#and the scarecrow was still in the water | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

flamingpudding · 6 months

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Fictober23 Prompt: 27 - "I don't know if they will accept this."

Fandom: DPxDC

Rating: T

Warnings: -

A/N: Started writing this yesterday and finished it during lunch break today. So I decided to take a break tomorrow and post this early :D

Danny nervously poked his scrambled eggs as he sunk just a little lower in his chair. His eyes flicked back and forth between all of his new siblings that were currently in a heated discussion not noticing his slow withdrawal from the discussion and acting like he really didn't want to get noticed by them.

"Have you seen Mister Freeze's new sidekick? The white haired one that's probably a Meta with ice powers?"

"You mean Wraith?"

"Wait, I thought the kid was Ivy's sidekick? He helped blow up a facility last week!"

"No, no, no, no! Isn't he with Scarecrow?! I am sure he accidentally screwed up with the Fear Gas ten days ago so no one go harmed! But Scarecrow screamed at him that being new to the job wasn't an excuse."

"Didn't he help Catwoman steal two artifacts a couple days ago? One of them wasn't cat themed though I am pretty sure he was with her that time…"

"Wasn't he also the kid that was with Joker the last time he broke out? You know the white haired kid that was forced to assist him and tripped him right into his own trap and made the whole arrest a lot easier and quicker than usually?"

"It's like the kid switches who's sidekick he is every week…"

"Maybe he is interning with villains before breaking off to do his own thing? We better keep an eye on him."

Danny sank just a little bit lower in his chair and avoided looking at Alfred. Of course Danny knew about his new family's night time jobs, well day time in Duke's case, but when they had asked him if he wanted to take part in it he had declined. They didn't know about his second form, they only thought of him as a Meta with ghost powers that just escaped a horrible situation and now wanted a quiet and somewhat normal life. So they had accepted his decline in going into hero work, especially Alfred and Bruce appeared to be most relieved and happy about that decision at first.

But what Danny hadn't told them was that he might have declined going back into hero work, that didn't mean he would stay completely out of that side of his new family's life. The half ghost hadn't planned on it but it had all started with him accidentally coming across Poison Ivy. She reminded him of Sam in her values, so before his brain was able to catch up Danny asked if she wanted help blowing a facility that was pumping toxic waste into the water. Years of helping Sam with organizing activist protests did that to his brain.

One thing led to another and somehow Danny found himself more often than he liked in his phantom form acting as a sidekick or assistant to the rogues this family was fighting. In a way Danny felt like he was now more of an anti-hero than a hero, still fulfilling his obsession of protecting by finding creative ways to foil the rogues' plans if they get too dangerous or murderous but not really doing the whole righteous hero stick either.

Plus by working with Mister Freeze and Scarecrow at times he also gets to fully live out the mad scientist side of his brain. With them especially he gets to create whatever his weird wired brain could come up with, though, he did 'accidentally' leave behind USBs or papers with his inventions for Tim to find at the crime scenes.

What his new brother did with them was none of his business. If the Bats and Birds suddenly had new equipment in their arsenal that looked eerily similar to his inventions than that was that.

The problem was… his new family probably wouldn't like or accept that kind of turn of events. They were righteous and defenders of justice with moral codes and standards, Danny wasn't sure he could fulfill at the moment. Watching his new siblings arguing back and forth about Wraith, his new anti-hero alias Selina, Harley and Ivy had come up with, made his stomach sink every morning. In fact Danny was getting more and more scared with the passing days that his new family would kick him out the moment they learned about it just like his former parents had done.

He wished he had Jazz's contact to talk this over with her, but because of his situation Bruce found it better to wait a little longer before he could safely reach out to her. Maybe he could ask if Harley could talk with him instead.

A cup of tea was placed before him and Danny's head snapped up (when had he started to look down?) to find Alfred smiling calmly at him. "Master Daniel, I believe a nice cup of tea will help calm down your nerves."

"Thanks." Danny mumbled his hands cupping the cup and letting the warmth of it seep over his hands into his arms to comfort his nerves. He took a sip, eyes going wide for a moment before he looked over to Alfred who was currently taking away Tim's third cup of unfinished coffee while the other was distracted with the ongoing discussion. The old man gave him a knowing smile and Danny couldn't help the small grateful one that formed on its own, though he also couldn't help the slight feeling that Alfred knew what was frazzling Danny's nerves so much.

"Jason, maybe you can get into contact with Wraith?"

"Why the fuck should I?"

"You have a different reputation than us as Red Hood. He might be more willing to talk with you, to figure out his motives and such."

Danny choked on his tea, hurriedly placing the cup back on the table before pounding his own chest in a desperate attempt to get any tea that went down the airpipe out.

"Danny! Are you okay?" Dick was instantly on him, worried older brother vibes and all that.

He wheezed before breathing in relief once he stopped coughing, giving the oldest a barely hearable "I'm fine."

"<tt> Try not to die stupidly like this, Fenton." Damian clicked his tongue and Danny gave him a toothy grin.

"I am already half dead." He heard Jason snort. While the family thought Danny was just a Meta with ghost-like powers. Danny had explained his accident to them and how he died and revived with powers through it when they asked him why he was insisting through jokes that he was half dead. Jason and Dick were the only ones who really enjoyed his death related jokes and puns, the others were more worried about his mental state.

"Leave the death jokes to Todd, Fenton."

"Oh come on, don't ghost me like that! My jokes are just as much to die for then his are!"

"Fenton."

Danny just laughed, while the previous discussion made him fear for the future, he still loved the family he had gotten added into by sheer luck. He had come to quickly love them all and felt like his own weirdness fit perfectly into theirs. It truly made him hope that he could stay with them for a long time and maybe even add Jazz into the picture as well once his whole situation was more secured and Bruce would allow him to contact her and his friends.

Later that day Danny was in the library reading a book on Molecular Structure of the human biology and how it can mutate depending on external influence, as a preparation for his next endeavor as Wraith with Killer Croc, when he felt tapping on his shoulder.

Turning his head slightly Danny startled finding Cassandra in his personal space sitting next to him with a mirthful smile. She gave him a small wave as a greeting before sitting back a little, apparently satisfied with the fact that she sort of scared him there a little.

"Hey Cass." He smiled, putting one of the many bookmarks, Jason had distributed and stored away everywhere in an effort to stop his siblings from creating dog ears in books, on the page he was on before closing the book in his hands.

"You worry too much, relax." She signed with a reassuring smile once Danny had turned his full attention on her. Confused, the half ghost on the other hand tilted his head, puzzled about what Cass was going on about. He did feel rather relaxed right now.

"You being Wraith." Wide eyed Danny hurried to cover Cassandra's hands, like one would cover another's mouth if they blurred out a secret. His eyes hurriedly darted around in their surroundings but aside from the shelves filled with books Danny couldn't see nor sense anyone that might listen in on them.

Cass was shaking in silent laughter as Danny nervously turned back to look at her. "How…"

Slowly she freed her hands from his and patted them comfortingly before beginning to sign again, smiling knowingly. "I saw. Your body language is the same."

"I…" How was he going to explain this? He had gotten found out, was Cass going to tell him to leave now? Was this the end of his new found family life? It came sooner than he anticipated. Blankly he stared at his hands that uselessly lay in his lap on the book cover, one hand slowly moving to nervously trace unseen patterns on the books spine.

Danny did not see how Cass frowned at that action, all mirth gone from her smiles. She did not like her brother was drawing into himself, doubt and fear started to radiate from his body language and Cassander didn't like that even more. She moved a little closer, so that she would have an easier time to reach Danny and poked his cheek mercilessly until her little brother looked back up at her.

"No need to explain." She actually spoke instead of sign just to show Danny how serious she was. "It's fine. Funny even. Like Selina."

"But…" A lump formed in his throat and he swallowed, trying to find the right words. Cass waited patiently for him. "Mom and Dad… my former parents… they didn't accept me as a ghost hero…"

Cassandra nodded but didn't sign nor say anything, seeing that there was more her newest little brother wanted to say but still trying to find the right words for. It was something she could relate to. Unable to find the right words, hadn't she been through that before too. She lay a comforting hand down on Danny's shoulder, once more waiting patiently.

"I… I don't know if they will accept this… this turn of events. Especially in this family. You all are taking the Hero route and I…" Danny swallowed once more. "I can stop, I can change. I just don't… I don't want to lose another family…"

Before Danny knew what was happening he was enveloped in a warm hug, he blinked several times before realizing that Cass was hugging him tightly. He was held like this for a while before she drew back from him, poking him once more to make him look at her once more.

"No need. Don't stop." She spoke her voice, soft and smoothing while smiling at him brightly.

"But…" She shook her head, silencing whatever Danny wanted to say before giving him a mischievous smile, her hands letting go of his shoulder so sign her next words. "You are not hurting anyone, you keep them from killing, from being too dangerous to civilians, not really breaking any big laws. You help us in your own law breaking way. Like Jason does."

"I am not as good as him…" Danny mumbled still unsure but Cass only smiled fondly ruffling her little brother's hair.

"You started to smile more since you became Wraith." She flat out told him, causing Danny to look up at her stunned and she laughed silently. "Keep going. If you go too far, I will be there to pull you back."

"You're like Jazz…" Danny mumbled, finally with a little smile on his face and Cass returned it with a satisfying one of her own before pulling him in for another hug, he returned this time.

That night, Orphan watched happily how her little brother laughed carefree and freer than he had in a month sitting on Killer Croc shoulders, testing out his newest invention while the rogue was trying to get him off, unsuccessfully so far. Her other brothers surrounded the two and tried to figure out what was going on since Wraith was supposed to be their rogues gallery sidekick and not challenge them like that.

She laughed even when suddenly out of nowhere a USB-Stick hit Red Robin in the face. Obviously she had caught Wraith flinging it in his direction, but she was not about to tell them that. Orphan would let them figure that out on their own, meanwhile she was going to enjoy watching her newest little brother smile and laugh while being the chaos gremlin she had seen in him from day one as he was messing with the rogues as well as vigilantes / heroes of Gotham.

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allthingswhumpyandangsty · 7 months

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🎃⁀➷ 31 days, 31 spooky prompts for Whumptober *ੈ✩‧₊˚🕷️🍂

1. ❝ don’t look, try not to show any fear as I tell you this, but I think that pumpkin behind you is alive, and it’s looking at us. ❞

2. ❝ please, I’m not crazy. that scarecrow is alive and it’s trying to kill me. you have to believe me. no one in this town is safe! ❞

3. ❝ you remember that body that was admitted to the morgue last night? the one that has human bite marks that looks nasty infected on the arm. yeah, well, this is going to sound insane, but it’s gone. the body’s missing. ❞

4. ❝ babe, you’re dead. this is the afterlife. we’re all ghosts here. ❞

5. ❝ do not come out of your room when it’s nighttime. no matter what you hear, you must stay in your room throughout the night. ❞

6. ❝ the bats, they’re biting and killing people. we have to run. now! ❞

7. ❝ is that a person sitting on the tree branch? why is she smiling like that? what’s wrong with her eyes? oh my god, she’s crawling down. oh my god, she’s crawling towards us! ❞

8. ❝ you haven’t heard of the blood moon curse? you must be new here. ❞

9. ❝ if you hear a voice calling your name from the woods at night, do not answer. ever. ❞

10. ❝ I got bitten, and I need you to kill me before I turn and become like them. please promise me you’ll kill me before I hurt anybody. please don’t let me be like them. ❞

11. ❝ no, don’t make eye contact with it. keep on walking, but do not run. ❞

12. ❝ there will be a ritual tonight and they will use you as a human sacrifice. you have to get out of here. ❞

13. ❝ shhh, she can’t see us, but she can hear us. be quiet. ❞

14. ❝ what do you mean the doll is alive? it’s just a doll. ❞

15. ❝ one of us is possessed. there’s one way to find out who. ❞

16. ❝ we’ve been walking in circle. we’ve walked past this house before. you see that lady in the window staring at us? she was also there the last time we walked past her property, staring at us through the window exactly like this. it’s like she hasn’t moved at all. ❞

17. ❝ you need my blood to stay alive. drink it. drink. or you die. ❞

18. ❝ I think there’s someone living in the walls. I can hear them breathing at night. ❞

19. ❝ this is a mistake. we should never have come here. the myth is real. we’ll never get out alive now. I’m sorry. gosh, I’m so sorry. ❞

20. ❝ if you see the shadow, you only have 3 days left to live. ❞

21. ❝ are those claw marks on the trees? they weren’t here last night when we set up the tent. ❞

22. ❝ I don’t think the blood on his clothes is fake, neither are the human organs in those jars. we have to get out of here. ❞

23. ❝ I’ve seen it all. the devil is real. it’s too late now. all of us are going to die tonight. ❞

24. ❝ they are not a cult. they’re my family. I’m not being brainwashed. let me go. let me go! ❞

25. ❝ what did you just inject me with? what’s in the syringe? what’s in the fcking syringe?!! ❞

26. ❝ those blood, it’s still fresh, meaning whoever — or whatever — killed it is still around. we have to keep moving, and we have to keep quiet. ❞

27. ❝ she doesn’t like her dolls to speak at night. if she hears your voice after 8 o’clock, she will rip your vocal cord out. ❞

28. ❝ there’s something in the mist. if you breathe, you die. ❞

29. ❝ look at me, hey, look at me, these people, they look like your friends and they sound like your friends. but they’re not your friends. your friends are dead. we cannot trust anybody. ❞

30. ❝ don’t get too close to the water. the fairies have very sharp teeth and strong grips. ❞

31. ❝ be careful in the full moon night. just… be very careful, alright? ❞

TAP HERE FOR; 31 DAYS, 31 TROPES FOR WHUMPTOBER

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pluvialpoet · 12 days

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bergamot

Summary: moments of quiet reflection reaffirm what you both already know to be true- he’s always going to come back, and you’re always going to be waiting with open arms

Pairing: dick grayson x fem!reader

Requested: no

Warning: idiots in love, friends to lovers, mutual pining, scarecrow's fear toxin, mentions of death and grief, slight angst, fluffy ending, loosely based off of batman: hush (2019)- but no major spoilers

Word Count: 3,930

masterlist

a/n: I know that dick has a tolerance against/is immune to scarecrow's fear toxin, but let's pretend he isn't...for the plot

Sleep is cruel in the way it continues to evade you when you crave it most. Mocking and teasing, exhaustion morphs into desperation. Even with your eyes shut dreams fail you, and nightmares taunt.

A siren wails, bellowing out into the night and echoing caution even after the initial cry has faded. Could be a police car, or an ambulance. Maybe even a fire truck. You try not to consider all of the possibilities, knowing it’ll only starve your slumber, further. With a huff, you adjust the heavy comforter, pulling it up until it bunches just under your chin.

In a few weeks, branches will be stripped of their leaves. Snow will fall, and the city will suffocate under a blanket of white. July was only yesterday, sticky and never-ending- infinite until finite. Now, January lurks around the corner- weeks away, but daunting, nevertheless.

The pillow tucked behind your back is a poor imitation of the brawn you wish feathers and fill could replicate, just as the one pressed to your chest acts as an imposter mimicking the body meant to be sleeping peacefully beside you. It’s impossible to tell feelings of loneliness apart from being alone, and deep down you know that reminiscence is merciless. Memory is wicked. But you can’t help remembering. It’s the only way you won’t forget- and even then, so much time has passed that you’ve begun to fade, and he’s begun to blur. Spiraling further and further away from reality and control, you drift towards hope, feeding each dangerous possibility until you have nothing left to give, but delusion takes and takes and takes…

Answers elude like comfort- and sleep. When, how, and why is lost upon you. He’s been gone for so long. Even so, your life has continued, evolving to accommodate the gaps he used to fill. Though, it’s about as effective as papier-mâchéing an open wound shut. Everywhere you look, everything you do, every time you shut your eyes, he finds a way to bleed into you, one way or another, and you welcome it every single time. All you really have are memories and a space in your bed which has always been his to come home to.

Outside, the wind howls. Angry and violent, the sound rattles the windowpane and you burrow deeper into the covers trying to block it out. Shadows dance across the ceiling, but none of them belong to the ghost you’ve been waiting for. Another frustrated huff fails to quell burning exhaustion, and you rub your eyes with the back of your hand before checking the clock next to you. Neon green flashes, all too pleased to report that it’s well past midnight and you haven’t gotten a wink of sleep. Already tomorrow, and you’re still mourning today.

