his tongue – the literature made you think that those kinds of embraces should be gentle, slow. You know better now, of course.

— I knew I needed a wife. People won’t take lightly to their emperor being more and more involved with dark powers – I thought that maybe, having a people-pleasing empress would make a difference.

He pinches your nipples until they are nice and firm, almost bruising your soft breasts in his hands. He is trying to handle them gently, but he is unable to contain his excitement – and you feel your lower parts clenching around nothing, moisture collecting in your undergarments. König isn’t soft when he is handling you like this, the overwhelming pleasure is risking to make itself known to everyone – by gods, you are tired of always getting handled like this. Like just an afterthought in his perverted desires…but, perhaps, you are just that.

— It was stupid. I sent the first letter, then the second…and this entitled brat didn’t even bother to answer. I knew she wouldn’t – but it still stings.

You remember the letters. Remember the annoyed voice of your princess, as she told you to handle them – burn them, toss them away, rip them to shreds, and feed them to the birds passing by. Everyone knew that the emperor already had a harem, and your princess didn’t want to be a part of it – besides, the king already established no connections to the empire, even as it was creeping to his doorstep.

You also remember writing the answers. Polite ones, short ones – the types that wouldn’t involve you in a political ploy. Leaving the emperor without an answer would be even worse than proclaiming war – wounding a man’s pride is something, that your princess knew how to do well, and also a thing that you knew how to take care of. Always the one to clean up her messes.

— I knew it wasn’t her writing those answers. But I remember how they felt, in my hands. The smells of whatever fragrance you put, ja?

You also remember accidentally cutting yourself while writing one of the answers – ink mixing with blood on expensive paper, made you think twice instead of changing the paper piece to a new one. Perhaps, if you were truly smarter than that, you’d just toss it away. Unfortunately for you and the kingdom, you didn’t want to waste expensive, fragrant paper.

— So…you’re saying that…

— It’s your fault, Meine Liebe, really. I fell in love with you since the first word you have written for me. So why would you cry in front of me and my harem like that?

— You’re lowering yourself like this. Being on my level…not something fit for an emperor.

He laughs, his fingers returning to gently squeeze your nipples together – and then go high, to push your face in place again. König plants another kiss on your lips and dips, his tongue playing over one of your swollen nipples. You don’t want to think about how much your body will change when his seed is going to take – but you know it won’t be long, with how often he pushes himself between your legs, filling you up until you can’t walk anymore.

— You know nothing about me, do you, Schatz?

— Thought you wanted it that way.

— Public won’t take nice to a ruler like me. Not a drop of royal blood.

You don’t think you knew the stories about him. The rumors, maybe – calling him the bastard king, the one that killed the previous ruler of his country in a soldier’s uprising. It’s all being taken down now, with all the old rich families either getting wiped out or signing their loyalty to the new emperor. The books are being burned and written anew.

— We’re both servants, little princess. And I would never someone born into this uptight fucking family.

Hm. A bastard emperor and a fake princess.

You really were made for each other.

#cod #konig x reader #konig #yandere konig #cod x reader #yandere cod #call of duty #cod x you #emperor!konig #konig cod #konig x you #cod konig #yandere imagines #yandere x reader #yandere male #yandere x you

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queenshelby · 10 months

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Yes! Mr Murphy (Rewritten)

PART 14: A CALL FROM NINA

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Angst, Age Gap, Teacher x Student, Fluff

Note: This is just a cute little fluffy telephone call transcript between Cillian and his daughter Nina in this fic...

Cillian: "Hi Sweetheart, how are you?"

Nina: "Pretty good. I am actually just calling to let you know that Max and I will see you on Sunday evening for Grandma's birthday. Mum said we can come but you need to pick us up. We can stay with you until Tuesday mum said"

Cillian: "Really? That's awesome. I can't wait to see you"

Nina: "Me too. You know, we have this new dance teacher. Her name is Y/N. I am not sure if mum has told you or not"

Cillian: "No she hasn't, but do you like her?"

Nina: "Yes, she is super cool. She is really funny and she’s such a good dancer. She even has a couple of tattoos. I just don't think mum likes her"

Cillian: “Really? Why didn’t she like her?”

Nina: “I don’t know. Mum said that she is too young and doesn’t know what she is doing”

Cillian [chuckles]: “Right! You had fun though?”

Nina: "Yes, so much fun [pauses]...Did I tell you about her tattoos?”

Cillian: “You did”

Nina: “Can I get one?”

Cillian: “A tattoo?”

Nina: “Yes”

Cillian [sternly]: “No”

Nina [begging]: “How about a piercing?”

Cillian [sternly]: “No! I already got in trouble with your mother when I let you have your ears pierced”

Nina [firmly]: “I am almost 13 dad!”

Cillian [chuckles]: "I know but I won't let you have any tattoos or piercings until you are 18 and I am sure neither will your mother”

Nina: “You are so uncool”

Cillian [laughs]: "I know. Your brother reminds me of that all the time"

Nina: "I have to go now. Dinner is ready. Love you"

Cillian: "I love you too sweetheart"

To be continued…

Please comment and engage. I love getting comments and predictions pretty please!

Tag List

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#cillian murphy #cillian murphy fanfic #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy x y/n

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lisbeth-kk · 10 days

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May Prompts

Today's prompt: hobby

The Luckiest Girl in the World (chapter 8)

Summary: A rebuke turns into something Rosie had only dared to hope for.

Eight Years Old

Dad and Papa, well, to be fair, mostly Dad, had a stern talk with me in the aftermath of my performance in the school play where I told the tale of The Tipsy Burglar that occurred a half year earlier. I had kept it a secret from them, which I knew was a bit not good, but I thought they’d be pleased that I put Papa in the spotlight of that particular case, even if he was nowhere near London at the time. It turned out they weren’t.

“Your choice of title is…” Papa began.

“Sherlock,” Dad said in a tone that told both Papa and me that this was not the time for humour.

Dad cleared his throat and began his lecture, asking me to keep quiet until he was finished.

“We both appreciate that you love speaking about us and dramatize a little about Papa’s work.”

He sent a warning glare in Papa’s direction when he wanted to protest that it wasn’t just Papa’s work, but Dad’s too, when he wasn’t at his actual job as a doctor.

“What we don’t fancy, is your changed personality of late. You’ve become cocky, using Papa’s fame to your benefit, to become a more interesting person, and that is just not on. You should be proud of who you are. In the long run, you’ll end up with no audience or true friends if you continue down this road. It is you who matter, not who your family is, alright?”

Dad looked pointedly at me to see if I understood what he was trying to convey. I nodded.

“Good. We have a proposition for you. It has come up earlier as well, but back then we thought you were too young for this hobby, or…”

I couldn’t keep my mouth shut any longer, because those last words could only mean one thing.

“You mean martial arts?” I asked hopefully.

A deep chuckle from Papa confirmed my deduction, and I threw myself into Dad’s arms.

“I promise I’ll be good, and I won’t be such a…”

“Alright, best not finish that sentence,” Dad said mock serious.

***

Both my fathers had experience in this area. Sort of, anyway. Papa from fencing, Dad from rugby and the combat training when he was in the army.

I was euphoric by the prospect, but still a bit irked after the rebuke, so when two options were suggested, I obviously chose a third one.

“Taekwondo or kickboxing?” Papa asked expectantly.

“Neither,” I said defiantly, but regretted my tone immediately when Dad spoke my name in thatvoice.

“Watson,” Papa prompted, his tone also a bit harsh.

“Sorry,” I said. “Jiu jitsu. Please, let me.”

“I think that can be arranged,” Dad said. “You’ll learn self-defence, respect and humbleness as well as self-esteem. Not sure you need more of the latter, though.”

That elicited another chuckle from Papa. Dad turned to him, cocking an eyebrow, but the mirth on his face ruined is effort to look disapproving.

***

A week later, my martial art career started. Papa had wanted to fully equip me with the correct clothes, mouthguard, gloves and shin guards, but Dad suggested that we postponed the shopping spree until we were certain what was required. The web site had said that I only needed to show up in whatever clothes I found comfortable, so I chose tights and a t-shirt in a breathing material.

When we arrived in the dojo, I learned to bow every time I entered and departed. A sign of respect for the room where the training was executed.

“No socks,” the trainer told us when several of the children skidded around on the mats.

The trainer wore a crisp white costume, called a Gi, and her black belt had three golden stripes, her name, and Japanese signs embroidered on it.

“I am Sensei Ida. Inside this dojo, you’ll address me as Sensei. Understood?”

“Yes, Sensei,” we said in more or less unison.

When the session was over, we promised our Sensei, that we would keep it up until we attained the black belt. Only two of us were successful at keeping that promise.

Also available on AO3

Tags in the replies.

#may prompts 2024 #may 8: hobby #sherlock fandom #rosie watson #sherlock #john watson #johnlock #bbc sherlock #sherlock fanfic #ao3 fanfic

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coffeemakerwriter · 5 days

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GhostSoap playlist

TW’s: suicide, SA, death, depression, grief, abuse mentions, heavy angst with little to no fluff, may be ooc!! Heavy on soaps death!! Please proceed with caution and let me know if I miss any tags!

A/N: I prefer light and fluffy stuff for ghost and soap but :)) I thought this would be fun! I don’t really have any angsty headcanons for them but I kinda just wrote out my thoughts for this :) this is probs super out of character but that’s okay!

Wc: 1k woords!

Reckless driving by Lizzy mcalpaine and Ben Kessler:

I don’t exactly know why this fits, but it makes sense to me in a way, I think in the way that ghost and soap are both reckless, but ghost is reckless in the way he doesn’t care if he died, but I think in a way, he doesn’t want to take soap with him, and I think that’s frustrate soap, that ghost is so willing to risk his life for him that he’d go as far as to kill himself if it was needed. As long as it keeps soap alive.

The Gold - Phobe Bridgers version:

I think of this in the way after the soap's death ghost is different, ‘I don’t think I love you anymore, that gold mine changed you’? That feels like after Soap's death ghost someone says how different he is, closed off, ‘I don’t wanna be me anymore’ could be ghost agonizing on how he feels because of ghosts death and feels guilty about how he’s been acting since and fears it’s damaging his remaining relationships.

Cherry wine - live by Hozier:

Soap to ghost is a spitfire, loud and wild, hard to contain, harsh barks of laughter and his eyes light up at an ability to fight, but he loves when he’s calm too. “Her fight and fury is fiery Oh but she loves Like sleep to the freezing

Sweet and right and merciful I'm all but washed In the tide of her breathing” can be how soft soap is with ghost, how sweet he can be regardless of his bright and fiery personality. He would love him regardless if he was soft or harsh.

Born to die by Lana del rey:

Regardless of whatever timeline you look at, both of them are born to die, never actually destined to be together forever. Either they both die or one is ripped away. Neither get a happy ending.