Pushing the covers off, you shiver. There’s a chill in the air and little comfort to be found in the fact that the entire apartment feels cold and empty without him in it. At least it’s not just the bed. It’s the entire room, the hallway, and the kitchen, too. You reach for the light above the stove and begin to search the cupboards for a mug. If nothing else, at least a cup of tea will warm you up. Thanks to muscle memory, you act on autopilot, filling the ceramic with water and placing it in the microwave before picking a teabag and waiting. Waiting, waiting, waiting, always waiting. Three monotone beeps call your attention back before it has another chance to wander away from you, and you retrieve the cup and place the teabag inside. Steeping time be damned.

You can’t wait any longer.

One leg curls under the other as you take a seat and bring the mug to your mouth. It burns the tip of your tongue, a small price to pay for your greed, and you swallow the too-hot liquid regardless of the consequences. The pain barely registers, anyway. With both palms pressed to the vessel, warmth finally finds you, and a barely contented huff passes your lips to blow the steam from the cup. It’s not always like this. It’s not supposed to be, but for so long, it has been. Never months, always weeks. You don’t know how to do this or how much longer you can put yourself through this torture when every sunrise twists the knots in your stomach tighter and tighter. How much longer until you snap?

You’re so tangled up in your suffering that you miss it the first time, until the hair on the back of your neck bristles. Did you imagine it? Silently, you wait, setting the steaming mug down to listen, and this time, you hear it. Faintly, but there. Real.

Tap tap. Tap tap. Tap tap tap tap.

I’m here. I’m safe. Can I come in?

Your feet move before the rest of your body does, and the chair scrapes loudly across the hardwood as you jump from it in shock. A cocktail of excitement, worry, disbelief, and fear bubbles and swirls through you when you spot a familiar glimpse of black and blue through the window near the fire escape.

“Dick?”

Crossing the room without any memory of doing so, you fiddle with the latch that keeps you from him, and him from you, until finally it clicks. With only one foot through the window, you reach for him, desperate to savor the illusion until mass, warmth and a heartbeat prove it to be real. Upon realizing, your breath hitches. He’s real. He’s real, and he’s here. No longer a dream. No longer a nightmare. No longer a vision only sleep can grant or mold, he stands before you. He takes a moment to properly slide the window shut behind him, returning the lock to its rightful position- keeping the rest of the world and the winter, out- before turning to face you once more. He can’t even get a word out before you’re pressed against him, wrapping your arms around him and holding yourself back from crushing him with the intensity of your longing. Overly cautious of injuries you can’t physically see- mindful of bruises, tears of flesh, and wounds that remain eclipsed by kevlar and moonlight- you embrace him with a hesitancy that severely undermines your fervor. Holding him gently- delicately, tenderly- the way you’ve dreamt about entwining with him on nights when sleep has been generous instead of cruel, you finally look up at him.

A sigh of relief dispels the hoarded tension in your neck, shoulders, and chest when you rest your head against his chest and inhale. Sweat and copper muddle his natural scent, but even when he’s covered in his victories, even when he’s drenched in his defeats, he still smells like home- warm, safe, familiar, and comforting.

He hesitates to envelop you with the same thinly veiled desperation, holding himself back.

Every muscle in his body carries the strain of battles fought and won. His head throbs with the force of his thoughts, and the inescapable dizziness that always accompanies crashing down from a high. Then again, he’s never been one to ease into things gracefully. Tiny cuts and scrapes, angry blacks and blues, and even gaping gashes that are still seeping and tender to the touch hardly register as anything other than a stinging, burning sensation. Everything is dull. Ferocity and intensity both subdued. Through the haze of everything that competes for his attention, you’re the one thing that’s clear. As always, the hold you have on him, both physical and metaphorical, brings him back to his senses, but doubt keeps him withdrawn.

Warily wrapping his arms around you, Dick returns the gesture as best as he can. Cages built of muscle, meant to keep you close, refuse to lock you in place, and he finds it increasingly difficult to resist surrendering to you entirely. Just as his nerves begin to settle they spike once more when the gravity of the past few months finally begins to sink in. As you continue to tremble in his arms, he swallows a lump in his throat and fights the urge to hold you impossibly closer. If he weren’t so afraid, he’d never let go again. But he’s not the same man he was the last time you saw him. Having seen too much, he knows that he can’t let this become something more. Fear is rotten. He’s seen the future, and if he keeps leaning on you then he’s only going to drag you down with him. Regardless of what he really wants, he won’t let this become something more, but then he looks down at you in his shirt and realizes it’s always been something more- and it terrifies him more than anything.

When pink swirls around the drain- a muted severity of soapy lather and remnants of crusted, oozing red- he rests his forehead against the cold tiles and lets out a deep sigh. He can’t remember the last time he’d had a proper shower. Under the trickling scorch, he allows his shoulders to slump forward, letting the too-hot water soothe his muscles like a balm, and it stings in a way he welcomes- a reminder that he’s done it again, he’s survived the worst and now he just has to survive the recovery.

He’s never been good with the after, always losing himself in possibilities of what comes next without taking a minute to catch his breath, but he’s trying to be better. He owes it to you. Not only you but himself, too- but mostly you. So, he tries to forget. He pushes memories too fresh to be forgotten somewhere else, banishing them to the far corners of his mind and locking them away until he’s ready to face his demons at his own pace, on his own terms, but his wicked creations fight back. Even when they’re crafted from delusions, mirroring real-life counterparts with a precision too exact to be a figmented replication, he finds himself engaged in an internal match that never crowns a victor. It’s a conflict that never ceases, even after his own surrender. Still, he’s found that the intrusions are less when copper is overpowered by citrus, and when red, inevitably swirls into pink.

Steam amplifies the smell of sweat and body odor, so pungent that the only word to describe it is bad, and he holds his breath while he reaches for your soap once more. He can’t believe you let him anywhere near you. It’s even more unfathomable that you sought an embrace, despite the remnants of battle that’ve woven themselves into his being- lingering, even long after. He’s repulsed by that which exposes him, a stench so strong that it serves as a testament to the fact that he reclaimed you as soon as he could, coming right back to this haven of sorts without any prior stops, and his stomach churns uncomfortably, the once soothing mist tainting each attempt at air, and a weight teases the aching muscles of his chest which breath does not alleviate.

Through the haze, he sees the truth- when reality remains undistorted by the tricks of his own want and longing, he recognizes fact without his own warped perceptions of fantasy- and he realizes just how careless he’s been. By allowing desire to suade better judgment, he’s put you at risk. Guilt punishes with an onslaught of emotions ranging from frustration to anger, sadness to grief, and even regret to sorrow. His own reluctance to accept how dangerous it was, and always has been, to lean on your affections as a crutch has finally caught up to him. After all that he’s seen, after everything he’s been forced to bear witness to over the past few months, coupled with a lifetime of loss, he’s no longer able to ignore the thought that’s broken free from the shackles of elsewhere. What was once dull, always there but never really forgotten, has become intense and persistent.

Every time he finds his way back to you, he invites peril into your life. He’s hazardous. Even if he’s not, being attached to him- in any way- puts you at an even greater risk of endangerment. Trying to justify something even as tame as a friendship is absurd. You’re so much more than that. Whether he meant for it to happen or not, you’ve found a place within his heart. Every beat echoes your name and carries secrets of his devotion. All that remains of the walls meant to protect both of you is rubble, and Dick stands alone in the epicenter of the aftermath, unsure and torn between chaos and order. Selfishly, he wants. Greedily, he craves. Morally, he knows that he should just walk away- but he can’t.

The scene shifts, ceramic tile falling away to reveal an eerie, yet familiar boneyard, and he shakes his head. It’s not real. It was never real- but it was so vivid. Cold fog obscures his vision, and he closes his eyes. This is a trick. This isn’t truth. He knows what comes next. Forced to indulge in his worst nightmares, the shrill, piercing sound of your terror renders him numb. He can’t move. Paralyzed, he fights limbs of lead, but he can’t act. It surrounds him, your agony, and he can’t do anything to save you. He can’t protect you. With each cry of his name, you plead, but there’s nothing he can do. When silence follows his ragged breaths, he refuses to look down. He hates this part the most, but he doesn’t have a choice. Crimson stains the black and blue weave, and he can taste metallic. He doesn’t have any control over this hallucination, born and bred from his greatest fear, and all he can do is witness the fallout of your shared torture- your blood on his hands, his body slumped against your tombstone, and the triumphant laughter of a clown, a scarecrow, a ventriloquist, and a hundred more that delight in your demise.

He can’t catch his breath. Drifting further and further away from reality, he struggles to claw his way back towards the light. When his vision begins to fade, he reaches for more soap. In for three counts, out for four. In for three counts, and out for four, again, Dick feels lightheaded. There’s no limit to how far he’d go to keep you safe, not a single rule or code he wouldn’t break to protect you from anything and everything- and that’s an entirely different threat, in and of itself. His loyalty has the potential to become his ruin, and he’d let it- for your sake- but would that be enough? Could his devotion be enough to keep you safe from the otherwise brutal fate that awaits you with, and without, his intervention?

The bite of a washrag leaves his skin raw. Lost to his thoughts, he’s been mindlessly scrubbing away at his flesh, dousing himself with bubbled distraction. Another breath fails to alleviate his unease. All he can think about is that which is out of his control, and he can’t help but wonder, is there even a chance for the two of you?

Every thought is a contradiction.

He could wax poetic to Bruce about love- how precious and fragile and conscious it is- but he can’t even bring himself to act upon his own advice. Even worse than following in a denialist’s footsteps is being a hypocrite, but there are just too many variables for him to take into account- too many what-ifs and maybe’s that enable him to cower behind words left unspoken.

In spite of this, he dares to dream of a future where you’re his and he’s yours, and nothing else matters. Lost to his delusions, a smile threatens to work muscles that’ve remained dormant for months of disuse. It hurts. Stretching, pulling, and manipulating his face to actually convey what he’s feeling instead of trying to veil it, hurts. However, the worst pain follows. As he reaches for the illusion, it slips through his fingers- so close he can almost hold it, yet just out of reach, simultaneously- and just like that, reality distorts the mirage. Pried from him, ripped away and sporting his claw marks, what could’ve been remains what could’ve been- and it’s all his fault.

Fear suppresses his love.

He’s already lost so much, he can’t lose this, too. He won’t. However glutinous, he craves more- even when he knows he can’t have it, he wants with a desire that’s almost too strong to ignore. Almost. Locking his feelings away, he throws away the key, but his ribs begin to expand with the intensity of his longing, and his chest feels tight. This isn’t like before. It seems as if his secrets have outgrown their cages, and he finds himself at a crossroads. His mind begins to drift and he wonders if this agony is why Bruce kept Selina at arm’s length…

A sigh, and a revelation- he’s not Bruce, and you’re not Selina.

Dick’s been going about this all wrong. Despite everything he’s been taught about love and loss, he’s allowed a life outside of a domino mask and kevlar. He deserves to cherish someone, to protect and devote himself to something other than his work- someone to fight for, someone to come home to- and he deserves to be beloved, too. Even if only for tonight. Even if tomorrow isn’t promised and all you have is right now, you’re here. On the other side of the frosted glass screen and plaster, you’re waiting for him. Another smile, less forced and genuine, feels like a relief instead of a burden. His skin pebbles under the frigid stream left in the wake of molten steam. With a shiver, he seeks your warmth, reaching for the faucet and stepping out of the enclosure.

A worn shirt rests atop the counter, the fabric faded from years of wear and wash, folded neatly beneath a pair of fresh boxers and socks likely left behind from the last time, or the time before that, or even the time before…truth be told, he thought he’d lost it, misplaced it, or given it away. Of course, you’ve had it in your care, all along. The corner of his mouth threatens to twitch into a smile. Slipping the towel from around his waist, he begins to dress, wondering when you managed to sneak in without him hearing you. The door used to creak, and he realizes that you must have fixed it while he was gone. It’s hard not to think about what else might’ve changed since the last time he saw you. Would you have stayed with him, if he asked you to? You always have. Six years and counting, he muses if you always will…

His hair is getting long, again. Droplets fall from the overgrown strands at the base of his neck down his back, making him shiver and reach for his towel once more. He pats his hair down, ruffling it with the towel a few times before wiping away at the mirror. Making eye contact with his reflection he’s the first to look away. He’s looked worse and supposes that's a small win in and of itself, though he can’t stand the sight of himself any longer than he has to. A deep exhale and a shake of his head diverts his attention to the countertop where a spare toothbrush has been left out for him to use. Of course, he already knows where the toothpaste is. He helps himself with a growing smile and places it in the holder right next to yours when he’s done. His chest expands with something he can’t quite name when he finds himself surrounded by gentle reminders of your care. A small cup of water and painkillers act as physical embodiments of your thoughtfulness and he revels in the knowledge that you’re letting him know you’re there for him while giving him space to come down from whatever adrenaline rush the past few months have spiked. It’s in those silent gestures of love that he hears it the loudest, echoing and amplifying all around him.

It must be killing you to act so selflessly, and he tries not to be selfish with your affections, but it’s difficult not to feel like a burden when you’ve rearranged more than just a spot on the counter, or a place for him to keep his toothbrush next to yours, for him- giving him a home without expecting anything else in return.

Down the hall, the mattress protests against his arrival, angry springs squeaking from months of disuse before welcoming his weight and warmth on the side opposite of yours- his side, from the very moment, years ago, when he found his way back to you after a night that left him bloody and beaten but not broken. Never broken- not when he’s always had you. Though most memory of the first evening spent beside you remains a blur, the ability to recall details and specifics stolen from him as his wounds wept crimson tears that stained your hands and upholstery, fondness prevails. Despite robbed recollections, tender warmth, and affection remain. Even then, he knew. Without really knowing, without certainty, he was certain- he loved you, and you loved him, and every gentle, devoted gesture has always reaffirmed the one thing he could never doubt. Every silent offering, every selfless sacrifice, and piece of yourself that you’ve surrendered to him further insists that your heart acts in favor of three words never spoken.

His arm finds your waist easily, and he’s grateful that he doesn’t have to tiptoe around his reluctance to accept what this is, anymore. Not when you’re here. Not when you’re waiting so patiently for him, and snuggle back into his hold the moment he reaches out for you. Some limbs tangle, but not yours- the two of you fit perfectly together, like you were truly meant to be, and the moment that you’re allowed to converge, you press your palm flat against his arm, holding him close to you.

Reacquainting yourself with him after is always your favorite part. Though, your heart cleaves when your fingertips ghost over a new scar- the skin still raised and angry, even if the wound has closed. With something akin to sympathy, an apology for the pain he’s suffered that you can’t take away, you gently trace the new mark in acknowledgment.

Tomorrow, or later today, when the sunlight illuminates the sky, you’ll ask him about it. Or, maybe you won’t. When the first glimpses of warm light threaten to spill over the horizon, you might get answers to the questions you’ve spent the last few months pondering. Or, perhaps everything unasked will remain unresolved. Either way, it doesn’t matter. All that matters is the fact that tonight, you’ll sleep- safe and protected, at ease and engulfed by all things him- and even if it only lasts for the night, you’ll cherish whatever small moments of intimacy the moon grants before the sun, inevitably, rips them away- a fate you’ve grown to expect, time and time again.

Still, you let your eyes flutter shut, basking in the silence for only a moment before it’s interrupted.

“I love you,” Dick confesses softly, words warm and whispered against your shoulder encouraged by a fleeting moment of courage- and the tender caress of your touch- that prompt the secret to spill from his chest, an accident he fears he may have to render excuses for to salvage whatever broken pieces are left of this unspoken relationship.

“I know,” With your back towards him he misses the stretch of a smile ghosting your lips, and finds himself tensing behind you. Could you have really known? All this time? Is that why he always comes back? Is that why you let him? “I love you, too,”

“No, I mean, I really lo-“

“Tell me in the morning, yeah?” You suggest before he can get too far ahead of himself. Torn between wanting to clarify his confession and realizing that maybe he doesn’t have to, Dick relents. He can’t really argue, anyway- having kept this to himself for so many years, another few hours won’t hurt. With a breath- of acceptance, not defeat or surrender- he closes his eyes and finally relaxes into your embrace.

It’s over.

For now, Dick can rest easy knowing that when the smell of bergamot fades, this tacit love will always remain, and he finds enough comfort in the realization to let it lull him into a peaceful sleep.

a/n: I love him so much!!! this has been rotting in my brain for nearly a year and I just found it in my drafts last night lol! anyway, this started as a challenge to myself where I wanted to see if I could write something with only five lines of dialogue, and I'm curious to hear how you all think it turned out! as always, requests are open! check out my request guidelines before submitting! and if you’ve made it this far, thank you so much for reading!

everyone who requested to be tagged: @idyllcy @wicked-laugh @ul4lume

Send me some feedback, or request to be added to my taglist! (please specify which taglist you’d like to be added to- character or general) !Requests: OPEN!

buy me a ko-fi!

#dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson angst #dick grayson fluff #dick grayson fanfic #dick grayson fanfiction #nightwing #nightwing x reader #nightwing imagine #nightwing fluff #dc titans #dc imagine #dc comics imagine #dick grayson x y/n #dick grayson x you #nightwing x you #nightwing x y/n

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acepalindrome · 11 days

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SDV QoL Mod Recommendations

(1.6 Edition!)

Some years ago I made a big list of some of my favorite Stardew Valley mods, because I am a mod gremlin and there are so many fun and cool things you can do with your game! Modding has changed a lot since then. Some of the old mods have been abandoned and aren’t compatible with 1.6, and lots of new ones are popping up all the time to help keep this 8 year old game fresh and interesting! So I’ve put together a list of mods that currently work with 1.6. Since there are so, SO many mods, I’m just going to list quality of life mods for now. Let me know if you guys are interested in recommendations for expansions, cosmetics and other fun stuff!

Firstly, if you’re new to Stardew modding and don’t know how to start, I highly recommend checking out Salmence’s How to Add Mods video on YouTube. He walks you through all the steps and makes it very easy to get the hang of it! And without further ado:

The Mods

UI Info Suite 2: I’m new to this mod, but now that I’ve got it, I’m not sure how I lived without it! It does so much! It shows your daily luck, any birthdays, if it’s going to rain tomorrow, when tools are ready with Clint, when the traveling cart is in town and more! It also shows the range of your sprinklers, scarecrows, bee houses and junimo huts, and if you mouse over your crops, it shows when they’re ready for harvest! Super useful, and the daily icons are small enough that they don’t feel intrusive. I usually get all my mods from Nexus because it’s easy and reliable, so I had put off trying this one since it’s only on GitHub. I absolutely should have tried it ages ago.

NPC Map Locations: Shows where everyone is on the map. No more running around trying to figure out where someone is to give them a birthday gift! This is an essential mod for me, it’s such a simple but good improvement!

Look Up Anything: This one basically eliminates the need to have the wiki open in another window. Virtually everything in the game can be clicked on to give you more information. Mouse over Shane and press a button to see his birthday, how many hearts he has and how many points to the next heart, and all loved and liked items (with items you have on hand highlighted!) Select the hardwood in your inventory to see how many you have total (including storage you don’t have on hand,) everything it can be used for and how many you need for each thing, so you know how many you need! Almost everything can be selected to give more information!

Visible Fish: Useful AND pretty! It shows all the fish currently available to catch swimming in the water, so you don’t spend ages trying to catch something that doesn’t spawn at a certain place or time! Also it just looks really nice. I love seeing the fish in the river when I’m just passing by!

FriendsForever: Eliminates friendship decay, so people don’t hate me if I forget to talk to them for half a year! Also works on animals, so I can ignore my pigs all winter and they still love me.

To-Dew: You can make a to-do list that will appear on the screen and can be marked off as you complete different tasks. No more will I take a trip to town for seeds and forget that I also wanted to donate to the museum and give Caroline a daffodil! You can also set items to be reoccurring on certain days of the week, if you want to remind yourself to look for forage on Saturday, or make Thursday your designated day to empty and refill your kegs. Very customizable! I also like to make lists of all the seeds I want to buy every season.

TreeTransplant: Robin can now move trees around your farm just like she moves buildings! I’m really bad at planning my tree placement, and it’s so frustrating to have to cut down full grown trees to change my farm layout. Now you can move trees anywhere!

Fishing Made Easy Suite/Combat Made Easy Suite: I love these mods over others that make fishing/combat easier because you can decide the exact degree you want to make things easier! You can make fishing anywhere from 5% easier to 99% easier, if you want to just take the edge off the difficulty, or make it impossible to fail a fish. You can take just a little less damage from monsters to make the Skull Cavern less daunting, or become unkillable and oneshot everything. They also have options to do fun things like put legendary fishing in fish ponds or craft magic rock candy. You can also make things harder, if that’s what you want!

Automate: Machines can pull items from chests, process them, spit them back out into the chest and pull in the next item automatically, without you having to do anything! It can be a little op early on, but it’s super handy when you have a million machines to keep track of. I especially like it for things that have shorter processing times. I can stick a chest of ore and coal next to some furnaces and let it do its thing! Or put a bait machine, recycle machine, crab pot and chest all together. The crab pots will empty and refill every day from the bait generated by the bait machine, deposit fish and trash into the chest, and any trash will be processed by the recycling machine! There are tons of fun ways to combine different machines!

TimeSpeed: Lets you stop, slow or speed up time! You can select time to freeze at certain locations (I like time to stop when I’m inside a building, like in old farming games,) set time to move slower or faster in general, or press a button to change it on the fly!

That’s all I have for now! Links will be coming in a reblog because tumblr is weird about posting links sometimes. Let me know if you’d like recommendations for other kinds of mods, like cosmetic mods, expansions, stuff that adds items or changes dialogue! I love to share the cool mods I find!

#stardew valley #sdv #long post

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a-nemoiia · 2 months

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「 Crystal blue 」

・Johnatha Crane x Reader・

Summary: At the end of the night, the hard working professor seeks comfort in his sweetheart's arms

Words count: 513

Warnings: None (I apologise in advance for any mistakes)

The clock on the wall showed 02:00 in the morning, it was past midnight when the woman sleeping started to stir as she heard movements outside the bedroom door. With a squeak the closed door opened, and the man still dressed in his work attire stepped inside.

In the dim light, he glanced over at the figure sleeping in the bed. A smile tugged on his lips when he noticed that she wore one of his shirts to sleep, despite his half hearted protests, she still did... and he loved it, he loved it more than he dared to admit even to himself.

On quite feet, as to not disturb her, he set down his mask and glasses on the nightstand and made his way to the bathroom. As always, a shower was needed to wash away the dirt and grim of the night. After all he'd never sleep by his precious girl's side without ridding himself of the remnant of his enemies' fear that clung to his skin.

Stepping away from the hot water, with a towel tied loosely around his waist, he paused infront of the foggy mirror, the tired man recognised the crystal blue eyes staring back at him... her favourite part of him.

The same eyes he once avoided looking at no longer bothered him, because that was before her.

before that day in the library..

"I've never seen eyes quite like yours before!" the girl said, her voice cutting through the silence enveloping the library, distracting him from the book in his hand.

At first he frowned, not sure what to make of this remark, until she smiled "They're fascinating... may I take a photo?" she asked, with her camera in one hand and a popsicle in the other, the girl waited eagerly for his approval, her gaze unwavering, and the cold professor couldn't find it in him to say no.

How would he when she stood there looking like the most beautiful being he had ever seen?

Walking out of the bathroom, Jonathan slowly slipped underneath the covers, joining her in the bed she kept warm in his absence, seeking comfort in her embrace away from the darkness he had to face every night, and she wasted no time nestling herself in his chest.

Inhaling his familiar sent, a sigh of contentment escaped her lips at the feeling of his arms wrapping protectively around her small frame."What was it this time?" she asked, In a drowsy voice, and a smile displayed itself on Jonathan's face before he spoke against her hair, "Musophobia... fear of mice" he answered her, just like he did every night when she asked the same question, curious about the adventures he led as his alter ego 'Scarecrow'.

His soft response elicited a hum of satisfaction from the sleepy girl in his arms,"That's a new one...tomorrow, I'll add it to my journal" she murmured, soothed by the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, as sleep started to claim her once again.

For all his intelligence, Jonathan didn't know luck until the day he met her.

#jonathan crane #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane x you #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy x y/n #jonathan crane fanfic #jonathan crane imagine #scarecrow #scarecrow x reader #scarecrow x you

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 6 months

Note

5k is so deserved! I constantly go back and reread your works and am always looking forward to what’s next ❤️❤️❤️

I’ve been having thoughts about a Hesh x femreader reunion request thats similar to your latest Keegan piece. Except reader was childhood friends with the Walker boys, but despite there being feelings between Hesh and reader they’re scared of confessing because of their friendship. they get separated when Odin happens, and both join the military and reunite during a joint Op with the Ghosts and readers team, and even after 10 years their feelings resurface and finally get together.

Can’t wait to see what you’ll write for all the requests!!

—To The Boy of My Childhood

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [Ten years came and went fast, but the memory of the Walker boys stayed. One more than the other. You never got to tell him you loved him.] ❞

You remembered his kindness, above all. His big, pure, heart. Hesh wasn’t just someone you grew to know and then threw out like a pair of old socks, no, he was too good for that—a mix of playful boyishness and the makes of a fine man. You wished you could have told him how much he meant to you before it all just fell apart.

Growing up near the Walker boys was a treat and a curse, not for yourselves, but for the adults—no one got in the way of you three. Late nights in the backyard, laughter keeping everyone up into the small hours. The fights and the near-instantaneous make-ups.

The older years of deep-rooted attraction to the green-eyed boy of your youth.

David Hesh Walker had been everything you had ever wanted, and even when the ground shook and the word split, you still couldn’t tell him how you felt. But fate had plans for the two of you—it was only a matter of time.

Ten years, to be exact.

You jump down from the helo, your knees taking the brunt of the weight from your gear as your team follows. Fort Santa Monica was a bustling stronghold right on the door of Federation occupation—enemies stalking like animals beyond the wall for a glimpse of weakness. The men and women here were anything but.

“On me!” You call out behind you, and the resounding rush of booted feet follows as you all move out along the helicopter pad swiftly. The unit you were assigned was given a simple task—assist the commanding Captain here and his men with wall defense to reduce the amount of casualties.

Over the ten years of war, you’d honed yourself into something akin to a walking weapon. Found deliriously surviving in the remnants of the USA, your rage and anger gave you the skills you needed to still be alive when the soldiers found you; brought you back to civilization. It hadn’t taken much for you to sign up after that, thinking Hesh and his brother were dead.

Hesh. God, you had loved him so much that the feeling hadn’t dimmed in the slightest even now. Being so close to home once more made you feel…strange.

“Lieutenant!” One of the soldiers comes up to greet you all, shouting above the whir of blades—he was an older man with a shaved head and a large beard. “Welcome to Santa Monica!”

“Good to be here!” You call, a rifle hanging heavy on your chest. “Where do you need us, Sir?”

“Fall in, I’m bringin’ you to Scarecrow!” So you follow, leaving the sandy beach of the port and heading into the dense streets. There were civilians in this Fort, you knew, just beyond the checkpoint of fences. You have to wonder how they felt about this—trapped in a rat cage with the water and the war clamping to them tightly.

“Heard your unit was well-known.” You’d learned the man’s name was Thomas Merrick—a Captain here. You blink at him, head tilting. “Scarecrow was eager to get you here, can’t say why.”

“I was told you needed support at the wall, Captain,” you explain, brows furrowing. “Were my superiors mistaken?”

Merrick's brown eyes stare at you as you walk beside him, your men all speaking to one another from behind.

“No,” is all you’re told.

This ‘Scarecrow’ was known as only that, and your lips thin at the comment leveled at you. Strange.

Your other men are shown their barracks, and you send them off to get rid of their packs and belongings while you continue on with Merrick to the control room—eager to meet this Captain and get real answers.

When you get there, the second you push open the door and Merrick takes his leave, you’re greeted by one of the old faces that you could recognize anywhere.

You freeze just three feet into the room, locking eyes with this mythical ‘Scarecrow’ but it wasn’t some great war strategist, at least, not as you know him.

“Mr. Walker?” You pause, blinking in confusion. Elias Walker—Hesh and Logan’s dad. Your heart constricts in your chest.

He looks at you, a small smile on his stern face as his arms crossed, nodding his head.

“Thought I recognized that name in my request for transfers.”

“Holy shit,” you breathe, a grin breaking out over your face for the first time in ages. Part of you wanted to race and hug him—bathe in the comfort that his rare soft looks would bring you when you were younger…but you weren’t that kid anymore. Being alive was enough, and with the things you’d seen, it meant far more than anything else. Elias seemed to share that sentiment, as he walked over and put a hand on your shoulder, squeezing it.

“How did…how are…” Your head shakes quickly, memories flooding back along with the pain. But there, in your chest, a flicker of hope—something more blooming back to life. “Logan?” Your voice is tiny, pleading as you pause, gazing into Elias’s eyes. “...Hesh?”

“I already called ‘em back in. They’ll be here soon.” He gives you a proud nod. “I’m glad you’re still here, Sweetheart.”

You laugh, smile wobbling.

Alive. Hesh was alive.

Every wall you’d built falls the second boyish laughter echoes out from the halls. You turn, hearing feet move down the floor, closer and closer as your body stills like a statue.

Alive.

When a shoulder pushes open the door, you stop breathing as a far older David enters the room, Logan, as always, not far behind.

He’s mature now, with a beanie over his short brown hair and the presence of a grown man holding down responsibilities—he was smirking back and his brother, saying in a voice that haunts your dreams, “Think we should tell him what Riley found today, Logan?”

The younger brother stops short, locks eyes with you, and his body goes as tight as a fishing line.

Hesh’s brows furrow. “Logan?” He turns to you and those green eyes go confused for a moment, lips going thin. It’s a flash of recognition that re-ignites them—a flicker of something long past before they snap wide with fierce realization.

Blinking quickly, the man watches you, hands at his sides jerking forward by a millimeter as if to grab for you at even a single glance. No one speaks for a long, long time, and maybe you don’t want them to. Hesh and you are locked in a look of pure pain and elation—a dance of life and death.

There aren’t any words for it beyond the sudden mad scramble for the other’s hold.

You collide in a sharp breath and a hand to the back of your head—keeping you to him as you both grasp for purchase; for a glimpse of your childhood back.

“Jesus Christ,” Hesh breathes, anchoring you to him as his chest sputters. “Oh my fucking God.”

“Hesh,” you whimper through a sobbing laugh. “You son of a bitch, I should throttle you.”

He scoffs wetly into your ear, hands quivering and voice cracking.

“Me? If I remember, Doll, you were the one to take that tumble down the hill—I…I tried to find you, y’know that? I swear, I didn’t want to leave but I—”

You pull back and slam your lips to his.

It was far better than an ‘I love you’ when he melted and grappled you closer.

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lord-of-the-prompts · 1 year

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HORROR/THRILLER/SUSPENSEFUL STORY SETTINGS AND PLOT IDEAS:

[Feel free to use any prompt that shouts out to you! I would very much appreciate a tag if you post a story that was inspired by a prompt of mine! Happy writing everyone!]

amusement park (where the ride breaks down with everyone trapped on them, and there is a killer loose in the park…)

art gallery (where paintings trap visitors inside the frame and force them relive the scene the painting was based on...)

aquarium (where the protagonist gets trapped inside one of the shark tanks...)

basement (where the basement floods, there’s no way out, and there’s something weird swimming in the water…)

blood bank (where a blood bank is run by a vampire cult…)

board game cafe (where a group of teenagers are forced to play a game of snakes and ladders in real life, with real snakes and real ladders…)

bunker (where the captor holds his victim hostage in an old bunker and convinces the girl that he is protecting her from a world apocalypse…)

car (where a taxi driver picks up the wrong person and fears he may never live to tell the tale…)

castle (where the gargoyles come to life and attack the royal family…)

circus (where everyone who is hypnotized by the magician turns into a member of his unholy cult…)

desert (where a group of travellers are swept away by a sand storm and wake up in a haunted oasis…)

dungeon (where the visitors pay to torture subjects and the subjects are paid to be tortured…)

farmhouse (where the scarecrow comes to life and attempts to create a new body for himself with the farming family’s bodies…)

forest (where a lone hiker is caught in a bear trap in the woods and unable to escape, the bear is close by…)

graveyard (where the dead buried at the local cemetery come back to life and all the living people in the town die, except for you…)

haunted house (where a house manages to kill anyone who enters it…)

hotel (where the concierge is a vampire with a thirst for his visitors’ blood…)

house (where the family home falls into a sinkhole that leads straight to hell…)

island (where a new species of insect is discovered, and when the travellers get bitten, they start mutating into bugs…)

jungle (where a group of explorers start disappearing one by one during a rescue mission deep in the jungle…)

library (where the ghost of character killed off in a series haunts anyone who reads the book…)

military base (where a group of soldiers end up face to face against their canines who have somehow turned into werewolves…)

opera house (where the killer murders the musicians with their instruments...)

operating theatre (where an unwilling subject wakes up part way through the operation and is unable to move no matter how hard they try...)

prison (where the inmates are released from their cells and the officers are locked up in their place, leaving them at the complete mercy of the prisoners…)

psychiatric ward (where patients are forced to fight to the death in padded cells…)

pyramid (where archeologists discover an ancient tomb and unleash an ancient curse…)

railroad (where a cowboy spends his final hours repenting his sins as he lays tied to a railroad track…)

research centre (where the subjects loose the ability to either see, hear, or speak…)

sewer (where a family takes cover in the sewers when a nuclear missile is headed towards the city…)

shipwreck (where divers explore an ancient shipwreck, but the pirates are very much still alive and do not take well trespassers…)

space (where there is an explosion on ship leaving the crew without enough oxygen, there are only four extra tanks left, but there are six people…)

submarine (where there's an unknown killer aboard and no way to escape the deep ocean...)

tavern (where a knight is seduced and kidnapped by a handmaid who plans on avenging he sisters murder in the most heartless of ways…)

underwater (where evil merpeople kidnap scuba divers...)

university (where a group of students engineers create an artificial intelligence that goes rogue and attempts to create a real life body out of human remains…)

virtual reality (where virtual reality becomes a true reality, and to escape, 10 players have to survive all levels of the game, but after every level, the loser dies…)

zoo (where the animals turn into zombies and attack their abusers…)

#writing prompt #writing ideas #writing tips #creative writing #writers of tumblr #writers block #writing things #writing #writing advice #prompt list #horror #thriller #suspense

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l3viat8an · 7 months

Note

HWAAAAHHH HEY ROOOOO ♡

A not so quick thought I've been dying to shareeeee ahhhhh

Omg- so yk how Mc has that long table in their room??? Imagine setting up a craft station each week for the boys to do a lil craft.