Johnny boy by Twenty One pilots:

‘Get up Johnny boy’ can be ghost begging soap to get up, getting more and more distraught as he repeats it, the sickening realization that his pride and joy isn’t getting up, because his pride and joy is dead. ‘I will carry all your names, and I will carry all your shame’ can be ghost vowing in some way that even after his death he will make sure he means something, that his death didn’t go in vain and even with his faults and mistakes he will make sure Johnny will be carried on.

Army dreamers by Kate bush:

The entire song can be played on the fact that soap's body is being brought home, that his coffin is being home to his mother and sisters, how they wish he had chosen something else to do instead of being a soldier, an army dreamer. How he died so young, and how he’ll never make it past his 20’s. But even then, he’ll always be his mammy’s hero.

Not strong enough by boygenius:

I think this kinda deals with more so, ghosts grief with soaps death, how he feels empty and doesn’t know why he is the way he is after he dies. ‘Do you see us getting scraped off the pavement?’ Could be in allusion to the fact he thought about killing himself after soap's death, that in some way he felt like it was his fault soap died. And maybe the emptiness he feels going home to shared space, knowing that soap won’t be there anymore, knowing that he’s alone now. Knowing that he’s never coming home.

I bet on losing dogs by mitski

Ghost holding soaps body, cradling his head in his lap, his baby, he’s watching him die, holding his cold, lifeless body. He knew he wasn’t gonna live, how do you survive something like that? That’s a bet you can’t win. He knew he wouldn’t survive, so all he can do is hold him in his last moments and offer comfort in his last moments. Because either way he’s watching him die.

Savior complex by Phobe bridgers:

I think soap wants to help ghost get better, offer him a place of comfort, save him, but ghost isn’t all that open about things. Not his childhood, not roba, and sure as hell not his family. But soap wants to be there for him, show me yours show you mine? He’s willing to be vulnerable with him if only he’d be vulnerable too, soap thinks he will be, with time at least.

Sarah by Alex g:

I don’t really know how to explain this one either, just the fact I feel like ghost would feel like he’s in a dream, constantly seeing Johnny, seeing his face, hearing his voice, running to him, only for him to be woken up just before he can reach him. I feel like ghost would wait for him like a dog, despite knowing he’s gone, he’s not coming back, he still waits. Or atleast waits till he can join him.

All for us by labyrinth:

I feel like Johnny and ghost would do anything for eachother, they love each other so much that they would die for the other. They would risk their careers for each other if it came down to it. Genuinely I think they’d kill for the other if they had to, without a thought.

Feel better by Penelope Scott:

I think ghost found comfort in his unwellness after soap's death, a routine maybe, I think ghost agonized over it not only becaUse of just how close they were in general but because someone had actually loved him, loved him despite his flaws, his issues, despite everything they loved him. I think in a way, he thinks he’s incapable of being loved. But soap disproved that, and the fact that he loved him despite everything made it hurt even more.

Funeral by Phobe bridgers:

Imagine ghost talking at soap's funeral, going to the funeral of someone he cared so deeply about that he didn’t think would die so soon. Imagine him having to talk to his mother, comfort her and tell her how much her son meant to him. And how sometimes he wakes up from nightmares of johnny's death, only weeks after it happened, and how he just has this deep feeling of sadness and emptiness and he can’t help but wonder if it’ll always be like this.

I love you so by the Walter’s:

Imagine ghost seeing soap in a dream, begging soap to stay only for him to tell him he needs to let go, but he’s not ready to yet. He doesn’t want to let him go, he doesn’t want to forget him. He loves him. Why does he want him to forget? He doesn’t want to forget his smile, or the way his eyes crinkle when he laughs. He doesn’t want to forget any of it.

Freaks by Surf Curse:

I feel like ghost dreams about soap a lot after his death. And everytime he dreams of him he hopes he doesn’t wake up, either because he wants to stay with him just a little longer or because he hopes somehow he’ll die in his sleep, so he can finally be at peace.

We’ll never have sex by leith ross:

I feel like ghost has a fear of sexual intimacy or at least some anxiety around it. And he’s afraid that soap will want to initiate that sort of stuff with him, and he’s worried that soap will leave him when he finds out that he doesn’t like sex all that much, or that can make him uncomfortable at times. He's in therapy for sure, but that doesn’t make it completely go away. But I think Johnny would be understanding, willing to listen to him when he explains how sometimes it makes him uncomfortable. I don’t think Johnny would do anything to make ghost uncomfortable on purpose. I do think he’d make sure ghost is comfortable with anything sexual.

Mr. Loverman by Ricky Montgomery:

I think this is just mainly ghost missing Johnny, maybe drinking too much one night, agonizing on how much he misses him, what he could’ve done differently, and if he got there sooner, could he have saved him? Would he be sitting here beside him instead of in an urn?

Like real people do by Hozier:

I think this is just them learning to love, being soft with each other, about how they met, I don’t think soap would ask very many questions about ghosts' childhood, I think he’d figure out pretty early on that it wasn’t a good one. I think he’d let him speak about it when he was ready, when he felt safe to do so. I think in a way he’d feel a sad bitterness when he sees ghost exhibit behaviors he learned from his childhood, like walking quietly, doing things to please him when he got upset, things to make him happy. I think that’s when Johnny would connect the dots, that he didn’t have a good childhood. I think regardless of that though, Johnny would treat him with the care he deserves, and I think ghost would do the same too.

Nothings new by Rio Romeo:

I think ghost would settle in this emptiness that he felt like he could never get out of, this never ending feeling that nothing will ever change, that he will always feel empty now that soap is dead.

Sunlight by Hozier:

I think soap and ghost do make eachother happy, that they work well together as a couple, that they have boundaries that are good and they communicate well. Soap his ghosts sunlight and he’d die on that hill. Soap means everything to ghost and soap is the same way with him. I feel like they make eachother better as people and learn to better themselves for the other. Because they WANT to make their relationship work.

J’s lullaby (darlin’ I’d wait for you) by Delaney Bailey:

I think in a way, ghost will always wait for soap to come back, he’s always gonna hope for him to come through their front door after a deployment, and curl himself into his side and rest their for the rest of the night. Logically he knows that won’t happen, but he’d give anything for it to. Because he’d do anything for his Johnny.

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donationwayne · 2 months

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Fuck It Friday

i noticed everyone is mostly doing spicy clips this fuck it friday but i haven't written any buddie smut yet so i hope everyone enjoys a snippet from my upcoming army!eddie fic coming up. It will also be my first multi-chapter fic! (this is from my first draft so if you see any typos please ignore lmaoooo)

i was tagged by @daffi-990 !!!!

Buck and Eddie moved to LA w/ Chris, shortly after Eddie was deployed overseas again. Buck is navigating raising their son on his own in a new state while working a new job and starting at the 118. Things get dicey when Eddie goes MIA overseas.

“Hey Bobby, I hate to ask this, but my Abuela broke her hip while she was watching my son. Would I be able to pick him up from the hospital? His Tia will have her hands full caring for my Abuela.” Bobby blinked at Buck, stupefied. “Your son?” Buck gave the three of them a sheepish smile, turning shy eyes on Chimney and Hen, who were staring at Buck slack-jaw. "Sorry, can you repeat that?” Chimney asked, pretending to clean out his ear with a tinge of sarcasm and shock. “I, yeah—his name is Chris. He’s 7. I’m sorry I never said anything sooner—we were still just trying to settle in. It was a huge change for us to move out here. And on top of that, I didn’t know…” “You didn’t know what it would be like here.” Hen stated. She picked up on the implication behind the half spoken thought easily. In the years since Bobby took over, the crew had grown so much closer, all wound together in one giant, occasionally dysfunctional, family. Even more so, once Athena and Bobby started dating about a year after she and Michael had officially separated. Buck wouldn’t just be introducing himself to a new family, but his son was, which was certainly intimidating. Terrifying even when it was so clear that Buck had some serious self-esteem issues. He was terrified of rejection, and adding an extra party to the equation complicated everything that much more. Buck shrugged and smiled sheepishly. “I never expected LA to become home so fast. Before I really settled in here at the station, I just wanted to be sure it was going to work before I completely committed. I needed to leave my options open in case the hours didn’t work with taking care of him. Texas and LA are extremely different environments, and even though we’d been here through my training, I still wasn’t sure if we’d find a good school.” Buck shakes his head. “I’m sorry I didn’t mention anything sooner, but we just weren’t ready.” “But you’re ready now?” Bobby asked, his expression both unreadable and soft. “Yeah,” Buck glances at the three of them flushing a little. “I really think I am.” “Wait, you’re a Texas boy?” Chim grimaces like he can’t connect the dots to Buck. Buck laughs at his befuddled expression. “Not exactly. I was born and raised in Hershey, Pennsylvania. I ended up in Texas after some traveling.” “Traveling? How did you travel with a whole ass, kid? Aren’t you only like 25?” Buck laughed while watching them struggle with the math of it all. “It's a long story.” One that he was not ready to tell, one that he would not be ready to tell until Eddie was back stateside. Until he was safe in Buck’s arms. “Well, if you want to bring him back here, you’re more than welcome to,” Bobby offered, squeezing Buck’s shoulder comfortingly. “Thank you, Bobby, and I promise this won’t be a regular occurrence.” Buck started to babble. “It's alright, Buck, now go get your son.” Bobby soothed.

I feel like a lot of people have already posted today but if anyone wants to do this who has, tag me so I can see your fic!!!!

#911 #911 abc #buddie #buddie fanfic #buddie wip #911 fic #evan buckley #army!eddie #aubs rambles #fuck it friday

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multimilfs · 1 year

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Lilith x Fem!Reader: Second Chances

Summary: Lilith + 19 — “You did what?”

Prompts found here!

A/N: I haven't written for Lilith in a long time or watched CAOS in even longer, so if I faltered on her characterization, I apologize! I did my best to keep it within the bounds of her character

Full Ficmas List

Tag List: @escapetodreamworld @multifandomfix @ghostsunderstoodmysoul

Warning(s): Slight NSFW

Sabrina saw you.

Rushing away from the scene, you are quick to make sure no one else can see you. You weave through the masses of students effortlessly. No heads turn as you pass. Throwing a glance over your shoulder, you see Sabrina search the crowds, no doubt coming up empty, before shaking her head.

You only relax when she turns and walks up the stairs to her next class. You don’t relax much, though; you still have to tell Lilith.

Dread builds with every step towards Wardwell’s—now Lilith’s—office. She trusted you to take care of this and you let yourself be seen. You’re not even sure how it happened. One second Sabrina is in a crowd of her friends, the next her eyes are locked right on you with growing horror.

It was almost comical, if you think about it.

Knowing how you’re going to upset Lilith though, you have other things to worry about; like how many years she’s going to bury you in the deepest pits of Hell for failing.