Beel, Asmo, Dia, Simeon and Luke are super excited for crafting. Barbie, Mamms and Levi are excited too even if they won't admit it. But Luci, Satan and Belphie need a little bit of convincing. They're not children! But after your first successful chaotic crafting session they start to like it.

𖥸 Luci is surprisingly artistic. Even if it seems silly, this little crafting session is very relaxing and it gives him time to bond with his brothers. He likes to follow the model closely first before experimenting a little bit with his technique and style

𖥸 Mamms + Levi are trying to 1 up each other the whole time. They will hate on each other's projects and will fight over supplies. Mammon will swipe the scissors from Levi mid-cut even though there are 5 other pairs currently not being used. Then Levi will try to get them back and a fight will break out. Mc has to use "stay" before Levi summons Lotan.

𖥸 Satan bbg I'm so sorry. He will make something beautiful that he's proud of but it will get ruined. He'll just be putting the finishing touches on his craft when Levi and Mammon's fight will cause something to ruin it. A paint cup got knocked over and now there's paint water soaking his hard work. Or the glitter got spilled and now there's sparkly bits clinging to the undried glue. Mc is gonna have to use "stay" again to keep him from wringing his older brothers' necks.

𖥸 Asmo's crafts can be described in one word. Shiny. He's using all the glitter, gold leaf and sequins available to him. He especially likes those gold and silver detailing pens. But don't mistake sparkly for tacky because even if his crafts are sparkly they are still tasteful.

𖥸 Beel + Belphie will make adorable little projects but Beel will try to eat the supplies duh. Please for the love of Dia get the nontoxic supplies. He can't help it though. That shade of pink looks just like a poison strawberry tart and the colors Simeon mixed look exactly like Madam Scream's Macarons! He just wants a little taste. Belphie will be busy trying to stop him from drinking paint. If he keeps a few extra snacks on hand then it will keep Beel at bay.

𖥸 Diavolo is just absolutely enamored by all the cool crafts. Like woah you made that little scarecrow!? And you made a pom pom pumpkin? He's so excited to try out all the crafts and is that one weirdo that is absolutely covered in 8 different colors of paint somehow even though he only used white.

𖥸 Barbatos will also create the most gorgeous crafts. Like excuse me sir, you're telling me you made that out of construction paper, pipe cleaners and popsicle sticks???? There ain't no way. 100% the chillest crafter at the table but he will snap Mammon and Levi's necks if any of the mishaps of their fight ruins his project.

𖥸 Simeon and Luke will probably work together on a craft. Like Asmo's projects, Simeon and Luke will add lots of pastel colors and shiny bits to their project mostly in the form of gold flakes or those metalic paint pens.

𖥸 Solomons crafts are similar to his cooking. They never end up being what was intended. Like today we're making kites and - Uhhh Solomon made an abstract Mona Lisa with construction paper shapes?? Alright then... You do you man

HIIII CHERRY!!! Omgg okay- this is all so cute <3 finally giving that silly table a good use too jsjsjsj besides homework 💀

Lucifer being good at everything doesn’t even surprise me anymore- but he’s genuinely very into it and it’s nice to see him try to relax and do something with his brother that’s just for fun!!!

Mammon + Levi- I wouldn’t expect anything else honestly- those two can’t stop for five minutes and they almost ruin it for everyone. (Until MC calms them down and fixes everything) also the fact Levi’s better at traditional drawing them Mammon is probably another reason they fight hskshsj

Poor Satan. Tho depending on how annoying Levi & Mams have been it might be fine to let Satan smack them up a bit- jkjk bad idea ik- MC needs to help him calm down and maybe start a new project together? (That’ll at least perk Satan up and piss off Levi ‘n Mammon which again will make Satan feel better :))

The first thing Asmo used was a pick glitter gel pen and his artwork is absolutely gorgeous~ (definitely something super shiny!!! but still gorgeous and he’s careful to stay at the other end of the table away from Levi and Mammon helpsjsj)

All the supplies have to be non-toxic and absolutely no one can try drawing or making anything resembling food- Also just imagine Belphie taking the paint water away from Beel and putting it by his drink….so a little later sleepyhead accidentally drink some instead lolol also anything Belphie actually makes looks like it’s out of a horror movie while Beel’s is just…abstract :)

Diavolo’s feels like a callout as the kid who was always covered in paint but he’s so happy with his little somewhat lumpy pompom and little painting!! Just look at his sweet smile!!!

Barbatos doesn’t even need to threaten Mammon or Levi- they take one look his way and see that smile and know they better knock it off and behave- also how??? Sir it’s gorgeous but how??? Hell he probably made a fully functioning little model of MC XD

Simeon and Luke are adorable as always!! It’s definitely something sweet, yet a little more simple, but still very cute! The shiny bits are perfect and they definitely made it with the intention of gifting it to MC when they’re done <3

Solomon……Solomon wtf why?….you could’ve drawn a stick man and it would’ve been better that…uhhh that- But he’s happy!! Also very, very proud of it and when you ask what it’s supposed to be he looks a little offended-

#awhwhwhw I loved this sm <3 #not a super crafty bitch myself but with these dummies it would be ✨fun✨#obey me!#obey me #om!#obmswd #obey me fluff #om! fluff #obmswd fluff #obey me shall we date #obey me shenanigans #obey me headcanons #om! hcs #om! headcanons #obmswd hcs #obmswd headcanons #ro rambles #moot mail!

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spencers-abit-weebish · 1 year

Text

Teasing

XxX

Warning(s): 141 Being unintentional bullies, Mention of burn scars from fire fighting, slight age gap

The One Where:

Pairing: Price x Fem!Reader

A/n: Reader is described as being small both in height and stature but has a past as a firefighter so they're super buff but its hidden under baggy clothes

W/c:

xXx

You grunt as you set your fellow solider down on the ground against the tire of the Humvee. You quickly take a small oxygen tank out of your bag attaching it to his face before grabbing a towel and your canteen of water wiping the ash and cynder off his face. You look back at the burning building you just pulled him out off.

"C'mon, lets get back to the safehouse" Blaze says helping you pick up the new team member and help him into the vehicle.

"Price, are you good to drive?" You ask. You look back seeing the Captain with a half assed bandage around his hand helping his own teammate stand up.

"Sparky help them I'll drive" Blaze says. You nod helping your teammate into the Humvee first before helping Ozone in.

"Get in" You told Price who nods as you climb into the Humvee after Ozone. You glance back at the burning building seeing whatever Shadows were still alive trying to get out as Blaze starts to drive off.

xxx

"You did good out there Sparky" Price says patting your back.

"I'm only as good as my mentor" You told him as you tended to the slice he had on his hand.

"I can't take all the credit, Blaze's known you longer" He said gesturing to your commander who was patching up one of your comrades. You smile shrugging as you caught Blaze's attention.

"Blaze, celebratory drinks after this right?" You asked.

"Of course, that's a stupid question" Blaze chuckles. You smile rolling your eyes as you finish bandaging up Price's hand.

"You're coming with us, no questions asked" You told him.

"Oh I shouldn't, I have my own task force I should get back to" Price said gesturing to the few Bravo Team members he has brought with him for this mission.

"Please, we never get to see eachother John, I'd really like to be able to hangout with you" You begged. John chuckles as he tries to ignore your puppy dog eyes.

"I guess I can go back tomorrow" He said making you cheer. "Ozone, Druid, Scarecrow, you guys can go ahead and head back to the command base, I'll be there tomorrow" Price said.

"You sure Cap?" Ozone asked.

"Yeah, let Ghost know he's in charge of Soap and Gaz though, I don't want 2 am calls of those two getting into petty fights in the commons" Price said making the three other soldiers chuckle as they grab their bags and left. Price smiles softly as he watches you start to take off your tactical gear. "You got out of there without a scratch" He notes.

"I was a fire fighter Price, I know how to dress for occasion and avoid injury, and we both know I'm good at my job" You smile taking your layers of masks and goggles off. When you roll up your sleeves though Price’s eyes move to the notable burn scar on your inner forearm, right over top where you used to have a tattoo. “Okay this was a rookie mistake and not my fault because the uniform Blaze gave me was too big and in the way” You say.

“Oh I believe you” Price chuckles.

“It was one time give me a break, we have the same scar anyways kid” Blaze says his sleeves already rolled up as he patched up his solider.

"I could use someone like you on my team, you know” Price says flexing his hand that you had just bandaged.

"Thanks John, that means a lot to me" You told him as you grabbed a wet wipe wiping your face from its greasepaint and cinder

"I'm serious darling, you know I only want the best of the best" He says.

"You are my best Y/n" Blaze comes up from behind you tossing an arm over your shoulder.

Blaze used to be your captain back when you were both firefighters, if anything he was the one that convinced you to join him in the military, becoming part of the SAS. From there during basic training he had introduced you to Price where you had immediately become attached to the older man.

"What are you trying to get at here?" You smiled looking up at the two older men.

"I'm asking you to join my task force Y/n" John chuckles.

"I'm giving him my blessing" Blaze adds.

"i- are you sure?" You ask taking a seat next to John.

"Sparks, you're my best soldier, and Price only wants the best of the best. As not only your commander, but you're friend, I really think you should do this" Blaze says arms crossed over his chest soft smile on his face.

"I would really mean alot to me if you joined us, be my second lieutenant" Price nudges you softly.

"Let me think about it John, and I'll get back to you," You smile softly resting your head on his shoulder.

xxx

"You better treat them right Price, because I will hunt you down if I need to" Blaze said.

"I know sir"

"Sparky, don't forget you always have a home here, and don't hesitate to let me know if the 141 is giving you a hard time because i will go up there and start handing out cans of ass-whooping" He says making you laugh. Blaze picks you up as he hugs you.

"Price, friendly reminder that I'm ranked higher than you and will kill you and your men if I need to, take care of my kid" Blaze threatens John one more time making you laugh.

"I'm just transferring team Blaze it's not like I'm getting married" You laugh teasingly shoving him away from you.

"Not yet my little Spark" Blaze says patting your head as if you're a child.

"Bye Blaze,” You say loudly at him grabbing John’s arm and dragging him away with your things. “Lets go before he embaresses me anymore" You whisper quietly to Price as you both head to his car. He laughs his hand on your lower back guiding you to his vehicle.

It took you one week to agree to join Price's team, it took less than 24 hours for the transfer to be complete due to Blaze having done all the paperwork for you ahead of time. Price took it upon himself to drive to you to pick you up and take you to the 141 command base. It was only a few hours distance but it still meant alot to you that he went through that effort.

Price set your bags in the back before opening the passenger door for you. He helps you climb into the truck before closing the door.

The ride was filled with mostly small talk, catching up on the few months the two of you had missed apart.

“What do you bring with you that you have so many bags?” Price asked glancing at the backseat.

“I live in the barracks John, I don’t have my own place” You reminded him.

“Still, I thought you were going to go out and look for a place last year?” He said.

“I thought about it but I spend so much time working it’s pretty much pointless, and you know my mother and sisters all pretty much disowned me when I decided to go into ‘a man’s career’ so there’s no point in finding a place close to home since there’s no one to go home to and I pretty much work 365 days a year” You said.

“Well that would explain how you managed to climb the ranks so fast Sparks, I’m proud of you, but I will say when I tell you to take a leave you’re taking it, I don’t care where you go but I want you to take a vacation” He orders making you laugh.

“I’ll only go if you do, seems fair” You tease making him chuckle. You head your arm rested on the center console and smile when John sets his arm next to yours, his pinky linked with yours making you smile down at them before looking out the window.

When the two of you arrived to the 141 Command Base there were a few soldiers outside waiting for Price. Your hand went to the handle to get out of the car until John stops you.

“Don’t you dare open that bloody door” Price scoffs at you making you laugh as you let go of the door handle. You smile as he gets out running around the front opening the door for you helping you out. The truck was fairly high off the ground and your civilian boots didn’t give you the height that your tactical boots did. You watched as the three soldiers that were waiting for Price were whispering to each-other as John helped grab your bags out of the back.

“Y/n these are a few of my men, Sergeants Kyle Garrick and John MacTavish better known as Gaz and Soap, and that is Lieutenant Ghost you’ll meet the rest of the team tomorrow morning along with some privates we’re training” John introduced.

“It’s great to meet you all I’m Lieutenant Y/n L/n but you can call me Sparky” You smiled kindly waving at the group of men who stared at you in shock. Before anyone could say anything Price had dragged you off to show you your room in the barracks.

“Oh they’re definitely shagging” Soap said.

“They have to be, I’ve never seen Price act like that towards anyone, not even his wife when they were still together” Gaz said before the two of them looked over at Ghost.

“I’m not agreeing with you,” Ghost says before he starts to walk off. “But I’m not disagreeing”

xxx

“Stop” You squeak as John laughs holding up a picture out of your reach. The picture was of your college graduation just a few years prior when you had gotten your PhD. John, Blaze, and a few of your friends had attended the ceremony but the picture that you chose to keep framed was of you standing standing with Price his arm around your waist while Blaze stood behind you both like a proud father.

While Blaze and Price weren’t far off in age with each-other Blaze was the protective older brother you always wanted. Price on the other hand, he made you happy.

“I’m just teasing Sparks here” Price chuckles handing you the picture, you flush as you set it down on your desk before taking out another picture setting it on your nightstand. John took a glance and the first picture was of your fire unit back home. He chuckles softly opening your bag of clothes putting them on hangers.

“You really love your teams don’t you?” He asked seeing you also had a picture of your former task force.

“Of course I do, I mean, back with the fire guys, Cap was the best father figure I ever had, and Blaze is like my older brother, they were my first family" You explained. John smiles softly to himself before closing your closet door and shoving the duffle bag under the bed with the rest.

"Well I hope you see the 141 as a family" John says as he sits down at your desk while you sat on the bed falling back.

"This bed is really comfy" You chuckle.

"I'm glad, now get some rest Sparks, I'll meet you down at the field in the morning" John patted your knee his hand lingering for a moment before he go up and left.

xxx

0500 sharp you were out of bed lacing up your boots and grabbing your PT jacket. You made it out to the field no later that 0510 waiting for the soldiers to all get there. You had gotten them all some protein bars and waters just incase along with Tylenol since Price had mentioned that they had recently come back from a mission a few days before you had gotten there and some of the soldiers were still sore.

“There she is, how’d you sleep Sparks” John asked walking up to you a few of his soldiers trailing behind him. You reached an arm up to him since you had been stretching on the ground. John pulled you up tossing an arm around your shoulders.

“Hey, I slept great my room here is so much better than the one I had back at my old base” You said.

“Probably because Price spent a week making changes to it” Gaz quietly whispered to Soap who nodded.

“So Sparky tell us about yourself, why that call sign?” Soap asked.

“I used to be a firefighter” You explained.

“Aren’t you too small to be a firefighter?” Soap teased. You inhaled sharply at the comment but decided to ignore it.

“Hey are those firefighter competitions real?” Gaz asked.

“Yeah, not every district participates on them though, but my Captain was very, exentric so in our case we never missed one” You explained causing both boys to share looks before they started laughing.

“Here’s the rest of the team Sparks” John changed the topic of conversation as he introduced you to the others.

Meeting the team wasn’t as exciting as you thought it would be. First of all, you were the only girl on the 141. Second of all, ontop of being the only girl, not everyone was open to obeying your orders, not when they had big bad Ghost to listen to. Third of all, the teasing, and it wasn’t as much teasing as it was back handed compliments and passive aggressive statements.

As the months passed with you being part of the team you thought things would progress, but it seemed as John was the only person on the team that respected you. But even he was blind to the way everyone treated you.

“You’re not as dumb as you look” Ghost says after you had offered an alternative plan to get out of the building unrecognized by the enemy soldiers.

“I like how you don’t care what people think of you, that’s a nice trait to have” Gaz says after you explained why you had met up with them at the bar looking the way you did.

“I never would’ve pegged you for for a fire fighter even less baseball team in High-school. My guess would’ve been choir or band kid, and I don’t maybe a teacher” Soap said still in disbelief that you used to be a firefighter and part of your high schools baseball team.

Ozone, Druid, and Scarecrow were really the only ones that treated you with the slightest bit of respect only because they worked with you on the field before and have followed your orders. But even they could be a bit insufferable at times.

“What’s going on between you and the Captain, are you two shagging?” Druid asked as he sat with you in the mess hall. You rolled your eyes getting up tossing your meal and heading to John’s office.

“Ya’know I think the only reason Sparky’s even with us is cause she’s sleeping with the Captain” Ozone told Scarecrow.

“You think? I mean she is pretty bad ass” Scarecrow said.

“Yeah but just look at how Cap treats her, he treats her so much more differently than the rest of us” Ozone said.

The straw that broke the camels back was on a mission. A bad one at that.

“Shit! Duck for cover!” John said grabbing you by your vest and pulling you towards him. Everyone nearby ducked as the building exploded and collapsed.

“Are you okay?” You asked him.

“Yeah you?” He asked. You nodded your head as you kept moving.

“We need to rendezvous John I don’t like it here” You told him.

“I know, but we need to catch him Sparks” John said. You nodded your head as you shot down a few soldiers that rounded the corner.

“Price we got a problem, bad one” Soap could be heard over the comms.

“What is it?” Price asked making you stop.

“We have our target, and by we I mean Gaz. He’s trapped inside the burning building with him” Soap says causing you and John to look at the building that was on fire and on the verge of collapsing.

“Sparks” John says. You sigh heavily dropping your head.

“Toad, Archer I’m gonna make a run for it, cover me” You ordered hearing both men reply with ‘Yes ma’am’

“With all due respect Sparky I don’t think you’re gonna be able to get them” Soap starts coughing clearly indicating he’s probably in the mess trying to help.

“I’ve got the target but I can’t find Gaz” Ghost says coughing over the comms.

“Both of you get out of there now, that’s an order” You tell over the comms.

“C’mon Sparks, can’t be too *cough* bad, we’ve done worse things before” Soap chuckles.

“God damnit Soap I’m your fucking Lieutenant so you follow my god damn orders, I want you out of there now, the same goes for Ghost” You yell. You stop in your tracks as you see a portion of the building start to collapse.

“Sparks we-”

“That’s an order Soap” Price cut him off.

Once you made it you spring into action. You take off your backpack grabbing your ropes attaching them to your waist, clipping your axe to your thigh. You take out a few oxygen tanks setting them up before placing your gas mask over your face and going in.

Soap is the first person you find since he was on his way out.

“Go, there’s an oxygen tank waiting for you outside” You told him. He nods as he makes his way out finding Price outside with Druid. Price immediately slaps the mask over his face turning on the tank.

“Ghost! Gaz!” You call out.

“Over ‘ere” Ghost coughs. He has the target who’s already passed out. You climb over some fallen beams getting to him.

“Can you walk?” You asked.

“Yeah” he says. You grab the target with ease tossing him over your shoulder. You grab the Axe breaking the beam you had jumped over after making sure it couldn’t cause anymore damage and help Ghost out of the building.

You set the target down on the ground grabbing an oxygen tank putting it over his face. Soap takes off his mask handing it to Ghost who slightly lifts his balaclava so he can breath.

“I found our target at the bottom of some broken stairs” Ghost says. You nod your head.

“I’m going back in” You said going into your backpack pulling out a fire hydrant.

“You go in missions with all this in your bag all the time?” Soap asked.

“I was a fire fighter for 8 years, I’ll be damned if I’m not prepared for something like this” you said.

“Y/n!” John calls out before you run back into the burning building.

“Yeah?”

“Please be safe” He begs. You simply nod your head running inside calling out for Gaz. After sweeping the downstairs you see a flight of stairs that have toppled over. You climb up the stairs using the rope for support making your way to the second floor.

“Gaz!” You yell finding him by the window passed out. You kneel at his side taking off your gas mask slipping it on over his face. Your break the window looking out. “I have him, I’m sending him down” You said causing the rest of the 141 to nod, the ones that hadn’t made it to the rendezvous point had met up there after reassuring they they had taken down the rest of the enemy soldiers.

“Sparky?” Gaz said as he slowly regained consciousness.

“I got you big guy” You said lifting him up as if he weighs nothing. You helped him out of the broken window and slowly lowered him to the ground. Right as you were about to untie the rope from yourself to go ahead and jump out since the height wasn’t that far, the floor below you breaks.

“Y/n!” You hear John scream. You scream as below you is a fire just inches away from you. You cough as you pull yourself upright looking at where th floor was once above you.

“I’m alright!” You yell out as you cough again. Looking around you you start to climb the rope. You find your axe and fire hydrant not too far away from the edge of the hole.

“Keep the rope attached to Gaz, it’s the only thing keeping her out of the fire” Price orders. They all nod as they start attending to Gaz.

“Captain, we have a problem” Soap says taking the gas mask off of Gaz, it was the same one you were wearing. He slips the oxygen mask over the soldiers face.

“That’s not our only issue” Ghost says looking up at the window we’re the glass shards still attached to the frame we’re cutting into the rope due to your movements on the other side.

“Y/n get out of there!” Price yells into the burning building. When you didn’t respond he starts to worry. “Bloody hell, give me that” Price says taking the gas mask from Soap. He goes into your backpack in hopes of finding something to help him save you but grunts when he comes up empty. Price throws all common sense out the window as he runs into the burning building.

“Sparks!” He yells. He hisses when he gets too close to a fire his arm getting slightly burned.

“John” You croak back. He looks over and last the burning flames seeing you hanging between the first and second floor, holding onto the rope and what’s left of the second floor for dear life.

“I got you Sparks don’t worry” John says as he starts making his way towards the stairs.

“No it’s too dangerous, get out” You shout back as your lungs start to fill up with smoke.

“I’m not leaving you here Sparks” John shouts back as he jumps over the hole on the stairs his foot briefly getting stuck after creating another hole. He quickly scrambled up the stairs as they collapsed behind him. Without thinking he runs over to you stopping when you shoo him away.

“The floor’s becoming fragile get out of here before we’re both stuck” You cough.

“Y/n your rope is about to snap and that floor is about as stable as Ghost’s mental health, I’m not leaving you here” Price says. He looks around the room before finding some books. “I’m going to try to hit the fire hydrant towards you, think you can grab it?” He asked. You nod your head adjusting your grip before reaching forward for the hydrant. Price slides the first book across the floor, missing the hydrant but hitting the axe. You watch as it misses you but falls into the fire below.

“Damnit John that was my good axe” You complain.

“Sorry darling, it was in the way” John says before sliding the second book. John almost cries when he hits the fire hydrant but instead of going towards you it falls to its side and starts to roll off the edge of the flooring. “Y/n!” he yells when you let go of the floor reaching for the hydrant. Your body drops causing the force of your weight to snap the rope. John runs to where you were holding onto the broken wall for support as he looks into the hole on the floor. You’re on the ground spraying the fire around you and yourself in the process due to your clothing starting to burn. John sighs in relief as he slowly jumps down the hole to the first floor.

“Are you okay?” He asked taking off the gas mask putting it on your face.

“Yeah” You say slowly getting up. You check yourself seeing that while you had a few burns in your clothes you were fine. You and John walk out of the building seeing the target was now awake along with Gaz.

“Let’s get going” Price says as you start to pack up your bag with the exception of the two oxygen tanks.

“You won’t leave” The target mumbles.

“I just saved your ass so shut the fuck up” You growl at him.

Before anything else could be said, you felt a jabbing pain right on your lower back. Making you double over in pain. Gaz and Soap both copy your movements as they both get shot as well.

“Sparks” John as he pulled you off the the side the rest of the task force doing the same.

“I got it, I got it” You said pulling out two hand guns and your goggles. The team watches as you step out from the hiding spot and start to shoot, you earn yourself another bullet which causes John to cringe as he grabs his rifle. He stands behind you taking out the last couple of guys.

You sigh heavily leaning back on him his arm going around your waist.

“Can we please get out of here before my adrenaline goes down” You sigh heavily.

It took nearly an hour to get to the RV point due to most of the task force member having injuries and trouble breathing.

When you all got there, the teasing began again and you were finally fed up.

“I refuse to believe little ole’ Sparky actually pulled you all out of a burning building”

“You’re so small, how the hell did you carry a man twice your size out of there”

“Got yourself shot twice In the process how the hell did you even do that”

“That’s enough!” Price barks at them. He looks over at you noticing your adrenaline hasn’t gone down yet, only being fueled by your annoyance and anger.

“There goes Captain again defending his girl” You hear one soldier whisper to another, low enough that Price doesn’t catch it. You finally snap as you stand up from leaning against the nearest wall walking up to the soldier that towered over you.

“So what?” You say catching him off guard.

“Come again ma’am?” The solider says suddenly nervous he’s being put on the spot.

“No no, don’t start with formalities go ahead, say what you’ve been saying for the past year I’ve been with you all. Think I don’t hear your taunts and whispers? Go ahead, say that I’m too small, or too inexperienced, I’ll never be as good a Lieutenant as Ghost, I’m not smart enough to be here, I’m not big and bad like the rest of you, I’m Captain Price’s little whore, his toy and the only reason I’m standing here right now is cause we’re fucking” You said finally confronting the entirety of the 141. The men all got silent causing you to bitterly chuckle. “Now you all want to be quiet, good to know the kind of men you all are” You say as you start to load into the trucks.

Price sighs heavily telling everyone to load up. He climbs into the back of one of the trucks seeing you tending to your wounds. He’s in shock on how your adrenaline still hasn’t worn down.

“Can I?” He asked reaching out for the tweezers. You sigh heavily handing them to him. Gaz, Soap, Ghost, Druid, and the target are all loaded in behind you. Your target has a bag over his head and you had tranquilized him.

You watch as Scarecrow and Ozone get in the driver and passenger seat the rest of the team loading up on the other trucks. Due to your years as a firefighter you also had medical experience so you slowly and quietly coach John through the proper treatment of a bullet hole so you wouldn’t take up space in the infirmary at base.

“How about your back?” John asked as he finished bandaging your shoulder to your liking.

You hold up the bullet you carved out of your vest, “Another one for the collection” You joke. John chuckles as he sits himself next to you a hand placed on your thigh. A silence with tension unknown to you and John was made. Soap was the one that decided to break it.

“We’re sorry Sparky” He said. You look over at him watching him take off the oxygen mask giving it to Gaz to put it to his face. From the corner of your eye you arch Ghost drop his balaclava slipping the oxygen mask over the targets face.

“Go on” You said your voice becoming cold.

“We didn’t realize a lot what we said was bothering you, I mean we’re so used to the task force being all men and usually we like to tease the newbies but I guess we forgot that you’re not new” Soap says.

“That’s a shit apology Soap, don’t make excuses, I should write you up for the shit you all pulled” John said his voice harsh with his soldiers.

“I think what Soap is trying to say is that we felt excluded. Obviously we’ve worked by Price’s side for years and he’s been an amazing leader and friend to us. Then suddenly when you come around it’s all about you. We all got in our heads and started believing the rumors going on about you two so we just subconsciously started trying to hurt you” Gaz says handing the oxygen mask back to Soap.

“I’m a soldier to him just like the rest of you, the only reason John and I have a closer connection is cause he’s been with me since I was in basic training. He and my former commander Blaze were the only people to show up to graduation due to my family pretty much disowning me when I chose more masculine line of career” You explain.

“I don’t think that’s what they mean Darling” John sighs heavily. You look at him confused as he leans over his face in his hands.

“You know when my wife and I split up I was a mess,” He started. “I had to take a months leave to get my shit together and darling, you had no reason to be there for me and help me but you told Blaze you’ll be damned if you let me fall into a pit of depression on my own” He said.

“Sparky we’re sorry about the rumors but there is a reason we thought you and the Captain were sleeping together” Ozone said from the front.

“Yeah he treated you differently than he treated the rest of us, but Sparky, the man looks at you and follows you around like a lovesick puppy” Gaz says.

“Okay that’s enough I think she gets it” Price says causing the other men to chuckle. You smile leaning forward taking John’s hat off running your hands through his hair.

“Fuck you, I owe Blaze 50 pounds” You giggle.

“Excuse me?” John says.

“Before I came here he had bet me 50 pounds that part of the reason you wanted me on the task force was because you have a crush on me” You smile

“He wasn’t entirely wrong, but you are amazing darling, I mean you just saved my best men from a burning building, and I guess that bloody asshole too” Price said gesturing to the target who had his head thrown back on the wall drool falling from his lips.

“Is he going to be okay?” Soap asked.

“I think I injected him with enough tranq to take out a full grown horse,” You said. “He’ll be okay, I’d say one day in the infirmary and he should be okay for interrogation” Ghost nods his head taking the oxygen mask dropping the bottom half of the bag before lifting his own mask to breath again.

“Back to the topic on hand, we’re sorry Sparky, and thank you so much for saving our arses even though we’ve been horrible to you since you got here” Soap says all eyes landing on Ghost who hadn’t spoken a word since you saved him.

But the silent nod he gave you was enough for you to smile and accept their apologies. You grab the first aid kit as you move over tending to Soap and Gaz’s wounds.

“You know there’s not much I can say about Ghost but I hope you all know I’m in charge of PT this weekend, and I am petty enough to hold grudges even though I forgive you all” You smile wickedly as you bandage up Gaz since he only got grazed by the bullet on his leg.

“Oh we doubt your training can be worse than Ghost, he’s ruthless” Soap says earning him a glare from you that made him shut up. As you finish patching him up you take your seat next to John again.

“Ghost I expect you to follow Lieutenant Spark’s training this weekend, and if I hear a single complaint from any of you you’ll be on cleaning duty for a month” Price orders. The sound of Ghost hitting his head against the wall of the vehicle was enough satisfaction for you. You rest your hand atop John’s that was on your thigh again. You side eye him with a smile on your face as you link your fingers with his.

“Darling” John whispered to you.

“Yes dear?” You smile cheekily causing John to chuckle and turn pink.

“Did any of my comments ever bother you?” He asked.

“John, you’re the only man on this earth that can tease me and won’t get their head blown off” You said.

“Tease you- you say” John smirks.

#call of duty mwii #task force 141 #call of duty #call of duty mw2 #call of duty modern warfare 2 #john price #captain john price #john price x reader #price x reader #simon ghost riley #john mactavish #tf 141 #141 x reader #gaz garrick #Weebish.Price

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mangoisms · 10 months

Text

come back to bed, my love, my light is low

━ pairing: tim drake x f!reader

━ summary: Tim gets dosed with fear toxin and you are there to pick up the pieces.

━ word count: 3.3k

━ contains: established relationship, emotional hurt/comfort, non-sexual intimacy

━ a/n: technically takes place as an extension of my other tim fic, i'll be the dangerous ledge (you be the parachute), but prior reading is not required! title is from this song

━ you can read this on ao3 as well

Gotham has always had a fairly impressive rogue gallery.

You have limited knowledge of the other cities and their various rogues but you think Central City and Keystone City, the Gem Cities of the midwest of which the Flash is in charge of, are some who can match up to it.

But in the end, Gotham’s will always beat them out.

You have the Joker, indiscriminate in his havoc, truly, truly unpredictable and for no reason other than he simply wants to. You have Two-Face, fates decided upon the coin toss. You have Mr. Freeze, Black Mask, Poison Ivy, Mad Hatter, and so many more.