You arrive outside of her office and take a deep breath. Lilith loves you, for all intents and purposes, but being loved in her way isn’t like loving anyone else. She’ll go easy on your punishment, but you will be punished.

Knocking, you wait.

Her voice filters through the door, “Come in.”

You open the door and slip in. Her eyes find you in an instant, vanishing charm or no; she can always find you. It both warms your heart and spikes your blood pressure.

“Darling,” She says, the term a sultry drawl, her eyes narrowing, “What’s happened?”

“Lilith, my Goddess…”

Her eyes go hard at your tone. Her voice is cold, “What’s happened?”

“I was seen.” You admit, wincing.

Lilith had been standing, hands on the desk as she leans forward, only to pause. She tilts her head and looks at you for a long moment. You can feel your heart beating a mile a minute and threatening to shoot from your chest. It’s so hard you can almost swear she can hear it.

Her head turns and she looks away, eyes darting this way and that. She’s thinking hard about something. That isn’t good, you know; she’s likely deciding how to kill you and send you back to Hell until she gets there. It’s not Hell you mind as much as being without her.

You start talking before you can stop yourself, “I was following Sabrina and her friends in the hall. I don’t know what happened, but I must have dropped my cover on accident—”

“You did what?”

“Lilith, please. You know I wouldn’t fail you on purpose.”

“You don’t have accidents, darling,” Lilith says cuttingly, “That’s why I gave you this job. You don’t fail.”

“I won’t. It was just a brief moment and then she couldn’t see me. I swear, let me make this up to you.”

You fall to your knees in front of her as she crosses around to the front of the desk. Her brows raise slightly, but she only watches you. Usually you’re not so dramatic as this. It’s rare you fall to your knees without her command first, it’s even rarer for you to beg. You’re strong and fierce… except when it comes to your Goddess.

She has an army of demons and twisted creations to enact these duties for her. Any of them would have answered her call. But she gave you the opportunity; you, the twisted little witch, the one she’s kept at her side and away from the grit of Hell’s chores until now. She could’ve chosen any of them and she chose you.

If you admit defeat, you fear she’ll never choose you again.

You’ve never failed her when you were just there to entertain her. You can’t fail her now, when it matters. If you do, who is to say you’re really worthy of the love she shows you?

“Have I ever given second chances before?” She asks.

Her voice is cold, but she runs fingers through your hair. It’s always astounded you how someone born of hell can chill you to the bone.

You shake your head, “No. Not while I’ve been with you.”

“No.” Lilith echoes, confirming your answer, “What makes you think I’d give you one?”

Looking up and blinking the shame from your eyes, you try to summon your usual fierceness. Lilith’s lips twitch into an amused smirk.

“Because I love you.”

Something in her posture softens. It’s slow and barely noticeable, but you notice everything about Lilith, even if sometimes you don’t want to.

Her hand comes to settle on your cheek. Holding you in place, she absorbs the vision, soft eyes filled with interest. You want to know what thoughts race behind her eyes. Mary’s eyes. Her eyes now; you think everything about this body suits her beautifully, captures every detail of her soul and displays it perfectly for your eyes to see. It’s even better than the last one.

“If you slip again, I’ll let Stolas feast on your eyes.” Lilith says.

Hope and love fill you in equal measure. Your face breaks into a bright smile and you turn your head, kissing the palm of the hand she settled on your cheek. She laughs breathlessly.

“I won’t fail.”

Lilith nods, “Good.”

Leaning over and capturing your face in her hands, she pulls your lips to her own. She’s rough and demanding. Your lips are only there to serve her, like the rest of you. And you love it.

Her teeth pull at your bottom lip and break the skin. When drops of blood hit her tongue, she moans against you, sweeping the digit along your lip in search of more. A whimper leaves your lips. She swallows it down, smothering it, her sounds drowning out your own. You almost worry that it’ll reach someone outside.

Then she pulls away. You whimper at the loss of her heat, but she tuts, shaking her head. Moving back and sitting in one of her chairs, she almost smiles.

“Since you’re already on your knees, make yourself useful, will you?”

#lilith #madam satan #lilith x reader #caos #lilith caos #madam satan x reader #lilith caos imagine #madam satan imagine #chilling adventures of sabrina #chilling adventures of sabrina imagine #wlw #wlw imagine #dec2022 #multimilfswritings #multimilfsficmas2022

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disdaidal · 18 days

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I was tagged by @sunwarmed-ash for

WIP TUESDAY

To the Moon and Back Final Fantasy VII ◆ Cloud/Zack Omegaverse, Slow Burn, Angst, Romance, Explicit

(chapter 3 preview)

“You okay?” Aerith asked. Searching for him with her big, pretty, green eyes. Zack paused. Bright blue eyes cast down, he bit his lower lip pensively. He wouldn't say he was completely fine. However, he knew Aerith could read him like an open book, and he didn't want to worry her. Lifting his head, Zack gave a quick shrug and offered her a saccharine smile. “I’m fiiine. Don't worry your pretty little head about it. ” Aerith squinted her eyes. Her lips were set in a thin line. “You know, I don't think that's the kind of thing you want to say to me, Zack.” Zack heaved an exaggerated sigh and tilted his head. She could be so dramatic at times, but so could he. "So... how about a big, beautiful brain, then?" He offered as his lips curled into a lazy grin. Aerith put her hands on her hips. “Cheap flattery won’t work with me, mister.” Looking as petulant as ever. Zack erupted in bright, vibrant laughter. Hooking one firm arm around her petite figure, he drew her closer and promptly kissed the crown of her head. “Come on now, princess. Cut me some slack, will you? I’m gonna be late for work.” Aerith slackened in his embrace, feeling warm and well-protected against her friend's tall, lean body. “You know I don’t like to be called that.” She still persisted, huffing in mock anger. Zack chuckled, and with a gentle tug, led them ahead. “Well, like it or not, I'll always think of you as a princess. Coming from me, that's like, a huge compliment.” “Coming from you, huh? Like you don’t say that to every pretty girl you meet!” “Now you’re just being mean.” “Because you're a flirt, Zack. I know you tried to slither under my girlfriend’s skirt long before you found out she’s with me and while I don’t actually blame you for that, I—“ Their playful banter went on for a few good minutes until they finally reached the spot near the orphanage where Zack's army green bike came into sight. It stood there scratchless and virtually unblemished—no signs of foul play. Zack grabbed the helmet and handed it to Aerith, who graciously accepted it.

Tagging some writer lovelies: @astaldis @silvermoon-scrolls @tantumuna @lovebillyhargrove @lazybakerart @ihni @suometar @andordean @assortedfruitsnacks212 and whoever else wants to take this! As usual, no pressure to take this, even if you were tagged. <3

#wip tuesday #tag games #i got tagged #thank you <333 #my writing #zakkura #clack #cloud x zack #zack x cloud #ffvii fic #ff7 fic #final fantasy #ffvii #ff7

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misspearly1 · 1 year

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Surprise!

4. Him (AGAIN)

Letter four of The Surprise Writing Game

(Please check masterlist for more info).

Pairing: Franciso Morales x Fem. Reader

Word Count: 519

Warnings: Pregnancy. Frankie being nervous. Fluff.

Banner made by @toomanystoriessolittletime

Him

Bubbles,

Dios mio! My hands are shaking right now. The pictures mean everything to me. I can’t stop staring at our baby… Wow. I’ll never get over how that sounds. Our baby. I’m excited, but nervous, you know? I don’t want to let you down. I won’t let you down.

I’m sorry I made you cry. I wish I was there to wipe the tears, although they’re happy tears, I still wish to be there to wipe them and hold you and your bump. I wish I could see you and see our baby growing in your belly with my own eyes. Soon. Hopefully soon.

They’re still reviewing my request to leave, but I only have seven more days out here before I’m back on base. I should have an answer by then. (I really hope they say yes). Your letter took longer to reach me this time, it’s a little chaotic out here, but don’t worry, I’m safe. I’m not allowed to give details, but all I can say is that we hit a bump in the road, hence why your letter took longer to find me.

Mierda. Listen to me, talking about myself. I didn’t even think to ask. How is the pregnancy treating you? Bean isn’t giving you too much of a hard time, is she? I hope not, but if you need anything - and I mean anything - please don’t hesitate to call mi mama. She will be there for you, and yes, she will stock up your fridge whether you asked for it or not (I would get used to that too by the way).

Also, to answer your question about the army reading our letters, they can and they will if they’re suspicious of the contents, but they would ask me to open the letter in front of them. And since no one has asked me to open your letters in front of them, we’re good, mi amor. Shit, is that too soon to say?

I can’t wait to hear your voice again, Bubbles. I want to see you. I don’t have a pen pal, but I have my laptop on base, and we can facetime. I’d really love to see your face again. I have all these pictures of our baby, but none of you.

I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but I think about you every night. I think about your eyes, especially the way they looked that night in Dukes, and your smile, your laugh, or the little mini skirt you wore (I think about more intimate things too). I think about everything, about all the details from that night and how I want more.

So, my answer is yes. I want you and Bean. With all my heart, I want both of you.

Yours truly,

Francisco.

Ps: I think Bean is catching on real fast. Maybe that could be our name for her. You know, something that only we call her? But as for her real name, I like the Mia, which also means ‘mine’ in Spanish. I like this because she’s ours, Bubbles.

Tagging @scorpio-marionette for the next part.

Writing Game Tag List:

@supernaturalgirl20 // @scorpio-marionette // @misspearly1 // @kybitchcrystal // @boliv-jenta // @prolix-yuy // @meandorla // @quica-quica-quica // @absurdthirst

#writing game #Surprise! Writing game #Frankie Morales x Fem. Reader #pedro pascal characters #frankie morales fanfiction #pregnancy fic

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xchoxix · 8 months

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Shuri Angst HCS

It’s been long enough, and I haven’t feed y’all with anything😭 so here are just some silly HCs I thought of, I honestly enjoy angst very gery much. Even though im not really supposed to. I just feel like there isn’t that many stories or HCs that talk about what she’d do when T’Challa passed. And I honestly lowkey like reading angst, there’s just something about it😮‍💨 but yea Lmk if y’all want a part 2!

Mentions‼️: SH, attempts of suicide, depression, eating disorder, ADHD (not sure if I missed anything else)

Tags gng: @neptoons1998 @s0lam3y @mal-urameshi

(Most of these are connected which would most likely be under it or would be somewhere!)

-After T’Challas death she took sleeping pills because without she’d end up laying thinking about him. She also tried to take them when her mother died. But they don’t work due to the herb.

-would draw T’Challa all the time, and even thought about tattooing a sketch she did of him on herself

-T’Challa always smelled good, so when shuri found a shirt that she had stolen from T’Challa, she began to cry uncontrollably because it didn’t smell like him anymore

-shuri began to isolate herself so everything could hurt a lot less. Especially after her mothers death.

-After Ramonda told she T’Challa passed Shuri ran to the table and shouted out at him. Telling him to wake up, but was held back by 5 Dora’s including Ayo and Okoye because she was “disturbing” his peace.

-When Shuri began to think less of brother she slowly forgot what he looked like.

-Never got to say a finale goodbye to T’Challa

-Locked only herself in her lab for an entire month with no food or water as a form of punishment

-Every day for the month Okoye, Ayo, Aneka, M’baku, and the Dora army would try to open her lab

- Once they were able to open it they found her on the ground on the verge of death. She was very skinny and lacked a lot of sleep and energy.

-Everytime someone would try to get her to talk about her feelings she’d blast her music till they sounded on mute

-One of the main reasons why she made earrings, was to be able to ignore people with her music

- Her last words to T’Challa was “Shut up! Can you stop apologizing and saying that I can’t do anything anymore? You’re not going to die, I won’t let you!”

-Everytime Aneka found her having a breakdown she’d called the lab and told griot to lock it for the day so she’d grief properly

-but she would always find a way to go to her lab

-Hallucinated about T’Challa during the day in her lab, and would do the talking for him. She’d often do their handshake that they’d do

-Her lab members would look at eachother knowing that itd be best if they left. Because it would normally end off with Shuri realizing he wasn’t there and she’d get mad

- Always always had eye bags even before his death but it wouldn’t be as noticeable till he did pass away. From afar you could be able to see them, and would think that they weighed a ton.

-Because Shuri would always pull pranks on T’Challa, he’d return them but they’d be a little too much. So when she was shouting out to him on the table, she shouted out “Get up, I don’t like this prank. Please”

- Would make the things T’Challa would ask her even if they were dumb like a some figurines T’Challa liked from movies.

- Sometimes while working if she’s in a bad mood she would often break her pencils or supplies due to the grip/strength she would hold them at

- She left Nakia short, but harsh and cold voicemails the first 2 times she tried reaching out to her. And would ignore the other voicemails

- Sometimes for the fun of it she’d answer the calls and would quickly end it

- Changed her wardrobe because T’Challa really liked Shuri’s style (it was a mix of American style and his style) but at the end she just dressed up likeT’Challa.

- Completely destroyed the outfit that we saw at the beginning of BPWF because it reminded her that it was her fault for his death

- Always late at events because she’d spend so much time in her lab she’d forget what day it was

- She would yell at everyone if they bothered her or reminded her to eat while she was working

- Had mood swings

- She would often fidget with her pen or anything she had near her.

- Would randomly get the most horrifying sickening nightmares or visions/flashbacks about T’Challa. And would act like nothing ever happened

- every time she’d try to sleep she always get nightmares

- Some nightmare,vision/ flashbacks she’d be most afraid was 1. Her being T’Challa’s lifeless body on the table with her screaming to to wake up. 2nd, Falling in pitch black and she’d be surrounded by everyone blaming her for not saving T’challa. 3rd, Her having the best percentage of the herb to save him, but before she could make her to him, there was something keeping her away from giving it to him so she watched him die

- Had sleep paralysis for the first time. It happened during the dream where she’d be T’Challa on the table lifeless while seeing herself shouting at him

- Her sleep paralysis demon would be her family(including Nakia, Okoye, M’baku, Ayo, and Angela) mumbling about how she was a failure

- Tried unaliving her self countless times but was either caught or stopped herself thinking that what would everyone feel like after she did. And how would she help Wakanda from invaders

- she survived her first and last attempt but was caught on her other attempts

- She would SH. And would use raw vibranium to burn herself. So she has burn marks from raw vibranium and scars all over her body

-She skipped her meals every day so Ramonda would watch Shuri eat or send Okoye or Aneka or Ayo to do it

- She would often freeze and begin to uncontrollably shake while having visions when she’d remember T’Challa in some type of way.

—

Live, laugh, love, Angst🫶💕

If you wanna be tagged in my next projects also lmk!

Hopefully y’all don’t hate me after this🌚🌝

#black panther #shuri #letitia wright #shuri udaku #shuri angst #okoye #aneka x ayo #black panter wakanda forever #queen romonda #m’baku #t’challa #nakia black panther #riri black panther #livelaughloveangst

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anonnie-in-wonderland · 2 years

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Call Me Crazy…

Rating: T

Word Count: 4.8k

Warning(s): None

Summary: When Y/N gets her hands on the newest Samsung phone, she thinks at most she’ll get a little clout with her friends and fewer dropped calls. A direct portal to BTS? Not so much.

Tags: bts x reader | ot7 x reader | poly| FM!POC!reader

Ch.1: In Which a New Phone is Long Overdue

A/N: This idea was inspired by this commercial, which I immediately thought would be a good fic idea the moment I first saw it! Just never assumed I’d be the one writing it, so I guess I played myself…anyway, this fic starts in 2019 and is not “canon compliant” (I think I’m using that right). I personally see this Y/N as a POC due to the girl in the commercial this AU is based off. I think she was really cute haha that being said, you don’t have to imagine the commercial actress ofc. Uh, and Y/N is not really an Army at first, sorry. Just thought it’d be more interesting that way. *PLEASE do not ask about the taglist in this story’s comments*

“I can make it better, I can hold you tighter…”

Y/N breezed right by the girls passionately singing along to the latest BTS hit in the hallway. Classes had just ended and caffeine was calling her name. That test prep was a doozy and really, she should definitely—fish the buzzing phone out of her jacket pocket, apparently. If she could even locate it. Why did she adore multiple pockets so much in her outerwear anyway?

Her fingers seized the small device just before it went to voicemail, and she barely glimpsed at the ID before accepting the call. “Hey, heeey,” Binna sang, her good mood evident, “That physiology test? Nailed it!” Y/N smiled, knowing how much her roommate had been stressing that exam, despite studying nonstop for weeks in advance.

Stopping, Y/N tucked herself into a corner of the corridor, out of the way of her fellow students. The tall arched windows provided an unobstructed view of the campus’ sprawling lawn, and the students congregating on it. “I wouldn’t expect anything less from my bestie’s big brain.”

“Try saying that three times fast,” Binna laughed. “How’d your business presentation thingy go?”

Y/N cleared her throat, trying to sound serious, but secretly endeared by Binna. “It’s a supply chain management project. I won’t know how I did until the end of the term, but it’s coming together really well so far.”

“Ohh then are some celebratory drinks at the cafe in order?!”

Y/N dramatically clutched her chest, probably looking like she belonged in the theatre program to the people passing by. “I thought you’d never as—”

“…N?” Binna’s voice began to crackle, fading in and out. “Hel..lo? Y…?”

Gasping indignantly, Y/N took the phone away from her ear to glare at it. “Oh, no you don’t.” Reflexively, she smacked the bottom a few times, momentarily forgetting that would do absolutely nothing for failing reception.

“I’m losing signal!” She hurried to explain, “Text you soon!”

The sound her friend made came across as agreement, more or less, so Y/N hung up with a sigh. Her fingers skimmed the tiny, worn keyboard, prepared to attempt a short confirmation to meet at the cafe.

“Still not ready to give up on that dinosaur?”

Y/N jumped, halfheartedly glaring at the owner of the voice, who didn’t look the least bit apologetic for startling her. Rather, Chung Chin-Mae arched a brow, face blank as he waited for her to respond. “When are you going to cut that out?” She hissed, smoothing a hand down her already wrinkle-free blazer.

“When are you going to give up on that phone?” He returned, taking a delicate sip of his vitamin water. Y/N’s glare became a little harder, lip jutting out in defiance. He knew she hated when someone answered a question with another question. But she let him have it…this time.

“Why would I?” Y/N briefly clutched her phone to her chest defensively, ignoring the way Chin-Mae just shook his head. Returning to trying to get her text through, she added, “There’s nothing wrong with it…”

Her friend looked ready to swing his messenger bag at her—and given that it was always full and on the heavy side, that was bound to leave a bruise. “How many other people do you know still using a flip phone that outdated? It’s not even a touchscreen!”

“But it does the same thing!” Y/N grumbled, mentally crossing her fingers that the text didn’t freeze and delete itself. ‘Please, not while Chin-Mae’s here.’

They stood in awkward silence for over a minute, and she lowered her head, knowing the expression he’d be wearing. “It just does it a little slower…” For all his love of being right, Chung Chin-Mae (affectionately Chinnie to his friends) could have made an excellent lawyer, but his heart belonged to the arts. His interesting taste in strangely patterned button-ups and the streak of deep red dyed in his short, black hair were the only real outward indicators.

“How many years?” he asked.

“Huh?” Y/N distractedly watched her text finally finish sending, a little grin of victory on her lips.

“How many years since you got a new phone?” He clarified.

“Oh, um…eight.”

“Eight? Y/N…girl…” Chin-Mae looked like he was struggling to find the words, absolutely aghast, and she rolled her eyes. Yes, there was that flair for the dramatic she’d expect from a performing arts major.

Checking her math, she nodded, “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

Leaning into her personal space so that she could smell the freshness of his gum, he whispered, “Repeat after me: I will get an upgrade!”

“Only if it becomes absolutely necessary.” she countered.

“It’s past necessary; you might as well be dragging an entire phone booth around with you.”

“Haha…” Y/N chortled drily. “Anyway, aren’t you a long way from the art studio. Did you come to meet me?”

Huffing, Chin-Mae squared his shoulders, looking thoroughly exasperated. Though his next words confirmed it wasn’t at her. “I came to drop off Yè’s report to him. He’d be flunking that class if it wasn’t for me,”

That made sense, considering how forgetful her upperclassmen could be. Brilliant, but oh so forgetful. “You realize you’re dating now. It’s okay to call him Min Su.”

“Old habits,” Chin-Mae dismissively flapped a hand at her, not sounding too concerned.

‘Poor Min Su.’ she thought. He had been smitten with Chin-Mae practically since their first meeting, when the clumsy transferee had bumped into her friend and caused him to drop a still wet painting while trying to search for the right building.

Needless to say, Chin-Mae had declared war on the guy. He had never been the most forgiving to begin with, and man could he hold a grudge. Y/N winced as she recalled the way he hadn’t spoken to his roommate for just over a month after he ate Chin’s pudding snack.

So the odds certainly were not in Min Su’s favor. Chin-Mae remained icy towards him even after he tried to make it right by lending a hand so he could redo the ruined painting in time to submit to his art showcase by the deadline. She and Binna had watched (and silently rooted for Min Su) from the sidelines for the better part of their freshman and sophomore years. Eventually his kindness and persistence won Chin-Mae over…not that he ever really wanted to say he had caught feelings somewhere along the line. And now, they were finally dating. But Chinnie was only really slightly less reserved with his affections. At least in public.