The Joker is the worst of them, though. That is the general consensus in the city.

But for you?

You have always found Scarecrow particularly unnerving.

Sure, the Joker has his clown thing going on but…

When you were a kid, during the fall, the town over from your own would host a Halloween festival. You could come down and pick pumpkins straight from the patches, take hay rides, drink apple cider, gorge on candy apples, and roam their corn maze.

At the shy age of seven, you ended up getting lost in the corn maze. Separated from your parents, from any other parents or remotely responsible figure, you wandered for some time, crying, terrified, thinking, in typical seven-year-old fashion, that you would be lost forever as the sun set, plunging you into darkness.

You remember accidentally stumbling into a Scarecrow, just a decoration for the maze, but it had seemed so lifelike with its hay-stuffed limbs and mean face scowling down on you.

That would be your boogeyman for a long while.

Eventually, the fear faded and you forgot about it.

Moving to Gotham gave it a little more life.

But it’s never been an issue.

Still isn’t. Not technically.

After all, you think, perched on your couch, anxiously watching the news, it’s not you currently barricaded in the water treatment plant with Scarecrow and a new batch of fear toxin, fighting to make sure he doesn’t release it into Gotham’s waters.

No, it’s Tim. The others.

But the fight is over. Cameras showing police officers with gas masks emerging from the warehouse with Scarecrow tucked between them, hands cuffed. His scarecrow mask is creepy as ever, scowl etched permanently in the rough material of the mask.

“Still no word on whether Scarecrow was able to contaminate Gotham’s water supply but we do see the few workers he had hostage are now being escorted out. Little is known about this new strand of fear toxin but tips to the GCPD say that it is able to be dispersed either as a liquid or a gas. Previously, the toxin was dispersed only as a gas, but it seems Scarecrow has upgraded to another venture of chaos.”

You drum your fingers on your thigh, eyes intent on the flatscreen. Trying to pick them out in the background. But Bruce does his best to keep Batman and the others out of media eye. At least here in Gotham. When it comes to the Justice League and the Titans, they have little choice. They’re officially sanctioned teams by the UN. Batman can’t be an urban legend there. None of them can.

Pictures here are blurry, though. Nothing more than grainy, shadow figures in the night. No stopping for interviews, no stepping into the light.

Outside? Well, you’ve seen literal Getty Image photos of Batman at a UN hearing with Wonder Woman and Superman, looking none too pleased about it all.

You’re not going to find them, is what you’re saying. But you try anyway. Amidst the sea of police cars, blue and red lights flashing in the night, reporters perched several feet away, debriefing their audiences.

Just another night in Gotham.

But not for you.

Your fingers itch to grab your phone. Tim assured you it would be fine as he unlocked the hidden room in your walk-in closet, the room reinforced by multiple layers of lead (Bruce insisted; Tim, annoyed, relented) and only accessible by fingerprint and retinal scans from him and you, as it is the room that holds his Red Robin gear, private servers, and other confidential items. The room you could hide away in if enemies ever managed to breach your stiff security protocols (installed and programmed by Tim this time) and the thick walls and bulletproof, bomb-proof, and heat vision proof windows of the apartment.

You’re safe as can be.

You don’t think the same can be said for Tim.

Even if he told you he would be fine. That Bruce and Damian are constantly mixing antidotes to the new strands of fear toxin and Joker venom that pop up. That Duke and Steph, both of whom have slowed in their vigilante duties like he has, are coming back on for this one. In addition to Cass and Bruce and Damian and Kate and more. The Birds were on standby, too.

You can’t help but worry anyway.

Just a feeling. A bad, bad feeling in the pit of your stomach.

The phone call you get in the next minute affirms it.

Caught up just as Scarecrow unleashed the toxin… Had given his own mask to another worker trapped there… Didn’t yet have an antidote… Only received one a few minutes later… in very fragile condition…

Your name jars you from the cold, petrifying fear inside you.

“Are you alright?”

“Sorry, Alf,” you mumble, standing and shutting off the TV. Your hands shake as you do it. You feel jittery and restless. “I’ll leave now, I don’t know how fast I’ll be able to get to the manor, though, I’m sure traffic is just crazy right now —”

“That won’t be necessary.”

“But —”

“Master Tim has insisted on returning to you. Miss Stephanie agreed and so, it is next to impossible to get them to change their minds.”

“Right,” you say, sitting back down, flexing your fingers, which have gone cold, despite the apartment being well-heated for December in Gotham. A little voice like Tim’s matter-of-factly says, You’re stressed. Blood doesn’t flow as well to the hands and extremities because of it.

You try to regroup. “Are the others okay, then?”

“They all had their masks, so yes, they’re alright. A few scrapes and bruises but nothing we aren’t used to. Master Tim and Miss Stephanie are on their way now and I imagine you’d like to prepare for his arrival.”

��Right, right, yeah, thanks, Alfred.”

“I should thank you for taking care of him. There is a reason he wants to be with you there rather than with us. It is most likely self-explanatory, but it should still be said.”

Of course.

After so many years, he is your home. The harbor to your tempest. And it is the same for him.

“Thank you, Alfred. I appreciate that.”

“Of course.”

You bid your goodbyes and hurry to prepare for their arrival.

A hot meal sounds in order but you don’t think he’ll be up for it immediately, so you grab a pack of crackers. You ensure you have water, as well as some Sprite. You don’t know if he showered there, he probably didn’t, so you grab a fresh change of clothes for him, leaving it on the counter in the bathroom and grabbing him a new towel, too.

You go back to the living room to turn the TV back on, changing it to Ice Age, then lighting a candle you like to turn on every now and then, lavender and vanilla scented. Something familiar, something to ease him. You don’t know if it’ll work but you have to try.

After that, it is simply a waiting game.

You keep a close eye on your phone, where you get notifications from your security system.

Fifteen minutes later, you get an alert — not about movement on the balcony, but at the front door, camera feed showing you Tim and Steph’s figures in heavy thick coats — appropriate for the weather and to hide their suits, since their usual masks are gone. You guess he wasn’t in good enough condition to grapple with her. The thought makes your heart clench. Dismissing the message, you hurry over to open the door.

“Yeah, there you go, sweetie, you’re home now,” she’s murmuring to him, voice softer and gentler than you’ve ever heard.

She glances up at you as the door opens, shooting you a sad smile, then nudging Tim gently.

Your throat tightens painfully as you see his face, paler than usual, eyes glassy, gaze far, far away from here.

“Timmy?”

His eyes shoot to you.

Then he’s moving, strength and vigor seemingly renewed at the sight of you, and his arms are wrapping around you, tight, like steel, painful, hurting, cutting off your breathing, but you don’t care, don’t say anything, you just hold him back, as tightly as you can.

The pain is just a reminder that he’s here, with you, once again. Like it should be.

Steph leaves silently, mouthing Thank you.

You mouth back Be safe.

She shoots you a thumbs-up, then slips out, door clicking closed behind her.

Tim is shaking, you realize, body trembling against yours.

“You’re okay,” you whisper and his hold tightens painfully again but you push through it. “We’re okay, honey. We’re okay. You’re okay.”

What must he have seen?

Fear. Jonathan Crane’s greatest motivation — to master fear itself and to push those boundaries by using his fear toxins on others.

Your greatest fears, convincing you that they have become reality.

For you?

Losing your family. Losing your friends. Losing Tim.

For him?

He has already lost so much.

Been through so much.

You can surmise that you must’ve been part of it. Of course. Of course.

“We’re okay,” you whisper again, squeezing him.

He buries his face in your neck, inhaling deeply. You run your fingers through his hair, not caring about how sweaty it is, Gotham clinging to him even now. You hate it. Can’t he get a break? Can’t he be free of it for even a few hours?

But that’s why you’re here.

To help. To ease the burden. This monumental burden put on him when he was a mere fourteen-years-old.

You two stay there for a little while. You feel him toe off his boots at one point, which makes you smile.

He keeps his face in your neck, despite you knowing the angle must start to bother him. But the contact is what he needs so you’ll give it to him. Whatever he wants.

“Are you up to eat something?” you ask softly, fingers still running through his damp hair.

He shakes his head. You guessed as much.

“How about a shower?”

Quiet for a minute. You feel the rise and fall of his shoulders and the tickle of warm breath against the sensitive skin of your neck. Then he nods.

It takes longer for him to let go. You don’t rush him. And even then, he doesn’t let you go far, holding onto your hand as you lead him into your shared bedroom and then into the adjoining bathroom.

Large and ridiculously luxurious, it has a jacuzzi bathtub, a large walk-in shower with a rainfall shower head, two for the body in the wall, then one detachable head, and it’s controlled by a waterproof touchscreen. Definitely a step-up from the bathtub shower you two had at Rose Oaks.

You turn on the shower, making it hot, then turn to Tim, reaching for the coat.

Underneath it is his suit. Most likely, he and Steph rode here by motorcycle, then she put them both in coats for the walk up here. It’s a bit of a silly image, especially since his cape is longer than it, and you smile to yourself as you pull off the coat.

“What?” he asks quietly, voice raspy. The first time he’s spoken so far.

“You’re cute, that’s all,” you murmur, dropping the coat onto the floor, then reaching up to unsnap the cape.

He doesn’t say anything else. Just looks at you. By this point in your relationship, the intensity of his gaze, taking you in fully, no details missed by keen eyes, does not fluster you. It just warms you. You feel seen in the best of ways. Wanted. Loved.

You love him, too. So much more than you thought possible. Sometimes it feels like you might burst with it. You hope he knows that. You’ll show him.

You take care of the rest of his suit. Fingers finding hidden zippers, carefully unlatching his utility belt and setting it aside, slipping off his compression shirt and the rest of it.

By the time everything has been taken off, the bathroom is muggy with steam.

You step back but he grabs your wrist, saying your name, blue eyes pleading.

“Stay. Please.”

“I am,” you soothe. “Just let me get out of this, okay?”

You strip, too, much more quickly. He steps in and you follow him, gently guiding him underneath the stream of hot water. Your skin breaks out in goosebumps, a little bit chilly from the sparse water touching you, but you ignore it.

Everything seems to fall away. Tim’s eyes slide shut, head tilting back, letting the water run over his face, thick chunks of dark hair sticking to his skin, the water washing away the terrors of the night. You sigh, hand slipping to his cheek, rubbing the skin there gently.

When he pulls his head away from the stream, you reach up to comb his hair away from his face, fingers stroking over his skin idly, tenderly. He leans forward, arms coming around your waist, pulling you into him.

You go easily, hands sliding over his shoulders as he closes the distance between your bodies, dropping his head against your chest this time, right over your heart.

When you think of the reason why, your throat squeezes.

“We’re okay,” you whisper, fingers tracing odd circles on his back, running through his wet hair, gently detangling the knots that formed during his work tonight.

“I know,” he whispers. “I just…”

The fear toxin is effective in what it was conceived to do. Even for Tim, as analytical and logic-minded as he is. When you live this kind of life, the threat of loss is a real one. Janet Drake’s death was entirely accidental. Not for any rhyme or reason other than misfortune. Jack Drake’s, however, was intentional. The list goes on and it’s hardly limited to loss by death. There are so many things that can happen. Things that can happen to you. Either because of Tim Drake or because of Red Robin. Or both.

But you don’t care about that. You never have. The danger is real but what you would lose in that trade-off is not worth it.

It doesn’t help, you think. Not now. Not when he knows, vividly, how he may lose you, because saying that now is as good as saying you’re okay with dying and he doesn’t need that.

He just needs assurance that you’re here now. And you’ll give it to him.

“I love you so much. You know that?”

You feel his breath stutter, arms tightening, chest pressed so closely to yours you can feel the unsteady beat of his heart pounding against you, his fingers digging into the skin of your hips so hard it’ll probably leave bruises. But you don’t care.

“And I’m not going anywhere,” you murmur. “Not in a million years if I had a choice in it.”

A small sniffle. “That’s not physically possible. Unless you’re secretly Kryptonian.”

Your lips quirk. You reach for his shampoo, squeezing out a dollop, then smoothing it into his hair. He sinks further into you, letting out a small noise of pleasure.

“Not Kryptonian. Just human. And very dedicated to those I love.”

A sigh. “I know.”

“Whatever you saw tonight,” you murmur and he tenses sharply but you keep going, keep massaging shampoo into his hair, soapy bubbles spilling over your palm, “it wasn’t real. I’m here. We’re all here. And we aren’t going anywhere. I’m not going anywhere.”

He’s quiet for a long while. Enough for you to rinse out the shampoo and rub in the conditioner.

You reach for his body wash. Your body wash, really. He hasn’t used his own in a long while.

His hand wraps around your wrist, though. Stopping you. He pulls back to look at you.

“Tim?”

His eyes are on your face. Soft. But still a little hard to read.

He turns you, switching your positions. You jump at the first douse of hot water but don’t fight it, allowing him to push you under the stream. You close your eyes to keep the water out. His hands come up to your face. Stroking your cheeks. Pushing your wet hair out of your face. You lean into his touch.

“I love you,” he whispers. “More than anything.”

“More than anything,” you echo, leaning into him. He wraps his arms around you. Hugging you. Tightly but not painfully.

You think you might hear him whisper Thank you but above the sound of the shower, you aren’t sure.

Slowly, you get him cleaned up. He insists on returning the favor and you let him, even if you already showered earlier. It’s a small thing to ask, after all.

After, you step out and dry yourselves off. You help him into his clothes and he helps you into yours. Insistent on reciprocation. Wanting to do something for you. But also just wanting to be near you. Touch you. Helping you gives him assurances, you think, of your presence. The thought makes your heart ache.

His hair is wetter than you’d like it to be, so you grab a towel and lead him out into the room. He sits on the edge of the bed and you stand between his legs, taking the towel to his hair, gently drying it.

Tim holds onto you all the while.

You comb through it afterward, gently taking out the tangles.

He has a distant look in his eyes when you finish, tossing the towel and comb to the side for now, not wanting to be too far from him.

“What are you thinking?” you prompt gently, sitting next to him, taking his hand in yours.

“That I think the last person who did that was my mom.”

You pause. “Was it… I’m sorry. I didn’t ask —”

“No,” he says, looking at you. “No, it was… it was nice.” His voice is small. A little embarrassed. A little bashful. Red stains his cheeks and you smile at the sight.

“I’ll do it anytime you want,” you promise. “In the meantime…”

You leave it hanging, for him to fill.

He sighs. “Let’s just go to bed?”

“Sure. Can I get you to drink some water first maybe?”

He acquiesces, drinking a glass of water, then sliding into bed. You clear the security system — with him peering over your shoulder, making certain for himself, too — then turn out the lights, curtains automatically drawing over the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Tim keeps you close underneath the covers, settling low, laying his head on your chest like he did in the shower. You press a kiss to his head, running your fingers through his hair, feeling sleep start to tug at your senses.

By the way he relaxes into the memory foam of the bed, you know it’s not far off from him, either.

You stay awake to make sure of it.

Feeling his body go lax, his breathing even out. Hoping, praying, his dreams are peaceful tonight. To whoever will listen. The universe, some higher being, you don’t know, you simply want to give him a break. A break from all of this.

It’s just a bad day. You know that. A bad day that stands out in a sea of so many good ones. But bad days for him, for you, are something so different from others’. Unforgiving trauma. Potential loss of life.

But honestly? If changing that meant leaving him… you wouldn’t change a thing.

God, you hope that as the time goes on, he’ll fully step back.

Until then, you’ll be there to pick up the pieces. To tend to the aftermath.

Always.

reblogs are appreciated!

#tim drake x reader #red robin x reader #dc comics imagine #dc comics x reader #tim drake imagine #tim drake x you #tim drake x y/n #red robin x you #red robin x y/n #red robin imagine

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chavahlahdraws · 9 months

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okay i see you’re obviously a fan of hmc, as you should, but i have a question cause i read the book but people on tiktok pissed me off (as booktok usually does i’m about ready to get rid of it) and a lot of people were saying it’s weird that people love the relationship even though sophie “didn’t really love him” because she was charmed. but i was like no y’all i thought she really loved him?? like she stays with him to have a kid right so???

ok. here is a real way to comment on this yippee! this is actually aweslome because i get to do my little sophie rant.

first of all and most importantly - sophie was never charmed by howl. quite the opposite, really, which i would argue is how she fell for him in the first place.