“Anyway. My boyfriend is hopeless. What else is new?” He asked rhetorically, breaking her from her reminiscence. “Do you need a ride to the cafe or what?”

Y/N thought over the benefits of catching a free ride while her friend was in a gracious mood, or waiting on the shuttle. “I guess I could—”

“If you have to think about it, you don’t know. So let me decide for you…” He pulled out his keys and pushed at her shoulder, ushering her out of the corner and through the lecture hall. “You’re coming with me.”

Well, Y/N shrugged, if Chin-Mae had spoken…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Umm…” Y/N watched Binna bouncing in place, tongue poking out in concentration as she attempted to make up her mind. Luckily, the cafe worker looked more amused than irritated, but then her friend had that effect on people. Something about her quick smiles and the bright eyeshadow she typically wore made her youthful, energetic and approachable, along with the fun hairstyles she loved to wear when she wasn’t in a professional setting.

She was pure warmth, and destined to become an amazing pediatrician, if Y/N had anything to say about it. “Should I get an iced americano?” She asked no one in particular, “Oh wait, but it’s been forever since I had any boba. That’d hit the spot right now too…”

Normally, the campus cafe was packed, people chugging coffee in anticipation of a long class, or stopping to have a quick bite because they couldn’t be bothered to leave campus or cook for themselves (though it was far from the only choice). It was a welcome surprise not to be standing knee-deep in a line nearly out the door, everyone inside already sitting and enjoying their orders.

That meant at least they wouldn’t get nasty stares for holding up the line. As Binna continued deliberating, Y/N began envisioning the moment she’d take the first blissful sip of her own caffeinated delight.

Unlike her friends, who often switched up their orders, Y/N preferred what was tried and true: cafè au lait with skim milk and a half a teaspoon of sugar. A small fingertip poked her shoulder. “…do you think?” Y/N blinked, cocking her head as she tried to figure out what she was being asked.

Something about what drink Binna should have, right? “Uh…since you like mixing it up, what about something you’ve never had before?”

Her round eyes instantly brightened, turning to the barista with a confident grin. “Ohh, what’s on your limited edition menu right now?”

The barista shared a proud look with her coworker, who had finished rinsing out mugs and happened to overhear the question. “We’re doing our artist-inspired drinks. This month it’s BTS, since they just released a new album.”

The minute the words were out of the young woman’s mouth, Y/N began silently counting down, only reaching three before Binna let out a loud squeal. She always got that way when she got the opportunity to chat about her k-pop obsession. “Oh my gosh, that’s so cool!” Eagerly lifting the little mascot attached to her backpack by a keychain, Binna gushed, “You know, I’m actually Army.”

That she was. She had the poster on her side of their room to prove it, and lots of merchandise on her desk and bookshelf. It was practically the only reason Y/N knew anything about BTS (or any other popular groups) to begin with, and her knowledge was less than that of a casual fan.

She could view a photograph or billboard advertisement and recognize she was gazing at the group of superstars who had captivated Binna and half the world. But if asked to pick them out individually and correctly name them…well, hopefully it wouldn’t be a life or death situation, because Y/N didn’t like her odds.

The next few minutes were spent with Binna and the cafe employees talking about the new album, their favorite tracks, leaving Y/N totally lost. While she was glad to see her friend having so much fun, she could really use that caffeine pick-me-up right about now. Maybe tuning into that telepathic link they always joked about having, Binna gasped, her lipgloss even shinier under the cafe’s atmosphere lighting. “Wait, oh no, you haven’t even gotten to order yet, have you? I’m so sorry. I’m terrible, your drink’s on me!”

Y/N smiled gently as her friend began to ramble about how awful she had been to make her wait for the last fifteen minutes, rubbing her shoulder in reassurance. But she wasn’t exactly about to turn down a free drink. Chinnie, who had opted not to tag along seeing as how he had a class coming up soon, was going to be sorry he missed out on being treated.

“I’ll take a…”

Binna interrupted her with a giggle, her cute little nose twitching. “Should I just order for you? I mean, I know what you’re having because it’s always the same thing. Every time. She wants a cafè au lait, skim milk and a half a teaspoon of sugar please.”

Y/N knew her friend’s cheerful declaration wasn’t in any way mean-spirited. It just wasn’t in her nature to be. She honestly couldn’t explain why that rankled her. Was it that deep down, she feared she was overly predictable?

“That’s not true…” she muttered, aiming to prove it. “I can change it up too. I’ll also take something off the limited edition menu…” She had missed what Binna ordered, so she ended with a shrug. “You can surprise me.”

The barista, whose tag read, “Minjun”, nodded eagerly. “You got it. Coming right up!”

Assuming they would wait off to the side, Y/N shuffled down the counter, only to catch Binna staring at her, wide-eyed. Today her eyes were rimmed in a nude eyeshadow, applied with an expert hand as always. “Okay, just say it.”

“You…” Binna glanced around as she moved her hands, “You picked something besides your usual!”

“It’s not that big of a deal…”

“Yes it is. For you, it is. You’re all about schedules and routines and…and sameness.”

Y/N felt her cheeks puffing, and hurried to calm herself. “Look, everyone gets tired of things being the same sometimes. I’m not that dull.” If her voice came out just a little snappish, Binna didn’t remark on it. The speedy service was a small blessing, their drinks being slid down to them as Minjun called out their orders.

Y/N squinted as she read the side of her cup, more specifically the label. Jimin’s Jumping Jubilation.

Binna silently motioned to a table, her eyes nonverbally apologizing in case her comment had upset her, and Y/N took the lead, playfully brushing her on the way over so she knew all was well. “So,” she said after taking a careful sip. “Jimin tastes a whole lot like coconut milk and dehydrated pineapple bits.”

Binna made a funny face, having finished taking a long sip of her Suga n’ Spice. The delayed snort was well worth getting slightly sprayed. Nothing about her friend looking anxious or down suited her. “Y/N!” Binna squealed, slapping at her from across the table. “You can’t just say that in public. People’ll think you read those dirty BTS fanfics.”

“They…have those?” She was well and truly clueless, and maybe it was for the best if it stayed that way. “You know what? Never mind.” Neither of them really seemed to mind the change of conversation, settling into their seats comfortably and watching the world go by outside. “Are you still going to the rugby game this weekend? Min Su and Chin invited me, but I’d feel like a third wheel on their date if you didn’t come.”

Binna’s cute manicured nails rapidly tapped both sides of her cup. “Oooh you know I’ll be there to keep you from third-wheeling.” she winked. “Plus, it’s KU’s biggest rival, right? That means Yonsei University boys.” Y/N cracked a grin as she watched Binna fan herself, pretending to swoon. “I thought you swore off boys at least until after finals.”

“I did!” She nodded expressively. “But there’s no harm in looking.”

“I guess there’s tha—”

“Eek, a bee! How’d it get in here?!” Her friend’s screech turned several heads, Binna trying to hop up from her side of the table and flailing just a bit to keep the buzzing insect at bay simultaneously. Y/N watched her arm strike the side of her mostly filled cup, the liquid splashing in slow motion…right over the ancient flip phone lying innocently on the table.

Realizing what she’d done, Binna stared down in horror. “Oops! Y/N I am soooo sorry! I swear I’m too klutzy to live, and you know I’ll make this right and get you a new one. You can have any color, just—”

“Bin,” Y/N held up a palm. “Breathe.”

Perhaps recognizing she had withheld a breath or two in the middle of her rambling, her friend took a deep inhale.

“I know you didn’t do it on purpose.” Though Y/N had a sinking feeling it would do very little good, she still attempted to dry off the phone with some napkins, able to see her reflection in the dark screen. “It was just…its time to go, I guess.”

Slowly lowering herself back into her chair, Binna stared down at the deceased cellular device, an errant giggle escaping. “Well now that you have to get a new phone, at least Chinnie won’t have a reason to keep bugging you about it?” she offered, looking entirely too cute to be mad at.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N cringed at her wet pant leg as she climbed from the passenger side of Chin-Mae’s car. If she’d known the day would end in rain, she would have worn rain boots, as much as they clashed with her business casual attire. It was a small miracle that she at least had an umbrella in her bag. Her friends huddled under and shared Binna’s, which featured a vaguely familiar pink bunny with a rather aggressively cocked eyebrow.

The bell above the door chimed as the trio shuffled into the phone store, which was nice and toasty to combat any would be draft from the rain. No one else was inside, only the quiet hum of the heat going filling the space. “Where do you think we should start looking?”

There were so many shiny models on display in different spots on the shop floor it was hard to know where to focus. No sooner had Binna asked than a Samsung employee popped up from the back room, a few boxes carefully balanced in his arms.

Glancing their way, the young man, who couldn’t be much older than them, gave a polite customer service smile. Y/N waited patiently as she set down the boxes on the counter near checkout then beelined straight to them, his name tag gleaming under the store lights.

“Uh-oh, someone needs a new phone, huh?” He sighed sympathetically.

“How’d you know?” Chin-Mae asked, hands tucked into his pockets. He was wearing Min Su’s favorite hoodie, which enveloped him quite well given the difference in their builds. Y/N found herself irrationally jealous, wishing briefly she had a boyfriend to steal warm, snuggly clothes from.

“I just thought it’s the most likely reason you’d come out in such nasty weather.” he explained. “This is the kind rainy evening that makes you want to get cozy somewhere.”

He wasn’t wrong, Y/N thought. What an intuitive salesman.

“It’s me,” she said, stepping forward and raising her hand. “I’m the one that needs the new phone.”

He hummed with a tilt of his head. “Ah, anything in mind?”

“Anything would be an improvement from that ugly old dinosaur she thought it was okay to keep for eight years.” Chin-Mae groaned. “It finally bit the dust today.”

“Actually, it was murdered.” Y/N corrected.

“I’m sorry!” Binna wailed, hiding her face guiltily.

“I certainly have to agree it was time for an upgrade.” The clerk whistled. “Eight years is quite a long time.” He began to walk, motioning for the group to follow as he looked over his shoulder. “I’m afraid I don’t have anything similar to what would’ve been on the market back then, even in our used phone selection, but I’ll do my best to find a suitable replacement for your baby.”

“Something simple that gets the job done.” Y/N piped up. “That’s all I need.”

“Please, tell her she doesn’t have to live like this!” Binna whined, clasping her hands together. “She can have style, high-tech features and efficiency.”

Exasperated, Y/N turned to glare at her friend. “Bin, I—”

“She’s right,” the salesman said, “I can get you all that. If you’re interested, of course.”

“She is.” Chin-Mae cut her off before she could so much as open her mouth. His grip on her shoulders was tight, almost like a warning…

Knowing that her friends weren’t about to relent, Y/N decided to cooperate and get it over with. She’d rip it off, like a bandage.

“I am.” She agreed, less than enthusiastically.

All three of them perked up, and Y/N had a feeling she was in for a long evening.

The clerk showed them various types of phones, rattling off their features with ease and even explaining how to navigate the touch screens. Y/N personally didn’t think she was that hopeless, but kept her mouth shut and let him finish each demonstration. Binna and Chin-Mae chimed in more than once, mentioning how impressed they were with this model or that and ushering her toward their personal picks.

Y/N wasn’t quite sure any of the ones they saw were right for her. ‘What happened to simple?’ she wondered. That concept had long since gone out the window it seemed.

“And this is the last one I have to show you.” The employee, who had told them to call him Suk-kyu, rounded yet another display. This one featured a line of phones in various colors, as sleek and fancy as all the rest. What caught Y/N’s attention was the flip design. Finally! An ode to the phones of yesteryear. “It’s the Galaxy Z!” Suk-kyu gushed, plucking one of the phones on the table from its resting place and carefully placing it in Y/N’s hands. “It’s got that old school design you like, but this baby is all new and cutting edge. Ask me what it does. It does it all!”

The man loved his job, that was for sure. It was either that or he got paid off commissions, because he was certainly making the hard sell. Suk-kyu let her see everything the phone could do. And true to his word, that was quite a lot. His eyes twinkled expectantly as Y/N deliberated over the seven colors it came in. “I think we have a winner!” he cheered, “Who’s your bias? That’s probably the best color to go with if you’re having trouble deciding.”

Y/N blinked, a pink phone in one hand and a purple phone in the other. “Who’s my…what?”

“Oh,” Binna chuckled, “There’s no need in bothering with that Suk-kyu. Y/N wouldn’t be interested in all that.”

“Interested in what?” Said girl asked quietly, beginning to feel like she was missing a vital piece of the conversation. The piece that made it make sense.

“Ah,” Suk-kyu rubbed his arm sheepishly. “I guess not everyone is. I just thought maybe you chose to get one of these phones because you’re a BTS fan. Most of the people who bought them have been. Actually we barely keep them in stock for long. This is the first time we’ve had all seven colors available since release day.”

“What’s with everyone and BTS today? What’s that got to do with the pho—”

Chin-Mae tapped her shoulder, pointing to direct her attention to one of the monitors mounted over their heads. Y/N gaped as she saw the famous boy band using the very same model of phone she was about to purchase in a commercial.

‘Of course,’ Y/N could have rolled her eyes. What product didn’t they endorse? ‘Okay, I guess it’s impressive from a business standpoint. I’ll give them that. It’s every company’s dream to find a brand ambassador with the golden touch that’ll keep the product flying off the shelves.’ As an aspiring businesswoman currently taking courses in product marketing and distribution, Y/N couldn’t deny they were something else.

“Uh…you know what? I think I’ll take this one after all.” She announced, ignoring Binna and Suk-kyu’s twin gasps of joy. “Just to try it out. If it’s good enough for BTS, I’m sure it’s good enough for a plain old business major like me.”

Seconds later, they watched the grown man skip to the back to retrieve the color she selected.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rubbing a knuckle over her eye, Y/N yawned, staring blearily at the time displayed on her new phone. Huh, almost midnight. Didn’t feel like it was that late…but then it might explain the heaviness of her eyes.

Binna was already tucked into bed and snoring quietly on the other side of the room, leaving Y/N up by herself, toying with the cellphone she hadn’t expected to become so invested in.

Hoisting herself off her mattress, the tired university student stretched, hearing the satisfying pop in her back as she crept toward the bathroom, phone loosely clutched in hand. She’d brush her teeth and then go to bed.

Tomorrow was a rare day off for her, so she had plenty of time to play with explore the phone’s features at her leisure. And, of course, get a leg up on her next assignment.

Y/N had always treated school like she intended to treat the business world, and no one survived in business unless they could always stay five steps ahead of everyone else.

Y/N shuffled completely into the girls’ shared bathroom, shutting the door almost all the way before she flipped on the light, hoping the tiny sliver didn’t disturb Binna.

Thinking it over, she scoffed at the notion. Yeah right, that girl slept like the dead. Someone could scream about a fire in the building and she’d just roll over.

Taking her electric toothbrush from the charger, Y/N rummaged under the sink, locating the small bag that contained her toiletries and squirting a little toothpaste on the brush’s head. She put the setting on a slow pace, always wanting to be sure she got every nook and crevice.

Running the brush everywhere inside her mouth, slow and methodical, Y/N hummed to a song she didn’t really remember. That helped her keep track of how long she needed to brush, even if the toothbrush had an automatic counter.

She had used a manual one for so many years, to do her own mental counting was simply force of habit. And she was nothing if not a creature of habit, according to most people who knew her. But, was that really such a bad thing? She never used to think so, but recently it felt like another way to call her bland.

Leaning down into the sink, Y/N spit, turning on the tap and gargling away the rest of the minty foam in her mouth. Satisfied, she spit again, splashing the cool water on her face and setting her toothbrush down. Patting her skin dry with a small towel, the young woman took a small sigh, raising her face to the mirror and expecting to see her tired reflection staring back.

Except for the fact that the person in the mirror did not have the right features to be her reflection. Hell, they didn’t even have the right gender!

Y/N’s eyes popped wide open, sleepiness dissolving in an instant at the equally shocked face of the man who was gazing back at her. His distractingly full lips were rimmed in white toothpaste, as if he had just finished brushing his own teeth. Light brown, almost tangerine-tinted hair hung messily into his dark eyes, which had enlarged to what had to be triple their normal size.

And his skin… it probably wasn’t the best time to be noticing, what with her clearly hallucinating and all, but he had to have the tightest pores. They were nonexistent, really. His skin was smooth and blemish free. There wasn’t much more of him she could see, save for the black t-shirt that hung from his impossibly wide shoulders, filling the rest of the space in the mirror.

It looked like he sucked in a breath at the same time she did, and Y/N finally stumbled back, unsure why she was seeing what she was. Blinking, she smacked both palms over her eyes and then opened them again, finding everything as it should be. The handsome man was gone, and she was alone with her reflection. All was right with the world.

Shaking her head, Y/N scurried from the bathroom and flipped off the light, trying not to drop her phone in the dark. Sleep. She needed sleep, and lots of it.

#bts fanfic #call me crazy #ot7 bangtan #ot7 x reader #yoongi x reader #namjoon x reader #seokjin x reader #hoseok x reader #jimin x reader #jungkook x reader #taehyung x reader #poc!reader

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toomanystoriessolittletime · 2 years

Text

Surprise!

One - Her

Letter One of The Surprise! Writing Game

(Please check Masterlist for more info)

Summary: Frankie gets a surprise letter overseas early into 18-month mission from you.

Pairing: Francisco Morales x fem. reader

Wordcount: 528

Warnings: unplanned pregnancy, talks about a One night stand, talks about condoms

her

Frankie…

I have been thinking about writing this letter for a while now.

I hope my name at least rang a bell for you and if it did I’m sure you’re surprised, maybe confused and a little bit disturbed that a random One Night Stand would find out how to contact you (By this point I hope you do remember me, if not… I hope you do remember what happened in the restroom of Duke’s in Orlando cause I very much do).

Anyway… There’s no easy way to say this but…. I’m pregnant.

And it’s yours.

I haven’t been with anyone else in a year before you and there was no one after you. I know we used a condom but as I was informed by my doctor it’s only 98% effective.(I feel like there should be a bigger warning on the package???) So I guess congratulations on your very potent sperm. That… sounded weird but hey, I’m pregnant so I get to be weird (at least that’s what I am telling myself).

I know this all sounds like a bad soap opera and I can 100% understand if you won’t believe it but it’s just what it is.

Now… I can understand if you have doubts or if you just don’t care but I wanted you to know that I am keeping it and that I’m currently at the beginning of my second trimester and that I am having a girl.

Even if you don’t want to be involved you deserve the right to know.

And I’m sure you have many more important things to care about wherever you are, but I had to tell you. And of course if you chose to be in the life of our daughter I am the last person to stand in the way of that.

From what I’ve learned about you while I was searching for a way to contact you, you seem like you care for the people in your life.

Bean is currently the size of an apple (according to google) and is doing very well. I only found out yesterday that it’s a girl and it finally gave me the motivation to write to you. I don’t really have anyone in my life to share those news with.

There’s an ultrasound picture attached from the last scan if you want to look at her.

I hope this letter won’t take long to reach you, the nice lady at the army office promised me to send it with urgency.

So yeah… That’s it.

I added my phone number and my email address is [email protected] (yes, I do love Dirty Dancing and I will not take any judgement, thank you) if you want to reach me, but no pressure.

Please stay safe wherever you are and thank you for everything that you do and... that you did..

And I don’t just mean what you do for this country, but what you did for me.

You don’t know it but I came out of a very long or more like only relationship that left me unsatisfied in many many ways and I think I had forgotten how it felt like to be… desired and free, maybe even a little loved and just… spontaneous. And you showed me that.

Take care and stay safe

Bubbles

Tagging @supernaturalgirl20 for the next part 💜

Writing Game Tag List:

@supernaturalgirl20 // @scorpio-marionette // @misspearly1 // @kybitchcrystal // @boliv-jenta // @prolix-yuy

#writing game #my fic #Frankie morales writing game #surprise! writing game #Frankie morales #francisco morales #Frankie morales x fem. reader #fanfiction #fanfic #fan fiction

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libraryofneith · 10 months

Text

Out of Mind - Chapter 7 (Joel Miller x Female Reader)

@hiroikegawa @evyiione

If anyone else wants to be the first to know when this fic is updated let me know and I’ll add you to the taglist!

Sorry for the wait but if it makes you feel any better, our plot is finally starting to pick up the pace. I probably won’t be updating again until next month tho :’( I'm also introducing a Tess POV in this chapter, trying to experiment a little with different narrative types for each character POV. Hope that's not too confusing, let me know what you think.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6

Summary: An attempt to prove yourself blows up in your face.

Warnings/tags: [whole fic is 18+ minors DNI], brief descriptions of violence, characters having to kill people, but it’s FEDRA so who cares, Joel being a dick, again.

Don't put her on jobs with me, don't make her train with me, as far as I'm concerned she doesn't exist. But don't come crying to me the next time she gets hurt.

You "We shouldn't be doing this." "Heard you the first 300 times Joel" Tess growled back. You ignored them both, determined not to let anything throw you off your game. You were finally getting in on the action and between the nerves and adrenaline, you already felt like you were about to jump out of your skin.