“Oh, confound that gray-and-scarlet suit!” Sophie said. “I refuse to believe that I was the one that got caught with it!” The trouble was the blue-and-silver suit seemed to have worked just the same. She stumped a few steps further. “Anyway,’ she said with great relief, “Howl doesn’t like me!”

this is by far one of my favorite sophie moments in the whole book: and i understand the confusion here for more than one reason (will explain more later!) but clearly she’s using the gray and scarlet suit as a euphemism because she’s in denial. after everything she’s seen of him, sophie refuses to believe that she could fall in love with someone who is so intrinsically flawed—however, as we find at the end of the book—they’re the same in that respect.

howl is by no means a bad person or an evil person in the slightest, and despite herself sophie falls in love with him because of his kindness (like most people do, anyway) here’s some times that they bond …

More about Howl? Sophie thought desperately. I have to blacken his name! Her mind was such a blank that for a second it actually seemed to her that Howl had no faults at all. How stupid! “Well, he’s fickle, careless, selfish, and hysterical,” she said. “Half the time I think he doesn’t care what happens to anyone as long as he’s all right-but then I find out how awfully kind he’s been to someone. Then I think he’s kind just when it suits him-only then I find out he undercharges poor people. I don’t know, Your Majesty. He’s a mess.”

“Behold the new Royal Wizard,” he said. “My name is very black.” Then he began to laugh, much to the surprise of Sophie and Michael. “And what did she do to the Count of Catterack?” he laughed. “I should never have let her near the King!” “I did blacken your name!” Sophie protested. “I know. It was my miscalculation,” Howl said.

Howl pointed a shaky hand up toward the canopy of his bed. “That’s why I love spiders. ‘If at first you don’t succeed, try, try, try, again.’ I keep trying,” he said with great sadness. “But I brought it on myself by making a bargain some years ago, and I know I shall never be able to love anyone properly now.” The water running out of Howl’s eyes was definitely tears now. Sophie was concerned. “Now, you mustn’t cry-”

“If you come out here alone, bring your stick to test the ground with,” Howl said. “It’s full of springs and bog. And don’t go any further that way.”

As she had feared, the hard black-and-white daylight coming through the broken wall showed her that Howl had not bothered to shave or tidy his hair. His eyes were still red-rimmed and his black sleeves were torn in several places. There was not much to choose between Howl and the scarecrow. Oh, dear! Sophie thought. He must love Miss Angorian very much. “I came for Miss Angorian,” she explained. “And I thought if I arranged for your family to visit you, it would keep you quiet for once!” Howl said disgustedly. “But no-”

Howl rose up on his hands and knees with a scramble. “I can’t stay,” he said. “I’ve got to rescue that fool Sophie.” “I’m here!” Sophie said, shaking his shoulder. “But so is Miss Angorian! Get up and do something about her! Quickly!”

Howl looked a little sad, but he said, “We were both hoping you would. Neither of us wanted to end up like the Witch and Miss Angorian. Would you call your hair ginger?” “Red gold,” Sophie said. Not much had changed about Howl that she could see, now he had his heart back, except maybe that his eyes seemed a deeper color-more like eyes and less like glass marbles. “Unlike some people’s,” she said, “it’s natural.” “I’ve never seen why people put such a value on things being natural,” Howl said, and Sophie knew then that he was scarcely changed at all.

and finally…

“Sophie,” said Martha, “the spell’s off you! Did you hear?” But Sophie and Howl were holding one another’s hands and smiling and smiling, quite unable to stop. “Don’t bother me now,” said Howl. “I only did it for the money.” “Liar!” said Sophie.

howl and sophie are meant for each other! they compliment each other immensely, and it’s difficult to describe how well they do so concisely. what i can pin it down to is this: nothing is secret between them. they operate like best friends as well as they do as lovers; they never let anything slide between them! sophie refuses to take howl’s shit when he crosses a line, (and howl vice cersa, especially when sophie is putting herself down) but they also know each other well enough to truly know their intentions when they say anything. a great example of this in hmc is this whole conversation:

“Why did you pretend to run away? To deceive the Witch?” “Not likely!” Howl yelled. “I’m a coward. Only way I can do something this frightening is to tell my self I’m not doing it!” Oh, dear! Sophie thought, looking round at the swirling grit. He’s being honest! And this is a wind. The last bit of the curse has come true! The hot grit hit her thunderously and Howl’s grip hurt. “Keep running!” Howl bawled. “You’ll get hurt at this speed!” Sophie gasped and made her legs work again. She could see the mountains clearly now and a line of green below that was the flowering bushes. Even though yellow sand kept swirling in the way, the mountains seemed to grow and the green line rushed toward them until it was hedge high. “All my flanks were weak!” Howl shouted. “I was relying on Suliman being alive. Then when all that seemed to be left of him was Percival, I was so scared I had to go out and get drunk. And then you go and play into the Witch’s hands!” “I’m the eldest!” Sophie shrieked. “I’m a failure!” “Garbage!” Howl shouted. “You just never stop to think!” Howl was slowing down. Dust kicked up round them in dense clouds. Sophie only knew the bushes were quite near because she could hear the rush and rattle of the gritty wind in the leaves. They plunged in among them with a crash, still going so fast that Howl had to swerve and drag Sophie in along, skimming run across a lake. “And you’re too nice,” he added, above the lap-lap of the water and the patter of sand on the water-lily leaves. “I was relying on you being too jealous to let that demon near the place.”

sorry for the chunky quote, but this is super super important for our two silly little characters and their dynamic!!

and as for the misconception that sophie was charmed by howl:

mrs. pentsemmon actually hints when she meets sophie that she cursed the grey and scarlet suit herself (out of jealousy, though she’d never say it) and the original passage says that;

The trouble was the blue-and-silver suit seemed to have worked just the same.

Sophie knows for a fact that she felt the same about Howl when he was wearing the blue and silver suit that she did when he wore the enchanted one, and she knew from that that she most definitely wasn’t affected by the charm.

also! a little note about misconceptions in general: the first time i read hmc, the ending scene felt out of nowhere. but that’s how subtly dwj worked in the character development throughout this story! at it’s core hmc is a character based story, and howl and sophie are the most important characters (sophie especially!) but in the first read through i think we all focused on the plot a little more since we didn’t know that was what it was. every read through since, i’ve seen how howl and sophie fall in love in real time! and it’s undeniable then. :3

anyways! relationships written by a woman always win fr. thanks for listening to my rant if you made it this far. and my good friend @thatfoolsophie if you have anything to add, please do to this already crazy long post lmao :3

#hmc book #howl’s moving castle #hmc #dwj #sophie hatter #howell jenkins #howl pendragon #howls moving castle #sophie x howl #howl and sophie #long post #book analysis

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who-knew-a-sheep-can-write · 15 days

Text

In A Week's Time: Elliott x Fem!Reader (NSFW)

Contains: Soft sex, creampies

Summer. A scorching summer season had settled amongst the valley. Where others saw a reason to just flock to the beach and wade in the oceans or to take advantage of the museum’s better quality air conditioner, you had been excited for this season to make profits. Sure, you had made a good profit off of spring’s fresh crops what of strawberries and parsnips and bulbs of garlic all in a row; it was summer you were waiting for as well as many other farmers around. You could just imagine your crop fields full of patches of blueberries and of melons, peach and orange trees in full bloom as well as stalks of hops to keep the kegs full of aging beer (and let’s not get started about the starfruit patches to which you’ll be turning into wine by the end of their respected harvest).

You were out of bed before Elliott - which was rare as he’s used to waking with the gulls cawing horribly before the sun even rises over the ocean’s shore. The writer’s eyes prying open to see you already out the door, flowing auburn hair a mess against the soft pillow covers, sticking to his chiseled face as he watched on in confusion as you bolted out of the front door. He squinted, grumbling something under his breath about how eager you were and quickly followed behind you.

The early summer morning breeze was cool, crisp, inviting as you overlooked the expanse of your farm from your porch. The sun barely peeking over the trees of the forest bordering the outskirts of the farm, bits of orange rays poking through, and twinkling off of the iridium sprinklers littered around, scarecrows still standing tall, protecting the now empty fields of dead spring crops.

The front door opened behind you, you peered over your shoulder to see your beloved husband standing there, squinting as the sun slowly rises over the horizon and spill into the farm. You always loved how squinty-eyed he was when he wakes, hair tied back. He was always so handsome, even when he had just woken up. You giggled, remembering how he had woken up when the spring had started and you had woken early to start planting the usual plots of strawberries, parsnips, and beans. The poor man had his shirt on backwards and nearly had his shoes on the wrong feet before you helped correct him. It was always so sweet of him to wake up early with you every crop season to help you clear and plant and water with you.

“My darling?” he mumbled behind you.

“It’s summer, Elliott! Time for the biggest harvests of the year!” you proclaimed, puffing your chest out proudly.

“I’ll make coffee,” he nodded, leaving the front door open to allow your cat to slip outside and happily trot towards the barn and coop towards the south exit of your farm that leads to Marnie’s ranch.

Around midday, you had retired back to the house where Elliott was waiting, radiating with excitement. He had just come back two hours ago from Pierre’s store with many bags of seeds roped around his hands and wrists for you to start sowing. You climbed the stairs and overlooked the expanse of your farm with your husband. You both took in the tilled dirt ready to be watered after lunch. You were both excited to slowly be able to see the dull beige and browns and ochres of the farm’s soil to slowly bloom vibrant greens and pinks and blues and yellows of fresh vegetation by the end of the season.

“Tired, my darling?” he stepped inside, allowing you to pass into your home.

“Not yet,” you hummed.

“Good! I have wonderful news I’d love for you to hear,” he chimed.

“Oh? And what would that be, Elliott?”

Leading you towards the kitchen, you noticed a large, square vanilla envelope bent in a slight curve. A glass mixing bowl sat a little ways away, most likely used to press out the envelope. It was opened, the obvious tear towards the top of the envelope, the contents gently pushed back inside. What looked to be a single sheet of paper was inside.

“Do you remember the genre of book you’ve inspired me to write, my love?” Elliott hummed.

You could remember that day clearly. Nearly two seasons had passed, the end of the scorching summer was settled on the land, the valley preparing for fall. The weather had cooled just a tad, but it was enough to warrant you a trip down to the beach for a dip in the ocean. Your crops were all done for the season, every last bundle of blueberries plucked, every melon uprooted, hot peppers and tomatoes picked from every patch you had planted. You were done for the rest of the season when it had come to the farm.

But as soon as you arrived at the beach, you had immediately lost all focus upon seeing Elliott’s cabin. You had been meaning to visit, and before you could even realize it, you were knocking at his front door. The poet was surprised to see you, emerald green eyes widening in pure delight at the sight of a new visitor.

Auburn hair tied back by a vibrant green ribbon, delicate locks not long enough framed his face nicely. Sharp jawline freshly shaved, not a single hair missed nor a single blemish on his healthy tanned skin. A loose white button-up long sleeve shirt sat unbuttoned a bit on the top. His shirt had been tucked into a pair of loose black slacks. If you hadn’t been blushing at the sight of a man as handsome as Elliott, you would’ve questioned him on why he decided to dress like a pirate.

Instead, he had roped you into an elegant conversation, allowing you to step into his cabin. Enchanted with his delicate words, you soon found yourself staring at him as he looked at you, groomed dark brows pulled up slightly as he waited for your answer.

He smirked as you shook your head slightly, clearing the fog from your mind as you suddenly found yourself in an embarrassing position.

“Sorry, excuse me,” you stuttered, feeling your cheeks heat up.

Elliott simply chuckled softly. His silky voice filled your ears before he glanced back at you, a smile still tugging on his chiseled lips. Yoba, they looked so soft.

“It’s this awful heat. I find myself losing my words too. I was asking you your favorite genre to read.”

“Oh!” You felt your stomach tighten into even tighter knots. “I… Romance I guess. I haven’t really had a lot of time to sit down and read something proper like an actual book. Maybe a news article on my phone or something but…”

“Romance? Ah, a classic form of literature! I find myself sinking into romantic novels myself, especially during a storm.”

“Romance,” you hummed.

He pulled the single piece of thick paper from the envelope, still a little curved from its time spent in the mailbox since early this morning.

“It’s a very short notice for such big news, but I’ve been invited to do a reading tour for the book you’ve inspired me to write.”

He handed you the piece of paper.

It was from his publisher, a full schedule on the bottom of the short notice. Every day was packed with readings to signings and meetups, all scheduled for one week.

Next week.

“You’re leaving Saturday,” you noted the date stamped at the very bottom, the following Sunday being his return.

“I am. But only for one week, my radiance.” He paused for a moment, you looked up at him with wide eyes full of excitement. “Will you be alright? I’ll be gone for one week and it’s already the start of a new crop season for us-”

“Go on it! This is what you’ve wanted, yeah? I’ll be fine!”

Elliott stared at you with slight shock, soon melting into a warm smile full of absolute love.

“I’ll be here for the rest of the week, though. I’ll still be here to help water what is not covered, help with your animals.”

You nodded and looked back down at the paper in your hands. You noticed the time to leave on Saturday is missing.

“When do you leave Saturday?”

“I believe before noon.”

Elliott produced one round-trip bus ticket from the envelope. The same company that brought you here to Pelican Town a little over two years ago.

Lo and behold, he would be leaving at ten o'clock in the morning.

Elliott plucked the schedule and ticket from your hands and placed them back on the counter. He quickly replaced the empty space between your hands, he filled them with his own. Grasping them tightly with his own, he pulled you closer to him.

His hands were strong, skin soft, fingertips scarred slightly from countless papercuts he’s given himself from binge-reading new and old books on rainy days as well as spending countless and stressful days writing, editing, and rereading his work that he’ll now read to many people out there in the world. You loved how nice his hands felt, warm, but not too warm to make your hands overheat. His hands were bigger than yours, enveloping them with their strong warmth as he pulled you closer until you both were pressed flush up against each other.

You caught whiffs of him. You always loved how Elliott smelled, from his shampoo and conditioner to the subtle hints of his aftershave and cologne. Pomegranate was the main node you would get (it was really the fruit that had started your acquaintance with him when he asked if you grew them on the farm) but he would also always smell somewhat like the sea. Sea salt in the ocean breeze, fresh and alive, and inviting like the ocean on a hot summer’s day.

And looking at your husband before you, you could feel your body heat up even more. His hands slowly rising in temperature, slowly roasting your fingers and palms still a little cool from handling your iridium hoe. You swore you could feel little tingles sparking between the minute gaps between your fingers and palms, fireworks, explosions of nerves edging you both further and further closer to the end of the cliff until-

You both suddenly found yourselves suddenly tangled in each other’s limbs. Bodies pressed flush up against each other, no room between your persons. Your breasts pressed firmly against his chest, stomachs with no gaps between, legs struggling to stand up properly and support each other.

Your hands snatched at the collar of Elliott’s button-up, crisp and clean with no wrinkles in sight now sat crumbled in your grasping hands. Your fingers flexing, suddenly releasing the collar to claw and crawl to his broad shoulders, snatching at the thin, soft material by the handful, pulling him closer if that was any more possible.

Elliott’s passion placed into his display of affections always seemed to catch you off guard. You knew Elliott was a passionate man the moment you met him, but as you grew to knew him and quickly fell for him, you learned that Elliott and romance went together like Gus and any event where he’s able to serve the town. Elliott always made you feel loved, always made you feel beautiful. He may look like he belongs on the front of a romance novel cover with his god-like appearance, but damn it all if he doesn’t know how to absolutely ravish you as the books would suggest.

One of Elliott’s strong hands had come to the back of your head, agile fingers gently grasping at the back of your head, fingers wrapped around your locks, locking your heads together. The other went around to behind your shoulders. He grabbed at the back of your shirt, a fistful of cloth fabric teasing him whereas he teased you with a few tugs, threatening to rip your shirt right off of your body without another thought.

It wouldn’t have been the first time he would have done that.

Elliott’s lips seemed to be made for yours. Every kiss was perfect.

Elliott softly moaned into the kiss, the swaying weight between you two nearly had your legs fumbling, nearly allowing the two of you to fall over yourselves. Elliott pulled away for just a moment, emerald green eyes gazing into yours for a brief moment, lust filling his gorgeous hues the more he looked at you, a faint pink blush dashing over his chiseled cheeks. You could feel your face heating up as well, the apples of your cheeks suddenly scorching just looking at him right here, nose to nose with your loving husband.

He had quickly pulled you into another kiss, lips tenderly pressing against yours in a passionate embrace, lulling your legs to finally be able to move towards the bedroom.

It was sloppy, your backs pressing against the walls of the short hallway connecting the living room to your shared bedroom. Elliott had you pinned to the wall at one point, your head pushed to the side, mouth open as soft mewls and moans escaping from your slick lips as Elliott sucked at the nape of your neck. His large, strong hands were squeezing your wrists, your fingers limp yet curling as you felt him pressed his clothed erection brush against your person.