The three of you reached the fence and squirmed under it. You didn't even have to cut your way through, it'd been damaged for years. It should've been fixed ages ago but a lethal combination of bureaucracy, incompetent leadership and an ever-present apocalypse requiring constant attention meant holes in the system - both literal like this one and metaphorical - went unaddressed. That was the key to outsmarting FEDRA you figured: the longer they stayed upright, the more power they wielded, the lazier they got. An army of fireflies may not be able to take them down but one girl with an ability to squeeze into tight spaces and a refusal to be bested could rob them blind. Joel rattled the door you'd led them too. It was locked. "Now what?" He hissed at you. You weren't worried. The door was always locked, it wasn't the door you were trying to get into. You smiled and looked upwards. Tess gaped at you while Joel glared even harder. "You made us think we were coming in through the door." "Yup." "Why?" "To fuck with you." Now Tess was glaring too. "Don't get cocky kid or we might not take you with us next time. How're you gonna get up there anyway?" That earned an eyeroll from you. "Next flight leaves in ten minutes" you retorted, taking out two short narrow blades, sticking them into the well-worn divets you'd created over multiple trips and beginning your ascent. You heard Tess curse but you were already several feet up, slotting your feet into the tiny spaces that your muscles had memorised, making your way up to the window which opened into the warehouse. You sucked your tummy in as you slotted yourself through the window - you were definitely going to have to lay off Bill's cookies - and froze as you made eye contact with two guards. "Shit!" You scrambled your way out, hands and feet clawing for purchase as panic made your mind go blank. Then you could feel your centre of gravity shift and you were falling, landing with an ungraceful smack on the concrete. The pain made your head thrum as Tess hauled you to your feet. "What happened?" You were trying to splutter out "go" when the door flew open and those two Fedra guards came storming out. Then they were raising their guns, Joel was yelling and your brain snapped to attention. Bullets popped all around you as you sprinted for the fence. You dared a glance back as you ducked down under the wire. One of the guards lay still as Joel struggled with the other. You scraped yourself under the fence, pulling Tess after you. You screamed for Joel who had the guard in a headlock. Then Joel had one hand reaching for the guard's jaw and the other hand on the top of his head, and with a grunt and one swift motion there was a crack and the guard crumpled. Then he was diving under the fence that you were still holding up. There was a shot and a bullet pinged off the ground where Joel's head had been a second before. But his head had jerked and it scraped his ear instead. Tess whipped out her gun and fired at the guard on the roof as you grabbed Joel's arm and tugged him to your side. You didn't see who or what Tess had hit but you heard a thump 10 seconds later then Tess was pulling you both to the alley screaming one word on repeat. You couldn't hear her over your own ears ringing but you could read her lips and you knew what word she was sounding out, it was a word you'd seen on countless people's lips. "Run." --- Joel His back was glued to the wall as he surveyed the apartment building and everything, everyone surrounding it. They'd lost the guards several streets back, or at least he hoped they had. It didn't look like there were any FEDRA soldiers hanging about and he didn't think think that any of them had seen their faces anyway so it was safe as it could be under the circumstances. He signalled silently to Tess and Skye behind him and they cut across the street, trying to move quickly and quietly without looking like they were sneaking about. They climbed the stairs to the apartment in stony silence, Joel's ear still throbbing where a bullet had grazed it and Tess staring straight ahead with pursed lips while the girl kept eye contact with her shoes. She looked miserable, but she deserved to. It was her plan that had blown up so spectacularly in their faces, and they'd only agreed to it because she kept insisting that she knew what she was doing. But she'd been arrogant and careless, everything Joel warned Tess she was and everything he'd begun to hope she wasn't. She dared a glance at him once they were inside. He stared back. He could feel the familiar tension in his eyebrows and clench of his jaw. He was glaring at her. She shrank back from his gaze and started looking at the floorboards. "What happened?" Tess snapped. "I... I don't know, there's not normally guards in that room." She still couldn't look at either of them. "Maybe they stepped up their security when they realised they had a thief." She sank further into her chair." "Yeah. Maybe." "This is exactly what we warned you would happen" Joel growled. "I know." "Do you? Cos you seem to think our orders are some kinda joke. You strut around acting like you know it all just cos you know how to steal from idiots on the street. You think you can actually handle what we do? You can't. I tried to tell Tess, tried to tell you. You're just a dumb kid, don't even know how you managed to last this long." "That's enough." Tess's voice cut through his rage and he realised that there were tears glistening in Skye's eyes. He suddenly felt sick to his stomach. "Kid, we need time to talk alone." She brushed her eyes fiercely and slunk past him back to her room. "Joel." Tess gestured sharply to their room. Shit, he was in for it now. "I don't wanna hear it Tess." "You wanna say I told you so? Fine. You warned me, I put too much trust in her too soon but I'm not getting rid of her." Joel stopped. That thought hadn't even occured to him. Jesus I'm getting soft. "I ain't saying I want rid of her." "Really? Cos you seem to be doing everything in your power to drive her away." "I told you from the start this was a bad idea. She's too green, can't be out there with someone we don't trust, always having to keep an eye on em." "That's not the problem." "It's not?" "Look, I was hoping you'd figure this out for yourself eventually and do something about it but someone's gonna have to spell it out before you say or do anymore stupid shit." "What the hell you talking bout?" "You like her." You like her. The words rattled through Joel's ears and spun around in his head. You like her you like her you like her you like her. "That is... that's the stupidest shit I ever heard." "It's stupid alright but it's still true." "Tess-" "Jesus Joel how stupid do you think I am? Your eyes follow her about the room, you have a nervous breakdown every time you say more than two words to her and everytime we go out on a job you keep checking to make sure she's still there." "Cos she can't be trusted!" "Cos the thought of losing her terrifies you!" "She's too young for me." "No arguments here but the fact is you still like her." "Look, I told you from the start that taking her on was a bad idea. But you weren't hearing it so I went along with your stupid fucking plan. I tried to make sure she knew what she was doing, I looked out for her on jobs, that does not mean I have some stupid fucking crush. Don't go accusing me of shit just for following your orders," he snarled jabbing an accusing finger at her. "I'm not accusing you of jack. I know you haven't done anything and you're so fucking repressed that you'll probably never do anything but in case it's not already painfully obvious, that girl has her own stupid crush on you, so you need to stop saying shit to hurt her or you might get your wish. She might leave and not come back and god knows what'll happen to her without us. She might be arrogant, naive to the point of being downright stupid but she's still my friend, and since I took her on, my fucking responsibility, and I won't have you getting her hurt just cos you can't handle your feelings like a fucking adult." "You think I'd hurt her? You think I'd get her hurt? Maybe I should just stay away from her altogether." "Fine. Whatever it takes to get you to stop acting like such a goddamn baby." "Fine. Don't put her on jobs with me, don't make her train with me, as far as I'm concerned she doesn't exist. But don't come crying to me the next time she gets hurt" he yelled, slamming the bedroom door behind him, then slamming the apartment front door as he stalked out. Then he was stood in that damp, musty hallway alone, and suddenly all the anger sagged out of him. He imagined Tess watching him as he watched her. Tess who never missed a trick with anyone, who'd always been able to see right through him and call him on his bullshit, following his eyes, his movements, the way he acted around you and realising what it meant, probably before he even really knew. Tess who'd been his family, his first real friend after the world went to shit, the first person he'd trusted enough to sleep in the same bed with, who'd never asked for anything even when she clearly wanted more than he was giving her, only to see him on the verge of giving it to someone else. He ran his face through his hands as if he could wipe the images from his brain. He fucking hated himself. --- Tess The whiskey bottle stood empty on the kitchen table, its contents burning their way through Tess's system. Her head was swimming so much that she barely heard the creak of a door opening, then she saw you standing sheepishly in the doorway, shuffling from foot to foot. "I'm sorry." Tess shrugged. "Not your fault." "Yes it is. I nearly got us killed. You were right about me, I don't know what the fuck I'm doing." "Oh, you're talking about what happened at the barracks?" She saw you blink at that. "Yeah. What else would I be talking about?" She doesn't know, of course she doesn't know, Tess realised with a lurch. Probably just as well she'd run out of whisky. "So you couldn't hear what me and Joel were saying." "I could hear you yelling but I couldn't make out anything specific. You were arguing about me right?" "Yeah." "He thinks you should cut me loose?" Tess ran a hand over her face, trying to figure out what to say next. "No, not exactly." "Maybe you should." She gave you a long look. "Maybe I should, but I'm not." You sagged into the nearest seat. "He hates me, doesn't he?" Tess almost wished she could tell you how wrong you were when she saw the dejected look on your face. "He doesn't hate you, he's just pissed with you. He'll get over it." "Oh please, he barely tolerated me anyway. Now he can't stand the sight of me." "That's not true." She wondered if you'd honestly never seen the way his eyes tracked you at every moment. "But he won't work with me anymore." Tess sighed. "No he won't." You nodded. You were trying to look understanding, passing it off like it wasn't a big deal but she could see your disappointment. "Guess you're my only friend now," you looked up sharply, "I mean, if you ever were my friend." She chuckled and put an arm round you. "Sure kid. I'm your friend." God knows you needed one now.

#the last of us #the last of us hbo #tlou hbo #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x female oc

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lusees · 5 months

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[Contract of a Lifetime] Zhongli x childe

Tags: canon divergence, lil angsty, one sided

I like to think Childe is oblivious to his own feelings and Zhongli doesn’t dare to pursue someone with such a short life span especially with childe’s delusion.

Zhongli’s love for chide was the only real thing separating Rex lapis the archon from Zhongli the human. Free of past contracts with Liyue the fondness he holds for Childe and his transgressions seem less sinful.

With a little less guilt Zhongli finds himself falling for the ticking time bomb.

Childe ignores Zhongli after the betrayal while Zhongli waits at their usual place every morning patiently waiting for when childe is ready to talk. He’s aware how his actions affected the other and was ready to explain himself yet before he knew it the boy went off to another nation just as fast as he entered.

Even when childe is gone Zhongli still finds meaning in waiting in the same place at the same time. He’s done it for the adeptis and the dead so shall he do it for the living.

Eventually he catches wind of childes imprisonment and hesitatingly writes him a letter. Updates on how liyue moved forward even without their god, the lantern rites they didn’t get to go to together, qiqi’s coconut trees that childe gifted her and how childe probably won’t ever see any of it if he keeps up his recklessness lest he be banned from every nation.

When Childe revisits he heads to their meeting spot not actually expecting the man himself peacefully sipping tea. Now that lots of time passed and he’s clear headed he walks towards him noticing the tea cup across from Zhongli.

Strangely though Zhongli invites him to drink the pre poured cup of tea.

Childe figures Zhongli obviously knows when a harbinger would enter his land but when Hu Tao walks in and comments on how Zhongli finally put the other tea cup to good use Childe’s conscience starts eating away at him.

Childe asks how long he’s been waiting and apologizes for his childishness while Zhongli says it wasn’t long, he’s used to waiting centuries for the other adepti’s stubbornness to die down, waiting is something he’s very accustomed to.