You both had managed to tear yourselves from the wall, suddenly another mess of tangled arms, hands grasping in hair and snatching at clothing until Elliott’s nimble fingers had finally dipped under the bottom hem of your shirt, carefully peeling the hem up into a small curl of fabric until he could firmly grab at it with both hands. With a swift and sudden pull of his hands, you had suddenly found yourself topless in the sights of your beloved.

Flushing under his emerald gaze, Elliott had paused for a brief moment to look over your body, eyes scanning your form, lust slowly consuming his features the more he gazed at your form with fluttering eyes. Elliott hummed deep within his throat, hands coming up to cup at your shoulders. Hooking his thumbs under the straps of your bra, he delicately slid them off of the curve of your shoulders and crawled his fingers to the hooks behind your back. Your bra quickly came undone in his hands, the delicate lingerie now sliding off of your body with a tug of his agile hands and carelessly tossed over his shoulder.

The sight of your naked breasts alone was enough for Elliott to start to unravel more and more.

A coy little smirk fell upon your lips as you saw out of the corner of your eye the tenting in his pants, noting how the fabric was tightening more and more as the seconds ticked by.

“I hardly think it’s fair for you to still be dressed while you’re stripping off all of my clothes,” you pointed out.

“My dearest, I believe you’re right. How rude of me.”

Elliott had complied with your statement, but he was a little shit. Nimble fingers that had just ravaged your top and bra off of your person within just a few seconds, had plucked the top two buttons of his shirt apart at a snail’s pace; All with a devilish look in his eye as looked directly at you.

You flung yourself at him, hands grabbing the collar of his button-up and pulling his close to connect your lips once more. Elliott’s hands moved from his shirt to grip at the sides of your head firmly, sinking his fingers into the locks of your hair. Your hands fumbled down to the rest of the buttons, fingers struggling to pluck them apart one by one until you had no more to unbutton. Your fingers brushed against his bare chest and abdomen, lightly sun-kissed skin, toned generously as the lean muscle under your fingertips flexed softly at your bare touch.

Elliott shrugged his button-up off of his shoulders and tossed it aside, the hunk of material sliding against the hardwood floors.

Elliott advanced towards you, pushing you backwards until the back of your knees bumped into the lip of the bed. You stumbled back a bit, losing your balance and falling back into the mattress, your body bouncing a bit as you landed on the springy mattress. Elliott smirked, enjoying as your breasts bounced with you.

Elliott’s graceful fingers moved from your shoulders downward, fingers dancing down your body, past the curve of your breasts, and digging gently into the soft skin of your stomach until his fingers danced along the waistband of your pants. The button had suddenly slipped free and the zipper had been pulled down.

Elliott had leaned forward, you softly gasped when you felt his warm lips press gentle kisses down the center of your torso in a straight line, going from the bottom of your neck to in between the space of your breasts down to your belly button all while he had wrestled your pants out from under your rear. He worked your trousers down the length of your legs, eventually hitching them off from where they bunched up at your ankles and allowed the trousers to flop onto the floor, all while he was still trailing kisses right down your center.

He briefly looked up at you under a near curtain of auburn locks, emerald green hues amused at your heated face, wonderful lips smirking as you softly begged him to keep going.

His index fingers hooked around the delicate upper hemline of your underwear. Twisting his fingers just a bit to secure the hemline, he slowly pulled downwards, peeling your panties away from your pussy and down the length of your legs, soon joining your pants on the floor. The sight of you dripping wet, heat blooming from between your legs stirred Elliott onwards, but he remained collected; no matter how much he wished to absolutely ravage your body.

Elliott had stood up, you whined a bit as you immediately missed the feeling of his lips trailing up and down your torso, worshipping you, ravishing you with his soft kisses.

Your loving husband gripped the waistband of his own trousers and fiddled with the buckle of his leather belt. Shiny brass clicking a little at him fiddling and soon the long strip of punched leather slid out from the belt loops of his black slacks and was tossed onto your trousers pooling at his feet. You watched on in awe as he slowly dipped his hands under the waistband for just a brief second before plucking apart the button of his own pants and pulling the zipper down, revealing straining boxer-briefs.

You flushed at the outline hidden inside the confinements of his underwear. Cock straining, erect, yet tortured to be stuck into tightening underwear.

The black slacks dropped to the floor, Elliott nudging both his trousers and yours off to the side of the bed just out of the way. The matching black boxer-briefs looked awfully tight, you could only imagine the struggle Elliott was going through as he looked over your delightful form.

A few locks of auburn hair drifted out of place, some sticking to his slightly sweaty forehead while the others hung loose in his face, covering his eyes slightly. A faint blush still settled on his cheeks as he looked down at you with half-lidded eyes full of lust and desire.

“Elliott,” you cooed, your body heating up.

Your gut was coiling, heat pooling more around your pussy, your stomach feeling full of butterflies. You could hear your heart pounding in your ears, feel your blood roaring with life.

You needed him inside of you now.

“My dear (Y/n), what do you need?” he purred, still eyeing you as if you were nothing else but prey.

“You,” you whimpered.

“And what do you want me to do?” he teased, the corners of his lips twitching upwards into a coy smile.

“I want you to fuck me into this mattress.”

You swore you could see something snap inside of Elliott. The once calm and collected writer you called a husband seemingly snapped. You could no longer see the emerald in his eyes. The sea of lovely green now consumed by his pupils blown wide.

It was a good thing you both live on a farm, a good walking distance away from the rest of Pelican Town, otherwise, you and Elliott would be looking at many noise complaints from the rest of the town.

You watched as he snatched off his boxer-briefs, the poor man-handled fabric flung away, no longer in your line of sight.

What was in your line of sight, however, was your husband’s cock springing outwards, now free of its confinements.

You only had mere seconds to gaze at it before Elliott had pinned you to the mattress, the man hovering over you, hands pinning your shoulders to the mattress, impaling you with his cock.

A moan lodged in your throat, choking slightly as you cried out in pleasure at the tightness. Elliott gave a satisfied groan as well, broad shoulders sagging for just a mere moment to lose himself in the sea of pleasure he found himself in.

You loved how Elliott’s cock fit inside of you so perfectly, it was like to was made for you. His cock was large, thick, always stretching your tight pussy just right. Just the feeling of being stretched had you whining, clawing at the sheets by the handful. Your head rocked back into the mattress, cradled by the bunched up sheets under your head and neck. Your eyes screwed shut at the painful stretch.

Elliott moaning softly, panting against your chest. His long auburn locks had spilled across your sweaty chest, thick strands clinging to your breasts, pooling on your person for a brief moment as Elliott had dipped his head to revel in the feeling of his cock in your tight pussy.

He craned his head back up, looking down at your sweaty face, mouth wide open as you cried and mewled under him. A wild smirk spread across his lips.

He was generous enough to give you a quick second to adjust to the tight stretch before he had started to slowly piston his hips.

The back of your head curled into the sheets piled underneath you more, your throat stretching, baring more skin to him. Elliott had leaned back down again, still pistoning his hips at a slow rate to enjoy the tight feeling of your slick walls around his cock.

Your guts were knotted with lust, only wanting you to raise your hips and match him with his thrusts, meet his cock thrusting inwards with you lifting your hips up, wanting your sexes to slap together, to rock the bed and make it groan like you normally do together. You loved how wild and powerful Elliott could be in bed.

Elliott’s hands snatched at your hips, nails digging into the soft skin. You whimpered at the bite of crescent moons, loving the pain adding on to the pleasure bubbling inside of your person. Each thrust seemed to make your organs knot closer together, made the coils heat up, and tighten. Your moans only spurred him to speed up once he had given you ample time to adjust to the tightness inside of you.

Elliott had let go of your hips, favoring to trap the sides of your head by placing his hands out flat against the ruffles and rumples of the sheets now bunched under the back of your skull, careful not to snag at any of your locks. His grip on the sheets tightened, supporting him better as he rocked his hips back and forth at a great pace, pounding into you like a machine powered by pistons.

He had dipped his head down to meet your parted lips. He groaned into the cavity of your mouth, wincing and tightening his grip on the sheets as your walls had clamped down on his cock. You could hear the sheets creaking, the soft fabric stretching and compressing under the intense grip Elliott was putting it through until he had released it just a touch.

He pressed hot, open-mouth kisses all around your face. He trailed kisses along the curve of your jaw all the way back to your earlobes where he would nip and gently tug at them. He would trail a sloppy line down the curve of your neck, grazing the columns of your throat with his teeth. He definitely had produced a good amount of hickies along your neck and upper chest, so much to possibly warrant a turtleneck at the beginning of summer if you were to have made any plans of going out in public. He had even gently sunk his teeth into the soft plush of one of your breasts, enjoying the little squeaks you produced as your clawed at Elliott’s back and grabbed at his broad shoulders.

Once he had deemed he had marked you up enough, he had only continued to ramp up his pace until you suddenly choke at the speed. You gasped, feeling your passageway clamp down on him once more, your husband crying out in pleasure and tossing his head back to revel in the feelings spiking through him.

You cried out, feeling the coils inside of you tighten even more, now white-hot as the seed about to enter your womb pretty soon as your climax was fast approaching.

You caught sight of Elliott’s eyes, emerald hues still missing, lost in a sea of black. His pupils dilated, still-full blown with lust, looking as though he had captured a starless sky in his eyes.

It was hypnotic, and the thundering of your blood in your ear like war drums had only added on to the pressure building up in your core. The splitting pressure inside of you had you squeezing your eyes closed, wincing, a soft moan passing through grit teeth as a wave of painful pleasure rattled through you, only tightening the coils inside of you even more.

Elliott was unraveling as well, auburn locks falling in his face, hiding his reddened and sweaty rugged face behind the curtain of his groomed mane. His shoulders tensed, lean muscle flexing in his shoulders and biceps, veins poking against his lightly tanned skin. His thrusts had gone from fast and passionate to sporadic and sloppy, longing and yearning to finally release inside of you.

A sudden eruption of heat spilled from between your legs, a massive release of pent up pain and turned to pleasure. A lewd moan had spilled from your open mouth, eyes rolling to the back of your head as Elliott groaned above you, riding and thrusting into your slickening pussy, only allowing him to lose himself to his gaining lust.

Your limbs suddenly felt heavy, weighed down by bones seemingly made of lead and iridium, allowing you to sink into the plush comfort of the mattress as Elliott continuously pounded into your pussy without fail. The man of many elegant words had crippled down to only guttural moans and heavy groans. He could barely make any other noises, he was too busy chasing his won climax. He huffed and puffed in your ears, shoulders shaking as he pistoned his hips back and forth like a well-oiled machine.

It had nearly been another full minute before you felt the slight twitch inside of your passageway, his cock stiffening ever so slowly in between the rushed thrusts of his hips. His thrusts were growing sloppier by the thrust, the bed groaning under the two of you as it rocked with each thrust. The two of you were a flurry of moans and lingering kisses, Elliott occasionally kissing down your jaw or sucking at your neck. Your pussy still slick with your sweet only allowed him to seemingly thrust faster inside of you, you could feel his cock twitch a bit more.

He was going to cum quickly.

His hands on either side of your head snatched at more of the rumpled bedsheets, twisting as his back arched downwards. With each thrust, there was no room left between your two persons, no air gaps between your sexes, drawing his cock nearly out of you only to slam right back into you without mercy. You swore you were drooling, trapped in the starry bliss clouding your mind, still chasing the joys of your climax as he only ravaged your pussy more and more.

The stiffer he got, the sloppier he got with his thrusts until hot milky white suddenly erupted from Elliott’s cock, the man coming with a choked shout. His shoulders curled up into his neck, head shooting back, auburn locks spilling over his broad shoulders and you milked every last drop of semen out of his cock still buried inside of you.

You cried, mewled as you felt the fullness inside of you, only to exhale as Elliott’s cock had slid right out of your passageway, his semen following quickly after to spill onto the bed.

Elliott nearly collapsed on top of your worn person, the man of elegance managing to roll himself to land right next to you. He draped one of his tanned arms over your body, the meat of his arm over your breasts so his hand could reach under your armpit, dragging you closer to his sweaty chest. You both laid there panting, hearts racing as moments ticked by, the thrill of your orgasms slowly riding down as you both looked at each other in the eye. Sweaty faces, blushed at the cheeks and noses, you both couldn’t help the small and loving smiles spreading across your faces. You both looked at each other through the messy, frizzy locks clinging to your sweaty faces. A good shower was to be put in order now, but it would have to wait.

You shivered, still feeling his hot seed spilling slowly out between your nether lips, tangling with the sheets under your person, a mess you would both clean in just a moment.

You stood there by the bus stop, waiting for the bus to arrive with your husband right by your side. You could tell he was nervous, he would always toy with his long locks when he was. He had even pulled his hair back and tied it to try and stop himself from fiddling with his luscious auburn locks, but he couldn’t help himself.

He was nervous, and rightfully so!

He was going to be gone for a week, reading for his adoring fans, signing autographs, meeting new and important people.

You took his hand, startling the man out of his daydream. Wide emerald eyes looking at you for a mere second before he seemingly calmed down… just a bit.

“You’ll do great out there. I promise,” you smiled. “Just breathe, remember to stay calm and you’ll do great.”

Elliott smiled warmly at you. He only wished you could come along with him, join him on this adventure he was going to have, but you had a farm to take care of, animals to raise and crops to tend to so you can help feed the town.

You had your responsibilities, and now, he did too. This would open up a lot of doors, a lot of opportunities to expand his craft, make good relationships and business partners, spread the word about his writing more and more.

He only wished he could have you by his side. After all, you were his biggest inspiration for finishing his book. This was all because of you; Because you had introduced yourself to him your first day of arriving at Pelican Town, because you took up his many requests on the wanted board in front of Pierre’s, because you had taken the time to get to know him, to give him many wonderful gifts, to give him the mermaid’s pendant… You had spoken to him nearly every day, no matter if you were covered in dirt from the farm or covered in slime and bits of dead bugs and whatever horrors you had slain in the mines, you made it your goal to befriend him, to stick your muddy boot through his cabin door and get to know him. Even now, the mermaid’s pendant sat heavily against his throat, the polished silver chain choking him with suspense as he started to worry.

What if something happened and he wasn’t here to help? What if something happened to the farm? It’s summer, storms would surely come to try and wreck the farm. What if you were caught outside? What if you were caught in the barns? What if you got hurt and he wasn’t there to help you? To protect you?

The bus had rolled down the street and stopped right in front of you both. You both eyed each other one last time before you fully turned to him, Elliott doing the same.

Now face to face with your husband, you reached out and pulled him into a tight embrace. You could feel your throat tightening up just a tad as he wrapped his strong arms around your person, a quick press of his lips against your cheekbone.

“I promise to write to you every day, my radiance,” he murmured into your ear.

“Every day?”

“Every day without fail.”

“I love you, Elliott.”

“And I love you, (Y/n).”

The doors to the bus swung open, the bus driver not even looking in your direction at first.

Elliott pulled away only to press his lips to yours. The kiss was so full of passion for how brief it had to be without keeping the bus driver and the other bus occupants waiting.

You pulled away to look him in the eyes. You could see the yearning for him to stay with you, but you both knew this was coming sooner or later.

“Be careful, yeah?”

“Of course, my dearest.”

And with that, Elliott picked up his (overstuffed) suitcase and carry-on bag and set off into the bus.

You watched on with a reassuring smile as Elliott sat down at the window facing you. You followed the bus as far down the sidewalk as you could until there was no walkway left. You watched from your spot on the sidewalk as the bus was slowly swallowed by the darkness of the tunnel, heading towards the city.

With a soft sigh, you glanced down at the mermaid pendant sitting around your neck. You gently grasped the shimmering blue twisted shell and gazed back at the tunnel.

You ignored the biting, bitter feeling bubbling in your gut, wrinkling your nose at the sensation of dread wafting around your mind, and turned to follow the trail back to your farm.

Maybe if you busied yourself with farm work and the mines and whatever foraging you could find, the week would fly by quickly and Elliott would return to you sooner than you would think.

Upon arriving at the farm, you sighed. You knew the farm felt emptier the moment you stepped foot on the land. Even as your cat brushed around your leg and trotted towards the barn and coop, you hoped time would fly by quickly.

Picking up the milking bucket and shears from the chest by your house, you followed behind your faithful kitty, attempting to busy your lonely mind with work until your beloved author returned to you.

#stardew valley #elliott x reader #elliott x farmer

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