As they drink Childe speaks of his travels before he asks Zhongli about the wars he hears so many folklores about. His eyes shine like the young boys who want to join the army far too soon and far too ignorant of war.

Zhongli appeases what childe wants to hear, the adrenaline like battles and gods he killed but he ends it off with the losses. The adeptis, the small villages, the children..and how his war god talents are no longer needed because he fought to protect liyue and liyue no longer needs him. He recites the same story of the time he strolled down the dock, “‘You've finished your duties, go ahead and call it a day.’ He said, yet I stood motionless asking myself, ‘Have I... already finished my duties?’”

Zhongli’s eyes look meaningfully into Childe’s. “Is there a closure date to your duties?” His voice dips a little and somehow his tone is more gentle than ever.

Childe is taken aback a bit but chants what he’s always does, “to die in battle for the tsaritsa is of great honour, I will uphold her will till my last breath. Let’s say it’s a contract of a lifetime if we were to put it in your words”

Zhongli looks back on how he sometimes wishes childe had such unwavering devotion to the tsaritsa for him instead. He wonders what it would be like to have a believer like him, to have a lover like him.

(More small talk over tea)

“If you’re still sorry about my waiting… spend this year’s lantern rite with me, and all the following ones.” Only after the words left his lips does Zhongli realize how childish he sounds, how had childes antics rubbed off on him even if they haven’t met in months.

Yet ajax takes it seriously a little too seriously that it seems mocking…“Must I sign a contract? Will I face the ‘wrath of the rock’ if I breach it?” He quips.

The cup of tea only barely hides the twitch in Zhongli’s lips and hides nothing of his rejected eyes.

“Hold out your pinky” Zhongli does as asked.

Their pinkies intertwine the same as kids telling a secret. “This is a modern take on contracts, ya see kids doing it all the time.”

Zhongli huffs, “I’m not that out of tune with today’s trends-“ the pressure on his pinky suddenly tightens slightly.

Childe smiles, “I pinky promise, every single lantern right. This is a contract of a lifetime”

Though very joyous Zhongli wished for more, he knew he was getting greedy but for a slight moment there he wished for a promised happy marriage, a different contract of a lifetime. Even if the lifetime left would be two years or a thousand, so be it, it must still be fulfilled. Just firstly sign the contract.

#Zhongli proud whenever Childe brings up liyue like “I raised that nation from the ground up #tartali #zhongchi #too much tea #I now understand when people say they hear the voices at like 3 am

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peggy-sue-reads-a-book · 11 months

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Soldier On, Achilles

Captive!Patroclus AU

rating: 18+ | violence, character death, slur

Additional tags: hurt/comfort, angst, soulmates, whump

Summary:

Regret sets in as Achilles waits for Patroclus to return from battle. Thetis is rude. Agamemnon throws a tantrum.

Chapter I

He did not know why his mother took the form of a sea monster around others. Probably just to be obtuse. In fact, she is graceful, glossy hair like a Persian warhorse, fair as new milk. But she did not like to garner attraction.

Achilles cannot not decide if he is relieved or irritated to see his pretty mother now. “Six hours,” he grumbles, aware of the sullen note in his tone, “I wish you had gone with them.”

“With him,” she corrects, mocking, “You don’t care about them.”

“You don’t either,” he bites, jerking around to face her. She stands only a little taller than him, softened in this form. A willow where she had been pine. Her eyes are not black but deepest green. Human. She looks at him as in childhood, ready to comfort. Something is wrong.

Achilles grits his teeth, flinching away. It hurts her visibly.

“Mother, if you let him come to harm—”

“If I let him?”

Her eyes darken, narrow. An eel poised to strike.

Achilles’ heart drops ten feet. His blood roars.

“He is injured?” He looks every direction, ears suddenly at twice their sensitivity. Any sound. Any sense at all. But there is only the empty camp. The murmur of girls, ignoring him in their tent. Slaves and grunt-workers who pass him as if invisible.

“I see you are not a favorite,” she says, “Achilles.”

She emphasizes his name: pain of the people.

“If you think a despised man earns favor with—”

“Gods be damned!” he shouts. It is foolish of him. “Can you speak of nothing else? Where is Patroclus?”

He does not wait for an answer. He shoves the flap of the women’s tent open, barking for any of them to follow, to help him arm.

“Why?”

Their collective reproach sounds through Briseis’s voice, a creeping python.

“Patroclus is hurt,” he says, attempting the curtness of a prince, “I will go.”

A sharp inhale. She follows. Briseis works quickly, but her hands are unused to buckles and bronze. Achilles clenches his teeth against the rockslide harsh words. Couldn’t she go any faster? He thinks of his love, his boy, a medic. An untrained soldier in armor not fitted to him, a sword balanced for Achilles’ alone. What was I thinking?

Competing answers:

I was not thinking

and softer,

I was thinking of myself.

Briseis keeps her eyes lowered like a slave. But he cannot mistake the flush of hate in her cheeks.

“If Hector kills you,” she hisses, shoulders trembling, “I will only be sorry for him.”

His prize has no leave to address him thusly. He raises his hand to strike her. Then lowers it.

“If Hector kills me,” he says, “You will say I punished you. No—that I took you to punish him. It is unseemly that my companion should take liberties I have not with my bed-slave. You will say you are pregnant and without your honor.”

“But I am not,” she says bitterly.

“Then lie!” he yells, cowing her, “You will lie, and he will reproach me. It will dull his grief. Honor will compel him to leave Troy with you as his wife. I’m telling you to save his life.”

“He won’t believe it,” she says softly.

“It will be easier than you think. You’ll enjoy spiting me,” he snarls, stomping out of the tent. She is alone among the men’s things. He was right on only one front. Deceiving Patroclus into marriage would save him. But defaming his lover would only sharpen the grief. And that was if he believed her.

The creek of chariot wheels. Horses’ crying sharp and panicked. A six-hour campaign. What could have happened? But they were returning now. His boy would be with them. Bruised, perhaps, even broken, but here. Tears stand in Achilles’ eyes and he all but runs to meet the returning army. They move slowly – he sees a shrouded body hefted between Odysseus and Diomedes. Their faces are creased, exchanging heavy glances. Someone of importance, he supposes. This does not matter. Not now. Achilles searches the company, escalating from fevered to frantic. Where was he? He would flog Automedon if it was he would had failed to make all haste. A horrible thought: the walls. An image, as if from a remembered dream. Of pair of them, Patroclus had always been more adept at climbing trees.

And on Scyros – he had been so upset. To upset to notice his feet cut to shreds when he had scaled that cliff to what – to howl Thetis into being? No.

Achilles dives into the crowd, elbowing past his own men, knocking them into the dirt without looking. He shoves soldier after soldier aside. If he fell. He would have caught himself, known to tuck his chin and roll, but there would be broken bones. His back, perhaps, or both arms. Both femurs, even. That would explain why he had been carried so slowly. Achilles shouts, howls his name. “Patroclus!” then, “Automedon!”

There was no way he had not been knocked unconscious by a fall like that. No way for him to hear Achilles’ voice, to be comforted at all. And it was his fault.

What was the word he had used again in their quarrel?

Hubris.

He nearly crashes into Odysseus and would have upset both counselor’s and their burden had Odysseus not stopped him with a firm hand, flat to his chest. A fatherly gesture. The prince of Ithaca looks in his eyes, stern, unintimidated.

Achilles stops in his tracks. The blood drains from his face as his eyes lock onto the shrouded form.

Your Grace. Automedon’s voice is blurred as if by a sudden strong wind. Achilles screams, and screams, and screams, pivoting to strike the boy in the face. The blow knocks him to the earth with a squealing cry. The crunch of a wrist breaking. Shame laces its way through Achilles’ rage. Reproachful eyes – he does not know whose—as a larger man helps the injured boy up, dragging him into the throng where he will be hidden.

When he raises his fist again, Diomedes catches it with a face full of scorn.

“Enough.”

Odysseus raises and deepens his voice at once. It is a king’s voice.

“You disgrace yourself and him, prince,” Odysseus says with cold authority.

“He is mine,” rasps Achilles, his face contorting as he stares at the body, just barred from his reach, “My companion. My right.” Two more have him by his other arm. He does not look to see their faces.

“I think not.”

The prince of Ithaca lifts his chin, arms folded calmly.

With an inhuman roar, Achilles wrenches himself from the other men. Odysseus steps deftly out of his way as a performer from a charging bull. It occurs to Achilles that he is being mocked but it does not matter. All that matters is to reach him. To see punishment for those who mistook his Patroclus for dead. For dragging him home shrouded when he needed immediate medicine, needed Achilles. They would all be beaten. Their women with them. He tears off his helmet, scraping his knees raw in the sand.

“I’m here,” he cries, voice finally breaking with tears. Everyone can hear him. Let them. “Patroclus—my darling—my precious boy, my love.”

He lifts the body into his lap, tearing the cloth away. Red hair, dulled with grey spills across his legs.

There is quiet. The crowd has stilled, backed away. Odysseys and Diomedes look at one another again, this time with held breath. Men part to clear a path.

A grim voice rumbles, close now.

“Faggot,” it sneers.

As Agamemnon approaches, one foot at a time. Heavy, yet noiseless. A tiger stalking. Diomedes snaps to attention, leaping on the opportunity to clarify loyalties.

“You sully the King of Sparta,” he says in an affected pitch, “I’m sure you can find another boy to dote on.”

Tentative laughter rustles through the army. Achilles is frozen where he kneels. His face that of a startled little boy.

“Silence!” bellows the general. Then, to Achilles. “Prince of Pthia. You indeed dishonor my brother with this . . . display. And so twice dishonor me. I will consider what to say to you when my grief has eased. You will leave now.”

Achilles moves to his feet, slow and trembling, anemic with terror.

“Go!” Agamemnon’s shout carries down the beach. “Men of Sparta! Your king is dead at Hector’s hands because the famed Myrmidon’s princess would cower behind his mother before doing what was necessary!”

Menelaus is dead.

Hector had killed him.

As Achilles darts through the crowd as a deer weaving past hounds he asks endlessly:

but where is Patroclus?

*Author’s Notes:

Yes, this is the fiction I began over a year ago and was unable to continue due to a depressive episode during my pregnancy. All seven completed chapters are posted to my AO3 but I also plan to release periodically on Tumblr. From the bottom of my heart, I appreciate the kind and encouraging comments and emails I have received on this project while my mental health was in the toilet. Comment if you want to be tagged. Minors will not be tagged.

@nambnb @withlovefromolympus @ygnoe @human-still-developing @hycinthrt @johaerys-writes

#greek mythology #achilles #the song of achilles #the iliad #patroclus #patrochilles #tagamemnon #tsoa #apollo #tsoa fanfic #angst #hurt #ok maybe it’s even a little whumpish #minors shoo

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